#all of which i saved for emergency map directions only

[ranseur]

https://www.tumblr.com/ranseur/762392580544692224?source=share

I- fucking.. i never realized i could download and organize fics

I feel stupid now

Never used any app cause ao3's website is amazing and i love it but I CAN DOWNLOAD AND ORGANIZE FICS?? WHAAAT

this is so stupid cause i already have a few downloaded fics i just haven't thought about doing it for more

noo don't feel stupid! but i hope you find that an app boosts your quality of life the app i use on android is called ReadEra. i haven't tested or compared other apps, but i like this one because the UI is so unobtrusive, customizable, and intuitive. tap right/left or top/bottom for page flip, tap middle to hide/show UI, swipe left side to decrease/increase brightness, tap top right to make a bookmark or edit one, top left to swap between two chosen visual themes (i use dark vs darker, but there is light theme and 'paper' offwhite too), if i browse my collection or author list it will keep me in the author and collection i'm 'in' until i back out myself, etc etc i really love how easy this app is to use. the only ad i get is the occasional prompt to go premium but it doesn't impede my reading experience but it could be true that any old app will do all this- find what works for you! enjoy!

[serpentface]

i really like how this setting has a very well defined history to it, the past, the way it has been described so far, genuinely feels like another place and still one that would logically lead to the present, so i wanted to ask, have you thought at all about this in the other direction? what will the setting look like in 10, 50, a 100 years? just where is this world going exactly?

10 years absolutely. 50 years not so much. 100 years barely. Far future not at all. Here's a summary of the localized 10-15 year outcome (posting the (incomplete, already outdated) map again because it is extremely necessary for the paragraphs to come)

(Titenegal is the star just to the west of Godsmouth, the Mouth is the stretch of sea between Bur and the Wardi empire, the Viper trails off a little off-map to the east, the seas west of the Viper form the Inner Seaway)

I have a pretty solid idea of the next 10-15 years for Imperial Wardin. The former king (technically emperor but the word for 'king' is used for this title) Stavis Amanti honorably and nobly and TOTALLY willingly replaces the destined white calf in sacrifice, and the Odomache takes his dynasty's place as the emperor. As God Itself incarnated, the state is now functionally a theocracy with a god-emperor. The Imperial Wardi faith has always been the greatest unifying factor in an otherwise fragmented imperial entity, and this change results in a greater centralization of power than what's seen in Whitecalf (in which it is essentially composed of allied city-states conditionally loyal to a king, it's integrity is very tenuous in general and actively falling apart in the famine). The city-state of Lobera and Godsmouth both disavow the Amanti dynasty during the famine and the former wholly secedes and declares itself an independent state near the end of the story (the latter re-avows its loyalty to the new god-emperor). Lobera pulls some nearby imperial tributary territories under its protection and and the territorial size of Imperial Wardin is diminished (basically the entire northeast is lost).

The drought DOES end in the same year as the pilgrimage (yayyyy it worked) but actual recovery from a 6.75 year drought and famine, especially in the context of a shift in political power, takes time. The famine cannot be considered to have fully ended for another 4-5 years (conditions just gradually improve until normalization) and this time is spent in with focus being inward and on recovery and reunification. The city-state of Erub in particular fully collapsed by the end of the famine (the Yellowtail river ran Completely dry and tens of thousands of people in that region alone died from starvation and disease) and is never reformed in this 15 year period, though some refugees (and opportunists grabbing lands from dead or fled farmers) start to trickle back in as the land recovers.

The shift in power from a dynastic imperial monarchy to an imperial oligarchy is actually wildly popular among much of the public (the notion existed long before it actually happened, the public opinion on the imperial family is EXTREMELY low during the famine and the pilgrimage is largely a desperate attempt to save face). The social perception that God Itself incarnated and made head of state is what ended the drought and famine is massively beneficial to the new power structure. Imperial Wardin emerges from famine recovery at the most united and centralized in power it's ever been.

A full scale war between Imperial Wardin and Lobera+Allies finally occurs about 6 years out, and lasts a little over a year before Lobera is utterly crushed and re-absorbed. Control over tributary states is reaffirmed, and efforts start to be made to make Imperial Wardi territory fully contiguous (in the map, only the red sections are Fully controlled territories)

Meanwhile Titenegal is more aggressively courted into full alliance with Godsmouth, and the majority of elected officials vote for a merger, which in practice absorbs it into the Wardi empire (while retaining elected officials for local affairs, though these must defer to the emperor). This basically splits the united Burri nations in half (both in public opinion and in a literal territorial capacity) and is extremely contentious. Imperial Wardin is clearly in the process of pulling the old switcheroo and conquering Bur, through diplomacy for the time being.

And with the full cross-Mouth unification having occurred, attention is turned back north to Finnerich (which has been fully independent of its tributary status for over a decade now, and has been a major pain in the ass for both Wardi and Burri interests). A much stronger, much more unified, and much more militarized Imperial Wardin starts preparing for another round of invasions, while the self-declared king of Finnerich has been courting historical enemies into allegiance against it. At this point the Wardi Empire is entering a strong expansionist era and trying to conquer the entire Viper Seaway and Mouth, with hopes of finally digging that canal at the end of the Viper (a seaway that peters out about 40 miles from the ocean, many have tried to dig a canal and all have failed) to completely monopolize the eastern tradeways. It has a long way to go to actually get there though.

All this stuff is the political backdrop for Blightseed (the story).

In the LONG and broader term, the only really imminent world-altering scenario would be the greater spread of firearms. At the moment the most complex and powerful firearm being produced is types of flintlocks/matchlocks most comparable to the arquebus (also there's some smaller pistols with similar mechanisms) (I'm also going back and forth on whether I should downgrade the gun tech), but the majority of firearms that exist are more basal fire lances and handcannons (and the VAST majority of peoples have no firearms at all). In the 'contemporary' these matchlocks are only just starting to spread through very powerful states in the Inner Seas tradeway and are generally rare and elite weapons, which are slowly being disseminated through capture and illegal trade and reverse engineered by other people. The spread of relatively efficient and powerful handguns would have profound implications for warfare and the power structures involved in trade networks and will probably be a major contributing force to mass societal changes in the next 100-300 years.

I also haven't provided a good sense of scale via not posting world maps but most of the imperial entities described are relatively tiny on a global scale. There has never been anything in the setting on the scale of the Roman empire or the Mongolian empire at their peaks. Imperial Wardin's total mass of occupied territories (not including claimed but unoccupied land, blue on the map) is a little under the size of the full extent of the Aztec empire (and they have some similarities in being largely composed of a tributary states). It's a world that has heavy interconnection via trade along coasts and seaways, but its societies are mostly (relatively) small in scale. This is a long way of saying I think the mass spread of firearms could result in something closer to that scale of territorial landgrabbing forming.

[wisteria-lodge]

Hey there, feel free to ignore this. I am writing to you because I am having a hard time understanding my Secondary.

I like having a plan to follow (that I formulated). I also like having the option to step away from it. If I am in a situation where I have no plans or any basis of knowledge, I can still enjoy the events but I will also be a bit uncomfortable until the situation is over and sometimes even after the situation is over.

I like wandering around places I am not familiar with, which is because (1) I am good at remembering routes when I am wandering on my own (2) I can ask the people around for directions if necessary and (3) most importantly, I have my phone and mobile data in case something happens. GPS, my loved ones, or the emergency number will save me. I know what to do if things go wrong. I am comfortable.

In social situations I let myself go at my own pace, whatever that means at that moment. I don't have a full outlined list for what to do here if something goes wrong, but that is because multiple bad experiences with public humiliation and bullying mean that I really, *really* don't like thinking more about such situations more than necessary (like therapy).

I don't like detailed plans. I like having ways out. I like knowing what to do too so that I have a baseline. Something to build off of, something to either follow or ignore. This doesn't seem detailed enough for a built secondary nor free-style enough for an improvisational secondary.

I daresay I have never felt powerful in my life. Having a plan is safe. Being able to act uninhibited by thoughts and worries is freeing. But I never feel powerful. Never. And honestly, being in a position of power scares me, so I am not well-equipped to recognise the feeling in the first place. I don't remember much from my childhood and teenage years because I have actively suppressed memories in the past, so looking to my younger years won't be any help.

If you have read till here, and are willing to give me a response, I just want you to know that there is no need to do the in-depth analysis that you typically do. I would have paid you for the proper in-depth analysis but I am not in a financial situation where I can do that.

Thank you. I hope you have a nice day.

Hi tumblr user catboy-balls :)

So what I think is going on is that you're a Rapid-Fire Bird secondary. You like having all the tools and all the prep going in, so that when you're *doing it,* you can just play. Rapid-Fire Birds will often look like Snakes, but only if they're operating within their area of expertise. Take them out, and they'll function, but in a way that feels uncomfortable and stressful instead of fun. (Bird secondaries who are not given the time/ability to prep for a certain circumstance will also often look like frazzled Lions.)

Because you clearly do approach situations with a *plan.* Like, you can happily wander an unfamiliar city, but only because:

You have a good map-brain

You know how to ask people for directions

You have your phone, which includes -

GPS

Emergency phone numbers (family and friends)

Emergency phone numbers (official services)

You've laid it out as a nice little list for me, and implied that you have a similar system in place for social interactions (even if you don't have "a full outlined list" because doing that puts you too much in your head. I'd be very surprised if you didn't do the Actor Bird thing as well, and have a "social persona" that you can take out. (Maybe one that's Badger secondary flavored?) But it's still prep-work, because putting in all that invisible work beforehand makes you feel better and safer, not bored, constrained, and like you're doing work twice or second-guessing yourself.

also, DM me if you want a link to the discord server. I know I don't type people as much as I used to, but there are tons of people there who have fun with it.

[forsakenconfessionbooth]

Do any of you have any tips on how to get better as an elliot main/guest 1337 main? I'm on a crappy computer which lag half the time and I don't have a mouse; I've only played for like.. around 8 hours individually on forsaken?

Okay I'm an Elliot main but I suck at sentimentals in general so I'll let the other mods add onto that. I also sometimes deal with lag but I usually don't play if it's really bad so I may not be able to help with the lag and lack of mouse problems but here's what I got for ya:

1: For the love of God save Rush Hour for emergencies, I make this mistake often. Don't be like me

2: Healing other Elliot's won't unlock Rush Hour, till try to heal them when you can because more healers will benefit the team

3: Priorities who too heal, the pizza cool down is long as balls so try to think of who needs it most and if you can get it to them, example: How far are they? Are they being chased? Can they heal themselves? eg: Shedletsky's chicken and Two Time's stab.

4: Since Elliott can briefly see who's hurt once they've been hit, make sure you don't lose track of where they are, I do that all the time it's annoying.

5: If you're on a map with hazards, eg: Yorik's resting place with the poison river, then maybe try to not throw the pizza in that general direction. Also maybe try using shift lock if you have trouble aiming.

6: See a Medkit? Grab it! Elliot ties with Two Time for lowest max health (when they're not in their second life) so making sure that you stay healthy is vital.

7: You probably know this already but you're gonna get targeted, a lot. Worse if you got the Spawn location that's closer to where the killer spawns. So if you are unlucky enough to get that spawn, forget the nearby generators and run away to the other survivors.

8: Okay this one is VERY situational BUT if you're like me and use the friend Elliot skin and the killer is annihilation John Doe, it's very likely that they'll leave you for LMS because of the theme.

I hope this helps, I'm only milestone 1 for Elliot because I was a Two Time main before the rework. Mod Elliot can probably add onto what I've got here.

[sepublic]

Given the speculation of Beyond involving time travel to explore different versions of a planet (probably Cylosis) across time, I wonder if there’s any connection to the scrapped pitch known as Metroid Prime 1.5?

For context: Before Retro Studios settled on Echoes, they had different ideas as to what the sequel to Prime would be. One of their first ideas was 1.5, which was about Samus being trapped on a big spaceship. The idea was for the map to be quite small compared to Prime’s, only the size of the Chozo Ruins and Phazon Mines combined.

How can you get a full-length game from such a small map? The ship would be controlled by an AI with four personalities; Each time a personality took control, it would alter the environment in some way, so when Samus went back through the same rooms it’d still be a different experience. So for example, the gravity might change, allowing Samus to walk along the ceiling of previous rooms; Literally exploring them from a different angle!

There was even mention of time being reversed, causing enemies and environmental actions to occur backwards; Think a water faucet pouring back into itself, which could’ve been exploited by Samus to go through it in Morph Ball mode, and see what’s on the other end without the water pushing her away from it.

Retro pitched the advantage of being able to have a more compact game (in terms of space) while still having more or less the same gameplay experience as Prime. More space on the disc could be left for other functions and the like. Nintendo did turn it down and we got Echoes instead. But now…

If we go with this time travel mechanic, we could get one single, giant area for Beyond. And time travel would be used to explore different versions of it, progressing through this altered area from a different direction, etc. The general shape is still there, but the environmental overlay, enemies, and various other elements are different, which changes the path; You’re not just retreading the same one from before from a different direction.

You know how in Fusion, environmental events could change the same rooms you’ve visited, railroading you into a different path? So like B.O.X. smashing a hole in the ceiling, the SA-X destroying a door, or the indestructible Kihunter cocoons blocking passageways, before opening them up again once the Kihunters emerge fully-grown. It’s like that.

Who knows? Maybe Beyond could have segments requiring you to hop across various eras in time, across different versions of the same map, just so you could get into a room that is normally inaccessible from the rest of that era’s version of the map. A simple version of this: In the past, a giant tree is grown over a room with an upgrade. Samus enters a different era where that tree is gone; Then goes back in time, and the tree is there again but so is the upgrade! It could lend to a fun puzzle-solving experience, especially if you have to era-hop a bunch for one particularly elusive room. And making time flow backwards for individual elements could be brought back, as mentioned earlier.

And as a callback to that time reversal mechanic I mentioned earlier, Samus could be able to prompt that herself in select locations, using an upgrade; Replace the water faucet with a waterfall, that she can now ride up! Like Tears of the Kingdom, Samus can shoot down a branch or rock, climb on, and then use the time reversal to ride all the way back up. In fact, maybe that conspicuous pipe in the trailer is meant to set this up; Use the time reversal mechanic while inside the pipe in Morph Ball mode, to access the rest of the piping it was attached to in order to find an expansion on the other end!

By having just one base map, and most of the difference coming from environmental overlays and other assets, it could save a lot of space on Beyond’s cartridge for other things as well; Maybe this is part of the reason it looks and runs so well on Switch! We could explore the planet from different eras; Think an ice age for a frozen level, or a prehistoric era such as the rainforest. And the Federation base built over in the present.

We could see how this planet has grown and changed and evolved, maybe even see enemy species literally evolve across time, evolution diverge or converge, etc.! The jump from rainforest to the present’s different terrain seems drastic, until you find an era in-between that better transitions between the two’s different layouts.

Instead of named regions or planets, it’s named historical eras; Like how we have the Jurassic or Mesozoic. Instead of exploring a region called Torvus, it’s a historical era named Iketh, something like that. Maybe Sylux was plucked from their life in the past by Federation experiments with the Black Hole device, and they’re just trying to get back to a specific time range, right when they disappeared, to resume the life stolen from them. Sylux can’t just undo their chrono-abduction because that’d create a paradox, so they have to settle for having survived a brutal future.

[whumperfultime]

June of Doom Day 16

@juneofdoom

Prompts: "At least it can't get any worse." | Secret | Stranded | Setback

Contains: Hidden illness, fainting, fever, platonic caretaking, the emotional whump of dealing with a vehicle breaking down in the middle of nowhere, and mentions of vomiting/nausea, police, and bruises/beating

In which the Crew is forced to adapt to a series of frustrating obstacles while trying to finish their current mission. And somebody pushes himself too hard.

~

It was jobs like this that tempted Kalei towards an early retirement.

The actual theft was the easy part. Sneak into a secure storage facility, steal back their client’s stolen artwork, get out and get to the rendezvous point. Once there, they would return the art and receive the rest of their payment.

Luck was on their side at first. The guards’ patrol ran on perfect time, which made entry easy. One of Dace’s gadgets made quick work of the electronic keypad lock on the storage unit. The unit itself was well-organized, which saved them from a time-consuming search for the items they needed. Every one of them remained calm as they neared the end of the job. Matago split off to move the rental transport parked down the block while Kalei and Dace took cover and moved the artwork to secure crates for safe travel.

When they emerged, they found a guard pinning Matago to the ground next to the transport and requesting backup and law enforcement over the comms system.

Kalei managed to fight the guard off while Dace loaded the cargo, then she took over as the getaway driver. Matago came out of the scuffle with a split lip and blows to the face and stomach that would undoubtedly bruise later. With their cover blown they couldn’t even risk a five-minute stop at a convenience store to pick up a first aid kit.

It wasn’t long before security determined that the robbery victim also happened to be the man who oversaw the region’s law enforcement.

Matago used his tablet to keep an eye on police and media activity as best as he could. As expected, given the target, they were quick to set up roadblocks along all the major routes leading out of the city. One of which was their way to the rendezvous point.

So they adapted. Matago pulled up a map of the area and guided Kalei on a winding and nonsensical route down back roads and into the forest beyond city limits. Kalei remained tensed the entire time, expecting cops around every turn and obsessively checking the rearview mirror for anyone following them.

What was meant to be one hour’s drive would take them closer to two or three at this rate. Kalei tried, against her nature, to focus on the positives of the situation. They were on an isolated road that the cops were unlikely to search. It was dark enough that anyone who happened to live out here probably wouldn't recognize the transport from the details released on the news. Since it was remote, she could even drive a little above the speed limit, which would get them there faster.

And…the headlights were flickering.

And the transport powered down without warning.

The three of them sat in stunned silence.

Kalei shoved the door open as hard as she could and clambered out, walking in the direction of the trees lining the road. Fuck an early retirement. Disappearing into the forest forever was the best option at this point.

“I’m gonna assume that this was an unintentional stop?” Matago called from behind her.

She whirled around, trying to suppress the sheer rage threatening to overtake her. “No shit, Mat!”

“It wouldn’t be the cops, right? Like…could the rental company somehow turn the transport off from a distance? Or track us?”

“I don’t know!” Before she could stop herself, she kicked the useless hunk of metal in its side. “All I’m thinking about is setting it on fire!”

“It’s okay.” Dace was the only one of them to sound calm, raising his hands in a gesture of peace. “It’s probably nothing. Looks like a common issue for this model…should be an easy fix.”

He set to work retrieving his toolbox and investigating under the front hood while Kalei and Matago took a seat on the grassy roadside. It had been a while since they last saw another transport on the road, but that could change at any moment. All three of them knew enough about wilderness survival that they could probably make it back to the Azaphia if they had to ditch the rental, but Kalei doubted they would be able to haul the artwork with them.

“Why couldn’t my dad have had a stupid boring office job?” she muttered. “Or at the very least encouraged me not to follow in his footsteps? Then I could have joined normal society and lived a normal life. I could have been sitting on a comfy couch drinking wine with a beautiful wife right now and instead I’m here.”

“You’ll feel better once the money’s transferred to your bank account,” Matago told her.

“Assuming we make it that far.” She did another scan of their surroundings. Still no sound besides the crickets and no light besides the glow of Dace’s work lamp. It didn’t do much to help her relax, but the moment of stillness gave her a chance to take some deep breaths. “How are you doing?”

Matago shrugged. “Still hurting a little, but I’ll be fine. Thanks for fighting that guard off, by the way.”

“I guess we just missed one.” Kalei clenched her hands into fists, then forced herself to untense. “This night sucks.”

“The universe can only give us so much bad luck at once. Hopefully it won’t get any worse from here.”

He could barely finish speaking before Dace collapsed onto the pavement, unconscious.

Kalei was at his side in an instant, rolling him onto his back. He had no visible injuries, nor was he having any sort of seizure. But when she touched his skin, she found it burning hot. The work lamp illuminated a thin layer of sweat on his face.

“What happened?” Matago demanded. He peered into the jumble of mechanical parts in the transport’s front compartment, checking for anything that might have caused it.

“I don’t know…he’s overheated, that’s for sure,” Kalei replied.

Dace’s brows drew together and he let out a quiet groan, struggling to open his eyes. “How’d I get on the ground…?” he slurred.

“I think you fainted.” Kalei pulled him closer, resting his head on her lap. “Take it easy. Seems like you have a bad fever.”

“Oh, yeah.” There wasn’t an ounce of surprise in his tone.

“Mat, can you get my water bottle from inside, please?” Matago opened the driver’s side and began searching. “When did you start feeling sick?”

Dace squinted as he tried to think clearly. “Woke up feeling sick. Threw up before we left for the job and I’ve been nauseous since then. Fever kicked in on the drive here.”

Kalei’s eyes widened. “You’ve been sick since this morning?” He nodded. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

“Figured I’d walk it off.” Matago returned with the water and Dace paused to take a sip. “I was gonna tell you on the way to the rendezvous, but the night went to shit. Didn’t wanna make it worse.”

If he weren’t already suffering, Kalei might have smacked him on the back of the head. Even more frustrating was the knowledge that she probably would have done the same thing if she were in his place. “I don’t care if you get sick before, during, or after a job. You tell us next time, understand?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, waving her off. A tired smile came to his face. “Transport’s fixed, by the way.”

“Good. Then we can get you to a doctor once we get paid.” She and Matago hoisted him back to his feet. He swayed for a moment, then seemed to regain a sense of balance. “Mat, take over driving if you can. I want to sit in the backseat with this one in case he decides to keel over again.”

Within a couple of minutes they were off again. Despite the warmth radiating off him, Dace started shivering once they were back in the transport. Kalei scooted closer to try and combat the chills with her own body heat.

“Jus’ gonna get germs from me back here,” Dace mumbled. Still, he leaned into her touch.

“It doesn’t matter. Have some more water, yeah? And try to rest if you can. We can pull over if your stomach gets too upset.”

Dace didn’t reply this time, just let out a quiet hum as he closed his eyes.

The worries that surrounded her earlier that night were more distant now. As she draped her jacket over him, all Kalei could focus on was the relief that he was safe.

[unnecessarily-neurodivergent]

If you were, unfortunately, anything like me, you're in a situation where flying under the radar was not an option, and you're willing to take a HIGH risk for some unguaranteed safety later.

I used to live in apartment as a child, so sneaking out the window wasn't possible since I lived in the 4th floor, but if you're thinking of it as an emergency run, grab as many pillows and blankets you can, backpacks with pillows in them are great for making sure your weight won't completely go throughout the soft foam, clothes, and even food can be worth it to soften your landing when you jump/climb out. It saved my life when I had around 20 minutes before my mom got home from work and I knew I was gonna get hit to death, and being locked inside the apartment, my only option was to jump, I got a nasty scar, a concussion and a dislocated shoulder from it, but I survived and managed it.

Get good at stealing and lying, might sound bad but it's definitely worth it for when you need it. Make people think you're bad at lying, and get in trouble for minor things from time to time so that you can work on bigger issues under the cover of small damage. Steal food and a valuable item, get (purposefully) caught for stealing food, make them think that was the main issue and hide the valuable item for a few weeks before selling it, preferably as far as possible from your house. I was lucky to have a bike which I had to ride to school, and during lunch time I'd ride out as far as possible and then sell it to a person that would already be waiting for me. That was a good way to make a good amount of money fast, but it was a incredibly high risk.

Study. Sounds like shit, I know, but you have no idea how many times I got my life saved by knowing some medicine/chemistry/math/law. Knowing how to make stitches, how to treat an infected wound, how to use medicinal herbs, understanding how to fake an illness literally is the reason I managed to get out of that hell hole of a life.

If your window have bars, and you can reach the corners of it, use the handle of a spoon or just a spoon to carve out the wall on the edges of it, took me months to get all four edges worn out enough so I could kick it out when needed.

Know the basics of street fighting, you never know when they could snap and become violent enough to actually kill you. Fight dirty, bite, kick, punch the throat, eyes, use anything near you to push them away or get them to loosen your grip on you so you can run. Your objective is to get the chance to flee and get to safety.

Pocket knifes. Always. Easier to hide, fast to reach, good for small but distractive enough damage.

If you smoke or drink, use the packs to hide money, empty beer cans work too as long as you're sure they're dry and that you're able to tell them apart from the ones who go in the trash.

Convince them they're in control, give THEM a false sense of security just right before you run away, it'll get them confused for a moment and unable to react properly, so it gives you a small window of time to erase any trace or disorientate them while you flee. I did this by laying low for 2 months and actually distancing myself from everyone and submitting to their rules for a moment before grabbing everything and taking the train to the next town. I had two days to destroy and throw away my phone and change my appearance before staying quiet for a while.

Find a map of where you live, memorize it. Make sure you're able to at least know where you are in the middle of the night without your phone or any directions.

Fake names, get used to them, fake names, fake ages, fake stories, don't get attached, if you're not sure you're absolutely safe yet, never reveal your past, don't say anything, it can and will hunt you down when you least expect it.

Get good at making shit up on the spot, like, having to convince a family to lend your their leftovers and afterwards saying "it's a social experiment about the acceptance of homeless people in our town" or "carety" and shit. Make it about them, people love it when they think they're the topic of your interest.

Get a small, portable, digital camera you can hide to take proof of things without your phone.

Always carry an aid kit.

Be aware that the weight of things will drag you down for a long time. I did a lot of things I'm not proud of for the sake of my safety, but life isn't fair, and sometimes you gotta be the biggest predator to avoid getting eaten.

hey so protip if you have abusive parents and need to get around the house as quietly as possible, stay close to furniture and other heavy stuff because the floor is settled there and it’s less likely to creak

[dailyadventureprompts]

Random Encounter: Rift Events

The thinking DM’s alternative to “rocks fall, everyone dies”

Sometimes a the heroes fuck up catastrophically. They fail to stop the dark ritual in time, they sever one of the anchors of reality in the midst of a battle, they drop the doomsday artifact down a very long flight of stairs and it ends up breaking. You could end the campaign right there, improvising a hasty epilogue and send your party home for a couple weeks while you prepare to start from scratch.  Alternatively, you could use the narrative stakes you set up for yourself and do something interesting. 

One of the most important writing lessons I’ve learned as a DM is to ask myself “what happens if the party fails” as a means of giving my writing richer dramatic stakes, because unlike most forms of fiction a d&d campaign can’t have an ending predetermined by the author. To that end it’s a good idea to have some options in your back pocket for when your party goes so far off the map that you couldn’t have possibly prepared for this eventuality. Taking inspiration from the “Doomscars” of Kaldheim, a rift event represents a breach in the fabric of reality accompanied by a natural disaster, the result of either a catastrophic release of magical energy, the fracturing of fate, or planes smashing into eachother with the force of sizemic shifts. 

To quote Jason from The Good Place: “I'm telling you, Molotov cocktails work. Anytime I had a problem and I threw a Molotov cocktail, boom! Right away, I had a different problem.“ And that’s exactly the ethos we’re looking to bring to the table with a rift event. Whatever stakes your campaign had at the moment, whatever crisis your heroes were gearing up to face, they suddenly have a VERY different crisis which you can eat up the rest of the session ( or the session after a cliffhanger) with to buy yourself more time to figure out the long term implications of what your heroes have done.

Consider some options below:

Your party, every one, and everything are suddenly sucked into a different plane as the world is overturned around them, giving you time to move the plot forward back in the material plane while they play out a short “ get back home” arc. The Astral Sea is a great place to dump them out, as it’s not only a shocking contrast to your mundane campaign world but can also provide novel means of transport home.

The area your party is standing is now having an earthquake, which they desperately need to escape through skillchallenges and cooperation. When they finally get clear and survey the damage, they realize that not only did they put a dent in the world, they went and created a portal to some other reality, which is now bleeding mosnters and weird magic into the material plane. Bonus points if the villain/loved ones/the mcguffin is now on the other side of the rift, forcing the party to choose between dealing with the newly emerged threat or go perusing their original goal.

Awaken a Kaiju. No really, having your mid to high level heroes inadvertently release the tarrasque or some other giant beast is a great way for them to get back to the monsterhunting days of the early campaign, AND a convenient way to not have to explain why no one mentioned the campaign ending threat lurking in the wilderness before now.

Consider Divine intervention. There’s no better moment for the gods to make themselves known then when all seems lost. This interference can be as direct or subtle as you’d like, either coming as a devil’s bargain or an act of otherworldly compassion. My advice is to reward the character who’s the most pious (even if they’re not the cleric) or the most in need of saving, and have the intervention take the form most apt for the particular divinity. A god of healing may give the lost one more desperate breath of life, enough for the heroes and bystanders to pull them from the rubble, while a god of knowledge might reveal that the past 24 hours have all been a vision, forewarning of what WOULD happen if the party makes the unwise chose. Also feel free to throw a fiendish or eldritch twist to this, with faustian pacts being made to pull the world from the fire.

[hindisoup]

Online/phone vocabulary in Hindi

I did it, I finally did it - switched my iPhone to Hindi. It's been a blast finding my way around familiar apps over the past couple of days. First of all, my phone is finally showing me the respect I deserve by calling me आप and I'm quite chuffed!

Since many social media and technology-related words are just English written in Devanagari script (like टैग or फ़ॉलो) I haven't felt quite as lost as I could have I guess.

In the list below I haven't included many Hinglish words as they are quite self-explanatory but I have taken note of a bunch of words I was already familiar with but hadn't realised the way they are used in modern Hindi online lingo - such as जोड़ना which I've learned to mean to add, link or combine (like pieces together or whatnot) - but which is used apparently to also in the same sense as to post or attach something - e.g. 'Fiona ने एक नई फ़ोटो जोड़ी' on FB.

Here we go:

Phone

संपर्क - contact (masculine) आपातकालीन संपर्क - emergency contact (masculine) प्रथमाक्षर - initials (masculine) छूटी - missed (call) (adjective) निम्न पावर मोड - low power mode (masculine) सक्रिय करना - to activate (transitive)

Email / messaging

प्रेषित - sent (adjective) तारांकित - starred (adjective) प्रेषक - sender (masculine) प्रति - to: (postposition) अपठित - unread, unseen (adjective) चिह्नित करना - to mark (transitive) गोपनीय - encrypted (adjective)

Text editing

संपादित करना - to edit (transitive) सहेजना - to save (transitive) रद्द करना - to cancel (transitive) पूर्ण - done (adjective) नक़ल बनाना - to duplicate, make a copy (transitive) रीड ओनली संस्करण - read-only version (masculine)

Social media

सदस्य - user, subscriber (masculine) हालिया - recent (adjective) नवीनतम - latest (adjective) अनाम - anonymous (adjective) असली पोस्टर - original poster (op) (masculine by default) स्त्रोत - source (masculine) छवि - image, picture (feminine) जोड़ना - to attach, post (transitive) प्रतिक्रिया - reaction, response (feminine) उल्लेख - mention (masculine) रुझान में - in trend, trending (adverb)

Browsing

मुख्यपृष्ठ - front page (masculine) दर्ज करना - to enter (a code or information) (transitive) जांच जारी होना - to be searched (intransitive) परिणाम - (search) result (masculine) शीर्ष - top, most (masculine) निम्न - low, less (adjective) सारांश - summary (masculine)

Settings

ध्वनियाँ - sounds (feminine, plural) खाता - account (masculine) सूचना - notification (feminine) सुचित करना - to notity, inform (transitive) गोपनीयता - privacy (feminine) निजता नीति - privacy policy (feminine) मानक - standard (adjective) समर्थन करना - to support (software) (transitive) प्राथमिकता देना - to prioritize (transitive) प्रचलित - prevailing (already saved) (adjective)

Video/music apps

प्रशंसक - fan (masculine) नमूना - sample (masculine) विजेता - winner (masculine) संपादक - editor (masculine) चयनित / चुनिंदा - chosen, selected (adjective)

Shopping

मुद्रा - currency (feminine) समीक्षा - review (feminine) प्रायोजित - sponsored, promoted (adjective) क्रम से लगाना - to arrange, sort

Calendar

आमंत्रित - invited (adjective) अस्वीकृत - declined, denied (adjective) समाप्ति - end (time) (feminine) समय क्षेत्र - time zone (masculine) आरंभिक वार - starting day (of the week) (masculine)

Maps

आगमन - arrival (time) (masculine) उपग्रह - satellite (feminine) प्रदाता - provider (masculine) भोजनालय - restaurant (masculine) दिशानिर्देश - guidance, directions (masculine)

[visd3stele]

Go, go, darling agents (superhero/vigilante au!) PART 1; PART 2; PART 3

tw: torture, angst, psychological trauma, self hate, lmk if anything else should be here

masterlist

A sharp breath bubbled up in his chest. Water was dripping from his body slowly – drop... drop... drop...! The sound of small pools forming at its feet scratched his thoughts.

"Billy!" Your laugh tingled, he thought. It was better than music or magic. "We're supposed to be training."

drop,

"Do you trust me?" You had asked in his first mission. "We're a team now," you smirked, "you have to cut me – us – some slack."

drop,

"You're not alone anymore, you hear me? I'm here for you. We all are. Never letting you go, Blackbird."

drop!

"Wakey, wakey, Blackbird."

Before Billy could understand the teasing undertones of the unfamiliar voice, waves of cold water splashed him from every direction.

Hair got in his eyes. He tried to see through droplets of water and strands of hair. But his eyes were squeezed shut tight in pain. The shock passed through his body and before Billy could register what he was feeling, the burning cold edges of the shock weapons touched him again. Then again. And again.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

"We'll find him, y/n. We'll find him." Matt tried to reason with you.

You were currently pacing a hole in the floor if the Round Room, as Billy named it. The center of all decision making, mission planning and emergencies being fixed. Matt hoped he could sooth you, as a sped up, electric mind helped no one. While Frank, hovering over a holografic map of the world and a mini laptop safe from hackers, tried to locate Billy.

If he's still alive, passed through your mind. "Shut up!" You raised your hands to cover your ears, or pull at your hair, or clasp them over your head to shrink your skull and silence the voices for good. You didn't know which was the reason, but it didn't matter. You didn't deserve peace of mind.

"Y/n..." Matt whispered, a bit scared, a bit taken aback, mostly worried. And in the same concerned tone he continued, saying he's sure Billy will be fine, it's Billy. Telling you how he understand your pain, they feel it too. But there was nothing anyone could have done. It's not your fault. The only thing left to do is save him.

But Matt was wrong. He can't understand your pain. You know how much they both love Billy, but with you it was something else. It was you Billy opened up to. About his childhood, his trauma, his hurting. It was you who knew his fears and struggles, the story behind every scar, seen or hidden. It was you who earned his trust and promised to never add to his collection of wounds, physical or otherwise. And you disappointed him.

Because it was your fault he got captured. "I could've used my powers," you shake your head. "We could've never be in the situation to choose between the people and Billy if I did."

Your words were met with silence. Matt rasped a shaky breath. He expected you to blame yourself for the choice, to which he was ready to comfort you, but not this. Even Frank snaped his face towards you, mouth agap, eyes widened. They all knew about your powers and how you've got them. But the reason you never use them is justified in their eyes. So much as they never question you fighting like any ordinary human, even if it means loosing. Even if you waste an advantage.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

Billy woke up again. A funny feeling in his leg. He tried to look down, but his numb muscles wouldn't comply. There was something wromg with his face as well. Pain leaped from every pore. Shifting, wrinkling or wincing shoot daggers in his cheeks, forehead, nose, chin. Blinking hurt. Breathing through his nose hurt, though he suspected that has more to do with the pain in his chest.

Panic scourged in his veins. As consciousness slipped back to his brain, Billy managed to make sense of his surroundings. Thick walls of bricks, mold snaking its way from openings; a paved floor, dirty and webbed with creeks, a low ceiling, the one of a basement of sorts, perhaps.

His tired, heavy head was pulled down by gravity. Fighting against seemed an effort too grand than it normally should be, but Billy managed to raise it and look down at him.

The feeling in his leg came from a chain, accesorised with millions of tiny needles, wrapped tight around his upper calf, biting in the flesh. His gear pants - torn apart, mudded with sweat, dirt and dried blood. Angry red sprinkled around his fingertips reminded him of what his brain willed to forget. The beginning of hours of torture.

Nails pulled out, bones cracked with a hammer, electric shocks. Billy wondered what happened to his face, if his body looked so miserable. He vaguely remembered talks about breaking him through breaking his handsome looks. His fuzzy mind wished for a mirror to inspect himself better.

Steps echoes from behind the thin door right in front of the metal chair he uncomfortably has been seated upon. His mind snaped, like a too stretched rope, into focus. "Think, Billy, think," your voice dared him. Eyelids lowered involuntarily. The hint of energy he inhabited suddenly wearing off. "You have to escape. Come back to me." You touched his face, soothing the heated soreness of his cheeks, and leaped away through the opening door, vanishing in the dark hallway.

"Ready to talk, pretty boy?" Instead of your friendly presence, enemy agents walked in. And Billy's mind begin to roam free once more, conjuring happier moments to ground and strengthen him.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

There were three more kids in front of you. Older. The others were escorted back to their rooms. They were even older. And behind you there were many more. Younger. Or, at least, that's the conclusion you came to. You didn't know their ages. Nor did you know yours. But the ones behind you looks like you did a while ago and the ones in front of you look a bit closer to some of the scary people with with coats.

You let your mind wonder to balm the nervousness. Sir said you were here for safety. That the world is a dangerous place. You didn't have pictures of them, since all of you were brought in as kids. But you saw how the younger kids grew to look like the adults bringing them in, so perhaps your parents looked like you. Or you looked like them. And if the world is so harsh, why are the adults left to suffer? And are all of them able to get their kids to safety? You shiver thinking about the poor ones out there. Unless, of course, you're not the only ones.

Sir says you can go out when you're old enough. To help fix the world. There must be where all the other friends that grew too much went to. He promised you'll meet them in a couple more years.

"Y/n, step front, please." Sir's helper said with that sickly sweet voice of her. She was tall, hovering over the tallest of you all. Taller than Sir, even, when wearing her loud shoes. The pointy ones.

You wobbled forward on shaky feet. Ice gripped your heart, travelling your veins to cool your body and rest at the back of your mind. You didn't want to upset Sir, but this part of your day you hated. Fixing the bad, bad world can't feel this... bad, right?

"Ready, dear?"

Deep breaths. Focus. Intent. Power.

You reminded yourself of the steps, counted to three, inhaled. Counted to five, exhaled. Repeated a couple of times. Listening to your lungs, growing, increasing. To the air filling your body. You focused on the strange essence you felt inside. Allowed it to feel you, envelope you. When you opened your eyes you were weirdly aware of the dim, unnatural red light of your irises. As if you could see yourself without a mirror. Like you could see the outside of your body and the inside of your body. And all the other bodies.

This part, you liked. What came next, as well. For you saw small spheres with even more smaller spheres inside floating in the air, the walls, the water in Sir's helper's bottle. Everywhere. Sir taught you these were particles. Molecules. Atoms. Everything is made of these little spheres. And you can control them.

Filled with joy, you tried to separate them. Identifying the oxygen and the hydrogen in the water. But the joy was short lived. The voices came in next. Sir wouldn't explain them to you, or why they'd show up more and more often even when you're not reaching out. But he assure you you'll be fine. All you have to do is surrender to them. Let them guide you. They're the power you are in control of.

But they were loud. And mean. Telling you horrible things. They begged to be released. You were their guardian, Sir said. Distinguish your own voice and make it louder.

"The table, y/n. Make it disappear."

You frowned. Your head ached, throbbing with too many noises. Some you understood, some not. Sweat ran down, soaking your hair, burning your eyes. The image of the table became blurry. With a moan, you pushed your hand stretched forward and felt each part of the wooden table. Crumpling it between your finger until it vanished.

"Marvelous, y/n. Now put it back, two inches closer to you."

You tried, but the voices were too loud and you couldn't find yours anymore. "This is all we do? Listen to he old man?

We can make him disappear.

Drain his blood and move it outside his body.

Or take the woman's vocal chords. She's so annoying.

Make the air toxic would be fun."

There was a heavy smell in the room. Your lids fluttered close, fighting invisible bodies inside your own. You barely felt the sting in your upper arm, numbing your senses, putting you to sleep.

When you found out the actual story behind Sir's lies, you gave in to the power. The image of dead bodies at your feet, everywhere you went, running towards your escape. Some were rotten in seconds, some missed parts and limbs, some were pale with no more blood to be found, some were blue and purple from lack of air or too much water. If someone asked you how you did all that, kill an entire H.Y.D.R.A facility of not only soldiers, but innocent prisoners - kids, your friends - as well, you couldn't explain. You didn't want to try, for it meant remembering. And you'd rather lock that memory deep in your mind, right next to the voices of your power, and never let it out again.

°•▪︎~▪︎•°

A rough hand angled Billy's head upwards, his neck cracking painfully in the process. "So you're the type of scams y/n keeps around, eh?" The H.Y.D.R.A. agent mused. "I expected something more from a child I raised."

Billy's swollen eyes widened as much as they could in surprise. Then he spit in the man's face, hatred burning through his whole being. The man released his grip, wiping the liquid off his face. "You still got some fighting left, son, eh? And for what... or should I say whom? You're so loyal to them, your team, y/n, but they're not loyal to you. No. They're loyal to the cause: shielding the innocents. That is why you're here, son. Their betrayed brought you here."

"Fuck off," was all Billy could say.

The man tsked. "You know it's true, son. Accepting it will make it easier. They don't deserve you. Nor do they want or care for you. Otherwise I wouldn't have gotten my hands on you to do all this."

The other agents in the room lit up some flash-lights and handed the scientist a mirror. Billy was forced to see his split lips, open wounds criss-crossing all over his face, uneven cuts traversing from left to right, up and down, some shorter, other longer, all gruesome. Layers of skin peeled around each one. Some would hang loose, moving in the breeze of the scientist's fingers trailing his work with admiration and adoration.

"Do you like it, Blackbird?"

Billy heard the whisper throbbing all the way to his core. But he couldn't process it. Process what he saw. All the pain suddenly went away. Only the image in the mirror remained. A hauntingly hollow picture, chasing him in loopy nightmare he can't escape from.

Tear pooled in his eyes. He wasn't aware of the. They spilled their salty water into the freshly cut flesh. He didn't seem to feel. Much later, Billy would remember how he cried and shook. How he tried to break the cuffs holding him back and grip the mirror - or push it away. How he hit his head against invisible walls, Yells of despair scratching his throat. But for right now, all of it was happening without his conscious mind present. It was the labor of an animalistic instinct summoned free.

"I hope you do like it. Don't forget to thank y/n and those friends of yours... if they can find you and you resist that much."

[nicocastillo]

·✥·

When she melted away from his touch, Nico tried not to react. But the hurt was real, a deep ache cutting through his sternum. It had always been a relief to him that with her intangibility she had an escape, a way to get free of anything that tried to trap her or harm her. It had pulled him free of chains and kept her safe from monsters. Now she pulled away like he was a danger to her. And maybe he was—the flicker of her eyes and the way her real voice broke through echoed through his head. But he couldn't fight this, he couldn’t even hold her. He wouldn't try, then, even though every instinct he had was screaming at him to try and reach her again. Nico's jaw set, and his eyes widened at the bloodied map that she held up. It didn't take more than a second to realize which him she was referring to. A low growl emerged from his throat.

It hadn’t been a conscious thought, maybe, not until he broke out of prison and Jasmine’s fear of her father became a daily shroud hanging over them, that they only sometimes managed to forget. But if he was honest with himself, Silas has signed his own death warrant years ago as far as Nico was concerned. He’d seen enough of the pain that man had caused Jas to know he wanted Silas very, very dead. “Okay.”

He began to walk past her in the direction the map had marked on it, and dug in his med pack. "You’re still weakened by blood loss after the magic's done it's thing, right?" He lifted a small roll, medical gauze and tape, indicating that he would hand it to her without touching her. "If you want, you can wrap those cuts for now, save your strength however you can. And I can keep off anyone else who tries to get in your way." Nico met her eyes steadily. "I want to make sure he doesn't get a chance to hurt you again. So, what's the plan? I'll follow your lead, use me however you want. And if you don't want my help at all, you could just push me into a grave and leave me here," he added, with a dry laugh, earnest even through his desperation to stay by her side, to make sure she made it through this in one piece. "But I'll probably crawl out and find you again anyway." His voice fell to a near whisper. "I'm pretty pathetically devoted to you, mi vida, in case you haven't noticed."

"Hurry up," Jas warned. Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth as she tapped her foot impatiently against the ground watching the nervous witch she had bound attempt to plea with her to let them go. "Just do the spell already," She told them, not even flinching as her own blood dripped down her wrists. And why would she? She didn't care. Not about anything or anyone and she certainly didn't spare a passing thought to the helpless witch whose ankles were being held by hands of the deceased. Their grimy fingernails tightened around the witch's ankles, holding them in place as Jas leaned forwards and let her own blood drip down onto the map she had laid out before them. "Track him." Find Silas Chamberlain. She had yet to stumble upon on her father, but she was fairly certain, knowing him, that he'd try to play this whole spell off as some gift and, on any other day, she might have been pissed. But, today, she found herself agreeing with her. Her dad had given her the best gift she could have possibly asked for, because without empathy, she had nothing holding her back. She could finally kill him.

"Done. Now please let me go?" The witch she was holding captive begged. Glancing down to take in the map that now marked Silas' location, Jas gave the other a slight nod in approval. "Good job and as promised," With a flick of her own wrists, they were released. The witch scurried a few feet away only to clumsily disappear into the shadows. "Amateur," Jas tsked, but she had gotten what she had came for. She didn't have tracking magic herself, but using her own coven, she was able to find his location. Bending over, she plucked up the map and turning on the balls of her feet only to find herself starring at her boyfriend.

"Well, you shouldn't have," She told him point blank as she began to push past him. "Go home, Nic-" She started to tell him. But, the next thing she knew, his hands were cupping her cheeks as his forehead brushed against hers. "Nico?" A soft whimper broke from her lips as her eyes flickered momentarily from the jet black swirl of magic to amber brown. "I-" No. She shook her head, using her intangibility to slip out of his touch and move a few steps back. Her eyes returning to the unnatural shade of black as she told him, "Don't do that again. I mean it. I'm fine, Nico. In fact, I'm better than fine." Ignoring the fact that she currently had open cuts on both of her wrists. "I'm going to kill him," She told him in a matter of fact way, holding up the map in her hand that marked Silas' location as if to show him.

[dylanobrienisbatman]

I would die to see you live

| Mal x Alina | Rated M | Temporary Character Death | 6.7k |

Mal's death plays Alina's mind over and over, like a terrible dream stuck on repeat. The only thing she sees when she closes her eyes is his face in those final seconds before he was lost forever. And so, Alina drinks her pain away and, through it, she searches. Searches for a mythical place called The Wishing Island, where your deepest desire can be granted. Everyone believes The Wishing Island is just a myth, but Alina knows its real. It has to be. She isn't sure where to go next when she meets the famed pirate, The Wraith, who might just be able to show her the way.

Written for @troped-fanfic-challenge Throwback event, following a prompt from Troped: Visual!

---

Rain and salt spray mixed with blood dripped from her brow and down over the bridge of her nose, her sword twisting as she pushed it up through the bottom of his jaw. There was no sound except her own screams echoing in her ears, the pounding of the rain, and the echo of Mal’s last manic, gasping laugh.

The sun peeked through the window of her captain’s quarters, shining directly over her face and waking her from her dream. The sea was calm, the boat rocking evenly, and the skies were clear of anything more than a few puffy white clouds scattered over the blue expanse. Quite cruel to be awoken from such a horrible dream by something so peaceful.

But it wasn’t just a dream, she reminded herself, just as she had done every single morning in the last year when she would awaken after reliving the memory. The agony she felt in every moment since was real too.

Alina slid out of her bed and pulled on her trousers and button down shirt, shoving her feet into her knee high leather boots before heading down to the galley to track down some food and coffee before heading back into her quarters and settling behind her desk, shuffling the papers together to clear off the map at the bottom of the pile. She grabbed the flask of whiskey stashed in a drawer and added a healthy pour to her coffee before taking a sip.

It had been three months now, out at sea, thanks to Captain Stormhund. He had been there, in the moments after Mal’s death, blood staining the deck. And he had been there in all of the months since, pulling her out of bars and saving her from the gallow at least once. She took another sip of her coffee, glancing up and letting her gaze fall on the compass that rested on her shelf. The brass was dull now, the glass scuffed, but the compass face was still remarkable, clean with sharp contrast between the gleaming black and the stark white. It was Mal’s.

Had been Mal’s.

‘The north on this compass, it’s all about the magnetic fields of the earth.’ He would say, his voice low under the crashing of the waves on the hull as he pointed in the direction the arrow was pointing.

“You don’t even know what that means.” She would answer, every time and he would look offended even though it was true. He had heard it once, from an old scholar who had decided to follow his dreams to the sea. Mal had been three sheets to the wind and had barely remembered the highlights. She still liked to let him tell her about it anyway.

“Well, do you know which way east is?” He would ask, and she would roll her eyes.

“Of course I-”

“East is the direction the sun rises.” He would interrupt, looking very serious.

“And west is the opposite? Oh and I’m sure you’re going to let me know that south is the opposite of north?”

“Actually, south is to the right of east.”

“Oh, yes of course.”

But then he would take her hand and use it to point to the lowest point in the sky, just above the horizon line, where a bright, gleaming star had just emerged. She was sure that he had no idea what the star actually was, or if it even was a star and not a planet, but this part always made her heart race in her chest. He would make up a different story every time, a star in some constellation he had heard about, a planet named after an old god she had read stories about, but it didn’t matter. He would stand with his chest pressed against her back, his arm flushed against hers the whole way to her fingertips, and his soft voice in her ear, whispering long forgotten tales.

The ship rocked hard, jostling her out of her memories and back into the bright cabin. She took another heavy swig of her coffee before tipping in more whiskey. She had to meet with Stormhund today, but nothing said she had to do it sober.

When his ship appeared on the horizon, sails wide and taut even in the less than ideal wind conditions, she felt ease and agony engage in a dance in her chest. To see Stormhund and The Dragon Queen, her dear friends, would be a relief, but she had demanded they meet aboard her ship for a reason. Even seeing its vibrant green hull she felt the bile rising up in her throat. Those last images of Mal had never truly left her mind, but seeing that ship again brought them back in brilliant color.

Zoya stepped across the planks between their ships first, her glossy black hair shining in the midday sun, followed by Nikolai’s blond hair, a shining crown amongst his men. Alina was there to greet them and lead them into her quarters, offering them a coffee or a whiskey, to their preference, which they kindly accepted. The meeting was nothing more than formalities, Alina asking about cost and Nikolai refusing to tell her anything, insisting that it was no trouble, Zoya asking about the crew and Alina trying not to get any of her loyal men on Zoya’s bad side, but, after a time, the room fell quiet, and Nikolai brought up the subject they had all been avoiding.

“Have you had any luck at all?” He asked, leaning across the table with a sincere look of pity on his face that made Alina want to throw her cup at the wall. “We’ve had all our best scholars on it, but none of them can seem to find anything about this…”

“Wishing Island.” Alina supplied through a tight jaw.

“Wishing Island.” He nodded, trying to look supportive. “They’ve either never heard of it, or if they have, they say it’s all myth.” Zoya stayed silent, her crystal blue eyes darting back and forth as she watched the exchange.

“I know what everyone says but I just-” Just what? Couldn’t give up? Couldn’t move on? Couldn’t face the world every morning knowing Mal was lost forever? “I just have to keep trying.”

They kept talking about meaningless things for a while longer, but they all knew it didn’t matter. Alina would die on this ship, even if she was the last person willing to search for the answers, she would never stop. The light had gone out of her world when Mal had died and there was nothing she could do but spend every moment trying to get it back.

The Dragon Queen and her pirate lover stayed for dinner, their crews mingling and drinking across the decks of the two ships until the sun had fallen behind the horizon and the last rope between their ships was being hauled back home. Zoya stood tall on the edge, clinging to the ropes to hold steady as she waved Alina off with a breath of wind that caught the stark white of Alina’s sails and sent her off in search of a hopeless, lovesick cause.

Link in the Notes!

[cloudywriter]

the lost princess of terrasen

rowaelin month - september 7th 

prompt: fairytale au - (an anastasia au in this case)

important: okay y’all so i went way overboard with this entire au and it got out of hand so now this might just be a full-blown thing. however, with that whole releation and me going crazy with outlining and writing i could really only have this much of the story out and ready for today but i plan on continuing it!! hopefully after rowaelin month. enjoy this little introduction :)

(cw: brief descriptions of violence) 

masterlist, AO3

~~~

At freshly 18, Celaena Sardothien was free. She’d aged out of the orphanage and was finally released to go live her own life, no longer held down in the outskirts of Rifthold. Celaena didn’t want to wait a second longer, the need to leave the horrid place she’d lived the last ten years was ingrained in her bones. 

The woman who ran the orphanage, Clarisse, was cruel. From a young age, she poked at Celaena, commenting constantly on her weight or how she didn’t act like a proper young lady. Her entire life up until this point was spent at the mercy of Clarisse and her stern ways. All the girls in the orphanage were treated as maids and dolls for Clarisse to manipulate. But, Celaena made it, counting down the days until her birthday. 

Now, here she was, stuck out in the cold. She’d imagined her freedom to be more alluring than this instead she was shaking as she wandered through side streets that led to the heart of Rifthold. She carried with her a backpack barely full of her meager belongings and the too-thin coat on her back. Clarisse didn’t even spare her a hat to keep out the cold so she moved her hair to shield her freezing ears the best she could and waddled along the snowy pavement. 

She still had her kingsflame necklace around her neck, though, and that’s all that mattered. Where she had gotten it from she hadn’t a clue. The first memory she possessed was waking up in the very orphanage that would become her prison. Clarisse explained to her that she’d hit her head and a nice man named Arobynn had brought Celaena to Clarisse to be cared for. Clarisse questioned her about her family and upbringing relentlessly but Celaena could not recall a thing. Her mind was blank. For many nights as a young girl, she’d sit upright in the creaky, lumpy bed she occupied and willed herself to remember. She’d cry and scream, banging her fists into her head in frustration when nothing ever surfaced. 

The only connection she had to whatever life she lived before was her kingsflame necklace. And she’d follow that kingsflame to the ends of the continent if it meant she’d one day solve the mystery of her existence. 

Which led her to the first stop on her journey of discovery, Terrasen. Once Celaena had accepted that her memories weren’t coming back and this was the life she’d have to lead she adjusted. She served Clarisse and went to the small, dilapidated school down the street with the other orphans. There she discovered her love of books and the meager library the school offered became her sanctuary. It was there while she read a book on the kingdoms on Erilea, hoping something would strike her familiar she learned that kingsflame flowers only bloomed in one place, the capital of Terrasen, Orynth. 

As a child that discovery was a revelation. Terrasen. Maybe she was from Terrasen. 

As Celaena walked she felt her toes growing increasingly numb, Adarlan’s winters were bitter and she was not equipped with the proper wear. Her teeth chattered but she pushed forward, she needed to get passage to Terrasen. 

She drew the map out of the pocket of her coat once again and checked the status of her journey. Only a little longer until she was at Rifthold’s main dock station. 

The city of Rifthold was big and Celaena felt out of her depth as groups of people swarmed the streets walking to and from their different destinations. It was overwhelming, the smells, the tall buildings, the weather, the noise, the sheer number of people, everything. 

Eventually, she saw the lights of the station and she blew a sigh of relief, she hadn’t been very confident in her ability to read a map. She approached a man sitting in a booth behind a sheet of glass, smoking a cigarette. 

Celaena stepped up to the counter. 

“Hello, sir, I’d like to buy a ticket to Orynth,” she gave him a smirk, leaning casually on the box. She’d learned from many years of coexisting with Clarisse and a revolving door of people that to make it through life you needed a mask. Celaena had crafted her mask carefully and had perfected her act after so many years. She exuded arrogance and confidence so that another soul would never see the scared, lost little girl she truly was. 

The man grunted, blowing a puff of smoke from between his cracked lips. “Do you have your papers, girl?”

Her brain stalled. Papers? She cleared her throat, “papers?”

“Yes,” his scratchy voice replied, “you need papers to cross the border.” 

Celaena’s heart sank but she kept her expression neutral. “Well, I-”

“Listen, girl, I’m not going to sit here and waste your time so don’t sit here and waste mine. If you don’t have the right documents then I can’t sell you a ticket, simple as that,” he held the cigarette between his teeth. 

She searched for some way to turn this situation around, chewing on her bottom lip. 

From the shadows a little ways into the dark alley adjacent to the docks, she heard a hissed whisper. “You, blondie,” an old woman emerged slightly from the shadows, beckoning Celaena forward with her index finger.  

Celaena looked around, the man in the booth was already back to ignoring her, his nose stuck in a newspaper so she decided to approach the woman. She didn’t have much to lose and Celaena thought if it went south she could take her. 

Celaena crept closer, tightening her grip on the strap of her backpack. 

“You need papers?” Her voice was hoarse as if her throat was made of sandpaper. Celaena nodded her head keeping her guard up, watching her surroundings out of her peripheral. 

“I know who can get you some,” her face morphed into a slight smile that unsettled Celaena more than anything. Celaena furrowed her brows, “who?” The woman tsked at her, her hot breath forming a cloud in front of her face. 

“That kind of information isn’t free, my dear.” Celaena had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, everything came with a price in this world. 

Celaena reached around to the side pocket of her backpack, fishing out a few coins she had to spare. She’d saved just enough from doing odd jobs to pay her fare to Terrasen. She deposited the coins into the palm of the old woman’s hand, her knobby fingers running along their smooth edges. 

“Go a few streets north and into the red brick warehouse with the large windows, you can’t miss it. Ask for a Mr. Rowan Whitethorn, he’ll get you the papers,” she instructed, hoarding the scant sum of money she was given as though they were priceless heirlooms. Celaena turned her head in the direction the woman directed as if she could spot the warehouse from here and by the time she rounded back the woman had disappeared once again. 

Celaena huffed and shot another glance at the ticket man, he was still paying no attention, tapping his cigarette out with his finger. She didn’t necessarily want to go on a wild goose chase to obtain these papers but she had no other way of getting them so she breathed deeply and shoved her hands into her pockets and twisted north. 

The woman was right about not being able to miss the warehouse. It was a large, old, imposing structure, clearly, it had not been in use for some time now. Celaena crept closer peering into the foggy windows as she passed the front of the building. She couldn’t see anything and was unconvinced she’d find the elusive ‘Rowan Whitethorn’ inside. 

Nonetheless, she approached a rusting metal door on the side and pushed it open with her gloved hand. The door protested but it miraculously opened revealing a wide area stacked high with boxes along the walls and corners.

She ventured further into the space, dust and broken glass crunching beneath her boots. She didn’t see any signs of life besides maybe some rats. As she neared the opposite corner what could’ve been a makeshift sitting area came into view, blocked from view initially by a stack of boxes. She approached noting the circle of crates, a dusty blanket, and a few books piled on the side. 

She peered at the title of the book on the top of the stack. 

The Royal Family of Terrasen. Mixed emotions surged through her body. 

“Who’s in here?” A male voice boomed nearly rattling the windows. Celaena shuttered, letting her bravo fill her bones as she heard a set of footsteps enter the space. 

+++ 

Rowan Whitethorn’s life since the fall of Terrasen and the reign of the Valg had been a hell-hole, to put it bluntly. His family fell out of status, his parents were slain in the ambush on Orynth’s castle, and Rowan was left in an unfamiliar land at twelve years old. 

A sect of the Whitethorn house had been visiting Terrasen’s court for the holidays when Maeve made her move against the continent. Doranelle crumpled first to her rule and Terrasen followed, the army of Valg she’d amassed was too large to stand against. Adarlan only survived because King Dorian bowed down to Maeve. 

Even now at twenty-two, he has nightmares about that evening. The terror he felt as Valg poured into the ballroom and slaughtered the royals. The terror he saw in the princess of Terrasen’s eyes as she was shoved into the kitchens by her nursemaid where Rowan had happened to take shelter as well. He was scared too, running as soon as his father screamed at him to as the Valg slit his throat. He regretted it deeply, leaving like a coward when the palace was invaded. He regretted the cowering he did in the kitchens as well but when the young princess had burst in the doors, tears flowing freely down her cheeks something had come over him. He had pushed her out into the snow yelling at her to run and she did, scrambling to find her footing.

The rest was a blur, the Vlag hurried into the kitchens soon after but somehow Rowan made it out with his life. The same could not be said for many people in the castle that night. 

Now, Rowan lived in Rifthold as a thief and doer of other’s dirty work. He longed for the day he could get out of this city of nightmares crawling with Valg. One day, he promised himself, one day he’d have to funds to make it back to Wendlyn and witness what had become of his home. 

There was an opportunity, though, that’d heard about from whispers on the streets. Aedion Ashryver. One of the few survivors from Terrasen’s downfall. He chosen to stay in Terrasen’s territory afterward, the country had no real structured ruling now. The old King-Consort Darrow was the closest thing there was to a king but from what he’d gathered the man is old and weak, not the same after the death of his husband, King Orlon. Terrasen had virtually crumbled. 

Somehow, Aedion had built up the Bane and gained standing for himself. A standing he was using to campaign to find his long-lost cousin. How Maeve hadn’t gotten wind of Aedion and his plotting and squashed him, Rowan wasn’t sure. Nevertheless, Aedion was offering a hefty reward for the return of his dear Aelin, the nation’s true queen, convinced she was still alive.

Rowan thought the operation was useless. Her body was never found, that was true, but he imagined she’d likely fled into the Oakwald forest and perished from hypothermia not long after. If he could make a pretty penny from returning the ‘princess’ to Aedion, though, he wasn’t above doing so. 

All Rowan needed was a young, blonde, and blue-eyed woman he could convince to join his cause and he could coach her to be the perfect replacement for Aelin. Truthfully, he wasn’t convinced this could ever be achieved but it was something he’d contemplated. 

Rowan was making his way back to the warehouse he liked to operate his more shady business out of, the biting cold seeping into his clothes. The looming, muddy red-brick building came into view and he pushed the frosted metal door open. Immediately, he was aware that someone had invaded his space. 

Small footsteps had disrupted the layer of dusk along the floor. His hand flew to the dagger strapped to his chest as he prowled further inside. 

“Who’s in here?” he called out, gripping the dagger tightly by its handle. Once he got far enough into the space he could see a young woman was standing near his makeshift seats.

The first thing he noticed was she was beautiful. Long, golden blonde hair flowed down her shoulders, her skin was pale and her lips had a blue tint to them. Rowan pushed aside all those unsavory thoughts, she was an intruder after all. However, he couldn’t help but study her, she was dressed far too light for the dead of winter, not even a hat on her head. 

She looked right back at him, accessing him as he was her. She didn’t look scared to have been caught trespassing, no, honestly, she looked annoyed as if he was interrupting her. 

“Who the hell are you?”

~~~

let me know if y’all like it so far and would like to see more, xoxo

[capseycartwright]

your love takes me there, this I swear

buck loves just about everything about eddie - but he especially loves his hands. 

or, musings on how buck fell in love with eddie because of his hands. inspired by this gifset of eddies hands and my utter lack of self-control!

ao3 link

Buck loves just about everything about Eddie. Really - the list of things he loves about Eddie is long, and possibly embarrassing, and ranges from the perfectly mundane like Eddie’s smile, to the downright cringey, like how much he likes the tiny, adorable snuffling noises Eddie makes when he’s sleeping on his side. 

Buck loves everything about Eddie -

But he especially loves his hands.

Buck’s not entirely sure when he first noticed Eddie’s hands, but he thinks it was probably fairly early on in their friendship. It sort of came with the territory, noticing hands - hands that worked to save someone's life on a medical call, hands that fought fires. Buck probably noticed fairly early on, because he had to watch Eddie work, and how could he not notice that Eddie had quick, clever hands - hands that had clearly seen plenty of medical emergencies before and knew how to work quickly and effectively? He admired it - even underneath all his initial assholerely, Buck admired it. Eddie was a clever guy, and good at his job, and he’d been a threat, in the beginning, and then he’d quickly become Buck’s best friend in the entire world.

Eddie’s hands were focused, and clever, at work - they had been from day one. Buck, to this day, liked to sit back and admire Eddie’s hands when he could. Eddie’s hands were clever, and they were strong. Every day of his life, when Buck put his uniform on and started work, he put his life in Eddie’s hands, and Eddie had never given him a reason to question the unwavering faith Buck had felt from the moment they’d worked to save that man’s life in the ambulance. Eddie’s hands were the hands that Buck trusted to double-check his harness, when he was going to do a rope rescue - it was a job Buck had never really even trusted Bobby to do, always doing a third check when someone else had checked him over, just to be sure - but Buck trusted Eddie to do it. The routine was familiar, now - Buck would harness up, and Eddie would double-check every clip, every knot, tugging and tightening with a practiced ease and familiarity. 

Eddie’s hands were the ones who would operate the winch, when Buck was doing a rope rescue. Buck always felt safe, knowing Eddie’s hands were the ones that were holding onto his rope, that Eddie’s hands were the ones his life was in. Eddie’s hands were the safest place Buck had ever known. Eddie’s hands were the ones he felt on his shoulder, during a fire, reassuring him that Buck wasn’t alone. Eddie’s hands worked alongside his, to wrangle hoses and pull victims out of fires. They were hands Buck knew as well as his own - hands that felt like an extension of his own, while they worked. 

He noticed the way Eddie’s hands worked, first - and then he noticed how Eddie handled Christopher. Buck was probably biased, yes, but he firmly believed Eddie was the best father in the entire world. Eddie - he never babied Christopher, never made his son feel less than, he was never cold with Chris, never denied his son anything. The first time Buck met Christopher, he’d driven Eddie to Christopher’s school, and he’d watched as the hands that had saved lives in the aftermath of the earthquake had lifted his son into a relieved hug with a gentleness Buck hadn’t seen from the older man, until then. 

Eddie’s hands were always gentle, and loving, with Christopher. Over the years, Buck had watched as Eddie’s hands had ruffled Christopher’s hair, hands that had helped Christopher with his crutches, hands that had supported and loved the little boy in all the ways Buck had never experienced in his life. He thinks - in hindsight - watching Eddie with Christopher only ever helped Buck fall completely in love with Eddie. Eddie was soft, and kind, and gentle, and patient with his son - even when Christopher was throwing the kind of epic tantrum Buck wasn’t sure he’d know how to handle, Eddie would simply give his son a firm look, and with gentle hands, direct him to the couch and explain that they needed to talk about their feelings - not shout about them.

How could Buck not fall in love with the hands that tucked Christopher into bed every night, hands that put Christopher’s glasses aside when Christopher fell asleep while they were reading - hands that easily lifted Chris from the couch and into bed, after movie night, hands that were raising the best kid Buck knew. Eddie didn’t give himself enough credit, if you asked Buck - because he was the greatest example of fatherhood Buck had ever seen, and he got to see it every single day. Buck felt like he learned from it - learned how to be a role model, putting Eddie’s parenting into practice as Jee-Yun got older and Buck’s role in her life felt infinitely more important than ever.

Buck noticed the way Eddie’s hands worked, first - and the way they loved Christopher, second. 

The way Eddie’s hands loved him was the greatest revelation of Buck’s life. Looking back - Eddie’s hands had been telling Eddie’s secrets for years, long before Eddie himself had ever confessed his feelings for Buck. Buck remembered the first time they hugged - really hugged, and not the slap on the back,  bro-style hugs that had dominated the first few months of their friendship. 

No, their first real hug had been after the bombing - Buck didn’t like to think about those few months, all that much, and he liked to think about the time he spent in the hospital even less, but there was a moment that he liked to think about. Buck had been alone - which was rare, given the shifts the 118 and his family took to keep him company as he recovered - and Eddie had come, late, after a shift, and he’d found Buck crying. Buck had been too tired and emotionally wrung out to be embarrassed, and Eddie had simply wiped away his tears with those magnificent, healing hands, and he’d hugged Buck close, as though he could squeeze him hard enough and put all the broken pieces of Evan Buckley back together and from that moment Buck was sure the only place he could truly be happy was when he was being held in Eddie’s hands. 

Eddie’s hands had told the story of his feelings long before Eddie had said the words out loud - hands that offered Buck coffee, on his bad mornings. Hands that took Buck’s keys from him, on the days he was too tired to drive, hands that bundled Buck into the passenger seat of Eddie’s car. Hands that lingered and hands that held Buck close and hands that loved and said so much long before either of them had found the words for what had started burning between them so many years previously.

Buck remembered the moment it had all been set alight - and you’d have to forgive the ironic metaphor, for a firefighter, but he wasn’t sure there was any other way to describe how it felt to finally love Eddie loudly and freely - it was as though his body had been set alight with it all and Buck had been so fucking happy to burn because it was Eddie, and maybe that wasn’t all that eloquent but Buck would walk through fire every day of his life if it meant he got to have five minutes at the end of every day with Eddie - he was just lucky that he got Eddie for so much more than 5 minutes, he got to have Eddie all the time.

Eddie had kissed him first. Buck would always remember the moment - the way their argument seemed to stop, right in the middle, because suddenly, you could cut the tension between them with a knife and something shifted and changed and Eddie was cupping Buck’s face in those beautiful hands of his and he was kissing Buck like he was worth something and pleading with Buck to understand that regardless of anyone else - Eddie couldn’t live without him. 

Buck loved being loved by Eddie’s hands. Over the years, it felt like Eddie’s hands had mapped every single inch of Buck’s body - Eddie’s magical, magnificent hands knew exactly where to touch, where to tickle, where to hold. God - Buck would never get over how it felt to be held by Eddie. Eddie had big hands - and the multitude of entirely not PG fun that brought about aside - Eddie’s hands were big enough to make Buck feel held. Eddie’s hands felt like they spanned the entire expanse of Buck’s ribcage, familiar and grounding when it felt like Buck’s lungs were being crushed with the weight of the anxiety that felt like it was never going to let him be, even after years of therapy and talking and recovery. Even then, Eddie’s hands were steadying, keeping Buck above water.

Buck loved to hold Eddie’s hand. Eddie’s hands - just like the rest of Eddie - were warm, warm and calming and familiar and Buck took every opportunity he could to link his fingers with Eddie’s - across the centre console of the car, in the grocery store, sitting on the couch watching TV after Christopher had gone to bed. 

Buck could write a novel, about the way Eddie’s hands felt - calloused, and a little rough, the result of a life spent working manual jobs that required those helpful, healing hands of Eddie’s. They were still soft, though - soft, and warm, and familiar, and the greatest comfort Buck had ever known, whether that comfort was in a ridiculous haunted house Chimney had forced them to go to (it was, in Buck’s defence, actually terrifying, and he’d been justified in holding onto Eddie’s hand with a death grip), or whether that comfort was the steadying presence of Eddie by his side as his doctor had quietly admitted Buck’s yearly scan of his leg had shown a strange abnormality. Hands that had held Buck close as he panicked, and cried, hands that had shared in Buck’s joy as everything had turned out to be just fine. 

Hands that had shaken, as he’d proposed to Buck. They’d talked about marriage, in that vague, far off, maybe one day sense - and if Buck was being honest, he wouldn’t have minded if they had never gotten married. What they had, the love he and Eddie shared, was too big to be described only by marriage and a ring - but Buck couldn’t deny the thrill that had gone down his spine as Eddie had gotten down on one knee and produced a ring with shaking hands and asked Buck to make it official.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Buck hummed happily, leaning back against Eddie as his husband slotted himself behind Buck on the couch on their hotel balcony, bracketing Buck’s hips with his knees. “Just thinking,” he said, marking his place in his book, twisting a little so he could look at Eddie. The four days of glorious, uninterrupted sunshine had done wonders for Eddie, a healthy glow to his skin that could only be the result of a slow, lazy, ‘we’re not doing a single adventurous or touristy thing’ kind of honeymoon. 

“About good things?” Eddie asked, those glorious hands of his threading through Buck’s hair, familiar as they tugged at his salt-water matted curls. 

“About you,” Buck admitted, twisting his fingers with Eddie’s, taking a second to admire the bright platinum wedding band that sat there - a wedding band Buck had put there only a few short days ago. It was simple, plain and thin to anyone who might give it a passing glance - and engraved on the inside, decorated with words that would only ever go a fraction of the way of explaining the love that Buck felt for Eddie - love that consumed him in the best and brightest and most welcome ways. 

“I’m right here,” Eddie reminded, as though Buck could forget that he was on a blissful, week-long honeymoon with his husband in a very fancy, very quiet, five-star hotel. It had taken them a long time to get to where they were - and so they had decided they were going to savour every single second of their first week of marriage. 

“I know,” Buck reassured, pressing a kiss to the back of Eddie’s hand. “I was just reminding myself of how much I love you.” 

Eddie’s smile was the most glorious thing Buck had ever seen - forget art, and music, and ancient cities full of history. No, Eddie Diaz’s smile was one of the greatest wonders of Buck’s world. “I love you too,” Eddie reassured, his other hand coming to rest on Buck’s chest, right where his heart was, and a part of Buck wanted to scream it in time with the thrum of his own heartbeat, to try and make Eddie understand what Buck still felt like he didn’t have the words for - it’s yours, it’s yours, it belongs to you.

Buck loved Eddie’s hands - hands that healed, and helped, hands that had given Buck hope, hands that loved. 

Hands he was going to get to hold onto forever. 

[abbyilr1967]

Out of Time - Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Summary: Peter and Y/n have been together since the events of Spiderman Home Coming. One day while on a field trip Y/n and Peter are called into action as strange aliens claiming the be the “Children of Thanos' ' begin invading New York.

A/n: Finally finished the first rewrite, and am quite proud of it. If you were a fan of this mini-series a year again, I’m sure you will like this as well. As per usual, if you are new here, here is a link to my Masterlist, as well as a link to the Out of Time (Rewrite) Masterlist.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, some fluff if you squint, and ANGST.  

WordCount: 2.7k

The morning had begun the same as usual that day. When you roll over to turn off your alarm you see that you have a text waiting from Peter. He was always up before you and always sends you a text or cute gif to wait up to in the morning. Today you and Peter were going on a school trip, so you were going to meet him at his place and walk to school together. 

~

You and Peter were sitting together on the bus riding to the destination of the trip. Peter was against the window staring out over the water as the bus crosses the bridge, while you were facing the aisle talking to MJ and Ned. As you’re listening to Ned ramble on about his new Lego set, you feel Peter tap your shoulder 

“Y/n,” You turn to Peter and find his gaze is still glued to the window. “Over there,” he says pointing at the giant ring-shaped ship floating above New York. 

“Oh god,” you reply. You turn to Ned and start tapping him to get his attention. “Ned, we need you to cause a distraction.” Ned can see the panic in your eyes as you and Peter try your best to be as quick and discreet as possible. 

“I’m on it.” Ned stands in his seat and points towards the floating ring in the sky. “Hey everyone, look! We’re all gonna die!” he shouts. 

As everyone moves to the back of the bus to get a look at the strange-looking spaceship, Peter flings himself off the bus to put his suit on. You monitor the situation on the bus while Peter suits up. 

“I’m ready.” he leans his head back in the bus window. You take the opportunity to engage the jet boosters your father had built into your shoes in case of emergency. Once you are safely floating outside of the bus you engage reconstruction of the ironman suit you and your father had built together. As the helmet finally closes over your head you lower yourself so Peter can hop onto your back. 

“It’s headed downtown!” Peter says through the earpiece your father had connected to both your suits. Using your now iron-plated jet boosters your fly after the ring-shaped spaceship 

~

As you and Peter arrive downtown you see your dad and bruce trying to fight off this massive alien that looks like it came straight out of a sci-fi novel. The creature backhands your Dad into next week and before you can react, Peter is already there to block the next blow. Next thing you know, a flash of blue and red flies past you. 

“Y/n!” your Dad calls to you. “I thought you were on a field trip?” he shouts. 

“I don’t think now is the time to be asking those kinds of questions Dad, Woah!” As your father distracts you from the literal aliens in front of you, you’re almost knocked on your ass by a large piece of rubble the thing had decided to throw in your direction.

“We’re here now. You can’t change that. How can we help?” 

“That guy, floating wizard in the sky, he’s got something important.” Tony points towards the strange-looking man wrapped in a cape and some oddly bent metal. “We can’t let these guys take him, go get him.” 

“We’re on it.” Peter responds as he flings himself past you once more. 

You catch up to the wizard and latch onto the metal bars that are tied around him, and use your jet boosters to keep him from being sucked into the space ships tractor beam. Peter uses his webs to latch on as well, but the beam was too strong and begins pulling both you and Peter towards the ship. 

“Uh… Dad.” You struggle to fight the force of the tractor beam. 

“Mr. Stark, I think we’re being beamed up!” Peter shouts as the webs connecting to the closest buildings snap. 

“Now is not the time for jokes Peter.” Your father’s tone in your earpiece tells you that he’s not impressed with the young hero right now. “Get out of there.” 

“Dad, we’re losing him.” your voice strains as you try your best to keep a hold on the wizard.

A bit of the metal snaps, and the force is enough to pull the man into the ship. Peter’s web is cut off by the door closing before he has a chance to enter. He’s landed on the side of the ship, and it looking to you for any ideas. 

“We need to find a way inside.” Peter gives you a quick nod before you both separate to look for an entrance. 

You use your suit you fly around the exterior of the ship, while Peter starts searching along the inside of the ring. 

“Peter we’re too high, you’re running out of air!” you exclaim through your earpiece. Flying back around towards him.

“We need to save the wizard,” he replies sounding short of breath. You stop and anchor yourself to the ship. 

You watch as Peter pulls his mask off, attempting to get more oxygen. Only to watch his eyes roll into the back of his head as he lets go of the side of the ship. 

“Peter!” You push on the side of the ship immediately, readying to chase after him. 

“I gotcha Pete.” your father’s voice rings clear in your ears, as you watch a piece of his tech launch towards Peter. His body jerks as the small rocket makes impact along his back, and watch as a suit very similar to yours starts to wrap around him. 

You listen carefully through your earpiece for any sign of breathing from Peter. His sudden deep inhale is enough to let you know that he’s going to be ok. 

“Woah, Mr. Stark these are some cool upgrades.” he sounds ecstatic through the earpiece, even considering he almost plummeted to his death. “It smells like a new car in here.” 

“Alright great, F.R.I.D.A.Y. take them home,” 

“What?” the map in the corner of your vision, showing the route it plans to use to fly you and Peter home, and just like that both you and Peter are swept away. In the haste of everything that is going on, Tony failed to make sure that Peter didn’t attach himself and you to the side of the ship before he went after the wizard.  

~

“What are you two doing here?” Tony asks in his angry Dad voice. He found the two of you when you were attempting to listen in on the conversation your father was having with the wizard.

“We were just trying to he—” 

Tony cuts Peter off. “Nope. Your mother,” Tony says pointing to you. “And your Aunt,” He says pointing to Peter. “Are going to kill me if they knew you were in space. This is too big of a fight for you two to be a part of, I don’t know what I’d do with myself if one of you got hurt,” he says, concerned.

“How can we be friendly neighbourhood heroes, if there’s no neighbourhood?” Peter asks. 

You and your Dad both look at him weirdly. 

“Ok that was bad, but you get what I mean,” he said. 

“Peter’s right Dad,” you say as your masks retracted from your face. You look straight into your Dad’s eyes. “Fine,” he starts, knowing that you’re stubborn just like your mother. Your dad motions to knight both you and Peter. “There, you’re Avengers now.” 

You and Peter both look at each other and smile. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you into the air, planting a kiss on your lips after setting you back down. 

“Alright, keep the public displays of affection to a minimum, we need a game plan.” the wizard said. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met, I’m Y/n, and this is Peter.” you say extending your hand out to him. 

“Dr. Strange,” he says coldly. 

Peter leans over to whisper in your ear, “We’re using our made-up names?” “I guess so,” you say jokingly. 

“I’m Spiderman,” he says. You snort as you see the confused expression from Dr. Strange. Peter sees you laughing and shoves your shoulder. 

You look over to see your Dad fidget with the control panel of the ship. 

“We need to turn this ship around,” Dr. Strange said.

“Whelp, it’s on auto-pilot, so we are on our way right to Thanos,” Tony says to Dr. Strange. You remember them mentioning a man named Thanos during their conversation before you and Peter were caught by your dad. You pull Peter off to the side as the realization of what you’re about to go through sets in. He could see the distressed look on your face.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he asks. 

“I’ve never seen my Dad so worried like this before,” you say nervously. “I think we might be biting off more than we can chew.” 

“Hey hey hey hey hey,” he says pulling you into his chest” We’re gonna be fine, when having we ever given up.” Peter’s hand runs up and down your back in an attempt to calm you down.

“You’re right,” you say leaning into his touch. “You always know what to say,” 

“I mean… I try.” You both chuckle softly at Peter’s attempt to lift your spirits. 

“C’mon, let’s go back.” He gestures 

He gives you a forehead kiss and one last tight squeeze before leaving to talk strategy.  

~ 

You had crashed onto a planet known as Titan after a “flawless” landing by Peter and your father. You were waiting for the arrival of Thanos when you were ambushed by a group of travellers. They immediately attacked, and in the haste of it all, they grabbed Peter and threatened his life. That only caused your father, the ever impulsive man he is, to threaten the life of one of their own in return. 

“We are the Avengers!” you shout over all the testosterone. 

“Wait, so you’re not with Thanos?” The man holding the gun to Peter’s temple looked as confused as ever, which prompted you to explain to him that you were there to kill Thanos.

After some brief introductions and explanations, you learned that the group refers to themselves as the Guardian’s of the Galaxy, and their names are Starlord, Drax, and Mantis. They explained to you that they were here looking for Thanos because they are trying to rescue their valued member of the team.  Your father gathered everyone together to try to work out a plan, to which newbies were skeptical. With the introduction of these Guardian’s of the Galaxy to the initial plan, you were confident in your ability to take down Thanos here and now. Once a plan was in place, everyone went to their places, ready to ambush him when he arrived. 

That’s when we heard it. The sound of heavy boots stomping onto the planet. 

You look over and can see Peter, he locks eyes with you. 

“I love you,” you mouth to him. 

“I love you too,” he mouths back. You nod, eyes lingering on your boyfriend. If things go sideways you want to make sure you’ve memories every detail of him. 

You are waiting for your cue from Dr. Strange who has been talking to Thanos to distract him. 

“I’m sure you will find our will much stronger,” and with that you attack. 

Your father came rushing in, crashing a building down on top of him. All of you stood around thinking that he was dead, little did you know, it only made him angrier. He burst out from under the rubble and Peter tries to use his webs to hold him down, but he only used it against him. He pulled Peter towards him and caught him by the throat. Only to them slam him into the ground. 

“Tiny insect,” you could he Peter struggling under the weight of Thanos. 

“Let him go!’ you shout as you rush toward him with your iron hammer fist ready to punch him. 

You go in for the punch. Your fist almost makes contact with his jaw, but not before he let Peter go, and grabbed your arm instead. Hurdling you across the battlefield. 

You are thrown into a pile of space rubble, the wind knocked from your lungs. Your vision had gone blurry, and you struggle to regain your balance but you could see your father in all his rage, fighting Thanos. You got up and could see that Mantis was up on Thanos’ shoulders, keeping him in a headlock while she put him in a trance.

“Y/n!” your Dad called. “We almost got it off, hurry!.” 

In an instant, you were right by Peter trying your hardest to pull off his gauntlet.

“So close.” You groan, struggling to get the tight-fitting gauntlet off the last bit of his hand that was still inside.

That’s when he took control of his mind back, waking up from the trance Mantis had put him under. He shakes you all off, but not before Thanos grabbed you by the throat. 

“No!” you could hear Peter shouting. 

“So small,” he said. “Barely lived a life, and yet so ready to give everything up to save everyone,” you spit in his face. 

“I’d rather die fighting you than sit home doing nothing,” you croak. 

“Your wish is my command,” and he squeezed harder. The corners of your vision started to become blurry, and your lungs begin to burn. 

“Stop!” you hear Dr. Strange. “I will give you the time stone if you let the girl go,” 

“No, don’t.” you struggle. “Don’t do it.” 

He took a minute to contemplate. “Fine,” he says chucking you to your father’s feet. Peter comes running over. 

“Y/n, your gonna be fine,” he says as he holds you. 

You open your eyes and can see just as Dr. Strange is giving the stone to Thanos. 

“No,” you sigh. Peter holds you tighter as you try to wriggle out of his arms. 

Just then a wave of power shook the ground, and you saw it. The sheer power that the gauntlet holds. And before any of you could do anything, he snapped. 

The world shook, and he was gone. And you had a sick feeling in your stomach. 

“He’s gone,” your father said quietly. 

“It’s my fault,” you said, moving into an upright position and out of Peter’s lap. “I should have done more.”  

“You did enough.” Your father reassures you. 

“You should’ve let me die if it meant saving everyone.” You glare at Dr. Strange, storming over to him. “You said that if it came down to it you’d let us die. So why didn’t you keep your promise!”  Your face is just inches from his. 

“There are fourteen-million, six-hundred-and-five realities in which Thanos wins, and only one in which we win.” he states. 

“I realized I couldn’t risk letting any of you die, because I’m not sure who saves us all.” His lip trembles, you can tell he’s just as infuriated with this situation as you are.

“Guys?” You turn around and find your father and Peter looking over towards where Drax, Starlord, and Mantis are. They’re turning to dust. This prompted you and Peter to both look over to Dr. Strange, just in time to see him turn to dust as well. 

“Dad?” you ask, panicked. 

“You’re going to be fine-,” you Dad started to say, rushing over to you. “Peter?” 

“I-I-I don’t feel so good,” Peter said. “Y/n, I-I-,” he stumbled into you. You held him tight, you can feel him become lighter and lighter. 

“I love you,” is the last thing you hear from him before he turns into dust.  

“Dad! He’s g-gone,” you tried to hold back a sob. Remnants of Peter lay in small flakes of dust on your palms. 

That’s when you felt. It started in your hands. You looked down with tears in your eyes as you see your hand start to crumble. You look back to your dad.

“Daddy.” you whimper. 

And the last thing you saw was the look on your father’s face as his heart broke, and your vision went black.

[homogrimoire-archive]

Love Letter

Chapter 2: "More Than I Can Bear"

Summary: Dwight is gifted another part of the letter by The Plague, who was kind enough to let him escape. The new piece, however, only serves to complicate things.

AO3 Link

This trial was going swell. Which is to say it wasn't. Just him and David with two generators left. Both were going to try their best to live together, but both knew that was unlikely. And here they were looking to not get a repeat of their last trial together.

Dwight had went down, her corrupt purge just ending, but was left down. David assumed she was aiming for no survivors. Well not on his watch. He snuck over, quick to hurry and heal him. But, he was so focused on getting Dwight up that he didn't notice the faint smoke of her censer rising above the wall of Autohaven wreckage nearby.

The insidious priestess emerged, chasing after Dwight. David took the hit for him, her chase continuing. On the floor, he focused on recovering. By the time he picked himself up, Dwight had fallen on the other side of the map.

Time to rinse and repeat. David would do it for as long as it took for Dwight to survive. Hopefully, she would become irritated with him and just kill him so Dwight could have a chance at finding the hatch.

But then, she appeared out of nowhere, smacking him on his head with her makeshift weapon. He'd definitely have a bruise there. He groaned, barely coming to once she picked him up. He could hear her speak, the words unknown, but he didn't care. He had to help Dwight. He struggled, but was then set down in front of the hook.

"My god…" she spoke slowly to him. "A compromise. Death and letter. Confess and life."

David was surprised. She was one of the few that spoke frequently during trials, but she never really spoke so directly to them, nor did she speak in a language they understood.

He detested The Entity, and her, thinking they could just toy with him so. But they could, and they were. Though, it mattered little to him when there was someone left to save.

"Dwight... let 'im live instead." he requested. A moment passed before she answered. Her head was looking down, but not at him, towards the ground.

"Maybe."

David growled. "You're a monster, y'know? Servin' that bitch, makin' people chose these things. 'ow do y'live with yourself?"

She looked at him wordlessly, expression unchanged. She was thinking. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he got up and lunged past her. But, there was nothing around to help put distance between him and her so he could get to Dwight, and he was felled once more.

With a huff, she picked him up. He continued to struggle, but was placed on the hook. She spoke a few more words in her tongue, and went off in search of Dwight. David cursed her, watching as the claw dug into him, and all senses left him.

-

Adiris left without looking back. She considered it a shame he died not knowing what she promised, but didn't dwell on it much. Many good things often go unthanked. But, no good thing should need to be thanked.

She passed the hatch on the way to find Dwight. Instinctively, she closed it and cursed herself. Getting him to that was quicker than the whole exit gate ordeal. She didn't really let it bother her for long. It was what it was.  

She eventually found him on the corner of the map. She picked him up and he immediately began to struggle. She found the will to live of the survivors quite admirable.

First, she brought him to a pool of devotion.

" Purify thy self. " she commanded as she stood before it.

He broke free of her grasp, and he began running in the other direction to the other side of the realm. Adiris rolled her eyes in frustration. There weren't even any exit gates over there. Regardless, she got him in her grasp again. And again she brought him to a pool.

" Purify. Thy. Self. " she calmly instructed as she motioned to the pool. He finally broke free, and stood warily before her.

"Umm…" he said, slowly backing away as he also pointed to the pool of devotion.

She motioned for him to purify himself. And thankfully, he listened. As he did so, she began to walk towards an exit gate.

" Come hither, little fool. " she spoke. He didn't know how lucky he was that she could be so merciful. To her relief, she could hear his footsteps behind her. Once at the gate, she said he could go ahead. A motion with her hand conveyed the message well enough.

Just as the final buzz rang out, she felt something slip into her hand. She lifted her hand to see that it was a few folded up pieces of something. Parts of a script, it seemed. That made sense now. And it seemed as if she had her god's blessing. It wasn't like she had underperformed this trial anyhow. Being a god's priestess had its benefits.

" Halt. " She commanded as she stood between him and the gate sliding open. A bit of fear appeared in his eyes that grew as she held the items out for him to take. " A gift. From my god, unto you, little fool. "

"Do I have to?" he whined.

She could not understand his words still, but he was evidently hesitant. That was clear in his voice and body language. In response, she bent down and looked at him straight at his eyes, and raised her censer. It jingled with her movement. In response, he shrunk away, absolutely terrified.

"OkI'llTakeTheLetter." he said quickly and fearfully, snatching it and running past her. But, he stopped just before passing the safety threshold. She picked up the broken key, noticing the ornaments on it and sensing some of her god's power emanating from them. It was no piece of finery, and the power within was nothing spectacular when she was already so close to her god.

Still, she kept it, safe in her hand as she began the walk home, the trial grounds behind her breaking down.

-

I hate you, more than I can bear. And I love you, more than I can bear. I hate your smile and the way you laugh. I hate the way you smile so brightly when you laugh even more. That peppy and proud strut you do, your kindness, your cowardice, your bravery, the way you are becoming a better person, the fact that you are our leader, you. I hate you, because you made me love you.

"Wwwwwwhat the fuck?" Jake said. He wondered what kinda weird fuck was writing this.

"Wait… so they love you… or hate… you?" Meg said, confused. Pm

"I honestly don't know…" Dwight groaned, somewhat frustrated and just as confused. He was tired of games and being toyed with. It was so difficult. What couldn't it be easy? These times around the campfire was essentially their time off. He could at least enjoy it. Was that such a difficult thing to ask for?

"It's possible to hate and love at the same time, so probably both. I mean, I hated and loved myself at the same time at one point. Someone could feel that for someone else too then, right? Or just ignore me. I don't know what I'm saying sometimes." Claudette advised dismissively.

"No, no, you c'be onto something Claud." Dwight assured. Already, he was thinking of who it could be. Then he realized this meant someone had a crush on him, a weird one at that. Too many options, and all of them seeming so unlikely.

Dwight let out a frustrated groan. "I don't wanna do this anymore!" he yelled into his hands, muffling his frustration.

"Well, assuming this isn't a trick, I think you should try to find out who." Jake said.

"Yeah, why not? You could use a consistent lay." Meg crassly said, making the two nerds of the group blush. Dwight shot her a mean look. Though, he wasn't very intimidating.

"Well, she's not wrong." Jake admitted. "When was the last time you even got laid?"

"My sex life isn't any of your business… And we don't even know who they are. Can't we focus on something else?" Dwight pleaded. "It probably is just some joke."

"Or we can solve this and end it for sure. I can help find your crush for sure too." Claudette said, taking the pieces of a letter.

She studied them intently, also giving each a quick sniff. The angry scribbles on the back lined up, confirming they belonged together. And it was all written with lead. The paper was just regular old paper. Nothing unusual about it. Additionally, it was torn from a notebook, evident by the torn edge. Thus, Claudette deduced it was likely from Badham.

The place was a good source of normal paper, unlike the grimy Midwich, the burned Crotus Prenn Asylum, or the simultaneously filthy and clean Treatment Center. The paper didn't smell of mildew, nor of smoke, nor of dirt and rubbing alcohol. But, it did smell stale, like Badham, suggesting it hadn't been out of the realm for too too long.

"If we want to find who wrote it, we find who took a notebook from Badham." Claudette concluded.

"Claudette." Dwight said.

"Yes?"

"Why do you have to be smart?" he bemoaned.

"Oh, well, you know. Just trying to help a friend." she replied sheepishly. Dwight groaned again.

"Oh calm down. You're being dramatic. You find the person, things will become easy. If it's a trick, then whatever. You'll move on, you will. We will also beat whoever tricked you." Meg  promised as she punched a fist into her palm.

"Yeah! I even found a plant I can put in their water mess with them!" Claudette said enthusiastically.

"Is it a laxative?" Jake questioned.

"Oh, I don't remember, just that it's not good for you."

"Oh my god I'm a bad influence." Dwight cried. Pure-hearted Claudette was gonna follow in his footsteps, all because he couldn't just deal with things himself.

"What, why?" Claudette wondered.

"Remember the time he spiked his boss's drink? What was his name? Laser?" Jake tried to remember.

"Lazar. He deserved it. And it was acid." Meg corrected.

"Ohhh, him. It's okay Dwight. You're not a bad influence. I'd give someone a bad acid trip for you either way." Claudette said with a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Really, you'd do that for me?" he asked, looking about ready to tear up.

"Course, silly. We're friends. And it's not like I ever took a Hippocratic oath." she lightly chuckled.

"Thanks Claudette." Dwight said graciously. "I'd do the same for you."

"Remind me again to never get on their bad sides." Jake whispered to Meg as they continued their friendly conversation.

"Same here." she said.