#i need some sort of motivation and the right atmosphere

[halfdeadwallfly]

Storm clouds rolling in + Fleetwood Mac for optimal concentration and homework vibes

[fr3sh-tragedies]

Hurt What's Mine

[Shadow of the Tomb Raider] Lara Croft x Female Reader

Word Count: 8.05k

Proofread: No

Content Warnings: Language, mentions of blood, heavy descriptions of gore and death, hospitalization, brief mention of medication

Categories:

Angst Fluff Mix

One-Shot Preference Headcanon

[A/N]: Thank you for 170+ followers! I've got a couple of people who have requested things through my inbox, and I'm hoping I'll be able to answer them soon! I will be open to requests soon, but there are a few more characters I want to write for ahead of time so it's easier to get an idea of what fandoms I'm open to. If you sent in a request, thank you! Once I've posted for a bit longer, I'll upload the masterlist I've made as well as the rules for requesting, then I'll answer requests!

[A/N] #2: If you do have a request that you'd like me to write in the future, please let me know! I'll get to it eventually, things are just hectic right now. Thank you for reading!

Enjoy!

Amongst the loud snapping of twigs combined with the rustling of the leaves overhead, softened chatter could be heard throughout the entrance to the forest. The sky, which had been painted warm shades of red and orange mere moments before, had grown murky with hues of purple and black. Small stars illuminated the sky as it grew darker, bright pools of light poking through the inky atmosphere to aid the moon in flooding the landscape with a soft glow. In accompaniment with the darkness seemingly swallowing up the woodland area that Lara and [Y/N] wandered into, a harsh breeze rushed through the air.

As the two walked deeper into the forest, Lara made sure to reach over when coming across drywood and break it free from the ground, tucking it under her arm. After seeing her do this, [Y/N] mirrored her actions and began to gather wood as well. The two had decided they’d head into the nearby forest to gather kindling for the fire they planned to build back at camp. There, Jonah was waiting, sorting through his supply of herbs and a small flask of water he’d said he would use to stir up a broth of sorts that would help all three stay warm for the night. The only problem being there was no fuel for a fire nearby, so both women volunteered to scavenge for some together.

It had taken quite a while to make it to the woodland area safely, but the conversation they had struck up with each other managed to keep the journey bearable. Thankfully, Lara had remembered to snatch her makeshift machete before heading out. Using the sharpest part of the rusted blade, she sliced through the brush that obstructed their path, allowing them to meander forward with a partial trail behind them.

Soon enough, neither of them were able to carry more of the drywood they came across. With a huff, Lara spun on her heel and jutted her chin toward the path she had made. “We should head back. We can always come back later if we need to gather more.” [Y/N] nodded, trailing behind the brunette as she led the way. A few minutes passed in silence, both women focused on not tripping over the loose roots or pebbles that littered the dampened blades of grass. Ultimately, as they neared the halfway point of the path, [Y/N] decided to break the silence.

“God, I’m glad we haven’t had any run-ins with Trinity. Those guys are a huge pain in the ass,” she complained. At her words, the corners of Lara’s lips perked up into an amused smirk. “Yeah, they are. We still need to keep our guard up, though. There weren’t any traces of them following us here, but that’s been the case the last couple of times as well. They’ve got the wrong motives, but they’re clever, and they know how to handle stealth operations.”

A grimace painted [Y/N]’s features as she nodded in response. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Silence once again fell upon them, allowing their senses to return to the sound of their own footsteps beneath them as they staggered ahead. While they recalled the way they came from, they struck up another conversation with one another, trying to keep the mood light in the eeriness that made itself known between the towering trees. It seemed to work–both felt more at ease as they chatted away. Merely a moment seemed to pass, however, before a loud clamp echoed throughout the area, followed by a ticking and whirring noise nearby.

Before either had time to react and understand what had happened, Lara flew backward with a holler and collapsed onto the ground. She was yanked forward once she made contact with the soil. The whirring noise returned, louder this time, and she was soon dangling high in the air by her foot. She groaned, her ears ringing and vision blurry from the way her head had bashed against the floor. Her eyes were pinched tightly shut, though her hand instinctively reached for her belt to find her gun.

Squinting and blinking her eyes rapidly, Lara managed to clear her view. All at once, she could make out what had happened. Just a few feet away, [Y/N]’s leg had been caught in a similar trap, but she wasn’t conscious enough to try and escape. Lara’s arm whipped forward to take aim, watching with a newfound sense of terror as a horde of shielded soldiers, clad in black, swarmed forward to the two. Even as she struggled to steady the hand that she gripped the gun harshly with, Lara began to fire warning shots, striking several of the soldiers and watching them plummet to the ground in waves.

A few that hadn’t been shot dashed toward [Y/N] and took hold of her limp arms. They hollered at each other to get her down, using her as some sort of human shield to avoid being killed as well. Upon seeing them grab the unconscious girl, the blood pumping from adrenaline underneath Lara’s skin lit aflame with fury and a desire to defend. Her aim became far more accurate, more fatalities becoming visible as she fired away at them, a wolf’s snarl lacing her words as she bellowed at them to leave her alone.

She knew she just needed to get enough of them down so she could break free from the pulley that tightened the rope around her ankle to a painful degree. If she could do that, she could protect [Y/N] and help her flee. A false spark of hope flushed through her veins as she noticed she had cleared most of the squad, the lie of it evident as her clip ran empty and more men emerged from the distance. She cursed at herself, her hands unsteadily flying back up to her belt to find another magazine and reload. As she struggled with fiddling her pack open to search, she failed to register the sound of thundering footsteps nearing her from behind.

Finally, she pulled a clip free with a small huff of relief. She let her empty mag drop to the ground, flicked upward with the new one to reload, then cocked the hammer back before taking aim. A single bullet fired from the barrel, and everything went black.

Everything seemed to come back at once–every sense flowing forward and overwhelming Lara’s mind. A muffled groan slipped past her lips as she managed to lift her head. Entirely unaware of her bearings, her eyes flitted around in confusion, unable to see with her eyes wide open. She jerked her arms forward, hoping to grab hold of whatever fabric covered her face, only to feel cold steel dig harshly into the skin on her wrists. She hissed in pain, wriggling for a moment as she tried to understand what had happened.

Her focus returned to what she could feel. She had been chained to something, though it was hard to make out exactly what it was. Against her back, she could feel jagged wood scratching at her scarred skin each time she moved. Her arms encircled whatever it was she was pinned up on. Piecing things together, she figured she had been cuffed to a wooden beam somewhere. That didn’t explain where she was, though. Aside from the village she and the others had passed through once they arrived, there were no structures of any kind as far as she could tell. Had one of the villagers turned and taken her hostage?

She could feel the frigid grated steel beneath her, which confirmed she had to be somewhere else. The ground in the homes of the village had been purely dirt and tattered cloth.

Then where the hell was she?

What had happened before she blacked out?

“Oh, look who’s up from her nap,” a booming voice called out, pulling Lara from her thoughts. Her head shot up, a quick yelp of pain greeting her as her head throbbed from the sudden motion. “Who the hell are you? Where am I? Where’s [Y/N]?” She couldn’t recall what she had been through beforehand, though some part of her told her she needed to defend herself regardless. A deep chuckle rumbled nearby before the owner of the previous voice stepped closer. Lara braced herself for a hit, fighting back a flinch when gloved fingers gripped the top of what had been obstructing her view and tugged upward.

She squinted with a hiss as the overhead lights flashed their way into her eyes, effectively blinding her for a moment. As her vision cleared and adjusted, she jerked her head to the side to face whoever had granted her the ability to see again. A moment hardly passed before her face contorted with anger: her brows furrowed tightly together, practically knitting themselves as one, her jaw clenching as her teeth ground painfully against each other.

“Who the fuck are you?” She snapped. Quickly, her outrage completely replaced the feeling of distress, only worsening when her gaze flickered down to see Trinity’s emblem stitched into the man’s tactical vest. He laughed, tossing the woven bag that had been tied around her head to the side. “You don’t need to know who I am, but I certainly know who you are.” He grinned, then reached behind Lara to pick something up from behind the pillar. Briefly after, he leaned back again, dangling her tactical belt tauntingly in front of her, still fully equipped with all of her weapons.

Her eyes widened a fraction at the sight, instinctively flying down to find and confirm that she had indeed been stripped of her only means of defense in this position. Immediately, she knew she needed to free herself. With the methods she had been taught after tussling with offenders before, she knew she could easily wrestle this man to the ground and overpower him. With her arms restrained, however, she could only fight back at an infuriatingly close range.

He seemed to notice the stress that had returned to Lara’s mind, letting out another cackle at her misfortune. He stood, twisting his torso far enough to hurl the belt over the railing. As he made his way over to squat in front of her again, she took this opportunity to look around. She had been right: she was chained to a wooden support beam, and she was seated against steel. Through the holes in the grated plates, she could see she was far up off the ground, at least three or four stories high.

Looking up, she could see layers of other platforms above, towering to an ungodly height. Dropping her gaze back down, the platform she was on curved around a circular building just behind her, and ahead of her, a long metal bridge stretched out to connect to an identical structure. As her eyes focused in on a figure across the platform, her blood ran cold, wishing she hadn’t recognized what was happening.

Everything that had happened before she ended up here came flooding back. The forest, the traps, the soldiers, everything. Now separated, [Y/N] was similarly cuffed to a pillar. Her binds seemed tighter, red lines already formed on her wrists as though she had been struggling against them for a while. For the first time since making it to the town, Lara felt genuine fear. Had they already hurt [Y/N]? Had they forced her to give away where Jonah was?

“[Y/N]!”

“Ah, so you noticed,” the man voiced, bringing her attention back to him. Shakily, she lifted her head, She screamed at herself, willing her voice into intimidation. “Let her go. She has nothing to do with this.” Internally, she cursed at the way her voice wavered and cracked.

The man grinned devilishly, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? The moment you brought her here, you forced her to be a part of this. Like it or not, she has everything to do with this.” He leaned forward, blocking her view of [Y/N] and forcing her to look him in the eye. “It’s your fault.” Bringing his hand to his chin, he glanced up and mockingly pretended to think. “I suppose the saying, “like father like daughter,” is true after all. Wouldn’t you say so?”

At the mere mention of her father, a concoction of emotions bubbled beneath the surface of Lara’s skin. Even so, she forced her expression to remain stern. “Don’t you fucking talk about him.” Once again, she was met with a laugh.

A soldier that had been stationed nearby stepped closer to the two, concern laced in his tone. “Sir, shouldn’t we be careful? She’s taken out half of our men already, and most of it was entirely on her own.” The man in front of Lara rolled his eyes and stood, giving a small shrug. “Relax, I’m just having a bit of fun. There’s nothing she can do like this,” he gestured toward her. “With respect,” the soldier started, “she’s gotten out of tougher situations. Maybe we should–”

In an instant, the man, who Lara assumed was the captain at this point, whipped his gun from its holster on his hip and stood. He flicked his arm upward and pointed the barrel directly against the soldier’s forehead, prompting him to freeze. “I’ll fucking take care of it, you got it? All I’m gonna do is get her to tell me a few things, then we’ll blow both of their brains out, then be on our way. Stop me like that again, and the first round will go through your thick skull. Understand?”

Quickly, the soldier nodded and stepped back to his station. “Yes, sir.”

The captain then tucked his gun away. He turned and made a motion with his head to the group across the bridge. Lara glanced behind him to see what was happening, only to panic further as they crouched beside [Y/N], who flinched away at their touch. “Don’t touch her!” She screamed, thrashing violently against her restraints.

“Oh, don’t worry,” the captain teased, crouching down in front of her again to look her in the eye. “As long as you answer some questions, we won’t hurt her anymore.” Anymore. That word bounced through Lara’s head as she barely managed to notice that [Y/N]’s skin was littered with bruises and cuts. She swallowed hard, glaring at him. “What do you want? What questions?” He again acted as though he was deep in thought. “Well, for starters, you could tell me where the artifact you're looking for is.”

She scoffed. “So what? You can use it to wipe out humanity? Like you tried to do with the Divine Source?” The captain forced a smile. His hand lifted from his side and made a motion toward the group behind him. Lara watched, horrified, as one soldier used all his strength to kick [Y/N] in the stomach, another grabbing a fistful of her hair and slamming her head back against the pillar. She cried out in pain, desperately trying to free herself.

“Like I said, tell me what I want to know, and she won’t get hurt.”

Lara practically growled at him when she spoke. She ordered him to call the group back, threatening to make his death hell if he didn’t comply. “What do you think you can do? Can’t exactly kill me while you’re stuck here.” She scowled, her fingertips tapping at the chains in search of the padlock. Her arm shimmied a bit, allowing one of her hairpins to slip from the cuff of her sleeve and into her hand that she kept tucked away for situations exactly like this.

As she fiddled with trying to find the padlock, the captain continued to hound her with questions.

“Where’s your camp? I know you brought someone else here too.” She shuddered at the thought of Jonah being dragged into this as well. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where the hell I am, and you expect me to remember how to get back?” Another motion was made, prompting another harsh punishment to be given to [Y/N]. Lara shouted her name, begging her to hold on and promising she’ll get the two of them out.

The captain scoffed and crossed his arms. “Are you really not grasping what I’ve said? Answers for me means less pain for her.” Panicked, Lara thrashed again, her hands trembling as they continued their search. “I’m trying! But you aren’t giving me questions I can answer!” It was hard to mask her relief when her fingers finally found the padlock, though she instead focused on wriggling the bobby pin into the lock. “Well,” the captain huffed, standing again and slipping his gun from his belt. “I think I know something that might trigger your memory.”

At that, he turned and began walking toward [Y/N], wordlessly ordering the group of soldiers to back away. “No, don’t hurt her!” Lara was practically screaming at her hands to still, and with another brief moment, she finally managed to pick the lock, wrestling her arms free from the chains and stumbling as she stood. Without an ounce of hesitation, she lunged forward toward the captain, grabbing hold of him and trying to keep him away. He hollered in surprise, reaching back to claw at her and get a grasp. “Get off of me, you bitch!”

The team of soldiers that had been abusing [Y/N] only a mere moment before were now hurtling toward her. With a bit of a struggle, three of the soldiers managed to pry her off of him, throwing her back before forcefully pinning her against the pillar yet again. She fought against them, screaming for them to let her go. The captain ahead grumbled and stared her down for a moment, though he was quick to turn and walk toward [Y/N] again.

As Lara thrashed against the soldiers holding her down, the head of the team reached up toward a sheath against his hip, his gun having been smacked out of his hand and over the ledge from Lara’s outburst. Something felt as though it were burning in her mind, growing hotter and hotter as the captain closed the space between him and [Y/N]. She couldn’t let Trinity take another person she loved away from her. She wouldn’t allow it.

Hardly managing to remember her training, she turned and lunged her torso forward, using all of the momentum to headbut the soldier grasping her right arm in the face. He howled in pain, letting her go and falling backward. She then turned to the man holding her left shoulder. In the blink of an eye, she whipped her arm in a circular motion, gripping his wrist and forcing his arm to twist until he let go. Just as quickly, she shuffled forward and kicked the third soldier square in the chest, effectively knocking the wind out of his lungs.

Before she could stand, two more men sprinted forward and blocked her path, one of them managing to land a few rough kicks to her face and head. She hooked her arm beneath the back of his leg, jolting up to stand and flipping him backward. The second soldier struggled to free his rifle from the band on his back. By the time he managed to try and aim at her, her forearm flew sideways and struck his wrist, the impact catching him off guard and causing him to drop his weapon. Lara then leapt forward and gripped the straps of his tactical vest. She spun around to gain more force before driving him around again and launching him over the railing, not bothering to watch as he plummeted toward the ground countless meters below.

She turned, determined to get to the captain, but froze in place. Still so far away, he had freed [Y/N] of restraints, knowing she wouldn’t have been able to fight back. He pinned her against the platform, his knees planting themselves on either side of her hips as he drove his knife down into her stomach. Lara watched as [Y/N] tried to gasp for air, only to choke and let out a silent scream.

She felt everything grow heavy, ready to give into the temptation to drop to the ground. An inhumane level of fury coursed through her veins, and soon she found herself running forward at full speed, no longer in control of her body.

The neared the captain in only a few seconds, leaping from the ground and thrusting her arms forward. She tackled him off of [Y/N]’s writhing body and ripped the blade from his hand, dropping it and instead using her fists to beat any part of him she could see. Hit after hit, punch after punch, a new bruise formed on his skin, thinner sections splitting open into gashes. His blood seemed to all pool together beneath his head.

Lara let out a yell with each strike made against his skill. She lost count of the amount of times her knuckles made contact with the swollen form beneath her, not even noticing that her knuckles had begun to tear open and bleed from the sheer force alone. As his arms and legs fell limp against his sides, Lara’s punches came to a stop. Her bloodied hand reached over and grasped the handle of the knife, knuckles white from the tightness as she lifted the blade above her head.

Instantly, she plunged the knife down, listening with a sick joy as the thin metal ripped through layers of skin and organ, cracking through parts of his ribs. Mirroring what [Y/N] had done, the captain hopelessly tried to gasp for breath, instead wheezing and sputtering while his hands weakly scratched at her arms. Only for a moment, she kept the knife there. Before she could watch the life leave his eyes, she drew the blade out and immediately thrusted it down into his jugular with an equal force.

Her hands let go of the handle and dropped to land at her sides. She stared down, gleefully studying the way the captain clutched at his throat, a thick puddle of blood erupting from his mouth and trickling down his cheeks and jaw, disappearing into his hairline and accumulating with the crimson red under his trembling form. Glaring down at him with dull eyes, she lazily tugged the rifle from his back, forcing herself to stand and turn around.

She hadn’t heard the group of soldiers thundering up the stairs, but she had apparently sensed it. Effortlessly, she lifted the rifle and took aim, crouching down and firing away as the men made their way up one by one. By the time the team died out, she heard the gun click. Her gaze bored down at the rifle, realizing she had burned through the ammo. With a grunt of disapproval, she discarded the gun, then ripped another one away from a nearby lifeless body. She used that rifle to finish off the squad, blankly staring ahead after lowering the gun.

As her mind clouded over, taking in the scene before her, she tossed the gun to the side, straining to hear as it clattered against the steel platform. A bloodbath. That was the only way she could possibly describe it. Piles of bodies across such a small space, silver metal now stained red from blood and black from gunpowder. Lifeless eyes of the fallen seemed to watch her as she lifted her hands, taking in the way blood coated her skin. She wasn’t sure how much of it was hers and how much of it was the captain’s. She paid it no mind, instead rotating her hands to examine her knuckles. She had most definitely broken a few, if not all, of them,

Had she actually done all of this?

Nothing felt real.

The sudden sound of harsh coughing broke her out of her trance, forcing her attention toward the source. She scrambled over to [Y/N]’s side, holding her head up as she processed just how badly she had been hurt. Adding onto the gaping wound in her torso, countless bruises and cuts peppered every exposed inch of skin. The back of her head had been dripping blood from being hammered into the wooden beam. Lara gasped and frantically helped her prop her head up to prevent choking on her blood, her eyes scanning the surrounding area for something to help stop the bleeding. She grimaced when [Y/N] whimpered from the way she stretched over to grab a torn uniform.

Thinking on her feet, she slid to the wall of the base and leaned the wounded girl against it, apologizing tearfully each time she yelped in pain. After tearing the uniform into a thinner piece, she began stuffing part of the wound, earning more cries. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, finally using the rest of the cloth to ball it up. “This is going to hurt, but I need you to trust me.”

Before [Y/N] even opened her eyes, Lara forced her hand downward, applying an immense amount of both pressure and pain to the wound. At this, [Y/N] screamed in agony, her eyes beginning to roll back as her breaths quickened. Lara cupped her jaw and shifted forward. “[Y/N]? No, [Y/N], I need you to stay with me, okay? Keep your eyes open! Everything’s going to be okay, I promise. Stay with me,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

“[Y/N], please, I can’t lose you. Not like this. Keep your eyes open–that’s all I need you to do!” Her words fell upon deaf ears, no matter how desperate they became. Before Lara could beg for her to listen again, [Y/N]’s head drooped down, her body now completely limp.

“[Y/N]?” Lara whimpered, shaking the unconscious girl’s head as a silent plea. When no response came from the motion, the Croft felt her tears beginning to spill, only being able to whisper “no” repeatedly. Her hand, the one that had been holding up the woman’s head, slid down to check for a pulse. She gasped softly when she found it, though realized she had to act quickly from how weak it was. “Shit,” she blurted, once again examining her surroundings. That bastard had thrown her radio over the railing with her weapons. There was no way she could contact Jonah without alerting any other potential Trinity bases of where they were. One look down at [Y/N], however, forced her to take that risk.

She stood and quickly rushed over to the nearby bodies, her calloused, bloodied hands desperately searching their equipment for a radio of sorts. She cursed with each failed search, though lit up only a fraction once she found one. Quickly, she ran to sit by [Y/N]’s side again, holding her up and pulling her close, keeping an eye on her as she sent out a message.

“Jonah? Jonah, are you there? Can you hear me? I need your help: [Y/N]’s bleeding out!”

She released the button, only earning static in response. Her eyes shot back to the woman beside her, her only shimmer of hope dimming immediately. Her finger clicked down again, lifting it closer to speak into it once more.

“Jonah, I need you here! Jonah, please, can you hear me?”

A choked sob erupted unwillingly from her throat. She felt like curling into herself and breaking right there. Now hunched over, she clutched the radio tightly against her chest, grasping a handful of her hair as she tried to come up with another plan. All she could bring herself to do for a moment was weep, terrified of losing the woman propped up by her side.

Her mind cleared for a brief second, and although she had no idea where they were, she knew they couldn’t stay there. More reinforcements were bound to show up sooner or later, and she was in no state to fight them all. She stood, peering out at the landscape in hopes of finding a landmark she had passed before. The lids of her eyes threatened to shut, heavy with fatigue from the loss of adrenaline and the salty tears that had fallen.

She staggered closer to the rail, gripping onto it tightly as a way to ground herself as she searched further. Her heart felt like it was going to sink down into the pit of her stomach upon spotting a village in the distance. She turned to [Y/N], unsure if either of them could even make it that far. There was a chance it wasn’t the village she had been in either, on top of the fact there could be more traps hidden in the forest.

That only stopped her briefly. She knew they needed to leave, and she knew it was better to head out with the chance of finding Jonah than staying there to die.

Willing every ounce of strength she had left, she plucked the rifle she had thrown to the side back up, slinging it over her shoulder before wobbling back to [Y/N]. She huffed, sucking in a deep breath to ready herself, then bent down to pick her up, one arm tucking itself underneath her knees, and the other wrapping around her torso.

She turned, stumbled forward toward the stairs, and wrestled with the urge to look down at the unconscious form in her arms.

Each step down felt like a mile, Lara’s calves straining and aching, feeling as though they would give in and snap like twigs. By the time she managed to make it to the ground, it took everything in her not to collapse. She just kept telling herself they’ll be there soon. That was all she could do to keep moving forward. If she didn’t make it, not only would [Y/N] die, but she would as well. The marks from the beating she had taken had begun to finally sink in, adding to the difficulty.

She swayed every few steps. Her body threatened to fall over anytime she leaned too far.

She had no way of knowing she was going in the right direction, only able to rely on her instinct. There was no path, no landmark, no sign of nearing the village, which is why it was such a surprise when she could hear hollering up ahead. She strained her ears, hardly managing to make out that the unidentified voice was calling her name.

“Jonah?” She whispered hoarsely.

“Lara! [Y/N]! Are you two out there?”

“Jonah,” she weeped, unable to raise her voice any further.

Her feet continued to stumble toward the sound of his voice. The closer she got, the stronger the small spark of adrenaline she somehow still had grew. Finally, realizing he was only a few feet away, Lara managed to pick up her pace, lightly jogging forward. “Jonah, we’re here,” she cried out weakly. She moved ahead, breaking through the entrance of the forest to reveal the small patch of land they had originally tried to set up camp at. There, Jonah turned around and instantly ran over.

“Lara, you’re alright! I heard gunfire, but I didn’t know where you were, and–”

“Jonah, we need to get back to the plane right now. [Y/N]’s losing too much blood, and I don’t know how much longer she’s going to last,” although her tone was weak, there was no doubt she was terrified. Jonah finally looked down to the woman in Lara’s arms, his body tensing at the sight of all she had been through.

“Shit, what did–okay, but what about what you came here for? We can’t come back! Trinity’s going to–” Jonah knew that even mentioning the artifact in that moment was a mistake, but his mind was racing, preventing him from thinking logically.

“Forget the artifact, Jonah!” Lara snapped, her raspy voice finally reaching the volume she’d wanted to have when calling for him. “I don’t give a shit about that right now! I just want [Y/N] to survive! I’m the reason she’s in this state to begin with–I don’t want to be the reason she dies!”

At her sudden tone, Jonah could only nod and motion for Lara to hand [Y/N] to him to carry her there. Reluctantly, Lara did so, only after realizing she wouldn’t be able to make it to the plane in time if she were the one taking her. Without a moment to lose, Jonah began rushing up the path toward where they had landed, shouting behind him for the Croft to follow.

The ringing returned the closer they got, her vision blurring and growing dark. Everything was spinning, and she had to force herself to keep track of Jonah. By the time they had all made it into the plane, Lara’s body finally gave out.

“You know, I don’t think I had ever scared my father that badly before,” Lara murmured, a gentle chuckle escaping as she smiled fondly at the memory. With a sigh, she felt the pad of her thumb caress the tattered skin on the back of [Y/N]’s hands. For just a single moment, the ticking of the clock hanging above the door synced up with the beeping of the monitor beside the bed. Just as quickly, they fell out of rhythm again, and Lara waited for them to repeat it. Every few minutes, for the past several weeks, both would beat together for just a brief second, only to fall apart again.

It was the only thing she could look forward to anymore. It kept her distracted so she didn’t have to process everything just yet–so she didn’t have to look up at the woman deep in a coma in the bed she sat by. Jonah would come in here and there, reminding her to eat something small or to bring her a spare blanket for the night. Nurses would step inside to take vitals and update Lara on what was happening. And even though [Y/N] was there, whenever everyone else would leave, Lara still felt alone.

She could talk to her, but it was more like talking at her. She had no idea if the woman could hear anything she said, nor did she know when she was going to wake up. It had been seven weeks since they made it back from the expedition. Lara’s injuries were treated fairly easily, but [Y/N] had fallen into a medical coma from blood loss and excessive blunt force trauma. Her chances of survival in the beginning were slim, but things started to steadily improve as the days passed by.

Those days, however, felt like years to Lara. The woman she could once talk to and joke around with, the woman she could once hold and be held by, the woman she could once gaze into the eyes of, now lay before her, unmoving and silent. She was alive, but to Lara she seemed dead. She had been so lively before, and now she couldn’t even open her eyes.

To fill the never-ending silence that weighed heavy upon her shoulders, Lara would talk aloud, pretending as though she was sharing her thoughts with [Y/N] like she had done before everything went awry. Recently, after running out of small-talk she had murmured like it was scripted, she had resorted to retelling memories she had of her father back as a child. Somehow, even as [Y/N] stayed unconscious, Lara felt comfortable sharing her favorite times spent with her late father. Anyone else would’ve been waved off and told she wasn’t comfortable, but [Y/N] had always been the one person she could come to to speak of him freely.

Even seemingly dead, [Y/N] was still the only one she trusted. It was funny, in a way.

She huffed out a sigh, lifting the woman’s hand to her lips and pressing a featherlike kiss to her knuckles. Once her lips left the clammy skin, she brought her head down to lean it against the back of her hand. Her eyes closed, brows furrowed as she bit back a sob.

“I wish I had never brought you with me. If I hadn’t, you would still be comfortable at home, watching TV and sleeping in. You wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t… You wouldn’t be hurt, or strapped to this machine, or fighting for your life. You wouldn’t be in a coma.” She sniffled, squeezing the hand still against her forehead. “This is all my fault. I’m so sorry, [Y/N]. I would take it all back if I could.”

Some part of her waited, half-expecting a response. She whimpered, clearing her throat to prevent herself from bursting into tears again. With a hard swallow, she lifted her head, gaze trailing up to [Y/N]’s face. She smiled. “I have no idea how, but you still look so beautiful. Even when you’re out like this.”

Her free hand lifted far enough to caress the girl’s cheek, then pinch the bridge of her own nose, internally groaning at how heavy her eyes felt. Once her hand planted itself back on her thigh, she glanced over at the heart monitor, watching each movement on the screen intently for a moment, allowing herself to gather her thoughts. Finally, she faced [Y/N] again. Her hand squeezed her leg, unsure of what to say.

“I love you. So, so much. I should’ve said it more before… all of this, but I’m saying it now. I do love you, [Y/N], more than anything in this world.”

She huffed out a pained laugh.

“I don’t know why I’m so mad at you. None of this is your fault. I’m the one who dragged you into the expedition, and I’m the one who ended up getting you captured. I wish I hadn’t begged you to come with me. You deserve to be at home, not in this bed. I should’ve protected you, and I didn’t, and for that, I’m so sorry. You deserve someone better: someone who wouldn’t have gotten you into this mess.

“The worst part is: I don’t even know if you can hear me. I’m not sure if you’ve heard anything I’ve said this entire time. I’m not sure why knowing that you might not hear me hurts so badly, but it does.” Tears once again pricked the corners of her eyes. “God, I wish I could hear your voice again. I miss you so much. I know you’re right in front of me, and I know you’re still breathing and alive, but I’ve never felt so alone. It doesn’t feel like you’re really here. It feels like you’re not you.”

The tears stinging her eyes now blurred her vision and poured down in thick masses. Her free arm raised, allowing her to use the sleeve of her jacket to wipe them away. Once they dried, she looked up at her again, hands trembling harshly.

“Please wake up. I’m begging you.”

Grumbling was all Lara could do in her unconscious state. Any small sound she could hear had her grumbling louder: pages flipping, pens scribbling, pills rattling, doors opening, monitors beeping. Everything that she could hear seemed to be working against her, screaming at her to wake back up. It was late at night when she finally let herself drop her head onto the edge of the hospital bed to rest. Hand still clutching onto [Y/N]’s, she managed to drift off for the first time in days.

The sounds grew incessant, however, stirring her partially awake. Each little noise irritated her further, and she had to fight the urge to muffle the scream bubbling up in her throat with the sheets cushioning her head. To add onto her growing frustration, something squeezed softly at her hand, forcing her back to her senses.

“For fuck’s sake,” she mumbled, lifted her head, then looked down at her hand. Her brows pinched tightly together, she sat there, processing what she had just felt. Again, her hand was squeezed.

Her brain, although severely sleep deprived, finally managed to register what had happened. Immediately, she looked up from her hand, her eyes landing on [Y/N], who finally opened her eyes for the first time in months. She gazed back at Lara the way the brunette had been craving the entire time. Upon seeing that she was now awake, tears instantly trickled out from Lara’s eyes, a shaky sob accompanying them.

“[Y/N]?” She whispered, unsure if she was actually awake.

“Hey, Lara,” came her raspy reply, a tired grin gracing her cracked lips.

Right away, Lara sprung up from her seat by the bed and leaned forward, capturing [Y/N] in a tight embrace. “Oh my god, I don’t–” She sniffled. Her leg lifted up, allowing her to sit beside the woman now practically cradling her in return. “You’re awake. You’re finally awake. I don’t believe it.”

She leaned back from the hug, cupping [Y/N]’s face in her hands and studying every little feature she could see. Sob after sob wracked through her body as she pressed a kiss to the wounded woman’s lips, only shifting back to pepper the rest of her face in similar kisses. “I thought I lost you,” she whispered after calming down enough to speak. Her voice trembled and broke more with each passing word, rambling about what she had feared.

“God, I love you so much.”

Again, she captured [Y/N]’s lips in her own, pure relief washing through her senses when she felt her kissing back. Weakly, the bandaged girl chuckled. “I love you too,” she rasped out.

Lara instantly leaned back into the embrace, clutching desperately at the hospital gown she rested against. She swayed side to side, shivering as [Y/N] soothingly rubbed up and down her back. She couldn’t begin to explain how she felt at that moment. All she could say was she was so relieved to know that the woman she held closest to her heart was alive and breathing.

“Can I ask you something?” A soft voice whispered. She leaned away again to look her in the eye. “Of course. Anything at all.”

“What happened after I was stabbed?”

Lara froze, now growing uncertain. “You don’t remember?” She sucked in a shaky breath when her only response was a shake of the head. Her gaze dropped down, unsure of where to start. She scratched the back of her neck anxiously, took another deep breath in an attempt to steel her nerves, then cleared her throat. “Well, I’m not really…”

She turned to glance behind her, ensuring no one else was in the room before she spoke again. There was no shame in what she had done–not for her–but she’d be torn away instantly if someone overheard. [Y/N] had just woken back up, and she wasn’t going to risk losing her all over again. Although, that still might be a possibility, depending on how she took the news.

She explained herself, sparing no detail of what she had committed in her blind rage. From wrestling with the soldiers to stabbing the captain of the team in both the chest and the throat, she confessed every little atrocity that had been brought about by her hands alone. As she spoke, she averted her eyes, too afraid of being gazed at with disgust. She focused on the pattern stitched into the bedsheets bundled up atop [Y/N]’s legs.

Finally, she managed to tear her eyes away from the sheets and look back into [Y/N]’s. She swallowed, surprised to see that familiar glint of admiration in her eyes. There was no sign of repulsion or discomfort at the heinous things she had admitted to. “You’re not mad?” Was all she could ask. [Y/N] snickered and shook her head.

“Are you kidding? Those asswipes beat the shit out of me, and one tried to kill me. I don’t exactly have sympathy for them after that.” Relieved, Lara sighed and grinned. It was a breath of fresh air to see her laugh again, even though it was rather weak.

She turned to sit next to [Y/N], who she then pulled into her side. With a quick peck to the top of the head, she closed her eyes and yawned. “Tired?” “Mmhm.” “Yeah, same.” Lara laughed, looking down at her in confusion. “You were in a coma for nearly three months. Why are you tired?” [Y/N] smirked and rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t willingly unconscious. Plus, my body just sucks,” she murmured, earning another chuckle.

“Well, I love your body,” Lara mumbled, tugging her closer. “Every bit of it.”

Waiting a moment, [Y/N] leaned against the brunette fully, her head dropping onto her shoulder as she closed her eyes. She grinned, listening to Lara yawn again before she shivered. “Move your legs for a second,” she whispered to the already half-asleep woman. “Hm?” “Move your legs.” “What? Why?” “So I can cover you up with the blankets.”

Lara seemed to take a moment to understand what she had said. Finally, though, she lifted her legs with a groan, letting [Y/N] slip the covers out from under her and essentially tuck her in beside her. Both sighed in relief: Lara from the warmth of the sheets and [Y/N] pressed against her, and [Y/N] from the feeling of Lara holding her close.

Lights had been turned off throughout the ward for a while, which both women were silently grateful for. As they shuffled to lie down more comfortably beneath the covers, everything seemed to settle down for the first time in months. Lara’s body finally relaxed, the lack of sleep from the past several weeks catching up to her at a rapid speed. She hummed softly as she turned onto her side, pulling [Y/N] into her chest.

“I’m never taking you on a trip like that again,” she slurred out. “At least, not until I know Trinity won’t be there.”

[Y/N] nodded as she listened, also partially asleep. She squirmed a bit, sliding closer while trying to mind her IV. As her head settled against Lara’s chest, she yawned. A moment passed before she spoke again.

“You do know the nurses are gonna come in any minute and realize I’m awake, right?” A groan sounded from Lara, prompting a snicker from [Y/N]. “I’m gonna crawl back into the bed again the second they leave. I just want you in my arms right now.”

“Well, either way, I want you to know that I could hear you for most of the time I was out. And I also want you to know that I plan on saying “I love you” as many times as you did before I woke up. I really do love you. I mean, you were right here the second I woke up, and I don’t know if you ever…” She thought for a moment, opening her eyes and looking up at Lara. “Did you ever leave the room?” Even as she fought to stay awake, Lara scratched her cheek nervously. “Only when I used the restroom. I was afraid I wouldn’t be here when you woke up.”

[Y/N] grinned. “Well, I’m glad you were here. I was worried you wouldn’t be here at all when I woke up. I figured you’d leave and head home, or maybe go back to the village we were at.” Gently yet reassuringly, Lara squeezed her closer. “I would never do that to you. You’re everything to me.”

“And you’re everything to me.”

Another yawn managed to escape the brunette’s lips. She pressed a small kiss to the top of [Y/N]’s head and sighed, already drifting off again. “I love you, so damn much. No one’s going to hurt what’s mine, never again.”

“I’m yours, huh?”

“Of course.”

A gentle smile graced [Y/N]’s features as she shuffled closer, pressing a kiss to Lara’s collarbone as her eyes fluttered shut.

“Of course I’m yours.”

[erazonpo3]

Erazon's Characterisation Essay (Part 1 - Cynthia Edition)

General preface; This is me snowballing on a thought I had earlier about canon v fanon trends given that it's a pretty evergreen topic. Without getting too much into the subject itself, I made the point that you can use the source material as a starting point for analysing characterisation, but in a lot of cases it's highly interpretive; using Pokemon as an example, most of the non-player characters exist to enable the player's autonomy throughout the game's storyline, and only a small handful have their own detailed arcs and backstories.

Therefore if you want to build on characterisation for them for transformative fanworks, you only have a handful of dialogue lines and some environmental storytelling that borders on olympic levels of mental gymnastics. Things like backstory and character motivation needs to be invented, to which end the concept of 'canon' characterisation becomes pretty insignificant in comparison to the story you are trying to tell, and whether or not that characterisation is thematically appropriate and compelling. Everyone is going to have a subjective opinion about the 'essence' of a character, the core traits that make them who they are, and how integral those traits are for it to be a 'canon' or 'fanon' interpretation.

And yet there's still ways to analyse the games to draw some conclusions that aren't always obvious straight away.

I'm going to go into how I draw characterisation for Cynthia for Way Out, but keep in mind that I don't consider my characterisation perfect or the One True Depiction To End All Others etc and so on and so forth. There's things I need to discard in favour of the story– adults in the Pokemon games, including Cynthia, have a pretty laissez-faire attitude when it comes to kids handling crises so that the target audience (kids) can feel acutalised as they play through the story, but it's not always what I consider a core character trait so much as a function of the medium.

I play up a sense of responsibility and duty that isn't really depicted in the games but is nevertheless an easy takeaway in order to give her character a bit more depth and relateability. And when other people take her character in a different direction, I try to keep an open mind about what they're saying about her character in their story, because their story is not a video game for children nor a webcomic, and they will need to do different things depending on her narrative role.

(I don't have to like it, but I'm no less a subjective soul than anyone else).

I also pull here and there from other sources of inspiration, one I've mentioned before is a meta-analysis of how she's treated by the fandom in general, assuming she'd be treated a similar way as a public figure in-universe. A lot of my character work is about peeling back that legendary status and asking who the person underneath is and how she might deal with the pressures of being expected to consistently meet other people's high standards, and how to balance a healthy competitive streak without it becoming toxic.

But more to the point– here's some material exclusively from Platinum that I think collates to a pretty consistent depiction of her character, to keep in mind and interpret any which way, arranged into some key traits.

She is the granddaughter of a village elder in a traditional rural town.

"My grandma has this sort of bossy atmosphere about her. I think you'll recognize her right away. Yes, I'm sure you will. She's the elder of Celestic Town"

An overlooked aspect of her character that I think holds some of the ripest potential for her character is that we know a fair deal about where her family is from, potentially where she was raised. My personal conclusions are:

It is likely she has an ingrained sense of cultural values of humility, respect, duty, and tradition. While she may not be ruled by these traits, they would influence the way she interacts with the world.

Her interest in mythology is likely inspired the mural in Celestic town, and reflects a value of heritage and history.

It's a common 'fanon' that her grandmother was her primary guardian through much of her childhood, which isn't substantiated anywhere (just because we don't meet her parents as NPCs doesn't mean they don't exist) but this idea strengthens the connection she has to Celestic town and emphasises her position as the elder's heir.

Cynthia introducing herself as a trainer and not a Champion suggests humility; she positions herself as an equal to the player as opposed to a superior.

2. She is earnest and sincere

"...The places we are born. The time we spend living... The languages we speak... We are all different. But the presence of Pokémon unites us. We share our lives with our Pokémon and our happiness grows as we all become greater than we were alone. That is why we can battle and trade with anyone we choose..."

This is a reflection of her position as a narrative foil to Cyrus; where he dismisses the importance of emotion and 'spirit', she holds it in high regard. Thus;

She sees strong emotions as the source of her bond to her Pokemon and therefore the source of her success. While it's not to say she's an overly empathetic person, I think it follows easily that is generally emotionally intelligent (generally).

I think she's self-aware about how emotional she can be too, which is to say it's something she consciously embraces despite knowing she comes across a little overly earnest (and cheesy) sometimes.

"I love the sound a piano makes. I savor every note with my entire being. It's not only my ears; my spirit hears the music it makes... Ehehe, I made myself cringe saying that."

3. She is intelligent

"I think I let myself get carried away and talked for far too long. I'm sorry, and thank you"

This feels like a no brainer (ha) but it's also easy to take someone who comes across as emotional and write them off as being illogical or not having the depth for complex thought. To me, her emotional intelligence goes hand in hand with her analytical intelligence.

Her fascination with mythology is one of her defining traits, and her dialogue is the source of much of the lore surrounding the Sinnoh legendary Pokemon.

Her pursuit of knowledge is one of her defining traits; her interest in mythology and the distant past is referenced more frequently by herself and other NPCs than the fact of her being Champion. "My big sister is studying the myths of Sinnoh. She wants to know how people and Pokemon interacted in the days of myths."

As a Champion, I consider that she's very calculating and analytical. Even without the strategic held items given to her in BDSP, her Pokemon have perfect stats and have solid type coverage. It's not something she would accidentally stumble onto.

"When you are facing a Trainer in battle, you can learn everything about them. What Pokemon they have. What moves they've taught. What items they make Pokemon hold."

4. She is kind

"I want you to keep traveling to many far-off places. I want you to keep meeting all kinds of people and Pokémon. I came all the way here just so I could say that to you!"

A Champion in this game being kind isn't really a revolutionary idea, but it's still something I consider very integral, particularly in conjunction with the prior traits; there is diplomacy and there is compassion, and to me Cynthia balances both.

She is something of a mentor figure to the player, giving them the solution to obstacles on multiple occasissions (HM Cut, the Secret Medicine), and imparts a lot of lore to them. Notably she gives them an egg which hatches into a Togepi; while this event doesn't happen in BDSP and Platinum doesn't have the Fairy type, it's still retroactively made more interesting for the fact that Togekiss' modern Fairy/Flying type grants perfect immunity to her Garchomp's Dragon/Ground typing.

Some of the few interactions the player will have with her is giving medicine to the Psyduck blocking the route to Celestic town, and then delivering a charm to her grandmother– it gives an impression that she is regularly invested in small acts of kindness.

5. Other tidbits

Every time she interacts with you as the player, it is always through the lens of an adult with a public position speaking to a child; I take it as a given that all her interactions have a slight amount of professional distance, and a formality she wouldn't have if speaking to an adult friend.

She reveals that she went on a similar journey as the player character after being given a Pokedex by Professor Rowan, which could imply she experienced similar experiences to the established protagonist journey formula.

There's a slight goofiness to some of her dialogue that suggests she doesn't always take herself too seriously. "You've seen that group of Psyduck huddled with their heads in their, uh, hands...?"

It's a pretty common 'fanon' for Cynthia to have known Cyrus in her childhood, but this isn't really substantiated in text; her dialogue towards him would be a lot colder with that context as opposed to a stranger. It's a common headcanon because giving them a history together strengthens their position as foils, but in my opinion it's equally as interesting that Cyrus succeeds as far as he does because he exists in Cynthia's blind spot- she admits she didn't pay enough attention to what Team Galactic was up to, and can only stand in opposition to him ideologically, unwilling to entertain (or empathise with) his perspective. It hints at a certain stubbornness she has when she believes she's right and someone else is wrong.

This is just what I personally glean from the text; it's possible I've missed something that somebody else considers ultimately integral. But I hope that my writing in Way Out speaks for itself in how I apply all this to her character in the story, and why I feel it's important to do so. Cynthia is the character I second-guess the most in her characterisation because she should always be recognisable, even while going through different arcs. Her values, her intelligence, her sincerity, and her kindness are all things that need to be balanced with the needs of the story; how strong she is is just a relative thing to what any particular scene demands.

There's a lot I could still elaborate on but for the sake of at least attempting to keep this (relatively) concise, I wrote all this to highlight how I try to stay on track with consistent characterisation, which may not be the perfect ideal for this character but nevertheless is the best version for my story. There's nobody I hold to a higher writing standard than myself, and I try to constantly ask myself if I'm really writing what's best for the narrative or if I can do something better. I'm not interested in the most canon depiction that exists for another story, I'm interested in what's right for my story.

And uhhhh peace ✌️

[intolerable-sushi]

Loving madness

Wilford x reader

Hello folks!!! I am currently sick with the flu, so I have had time to go through my drafts and work on things!!! This is an wilford x gn reader story that I may or may not continue depending on how I feel. Let me know if yall like it, enjoy!!!

Your friends had dragged you to a new club on your birthday to celebrate despite you begging for a small party. Instead of a couple of drinks with your friends inside your perfectly temperate house, you were now sweating like a pig in the corner of the club. Your friends were having a good time at least, with each finding a random guy to grind on. You could barely hold the panic that threatened to spill out of your throat as the club became more crowded. You hated this. You needed to get some air. You could barely make your way through the crowd as you searched for some sort of sanctuary. As your panic began to overflow and tears started to cloud your eyes, you bumped into a man as he turned around, spilling your drink all over him. You began to apologize profusely afraid that he would be angry with you, as he had every right to be. 

____________________________________________

Loving Wilford had been a mistake. A mistake that you could have easily avoided if you hadn’t been so short-sighted and naive. It had all been going so well when you had first met. 

“Now, now, it's alright darling. A little spill never hurt anyone. These things happen all the time! Now, are you alright?” The man was tall , wearing a yellow shirt and khakis. His smile was warm under his mustache and his eyes had this spark in them. You froze, he was beautiful. “Miss I understand that I am quite a catch if I do say so myself, but I do believe that you need to breathe.” You need to breathe? Oh shit you had stopped breathing. You took in a quick gasp before apologizing again. His eyes appeared to soften as he looked at you. 

“You look like you are having a rough night. Why don’t we get you outside for some air?” He placed his hand on the small of your back as he guided you towards the door. Once the two of you were outside he sat you down on a chair that you were sure wasn’t there when you had walked out. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s gotten someone as stunning as you all frazzled.” You explained that today was your birthday, and that your friends had dragged you to this new club despite you wanting a small get together. Everyone else was having fun, but the atmosphere was overwhelming to you. You didn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun so you just stayed quiet. The tears that had been collecting in your eyes began to fall. You just wanted to go home now.  

The man had listened silently to your explanation before letting out a huff. “ Those don’t sound like very good friends. Today is YOUR birthday not theirs. You should be doing what you want to do today!” You stated you would rather not cause any problems. The man huffed again, “Wanting to be celebrated in a way you enjoy is not causing problems.” The man appeared to be almost steaming as he began to pace in front of you muttering to himself. 

You stood up from your chair and said you would rather just head back to your apartment now. The man stopped his pacing and turned to you, “Alright, but may I walk you home to ensure your safety.” You thought about it for a second. This definitely was not the safest part of town, so walking by yourself was risky but at the same time, you didn’t know this man. You couldn’t help but eye him suspiciously. Was he really safe or did he have another motive?

The man seemed to realize what you were thinking and he cleared his throat. “ My apologies, where are my manners? My name is Willia- I mean, Wilford Warfstache at your service.” He said while taking a deep bow with his hand to his chest. You couldn’t help but to giggle at the name. Warfstache, what an interesting name. You decided that he seemed kind enough and told him he could walk you home. 

The two of you talked the entire way there. Wilford was kind, passionate, and funny. He had so many stories to tell and you felt like you could listen to him for hours. He made you smile and you couldn’t help the feelings of butterflies forming in your stomach. Before you parted ways that night you gifted Wilford with your number and a kiss on the check. 

The two of you began to see each other regularly and talked almost nonstop. Being with Wilford felt like a dream. He was a gentleman in all things, but he helped push you out of your comfort zone. The two of you had gone on skating dates, picnic dates, and you even went to a dance club at some point. Wilford had kept you close to make sure you were safe and comfortable. 

You were so happy and naive that you had ignored the problems and red flags. Wilford rarely talked about his past, with the only people he ever brought up being his childhood friends Mark and Damien. Sometimes he would mention a past love, but he didn’t seem to remember her name. Which brought up another concern; his memory. He struggled with simple things like the date, or even where he was. Which explained why he didn’t talk about his past. You suggested he go see a doctor multiple times, but he would refuse with a kind smile every time. 

 Other issues were harder to ignore, like when he started to just appear in places. In the apartment he could be in the bedroom one minute, and then in the kitchen the next. You explained it away with you just not paying attention, but that excuse didn’t work when he did it outside the house. Walking away to go to the bathroom only to appear in front of you when you turn back around. You should have started asking questions then. You should have payed attention as the light slowly left his eyes, when his face began to have random twitches, or when his mustache started to turn fucking pink. You ignored it all, explaining it all away in your head like a naive fool. Maybe you could have saved him. It’s too late to know now. 

Eventually his descent went from a trickle of odd occurrence to a waterfall of concerns. You would come home to him sitting at the table with a drink in hand staring at the wall muttering to himself. You could only catch the words “I did” from him. He would snap out of it when you would call him, and go back to being regular old Wilford, but over time even that stopped working. He would avoid the topic every time you brought it up, saying, “I’m fine love, I promise.” As this went on you could no longer ignore the fact that he started to randomly appear in your house when you knew he wasn’t there. You had screamed at him the first time he walked into the kitchen from your room. The two of you started to argue. He refused to talk to you about anything, and you were begging him to get help. You could see him slipping further and further from you, but he was just being so stubborn. 

Everything came to a head when you had been watching the news one night. There had been a massacre, two men and three women had been shot and killed. “The killer is still at large.” The news reporter stated, “ It is suggested that everyone stay in their homes until further notice. Talks of city wide curfew are currently in the works” 

Your front door suddenly slammed open! You turned to see Wilford staggering inside before slamming the door closed behind him.“Darling are you home?” He called, “You would not believe the night I’ve had!” You felt relief wash over you seeing your love, but that feeling stopped when something shun in his hand. A gun. Your blood froze for a second as you stared at the weapon. You were no longer listening to Wilford as questions flooded your head. Did he kill those people? Wilford would never hurt anyone!! He’s been so kind!! But why is he holding it right now? Why is it not holstered? Is that smoke?

“Darling?” Wilford had noticed you staring at his gun. He looked behind you to see the news broadcast. “Oh that? That was just a little accident, my love, no need to worry! It’ll work itself out!” An accident? It had been an accident? So why did he run? You looked into his eyes and your body couldn’t help but stiffen. There was no regret or sadness for the lives he had taken. The madness that you had been ignoring had taken over his eyes. Even the love he had for you was hard to find. You couldn’t help but be afraid for a moment. 

His smile began to falter as he stared at you. “My love? What’s wrong? You know I would never hurt you right? It was just an accident I swear.” He slowly began to approach you with his hands up, but the gun was still in hand. You scrambled off the couch to get away from him. His face fell at that moment. He backed towards the kitchen before slumping onto the table, “I’ve lost it haven’t I,” He whispered almost to himself, “ I thought I had more time, but it’s really slipped away, hasn’t it.” He finally looked back up at you, and for a moment you saw the Wilford you had met that night. 

You begged him to let you help him. The two of you could fix this! You can’t lose him! You were sobbing now. You began to  slowly make your way around the couch towards him.

“STAY”

You froze as he snapped at you. He looked back down at the floor. “I’m too far gone love. I’m gonna forget everything eventually. Even you…” He began to grip the edge of the table, “ You don’t deserve this. You are so sweet, and caring. I wish I could give you the world,” the table began to crack under his grip, “ I don’t deserve you. I can’t keep you safe. Not when I’m the thing putting you in danger.” 

Wilford rose up from the table and looked at you with a sad smile. “ I can’t be with you love. It was selfish of me to think otherwise. I can’t destroy your life like I destroyed theirs. I have to go, but if you ever need me just call for me, and I’ll come. Even if I don’t remember you, I promise I’ll protect you.” You didn’t understand, you begged him to explain. He only shook his head. “Goodbye my love,” With that he disappeared in front of your eyes. 

You haven’t seen Wilford since, and you’ve been a wreck. You loved that man. You shouldn’t but you did anyway.  You just couldn’t understand any of this. What was he? Why did he kill those people? You’ve been crying yourself to sleep trying to think of the answers, but none ever came.

One night things took another turn. 

You were crying in your room as you had done for many nights when suddenly, “Poor, sweet thing. All teary eyed over a lost love. Confused with no answers,” A voice called out to you from the darkness of your room. You reached to turn on the lamp on your night stand, but the light barely even reached the edge of your bed. What’s happening? “ Relax little one, I am here to help you. I have some information that could be of use to you. I don’t ask for much in return. Just a simple favor,” From the shadows stepped a man in a suit. He stood tall and proud, with gray skin like a thunder cloud. His form seemed to break and strain, with the man appearing to scream in pain for one second then be back to his standing posture the next. “Why don’t we talk about this over ice cream?”

[azuralnguyendd]

[NO TITLE/ORIGINAL TITLE SCRAPPED]

Date started: 24th August, 2024

Date finished: 27th August, 2024

[Any typos made in here will or won't be fixed, I don't have the patience for fixing them]

Chapter 1

Amidst the falling snow piling on the ground and on top of roofs and trees, the battle below raged on without a care in the world; of course, that is if you count trying not to get blown up, sliced open, stabbed in the back or anywhere on your body and burned alive. However, being killed countless times has become a norm in the job; with the Respawn machine always bringing them back from or before they passed the astral plane, dying is like a "game over" in your typical video game.

Footprints from the mercenaries' boots imprinted themselves in the layers of snow, bullets and bodies drops to the ground here as they are riddled with said bullets. Classes on both sides try their best to score points by killing each other, while some would rather be stealing kills from their teammates who put effort into eliminating the ememy. It was just another typical day in the Cold Front for both the BLU and RED team.

Pushing the front lines to capture the RED's second control point was a BLU Übercharged Heavy. Like every heavies, he protected a BLU Medic behind him, who was providing him his invincibility. At best, the BLU Medic looks tired, bored even, but it still was sort of hard to tell with the medical mask covering his face at all times. His breath comes in the form of cloudy fogs, soon merging with the cold atmosphere of his surroundings.

Everyday was the same, with no new excitement or something to lift his spirit and give him motivation to even get himself out of bed; all his current experiments were pushed back because of the weather, the doctor was given a constant series of headaches because of Scout followed by the unnecessary scolding of their team's Soldier after every round. With the same repetitive cycle day after day, Medic was beginning to feel like his health was declining.

At the moment, the cold wasn't helping him or the situation he was in. Having to wear two winter coats to shield himself from the cold, and to also to protect his exposed chest, it was beginning to get a bit suffocating. He was taken out of his trance was he noticed Heavy running in front of him. Out of breath because of the winter coats and the cold, he ran up right behind him while his invulnerability wore off.

The last control point was seized by the BLU team and the Administrator's voice came through the speakers, announcing the obvious winning team. The REDs groaned in defeat and all retreated back to their bases. Everyone in the BLU team was congratulating the heavy for securing their victory as they were heading back, Medic felt left out, and he frowned at that; the last control point would not have been won if it wasn't for him and his Über. Despite the ridiculous situation, Medic didn't speak up about his conflictions. Right now, he just needs to get back into the base where everything was warmer.

As soon as Medic passed under the base's door frame, he nearly sprinted to his infirmary. This wasn't a shock to the rest of the team, and they chuckled among themselves; the doctor always had his chest out in the open, it was no wonder why he was shaking to the core and was glad to be somewhere warmer. The infirmary had a heater in the corner, something that some places in the base doesn't have, and he immediately rushed over to turn it on. The room grew warmer by each passing minutes, and Medic relaxed in his chair.

The infirmary was filled with the heater's warmth, with the addition of a few doves cooing on the ceiling beams. Medic placed his legs on the table, crossing one over the other as he gazed at the ceiling, pondering about his life. As previously stated, his life has been quite boring, everything was the same day after day.

What's worse was that he didn't even get along with his Heavy. Yes, they were in quite a stable friendship, and this started a few months back. But Medic started to realize that Heavy did not mean to propose actual friendship, but rather something that tied Medic to him, something that was meant to guilt trip him everytime Heavy was denied of a favour. When confronting Heavy about that matter, the doctor was met with a rather nasty argument. He meant to solve it in a peaceful way, a way that meant they could still keep that friendship, but instead he has broken all ties to Heavy. That didn't mean that he still doesn't need to heal or Übercharge him on the field, or communicate with him during mandatory team meetings and every other days.

Medic looked over to his shoulder, a weight has settled on it and it appeared to be Archimedes. He smiled softly and scratched the bird's head. "You alvays know vhen daddy's upset, don't you?" Medic said sadly, still taking in the comfort of his pet dove. The other doves on the beams flew down, surrounding Medic in a nest of doves. This didn't bother him, rather it gave him more comfort.

Interrupting this moment was a loud crash coming from outside the infirmary, startling Medic and the doves. They flew cautiously back on the ceiling beams and Medic jumped out of his chair, sprinting to the door. He opened it and rushed out, the door slamming on the wall behind it; Medic hoped he didn't break the door, the repair will be going to his paycheck if he did, and he needed all the money he can save up. There was another crash, this time sounding like someone dropped to the floor. Medic skidded across the floor into the common room, where he found the RED Scout trying to escape with the intelligence and the RED Heavy brawling with his own.

Pulling the bonesaw he kept on his belt out, the doctor charged into the fight. He managed to stab the RED Scout, making him drop the briefcase. He kicked it away from the common room, getting it to slide under a table nearby. He wondered where the rest of the team was and why they weren't rushing to help.

The doctor then turned his attention to the two Heavies fighting each other. In a desperate attempt to help his friend, he stabbed the RED Heavy in his side to which he cried out in pain. He swinged his arm in Medic's direction, flinging him half way across the room. He fell flat on the floor, his head colliding quite painfully against it and his exposed chest hurting from the impact taken. Medic's vision blurred, probably because his glasses dropped somewhere, but he started to feel lightheaded. He was having a concussion. Catching a glimpse of the RED Heavy escaping from the BLU Heavy's attack, Medic passed out on the floor a bit away from them. That's going to have an impact on his health, and reputation.

When the doctor awoken, he used one arm to support himself as he sat up, the other went to his head then to his chest, holding it to ease the headache he was experiencing and soothing the pain before he gets a heart attack next. Taking a look around the room, it was completely wrecked, but gladly the briefcase was still where he left it. There was blood all over the floor, and the RED Scout's body was picked up by Respawn. There was no sign of his Heavy within the room, and no other teammates for that matter. He was left to clean up yet another mess.

Getting up and regaining his balance, he first began picking up his bonesaw and putting it back into his belt, then the things that fell on the floor and putting them back on wherever they were before. The only thing that was broken was a stool, surprisingly, which he supposed Heavy used to hit the RED. Without worrying about getting the wooden splinters stuck in his hand because of the latex gloves, he picked up the broken pieces of wood carefree.

Immediately after he finished cleaning up the mess on the floor, a distinct sipping sound presented itself behind him. Whipping his head back, he found Sniper standing behind him, leaning against the door frame. Without a proper "hello", Medic stalked towards him and grabbed him by the shirt collar. This surprised the taller man, and he looked at the doctor in confusion.

"Vhere in zhe hell vere you vhen ve got ambushed?!" Medic said angrily, releasing Sniper's shirt collar and pushing him back with one hand. Any kind of arguments, excuses, explanations or insults thrown at Medic by the marksman fell to deaf ears as he resumed his duty of tidying up the common room. Sniper stormed off in a fit of rage, swearing under his breath, something having to do about Medic being "a pissy faux".

Medic went to the broom closet to retrieve a mop. First, he filled a bucket to wet the thing then squeezed it, making sure it's not too wet. He came back and began the last thing of the tidying up of the common room. Medic mopped up all the blood, having to go back and forth to clean the mop. As he cleaned, he noticed another trail of blood, seemingly dragging itself away from the other pools of blood. Upon further inspection, the trail led him to the back of the base. Was this where the RED Heavy escaped to?

Medic positioned the mop against a wall, first making sure that it wouldn't fall then he snuck out to the back, where Medic assumed the RED Heavy bled out and died, then hopefully got picked up by Respawn. Surprisingly, he was still alive. He sat next to the workshop's door, but the engineer wasn't in there, nor was there any sign of Pyro being present and guarding it with a few sentries; there was absolutely nothing to protect the back from being ambushed, it was no wonder how they got in.

Medic leaned out slightly from the wall he leaned against, the corner scratching against his chest. Damn, he really need to get a new shirt and coat soon, this just won't do.

The RED Heavy held onto the injury on his side with a tight grip, all the while pressing his back against the cold wall of the base. It was still snowing, but it seemed like nothing but a minor inconvenience to the Russian man. Medic watched the man, his shallow breath and the RED Heavy's laboured breath coming in the form of fog in the cold. Medic reached for his bonesaw on his belt, gripping lightly on the handle as he remained in the same position, watching the enemy Heavy. There was nothing interesting about watching him slowly bleed out, but it was the only thing Medic could do, other than killing him, of course.

Medic's grip stayed light on the bonesaw's handle. The sight of the Heavy just slowly dying brought a weird feeling to him, a feeling that reminded him that he was in that situation before; when there was no one to help him, he sat against the wall and bleed out, watching the scout pick up the health kit he so desperately needed; it was a horrible feeling.

The doctor released his grip on his weapon and slowly stepped back. He can't kill him like that. Yes, he was the enemy and he ambushed the BLU base on ceasefire, but Medic couldn't bring himself to kill a helpless guy, not while not being on the battlefield; he had sympathy too, unlike the RED Medic, who sees all life forms as "disposable". He left the RED Heavy alone, resuming his duty cleaning up the mess in the base. Medic was sure that the RED Heavy could simply drag himself back to his place, otherwise Respawn had his back.

The absolute bloodshed on the battlefield was sending surges of adrenaline through every mercenaries' blood, like always. This time, Medic finally got himself a new uniform instead of wearing the torn apart one from all the other times; he finally feel warmer within the confine of his one thick winter coat. As usual, he followed his Heavy around, occasionally healing his other teammates when he encountered them.

The BLU's second point was about to be capped, and the doctor would not allow it. Leaving Heavy's side, he ran towards the second point to defend it; as a one man army, he will obviously die, but it was worth trying, it's been quite a while since he was able to attack an enemy on his own. On his way to the second furthest point of the Cold Front, Medic slipped on the snow multiple times, some times he barely got a grip of himself and regain balance. It was embarrassing, and Medic was sure he will not be able to defend anything if he kept it up.

As soon as he got there, the doctor encountered the RED Heavy. Suddenly, he got cold feet, so he stood there and watched as the point slowly get capped. The RED Heavy turned to look at him, then immediately started revving up his minigun, ready to open fire if Medic approached. It came as a surprise to the RED Heavy when Medic didn't attempt to make a single move, not even moving to grab his syringe gun or crossbow.

Internally, Medic screamed at himself to do something, to kill him. Just because he began to feel sympathetic for the the enemy once, doesn't mean he can't kill him cold-blooded on the battlefield. Still, Medic couldn't bring himself to kill the RED Heavy after encountering him in that state the day before. Making up his mind one last time, he pulled out the crossbow, aiming and ready to shoot.

All too soon, the point was capped and that was another win for the RED team. Not wanting his team to catch him in such a state, he ran the opposite way to the RED Heavy back to his team. Stealthily sneaking into Respawn then walking out hastily to give the impression he just died, Medic approached the group of blue uniforms wearing mercs. They were, again, complaining about their defeat; the RED team always seemed to have to upper hand. No one paid much attention as to why the doctor wasn't present at the time their defeat was announced, assuming he was shot down by a sniper.

Medic walked back to the base with his team, all bickering about a poker game that were about to play that evening to relieve some stress. Looking behind his back, he noticed the RED team spending a little more time outside playing in the snow. It was always frequent to see the REDs hanging out with each other outside the base, but that wasn't what caught his attention. Rather, it was the RED Heavy who was, as well, present; he just stood there, a little away from his team, watching the BLUs as they head back into the base. Strange.

[This has a second chapter, but it is unfinished and won't be finished. I won't answer any questions regarding this fanfic]

[livingd3adqpid]

I've got your number but not once have you answered your phone till now, so now I'm at your door. (By FOB)

Part 1. (Maybe??? Idk tbh).

(Matt x Mello fanfic inspired by the song Emergency Contact by Pierce The Veil)

{Tags: slight angst, fluff, late confessions, reunions, a bit of crying}

[A/N: This is my first time writing a fanfic here, let alone writing one fully in English, so I apologize if my English isn't that good. Please enjoy!!]

It was raining at Whammy's, and the atmosphere at the orphanage was quiet and peaceful, which was kind of unusual for that late afternoon.

The clacking and tapping of the gaming controller echoed through the closed door of one of the dorms. A frustrated yell came right after the hard slam of another door, but this time, it came from Roger's office across the hall.

An upset blonde kicked the room's door open in the blink of an eye, revealing Matt, a redhead with glasses sitting on a beanbag, who greeted him in a monotone way without pulling his eyes away from the little TV screen.

"Hey Mells, why did Roger call you in?" The redhead asked, not gaining a single word from his roomie; instead, there were a lot of rustling sounds and things were thrown around.  Matt grew a little concerned, so he finally paused the game and turned around.

Mello looked back at the redhead with his big sapphire eyes, enraged and a little puffy, as he held a bunch of clothes he had just pulled out of the drawer they shared. Matt could tell from miles away the frustration building up in Mello's expression, he knew the blonde too well to tell.

"Mello?" Matt called out for his friend, whose expression tightened as soon as he heard the redhead speak. Matt just walked over to the door and closed it, turning to Mello with growing worry.

They both looked at each other in silence until the redhead walked over to the blonde. Mello just straight up pulled him into a tight hug, which Matt reciprocated, still confused.

"L's fucking dead..." Mello said as he buried his face in Matt's shoulder. Matt froze, then he squeezed Mello a little.

Those words felt like a bucket of cold water had been dropped on top of him. Even though Matt wasn't on Mello's level, let alone Near's, he felt some sort of admiration for the man who was the idol of the orphanage's kids.  Now that he was gone, all Matt could think of was his companion's grief. Mello was close to L; he looked up to him, which originated his rivalry with Near, but now the motive was gone.

"Did he..." Matt gulped, looking at their reflection in the window. "...Choose his successor?"

Mello felt a huge knot in his throat, getting tighter as he remembered what Roger told him and Near, along with the albino's words.

"This useless successor shit doesn't fucking matter anymore." Mello muttered, clenching his fists behind Matt's back. "I'm leaving this shithole for once."

Matt felt his stomach turn.

"You're leaving, then." Matt broke the hug, letting go of Mello as he lowered his head. 

"I'm sorry..." Mello mumbled, walking back to the drawer and throwing stuff inside a backpack.

The redhead turned away from the blonde, wishing deep down he could go and leave everything behind. He'd say yes to any invitation without hesitation; he just didn't want to leave his side so soon.

Matt cursed the orphanage quietly; he cursed L for allowing his family to bear such a heavy burden at such a young age—the same burden for which he saw others literally die for.

Mello zipped his backpack, signifying that he had finished packing. The blonde bit his lip as he saw the redhead with his back still turned to the TV. Some pressure in his heart emerged as he stared and couldn't sense if he was going to turn to face him.

"Matt, I need to catch Kira." Mello answered, clenching his fists. "He needs to be stopped and prosecuted for what he did to all of those innocent people, to L--"

"That's fucking bullshit!" Matt exclaimed, interrupting Mello as he threw his goggles against the floor. "Don't lie to me; you want to prove yourself to Roger and the others."You want to prove that you're capable of beating Near!"

Mello finally snapped; the pressure of having to bear the news of L's death and not knowing if he'd even chosen a successor was too much. Having his close friend, the one person who understood and stayed by his side for so long rightfully call him out, was just enough for Mello's emotions to overflow.

He didn't want to let grief make him snap at the person he loved so dearly.

"Okay, and what if I do?!" Near has done nothing but sit, build a shitty puzzle, and say something smart. I've done more than him, and my work is NEVER recognized; it wasn't enough for Whammy, nor Roger, not even FUCKING L."

Matt's eyes widened, and Mello's started to fill with tears.

"You don't get how hard it is for me," the blonde said, turning his head down to face the floor. "I refuse to let that fucker destroy me that easily..."

Hot, angry tears started rolling down Mello's red cheeks as he huffed in frustration. Matt just stared at him, eyes still wide, and his chest contracted from all the air he held in as he listened to Mello get off. The whole thing was so hard on both of them, and Matt finally acknowledged just how much this meant to Mello, and that realization hit close to his heart as soon as the first tear made its appearance.

"Mihael..." Matt approached Mello, who nudged him on the side of his arm as soon as he saw the redhead approach him. 

"Stop." Mello hid his face in between his hands; vague sobs were the only sounds coming from him. "Stop pitying me...”

But before anything else could be said, Matt stormed out of the room as everyone was gathered for dinner, leaving Mello with his heart on his sleeve, holding his tears as he sat on the bottom bed of the bunk they shared. 

-

He sure needed to think.

There was so much Matt thought about for those long 30 minutes he spent in line.

Maybe he and L weren’t as close as Mello and Near were with him, he had forgotten about that until he saw the other kids wailing silently in the cafeteria by the recent news provided recently. Through the crowd, Matt noticed Near in the living room, slouched and solving a puzzle all by himself; the albino’s face suddenly turned towards the redhead, which made him flinch.

“L is dead, Matt.” Near commented, his eyes stuck in Matt. 

“I know.” Matt answered, his head turned down to the carpet. “Mello wants to leave, he refuses to work with you.”

Matt’s words had some poison in them towards the other boy, who didn’t even blink in response, but he turned towards his puzzle instead.

“I hope you’re fucking happy now that you’ve got the title all to yourself.” Matt muttered, leaving Near in the living room by himself to leave to the big hall where the dorms were.

There he was now, walking through the halls of the orphanage  with the rain still going; only this time it was pouring stronger than before. He had actually managed to meditate on the line to get food and now he was determined to head over to their dorm room with two plates of warm lasagna and soft vegetables along with two cups of soda and some of Mello’s favorite chocolate brand. If Mello wanted to leave, then at least Matt would apologize and ask if they could eat together one last time before who-knows-when they meet again.

Matt wished for their last hours together to be nice, fun and grudge free.

The image of L came to his mind as soon as he touched the door knob to their room with his elbow. A shiver went down his spine as he opened the door to find Mello still there, asleep on the bean bag with trails of tear stains in his cheeks. Matt almost started to cry from both relief and grief, but he held it in before nudging Mello with his shoe. The blonde’s eyes fluttered before opening wide and sitting back up in the bean bag; Matt handed him the plate and sat beside him to eat his. As they shared some awkward silence, Mello placed his hand on Matt’s and squeezed it tight.

“I’m still leaving, you know that better than everyone.” Mello said, a teary tone remained in the sound of his husky voice. Matt turned back to Mello and sighed.

“I’ll take you to the bus stop myself.” The redhead replied without thinking, and the blonde’s eyes widened by his answer. “What? I mean it, just– finish eating and we’ll sneak out when everyone’s asleep. If leaving is what you want then so be it.”

Mello didn’t know what to say, he just nodded back at Matt and started to finish his food, munching it carefully as Matt looked with awe. At 10 pm sharp, Matt set an alarm before he and Mello lied down, hugging each other tight. Mello’s hand was caressing Matt’s head gently as they both tried to take a brief nap. 

Mello felt his heart beat faster and his face burn as he felt Matt cling onto him while asleep. This kind of proximity was common between both boys, and they both knew it was due to something else. This kind of scenario only happened when the other needed comfort, but Mello had not once mentioned needing it today. Today's events led his to scream and wail and push everything away-- he was about to run away at 15 all by himself in a couple of hours now!

As soon as he turned down to see Matt snoring soundly on the blonde's chest, Mello's lip quivered with doubts that invaded his head like a pest, making his arms wrap around Matt's sleeping body as his sobs were muffled by the pillows.

He didn't want to leave the only person who stayed by him during all of these years, but he knew bringing him with to catch an immature mass murderer could be the biggest danger he's ever been so far.

So the conclusion that Mello's mind came to, was to wait.

Wait before it was time to go.

Because the blonde knew damn well he didn't want to let go of the redhead and possibly die in this investigation, yet he couldn't bear with asking Matt and risking his life as well...

He loved him too dearly to even think about inviting him.

[clothyume]

Astraea's Atelier: Epilogue 3

Epilogue 3 

Summer 

Shu: Fufu. Create to your heart's content, Kiryu. Art is not something that can be forced upon you, but something fun. 

You only have one life, so you want to spend it doing nothing but having fun. 

Chiaki: Yup. That's true, but in order to survive, you have to work properly too. 

That’s time, Kiryu. I can hear some noise outside– The filming crew for the travel show we’re supposed to be appearing on has probably arrived. 

Kurou: That’s true. That’s a shame, it was just getting interesting. 

Leo: Wahaha☆ You don’t have to stop working! It's not the film crew, it's me! 

Kurou: Tsukinaga. Where the hell did you go? 

Leo: Eh? Are you angry, Kurou? Did I do something wrong? 

Kurou: No, I’m not. However, if you could just get used to locking doors, we could have avoided such a complicated situation– 

Leo: Lecture me later! Moreover, your strategy is to cover up the culprit’s work to provoke and lure them out, right? 

It seems to have been a great success! 

Chiaki: What are you saying? 

Leo: Wahaha! Is ‘What are you saying?’ All you can say? I’ll call you what-you-saying space man! 

No, the culprit really has been lured out! 

While I was staked out by the atelier, I saw someone wandering around. 

If we hurry, we can probably catch them. What’ll we do? They looked delicate, so it wouldn’t need four of us to attack! 

Shu: Hmph. How many times do I need to tell you, leave it to the police to arrest suspicious people. 

Anyway, eventually the culprit won’t be able to stand it and will step in, telling us not to tarnish their work any further. 

If you don’t have that kind of guts, if you don’t have the will to protect your work– 

Once again, I will reject such foolishness. 

Shame on you, mock artist. 

However, hopefully the culprit will step in soon. I want to spark artistic discussion, even through the night. 

This time I will examine this great body of work in a better light, and give it a fair evaluation. 

To welcome you into our heaven as an irreplaceable being who can create beautiful and valuable things. 

Leo: Hmm〜... But until we hear the story from the person themself, it’s all speculation. 

Shu seems to think the culprit is an artist. 

What should I do? What if my theory from last night is correct, and all the works lined up in the atelier were placed just to make Shu horny? 

No matter how you look at it, the face of the person wandering outside looked like a maiden in love. 

Shu: If that’s the case, I’ll call them a fool for creating works with such an ulterior motive, and have them arrested. 

I’m not good at fighting so I’ll leave it to Kiryu, who prides himself on his strength, and Morisawa, who is an ally of justice, to deal with it. 

Chiaki: Hmm, but we’ve got work. 

Kurou: That’s right. If you meddle with someone else's love story, you’ll get kicked into hell by a horse, so we freeloaders will quickly excuse ourselves. 

Shu: Wait. You know by now that I’m not good with such topics, so are you going to abandon me? 

You’re going to leave me alone? At least you’re still on the side of justice aren't you, Morisawa?  

Chiaki: I feel weak when you say that, but the reality is that this sort of thing is a job for the police…♪

Leo: Oh! The culprit has finally arrived! So, why are they here? I’m excited~! 

Shu: W-Wait! I have provided you with meals, lodging and other things, haven’t I? And you’ll just leave me like this!? 

Perhaps this is my retribution as an ungrateful person who once denied the culprit’s work!? 

Kurou: Haha. Now that’s unusual, Itsuki with a face this panicked. 

Chiaki: Ah, I hope we can see something just as interesting in the next country! The travel programme has only just begun! 

Shu: Wait, you two! Don’t give off such a happy-go-lucky atmosphere! The case hasn't exactly been resolved! 

Leo: ♪~♪~♪

Shu: Don’t hum an ending theme! Tsukinaga…! 

[sunberry-strawflower]

#curtissonweek2023

Yayyy!!! Day 3 is upon us and I'm not too late!

This fic was like the last two where I completely changed where I wanted to go with it, but it wasn't a struggle to write actually! I actually felt mostly relaxed and nice writing this one :) maybe bcz of the simple premise? I'm not sure haha

Anywayz the story is about artist!Burt and Sven is just...a normal guy LMAO

This was fun to write tho! Hope you enjoy!

(Event by @blue-fanlady)

Word count: 1.5k

Curtisson Week Day 3: Drawing

Burt was walking through the city with his sketchbook in hand, desperately trying to figure out what to draw. He was in a big drawing mood, but nothing out here seemed to catch his eye. There were different buildings, all different patterns and colors, but none of them seemed appealing enough for him to even make a rough draft of. He saw people walking along the sidewalk, whether they were talking with their friends or jogging while listening to music on their phone. While it was nice to see people enjoying themselves in their own way (even if it made him feel bitter about his own dull life), it didn't give him any inspiration at all. He came to the conclusion that he was definitely going through art block. 

He sighed as he looked down at the empty page. He was trying to think of something to get him inspired, maybe catch something in this busy city that's worth taking a page on his sketchbook, some kind of ounce of creativity, but alas, his mind still remained as blank as the page. 

Burt decided walking around the city wasn't doing him any good, so he walked into the building closest to him. Which happened to be a library. 

He was hit with the inside air and took a deep breath. He started to wander around and look at all the different books he was definitely not going to read. He thought maybe the covers of said books could give him a bit of inspiration. 

Some were soft and colorful, others were more dark and misty. Some had people or characters on it, and others were simply abstract colors and backgrounds. You can tell the genre of these by their name and cover more often than not. Stories about love, betrayal, friendship, drama, fantasy, history, and mystery were present. Maybe even more. Some of them seemed to mix two or more genres which was interesting. He picked up a few paperbacks, not to read, but to analyze the covers, hoping to find something that'll potentially give him some sort of spark. He sure hoped nobody came to the library for these specific books. 

He sat down at a table and put the hardcovers and his sketchbook on top of it. He slid his pencil from the spiral bound and tapped the wood on the table a few times. Most of the stories he picked out had gloomy-ish pictures. Maybe he could do something with those. 

Maybe something to do with night time? He could draw the night sky…but that was too simple. At least on its own. He needed to draw something with it. Something that stood out. 

While pondering on what to draw with this idea, he felt his eyes drift to another table not too far from his own. Another guy, presumably around his age, was reading a book. He had short blond hair and a small blue hat on. He changed expressions ever so slightly, probably reacting to the story. From what Burt could see from his small reactions, it was a bittersweet kind of telling. 

This guy seemed to be an expressive type of person. That's very helpful, especially because Burt needs to practice drawing expressions. Not only that, but this blond seemed to be exactly what he was looking for in his drawing. He would stick out perfectly with the night time atmosphere Burt wanted to go for. 

Would he get away with drawing him right now? It was worth a shot. 

Before he lost the motivation, he quickly picked up his pencil and started his piece, occasionally stealing glances from his unknowing model. 

He sketched the night sky, making sure not to let the black and gray entirely cover the page so he can fit the other stuff he had in mind as well. The library was quiet, aside from the sounds of his pencil scratching on the sketch paper and a page of a book flipping. Whether it was from the blond or somewhere else in the room. They weren't distracting, though. If anything, they were relaxing. 

Once he finished the night sky, he stole another glance from the other, still not having noticed Burt looking at him. He seemed too into the story he was reading to pay any attention. Well, worked for Burt. 

He began drawing the blond, a closeup of him sitting on a bench under the night sky, reading a book of a similar style. He didn't need to look at the other too much, as he had a decent idea of his appearance. He had a pretty good photographic memory, which saved him a lot of glimpses.

He finished up the sketch and mentally sighed to himself as he looked at it. Not his best work, but he felt he captured what he was aiming for well enough. He was considering coloring it, but he didn't want to risk possibly ruining the sketch. 

That guy served as a really good model for this piece, even if he had no idea. Though Burt should probably leave before somebody caught him being a bit creepy and drawing somebody without their consent or notice. 

He grabbed the books he took from the shelves and went to put them back, hoping nobody was searching for them earlier. Especially since he wasn't even reading them. 

After he finished putting the books back, he went to leave the library. However, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was missing something…

Oh, right. His sketchbook. Where was it? Did he mistake it for a book and put it on a shelf? He sure hoped not. The things in there were not for the public eye. 

He went back to the shelves and didn't see his sketchbook anywhere.

'Did somebody take it already?' he thought to himself, and started to panic a little. He then considered the fact that he might've left it on the table from earlier, and quickly made his way over there. 

Once the table was in his sight, he stopped in his tracks. His sketchbook was there, thank God, but there was somebody else there as well. It looked to be the blond from earlier. He had the sketchbook in his hands and his face seemed to be a mixture of awe and confusion. Or maybe just one of the two. It was hard to properly see him from this distance. 

Burt walked over there, worried that running would make too much noise. Once he made his way over, he tapped the other on the shoulder, which caused him to jolt and look in his direction. "Oh, hey." He greeted quietly. "Did you draw this?" 

Burt shamefully nodded, gently took the sketchbook away from the other and closed it. "Sorry. For drawing you without permission, I mean. It just kind of happened." He whispered. Again, he didn't want to be too loud in the library, but that didn't stop him from mentally screaming at himself and being embarrassed out of his mind. 

"Oh, that was supposed to be me?" He asked. "I thought so, but I wasn't sure. It looks really good." He smiled. Burt couldn't help but blush a little. Not many people have complimented his artwork before.

"Thank you." He said. Burt appreciated the compliment but still felt awfully embarrassed and awkward so he turned to leave without another word. 

"Wait." The other called out quietly. In any other setting, his voice would go unheard, but in the silence of the library, Burt could hear him loud and clear. 

Burt looked back, albeit hesitantly. "Hm?"

"What's your name?" He asked. Burt didn't understand why the other wanted the name of somebody he would probably never see again, but he guessed it only made sense to know the name of the person who drew you. Along with the person you're drawing. 

"Burt." He replied. 

"I'm Sven," He grinned. "Sorry for looking in your sketchbook, by the way. If it makes you feel better, I didn't look at any other pages."

That did make Burt feel a little better, but he still felt a little flustered. He shook his head. "It's fine, don't worry."

"Okay…good." Sven said. They stood there in awkward silence for a bit. 

"Are you–" "I'm going–" Sven and Burt immediately stopped talking once they heard the other, which honestly made this more awkward than it already was. Sven chuckled before urging Burt to go first. 

"Oh, I was just saying I'm going to go now." Burt said, and if he were a fool, he'd say Sven almost looked disappointed, but he brushed it off.

Sven was quiet for a few seconds before seeming to process what Burt had said and nodded. "Okay. Bye." He waved goodbye and Burt waved back, leaving with his sketchbook and pencil in hand. 

Once he exited the library, he looked down at the sketch of the blond--well, Sven. Weirdly, he felt more proud of it now. Still wouldn't consider it his best work, but it was better than he originally perceived. 

He couldn't hold back a smile as he signed Sven's name in cursive writing, next to his sitting figure. He wrote his name and the date it was drawn at the corner of the page, officially making this drawing another crucial part of his sketchbook. 

_______________________________________________________

See y'all on day 4!

[dark-academia-quotes]

NaNoWriMo survival tips

NaNoWriMo has officially started! I am sooo excited to start writing, and as a special celebration post, I will be sharing my top 10 survival tips for participating writers! If you're scrolling through this on Instagram, this will be part 1/2, so stay tuned for the remaining tips that are to come!

1.F*ck the traditional word count (if you want)

Yeah, you heard me right. You should totally not strive for 50k if that doesn't serve you! Set your own word count goal according to what is realistic to YOU. That could be 15k, 30k, or 100k! An ideal word count should push you to your limits without completely overstraining you. Should it be a challenge? Absolutely! That much of a challenge that you have burnout and writer's block for the next 2 months? Probably not.

2. Don't edit during NaNo

Seriously, just don't. It will slow you down, you will get frustrated and it will take your focus off of what should matter most this month: writing! If you want to, you can look at it from a scientific angle: Writing is done by the right side of the brain, which is responsible for creative processes, whilst editing is done by the left side of the brain, which is responsible for rational thinking. You can't write well while in editing mode, which is why you should totally keep those two processes separate, and save the editing for the months to come.

3. Stock up on snacks

Don't walk, RUN to the nearest supermarket if you haven't stocked up on your favourite snacks yet. For me, that is chocolate, tea, bread, and whatever salty thing I can get my hands on. Because you know what is stressful? Writing 50k words in a month. But you know what is even more stressful (and honestly downright impossible)? Doing so without SNACKS!

4. Create a space that inspires you

Inspiration is always important, but even more during NaNoWriMo, because that is one of the times where writing can feel like actual hard work, and doing hard work without some sort of inspiration or motivation will most likely lead to failure. Some ways that you can create that space are:

digital:

build a pinterest board for your WIP or your characters

create a YouTube playlist with author's interviews or dark academia videos

find some good writing/dark academia atmosphere on Ambient Mixer

browse through Social Media to find posts related to writing (like this one) to inspire you. Just make sure that doesn't become your main activity.

watch NaNoWriMo content on YouTube

make a Spotify playlist for your WIP

analogue:

light some candles

put on fairy lights

go for a walk regularly

decorate your room in a way that reminds you of writing (I have a looot of sticky notes on my wall)

5. Tidy up your space

To be fair, this is more of a Preptober thing, but if you haven't already, you should totally tidy up and organise your writing space in a way that is efficient to you. This way you can avoid disrupting your flow while writing, as you won't need to search for your stuff. This may include sorting already existing documents, going through your notebook drawer to eliminate the chaos in there or just giving your desk a deep clean.

6. Get your family on board

This is a very important thing for me this year, as I am staying with my family in Argentina, which means working under unideal conditions. I live with two children (7 and 11 years old), fights between them as well as between my cousin and her husband are common, I don't really have my own room and having a quiet space is rare due to the presence of five pets (thank god for the invention of noise cancelling headphones. They are cute though).

One way to make things easier, especially if you live in a familiar situation that is similar (or worse), is to get people on board. Tell them what you are about to do, put a sign on your door when you work, bribe your little brother with snacks to leave you alone when you write. I promise you it makes a difference. I realise not everyone has the option to do this, and if you are a writer (or any kind of artist really) that lives among people who aren't supportive of your dreams, know that I am with you and that I wish you all the best.

7. Reward yourself

I personally like to reward myself every 10k words I write during NaNo, and I make a list of the rewards I want to give myself beforehand. That way, when you're writing that one slow, complicated or just emotionally draining scene that just doesn't seem to end, you have other things to look forward to besides just winning. You can also give yourself small rewards every day you hit your word count - or do both!

8. Take care of your health

That obviously includes physical health: make sure to move your body every once in a while, don't use writing positions that could injure your back and make sure to eat full meals even when you are busy. That being sad, I want to put a special emphasis on mental health here. Don't stress yourself too much with your project, you aren't here to get a burnout. Be mindful and realistic about the goals you set. And remember, your mental health comes first. If you have to choose between maintaining it and finishing NaNo, your word count should never be the priority.

9. Have a reason

Now, that sounds pretty plain, but it can actually be pretty helpful once you start! Ideally, you should have a note/paper/document somewhere that lists exactly that: why you are doing NaNo, and why you are writing in general. Maybe you really have this story that you just have to tell to find your inner peace, maybe you want to choose writing as a career path, or maybe it just gives you joy to create stories. Maybe it is a coping mechanism. Whatever it is - write it down. That way you can come back to it when you feel like quitting.

10. Be kind to yourself

I know this kind of falls under 8., but I wanted to give this a special mention. Don't be harsh on yourself when you feel like you aren't going to hit your word count on the 15th. Keep writing. 30k/50k are better than quitting after 7k, and you will be glad you continued. You can get the rest of the words in in December.

If you get writer's block at some point, punching the Laptop and drowning yourself in negative thoughts are probably not going to make it better. Take a deep breath, acknowledge that the frustration is there, watch your favourite Disney movie, dedicate yourself to finding inspiration and then get back to writing. It is very likely that you will at some point be frustrated with this process, so having a frustration escape plan can really do wonders.

Anyway, that is it! If you enjoyed reading through this, kindly consider supporting me by commenting, liking, saving or sharing this post! And if you are interested in more writing and dark academia content, a follow is of course appreciated. That being said, have fun writing and make the best out of this year's NaNo!!

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

hi, i go by kaso (he/she). requesting for the twst and ror boys (with the exception of idia and leona)

im mostly on the neutral centerpoint when it comes to myself. im an introvert. im calm, mellow, down-to-earth. im also observant as i pick up small things n remember them when the time is right. also to js sniff out peoples intentions but its more of the first most of the time.

im a soft-spoken guy. usually im relaxed and unshaken, though my motivation seems to come on a whim ebery other day so i may seem out of it at times. its easy to keep my composure for most things and keep my emotions in check.  i have tendencies to be passive-aggressive when provoked and im kinda stubborn. but im chill and friendly.

its easy for me to pick up from setbacks. im naturally intelligent but i dont really study to keep it.. its not like i dont want because im quite self-aware its just the lack of motivation. im also quite clever when the time comes.. cant explain it but its kinda easy to play the cards right when its laid out in my favour.

i may have an avoidant attachment of the sort im not sure.

when it comes to humour, im genuinely such a corny person and its always a hit or miss for my jokes. its also tinged with satire and sarcasm most if not all the time. i love to laugh and will find anything funny that might come out of your mouth.

i enjoy indulging in my interests, listsning to music, drawing and other things. i dont really have set things i enjoy, i just do whatever makes me happy tbh. i love having fun but it drains me. id try everything once if i could to make more of the moment.

i think my greatest fear is being unable to uphold to what ive created and not achieving my dreams.. im not so sure if it truly bothers me though. i experience small emotional highs and lows so maybe thats why.

i cant tolerate critical people who need to call you out for every flaw or people that cant keep their mouth shut. not chatty or talkative people im talking abt those who gossip. trust is a really big thing for me and its honestly a huge turn off.

i love with actions rather than words. i try and take my time with someone and treat them with the best care i can muster. im very passionate abt the things and people i love and i feel and care deeply even if i show it terribly. its in the little things. my love languages are quality time and parallel play.

im not sure if i have a type if im being honest.. never really thought hard on enough.. is not being an ass to other count?? like idk bare minimum wins i suppose.

thanks ^_^

Hello Kaso! I pair you with: Silver!

Calm, laid back and observant, silver is open minded when it doesn't come to the protection of Malleus and likes his quiet. Though he doesn't mind company either. He's likely and prone to falling asleep though which does make him miss things here and there, so your observant mind comes in handy.

While he may or may not be able to draw himself he finds listening to music with you while you draw is a nice atmosphere to be around as well as being with another human, not that he doesn't like fae of course. Silver oftentimes does go in and out of sleeping, though he tries his best to stay awake when the time calls for it.

Shown to be a good cook under supervision he enjoys bringing you some home cooked food he'd made, and thankfully didn't let Lilia touch. His favorite thing about you is your soft spoken nature and calm personality, even if you do have your times of sarcasm and stubbornness. Silver is a person that respects your opinions and isn't one I can see gossiping and spreading rumors either.

I can see him being more introverted than extroverted and understand your need to have your social battery recharge at times. Silver is a hardworking individual especially when it comes to being a Knight, though he enjoys being able to rely on you even if it's something small and hopes you can do the same by confiding in him. Silver finds your cleverness interesting as well as your natural intelligence.

His favorite thing to do with you is spend quality time with you. As friends or something more he doesn't mind as long as you're by his side.

Character matchups found here

[garudabluffs]

Light at sunset illuminates a “bathtub ring,” a white band of mineral deposits showing previous water levels on Lake Mead along the Colorado River in Boulder City, Nevada.

Finding hope among the grim realities of climate change

"What role can each of us play in creating a more sustainable future? That's a question marine biologist and conservation strategist, Ayanna Elizabeth Johnson, explores in her new book, What If We Get It Right, Visions of Climate Futures. And she joins us now to talk about it. Ayanna, welcome to 1 a. Thanks for having me. And we wanna hear from you. How are you trying to make a difference in the environment where you live? Email us at 1a@wamu.org. Ayanna, before we get into the book, let's just first address the elephant in the room, the United Nations Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change or IPCC. They've warned for years about the critical threshold of 1.5 degrees Celsius of warming, which could lead to loss of coral reefs, irreversible ice melt, drought, and an uptick in heat related deaths. And climate scientists warn we could reach that threshold before 2030 if we keep emitting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere at the rate we're currently going. Despite that, what makes you optimistic about the future of our planet?

00:01:39 Well, I guess the most important thing is I wouldn't actually describe myself as an optimist. I mean, the title of the book, What If We Get It Right, has a question mark at the end of it. I'm not sure if we will. Right? I mean, I'm a scientist. I'm a realist. I've seen these scientific projections that you're talking about. And there's certainly a path with the one that we're on, which is not that great. It's possible that we'll have much more warming, and all of the extreme weather that goes along with that, right? The wildfires, the floods, the droughts, the sea level rise, the storms, all of that is those changes are already here and more is on the way, But we could chart a different path. We could deploy the many, many climate solutions we already have at our fingertips. And I think that's the sort of open secret of it all. We don't need to wait for some new technology. We just need to get to it. You know? We already know how to produce clean energy. Solar and wind are happening so fast, faster than anyone had anticipated those industries would grow. We know how to improve transportation and electrify that, how to improve public transit. I mean, we know how to do high speed trains. I wish we were doing that in America. That's like my big dream. We know how to green buildings and improve efficiency of all of our use of energy. We know how to farm better. We know how to improve our agricultural system to be lighter on the planet, and we know how to protect and restore ecosystems and take advantage of the magic that is photosynthesis. So I think the reason that I'm motivated, if not optimistic, is be because we have a huge range of possible climate futures. And a lot hangs in the balance of if we have 1.5 degrees of warming or 2.5 degrees Celsius, we're talking. So these are, like, many more degrees Fahrenheit. Right? It's the difference between a fever of a 100 for a human body and the fever of a 104. And we all know personally that that is a massive difference. So if we think of the planet in that way, I think we'll have a bit more sensitivity there. But what if we get it as right as possible maybe is a better way to say it because we could have a much more beautiful and and healthy and livable future than the one we're currently headed towards. As a scientist, when as you were listing

LISTEN 29:54 READ MORE Transcript https://the1a.org/segments/finding-hope-among-the-grim-realities-of-climate-change/

'What If We Get It Right?': Experts talk about addressing climate crisis in new book

September 13, 2024 8-Minute Listen READ MORE Transcript https://www.npr.org/2024/09/13/nx-s1-5084158/what-if-we-get-it-right-experts-talk-about-addressing-climate-crisis-in-new-book

[the-firebird69]

They want us to talk about the Mac proper and it's true they're going to try and limit school programs in regular cities and areas and the **** cities and they're going to do it by reducing funding. It's good to know it's good information we appreciate it. And we was presented as governor de Santis as doing the job we do understand you have an angle then you figure out you're screwed by it but it's much too late. It's too late for you

We're going to help our people and new people are going to be out on the limb and that's all there is to it. You're a damn nuisance when you're in amongst everybody.

Frank Castle Hardcastle

We're taking territory tonight and a lot of it they're motivating us with their fireworks and their threats and we're going to take a lot of territory and we do mean a lot fireworks don't go on for too long if they do the cops go around and pull people in as an excuse because they need stuff usually they stop around 11:00 PM and we have both had it with them already this guy is a huge jerk and we tried to aim for his screen I want him gone and our son is way too close for it to him you can't even get the screen fixed but for like a month if someone else has to do it now this guy is not listening to reason to anyone it seems and it's true and he spent and stuff it's gonna be time to say goodbye to him pretty soon they're saying September 22nd and we understand why that's not too far away it's July we're already into the month and there's August and September and it's not even a full month so it's almost three months and he'll be gone no it's pretty much two months and three weeks roughly and he'll be gone it's not that long and he's gonna get kicked out of here between that and we think it's true because he dies as Nathan Hale that's the day that he left and he's been a pain and he's he was a jerk back then too and he was trying to steal stuff he can tell he's a Weasel. Now we're gonna go after people right now i'm sending for them and I'm having it done and I don't wanna hear from you idiots. Do you start yapping or your your dumb stuff you're gone.

Thor Freya

We see that our sun extended a challenge to John Cena it's for a charity bout And it would be off campus of an arena and it would be pretty tame and the sun would have to have some quick lessons but his stipulation sorry he'd be 6 3 and at the end of his growing outwards so he would look like the African American we posted but be as strong as the Humongous no he'd be a little stronger the Tommy F gets it he gets very strong himself. So John Cena didn't say no and he kinda said yes but he doesn't think it would happen. And it might because they come to cities and stuff and they do exhibitions so our son is asking if he can wear a cup and they say yeah you can as long as you don't use it a weapon. Because I want to put it on my face like you do in the movie it says shut up chris that's a filter it's not a cup. Very funny I did hear what you're saying you can use it as one and it'll hold the filter on your mouth. What's really gross is it fits pretty good. So he kind of accepted and he's saying that they'll probably have to go into the ring but here in Florida sometimes they have exhibitions and they're having a weightlifting thing in August it's a bodybuilder contest he wants to go away because he wants to see what it's like he wants to see if the people are ruffians and if they get along and put the temperament is in the atmosphere it's worth even getting involved or if he's just going to go scrape a few pennies together in Sarasota. It's not that far away. People say it too it'd be a good act and they wanna see people who are big and strong at 6 foot 3 it would be a great act he would attract a lot of attention and people would want him to do all sorts of things. We've seen people up there doing this act it was a long time ago 10 years ago. When was 6 foot 5 one of them. And it was somebody knows it's probably Dave and he said I'm here to show you what I can do and people said okay what can you do so he came over to people and he said I can lift you and you up at the same time and he has a way to do it it costs their hands together and he lives up in the middle and he said it's not a ton of meat he says it's over 300 pounds and he says I lifted you clear off the ground so they said we need something else so he's looking around he says how did y'all stand on that board and there's a board there Ironically as handles on it so he lifts them up from the ground but I'm looking deadlift and it was awkward it almost fell off a lot they said that's not really that much fun. So he says how do you suggest I do it tied to the board. Get mad and left that was it. ctd'

[evelyn-penaherrera]

Installation Piece:

So far, I haven't felt the urge to title any of my pieces, but this one just feels like it needs one. I'm just not sure what it would be XD. I wouldn't be able to name it without my partners anyways. This piece was a group assignment, two classmates and myself were tasked with making an installation piece. No theme, no required material, just the objective. This was honestly the scariest shit. The act of working in a group is scary in that I have to trust that my team mates will put in their all, and I can't disappoint them either.

We weren't too sure what we wanted to do. All we new was what materials we already had, and that money is an object here. The image below was our original sketch, thinking we would use yarn and fabric suspended from the ceiling. On each side of the wall we would have mirrors, one would be regular and the other would be irregular with the "curtains" reflecting the opposite aspect.

We had purchased small mirrors that were actually candle holders from the dollar tree and scattered them between the walls. After, we arranged the spot lights until we liked how it reflected light on the walls. We took a step back and it sort of felt like "now what?" We actually got stuck at this point and we couldn't agree on how we should move further. For a good hour I think, we stagnated, it was a little crushing to be honest. We had brought so much fabric, I had spent the majority of the previous day crocheting some streamers for this, and now it really felt overwhelming.

The professor eventually came up to us, I honestly cannot remember a single word she said to us, but it gave us the motivation to move forward. I mostly stood to the side, de-tangling yarn, I was actually feeling a little unhelpful at this point, just sitting to the side that I pushed myself to hand knit (all knitting is knit by hand, I quite literally mean that I used my fingers as a loom to knit) some rope. Not done yet, I started further distressing the gold fabric. At one point I started tugging on individual threads of the fabric to gather it, just for visual appeal. I was glad we had the weekend to re-cooperate, because I ended up pushing myself pretty hard and my wrist and fingers were aching a bit. Looking back on it, I just didn't want to disappoint my team mates who had brought a majority of the materials, that I decided to over compensate with my fiber skills.

At the end of day one, we looked it over, and it was too top heavy. The fabrics didn't touch the floor, nor were they leveled. The right side was higher than the left. So there was just this large gap, between the floor and the piece.

After a little back and forth, we decided to bring some pillows and blankets for next class. For now, day one was over, and the weekend began. I really had to sit back and relax on this one, lots of stretching and resting for my aching joints. It left me with a lot of time to just think about what this piece even was anymore. We hadn't come up with a keyword to follow, we had vaguely talked about some themes we could play with while coming up with the sketch, but nothing definitive. When I snapped this picture, all I could think was, "this photographed well." But in real life, it just felt like whatever it was, it just wasn't there yet.

The weekend ended and we got to work. I strung up some Christmas lights, I honestly can't remember why, but I brought them so... We arranged the cushions, flattened and stretched the duvet, fluffed pillows, added a teddy bear AND DONE.

Well, almost. The addition of the Christmas lights added a warm tone that interfered with the cool LED spot lights. Removing the Christmas lights was an option, sure, but when we turned off the LED lights, the Christmas lights changed the atmosphere of the piece. It looked like a dream. We decided to replace the LED lights with warmer spot lights. Moving them, tilting it here and there, until we were happy with the arrangement. Finally, it was done.

We were finished before lunch. Critique wouldn't begin for another couple hours, so we mostly just stood around. At one point, we all just migrated to the piece. There were plenty of pillows and time to kill. We sat there for a couple hours just chatting away, there was left over yarn and I had left my crochet hook in my backpack over the weekend so I just started crocheting a cat.

Finally, it was time to present. While we were sitting around waiting for critique to start, the professor had come up to us and asked us to record ourselves using the space as we were. So when critic came, surrounded by our sweat and anxieties, the three of us sat in our piece and presented our work.

I wasn't sure what we were building. Just following directions to make an installment. But sitting there with my classmates and talking shit and crocheting the time away, I think I found it. I was so worried that it wasn't anything, that we had failed, that I had failed my teammates. But it just is. Every aspect was decided by the three of us, what directions should the fabric go, how low the Christmas lights should be, what shadow just looked pretty.

All in all, I'm really proud of what we accomplished. I felt so exposed the whole way through construction, especially when a class mate came up to us and just started feeding into our ego. It had to be perfect, people were expecting it to be! And in the end, it was, just not in the way I had thought it would be.

[askaceattorney]

(Previous Letter)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Probably a typo on Mod Franziska’s part.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: I half expect you to bust the Eminem song Without Me. It’s a horror game, but I enjoyed The Witch’s House.

Co-Mod: I’ve never been a fan of horror in general, but there have been a few exceptions.  Oddly enough, I wasn’t too fond of The Witch’s House, but there was another horror game made with RPG Maker that I found to be pretty enjoyable: Ib.  Which, as it turns out, was given an HD remake last year!

...Which, like many games, I still need to play.  😏

I can appreciate a game like that because it has a spooky/mysterious atmosphere that doesn’t go too heavy on the “freak the player out” factor.  Of course, I haven’t seen the new stuff in the HD remake, so I can’t say for sure if that’s still the case, but there’s a special place in my heart for the original game.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: 

Oh my gosh, I only made that reference ONE time and it was used as a joke. I never made any indication that Phoenix would be like Dr. Cox if you read the tag RIGHT HERE. 

The only thing I did was ask if Phoenix would make a great Dr. Cox. That doesn’t mean I believe it. It only means I’m not sure. 

I only knew of that line from a video clip I watched on YouTube. When I saw this question, I thought it’d be funny if Phoenix said it. As far as I know, the context when Phoenix said that line and when Dr. Cox said that line are completely different. I don’t even think both were said that with the same facial expressions outside of sarcasm. I don’t know how you took me asking everyone if they thought Phoenix would make a good Dr. Cox to mean that I believed he would. I guess when you ask someone if they have a dog, that means you believe they have a dog and not just ask a simple question out of curiosity. 

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: They kinda do, don’t they?

Co-Mod: Spooky.

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: A former pastor of mine served in the Navy, my step-grandpa was in the army and my biological grandpa was in the Medical Unite.

Co-Mod: Not personally, but I’ve met a few who served in the U.S. military.  I can’t imagine ever involving myself in armed combat outside of a video game, so I can’t help but admire the sort of courage they must have, to say the least.

(Referenced Letter)

Dear Dawsongfg,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: There are followers here that are dealing with this and others that write letters here as an outlet to escape from the very things irl that contemplate thoughts of this. Try to be aware that not everyone writes letters here to mess around. Some use it as an outlet or escape from stressful shit that happens irl. 

I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt, but be aware that people are dealing with this. In fact, I was answering letters from someone dealing with something similar and it was affecting how they were writing their letters. They’re better now, but that was the reason why it took me so long before I blacklisted the Hotti letters. I was using them as a scapegoat to distract everyone from going after someone else who had been going through a tough time irl, who was writing weird letters at the time.

Dear The-Carrotella,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Thank you.

Co-Mod: It’s compliments like that motivate us to keep doing a good job, so thanks!  (That’s true for me, at least.)

Dear Ladynoir,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: No, because if there’s anything we’ve learned for the past decade, it’s that nothing is ever truly discontinued. I mean, we’re having sequels to movies that were made decades ago! So, the rules remain and if AA claims to discontinue, it will still remain.

Co-Mod: My instincts tell me there’ll be more Ace Attorney down the road, too.  As for that sibling reveal, I could maybe be talked into writing a fanfiction about it...

Actually, no I couldn’t, because I’m still working on a dozen other things, but that might be a possibility somewhere down the road as well.  😉

Dear Charicla,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Don’t worry about it. We know when your mental health is low and if this is the reason for sending unhinged letters as you’d call them. You’re not even the one I was talking about when mentioning using the Hotti letters as a scapegoat. I did notice a few cringy letters from your end, but the person I was talking about did much worse and had been going on for much longer. If you didn’t notice, that’s good. 

Don’t feel bad if you ever write venting letters. We’re not offended or annoyed by them. Perhaps concerned, but that’s only because we’ve been depressed and hurt before. 

Dear Skibot99,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: We lost a couple of hundreds of subscribers since the Mod Maya and Mod Vera incident. So, with the subscribers also went the normal amount of letters we’d get.

Co-Mod: Yep.  The upside of that is that your letters will get answered somewhat sooner than before.  It’s an interesting paradox, isn’t it?

Dear Anonymous,

Chief Mod Edgeworth: Thank you.

Co-Mod: Thanks!  It’s not exactly the same blog it used to be with the original Mods heading off to parts unknown, but I’m glad to see it still going strong, too.  That’s true about a lot of things for me, in fact -- Ace Attorney, Nintendo series, Sonic the Hedgehog games, (some) sequels to classic movies, and so on.  They’re not the same, but they’re still great for the same reasons the originals were.  I’m glad it worked out that way here, too.

- The Mods

[lemon-allergies]

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

For Gundham, Kiyotaka, and Izuru

Motivation: what turns them on, gets them going.

Unfair: how much they like to tease

Wild card.

“Er..well..I suppose..use the proper term..to get me..aroused in that fashion..I would need a proper build up! Has to be in the right atmosphere! Plenty..of..praise and movements..that sort..!”

“Teasing? It would certainly take a lot to do something like that! I..I would not prefer to be the one to do any sort of teasing! It’s simply not a skill I possess! Unless..my partner wants me to I could try?”

“Well..I definitely wouldn’t say I have a lot..but I do have a few toys..in a drawer. I assure you they do not get in the way of my studies they are only for certain times!!”

“Ha! To get me ready for such pathetic mortal desires..well..addressing my power is a way to do it..though it’s not easy for mere mortals to accomplish!”

“…it depends. The act of a few words can change someone’s nature they show to the outside..it..can certainly be appealing given the right person to be enjoyable.”

“If you must know..I greatly enjoy allowing another universe to take me and my partner over during the act!! No matter how strong the universe takes hold of us!” Aka he likes role play and making universes for it.

“…well I enjoy things that are interesting. Give me an interesting idea for sexual acts..and I’ll take time to do it then. Otherwise…massages are nice..”

“I am aware I don’t seem like the type to tease. But I would like to. I feel as if I could get some interesting expressions out of a partner that way..I’m already curious.”

“Well with all the abilities the academy gave me..I assume I can find a use for them in the bedroom as well. Otherwise, I also like If my partner surprises me..for example if a partner enjoys bottoming and suddenly tops..keeps things interesting.”

[free--therapy]

also could it be that the extremely stressful atmosphere at home is triggering these thoughts again?

i mean I've always been a bit scared of long term holidays because I seem to have developed this "belief" that if I'm home all day for too long (weeks/months) like during vacations, i feel like it'll trigger my anxious thoughts again or something. idk why I think of it like that but since till a year ago, my negative thought patterns mostly always materialized during longer vacations so now I've sort of developed this belief that vacations at home = negative thoughts

and since i have this belief, so whenever vacations come up and I'm home most days, i almost in some way end up dreading it and since i get kinda stressed at the idea of those thoughts coming back, i end up triggering it kinda....and it scares me more in turn. i end up thinking "omg if it comes back what will I do? will it again ruin my motivation to achieve my goals and end up making me feel depressed?" and it makes me anxious because I just wanna be free from those negative thoughts

that said, i can see that I'm the one making it seem more "big" of a problem than it actually is because I keep forgetting that in the end, these are just "thoughts" but i end up making them seem more than that by giving them that power.

so i want to take that power back from those thoughts and continue working on my habits and goals without thinking something like "omg these thoughts will make me stop feeling motivated to do any hobbies" because even thinking like that is just an assumption in the end. instead of thinking "what if I spiral again?" "what if these thoughts get worse?" "what if they make me lose all motivation and inspiration?" etc. if i just continue doing what i was doing without thinking about "what those thoughts can do" then i can take power back from those thoughts probably?

It's possible that your environment at home is making your mind wander to these sorts of thoughts because it seems like your mind has become so used to being in a state of stress or worry that when something you used to worry/stress about is now not a concern, your mind wants to find the next thing. It's weird how it works that way, but I think it's just our mind being in survival mode.

I think you need to find something more positive or fun to fill your time with so that you're not focused on things that are out of your control or are no longer in your control. Anxiety or worry is usually us wanting to control a situation we wish we could, but we know we can't. It's easier to change your mind about a situation than the situation itself…so challenging all of the negative or reoccurring thought patterns can help you to change this cycle and change your mind about these situations that keep coming up to the surface.

You gotta address and challenge these thoughts when they come up though. You can distract yourself as much as you want, but they'll keep coming up unless you start combatting them with a different or more positive perspective about them. If your thought starts with "what if" then it means it's not factual and it's something your mind is trying to make up. A lot of the times our assumptions or jumping to conclusions about situations end up being wrong and also keep us from having things go right. I know it's challenging, but maybe next time try thinking about what could go right instead of wrong ;)