#it is hard to be smart when i am trying to fit into the world your words are making!!!

[bataranqs]

5 Happy Things

May 13, 2024

Been drinking this expensy chocolate milk that this family from my church makes and it's so insanely good and doesn't trigger my lactose intolerance we're winning

Had manga class todayyyyy

Finished last week's overspilling projects for my Shakespeare course!!!

Texted my mom after waking up quite late and she was like "yay I'm glad you slept well <3" hi that's love

Made pasta with spinach and a new pasta sauce! The new sauce is not good but I had it!

[sk3tch404]

Yandere Donnie Darko Hcs

A/n: I finally came around to watching Donnie Darko while I was styling my hair this morning. It was so good and omgg HIS CHARACTER!!! Love it 💜 What he voices in where he rebels against authority resonates with me in the most honest and straight up sense, it's crazy.

CW: Characterizing of psychosis without research (I am in no way claiming this is how individuals who suffer some psychosis or with schizophrenic symptoms act or feel like. This is simply a work of fiction and how I see Donnie's mental state affect the scenario), Donnie is actually very tame here except for his obvious criminal record and acts of violence, and YALL HES A MENTALLY ILL TEENAGE BOY so he's a lowkey soft okay. Y'all see him with Gretchen? So caring and passionate ugh, love him sm. <33 I try to write as close to canon as possible, but sometimes that leads to really soft yans and I kind of doubt my writing. Despite that. I like to think that not all yanderes need to be possessive killing machines in order to fit into the troupe. Everyone's got their own way of dealing with obsession, and so I think I did decently with this one lol.

Proof read a few times, so sorry for wordy/run on sentences and possible wonky grammar.

I feel like Donnie is very observant and patient with his darling. He's quite analytical for a teenage boy which leads him to take time to consider the variables that weigh within your possible relationship.

Donnie is still an awkward kid, so dont be surprised when you accidentally find him staring at you for a considerable period of time in class. In school, he doesn't approach you, seeing as the setting is already suffocating enough. He'd try to catch you after school or when you two have a little bit of privacy.

He's kinda shy and clumsy at first glance--- too talkative in his speech and self-aware of his minor fuck ups. Over time, he'll be more open to what he wants with you. Donnie might not really understand how to handle love and all of its complexities, but hell try really hard to make it work.

Yeah, y'all saw how fast he dived in for that kiss in the film?... Embarrassing, but it's true that he's quite excited to show his affection for you. He'll be "so chill with it," and he is to an extent--- not too clingy at all--- but when he's around he gives you guard dog privileges. Stays at your side and defends you from any brain rotting comments made from the guys around the neighborhood. Donnie isn't much of a fighter, but he's damn well capable of planning and executing a crime if it calls for it. One count of arson, another unaccounted for, severe property damage, and murder? Don't doubt it for one second that he won't consider further acts in the future to come.

His psychosis affects him directly when it comes to you--- as it also does with most things. He already feels so shitty with how things are going in his life, Frank voicing the many thoughts he has about you day to day stresses him further. Sometimes Donnie is scared Frank will convince him to hurt you as the countdown progresses. Despite that fear, he can't keep away from you.

This distress causes Donnie to rebel more often. As he spirals down the rabbit hole Frank keeps digging for him, the anxiety that follows with what will happen to you once the world ends lingers late at night in his bed.

Donnie's main love language is quality time. He walks with you from school and chills with you pretty much wherever. He's pretty book-smart, so he'll pitch in with your projects and homework assignments. His parents don't really seem like they care what he does most of the time, so if he's given the chance, he'll crash at your place for a few before they think he's off sleepwalking or some shit.

Donnie already knows he's slipping off the rails, placebo medication or not, Frank stays to stir the pot. He's almost scared, scared to death that you'll think he's an insane lunatic and he'll scare you off. But at the same time, why be scared if it's the truth? He has evidence, the book, and his own visions. That anxiety doesn't go away when he rambles on about the six-foot-tall bunny rabbit and how that thing has led him to the method of time travel.

You're just left there dumb founded as he stares on at you with that deadpanned look. Too late to back out now. World's ending and you don't got a boyfriend. Well, you got Donnie... and Frank's there too sometimes, but either way, you're all each other's got. You don't want to be alone do you? Donnie knows he doesn't.

He trusts you more than anyone else. Yeah he's on meds, and sure he's loony, but everyone knows that already; not that they seemed to care too much anyway. He feels like he can just exist with you around. All that pent up frustration with the looming guilt of his actions festering inside can be washed out like waves on a cold shore. Of course, it's not a cure-all, but it's damn nice compared to the bone headed friends he got and the tense dinner table back at home.

He has scratch paper in his drawers that are just filled with messy sketches of you. Not sure if he'd be the type to use sketchbooks, but he is pretty organized in his own room. Donnie just finds you so easy and beautiful to draw. Art block has nothing on this boy. He hates it when his sisters barge into his room and see any unfinished piece of you lying around. They tease him so bad about it, he wishes they'd just leave him alone.

"Ooo, is this the girl you're always wasting your time with?"

"No, gimme it. It's none of your business, and get out of my room."

"Geez, fine. Not like that's the freakiest thing you got in here anyway."

Donnie wouldn't be the extreme stalking type, but if he caught a glance of you, he wouldn't be able to look away. He'd also take into account what your daily patterns are as well as your likes and dislikes. He notices your little habits like if you constantly apply too much pressure to your mechanical pencil, making your lead break. He's always have had a passive opinion on the school uniform, but you made it look good, great even. Donnie likes it even more seeing you in street wear. He takes note on your style and even thinks of taking some inspiration from it to feel closer to you.

He's sensitive in places a teenager would be in most. He's irritable and closed off much of the time, even to you if it gets bad enough. Of course, it's not your fault usually. It only makes sense to be defensive in the case of anything he may perceive as a threat, even if that means any possibility of you breaking his heart.

Donnie may be a bit shy in his advances, but what he isn't is hesitant. He's quite bold in his thoughts and feelings. While he is afraid of your judgement in particular, he doesn't mind doing many things in front of you. Your collar is crooked, so let him just fix it up real quick. Talk about something that's got him thinking? He's letting his thoughts pour out like it's happy hour. He sees no issue in doing what he wants to, so if you're feeling unsure or nervous about something, he'll be the one to do it for you. Not many questions asked unless it's got his serious attention.

Kisses are passionate and deep. (Tbh when I first watched the movie I was like, "DAMN dont eat her face- shit.") I dont know if Donnie has had previous experience or not, but he's definitely got the enthusiasm. He tries to match your rhythm if you seem to have trouble following. Not too much tongue, but best believe he's devouring your lips like it's the last 6 hours in the universe. His hands are roaming around your body, feeling the dips and curves so cautiously because Jesus, you're just rocking his fucking world. If you tell him to slow down, he will. Donnie never wants to force you to do anything you wouldn't want to.

Words of affirmation aren't really a thing for him. If he says something to you, it was probably on his mind anyway. If you say "I love you" to him, he'd be almost stunned but wouldn't have a problem reciprocating that energy. He just felt like that connection between you two was already clear enough. No need to say it so directly. Although, it's nice. He really loves and cares for you. Would take a bullet for you--- cross his heart till he dies, all that sappy shit.

If you reject him, let's just say Frank and Donnie will be speaking more often. It pushes him off the edge. Frank isn't in Donnie's head just to do evil shit, but it's not like his presence doesn't perpetuate Donnie's behavior further. He wouldn't go on a killing spree or anything excessively violent like that. He'd be hyper-focused on the time travel aspect of his situation and become more forceful in his methods. He'd demand answers to make sense of all of it. To cope with the fact you didn't want him like how he needed you. Why didn't you like him enough? What didn't he do? Actually, what did he do? His mind feels like its on the brink of breaking as he tries to rationalize all the negativity in his life. He's already done too much, his world feels like it's collapsing in on itself before the actual day could even come. You were a majority of that world, and now it's just broken.

Donnie is so distraught and confused about his adolescent experiences, he almost doesn't know what to do. The only thing to do from then on is to focus on the countdown. Time travel, and how to fix it all. Otherwise, not only would he be left alone, but you would be too. Donnie wouldn't want that for you, not ever. Even with all the pain and frustration stowed away inside his still beating heart, he would never wish to hurt you; one of the only people on Earth who didn't suck so much as everyone else did.

[inbarfink]

Goddam, just seeing Simon in these last two episodes is really flooding me with so many conflicting emotions.

Because, on the one hand, after his lowest point in Episode 4 - resigning himself to death in the hands of the Scarab - he’s clearly finally doing better. Just look at him making plans

And showing off his smarts

And finally genuinely smiling and feeling happy

And being so glad to meet the alt versions of his friends

And getting excited about his nerdy shit for the first time in glob-knows-how-long

And cracking goofy geeky jokes

And offering others the same grace and kindness he was given when he was trapped under the curse of the Magic Crown

And trying to be comforting and fatherly and give Fionna advice and cheer her up

He’s so clearly doing a lot better now, he’s rediscovering aspects of himself that his depression has torn away from him, he found a meaning and purpose in his life again. And it should warm my heart, and on some level it does....

But it also sends a chill down my spine knowing that this purpose that brought back the light into Simon’s eyes, the purpose he finally found is sacrificing his mind and identity again for the sake of Fionna’s happiness and her world.

He’s throwing himself right back into the miserable existence and the trauma he tries so hard to move forward from. He’s dooming himself because he honestly believes now that he’s always going to be miserable and lonely and fucked up so he might as well have be the kind of miserable and fucked up that is not lucid enough to know how miserable he is all of the time. The kind of misery that at least fits into his world.

Because he started to romanticize being the Ice King in a twisted kinda way, and now he has found the excuse to turn it into a selfless, noble act. Because the only way he feels like he’s useful and like he has worth is by protecting and helping and sacrificing himself for the sake of others.

(And like, especially in light of how he was trying to resign himself to death just moments before coming up with his plan. Not to get extremely dark, but.... suicidal people often seem to ‘get better’ just before the try to kill themselves. Because they feel like they’re finally ‘doing something’ and their misery is almost over. That kinda feels what Simon is going through right now? Becoming the Ice King again is not literally death, but it is a sort of death for Simon Petrikov’s identity.)

And this new sense of purpose in saving Fionnaworld by dooming himself is clearly blinding Simon to so many obviously telegraphed signs that this is a horrible idea.

He saw hints of just how badly Farmworld Finn has been dealing with his own Magic Crown Related Trauma

and maybe if things would’ve been different this could’ve been something they could have commiserated over. Simon could’ve had someone who understood a bit of what he has gone through, and seeing a version of Finn, of all people, face similar struggles - maybe could’ve helped him feel a little less Uniquely and Irredeemably Fucked Up. (For bonus points, they're ALSO both dealing with the grief of losing their Significant Other)

But his newfound obsession that Everything Will Be Better Once He’s Cursed again was making him totally ignore all of this.

And then there’s their little adventure in the Winter Kingdom. Which had both the Candy Queen/Princess Bubblegum as a perfect reminder of the suffering and pain involved in being trapped in the Madness of the Magic Crown

And the Winter King as a reminder of the harmful and twisted things he was capable of doing as the Ice King.

But instead he basically refused to learn any lesson from that Universe that’s not just ‘Fuck That Version of Me Specifically’ and tried to advice Fionna to do the same.

But well, while I am still worried about Simon’s mental state, his improved disposition does give me a little bit of hope. Hope that maybe he himself will notice that he is doing better and won’t be quite so eager to sacrifice his own sanity. Or maybe more likely, hope that now that he’s not just a miserable sadman screaming at their faces

Fionna and Cake are growing to appreciate Simon Petrikov for who he is and will simply refuse to let him sacrifice himself for their sake. Because, yeah, Simon tried to tell Fionna to not worry about all of that Winter Kingdom stuff, that it was just that Simon was ‘messed up’ - but since when does Fionna Campbell do what she’s told?

[sushirrrry]

SURPRISE!!!

for those of you who know me, you know that I am a wattpad writer & got my start writing on that platform. I was a story writer first and foremost, only the past few months have I started to write one-shots, mostly for time management purposes.

however, I've been looking through my works, rereading, reminiscing on everything. that leads us here: I'm reworking and reposting celestial, one of my original stories! this time, a tumblr story.

I've wanted to move off of wattpad for a while, start to dip my feet into a different water, so I figured I would start by finishing celestial but being able to give you guys– some of you who haven't read it– an opportunity with these characters too.

celestial is heartbreaking; it's a plot full of unlikable characters. it's immature, its characters learning about one another and who they are. its a cheating plot. but underneath it all, there's a lot of humanity in it. there's love and there's passion and there's characters that I think need to be hated to be loved. it's a story I love writing and I love to reread.

so, if you'll accept me here, on the two year anniversary of Harry's House, chapter one will be shared tonight! I have really appreciated all the love thus far on everything this community has shared. thank you thank you thank you 🤍 read the summary below!

CELESTIAL

cw: graphic sexual content, course language, adult themes, affair plots, mentions of death and suicide, bullying, outing, conversations of sex and gender identity.

Stella met Harry by accident. Well, some may say the stars aligned that day.

After a troublesome semester of classes, Stella Martin, a psychology student, needs help. She's outgoing, but her anxiety is starting to get the better of her; she's in a relationship that is taking too much of her energy, the parties are becoming more like a lifestyle, and she's really starting to wonder if university is even the right place for her.

When she's placed in a required statistics course, she sits next to a student who is passing with flying colors: Harry Styles, a physics student. Harry is very shy, hoping someone doesn't call on him in class, but he's smart beyond compare and Stella can't help but notice.

As they start to sit next to each other in class, Harry is terrified that Stella will see him for who he really is: a huge nerd with an obsession with constellations, the Triangulum Galaxy, and Star Wars. But, Stella is terrified that Harry will see that she is not good enough... in anything, really.

Stella and Harry aren't looking for anything specific, but in a world where we try so hard to fit in, isn't it nice to know that someone is always right there waiting to pull you in?

[frenchoravocadotoast]

Cogito, ergo sum

from Latin "I think, therefore I am"

Basim Ibn Ishaq x GN!reader

Prompt: Basim survives the temple

Warnings: Implied NSFW at the end

Word count: around 4k (big boi)

The cliff is his safe space.

It has been ever since he first arrived at Alamut. You remember meeting the young man he used to be, a clumsy thief with a shy stubble that paled in comparison to the beard he’d grown throughout his training. It made him look wiser, you supposed. And wise he was, for he was educated by none other than the silence of the mountains and the sword of Roshan.

He was a smart man, but going into the temple was not a smart choice at all. Roshan had tried to stop him and failed. She walked out of the temple with a limp, holding her shoulder and her side as her head hung low in shame – defeated by her own student, her son, in a way. She couldn’t bear to look you and the other novices in the eye. 

But that was okay, because you couldn’t look at her either. You couldn’t look away from the mountain that stood tall before you all, the grinning cave that held Basim’s life over your heads.

He wasn’t coming back, Roshan said. You didn’t listen. Didn’t move, didn’t acknowledge the novice who tried to pull you away from the cave. You heard your mentor’s footsteps grow distant as the murmurs of the hidden ones mourned a new loss. You’d almost joined in their whispered prayer when you saw it – a wheezing figure stepping out of the cavern, hand pressed against the rock as they kept their gaze low. You rushed to meet them halfway.

It was him. Basim. The matted jet black hair was hard to miss, along with his beige and blue robes. His brown doe eyes flickered and met yours, but before you could reach him, he put his hand up and yelled at you to stay away. His stance had become defensive, a shaky hand resting on the handle of his sword, as his eyes watched you and your friends with wariness.

You frowned; called out his name and watched as the grip on his sword tightened. Those eyes of his didn’t regard you with the same warmth they used to. They were scared, angry, and untrusting. His lips that would smile so often were pulled down into a snarl and his brows were etched into a scowl. His body, once so sure and confident in his walk, trembled under your gaze. 

Before you could say anything, he ran. He climbed up the cliff with the expertise of a man who had endured years of training, or with the velocity of a lizard who feared for his life. The tails of his robes whipped in the wind when he reached the summit and disappeared from your view.

But he hadn’t run away. He lingered in his trusted spot by the cliffside. Rayhan would watch him from his tent and study his behavior. In the mornings, Basim would sit to meditate. It wouldn’t last long before he’d start to pace, hands in his hair before he’d yell up at the sky, fall to his knees, and throw rocks against the floor. After his fit, he’d try to sit still again, fail, and do it all over again.

When night fell, he’d crawl down the cliffside and rummage through the baskets of food you and the other novices had purposely prepared for him. He avoided you like the plague – whatever had happened inside that temple, whatever he’d seen, had shook him to his core. It was enough to haunt his mind even when one of his old friends attempted a conversation with him during one of his nightly visits, and he’d only granted them a glare. You kept your distance, watching from your seat near the fire, when he looked at you, frowned, and left to return to his cliff again.

It broke your heart. He loved that cliff, he’d found peace there during his troubled past, but now it only seemed to isolate him. But that was the point of meditation, wasn’t it? Keeping the world out, silencing your mind? If it worked for him then, why couldn’t it work now?

He needs time, Rayhan told you one day. You both watched from his tent as Basim had finally settled down after pacing for hours – he sat criss-crossed, hands resting on his lap as he breathed out. He lasted 3 hours like that. You found yourself smiling at the sight.

Maybe meditation did work.

Months go by. Winter greets Alamut with a snowstorm that would put the Gods to shame, but the canyon protects your stalls, tents, and beds from the howling wind above. You think the harsh temperatures will lure Basim down from his lair, but you grow concerned when the snow starts to pelt down on you and there is no sign of him anywhere. The spare pelts and blankets in your tent call out to you, and without thinking it much, you strap them to your back and go look for him.

You find him halfway through your climb. He was smart enough to flee from the icy winds in the mountains, and found shelter in a little panhole on the side of the cliff. He’s setting up his own tent when you call out his name. He turns to face you with a bewildered look, like it’s his first time seeing another human in his life, when you give him the folded blankets and pelts.

“You’re going to need these.”

He takes them from you, eyes flickering over your face, and whispers a soft thank you.

You give him a small smile, because those two words are enough to make your heart soar and jump around – but you don’t want to scare him. You’re about to leave when he says your name.

“How are you still here?”

You shrug.

“I never left.”

He frowns at that, although it’s not the same frown he wore when he first came out of the cave. It’s the kind of frown that tells you he’s thinking, mulling over your words, wanting to believe them. You believe them, because you know the Hidden Ones would never leave him behind like that; and without saying much more, you part ways again.

The snow melts and gives way to the blooming flowers. You’re helping Rebekah fix the handle of a sword when someone taps your shoulder – Basim stands behind you, giving you a quick smile that barely peeks out of his blue scarf. It disappears just as quick as it comes, but it leaves you breathless nonetheless.

He asks about Rayhan’s whereabouts, and you can only point him in the right direction as words fail you. It’s the first time you see him talking to others of his own volition; and when he leaves after voicing his gratitude, you turn to look at your blacksmith friend. She’s looking at you slack-jawed.

Basim starts coming down more often since then. Just a month ago, he’d joined you by the campfire while Nur told a story. You’d patted the empty seat next to you, and when his lips stretched into his usual warm smile, your heart squeezed.

You’d missed him.

Speaking of Nur, you saw him talking to Basim on the cliff just this morning. They were rekindling their friendship as Nur showed him the tapestry he’d been working on all winter. If he’d gone up there unannounced, maybe you could try talking to Basim too, right?

That’s exactly what you do. I’m in control of the story.

He’s sitting close to the edge, looking at the setting sun, when you stop behind him. He spares you a glance, as if he’d been expecting you, before patting the empty spot next to him, just like you had done with him. You carefully sit down when he speaks.

“It looks beautiful from here, does it not?”

You hum and nod. “I  can see why you like it so much.”

“It is very freeing to experience life from these heights. Down there, we’re so small.”

Your lips stretch into a smile – he’s starting to sound like himself again, with his wise and philosophical words. It itches at the thorn that’s been stuck in your heart since he grew distant from you all, and you find your words leaving you before you can register them.

“I missed you.”

His expression falters at that, and a saddened tint floods his gaze.

“I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I was not myself when I left that cave.” he whispers, grimacing. “I was never myself, it seems.”

You stretch your legs out, nudging his boot with yours. He smiles wryly at your attempt to comfort him.

“What makes you think that?”

“What was revealed to me at the temple…” he gestures with his hand, but no words come out, and he promptly drops it. “My life was not meant for me to live.”

“I do not understand.”

“You must think me mad. Even now, I do not quite believe it myself.” he scoffs, eyes glazing over. “I was just a vessel, a fool fighting against nature.”

There is not much you can do for him, you think. Not much you can understand, either. Until Basim doesn’t fully capture what troubles his mind, you doubt you’ll be able to get through his defenses. But with him, it’s different. Basim sows and reaps, builds and destroys – the walls he’s built around himself stand tall before you, but they’re no match for him. They’re like overgrown weeds he needs to pull out. In his novice years, he used to speak of the power and danger of one’s own mind; and he seemed to be heeding his advice even after all this time, for he continued to speak despite your silence.

“There was this… machinery inside the temple. Nehal told me to open it, and when I did–” he swallows. “It was pain after pain, memories that threatened to claim me, fears that broke my very soul. And then, when I was begging for it all to end, praying to be let out– Nehal wasn’t there anymore.”

You frown. “Your friend?” he nods in response.

“She was never there.”

“She was gone?”

“She wasn’t real.”

He rakes his hand through his hair as he hisses through his teeth, like the revelation itself burdens his heart soul. You watch in awe at the raw display of emotions as he frowns and his hoarse voice speaks up once more.

“I lived a lie. It was all my fault. I killed the Caliph, I dug my own grave, led myself into the very trap fate had woven for me.” 

A tentative hand rests on his forearm, and you squeeze to break him out of his trance. Basim turns to look at you, bearing the look of a man drowning in despair and needing it all without knowing what he yearns for. 

“And yet, you live.” you whisper.

He sighs in return. “I live.”

“I understand why you were so defensive when you left the cave.”

He shakes his head, looking at the setting sun that paints the sky in a purple hue.

“I thought I was imagining you all. Sometimes, I fear I still do.” he looks at you, frowning. “If I believed Nehal was real my entire life, what was stopping me from believing you were real, too?”

“I don’t recall ever meeting your friend.” you think out loud. “Did she ever interact with anyone other than you?”

“She was a very private person.” he speaks like he misses her. “Nehal didn’t like meeting new people.”

You give him a sad smile. Even in the face of reality, it’s hard letting go of a beautiful lie.

“But you see us talking to other people. I talk to you, but also to Fuladh, or the merchants in Baghdad. They’re real - and I’m real too.”

“For the longest time, I thought maybe I was imagining it all. That you were all a fragment of my imagination.” he shakes his head. “I failed to see the line that separated reality from fiction. When I was in that temple, I thought my entire life was a lie. I was trapped in a void, but then I saw this light - and I ran and ran, thinking I could escape from it all.”

Basim is ranting now as the words come more naturally to him. His gestures become more frantic as he turns to look at you, eyes wide like the day you saw him stumble out of the cave.

“But then I saw you, and I thought I was still trapped. Eventually with time, I came to think you would all disappear.” he stops, and his gaze softens. “And yet, you’re still here.”

You whisper. “I’m here.”

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he nods and looks at the horizon again. The sky is dark by now, and you smile at the memory of Basim teaching you and your friends about astronomy. He’d learnt it all when he taught himself to read in the House of Wisdom, but unlike the scholars that demanded an audience to witness their greatness, Basim taught for the pleasure of teaching. Whatever he’d read during his time in Baghdad or witnessed in his past lives had definitely made him wiser beyond his years. If there is a God, he’s been generous with Basim – all that knowledge has fallen into the right hands.

But his usual passion for the stars is dormant now. You glance at him, taking note of his silence as he resumes his meditation, and take that as your sign to give him some space again. You’re sitting up when you feel his hand grasping your forearm, but when you look at him again, he doesn’t react. But the hand doesn’t relent either, and so, you decide to settle down again.

It’s quiet between you, and it makes his whispered words so much louder. They’re a promise of a better future.

I missed you, too.

Summer comes and goes, and trees start to shed their yellowed cloaks again when Basim decides to move out of the cliff. It’s a misty morning, courtesy of the rainy weather in autumn, when you see him walking down the slope towards your tent. He’s carrying his rolled-up mattress and tent with him, sparing you a smile when you approach him with a big grin of your own. Perhaps your excitement is a bit too palpable, because his brows raise in amusement when you ask to help him carry his things – but you’re too distracted to notice, ranting about an oh-so convenient spot right next to your tent, and he promptly follows after you.

But the muddy slope demands a sacrifice, and your foot slips in front of you. Years of training abandon you as you reach for the slippery boulder next to you, but you miss once more. A hand holds you by your cloak, but it’s too late, you’re falling forward and hoping the mattress in your arms will break your fall, and then – the mattress grunts?

You look up, feeling the familiar fabric of robes under your cheek. Basim has taken the brunt of the fall, cupping the back of your head with his hand as his other arm wraps around you. It’s almost comical when you both look at each other, slowly sliding down the last inches of the slope as your robes get caked with mud. And then, he laughs.

It’s a low chuckle, but it makes his chest shake nonetheless – you can feel it reverberating beneath you, and you find yourself grinning at the sound. You’re sure it’s the first time you’ve heard it in over a year.

So much for a Hidden One, he says. You huff in response, shifting in his embrace when you feel the hoop of your belt digging into you, but not leaning too far away from him either.

His eyes are lidded now, and his smile has softened. You can’t look away. Basim’s hand reaches up and his thumb brushes the corner of your brow, removing dirt from your face, you assume – but all he manages to do is smear it even more.

You don’t really care about the mud, anyway. Something has changed between you two, and you’re sure he can feel it, too. It’s obvious in the way he refuses to let go of you, the way he looks at you. You tell yourself that the mud is heavy on your back, that it weighs you down and pulls you closer to him – and he doesn’t resist it either, especially not when his lips barely brush against yours. You’re about to press closer when Rebekah’s voice speaks behind you two.

“Is the floor comfortable?”

Winter is relentless once more. You’ve all hitched your tents closer to one another to preserve warmth, even knitted some more scarves to protect yourselves from the chilling bite of the wind. The bonfire is bigger than ever, it could easily give your location away to your enemies, but only fools would venture all the way to Alamut during wintertime and expect to survive – both the weather and a clan of trained assassins. 

You’re more than safe, both from outsiders and the elements. Your hidden blade is always strapped to your forearm, and as for the elements? There 's Basim.

He makes sure to save you a spot by the fire, and has a woolen blanket for those particularly colder nights. Sometimes, when he’s feeling extra nice, he offers you a cup of tea, too.

His tent is right next to yours and you always catch him reading a book late at night or early in the morning, swaddled under the bundle of blankets. He can always tell someone is watching him, and when he makes eye contact with you, he never fails to give you a wink.

It’s an ongoing thing. You really don’t know what’s happening – but you get your answers soon enough.

The fire that keeps Alamut warm needs to be fed, and Rayhan refuses to have people venturing out into the snowstorm alone to collect firewood. Thus, he sends you in pairs, for two people can look out for each other and carry more wood back to the tents. 

You’re used to the ruthless weather in Alamut – sandstorms are no match for you, nor the heaviest of rains. But there is something about snow that weakens and tires your body without even trying. You’re shoving the wood into your robes and arms before the cold catches up to you, but your movements become slower with each second, and Basim notices. He grabs your bicep and raises his voice over the hissing gale, signaling that it’s time to go back.

You don’t remember how much time you’ve spent outside, but when you return to the shelter, your damp robes are weighing down on you. The cold has seeped in, stiffening your limbs, and you promptly drop the wood close to the fire to dry for tomorrow.

The warmth in your tent has never been so inviting. The small torch lit by your mattress is the only source of light, bathing the space in a dim orange hue as you change out of your robes and put on some dry ones. It’s still cold, and the goosebumps on your skin make you hiss when the sensation of a hundred needles pricks your skin.

Someone clears their throat outside your tent before the tent flap is lifted – Basim is standing there, now wearing dry robes too. He smiles at you when you greet him and he nods at your damp clothes.

“I put mine by the fire to dry. Do you want to give me yours?”

You nod and he leaves with your robes in hand, but returns soon after with a bronze cauldron in hand and a towel on his shoulder. You eye him, confused, and it’s only when he sets it down before you that you notice the steam coming from the water inside.

“Nur thought we could use it to get warm.” he explains as he sits down next to you. He grabs the towel and dips it into the cauldron before wringing it out, getting rid of the excess water. 

“That’s nice of him.” you smile.

“It certainly is.”

He holds the damp towel out to you, but you frown.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You don’t have a towel?”

He huffs out a laugh at that, shrugging.

“He only gave me one. You take it.”

“No, no – you take it, Basim.”

“I have not come here to argue with you.” he whispers, and presses the towel closer. “Besides, you need to get warm more than I do. You seemed to be struggling out there.”

He 's right. The needles on your skin dig deeper when the hot steam dances before your eyes, so close yet so far away. You’re about to take the towel from him when you feel a soft warmth blooming on your temple.

Basim gently presses the towel onto your skin, eyeing your locks, now damp from the melted snow. Your body immediately reacts to the touch – the needles ease, your fingertips tingle, and against your better judgment, you lean into his touch. 

The cotton moves down your face, where Basim softly caresses your cold cheeks. Warm droplets roll down, but they soothe and feed the bumps on your skin, like flowers craving water after a dry summer day.

This isn’t something that the other paired novices did for each other when they went out looking for wood. 

But Basim isn't like the others, is he? He stands out from them in the way he thinks, speaks, cares for others, looks at you, touches you. 

The heat from the towel tickles your skin, or perhaps it’s your own cheeks burning at the revelation. He moves down to carefully rub the silky cotton around your neck, easing the cold that has nestled there and weakened your voice. His body leans slightly closer to gain better access, and his other hand rests on your knee for support. Without thinking it twice, you nestle his hand between yours.

It’s cold, much colder than you expected, but you feel it relax in your hold when your fingers intertwine with his. He continues to bathe your skin with the warm towel, eyes following every motion as your gaze is trained in your conjoined hands. It’s been minutes now, and you can’t feel him warming up yet, but your body is burning under his touch and attention. Your mind is foggy, your tongue loose, and your words tumble out before you can stop them.

“You should get warm, too.”

The towel pauses, but then you hear him hum. His eyes are on you now, lidded, you notice – and they slowly trail down the peak of your nose, down the cupid’s bow, all the way to your lips. They remain fixed there, fluttering when he notices you lean closer, and he whispers back.

“Maybe I should.”

Your lips brush against each other, just like that day at the muddy slope. But there is no one around to interrupt the two of you, no storm to keep you apart; and with a shaky exhale, Basim’s lips lock with yours.

He is a patient man by nature, but this kiss – it cries of overdue affection. You’re kissing like this is the only thing that can satiate your hunger, a hunger beyond the carnal dimension. It’s the kind of need that has been boiling up to this point for months, years, even – long before he’d stepped foot in that cave. It was always there, dormant.

The towel drops to the ground with a thump. His hands find your hips and cup your cheek as your breathing quickens, and he only spares you a second to breathe before he starts to pepper kisses along your jaw. Your hands find his scalp and you gently massage it with your nails, making him groan against your skin; and when his hand sneaks under your blouse, you smile at the warmth his touch now radiates.

The next time he kisses you, he tastes like glass. Like there are broken shards that cut his tongue and make his words bleed while he sings you praises. The illusion is broken, the mirror destroyed; for his touch is real, he is real, and so are you, and so are the kisses that you keep stealing from each other.

Your arms wrap together and bring you closer to each other as he pushes you back against your mattress. The cauldron is long forgotten, the warm water no longer needed as you both breathe the same hot air and look at each other like you’re drunk on wine. Soon, your clothes come off, strewn somewhere on the floor. You lose yourself in the embrace of love, lips swollen and unrelenting; and in the privacy of a flimsy tent, you and Basim become whole again.

[mxtxfanatic]

... Warning, rant in coming. Sorry.

Hot take, the only morally gray character in mess, that fits the exact definition of it, is Nie Huaisang.

I've seen more and more people trying to tone down Jiang Cheng's terribleness by saying that he's morally gray. I'very also seen those same people say that Wei Wuxian is morally gray because he did terrible things for good (and, no, lmao, he didn't. Most of those come from people not understanding how his cultivation works.) and that that was why he is so interesting. (Again, lmao. Lol even. Just say you don't appreciate depths and confuse "kind" with "boring", so you gotta give every character that you don't find boring a label to justify why you like them.)

I think the term "morally gray" has become a buzz word thrown around for any kind of character that isn't one dimensionally good or evil.

Jiang Cheng isn't morally gray. He is a bad person. Again, a PERSON. Not a monster, not some sort of creatures that has no concept of humanity, just. A bad person.

Society's habit of separating people that do bad things from themselves, that "us vs them" mantality, that dehumanization of bad people, it just leave a bad taste in my mouth. Even fucking serial killers have qualities, can be smart or charismatic or empathetic. Even pedophiles have hobbies and people that love them. Even rapists have people that they love and respect.

Being a terrible person doesn't mean that they're not human. There is no one in the world that has absolutely no redeeming qualities to them. But because of that separation that so many people take for the truth, because of that "they did this because they're a monster, but I'm not so I would never do this", people just cannot accept when a bad person isn't bad all the time.

They'll look at Jiang Cheng that, ultimately, loves his family and is arguably hard working, and they'll think that that means he's "morally gray", because he possesses good qualities, completely ignoring the fact that he's just a trash human being in general.

Low key, it pisses me off. Especially the people that relate so hard to him, and ask me if I wouldn't do the same in his shoes. Because no. I fucking wouldn't cause genocide. I wouldn't torture and kill complete strangers because they dared to have a surname I don't like or because they make me think of someone I resent from my past.

Like, I took can see myself in him, totally. He IS well written, and between the cartoonishly bad Xue Yang and the paragons of moral virtue that is Wangxian, he's definitely the one that feels closest to an everyday man, in personality if you ignore all the murders. I am petty, I hold grudges, I can be entitled and selfish, I am overall a massive rude cunt, but I do not want to hurt people and everyday I strive to be better than the last, even in infinitesimal ways. As should anyone. But that is something that Jiang Cheng doesn't even acknowledge, stuck as he is in his victim mentality and inferiority complex.

But Jiang Cheng is morally bankrupt. He is not morally gray. Not even dark gray. As an adult, he is painstakingly human and in general, a bad person.

And that is OK.

To make him a better person, you don't have to change his entire character with half assed head canons, just make him acknowledge his flaws and let him (finally) grow as a person, past that stubborn mentality he has had for decades.

He IS a bad person, but even bad people have a capacity for growth and change, of the moment they allow themselves to. If he ever gets forgiven for his past actions, that's on the people he has hurt, not that it should even be considered in his journey towards growth.

(Frankly, I don't think he would be. I think he shouldn't be, but that's not for me to decide. However, I can definitely JC finally making some tiny progresses but for all the wrong reasons, and get insulted when, if he ever even get to that point, his apologies don't end up fixing everything. He is totally the kind of person that would see you being mad at them and feel like he's the one being victimized because you didn't accept his half assed apologies. The emotional maturity on this man is below -100.)

(Also, Wei Wuxian isn't morally gray in the total opposite, in that he is such a good person, be it morally or emotionally, just. God, I envy his mental fortitude and his capacity for forgiveness and love.)

Sorry again for the ask, just had to rant somewhere about this and I am kind of curious about how you consider the "morally gray" argument. I think it's total bullshit, if the entire post didn't tell you, but yeah, I'm curious.

I hope I was coherent enough, I did not plan this ask at all, it was all streams of consciousness.

So before I get to the actual material of your rant—of which I agree with—I want to go on a tangent. Bad people as a category are not “dehumanized.” Dehumanization is the act of stripping someone or a group of people of their humanity as a tool of oppression, and it must come with material consequences. Saying that a continent of people are only capable of non-human animal intelligence to justify centuries of enslavement is dehumanization. Saying that a country of people are born terrorists to justify flattening their homeland and claiming it by a different name is dehumanization. Claiming that the man who called you out on your desires to be the new oppressors is a literal demon wanting to destroy your heritage in order to justify leading an army to kill him and his charges while attempting to remove their ability to reincarnate is dehumanization. Calling a child abuser a monster is not dehumanization. It is just an insult.

In fact, the “human traits” of terrible human beings do not need to be defended, because more often than not the absolute worst human beings are materially protected from the consequences of their actions by people who want to defend their “humanity.” In mdzs, I don’t give two fucks about Jiang Cheng’s one “human” trait of loving his nephew, because his “inhumane” traits of abusing said nephew and everyone else in his life intentionally overshadow that by his own design. Jiang Yanli loved her son just as much and lost much more than Jiang Cheng ever did, but she didn’t become an unrepentant monster. Humans are not “monsters-in-waiting” whereby we must act as if every individual is always one step away from committing unspeakable acts of depravity. If that was the case, we would not have survived as a community-dependent social species. Therefore, I do not find Jiang Cheng as the most relatable character ever because I do not find the way that he gives into anti-human behaviors to be relatable to me on a personal level or to be representative of most people’s actions throughout the course of their lives. To feel pain is human, and to have outbursts about it is understandable. To abuse about it? To murder about it? To mass murder about it??? Absolutely anti-human, anti-community, and the type of behavior that can only survive and thrive in an environment that privileges people with those specific “inhumane” traits above everyone else. (One might even call it the environment of a corrupt hierarchy of power that mdzs critiques.) The exact opposite of dehumanization. So if I choose to call Jiang Cheng a monster, it is to intentionally point out the ways that his conscious actions as a character in this story are a negation of human life and community.

On that note, I’ve discussed how this fandom uses “morally gray” in this ask (excuse the fact that I switch between “grey” and “gray” lmao). To bring back a point from my rant from above, Jiang Cheng has his one (1) good trait leveraged by fandom to whitewash his crimes under the guise of “morally gray,” while Wei Wuxian is the one actually being dehumanized by that same label as people use it to justify his literal murder (and those of the Wen remnants) in the story, so that’s my feelings on that. Whether Jiang Cheng can be redeemed or not, I frankly do not care to speculate because the story concludes his character arc at him regressing back into Jiang “hunter of Wen” Cheng, still rich, still single, and still only loved by his nephew. At the end of the day, he is not a real person and I’m only here for wangxian.

[birdiescanfly]

Jake Seresin: Self-Esteem

I've been thinking about Hangman lately, and I can't get the thought of him as being a bit insecure and traumatized by his childhood out of my head. So obviously I need to flesh it out more, but I’m thinking Jake grew up poor. In my experience, this can lead to a very disorderly life which is why he likes to keep things so perfect and clean (His styled hair, his crisp uniform). Being dirty all the time as a kid, living in a dirty place, or even just not having nice clothes is something that like really effects Jake and that’s why he tries so hard to present himself in a certain way. Not only that, but growing up being called trashy and dumb kind gives you a complex so I think Jake would likely push for a different view of himself, even if its asshole perfectionist. Thus the creation of ‘Hangman.’ People see him as uppity and/or finicky, a clean freak, and a loner who only thinks of himself but like, it all comes from a desire to NOT feel like he did as a child. To prove himself.

I imagine him growing up Deep South, Bible belt all the way. A trailer park kind of life. I think that the reason he leans so far away from his old life is because he got a lot of backlash during his academy days maybe?  His commanding officers and peers probably had preconceived notions about him, especially if his parents were laborers with no higher education. (Neither of my parents graduated high school, and you wouldn’t believe how many professors I’ve had that find out I’m a first generation college student, and immediately treat my like an idiot.) I think, for Jake, it would be made even worse if he had a really thick accent. Maybe Jake even tries to hide some of natural drawl and slang. I often see him proud of his accent in stories, but I bet that during those first academy years, he just wanted to fit in. He wanted to prove that he belonged with people outside of the hicks he grew up around. (Up for interpretation, maybe he adored his family but he leans away from them to distance himself from that life cause he doesn’t feel like he fits in anymore, or maybe his parents were shit stains, up to you), but nonetheless, there is a divide between Jake and them now. It’s a very much “you chose them” mentality. Makes him feel in between worlds and that he’s always trying to prove that he belongs to his two spheres of life.

So yeah, Jake hides his accent because people think he’s dumb when he uses southern phrases or slides words together. So Jake hates dirt and disorganization, and he cleans and clean and cleans, he takes two showers a day and maybe even still feels a little filthy.  Maybe he still feels like he’s not smart enough, or good enough. And yeah, Jake grew up trailer trash, he’s got to prove himself a little more, he’s got to push a little harder than everyone else.  He’s got to be number one, or he’s nothing, right?  But he’s got Hangman for that.  Hangman can be number one, he can be the perfect pilot and he can be clean, and he can prove that he’s worth more than anyone ever thought.

I am in fact projecting, but what are comfort characters for, right? And also, I just love reading about everyone’s theories about why Jake is such a loner who leaves people behind, and I adore even more the stories that dive into Jake’s self-esteem issues and childhood.

I’ve got more to this idea, (Hangster all the way), but this is too long as it is so I’ll just make another post.

[2amcheese]

I am queer.

Whatever your associations with the word, I am it. I was queer when the little boys called Mary queer at the beginning of The Secret Garden, in that old fashioned way that meant strange, I was queer when I found out the modern definition, I’ve been queer and queer and queer for years and years and years. 

I’m a trans guy. I don’t think I’m a trans man, or a trans boy. I can’t find those words in me, a concrete definition of what a male should be. I’m a trans dude. A trans guy. A concept of casual masculinity that I dress myself in for comfort. I’m tired of labels.

My mom always complains about kids and their labels. I think some labels are fine, when you shed them like a dress when it no longer fits. I don’t like labels that choke you out and force you into their boxes, which are always just too small to be comfortable but not too bad to leave. I think some labels are an abusive relationship. That’s why I’m not a trans boy. Too many expectations to fulfill the role of “boy,” I tried it once and I can’t fit into the box, even though I tried. I tried so hard.

When I look for queers on the internet they’re often separated by label. LESBIAN SPACE. GAY MEN ONLY. WLW DNI. I feel like a floater, hopping from planet to planet, like I was born out of an asteroid in the queer galaxy, never really belonging anywhere. I belong in the galaxy, I can feel that in my bones (which come from stardust) but a planet, a label, eludes me.

I am bisexual, but only in the loosest sense of the word. I don’t know if I find anyone sexually attractive but people of any genders can look good to me. My first crush was a boy and now I’m dating a girl and I don’t know if I have a preference. There are very few bi spaces and even fewer I feel I belong in--I am fundamentally not a bi girl, but have no experience with being a bi boy and all the stigma that comes with being a homo- or bi-sexual male. I feel disconnected from the concept of gender, discovering myself by avoiding feeling bad instead of seeking feeling good. 

My head is complicated. There is anxiety in there and the burden of being labeled as “the smart kid” in first grade. There’s so much in my head I can’t think straight--though my girlfriend likes to say that I can’t do anything straight. I know who I am but not what I am or how to fit in in our dimorphic world. I feel like I’m blindly feeling around for something, trying to map out a path to me by feeling the spikes and cutting my hands and going the other way. That’s less of a metaphor than I wish it was. 

I have found acceptance but not belonging. I have support but no concrete identity. The world wants so badly to categorize me so it can understand me and I don’t know how to explain that I am just me. The thing that is me is not any of these other things you wish it was. I guess my journey is less about finding a label that works, and more about learning to live label-less. I need to learn how to identify as me instead of whatever label they wrap around my neck. For now I think I’ll stick with queer. To quote The Greatest Showman; “I am brave, I am bruised, this is who I’m meant to be. This is me.” 

This is me. Queer. 

[incleoseyes]

Words Hurt!

For the longest time I have been told that what people say about you shouldn't matter and yeah it shouldn't matter.

It does matter though especially when those words lead to someone being hurt.

Words can do irreversible damage.

But what happens when the hurtful words said were spoken at the most vulnerable time in your life. What happens when those words are spoken to a pre-teen trying to find their place in the world?

It's hard enough already trying to fit in but when your peers, the people you seek validation from, begin to point out all your flaws it becomes a whole different story. Well in this case words do matter!

The things said to someone at their lowest and most vulnerable will stick with them for who knows how long. The teenage girl starting puberty you call ugly or too unattractive to be liked by a boy or whoever it is they like will forever remember those words.

HARMFUL WORDS STICK WITH PEOPLE!

Your entire self-concept can be damaged and altered for a long time just because someone made one comment that they thought meant absolutely nothing!

YOU ARE TOO TALL! YOUR NOSE IS TOO BIG! YOU ARE JUST OVERALL UNATTRACTIVE

You aren't attractive enough to be given a sideways glance but somehow even being considered attractive can be such a hard thing.

You may think these words mean nothing when spoken but it means a lot to the person receiving these words.

Why is it that people who are unattractive are too ugly to be treated like a human and someone who is attractive is also unvalidated?

'They are too attractive to have any problems going on in life' and comments like this makes them feel unvalidated, like they aren't even human nor worth the validation.

In that case I'll say it we are human perfect doesn't exist!!

Words carry weight! In a world where being unkind is so prominent please always choose to be kind!

As someone who was considered unattractive by my own peers and sometimes made to feel awful about my weight and appearance by friends and family that shit stays with you. I am 19 almost 20 still struggling with self-acceptance and self-love because of comments made when I was 12 about my appearance.

With that I will always choose self love and acceptance. Grow my darling leave the past behind and be someone YOU are proud of! Validate your own feelings because no one can help you other than yourself.

Don't stay trapped in that bubble of insecurity, love. It'll only ruin you. You are beautiful, smart, kind and sooo much more than what the rest of the world thinks. Life begins when you choose to take charge of your own and put yourself, your needs and happiness first.

There's no room for self-hatred or self-sabotage in your life.

If I could go back in time and tell you how beautiful and worthy you are I would because you deserve it more than you know.

Love yourself more than anything, there's only one you.

All my love

-Cleo

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.153 Another one

It's 3 a.m., and I'm jolted out of that good good sleep because Desiree is screaming like she's trying to raise the dead or something. I jolt up, disoriented and dazed, and dash to the nursery to see what she needs, but when I get there, I see that she is flat out pissed. Of course, I don't like that she is unhappy, but her little down-turned eyebrows and poked out lip make me laugh. She looks like I owe her money or something, heh. Infant life is so hard. Your caretakers are asleep when you're awake, you can't do anything for yourself, and to top it off, there's no one to hold you at night. That's what she's really mad about because as soon as I pick her up, everything is peachy. She's getting so smart and figured out how to game the system and bend it to her will. When she screams, I come running and pick her up. Fortunately for her, I love holding her. At some point, however, she's going to have to learn she can't be in our arms 24/7.

She's so beautiful and looks more and more like Sophia every day. And she's strong too. I think it's time to get her mobile, or at least sitting up on her own. Then we can feed her in the highchair and start exploring different foods. As fun as that adventure sounds, I also kinda want her to stop growing for a little while. Tami, Dub's daughter, is a toddler already, and it feels like she was just born a few days ago. They grow up too fast, and before we know it, they'll be in high school making googly eyes at boys.

I tried to put her back in the crib a few times, but she had a fit at every attempt. It was just after dawn when she was sleepy enough to accept I know best. I need a nap too, but there's no use in trying to go back to sleep now. The sun is rising, so I grab Rosie and go for a jog. Fresh air and an increased heart rate will wake me right up. It's been a minute since we've done this, and she is stoked. My knees, on the other hand, are not. (sigh)

When I get to Dad's house, I want to stop in and say hello even though I know he's not there. It's so weird seeing it there, waiting for me to do something with it. I know grief is a process, and eventually I'll get to a place where seeing it brings back happy memories instead of reminders that he is no longer with us, but I want to be there now.

It's funny how being a parent changes how I look at the world. Things I've ignored for years suddenly become relevant. Like, I just realized there's a park behind his house. I probably saw it many times and forgot about it because it had nothing to do with me. But today, I feel like I'm seeing it for the first time and am glad Desi won't have to go too far to meet other kids and stretch her imaginative wings. At least I hope there are other children in this neighborhood. All the ones I knew are all grown up now. Regardless, there are plenty of places in this city where we can take her to socialize.

Just as I headed back home, Mama called to tell me Dwayne had passed away. I give her my condolences and tell her we'll be around as soon as Sophia wakes up. This is just not our family's week. Mama lost both her loves pretty much at the same time, and despite my feelings about that situation, it can't be easy for her to deal with, and I feel for her. But what alarms me the most is knowing her time is even shorter than I thought, and I don't know how to reconcile that.

[elenauaurs]

“As members of a society that pursues peace, harmony is strictly necessary. Please try to see it this way: Just as a contract is only made with mutual consonance, Those who lack the ability—or rather the brilliance—to maintain their usefulness and cooperation are not befitting in this society... And my role, you ask? To reshape them all until they fit”

A mysterious figure among the IPC Strategic Investment Department, responsible for the role of disciplining their fellow co-workers and representing Diamond.

Bort can be described as an cunning individual and extreme perfectionist, although ironically they committed several rule breaks for the sake of showing their worth. They are straight-forward about their goals and ideals, believing that people who have no contribution to society have no place in it. Surprisingly, they have some empathy for these people and wish to help.

In the IPC, Bort is not considered a being of his own with freedom and rights, but rather as an extension of Diamond's power—That said, despite being part of the IPC, they are not exactly one of the ten stonehearts and occupy some of the roles of Diamond.

(Click on the image for better quality)

When Diamond decided to remove all his impurities and imperfections in the form of a shining meteor, a being made of stone was created from the collision of that meteor against the ground.

Bort is a strict person, known for always keeping a somewhat dull smile on their face and correcting their department's mistakes. They are normally reserved, however a person with great aptitude in social matters. Despite being considered obedient and intellectual by their peers, Bort actually has a hard time understanding their own feelings and negligence them, preferring to follow orders than worry about this silly things.

Before being completely under Diamond's command, Bort was responsible for missions on very dangerous planets and ended up developing an obsession with battles and now is very angry at not being able fight as much as they did in the past.

"They are extremely smart and pleasant to talk to, but it is a dangerous trait... They always preferred satisfying their intellectual curiosity, over using his skills for the benefit of others"

- Unknown Senior Manager

. . .

VOICELINES

First meeting

"Bort" of the illustrious IPC's Strategic Investment Department— or, as those closest to me refer to me, Ballas—is at your service. To whom do I owe the honor, my dear nameless companion?

Greeting

Straighten your posture, lift your head and leave behind any trace of laziness before greeting someone. Never underestimate the importance of body language—as a Trailblazer, you will certainly need it.

Parting

In a formal meeting, time is meticulously measured, from hours to milliseconds. I usually don't mind it... However, I'm your presence i feel like time is… too fast. Sigh… What a pity.

About Self: True Desire

What do I truly desire? Uh, well... that's rather a silly question. Anything that Diamond wants too. If he's happy, i'll be more than satisfied. :)

About Self: Old Self

I no longer recall what I was like, but that's only natural. If i expect a lot from others, I must hold myself to the same stantard, even if it means sacrificing who I truly am.

Chat: Food

I have often heard about the benefits of food, not only for bodily functioning but also for overall well-being. Personally, I have never savored the pleasure of eating, and in my form it's unlikely that I ever will... So, I kindly ask you to accept this money and buy some food. Even though I won't enjoy it with you, I'll feel happier seeing you healthier.

Hobbies

Even though I don't need it, I take great pleasure in sleeping. It makes all the worries of the world disappear for a brief and comfortable moment

Annoyances

The intense feeling of failure, especially when others have high expectations of you, can be incredibly... infuriating. I feel powerful under the pressure they put on me, but I can't help but feel an inexplicable pain in my chest...

. . .

Ok, it ended up being a bit big because I ended up getting excited hshqhdhwhdha

There are still many things left to say about them, such as their backstory and their relationship with other people like Aventurine, Topaz, etc... But that's for another post

I ended up changing a few things slightly from the little intro I made previously so... Here are some curiosities

They are genderless

They can't eat, drink, have no organs but can sleep for lore reasons

Sometimes they give off a weird vibe to others so no one messes with them

They are dependent on Diamond

They like fish and stars!

(and also, the phrase I left below the cut comes from houseki no kuni)

[heliads]

hi

can i request a lydia martin x female reader? y/n is new in town and ends up getting along with the pack. she's a lot like lydia, genius smart, loves fashion, really girly, the major difference is that she's quiet and kinda shy, so everyone expects the two of them to become friends, but lydia really dislikes her and feels like she's being replaced by her. enemies to lovers, you know?

hope you like it and feel comfortable writing <3

reader: excuse me, i am smart, i am gay, i have the ability to make you jealous, i'm ~new in town~

masterlist

You are finding it hard to believe in the power of a fresh start. Everyone phrased it that way when it was first announced that you would be completely wrecking your old life to move to a town in the middle of Nowheresville, California, but you saw through it from the start. This would not be a wonderful chance to reinvent yourself, nor a blessed opportunity for trying again. This would be awful, and nothing about Beacon Hills could change that.

You already did your time of starting from scratch in a classroom you didn’t recognize back home. Home is not Beacon Hills, home is where you were born, where people knew you from kindergarten through your teenage years. Beacon Hills only has claim to you for the few years you have left in high school, and after that, you’re moving back to your hometown. So you’ve promised yourself, at least.

However, Beacon Hills doesn’t like it when its pawns and pieces get minds of their own. The only way people leave this town is through death, either theirs or that of someone they love. You don’t know that now, but you’ll learn it soon enough. It’s a lesson of inevitability for anyone daring enough to live in a supernatural hot spot even half the strength of this godforsaken town.

Death has not darkened your doorstep, however, and you go to your first day of school with only the apprehension of wondering if you’ll find enough friends to make this town worth your while. The students seem pretty friendly when they’re not judging you behind three ring binders or over locker doors, but what else is new? Beacon Hills High School is still a high school, and that means it can only be so great when you’re not one of its usual crew.

It’s a good thing, then, that you managed to stumble upon people who would embrace you with open arms. You met Scott McCall first when both of you were paired together for a chemistry lab, then Stiles second in a math class. After that, it was almost inevitable that you would join the rest of their group, their pack. If you can win over Scott and Stiles, you’re guaranteed to fit right in.

It’s nice being with the McCall crew. They watch each other’s backs, they stand up for themselves, anything you could want in a friend group. It takes them a while to trust you long enough to share exactly why that is, but even afterwards, it only solidifies the bond you have with the rest of them. Their world is strange and utterly confusing, but they’ve managed to navigate it together so far, and now that together includes you as well.

It would be perfect were it not for the presence of one person in that group. No one can understand why it is that you and Lydia Martin cannot get along, but the facts remain just as solid as always. Every time you and Lydia cross paths, you can’t escape without at least a few angry comments exchanged. Terse words are a must, and sarcastic retorts are a necessity. There’s no way kindness can prosper if the two of you have to work together.

It makes no sense. You and Lydia should be the closest here of anybody, with the exception of Scott and Stiles. Both of you are clever, among the smartest in your classes; both of you like being right, especially when it saves the lives of your friends. Malia and the rest have told you about a thousand times over that you guys could talk about so much if you would just talk to each other at all. 

That, however, seems to be far easier to say than to do. Lydia won’t let you get in a word unless she’s got the upper hand, and you’re no better. You’re not talking unless you’re sniping at each other, and that’s hardly talking at all. 

You’re not going to act like it totally ruins your friendship with the rest of the McCall pack, only that it’s frustrating you’ll never be able to win over the full set. You don’t need Lydia Martin to love you, though, she just has to tolerate your presence long enough to save your life if necessary, and she does that just fine. 

Too fine, actually. Scott gets it into his head that you should all split up to stake out potential hunter territory to see if they’re planning something big. Seeing as you’re still new to the whole hunter/supernatural deal, you’ll have to have someone there with you to keep you alive if your cover is blown, and of all the people to watch your back, he chooses Lydia. 

You tried to fight that choice as much as possible. If you have to be stuck in the dark of night with someone for an extended period of time, wouldn’t it be better if it was a person you could actually stand? Anyone else would be just fine by you. Even Theo Raeken, and the guy’s literally tried to kill everyone about half a dozen times. 

Scott disagrees, though, citing this as the perfect chance for you and Lydia to finally mend some bridges instead of burning them. You may think he’s insane, but Scott’s word is law, mostly because he’s the most capable of making reasonable decisions of all of you. 

This may be true, but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. You roll up to the stakeout with expectations on the ground, and when Lydia greets you with an eye roll, the bar descends even lower than expected. You’ll both be sitting in her car and waiting for something to happen, and all you can think is that three hours cannot pass quickly enough. 

Lydia chuckles derisively when you climb into her car. Evidently you’re not as good at concealing your disdain for this evening as you’d like to think. “You might want to work on your poker face, sweetheart. You’re looking a little unhappy.”

“Wonder why that is,” you say, settling into your seat with great reluctance, “it’s not like I’m stuck in a car for hours with someone who hates me. Oh wait, I am.”

Lydia frowns. “I don’t hate you.”

You scoff. “Of course you do. We pick fights every time we talk. You’re even arguing with me now about how much we dislike each other.”

Lydia goes silent for a second, then:  “I don’t want anyone to think I hate them. Unless they deserve it, of course.”

“I haven’t killed you or our friends yet,” you remark, “isn’t that enough for me to not deserve it?”

“It should be,” Lydia replies hesitantly. 

Yet it isn’t, which is what she isn’t saying. You exhale, irritated, and turn your attention back towards the house outside, you know, like you were supposed to be doing all this time. The sun sets and disappears beneath the horizon, and once the stars have bothered to take their place, Lydia speaks again. 

“It is.”

You look at her, confused. “What is?”

Lydia gestures vaguely at you. “What you said earlier. What you’ve done isn’t enough for me to hate you.”

“Then why do you?” You ask slowly. 

Lydia tosses you an affronted look. “I don’t, but you seem so determined to dislike me that you think I do anyway.”

Your hackles are rising again, and you feel yourself rushing to counter what she’d just said. “Only because you never give me a chance to do anything else!”

Lydia groans. “See, this is exactly what I mean. Neither of us can say anything without the other taking it as an insult.”

You pause for a second, and when you speak again, your words are calm and cautious. “What about a truce, then?”

Lydia nods. “I’d like a truce.”

She holds out a hand to you and you shake it with as much solemnity as you can muster. It’s awkward for a while after that, both of you apparently unable to come up with things to say that aren’t direct insults, but slowly the conversation comes and then you’re finding connections between each other you never knew existed in the first place. 

In fact, by the time your phone vibrates with the alarm you’d set to mark the end of the stakeout, you find that you’re almost disappointed to leave the car. Lydia must feel the same way, because she only lets you go with a promise to meet up later to talk. For real, this time. Truce continued without the forced proximity of a stakeout. 

You end up meeting Lydia later that week for coffee, then two days later for a study session, then again for a review of your favorite fashion house’s spring collection. The meetups seem to follow each other in waves, no one ever enough to make you tired of her company. If anything, it only makes you want it more. 

You never really considered what the others must think about the abrupt 180 in your interactions with Lydia until you’re at a pack meeting about a month later and Malia confronts you about it. 

The meeting is over, and just as you’re letting down your guard and pulling on your coat, Malia calls something out to you in typical no-nonsense Malia fashion. 

“So,” she says with unimaginable confidence, “how long have you and Lydia been dating?”

You feel every bit of air leave your lungs, and it takes a few seconds for you to recover enough to sputter out, “What?”

Malia spreads her hands. “How long have you been dating? You guys are together all the time. When did you first get together?”

Across the room, Lydia looks as if she’s just been shot. “We’re not dating, Malia.”

Malia frowns. “What do you mean? Of course you are.”

She looks as if she’d like to spend at least a few minutes more explaining all the ways you’re totally in a relationship with Lydia when Scott gently but firmly guides her by the arm out of the room. He winces over his shoulder as he goes, mouthing something like sorry about that and I’ll talk to her about it, I swear. 

You and Lydia are left staring at each other in complete shock. “Crazy mixup she had there, isn’t it?” Lydia asks faintly. “I mean, who could have even thought…”

You shrug weakly. “I mean, is it really such a leap? We go places together without anyone else all the time. We have inside jokes. You have my contact saved in your phone with a heart next to the name.”

Lydia shakes her head. “That’s just because it’s your favorite color. There was no other shape with it. You know that.”

When you stare at her for a moment longer, her eyes clear. “Oh, I see how that could look to someone who wasn’t there.”

“What if she wasn’t entirely wrong?” You ask as casually as you can, “you know, it does look like we’re dating. We might as well just go ahead and make it official.”

Lydia blinks in surprise, then: “Y/N L/N, are you asking me out?”

It takes everything in you to not turn and run. “Are you saying yes?”

Lydia laughs. “Yes, I think I am.”

You think you might owe Malia a favor after this. Intentional or not, she finally managed to get you and Lydia together. That’s at least worth saving her life a couple of times. 

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

[naffeclipse]

Mer fic has been read and thoroughly enjoyed!! \o/

I simply love how you adapted the world to an underwater environment! From the weapons and the ways of life, to the way the vocabulary shifts in the vigilante’s inner dialogue that reflects how they perceive the world!

Of course, we start off with y/n being very smug about sabotaging Eclipse hehe XD Which thankfully, despite his later arrival, was not in vain since the weapons seem to be now unretrievable. Too bad this deal was important enough that the boss himself arrived to see it through.

And oh. My goodness.

Mer Eclipse does not hold back! However, he does indeed hold, as the vigilante can attest to gflñghfd I mean, tentacles are after all pure muscle. And this guy has no problem showing how strong he is, seeing how he both just outright threw his trident so hard it got stuck into a rock wall, and then effortlessly got it out of it too. (I am very normal about that by the way glfkdgjl) And I have a feeling Main verse Eclipse would be ecstatic to leave as many marks as this one did in one go oof. 

(sidenote: I love that he refers to them as Pearl, because it makes so much sense with their pearly scales! Oh and I love that you kept the black and white color scheme so characteristic of them!)

And ahhh it fits so well that he is an octopus like mer! With how touchy he is, and I’ve said before how he is so imposing and takes space and attention, so this form definitely lets him do that physically at a next level! But I also kept thinking how an octopus can technically fit itself into very tiny spaces! So what if y/n at one point is fleeing from him and gets through a tiny fissure that they are sure Eclipse’s massive figure couldn’t go into, but then surprise! Not only is he squeezing through, he’s doing so with ease and there is a wide sharp grin approaching very fast as he claws at the walls for momentum and y/n can only hope there’s an exit they can find at the other side… 

(But I digress, back to the fic XD)

He seems even more willing to use lethal force against y/n too!It really seemed he was going for a join me or die approach, even if the vigilante was assuring themselves that he wouldn’t. Even I was unsure for a moment there, whew!

And oh, that was so smart how they used their own blood to entice him into listening to them. With how blood stays in the water I can only imagine Eclipse has had more than enough encounters with y/n to grow addicted to the smell of theirs. Freaky but useful to entrance him enough to make him more agreeable. Though I can’t see that working next time with the way he delivered that ultimatum.

And then aaaahh!!! Sun and Moon!

(Oh but before I get to that, I really like the way you handled the conflict of the two sides that were originally humans and animatronics, with the humans being the sunlight mers, and the animatronic being the twilight mers, though that really has me itching to know the backstory for the celestial trio!) 

I laughed at Sun’s exasperation at having a wide open entrance but y/n chooses the cool risky one XD I know they were trying to not get detected, but to Sun it must look like so extra for no reason other than to show off (and you just know he loves it all the same >:3c). And he glows gold!! That’s so fitting and so cute and he really shines like the Sun!! And smart as ever, he does not let the vigilante brush off what happened so easily, and even manages to get them to rest when they obviously wanted to go in and out. But also as fluster-able as ever too with that cheeky bed comment gfkdhgkfdjhg

And oh my gosh, the part that caught my attention the most with Moon was when he was warning y/n about getting involved (more than they are) with Eclipse and y/n responded that “he can’t hold me”, while guiding Moon to hold them. And ahhh that means so much, because it’s a silent way of telling him “you can, though.” Him and Sun, because Sun was also asked to stay when they were lying down for rest and aaaaahhh that has my heart melting into a puddle. But also Moon’s defeated “you are going to leave” had me clutching my chest a bit. I know he probably knew that the moment he went for the snapper they would be gone but aaagh you can just hear the yearning and so many things unsaid in that statement.

As a final note, I adored how you incorporated the similarities between the three brothers! The fact that Sun shares the same venomous spikes that Eclipse does (and yet they do not worry y/n as Eclipse’s do), and that Moon has a crown of tentacles he hides, that Eclipse also has (and I wonder if he hides them specifically to not make their familiarity obvious, since spikes might be common among the mer, but maybe tentacles surrounding the head is a bit more specific?), and not to mention the photophores that are in a similar pattern to Eclipse! Since they are organic in this Au, this means they very well can be birth brothers, with Eclipse inheriting both the traits of which Sun and Moon got only one each. But since he has the octopus theme and Sun and Moon have tails, I wonder if in this one he also did adopt them at first and they are just similar species and the photophores sync with those they have chosen as family? Hmmmm, this au has me thinking so many possibilities about how they grew up!

…And god dang it now I have the image of a baby octopus mer Eclipse and then an older but still young one being responsible for baby mer Sun and Moon and why does my brain give me cute when I just read this man do what he did XD

Anyways, I loved reading SJ mermaid style, Naff! Amazing work as always! <3

Ahhh, Chaotik! I'm so happy you enjoyed it, babe! ♥

Thank you! I love writing about a mer Y/N, especially with the vigilante, and it was so fun to figure out the little tidbits in the ocean.

Ah, yes, unfortunately for the vigilante, twilight mers have great strength. I didn't work this line into the fic, but Y/N would never dare try to throw their trident for the fearing of not having it in their hands and that they don't have the strength to throw an object like that through the water at a strong enough speed. Eclipse, however, can.

EEE thank you! I wanted to keep the vigilante's essence as much as possible hehe

Oh gosh, with Eclipse squeezing into a narrow space because of flexibility, your comment made me think of this meme:

Eclipse was a bit upset when he found out what the vigilante had done, to say the least. He wanted to make it known how he felt. You're right to be concerned about the same trick not having the same effect next time around ;-;

Ahhh, I'm really glad the human/animatronic conflict translated well to the sunlight/twilight mers! I had to think about how to go about it to keep the prejudice against the boys and figured that would do the trick.

Sun and Moon are doing their best, and oh, how they endure their sweet little vigilante! I'm glad Sun's light hit well and Moon's little comments had an impact, ahhh!

Okay, I'm so glad you're curious about the boys' backstory and talked about their physical similarities because I've been itching to talk about it! I'm going to tuck it under the read more as I warn that it involves Death and Sickness.

The boys' mother is Comet and the boys' father is Quasar.

Comet is an octo twilight zone mer. She has deep purple and dark blue flesh and yellow suckers. She also has heterochromia eyes, one of red and one of blue, and black sclera. She has tentacles on the back of her skull and her face has a crescent marking.

Quasar is a fish twilight mer. He has pale yellow and silver flesh, broad fins adorning his long tail with a crescent-shaped tail fin, golden scales with scarlet patches like stars, venomous spikes crowning his head, and yellow irises and pale sclera for his eyes.

The twilight zone is a dangerous place, even for the mers that inhabit it. Predators, wicked mers, and the darkness prove lethal to even the most skilled and adapted.

Comet and Quasar loved Eclipse, and he was so clingy as a babe. He had the rare inheritance of both of their head features. Eclipse doesn't remember this time except for the vague care and tenderness that permeates dreams. It was happy.

Quasar was killed by a gang of twilight zone mers before Sun and Moon hatched. Comet did everything to take care of her children alone, at times going hungry but ensuring her little ones had full bellies.

Comet taught Eclipse to always take care of his little brothers. She made certain that he knew that he and Sun's venomous spikes could never hurt anyone they were related to by blood. She also showed Eclipse how to tuck away his head tentacles and that one day, they'll show Moon how to do the same as well.

Eclipse always had a deep connection to his baby brothers, gazing at them in his mother's arms as she cooed and sang lullabies. Eclipse missed his father terribly, but his mother's expectations made it clear that they would make it, they would survive.

A few years later, Comet became deathly sick while they were still young. She instructed Eclipse to go to the Reef to ask for aid. He took his still baby but not-so-small brothers with him. When they ventured to the edge of the corals, they were met with scorn and chased off before he ever had a chance to beg for medicine for his mother.

When he returned, she was laying still, cold, the current tugging on her weightless body.

Eclipse took care of his brothers, finding food and shelter, keeping them safe from dangerous mers and hungry predators alike. His hatred for the Reef and the sunlight zone mers festered, and Sun and Moon longed to escape the darkness, and at last, things changed. The twilight zones could live among the sunlight zone mers.

Eclipse couldn't stand it. Sun and Moon tried to convince Eclipse to leave the darkness behind and stay with them, but he wouldn't.

Tragic backstory aside, baby octopus mer Eclipse is very cute, and oh, he did take care of his younger brothers. Though they have different body types, that never separated them. It was Eclipse's choices later in life that tore the family apart, but they all survived. Eclipse made sure of that.

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

I’ve been thinking a little about why I like the autistic!Raph idea so much, especially when I’m kicking it around with @leonsi, and I think it has something to do with the fact that Raph being autistic breaks a lot of stereotypes about autism.

Don’t get me wrong, I will defend autistic!Donnie headcanons until the day I die, and I love autistic Donnie so very much, but I feel like at least part of the reason they’re so popular is because they fit the popular stereotype of the autistic genius. 

A tall, thin guy (seriously, they’re all tall and thin, it’s weird) who’s a little hard to handle, but makes up for it by being super-smart. Specifically, super-smart about useful things, like science and technology.

It all ties into the indigo children theory, this idea that “weird” kids are expected to save the world adults and neurotypicals fucked up--more prominent in the 90s, but fuck knows you can still find examples of it around here. 

In 20-freaking-18 The Predator remake, already shitty enough on its own, framed autistic people as “the next step in the evolutionary chain,” which is in the end just another responsibility we have to take--to be better, to be useful.

Of all his brothers, Raph’s differences are definitely the least useful. He’s hard to handle, he’s prickly, he’s irritating, he's physically aggressive about protecting his space in a way that sometimes pisses off the people around him, and certain members of the fandom even more so. 

And unlike, say, 2018 Donnie (who is objectively a lot worse and loved a lot more) he doesn’t make up for this by being ridiculously smart or intuitive. He’s not special like a Shelldon Cooper or a Spencer Red or a Sherlock, a kind of special that cancels out oddness with above-and-beyond results.

But this behavior also makes Raph Raph, and that matters more than his capacity to be useful or lack thereof. He grows and changes and fights, he’s useful and useless in equal measure, like any person. That’s the kind of autism that you create when you headcanon Raph as autistic.

And I see myself there. I’m not a science whiz, I don’t invent impossible things or make astounding deductions, my autism doesn’t make me useful or entertaining to watch. I forget how to dress properly, I forget to make room in my conversation for others, I’m rude without meaning to be.

 And I try to do better, without super-compensating by making myself extraordinarily useful. I know that I have worthy even if I am not always brilliant or fun to be around, and so does Raph.

My point is that Hamato Raphael is a Mean Autistic who manages to be worthy of respect despite not being relentlessly cheerful or a supergenius, and I feel like we need more of that kind of representation in our media. And if we’re not going to get it handed to us, we’ll carve it out ourselves.

[silent-raven13]

A Spider-woman named Billie!

Miles 2020 turns over to the direction then saw a young teenager girl running towards him giving him a big hug. "I've miss you!" She cries.

Everyone froze until they got a good look at the teenager, it was a variant of Billie Mariana Morales, Miles' little sister. She's a Spider-woman in her own world instead of Miles Gonzalo Morales.

Miles 2020 had heard through Mariana, a female version of himself telling him about this Spider-woman. He softly smile, let his hand rub her back, "I'm sorry. I'm not him, but it's okay. You can hug me as along as you want." He hugs her back, she needed the closure.

From what he heard, she been through a lot. So much so, she fit the category of a canon Spider-hero. He wants to give her the closure.

Billie sniffling, "Thank you."

"Who's hugging my daddy!" Mariana sitting on Miguel's right shoulder spoke out loud breaking the moment.

The teenager Spider-woman quickly pulled away being embarrassed, "I'm sorry. I know, you're not my brother... it's just- I dunno what came over me. I overreacted and didn't respond or be a smart-" Peter 616 quickly calm her down, "Hey, easy kid. Easy. Your good. It's okay. We get it. We been there. I know this must mean a lot."

"Thanks, Peter." She noticed children around and Miguel 928, she felt more embarrassed she was crying in front of them. And over a variant of her brother, too.

"Peter is right, sweetheart. It's okay." Jess went to comfort the teenager. They all seem to know about her since she had a massive panic attack and strong emotions when she saw Miles 1048. It felt raw so surreal for her that it got her to burst out crying. Mariana from Earth 1022 did informed them about this experience and to be easy on her. She made sure of it.

"Isn't Mariana supposed to be with you?" Miguel asked being worried to find the teenager alone by herself. He saw her breathing changing and body shivering as if she's living through a traumatic experience. "Do you need Med-bay?"

"No-no. Um, I was looking for her but got lost." Billie wrapped her arms around herself, she wants to protect herself, "Sorry..."

"No-no, nena. It's alright." Miguel being a protective fatherly figure went over to comfort her, while one hand hold onto Mariana's small body on his shoulder. Aaron got off as he went to his daddy to be carried. "This must be a big deal, you haven't met any other Miles in person. It's normal to react this way."

Billie sniffs having tears in her eyes as she cries into Miguel's arms, "It's so hard trying to be okay!" Peter 616 frowns at the young girl just like the rest of the adults. They saw how the curse of being a Spider-man can take a toll, especially when they lost a love one.

Miguel could relate, his left arm strokes the teenager's back trying to calm her down. The other children looks down at the crying teenager, it made them sad. All except for one little bugger, Marian leans over her tiny body to pat on Billie's head, "Crying gets you no where! Suck it up!"

"Mariana!" Miles 2020 gasps in shock at his toddler's comment.

"What! Papí always say to push through!" The toddler huffed, "No crying! Don't be a big baby! No one likes a big baby!"

"Esta niña," Miles 2020 went to grab his daughter from Miguel's shoulder and have Aaron be on the large man's shoulder instead. "How many times I told you that's very rude?" He began to lecture his daughter.

"NO! Papà always say crying helps no one!" The toddler shouted out loud.

"Well, it's okay to cry!"

"Then why when I cry for an extra cookie, he said no!"

Miles 2020 groans, "That's different, Mari!"

"No it's isn't!"

"Yes it is!"

"No, it isn't!" Miles 2020 turns to Billie, "I am so sorry. She's always speaking her mind."

Mariana struggles to get away from her daddy wanting to roam free. "I wanna be free, daddy! Let me go!"

"No, this is your punishment! Being right here with me! Mwah, Kisses and snuggles!" The twenty seven year old snuggles with his three year old baby girl, who is trying to get away.

"No! I don't want it! I wanna be free." She whines!

"Nuh-uh."

Billie wipes her tears having to smile at the funny toddler with her daddy. It's cute to see this variant being a dad, She looks up at Miguel, "Thank you, sir. I need that."

"It's okay, chiquita. I'll inform Mariana that you're here. I'm sure she will come by."

Peter 616 said, "Who's Mariana?"

Jess said, "That's Miles' female variant. Surprised you haven't met her."

"There are so many Spider-heroes... it's hard to keep up." Peter said, having Karl in his arms, the toddler chilling in the Spider-man's arm.

Petie nodded, "Oh yeah, Just the other day I saw like ten Miguels and they were all to different yet... oddly familiar. I couldn't remember most of them."

"You remember them? I just use my watch to scan their number and keep notes. Not gonna break my brain for ten of Jess Drews." Jess snorted with an amazing laughter in her throat.

"Or 100 Peter B. Parkers." Miles 2020 groans, while he tries to hold onto to his daughter, who's squirming around his hands, "Cookie, stop moving!"

"No!" Mariana scowls at her daddy, she didn't want to be held. She rubs her face against her daddy's neck almost crying, "Nuuuhhh, da-ddy!"

The Teenage Spider-woman had already pulled away from Miguel's arms, she stood watching Miles 2020 and his daughter arguing.

Billie giggles, "Hahaha, I'm surprised you're a dad... my brother never saw himself having a family." She watches her brother's variant holding the little girl, "I wonder how her mom would feel taking care of all three all the time."

"I gots no mommy, lady! I only got daddies!" Mariana spoke up before any adult could say anything.

Miles 2020 saw Petie giggling, then sighs, "Mariana, you need to use your inside voice."

"I don't wanna!"

Billie looks worried, "Did I say something wrong?"

"No. No! It's just Miles 2020 is from the Omegaverse and he's an Omega-" Billie gasps out loud cutting off Petie. "Oh my god, that explains so much! I didn't know that world existed." No wonder Miles 2020 had this rosy pink glow around him, he's much softer and she could smell sweetness from him.

"You know about the Omegaverse?" Jess asked.

"Yeah, who doesn't?" Billie asked out loud, "I've read a few stories about them."

"Well, me and Petie are both Omegas. We gave birth to our children." Miles 2020 briefly stated, "We are both married to our Alphas."

"And girls can be Alphas, too!" Gabriella happily pitched in.

Billies blink at the girl, "Oh this is another Gabriella variant, isn't it?"

"Yes, I heard you are friends with Gabriel from Earth 3000?" Miguel said, he knew Lyla had other Gabriellas appeared in this place from time to time. He only met a few and a couple of Gabriels. Gabriel from Earth 3000 is son of Miguel O'Hara and Tempest in another world.

"Yeah, we work together on missions with Mariana sometimes."

"Gabriel? Like my tío?" Gabriella asked.

"No, nena. It's another Spider-man..." Billie said, "He's another you."

"Another me! Wow. When will I meet more me?" Gabriella turns to her dad.

"It depends... they come and go whenever they are needed, mi vida." Miguel tries to explain.

"Awe, no fair!" Gabriella pouts. Just when she thought she will meet another her.

Then Mariana, the toddler shouted, "Down with the establishment!" With her hands raised up high in a fist and her brothers did the same thing.

"Shh, nena!" His daddy tries to hush her.

"But Papí said to always fight for the unjust!" The little brown girl pouted at her daddy.

"Not when you can't control someone's time management!"

"Papá doesn't believe in time!" She said out loud.

Miles 2020 could only sigh while Jess and Peter were cracking up. "Must be nice to have triplets, huh?" Jess jokes.

"Wonderful!" Miles 2020 forced a smile, sometimes his triplets be so much. He's lucky none of his hair fall out from all the stress.

"Daddy, I wanna walk!" Mariana whines almost about to cry.

"Nope. You're gonna stay here with me." He uses his web to have Mariana stick on his stomach creating a baby carrier which got the three year old mad!

"NOO! WAHHHH!" She began fuming and struggling to be free, her Alpha canines appeared.

"Mariana, your papí wouldn't like you misbehaving like this." Miles said in a serious tone, "Look how quiet your brothers are and they are living their best lives." His sons were busy in the Spider-men arms. Peter had Karl chilling in his arms while Aaron is happily crawling around Miguel.

"HMPH!" Mariana's round face red, angry eyes made her look so cute.

Billie giggles, "She's so cute when she's mad." She got close to study Mariana's face, who turns her face away from the Spider-woman. "Awe, don't be so mad. Your daddy want you to be safe. What would I give to be with my big bro." Her own honey brown eyes sadden thinking about her brother, she misses him.

Mariana looks back with her own big honey eyes, then place her hand on Billie's face. "Don't be sad lady! It's okay!"

Miles 2020 smiles at his daughter. "Billie, would you like to join us for lunch? It'll be nice for you to get to know all of us."

"Yeah, it'll be great, kid. Mig, me and Jess are always around so if you're ever scared, you can come see us." Peter 616 said.

Miguel nodded, "Yes! You are free to come by." He placed his hand on his own daughter's shoulder trying to show affection. His other hand holding onto to Aaron, who's sitting on his shoulder just vibing.

"I can be your big sister!" Gabriella holds Billie's hand, "In have so much wisdom to teach!"

Billie giggles at how cute the little girl is, "Oh really? What advice you can give me?"

"Being sad always leads to chicken nuggets!" Gabriella proudly said out loud.

"Yeah, that's so true!" Mayday happily said. "I wanna be your big sister too. Number one rule, everything I say is facts!"

Gabriella giggles, "May, I'm the oldest so I'm her big sister."

"No, I am!" Mariana shouted still being upset she's trapped in her web baby carrier her daddy made. "First, rule! Free me!" She struggles.

"Este niña." Miles 2020 groans, "Callmàte, cookie! That's it I'm calling your papì"

"NO! FREEDOM!" She wiggles around trying to loosen the web. The adults chuckles at the little girl still wish to be free from her daddy's web.

"OH BILLIE! There you are!" Hearing a familiar voice. The group look over to find a Marian, a Spider-woman and Miles' female variant. Surprisingly she was followed by a group of Miles and the Punks plus Gwen with Pavtri.

(Part 2)

[kickthecan-revolution]

Peach went to an adoption event held by the rescue in San Rafael, a good 30m drive from the city. When I tell you how I thought I was going to vomit on the way there. It was nuts. I couldn’t imagine him being in a little glass cage by himself and when I got there it wasn’t even that, they were actually cages that someone could open and just pet them. He’s not been in any contact with anyone except the vet, and a housesitter who he hid from underneath the blankets. How in the world was he going to be OK out in public?

But of course, the continued lesson for me is I really have no idea who this little cat is and what he can take. He did well, slept, and was just mellow and snoozing most of the time. He looked deeply into this woman’s face, it was almost a little creepy how he would do that with anyone who stopped by to pet him. The lady in this picture was a little interested for someone she knows who is in assisted-living but the rescue owner and I chatted about it quickly -the potential owner really wanted a tabby lap cat. Peach has a bit of tabby but is mostly Siamese and Maine coon. Plus I’m unsure about a kitten in this scenario. So Amanda -the rescue owner - recommended another older cat who fits the bill. Speaking of Amanda, she is amazing, I asked how she doesn’t get attached and she said her heart is just happiest when she’s finding homes for all of them, even the ones she falls in love with.

I also got to pet Wendy, the beautiful Siamese, Peach’s sibling. They were cuddled together just three months ago and now didn’t even seem to recognize each other.

Amanda confirmed that over 20 cats have been TNR’d in Peech’s neighborhood and eight kittens - plus Peach and Wendy’s mom - are being socialized up for adoption. All because of me grabbing Peach. That’s pretty cool.

So now we’re back home just chilling, watching the moon.

Three things.

I’m needy. Very needy. I try to hide it most of the time but Amanda joked about it a bit and it was a little hard to hear because it’s true. I try to deal with it by hiding it because I know how it pushes others away. I’m embarrassed by how big and messy it is in me - it’s screaming and panicked, all of the time. This professional persona is learned. I’m needy. I’ve not ever said that out loud before because I’ve been so ashamed by it, smart enough to know that it’s the kiss of death to cultivating relationships with the people I am drawn to - really strong women who aren’t needy, who possess an inner strength - so I bury it, push it down hard when it bubbles. I find ways of reacting to it quietly when I can. If I had to guess, if these women are willing to befriend me, it means I’m not needy anymore. I’m strong enough and cool enough - calm enough inside - for them. I’m ok. But there’s this version I’ve created for them that they interact with that isn’t not really me. Saying that, admitting that is important. It’s so clear now.

Second, it was so good to be with people. The degree to which I am by myself, in my head is way worse for my mental health than I realize, and hiding my neediness constantly makes it even more so. I loved chatting with people, animal people are the best kind of human.

Third, I disassociate more than I realize. I stopped for gas on the way to the event, and I was so anxious and in my head, I ended up giving five bucks to a homeless guy standing by the gas pump, put the handle into my car, watched the homeless guy walk away and didn’t even pump any gas, I realized it a few blocks away.

This is the shadow work that people talk about. This isn’t about these cats, not really, this is about me.