#or really I wrote a bunch of things

[linkedin-offficial]

The evolution of Skypeople and their prolific adaptability

open read more for the rest of the text ! warning, long post (sorry lol :'D)

during the early days of skypeople life in the realms of sky, skypeople were very weak and susceptible to the elements and dangers that the land, not being very suited for habitable life just yet, had brought to them. because of this, they had to begin adapting rapidly as they finally began to settle into their chosen homes and settlements.

for example, those like the well known avians; known for sparking the invention of caped flight and nurturing many of todays bird populations; were a derivative of early skypeople that had begun sprouting feathers, wings, tails, and birdlike legs to better help them in their chosen environments of the clouds and wind paths. meanwhile others, like miners, were large and rugged skypeople that were known for their amazing ability to go long periods of time without a reliable light source; they had adapted not entirely because of their chosen home, but because of their occupation.

this amazing rapid showcase of adaptability allowed for skypeople to flourish and thrive, the populations all across realms booming very quickly, and communities growing with every passing year.

soon however, because of the many technological advances made by the growing expanse of opportunity that was created, machines and great inventions powered by the most skilled of light magic users were becoming the norm. intensely laborious jobs and harsh trekking became a thing of the past.

then, to complete the cycle, due to such advances, skypeople began to de-evolve. because of the great new technology that had now been mastered, there was little need for much physical adaption. so, as time went on, skypeople began losing these unique features, and looking much like the skypeople you may know today as "spirits".

some skypeople did manage to maintain small aspects of their adaptable family genealogy, but this percentage was miniscule in number.

fig 1 . two skypeople of the early settlement age. the earliest of the skypeople were small, frail, and very fragile. early skypeople would easily be mistaken for skychildren in todays age, no matter how old the individual.

fig 2 . two skypeople at the peak of evolution; an avian and a miner. due to the rapid evolution of skypeople, there was barely any inbetween period between the early age and the peak evolution age. diversity was abundant, and it was easy to find individual skypeople built for almost any job. avians, who excelled at flight; miners, who dominated the tough jobs in dangerous areas; and divers, who took to the open seas with ease; just to name a small handful.

fig 3 . after the slow decline of evolution due to technological advances, skypeople began to become even more diverse in nature. it became hard to tell just exactly the lineage of any individual simply by gazing at their features. because of this, masks, capes, and clothing depicting creatures, occupation, or status became incredibly popular. to dress extravagantly and display your lineage namesake was considered normal.

fig 4 . mostly all of the latest skypeople come from this age, all those we now know as "spirits". this age was not as extravagant as the detransition age, but many of the cultures and things learned stuck strong throughout. in this age, it was hard to find any who bore the unique features of the peak evolution age, which only encouraged those who were persistent in maintaining their lineage's namesakes through generations.

[spookythesillyfella]

man writes a fanfiction . makes art for said fanfiction .

hi yes this is tony lore . and digitaltime . rolled up into one .

[masterfuldoodler]

If half alive has 1000 fans I am one of them. If half alive has 1 fan, I am that fan

[needlesandnilbogs]

happy two year anniversary to mirrorverse, I’m sorry to everyone I’ve inflicted this on (not really about the inflicting it on you but about the length) (how did it get so long in two years)

proof:

[id: a bit of the ao3 work page for the first of the mirrorverse stories I’ve written. it has the publication date of July 9, 2022, circled]

[youngpettyqueen]

for prompts, might I suggest a number 14 with Julian takin care of Kira, and a ‘it feels worse than it looks—no wait-‘ with Julian being a bad patient?

oh my god I finally fucking finished it.

I am SO SORRY this took so long I got hit with. the most violent writer's block ive had in a HOT minute and this had me fighting for my life. I dont even know how many times I wrote and rewrote this. I went through so many different ideas it was actually ridiculous. at one point I had something finished but it Was Not Good and I dont believe in posting writing I dont like so I scrapped it and started again

I keep waffling on whether or not I like this, but thats entirely because ive spent way too long staring at it. im sure in a few days ill actually really like it, cause I really like the dialogue, which was what I wrote out first. pulling myself out of my perfectionism, I do think I like this, and at the very least im proud of getting it down when it gave me so much trouble

again, im so sorry it took so long, but writer's block is a bitch and ive had a lot going on lately, so I hope you understand <3

for the readers- 14 on the list is "Stop pretending that any of this is ok. It's not." I did adjust that one a bit cause I was having trouble making it flow. but, without further ado, here's what I've got! 

Kira slides down with her back against the wall, grinding her teeth as she clutches at her wounded shoulder. The pain is still hot, the hole burned into her skin practically still smoking. She hisses as her palm makes contact with the sticky, raw flesh, but she still clamps down. 

“Anytime you wanna get over here, Julian!” She calls, her voice strained. 

“Doing my best, Major!” Julian calls from where he is, hunkered down behind some debris as a makeshift shield against the barrage of disruptor fire. 

This is, in eloquent terms, a right fucking mess. Getting into a fight with a bunch of Jem’Hadar soldiers is never a good thing, even when they’re prepared. When they’re not prepared, it’s even worse. And this time, they weren’t prepared. Because there weren’t supposed to be any Jem’Hadar on this planet. This was supposed to be a quick pit stop for the Defiant, replacing some whatsit that O’Brien said was damaged in their last firefight, but then there were Jem’Hadar soldiers and they’ve managed to land themselves in a whole different firefight. 

It really just hasn’t been a great week. 

Kira inches closer to the wall’s edge. Her grip on her phaser isn’t stable, but it’ll have to do. She takes a deep, steadying breath, and then she twists over so that she’s peering out from behind the corner. She spots the Jem’Hadar pinning them down, quick count tells here there’s 3 of them, and she snaps her phaser up to hit them with some fire of her own. The motion pulls at her injured shoulder in a way that makes her want to scream, but she bites down on it. 

Julian, bless him, takes the opportunity to lunge out from behind the debris. He scrambles across the gap, barely dodging the returning fire from the Jem’Hadar, and manages to throw himself down behind the security of the wall. He plasters himself up against the wall beside Kira, right as she ducks back behind cover as the Jem’Hadar’s fire intensifies. 

Kira looks at him. He looks at her. He’s breathing hard and heavy, his hair a mess and dirt and blood staining his face. She musters up a grin to tell him, “You’re late.”

Julian gives her a flat look as he turns to her. “Forgive me, it’s a bit difficult to make house calls in the middle of a battlefield,” He replies, sounding very, very tired. But then his eyes flick to her bloody hand, still clamped over her wounded shoulder, and she watches his expression shift as he clicks back into what’s affectionately referred to as doctor mode, “Let’s see that shoulder, then.” 

Kira moves her hand, letting Julian get a look at the wound. She winces as he pulls aside the burnt fabric, taking a deep breath in through her nose and resisting the reflex to jerk away. “How’s it look?” She asks, mostly just to distract herself. 

“Like it needs more than what I’ve got,” Julian replies, frowning, “The dermal regenerator I have will do for now, but this is deep. I’ll need to immobilize your arm,” He tells her, giving her an apologetic look, “If you move it too much, you’ll risk tearing it open again.”

“Just do what you have to,” Kira tells him, “Won’t be the first time I’ve had to shoot myself out with only one arm.” 

Julian nods, and returns his attention to her wound. “Right,” He pulls his kit up and rifles through it for a second. The first thing he pulls out is a hypospray, which he quickly sticks into her neck. Kira relaxes fractionally as the painkillers immediately start to work, dulling some of the burning in her shoulder. Then he’s pulling out the dermal regenerator, and bracing his hand against her shoulder again, “Try to hold still.” He advises.

Kira just gives a tight nod, already gritting her teeth and bracing herself. She feels the dermal regenerator start to work. The hypo helps, but it doesn’t take away that burning, itchy sort of feeling of muscle and nerves and skin stitching itself back together inch by inch. She clenches her fists tight, breathing hard through her nose as Julian works. 

“Sorry, I know this stings,” Julian says, “I’m doing the best I can. This regenerator wasn’t meant for a wound like this.” 

Kira grunts a wordless acknowledgement. If she says anything, it’s just going to be a string of curses. Instead, she focuses on keeping her ear on the sound of disruptor fire, making sure it isn’t getting closer. If the Jem’Hadar decide to come after them, she wants to be ready. 

“Done,” Julian pipes up. She looks over as he puts the regenerator back in his kit, taking the worst of the pain with it and leaving her with a dull ache, “That’s the hard part done. I’m going to move your arm now,” His hands are gentle, taking her arm and carefully easing it away from her side, “There we go. Alright, hold it there, please.” 

Kira does. Julian sits back, and unzips his jacket to get at his undershirt. “This will have to do,” He tells her, tearing a couple of strips from his undershirt, “These won’t be the most comfortable, but they’ll have to do. I’m out of bandages.” He leans back in, starting to bind her arm with the torn fabric.

“Sorry about your shirt.” She cracks weakly.

“I’ll get a new one.” He replies, without so much as a smile.

She hates how flat his voice is. Hates how… unlike him, it is. Quiet, with no bite. “C’mon, Julian, where’s that boyish optimism of yours?” She asks, “I could really use a hit of it right about now.”

Julian secures the bandage around her arm. “I must’ve dropped it when they started shooting at us,” He says, not meeting her eyes, “Do me a favour, Major. Don’t pretend any of this is ok,” He sits back again, still not meeting her eyes, all caught up in taking in his work, “Cause it’s really not.” He does look her in the eye, then. And he looks so… tired.

But then, he’s looked like that for a while, hasn’t he?

Kira gives him a smile. A sad, quiet little smile. “I never said any of this was ok,” She corrects, “I’m just… used to it, at this point.” Very, very used to it. Used to it in a way she hopes he never is. 

Julian considers that for a moment. His expression is hard to read- sad, maybe. Sympathetic. Then he sighs, and breaks eye contact. “Well, I suppose I’m getting used to it, too,” He scrubs a bloody hand through his hair, “We should get going. Can you walk?” He asks.

No time for sentiment, then. Kira nods. “It’s just the arm,” She assures him, “I can do a hell of a lot more than walk.”

“Good,” Julian starts to push himself up to stand, “Let’s-“ He doesn’t get far. He wobbles suddenly, his eyes widening slightly as he nearly topples right over. He barely manages to catch himself, bracing a hand against the wall before he can fall against it.

Kira quickly reaches out to steady him. “Julian?” She sits up, frowning, “What’s wrong?”

Julian frowns, confused. “I… don’t know,” He says, looking down, “I can’t feel my-“ He cuts off, suddenly, his eyes fixing on something, “Ah.”

Kira’s brow furrows. “Ah? What’s-“ She follows his gaze, and comes to the same abrupt halt as she sees just what he’s found, “Ah.” 

Julian has a substantial wound in his thigh. A chunk of his pant leg has been burned away, revealing a raw, painful-looking burn that’s steadily oozing blood down his leg. Kira’s eyes widen at the sight of it. That doesn’t look good. That really doesn’t look good.

“Well,” Julian says, “That’s not ideal.” And then he sways alarmingly, nearly crumpling right to the ground.

“Julian!” Kira lurches forward, manages to catch him by the arms. He grimaces as he eases himself down, taking his weight off his injured leg, “Damnit, Julian, what were you thinking ignoring this? Gimme that tricorder-“ She reaches for his medkit, not waiting for him as she rummages through it herself.

“I wasn’t ignoring it!” He exclaims, “I couldn’t feel it! Honest!” 

Kira finds the tricorder and pulls it out. “Don’t tell me they augmented the ability to feel pain out of you,” He shifts again, adjusting his position to give her a better angle to scan him, and it draws a painful hiss out of him, “Guess not.” She hums.

Julian manages a weak chuckle, the first one she’s gotten out of him all day. “Not as such,” He confirms, “I’ve just been- gah!” He grinds his molars as she pulls the burnt fabric away from the wound, “Preoccupied.” He growls.

Kira huffs softly as she reads the results on the tricorder. It’s not a fun wound. “So busy trying not to get shot that you didn’t realize you got shot?” She asks, arching a brow at him, “I’m almost impressed.”

“Only almost?” Julian asks, all mock indignation, “I’d hate to see what I’d have to do to actually impress you,” He mutters. His eyes drift down, then back up at her. He looks worried, “How bad is it?”

Kira puts the tricorder down. “How bad does it feel?” She dodges. 

“Pfft, this little thing?” He scoffs, gives a weak little wave that’s probably went to ‘wave off’ the pain, “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. It feels worse than it… no. No, wait, that’s not right,” He blinks, and she can almost see the gears in his head turning as he tries to figure out the order of the words, “I don’t mean to alarm you, Major, but I think the shock might be setting in.” He tells her.

Kira can’t help but roll her eyes. “No kidding,” She says, “This isn’t my first time, Julian. Hand me the regenerator, I’ll do what I can with it.” She holds her hand out expectantly.

Julian hands it over. “Now who’s being serious?” He asks.

Kira adjusts how she’s holding him, making sure she’s holding the burnt edges of his uniform away from his skin so that she doesn’t accidentally fuse any fabric to him. “Oh, so you can make jokes,” She takes the dermal regenerator and adjusts her hold on it, making sure it won’t slide out of her hand, which is slick with blood, “I thought you dropped that along with your optimism.” She gets the regenerator going, doing what she can with the wound.

Julian chuckles again, grins at her. “I told you, the shock’s setting in,” He replies, all charm, “I’ll say anything just to say anything. Apologies, but I’m going to be talking your ear off until we get out of here.” He warns.

Kira keeps her eyes on her work, keeps her hand braced on his thigh to hold him still. “As opposed to when you don’t talk my ear off.” She counters. After a few seconds, she can see that the burn’s healed as much as it’s going to. She switches the regenerator off and hands it back to him.

“Rude,” Julian huffs, taking the regenerator and putting it back in his medkit, “How’d the regenerator do? I don’t want to look.” He’s looking even as he says it, like he can’t help himself. 

“It’ll hold,” She tells him, not seeing any point in sugar-coating it. He would see right through her in a second, “For now. I’m gonna bandage it, just in case,” She adds. Now it’s her turn to get at her undershirt, tear it up for strips of fabric, “I liked this shirt, you know.” She informs him as she does.

“I suppose we’re even, then,” Julian cracks weakly, “Have I ever told you you’d make a great medic?” He asks.

There’s the Julian she knows. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” She tells him. Satisfied with her bandages, she gets them ready, “I do have one question for you, Doctor.” 

Julian frowns, confused. Yeah, the shock really has set in if he can’t see what she’s doing. “Go ahead.” He invites.

Kira starts wrapping his leg. “What are your plans for the rest of the day?” She asks.

He looks even more confused. “What are my-“ She yanks the bandages tight before he can finish, and he cuts off with a pitched yelp, “Fuck!”

Maybe it’s a bit mean to chuckle, but Kira can’t help it. She doesn’t often get to hear him curse. “Oh, language,” She tuts as she finishes tying the bandages off, “There. Nice and tight. That oughta hold you together till we get out of here.” She gives his knee a pat. 

Julian pouts at her. “You enjoyed that.” He accuses. 

“I did no such thing,” Kira replies smoothly as she pulls his medkit closer to her and starts rifling through it, not bothering to ask him, “Want a hypo?” She offers.

“No,” Julian shakes his head, making her stop short and give him an incredulous look, “I’ve only got the one left. Save it for someone who needs it.” He reasons. 

Her look quickly flattens. “Don’t start with the heroics, Julian,” She advises, “You’re not gonna be treating any patients until after you’ve been treated. On the Defiant.” She doubts he can even stand on his own, let alone treat people.

“I can hold out till then,” He insists, “Someone else might-“

“Julian,” Kira cuts in, not giving him any room to argue, “Take the fucking hypo.” 

Julian’s brows shoot up and he looks a little stunned. Just for a moment, though, before he huffs a bit of a laugh. “Now who needs to watch their language,” He says, his tone light and teasing, “Alright, go ahead.” He nods.

Kira takes the hypo out of his kit. “Oh, thank you,” She replies, making sure her own tone savours strongly of sarcasm, “You’re a terrible patient, you know that?” 

There’s that grin again. All charm. “So Nurse Jabara keeps telling me.” He replies, like the pain in the ass he is.

“You should listen to her. She’s always right,” Kira sticks the hypo in his neck, and watches his shoulders instantly sink down a notch. She didn’t even realize how tense he was, “Better?” She asks. 

Julian takes a deep breath. Probably the first one he’s taken all day. “…Much,” He admits, with the decency to look a little sheepish, “Thank you, Major.” His smile’s a bit less charm now, a bit more sincere.

Kira finds herself smiling back. “Anytime,” She says. She shoots a quick look around, regaining her bearings a bit now that they’re both taken care of. She can still hear blasters firing, but not as close. They might’ve moved off somewhere else. Or they could be waiting, “We should probably get moving.” She suggests.

“Probably,” Julian agrees, “Just one problem, though. I don’t think I can walk.” He tells her.

Kira figured. “Can you limp?” She asks, “I’ve still got two good shoulders, both perfectly good for leaning on.” She offers, patting her shoulder for emphasis.

There’s that glint in his eye. First time she’s seen it today- stubborn determination, or, in another word, cocky. “I think I can manage that.” He says.

Kira grins. “Great,” She ducks in and gets her arm around his waist, pulling him in snug against her as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Alright, lean on me. Steady. And…” She pushes herself up, and brings him with her. He leans heavy into her side, and she tightens her hold on him to keep him steady, “Up we go. Ready?” She asks.

Julian takes a moment to find his balance, shifting most of his weight off of his injured leg and compensating on Kira’s shoulder. “As I can be,” He tells her with a nod, “Let’s go.”

And they’re off. Making quite the sight as they hobble back into the action, pressed hip to hip and clinging tight to each other. But, hey, they’re still kicking, and they’ve still got their phasers, so they’ll make do. They always do. 

[alsojnpie]

It had never seemed necessary for Papyrus and I to nail down an exact meeting place. “At the park” was always enough for the two of us to find each other. And today, we found each other at the top of the white columned stairs. Well. I guess technically I found him.

It really seemed like he’d been waiting in that exact spot, knowing I was going to be walking that way. But he was watching in the wrong direction; his back turned to me as he waited, watching the stairs. Or maybe he was watching the fountain? Cool air wafted away from flowing water, which I could feel even from across this small plaza. He seemed like he was watching something. I slowed my pace, in order to get a good look at him before he could know that I was watching him.

He was sitting on the wall, leaning forward, with one foot propped up in front of him and the other flat on the ground. A half-eaten lime creamsicle was in his hand, his arm lazily draped over his raised knee.

I guess he must not have been waiting long at all, since he still had popsicle left. As if he was aware of my thoughts, he took a big bite right as I considered it. The wind blew more cool air our way, and ruffled the collar of his too-large shirt and the tall grass on the other side of the wall. I considered, just for a moment, that maybe I should stop walking altogether--just long enough to snap a photo of the picturesqueness of it all. He looked so thoughtful and serious, gazing out towards the lake. Juxtaposed with a popsicle full of lopsided bite marks, this scene was a perfect encapsulation of the monster that was Papyrus.

But I couldn’t. I didn’t have the guts. I didn’t even have the guts to disturb what looked like a satisfying reverie by calling out or otherwise making my presence known. Instead I awkwardly shuffled up to his side and moved to place my hand on his shoulder, but then second-guessed myself and thought, maybe I should tap it instead? It didn’t matter, since he startled and swiveled his head around before I could even decide.

“H...HEY!!” It was always fun to watch his face, and the clear progression of emotions that often played out. Right then it was shock at being approached by a stranger, which instantly gave way to shock at being approached by someone you love, which quickly melted into glee at having been tricked (with a hint of sheepishness for having been facing the wrong way).

“HEH, I THOUGHT YOU WERE ON YOUR WAY UP! WANT SOME?” The softened popsicle was extended towards me. Of course I wanted some, so I obliged him with a slurp that took care of a good half of what was left on the stick.

“..........” His disappointment was palpable, and my sudden guilt must have shown on my face too.

“WAIT, IT’S FINE. REALLY. I OFFERED IT TO YOU, SO...”

“Where’d you get that from, anyway? Do they sell those here??”

“THESE? THESE?? YOU KNOW THEY DON’T SELL THESE HERE! I HAD TO BRING IT WITH.” He gives a good slap to a bag I hadn’t noticed sitting next to him.

“.....They’ll melt.”

“THEY WON’T!”

“Hm. I didn’t know you had popsicle-cooling magic... Neat!” I reached down to the bag, eager for a popsicle of my own and curious about the cooling mechanism.

But the bag was swept away from my grasp, and Papyrus was shaking a finger at me. “YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO GO DIGGING IN MY MAGIC BAG.” He swung his leg over the wall, landing both feet firmly on the ground and standing up straight with an exaggerated gesture. “BUT I AM!” A bright red creamsicle was soon procured, unwrapped and thrust into my hands. I was suspicious of what sort of “magic” was keeping it cold, since it seemed to be already starting to soften, but couldn’t find the heart to complain about getting a treat.

Once Papyrus had started in on his second popsicle (orange this time), the two of us linked arms and began strolling towards the stairs overlooking the lake. From this vantage point, even more of the lake was visible, as well as the vague outline of paths surrounding it on the opposite side. This lake wasn’t particularly big, but it took almost half an hour to walk around a single lap. The paths were forested, at times so thickly that the lake couldn’t be seen, and that made them seem isolated, and longer than they really were. But all of it seemed so much smaller from up here even though it wasn’t that far away at all.

As we began making our way down the staircase, I bit the popsicle with my lips over my teeth then slurped up the melting ice cream inside. It cooled my face but warmed my heart. “You know, I didn’t even realize they still made these popsicles. I used to eat them a lot as a kid.”

“I, DON’T THINK THEY ACTUALLY DO?? YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT A PAIN I WENT THROUGH, TRYING TO FIND THEM!” 

On the lake there wasn’t much visible from here other than a few small paddle boats, but as we got closer I could make out groups of kayakers who seemed to drift effortlessly by.

“IT COULDN’T HAVE BEEN THAT LONG AGO THEY WERE DISCONTINUED. I REMEMBER EATING THEM TOO, BACK WHEN THE BARRIER WAS FIRST BROKEN.”

In reality, I knew that the riders were having to work hard to propel their boats forward through the water. I’d never been kayaking, but it had always looked like fun to me. Stealing a glance over at Papyrus, who was still going on about the popsicles, I wondered if it could be a good way to work out together with him, fully expecting that he’d be excellent at it.

Suddenly I realized that my popsicle was gone. “Oh hey...can I have a green one now?” I waved my popsicle stick, licked mostly clean, in front of Papyrus and he grimaced. “It’s been so long since I had these, I forgot how much I liked ‘em.”

“YES, I KNEW YOU HAD EXCELLENT TASTE. OF COURSE I WOULD LOVE TO FETCH YOU A GREEN ONE. BUT I’M NOT YOUR TRASH COLLECTOR! AND IF YOU STICK THAT...THAT STICKY THING IN THE BAG YOU MIGHT-- RUIN THE MAGIC OR SOMETHING!” He made a shooing gesture at my stick, which only made me want to wave it in his face even more. “GO FIND A GARBAGE CAN!”

Seeing as there were no garbage cans nearby, I stuck the stick into my jeans pocket, much to Papyrus’s dismay. But he forgave me enough to serve me a green popsicle after all. This popsicle was suspiciously much softer than the last. “Hey.....you’re not using magic at all, are you?” I squinted at him as almost the entirety of the lime popsicle shell sloughed off in my mouth. “.....*gulp*. You just packed a ton of popsicles and counted on being able to finish them off before they melted.”

Papyrus seemed to be watching the boats on the lake quite intently now but surely he was aware of my accusatory stare out of the corner of his eye. His stern expression twitched with a grin. “I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT."

"..........."

"BUT. I'LL ADMIT THAT IT’S A GOOD THING YOU’RE HERE, SO YOU CAN HELP ME EAT THEM ALL.”

“True. It’ll be a lot of work to finish them all before they melt.”

“WELL, DON’T GET ME WRONG! I COULD MANAGE IT.”

The path down the stairs was lined with shady trees, but the lake itself was surrounded by a sunny, open walkway. I had a feeling that no, he could not manage it. These popsicles were not going to last more than 10 minutes, tops. Even through our combined efforts, there would probably be a couple of melted treats. I slurped up most of the ice cream center as we walked across a platformed break in the stairs, eager to do my part either way. 

But as we stepped down onto the stairs again, I saw something that made me jump in alarm: a wedding party! And their cameras were pointed straight up the picturesque stairs, right at us! Without even thinking, I pulled Papyrus by our linked arms, running back up to the platform before turning off onto a small dirt path running diagonal to the stairs.

The air was heavy and quiet as I pondered whether or not I had photobombed that bride and groom’s photoshoot. Probably so. Even though I hadn’t noticed it until we were very near, that was only because I hadn’t been paying attention. The pictures probably had us there in the background, though it wouldn’t have been very close to the subject. It was a public park, so I couldn’t really feel guilty for it, but even still, I didn’t want to be in some stranger’s wedding photos.

“.......” I wasn’t exactly sure why but suddenly things felt clumsy and awkward. I didn’t know what to say, or whether to say anything, and the little bit of popsicle I had left was completely forgotten. Slowly I turned my eyes up towards Papyrus only to find him calmly nibbling on a new popsicle (a red one now) while looking back in the direction of the couple.

“........HM. YOU THINK....YOU MIGHT WANT TO DO THAT SOMETIME? ME AND YOU?”

My heart, pounding, leapt straight to my throat, blocking out any words or sounds from coming through, while my grip on the popsicle stick tightened. Was this a joke?

No...he was genuinely asking me for an answer, I realized, as he looked down, smiling at me expectantly. But he looked so laid back about it. Somehow, we must have been thinking of two different things.

“U..uh....I, I mean....um...ho-honestly, I’m, I-I’ve.......you know...it feels embarrassing somehow to b-be...honest...but....” My words got quieter as my face got hotter. I went to take a giant bite of the popsicle to cool down, but what had been left of it had already melted and ran down into my fist. 

“HANG ON....OH MY GOD......ARE YOU SCARED OF BEING OUT ON THE WATER???” His suddenly concerned face only confused me even more.

“WAAAAIT, WAIT WAIT WAIT...” Papyrus took a brief look around himself, which at first I took to mean that he was checking to see if anyone was around. But maybe he was looking for a place to hold his popsicle because the next thing he did was quickly suck the whole thing directly off the stick (swallowing it dutifully rather than savoring it, and tossing the stick to the ground), before placing his thick-gloved hands squarely on my shoulders, and leaning in close.

His worried frown was right in front of my face, much closer than it usually happened to be. I tried to listen to him instead of focusing on his features, but it was hard. I hadn’t had this chance to be so close before. His voice wasn’t...quiet... but, it was softer than I expected.

“IT’S OK TO BE SCARED OF THAT. PERFECTLY OK. DON’T....DON’T BE EMBARRASSED. WE DON’T HAVE TO--”

Suddenly everything clicked in my mind. Our eyes met. “To...go kayaking together....?”

“YES. EXACTLY. WE DON’T HAVE TO GO KAYAKING TOGETHER. I’VE NEVER DONE IT MYSELF, BUT....WELL...WHEN I SAW THOSE LITTLE BOATS ON THE BIG LAKE....” He smiled softly, sheepishly even. “I THOUGHT IT LOOKED LIKE FUN.”

Actually, it did sound fun. Really fun. I returned his smile, shyly, even though he didn’t seem to completely understand that look, and grasped his hand, pulling it to my chest confidingly.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be too scary....if we were together.”

Sorrowfully, Papyrus shook his head. “THE KAYAK IS A BOAT THAT ONLY FITS ONE PERSON, I’M AFRAID.”

“I meant. Together, in our own boats. Side by side on the water.”

“OH. SURE. YES! I’LL STICK RIGHT BY YOU!!” His grin was nothing short of triumphant.

Then he noticed my hand, clasping his.

“ ............YECCCK!! WHY ARE YOU SO STICKY?!?!?!”

[bookshelf-in-progress]

June Writing Wishlist

Finish something for each of the unfinished Chesterton Challenge prompts (current plans are for two pieces of flash fiction, a bit of Arateph worldbuilding, and two scenes from Shadowstruck)

Write at least 10,000 words of a single project (or, possibly, divide it up between two shorter retellings)

[13eyond13]

actually stunned by how gay The Beatles has been all this time and I just never knew

[godsfavoritescientist]

Billford isnt canon in a literal Sincere Authorial Intent sense, y'all 😭😭😭 please get better standards for how much creators need to include in order for something to be considered officially canon. I've jokingly said "I cant believe billford is canon" too, but I thought we were saying that lightheartedly. I thought we all recognized that it was "canonized" in a wink-wink nudge-nudge way where they fully leave room for people to interpret it as "haha isn't it so funny and clever that they're framing being betrayed by a demon as if it's a romantic breakup!" Please. I'm begging you, do you understand what I'm saying here

[weareuniqueandimportant]

EMPATHY GLAMORIZATION IS NOT ABOUT EMPATHY BUT SUPERIORITY TORWARDS APATHETIC PEOPLE BIGOTRY TORWARDS THEM TYPICAL BIGOT EVIL. SIMPLE AS THAT. IF YOU SEE THEM AS LEFTIST YOU'RE NO LEFTIST YOURSELF. HORRIBLE. THAT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO HAVE ONLY EMPATHY AND BAD TO THINK EVERYTHING YOU DO IS SUCH ESPECIALLY WHEN THEY'RE CLEARLY BEING APATHETIC IF ANYTHING WHEN THEY DO THIS...

COMES TO SHOW BIGOTRY TORWARDS CRAZY AND DISABLED PEOPLE ASWELL AS PARAPHILIA PEOPLE ISN'T TAKEN AT ALL THE SAME AS SEXISM RACISM AND QUEERPHOBIA... OR PERHAPS... LIKELY... THEY ARE ALL THE BIGOTED THINGS EVIL AND TAKE NONE THAT SERIOUSLY... BELITTLING DOWN THEIR PAIN AND DAMAGE...

[setevulpo]

i was thinking about the archangels and how fucked up being possessed by one of them would be and this was created. headcanons on what each (non-bloodline) vessel would go through while possessed! bon appétit

-

michael

their vessel runs hot, grace a constant thrum under the skin that imitates a heartbeat well enough for those unaware not to notice. the blue glow that takes over their eyes upon the slightest provocation calms only when their enemies are on the ground, enochian seared into what’s left of their skin once the light dies down.

the heat that follows them shapes the air into wings too big for the space they’re in, even in the most expansive fields earth has. they have to watch out when stepping on grass, or stretching their wings too far into the trees, or fire will follow them too.

eventually it starts to burn, whatever body they’re in. the grace running through its veins turns closer to lava with each passing day, flares deep inside its chest and expands down to its hands when their anger rises. bruises showing up in blues no matter how old they are, burns in its skin hot to the touch.

a smell of fire and smoke follows them when they leave the vessel, and they set ablaze anything in their path on the way to a new body. the largest fires are caused by their rage, charred eyes and hearts left behind on their path.

-

lucifer

there's something freezing under their skin, somehow encompassing entire rooms and digging into the skin of everyone around them. the air around them is cold enough to kill, frostbite reaching others before turning their own vessel's hands red with it. its lips are bitten red and raw because the taste of blood is almost intoxicating.

garbled enochian slips through in a constant downpour, because they are an angel and won't taint their tongue with a human language despite the way it burns their vessel's mouth. the easiest way to find them is following the trail of frozen footsteps and the scent of rust so strong it can be tasted.

the hypothermia that sets after some time is what leads them to find a new body, when the one they are wearing becomes too sluggish and their grace starts slipping through the dry cracks in its skin. all that's left is a cold body with its eyes frozen shut.

the earth bleeds on their path, water freezes red by being in their proximity, plants burn and die from the frost. their grace whips through the air and leaves bloody slashes in the skin of anyone who dares get in their way, the wounds never closing completely.

-

raphael

their electricity can be felt under the skin of their vessel, sometimes shocking those who try landing their hands on it. their presence makes people’s hair stand on end, their voice resonates through the room in a way that makes it impossible to ignore. the fissures that appear on its skin from one day to the next are eerily similar to lightning.

the eyes of their vessel gain an unnatural brightness, something fiery that is just wrong when compared to the decaying state of the rest its body. their words flow in a way that’s almost hypnotic, calming until the next strike of their blade.

an ill-suited vessel can’t hold them for long. the tremors starting in its hands show that, as do the bouts of dizziness that hit them every so often. by the time their vessel starts losing its sight they have a new victim picked, their electricity having already eroded the brain of the previous.

it seems as if thunderstorms follow their grace, both rain and lightning falling close but never hitting them. wildfires start in their wake, raindrops never quite reaching their destination, and the injured miraculously recovering in hours.

-

gabriel

there’s a wind hiding under their skin, usually unnoticeable to the common eye. they’re light on their feet, eyes travelling through every corner of the room they’re in, the air around them somehow feeling heavy with the power they chase. at times it blows stronger, the whole of them looking longer, bigger than their vessel, but it doesn’t last long anymore.

their vessel’s skin grows dry with time, tearing open with each snap of their fingers, grace pouring from its hands and giving life to lilies wherever it falls. all of their vessels’ hands are burnt by the time they leave, skin too fragile to handle their grace.

erosion is what kills their bodies, the debris that always seems to fly back towards them easily chipping away at flesh and bone. what’s left of the body after they take their leave isn’t enough to keep it alive, not with the dust coating its lungs.

tornadoes follow the path of their grace, leaving destruction and chaos between their vessels. they are angry, and they are frustrated, and the mayhem they create is the singular way they can be heard. the debris lifted by their rage is flung as far as their grace can reach.

-

[starbuck]

“bro, SHOULD we?”

[shikai-the-storyteller]

There is truly nothing more exhilarating than rereading old fic notes and going "DAMN this is good."

(That, and also laughing out loud at your own jokes.)

[drifloonz]

o yea my keyboards fixed now . i might forget to do requests or Give up halfway and leave it rotting in WIPs but i will try to rember.. i have at least two i want to do (eventually) when i have the energy . thankyou all for being patient i am god awful at this

[mistfallengw2]

2, 7, 10, and 11 for Maeveryl?

@mystery-salad

Get to Know Your Character

2. How do they treat themselves when they're feeling sad?

First, they allow themselves to feel the sadness (no bottling up allowed), then try to make up for it. If Adamas or friends are not available to spend time with them, they'll dive deep into books, maybe after a good training session to let out the tension.

-

7. What emotions or situations do they try to avoid? Why?

(Bottled up) anger and situations that may cause it. Maybe weird for a berserker, but they have valid reasons.

[More bits of context and lots of rambling under read more at the bottom]

-

10. What are their emotional triggers?

Being harshly reminded of people they lost or being put in situations where they could lose people they care about, as it triggers more negative emotions than they might be ready to deal with at once. They can still manage to function for a long time and deal with it just fine, but it still affects them greatly and leads to them needing more time to recover.

Going berserk can also act as a trigger and leave them emotionally raw, as channeling rage can also carry other negative feelings and painful memories, especially if they do it too often or for too long.

They also do not like to have Balthazar's action be brought up in their presence. While they don't really have a connection to him (they did feel a bit of magical resonance around him or where he had used his powers, which became relevant in S3 and PoF) and they can rationalize the fact that Aurene absorbed Balthazar's magic, they still feel somewhat ashamed that they're the way they are because of something Balthazar once created (which pairs up badly with being a sylvari, y'know). The negative experiences with a few people who brought it up in a more or less accusatory manner kind of sealed the instant-negativity of the topic.

-

11. How do they feel about love?

In their opinion, it's the essence of life, in all its forms. If you don't love and care about others and the beauty of this world, what are you even doing with your life?

While they never really look for love, they love without shame and are very sappy about it all, as it's what keeps them grounded. No one really has the heart to complain though, no matter how annoying it might be for them, given how genuine they are about it.

-

MORE CONTEXT FOR 7. [Oh boy this got rambly, but the cinnamon roll shroom deserves it.]

After undergoing the transformation granted by the Idol of Balthazar (during The Ghost Rite), Maeveryl actually did suffer from side effects tied to it. They didn't turn into, as Gixx had put it, "a ravaging, blood-crazed psychopath", but they became quite moody and started getting carried away during battle, which was weird for someone who used to be cheerfully calm, warm sunshine personified and not particularly interested in combat regardless of their talent for it.

Initially they thought it was just emotional dysregulation tied to mourning Sieran's death and the whole stress of helping with the creation of the Pact, but they felt a lot and felt it strongly, both in positive and especially in negative, and it seemed to increase the more time passed (and the more they dipped into that mental state). After they mentioned how they felt during the Battle of Fort Trinity (which was a wild emotional rollercoaster for them), some of their fellow scholars brought up the possibility of the idol's influence and the similarities with berserkers' abilities. It made sense, Maeveryl figured it wasn't that big of a deal since it had its valid uses in combat, so they kept allowing it to happen... until they nearly died due to the recklessness that came with it. It was their first sobering experience, and the now-mostly-faded scar on their face (left by the "secondhand" magical fire of the searing cauldron) serves as a perpetual reminder of the risks they had ignored up to that point.

For the rest of the Orr campaign, Maeveryl tried their hardest to avoid anything that could make them angry or particularly sad, which quickly proved to be nearly impossible given the Pact was fast approaching Arah. So they bottled it all up and pretended to be fine! After a fast recovery, they pushed to go with Trahearne and the others to the Source of Arah, and their new method backfired quite fast, as Adamas had to risk getting in their way to get them to snap out of it. Unable to join the final battle due to their recent wounds and sore in all the ways, they waited in the backline camps, trying to quickly get ready to face their emotions and keep themselves in check no matter what happened. While they didn't lose anyone they truly cared about, such a potent fear of loss and ending up as emotional support for others was another sobering experience, if not even "educational", for lack of a better term.

After Zhaitan's defeat, believing that those powers could still be useful if used correctly, they focused on studying their own situation and reaching a good level of control, all with support and help from Adamas and their friends to keep them in check and grounded whenever things got too stressful. It was something they were already fairly good at, but fast forward a few months, they had learned the proper ways to manage and channel any sort of emotion without letting it get to them, allowing them to enter berserk mode at will and develop their powers. It was far from perfect, but letting themselves go berserk during combat became sort of therapeutic to Maeveryl, as they could finally have an outlet to let out all of the negativity in a "productively destructive" manner. Still, they learned the hard way that it had to be done in relative moderation (or at least properly counterbalanced with rest and positive things) to avoid succumbing to it, so they still tried to avoid any personal emotionally intense situation they could (and specifically one particularly sore spot).

In the years that followed, Maeveryl didn't lose themselves no matter what happened, be it loss of dear friends or catastrophic events, and it all ended up being quite instrumental during HoT (where they resisted Mordremoth's call better than most, meekly accepted the abuse all sylvari suffered, and had the calm nerves to call themselves off the mission when they felt at their limit) and later in IBS. Other than that, their overall demeanor became even calmer than it used to be, they learned to be a great mediator, and they ended up becoming even more fiercely supportive of their loved ones (especially Adamas, of course).

Only one other time they lost themselves in the rage, years later in Bjora's Marches, but it was to save Adamas in an impossible situation, and they snapped back as soon as the threat was eliminated. It hurt enough that they didn't tap into it for months, though not for the reasons most could imagine. When it happened again for another similarly good reason, they thought they'd lose themselves again, but they kept full control for the very first time.

[pagesofkenna]

but say someone did want to read the homestuck fic….

I keep forgetting I don't have my AO3 link on my profile page!

here's my full AO3 archive 😘

Blunted like a Practice Sword (Homestuck, davekat, the fic i'm referencing)

A Simpler Time (the actual best MSPA thing I've ever written, Homestuck and Problem Sleuth)

Metal Flowers (perhaps one of the best things I've written point blank, Six of Crows, kanez)

Waking Dream (ace attorney, narumitsu, more examples of me writing awkward relationship dynamics lmao)

Love Letters (miraculous, love square, proof that i can write normal relationship dynamics too kinda)