#so there might be some mistakes lmao

[ace-of-clubs-and-diamonds]

Perfect Stranger

Which was better – running off somewhere with a stranger like they had, or being left behind as an afterthought?

Rating: Mature, SFW Fandom: Last Night in Soho 2021 Pairing: Sandie Collins x GN!Reader Word count: 4.4K Content warnings: Alcohol consumption, some overstimulation (not the sexy kind), angst, fluff, making out, Reader is an anxious emotional mess because so am I AO3 Link: Here

Author’s Note: Heyyyyy first fic of 2023! I haven’t written anything substantial in a few months, so I figured, why not write something super self-indulgent to get back into the swing of things? I don’t see Sandie from Last Night in Soho getting much attention. But I love her. So this happened! I wrote this for myself and that shows in the reader’s behavior, but of course anyone can read this. For those of you who do, I hope you enjoy! Let’s go.

The club was blisteringly, overwhelmingly alive. An assault on every sense at once.

Jazzy music blared throughout the club, half-drowning out the loud chatter and shrill laughter of the other patrons. The sounds of glasses clinking and shoes tapping against the floor as people danced somehow managed to pierce through the noise and straight to your ringing eardrums. It was warm. Unbearably warm from the heat of crowded, moving bodies. There was already a fine sheen of sweat coating your skin and sticking to your clothes. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat and slid your hands against the cold exterior of your glass.

The cheer and raucousness was infectious, spreading from person to person like a disease of laughter and mirth.

But you remained untouched.

If anything, the joyous crowd only made you feel more alone.

You took a sip of your drink. It was still blessedly cool.

That was something, at least.

A nearby woman cackled with laughter at something her companion said. Someone grazed your back as they passed. You went stiff. Everything was vibrating inside of you. Your skin was too tight, too close, every little sensation was making it shrink further, making it harder to breathe.

Why did you even agree to come here in the first place?

Your friends probably wouldn’t notice if you left anyway. Sure, they were the ones who’d convinced you to dress in your best clothes and tag along. But they’d disappeared to dance with some pretty strangers a while ago. You hadn’t seen them since.

Had they forgotten about you?

The thought that made your heart dip.

They couldn’t have… could they?

Wait a little longer. See if they come back. They probably hadn’t forgotten you, they were just a bit occupied and had lost track of time having fun. Surely. Surely you could wait a little longer. Sit here and listen to the music and people and laughter and the squeak of shoes and rustle of beads and clicking of ice against glass and… the feel of your clothes sticking to your body as you roasted like a turkey… and tried very hard not to focus on the pounding in your head…

Your chest felt too small for your lungs.

“A tequila sunrise please.” The polished voice came from your left, and it came from startlingly close as an arm brushed your side.

You jerked at the sudden contact. The air left your body as every nerve jittered and screeched. With every noise and texture and bright light and melancholy thought ringing through your head, the words formed instant and bitter on your tongue – “Do you FUCKING mind? Can’t a bitch get some personal fucking space here?”

You snapped your head towards the patron next to you.

And immediately snapped it back shut. The words died on your tongue.

The most ethereal woman you had ever seen stared back at you. All sharp cheekbones and big brown doe eyes and blonde hair styled in a perfect up-do. Her dress was made of crimson beading that swayed and glittered with every movement, with a deep red lipstick to match. Even just the way she held herself was so inhumanly graceful. Even just raising a hand to brush a strand of hair out of the way, even just shifting her gaze to meet yours, was done with a wraithlike poise and grace.

You blinked at her.

“Sorry about that,” she said smoothly. She said it with such slick ease that coming from anyone else, it would’ve felt fake. But the look on her face was so openly sincere, you couldn’t help but believe her.

The blistering frustration quickly shriveled into nothing. Instead, a tinge of shame blossomed in your chest for getting so furious at a stranger over something so small.

“Nono, it’s fine, it’s totally fine,” you quickly assured her. You barely stopped yourself from apologizing to her instead. I’m sorry I’m such a bitch. My friends left me to go dance and probably fuck with strangers, and I wasn’t expected to run into YOU. I’m feeling deeply inadequate and lonely right now. Please don’t mind me.

She arched a perfectly plucked eyebrow at you. And looked at you – really looked at you – in a way that made you feel like a bug pinned to a board.

The shame rose.

“Sorry, I…” You trailed off. You weren’t even sure what you wanted to say.

Silence fell between you two.

She was a stranger to you. You were a stranger to her. You were two perfectly random strangers who had happened to bump into each other on a Friday night in a club that was practically busting at the seams with people. It did not matter that your skin felt too tight for your body. It did not matter that your chest was too tight for your lungs. It did not matter that you felt deeply, terrifyingly alone in that very moment. It did not matter that you felt inexplicably drawn to her, as if she was a lifeline cast out into the sea of people.

She was a complete stranger.

She had no obligation towards you.

Was a pretty face all it took to make your head spin? Really? Were you that desperate?

“Here you go, Miss.” The bartender slid the bright orange drink across the counter towards her. She grabbed it with nimble fingers, shot him a half-smirk and a “Thanks”, and made to move away.

Your heart hollowed. Faced with the utter loneliness in the blistering hell of the club, you squeezed your eyes shut and drew in a shaky breath. This was a mistake this was such a fucking mistake –

“Sandie.”

You startled, head snapping up to meet her gaze. She was, again, unexpectedly close to you. And, again, staring at you with an almost unnerving intensity.

Your mind whirled. “Huh?”

“Sandie,” she repeated. “My name is Sandie.”

She was talking to you. She had sat down next to you. She seemed intent on engaging you. A stranger.

Her name was Sandie.

You managed to get your own name out. She tilted her head slightly, thoughtfully, before taking a sip of her drink and speaking again.

“So.” Sandie propped her head against her hand, a casual gesture rendered oddly graceful. “What brings you to the café?”

“Um.” You fiddled with your drink as you tried to sort out your own thoughts. Relief and confusion warred inside of you. Your isolation had been so sharp that you’d internally begged her to stay, to take an interest in you. And now that she had… you couldn’t help but wonder why. Why you, of all people? “Well. My friends wanted to come here. And they convinced me to come too. Uh. They wanted to let loose and have some fun. I mean, it is a Friday night, after all. Perfect time for it, right?”

“Everyone else certainly seems to think so.” She cast a critical eye towards the dancing and laughing crowd, releasing you from her intensity for just a moment. You drew in a shaky, nervous breath.. Then she turned back to you, pinning you again. “So where are your friends?”

Ah. Yeah.

That.

You swallowed past the little lump that had formed in your throat. “They’re…” They were out doing God knows what with a bunch of strangers after tossing you away at the first convenience. As if you were nothing more than a candy wrapper, a formality. “They’re somewhere. Dancing. Probably.”

You twisted around, scanning the crowd for their faces or a flash of a familiar color. Surely, they were somewhere…

…How long had you been sitting here?

“Ahhh.”

You turned back to her, frowning. “What?” She had a knowing look on her face all of a sudden.

She took another delicate sip from her drink. How did she manage to make every little motion and gesture look so effortlessly graceful?

“Let me guess. They’re off pursuing boys and left you here all alone.”

You flinched. Well, when she said it aloud like that…

It really was quite sad and pathetic, wasn’t it? You could see the pity shining in her eyes. It grated against something inside of you.

What did you even want at this point?

You tore your gaze from her. There were too many emotions broiling inside you to recognize. Everything was just… too much. The music and laughter suddenly seemed so much louder, so much more grating, clawing against your eardrums and your brain.

“I don’t want your pity,” you said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not giving you my pity,” she said, tone sharp as a knife.

A tingle crept up your spine as you caught a glimpse of something else behind the pretty, polished exterior. Something that gave you pause, something that made your heart beat a little faster.

…Maybe you’d been wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been pity in her eyes. Maybe it had been something else, something closer to the thoughtful, calculated gleam that shone there now. Or even if it had been pity, there was no trace of it there now.

“I’m offering you a way out of here. Unless you think your friends are coming back.”

Uncertainty settled low in your gut.

Did you? Did you really think they’d come back? And if they did… how long would it take?

Which was better – running off somewhere with a stranger like they had, or being left behind as an afterthought?

“Okay.” The word left out your mouth before you could overthink it.

Sandie’s painted-red lips curved upward. “Well then.” She offered a hand, fingers unfurling. “Shall we?”

You paused. Just for a moment.

Fuck it.

You took her hand.

What else was there to do?

A flash of a smile was all you caught before she pulled you off the barstool with far more strength than you’d been expecting. Your heart flew into your throat as you left your half-finished drinks behind. Your mind whirled with worries and what-ifs. What if your friends came back what if this went terribly wrong what if you were setting yourself up for disappointment–?

The two of you wove through the crowd. Ducked whirling dancers and thrown out arms and people who didn’t bother to look where they were going. A few elbows and hands managed to bump into you, sending a startled spike of adrenaline through your nerves. Sandie, on the other hand, seemed almost untouchable, gliding past people effortlessly as the crowd seemed to part for her.

She hauled you through the crowd, past the dance floor, up the stairs. You caught a glimpse of your reflections along the mirrored walls, meeting your own wide-eyed gaze.

And then, in the blink of an eye, you were outside. Bursting through the doors of the club, out of the suffocating warmness and ceaseless noise and into the wet, cool night. The drum of falling rain swallowed the noise of Soho. The glow of lights and neon signs was diffused by the torrent, and the people were scarce, scurrying to and fro under umbrellas and coats and seeking shelter in any shop or restaurant they could find.

The cold rain was a balm against your heated, sticky skin. Every ounce of tension melted from your body. Unable to resist, you closed your eyes and tipped your head back. Rain streamed down your face, down your scalp and neck and against your eyelids. You soaked in the chill and the white noise. And the strange feeling of freedom that replaced the weight on your shoulders. You felt like you could breathe again.

God.

It was sheer bliss.

You felt a tug on your arm and opened your eyes. Sandie was smiling. In a way that was different than in the club – wider and freer and… genuine. But with that knowing look that had been there before.

“Come on,” she shouted over the rain. “I’m going to take you someplace better.”

“Where?”

“You’ll see!”

She tugged on your arm again, and you followed, picking up speed to match her near-run. Alarm bells went off in your head – it was raining and dark and wet, what if you slipped? But she maneuvered you with the same ease she had in the club, as if she knew every step to a dance you weren’t privy to.

She shot a glance back at you, her expression filled with playful delight. It was infectious, and you found yourself grinning back at her, a laugh threatening to escape you. You ran down the sidewalks, splashing through puddles and giggling together like a couple of children playing in the rain.

You felt so damn free.

What was it about her, about this person you’d met maybe ten minutes ago, that made you want to grow wings and fly through the streets? What was it about her that made you feel like you were doing that exact thing right now?

A chance encounter. That’s all it had been. An unusual chance encounter.

But it had quickly become… something else entirely. It wasn’t necessarily unwelcome.

She stopped with no warning. You nearly crashed right into her, the beads of her dress rustling as you did so. It looked like a dress of blood in the dark, each strand of beads moving and glittering like falling rivulets.

She was… really pretty.

Sandie half-turned to meet your gaze. You were far closer than was appropriate, and you quickly stepped back. Warmth unfurled in your cheeks.

“Here we are,” she said.

You frowned. You didn’t see a sign of any kind. Hidden perhaps by the darkness. But a warm glow emanated from the large window in front of you. A counter, loaves of bread and various desserts, black and white tile floors and pastel pink walls…

“Where’s here?”

She didn’t quite answer. Instead, she slid her hand to your upper arm, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. “Someplace special.”

Sandie guided you inside. A bell chimed as the door swung open, and you were hit by the warmth of the place compared to the icy rain outside. Unlike the club, which had been warm in a sticky, oppressive way, this place was warm like a hug welcoming you in. The smell of fresh bread and butter and cinnamon flooded your senses. There were only a few people here – two people behind the counter and a young man sitting alone in the corner, reading a newspaper and eating a cinnamon roll. Sandie shot him a strange look, eyes narrowing and lip curling just barely. A half-formed question was stopped short when she looked back to you, expression suddenly serene and confident.

Once again, you were struck by just how stunning she was. Even with her hair sticking to her neck and exposed shoulders, even with her makeup starting to run a bit. And how confident she was, as if she knew how she looked and how people – you – reacted to her.

You nervously smoothed your own clothes down. You were sure you looked like a drowned animal in comparison. The warmth of the place only made you more aware of how soaked you were, and how you were dripping rain all over the shiny floors. You winced.

Well, that was certainly the downside to getting wet. The wetness.

“Sandie! Is that you girl?” the 50-something woman behind the counter asked. “You’re going to catch your death running out in the rain like that.” She squinted disapprovingly at you two. You shied under her unfamiliar gaze, but Sandie seemed completely undeterred.

“Oh I can handle the sniffles for a few days.” Sandie pushed a wet strand of hair out of her face and gave the woman a confident smirk. “It would be the least of my problems.”

You frowned. What did that mean?

“It’d make your problems a lot worse,” the woman countered.

Sandie gave a delicate half-shrug, as if to say, Oh well.

The woman’s stern expression shifted to you, then. You fought to keep from fidgeting uncomfortably or shrinking further under her gaze. Though the hand still on your arm soothed you, somewhat. More than it should have, really.

“Who’s your friend?”

Sandie introduced you with the confidence and ease of introducing a long-time acquaintance. It sent a spark of warmth through your insides. “We met at the Café de Paris and decided it wasn’t quite our crowd tonight. Thought it would be better here.”

The woman snorted. “Well I’m no Café de Paris, but you’re perfectly welcome. Especially in this weather.” Her expression softened, just slightly, “What can I get for you two?”

Sandie turned to you. “Any requests?” she asked coyly.

“Um.” Act normal for once goddammit. You glanced at the rows of breads and pastries on display. French loaves, cinnamon rolls, croissants, scones, tarts, pies, cupcakes, cream puffs, things you didn’t know the names of and things you didn’t even recognize – there were so many options, and they all had your mouth watering. “I… don’t know. There’s a lot to choose from…”

“Alright then.” She eyed the display. “How about something simple, then?” She paused. “A cupcake?”

“Sure.” Couldn’t really go wrong with a cupcake.

The woman nodded and gestured to the younger person beside her. They grabbed a couple of cupcakes, Sandie dug around the small handbag she’d been carrying and paid, and you retrieved your treats. The older woman plugged the money into a cash register as you bit into your cupcake.

Soft, warm, sweet. Just a cupcake. Nothing fancy. But perfectly comforting nonetheless.

“Well? What do you think?” Sandie raised her eyebrows at you expectantly. A little hopefully, even. You got the distinct sense that she really, really wanted you to like this place.

And… you did. You felt calmer more at ease. The pounding in your head and buzzing in your veins had faded almost completely. Running through the rain, going to a bakery, spending time with a pretty girl. Such quiet, ordinary things compared to the glitzy, hellish ostentatiousness of the Café de Paris. Small and soothing and more intimate. It was exactly what you’d needed.

And somehow, she had known it.

Just by looking at you and talking to you for a few minutes.

“It’s… it’s perfect.” You hesitated, heart rate picking up, before gently, cautiously placing your free hand on her arm, just as she’d done before. She didn’t shy away, didn’t shrug you off. If anything, she seemed to lean towards you, just a little bit. Just enough that you questioned whether you’d imagined it.

Your face grew warm despite yourself. “Thank you for bringing me here,” you said quickly. “It’s nice. Really nice, actually.”

The beads of Sandie’s dress rustled as she shifted a little, leaned in just a little bit more. You definitely weren’t imagining that. “I thought you could use a change of scenery. You looked like you’d rather be anywhere else in the world.”

Ohhh wonderful. You had been obvious, hadn’t you?

“How did you know?” you asked hesitantly.

“I’ve been there. Different circumstances but… I recognized the look on your face. I’ve seen it the mirror quite a bit myself.” A delicate shrug. A concerning seriousness to her expression.

You were again reminded that she was a stranger. Someone you knew nothing about. You had no idea who she really was, no idea what she’d been through or experienced.

And yet she had dragged you out of your little hell and run through the rain with you and brought you here.

You tried to ignore the emotion fluttering inside your chest.

“Well… thank you. Again. I really appreciate it.”

“Don’t thank me yet. I have one other place I want to take you.”

“Where?”

She discarded her cupcake wrapper into a small trash bin, and exchanged a quick thank you and goodbye with the woman behind the counter.

Then you were back out in the freezing cold rain. The warmth of the bakery evaporated in an instant. A stab of regret went through your heart – why did you have to leave, it was so warm and nice in there – but quickly vanished as the rush of freedom and caress of rain returned. You ran through the streets, giggling and casting glances at each other. With most people cooped up inside to escape the downpour, it was as if you two were the only ones in the world.

It certainly felt that way. If the nervous flurry of your heart was anything to go by.

Sandie came to a sudden stop, dragging you into a covered doorway and pressing you against the old wooden door. Your pulse skyrocketed, cheeks flaring with heat as her gaze bore into you. Unable to bear her intensity, you scrambled for something else to stare at, fixing your gaze over her shoulder long enough to see that the colorful neon lights and glowing display windows had shifted into a quieter, more residential area. There wasn’t another soul in sight.

She planted a hand on the door, just by your shoulder. Half-trapping you in, even as her other hand delicately held yours. Your gaze, inevitably, wandered back to her.

She looked at you through her eyelashes. A faint blush had spread over her cheeks, and her rain-disheveled hair and slightly-smudged makeup made her seem just a little bit wilder. That hidden something peeked back out behind the curtain. Something just a little bit dangerous, a little bit strangely morbid. A thrill went up your spine at the thought.

“Don’t tell me,” she said, slightly out of breath, “that I’m imagining things.”

“Wh–”

Her fingers curled under your chin, her grip firm but delicate. Forcing you to hold her gaze as your heart hammered so loud you were sure she could hear it.

“And don’t you dare think that I haven’t noticed.”

Your mind whirled, unable to land on a coherent thought. “Noticed what?”

“You. And how you’ve been looking at me.”

Oh.

Oh shit.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted. “I didn’t mean to be creepy or anything, you’ve just been so nice and–” And beautiful and stunning and unreal and gorgeous and genuine and actually made an effort for me when so many others haven’t and I just feel some kind of connect–

“Stop.” Two fingers pressed against your lips to silence you. Your thoughts came to an immediate, screeching halt. “I’ve been looked at quite a lot, believe me. You weren’t creepy.” Her gaze flickered down to where her fingers met your lips, and her voice softened. “You weren’t anything of the sort.”

If you burned any hotter, you were going to burst into flames. From embarrassment or something else… you weren’t sure.

She looked down at your lips again, her own parting slightly. She leaned in.

The doorway and the nighttime rain offered a veil to hide you from prying eyes.

Her lips met the corner of your mouth. Gentle, feather-light. More of a slow, lingering brush of skin than a proper kiss. But it stole your breath anyway, made you freeze where you stood as your heart thundered in your ears.

You couldn’t have moved if you wanted to.

Not that you wanted to be anywhere else in the world but here, now, with her breath caressing your lips and the faint scent of sweet perfume enveloping your senses.

She leaned back, just a little, enough to peer at your face and gauge your reaction. Almost by accident, your hands flew out and caught her waist. Keeping her in place. An apology was half-formed on your tongue before you’d even finished the motion. But it withered at her sudden inhale and her hands cupping your face.

She was warm. Warm warm warm, a beacon of warmth and light and something dangerously alluring.

A tiny smile graced her lips. “There you are. Isn’t that better?”

You had to agree. Not that you were really given a chance to, because she was already leaning in again. Your eyes fluttered shut as you met her this time.

Soft and warm. Her lipstick just a little tacky from wear and rain. She moved her mouth against yours, as if wordlessly murmuring against your skin, and you were powerless to do anything but follow her lead. Her hands gently cradled your face. Your own fingers curled into the beaded strings of her dress.

You felt dizzy. Deliciously, pleasantly dizzy.

She was addicting.

Sandie tilted her head, just a little, changing the angle and deepening the kiss. You readily let her tongue press into you, let her slowly, sweetly explore you. She tasted like the icing of the cupcakes you had gotten, as well as something else, something barely-there but stronger and richer.

You whimpered a little. If you hadn’t been pressed against the door and desperately holding onto her, you would’ve collapsed by now. You were certain.

She broke the kiss long enough to hush you. You shivered again and pulled her in tighter, enclosing her in your arms as much as you could. Warm fingers slid from your cheek down to your neck. Her thumbs brushed your jaw.

You had just met her. But your head was spinning enough that, for a moment, you really thought you might be in love with her.

Calm down. Take a breath. Breathe. Don’t do something stupid and weird her out.

Sandie tilted her head, examining your face. She pursed her lips slightly. “I have a feeling you think too much.”

An awkward laugh escaped you. “Yeah… you could say that.”

“Well.” She paused, as if thinking over her next words. “This is where I live.” She nodded to the door behind you. “Unless you have somewhere else to be… you could always come in for a while.”

Your stomach fluttered at the invitation. She knew very well that you had nowhere else to be. That’s why she’d grabbed you in the first place. You had zero obligations to the friends who’d abandoned you for their own pretty strangers. And you had a strange feeling that if you said no, you would part ways and never see her again. It was an odd, uneasy feeling that crept up your spine to your neck.

But if you said yes…

You debated. And then you decided.

You were the one to lean in this time, to capture her lips in a kiss and make her sigh against you. It made you stomach twist itself into knots, made your heart stutter. Made you take in a nervous breath when you parted.

“I think that would be nice, actually,” you said softly.

Sandie smiled. Beautiful and genuine and with just an edge of hesitant hopefulness. The only sign of hesitance you’d seen from her all night. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest and into her hands right there and then.

A chance with the perfect stranger you’d met at the club.

Just a chance.

[rearviewghost]

one thing that really fascinates me about alex is his devotion to art – and more specifically, how he chooses to get some inspiration from scientific works of what he aims to implement in his art. every time one gets to examine some of his lyrics, or even how he explains these lyrics in an interview, they can be greeted by some bits of actual scientific information. an example is how he named his taquería on the moon with the term “information-action ratio”, coined by the critic neil postman, and referenced it in the song four out of five, something that might also indicate an interesting articulation with postman's concept. the line “cute new places keep on popping up”, for example, can express his well-known sardonic discontent regarding the flood of information being generated and transmitted over and over and, as much as it seems visually appealing and does give the idea of benefiting from advanced technologies, it doesn't really add anything substantial to the receiver's critical thinking – and worse, it distances the information receiver from the sender in a communication channel, according to postman.

what i'm saying with this interpretation is, it's known that alex is enamoured with the idea of gathering a bunch of references and condensing them into a mixture of metaphors in his writing, but it's so thrilling how, at times, we can find some bits of science inside of it – and it's even more exciting, just like playing a puzzle game, to find these references and analyse them by doing a similar research to what he did to create his works.

[ganondoodle]

totk made me feel like i got scammed so badly i dont think i want to get any new zelda on release and instead wait until i know its worth it

im afraid zelda will turn into half baked games with flashy imagery to distract you from its shitty writing and superficial references to older games to catch your nostalgia, that the name alone will sell anyway so why try

[sgt-tombstone]

Dance You Off My Mind

Civilian AU where Soap got broken up with by his long-term boyfriend and his best friend Gaz tells him to come visit in London for a week or two (both as distraction and to make sure that Soap isn't alone). Soap mopes for the first few days, and Gaz understands, but by the fourth day, he's over it and he drags Soap out to the nightclub around the corner to get smashed (hopefully in several ways).

Soap is hesitant at first. He hasn't been dancing in a long time; his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend, he has to remind himself) never enjoyed the club scene, so he had stopped going out. For a while, he sticks to the wall, nursing his drink, watched Gaz on the dance floor. When he finishes his first drink, though, Gaz presses another into his hand, and that's how he finds himself three drinks deep and in the middle of the crowd, whirling like he owns the dance floor, not a care in the world.

Simon is ex-military and picked up a job as a security guard/bouncer at the nearest gay club just to keep himself sane. He has a strict, self-imposed (and possibly club-imposed, he's not really sure but it's never mattered) rule not to even flirt with customers. He's gotten more propositions than he can count in the years he's been here, and he's turned them all down. He might look good (he makes sure to keep himself in shape because it helps to both look like he could throw London's largest bear out and also have the actual strength to back it up), but he's working, and his job is to keep an eye out, to keep everyone safe.

The man with the mohawk, however, has caught Simon's eye several times. He's there with someone, but that hasn't stopped him from giving Simon a once-over so salacious that it should be illegal. He has to stop himself from falling into the man's magnetic allure, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his jaw against the temptation. The pair leave just before the club closes, stumbling against each other as they exit, and Simon tries his best to push them from his mind as he helps clean and close.

When he steps out into the chilled night air, he's shocked to find a mohawk waiting for him, the man leaning against the brick wall nonchalantly, and this time, he doesn't resist the pull. He pulls out a fag and offers one to the other man, exchanging names over twin glowing tips and exhales of smoke. As the other man, Soap (weird fuckin' name, but who is he to judge? He went by Ghost for almost his entire adult life), is obviously less drunk than he had been when he had left the club the first time; either time and cold air have sobered him, or he's a damn good actor. Either way, Simon has absolutely no qualms about tilting his head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, especially when Soap whines and presses impossibly closer, his mouth tasting of smoke and ash instead of liquor. His eyes are bright, clear, and eager when they part, and Simon can't wait to get this beautifully responsive man into his bed.

He ends up putting a ring on his finger, in the end, and all of their friends graciously pretend to be shocked by the news (though Gaz does roll his eyes and mutter "it's about damn time" when he thinks that Soap can't hear him)

[bongo-clash]

Peacock Au Part 1

Okay so Big Huge credit to @stealingyourbones for letting me do my own take on their amazing eldritch Danny idea!!!! This started out as me just doing a drawing but then I ended up with a whole DPxDC fic that I'll be posting the part two for at some point!!! Anyway, here's the vague designs:

And here's the part one of the fic under the cut!!! :D (Edit: Part 2 is Here!!)

There’s a Lazarus Pit forming underneath Gotham. Normally, this would not concern John Constantine at all, because it’s Gotham, therefore Bat territory therefore not his problem, and honestly he has his own things to worry about. Unfortunately for him, however, the infamous Dark Knight has somehow gotten it into his head that he can do something about it and, Hell, he’d said it would be a ‘big favour’, which meant the man really must be desperate; had to have been in the first place, he supposed, to have even bothered with John in the first place. 

Still, he’d almost kind of forgotten what a huge mess any kind of favour for Batman could be, and thus, he now holds possession of a book that is probably going to get him killed. 

Whether the actual book itself wants to kill him is up for debate, but Constantine has read the contents of this particular Book of Summonings and nothing in here seems remotely safe. He’s absolutely going to be hiding this away somewhere deep in the archives of the archives of the Justice League watchtower with an incredibly pointed ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ on it once he’s done with this, but for now, it’s the only thing he’s got in the way of sorting out this Pit problem. 

There’s an entity that exists, this book claims, that keeps the balance between realms. ‘Closes doors’, apparently, and the doors the pages depict certainly look like a Lazarus Pit. This is brilliant news, obviously, but the book doesn’t describe the entity itself at all beyond that; barely any of the other entries are as vague as this, and that plus some of the frankly bizarre sigils he’s having to draw to summon the damn thing are giving him no comfort. The only remotely comforting thing about it is that the ritual doesn’t require any blood- which either means the entity is benign, or it wants something more valuable than blood. 

…Okay, maybe not that comforting, actually. 

But, before he can consider that maybe this wasn’t his best idea and backing out would be for the best, the sigils flare with light, and Constantine squints to keep track of the way they activate, desperate for any indication of what he’s managed to summon with that stupid book. 

His feet feel feathery against the ground, like they’re barely tethered by gravity and just waiting to float away, and perhaps the seeming lack of atmosphere is fitting with how dust like stars lift from the summoning circle, bringing with them intercepting layers of purple-blue-pink-white, galaxies and nebulae being peeled off the floor. It comes with a sound- something whistling, almost. Seeming hollow, between a shriek and a bell ringing, or maybe more musical than that. It seems to change every moment he tries to focus on it, as if it’s something his ears can’t really hear but his brain is desperate to process, painful to try. 

And then, the entity begins to form. 

Unnoticeably at first, a white glow drifts forming in the centre. It congeals as Constantine’s gaze finally fixates on it, layers forming like jellyfish trails, or flowers, or peacock feathers with runic circles at the tips, fading smaller and smaller as they reach the centre, and a thing akin to a body unfolds into view at the front, a centrepiece. A child’s image of a shadow in opalescence, a strange curving feature where a neck might be, and searing-green spots of varying sizes scattered along the space where cheeks and eyes could’ve been, fading up and down across the lower-half of the ‘face’ and into the ‘hair’. He barely understands what he’s looking at, but maybe that’s the point. 

The sound of a thunderstorm rings across the room, and the curve of the neck unfolds, and it’s an eye, and the tips of a thousand twisted, cosmic peacock feathers become eyes as well, if they weren’t always. They move, wavering, either lashing or flickering from visibility. 

“And what is this?” The voice is a kaleidoscope, echoing off and from every corner of the room, and when they speak, infinite eyes become infinite mouths, too many teeth barely contained by the edges of what seem vaguely like frostbitten lips. To have something even remotely human suddenly etch itself onto the entity is somehow worse than the parts he can’t comprehend. “Who are you, to have summoned me, and seem so afraid?”

Constantine wishes, maybe for the first time, that it hadn’t been an obligation to do this alone; he’s never wanted Batman or one of the Light members with him more than now. It’s a difficult thing, almost impossible, to shake off the speechlessness. It’s a wonder that it’s possible at all, with how the room seems to have been twisted into a vacuum. “I was told you could- you could help with the pits?”

“The pits. There are many pits.”

God, this is creepy. “The Lazarus pits to, uh, to be specific. There’s a huge one cropping up under Gotham that’s not supposed to be there, and the local- I mean, the locals are getting antsy about it. …I heard you can take care of them.”

“I can smell its blood between the gaps of atmosphere, encircling. You, whose soul is bound in so many directions, who may be pulled apart like meat in time- can you sense it? Does it draw you?” John doesn’t know how this- this thing knows that, but he’s scared asking will invoke some kind of consequence, and more and more he’s wondering why the Hell he decided to do Batman this favour. He feels exposed. 

“Uh… no, I don’t think so. But can you fix it?”

“Yes.”

“…Will you fix it?”

The chill is getting to him. Goosebumps are running across his arms like a livewire, and he’s never doing anyone a favour ever again. The entity makes an approximation of a hum, his ears shriek with whale song and stars, and after a pause, everything switching up and down on itself, the peacock eyes form into huge, reaching hands. For a second, Constantine’s whole body freezes with terror, because he’s petrified the thing’s going to grab him, but then the arms tumble phasing into the ground, and the green spots on their ‘face’ flare with a supernova glow and they make another piercing noise, chiming or trilling. 

A long moment later, the hands slowly return to the entity’s back, and fade into the peacock feathers or jellyfish bells or whatever they were before, blinking at him. “It is gone.”

“Uh… cheers?”

“It will not return, but this place shall see its dead for some time. Try not to look.”

This is maybe the worst day of Constantine’s life. “Can I- uh, yeah, great advice. ‘Appreciate it. But, can I ask just, y’know, what you are? Or not.”

“That is up to you.” They say, and though the eyes that appear briefly between sentences bely or reveal no expression, it feels scrutinising. “What is it that closes doors? Is it alive?”

He hates riddles. He hates riddles and he hates cosmic horrors and he hates eldritch entities and he hates Batman for getting him to agree to this horrible favour. He wants to go back to the House of Mystery and pass out for long enough that this whole thing becomes a dream. “Fair enough! Forget I asked- cheers for sorting out that pit, though. Uh, don’t suppose you’ll just let me go on my way or anything now.”

“I know of your Bat.” 

Oh dear. Constantine’s stomach sinks like a shipwreck into the Mariana Trench, but the entity moves on like they’d never even said it. “I will recede, and find you in time, perhaps both. You will know when I am coming, and I will find my recompense.”

And just like that, their whole form shimmers into clouds and pearls and smoke and mirrors, and they fade back into the runes that summoned them like tap water down the drain. The galaxies they’d formulated within the confines of the room fold back in on themselves and turn to whispers and then nothing, but the feeling persists on his skin long after weight has settled back onto his bones. He hadn’t known a thing like that existed until now. He doesn’t know what it can do, doesn’t know how all-encompassing it truly is. 

And he owes it a favour. 

Crap. 

[deus-ex-mona]

just a tl of lxl's tv guide interview~

Q1: First off, please introduce yourselves!

Aizo: It’s nice to meet you guys! I’m Aizo.

Yujiro: And I’m Yujiro! The two of us make up the idol unit of LIPxLIP.

Aizo: We sing with all we’ve got to bring happiness to our listeners.

Yujiro: We’ve released many MVs as well, so please check them out as well.

Aizo: We also give it our all when we’re shooting our MVs, so you’ll be able to see us being all cool in them!

Yujiro: That sure is a lot of “all”s that we’ve given, Aizo.

Aizo: That’s cuz I really give it my all in everything we do. You do the same, right?

Yujiro: Of course I do. There isn’t a single day when I’m not giving it my all.

Aizo: See? You look calm and composed most of the time, but you’re actually a pretty passionate guy, huh?

Yujiro: It’s because you’re always giving it your all that I feel like I can’t lose either.

Aizo: There it is, your tendency of hating to lose.

Yujiro: Well, we both hate to lose, don’t we?

Aizo: But, Yujiro, you’re able to do everything so easily without seeming bothered by the thought of falling behind, which never fails to surprise me every time.

Yujiro: I guess you’re the opposite of me in that regard, Aizo. You’re a straightforward open book. I think that any onlooker will be able to tell how much you love singing and how much fun you’re having at work.

Aizo: Eh? Do I really look like I’m having that much fun?

Yujiro: You’re always excited when we’re on site. But, Aizo, you’re actually surprisingly calm and even more observant of your surroundings than I am of mine. Even when I’m distressed, you’re the one who notices it faster than anyone else, Aizo…

Aizo: I’ve told you that you should ask for help when you’re troubled, but you really can’t be honest, huh? (laughs)

Yujiro: …Right now, I’m troubled by you and the way you’re smirking at me, Aizo.

Q2: What was the response to your 2nd Album “Be Grateful You Were Born!” like?

Aizo: Since this was our first album in a long time, we have received a lot of responses from our Julieta (what they call their fans) who have been anticipating its release. We’re really happy that it brought joy to them.

Yujiro: We had performed “White Day Kiss” live, so there were many Julieta who were looking forward to its album release too.

Aizo: Also, Narumi (Sena) who starred in the MV for “Julieta”, the sequel to “Romeo” from our previous album, congratulated us too. She said that she’ll recommend the album to her friends as well, which I appreciate!

Yujiro: I will be really happy if people who don’t know of us yet can get to know and support us through this album.

Aizo: We’ll continue to work hard as LIPxLIP with all we’ve got, so please root for us!

Q3: What were the challenges that you faced with this album?

Aizo: Well, it’s more like we faced so many new challenges that I don’t know where to start. (laughs)

Yujiro: In terms of the mood of the songs, I think “Meoto” with its Japanese taste and the Arabian-esque “A.B.Secret” have a very new feel to them compared to our other songs as LIPxLIP.

Aizo: We changed the way we sang to suit each and every song too, so I think we were able to show you new sides of us. For “Meoto”, I was conscious of the way I sang to fit the role I played in the setting of the song, and for “A.B.Secret”, there was that rap-like dialogue.

Yujiro: You may be surprised by the difference in intensity if you listen to “Oshi no Mahou” and “Yurushite Santa-san” after those songs. (laughs)

Aizo: With the “LOVE chu chu”s and the “Please, Santa-san”s, right? I’ll be thrilled if you can feel not just our coolness, but also our cuteness as idols! But… even though I was the one who said all that I’m starting to feel embarrassed.

Q4: The album has songs that would be a hit at live concerts, such as “Oshi no Mahou”, with its fun call-and-response bits.

Aizo: It goes without say that I definitely want to do the call and response with our Julieta!

Yujiro: Same here. I’ll be happy if everyone memorised it and came to watch us perform when that day comes.

Aizo: It’ll be super fun, right?! I’m looking forward to hyping up the venue and making it echo with all our voices.

Yujiro: Is there anything else that you’d like to do during the performance?

Aizo: Hmm, well… Maybe we’ll make a Möbius loop together with the audience… wait, the ideas won’t stop flowing if we carry on like this. (laughs)

Yujiro: Yeah, you’re right. (laughs) Let’s leave the details of the performance as something that our audience can look forward to when the time comes.

Q5: Tell us the secret stories behind the shootings of your MVs!

Aizo: I had a feeling when I heard Yujiro sing “Anata” in his lines in “Meoto”... But I was still surprised when I found out that Yujiro was dressed up in the role of a girl during the MV shooting. But, y’know, it suited you amazingly~. The air your makeup gave off was also different from how it’s like during our usual jacket photoshoots and live concerts, so I was a little charmed by you (laughs).

Yujiro: Thanks. Although I played the role of a woman this time, the costume I wore was a fantastical gorgeous kimono, within a unique setting, so it was easy for me to get into my role without feeling uncomfortable.

Aizo: I really didn’t feel uncomfortable at all either.

Yujiro: You looked good in your bewitching horned costume yourself, Aizo. It brought out your coolness, and you looked strong too.

Aizo: Right?! I was really pumped with all of the manly accessories like the horns, the mask, and the patterns drawn on my body.

Yujiro: Your long sharp nails suited you too. And in the MV, there’s a scene where the pair, played by me and Aizo, open their hearts to each other and hold hands while standing shoulder to shoulder. Be sure to pay attention to the contrast between our hands, okay?

Aizo: Speaking of the shooting, when I was hugging Yujiro during the filming of that shoulder to shoulder scene, I could smell a wonderful fragrance coming off of him. I was really surprised at the time, y’know? (laughs) “He smells so good!” I thought.

Yujiro: The staff had prepared some perfume for me. Although the fragrance can’t be conveyed through the screen, they had hoped to enhance the vividness of the setting for the viewers by having me wear the perfume as we filmed. I thought that it was a wonderful idea, so I had the staff apply the perfume to my costume. 

Aizo: For “A.B.Secret”, we filmed a live concert called “Arabian Nights in the Dunes”, which was yet another tough day. (laughs)

Yujiro: To be honest, we got lost on the way to the venue, so we had to cross several dunes.

Aizo: We may look all nonchalant in the MV, but we’d used quite a lot of our stamina. I’m just glad that we were able to make it to the venue in one piece…

Yujiro: But we were treated to a lot of wonderful food after our performance, so I’d say that it had been a very satisfying day.

Q6: Since this is a TV guide… What TV programmes do the two of you tend to watch?

Yujiro: I watch all kinds of shows, but I tend to watch talk shows often. I think that it’s great that I’m able to learn about current events from all over the world in the form of an entertaining programme, no less.

Aizo: You don’t just check the news or something? You sure are a diligent one, Yujiro.

Yujiro: I watch talk shows just because they’re interesting. If I just want to know the news, I wouldn’t particularly watch a talk show for it.

Aizo: I watch them every so often myself, but I only watch the segments that introduce restaurants that serve good food or amusement park events.

Yujiro: I see. You watch TV too, Aizo? I had the impression that you’d be often off running outside or something instead.

Aizo: Well, I do watch TV, y’know? I like watching programmes hosted by their namesake comedians. And I check out singing programmes without fail.

Yujiro: Yeah, I watch music programmes often too.

Aizo: It goes without say that I check out my favourite bands and artistes too, but I have to know what the current trends are on the rankings! As idols, we can’t afford to lose to others and all.

Yujiro: Though, I do occasionally get hooked on particular trends just from checking them out. (laughs)

Q7: Going off the name of your album, please express your gratitude for each other and your Julieta!

Yujiro: Do you even have anything to be grateful to me for…?

Aizo: Yeah. I’m grateful to always have you as a nice wall for a rival.

Yujiro: A nice wall? Is that supposed to be a compliment?

Aizo: Yes, it’s a compliment. For example, I do pretty well in my studies and sports at school, but when I look at you, Yujiro, I find myself thinking that I can’t be satisfied with the way things are yet. I’m able to grow steadily because I have you as my literal worthy opponent.

Yujiro: You’re really grateful to me, huh?

Aizo: Well, since we have the opportunity now, why not? How about you? You’re not gonna say that you have nothing, are you?

Yujiro: Yeah. I have something too.

Aizo: Ooh, what is it, what is it? 

Yujiro: There has been a lot of pollen in the air lately. So, when I sneezed, you immediately gave me some pocket tissue, the soft kind. You really saved me back then, so I’m grateful to you.

Aizo: Is that simple thing all you’re grateful for…?

Yujiro: Sorry, I was just kidding. (laughs) As I had touched on in an earlier question, whenever I’m depressed or distressed, you’re the first one to notice, Aizo. I tend to overthink all kinds of things, but you always make my worries disappear. So I’m always grateful to you for that, Aizo.

Aizo: Huh, so you do have a proper one after all.

Yujiro: It’s embarrassing to be this honest, so let’s keep this between us, okay?

Aizo: It’d be nice if you could be honest all the time, though.

Yujiro: More importantly, we have to honestly express our gratitude for our Julieta.

Aizo: Yeah. We’re more grateful to our Julieta than anything.

Yujiro: Thank you so much for cheering us on, Julieta.

Aizo: We were only able to release our new album thanks to your support, Julieta. We are able to continue on as LIPxLIP thanks to every one of you who listens to our songs, buys our albums, and sends us your thoughts and cheers.

Yujiro: Julieta, I’m grateful to you from the bottom of my heart. Also, I’d like to express my gratitude that you were born in this era and that you and us were able to meet like this.

Aizo: We will continue to do our very best so that we can return the love that we have received from you, Julieta, many times over.

Both: Please cheer us on!

Q8: What was your first trip together like?

Aizo: There were some pranks, and there were times when I felt exasperated, but it was truly a ton of fun!

Yujiro: We haven’t had many opportunities to go on a trip till now, so it was a really great experience for us. 

Aizo: We got to see many places, plus thanks to the fact that we were in charge of the voiceover for the Izumo guided tour, we had a good knowledge about the places of interest and we were able to enjoy ourselves to the fullest.

Yujiro: I especially liked the footbaths. When I dipped my feet into the footbath after a tiring walk, I was truly impressed by how much it helped to relieve my fatigue.

Aizo: It’s amazing how it completely warmed your feet up, huh?

Yujiro: Yeah, its healing properties are amazing.

Aizo: No, y’see, your feet were flushed pink from the warmth of the water in the footbath after soaking in it for a while. When you took your feet out of the hot water, saying “It’s hot.”, it looked like you were wearing pink socks, which I found rather funny.

Yujiro: …If you want to bring that up, should I release that video of you scooting around on your butt to grab a towel with your legs raised up in the air because you had nowhere to put your wet feet?

Aizo: When did you even take that video…?

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

HonestlyYYYY!! Though now you intimidate me more, you're clearly a big league pharmacist. I just took a summer class to be a techie.

Though like the rude customers are both understandable (miserable, pain, feel icky) but also not because du d e it's not our fault the doctor did the wrong stuff

Don't be afraid, I'm really just tired or confused all the time😭

But yes, I've became kind of sus(?) of doctors now. I have a lot of things I could tell, like when this newly appointed doctor gave her first med to her own grandma - which is a family's friend - and I turned pale after hearing what drug she gave her.

[unanchored-ship]

aaaah just a quick thing I did for school... its about the book I Must Betray You by Ruta Sepetys

[party-pixie]

hey, thanks for the kind words. i'll admit that i kinda forgot for a while that daily demon spotlight was meant to be a blog for fun above all, and i got too obsessed with my perfectionism to where even the slightest criticism would make me panic and overcorrect everything

i really do appreciate what you said as it kinda just grounded me again and made me realize that i'm not some giant public figure, i'm just some teenage trans girl who likes to write, so thank you so much even if you didn't intend it to be that deep lmao 🙏

well im glad i could help 🥰 i've gotten the perfectionism bug with my own writing so i know how much it really sucks. i think it's also scary on the internet where people are increasingly becoming mean to people they don't know over even small things, so it prob feels like you're risking getting huge backlash over something that isn't all that difficult to fix. like, the demon spotlight is just a hobby blog covering figures that appear in a game series that in itself has questionable information and unclear sources, it's not an official compendium blog run by atlus yknow??? i get not wanting to spread misinformation or see it get spread ab mythological figures but for a hobby blog where it's not difficult to add to posts, i don't think it needs to be all that deep. don't be afraid to add an addendum to old posts if you ever come across new information or a correction, i think that kind of thing could be beneficial even if the original post had a lot of incorrect stuff in it

plus, with so many different retellings and translations of mythological stories i think people will consider different ones to be their "canon" to them. i mean like, i read ab two or three different takes just on ganesha's birth in a little section ab parvati in a book discussing a ton of different goddesses. and with language barriers and such, you're bound to run into inaccuracies tbh

i think it's a good preface for everyone involved to come into this understanding that it's easy to unknowingly run into wrong information ab figures, smt is full of inaccuracies in itself, the demon spotlight is just a hobby and isn't gonna get thesis-level work put into it, and the goal isn't to spread misinformation

as long as you keep doing your best in research and handling things as respectfully as you can, i don't think mistakes should be a huge deal. like, yea okay you fucked up a post cus you had bad sources, it's not the end of the world and i don't think you should feel like it's the end of the world or someone else should make you feel that way. just don't argue with people if they give you a correction. i mean, if someone's a total asshole about it that's not really something you can help, the best you can do is apologize and correct the original post. but there's no need to wallow in sorrow cus you got something wrong, it's really not the end of the world🥰👍

[tyrannuspitch]

people are always ridiculing the idea of exclusively gay people and nonbinary people having *actual conversations* about gender and orientation to work out if they're compatible, as if attraction that is anything less than instinctive, instantaneous and sharply binary makes a mockery of Real Homosexuality. meanwhile cishet people going on multiple full-on *dates* to work out if they're "really into" each other is the most normal thing in the world

[em-b-sides]

I think about that tiktok trend where you like paint your partners eye color on your nails or make a bracelet or something with the color a lot actually

[musingsofaninsomniac]

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ˖*°࿐•

[microfeelings]

I just had a rant (with myself) about the character of Mama Jones in 2003 and how she was reduced to "haha, she babies her son and is basically looking for a babysitter for him lol" and how much I HATED that! She lost her husband to a very violent attack (implied), Casey was involved in this (also implied but for the life of me I cant get the timeline straight), the store her husband had got burned. This woman should have heeps of trauma that she most likely buried deep because SHE HAD TO RAISE CASEY ON HER OWN (I guess its implied theres an uncle or auntie bc of cousin sid, but theres no mention of them so I can only imagined they fucked right off), and she got reduced to that?? Come on 2003 you can do better. I KNOW you can do better

(Extra info on the notes bc its mostly ranting and it wouldnt make sense on the main post)

[spaciebabie]

What's the storyline for your ocs?

nerdy straight A middle school student katherine quin and her pals realize that their government sucks ass and b/c they are impassioned naive youth, entangle themselves in a state of affairs that will stay w/them for the rest of their lives

more under the cut b/c i wrote a lot more than i thought i would kasfjksdfjksfj (i have big feelings abt this story)

i (officially) made the story when i was 14! all the characters are based off me and my experience 2 some extent (especially katherine i mean i made her bi, biracial, gave her a mole, made her like indie games etc). originally the story was going 2 have a happy ending, but as ive grown i have more of an appreciation for....well endings that are not so happy. im thinking i change it. it would make sense w/what happens in it anyway (the story of revolution is not as happy and triumphant as 11 year old me imagined when i first acted this out w/my brother. honestly like ive changed the story entirely 2 be my own but i still gotta thank my bro cuz the orig storyline that inspired it when we played legos 2gether was a conjoined effort and i borrowed many of the characters)! as im drafting it now, the story is not particularly happy lol

the story tells a sort of generational loop that katherine goes thru? if that makes sense? i wont go too much in depth b/c spoilers but its a story of history repeating itself again and again and the endless loops pain and suffering cause and how people are scared/too comfortable/too angry to change the cycle. i think that katherine being a history nerd in the midst of watching history unfold again before her very eyes grants her a certain point of view other characters dont have (except a few who have lived experiences). although this awareness will come later in the story when she's older

it will also touch on something young folks feel 2day where ppl frequently ask, "why is this happening today? havent we progressed?" and katherine will ponder that herself (although the situations that happen in the story are strictly to the story ajsfsjfd i cant talk abt and link real life tragedies it would be too much for me). and i think that as she gets older in the story and gains knowledge and wisdom from what she goes thru, she'll hafta bear this horrifying knowledge that the sands of time dont just erode the past, but the present and future as well.

i was not expecting 2 write this much KJSFKJSDJFKSJDF

anyway! i care this story a lot. its like my childhood and has grown with me as ive aged. im really compelled to make it the best it can be and i get a lot of imposter syndrome b/c i know the ideas i have and the story itself as a whole is good, but im worried my execution will fall flat. idk its kept me from moving forward w/it or talking abt it for years.

tldr; two can basically be summed up by this image:

are things going 2 get better? can they get better? questions i think about as i write and think thru this story.

[ricoka]

I know it's constant ups and downs with me and my art lol but I saw one of my earliest fanarts for Capri and yeah, I genuinely did improve since then at least lmaooo I think I made the actual first one private but that one is still out there, visualising my journey, haunting me

[dcrescendo7]

Looking for small shinies in the overworld without sound or sparkle indicators