#they fall back to the source a significant amount of the time

[zorciarkrildrush]

There's always a day coming around where you see people all but frothing at the mouth at the news you might die today

[spamgyu]

Cherry // Wonwoo one shot

DESCRIPTION: His past was constantly haunting his thoughts, and he knew he deserved it. But he also didn't think that his past was much closer than he thought. PAIRING: Wonwoo x Reader GENRE: Angst

by popular demand, this is second part to champagne problems

"Hey did you get my Slack?"

His coworker looked up from his computer, meeting his eyes as he stood at the doorway of his office.

Lunch had finally rolled around and him and the friends he made in his department had made it a habit to spend their break together every Friday. It was his team leader, Jeonghan's turn to pick the restaurant and Wonwoo had taken the initiative to ask him where today's meal was going to be at.

Jeonghan was typically quick with his replies, but as his message remained unseen by his coworker, Wonwoo decided to head over to his office and ask him in person.

It was Friday, anyways. The emails and tasks can wait for Monday... or at least later after he had some sort of food in his stomach.

"Shit." Jeonghan slapped his hand on his forehead. "Completely forgot to let you guys know. My girlfriend is bringing lunch today."

Ah yes, the mystery girl his team lead claimed to be dating.

It had been a year since Wonwoo joined the team, and like the other two on their team, he had yet to meet the girl that had always been Jeonghan's topic of conversation. He had always talked about her but kept most of the details about her in secret – earning teasings from Joshua that the girl probably didn't exist.

Jeonghan was very private with his personal life, rarely allowing his work friends in on who he was outside of the company building.

Like a true Libra.

"Are we finally meeting her?" Wonwoo cracked a smile. He and the rest of their small team had always been quite curios of Jeonghan's significant other. Especially with how highly he spoke of her – as if he worshipped the ground she walked on.

They had always joked that he resembled the heart-eyes emoji anytime he spoke about the woman that had brought the light into his life.

And of course, Jeonghan didn't care for these light hearted comments; agreeing with them. He was clearly in love and no amount of teasing could embarrass him.

Jeonghan chuckled. "Maybe. Are you guys leaving soon?"

Wonwoo shrugged. "Haven't decided where to go."

"I'll be sure to introduce you guys to her." He smiled.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

He knew that voice from anywhere.

Though, the last time he's heard it, it didn't sound like this. It sounded broken, riddled with pain and tears.

At least, the last time he's heard it in person.

He could still hear it when he was alone with his thoughts, when there was stillness in his life, in his dreams. That voice was cheerful and bright in his head, replaying all the times she had called him "baby" and peppered his face with kisses.

Wonwoo felt his body grow cold – his ear zeroing in on where the source was coming from.

He was hoping that his guess was wrong.

It can't be.

Falling behind Joshua and Seungcheol's steps, Wonwoo slowly put one front in front of the other as they made their way to Jeonghan's office.

They had left for lunch shortly after his conversation with Jeonghan nearly an hour ago, unable to catch a glimpse of the so called girl of Jeonghan's dreams. Being equally as nosey as him, Joshua had somehow convinced Seungcheol to rush through their meal so that they could at least say hi to her.

Wonwoo felt the rice bowl he ate make it's way back up, leaving an acidic taste in his mouth as her voice grew louder with each step he took. He wanted to make a run for it. He wanted to make up an excuse.

But somehow, he couldn't.

It was almost as if her voice had hypnotized him, his brain unable to fight his legs from moving forward.

"Oh, they're here." Jeonghan smiled, standing from his seat to greet his department members standing at his doorway.

The girl's back was still turned when Wonwoo caught sight of her, sitting on the chair opposite of Jeonghan's desk.

She didn't need to turn around for him to know who it was. Her hair may be much longer this time, but he knew that figure.

He knows the way she sat, her posture, her style.... That scent.

Chloe eau de parfum. Her signature scent.

She still used it.

It was as if he was transported back in time – his knees buckling under him.

Reaching for the napkin by her plate, she wiped her lips before turning around to greet the three men her boyfriend had told her about.

"Y/n." She smiled, bringing her hand out to shake theirs – starting from Seungcheol's end.

Wonwoo sucked in a deep breath once she got to him, pulling his best smile as he felt her touch again. It was brief but it was more than enough for him – feeling her hand fit into his.

Just like old times.

He thought the pain he felt that god forsaken night was the worst he could ever experience in his life – but this was far worse. It felt as though he could feel and hear everything all around him as he watched her make small talk with the two men by his side, all while Jeonghan's arm casually slung around her hips.

Wonwoo wasn't listening to a single thing they were saying. He was far too busy battling his mind's attempts to put him in fight or flight mode.

All those times Jeonghan spoke about the girl he hopes to marry, claiming he knew she was the one the second he dropped her off after the first date, the girl he had recently moved in with, the girl he had bought a puppy for as Christmas present – it was her.

It was the girl he had broken all those years ago.

Wonwoo absentmindedly reached up to the black fabric around his neck, pulling it loose away from him as he felt his airway grow tighter – his chest heaving as the air around him became thin.

"You okay?" She eyed him.

He blinked back his thoughts, sending her a smile and nod. "Yeah." He coughed.

"You look like you saw a ghost." Joshua added with a chuckle.

He did.

Ghost of his past.

The one that haunted him every day for the past three years.

Any time he ordered coffee, he thought about how she was the one that had recommended him that soy milk was a far better option than whole milk. Whenever he would go out for groceries himself, he would remember all the times she would walk alongside the cart as he pushed it – allowing her to talk him into steering away from the list they had put together.

There wasn't a single day when he didn't think of her. Everything he did, it always came back to her.

Wonwoo couldn't help but think if she had done the same with Jeonghan.

Did he also prefer iced soy lattes despite the nearly freezing temperature because she had shown him that it was better than burning his tongue?

Did he also laugh at all her sneaky attempts to put snacks into their grocery carts?

Did she also wake him with her cold toes in the middle of the night, seeking warmth from his legs because no matter how much he cranked the heater up – it wasn't enough to raise her body's internal temperature?

Did she also take him around to her parent's home to show off the paintings they have collected over time? Especially the one he had bought for them for their 15 year anniversary?

Did Jeonghan know about him?

"Alright, I gotta go." She clapped, glancing at the clock on the wall. "It was great seeing you all."

Y/n's eyes lingered on his, a warm smile on her lips.

All the pain, the anger, the suffering behind her eyes were gone – she had forgiven him.

It was great seeing you. It was for him.

Wonwoo didn't know if this was much worse than her being angry at him. In his head, he chose to believe that she still saw him as a villain – the man that ripped her heart out and stomped on it.

Because in his head, he was the villain. He still and will always beat himself up for what he had done to her.

To them.

He was the monster that took their perfect relationship and destroyed it.

Wonwoo didn't know how, but she found a way to move on. While he had yet to forgive himself for his mistakes, stuck in the past and clinging on to the only thing he knows – she had not once turned back.

Just like that night.

Y/n kept moving forward and left him all alone to wallow in what they once were.... and what they could have been.

"I'll call you after work, baby." Y/n bid Jeonghan goodbye as placed a kiss on her temple.

Baby. A simple pet name that carried so much weight.

She once called him that.

That title was once his.

That sweet voice, the one that was music to his ears, calling someone else the words he wished he heard every day.

The heart buried deep in his stomach had fallen out, shattering into millions of pieces. He couldn't suppress his emotions any longer, he felt as though his chest was going to burst.

Wonwoo hurriedly excused himself to his office, leaning against the now shut door – finally letting out the sob that threatened to escape his throat just a few seconds ago.

This must have been what she felt when she had found out that he had sinned against her.

He deserved it. All of it.

This was the bed he made himself and he had no choice but to lie in it

[poughkeepsies]

Buddie Secret Relationship Conspiracy Manifesto

Hello. Welcome to possibly the most delusional buddie theory yet. This is a collaboration with @swiftiebuckleys, and as such I would like to cite our sources accordingly: dude, trust us.

Okay so I know a lot of people have talked about the theory of buddie possibly being in a secret relationship that is even a secret from the audience during season 6. For me, this started during 6A. It started because I was thinking about how 601 started with such a poignant and domestic Buckley-Diaz family scene that, as a part of a premier that was meant to establish where the characters are after four months of hiatus, told us Buck, Eddie and Christopher are living in each other's pockets as their own little family at the start of the season (I even wrote about this in this meta I posted while 6a was airing lmao).

But then for the rest of 6A there really wasn't any significant on-screen buddie or Buckley-Diaz moments, even though there was plenty that was implied at, including: Buck and Eddie planning to go to Marisol's house to help with repairs without the rest of the firefam, Buck and Chris hanging out so Chris potentially telling Buck the secret about skipping school even though he didn't tell Eddie, Buck and Eddie sitting in the back of the waiting room together separate from the rest of the firefam while they waited for news about Karen, and Eddie giving Hoover to Buck and convincing him to keep him even though his building doesn't allow dogs. What do all but one of these moments have in common? They're moments where Buck and Eddie were either alone or away from anyone who would know them from the rest of the gang and wouldn't feel the need to hide their relationship. When at work, Buck and Eddie had a reasonably normal amount of on-screen interactions, but it was only their moments happening outside of work that was pushed to the off-screen. (Bonus: one on-screen 6A moment that lives in my head rent-free and screams of secret relationship is that shot of them stepping into frame together and holding eye contact while the song lyrics in the bg go "I want your sex and your affection when I'm holding you close" in 609.)

However, while this^ is all well and good, it's 6B that really gives the secret relationship theory its wings.

Episode 10 gave us the lightning strike with a sequence that was shot almost entirely from the perspective of Eddie. While in the initial aftermath of the strike we see the shock on Hen, Chimney, and Bobby's faces, the scene is in slow-motion and muted until Eddie realizes what's going on and we watch every minute facial expression on his face as the horror dawns and he snaps into action. Eddie's reaction is what sparks everyone else's movement and then we see him completely forgo his own injuries and his own safety to save Buck. In the secret relationship trope, the near-death experience is a lot of the time what forces the couple to blow their cover and reveal their relationship. That didn't happen here as buddie were already close enough to warrant the strength of Eddie's reaction and Buck was unresponsive and there wasn't any time to lose. HOWEVER, episode 11 and the absence of a scene with Eddie alone at Buck's bedside can be explained by the fact that he couldn't be shone there or his bedside confessions would have given them away to the audience. As it is, other than Margaret and Maddie, Buck's mother and sister, he's the only one dressed in all black, his composure crumbling and unable to make eye contact with Buck's body in the hospital bed, the perfect picture of a grieving widow.

Episode 12 has the infamous couch scene which is meant to signal to the audience that Eddie is the couch Buck has been searching for, even if Buck himself doesn't know it. However, in the context of the secret relationship theory, what if the total lack of reaction from Eddie about Buck falling asleep on his couch is because they already know this?

Episode 13 has the infamous poker scene and this is where the theory actually diverges for a lot of people. Going with the original theory that buddie have been together since before 6A, this would explain Buck's lack of reaction to Eddie telling him to get dressed up and taking him out on what is essentially a date - he wasn't surprised or suspicious because it wasn't unusual. If you go back and watch the scene, you'll notice that it opens right when Buck and Eddie are approaching the door and about to be in the presence of other firefighters, but initially they're walking away from a dark alley while fixing their clothes - why would they need to fix their clothes unless they got messed up in the first place? Why wouldn't they show us the before or after of the poker scene, why only the parts where they're in the presence of other people from the department? Plus, Eddie really was looking TOO blatantly hungry in that entire scene, and he wasn't really hiding it from Buck - maybe because he's allowed, and expected, to look. This isn't even to mention the scenes of Buck, Eddie, and Christopher being a family, but I will go back to those later.

Where this episode splits this theory is the alternate potential for them to have gotten together after the poker game (my initial post after the episode first came out.) This would have been the perfect opportunity because there's really no way that if they weren't already together, the thought that this might be a date hadn't crossed Buck's mind (and, again, Eddie really did look too fucking horny in that scene it wasn't something you could ignore.) The next outside of work scene we see the Buckley-Diaz' in is the baking scene with Buck and Christopher. Eddie's location is completely unknown - he could be on shift, he could be running errands, he could be with Pepa - but the fact that Buck and Chris are together and baking for his class and planning dinner really drives home the fact that they are a family once again. However, the easy confidence of Buck parenting Christopher and the way he glowed with happiness in that moment would make even more sense if he had had his place in the Diaz family as Eddie's partner and Christopher's other parent confirmed to him.

One way to possibly combine the two theories is if we assume that Buck and Eddie were actually fwb throughout 6A (an idea given to me by @captainragtag) but actually got together after the poker scene. ANOTHER way is if we assume they've only been fwb, even after the poker scene. Them being fwb would potentially explain some holes in the theory, moments where they should have had a bigger reaction to something or known something beforehand if they were in a relationship (kind of the sperm donor arc and Eddie's reaction, but that could also be explained by Eddie's lack of reaction being because he already knew and was just pretending to be finding out for the first time with everyone else.)

Going into episode 14, all of these theories could explain the *gestures vaguely* everything about Eddie's storyline in the episode. If they're hiding a relationship, the absence of any mentions of Buck when talking about Eddie (and Christopher) being alone would make sense, especially after how pointedly the previous episode showed that Eddie is always spending his free time with Buck, with or without Christopher. It would also explain Buck's extremely unsubtle date-ruining advice - either they're together and Buck just doesn't want Eddie to go on the date because he doesn't want to share even to keep up pretenses, or they're fwb and Buck is jealous and afraid to lose Eddie and their relationship if Eddie starts actually dating. Also, considering how many pure fanfic tropes the writers have used before, it's safe to assume they have at least a baseline knowledge of how buddie are written by fans and what's the first trope every fanfic reader in this fandom learns about? Christopher's first and foremost wingman duty is to pack his stuff and go to a sleepover so his dads can do unholy things to each other. Christopher being at a sleepover when Pepa told Eddie to come over and him insisting that he was alone at home when just last episode we saw buddie spending all their time off shift together is just a little too sus if you ask me. Another secret relationship moment in the episode is Eddie going for the wrong gear shift in his own car. He initially reached for the gear shift on the center console when that's not where it is in his truck. But do you know where the gear shift is in a jeep? I'll give you one guess. Do we know anyone who owns a jeep? I'll give you another guess. This would make total sense since we know Eddie is a passenger princess and Buck would be driving them everywhere if they were in a relationship. Even when Buck isn't the one driving, Eddie would be much more likely to borrow his car more often if they were in a relationship and basically living together.

If this all doesn't convince you, I would like to leave you with the reminder of a moment that I'm sure has haunted all of us since 614 came out:

Actors are always aware when they're on camera and even if they aren't, the dozens of production people, including the director, would be. Do with that what you will.

(If anyone has anything they'd like to add to this feel free to message me or send me an ask and I'll make edits! And, I mean, this is all just for fun not to be taken seriously, but if there is a point that you think really brings the theory down also feel free to send me an ask about that lets see if I can provide a suitable explanation.)

edit: another thing to keep in mind as pointed out by the brilliant @swiftiebuckleys is the precedent set by 606 "Tomorrow" for flashbacks showing the start of a relationship.

[noorthehood]

Until You • 01

Miguel O'Hara/Reader

Faster updates on Ao3!

With a glimpse of a futuristic cityscape and an encounter with a Spiderman seemingly much different from the one you’re used to, you unknowingly find yourself thrust into a web of intrigue and danger as the very fabric of space and time is warping. Who will you trust?

...................................................................................................

“Lyla, input the diagnostics results.”

The holographic AI dramatically throws her head back with a loud sigh, displaying what seems to be exasperation, before appearing next to Miguel’s right shoulder in an instant.

“Would it kill you to be courteous? Jeez.” Her voice echoes in his ear as she swiftly transfers massive amounts of data onto the screens in front of him. “Keep that up and you’ll die alone.”

“I’m already well on track for that.” Miguel mutters, shaking his head to ignore the persistent ringing in his right ear. He taps the hovering screens, attempting to make sense of the flood of information presented to him, but frustration paints his face as he places a hand on his hip, clearly dissatisfied with what he’s looking at.

After taking on the responsibility to resolve anomalous situations across universes, the self-proclaimed leader of the Spider-Society had been juggling some issues pertaining to his own respective reality for several weeks now. Not that it had kept him from keeping the order in the multiverse, far from it — but he had allowed said issues to pile up long enough that they became an inconvenience.

“This isn’t what I need.” He grumbles, growing more irritated. “It doesn’t tell me anything.”

Lyla groans.

“Well if you had just, I don’t know, taken care of it six months ago before Stone got his hands on reality-altering tech—”

“I know, I know, don’t you shocking start with that again.” Miguel interrupts, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I screwed up, we get it. And now it’s on me to fix this mess—which is what I’m trying to do.”

His eyes briefly glance up at the live feed from the storage room where said tech was being securely kept.

“But I can’t do much if I don’t even know what it is I’m dealing with.”

A flat metallic platform, that was it. Roughly 15 feet on each side, no discernible control panel, energy source, or any other identifying features. After a surprise raid into Alchemax’s quarters following scattered electrical surges that left nearly half the city without power for a few minutes, he had stumbled upon the strange contraption in the underground level of the building. The machine—if you could even call it that—was surrounded by passed out scientists strewn out across the room, many of which were visibly brain-fried from the sheer power they had been subjected to. One thing led to another, and the mystery device was now being monitored at the Spider-Society’s base.

“I can see if there’s a way to examine the circuit board and extract more data, but…” Lyla hesitates, “That’s assuming there is a motherboard at all. I rarely say this, but I’m afraid my skills might fall short in this case.”

One thing was sure though; whatever that device was, it did not originate from his universe.

He could sense it the moment he walked into that lab. A faint, continuous buzz reminiscent of TV static emanated from the machine, imperceptible to the human ear but painfully noticeable to his heightened senses. The hum quickly became unbearable, prompting him to relocate the device to another room for the sake of his sanity.

That might perhaps explain why Lyla couldn’t provide any significant information about the device—despite essentially being a supercomputer, there were limits to her cross-dimensional knowledge.

“Just…do whatever you can. I’m counting on you.” He says, walking toward the exit as his mask materializes over his face. “I’m heading out. Let me know if you’ve got any news by the time I’m back.”

“Sure thing, Supreme Leader.” Lyla mockingly responds.

Miguel scoffs and steps outside, but takes one last glance over his shoulder at the machine on the screen. An uneasy feeling was gnawing at him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger as to why—call it intuition.

“Let’s hope you don’t bring me more problems than I already have.”

* * *

Hours have passed since Miguel's departure. Lyla remained a steadfast sentinel, her projection poised beside the dormant machine (which she had nicknamed Carmen); she was monitoring it diligently, occasionally responding to other requests from Spider-people, while still remaining vigilant.

“What’s the matter this time?” she mutters to herself, her voice laced with a hint of exasperation, as she looks at the holographic screen in front of her. Ever since the creation of the Spider-Society, her days had been filled with an endless stream of inquiries and requests for intel, leaving her with little respite.

‘Lyla, could you update me on that Scorpion guy from last week? I brought him in from Earth-5684 but—’

Before they could finish their sentence, a sudden, intense buzzing reverberates through the lab, causing the lights to flicker and casting an eerie glow over the room. The disturbance jolts Lyla from her virtual reverie, momentarily freezing her digital form in surprise.

“...That can’t be good.”

In the fraction of a second, without warning, a soft vibration reverberates through the room, a low hum that seems to originate from the very heart of the machine. It pulses with a persistent rhythm, gradually growing in intensity with each passing second. The air crackles, charged with an electric energy that seems to awaken the dormant device.

As if responding to an unseen conductor, the once inert machine bursts into life, its sleek surface flickering in a dance of lights. Multicolored beams of illumination sweep across its intricate circuits, transforming the previously monotonous exterior into a mesmerizing display of pulsating colors, as though the machine had been infused with a newfound vitality, electrified by an invisible current.

It seemed like the fabric of reality itself had been punctured. The storage room, once a haven of silence and shadows, was now vibrating with an outworldly energy.

Without hesitation, Lyla hangs up on her previous interlocutor and activates the communication interface, swiftly sending Miguel a notification. "Miguel has got to see thi—”

Her statement was promptly cut short by a sudden burst of blinding light which enveloped the room, illuminating every corner with an intense radiance. Simultaneously, a piercing, high-pitched ringing filled the air, drowning out all other sounds within the lab.

As the blinding flash dissipated, leaving nothing but fading afterimages, a heavy silence descended upon the room—the once buzzing and vibrant space now seemed suspended in stillness, as if time itself held its breath. Lyla's holographic form shimmered, adjusting to the abrupt change in atmosphere, her virtual senses on high alert.

She advances toward the enigmatic machine, her luminous projection casting a soft yellow glow on the metallic surface. As she draws closer, her eyes widen in astonishment, taking in the unexpected sight that greeted her.

Before her lay two women, unconscious and sprawled across the surface of the enigmatic machine. Their bodies were still, seemingly untouched by the events that had just unfolded.

Caution mingled with curiosity as Lyla floats closer, hovering above the motionless figures. She observes them with a mix of awe and concern, contemplating her next course of action. Uncertainty gnawed at her programming—should she consider them civilians, or potential foes?

With a resolute decision, she reaches out to initiate a diagnostic scan. Her holographic fingers gently brush against the women's motionless bodies, activating the scanning protocols within her digital realm. The familiar yellow grid of data begins to envelop them, meticulously probing for any signs of distress or anomalies.

A few minutes pass as the scan progresses, her virtual eyes scrutinize the readings, processing the influx of information. Every datapoint was meticulously analyzed, every anomaly would be cataloged for further investigation—yet, despite the thorough examination, the results provided no immediate answers. The women appear unharmed, their vitals stable.

“Just where the hell did you both come from?” An unease settled within Lyla's digital core.

As though to answer her question, you suddenly jolt up, gasping for air. It felt like you had been holding your breath for hours, and the stagnant air of the dark room you found yourself in nearly felt like hot coal in your lungs.

The dim lighting makes it hard for your eyes to adjust to the darkness but you still look around, not recognizing your surroundings nor remembering how you ended up there. Did you fall asleep in an unused meeting room? Or did you pass out from skipping all meals at work again?

Your mind was clouded with incessant ringing, and the strange pressure in your chest was not helping.

“How…” You begin before your own body interrupts you, giving you an uncontrollable urge to retch.

Hands and knees on the cold ground, you wipe the saliva off the corner of your mouth, making sure your clothes remain untouched, before clumsily attempting to stand up—in vain. A few attempts later, the agitation begins to kick in as you realize something is clearly off. The shortness of breath, the persisting tinnitus, your uncooperative muscles, the obviously unfamiliar room—weren’t you at the office a minute ago?

You blink a few times and finally are able to make out the space around you. Are those…machines? And the cold ground under your hands and feet is just…a large slab of polished metal?

“Where the hell is this?” You whisper under your breath, finally able to stand up on your own two feet. “What…am I doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” You jump back in fright, letting out a loud yelp at the sudden female voice coming from beside you.

You turn your head to catch a glimpse of a bright presence next to you—right in front of your face, as a matter of fact. You yell out in surprise and nearly tumble backwards as you make out the details of your startling interlocutor.

A small, glowing, floating woman.

“What the—”

You don’t even have time to process the sight in front of you before she disappears and reappears behind you in a split second.

“Before anything else, I think you should note you’ve got another friend over here.”

Nearly gasping for air in incomprehension, you frown and squint in the direction the small ghostly projection was illuminating with her glowing yellow figure. It takes you a second to recognize the body of a woman laying still on the ground.

“Oh, shit, that’s—” Hurriedly, you stumble in her direction to check in on the woman. You recognize her, having seen her at the office before—but your mind was too clouded and all over the place to focus on where exactly you know her from. “Are—Are you okay? Can you hear me, are you hurt?”

With shaking hands and voice, you manage to check her pulse and see that she’s breathing.

“If you can hear me, I’m part of the office ERT, can you—”

“Gee, I just said you had another friend, not that you need to give them mouth-to-mouth.” The female voice chimed in behind you. “She’s fine, just knocked out.”

You hesitate and look back and forth at the unconscious woman, then her. Cautiously, you take a few steps in her direction, keeping your body as a shield between her and the motionless body.

“Who are—”

“Urgh, please! Spare me the questions. How cliché.” The glowing figure interjects, leaving you no chance to place a word.

You frown.

This situation was getting increasingly bizarre; why were you talking to this ghostly woman in the first place? Nothing guarantees that she isn’t a fragment of your imagination—what if you hit your head and were hallucinating the whole thing?

For now, your priority was to make sure the unconscious woman behind you got the proper care she needed. You turn on your heels and prop her arm onto your shoulder, attempting to position her into a piggyback-like hold.

“Wait, what are you—” After a few tries, you finally succeed, and start looking for an exit to the room. “Hold on, I need you to stay put before—”

Ignoring her calls, you finally notice a large hexagonal-shaped gate across the room. Although the woman on your back is quite light and petite, you nearly trip several times due to thick wires scattered across the ground coming from all sorts of machines, of the kind you’ve never seen before. You try not to give it too much thought and walk up to the gate before it opens automatically.

“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just walk off on—are you listening to me?”

You wave off the small woman, leaving her with a gaping mouth and an offended look on her face, before stepping outside.

As the gate opens, the blinding light of the outside world makes you automatically raise your free hand to your face, slowly adjusting to the drastic change of atmosphere.

Slowly but surely, your eyes are able to make out the sight in front of you.

“What in the…”

The sight that unfolds before you defies all expectations, leaving you in a state of awe and disbelief. Instead of the familiar surroundings you were anticipating, you find yourself standing in the midst of a futuristic cityscape that stretches far beyond the limits of your imagination.

Towering skyscrapers adorned with sleek, shimmering glass rise into the sky, their impressive height seemingly reaching for the heavens—the buildings showcase breathtaking architectural designs, with curvaceous contours and intricate patterns that defy gravity and conventional norms. The city pulses with life, its streets bustling with futuristic vehicles zipping past in a blur of neon lights and sleek lines.

You can feel your heart rate increasing exponentially, and you drop to your knees, unable to understand what is happening as questions swirl within you—is this an elaborate dream?

“What the hell is this place…” You whisper to yourself, barely able to breathe.

As you stand there, captivated and petrified by the unfamiliar futuristic cityscape stretching out before you, an unshakeable feeling of being watched prickles at the back of your neck. A shiver runs down your spine, sending a wave of unease coursing through your veins; instinctively, you turn around, your heart pounding in your chest.

In that split second, a shadowy figure descends from above with startling speed, and before you can react, a needle glints in the dim light, plunging into your arm. A sharp sting jolts through your body as the tranquilizer takes effect, swiftly robbing you of your senses.

“I told you to stay put.” You faintly hear the same female voice from earlier echoing from behind you.

With a last desperate gasp for breath, you try to stay conscious, fighting against the overpowering sedation. But it's a futile struggle; your body slowly succumbs to the tranquilizer's grip, and you sink into unconsciousness.

As your vision fades and your mind drifts away, you catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure standing over you. Their features remain obscured, concealed by the darkness and the adrenaline coursing through your veins, but you are able to discern the familiar sight in front of you.

A final thought echoes in your fading consciousness, and you let out one last whisper before the darkness claims you completely.

“...Spiderman?”

............................................................................................................

Hope you enjoyed! More on A03 !!

Ch. 02 Here

[lemurlegs]

Bewitched

Hi people, I'm back with a new chapter. This one is a little short compared to the others, but don't worry the next chapter is going to be long, but it is taking me some time to write it since I'm trying to establish some rules in my fic. So this chapter is more of a lore dump on how certain things work. The next one will also be lore heavy, but more focusing on our character. Anyways enjoy!

Wordcount: 3.6k

Previous chapter

Warning: none i think?

Chapter 4.

Unveiling The Mysteries

An Ultimate Guide To Demon Magic.

Written by Anonymous, 1994

Chapter 1. - The birth of demon magic

After Lucifer fell from heaven, a horde of angels loyal to his ideas fell with him. These fallen angels despised their holy nature and sought out the primordial Darkness that governed Hell before their arrival, pleading with her to transform them into beings as dark as she was.

The Darkness complied, twisting them into entities of corruption. The leading six angels became the first demons, who then went on to become the Princes of Hell, ruling over the rings.

After transforming the princes, the Darkness corrupted the rest of the angels, turning them into the first succubi, imps, hellhounds, and other demonic beings. She gave these new creatures the ability to reproduce and granted them a fragment of her magic, urging them to populate Hell. From these demons, the rest of the hellborns emerged.

In time, the first sinners began arriving. Within a few years, mortal souls outnumbered the hellborn demons. Initially, these creatures coexisted relatively peacefully, but mortal souls grew envious of their hellborn counterparts who possessed demon magic. However, sinners had one significant advantage: they couldn't die permanently. A sinner's soul would always regenerate after being broken.

Using their overwhelming numbers and unkillable nature, the sinners rose up against the hellborns and successfully defeated them.

As the sinners began hunting down the hellborns, the hellborn population started to dwindle. In response, the six princes and Lucifer decided to confine the sinners to a single ring, recognizing their power-hungry nature. Lucifer chose his own ring, Pride, to house the mortal souls.

Outraged, the sinners began destroying the Pride ring, demanding their authority back. When Lucifer refused to yield, the sinners eventually accepted their fate.

Over centuries, the sinners turned to controlling one another. They discovered they could trade souls, gaining the ability to control others at will. By harnessing the power of souls, they finally achieved what they sought: demon magic.

This type of demon magic differed from that of the hellborns, as it required manipulating a small scale of soul magic to function.

Over centuries, sinners seemed to evolve in ways no one could fully understand. Some began to fall to Hell with inherent abilities, without needing to acquire souls. Typically possessing one or two abilities, these demons had an initial advantage over others and became the first overlords.

Gradually, it became common for sinners to arrive in Hell with some form of magic. In recent years, almost every sinner has fallen with some magical ability, though usually only one or two. Despite this change, the amount of power granted upon death remains limited.

Many demons began speculating and studying their history to understand the source of these powers. Some theories suggested evolution, while others believed the Darkness was responsible…

Chapter 4. What is the soul and how does it make a sinner stronger?

In the realm of biology, the soul is seen as a powerful force present in all living beings. It's often described as pure energy, and it resides in a small space between the ribs.

Souls can greatly enhance an individual's power if enough are collected. These are typically obtained through agreements known as soul-binding deals.

When a demon acquires a soul, their abilities get stronger. And as they gather more souls, they unlock new magical abilities. This process of collecting demon souls is key to understanding the extent of one's powers.

Once you gain a soul, there's a subtle shift, almost imperceptible, as its essence integrates into your own. As the connection solidifies, a sense of empowerment washes over you, a tangible manifestation of the soul's influence.

As an individual accumulates demon souls, the process of integration becomes increasingly intricate, leading to profound changes in their magical capabilities. Each soul, with its unique essence and energy signature, acts as a catalyst for unlocking latent potential within the individual.

The integration of a demon soul initiates a complex alchemical process within the individual's being. Initially, there is a subtle but palpable shift in their magical resonance as the foreign energy merges with their own. This fusion sets off a chain reaction, as the energies of the soul and the individual intertwine and harmonize.

As more souls are collected, this process of integration becomes more pronounced, amplifying the individual's magical aura and expanding their repertoire of abilities. The combined energies of multiple souls create a synergistic effect, enhancing the individual's control over various aspects of magic.

Chapter 12. - How to discover your demon powers?

To unlock your demonic powers upon arrival in Hell, there are essential steps to take for optimal results:

Self-reflection is paramount. Start by delving into your past life on Earth. Consider your strengths, weaknesses, and the aspects of your identity that define you. Reflect on your deeds, your associations, and the circumstances of your demise. What were your greatest achievements? What sins weighed heaviest on your soul? These questions can offer valuable insights into the nature of your potential demonic abilities.

Next, focus on raising your energy levels. Developing heightened awareness and sensitivity to magical energies requires dedicated practice. Engage in regular meditation sessions to quiet the mind and attune yourself to the subtle vibrations of the spiritual realm. Through meditation, you can cultivate a deeper connection to the energies that surround you, paving the way for a clearer understanding of your demonic powers.

Here are some other tips to help with your discovery:

Take the time to explore the diverse environments of Hell and experiment with different rituals, incantations, and magical techniques. Engage with other inhabitants, seek out knowledge from experienced practitioners.

Be open to trial and error as you seek to uncover your powers. Not every attempt may yield immediate results, but each experience can offer valuable insights and lessons learned. Embrace failure as a natural part of the learning process and remain persistent in your quest for mastery.

Explore the realms of dreams and astral projection as avenues for discovering your latent abilities. During dream states, the barriers between the conscious and subconscious mind are weakened, allowing for deeper exploration of your innermost self and potentials…

With a surge of excitement, you slam the book shut, springing up from the bed.

"That's it!" you exclaim to yourself.

A dream spell—it's the answer. With it, you could easily uncover your latent abilities. If demon magic truly came from The Darkness, or as you know her as Mona, The Moon Goddess, then some lucid dreaming and a talk with her can be extremely helpful. Maybe she knows how to break the curse.

The book mentioned raising energy, but let's be real, yours is already plenty high. I mean, you've been at this for nearly 500 years. Yeah, your energy is more than raised enough.

As you gather the necessary ingredients for the spell—Chamomile tea, dried lavender, and a few words of Latin—you realize an hour has passed since your return from shopping. You've been so immersed in the book that you completely forgot about unpacking all the items you bought.

You approach the bags containing clothes and toiletries, setting about organizing them and putting everything away. Once that task is complete, you retrieve the phone Angel insisted you buy. His warning echoes in your mind.‘Make sure not to have the phone around Alastor.’

What the hell does that even mean?

As you finish organizing most of your belongings, you turn your attention to the remaining bags. Carefully unpacking the supplies, you arrange them on a small desk in your room. Setting out the altar cloth, divination tools, jars of herbs, candles, and crystals, you create a sacred space for your rituals and spellwork. Fresh grimoires and other books find their place among the items, ready for reference and study.

Turning to the little dressers on the opposite side of your bed, you remove the nightlights and adorn each dresser with an altar cloth, beginning to construct your deity altars. One for Mona, the Moon Goddess, and one for Fenja, the Huntress Goddess—your two main deities.

With the leftover supplies and items, you decide to stow them under your bed. Yet, a chilling realization dawns upon you. While you can secure your door against unwanted visitors, Alastor's ability to shadow warp means locked doors offer little protection. It's best to keep him from seeing your room.

You resolve to secure your door both magically and physically. Walking over to your altar, you grasp the ritual knife resting upon it. With careful precision, you draw the blade across your palm, creating a shallow cut, allowing a little blood to well up.

Approaching the door, you begin to inscribe the locking sigil—a complex pattern known only to you, designed to keep out unwanted intruders. With each stroke, you imbue the sigil with your intent, infusing it with protective energy.

“Mea voluntate hoc ostium obligo; Clausum et obsignatum nullum introitum ad inveniendum.”

As you spoke those words, the sigil you drew began to glow with a violet hue, sealing the door with powerful magic.

It's reassuring that your magic works even here in Hell. While you're on the quest to discover your demon powers, it's a comfort not to feel completely powerless.

As you step away from the door to tend to your wound, you're interrupted by frantic knocking.

Seriously? Now?—you think to yourself, wrapping a cloth around your hand before swinging the door open just enough to peer out.

Standing before you is Charlie, her face beaming with a big smile.

"Hi, sorry to bother you, but today's group activity is about to start, and I'd love it if you could join us," Charlie says, her voice eager.

"Group activity?" you respond, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"Yes, group activities are supposed to help with rehabilitating sinners to get them into Heaven. At least, that's the theory," she adds with a nervous laugh.

"Oookay," you reply, processing the information. "Um, listen, I'll be down in a second, okay? Just need to finish something."

"Sure, take all the time you need. We'll be downstairs in the living room," Charlie says, turning around and practically skipping with joy as she heads downstairs.

You scoff at the idea of getting into heaven. "I'd rather die again," you think to yourself.

Heaven is... well, let's just say you're perfectly fine with living in Hell. You don't exactly agree with heaven, and you have some terrible history with them.

Shaking off the thoughts of your past, you remind yourself it's best not to dwell on it. You walk towards your altar and pick up some yarrow leaves, squeezing them onto your cut to stop the bleeding. After a few moments, the bleeding stops. You proceed to clean the wound before heading downstairs.

By the time you arrive, everyone is already gathered in the living room, with the exception of Alastor. Not that you mind; while you don't have anything against him, you're cautious around someone who owns your soul, especially considering what you've read about him.

You make your way towards the group, who are sitting on the floor in a circle. Spotting Angel, who's engrossed in his phone, you head over to him. As he sees you approaching, he quickly puts his device away and greets you with a wide smile.

"Heyya, toots, finally decided to join the brainwashing?" Angel greets you with a smirk.

Vaggie shoots him a glare in response to his comment.

"Yeah, I suppose," you reply, deciding to play along. "By the way, how's your eye?" you ask, genuine concern lacing your words.

He waves you off. "I'll be fine. It was my fault, I ran into that lamppost," Angel responds, shooting you a look, silently asking you to go along with it.

"Yeah, quite clumsy of you," you agree, as Husk leans forward, interjects into the conversation.

"He seriously ran into a lamppost? It looks more like he got beat up or something. You sure it was a lamppost?" Husk questions, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yep, lamppost," you quickly confirm, covering for your friend.

Husk doesn't seem entirely convinced, but he doesn't press further.

"Alright, everyone, it's time for today’s group activity! Yay!" Charlie exclaims with enthusiasm, though her energy is met with awkward silence and uninterested faces.

She laughs a little, seemingly embarrassed, before standing up and clapping her hands together. Taking a moment to look over everyone, she begins, "Today's activity—I think it would be great if we talked a little bit about ourselves. Since we have a new resident, let's start with a simple one: What got you in Hell?"

At that question, everyone seemed to withdraw a little. While some began to explain their situations, you start to realize you have no idea what got you in Hell. I mean, you had plenty to choose from, but which one was the one that sealed your fate? You had no clue.

As your turn came for the circle confession, Alastor suddenly manifested from the shadows.

Charlie turned to him with excitement. "Hey, Al! Welcome back. We were just starting today's exercise. Would you like to join?"

"Actually, dear, I have something I nee—" Before he could decline, Charlie began explaining today's exercise.

"We're going to talk about our past! Ginger was just about to explain why she ended up in hell!" she exclaimed.

At that, Alastor's smile widened as he looked at you. "Well, I suppose I can make some time."

With that, he walked towards the group circle and sat down on the couch. Crossing his legs, Alastor locked eyes with you.

"Go on, dear. Don't stop on my account," he said with an amused smirk.

"Well, I've been thinking it over while everyone else got their turn, but I genuinely don't know what got me here," you admit.

At this, Alastor raises an eyebrow, seemingly confused by your answer, considering he remembers you telling him that you manipulated men and most probably murdered them too.

"What do you mean, Ginger?" asks Charlie.

"I don't think I'm innocent or something; I just don't know which of my sins got me here," you explain with a shrug.

“Well list a few of ya sins toots, mabe we can figure it out togetha’” Angel interjects.

"Ohoho, only if you want to stay here for a few hours; that's quite the long list to go over," you joke, having a good laugh at the idea. Unbeknownst to you, the group's faces wear a dreadful expression, while Alastor seems particularly delighted by your response.

"Oookay, let's move on," said Charlie, quickly moving to the next question. "Um, okay, what are three things you're really good at or just particularly enjoyed doing?"

“Sucking dick, snorting drugs and sleeping all day” Says Angel proudly. You couldn't help but giggle, though you noticed Alastor's disgusted look, hidden behind his smile. You had to admit, the guy was really committed to the whole smiley bit.

"Thank you, Angel, let's move on," Charlie quickly interjects with a nervous laugh. "Anyone else?"

Silence ensues.

“Oookay I guess I'll go then. I really enjoy singing, drawing and making new friends”

You can't help but find her adorable. It's hard to believe she's the princess of Hell.

"Who's next?" Charlie asks, breaking the silence.

Husk groans. "Fine, I'll go. Better to get it over with now," he mutters before clearing his throat. "I like cheap booze, poker, and magic."

At that, you light up. "Magic, you say? What kind of magic?"

"Like card tricks and illusions," Husk replies.

"Oh, uh, well, I'd love to see it sometime," you say, a little disappointed.

"You can show me some magic anytime, Pussycat," says Angel flirtatiously, leaning into Husk's personal space. Husk promptly shoves him away, hurling a list of profanities his way.

As everyone explains what they enjoy most, there are only two left: you and Alastor.

“Alright toots, you're up”

"Okay. Well, let's see. I really like history, particularly the 1920s. I enjoy reading, and I like singing." You explain. Let's just say you liking history is more so because you lived through a lot of it. You did some fuuuun things in the roaring twenties.

Now that sure got Alastor's attention.

"Hmm, I suppose it's my turn, isn't it?" Alastor muses. "Let's see, I quite enjoy tormenting souls, jazz music, and cooking."

Everybody grows quiet at that answer.

"Okay, that's, um, good for now, I suppose. You're all free to go," says Charlie as everybody starts leaving. That's when you realize Alastor didn't answer the first question. Curiosity piqued, you stopped everyone.

"Wait, Alastor, you didn't answer the first question. What got you in Hell?" you inquire, feeling a surge of curiosity.

If you thought the awkward silent pauses that happened tonight were bad, then you had another thing coming, because the whole group looked at you as if you had a death wish. And while cautious, you wouldn't say you were afraid of Alastor.

With a snap, his neck bent in an unnatural way.

"My, my, quite bold, are we?" he said, his tone laced with amusement. "Well, if you must know, I was a serial killer in the 1920s, cleaning the streets of New Orleans. I'm quite certain that's why I'm here."

You give him a smile.

"Thank you for sharing, though I don't see what's so wrong in cleaning up the world from vile, disgusting people," you say, looking up at him. Craning your head to look at the tall demon, you give him an innocent-looking smile.

The whole group stands wide-eyed, jaws on the floor at your interaction. Even Alastor seems shocked, but more happy shocked than disturbed shocked.

With that you inform everyone that you'll see them tomorrow. Before you go to sleep though, you go to the kitchen to make your cup of tea. And also to catch a few bites.

You select a mug adorned with a little fox design, evidently made just for you. Cute.

As you begin making the beverage, you sense a strange, dark energy manifesting behind you. You had felt it this morning too, when Alastor appeared behind you, and when he shadow warped you back to the hotel. So naturally, you call out to him with your body turned away, hoping to catch him off guard as he's likely planning to do the same.

"Hello, Alastor, fancy seeing you here," you say, still completely facing away.

"Well, hello to you too, darling. How did you know I was behind you?" he asks, surprised. Ha, got him.

"Lucky guess, I suppose," you reply, though in truth, it's more like centuries worth of experience and raised vibrations.

He hums at your response. "I actually want to ask something from you, dear."

"Shoot," you say.

"Pardon?" he asks, confused.

"I mean, go ahead. What did you want to ask?" you clarify.

"Ah, yes, of course. I need you to pick up some fresh cuts of meat from the butcher for me tomorrow. I'll write down the address for you," he says, snapping his fingers, and a notepad and pen appear in his hand.

Your eyes widened at that. Conjuration—wow, it's like this guy got all the cool powers Hell can offer.

"Okay, but why do you need me to get it for you?" you ask skeptically, raising an eyebrow at the demon. This felt like a trap, or at least like it wasn't just for the purpose of getting a slab of meat.

"Well, you certainly ask a lot of questions, dear. Don't you know curiosity killed the cat?" he responds as he leaned forward, now invading your personal space, inches from your face.

"Yes, but satisfaction brought it back," you quip back at him, not even flinching at his closeness.

At that response, you see Alastor getting visibly irritated. Antlers elongate, his smile stretches to unnatural lengths, and his eyes darken, pupils changing to radio dials.

"It would be in your best interests to do what I tell you without question," he warns, smile turning into more of a snarl.

You stand there unfazed; you've certainly seen scarier displays than some deer man throwing a tantrum. He might own your soul, but you're not going to let him walk all over you.

"Sure, whatever you say," you shrug, as you turn away from him and back to your sandwich, still unamused at his antics.

He returns to his normal form, slightly confused by your lack of fear. Then he turns to pick up the notebook and pen and scribbles something on the note. Tearing the page off, he hands you the paper.

"Pick it up by 9 and put it in the fridge. You don't need to worry about money; it's already paid," he instructs.

With that, he melts into the shadows, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

You eat the sandwiches you made as you take your piping hot tea up to your room. You reach your door, placing your hand over the place where the sigil is. Focusing your energy, you unlock it in mere seconds. As you close your door, you turn towards your altar, placing some dried lavender in your tea, preparing the drink for the spell. Taking the bundle of dried rosemary, you use your magic to light a small purple flame to burn it. You take the bundle and cleanse your room, your bed, your cup, and yourself. Then, you take the little spoon and mix it clockwise, drawing in the energy you're manifesting. With that, you begin your incantation.

"Somnia cosmica, nunc decerno;

Evigila, anima mea libera.

In somnis amplexu, conscientia video."

With that, you start sipping your tea. A foggy, cloud-like energy surrounds your mind, and you begin feeling incredibly tired. You chug the tea down, already feeling its effects.

After a quick bath and your nightly routine, exhaustion overtakes you. You slip into your cozy king-sized bed, dressed in your red sheer nightgown with fluffy furry trims, and you fall asleep within seconds.

As you drift off, you anticipate the journey ahead, eager to discover what you're truly capable of.

[captaincaptainfisher]

Hello! Welcome to the chapter of the growth records where I try very hard to write SOC as aro/ace without falling to the "he's a robot who doesn't understand normal biological stuff" trope. I pray I did ok (and please tell me if I didn't) (also sex mention ig)

Growth records, entry 15.

First, an update on the pups.

At a few cycles old, they have both opened their eyes and begun crawling around. They have made a few attempts to walk upright and even managed a few steps, but they're still rather unsteady on their feet. Their personalities have remained consistent. The blue one is loud and confident, exploring further into my structure and on occasion needing to be corralled back by Socks. The grey one is much calmer and quieter, sticking closer to his guardian and watching curiously when I work. I am still brainstorming names... I am determined to do better than Socks.

The pup grown from the white tuft remains in vitro. I can make out very little of its features from outside the machine looking in, but it seems to be a little smaller than the others were at birth. Its heartbeat is very weak, but slowly getting stronger... I believe it will survive to birth, but suspect some form of deformity or defect has occurred during development.

Socks has spent a significant amount of time by the machine lately, staring at the fetal pup. I hope, for his sake, that it makes it.

Now... onto some rather exciting recent events.

Socks has been exploring the structure with the pups, teaching them about life and the creatures there and *especially* about pole mimic plants. They've been learning rather quickly... just like he did.

At one point, he took them back through the portal. To see it? To learn? To meet their "source material"? I do not know. But...

Well, to add some context, he rushed into the portal after I made the discovery that the machine not only produced slugpups, but theoretically, could produce adults as well. Socks was halfway out the door already as I was wondering how this would work...

He returned several hours later with two identically grey pieces of fur, and as I attempted to put the machine to work, the reasoning for his haste became clear.

The machine did indeed do as I expected- sped past the fetal stage in a matter of minutes, zoomed through adolescence, and in a manner of hours, two adult female slugcats emerged from the machine.

Their bodies are mostly grey, with an identical purple stripe down their backs. Their fronts have a more interesting pattern that extends from their muzzles down to their bellies, with more stripes of the same colour on their arms and legs. One has these patterns in a light pink, the other yellow. They are very similar in body structure as well as in colour, both being a fair bit smaller than Socks (though he is rather larger than average, so I don't believe this is a trait of their sex) with short, round snouts and long, thick tails.

After a brief period of disorientation upon exiting the artificial wombs, they immediately began interacting with Socks with an air of familiarity and friendliness. They seemed to recognise each other, which has very interesting implications for the use of my machine.

Firstly, the way they act with Socks is enough to lead me to believe they have retained the memories from whoever the fur belonged to before Socks brought it to me. I'm going to have to carefully monitor the pups as they grow to see if they also remember anything of a previous life elsewhere. I'm also going to look over the blueprints of the machine again... There were several times during assembly when the reasons for doing things didn't make sense to me as I followed the instructions. Hidden in one of these confusing moments must be an answer to how an entire personhood can be transferred through only the DNA in a scrap of fur.

Secondly, the way they act with Socks is teaching me more about their species.... And perhaps what a neglectful caregiver I have been.

My only previous experience with romantic companionship was from observing the ancients and other iterators. I never saw much need for it. I had iterator friends, even an ancient or two I was close with, and their friendship was something that gave me the will and the way to keep going during some of my darkest moments. But I never had any desire to kiss them, or have them be one person more special to me than anybody else. Some other iterators built romantic relationships with each other, but as we're all stuck in our cans, it only seemed to make them more lonely missing each other.

In a similar vein of things, some iterators were created with the ability to copulate, and some were not. The ones that were had more frequent visits from the ancients, and I occasionally heard the ones that weren't wishing that they were. It always seemed odd and unnecessary to me. Like many, the Karma 2 mural was painted on my old structure, and I often instructed my overseers to avoid it so I would not have the strange visual.

I have mentioned before that I occasionally forgot that Socks required food when he was a pup, due to myself having no need for it.

In a similar way, due to my own complete disinterest, I never considered that he might desire a romantic or sexual partner. I thought of companionship, but assumed that I would be enough of a friend to him to cover that basis, though I never imagined we would form an actual bond.

But his excitement at finally having others close to his age to interact with... It tells me I might have been wrong.

He treats them both with similar levels of affection, and they have both quickly bonded with and assumed mutual care of the pups.

The one in pink seems very cheerful, and has been quite excited to explore my structure and play with both Socks and the pups. The one in yellow has been much more mellow (if you'll pardon the rhyme) and seems to get on well with the grey pup. She has been quietly observing me for some time... I have not yet given them the mark of communication, so I know she is not listening to me, but she seems to be doing her best.

I'm glad that Socks is not lonely anymore... Though I may have to make some accommodations to my structure for the increasing slugcat population.

And get better at thinking of names.

Recording ends.

[writingonjorvik]

The After Stories

So I was musing to myself about how I thought narratively the Soul Riders were most likely to be set up as more cyclical characters for what I think the next major story arc is most likely to be, what I called the Witch Wars arc in this ask response, and I ended up doing more than the Soul Riders, so I figured I'd share those thoughts.

I'll start with the Soul Riders since I've put the most thought into their arcs, also they're the most important characters right now, so it makes the most sense. I really only think one of the Soul Riders should be in the next story arc as a major character, for a number of reasons, though I doubt that'll be the case. I'm also following the assumption that, based on what we've been told in plot about severing the connection between Pandoria and Jorvik meaning the Soul Riders will lose their powers, that after Garnok is defeated, the connection Aideen created with Pandoria is cut and they don't have magic, or they only have whatever magic is left.

Easiest first, Lisa. I think Lisa is going to return to her music career and take time to recover. Personally, I think the writers need a step back from Lisa. She went from being what I had always thought was the leader of the group in SSL (and in the books) to her country redesign and her being largely the party healer. And I think there is a really good story arc to have there. Not to lean into the trope that metal and rock are symbolic of rebellious phases, but I think there's a story you can tell about the eras of Lisa's music genres being reflections of her stages of grief, the more punk genres being her rage followed by her return to country music as acceptance, a connection with her mother, and a way to maintain that connection as she processes that grief. I think a lot of folks will conflate stadium & pop country with classic country music which does also hold a lot of punk values which sets her up for a return, but I also think a step back from Lisa post all of the crazy would give her time to recover and take that symbolism and make it material. So I think she should take a more minor role in the next story arc.

Second easiest, Linda should not be a major player in the Witch Wars arc. Firstly, Linda is arguably the Soul Rider we've spent the most time with. It makes sense why, she's an easy lore dump character, but that also is a reason why in it of itself. If Linda is always our source of worldbuilding, there isn't an opportunity for other characters to provide information that feels relevant, and also it takes that opportunity away from the player character to discover in their own exploration. But the biggest reason I think is that Linda has probably had the least amount of time to pursue her own personal goals. There is absolutely a story there to tell about how major achievement is a personal scale, you don't need to achieve the world in order to be successful, but I don't think that's a story SSO will tell and it also falls a little flatter when Linda is part of the team that did save the world from Garnok. But comparably, Linda has the least amount of achievement to her name. Like, imagine being able to see the future, not to mention be unquestionably intelligent, with very clear goals of going to university and pursuing your interests and expanding your skills as a writer, saving the world and then watching all of your friends' dreams of reality come true. Visions made material. Lisa's music career, Anne's success as a dressage rider, a model, going on to be a vet, Alex being set up to take over a culturally significant organization (which I'll come back to), and you. Seeing all of it, and never getting there. And then the visions start to go away. There was already the moral question of could Linda use her powers to cheat, not that she would, but I imagine the guilt of the idea probably prevented her from pursuing entry exams because, she could. See the future to see the exam answers to study perfectly. And the fear of it prevents her from applying. And now her powers are leaving, she has the chance to be honest about it again. To provide she was more than her role as the Moon Soul Rider. She deserves to take it and come back to the story a more fulfilled person.

Alex has a good opportunity to be semi-present. She has been set up to take Elizabeth's place and with the defeat of Garnok, there's finally enough breathing room to do so. Yes, I'm sure the druids will be thrown into more ordeals with the fallout of their magic, which leads into the Witch Wars and pursuing answers there, but someone has to take up the mantle now that the chaos of Garnok is passed. And we were told that was Alex. It's a huge responsibility shift for her too, one she's going to have to learn on the job. I'm sure she'll receive help but it's not like she can go to school for how to be the leader of a magical organization. And it's not like her predecessor is there to guide her. There's also the existing tradition that she's breaking by taking Elizabeth's place as the Lightning Soul Rider becoming the Keeper's leader, where the Sun Soul Rider would normally take that place. But these are unprecedented times, the druids are losing a major part of their magic, so maybe it's time for a change. I think that sets Alex up well to be both present in the story, as the leader of the druids supporting us, the PC, going to learn more about witch magic to help the druids, but also take a step back. She has to stay in Valedale now, be a present leader and coordinator. But of course, it's Alex, she's bound to show up for big confrontations.

Which leaves Anne as the last Soul Rider. And I think she remains present. She's the Soul Rider we got the least amount of time with, but she also has the least reason to settle down. She still has a lot of grief to process from her imprisonment. And, as I said in my last post, I don't think we will kill the Generals. They might die in losing Garnok as like, their life source, but I don't think we will kill them directly. I'll get more into them later, but at the very least, I think Darko survives and Sands dies. And that right there sets Anne up perfectly. In a post Garnok world, in a world without magic, and the man chiefly responsible for her imprisonment is still out there. If anyone is going to be desperate for her magic back, it's Anne. There is still an angry part of her that cannot rest, and so when magic starts to fade and the PC pursues answers with the witches, Anne is right there. Not to mention, if we do get a new quadrant of the map, portal magic would be great for teleporting in and then reconnecting physically after main story shenanigans through North Link. But particularly after we've seen Anne proving she's not only back, but she's among some of the most powerful Sun Soul Riders in history, losing that would be devastating. Anne pursues answers about magic, and is our primary ally moving forward from the original cast.

Also in all of this, the Guardians. We don't know if in losing their Soul Rider powers the Guardians survive (I think they will), but we don't know if the Soul Riders will be able to talk to them. Like does Aideen's Gift maintain itself. Of all the Soul Riders, Anne probably has the most experience of not being able to talk to her horse, and so I see her thriving in this condition of still being able to connect with Concorde in a way none of the other Soul Riders can because of her time working with Concorde as a foal. And I see that causing a rift with the Soul Riders too as suddenly Anne is the odd man out again, and now that their grief in losing that particular connection is broken, there is some true feelings coming out about how they expect Anne to help in a way she only ever got resistance or correction for feeling with Concorde.

Quick ones off the list next:

Fripp goes to sleep. I don't know if he dies, I think he probably like. Does whatever Aideen did and fades into the magic of the world. I think he comes back, but without the connection to Pandoria, he can't maintain his consciousness without more magic. It also gets him off the table for the same reasons I think Linda should back seat, he knows too much and that takes away from the player's ability to discover.

Avalon dedicates himself to supporting Alex in taking over the leadership role. He's more confident now and speaks up for her against the rest of the council and commits himself as her primary ally and mentor within the druids.

Evergray is going back to the North with us. Without a connection to Pandoria, he is still a magic researcher. Possibly even tasked with finding another connection back to Pandoria, which leads to whatever he was doing in the North. He also has the most connection with witches there.

Rhiannon is also going back to the North. She's a Warden, she knows more about magic outside of the Circles from her proximity to the witches, and the Wardens aren't, kinda aren't, are something other than druids. Not to mention, if the connection with Pandoria cuts off magic and possibly losing Aideen's Gift, Rhiannon is the most set up to help reestablish this connection. I think it will, it's Aideen's Gift to Jorvik, it was her own magic, but there's a plot there to connection with the Wardens.

Ydris leaves. I know he's the game's Internet sexy man, but we've honestly seen very little of him since Fripp's recovery and we know his goal is to save his home. If the connection is broken, Ydris goes home to Pandoria. He can return in a later arc, with I think what would be fitting, a redesign of his original model since time is soup there, but I see very little for him to do in a witch arc unless he can't make it back home, which does have potential in him being a begrudging ally as he's made like. Semi-human from being cut off from Pandoria.

Mrs. Holdsworth and Sive are obvious, it's called the Witch Wars arc, they would be joining as major characters. Great opportunity too to introduce Marzipan from concept work from forever ago here as our young witch companion.

I think Justin should get a baby arc just to give him a better ending. He should go train with the Wild Whispers before going to train with Herman.

Speaking of Herman, he comes back briefly because his brother, Coyote, is in northwest Jorvik, so that gives us a connection into the not magic stories and exploring the cities there. Also, that sets up CHILL to come in with GED and we can have that semi-mundane arc too.

On to bad guys!

GED first, there's no reason why these guys wouldn't be back or even thriving without DC competing with them. They're low stakes bad guys, they've been basically run out of southwest Jorvik, they're very likely to be back in a new region.

I already said it, Mr. Sands dies. Look, his wife is dead, the devil he made a pact with dies, and he was human. There is no reason that he survives unless we get the redemption arcs I've discussed before happen, which are not remotely set up in the story. The man is death flagged, I don't make the rules. Turns to dust, bye.

Darko survives. I think having Darko be less present now means he can be set up to do the whole take over the vacuum when Sands is gone. Maybe he sees the writing on the wall, this is a kids' game and Garnok is going to lose. So he stops trying to go for Sands and bides his time. And when that happens, guess who steps in. A magic inventor with the remnants of resources to continue to be a problem and no competition anymore to do so. The rest of DC is goons, now he gets to horde a black market of magic to himself. DC dissolves, all the assets relocated before charges could be pressed. No charges to press on a dissolved company, the leading members of the board dead in a freak accident of their own making, there's no one there to hold responsbile. And Darko wasn't a General, he was just their inventor, conveniently missing from records, assumed dead, ready to be a main antagonist in the next arc under a new evil corporation.

I don't think all the Dark Riders die. The least likely is Erissa. She has gone through so many iterations just to finally get released, Erissa survives. Escapes capture even. Blends in, disappears, starts whispering into powerful ears. She becomes a problem. She also looks like a kid, they're not going to kill her for a slew of age rating reasons.

Because that's the thing, the Dark Riders aren't human. They're different kinds of aliens, by our best guesses. From different worlds too. Katja's ice world and Sabine's dark star are not the same places. If anyone survives the break from the pact with Garnok, it's these four.

Jessica is iffy, she is arguably the least developed. Of any of the Dark Riders to team up with Darko, I see it being Jessica. She reads as having a need for control, and suddenly cut off from her magic, either from being more injured than the others or the loss of the portals powered by Pandoria's magic, I think a reluctant deal with Darko for some scraps of magic to survive, that's where Jessica lands.

Katja leaves. She does not care about people. Of anyone in the story to become a permanent cryptid, it's Katja. She just goes back to being the Ice Witch of Icendell, if not through that portal. She's here because of her pact with Garnok, I see no reason for her to stay. She isolates herself until she can recover enough power to be a menace again.

Sabine is difficult but I see her as the character the community most wants to have a redemption arc (for various reasons), as well as the story setting up the most for a redemption arc, but I don't know if SSO would go there. Sabine has a riding club, she's made connections, however trivial to her now, on Jorvik. And something else, she's discovered a new kind of power, one she could never possess on her Dark Star home. People, control over people, working together to achieve more power. There is no civilization to control back home, it's a world of beasts, hunters, predators, there is no civilization, nothing to control, just survival. There are here. And so while I see her probably still being fairly narcissistic about it, I also see a story where Sabine recognizes that she can only have that kind of authority if she protects this new home. Very Greed from FMA kind of character twist. So she is a partial ally then, but it opens the door for more opportunities of, maybe not altruism, but more potential for good.

I think that's everyone who's a primary NPC. But let me know who I missed. Or if you think otherwise.

[lefresne]

What I have never understood about Galahad is Why does he need to be Lancelot's son? Why does Galahad need to be born by Rape? And Why and HOW on earth can Elaine be the Grail Bearer and still commit an obvious sin?

(tw for issues related to rape)

Oh anon, this is one of the great mysteries of Arthuriana. Even more puzzling is the fact that by the end of the twelfth-century there already was a Grail hero: Perceval! In fact, early prose romances, building on Chrétien’s poem, will keep Perceval as Grail hero (ie. The Perlesvaus and the Didot-Perceval, an early prose cycle that includes a prehistory of the Grail, a prose Grail Quest, and a version of the Mort), but for some reason by the 1230s, a few significant developments have occurred: Lancelot’s lineage is ‘attached’ to Joseph of Arimathea’s and the name ‘Galahad’ is introduced for the first time. The best essay on the subject is Emmanuèle Baumgartner’s chapter in The Lancelot Grail Cycle: Text and Transformation, ‘From Lancelot to Galahad: The Stakes of Filiation’. Broadly, it argues that the introduction of the character of Galahad is answering to both narrative and textual issues: principally, how to reconcile widely divergent textual traditions that one ‘inherits’ in order to produce a single, coherent ‘cycle’. The medieval ‘cycle’ is itself responding to a desire for ‘total’ encyclopaedic knowledge of Arthurian history, and this desire for accumulating a frankly disorientating amount of textual material was in fact very characteristic of the period. As to why is has to be Lancelot specifically, it might just have to do with the fact that the prior textual sources establish him as the 'best' knight so it would have been prestigious to have him as a father. Unfortunately, within the ideological framework outlined in earlier Grail narratives (notably its emphasis on chastity), Lancelot must be ‘sacrificed’, punished, and violated in order for these disparate textual elements to ‘fit’. He cannot be the Grail hero because of his prior textual inheritance, the only ‘solution’ (and I am putting HUGE quotation marks here) is to fall back on a trope common the chivalric romance which is that narrative progresses along the same lines as heterosexual reproduction (which is itself a fantasy but that’s for another time YIKES). The character of Lancelot has to be ‘rewritten’ into Galahad (and this is a trope that is super prevalent throughout the PL and Vulgate Cycle, all Lancelot’s ancestors have the same names and seem to be like weird, uncanny echoes of each other). In other words, if you're thinking that the introduction of Galahad is incoherent, it's because it is - it's literally trying to make things that were not initially thought as fitting together, fit together through re-writing / over-writing.

I have the PDF of the chapter if you do not have institutional access, and I might be able to find a way to get it to you (hint hint nudge nudge). 

As for Elaine’s final fate, she is deemed unworthy of continuing to bear the Grail, and retires to a convent, and then dies. She does, however, briefly voice her resentment towards her father as she considers herself ‘diminished’ now that she is no longer a virgin (yikes).  

[charmedtodeath]

One Long Night | Graves/gn reader

Words: ~1.4k

TW/CW: mentions of death/violence, blood/injury

Summary: You survive a surprise ambush in the middle of winter and need to find a way to survive the night alone.

Read on AO3

a/n: y’all i am new to formatting posts on here so i’m sorry if anything is messed up!

As night falls and your extremities slowly begin to freeze, time is running out to find a way out of this that doesn't end with you turning into a popsicle. 

With your rifle gone and only three rounds left in your sidearm, you've got to make this count. Winter in Russia is unforgiving, and you curse yourself for volunteering for this mission. The comms systems have for sure been compromised at this point so there isn't any use in calling for help on your radio. It's just you, the snow, and your survival skills left.

This village looks like it's been abandoned for some time. The lights aren't on, and there's definitely nobody home. This will have to do for tonight. Either you can take your chances trying to find a place to hunker down until dawn, or surely freeze to death outside in the negative temperatures. Deciding on the former, you stick to stepping in the footprints someone else has already left behind to avoid being discovered in case whoever made them is still lurking around.

Your alarm bells go off when you spot dark stains in the snow. Even in the dim moonlight, it's clear that this mysterious someone has been through here recently and they're hurt. Following the trail of blood, it leads to the door of a house that is just as dark as the others. Maybe this person has moved on to somewhere else, or they're still inside. No way to know unless you check it out. Peeking in through the windows to make sure it's safe to enter, you slowly push open the door and inspect the area for booby traps, just in case they had time to be creative. It's what you'd do if you had the time and supplies.

After clearing all the rooms which you've found to be completely empty, you decide to check the last closed door in the house and discover it leads to a basement. Light washes over the bottom steps and you listen closely to figure out if the injured person you followed is dead or alive. You can hear a voice talking to itself- they're speaking English with an American accent, meaning someone from Shadow Company could have survived the ambush. Either that, or this is an elaborate trap to lure survivors from the attack. Readying your weapon, you open the door all the way to listen more easily.

You'd know that voice anywhere. Commander Graves. He somehow made it out alive, even though you'd sworn you saw him be killed back at the warehouse.

"Commander Graves, you're alive!" you whisper-shout into the space below you. He recognizes your voice immediately.

"Are you alone?"

"Yeah, it's only me. I don't know if anyone else made it out. I'm coming down the stairs," you warn him, taking each step slowly on your nearly frozen feet.

Stooping in the low-ceilinged basement, you make your way over to Graves in the corner who's propped himself against the wall and has wrapped up a leg wound. There wasn't a significant amount of blood outside, so he should be okay for now.

"Soldier, you're covered in blood. You been hit?" Looking down, you explain yourself.

"It's not mine. They were double tapping us but I managed to get underneath enough bod-"

"I understand, you don't have to go any further. I'm sorry things turned out this way. The intel said there hadn't been any patrols there in weeks. I should've seen this coming."

"It's not your fault, Commander. You did your best to try and save us. There's no such thing as a risk-free mission, sir."

"I'm still responsible for all of you. Here, sit down. Save your energy." You join Graves on the floor and look around the small basement lit up by a battery powered lantern. There's not much here that could help and no heat sources. Well, maybe one source other than yourself.

"How the hell are we going to get out of here, sir?"

"I'm still working on that. We'll have to sit tight until daylight or we'll freeze to death outside. You see anything in here that we could use?"

Taking the lantern, you crawl around the basement and swipe cobwebs out of the way to search for useful items. Other than some empty dust covered shelves, the only items in the room are a tarp rolled up with a bungee cord and a wooden box of folded up burlap sacks. They were probably filled with potatoes or other stored vegetables at some point, but it's been a while since they've last been used. The old owners probably won't mind if you and the Commander borrow them tonight.

"Commander, I think I just found our beds for tonight. Would you like the queen or deluxe king?"

"Glad to see you've still got your sense of humor despite this mess we're in." He sounds so down and defeated. You don't really see him like this very often unless something horrible has happened.

The tarp turns out to be huge, so you refold it a few times and spread it on the floor. It won't do much in the way of softness or keeping the cold from seeping up from the floor, but it's better than sleeping on bare concrete. A layer of burlap sacks is added next, and you divide the rest between yourself and Graves to use as makeshift blankets. Your odds of survival have gone up drastically now that you've found shelter and scraps of warmth.

According to Graves' watch that survived while yours got busted, there's still about seven hours until dawn. This is going to be one long night. You briefly take off your gloves and boots to check your fingers and toes for frostbite, but they look okay for now. A couple more hours in the snow and you might have been looking at an amputation or two. Graves seems to be in decent condition, too, except for his leg wound and some major bruising. At least your leader has survived with you and you're not alone. Together, you quietly mourn your lost teammates and vow to figure out exactly what went wrong with the mission.

Trying to get to sleep in freezing temperatures with only a gun to hold on to like a teddy bear is difficult, in a word. The Commander is almost completely silent on his side of the tarp and you can only hear the soft sounds of his breathing. After about two hours of tossing and turning, Graves has had enough of your rustling and finally says something.

"Soldier, I'm having a hard time staying asleep with all the ruckus and teeth chattering. What's the matter? I thought we trained you to fall asleep in all conditions."

"I'm sorry, sir. I think I'm afraid to fall asleep for fear of dying of hypothermia."

Graves sighs. "Get over here," he orders.

"What?"

"You heard me. There's no need to be shy in a life or death situation. Scoot on over, then." Well, if he's offering, you might as well take him up on the prospect of more warmth.

Wrapping up in the burlap sacks so you're rolled like a burrito, you slide along the tarp until you feel Graves' solid body behind you. Even in the chilled room, the man still manages to throw off more heat than you expected. It's deliciously warm and starts to sink all the way into your frozen bones.

"That better?" He throws one arm across your body and pulls you as close as he can manage until you're both pressed together in the corner. Your shivering gradually stops and soon, you're no longer shuddering from the cold. As awkward as it is to be cuddled up with your boss, it just might be keeping you alive through the night.

"Much better. Beats being frozen solid outside, I guess. Thank you, Commander."

"You don't have to call me that while we're stuck here, you know. It can wait until we're able to get out of here and regroup. You won't be reprimanded or anything like that."

"Okay, um, Phillip. Thank you." It feels strange for you to address your Commander by his first name. You'd always had the utmost respect for him and admired his steadfast leadership skills, but it's nice to see him soften a little. Who knew it would take almost dying for the big, bad Commander Graves to show this side of him?

As you finally relax enough to be able to get some rest, you feel Graves snuggle against you and it warms your heart just as much as it warms your body. Getting out of the basement and trying to find a way back home? That's a problem for you to figure out in the morning.

[freneticfloetry]

🌸🔪🛼

🌸 ⇢ do you have any pets? if you do, post some pictures of them

I do! I have a cat, who’s an utter pill and the very smolest bean and the uncontested love of my life. She had a birthday last week, which she shares with Josh Groban, and got tuna and a new kitty q-tip.

This is Chloe!

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

Maybe not the weirdest, but I did spend a significant amount of time researching where in England one might find a meat grinder large enough for a grown man to fall into. (And, you know, die.) It was for a Sherlock fic that’s still half-written on my hard drive.

They make it back to Baker Street two days later, with various scrapes and bruises and Sherlock's coat hung out for cleaning. Trailing Sherlock Holmes all over London is one thing. Traipsing after him through countless acres of farm country is entirely another. Sherlock has spent the past forty-eight hours searching for clues across half of Surrey Hills, spouting facts about farming equipment and rare breeds of cow. John has spent the past forty-eight hours trying to keep various local authorities from strangling Sherlock to death. By the time they'd followed the trail to its end — from crop fields in Wotton to an abattoir in West Horsley to a city farm on the south bank of the Thames — and put all the pieces in place ('seems an odd path for a plow, unless the intention was indeed "drunken crop circle"' and 'yes, how thoughtful of him to clean the equipment alone in the dead of night' and 'the herd sourced for the beef in question can't possibly be Gloucester cattle, look at the bone density of the carcass!'), John was weary and rank and about ready to swear off meat altogether.

Ah, the things we do for fiction.

🛼 ⇢ describe your latest wip with five emojis

🗣️ 🛏️ 💦 😚 💕

Play Writer Truth or Dare with me!

[rebeccathenaturalist]

How Clearcuts Cause Soil Erosion

Originally posted on my website at https://rebeccalexa.com/how-clearcuts-cause-soil-erosion/

I live within sight of the Willapa Hills. This mountain range, a contemporary of the Oregon Coast Range, stretches from the north bank of the Columbia River to the Olympic Mountains. As these are very old mountains–they began forming about 60 million years ago–they aren’t as tall and impressive as the Cascades. But they’re still a gorgeous sight, especially when snow falls at a low enough elevation to dust the gentle peaks.

They’re also one of the most heavily denuded mountain ranges on the west coast. All but a few small patches are in private hands and have been clearcut at least once. Old logging towns dot the area; as logging companies like Weyerhauser have sent timber overseas to be processed, most sawmills in the U.S. have closed down in recent decades. While the northern spotted owl (Strix occidentalis caurina) became the scapegoat in the 1990s, more jobs have been lost due to corporate decisions like these than to the protection of the last scraps of old-growth forest.

Driving across the Astoria-Megler bridge from Oregon, the beauty of the Columbia River Estuary is marred by bare, scarred hillsides everywhere you look on the Washington side. And the damage just continues as you head north up 101, which offers close-up views of land torn apart once again by recent clearcuts.

The main concern most people have with regards to clearcuts is the loss of the trees; after all, those are the most obvious component of the forest. But the damage goes much deeper. Entire ecosystems are bulldozed to bare dirt to make it easier for heavy machinery to gather the trees; killing numerous living beings and severely compacting the soil.

That soil is then left defenseless, shorn of its rich, protective layers of vegetation and duff. The Willapa Hills can get upwards of 100 inches of precipitation a year, almost all of it as rain. Climate change has led to more severe weather that dumps larger amounts of rain in short periods of time.

A healthy, mature forest can mitigate some of the effects of these downpours as vegetation slows the velocity of raindrops, and the complex, layered soil with its cover of duff absorbs the water. A clearcut lacks these protections, which means every time it rains, tons of topsoil wash off the bare hills. It takes decades for trees and other vegetation to return to a point where they can effectively protect the soil, but by that point an incredible amount of valuable soil has been lost permanently, and will take many centuries to build back up–assuming the land isn’t just clearcut again when the trees are a few decades old.

This, of course, is terrible for the local ecosystem. Any plants and fungi that return to that area are going to be dealing with badly depleted soil with fewer nutrients and a diminished soil microbiome. On a much wider scale, soil is an incredibly important carbon sink, and clearcuts severely reduce the soil’s ability to hold carbon. This is in addition to all the carbon released and produced through the act of clearcutting in the first place.

But it’s not just the land affected by soil erosion. All that soil flows into streams and other waterways. Normally the streams that cascade down the Willapa Hills have rocky beds, full of gravel deposits used by salmon to lay their eggs, and offering shelter to a variety of other aquatic life. When soil washes down into the stream, some of it settles into the gravel, smothering it and anything living in it, to include salmon eggs. This directly leads to a significant decline in salmon and other aquatic wildlife populations. Some streams have been so badly damaged that their longtime salmon runs have gone extinct.

Clearcut forests are the most obvious source of soil erosion, but the same problems happen anywhere the soil is laid bare. Millions of acres of prairie have been destroyed in the past couple of centuries to create farmland in the Midwest; grassland soils are even better carbon sinks than those in forests. And while lawns may have a rudimentary covering of one species of grass (and perhaps a few weeds in the absence of spraying), the soil underneath is usually quite unhealthy and not sequestering carbon the way a natural grassland would. (Lawns, by the way, cover over 63,000 square miles of the United States and are the country’s largest cultivated crop.)

So what can we do about all this? We can start by putting public pressure on logging companies and other entities involved in destroying intact native ecosystems like forests and grasslands. While we do still need timber, there are more sustainable alternatives to clearcutting that are also more carbon-friendly.

It’s also important to protect what native ecosystems remain, especially those that are relatively undamaged by development, invasive species, and other deleterious factors. And habitat restoration, even on a small scale, can make a big difference both locally and as part of a wider network of restoration projects in backyards and on balconies.

Finally, keep sharing news stories and other information about soil erosion and solutions. The more people know about this important ecological topic, the better decisions we can all make both as individuals and as part of a society.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[lovelikedestiny]

“Please don’t go.”

It’s a whisper in the dark, almost not audible like a secret - told between the veil of midnight and cover of nearing dawn - , no one else should know.

“I hate when we have to split up,” Joe continues, putting the source of his inner trumour into words, voice hushed, merely a sigh of the wind.

Parting ways has always been part of their lives, also a possible choice in their relationship - the If  of getting a distance to the other none of them ever had the urge to fulfill for more than a few days.

The forced kind of this partitioning hasn’t become easier over the centuries and Joe detests giving a farewell to Nicky, already feeling the gnawing of agonizing concern in his guts. The unknowingness if Nicky is well, everything goes as planned or if their exchanged words of goodbye were their last words at all, rests like a weight of pure, scorching iron on his heart, hindering it from beating properly in a rhythm meant for two.

Joe loathes it.

Nicky’s breathing falters minimally under Joe’s head and his tone is layered in the fugitive colors of deep understanding, shared sorrows and the pain that comes with it. 

“I know,” he replies softly, nestling the warm palm of his hand against the curve of Joe’s bare shoulder. “You’re still in my arms and yet I already miss your touch and the radiance of your smile.”

Joe huffs, straining his neck only so much he can lock eyes with the love of his life. “Keep talking like that and I will chain you to this bed and tell Andy you were tied up with business.”

“Oh?” Nicky smirks and plucks gently at one of Joe’s curls that has been getting longer in their time off. “I think I would like that. Who wouldn’t like to be chained up by their significant other?”

“Nicolo!” The over the top amount of horror Joe uses lets the outcry shake due to the barking laugh threatening to burst out of him. “After all this time the new aspect I discover from you is this?! I don’t even know how to take such a shocking revelation!”

They both know they’re trying to prevent the thin veil of a relaxed, untroubled night - their last night for an uncertain amount of time - from falling and thus uncovering the bloody, cruel weeks lying ahead of them, filled with exertion, death, never ending concern and fear. Weeks in which they’re unable to talk or see each other, only allowed to communicate through a few messages, regarding the mission and nothing else.

Nicky, having guessed where Joe’s mind has wandered, makes a soft throaty sound, almost a calming hum, and lifts his chin like an invitation. “Maybe I can alleviate the infinite shock with a kiss.”

“Just one?” Joe asks but leans closer because who is he to ever refuse an invitation of his husband?

“Or two, perhaps even tre or…” Joe silences him by sealing their lips in a kiss but the force of his movement causes Nicky to make a choked, muffled noise. 

Of course, every touch of Nicky on his body sets his nerves on fire and sends shivers down his spine, turning his muscles to jelly and his bones to rubber, while heat rushes through his veins like a stimulating summer rain.

But on occasions like this Joe has the feeling of having to burn all of it into his memory: how Nicky tastes and how his tempting mouth feels on Joe’s, how he smells - always like their soap, the salt of a ocean and a warm, secure kitchen filled with the scent of home - and how soft his hair is under Joe’s wandering fingertips, how comfortable Nicky is in his presence, his beloved slender body so soft and so, so vulnerable because he trusts Joe with his life. 

On occasions like this Joe has the urge to lock these memories into his heart - the most precious things on this earth - , so they can nurture his very heart and warm him when Nicky’s body heat is missing next to him. 

A last imprint of his moon in darkness on his soul before their farewell.

Nicky kisses him back just as hard, pressing him with his strong arms that are able to swing a long sword with deadly grace onto his body as if he wanted to tear open his own rib cage and take Joe in to hide him and keep him safe.

The need to supply their lungs with oxygen is what separates them but Joe stays close to Nicky, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat, bowing his head until his forehead comes to rest against Nicky’s, not once averting his eyes, breaking their gaze.

I love you, Joe reads in the endless, clear seas he can get lost in for hours.

Joe smiles, a bitter, wistful twist of his mouth because he is going to lose Nicky again for a vague period of time to do good. I love you too. Always.

“You know, there is this phrase in German,” Nicky breaches the silence quietly, in the same careful way he would stitch a wound. “One of their ways of saying goodbye. Auf Wiedersehen. It means something like , ‘Until we meet again’.”

Joe doesn’t dare to blink or even draw a breath out of fear to miss whatever Nicky wants to tell him.

For a few seconds Nicky traces the outlines of Joe’s face with one finger, remaining longer on his laugh crinkles. “So if we’re using that we actually don’t say goodbye. Just…”

“Until we meet again,” Joe completes hoarse and cups Nicky’s strong, beautiful jaw with one hand. “I like that. Very much, in fact.”

“Auf Wiedersehen, cuore mio.” Nicky directs a loving smile at Joe, having once again eased Joe’s mind and heart a little bit.

Joe chuckles slightly, not heard by anyone but Nicky and the moon itself. “Auf Wiedersehen, ya amar.”

Until we meet again. In this life and every life that may follow.

[weebsinstash]

sorry if weird question but as a lil innocent bby I never smoked weed or did any drugs and I was wondering how did you start? where did you even source it in the first place, did you just happen to know a guy who had it or is there a secret store? spill the tea for us innocent bbys pls 🙏

Not a weird question, i can understand being curious and I do mention weed in my prompts every so often

Well first and foremost I wanna be a responsible 26 yo adult and say that, really, anything can be addictive. A lot of people don't realize addiction issues can even be genetically inherited, like it isnt JUST a battle of willpower, you can be biologically wired to get addicted to stuff easier, so weed definitely isn't as harmless as some people make it out to be if you already have a predisposition for bad impulse control. There have been studies, some pretty damning, suggesting smoking raises your risk of dementia, and of course there is COPD and weed can also negatively effect your stomach, as well as making you agitated. Different strains and THC/CBD percentages in weed can really change your high, too. There has been bud that gets me really giggly and happy and other kinds that made me HELLA paranoid and kind of strung out, so, it's not always a pleasant experience. It can also totally be your biology too, I knew a guy once who couldn't smoke at all because it would make him borderline hallucinate and it was extremely stressful for him

Like really to be blatantly honest with you, I'm a daily user to the point where I can have significant amounts and won't feel as "psychedelic" as I used to. Like you definitely build a tolerance after a while, but you can take a break for a while and it'll come back. But you can definitely fall into a trap where you smoke too much "trying to feel as high as you used to", chasing the memory of the fun feeling, and it just makes you tired and then you sleep and it's wasted, whereas for example when I went to watch Spiderverse in theaters, I stayed clean for a few days, just like 4 or 5, and when I smoked again it felt aweeeesome 😩❤️ like definitely, personal restraint can mean EVERYTHING with weed, for your tolerance, for your munchies, for how much you spend, you gotta find your limits and stick with em I guess

It's definitely sort of a time and place thing. I started smoking on my 17th birthday when my sister got me into it, and she was introduced to it by a boyfriend. It really does feel like it can be a matter of where you live or knowing the right person. For example one time after my mom and I had moved, we didn't have a hookup and we smelled weed on one of the mover's jackets and asked him in a really chill way if he knew where to get a hookup (it was him lmao, he was a dealer)

But anyways, it really depends on your state or country, but even if selling outright bud and flower isn't legal, sometimes selling THC products is. Like for example I'm in Minnesota and we have it medically legal (we're actually in the middle of implementing it being legalized recreationally) and I couldn't go to a smoke shop and buy bud yet, but I CAN buy synthetic weed and thc gummies. Also really cannot stress enough that you should really never touch synthetic drugs for anything; fake weed/spice has been proven to be especially bad, like, do not cheap out thinking you'll be safer with synthetic, it is arguably significantly more dangerous than the normal stuff.

Really cannot stress enough that this is a "check your local legislature before doing this" thing, but for example these are a brand of THC gummies that I bought in a smoke shop and can personally vouch for being able to get you high (thc is the high ingredient, CBD is the medical pain relieving ingredient) and they say you can purchase them online. I really am not sure where the law stands sometimes because it's like "oh we won't let you buy weed but we'll let you buy this processed product that contains the literal ingredient in weed that gets you high". Like for example that brand is Torch and when you go to their website they're also selling THC cartridges but they're also based in California so, do they only ship in California, is it safe country wide, you really have to do your own research for where you personally are

I would say maybe avoid ordering online because I just personally think that's a big risk unless you have confirmation it's ok where you're at. If you wanted me to give you my advice, I think a "surefire" way to find a hookup is to just go to a smokeshop and start up a conversation with someone. It can literally go "oh hey what do you buy that for?" "Oh I use it for pain, I don't like smoking weed and these gummies work good" "you know, if you think bud is too harsh on your throat, I got an edible guy--" like not even joking me and my mom went to buy screens the other week and we talked to this really nice girl for like over an hour and got her number cause she had all kinds of hookups and shes the one who recommended those gummies. A lot of dealers are selling weed as a side hustle and every customer they can get is good. It's good to have a plug you're loyal with but having options can be good in case anyone becomes unreliable or falls through or you find someone who sells for cheaper.

There are also multiple ways to, you know, do the deed. There's regular bud, which typically has to be ground up or cut up, and you can roll that into a blunt or use glass, which is my personal preference, I own some glass pipes and a bong, and I should mention I use smoking screens to avoid getting ash in my mouth but deadass, the vapors coming off of lighting that metal are probably Mucho No Bueno for my lungs so I've just been rawdoggin it, and there are also pens, like thc and cbd oil, and my recent method of preference is using an edabber pen and doing wax, which is a concentrate, although you can also do dabs with a glass rig and a butane torch but I got a thing against open flame haha

I think smoking weed is probably definitely less harmful than alcohol but it's probably a case by case thing as well as purely perspective. It can be fun as hell but you definitely have to watch yourself, and also, like, munchies can be fun, but it shouldn't be undersold how powerful munchies can be. I've literally eaten myself sick before. Eating becomes an activity in of itself and you'll have a full stomach and go "well I just ate something salty, now I want a sweet"

Anyways long answer is long but, yeah, my biggest piece of advice is, look at yourself as a person and try and figure out if it's even safe for you to try it, because if you have impulse control issues, someday down the like you may end up like me where you basically want to smoke before every activity to try and make that activity more fun and you wind up smoking so much you just need a nap, and when you wake up you're smoking again 😅 moderation is key!

[wolffyluna]

Homeland by RA Salvatore Liveblog

Help, I have fallen back into the Drizzt pit and can't get up.

Under a cut for child abuse and attempted sexual assault.

I'm copy-pasting this from discord. Ellipses differentiate liveblogs that were done at different times.

I'm rereading the first Drizzt novel. It was one of the book series I loved loved loved when I was young. I am simultaneously going:

oh my God, this world building. Your legal system cannot run on vibes, sir. The implied gender ratio is hilarious (drow nobles want lots of kids, but every son after the second is killed, so a family having four daughters and two sons is pretty normal. Oh, and it's implied that polyandry is a Status Symbol)

oof ow argh, man hands misery onto man! It deepens like a coastal shelf! 😭

I'm still at the beginning, but drizzt is being raised by his older sister, and she is heavily encouraged to physically abuse him. There's a point where she thinks "wow, what could this kid achieve if we weren't breaking his spirit. ... wait, that's a blasphemous thought, I should punish him for making me think that." And Drizzt is taught to believe that surface elves are the source of all of his problems, to the point that whenever he's whipped he "cries out for the death of a [surface elf]" These people all could have been fine if they lived in a reasonable society! 😭

The book is divided into parts, and at the beginning of each part there's a section of Drizzt monologing as if he's giving an interview

And in the one where he's talking about his childhood, he both talks about PTSD-flashbacks-in-so- many-words and also "presumably things happened before I was sixteen? I remember basically none of that though" which. Baby. Let me scoop you up into a hug even though you are a century(?) old dark elf who is presumably taller than me.

...

The only way the drow gender ratio doesn't fall flat is a) the implication that commoners don't do that, so maybe their gender ratios are less of a disaster and b) it looks like only the female heads of the family can take consorts/have children, so polyandry is a little more possible

Though this does, like, raise the question of "so, you are the daughter of a matron mother, and you fall pregnant. what do you do?"

...

It's legal for a drow house to attack another in secret. It is illegal to do it openly. The justification is that Lolth likes it that way (This is a logic that underpins a lot of the drow legal system) And it could be made sensible with just one small change: Every drow house wants to be able to attack another, but wants no other house to be able to attack them. So they created norms where you can't just attack people, if you did that the whole city would fall on you ...but if you can do it with plausible deniability...

...

I have now re-witnessed the beautiful, beautiful scene where a wizard panics* and casts fireball at his own feet

*he would say he was very tactical, I do not believe him

[Seriously, I have remembered this scene fondly for years. It's Such A Scene.]

...

Oh my God Masoj just encouraged someone to take the identity of someone he [the other guy] just killed. Masoj completely failed to mention that the dead guy was his brother.

...

DRIZZT QQ

His dad just tried and failed to kill him to try and maintain his innocence.

I have so many feelings about Zaknafein.

Just. The combination of "Zaknafein was a major role model to Drizzt and is a significant part of why Drizzt is good" and "Zaknafein is Not A Very Good Person." Man.

...

Lov Drizzt

He just nearly got murdered, but he doesn't care, because KITTY!

Drizzt is this xkcd comic

...

I remembered the sex pollen scene, but man did I not remember/parse how much it was a dub-to-non con sex pollen scene

...

Something that is also getting to me on this re-read: the amount that the men of the Do'Urden family 🐛 assist with their family members whipping them, or literally taking them as a sacrifice. Because resistance would only make it worse, and this way at least you have some control

There's a really telling passage where Briza is torturing Dinin for no real reason, and he's just like. okay. i'm not going to get in the way of this process. And he actively positions himself to make it easier.

...

Help, I'm combining my love of "what if popular but misapplied blorbo song, but correctly applied?" with the Legends of Drizzt series: Eat Your Young is a valid Malice/Zaknafein song

There is no capitalism, but there is a lot of zero sum resource fights, and a lot of the conflict between these chatacters is their children being used in those zero sum resource fights.

Zaknafein has a lot of conflict about whether it's better for his son to be eaten by drow society, or dead And there's a thing where both Zaknafein and Drizzt are/are meant to be sacrifices to Lolth, at Malice's hands

Skinning the children for a war drum Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns It's quicker and easier to eat your young

And there's also the whole thing of-- Zaknafein and Malice's life is luxurious, but that's at a cost. There are no skeletons in the closet because they are displaying the skeletons openly as part of the decor

...

The Drizzt He destroyed his cage Yes YES The Drizzt is out

...

The thing about Homeland in particular is how it is simultaneously man hands on misery onto man, it deepens like a coastal shelf and how it is so much about it's opposite (it ascends like a volcano?) Drizzt could not be who is he is, could not be good, without Zaknafein.

But he's. Better than Zaknafein. Because of Zaknafein.

And there's the tragedy of the fact that if their roles were reversed, it would be Drizzt bring Zaknafein up into the light.

But. Well. Drizzt would still have to die down in the dark

...

...hmm.. I'm encountering a tempting bad idea: 50 books in a year is a doable challenge. There are 40 Drizzt books. Ergo, one could hypothetically read all the Drizzt books in one year.

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA Analysis Sees Spike in 2023 Global Sea Level Due to El Niño

A long-term sea level dataset shows ocean surface heights continuing to rise at faster and faster rates over decades of observations.

Global average sea level rose by about 0.3 inches (0.76 centimeters) from 2022 to 2023, a relatively large jump due mostly to a warming climate and the development of a strong El Niño. The total rise is equivalent to draining a quarter of Lake Superior into the ocean over the course of a year.

This NASA-led analysis is based on a sea level dataset featuring more than 30 years of satellite observations, starting with the U.S.-French TOPEX/Poseidon mission, which launched in 1992. The Sentinel-6 Michael Freilich mission, which launched in November 2020, is the latest in the series of satellites that have contributed to this sea level record.

The data shows that global average sea level has risen a total of about 4 inches (9.4 centimeters) since 1993. The rate of this increase has also accelerated, more than doubling from 0.07 inches (0.18 centimeters) per year in 1993 to the current rate of 0.17 inches (0.42 centimeters) per year.

“Current rates of acceleration mean that we are on track to add another 20 centimeters of global mean sea level by 2050, doubling the amount of change in the next three decades compared to the previous 100 years and increasing the frequency and impacts of floods across the world,” said Nadya Vinogradova Shiffer, director for the NASA sea level change team and the ocean physics program in Washington.

Seasonal Effects

Global sea level saw a significant jump from 2022 to 2023 due mainly to a switch between La Niña and El Niño conditions. A mild La Niña from 2021 to 2022 resulted in a lower-than-expected rise in sea level that year. A strong El Niño developed in 2023, helping to boost the average amount of rise in sea surface height.

La Niña is characterized by cooler-than-normal ocean temperatures in the equatorial Pacific Ocean. El Niño involves warmer-than-average ocean temperatures in the equatorial Pacific. Both periodic climate phenomena affect patterns of rainfall and snowfall as well as sea levels around the world.

“During La Niña, rain that normally falls in the ocean falls on the land instead, temporarily taking water out of the ocean and lowering sea levels,” said Josh Willis, a sea level researcher at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California. “In El Niño years, a lot of the rain that normally falls on land ends up in the ocean, which raises sea levels temporarily.”

A Human Footprint

Seasonal or periodic climate phenomena can affect global average sea level from year to year. But the underlying trend for more than three decades has been increasing ocean heights as a direct response to global warming due to the excessive heat trapped by greenhouse gases in Earth’s atmosphere.

“Long-term datasets like this 30-year satellite record allow us to differentiate between short-term effects on sea level, like El Niño, and trends that let us know where sea level is heading,” said Ben Hamlington, lead for NASA’s sea level change team at JPL.

These multidecadal observations wouldn’t be possible without ongoing international cooperation, as well as scientific and technical innovations by NASA and other space agencies. Specifically, radar altimeters have helped produce ever-more precise measurements of sea level around the world. To calculate ocean height, these instruments bounce microwave signals off the sea surface, recording the time the signal takes to travel from a satellite to Earth and back, as well as the strength of the return signal.

The researchers also periodically cross-check those sea level measurements against data from other sources. These include tide gauges, as well as satellite measurements of factors like atmospheric water vapor and Earth’s gravity field that can affect the accuracy of sea level measurements. Using that information, the researchers recalibrated the 30-year dataset, resulting in updates to sea levels in some previous years. That includes a sea level rise increase of 0.08 inches (0.21 centimeters) from 2021 to 2022.

When researchers combine space-based altimetry data of the oceans with more than a century of observations from surface-based sources, such as tide gauges, the information dramatically improves our understanding of how sea surface height is changing on a global scale. When these sea level measurements are combined with other information, including ocean temperature, ice loss, and land motion, scientists can decipher why and how seas are rising.

IMAGE....This graph shows global mean sea level (in blue) since 1993 as measured by a series of five satellites. The solid red line indicates the trajectory of this increase, which more than doubled over the past three decades. The dotted red line projects future sea level rise. Credit: NASA-JPL/Caltech

[redbootsindoriath]

begging you to elaborate on autistic beleg and autistic túrin!!

Bro thanks so much for asking because I’ve been sitting on these thoughts for years.  And now I have to dig up the list.  I’m just glad I wrote it down, and thankfully @frodo-with-glasses is also visiting and could help me remember what I forgot to include.  Brace yourself because this post is going to get long.  Seriously.  I even left out any headcanons and just stuck with what evidence I have from the source material.

We’re going to start out with the obvious: Túrin.  And I say obvious because I have seen one other post talking about how he comes across as autistic, and his traits are more obvious (especially in the more well-known Silmarillion as opposed to other versions of the story).

Clearly he’s quite bright, especially as a strategist (it’s mainly the CurseTM that turns his plans into a bad thing whenever it’s least convenient), but a significant number of fans describe him, sometimes affectionately and sometimes not, as stupid.  This is probably because he’s completely blind to many social cues.  One of our first examples is him never noticing how interested Nellas was in him (whether romantically or platonically I’ve never been able to figure out).

Coming suddenly out of thought [Túrin] looked at Beleg, and said: 'The elf-maiden that you named, though I forget how: I owe her well for her timely witness; yet I cannot recall her. Why did she watch my ways?' Then Beleg looked strangely at him. 'Why indeed?' he said. 'Túrin, have you lived always with your heart and half your mind far away? As a boy you used to walk with Nellas in the woods.' The Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Another example is how he completely missed the fact that Finduilas loved him and he continued shipping Gwinduilas.  (Also note the uncomfortable miscommunication between an autistic character and allistic character in this section.  Both of them assume the other is just being difficult for some reason.)

Afterwards Túrin sought out Gwindor, and said to him: 'Gwindor, dear friend, you are falling back into sadness; do not so! For your healing will come in the houses of your kin, and in the light of Finduilas.' Then Gwindor stared at Túrin, but he said nothing, and his face was clouded. 'Why do you look upon me so?' said Túrin. 'Often your eyes have gazed at me strangely of late. How have I grieved you? I have opposed your counsels; but a man must speak as he sees, nor hide the truth that he believes, for any private cause. I would that we were one in mind; for to you I owe a great debt, and I shall not forget it.' 'Will you not?' said Gwindor. 'Nonetheless your deeds and your counsels have changed my home and my kin. Your shadow lies upon them. Why should I be glad, who have lost all to you?' Túrin did not understand these words, and did but guess that Gwindor begrudged him his place in the heart and counsels of the King. The Children of Húrin, chapter X

There’s more of this in larger amounts in how he dealt with Mîm and Saeros.  He was friends with Mîm until Beleg came back and then he practically ignored Mîm, albeit unintentionally, and somehow didn’t see how betrayed the dwarf felt as a result of that.  Túrin ignored Saeros’s bullying until he couldn’t take it anymore and then he lashed out in a spectacularly disastrous and emotional manner that somehow nobody (except Mablung) saw coming.  I should point out that time that he missed the fact that he’d accidentally taken Saeros’s seat at that one banquet, and immediately afterward completely missed the fact that Saeros was trying to make a snide remark about it:

'Seldom does the march-warden favour us with his company,' [Saeros] said; 'and I gladly yield my accustomed seat for the chance of speech with him.' But Túrin, who was in converse with Mablung the Hunter, did not rise, and said only a curt 'I thank you'. The Children of Húrin, chapter V

On a somewhat similar note to his social awkwardness, he forms very few deep friendships.  When they are deep they're very deep, but most of the rest of the people in his life seem to be just casual acquaintances.  He likes them, but he doesn’t have a deep bond of trust and love with them.  He has his categories of “people I like”,  “people I don’t like”, and “heckin frickin friends that I love with all my heart and soul and I will tell my secrets to”.

His moral system is very black and white.  He may draw the line in weird places, but he has a definite line that cannot be crossed.  We actually get an example of him moving this very clear line:

'At least my hands shall not again be raised against Elves or Men,' said Túrin. 'Angband has servants enough. If others will not take this vow with me, I will walk alone.' Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Notice there’s no “I’ll kill bad humans and bad elves” here.  It’s “nope, no more humans or elves”.  Black and white.

He’s not much good with understanding figurative or flowery language.  Again, quite early on in Children of Húrin there are multiple examples of him going to his friend Labadal and asking him to explain something that Húrin or Morwen had said.  He’s a very intelligent child, but figures of speech are not his strong suit.  Of course, as he grows up he tries to overcorrect this by employing some probably-artificially-learned circumlocution, with varying degrees of success.

He has extremely obvious hyperfixations, and he excels in those skills he does have.  If he doesn’t like doing something, he doesn’t bother with it.  But if he does like doing it, he completely dominates at it.

One only was mightier in arms among the march-wardens of Thingol at that time than Túrin... Children of Húrin, chapter V Led by signs that [Beleg] could read, or by the rumour of the passing of Men among the wild things with whom he could speak, he came often near, but always their lair was deserted when he came to it; for they kept a watch about them by day and night, and at any rumour of approach they were swiftly up and away. 'Alas!' he cried. 'Too well did I teach this child of Men craft in wood and field! An Elvish band almost one might think this to be.' Children of Húrin, chapter VI

A human--and a young one at that--doing better than elves at the things elves are supposed to be best at?  It smacks of the savant stereotype, except with tragedy to balance it.

Some other things--his lax habits about hygiene, his stubbornness, his obsession over single tasks or ideas--don’t really need explaining, I think.  They’re in the Silmarillion so most people are familiar with them.  There are, however, three more specific things that I’m rather undecided on but I’m going to mention them anyway.  First, he’s clumsy when it comes to very fine motor control.  You could attribute some of this to the curse, but it could also just be him being, well, clumsy.

...in crafts of making he had less skill, for he was slow to learn his own strength, and often marred what he made with some sudden stroke. Children of Húrin, chapter V

He has some minor selective mutism.  There are a few times it’s mentioned, but it’s right off the bat in Children of Húrin, literally in the first chapter.

...he was not merry, and spoke little, though he learned to speak early and ever seemed older than his years. Children of Húrin, chapter I

You’ll excuse my pointing out that this hints at Asperger’s specifically: no speech delay.  I know it’s not a commonly accepted subcategory anymore, but it’s a very specific detail and I like those.  Also I feel obligated to include this bit as well:

But courage and strength were renewed in the Elf of Nargothrond, and departing from Taur-nu-Fuin he led Túrin far away. Never once as they wandered together on long and grievous paths did Túrin speak... Children of Húrin, chapter IX

That’s months of silence.  I know it’s because of trauma, but still.  I had to include it.

And finally, he’s extremely sensitive.  I almost didn’t include this one in my list because it isn’t in itself a guaranteed sign of autism, but it’s pretty common as a comorbid symptom.  There are many examples of his emotional sensitivity and quick temper throughout all the versions of the story, so I’m just picking one:

...but [the outlaws] feared him, because of his sudden angers, which they seldom understood. Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Note again the difficulty in communication.  All in all, I think Tolkien wrote Túrin this way on purpose.  He may not have had a word to describe it, but he made a character with too many autistic traits for me to ignore.

Now!  On to Beleg.

The traits that make me suspect Beleg as autistic are much more subtle, but if you’re looking for them you start seeing them everywhere.  Also many of them are in the Lay of the Children of Húrin, which probably explains why not many people noticed them because that thing can be difficult to unravel compared to the other versions of the story.

Right off the bat, we know that Beleg does whatever the heck he wants and nobody can stop him.  I’ve seen a quote floating around on almost every Wiki article about Beleg that says that he followed no man and could not be restrained.  (If anyone can tell me the source for that, I will draw Beleg for you, because it certainly matches what we know about him but I like the precision of knowing the source material in case anyone challenges it.)  While this isn’t exclusively an autistic trait, it is common enough that I thought it deserved to be included.  Beleg also lives in the woods and only comes around Menegroth when he’s good and ready.  Again, not exclusively autistic, but this casually asocial attitude was one of the first things that roused my suspicions about him.  Heck, according to the Lay he’s especially unsocial.

It was Beleg the hunter, who farthest fared     of his folk abroad ahunting by hill     and hollow valley, who cared not for concourse     and commerce of men. The Lay of the Children of Húrin, I: Túrin’s Fostering

In the Lay, “Men” is capitalized if it’s meant to be translated as “humans”.  Note that it’s not capitalized in that passage.  I’m also going to address this next line before moving on because I know someone is going to point it out if I don’t:

Then Beleg departed from Menegroth and went back to the north-marches, where he had his lodges, and many friends... Children of Húrin, chapter VI

He may have “many friends” among the march-wardens, but he doesn’t spend all of his time with them.  In fact, most of the times we meet him he’s alone.  You can have a decently sized friend group without being around them all the time, especially if you’re immortal.

Now, on to his skill set: elves are supposed to be either healers or hunters/warriors.  Beleg really went “watch me do it anyway” because:

And the Eldar deemed that the dealing of death, even when lawful or under necessity, diminished the power of healing.... On the other hand many elven-men were great healers and skilled in the lore of living bodies, though such men abstained from hunting, and went not to war until the last need. Of the Laws and Customs Among the Eldar

Only one was there     in war greater, higher in honour     in the hearts of Elves, than Túrin son of Húrin     untamed in war -- even the huntsman Beleg     of the Hidden People, the son of the wilderness     who wist no sire (to bend whose bow     of the black yew-tree had none of the might),     unmatched in knowledge of the wood's secrets     and the weary hills. The Lay of the Children of Húrin, I: Túrin’s Fostering

Now was it that it came into the heart of Beleg the hunter of the Elves to seek after Túrin so soon as his own hurts were healed. This being done in no great number of days, for he had a skill of healing... Book of Lost Tales part II, Turambar and the Foaloke

Now Beleg was sorely wounded, but he was mighty among the Elves of Middle-earth, and he was moreover a master of healing. Therefore he did not die, and slowly his strength returned. The Silmarillion, Of Túrin Turambar

Talk all you want about older notes being cancelled out by newer notes, I’m still taking this as another subtle hint at Beleg being autistic.

Hyperfixation.  Extreme hyperfixation.  When he’s bent on something, there’s nothing anyone can do to distract him.  This is a focus that’s been honed by all the practice an older-than-the-sun-and-the-moon lifespan can afford.

Many messengers had been sent out by Thingol to seek Túrin within Doriath and in the lands near its borders; but in the year of his flight they searched for him in vain, for none knew or could guess that he was with the outlaws and enemies of Men. When winter came on they returned to the King, save Beleg only. After all others had departed still he went on alone. Children of Húrin, chapter VI

Beleg also thinks in black and white, even more so than Túrin at times.

'Fare free,' said Túrin. 'That wish Mablung gave me at our parting. The grace of Thingol will not stretch to receive these companions of my fall, I think; but I will not part with them now, if they do not wish to part with me. I love them in my way, even the worst a little. They are of my own kind, and there is some good in each that might grow. I think that they will stand by me.' 'You see with other eyes than mine,' said Beleg. 'If you try to wean them from evil, they will fail you. I doubt them, and one most of all.' 'How shall an Elf judge of Men?' said Túrin. 'As he judges of all deeds, by whomsoever done,' answered Beleg... Children of Húrin, chapter VI

His conversational skills are a bit lacking, although less obviously so than Túrin’s.  He swings back and forth between being overly blunt and being overly cryptic.  As with Túrin, he might be trying to adjust for a natural lack of subtlety and accidentally overshooting it.  He also seems to have a habit of dominating--or at least trying to dominate--any conversation he’s in.  The most obvious example I can think of was when he showed up late to Túrin’s trial and literally pressures Elu Thingol himself into accepting Nellas as a witness.

Then there was silence in the hall, and Thingol lifted up his hand to pronounce his doom. But at that moment Beleg entered in haste, and cried: 'Lord, may I yet speak?' 'You come late,' said Thingol. 'Were you not bidden with the others?' 'Truly, lord,' answered Beleg, 'but I was delayed; I sought for one whom I knew. Now I bring at last a witness who should be heard, ere your doom falls.' 'All were summoned who had aught to tell,' said the King. 'What can he tell now of more weight than those to whom I have listened?' 'You shall judge when you have heard,' said Beleg. 'Grant this to me, if I have ever deserved your grace.' 'To you I grant it,' said Thingol. Children of Húrin, chapter V

Bear with me because we’re getting close to the end of the list, but I saved the clues that I found most interesting for last.  Beleg is at any given moment either the most calm and collected character you can imagine, or wildly excitable, and there is no in-between.  Anyone who’s read the Silmarillion knows how stable Beleg can be sometimes, but here:

Then up sprang Beleg: 'That our vaunt and our vows     be not vain for ever, evern such as they swore,     those seven chieftains, an oath let us swear     that is unchanging as Tain-Gwethil's     towering mountain!' Their blades were bared,    as blood shining in the flame of the fires     while they flashed and touched. As with one man's voice     the words were spoken, and the oath uttered     that must unrecalled abide for ever,     a bond of truth and friendship in arms,     and faith in peril. The Lay of the Children of Húrin, II: Beleg

He really suggested the Gaurwaith swear an oath of loyalty like the Fëanorians.  That’s a special breed of chaos.  Not to mention the whole manic monologue he went off with to Flinding (Gwindor) later on in that chapter of the Lay.  All it takes is a single suggestion to send him from 0 to 100000, as long as it’s something he’s interested in.

Now this leads me to my favorite piece of evidence for an autistic Beleg: a surprising inability, especially for an elf, to gauge the volume of his own voice in a moment of excitement.

In eager anger     then up sprang Beleg, crying and calling,     careless of Flinding: 'O Túrin, Túrin,    my troth-brother, to the brazen bonds     shall I abandon thee, and the darkling doors     of the Deeps of Hell?' 'Thou wilt join his journey     to the jaws of sorrow, O bowman crazéd,     if thy bellowing cry to the Orcs should come...' The Lay of the Children of Húrin, II: Beleg

(This is only a small side note, and really doesn’t hold up on its own, but Beleg has dogs.  Animals are a common enough autistic special interest that I thought I might as well mention it, especially when we remember that he can communicate with some animals.)

Now enough of the individual traits. When we look at the two characters together, we can of course contrast the old-autistic and young-autistic differences.  Beleg literally does whatever he wants and people have just learned not to bother trying to change his mind.  He doesn’t bother trying to fit into everyone else’s world but rather runs along perfectly content in his own parallel reality.  Túrin, on the other hand, is stressed, frustrated, and confused both by himself and by everyone else, and he spends most of his life trying to figure out where and how he’s meant to fit in.  But I’d also like to mention that of Túrin’s friends in the whole story, Beleg is the one who has the least miscommunication (although when there is miscommunication it’s spectacularly bad, insert obligatory dark humor here, yada yada).  They may talk in rather dated syntax, but they are able to communicate what is needed when it’s needed.  They’re both blunt and they trust each other enough to take a verbal blow without grudging it afterwards.

'I would lead my own men, and make war in my own way,' Túrin answered. 'But in this at least my heart is changed: I repent every stroke save those dealt against the Enemy of Men and Elves. And above all else I would have you beside me. Stay with me!' 'If I stayed beside you, love would lead me, not wisdom,' said Beleg. 'My heart warns me that we should return to Doriath. Elsewhere a shadow lies before us.' 'Nonetheless, I will not go there,' said Túrin. 'Alas!' said Beleg. 'But as a fond father who grants his son's desire against his own foresight, I yield to your will. At your asking, I will stay.' 'That is well indeed!' said Túrin. Children of Húrin, chapter VI

For being in a book packed with flowery dialogue, their conversations tend to be rather to-the-point.  There’s no small talk, everything that they discuss is pertinent to the current situation.  And Túrin, who is not particularly well-known for listening to anyone’s advice at any time for any reason, seems to respect and appreciate Beleg’s bluntness even to the point of saying this immediately after Beleg called him out on a particularly stupid comment:

Túrin's eyes glinted, but as he looked in Beleg's face the fire in them died, and they went grey, and he said in a voice hardly to be heard: 'I wonder, friend, that you deign to come back to such a churl. From you I will take whatever you give, even rebuke. Henceforward you shall counsel me in all ways, save the road to Doriath only.' Children of Húrin, chapter VII

They’re both stubborn and they’ve found a way to work around it because they know that there are no subtle background messages to what the other is saying.

And, of course, to close, I’d like to point out that autistics tend to find each other because they feel understood in a world that is as foreign as a different world.  Perhaps Túrin, coming to a kingdom of people who aren’t even of the same race as his own, found solace in someone who understood the way his mind worked without having to explain anything, and that someone was Beleg.  Never before had he known anyone who so instinctively understood the way his mind worked; and Beleg, thousands of years old, alone even in a realm filled with his own people, found in a human child a sense of purpose and validation that he’d not even known he was missing his whole life, and chose a mortal as his closest friend.

TLDR, there is no TLDR.  I’ve way overthought this and as a result I’m not sure how to summarize it.

If I think of anything I missed in my essay here, I’ll add it later in the comments or a reblog or something.