#this is as summarised as i can get it

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

May I introduce my Space Rangers AU, just a teeny tiny bit?

At least- some initial doodles including some designs for it-

While there are a lot of other characters that have fun designs and backstories for this au, these four (+ Rusty) are the main focus for now-

They're space experiments, escapees from A.F.O (not the person), an organisation that experiments and tries to create perfect beings using solar and lunar energy extracted from suns and moons!

Brief character info:

PL:

Was stolen as a child from Earth and experimented on, ended up busting out and saving a bunch of the other kids.

Took them to Yuuei (a built up safe haven for all, home of the space rangers)

Ended up going on some adventures with Ecto, who was now his best friend that would tag along with anything.

Became a ranger captain and eventually built a crew with Ecto

They accept odd jobs and commissions, no matter the manner of them, and get money through them (+occasionally thieving things)

He ends up rescuing and breaking out more experiments from different A.F.O bases, and takes them to Yuuei for safety.

Rescued Rusty, who was in the animal space trade, and now looks after him and treasures him.

Hes about 70% space rock and metal and random alien blood at this point-

Loves to visit earth to get the snacks there.

Ecto:

Was a royal from a planet with constantly shifting gravity, so his body allows him to just kinda switch his own sense of gravity around if that makes sense-

(he can just vibe on the ceiling whenever he wants lol)

Also has this shadowy bone demon that lives within him/as part of him.

Got stolen and his planet kinda got wiped out, and off he went to go get experimented on.

He was supposed to be 'scrapped' but survived bc of Higari.

They made friends with each other when still young, Higari saved Ecto from being killed and he helped him break out.

Ever since then, he stuck with him and became a ranger with him (also ended up falling for him and becoming a huge mess about it)

He really likes the sweets that Higari gets him from Earth.

Tsunagu:

From an ancient civilisation that is now long gone, his entire kind was wiped out after him and a other kids got stolen by A.F.O.

Was part of the original experiments carried out by the actual AFO(person) before Tsunagu kinda went rogue, killed him, destroyed the original base and fled.

He is OLD as fuck.

He would qualify as a "royal" but wouldn't use that title, as within his civilisation they were all perceived as noble beings.

He can shapeshift, never shows his natural form due to insecurities with how he was experimented on, and trust issues.

The experiment on him went VERY wrong, and he was accidentally injected with the Solar energy of an ancient Celestial Solar Being :]

It inhabits his being and goes rogue sometimes. It is searching for its "Home", which happens to be its other half - an ancient lunar being <3

He is dangerous and grouchy as hell, but has a sense of humour deep down.

Also met Higari and his crew by being broken out of jail by him and now constantly relies on him to break him out of jail. Very often.

He's a captain of his own ship and crew.

Shinya:

Was stolen from earth quite a long time ago as a baby and not only experimented on, but raised by the scientists.

He was brainwashed and all that jazz to become one of their "higher functioning mercenaries".

He aided in their schemes and killing for quite the long time until he was sent on a mission out to earth.

This didn't go well, and he ended up losing all of his memory to do with A.F.O and space and only knew the information he was given to fit in: "Shinya Kamihara, age 33, scientist and medic for space exploration"

He came back out to space on an expedition and it went wrong, he got stranded with important dangerous stuff, and eventually gets helped by Higari and his crew and meets Tsunagu.

The rest is all a very long plot. He has to find out who he was and is.

He has hidden markings from his experiment mercenary days, and only certain circumstances/equipment/technology can reveal it.

He also, mirroring Tsunagu's predicament, is the host for the Celestial Lunar Being that is searching for it's home.

:)

Rusty:

The Bestest Boy

Is a Space Travelling Dinosaur

He is small, very huggable, and likes to eat seeds and nuts and occasionally anything else thats handed to him.

Rescued by Higari from being traded in the space trade.

He can blow lil sparkly galaxy bubbles from his nose-beak-thing, and step on them if he wants to.

He is The Best Space Ranger.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

TW: panic attack, non-graphic self harm, reckless behaviour, fear of drowning

This is like... a bit 5K of Pac and Philza actually bonding for once...

Fear claws into Pac's heart just as easily as his fingernails dig into his palms. There's nothing wrong, objectively there's nothing wrong, but he's been alone all day. It's not at all like working with Mike; he's been trying to decorate the Favela, but his breath keeps catching and his thoughts keep stopping.

He can hear the fountain beneath the warpstone, and he wants it to /stop/.

He knows anxiety now, he knows it, he knows this is what it is, and when Fit found the blood in Chume Labs and the empty graves he made him promise to call him if it happened again. It's happening now, Pac can feel it building, but there's nobody awake. He checks it again, and still it's only him.

So he does the thing he does next best. He holds his breath and he thinks of nothing and he builds. More trees, more ponds, more fountains - anything and everything he can think of. Give the Redeemer a sombrero, then think better of it half way through and take it down. Start returfing the football field, only to decide to put it back because making the goals muddy is just ugly. Hang up more banners, pull them down, add a bit to the fences, swap them for iron, then concrete.

Breathe in, breathe out, there's nothing wrong it's just anxiety.

(But it is wrong, everything is wrong, the back of his brain where Mike sits is empty, not just asleep but empty, torn away and - )

Mike's in the Order hospital, Pac reminds himself, and begins to walk that way.

( - and there are eyes at his back, ready to take him again and - )

Pac forgets to breathe. He drops to his knees in the middle of the street, and scrabbled his hands in the dirt.

Pac checks the communicator again. There's a few more people awake, but... No Fit, no Tubbo, no Mike, no Bagi or Forever... Of the handful of people, the one he knows best if Philza - and while he's happily looked after the man's children, and he's been quite happy to chat or fight together in the past... Philza Minecraft is a legend, and he's never really spoken much without Fit there as a buffer.

But the other option is staying here alone, and he promised Fit that if he started feeling like this again he'd ask someone for company.

He takes a deep breath, and sends a message.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: Can I visit?

As soon as he hits send, Pac slams it shut. He pushes it against his head, shuddering while curled up in a ball. He clings to the communicator, his link to the outside, so hard it leaves indents in his skin.

"It's okay," he whispers to himself. "It's okay, you're okay, there's nobody here to watch you."

It doesn't help; he tries it anyway.

The seconds drag on into minutes, and Pac's fears overwhelm even his attempts to comfort himself.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're safe," he promises himself, even as he claws at his knees, at his face, at his hair and at the floor - anything he can reach to force himself to remember his place.

He hums songs he loves, shuts his eyes and tries to dance along.

He slams hands over his mouth and freezes when he tries.

Too loud, too loud, they'll find you - quiet, quiet, quiet as a mouse and quieter still. Hide amongst the rats, and hope nobody spots you curled up there...

The communicator pings.

In a scramble Pac pulls the lid open, shaking fingers quickly clicking him through to the correct screen.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: sorry m8, missed the message

Ph1LzA whispers to you: still need something or you get it sorted?

What does Pac say? The loneliness is getting to him and the walls are caving in and he can feel something watching from inside his spine? That Mike is gone and he's remembering a /before/ he wants to forget, He can't say that, he really can't.

But what sounds like a normal response which might get him a conversation...

With shaking hands he types whatever comes to mind.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: I am just missing Fit

... Not that. That absolutely does not sound like a request for company.

This time Philza's reply does not take nearly as long, though still longer than anyone else Pac ever messages.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: yeah?

Ph1LzA whispers to you: you want some company? I can put down a sharestone

Pac's heart settles back into place - maybe slightly too high still, but far closer. He didn't mess it up too badly - maybe English is just like that - he didn't even have to ask again.

You whisper to Ph1LzA: please.

It's another minute or two for Pac's anxiety to build and him to cling to the communicator before he recieves a reply.

Ph1LzA whispers to you: red sharestone, name should be obvious

You whisper to Ph1LzA: obrigado

Ph1LzA whispers to you: you're good

There's definitely some emotion to reading those words; Pac pushes it aside, and grabs his warpstone. Moving to the main warpstone for the warehouse seems like too much, so he simply sends himself to spawn.

Only there does he pick himself up, activating the red sharestone. It takes a few scrolls to find the new option, but once he does it earns a small laugh. He selects it, and lets his body be pulled through space.

Where he arrives is cold, deep snow all around, and an icy ocean before him. Pac tugs his sleeves down over his hands, and looks around.

Whereever Philza is, he isn't immediately obvious.

"Philza?" he calls. "Felipe?"

There's a splash as Philza trident-jumps out of the ocean, his paraglider flipping open at the zenith and allowing him to drift safely down to the ice. Pac watches him drift down, the water dripping off him freezing as it falls.

"Hey," Philza calls, once back in voice range, arm moving as though to wave before suddenly remembering he needs to hold the paraglider. "Sorry about that; spotted another jelly and had to get it before it ran off."

Pac waves him off, "it's okay, it's okay, do you need any help?"

Philza squints at Pac a moment, and Pac squirms beneath it. After a moment, though, he just shrugs, "just hunting for rainbow jelly."

"Rainbow jelly?"

"Like the French use to make themselves all rainbow," Philza grins a bit. "You can use it to make glass like that, too. Chayanne wanted some, so..."

Pac thinks of the children, hurting and asleep and under the Federation's "care", the only guarantees of their safety the ability to visit, and the knowledge the Federation knows what is coming if harm comes for their children.

"For Chayanne?" He asks. "I'll help."

"Feel free to hang onto it - if you don't use it, he'll appreciate the gift when he wakes up."

When, not if, even if Pac can see Philza hesitates too.

With that confidence and the thought of their children, Pac doesn't even consider before throwing himself into the water. Behind him he hears the somewhat distorted sound of Philza laughing, and the man throwing himself in after.

Pac spots a couple of the comb jellies, and kicks off towards them. Philza seems to see another group, as he takes another route.

Hunting animals for their innards is one of the few times that sweeping edge is worth it on this island, and so Pac takes out his sword. It only takes a hit to take out the jellies, small as they are, and then Pac just has to scoop up their remains. From there he spots another - deeper - and swims after it. And another, and another - Pac loses himself to the chore, simply collecting jelly for the happiness of a child.

He thinks he's finally calmed down, when he spots another in a cave. Pac doesn't even think about it as he dives in after - but very quickly, it gets very dark.

Too dark.

He tries to ignore it, to push through and find the jelly even as memories start to loom and the dark closes in.

Breathe in, breathe out, remind yourself your helmet is in place and with that much Aqua Affinity you're fine.

It's not the underwater prison again, it's not, it's not.

Just find the jelly and get out...

On instinct he reaches out for Mike, and finds nothing.

Nothing.

Mike? What happened to Mike?

The most frustrating thing is always that he knows, he remembers, but in the dark and the wet and the unnatural silence it doesn't matter. His breathing picks up, and he twists and he turns, looking - screaming - for Mike.

Rationally, he knows he's lightheaded because hes hyperventilating. But in his heart, in his fear, it doesn't matter, it doesn't matter, it doesn't change anything because he's alone in the wet and the dark and he /can't do this anyone/.

He wants Mike, he wants Mike, he wants Fit and he wants Mike.

Where is Mike, why can't he reach him, where is he where is he why can't he feel him in his mind?!

He's screaming for them, he thinks, even as tears stream down his face and he twists in the water. By now he's helplessly lost, not even able to find the exit he cane in by. Whatever light there was is gone, and he doesn't even quite remember why he's here.

He twists and he fights, trying to fend off hands that aren't there - only to get his leg twisted up in the seaweed and somehow everything is even worse and worse and worse. He tugs and tugs, but the seaweed grasps tighter - he sees dark prison walls overlaying dark, broken caves, and he sobs as he realises he is going to die here.

He screams again and wonders how he still has air; something responds this time, and he begs it for bitter, screaming help.

A small light he cannot focus on, and hands find their way to his leg. In a panic he twists, kicks, fights - nothing, nothing, nothing can touch him - it's worse than the seaweed, to be grabbed by a hand.

"Shit, Pac," a familiar voice calls, an odd quality to it. "Fuck, I'm just cutting you out, Jesus mate no need to break my nose."

The words don't make sense, not entirely, but seconds later Pac finds his leg free - still entangled, but the seaweed cut from the floor, and he does his best to swim away.

Right from the seaweed and slamming into the cave wall.

Hands grab him again, and say something, and he fights them all the same. Seconds later he's being dragged and pulled and - oh, god, this is how he's going to die.

He goes to fight before remembering, actually, dieing might not be so bad actually... At worst he'll respawns, at best he'll be with Mike again.

It's just as that thought crosses his mind that his head breaks the surface of the ocean. Pac gasps for air and, by the time he's processed that, he's being hoisted and yanked up onto the ice.

He's frozen, he's freezing, but he shakes off the worst of the water and shudders as sunlight presses into his skin.

He's crying - sobbing even - on his hands and his knees, blind terror all about him as he struggles to breathe.

"Aw, mate, you could have said no if it was gonna fuck you up."

There's someone else here; Pac's eyes glance around, only to find Philza there. He can't tell if the man is a friend or a foe or just an acquaintance to be embarrassed around, but the man shrugs off his bag and opens his arms in a familiar gesture.

Pac falls into them, and hides. A hand finds his hair, and another his back, and something very dark curls around to protect him from icy wind. He does not cling back, just cries to the sound of slightly awkward comfort, sucking it in.

"You're okay," the words sound so much more believable coming from someone else. "You got out, I've got you, you're safe, you're okay."

The words are whispered into his skin, and they're not quite a balm but they are a promise and a kindness none the less; he is promised safety, and he knows the man around him can provide.

He just... Did not expect that provision to include himself, only friends of friends as they are.

Pac breathes, and it comes easier now - the air is cold, but between the darkness and Philza's chest he is safe. Slowly, slowly, as he remembers what limbs are Pac reaches out a shaking hand to the void.

It finds feathers; the darkness tenses, and then relaxes to his touch.

Pac, in turn, relaxes with it.

"You good?" Philza eventually asks from above.

"Sim," Pac replies, gathering himself a little more, hiding himself in a laugh. "Sorry, sorry, that was embarrassing."

"We've all been there mate," Fit's friend says.

The wings peel away, and Pac can see them properly - tattered edges and all. Sees how they droop, and the strain in Philza's shoulders as he uses his hands to fold them, and his backpack to keep them in pace.

"Shall we get somewhere warmer?" he asks, before Pac can comment. "I've got a treasure map to somewhere near that mesa you and Fit showed me, if you've still got the warp?"

"Are you sure?" Pac's hands shake as he checks his things.

"Eh, I'm pretty sure it's an iron dungeon," Philza replies, pulling out a map and squinting at it. "I was saving it to troll Etoiles with, but I could actually do with more iron. And someone to deal with mobs while I mine it. You, me, and some skellies - sound good?"

Pac isn't sure; he doesn't want to think, though, he does know that. Dungeons are supposed to be his and Fit's /thing/, one half the time someone intrudes on. The offer almost feels insulting, but...

But when Philza felt bad, they offered him a dungeon - he so clearly means to offer the same. Like for like, not pity but a trade.

"I want the tracks and redstone," Pac tries to sound steady, and knows he fails. "I'll save it for Mike when he returns."

"Sure, I don't even know where to start with that shit," Philza takes Pac's hand, and leads him along a safe route over the ice. "If we go back to that haunted rock area, then glide back towards the mesa? I should be able to find us on the map from there."

Pac nods, placing his hand on the warpstone in advance. Philza's joins it, and together they warp away.

---

Thankfully it is dawn, and any monsters are gone this time - there's just the beautiful sunrise over the haunted sea. The sun is rising, not setting, but Pac waves to it anyway and hopes that, somewhere, Bobby can see.

Philza makes half a laugh as he finds his glider. Pac searches for his own, and tries not to remember the night on the cliff - him and Fit, him and Fit, but also Philza, laughing about cannons and resting in one another's arms, only for Philza to pull away first and let him and Fit be.

Pac instead thinks about friendship, and how Fit would abandon everything for Philza just as Pac would give it up for Mike, and how it seems that isn't limited to just them. Because Philza didn't send him home, just as Fit also kept close to an oddly behaving Mike. How it doesn't really matter, because in the end they both agree with where the other stands.

Pac instead thinks of nothing, and throws himself off a cliff after Philza.

For one glorious second he lets himself fall, before pulling out his own paraglider and following Philza down.

He lands on Philza's boat, and they drive it back to the mesa. It's filled with the sort of talk that means nothing, and with Philza humming tunes to the air. For a man who claims to be musically dead, he manages it well.

It's also noise, white noise to blur the absence in his mind.

"Here we are," Philza gets out first, and offers Pac a hand out. "We should be pretty close. These things are a bit of a nightmare to find, being underground, but I'm sure we'll manage."

To his surprise, Pac is passed the map while Philza puts away the boat. He has to turn it around to orientate himself, but once he has Philza gestures for him to lead the way. Philza puts himself on Pac's left - the side he holds the map, whilst his other has his scythe, shield turned out against the wild.

Pac tries to think of something to say, and what comes out is, "so did you go looking for a big cannon, or did you just stumble into it?"

The comment draws startled laughter from his companion as they walk, having to stop a moment to let him gather himself. "We knew we were going to see one, but we're exactly looking. You find them all over the coast in the UK, and I think some along the Thames too? A lot have been removed, but we like our old crap, so a couple of the old forts are still open."

"So you're saying you come from a land of many large cannons."

"Yes, Pac," Philza laughs again. "Yes, I do; don't you?"

"We have other large things instead," Pac tries to smile, but he knows it looks off. "Like diamonds."

"Diamonds?"

Pac can see Philza looking for the sex joke, and suddenly realises he doesn't actually want to explain what he meant. So instead he says, "quality over size. Even a big diamond is small."

That draws more laughter, "yeah okay mate; Fit's a lucky boy then."

That almost has Pac dropping the map he's holding as he chokes. Philza grabs him, holds him steady, gives him something to cling to with Mike and Fit and Richarlyson and Walter Bob all gone. Something there, some support, something to stop him choking on himself.

"Too much?" Philza's voice is gentler this time.

Pac nods, hiding his blush in his hands even as he leans on Philza.

"Alright," Philza says, handing him a bottle. "Drink some water, king, and we'll get this dungeon cleared. And no more dick jokes until Fit's also here to suffer. Maybe we could even come up with some new ones, just to tease him next time we all meet up."

Pac takes the bottle, hiding in his hood as he does as he's told. Philza takes the map and they continue to walk as he sips at it, hiding himself and his face in the bottle. Philza makes sure to stay in sight, keeping idle commentry going.

At this point, Pac is reasonably sure Philza knows something continues to be wrong - but then so did Fit and Pac when Philza had that strange... Maybe hallucination? Fit says it probably wasn't, and Pac trusts Fit, but whatever it was it was unsettling and strange.

Philza seems fine now, though; maybe one day Pac will be fine too.

It is about ten or fifteen minutes walk to the dungeon. There's nothing on the surface to mark it, just Philza squinting at the map, and passing it to Pac to check.

Once they agree, they dig; Philza calls 'race you!' and begins a staircase.

Pac lives for adrenaline; he starts digging straight down.

Somehow he doesn't hit lava.

He does end up falling from the top of the dungeon into a crevasse, fails to find either a water bucket or his paraglider, and breaks his leg. It's terrifying, and he's alone as he sees his death message flash up in chat but - maybe - it's okay. There's Aypierre laughing and Baghera offering help, and Philza on his black paraglider swooping in from the ceiling to assist.

"You good?" Philza asks as he pours a potion out over the wounds, his eyes almost glowing in the low light as Pac's bones knit together.

Pac leans forwards to check his prosthetic while his body heals, twitching only a little with the pain. The fall knocked a few screws loose and bent some of the metal out of shape, but it's an easy enough fix with a hammer and screwdriver. He'll check it over properly later, or maybe swap it for his spare until he has energy for it, but it'll hold for the day.

"All good," Pac confirms, as he pulls his jeans back down.

He can see Philza side-eyeing the prosthetic, and shifts; the man says nothing, however, just helps Pac up and types out an 'all good we're just dungeoning' to calm the global chat.

And then he looks at his map.

"You've got us near a corner," Philza turns his communicator to show Pac. "If we just start here and work around to the left, we shouldn't miss anything."

Pac nods, and pulls out his grapple. Together they pull themselves up and onto the ledge, and the dungeon begins.

It starts simple - Philza takes out a spawner, while Pac works on the skeletons, then they swap so Pac can loot the minetracks. Trading the mobs on and off, Pac cannot help but notice how Philza even when on mob duty prioritises looting, catching the attention of a swamp of skeletons and sending them on a chase over barrels as he smashes them open and grabs the contents. Only when he can carry no more does he start fighting, laughing as he does.

It's a nice laugh, that one.

He laughs too when Pac fights, hacking away at the iron blocks he claims to want. With every other hit there is a call of "good hit!" "nice one!" "you're doing good, Pac!", and Pac can feel himself starting to grin as well.

Together they dance in a dungeon much easier than the one Phil joined Pac and Fit for, able to let loose without worrying for the giant magma cube around the corner. They keep an eye on each other, and watch their backs, and Fit's deep voice is so clearly missing between them without feeling like a void.

By the time it is finished, they are both laughing, bone-dust covering their clothes and their tools and the world in their hands. Philza gives Pac some of the iron, and they take his staircase - not Pac's hole - out.

They don't talk about what comes next, but neither of them reach for their warpstones. Instead Pac picks a direction and walks. Philza follows.

They find a hill a little way out, surrounded by flower fields but empty of them itself. Philza lights it up with his slingshot, despite it still being around midday, and Pac makes hot chocolate for them both. Pulls out chairs, too - blue and green - and places a coffee table between them.

He sits on the blue and Philza looks at the green and says, "are you sure I'm okay to sit there? I don't wanna intrude."

Pac looks at the chair - it was just habit, just what he carries - and curls up his toes. "It's fine," he can hear the sadness in his own voice. "Mike isn't here, he wouldn't mind."

"Do you mind?"

"I got it out for you."

"Alright, king," Philza finally takes the seat and the hot chocolate, leaning back into the cushions. After a bit he adds, "these are good chairs. Maybe I should invest in something better than mine."

"They're not expensive," Pac replies. "And they're comfy! I have one instead of a bed."

He wonders if he should have admitted that - he knows people worry - but in the crash of the panic attack and the fighting it's hard to keep his mouth shut.

Philza just laughs though, "yeah? I've been using one of those wooden ones. You know? Basic ones, just in a fancy wood."

"How do you not have splinters?!"

"I'm good with my hands - what else can I say?"

They both laugh at that one, a joke which actually lands. There's something comfortable and comforting about it. The laughter drifts into giggles, drifts into sips of hot chocolate - quiet and together. Pac makes a point of not watching as Philza gets himself comfortable, untangling his wings and stretching them... Not to full width, but wide.

It's only when one brushes his arm that Pac dares to ask "what happened?"

"Hm?" Philza looks up.

"To your wings?"

"Feds fucked them up when I arrived," Philza says it like its nothing, but there's bitter pain in his words. "By purgatory they'd healed up just enough to fly, but then carrying Tubbo through meteor strikes and radiation... I can't regret it, I /won't/ regret it, but they're fucked again. I can hold them up so it seems better, but they hurt worse than before."

Pac wants to say he's sorry, but he doesn't think it would be appreciated. Instead he says "thank you for saving Tubbo."

"I couldn't just leave him," Philza says. "He's my friend too, you know?"

"I know," Pac fiddles with his cup. "You're a good man, Felipe Minecraft. I'm not sure I'd do it."

"I think you would," Philza says, with more faith in Pac than he's ever had in himself. "If it came to it. You're also a good man, Pac - if you weren't, I wouldn't let you have Fit."

It's an admission neither of them acknowledge. Instead Pac flops, exhausted, against his chair. "I'd do it for Mike. I miss him."

"I can't imagine," Philza's wings stretch a little further, stroking against Pac's cheek. "But, I'm sure he'll heal. And once he does hold him close, okay? Because you never know when you'll loose him."

It's obvious, of course Pac will try to, but there's pain in Philza's voice, and Pac thinks of a memorial on a wall and a child living in the footsteps of a ghost, and maybe Philza can imagine better than he thinks he can.

Or maybe Philza means he can't imagine, because he knows.

"Did you love him?" Pac asks instead.

"He was my best friend."

Philza's voice breaks on the word, and Pac knows both that he has to stop, and that Philza knows just what it is Pac fears. Even if he calls it different, even if they didn't share one mind... Pac should not have asked.

"I'm sorry."

"You did nothing wrong; it hurts, but in hurting I remember him, you know?"

There's a long silence, in which Pac tries to know what to say, and Philza stares absently at soft clouds on the horizon. Even in Portuguese he would struggle, and Philza is certainly not looking to his translator.

Maybe Philza and Fit are not as Pac and Mike; Philza has already lost his Mike. Or, perhaps, both are true, and even if Pac looses his best friend, someone will be there to keep him whole.

It's a nice fantasy; he knows Philza's wound bleeds open even now.

"I have never been without Mike before this island," Pac eventually admits. "At least... I was seven when we met, he was five. I've heard his thoughts since I was ten, and the first time he ever fell silent was when I was put in that water prison."

"Shit," Philza closes his eyes as he swears, leaning back. "Earlier, with the water... You should have said something, Pac, I wouldn't have judged you. Fuck knows there's shit I can't do anymore."

"I didn't know it'd be that bad," Pac hesitates after those words. "It hasn't been before. Today is just... bad? I already felt bad."

"And you came to me for company, and I made it worse," Philza says. "I am so, so sorry mate - I didn't mean to, I just- It was for Chayanne."

"It was still better than being alone," Pac replies. "The second time our connection broke was when he was taken - I haven't heard him since. Even asleep, even unconscious, even when I was in a coma... We could still feel each other. Not now. It's lonely no, and it's been so long..."

"Pac..." Philza's voice catches. "You shouldn't have to make those choices... You shouldn't have to put up with my whims just not to be alone, mate, you should have just said; we could have gone to the dungeon, or the favela, worked on the train tracks... You didn't have to swim."

"Fit is gone, Mike is gone, Richas is gone," Pac twists his hands. "You were helping me. I wanted to help you - I wanted to do something for Chayanne too! He is a good egg."

"He is," Philza smiles softly, taking the distraction for what it is. "The best. But, king, are you going to be okay?"

"When am I not?" Pac asks, as he thinks of happy pills and his own blood trailing the floors of Chume Labs.

Philza gives him a distinctly unimpressed expression and, yeah, fair, "I'm serious, Pac; I don't have plans today if you just wanna chill somewhere. Here, my place, your place, the Favela... if the karaoke's working, we could steal a room? Hell, we can just keep heading outwards and find some more dungeons if you fancy violence instead."

"... Are you sure?"

"We're friends, aren't we?" Philza asks. "We don't get to hang out as often as we should - if you'd rather get some rest, I won't stop you. Just thought I'd offer."

"Karaoke then?" Pac suggests, if only for some structure to keep the anxiety from seeping back in.

"Sure. No promises I won't fall asleep on the couch, though."

Pac laughs. It is weaker, but it is more real. "No promises, no promises here either."

In time they do, of course, fall asleep on the couch - and that is where Fit will find them in the morning.

[metalbvcky]

Recently I've been in this "we need to find our next big multi-chap WIP" mood since I'm insanely close to finishing up writing Aster, and my brain is torn between two options

1) Doctor Steve + Patient Bucky, Modern AU, rich kid Bucky who's like, "I have an unknown illness that no one seems to understand, a father who wants me to pursue real estate, and a desire to find love in the hopeless shithole known as my own separate wing of my parents' mansion."

2) Post TWS recovery fic, Steve getting Bucky back and the two growing and rediscovering each other, possibly with Avengers missions and Bucky feels and all that

The first I already have a planning doc going (for two years now!!) with several notes and ideas, yet the second I only thought of recently. What's the deal, brain? I've been wanting to write that doctor/patient AU for so long now and I feel like I might be able to tackle it after After (there's also the uh, wedding fic, god knows how long that'll be) yet I'm suddenly in the mood for canon typical violence and Winter Soldier Bucky??? lolol

So yeah. Anyway, this is just a lil brain dump rant because I'm being tossed around with all these ideas and need somewhere to get em out. Toying with ideas is fun, and even though I've never written a TWS longfic (it's on the bucket list), I'll probably stick to reading xD

But while I'm here, I'm a bit curious, even though I stick to writing what the loudest muse tells me to

[amethystina]

Hi! Do you think about making a analysis on the last episode of TDJ? (If you haven't done already) I just rewatched this ep the other day and I feel like no matter how many times I watch it, there will always be something that surprises me. Every episode does this to me actually.

Not the last episode as a whole, no, since that would probably make my brain explode xD Like, it's just too big? ANY episode would be too big considering the number of details, plot points, character moments etc. they contain. I wouldn't even know where to start analysing a full episode, at least not in the way I usually write my metas.

I'd need a narrower framework to build my analysis on, like a specific relationship, a specific scene, a specific plotline, a specific theory etc. Which is why my two more detailed metas so far are very contained with very clear goals. That's how much I have to narrow it down to be able to accurately convey something, because otherwise there would just be too much information for me to condense into something coherent. And I would have no idea in what order to present things. Not to mention that I'd be terrified of missing something important because the scope would be too big.

(I'm also just a terribly wordy person who can't write short things to save my life. Can you IMAGINE how long that analysis would be? x'D)

I obviously have a lot of details and ideas stored in my brain, but in order to convey them in a way that's actually digestible to other people, I need some sort of prompt or structure first. And, sometimes, that structure can actually be a fanfic. I'm not joking when I say that Who Holds the Devil is basically a gigantic meta at this point, because I'm pouring ALL of my thoughts and observations from the drama into it.

Which, in all honesty, if I had known that when I started? Then I probably wouldn't have written the fic x'D Because it's so, so daunting to go: "Alright, I'm going to summarize all my thoughts and feelings about this piece of media into this one work!" Granted that this one work is huge enough to fit A LOT of thoughts and feelings, but it's still a pretty insane endeavour.

Anyway! I'm sorry if that's a bit of a disappointing answer. I just don't think that my specific brand of analysis would be all that efficient on such a broad scale. I'm more of a detail-oriented person? So it would have to be something specific from the last episode, not the episode as a whole.

[jakeperalta]

happy friday to everyone except my coworker who asked if I could help with a couple of things and then dumped a mountain of work on me with less than 1.5 hours left of the week 🙃

[error404vnotfound]

gotta love the "hey I made this playlist for our trip add whatever songs but nothing weird"

like, gee, thanks. don't need to single me out like that man. guess I won't add a single song

can't wait to be listening to trap and reggeaton 24/7 for 4 days my brain is going to love it :)

[nyxi-pixie]

microwave viability surverys being like 'mike doesnt like will back theres no evidence' is so funny bc it really proves my theory that the st general audience is.. fucking stupid

almost Every Single Canon Couple (and non canon too) on the fucking show has to be set up Through Other Characters bc the gen audience straight up wont understand otherwise

genuinely the only cases of this not happening that i can think of is susie and dustin (who got tgthr off screen and we as the audience are just told theyre tgthr) and lumax(arguably bc they were def getting there anyway but we do have dustins 'i felt the electricity' thing so??)

like does someone have to bonk mike on the head and be like "YOURE GAY FOR WILL" before the general audience agrees that theres proof for reciprocated byler😭😭😭

[mishkakagehishka]

I wanna write poetry but i can't write poetry so i shall simply write purple prose

[purple-is-great]

I have a lot of shit to do but the most urgent is to watch a video of a presentation i did today and write some self assessment, and oh god i really really don't want to do this

I know that once i do it it'll be over (except that i'm supposed to watch it at least twice), but i hate thinking and writing about myself and i hate hearing my own voice recorded

[arsenicflame]

"Remember the day you died alone. Died, in watching her die"

ANGELA: QUEEN OF HEL #2

[wyvernquill]

Damn, the finale of my Dreamling Soulmate AU sure is making me fight for it... 

It’s also getting quite long, so I’m wondering if I should maybe split it in two - except that would drag out the time before the long-awaited reunion and all even further, and I can tell that my readers are already chomping at the bit for that sweet sweet resolution. Hmm...

[wingkink]

ok i already talked about this. and i get it i GET it okay that it's a game and the desires of the players sometimes have to come before the npcs. with that out of the way it makes me so mad when i think about how when trent threatens essek THAT is what makes caleb say "we were too easy on him before, this time we have to kill him". hang on i gotta make a

[cruelsister-moved2]

im biased as a masc woman enjoyer but its getting super annoying when people will just assume by default that a fictional masculine woman who articulates herself as a woman over & over MUST just be a transphobic/misunderstood-by-the-creators/outddated depiction of a trans man/agender person. once again, not because i care abt the Fictional Character Wars but because sometimes you’re looking at a gender identity/presentation inhabited by real people in the real world and saying “oh no, I know what you are, you’re a man! you must just be confused, or not have the language to say that you’re a man!” [or otherwise not a woman] even when they are vocally telling you that they’re a woman 

[honestlyvan]

wip ask game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descript or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it!

1st half

2nd half

a little less of a problem

a rarepair

ABACA

aggretsuko-fixit

all these choices are bad

Assorted

Biomechanics Appendices

Biomechanics chap5

Biomechanics chap6

Biomechanics chap7

biomechanics glossary

bleh

blood knight

chastity

dodon

Drinking

fast

filth dirt and prostitution

first do no harm

fisting

fraternisation

gaaahhh

gq article

Gun flirting

hedonism

horny

Lovealikes

mean drunk

Moonlight underwater

Nice PL thing

on repeat

OPDOG

porn dump fine

rarepair (all caps)

retrieval

Sad spark sex

Seq 1+2

Shrine Life

the Praxian gambit

three helis

trashy mg shit

wah

Unlike Red I am mean and horrible and won’t be telling you shit about the context of any of these :) have fun!

[likeimhomeagain]

hello baby!!! how are you!!! how are you feeling about this new season, give me all your thoughts

Hii 💙 I’m good thank youu, tbh I haven’t been keeping up with much football wise recently bc I’ve been abroad and also havent been on twitter for a while so I’m feeling a bit out of the loop lmao.. bernardo yearly saga seems to have no end and it’s acc upsetting bc I genuinely love him sm and while ik not everyone sees it this way to me it seems like it’s the last thing someone like him would want for the end of his time at city. While I understand the response to an extent I rly don’t like how a lot of city fans have this tendency to immediately slander players who decide to leave and put down their achievements and everything they gave for the club (ferran sterling etc), obvs every case is different and in some cases it’s more justified than others but still.. and yeah all that stuff aside my feelings abt the season in general are mixed, like on the one hand the match and the way haaland has fitted in so seamlessly gives me confidence, i mean every city fan knew those predictions for him to flop were misinformed and driven mostly by jealousy but seeing it all come together as we knew it would is reassuring nonetheless, he’s young and it won’t be 100% smooth sailing ofc but hopefully it takes off a bit of pressure at least for him. On the other hand tho the squad does seem Quite Thin atm which I feel like could hurt us more as the season goes on. I’m not rly one for predictions ngl my football knowledge is sooo limited like I feel like a massive fraud sometimes, there’s much better qualified city fans than me dhshd but yeah I guess those are my thoughts🥲 ily thank you for asking

[diluc33rpm]

1/3 Describe the next five years of your life, and your plans, in a single sentence

i’ll shake the apples from my family tree, so when the autumn comes to take the leaves we’ll write history books from memories that we shared and will forget—well, i don’t remember 2012, but i heard the world would turn to hell, and compared to that, well i’m doing well, so i pray to god it really did; well, they always ask you not to leave (and i am as they remember me) so, when all my friends forget my name, no, i won’t come back and be the same, and i’m gonna be my self again.