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Good timezone!! I'm Star and I will reblog a GREAT variety of things but I mostly write! At the moment I'm mostly writing for Formula 1 and my F1 OCs, but I also write for Genshin Impact (lots of ChiLumi), Persona 5 (lots of ShuMako) and more as seen on my AO3!!
Feel free to drop any and all random asks/messages, I love meeting new people on here <3
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is the reason totems only work for steve because they Believe they work, or is there something that happens when they touch one, that the evokers are trying to extract/exploit?
So glad someone asked-
Totems work for anyone. In game, if you give a mob a Totem and kill it, it will be revived just like Steve would. The reason Totems don't work for Evokers, is because they're not charged.
To charge one, you gotta give it a living sacrifice so it traps their soul inside it.
Raids themselves are not just for looting, but are giant sacrifice rituals. For both Totems and just because Illagers are all about ritualistic killing. You will be sacrificed for our glorious crusade against the world!!
However this also makes it so that during Raids, the Evokers themselves end up the sacrifices...
Both Illager and Villager souls can work. (Piglins could as well, but nobody has ever tried)
Only adult souls can charge the Totem. Villagers preferred cuz those guys have a strange natural aptitude towards life. They have a chance of circumventing death and becoming undead upon a zombie attack, and their lifestyle is marked by hard work and survival.
It is unknown if the souls inside the totems are still conscious.
It never works on trapping Steve's 'soul'... seems that they don't have anything like that at all...
some of you weren’t around for the fan fiction dot net purge of 2002 (when they banned explicit content and mass-deleted thousands of fics) and the livejournal purge of 2007 (when they deleted hundreds of blogs, disproportionately targeting queer & kink content) and it shows
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graphics are not my own; I find most assets through pinterest or canva! credit isn't required to use but is appreciated along with liking and reblogging!
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Summery: When a friend asks her to cut ties with a former friend who's been acting strangely, Reader takes it as a sign that her judgment isn't trusted. A tense conversation leaves her feeling guilty and unsure of herself—but Oscar helps her see the misunderstanding from both sides, reminding her that sometimes the space between what we say and what others hear is where things get complicated.
Standard disclaimer: I do not consent to the posting, translating, or publishing of my work to any 3rd party site, the only place it may found is on tumblr or A03 under the same name. This is all fake. It does not reflect real people, real events or their actual actions or relationships. May contain google translated languages.
A/N: Personal feelings projected with this one is all I gotta say.
The argument hadn't exactly been an argument. At least, that was what she kept telling herself. It had been a conversation. A conversation that had gotten tense. A conversation where she'd been a little sharper than she meant to be.
A conversation that had ended with her friend going quiet, picking up her bag, and saying, “Okay. I'll let you think about it.”
Which somehow felt worse than if they'd actually yelled at each other.
She sat on the couch in the apartment, knees tucked against her chest, staring blankly at the television.
It had been almost an hour.
She hadn't watched a single second of whatever was playing.
Her phone sat facedown beside her. She'd already picked it up six times. Put it down six times. Typed three different messages. Deleted all of them. She knew she'd been snippy. That was the part she couldn't stop replaying.
Her friend hadn't even been asking something unreasonable, necessarily.
It had started with the former friend. Erika.
Someone who had somehow managed to remain orbiting their lives despite no longer actually being part of hers.
The messages had gotten strange lately.
Little digs.
Passive-aggressive comments.
Reacting to things involving her best friend with pointed little emojis.
Making comments about how “some people really show their true colors.”
And when her friend had asked her to block her, she'd immediately bristled.
Not because she particularly wanted this person in her life.
She didn't.
But because something about the request had hit a nerve.
You should block her.
Why?
Because she doesn't like me.
Okay. And?
She's being weird.
So?
Why are you defending her?
That one had gotten under her skin.
“I wasn't defending her,” she'd said.
“I know.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I don't understand why you won't just block her.”
“Because I can handle someone being weird.”
Her friend's expression had changed. And that was where she'd made everything worse.
“I know you can.”
“Then what is this about?”
“I just don't want her around.”
“She isn't around.”
“She still has access to you.”
“She follows me on Instagram.”
“You know that's not what I mean.”
And she'd sighed. Actually sighed. Like a teenager. Then she'd said the thing she regretted most.
“So you don't trust me to make my own decisions?”
Her friend had blinked. “What?”
“You clearly think I'm incapable of deciding who I should have in my life.”
“That is absolutely not what I said.”
“You don't have to say it.”
“I really don't know what you want me to say right now.”
And then she'd gotten quiet. Defensive. And eventually her friend had left. Now she was alone with the consequences.
The front door opened. She didn't look up. She heard the familiar shuffle of shoes being kicked off, followed by the soft thud of a bag hitting the floor.
A few seconds later, the couch dipped beside her.
“Hey.”
She swallowed.
“Hi.”
Her boyfriend looked at her.
Oscar had been at the circuit all day, still wearing the remnants of his team gear beneath his jacket. His hair was slightly messy, exhaustion evident around his eyes.
But his attention was entirely on her.
“You okay?”
She gave a tiny shrug.
“No.”
He waited. She appreciated that about him. He never rushed her into talking.
Eventually, she whispered, “I think I hurt her feelings.”
He frowned slightly. “Your friend?”
She nodded.
“What happened?”
She hesitated.
Then, because she knew he'd listen without immediately taking sides, she told him everything.
The request. The former friend. The messages. Her irritation. The way she'd interpreted the request. The argument. The guilt afterward.
When she finished, she tucked her chin against her knees. “I was mean.”
“You were frustrated.”
“I was mean.”
“You were probably both.”
She finally looked at him. Oscar smiled faintly.
“I'm not going to tell you that you weren't snippy just because I love you.”
Despite herself, she let out a tiny laugh. “Thanks.”
“But…” He leaned back into the couch. “I don't think this was actually about blocking someone.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I think you heard one thing, and she meant something completely different.”
She stayed quiet.
He continued carefully. “You heard, ‘I don't trust you to deal with this yourself.’”
Her eyes dropped. “Yeah.”
“And I think she meant, ‘This person makes me uncomfortable, and I don't want someone who treats me badly to have access to my friend.’”
She rubbed her thumb against the seam of her sleeve.
“But she said I should block her.”
“Because that's probably what would make her feel better.”
“That doesn't mean I have to.”
“No.” He nudged her knee with his. “And I don't think you should block someone simply because someone else tells you to.”
She looked at him.
“Exactly.”
“But…”
Her shoulders fell. “There it is.”
He smiled. “But I also think you turned her request into a judgment about you.”
She went still.
He wasn't accusing her.
If anything, his voice was impossibly gentle.
“You thought she was questioning your judgment. So instead of hearing what she was actually saying, you started defending yourself against something she wasn't saying.”
She stared at the floor.
“And then,” he continued, “because you felt like she didn't trust you, you got defensive. And because you got defensive, she probably felt like you were choosing this other person over her.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She groaned softly and dropped her forehead against her knees.
“Oh, God.”
He laughed quietly.
“That's basically the entire misunderstanding.”
“I feel awful.”
“You don't have to.”
“I was so unnecessarily bitchy.”
“Probably.”
She lifted her head. He gave her an apologetic smile.
“Sorry.”
She shoved his shoulder and he laughed.
Then his expression softened. “Being wrong about how you interpreted something doesn't make you a bad friend.”
“I should've just listened.”
“Probably.”
“And not gotten defensive.”
“Probably.”
“And not sighed.”
“Definitely not the sigh.”
She groaned.
“The sigh was bad.”
“The sigh was catastrophic.”
She laughed again, despite herself. Then she went quiet. “I don't want her to think I don't care.”
“She won't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you're sitting here feeling guilty enough to mentally reconstruct the entire conversation word for word.”
She blinked.
“You do know me.”
“Unfortunately.”
She smiled.
He reached over, taking her hand. “You care about her. She cares about you. You both got protective of yourselves for different reasons.”
She looked down at their intertwined fingers.
“What do I do?”
“Tell her.”
“Just… tell her?”
“Yeah.”
“What if she's still mad?”
“She might be.”
Her face fell.
“But that's okay,” he added. “You don't apologize because you're guaranteed forgiveness. You apologize because you recognize that you hurt someone.”
She looked at him.
He squeezed her hand.
“And you can still tell her that you don't want to block this person just because she asked you to. Those two things can exist at the same time.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“I think I owe her an apology.”
“I think you do.”
“And maybe I should explain why I reacted like that.”
“Definitely.”
She nodded slowly.
Then she leaned against his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head.
“Anytime.”
A beat passed.
Then he added, “Although, for the record, I think the biggest issue here is that both of you apparently communicate like Formula 1 team principals.”
She snorted. “What does that even mean?”
“Everyone is saying twelve things while pretending they're only saying one.”
She laughed for real this time, finally letting some of the tension leave her body.
“That's actually terrifyingly accurate.”
“I know.”
She picked up her phone. Her thumb hovered over her friend's contact.
“What should I say?”
He glanced down.
“Whatever you actually mean.”
She looked at him.
He smiled.
“And maybe don't start with, ‘I'm sorry you misunderstood me.’”
She winced but she unlocked her phone. And this time, she started typing. Not because she'd been told to. Not because she needed to fix everything immediately. But because she'd finally understood what had gone wrong.
She had thought her friend was questioning her judgment.
Her friend had simply been asking to feel heard.
And somewhere between those two things, they'd both gotten hurt.
Maybe that was something they could fix. Especially if she was willing to admit that, sometimes, being right about one thing didn't mean she'd been right about everything.
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