It's funny because it happened on the same day!

A short explanation of how Reapers coordinate with the other shattered souls they've bonded with.

It's fairly simple, but can be complicated!

Benign Reapers, like Sept and Doom, are shattered souls and they can bond with other shattered souls to form more of a whole. They support one another and sort of "fill in the gaps", if you will. The other souls are still their own separate beings - they are still there and still have their own presence and their own thoughts and memories, they are just more in the back seat. In Sept and Doom's case, Sept is the one who is driving, and in Doom's case she is the one driving.

Generally speaking, when shattered souls bond like this, there is overall harmony. When it comes to decision-making, most of the time all the souls can come to an agreement pretty quickly - or near instantaneously - and the driver can act instantaneously as a result.

Like, if you were to ask Doom to protect a loved one from a bullet, she wouldn't even have to think about it - all souls would instantly agree, and she'd take the bullet for them. There'd be no debate, no delay. She'd just do it. But if you were to ask her to do something like what she was considering doing recently - i.e. having her own memories of certain people erased - well, that's a bit trickier. Not all of her souls agreed on that. Some wanted to go through with it while others did not, so there was a lot of hesitation. She could have forced herself to do it, but it would have gone against the will of some of her other souls. In that case, what could have happened is some of the souls could have unbonded from her if they'd wanted.

In essence, shattered souls can unbond from the soul in front at any time if they no longer want to be bonded with them.

And added layer to this with Doom in particular is, in all technicality, none of her other souls are shattered. They were injured, but not shattered. The Dampening mist never got the other Thursday souls that Doom took and bonded with - she pulled them out of that Thursday's body at the exact moment of her death, cut it with her blade so it would bond easier, and then bonded it with her own. The reason the bond has stuck at all is because the soul was willing. Any of them can leave so easily at any time.

it makes perfect sense. niffty’s job is pest control

shes known for stabbing roaches

"so, funny thing..." it's said with the beaming grin that buck can't seem to lose in tommy's presence, his fingers working to unzip his jacket - revealing the LAFD crest across his right breast, proudly emblazoned with 217 rather than 118. buck taps the tip of his index finger against the digits as he slides into the chair next to @doomdays, snorting and rolling his eyes in tandem. "chim very gladly pointed out that this is actually your shirt. i musta grabbed it by accident this morning. so, ah... my bad." there's hardly any real regret in the words, though; buck's amusement is clear instead, teeth catching his lower lip in a half-hearted attempt to dim his smile.

I personally find AI art concerning. It was cute at first with the "nuns skateboarding" thing but now that it can replicate real people's art styles....naur, some type of law has to be passed that makes it illegal to artificially recreate someone's art style without their consent. And even then, art will be devalued so much if it becomes commonplace to just *insert* a prompt and come out with high-quality results in a matter of seconds.

Artists have enough of a hard time making money as is without computers learning the one thing only humans can do: making art. Also ripping and tearing apart ai writing because what the hell, that's actually dystopian and scary af for creatives everywhere.

@doomdays: i thought you liked keeping things at arm's length.

“ can you shut the fuck up? ” mikayla grumbles, because she's already embarrassed to be in this position — her arms wrapped around van, tighter than she would have ever allowed when she was younger, because back then, she wouldn't let them touch at all, save for their one time mistake long before the crash even happened. she'll blame it on the relief she feels to finally be free, outside of the gates of her prison for the first time in years.

she's already let it linger for far too long, finding comfort she won't let herself admit to in her arms, so mikayla pulls back, arms dropping back to her sides as she takes a step backward. “ i'm just glad to be out. it's not a big deal. ” more than that, she's glad to see a familiar face, even if she won't let herself admit that much; her letters had been the only thing mikayla looked forward to within the last few years, so admittedly, she'd been looking forward to this, too, even if she's unwilling to consider why. “ i wasn't sure if you'd actually show up. ”

HENRY BURRELL (@doomdays) said "i wanted to thank you for helping me out."

Lev looks up from where he is brushing out Marsh, the horse that he'd taken a liking to whenever he is allowed out on patrol. Being so up close with an animal so majestic always captivated Lev, and he takes every chance he get to help care for the animals. It makes him feel like he's helping somehow, and doing something beyond just needing protection. Lev carefully hangs up the brush and gives Marsh one last pat before nudging him into his stall for the night.

"You're welcome." His words are slow, trying to match pace with clumsy fingers that have been trying to learn ASL for a while now. He had been intrigued from the moment he had seen Henry and Sam communicating. They'd had a different version of a similar type of language among the Seraphites, but he had never had the opportunity to learn. Lately, he's been spending evenings with Sam, laughing in the corner as the younger boy helps maneuver his fingers into the proper configurations. There's a part of Lev that worries he's doing it wrong, and inadvertently saying something he doesn't mean to, but no one has yelled at him yet. "Were you able to... finish his gift?" His fingers aren't sure if that translation works, but he feels like it's important to practice.

@doomdays: i've been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone.

“ i could have made them go away. ” her siblings would have listened, out of fear more than respect, but it's all the same to clarisse. if only she had known silena wanted her, she would have, with almost no hesitation. her cabin gets enough of her as it is. that's what she tells herself, ignoring the excitement in the pit of her stomach whenever silena's around, because while she knows what to do with anger, resentment, disappointment, she doesn't know what to do with that. “ i'm alone now, ” she says dryly, desperately trying not to sound worried, nervous, anything unlike herself. “ so talk. ”

cassie’s arms are bruised by the cold.    she tries to bury them under the covers,  but the heat seems to have abandoned them tonight--     no matter where she presses her hands,    her fingers grow blue and swollen in the darkness   (scraps of moonlight peek out from behind the curtains,    a howling wind caught on the trees outside...     she does not believe the world here has ever learned how to be silent).    she wants to cut out its tongue.   but what is the tongue of a tree?   the roots,  the branches,   the leaves?   even if she finds a knife sharp enough to cut,   she does not think that their silence will help her.    taissa is a warm center,   a little sun,   a sunlette.    with no other choice,   cassie presses their legs together,   stealing whatever warmth the other has kept sacred.   it is almost like worship,   to grasp at the little strands of heat and claim them as her own.      “   are you still awake?    ”     cassie murmured.   her hand reached out,   brushing against @doomdays.    “   i can’t sleep with all this rain.    ”

you two belong together. @doomdays

every muscle in her body grow tense, instinctually preparing herself to run, despite being in the only place she's allowed herself to talk about this. the look on her face is uncharacteristically unsure, because while she knows tai wants her, she's not sure if it goes any farther than that. “it's... not that serious.” mikayla hates how downhearted she sounds, because it shouldn't matter that much, but she's let herself care too much, just like she was afraid of. “she just likes sleeping with me, i think. i mean, obviously, she would but... that's it.” she pauses, looking up from her hands, the slightest spark of hope lighting up her eyes. “unless tara's told you different?”

❛ 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍, 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚋𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚟𝚎 𝚞𝚜 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚟𝚎𝚜. ❜ — ﹙ @DOOMDAYS﹚

A CURSED, UNENDING SEARCH — I'VE FOUND. the path to purification as densely wooded & endlessly winding as the forest that held them. the only mercy ever handed down through sacrifice, the spilling of blood. 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽𝙴𝚂𝚂 & 𝙸𝚃 𝙵𝙴𝙴𝙳𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺. maybe we never stopped to think about the consequences of cutting off it's supply. blind to how the debt has been collected over the years.

have they not all paid dearly? one way or another? chipped at across decades of supposed freedom. ❝ have you found it? forgiveness? ❞ i haven't. digging through the wreckage for years, she comes up empty every time. I AM ALL BLOODY HANDS, MESSY REGRET.

it seems to be a slow night at the bar... or perhaps it's just early. either way, buck sits awkwardly perched on a corner stool, shoulders hunched downward, staring dejectedly at his phone screen, reading and rereading the message from eddie: can't make it. christopher needs help with homework. maybe tomorrow. it's the latest in a recent string of hit-and-misses with them, promises made to hang out after work pushed back because of a number of reasons - all of which buck is sympathetic to, of course, his responses never less than understanding, but in this moment, his fingers hover above the keyboard, twitching with a neediness that burns from deep within his chest. he almost offers to come over and lend some aid; there's a veritable treasure trove of trivia facts in his head, after all, and who knows? some of it could be useful.

a practiced finger begins to type out the offer, only to pause mid-word, hesitation creasing buck's forehead for a brief second before his index finger furiously erases the sentence. he exhales an uneven breath, glances around at the middling crowd almost self-consciously, as if someone could see the sudden wave of doubt that washes over him, while an almost guilty hand shoves his phone into his pocket - out of sight, so that he can't torture himself by staring at the message any longer.

he turns his gaze instead to the meager dregs of beer in his bottle, grimacing at the sight. his eyes raise with the intent to call alden over, but the man's already on top of it, standing before buck with a fresh bottle, small drops of condensation rolling down its neck, and buck feels a smile quirking the corner of his mouth upward - surprising, given the sourness that'd begun to pool in the back of his mouth.

"my man," he says with an inclination of his head, accepting the drink. their fingers brush together with the action, a rush of warmth flooding from the point of contact, prompting buck to shudder - it rolls across him, quick, violent, and he clears his throat loudly, squeezing his fingers around the bottle. "it's like you can read my mind sometimes." @doomdays ♥

@doomdays: all women are hot to me.

“ that's fucking generous. ” judgement drips from her words, disgust painted across her features. her gaze flickers from van to misty, attempting to question their statement with that look alone. regina leans back, resting on the log behind her, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “ she's hot to you? really? ”

@doomdays: did you tell anyone else?

“ about what? ” mikayla aims for her tone to be flat, but instead it's bordering aggression, because she knows what van is talking about, and she doesn't want to think about it. the answer's no, because she doesn't even want to talk about it with her, let alone anyone else. and maybe it's stupid, to be afraid of that here, when they have much bigger problems to concern themselves with, when she's not sure if she's even going to see her father ever again in the first place, but it's the closest thing to normalcy she has, so she holds onto that fear anyway. she can't even bring herself to look at her, focusing instead on picking pebbles from the bottom of her shoe, her frown deepening. “ i don't know what you're talking about, so you can just go away. ”

AKILAH ( @doomdays ) said “take my hand.”

Van's not sure if she's the one avoiding the others, or the others are avoiding her, but she jumps when her self-imposed exile in the attic is interrupted. She's expecting Tai, maybe Nat, but not Akilah. The snarling in her ears that has haunted her since the attack, finally fades briefly and she realizes she must look completely absurd as she crouches in the corner, as though it might protect her from whatever predators are roaming outside. Never mind the fact that wolves can't open doors or climb ladders, but Van hasn't been able to take a single step outside of the cabin since she woke up 3 days ago with a stitched up face and a hellish fever. And then Laura Lee had gotten on that stupid fucking plane because of her and she was-

When Van pulls herself away from those thoughts, Akilah is still watching her, hand outstretched, and it's somehow the easiest thing in the world for Van to reach out and grasp it. Her fingers are warm, grounding and she remembers feeling the same gentle touch against her face as she put Van back together again. Bloodshot eyes soften and Van stands to her full height with the other girl's help.

"Thanks," she mumbles, her voice still a little garbled for fear of tearing the stitches. She's pretty sure that neither of them want to go through that again, and her lips purse into a worried frown. Akilah had been there, attacked by the same pack that she had been. Yet she had saved Van's life in the next breath, and it hit the redhead with a staggering force that the only reason she was still here right now was because of Akilah. Her grip tightens a little and she tugs on her hand lightly. "Are you okay? After everything?" Van is no stranger to being the one to pick up the gruesome messes that the world left behind, and it pained her to think what residual trauma she had inflicted on Akilah, inadvertent as it may be. "What you did... it couldn't have been easy. But I owe you my life. It's basically worth the same as two nickels and some pocket lint, but... thank you. I don't know if I said it before."