#I dunno but I had to sketch down this idea cause I want everyone to be happy in this shiteating world of jujutsu made by gege

[kohhomaru]

I been seeing lots of amazing au from different fandoms, and after watching Kumichou Musume to Sewagakari (The Yakuza's Guide to Babysitting) this just gave me a good idea of a modern day au ! I wish for a world where everyone is alive as their own person, but mob life cause they looks cool, but also a bit of slice of life into it . Now with baby yuji, nobara and megumi for the cuteness!! I also wanna add ´reader / y/n ´ as a person into the au for you guys to feel more immerse with the au but I have yet to think of how to add them into it.

I think I am doing this right but it is just an idea!!!

[stacywaters]

Purple Ink (RM)

[Words in bold are in Korean]

I begin another doodle on my arm. It's nearly filled now with sketches from my ballpoint pen.

"Seriously, I can't believe your soulmate's never asked you to stop. Your drawings are everywhere at this point" my friend Stacy laughs.

I finish up the rose I'm drawing, "I'm sure they love my drawings. They've told me themself."

Stacy sighs, "I wish my soulmate talked to me more.. do you think I'll ever find them?"

"Easy. Just write your name really big on your forehead, they won't miss you."

"That is FAR from a solution, Y/N."

I laugh and look back down at my arm. A small heart appears next to the flower.

----

A Weverse notification interrupts my thoughts as I walk through the door. "RM started a Live" I open the live.

Namjoon and Hoseok are painting. I giggle as Namjoon spills some ink on his arm. Shutting my phone off, I go to take care of the pile of dishes in the sink.

As I pull my sleeves up, I notice a splatter over my wrist.

"What the.."

I run over and grab my phone. Pulling up the app again, I stiffen at the sight.

Namjoon's purple ink stain covers his wrist, a few splatters on his palm. Exactly like mine.

"No way... it can't be" I mumble.

Slowly, I grab a pen and write a small note on my arm by the splatter. Like clockwork, it shows up on his arm: "Namjoon?"

-----

The next few days, twitter had been blowing up about us.

"Namjoon's soulmate is an ARMY?"

"Guys! She knows! She found him!"

"Aww, that's sweet. Let's be happy for them."

"Wait, you mean they haven't met yet?"

I sigh, bringing my head to my hands.

"What do you want to do about it?" Stacy asks.

"I don't know.. I'm happy but I'm sad and I just don't know what to do. I'm surprised that he's someone I've admired for so long, but I feel dumb for not ever noticing. And I never imagined meeting my soulmate would be like... this. What if ARMY hates me? I don't want to cause him trouble. What if-"

"Relax, girl. I've only seen supportive comments so far. Everyone knows that you can't control soulmates, I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Yeah, I just, i dunno." I slump down in my chair, "it's not like I'll ever get to meet him anyways. It's a lost cause."

"Hey! Chill out. What you need to do is give him a way to find you."

"Such as?" I grumble.

"Such as posting your art online. I've been telling you forever, your creations are too good to keep to yourself! And if you post them, soon enough either he'll find you or ARMY will"

"That's... that's not a bad idea."

And that's how you got here. You'd been posting for two weeks now, but only had about 12 followers.

"Trust the process! He'll find you. It takes time to build an account." Stacy assured you.

"I just feel like the art should be for me, not a faceless algorithm."

"I'm sure he'll find you. He sees your art every day."

"I hope so" I mutter.

-----

I scrolled on my phone half-awake. I couldn't fall asleep, so I decided to explore my feed on instagram. Suddenly, I received a like. And another like. And a follow. And soon enough, a message.

"Who..." I mumbled.

My eyes widened as I see the message they sent me. (Messages by them are in THIS COLOR, messages by you are in THIS COLOR :))

"I'd recognize your art anywhere"

I shiver at their words. Looking at their account, it doesn't help in figuring out who this is. A part of me carries a small hope. It must be Namjoon! He must have found me! But I don't want to get hurt.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Namjoon :) You draw on my arm all the time.."

No... no way. It can't be. What am I supposed to say to my soulmate? What if it's just Stacy pulling some sick prank on me?

"Hmm, prove it then."

Suddenly I feel a tingling sensation on my wrist as words begin to appear.  'Hello artist'. I quickly scratch out a message in our chat room.

"Oh my god, it's really you! I never thought I'd find you.."

"Well you did :) I love your drawings by the way. I'm a big fan."

"No, that's what I'M supposed to be saying. You're music is seriously amazing. I can't believe I get to be your soulmate.."

"You're so cute"

I blush. Not sure what to say, I wait for him to speak again.

"How long have you known?"

"That I'm your soulmate haha"

"Oh, uh, I was watching your live with j-hope"

"Ah, so when I spilled the paint on myself? That isn't very romantic..."

"Well, I'm glad you did regardless."

A question sits at the back of my throat. Suddenly my fingers begin to type it.

"How did you find me?"

He begins to type.

"It's actually kind of similar. I've been following you for a while now. I found your page maybe, two weeks ago? You didn't have too many posts up at the time but as you started posting more, I guess I just kinda realized one day. Like your drawings felt like home to me. And one day I was looking at your art on my Lock Screen, and then down at my arm, and it just hit me. So I decided to message you haha"

"Dfbivaldhflvahf ok wait you made my art your Lock Screen?"

"Shoot. Shouldn't have sent that part"

I giggle.

"Um, I guess where do you live?"

"No no not like that-"

"I feel like I'm messing this whole soulmates thing up already??"

"Like do you also live in Korea or..?"

"Ah, no.. sorry. I live in (INSERT COUNTRY NAME)"

"Don't be sorry! Y'know.. we're actually going to be doing a comeback soon with a tour :D"

"I'll talk and see if we can go there!"

————

I shiver in the cold hallway. He told me to meet him here, is he still coming? Maybe I should leave.. NO! That's silly. He's coming, Y/N. Just be patient.

Suddenly I hear sneakers squeak against the tile. Turning to my left, I notice him. Him. The boy I've been messaging for 7 months now. The one I've been waiting to meet. The one I love.

His dark hair bounces as he runs, star-like shimmers glimmering in his eyes. He slides in front of me, skidding a bit on the slick floor.

"It's you, you're here, I" He pants.

"Hi Namjoon" I smile.

Suddenly my head goes blank. All those months of texting, and I have nothing to say.

"Erm, good luck with the concert."

He checks his watch, "Oh, right, haha. I was so excited to meet you that I forgot about the concert."

"Hey! ARMYs paid good money to be here tonight. Don't forget about them because of me"

He smiles and pulls me into a hug. We swing from left to right as we talk. After around 15 minutes, a staff member informs us that we have to go for him to perform.

Once he leaves I sink down to the floor, clutching my phone to me. I daydream about reality, the moments only seconds ago that somehow already feel so distant. Wonder when I'll see him again. Wonder if it'll be soon.

"I can't believe she's his soulmate"

"I know, right? I mean, is the universe sure that they're destined?"

Laughter from the two staff members pulls me out of my lovely daze. Why are they so rude? What did I do? Do they assume I don't know Korean just because we spoke in English?

A third girl working there spoke up, "C'mon guys, let's not be so mean. We don't even know her yet!"

"Yeah, but like, have you seen her?" The previous staff questions.

"Yeah, what about her?"

"She's just... not what I thought she'd look like."

"She could be listening now," the third girl said, "I think she seems perfectly nice. You should give her a chance."

Without another word she walks out of the room and into the hallway, where I was listening. I look up to her from the floor, my eyes glistening with tears.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! You must have heard them. They're like that to everyone, don't worry."

I nod and turn away, "Yeah no, it's just... old insecurities coming back"

"Well don't let them," she smiles, "I, along with I'm sure Namjoon, think you're gorgeous."

I laugh, "Thank you. You are too"

"I have to be! It's hard keeping up with my worldwide handsome boyfriend" She jokes.

"Wait, are you?"

"Minji, Kim Seokjin's soulmate" She grins.

We talk together while we watch the concert from the waiting room. Apparently she's been with the boys for 2 years, which is a little intimidating. Am I going to have to meet them later? What if-

"Everything alright?" Minji asks.

"y-yeah!" I nod.

"Don't worry, you'll be okay"

I turn to her. Did she know? Suddenly, Namjoon and the rest of the members pour into the room.

He pulls me into a hug, "How did we do, baby?"

I blush at the nickname, mumbling, "You guys were amazing"

"Were you nice to Y/N?" Seokjin asks Minji.

She sighs, "yes, but Ari and Chaeyeong said stuff about her"

"What did they say?" Namjoon yells.

"They were just being rude. Talking about what she looks like and if she's good enough for you, and...y'know"

Unknowingly, I had begun to tug harder at Namjoon's shirt while tears threatened to form. He pulls his arms tighter around me, "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're perfect. Don't listen to them, Minji's right. They're always like this. We are all here for you, we love you. None of the things you're insecure about mean anything to me. To me, you are perfect."

"I-I.." He pulls away to look at my face.

"You're crying but you're smiling.. I don't understand"

"They're happy tears" I grinned, "Because, I can't believe the universe thought to give me the luck that is you."

[robinrunsfiction]

Weird specific request, but could you maybe do a Gerard x reader where reader’s band is on tour with them? Her band has accidentally left her behind at a rest stop and MCR does her a solid and gives her a lift in their tour bus? And this gives Gerard more time to talk to her and it’s all cute

Forgotten and Found

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General Requested By: Anon Word Count: 1,100 Author’s Note: Yes I'm posting on Thursday, no this is not smut lol just some fluffy goodness to help you all through your week

“You have got to be kidding me!" You exclaimed as soon as you stepped out of the convenience store.

Pulling out of the parking lot was your band’s tour bus, completely oblivious that you were not onboard. The worst part was your cell phone and all your belongings, except for the bag of chips and a soda you’d just purchased and about $2.64 in change, was on the bus as well.

“Was that your bus?” You heard someone ask behind you. Turning to look, you saw Gerard and Ray walking out of the convenience store.

“Yea! And I don’t have my phone or money or anything!” You exclaimed. “I’m so screwed!”

“Happens to the best of us,” Ray laughed lightly.

“You would know,” Gerard said sheepishly before turning to you. “We may have forgotten Ray a few times back in the day. Come on.”

“What?” You felt like your ears had failed you. 

“Unless you wanna stay here in… wherever the fuck we are,” Gerard laughed.

“Oh hell no,” you shook your head and followed the musicians.

You had yet to see the inside of My Chem’s bus. Your manager had been very clear about giving Gerard, Ray, Mikey, Frank and Bob their space. They were the main event, you were just the opening band, and you were to remember your place, pay your dues, so to speak, and not be a pain in the ass to anyone. But of course, the guys from My Chem had been nothing but gracious and kind to you and your bandmates whenever they got the chance to hang out and talk to you, but sadly that wasn’t often as you'd like, as they were so busy. 

“Picked up a straggler,” Ray announced as you climbed up the steps into the front lounge of their bus.

“Hey (YN),” Mikey nodded, glancing up from the comic he was reading.

“Hey, thanks for letting me come aboard!” You winced. “That sounded so dumb.”

Frank snickered. “That sounds like something Gerard would say.”

You glanced over at Gerard, whose cheeks had a hint of pink across them, and you were certain it was the cutest thing you’d ever seen.

“Shuddup,” he muttered under his breath.

“We couldn’t leave you behind!” Ray smiled at you.

"I appreciate it!"

After borrowing their tour manager’s phone to call your manager to let them know where you were, you settled in on the couch with the cursed snack that caused you to be left behind. Ray and Frank had gone in the back to play video games and Mikey continued reading, You had yet to see Bob, so you assumed he was asleep in his bunk, or just being himself and avoiding everyone. You were curious what Gerard was up to when he came out from the back, a backpack in hand.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch from you. “Bored yet?”

“A little,” you laughed lightly. “I wish I had the book I was reading or something. What are you doing?”

Gerard held up the sketch book he had pulled out of his bag. “Drawin,” he replied.

“Oh cool style. Do you just do that for fun, or are you working on a project?”

“I’m working on a comic. I dunno if anything will happen with it, but I have an idea I wanna explore. Do you wanna see?” He asked. He sounded a little nervous.

“Sure,” you nodded, sliding closer to him, so you could see his drawings better and Gerard put his arm over the back of the couch so you could move in closer. He was so enthusiastic about getting to describe his characters, the world he was building for them, and what he wanted to have happen in the story. It was fascinating just to watch him talk, but he was also wonderful to have a conversation in general with as well.

Somewhere along the way, between talking about your how you spent your summer vacations back when you were in school and your current dreams for the future, Gerard’s arm slid down from resting on the back of the couch, to over your shoulders and you tried to contain how much that thrilled you as you moved in a little closer to him. You were so lost in the moment that you didn’t even notice Mikey getting up and wandering deeper into the bus. If you would have looked up, you would have seen him roll his eyes, and shake his head as he left. You also didn’t notice the bus was slowing down.

“Ya know, I think I’m actually really glad that my bus left me behind,” you said softly.

Gerard nodded. “I am too. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you, but everything is so busy, I haven’t gotten the chance.”

“Really? Me?”

“Yea,” he nodded. “I mean if you wanna spend time with me.”

“Yea, I want that,” you whispered when you realized that you and Gerard were somehow even closer now.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, noses brushing as he rested his forehead against yours.

“Yes please.” The words were barely out of your mouth when his lips met yours, ever so gently, but more intently as you moved together. His hand that was wrapped around your shoulders slipped down so it was on your waist as you grabbed at his t-shirt while the kiss deepened.

“What the hell is going on?”

You and Gerard jumped apart like a couple of school kids being caught under the bleachers by a teacher. 

“Why are we stopped?” The manager called up to the driver, and you realized that his concern was regarding the bus, not you and Gerard.

“Traffic is at a stand still,” the driver called back. “Radio is saying an accident up ahead has all lanes blocked, so we’ll be delayed, but we’ll still be there before the show tomorrow.”

“Looks like you’re stuck here tonight,” the manager said to you before retreating to the back to inform the rest of the guys..

“I guess I better get comfortable on the couch,” you rolled your eyes. 

“Umm,” Gerard started, and you glanced over at him. “Not to be too forward, but you could share my bunk if you’d like. If not that’s ok, you can just take it, I can sleep out here.”

“You’re so sweet, but I’m not going to put you out. I will however take you up on your offer,” you smiled.

Gerard grinned, getting up, and offering you his hand before leading the way back to his bunk.

[bioodorange]

so. i have been thinking. i know you said you wanted drabble ideas, but this is just a thought i had. how would the creeps react to seeing their s/o after a long time away? like, what do they do while they can't see their s/o? when they can see them in-person again, how is it? like, it's been months since they've seen each other and now they get to be together again?! :) (quarantine loneliness has low-key been getting to me lately tbh 😔) - dove anon 🕊️

Please excuse my shitty layout i have no idea how to use tumblr on a computer (thanks ava for letting me use your laptop at work) Also Im gonna include your favorites because you're my favorite.

Toby

So Toby is a very clingy person(?)

He craves attention, validation and emotional security

This mans would be a mess without his s/o around

You guys would be apart a lot considering you’d either be a proxy OR a human

You’d be used to him being gone alot because of missions but if it was for more then a week he’d have a hard time

During the time you were gone he’d call you A LOT

And on face time, not just calling or texting

He’d excitedly seggust you stay up all night

Three nights in a row

He would send you his hoodie in the mail or leave it in your room if it was quarentine or something

Would tell you everything about his day and send pictures of the smallest things that reminded him of you

He’d need a lot of support and love on your end

When he finally sees you again no matter your size you’re getting tackled in a hug

Lots of face kisses and nuzzling his face in your chest

He wants to play with your hair, look into your eyes, everything he couldn’t do before

Good luck getting away, this dude plans on keeping you in his lap for as long as he can

Tons of cuddling and him filling you in on absoulutely everything

When he’s done talking he’ll sit there and wait patiently while you tell him all about your life

Will be 100% you changed something about yourself even if you look the exact same

Masky 

Tim is a grr im too cool for this shit kinda guy

But will melt upon seeing his s/o for the first time in a while

For this I kinda imagine maybe you’d have something outta town?

He would scroll through his phone all the time

Read old texts, look at old photos, hell he’d scroll to the end of your social media timeline

Constantly look at something when you posted

If you had a favorite food or something your favorite show- it’d be weird to him without you though

This dude would get so upset each day he woke up without you

Would call you just to hear your voicemail

Whenever you do have time to talk to him lots of asking if everythings ok

“I’ll come down there if I have to, it’s not a problem”

Just wants to make sure you’re okay as you can be

When you do come back he feels a bit awkward not sure how to express his emotions

Will offer lots of activities to do

Hiking, watching a movie, whatever you’d like

He’d hang around a lot more then he usually does

Wouldn’t be as clingy (physically) as Toby but would keep his arm around you

If he’s in the right mood might even make you breakfast or something

If you’re away for a REALLY long time he’d take picture of pretty views and make them into little postcards to send you

Babes doesn’t know how to express himself

Ben

As possesive as this little shit is

Thinks ‘Oh yeah I won’t miss em THAT much’

But thats because he can reach you like anywhere there’s a screen

Once he learns theres no devices allowed (where ever you are I dunno)

Automatically everything changes he’s like “Wait- wait what”

And suddenly he feels emotions

Tries his best to convince you not to go or to tag along 

“Fit me in your suitcase I’m t i n y!”

Will definetely get discouraged when you keep telling him now

This petty bitch would consider the silent treatment

Only consider because you’d be leaving you soon

When you leave he tries to tough it for the first few days

But not having you around REALLY gets to him

Would bug everyone else for attention and shit

When they eventually get tired of his shit he starts plotting

Lets say you were like doing one of those long cross country trips

Where you stay in hostels and shit

This dude would have like a 35 step plan just to show up in your room

and be like “I told you so!” “...Ben how are you gonna get back home?”

“...Fuck-”

Would sulk around at the fact he was kinda dumb

Inbetween laughs you’d comfort him

Spend time with him as much as you could before he had to go back

From there he’d wait around his phone until you had internet to talk

As soon as you get back he hangs around you

When you’re watching TV hes there

Even if you can’t see him

Will NEVER admit how much he missed you

But you both know

Jeff

So out of all these salty crackers this mother fucker is the saltiest

like so much damn salt the ocean is jealous

sorry I just like bullying Jeff

Anyway! He’d try and get you stay with really shitty tactics

Like he’d take your toothbrush or some shit 

“Aw dam what a shame you cant go anymore, why don’t we go watch some TV”

Dumb potinless arguing like “Why do you h a v e to go, you’re not gonna die. What if I die while you’re gone? How would you feel then hUH!?”

Will sit there sulking as you get ready to go cause he wants to see you leave

As soon as you leave he’s calling and checking in to make sure you’re ok

Would send you texts every morning for you to wake up too 

Would scroll through your social media and accidently do the thing where you like a 5 year old photo

Panic

Quickly unlikes it and tosses the phone in the corner 

begone demon!

He’d look through stuff on your desk or maybe a sketch book you left behind

Read old books you like

Just chill in your room all day cause he misses you

Has the day you’re coming back marked on a calendar

When you come back he‘s like “Yeah you’re never leaving again”

Picks you up and takes you to his bed or something

Yeah you guys are sitting there and cuddling until someone dies

[inkdemonapologist]

Some of my doodles for Session Six of our Call of Cthulhu game!! We finally got back up with that potion-maker from Last Loop and tried to explain EVERYTHING to her, since she’s the one who seemed the most ready to believe us last time (Also, we saw her voluntarily possessed by a spirit at one point, so it seemed like it would be a good starting point to explain some of our problems).

This went.... chaotically, as there are 0 tells for who’s talking and everyone was very insistent on contributing to the conversation. The alive versions of Sammy and Joey mostly stayed out of this mess.

ALSO!! WE’VE PICKED UP SOME NEW INSANITIES! Henry has a mania that compels him to draw/document everything he learns (in case we lose memories or loop again), Sammy still has the mask thing, Joey’s picked up an obsession with symmetry after witnessing his body horrifically transformed by a corruption across half of it, and Sammy, after seeing the Star Pool lurker’s indescribably horrible non-ink-demon form, is filled with a terrified respect for it and has become strangely deferential. I DID NOT EXPECT SAMMY’S SANITY DROPS TO LINE UP SO PERFECTLY FOR CANON PROBLEMS, 

Anyway, have some more out-of-context quotes!! Some of these are just conversation because imagining people trying to hold a conversation with three different voices coming out of “Henry” is my favourite thing now.

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Sammy] *summarising* (So we're gonna run by Josephine and see if she has anything that maybe we should know, uh, based on our current predicament, which has gotten even more complicated than the previous time we talked to her, which hasn't happened yet!)

[Alive!Sammy] Is something wrong? [Henry] No! No, everything's fine. Let's go. [Alive!Joey] ...I don't think anything's been RIGHT for a while...

[Sammy] (Are we, as a, uh, unit -- do we have the mask on?)

[Ghost!Joey] There's... three of us in here? [Ghost!Sammy] Sure, that's a normal thing to say!

[GM] Josephine looks like she is trying to figure out what to say, but she is having... trouble. [Ghost!Joey] Have you ever had someone... hang out with you... during the festival? Like, kind of, possession? [GM] She raises an eyebrow, but nods, and says "Yes, that's part of my duty, as a leader of this religion." [Ghost!Sammy] Fantastic. That seems to be happening to us. [Ghost!Joey] We're not, exactly sure how we managed to get... in the past again... but we're -- *points with Henry's non-sketching hand over at the live ones* [Joey] Live!Joey just confusedly shrugs and sips his coffee. [GM] "...Uh, go back a minute."

[GM] "And you don't know how this happened?" [ghost!Joey] Not exactly? I -- [Henry] Sammy fell into a Star Pool, and Joey got killed, or, was a host for the cultists. [ghost!Joey] I don't know if I got killed, but, [Henry] Well, you looked goopy. [ghost!Sammy] I don't know what was going on with me, either; I still seemed to be running around. [Henry] Also very goopy.

[ghost!Joey] So, that's a confusing answer! Um. Let's pretend *points at alive!Joey* that he didn't listen to you, and he went up to the Star Pools anyway, without the potion, and then something happened up there that resulted in whatever is happening to us now, which included us losing our memories and waking up later as the same... entity, but we didn't know for a while, and.... uh... it looks like the last time we saw our bodies that weren't alive and human still, they looked... corrupted by the Star Pools. [ghost!Joey] Do you know what might've happened to cause all that? [GM] "...I think there's a lot to unpack there," she says.

[GM] And, indeed, one of them has turned up a pair of gloves! It's somewhat worn, but they don't have holes or anything. Though they might not match your ensemble. [Joey] As long as they match each other, that's fine! [GM] They do that. [Sammy] (I mean, Henry has-- not to rag on Henry's fashion sense, as a man who's worn nothing but the same shirt and suspenders for twenty years, but Henry doesn't have much of an ensemble going on, really.)

[chatting while Joey's player steps away for a moment] [Sammy] Sorry for making you guys deal with Alive!Sammy; Ghost!Sammy genuinely doesn't know how to argue for this. [Sammy] It's like, yeah I dunno! Sounds like a raw deal! [Henry] Henry also doesn't know how to argue for this, it's like, Hey! Do you want a whole bunch of awful, horrible, terrible memories? ....No? Oh. [Sammy] CANT IMAGINE WHY!! [Sammy] Like, please? I'd like my body back? ...it's your body, we'd be sharing it-- but not like this situation, uh, [Henry] Just please, take... I have... take Sammy back. [Sammy] Could you take this off of my hands, I'm really tired of dealing with it, [Henry] I love 'im. But I need a break. Please come take your lost.... self. [GM] Your wayward self. [Henry] Who's this sassy lost child. [Joey] *re-entering chat* Ah, we're talking about Sammy. [Sammy] OH MY GOSH.

[Henry] I ROLLED A ONE HUNDRED! [Sammy] Henry is VERY tired and distracted. [GM] Henry's sketching again. He was left unattended for a bit and he's sketching again. [Henry] Yup, [Sammy] *sputters* HE CAN'T BE LEFT UNATTENDED, WE'RE BOTH HERE [Joey] HE LITERALLY CAN'T!! [Sammy] THAT'S THE WHOLE PROBLEM!! SAMMY WOULD LOVE TO LEAVE HENRY UNATTENDED!!!

[Sammy] Is the voice familiar? [Joey]  Is it the Lurker's? [GM] A bit...? [Henry] A bit familiar or a bit like the Lurker's? [GM] ...Yes.

[ghost!Sammy] Joey, what do you think it was? [ghost!Joey] I think it has something to do with our situation, and perhaps the fact that-- [ghost!Sammy] "OUR SITUATION" doesn't really clear anything up, that could be a LOT of things right now!

[Sammy] Sammy doesn't want to be back in the actual time we belong in! He's dead in that one!

[Sammy]  I guess it's also Alive!Sammy's turn. I don't, uh, [Sammy]  ...there's too many Sammys, [Joey] (Alive!Sammy just goes WHAT THE FUCK) [Sammy]  Yeah, I don't think he's prepared, when he turns the corner, to find cultists with swords, and Henry immediately drawing a gun and screaming at them; I don't think he's prepared for any of this, or has a game plan for what to do in case this happens, other than just, yelling, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!” [GM] at Henry, or the cultists? [Sammy]  ....BOTH????

[Joey] Does Joey know of any way to interrupt magic? [GM] Injuring someone is a good, classic way to do that.

[GM] So, you can do an attack, whether it's with the gun or with your fists! [Sammy] *flipping through character sheet* I mean, I feel like I'm probably not just shooting him, I-- wHEN DID YOU ADD "DUSTPAN" TO MY WEAPONS???

[Sammy] The idea of Joey just continuously accidentally killing people is REALLY funny to me.

[Sammy] This is going MUCH better than the last time that we fought anybody! [Joey] Apparently Joey just needs to be really angry, and then my dice are like, “yeah, you can kill people.”

[GM] *flipping through the rules* Here we go, "Disrupted spellcasting, for example, if they are shot!" Well, okay then-- [GM] ......ohhh. [Sammy]  Uh, [Henry] "Oh?" [GM] HM! ........ let me get a d8. [Henry] Concern...???? [Sammy]  It's probably fine. It's... it's probably fine. [GM] ........ [GM] Uh..... huh. Well. That's an 8. [Sammy]  On the d8. [GM] Yyyeah,..... you disrupted his, casting,,, it's not a serious spell so most of this stuff is not extreme, but I rolled an 8, and that says, [GM] "A mythos monster is accidentally summoned." [Sammy]  WHAT?? [Henry] WHAT??? [Sammy] WHAT???? [Joey] *dying of laughter in the background* [Sammy]  I DIDN'T KNOW THAT WAS AN OPTION??? OKAY!!! [GM] I didn't think it was, at this level of spell!! [Sammy]  Remember when I said that this was going well? I NEED TO STOP SAYING THINGS.

[Joey] How is Sammy putting on the mask? [Sammy] With his.... hands...? [Joey] No, like, how is it laying on his head, [Sammy] OH.

[Joey] Ghost!Joey would like to turn it so it's like, in the middle of his head. But like, on forehead, so that they can still see. [Henry]  (A fancy visor!) [Sammy] (...you can still see if it’s on the side...) [Joey] (Joey would really like it if we, put it in the middle.) [Sammy] (...I FORGOT YOU HAVE A SYMMETRY THING)

[GM] You felt, when Sammy and the cult leader were both giving the Lurker commands, that there was a kind of tug-of-war going on there, and it seems like the cult leader won that round. [Henry]  Wait, we can give the Lurker commands? [Joey] We're allies. [Sammy] Yeah, we're the host. [Henry]  Oh, um, [Sammy] Sammy asked it for help! It didn't, uh... this is how things always go for Sammy, so, I feel like this is correct.

[Sammy] (...Henry pulls out a gun, someone tries to grab him and he just bashes that person over the head, Joey tries to help by shooting this cult leader to stop him from casting a spell, and this horrible weird bendy monster is unleashed, Henry IMMEDIATELY kneels to this creature, and it starts listening to him, and he grabs the amulet and starts directing it to murder people after pulling the mask down over his face, so, yeah!! I can see that being pRETTY UNSETTLING actually!!)

[Joey] And I've already accidentally summoned a demon, somehow! [GM] This is just how Joey rolls, he just aCCIDENTALLY SUMMONS DEMONS, apparently! Even when OTHER PEOPLE are casting spells, Joey finds a way to accidentally summon a demon!

[Sammy] We do need those; those ARE our bodies running away,

[Lurker, when asked if he can shapeshift] It depends on the host! I didn't do this. It's pretty awesome, though! I feel like this is actually something that was designed to be this way, for the first time I can remember! Deliberate, you know what I mean? [Henry] “Yeah!” Henry says, not knowing what he means.

[Sammy] We're very focused on getting out of here. [Henry] We're channeling Wally Franks! [Sammy] NO! Don't channel Wally Franks! He didn't get outta there he just YELLED ABOUT IT, which is what WE'RE DOING RIGHT NOW!! LET'S ACTUALLY GET OUTTA HERE!

[GM] You guys go around a corner that at least obscures you from immediate sight, though it's good the Lurker is as, uh...... [GM] ........ [GM] ........ [GM] ...uh, for lack of a better word, bendy as he is, [players explode with laughter] [GM] I TRIED, I couldn't think of anything else! [Sammy] NO I SAW THE GEARS TURNING IN YOUR HEAD

[GM] You have a small Bendy. [GM] He's blinking. [Henry] Henry is.... is having, a moment,

[Sammy] We're honoured you're joining us, but we really should get moving?

[Henry] Just let him ride on his shoulders like a kid, that'd be adorable! [Henry] Henry's having SO many emotions right now. He wants to be respectful, but also, oh my god, that's so cute?? and also my OC???? Oh my god??????

[GM] I don't think the Lurker is familiar with the concept of piggyback rides. I mean if he's asked I'm sure he's down for whatever, but, [Henry] Henry's gonna ask the Lurker if he wants to climb on his shoulders and ride. [GM] The Lurker thinks this is a FANTASTIC idea, because nobody has ever carried the Lurker around before!

[Alive!Sammy] Sammy's very pale. [Alive!Joey] You have a... Bendy now, Henry...? [Henry] Uh, kinda! This is the Lurker. [Alive!Joey] “The Lurker”? [Henry] The giant monster? He's... small now, so he's not a giant monster.

[Alive!Sammy] Henry WHAT is going on? Or, whoever you are right now, [Henry] It is me; look, I've been letting the others talk because I have no idea what's going on. I don't know... I just want to get everyone out of here alive. [GM] (What a Henry thing to say) [Alive!Sammy] *snarking* Well, we're alive SO far! Maybe don't run at people with swords, in the future? Might help with that. [Henry] That was Sammy. That wasn't me. [Joey] (*laughing* "By the way, that thing you were lecturing me about? That wasn't me, THAT WAS YOU!")

[GM] The Lurker settles down when it is clear that the hug is not a threat.

[Henry] (I AM LOSING IT! I hope you know what you've done to me!) [GM] (I was not expecting this either but here we are!!) [Henry] (Maybe it was my idea. I can't believe I've done this.)

[Joey] Alive!Joey at some point shows Bendy how to hold the pencil. [GM] He says "Oh, hey, neat!" and has an easier time. [Henry] Oh my god, cute? [Sammy] (*losing it in the background*) [Joey] I was just thinking that if he's sitting next to Henry, and he watches the Lurker fumble with the pencil enough, he's going to just, reach up and-- [Sammy] (I LOST NINE SANITY TO THIS ASSHOLE!!!) [Henry] (But he's so cute!) [Joey] (Well now he's cute, maybe you get some sanity back!) [Henry] (Like petting a cat! You get sanity back from petting the Bendy.) [Sammy] (Yes, he is adorable, I will serve him faithfully.)

[GM] Make a navigate check. [Joey] *rolls terribly* Joey doesn't know where the fuck we're going. [Henry] I missed the navigate check too. [Sammy] Ohhhh boy, we better not get lost... [Joey] Sammy, do you remember where we're going? [Sammy] Oh, don't ask Sammy. Don't ask either Sammy. [Sammy] Alive!Sammy will eventually ask "You DO know where we're going, right?" [GM] You guys..... uh, get lost! Well, let me check one thing. [GM] *rolls* [GM] ... THE LURKER, APPARENTLY, CAN GET YOU BACK TO WHERE HE APPEARED,

[GM] What a useful pocket demon. [Henry] I love our pocket demon. [Joey] I love our son... [Sammy] Joey, [Joey] Firstborn... [Henry] Adopted from a cult! [Joey] We went to Haiti and adopted a son. [Sammy] Sammy's role as third wheel here is getting weirder and weirder.

[Sammy] I can't believe Binoculars is a Bendy fan.

[Joey] (Meanwhile, Ghost!Joey remembers something? There is an inscription on the floor between the laundry room, and Josephine's room, that does not allow the passage of evil spirits. I... don't think the Lurker is going to make it past that.) [Henry] (Ohhhhhhhhh) [Sammy] (Hmm. Also... BRINGING THE LURKER in to see Josephine feels, hostile???) [Henry] (OH... I didn't think about that; he's just my kid now!)

[Joey] (I have literally no idea for Joey.) [Sammy] (Gosh, what a thing to ask... I just have to appreciate, what a thing to ask a Type Three -- "Okay, what's YOU?") [Joey] (Joey looks down at the mask, feeling all of his inner masks,,,) [Sammy] ("I'M COMPOSED OF THINGS THAT MAKE OTHER PEOPLE THINK IM SUCCESSFUL,,,")

[Ghost!Sammy] After you. [Ghost!Joey] Actually, I would feel more comfortable if you went first, [Ghost!Sammy] ...Fine. Fantastic. [Joey] (This is-- I don't know if Sammy can feel it, but this is definitely out of, still thinking about the slight guilt that ran through him when Sammy was blaming EVERYTHING on him, and telling him to keep them out of this,) [Sammy] (I mean, Sammy just thinks this is risky and wanted Joey to be the guinea pig, so, that's nice that you were thinking of him!)

[Sammy] A quick kiss won't be enough time for Sammy to like, stop bluescreening in time to react to this? So, um, uh, he- he just, uh, needs, uh, a- a minute, but he, will be, blushing furiously. I think that's the only reaction! [Joey] Perfect~ [GM] The spirit lady probably flashes him a thumbs up. [Joey] *laughing* Sammy DIES. We did all of this to get him alive again, and he just DIES. [Sammy] SLAIN INSTANTLY.

[lestatslestits]

Dear Evan Hansen info dump! Dear Evan Hansen info dump! Pls I saw it in London and fucking despised that show

OKAY sorry this took a while I got tied up at work.

For those unfamiliar, here’s a very basic rundown of the plot as I remember it because I refuse to revisit it.

Content warning for. So many things. Suicide, mental illness, lying, gaslighting, and like. Just a weird song about siblings. I dunno.

So basically there’s this kid named Evan Hansen who has social anxiety and probably depression, and he sees a therapist, who has told him to write letters to himself as an assignment. It’s the first day of school after summer break and his arm is in a cast because he broke it climbing a tree. This is our “hero.”

He’s got a crush on a girl named Zoe (Zoey?), who he desperately wants to notice him but he’s awkward and shy and has a song about it. Zoe’s older brother, Connor, is what happens when 45 year old theatre producers google what a depressed teenager looks like. I think he may actually be described in canon as looking like a school shooter? Even if I’m wrong about that, it’s clearly the intended vibe.

So Evan goes to school with his letter, meets Connor there (who he does not know at all, and that is extremely important), and Connor asks to sign his cast. He does it HUGE letters so it’s impossible to miss, but while this interaction goes down he finds Evan’s letter, which talks about how he has put all of his hope into his relationship with Connor’s sister, Zoe. It’s worded weirdly ambiguously because it’s a surprise tool that will help us later. Anyways, Connor freaks out at the idea of Evan writing about his sister, and he takes the letter.

Later Evan gets called into the office to speak to Connor’s parents, because Connor has committed suicide. And on his person is a letter that begins “Dear Evan Hansen.”

So now everyone is convinced he was Connor’s only friend, and that this was Connor’s suicide note. Connor’s family starts asking Evan questions about Connor and instead of explaining the mixup, Evan just ???? Goes with it???????????? He makes up a WHOLE ASS BACKSTORY about his deep friendship with Connor, writes additional Dear Evan Hansen letters, and develops a relationship with Connor’s grieving family.

A person at school (in the musical the character is a girl but in the movie I think the actor is non-binary and I dunno if the character will be or not) sets up a memorial for Connor and asks Evan to speak. He does, someone posts his speech on youtube, and he goes mega viral for talking about the impact Connor had on him. Suddenly a whole campaign starts, around the phrase “You will be found.”

Evan gets super famous, but his mom and his friend uhhh Jared I think is his name have gotten wise and shit is falling apart.

Okay I did have to google a bit for the ending because I blocked it out.

Ultimately Evan confessed what he did to Connor’s family, because the “suicide note” got leaked online and now people blame Connor’s parents. So he comes clean in a way that is like “I’m so sorry, but please consider that I was sad.”

And they’re mad but they don’t pursue it at all or tell anyone about all of his lies because ???? What are consequences???

Evan’s mom finds out that his fall that led to a broken arm was actually a suicide attempt, so she feels guilty and sad for??? Being a single mom and having to work?????

A year later Evan meets up with Zoe who says that actually everything Evan did was okay because it brought her family closer together, and actually thru needed this.

Evan has no consequences, other than feeling kind of guilty, and the show ends with him writing another letter to himself.

So like.

Where do I start? The weird infantilizing bullshit of a sad white boy receiving no consequences for his actions?

The fact that all of the work on “The Connor Project” is done by the show’s one (1) character who is regularly cast as a person of color, who receives no appreciation?

The fact that, oh yeah, it turns out that Connor was emotionally abusing his sister for years, to the point where she has a whole song about how she doesn’t know how to mourn for someone who has caused her so much pain. Evan, aware of this, uses his own ROMANTIC FEELINGS FOR ZOE to come up with a lot of stuff to “prove” that Connor actually cared about her, making her believe that her dead brother who tormented her actually gave a shit, because it helped Evan get a girlfriend. This plot point literally FLABBERGASTS me because I never see anyone talk about it. Also I’m pretty sure the tie-in book tried to retcon this and make it an unreliable narrator thing and in general to make Connor more sympathetic by making him queer???, but it’s never addressed in the musical, so it’s not really possible to consider that canon.

Also Evan sings a song, allegedly from Connor’s perspective, about all the things he (a character who is romantically interested in her) thinks about her....using her dead brother as a mouthpiece???

The fact that Broadway started a whole #youwillbefound movement. That’s right. They started a suicide awareness campaign based off of a COMPLETELY CANONICALLY FAKE CAMPAIGN and people took it seriously, like people who sing The Last Five Years at their weddingsxhhkkgukj

Uhh the fact that the fandom woobifies both Evan and Connor and SHIPS THEM together even though they do not know each other, which is literally the point of the story 🤪🤪🤪

I could go on but damn I’m pissing myself off.

WAIT I forgot to add that @wolfsbaneblooming said she thought the movie trailer was an SNL sketch and she’s RIGHT

Uhh tagging @theclichefortunecookie because I promised an infodump

[wevegottogetaway]

Thanks fo’ saving my ass (Part 2)

There is a part 3 coming, I think these two deserve the...culmination, but I wasn’t sure if I could have it ready soon enough. Stay tuned for more, hope you enjoy! x

Part 1   -   Part 3*

It starts with a resounding bang. A back curving over maple hardwood; taut muscle stretching soft cotton fabric; twin jades squinted in concentration; a shoulder blade protruding briefly for one swift determining movement. Red, blue, yellow, purple, orange phenolic resin scattering across green worsted wool like a dozen pinballs simultaneously kicked in various directions.

It ends with the deep echo. A ball falling into emptiness before meeting rock-bottom; the release of a soft withheld breath; firm flesh unflexing with satisfaction; two sets of glossy eyes meeting in a knowing look. "Nice break, Styles. Stripes it is," y/n happily comments once Harry leans back from the pool table.

Gibson’s is full of rowdy chatters, tipsy laughs and fulsome smiles. Strangers bonding for a night of undiluted carefreeness, clicking drinks after merry drinks in honor to their new ephemeral best friends. All sorrows have been forsaken on the coat rack at the entrance,  hung in insouciance, leaving nothing but good spirits to sit at the tables and loiter near the bar. Everything about this place is warm and nurturing, a cosy embrace after a tedious day, a home for the people that lets them nurse bottles and wounds alike, and sees them leave later on, cheerful, relaxed and healing. It took but a second for Harry to understand why y/n is so fond of the place and he was not surprised to find her on a first-name basis with the barmaid, the two of them catching up on life while she was preparing the drinks.

Now, fifteen minutes in, they’ve happily made their way to the vacant timeworn pool table at a secluded corner of the bar, drinks and grins in toe. The space is only lit up by a single lamp hanging from the ceiling, casting daedal shadows along the walls and across the table’s carpeted surface. The subdued light and music crooning in the background make for a suggestive atmosphere, air thick with limitless curiosity and enticing promises.

The corner of Harry’s lips quirks in a wry smile and a bold glint takes residence at the crease of his eyes; the telltale sign of a burgeoning idea brewing up in his cheeky mind. "What’dya say we make this a lil more interesting?" The offer is served with a raised brow, a hand on his waist, and one foot perched on its toes over the other as he leans against the cue.

From across the pool table, y/n is quite endeared at the sight but her response comes out in fake offense,"oh I’m sorry, am I boring you already?"

"Quite the opposite actually." His head tilts the slightest bit to the side, gaze unwavering from her face in a mission for persuasion.

Her lips grimace as she tries to suppress a betraying smile to no avail, "fine, I’m listening."

He grins victoriously at her inability to keep a straight face, his limbs dislodging from his casual pose. "We take turns," his motions at the space between them. "F’we pocket, we get to ask one question. No bullshit answer, jus’ the truth." His eyes are wide as he gauges her response.

"A question, huh?" she takes her time to contemplate the proposition just to watch him squirm in impatience. "Damn, for a sec I thought you were about to suggest strip-pool." She sends him a playful look as she walks the length of the table to step closer to him and have a better look at his chiseled features.

"I mean, m’totally down but might be a bit unfair on your part," his eyes briefly trail down her body in silent conveyance of her single-piece attire. He’s got much more material to shed before exposing skin than she does.

"Wouldn’t you like to know." The suggestive retort has Harry’s stomach churn with humid passion, the question of just how many layers she’s wearing exactly, playing with the most lascivious parts of his brain. "Not that it matters, you’d be butt-naked before you’d get a nip-slip."

"Overestimating yourself?"

"Just giving you fair warning," she shrugs in nonchalance running her fingers along the edge of the table, "so you know what you’re getting yourself into."

When she lifts her head back to connect their gaze again, she finds him biting at his bottom lip to contain his signature smirk, "no worries there, darlin’. M’all willing." He almost punctuates his retort with a salacious wink but decides to save it for a more opportune time. Something tells him he’s in for a long evening, not that it’s any cause for concern. Like he said, he is very much consenting to anything her heart desires to do to him.

"Good to know." Y/n quips back with a smile before leaning on her hand resting upon the pool table. "What’s your question then?"

For a moment, Harry forgets he just broke the rack and successfully sent a plain purple ball in one of the table’s pocket, taking him one step closer to victory and granting him one question as per his own proposition. He quickly gathers his reeling thoughts before settling on an easy inquiry, fingers fiddling with the desire to sketch every bit of her character. "Right um, do you have other hobbies besides playin- or should I say, winning pool?"

She wants to slap- or should she say, kiss the smug look off his lovely face, but her answers airs in the same level tone she employs at work, "yes I do."

It’s not enough for Harry’s archeologic curiosity though. He’s barely dusted off the ground beneath his feet to reveal the hint of new groundbreaking findings; armed with sieves and brushes, he is eager to dig a little further, "and what might those be?"

However, y/n is quick to rebuff him, "uh uh, that’s two questions."

Indignation soars through his straightened posture, as he cries out a faint ’what? no!’ and her own ego grows two size at her cunning deceit, "gotta up your game if you wanna keep that perky bum intact, Styles."

Earlier words resonate in the confines of his outfoxed mind then, you can kick my ass at that game of pool as promised, and he tries really hard not to think about the promise following them. Instead he counterattacks in obvious diversion tactic, "that’s twice you’ve mentioned my ass in the past 5 minutes, perhaps I should read into it?"

"I guess you’ll have to wait and see," she lithely deflects as she grabs her own cue with a determined look etched upon her face, "my turn now."

With powerful strides, y/n navigates around the table to position herself at the most promising angle for a score of her own. Once she has both her target and the cue ball in firing line, she tunes out every last bit of stimulus encompassing her; the muffled sound of the music, the sticky oxygen filling up her lungs with sensual tension, the charming presence of the beau intently ogling her every move.

It barely takes her a couple seconds of intense concentration before a sharp thump is bouncing off the table and piercing through the air. The shot is so accurate, clean-cut, vigorous yet graceful and elegant all out once, Harry finds himself mesmerized by her skills more than the subtle form curving out from her bent posture.

The satisfaction is evident in her traits as she straightens up to face him, a pleased rictus forming at her lips. She doesn’t let any suspense unfurl before she cashes in her prize, "so what’s up with the muffin deliveries? You a stress-baker or summat?"

It’s a puzzle that’s been boggling her mind for while now; ever since the first time she watched him gallivanting around the office, handing out kindness and freshly baked goods for the small price of a friendly smile; it’d been a reoccurring thing ever since. The recollection has Harry’s cheeks warm up to a bashful shade of vermillion at the thought of admitting the reason behind his action: he’d bake a basketful of cakes just so he could give her one without exposing himself. Being straight forward with his infatuation may have been unfeasible at the time, but there was nothing against inconspicuously indulging the sweet tooth he knew she had, right?

"I dunno, just like seein' people smile, and everyone likes a good muffin, right?" His answer teeters on the ledge between veracity and evasion, the genuine ‘they were all for you’ being replaced by a less naked truth.

Y/n nods at his answer and waits until he is about to aim for another shot to voice her musings out loud, "mmm, they are quite delicious." Her attempt to distract him turns fruitful when his ears perks at her sultry voice right as he pointedly knocks the white ball with his cue. It’s off by an inch but a near-hit doesn’t help assuage his frustration, "fuck."

"Oh bummer. Guess you’ll have to pass," y/n can’t help but to tease him.

And the pout on his lips does nothing to quell her amusement, "bollocks, you distracted me."

"I did no such thing," she denies before taking his place at the table. The odds are in her favor, a perfect alignment offering itself to sink the blue striped ball right into the closest pocket. And because y/n never misses a clear shot when she’s handed one, that’s exactly what happens. Tucking the cue back at her side, she mulls over the hundred questions titillating her mind and settles for another pass at him,"is this suit the most extravagant you own and if not, what are the others like?"

Harry scrunches up his nose at yet another dig taken at the expense of his clothes, his voice pitching a halftone higher than usual, "hey, s’nough outta you, leave my suits out of it." There is a pout puckering at his lips and y/n giggles at his theatrics when he brings his hands to his chest in a protective gesture. This man and his suits…

"Somehow I don’t believe you give a single fuck about people’s opinion on your fashion choices."

"Very true. But I do value your opinion." For a brief moment, humor and wit give way to vulnerable sincerity as the two of them lock eyes over the pool table. A shy smile graces y/n’s lips, her heart faltering at his sweet sentiment before Harry gently breaks the consuming stare-off, "well, if you’re lookin’ fo’ more extravagant, I actually have a canary yellow flared suit that goes with a violet dress-shirt." And just like that, they found their way back to confidential banter.

"Damn, now I have to see it."

"One day if you’re lucky," this time he does wink at her, and this time he doesn’t let her enchantress juju distract him from the task at hand. As soon as the balls vanishes from the table, the question flies out of his mouth, "do you really find my suits obnoxious?"

Y/n pauses at the inquiry and tries to read into his eyes. She inspects the bright emeralds for  any unsuspected insecurities and when she finds none, she sends him a simple smile, "I love them. I just enjoy too much your reactions when I give you shit about them." Her chuckle tugs at Harry’s lips, before she lets honesty flooding past hers, "you got such a great sense of who you are, Harry, it just shows in the way you dress. I admire that, don’t let that go."

Interiorly, he’s heart is jumping in somersaults at possibly the kindest compliment someone’s ever granted him, the fact that it came from her only sending his beating organ into more acrobatics. Exteriorly, he returns her tender smile and mutters a timorous ‘thanks love,’ before watching her pocket another ball.

This time she doesn’t have to mull it over, "why did you wait?"

"Huh?"

"When we kissed earlier, you said you’d wanted to do it for a while. Why didn’t you?"

Her words are bare of any reproach as they both lean on their side against the table, inches apart from each other. It’s a fair question; one that she doesn’t really own as the word could have easily tumbled out from his mouth instead. It’s him on the spot though, and while he didn’t quite expect to broach such hazardous matters over a game of pool, he appreciates the openness of their bond. "I dunno, you always seemed so attached to boundaries at work, always so professional, I didn’t think you’d want me to make a move."

"I secretly did," she whispers.

"Yeah?"

"Mhm."

Goosebumps race down Harry’s arms as he takes in her confession and the way her teeth are  nipping her lips into a darker shade of pink. His eyes are drawn to them, the urge to close the gap and have her moaning in his mouth growing harder and harder to ignore, "fuck that’s sexy. You’re sexy."

The praise washes over y/n like a cold shower after a scorching day at the beach; startling shivers at first, golden skin tingling, and then all-encompassing relief. She loves how unfiltered he is with her, baring his thoughts to her just as they come, no editing, no secret agenda, no diffidence. Just her pure effect on him plastered across his beautiful face and candy-coating his words with a thick oozing layer of honeycomb syrup.

Leaning the slightest bit towards him, she tempts him with a near-kiss, almost dipping her lips in exquisite spongy fudge, but stops just as their breaths starts blending in one hot mess, "your turn," she purrs against his lips tantalizingly, before stepping away.

Harry looks like he is now the one in need of a cold shower, eyes pinched closed as he tries to compose himself, "right," he clears his throat. It takes him a bit more time to regain enough focus to make a successful go at the game, but once he’s got a good hold on the cue, a stable breath and a clear view of the shot, he takes it with ease and fortune.

As soon as he straightens up, he erases the distance between them, a determined look hardening the subtle lines of his face. "Did you ever think about me like I thought about you? At work, did you ever see me pass in the hallway and it took everythin’ you had not to follow me and kiss me senseless in the copy-machine room while no-one was watchin’?"

"Fuck. The thought might have crossed my mind once or twice," y/n confesses in batted breath. It’s clear the scenario isn’t so much a fabrication of his mind made on the spot as it is  a confession of his own experience, and the thought has the air in her lungs going scarce, as though she’s reached the apex of Mount Everest.

Harry isn’t fending off the heated tension much better, fingers twitching around his cue as he’d rather have her underneath his fingertips instead. He takes one look at the ceiling to stave his yearning some and draws in a deep breath."This is killing me," he whimpers while his lips skim over he skin of her forehead. "Go on, take your damn shot so we can be done with this game."

"It was your idea," she reminds him wryly. All of it, really; coming here, playing pool, playing 20 fucking questions, this heated hodgepodge of salacity and virtuous adoration is all his doing.

"I miscalculated."

"Poor you," y/n gently mocks is disgruntled attitude before scoring another ball, or as she likes to regard, another question, another opportunity to further tease at his already crumbling countenance, "what about you, Harry, do you ever think about me? At work… or otherwise?"

She already knows the first half of the answer and only voiced the double-entendre to rile him up, so she’s quite stunned when he whizzes, "too fucking much fo’ my own good."

The pained expression on his face is almost comical for y/n, she can’t resist probing at his despair, "me too." He groans at the flowing visuals he can’t ban from his filthy mind before she gestures towards the pool table in a gentlemanly way, "and that’s your cue," they both share a chuckle at her silly pun.

If Harry wasn’t so lost in a whirlwind of lustful thoughts, he would revel in the way their intellects seem to dovetail on all fronts; humor, banter, seduction, sincerity, nothing is lost in translation, they seem to talk in the same love language. From teasing digs and dirty innuendos to play on words or heartfelt confessions, they know exactly which frequency to tune in.

"Fuck, I can’t see straight," he laughs as he misses a shot for the second time, and y/n quickly takes over his spot around the pool table. Settle, relax, aim, breathe, shoot; another point to her flawless record. She turns to him, looking intently at his blown irises to stir up the flame already inhabiting them, "was it good?"

"Mind-blowing," he answers without unlocking their eyes, and the whole conversation is starting to get to her too. Her thighs rub against together, knuckles turning white around her cue as she tightens her grip and Harry has to bite his lips to contain a moan. He tries to distract himself by taking his turn in the game, and burst out in laughter when he pockets the ball and y/n cries out, "blue ball in the pocket! I feel like their might be a subliminal message somewhere but I can’t quite put my finger on it"

Once they regain their breath from laughing, tears of joy actually peeling from the corner of their eyes, they go back to staring at each other. It’s Harry’s turn to ask a question, and the anticipation had y/n fidgeting under his consuming gaze. She expects him to bounce back on the previous question, but to her surprise he decides to take a different route, "tell me darlin’, if I were to kneel at your feet and look up that pretty dress right now, what color your lil panties would be?"

The question sounds boyish really, yet instead of rolling her eyes at him, her core clenches around emptiness at the thought of having him between her legs right this moment, "can’t answer that, sorry."

"Oh come on love, you gotta say. Them’s the rules," Harry tries to coax the answer out of her but she’s not budging.

"Sorry, Harry. I’d tell you if there was anything to tell." His eyes widen at her lewd implication, the revelation of just how many layers away she is from being in the nude, coming into light. Damn, he would have gotten much more than a nip-slip.

"Fuck me, I need to sit down for a mo’."

She laughs at his dramatic response before picking up her cue, "you do that, in the mean time…" The rest of her sentence is cut short as she positions herself at the pool table, and the next sound cutting through the humid atmosphere comes from the ball falling into its target.

"Jesus, do you ever miss?"

"I don’t play to lose, Styles," she quips back. "Now, what’s your biggest fantasy? Aside from shagging in the copy-machine room, that is."

Harry takes one step closer, gently backing her against the table with one hand encasing her at either side of her waist. As he towers over her, his ardent look ignites a fire at the pit of y/n’s stomach, flame licking all the way up to her heart and down to her toes. Her core throbs before the words fall out of his supple lips like maple syrup on a stack of fluffy pancakes. "Right now? Bend you over this pool table and have my way with you."

"In front of all this people?"

"What d’you think is stoppin’ me from doin’ it right now?"

"Manners?"

The retort earns her a deep chuckle, as he shakes his head in disbelief, "fuck y/n, I lost my manners the moment you kissed me."

The raw admission sends a shiver down her spine, before she regains her full bearings and pushing his cue against his chest for him to grab, "your turn."

Barely moving from his spot nestled against her, he successfully sends the ball down the drain and doesn’t waste any time before asking in the same sultry voice, "favorite position?"

‘Why are y’asking?"

"Future reference," he announces confident.

"Well in that case, kinda like this…" she brushes against him as she bends over the table, ass jutted out on one side, before adjusting the angle of her cue and aiming for the pocket, "…when everything aligns and it just sinks…" bam, she propels the sphere in one strong hit "…right through." She finishes her demonstration with a score and a suggestive smile, only but one ball left for her to obliterate; the eight ball. "Are you ready to lose, Styles?"

"Dunno, is that your question?"

"Yes. I got everything I want to know already."

"Then I don’t fucking care about losin", s’not the game I wanna play anymore," he trails a finger down the skin of her back, goosebumps erupting at his touch. He is stopped by the tip of her cue pressing at his chest, slowly pushing him back from her space, and his hands meet this air in surrender. She’s got a wicked smile on her lips and a title to uphold after all, "last shot, make it count."

Harry takes the shot hastily, half expecting another miss, but the solid yellow ball disappears into the table’s corner in a vibrant crash. Eyebrows raised and shallow breath, he pivots back towards her, "please tell me this is turnin’ you on s’much as it’s turnin’ me on?"

"Yes," she rubs the exposed skin of his chest, eyes leaving his face to trail down his torso. "I’m just better at hiding it," she brings her lips to his ear, "physically or otherwise apparently." Then she leaves a loud smack on his cheek and goes around the table to sink the last ball standing in the way of her victory. In true y/n fashion, she completes a faultless round with one last graceful hit that leaves Harry transfixed by her dexterity.

"Damn, you are the queen of pool, I’m bowing down to you. Any final question?"

She lays the cue down on the table before coming up to him, "Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Take me back to my place?"

His head falls back on its neck, eyes closing in deliverance, "fuck yeah." This whole night may have been the most intense and rousing foreplay he’s ever experienced, he can’t wait to deliver good on his own promise.

➪ Masterlist

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #252: DECIDING FACTOR!

February, 1985

Who on Earth is strong enough to smash Hercules? Hint: there’s two of them!

Well I have my guess but I happened to guess right so I won’t be sharing. Let’s sayyyyyyyy.... Más y Menos.

Its very rude of DCAU’s Más y Menos to be picking on Hercules. Maybe sí podemos but that doesn’t mean ustedes should.

Anyway.

Last times on Avengers, Vision walked through a null field created by Annihilus and promptly fell in a robot coma and had to be put in a tube. He regained consciousness and Starfox hooked him up to the Titan supercomptuer ISAAC after which Vision started behaving oddly. When half of the Avengers got back from Secret Wars, Vision convinced Wasp to step down as chairman and nominate him. He’s created a second branch of the team in California under Hawkeye’s leadership. He’s pushed the president into making the Avengers chair a member of the Cabinet. He hid Starfox’s secret sexy power from the rest of the team. And just last issue, it was revealed that Vision and ISAAC have built a take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device with Vision only lacking the will to pull the trigger on it.

So, uh, stuff is afoot.

Vision stuff. And, oddly enough, Doc Sampson stuff.

Vision is very impressed on seeing what seems to be Doc Sampson’s demo reel and offers him membership in the Avengers.

Doc Sampson turns him down because he doesn’t see himself as hero material and he already accepted an offer to join the faculty of Northwestern University.

Vision: “That needn’t rule you out, doctor! What would you say to heading a new, Midwestern branch of the Avengers? I should think you’re make an excellent group leader!”

Wow, Vision. You’re coming on a little strong there.

Midwest Avengers seems like the kind of thing that would be made up to spoof the expansion team idea, kinda like the Great Lakes Avengers of later. But if Vision seems desperate to get Doc Sampson to join the Avengers, well I think he is desperate.

Vision talked to ISAAC of his frustrations on trying to spread the power and influence of the Avengers. He has his take-over-the-world-for-its-own-good device but he doesn’t seem to want to use it. So he’s trying to repeat the trick with the West Coast Avengers. Sign up more and more Avengers. If you told this era of Vision about the 50 State Initiative, he’d be all over it.

But Doc Sampson turns him down. For the best. God only knows who Vision would have finagled into being on the Midwest Avengers in Chicago.

Doc Sampson: I wonder if I made a mistake in turning down the Vision’s offer? Being part of such a team would have given me an opportunity to observe some highly unusual psyches up close. But, no... I could hardly maintain an impartial detachment in such a situation.

Yeah. A Doc Sampson led Chicago-branch would have been an implosion waiting to happen. And Sampson will get his chance to pick the brains of a superhero team later with X-Factor. He does not maintain an impartial detachment.

On his way out, Starfox very much wants to discuss this newspaper headline. As he’s from a more advanced space civilization that doesn’t have prejudice probably, this is very baffling to him.

He hasn’t been on Earth long enough to learn that “ANTI-MUTANT FEAR GRIPS U.S.” is Tuesday.

I wonder if it corresponds to anything going on in the X-books. I tried to look it up but the same month as this issue, X-Men was doing a Kulan Gath thing.

Anyway, Vision and Doc Sampson agree that anti-mutant fear gripping things is bad and could tear society apart.

So in case anyone was ever wondering: the Avengers officially think anti-mutant fear is whack.

Anyway, on the mansion’s back patio, Captain America and Scarlet Witch are just having some old friend hangout time.

It’s a nice moment, really.

Wanda is drinking tea and Cap is just sketching her because they’re comfortable enough friends to hang out in a tea sketch party.

Anyway, Cap is also familiar enough with Wanda to know that she’s well vexed.

And she admits that she’s well vexed by two things. Of course, by the new wave of anti-mutant phobia because it really seems like a cruel cycle where every time people seem like they’re chilling out or there’s a swell of tolerance, it just gets yanked back. A cruel yo-yo of intolerance.

Also, its happening when she’s having personal trouble with Vision. He’s keeping secrets and he has some really extreme moods.

Scarlet Witch: “One moment he’ll be friendly and open, and the next he’ll get so remote!”

I wonder if its possible for Hank Pym’s bipolar disorder to have skipped a generation and somehow been inherited by Vision. That’s entirely not how anything works but I dunno. That sounds like Hank.

Since Cap has been wondering about Vision’s behavior (he and Monica Marvel had a discussion about it in the previous issue, remember?), he agrees to go talk to Vision.

Vision is having solemn thoughts in the mansion’s library, having been upset by the Daily Bugle that Starfox was waving around.

Vision: The world is beset by so much strife. Humanity cries out for peace... Yearns for life and prosperity... but in the end it denies itself that which it most desires! Mankind might never put aside its prejudices. Too many have refused responsibility for their own actions. How can they be expected to save the world? And, yet, who am I -- a synthezoid, an artificial being -- to rail against men of flesh? My encephalatron command chair would give me the power to bring peace to the world... and yet I hesitate to use it! Can I find the courage... make the sacrifice necessary to use that power?

That’s when Cap wanders in to give Vision a talking to. A supportive, helpful talking to.

Since he assumes that what Vision has on his mind is the burdens of leadership, he confides that he knows how tough it can be to have to always make the right decision at a moment’s notice and that he’s here if Vision needs a sympathetic ear.

Vision admits that chairmanship isn’t what he expected. He’s not unaware of the strain that its putting on his marriage. Especially since he insisted that they rejoin the team when Wanda would have preferred to return to their civilian life in New Jersey.

Cap tells him just talk to her more, ya goof.

So this is a very nice conversation between friends and peers that Vision drops a bomb of a totally-a-hypothetical into.

Vision: “Cap, what would you do if you discovered that you could bring peace and prosperity to the entire world... but only at the cost of your personal well being, perhaps of your own existence?”

Cap: “What?!”

Vision: “We have all put our lives on the line many times to stop world-threatening menaces, but it occurs to me that we’ve seldom tried to do anything to cure the world of its ills.”

Cap: “We do what we can, Vision. There are no fast and simple ways to eliminate want or fear.”

Vision: “But what if there were a way to insure a lasting peace to the world, to bring about a new golden age? What if you could only bring it about by sacrificing yourself? What if you could make the world a paradise, but you could never enjoy it yourself? Could you do it?”

Cap: “It pains me to say this, Vision, but I honestly don’t know. I don’t believe I could know unless the situation actually presented itself. Life should never be given up lightly, but... if there were a way to truly save the world... I’d like to think that I’d make the sacrifice. But I’d have to be certain that it would work!”

Vision: “Yes... Yes, there could be no room for doubt.”

I do really like the slow unfolding of whatever Vision’s Supervillain Actually Its Well-Intentioned plan is. His doubts and how he poses a very specific hypothetical to Cap to see what The Iconic Avengers Leader thinks.

At this point my guess is that Vision is going to turn himself into a supercomputer like ISAAC to take over the world, for its own good. Since it was apparently inspired when he was plugged into a supercomputer and was running the mansion.

Anyway, Wanda runs in and interrupts the totally-a-hypothetical discussion with big, alarming news that their house from the Vision and Scarlet Witch series is on fire.

That’s rough.

By the time Wanda, Vision, and emotional support Captain America show up, the ire is unstoppable and the firefighters just let it burn down.

That’s rougher.

Later, Vision and Wanda pick through the smouldering rubble.

And worse of all, this wasn’t a random electrical or grease or magic fire. It was arson. And the arsonist even called the cops to make sure everyone knew it.

Scarlet Witch: “So! I should have known! The blind, unreasoning fools! Do I have to fight them for the rest of my life?!?” This is so maddening! Losing my temper won’t bring our house back... all I’ve done is frighten the neighbors. That’s always been the biggest problem in being a mutant... No one will let you act human.

=(

Some random bystanders basically gloat that the “weirdies are finally leaving” causing Captain America to go off.

Captain America: “For your information, mister, those ‘weirdies’ have saved your hide a dozen times over! They’ve fought and bled so you could have a home!”

Bystander: “N-now hold on, Cap! Me, I don’t have anything against ‘em... but why’d they have to move into my neighborhood? I mean, all our houses coulda caught fire from that blaze! This never woulda happened, if they hadn’t moved here!”

Captain America: “Mister, today somebody decided that he didn’t like mutants. Tomorrow, maybe someone will decide he doesn’t like blacks... or jews... or you! We’re all in this together. The American dream has to be there for everyone, or it can never truly work for anyone! It’s our duty to do everything we can to make sure it works!”

I doubt Bystander is very convinced. Maybe momentarily shamed. But in an hour he’ll be like “am I wrong about mutants? No, its the tolerant people who are wrong.”

But Vision... Vision has made up his mind.

Vision: ‘Do I have the right to take over the world for its own good?’

Vision: ‘Moral quandary resolved.’

The next morning, Vision has exciting new terrible news for the team. The US Army Corp of Engineers have dug up Thanos’ secret base in Arizona from his first appearance in Iron Man #55. And despite Vision protesting how dumb it is to poke unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal, the Department of Defense is having the army poking unknown alien technology in hopes of finding a cool new weapon for America’s strategic arsenal.

Captain America: “Blazes! I believe in a strong defense as much as anyone, but the hardware Thanos used is way out of the army’s league!”

Starfox: “Perhaps more than even you can imagine, Cap! My brother Thanos was a ravager of worlds... he coveted power and worshiped death! His hidden base could well hold the means to rip this planet asunder!”

Cool, cool.

Man, I hate it when the US Army blew up the world in 1985 by poking alien gewgaws.

Anyway, Vision did manage to talk the government into allowing a small group of Avengers to act as advisers.

Instead of rounding up scientific geniuses slash superheroes like they did for Bruce Banner’s lab, Vision just selects everyone he has handy.

He says he’d like to assign the West Coast Avengers (who in fairness do have two scientific experets - Mockingbird and Wonder Man, kinda) but they’re busy with an off-panel mission in the Pacific. Just because they don’t have a book doesn’t mean they stop doing stuff.

So instead Vision selects Captain America, Hercules, Scarlet Witch, and Starfox (who in fairness is a great choice since he knows space science and Thanos) and sends them off.

Yeah. Vision is totally going to get up to stuff while they’re gone.

This foreboding is enhanced when Captain Marvel shows up and Vision tells her he has a special assignment for her.

Vision: “Our deep space monitor has picked up some disturbing signals -- that seems to be emanating from Sanctuary II, the starship which once belonged to the mad Thanos! After the arch-fiend’s final defeat, we left his ship to drift beyond the orbit of Pluto!”

Since she’s the fastest Avenger he asks her to leave at once, fly out to the ship to check it out, and then report back.

So. Light is the fastest thing, the speed limit of the universe. Give or take tachyons which are FTL and also hypothetical. And I don’t know if Captain Marvel can turn into tachyons. Point being, the speed of light is really friggin fast but the universe is really friggin big. Even something as ‘close’ as our solar backyard where Pluto is located is 4.9 billion miles away and takes light 4.6 hours to get there from Earth.

He is definitely getting Captain Marvel out of the way where even her nyoom will take a while to get back.

The Vision slowly stalks through the corridors of Avengers Mansion. On the second floor, he pauses before the door of the quarters he for so long shared with his wife... recalling past joys and sorrows. And then, he moves on -- solemnly descending the grand staircase, as if for the final time.

O_O

Uh...... plus side is that he gives Jarvis the day off to take his mother to Montauk Point!

I just like seeing Jarvis in Avengers.

He’s always around but only occasionally seen.

My god. His vacation clothes though.

Of course, Vision being nice to Jarvis who deserves good things is only partially because Jarvis is a cool guy who deserves nice things.

Vision has managed at this point to clear everyone out of the mansion and he locks the doors behind Jarvis so that NO ONE CAN INTERRUPT WHAT HE MUST DO.

Meanwhile, team ‘prevent the military from doing anything stupid’ arrives in Arizona and at the site of Thanos’ former base.

Huh. I was half and half on whether Vision was just making shit up to get the Avengers out of the house but I guess something really is going on.

Makes sense. If they went there and found nothing, they’d return too soon.

I wonder if there’s something really going on with Thanos’ ship Sanctuary II too.

If so, was it just a great coincidence that Vision had two different emergencies he could divert the team with the day after he decided to go through with his plan or is it just the Avengers’ lot that there’s constantly emergencies going on and he had his pick of them?

Anyway. Colonel Farnam of the US Army is convinced that they have everything under control at Operation: Prize Package and don’t need any Avengers supervision.

Colonel Farnam: “If we can figure out how just a fraction of this gear works, the United States will never again need fear an enemy power!”

Captain America: “I’m told that similar sentiment was expressed following the development of the crossbow, Colonel.”

Nice sass, Cap.

But, like, the instant that the Avengers are escorted inside the base, Starfox spots some technicians messing with a machine to see what it does and they tell him to screw off when he tells them not to mess with things they don’t understand.

Starfox: “GET AWAY FROM THERE!”

Scientist: “What are you, crazy?! We’ve spent twelve hours trying to goose this transmitter to life... we’re not going to stop now!”

He has to drag them away from a sudden energy surge as the machine activates by itself with a programmed homing signal that will bring Something to the base.

Colonel Farnam: “Now hold it right there, Avenger! Only my men are authorized to monkey with these machines!”

Starfox: “Colonel, I was raised among machiens such as these! If I can’t fix these settings, your men don’t stand a chance!”

Colonel Farnam: “I don’t care if you were raised in... GOOD LORD!”

Geez. It may have been partially a ruse to get the Avengers out of the house but its a good thing Vision sent the Avengers here. The US Army was clearly going to doom the world unsupervised.

GOOD JOB RANDOM SCIENTISTS

NOW HERCULES IS GETTING HIS ASS KICKED

IS THAT WHAT YOU WANTED, YOU MONSTERS??

Anyway, the Blood Brothers are some Thanos minions from early days. Weird that they never showed up for the MCU. Like, look, they didn’t need to be part of the Black Order. They don’t have the theme naming.

But these two dinguses would have made great antagonists in one of the earlier movies.

Though Starfox and Hercules get wrecked for being the nearest to the Blood Brothers when they appear, Cap and Scarlet Witch do better for being slightly forewarned.

Captain America can do the backflips to keep from getting punched and Wanda’s do anything powers are as helpful as always.

Meanwhile, back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman (sometimes the Black Knight, sometimes just exhausted), arrives and tries to use his old Avengers ID card to enter.

The security system does not like that.

Anyway, back in Arizona, Starfox rejoins the fight. That’s good.

Wanda tries to do her patented ‘all oxygen play keep away from this guy’ move on one of the Blood Brothers but his super strength lets him slam the ground to break Wanda’s concentration.

The other Blood Brother tries to strangle Captain America who got knocked into a pile of rubble but Hercules emerges from underneath the rubble to do that greatest of comic book tropes.

Ah, grievous harm with a body. How I love you.

But though the Blood Brothers heads are hard enough to knock each other out, the fight did do some lasting damage.

TO MY PERCEPTION OF HERCULES!

When the Blood Brothers beat the shit out of Hercules at the beginning of the fight, they apparently tore his Hercules skirt.

And Hercules isn’t wearing anything under his Hercules skirt.

So the other three Avengers get to see Hercules’ mighty adamantine mace, so to speak.

That’s all well and good.

Except its not!

Hercules? Being ashamed of public nudity??

That doesn’t sound like the Hercules I know!

Tsk tsk, how retroactively out of character! Annnnd possibly not retroactively? Didn’t he compete in the original Olympics which were no pants allowed?

You’ve corrupted him, modern society!

Anyway.

Captain America starts yelling at the colonel because if the Avengers hadn’t been here, it would have been a major disaster.

Captain America: “You were warned -- Washington was warned -- that something like this could happen! But those warnings were almost totally ignored!”

But back at Avengers Mansion, Dane Whitman wakes up and sees this argument being broadcast on a jumbo screen.

Vision: “People never listen to those who know better! I shall have to change all that!”

Vision: “Hello, Dane. I’m sorry you had to be incapacitated. But your arrival was most unexpected... and I really can’t afford any interruptions now! You see, I have to save humanity from itself!”

Something about you seems different, Vision.

Did you become one with the universe? It’s a pretty popular move.

Follow @essential-avengers​ because whoa what huh? Vision what? Also, like and reblog. Its necessary to save humanity from itself.

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty six: wet dreams and frisbees

“I can't believe your dad actually helped us with that,” Eric said aloud to her with a shake of his head. All she knew was she had to be there for real that time around: after their album dropped, her father had invited her back up to the Bay Area before anything else huge happened between them.

The day following the release of that new album in the first week of May and all the while the video for “The Ballad” had hit everyone's television there in the Bay Area and also down in Los Angeles. Sam was sure that Testament hadn't had such a stronghold like that of Metallica given they had started a year after Cliff was killed; but every time she turned around or went anywhere with a television screen, she saw Chuck's face there as he crooned out that song.

There was that plus the video for “Practice What You Preach” which never surfaced as much, but she swore that she saw them everywhere there in California. They always came on after Prince and Michael Jackson it seemed like, and it traded off between the two of them. There came a point in which after not even a week in which Sam began to associate Testament with either doves crying or pretty young things.

It was also around the time she headed back up to the Bay Area when she caught a glimpse of a rather darkly lit video which followed the one for “The Ballad” there in the bus station.

She frowned with the feeling of unfamiliar familiarity. She had no idea where they were from, but she knew them from somewhere. Within time, through the shades of rich royal blue, she recognized Kirk's black curls and Lars' sharp eyebrows. James' eyes pinched shut.

Jason there on the stool with a pair of wire framed glasses upon his nose.

Her mouth dropped open.

It was the first time she had ever seen Metallica in a music video. Even though she couldn't hear the music over the hustle and bustle in the bus station, she could feel it in her bones. The very sight of it almost brought a tear to her eye. Jason there on the stool in Cliff's shoes: there was no way he was echoing him, but rather he continued on from where Cliff had left off in the three years before. She adjusted the brim of her hat and sniffled a bit at the sight up there on the wall.

She thought about it all the way up through the outer rim of Los Angeles and into the Central Valley, such that she had plunked open her journal at one point and sprawled it across her lap. All she could think about was Jason and the pensive look on his face.

She yearned for something rich and dark like black ink for her new drawing, and yet all she had at her disposal at the moment was her kit of pencils. She got about as far as the sketch, albeit in cartoon form, but she had one with her regardless of anything she had with her.

Something to remember her dead love to, and something to exemplify his band's membrance of him as well. It was yet another secret drawing she had on hand, and one that she had no idea as to when she would finish up, either.

In the meantime, there on her second trip back up to San Francisco, Eric and Greg picked her up from the bus station in Hayward and as they drove back to the rehearsal spot together, she remembered the bet she had made with Alex as well. She had drawn him and thus she had to get alone with Greg whenever she found the chance.

She could only hope that Alex had told him about their bet, and if he didn't, there had to be a way in which she could explain it to him and in the best way possible as well. She sat there in the front seat next to Eric: at one point, she peered into the rear view mirror and through the dark lenses of her sunglasses, she noticed Greg tucking a lock of wavy dark hair right behind his ear.

That long hair and that soft scruff on his chin and on either side of his face.

It was hard for her to imagine it, even her having known Greg for a few years at that point. She strove to picture that scruff against her thighs; her holding onto that hair and giving it a pull; figuring each other out. All fuzzy and difficult for her to really think about.

She peered over at Eric and his little baby face from the side.

All five of them with long black hair and round faces, except they were all slightly different in some fashion: Alex with the obvious tuft of gray over the right side of his forehead, Chuck with the similar grave Native American look to his face like Joey, Greg with the scruff on his face, Louie looking serious, and Eric being the odd man out with the look that started it all.

“I just realized I've never really been to Catalina,” Eric said at one point.

“It's gorgeous,” she told him with a sparkling smile, “especially when it snows.”

He frowned at that where she giggled and held her journal close to her lap. They rolled up to a stop sign and he looked over at her, and she had no idea if she was looking at the journal or something else. He gave that smooth stripe of dark hair on the right side of his forehead a little toss back with a flick of his head and then they rolled forward along the block towards that low white brick building in question; right next door was a little bistro. Greg was quick to climb first, even before Eric pulled up the parking lever.

“My goodness,” Sam remarked.

“I know, right?” Eric showed her a little smile.

She took off her sunglasses and ran her fingers through her dark hair, and then he cleared his throat. She turned to him: it looked as though he wasn't ready to climb out of the car as of yet.

“I wanna ask you something,” he started in a soft voice.

“Go ahead.”

“Seeing as you're here and not back East anymore—you wanna do something some time?”

She raised her eyebrows at him. “Like what? Like a date?”

Eric shrugged his shoulders.

“I dunno if you could call it that,” he said, “I just think of when we took you over to Castro Valley to visit the place where James and Lars spread Cliff's ashes, and you and Alex got behind the building there... it was kinda hot, to be perfectly honest with you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. I catch myself thinking about from time to time.”

“You know, my dad lives there now,” Sam pointed out.

“Oh, yeah, that's right! Have a little fun near your daddy's place.” Eric flashed her a wink at that. “Anyways, I mean it. I wanna do something with you. Like maybe have dinner at your dad's house or something of that nature. I gotta spend a bit with the little Sammich at some point.”

“You're just saying that because I'm a girl surrounded by a bunch of boys,” she scoffed at him, and albeit with a roll of her eyes. He shrugged at that.

“Not necessarily,” he clarified with a raise of his eyebrows. “It could be from the fact that you're a girl who likes to chill with a bunch of boys.”

“I chill with girls, too, you know, Eric,” she pointed out.

“Kinky.”

“Kinky?”

“Kinky.”

“You little fat rat,” she teased him with a shake of her head.

“Little fat rat, is that what you called me?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, 'cause you're little—you're fat—” She reached for a poke of his little belly and he flinched back in the seat, and his face turned bright pink from the feeling.

“I'm not fat,” he scoffed.

“You're chubby,” she corrected herself.

“I'm not chubby, either,” he said. “Chubby means you're cute and round—fat implies you've got too much on you. I'm neither of those things.”

“Really?”

“I dunno. I just think that's the assumption surrounding it and that's according to your dad, too.”

“My dad told you that?”

“Yeah. Your dad is quite the interesting man if I do say so myself. Maybe that's why you're so amazing.”

She gasped at that and then Eric climbed out of there and into the bright sunlight before she said anything further to him. She clutched her journal to her chest and slung the courier bag over her shoulder, and she followed him up to the front step. He held the door for her all the while: she dared not sashay her hips at him with each and every step.

Once she entered that first hallway followed by that cool, dark front room, she spotted Greg before the table on the side of the room with a glass of beer in hand. Alex was nowhere to be seen. She walked on over to him and he turned to her as he took a sip from the glass.

“What's up?” he greeted her; she peered over her shoulder and Eric ducked into the next room over.

“I have to tell you something,” she began in a low voice.

“Go ahead,” Greg encouraged her as he leaned in closer to her.

“Close the door, too—” He did just that with his free hand around her shoulder.

“I dunno if Alex told you this,” she said, “but I made a bet with him that if I draw him, I have to have sex with you.”

Greg hesitated for a second and then he burst out laughing.

“Did you really draw him?” he asked her as he took another sip of that fresh beer.

“I did, yes! And here's proof.”

She opened her journal to that drawing she had made for him back up at her dad's house. Greg took another sip from his glass and he raised his eyebrows at it.

“Oh, shit,” he sputtered. “I'm in trouble now.”

“He also told me to keep it between us—yeah, I don't get it, either.”

“He wants the three of us all to be hot shit,” Greg explained, “at least that's what I think he wants—I dunno, I can't read his mind. That's a gorgeous drawing, by the way.”

“So,” she stated as she closed the journal and gave her hair a toss, “what do you say?”

“Can I at least have my drink first?” he asked her with a sly little smirk on his face.

“Of course! Take your time with it.”

The door swung open right then and it caught the both of them off guard. Sam whirled around and she recognized that rich black curled hair and that little cleft in his chin.

“Hey, Charlie!” she greeted him, and his face lit up when he recognized her.

“Oh, hey!” He threw his arms around her. “Oh my gosh, I feel like I haven't seen you in ages—how are you?”

“I'm well—I've been living!”

“I should tell you—I got in touch with a woman who might help you out with promoting your art because you need it, Sam. You really do.”

“I'm not sure, though, Charlie,” she confessed. “I'm just trying to find my voice in the wake of being in school.”

“Take it anyways,” Greg told her as he took another sip of beer.

“She also offered to help Marla out, too,” he added, “because you ladies are damn well and good at it.” He handed her a little creamy white card with the words “Scarlett Valentine: art agent—New York, New York” inscribed on the front in rich red swirled letters.

“So should I call her whenever I can or whenever it's convenient for her?” she asked him.

“Whenever you can,” he replied, “mention my name, too—tell 'er you've been Benante'd as a result of this.” His expression then turned serious. “Also, I have good news and some bad news, and they kind of go hand in hand.”

“Go ahead,” she coaxed him as she tucked the card into the interior pocket of her purse.

“Good news is Anthrax is heading back into the studio, hopefully soon,” he said in a single breath. “Bad news is I'm not sure what Joey's doing right now, but I don't think he'll be joining us.”

Sam frowned at that. “What do you mean?” she asked him.

“I called him yesterday and we talked—for a long time, almost two hours. He's not really feeling good even though I told him he sounds good and we kind of need him.”

“What do you think he should do?” Greg chimed in from behind her.

“Well, I told him—take your time with it. When it happens, I'll call you and tell you about it. Your well being and your health comes first. I really want him on it, just to clear up any confusions that he might have about it. He thought we had fired him, for god's sake.”

“What if he says yes to it?” Sam added.

“If he says yes to it,” Charlie continued, “it'll be up to him as to how he does it. Vocals come last, you know.”

“Absolutely! I hope he can do it.”

“I hope he can, too,” he admitted. “Scott's written a bunch of new songs and I can't really imagine anyone else singing them. I mean—I can kind of, but I know they would fit Joey's voice like a glove. They were made with him in mind.”

“Who else can you imagine singing them?” Sam asked him.

“Mark from Death Angel, believe it or not. Just 'cause they have a similar range.”

“Yeah, they do!” Greg chuckled at that.

“That reminds me,” Charlie wagged a finger at him, “a word, Gregory.”

He opened the door and stepped out first; Greg followed right behind him, and the last thing he did for Sam was shrug his shoulders.

“Eventually,” he mouthed to her all the while, and then he followed Charlie out of there and back into the hallway. She spotted Alex by the door, and thus, once she tucked her journal into that courier bag, she headed over to him.

“Hey, you,” he greeted her as he took off his sunglasses and showed off those deep eyes to her.

“So that little bet you made with me,” she started with him and with her arms folded across her chest, “how if I drew you, that I had to do it with Greg—” She stopped and he slowly turned his attention to her with his eyes wide open like big marbles.

“Did you?” he blurted out, stunned.

“I almost did. He didn't seem to ready about it—not like you.”

“You'll have other chances,” he said with a wink, and she gave him a little smirk as a result of that and she knew she would have more chances to see sexy Alex at his best as well.

“By the way, what happens if I don't do it with him?” she asked him in a low voice. Alex shifted his weight right before her and then he walked around her back to that room. She followed him back inside, right as he took a seat before that table. He gestured for her to take a seat in front of him, and she did, albeit with her courier bag on the table top next to her. He shifted the chair around so he faced her straight on. He set his hands on her knees and he lingered right before her face as if about to kiss her. Instead his eyes closed part of the way as if he was seducing her right then and there.

“Come on tour with us?” he whispered to her.

“I'd have to pick up and leave more and more, though,” she pointed out.

“You'd be with us, though. You'd be with me.”

“But what about our secret, though? Our keeping ourselves a secret?”

“Greg can take secrets to his grave,” he said, “and I can, too.”

The palms of his hands pressed right into her knees. Her chest rose up a bit as he closed his eyes and took in the smell of her shampoo on the right side of her head. She brought her hands to his chest as if about to push him back. Instead, she stood to her feet and he followed suit.

They were alone in that room together.

She kissed him right on those soft lips and all the while, she kept her hands on his chest. His body was warm and soft even while being so thin. He was so sensual and tender towards her, such that she wondered where this side of Alex had been this whole entire time. He was like a diamond fresh out of a mine, or a rock straight off of the summit of Mount Whitney: all he needed was a bit of polishing and then she could have a better look at him.

She could still taste the ginger from the ginger snaps on his lips.

She could feel that right amount of softness staying perfectly intact all around his hips and his waist. She thought about his sentiments about getting so heavy by the time he reached middle age, and she smirked at the thought of Alex getting chubby while staying as lovely and sensual as ever.

He brought his hands up her back towards the hooks on her bra. She could feel the warmth from his chest and his stomach, that sweet sense of fever. She could feel how firm he was getting in between his legs. She moved her head back from him and she gazed right into those deep eyes.

“Careful,” she warned him in a near whisper. “We go a little bit far with it, I'll end up like Aurora.”

“We won't,” he whispered back to her. “I promise you, Samantha—I won't go that far with it.”

Sam brought her mouth to the side of his neck once again for another little love bite there, but instead she kept her nose there. She relished in his scent, there on his skin and on the underside of his hair. She kept her hands right over his hips: his skin resembled to silk. She imagined him even softer and more tender than ever at one point. The softer and the rounder he was, the more she could hold him and feel him.

“Mmm, baby—” she whispered to him.

“Baby, is that what you called me?” he retorted back to her.

“'Cause you're soft and sweet like a baby,” she told him and she ran her tongue along her top row of teeth. She ran her fingers through his soft black curls and he tilted his head back a bit and showed off more of his neck to her. For a fleeting moment, she thought about that encounter in the closet with Frank back in Charlie's old apartment. The way in which she caressed his soft lush hair, except Alex's hair was even more plush and even lighter. She brought her lips back to his, but she never kissed him.

Instead, she moved her right hand to the front of his jeans.

“What if I—” Her fingers caressed over the zipper and the button. She was about to slither down even further when he flinched back a bit.

“Easy now,” he warned her in a husky voice.

“What?” she teased him.

“You do that, I might not keep it together later tonight when I go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah, like you'd have a wet dream about me.”

He nibbled on his bottom lip and gazed on at her in the dim light: those deep eyes as deep and dark as they had ever been up to that point.

“I actually have had a couple of wet dreams about you,” he confessed.

“Oh, have you now?”

“Yeah. It's funny—I didn't think I'd have wet dreams about anyone before.”

“All dripping wet and hot,” she teased him.

“Not if I get you dripping wet and hot first—”

“You want me to bite you again?” she offered him.

“How 'bout down by my belt this time?” he suggested. “The last time—when you got me right here on my neck—I had hell of a time explaining it to my parents when they saw it. My mom was like 'oh mah gawd, Alex, what were ya doin'!”

She burst out laughing and then she clasped a hand to her mouth so as to not to draw attention to herself. Alex lowered his eyelids a bit as if seducing her himself, but she was the one who had done it in the first place. He lifted the hem of his shirt and showed her his slim stomach to her: the edge of his belt hung right underneath his belly button so she could do it with such ease.

The door hung ajar by about an inch but she knew no one else was around. Eric, Greg, and Charlie had gone somewhere else in there, but they were alone as far as she could tell.

Alex leaned back on the table so she could better reach his waist. With the tips of her fingers, she caressed his smooth white skin there over his belt first.

She brought her teeth onto his skin for a gentle nibble. She tried to imagine him with a bit of weight on his body at the same time, all from eating too many ginger snaps.

To think she was a few inches right above his genitals all the while.

“C'mon, Samantha, you can do it a little harder than that,” he encouraged her with his voice still husky and low. She nibbled a little harder on his skin and he gave her a soft groan from the inside of his throat in return.

“C'mon—you can do it,” he encouraged her again, that time through gritted teeth. A little harder and he started to breathe harder as a result. His chest heaved from the feeling there.

“Oh, god, that's hot—”

She closed his eyes as she nibbled on his skin, a sweet little love bite. Alex breathed harder and he gave her soft little whimpers all the while.

“I'm a bad boy,” he blurted out. “I'm a bad boy! Suck me—suck me—like you did last time—I'm a bad boy, Samantha.”

She put her lips there for a little sucking, and she traded in between the two. Her lips puckered and her teeth ground up against his skin, right there next to his belly button.

More silence ensued on the other side of the door so she traded in between the two for what felt like an eternity. All the while, Alex breathed harder as if he had just run a mile.

She bit extra hard on him and he gasped from the feeling.

“Tasty,” she whispered as she slithered her tongue along that little bit of bruised skin there. She had left a genuine bruise the size of a dime there on his skin, right next to his belly button. Alex let out a low whistle.

“Oh, man, that was hot,” he whispered to her as she finished up with a few little kisses there. “That was really hot.”

“Sam?”

She kept her lips there on Alex's skin as she glanced over to the door. Ruben's voice carried in from right there behind the door.

“Damn it,” he muttered. She gave him another kiss there and then she tickled him there. “Easy now.” He giggled at that and she moved up to his face; he kept his shirt pushed back so she leaned up right against his bare belly and gazed right into those deep eyes. His body was warm and soft, much warmer and softer than before that little vampire bite.

“So now what?” he asked her in a broken voice.

“I go hang out with my daddy now,” she told him, “I think he's gonna take me home, too.”

He pouted his lips to her a bit as if he beckoned another kiss from her. He closed his eyes so his face was extra soft. She moved in closer to him, right before his lips, but neither of them did anything further.

“Go to bed and dream of a beautiful gray stripe,” he breathed right into her mouth. He then looked right into her face, complete with the come hither look in his eyes and a softness about his face.

“You know I will, sweet boy,” she whispered to him.

“Sam?” Ruben called out from the next room.

“I have to go, baby,” she told Alex in a soft voice.

“I'll see you soon,” he vowed to her with a wink. She moved away from him and she ran her fingers through her hair before she picked up her bag and headed out of there, as warm as the sunny day outside. She smiled back at him as he shook his head and in turn his hair about: he showed her his slender neck and his beautiful pale skin all the while. The little tuft of gray over his forehead seemed to glimmer even under the dim light there.

“If you see Aurora again,” he said, still in a husky voice, “you should talk to her.”

“You think so?” she asked him, and he nodded at her.

“You really should.”

“Okay, baby.” She flashed him a wink before she ducked out of there. She spotted Ruben at the far end of the hallway there, and his face lit up at the sight of her.

“There you are!”

She greeted him with a hug and a little pat on the cheek. Ruben treated her to lunch at the bistro next door: they sat there on the porch which overlooked a small stretch of grass, still lush and green with the onset of springtime all around them. While he was inside there, she spotted Zetro and the guys from Exodus on the far side of the grass. She noticed something round and orange over their heads. She knew she had to see more of them as well.

Zetro lifted his right leg and chucked the Frisbee from underneath his thigh to a few kids on the far side. The Frisbee landed on the grass not even a foot away from him and they all burst laughing at that. Sam propped her chin up on the palm of her hand and watched them.

A woman stepped onto the porch right before her, and she recognized that head of black hair and those Korean features. She looked exhausted. It didn't help matters that her belly protruded out so massively at that point, such that her blouse struggled to stay over the roundest part.

“God, Aurora's huge already,” Sam remarked to herself. “She looks like she just ate a whole turkey.” She chuckled at that, but then she thought about what Alex had told her before. She knew what he meant by that: he had forgotten the whole thing between her and Aurora, which meant it was time for her. She took off her sunglasses and Aurora flashed a glimpse over at her before she stepped inside of there.

Her blouse was tight up top and Sam struggled to fathom how she could get any bigger.

“Aurora—” Sam started and she dropped her gaze down to her big belly. She looked as though she was ready to give birth any second there as she pressed a hand to the small of her back.

“Sam,” she greeted back to her.

“C'mere,” Sam coaxed her.

Aurora kept that one hand on top and her other hand on the small of her back. She was enormous and Sam tried to think about her pregnant with her daughters.

“When are you due?” Sam asked her, much to her surprise.

“You know, I'm glad you're here and I'm glad you asked,” she said.

“Really?” Sam glanced over her shoulder as if someone listened in on them.

“I'm due next month, actually,” Aurora continued, “although—” She ran her other hand over her belly. “—it feels like it could be way sooner than that. I'm having a son.”

“Aw, that's cool.”

“You're about to say hello to Theodore Samuel Young-St. Vitus,” she added, to which Sam gasped.

“Samuel!”

Aurora nodded her head and Sam lunged for her with her arms wide open: her breasts were snug and so tight, and her belly rose out before her, as hard as a rock, and yet it felt like hugging her mother. The first time she had hugged her in so long. Those old wounds, while still raw, could heal from the mere sound of his name.

“It's the least I can do,” Aurora explained. “I really feel terrible for having been such a bad friend to you after Emile and I got married. It's my way of apologizing to you as well as thanking you for being such a good friend to me. Being a mom has made me reconsider just about everything, Sam, especially when it comes to my friendships.”

They held one another once again and Sam was about to leak out even more tears.

“We both went to New York from here in California,” she recalled with a slight break in her voice; she moved back again for another look into Aurora's face, round and glowing with the life within her.

“You went with the boys where I settled down with a single boy,” she noted, and her face fell at the sound of that.

“Do you ever feel like you could continue with it?” Sam asked her with a sniffle.

“Somewhat,” she confessed, “although I can't imagine not being a mother, though. I love my daughters and I already love Teddy—”

The door swung open and Ruben stepped back out onto the porch with a root beer float in either hand. Zetro said something on the far side of the grass right then, something about Exodus' new album being about women and children first; Aurora backed up from him.

“Oh, my god, those look good,” she remarked as he took his seat across from Sam.

“Sam's mother always wanted ice cream when she was pregnant, too,” Ruben joked. Aurora kept one hand on her lower back as she headed inside for something. Sam picked up her glass and held it out as to give a toast.

“To our boys, Testament,” she said.

“To our boys,” Ruben echoed, and they clinked their glasses together. Sam sipped through the red and white striped straw right then.

“Aurora's a trooper,” he noted. “When your mom was about to have you, she had lots of energy. Even the day she gave birth to you, it was like nothing was about to slow her down.” He shook his head. “Not gonna lie to you, Sam. I miss your mom sometimes.”

“What's done is done, though,” she said.

“What's done is done, right. It's a new chapter of life.”

“She's having a little boy,” she told him, “and they're naming him Theodore Samuel Young-St. Vitus.”

Ruben raised his eyebrows at that.

“His middle name is gonna be Samuel!” he exclaimed, and Sam couldn't help but choke up at that.

“She's naming her kid after me,” she sputtered, and Ruben stood up and held her close to him. She sniffled and brushed a tear from her eye. “Teddy. He's gonna be named Teddy, too.”

“I just think of teddy bears,” Ruben confessed, “or better yet—graham crackers.”

Sam thought about Alex right then. She thought of running her hand down the small of his back and she pressed herself closer to his body. Still soft despite having reached his twenties and having lost enough weight to where he was so thin. Soft like a teddy bear himself.

Holding Aurora close to her body made her want to hold onto him even more as she gave her father a big hug.

[briandthemoon]

~ Uploading this WIP here too! ~ {You can see both on my deviantArt too [same username], but with some of the original ideas and thoughts.} So uh, I did what I do best and shoved two things I love and have been hyperfocusing on for the last month together: Sanders Sides and RWBY.

I’ve been binging @thatsthat24 ‘s Sanders Sides videos and fan comics for the last month or so and by god, it’s really lifted my mood. I’m gonna work to get them all lined and coloured soon, but since I’ll be travelling in the next week, I’ll likely have paper sketches and such to upload if I’m lucky.

As for this AU, say hello to Team RNBO [Rainbow]! This is what I have so far in terms of character information; [putting it under a readmore, please do have a look!]

Roman De La Rosa:

- Semblance:  "Picture This" - the ability to conjure an item proportional to the positive emotions he alone is feeling. So the happier and more creative he feels, the better.

- Weapons: “Armas Y Rosas“, a gauntlet-gun [armas] and a rosen rapier sword [rosas]. It’s literally just a Guns N Roses joke.

Virgil Nightshade:

- Black Cat Faunus. I didn’t realise til too late how similar to Blake he is but honestly, idc, I love him.

- Semblance:  "Panic Room" - the ability to conjure a small isolated, soundproof space to trap someone in. Including himself in times of distress.

- Weapons: “Atropa”  and “Solanum”, two knives with dust vials that attach to the end to infuse the metal. He usually uses Gravity Dust because 1) aesthetic and 2) if you have gravity defying Dust? Thats a cool escape my guy.

Logan Blu-Berrie:

- Semblance: “Blu-Screen of Death” -   the ability to perform computer-esque functions via summons, i.e. attacking someone with a text box he just conjured, or browsing data and memories on a summoned screen for accuracy.

- Weapon: “Crofter”, a staff-spear that uses projection similar to Velvet’s weapon to form blades when needed. I.E. turning the staff into an axe or hammer or even forming a fishing line. [Looking at this whole thing, Logan wound up giving me big Scottish vibes in this AU and I’m SO for it.]

Patton Opal:

- Labrador Faunus, best boy 1000/10, didn’t have to re-work his design at all, what a madlad

- Semblance:  "New Trick" - the ability to mark a person and be able to find them via a boosted scent marker. So far Roman smells like strawberries and creme, Virgil smells like smokey wood, and Logan smells like jam. And yes, Patton has tried tracking himself. He smells of vanilla cookies.

Weapon: “Storge”, a shield - axe combo. Mostly used in the shield position unless he’s forced to be active in a fight. Tried to give this weapon BIG Rose Quartz Shield Vibes.

Remus Pepinillo:

- for those wondering, he threw out the De La Rosa name when he left the family to go eat deoderants without judgement. And to go cause havoc.

- Semblance: “Can’t Be Unseen” - Similar to Roman’s semblance, Remus can conjure items but instead based upon other people’s negative emotions directed at him. So things like disgust and fear directed at him make him stronger. 

- Weapon: “Asqueroso”, a mace that can be wielded in pole form or as a chain flail. The name literally is just the spanish for “Disgusting”.

“Deceit“:

- Python faunus. Pretty obvious there. As for a name, I’ll work with whatever becomes canon, tbh. His hat snake isn’t real, it’s just a design, but he has named his hat “Monty”.

- Semblance: “Trust in Me” - Deceit can mimic someone else’s voice to the point of being hypnotic in some cases.

- Weapon: “Kaa”, a microphone that can amplify sounds to use as ammo, or can be combined with dust vials for other effects, such as fire breathing or ice breath. This is absolutely where Virgil got the idea for his knives. 

~~ Little Things In Their Designs Collectively~~

- So mostly Roman and Virgil had a revamp and got added or changed details. I’m personally loving the rose decals for Roman, and the fact that Virgil has to keep sewing his hoodie pocket sides back up because he keeps knee-jerk whipping out his knives and catching them on the sides. Also freckles. I cannot stress enough how much I needed to give one of these cute lil guys freckles.

- Logan and Patton really didn’t change much; Patton came out perfect the first time, and Logan just needed some proportion adjustments. Later I went and added friendship bracelets to each design because I do not believe for a second that Patton wouldn’t make them team bracelets. The card suit beads was just an addition that I added because I am the artist and none of you can stop me from adding the tiniest of references to Homestuck Quadrants. 

- For Roman and Remus, I wanted them to have similar poses but good god, it was still hard to draw Remus’s hands. They look so good in the end though so I’m good with ‘em. I also might give him a little top hat or something at some point and see how it looks, I dunno.

- As for Deceit, I had a bit of trouble trying to pin down his design at first, but once I rolled with the allusions to Kaa from Jungle Book, it went far easier. I quite like that I added the poisonous needles in the bottom of his boots as a “sting in the tail” kind of thing.

- Talking about inspirations and such, Roman, Virgil, and Patton are pretty much just colour based; Roman being red roses [his name literally being Roman of the Rose] as a symbol of romance of course, with Virgil’s whole motif being Edgey and thus going with nightshade purple as his colour, and finally with Patton, his name took me the longest to work out, but Opal seemed to fit really well, and considering it represents Love and Loyalty? Come on, I had to.

- As for Logan, Deceit, and Remus, they all got more story links worked in somehow without me really realising. Logan was really unexpected, but between the Crofters’ Jam link and the blue colours, he gave me sort of Little Boy Blue vibes, and also via the name Logan being Scottish in origin and yknow, everythign else I mentioned? Yeah. I will definitely be adding celtic flair to his design when its coloured. Deceit is more obvious; Kaa was a good choice in influence that I noticed halfway through and just buckled down on. For Remus, he bounced around a bit between Maleficent and Dr Facilier, but in the end, I figured the Shadow Man was a better fit. Also his surname is literally just the Spanish for “Pickle” or “Gherkin”. 

- Final info, if people are wondering, they’d all be centred on Huntsman training at Beacon, but in terms of where they’re from;

Roman and Remus would be from Atlas, obviously. That place spits out rich kids with issues like it’s quickfire Uno.

Virgil would be from Mantle; it’s pretty obviously one of the more run down and hard to live in areas, plus that’d set up the in this universe initial animosity between Roman and Virgil.

Logan is from Vale, so he’s a Beacon native. I considered him being from Atlas because of their tech. However, Vale won me over with Logan’s european influences and such.

Patton would be from Vacuo. I know its a weird choice, but hey, it’s full of faunus and it just fit a bit better than Menagerie or Mistral.

Speaking of, Deceit is 100% Menagerie born, but Mistral bred. He often tells people different conflicting origin stories, and won’t even tell his name to ex-buddy Virgil or ‘best buddy’ Remus.

I think that’s everything so far!!

I dunno if everyone else is as hype to see what comes of all this as I am, but either way I’m going to have fun doing it. <3

_______ PLEASE DO NOT: - repost my art at all - you are not permitted to line or colour this art - you are not permitted to use this art as an icon or profile pic - do not steal these designs, I put a lot of work into them ;; _______ Sanders Sides (c) @thatsthat24 RWBY (c) Monty Oum & Rooster Teeth The sketches belong to me.

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

Smokey the Bear (Reboot)

Commission for a lovely person who wishes to remain anonymous! I loved working with your ideas and character, thank you for commissioning me!

If you would like to commission me, please head to my About page, link in my blog description!

~

1.

“But Bellaaa, I want to come too!” Kristopher whined, tailing his sister to her personal flight. “I can be helpful!”

Izabella sighed heavily, taking a cigar out of her box and stuffing it in the corner of her mouth. She wouldn’t light it until she landed, but it was comforting. “You have to stay, Kris,” she said firmly. “There isn’t room in the cannon. And no one is expecting me to bring a little kid.”

Kris, only four years younger than her seventeen years, hit her bicep in annoyance. Izabella smacked the top of his head with the flat of her palm. “I love you, you demon,” she said, and bent to kiss his forehead. “We still have communications, remember? And I’m counting on you to blow some stuff up, alright?” She grinned slyly, and he bounced on his toes, grinning right back. “Make Babushka proud.”

“Yeah!” Kris cheered. “I can help aim the cannon!”

“Excellent!”

Izabella packed her bag while Kris readied the cannon’s coordinates. Everything that could be vacuum-packed, was. Her gadgets either folded or were compact enough to be stacked so no space was wasted. Izabella swung on her bearskin coat, and then attached the bag to her front. After a check with Kris, Izabella slid down inside the barrel of the cannon, wiggled into position, and called, “Aim!”

The cannon turned ponderously to face the right direction. Under the cold winter moon, the landscape was grey as a charcoal sketch. Mountains, trees, brilliant stars…

The cannon adjusted height. Izabella yelled, “Fire!”

(A group of young boys who had made an illicit bonfire looked up in terror as an enormous boom shook the air. There was a small projectile ascending into the sky, twinkling like a star. The boys hastily stomped out their fire and ran home.)

2.

“Tell us what happened,” the grizzled interviewer told the witness, with the perfect stereotypical gruffness.

The witness, the teenage heir to a tech company far too big for him, considered lying. She might come back if he lied. One glance at the interviewer shot that hope down, so he began speaking.

“She was really pretty. Red hair, blue eyes, absolutely gorgeous. She was wearing this enormous, like, fur coat? I mean, I know it’s autumn, but it wasn’t that cold.” The interviewer raised his eyebrow; the witness gulped. “She also had a cigar, a huge one, like a cartoon, y’know? It was legit scary, man. She was Russian, too.”

The interviewer’s eyes narrowed. “What did she do?” he growled.

The witness had a fleeting thought that he didn’t want to be James Bond anymore. “We were at the yacht club, there wasn’t much to do. She was drinking whiskey and smoking that huge cigar and everyone was taking turns talking to her. She was friendly enough, but… when I went to say hello, she said hi back, and while we were talking she said--well, she said I shouldn’t tell anyone…”

“We are the police, sonny.”

The witness nodded vigorously. “Yes, sir, sorry. She told me that the English monarchy was weakening. She said she was warning me, in case my dad was involved in England. Which he is. He’s anti-monarchy. I called my dad after the party--”

“Why?” the interviewer interrupted, looking even more annoyed, if that were possible. The witness rubbed his sweaty palms on his knees.

“Because I wanted him to know. If she was warning me, maybe she wanted to warn him, too. I dunno, okay?! She was nice and gave me this lighter thing--”

“What lighter thing?”

The witness fumbled in his pocket and brought out a thing shaped like an old-fashioned metal cigarette lighter. As he put it on the table, almost slamming it, the lid clicked open.

There was a bark like a small-caliber gun, and out of the lighter came--

--Silly String.

The witness screamed and fell off his chair. The interviewer jumped to his feet and tried to save his notes, but the oily surface of the rapidly-expanding foam had smudged and smeared his ink writing to illegibility.

When two other officers burst in, the witness was curled in a corner, sobbing, and the interviewer was staring into the distance with a grim expression.

“It’s that Izzy girl,” he said, with complete conviction.

(The boy was inconsolable and had to be sent home on a private jet to his mother’s house over the border. When the captain heard the interviewer’s oral report, she shook her head and said, “Red hair? It can’t have been Izzy. She’s blond, remember? With curls.”)

3.

Izabella lit her cigar and puffed on it a few times before entering the meeting room, Kristopher at her side. They were both on their best behavior, and dressed to the nines; Izabella in her sumptuous furs, and Kristopher in a new suit in olive brown. The heels of Izabella’s shoes tapped a brisk rhythm.

“Hello, boys,” she drawled, pausing in the doorway to breathe out a cloud of smoke. She then stuck the cigar back in her mouth and swaggered over to the remaining chair at the foot of the table. Crossing her ankles neatly, her next exhale was in rings. Kris stood at attention beside her, his face emotionless.

“We are not boys for you to command, young lady,” snapped a tall man with a Portuguese accent. The Australian on his left gripped his wrist lightly.

The four other Russian men chuckled softly. “She’s in command, alright,” said Gustav, who was sent to Ukraine when he was small to escape government assassins and still had the faintest accent. “Do not worry. She will make sure we have what we need.”

Izabella smiled brightly, then took off her tall fur hat to reveal a bottle of whiskey balanced perfectly among her curls. All of the men at the table cheered, and drinks were poured for everyone, though Kris’s was watered down quite a bit. When everyone was feeling looser, Izabella said, “I have planted seeds of doubt, and heightened tensions with clever paperwork. Your way to revenge is clearing. Kris, the hologram please.”

Kris took off his watch and placed it neatly in front of her, face down. With a subtle flick of his fingernail, a beam rose and spread, to show an office building slowly rotating. The building was quite normal, except for the eighteen red squares in various strategic points.

“This is my plan,” Izabella explained, leaning forward. “I will compromise this building, after securing the information in its mainframe. And then your men can swoop into the police station while the officers are busy, and take back your mole.”

“Will this work?” asked the Australian.

Izabella smiled and raised her glass. “We shall hope so.”

(After the meeting, the Portuguese man was seen flying off into space, twinkling like a midnight star. No one asked questions.)

4.

The teenager striding down the hall of the office building, talking on her phone loudly in accented English, caused more than one curious worker to stare, baffled.

She was slight and pretty and wore cat-eye sunglasses, her hair perfectly curled, a slinky black dress, and a fur coat that was pulled off her shoulders and bunched up on her biceps. Her brooch was a silk flower, startling in its bright pinkness.

“No, Kris, no!” she was saying as she walked straight into the CEO’s office. “I told you, Mama said to not touch the telephone! If it is the men, they will find you.” She stopped in the middle of the room, and seemed to notice the CEO and his guests for the first time. She smiled, and said, “Hello! I’ll call you back, Kris. Yes, yes, I’ll tell Papa.”

She snapped her phone shut as she pulled it away from her ear, and kept it level with her cheek as she struck a pose and asked sweetly, “Mr. Ama-zone, I presume?”

“Ah. It’s Bezos,” the CEO corrected. “Who are you?”

“Mascha. You talked to my Papa a few days ago. He asked me to come by for your answers.” The girl flipped one heavy lock of hair out of her face, then pulled a paper-wrapped gumball out of her pocket, and let the paper float to the floor when she unwrapped the sweet. Popping it in her mouth, she chewed quickly, then continued, “Papa is rather unhappy, as well. Something about overdue payments.”

The men in suits at the conference table glanced at each other, Bezos, and the girl. Bezos looked rather pale as he smiled and replied, “There must’ve been a mixup. I haven’t talked to anyone from Russia in a long time.”

The girl sighed dramatically and swaggered across the room to lean on the window, so Bezos had to turn to keep an eye on her. This also meant that he didn’t notice the other men watching the exchange with wide eyes. “Mr. Bezoss, do not play games with my Papa,” she retorted. “He will bring his men here, and your company will go poof!” She snapped her fingers for emphasis. “He wants his payment. He wants it now.” She smiled again, innocent as spring. One of the other businessmen was texting furiously; another had laid down his mobile with the mic pointing up.

Bezos cleared his throat, and pressed a button on his own mobile, under the table. The girl’s sweet smile became a smirk. Bezos’s eyebrows twitched, but he spoke strongly. “I don’t owe anyone anything. I don’t know who you are or why you keep dropping hints about a man being angry, so my staff will have to escort you away.”

Silence fell on the office.

The girl took her gum out of her mouth, tossed it into the waste basket, and took a cartoonishly large cigar out of a different pocket. A plain silver lighter was next. She lit the cigar, put the lighter back, and took a deep draw on said cigar, letting the smoke billow out of her nose.

Bezos was sweating. So were his compatriots. More of them were sending emergency texts and alerts.

“Mr. Bezoss,” the girl said kindly, “Perhaps you should check on your staff.”

Every man there jumped to their feet, and pelted for the door. Izabella trotted over and locked it, then gathered all the wallets and personal gadgetry left behind and tucked them into her coat’s inner pockets. Finally, she plugged a tiny USB into Bezos’ computer, and set it to siphon what her employer wanted. It was designed by Kristopher, and made by a Swiss watchmaker they knew. It finished in about three minutes; plenty of time for these foolish Americans to realize the entire building was now blocked from any electric communication.

When the computer binged, Izabella sighed dramatically and sat up. With four key taps in quick succession, she unleashed the virus also hidden on the USB. It began to systematically purge the computer’s data, and spread from there, attaching to every connection it could until the entire building began to shut down, and police started yelling outside the locked door.

Izabella tapped her cigar, and the ashes fell on the specially-formulated gumball, which burst into flame. She smiled at the fire, then turned and drew a glass-cutting blade from her sleeve to quickly slice out a hole in the window that was supposed to be indestructible. Just as she prepared to climb out, she drew her lighter again, and flicked it three times.

Bombs hidden throughout the building began to go off, within seconds of each other, and destroying the structure of the building. Izabella threw herself out the window, landing in the window cleaner’s hoist positioned just so to catch her, and smacked the brake on the rope. It plummeted immediately, and Izabella shrieked with glee as explosions and the rumble of crumbling concrete surrounded her.

(She escaped unharmed, somehow, covered in stone-dust and ash. Gustav and his men had fetched their mole, and when she joined them, they nodded solemnly and followed her to the vans. Later, the interviewer from Alaska (who had been reassigned to California) heard the details and told his captain that he knew it was that Izzy girl. The captain frowned and said, “Izzy? No, no, she smokes cigars constantly. This girl chewed gum.”)

5.

“Babushka!”

Kris and Izabella flung themselves at their grandmother, who laughed warmly and hugged them back, with much kissing of their cheeks.

“Ah, so how are my two little kittens?” she asked, hauling Kris into her lap while Izabella sat on the foot stool beside the rocking chair. “How much have you brought your babushka?”

“So much!” Kris crowed. “Almost a BILLION rubles!”

“No, it’s two hundred and fifty thousand rubles, three million American dollars, half a million Lybian dinars, a few thousand in various other currencies, and five pledges of partnership from various governments,” Izabella corrected, and stuck her cigar in her mouth again.

“Ah,” Babushka sighed mournfully, shaking her head. “Ah, my kittens. When I was your age, I was blackmailing royalty and undermining continents.”

“It’s harder now, Babushka!” Izabella protested. “You were a duchess! Kris isn’t even an adult!”

“Neither are you,” Kris sniped.

Babushka shushed them both and stroked Izabella’s hair. “I was teasing, vnuk,” she said, the corners of her wise, bright eyes crinkling. “Tell me what you did to that Egyptian banker.”

“Oh, Babushka, it was amazing! Kris made these tiny microphones with nuclear batteries that I placed throughout the banker’s home, and we got results in three days! The information has been securely transferred to the Yamaguchi-gumi, who will send the final payment tomorrow.”

“If they don’t, I’ll crack into all the bank accounts the family controls,” Kris piped up.

“I used the shoulder-cannon on the man in London calling for the rejoining of Ireland under the English government,” Izabella said dreamily, blowing smoke rings. “Oh, Babushka, it was splendid. He flew up so high, he didn’t even leave a glimmer. I also dropped that pink poison-flower into the double-agent’s brandy, as instructed. He died in about twelve hours.”

Babushka shook her head. “We’ll have to have a talk with the chemists, kittens; that poison is supposed to be quicker,” she told them. “But in the meantime--let’s have some kholodets to celebrate another successful year!”

The two children cheered, and their babushka chuckled again.

(Babushka’s kholodets was made from a recipe passed down since before the Soviets, and most people who were given the honor of tasting it whispered to friends later that it was poisonous and had given them sores in their guts. All of Russia feared the Babushka and her grandchildren.)

6.

The squadron of soldiers stood their ground, as the heavy, pink-painted tank drove toward them with complete disregard for anything else. Other soldiers had given up trying to break its track; this squad would not.

Carefully, one of them set a small, shallow, rectangular dish on the ground. It had wheels much like the tank, and an electric motor. A demolition expert gently attached a very strong bomb. An enlisted soldier brought out a radio remote.

The dish with its bomb jerked into life and whizzed across the bare field, which was scarred and streaked but mostly whole. The soldier with the remote drove the dish with her tongue poking out of her mouth, eyes flicking over the terrain and to the pink tank.

The dish and bomb swooped neatly under the tank.

“COVER!” the demolition expert roared, and everyone dropped back to the trench. She pressed a small button and dove in too.

The bomb went off, and the power of it literally blasted the tank apart at the seams. As the soldiers took deep breaths to cheer, they saw two people-shaped objects flung into the air. Somehow, their voices carried over the explosions of their tank giving way.

“I told you, Bella, I told you they would have a sneaky bomb--”

“Shut up, you’re the one who wanted to save weight with thinner plates--”

The shouting became too faint, as the figures became nothing more than glints in the sky. The soldiers looked at each other uneasily. One of them, a corporal, who used to be with the police, opened his mouth to speak.

“Wasn’t that Izabella, the spy?” whispered one of the enlisted soldiers.

“Nah,” whispered the other, “Neither of ‘em were wearing fur coats.”

The corporal turned around and started thumping his head against the earthen side of the trench in a consistent rhythm. Why. Why was everyone so stupid. Why.

(Later, the corporal was demoted for leading a ragtag group of soldiers from other squads to do something so dangerous. When he pointed out that they had actually been led by a captain, said captain shrugged and answered, “Wasn’t me.” The corporal went to his quarters and got drunk.)

7.

Earth’s atmosphere was a boring place to be, but Izabella and Kristopher couldn’t really come down themselves; they had to wait for Gustav’s air balloon.

Izabella re-lit her cigar and puffed on it angrily. “This is your fault,” she grumbled, the thinness of the air softening her voice to a whisper.

“How is it my fault?” Kristopher snapped, throwing up his hands and immediately bringing them back down with a wince. Space always made his hands cold. “I told you there would be sneaks!”

“Then why did you make the tank so delicate?” Izabella retorted angrily. “Saving weight, saving gas, blah blah blah--Blyat! You’re worse than Anatoli.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to that labrat!”

The siblings continued bickering for several hours, floating and turning and twisting. Eventually they grabbed each other’s arms to argue at the same level, and the insults got truly vile, until Kristopher started crying. Izabella growled, but pulled him in against her and hugged her baby brother tightly.

“We’ll be fine, Kris,” she said. “Gustav is too afraid of Babushka to leave us up here forever.”

“I’m cold,” Kristopher sobbed, his tears drifting from his pale cheeks and falling into the clouds.

“I know, bubble-butt.” Izabella pressed their foreheads together. “When we get back to the ship, we’ll sit in front of the heater and watch that film you like, what is it? The Swan Princess? And we’ll drink hot cocoa and design a new tank, and you can tell me all the things I missed, and then we can paint each other’s nails. Alright?” Kristopher nodded. “Good. It’s okay.”

Not even ten minutes later, Izabella spotted the grey-blue balloon rising up to them slowly. “Ah!” she exclaimed, shaking Kristopher gently, “He’s here!”

(Returning to their base of operations on the warship, they did indeed watch The Swan Princess in front of the radiator, drinking hot cocoa. Gustav watched from the doorway for a moment, smiling softly, then walked away, leaving his children in peace.)

[amintyworld]

Oh! Oh! For the mutual thing, in relating to tss, who would be a light side and who would be a dark side? Would any of them kinda be like Virgil who changed sides? Or maybe opposite? If you wanna go further, what would they represent too?

Alright Anon, I hope you know you inspired something amazing. Mutuals, I have here Sanders Sides OCs with each and every one of you in mind, including Icons (which is why this took a while to finish). Anyway, I hope you enjoy them and feel free to draw or write with them, and maybe come up with some ideas or designs for my own (Because I couldn't figure out a good fit to make a OC for me). Here we go, and I hope you guys enjoy! <3

Let's start out with the creativity twins (Two sides of creativity):

@h-ad3s - Instinct (Dark Side)

• Instinct represents the wild, spontaneous side of creativity - like painting or writing your feelings out, when you do something just because you want to.

• Very Impulsive at times, and because of their reckless nature can get the (what do you call it? Thomas part?) 'Thomas' in trouble a lot, leading to everyone pegging them as a dark evil troublemaker

• As with their twin, Instinct can turn into a animal at will - theirs is a raccoon.

• Found late at night rummanaging through or sleeping in garbage. 'Why, Inst? You have a bed!' 'Because. The funny smells calm me, plus I wanted to.'

• Has eaten glitter, glue, bar soap, and even a ceramic mug (No one knows how they ate the mug to this day.)

• But, when feeling sad or someone else is sad, they usually are found in raccoon form cuddled up in Protection or Imagination's lap, sleeping.

@dee-ree-vee - Passion (Light Side)

• Passion represents the creating for creation's sake side of creativity. They create not based solely on emotion, but because it brings them happiness to create. Passion represents just happiness and drive for any hobby, and the drive to improve. As well as, you guessed it, passion in Relationships as well - weather it be platonic, familial, or romantic.

• Despite being told to stay away from Instinct because they're dangerous, and that they were the 'better creativity', they still try to chat and connect with them because of their past closeness feeling like family.

• They can turn into a cat at will like Instinct, and usually use the form to sneak out and meet Instinct in the 'Creativescape', a middle between the darkscape and the mindscape, where they are crowned ruler.

• They love free time of any kind, and enjoy the constant creative drive with weekends or holiday breaks, and are usually the ones who come up with gift ideas or little surprises for Friends, Family, or SOs.

• Can get overwhelmed by expectations of always doing things right and never making a mistake, in that way being slightly jealous of their twin.

• Their favorite thing to do is help make dreams with Imagination and fight off nightmares, sometimes even Instinct joining to help.

@lightyagamisqueen - Protection (Dark side)

• Protection represents Fight or Flight as well as Anxiety, but also white lies at times to take the pain away, to protect. The lies leading them to become a Dark Side.

• Has a very hard time relaxing, leading them to get burnout quite often from their overly taxing job, and Instinct, being the only other Dark Side and who knew them well would always be there to comfort when it all became a bit too much, or when Protection was so emotionally tired they broke down and cried.

• Likewise, Protection knew Instinct too well to always be there to hug and hold closely when they felt so abandoned and alone, even confessing to them once they wish they could stop the impulses but it hurts them physically to do so, and Instinct showed them their scars.

• Protection protects and stays up often at night in the real world to protect from monsters in the closet and to hold the 'Thomas' tightly when they got too scared. They live off of coffee and redbull.

• Once didn't sleep for almost two weeks for a cram finals session, and Instinct had to help them recover.

• Cannot watch horror movies, and usually gets overly anxious and worried walking home alone at night, especially in the city.

@pastel-candies - Inner Strength (Light Side)

• Inner Strength represents Hope, and Strength to keep going when things get hard, as well as Positivity and a co-gatekeeper of emotions, the other being Inner Child. But, while Child's emotions are more fuzzy and less prominant, Inner Strength's are more intense, leading them to get very emotional at times. Also they represent ignorance, pushing bad emotions or negative thoughts away, thinking they're just getting rid of them and not realizing they're repressing.

• Has plant powers that are tied to emotions, meaning if they're happy, plants will grow around them, if they're sad or angry or upset, they turn into not just killing plants but also slightly life sucking when every other side gets close.

• Is the slightly more 'moral' one than the rest in being the one to get scared and think Instinct and Protection are being more hurtful than helpful and kick them out.

• Has their own little garden with a specific flower in their room that isn't fazed with her emotions, being infused with all the emotions that were too intense to handle, good and bad. They talk to the flower and vent when things get tricky.

• When the 'Thomas' is upset, Strength usually works with Protection sometimes when things get really low, but mostly the two switch off depending on the situation.

• Lately is having regrets and confusion over kicking the other two out, but doesn't know if inviting them back will hurt the 'Thomas'

• Is protective of Passion, Reason, and Inner Child and will do anything to make sure they're safe.

• I imagine them wearing a flower crown, I dunno-

@the-duke-of-deodorant - Reason (Light Side)

• Reason represents and helps with the process of memory and new information, as well as the leader in solving any problems, math or otherwise.

• Reason values the truth above all else and makes sure the 'Thomas' knows the truth of any situation, despite and emotions they have at the moment, leaving them and Strength to butt heads a lot.

• I picture them with a black and white checkered tie...

• Geeks/Nerds out with Passion about Star Wars, Star Trek, etc. They often binge watch many movies and shows, and.. Even have their own code?

• Tries to be there during the emotional fallout Strength gets in, and usually is talking through their door, sometimes Strength's hand sneaks out when the door opens a bit for Reason to grab.

• Teaches Child about the world, leading them to grow into a pretty stable teenager, and the two share a very familial bond.

• Doesn't really understand the whole fear of Dark Sides and visits sometimes, even once helping out Protection during their burnout.

• Is prepared - always has a first aid kit handy and helped Raccoon Instinct when they got a nail stuck in their paw and couldn't transform back.

@antisocialdragonenby - Imagination (In the Middle)

• Imagination is the main gatekeeper of all dreams and daydreams, and has complete creative control in the Creative scape, making anything they imagine in their mind come to life there.

• Could have been ruler of the Creative scape but turned it down, claiming it wasn't their style. Instead they live in a treehouse and chill.

• Probably the most calm in a crisis.

• Out of the Creative scape, they have a cloud they ride on and use for many things - spying on others, viewing past dreams, and viewing made up scenarios or dream scenarios they have, as well as just a hammock to nap on.

• Is well trained with their powers, and uses their imaginative strength to fight nightmares in the dreams that seem to be finding their ways in randomly.

• Is usually the one to go to for advice or just to rant to, closely followed by Reason. This is how they find out about everyone's problems, fears, and turmoil - like how Protection thought they were the ones who caused the nightmares, and Imagination calmly explained that it had nothing to do with them, that they just appear, and that it's their job to help.

• They're fun to hang around and go on adventures with. They like specifically going on adventures with Child, but will tag along with Passion and Instinct from time to time

And finally, @if-i-had-a-spoon - Inner Child (Light Side)

• Inner Child repesents your childish side, as well as childhood memories and emotions. They're the only and first side to grow up from a child when the 'Thomas' is a teen, to a teen when the 'Thomas' is a adult. As a result they're babied sometimes and always treated as the youngest.

• They love looking at older memories and remebering them, although they panicked, figuring out the memories faded as they got older.

• Always a fan of candy, and squeals at cute pet and baby clothes, even making small accessories and gifts for Raccoon Instinct, whom they called 'The trash gremlin' when they were a toddler, and for Cat Passion, whom they just called 'Pretty'.

• Always tries to hold onto stuff from childhood, especially the "Thomas" 's old teddy bear, which they have a copy of for comfort.

• Now, as a teen, they love to write poetry and draw little baby animal sketches, and listen to MCR.

• Responsible for reminencing during random times.

• Although they look young, they're just as capable and smart as the others, fighting for the 'Thomas' to be truly happy, and to be there for everyone, light or dark side.

• I picture them with light purple headphones...

And that's everyone! I hope you guys like them!

[98prilla]

Absorbing Anxiety

Based on @loveceit ‘s concept of Virgil being able to absorb the worries of the other sides! It was such a great concept and I loved it, so here’s my little take on it. Please let me know what you think!

They were all in the kitchen of the mindscape. Usually, they each grabbed food individually or just conjured up stuff when they wanted to eat, but Patton insisted once a week they all cook and hang out and eat with each other. A family supper, you could say.

Currently, Patton was looking over Roman's shoulder, trying to instruct him in making spaghetti sauce. Virgil was sitting at the kitchen island, watching them bicker, absolutely sure they were going to start the stove on fire. Then it would spread to the rest of the kitchen, the table, their rooms, it would be nothing but searing heat and dancing flames. He could taste the ash in his mouth, feel the smoke choking his lungs, his skin burning and blistering as he fought through the fire, trying to escape, but it was everywhere, there was no way out.

“Yo, edge lord!” He jerked at Roman's voice, cutting through his daydream. Or day mare? Whatever.

“what, prince of annoying me?” he asked, glaring slightly up at him from under his bangs.

“Honestly Roman, did you even bother to read over the recipe for this dish before you began cooking?” Logan asked, entering, distracting Roman. Virgil breathed out a slight sigh, glad to feel the attention shift away from him.

“Please, I’m a master chef! I can improvise with the best of them!” He replied, spucking spaghetti sauce against the wall as he gestured with the spoon he’d been using for stirring. Virgil snorted and Logan sighed, adjusting his glasses.

“He’s doing great, Logan! He just needs some more practice.” Patton countered, gently taking away the spoon from Roman anyway.

“So did Undyne” Virgil muttered to himself. He didn’t notice Logan’s attention shift his way, or the hint of puzzlement that slipped into his gaze. Virgil had seemed more, well, anxious of late, and he was going to solve this mystery.

They were at the table, Virgil having set the places while Logan monitored the kitchen, which helped put his mind at ease about the whole fire thing. Despite Roman’s best attempts, the pasta was quite good, and Virgil could practically live off garlic bread, which always accompanied this meal. It was relatively quiet as they all ate. Usually Patton would finish first, and then quiz everyone else about their day.

They all had their own schedules, though obviously they worked together quite a bit. Logan got them all up by 9am usually. They would all scrounge for breakfast, or Patton would make pancakes. Usually Roman would grumble and moan for twenty minutes before actually getting up, while Virgil was one of the first in the kitchen, making coffee. They’d socialize a bit, then split off, Logan trying to make sure Thomas followed his schedule, usually having to reign in Patton, who wanted to chase after every dog they passed on the street. Roman was usually brain storming or questing through the imagination for new and interesting ideas, sometimes bringing the rest of them along. Virgil hated to admit it, but he actually kind of liked these excursions. It was a bit like playing live d&d. He was a rogue type, obviously. And other than that, Virgil kept Thomas aware of his surroundings, of any dangers, of impending deadlines, of things that needed to be worked on urgently and things that could wait. Usually they all had some down time in the evening they spent together, or with Thomas as well, then it was off to bed. Virgil usually was up the latest, going down rabbit holes of conspiracy theories or loose ends from the day, trying not to keep Thomas awake.

“Could you pass the bread, kiddo?” Patton asked. Virgil smiled, coming out of his thoughts.

“anything for you, Pat.” He replied, passing the plate across the table to Patton. For a moment as the plate passed from one hand to another, their fingers touched.

Insecurities. About being too silly, not being taken seriously, not being listened to, being dismissed. He only wanted to help, but it seemed nothing he did was ever good enough, or just caused more harm. All his nostalgia and daydreaming just distracted from what was important, what was real and there and now, but he couldn’t let go of the past, even when it hurt. So he clung to it like a lifeline even when he knew it was better to let go, and it hurt…

Virgil bit his lip as he pulled his hand away, making sure no one else saw the slight flicker of shadow that vanished into his skin, absorbed by his being. He noticed with satisfaction that Patton chartered away the rest of the meal, eyes bright and filled with excitement, all the clouds gone from his mind. He didn’t notice Logan’s appraising eyes on him. Virgil went to bed early that night.

                 Roman was pacing the living room. Virgil was sitting on the couch, headphones on, playing some podcast he was only really half listening to as he watched Roman endlessly walking back and forth, wearing holes in the carpet. He was muttering to himself too, which was never a good sign. With a sigh he pulled the headphones down around his neck.

         “Having trouble, Romeo?” He asked, smirking despite himself. It was always fun to see Roman in a bit of a pickle, it didn’t happen too often that creativity couldn’t think of anything creative.

         “I’ve been brainstorming for hours, and I’ve got nothing, nada, zero! It’s hopeless. I’ll never have another idea.” He plopped dramatically onto the couch, arm splayed across his forehead. Virgil snorted.

         “Please. You’re literally the embodiment of ideas. How hard could it be to think of an idea for a video?” He asked, and Roman immediately sat up, a gleam in his eye as he looked at Virgil.

         “Oh alright. Hit me with something. Give it a go. What’ve you got, off the top of your head?” Roman asked. Virgil didn’t even blink.

         “Ghost hunting. Get an audio tape, an emf reader, and boom, video.” Roman shook his head.

         “You know that will scare Patton to death, and Logan will be talking our ear off the entire time about the scientific impossibility of ghosts. In the end, Thomas won’t believe we’ve found something even if a full bodied apparition appears in front of us.” Roman replied. “Anything else?”

         “Hmm could do more gaming stuff with his friends. Everyone seems to love that, haven’t done a Kingdom Hearts episode in a while. I know you love Disney.” Virgil teased.

         “Tempting, tempting, but been there done that. I’m trying to think of something different, something we haven’t already done before.” Virgil groaned, leaning back against the couch.

         “Alright, maybe this is a biit harder than I was giving you credit for. But you’ll think of something. It’s what you do. Go run around in the imagination for a while, beat up the dragon witch, I dunno.” Virgil replied, reaching up to push back his hair, grazing Roman’s arm with his own as he did so.

         Worries. Nothing he did was original anymore, was showstopping, amazing, attention getting. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out he was a fraud, before he ran out of ideas permanently, and then Thomas’s career would be over. He’d have ruined it for all them, for Thomas, let them all down. Or worse, he’d be deposed by Remus. Thomas’s content would turn into a dumpster fire and all of his loving fans would turn against him, the backlash would be on national TV, he’d be the laughing stock of the entire internet, no one would care about him anymore. And he’d be powerless to do anything about it, because deep down, he was just a faker. He was nothing, nothing at all.

         Virgil barely registered Roman’s rushed farewell as he hurried off to his room, alight with some new idea he needed to start sketching out before he lost it. Virgil flipped his hood up, looking at his arm. It took the darkness longer to fade this time, and he didn’t know why. It had never felt like this before, so overwhelming, so built up. He drew in a breath, trying to contain his own spiraling thoughts.

         It had to be something to do with being originally a “dark side” now living in the “light side”. It had to be something to do with the others. Deceit, if he had to place his bets. Because of him, he was so full on his own personal stress and worry that it was harder and took longer to absorb the other’s. But he had to. If they wanted to get anything done, he had to. He could handle it. He always had, anyways.

           It was dark. Whispers chased him through twisting corridors, faint voices that whispered he was worthless, he’d never be forgiven, he was unworthy of their love, he was a liar and a fraud and a cheat. He ran faster, trying to outrun those words, trying to scream, to say it wasn’t true, but his words caught in his throat until he choked on them, falling to his knees, unable to breath. The whispers buzzed around his head, burrowed into his skin, each one biting deeper than the last until there was nothing of him left and he dissolved into a shadow. Desperatly, he tried to reach the others, but they couldn’t seem to hear him.

         He watched them wait for him for breakfast, only for him to never arrive. Saw them knock on his door with worry, force it open to find no sign of him. He saw Patton crying, sitting on his bed, hugging tight the card Virgil had once made for him. He tried to reach out, to comfort him, but the scene burned away, flaking away like ash, leaving him once again in suffocating darkness, knowing there was nothing, nothing he could do.

         He jolted awake to a knock at his door, breathing heavy and panicked, unsure for a moment where he was.

         “Virgil? May I speak with you?” It was Logan. He furrowed his brow, looking at the clock beside his bed. It was early, seven am, but Logan was usually an early riser. Then he looked down, biting back a yelp.

         His arms were covered in inky shadows, no doubt the result of his nightmare. It looked almost like his skin was luminescent with darkness, like he was becoming a shadow himself. His breath hitched again at the thought. What if his nightmare was a warning? What if he was going to fade away and only be able to watch as everything fell apart, and no one would be able to keep Thomas safe anymore, and he’d no doubt do something stupid and get himself killed.

         Or worse, selfishly worse, what if nothing changed? What if Thomas was happier, what if he was more productive? What if he got videos done on schedule and came up with innovative ideas and found someone good to love, because all this time he had only been standing in Thomas’s way, and they’d all been too blind to see it?

         “Virgil?” He barely heard Logan’s voice anymore. His airway was constricted, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. The room was swirling, closing in around him, and he didn’t have any space, any air, there wasn’t any room, any light, any sound…

         “Stop it.” He whispered, the buzzing words swirling around him, eating away at him. He covered his ears, tears tracking down his face as they grew louder and louder, drowning him out. Coward, useless, stupid, foolish, childish, dreamer, idiot…

         “STOP IT!” He shouted, and suddenly the whispers ceased, the darkness vanished from his skin, the room expanded and it was blessedly silent. He collapsed against the bed, curling into himself, unable to stop shaking. It was so much, when had it all become so much? How did he ever do this without any problem? This was his job, it was what he was made for, made of, why was it hurting so much now?

         “Virgil. Please. Please just�� just open the door.” Logan’s voice was steady as ever, but something about it, the tone, the octave, made Virgil listen without registering what he was doing, and his door clicked open.

         He heard footsteps, slow and soft, like Logan was afraid of scaring him away, like he was a startled deer ready to bolt at any moment. He felt the bed shift beside him, felt Logan’s weight on it.

         “You’re not feeling well.” It wasn’t a question, and Virgil didn’t bother answering, no point in denying it. Then Logan reached out.

         “Don’t-“ He yelped, trying to pull back, but Logan had already grabbed hold of his wrist. As he watched, it turned almost translucent, revealing the shadows swirling around inside, thick and viscous, like a combination of oil and smog roiling beneath his skin. He heard Logan inhale sharply, felt his eyes on him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look up. To see the disgust and fear and pity on his face, to see him recoil now that he’d seen what lay beneath the surface, now that he knew what he really was.

         “I thought so.” Was what he mused instead. Virgil’s head jerked up, looking at Logan, who was staring into the distance, as if calculating something in his head. “How long have you been using this ability?” He asked. Virgil hunched his shoulders, hugging his knees to his chest.

         “What ability?” He muttered. He felt Logan’s stern gaze on him again, then heard him sigh.

         “I noticed you doing it to Patton the other night. You touched his hand, then he became noticeably more… well, cheery. And Roman, the other day. He’d had writers block for hours, then two minutes with you and he’s writing up a storm. I’ve noticed other times, too, where short interactions with you suddenly leave one of the others more lighthearted and you more downcast, especially and concerningly so as of late. So, I will ask again. How long have you been using this ability?” Virgil bit his lip, hesitating, before shrugging.

         “Always. I’ve always had it. Always used it, even when I was... was one of Them. Makes sense, right? Anxiety can absorb other Sides’ anxieties. Makes it easier for everyone to function, doesn’t impede me doing my job. After a while it just, I dunno, fades away from me.” He replied.

         “But now it isn’t, is it? Instead of gradually fading away, it is instead accumulating to previously unforeseen levels, perhaps dangerously so and to your detriment.”

         “I’m fine, teach. Just some added worries. Nothing I can’t handle.” Virgil replied, giving Logan a smile, stretching. Logan simply frowned.

         “You’re not fine, Virg. I could feel you, the whole mindscape could. You’ve never felt like that, not even during a panic attack. This, what you’re doing, I don’t know why it’s hurting you this way now, when it wasn’t before, but you need to stop using it, at least until we can figure out why.” Virgil looked like he was going to argue for a moment, but then he deflated, seeming to sink into himself.

         “then what good am I? If I can’t even do my job, what’s the point?” He whispered, voice shaking.

         “Oh Virgil. This isn’t your job. It’s not your job to take away everyone else’s worries, it’s not your job to put all of that on yourself, it’s not your job to keep it all inside you until you fall apart and your emotional well being is compromised. Your job is to keep Thomas safe, and doing what he needs to, in order to survive.”

         Then Logan was suddenly hugging him. He blinked in surprise before leaning into it, letting all his own stress cry itself dry. Virgil was too preoccupied to notice, but Logan wasn’t, as he watched some of the darkness swirling inside Virgil slip onto his own skin, and sink into it. He felt a bit heavier, a bit more stressed for no particular reason than usual, but it wasn’t cumbersome, and it wasn’t a hinderance to his function.

         He realized that just as Virgil could siphon away other’s stresses and worries, he too, could siphon away some of Virgil’s. He wondered if all of the others could do it. It made sense, that it would work both ways. He supposed it would naturally fade away over time, but that it faded faster the less there was, just as worries, once stacked on top of each other, lingered longer than if they had been one single thought.

         He ran the calculations in his mind. He could take a bit from Virgil, make sure it dissipated fully, then take some more, and soon he would be back to normal levels. As long as he monitored the situation, and started easing some of the added worry before it built up to such high levels again, it shouldn’t affect either of them. He would have to be discreet, of course, just as Virgil didn’t want anyone to know he was siphoning away their anxieties, Virgil wouldn’t approve of Logan taking away his.

         “It’s ok, Virgil. It’s ok.” Logan whispered, hesitantly stroking Virgil’s hair as he rocked him. He generally wasn’t the one dealing with emotions, and was slightly out of practice in comforting people, but his efforts seemed to be working as Virgil’s sobs slowly came to a halt, and he drew away, wiping his eyes.

         “I don’t know why it’s so much. Why it… it hurts, so much. It’s never been like this before, never. Something must be wrong with me, something isn’t working right.” Virgil rambled, wiping his nose on his sweater sleeve.

         “Just take a break from using it for a while, alright? You have so much accumulated right now, it just needs more time to break down. Don’t use it for, let’s say a week, and then we’ll see how you feel. As long as you are honest with me about the state of the build up. Ok?” Logan asked, Virgil meeting his eyes as he nodded.

         “Ok teach.” Logan smiled softly.

         “good. Now, do you want to try and get some more rest, or do you want to come help with breakfast?” Virgil smiled wryly.

         “I think sleep is out of the question. Might as well make sure the kitchen doesn’t go down in flames.” They made small talk the rest of the morning as they cooked, the repetitive pattern of it soothing Virgil’s mind somewhat, letting him relax without realizing it, making Logan sigh with relief.

         It seemed he’d managed to get this power of Virgil’s under control once again. But that begged the question, if it had been previously under control, who had been siphoning away the stress from Virgil? Certainly not Remus. So, it must have been… Deceit?

Not for the first time, Logan wondered how close Virgil had been with the others before moving to the other side of the mindscape. Close enough that small touches of affection were acceptable, if Deceit truly had been managing Virgil’s skill. Yet Virgil seemed to hate him so vehemently now. He sighed, flipping pancakes. That was a mystery for another day.

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Worth It

My half of an art-trade with @calista-222. I hope you like it! They were cool with pretty much anything but then suggested a Stan O’ War fic and I just had to go for it! I love seeing how the Kings of the Sea are doing out on their dream boat!

If any of you are interested in an art-trade, hit me up! More information can be found here!

~~~~~~~~~~

Stan opened his eyes, but it took him a minute or two to truly wake up, and then a few more minutes to figure out what woke him. His back was sore, but that wasn’t what pulled him from his slumber. There was no disturbing light or sounds. No storm that rocked the boat and no sense of incoming danger.

An echo of voices. It wasn’t fair to call it a nightmare, because there was no “plot” and no real fear, just a lurching feeling that something was wrong, a deja vu feeling from the end of summer.

“It’s me! Grunkle Stan, it’s me!”

“It’s all gone.”

“I KNOW my grunkle is in there somewhere!”

“Stan has no idea, but he did it. He saved the world. He saved me.”

“We saved the world, but what’s the point?”

“... you’re our hero, Stanley.”

Stan sighed to himself. Many other voices had plagued his sleep, but those stuck out. He can still remember what he was thinking and feeling that day. First, confusion. Just mild confusion with no real panic. Then a bizarre what-did-I-walk-into feeling, like he was invading something private. When the stranger in the suit hugged him he automatically felt compelled to do something, but he had no idea what and no one was asking him to do anything. That wasn’t true; they were begging him to remember. But remember what? Did he forget something important, like an item at the grocery store, or a task he had to accomplish? It didn’t seem likely, all he really knew was his own name, and that was only because everyone around him called him that. Then when they were in the house he finally felt comfortable, the first real feeling like he belonged, and then right before Waddles jumped on him he had a strong sense of regret, but for what? 

It was no wonder that by the end of the day he was exhausted and fell asleep with his family clinging onto that old armchair. Forget fighting an unholy demon, that rollercoaster of emotions was enough to knock anyone out cold for days.

Stan, now fully recovered and with all of his memories (all of the important ones, anyways), still occasionally had to live with the consequences of his actions, like unpeaceful night of sleep and the sickening feeling that his family’s suffering was partly his fault. Sure, Sixer made a deal with the triangle in the first place, and yes Mabel traded the rift away, and yeah okay Stan only agreed to it because he believe it was the only way (and because it was just too easy), but the fact that he caused those kids and his brother so much pain really stinks.

Oh well. What was it that Ma used to say? No use crying over spilt milk? Hm, milk. Stan threw off his covers and decided to get up and have a midnight snack. He popped his back and then glanced up at the bunk bed above him, then shook his head when he found the bed empty; Ford was elsewhere on the Stan O’ War II. Stan slipped on his slippers and pulled on his robe before leaving the small bedroom for the main area on the boat, the living room, dining room, and kitchen all in one small, confined space. 

Sure enough, sitting at the dining table with books and journals before him was his nerdy twin brother, with an empty cup of joe by his side. Most of the light came from the moon outside, leaking in through a window, and a bright lantern on the table. Ford looked up at him and gave him a concerned look. “Everything alright, Stanley?”

The old conman shook his head. “Yeah, just gettin’ a midnight snack.” He opened the fridge and grabbed the carton of milk, checking to make sure it was still fine to use before fishing out the pot to heat it up. “Want some warm milk?”

“Thank you, but no thank you. I’m in the middle of a good train of thought and I would rather not disturb it with drowsiness that would lead to sleep.”

“Geez, Poindexter, you do know that humans need sleep to, I dunno, not end up dead, right?”

Ford chuckled and wrote something down in his journal. “Yes, I know. I swear, once I finish this I’ll go to bed.”

Stan just smiled and whisked the milk in the pot. “Fine, whatever. But if I have to pull your sorry butt outta the Arctic ocean again, you’re gonna…” The younger twin was interrupted by a distant cellphone ringing, a cheerful tune. He hurried back to the bedroom with his brother closely behind him. It sounded like Mabel was calling and she might need help. Just in time, Stan picked up his phone from the nightstand and answered it, putting it on speaker so Ford could listen. “Mabel, pumpkin?”

“Hi, Grunkle Stan!” Her cheerful voice rang.

Stan could breathe a little easier. He and Ford heard from those kids at least three times a day via text messages, e-mails, and phone calls, but usually their calls weren’t at three in the morning. “Hey there, sweetie. Whatcha up to?”

“Nothing, just missed my favorite old guys in the whole world.” Mabel said, and it sounded like she was being honest. No nightmares and she needed counselling, no bad boys giving her grief, no girls making fun of her. She truly was calling just to call.

“We missed you too, pumpkin.”

“Hello there, Mabel.” Ford called as they walked back to the main room to make sure the milk wouldn’t burn. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah! Waddles got to come to school today! My art classes needed a good muse and I volunteered Waddles! He got to roll around in front of the whole class and just be cute while he painted and sketched or whatever everyone felt like doing, and he loved it! Our teacher even gave him potatoes! He had so much fun!”

“Course that fat, naked jerk would love all that extra attention.” Stan sneered as he whisked some honey into the milk. “How’s your folks liking him?”

“Dad loves him! Says he makes the perfect football-buddy! Mom was unsure about him at first, but now he follows her around and she likes him enough. Kinda like someone else I know who claims to hate him but actually really really loved him.”

“No idea what you’re talking about. How are your parents?”

“They’re fine. Busy. Dad’s working on this new TV show about a boy with magical powers and alien stepmoms, and Mom’s really busy at the hospital. It’s mostly been Dip-Dip and I and Waddles here.”

“Mabel!” A voice interrupted her from afar. “Do you know what time it is?!”

“It’s only seven, Dipper, relax.”

“That means it’s three in the morning for them!”

Mabel gasped as she realized her mistake. “I thought you said eight hours back, not forward! I’m sorry, guys!” She said to her great-uncles. “I’m sorry I woke you up!” She was worried that she had scared them or had bothered them from a goodnight’s sleep.

“Nah, we were awake, sweetie, don’t worry about it.” Stan reassured her. “Don’t you ever apologize for calling, okay? I’m always happy to hear from you, no matter what time of day.”

“Well, okay. If you're sure.”

“We’re sure, my dear.” Ford added. “Is your brother there?”

“Yeah! Hold on… DIPPIN’ SAUCE!” It sounded like Mabel was running towards him and soon her end of the line was on speaker, too.

“Hey guys, sorry, I told Mabel…”

“Dipper, get off her back.” Stan chuckled. “It’s like I told her, I don’t want any of you little gremlins to ever say sorry for calling, okay?”

Dipper was grateful that his uncles couldn’t see his reddening face. “Okay. So… uh, how was Galway?”

“Oh, it was beautiful!” Ford answered; he took the phone from Stan so he could work on the milk safely and he sat at the table. “You kids would have found it breathtaking! The architecture of the town was gorgeous…”

“The Galway Girls were prettier.” Stan added in.

Ford chuckled. “Yes, apparently Stan managed to charm a handful of ladies there, one inn-keeper in particular took a fancy to him.”

“Took a fancy, what year is it, ya nerd, 1886?”

The kids laughed at the other end. “Did you find any selkies or mermaids?” Mabel asked; ever since Ford told her about selkies she had her heart set on seeing one.

“No, not yet.” Ford said. “But I promise that when we meet one we will let you know.”

“Do you honestly think selkies are real?” Dipper asked. “I mean they’re not like sirens or any other species that has been discovered; it’s a species entirely dependent on magic.”

“Magic is nothing more than science we can’t explain, Dipper. I’m sure that there is, at least, a possibility of selkies existing. Now, a bit off topic perhaps, but tell us about the robotic club. You said you’re working on a recreation of an old robot from an 80s movie?”

Dipper and Mabel happily chatted about their day while their uncles listened. Stan, a few minutes later was leaning against the counter with a mug of warm milk in his hands. He sipped his beverage as he watched Ford listen attentively, the phone on the table, the picture of Mabel and Dipper lighting up the tiny screen. Despite everything, Stan smiled contently, knowing that if he had to do it all over again he would.

[alice-in-gingerland]

Axel/Roxas - Beauty and the Beast

So, I’ve been out of the writing game for roughly ten years, since university killed my spirit. But lately I’ve had this idea playing around in my head and wanted to see if I could still write. So I am slowly writing my Akuroku retelling of Beauty and the Beast. Posting the first chapter draft of chapter one here and hope people can give some feedback and maybe some ideas. Let’s see what happens!

________________________________________________________________

Namine sighed heavily, torn between slamming her face into her palms or shouting at the ragtag team in front of her.

‘You literally could have just taken a horse each!’

Sora raised his eyebrows in confusion, a cookie still raised partially to his lips.

‘But we only had one rope between the three of us.’

‘Plus, dwarves are too short to ride a full sized horse alone,’ added Riku, gesturing to a nodding Kairi. 

‘You didn’t even need a rope once Kairi’s character subdued them,’ Namine exclaimed.

Kairi giggled at her sister’s obvious exasperation but chose not to let it go just yet, ‘but you can’t control a horse like that, it’s not realistic.’

The whole group were beginning to laugh at the absurdness of the situation, even Riku was trembling slightly, trying to hold back his amusement at the normally calm dungeon master who was turning vaguely pink with frustration.

‘Why do you guys always have to make big events out of tiny situations, we’ll never get to the main parts of the quest if you keep doing this.’ She slammed the book in front of her closed with an air of finality, causing Sora to pout.

‘Ah Nams, you never let us mess around, that’s half the fun of DnD!’

Riku tilted back in his chair to check the clock on the kitchen wall, ‘to be fair, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably finish up and head home.’   

‘Let's make camp for the night, I’ll tie up the horses. We’re only a few kilometres from the town so will be good to rest up in case there’s a fight,’ said Sora, his eyes darting over the colourful map that covered the majority of the dining room table they sat at.

Namine rubbed her forehead tiredly before beginning to carefully pack away her books and pens. 

Sora was decidedly less careful, using his forearm to sweep his dice, notebook and other odds and ends into a waiting cardboard box, causing Riku to wince.

‘Before we head home, what’s the plan for Halloween this weekend,’ Kairi queried. She stretched out her back to loosen her muscles after a few hours being confined to the table, her russet hair almost tickling the small of her back. Namine tapped one of her colouring pens against her dusky pink lips, debating how she would like to spend one of her favourite holidays of the year.

Riku snorted, still leaning back dangerously in his chair and obviously in no hurry to assist with the clean up. ‘Aren’t we getting a bit too old to be trick or treating?’

Sora stuck his tongue out at the older boy, following up with a nudge to his chair. Riku’s azure eyes widened in panic as he struggled to stop from toppling backwards; he managed to right himself and gave Sora a victorious smirk.

‘Just because you turn fifteen soon doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stop enjoying ourselves,’ retorted Kairi, swiftly linking her arm through Sora’s.

The young brunette posed thoughtfully as he lent into his best friends supporting frame.

‘He does have a point though, maybe we could do something a bit more, I dunno, exciting this year?’

Namine’s brow dipped in concern, knowing from experience what Sora meant by exciting. Kairi nudged Sora with her hip. 

‘By exciting, I think you mean dangerous…’

The boy glanced to his right, a mock hurt expression crossing his face, ‘ well it doesn’t have to be anything bad, just maybe something scary. You know, to frighten Mr All Grown Up.’

Namine clapped her hands together in excitement, startling the three other teens who turned to her in puzzlement. The young girl’s features were alight with excitement, her usual cornflower blue eyes darkened with intent.

‘I think we should go to the old Wildwood House.’

Sora and Kairi almost bounced in excitement. Sneaking into the old Wildwood House had been a tradition for the teenage population in their town for at least the past two decades. The old manor house had been empty for over one hundred years, allowing multiple rumours to circulate regarding why no one had bought it; tales varying from gruesome murders to alien abduction. It didn’t help that the house sat imposingly upon the tallest hill in the area, surrounded by a dense pine wood that was often enveloped in thick mist due to the multiple hot springs the territory was known for. 

Namine beamed at her sister and Sora’s reactions as she began to twirl her ash blonde hair between her finger tips; her usual habit when dreaming up artistic ideas.

‘I’ve wanted to go for a while, apparently the architecture is untouched and even the original furniture and furnishings are unblemished - a paused moment in time. I really want to take some photos and maybe make a few quick sketches, but it’s way too creepy to go alone.’

The petite girl turned her pleading gaze upon Riku, who swiftly noticed all three of his friends were staring at him, silently pleading for his agreement.

‘Well if you three pansies think you’re up for it, why not,’ he shrugged, hooked his arms behind his head nonchalantly.

Sora grabbed Kairi’s hand, which she noticed was trembling slightly.

‘Oh my god Kairi, I can’t wait! Did you hear that the whole family was murdered up there by a wild axeman, and the ghosts still haunt the woods because they are buried in the floorboard.’

Kairi scoffed and argued, ‘don’t be stupid, they would have found the bodies. Everyone knows they made some kind of deal with the fairies for an immortal life and were transported to the faerie plain, they only return once a year to steal souls for the fairies.’

‘I heard that the man who lived there sold his soul to a fire demon for eternal beauty and power,’ retorted Namine. Riku let out a snicker and flicked a stray dice at the blonde. ‘Honestly, that’s the plot from Howl’s Moving Castle, you muppet.’

The youngest girl blushed and the four teenagers continued to bicker until they were interrupted by heavy footfalls and genial masculine voice.

‘Nah, the owner made a wish with a genie to be immortal, but it didn’t pan out quite the way he planned.’

Two young men appeared at the bottom of the stairs, one with a mischievous grin and pushed back dirty blonde hair, the other with an almost cherubic face; almost identical to Sora except obviously older with golden blonde styled locks, instead of a brown unkempt birdnest the younger brother liked to sport. 

Roxas pondered for a moment, nudging his friend out of the way so he could grab a crisp from the bowl on the table, ‘that’s not it either, it was a djinn. He was so set on looking for power that he was possessed by a travelling djinn.’ He popped the crisp into his mouth and almost immediately winced, ‘what is wrong with you guys, prawn cocktail, really!’ Roxas grimaced and wiped his fingers on his little brother’s shirt. 

Sora visibly bristled, shoving his brother away from the group.

‘What are you two doing down here, go away!’     

‘Snacks of course,’ Hayner countered, grabbing a handful of prawn cocktail crisps and winking in Namine’s direction. Riku narrowed his eyes and tugged the younger girl to his side; he didn’t mind Roxas, but his flirtatious friend could often be a little too forward with Kairi and Namine. The girls never seemed to mind, but Riku knew that Hayner was less than innocent and not very faithful at that. He had overheard arguments between the two older boys regarding Hayner’s treatment of women for at least two years. He’d never mention it to Sora but he had accidentally walked in on the pair of them locked in an extremely heated embrace once. The memory of their tongues and roaming hands made him nauseous and caused a shudder to ripple through his body. Hayner obviously didn’t care whose pants he was getting into as long as he was getting satisfaction from them.   

Deciding he’d annoyed his brother and company enough, Roxas gestured for his friend to follow him into the adjoining kitchen. 

‘Come on, let the kids play.’

Hayner gave a brief wave and grin before accompanying Roxas into the kitchen and closing the door behind them. 

‘Ah, that takes me back.’

Roxas raised an eyebrow in question whilst grabbing two cans of fizzy from the fridge, passing one to the other boy. Hayner gratefully accepted the can, popping it open with a satisfying hiss and taking a large gulp before answering, ‘you know, when you, me, Pence and Ollette used to come round here and play a bit of dungeons and dragons.’

Roxas rested his hip against the sideboard, his gaze turning pensive for a moment.

‘Yeah, back before it was cool,’ he laughed, ‘also before we discovered the lure of alcohol.’

Hayner slid forward and lightly caressed Roxas’s forearm, his voice taking on a heated tone ‘before we discovered other things as well.’

Roxas’s eyes flashed with annoyance and he gently but firmly brushed away the offending appendage. ‘Aren’t you seeing that guy Seifer.’

He moved away from his promiscuous friend, putting a bit of distance between them before taking a sip of his drink. Fooling around with Hayner has always been fun, but he worried it was a distraction from him finding a real and meaningful relationship; something Roxas was starting to desire more than simply sexual gratification. He wanted dedication and passion, and was perfectly aware Hayner was not capable of fulfilling those needs. He also wasn’t keen on accidentally becoming ‘the other man’ when his friend inevitably forgot he was in a monogamous relationship. 

‘I was only teasing,’ Hayner said, not looking as chagrined as Roxas believed he should be feeling.

“Anyway, me and Seifer aren’t exactly exclusive,’ he continued, picking at the side of his can, ‘pretty sure he’s crashing with Fuu and there’s no way those two are platonic.’

Sensing his friend's discomfort Roxas replied, ‘you don’t know that, you know better than I do that he fights with his Dad on the regular. He probably just needed a safe place to stay and him and Fuu have been mates since primary school.’

A small smile flit across Hayner’s face as he glanced up.

“You’re probably right, always are.’

Roxas gave the taller boy a shove and the two chuckled quietly.

Sounds of giggling and shuffling trickled under the kitchen door as the pair relaxed into an amicable silence.

“Do you remember when we went up to the Wildwood House,” Roxas murmured.

Hayner shifted, leaning back on his tanned arms, ‘yeah, it was creepy man, but only because it was old and dark and we were thirteen.’

Roxas frowned, “what about the figure I saw, and that burning fire?’

Hayner snorted and replied, ‘dude, you freaked out at a curtain, and some group who went up before us must have lit a candle to scare the next visitors. Just don’t say anything to the kids; Sora will get all hyped up then they’ll all be disappointed when it’s just an empty old house.’

Yanking open a cupboard door, Hayner extracted a bag of bacon rasher crisps and a packet of party ring biscuits and gathered them under his arm.

“Come on mate, got your fav biscuits, let’s go destroy strangers on Rocket League.’

The muscular blonde elbowed open the door and strode away, leaving Roxas to his vague memories of a slim cloaked figure reaching out to him with a palm of smokeless flames. 

[thiswasinevitableid]

I would love for you to do the sharing favours professionally from the rivalry/ friends to enemies to lovers for the prompt fill for indruck? (I'm on mobile so can't copy the whole prompt) 😁

“ we’ve been begrudgingly sharing favours back and forth to help each other out professionally but this time i need you to do something more personal and you know you wouldn’t have gotten that account without my help last month or that promotion so you owe me.”

Content note: There’s a brief description of Indrid’s ex being verbally shitty to him.

“No, nuh uh, aboslutely no fuckin way.” Duck maneuvers the last butterfly bush into its display row, stands up to find Indrid glaring at him.

“Why not?”

“Indrid, we see plenty of each other at work. I’m not gettin roped into some evenin shindig with you just because you asked.”

He heads inside, the skinny, pale-haired man on his heels.

“Duck, please, I help you out all the time.”

“Yeah, with work. And it’s only now and then.” He settles behind the counter, checking off the deliveries that have already happened. Indrid stays on the other side of it.

“Oh, really?” he arches a dark eyebrow (of course the guy dyes his hair), “what about the time I made sure city hall chose us for the five year landscaping contract even when you were the one who was supposed to be working on winning them over?”

“That how we’re playin?” Duck leans on his elbows, staring Indrid down, “because I seem to recall it was me who helped convince Mama that havin a little florists space so you could do your arrangements was a swell idea.”

Indrid opens his mouth to retort when the phone rings.

Duck grabs it, “Mama’s Nursery and Landscapin, Duck speakin. Oh, howdy Winthrop. Yep, expectin the last orders this week, then we’ll get started on that zen garden. Uh huh. I see. We’ll see what we can do. You have a nice day now.”

He clicks the phone off, “I hate the rich bastard, but he wants us to do the landscapin on their summer home, which’ll be a nice chunk of change.”

“See! There’s another one you owe me. You have such a hard time being in the room with him, the only reason we got the hospital garden job is because I turned on the charm.”

“Is that what you call it when you get that weird smile on your face?”

Indrid groans in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. When his hand drops away he looks...defeated. 

He and Duck may bicker, may compete from time to time, but Indrid’s a good guy. Hell, Duck will even admit (begrudgingly) that he often enjoys how much the two of them work together. 

Duck sighs, forces his brain to switch from arguing mode to problem solving mode, “Indrid, what’s all this about?”

“I told you, I have an art showing.”

“Right, but why do you need me to go. Why do you need anyone, ain’t your job at those to make small talk and hope people say nice things about your drawins?”

Indrid swallows, picks at the front of his work apron, “He’s going to be there.” He says meekly. 

“He-oh fuck, you mean The Shithead?”

Indrid nods.

“He tryin to pull some stunt to make you take him back?”

Indrid laughs bitterly, “no, he’s been all over his social media bragging about how he’s going to turn up with a hot date to my show,  “show me what I gave up” and all that. Dani saw it and warned me so he couldn’t take me by surprise. I have so few friends in town, and everyone but you has work or something else that night. I thought it would be nice to have someone I knew with me.”

Duck thinks about Indrid’s ex. The guy’d come into the shop plenty of times, often making a big show of putting a possessive arm around Indrid (who never seemed to enjoy the gesture). At least, that’s what he always did when Duck was around. Worse, whenever Indrid was describing a new landscaping design, or working on an arrangement, the ex would pick at it, say how it was bad or lacking, that it would never work and no one would like it. And Duck would watch the glimmer dim in Indrids’ eyes, watch him go quiet (find him more than once sniffling and wiping his eyes furiously in an outbuilding once the guy left).

He looks back at the other man, who is staring at his scuffed converse. 

“Where am I meetin you and what time should I get there?”

--------------------------------------

Duck gives a tight smile to the group of hip twentysomethings crowding the door of the building as he squeezes through. It’s some art space/ coffee house/ bar that isn’t quite his scene, although he likes that it’s warm and lively as opposed to the fluorescent lights and weird silence he was expecting. 

He doesn’t spot Indrid right away, and so takes a moment to look at the drawings on the wall. They’re Indrid’s alright, he can recognize the ways they overlap with the sketches he does for arrangements or the plans he draws up for gardens. And they’re incredible, black and white with pops of color, a few abstract or dreamlike but many seeming more like still lifes. 

One in particular catches his eye and he stares at for a good two minutes, trying to figure out why it looks so familiar. 

“Ahem.” 

He turns, and has to forcibly stop his jaw from dropping.

Indrid is in dark slacks and some sort flowy black shall-jacket thing over a bright red shirt. His hair is tousled on purpose, rather than from getting it caught on plants.  

Has he always looked this good?

“Thanks for coming.” He says awkwardly, extending one of the two glasses he’s holding to Duck. 

“This all looks amazin.” Duck says, taking the drink with a smile. Indrid relaxes at that.

“Oh, I’m, uh, glad you like it.”

“What’s this one of?” Duck points to the drawing he’d been staring at.

“It’s of a really lovely, big cork oak up on one of the eastwoods trails. I like to go there on weekends and sketch.”

“Hold up, that the trail that ends at the little lake?”

“Yes.”

“No fuckin way! I hike that nearly every weekend. Amazed I’ve never seen you.”

“I’m usually off the trail a little ways.” He grins sheepishly when Duck looks aghast at this confession, “I know that’s not allowed but I’m able to get such different perspectives on the things I draw.”

“If, uh, if you wanted to, maybe we could go up together some time. Could leave you to do your drawin while I hiked and then, dunno, maybe get lunch of somethin?” 

Indrid looks a little surprised at the suggestion, but recovers quickly, “That sounds quite nice, actually.”

Duck stays by Indrid as he makes the rounds, asking him about the different drawings and enjoying the way he animatedly describes the process and idea behind each. 

The Shithead arrives about forty-five minutes in. Duck spots him first, complete with a date on his arm. The date is tall, slender, with pale hair, looking like Indrid if he were a model rather than just a regular guy. Or, Duck thinks as he watches the ex preen, as if someone took Indrid and erased all the things that made him so interesting to look at.

“Ex just got here.” He murmurs, and Indrid stiffens beside him. Duck, seized with a sudden need to protect him from that jerk, places an arm reassuringly on his lower back. Indrid glances at him, face unreadable, but relaxes into the touch. For the next fifteen minutes, whenever The Shithead makes a loud, derisive comment, Duck will squeeze Indrids hand or brush his fingers down his back and Indrid will shake off the words. 

There are several people wanting to buy drawings and so Indrid excuses himself to go thank them.

“Knew you’d be the one to pick up the scraps.” Says a familiar, unpleasant voice.

Duck turns, levels The Shithead with his most disinterested gaze. 

“Nice to see you too. And I ain’t got the slightest clue what you’re referrin to.”

“He was always talking about you. ‘Oh, Duck knows so much about native plants,’ ‘oh, Duck has such good ideas.’” He says it in a mocking, high pitched imitation of Indrids lilt and Duck wonders if he can get away with physically throwing him out of the building. 

“Anyway, it doesn’t surprise me that when I traded up, he went crawling to you. Honestly, you can do much better.”

“Beg pardon?” Duck growls.

“Let me see, how to put this in terms you understand? Why waste your time on a weed when you could have a prizewinning rose?”

“Because,” Duck says through gritted teeth, “sometimes people call things weeds just cause they don’t behave exactly how they want ‘em too, or because they don’t see the value in ‘em.” He steps closer to the ex, not noticing that he’s stopped whispering, “You fucked up. You were shitty and Indrid had the good sense to dump you and now you’re doin some petty shit to try and hurt him. He’s amazin at what he does, he works hard, he’s funny, and he’s so handsome I wanna look at him every damn day. You didn’t see the value in him. That’s your loss. Now fuck. Off.”

The Shithead is about to say something when a hand grabs his shoulder. His date is behind him, looking pissed.

“Hold on, you asked me out to try and hurt your ex?”

“Uhhh, babe, no, I can explain.”

Duck smirks, turns to check on Indrid just in time to see him slip out a side door.

“Goddammit.” He mutters, quickly following him. 

The door opens into an alley, and Indrid is standing with his back to him. When he turns, his hands are over his mouth and his eyes are wet. But he doesn’t look unhappy.

“You like me.” He whispers. 

“Uh” Duck scrambles, “well, yeah, we’re, uh, friendly types, fuck.”

“You think I’m handsome.”

“Shit, you heard all of that?”

Indrid nods, Duck sighs.

“Fuck it. Yeah, I think you’re handsome. And all the other stuff. And lots of, uh, other stuff that I didn’t say but could’ve.

Indrid steps closer, “Is the part where you admit all our arguing has been the only safe outlet for your, um, passion for me?”

Duck snorts, “Hell no, sometimes you need a fella who’ll tell when an idea ain’t feasible. But…” He meets Indrids hopeful gaze and smiles, “I’d be lyin if I said I ain’t thought about what it’d be like to be a different kind of partner to you.”

Indrid reaches for him, and Duck goes willingly into his arms as the taller man blushes and says, “Yes, I’ve thought about that quite a lot as well.”

------------------------------------------

 Dani’s glad Indrids’ show is open so late. It means she and Aubrey can go once Aubreys’ act is over. She even texted Jake and Hollis, asking if they wanted to check it out too (also, if Indrid’s ex was there, having someone who looked like, and basically was, the head of a motorcycle gang would come in really handy).

When the four of them reach the bar, she peeks in hoping to see Indrid, but can’t spot the taller man (or Duck) anywhere.

“Huh, maybe he left?”

“Or maybe he’s taking a little ‘break.’” Hollis makes airquotes before pointing up. They all look towards the balcony, which clearly isn’t in use for the party. 

It is, however, in use for the two figures currently occupying it for a long and intense looking kiss. One is wearing red glasses, the other lets out a laugh that unmistakably belongs to Duck Newton. 

“We should give them some privacy.” Aubrey says. The other three look at her, and then she grins.

“Just kidding! WOOOOOO GET IT DUCK!”

“ABOUT FUCKING TIME DUDES.”

“GET A ROOM!”

“I’M SORRY ABOUT THEM BUT GOOD FOR YOU!”

----------------------------------

The sound of his friends catcalling them breaks Ducks concentration for all of two seconds. Then he flips them the bird, and goes back to the very important business of making out with his boyfriend.