#I just need a little humor

[blanc-et-n0ir]

Isagi and Rin fake dating AU where Rin insists that he has to be better than Sae at everything, personal life included. While they're both pretty reclusive and they typically keep to themselves so Rin never really had any competition for that BUT THEN, he noticed after the U20 that Sae started talking to Shidou and it's not just friendly talking either.

So Rin's face twitches at the thought that Sae is gonna get a boyfriend before he does and decides that NO. That is the second to the last fucking thing he wants to lose to Sae to (with football being the last one).

Enter Isagi fucking Yoichi.

On the field, Rin knows that Isagi is wild, abrasive and pretty hostile and aggressive. All things that you can probably compare him to Shidou with. HOWEVER, one major thing is that off the field Isagi is pretty tame, genuine and kind! Even going as far as to be compassionate and compromising. He's like, the model son in law or whatever if Rin's research is right (he just went into a few social media comments of old people gushing over what they want in their in laws).

Rin takes this as a win.

Not only did he score a boyfriend before Sae, his boyfriend would be like infinitely more respectful and have the best first impression with his parents. So, take that, Sae! (He doesn't even know there's a competition, he's just really happy Rin found someone cause he's been pretty lonely without clinging to Sae lately).

Rin obviously approaches Isagi about it pretty bluntly and Isagi is all confused but willing cause Rin was pretty pushy about it and this is probably the first time EVER he's asked for something. At this point, Isagi is just there for the ride and he's pretty chill with it.

They fake date. Rin insists they go on practice dates so they can sort of iron out the details and practice couple stuff (holding hands, hugging, small kisses to the cheeks) and all that. ENTER falling in love but on both sides. Here's the thing! Rin doesn't know SHIT about fake dating so he forgot to add the IMPORTANT CLAUSE (read: we're not allowed to fall in love) cause he's just that dense.

Family dinners comes around, Rin is... Actually nervous about this cause this is the first time he's brought... ANYONE home. Friend or boyfriend or fake boyfriend or whatever! So, he times it that Sae is there and he introduces Isagi as his boyfriend and Isagi is all king and polite and smiles and they're both doing great! And Rin's mom suggests that Isagi should stay over since it got pretty late (to bond they did a few family games and stuff) and once Rin and Isagi are inside the room. And alone.

Rin just covers his face with his hands and internally screams cause he can't believe he was actually pretty happy and enjoyed that entire experience and now Isagi makes his stomach flutter and oh god Isagi would NEVER like him back and-

And Isagi takes his hands away from his face slowly and he's looking at him with his stupid smile and a stupidly cute flushed face and this is where they confess and the night ends with them cuddling cause they're actually together together.

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[intheholler]

"Turning My Snarky Appalachian Mamaw's Quotes into Inspirational Posters" from appalachopossum

[hanzajesthanza]

the training montage in crossroads re-ignited a headcanon i had of geralt waking up and doing gymnastics, performing kickflips and mid-air spins around on a fencepost outside an hour before sunrise to ‘limber up,’ and bleary-eyed dandelion wrapping himself up in a blanket to be like "heyyy... what the hell are you doing 💖"

[concert-bflat]

I need to rant about Ivan guys guys I neeed to rant about Ivan (<--- keeps trying to write fics of him but Never finishes him) like God this man is so gay and so in love it genuinely hurts it Hurts and I am Injured by it and the imagrey is Sooo Good (and Yes this is probably me just parroting stuff Everyone has already said before but shut up it's my turn now!! (aka please I've been holding in these thoughts for Months now I must let them out of their cage before one of them Dies)) [Edit I am Not fucking proofreading this I spent 2 hours on it if there is a mistake you Imagined it </3]

Just like,

You can see it in the way he sees the stars in Till. His own hopes for freedom and the only real light in this world that he lost sight of in Till. He is the hope and wish for freedom that he has shut away and repressed and it makes him fall So Hard

Or how you only really see that red in his eyes (after. Almost Dying) when he's with or singing/thinking about how Till has Inspired him, like a fire has been lit inside him. A fire lit in the darkness. . hmm...

even at the end of the song, where he knows full well that he absolutely Crushed his opponent and also knows full well that Till is his next one. I'm sick. I'm so sick.

Or like. When he frees Till and everything is just Engulfed in that red now. How Till has that same fire in his eyes, he and Ivan are on the same page now. They see that same hope for freedom and they both share it. They're running towards the light (like the sky's lighter there, more on that in a sec), hell, the corners of the right side of the screen are literally tinted in LIGHT GREEN. Till's color. God dammit the whole scene is tinted in red and green. They are literally Complementary Colors. I'mmm soooooooo (God these scenes are soo pretty too I was genuinely Stunned when I first saw this)

DID YOU EVEN NOTICE I ONLY NOTICED NOW the Stars are fucking green. You can see it better in some of the Later Images but they are Literally Green because Ivan sees the stars in Till and uuuughsdfbshb

OR LIKE WHEN TILL TURNS BACK?? AND. And that red is no longer in his eyes and before The Realization hits Ivan his eyes are just Glowing with red. Because he was just Filled with that hope. Freedom was, potentially, Right There

Did you guys even notice in that like. 5 frames in the half-second animation of Till turning away he's totally engulfed in his shade of green. Like of Course. That's such a Till thing to do because of Course he's running back he never actually liked Ivan that way in the first place.

And also the lighting of the sky Flips. Because the light has always been with Till. And Ivan's left in the darkness. In the. Haha. Ha. Black Sorrow. Aha *sits down cries*

And Again with this mf's stupid eyes how they revert to just black because that hope's been stripped away again, how it's even reflected in his present self singing as he reminisces on it. Fucking. Ivan's Expression when Till runs away.T here's so fucking much like the irony. Like did he even see Till hesitate or did he just see him turn and run away.

Like the irony that the guy who's always breaking the rules and fighting and defying and clearly hating living in a world like this won't run away with him, who has always been passive and obeying the rules and just accepting captivity and has been repressing his desire for freedom is so Bitter and Awful but also he always Knew this would happen what the Hell was he thinking this was such a stupid idea like

this man gets No Breaks No Breaks Ever oh yeah btw they're facing off against each other in a literal Death Match. That they might've had a Chance of avoiding if they ran away. Ahah. Hh *sob*

Also this art brings me so much Joy as much as it hurts me on a visceral level like. Ivan Always has his eyes on Till but it goes from a fond smile. Like So Fond flat out lovestruck affectionate gaze because he loves this man and loves spending time with him to a grimace once they're on stage. How Till never really changes or really Has Changed, and that's why Ivan loves him as much as he is resentful towards him. How that's what brought them here, to the stage. How Ivan changed for Till and Because of Till but still Till is like a god damn immovable object with how he stubbornly sticks to his ways. There's such resentment but isn't he himself also stubborn for always sticking to Till anyways? Hell, he's singing all about him in Round 3 and loses control over his own emotions and expressions during it I'mmm Guhhh

Also the first image is titled Observation while the second one is titled Decision(? I think). Like mf What are you deciding. What happened Last Time you decided to do something I'm going to punt you into the next planet

Speaking of observing,

Just. How Ivan's Always Observing. I saw one person point out he's like a background character and it's like he sees himself as one too. He is a passive observer in his Own Life. How he watches all the other children in Anakt garden play. How his childhood leading him to Anakt Garden just kind of. Happens around him while he watches indifferently.

How he's always trailing behind Till. Or how he tends to just. Observe quietly and is portrayed as such.

Not to mention how he doesn't appear in the memories of Anyone else's rounds, not even Till's, even when he literally (temporarily) freed him from the city. He doesn't even appear At All in Luka's round even though we get a clear shot of Till getting his hopes and dreams shattered (though it Does parallel another shot of him from Round 2)

And then the One Times he tries to take action. Or start something. It gets rejected and he's resigned to just. Trailing behind again. Because of Course he'll always follow after Till. And of Course he's fucking bitter about it and bitter about himself because he Knew this would happen and Till is Always looking at someone else and that Never Changes but. He just thought for a moment that he could change something. Man.

Oh I forgot to talk about the competitions themselves huh? Wellll, (and I'll Attempt to keep it brief because I've been writing this post for Much too long but)

Till spends his first round singing completely devotedly to Mizi. Hell, his song wasn't even in the program, it's likely- no, almost definitely something he wrote entirely for her, and Ivan has no part in it, just watches bitterly as he passes out after his, er, stunt at the end

And continues to be passed out for almost the entirety of Ivan's song

Oh but he woke up for the emotional/musical climax at least, going over Ivan's most important memory of them together, that's cool at least right?! Surely Till felt something from that

Maybe they can talk something out, or at least acknowledge their relationship in Some way. Maybe Ivan could at least be seen by Till-

Aaand Till's Actual love interest Supposedly gets shot and now he probably thinks she's dead. His attention is turned to her once again, like it's always been from the start. He never really changes huh?

Better luck next time Ivan--

Just. This mf Never Wins and it makes me Laugh as much as it makes me So Sad

Gets hopes and dreams and future crushed by aliens (standard stuff). Sold off in an auction. Put in prestigious singing school and up to that point he hasn't really cared about Anything and has simply been going through the motions.

Meets boy that basically embodies the freedom and hope he used to have. Falls badly in love. Boy loves someone else. Tries to free him and give him the thing he'd surely want most. Rejected. Back to school you go loser.

Oh btw this school is to train you for a competition to the death. Btw you're facing off against that boy you love in the semi-finals of said death competition. And you might kill him or he'll kill you. Because you didn't run away when you had the chance.

Also he didn't sing or think about you at all during his round. In fact I'm pretty sure he wrote a whole ass song that wasn't even registered in the Alien Queue or whatever for someone else. Also he probably has hardly looked at you. Also he was unconscious for almost the entirety of your song. Except for the part where you lost control of your emotions.

Oh but that doesn't matter now because now he thinks the person He likes was just killed. So he's kiiinda gonna be distracted by that. And that might fuck up your round with him. Sorry man

This was Originally a rant about how much I love Black Sorrow's imagery and the portrayal of Ivan's love because this man clearly has Complex Emotions and then Kinda derailed into me just ranting about how many L's he's being handed before getting the executioner's blade. Uhhhhh oops. Congrats on sticking to the end though?

I just love Ivan very much. He is So Bitter and so Horribly In Love and looks up to and is inspired by Till So Much and I wish people explored him on a deeper level/more personally.

I wish I saw more deep looks at Ivan/Till, there's clearly Complicated Things going on there. Hell, we don't even know what Till's pov on the whole thing is aside from that One scene of him hesitating before running away from Ivan. As much as I love fluffy interpretations of them, I (did I mention that I'm an angst addict btw. Could You Tell) wish all their Complexities could be acknowledged. Like how Ivan Clearly puts Till on such a spotlight and it is Such a downfall for him through and through and he Kinda knows it but also What Else does he Have and he really looks up to him Sooo Much (just. Look at them in that official art of them in Anakt Garden !!!) and deep down just wants to run away from this horrible place and wants to run with Till, the Light of his life the fire in the darkness the fucking stars the universe his black sorrow just. Oh My God I need to end this post already I was supposed to be studying but spent those 2 hours Writing instead

But anyways yeah uuhhh long story short? This guy is a gay loser. He tries to look sooo cool and smooth but he is suuuch a gay lovestruck loser and his rose tinted glasses are so thick he can't see shit (I'm pretty sure I quoted that from something (but also no genuinely when I first got into alnst after just watching the first 3 rounds videos and saw Ivan in official art I was So Surprised like "Oh he's actually That kind of mf that tries to look Cool and Hot but is actually just Pathetic and Sad and Gay I thought he was Just Sad and Gay")) he's probably also touchstarved as hell idk and his love is doomed by the narrative (unless Hyuna saves his and Till's asses. Buuut we'll see </333)

Love ya Ivan keep taking L's <3333 mwah

[good-beansdraws]

Massive Milgramsona art/info dump as a treat to myself!! Alas, my fatal flaw is being unable to shut up about anything even while simultaneously embarrassed/nervous to share, so here's literally all the info I have on her 😅

Profile:

Name: For the sake of posting online I’ll call her Rose!

Number: 012

Color: #E7355B

Age: She’d be 20 when Milgram started

Status: Milgram Staff, Machine Technician

Song genre: Pop/theater (a mix of Mahiru and Kazui's vibes)

Backstory: She is studying abroad in Japan to work on technology related to the mv machine when she stumbles into top secret info about the trials. Horrified at the lack of prior testing, she demands to be included in the experiment to make sure the brand new tech runs smoothly and doesn't harm anyone in the process. To prevent her leaking info to the public and deciding an extra participant wouldn't hurt, Milgram agrees.

Role: Rose performs routine maintenance and updates on the extraction machine, and checks in with prisoners' health to make sure it's not having any adverse effects. She listens in on the interrogations, ringing the bell to signal Es when the machine is ready for use (re: my theory on how it works >:3). She then watches the mvs after Es to make sure there are no glitches.

(Though she is a personal milgramsona, her role in the story is supposed to reflect the audience's experience overall when it comes to how much info we know, emotions we experiencing regarding guilt/responsibility, and how much power over events we actually have given the voting system and trial breaks.)

Trial 1

Jackalope's comments during trial commencement: Oh, I almost forgot participant 012, Rose. We've never had more than one staff member before, so we figured that sort of numbering would be fine. Hey, don't look at me, it's not like it was our idea to include her. She's not a prisoner -- the only crime she's committed is sticking her nose where it didn't belong... You can ask her for the details, but she's just here for maintenance on our extraction machine. It's not easy keeping that thing running smoothly, you know? As part of her duties, she'll be privy to all the same information as you, but don't let her be any more of a busybody than she already is -- she has absolutely no authority when it comes to your verdict decisions, got it?

MV: Mic Check - “Can anyone hear me?”

VD: Positive Feedback

Cover: Pathological Facade - Ghost

Her album would release last in line. The VDs aren't interrogations since there's been no crime -- Es asks about her duties and observations of the prison. In them, she admits her predictions that she and Es will eventually be on trial for their involvement in the prisoner's fates.

Thus, her mvs are focused on her emotions towards the prisoners, her pride in helping bring justice, and her guilt at providing Milgram a means to pass judgement on people she cared about. I'm going to Goncharov the actual mvs/songs, but Mic Check is generally an introduction to her job behind the scenes prepping the equipment that will allow the prisoners' songs to be heard, as well kick off symbolism of her as a performer herself. She'll make a comment about how the experiment is leading to tragedy, "as if someone said Macbeth" (then covers her mouth, as she's standing in a theater herself).

I kept getting tripped up looking for Deco*27 songs that worked and weren't already taken, so I decided to go with some favorites and vibe-matching songs from other artists!

Comments during trial closing: It's good to hear you weren't a pushover when Rose gave her thoughts on the verdicts -- you guys disagreed on quite a few of them, eh? Ah... so she's not the type to pick fights, is that it? I guess that explains how she's managed to get along with everyone. (sigh) Even you knew better than to get attached like that. Well, at least she's kept our machine up and running the whole time.

Trial 2

Commencement: Now I need to wake Rose. We're going to need some extra upgrades to our machine if we want to get the most out of this round of extractions. I've got a sneaking suspicion that she and her bleeding heart are going to try and sway you during this trial. Her duty is specifically to look out for the prisoners' safety, but yours is only to judge them. Don't forget that.

MV: Changement - “Don’t say ‘break a leg,’ if it might just break.”

VD: Control Variable

Cover: TOXY - Kujiragi

I did my best to write out the title pronunciation out in katakana since I wanted it as the name of the dance move, not a direct translation of meaning. I went with シャジェモ "sha-je-mo" as the closest I could get to the "shanj-mou" sound, but feel free to correct me if there's a better way to write it. The door is based off of various set designs for Clara's home in The Nutcracker. (There's no deep meaning that this is the only one not opening -- I realized too late all the others are cracked open and my art app doesn't have the tools to easily fix that so I'm sticking with it 😭)

A changement is a small jump in ballet -- I thought it was fun to combine that (which means "to change") with Control Variable (refering to the variable in an experiment that never changes). The video shows conflicting emotions as her decisions/inaction caused so much to happen between trials, yet at the same time she feels like there's so much she'll be unable to change even if she really wants to intervene. Her mvs show the prisoners pretty regularly (since they are her crime, she's realized), and the teaser line is paired with references to Mahiru's broken leg.

The thumbnail combines different areas of study -- mechanical, medical, musical, mathematical (theater spotlight, muscles, Weakness notes, motion formulas). I think it's super cool how many areas of expertise are passed around the fanbase when discussing the characters. I've picked up new facts about plants, food, anatomy, geography, music, animals language, (sigh. color theory.), hobbies, professions, mythology, etc from fans with different fields of knowledge. While that's one of my favorite aspects of the project from the outside, I think it would be super intimidating to someone on the inside trying to tackle so much information at once.

Closing: As for Rose... (laughs) I thought she was dooming herself before--! Not only has she gotten hopelessly attached to everyone over the course of this trial, she's even started a relationship with one of the prisoners! And of all the people she could have chosen... Eh? Oh no, we have no policies against that for our staff. I mean, the whole point of Milgram is to explore human nature, the power of emotions, the complexities of connections, all that crap. I'm just grateful she shows a bit more common sense when she's operating the machine...

Trial 3

MV: Showstopper - “There won’t be applause, but I’ll take a bow, okay?”

VD: Please Exit Left

Cover: Ironina - Nilfruits

I don't know the album theme yet, but this is the tentative sprite and thumbnail design. The T2 sprite was kind of an "innocent" one, since at the beginning she still has faith in her role in the prison, excited to work with everyone there. (Plus, I joined the fandom a little after t2 started so that's peak excitement time lol). The T3 sprite has much more of a "guitly" feel to it because, at the end of T2 and after this hiatus, she'd harbor a lot more guilt about her position and fear about the experiment's conclusion. As a fun little detail, her pencil has been replaced with a more permanent utensil as final verdicts are locked in.

Now listen. My artist brain was constantly fighting my science brain when doing sprite designs -- I know gloves like that and nothing else isn't proper PPE. I know none of those are safety shoes (god forbid wearing just socks??? to the lab???). There should be no jewellery at all. The whole point of a lab coat is that you don't roll up the sleeves and expose your bare skin. However. It's anime character design. There can be compromise.

Referencing Rose's personal life as a performance and comparing Milgram's trials to one, I wanted the mv to play on "showstopper" as both a great show and a literal attempt to stop the project before it reaches its finale. There would be creepy comparisons in the mv between operating stage equipment and prison executions: curtain/set ropes and nooses, heavy duty lightswitches and electric chairs, etc.

Misc.

And lightening things up again -- birthday art and minigrams :3

Birth flower: Camellias. Pink camellias symbolize love but also longing. The fact that they bloom in winter, and have a quick death (the entire flower wilts at once, instead of individual petals falling off), have inspired different meanings in different cultures -- overcoming hard times, facing death in battle, inseparable lovers, and so on

Three minigrams featuring my own annoyance that her design is a bit close to Shidou's coat/gloves look, a mandatory short joke, and a pun that works so perfectly for my Put-In-Situations guy

[kayr0ss]

Waters of March (ch. 1 of 2)

[Dungeon Meshi / Delicious in Dungeon, Farcille, Fluff & Humor, Established Relationship, Married Farcille, Falin is doing her best, Marcille is stressed] AO3 Link

Summary: The misadventures of Falin Touden as she gathers gifts to woo her wife.

-

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

They said that she was something fearsome to behold: with sharp, draconic eyes and a glorious cover of feathers. They said that she had the strength of a dragon, tempered by justice and kindness—a figure of legend—as terrifying as she was fair. And yet...

The baker fidgeted with his hands, swallowed, stuttered: “...Your Highness?”

And yet it was hard to think of her like that when she was hunched over a tray of raspberry tarts and croissants, visibly distressed by the burden of making the right pastry choice.

She was so normal that he could feel his mind slip into cognitive dissonance, refusing to believe that the Duchess of Melini was pacing around his pastry shop in a crumpled cloak. Her hair was disheveled, her expression forlorn. She pulled her collar further up her neck, a miserable attempt at hiding her tufts of feathers, offering a small yet weary smile to the townsfolk beginning to gawk into his shop window.

“Oh, please don’t call me that,” she asked kindly. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene at your workplace.”

Yes. Of course. Nothing to see here, just Falin Touden—Falin Touden!—sighing despondently at a box of chocolate treats. The baker was a bit lost for words, hovering awkwardly behind the counter while she scanned the shelves. Sure, okay, they were right about the feathers—but where he had expected mystery, or perhaps authority, he instead found a soft and gentle kindness. Even a little bit of awkwardness, if the way she fidgeted with her fingers was any indication.

She caught sight of his more peculiar treats: hardened chocolates shaped in the form of coin bugs. Was that awestruck wonder shining in her dragon's eyes?

"My apologies." He bowed, struggling to drop the honorific. She gave him a lighthearted wave.

Falin Touden circled the bakery for another while yet, her attention constantly pulled this way and that—there she fawned over caramel crickets, here she stared at a tray of macarons with studious intensity. The king's sister had tastes as peculiar as the Devourer himself, it seems, with the way she kept gravitating back towards his more.... monstrous design choices. He was about to tell her all about them, too—about how the molding chocolate was made from cacao beans found further east than Izganda, or how he'd spent years practicing his tempering technique—but she beat him to the punch with a question.

“Are you married?”

A very peculiar question too!

“For nearly two decades now, my lady.” He watched as she looked through the pie display a third time over. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I know how that feels,” Falin smiled wistfully. She toyed with the golden band at her left hand absentmindedly. He wondered if she even realized she did that. “Maybe you can offer me a bit of advice?”

“Advice?”

"You see," her smile turned sheepish, “my wife is furious with me.”

-

They had minimized the choices to 'puff pastry' and 'raspberry'—which didn't really make it that much easier. Helping clients figure out the perfect gift for a loved one was second nature to the baker by now, but dissuading someone from buying their spouse an eight-pound hydra statue was definitely... a first.

He had a few samples to show her, laid out on a spread on the counter. There were tarts, turnovers, pies, danishes—and while they weren't all filled with raspberries, he assured her that it would be of minimal effort to have a custom order made.

She regarded them with delight, ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the display of perfect, golden, flaky dough.

"Oh," she sighed dreamily. "They look wonderful. I could eat them all!"

"We could also make strudels," the baker offered, suddenly excited. Did the Royal Sorceress enjoy strudels? Perhaps something more dignified like: "Twists! Although palmiers are good option as well—drizzled with syrup, dusted off with fine sugar—"

The barrage of choices seems to have overwhelmed the poor woman, now blinking wide-eyed at the baker who very quickly schooled his demeanor. "My apologies, Your Highness!" He squawked, wincing at the way the title made her jump. "My excitement got the better of me."

"It's alright," she said with a laugh.

The baker hummed for a thoughtful minute. "What about mille-feuille?"

"Mill—um, what?"

"They're little rectangles of puff pastry, folded over and over again until each layer is so thin that they're almost like the pages of a book!" He smiled. "We could use raspberry cream, layered in between."

Her small, charmed gasp let him know he hit the nail on the head. "Like the tomes she pores over day-by-day!"

He ran behind the counter, reaching into his display where he had samples. "These are layered with simple buttercream—" he placed the tray in front of her "—but it would look something like this." This batch had come out handsomely: a dozen little rectangles, cut to perfection. There were three layers of puff pastry, each of their pages so thin he feared a stray breath of air might chip away the corners. A generous spread of cream lay between them, finished off with a dusting of fine sugar. While some of his clients liked things a little messy-looking, opting for the casual shapelessness of goopy drop cookies and uneven brownies, others liked symmetric perfection. Lady Donato seemed to be the latter, if his impression of her was sound: a stern, intelligent, and practical presence above the King's shoulder. Yes. It was settled. Mille-feuille would do.

She was in a much better mood by the time they had ironed out the details of her order—her shoulders relaxed, feathers almost settled in relief.

"I'm glad this place hasn't changed that much," she commented off-handedly while counting her coins. (He offered the pastries for free—she vehemently refused.)

"Have you been here before?"

"Mhm," she nods. "When Melini was still just an island, my brother and I would come here after particularly rewarding dungeon runs."

He paled. Her brother? The—"The King?"

"We probably seemed so different back then."

It's a bit of a blur—but he has faint memories of a scraggly pair of siblings with ash-blonde hair. They were too thin for the weapons they carried—the young man had barely filled out enough to fit his jerkin. Both had innocent, amber eyes—too hopeful and naive for this world.

It couldn't be...

"Well, I've got someone to meet." Falin Touden said, climbing out his back window. Why was she climbing out his back window? "I'll pick them up later this afternoon!"

She waved, threw her legs over the ledge, and was off.

-

"I'm still mad at you!" Marcille grumbled.

She looked so very vexed—an interesting contrast to how gently she was straightening out Falin's collar, smoothing out her feathers until they lay flat and presentable.

"But!" Marcille punctuated with an accusatory finger to Falin's chest. "You shouldn't miss lunch, you know that your metabolism is different now."

Lunch. The whole affair of finding the perfect pastry had caused Falin to miss it.

Marcille was right—her appetite was different now. It ran deep, as though it was more than just the physical sensation of needing to eat. Falin's hunger had grown with her strength. Marcille (and Laios!) had sat her down and forced her to endure lecture upon lecture on the intricacies of tall-man and dragon physiology—it almost felt like academy lessons! Stronger muscles, sharper eyes, deeper mana—all of that meant she needed more energy, and a regular tall-man's stomach could only digest so much. She'd just have to eat more. A lot more. It was a bit troublesome on her travels, but her days back home have become a joyful assortment of extra brunches, second dinners, and justified treats in-between.

How wonderful it was—the fact that the two people she loved the most had the perfect intersection of knowledge to help her.

Although today was not the day to be skipping her all-important meals: she'd planned to spend an hour or two foraging for magical plants with Senshi in the nearby woods. When she arrived at their meeting place outside the castle, Marcille was already there—glowering at her with one hand on her hip, a bag of packed lunch and travel snacks in the other. She had shoved it into Falin's hands before fussing over the disheveled state of her clothing.

"Sorry," Falin said earnestly, hoping to soothe Marcille's sharp temper. It was a hot, overbearing day. The humidity probably wasn't helping her mood. A sheen of sweat covered Marcille's forehead, and she had grown flushed from the heat. So beautiful—even while she huffed and puffed and pouted. Falin felt a wave of affection as overbearing as the heat of the sun on their backs.

She really, really needed to make it up to her today.

"Don't be late for dinner," Marcille mumbled, crossing her arms.

"Of course." Falin promised.

"Keep her alive for me?" Marcille said towards Senshi, who had been here the whole time but was very good at pretending he was somewhere else completely.

He held a thumbs up. "She'll probably be keeping me alive for you, lass."

That made her laugh a little, and Falin was going to have to thank him for that later. Marcille leaned over to give him a small hug. Falin followed, hoping to get one too, leaning forward to place her hands on Marcille's waist, but—

No such luck—Marcille swatted her away. "Uh-uh!" she tutted. "You're not off the hook!"

She pulled back, holding her hands up in resignation. She wasn't trying to pout—really, she wasn't—but there was a small crack in Marcille's resolve when she did and Falin was willing to take her chances. Marcille was stubborn, though. A stubborn (and wonderful) woman who simply would not give in just yet.

With a final round of goodbyes and reminders, Marcille finally walked (stomped?) back into the castle, seemingly in a better mood than she was before.

"What did you do?" Senshi stood beside her as they watched her disappear into the double doors of the gate.

"Well, my mother-in-law is arriving this weekend." Falin fiddled with her sleeve. "And I forgot."

Senshi sighed. Then he brought up a hand to give Falin a firm pat on the back in solidarity.

-

A pollux mushroom can be used as an enchanting reagent, she could almost hear Marcille's voice in her head. You can tell them apart from others by their double-layered caps and bright colors. But they're not edible, even if they look like candy!

They really did look like candy. There was a multicolored bundle of vivid colors that sat nestled by the roots of an aged, mossy willow tree. Falin wanted to eat them. They had gathered a good amount of plants by now, but having these would make their trip worth it twice over. It was the perfect gift to give Marcille—

—if only there wasn't a giant boar between them and the mushrooms.

"Quiet now," Senshi whispered, crouched behind a thicket of bushes they'd been hiding in. She nodded, carefully parting the leaves, her nose twitching at the scent of prey. It was a mean-looking fellow with menacing, curved tusks that jutted out of its lip. It stomped its hooves on the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust, looking around as though it could feel their eyes on its back—already on alert.

"Oh, that's a wonderful looking creature right there." There was something in Senshi's voice... some sort of anticipation. Not concern though, there was hardly anything to worry about between the two of them and a boar. But he was tense. Almost as if he was... excited?

"You know what we should do to help with Marcille?"

"What?" she whispered back, her hands tightening around the grip of her mace.

He had sparkles in his eyes—mushrooms forgotten. "Cook her favorite meal."

Their eyes connected.

Falin did her best to fight down a grin. Yes, of course, yes! What a wonderful thought—glazed cutlets of pork layered over pasta, a bit of cabbage, garlic, bean sprouts, egg! She trained her eyes back to the boar—the promise of a wonderful meal—and sank low. She felt for the knife sheathed by her boot. If they did this right, there wouldn't be much of a fight or a mess, and—

Her stomach grumbled so loudly that blood rushed up her neck.

Senshi dropped his face into his palms.

Falin chucked nervously.

The boar had whipped its head towards them.

It let out a monstrous squeal—pounding its hooves against the dirt. There was a minute of sweet, tense, silence before it bolted right towards them.

Falin swung on instinct—knife forgotten—her arm throwing her mace in arc effortlessly while Senshi rolled out of the way in an expert maneuver—

"Don't ruin it!" Senshi scolded. She blinked in surprise, changing the trajectory of her mace in the last minute before hitting dirt. "We need it intact around the shoulders—" he dodged a hoof "—and the legs for some ham, and—" Falin jumped back, eyes wide, nearly getting impaled by a tusk "—even the head, for stew!"

"That's the whole boar!" Falin whined. "Where else am I supposed to hit it?!"

"Knife it in the neck!" He deflected another kick with his axe. "Wait—no—the jowl is wonderful for—"

"Sorry Senshi," she growled, rolling over, steadying herself and gripping her mace with both hands. She really hoped she wouldn't have to walk back to the castle covered in blood with a boar slung over her shoulder. "I'm going to bash its head in."

-

She showed up to the castle covered in blood with a boar slung over her shoulders.

While the staff and been gracefully quiet about her ridiculous appearance on the way in, Chilchuck—on his way out from a labor meeting with the council sans Falin—had screeched at the sight of her, shivering hard enough that she swore the hairs on his arms stood on end.

"Falin!"

"Hey, Chilchuck." Falin looked around. "Marcille—"

"—is in a terrible mood!" Chilchuck growled, already pushing her (and the boar by proxy) towards the kitchens. "Negotiations were close to falling out this afternoon," he rattled on, "she's already terrorizing Kabru and your brother—if she sees you looking like you just murdered someone she's going to be an even bigger pain in our asses!"

"Well, I sort of did?"

"Unhelpful!" He whipped his head towards Senshi, who was whistling innocently behind them. "And you! Did you put her up to this?"

"I just made a suggestion."

Chilchuck pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course you did."

"He was just trying to help," Falin pouted. She muttered a small thanks to the kitchen staff that had unloaded the boar from her back. "I've been trying to put together a few things to give to Marcille, since she's upset with me at the moment."

Chilchuck scratched at the back of his neck, scowling. "She did seem unusually ornery at the meeting today."

"Yeah," Falin sighed. "Senshi suggested we put together her favorite meal, something like the one he prepared for her back in the dungeon. I've already ordered some pastries for dessert."

They lingered in the back of the kitchen, watching as Senshi climbed onto a stool to look over the fresh boar carcass, butcher's knife in hand. He instructed the rest of the staff well, happy to have their help butchering it. She'd spent enough time under his tutelage to understand his process: He'd make pulled pork and sausages from the shoulder and cure some of the belly for bacon. The rest of the belly he would stuff with herbs and lemongrass and aromatics, rolling it up with twine and roasting in an oven before crackling the skin with scalding oil. He called that one pork belly lechon roll—and just the thought of it made her mouth water: the crackle of the skin, offering slight resistance before it gave in to tender, juicy meat covered in a delectable layer of fat that melted in your mouth.

There were the usual cuts of meat, too: ham out of its haunches, short ribs pulled apart for sour soup. He got to the head and—well, she was very good at clubbing things to their death so probably no stew this time, sadly.

Chilchuck considered her plans. "That's a good call, actually."

She beamed.

"She's probably irritable ‘cause she hasn't been able to catch a break for a good meal today." He rubbed at his chin. "What did you even do?"

Falin didn't really fancy being asked the second time in the same day, so she was glad when Senshi looked over his shoulder and answered for her. Though her relief was immediately replaced with concern at how pale Chilchuck had gone.

"Falin." He covered his face with his hands. "You done fucked up."

"Is it—" she blinked. "Is it really so bad?"

"In-laws are the most complicated part of marriage!" He grabbed her by the arms, as though shaken by some long-buried anxiety. "You need to buy her flowers! And—" he gave her a once-over from head to toe, shaking his head in disappointment. "We can go to the markets later to get some, but first you have to clean up, we're not walking around the city with you covered in blood!"

"I can’t cook with you two stirring so much of a fuss!" Senshi grumbled from his perch atop the stool. "You two go take care of finding Marcille's flowers, and I'll make sure dinner is ready by the time you get back."

Next thing she knew she was being pulled out of the kitchens, Chilchuck's hand around her wrist while he stomped back into the castle's main hall in a way that reminded her of her father.

"Um," she looked up at the elaborate clock on the far side of the hall, having to bend downwards so that Chilchuck could comfortably pull her along. It was three and a half hours past noon, which meant Marcille might be back in their quarters to rest. She'd need to figure out how to get changed without being spotted. She thumbed her chin, aimlessly following Chilchuck while he led her through the castle, wondering if maybe she'd left a shirt or two in Laios' chambers—or maybe borrow one of his? Surely it was better than this—stained deep with blood still fresh from the animal. Yes. Okay. Laios' chambers it is. They reached the hallway that led to the royal wing and Chilchuck finally let go. "I'll wait over here," he sank into one of the visiting couches.

She realized that she'd have to pass by the entrance to her and Marcille's chambers on the way to Laois. Not wanting to risk any premature meetings, she looked around, and found the appropriate detour.

She pointed at a window.

"I'm going to go this way."

"That's a window."

"I know."

"You know what," Chilchuck threw his hands up. "Whatever."

-

So, maybe the detour wasn't entirely necessary—but it was fun! From out here, she had a good hypothetical view of the town below: how the city sprawled outwards and then thinned before turning into golden fields that rolled on and on. Hypothetical because, well, it was hard to sight-see with your front pressed against the wall, holding on by the edges of your fingers and the lip of your boots.

The royal wing was, in reality, a random tower in the corner of the castle that had sections converted to separate apartments with rooms, kitchens, and living areas. The former royal wing was too much for any of them: Laios decided there were better uses for such grand, extravagant spaces.

She dropped lower when she passed by several windows that she knew opened up to her and Marcille's chambers—the first was their bedroom window, the second was their living area, and last was a small little square that let a breeze into their kitchen. She knew the way fairly well by now and was familiar with which of the bricks jutted out of the walls just right enough to be a hand hold. Overall, she was thrilled by the height and air that whipped around her.

It wasn't long before she spotted it: Laios' window on the opposite side of the tower. She bit her lip and scaled the few dozen feet that remained.

-

Laios—who was bored out of his mind after that god-awful meeting—had found reprieve from said boredom in the form of a bloodied hand coming up to claw at his windowsill.

He gasped and startled up to his feet, grasping reflexively towards where Kensuke rested on his hip before realizing that he'd left Kensuke out in a dungeon. (Nevermind that he was wearing lounge wear instead of armor.) There was some shuffling and then another hand came up, dirtied and smudged with blood under its fingernails. Laios couldn't help the panic and morbid excitement that filled him. Could it have been a zombie? A ghoul? He'd never heard of them having the inclination to scale walls—much less several stories up! Massive changes in its ecosystem often pushed deviations in monster behavior, though. Perhaps it was cornered into finding a new habitat?

But most importantly (and it made his breath shudder oh so sweetly to think of it), if it was near him—a monster—did it mean—could the curse have possibly been—?!

A mop of ash blonde hair bobbed into view, followed by a pair of amber eyes identical to his.

He sunk back into the couch. "Oh. It's just you, Falin."

Falin knitted her eyebrows. "Good to see you too?"

Whatever complaints he had were snuffed out when she pulled herself up and over his windowsill. She looked terrible—covered in blood from what looked to be a shoulder wound. "Falin?" He was quick on his feet, setting a firm but gentle hand on her shoulder with a scowl on his face. The surge of mana to his hand was almost instinctive—seeking to mend together whatever flesh might have still been undone—but she softly pushed him away.

"I'm okay," she reassured. "That's animal blood. I hunted."

"Oh!" What a relief. "Good," he looked out his window curiously. "Why did you come in through the window?"

"Hiding from Marcille," she admitted sheepishly. "Did I leave any spare clothes here by chance? Or could I borrow a shirt? I just need to—" she gestured vaguely towards herself.

There was a knock on his door. The siblings fell silent.

"Laois?"

Their heads whipped towards each other, a panicked stare between them. "That's Marcille," he whispered, grabbing onto her arm. She had grabbed it back.

"I know!"

He looked down at her shirt. "Oh, you've got to hide."

"I'm trying!"

There was another knock, more insistent this time. "Hello, Laios?"

"I know!" He whispered, already pushing her back out the way she came in. "You gotta—" he grunted, giving her a half-hearted shove.

"Brother!” She whined, grabbing onto the edges of the window frame. "Careful!"

"I thought you were good at climbing!"

"Well, I’m bad at falling!”

"Hurry!" He glanced back towards the door. If he didn't answer, Marcille might leave. "I'll keep her here. You can scale the wall to your chambers and get changed."

Falin's eyes widened in understanding, her mouth rounding off into an ‘oh!’. She leaned back out the window and pulled her knees up to her chest. She gave him an apologetic smile. "Thank you!" And then she dropped from view, already back out to scale the castle walls.

Laios cleared his throat. Alright. Time to be brother of the year. And maybe brother-in-law of the year, too. He could tell that Marcille was having a rough day of it. Falin's got something planned, he's sure, but there must be something he could do to help other than just stall. Maybe he'll ask for another magic lesson over some tea—teaching always seemed to relax her. He wondered if—if things were different, would Marcille be an instructor by now? Academia suited her quite well.

He walked to meet her at the doorway. "It's open, Marcille. Come in!"

But then, he supposed this suited her just fine as well. Actually doing magic. Inventing all new kinds of it. Using it to help people firsthand. She'd left behind the books and scrolls to chase magic into the depths of the dungeon, after all. Just like he and Falin did.

Laios could hear the knob turn and click open, followed by the creak of his heavy, oak door.

"Hey, Laois." Her voice was tired and a little defeated. As she looked into the room, slow and tentative, Laios noticed how worn out she was: her ears were low and her shoulders heavy. Between Falin upsetting her that morning, and the meeting they'd had to sit through with the labor party—well. He'd probably be better off not bringing any of it up.

"Did you hear if Falin got back yet?"

Laios gulped. "I—uh—"

"I feel bad." She was still holding onto the door knob. "I've been short with her all day. And with you as well.” She paused, chewing at her lip. “I'm sorry. I know she didn't mean to forget our plans, but it's more than just that, it's like… everything's testing me today."

"Why don't you take a break?" He suggested. "I could make some tea." At Marcille's concerned expression, he hastily added—"the normal kind! I promise."

She smiled, even laughed a bit. "Thanks. That... that would be nice."

"I'm sure she'll be back before you know it," he reassured. "Come on in. She's with Senshi, they'll be fine. You know, I asked them to keep track of any changeling circles while they were out there. I've been thinking about how changeling transformations could actually help us understand monster genetics." She followed as he walked to his sitting room. "It seems like they only transform creatures into adjacent types of species—like humanoids to other humanoids, or the gargoyles to statues. Isn't that so interesting? Nightmares look like little clams that we'd never think of as dragons—and yet, there they are! What else? What if kelpies were actually closer to hippogriffs than horses?"

"Isn't that a little... ethically questionable?" Marcille raised an eyebrow.

Laios blinked in genuine surprise. "I hardly expected pushback from you on the grounds of ethics—"

"Hey!"

"I mean it!"

"I suppose there are merits," she admitted, her shoulders already relaxing.  "Aside from the fever, it seemed relatively painless. The only facts we know so far are that the changes are temporary, that the transformations draw from related flora and fauna, and that mass isn’t conserved. So I guess there goes physics? It isn’t quite as straightforward as reshaping the matter we’re made of.”

"Right! Having a regularly accessible patch of them would be great. It would do much for us in terms of animal and monster husbandry," His voice began to swell in excitement. “I mean, imagine being able to transform oversized livestock into something smaller whenever farmers needed to transport them. Temporary resizing!” There was an undeniable twinkle of interest in Marcille's eye while he talked her ear off. Laios allowed himself a self-satisfied smile—Marcille looked to be effectively distracted from her woes!

But just as he thought things were going well, she froze, her eyes glued to his hand. Damn! He tried to hide it behind his back, but it was too late. "Laois?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She was rushing forward towards him with a scowl. "Your hand, it's—"

Covered in blood, yes. Likely from Falin's shirt.

He stepped back suspiciously. "It's okay."

"What do you mean?" Marcille was still frowning, but at least she had stopped. She narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

"Uhm." Laios stared at the ceiling. "There was... a being." Technically true.

"A being."

"A little guy, yeah." He nodded, swallowed thickly. "It was in trouble."

"So it was bleeding." She paused to consider this. "I'm guessing it was injured?"

Laois looked sideways, beginning to feel sweat under his collar. "Kind of? I helped it."

"You healed it?"

"With my hand." He held it up. She backed away. "Yes."

They stared at each other for another moment still. She finally broke the stretching silence. "Where is it?"

He could feel the prickling heat of panic at the back of his neck. He needed to think of something. Fast. Maybe it escaped out the window? Maybe he could say it was hiding around the room? No, no—Marcille would turn the whole place over just to discover that there wasn't even really an 'it'. Laios tried not to curse, racking his brain for some reasonable explanation that Marcille would believe.

"Laios?"

Something! Anything! Do it for Falin! Marcille was starting to walk towards him, a furrow in her brow. He set his jaw, looked her straight in the eye, and tried his best to keep his voice from cracking while he said:

"I ate it."

It all happened so fast. He didn't even register that the rounded end of Ambrosia was thrust violently into his gut until he heard Marcille's panicked shriek.

"Laios!" She was inching ever closer to a heart-attack every second that passed. Hopefully she wouldn't actually get one—his sister's wrath was rare but formidable!

"Ouch!"

"Spit it out!" she growled, shaking his shoulders. He could feel her fussing over him, her palms buzzing with mana in what he assumed was an attempt to magically detect toxins.

"No!"

Marcille was kicking up a small storm, but that was okay. This was killing time as intended. She rubbed at her temples, already beginning a litany of consequences they'd have to manage if he turned up with food poisoning—again. Something about a dignitary meeting tomorrow, and a public appearance the following day. He didn't worry too much, knowing that there weren't really any gastrointestinal calamities to mitigate, but he was disappointed that her progress towards relaxation had all but come undone—and guilty to have worried her so much.

"I'm fine!" He insisted, holding up his hands (bloody and all) to assuage her.

She was unconvinced. He jumped to the side, narrowly avoiding another jab of Ambrosia's rounded end, and only hoped that Falin's plans were going better than his.

-

"Uhm." The new castle guard nudged at his partner. "Are we getting robbed?"

"Huh?"

"Over there," he pointed to the tower that held the royal family's quarters.

His partner squinted his eyes, lifting a gloved hand to cover the sun's glare. He could see... blue? A fluttering blue coat, scuttling around the walls and—ah. "No, we're not. That's Lady Touden."

The new guy whipped his head back. "What?"

"Yeah, she kind of just… does that."

They watched as she leaped upwards in what looked like an impossible feat of strength, her arm outstretched and hanging on a hand hold. They both whistled. She made it look effortless—easy!

"That's pretty awesome."

"I know, right?!"

-

to be continued

-

A/N:

I promise that the second chapter will be a majority of Marcille and Falin interacting fluff! This is meant to be a one-shot, but it kept winding on and on and was generally fun to write, so it's been split into two chapters. I'm a huge fan of some fluffy slice of life goodness so - here's my attempt at making some! The title is inspired by the song "Águas de março" by Antonio Carlos Jobim & Elise Regina (I'm a big bossa fan!). I really encourage y'all to look up the song and have a minute to yourself with a nice beverage to just relax and chill! The song encapsulates how I feel a Farcille marriage would be: a little bit of everything, ups and downs and little hiccups and stretches of bliss - always circling back to the joy in their hearts ^_^ Many, many thank yous to @saltypyrotato who beta-read this chapter. Your feedback is always so insightful! Ur the best! Some notes: In this fic I refer to Falin as a 'Duchess' - I'm not actually sure if I used it correctly buuuuuut it sounds cool soooo yeah!

[spacebubblehomebase]

Um, hello! Excuse me, but I have an-

ASK FOR YOU ALL!!!

I wanna try doing a Radioapple drawing session with other people who might be interested. Just one of those open ones for funsies and will be mostly focusing on fluff as that's my thing and I wanna meet this new community I'm in. But I don't know how. Do I need an app for this? It's unfortunate if it's because I have to pay something, but after my Finals week, I really wanna reward myself by drawing happy "shippy" stuff with you guys! ☺️ If it's at all possible, can someone tell me how? It would be greatly appreciated! 🙏 And maybe I'll even see if we can do this with those sweet Radioapple shippers on Twitter too! (And yes. I REFUSE to call it "X" or whatever.) I want it so baaad drawing with others in real time and seeing cute stuff is all I want in life PLEASE TvT haha I technically have so much to draw as I'm an art student, but it's just not the same as drawing with others while technically NOT being with others. It's like a happy middle ground for introverts and extroverts alike! Anyways, I'm rambling, but if anyone could answer this, do hit me up be it my DMs, comments or Asks, I'll be grateful for the help. Technology eludes me. 🥲 Haha. -Bubbly💙

[mossterunderthebed]

[puhpandas]

Rabbit Burrow

(3,785 words) Part 1 (part 2 found here)

Tony Becker, one year after surviving the attack from GGY, tracks down Gregory post-SB. But he has to get through Vanessa before he can get to Gregory.

Tony likes to think his detective skills are pretty good. So when he swings a leg over the seat of his bike and wheels it near the entrance, he hopes it's the right place.

He'd tracked down Gregory to this apartment complex somewhere in Gale county. It's still in Hurricane, and Tony had been able to reach it with just a bus ride. The apartment is somewhat run-down, but clean enough to where you can tell it's well kept, just old. The air conditioning units he passes on the way to the front door are brand new.

He'd taken the closest bus to Gale county right after school let out. He'd been restless all day up until finally acting on his findings. Tony has been searching for Gregory for a year. Finally finding something and having to wait for his middle school day to end was agonizing. He just hopes his Mom and Grandma wont be too mad at him.

He'd wrestled his bike he'd ridden to school that day discreetly onto the bus and wedged it in-between his legs and the seat in front of him. The air had been humid and thick all day with the signs of a storm, and Tony had seen the dark clouds and heard the thunder peeking over the treeline outside the bus window on the way here. He ducks inside the front door and beats the rain by seconds.

"Can I help you?" The receptionist asks him, giving him a weird look when he steps inside. Shes a lady with long, styled black hair and covered in jewelry. Tony tries not to look too suspicious as he sends her a polite smile, heading to the elevator on the wall to the left. He would also be wary if someone he'd never seen walked into a resident building.

"Just seeing an old friend." He tells her. He presses the button to the third floor and tries to break her gaze by stepping behind the closing doors. The elevator shakes a bit before moving up.

He tries to take a deep breath. Theres some kind of excitement floating around in his chest at the fact that he's done it, but he pushes it down, lowering his expectations.

Despite his theories, he really has no clue what to expect. Theres some sort of worry mixing with the excitement, and all he decides is that if he escaped once, he can do it again.

It both took too long and not fast enough when he finally reaches the third floor. He double checks his crumpled sheet of notebook paper in his hand once, then a second time, something nervous but anticipating thrumming in his veins.

He steps onto the beige carpet of the long hallway, fresh vacuum marks in it, and follows the number plates by each door before coming to a stop near the middle of the hall.

3-05 The plate reads back to him. He quadruple checks his paper again. Its right.

He sighs out deeply, not even realizing he was holding his breath. Despite himself, his brows crease ever so slightly.

He shakes it away, pushing past it. Maybe digging too deep is what got him into trouble before, but its different now. Tony... Tony's learned things during his search for Gregorys location. If there was any point during his investigation that he would call digging too deep, it would have been months earlier from now.

Besides. Tony has always been bad at staving off his curiosity.

He thunks his knuckles on the white wood of the door quickly after that, three times in succession. He kind of bluescreens for a second when he realizes what he just did, then shakes it off. Waiting with wide eyes at the door, watching for a rattling of a doorknob or listening for incoming footsteps.

Nothing. He waits a few more minutes before knocking again, this time a little louder and harder.

Tony perks up when footsteps finally near the door, and his lips part prematurely when the doorknob rattles, not even put-together words yet on his tongue. They fall away immediately when a woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail opens the door, one of those chain locks keeping it open maximum of three inches. "Hello?"

He stutters for a moment, words lost on his tongue, before he clears his throat, putting on a polite smile. "Hi, there." He says. "Um. Who are you?"

"I should be asking you that, kid." The woman raises a brow at him, never opening the door more than the chain lock allows it. She peers at him through the gap, and Tony tries as discreetly as possible to look past her head and shoulder into the apartment itself. "What are you doing here?"

When he looks back, shes still looking at him in a way Tony can only describe as cautious. The light in the hallway on the ceiling is flickering, and it casts split second shadows on the womans face that makes the bags under her eyes that much more prominent and her face that much more intimidating. "Well?"

Tony realizes he hasnt answered, and coughs slighty. "Oh. Sorry." He says, reluctant to continue. "I'm... I'm looking for Gregory."

Tony watches intensely to see if the name rings a bell or catches her attention. Just as he expects, her face twists ever so slightly in recognition. Tony catches something adjacent to panic or fear in her eyes until it's gone not half a second later.

"Who's asking?" She asks eventually, voice carefully even after a what appeared to Tony to be a mini conundrum in her head.

"His friend." He answers honestly. He ducks his head when the woman scrutinizes him, looking almost angry, but restrained enough to not show it. "I mean it," He says earnestly. "he and I... we were best friends. Last year. I came here to look for him."

Her eyes widen ever so slightly at that, and she studies him, eyes flicking back and forth over his face and his clothes and his hair. Tony doesnt miss the way her eyes linger for a millisecond on his scars. Its silent in the hall save for the two looking at eachother, and the buzzing of the flickering light on the ceiling is enough to save him from hearing his own heartbeat.

"Okay." She says eventually, and Tony subconsciously feels himself sag a bit at the relief that he won't turned away right as he was this close. She shuts the door without a word, and all Tony can do is stare at the peeling landlord white paint on the door as the sounds of the woman unlatching the multiple locks on the other side reach his ears. He waits patiently, until she cracks the door open not much wider than it had been with the lock, but just enough to fit his body in. "Come in. But no word to anyone. Got it?"

About what? Tony's about to ask, but then he steps through the door and the words die on his tongue.

"Oh." He says outwardly when Glamrock Freddy Fazbear sits on the couch. His body is adjacent to the patchwork quilt Tony has on his bed that his Grandma made him, and any of the makeup he had been painted with has long since scratched off.

His eyes are shut, and theres two jump cables attached to his ears that are plugged into a portable something. He doesn't so much as twitch when Tony enters the room.

The woman gives him a look after she re-locks only the deadbolt behind him and passes him into the apartment. "Oh." He repeats. "Not a word."

She nods at him, and it's only now that Tony can see the rest of her that isnt just her face. Shes in her twenties, if he had to guess, and she has a white tank top on with some sort of stain near the collar along with Hello Kitty fleece pajama pants. Her socks are mismatched and her nails are painted a purple color that could rival the deep bags under her eyes.

She collapses into an armchair (which hes pretty sure has a mismatched leg attached to it half-hazardously) and only looks at him silently as he steps further into the house, not so discreetly angling his body to get a peek past walls and open doors across the house.

Shes about to speak when Tony does first, "Wheres Greg?" He asks straight up. "Can I see him?"

Her lips twitch, and she just leans further back into the chair. The TV is playing some sort of Spring baking show, and the droning of the host mixes with the pattering of the rain on the window on the wall by the TV.

Anticipation and impatient-ness buzzes under his skin at being right here, and this woman undoubtedly knowing Gregory certainly doesnt help.

She only hesitates for a moment, but Tony can see the influx of thoughts that undoubtedly ran through her mind. She opens her mouth, taking a slow breath, before, "At school."

"He goes to school?" Tony gasps slightly, eyes widening. He moves to the couch, toeing past Freddy Fazbear as to not touch him even with just a brush of his jeans before sitting down, facing her. "What school?"

"He goes to Raindrop." The woman tells him, seemingly not hesitating this time.

It doesn't ring a bell, but it must be a middle school in Gale county. "...I go to Hailstorm." Tony says. "We both did. Or used to."

She stares at him after that, fingers drumming on the arm of her chair. She says nothing, just scrutinizing him, before, "You sure have a lot of cryptic ways of telling me how you used to know Gregory."

He wants to apologize, because it seems like what to do in response to that statement, but for some reason, that feeling in his gut he's learned to trust as his Detective sense tells him that he shouldn't.

Shes still looking at him intensely, and the rain outside pattering on the window somehow feels louder. There's some thunder outside that rumbles the floor, and the lighting casts a shadow on the living room. A few white lines across the coffee table caused by the blinds covering the window.

Her face doesnt so much as twitch, he notices, and she doesn't blink when she looks at him. Her green eyes bore into him, almost glowing in the shadow cast beneath her bangs. It reminds him of how he'd done to her not minutes ago. What he does to people he wants to analyze. To see how they react to something.

That's what shes waiting for, he realizes. He has a feeling that if he doesnt match her cryptic bluntness and instead apologizes and caves that easily, that it will somehow result in her turning him away.

Theres a glint in her eye when he becomes aware of reality again enough to look, and he thinks she somehow just came to the conclusion that Tony figured it out.

Then, he tries to sit up a bit straighter, and muster up that same glint mirroring back at him. "You sure have a cryptic way of letting me know you dont trust me."

Her mouth twitches slightly, but its all Tony needs to know he'd guessed correctly.

Its silent for a moment, and the woman grabs the remote on the next arm over and pauses the baking show she'd been watching. She shifts in the red velvet seat, as if getting comfortable, before, "Tell me how you know Gregory, and I'll tell you how I know him."

He has a feeling he isnt getting to Gregory unless he gets through this woman first, so he clears his throat, leaning his forearms on his knees.

"Me and Gregory met early last year at the beginning of the school year." He begins. "Right after summer ended in August. He was the new kid, and he sat at our table at lunch since it was mostly empty. Me and my friend arent the most popular, so there was room to spare."

She waves a hand, signaling him to stop. "Your friend?" She asks. He nods. "How many of there were you?"

"...Just me and E-- my friend." He says. "There were two of us, and when Greg sat at our table, we remembered how he looked a little lost earlier in class and we introduced ourselves. Then we just... clicked, I guess. He would partner with us in creative writing."

"Writing, huh?" She smiles slightly.

"Yeah." He replies. "Then, it was just business as usual for the months afterwards." He pauses, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket he loves so much that reminds him of the trenchcoats big city investigators wear. "Then... I had gotten wrapped up in this mystery."

She shifts, crossing a leg over the over and holding her hands together. "A mystery?"

Tony nods, remembering it like it was yesterday. He thumbs the part of arm where a scar is on his arm that his jacket covers. "The three of us would always go to the arcade in the Pizzaplex." He tells her. "And one day, I noticed high scores that seemed impossible to reach, and I became obsessed with solving who it was who had gotten there."

Tony thinks hes very good at reading people. So he doesn't think it's just his imagination when the woman in front of him goes a little rigid in her seat.

Theres some sort of creases under her eyes, Tony notices, that weren't there before.

"What did you do?" She asks.

Tony has a feeling that she somehow knows already. So he doesnt beat around the bush.

"I solved the mystery, eventually." Tony says. "Because GGY had been Gregory, and he'd invited me to the Pizzaplex and tried to kill me."

She sags a bit, looking somehow infinitely more tired, but no surprise detected. "But you survived."

"Not..." He shakes his head, picking at the skin by his fingernails. "I wouldn't have. If not for Greg saving me."

"Huh?"

"He--" Tony searches for the words, looking at the carpet between his knees and remembering that afternoon in every vivid detail he'd looked over countless times before. "He'd tried to kill me, yeah, but... he was almost fighting himself as he did it. He was like having a fistfight with himself."

He doesn't look up at her, he just keeps remembering how Gregory had gone rigid right before plunging the knife into Tony's gut a second time and stopped himself. How it had looked like somebody yanked Gregory backwards, but it had been his own self throwing his body. Just so he didnt hurt Tony again.

"He looked like he was a malfunctioning robot." He recalls. "He was like, hitting himself, and was making noises like he was fighting something. I was too frozen to move at the time, but then he threw me a really high security pass for the Pizzaplex and told me to run."

Then he had collapsed in front of him, like he was holding himself down. He doesn't tell the woman, though.

He looks back up to see her staring, eyes wide in suprise. She looks deep in thought for all but a few moments before shaking herself out of it. "So what did you do?"

"I ran." Tony says. "He had got me already. He stabbed me in the back, the first time. That was how I knew he was attacking me in the first place. But I ran away with the pass, and I went to a room with a ton of monitors and erased the security footage."

Her eyes blow wide as saucers, that time. "You got stabbed," she begins. "and instead of getting help, you erase the security footage?"

"Yeah." Tony nods. "Greg would have gotten in trouble if I didnt."

She's silent, after that. Tony just keeps picking at the skin on his fingers. "I somehow knew that Gregory didnt deserve to be. He just..." Tony trails off. "He didnt seem..."

"Seem like himself?" She suddenly cuts in, and Tony's eyes widen.

He nods, a small tilt of his head, and the woman sighs. "That's what being mind controlled will do to you."

A year ago, probably longer by now, Tony would have never believed that. He would have never thought something so outlandish that is only ever shown in fiction could be a possibility.

Not that he was wrong, to. Really, anyone in their right mind wouldnt think so. But things have changed since then.

And Tony has seen a lot of things during his search that probably nobody else has. Plus, This woman has been so cryptic up to this point. If she told him this straight up, and it's clear that she knows Gregory...

Suddenly, everything that day seems to make perfect sense. And everything he'd found that he'd filed away into his little mental Gregory crazy wall.

(He'd used to call it evidence wall, like normal people do. But, well, at some point, maybe Tony had thought the things he'd been finding were a bit too crazy to deem as normal.)

Theres been a stretch of silence while Tony had been taking that in, and he only breaks it to say, "Is mind control a topic you're familiar with in this house?"

Her eye twitches, a bit. And now that Tony is looking for it, he notices that same strange sheen on her eyes that Gregory had during their friendship. That weird red tinted film that makes their eyes turn a completely different color when the light hits them right.

Tony doesnt yet understand how the mind control Gregory had been under works, but all he can hope is that there are some side effects.

She stares at him, eyes narrow, and theres another roar of thunder outside the window.

"Who are you?"

"Tony." He answers. "Tony Becker. Ring a bell?"

She hums, and she looks at him in a way where he feels like he's being dissected.

"He didnt remember anything for a while." She says eventually. "But hes been having dreams, lately. Sometimes he talks about two kids he used to be friends with."

"Me and Ellis." Tony's eyes widen. It doesn't even occur to him that he shouldn't share Ellis's name.

"He worries about you." She says. "I've heard him say he hopes you're okay. You and that other kid. You must have been close if he remembers being that good of friends with the two of you."

"We were." Tony replies. Memories of him, Ellis, and Greg going to the Pizzaplex and trying to get the most dunks in the basketball hoops flash in his mind. He thinks about when Gregory would come over to Tony's little run down house that he shares with his Grandma, and they write graphic novels together for the fun of it.

Gregory liked to call them comics before he'd suddenly decided that stuff wasnt cool anymore and stopped coming over. It had been like everything Tony saw him enjoy that wasnt painfully average for a child suddenly didn't mean anything to him anymore.

And then Gregory tried to kill him in a dusty back room.

Everything hed given up seems to make more sense now. It wasnt willingly at all.

"He doesn't remember your names." She speaks up suddenly, ripping Tony out of his thoughts. "But he remembers more and more every time he has a dream. Something reminded him of you one day, I guess. That must have been when it started."

Tony opens his mouth, but the beeping of a digital clock interrupts him. He follows the womans arm as it reaches across the seat to turn it off.

The time reads 5:00pm.

He watches as she looks over at him, and nods to the door. "After school activity." She informs him, getting up out of the seat. His eyes follow her as she moves towards the front door. "I'm his ride."

Tony's eyes widen at the implications. "So I just--"

"Stay here." She tells him. She grabs a flannel off of the small coat rack by the front door and slips it on, sliding some Adidas sandals on top of her socks and reaching in the pocket of the coat to grab car keys. She pulls them out, and Tony notices that theres a keychain of a white rabbit dangling from the key ring.

The breath is suddenly stolen from his lungs, and he bolts off of the couch, a buzzing under his skin. "You're bringing him?"

She nods to Freddy Fazbear. "If you can wait." She smiles at him, and it's the first time Tony has seen her smile, instead of the carefully kept nonchalant-ness. "He'll wake up pretty soon once he's done charging. So you won't be completely alone."

Tony doesnt know what to say to that. Thousands of words spawned from the thousands of thoughts hes had about finding and tracking down Gregory are on the tip of his tongue, but he only gets any out when the woman begins to leave the house.

"Wait!" Tony reaches out a hand. She turns around, a brow raised. The door is still slightly ajar, and the sound of heavy rain reaches his ears. "What's your name?"

She smiles a bit at the question. "Vanessa."

"Vanessa," He asks, oddly desperate. "Dont tell him I'm here." He swallows. "I want to see him remember me."

Vanessa tilts her head, but nods after a moment. "Sure, kid."

She smiles one last time on her way out, and says, "Tony Becker."

The sound of the rain outside disperses when the door shuts and locks, and Tony doesnt move for a long while. He just stares at the landlord white door, electricity under his skin and something floaty in his stomach.

Greg. He thinks in his mind when he finally rips himself away and looks around some more, seeing a door propped slightly open down the hall with a bed and a desk with pencils and paper strewn all about. He doesn't dare go in, but stares at what he can see. Its been a while.

The silence is numbing, when he can only hear the faint whirring of Freddy Fazbear on the couch next to him and the rain on the window, he plants himself on the couch cushion next to the animatronic, grabbing the remote and resuming the baking show Vanessa had been watching.

He doesn't listen to a word. He just trembles with anticipation and bobs his leg up and down as he stares at a random corner of the screen.

ao3 link

[luck-of-the-drawings]

EPISODE 2 AND 3 HAVE BEEN SOOOO FUN im already so emotionally attached to each of these characters.. if anything bad ever happens to any of them im killing everyone and then everyone.

[tourneyofashvara]

are you sure??? are you really sure it cannot be hyphenated?? is there anything you might have overlooked????

[kyouka-supremacy]

Well.

[stcecelia]

mocumentary-style sitcom about an LDS institute class / student ward about all the shenanigans the YSAs get into. featured arcs include general conference viewing party, attending trek with the stake youth, returned missionaries adjusting to being off the mission, road trips to church historical sites, The Wedding Episode, someone invited their non-member roommate and the talks are kind of weird/its Fast Sunday, Baptism Episode, etc. would ideally include lots of references to LDS cult classics such as The Best Two Years, the singles ward, and such. also one character would have a Tumblrstake / Queerstake blog

working title is just "The Student Ward" but im open to suggestions lol

EDIT: IM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO TAG THIS AS LDSHADOWLADY I THOUGHT I DELETED THAT ACCIDENTAL AUTO-TAG LMAO THATS MY BAD

fun fact I used to watch Lizzie all the time as a kid (still occasionally do) and I used to think she was Mormon because... LDS hadowLady lol

[phantomram-b00]

This isn’t my official return, but I did want to make a poll as I’m curious but also to make an open discussion?? Idk. But here the poll (idk why this was in my thoughts— but)

[molagboop]

So I put the power of friendship and impractical outfits into Metroid Dread. No suits, no shields: we die in a giant laser hand cannon fight like true warriors.