#I’m going to draw him uglier out of spite

[panthermouthh]

Caring about Frankenstein was a mistake because I was just subjected to someone’s Horrid take out of nowhere and my nervous system reacted like a gun went off next to my head

[salami-dono]

DR. JESTER

I recreated a Sonic OC I made when I was 10. The layout of the model sheet is based on the IDW ones. :) They were very helpful. This reference took a long time to complete. I’m finally ready to introduce the evil Dr. Jester! (Most of what I write here will not be things I thought of when I was 10-12 years old.)

Here is a description of his appearance:

Dr. Jester is a robot hedgehog with a grey face and pastel pink quills. He stands at a rather tall 4 ft or 123 cm. The three quills adorning his head are tri-colored. The three colors are pink, white and pale turquoise. Peridot-colored eyes light up on a black screen. The color and shape of his eyes sometimes change depending on his mood. His original stumpy tail was replaced with a crocodile tail. It is the same pale turquoise as one of his jester quills and has magenta scutes. (There is no explanation for the new tail’s existence. It just looks cool.) His hands are black with grey palms. The joints of the fingers and thumbs are magenta.

He wears a white lab coat and white pants. An asymmetrical panel with three large buttons is connected to the collar with a magenta strip. He wears black safety boots with magenta accents. The soles are grey. The sides have screws, and the top part is white. 

The most time-consuming part of his design by far was choosing the color palette. The second and third things would be his quills and limbs. From the beginning, I wanted to use a light color for his body to match the greyscale of my old art. There isn’t a single drawing of Dr. Jester with color, nor did I leave any clues in my writing. I wanted pastel pink to work because it’s a nostalgic color. It reminds me of my pink baby blanket, my old room, pink pigs (my favorite animal when I was very young), and a pink dress—very early childhood memories.

Like all of my Sonic OCs, Dr. Jester hails from another universe. It’s more of a “perpendicular” universe to Sonic’s universe than a parallel one. Their universes interact in a way that doesn’t affect spacetime. Traveling there is as easy as entering a Special Stage. No one you know is there (and neither are you), but familiar personalities do exist in that universe. Similar locations also appear. Sonic’s Green Hill is their Emerald Hill. The idea of an alternate universe was based on a very early issue of the Archie comics that introduced the “Anti-Sonic.”

Dr. Jester is a villain of the same caliber as Dr. Eggman, or so he thinks. How did those two meet? That’s what I’d like to know… Dr. Jester referred to him as Dr. Robotnik the first time they were seen together before he learned he was going by the name “Eggman,” and Eggman called him an old friend. Eggman’s robots thought Dr. Jester was mean and unpleasant, but his robot underlings were much more friendly. They’re right.

Dr. Jester earned his name the same way Eggman did. The only difference is that Dr. Jester was called a jester since he was a kid. After a lifetime of torment, he made it his own! He’s proud of it, alright? It doesn’t matter what his real name is.

Just because he’s a robot, that doesn’t make him unemotional. Far from it! Dr. Jester is animated. He’s spiteful and cynical. Things like love and romance disgust him. He’s easily provoked and reacts strongly to insults. If his favorite robot left him, he’d be upset. Still, he smiles and laughs a lot. He’s jolly when things go his way. He enjoys puns, especially of the egg variety. Dr. Jester does not share Eggman’s short-sightedness regarding Sonic the Hedgehog with his own nemesis. When there is a plan, he sticks to it. He loves to trick others and dish out revenge whenever he can with a cold and calculated fury. Eggman is not exempt.

Of course, he also has an uglier, more dangerous side. He doesn’t care for the basic needs of living things: clean air, clean water, food and shelter. His operations threaten the health of the planet, and that endangers everyone. He’s been a robot for some time; he’s detached. It would be better if organic beings gave in and became robots. They could live forever, free from all biological constraints.

Before his mechanical transformation, Dr. Jester was once a living, breathing hedgehog. The process included a mind transfer, also called a soul/consciousness transfer, and therefore irreversible. It’s an alternate method of Robotization. (I can’t say Roboticization. lol) The power source of his robot body is a mystical gem I call the Fluorite Brain, the new home of his consciousness. A robot with a soul, that’s what he is. 

For some reason, it is difficult to replicate his level of awareness in other machines. That’s just a risk you��ll have to take when becoming a robot. What kind of person wants to become a robot anyway?

One of the most bizarre abilities of Dr. Jester’s mechanical body that I came across was that he could consume food and drink. I assume he had a habit of drinking coffee when he was alive. He could probably keep up with specific tasks for long periods, but he would get bored doing so. He sleeps to pass the time.

Surprisingly, he has some basic combat skills. He’s a slugger! His main attacks are paralyzing electric-shock punches and sweeps from his metal tail. The tail may be organic because I mentioned that it “turned into steel” before he used it. It’s a magical crocodile tail! Dr. Jester can wield the Chaos Emeralds as well. He used a pink one from his universe to hover in the air and deflect beams and missiles fired by the G.U.N. military. 

I was ecstatic to see him in action. I thought he was a wimp! He even defeated his nemesis in a one-on-one battle. I believe his true strengths are his elemental resistance and highly durable body. He does his best to avoid damage to his body. He will run away if he has to. He’s actually better at fleeing than fighting.

Dr. Jester is strong, but he has weaknesses. He is weak to the type of magic that controls electrical signals. It’s possible to take control of his mechanical body, but he is immune to mind control. He fears that magic. In the Archie comics, it’s called Magitek.

He’s also weak to kindness. He couldn’t understand why anyone would show him mercy, let alone his nemesis. In this specific scene, he was completely silent but I wonder what was going through his mind. What did they see in him? Humanity? Laughable. Is there goodness in that metal carapace? All of their problems could have been solved if they had just let him be destroyed with the Egg Carrier.

It was meant to be a humorous scene, but I noticed how strangely Dr. Jester acted during it.

Here is the line that seemingly ended Dr. Jester’s story—without context:

“Dr. Jester is long gone...”

He’s good at running away.

-

By the way, if you’re familiar with the character Dr. 0 (voiced by James Urbaniak) from Fallout: New Vegas, that’s the voice I think Dr. Jester would have. They have similar personalities, and he’s sort of a think tank himself.

[plan-d-to-i]

(google translate again, yeah)

(I forgot to thank you for the last answer, I really didn't know that the drama used the music of my compatriot, it was a pleasant surprise for me)

I don't know if anyone has asked you this before, but do you think JC was good with WWX as a kid?

I mean not just their childhood, but the time of their training in Gusu.

I really love JC, and I understand perfectly well that he is the most dick in character, but I love him precisely during my studies at Gusu, I can not give any arguments that then JC was directly GOOD to WWX, but he is clearly cared a little about him and even ... worried? at least that moment after the punishment where JC helped WWX get to the room...

Yay - I'm so happy to hear about Stravinsky :)

Hahah loving jc as the dick that he is is the way to do it! go for it. :) also, sorry this was so delayed I wanted to reread the Cloud Recesses arc so it would be fresh in my mind before answering.

In terms of jc the Cloud Recesses arc is perhaps the most 'mellow' we see him aside from the Lotus Pod Extra but for me it's still impossible to find him a worthwhile person. I can already see the faults in his character that I know will only get worse as he grows older. Canonically I don't see how he would have any friends studying in the Cloud Recesses if he didn't come as a package deal w Wei Wuxian. I mean I doubt jiang cheng would have any friends without WWX period. In fact jiang cheng doesn't make any friends over the course of 13 years. He's also unable to find a wife bc of his temperament and behavior...

What we can glean about their relationship in the Cloud Recesses arc (and even the Lotus Pod Extra) is that any time WWX gets a kind word or understanding from someone, jiang cheng scoffs at it. Any time someone shits on WWX, jc is there to agree, to relish the idea of WWX being punished, and shit on him some more. He would be an immensely exhausting person to be around. He doesnt believe in WWX's ideas and ingenuity, (as NHS does for example), he doesn't believe WWX is hurt, he always assumes the worst of him, he doesn't believe LWJ might like WWX. The only thing he ever seems to believe is that WWX will dishonor YunmengJiang and that WWX should be punished. So for a kid who supposedly wants his father's approval so badly he instead constantly acts like his mother's mouthpiece/minion. He reprimands WWX like he's trying to become Madam Yu 2.0. I see jc stans all the time being like oh he had to keep WWX in check bc WWX was such a lOOooose canon, for the good of the Clan!! lol listen JFM didn't give a f...about WWX's behavior (in his letter to LQR) why are you so concerned? JFM would have preferred for jc to try & save his peers in the Xuanwu cave or at least to understand why that was the correct course of action rather than for him to just sit in front of the class in the Cloud Recesses and tell WWX off for giving LQR as good as he got, while actually still breaking the rules himself but eschewing punishment.

salt up here, quotes below :

Even when Nie Huaisang picks up on the fact that WWX is being treated unfairly by LQR, jc dismisses it and piles on WWX instead.

Nie Huaisang said, “Old Man Lan really seems like he’s coming down especially harshly on you. Every time he reprimands someone, it’s always you.” Jiang Cheng grunted. “He deserves it. What kind of answer was that? He can get away with saying that sort of nonsense at home, but he had the nerve to say it to Lan Qiren’s face. He was practically asking for the old man to kill him!”

But does WWX get away with ANYTHING in Lotus Pier? When we know he is punished constantly for EVERYTHING? This is jiang cheng fully being his mother's mouth piece. It's not something WWX would get away with, it's something jc knows JFM wouldn't mind. Which is why he's so pissed off. Which begs the question if JFM would not be upset with WWX's behavior why does jc need to criticize him? Again :

A dark expression shadowed Jiang Cheng’s face, and his voice was filled with anger. “Why are you so proud of yourself? What is there to be proud of?! Is being told to get out some amazing accomplishment? You’re making our entire clan lose face!”

and his glee at the idea that WWX will be punished leaves a bad taste in one's mouth considering how WWX was perpetually punished in Lotus Pier by jiang cheng's mother for... existing.

Jiang Cheng smiled grimly. “Now that you’ve thoroughly offended both Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren, you’re basically dead tomorrow. No one’s going to clean up your corpse either.”

and again

Without the old one, only the young one remained. This would be easy to deal with! Wei Wuxian rolled off the bed and laughed while putting on his boots. “Heaven’s charmed clouds are blessing me with shade.” Jiang Cheng was beside him polishing his sword with loving care when he decided to spill cold water over Wei Wuxian’s head. “Just wait until he gets back. You can’t escape punishment.”

Where others like NHS see value in WWX's thoughts

Nie Huaisang thought for a while. “Actually, I thought what you said was very interesting,” he said, not entirely able to hide his envy and yearning.

jc is always dismissive of WWX's ideas. These are inventions that WWX realizes. Demonic cultivation in the first conversation and The Spirit-Attraction Flag and The Compass of Evil in the second:

“Enough,” Jiang Cheng warned. “Whatever nonsense you spout, you better not head down that sort of dark road.”

-

Changing the topic, Wei Wuxian said, “If only there was something like fishing bait that could draw the water ghosts in. Or, something that could point in the direction they’re hiding, like a compass, that sort of thing.”

“Lower your head and watch the water,” Jiang Cheng said. “You’re letting your fantasies run wild again. Concentrate on looking for water ghosts like you’re supposed to.”

“Hey, mounting swords and flying was also only a fantasy once!” Wei Wuxian said.

He's also a hypocrite. Because even though he berates WWX for misbehaving, he himself breaks the rules. He drinks, he even goads WWX into buying liquor, the only difference is that he doesn't get punished for it, and he doesn't feel like coming forward and getting punished for it :

Naturally, Jiang Cheng was too embarrassed to talk about what Wei Wuxian had been up to. After all, all of them had egged him on to go and buy alcohol, and they all deserved to be punished as well. He could only speak vaguely. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing. It’s not that bad! He can walk. Wei Wuxian, why haven’t you gotten off yet?”

It's no wonder WWX is so impressed by LWJ's integrity in spite of his social status, when he's clearly used to the other dynamic :

“Lan Zhan, I really admire you,” Wei Wuxian said sincerely. “After I told you that you had to punish yourself too, you actually did it. You didn’t let yourself off at all. I can’t argue against that.”

A dynamic which is shown repeating in the Lotus Pod Extra where WWX is the only one to get punished for sunbathing, and which repeats here when Wei Wuxian here stops jiang cheng from confronting Zixuan over YanLi's honor (and jc's) and does it himself.

Zixuan :“Why don’t you ask what about her could make me satisfied?” he said in return.

Suddenly, Jiang Cheng rose. Wei Wuxian pushed him away and stepped between them, smiling coldly. “You think you’re very satisfactory? As though you have the right to be so picky!”

Zixuan: “If she’s unhappy, then let her break off the engagement! I certainly don’t cherish your wonderful disciple-sister. If you cherish her so much, why don’t you take it up with your father? Doesn’t he love you more than his own son?”

After hearing the last sentence, Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed, and Wei Wuxian was no longer able to contain his own fury. He flew at Jin Zixuan, his fist raised.

WWX takes the punishment alone. Same way he offers to do when he hurts himself falling from a tree because jc threatened him with dogs. meanwhile jc is gleeful to see him being punished.

[Wei Wuxian] was kneeling on the stretch of pebble road to which Lan Qiren had assigned him when Jiang Cheng walked over from afar and mocked him. “You’re kneeling so obediently.”

“It’s not like you don’t know I have to do this all the time.” Wei Wuxian’s voice filled with schadenfreude. “But this Jin Zixuan guy, there’s no way he hasn’t been pampered and spoiled rotten since birth. No one’s ever forced him to kneel, I’m sure of it. If he doesn’t wind up crying for mommy and daddy today, I’m not named Wei.”....

Wei Wuxian "...It’s a good thing you didn’t do anything.”

“I was going to. If you hadn’t pushed me away, the other side of Jin Zixuan’s face would be hideous too.”

“Stop it. His face is uglier for being lopsided."

WWX is happy to have spared jc from getting into trouble but jc makes the whole thing about himself anyway (like everything else ever) and is upset JFM would rush over for WWX - in his mind. Even though JFM clearly had to rush over to meet with Jin Guangshan not to coddle WWX in any way.

"Jiang Fengmian had never rushed to another clan in less than a day because of him. Regardless of whether what happened was big or small, or good or bad." Never

WWX on the other hand tries to be observant of jc's feelings and reassure him & distract him from his moods :

When Wei Wuxian saw Jiang Cheng’s melancholy expression, he thought he was still upset with what Jin Zixuan said. “You should leave. You don’t need to keep me company any longer. If Lan Wangji comes again, he’ll catch you. If you have time, you should find Jin Zixuan and watch his pitiful kneeling.”

Later in the book after nearly dying in the Xuanwu cave WWX leaves his sick bed to run after jc and comfort him after his mother's rant, even though WWX had to listen to his parents (and himself) being slandered by YZY. jc doesn't spare any thoughts for how other people might be feeling or suffering. His entire perception of the world is centered around himself. To him even WWX's greatest fear doesn't generate empathy, only amusement or later on a form of torture.

From that point onward, they made trouble everywhere together, and if they encountered a dog, Jiang Cheng would always chase it away for him, then enjoy a peal of derisive, unbridled laughter at Wei Wuxian’s expense beneath whichever tree the boy had leapt atop.

he grew up on the streets, often having to fight for food with vicious dogs. After several bites and chases, he gradually became extremely scared of all dogs, no matter the size. Jiang Cheng laughed at him because of this quite a lot of times.

This brings me to the last point. jc's resentment of WWX's interest in Lan Zhan, or in a serious friendship outside of him. I see so many ppl say that bc WWX fought he was kicked out of the Cloud Recesses early... but was he?

Jiang Cheng was somewhat taken aback. “Lan Wangji? What was he doing here? He still has the nerve to come see you again?”

“Yeah, I think his bravery is laudable if he still has the nerve to come see me. His uncle probably told him to check on me and see if I was kneeling properly.”

Jiang Cheng’s instincts were sending him ominous signals. “So were you kneeling properly?”

“I was then,” Wei Wuxian replied. “But I waited for him to walk away a bit, then took a tree branch, lowered my head, and dug out a hole in the dirt near me. It’s the pile right by your foot—there are ant tunnels there. It took me so much effort to find them. Anyway, I waited for him to turn back and see my shoulders shaking. He had to have thought I was crying, so he came back and asked. You should have seen his face when he caught sight of the ant tunnels!

“…” Jiang Cheng said, “Why don’t you just get the hell out and go back to Yunmeng? I bet he never wants to see you again.”

Thus, that evening, Wei Wuxian packed up his things, got the hell out, and went back to Yunmeng with Jiang Fengmian.

Repeatedly throught his stay in the Cloud Recesses even while NHS was observing that LWJ's behavior around WWX was strange and unique, jc was telling WWX he is hated and bothersome. When WWX wanted to apologize to LWJ jc is completely dismissive of it :

“He hates me already? I was thinking of apologizing to him,” Wei Wuxian said.

“Oh, so you want to apologize now? It’s too late!” Jiang Cheng said derisively. “He’s exactly like his uncle. He thinks you’ve been wicked ever since you were an embryo, so it’s beneath his dignity to pay you any attention.”

Later on when WWX mentioned wanting to invite LWJ to Lotus Pier jc categorically says no.

“Jiang Cheng had on a stern expression, “Let’s make this clear. I don’t want him to come, anyhow. Don’t invite him.”

BONUS

jc also always doubts WWX. He suspects him immediately of wrongdoings. He doesn't believe that getting hit with the discipline ruler in Cloud Recesses actually hurt him until LXC confirms that WWX might take more than a few days to heal. He doesn't understand WWX is in actual trouble from the Waterborne abyss and assumes he's fooling around luckily Lan Zhan is there to rescue him:

The disciple’s lower body had already been swallowed by the black whirlpool. It spun faster and faster, and he continued to sink deeper and deeper, as though something hidden beneath the water was pulling down on his legs.

Mounted on Sandu, Jiang Cheng had risen calmly until he was about sixty meters above the whirlpool before he looked down. Filled with displeasure at what he saw, he shouted and dove down. “What are you up to now?!”

The suction force inside Lake Biling grew ever stronger. Wei Wuxian’s sword was optimized for agility, and consequently, its strength happened to fall just short, and they were nearly pulled to the surface of the lake. Wei Wuxian steadied himself and held on to Su She with both hands.

“Someone help! If I can’t pull him up soon, I’ll have to let go!” he shouted.

Suddenly, the back of Wei Wuxian’s collar tightened, and his body was lifted into the air. He twisted his neck and saw Lan Wangji holding him up with one hand.

He maintains this same mindset when he tries to whip LWJ and WWX as they're attempting to leave Lotus Pier after the ancestral hall confrontation when WWX passes out.

Is jc evil in the Cloud Recesses ? No. He's just an annoying, basic, disagreeable asshole who doesn't bring anything positive to someone like WWX. People like jc become obsessed with kind, outgoing, generous people, people who don't set boundaries on what they give and what others take in their friendships. Even though they're dependent on them for their social interactions, because who else would socialize with them willingly, they resent them in equal measure, but at the same time they wouldn't be drawn to another selfish, self centered piece of shit person like themselves.

On a personal note, even Cloud Recesses jiang cheng is someone I would exclude from any personal friend group. Friendship with him is adding a minefield of jealousies and snide comments to every interaction. Things that then others will need to compensate around because he won't compromise or empathize w issues outside of his own concerns.

Translation source : x

[emmys-grimoire]

Lesson 58 analysis + 59 predictions

I expected this lesson to drop tomorrow! It was a pleasant surprise. Sort of.

tl;dr Summary

When we last left our heroes, they were about to be decked by the bogeyman. We get saved, though! And it scampers off into a nearby room. The lesson is then just each brother tagging along with MC as they enter the room and one by one they get scared off, or do damage to the bogeyman.

Asmo’s greatest fear is just an uglier version of himself, which really does not lend any depth or credibility to the theory that he isn’t entirely self-involved. Belphie is frightened of a particular alarm clock that Satan once got him and possibly the dark (?).

Beelzebub at least gets an illusionary scene change with scary music + animated flame overlay, and his scene involves him accidentally hitting Belphegor with one of his attacks (bogeyman takes the form of Belphegor). The illusion backdrop is the Celestial Realm, so it’s clearly trying to draw a parellel between what is occurring in the illusion and what happened to Lilith.

Satan gets a similar treatment, only it’s a flaming coliseum and he’s being taunted by angel Lucifer about just being a budget Lucifer. Real Lucifer talks him out of it by pointing out their differences, but I found the things he brings up pretty surface level (he likes music while Satan prefers reading, Satan likes cats while he prefers dogs, etc.)

It seems like Satan’s wrath powers are enough to finally vanquish the bogeyman and everyone breathes a sigh of relief… UNTIL IT COMES BACK for one last round. You guessed it: it’s Lucifer’s turn.

A familiar shard of light appears in the corner of the screen, but Simeon seems to react more to it than Lucifer does. Lucifer tells him to calm down and claims it’s “his” light (spoiler: it’s not), and effortlessly banishes it once and for all. It’s very anti-climatic… because this isn’t the real climax.

Simeon, however, doesn’t recover right away. Or at all, really. We get interrupted when he’s ready to finally tell us (or later, Lucifer) what’s bothering him, so we’re kept in the dark. We receive our last star and celebrate becoming a full fledged sorcerer.

Only Luke has heard a rumor about a three-headed wolf prowling around that he informs us of via text. Guess what’s going to be the real climax?

EDIT: @obey-mes-treasure has a better explanation about Lucy's and Belphie's fears in the comments.

Analysis

Luke’s power

If we needed any confirmation that Luke has great potential, we got it in this lesson. The bogeyman’s powers don’t affect us because Luke’s blessing is still in effect and protecting us. He may be a smol angel, but his power rivals many of the high-ranking angels already. It explains why Michael has taken an interest in him, probably, but you’d think an angel like him would have been ranked already… unless Michael is deliberately refusing to rank him for some reason. Maybe he doesn’t want to train more archangels/soldiers given the three realms seem to be moving towards peace?

It does put Mammon mocking him by suggesting one day he could be a seraphim earlier in the season in a different light, though. Michael might be grooming him to be his heir, or something akin to that. It also explains why he didn’t worry about sending Luke into the Devildom in the first place, in spite of his youth. The kid could handle himself even if he isn’t aware of it.

Figure in the light

Lucifer and Simeon fear the same thing, but Lucifer handled facing whoever it was much better. I think this is probably daddy. The reason why Lucifer was capable of withstanding it is because he was preparing for his stand-off with their father for centuries before he finally rebelled, is my guess.

It could be Michael, but I expect Simeon interacts with him frequently, and he’s already made it pretty clear that he has a cavalier attitude about angering the guy in Season 2. Simeon could fear having to watch Michael and Lucifer fight again, though, if all three of them were close before the Great Celestial War. Can’t imagine that was a fun time for him.

But, if how the Celestial Realm as a whole functions is any indicator, all three of them probably fear Father the most. That fear kept them in line until it didn’t.

This also lends some credibility to the “empty throne” theory that posits Father has been absent for a prolonged period of time for some reason, if it is him.

This is the second time this season that Simeon has expressed these sort of doubts. I think someone is suffering from insecurities and regrets more and more these days, and it seems like associations with the Celestial Realm trigger them. I doubt he’s going to fall – like I’ve said before, he actually seems to enjoy partaking in the standard angel duties – but it is noteworthy. He might have a complicated relationship with Father, too.

The three-headed wolf

This is going to be the actual climax, which is kind of dumb considering it literally was introduced this lesson. Just dropped in there.

I don’t think Cerberus is a wolf, though? He looked more like a hound in his art. Looking up “three headed wolf” on Google gets you Cerberus, though.

Predictions

We’re going to deal with the wolf thing next lesson and then have a rushed season ending or end it on a cliffhanger. It’s going to make a mess of things and we’ll have to tame it, and/or a certain SOMEONE in the Celestial Realm will need to step in to keep collateral damage to a minimum. Still confident he’s showing up in some capacity.

HOPEFULLY we’ll finally get confirmation about the identity of the celestial light person that the bogeyman tried to emulate. But we don’t get that closure in this lesson.

Not sure if this is going exceed Season 1 or Season 2’s quality, though. The ring of light suddenly being introduced at least gave us more insight into Simeon’s character and the telepathic conversation with Michael. Suddenly introducing a new beastie to fight in the second to last lesson of the season seems way too heavy-handed, and I’m not sure it’s at all related to whatever Michael’s plot is.

I guess we’re saving the answer to that question for season 4?

[thiswasinevitableid]

Gift (Indruck)

A second fill for @crepuscularlives

16. we didn’t read the invitation that said this party was formal so we’re in our ugly christmas sweaters. SFW

Duck’s fully prepared for Aubrey, and maybe even Mama, to tease him for his Newton family christmas sweater. When he gets to the Lodge to find everyone dressed swanky, he thinks it’s some sort of elaborate prank. He decides to ask Barclay, since he tends to be less invested in pranks than the others. 

“Uhhh” Barclay points to a stray invite, “it said formal, see? We thought a change of pace would be fun.”

“Fuck. I just came straight from a family thing, didn’t think it’d matter.”

Barclay pats his shoulder with a warm smile, “Don’t worry about it, man, it’s not like anyone’s gonna toss you out for it.”

Duck grumbles something about not wanting to stick out as he turns, and spies an even uglier sweater across the room. It’s bright green and fire-engine red with, covered in old-school colored bulb christmas lights, blinking like fireflies. 

Somehow, it suits Indrid perfectly.

The Sylph waves when we spots Duck, coming over to join him by the drinks table. 

“Hello Duck, I’m glad this is the future where you’re here.” He ladles himself a mug from one of the two crockpots of eggnog. 

“Howdy, ‘Drid. Glad I ain’t the only one who went for the ugly sweater vibe.”

Indrid cocks his head, “This is the nicest thing I own.”

Duck groans, reaches up to hide behind a hat that isn’t there.

Indrids smile widens, “I’m joking. It was a, ah, what do always call it...ah yes, a goof.”

He laughs, relieved, “Jesus, you got me good.”

“It’s payback for the time you convinced me that squirrels were carnivorous.” 

Duck snickers at the memory of Indrid, in his moth form in the woods, eyeing the squirrels warily. 

He joins Aubrey, Thacker, and Dani by the fire, and Indrid wanders over to oin them, taking a seat next to Duck when the human scoots over to offer him it. Thacker talks about the library and the regrowing cities, and Indrid’s face turns wistful. Duck suspects only he can see it, Indrid’s glasses showing enough of his eyes from the side to make emotions clearer. 

(Indrid always sits across from people. The last few times they’ve met up, he sits next to Duck).

In spite of only some gentle ribbing about his clothes, he keeps picking at the sleeve of the sweater. It’s a little itchy, and he could have worn that nice green shirt with the pine tree tie that he likes. And every time he catches a glimpse of himself in a window, he’s back in space, watching an evil hivemind recreate it’s pattern on a mimic of his sister. 

“Is it bothering you a lot?” Indrid murmurs.

“N-no, uh, I, uh, just, fuck, it’s nothin,” He stops talking, flees Indrid’s red stare to refill his cider. He pauses to talk with Kirby and Ned, is looking around the room for a new spot to sit (and for Indrid), only for a tan hand to wave him into a hallway. 

“Here, try this.” Indrid ties a discarded gift ribbon around his wrist, and he’s no longer looking down at the wool sweater and jeans. He’s in a deep gray suit, with a green shirt and a silver tie. 

“Holy shit. Wait, do I look-”

“-different? No, I left your physical form intact. I can make disguises of different magnitudes. A simple clothing swap is easily done. And I, ah, I did not want you to spend a night with friends lost in frightening memories.”

Duck’s about to thank him when the words sink in. 

“There was a future where you told me. I, ah, you’ve mentioned what you saw at Reconciliation before, but not that detail.”

“Wasn’t scared so much as pissed.” Duck glances at his shoes, now well-shined loafers. 

“Understandable. And useful; the odds were not in your favor, believe me. But well-timed anger can change the course of fate. Just as choosing mercy--even when others urge for violence--can. Punching me also reset fate rather dramatically.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.”

Indrid’s smile is small, and stunningly fake, “It was for the best. I’m going to get some more nog. Would you like some?”

“Nah, still gotta finish this. But I do wanna try some of that salmon dip.”

“In true bear fashion.” Indrid’s smile turns genuine when Duck snorts and elbows him. 

They talk and mingle with their friends, Indrid making frequent returns to the nog bowl. Duck steps outside for air, comes back and spends a moment watching Indrid by the fire. Stern notices him, steps away from an animated conversation with a ghostly Boyd about art forgery to join him. 

“Quite the dapper costume change.”

“Thanks. ‘Drid did it for me.”

Stern follows Duck’s gaze, then casually sip his wine, “Have you told him yet?”

“Told, uh, told him what?”

“Duck, you spend more time with him than almost anyone else.”

“Half my friends live on another planet now.”

“And every time you look at him, your smile changes. His does too. According to Barclay, he talks about you like you’re the most fascinating thing on earth. Right, love?” He kisses Barclay’s cheek as the cook joins them.

“Yep.”

There’s a crash as Indrid loses his balance and knocks over a lamp, which Aubrey freezes mid-air.

“Shit, he’s hammered.” Barclay sounds surprised. 

“How much rum did you put in the nog?” Duck doesn’t remember the sip he had from Indrid’s cup tasting that strong. 

“I made two batches, one with booze and one without. Indrid was drinking the non-spiked one earlier. Wonder when he switched.”

“About the time Duck changed clothes.”

“...How did you not catch us durin the Pine Guard days again?”

Stern smiles, “Barclay can be very distracting when he wants to be. And none of you have ever asked exactly how much I worked out.”

He has a point. As does Barclay when he points out that Indrid should have someone take him home after the party.

When Duck offers him a ride, Indrid chirps excitedly, bonks his forehead on the roof of the car, and climbs in. By the time they get back to the ‘Bago, Duck knows he can’t just leave Indrid here.

“You’re staying?” Indrid bounces on the bed as Duck turns on the space heaters. 

“Just ‘til you sober up. I’ll stay out in the main cab so you can sleep.”

Indrid lets out a chirr that intensifies when Duck slips the ribbon from his wrist. It almost sounds perturbed. 

“I mean, uh, I can go if you really need me to.”

Indrid shakes his head, barely managing to get his shoes off before burrowing under to covers, “Please stay as long as you want.” 

Duck nods, excuses himself to use the bathroom, and comes back to Indrid chirp-snoring into the pillows. He’s such a cute, weird man. Duck will just sit down a second to make sure he doesn’t wake up and need something. 

The one small seat is taken up by a binder, which opens when Duck lifts it. Instead of the expected paper avalanche, he finds drawings, each in their own plastic slip. He flips through it as he settles in the chair. Interspersed with the drawings are papers labeled in one or two two words of Sylph, and Duck reverse engineers their likely meanings from the images that follow them. The section with all the plants and animals must be “nature,” the one with parties and state fairs “events.” There’s even a section that’s all elements of winter holidays; the Rockefeller tree with decorations that suggest the 1930s, a menorah in a window, candles on the table of a house that’s seen better days.  Towards the back is a section that has to be “friends.” There are one or two people who appear in images with Indrid. Including the kind that make Duck quickly turn the page. The further he gets in that section, the more familiar faces he sees; Barclay, Aubrey, Jake, Ned. 

He sees himself, returning from saving the world, battered but alive. 

“The odds were not good”

Tucked at the very back of the section, between the final empty pages and the binder, is a folded paper. Curious, Duck opens it. 

It’s him. With Indrid. They’re on Indrid’s tiny bed, kissing.

God that looks nice. 

Startled by his own thoughts, he tucks the picture back into the binder and sets the whole thing on the floor. Decides one of the paperbacks strewn on the floor is a better way to occupy himself then accidentally finding more personal images. 

--------------------------------------------

The world is ending, everything is ripping away into the sky, everything he’s fought for is gone. He failed. He didn’t want a destiny, and he’s failed the fucking thing anyway and it’s all gone and there’s no future for him now but to be torn into ash-

“Duck, Duck wake up” 

He jolts, whams his head into the wall of the very intact Winnebago at the edge of the still standing Monongahela while a very alive, now-sober Indrid leans over him. 

“Owfuck.”

“Oh, oh no, I’m sorry, you were very clearly having a nightmare and I figured you’d like it to stop.”

“Yeah” He rubs his head, “yeah I did. Thanks. Sorry if I woke you up.”

“Given that in many futures our positions were reversed, I don’t have a lot of room to complain about someone shouting in their sleep.” Indrid sits down on the floor next to the chair, stays silent as Duck coaxes his breathing to even out. A hand hesitates in the air, then touches his arm, rubbing it reassuringly. 

No one else saw it. Not even Minerva or Leo, the only people who could understand the horror of seeing a thing unfold with scant chances of stopping it. 

Indrid’s hand brush lightly over his own before returning to his arm. 

No, not the only people. 

“Indrid, can I ask you somethin?”

“Of course.”

“The day we let The Quell through and saved the worlds did you, uh, did you see what woulda happened if Aubrey hadn’t blown the gate apart?”

“Yes.” The reply is quiet.

“Do you, uh, still see it sometimes?”

“Now and then, but I have far more bad timelines in my mind, and more failures in my past, for my nightmares to draw upon than you do. That is half the reason I drank so much tonight. Around the time of the winter solstice, my nightmares increase in frequency and intensity, Sylvain only knows why. Sometimes substances dull that.”

“Oh, ‘Drid.” Duck turns in the chair. Indrid’s gaze stays straight ahead, but his fingers shred a nearby scrap of paper. 

“The irony is, I love this time of year on Earth, in spite of the chill. I love the winter holidays, the gathering of warmth and light to hold one over until the spring returns. But my enjoyment of it is dampened by the workings of my powers and mind.”

“Fuck, guess I oughta count myself lucky I only got a few bad visions to remember.” The joke falls flat, and Indrid glances at him. 

“That vision is nothing to laugh at. I’m glad you had it all the same, glad you triumphed and survived.”

“Woulda really sucked to accept my destiny only to fail at the last fuckin second.”

He shuts his mouth to stop the next thought from escaping; Indrid doesn’t need to know that he sometimes fears that everything he’s done and wants to do now that fate is no longer hanging a talking sword over his head will somehow be hollow.

“You were so much more than your destiny, Duck Newton. You still are.” 

The sincerity, half-obscured in shadow and red lens, is too much. He doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything at all. 

“Guess, uh, guess you likin the holidays explains that section in the binder.”

“Yes. Wait. Did, ah, did you look through the whole thing?” Fear slips into his voice. 

“Uhhuh.”

“Even the, ah, the last page?”

“Yep. Some real beautiful drawin’s in there. Some mighty interestin ones too.”

Indrid nervously taps his fingers together, “Since you are about to ask, that future took place shortly after the cottonwood. You, you came by to apologize for punching me and to tell me you were glad I was alright and, and ask me to stay in Kepler and when I asked why, you did that. Just one little kiss. That’s as far as I got before the timelines changed. It’s, it’s alright, of course, that’s how timelines work, and you did eventually apologize.”

He did, two or three separate times, and each time Indrid brushed it off, insisting it was what needed to be done.

Duck sinks to the floor, turns on his knees to bring them face to face. 

“What are you-” Indrid stiffens as Duck gingerly pushes up his glasses. He’s never seen Indrid’s face like this, uncovered but still human, and it takes all the air from his lungs.

“Which eye did I hit?”

Indrid touches the right side of his face. Duck tips forward, balancing his fingers on Indrids thighs, and kisses the corner of his right eye.

“There. Now it’s a real apology.” He whispers in Indrid’s ear, close enough that faint, hopeful chirps reach him. He moves a few inches down and over, lips the barest strip of air away from Indrid’s own. 

“You, you don’t have to. Just because something appears in a future doesn’t mean it’s fated to happen.”

“What if I want it to happen?”

Indrid surges forward, cupping Duck’s face. His kisses re feather-light and sweeter than nectar, and Duck wants to drink them down, knows that after this taste he’ll never be full. 

“Duck I, h, I want” Indrid clings to him, his words turning to chirps nd clicks, as he’s so overwhelmed by a little kissing.

“Want me to keep, uh, ‘apologizin?”

“So very much.”

“Then take me to bed, darlin.”

The instant they hit the bed Indrid pulls Duck atop him, fingers fawning over his body as he kisses him over and over. When they stop to catch their breath, Duck remembers something,

“‘Drid, what was the other half of the reason you got drunk?”

“A problem of my own making. I did not foresee just how you would look in your suit, and I was trying to avoid an, ah, embarrassing bodily response. Alcohol helps my kind of Sylph in that regard.”

Duck chuckles, nips Indrid’s lower lip, “want me to put it back on?”

“Not just yet.”

“Want me to kiss you ‘til we fall asleep?”

“More than I’ve wanted anything for Christmas in a long time.”

Duck kisses him, keeps teasing their lips together as he murmurs, “then consider me your resent, darlin.”

[ootori-sibs]

Kyoya's second shot

Episode ten: Tamaki makes a discovery!

Tw: self harm (mentioned and implied) starving (mentioned)

The next session was more peaceful, he didn't have to talk to any guests, he could just watch Tamaki, whilst stirring his coffee lazily. Tamaki's way of acting evil was incredibly satisfying to watch; he kept pressing gentle kisses to the prop skull, running his tongue against his perfect teeth, the way he purred his words towards the girls- playing up his natural accent to make the ladies swoon, he drew his words out, lounging about in lazy regality. Kyoya had no idea Tamaki could do that, it was incredible… nearly enough to make him drool if he was honest. He wanted nothing but to sit there under Tamaki and let him woo him like that… but that could never happen. Kyoya looked at the girls, the guests, laughing and giggling and watching Tamaki with wide eyes… and he was consumed by jealousy. How dare they, how dare they get to enjoy so much attention from Tamaki, whilst Kyoya has to sit there, just wishing. They're so horrid, so vapid, they're worse than Haruhi, they don't even deserve his hatred.

Oh. The coffee stirrer had shattered in his hand, he growled under his breath and pushed the cup away from him. He turned to his laptop for comfort, opening the finances, he's not doing anything, just toying with the graphs and such. He takes out his phone as well, opening the council group chat.

Shadow king: Seika, I need you to do something. Now.

Woman#2: Ooh, someone's pissy, what happened?

Shadow king: That is irrelevant, just do something.

Hurt her.

Woman#2: You want me to hurt her? How? Are you sure?

Shadow king: I don't care how. Just do it.

He put his phone back in his bag, hands shaking from the anger. He wanted to leave, he felt angry, he felt he was going to scream. He took his glasses off, rubbing his face and running his hands through his hair, deep breaths, he just has to take deep breaths.

"Senpai?" Haruhi's soft voice cut through his calming breaths, sparking the rage in him again, he looked at her, putting his glasses back on. She looked worried, a soft smile on her face, she had no idea how much she was hated, "are you alright?"

He tenses up, did he have the strength to lie? He felt like punching her in the face here and now, but he knew he couldn't do that. He was tapping his nails on the table, trying not to tell her to fuck off, his lack of ease was clear to her, as he gritted his teeth and forced a smile. "Of course I am, why wouldn't I be? I'm just sorting out the finances right now, did you need anything Haruhi?"

She paused, sensing the danger though being unable to see why, her smile turned to a frown, "I… no, I just wanted to check on you, I'll… go back to my table now." She took a few steps back before turning and heading back to her customers, she should have been focusing on them anyway. Kyoya felt a little worried about how she'd clearly noticed something, wondering if she realised how much he hated her.

He couldn't focus on anything, nothing at all, so instead he took out his notebook, beginning to doodle. It was a human, it had sharper features then a human; a pronounced nose, a tiny neck, very sharp shoulder blades- Haruhi was softer than that, was he drawing Haruhi? He fixed the shoulder, smudging the offending ink with his finger and rounding off the shoulders. He focused on her hair, it was similar to Tamaki's, but uglier, flatter, brown. Her expression was one of disdain, one Kyoya had never seen on her face before, she was disgusted, like he knew she would be when she realised what he'd been doing- if she realised, commoners were never smart. Was the school badge on the wrong side? He always struggled with mirroring, it was hard to remember. Her eyes were bleeding silver from his pencil, he would have grabbed a pen but he had no blue, he didn't want to touch his red, it was the only red pen he had- Haruhi didn't deserve it.

She was disgusting, selfish, she didn't deserve Tamaki, she was just some dumb commoner… commoner, commoner, he said that word a lot, but Yuuichi had said it was regular- just regular people, they were the minority in real life. It was a strange feeling, they all had so much power yet there were so much more commoners in the world, it was strange, it was… odd. His breaths shuddered as he wrote words, the same word, over and over and over and over again around his sketch.

Commoner.

She's a commoner, and he hates her.

The session ended after a while, and the tables were pushed together, guess Tamaki had ordered a meeting. The others had gone to get dressed, so Kyoya hesitantly followed. When he got to his corset, he really didn't want to leave it, besides, the others hardly ever do any inventory so it's not like they'd notice it missing. He toyed with the tightness for a little, before slipping his shirt and blazer over it, something sparking in his mind as he put his tie on. An idea that led him to pull said tie as tight as it could possibly go… then loosen it a little- a tie isn't as safe as a corset apparently.

He took his place at the table, opening his laptop and closing his book, "so, what's this meeting about then Tamaki?"

Tamaki paused, looking unsure for a moment, there was something about how he'd looked at Kyoya that made him suddenly very uneasy, "well, just about everything and anything, just thought I'd switch it up, cause I uh- I wanna do something on Friday!" He smiles, clearly having just made that up, "care to give us a finance report?"

Now that was something Kyoya could do, he nodded, opening the finances graphs and charts and tables. He took out a remote for the projector that sat in the ceiling, waiting until Tamaki got the whiteboard out for him, then he projected his screen onto it. "So," he actually smiled, he loved talking about numbers, "we're actually doing rather well, profits are up and I have to say welldone, all of you are contributing to the profits equally, although of course, Tamaki is still number one." He pulled up a chart depicting each hosts individual profits, complete with images; obviously he'd manipulated the graphs, the twins were actually doing better than Tamaki by 2% but the graphs only purpose was was to make Tamaki feel good, and to hide the fact that Kyoya himself literally avoided hosting at all costs. The hosts seemed to enjoy the graph, though Haruhi had frowned, to which Kyoya nodded, "unfortunately, Haruhi has been slacking recently, is there a reason for this?"

All eyes were on Haruhi, and Kyoya felt incredibly vindicated by this. She paused, blinking in surprise, "well I don't think I was falling behind, I could've sworn I did more hosting then you have senpai…" Her tone was a pondering one, but Kyoya felt the rage spark up again.

"Well there's no need to be so rude about it," Kyoya glanced around, hand on his heart, maybe it was time to take a risk, "you've been awfully spiteful towards me lately and I'm not sure why, is something the matter Haruhi?" He kept his tone soft and almost hurt sounding, hand pressed against his head as the other loosely held the remote for the projector, he did his best to paint Haruhi as the aggressor- he could tell Tamaki was still too hurt from her distance on Sunday to stand up for her, but he looked torn, not sure who to believe. The twins glanced at each other, then between Kyoya and Haruhi, they'd been privy to the discussion that morning and were likely still hesitant. Honey and Mori were the wild card, Mori was unreadable as always but Honey looked sympathetic to Kyoya, and Kyoya felt a little spark of victory.

Haruhi stared across the table at him, trying to read him and failing, Kyoya was not going to let his guard down. So she sighed, "I haven't been rude to you senpai, you've just been jumpy, I even asked if you were alright this afternoon, remember?" Oh god, she was being honest, he wasn't sure how to combat honesty, unless he could twist her words into what he wanted…

"Haruhi, I'll be perfectly honest here, you should probably stop neglecting your duties. As I said this afternoon, I was too busy to converse with you, and you had clients anyway so you should have been at your table instead of bothering me with questions about whether there's anything wrong with me." He paused, taking a breath and letting it sink in, he was taking a huge, huge risk here, and he hoped it would pay off. The twins seemed to at least somewhat agree that Haruhi should have been doing his job, Honey seemed concerned about what was said, Mori was still unreadable, and Tamaki… Tamaki looked almost angry, but at what, Kyoya wasn't sure.

Haruhi was startled, "I… I didn't mean it like-"

Kyoya shut her up with a wave of her hand, "that doesn't matter Haruhi, what matters is that you left your station, and should pay more attention to your duties, are we in agreement?" She nodded and he smiled, changing the slide, "but yes, profits are up, even if the recent theme cost quite a lot, namely in the diamonds for Tamaki's prop skull," he glances down at the king, seeing Tamaki's smile made him feel fuzzy inside, he's so glad these idiots don't think about things for more than three seconds.

But then Tamaki spoke, "oh, about today's theme, I made sure to put all the costumes on the hangers when you were all setting up the table… Do you remember where you put your corset, Kyoya?" Oh god, oh fuck, Kyoya instantly glanced away, hand going to his abdomen, feeling the bones of the corset through his shirt and blazer.

"Well I-..."

Hikaru snickered, holding in a laugh, "did you keep it on? Couldn't you get it off?"

Karou joined in at that, chuckling softly, "like when you took too long this morning? Were you actually just struggling?"

Kyoya felt his face go red, and was glad of the makeup, he frowned and glared over their shoulders, "that's… that's not why I-"

"So you did keep it on?" Honey spoke up, tilting his head, smiling, "but for a different reason?"

Tamaki sighed, "aww Kyoya, I offered you help you if you got stuck, there's no shame in it." The tone he used, it was one you'd use for a jumpy, frightened animal- he was offended but he couldn't say it didn't sooth him slightly. He also felt the idea of Tamaki helping him with the corset was certainly someone that made him feel fuzzy but he was too tired to protest too much. He just sighed.

The meeting was cut short a little, Kyoya wasn't entirely sure what happened, he remembers the twins did a talk about the costumes they have for the themes lined up, and Honey gave feedback on the cakes he had ordered… but Kyoya was a little fuzzy through the whole thing, maybe the corset and the combo was a little too much. He could glance back down at his notebook to clarify that he was taking notes, though it was a larger font.

16:26 - Clothes look good, cake was dry...

It trailed off, and Kyoya's face feels hot, he's dizzy, and feels like he's so close to passing out. He closed his eyes and felt cold fingers against his skin, opening his eyes he saw Tamaki carefully untying the ribbons of his corset for him, his eyes were full of concern, "Kyoya… this is way too tight… how could you breathe?"

"Hm… couldn't…" Kyoya's words were slurring, god, he really was about to pass out.

Tamaki's eyes flickered up to Kyoya's face, noticing how clouded his eyes are and sighing, "oh no…" he reaches up, loosening Kyoya's tie for hum, their faces were so close, and Kyoya wondered if Tamaki could feel the heat from his face, "you tied your tie too tight too… please don't tell me it was on purpose…" he looked at Kyoya with those big doe eyes that Kyoya can't resist, and something in Kyoya just breaks. He's crying now.

Shocked, Tamaki pulls him into an embrace, just letting him cry, "oh… oh Kyoya… why? Why would you do that to yourself? Does this mean you lied about the reason for your starving too? Is this why you've been so antsy?" Kyoya didn't answer, he was sobbing now, the floodgates were open, there was no moving until he was done. Tamaki let him for now, a lot of things probably making sense in Tamaki's mind, he shifted so Kyoya and he were both more comfortable. The curtains parted slightly and Kyoya couldn't see who it was but Tamaki snapped, "hey! Don't look! Let him have privacy, just go home." Kyoya appreciated Tamaki caring so much for his privacy but felt a little bad at intruding on his.

Tamaki cradled him softly, rocking back and forth as Kyoya sobbed in his arms, Kyoya felt awful, absolutely horrible, he had been hurting himself, he had and that was awful, he had upset Tamaki, he upset his darling best friend and crush by letting him find out about the self harm. He was a horrible friend, he should have hidden it better, god he was terrible…

"Kyoya," Tamaki hummed Kyoya's name, pushing back slightly to look Kyoya in the eyes, wiping his teeths gently, "you know you can talk to me about anything right? You're my best friend and I love you, you're very important to me and I don't want to see you so hurt. Take care of yourself, I know it's probably hard, but just try your best, ok?" He smiled softly at him, his hand on Kyoya's cheek, Kyoya's own hand came up and touched Tamaki's, his eyes were wide and he couldn't help but smile. Tamaki's so wonderful, so brilliant, Kyoya loved him with every inch of his being, Kyoya simply adored him. "Promise me I won't ever see you so hurt again?"

Kyoya just nodded, he would hide it better next time, he wouldn't let Tamaki see even the idea of Kyoya being hurt, he hated himself for how he'd upset Tamaki- he wouldn't let it happen again. Tamaki had smiled and stood up, helping Kyoya up before fully undoing the corset, letting it fall to the floor. Kyoya felt a shiver run down his spine and Tamaki gasped, "oh you must be so cold! Here, let me help you with your shirt!" He bent down and buttoned Kyoya's shirt back up, humming a sweet little melody, one that made Kyoya's heart soar like a bird. He stood and put a gentle hand on Kyoya's shoulder, "I'll see you tomorrow mon ami, take care of yourself."

Kyoya was silent on the way home, his bodyguards couldn't get a word out of him, his fingers drummed on the cover of his black book, he wanted to write, but he didn't want to have to get his pen out of his bag. They got home eventually and Kyoya stormed up the driveway and into the mansion, he practically ran upstairs, slamming the door to his room the moment he entered it. He threw his bag at the table, before following it and kneeling down, placing his book down and opening it.

17:56 - Tamaki realised why I had the corset so tight, he helped me take it off, his hands are so soft. He knows about the self harm, I promised I wouldn't let him see it again but it's too late: he knows, he knows, he knows, he knows…

[6of575-oldblog]

happy end - excerpt

++

This elf, sin’dorei by the look of ruddy skin and forest green eyes, is an older elf. Like him. There’s a weariness here. It’s in the flat stare that sizes him up, and the introductions that come without a customary bow. Niceties get waved aside with a rusty voice and a gleaming metal hand.

“I’m Ven’ari Daybreak,” this elf states in cultured Common that’s at odds with the informal treatment. “You’re Senumeros Quicksand. I already know, so let’s move on. Oh, and--do me a favour? Skip the teacher-student claptrap. The day I let someone call me “honoured master” to my face is the day I die. ”

Meros clicks his teeth, points clattering together to bite off scripts he’s learned in meeting others. He’s grateful for less to talk aloud with, but at a loss for its lack.

Ears held loose and low with uncertainty, Meros trails behind at Daybreak’s back. Night elves are usually taller than their exiled “cousins.” Daybreak is no exception: Meros might be a little short for the standard male night elf, but he still has several inches of leg on this blood elf. He has to mind his pace or trod on unfortunate heels.

Besides, what Daybreak loses in height is gained in bulk. The bare, broad back and squared shoulders Meros stares down at are just further reminders of old inadequacies he still sees with his own lanky body.

One of his other adopted brothers joked with him once that at least his heathen god Elune saw fit to edge him in hard lines and gave him an ugly face to match his uglier voice. They’d had a good laugh about it, a troll and an elf, both making light of raw truths.

And it is true:

His lost years took their toll. Ate him away. Gentler curves that She graced him with were the first to go and sure he counts his blessings--but still. Still. He’s put on a lot of muscle he’s proud of in the long years since the eldest of three trolls found him amid desolate ruins but it’s none of it the blocky hips or the wide back of the elf he walks with.

Meros is always going to be too narrow-shouldered and long-limbed. Too small in body. Too... Meros.

Daybreak leads them to a rope-and-plank bridge. It spans a vast ravine and a part of the temple Meros has yet to visit. He’s a bit charmed that Daybreak pointedly marches across the swaying walkway with chin lifted and eyes pointed straight forward.

More so when he hears, “I’ve mastered many things--but fear of heights is still a daily walk.”

He grins his laughter at Daybreak instead of give it out: a close-mouthed grimace of all his teeth and his eyes squinted almost shut.

Daybreak looks at him from the side for it. Says nothing at first.

Meros isn’t so good anymore at knowing the correct expressions from others. He can’t name whether he’s offended his substitute teacher or not, but the weathered face that he carefully watches for clues of doesn’t smile back at him, and those pink ears, reddened even more for the brisk chill, are set forward and held stiffly high.

When they reach the security of the other side and Daybreak has feet planted to firm stone again, Meros shyly offers a mangled apology in quiet Thalassian. He means it--even if he can’t say his rhotics right ever again.

The new look this earns from Daybreak is a lingering one, though the distant expression and neutral cant of ears remains. Meros thinks maybe it’s sort of searching. Or confused. He wouldn’t blame Daybreak for confusion. He knows exactly how he sounds, and it’s not just his accent in Thalassian that’s atrocious.

“Lianji mentioned this,” is said to him at length, and not unkindly.

His heart stutters in his chest, torn between anxious shame--and shameless gratitude.

“I’m not going to ask.”

Meros blinks slowly, his head canting sideways enough to be noticeable. It dredges out a laugh from Daybreak at last. Rusty as the blood elf’s voice. Twice as soft.

“I don’t care about what happened, here--” Daybreak reaches up and taps Meros on dull grey lips with metal fingers made too cold to be pleasant. Then promptly pantomimes throwing something aside. “--Or there, yesterday. I’m sure that’s rude of me, and I’m sure both things came from justly, tragic places.”

Daybreak stares off briefly into middle space. Starts to massage fingers into where grafted metal joins flesh. Finally says, more lowly, “We elves are good at that, aren’t we?”

Meros thinks of another elf with a false limb like this. Skin so deep red it makes Daybreak’s look white. An elf so small and so young and so full of spite, as much as with hope.

Meros airs out his grimace some more, masquerades it as another smile so it strains his hawkish face with his efforts.

“Yeah,” Daybreak agrees with a squint upward. “Sure as the sun, we are.”

Then with a roll of his strong shoulders in a careless shrug, Daybreak adds:

“Elves endure. We keep going. Like you and I should be. This way.”

Falling back into step slightly behind and to the side, Meros mulls over Daybreak’s comments while they take winding stairs down and down and down further. These fan out and circle at their end into a modest courtyard, penned in by a trickling moat and graced with a well-tended shrine.

He doesn’t really quite know what to think or feel about Daybreak’s easy dismissal or the deliberate omission. Others have been eager to draw out all the details; their appropriate noises of sympathy are always paid like some kind of ticket bought to a goblin’s sideshow. A part of it, Meros is sure, is morbid fascination. The need to share an othered experience for a few moments without the horror of actually living it all the time.

He decides it’s a relief: to not have to struggle through vocal explanations for once. For his handicap to simply be expected, adapted around, and moved on from to other things more pertinent and pressing.

It’s a little like being home with his partner. Abruptly, Meros has got another kind of smile slipping onto his face. It must be a particularly stupid and mooning one for how Daybreak eyes him even longer after they both stop at the centre of the stone shrine.

Feigning study of elegant coils chiseled out in the Jade Serpent’s image, Meros tries to school his face into something at least marginally less lovesick.

“That’s the closest thing to serenity,” Daybreak says next to him, “I’ve seen on you since you came here.”

It’s Meros’ turn now to look aside. He raises both bushy brows until the feathery tips quiver at bowed ends with their weight. He tries hard to make his unspoken question plain enough. He also tries just as hard not to give into the full-body blush threatening to heat him up from inside out at the thought of being observed so closely enough or for long enough that such words apply.

His effort works. He thinks. He isn’t laughed at and Daybreak takes half a step into Meros’ space. Close enough to jab a finger at him, just under his hooked nose.

“Whatever’s got you making that ridiculous dopey face--you should use it.”

He considers this even while reflexively leaning his head away for breathing room where Daybreak isn’t yielding it.

In faint puzzlement, Meros says, “My... fah-moh-ee?” like it’s half an answer, half a question. He watches the moment of struggle as Daybreak’s mouth moves to repeat what’s been awkwardly given. Meros is painfully familiar with this soundless shaping of the limited syllables he can actually voice and the old, disgusted shame threatens to creep back in.

Finally: “If that’s it.”

Which is vague enough it doesn’t tell Meros if Daybreak knows what was said or if pride just won’t allow admission.

Either way, the point’s been made. Daybreak withdraws, that finger kept levied in his direction with an unerring aim.

“Focus on what helps. The pandaren’ll all tell you meditation’s about clearing your thoughts. It is, and--it isn’t. They like to use breathing as their focus--didn’t work too well for you, did it?”

Ah. There it is. He can’t hold back the body blush or the shame now. Face burning in spite of the cold, Meros tucks his ears and tips his chin down until the puffy green bangs curling thickly at his forehead slide low to hide his eyes from view. The bound tails at either side of high cheekbones slip across his collarbone and dangle weighted before his chest.

“You’re not alone.”

He peeks through his hair at Daybreak. The blush gets worse just like he feared. It’s a dry awful heat spreading down his tattooed neck and up along his long, heavy ears.

Rather than clarify, Daybreak’s index finger slides to one side of Meros and draws his gaze with it. Ears rising some to swivel that way, Meros stares back up the winding steps and thinks of the ease in walking the path down to here.

“There’s a multitude of methods, Quicksand. You just have to find yours.”

Teeth clicking and lips thinning out, Meros counters dubiously with, “Whah if I cah-ah eveh fie ih?”

“If you can’t--? Oh. Tch.”

Silver-coin eyes tilt around to Daybreak, though Meros keeps his face angled to the steps.

“With that attitude, sure. Be hard to find, then.”

Reflexively, Meros shows his teeth again, and this time--Daybreak smiles, too. It’s reserved and small and done mostly with the eyes. Daybreak’s closed smile is comforting to Meros because it’s familiar. He almost asks:

Were you a soldier, once? Because it reminds him strongly of another just as reserved who smiled only with their eyes. Who always spoke kindly and encouraged him, too.

He doesn’t ask. He’s aware he’s desperate to chase away his loneliness in this remote peak surrounded by strangers.

But still.

He flicks the lighter greyed tips of his fingers from in front of his mouth on outward. As he tilts his left hand so that it fluidly presents from sign to outstretched palm held out and waiting, he forces out:

“Fhake Ou.”

“Sure,” Daybreak takes his hand and clasps Meros by his forearm with the other. “Let’s begin, yeah?”

The moment that he’s let go Meros bobs his chin--and his fist. He’s eager agreement in a wider flash of all his filed teeth with ears forward and quivering in anticipation.

“Yes.”

The smile Daybreak shares is kind and the blood elf’s not so terrible company either.

So maybe this teacher will like him.

[thunderheadfred]

Paradox Preview (wip!)

The next chapter of A Pretty Taste For Paradox is far from complete - as in, the entire first half isn’t written yet - but I wanted to share something, anything, because I’ve been fine-tuning this closing sequence for months. No guarantee of quality, just saying I’ve been exceptionally nit-picky and self-critical about this one for some reason.

(Horizon)

Shepard tries to meet Garrus behind one of the trucks, but staggers before she can reach him. Biotics on the fritz. Her barrier explodes, taking her amp along with it. Purple fireworks crackle through her eardrums, leaving her stunned, too dizzy to run straight.

The praetorian turns, beam flickering. It’s running out of juice. They’ve nearly cracked it, but even at half strength it’s still a shivering hoard of limbs. A million mandibles slavering above her head, hungry to grind her body to pulp.

Charge, she thinks. Now.

Legs shaking, head full of smoke. Her amp objects, fizzling at the bottom of her skull. Her right knee buckles.

On her last reserves, she dives behind the nearest cover. A naked crate is too fragile to hold for long, but her legs won’t move. She’s pushed too hard, too fast. No time to learn the limits of this remade body, and Ash’s spite has made her foolish.

The enhancements, the powers, the dogs of the underworld at her back. All had granted Shepard a sloppy notion of invulnerability, but mortality has reasserted itself with vengeance. Sure as shit, she’s still killable.

On her six, Garrus slings a flashy overload while clattering across a mountain of shipping crates, trying to draw the praetorian’s gaze. On her nine, Solus peeks around his own cover and judges Shepard’s position. Wheels turning, trigonometry in his eyes, he calculates. She sees her odds reflected in a twitch of wet nictitating membrane: they’re not good.

The praetorian’s energy beam reactivates, carving an unbroken line through the ground. The impact tremor blows Shepard’s cover to smithereens and knocks her flat. A furious shuffling blow to the organs, painting her vision hot pink. She can’t see.

Garrus swears, gunfire drowning the comm. In the thick of it, Mordin yells Shepard’s name. Her only warning.

Agony cuts across her thigh. Slicing muscle from bone. Bursting arteries. Sawing through nerves. The beam outlines her pelvis, but stutters and fails before it can reach anything vital.

Her vision clears. She blinks at the praetorian. It shivers, temporarily spent, then starts paying closer attention to Garrus.

OVER HERE ASSHOLE

Garrus. Screaming like hell, shooting through clip after clip.

Coming for you, Shepard

Mordin. Throwing ordnance as he runs, great eddies of flame that slam into the praetorian’s hull.  

In a storm of rippling heat and gunfire, shimmering like some terrible mirage, the monster finally wilts and evaporates. A glowing carcass that floats away on a swift breeze. Dust.

Only sky looming now. Nothing to fear. Overhead, the welcoming infinity of miracle-blue. Homey, the place she came from.

Shepard can’t focus. As if from a great distance, she watches Professor Solus dragging a mangled body into his lap.

A slap to the face shakes her down from a perch in the breeze. Slowly, she brings the picture into focus.

Armor is melting on her skin with a smell like a human foundry. Bonding her to the earth, to the doctor, welding her firmly to this world. What’s left of her suit makes too many noises, cautioning with bells and whistles that she’ll be dead in minutes.

Mordin’s voice runs alongside, disagreeing. His words trill sweet and high, ringing with the coloratura of panic.

Eyes on me, Shepard. Aha! Sleeping on the job…

A sigh of profound disappointment.

Lazy.

Another slap, violent and innervating. Thrown back into her body, Shepard pays attention.

Somehow, like always, the pain gets worse and she stays alive. She bleeds, gushing. Impressive height. Cerberus showing off again. Her left leg dangles from her hip on a wet thread. She sees white, the cross-section of her femur, the gory engineering of arteries laid bare. An artistic, labyrinthine weave: the crosshatch of not-quite-indestructible muscles and bones and so much blood.

She observes only, has no control. Her right hand waves drunkenly and wanders into the Professor’s way. Without pausing his work, he grabs her fingers and puts them on his shoulder, sidelining her tremors. A practiced move. He’s been here before, resuscitating lost causes.

Her hand clutches his shoulder, his neck, her safety rail in a decompressing airlock. One of his creased old tendons twitches beneath her thumb, throat long and pale, skin stamped with red fingerprints as carefree as polkadots.

The Professor bites open a sterile bag of supplies. His hands are already busy, covered in blood and holding something in place. Something of hers.

Vakarian! Acute hemophobia - not helping!

– I don’t –

Need reminder? Rocket to face uglier than this! Commander stayed wide awake, held shattered carapace together. Rare opportunity to return favor. More pressure!

Mordin babbles around the plastic between his teeth. Perfect lucidity, administering emergency coagulant and an impressive lecture about integrity all at the same time. Pattering on and on and on, never breaking eye contact with Shepard.

Something something femoral artery something something eyes on me…

The red fountain begins to lose height and enthusiasm, and Shepard feels lighter.

With everything spinning, her eyelids sag, her head falls into the slim bend of his arm. Soft colors whisper in the sunbeams overhead, dust and light reminding her: she’s been borrowing time since day one.

Come home, the sky suggests, blue and safe. Come home.

– shuttle ETA ninety seconds –

Not fast enough! Strip torso plating!

– I’m going as fast as I can Mordin she’s flatlining–

Chest clear. Administering cardiac stimpack. Direct adrenaline burst in 3 - 2 - 1

A clean blast of air, detonating her from the inside out, minty and mentholated. Vitalizing needles prop her open. A sting of relief that keeps her soul from squeezing out, away.

Breath flavored with medicinal vapors, a face blocking out the sun.

Her reignited heart fills as he nears. Singing.

“Welcome back, Shepard.”