#So here's this with a whole rundown on a few different things concerning them)

[soulsxng]

Sort of a continuation of these two worldbuilding posts from a little while ago:

One thing I didn't go into very much on either of them, was that there's one sort of subsection to the first type-- the "bound" gods, so to speak. As such, this subset of deities is effected by the same symptoms as those gods that are tied specifically to one realm.

These are the ascended deities.

Ascended deities are those who were not born as a god. Though they can be born as any species really, there are a few that are given the opportunity more often than others. Examples of this being kistune, Sumydans, and some types of elementals, to name a few!

Anyway, these gods became what they are today by passing a series of trials, and ultimately gaining something called a God Seal from it.

The trials differ depending on the individual, their species, and the kind of god they intend to become, but many of them involve proving their strength, wisdom/cunning, resilience, character, etc. They also usually require the individual to decide what their purpose will be as a god, and-- in order to form their God Seal-- choose some part of themselves to give up.

Darrow, for example, gave up his ability to change shape-- something that is fairly iconic for a kitsune and Inari-- and allowed that to make up the form of his God Seal. Unless he decides to let go of being a god, or the power is temporarily granted to him by another being, he'll never be able to use it again.

Now for the God Seal itself. What it looks like depends on the individual, but it is almost always kept on the deity that owns it, or hidden somewhere that they frequent. If this seal is stolen, not only does it give the holder of the seal power over the god it belongs to, but if it's kept far enough away from said god for long enough, it'll disperse. Thus causing the god to return to what they were before becoming a deity.

The time and distance is determined by what the deity gave up to form the God Seal in the first place. Again, using Darrow as an example, he can be within about 1500 miles of his God Seal and not have the time limit come into play. If he's outside of that 1500 miles, he would have about 5 days to retrieve his seal before he lost his powers and returned to being a kitsune.

If the God Seal was destroyed, it would almost always result in the deity that owns it dying. There's a small chance that it may leave them severely wounded, and likely disabled to some degree instead, though that's pretty unlikely. In this case, they would lose their powers and godhood, as well as whatever they used to create the seal in the first place. They would never be able to ascend again after that, either.

Moving on to tying themselves to a realm. With ascended deities, there's a bit more of a competitive aspect to things. After all, sometimes a being becomes a god, and there's already another overseeing the same/similar domain in the realm/area they're from. And a lot of gods really don't care to share their space or followers with others more than they have to.

Because of this, ascended gods will sometimes invade the realms and territories of other ascended. Usually a challenge is issued before any actual fighting (or whatever else) begins, but not always. Either way, the goal is always the same-- to obtain the opposing deity's God Seal.

There was a time that these challenges were extremely cutthroat, and a lot of the stolen seals would never be returned. Or worse, would be destroyed. Now, however, there's more of a system in place that prevents a lot of unnecessary cruelty and bloodshed. If ever there's an ascended god that becomes known for destroying, or not returning seals after a challenge, they're usually quickly targeted or closely watched by the other ascended gods.

When an ascended god is kicked out of their domain, they have the slightly longer amount of time to find a new one than they would have to retrieve or get within range of their God Seal. Without a ream, the seal means little to nothing, essentially.

[knight-a3]

Hazbin Sketchbook Tour part 3

Masterpost

I started some preliminary sketches of Charlie to get a feel for her. I wasn't exactly happy with them. I did like how Alastor turned out in the dancing one, just...not the rest of it.

Before going back to Charlie, I had a couple ideas for a Vaggie redesign I wanted to sketch out. She'll go through a few minor tweaks over time, but overall not bad for a first pass. (There's also a stray Emily)

This is when I started seriously redesigning everyone. I would search up other people's redesigns for inspiration, then move on from there.

More design notes under the cut, and a couple fun Bible facts!

Vaggie: First, I doubled down on the moth theming. I wanted it to be more obvious than it is in canon. It also serves to show that Hell is corrupted, and it makes everyone more inhuman. All the angels will look more human, because "Biblically accurate angels" is not actually all that accurate. After she Falls, she becomes more moth-like, and is not truly an angel anymore.

[I've got this whole idea concerning the blood colors of the various groups. Maybe I should make a dedicated post to explain, but here's the rundown: There are three main groups: Hellborn, Earthborn, and Heavenborn. Hellborn have black blood, and Heavenborn have a glowing white. Earthborn have 3 subgroups: Living, Sinner, and Saint(aka winner). While alive, Earthborn have red. After death, the color depends on if they Fall or Ascend. Fallen Earthborn become Sinners and the blood darkens to purple. Ascended Earthborn become Saints and it lightens into golden yellow. When a Saint Falls, it darkens to purple. When a Heavenborn falls, it darkens to orange. Ascended Sinners will gradually lighten to yellow(albeit it won't ever be quite as bright as the other Saints). Hellborn cannot Ascend.]

All that to say that Vaggie does not have pure angel blood anymore. And I'm trying to decide if the Exorcists are Heavenborn or Earthborn. I'm honestly favoring Earthborn right now, since that's what Adam qualifies as.

Even when she gets her wings back, Vaggie's form is still corrupted and they come back as moth wings, to fit her theming. I wanted to get her long hair out of the way of her wings, and figured that since her hair is sorta moth themed anyway, why not make them the same thing. It works cuz...magic. I also really do not like the floating X over her eye, so I made it a broken eye spot instead.

Charlie: I knew I wanted more goat themes. So the ears were an obvious place to start. I also made her ponytail to look like a goat tail. But I saw a few designs that gave her snake hair and I thought it was great. But I didn't want to draw so many and decided to just give her one. Then named him Hugh. Short for Hubris aka Pride. I designed the Morningstar family around the goat and snake themes, where Charlie gets the goat traits from Lucifer, and the Snake traits from Lilith.

Lucifer: Canon Lucifer has way too many different design motifs. The Biblical Devil is associated with snakes and goats, so I wanted to narrow down on those rather than the forbidden fruit(which is never confirmed to be an actual apple, by the way) or ducks. He can still likes duck, but it doesn't go further than that. Since canon Lucifer is not exactly evil like the Biblical version, I decided it would be thematically appropriate to have his Fall turn him into a scapegoat, of sorts. Which would also mean that Lucifer is not the True Devil. The real Evil is the darkness trapped in the abyss(should I call it Abyss?). Lucifer, as a Fallen Angel, actually created Hell to prevent souls from getting lost in the abyss. So as bad as Hell is, it's actually a relatively good thing. Oh, and he lost his wings during his Fall. (Fun facts: the Devil isn't actually called Lucifer in the Bible, that was a translation quirk basically referring to the fall of the Babylonian king. Similarly, the number 666 probably refers to Roman Emperor Nero)

Lilith: Because I committed to Lucifer as a goat, but still wanted to implement the snake theme, I gave it to Lilith. I wanted to give her snake hair, but also maintain the flow of her long hair. So I decided to give her 7 snakes, each to represent one of the deadly sins. The top one represents pride. They're all named, like Charlie's.

Pride=Vani(Vanity), Greed=Ava(Avarice), Lust=Libby(Libido), Envy=Desi(Desire), Gluttony=Tony(Gluttony), Wrath=Irene(Ire), and Sloth=Sloth(...)

Overall, I haven't fully decided what I want to do with Lilith. It would probably help if we had more canon info on her. Is she secretly an antagonist? Or is there something else going on? Regardless, I enjoyed designing her.

I had this whole tangent about the mythological origins of Lilith, and how she's not actually a biblical character at all. It got too long winded so I cut it. But basically, liliths were a type of demon in Middle East/Mesopotamian cultures. Then a satirical Jewish story written in the medieval era made Lilith Adam's first wife, then she ran off with the Great Demon and started having 100 demon babies a day. She had to promise three angels that she wouldn't hurt any human newborns if they had a special amulet. She was associated with seduction and child-killing. She wasn't a feminist figure until the 1970s. She was just evil before that. Read HERE if you want more info about it.

[secondbeatsongs]

mister(?) sbs, will you please tell us about "diagnosis: encounter with a squirrel" off the lies poll?

so, my dad has a vendetta against the neighborhood squirrels.

sorry, this is a long one, and I couldn't think of a better place to put the readmore than right here at the start of it, so here we are!

buckle up

so my dad hates the squirrels because they cause property damage and steal the nuts off our pecan tree, and for him it's become personal, so he's waging an all-out squirrel war. he sets traps, he shoots them, and he celebrates each kill as if it's a personal victory.

(I mean hey, I don't like it, but it gives him something to do.)

but the thing is, after my dad kills these squirrels, he just disposes of them. and I think that's a waste, so...I learned how to skin them. to keep their pelts.

that's the backstory here. that's a fun thing you now know about me!

anyway, this has been going pretty well - I now have a pile of squirrel pelts under the porch, waiting for warm weather and free time so I can tan them. and I'm really careful about all of this - I wear gloves, I clean my tools well, and I never run into any problems

or at least I hadn't run into any problems until last November, when one of my nitrile gloves got a hole in it without me noticing, and I got squirrel blood all over my hand.

...a hand where I happened to have an open wound.

yeah. so. I called the local hospital and vaguely explained what happened, and asked, "uh, hey! is this something I need a rabies shot for?"

"uhh," the nurse said helpfully, "we can't give medical advice over the phone. but if you're concerned, feel free to visit the emergency room!"

and. I mean. I wasn't not concerned about it! rabies is like, a death sentence for sure, so??

so I went to the emergency room, and explained what happened to a different nurse, got stared at and told to wait, and after about 45 minutes of killing time (and listening to a man and a woman in the waiting room debate the concept of free will, argue about god, and plan an intervention for their gambling-addicted brother), I got brought back into an exam room

the doctor basically looked at my chart and asked me to explain myself, so I gave her the rundown of "cut open a squirrel, glove broke, got squirrel blood on an open wound, what do I do about that?"

she seemed more confused by this situation than anything else, but she looked up a few things, and then told me that if it had been any other mammal she would have recommended a rabies shot, but that in this area, squirrels are not a rabies risk! and so I didn't have anything to worry about

which, cool! glad to not have rabies!

anyway she disappeared for a bit to finish paperwork and stuff so I could leave, and a few other nurses wandered over and asked me the polite version of, "hey, what the fuck?" so I explained the whole thing all over again, and fielded questions like, "how…exactly…did this happen?" and "is this like...a taxidermy thing?", and "😭 but...why? I love squirrels!" until the doctor returned, told me I could leave, and then cheerfully said, "there you go! your medical record now says, 'diagnosis: encounter with squirrel'! have a nice day!"

it was definitely one of the experiences I've ever had.

but the day after that was pretty fun too, because that's when I got a phone call from the health department!

the person on the line was a nice lady with a strong, gruff southern accent, and she said, "we're required to follow up on all potential rabies risks, and I hear you had uh…a…squirrel encounter?"

jfc.

so I went over it all again with her, explaining how it happened.

times I have now had to explain the squirrel thing: 5

after I got done my sordid tale, she repeated what the doctor said about squirrels not being a rabies risk, and then tacked onto the end, "unless...before it was killed, was the squirrel acting...nutty?"

I am in love with health department lady. we will have a spring wedding.

me: "nah, the squirrel seemed normal."

her: "okay."

her: "do you uh…skin squirrels often? I mean, I can't judge."

me: "no, please do. I encourage it. this is getting ridiculous."

her: "well, still. one of my coworkers - the one I inherited this job from - he left me a taxidermied rat!" :D

me: "oh! that's cool!"

her: "it is!"

…

me: "…anyway"

her: "yeah, have a nice afternoon!"

so, that's the story of how I got squirrel blood on an open wound, got stared at by a bunch of healthcare professionals, and (probably) became a story that people tell to their friends when they need an example of a truly odd person.

the end!

oh, and the moral of this story btw (if you care to know) is that before rushing off to the ER to see if you need a rabies shot, the correct course of action is to call the health department! because they're the ones who have the data to tell you whether or not your health is at risk from getting bled on by a dead squirrel.

(at least, that's what the nice health department lady said. I hope she's doing well! I think of her often)

[thumpypuppy]

how do you usually come up with melodies n stuff? also what program did you use to make the isat soundtrack? :-)

Oh my gosh our first ask!

I (Lindar) have a few different ways I do it.

The title theme was originally written on a Teenage Engineering Pocket Operator PO-28. Just a stroke of inspiration, I guess? Sometimes it helps to sit down with an instrument and see what works, and different instruments lend themselves to different ways of thinking about music and melody, so I try to switch it up a lot.

Another way I tend to do it is to find an interesting chord progression and then let the melody emerge from that pattern, which can be a little frustrating sometimes, but has yielded some interesting results. Honestly I've been writing music for over two decades, and the process can be a bit arcane at times having amassed a whole host of different techniques over the years, but the years of experience is not required to make something good and catchy. At the end of the day I think my favorite way to test the viability of a piece of music as game audio is to play it for someone and then see if they start humming it to themself some time later. Hummable music means it's catchy, and that's what you're after, isn't it?

As for working with my other musicians, here are some things I've observed:

Alice is very methodical in her approach. She sits down at her DX7 with her headphones on and will try things and then iterate upon them until she is satisfied, and then will write everything in a sheet music notation software and send me a midi file when she's done. She's a classically trained violinist, comes from a family of jazz musicians, and is a big fan of progressive rock, so a lot of that influences the way she approaches music.

Sadie is also a jazz musician and former orchestra performer, she went to school for it, and honestly it can be incredible to watch her work, because she will simply pick up any instrument and immediately improvise something catchy. She's had several bands, she's been composing for years, and it can be magical watching her work. (She is currently in a band called Dirty Twenties, and you can find her solo work as "Sadie Greyduck" on most streaming platforms.)

Sandra… well Sandra likes punk rock and metal. She has done some of her own work, and we definitely have a similar approach to writing music, but she can be very scattershot in her approach. Primarily she does percussion for the studio, but her constant leaning over my shoulder definitely influences things, and she's the voice of reason when I have the tendency to over-compose.

As far as software is concerned, the studio runs Ableton Live with a host of VSTs that craft the sound we have, and a handful of live instruments as well. Some of the more notable things you've heard in "In Stars and Time" have been Native Instruments MASSIVE, Spitfire Audio Albion ONE, Toontrack Superior Drummer 2 (with the Metal Foundry pack), and our Ibanez 8-string guitar. If you're interested in all of the gear and plugins we have I'd be happy to do a separate post with a rundown of everything.

Thank you so much for sending us our first ask! I hope that answers your question! 😅👍💙

[sociomi]

How to Download YouTube Videos

To keep this from turning into a clothing rundown of projects and destinations that can download YouTube videos, we thought of a couple of rules for incorporation. Administrations must:

Work with the main three video locales: YouTube, Facebook, and Vimeo.

Download whole playlists or directs in a cluster (on YouTube), basically with a paid form.

Result to MP3 for sound (or deal sidekick software that does as such).

Have an interface that doesn't suck.

Not gather your own information past your email address.

Not contain malware. Even in the event that there's only a whiff of it, even a Little guy, it's out.

The projects, administrations, and destinations in this story are liberated from spam and infection issues as of this composition, however proviso emptor — let the purchaser be careful. (Particularly in the event that you're not actually purchasing.)

Presently accessible for endorsers of YouTube Premium — the paid variant of YouTube that permits you to watch without advertisements — are video downloads — sort of. There's one constraint with quality: Everything the video you download is restricted to 1080p quality max or lower. No 4K. Check out likee downloader.

The greatest issue is, this feature doesn't actually download a video to save money on your PC until the end of time. It is more similar to the download feature found on versatile applications for Netflix and Hulu, which makes a streaming video accessible to observe later utilizing your nearby stockpiling utilizing the application's interface as it were. This isn't a strategy that permits you to, say, watch a video utilizing different software like the VLC Media Player or Plex.

You access the download by going to the YouTube burger menu and choosing Downloads to see the rundown of what you've snatched. The page says "Downloads stay accessible as long as your device has a functioning web association no less than once like clockwork." This presumably isn't the very thing you are searching for in a download; read on for devices that are a superior fit.

Outsider software will give you the best command over downloading online videos. Normally, you glue the URL for the YouTube video you need into the program, and it downloads the greatest adaptation it can find. For videos in 1080p superior quality (HD) format, that is generally a MP4 file. For anything better — 4K or 8K — the file format is regularly MKV.

Previously, YouTube videos were Streak based, so your download was a FLV file, yet those will more often than not be more diligently to play back. MP4 (short for MPEG-4 Section 14 mixed media format) files can play anyplace

Note that the MKV file, likewise called a Matroska, is a holder — the file could contain video using quite a few codecs inside. The secure method for playing them everything is to involve the VLC Media Player for Windows, which plays everything. (Peruse more about it underneath.) Concerning the downloaders, here are the most ideal choices.

VLC Media Player is a fabulous device for Windows, Macintosh, and Linux users that plays back pretty much any media at any point made. It likewise can download YouTube videos, but in a tangled way. (In the event that you run into any issues, attempt a full re-introduce of VLC and clear your store to make it work.)

Duplicate a URL from a YouTube video, then, at that point, open up VLC. From the Media menu, select Open Organization Stream (Ctrl+N) and glue in the URL. Click Play. At the point when the video is playing, go to Instruments > Codec Information. There is a case at the base called "Source" — duplicate the URL you track down in that crate.

[phoenixyfriend]

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

[anyoneseenadam]

You write fenrys so well 🥺

Can I request something for him falling in love with a lady who works in a library and is friends with aelin and he keeps finding excuses to visit the library and one day they realize they’re mates ? Can you plz include alot of longing looks & touched and his friends noticing ?

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: drinking, small argument, mainly fluff

a/n: kay so it's been a hot MINUTE since I've posted and I am sorry my loves, also I comepletely modified this but I hope you still like it, comment and shiz pls it really helps with writers block lol <33

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

You had met Aelin sometime after the war. She had been wandering around town a couple days after the coronation, smiling at children and waving at the elderly, observing the way the town was slowly filling again, people returning home now it was safe. There weren’t many people about however, it just being seven in the morning.

She had walked past a shop then. It was small and rickety, the door barely on its hinges as a girl fought with it, swearing like a sailor.

“Do you need some help?” she asked, moving to stand beside the girl. You screamed instantly, jumping out of your skin at her sudden appearance, having not heard anyone coming due to how absorbed you were in your job. Aelin screamed when you screamed, and it left the two of you staring at each other with wide eyes before you fell apart in fits of laughter.

You stood from where you had bent to clutch your stomach, wiping tears from your eyes as you calmed down.

“Jeez you fucking gave me a heart attack,” you laughed as she apologised, still giggling behind her hand. You then turned, hands on your hips as you glared at the door of your shop.

“Rude men should be put down,” you muttered and Aelin was laughing again.

“That I can get behind,” she said as you opened it, giving up on fixing it completely, Aelin gasping when she saw the inside.

“You have a bookshop!” she exclaimed, and you laughed.

“Had, now I just have dusty books and a broken door. It was my mother’s before…” you trailed off and Aelin put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” she said, and you shrugged.

“It’s fine, it was ages ago anyway,” you stepped further into the shop, going to the large window up front and tugging of the white sheet that obscured it from light. “However, this shop isn’t dead yet so might as well get it done.”

Aelin looked around the shop, the paper on the walls was peeling, the paint on the shelves cracked and the books covered in a fine layer of dust. “Damn, where do we start?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves and grinning at you when you whirled around, frowning at her.

“Doesn’t the queen have better things to do?” you asked, and she shrugged, laughing at your bewildered expression.

“I’m sure my husband will cope.” You gave her an unsure look at that, and she laughed, “He’s competent.”

“If you say so.”

“If you knew I was queen you really have no fear of authority do you?” she asked as you started pulling books down and pilling them onto the sheet you just pulled off the window.

“Respect is earned, plus you’re the one who made me shit myself.” She laughed again, smiling widely, and helping you take down more books as she realised this was the most she had laughed since the war ended.

--

The worked all day. First removing the books and putting them upstairs in the rundown apartment you lived in, filled with plants, blankets, and somehow even more books. Next the repainted the shelves, setting them outside to dry while they re-wallpapered the walls and cleaned the floor until it was shining.

When the sky got darker you swore as you realised neither of you had eaten all day, going up to your new friend and asking her what she wanted for dinner.

“I make really good pasta,” you had suggested, and she had nodded enthusiastically as you went upstairs to your apartment, drinking wine as you cooked together. As you ate on the floor, drinking yet another bottle of wine, this time straight from the bottle Aelin asked about your past.

You assured her it was relatively normal, asides from the whole ‘evil tyrant thing’ as you put it. You talked together for hours, going back downstairs, and bringing the now dry, sage green shelves back in and putting all the books away, setting them in categories.

Hours later Aelin decided to go home, not wanting to worry so much and she opened the still broken door, the both of you laughing as you realised you had forgotten a pretty integral part.

“Hey, you could just name the shop, ‘the broken door’,” she suggested, and you smiled.

“That would work.”

--

When Aelin got home she was met with a concerned Rowan, asking where she had been all day.

She smiled at him, pausing before answering, “I think I have a new best friend.”

Rowan frowned at that, “And what brings you to that conclusion?”

“Today was the first time I’ve laughed since…” she trailed off as silence fell at the thought of their past few months, Rowan then bringing her in for a hug.

“You know this means I have to meet her too then,”

“Nope my best friend get your own.” She shoved him playfully, falling asleep next to him that night with a smile on her face.

--

They went to see you the next morning and Aelin laughed when she saw your dishevelled state.

“Did you sleep?” she asked when she walked into the shop and found signs put up and plants dotted around the room as you sat on the floor, drinking a coffee that smelt so strong she almost gagged, much preferring sweeter tastes.

“Sleep is for the weak!” you said, half-heartedly raising your hand.

“And what’s with all the plants?” Rowan asked, frowning as he almost walked into another and you sat up straighter, glaring at him.

“What you too good for plants?” you asked your hands moving over-exaggeratedly as you got to your feet. “Don’t listen to him, he’s just a stinky man,” you whispered to the plants and Aelin laughed at her husbands offended face.

You stood and started walking upstairs, your feet dragging as you went to get breakfast. You heard them follow you and you pushed open the door to your flat.

You had even more plants up here and Rowan rolled his eyes as you moved to open the large windows, letting in fresh air, you then moved about making pancakes, mixing enough for the three of you and adding blueberries when you were finished.

You cooked them up while chatting idly with Aelin and Rowan, only receiving a small amount of judgement when Aelin discovered you didn’t actually have a bed and instead just a mattress on the floor with a sheet for warmth and some soft pillows. Your house was newly decorated, art hung on the walls, plants and candles decorating every surface.

“Tea, coffee, water, vodka?” you offered them drinks and Aelin whined.

“No vodka, we had too much wine last night,” you laughed at that as you served up coffee and pancakes.

“Yeah we’ll have to go properly drinking some night,” you muttered, Rowan chuckling under his breath and nodding in agreement.

The three of you ate the rest of your food, laughing and joking together and Rowan really noticed the difference in Aelin’s manner. She hadn’t been truly comfortable or at ease in months, always looking over her shoulder, but now she sat laughing with her friend and Rowan wanted to thank you a million times over for bringing her back out of her shell.

--

Since you first met Aelin you were meeting up almost every day, discussing books over tea and hanging out at your shop, or drinking from expensive glasses in her castle while trying on elaborate dresses. Soon you were practically apart of the family, but that didn’t stop the confusion Fenrys felt when he walked into the castle and found a young girl sleeping on Aelins’ bed, a book opened but abandoned on her chest.

He tentatively walked forward so he could see her more clearly and felt his heart clench when his eyes fall upon her peaceful face, her eyes closed, and hair spread around her head like a halo. He was about to reach a hand out to brush a strand of hair from her soft hair when he heard the door open, turning to see Aelin run in, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

“Fenrys I didn’t know you were back,” she said when she pulled back, bouncing on the soles of her feet excitedly and he laughed.

“Are you going to explain why there’s a girl in your bed, or do I need to break some news to Rowan,” he joked and she shoved his shoulder before moving to the bed and shaking the girl awake.

“It’s just (y/n),” she explained as the girl huffed and rolled away from Aelin.

“Ah of course this person who I definitely knew existed,” Aelin stuck her finger up at him as he laughed, unable to stop his eyes from trailing back to her.

He watched as she breathed in deeply, her eyes opening slowly as she took him in, before she pulled her covers up to over her chin and frowned at him and Aelin with a small pout.

“I was having the best dream every asshole,” she complained and Fenrys smiled as she sat up on her elbows and reached a hand out to him to shake, introducing herself. He brushed the shake of and instead brought her hand to his mouth pressing a kiss to the back of it as sparks show through her skin at the sensation.

“I’m Fenrys, ambassador of Terrasen,” he smiled cheekily as she shrunk away slightly, nerves taking over her, “hope to see you around more.”

He left, pressing a quick kiss to Aelin’s temple, and winking at you as Aelin moved over to you with wide eyes.

“Aelin��” you started as she squealed.

“He was totally flirting with you! You would be such a cute couple, please, please ask him out I need you two to get married and have to worlds prettiest babies!” she was bouncing in hr seat as you moved to shut her up.

“Okay ONE, I just met him. And TWO, he was far too pretty for me,” you said and Aelin frowned.

“Nope, nope you are incorrect, and he is going to fall in love with you,” she demanded, and you laughed, kicking her with your foot.

“Mhm sure.”

--

The next few days, Fenrys was coming to your shop every day. He would bring chocolates and flowers some days, or coffee and pastries other days. Always dropping them off with a smile, before lounging in the plush, green chair in the corner of the shop and talking to you for hours. He has also started coming to your and Aelin’s weekly cocktail night, wrapping his arm around your shoulder’s and laughing drunkenly into your neck as you told stories.

However, through all this you remained ‘friends’. He would press kisses to your cheek and hands, keep an arm slung around your waist when men came to speak at you at bars and primarily referred to you using pet names and rarely ever your actual name. And it was getting frustrating.

You were having to start putting genuine effort to not kiss him every time you had a drink and he sat extra close to you. Or when you were invited to parties, and he moved smoothly through the countless questions asking if you were dating.

And while you revelled in the attention it was tearing at your heart slightly as insecurities told you that he would never actually be interested in you. You wanted to scream at him every time he kissed you but wanted to melt into him every time he hugged you, your brain constantly at battle with itself when he was near.

You knew you were due to explode any time soon. So when you were out one night and he was holding you extra close, you pulled away, muttering an excuse about getting another drink.

Standing at the bar as you waited you rested you head in your hands for a second before you saw a man begin to approach you. He was attractive, not like Fenrys, but honestly you would take anything to get your mind of him at the moment, so you smiled at him, tilting your head.

“What’s a doll like you doing all alone?” he asked, his voice rough and gravelly, unlike the smooth, deep timbre you were used to, but you just laughed.

“Waiting for a man to not dehumanise me,” you bit back, and he raised his hands sheepishly.

“Sorry about that, what would you prefer?” he flirted, sidling up closer to you as you turned to face him.

“Can’t go wrong with ma’am,” you joked, and he laughed, looking down and shaking his head, only to look back up, his eyes going wide. You felt a familiar hand wrap around your waist and looked up to see Fenrys, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as he glared at the man in front of you.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice deep and full of authority, the man in front of you shrinking under his gaze.

“Shit sorry man, didn’t realise she had a boyfriend,” he apologised and this time you did roll your eyes.

“He’s not my-“ you began but Fenrys cut you off.

“Yeah she does, so back the fuck off.” You looked down as he spoke, shaking your head as tears of frustration built in your eyes. You harshly pulled out of his grip, leaving the bar as quickly as you could, wiping away the escaped tears as you heard Fenrys follow after you, shouting your name.

You whirled around when you got outside, your glare murderous.

“You do not get to do that!” you shouted as he moved closer to you.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry,” he began but you cut him off.

“NO! I am not your girlfriend! You have never once asked me to be so you don’t get to try scare away any guy that might have genuine interest in me!” his shoulders slumped as you spoke. Truthfully, he has been working up the courage to ask you out for months, and while he knew it was unfair how he treated you, he couldn’t help himself. He was addicted. He thought of you constantly, the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the way your eyes lit up and the way you moved your hands as you spoke. So when he saw you engage with the man that had the audacity to talk to you, his grip tightened on his glass so much it shattered, ignoring the worried looks from Aelin and Rowan as he stomped over to you.

“(y/n) listen, I’ve been an asshole I know,” he raised his hands, tentatively stepping towards you, “But I really care about you, and I want to be yours.”

You laughed bitterly, “You’re just saying that.”

He shook his head vehemently, stepping closer to you again and wrapping his arms around your shoulders so gently, one would think you were made of glass.

“I love you darling, please be mine,” he said into your hair, and you pulled back, looking up at him through glassy eyes before nodding slightly.

“I love you Fenrys,” he smiled down at you before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against your mouth, pouring his heart into the action. You gasped slightly as your lips met and he smiled widely against your mouth as the bond clicked into place.

“You know this means I now have an excuse to break the nose of any man that talks to you,” he whispered against your lips, and you giggled, shoving at his shoulder gently.

“I’m still annoyed at you,” you muttered, and his eyes darkened.

“Well I’m sure I can make it up to you.”

[moral-turpitudes]

For The Family:

Masterlist | Rules | Peaky Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Swearing, Angst, Fighting/Arguing, Pregnancy, Fluff.

Word Count: 2,572

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Requested by: Anon, it can be found here.

Summary: One argument and a million frazzled nerves sends Y/N running out the doors of Shelby Company Limited, causing Thomas to re-evaluate his plans and think about more than himself for once.

One minute.

One minute was all it took for her to walk out, heels stomping through the shop halls of Shelby Company Limited and to the car. Not caring that she and Thomas rode in together that morning. He was resourceful, so he could surely find another way home, if he could make it home that is.

The morning had started out as usual, her husband calling a family meeting to discuss the days events and the legitimate business. Giving them all a rundown of the numbers and telling her and Lizzie about what papers needed filing. But not long after everyone had been given their tasks, he made one final remark. “I have a plan to discuss though, before you all go.” He said, putting his cigarette out.

“God what is it now?” Polly asked rolling her eyes in Y/N’s direction. She smirked slightly, avoiding her husbands gaze as she clasped her hands in front of her, preparing for whatever it is he’d say next.

“I’m going to go after the men who trashed our pub.” He said, looking at the paper on the table that talked about the recent bombing of the place.

“They’ll just come after us again though. What if they plant bombs here aye Tom? We’ll be fookin’ blown to bits.” Arthur said looking out the window. Paranoia already setting in.

“We’ll be fine. They’re getting what’s coming to them.” Thomas said, noticing his wife tensing up as he looked over towards her, her usual relaxed demeanor long gone. The ring on her finger that she was looking at, disappearing as the tears welled up in her eyes.

Polly sighed and clicked her manicured nails against her teacup, hoping that whatever strategy he had planned was good, knowing he’d go through with it no matter who tried to stop him.

“How do you know?” Y/N asked, wiping away her tears as the thought of bombs surrounding the shop ran through her mind.

“What?” Thomas asked, his voice even and unbothered by his family’s concerns.

“How do you know we’ll be fine huh? You said that three months ago and there I was trying to keep you from bleeding out on our driveway.” She said, cringing at the thought of when he’d come home miraculously after being shot in the abdomen, mere inches away from anything vital.

“That was different. This is a another gang with different ways of doing things.” He said, dismissing her concern as the family grew antsy.

“No it’s not. They all have the same fucking goals in mind, Thomas.” She said quietly, going straight to the bathroom. Not bothering to lock the door as she’d made quite the scene.

“When do we go?” John asked, breaking the awkward silence as Thomas tore his gaze from his wife’s empty seat.

Thomas didn’t answer him as he stormed out after her, not bothering to knock as he waltzed right in. “What were you trying to do back there aye? What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked, an anger to his voice that was usually only reserved for his brothers.

“Why are you in here yelling at me? I was trying to get you to think about your fucking family. You say everything is fine, you say everything will work out but how do you know?...” She asked as he stood there without an answer.

“That’s right. You don’t. But you go along with everything anyways not bothering to think about anyone else other than yourself and your little agenda! I’m tired of it.” She spat, looking at him angrily as she realized that was one of the only times she truly yelled at the man.

“I’m doing this to protect the family!” He said, running a hand over his tired face. Y/N looked at him for a few moments, her warm eyes meeting his ice cold ones.

“You signed up for this Y/N.” He said, inching closer to her.

“The only thing I signed up for was to love you. I didn’t sign up to watch us get blown up or to be pawns in your little games. I’m done.” She said, holding her palm to her stomach, the familiar nauseous feeling returning for the third time that week.

“I won’t let them hurt us.” He said, trying to take her hand in his but feeling her turn away.

“Tommy...you don’t realize how many nights I’ve stayed up for you. How many nights I’ve seen you in your office half alive. How many times I’ve dragged myself in here not wondering if I’d ever see you again. You don’t realize who all needs you, and I’m afraid you may never realize it because we’ll all be dead because of you one day.” She said turning to face him, her face pale and her hands shaking as she wiped her tears away once more.

“Why are you so worried about everything now aye? You know I have to do this or it’ll get worse.” He said, more quietly than before.

“Because....I can’t stand the thought of losing you. I know I can’t do anything to stop that but I can’t sit around here or at the house worrying all day. I have more to think about now...more to protect.” She said, leaning against the counter as he walked over to her, putting his arms around her in a tight hug.

“What are you not telling me aye?” He asked, his voice quiet like before, a hint of genuine concern in his voice.

“I’m pregnant, Tom...Just found out last week while you were gone. I was going to tell you later today but...I couldn’t after that meeting. It made me sick thinking about all the possibilities.” She said, looking down at the tiled floor. Her heart hurt at knowing he’d leave her again when she’d only recently gotten him back from one of his “missions.”

Thomas stood there and sighed, the gears shifting in his mind as he thought about what he could and couldn’t do. All the decisions he could make put them at risk, or more so himself, but this forced him to look at things slightly differently. She needed him there, now more than ever, and blowing himself up or getting himself shot wouldn’t do the family any good. But deep down he knew he had to do something.

“You’re thinking of another plan...I can’t believe you.” She spat, walking out of the shop and towards the car, knowing the safest place to be was probably their house.

Thomas punched the counter, frustrated at the woman he loved, the impact stinging his hand as he went back into his office.

“Get your things ready gentlemen. We’re going this evening. Pol I need you to tell me when you knew.” He said quickly, John quirking an eyebrow as he loaded his shotgun.

“She told me she felt off last week, so I read her tea leaves. She didn’t want to tell you until you came back, and it wasn’t my place to tell her business.” She said.

“What’s our dear sister in law hiding aye? She left here in a hurry after all that.” Arthur said.

“She’s pregnant.” Thomas said lighting a cigarette, an expression on his face that was hard to pin down. Frustration, happiness, fear, sorrow, all of them danced around his head as he thought through his plan.

“Well let’s get this over with then brother. You have some making up to do since she left like she did.” Arthur said.

“My wife is my concern Arthur. Just get the guns, get the grenades, and get in the car.” He said sternly.

“....right.” Arthur said, giving Polly a quick hug and patting John on the back before heading out to his car.

“She’s worried about everyone, about me, about the bombs. Hell she’s the safest of all of us if she’s at home though.” Thomas said, mumbling as Polly watched him.

“Of course she’s worried Tom. You plan this stuff out on a whim and expect everyone to go along. What she needs is support and to know you’ll be okay. You’re her husband and the father of her child for Christ’s sake, at least try to not get yourself killed so you can see the poor thing. God...Planning all these things and throwing bombs whenever ya please will only get ya that much closer to your grave.” She said walking out of the room.

Thomas stood there with a blank stare, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he went over the last hour in his head. For as many things he planned, Y/N always knew how to keep him on his toes, and this by far was the best, yet most frustrating one. He wanted to be there for her, and he never doubted that for a second. But he couldn’t guarantee his safety and he knew she was right about that. So with all his will, he sauntered out to the car, telling the boys the new plan, and hauling off to finish the job, praying to nothing in particular that they’d all make it home.

As the hours passed by, the sunlight soon faded as a grenade was thrown, taking out the last three men that they couldn’t shoot down. It wasn’t his plan to start out, since he wanted to bomb their whole operation, but for Y/N’s sake, he told his brothers to use one bomb to avoid hurting themselves, and innocent people nearby. They had enough ammo to take down the rest, even if they had to take cover behind the rickety barstools and old tables.

“You sure you didn’t want to use those other grenades Tom? Just take down the whole building?” Arthur asked breathlessly as they loaded up the car.

“No. Wasn’t worth it. We can use the others some other time.” He said shortly, not wanting to discuss how he’d stopped himself from throwing the others out of love for her. Thinking it would make him seem weak.

“Alright, well let’s get back. You have some explaining to do at home.” Arthur said driving as fast as he could to Thomas’ manor to drop him off. With a small salute, they drove off, John smoking a cigar out the back as they disappeared into the night.

The house was quiet as Thomas arrived, the only light coming from his study as the door was cracked open. Music was playing lightly as he opened the door, Y/N lying on one of the lounge chairs with a book lazily in her hand. Her eyes closed and a soft snore escaping her lips as she slept by the fire.

Thomas plucked the book from her hand gently, putting it back on the bookshelf. Noticing how she shuffled around in her sleep, her brow furrowing almost in worry like a bad dream. Quietly, he walked over to his desk, taking off his coat and everything else work related until he was in his pants and dress shirt, the gun that was nestled in its holster gently placed on the desk as well.

With a swift movement, he gently picked her up, carrying her to their room. The lavish king bed greeting them both as he laid her down, Y/N almost instinctively reaching for him despite their earlier argument.

“Goodnight love. We’ll talk in the morning.” He said as he ran his hand down her back, settling in beside her.

“I love you...” She mumbled before drifting off once again.

“Love you too.” He said quietly knowing she was out. With a small kiss to her head he laid his head back against his pillow, dreams of Y/N and their child filling his mind for once instead of horrid nightmares.

The next morning he awoke to Y/N retching in the bathroom, the morning sickness finally living up to its name as the week went on.

Thomas got up in concern, lightly tapping on the door.

“You alright love? Can I get you anything?” He asked.

“No. I’m fine.” She said shortly, her brain fog from the nights sleep clearing from her mind as she remembered their fight. Her heart aching at his reaction and at his decision he’d made to continue with his plan last night.

After washing up, she finally left the restroom, haphazardly putting her clothes on as she looked at the clock. The time reading dangerously close to when they’d usually leave for work.

“We’re going to be late. Why aren’t you getting ready?” She asked.

“We’re taking the day off.” He said sitting back into the lavish pillows and lighting a cigarette.

Y/N scoffed, and sat next to him, her mind racing to how he’d be up and begging to go to work in less than an hour.

“Tommy Shelby taking a day off? That’s fucking unheard of.” She said, reaching for his hand that was now draped over her leg.

“We need it. Even if it’s only for today.” He said.

“Why?” She asked, messing with the few rings he had on his fingers.

“We need to talk about yesterday. And....I didn’t have the best reaction....so I wanted to apologize. You have me to yourself for the rest of the day.” He said, a slight smirk on his face.

Y/N sighed as she remembered, their heated argument filling the walls of the shop restroom as she tried to get him to see reason, knowing not even she could get him to change his mind, or so she thought.

“I changed my plan last night. I was going to bomb the whole place...but uh...when I looked at them....I saw you. I only used one and we shot the rest.” He said, hating he had to tell her the details but that unfortunately came with the territory of marrying a gang leader.

“Really? Only one?” She asked, her eyes flicking up to his as they laid their on the bed.

“Mhmm. Didn’t want to hurt other people ‘round there. I saw women and their children near the place...and it got me thinking of what you’d said earlier...I couldn’t use more after that.” He said, finally coming to peace with the fact he didn’t have to completely obliterate the place to get his message across, saving innocent lives in the long run.

Y/N smiled as she gazed into his eyes, trying not to drown in the ocean blue orbs as he took her hand in his and brought it up to his lips.

“I know I didn’t have the best reaction yesterday to the news...but I am happy. I can’t wait to see them. And I know you’ll be a wonderful mother. I couldn’t be happier, love.” He said softly, gently resting his hand atop her stomach and kissing her temple.

Y/N nodded, a sense of relief flowing off her as she finally knew he wasn’t upset. Even if she’d had Polly find out before him.

“Thank you...” She said quietly, the sunlight streaming in through windows as she pulled him closer to her, not wanting to let him go anytime soon.

“Are we going to lie in bed all day?” He asked.

“You said I had ya all to myself, I can think of a few other things we could do.” She said, smirking at him as she pulled him in for a kiss. Both of them looking forward to spending the day with each other, even though it was a rare occurrence.

Thomas Shelby Tag List:

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If you’d like to be added/removed, just send me an ask/message! :)

[haworthiaace]

I’ve recently discovered that writing may be a little bit fun so. Here’s something for @shadeswift99 ‘s ghostbusters au (this post right here) :]

Tango didn’t believe in ghosts.

Why would he? There had never been any reputable, scientific evidence, and despite what his friends have told him countless times, ‘feeling a presence’ didn’t count as scientific evidence. However, his conviction didn’t seem to deter Zed and Impulse at all, who regularly barged into Tango’s apartment with their latest ‘discovery’. 

“Tango, guess what?” The sound of his poor, battered door slamming open once again and Zed’s excited voice disrupted the peaceful silence that had dominated the room for the past few hours.

“Hi Zed, Impulse, good to see you guys too.” Tango didn’t have to look up from his laptop to know that Impulse was standing right behind Zed, too polite to barge in without some sort of invitation. Not polite enough to stop Zed, unfortunately.

Zedaph didn’t even acknowledge the greeting, continuing his thought the second he flopped down into a worn armchair. “Impulse and I were talking, and then we got on the topic of those guys who visit haunted places and hunt ghosts, and then I said ‘Well why can’t we do that?’” He sat up, eagerly looking at Tango, who could not for the life of him figure out what the man wanted from him.

Impulse, in his infinite kindness, noticed his friend’s confusion and filled in the gaps Zed had left in his excitement. “Zed and I want to start a ghost hunting business, and we need you to join us because you have a car.” He sat down much more gracefully than his companion, holding a small bowl of chips stolen from Tango’s kitchen.

The room was silent for a moment. “Hold on, what?”

“We-“

“No, I heard you, I’m just not exactly sure why you would think to ask me.” Tango never went on their other adventures no matter how many times they asked. After all, he had better things to do than chase wind and broken air conditioning, and it was dangerous to set a precedent. “You’re the ones who believe in all that fancy mystical stuff, not me.”

Zed stopped bouncing, and Impulse quickly brought forward the second, more practical half of their pitch. “We know you don’t believe in any of this, but even if ghosts aren’t real-”

“Which they are!”

“Right. A lot of people believe they are real, and will pay good money for some help handling them.” 

Tango pondered this for a moment, making A Face for effect that made Zed giggle. Impulse had a good point, as was often the case unfortunately. Tango didn’t have a stable source of income at the moment, and an actual business could help quite a bit with groceries, especially if Impulse was going to keep stealing his snacks every time he came over. And working with friends would certainly be a bonus.

“What the hell, I’m in. Worst case scenario nothing happens and I laugh at you two.” Zedaph lit up like an over ambitious Christmas tree, resuming his bouncing with even more enthusiasm than before. 

Impulse just grinned, “And best case scenario you finally figure out the truth.”

“In your dreams, Impy.”

-

Tango opened his eyes, and found himself lying prone on the floor. What was I doing? The dark, musty room plus Impulse and Zed looming over him struck a bell in his head.

They were on a job, as was the case most nights. Why Zed and Impulse insisted they do this at night was beyond him, but that was an argument for another time. A nonsensical ventilation system and a questionable foundation caused strange happenings in the home, and the trio had been called in. But even Tango had to admit this house was strange, and different from the others. The moment he entered, the hairs on the back of his neck raised, and he felt a chill. Their whole visit had been shadowed by a sense of wrongness. 

“...Tango? Is that you?” Impulse’s voice broke the silence, with a hint of uncertainty that shouldn’t have been there.

“Yeah dude, of course it’s me. What happened?” Tango groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position. His head spun, but he forced himself to stand.

Zed raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright, I know this is going to sound really strange, but we think you got possessed?” 

Tango stared blankly at his two friends, and finally through the fog in his head realized they were dead serious. “Really guys? Come on, I know you believe in ghosts and all but isn’t possession a little bit much?”

Impulse started wringing his hands, and Zed spoke up, quieter than before. Neither one would make eye contact. “You… you weren’t yourself Tango. You looked angry, and kept throwing things.” Huh. Well that explained the broken furniture scattered around the room, and why Tango was so sore. “You knocked over a salt shaker, then suddenly passed out when the salt touched you.”

Tango was fairly certain he had never done that before. He was unnerved by the gap in his memory, but he tucked that into a corner of his mind to unpack later. Right now he had to convince these two knuckleheads that he wasn’t possessed.

“I haven’t eaten today, it was probably that.” They gaped at him, but whether it was because of his adamant skepticism or his poor eating habits Tango couldn’t tell. “It might be like… a low blood sugar thing.” Tango tried his best to be nonchalant, but his friends didn’t look relieved.

Zed stood up, the worry in his face replaced with anger as he crossed the room in long strides towards the door. “I really can’t believe you. Here we are, worried for your life and soul, and you call it low blood sugar.”

That wasn’t meant to happen. Tango rushed to fix his mistake. “I- I’m sorry man. I know you guys are worried, but I’m fine now! Whatever it was, it seems to be gone.” A small smile crossed his friend’s face, and Impulse moved to stand behind Tango, clapping a hand on his back.

“All that matters is you’re alright. Anyway, I think the salt scared the ghost off, so how about we head home, get some post mission pizza for that low blood sugar of yours?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Tango grimaced at the disaster that he had apparently made. “How about we tell the homeowners that the ghost did this?”

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

The ironic thing is that he wasn’t even on a mission at the time.

Tango was on his way home, cradling a bandaged hand that he would surely have to explain the second he walked into the apartment he shared with his business partners. His mind repeated the events of the past hour as he made his way down the sidewalk.

He had been browsing a thrift store, searching for a new pair of boots after his old pair wore out. He loved them dearly, but when the sole ripped off for the third time, Impulse drew the line and sent him off to find a new pair. His wandering/ moping brought him to One Man’s Trash: a rickety, rundown looking thrift store that was absolutely perfect. In Tango’s experience, all the good stuff got snatched up too fast at more popular stores, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with this place other than its appearance. 

He delicately pushed the door open, greeted by a dusty smell mixed with cleaning supplies, and  a loud, clear bell that was hung above the doorway. The interior walls were plastered with peeling, faded orange wallpaper that Tango guessed was at least 50 years old. They were decorated with dozens of picture frames containing vintage photos and postcards, each with its own price tag. The grey, carpeted floor complained where he stepped, and it was covered in tables with items for sale. It seemed people donated plenty, but never shopped here. Nobody was attending the front counter, which wasn’t a surprise for a place that probably only saw one customer a month, so Tango began his quest for the perfect pair.

After spending a good hour searching every nook and cranny of the disorganized sales floor, he found a sturdy pair of black leather boots hidden underneath a table, almost knee high with a one inch heel. They were covered in buckles and looked like they would be featured in a suburban parent’s nightmares. In the entire time he was there nobody had come out of the doorway in the back of the room, which Tango admitted was a tad strange. He even checked the sign in the front window to be sure, but the word ‘open’ was still lit up in neon just as it had been when he entered. He tapped the bell next to the cash register, but after a minute still nobody had arrived. He rang it again, and once more after that, still with no answer.

“Hello?” He tried, walking towards the only other doorway in the room, searching for a break room or something where the cashier might be. Maybe they fell asleep. “Is anyone here? I’ve got this pair of boots I want to buy.” 

Still no answer.

He felt awful about invading the back room like this, but he was growing concerned. What if something had happened to the cashier? What if someone was in trouble? So, he pushed open the door, and found himself staring up at someone; a man with frazzled black hair and a brown suit that looked about as old as the wallpaper. 

Except he could also see the break room. Through the man’s chest.

He blinked rapidly, trying to process what was certainly just a trick of the light. It was obviously just a shadow on the fabric that looked like a couch behind him. A very detailed couch, covered in a floral pattern with two overstuffed pillows on either end. The strange man didn’t say a word, simply staring at Tango with an increasingly malicious grin, watching his mind try to wrap itself around what he was seeing. 

Then, without warning, he snatched Tango by the wrist, spinning him around and leaving bleeding scratches where the man’s claw-like nails had torn into Tango’s skin. Before he could even register the pain, the man charged at him and Tango braced for impact, but felt a deep chill instead. It was the coldest he had ever felt, as if every winter from the next hundred years had come to take out their wrath on one man. 

It passed half a second later, leaving Tango shivering and clutching his bleeding hand. The man was gone. “How did he- oh shit.”

Sometimes, there comes a time when a person must accept defeat. When they’ve lost the battle, and are left with nothing but their pride. As Tango kneeled on the carpet, frozen to his core and holding his bleeding hand, the boots long forgotten, he could only see one logical explanation for… all of this. 

“...Ghosts are actually real.”

So it turned out that the shopkeeper had to step out for a few hours due to an emergency, and also that ghosts exist and haunt thrift stores.

The cashier was really quite nice about the whole ordeal, offering Tango some first aid and the boots he found for free as an apology for their otherworldly roommate’s “antisocial habits.” As Tango walked home, boots in his uninjured hand, he had another revelation, albeit not as earth shattering as the first. He didn’t actually have to tell Zed and Impulse what happened while he was out. It would keep them humble to have someone constantly denying the validity of their work, and Tango may or may not have found it a little, tiny bit funny. He was doing them a service, really! Tango grinned to himself, delighted by how much his friends would appreciate* his help**.

*they did not appreciate this, and were in fact greatly annoyed

**this was not remotely helpful to anyone

-

Tango woke up, finding himself on the floor as he now did more often than most people would consider normal. Then again, most people weren’t an optimal vessel for otherworldly entities. This time though… something was wrong. More wrong than usual.

He was cold, despite the thick summer air, and he felt like his lungs had shrunk to a quarter of their size, his breath coming in short puffs. He noticed that he was in the same room from before he lost consciousness, and that it was in the same condition he had left it in, which didn’t happen often. Usually ghosts took advantage of corporeal hands to do some property damage, but this time the modern, expensive looking couches were thankfully unbroken, same with the family pictures on the walls. 

... What was on his face? Tango felt a liquid slowly running down his cheek. Had the ghost been crying? That was a first. He reached a hand up to wipe away the tears and saw a flash of red. There was a smudge of blood on his left hand, but no injury.

He felt dread settle in his stomach, and slowly reached up with his clean right hand to touch what he had assumed was tears.

Sure enough, his fingertips came away red. “What the hell?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

“Tango! Oh my god, are you alright? Of course not, why am I asking that?” Zedaph burst into the living room, seemingly invited by Tango’s outburst. He grimaced at the floor and Tango followed his gaze to see a concerningly large pool of blood surrounding Tango. This would certainly explain why he felt so much worse than usual. “It threatened you and forced us to leave but then I didn’t leave and I snuck some sage into the room and then I heard a thud and-”

“Zed, slow down.” Tango groaned, holding his spinning head in his hands. “I can’t process a word you’re saying right now.” 

Zed seemed to remember his friend’s recent blood loss, looking sheepish. “Right, my bad. It’s a long story, but we need to get you to a hospital or something. Not to be rude, but you look awful.” 

“It’s alright, I feel awful so at least I match on the outside.” Zed started to walk across the room, trying not to step in the puddle whilst also trying to help Tango up.

Eventually he managed to pull Tango up by the hand, holding him steady when he started to sway.

Impulse greeted them with relief when they made it out to the car, Tango leaning on Zed’s shoulder, but he looked horrified once Tango’s face came into view. “Oh my god!” He covered his mouth with both hands, then immediately dropped them as though he had been rude. “Oh man, sorry about that, it’s just- your eyes…”

Tango shrugged, “Yeah, they seem to have sprung a leak.” 

“Well I knew about that, but…” His eyebrows furrowed as even he, a believer in almost anything supernatural, was confused about whatever disturbing thing this ghost had done. “They changed colour? They’re red now. Like, the whole eye, even the white bit.”

“Cool.”

Zed piped up from his position under Tango’s arm. “‘Cool’? What do you mean ‘cool’?” He did his best to make air quotes without dropping his friend, who had clearly gone mad. “You literally got possessed and started bleeding from your eyes, and now they’ve changed colour, how is any of that cool?”

Tango, in his noble quest to annoy his friends, just shrugged again. “Probably burst a blood vessel or something, and it got in my eyes. Man, why is it always ghosts with you two?”

A Look came across Impulse’s face. Probably Zed’s too, but Tango couldn’t exactly see him. It was a Look that meant Tango had completely baffled them with his supposed obliviousness, which had only happened a few glorious times.

“Ok he’s clearly delirious, we should take him to the hospital.” Impulse pushed himself off the hood of the car and opened the back door, placing a towel on the seat. After all, this was Tango’s car and Impulse figured he probably wouldn’t appreciate blood all over the back seat.

“I mean, regardless of his bullshit he definitely needs to see a doctor, there was a lot of blood on that floor.” Zed quickly followed, helping Tango into the backseat then sliding in next to him. Tango supposed it was to keep an eye on him, which was great because he felt ready to pass out again.

On the bright side, he caught a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror and they did in fact look cool as hell. Of course, Zed and Impulse later disagreed because it could have been a ‘serious medical issue,’ but that was their problem.

-

At the end of a very long and very strange day, the trio sat around on a variety of couches and chairs in their living room, four half eaten pizzas scattered about the room. Although, they weren’t exactly a trio anymore - a new member had decided to join them regardless of what Tango, Zed, and Impulse had to say about it. An entity (for he surely wasn’t human) known only as the Beetlejhost sat cross legged in an armchair, looking completely at home despite only having been there for about two hours.

If asked, none of the ghost hunters could precisely recall how the Beetlejhost had joined them. One moment they were on a job like any other, the next they were being insulted up and down by a ghost in a black and white striped suit. After that first encounter he hadn’t left them alone, despite their efforts including but not limited to: every ghost busting method they had ever heard of, and others that they hadn’t. 

Impulse sat up straight for no discernable reason, smacking the arms of his chair and startling everyone except for, of course, the Beetlejhost. He turned to Tango with a shit eating grin, which was absolutely a cause for concern.

“Hey Tango?” Uh oh. If the grin wasn’t bad enough, the singing tone in his voice solidified that whatever thought just entered his mind was truly devious. That or incredibly embarrassing. Maybe both. “It seems like our new roommate has a few… strange qualities. Supernatural, one could say.” He looked expectantly at Tango, that awful grin never leaving his face.

Uh oh.

Tango supposed that the jig was up. It had been a good run, he supposed. “Yeah, whatever. Ghosts are real, you happy?”

Just because he was busted didn’t mean he couldn’t sulk, so he crossed his arms and sank into his chair, completing the look by sticking out his bottom lip like a child who was just told ‘no.’

Zed piped up from where the others had assumed he was napping, not bothering to remove his face from where it was planted on the couch. “Absolutely.” The word was muffled, but it got his point across. Meanwhile, Impulse was smugly eating another slice of room temperature pepperoni pizza. Vindicated at last, after over a year of exasperated arguments and comical obliviousness. 

“I hope you know I’m only admitting it because I’m afraid of what the Beetlejhost would do to convince me.” Tango gave up on his sulking and walked across the room to the box of cheese pizza precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The man (or ghost? I suppose one can be both.) in question was looking off into the distance, lost in assuredly horrible thoughts. “And for the record, I figured the whole ghost thing out months ago, I just really liked annoying you guys.”

“Months ago?” Impulse held his pizza inches away from his mouth, the grin wiped off his face. “Are you telling me that when a ghost literally put you in the hospital and you still denied it, that was all just to annoy us?”

Now it was Tango’s turn to be smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”

-

So no, Tango didn’t believe in ghosts. But after everything he’d seen, he sure as hell believed in them now.

[theywontletmebeprincipal]

can you give me drowsy headcanons, ramble, or anything please, i am so deprived. do not be afraid to make it super long, the more the better, i just love drowsy chaperone and love to hear other people (plus you’re one of the only people i’ve seen who knows a lot abt it)

ASK AND YE SHALL RECIEVE

I’ll divide this into a few different parts, going from least to most excruciatingly sad :)

1. general headcanons

2. in canon things i noticed and think about daily

3. a full analysis of man in chair’s connections with the drowsy chaperone as an in universe show (trigger warning for abuse ment, alcoholism ment, suicide ment)

SECTION ONE: HEADCANONS

- okay the chaperone is trans I don’t make the rules

- also her name is ambrosia :) she forsook her last name :)

- she’s about 12 years older than janet and kinda hung with janet’s family after leaving her own for a while . essentially she’s a big sister to janet

- aldolpho has some lines where he asks if the bride is big and/or burly and while in canon this is supposed to show he’s kind of a womanizer I like to believe it’s because he was fully prepared to fight her if needed

- speaking of which Of Course janet is ripped she does gymnastics

- my batshit crazy headcanon for this show is that dee dee allen from the prom is a descendant of roman bartelli no I will not elaborate

- is aldolpho one of those bitches with pets that definitely shouldn’t be legal? yessir

- post show kitty becomes a star okay I just want her to be happy

- the “pastry chefs” do discover a love of baking post show and now run a shop along with performing in feldzeig’s follies which might maybe be a front for some crime too

- TRIX DROWSY AND ALDOLPHO WORLD TRAVELING POLYCULE CAUSING PROBLEMS ON PURPOSE

- underling’s name is james I will not elaborate on this either

- show never says what trix does so I’ve decided she’s an explorer. she charts maps and punches colonialists and drags her stupid friends along with her, the only bitch in the show with a braincell

- drowsy was a former vaudeville child star pre transition - she left the business but was a mentor to janet

- I do have a headcanon for mic’s name but in the spirit of every actor who’s ever played him I won’t fucking tell

SECTION TWO: SHIT I NOTICED

- robert refers to himself by full name a lot of the time which is v interesting given he’s named after the writer, bob martin (whose wife is also named janet van de graaf). the real bob martin is like five feet away at all times playing mic

- idk how to describe it but the dynamic kitty and feldzeig (VICTOR felgzeig. we have a name from one (1) line) have when talking to each other is so snappy and funny and good

- aldolpho’s lines in spanish are mostly romantic bullshit but his first one hints that he has/had a wife who, if we’re taking the translation literally, refused to touch him. yeah I’ll bring this up in analysis

- the “pastry chefs” provide liquor for the wedding even though it has absolutely no relevance to their mission of stopping it :)

- drowsy is like. SUPER endearing towards janet and despite her bad social skills it’s super clear she cares a lot about her

- robert speaks fluent french apparently

- everyone says “ew” after aldolpho reveals his affair with drowsy despite her being a certified milf

- the body language of drowsy in the end of the show where she takes mic’s hands and breaks the barrier between reality and fiction is just so good. she was iconic the whole show but I honestly think this final bit is what won beth leavel the Tony in the end

SECTION THREE: OH NO

before diving into the way the drowsy chaperone affects his character, we need to understand what exactly it’s playing off of. to fully understand mic’s attachment to the drowsy chaperone, we need to outline what led him to isolating himself and living in fiction to the extent that he does.

mic’s father left his family at an early age and his semi estranged alcoholic mother was the one who began his love for theatre. mic grew up in a broken household and eventually moved on to land in a one sided marriage, which lasted a few months until he slipped up and expressed his discomfort with the situation, after which he and his wife split. nowadays, he lives alone in his apartment surrounded by records he uses to escape to a better life - his favorite of which being the one his mother gave him, the drowsy chaperone.

symbolism in the drowsy chaperone regarding mic’s life can be split into two main categories - mommy issues and internalized homophobia. there isn’t nearly as much mom symbolism as there is the latter, so I’ll cover that first.

drowsy covers both bases, but she definitely has some undeniable mom symbolism going on. drowsy marries aldolpho and mom dreams of being swept off her feet by a latin lover, both feel they’ve wasted their chances at love, both drink to forget, etc. this is where the idea of the drowsy chaperone being mic’s ideal way for things to work out, a positive parallel, comes into play. given that we don’t hear too much about mic’s mom other than her connections to major life events and the record itself, we can assume they grew apart in one way or another. the key difference is that drowsy finds a happy relationship for herself and retains her bond with janet, unlike what we’re led to assume mom was like.

further elaborating on the drowsy chaperone representing mic’s ideal fantasy version of events is the wedding the drowsy chaperone’s plot centers around. here’s a list of the things that didn’t stop that damn wedding:

- a minister not showing up

- the groom cheating on the bride with the bride

- the bride having a complete mental breakdown

- indirect mafia interference

- direct mafia interference

on the flip side, what little mic says about his wedding indicates it sucked absolute ass. he spent the entire ceremony in internal distress as he went through with a life changing event he, at that point, knew at least a bit that he didn’t want. I think he also implies he had severe diarrhea on the wedding day? it gets worse when you realize mic’s relationship before the wedding wasn’t any good for him either - he was playing along the whole time because it would be cruel not to, right?

throughout the show, mic is pretty clearly shown as an extremely repressed gay man. there are five specific instances that point at romantic and/or sexual attraction to men directly and another moment outside of his commentary that pretty much confirms it if you look a little bit deeper. thus, here is what I propose - to mic, the drowsy chaperone’s wedding plot represents a world where he was able to ignore that part of himself and have a happy marriage with his wife despite all the overwhelming obstacles thrown at him. however, bits and pieces of that internalized homophobia manage to show themselves throughout the drowsy chaperone anyway despite its happy ending. here’s a rundown on a few significant instances:

- by the end of the show, the “pastry chefs”, who had literally been planning to kill feldzeig, have left their life of crime to perform with him. this symbolizes how in mic’s ideal world he would have been able to turn away from what he perceived at the time as living wrongly - his homosexuality

- at the same time, the “pastry chefs” have this line, spoken in regards to janet: “if she gets married and leaves the show... there ain’t no show.” this is a take on mic’s subconscious concern that he might lose himself if he goes on with his marriage pretending everything is alright - of course, as we already know, he doesn’t listen

- “cold feets” is a pretty obvious instance of mic’s hesitation

- aldolpho’s line in spanish regarding the wife who won’t touch him flips to reflect on mic’s treatment of his own ex wife - she was alien to him as a lover, just as aldolpho was to this woman

- janet recalls her meeting robert at a point in the show and states “we spooned, briefly, then he proposed.” though mic’s relationship pre marriage was much longer than that, it must have felt that way to him - just as quick and nonsensical as janet describes

- just as janet is caught in showbiz but has a toxic love for it, so does mic with his own repressed life

- janet has a line in “show off” that alludes to her experiencing harassment/assault: “I don’t wanna be cheered no more/ praised no more/ grabbed no more/ touched no more/ loved no more” , which I believe represents the way mic perceived his intimacy with his wife - labeled as love yet unenjoyable for him

- “I look into his eyes... I get all woozy. and that’s... love, isn’t it?” is another very clear nod to mic’s misconception of love based off the only thing he’s ever experienced, relationships with women he’s had to fake

- this is the part where I tell you the lyrics to toledo surprise are a metaphor for actively suppressing gay thoughts. I’ll just leave you with “if it tries to rise; don’t let it”. these lyrics are not comprehensive enough to make a dish - trust me, I have tried. it’s also notable that they serve a double entendre as instructions on how to beat the shit out of someone, but several lyrics are also directed towards the singer/audience. for example: “it’s a snap/ try it folks/ whip your whites/ split your yolks” is an easy metaphor for the unhealthy mental gymnastics required to repress oneself so wholeheartedly

it’s also worth noting the obvious just for the sake of it - mic copes with all this by isolating himself in a safe spot where he can use musicals to escape and live his ideal fantasy, even if it’s only for a short time. there are plenty of nods to this throughout the drowsy chaperone as well. in “as we stumble along” drowsy notes that “the best that we can do is hope a bluebird/ will sing a song/ as we stumble along” - to mic, musicals are his bluebird. while mic mostly indulges in these fantasies, he knows to a certain extent the sheer amount of time he’s spending in them is unhealthy. the first line of the show is “I hate theatre” and I think that to an extent? he does. obviously mic loves theatre as a concept, that can’t be denied. what he hates is the way he’s allowed it to confine him.

with all that out of the way, let’s move on to the most important moment of the show. if you’ve ever seen the show, you’ll know exactly which scene I’m talking about immediately. I’m referring to, of course, the infamous “l-ve while you can” scene. as janet stands at the alter she asks drowsy for one final word of advice, which is partially obscured by aldolpho dropping his cane. “l-ve while you can.” it’s a simple moment, but mic reveals to us that he’s been agonizing over it for years - did drowsy say “live” or “leave”? it occurs to everyone eventually, whether a couple days after the show like with me, or years after like with bob martin’s replacement on broadway that the most likely answer is that she had said “love while you can”. it’s this moment, when you realize why mic had never seen that as an option, that the drowsy chaperone’s status as a musical within a comedy within a tragedy is solidified. mic had no love in his life - his parents hated each other and he was forcing himself into relationships in which he felt nothing. to him, living and leaving were options, but loving never was. so he locked himself away.

as the final note on the record is playing, all power in mic’s apartment shuts down and the fantasy is ruined. the superintendent arrives and further invades his space, breaking the private sanctity he had built up for so long. she fixes the power and before mic can stop it from happening, the final note of the record plays. and the super recognizes it as a musical. she makes a remark about how much her wife loves musicals and leaves, completely unaware of what she’s just done.

mic sits in silence for a while. and then he begins to sing. gradually, the cast members begin to echo their songs, dancing around him but never touching him. then drowsy appears and sings harmony to mic. and she takes his hands. the show ends with the entire cast, including mic, taking off on trix’s airplane as the curtain falls, drowsy handing mic his record as the plane takes off.

some people interpret the ending as mic committing suicide, finally deciding between live and leave. I don’t personally believe that and neither does writer and original mic bob martin, but it’s still a valid interpretation. the drowsy chaperone’s ending is ambiguous, yes, but not to that extent. no matter what you believe the ending means, it was brought on not by the interruption of the fantasy, but by whatever realization the super’s remark about her wife triggered. as I see it, there are two main options here.

option one - mic realizes he still has time to live and to love. when he was younger the prospect of living as himself was unthinkable to him, yet now he sees that while he was spending countless years alone the world grew. drowsy offers mic her hand, an invitation to finally become what he had admired in her - someone who isn’t anywhere near perfect, but is damn well trying and living life without regret. he accepts.

option two - mic realizes that while he spent years alone the world moved on without him and he’s isolated himself so much from social interaction that he’d no longer be able to make a meaningful connection with anyone outside. so he stays inside instead, never trying, always trapped between live and leave. drowsy offers mic her hand - at least he’ll have a tune to carry with him.

I really want to believe we got option one. I think option one is the intended, really, given mic ends the show with a joyful goodbye to the audience. but the way that the ending is still left open for interpretation makes it so that we can never really know - we as the audience only get to be privy to a small part of mic’s life, and we don’t get the answers we want because at the end of the day they’re irrelevant to us - all we can do is make our own choice.

[marvelyningreen]

Aftershocks - Night 2

Night 1 | Night 2 | Night 3 | (deleted scene)

[Summary: Peter Maximoff is an unflappable sorta guy. He’d never let anything get to him before, and this recent misadventure will be no different. ...Right?

Warnings: mild language, alcohol use, references to injury & false imprisonment, general trauma-related angst

Notes: Peter Maximoff x reader, of the established relationship variety. A ‘what if Fietro really was Peter?’ scenario. Same continuity/reader character from Linger and Late-bloomer. ]

On the second night, Kurt and Jubilee organize a party. It’s sort of a ‘welcome back’ for Peter, and a ‘welcome in general’ for Wanda and the twins.

It’s awfully sweet of them. And you’re impressed that they’ve managed to order in enough food for everyone on such short notice.

Peter had been busy for most of the day. He’d volunteered to help the professor and continue playing tour guide for Wanda and the kids. You’d offered to help, too, but Peter insisted that you should take it easy. He’s probably right, much as you’d hated to admit it. There’s no way you could’ve kept up with him and two energetic kids.

And that’s how you ended up spending the most of the morning in the lab with Hank.

In true Hank fashion, he had tons of questions, and you did your best to answer them. There are still quite a few things you don’t fully understand yourself.

The revelation that other realities exist is wild to begin with. A world where mutants don’t exist but magic does sounds like a work of fiction. And then there’s the fact that Wanda’s from someplace called ‘Sokovia?’ As far as you and Hank could figure, that country has never existed in your world.

Hank’s scientific curiosity was focused on trying to wrap his head around how Wanda’s powers worked, and how they could’ve caused Captain Rambeau to spontaneously develop powers of her own. You weren’t able to be much help there, but once Hank gets himself hypothesizing, he could talk for hours with no input from anyone else.

Eventually, you brought up your concerns about Peter and his odd lapses in memory. Hank’s brows furrowed pensively as he listened.

“Well, I can tell you there’s nothing physically wrong with Peter,” he said. “I could ask him to let me examine him again, but if the issue isn’t a physical one, that might just make things worse. If you’re really worried about him, my advice is to talk to Charles.”

You sighed. “And he’s busy showing Wanda around.”

Which was exactly where Peter would be, so no chance to talk to the professor without him noticing. Hank stood up, patting your shoulder.

“Listen, I know I’m not great company when I’m focused on work,” he said, “But you’re welcome to stay here while you wait.”

“Thanks,” you said. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

You’d actually spent a lot of time down in the lab since your reality warping abilities had fully manifested. Hank was fascinated by getting to witness them in person, and the fact that you’d used them to save his life probably had something to do with it.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching out your injured leg a little. It didn’t take Hank long to get so immersed in his work that he started thinking aloud to himself, trying to work out some complicated chemical reaction.

Your thoughts drifted back to Peter. He’d seemed distracted that morning, almost distant. You tried to think what caused it – if something had happened, or even if there was something you’d said…? But you couldn’t think of anything.

Maybe it’d had something to do with his dream. But no, he said he didn’t remember it. Maybe – and you were grasping at straws by this point – he was embarrassed that you’d seen it? That could be. Peter was a pretty open guy, and you hadn’t thought that machismo was one of his faults, but it’s a possibility.

Oh. Oh, damn it all – you’d done it again. You weren’t sure when your eyes had closed, or when you’d leaned your head back against the chair. Hank was still talking to himself-

Only no, he wasn’t. There was a second voice answering him now. Upon lifting your head, you noticed that Hank’s jacket was folded under it as a makeshift pillow. You blinked in the brightness of the lab, looking around to see where the conversation was coming from.

Hank and the professor broke off as they noticed you stirring. Hank smiled apologetically.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” he explained. “You looked so tired. I figured you could use the rest.”

“Apparently I did. Sorry about that,” you said, sitting up straight in the chair again. “What time is it?”

“Just after noon,” said the professor. “We decided to break for lunch, so Peter’s showing them the kitchens. Now, Hank tells me that something’s troubling you.”

“It’s Peter, sir,” you said. You went over everything once more – the diminishing memories of Westview, the nightmare. “Maybe I’m making a big deal out of nothing, but… I don’t know. What if something that witch did is still affecting him?”

The professor had listened carefully while you spoke. You thought that he looked a little concerned, but you might’ve imagined it, because when you finished, he smiled.

“Thank you for coming to me with this,” he said, “But I have a feeling you’re not going to like my answer.”

You grimaced. “You’re going to tell me to wait and see, aren’t you.”

You’re well aware that this was the sort of thing the professor said when he was being evasive. He laughed.

“You’re a quick learner,” he said. “I will tell you that I truly believe Peter will be fine. If anything changes or worsens, don’t hesitate to bring it to my attention. But until that time, I’m leaving him in your care. I know I can rely on you.”

You gaze drifted to the floor, and you frowned slightly. Of course the professor could count on you to look after Peter. But how on earth were you supposed to help if you don’t know what’s going on?

If Peter had been physically hurt, that’s something you could fix. You were out of your depth here. Useless. Just like old times.

“None of that, if you please,” said the professor, in response to your thoughts. “Do you think I’d be leaving this in your hands if I didn’t think you were up to the task? Now, I’ve already told Peter that, as of today, he’s taking some mandatory time off, and the same goes for you. No missions for a while. You’re to get some rest and look after yourself. Understood?”

That surprised you. But before you could attempt to get anything more out of the professor, the door opened to admit Peter and the other Maximoffs. Peter’s face brightened as he caught sight of you.

“I figured you’d be down here,” he said. “And I also figured you probably didn’t eat lunch yet. Was I right? Yeah, I thought so. Which is why I brought lunch to you.”

“You know the rules,” Hank interrupted. “No food in the lab, Peter.”

Peter grinned, rolling his eyes, as he helped you to your feet.

“Alright, alright – we’re going,” he said.

Saying that you looked like you could use some daylight, Peter led you out of the lab to find somewhere to eat your lunch. He seemed cheerful and normal enough, and not, y’know, like he was avoiding you or something. You started to wonder if maybe you really were imagining things.

It was easy enough not to bring up the inconclusive conversation you’d had with the professor. The twins were bursting to tell somebody that there was going to be a party, and that it was gonna be their first party ever.

So far, it seems to be going well. The twins are already making friends among the younger students. Wanda still seems a little reserved – understandably – but the professor sticks close to her to make introductions and keep her company.

You’d like a chance to talk to her yourself, but maybe now isn’t the time. A party can be something of an overwhelming environment, especially now that you’ve been informed that you’re actually one of the guests of honor.

You probably should’ve seen this coming. You’re the one who took on a solo rescue mission, after all. Kurt sheepishly admits that they purposefully hadn’t told you that part because they figured you wouldn’t come if you knew. He is correct.

But Peter’s in his element as the life of the party – and he’s tipsy almost instantly. It’s one of the quirks of his mutant metabolism; alcohol hits him fast. Fortunately, drunk Peter is just an amped-up version of his usual cheerful and chaotic personality. You’re not much of a partier, yourself, so you’re content to enjoy his antics from the sidelines.

Which is what you’re doing when Jubilee sidles up to you.

“Okay, you have to tell me everything,” she says. “I mean, getting to go to another reality? What was it like?”

You laugh. “You’ve gotta be the fifth person to ask me that. Peter was there longer than I was.”

“But Peter doesn’t remember any of it,” she says, “And it’d be rude to ask Wanda a bunch of questions when we’ve only just met, so that leaves you. Now, spill.”

You satisfy Jubilee’s curiosity as best you can, but something she said strikes you as strange. Peter doesn’t remember anything about Westview? That doesn’t seem right.

When Captain Rambeau broke that mind control necklace, Peter didn’t seem confused or anything, just… Well, if you had to describe it, you’d say he looked horrified. And after he made sure that you were okay, the first thing he’d said was that the twins might still be in danger and that you all had to help them.

Then again, he’d let Wanda do all the explaining to the professor and Mr. Lehnsherr. And you’d gotten the rundown from that astrophysicist, Dr. Lewis, after she finished grumbling about being the exposition fairy, whatever that meant.

And Peter lives for being the center of attention. Overlooked and underappreciated for much of his life, a party like this is exactly the sort of validation he craves. If there was a chance for him to tell his story to a rapt audience, he’d jump at it.

So… maybe Peter really doesn’t remember anything. Maybe the whole thing is like a dream for him. The further away from it that he gets, the less clear the memory is.

When the party starts to wind down, the same can’t be said for Peter. Just as you’re trying to work out how on earth you’re going to corral him, Logan catches your eye.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get him,” he says.

You grin. “I thought you said that he’s my problem now.”

“He is. But that knee’s not gonna help you carry his ass upstairs.” Logan drains the last of his drink and calls across the room. “Alright, kid! Time to pack it in!”

Peter waves, takes an unsteady step towards you, and manages to run smack into Logan a split second later. Logan shoots you an exasperated look.

“What’d I tell you?” he says.

Logan manages to keep Peter upright as you head upstairs, but keeping him quiet is another thing entirely. Peter spends the entire walk explaining to Logan – in fumbling but earnest detail – all the ways in which you are the most amazing person he has ever met.

When Logan gets a word in edgewise, it’s to inform you that Peter’s been doing this all evening to anybody who would listen, and even to the people who wouldn’t. You’re honestly not sure if you feel more flattered or mortified.

At long last, you reach Peter’s door, and Logan props him up against the doorframe.

“Alright, he’s officially your problem again,” he says. “Goodnight.”

“G’night, old-timer!” Peter calls, waving off your attempts to shush him. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse.”

He opens the door and nearly tumbles back into the room. He catches himself, clearing his throat as he straightens up.

“I meant to do that,” he says.

You shake your head, trying to bit back a grin. Once the door is closed behind you, you steer Peter towards the bed and sit him down. He takes hold of your hands.

“Listen. Listen. I have to tell you something.” He struggles to turn his bleary expression serious. “I love you, so much. You just… I love you, okay?”

Is it wrong that you find this slurred profession of love incredibly heartwarming? You smile at Peter, leaning down to kiss him.

“I know,” you say softly. “I love you, too. But you gotta get some sleep now, okay?”

Peter nods, frowning slightly for some reason.

“I know, I know,” he says.

He flops back onto the bed, mumbling something that might be lyrics to a song. And by the time you get his shoes off, he’s conked out completely.

After setting Peter’s shoes aside, you sit down on the sofa again. You know he’s fine. Sure, he’s drunk, but he’s not that drunk. But what if he needs something? Or what if he has another nightmare?

You know you shouldn’t dwell on everything, but once you start thinking about it, you find you can’t stop. You wonder what it was like for Peter, being dragged from this reality into another, having his personality forcibly rewritten.

If your experience had been unpleasant, how much worse must it have been for him?

The second you’d stepped into Westview, you were nearly overwhelmed. Some unknown power seemed to be forcing a name – not your own – onto you like a shackle around your neck. A thousand memories of a life you hadn’t lived flooded your mind. More alarming still, Peter was present in many of them. You had no idea if what you were seeing was the past, or the future, or something else entirely.

And underneath it all was a crushing, all-encompassing feeling of utter despair. It threatened to swallow you whole, and it seemed pointless to fight it.

And then – a calm, familiar presence in your mind. You remembered turning back, seeing the professor’s face as he watched you enter the portal. Suddenly, the onslaught lifted, and you were simply yourself again.

Also, you’d apparently collapsed at some point, because you were laying on the pavement with a tall blond stranger leaning over you.

He was the only person who seemed at all concerned that you’d just fainted in the middle of the street. He said his name was Vision. You introduced yourself as Ace. It was close enough to your codename that you’d remember it, and the professor had cautioned you against saying too much about where you’d come from.

But Vision seemed to recognize that there was something different about you, that you’d come from outside Westview. He was worried about his children, and his wife, and the rest of the citizens. You explained that you didn’t know what had happened to the town, and that you’d come looking for a missing friend.

You’d just agreed to try to help each other when reality seemed to bend around you, and suddenly you were sitting in a diner finishing a cup of coffee, and Vision was nowhere in sight.

The next time you saw him, the spell was ending, and he disappeared. You wish you could’ve gotten the chance to get to know him better. He seemed like a good man.

You try to put that from your mind. It’s just gonna make you sad again if you think about it for too long.

Instead, you glance over at Peter. He seems to be sleeping soundly, which is good.

But memories of Westview aren’t done with you yet.

You’ve had nightmares before about people you know acting in ways that were frighteningly unlike them. And even knowing it was all just a dream, you always felt a little uneasy the next time you’d see them. It’s the same way you feel watching Peter now.

That’s not fair; you know it isn’t. And maybe out of context, it’d sound strange to get worked up about it. But to have the person you love – the person who loves you – treat you with indifference, and get cruel enjoyment out of your pain?

That’s the stuff of nightmares.

Enough of that. You give your head a shake, like that’ll clear your thoughts somehow. It wasn’t Peter. It was the witch that was controlling him, forcing him to do all those things. You know this. It’s just lucky he hadn’t been forced to really hurt anyone.

It’s over, and Peter doesn’t remember what it was like, and that’s probably for the best.

Still, as you watch him sleep, you find yourself so badly wanting to hold him that it almost makes your chest ache. Peter hasn’t just been distant emotionally since Westview.

Since you’d started dating, Peter was a source of constant casual physical affection. Whenever you were together, he’d always have his arm around you, or be holding your hand, or sit close enough that his leg was pressed against yours. You hadn’t realized how much you’d gotten used to it – grown to expect it, even – until it’s suddenly absent.

Having be so withdrawn from you now, well… It hurts, if you’re being honest, especially since you don’t know why, and you don’t know how to help.

But there’s nothing you can do about it at this moment. And, since Peter doesn’t look to be having any more nightmares, it’s probably time for you to go. You ease yourself onto your feet, just now noticing how stiff your knee has gotten after standing around all evening at the party.

You limp as quietly as you can towards the door – and proceed to trip over Peter’s shoes.

You yelp in pain as your knee twists and you go crashing to the floor. You grit your teeth, trying not to swear.

And suddenly the lights are on in the room, and Peter’s kneeling beside you.

“What happened?” he asks. “Are you okay?”

That’s right. As fast as Peter gets drunk, he sobers up just as quickly. He looks present and alert at the moment, if a little worried.

“I tripped over the damn shoes,” you answer. “I’m fine, I think. I just-”

You break off, wincing, as you try to straighten out your leg. Damn it. Is it possible to double-sprain something? Because that’s what it feels like.

“Hang on,” says Peter. “Let me help.”

He doesn’t take your hands and help you stand up, like you’re expecting. Instead, he loops your arm around his shoulders and scoops you up bridal-style. The fact that he doesn’t use his superspeed almost disorients you more than if he had.

At a normal pace, he walks back and sets you down not on the sofa, but on his bed. He blurs for just a second, but that’s only to stack up his pillows to give you something to lean against.

As you gingerly straighten out your leg, Peter reaches out – to try to help, you suppose – then lets his hands fall in his lap.

“Thanks,” you say.

Peter frowns worriedly. “Can’t you do the…?”

He makes a gesture like he’s laying on hands or something, which confuses you for a second before you catch his meaning.

“Oh, I can’t do the healing stuff on myself,” you say. “Or at least I don’t know how yet. I gotta heal the old-fashioned way.”

You give him a wry smile. It could be worse, after all. You could’ve actually broken something. Peter doesn’t seem very reassured.

“I should get Hank,” he says.

“No, don’t!” you say as quickly as you can. “It’s not that bad. I’ll go to him in the morning, if I need to.”

No sense in dragging the poor man out of bed if it’s not an emergency. Unconvinced, Peter bites his lip.

“If you’re sure,” he says reluctantly, “But… Don’t move, okay? I’m gonna get you some ice.”

He’s gone. And then he’s back, holding a couple icepacks and a towel. You reach down to take the knee-brace off, but Peter swats your hands away. Why on earth-?

“Would you stop that?” he says, perching on the edge of the bed. “I’m trying to nurse you back to health here.”

You laugh in spite of yourself. “Always the romantic.”

“Yeah, well, that’s why you like me.”

He’s not wrong. Peter flashes you a grin, and it’s so cheerful and unguarded and normal that it’s startling. This boy is gonna give you whiplash yet; you’re sure of it.

But then he looks down again to focus on the task at hand. He’s extraordinarily gentle as he undoes the brace and settles the icepacks on and around your knee. You want to turn his face towards you and kiss him, but you don’t. He must have some reason for keeping his distance.

As he’s finishing up, he finally speaks.

“I’m… I’m kinda afraid to ask, honestly, but how did you get hurt? It wasn’t- I mean,” Peter exhales forcefully, and hesitates before asking: “Was it me?”

His big, dark eyes meet yours, and the distress in his face nearly breaks your heart.

“What? No! Of course it wasn’t you,” you say.

Peter seems to relax a little, but still has that troubled look in his eyes. He really doesn’t remember, does he? You did get into a scuffle with him while he was still under mind control, and he had ended up knocking you down, but it hadn’t hurt you any more than tripping on the sidewalk would’ve. Also… this doesn’t seem like the right time to mention that part of the story. You hurry to explain.

“It was that witch – Agnes, or Agatha, or whatever her name is,” you say. “She couldn’t send me back, and she couldn’t get in my head, so she dumped me in the Westview Hospital psych ward.”

Peter’s jaw drops. “She what?”

“I mean, it wasn’t like a horror story hospital or anything,” you clarify. “It was actually a pretty nice place, aside from the fact that they wouldn’t let me leave because they thought I was dissociating and suffering from delusions. Which is exactly what what’s-her-name was counting on.”

Peter nods slowly, evidently more confused and no less concerned. “Okay… that explains where you were, but it doesn’t explain how you got hurt.”

“Oh, right. When I wasn’t able to talk my way out, I had to use my powers to get a window open. Only…” you wince at the memory. “My powers didn’t fully work in Westview, and the window was on the second floor. So when I jumped out of it, gravity did exactly what it’s supposed to do.”

Peter presses a hand to his mouth. Okay, this explanation is clearly making things worse.

“And then – okay, this isn’t funny, but it’s kinda funny. It was suddenly Halloween, so the streets were all covered in people and I had to hide, so I crawled into somebody’s hedges. Problem is, they spotted me and came over to see what was going on. So I told them,” you snort involuntarily just remembering it, “I told them that I was dressed up as a zombie, but it’s okay, I’m hiding in their hedge because I’m a method actor. And somehow, they bought it.”

You end your rambling with an awkward laugh, but it dies almost immediately. The anecdote didn’t mollify Peter even a little bit. Maybe you should’ve mentioned the part where you had to steal clothes off a scarecrow? … No, that probably wouldn’t have helped either.

Brows furrowed, eyes still troubled, he stares down at his hands. “You could’ve gone back. Why didn’t you go back?”

“Peter, I went to Westview to bring you home,” you say. “I wasn’t going to leave you behind.”

Although, now that he mentions it, going back for reinforcements probably would’ve been the smart thing to do. It honestly never occurred to you at the time. You were so focused on rescuing Peter that you couldn’t think of anything else.

For someone who allegedly doesn’t remember anything, Peter looks awfully distressed.

“Peter…?” you say, softly, “Are you alright?”

Before he can answer, you shiver violently, startling yourself as much as Peter, and completely breaking the moment.

“Sorry,” you say. “It’s the icepacks. I should probably get going soon, since I’m already cold.”

Peter blinks, and suddenly the shadow seems to lift from his mood. He’s bright and brisk again, taking the icepacks off of your knee.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says. “You’re not gonna go limping around in the cold in the middle of the night. You’ll end up getting sick on top of everything. You can stay here. No, don’t get up. I’ll crash on the couch this time.”

He’s really taking this ‘nurse you back to health’ thing seriously, isn’t he? Even if he’s just playing at it, it’s still kinda sweet. You can’t help but smile a little.

“How very Jane Austen of you,” you say.

Peter snorts. “That’s gotta be the nerdiest compliment anyone’s ever given me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

As he finishes setting aside the icepacks, he turns back to face you.

“Now,” he says, “Is there anything else you need?”

Half-smiling, he looks at you with those big dark eyes, and you can’t help yourself. You lean forward, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him into a crushing embrace. You know it might make you look clingy, but you don’t care.

You’re fully prepared to pull away just as fast, but Peter’s arms fold around you almost instantly. He nestles his cheek against your head, gently stroking your hair.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

When you finally do pull back, Peter smiles down at you, tilting his head slightly.

“I’m not going anywhere, alright?” he says. “I promise.”

He kisses your forehead, and helps you arrange the pillows and settle in for the night. After extracting a promise that you’ll wake him up if you need something, he retreats to the couch.

The familiar scent of Peter’s cologne lingers reassuringly on his pillows. He’s not going anywhere, you tell yourself. The person who took him is in no position to cause him any more harm.

So why does it feel like part of him is still gone?

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Club Takamagahara (Part 1) Z

This is probably going to be the hardest to shove the MC into to be honest. But I think my premise is good, but let me know what you think!

MC sat on the edge of a mossy cliff that was covered in scrubby, grey grass. Rocks were patched with bright orange lichen that were splashed on like paint. The sea was blue with fresh melt water from the ice caps that defrosted, a pale blue that didn’t quite reflect the sky. You learned that it was the minerals from the earth that gave the sea this unique color. The breeze caressed your dark hair and drew it across your face.

You’re back in Black Swan Bay in midsummer. You feel that it should be night, but like the winter months were dark with the sun never rising, in summer, the sun never set and the sky was always bright. Most people would never understand how a place like this could be so familiar when for them it was like living on an alien planet, but for you, even though the sky was always brilliant in the summer, you could tell the time of day by the level of light in the sky, a technique acquired by someone who grew up with exposure to an eternal day.

You’re not alone. Boots crunched in the pea gravel and approached. They were black, and lined with fur and half covered with a long, black fur lined coat worn by a young man a few years younger than you. He sat down, stretching one leg in front of him and resting one arm on his knee.

He had dark hair like you, but his eyes were a bright gold in his pale face. You always thought they were beautiful eyes, but now you understood what they meant. He had dragon blood flowing in his veins. He turned to look at you.

You remembered him being reclusive, not talking to you much unless it was to exchange witty banter. He was relaxed, always smiling cryptically, never bothered by the nurses or the rules, but never really getting into any trouble either. He knew your name when you met despite never having met you before. He reached up and brushed your hair back with one gloved hand to tuck it behind your ear.

Your expression goes deadpan. “I’m not dead, am I, Z.”

The golden eyed boy’s expression reflects surprise and then breaks into a hearty laugh. He covers his face with one hand while you watch him try to get control of himself, a warm feeling spreading in your chest that teases a smile out of you. 

Z finally stopped laughing and sighed wistfully, looking out over the ocean. “I missed you.”

He turned to you again with a look that was affectionate but calculating, like he was holding in a secret but barely. “No, you’re not dead.”

Your smile fades and you turn back to the ocean. “Why not?”

Z reached to one side of him and lifted a thick book in black leather. On the cover, a golden cross was embossed on it, but the cross didn’t look like a crucifix. Instead, it appeared to be on fire, with the flames appearing to be like a dragon’s wings. Z lifted the golden ribbon that marked a spot near the beginning.

He read from the book, his voice rose over the wind and the crashing waves. “And in very deed for this cause have I raised thee up, for to show in thee my power…”

“You’re doing this?” 

Z clapped the book shut and it vanished in a haze of golden dust. “I can’t explain everything. The pieces are not in place yet and it won’t make any sense to you. You won’t understand until the very end. That said, I can’t do everything. You had a very close call. So I wanted to warn you not to be too reckless.”

You sit up straight. “You’re alive? Where are you, Z?”

“I am alive but… Like I said, you won’t understand. Just be more careful. Alright?” He’s staring at you seriously. Back in Black Swan Bay, most people ignored his existence, but you felt he was calling you, drawing you to him for some unknown reason. At times, he would just appear next to you, like he was following you around like a ghost. And now you feel lost in those eyes once again in this strange dream world.

“Okay. I promise.”

“Promises are meaningless.” He shook his head. “Just do it.”

You nod again. “Can I ask you one more thing?”

“One more, hurry.”

“Why me of all people? Why not Renata or Vera? Or Anton or...”

“Because you were the strongest … second to Renata.” The world started to go dark, like a curtain was falling over the sea, the rocks and the grass. The wind grew still and you felt a bit stuffy and tired. Soon all you could see were those golden eyes.

“And well… you make me laugh.”

You relax into the darkness and for a moment your mind goes blank. But then your mind revives again. “...was that a Roger Rabbit reference?”

“Dammit, MC! Wake up!” He says in a harsh whisper.

Your eyes open wide. Lu Mingfei - not Z - is leaning over your head, appearing upside down in your view, arms on either side of your face. You blink wearily. “Mingfei?” Your voice is hoarse coming out a dry and scratchy throat. 

He puts one finger to your lips. “Shhh… You’ve got to stay quiet. No one knows you’re here!” He’s wearing very fancy clothes, the type of suits you see in photos of weddings and official events from magazines that depict life in Moscow. A black suit, a button down shirt with a stiff collar. Diamond studded earrings were in his ears. His hair was swept back and gelled. "If you keep moaning like that you'll get discovered! The walls are very thin and if you’re discovered we’ll be in BIG trouble!" Lu Mingfei was indeed keeping his whisper very quiet.

You’re surrounded by walls on all sides of you, made of dark wood paneling and covered by shelving from floor to ceiling. Your bed takes up the rest of the space. In fact, Mingfei is leaning over you like this because he can’t squeeze his legs between the narrow space between the bed and those shelves. As you look up at him, you can’t help but notice Mingfei’s resemblance to Z. Perhaps if Z had grown older and been able to eat more, he would have grown as tall as Mingfei.

You examine the curve of his eyes and the lift of his nose and squint. You didn’t notice this before because Mingfei does look different, he talks differently, and he acts differently. He doesn’t give off Z’s mysterious, mischievous, and dangerous aura. Z always looked like he had something up his sleeve. It could be good or bad and you didn’t know until you had it in your hand. The way he talked made you want to know however.

Lu Mingfei always looked fearful, reactionary and caught off guard. If Z was the prankster, Lu Mingfei was the pranked. So it was no wonder that you never noticed the physical similarities between someone so different until you woke up from one face to another face.

He sighed, hanging his head. When he looked up again, deep concern was reflected in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I seriously thought you were a goner.. If we hadn’t been picked up and taken somewhere they had a nice kit, you probably would have died out there on the street.”

He lifted your hand. A clear IV tube was running from it to a bag of fluid hanging from a hook nailed into one of the shelves. “Where am I?”

“I.. '' Lu Mingfei’s lips pulled down and he looked ill. “Ugh. It’s better you see for yourself. I don't even know how to begin.”

“Caesar?”

“Oh, he’s fine. And so is Senpai. I’m the one suffering here!” He whispered, casting his eyes to one side bitterly. 

He held a clean cloth to your hand, and removed the IV and bandaged it. “I’ll give you the rundown of the situation because we’re seriously up a creek. The Hydras are labeling us as dangerous foreign terrorists, gangsters, and everything else under the sun. They’re running the news to look out for us 24/7. If we show our faces anywhere we are absolutely doomed. They have the whole country after us. We can’t use any credit cards, we’ve lost contact with the college and as soon as we try to get into contact with them, Kaguya is on us like a ton of bricks.”

Ton of bricks. The phrase reminds you of the fact that you managed to get a bootleg copy of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit'' and watched it over and over on a TV hidden in a shed. If you could get your chores done quickly, you could watch the movie there without being noticed. “Mingfei… have you ever seen ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit?’ Do you like it?”

“What? Are you feverish?” He put one hand to your forehead. “Please try to focus! This is important! None of us can touch the network because we’re traceable. Except you!”

“Me?”

“Yes. You’re the only one of us with zero internet presence. You’ve never had so much as an email. Almost all the information on you is held by EVA and not even Kaguya can breach her system so you’re more likely to be able to log in and find some way to contact the College without getting caught, so we need you to stay safe. Got it?”

“Yes, Senpai. I understand.” You nod. Z’s warning to you in a dream seemed even more relevant now. He was protecting you by some form of mystic way, but the danger now was so great that even he had to warn you to be careful. 

Mingfei stared at your deferential response in shock. “Are you sure you’re alright? I expected you to sneer at me.”

“It’s just… you remind me of someone else just now.” You whisper, you lower your eyes. “I’m sorry if I made trouble with you. I had to do it. I’m glad you’re okay. I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

Mingfei took a deep breath. “We’re all grateful for you too, MC. So don’t worry about anything. Senpai told the boss about what you did in the Trieste. He owes you twice now. There’s no way he’d rat you out in the reports. You’re fine with everyone, okay?”

“Even Zihang?”

“Zihang doesn’t take anything personal.”

There’s a stiff knock on a door beyond the closet. “Little Sakura! You’re needed on the floor!”

Mingfei turned around, his voice squeaking loudly. “Coming!”  He turned back to you. “Okay, can you walk?”

He helped you up out of bed. You were wearing a thin nightgown and your feet were a bit wobbly but you could stand on your own. 

“Good, Caesar prepped some clothes for you, but I suggest you stay down here for now. I have to go back to work.”

“Work?”

More knocking. “Little Sakura?”

“Why are they calling you that?” You whisper. 

Lu Mingfei growled low. “Why is my life so terrible all the time? I don’t know!” He returned his eyes to you. “Stay here okay? The Boss will be back once his shift is over.”

He hurried out of the closet. You notice he’s wearing some sort of shiny loafers. The type worn without socks. 

You hear a sliding door open and then shut and then the murmur of a television. Once you were sure everything was quiet, save the very muffled beat of music somewhere above the ceiling, you venture out. 

You peer out from the closet into what looked like a bathroom with wood paneled walls and a tiled floor. Three barrels with metal bottoms were suspended over wood fired stoves. A shower was in one corner. The TV in the other corner was on, likely to mask any noise you might have made while you were unconscious. A woman was sitting behind a desk, speaking Japanese, dressed in smart business attire. It looked like a newsreel of the destruction of Chizuru -- the wrecked streets, the firetrucks and the body bags. 

You start to think maybe you overdid things a bit. Your eyes scan over the date. You’ve been out cold for 3 whole days.

On top of the TV was a small comb that looked to be made of real ivory and adorned with a blue jeweled flower. Underneath was an envelope with your name on it. Inside the envelope was a note. “I hope the offer of lessons over sake still stands.”

You smile. Of course it did.

Hanging behind the TV was another cheongsam, this time, silver and blue with embroidery of flowers. There’s also fishnet stockings and a pair of blue heels. You take the dress off the rack and step into the shower. Once you were dressed you listened hard to the sounds outside the hall and heard footsteps. 

Another knock. And there’s a shouted warning before the door slides open. A short old woman is holding a mop and walks by you as you press yourself to the wall. She’s pulling a pile of logs on a cart. Her ears are stuffed with earbuds and she’s so focused on her work that she walks right by you on the way to the rack where the wood for the stove is held. 

Heart racing, you dash out the door.

Outside is a European style promenade, completely different decor, but with the same level of luxury. The floor was covered with golden teak wood. The walls were covered with paintings of naked young people drawing water from a well. The ceiling hung with crystal chandeliers, one after another.

“Wow.” You whisper.

At the end of the corridor was an elevator with wooden doors inlaid with swirling bronze motifs of ferns. You’re supposed to stay put, but so much for that! You probably couldn’t be seen out in the hall! You pressed the only button available on the elevator - Up - and school your face cool to pretend you belong there.

Already a story is in your head, you’re an heiress to a fabulous estate. You’re orphaned at a young age and just gained your freedom to escape your stuffy household! As the elevator rises, the sound of the bassline of the music gets stronger and stronger.

Your mind is still writing your backstory when the wooden doors part and you’re hit by the bass line full force. The heat from hundreds of bouncing and gyrating bodies rushes into the elevator. Right in front of you, a man is holding up a flute of that golden sparkling liquor - Champagne. His shirt has puffy sleeves and open to reveal dark curly hairs on his muscular chest. He’s surrounded by three women in colorful half masks who are climbing on him, grabbing his hands to get at the champagne. They were all wearing skin tight, sleeveless, low cut dresses and dangerously high stiletto heels that made your demure blue cheongsam look like a formal maid’s outfit in comparison.

“Ladies! Ladies! One at a time!” He’s shouting with a brilliant smile. One of the girls bares her teeth as if she were trying to bite him and you move away.

A crowd of people, women outnumbering men 10 to 1, were all dancing in front of a brightly lit stage that was smoking with dry-ice that poured over the edge.

The elevator doors start to close and you slip out, looking for Lu Mingfei - that is, Little Sakura. Everywhere is more of the same. There’s a circular couch where drunk women were reclining over another man while holding out money for passing waiters who seem to know what it meant. They took the cash from their delicate painted fingers and passed them another bottle of liquor in exchange. All of the women turned, shook and then uncorked the bottle, spraying the Champagne in the air! It all fell in a shower while they laughed and squealed with glee!

You take a breath. You were going to stand out like a sore thumb unless you did something right now. The beat of the music was jarring your rib cage but people were bouncing to it while shouting on the stage. “Ukyo! Ukyo! Ukyo!”

You had no idea what Ukyo meant so you do the same all the while looking for any sign of Mingfei in this scene and realizing he might not even be on this floor.

“Who wants glitter?!” Someone shouts next to you. A man with a bowl of silver glitter holds it up while people stuff money in his low cut shirt and press their hands into the bowl to turn around and smash it into the sweaty chest of another man, leaving their marks on him. Your mind makes a leap to a story you heard about human and animal sacrifices in Satanism and wondering if that was what was going to happen next.

You also realize you don’t have any money. Your voice is trained by terrible punishment to be quiet so you can only let out a weak little “Woo..” and “Yay… Ukyou” while your eyes search the crowd.

What happened next was that the music suddenly ended and the sound of a Asian music, something you might hear played in a period drama, replaced it. Rather than being subdued, the crowd flooded the quiet with screams so loud your ears rattled and you had to fight to keep your hands from covering them and stand out as an outsider. 

The curtain opened and there stood a lone figure on the stage. The lights all went out, leaving a single spotlight descending to illuminate him. He’s in a white cloak with flowy sleeves, with a blue hakama and long hair that covers half his face. Cherry blossoms blow from an unseen fan, fluttering his sleeves in the wind.

[my-writings-and-musings]

hey! so idk if you write platonic relationships but if you do, could you write something about whirl asking someone to be his amica endura? i just. i need more whirl love in my life and GODDAMN i love the way you write him sm gshdjf,,, thank you!! <33

I miiiiggghhht have gone a little overboard on this one and made it more of a short story than an answer... But I hope you like it! Thank you so much for the compliment, I do try my best to write Whirley well!

Whirl doesn't like to let fear boss him around. Ordinarily that's easy enough to accomplish, he's a big bot and threatening his life is a great way to end yours, and any threat he can't kill (for moral or legal reasons) can usually be ignored out of existence. As a result he's had very little to be afraid of these past few millennia, and he's even perfected his reflexes to the point he can quickly judge what reaction is warranted whenever that creeping feeling returns, meaning it never lasts more than a few minutes tops. It's a solid strategy, and the proof is that he's outlived everyone who's ever doubted it. Most of them, anyway. He's been getting sloppy since this whole quest thing.

Or more specifically, since he met you on this quest thing. The quest thing that's becoming less about the quest and more about the real treasure you've all gained along the way, which for once isn't the (many) guns he's found or the (countless) bad guy corpses he's left in the rearview mirrors.

Nope. It's you. The squishiest little air breather his optic has ever beheld, and darn the saps on this crew for rubbing off on him, because he wants to go out of his way to let you know that. Their silly insistence on honesty has made him feel like you need to know what you mean to him, and isn't that just ridiculous?

But if it's so ridiculous why was he scared? Because you could say no, damn it! You'd be silly not to! It was one thing for you to hang out with the ship's resident screw up and part time nutjob, maybe even have a drink with him, and sure you'd actually called him your friend and the two of you had looked death in the eye to insult its cataracts on more than one occasion together... But to officially declare to the crew and the universe you were Amica Endura and that you actually liked him?

You'd be mortified he even thought it was okay to ask, obviously. Then you'd wisely cut all ties and pretend you didn't know him, and he'd be left with... well, not nothing, but not much above nothing either. Worse actually now that he considered it, he'd probably be left with pain. The kind of pain you only got when you lost something, a particular experience he'd spent a very long time trying to ensure he'd never have to endure again, and he'd been doing pretty well until you showed up. But he wasn't mad at you, he was mad at himself, both for having the audacity to grow feelings and then getting soft enough to actually acknowledge them like a sap.

But facing fear was far better than the alternative. If he kept on pretending you were just another chum, that you didn't deserve the title of Amica for what you meant to him, then he'd have guilt. More guilt, to be specific, and he was already fully stocked on that. So... fear it was then. Fear and the inevitable pain that would follow when you did the only sane thing you could.

But hey, what was another mistake in the pile, right?

You'd been in your room by yourself, just relaxing an perusing the wonders of interstellar Wi-Fi, when he'd decided there literally couldn't be a better time. Some bots insisted that a proper ceremony required witnesses, but those bots couldn't judge him if there were no witnesses, now could they? Checkmate, seeing as how the two of you would definitely never speak to each other again after this... His claws had knocked on the door with as little force as he could muster, some part of him hoping you wouldn't hear and he'd have a reason to retreat, but as usual he also had to open his mouth and ruin that plan.

"Hey, Y/N, you uh... you alive in there?"

Approximating a facepalm as best he could without either half of the required components, his spark dropped when you replied with a good natured laugh, probably thinking he was just being his usual self and not making much sense. Which was true, just not in the usual way...

You'd happily opened the door with a command on your data pad, inviting him to come in and relax because you weren't up to anything anyway. Claws clacking together nervously, he'd entered with an unconvincing veneer of calm, far too worried to really pretend otherwise. Long legs carry him with slow steps, and he can't help but survey your room; he's certain this is the last time he'll ever see it. Your tiny belongings looking so ridiculously small in the Cybertronian sized living space, the ladders that have been welded to everything, gosh, is it foggy in here or is that just some emotional turmoil in his optic?

"Whirl? Are you okay?"

Of course not, but thanks for asking is what he wants to say, but a more accurate reply would involve him mentioning how things were actually really okay for a while... Until he'd started messing it all up, a process he'd be finishing up now so you could both move on with your lives.

"Oh... that's a matter of debate." He finally brings himself to say, claws firmly pinched to prevent him from any further tapping. You look more concerned than baffled, which is nice. Somehow you'd always managed to look past what he said to understand what he means. That's something he'll miss, once he finally manages to get this over with. Of course his voicebox is pitching a fit and refusing to cooperate, but it's going to be a simple series of steps once he gets it going. He'll ask you to be Amica, you'll refuse, and then he leaves. It's such a simple plan that even he can't find something to blow up in the process. Not for lack of trying, mind you...

"Is there something you need? You've been a little off lately." You said, putting aside your data pad to move to the edge of the berth. It hadn't escaped your notice that the usually loud mech had been growing quiet around you as of late, his one optic looking almost forlornly in your direction when he thought you were focused elsewhere, and so you sat and let your legs dangle off the berth to let him know you were listening. His antenna twitched backwards like a startled ear on a mammal.

"Me? Well, I'd be inclined to say..." Some half attempt at a joke died before it even could be set up, and he quickly decided the stalling had gone on long enough. If he had to endure one more second of gnawing apprehension he was going to have to destroy something exceptionally expensive to shake off the nerves, and he had just gotten his room the way he liked it. Better to go down with some dignity if he could. "You're spot on, actually. I've been off because I've got something I've gotta get off my chassis, but it's not gonna be fun for either of us. Still needs to be done though, ain't that a shame?"

Any other person on the ship would have been terrified if he'd said that to them. They'd have expected some kind of terrible bodily injury, no doubt, but you knew him better than that. You knew that if he wanted to hurt anyone it would happen as soon as he entered a room, and with something way more intimidating to kick off the fun. Instead your expression was just thoughtful, concerned, and only a little confused. "I... if it upsets you then yeah, but why do you have to do it?"

"Do you know what an Amica is?" He blurted out, the words almost hurting as they came into being. It felt like he had just struck another match, surrounded himself with fuel, and this time there'd be no interruptions.

"Amica?"

"There an echo in here?" He said dryly, unable to help jumping on the chance for an old classic. Apologetically lowering his optics, he released a quick bit of air from his vents in imitation of a cough. "Yeah, that, know what it is?"

"Sure, it's like... best friends, only way deeper, bound for life." You said, recalling it amongst the many Cybertronian terms you'd been learning these past few months. It had obviously had cultural implications and connections you just didn't have the experience to understand, but the importance of the practice had been abundantly clear from the moment you first heard of it. Chief among the things you'd been able to determine was that it carried no less weight than being a Conjunx, it was just a different kind of love.

He clicked his claws together in an imitation of an affirming snap. "That's the one. It's tough to explain to aliens, but that's the basic rundown, and there's a whole ceremony to it and everything. Did you know that?" He appreciated that you only shook your head and looked back to him for an explanation, it made it quite clear you were intent on listening as much as possible. "A bot has to ask the one who's less likely to ask, and they get to say yes or no during the ceremony. I'd imagine by now you've figured out I came here to ask you to be my Amica, start the ceremony and everything, only thing stopping me is I... just don't want to."

It was the first time he'd surprised you in a long time. There had been... well, you'd been fairly certain he was leading up to something else there, and had just been nervous. You had to repeat back what he'd said in a question for clarification. "You don't want to ask me?"

"What? No! Don't put words in the mouth I don't have!" He replied vigorously, taking a step closer to your berth and throwing up his arms in total consternation. Upon seeing your comforting near smile of reasurance, he drops his claws and holds them near his face, a gesture he typically only performs when anxious. Thoughts are beginning to run wild in his head, so he knows he'll have to wrap this up before they sidetrack him, or he'll never get it done. Bless your little fleshy fuel pump for wanting to comfort him, but there just isn't time for that. "What I'm trying to get across here, or say or whatever, is that I want to but I shouldn't..."

"Ah... why shouldn't you? Does me being a human make it... illegal?" You ask, finally getting an inkling as to what's going on. As usual, his burying of the lede means you're far less shocked than you should be now that he's actually getting to the point, but you want to use that to stay calm. Whirl has been a dear friend to you, as protective as could be from the moment he decided he liked you. The least you can do is be what he needs by letting him talk things out in a way that works for him, even if it feels so much easier to cut to the chase; you'd love to be his Amica no matter the hurdles.

"You and I both know that would only make it better. Illegal friendship? Sounds more like an endorsement than a deterrent to me." It's hard for him not to laugh at the very idea. If this was actually against some law? Oh, how very different things would be... Somehow he'd feel okay then, perhaps because this would just be another of his crazy ideas, and not something sentimental and completely irreconcilable with who he was. Previously upright antenna drooped low at the disappointment. "But... no, no such luck. It's not illegal for me to ask you, just stupid, because you're going to say no."

Suddenly so many things made sense, but in the shock of sadness that followed you couldn't help but speak, your own disappointment showing through. "I am?"

"Well of course you are! That little pink glob between your ears is smart enough to know better! If you were most saps, sure, you'd probably say yes because oooh friendship, but the fact that you're sensible enough to say no is exactly why I want to ask!" He replied, sounding emphatic instead of angry. Despite being a master at appearing mad for the sake of self defense, he can't bring himself to appear anything but... sad. Every part of him is wilting from the sadness that's clocking in early. Because you have to say no, that's just how this works, and his resignation to that fact is clear no matter how badly he wishes it wasn't true. "Believe me, I know what smart looks like. I know what sensible looks like. Most people have a terrible deficit of the two, but not... not you. That's what makes you worth asking, and also worth saying no. Weird, huh?"

Your heart is breaking, somewhat for you, but mostly for him. Did he really think he was unworthy of friendship? Of any kind of love? Clearly you were his best friend, but in the fog of self loathing clouding his vision, he's convinced himself that it has to end now that he truly feels he isn't alone. "Whirl..."

Venting in sharply, like a human sucking in a breath to hold off tears, he perks up and gestures a claw back over his shoulder. "Look, I'm just going to save us both some drama and skip to the part where you kick me out. Since I'm nice, I'll even pretend you're big enough to actually do it. I'll throw myself into the hallway and everything, really seal-"

"Whirl." You say softly, knowing that yelling won't help but desperate to keep him from leaving. It works, but he pretends to be interested in the floor, crouching like he's preemptively flinching away from a hit. It's not the first time you've seen him do this. Coming to understand the big bot had been more natural for you than most, but had still taken effort, and in all the trial and error you'd learned he just needed things phrased a little differently. Thus, you decided to give what you'd learned a final trial.

"Can I at least... actually get a chance to say no?"

It was just indirect enough to immediately catch his attention, but his wounded look remained unchanged, like he didn't dare hope.

"Any particular reason why?" He asked, tilting his helm as if you've piqued his interest with a daring and devilish scheme. There's a lot going on behind his optic, but you're unflinching as he levies it back on you, smiling to emphasize you have nothing to hide.

"It's... well, it's not really fair for you to decide something for me, is it? Even if you know what the answer will be, shouldn't I get the chance to make that choice myself in the moment?"

He clacks his claws together to imitate snapping fingers. "Damn it all, you're a clever little fleshy, I'll give you that. Appealing to my peerless sense of justice for self determination to get your way." The mask of neutrality is razor thin, and beneath it he's anything but calm. None of this is going the way he planned. Far from casting him out, you're encouraging him to go through with this, but why? You can't actually plan to say yes, so why all this fuss? It's not in you to set him up, but he can't bring himself to hope he has a chance at the impossible... So he just plays along like it's all a game, albeit a very sad one, and one he intends to play carelessly. "If you... I'll give you the way to say no and the way to say yes, okay? That way you'll... really mean it when you say no."

"I promise I'll mean it." You say, wishing so badly he'd believe you wanted his friendship. It'd be so much easier than coordinating with him to give you a chance to accept his Amica proposal. Yet you know his manner of processing can't be argued with, so instead you just keep going, praying he'll let you have a chance to show how much you care. "But I need to know how it all works."

"Well, I'll say some fancy words, show my spark, all that mushy stuff most folks love." He waves his claws about, as if to brush away the silliness of the ceremony right there. The idea of baring a spark surprises you, but you keep quiet, focused only on getting through to the part he's convinced himself won't happen. Even as he continues his pessimistic prediction is obvious in his tone. "Then, when I've said my piece and pause, you just say "I refuse" and it's all over, we don't have to talk again, I'll leave and..."

If you were close enough you'd have laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but thankfully your silent look of encouragement does the job, and he overlaps his wrists whilst looking away.

"But if you were going to say yes, hypothetically, then after my pause you just go quiet and... put your little digits on mine... Then repeat after me when I say "today, tomorrow and always" to wrap it up. But since that isn't happening, let's just get this over with, eh?"

It's the flattest one of his jokes has ever fallen. For all his skill keeping his feelings reigned in, even he can't prevent a little bit of intimidation slipping through. It's impossible not to be afraid, because he wants so badly to hope, but he knows what happens when he does... Still, he wants to at least get it over with, and he gathers himself just as you give your final encouragement with a smile.

"Lets."

Clearing his vents, it occurs to him that he's never been more self conscious than he is right now, which is an unfortunate feeling to prelude him baring his spark.

The soft glow fills the room as he shifts back his chest plating, revealing the orb of his "soul" as you'd once called it, and he internally admits that your quiet expression of awe gives him the boost he needs to start. "I bid you stand in the glow of my spark... so um, that you may feel the heat of my words and k-know them to be true."

It's arguably one of the only times he's ever stuttered, and while you don't react, he's never felt more foolish. Was it not enough for him to make a spectacle out of himself just by doing this? Did he really have to butcher the whole process too? Feeling dizzy, he forces his voicebox to try and start making words again. He's painfully aware of how ridiculous he looks; one eyed, mangled screw up trying to be sentimental... But darn it all, he made a commitment. Putting his claws beside his spark, he kept going into what he knew would be a bitter end.

"I invite you to receive my light and in doing so become my Amica Endura—from now until forever."

He doesn't realize he's at the end until he runs out of words. The fear and helplessness that follow are akin to the level he'd experience falling off a cliff with no flight to save him, and for an eternity he's left floundering in anticipation of the impact. This is supposed to be it, the moment you turn him away and rightfully go forward in life, better off for having left him. But you're quiet. Your words of dismissal aren't forthcoming, and your soft and somewhat sad little smile doesn't indicate that he should expect them. But why not?! Why won't you say them?! What could you possibly hope to gain by accepting?

You hardly dare to breathe as you wait for him to begin the next phase. The glow of his spark illuminates everything, allowing you to see the fear in every inch of his being, particularly his lone expressive optic. He doesn't want to believe you're saying yes, as much as he treasures you, he just can't believe you'd ever feel the same about him. But you do, and you try to communicate that with every fiber of your being. You want to be friends with him through anything that may come, and you pray that he can see the depth of your conviction in your eyes.

Something like a hiccup shakes his shoulders. You haven't refused him. It's been almost a minute, the light of his spark fluttering as the sheer power of his emotions coursed through it, namely his disbelief that any of this could be real. Something like relief but a million times stronger makes his vents hitch. He's still processing the turn of events when he remembers he has more to say.

"Ah... Y/N... for you... um... for your acceptance..." He croaks, trying to keep an accursed tear from leaving his optic by briefly tilting back his helm. You're similiarly affected, but you let yourself sniffle and shed a few tears as he approaches with his claws out to you. They're big enough that even a semblance of holding hands isn't really possible, but you grab the tip of each and squeeze regardless, knowing the sentiment is still quite clear. You're his friend, and you always will be, through thick and thin. Now he's finally starting to see that too.

He doesn't fully have a grasp on the fact that this is real, but he doesn't care about that as much as he should. You were his Amica Endura, his dearest friend, and you somehow liked him enough that all the baggage was worth it. With one of your tiny hands on each of his clawtips, he finished the ceremony. Each word felt light as a feather when he spoke it. "As you are to me, may I be to you—today, tomorrow, and always."

"Today, tomorrow, and always." You echo, meaning it with everything you are. There's no grand finale, but the emotion in his optic and quivering antenna is more impressive than any supernova. He doesn't seem to want to pull his claws away as he shifts his chest plating back into position, and you're happy to oblige, keeping a solid hold on his claws as if your tiny body is his lifeline.

"You didn't say no." He says as the glow of his spark disappears. It's a tone for a statement but he obviously wants it to be a question, and he only keeps it from being one because he's still too overwhelmed to ask that many yet.

You can't help but sniffle as you try to sound confident. "Of course I didn't."

"We're still friends." He says softly, closing his claws together so incredibly gently around your hands, letting the two of you be a little more connected as he marvels at his luck. Of all the squishies in the galaxy, this trip had led him to you, the one who made him happier than anything. Despite all sense you loved him, and he loves you back, and the two of you would get to keep on adventuring after this. You smile as you repeat your vow to make your dedication clear.

"Today, tomorrow, and always."

Those words strike a tender chord in his still sensitive spark, for you to believe them so confidently you'll repeat them with ease, and he's promoted to react on a whim.

"Can we hug?"

"Hug?"

"Is there an ech-" The rapid fire reflex of a joke fades out in the face of his genuine and unheard of desire for a bit of tender contact. Releasing your hands, he opens his arms to make his point clear, and is delighted when you start nodding even before he's done asking. "Yes, if you don't mind... okay? Okay."

It's more of a hug for you than him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle against his helm to show affection, feeling him wrap as much of his gangly frame around you as possible without risking any kind of damage. While this may not be the first time he's initiated something like this, it's one of very few rare occasions, and thus you know this is special. You can feel how badly he wants the comfort through the ease he shows at your touch.

"You want to stay like this for a bit?" You ask gingerly, getting settled so you can stay comfortable for a few minutes cuddled up to him.

"Mhmm." He says softly, admitting to himself that hugs might actually be worth the fuss after all. Tiny hands reassuringly pat his shoulder, encouraging him to stay in place while he basks in this single perfect moment. He hadn't dared to hope you'd still be friends after this, but here you were, your little body holding and comforting him as if he wasn't several times your size. Funny thing, that fate, eh?

"Take your time."

"Y/N?" He whispers softly into the quiet, wanting to say one final thing before taking a few minutes to enjoy your company.

"Hm?"

There's a tiny pause before he holds you close with one final statement.

"Thanks."

[tsuu-mikii]

glued

chapter two

masterlist

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

You spent the next two days avoiding Eren. You knew it was childish, but you were scared of saying something stupid and impulsive. You knew you couldn’t keep it up forever, though. The two of you shared an Oceanography class that took up your general education science requirement. The two of you had picked it together, wanting to share at least one class despite your different majors. You weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse now.

As you prepared to leave the room, a sudden knock at the door ripped you from your thoughts. You turned to Sasha, who’d just returned from her 9 am class and was now lounging on her bed using her phone, “Are you expecting anyone?”

She shook her head no as she continued to scroll through what you assumed was a social media app. You got up and made your way to the door. To your surprise, Eren was the one standing there.

You blinked, “Eren? What’s up?”

He gave a hopeful smile, “You answered. I thought you were avoiding me.”

“What? What made you think that?” you replied, tensing up slightly.

You heard Sasha let out a snort from her spot on the bed, and you turned back to glare at her. You had given her the rundown of what had happened, and she’d clowned you the past two days over how freaked out you were.

“You didn’t respond to any of my texts or Facetimes,” her frowned, “I thought I did something dumb while I was drunk and upset you.”

Guilt began to build up in your chest at how hurt he looked, “I’m sorry, I was just really busy. I’m not upset with you or anything. I promise.”

It was mostly true, too. You weren’t necessarily upset with him; it was more so at yourself, for being so beat up about him having feelings for someone else.

He breathed a sigh of relief before smiling, “I’m glad. I really thought you hated me now or something.”

You smiled back, “I could never hate you, Eren.”

“I would hope not. You’re my favorite person, y’know?” he said with a grin.

For some reason, the words stung. You knew soon enough the person he was in love with would take that spot. While it was inevitable, it still hurt.

You grinned back, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes, “Yeah, I know.”

“Do you wanna walk to class together? It’s starting soon.” he asked, shifting the topic of conversation.

You simply nodded in response and went to collect your shoes and school bag. As you gathered your things, Sasha gave you a look. You winced, knowing later she’d tease you about your awkwardness.

The two of you walked to class making idle chatter. It was nice, the stress you had built up melting away as you listened to him laugh and crack jokes like he always did.

You entered the lecture hall a bit early, there was a few minutes to spare before the professor arrived. Eren left your side to chat with some fraternity friends while you made your way over to your usual seat.

“Armin, hey!” you slid into the seat next to him, “Good morning!”

He smiled, “Good morning, y/n!”

Armin was a friend to both you and Eren, though he was closer to him than you. He’d been one of Eren’s friends before he transferred schools way back when and had stayed in touch with him ever since. He introduced you to each other when you were in middle school and you’d formed a close bond since then.

“I hate to pry,” he started, face riddled with concern, “but did you and Eren fight or something this weekend? He was all beat up about you not texting him back or responding to his Facetimes.”

You gave a weak smile, “Oh no, of course not! I was just super busy this weekend. We talked it over before we came to class.”

You hated lying to two of your oldest friends, but it wasn’t like you could come out and say ‘ Hey you spilled your guts to me about being in love with someone while you were drunk and now I’m realizing that I might still have feelings for you! ’ or anything.

Armin smiled at your response, “That’s good! He was talking my ear off about it, I swear. He literally had me help him type up an apology in case you were actually mad.”

You laughed at that, you knew how preciously Eren viewed your friendship. Even if he wouldn’t tell you that he liked someone while he was sober.

Suddenly, a thought crossed your mind. Did Armin know? It would make sense, the two of them had been friends since actual diapers, so it was entirely possible he knew something.

“Hey, Armi-” you were cut off by your professor making his way into class and taking his place at the front. You slid down your chair with a sigh. ‘What was I thinking anyway?’ you thought, ‘It was an invasion of privacy. If Eren wanted to tell me, he would. Right?’

And so you tried your hardest to push your thoughts about it away, hoping that he’d talk to you about it without alcohol coursing through his system soon.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*

The rest of the week passed quickly, with Saturday night rolling back around in no time. Eren hadn’t brought up that night again, so you kept quiet on it also. It was better to just let it be than to push and end up causing problems.

You scanned your eyes over the paper you’d just finished one last time before submitting. As you put away your laptop, Sasha burst through the door.

“Nic and his friends are having a party tonight, do you wanna come with me? They’re putting my playlist on the aux.” she grinned.

You scrunched your face, “Who’s gonna be there?”

“No one you’re not cool with. Come on, live a little!” she shook your arm up and down as she spoke, “It’s Saturday night and I know you’re done with your work for the day. Plus, I know you’ve been all messed up about the whole Eren fiasco, you need to de-stress.”

You pondered for a second, you had been a bit on edge recently. You sighed, “Fine, but only for a few hours, okay?”

Sasha pumped her fists in the air, “Yes! Now get ready. The party started like thirty minutes ago and sweats aren’t gonna cut it today, sweetheart.”

You rolled her eyes at her antics and grabbed your shower caddy to go freshen up. After returning to your dorm room you slipped on a black dress that you’d bought ages ago before doing a quick face of makeup and styling your hair.

You rummaged through your shoes to find something suitable before turning to face Sasha. “This ready enough for you?”

“You look hot,” she grinned, “who knows, maybe tonight you’ll pull someone that’ll make you forget about the feeling you may or may not have for our dear friend Mr. Jaeger.”

You laughed, “I’ll settle for a few shots and a good dance. Now let’s go, we’re already late. How are you gonna be late to your own boyfriend’s party?”

She rolled her eyes and grabbed her bag, “He’ll live.”

The two of you made your way to the house and got past the person at the door with ease. The party was in full swing, music blared from the speakers and people filled the house with chatter. Sasha’s boyfriend Niccolo was in a different fraternity than Eren, but you still recognized a few guys from the couple of parties you’d been to with him.

Sasha all but bolted when she locked eyes on her boyfriend, leaving you to scan the room for a familiar face. You quickly spotted Connie, Sasha’s best friend, and made your way over to him.

You tapped his shoulder causing him to turn around. When he realized it was you he pulled you into a quick hug before releasing you, “Hey, y/n! Sasha dragged you out the dorm this weekend?”

“She did,” you laughed, “do you know where I can get a drink?”

He pointed to the bar area on the far side of the frat house’s basement, “Over there, see the guy with the blonde hair? He’s playing bartender tonight. He’ll hook you up.”

You thanked him and weaved your way through the crowd, eager to get some alcohol in your system and let loose a little. You shouted for the attention of the bartender as you approached the bar. He turned to face you and smiled. “I take it you’re here for the alcohol?”

“I am indeed,” you returned his smile, “gimme something strong.”

He wasted no time in mixing up some concoction and handing it to you in a cup. You thanked him and turned to leave, ready to drink and dance away some of the stress of the past week. After wandering the dance floor for a bit, you found yet another familiar face.

“Mikasa!” you beamed, tapping the dark haired girl on the shoulder.

“Y/n,” looked back at your voice and smiled, “you got dragged out of your dorm tonight too?”

“Yeah, but I think I’m actually having a good time!” you grabbed her hand, “Dance with me!”

She laughed at your eagerness but complied anyway. Mikasa had known you for just as long as Eren had. She was his next door neighbor when he moved back in elementary, and the two of you had become acquainted when play dates overlapped. She was often the mediator whenever you and Eren would get into it, making sure the two of you got it together at the end of the day.

The two of you danced for a good amount of time, talking idly about your days and laughing. You’d finished your first drink and were on the same track with your second, the fuzzy feeling the alcohol gave you eating away your worries.

“I hate to leave you, but do you know where a bathroom is?” you asked.

She pointed to a hallway a bit past the bar, and you made your way over to it. You approached the door and knocked a few times to prevent walking in on someone. A slew of hushed drunken giggles came from behind the door at your actions and you cringed. You immediately turned to walk away, feeling awkward over disrupting the couple in there’s hookup.

The door opened before you could get away, though.

“How may I help,” a familiar voice started, “...you.”

You locked eyes with the person, the teal green color was one you knew all too well. “Eren. Hey.” you smiled awkwardly. His hair was tousled and there was lip gloss all over his face.

Eren froze, “Y/n, what are you doing here?”

“Sasha invited me. Unless you mean the bathroom, which, well obviously I needed to go inside, but since you clearly have it occupied I’m just gonna go back-” you rambled, face flushed.

You knew of Eren’s playboy reputation, but you’d never seen him in the act before. A dull ache panged in your chest, things feeling a bit too real all of a sudden.

“Eren, baby, what’s going on?” the girl in the bathroom chimed in, you couldn’t see her, but she had a pretty voice, you thought.

“Yeah, I’m gonna go find Sasha. See you later, I guess.” And with that, you sped away, ignoring Eren’s shout of your name as you retreated down the hall.

You found Sasha relatively quickly, she was sitting on a couch in a corner of the room with her boyfriend and some other friends. You saw that Mikasa had also made her way over during your trip.

“Y/n, hey!” Sasha greeted when she saw you, obviously tipsy, “come do shots with us!”

On a normal day, you would’ve refused. You liked drinking, but not getting drunk. But you don’t really see your best friend who you may or may not have feelings for mid-hookup on a normal day.

“Hell yes,” you replied.

It was fun drinking with Sasha and her friends. They were just as funny as her, and you found yourself laughing harder than you had in a long time.

You reached for another shot, only to be stopped by Mikasa. “No, y/n. I think you’ve had enough.”

“Whaaaat?” you exclaimed, “I barely drank, right Annie?”

Annie, a friend of Sasha’s, snorted, “Don’t drag me into this.”

“I think you should head back, y/n.” Sasha chimed.

“You guys are all so mean!” you pouted.

“Yeah, you’re done for.” Mikasa stood, “Come on, let’s go back.”

“I don’t want to.” you crossed your arms, you came out to de stress and have a good time, who cared if you had a bit too much to drink?

“You can come to my dorm?” Mikasa offered.

You hummed in thought, a sleepover would be nice. “Fine.”

You grabbed your things and stood up, waving bye to Sasha and her friends. You followed Mikasa through the crowd as she held your hand. On your way out, you passed Eren. You felt childish in your drunkenness and stuck your tongue out with a laugh. If the look of confusion he gave you was anything to go by, he didn’t think it was funny.

When you got back to Mikasa’s dorm, she immediately helped you out of your dress and into some pajamas. She had been blessed with a room all to herself, so she laid you on the spare bed.

“Sleep.” she said, covering you with a blanket.

Your adrenaline had run out, and being nuzzled under the warm blanket she’d given you made you realize how tired you actually were. Sleep claimed you relatively quickly, and you drifted off to the sounds of Mikasa shuffling around her room.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･

a/n: hey besties! not much to say since i’m just trying to catch up on cross posting, but hope y’all enjoyed!

[haillenarte]

white day 2020;

Here is a full translation of the (thus far) Japanese-exclusive White Day 2020 Developer’s Blog post.

First, the dry translator’s disclaimers: I acknowledge that this post is four months old. Once upon a time, I was the sort of fan translator who would have rushed to get this done within a week of its posting, but in this case, I was busy with the Ishgardian Restoration Skybuilders’ Ranking when it was first posted, and then after that... well, I just busied myself with other things. I was tempted to skip doing this one completely, but then I felt obligated to complete the series given that I’d translated the post from 2018, so... goodbye to my Saturday morning and afternoon, I suppose.

This post is intended as a polished translation on par with official content. As such, I have taken certain liberties with the text: though it was originally in more or less a script format, I embellished it to make it a prose post consistent with other English developer’s blog posts. Most of the moogle’s narration was invented by me in order to preserve humor and narrative flow. This is nothing that the localization team itself does not do. I can assure you that the core details remain essentially intact and untouched.

If you would prefer to read a more literal take on this text, I am sure that more than a few rough translations exist of it already, so please look for someone else’s post if you want something that’s more of a word-for-word take.

Special thanks to the person I trust best to write Urianger’s dialogue for helping me with Urianger’s dialogue, and then to a second good friend for Elizabethan grammar-checking the both of us!

Happy White Day, Kupo!

March 13, 2020

It’s ever so nice to speak with you again, kupo!

Do you remember me from the last report, perchance? ‘Tis I, the ever-industrious deputy postmoogle’s apprentice! The rising star that’s, ahem, still training to become a full-fledged postmoogle... kupopo...

This Valentione’s Day — like every Valentione’s Day — we postmoogles were once again entrusted with delivering confessions of love all throughout the realm. So I’m here to give you an exclusive rundown on how my deliveries unfolded, kupo!

First, I tapped into my considerable experience as an aspiring postmoogle to... erm... take care of the most difficult delivery on my list before all the rest. A-As any professional would, obviously!

...Phew!

Oh, it was such a relief that he was asleep when I dropped by, kupopo... I thought my heart was going to thump straight out of my fluffy chest! My paws might have been severed... my pom plucked...

Honestly, I was of the distinct opinion that I had done more than my fair share of the year’s work after that, kupo, but of course I tirelessly flew away to my next destination without complaint!

The second set of Valentione’s Day packages in my delivery satchel were meant for Lord Hien of Doma!

Lord Hien greeted me himself, kupo, friendly as ever. "Ah, the postmaster — right on time as always!” he said, a little breathlessly. “You have my thanks. Would you just leave your deliveries on that table so that they come to no harm?”

What harm? I was more a bit confused, but then I realized that he was in the middle of some sort of... game?

He was running around, being chased by the leader of the Buduga clan, kupo. I suppose they were in the middle of an extremely spirited game of tag! How fun! I remember when I was a young moogle playing tag with my friends, floating in circles with the wind in my whiskers... Oh, for those halcyon days! 

Daidukul received a fair bit of stuff from his admirers, too, kupo. More than Magnai, that’s for sure...

Then Isse looked at me as I was laying out everyone’s packages. “Oh, the postmoogle’s arrived?” he asked. “Um, by any chance, are you the one who delivered the year-end gifts from last time? I meant to give my thanks to the person who sent me something then...”

Of course, I told him that would be perfectly fine!

After all, even when it’s not Valentione’s Day, it’s the responsibility of a delivery moogle — or delivery person — to ensure that all the tender feelings they’ve been entrusted with reach their intended recipients. That’s why there’s no better job for me than being a postmoogle!

After my business in Doma was concluded, I flew back to Eorzea, kupo.

I’m a real go-getter — and someone really ought to tell the deputy postmoogle of my great work ethic — so I darted straight to the Black Shroud to unload my paws of all the packages I had for the people there. And what luck! As fortune would have it, I met one of my delivery targets on the road: Sanson Smyth!

“Happy Valentione’s Day, Sanson!” I chirped. “I have some very special deliveries for you and your usual companion!”

“Companion?” Sanson repeated. He sounded a little incredulous. “Er, no, that’s not quite right — it would really be more accurate to call him a vexing subordinate... Regardless, if it is Guydelot you seek, he is no doubt at his usual tavern. Would you like me to walk there with you?”

Oh, but of course I did, kupo! Sanson’s such a thoughtful, helpful man, isn’t he? It was so very nice of him to ask.

Taverns are where travelers go to rest, so they seem like such wonderful places to meet other people, kupo...

Once I’d finished with my deliveries in the Shroud, I let the cool northern winds carry me straight to Ishgard, kupo. And what change it’s gone through! The city was just bustling with the reconstruction effort!

I told Edmont (Count Edmont? Lord Edmont? So confusing!) that I’d come to deliver joyful tidings of love to everyone in House Fortemps again, kupo!

And to Ser Aymeric as well, of course!

And... well, I had a whole sack of things to give to Estinien, but just like last time, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Since writing his name on it and leaving it by the window seemed to work last Valentione’s Day, I asked Aymeric if I should do the same this year, but... kupopo... He didn’t quite seem to approve of the idea. 

“We’ve received word from our men afield that Estinien may no longer be operating in Ishgard,” Aymeric explained, “so it may not be enough merely to leave his gifts by the nearest window and expect him to come across them.”

My pom drooped a bit at this pronouncement, kupo. After all, how was I going to deliver Estinien’s presents if even the Ishgardians couldn’t find him? Was it all hopeless, kupo?! All those packages to be returned to their senders... What a waste!

“No, well... Another report indicated some success in luring him with the scent of roasted kraken, seared by dragon’s breath. We might try that, if you’d like.”

I thought that seemed like a reasonable suggestion, but Edmont looked a little concerned. “Ser Aymeric, do you truly think — ?” he began, but then he seemed to change his mind. “...No, forget that I spoke. That being said, the restoration of the Firmament is proceeding apace, so I would exercise caution around undue use of fire...”

Well, I am nothing if not a cautious moogle, so I very carefully cooked up some delicious grilled kraken over an open fire, kupo. We postmoogles truly go above and beyond for our work!

I left his packages with the salted cephalopod as it was roasting, so I’ll bet he was thrilled to find everything set up for him!

I didn’t forget to make deliveries to this place either, kupo.

Whenever I come here, the atmosphere of the room feels so... so holy, kupo. As if the very air is clear... but empty, too. Do you know what I mean?

I cleaned up my posture before I left, kupo, and then it was off to finish the rest of the deliveries!

I had successfully shared everyone’s expressions of love with all sorts of people in Eorzea, and now it was time for... um... the impossible, kupo. You see, I still had a whole stack of especially challenging deliveries to make to the First!

We moogles have a lot of special tricks up our poms, kupo, but even I can’t possibly visit another shard without a bit of help... 

I really hadn’t the foggiest idea how to get there, so I wound up consulting the helpful folks at the Eighteenth Floor to ask them how I could get to the First!

And do you know what? They were so nice, kupo! They said that because Valentione’s Day was such a special day, and because they wanted to accommodate everyone’s heartfelt feelings, they’d let me use a special door that would take me safely to the First. Though it was not without... stipulations...

They handed me an enchanted pocket watch and said that if I failed to return before the hand on the watch made a full turn around the clock, I’d never be able to go back to Eorzea again, kupo.

Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! What other job would possibly ask you to put your existence as you know it on the line, kupo?!

But I am, as I’ve said, a professional beyond compare... so I made up my mind and zipped right through that door!

...I admit, I passed out and lost consciousness as I was traveling between the worlds, kupo. But when I came to, I was in a beautiful purple forest, and I could vaguely hear someone calling for me!

So I bounced back into the air and fluttered off to the Crystal Tower, kupo!

Naturally, the first First resident I delivered packages to was the Crystal Exarch. I had things to give him as the Crystal Exarch, and... other things to give him, too, kupo. Presents from a different time, from when he went by a different name. 

Now, I must admit, I’ve never quite understood his situation, but I did dutifully deliver his Valentione’s Day gifts each and every year! I simply wasn’t able to enter the Crystal Tower, so I would leave them at the entrance, kupo. I told him this, and then I asked him if he’d received them.

...But he didn’t answer me, kupo! He just started crying!

What was a poor moogle to do? I mean, you’ll notice our paws aren’t exactly great for wiping tears away. Had I made a terrible mistake after all? Should I not have done that?

“No,” the Exarch said, shaking his head. “No, you... you have done nothing wrong, little moogle. Forgive me. Let us move on. We must needs formulate a plan to keep you safe as you navigate this shard.“

I was very grateful to have made the acquaintance of such a cooperative colleague, kupo! With his help, I charted a path through Norvrandt that would let me finish my deliveries in time.

Next time, though, I hope I’m given a bit more time to take in the sights. I still think of those beautiful flowers in Il Mheg, and all the sights and sounds in that luxurious seaside city, Eulmore...

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn were there on some sort of business trip, I suppose, and of course they received as many gifts as ever, kupopo. I was very pleased to meet young Ryne for the first time, though!

She was delighted to meet me too, I do believe, and when I explained to her what Valentione’s Day was all about, she smiled and said, “It’s so wonderful that there are such beautiful holidays on the Source!”

“I’m sure Norvrandt will begin celebrating its own holidays before long, now that it isn’t under threat of the Light,” Thancred told her. “If you want, you can start a holiday of your own, with your friends.”

“That’s true,” Ryne giggled.

Urianger was especially pleased to see Ryne smile, kupo! Er, what was it he said again? “Pray enjoy thy gifts, to the delight of those who give thee affection.” Something like that, kupo? And also, um... “Have care lest thou shouldst cross paths with pixies and their kin, for therein lieth a penchant for mischief most troublesome.”

Yes, that was it, kupo!

Seeing everyone smile made my heart feel all warm and fuzzy too, kupo. I realize I’m always warm and fuzzy, but I mean extraordinarily so!

After ensuring that all of my packages arrived in the hands of their recipients on land, I then had to travel all the way to the bottom of the deep blue sea. It still boggles my mind that people on the First live beneath the ocean waves, kupo!

It took me some time to find someone who would respond to me, but I managed it eventually. “Why, hello there!” I said. “Yes, you, the tall fellow over there! Do you know where I might find someone by the name of Emet-Selch? I’ve a long story that I haven’t the time to tell, but to cut it all short, I have a pile of presents that I must see into his hands!”

I couldn’t quite make out the tall fellow’s face behind his mask, but I got the impression that he was smiling at me, kupo. “You are troubled, little one. Yes, I understand... If you would deliver these glad tidings to him, then let me give you a helping hand. Here.”

Poof! 

I couldn’t believe my eyes, kupo! With a snap of his fingers, the tall man made all my packages for Emet-Selch disappear into bits of light!

This wasn’t in any of the procedural manuals the deputy postmoogle made me memorize back-to-front, so I admit I might have panicked a little bit... but the tall fellow calmed me down soon enough.

“Even sweet gifts such as those you bear are only masses of aether,” he explained. “Once reduced to their base components, they will go to where he is — where all life eventually arrives. Be at ease, child. Whatever his faults in character, our lord of the dead and king of the underworld is an exceedingly clever man. No matter how vast the sea of life may be, he will surely be able to pluck his presents from the aetherial flow... supposing he desires to do so, that is.”

Now, I didn’t truly understand the finer points of this explanation, kupo... but the masked man seemed sincere about getting those gifts to Emet-Selch, so I decided to believe that he hadn’t done any harm.

I wanted to thank him for his help, but then he was gone in the blink of an eye! Even though I was in the middle of speaking with him when he vanished!

The citizens of that place are so mysterious, kupopo...

After all that was said and done, kupo, I had one final delivery to make. Just one last addressee to track down, and then I’d be finished, kupo!

And I really put my all into it. I swear upon my postmoogle’s cap and bag! I looked everywhere, every mountain high and valley low, but I simply couldn’t track him down.

The time left on my pocket watch was starting to run out, kupo, so I had to accept defeat. Disappointed, dragging my drooping pom behind me, I made my way back to the door between worlds, which already looked like it was in danger of disappearing, and leapt through the gates...

Mayhap I had cut it so close to the last second that something went wrong, kupo?

I passed out again, and when I came to, I was rolling around on an unfamiliar grassy knoll... while someone was poking at me to wake up, kupo!

What luck! What incredible luck! It was the very person I’d been searching for, for all that time, up until the very last second — Ardbert!

I almost cried and threw myself at him, I was so happy! To think that I would find him like this! “Ardbert, Ardbert!” I said, like he was an old friend. “I finally found you! I had all these presents to give you, kupo!”

He laughed and took it all in stride, though this must have been greatly puzzling to him. “What’s this? Another reward for the quest we just finished?”

“No, it’s not, kupo!” I replied, perhaps a little more crossly than I should have. “Here, this is for you! Take this, and this, and this! It’s all yours, kupo! Each package represents someone’s feelings for you, kupo! Everyone loves you so much!”

“Careful, now — oh, these look delicious!” he exclaimed, affably embarrassed as he sorted through the boxes I was admittedly pelting him with. “And this is all for me? You’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, kupo! Eat them all up and have more faith in yourself, Ardbert!”

His eyes crinkled at their corners when he smiled. “Hahah! You’ve got a point. Then I’ll share these with my friends just over there. My thanks for bringing them all this way here, postmoogle. You’ve done a great job.”

...

...

I don’t quite remember what happened after that, kupo...

When I came to, I was lying on the counter of the Seventh Heaven, evidently having dozed off next to that Wandering Minstrel fellow. At first, I thought perhaps meeting Ardbert in that strange world had been nothing but a dream, but when I checked my postmoogle’s bag, I realized that it was much lighter, kupo!

So I really had met him, and I really had completed all my deliveries!

This year’s Valentione’s Day deliveries were arduous and difficult, kupo, but at the end of the day, I really did have a lot of fun. 

I delivered all of your love to everyone else, kupo... and now I’m here to deliver their love back to you!

One more time, for everyone’s sake: Happy White Day, kupo!

[simpmeon]

Red: Companions

Pairing: Any Demon Brother x Gender Neutral MC, Diavolo x Gender Neutral MC Genre: Angst Word Count: 2k Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Cursing // Implied Smut

The Fall // Rebirth // Betrayal // Companions // Revenge 

His ability to charm all those he comes in contact with and how they all love him and all of them fell for the same lies he told you. You may have been the only one that those words may have been true to, but you didn’t care at this point. Every promise, every whispered affirmation, every touch he placed on your body was a lie. He was a liar and a cheater.

And you will have your revenge.

The masquerade was everything you expected it to be. You saw all the exchange students that followed you and each one left a more bitter taste in your mouth than the last. One seemed to be hanging off every brother, asking for the one you fell in love with and where he was. You could see the annoyance on their faces as they grabbed onto their arms and held their hands, begging for a dance. They were the one directly after you, a demonologist who dedicated most of their time to studying the demon brothers, both before and after the program. You could feel the disgust and anger waft off of them with every passing second. The one after the demonologist was a spoiled wizard who only saw their place as the new ruler of Devildom, only getting to the brothers to get closer to Diavolo. The third and fourth housemates were apparently twins that went down in different years. Those two did not not even bother showing up, citing fear of being eaten as their excuse, and the fifth housemate just strutted through the door, hickeys covering their exposed neck as they entered arm and arm with the demon you fell in love with. 

None of the brothers had really noticed your presence yet, but that was your own doing. Slinking between demons, hiding in the kitchen and hallways, standing behind Diavolo’s massive frame, anything to keep an eye on those fiery red locks and the other brothers. You wanted a dramatic reveal that you were not only a demon, but that you died with him being the last thing on your mind. You basically hung onto Diavolo all night, your composure eliciting praise from Diavolo.

Diavolo’s big speech was almost here, where he would introduce all of the exchange students that came before you, humans and angels alike. All of them were hanging out in a special room chatting away, but you mostly hung around on the outside of the room. Inside you could see Luke and Simeon, as well as Solomon, telling their stories of the first exchange program. 

“I heard the first person to live with the brothers was a descendant of Lilith! I must see if they match my sketch of Lilith!” The demonologist would squeal gleefully. Simeon would only laugh and go to describe Lilith in great detail from what he could remember. The demonologist ate up every word the angel breathed, ecstatic to meet one of the highest ranking angels in the entire Celestial Realm. Luke and Simeon have yet to mention the fact that they saw you fall to the Devildom, probably because you haven’t spoken to them since they last saw you on the pathway to the Celestial Realm. 

Poor Luke was still getting doted on by the angels and humans alike, his blush getting redder and redder with each head pet. Solomon was the only one who seemed to have noticed that you were behind the door, listening in and watching. You two would sneak glances at each other, almost conversing telepathically between each other. He was just as fed up with the other humans as you were which was refreshing to see. His eyes were glued especially on the one with fire red hair. No one really mentioned the fact that all the humans had a ring of some sort around their necks, all the humans giving some excuse of your old flame giving the rings as parting gifts to them so they would never forget their year in Devildom. You felt your body go rigid as they would talk about their times with the brothers and their times with your lover. 

EX-lover 

You had to remind yourself of that as you fiddled with the ring around your neck. Something that brought you immense comfort now brought nothing but pain to you. You had physically died twice in your life now, but the pain you felt whenever you would touch the ring was worse than any death. 

You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, and your head snapped up to see Solomon looking at you with worry. The two of you walked further down the hall, away from all the commotion to be shrouded by the dim light of the candlelit hallways. You had been texting Solomon about your plan to reveal yourself at the masquerade, however he did express concern with the idea. Having not had the chance to speak face to face about the situation, he pulled you further down the hallways until you could barely hear the words from the room.

“Are you sure you want to do this? What if you lose control?” Solomon whispered, hand grabbing yours. 

“That’s what Diavolo is for and that’s what you’re about to be for.”  You replied with a chuckle. “If you make a pact with me you’d be able to get me to stop with a simple command, right?”

Solomon’s eyes shot open at that, completely in shock before relaxing with a smirk. “So. You’ve been a demon for a little less than a year and you want to make a pact with me?”

“If you don’t want to you don’t have to. I’ve known you for five years now…I agree that you’re a shady little shit but ….you’re my closest friend.” You said, squeezing his hand. “But I would like to make one with you one day.”

Solomon sighed and ran his free hand through his hair. “Listen Y/N, you’re powerful and would make an amazing pact mate considering you had all seven of the strongest demons I’ve ever known under your belt, but you’re not stable enough right now. Have you even been in your demon form tonight yet?”

“W-well. No. Dia wants it to be a surprise! And plus, if I was in my demon form heand the brothers would’ve saw me and so would Red over there and knew something would be up! It was easier to just maintain my normal form and slink around.” You explained, a light red tint on your cheeks.

Solomon smirked and let go of your hand to rest it on the wall, his free hand on his hip. “And what were you slinking around for?” He asked, amused.

You took a deep breath, blush tinting your cheeks at his playful tone. “I just wanted the rundown on those who came after me, and how they treated the boys. From what I’ve seen they’re all insufferable except for Red, but then again they showed up late so I couldn’t get a good read on them. They all seem to have no clue who I am.”

Solomon sighed again, now opting to lean against the wall with one leg and his arms crossed, although there was still that mischievous smile on his face. “That’s because the other students don’t know about you besides what they gathered themselves. I think the brother’s decided it would be best to not mention you and to stop comparing you to the other exchange students, for their sake. One of the few perks of having a twenty-four seven access point to this place is that you get to pick up on behaviors. For a whole month after you left Lucifer would grumble about how you were late with his coffee only to realize you weren’t there….Leviathan didn’t leave his room for three months….Belphegor slept in the attic more…even Satan began slipping back into his old habits of leaving books everywhere and untouched. I know Beelzebub stopped eating for a while and Mammon was almost never home, working constantly and then immediately spending the money….hell even Asmodeus stopped taking care of himself because you weren’t around. Do you know how annoying he can be sometimes? How many hours I spent cuddling him? Ugh, it was annoying.” He grumbled. “Don’t even get me started whenever Asmodeus would swing violently from being horny to being depressed.”

“Awww was someone tired of being the top?” You jested, poking his arm and giggling at the blush that took over his face. Getting Solomon embarrassed was such a delight because of how rare it happened.

“No! That’s not it at all! I’m just a very busy man.” He muttered, turning his face away from you to hide his blushing cheeks.

“Mhmm…of course you are wizard boy. Now go back into that room before Simeon goes searching.” You giggled, pushing Solomon gently, but he still managed to almost get slammed to the ground. The minute Simeon’s name left your lips, you frowned. How was Simeon? How was Luke? How were they handling the news…

“Why don’t you go in the parlor yourself?” Solomon asked, fixing his suit and tie, almost reading your mind. You pursed your lips together and gripped the ring that swung from your neck. Solomon picked up on the shift in your mood easily, once again standing closer to you. “Is it because of the exchange students?”

“They’re…..one of the reasons.” You answered, spinning the ring between your thumb and index finger. “Simeon and Luke were the ones to watch me fall…and I just don’t want them to know what I’ve become… not yet…”

“Oh…Simeon did mention that to me. He asked about you. Luke did too.”

“…What did you say?”

“That you became a demon. I didn’t tell them anything past that. Luke didn’t want to believe that, especially since they saw you on the way to the Celestial Realm. Simeon beats himself up almost everyday that he stood there and watched you fall from the heavens. Apparently Luke was practically beating him, yelling at him to save you with tears in his eyes. Simeon said he was crying too. They even went to Michael about asking God to save you, but by then you were already a demon and although you sinned as much as the next guy, the pacts with the brothers are what ultimately made them deny you passage.” He answered. 

“Oh…” You muttered, biting your lip. So they did know about you being a demon after all. That’s good at least, the shock won’t be too bad for them then.

“Having sex with them also didn’t help your case.” Solomon added with an evil smirk. 

Now you were a blushing, sputtering mess making Solomon laugh out loud. You pouted and crossed your arms, cheeks still a nice tint of pink. Solomon smiled and swung an arm around your shoulder so his laughter was right by your ear. He pressed a cheeky peck on your temple before flashing the peace sign and walking back into the parlor with the other students.

You watched him from around the corner as he entered back into the parlor, the warming glow of the candles casting orange light in the otherwise black hallways. You could smell the cinnamon and you could hear the laughter of all the students and part of you wishes you would have the courage to force yourself to walk in there, but you were too scared. Too scared of seeing Luke and Simeon and having their guilt take over them, too scared to see Red and to be bombarded by those who were just cheap replacements, not to mention the other angels who you’ve never met before. 

You sank down the wall, legs outstretched and arms crossed one over the other. You thought about the hickeys on their neck, how miserable he looked to be walking in with them, disguised with a smile. The way his brothers treated him like a stranger….how every exchange student under the same roof was enthralled by them. How cute for him to prevent them from entering the Celestial Realm and for leading them on because of his ways. His ability to charm all those he comes in contact with and how they all love him and all of them fell for the same lies he told you. You may have been the only one that those words may have been true to, but you didn’t care at this point. Every promise, every whispered affirmation, every touch he placed on your body was a lie. He was a liar and a cheater. 

And you will have your revenge.