#Stellar Acclimation

[scout-company]

“What in…d-do I know you?” Scout fizzles warily as the figure approaches, stopping a mere couple feet in front of her. She takes a partial step back, but the figure stands unperturbed. 

Instead the figure’s eyes soften. I know you, the whisper says. Scout realizes the whisper is coming from the figure as they glance at her arm, over her shoulder, at her face, and their eyes soften further. Almost sadly. But you have been much changed, I see.

Looking at the figure’s face is like staring into an ancient abyss; into the darkest night with their two eyes the only stars in existence. Scout shudders as their presence weighs the air between them with the depth of unknown ages. Still she manages to prompt, “Wh…whaddya mean, ‘much changed?’”

Your being had been fragmented. Your mask, damaged.

~~~~~

Drew this scene from Chapter 13 as if it was a comic because why not

[mythrilpencil]

Stellar Acclimation—Prologue

The sun barely starts to rise over the desert hills as Semyon steps outside. Only its earliest rays filter through the dusty sky, filling the air with a gentle purple pre-dawn haze.

Semyon dusts the mauve fur on his hands as he meanders towards the hill that marks the westward boundary of town. He never can get all of the sand out of his messy fur. Drives him nuts. Despite a sandstorm lasting all night, the only remnant of it now is a chilled, faint breeze that stirs his fur and the leaves of the rainbow palms high above. Even the massive wall of dust is no longer visible past the hill.

Large squares of blue fabric, hung like curtains and tent walls, shield the entrances of most of the houses and the entrance of Semyon’s mentor’s workshop. His mentor, an old Glitch named Bronzemarch, needed a few fresh bottles of the healing water that naturally pools under the workshop and had thus tasked Semyon to fetch them like every morning. The shimmering turquoise liquid fills the workshop—which is little more than a few work tables between crates on a rickety wooden platform long ago fitted into the side of the natural cave in the hill—with a soothing, glittering light. It’s one of Semyon’s favorite places in town.

He hums a made-up tune to himself as he uncorks each bottle he was assigned and dips it into the cool water. His rumble echoes in the silence; the whistle of the breeze through the fabric overhangs his accompaniment. But then a sudden burst of magenta light followed by an orange glow flickers through the westward exit of the workshop cave. He cuts himself off mid-phrase and mid-dip. What in the world?

Curiosity possesses him, and he sets aside his two filled bottles and last half-filled one before investigating. What’s that orange glow? A visitor warping down, perhaps? They don’t get many of those unless the merchant Riku invites someone for a business deal. Maybe someone got lost? …But a magenta warp? Avian-made teleporters create a red warp; Hylotl-made teleporters create a blue one. But what kind of technology makes a magenta one?

Semyon isn’t quite sure what he expects when he pushes aside the thick, limp fabric shielding the west exit of the cave from the outside desert. But he certainly doesn’t expect to see what he sees: a burst of flickering orange gas—no, plasma—just behind the nearby ruined sandstone pillars. Alarmed, Semyon approaches the pillars.

And finds a humanoid being, wearing a horribly tattered short-sleeved black shirt and pants; with their whole left arm, shoulder, and half their upper back gone and leaking that plasma. They’re face-first in the sand and fading fast. Literally.

“Bronzemarch!” Semyon yells as he rushes back through the workshop into town. “Bronzemarch! Come quick!”

Bronzemarch bursts out of the front door of his small shack, ducking past the blue drape and nearly colliding with the wicker-and-sandstone waist-high wall that delineates the little patio in front of the door. “Alarmed. Semyon! What’s wrong?” he demands, still buttoning up an old black tunic over his steel chassis.

“Someone’s just outside your workshop; I don’t even know what they are but they’re hurt real bad!” Semyon summarizes between huffs, pointing the way.

“Serious. Show me.”

Quickly Semyon leads his mentor through the workshop cave to where the orange plasma-person is still laying in the sand by the pillars.

Bronzemarch quickens his pace to pass Semyon and approach the person while muttering, “Bewildered. A Novakid?”

While Bronzemarch kneels next to the person, opposite their leaking plasma, Semyon blinks. “A what?”

“Focused. A being made of plasma like a miniature star. They are—” Suddenly Bronzemarch holds up a hand to stop Semyon before he can approach, his mechanical tone sharpening. “Stern. Semyon, don’t get close. This plasma is dangerous to organics.”

“Then what do I do?” 

“Commanding. Give me your jacket, then go fetch my nanowrap from the cupboard. Quickly!”

Semyon nods hurriedly, shrugging off his muted orange jacket, tossing it to his mentor, and turning around to dash back through the workshop almost in the same motion.

By the time he returns a minute later with a thinning roll of nanoweave bandaging, Bronzemarch had wrapped the person’s—Novakid’s—wounded side with Semyon’s now-inside-out jacket, rolled them to their back, and is now starting to tie the sleeves together to secure it. Bronzemarch looks up sharply as Semyon scampers over, his screen-like eyes wide for a blink before looking back down at the Novakid. He holds a hand out, and Semyon automatically tosses the nanoweave over.

Semyon shifts his weight between his feet, studying his mentor’s work while waiting to be told what to do next. Bronzemarch wraps lengths of the luminescent nanoweave bandaging around the ends of Semyon’s jacket to seal the large impromptu patch and keep the Novakid from leaking any more of their thinning plasma. But by now their plasma is so thin Semyon can almost see through their dim head to Bronzemarch’s knee propping it up. Even their uneven bob of plasma “hair” is mostly limp aside from the odd wisp here and there. He’s partially surprised the metal-looking symbol on their face doesn’t make their...face...cave in. They don’t have anything in the way of facial features at all past that symbol—which is in the shape of a triangle with short lengths extending out of its vertices. Or it would be, aside from the white-hot fractures that almost separate the bottom left vertex from the rest of the symbol.

Semyon can’t help but feel like the Novakid is somehow staring at him without eyes. “Are they...conscious?” he eventually musters the courage to ask.

Bronzemarch shakes his head as he finishes wrapping the bottom end of Semyon’s jacket around the Novakid and tucks the remaining nanoweave into his trouser pocket. “Grave. No. She’s vented a lot of plasma and received serious damage to her brand somehow.” Gently he slips his arms under the Novakid and lifts them—her, apparently—up as if she hardly weighs anything at all. Which she probably doesn’t. Then he nods back towards town. “Directing. We need to stabilize her as best we can. Go get the bed ready for her, then talk to Riku and see if he has any access to raw metal suppliers. We may need some.”

“Got it.”

~~~~~

And thus it begins! Stellar Acclimation is going to be the first “episode”—as I like to call it—of I Was The Sun!

Next Chapter>>

[dreampearls]

gets so sad over collei

[ashthewaterghoul]

You Guide Me In To Safety And Silence - A DewTom One Shot

Runts weren’t exactly uncommon but Quintessence runts were a particular rarity. Quints were so strong that the idea of a pure Quint being a runt was damn near unthinkable. And Copia had just managed to pull one - who looked days away from the Beyond - from the depths of the pits. No one quite knew how long it had been since this Quint had crossed over and the portal shut. But still, no one had even so much as hissed in a breath. That was until Dew snapped into gear, “Fuck this shit.” Or, Dew helps Phantom after being summoned, and they find out they both share a less-than-desirable trait amongst Ghouls.

Words: 2.5k

Rating: Teen and up

Relationship: Dewdrop/Phantom (platonic)

Tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, cuddles, runts, branding (mentioned/discussed not shown), scars, soft & caring Dewdrop, they/them Phantom, Phantom needs a hug, Phantom gets hugs, summonings, implied/referenced previous t0rture and abu$e (basically just Dew realising what a lot of Phantom's scars and mannerisms are indicative of), uhhh idk what else to tag, help.

A/n: Mind the tags in regards to references made to Phantom's past, all are brief mentions and nothing's in too much detail. Please let me know if I missed any tags!

Title from 'Telomeres' by Sleep Token

~~~

    No one could quite believe the sight of the little Quint that landed on the altar. They were summoning a Quintessence Ghoul… right? Quints were usually big and bulky, a reflection of their cosmic-fuelled powers. Omega and Aether were your typical, stocky Quints, Delta and Swiss being Quint-aligned had some of the typical presentation as well.

    So why was this one so tiny?

    It clocked for everyone instantly what they were, and the Clergy’s eyes all turned to Copia, who was flushed in embarrassment at the attention. The man had an incredible connection to the unholy divine and had summoned six Ghouls by himself before this, his other three inherited from his brother. His stellar record had only led to a great amount of respect, but clearly that luck had just ran out because Copia had just summoned a runt.

Read below the cut or on ao3

    No one instantly went to the shocked and shivering Ghoul on the altar. They were so curled in on themself, they looked even smaller. The little clothing the Ghoul had on - as was typical down in the pits - revealed their twiggy frame, joints and bones sticking out under their patchy scarred skin.

    Usually, Copia helped the Ghoul off the altar and threw a blanket over them, and get their permission to bind their souls to him and this Ministry. Then the pack would embrace them and the lot of them would spend a confinement period in the den, just them, no humans and no one would leave unless it was essential so the new summon could start to acclimate to life on the surface, and start to form a bond with the pack.

    But everyone was stood gawping at the runt in the summoning circle.

    Runts weren’t exactly uncommon but Quintessence runts were a particular rarity. Quints were so strong that the idea of a pure Quint being a runt was damn near unthinkable. And Copia had just managed to pull one - who looked days away from the Beyond - from the depths of the pits.

     No one quite knew how long it had been since this Quint had crossed over and the portal shut. But still, no one had even so much as hissed in a breath. That was until Dew snapped into gear,

    “Fuck this shit.”

    He defied protocol as he took off his uniform’s cape and jacket, walking up to the altar to drape them over the Ghoul, who’s fangs where clacking together with their shivers. Well, no, actually. It was just the one fang, Dew noticed as he got closer. The other three had fallen, or probably rather were ripped out. Dew couldn’t spend too much time thinking about it though because their whole body was wracked with shivers, obviously in shock and suffering from the temperature change between the pits and Earth.

    “What’s your name?” Dew asked softly in Infernal.

    “Ph- Pha-“ They rasped before choking on air, probably not having had water anytime recently if the way their skin hung on their bones was anything to go by.

    Dew left the altar to grab one of the water bottles from the floor alongside some food, snatched the blanket Copia still had draped over his arm and gave it all to the Ghoul. They wolfed down the fruit, guarding it close to them as they did so, and cocked their head slightly at the bottle.

    “Drink from this,” Dew said as he cracked it open, “it’s like a waterskin.”

    They carefully alternated between giving it cursory sniffs and small tastes. Dew’s heart ached because a Ghoul usually only did that when they’d purposefully been given tainted water before.

    His soul twisted even more when he caught sight of the brand on their chest. It was the Infernal rune to mark a runt, roughly translating to “the ultimate, worthless shame bringer”. Dew had prayed that clans would stop using the scarification but clearly his prayers hadn’t been heard, and not for the first time.

    Dew soon grew a small smile as they eagerly gulped down the water. They were sat up now, but their knees were hugged tight to their chest. The cape, jacket and blanket around them made them look impossibly small, despite glassy eyes, wide with dozens of emotions.

    “So, what’s your name, little Bug?” Dew asked again.

    “Phantom.” They said quietly.

    “Hi, Phantom. I’m Dewdrop, but most people just call me Dew. Do you know any English?” Some Ghouls already knew a lot of the human language, practically being trained for life on the surface.

    They shook their head.

    “That’s okay. I didn’t know any when I was summoned.” Dew assured. His friendly demeanour for Phantom hardened as he turned to face Copia, still gawping, and switched to English, “Their name is Phantom, they don’t know any English so I will translate for them.”

    That seemed to snap Copia from his daze, “Sì, sì. Grazie, Dewdrop.” He muttered, reaching for his rosary.

    “Phantom?” Dew turned back to the new Quint, “This is Copia. He runs everything around here, and he’s going to offer if you want to stay here, and be bonded to him as his servant.”

    The last word made Phantom stiffen, and their eyes went even wider with pure fear. Dew remembers feeling like that too.

    “It’s just a word. It won’t mean the same thing here as it does down there. You’re safe now, I promise.” Dew said firmly.

    “S- safe?” Phantom said, almost kit-like wonder in their big, round eyes, “They said I’d never know ‘safe’.”

    Dew swallowed a growl, and managed to smile instead in a manner he hoped was friendly.

    “Well, they were wrong. I swear, you’ll be safe here.” Dew said.

    Phantom nodded and Dew turned back to Copia.

    The Papa walked up to Phantom and removed one of his gloves, rolling up his sleeve.

    “Phantom. I, Papa Emeritus the fourth, do hereby pledge to keep you safe and provide for you, in exchange for your work and servitude to spread His most unholy word. Do you accept?”

    Dew translated and Phantom nodded their agreement to Copia.

    “Hold your hand out like he has, then he’ll hold onto your forearm, you do the same. That rosary, that he’s holding, will wrap around where you’re holding on, and it might feel a bit weird but that’s just the magic, okay?” Dew informed and Phantom reached out a shaky hand.

    Dew saw how multiple of Phantom’s digits had been declawed on both hands, the others were blunt and uneven. Dew sported a sad smile at Phantom being such a fighter, the many battles and loses spelled out over their body for all to see.

    The magic washed over the room, and this was usually the point where the others would lave them with love and company before guiding them back. But none of them still seemed to want to move.

    “Come on.” Dew said to Phantom, “I’ll show you where you’ll be living now.”

    They hopped down and Dew wrapped an arm around them, the other reaching over to hold their hand that they took in a vice grip. As they walked out, Dew bared his fangs in a snarl to the rest of his pack for their horrific failure.

    Dew took Phantom through side corridors and hidden passages, knowing how much the Siblings love the new summons and the gossip that comes from them. Dew thinks Phantom may collapse if faced with that, so took them through the route away from all eyes but the rats that ran free in the passage ways.

    They got to the den, and Dew showed Phantom to an empty room.

    “This is where you’ll sleep now. The beds can be turned into nests quite easily, and we have running water here, hot or cold, which is nice.” Dew explained, walking them in and sitting them down on the edge of the mattress, “The door and windows can be locked so no one can get in either.” He said, demonstrating both.

    “‘s big.” Phantom muttered.

    Dew nodded, “Doesn’t stop feeling like that.”

    “Why’d you help me? ‘m a runt. No one ever helps me.” They questioned.

    Dew let out a heavy breath and reached for his vest, cravat, and blouse, undoing them to reveal the old brand on his own sternum, “Because I know how it feels.”

    Dew will never forget the day of his accidental summoning. How he was simply trying to get some water from a lake and he just-so-happened to be next to the Ghoul later known as Delta as they got summoned and his weak little soul managed to slip through. No one came to help him, Terzo had to bond him without his understanding because no one stepped up to translate for Dew. He pulled himself off the altar, and stalked after the group of Ghouls as they showed Delta back to the den and started their acclimation. Dew didn’t join them in the big nest in the common room they all slept in for those weeks. He didn’t form proper pack bonds with them and isolated himself until Omega, their leader, came into his room to apologise for the pack’s behaviour. The damage had been done though, and Dew never formed full bonds with them. He didn’t have a complete bond until Aether, Mountain, Zephyr and Ifrit came along.

    From all that Dew promised himself that if another runt was ever summoned, he would never let them suffer a fraction of what he did.

    “If you stay in here,” Dew said, fixing his shirt closed again, “I’ll get some stuff to make a nest, and I’ll get you some clothes, okay?”

    Phantom just nodded again, pulling the blanket and Dew’s pieces of uniform tighter over them.

    Dew left the room and went to his own. He quickly changed into some sweats and a t-shirt, grabbing some for Phantom too. He stacked his arms with pillows and blankets from his own nest to add to what little to Ministry provided.

    He went back in to see Phantom hadn’t moved a single muscle. The pale patches of scarred skin probably meant that they had seen some severe punishment for disobedience, and Dew had to hold back tears. Runts were often used as slaves, for a bit of fun, treated as nothing more than a shit smear because that’s all they were worth. A Quintessence runt especially would be of particular interest.

    “Do you want to get changed? I can leave while you do, if you want.” Dew said. Bodies and nakedness were never usually a problem for the open airs of the pits, but what it was likely Phantom had been through, he thought it best to offer.

    But Phantom just got up and started changing. Dew turned his back to give them some privacy, and snuck a tiny glance a couple minutes later to make sure they were done. He turned back to their nest and set up the pillows and blankets into something basic that Phantom could fine-tune to exactly how they wanted. Dew finished laying the last blanket down and Phantom stared at it.

    “You okay, Bug?” Dew said.

    “Never had a nest.” Phantom muttered.

    “I hadn’t either before coming here, but unholy fuck, they are a game changer. Especially as you get closer to other people, because sometimes we all swap blankets and pillows and plushies so our nests smell of each other.” Dew smiled.

    Phantom leant over and sniffed the nest, “Smells like you.”

    “It’s stuff from my room.” Dew said, “Come on.”

    He climbed in and tucked himself under one blanket, lifting a different one for Phantom to duck under. They did so hesitantly, but Dew could see the relief from the cosiness coming over their face and body as they sunk more and more into it.

    “Comfy?” Dew asked with a smile as they burrowed down.

    Phantom just nodded again.

    “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” Dew remarked.

    “Was always told I shouldn’t speak ‘cause anything I said was as worthless as me.” They murmured, eyes far off while a claw lightly petted over one of the bats printed onto the fleece blanket.

    “I promise it’s different here. You’ll be listened to, and you’ll be respected.” Dew assured, “The others, they’ve never seen someone like us be summoned before, they didn’t know what to do. They’ll come around and apologise if you let them though. Then maybe we can all set up a big nest together in the common room?”

    They nodded again, curled up into a ball on their side, their tail coiled around their abdomen with their arms in a self-soothing attempt that must be instinct at this point for them.

    “Do you want me to hold you?” Dew asked, knowing how much he craved it when he was summoned, “It won’t be like the others. I won’t even directly touch your skin, if you don’t want.”

    Phantom still didn’t meet Dew’s eyes as they thought about it. Dew wriggled down in the nest so he could actually see them.

    “Look at me.” He said softly, and for the first time, they did. Dew’s breath was nearly taken straight from his lungs at the gorgeous violet of their irises, so incredibly bright despite all the darkness they’d seen and been through, “I won’t hurt you. I’m not whoever’s hurt you so much in the past. They’re gone. They’re all gone. And they can’t get you here.”

    Phantom’s gaze softened and they nodded.

    “Okay.” Dew smiled, “How do you want me?”

    Phantom thought about it for a moment, probably never having a choice laid in their hands before.

    “Um, by there.” They pointed to the headboard.

    Dew propped a pillow against the wood to save his back, then sat up against it, “Like this?”

    Phantom nodded.

    Dew pulled his own blanket back around him, and opened his arms so Phantom could position themself however they wanted. And slowly, they crawled over and lay on their side, their head against Dew’s chest and listening to his heartbeat. Their hand rested next to Dew’s face and traced the scars of his brand through his t-shirt. Usually Dew hated anyone touching there, not even Aether or Mountain who’d he’d known longest were allowed to, but something about Phantom made Dew want to protect them with everything his shitty little body could give.

    Dew reached for the bat blanket they had adopted and draped it over them, when he rested his hands down over Phantom, he made sure that they didn’t go beneath the blanket and stayed far away from anywhere that might trigger some unpleasant memories.

    “‘s quiet here.” Phantom whispered after a while.

    “Yeah, the walls are quite thick so you have your own little safe space in here. You can decorate it however you want as well. It’s yours and no one call tell you ‘no’ in here.” Dew said.

     They stayed in silence for a little while longer, and Dew eventually starting whispering and babbling reassurances as they snuggled together for the next few hours.

    “You are safe here, I promise, Phantom. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.” Dew said.

    They took a deep breath and, in English, said a single word,

    “Safe.”

Click here to see the amazing art that @mak-be-ghouled did bc it is so fucking adorable!!!!

One shot master list can be found here or in my pinned post

[twistedlovelines]

Fem Riddle... Oh the potential for angst is so delicious it makes me salivate

Riddle lived her whole life trying to be the best she can do that she can get a husband that's worth joining families with. Being the only rosehearts child and a daughter her parents told her that she'll be keeping her name when she marries, which lessens the number of potential suitors.

Her first exposure to sapphic relationships was when she was sneaking into the bakery and saw two women on a date kiss. She thought she felt shock and disgust at the display but as she becomes older she realises it was awe and jealousy.

As she started attending night raven college she'd notice other girls on campus acting more lovey than platonic towards eachother. Every time she saw any public displays of affection she'd turn red and run the other way.

Her mind always goes back to the lecture her mother gave her when she noticed her staring at a girl for too long. She's the heir of Rosehearts, her duty is to her house. Not for silly flings with college girls she'll never see after graduation.

That mantra always eased her mind. Until a ln otherworldly prefect enters her life. She hates her. What is wrong with that one? Why can't she dismiss the way she feels about them like she always did? She hates her.

Riddle had not known peace of mind since she met her. Studying has become more difficult, that's how hard it has become.

She figured it out when she was lecturing the prefect for sitting in her seat one day. No one else was in the room, all other seats were empty. But what did the prefect decide to say?

"you can always sit on my face, a two for one deal if you will. You'll have your seat and I'll shut up."

Riddle is shellshocked, absolutely flabbergasted. What is wrong with the prefect???? Only later that night does she realise that would've accepted the prefects offer. With glee, even.

She can't tell anyone, not even her childhood friend. No one will believe her! The prefect is normally so reserved that she almost thought she hallucinated their words.

For now though she'll repeat them in her mind and use her hands and imagination.

(oh riddle the moment you learn what comphet is it's over for you 🥰)

-🔱

🔱 consider: singing Good Luck Babe by Chappel Roan in the shower after this happens <3 something about the nonchalant, utterly comfortable prefect bothers her so much...the way your mere touch seemed to crack the glass closet she had been contained in, a small chip rapidly spreading, ravenous until the constraints shatter, glass laying at her feet, reflecting only herself....

i want to write a full fic on this and flesh it out because i do quite like this idea, but i hope you enjoy this small snippet of it for now <33

(fem! riddle x fem! reader)

When you had abruptly transferred to NRC, the headmaster decided it'd be best to select Riddle as your roommate- after all, she was courteous, was a stellar student, and would serve as a good influence on you! What better way to acclimate you to your (ethically run, soundly funded) new campus than letting one of the top students be your guide? You could practically hear him preen at his own words.

Nonetheless, Riddle was a good roommate. She went to bed at 10:15 P.M. sharp every night (except for Fridays and Sundays, in which she would sleep at 10:45 P.M.), was organized, didn't hog the shower for inordinate amounts of time, and would even offer to assist you if you seemed to struggle in a subject.

Yet this tidied, perfectly drawn together image she had only made you curious. She didn't have a boyfriend (and had asserted that her ideal husband would be of respectable status, honor, and career) when you had asked if she had one in mind. Her reactions to the notion of traditional romance seemed...scripted. Unfeeling.

You didn't press her much after that. Despite her near-aversion to romance, you often noticed her eyes drifting towards it, pulled in by some magnetic force. Interestingly enough, though, she seemed to only pay attention to women. Women who held hands. Who kissed each other on the cheek before parting to their respective classes, who shared a strawberry sundae when the weather got too hot.

[hashtag-xolo]

I’m sure you’ve been asked this before, but what’s it like having a dog who needs to wear clothes all/a lot of the time? Do breeders usually train puppies to be good about that—or rescues work with the dogs about it? Or is it more of an as needed thing where some dogs don’t need to wear clothes so much? And I remember hearing that there’s a lot of maintenance for their skin, but what about the fur they do have (the little patches, not necessarily the coated dogs); I’d guess it's not much different than a fully-coated dog just because there isn’t much of it?

Also, I think Nico has the same--but much smaller--harness as one of my family’s dogs. This isn’t relevant, but it is pretty fun seeing a tiny version of it (or something very similar) in the wild.

Honestly the needing to wear clothes frequently is my biggest complaint about hairless xolos 😂 Don't get me wrong, it's fun to have a dog whose look you can so easily customize so drastically! But also, having to swap clothes, make sure your dog is in the right level of clothing for the weather, and whatnot before going out can be a hassle for me and for the dog. Clothing also collects dirt and oil at different rates so the fabric choice you make is really important. For instance, fleece collects dirt like mad so even though it's soft it's really not ideal for xolo clothing because it can cause pimples to form really quickly. Other fabrics aren't as comfortable on the skin and so speaking of that harness, it has a mesh interior that doesn't feel very nice so I prefer he has a shirt between it and his skin to prevent irritation from any chafing. (Keeping it snug helps that but can't prevent it entirely either...) Aside from protecting them from the cold, you also need to make sure that xolos with unpigmented skin have sun protection. That means clothing or sunblock. Plus the expenses of buying said clothes which can be a pretty penny when it comes to quality brands.

But on the flip side, I don't have to worry about a matted coat or spending thirty minutes getting mud off my dog either because bathing him takes five minutes from start to finish (unless the shampoo needs to sit). Nor do I need to spend a lot of money on grooming either. So in the end it's really just picking where you want your time, energy, and money spent.

As far as skin and coat care, the skin care regimen will truly differ from dog to dog. Some xolos have basically no skin problems. Some have really bad skin issues their whole life. Others just get hormonal acne as adolescents and then they clear up. And others still have skin issues caused by diet or environmental factors that will get cleared up by changing whatever is causing them. Tzapo has basically no skin issues and just needed the occasional blackhead or pimple resolved. Nico has more skin problems but he was neglected as a puppy, doesn't have a stellar breeding line like Tzapo did, and he's an adolescent so it's hard to predict if these issues will be a constant problem or if he'll wind up with low maintenance skin. I'm hopeful that he will have less skin issues in time but if not, there are medications and special shampoos to help with dog acne, including some made with salicylic acid just like human acne products 😅 but their hair is really low maintenance especially in the (mostly) hairless variety. I occasionally detangled Tzapo's tail plume but that was it.

I am unsure of the extent that breeders go to desensitizing puppies to clothes but it's definitely something they should do considering many xolos will benefit from it. I think hairless xolos probably are easier to acclimate to clothing if only because it does make them more comfortable. I know that if it's cold Nico is way more thrilled to put his clothes on that when it's warmer. Tzapo was the same.

[songsofbloodandwater]

RE: people online talking about how Mercury Retrograde affects them negatively or urging others to do protection work because of this and that eclipse or trine or conjunction or stellar event of your choice. May I bring a different perspective to the table?

I haven't personally felt any negative repercussions. I have felt pressure and shifts here and there, but I wouldn't call that negative or malevolent. I actually only felt a surge of energy recently and, in fact, even did a money working on the day of the last eclipse!

Put down the pitchforks, I am a witch but I'm not senseless. I simply don't see any stellar events as inherently beneficial or malevolent. I find that reductive. Movements, conjunctions, eclipses, anything about the luminaries... is all part of the wider spirit ecosystem and part something else. Part warning and part lesson, and part opportunities that you're invited to take... or resist. It all becomes subjective when you take into consideration who these events are affecting and what the person is doing in relation to that.

You wouldn't call a wildfire inherently malevolent, yet it is destructive. It's simply nature finding it's way. It is an important part of many ecosystems ensuring fertility of the land and the correct sprouting of those seeds that need warmth and ash to grow. Same thing with those considered "malevolent" stars... they're wildfires or, given the current placement of certain Luminaries that seem to worry some of you so much, perhaps you can see them more as floods. A big flood. Where you can learn to go with the current or try to go against it and keep doing whatever it was you were doing before the flood happened.

So, forgive my ecologist brain for having no better way to explain this but see, if you're a very dry soil acclimated plant with no tolerance for salty marshgrounds, you'll obviously see this spring tide as malevolent. You could even argue that the sea is out to kill you, and you're a poor little innocent land plant. Evil Ocean. But other species thrive in the intertidal. I'm having the time of my life.

Assess your current situation, in all that is material and mundane and also in all spiritual fronts, consider what Spirits (up among the Stars, or related to them) may be working with you or against you, and how. You'll likely find more allies than enemies. That by itself is a reassurance, and you'll do good staying by their side until your "problems" are solved. Reorganize and restructure your plans accordingly, with the help of these allies. That could look like protection, yes, but hiding away in a little magic bunker isn't the one solution to everything that presents a challenge to you, or that could potentially be harmful to you and yours either. Sometimes it means walking away until the tide is gone instead of burying yourself in the sand. Sometimes it means learning to swim.

Sometimes it means an orca could get a taste of mouse for the first time. Or Moose, or God Forbid! even a Wolf! Who would've thought. What a great opportunity for the otherwise unthinkable to happen. What a sweet reminder that these are things that not only do happen, but happen more often than we think, and acknowledging it could serve us...

Yes, orcas have been known to eat moose occasionally. Get with the program. Terrestrial mammals prey on sea life all the time, why wouldn't we turn the tide? (very bad pun intended)

The "Cunning" part of witchcraft people talk so often about is exactly that, not letting anything step on you, instead use it as a stepping stone. Do you want to be the plant, the moose or the orca?

I don't think any particular stellar events demand doing more protection work from me than any other regular time. You should always have protective measures around your loved ones. But specifically to those practicing magic in any way? Protection wouldn't be my first thought. Put those shifts to good use. Don't just aim to leave unscathed. That's not doing you or yours any favor.

One of my favorite astrologers made a post a while back saying "The stars impel but do not compel". I wholeheartedly agree and I believe specially us, as magical practitioners, should be able to rise above these events. Whatever that means to you and your spirits.

[qismet]

ALTAIR. THE TWELFTH SEAT.

vampire, twelfth chair of the stellar council. 700+ years old, they/she. warden of the newly created, one of several presiding judges over misdeeds and crimes.

⁽ ¹ ⁾ altair is the brightest star��in the constellation of aquilais, and is the twelfth - brightest star in the night sky. name meaning, in arabic origin it means “ flying eagle. ”

⁽ ² ⁾ in chinese belief, altair is better known by its other names:  qiān niú xīng  (牵牛星 / 牽牛星) or  niú láng xīng  (牛郎星), translated as the cowherd star. these names allude to the love story,  the cowherd and the weaver girl, in which niú láng and his two children are separated from respectively their wife and mother zhinu by the vastness of the milky way. they can only meet once a year, when magpies form a bridge to allow them to cross the milky way to each other.

within the origins of this lore, vampires sit on a council born from the names of stars and their rankings of magnitude. vampires upon the council forego their original, human names, and take on the name of the star in which houses their seat. the corresponding number collates to rank and standing within the council, each has their own job from number one, to ninety-two. these are given based on importance and status level.

death is the only release from the stellar council.

vampires exist in their own separate world, adjacent to the human world and accessible through certain “ doors ” that have been placed. most vampires within the stellar council have access to their own door or can simply manifest between the two worlds with ease.

higher ranking vampires from forty and below are immune to the effects of sunlight, those below twenty are immune to the common stake through the heart scenario.

all vampires possess an innate power/ability, though vampires within the stellar council can covet these to new heights within their corresponding levels.

seats one through twenty meet on a regular basis (as regular as you can call the quick passage of time, for them), other levels of seats meet within their own terms and conditions as freely as they would like, with some travelling to meet with the seats of the first twenty to discuss important matters.

as a human altair and their sister were turned into vampires by sirius, the first seat. two hundred years later, altair became the twelfth seat and their sister the fifth, vega. in a brief history, vega was later killed and a new fifth seat was appointed, whom altair does not get along with and has tried to dispose of several times and still refers to them as their human name despite holding the fifth seat for more than 300 years.

altair has acclimated to the modern world exceptionally well, one of their innate talents being that of blending in, able to retract sharp fingernails and disguise their pointed ears, giving the outward shape of a regular human being.

their job as the holder of the twelfth seat is to act as a warden over newly created vampires and to access whether they have been made in malice, carelessness, or by a strict design. not all vampires under this lore possess the ability to turn human beings into their own kind, and so it is altair's job to make sure this is not done with the wrong intentions. certain vampiric venom breeds faulty vampires, in a way. this does mean that they have a lot of vampires under their charge, regarded as fledglings.

altair also acts as one of several judges of crimes against humans and vampires alike. vampires are under no strict instruction not to harm humans, but where the disruption of human life is considered catastrophic then matters must be dealt with swiftly.

altair's main ability is a form of hematomancy, the ability to read the past and present (and sometimes future) within the blood of others. for altair this manifests as needing both parties, themselves and the other person, needing to make an incision on their palms and press them together, a give and take of blood to activate the ability. with regard to what the other party receives, their incision will heal remarkably quick as a result of taking in altair's blood (this is not the only method in which altair can access this ability, it can be done through more forceful means).

altair can also choose to share her own past, present and future insight with the other party, but this is not information that is available simply upon contact.

other abilities include fast injury regeneration, various forms of magic, daylight resistance, ability to turn humans into vampires, light manipulation.

in reference to point ⁽ ² ⁾ , when altair's sister passed she left behind two of her own fledglings that she had turned herself. with nobody to care for them, altair took them under her wing and regards them as their own children, they can only see their “ mother ” through projections of altair's memories.

altair was born within the ming dynasty era of china, their father central to the government within their province. their forgone human name was li ( 理 li . great judge )  liángyù ( 梁 liáng . meaning mast, bridge, elevation, beam . 愉 , yú . meaning pleasant, delightful . )

personality wise, altair is carefree and can often be referred to as a nuisance for other vampires in the lower levels. she can be quite unhelpful towards their need for information/help from them, but she takes her responsibilities very seriously.

whilst some vampires on the stellar council have integrated into modern society, a vast majority have refused to. most notably would be sirius, the first seat, who has made no effort to mingle with the modern world or its inhabitants. another is capella, the sixth seat, whom altair bothers more than most, the two of them having formed a close bond from altair's ascension as the twelfth seat. altair constantly battles to force capella into the modern world and showers them in trinkets that she claims they're missing out on.

[sioster]

i am so intrigued by digital entity wilbur, can he communicate with dream somehow? i thought of dream playing a computer game or something and wilbur inserts himself into it like a glitch to mess with him hehe

He can!! He takes on the facade of a digital helper that can do a bit too many things ... a mix of bonzi buddy and a shimeji.

At first he keeps himself in check and acts fairly normal for a digital helper to buy time and figure out if the antiviruses on Dream's pc can do anything to him (he finds a way to disable their functions the second day after getting there.)

After he acclimated and knew that there's nothing that the human can do to get rid of him, he starts being more annoying and less like a normal program

(ex. Walking around the screen like a shimeji and commenting on what Dream's doing using little speech bubbles.

Dream writing a document for an assignment or work-

"Interesting choice of words! Were you, or are you, by any chance, an expanded math student? (I am implying that your choice of words is less than stellar*)"

*read as: 'shit')

At some point he gets bold enough and hungry for more information on Dream's behaviour, that Wil straight up posseses his smart fridge.

[raincode-archives]

Chapter 1 Loading Screen Trivia

Note: Currently, I do not know which of these trivia may be general game trivia or Chapter 1 exclusives (if there is any). And there may be trivia I'm currently missing that I will add later on, if I find any more.

World Detective Organization (WDO) An extra-legal, extra-privileged organization devoted to eradicating the world's unsolved mysteries.

Detective Deed An identification card. These are granted by the World Detective Organization.

Master Detective Among the detectives belonging to the World Detective Organization, this is a detective with a specialized power called Forensic Forte that aids in their investigative activities.

Forensic Forte Those exhibiting innate talent for special powers like clairvoyance or mind-reading are trained by the WDO to develop a supernatural investigative ability called Forensic Forte or simply, Forte.

Amaterasu Corporation Many products are in development, some of which cannot be made public.

Amaterasu Peacekeepers A department of Amaterasu Corporation. They serve as a sort of police force within Kanai Ward.

Kamasaki Underground Passages A number of passages form a grid beneath Kamasaki District. First-timers tend to get lost, but with some acclimating, it's easy to get around quickly.

Riverbank Due to polluted waters, fish are rarely caught.

Kanai Station The only train station in Kanai Ward. It's a magnificent building, but seldom has customers because of the city's isolation.

Ginma District The high-class commercial area of Kanai Ward. There are cafes and restaurants, as well as a large art gallery and clocktower.

Art Gallery The premier art museum in Kanai Ward, located in Ginma District. The space in front of the art gallery is decorated with a giant dinosaur fossil (replica).

Detective in Training A person currently being trained by the World Detective Organization to become a detective.

Nocturnal Detective Agency Inside this detective agency are a kitchen and shower. Yakou lives here.

Kamasaki District The liveliest, most bustling area in Kanai Ward. Many people reside here, and a variety of shops and stalls line the streets.

Kamasaki District Crime generally isn't bad here, unless you venture deeper inside, that is.

Church The priest hears out the residents' worries, offering guidance toward the path of righteousness.

Sun & Moon Hotel A hotel located in Kamasaki District. Since Kanai Ward's isolation from the world three years ago, the number of guests has dramatically decreased.

Secret Club An illegal, members-only casino located in Kamasaki District. One can enjoy slots, roulettes, and card games, but many games have obscene rates and cheating is rampant.

Ginma District Security tends to be pretty tight, likely on account of the frequent patronage by Amaterasu Corporation executives and other wealthy individuals.

Art Gallery There were many visitors prior to the isolation of Kanai Ward, but current attendance is not stellar.

Clocktower A long-beloved landmark among local residents, many of whom are strongly attached to it.

Clocktower The giant clocktower looming over Ginma District. There are clocks set in all four of its sides, so the time of day can be seen from anywhere.

Mansion A mansion located in the high-class residential district on Montclair Street.

Shien The currency used in Kanai Ward. A luxury car can be purchased for five million shien.

Meat Bun A specialty of Kanai Ward and comfort food to the locals. It's loved by children and adults alike.

"Mantou" A popular meat bun shop in Kamasaki District. Operation out of a street stall, the location changes daily. Very reasonably priced at 100 shien apiece.

"Dragon Palace" A popular meat bun shop in Ginma District. They sell at the higher-than-usual price of 500 shien apiece, but the owner insists it's due to superior seasoning.

"29/0" A meat bun shop in Kamasaki District. Relatively new compared to the other shops, they're struggling to attract new customers. The cheese meat buns are most popular, priced at 250 shien apiece.

Metal Fox The religion practiced at the church in Kanai Ward. Its symbol is a spear piercing a crescent moon. Its core doctrine is, "Thou shall not bear old prejudices."

Rumors About the Secret Club Credible rumors suggest there's a behind-the-scenes connection to Amaterasu Corporation.

Kanai Bus System A bus service running throughout Kanai Ward. The bus fee is fixed at 200 shien. Amaterasu Corporation employees ride free.

Kanai Ward Living Condition Perhaps because of the daily rainfall, some people in Kanai Ward don't mind getting wet.

Dronebrella An umbrella developed in the perpetually rainy Kanai Ward. It automatically tracks an authenticated user, shielding them from rain.

TV Programs Nearly all the TV programs broadcasted in Kanai Ward are sponsored by Amaterasu Corporation.

Popular Sports Parkour is popular among the young men of Kamasaki District. New problems have arisen however, what will all the trespassing and running across the top of food stalls.

Crosswalks The crosswalks in Kanai ward detect pedestrians and stop traffic for them. As such, it's fairly uncommon to see people waiting for the signal to change.

Means of Communication Most communications to people outside of Kanai Ward are tapped and monitored by Amaterasu. The phone at the Nocturnal Detective Agency uses a different type of line to prevent eavesdropping.

Treatment of Criminals Criminals captured by the Peacekeepers are sent to detention facilities where they are interrogated until they admit guilt; that is, if they're not disposed of on the spot.

Nail Man The culprit behind the serial murders occurring in Kanai Ward. The Nail Man's crime scenes area always locked rooms filled with nails.

Boy Kei Colan is his name. When his father has time off work, they always play catch together.

Jiel Colan's Apron A work apron made by camera manufacturer WhiteCross. The pockets are durable enough to hold heavy objects without losing shape.

Priest's Eyes Few people have seen the priest's eyes because he's always squinting. As a result, there's a rumor among clergy members that anyone who see his eyes will either become blessed or vanish.

Nun's Stockings All of the nun's red stockings have a thickness of 120 denier or higher. Sh's sensitive to the cold and seeks extra warmth.

Servant's Facial Markings The Metal Fox markings are simply makeup, not tattoos. They're painted on every morning.

Worshipper's Pastime He smokes at least once every hour. Gitan is his preferred brand.

Owner of the Mansion The owner of the mansion made a sizeable amount of money through real estate dealings. A man around the age of 30, an endless sea of rumours surrounds him.

Halara's Coin Halara attacks with a 1-shien coin. Where it lands is carefully calculated for later retrieval.

Flavor of Halara's Candy Depends on the mood. The worse the mood, the sweeter the taste; the better the mood, the lighter the taste.

Desuhiko's Bangs Desuhiko is particular about how his bangs look; it takes about an hour a day to style.

Desuhiko's Beanie Desuhiko's custom-made, designer beanie is waterproof, and cost him several months' pay.

Fubuki's Accessories Fubuki's necklace has a clock motif. The choker is decorated with video playback control symbols.

Vivia's Book Catalog Novels, columns, essays, all sorts of things. There's no particular preference for genre; he reads just to pass time.

Vivia's Garments There are just bandage-like wrappings beneath his coat, so it wouldn't be accurate to call it clothing.

Yakou's Lifestyle A complete night owl, he typically sleeps in until noon, even when there's work to be done. This nocturnal lifestyle was the norm until the Master Detectives arrived.

Seth's Creed The Burroughs family motto is, "Silence is golden." To this day, Seth mumbles in adherence to that creed.

Electrowave Detective A Master Detective with a Forte that can intercept and comprehend radio waves. This detective was not summoned to Kanai Ward.

[spark-lapis]

for the aita blorbos ask you sent in. where do i read more about these characters

aaaaaaaaa thank you so much !!

unfortunately they are my original characters (or more specifically, the character submitting the ask is mine, while the young man he works for belongs to @glitterkeecher ), so there isn't really a cohesive storyline available for them publicly yet

fortunately though, I am practicing writing more seriously so that I can actually start posting about them on my blog @spark-ocblog , and eventually I would really like to publish a book with them!

If there's genuine interest in this kind of thing, the particular storyline in that submission was one of the first that I was planning to write down formally for practice, so I could definitely consider posting it when I do!

The base storyline is that the author of the ask, an infamous murderer who is actually a vampire and assassin, mutually agrees to switch places/bodies with a parallel universe self who is human nobility. After acclimating rather poorly to high society, he eventually draws the curiosity of a prince who can tell he is acting strange for a noble. This interest is passive as first, but eventually culminates in the submitter seeing the king alluding to his abuse of the prince, with the prince silently hoping that the submitter might notice and help him in the future— the submitter ends up killing the king on the spot. The prince, shocked, helps him cover up the murder, then hires him as an advisor to really tie up any loose ends.

On my oc blog, the prince, Aine, is tagged with "#oc: 🩵", and the submitter, Orion, is tagged with "#oc: 🖤"!

EDIT: some media I could recommend with perhaps similar dynamics (though significantly less wholesome. sorry) are I Need To Suck Blood Tonight (which I read, paid, on Mangaplaza), Scum Villain's Self Saving System (which I have just finished volume 3 of, free, on The Internet Archive— this is the one that inspired my ask, actually!), and maybe The Captive Prince (which i read as physical novels from my local bookstore). Very severe content warnings are needed for that last one especially, but fair warning that SVSSS isn't particularly gentle on the themes either. I don't think I'm personally well equipped to provide these warnings in a general sense, so I mostly recommend just proceeding with caution or looking up things about them if you intend to read them!

In particular, INTSBT features a kind of repressed and naive old man who is somewhat subservient to a kind of fucked up guy in his 20s; SVSSS's similarity to the submission is hard to describe without spoilers, but it features a transmigrator who has some really interesting and dramatic power dynamics that end up balancing themselves out pretty well (in my opinion). Captive Prince doesn't have any sweet naive old men in it, but it does have some really interesting, if occasionally gruesome, character dynamics. And the writing is absolutely stellar if you can stomach the themes.

[scout-company]

Stellar Acclimation—Chapter 8: Soundless Song

“Bewildered. A chamber?” Bronzemarch echoes midway through Scout retelling her excursion, “In space?”

“Kinda, yeah. Except not our space.” Scout has sat down on the bed by now, and her nod makes her bounce on the bedsheet slightly. “Like, the stars were different, y’know?”

Bronzemarch sits down on his own stool that he pulled out while Scout was talking. “Puzzled. You think that…door…teleported you to a different star cluster?” he guesses, one rectangle eye quirked taller than the other in the most confused expression Scout’s seen on him.

Scout shakes her head with a frustrated crackle. “No, not that kind of ‘different.’ Like…” she fizzles and grabs at the air as she strains for words, “Like they weren’t even in this existence at all or somethin’. They ain’t stars y’all could see anywhere else.”

“Wait, so you think you got warped to another reality?” Semyon gawks. His voice is much clearer by now, and he’s been trying to finally dust himself off until just now. 

Scout can only shrug. “Maybe?”

The sandstorm outside whistles for a moment, filling in the brief silence until Bronzemarch shifts slightly backwards on his stool and prompts, “Intrigued. So what was this chamber like, then?”

“…It was mighty cold,” Scout hums, “Reckon that was ‘cause of all them blasters in the ceiling. One got my foot; almost froze it solid. And…I guess the whole place felt like them stars? Dunno.”

“Prompting. What kind of space was it? Large? Small?”

Scout tilts her head, the wisps of her corona idly floating upwards as she thinks. “Kinda…tall and long? Like a tunnel: I started in one chamber, ended in another, with them blasters atwixt me an��� the end. Other than that, though, it was plumb empty. Save for this one chest,” she adds with a pop, suddenly remembering the loot in her pocket. She reaches her hand into one pocket and pulls out that weird stone disk, being careful to not jar the circuitry-like flakes on its surface. 

Both Bronzemarch’s and Semyon’s eyes grew wide with curiosity as Scout set the disk on the bed next to her. 

“What is that?” Semyon marvels, staring at the disk.

“Ain’t quite sure,” Scout shrugs, studying the disk for a moment herself before reaching into her other pocket. “Some sorta machine ditty I reckon, but I can’t quite tell. Looks mighty funny, don’t it?”

Bronzemarch glances at her briefly before studying the disk some more. “Fascinated. I don’t think I’ve ever seen circuitry like that. Thoughtful. I’m not even sure that is circuitry.”

“It’s a somethin’. I also found this thingy,” Scout adds, pulling out the dagger. Again it soundlessly sings that mysterious energy that resonates in her brand like the softest tuning fork—stronger when she holds it close to her brand, or even close to her own body, and softer when she holds it out for Bronzemarch to take. “Take a gander. It’s got the same energy as the chamber, somehow.”

“Curious. The same energy…?” Bronzemarch echoes as he gingerly takes the dagger from her hand. For a moment he holds it like it could go off anytime, but then he holds the cloth-wrapped handle more securely in one hand and lightly pinches the flat sides of the blade with the other. Slowly he twirls the blade, inspecting both sides. “Bewildered. Is this blade metal or stone?” he muses, tilting his head at the blade in his hands, “I can’t even tell.”

Semyon does his best to lean over and around Bronzemarch’s shoulder to peek at the blade, but eventually he holds out a hand and requests, “Can I see?”

Bronzemarch glances at Scout briefly, but when she shrugs lightly, he hands the blade to Semyon. Semyon’s hands are big enough he can almost fit the whole blade in one palm, but still he gingerly holds it in two. He grunts a curious sound as he slowly bounces his hands as if testing the weight of the blade. “I…think it’s metal. It’s just not polished.”

“It was in that funny chest for who-knows-how-long,” Scout points out with a bubble of a laugh.

Semyon quirks an amused smirk at her before handing the dagger back to Bronzemarch, who inspects the blade one last time before finally handing it back to Scout handle-first.

“Impressed. You should keep ahold of this until we can identify what metal it is,” Bronzemarch says as she accepts it back.

Scout idly acknowledges him with a hum as she holds the dagger. Once again the blade sings in her brand as if happily declaring its return to her. As she puts it away, she decides it sounds like a pixie. A pointy pixie.

But studying the blade and recalling the look of the chest she found it in prompts another question. “So…y’all never knew there was a door down there?”

Semyon shakes his head with a frown and wide eyes while Bronzemarch confirms, “Contemplative. I…can’t say we did.”

“And y’all have been here how long?”

“Informative. Only five years. Haven Valley isn’t very old.”

Scout tilted her head with a fizzy huff, her bob flicking at the ends. “Oh. So y’all never poked around them caves?”

It’s Bronzemarch’s turn to shake his head. “Reluctant. Not much, no. Instructing. However,” he adds, standing up from his stool to peek out the window at the whistling sandstorm outside, “Later on, should you chance upon another one of those doors, let someone know.”

“Right.”

Bronzemarch peers at the window as if he’s studying something for several moments, long enough that Scout turns around on the bed to look at it herself. But she doesn’t see anything except the fabric straining against its ties in the wind. What’s he looking at?

At length he finally turns away from the window to walk over to his work table. As he does he mentions, “Optimistic. But before you do any more exploring, Scout—once this storm passes I have something to show you.”

Scout perks and whips around to look at him, brightening and corona floating eagerly. “Really?” she whistles, “What?”

“Reminding. Once the storm passes,” he simply says.

Meanwhile Semyon’s eyebrows raise almost to his goggles on his forehead. Excitedly he starts, “Wait, are you going to show her the—”

Only for Bronzemarch to cut him off with a sly finger to his mouth. And somehow that makes Semyon grin even more. 

It feels like forever before the sandstorm finally passes. Semyon and Bronzemarch both clearly know what this “something” is, but despite Scout’s continued pestering, neither tells. Not even a hint besides Semyon assuring her that “it” will be awesome. What in tarnation are they hiding?

But finally the storm does pass, and as soon as it does, Bronzemarch grabs a few small things from his work table, including his own Matter Manipulator and a small tablet, then beckons for Scout and Semyon to follow him.

He leads them across town, past several hills and a few more shacks that Scout hasn’t gotten the opportunity to see yet. All the shacks have a new layer of sand dusting their roofs and filling the cracks between the bricks in their walls; all the fabric drapes are more beige than blue and yellow. Idly Bronzemarch cleans some of the sand with a sweep of his Manipulator, a motion Scout copies once or twice.

But as they approach a hill on the far side of town, with a cloth curtain similar to the one marking the entrance of Bronzemarch’s workshop, Bronzemarch briefly turns to Scout and Semyon and instructs, “Firm. Now, once we get to the Outpost, Scout, don’t wander off.”

“Outpost?” she bubbles curiously. Is that what they’ve been referring to?

Semyon beams, “It’s really cool, Scout. You’ll see.”

Bronzemarch nods, but then wags a finger at Semyon briefly as he turns back around and adds, “Reminding. That goes for you too though, Semyon. No wandering. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

Semyon’s expression instantly drops as he double-takes at Bronzemarch. His face and ears flush like they just got sunburned as he sputters, “T-that was once, Bronzemarch!”

Smoothly Bronzemarch pushes the curtain aside and ducks through as he points out, “Teasing. And you got lost for nearly 24 hours.”

“I was 14,” Semyon protests.

Scout can’t help but bubble a bemused giggle at how scrunched Semyon’s disgruntled face gets when Bronzemarch only replies with a wave of his hand. He shoots a look at her, his face squishing even more for a second before melting to resignation as he sighs and nods onwards. “Whatever. Let’s just get going.”

Scout just shrugs to herself as she follows them past the curtain, through a short tunnel only supported by the bare minimum amount of wooden framework around another pool of that shimmering healing water, and past yet another curtain.

She nearly staggers when she sees what’s waiting past the curtain.

A spaceship.

It’s huge, standing almost as tall as the hill it’s partially hiding behind despite being thoroughly grounded. Despite a thick layer of sand and scuffs here and there, its hull shimmers a golden white in the still-dusty sunlight, with the orange stripes tracing its chassis like speed streaks catching the same light as glittering copper. Cresting the thickest of the stripes, one that runs along the whole length of the ship, is some sort of writing in thick, blocky letters Scout can’t parse. But presumably it’s the ship’s name. And adjacent to the writing is a blocky, winged-horseshoe-like symbol, partially worn away by time but still standing strong.

Bronzemarch glances at Scout over his shoulder. “Proud. You like the ship, Scout?” 

“It’s amazin’…” Scout gawks, voice trailing off to a trill.

“Confident. Wait until you see the inside.”

~~~~~

<< Previous || Next >>

[kindheart525]

Aunt Sunset wasn’t going to be leaving very soon, and Luster couldn’t spend forever hiding in her room. As awkward as she felt around these new relatives, it was getting lonely hiding from them, plus she had to admit it was a bit rude. So Luster decided to finally come out and show herself.

She’d heard quite a bit about her Aunt Sunset before. How smart she was, how close she and Sunburst used to be, that kind of stuff. Mostly good things…and then she ran away for some reason. Luster didn’t know why and finding out wasn’t one of her priorities, but it did make her wary about the kind of pony Sunset was.

The only thing she could do was find out for herself.

“Look who finally decided to come out!”

Her Nana Stellar chirped out wryly, her “welcome” only making Luster more uneasy.

Sunset wasn’t having it, she shot her mother a dirty look and gestured for her to zip it. To go easy on the poor filly who surely must have been through enough.

Then she turned to greet said filly herself.

“Hello Luster! It’s so nice to meet you!”

Luster stared up at this stranger, this aunt she’d never met, and almost didn’t know what to say.

“Um, hi. It’s…nice to meet you too.”

She had hardly a clue where to start, she barely knew anything about this mare at all. But if there was one thing she learned from her studies, it was to start with the things she did know.

“I uh, I’ve heard a little bit about you. From…Papa. Like that you used to be really close before…I don’t know.”

The mention of her deceased father only made her feel even more crummy, so she did her best to shove that thought down and shift the topic elsewhere.

“And also that you used to be Queen Celestia’s student? That’s…cool.”

Luster forced a smile to show that she really did mean it despite her nerves.

Sunset could tell that the filly was having a hard time warming up to her. She didn’t want to talk about her dead brother either at the moment. Or…really anything from her past. There was so much she regretted that she didn’t want to get into it with her niece who she’d just barely met.

She could empathize with Luster’s unease, she felt it too, but her eagerness to get to know her kind of overpowered that as she started to fawn over her. She was overcome with nostalgia at meeting her brother’s foal, and she didn’t really know how else to connect with her in that moment.

“I did! And Mom—I mean, your Nana tells me you’ve been studying with Twilight Sparkle! She’s a really close friend of mine, you’re lucky to have her as a teacher. And I’m sure she’s lucky to have you as a student! I have no doubt that you’re a bright learner, it runs in the family. And also—“

As Sunset rambled on, Luster had trouble keeping up. It was nice that, for once, she had a relative who seemed to be treating her like her own pony and not just an extension of…them. But it was still so overwhelming, she barely knew Sunset at all yet Sunset was acting like she knew everything about her.

She didn’t know that deep down, Sunset was having a lot of the same doubts. All she could think about was how she was going to get acclimated to her new cousins on top of everything else going on.

~~~~~~~~~~

Previous: Pellicle Next: Smooth Sailing

[quiveringdeer]

Hi nat 😍 I’m on a yandere binge and I have to ask , how do you think Bertie would react to a yandere gf who wants to keep him all to herself, mayhaps collared in her basement, and enact violence on anyone else who looks at him? 🥺👉👈

Hey my sweet Tado! 🥰

Hmmm...So it's kinda hard for me to answer definitively, just from what lil I know/have seen of our bby Bertito.

Like I wanna say that he'd throw himself in the way to make sure no harm goes to that person buuuut our Bertito tends to be the type to stand bye and then aid someone after the fact. Not that he'd have that opportunity in this type of situation.

I think at first, your interest really surprises Bert. He's used to people being way more interested in his friends. I mean Annie, Porco and Reiner are hot, athletic and beautiful. Even if Annie and Pock have less than stellar personalities to most. And then Pieck is also gorgeous and kind, though her lowkeyness probably means it takes time for people to be drawn into her.

But anywho. Thing is, when folks approach HIM, it's usually as the setup to get closer to one of his friends. Which is fine with Bert. He's not really feeling bereft without the attention.

Yet when he catches and RETAINS Your attention. Guy is a bit baffled and overwhelmed by your adoration and devotion. Especially if it isn't built over a drawn out amount of time, like mooonths lmao. But, he's also so sweet. I think if he found something about you he liked and you all shared enjoyment in similar things, he'd welcome the attention and fall hard. He's the devoted type for sure.

Oooo it'd be a neat thing to delve into this situation where he's got his longtime crush on Annie (bless his heart) and you swooping in to try and curb that. Feel like the best coarse of action is to make yourself available in the absences that Annie makes readily available. It's not like she's ever led him on, but anywho, it'd be easy to insert yourself I think.

As for getting him into your basement and in a lovely collar that totally accentuates that beautiful neck of his? Well, I don't see Bertie putting up much of a fight? 😅 I dunno. Just get him acclimated to BDSM dynamics ((minus the needed consent which would make it legit BDSM dynamics)) and I think it'd be almost too easy a task to lead him into this circumstance. Poor guy.

If you'd want to get any real passion or rise at him, hurting one of his friends would be the trick. But why expend that energy when you have a perfectly loyal boyfriend pet at this point? Maybe for some spice down the line. 😌

[mythrilpencil]

Stellar Acclimation—Chapter 1: Unfamiliar Stars

The world around Scout is blurry as she slowly comes to. Blurry and far too bright. Very bright. Everything hurts. Ow….

Sunlight from an unfamiliar star filters through what might be a window above her head. It blooms far too brightly and illuminates enough dust in the air to blind her for several long seconds. But then she realizes that there’s something soft under her. Soft and a bit plush but hiding thousands of pokes. She would shift to try and push the pokes down but she’s too tired to bother.

Gradually Scout also realizes that there’s…wood above her head? She’s in some sort of small shack or something; a few wooden beams criss-cross along the ceiling, propping up some sort of beige brick. She only barely registers that she’s laying down after she half-contemplates trying to touch the low ceiling.

Why’s she in a shack? It’s warm and dusty and the middle of the day, but the last thing she remembers is…

Actually she can’t remember. Where was she just now? Before the shack? Can’t have been the shack, right? Why can’t she remember?

A shiver ripples through Scout’s plasma as a thought eats at her core. Maybe she’s dead. Or was just dead and is somehow not dead. Is being dead supposed to hurt?

Because everything still hurts. The shudder pings sharp feedback through Scout’s brand and makes her fizzle with pain. Which only sends more pain through her brand. And makes the sunlight feel even more bright.

Owwww…..

Something stirs near Scout’s head. Focusing on anything takes a huge effort, but after a moment she discerns…is that a face? Someone’s hovering over her head. Big nose, huge eyes, curly mauve fur everywhere but his face. He says something, but the words don’t register and the low frequencies of his voice make Scout wince.

The furry guy frowns when Scout doesn’t answer whatever his question was. He studies her for a moment—why does he keep glancing down her—before turning around and grunting something. Someone else is in there?

Scout tries to move, to turn her head and look at whoever the furry guy is talking to, but even the effort of moving her shoulder or turning her head makes the world ignite in pain again. Now her head feels dizzy and light as she wilts back into the almost-plush pillow she finally registers is under her head.

Low frequencies of hard footsteps on soft wood pierce through the haze enough for Scout to make herself try and focus again. This time to find a silvery metal head looking over her. The metal man has nothing on his head except for two domed plates over where ears might be on a different creature. He has a screen with two red rectangles for eyes in the middle of his face, and as he looks over her those rectangles narrow. Eventually he looks at her face and says, “Gentle. Are you awake?” His voice is a good deal quieter than the furry guy’s, but it’s tinny and still makes Scout wince.

Scout barely finds enough energy to mumble a blurry, “Yeah…”

The metal man’s eyes narrow a bit more, and his head tilts. What’s that supposed to mean? He shares a glance with the furry guy, who mutters, “What did she say?”

Scout bubbles blearily. But when the metal man shrugs and mutters back, “Bewildered. I don’t know. I don’t recognize that language,” she realizes that they’re speaking a different language. A round and soft, yet choppy and simple language that she somehow still understands. 

So dully she makes herself switch languages and repeat, “Yeah… ‘m awake… I think.” She’s distantly aware that her words are slurring together worse than someone who has just downed one too many swigs, but spacing words out takes energy she doesn’t have.

But still her answer makes the furry guy blink and bounce his shoulders with a surprised huff. “Oh! She does understand Common,” he grunts quietly. Then he leans forward, scooting whatever he’s sitting on towards her—making a gosh-awful grinding sound for a moment in the process—and asks, “How’re you feeling, then?” 

Scout buzzes quietly until the pain from the noise dies down and she can gather enough energy for words again. “Ow,” she fizzes, “You…sure I ain’t dead?”

A corner of the furry guy’s lip curls upwards in what’s probably supposed to be a friendly expression as he rumbles with a laugh, “No, you aren’t dead, fortunately. Nearly were, though,” he adds with a glance at the metal man.

“Wh…Whaddya mean?”

“Informed. Semyon found you just outside of town,” the metal man says, gesturing to the furry guy—guess his name’s Semyon, “Apparently you had just beamed down and were severely wounded.”

Scout’s plasma dims warily. “I what now?” she mumbles. Alarm and curiosity bubble a churning ripple through her plasma, somehow possessing her despite the pain and making her attempt to sit up. Her attempt doesn’t last long. She only manages to slip her right elbow under herself before her attempt to balance caves as she finds nothing supporting her left side. The metal man’s warning and Semyon’s alarm go unheard through the sharp spark and drone that escapes her as she flops back onto the bed. Nothing exists for a moment except pain reverberating through her brand and plasma and back again.

After a small star-filled eternity Scout barely registers a thick hand steadying her right shoulder and Semyon’s worried voice urging, “M-maybe don’t try to sit up just yet, ok? Not without help.”

“Clinical. You’ve lost a significant percentage of your plasma already. Sitting up right now would only cause you more pain,” the metal man adds.

Scout groans a long wave of static that bubbles through her chest. Which only makes more pain feedback through her brand. And as the worst of the blinding pain calms down, she dully realizes the rest of it still clutching to her back and left side. As well as a secure pressure wrapped around her middle and left shoulder. She gathers enough strength to at least lift her head and look at whatever is wrapped around her. 

And finds a lot of bright blue bandaging. It’s wrapped clear around her torso and even loops around her shoulder. Or the space her left shoulder should be.

She sparks with alarm and demands, “Wh—what in tarnation? What happened to my arm?!”

“Whoa! Calm down!” Semyon quickly urges, gently pushing down on her right shoulder until the sudden surge of energy leaves Scout wilting back into the pillow like a sad candle. “W-we don’t actually know. We’ve just done what we can for you, ok? Bronzemarch?” he then grunts almost pleadingly with an aside glance at the metal man. Bronzemarch. Whatever his name is.

“Expectant. We were hoping you would tell us what happened,” he gently notes. He pulls out a small tablet from the pocket of the trousers he’s wearing and scans whatever’s on its screen with his rectangle eyes narrowed almost to slits.

Scout just fizzes wearily, “How do y’all…expect me to know that.”

Bronzemarch’s eyes affect a frown. “Concerned. Do you not remember anything about the event?”

“…No…”

“Cautious. What is the last thing you do remember?”

Scout lays there for a long moment, straining to focus. Beyond the wood and brick and loose strands of thatch here and there above her head, beyond the strangers next to her…the only thing coming to mind is distant stars. Twinkling away like they’re outstretched hands trying to bring her home. Wherever that is.

Eventually the image of the stars fades, leaving a gaping empty feeling inside Scout, and not just because of low plasma or a missing arm. 

The wind outside whistles for her, punctuated by the sound of heavy fabric flapping. A few moments later Bronzemarch makes a sound like a recorded sigh and taps his tablet. “Diffusing. Let’s back up a bit, then. What’s your name?”

Scout gathers her focus back enough to register his voice and respond, “Scout.”

Tap tap tap. A sharp noise of metal on plastic but dull enough to not make her brand hurt too much. “Patient. Do you know what the date is, currently?”

“No…?”

More taps. “Pensive. Interesting,” Bronzemarch mutters.

Low frequencies of voices register, but for a moment Scout almost thinks they’re coming from Semyon grunting words she doesn’t understand. But when both Semyon and Bronzemarch glance up at the window above Scout, and when a shadow interrupts the stream of sunlight coming through, she realizes the voices are coming from outside.

And Bronzemarch and Semyon seem to recognize them. Bronzemarch’s eyes narrow to annoyed slits and his shoulders sag for the first time Scout’s seen him. “Exasperated. Semyon, go tell them to back off,” he sighs, “They’re being disruptive again.”

Semyon nods and stands up, backing up what Scout now registers is a stool from her bed and quickly striding out one of the shack’s two doors. He closes the door gently enough, but his footsteps are still heavy and the low frequencies of his bark at whoever is outside still pierce. Scout winces.

Meanwhile Bronzemarch’s shoulders continue to sag a bit as he shakes his head and says, “Weary. Sorry about that. A couple of the other townsfolk here get…a bit nosy, shall we say.”

Scout would laugh if she had an ounce more energy left over. But as it is her plasma just bubbles a bit in tired amusement. “S’alright,” she manages, “…Where is ‘here,’ anyhow?”

Bronzemarch slips his tablet back into the pocket of his trousers and brushes a wrinkle out of his black tunic as he glances at the window. “Cordial. We call this place ‘Haven Valley.’ Amused. I will admit it’s a better name than my first idea,” he muses with a short chuckle. A dull flop registers as thick fabric now blocks all the sunlight coming through the window, making Scout’s dull plasma illuminate the room like a candle in its stead. 

As he starts to walk to a corner of the shack occupied by a small work table decked with vials and jars of stuff Scout doesn’t recognize and doesn’t have the energy to focus on, he tells her, “Advising. You should try and get some rest, Scout. Your body needs time to regenerate the plasma you’ve lost. Patient. If you get hungry or need something, you can let either me or Semyon know. One of us will remain in here at all times until your condition improves.”

Rest sounds good. Scout dully fizzes against the sleep already trying to take her. Stars are already trying again to fill her mind. “Ok…” she eventually mumbles. “‘Night…Bronze-head.”

She doesn’t fully register what his reply is before sweet, painless stars take her.

~~~~~

<<Previous || Next>>

[brawlite]

omg brawls you're into cassluthen!! we (about 25 people) do ship it and were super active on discord for a time. the hiatus got to us, but a few are still going strong?? anyway super excited to see you're back on tumblr! i think we were mutuals on twitter a while back and i've followed you since the kylucc days, but am v shy (hence anon) so idk if we've actually spoken lol. anyway i do think there will be more fic once s2 comes out...whenever that happens

wow i sure am, pal. hit me like a brick to the back of the head, and look i was not expecting to get into anything star wars in 2024, let me tell u. it was not supposed to happen, not part of The Plan™ etc.

and yes! i have been bopping around on tumblr (though i am still on twitter, it is hell but i have become acclimated to the toxic environment like some kind of sulfur worm) for a bit now! it is fun! i am very glad to be back. the vibes are stellar.

if you are who you think you are (if you just followed me?) i am glad to see you again! you disappeared on twitter and i was like :( but also—if that isn't you & and we were mutuals, then i am sure i would similarly be glad to see you again! i am also v. shy, if that helps!

anyway, i very much blame @destronomics for this whole andor / cassluthen thing. i have been absolutely languishing in her dms like, absolutely distraught and rabid and without purpose and starting new wips like its my job. its horrible.