#all the trolls have to go through strife training

[sasster]

The Soldier and the Priest

You know how Ailzea is going through some things right now? WELL, he still has people that depend on him. Didn’t ya know?

Right so! Happy belated birthday to both Wren AND Seifer. <3 Those are some good guys right there.

[Doc]

--

Trolls of all sorts tend to find their way to the House of Restoration, this has been a reality since the death of that ruthless Reverend. A great deal looking to find a new home and community, some simply dropping in to say that they did, and the ones that come in search of an ear or shoulder for their strife.

There is no shortage of trolls that find their way to these church doors.

Ailzea is never bothered by their sudden appearances, armed with conversations that are just as profound for him as they are for them, and they are typically easy to find; Standing awkwardly among the members of his community with demons that weigh their heads and shoulders down.

Tonight a troll that he has never seen before stands at the entrance of the church, anxious fingers dancing and gripping rhythmically along the hem of a fleet sanctioned uniform. His fins twitch along to what Ailzea assumes is the beating of an erratic heart. Even the inexperienced in such matters could tell that he regretted even making the trip, the fear of retaliation clear as day in his eyes.

This stranger does not seem like trouble.

“I assume this is only a short visit?”

Though the priest, known for his soft spoken nature, approaches calmly, the soldier winces as though he’d been struck. Eyes better suited for a caged animal dart around wildly, and he takes a step that looks like he is much more likely to use it to jump out of his skin. He was poised to dart right back out those doors. The reaction seems more like he’d been burned, not like the typical response to a conversation starter.

The silent panic overtakes him as he swings his gaze around the room, the gears in his mind turning to cook up an excuse for having ended up here.

“My child. Whatever it entails, I will keep your visit between us.”

There is a beat of silence before the newcomer says anything.

“That,” he swallows. “I would greatly appreciate that, sir.”

“You may call me Ailzea.” the priest, offering a hand, says softly. “If you must honor me, Father Roatus will suffice.”

Once again, the violet blood is silent, for a much shorter stretch this time, before he swallows and accepts the offered hand.

“Thank you, Father. My name is Seifer.”

“Seifer,” he echoes. “What a lovely name.”

Hand in hand, the newcomer almost seems to melt into the embrace as the compliment reaches his ear and causes his drooping fins to perk for just a second. This is a man that has not known kindness in far too many sweeps.

“How may I ease your burdens, Seifer?”

“I don’t know why I am here. I think that I should not have come.”

As the priest leads the soldier to a vacant pew, he takes note of the way his fins fold to sit flat against his face, potentially in a bid to make himself appear smaller or in response to some form of expected abuse. Ailzea has been doing this long enough to know that no amount of words can convey to this poor soul that such abuse will not come, never at these hands, he merely squeezes Seifer’s as they take their seats.

“Well, you are here. Perhaps we can find a conversation to have.”

Seifer takes his hand back and folds both neatly into his lap, choosing to train his gaze on his feet instead of meeting Ailzea’s.

“Or we can sit in silence.”

His fins unfold and twitch a few times as he considers this, until finally he nods in the affirmative.

“Silence it is.”

The silence settles around the pair seamlessly, Seifer’s tail worries itself around his idle hands and his fins come to droop in a veil of sadness around his face. He looks like he must feel pathetic.

True to his word, Ailzea says nothing and instead focuses on the stained glass of the windows high above them. He appreciates the way the moons, now high in the cloudless sky, bathe them in their multicolor light.

It is a good night to unburden a new friend.

More time passes and the church empties of the few patrons that were milling about at the soldier’s arrival. If Ailzea had to guess, some form of community activity drew them away from the pewed room that protected the violet from the outside world. Perhaps these walls could do more to protect him.

Finally his tail uncurls from around his hands and he begins to card listlessly through his hair, then he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

The declaration does not take Ailzea by surprise,it is obvious on his face that he is sorry.

Sorry, pathetic thing.

He wonders who has been taking advantage of him. What can he do for him?

Ailzea says nothing, whatever he has to say may steal the courage away from the poor thing.

“I don’t know how to talk about this,” his fingers torment a lock as he searches for the words. “But they say you’re the one to talk to.”

The priest only nods.

“What if I don’t do it right?” 

He lifts his head up to fix his eyes on the purple blood, and his shoulders shake with his uncertainty. 

“There is no proper way to do any of this. The best you can do is free the worry from your heart. Speak to me, my child.”

Seifer takes a shaky breath, one that forces his shoulders to shake even more. He looks like a leaf about to blow away in a breeze. He balls a hand into a fist around his poor worn out hair.

“I can’t die and it’s a curse that I wouldn’t wish on anyone.”

His breath hitches and the words fight their way fumbling out of his mouth, protesting the small cage of his chest that they’d been buried in all this time. 

The priest understands immediately what he means to say, no stranger to the odd visitor that struggles with such an affliction.

“Rarely is the one that has such a power the one that benefits from it, I am sorry to hear of this.”

At this response Seifer untangles his hands from his hair and once again coils an anxious tail around the pair, running his finger along its length. Frustration begins to etch its way onto his features, furrowing his brow in a way that only makes him look more exhausted. Tears start to form at the corners of his eyes.

Briefly, something in his eye gives insight to a quick internal struggle. Ailzea has seen this look many times before; Should he say more or stop where he is at? He says nothing to urge him in either direction, he only waits.

Seifer flounders in the silence for a bit, grasping for the words to say around the tail he continues to terrorize. It’s a marvel that he hasn’t worried the fins and skin right off of the poor thing.

“Is someone taking advantage of your curse?” Ailzea asks softly and a miserably sound dies in the soldier’s throat, strangled. 

That is all of the confirmation that he needs. He is no stranger to the cruelty that the fleet is capable of, the terror some of the trolls that now walk his halls used to have to deal with.

He remembers the cyborg he has become acquainted with that helps trolls out of such situations, only a phone call away.

“What sort of support are you looking for, my child?”

Once again, uncertainty etches itself into the poor worn out soldier’s features, it truly makes him look even more sad and pathetic.

Hopeless. He looks downright hopeless and the priest has had quite enough of the hopeless cases plaguing his life right now.

“I just wanted someone to listen.” Seifer squawks, all but pleading with the purple blood to not do anything with the information he has been provided.

“Yes, but,” the Restorer speaks slowly, searching within for the correct words that will not set this new charge of his into a paranoia spiral. Something about him says that some part of him feels he deserves this torture. That won’t stand. “I believe that I know someone that may be able to help me get you out of this situation. Do you suppose you can trust me a little longer?”

Seifer swallows, very quickly a speck of hope shines behind his eyes before he manages to kill the thought.

Why would he be so quick to entertain such an idea, anyway? Then again, his fluttering fins betray that defeatist demeanor.

“Come, please, let us speak somewhere more private.”

The soldier takes a deep breath, nods his head, and stands when the priest stands.

[tciddaemina]

AI and fanworks - a dissection

In attempt to address some of the fears and uncertainty going around in the fan communities at the moment I wanted to have a look at AI interacts with art and fandom, and more specifically how it relates to theft in these fields. When AI comes up there has been a lot of knee jerk defensiveness and hurt from artists and writers in the fan community, and honestly, that’s fair enough. This is a field that has advanced rapidly, which has entered the scene with all the force of an explosion. I don’t think anyone was expecting it to hype up this much or so suddenly be splashed everywhere all at once, becoming the topic of debate in nearly every discipline and field, be it law and academia, digital art, and even fanfic writing. 

It’s everywhere, it’s all over the place, and to be honest, it’s just a bit of a mess.  

Currently we’ve had a strong outpouring of reaction, lashing out at everything to do with AI and its involvement in creative works. The thing is though, this whole issue of AI in art - especially its use on and in relation to fanworks - is something that's complicated and layered and isn’t composed so much of one single offense being committed, but rather multiple stacked issues all tangled together, each of which is simultaneously eliciting reactions all that all end up jumbled together. 

What I want to do a bit here is unpick the different layers of how AI is causing offense and why people are reacting the way they are, and in doing so, hopefully give us to the tools to advance the conversation a little and explain more clearly why we don’t want AI used in certain ways.  

There are, in essence, three layers of potential ‘theft’ in this AI cake. These are:

The training data that goes into the AI.

The issue regarding ‘styles’ and the question of theft in regards to that. 

Use of AI for the completion of another person’s story. 

This last one is the one that’s doing the rounds right now in the fanfic community and is causing a lot of strife and upset after a screenshot of a TikTok of someone saying that they were using ChatGPT to finish abandoned and/or incomplete fanfictions.

It’s a concept that has caused a lot of anger, a lot of hurt, and a lot of grief for authors who are facing the concept of this being done to their work and honestly that’s fair enough. As a fic writer myself, I also find the concept highly uncomfortable and have strong feelings about it. Maybe this person was trolling, maybe they were not, but the fact exists that this is increasingly coming a subject of debate. 

So, let's go through this mess step by step, see how exactly ‘AI theft’ is being done, what different levels this ‘theft’ is operating at, and what, if anything, can be done about it. And I’m not claiming to have a magic solution, but just that in understanding a problem, you have a better toolkit to explain to others why it is a problem and how to ask for the specific things that might help improve the situation. 

Training datasets - yeah, there’s some problems here

One thing we need to talk about going into this section is how AI actually functions - AI here being specifically image and word generators.

Text generators such as ChatGPT and Sudowrites are essentially word calculators. When someone feeds in an input, a prompt saying ‘write me this email’ or ‘write me a script for so and so story’ they essentially behave in the same manner as an autocomplete on your phone. Part of a sentence gets written, and based on the hundreds of thousands of pieces of writing they examined in their training data, they write what the next most expected thing in the sentence would be. 

For art generators, it comes down more on pattern recognition. A picture on a screen is just a pattern of pixels, and by feeding them huge amounts of training images you can teach them what the pattern for say ‘an apple’ looks like. When prompted, they can then use that learned pattern to spit out the image of an apple, one that doesn’t look specifically like any single image that went in. In essence it is a new ‘original’ apple, one that never existed specifically just like that before.    

All of these systems require huge amounts of training data to work. The more data they have, the better they can recognise patterns and spit out output that looks pretty or makes sense, or seems to properly match the prompt that was put in.

In both these situations, writing or art, you can put in a prompt and get out an output that was created on demand and is different from even the pieces of work it might have been trained on, something that is ‘original’. This is, I think, where a lot of the back and forth regarding use of generated writing and art as a whole comes from and why there’s a lot of debate about whether it counts as theft or not. 

And honestly, whether generated content counts as ‘art’ or not, whether it counts as original, and whether the person who prompted it ‘owns it’ or the company who created the generator does isn’t a debate I want to get into here. Hello Future Me did a very good breakdown of this issue and the legalities of AI regarding copyright on YouTube, and I would recommend watching that if you want to learn more. Basically, it’s a murky pond with a lot of nuance and it’s not the debate we’re looking at here, so we’re just going to set it aside and focus on the other part of this instead - the training data. 

Because yeah, currently the vast majority of these generative ‘AI’ models have been trained on materials taken without the creators consent. They need huge amount of training data to work, and a great deal of it has been sourced in an unethical way. We’ve seen this with OpenAI scraping AO3 for writing text, to use as training material for their software - and being caught out with it by the whole knot thing. We know that Stable Diffusion was trained using the work of thousands of digital artists works without permission and used their work as training to help educate their image generation software, now resulting in a class action lawsuit by artists against it. 

And that fucking sucks.  

It sucks on multiple levels. If someone creates a piece of art, copyright law and shit requires that someone wanting to make use of it ask permission. And that’s fair. Copyright law does have its issues, but it does provide some protection to artists and their work. Using someone else's work without permission is not okay, especially when you’re using it for your own profit. There’s a couple of different aspects we need to unpick here, so let’s unpick them.

Yes, a generated work might not be a specific copy of any work that was taken and put into it, but honestly that doesn’t even matter - the lack of consent on the part of the people whose work is being used in this situation is unethical. Web scraping has always been a thing, but there’s a difference between people gathering data for research purposes and a corporation gathering the work of independent small artists and writers without their consent for use in generating their own profits. Because yes, these systems are currently free to use but you know that monetisation is an any now kind of thing, right? Eventually these generative softwares will be paywalled and used as a means of earning profit for the companies that created them, and that work will be done off the back of all the artists/writers whose work was put in.  

Already, on the level of being a regular writer or artist, this is pretty shitty (particularly when you consider that generated works are being eyed up by corporations as a way to avoid having to pay proper artists and writers for their work). As a fanworks author, the thought is even shittier. Part of what is lovely about the fan community is the fact that it’s all done for free. Fanworks exist in a specific legal framework that prevents monetisation, yes, and for the most part that’s something that’s celebrated. The joy of creating art or writing a story - of creating and sharing it with a community, just for the sake of doing it and not because of profit, is an integral part of what makes being a creator of fanworks so amazing. So to have something that you’ve created for free and shared for the love of it - specifically with the intent of never having it monetised - fed into a machine that will, in the end, be used to turn corporate profits is souring. People are entirely right to not feel pleased at that concept.  

AI techbros would argue that there isn’t a way to create large generative models like this with big enough datasets unless they collect them the way they do, but is it really?

Dance Diffusion is a music generation program that creates music from purely public domain, volunteered, and licenced material. It uses only works where the musicians have either consented to be part of the dataset, or have made their work available broadly for public use. And yes, the reason that they’ve taken this route is probably because the music industry is cutthroat with copyright and they’d be sued out of existence otherwise, but at the very least it proves that taking an ethical approach to data sourcing is entirely possible.

Already some generative software for images are working to do the same. Adobe Firefly is an image generator that runs entirely on its own stock photos, licenced photos, and images that are public domain . This already seems like a more ethical direction, one which is essentially no different than a company using public domain images and modifying them for commercial purpose without using AI. Yes, it has a more constrained data set and therefore might be less developed, but honestly if you can’t create a quality product without doing it ethically, you just shouldn’t make that product.

This is the element of consent missing from many of the big generative softwares right now. The only reason this isn’t the mode of approach being used in selecting what goes into training data is because techbros are testing the waters of what they can get away with, because yeah, taking this step takes more effort and is more expensive, even if it is demonstrably more ethical, and god forbid anything standing in the way of silicon valley profit margins.

So yes, there is unethical shit going on in regards to how people’s art and writing is being put into training sets without their consent, for the final result of generating corporate profits, and as a fanwork author it’s particularly galling when such a model might be making use of work you specifically created in good faith with a desire for it not to be commercialized. You have a right to be upset about this and to have a desire for your work not to be used.

Work that is used in training AI should have to be volunteered, obtained with a licence and the artist’s consent, or be works of public domain. It has to be an opt-in system, end of story.

If you take away this issue of stolen training works, the ethical dilemma of generated works is already a lot more palatable. Yeah, it might not be the same as making a work from scratch yourself and some might argue it’s not ‘real art’, but at that point it just becomes another tool people can use without this bad-taste-in-the-mouth feeling that you’re using software exploiting stolen works from non-consenting artists and writers. (The undervaluing of artists and writers works is something I acknowledge, but that’s a different debate and we’re not going to get into it here – though it will be touched upon briefly in the next section.)

The thing is though, this issue isn’t one we can readily fix as individuals. This is something that’s going to come down to government regulation and legislation. If you feel strongly about it, that’s the areas you need to put pressure - learn about what regulation is being done, make known your support for regulations that do promote more ethical practice, and if you’re someone who is generating artistic works, when make your consumer vote count and do it using software that more ethically sources its training data.

And yeah, maybe this sort of sucks as a conclusion for this issue, but the cat’s out of the bag now and generated works are likely here to stay. We’re in the wild west of them right now, but things can be done and it doesn’t need to be the complete dystopia it currently feels like it might be becoming.

The ‘theft’ part of ‘art theft’ 

Here we move on from the issues inherent with the generative models themselves - or more specifically their training sets - and to the ways they’re being used. This issue is split into two parts, the first of which is a more prominent issue in visual art and the second of which is an issue more specific to fanfic writing. 

Up until now you can sort of argue that use of a generative model is a victimless crime. The output you get may have been trained using someone else’s work, but it itself isn’t a strict copy of anything that exists. It’s created on demand and it’s unique. And yeah, you might say, maybe it sucks a bit that the training data stuff is a bit unethical but the harm there is already done and using it to generate a piece of art isn’t hurting anyone.

And to a point that’s true. If the ethical sourcing problem for data is solved, then there isn’t necessarily a lot of harm in using that software to generate something – it might not be the same process as creating art yourself, but it’s a tool that people can do doubt find some helpful uses for.

Using AI to copy someone’s style, or to finish one of their pieces of fiction, however, is something that hurts someone. It’s not a bad system causing the problem, but bad actors using that system to cause harm. In this this is distinct from the previous theft issue we’ve discussed. Even in a world where the big AI software’s all have de facto ethical training data, this would still be an issue.

‘Style’ theft – a problem for artists

One of the big things that’s been happening with image generation AIs is people training them to mimic certain styles, so that the user can then create new works in that style. There’s a lot of pretty furious debate back and forth about it in regards to whether using a style is art theft, whether its infringing copyright, with the weeping techbros often hurrying to cry ‘you can’t own a style!’

And to a certain point, yeah, they have a point. If you were to train an AI on impressionist artworks and tell it ‘paint me a tree in the style of Monet’ I don’t think anyone would necessarily have a problem with it. It’s a style, yes, but no one person owns it, and most of the people who developed that style are long dead – more works being created in that style and even sold commercially isn’t going to undercut a specific artist’s market. You could up and decide to learn to paint yourself and start churning out Monet-esque works by hand and it wouldn’t be copyright infringement or art theft or any of the like.

The situation is sort of different when you’re dealing with a living artist today. Already there have been cases of artists with distinct and beloved styles having their portfolios fed into AI without their consent, so that the prompter can then create works in their style.

(Original work by samdoesart on the left, and generated work trained on samdoesart’s style on the right, posted on reddit. A model was specifically created trained on this artist in order to create art that looks like it was made by them.)

And this is harmful in two separate ways. We’ve covered above why its unethical and shitty to feed someone else’s work into a training set without their consent, and for a work to be generated in a specific artist’s style, a large amount of their work needs to be put in in order for the AI to learn its patterns and mimic it. The artist hasn’t consented to their inclusion, and now their hard work and the style they’ve created has been absorbed and made available for corporate use. Remember – most of these programs retain full ownership over all works they produce, regardless of the user that ‘created’ then. All generated works are owned by the corporation.

Unlike general AI generation, where you’re creating some generic piece of art or writing and it doesn’t specifically harm anyone, this is a crime that directly has a victim. A specific artist has had their work used without consent, and often with the specific goal of creating work in that artist’s style to avoid having to commission or pay the artist for otherwise producing a work in their style. By creating this workaround where they don’t have to pay the artist for their work, they’re directly contributing to the harm of the artists financial prospects and the devaluing of their work.

When we talk about generic AI generation as a whole, the type where thousands of different distinct inputs go in and the thing that comes out doesn’t look specifically like any single one of them, you can make a case that it’s not copying any specific person’s work. This isn’t the case here. This is use of AI for the purposes of creating an art is a specific persons style. As Hello Future Me puts it “it is deriving a product from their data and their art without any attribution, payment, or credit.” And I don’t know about you, but that sounds a lot like theft to me. Yes, maybe a specific existing work was not explicitly copied, but you’re still making use of their style without a consent in a way that undermines their work and the market for their work, and that is a pretty shitty thing to do.

This whole section has talked about visual art so far, but you can see how it could also be applied to a written work. Telling an AI ‘write something in the style of Shakespeare’ is harmless, just as the Monet example was harmless, but you can readily see how this could also be applied to say, a poet who has a particular style of writing, with their portfolio of works fed in to create more poems in their style without their consent.

The key difference here, I think, is that works like Monet or Shakespeare are part of the public domain. No one owns them and everyone is free to use them. Generating derivitive works off their creations harms no one, because these creators are not alive and still producing - and selling - their work today. That cannot be said of living artists whose work is being exploited without compensation and whos livelihoods are being threatened by generated works.

Feeding an artist or writer’s work into an AI so that you can use their style, while not strictly ‘copying’ any single work of theirs, it still a harmful thing to do and should not be done. Even if you don’t intend to sell it and are just doing it for your private fun – even if you never even post the results online – you’ve still put their portfolio into the training set, making it a part of the resources a corporation can now use to turn a profit without repaying the artist or writer for their contribution.

The Fic Problem – or, completing someone else’s work

Now we moved onto the specific issue that first prompted me to write up this debate. There’s been noise going around in the fic writing community about people using AI to write fanfic and/or to finish other people’s incomplete works.

In general, using AI to write fanfic is no different than using AI to come up with any other kind of creative writing. It has the same underlying ethical issues inherent in the system – which is, currently, that all work is being generated based on training data that was obtained without consent. Leaving aside whether in general generating creative writing is a good thing to do (what’s the point in writing, after all, if you don’t enjoy the process of actually writing?) let’s talk instead about the issue of people finishing other people’s fics.

The fanfiction community – and the fanart community as well I would wager – has always had something of a problem with entitlement. And look, I sort of get it. When you find an amazing fic that isn’t finished, it can hurt to reach the end and wonder if you’ll ever get to read any more of it. But that’s just the way it is. The fanworks community is one that is built overwhelmingly upon people creating labours of love just for the joy of it and sharing them free of charge. It’s hobby work, it’s hours squeezed in around jobs and families and kids, it’s someone scraping time out of their busy day to create something and share it just for the sake of it. People move onto different projects for all manner of reasons – maybe they don’t enjoy the fandom anymore, maybe that story now has baggage, maybe their tastes have just changed and they want to write different stuff. Maybe they stopped writing fiction altogether. Maybe they died.

Some stories will never be finished, and honestly, no author owes you the end of one. They have every right to write whatever they want and work on what projects they like, even if that means leaving some unfinished.

Coming in to complain about it, or to demand new updates – or, in this case, to finish the work yourself without their consent, is a shitty thing to do. And yeah, some author’s do put their abandoned works up for adoption and are happy for people to finish them, but in most cases author’s don’t want this done. That’s a personal choice and varies author to author. Someone seeing an abandoned fic and choosing, with their own two hands, to write up an ending for it without asking the author is already a bit of a sketchy thing to do, even if it’s just done privately and never sees the light of day, and doing it using AI is even worse.

Because yeah, to do it, you have to feed that person’s fic into the AI. You as a person, are putting a piece of work made with love and shared freely with you as a gift into a corporate dataset, where it will be used to generate corporate profits off the back of that person’s work. And more, if you want it to write properly in their style and mimic them well, then hey, you have to probably put in even more of their work, so that the AI can copy them well, which means even more of their works taken without their consent and put into the AI.

And that fucking sucks. It’s unethical, it’s a shitty thing to do, and if it’s unacceptable for a corporation to be taking someone’s work without their consent for use in AI training, then it’s unacceptable for you as an individual to be handing someone else’s work to them of your own volition.

As a fanfiction author, I cannot imagine anything more disheartening. I have a lot of unfinished works yes, some of which are even completely abandoned, but even when I haven’t touched them in years I don’t stop caring about those fics. I have everything that will happening in them already planned out – all the arcs, the twists, the resolutions and the ends – and someone else finishing it without my consent robs me of that chance to do it myself. You don’t know if an author still cares about a fic, whether they’re trying to work up the motivation to put out a new chapter even years later. You don’t know why they stopped writing it, or what that story might mean to them.

And I think this is what a lot of it comes down to. People will assume that because a fic is abandoned that an author doesn’t care about it anymore, or that because it’s fanfiction they don’t ‘own it’. Nothing could be further from the truth. Author’s do still care, and yes, they do own their own work. A transformative work might be one based on another franchise and one that makes use of another person’s copyright, but everything you put in yourself is still yours. Any new material, new characters, new concepts, new settings – the prose you use, the way you write, your turns of phrase. Those legally belong to the fanfic author even though they’re writing fanfic.

And yeah, some people might argue that putting someone's fanfic through an AI is a transformative act in itself. People write fic of fic, after all, and is creating something with AI based on fic really any different? Yes and no. A transformative work is one that builds on a copyrighted work in a different manner or for a different purpose from the original, adding adds "new expression, meaning, or message". It is this transformative act that makes it fair use, rather than just theft.

Could an AI do this, creating something that is ‘transformative’? Maybe. It’s not for me to say, and AI generators are getting better every day. In the use of AI in continuing a fic, however, I would argue that it’s use is not transformative but instead derivative. A derivative work is based on a work that has already been copyrighted. The new work arises—or derives—from the previous work. It’s things like a sequel or an adaptation, and you could clearly argue that the continuation of a story, a ‘Part 2′, counts under this banner of derivative rather than transformative. 

And okay, relying on copyright law while already in the nebulous space of fanfic feels like a bit of a weird thing, but it still counts here. Anything new that a person put into a fic belongs to them, and if you take it without their consent then yes, that is indeed stealing. Putting it through an AI or not doesn’t change that. 

And if the legal arguments here don’t sway you, then how about this - it’s a dick thing to do. Even if you don’t mean for it to hurt anyone, you are hurting the author. If you enjoy their work at all - and you must, if you’re so attached to it that you're desperate to see more of it - then respect the author. Respect the work they’ve done, the gift they’ve shared with you. Read it, enjoy it, and then move on.  

Fandom is built on a shared foundation of love and respect, a community where people create things and share them with others in good faith just for the love of it. This relationship is a two-way street. Authors and artists share their work with you and put in hours making it, but if the fan community stops respecting that then things might end up changing. An author burned by seeing their work fed into AI might stop writing, or stop sharing their works publicly. Already people are locking down their AO3 accounts so that only registered users can read and are creating workskins to prevent text copy and pasting out of fear that their work will be the one that someone chooses to ‘finish for them’. Dread over non-consenting use of AI is already having a direct impact in making fic more inaccessible. 

Is that the direction that we as a community want to head in? Because what’s currently happening a real shame. I would prefer to share my works with non-users, to have them read by anyone who cares to read them, but I’ve had to change that, just in the hopes that that small extra step might provide a slight sliver of protection that will keep my work from being put in an AI.

And what after that? Currently sites like AO3 allow readers to download copies of the fic so that they can store them themselves. If authors are concerned about their work being taken and used in AI, will they begin petitioning for this feature to be removed, so as to better protect their work from this sort of use? Artists are already coming up with programs such as Glaze to help protect their work from use in training datasets, but what recourse to writers have save to make their work more and more inaccessible and private? No doubt some authors are already contemplating whether its better to just start only sharing their works privately with friends or in discord servers, in the hopes that it might better protect their works from being stolen and used.

Its worth noting as well that any way in which an author restricts fic on AO3 in order to prevent AI - such as using a workskin to prevent copy and pasting - is one that will also impact peoples ability to do things like ficbinding and translations. If access is restricted, then its restricted for everyone, good and bad.

And some of you might say - well what does it matter if your work does end up in an AI? It’s a drop in the ocean, they won’t be copying your exact work so what does it even matter? And all I can say in response to that is that its about the principle of it. If someone is making use of another person’s work, then that person deserves to be fairly credited and compensated. If I create work for free, in rebellion against a world that is racing towards the commercialisation of all and everything, then I don’t want my work being exploited by some fucking corporation to earn profits. That’s not why I made it, that’s not why I shared it, and they can go fuck themselves.

Unethical corporations are one thing, but the other component of this problem is people within the community acting in bad faith. We might not as individuals be able to regulate mass AI data gathering, but we can chose how we behave in community spaces, and what things we chose to find acceptable in our communities.

What I’m trying to say is, if you love fanfiction, if you love fanart, if you love the works people create and want to see more, then please treat their creators with respect. We put a lot of work into creating the art you enjoy, we put blood and sweat and tears into it, and we want to keep making more. We want to share it with you. We can’t do that if you make us scared to do it, out of fear of our works being put into an AI without our consent.

It's about respect, it’s about common decency. We as a community need to decide whether we think it’s acceptable for people to put someone’s work into an AI without their consent – whether it’s acceptable to finish someone else’s work using an AI without their consent. Maybe AO3 will make some sort of ruling in the future about it, or maybe they won’t. Even if they do, it likely won’t make that big of a difference. Bad actors will act badly no matter the rules, all we can do as a community is make it clear how we feel about that and discourage these sorts of behaviours.

AI generative tools exist and like it or not will be here to stay. They have a lot of potential and could become a really useful and interesting tool in both writing and the visual arts, but as it stands there are serious issues with how it is used – both on a system wide level, with the unethical gathering of data, and on a user level, with people using it in bad faith.

AI is what it is, but it doesn’t change the underlying choice here – you as a member of the community have the choice whether to behave like a dick. Don’t be a dick.

[davekat-sucks]

Was re-reading the official "first year of homestuck" recap Hussie mde and when he brought up the strife between John and his dad it was literally described as "domestic adversities". Does this mean Dad Egbert beats his kid? Where's his call out post? Lol. Idk the strifing is so casual i always had interpreted as super exaggerated interaction from the kids pov or just rough housing. Bro definitely bullied Dave but not as horribly as the fandom likes to claim. People act like Bro never cared for Dave when that definitely isn't true considering he and Dave hung out a lot and let Dave have his own room and interests. Plus he saved Daves life more than once. Though leaving weapons and porn puppets around was pretty irresponsible even Dave had expressed annoyance with it. Act 6 writing took a turn and became shitty teen drama stuff and that conversation where Dave berated Dirk made him look like an absolute hypocritical cunt. Dude wants to talk about irresponsible parenting to a guy that he didn't raise in Dirks timeline.

We never even got to hear Dirk's side of the story of his own relationship with his father. Yes Alpha Bro is some famous celebrity, but we don't hear Dirk on how he deals with that kind of fame and the aftermath of his brother's death to defeat the troll queen. For all we know, Dirk may not have the physical abuse, but he probably had to deal with Alpha Dave's ideal of irony that it had damage any close connections Dirk tries to have with him. It would give him a reason why he is a bit controlling of relationships because his shit bro/dad brushed him off. People had thought the strife between parents thing is a joke, but why is it Bro vs Dave taken as a serious thing compared to others? They are even fine with Rose almost killing herself during that heat of moment. Bro saved Dave's life and had assisted him on entering the Medium. I would say that his treatment to Dave is more of hard training to prepare himself on Sburb. It's parallel to how Mom Lalonde was preparing Rose. She has her Skaianet Lab to help explain about ectobiology and paradox clones. Bro went to physically train Dave to be prepared for any dangers that will come. Be it the journey that Dave would have to go through on his planets and the imps & monsters. The only thing he didn't account for was Jack Noir, which he had to confront himself to let his younger brother live just a little longer.

[ase-trollplays]

The First Meeting

"Hi. My name's Corali, an' I'm a alcoholic.

"I ain't sure what ta say or where ta begin after hearin' most a y'all's stories. My problem don't seem so bad after hearin' how y'all fucked up yer lives. I could still get all my shit done every night, but most a y'all were a goddamn mess."

"Corali, this meant to be a judgement free space. Just because you're a functioning alcoholic doesn't mean you're better off than everyone else here. Obviously it's not working as well as you think or else you wouldn't be here."

"Yeh, yeh, I get it."

"Why don't you start from the beginning and tell us what started you drinking?"

"Sure, but it ain't a very entertainin' story.

"I went through some real shit when I was five. Y'all don't need ta know the exact details, but I almost died about three times over the course a a sweep, an' when I made it back ta my hive, I was a stiff breeze from' bein' completely broken.

"The next three sweeps was hell on my mental health. I was barely holdin' on most nights. I was havin' nightmares about it, got a new phobia from it, an' some nights I couldn't even get the nerve ta leave my damn hive. My pa had ta really step up ta take care a me, an' I hated it. I felt fuckin' helpless an' weak an' useless like I might as well have been a grub.

"Ta get over my fear a other trolls an' being thrown back inta hell, I started trainin' with my strife weapon more and workin' out ta bulk up an' get stronger so that shit wouldn't happen again. It helped make me less anxious, but it wasn't enough. I needed somethin' more ta take off the edge. That's when I started drinkin'.

"I was big an' bulky fer my age, but my eyes would give me away as bein' underage cuz they hadn't filled in yet, so I would steal booze or pay people ta get it fer me. I started with the light stuff -- wine coolers, spritzers, hard ciders an' lemonades. Ya know, wriggler shit. It worked like a charm. Anxiety? Don't know her.

"I wasn't constantly drinkin', neither. Just when I felt like I was crumblin' or I needed a l'il extra oomph. It was more like self medicatin' back then. Hangovers were a bitch and a half, but I learned ways ta avoid 'em or at least make 'em less awful.

"As time went on, it wasn't enough t a just have a couple drinks every now an' then. I hit a point where I'd feel sick as a dog if I didn't have at least a couple a drinks a night. It wasn't interferin' with nothin', so I didn't see it as a problem. Eventually, it wasn't just medicatin' fer my anxiety anymore. It was just habit.

"Wake up, drink. Eat breakfast, drink. Work out an' train, drink. Work on my hobbies, drink. Come back from huntin', drink. Y'all get the idea. I started keepin' flasks on me with different shit in 'em fer when I was out an about. Whiskey, rum, vodka, tequila, gin; y'all name it, I had it. I couldn't go a single night without a few dozen sips a this an that. I never binge drank 'cept when I had sudden anxiety attacks an' needed ta block out the bad memories an' feelin's.

"I figured since I ain't fallin' down drunk every night, it ain't a problem. I stayed on top a all my shit, so there wasn't no issue. Shit, bein' a spitfire nabbed me a kismesis that I'm still seein' ta this night after two sweeps."

"So when did it go wrong?"

"... Sweeps ago, I adopted a l'il six sweep old named Darius. I ain't a fan a wrigglers, but he was different. He was a real sweet fuckin' kid, an' quick as a whip. I taught him how ta fight an' hunt an' kill animals, an' fer a l'il while I had him' doin' boxin'. I was so proud a that boy. Shit, I still am. He's a damn fine adult. He's my pride and joy, an'...

"Two weeks ago, he came ta visit. Dar ain't never liked me drinkin' so much, an' it started becomin' a issue between us. He'd always tell me how bad it is fer me an' how he don't like who I am after some drinks, but I never listened ta him. Like I said, I stayed on top a all my shit and did whatever needed ta be done, so my drinkin' clearly ain't a problem.

"I got three beers inta our visit an' was gettin' a fourth when he stopped me. ... I wasn't even drunk, just buzzed, but that was enough fer my temper ta get away from me.

"We got ta arguin', an' he tried ta take my beer from me. We fought over it an' wound up breaking it, an' I... I got so pissed, I slapped him an' knocked him out cold. Pretty sure I broke his cheekbone.

"... Fuck. Fuck! I f-fuckin' hate cryin', 'specially in front a folks!"

"Trust me, it's fine. Everyone in this room has cried as least once at these meetings."

"Hell, it took me at least five before I could get through a meeting without crying."

"I ain't some goddamn softy! Cryin's--"

"Normal. Look, you don't have to get defensive or try to prove anything here. Not to us. This is a safe space to cry, to get angry, to break down. We're the last people who're gonna judge you for it."

"Exactly. Just let everything out. We're not going to make you keep sharing if you've hit your limit."

"N-naw, I'm good. I'm good ... Arright.

"I just keep replayin' what happened over an' over. Watchin' him fall an' hit the ground like a ton a bricks. When he woke up, he was so fuckin' furious. ... I ain't never seen him so mad in my life, an' I think he mighta been... been scared a me. I never laid a finger on him before that night, an' he ain't talked ta me or come ta see me since.

"I musta called an' messaged him five dozen times, an' he ain't ever answered me once. Not even ta tell me ta go fuck myself. I ain't had a single drink since, but I swear it damn near killed me. Between the shakes, the migraines, throwin' up, anxiety attacks, racin' heart, hallucinations... I really thought I was gon' die from not drinkin'.

"In a fit, I destroyed every bottle an' can a booze I had. My kismesis's matesprit's a good friend a mine, an' she's been helpin' me get my shit back together. She's the one who found this meetin' an' made me come in the first place. She's a saint, she is. Even bein' pissed as all hell at me, she's helpin' me.

"Anyhow, I guess that's everythin' I got. I'm sick a hearin' myself bellyachhin'. Someone else talk now."

[happyhappybios]

Hildri Lernae

This page contains mention of death and blood.

Danger scale: Moderate

Key notes: Dead Lusus, Heiress, Cold, Young Sister, Conflicted

🐚Hildri's mood🐚

Name: Hildri Lernae

Age: 8.31 sweeps (18 y.o.)

Height: 5’5 (165 cm)

Blood colour: Fuchsia

Wiggling day: 24 January

Symbol: Hydrus

Gender: Female (She/Her)

Orientation: Lesbian

Occupation: The future Heiress of Alternia

Place of residence: Big castle under a water - near the the cliff - a tip of the castle could be see in the water

Lusus: MotherHydra (Giant size; Alive), MotherHydrus (Small size; Dead)

Hobby: Training her fighting skills

Hemoloyalty: She is against the current hemospectrum

Fetch modus: Button. Wherever she presses the button, she gets a random item

Strife specibus/Weapon: Chain/Chain kind

Troll Tag: antagonisticСombatant [AС]

Typing quirk: After every 4 letters put capital letter

Typing quirk example: 

[AС]: no cOmmeNt…

God Tier: Witch of Breath

Ancestor: The Next Inheritrix

Dancestor: Enidro Shewei

Personality: 

Hildri is a cold-looking troll with a lot of problems behind the scenes. She is distant, serious and blunt, but somewhere deep inside, sympathetic and soft at the same time. After some events, Hildri becomes more careful with her actions, regretting all the stuff she did in the past. She wasn't able to let it go and has a habit to remind herself about it constantly, especially when she's around Crucis, these thoughts appear in her head every time.

Before Hildri was considered as one of cool guys in highschool with sport jackets. She was a laid-back troll with chill vibes, true to her character and easy to befriend.

But as time went by, Hildri changed herself drastically to fit into a mold of 'future heiress'. She doesn't like it, but... what can she do? Does she have a choice on this matter?

Still she couldn't change herself fully as she won't judge anyone beforehand and treat everyone equally in her eye. You can still befriend her, but it wouldn't be so easy as you need to gain her trust first.

It's better to not make her angry as her patience becomes worse throughout the time and she won't hesitate to beat shit out of you or let drones attack you.

Likes:

Hanging out in abandoned places (still likes it)

Training her fighting skills

Strawberry cakes

Weapons

Jewellery

Being alone

Swimming

Sea

Dislikes:

Hemospectrum

Cold weather

Loud noises

Coffee

Being pressured to do things

Books

Cold treatment

Her Imperious Condescension (HIC)

Trivia:

Hildri is aware that she had her own lusus in the past.

Hildri was a part of a gang called ‘AngrySnakes’ made by Seyfer. She was too young to participate in raids, but she fought with drones when they located their hideout in one accident.

Hildri got all of the scars in a fight with other fuschias for the throne.

Hildri lost her eye in the fight with another fuschia who she had a rivalry with.

Hildri still keeps Crucis’s pin somewhere in her pocket.

Hildri was forced to cut her hair back in the spaceship.

Relationships:

Matesprit - Closed. (Doesn’t want any relationship in this quadrant at the moment)

Moirail - Taken - 🍨Sweet and Spice🧂

Crucis. After talking out everything both of them went through, Crucis and Hildri were hesitant to tell what kind of relationship they have and so Hildri suggested becoming moirals. Crucis agreed and couldn’t feel happier.

Kismesis - Closed. Crushing...???🦈

Auspistice - Closed. (Doesn’t have a time for this)

Out of quadrants

Older Sister - Nuriko. Hildri feels sorry for her older sister to take care of someone like her. She wishes she could be a better young sister.

Old acquaintance/Crucis's guardian - Phecda. Hildri is glad, Phecda is not angry at her for breaking up with Crucis. On the second thought, she should...

Old acquaintance/Crucis's guardian/Role model - Seyfer. Hildri still has a lot of respect for Seyfer. She wishes to become a good leader like him.

Old acquaintance - Gienah. Hildri remembers it was fun to hang out with him, still she thinks he was a bad influence on her and Crucis.

Old babysitter - Pavoni. Hildri barely remembers them, but they were nice to her and Crucis.

Acquaintance/??? - Eingal (@.dracoinfernous). Hildri doesn't like her and only knows her as Crucis’s girlfriend. Still she feels something towards her and she has no idea what...

Backstory:

Nuriko and Hildri became sisters early in their childhood. Nuriko was around 3.23 sweeps (7 y.o.) when her lusus adopted young fuchsia.

It happened when MotherHydra was training Nuriko how to fight. They were training in the open ocean, improving her fighting skill. As the training was coming to end, suddenly both of them heard a cry of help and sounds of drones flying around. Confused, Nuriko and MotherHydra rushed to investigate the scene. When they both approached the place - it was a place surrounded by rocks with a cave near it, the only thing they saw was drones flying away, then much later it was followed by another cry for help. MotherHydra figured out it sounded from the cave, so she rushed inside with her daughter. 

Nothing was strange about the tunnels, but as soon as Nuriko’s lusus noticed a bit of blood on the ground, she immediately covered her daughter’s eyes and told her to look away. Following the trace of blood, soon, MotherHydra reached the end of the cave and her heart broke into pieces. She saw a heavily injured lusus, protecting a small grub with her whole body and it touched her huge heart. The other lusus looks similar to MotherHydra, but a bit smaller with less heads.

MotherHydra promised her to protect her grub and in return other lusus told her name - Hydrus and the name of the grub - Hildri. Then Hydrus died with a small smile right in the cave. 

It was heartbroken to witness for MotherHydra. She couldn’t believe such a tragic event happened to the poor grub and later took a grub under her wing, adopting her as her second daughter.

Nuriko and Hildri become sisters.

As Hildri grew up, she become more and more aware about her surroundings and reckless about it at the same time. Hildri doesn't remember much when she was a grub, but thanks to MotherHydra and her story, she knows she had a lusus before and she was killed by drones. It made her upset and question why they were doing it in the first place and who.

That's why she joined a gang called 'AngrySnake' made by Seyfer. Shewas the youngest member of the gang, so most of the time she didn't do anything. She couldn't join raids or fights, but she felt like at home there. Everyone was really nice to her and treat her like a part of the family. Later on, when she grew up a bit, she was able to protect their hideout from drones and she gained a huge respect from members.

One day, when Hildri was walking through the street, she noticed a troll with a sick lusus on the road, cold and hungry. She felt sorry for them, so without thinking, Hildri approached them and offered the hand of help. At first, they hesitated and Hildri saw it, but soon the troll accepted the help and introduced as Crucis to her. Turns out, they were the same age, 6.46 sweeps (14 y.o.), so it was easy to communicate with each other.

Later on, Hildri brought Crucis with her lusus to her hive and introduced her to Nuriko and told her a story about how they met. After Nuriko found out about the Crucis’s and her lusus condition, she immediately gave the poor girl some food and medicine for her lusus. It slightly shocked Hildri of how fast Nuriko was to help Crucis, but happy to know that her older sister cares about others.

Unfortunately, because their hive was underwater, Crucis couldn’t stay, but Nuriko asked her friend, Phecda, to let Crucis to stay for a while. Phecda agreed and took care of the poor girl while her hive was under construction.

Nuriko and Hildri helped Crucis whenever they could and gave some things such as laptop, phone, food and ect, so Crucis could feel comfortable living a new life. Hildri was feeling good about herself and what she did to help Crucis in her situation. She helped someone, not just someone, but a friend.

She thought they were friends.

Suddenly, at the age of 6.92 sweeps (15 y.o.), Crucis confessed her feelings to Hildri. It confused the heck out of Hildri. She didn't know how to reply. Does she feel the same way? Still Hildri accepted the proposal and later, they started to date.

Hildri had a pretty steady and a bit boring life, but not for long...

Hildri got a letter, an urgent letter to come to the place (spaceship) where she could sign up and fight for the throne or disinherit herself and live a peaceful life. Confused, Hildri tried to figure out what that meant and was ready to ask Nuriko about that, but then...

...she bumped into a bookcase in the living room and another letter fell down on the floor. Hildri took it and carefully read it.

Hildri had a full picture now.

The first letter, that fell down, was about her being a candidate for the throne. Nuriko tried to hide it from her. (And she can't really blame her for that, but still.) The second letter was a warning about the deadline to sign up for the tournament.

It was overwhelming, but she needs to do something and fast.

Hildri disappeared the next morning and only left the same letter and the note:

‘Sorry, sis, but I have to go. If they really want me to fight over the stupid throne so bad, then i’ll deliver it in my own way.’

Hildri came early to the place (spaceship), waiting outside for it to open. While she was waiting, a sudden realization hit her.

16 June. 

It was Crucis’s birthday.

She facepalmed herself as she remembered it, feeling so guilty about it. She really wanted to visit her birthday party, but she couldn't because of this bullshit with the throne. Hildri cursed herself, wanting to end it all at once.

Finally the spaceship opened and Hildri could go inside. But then-

...she was stopped by Nuriko. Her older sister tried to convince her to think twice before entering a tournament. Unfortunately, Hildri didn’t listen to her and went to the reception desk.

It took longer than she thought as she was waiting in the line to sign up. She yawned, feeling quite bored from all the waiting, how suddenly-...

...a gruesome picture just appeared out of nowhere. One of the drones she fought before, just killed another fuschia and then started to drag their body to the side.

It scared the shit out of Hildri.

When she heard there was a background check on fuschias who wanted to participate in selection, she felt goosebumps on her skin. Crucis was a lime and she was a fuschia.

She was in danger.

Hildri looked at her phone screen with her and Crucis together. She needs to do something quick.

But what could she do?

With a heavy heart, she deleted all the mention of Crucis in her phone and then sent her a break up message:

‘Hey, Crucis. I’m sorry I wouldn't be able to come to your party. 

The thing is that I'm tired of you. Your behavior, your naivety, your clumsiness - I'm tired of all of it. Don’t look for me or you’ll get in trouble. Peace.’

She felt awful.

After that she doesn't remember much of what happened, but she knows that her sister was there with her and comforted her in the worst time of her life.

Hildri was accepted to fight for the throne.

So Nuriko did something with the documents and was able to travel with Hildri. It made her a bit happy. Both sisters packed their things in a few days and later on they left Alternia in the spaceship without telling anyone.

Hildri's life in the spaceship was hell. She was constantly attacked by other fuschias outside and inside of the area, barely had any friends, forced to cut her hair and just tired from all this commotion. She barely saw Nuriko because of them being in different locations.

But she couldn't give up. Hildri got all her scars from in a fights with other fuschias and in the last round she lost her eye.

And so she won the tournament.

When the tournament ended, Hildri and Nuriko reunited and returned back to Alternia where they decided to contact their old friends and new one.

Hildri and Crucis had The Talk and reconnected.

So, now, Hildri is peacefully preparing for another fight...

[razzle-zazzle]

557 Words; Gamzee Lalonde AU

@ceabu

“Again.”

Gamzee pushed himself off the mat and pouted at Ariane, whose expression remained as even and mildly unimpressed as it always was.

Picking up his clubs, Gamzee grumbled complaints as he faced his opponent again. Ariane remained unperturbed, jade eyes regarding the seven year old impassively.

Ardaxx smiled at Gamzee, “You’re getting better, kid! A little more practice and you might even be able to match some of my other students.”

Gamzee groaned. “But practice is boring!”

Ardaxx chuckled. Ariane clicked her tongue warningly.

Gamzee growled, but moved forwards to attack. Ardaxx blocked his first hit, but Gamzee ducked out of the way of the counter.

Swing, dodge, duck, block, swing again and score a hit—

Gamzee hit the mat again, both of his clubs flying from his hands. Ardaxx chittered reassuringly as Gamzee once again picked himself up off the mat. “Good work, but you left yourself open with that last attack.”

Gamzee grumbled. Strife training was boring and painful and he wanted to be done. He looked over at Ariane pleadingly.

Ariane regarded Gamzee impassively. “Again.” She stated, posture ever stiff and perfect, arms folded behind her back.

Gamzee groaned emphatically, and picked up his clubs.

<+><+><+><+><+>

Silika frowned down at the mug in her hand, thoughts oddly sour considering what a beautiful morning it was.

She’d been working with wrigglers for as long as she’d been able, teaching them and caring for them and all of those things that made her fins flutter in satisfaction. She and Diantha both.

But for the past four years…

Well, she had taken up other hobbies in those four years. Knitting, reading, baking—there was plenty still to do, even in the small enclosed world of the Community.

But.

There had been no new eggs for four years after Batch H-116, and then no new eggs after Gamzee.

Thirteen years with no new eggs. Sure, there were still the few human children whose parents lived on site, but they weren’t in big enough groups to justify daycare service. At least, not to the extent it used to be.

Even the youngest group above Gamzee had outgrown daycare service years ago—they were all on the cusp of adulthood by now.

The lack of new eggs was a fact that the Community was well aware of; it hung over everything like a sodden cloud. The Community could not continue to grow without new eggs being delivered—and oh, if only the mysterious benefactor had given them a matriorb—it could only shrink from this point, as the warmer-blooded members grew older and succumbed to death. And eventually, the colder-blooded trolls would follow.

The Community had never seemed so small before. Never seemed so constricting until new members were no longer forthcoming, new faces no longer a possibility. An impatience had descended upon them all to integrate with human society as fast as possible, but the humans in charge of the project remained firm that the populace at large was not yet ready for the introduction of trolls.

The oppressive feeling that encircled the Community—that fear that they would never get to really experience the world outside Site B—was only exacerbated by the lack of new faces.

It felt like an end was approaching.

Silika took a sip from her mug. No use dwelling on it now. There were things to be done today.

[ahumansvoid]

What Almost Was

So this is kind of the original way Din Djarin Accidentally Saves the Galaxy was going before I decided I really didn’t want to deal with that. So I cut it and rewrote it. 

But I kept the original version and I’m bored so I’m posting it. It’s obviously unfinished, but it’s just what I had going before I decided I did not want to do it. 

Enjoy!

Characters: Obi-wan Kenobi, Jango Fett, Din Djarin, Cara Dune

Words: 3000~

Warnings:  Description of Death/Body disposal (Kind of)

This starts about right after the end of DDAStG, so Jango and Obi-wan have their heads together in a Kov’nyn or Keldabe Kiss. And is in Jango’s POV at first.

They stay like that for a while before Obi-wan pulls back, “Master Yoda.” Jango looks over to see the old Troll walking toward them.

“Change of plan, there has been. With me, you will come. To Be’ilad, others will go. Meet up with the others, we now will.” Yoda states. Obi-wan nods and follows the Troll. Jango walks over to Boba, who was questioning Cara about some things. Jango notes Dooku’s body is missing, but considering the soldiers around and his non-functional ship, Jango presumes one of the Clones took him. “Follow, you will.” Yoda states, addressing Amidala, Skywalker, Jango, Mando, Cara and Boba.

They all silently follow Yoda and Obi-wan onto a transport.

Yoda explains while they are heading back to the others, “To Coruscant, Obi-wan and I will go. Take care of things, we will. Deal with the Clones, Shaak and Plo will. Return to Naboo, Anakin and Senator Amidala will. To Be’ilad, Mando, Cara, Jango and Mace will go.”

No one argues with the old Troll. 

Jango doesn’t like being seperated from Obi-wan- something he will attribute to the Force bond because he can- but if Obi-wan’s agreed to this then he won’t argue.

“Do I still have to take your stupid medical exam?” Cara asks.

“No. Under what you are, I do. Not ill, you are. Displaced.”

“Although really everyone should get checked out by medical. We were all just in a fight.” Obi-wan tacks on.

“I’ll take Anakin to medical before we head back to Naboo.”

Skywalker shrugs, “We can go to medical on Naboo.” Jango thought that was odd. While he’s never lost a limb, he can’t imagine it’s a benign pain like it apparently it to Skywalker.

Obi-wan seems amused, “You’ll go to medical here. You won’t be able to tamp down the pain with the Force for the entire journey back to Naboo.”

Skywalker huffs but doesn’t argue.

The rest of the trip is silent. Upon landing at the command center, they all disembark and Obi-wan and Yoda immediately separate from the group and head off on their own. Senator Amidala helps Skywalker over to what looks like a medical tent, leaving Jango, Mando, Cara and the kids standing around not entirely sure what they should do.

Until a dark-skinned Jedi approaches them. The one Jango had told he and Obi-wan were married.

Mace Windu, his mind supplies.

Well, the Bond supplies. At least he’ll never have a problem identifying Jedi.

“Do any of you have any pressing issues or can we head to Be’ilad now?” Windu asks, cutting right to the point.

“We’re good.” Cara answers for all of them, “What ship are we taking?”

Which was a good question. “We would all fit on the Slave I,” Jango states, he doesn’t really want to leave him ship behind. 

Windu raises an eyebrow but says, “Very well. Take us to your ship, Fett.”

Jango really hopes Windu only knows his name from Obi-wan and not his previous activities, because that’d make this trip awkward. Still, Jango lead the group away from the battle and to where he had parked the Firespray.

_-Obi-wan-_

“So, why are we going to Coruscant rather than Be’ilad?” Obi-wan hadn’t wanted to ask in front of everyone, instead going along with what Master Yoda said, but he was curious.And they were in a sealed cockpit so it wasn’t as if anyone could hear them.

“See who trained the Child, I did.” Yoda states, “Chancellor Palpatine, it was. A sith, he is.”

“That,” Obi-wan hesitates, “That is a weighty accusation Master Yoda.”

“An accusation it is not! A fact, it is. The future, those three are from. Know the artifact they speak of, I do. Send those where needed it does. Needed they were here. Save the Galaxy they have.”

“What do you mean save the galaxy? Stopping the war was important but,” The war wouldn’t have destroyed the Galaxy.

“Showed me, the Child did. Destroy the Jedi, Palpatine did. Descend into suffering, the Galaxy did.”

“And what are we going to do once we reach Coruscant? A Child’s memory from the future is not viable evidence.” If the Child’s memory was correct, they have no proof Palpatine is a Sith Lord. And Obi-wan didn’t have much faith in the Child’s memory. Memory was a fickle thing, subject to change each time you remembered an event. 

“Reveal to us, he will. Hide a body, you know how to.” Yoda states solemnly.

And.

Obi-wan didn’t like the implications of that.

Yes, he knew how to hide a body, but he didn’t like the implication that they’re going to kill the Chancellor.

That Yoda has already decided this.

It’s not good.

“I don’t like what you are implying Master. What if he is not a Sith Lord?” Because it seemed Yoda was already certain he was.

“Then excuse your ramblings, I will, as a damaged man, dealing with much loss.”

What.

“Ramblings?”

“To the Chancellor, you will go. Inform him of Skywalker’s return to Naboo, you will. About Dooku’s capture, tell him you will. Ramble you will, about the strife Dooku has caused for the Jedi. If Sith he is, try to turn you he will. Lost his apprentice he has.”

“So the plan is, is that I share my more unfavourable opinions with the Chancellor of the Republic, so he might take me on as his apprentice.” Obi-wan sighs, he didn’t like this plan.

“Take you as his apprentice, he will. Stupid he would be, to pass that opportunity.”

Obi-wan raised an eyebrow, “I do recall having to browbeat Qui Gon into taking me as his Padawan.”

Master Yoda made a sad sound, “Foolish, I was. Responsible for that, I was. A connection, you as Qui Gon had. Nurture it, I thought was right. Wrong I was. More broken than I thought, Qui Gon was. Allowed you a different Master, I should have.”

Obi-wan always knew Yoda had had some hand in Qui Gon being his master. But the implication that Yoda had arranged it so Qui Gon was the only one able to be his master… well. Obi-wan had never considered that. Still, nothing to be done now, “It is in the past Master. You cannot undo what you have already done. Live in the moment, and look to the future. Not the past.”

“Hmph, turning my words back at me? Insolent youngling.” Obi-wan smiles at the grumble. It had been a long time since Yoda had called him a youngling.

“I will try to summon as much ire as I can, but I don’t know how convincing I will be.”

“Have faith in you, I do.”

Well. At least one of them does.

Obi-wan certainly didn’t.

_-Be’ilad-_

The place definitely wasn’t abandoned. There were a lot of sentients milling about. Jedi Monks. Non-violent, they don’t fight. Not trained to, true pacifists. Windu bows and says something to one of them, then gestures for them to follow. They all enter the first room of the temple and stop.

“Guide us to where you went,” Windu states, gesturing for Mando or Cara to lead.

Mando looks to Cara, who sighs and pushes through one of the doors, she keeps walking without stopping until they were pretty far into the temple. 

She stops at a wall, looking back in confusion. “There should be a door there.” She points to the wall that looks like just a wall. The monk who had come with them seemed a bit surprised, and waved their hand.

Doing something with the Force evidently as the wall recedes to reveal a door the Cara pushes open and leads them all into the room. It was a circular room that was angled slightly. It was lower in the center than the rest of the room, and in the center was a giant white crystal.

“The kid touched this and we got sent flying back.” Cara states, gesturing to the crystal.

The Monk hums, “How interesting. This is a Force Artifact, it has been dormant for very long,” To prove their point the Monk touches the Artifact, both Mando and Cara visibly tense up but nothing happens, “But our history dictates that when active, this Artifact will send you to where you need to be. The Force needed you two where you ended up.”

“Uh,” Cara sighs deeply, “Can it send us back in time? Or forward?” She looked like it pained herself to ask that. 

Did she think they were time travelers? Weird.

“Theoretically, yes. The Force does as the Force wills, it is not bound by our laws.” The Monk explains.

“Oh. Great.”

“What has made you ask such a thing?”

Cara seemed to of had a mental debate before responding, “Because when me and Mando came in here, there wasn’t anyone here. It had been abandoned for at least a decade, probably two or three. It was in disrepair, there was no life. But there were bodies. Everywhere. Skeletons.”

The Monk hums in interest, “A future you came from, but not the one you will see now. Changed the past, the Force has chosen to. Through you, it has. How peculiar.”

Jango was going to get a headache if people started talking weirdly constantly. Seriously, why can’t any of this be straightforward?

“You don’t seem disturbed that I just told you you all die.”

The Monk shrugs, “You may come from a far off future, or one in ten years, but that matters not. For we do not care about death. To die, is to join the Force. We do not fear it. We do not care for it. It will happen. And we will honor our fate.”

Well that’s, an interesting view. 

And if Kenobi shares it, definitely explains his stupid decisions and careless remarks about death in the arena.

“So, can we not go back?” Mando asks.

“The future you came from no longer exists. It was destroyed the moment you came here.” The Monk states.

Well. Jango sure hopes neither of them left anything behind since they certainly weren’t getting it back. Or anyone behind.

“Thank you, Monk Gyta.” Windu states and the Monk in turn bows and leaves the room. “Satisfied?”

“We can’t go back.”

“The Jedi will help you all get back on your feet.” Windu states.

Which.

Jango doesn’t think that’s the problem.

They probably leave family or friends behind.

But Jango didn’t really know what to say.

_-Obi-wan-_

Well.

Obi-wan owed Yoda 20 credits.

Because, holyshit the Chancellor was a Sith Lord.

And wanted Obi-wan as his apprentice.

Great. Just great.

Obi-wan leaves the Rotunda and heads to the Temple to meet up with Master Yoda, activating a camera looper he had hidden within Palpatine’s office as he does. It would make the camera see him doing paperwork and nothing more on repeat for six hours. Master Yoda and Obi-wan would convene on the correct course of action before heading back to the Rotunda to meet with the Chancellor to officially go over what happened on Geonosis and Dooku’s capture. 

Unofficially, they were going to kill the Chancellor of the Republic.

And Obi-wan was going to dispose of his body.

Great.

Obi-wan was never telling Anakin about this.

Or anyone for that matter.

Maybe Jango. 

They were married apparently.

“Lost in thought, you are?” Yoda asks, Obi-wan had come to the old Troll’s rooms mindlessly.

“I suppose so. I’m apparently married to Jango Fett but cannot for the life of me recall a ceremony.” Obi-wan remarks, entering Yoda’s room and letting the Grandmaster shut the door behind him.

“Hmph. A celebration we will throw you. Legally married you two already are.”

…

Well. 

Okay, then.

“Nice to know. Such a shame I wasn’t present for it.” Obi-wan was only slightly annoyed with that. And only slightly because he knows none of the other Jedi knew of his ‘marriage’ to Jango until a few hours ago, so one of them must have filed his marriage license. Either knowing he wasn’t actually married or worried that the government had lost his and Jango’s marriage license and filed one for them.

“Your nuptials, enough of. A Sith lord, the Chancellor is?” 

Obi-wan sighs, “Yes. He asked me to be his apprentice.”

“Say, what did you?”

“Yes? I didn’t know what else to say. And didn’t know what would happen if I said no.” Obi-wan imagined death. Or torture. Or torture then death. Or something worse than death Obi-wan didn’t really want to think about.

Yoda nodded, “See him later, we will. Kill him, you will.”

“Excuse me?” Obi-wan agreed to dispose of the body, he did not agree to killing the Chancellor. That raised him from accessory after the fact and destroying evidence to murder 1 plus everything else.

“Crush his heart you will. In control you are.”

“...What?” Obi-wan, for the first time since he was a kid, had no clue what Yoda was saying.

“Slipped into the dark you have. Touch it you do.  Darkness you use, but let it control you, you do not. In control you always are. Never fall you will.”

“I’m honoured by the faith you have in me master,” ’and slightly disturbed how often you think I use the Dark side’ Obi-wan thought privately, “but I don’t know what you want me to do. Crush his heart? I’ve never heard of such a technique.”

“Crushed blasters you have. Crushed droids you have. Crushing fruit, you learnt by. Crushing a heart is no different.”

“Well for one, I can see the droids I’m crushing, or the fruit, but I cannot see someone’s heart.”

“Mmm, practice, we will. Dragon heart fruit, you will crush. Placed where you cannot see, it will be.” Yoda states, using the force to levitate a few dragon heart fruits out of his fruit bowl and places it behind the chair Yoda was in. “Focus you will on crushing one of the dragon fruits, but show it you cannot. Let him know what you are doing, you cannot!”

Obi-wan nods, great. Just great. This was definitely something he wanted to do.

Not. Taking a deep breath Obi-wan tries to sense the dragon fruit as best he can but his concentration is ruined by Yoda hitting him in the leg. “What?”

“Obvious it is, concentrating you are.”

Obi-wan sighs and tries again, trying to make it less obvious he was concentrating.

He got hit in the leg again.

This was going to be a long day.

_-Jango-_

“We traveled back in time.” Cara states. They were on their way to Coruscant, have been for a while. So for Cara to be saying this now…

“Did it just hit you that you time traveled?” Jango asks, it had been a while since the Monk told them that.

“Honestly I‘ve kind of been hoping this was just a bad dream. But I don’t think so. And how the fuck is time travel just acceptable to you? How are you not freaking out?”

“All is possible through the Force,” Windu states serenely. 

Which Jango translates from Jedi bullshit to normal basic, “Just don’t think too hard and don’t care about anything and it’s fine.” For Cara and Mando’s sake.

Definitely not to subtly call the Jedi out.

Never.

Wait since when is Jan go subtle?

…

He blames Kenobi for this.

Even if it’s not possible. Obi-wan is to blame. Somehow.

“I’m sure that makes a lot of things easier.”

“Mmhmm. So, any plans for your future now that you’ve processed the fact that you time travelled?” Jango asks.

“Bounty hunting probably?”

“You don’t have to decide right now. “ Windu cuts in, “We will brief you on the current political situation along with relevant details of the past and anything you’re curious about in the Jedi Temple. You are welcome to stay there as long as you need to until you get back on your feet.”

“Your offer is very generous.” Mando states.

“You require assistance. It would be wrong of me to not offer.”

“So, what, you just go around offering assistance to anyone who needs it?” Cara asks.

“As Jedi, we try. We do not always succeed, but we will not turn down a request for help. If we see someone who needs help, we will try to help them, but it is not always possible. Sometimes, we help the wrong people and do a great disservice to others. “ Windu states.

“Well, that sounds like something that has nothing to do with either of us.”

“Yes. Now, do you wish for that youngling to be entered into the Creche and trained or would you prefer to keep him?” Windu asks, no doubt gesturing to the Terror Child Jango had reluctantly let back into the cockpit on the condition Mando keeps a tight hold of it. But Windu wasn’t in Jango’s eyeline so he wasn’t entirely sure what the Jedi was doing.

“I… don’t know.”

“That is fine. You will have time to make that decision.”

Silence descended onto the cockpit.

Jango kind of wish he had a radio in here because it was not a comfortable silence.

_-Obi-wan-_

“Need all this, you do?” Yoda asks, stepping into the room Obi-wan had commandeered.

They had successfully killed the Chancellor of the Republic without getting caught, the Sentinels were out defusing any contingencies or plans Palpatine had made, and Obi-wan had the body to start disposing of it.

So Obi-wan had commandeered a room in the temple, had several large jars, a bone grinder, and currently was removing most of the blood from Palpatine’s body. Obi-wan had Palpatine upright, syringe needles in several major blood vessels in the legs to tube the blood into a couple of the large jars.

“You asked me to get rid of the body. Jars are for the organs, bone grinder to grind the bones, and once that’s all done I’ll send it to a butcher I’m friends with who’ll sell it to whoever wants human meat.”

“When told us, Qui Gon did, of your newfound skill. Expected this, I did not.”

“Well what did you expect?” Obi-wan asks, he had nothing to do until the blood drains.

[theorynexus]

Unrelated to the Epilogues

Apologies for not getting back to liveblogging, yet; however, that’s going to begin again with my next post.   This one is simply to express some thoughts that have been kicking around in my head for a few days, which I did not get the chance to express because I was sleep deprived and then briefly sick. Namely:   All weapons (or Strife Specibi, I should say) in Homestuck seem to be symbolically representative of the character who owns them to some extent.  A few easy examples would be: * the Dualing Pistol (White Magnum/White Wand), which is elegant and precise, only needing to be fired once to provoke massive, impactful change, and doubly representative of Alt!Calliope’s subtle orchestration of events behind the scenes; * The Dudely [Fire]Arm[ament]s (Caliborn/Lord English’s canes/rifles), which the aforementioned doubled set is contrasted to: whilst they are equally intended to convey mastery of events (and particularly the people taking part in them), these are more brutish, and make their impact through repeated blows (a pool cue arranges things through a loud, meaningful break, and then many serious blows to follow--- and while these blows might in theory require precision in order to make the balls fall where they must, in practice, Caliborn’s talent is in ensuring that every hit eventually brings things to a favorable conclusion, rather than in the shortest route possible).   Brute force methods are used to bring about the desired conclusion--- an inevitable death, generally  ---and the overkill that Caliborn (the Lord of Death, in some ways) utilizes whenever his rifle’s sights fall upon a target (for it’s never a single bullet that hits) is representative of his general methodology and spirit. *  Dave’s broken/mended sword, split over time, is obviously representative of his own Aspect, how it gradually affects him (time heals all wounds, as the saying goes, despite the fact that he seems to become quite incensed with it at some points, and struggles with it to the point of refusing to embrace it for a very long time), and especially how his personal history ties into his personal arc (Dave is more affected by his time with his Guardian than perhaps any other kid, despite the fact that Jade is fused with the replacement surrogate that might arguably be said to have usurped the position from her grandpa, and this is also a reflection on the Aspect of Time in his life, I should think).     How Bro (Dirk) Broke his Heart, and how Dave struggled to mend it over the course of the series has been much better discussed elsewhere than I could attempt to express in the brief space I’m allotting to this discussion, here, though, and thus I shall cut this off right here, just as both brothers have a habit off symbolically cutting things off, themselves. ~~~ The train of thought that I am wanting to express herein started with a thought that caught me by surprise:   I continue to have no idea what, precisely John’s Strife Specibus is supposed to represent, you see, so when I remembered that there was a method of inheritance called Gavelkind, it struck me that it could be related to this, as a pun.  Unfortunately, this seems like a dead end, unless it is a very forward thinking joke about every member of his party taking up the main character mantle after he dies in the “more canon [more relevant in Dirk’s eyes]” Meat Epilogue (or, alternatively, Davesprite and Rose’s inherited self from the timeline having to clean up John’s mess after the idiot got himself obliterated in the deal he made with Typheus after Terezi tricked him).     It could also be related to him forging the group through his Heir of Breath inspiration toward a path mechanic, but what are the chances of it being that simple an answer?   Unfortunately, said inheritance business seemed more promising than it was, because I was initially confusing it with the Elective method of kingmaking that is to be found in German historical culture. That truly fits with who John is, and resonates with the “I’m not your leader, I’m your friend” humblepie that was served up to us (and everyone else in his party). ... This line of thinking was useful, however, because it led me to thinking about Karkat’s own weapon.  Obviously, the “Heh, heh, Communism” line of thinking briefly occurred to me, but more relevantly, I thought of the reason why the sickle is used as a symbol of Communism.  It is a classic symbol of the lower class--- farmers, in particular  ---which hints at the very beginning to Karkat’s rather humble origins. While many people might like to think of his mutant blood as “potentially higher than fuschia,” or some such nonsense, more realistically, one has to realize that Karkat was placed in the lowest of low positions: not only was he the only member of his kind, but he would have been without a Lusus and immediately abandoned to death, if the worshipers of his Ancestor had not ensured that he had the dimmest possibility of a relatively normal life. At the same time, he wanted to defy this lowborn status and become a mighty general in )-(er Imperious Condescension’s army.   While this initial spark of revolution was not much, it is representative of all that was to come-- you see, the sickle is to some extent also a symbol of revolt, and while peasant revolts would generally be brutally put down throughout history (just as the waves of opposition to the Condesce were in Alternian lore), this would not in fact be the case with Karkat, or the session that he (and Aradia) would lead. You see, Karkat’s own ideals and the weapon that represents them are but the tip of the iceberg.  The Beta Trolls’ entire session was littered with themes of rebellion against the established social order, and the consequent turning of it upon its head.   First and most obviously, it would be two Lowborn trolls that would come to lead the two “teams” which the session had to offer. Both of these figures acquired this position by usurping it from Bluebloods, who might traditionally have taken up this role in a circumstance where the empress-to-be didn’t show interest in leadership and the Purple Blood in the group appeared to be an incompetent, serially inebriated sack of garbage. This theme particularly shown through in [concupiscent] romance, where we saw pairings that, without exception (other than possibly the crush that Ms. Leijon bore for Karkat, which saw no fruition and arguably did not count for anything, just as Eridan’s flushed feelings for Feferi didn’t “matter” in the end, and Kanaya x Vriska, while being a borderline issue for this topic, doesn’t count either, also due to it just being a crush), all saw subversion of social hierarchy:

Equius x Aradia, Gamzee x Tavros, Feferi x Sollux {I just noticed that these relationships all have the same social distance from one another for some reason.}, Terezi x Karkat. Vriska x Tavros is one-sided, and thus debatable, but also fits this pattern, intriguingly enough. Equius was hit with this subversive force in their social lives particularly hard, possibly because he was the Heir of Void, and thus was more inundated with forces of subtext than the rest of the group [particularly since he was a failure in that role].   Not only could he not resist the drive to submit to those it was “perverse” for one of his “station” to bend the knee to, when the opportunity to truly embrace the anti-normative forces that he had been dipping into (despite his Classist upbringing) came, he was so confused and uncertain that he could not properly understand what he was being pushed to do, and the necessity of it--- and thus froze, allowing himself to be swept away by the Rage Gamzee filled him with. These themes play out in Operation Regisurp, both in name and its practical implementation.  Furthermore, I have just, in the course of writing this post, come to the conclusion that this is why Gamzee had to be the final obstacle to the true end of the Beta Trolls’ session.  He was a crystallized manifestation of the old regime, and its established order:  Gamzee acted as a shadow of the Condesce’s will, the Hemospectrum’s implications, and the brutal reality that was Alternia.    It was thus quite fitting that Karkat was the one to stop his rampage, for he was the Knight of Blood who cajoled everyone to work together as a single team, rejecting the classical restrictions that would have spelled DOOM for their party in favor of bonds beyond the literal nature of the blood that flowed through all of their veins.   Furthermore, I think this is why that confrontation ended in the Shush Pap scene.   Not only was it true that Karkat had literally zero percent chance of actually killing Gamzee in the fight (and a very small chance, indeed, to defeat him through violence), but this would to some extent additionally be an endorsement of the old Alternian way of life.  Rather than through violence, Karkat used his bond with Gamzee to find a solution, and by this means, turned him away from his role as brutal Subjugglator--- though unfortunately this also meant that Gamzee would take a turn for the worse, becoming even more firmly cemented in his role as a servant to the Mirthful Messiah’s. ... Heading back to the meaning of Karkat’s weapon for a moment, I think that the sickle has another implication to explore: it is an implement of the harvest.  Karkat initially wanted to be a sort of grim reaper, slaughtering Alternia’s foes and claiming glory for himself and for his empress. While he was correct in thinking that he just needed an opportunity to prove himself (and thus, he was embracing the symbolic “one must wait until the fruits of the harvest are ripe” implications of the sickle in his own life), the climax of this narrative arc would come when Karkat found himself at the head of Meenah’s united army of all the trolls in the afterlife and bravely charged to meet a foe he knew could destroy the soul with very breath--- and the very real equivalent of the Grim Reaper, himself ---wielding the closest thing he had to a weapon painted with the rainbow (Fuschia an Lime Green bound together betwixt bands of black and white, thus singled out amidst all the colors of the light spectrum). This was his ultimate rejection of the Alternia that was, as he challenged the hidden hand that had twisted it into the place of horror it had been; and upon the fulfillment of that destiny, Karkat would vanish.

Yet, by some miracle, this was not the end: in a place separated beyond barriers of space and time, he would awaken, and but a short time later, he would be granted the Ultimate Reward that had once been wrenched from his grasp. ....................................................................................................................... One last matter of note:  It should be pretty obvious, considering the fact that universes are shaped to reflect the wills and designs of the Players involved, but I am pretty sure humans’ singularly colored blood is an explicit rejection of the hemospectrum, and the particular color that was “chosen” may very well be reflective of the important role Karkat in particular played in the session. What may not be so obvious is how fitting, symbolically, it is that it is a human that stands triumphant over the corpse of )-(er Imperious Condescension.  Curse baggage aside (which still has been irksomely unexplored, to my knowledge), the fact that it is essentially the Beta Trolls’ rejection of her world order that does the empress in feels very right and, upon reflection, is quite beautiful.   Obviously, there’s also a nice splash of revenge playing into that too, as visibly denoted by the weapon used and the handle wrapping, in particular.  I am curious as to the implications of Roxy’s typing color being the same as the blood of said fishy tyrant, though. That, I can’t quite figure out.

[fantroll-purgatory]

Xanatl Cambre, or whatever!

I read homestuck the first time when I was 13 and now that I’m rereading it I realized I processed almost 0 things in it the first time. So this is BASICALLY my first homestuck oc as someone who understands what the hell is happening in homestuck. I’m only about 3000 pages in, so I might have some misunderstandings still, sorry! Please go crazy telling me what I could fix or change, and I also have 0 clue for his appearance soooo. 

Okay! I’ll do my best to tighten this character up a bit!

Name: Xanatl Cambre 

Pronounced “Shan-uh-teal Cam-bray” (for the Aztec god Xolotl, and the coloration of darker axolotl’s- axanthic + the Spanish words for walk and fire/light)

Camnar is a seven-sweep-old violet-blooded troll who failed to fully complete his metamorphosis, for some reason or another- it happens! He possesses an extra set of fully functioning arms, a small flippy-flappy finny-tail-nub, and big bright purple shiny eyes. Everything else seems like it’s grown in okay, probably. Though he was fully capable of surviving his grub trials, his defects are admittedly uncomfortable enough to maybe have earned culling when he was only a few sweeps old, if not for [name here], a jade-blood with a penchant for healthy freaks and everything there is to learn about them (ESPECIALLY messed-up metamorphisizers) assisting in chopping off the extra bits every once in a while when drones come around. And definitely NOT keeping them in a walk in freezer to study. He’s not crippled or weakened by any of them, anyways, they’re just weird to look at- his eyesight might not be great, but he wouldn’t admit it. 

Fire, salamanders in general, the Aztec god Xolotl, and all around childish imbecility are all pretty big parts of and inspiration for his character. 

Hmmm. I feel like this passage comes off as fairly ableist, so watch your language here (i.e. “freaks,” “crippled,” “childish imbecility,” etc.). There is nothing wrong with a jadeblood being interested in mutants who remain healthy or in Xanatl not being weakened by losing body parts or even in him being childishly careless but language matters and I don’t feel comfortable letting it slide.

Interests: Penchant for outdoor land activities, especially camping. Loves using the time on those camp-outs to start fires, make star-maps, and attempt to commune with the dead through rituals found on old forums (with little success).

I like this bit as an emphasis on the fire theme, and I actually really like that you made a seadweller with that fire theme!

 A very keen interest in the occult and black magyks generally, but too lazy to go all the way with it, and too scared to perform it in his underwater home. A notable interest in weather-tracking, especially large storms and how they grow, change, and die. Mild inclinations to cannibalize other trolls- luckily, most don’t fit in his mouth.

WGAT

Finds great joy in training his lusus to do tricks and assist in hunting for dinner. A great cook! Especially loves spicy food (mustard flowers grow around his hive, and he uses their seeds/”eye of newt” for a kick a lot of the time). General propensity to put whatever he can fit into his mouth in his mouth that caused a lot of sickness as a young troll. One of his favorite non-food things to eat that isn’t necessarily dangerous are agave americana plants, which he grows and keeps all over the top floor of hive (he probably could not keep any other plants alive). Spends a lot of time with [insert jadeblood’s name], but mostly out of the obligation of their friendship, because he’s kind of tired of her cutting his fingers off to study their regrowth. He’s also mildly obsessed with siren stories and myths, but he doesn’t really know why. 

He lives in a two-story hive. The lower story sits below the water in a somewhat shallow muddy canal, and the top half hugs the shoreline. He spends most of his time in the bottom half, though.

Ooooh I really like that setup!

Personality: He’s kind of a coward. Very averse to change, but not fully content in his quiet life. He doesn’t particularly like company and when other trolls are around he feels urges to hurt them until they go away/are digested. Those urges don’t make him uncomfortable or guilty. It’s natural! Despite enjoying his outside time, most things he indulges in are sedentary- he’s very lazy and drowsy most hours of the night. He’s very defensive of his interests and his home, a little insecure in general. His high caste boosts his self esteem and his mutations knock it down- though he’s very removed from his society as a whole, self isolating with abandon, he dreams of mingling with the upper class in the deep ocean. Every troll and lusus around would probably kill him if he tried though, haha! He doesn’t like to talk about his emotions, or his future.

Wow unfortunate mood.

Special Abilities: None! Not notably strong, compared to any of his peers. A pretty normal kid/fish. Well, his extra arms and tail have some regenerative properties- he’s not sure if this extends to the rest of his body, and he refuses to test it. 

Strife Specibus: Mandible-kind. Xanatl’s teeth are fairly small and underdeveloped, sharp but tiny. He has a set of big dentures he fits over his own teeth, fixed from a few native canal beasts lost teef. 

Ooooh I really like that! You could also maybe have him fashion Greek-fire like molotov cocktails that he is verrrry reticent to use since it would burn his house down possibly.

Fetch Modus: Not sure! Maybe something to do with those lame circular life-cycle charts. Or a call to lotl’s regenerative abilities, like it breaks a piece off the item and it has to regrow so he can use it.

Hmmmm. What about a MITOSIS MODUS, which accepts an item and begins the process of cell division. For the next 24 hours, the item is inaccessible, but after those 24 hours he has two of the item!

Symbol and Meaning: Oh, no idea.

I’ll explain a little more down under title assignation, but I think Aquamini, Sign of the Idiosyncratic works exceptionally well.

Handle: neotenticSalamancer OR neotenicNecramander ? I wasn’t sure if it HAD to follow the GCAT thing, and if it did, what to use. 

You don’t have to follow GCAT! Those trolltags were specific to Hussie’s narrative and you don’t have to adopt that convention. I actually really like neotenicNecromander it’s cute.

Quirk: So I have two ideas for this:

replaces “sh” sounds with “x”, misspells often, not one to xout or use capital letters in general, and ends sentences with his tail =>

Or

u232 3 to r3plac3 “e” and 2 to r3plac3 “s”, 32 billion b3ing th3 numb3r of ba23 pair2 in th3 axolotl2 g3nom3… 2till u232 th3 cut3 tail too tho =>

Ooooh I like the first one for readability! Like yes leetspeak is a valid quirk but also I like when people break from that.

Lusus: Giant salamander-sized two-faced Xoloitzcuintli-type amphibious woofbeast. Not sure what to call this guy! Maybe “Mudpapi”, like mudpuppy. 

I love that nickname :D

Land: Land of Tilapia and Lightning, LOTaL (haha). Big beasts and big storms both threatening to swallow him. 

I super appreciate the acronym so I wanna keep that, but the first word of the Land usually related to its feel and the second to its quest. I can kiiiinda see how you could build a quest around lightning but the Vibe being tilapia doesn’t quite track for me. What about Land of Torches and Lightning, so it’s a bright planet but with two light sources trying to extinguish one another?

Title: I’m not sure I want him to ever god-tier because of his crippling fear of death and change. Like he would probably just blatantly refuse to, and stay content with being at the top of the echeladder pre-god tiers. I don’t know what his title would be, it’s a tough one! It’d be funny to make him a seer (for axolotl’s terrible eyesight, and the myth of xolotl crying his literal eyes out), but he’s probably a page. Of what? I’unno. 

:) I think he is for SURE a Page of Doom then. He has so much to do with death and rot and a lack of embracing that, and I can see potential for the character to really grow into that.

Lunar Sway: Derse? I’m inclined to want to give him both, because of the minor twin theming, but not sure what the rules are there. 

Ehhhh his personality is a lot more Derse with the desire for control over his circumstances. There are certainly cases where characters can have two moons but I don’t think this is it.

Thank you!!

No problem! I hope this helped!

-TR

[abundantchewtoys]

Hiveswap: Xefros’ balcony & bedroom

Last time we played, we had just become Xefros! We saw the neighbourhood getting culled and a strange light erupt from our neighbour/friend’s hive!

---

PACKAGE > Oh my god it's a FLARP manual! Hahahahahh, he's a FLARPer. .... Pfff Dammek used the manual as a real life "guide" to rebellion. Well, it'll just have to be seen whether "SCYTHIAN" (I guess that's the publisher?) has noble or nefarious intentions in creating this particular role play.

MANUAL > Those are completely ridiculous amounts of references. It's like a Wikipedia article. :P

MANUAL + BOX > Okay so he USED to play it, but not any more. I have a feeling we're going to get a lot of intel about the disadvantages of his caste, like no returns.

MANUAL + BILLBOARD / SKYLINE > I get the feeling a lot of FLARP storylines have been suppressed, lately. Seems like Trizza (if she ordered it) is maintaining a Big Brother like oppressive state. I mean, more oppressive than vanilla Alternia, even.

ENTER HIVE >

Oooooh, look at all them attributes! Hahah, nice. He's got a lot of different clothes hanging on the rack, a lot with his symbol - that was mandatory, wasn't it? Or at least showing off your caste. He's got a baseball-equivalent poster up, too!

Those pool themed items though. Oh boy, I wonder what that means, where he got them, and whether it'll be plot relevant later.

He's also got a sports helmet (with horn openings) and padded clothes, so he's actually physically able! Maybe to compensate his weaker telekinesis?

BUTLERY BOOK > "involuntarily aspiring butler" Uuuuhmmmm. Oh yeah, look at the glass ware and cutlery on his desk! Is that the only occupation he thinks is open to him? The spoons seem to be bended, seems like he uses them for a different kind of practice, namely his powers.

POSTER > Oooohhh, the pool theme comes from the fact he's in a sports team, and the pool balls are part of the logo. Huh. Maybe TROLL POOL is a physical sport. :P ... Oh, so the pusher is a traditional rustblood position. Seems like they actually tactically use the ability to communicate with dead players! So it's something Xefros should also (weakly, I suppose) be able to do! That seems like it could, tragically, become relevant later on in some capacity.

SPOONS + TELEKINESIS > Bent spoon get! Now, to create the ultimate strife specibus - BENTSPOONKIND! :P

WAREGRID STUDYSCROLL > ... Pffff, yeah, of course Indigobloods would both care for etiquette and then proceed to sin against it by crushing everything in their palms. I guess all indigobloods have raw STRENGTH, though I presume only Equius' and Horuss' was so very obscenely OP.

SCROLL + MANUAL > Hah, he's only comfortable with spoons, not knives. Something he and Jane could've related on. Before she went off the deep end, I mean.

RECUPERACOON > Ooooh, Dammek trained Xefros to no longer need recuperacoons! That's actually very useful for when he and Joey have to hit the road in their quest, and sleep wherever possible. Seems like the slime in the 'coons might have been addictive to some extent, which isn't surprising considering Gamzee. Even if it protects against the nightmares, in the long run it might have made them all more vulnerable or susceptible. Especially if it were the purplebloods creating chucklevoodoos to give them the nightmares.

TELEKINESIS + 'COON > So the slime keeps his powers at bay at night. I wonder if it's just propaganda, or that it isn't actually something he should be afraid of anymore, now that he's hardened enough to sleep outside of the slime. Even if his powers weren't weak, he might be able to resist the nightmares better now.

LAMP > Pffffffffffff. "Arena Stickball". With all these terms he throws around, I think it might closer to Quidditch than Pool even. Blaperile has a good point! (Table) Stickball is how the Felt call pool! So this is like a massive arena-wide version of pool. I can definitely understand how people get killed in a game where heavy poolballs are flung through the airs with pads.

LAMP > REMINISCE : The Dozer? The snowglobe? ... Are the names for the nightlight and the cue ball? Or the 8-ball and the cueball? If the cueball makes him nervous, then the rebels are definitely aware to some extent of Doc Scratch!!

TROPHY > Yyyyeah, there's no way this "trophy" isn't one of Scratch' seeds masquerading as a trophy, right? Through which he can keep a closer eye on the rebels? Maybe? Maybe Jude is rubbing off on me. And hey, this actually is relevant to Blaperile's theory that Joey would bring the cueball Jade has in the future, from Alternia to Earth! Maybe this is the one? Lol, I dunno.

POSTER > Pffff, Dammek was ALSO being forced into butlerhood, it seems.

MIC + PICKUP > We continue the conversation where we left off. Cool that Xefros, concerned for his own life, also took the time to check up on his friend. Ahahahh, yes, Joey is becoming rather concerned with Xefros. Either his actual wellbeing or his mental one, she hasn't decided yet. :P It'll take some more to convince her everything he's saying is actually true.

"what's a brother" > what are parents? >:]

ooooh, so there ARE other tetrarchs, meaning it really IS a title Xefros is using to continually refer to his "friend" with. Kind of sad.

MIC > Pffffff, are you serious? The batteries are out on this thing. Oh if only Xefros knew someone running around with a spare set of batteries. :P How's that for shizo tech? Human batteries in a troll microphone!

MIC + MANUAL > Pfffffffff, espiacrooner class. A spy/crooner combo. That's definitely difficult to pull off.

[borderlandscast]

his dark materials au part two, including discworld au

whoop whoop, have some more worldbuilding bits. i’m not sure when the third part of this is coming out since i’m done with it for the time being, and want to concentrate on pulling a story together from this hot mess.

it’ll probably be discworld au next, so look foward to that!

nilesy:

scottish. fluent in multiple languages thanks to the many witches that pass through his seaside consul.

works as a witch’s consul, who serves as an intermediary between witches and humans. he fell into the role when tensions increased between the two parties when humans began to expand their towns and roads into witch sanctuaries and territories. as the only son of a married witch and human, nilesy has a near perfect understanding of both sides’ customs and psychology.

nilesy’s daemon is a grey and brown scottish wildcat named ‘lyndon’, goes by ‘she/her’. she has a scrap of treated selkie skin tied around her neck which enables her to glide through water (catfish, get it). she can move like a witch’s daemon, which creeps out a lot of people.

lyndon is a free spirit. she wanders freely at her leisure through the town or around home. reserved like nilesy is, lyndon takes a while to warm up to others. she rarely speaks, but shares a close bond with nilesy. the two are inseperable, and she also acts as the consul in nilesy’s place if he’s not present.

one of ravs’ best friends since they were kids. ravs is his favourite courier since ravs isn’t nosy, never loses a package or letter, is on time and never misses an urgent appointment. he also maintains ravs’ horde of specially trained carrier pigeons as a side hobby.

lives beside the ocean in a small beach cottage just on the outskirts of a port town. nilesy and lyndon keep to themselves. they fish and maintain their own garden, with the help of some witch magic. nilesy always wins the largest vegetable challenge within the town, and is the reigning champion for three years running.

nilesy enjoys a good book, but he’ll also happily pounce on any juicy gossip that goes his way. that’s in part to his job and because he’s a busybody. he’s also quite well connected, since nothing passes through the port without his knowledge.

a little bit shy and a recluse, given his mixed heritage. he has many acquaintences and collaborators, but few close friends. a few townspeople prefer to keep him at arm’s length but a lot like to stay on his good side.

will strife:

an otherworlder who passes into lyra’s world through an opening. will strife is here to win a bet to successfully open a railroad that spans multiple worlds, and is in search of suitable hub worlds.

will strife is from a minecraftesque world that has sky factory elements to it; his world suffered through multiple apocolyptic events, and always pulled back from extinction by the efforts of the survivors. he’s from one of the more civilized steadings that focuses on self sufficiency, technology and research.

will carries around a top tier bag of holding, a collapsible crafting table, atomic disassembler and a cow in a jar, plus a whole suite of tools and weapons. he can craft anything, so long as he has the materials and the requisite recipe. all his crafting recipes are held in a manual that updates itself.

he also has the dimensional book technology, which enables him to ‘bookmark’ certain worlds by crafting a page for it and adding it to the library. he could also technically craft his own world like an overpowered god, but that requires finding specific pages, the majority of which were scattered throughout time and space by one of the aforementioned apocolyptic events. will is interested in these indestructible pages, and collecting information about them is a side hobby for him.

he lacks a daemon and doesn’t feel the need to meditate to see one (no matter how many times the ‘angel’ insists). he denies the existence of magic and more mythical events, largely since he refuses to believe that any benevolent god would willingly inflict such disasterous cycles on a world, and stand by and do nothing about it.

his ‘dust seeing’ goggles were an accidental invention when he dropped his weather ones into a special emulsion that was deemed a failure by a fellow artisan. after drying the wet goggles, will became aware that the whole world and people were saturated with the golden, swirling particles. it seemed especially drawn to the openings that were blocked off, having been dubbed too dangerous to go near. he decided to poke around the opening and search for any information surrounding it.

after that, will had an awful hunch that the universe kept trying to kill him.

parvis:

a low ranking angel serving as a sentry on the lookout for those on the watch list. angels keep a watch list for individuals most likely to cause harm to the authority and the doctrine keeping sentient life under their thrall.

will’s world is one of the luckier ones that escaped said regime since angels aren’t particularly interested in recruiting a world that goes through that many destructive and restorative cycles every century or so.

parvis’ main hobby is people watching (will calls it ‘stalking’, which deeply offends parvis). which is how he discovers will’s laboratory and his erratic and eccentric activities as a young artisan determined to make a name for himself.

will earns a place on the watch list when he invents the ‘dust seeing goggles’ and searching for info. parvis lets it slide, but another sentry reports it.

parvis saves will, and convinces will to follow his dreams of exploring the unknown worlds. this leads to the ultimate bet, and parvis insists on accompanying will.

parvis is composed of dust particles loosely arranged into a human figure; he has the wings but only two. he also clothes himself to emulate humans. he’s utterly enchanted by humans and their workings.

angels are genderless or agender by default, but parvis uses male pronouns for simplicity since humans can be weird about gender and all that.

he doesn’t remember how he became an angel, and is somewhat of a loose cannon by angel standards owing to his attention span and wavering devotion to the authority. he doesn’t care about finding out how he became an angel.

he lacks a proper flesh body, and thus, is generally unable to interact with physical objects to the same degree physical beings can. on the other hand, his vision overlaps multiple dimensions and he can spot openings from a mile away. he has a few other angelic abilities such as shapeshifting and universal translation.

parvis is surprisingly smarter and well read than he acts. he’s been around for long time (longer than what normal humans ever hope to achieve, anyway), and lived through multiple cycles himself. he claims he’s never caused one, but will is skeptical.

most of the time, people ignore his presence; he’s used to being brushed off as a spectre or coincidence. when will strife acknowledges his presence, this makes parvis very happy. it’s annoying when will refuses to believe that angels exist, and keeps passing parvis off as some sort of alien.

honeydew

an otherworlder from ??? (spoiler redacted), who’s been wandering lyra’s world for a decade. this is a secret. many debate his craggy accent and size, plus his vivid orange hair and beard. honeydew is a bit of a cryptid.

a gruff miner and geologist with a famous speciality in precious metals and minerals. honeydew locates veins in mountains and valleys as a means of making money, and is well travelled with his trusty daemon.

his daemon is an african warthog named ‘george’ who goes by ‘she/her’ as pronouns. she is tusked, and can carry as many items three times honeydew’s weight. she’s an excellent digger, excavator, transporter, bloodhound and businesshog. george exhibits a reserved and controlled demeanour in contrast to honeydew.

many think she’s as uncivilized in appearance, like honeydew. she uses this to her advantage to conceal her hidden strength and keen mind.

honeydew is fond of truffles. yes, those ones. he has a very keen sense of smell, which has come in handy more than once. he also boasts a range of survival skills; he’s also an avid herbologist and mycologist.

he is not fond of trolls, which he maintains are real, and avoids places with specific types of rocks and terrain; it’s almost superstitious of him to do so. he waves it off as being a custom from his home country.

he travels with a pickaxe. it has curious properties to it since it gives off an unusual sheen. it never leaves his sight or side. honeydew and george guard it zealously. he says it was a precious gift from a very dear friend of his, whom he’ll never see again.

despite his gruff attitude towards others, honeydew’s presence in towns along trade routes is a positive one; many enjoy his company, stories and down to earth (pun not intended) outlook. he is welcome in many places, including scotland’s premier witch consul’s seaside cottage.

honeydew doesn’t mind tasting dirt. this skill is more useful than you think. i’ll leave this post at that.

[mrmeatys]

(sprites by @augusttrolls​)

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spotify playlist

name: Karama Xiariq

nickname(s): Kara (universal), Kiki (Ceodoa only).

age: 12 sweeps (25 years old)

hatchdate: September 21st (Virgo)

gender: Agender (they/them), avoids gendered language. As masculine as they look they feel connected to femininity.

sexuality: Gay (NBLM)

hemocast: Hemoanon, Lime (#81c335)

symbol: a scarab beetle holding the sun sign.

lusus: Scarabaeous sacer (scarab beetle)

strife: any manner of axe available. Battle, wood chopping, or otherwise.

trolltag: scarabsAnomaly

height: 7’1” without horns, 7’7” with them.

weight: 290-310 lbs roughly.

build: very large with broad shoulders and chest, very muscular, poor posture.

hair: asymmetrical side part most of the time! One side goes past their jaw and the other just past their ears. Their hair is black, wavy, and sort of coarse. It often covers their missing eye or otherwise droops into their face. 

eyes: Their right eye is missing completely, and they rarely if ever use a glass eye or eyepatch. They have hooded eyelids and naturally droopy lids, making them look upset or tired a lot. Their missing eye is surrounded by scars, and their healthy eye has some dark circles. Their eyebrows are thick and often make them look upset as well.

scars: Lots of scarring around missing right eye, and a scar going across their whole face and over their nose. The rest of their body is covered in various scars, and have prominent claw mark scars on their neck. They also have scarring around their missing limbs.

tattoos: A large tattoo of an Egyptian scarab with outstretched wings taking up their left shoulder, a similar but slightly smaller tattoo of a Japanese rhino beetle with outstretched wings on their right shoulder, band tattoos consisting of 3 above the left elbow, three below, and three at their wrist (all on right arm).

piercings: visible piercings are stretched ears (1-½ inches / 38 mm).

personality: Karama is rather shy and a bit awkward and tends not to trust others very easily. They’re a bit stoic and give off the impression of a hardened, cold, mountain troll. That is hardly the truth! As intimidating as they can be, Karama is very gentle and compassionate. They care deeply for others, but oftentimes their fears can get in the way of showing this. Karama is a troll of few words, and prefers to speak through their actions. They’re hard working and disciplined, and very independent. They aren’t one to let others help them easily, and can be very stubborn. Karama means well, but their lack of exposure to other trolls can lead them to be almost childish about some things. They’re a level headed troll, even when they’re anxious, and rarely become angry (that being said, don’t get them to the point of anger). They like comfortable silence and alone time, but are also very lonely. Be their friend!

likes: robotics, insects, plants, folklore/tales, alone time, quilts, working with animals.

dislikes: highbloods, crowds, overlapping noises, hatefulness, tight clothing around their arms.

hobbies: journalling, gardening, tinkering, foraging, nature walks, archery, exploring.

strengths: physically strong, very resourceful, high stamina/endurance, very intimidating.

weaknesses: decreased speed due to being so heavy, no extensive training of their abilities (making them not as strong or easy to use), poor social skills, often restricted by fear of being found out by others or the government.

psych.: social anxiety, autism, PTSD.

phys.: right eye is missing, often not filled with a glass eye. They are missing their right arm and left leg.

abilities: remote sensing/viewing (can sense and “see” things out of their sight range, including specific targets), divination is more accurate and responsive to them, and psychic materialization (the ability to turn psychic energy into tools, objects, weapons and other items, create semi-living constructs and/or create structures of varying permanence).

occupation: self-sufficient homesteader.

religion: no specific religion but very spiritual, practices are based around mostly Paganism.

language(s): Swedish and English, understands Arabic.

voice claim: Henry Cavill as “Geralt of Rivia” in Netflix’s The Witcher.

face claim: Muriel from The Arcana, mostly as a joke. They have no real life face claim.

quadrants:

♢: N/A

♡ : Kallai Galina || #rebel hearts

♤: N/A  

status: 

[creamypudding]

Preview Chapter

‘Sup guys! I wrote a Clack thing for a challenge over on the Clack dicord channel. This story was supposed to be a oneshot and much much longer than what’s below. But, I was struggling with writing this and finishing it, so I’m gonna break this into chapters. Below is chapter one for an unnamed fic. I don’t know how many chapters this thing will have or if I will ever finish it. I hope I will. Please enjoy :)

Chapter 01/?

Title: ? Fandom: FFVII - Modern AU Pairing: Cloud/Zack Chapter Rating: Teen Word Count: 6310

Summary: Cloud gets roped into having a day off. he’s sure he will hate it but is pleasantly surprised. he still hates it... but it’s not quite so bad when a certain dark-haired stranger takes his hand.

It was a quiet and calm Thursday evening. A storm had blown through the city of Charlton five hours earlier, leaving the world crisp and clean. Cloud’s window was open to take full advantage of the cold change the storm had left in its wake. He could feel the heat leaching out and turning his sweatbox apartment into a respectable dwelling after six days and nights of hellfire. It was delightful. Cloud felt energized and motivated to get through his paperwork.

He sat at his desk, the occasional almost-freezing wind tousled his hair and some of the paperwork on his otherwise-neat-and-tidy desk. The sound of cars driving through the wet drifted in from his second-story window, but it was peaceful ambience.

A sound suddenly erupted, starling Cloud so much so that the paper he was studying went flying up into the air.

Hand clutched at his chest. He took two calming breaths and then located his phone.

“Good evening, Strife here.”

“Hello, Cloud!”

He was instantly suspicious of the sweetness in her voice. “Hello,” he said carefully.

“How are you?” “Fine. What do you need?”

An audible gasp sounded through the line. “Why are you being so cold?”

“You don’t call me unless you want something.” He made to look for the paper he had been holding, scanning his desk and floor. “Cloud! I see you on an almost daily basis!”

“Yes, but you never call me unless you know the answer to your demand would probably be no. I’ve known you long enough, Tif.” For some reason, he had trouble saying no to things over the phone. Maybe because he couldn’t see her face to judge if she was actually upset with him or not. Or maybe it was his difficulty in hanging up the phone. Walking away was far easier for him.

“I am deeply hurt.” She certainly sounded it, and Cloud hated that.

“What can I do for you?” he sighed, bracing for the request.

“I don’t know if you remember, but I’ve wanted to find a hobby for myself to compliment my martial arts training for a while now.” “Rings a vague bell.” Cloud located the paper and placed it back on his desk. “Oh good! Well, I have found something.”

“Congratulations! Can I get off the phone now?”

She laughed. “I haven’t gotten to the reason why I’m calling you yet.”

Cloud’s heart sunk. “Get to the chase then.”

“I’ve signed up for dance lessons. It’s ballroom and latin dance.” “Congratulations,” he said once more, not understanding why she was calling him about it.

“It’s on this Saturday. Starts at eleven, sharp, down by the Five Docks studios.” Cloud hummed, not paying attention to her, instead focusing on the invoices that needed to be filled out.

“Are you listening?”

Cloud hummed again. “Well anyway, I’ll text you the details.”

He hummed again but then the words cut through. He sat up a little straighter.  “Wait, what? Why?”

“You’re coming with me.”

And there it was; the sinking feeling and dread. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not,” he said forcefully. “I don’t dance. I’m busy.”

“I don’t dance either, that’s why we are going to the classes. I’ve already signed us up.” “Find someone else.” “There is no one else I’d rather go with.” The automatic response of denials died on his lips as her words struck his heart. He grumbled. “You know I’m busy.”

“You work too hard.”

“I have to. It’s my livelihood. Do you want me derelict and living under a bridge with Toothless-Hank and Scabies-Sharon?”

“Other than those adjectives, they sound nice. Maybe they’ll let you share their cardboard box if you showed them how to dance.” “Bridge trolls don’t dance.” “You’re not a bridge troll just yet, so come dance with me. Let Denzel and Marlene look after the shop. You’ve been overseeing them for two years now. You must have some faith in them or you would have fired them by now.”

Tifa had a point, but Cloud did not want to go. “Denzel can go. He doesn't work Saturday’s.” “No. Make Denzel work Saturday’s for the next ten weeks. C’mon Cloud. You work there seven days a week. You never call it quits. Take a break. Take a break with me! Do something fun! Please,” she whined. “Please, please, pleeeeeease!”

It made Cloud uncomfortable. He wanted to walk away, lock her out. He couldn't hang up. “Fine,” he said gruffly.

A high pitched squeak came through the line. “Thank you, thank you!”

“Ten weeks you said?” “Yes.” “You owe me, big time.”

Cloud hated this. He was standing out the front of some abandoned looking red-brick murder shack in a desolate part of town, dressed in clothes that clung to his body way too much for comfort. His skin liked to breathe, but right now it was getting claustrophobically intimate with dark slacks and an old pale-blue short-sleeved t-shirt he had discarded in the back of his wardrobe because it has always been too tight.

It was nearly eleven and Tifa was nowhere to be seen. He checked his phone. He hung to the side of the building, avoiding all the couples that had been steadily streaming in and out of the complex. Finally, his phone rang. “Where are you?” he snapped. “I’m sorry, I can’t make it today.” “You what? Since when? Why didn’t you tell me this before now?”

“Sorry, Cloud. Something’s just come up. I didn’t want to tell you before I knew you would be there. Please just go in and enjoy yourself. I’ll be there next week. I promise.”

Hands gripped his phone tight, turning knuckles white. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You can. You’ll be fine. I already called the instructor to let her know. She sounds super nice. She said you can dance with her. And then you can show me all you learned.”

Cloud stewed silently for a moment. “Why are we friends again?”

“Because I kicked your bullies ass when we were ten, and your mom makes the best apple pies. Plus you just can’t get rid of me.”

“Ah. That’s right.” The smile tugged at corners of mouth.

Tifa apologized again, promised to make it up to Cloud and then hung up, leaving Cloud to trudge up the many flights of stairs to the dance studio named in the text message Tifa had sent him two days ago.

Cloud’s insides clenched and his heart began working overtime. Tifa was supposed to have been his security blanket. He didn’t do stuff like this — embarrassing things like dancing. Not in private and certainly never in public. He knew he couldn't dance. He knew he would fall flat on his face and everyone would laugh at him. Not to his face, because that would be rude, but after, when they went home to their private dwellings, they would have parties and tell stories of Cloud’s ineptitude to the sound of raucous laughter.

He had just decided that he would turn around and leave but had sadly just reached the top and been spotted by one very enthusiastic lady with brunette hair and a jubilant smile.

“Ah! You must be Cloud?” She walked towards him, arms outstretched.

Cloud looked behind himself and all around, hoping she was addressing someone else. The sudden thought leaped at him that he should have tried to find someone else to pretend to be himself and cursed in his head for having thought of that too late. He was here now, identified by this woman, and no way out. He gave the smallest nod.

“Everyone else is here already. Tifa said you would be joining us solo today. I’m Aerith, your instructor.” She was like a summer breeze. Warm, soft and persistent. Cloud was swept up with her and lead to the other side of the room by the elbow.

Cloud absorbed as much as he could as he was being led. The dance studio at the top of the stairs was all timbered floors. Floor-to-ceiling windows were situated on one wall, and floor-to-ceiling mirrors on the wall running parallel to it. Flowers hung from the ceiling and stood in pots at the far end of the room… where a small crowd of maybe twelve people stood, all looking at him.

It was mortifying. Cloud swallowed the massive lump in his throat. Eyes only ventured to take the most cautious of glances at the people before himself. He mostly focused on feet but could make out that they all seemed to be paired off.

Aerith swung Cloud around, depositing him into the group and then took her place before them all.

“Thank you for joining me here today. I'm your dance instructor, Aerith Gainsborough. I have been doing Ballroom and Latin dancing since I was a little girl. I've danced in various competitions but have found that teaching is my real passion — well, that and flowers as you can see,” she giggled and swept her hand in front of herself to draw attention to the various plants that seemed to be everywhere. “They bring brightness and an energy to the room. But I digress.” She patted down her fluttery skirt that she wore over tights and clasped hands before herself.

Cloud took a small peek around himself at the people on either side of himself. He took heart in seeing that he wasn't the only guy dressed in ridiculous clothes.

“As your instructor, I'm here to create a relaxing, non-judgemental environment for you to learn and flourish in. If you have any questions at any time please ask me. If you need me to slow down at any time, let me know. I will be coming around after the initial demonstration to see how each of you are going, but do speak up if you don't understand what I'm doing as I’m demonstrating it. As we are a large group it will take me some time to make my way through all of you, and I don’t want any of you to feel like you're doing it right or missing out on practicing the dance moves. We only have an hour so time is precious.”

She smiled and looked at everyone in turn before continuing, “I will not force anything on any of you, but I do encourage you to keep an open mind, give this your best go, and enjoy. You are all beginners so no need to be self-conscious. I have structured the course so that each week we will be trying a different dance. We will be progressing from the simple dances, like the waltz today, up to more technically challenging dances as the weeks progress. So I hope, as you grow more confident in your abilities, you will be able to get the hang of all the dances and enjoy yourselves.”

People nodded and hummed in understanding.

“So, let’s not waste any more time. As I have mentioned, first up we have the waltz. A simple three-step dance. We are missing two dancers today so Cloud, if I could get you to pair up with Zack for today’s lesson that would be fantastic.” Aerith waved her hand about.

Zack? He would have to dance with a man? Cloud looked around, feeling even more nervous than before as he was trying to find his dance partner in the crowd. It wasn’t too hard though — a tall, muscular, dark-haired, blue-eyed man  — wearing a big smile — approached him with gusto.

Cloud gulped. He would have to dance with an attractive man? He could feel warmth spreading up his neck and onto his cheeks.

“Hi, I'm Zack.” Hand was extended and smile somehow grew bigger.

Cloud took the offered hand and was the recipient of a handshake as firm as that body looked under that snug fitting dark-grey tank top, and slim-fit tracksuit pants, and it certainly was as warm as the smile.

“Cloud.” He gave a nod, hand was released and they stood side by side, looking back towards Aerith. Cloud was painfully aware of his height next to Zack. His head only reached the other man's shoulders. Zack's arms were like twice the size of Cloud's, and damn if those abs couldn't cut through the fabric they were encased in. Cloud folded arms across his body and curled in on himself a little bit.

Aerith talked a bit more about basic dance terms, moves, and then began instructing, getting everyone to follow along as she demonstrated the basic waltz box step.

Cloud was struggling with his left and right foot and bumped into Zack a couple of times as they practiced side by side. There were, however, a lot of 'sorrys’ and 'excuse mes’ flying around all over the room, so Cloud felt a little bit better.

Once they had done the steps a few times Aerith asked Zack to be her partner to demonstrate the lead and follow dance positions. Cloud concentrated very hard o follow along. He didn't want to get this wrong.

Zack returned to Cloud's side after a few minutes and Aerith clapped her hands together once and gave a cheery, “Now to you!”

This was the moment Cloud had dreaded. He dreaded it even more, now that his dance partner had been replaced with a hunk of meat.

Cloud and Zack looked at each other. Arms went out. “Shall we?” Zack asked, head cocking slightly, inviting Cloud to take his hand.

It was beyond embarrassing. It was mortifying to the highest degree. Cloud took the strangers hand, and their other arms and hands got tangled up together as each tried to wind around the others back. They both ended up with hands on each other's shoulders.

This didn’t seem right. Cloud’s concern must have shown, though it was completely misunderstood, “Don’t look so scared. I’m sure we can figure this out.” Zack flashed an enthusiastic grin.

Aerith’s voice drifted through the air, “One, two, three. One, two, three. One two, three.”

They both moved and instantly clashed. Toes were stepped on, torsos bumped into, and Cloud’s nose got very intimate with Zack’s collarbone. Sorry’s were muttered, positions resumed, and repeated attempts were made, all resulting in the same uncoordinated effect.

“Why’s this not working?” Cloud wondered aloud as they moved and collided once again.

“Beats me. She made it look so easy.”

Both of them looked towards Aerith. She was currently half the halls distance from them, looking at, and critiquing a couple who seemed to be having a way easier time than Cloud and Zack. In fact, the more Cloud looked the more everyone else seemed in sync.

“I’m not cut out for dancing, I told Tifa as much,” he grumbled and frowned at the floor, wanting to ignore the way he was being held by a completely lovely stranger.

“C’mon, Cloud. Everyone else is doing it. We’ll figure it out too,” Zack enthused with a thin smile. Something about Zack’s energy was infecting Cloud — or perhaps he was too embarrassed to give up and walk away.

They attempted again, moving, bumping, and stepping on each other. Zack’s smile vanished, brow scrunched up, and bottom lip was worried at. The man seemed to be really concentrating hard.

“Forward, side, close — Back, side, close — Forward, side, close — Back, side, close.” Aerith’s voice was getting louder but it wasn’t helping the complete disaster of a situation the two men found themselves in.

Their waltz was less a graceful fluid motion than a stop-and-go traffic congestion. Thankfully, the struggle finally ended when Aerith came up to them.

They pulled apart and Zack huffed out, bending slightly at the waist. “Dancing is tough work.”

Cloud nodded rapidly, hoping to garner some sympathy from their instructor and maybe even be let off the hook and be allowed to go home for the rest of the session.

No such luck was had. Aerith gave them a gentle smile and calmly said, “It is when you’re in a wrestling match with your partner.”

“Oh, we’re not wrestling, are we?” Zack looked bewildered. Wide blue eyes set on Cloud for clarity.

Cloud looked at Zack. “Sure felt like it.”

“It definitely wasn't dancing. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.” Aerith started clapping to help everyone else keep their rhythm while she continued talking to them, “I’m sorry, I should have come to you two first. Sometimes when I do have two men dancing together this can happen — each wanting to take the lead. I always tell men that there is nothing wrong with following and taking the more traditional feminine role in dancing. The steps are all the same but in a slightly different order. Some of the most amazing dances I have seen have been by same-sex dance partners. There is something so beautiful about the ability to be both strong and feminine. To watch the flow and grace suddenly shift in energy as the follower becomes the leader in a choreographed instance. It is some of the most dynamic and exciting dancing to witness. So I just want you both to know that both of you can lead, but both of you need to also learn to follow, and it’s a wonderful experience to share with someone. It makes the dancing partnership truly equal, and ballroom dancing, and dancing in general is nothing if not the unity of movement between two bodies. So talk it through, take turns, and enjoy.”

Aerith stepped back, still clapping her hands.

Was that what had happened?

“Woah, okay, that makes total sense now. We were both trying to do the same thing.” Zack laughed with clear relief. “Boy, I’m glad to hear that.” “Why?” Cloud frowned in wonder at Zack.

Sunny smile was thrown his way again. Zack said, “It means there’s hope for us!” He gently bumped his fist against Cloud’s shoulder.

Cloud huff out in slight laughter.

“Hey! That’s more like it. Good to hear you laugh!” Eyes almost sparkled as they looked at Cloud. Zack’s only grew larger, which made Cloud self-conscious.

He focused them back on the task at hand, “So, who will lead first?”

“Do you want to?”

Cloud shrugged.

“I’ll take the lead then.”

Suddenly Cloud wished he had spoken up.

Hand was held out once more. Cloud looked at it for a moment. It was less foreign now. Maybe even slightly welcoming. Cloud took it. Zack’s other arm wound around and hand landed on Cloud’s upper back. It was weird for Cloud to have another person, let alone a man touch him like that. He wasn’t used to physical contact at the best of times so felt a bit nervous. At least he could just rest his left hand on Zack’s right shoulder. That was probably the best thing about being in the follow position.

Zack’s eyebrows raised, encouraging smile was given and a quiet, “Here we go,” shared between the both of them as Zack took the lead, sweeping them off — to nowhere in particular. Cloud struggled. Zack struggled. But at least they moved in a somewhat unified direction, even if there was nothing graceful about them. Cloud counted in his head and heard Zack just above a whisper do the same. Heads were bowed, feet looked at, to make sure minimal stepping on toes occurred.

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.

It went a bit better, feet continued to be carefully watched, and stumbled over. Chests bumped together, apologies uttered. They just seemed to get the hang of things when Aerith announced that they would all be swapping partners in a fun round robin. It didn't sound fun to Cloud. He was just getting used to — and maybe a little attached to his partner-in-graceless crime. Aerith, however being able to read the general mood of the room, assured everyone that they would be able to learn lots from different dance partners, as well as the added bonus of getting to meet people.

That notion seemed more like an added layer of torture to the searing hellscape inferno of embarrassment and discomfort Cloud found himself in. It was made even worse somehow when Aerith asked Cloud if he wouldn't mind taking the follow position on the inside of the circle everyone was forming. It was mortifying for him but what could he do?

He gave Zack an almost forlorn look as he stepped away to his purgatory in the inside circle with all the women. Instant regret and sadness welled up inside. He didn't want the awkwardness of having to dance with anyone else. Cloud felt like they had just come to an understanding and mutual respect which he was surely not going to be afforded by any other man he would have to dance with.

He tried to escape into his head — find a niche of peace and safety somewhere in his anxiety-riddled, anti-social webbing of synapses and neurons. He willed himself to be teleported back to his beloved grocery store. Dealing with Toothless-Trudy and her inane requests for sparkling butter, and lemon flavored breakfast cereal would have been preferable over this. Having to shake every man, woman, and child’s hand and give a cheerful smile to them as they entered his store would have been better than this… but only just.

He wasn’t spared his pain though. Positions were taken, the music flowed, and the dancing started, forcing Cloud to stay focused if he didn’t want to have a complete trainwreck of an experience like he had suffered through with Zack. But at least he had felt like he had suffered that with Zack, instead of inflicting it on others, like he was sure he was doing right now.

It wasn’t as uncoordinated as his first attempt with Zack… in fact Cloud managed to move quite smoothly really. But Cloud still didn’t like it. He listened to Aerith as she clapped, and after about five complete waltz steps, announced that it was time for the outside circle to move to the left and change partners.

Cloud felt awkward every time he had a new partner. Some men were tense, and Cloud wasn’t sure if it was because they had to be dancing, or if it was because they had to dance with Cloud. He couldn’t bring himself to do much else besides say his name and nod in acknowledgment of the other men’s existence when they intruded into his personal-space bubble. He felt uncomfortable every time awkward hands found perch on his waist and in his hand. But he grit through it.

This was definitely a new kind of hell that had been devised just to illicit suffering in Cloud. Tifa owed him — what was bigger than ‘big time’? Ginormous time!

Cloud caught sight of Zack and watched him when he could. And when he couldn’t see Zack’s bumbling form he definitely could hear the calls of ‘excuse me’, ‘so sorry about that’, ‘woops’, as the outside circle moved around the room. It gave Cloud a small sense of still being connected to someone and didn’t make him quite so stranded.

The dancing and endless partner-swaps continued until Zack was next to him, and would be his partner again after this particular round was completed. The small wink Cloud caught Zack give him made Cloud stumble and apologize to his dance partner. He recuperated well enough, keeping his mind focused on getting his feet in order.

But when the swap occurred Cloud nearly leaped at Zack in desperation for familiarity. Hands sought each other out, filling Cloud with a sense of homecoming. Smiles were exchanged — and came far too effortlessly out of Cloud — and little chuckles sounded as they talked while they danced.

“Hey.” “Hey.”

“Learn anything useful?” Cloud asked.

“About ten different ways to step on women’s feet. You?”

“How to be even more awkward in an already awkward situation.”

“You’re so not awkward.” “Maybe not with you,” Cloud muttered.

Zack just smiled brightly and led Cloud around their little spot far more gracefully than ever before — which was to say it was about as graceful as a pair of hippos doing Swan Lake in leotards. But it was still better than before. Maybe there had been a method behind Aerith’s madness. Just maybe.

They danced on a bit more. A few more swaps occurred before some relief finally came and a quick five-minute break was afforded to everyone.

There was far more chatter now. The dancing had clearly been the icebreaker a lot of people had needed. But not Cloud. He’d need a Titanic-sized ice-breaker to get him chatting and laughing to these people.

And then Zack approached, red-faced and happy looking.

“How did you go?” Cloud asked, trying his hand at a friendly quirk of lips.

Zack rubbed at the back of his head and laughed nervously. “I thought I’d be a lot better at this than I actually am. It's really embarrassing. Everyone else is getting the hang of this way easier than me.”

“You're not alone. I nearly stepped on half the guys I danced with and I swear I gave someone a bruise with how tight I was holding on.”

Zack shook with a chesty huff of laughter. “At least you didn't have to worry over knocking over ladies. I feel like I’ve got two left feet.”

They both looked down at Zack’s feet, encased in sneakers.

“Must make buying shoes hard,” Cloud remarked.

Eyes raised and looked at one another. Zack burst out laughing. “It does,” he got out after a moment.

“Well, I feel like I’ve got two right feet. So maybe we can swap out our shoes.”

“Oh yeah, totally,” Zack nodded eagerly. “Such a good thing that we got paired up then, huh?” Zack nudged Cloud with his shoulder and gave a cheeky wink.

Cloud huffed with laughter.

Zack’s smile did not abate. “But really, I swear dancing with you’s way easier, and I'm not so scared of breaking you. You're pretty sturdy,” Zack grinned.

Cloud didn't do compliments that well but he mumbled out a, “Thanks.”

“Wanna go get a drink?” Zack nodded to the table near the stairs with some refreshments on it.

Cloud nodded and they headed over.

“So, what brings you to dance lessons? Got a wedding to go to?” Zack asked.

“No, nothing like that. A friend asked me because she really wanted to go dancing. Her sensei suggested it for her footwork, and I got stuck being the designated partner because she thinks I work too hard and could use a hobby.”

“Oh, wow! I have so many questions — well maybe just two.” Cloud chuckled. Zack was rather bizarre. “What are they?” “Well, one — what do you do?”

They reached the table and grabbed a glass each, filling them with water.

“I own and run my own grocery store,” Cloud said and drank his drink.

“Cool. Where at?”

Cloud felt uncomfortable by the line of questioning, preferring to keep to himself as much as possible. “Um, near Central district.” That was surely vague enough.

Zack nodded, sighed in satisfaction after downing his glass and said, “Must get busy.”

“It does. I like being busy though.”

“Ah, yeah, same here. If I hafta stand still for more than five minutes I start talking up a storm and then I say all kindsa dumb stuff,” Zack laughed.

Cloud refrained from saying, ‘like right now’, but only just.

“Oh, hey, the second question was what kind of martial arts does your friend do?”

“Zangan-Ryu or something like that?”

“Do you know who her sensei is?”

Cloud shook his head.

“Damn. Me and my sister practice and run our own Kendo dojo. I signed us up for dance lessons for the same reason as your friend.”

“Oh, to improve your fighting?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool.” That was definitely interesting to Cloud. He half suspected Tifa had made that stuff up to rope Cloud into this. Maybe there was hope yet that she wasn’t just having a big laugh at his expense.

Aerith clapped her hands, getting everyone’s attention. “All right, back to your partners everyone. Let me show you another step to add to your basic box step which will really get us moving and spinning. Cloud, could I have you partner for me, please?”

That request startled him. He glanced at Zack for reassurance and maybe to see if the man would possibly step in and save him. Zack only did the former by giving Cloud a confident smile and a slight push as he said, “You got this.”

Cloud walked over to Aerith, feeling thousands of eyes boring into him. Never mind that there weren’t that many people here. He just tried to focus on Aerith, who stood before him exuding confidence and warmth. She instructed him, and the rest of the class, clearly, and maneuvered Cloud where he needed to go. Together they demonstrated the basic waltz and the steps after to get more flow through the dance. She then instructed everyone to give it a go and followed Cloud over as he rejoined Zack.

“Okay, you two. I thought now would be a good time for you to swap over leads. Cloud knows what to do, so just follow him as best as you can, Zack.”

“Awright,” Zack enthused with a lot of energy. “Show me how this goes.” Zack held out his hands and Cloud took the leading position with him, hand sliding around broad back with elbows out and proud. Zack's hand was on Cloud's waist but Cloud maneuvered it up to the top of his shoulder.

“Woops.” Zack gave a sheepish grin. “Glad I got you here to set me straight,” he chuckled.

Cloud huffed with laughter but pushed the smile down and put on his serious face.

Hands were clasped and they began.

Cloud concentrated, keeping them moving to the music and guiding Zack when he got his feet all mixed up. It was clunky at first — Cloud had to keep correcting Zack, but after the fourth time around their little space, Zack was following along.

Cloud kept counting under his breath and looked at their feet. A warm squeeze on his shoulder made him raise his head and eyes to meet soft features completely trained and focused on himself.

“You’re doing great,” Zack almost whispered with seemingly misplaced affectionate warmth.

Cloud’s steps faltered, Zack collided with Cloud, headbutting him with the top of his chin. Cloud winced and grunted.

“Shit! You okay?” Zack asked, slipping out of Cloud’s hold, stepping back a little, and running concerned fingers over Cloud’s forehead and into his hair, rubbing at where they had bumped into each other.

Cloud’s heart raced with panic. “Yeah, yeah. Here, let’s keep going before Aerith notices.” He composed himself, head only smarting a little bit. He grabbed hands and began their dance again. “One, two, three. One two, three,” he counted, to stop himself from acknowledging how handsome his dancing partner was. Zack’s smile had been too big, and his voice too soft, and kind.

They got back on track. The music continued, and Cloud and Zack were beginning to glide.

“Looking really good, guys. Eyes up, Cloud,” Aerith chirped as she breezed past.

Cloud raised his head and gave the most cautious of glances up at Zack, not wanting to be completely disarmed like before. Zack still smiled but it wasn’t completely unexpected this time, so Cloud relaxed a little.

“All right everyone. You’re looking graceful and confident. Time to open the floor right up. Leaders, go wherever you want. Just be sure not to bump into anyone. You’re doing a wonderful job reining Zack in, Cloud,” she said with such light and cheer in her voice.

“Hey!” Zack protested with ease and jest, as chuckles and titters went up all around. “Not you too!” Zack directed at Cloud, in response to his small laugh.

Cloud did a poor job of holding in his smile. “Here, let’s show them what we can do,” he said quietly. The excitement on Zack's face and the eager nod grew Cloud’s confidence. He took a deep breath and began moving them hither and thither. They voided all kinds of human obstacles and began building up speed as they went around and around. Cloud tried to focus on their surroundings, which wasn’t too hard because the way that Zack’s face was lit up was a little too frightening to look at without a distraction to temper his nerves.

But Zack still got under Cloud’s skin. It was the way Zack hummed along to the music — it was the way Cloud could feel lean, powerful muscles react and twitch under his palm as he guided them across the room — it was the warmth of Zack’s handhold, and soft breath occasionally caressing Cloud’s cheek — but most of all it was that smile of pure bliss. Cloud wondered how dancing could make someone so happy… and how it was managing to make Cloud feel happy too.

They swayed, danced, and stepped to and fro. Worry, anxiety, stress, and agitation slipped off Cloud’s shoulders and a timid smile grew. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe it was even a little fun. Cloud thought he liked dictating where they went. He liked sweeping them past the windows, the mirrors, the dozens of plants. He liked how Zack followed, eager and willing to do Cloud’s bidding. It was a nice change from the beginning of the session.

Before he knew it the music came to an end. It took a few moments for it to register and then Cloud brought them to a stop. Zack and Cloud looked towards where Aerith stood, by the black speakers on a table by the windows.

“That was wonderful, everyone. Congratulations! You’ve just completed your first dance lesson.” Everyone clapped and cheered. Cloud had a big grin on his face and looked up at his dance partner, who also wore a massive smile.

“You did really well,” Cloud said, huffing a little with the exertion of their previous movements.

“We both did. We were dancing and spinning and not hitting anything — not even each other,” Zack tittered and then turned serious, though he was still smiling, though very gently. “You’re, like, the best dancer.”

Cloud’s eyes dropped, but his smile didn’t. He shook his head. “No.”

“Yeah. Trust me. I danced with a lot of people here today.” There was a soft chuckle that accompanied that remark, which made Cloud laugh a little as well.

He raised his eyes again and felt really warm all over.

“You two did so well together,” Aerith said, voice growing closer.

Cloud became exceptionally self-conscious over the fact that he and Zack were still in the dancing position while everyone else was moving off, gathering their things. Cloud made to slip his hand out of Zack’s, but not before he felt a small squeeze be given to him. Hands dropped away and Cloud withdrew from holding Zack, and looked at Aerith. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“Cloud here is really amazing. He knows where he’s going. Makes it real easy to follow along. I don’t know what it was before but I was struggling,” Zack enthused.

If Cloud wasn’t blushing before he definitely could feel his neck and cheeks heating up now.

“Sometimes all it takes is the right partner. But I’ll be seeing both you back here next week with your actual dancing partners, right?”

“You betcha. Yuffie should be all better by then.”

Cloud nodded. He would kick — verbally kick — Tifa’s butt if she bailed on him again.

“Fantastic. Again, wonderful work you two. Zack, you really did do a lot better.” Hands went to hips, chest puffed a little. “Thanks. I had an awesome partner.”

Aerith smiled at both of them, seemed to catch sight of something behind them and excused herself, going over to talk to another couple. “Is she okay?” Cloud asked.

“Huh? Who?”

“Your sister.”

“Oh! Yeah, she’s just got a cold. She could have come out today, to be honest with you. But I didn’t want to get her snot all over me.” Zack chuckled and the smile mellowed but wasn’t any less present. “I’m really glad I had you as my partner today.”

It became hard to swallow for a moment. Cloud felt very uncomfortable. “I’ll see you next week.” “Sure. Don’t work too hard.”

They waved at each other. Cloud briefly watched Zack turn to the back of the hall before he headed towards the stairs. He could still feel warm, calloused hand on his own, and a soft pressure on his shoulder, if he really thought about it. Making short work of crossing the studio floor and reaching the top of the stairs, Cloud cast another glance back to Zack, who was pulling on a dark jacket and laughing about something with Aerith. The sight of the other man-made Cloud smile and something bubbled out, making him chuckle quietly.

Suddenly eyes were on him from across the room. Zack’s big, toothy smile spread, mouth opened up and voice boomed, “Have a great weekend, Cloud! See you next week! Hope your head’s okay!” Zack waved wildly.

Cloud waved back and descended the stairs. His smile came back out with a little more force once he was out amongst the summer air. He looked around the empty road before himself and gave his hand a little squeeze. Maybe having some time off wasn’t such a terrible thing after all. And maybe… just maybe, Tifa had done him a favor by getting him to come out to do this dancing thing. But he would never tell her.

[crowleplays]

Phobos Deimos

Basics

Name ► Phobos Deimos Nickname[s] ► Pho, PD, Cinders (she does not enjoy this one at all) Blood Color ► Yellow Age ► 14 sweeps Voiceclaim ► Angel Coulby D.O.B. ► March 20 Astrological Sign ► Pisces/Aries cusp Alignment ► Chaotic Neutral Gender ► Female Height ► 5’2” Weight ► 142 lbs Body Type ► Pear shaped, toned but still soft Orientation ► Pansexual but good luck getting her to open up romantically Occupation[s] ► Witch and owner of an occult shop, which sells items of varying magical legitimacy and safety Lusus ► Springbok Antelope Abilities Psionics ► Spiritual & Arcane Perception – Phobos is able to pick up on spiritual and arcane activity and energies, the latter of which she’s generally able to identify the type for. She’s also able to see most ghosts. Other Abilities ► Fire, Sand, Light, and Healing/Growth Magic – She’s a witch it’s her MO. Not obscenely powerful, but enough to be on par with a gifted psionic. Flight – She has wings structured like a hummingbird hawk moth’s, which allow her to fly for short amounts of time. Astral Projection – Her soul was jiggled a little loose during her near-death experience, so she’s able to tug it out and let it roam. The further distance she travels, the more it drains her, and while she’s able to perceive things on both ends if she wants to, it works better if she focuses on the projection fully and zones out physically. Strife Specibus ►  x2 Haladiekind – They are mainly her foci for magic, but can also be used for physical attacks. Doubled edged, double bladed daggers with a central grip and knuckle dusters on the outside. Pistolkind – Sometimes it’s better to not be flashy and just shoot a bitch. PC Info Trollian Handle ► reawakenedTheurgist Typing Quirk ► Replaces L’s with £, stutters when upset/scared/flustered/ect Example ► Tends t'speak with a regiona£ accent an' c£ips the endin' off certain words. I-I-If sh-sh-she's u-upset o-or s-s-s-scared sh-she s-s-stutters.

 ▼ Personality ▼ Formerly a very open, trusting, and bubbly individual, the past few sweeps haven’t been kind to the mindset that Phobos once held. She comes across very blunt, only dancing around her genuine opinions of people and what she thinks when she’s around someone she perceives to be a threat. Even then, she’s not above pushing her luck in certain situations, as should things turn violent she has a considerable amount of magic she can rely upon to take care of what faces her. Or, well, a decent amount of what faces her. At the end of the night, Phobos is focused on one thing and one thing only: survival. If she has to run to save her skin, she’ll do so, and unless someone has endeared themselves to her (or she is required to act otherwise), she’ll leave them behind in the dust. However when it comes to the fight vs flight ratio, Phobos is absolutely someone that will throw down first. Combat is something that she’s grown from hating to enjoying a lot, as it allows her not only to exercise but vent her emotions in a…”productive” manner.

That’s not to say she doesn’t care about other people, of course. She’s just very reluctant to allow herself to be open with people, especially considering the very recent mutation she’s had to hide. Anxiety over many of her past relationships failing also hasn’t helped at all, as she sees herself as an irresponsible and unhealthy individual to be quadrants with. Friends are a possibility, but Phobos requires a lot of reassurance and proof that someone is not only patient enough but can emotionally handle all the chaos that comes along with her life. If she doesn’t think the relationship will work out and could potentially hurt someone, she’s quick to say so and warn them of that fact. She struggles with not cutting people off out of fear of hurting them, often dropping contact with nothing but her first warning to go off of.

Should you ever gain her friendship, though, she’s incredibly nurturing and caring, as well as unshakably loyal once you’ve earned her faith. While she’s struggled with following it, Phobos is also fairly good at dispensing advice and can dip into more pale or ashen tendencies if she believes someone needs that. Of course this is paired with her regular amounts of cynicism and sarcasm; it’s recommended not to have too-thin skin around Phobos. She’ll compliment just as much as she’ll playfully rag on you, likely swearing up and down the entire Alternian language the whole way. She has a filter for this when she’s around children, as she was a teacher in her former life, but the moment she catches them swearing casually it’s gone. Her “old demeanor” is still very much present despite what she’d like to think or say, it’s just hidden behind a lot of walls, suspicions, and anxiety.

Most of what other people get to see, though, is the witch behind the counter of an occult shop. She really likes to play up the mystical aspect and spooky vibes of her job. Helps convince people to buy stuff and spreads the word to bring in more customers. Whether or not they believe her magic is real doesn’t matter; it sells when you make it flashy enough.

▼ Strengths VS Weaknesses ▼

Strengths ► Perceptive | Driven | Honest

Weaknesses ► Cynical | Stubborn | Flighty

 ▼ Likes ▼

✔ General “witchy” paraphernalia ✔ Relaxing near fireplaces ✔ Loose, comfy scarves ✔ Libraries ✔ Incense (Dragon’s Blood and Cedar are favorites) ✔ Bird watching ✔ Anything with an autumn aesthetic ✔ Handmade clothes ✔ Walks in the woods ✔ Honey candy ✔ Cats

 ▼ Dislikes ▼

✘ Subjugs ✘ Too much noise ✘ Sudden movements ✘ Being touched without warning ✘ “Unnatural” silence ✘ Uppity trolls ✘ Generally most trolls blue and above on principle ✘ Any kind of religious zealots or evangelists ✘ Dealing with her bosses ✘ Cheap liquor ✘ Centipedes, to the degree that she’ll panic and shoot at them

 ▼ Extra ▼

 ► While she’s far better at using her magic in combat than to heal, she’s recently been practicing to try and get better at it. It’s a skill she let atrophy after moving away from home, which she regrets doing now that she has to relearn what she was once really fucking good at.  ► She’s willing to tolerate most people if it benefits her, but highbloods will have a harder time gaining her trust.  ► She has a very hard time sleeping fully through the day, usually due to her psionics allowing her to see and hear ghosts.  ► Her wings are bound most of the time, though the way they’re structured allows her to lay them flat against her back naturally and prevents the binding from damaging them too much.  ► Flying takes a lot out of her. She’s only had her wings for 4 sweeps and they’ve only been fully grown for 2.  ► She’s more in-shape and toned than you’d expect for a lowblood. One of her old teachers was ex-fleet and made her do basic training exercises nightly, which is a routine she tries to keep up.  ► That being said, she has very little love for the fleet and is suspicious of anyone she finds bearing the emblem.  ► Before everything started to fall apart, she planned to dodge the draft with her ex-moirail and just travel through space with her.  ► Now she’s set up an occult shop and sells minor enchantments and crystals to goth kids and hipsters. Also some cursed items and magical advice. Really anything that’ll sell, honestly. She needs the money.  ► There’s always at least some kind of notebook on her. She’s very diligent about recording information that she feels is important. It also gives her a way to voice her thoughts without talking to anyone.  ► She grew up with very little exposure to modern Alternian technology for the most part, which has driven her to learn as much as she can about it. The prospect of technomancy fascinates her, though she’s not able to perform any herself.

▼ Quadrants ▼

 ► Moirail: N/A  ► Matesprit: N/A  ► Kismesis: N/A  ► Auspistice: N/A

▼ Other Relationships ▼

Eeleth Kuvlew [Pure Hope] ► Your ex-matesprit and the source of a never-ending flood of complicated emotions. You hurt him deeper than anyone ever could or has, which haunts you worse than any ghost. Recently, you spoke with him after a sweep of silence, though had your hands not been tied it would’ve been much sooner. Things are still complicated, and you doubt he’ll respond to any of your letters or online messages, but that won’t keep you from writing him about important things. You don’t want to give up talking to him.

Marcel Bradik [Lowered Humanity] ► Your other ex-matesprit, though one of a much shorter time. You don’t blame him for anything that happened; all of that was on you. He taught you a fair few things while you dated, the most important being how to shoot a gun and to carry one on you at all times. The thought has crossed your mind to try and seek him out, but you’ve decided against it due to the fact that he’s a shadowdropper and prone to having a temper. Best to let sleeping dogs lie.

[razzle-zazzle]

902 Words; Gamzee Lalonde AU, 2003/six years pre-SBURB/SGRUB

@ceabu

“I—I just don’t think—”

“Duusna.” Innida’s voice was sharp, her hands on his shoulders, “I am asking you to think critically for once in your life.” Her eyes narrowed to slits. “Every troll is taught how to fight, and with more than just their choice of weapon. Our knowledge of the outside world is limited, structured. Almost nothing is known of Alternian culture and practically nothing is being done about it. And absolutely zero efforts have been made to integrate the Community into society.”

“Yeah, but—” Duusna wrenched free of Innida’s grip and stepped back, looking everywhere but at Innida, “That can’t—that couldn’t possibly—there’s no way it means what you’re—what you’re telling me it means.” He fiddled with his bracelet, running his fingers over the metal beads, his claws clicking quietly against them.

Innida snarled, pinching the bridge of her nose. This really wasn’t the place to be doing this—not here, in the middle of the hallway, just outside Crafts Room E—but dragging Duusna away to a more private area would no doubt draw more attention than Innida wanted. The door was open, for god’s sake. She could hear people bustling around in there and making use of the supplies.

God, did Duusna have to be so thick-skulled about everything?

Innida fixed him with a glare. “If the shoe fits, Duusna.” She hissed.

“Innida, that—that can’t—”

“What’s going on here?” Both Innida and Duusna flinched back at Anskra’s voice, though Innida, at least, was capable of maintaining some sense of dignity about it.

Even worse, Anskra was accompanied by Ardaxx, who must be helping her with whatever errands she was running. More people was… not optimal.

“Nothing—nothing you need to worry about.” Duusna placated, “Innida was just telling me something—something interesting.”

Anskra smiled warmly. It was no wonder she was seen as an authority figure in the Community when she had a smile like that—all soft features, mirth in her gaze, with a calculating mind behind it. “Well, if it’s interesting, then I’d like to hear it.”

Innida fidgeted with the fabric of her skirt, “I’m sure you and Mr. Yelnir are busy, Miss Collet.” Her lips were pursed, the texture of her skirt between her fingers a comfort, but her underdeveloped fins still flared anyway. “I wouldn’t want to waste your time.”

Anskra chuckled. “Nonsense!” She shuffled through the folders in her hands, handing one of them to Ardaxx, “Bring this to Admin for me, dear?”

Ardaxx nodded, “Of course, Annie.” He took the folder and continued walking, leaving the other three alone in the hallway.

Anskra smiled as he went, then turned back to where Duusna and Innida were fidgeting nervously. “I can’t spare more than a few moments, but I’d love to hear whatever it is you two are talking about. Unless it’s something personal~.” She winked conspiratorially, and Innida was viscerally reminded that Anskra was only thirty-five years old.

Innida let go of her skirt and opened her mouth, fully prepared to take the out offered to her. Knowing Anskra, she’d redirect them to somewhere more private, allowing Innida to stop worrying about making a scene.

Of course, before Innida could even speak, Duusna opened his mouth and asked, “I—I need to—to ask—” He fumbled, nervousness exacerbating his stutter, “Is—is it true—”

Anskra didn’t interrupt, placid smile plastered on her face as she waited for Duusna to finish.

Innida tensed, glancing towards the open door. Most of the occupants were younger than her—too young to be hearing what Innida had figured out. She’d just wanted to confide the truth in a friend her age, to feel less like the whole sky was bearing down on her. She didn’t want it spreading.

But before she could think of a way to interrupt Duusna that didn’t scream coverup, he managed to spit out what he wanted to say.

“Is it true that we’re all just—that we’re all just weapons?”

Anskra’s eyes widened, smile gone.

From somewhere in the crafts room, a paintbrush clattered to the floor.

Innida cringed.

“I—” Anskra’s grip on the folders tightened, green eyes darting every which way. “I don’t think that’s a subject one should be broaching out in the middle of the hall, sweetie.” It was clear she didn’t really know what to do with the question given to her. “Where did you even come across such an idea?”

Duusna cringed.

“I did.” Innida stepped in, her voice hushed. “It makes sense, though, doesn’t it? Why every troll has to go through several years of strife training, why the higher-ups are more concerned with understanding our biology than Alternian culture.” Her throat was tight, eyes narrowed to slits.

The trolls inside the room—Colton, Evalva, and Glaxal, if Innida remembered right—had all gone quiet, likely eavesdropping.

Innida found she didn’t particularly care, though. She stepped forwards, hands clenching into fists, the volume of her voice rising ever so slightly.

“It’s true, isn’t it? We aren’t people to them, just assets to hide away and groom into weapons, aren’t we?”

Anskra cringed. “I don’t know.” She stepped back. “I’ll—I’ll look into it, okay?” She fixed Innida with a searching look. “But in the meantime,” her voice was louder, here, clearly meant to carry far enough for any eavesdroppers to hear, “I don’t think this is a discussion to be had so… freely.”

As she hurried away, Innida wondered if maybe she should have kept her mouth shut.

[starlitfunkster]

After a nearly sleepless night yesterday, only spent working on this and having fun on SBURB Sim... I have finally nearly completed the main characters of this AU.

The only one’s not completed yet is (Y) Quarters and (Y) Cans. I might figure something out for them soon, but for now...

Here is the nearly completed Demon / Angel AU (aka Light N Dark Stuck). And yes, I did intentionally not design them because there is too many. And also yes, I did my self-insert Fan kid for this AU, as she is a new God-Tier learning more about herself everyday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

H = Hikari, or Light counterpart Y = Yami, or Dark counterpart (You might notice that Clover (Y) doesn’t exist… he does though. Just as Clover Melody, mostly due to his code matching Anne’s. Though that is intentional. He is also a Rogue of Light, with Anne being a Heir of Heart. More on that in their bios.) John Egbert - Fairy Prince of Winds/Breath - He doesn’t really act like a prince, instead being pretty goofy and cheerful (also wanting to be as free as everyone else). Enters the tournament thanks to Anne Melody being nearby (who had no connections with demons or angels at the moment), and his friends helpful sprite’s. His attribute is Breath/Wind, and he has 15 fairies that fly with him (all of which also help Anne). Rose Lalonde - Clairvoyant Fortuneteller of Light - Her predictions usually come true, as she can see into the future. Her class as Seer does allow that. She has an affinity with giving lucky charms to other people, mostly because it shares the good luck with the others around her. Jade Harley - Half Dog Space Traveller - She loves thinking about space and researching about it. While her ‘friend’ (more like guardian) isn’t against that idea, he seems to be awaiting the fact that she is gazing out towards Snowman. Her space abilities lets her breathe in space, and also move planets around.. she hasn’t had any purpose using those powers though, as she has friends to look after! Dave Strider - Striding Knight of Time - While he was one of the few kids that have ascended, he is mostly still a knight in training. This is because he has to make sure John stays safe, and also that he becomes the best Knight of Time ever… well sort of. Sometimes he’s a DJ at a club in the ‘Middle Lands’ where Demons and Angels can hang out with the ‘Mortal’ beings. Probably one of the best DJ’s at this particular club called the Twilight’s Timepiece (Yes, I came up with that name and I really hope you guys have any better ideas-). Jane Crocker - Maiden of Life - A woman who uses her Life magic very efficiently, mostly towards the forest where fairies reside in. Nature blooms around her, and she is one of Lady Lalonde’s favorite humans due to her liking life. Not that Lady Lalonde should ever pick favorites… Roxy Lalonde - Lady Robin Hood - She steals from the rich to give to the poor. Those being the carapaces who are suffering from the more richer carapaces that are ‘above’ them. WV appreciates her kind and social nature towards everyone, so much that it’s hard to suspect that she would steal for the poor! Her void powers make sure that no rich carapace suspects that she was even there. Jake English - Young English’s Hopeful Page - Yes, Lord English’s personal Page, and also one of Dave’s students. He is mostly learning how to harness his abilities as a Hope user. I mean, what could Hope do? Perhaps he keeps everyone sane in secret, but who knows. Dirk Strider - The Prince of Love(?) - Whilst he is an incubus, or at least an half-incubus half-human hybrid, he has no interest in love. Unfortunately though, his fake interest in love attracted the attention of a pretty immature incubus. Said incubus wants to learn all he can about love… and also learn about some maturity. Anne Melody - Inheritor of Emotions - A girl who wants to inherit her own emotions, and also who wants to share her ideals with other people. She thinks everyone should be true to themselves, and seems to appreciate John being true to himself. As she always says: “You should always learn to accept yourself with those who are close to you.” Clover Melody - Incubus of Luck - The luckiest of all the incubi, this one seems different from his other universe counterpart. In fact, he has more self-control then them. They also love spreading luck to other people through friendship. Itchy (H) - Angel in Training - He.. really isn’t used to being an angel. He is like a curious young boy whenever asking about the Muse of Light and Space.. or fairies. For some reason, he is attracted to figuring out the fairies and learning all about their magical abilities using the Aspects. Doze (H) - Dream Watching Angel - Typically he will be found fondly gazing at one of his followers to peer into their dreams. If a dream is about to go into a nightmare and he happens to take a liking to you, he may use his powers to change that nightmare into a dream. Though that usually is rare, yet exciting when that does happen… except the people he typically likes cannot remember their dreams all the time. Trace (H) - Clairvoyant in Training - While he can gaze into the past, he mostly has to rely on Fin (H) when it comes to fortune telling. Rose also aids in helping him learn more about clairvoyance and thus, fortune telling. Really he has a lot to learn for now. Clover (H) - Angel of Luck and Wheels - Test your luck as he says! He may spread luck, but only to those who dare, those who accept themselves for who they are and push themselves to the limit! He also runs a gameshow in the ‘Middle Lands’, though nobody ever remembers the name of it. (Or it’s because I can’t think of anything right now) Fin (H) - Master Clairvoyant - He can see into the future, thus meaning he must teach Trace and Rose all about clairvoyance. His eyes glisten with the cosmos, and he seems really interested in teaching them about future sight powers and especially clairvoyance. He is also though, pretty laid-back and straight forward. Though that doesn’t mean you should mess with him! Die (H) - Voodoo Master of Yin - While he is a master of the light as a whole, he still has yet to understand the dark. This causes him to be a bit chaotic sometimes, mostly because he just wants something bad to happen to him. It doesn’t help that he keeps getting good omens… Crowbar (H) - Co-Leader of Angels - While he does lead the main angels, he works under Snowman and mostly serves Lady Lalonde.. despite never seeing her in person before. He wields a 1/2 Crowbar, though he has never been seen hitting anyone or anything with it. It’s possible he may just be a pacifist though. Snowman (H + Y) - Mother of Angels and Demons - While she has raised the demons and angels of which she helped create, it appears that she mostly focuses on the human children called ‘God-Tiers’ that everyone appears to focus on. She focuses on two in particular though… Stitch (H) - Tailor of The Angels - He is well, the tailor for the angels! He makes their uniforms, and lives in the ‘Middle Lands’ with the other Tailor. They seem to work together, as they are just two no-nonsense men who just want to be helpful to their respective people (and possibly respected). Sawbuck (H) - Defense Master - He and his dark counterpart are teachers to various individuals who want to learn how to defend themselves. While he focuses on the straightforward defense mechanisms (and also strife specibi), he also seems to have a nack for gazing out into space for seemingly no reason. Oh well, it’s probably because Gamzee is a bad influence to his class. Matchsticks (H) - Raiser of Phoenix’s - Yes, this guy raises actual phoenix’s. No joke. He owns about 20 of them, and has a penchant for keeping these beautiful beings safe. One of them though has a broken wing, but that won’t stop this guy from watching over them! He even helps out the Phoenix with the broken wing.. talk about a very caring angel. Eggs (H) - The Fairy King - Yes he is the King of the fairies. He is less dumb than his demon counterpart (and slightly older too), and yet is more prone to worrying due to his son being a little bit rebellious. He has to be reminded by his Moirail that this is just normal for kids his age. But you never know! Biscuits (H) - Holy Pastry Baker - Eggs (H)’s friend and probably one of the better Holy Pastry bakers. He helps Jane out when she needs a particular recipe, and seems to go to a particular Troll’s hive whenever possible in the ‘Middle Lands’. (That being a Fan Troll: Durhal Bepsom) Also he’s probably one of the more sweeter angels to talk too. Quarters (H) - Angel’s Archery Master - He’s probably one of the best archer’s the angels ever have, and he also teaches archery to the other angels. And also Equius! Although that is sort of failing due to Equius being so STRONG and working on controlling his strength.. that and also two of the angels pick on him because he’s a demon interested in archery. This Quarters though says that they really aren’t ones to talk, as another demon that he knows is also interested in archery, but couldn’t come due to being too shy. Cans (H) - Master of The Fists - He is teaching very strong demons and angels to control their strength, and also teaching them how to be brave and fight back against monsters. Was once a human like all the others, but was killed by a very unfriendly ‘Graceful Assassin’. Itchy (Y) - Immature Incubus - An incubus who wants to fuck anybody near him. Though he has to try and be more mature than that, and also have some self control to him. He is trying to learn that from The Prince of Love, though maybe he should just learn from someone else… Doze (Y) - Sleepy Jinn - He is mainly asleep in his lamp, in which it has magic within it to show him the outside world even while trapped in his lamp. When he is summoned from his lamp to grant a wish, he will warn that user to not abuse his powers. Unfortunately a majority of mortals that end up using his powers (and keeping his lamp) tend to lose themselves. He does however, keep a mirror that can release the user from his curse (usually activates at around 4 or 6 wishes out of 13), however he himself cannot use it. Someone close to the user or the user themselves must use the mirror so the user can gaze into it and free themselves from the curse. Trace (Y) - Lamia Whom Retraces Pasts - Yes, he and Fin are males, and yes those two sometimes choose humans to mate with when the pheromones are picked up. Most of the human women that are mated with do not get pregnant, as that is very rare.. Oh and he can also follow past trails to find potential friends/mates (depends on the gender). Fin (Y) - Lamia Whom Predicts Futures - While he too is a male, he never really told his friend that he can technically reproduce as well. He typically chooses his mates sparingly, as most of the human mates do not live for long due to him and Trace having to coil them. He will also gaze into space just to think about the victims he took the lives of. Die (Y) - Voodoo Master of Yang - He is the more miserable counterpart to the Voodoo Master of Yin’s chaotic personality. It’s mostly because he can only see bad things, and wants something good to happen to him for once. He also has very bad luck, even with Clover Melody’s help. Crowbar (Y) - Co-Leader of Demons - He is technically the leader of demons, trying to keep them in check. Especially when he has to keep Itchy in check so he doesn’t.. you know. He is pretty calm, a bit too calm, but I guess you have to be in order to not let the madness consume you. Stitch (Y) - Tailor for The Demons - As said before, he works with the Tailor for The Angels in the same building. And also as said before, he is a no nonsense man. Will not hesitate to smack (Y) Itchy with his cane (always next to him at all times) if he hears one more inappropriate remark.. Sawbuck (Y) - Shield Master - He can create psychic shields to protect him from magical attacks, and he typically is seen teaching people how to protect themselves from magic attacks. Trust me, it’s very good for people to learn that in the ‘Under World’ because a lot of demons in hell use magic attacks.. especially ‘Shadow Magic’. Matchsticks (Y) - Lord of The Fire Pits - He has so many fire pits and so many followers that it’s even surprising that Crowbar can keep this guy in check. Maybe it’s because he is (somewhat but not that much) a bit of a flirt to ladies, and happens to be protective towards the weaker Fire demons, especially Nepeta and (Y) Biscuits. Eggs (Y) - Raiser of Slimes - He raises all kinds of slimes near his home area. This home area is full of various slimes, all of which based on the slimes from Slime Rancher. He loves raising them, and yet sometimes his slime ladies tend to huddle near (Y) Biscuits due to his warmth. Biscuits (Y) - Warmest of All Fires - He is the warmest of all fire demons, and seems to enjoy being close to his friends (and possible family) as they use his warmth for well.. warming themselves up! It’s kind of cute when the slime ladies and some weaker fire demons curl up near (Y) Biscuits for warmth. Quarters (Y) - Cosmic Ambassador - Cans (Y) - Mammoth of Strength -