#also yes her crown is made of knives

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

Beware The Ides Of March

[waterfire1848]

Au. Everything happens the same, except azula is just pretending the whole time. Azula as a kid her true personality is cold, distant, loves being alone, hates people, hates talking to people, loves being in the background/dark not in spotlight,. Knows how to control her emotions. Have rebellion to ozai by training in secret, fire bending, lightning, meditation, hth combat, martial arts, combat, acrobatics, chi, swordmanship, knives throwing, aim, weaponry/weapons, stealth, poison, physical strength, assassin, ninja, lock picking, speed, stamina, athletic, endurance, balance, agility, range, flexibility, mobility etc.. studied learned scroll after scroll after scroll about everything, be it new or old, forgotten or abandoned, dark or dangerous, forbidden or illegal or legal, other element or nation... Also have flame temp. Of 6000 Celsius, and made her own flame immune to herself, and have flame resistance of 3500 Celsius (her flame is soooo Bright).. knows that the source of fire is breath, the true meaning of fire is life. (Back to present) On the ending azula finally challenge ozai, not in agni Kai (azula doesn't care about his pride or honor)(fight like how aang vs ozai out of the field) and wins without even breaking a sweat, of course the gaang + ty lee Mai arrived and saw the whole thing, speechless, iroh (corrupt) said azula needs to go down, both fight, azula wins. Gaang + ty lee n Mai, stunned, just watched azula fights and defeat the 2 strongest fire benders they knew without breaking a sweat, not even look tired, made the 2 (ozai n iroh) in the verge of death by how long, brutal she fights them, giving them a living hell. Gaang + ty lee n Mai now knows the truth (azula true persona) azula gives the crown to zuko, doesn't care about it nor the responsibilities of it, just want to be alone. But they are still jaw drop.... Maizula, tyzula, azutara.. (azula IS toe to toe with fully realize avatar)

I was actually thinking of only giving a short one of this, but then I think, why not just give the whole one why cut it? So yes this is it.

Hello, @lala1-ann-11 !!! (Thanks for the second ask)

1. When Azula is a child, she overhears her father and mother arguing one night. The child, only about 4 or 5, had gone to her parents for a bedtime story and instead hears them talking about how much of a monster she is and Ozai flagrantly calling her a weapon. Azula’s love and care for her parents is broken then and she runs off back to her room. That’s also the day she decides to put up a performance for her parents. She pretends to like being a princess, to like galas and dinners and enjoy when Mai and Ty Lee come over. That’s not to say she hates them or her brother but she prefers to be alone. During one of her birthdays, Zuko’s gift was a whole day to herself (best gift ever). On top of this, Azula starts training in every skill known to man. Her life is spent either training or keeping up the act. For years and years, her parents know her as a mischievous, firebending prodigy princess which could not be further from her true personality. Only Mai and Ty Lee really know Azula (and Zuko but he doesn’t know the extent of how much she trained just that she prefers to be alone and is pretty distant). Mai, surprising no one, is the perfect friend to Azula. They sometimes just sit in the same room, silently doing other activities. Ursa says it’s a little weird but they’re the best play dates as far as Azula’s concerned.

2. When Ozai tries to leave without her, Azula finally lashes out. She is very distant from him here, not really being his perfect puppet, but she’s still human and still angry that he would abandon her after she did everything for him. Ozai believes she wants to challenge him to an Agni Kai…that’s not exactly Azula’s plan. (*Fire Sages watching Azula and Ozai fly around with Ozai running away from Azula throwing blue fire and lightning at him* Fire Sage: Should we stop this or…. Fire Sage: You want to be the one to try and get the Princess to stop? Fire Sage: Nevermind. Ozai: Azula! What has gotten into you!?! Azula: DIE!!!) Azula chases him around until he tires himself out before she beats the stuffing out of him. With him defeated, Azula makes her way to the palace where Zuko and Katara are. She just throws Ozai at them (barely conscious) and says she’s going to her room and to get her when the others arrive.

3. Everyone returns and, obviously, they want to know what happened and what this means. Did Azula betray Ozai? Is she on their side? Did she just do it to get power? What’s going on? Azula lets them tell her questions at them before saying that she did it because Ozai pissed her off and she wanted him quiet. Iroh doesn’t believe her. He argues that she did what she did because she wanted power and so she had to be stopped. Azula rolls her eyes at his accusations and tries to once again say she doesn’t want power or the crown. Iroh, again, doesn’t believe her and attacks her. Easily, Azula evades his attempts to capture her and fights back. Iroh is more of a challenge for Azula because he does know more moves than her (experience and real world influence does beat her learning from books). However, she’s a lot smaller than him and faster. It takes her longer than her fight with Ozai but she defeats Iroh all the same. (Azula: For the third time, I don’t want the crown. Zuzu can have it. I just want to be left alone. The Gaang:….Mai:….Ty Lee:…Mai, internally: That’s hot). When Azula gets ready leave the palace two weeks later, Mai decides to go with her. (Azula: I like to be alone. Mai: Me too. Azula: I’m not going to be very affectionate or warm or want to go out every day- Mai: You’ve convinced me. Azula: And I’m going to want to stay inside and not really cuddle or- Mai: Already planning what I need to bring).

4. Azula and Mai head to the Earth Kingdom to start. The two have a feeling they aren’t welcome in Omashu or Ba Sing Se so they decide to go from Earth Kingdom town to town. Azula spends the time observing earthbenders and learning more about firebending, waterbending and airbending and how she can use different moves in her own style. Mai takes the time to perfect her skills and does chat with the locals to get to know more. In terms of Maizula, they start to become a bit closer and closer as time goes on. Azula doesn’t change completely but she does change her opinion on cuddling. (Mai: Azula, I thought you wanted to spend the morning alone. Azula, nuzzling into Mai’s neck: No. Stay and sleep. Mai: What happened to no cuddles? Azula: 🥺 Mai: You’re an idiot)

5. Azula and Mai eventually return to the palace ten years later (Azula is 24, Mai is 26). They spend the week in the palace, together, officially declaring that they got married a couple years ago. Zuko holds a gala for them (which they don’t have to go to) and congratulates them on their wedding and marriage. Azula and Mai are upstairs and Mai goes to Azula and asks if she wants to talk to Ozai. Azula has really no clue what she would say but she does believe that she should go down there. She and Mai head down to the dungeon where Azula gets the chance to confront Ozai and finally tell him how much he attempted to ruin her life. (Azula: But I am so much better off now than I ever was with you. Ozai: You’re not princess, you’re not ruling- Azula: I’m happy. I have a wife who loves me and respects me and doesn’t try to change me. Goodbye, Ozai. This will be the last time I speak to you. Ozai: Azula! AZULA! Do not walk away from me! Get back here, you little brat! *Mai sends a knife that pins Ozai to the wall* Mai: Never insult my wife again)

[smolandweirdwriter]

ok so I’ve been posting a lot about s/jm a lot but shutup I have a lot of angry feelings rn bc she was such a big inspiration for me during the time i began writing the book im currently editing and i’m trying to purge myself of her shitty writing by reminding myself why i hate it so i don’t inadvertently adopt her techniques and characters

but Author Lady really went

“you know what a strong female character is? Someone who can use knives and fight and is Royalty and Special”

like a man writing female characters

im sorry it reeks of misogyny

this isn’t to say that I think female characters being made royal is bad! Hell no. But you need her to have a right to deserve the throne, just like a male character

A//elin has a birthright to the throne, but that’s all she has. She hasn’t been in Terr//asen in TEN YEARS. She’s sworn off killing people from her country during her time as an assassin, but other than that… Does she know her own people beyond her cousin, Elide, and the lords (ie Darrow and co)? No. Does she even know her people? No. So… tell me again. Why does the girl who showed up and suddenly decided she wanted to fight for her country deserve its throne? Once she is on that throne, does she have plans for taxes? For borders and the peasants who were stripped of EVERYTHING by Ad/arlan? She never once considers this. Her blood money will win her the war, but what of the aftermath? She is the queen of an impoverished country who has spent years in the lap of luxury, and she has no plan for her people beyond a self-glorified ideal of “freeing them”.

Now let’s examine Fey//re: she was an impoverished human girl who was made immortal and given magical powers. Why does having this power make her worthy of being a ruler? I’m sorry, but Tam//lin was right. He was wrong to cast her aside, fine, and wrong to lock her up, yes, but he was right: she is illiterate and knows nothing of governing. But it’s also Fey//re’s own fault. She asked him ONCE about being a high lady, and didn’t press him when he said there are none. She could have, but didn’t. She could’ve told him she wanted to be included in more meetings, could’ve pushed back. For all that she scorned Lucien for not helping her fight T//amlin’s restraints, she never really tried either. She has never been a ruler of anything, not even her own family. Why does she deserve a crown now? Because she can hunt and has lots of magic? Because Rh/ysand says so? Not. Good. Enough. She doesn’t care about the people. She doesn’t have any agency. She doesn’t have any ideas for improvement for the night court. She was better off in the spring court where she could have changed things like the Tithe, or even waited to see if that system worked and if it didn’t, PROPOSE A NEW ONE, don’t just try to undermine it.

I’m so glad I realized how shitty author lady’s books are before I completely molded my writing after hers

[archiveikemen]

'Black Wedding' Story Event: Chapter 1

Roger's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

Things were getting busy at the laboratory in the basement of Crown’s castle.

Jude: Be more careful, you quack.

Roger: Then avoid knives if you don't want to receive medical attention from a quack, you sinister looking man.

Jude: What!?

Ellis: I think the way Jude gets a knife wound every three days is very bad.

Roger: Right? You should say that to him more, Ellis.

Jude: Ellis, don't you forget who you’re working for.

Roger: Hm? Ellis, you’re injured too. You’re after Jude.

Ellis: Sorry. Thanks, Roger.

Liam: Roger, you in?

Roger: What is it this time?

Liam: Sorry for telling you this when you’re so busy. Ahaha, I got myself hurt.

Liam smiled while blood dripped from his arm.

Roger: Hey, Kate. Stop the bleeding on that stupid cat’s arm with the clean cloth over there. Raise the wound—

Kate: Above the heart, yes?

Roger: Correct.

(Hang on, why am I acting as his assistant?)

However, hanging around Roger was beneficial to me because he was conducting research on curses.

Moreover, I noticed recently that I had gotten used to assisting him with his work.

— But to be very honest, from the bottom of my heart, I wasn’t too fond of being treated like a dog.

???: Roger, are you here?

Roger: Darn it, who is it now?

Someone unexpected had come to the basement—

William: Hm?

...

Roger: You’re not injured, so the reason why you were looking for me must've been for a mission.

Roger: You almost never end up in the infirmary due to an injury, so it surprised me to see you there.

Kate: I was surprised too. I almost couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you.

William: Fufu, I’ll be sure to meet your expectations and lose an arm before heading to the infirmary next time.

(If there’s anyone who can cut William’s arm off, I’d love to bear witness to that.)

Roger: — Anyway, what’s the mission about?

William mentioned that he had something he wanted to discuss with Roger and I.

William: Recently, there has been a certain rumour spreading around amongst couples in London.

William: Rumour has it that if a couple has their wedding ceremony with an organisation by the name of “Amour”, their love would last forever.

William: However, the couples who visited that organisation never returned. Not just one couple, but a few of them.

When they heard about it, William and Victor conducted an investigation into the matter.

They found out that a man who identified himself as the “Leader” of the organisation was behind those disappearances.

It seemed that he killed the couples, and stole the money that they had saved to start their new life together.

Roger: If that much has already been made known, then why hasn’t he been punished?

(Roger is right, there's no way William and Victor would let that man get away with his deeds.)

William: Ah, that man only shows himself during the wedding ceremony.

(During the wedding ceremony? That means…)

Kate: You want Roger and I to infiltrate the organisation, disguised as an engaged couple.

Kate: And lure that “Leader” out?

William: Correct. After that, it will be up to you to decide how you want to punish him.

Roger: I get what the mission is about, but why me? There are other guys suitable for the role.

Roger: … There’s so many people coming to me injured that I even need Kate to assist me.

William: Her Majesty said that your ears with extraordinary hearing abilities will be useful for the mission.

William: Also…

William: I have a message for you from the Queen’s aide. “The reward for this mission is a Legend Beer”.

Roger: Hey, hey, really…?

(The look in Roger’s eyes changed immediately!?)

Kate: Legend Beer?

Roger: It’s a very rare type of beer produced in Germany, and I’ve always wanted to try it.

Roger: Then it’s settled. Will you marry me, young lady?

Kate: What…!

Roger: If you’re willing, then there's one thing we need to do. Come with me.

Kate: W-Wait!?

While I was still puzzled, Roger dragged me to the common room.

If we were to fail to convince the organisation that we were an engaged couple, we would not be allowed to enter the premises, let alone have our wedding.

In order to avoid such an outcome, it was suggested to us that we come up with a plan on how we were going to prove that we were a real couple.

(... I feel like I’ve just lost to some beer, but I still have to do the mission anyway. I’ll do my best.)

Roger: My current profession won’t do, so I’ll be posing as a boxer and you’ll be a… postwoman.

Kate: I understand that my role is a postwoman because that’s what I worked as before, but why are you a boxer…?

Roger: Hm? Oh, I haven't told you? Boxing is a hobby of mine.

Kate: I didn't know that.

I thought that Roger having boxing as a hobby finally explained his muscular body.

(Seriously, the more things I know about him, the more gaps appear.)

Roger: And that’s for our professions. Lastly, we’ll have to agree on how we met each other. Any ideas?

Kate: Uh… how about I got into some trouble while doing my deliveries, you saved me, and so we started dating?

Roger: Oh, so you’re into that sort of thing?

Kate: That’s not true!

Roger: Okay, okay. Let’s go with your idea.

Roger: What else is there… we might be asked about the things we like about each other.

Roger: Crying is one of your hobbies—

Kate: Wrong!

(I need to correct him or he’ll misunderstand.)

Kate: Watching plays is one of my hobbies. I also enjoy eating delicious food.

Roger: Plays, huh. Your hobby is the complete opposite of mine.

Kate: Really?

Roger: Yeah, I’m quite unfamiliar with the arts and anything related to them. It's just not my thing.

(I thought that I already knew a lot about Roger, but it looks like there are still things I don't know.)

Roger: Anyway, we should talk about what we like about each other.

Roger: Say, young lady, what do you like about me?

Kate: Um…

Roger: Hm?

Seated in front of me, Roger locked his eyes on me as if he were testing me.

His gaze felt strangely alluring, making it hard for me to respond immediately.

Roger: Oops, since you can’t answer that question, I’ll just have to let you know—

Kate: L-Let me know?

Roger: I’d love to bed you right now, but we that would lead to both of us not getting enough sleep in preparation for tomorrow's mission.

Kate: B-Bed me…?

Roger: Pfft, hahaha! Hey, you won’t look anything like my fiancée if you get all upset because of that, young lady.

Roger: Come on, you can just say what you think my strengths are.

Roger laughed in satisfaction, seemingly enjoying seeing my frustration.

(Ugh… I’m always being led on by Roger.)

It felt frustrating to have him pushing me around, so I started thinking about the traits Roger would possibly look for in a potential partner.

Kate: You would like a woman who… has a mind of her own, and looks good when she cries… I guess?

Roger: Heh, you know me so well. I’m impressed.

Roger: Alright, we’ll definitely get through this smoothly. Let’s work well together tomorrow, yeah?

…

— The next day, we arrived at “Amour” and were greeted by several believers dressed fully in white.

Believer: Welcome to Amour. From this moment on, you will be put through a series of tests for us to determine whether you are truly in love with each other.

Believer: Only couples who are truly in love will be allowed to get married and meet our Leader.

(Everything will be fine, as long as we go according to what we discussed yesterday. Alright, let's do this!)

[hookaroo]

Laden of the Torn (25 of 25)

AO3 link Catch up on tumblr: One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty-One Twenty-Two Twenty-Three Twenty-Four Tagging @priscilla9993 @cocohook38 @killian-whump <3

A few weeks later…

Killian could now guess almost exactly when the pain would start, as determined by how long he’d been away from Alice. A fortnight allowed him to get within sight of the blue spires as the curse’s grip slowly tightened around his heart. One month, and he could stand at the tower’s base and gaze upward longingly with only mild discomfort. Six weeks, and he could make half the climb before the knives commenced their assault. Before now, he hadn’t had the self-discipline to test anything longer.

This time, as he climbed in the darkness of near-dawn, his still-healing hand threatened to give out before his heart even felt the first tentative prick of a blade. But his determination drove him higher, and yearning anticipation drowned out all physical concerns.

Alice knew better than to watch him climb. Her proximity as he reached the high window would put him in danger of falling, or even being flung outwards into space as he’d done in her premonitory nightmare before he’d even been cursed. So she waited against the far wall, anxious eyes watching for his first appearance, which always propelled her into an excited bounce--the only way to contain the longing energy that would otherwise have launched her forward into an ill-advised attempt at a hug.

Today was no different, and as Killian pulled himself up to catch his first glimpse of his impatiently waiting daughter, Alice let out a little squeal of relieved delight. Panting, Killian leaned against the wall to catch his breath, flashing her a bright smile as he fumbled for Mandible’s potion in the satchel slung over his shoulder. Alice grinned back with a wave, still bouncing on the balls of her feet and watching apprehensively as one decorative ceremonial cloth fluttered to the floor, followed by a second animal-skin wrapping. He could see tears glistening on her face, and the lump constricting his own throat made choking down the potion absurdly difficult.

Almost immediately, the stabbings slowed, the knives retreated, and Killian’s rib cage could expand freely as he drew a huge, satisfying lungful of air. He downed the last mouthful of tangy liquid, carefully replaced the stopper--he planned to fill the vial with water several times to be sure he extracted every last second of its offered reprieve--and then took a single eager step forward. Alice took that as her cue and was across the room and in his arms before he had even completed a second step.

“Alice…” Killian breathed, squeezing her tight as he’d done so often in his dreams.

“Papa!” cried Alice in almost the same instant, and they both laughed and sobbed and held each other as if nothing would ever drive them apart again.

Killian soaked in every last detail of that hug: the way she felt in his arms, her warmth and surprising strength as she squeezed him back, the sound of her emotional whimpers of laughter as she was overwhelmed by the same heart-wrenching delight that also coursed through his veins. The flowery scent of her hair. The unexpected height of her head against his shoulder. He closed his eyes and committed it all to memory.

“Papa…” whispered Alice brokenly.

“Yes, Starfish?” Killian placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“I… I’m not sure I can let go.”

A tear slipped down his cheek and disappeared into her shining crown of gold. “Nor am I, love. I’ve missed you… more than words can tell.”

Alice sniffed, then tilted her head back to look up at him. She gave him a watery smile, saying,

“Let’s pretend… let’s pretend tomorrow doesn’t exist. It will always be today, forever and ever. Would… that be all right?”

Choking back a sob, Killian nodded. “Of course.”

He wanted to expand upon that, to offer reassurance or somehow lend credence to the fantasy, but found he could not speak as frustration and grief boiled over. A single day was not nearly enough, and it was so terribly unfair that they had to spend their limited time together dreading the unfeeling approach of sunset. With a trembling hand, he reached up and began to stroke Alice’s hair, wrestling back all of the negativity, refusing to let it spoil this one precious day.

“I can’t believe how tall you’ve gotten!” he exclaimed, tone only slightly crazed. “Slow it down, would you? I can’t have you looking down on me one day and pointing out every new silver hair that crops up.”

Alice laughed shyly, finally and reluctantly pulling away, but entwining her fingers with his and gripping tightly. She looked down at herself, then gave an innocent shrug. “Sorry, Papa; I’ve decided to become a giant when I grow up. You’ll just have to make do.”

Killian grinned at her, sincere and encouraging. “Not to worry, Starfish; I’ll be proud of you, whatever you become.”

Alice wiped her face with her sleeve, looked him up and down, and frowned slightly. “Have you been eating properly? You look dreadfully skinny.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oi, cheeky, would you rather I have a gut full of whale blubber? It would be very hard to climb the rigging of the Jolly Roger hauling that lot around.”

Alice’s laughter still contained a hint of concern, and Killian sighed. Perceptive, his daughter.

“I’m all right love; I give you my word. I had a… minor illness not long ago, but as you can see, I’m good as new now.” He glanced around the only surroundings she’d ever known, taking in the condition of her prison and noting with love the obvious attempts she’d made to make the place presentable for him. “And what about you? Not up late reading every night, I hope?”

“Papa!” Alice rolled her eyes at him. He waited for a proper reply, mock sternness completely undermined by the loving grin on his lips. Giggling, she relented. “I’ve been good, I promise. You would be proud.”

Killian couldn’t resist pulling her into another embrace. “I am, love. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders. Can’t fathom where it came from, considering what a buffoon you have for a father.”

“Oh, Papa…”

He had meant it as a bit of lighthearted self-deprecation--a reference to his recent scrape with Blackbeard and his monkeys, perhaps--but suddenly, the weight of his true misdeeds pressed down upon him with full force. Gently, he extricated himself and stepped back so he could look her straight in her eyes. Using his hook to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, he choked out,

“Can you ever forgive me, Alice?”

She looked completely mystified, and when it took him a moment to continue past his emotions, she asked,

“Forgive you? For what?”

He looked at the floor, recalling with painful clarity the instant the curse had been revealed. “The witch was right. It’s entirely my fault my heart was poisoned. I wasn’t thinking about anything but my own worthless, stubborn pride. I neglected my responsibility to you. I even had a whole night to consider the fact that I was risking my death for nothing more than my bloody reputation, and I still chose to be reckless and selfish. I’m so sorry, love. I’m only cursed because I’m a damn fool, and I’ve forced you to share in the consequences.”

There were tear stains on Alice’s face when he managed to meet her eyes again, but she squeezed his hand, then surged forward and wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“It’s okay, Papa. I forgive you.”

Still wracked by shame, Killian cradled her head against his heart. “You do?”

“Everyone makes mistakes,” she reminded him simply, and he knew he would never forget the complex mix of relief, guilt, pride, and overwhelming love that filled him from head to toe at her quiet statement. It did not completely unburden his heart; nothing ever would until he found a way to permanently break the curse. But a noticeable weight did lift with Alice’s sincere offering of grace.

“I love you,” she said, and he only just managed to choke out,

“I love you too, Alice.” He cleared his throat and struggled to gather his composure. “Thank you for being so understanding. I give you my solemn vow that you are my entire focus, from now on. I won’t stop until I free you, or cure this heart for good.”

“I know.” Alice managed to look hopeful then, despite the number of months that had already passed with no progress on either count. She took her father by the hand again and pulled him farther into the room than he’d dared venture since his magical banishment.

“How about a game before breakfast?” she suggested as she led him to the chess board, which had already been neatly arranged, minus two meaningful missing pieces. She produced her white knight from a pocket in her apron; Killian did likewise with his black rook. As two equally faded pieces joined their more vibrant counterparts, Killian said,

“I would like nothing more, Starfish. But I must warn you, I may be a bit out of practice.”

They both took their accustomed places. Alice scoffed teasingly. “That’s only an excuse for when you inevitably lose.”

“Is that so? Well, we’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

Alice giggled, considered him for a moment, then made her first move. And for just that single moment, tomorrow did, indeed, cease to exist.

[secondgenerationnerd]

Pretty dope! How about the best archer Lian next 🏹

Ah yes the OG baby doll

Lian is the definition of “Looks like she could kill you, would kill you” to about 80% of everyone in the world. But if you’re apart of that 20%? She is the most loyal, kind hearted, funny person you will ever meet….but she also guards her heart fiercely.

Shes naturally gravitated to more Punk-grunge looks, honestly thanks to her fathers influence.

Even though it comes off more as anger as she ages, every time her mom has to leave, it breaks a part of Lian’s soul. She logically understands it, but sometimes she just really really needs her mom

She sees way more than people realize. Like most think she’s just a hot headed archer, who charges head first into a situation, but she really does watch people. She learned to trust actions, not words.

While she didn’t know about her death at nearly four years old, she does know she was kidnapped at 2 by human traffickers. She has a brand mark on the middle of her back that Jai runs his fingers over when they’re talking

Music is her escape. When her parents fought. When other legacy heroes make snide remarks about her mom, her dad, anything. When the world just felt wrong and she needed to be away from it for a while

Someone once made a comment that “No druggie ever really recovers. They’re all talk until the first minor inconvenience, then the needle—“ they didn’t get to finish. She broke their nose.

After her parents’ deaths, she does spiral into alcoholism. Whiskey is her drink of choice, because the burn is the only thing that keeps her warm. When she does start her recovery, she cuts her hair into a shaggy pixie cut and dyes it blue. So she doesn’t look like her mother as much

When all the families are together, they’ll ask her to play her guitar for them. One of her favorites is an addition to “Poet, Solider, King”, which she sing towards Mar’i.

“There will come a maiden, who is destined for a crown….she will rule as she was born, oh lay, oh lay, oh lord…oh lay, oh lay, oh lay, oh lord…she will rule as she was born, oh lay, oh lay, oh…”(https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPRcSAfBu/ to hear it)

She has one of those really gravelly voices, like raw and rough and so so beautiful to listen to

Her and Milagro have absolutely made out before they were dating Colin or Jai. I will not answer any questions at this time 😂

You know how parents will be like “I am raising a young lady?” Roy tells them “I’m raising a heathen and I couldn’t be prouder.”

Her mom gave her some throwing knives that she refuses to use. They’re kept sharpened and clean, but unused

If you touched her while she was pregnant, she would smack you. Jai was the only exception

Colin is her pseudo brother. All the omega parents kinda adopted him, but Roy and Lian made him family

She joins in the dnd campaigns. Her first one she had to get through a door (and was a hard naturally)…..she rolled to seduce a door and got a Nat 20. Jai, again the DM, looked utterly defeated

She drives an old Toyota Corolla, that definitely hasn’t had anything happen in the back seat, no siree

If she calls anyone else her best friend, Jai is immediately insulted. Even after they’re married with three kids

When she performs….it’s like she’s free. Nothing in the world matters except that moment. And she can command a crowd like a god

She has nicknames for every one of her teammates, all lovingly teasing.

Has openly said Jai is the only thing keeping her from being a lesbian

[xiakha]

FFXIVWrite 2024 Prompt #3 - Tempest

Thunder rolled over the House of the Fierce.

Were she not shinobi, it would be unlikely Yugiri’s exit would have been as dramatic as it was. There was a moment of anguish, and she actually raised her voice to Gosetsu, and then nothing, not even an afterimage.

Were it not for her own shinobi training, Xiao would likely have missed the direction Yugiri vanished to, as Lyse and Alisaie did. She grit her teeth.

She turned back to Gosetsu, who purposefully looked away from where he figured Yugiri had slunk off too. His kindly smile was even more of a poor mask for pain than it usually was as his expression turned stony, “...It is for her to think on our master’s words and recognize the futility of her course. Or at least, those are my thoughts upon the matter.”

Gosetsu’s eyes flitted over to meet Xiao’s, her expression had hardened as well, but in a different way, for different reasons, “You may think differently. Should you be so determined to give chase, I will not bar your path.”

Xiao nodded and casually palmed the paired knives at her hips.

“Zenos will fall, but it will not be to a desperate knife in the dark. We will need proper planning and ample preparation. She has neither.”

Xiao also quietly made her leave as Lyse and Alisaie started shouting at anyone that would listen.

The rain started sporadically enough that they masked Xiao’s approach upon Yugiri’s position. If she was surprised that her fellow shinobi dropped down beside her, she did not show it.

“Did Gosetsu send you to stop me?”

“Would sendin’ me t’ stop ye actually stop ye?”

“I am not in the mood for riddles.”

“Wasn’t the plan, no.”

“...Then you came of your own free will?”

Yugiri sighed, “I should be surprised if you agreed with my chosen course, no one else did. But it’s not as fanciful as it seems.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially, “Scant moments ago, I received the crown prince’s itinerary from one of our spies in the castle. ‘Twould seem that Zenos has no desire to remain in Doma any longer than necessary. His impatience is to our advantage. He arrived at the castle without warning and announced that he wished to inspect the Moon Gates this very eve. The whole castle is in a state of upheaval, but even with Yotsuyu’s pleading, he will not be delayed. He declined a full escort, only traveling with a scant honor guard.”

The shinobi pulled at the front of Xiao’s shozoku, “The kami could not have blessed us with more auspicious circumstances. I will kill him, Xiao. I will.”

Xiao put a hand on Yugiri’s, her grip iron, “Rather not come t’ blows wit’ ye, but the first knife t’ Zenos’s throat’ll be mine.”

Yugiri’s eyes widened even as Xiao’s narrowed, “The first strike on Zenos proper is yours to take, but are you… are you sure?” She nearly faltered, perhaps seeing her own stubborn foolishness reflected in Xiao, but then shook her head and steeled her resolve, “Thank you. Thank you. I… I cannot well express what this means to me.” She released her grip on Xiao’s clothing and gestured, “We have much to discuss, but we can do so on the way. We shall intercept the party at Yuzuka Manor. Let us be off!”

If anyone saw two shadows flit away, surely it was simply a trick of the lightning.

Zenos was bored. 

Oh so bored. He would have fallen asleep on his feet were he not trying to get all of this over with as quickly as possible. He could feel the ennui eating at his soul. It sat upon his chest, and perhaps, were it just a little bit more real, he would have simply stopped struggling against it so that it could force the breath from his body for good. Alas, he could not simply will himself to die of suffocation to end his suffering. He wondered if staring up into the storm would avail him, perhaps he could drown if he allowed enough rain to drip down his throat. Ah, were it not for his helmet.

The nervous imbecile leading the way was prattling on like he were some tour guide for some of the more slack-jawed Yaes or Wirs Galvus. His words had all the effect on Zenos that they would have on a particularly sharp and deadly blade. Instead, Zenos indulged in his internal monologue. The ruins around him were no more cleaned up now than they had been almost five years prior, when he had been tasked with putting down the insurrection. Less a province than a graveyard, the putrid husk of this broken nation was utterly devoid of proper sport. 

He sighed out loud, much to the disconcertment of the Pilius Prior. Varis of course demanded that his son fulfill his duties as heir apparent to the Imperial Throne. So here Zenos was, in fallow fields that he had labored so long to sow seeds of hatred and fear. Where was the harvest? Where were the savage beasts baying for blood?

There was unusual movement behind him, but he thought little of it, perhaps the fools behind him slipped up in the rain. Surely it were anything, it would be little more than hollow-eyed prey striking from the dark.

In one fluid motion he drew his blade and parried the shinobi’s attack, crossing blades just ilms away from his neck.

A flick of the wrist and the shinobi bounced back, another attack in his blindspot, perhaps the first was just a feint? Another would-be killing blow had it not been for Zenos’s prowess. 

The soldiers behind him lay bleeding in the dirt, throats slit and silently eased onto the ground to gurgle to their deaths. The idiot leading the party started screaming, and Yotsuyu started shouting, possibly orders. 

Truth be told, he was looking to provoke something by setting out as close to alone as he could. How how he desired to issue an official challenge, to give the Domans a week to plan and then reap the harvest, but that would never be allowed now that he was heir apparent. So this was as close as he could get to tilting his head to offer his neck, bait to see how desperate for his blood Doma was. All of this was just so he could feel something.

He felt nothing. An improvement over the hollowing ennui, but there was no joy in this hunt.

“How weak. Is this the sum of your hate?”

The second shinobi was unmasked, her eyes filled with fury, her teeth grit with determination, but it was far from the look of the beast that he desired to face. 

“This is but the beginning! For Lord Kaien! For Doma!” 

Kaien’s retainers? Really? And there were only two that let vengeance and rage fester for so long that they would strike at him? Zenos had tempered his expectations, but he was still disappointed by the showing. What did he have to do to get people that could properly hate him, to properly threaten him?

The first shinobi, a Miqo’te with an eyepatch, threw a projectile at Zenos, which he deflected without turning. A misdirection. The projectile exploded into smoke and brilliant light, surely blinding a lesser swordsman, if but for a moment. But Zenos was no lesser swordsman. The follow-up strike still came at him, a blow he let glance off his armor. This one gave him some pause at least, he was unaware there were Keepers of the Moon so far east, and that one would be trained in the arts of the shinobi at that.

There was something about her…

Ignoring his assailants, Zenos looked at Yotsuyu, doing her best to fuse her back to the Manor’s outer wall, her umbrella forgotten, her kimono soaked, “Mayhap I shall test this new blade of yours. Let us hope it is to my liking, lest your misfortunes compound.”

The two attacked again, the Au Ra leapt while the Miqo’te ducked, attempting to hit different gaps in his armor, attempting to divide his attention. If he had given either attack a bit more attention the other would be in his blindspot. Clever, very technical. But one was easily parried and the other effortlessly dodged.

He sheathed his kanata and stepped back to address both of his would-be foes, “Then again, I am loath to expend such effort on the unworthy. Come— earn the honor.”

The clash of steel on steel was nearly drowned out by the pummel of the rain and the howl of the wind.

Yotsuyu had long fallen silent in horror, she had no illusions about the quality of her guard, but that the two shinobi would drop them almost as an afterthought before refocusing their attentions on Zenos… Well it was more the reason to hide within the walls of the castle. 

But Lord Zenos was hardly fazed, he simply strode through the flurry of expert bladework and ninjutsu, not to mention the driving rain and whipping winds, as if it were a well choreographed dance. 

And perhaps in part it was. Though Yotsuyu was no warrior, she had been forced to learn how to dance, and she could at least parse some of the steps. The shinobi were at two disadvantages. First, Zenos’s size and reach far surpassed that of either relatively diminutive figure. Several of the techniques that they were able to use on the soldiers would find no purchase or were simply impossible on as tall and as armored a figure as the Garlean. Second, they had to coordinate to avoid hitting one another, the Au Ra more than the Miqo’te, and when one had an opportune angle on Zenos, often it meant that the other had to pull back. Were but one of the two disadvantages present, perhaps the crown prince would be lifeless on the ground, but both together was enough to consistently give him an edge over his opponents.

And then, when Zenos went on the offensive, the two broke off the engagement completely. Neither could withstand the brunt of Zenos’s attacks directly in their lightly armored states. If he were even a bit threatened, it was child’s play for Zenos to create the breathing room he needed and reset the fight. Yotsuyu wondered what his expression was under the grimace of his helmet. Was he entertained, or was this just busy work? 

Then, through one of Zenos’s attacks, the Miqo’te landed a blow even as she leapt backwards. One of her knives snapped, its blade wedged into Zenos’s side. Whether it actually wounded the crown prince or just caught in his armor, it was difficult to tell, and certainly Zenos did not react as if he had been stabbed. Yotsuyu wasn’t sure if Zenos would react to being stabbed, let alone how. 

“Well done, beast. You have earned the right to look upon Ame-no-Habakiri.”

Zenos drew the katana with a burst of crimson. The concussive force pushed back the elements, temporarily creating a sphere of violent calm around the Garlean with no rain, no wind, only death. It knocked both shinobi flying, and had Yotsuyu not braced herself against the wall, she too would have been bowled over, even at this distance.

Yotsuyu heard herself exclaim hoarsely in horror, “What… what is this…? Kami forfend…”

Both shinobi struggled to rise again, the Au Ra outright collapsing. 

But the Miqo’te did something Yotsuyu had never seen before. Even as she struggled to stay standing, the violet Miqo’te roared bestially and tore off her armor. An axe manifested out of the aether itself into her outstretched hand, and her body was sheathed in an orange-red aura of deadly intent. For all the toying that Zenos had done, for all of the violence inflicted and near death exchanges, this was different. The Miqo’te’s eyes burned red, even the one underneath her eyepatch. This was unbridled rage, with nothing held back for self preservation.

Zenos landed a wicked blow squarely upon the Miqo’te, powerful enough to splinter one of the trees behind her. And yet she kept coming, landing solid hits on Zenos as well, forceful enough to push Zenos back, to lift him ilms off the ground as he parried.

But it was far from just animalistic desperation, Yotsuyu could see how the Miqo’te attempted to drive the snapped blade further into Zenos’s armor with her attacks. For the first time in the entire encounter, Zenos was actually on the backfoot. He leapt back, sheathed that dread blade once more, and flash-stepped forward for another blast of Concentrativity. The Miqo’te was once more knocked flying, but aetheric chains lashed her to Zenos. Even as she slammed into the ground, she remained standing. She pulled herself to Zenos with that chain, her back muscles heaving, and drove her axe into the gap between Zenos’s oversized pauldron and his helmet. 

On anyone else, it would have easily been a killing blow. On anyone else, it might have outright beheaded, if not rent in two.

But it wasn’t anyone else. It was Zenos. 

As the Miqo’te collapsed, Zenos chucked with recollection. “Ahhh… I remember you. Ala Mhigo. The champion of the savages. Did I strike down your lover, now that I recall?”

He casually removed the axe and rolled his neck as if he had merely developed a crick, “Oh… how right I was to spare your life. How delightfully bestial.”

He sheathed Ame-no-Habakiri and removed his helmet. Yotsuyu gasped quietly in horror as the crown prince contorted his lips into an expression she had never seen before on his face. 

He smiled.

Zenos kneeled down and lifted the Miqo’te’s body by the nape, forcing her to meet eyes, “Hear me, hero. Endure. Survive. Live. For the rush of blood, for the time between the seconds— live. For the sole pleasure left to me in this empty, ephemeral world— I need you to live!”

He then set the Miqo’te back down into the mud.

Zenos looked up to the skies, the storm was passing. His heart, he could feel his heart pounding, his breathing actually struggled to keep up. What was this electricity that seemed to crackle through his veins? And his body, his body ached. He was battered, possibly bruised, possibly bleeding from his side. For a moment, for a fleeting, but very real moment, he thought the Miqo’te might kill him. So much he had read about fearing for one’s life, the brilliant sharpness in vision that set in when genuinely struggling against equals, when genuinely fighting to the death. Perhaps this was actually an opponent to overcome, to strive to defeat. He was giddy. He was swimming in emotions that he had hardly felt before. And this mere taste was just a sampling, a brew that had not finished refinement, more time would be necessary, more honing. 

Oh how he longed for another taste! To drink from the lifeblood of his new, most delectable foe! But he had to wait. He had to deny himself until the right moment.

Zenos rose and turned to leave. He did still have a Moon Gate or two to inspect. He ignored the arrow that landed at his feet, and the shouting of someone or other behind him. He heard Yotsuyu coughing and shouting somewhere in the distance but running after him.

None of it mattered. He finally had something to look forward to.

Back at Namai, Yugiri and Xiao were carefully cleaned and stitched up before being unceremoniously but gently dumped into the baths. Each was still alive and nursing no permanent injuries because the other was there, but neither would have stayed so long in the fight were it not for the other.

In brighter news, their recklessness had rallied the people of Namai, and though they did not so much charge into the storm as warily approach it, they covered the retreat as Imperial reinforcements came sniffing around as the moon broke through the departing clouds.

Most importantly, it was proof indeed that Zenos was no invincible, indomitable foe. His armor was not impregnable. His offense was not insurmountable. No matter how slim, the Domans had a chance. None perhaps had the same ferocity that Xiao unleashed, but if they all shared a little of that ferocity, that beast within, perhaps Doman liberation was possible.

[closingwaters]

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @mortemoppetere @closingwaters

SUMMARY: Teagan convinces Emilio to go to the ren faire with her, and the two end up having a great time!

WARNINGS: None!

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining overhead, fae from all over town had gathered, and after much convincing on her part, Teagan had gotten Emilio to not only attend, but dress up too! It also helped that there was an abundance of alcohol to consume at the event, which she offered to pay for as long as he played along. As grumpy as the slayer was, he sure knew how to have fun when it counted. Teagan even considered surprising him with a battleaxe. One crafted by the most magnificent hands, with the most ferocious material. She smiled at the thought, yanking Emilio to her to follow through a small crowd.

“You look like an absolute beaut in that crown, mun. Could almost kiss ya!” She bounced her brows, “Almost.” With a wink, Teagan led the two to a booth filled with usable weapons and targets, figuring it would be best to start Emilio off with something he could enjoy before moving on to things he wouldn’t normally consider. “Think you can beat me in a battle of precision?” She slapped down a few precious looking rocks and beetles, along with a few actual dollars. The leshy took the payment happily, making the nymph’s smile grow. 

“Looks like we both get five tries. Try not to be a sore loser when I win.” Teagan giggled, excitement growing. It’d been too long since she’d been to an affair as large the faire, and she was full of pride that fae had put it together. All fae were free to be in their true forms while surrounding themself with kin and enjoying the spoils of so many trades. If it had been humans, she would’ve still been unglamoured, but it would’ve most definitely been half the fun.

“You ready?”

This wasn’t something Emilio had ever really seen himself doing. Large gatherings filled with big crowds weren’t really places where he tended to feel comfortable, and dressing up in strange clothes that sat a little too heavy on his skin made him feel a little uneasy. He didn’t feel as if he’d be ready to jump into action if he needed to, though he thought the crown on his head would probably make a decent projectile. He still wasn’t even sure how Teagan had convinced him, really; there had been the promise of alcohol, he knew, which he was looking forward to. Maybe part of him still knew that he owed her for what she’d done for him with his uncle. That wasn’t the kind of debt you could ever really repay, after all.

“Ay, don’t get handsy,” he replied with a roll of his eyes that was closer to fond than irritated. Curiosity flickered across his features at the idea of a precision battle, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way that was almost reminiscent of Perro’s reaction to the word treat. “They have that here?” Maybe this place wasn’t as bad as he’d originally feared it would be.

Allowing her to pull him off to a table, Emilio inspected the setup. Knives, hatchets, and other throwable blades lined the walls of the booth, with targets set up for tossing. “I’m good at this,” he warned her, eyes lit up with excitement. “You might not win.” She was probably good at this, too. This whole event seemed to be made more for people like her than him, really; all around him were unglamoured fae, more than he’d ever really seen before. He took a moment to be glad that Rhett was no longer in town, took another moment to feel guilty for that thought. Then, looking back to Teagan, he nodded. “Ready,” he confirmed. “Do we go at the same time? Or one first?”

—

The way Emilio spoke leaned toward familiarity and friendliness in a way that made Teagan’s chest warm. Their friendship had blossomed despite their differences, once they realized just how similar their anger simmered. Almost in unison at times. “You’re getting soft, mun.” She replied, watching affectionately how he rolled his eyes. Yes, he was definitely getting soft. “Teddy’s been good for you. Love’s got a way of sanding down those edges, makin’ those sharp margins just…” Teagan scrunched her nose and let her gaze fall onto the flower crown Emilio wasn’t even attempting to remove. “Right.” She smiled softly and it quickly turned into a grin as her slayer friend grew excited at the array of weapons. 

“I’ll let you go first. You know what that saying is, right?” The nix bounced her brows, a mischievous edge forming on her smile. “You gotta size up your opponent and assess before you make your move.” Teasingly, Teagan bumped her hip to Emilio, twirling a knife in her hand as an idea brewed in her brain. None of the rules on the board said you couldn’t sabotage a player, and even if it did, Teagan was certain the Sylph behind the counter wouldn’t mind a fellow nymph playing a trick. “Now, go on.” She rolled her lips over her teeth, waiting for her opportunity to strike at least one of Emilio’s attempts down. 

“Show me whatcha got, enaid.”

Years ago — months ago, even — the statement would have sounded a lot more like an accusation. In the mind of Elena Cortez, soft was the worst thing a person could be. She’d accused Emilio of it plenty of times, had flung it in his direction like a weapon more times than he could count. It was one of the many things she’d cited that made him useless, and it cut like a knife each time it found its mark. She’d hate him if she could see him now; he’d lost all doubt about that a while ago. It still hurt far more than he was willing to admit, still stung in a way that was hard to explain. But coming from Teagan, it didn’t sound quite like a barb. The mention of Teddy, too, sent a warmth through his chest, made him feel a little less on edge. “Don’t let them know that,” he warned, fondness still present in his expression. “They’ll get a big head. Bad for everyone.” 

Scanning the table, Emilio ran a finger absently along some of the weapons there. Knives were the most familiar; he had practice throwing them. Axes were fun, too. He picked up one of each, weighing them in his hands. “Ah, assess all you want. It won’t help you much,” he warned, wriggling his brows as he placed himself in front of the target. Tucking the hatchet into his belt, he took aim with the knife first, rearing back and letting it fly towards the wooden bullseye in front of him.

—

“I quite like their head, actually. Even if that ego of theirs could fill up a room if it could manifest physically.” She grabbed for her goblet and took a drink of her mead, delighted by the roasted honey notes that permeated to her nose and excited her taste buds. Licking her lips, Teagan put her drink back down onto the table and watched Emilio take in the targets. 

It was always fascinating to watch concentration lock on one’s features. How a body tensed in preparation, moving on instinct and muscle memory. Although Teagan knew how a man like Emilio was manufactured, like a machine set to murder without a chance to have a say, she could see that he made the best out of it. He was using his skills in a game, with a target not made of flesh, but of hay and paper. She could see him almost relax, ever so slightly. He was even participating in playful banter, which only served to motivate Teagan to execute her plan.

“Sure, ‘ol grump. Sure.” She winked, even if he couldn’t see it as he cocked his weapon. “Let’s see if the odds are in your favor!” As Emilio released the blade, Teagan released her own, timing it just so. The blades collided, and the Sylph giggled along with the nix while she gloated and bumped her hip to Emilio’s. “How’s my assessing then, huh?”

“Eh, so do I,” Emilio admitted with a shrug. It was nice, actually, knowing that Teddy had a friend in Teagan. She could probably understand them in ways Emilio never could, probably got things that seemed far too foreign for him to grasp. Teddy deserved someone like that, he knew, deserved a level of understanding that Emilio himself would never be able to give them. (On his worst days, he thought a lot about all the things Teddy deserved and just how incapable he was of providing them. But today wasn’t one of his worst days; today felt a little more like one of his best.)

It felt a little better when he let that knife fly. There had always been something a little freeing about letting a weapon make a controlled exit from his hand. Maybe it was a shitty thing to admit, considering where most of those weapons tended to end up, but he’d always found a little bit of strange comfort in it. It was a way of letting go, a method of taking control away from yourself in the most controlled way possible. The illusion of freedom, in many ways, was more comfortable than the real thing. You could let the knife fly and, even without feeling the weight of it in your hand, know exactly where it would end up.

Unless someone knocked it out of the air.

Emilio narrowed his eyes with a small scowl, turning to raise a brow at Teagan. “Didn’t know we were allowed to cheat,” he said, more amused than accusatory. “My turn to ‘assess’ next, is it?” If anything, this new challenge made the game more fun. It was like Teddy talking his ear off as they threw axes, trying to distract him by turning his mind to… other things. Emilio was pretty good at this game, too. “Go ahead, then. Take your shot.”

—

“Oh, I bet you do, lad.” She replied, happy to see Emilio blissfully attached to someone she knew was inherently good. The two of them were good for each other, if Emilio’s undying smile was any indication. He was still a grump, and always would be, but Teagan knew that his days of bitter loneliness were over. Even his self-sabotaging nature couldn’t get in the way. Not if she or Teddy had anything to say about it. 

Love had a way of doing that, at any level, and the nix felt fortunate enough to understand what that felt like between the hunted and the hunter. She was at peace with that, in a way. Sometimes the acrid taste of her family’s death tightened Teagan’s throat and clawed its way out in terrors at night, sending her out into the darkness as she slept, but she knew she could count on Emilio to be a friend now. She knew it was the same for him. She knew they shared a similar horror. And she knew she could even rely on him to be entertained by her antics. 

Teagan snickered to herself, and then the Sylph joined along again when Emilio made a face. The two of them had come a long way since their introduction by the lake. No longer did Teagan want to drown the slayer in water, but in fondness and joy. It’s what he deserved after what he’d lost. A man that bore the weight of death needed to find a way to release the burden on his shoulders and feel his strength return. Now that the two of them saw eye to eye, Teagan wanted to provide that aid, hoping that one day, Emilio would put it all down and let himself stand tall, without the weight crushing him tenfold.

Smiling more, even. As he was then. 

“All right, enaid.” She teased, standing closer and getting into Emilio’s face to taunt him playfully. “You’ll have to be…” Without looking, Teagan lifted her knife while Emilio was distracted and only pulled away from the goading to immediately throw the knife. “Fast!” She finished, a bit miffed to see she had not hit the bullseye. In fact, she had missed it by a whole two inches.

“Well…you didn’t block it.”

He rolled his eyes again at Teagan’s comment, though it was just as fond as it had been before. It was strange, this dynamic they’d built. It wasn’t one he’d ever seen coming. But most of the relationships in Emilio’s life now were like that, weren’t they? Maybe his friendship with Wynne was a predictable thing, but the rest? He’d hated Teddy to begin with, started off thinking Zane belonged on the other side of one of his stakes. He was pretty sure Teagan had wanted him dead at the start, thought she probably would have seen to it if Arden hadn’t been there to stop her. Most of his friends now weren’t human, something that would have his mother rolling in her grave. But Emilio felt less and less like it was a bad thing to love the people he loved. He wasn’t sure what it said about him. He wasn’t sure if the guilt that sometimes clawed at his chest because of it was warranted or not.

Maybe you didn’t have to feel guilty for being a little less miserable than you used to be, even if that was a hard thing to remember. Maybe you were allowed to hold someone’s hand and smile and wear a crown of flowers on your head even if you knew you’d probably lay awake later with something eating at your insides and the memories of all the people who wouldn’t do any of those things again because you had failed to save them closer to the surface than they had been in a long time. Maybe, in cases like this, all you could do was let yourself enjoy one moment at a time.

So he’d let himself have fun. He’d joke with Teagan, he’d throw knives at paper instead of flesh. And later, if he thought about it too much, it would hurt. He’d get stuck on the thought of his daughter, who hadn’t been given nearly enough moments of pure, innocent fun, or of his wife, who might have liked something like this if her relationship to him hadn’t gotten her killed. The storm clouds would return, because they always did. But right now, for this moment, it was sunny. Maybe it was okay to enjoy that.

Teagan was fast, letting her knife loose before Emilio could prep one to knock it from the sky. But there were tradeoffs with things like this — if you moved too quickly, you sacrificed accuracy. Emilio snorted as her knife missed the target, the grin on his face a wide and shit-eating kind. “Don’t need to block it if you can’t hit it without me messing you up,” he teased. With her hands temporarily empty of knives, he pulled the ax from his waistband and reared back, tossing it at the target and grinning at the resulting thunk when it found home. “Maybe you need to be faster, too.”

—

There was always a twinge of sadness that came along with Emilio’s smile. His eyes held the tragic tales of his family, an abundance of pain that became endless nightmares when he shut his eyes. Could he dream again? Could Teagan? Were they allowed to try after all that time? More often than not, she was afraid the answer was no. And now she found herself afraid that Emilio would fall prey to the same ending after being better than the upbringing he was given. 

His eyes pleaded for that reprieve, but his shoulders tensed with guilt, as if ready to bear it forever. Maybe he would. Maybe they both had to prepare for a grief so infinite because who they were died along those they loved. Or perhaps, Teagan hoped, because they had loved again, because love was the root of all grief, they had the hearts to always find themselves again. To grin with a playfulness long thought lost, at a game that was trivial at its worst, and bridging at its best. 

So, Teagan stepped onto it, without hesitation. She crinkled her nose and stuck her tongue out to tease Emilio as she lightly shoved his flower crown down to obscure his vision. It gave her the chance to throw her next knife with much more accuracy, even if it landed at the edge of the red bullseye. “All right,” Teagan snorted out a chuckle, “This doesn’t mean you win. I mean, look! The hatchet is much bigger than the knife.” The Sylph shook their head in disagreement, and Teagan rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on!” She huffed, though there wasn’t any real grief in it. No, she was lost to the glee she felt being with her friend.

The flower crown came down over his eyes to obscure his vision, and there was a time when it would have been enough to make Emilio panic. There was a time when the world would have closed in on him the moment he couldn’t see everything around him with perfect clarity, a time when he would have made a swing without thinking just to make sure no one came too close before he could see clearly again. There was less distance between himself and that time than he’d have liked to admitted to. He didn’t think it would ever be far from him. It had a way of returning, after all, a way of rising back up from the depths of his chest and wrapping cold fingers around his throat each time he’d thought he’d escaped it. 

But it was absent now. In this moment, on this day, he wasn’t that thin collection of paranoia and grief. It was still in him, of course — at this point, he was fairly certain it always would be — but there were other things there with it on days like today. There was the warm thought of Teddy waiting for him at home, the amused huff that came with Teagan’s attempts at sabotage. Today, at least, he was fine. He just needed to try to hold onto that.

Lifting the flowers from his face, he grinned at the sight of Teagan’s knife just at the edge of the bullseye. “Ah, bullshit!” He laughed, grin only widening when even the sylph in charge of the booth agreed with his victory. “Don’t be a sore loser.” Had he lost, of course, he would have been just as ornery about it, but that was neither here nor there. “Three more goes, though. I’ll use a knife this time, so it won’t matter how big it is.” He swiped one off the table, brow furrowing for a moment as he pretended to have his attention captured by something just in the distance. “The fuck is going on over there?” He asked, letting a hint of feigned concern seep into his voice. When Teagan turned to look at nothing, he quickly loosed the knife at the target.

—

“All right, all right,” Teagan put her hands up in a small truce, reaching into her pocket shortly after when she saw a woman with a platter full of drinks. “You tricked me, but unlike some people, when I point out that there’s something to look at, there’s actually something to look at.” She offered a few shiny rocks and old coins that she had polished, along with a gemstone she was lucky to find in the lake. From what Teagan could gather, it was a beautiful piece of agate, and she knew a fellow nymph would appreciate an exchange with it. 

“Mead platter coming our way. Give ‘em this—” Taking Emilio’s hand, she placed the items in it, and pointed out the gorgeous Anthousa. “Ask for two drinks. I’m runnin’ a bit low.” While he was busy with that, Teagan eyed the hatchet on the table and picked it up. She tested the weight of it and tutted to herself, deciding to use up her next two tries as quickly as she could before the drinks came up. The hatchet landed home, as did the knife, but Teagan knew she was coming up short when it came to the possibility of winning. Whether she liked it or not, even if she hit the next bullseye, Emilio was the winner. 

And he was going to be so smug about it.

“Okay, take your next three turns. I already admit defeat and will be buying the next few rounds of mead.” She paused, “But only if you don’t act like a wanker and rub this win in.”

Following her gaze to the woman with the mead platter, Emilio couldn’t help but grin. He’d give it to Teagan — she knew how to distract him properly. This time, at least, he was willing enough to let it happen. He’d already proven his point with the ax and the knife in the target, pleased enough with himself to let Teagan have a few uninterrupted tosses while he fetched the drinks. Especially if Teagan was the one buying. Emilio couldn’t pretend to understand the currency at this event, but with Teagan footing the bill? He didn’t really have to.

He approached the anthousa, who chattered idly at him as he handed her the stones and coins Teagan had handed him. Emilio wasn’t much of a talker, something the nymph seemed to recognize quickly enough. After he’d successfully gotten the drinks, she trotted off to find someone else to chat with, and there was some relief in that. The hunter knew he didn’t quite fit in here. More than that, he knew that there were plenty of people here who might like to take his head off if they knew a little more about him. It was better, he thought, to stick with the only person at the faire that he was fairly confident didn’t want to kill him. He returned to her, pushing one drink in her direction and taking a swig of the other.

Grinning as Teagan admitted defeat, he picked up one of the knives from the table and tossed it, hitting the bullseye with a flourish. Something told him they both knew he was still going to act like a wanker. 

[hedge-rambles]

"And who even cares about Babs?"

Been having some thoughts about Naberius Tern, following on from this post (OP @sainamoonshine) about Babs, and how we really ought to think more about him.

First things first: 1 - Our views of Babs are, I think, heavily skewed by the fact that Gideon is our POV character in GtN and she just straight up doesn't like him. 2 - I think @masctoast was onto something about Taz dropping Boofy to get us all thinking about Babs, but take it one further and it might be that he's still going to be important somehow beyond as just a fancy outfit for Ianthe.

I've written afore about how I think we need to definitely not underestimate Coronabeth, that despite Ianthe's view of things, Corona is wickedly smart and in a lot more control of situations than her sister ever realises. From that post:

The Third House is the house of lies and deceit said with a shining smile, of pretty words and poisoned knives. The reductive characterisation of the house as a whole is grasping and underhanded and raised to deceive for their own motives, it’s their job, but Coronabeth Tridentarius is an entire level beyond that.

But the thing to remember is that Babs is also Third House, and he was in on the ruse the whole time as well. Babs knew Corona wasn't a necro, and spent much of his life bonded to the two of them as part of the Grand Deception. And we know that was a partnership made up of two cavs and a necro really. I think that, fundamentally, Corona and Babs had a lot to connect over, having similar strengths (beautiful, strong, cavaliers) and similar trials (24/7 Ianthe exposure) and, though we don't see it played out in the books explicitly, we can infer some things.

In NtN, what is one of the first things Crown says to Ianthe wearing Babs? She complains that Ianthe just can't do Babs' hair right, and implies that she can and always could style his hair. She also used to do Ianthe's hair for her, and it's an intimate act in many ways, social grooming.

In GtN Corona reveals herself to be a fairly decent swordswoman, trained with the rapier in secret. Who exactly do we think trained Coronabeth? I think it's safe to say it was Babs, one of the only people in on the fact that she wasn't a necro. They shared their training with each other.

The first post I linked talks about the fact that, read a certain way, Babs is plausibly spending a lot of time making an arse of himself in order to protect Corona's secret. But I think, with that in mind, we can reread a specific early scene in GtN to suggest Corona is also protecting Babs.

Ianthe is cruel and vicious and self absorbed and prickly, and of the trio she's the only one who's an adept. A flesh adept no less, and presumably able to inflict some truly unpleasant non-lethal acts on anyone who draws her ire. In their first proper scene, Gideon spies them all having one of their little tiffs, in which Babs has a go at Ianthe in defence of Corona. How does Corona respond? She leaps to Ianthe's defence, pinching Babs' ear and telling him to back the fuck off. We know now that Ianthe was not someone desperately in need of protecting, neither physically nor emotionally, she wasn't some weak, wilting wallflower.

So why did she do it? Was it because of her deeply enmeshed, codependent thing with her sister? Well, yes, obviously. But if we consider that Corona and Babs may have been genuinely close friends, actually cared about each other's wellbeing...that can be read as having another layer to it. That is to say, Corona is protecting Babs from Ianthe, by taking control of the situation, salving Ianthe's anger and also ensuring that the only harm that comes to Babs is relatively minor, compared to what Ianthe might be able to do.

And it makes sense, the three of them have been together for a long time, and for all Ianthe and Corona desperately love each other in their fucked up way, I think Corona and Naberius may have had a very deep connection as each other's confidants and friends. Babs was one of the few people Corona could bitch to about Ianthe, one of the only people who genuinely knew what was going on with them. Babs was the only person she could really talk to about cav shit, who knew she was truly made to be a cavalier, not a necro - her secret sparring partner.

We can never take anything said and done by the Third House at face value, their whole deal is social subterfuge. Knives and plots hidden behind glittering smiles. I think Corona spent much of her life deceiving Ianthe as to how much power she actually wielded, how much control she actually had over their ruse. In NtN we see how quick and adept she is at handling Ianthe, even when her sister is on a level of power unto a minor god.

And I'm not sure we can even trust her words fully at the end of GtN when Ianthe ate Babs. In that scene, Babs is dead, Ianthe is Ianthe and Corona is a blubbering mess, distraught.

Corona recoiled from Gideon and looked up at her, her golden hair smeared to her forehead with sweat and tears. “She took Babs,” she said, which seemed fair enough. But then Corona started crying again, big tears leaking out of her eyes, her voice thick with misery and self-pity. “And who even cares about Babs? Babs! She could have taken me.

I think it's safe to say that part of this is 100% as it's surface read, Corona's massive co-dependence with Ianthe, she honestly feels upset that Ianthe didn't eat her soul. But I think there's another layer to her grief, that Gideon thinks she's been mistaken about after the first pass. I think she's genuinely upset about the loss of Babs, her friend and confidant, her second closest person other than Ianthe.

"And who even cares about Babs?" You did, Coronabeth Tridentarius. You cared about Babs.

[adleryoung]

As I stared at the ceiling, I remembered Vernier telling me how every time she tried to help someone it always ended in disaster. I recalled what I said to her then, that she had only focused on the negative and forgot about all the times she had successfully helped people. If she could see me right now, she would probably repeat my advice back to me. As much as I would have liked to stay in bed and wallow in self-pity, I could in fact recall plenty of times when I tried to help someone and it didn’t spiral into disaster. Most of those were trivial and small in scope, but it proved I wasn't as cursed as my moping mind would like to believe.

The argument outside began to increase in volume - or was that just my head starting to clear? Either way, I needed to intervene. I had caused this problem (abetted by Burnside being too excited to give me a chance to object) so it was up to me to set things right. Plus, now that a potential love triangle had been established, I had to make sure that Burnside wouldn’t do something typically Burnside-esque involving knives and her romantic rival. I took a deep breath and sat up in the bed.

"Your Lordthip!" Basil objected. "Thould you be getting out of bed tho thoon? It’th only been an hour and you looked like you were nearly mauled to death by a wild animal."

"You were also mumbling in your sleep," Harriet added, "about things that sounded very distressing."

"I’ve survived worse than this," I rasped, my voice still raw. "And you needn't worry about my nightmares. Elves do not need to sleep often. When we do, the subconscious runs rampant. I must get out there and calm those two down before something bad happens. You youngsters had best stay in here until you hear the All Clear."

I stumbled to the door and opened it to see Rebecca and Burnside in the midst of a shouting match.

"He was screaming his head off the entire time," Rebecca bellowed, "and you never once thought to stop and make sure he was okay??"

"That’s normal!" Burnside insisted. "Every mel I ever treated to my super-special brand o' Wiles an venery has screamed with pure unbridled ecstasy!"

"Ecstasy or terror?" Rebecca demanded.

"Is there a difference?"

"Who on Earth uses a dagger for venery?? Did you even once ask him if he was okay with it?"

"He’s a grownup! If he wanted to stop he coulda said so!"

"How was he supposed to do that when there was a knife at his throat??"

"It was only there half the time!"

"Yeah, and the other half you were using it to -"

I tried to firmly clear my throat to get their attention, but only managed to produce a thin, wheezing cough. Both femmes turned to look at me in surprise.

“My lord!" Rebecca exclaimed. "Are you sure you should be out of bed so soon? You sounded delirious when we tucked you in.”

"I’ll be fine," I assured her. "Let me say right off that although it may look bad that I had venery with Burnside right after you left, it was in no way reflective of my feelings toward you, nor a deliberate spurning of your affections."

"Well, yes," Rebecca interjected before I could continue. "I was a little upset about that, but what infuriates me more is the fact that Burnside nearly mauled you to death."

"Your concern is appreciated," I affirmed, "but that is something I must discuss with Burnside myself. Now that she is officially in the employ of the Imperial crown, there are codes of conduct she must adhere to."

I gave Burnside a stern look, and was surprised to see her flatten her ears against her head and look remorseful. I only recalled seeing her like that when she was under the influence of some Unseelie narcotic, and when I threatened her with fearsome punishments.

"She told me that you made her your concubine," Rebecca continued. "Does that mean-?"

"As High King, what I have decreed stands. I find you quite attractive, Rebecca, but for the time being it would be a gross abuse of my position as your teacher and mentor to act upon my baser impulses. What has happened today was just unfortunate timing. We shall discuss it further when everyone’s temper has cooled."

I could feel the tension lift after I said that. Why then didn't I feel any better? Rebecca still looked unhappy, but she wasn't angry anymore. Burnside looked embarrassed and mildly ashamed. I would need to spend time with each of them one-on-one later. How did my predecessors keep up with whole harems of Floozies? Just these two were difficult enough! But somehow, surprisingly it seems I actually managed to calm them both down. We had a long journey ahead of us, and hopefully there would be time on the road to have a good talk with each of them.

[flowerflamestars]

A scene, if you will, mid-effloresce 15:

FEYRE, strapping on a bow? some knives, hurling herself down a hallway in the townhouse: TAKE ME BACK THERE

Rhysand: no

(Rhysand quite literally picks her up. Carries her back to her room and throws her inside. Locks the door FROM THE INSIDE and then dramatically sags against it)

Feyre: we have to go back! we have to- (begins to cry)

Rhys, all growly and window shakingly loud: NO

F: WHY NOT

R (all sad and quiet now): I WILL NOT RISK YOU- I Will NOT- Feyre, think.

F: MY SISTERS-

R: Your sisters are fine. You think they're anywhere but with Lucien Vanserra? With Cassian (brief smirk). The humans have an entire Illyrian legion evacuating them. What are you going to do?

F: It's my home too!

R: Is it?

Feyre, stomping right up to, back to furious for about ten seconds: How can you-

Rhys, touching her cheek with just his cold fingertips: You're my home, Feyre. And I will not lose you to the fires of Hybern. I can't. I won't. Call me a monster all you like-

Feyre, covering his hand: You're not a monster.

R: that's not what you said before.

F: I was wrong before! I didn't. (She clutches his hand tighter, pressing it along the lines of her sharp faery cheek.) You saved me, Rhys. I just-

R: You want them to be okay.

F: They're my sisters.

R: They'll be okay. Cassian has never lost a battle. (Tiny smug smile) Unless it was against me. (SIGH). And Lucien might be an oathbreaker, but he's a damn powerful one. They'll be fine.

F, nodding, taking this in like it's a fact: They'll be fine. And once they're here-

R: We'll make a place for them.

AND CUE WELCOME DINNER PARTY, the second.

What I think is really interesting about Feyre/Rhysand (and really the books as a whole in a ghoulish fashion), is that... there are no downsides to immortality? Feyre literally dies, becomes what she was raised to hate/fear and tells her sisters she can fight and fuck better now. Like?? Feyre thinks the version of her that is most like Rhys is actively better than whoever she was as a human.

And maybe part of that is hardship. She was so young, she wanted out, it makes sense.

But it totally, totally, strips all empathy from the potential human cost of the war.

AND THEN, we see this mingling wherein Rhys believing in Feyre is this direct pipeline to Feyre believing in (and creating) her own myth TO THE EXTENT that she's ordering around other high lords.

So, I think it's in character. That's exactly what they're doing, nothing. To Feyre, it's about romance. to Rhys it is also romantic but ALSO about Feyre's sisters being a problem and ALSO ALSO he wants to repay their trickery in kind.

You are spot on about Mor and Amren! (Amren didn't even come to dinner, she's drinking on her roof and watching the Archeron ships in port with little diamond incrusted opera glasses she doesn't need)

I think Mor's slow motion character breakdown is about how she uses Cas + Az to prop up this very specific status quo, but, BUT it was also always going to break down once Rhys brought Feyre home. she takes Mor's place as the desirable heart of the court. The most theorectically direct authority after Rhys. Mor is basically regelated a whole step back.

YES I HAVE CROWN ANSWERS- Where Lucien's crown was made for him (see the mixed Court iconography, final nail in the coffin of 'shit who is my father', ect), Elain's crown is the Crown of Autumn. It's an ancient, powerful faery relic with a mind of it's own. It's disappearing and reappearing at will. (Az 1000% clocked it. Those are his weird new High Lord + Lady friends. he's not saying shit past what he is impelled to)

(they had enough warning Lucien moved the hatbox + the cellar contents to Mist)

EFFLORESCE THOUGHTS (Round One: The last Cassian pov section)

When I first read through my brain did the over-excited-skip-words thing and I thought that Feyre just unilaterally declared that Nesta would be speaking at the high lords' summit instead of saying that she would ask and honestly it'd be so in character that she'd already be back to making decisions that effect her sisters without asking that I didn't even question the mis-read beyond "*heavy sigh* Really Feyre? Really?" (Have the other High Lords even agreed to the meeting yet or are you about to go try to demand Nesta speak at a meeting you don't even know is happening yet? (You wanna know what Nesta would say? She would say YOUR BOYFRIEND IS A SHITHEAD.))

And, like, Rhysand just, like, ignoring everything Azriel is trying to tell him. Like, dude, his job is to give you information. You literally (well, theoretically anyway) pay him to give you information. Why are you ignoring it?!

(The Az losing his shit train wreck is picking up speed.)

Cassian just seems like he's dissociating, like, soooo hard at the end there. "Oh? You're giving the literal child large amounts of (theoretical) political power and authority? Neat. Great. Whatever. Where's Nesta? I'm going back to Nesta." ('Titled nonsense' was something Feyre said in an earlier chapter. Does that opinion change when it's her being offered a super-special title by her boyfriend because she's super-special? Girl, you can't even grasp the responsibilities your sisters have for the people of their one patch of land. How are you possibly going to comprehend the responsibilities of an entire court?! (Rhys doesn't even really mange to))

300+ people are displaced or dead (Feyre's sister's included) and Rhys, Feyre, and Mor seem... mildly inconvenienced at best. (I had more flailing thoughts to add to this point somewhere but I seem to have lost them for now.)

(Have they even realized that Nesta, Elain, and Lucien have fucked off and left the house yet?)

Anyway,

<3

DELIGHTFUL

It's fully both things. The High Lords meeting has NOT coalesced into any real plan aside from something Rhysand has mentioned to Feyre. She has taken that and run to a plan that is emotionally satisfying to her, while he is, naturally, turning it a romantic gesture that means both trouble, and nothing. (Feyre's sisters aren't speaking to her)

(the stupid romance always works on her, too. She is very into Rhysand presenting power as devotion, specifically raising her, where Tamlin made it a responsibility and she fucking hated it)

Feyre also genuinely thinks they're going to come around. Hybern killed everyone, surely thats a reason to fight Hybern! That they'd be, in turn, fighting for Rhysand is a nonissue to her.

Rhys is way, way too deep in digging the grave of what could have been via protracted plans to get Feyre's sisters to just bend, to repay them playing him, to have control of the situation. And probably also some weird Feyre-based protective hostility. He does want them humiliated, but he's pissed at Azriel for just saying it.

Cassian is on the BRINK. Flying into Velaris? Panic. Carrying Morrigan? Different, horrified panic. Knowing his own feelings will be counted as betrayal, also knowing Rhys might skim for them? HE IS ILL WITH IT.

And he hasn't seen Nesta in five days. A very long time, considering he thought she was going to die last time they were in the same room. He has spent those five days doing things he, a member of the night court, absolutely should not be doing. (IS he an Archeron? Or is he a member of this court that he's loved and bled for and hated in equal measure so many long years? what matters more, the time of the vow?) He has not spent those five days thinking on a loop Nesta Archeron is my nation now, almost entirely because he thinks he does not deserve to.

Elain, Lucien, and Nesta have been going back and forth. Which is doing interesting things to the city wards, watched over by Amren.

[random-writerings]

Anidala/The Skywalker Family - Pumpkin Carving

“I’m home,” Anakin called, struggling with the door. He was carrying four very heavy, very large bags. He went to the kitchen, dumping the bags on the table. 

“What’s that?” Padme asked, pointing at the bags.

“Pumpkins,” Anakin replied cheerfully, unpacking them onto the table. Padme watched in horror as pumpkins covered the entire surface of the table.

“That’s a lot of pumpkins.”

“Tis the season!” Anakin grinned at his wife. “Besides, the kids will love them.”

She still looked unimpressed. “Seriously, how many did you buy?”

“Uh, three each for the kids, in case they mess one up and get upset. And two for the rest of us.”

“The rest of us?” She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah. You, me, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan. I was thinking we could have a little party and carve them all together.”

“Anakin, that's 14 pumpkins! Where are we going to put them all?” She sounded genuinely distressed. 

“Don’t worry, we'll find space. Don't you want the house to look festive?” He asked cheekily. 

“There's a difference between ‘festive’ and ‘overkill’.”

“Not when it comes to Halloween.” 

When she didn’t respond, he smiled brightly at her, knowing that she would say yes to anything when he smiled at her like that. “Come on, it'll be fun. I promise.”

Padme couldn't help but smile fondly at her husband’s excitement. “Oh, Ani,” she murmured. “Alright, I suppose I better call Obi-Wan and Ahsoka.”

“Thank you, my love.” Anakin kissed her forehead sweetly.

“Yeah, well, you're cleaning up the mess.” She swatted his chest playfully.

“I’d be happy to.” He grinned and pulled her in for another kiss.

~~~

When Luke and Leia came home from school, they were thrilled about all the pumpkins stacked in the kitchen. They immediately rushed to pick their pumpkins, fighting over the biggest ones and chattering eagerly about what they would carve on them. They were a little disappointed that they had to wait until the weekend, but that quickly disappeared when they were told that Obi-Wan and Ahsoka would be carving the pumpkins with them.

On the day of the party, the twins ran to answer the door. They quickly greeted their uncle and older sister before practically dragging them inside, eager to get started.

“Okay, okay.” Padme tried to calm her children who were bounding around the room enthusiastically. “The knives are sharp so we have to be calm and careful, okay?”

The twins nodded, finally settling down a bit.

They all gathered around the table and began scooping out the insides of their pumpkins. Every year they would make pumpkin muffins with the leftovers, but at this rate, they were going to have to make a much larger batch than they normally would. Oh well, the twins could always take some into school and share with their class, Padme reasoned.

They drew their designs on the pumpkins with markers before starting to carve. Luke got a little over-excited and made a massive cut down the side of his first pumpkin with his haphazard carving. Anakin reassured him it still looked fine, but he insisted that it was ruined. He redrew his design, a simple drawing of their dog R2, on another pumpkin. He was more careful this time and made sure to ask Anakin for help when he needed to. Then he carved a spaceship on his other pumpkin, surrounded by little stars.

Leia, unlike her brother, was much more careful with her carving. She moved slowly, concentrating on keeping her hand steady, so as not to mess up. All three of her pumpkins turned out great. One was a typical spooky face with triangle eyes and a mouth full of jagged teeth, and another was a large princess crown with little diamonds atop the points. Her third one was just a few diagonal lines, which she had to explain were werewolf scratches, obviously.

Ahsoka and Anakin were having just as much fun as the children. They turned the activity into a competition to see who could carve the best pumpkin. Like Leia, Ahsoka also carved a face, but her one was more silly than spooky. It had a wide goofy grin, big eyes, and a round nose. Her other pumpkin was a bit more detailed. It was a cat face with cute ears, a little nose, long whiskers, and a collar with a bell. Anakin, in an attempt to one-up her, tried to carve a skull and crossbones, thinking it would be easy. It was not easy. The bones turned out a little bit squished while the top of the skull was sliced off because he cut too close to the top of the pumpkin. He was still proud of it, despite how much Ahsoka laughed at him. His other pumpkin was a little square outline of a robot head, with round eyes, a triangle nose, and straight mouth. Luke loved it and placed it next to his spaceship, claiming that they had to be together because they matched. Anakin decided that he liked that one better than the first.

Meanwhile, Obi-Wan was silently struggling. He thought carving pumpkins would be easy, but he quickly found out that it's harder than it looks. He tried to start simple with his first pumpkin, drawing a silhouette of a bat. It turned out okay, but the lines were a bit wobbly. His second pumpkin was a grinning vampire with two uneven fangs, one long thin one and one short thick one. Still, it adds character, he decided.

Padme spent most of the time helping her kids (and Obi-Wan) and didn’t have muc time for her own pumpkins. So she stuck with a couple of quick, easy designs. She carved a witch hat on one pumpkin and a cute little ghost on the other. They were nothing special, she thought, but she was pleased with how they turned out. When she was finished, Ahsoka declared her the winner of the competition (even though she wasn't competing) just because she knew it would annoy Anakin.

They put tea lights inside the pumpkins and replaced the tops. Luke and Leia began instructing the adults where to put their pumpkins, spreading them around the house. Some went on the porch, some went in the hallway, some went in the living room window, and some went in the back garden. Then, Luke took his spaceship pumpkin and Leia took her crown pumpkin to put in their bedroom windows. 

~~~

“I think that went well,” Padme said hours later, as her and Anakin got ready for bed.

“See, I told you it would be fun,” Anakin teased her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes jokingly. “Yes, Ani, you were right. It was fun.”

“So, should we do this again next year?”

“Let’s just get through this Halloween first.” Padme laughed. “We still need to think of costumes for trick or treating.”

Anakin visibly perked up at. He loved trick or treating just as much as his children did. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas,” he said excitedly.

Padme sat down on the bed with him, taking his hand in hers. She knew Anakin would probably come up with some crazy costumes so she would have to sort through his many ideas and choose one that was practical. But, at the same time, she loved when her husband got excited about little things like this. “Okay, what are you thinking?”

[romeoandjulietyouwish]

headcanons for vax as a dad in the happy ending AU please? i have read so much of dad percy, because obviously he’s canon and so many people have their thoughts, but i want to know what your dad!Vax is like! What kinds of things does he do with his kids? Does he raise them in Zephrah or do he and Keyleth travel everywhere? Do they all get training knives as toddlers or do he and Keyleth try to raise them totally away from that? Is Vax a flower crowns dad or a terrible jokes and pranks dad? Just. Dad Vax Please!

OMG yes I have so many thoughts! the au in question

I think that he and Keyleth raise them primarily in Zephrah, but travel frequently to Whitestone and spend weeks at a time there, especially when the kids get older and demand all the time to go play with their cousins

Vax, being the stay at home dad, teaches his kids their lessons when they're really little and I think he takes up cooking and always has three very eager helpers (who honestly eat more of the food than they cook but he doesn't mind)

I think that they try to raise them as far away from violence as they can but when Birdie gets old enough, Vax absolutely teaches her how to use a knife because there's no way in hell he's letting his little girl out into the world without knowing how to defend herself

And I think that he is very much a flower crown dad and at any given time he's wearing at least two (2) pieces of jewelry made by his kids

But when they get older he also very much encourages the prank war they have going and for sure helps them set up pranks on each other

I think that he also only puts on his armor in order to bamf out the wings and give his kids rides through the sky, they all adore it so much, especially when Keyleth turns into a bird and joins them

[whaleofatjme1920]

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires (Masky X F!Reader)

Feeling Warmth Through Doused Fires

[Masky/Tim Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: murder, language, angst, mentions of death and actual death. Mostly the angst.]

[AN: Another brilliant request from Eris! This was also a Ko-Fi commission! ALSO ALSO this thing is 13K words! This is my longest fic yet! buckle in.]

When are there not stars in your eyes? It’s hard to dim them even when the sun comes up, which is such an odd thing to even admit due to the mud life has made you trudge through.

You are the product of a proxy father and a human mother. To be the Slender Man’s child is your birthright, and so far, you’ve been living up to that birthright with flying colors. As a young one, she had woven you stories of the culture and society your father was a part of and everything he had been up to.

Visions of murder, deals gone sour, and morally grey acts have been threaded into your soul. You grew up thinking that was normal, and by twelve, you had knowledge on things that no child should have ever opened their ears to.

“And then what happened?” You ask your mother, urging her to continue the story.

She giggles like a butterfly ready to take flight and holds your tiny six year old body closer to her. She smells of honey and vanilla. “That group had messed with the wrong people,” she continues, her voice falling deceptively low. “The tall man in the woods-”

“You mean the faerie?” You ask as your eyes sparkle. “The Slender Man?”

Your mother nods, her index finger reaching up to tap your nose. “Yes, exactly that,” she hums. “He sent another group of proxies to handle the mess.”

“Ooooooo they’re in troubleeeeee,” you giggle, still hooked around your mother.

She laughs. “He initiated what is called a ‘proxy hunt’. It’s something only the bad proxies are subject to,” she explains. “It’s important you don’t make mistakes like that, Reader. Do you understand?” She questions with a warm hum as she secures you in her arms, bringing your tired form to your bedroom.

“Got it,” you say in the most serious tone a six year old can muster. “No making the faerie mad.”

“That’s my girl.” Her lips pull up in a grin that rivals the Cheshire cat.

Your father is a proxy. He is tall, unstable, but loves you like the moon loves the tide and the sun loves the earth. To be a proxy is to be closed off and untouchable, but the sound of you running to greet him on the blue moon he visits you and your mother has always been enough to humanize him, if even for a moment. He loves you, his special little girl, with all the grains of sand there are on the earth.

He comes around sparsely, and as you grow older, rarely. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s just that he’s busy and the Slender Man enjoys making his favorites suffer. Every time he sees you, he remarks how much bigger you’ve gotten. He’s more than upset that he can’t be there to watch you grow into a fine young lady.

“You’re late,” you say, eyes narrowed as you look up at the tall, bulky man who stands before you. You take your hand off the doorknob and stand tall as you cross your arms.

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” the man apologizes, crouching down to your eye level. “I brought you a present.”

You eye your father carefully, arms relaxing for a moment before noticing the wrapped gift in his hands. “Is…”

“It’s something you’ll like,” he answers, holding the gift out to you. “I promise.”

You narrow your eyes again but take the wrapped present from his hands, shaking it slightly. You hear something rattling around. “Can I open it?” You ask as you attempt to hide your smile.

Your father chuckles. “I don’t think your mother would appreciate it, but yes. Go ahead, open it.”

You relent in the angry front and plop down on the floor, opening the present without any grace as a ‘proper lady’ as your mother would put it. You peel back the brightly colored wrapping paper and then tear into the box. “Oh my gods,” you whisper to yourself in surprise as the stars once again light up in your eyes. It’s an entire art set of fine materials. “Where did you get these?”

Your father shrugs. “That’s for me to know and you to never find out,” he says in a teasing tone.

You push at him before placing the box of expensive art supplies to the side. You can’t help but lunge into your father’s waiting arms.

“I heard you were getting seriously into art from your mother. Doing art for friends? I’m so proud of you!” He laughs and hugs you, his lips pressing to the crown of your head. “Happy twelvth, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your hair. “I love you so, so much.”

You can’t help but cry and hug your father tighter.

For a person who was supposed to be brutal, uncaring, uncouth and simply inhuman, your father had the whole dad thing down when he was around. He never raised his voice to you, was kind and thoughtful in his responses, and you adored how he treated your mother with nothing but love and understanding.

You know that if he wasn’t shackled to a life he had no choice of entering, he would have been one hell of a father.

Your mother, a mentally fragile woman who loves a damn near unattainable man, brings you the news one overcast morning. Her eyes are red and puffy and it looks like she hasn’t been able to stop crying for hours. Her posture is broken but her heart even more so. It’s probably irreparable.

You were sitting at your desk, doing your homework. Tomorrow was Monday, starting the final week of school. It was one of the final essays before you were out for summer break, and then you’d be gearing up for your first year of high school once autumn came.

Earbuds in, you didn’t even hear your mother slink into the doorway of your room. When you finally get the inkling that someone is watching you, you take out one of your earbuds and turn your head. “Mom?” You sound genuinely confused, especially after seeing her rough appearance. “What’s wrong?” You slowly push back in your chair, ready to stand and meet her in the doorway.

“Your-your,” her breath hitches as she leans helplessly in the doorway. “It’s your father,” she manages to rasp out as she begins to slink downwards, her knees buckling.

Your eyes go wide, tears welling in them and blurring your vision as you jump out of your seat and collapse on the floor with your mother. You wrap your arms around her, burying your face into her shoulder as she cradles you in her arms.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry,” she wails like a mantra, clutching onto you like she’s afraid to lose you too.

You don’t know how to feel in that direct moment. You loved your father, more a shadow than a real man, but his loss cuts deep and hard. He wanted to show you things “when you’re older” and tell you of the world you were born in. You wanted so badly to learn it all by his hand and his knowledge.

When your mother has finally come to a grounding point where she is no longer choking over her words, she leads you to her bedroom. She moves slowly, as if she’s trying not to remember anything about the man she loved and lost. Her steps are quiet, almost like she’s floating.

You follow her just as quietly. It’s as if you don’t want to disturb the silence that has settled over the two of you. It’s heavy and suffocating, but it’s a blanket shielding you from the reality that someone is gone and never coming back.

Your mother opens her bedroom door and shifts around in her drawers.

Unsure of where you should be and if you’re allowed into the sanctuary that is her room and her space, you wait in the doorway, much like she did when she brought you the bad news. You’re still wiping away tears with the bottoms of your hands and by extension, rubbing your skin raw. Your vision is still bleary, but when your mother finally resurfaces, you don’t even need to be told what it is she’s holding.

In her hands is a mask. It’s dark brown and has a simple face almost reminiscent of a dragon. It’s simple, but elegant. It’s simple, but horrifying. You feel drawn to it.

Your mother weakly smiles and sits down on her bed, patting the open spot for you to sit down.

You do so without question and take your spot next to her, almost on instinct leaning yourself onto her side. You smile softly as she wraps her arm around you, pulling you close.

“It was your father’s,” she says quietly, fingertips gently tracing the mask's face. She then gingerly shifts it onto your lap. “Now it is yours.”

You feel more tears cascade from your eyes as you gaze longingly down at the mask on your lap. “Are you sure?” You shakily question, wondering why she’d want to pass such a beautiful memento down to you so soon.

“It’s your birthright,” she replies, her lips pressing to the side of your head that gives you a love only a devoted mother could.

You didn’t understand what she meant at that moment.

You never saw your first year of high school.

When the summer came, you had bounced back like any child could. Children are plastic. They can bounce back from almost anything, just give them enough time, space, and care. You were no exception.

In truth, after losing your father, you hadn’t found any desire to go to college. Your heart was telling you that a life that was so cookie cutter and parallel to everyone else’s was never in the cards for you. Your blood sung for something different.

Proxies always return to him.

Your mother knew it too. She saw it in your longing gaze as she drove the two of you back home from grocery runs, how your eyes would follow the breeze in the backyard to the woods, how your hands naturally found their way to knives, and how your thoughts transcended what should be humanly possible.

But you’re not human. You never have been. Never will be.

Your mother knew that best. It was only natural that she found contact with the tall man of the woods halfway through the summer of losing your father.

“She’s different, my little girl,” she explained as she gazed up at the imposing, almost immaculate figure. “I don’t think I could ever give her what is expected or needed.” She hates to admit that she’s not good enough for you, but that is the curse of being a born, not turned proxy. Proxies always return to their master, regardless of age, creed, or background.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘What would you have me do?’ He’s only asking as a formality. He knows that you belong to him. Your father had been attempting to gear you up to join. The Slender Man is only finishing what one of his most beloved proxies started.

Your mother shifts uncomfortably, crossing her arms over her chest as a defensive maneuver. She absentmindedly tucks some strands of her hair behind her ear. “I think she needs to be with you,” she mumbles, still not wanting to admit she’s not good enough because she’s human. “I think she needs to be fully immersed in… Whatever it is my husband says you do.”

The Slender Man chuckles deeply. He knows your mother knows what his beloved proxy does, but he lets her feign her ignorance. ‘That’s rich coming from a woman who loves her child more than the land loves the sea,’ he taunts coldly. In truth, it is nothing against her as an individual, but it is everything against her as a human being.

Your mother scoffs and holds her ground. “Will you take her in or not?”

He raises his hand to convey a truce. ‘My apologies.’ He doesn’t mean it. ‘I will. She is my child, afterall-’

“She is NOT your child,” your mother snarls, fully aware she is in the presence of a very temperamental being who could smite her just for thinking wrong.

The Slender Man, in all his mercy, once again holds his hand up as a sign of truce. ‘I understand the loss is still heavy on your heart,’ he begins, voice heavy and almost exhausted to be dealing with human emotional flare ups. ‘I will take her as soon as you are ready to let her go.’

Your mother’s shoulders drop slightly as she comes to the realization that yes, that was a decision she was making. She feels tears well in her eyes, but refuses to blink them away. “Thank you.” She nods to the tall man, then turns on her heels and heads back home, where you lay asleep waiting for her.

The Slender Man watches her leave with curiosity in his gaze. He already knows where he’s going to be placing you. You are not the youngest to fall under his influence, but you are the first in a while. He tends to pluck young adults, not children. And if he did choose children, consider it target practice.

Nothing more.

When your mother tells you that you are leaving her side, you are once again thrown into a plethora of emotions, a maelstrom .A part of you can’t believe she’d just willingly give up on you like that, but another says this is the direction you’re meant to go.

“This isn’t a decision I make lightly, Reader!” She exclaims in budding frustration, her fingers raking through her hair like a tick. “Really, I have no say in the matter!”

“Yes you do!” You cry back. “You’re my mother! How could you just abandon me?” You fight back. You ball your hands in fists. You’re not backing down from her.

Your mother sighs deeply and shakes her head. “I am not prepared for this,” she mumbles. “I do not have the right knowledge to allow you to grow into the person you could be,” she finishes, plopping back onto the wall in the kitchen. She’s exhausted on every facet. Her heart hurts with just how much she loves you.

“What could you not be prepared for?” You seethe. “What on this hunk of rock are you not prepared for?”

Your mother honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. Your father had always been oddly tight lipped about certain aspects of the proxy lifestyle, perhaps out of safety reasons for the two of you. She doesn’t know what you’re going to be thrown into. “I know that it’s rough-”

“Just like that?” You retort, a fire in your eyes that reminds her much too much of her departed husband. “You don’t want me? Is that it?” You finally relent, a crack interrupting your once strong tone.

Your mother falters and comes to your side, holding you in her arms once more. “Of course not,” she murmurs. “Of course not.”

“Then why?” You prod softly with a small sting.

“You are a proxy by blood, that’s all,” she offers as advice, swaying you.

You feel your heart begin to slow from its racing pace. You don’t want to accept that as an answer, but you do just to bring her peace.

You leave your mother’s side near the end of July. Just twelve years old and on the precipice of something no ordinary human could ever even begin to understand.

Your final dinner with her was uncomfortable, but bittersweet at the same time. You and your mother had shared stories, laughs, tears, everything and anything. You know that after this, you probably won’t ever be able to see her again.

Your mother brings you to the woods herself. She holds your hand, a knot in her stomach over seeing you holding your father’s mask followed by a backpack strapped to your still small body as you are about to venture into the unknown. She never thought she’d be losing you so soon.

The Slender Man is never tardy. He pops into your view once you are a safe distance into the forest with splendor - it’s probably to impress you to some degree. He really hasn’t worked with a child in a very long time.

You feel your head go dizzy with static. Your breath hitches and your heart stops. It’s almost intoxicating that you are in the presence of the man who will now have control of your entire life. You look up at him and the stars return to your eyes. Still, as a child-like crutch, you grip onto your mother’s side and hide yourself with her form, terrified of the imposing man that stands tall in front of you.

“It’s okay,” your mother says softly, gently urging you to the man you will now consider your god. “He’s here to help you.”

The Slender Man hums deeply. His voice invades your head like a virus, infecting every thought and feeling until it overtakes you and makes itself home. Curiously, he bends down. He is lit up by the light of the full moon.

You peek out from your mother’s form and gradually find the stones to leave her side - still hesitantly. You take in a deep breath, reminding yourself to be brave, and approach the now bent down figure who sits at eye-level with you. “It’s… It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir,” you say quietly, a childlike innocence making the Slender Man mentally smile. You look at him with fear and curiosity in your eyes.

He chuckles deeply - the sound sends chills down your spine - before holding out a flower to you. It’s small, much like you, and pretty. The petals are free of any damage the bugs might have caused, and the color is absolutely spellbinding. It’s your father’s favorite color, red, though it’s not a rose. ‘For you, my dear.’

You allow a sheepish smile to spread onto your lips before you take the flower from his waiting hand, and sniff it. It’s so sweet and familiar. You recognize the scent as something your father carried on his person. The thought makes you tear up.

His large, clawed hand comes up to your face before his thumb gently wipes the tears away. ‘It’s time to go. Say goodbye, dear.’ He nods for you to bid a farewell to your mother, who is trying her hardest to not break in front of you.

You don’t hesitate in turning around and running into her open arms, face crashing into her chest as you take in her familiar scent for a final time.

“I love you,” she whispers, peppering your face and crown with kisses. “Never ever forget that.” She holds you tighter, and you hold back just as tight.

When it’s time to go, you leave her warmth to a cold that burns bright.

It wraps around your hand, and takes you to a diner.

“Where are we?” You ask as you take a gander at your surroundings. You see that you’re still largely obscured in darkness, but the artificial lights of a lit up IHOP grant you that soft, almost annoying light that disturbs the night.

He lets go of your hand. ‘Head inside and you will meet your group.’

You look up at the Slender Man curiosity. “My group?” You quizzically ask, still looking up at the tall man.

He nods and then puts his hand on your back, gently nudging you to cross the parking lot, almost as if he’s nonverbally telling you that they are waiting for you. “Like a family. A new family.”

You feel a little nervous, but nod your head and decide to be strong - or whatever you think your father might have done in a similar situation. “Thank you for your time,” you say, remembering your mother and father both stressing how important it was to show reverence to those in higher positions than you.

The Slender Man’s wolfish smile floods your mind’s eye, gently, and warmly before he nods once more for you to go. Like a proud father, he watches you take tentative first steps into an entirely new future. Only when you open the doors of the establishment does he mentally tell his proxies that wait inside of the newest member’s arrival, and then zip out of existence as you know it.

Tim waits at the diner with a small frown on his face. He’s not entirely pleased with the news his boss has given him and it shows. He's drinking far too often from his coffee cup for his group’s liking.

“Ease up,” Brian huffs as he pushes Tim’s coffee cup back to the table and away from his lips. “You’re gonna be bouncing off the walls.”

Tim rolls his eyes and picks up his coffee cup much to his right hand’s chagrin. “I’m handling it how I want to,” he mumbles into the lip of the coffee cup.

“Come on, it’s not the end of the world-”

“It’s a child,” Tim cuts him off. “The youngest person we had prior to us was Toby, and he’s-”

“I’m w-what?” Toby hums as he comes back to the table, sliding comfortably back into his seat.

“He’s bitching about the kid we’re getting,” Brian answers as he absentmindedly stirs his drink with his straw.

“Is he n-now?” Toby chuckles. “I’m s-surprised you’re n-not more w-w-w-worried, to b-be completely h-h-honest,” he breathes out in a teasing tone, lightly elbowing Brian who smiles for a moment in response.

“I fought my demons on this issue and won,” Brian smirks. “Masky here clearly hasn’t.”

Tim rolls his chocolate colored eyes once more and leans back into his seat, looking at the fourth and empty chair that will eventually be filled by you. “I honestly don’t think you two are worried enough,” he grumbles under his breath before he crosses his arms over his chest.

Snickers ring out from his two companions. Clearly, they find amusement in his worry. Tim almost hates to admit how worried he is.

You’re not just a runt, you’re a child. A literal child. Something about having you in this life feels morally and ethically wrong, and he knows that. A part of him is scared you’ll just… Fold.

Brian has had his reservations about the situation, but overall, he has made peace with it - for now. He’s not too thrilled over the Slender Man putting a child in his group, but at the same time, he’s nowhere near as frazzled as Tim is.

Toby finds the entire situation amusing. He was the youngest of the group. In some ways, Toby has never quite grown up. That’s not a bad thing though, it just means it’s easier for him to relate to you. And honestly, you aren’t his entire responsibility, so he’s able to be the fun guardian.

That’s what the Slender Man called the three of them, your actual guardians. No questions asked, you were now theirs as much as you are his.

You push through the doors and look around the IHOP, looking for anyone who might have any inkling of what you should be doing. Your eyes dart around and the palace is relatively empty. There’s a few groups interspersed and lost in their own worlds, and you have no idea which one you should be heading towards.

Your thoughts are answered when you hear steps approaching followed by the heavy smell of cigarettes that hang in the air thickly. You look up to see a man in a black t-shirt, with dark and tired eyes. He gives you a faint smile as you look up at him.

“Are you hungry?” He asks suddenly, almost throwing you entirely off guard.

You blink a few times. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind anything else,” you answer a tad awkwardly. You don’t why, but you get the overwhelming feeling to not disrespect him. It’s almost stronger than the feeling to respect your mother and father.

“Come with me then,” he says.

You watch as he begins to walk towards a table and squeak in response before picking up the pace and following him.

Tim weaves you through the sea of tables and sets your sights on a table that has two men sitting across from each other, talking. You look at the two with slight curiosity before the man leading you puts his hands on the back of a brown haired boy’s chair.

There’s a minute pause between the two before the boy silently gets up and joins the blond haired man’s side.

You take a seat next to the man who led you in, a little quiet due to being shy and in the presence of imposing figures (though nowhere near as imposing as the Slender Man) and focus on the table. Remembering to be polite, you keep your eyes trained on the table and open your mouth to greet them. “Hello.”

The blond haired man’s lips curl upwards into a smile. “So she does speak,” he says more as a joke to the other two men rather than directly to you.

The man who led you in kicks his right hand’s shin under the table. “Be nice,” he hisses quietly. “Sorry,” he apologizes, eyes darting to look at you. “Why don’t we uh, go around the table and say our name and a fun thing about ourselves?” He suggests tiredly.

“What are we, five?” The blond haired man chuckles. He winces when Tim kicks his shin again. “Alright, fine,” he mutters under his breath before finally turning to you. “Hi, my name is Hoodie. I really like photography,” he states, an amused twinkle coming to his hazel eyes.

You perk up slightly.

“M-Me next?” Toby asks before deciding to go up himself. “Hi, I-I’m Toby. I c-can’t feel pain.”

You raise your eyebrows and look over at the pale, vaguely grey skinned boy. “You can’t feel pain?” You inquire, voice raising slightly to convey your budding curiosity.

“Mhm,” he hums, a smile slowly coming onto his lips. “You c-c-can slap m-me, I won’t f-f-feel it.”

You glance at the other two men who both nod out of unison, sly grins curling the corners of their mouth upwards. Almost shyly, you lean over the table and open your hand. You look at Toby for confirmation and close your eyes, hitting him across the face as hard as a twelve year old can muster. When you open your eyes after your hand made impact, you see that he’s unmoved.

There’s nothing in Toby’s eyes that tells you he’s masking the pain either. He’s genuinely unbothered. “S-See what I m-mean, Princess?” He chuckles as you sit back in your seat, dumbfounded.

“Yeah, yeah, Toby is special,” the man who brought you in chuckles tiredly before waving Toby off. “Anyways, my name is Masky and I’m your group leader,” he tells you in passing.

Brian rolls his eyes and lightly kicks Tim’s shin from under the table. “That’s not a fun fact.”

“D-Ditto,” Toby agrees as he crosses his arms over his chest. “T-Tell her a r-r-real fun fact.”

Tim pauses for a moment before he finally sees the stars in your eyes. He finds it hard to not indulge you. “Hoodie and I used to go to the same college together,” he finally states, earning an approving smile from both Brian and Toby.

You want to press the topic when the waitress finally makes her grand appearance.

“Hi, hon! Apologies for not getting here any sooner. Did you want something?” She asks with a warm smile on her dark lips. “I can get you some juice to start off with if you don’t know what you’d like yet?” She continues in a semi-speculative tone.

You think it over for a second before looking up at her. “I would like some apple juice and a small thing of chocolate chip pancakes if that’s okay with you?” You’re both asking her and the men at your table.

“Sure thing,” she hums. “Anything for you boys?”

“We’re fine, just stuff for the little lady,” Tim replies. “Though uh, I would like another pot of coffee,” he trails off.

The waitress takes the empty pot of coffee and then walks back to the kitchen to get what you asked for.

“Alright, what about you?” Brian asks as he rests his elbows on the table, hands under his chin as he turns his attention back to you. “Name and fun fact.”

“I’m Reader,” you begin, not noticing how their expressions shift slightly. “And a fun fact about me?” You take a moment to consider what you’re going to tell them before divulging into one of your hobbies, drawing. You mention the alcohol markers your father gave to you on your last birthday, your twelvth.

The three men listen to you attentively all the while holding a conversation in their heads.

‘Holy shit, you never mentioned that this was the Wraith’s kid-’ Toby’s voice hurriedly exclaims through the mental connection he shares with his teammates.

‘She can’t be right,’ Brian tacks on. ‘This can’t be his kid, the man didn’t have any kids,’ Brian jumbles out. On the inside, he is screaming, but outwardly, he shows he’s happy to be listening to you.

Tim mentally scoffs. ‘Now you know why I’m so horrified,’ he grumbles in a very lightly annoyed tone. He knew the Wraith, your father. He was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed by human ones.

When Tim first received the news from the Slender Man that he was taking in the Wraith’s child, he almost passed out. The responsibility of taking care of not only a child, but a legend’s child? He saw the light and it was NOT as beautiful as people make it out to be. You are his responsibility first and foremost, whether he wants this or not. He watches you with furrowed brows, only to find that during the

The night begins to dwindle on, and it’s clear that you’re getting sleepier. Besides, the table knows that you’ve probably never stayed up until midnight and it’s nearing that odd hour. The IHOP is almost completely empty, but every now and then stragglers come in to have a cup of coffee and hashbrowns. It’s a slow night.

“You’re looking tired,” Brian says softly as he watches your eyes lid.

You fling them open and shake your head. “I’m not tired at all,” you pout. You cross your arms over your chest, but the position proves to be too comfortable and you’re already nodding off again.

“Yeah, we’re calling it a night,” Tim says as he begins to get out of his seat. “Hood, cover the money. I’ll bring her to the car. Toby’s driving.”

“May the gods have mercy on our souls,” Brian wheezes under his breath as he reaches into his pocket to find his wallet and pay.

Toby lightly slaps his teammate’s shoulder before pushing in his seat and stretching slightly.

You watch with weary, tired eyes and slowly begin to drift off in your seat, barely even noticing how Tim carefully scoops you into his arms.

He’s able to pick you up like you weigh nothing, and really, you don’t. At least, not to him. He holds you as gently as he can and begins moving to exit the IHOP as softly as possible, not wanting to wake you. He doesn’t doubt that you’ve had a rough time leading up to this paired with the fact your father is dead too.

Toby opens the IHOP’s door for Tim who is still carrying you and then clicks open the car as well. “W-Why don’t you h-hang out with h-her in the backseat? We h-have quite the d-d-drive until we make it t-t-to Alabama,” he suggests as he opens the back doors of the car behind the driver’s side. He then moves to allow Tim to do his work before slipping into the driver’s seat.

Tim hums thoughtfully before nodding. He gingerly sits you into the car before carefully prying your backpack off before dropping it softly to the floor of the car. After that, he puts your seatbelt on and closes the door gently, once again, to not startle you awake.

He then walks around the back of the car and gets into the passenger side’s back seat and puts his own seatbelt on, exhausted and wanting to take a nap himself. He absentmindedly watches the doors of the IHOP to see Brian waving good night to the staff in the building before he heads over to the car where Toby brings it to life.

“She asleep?” Brian asks as he takes his spot in the passenger seat.

“Yeah,” Tim replies quietly. “Quiet from here on out and head talk,” he finishes just as softly before Toby begins to drive out of the parking lot.

You stir a bit as the car moves, mostly staying in a sitting up position until Toby finally enters the expressway heading down south to the temp house that the Slender Man wishes for them to essentially ‘raise’ you in. Your body falls as he turns onto the long stretch off road and you remain sleeping, head now resting on Tim’s lap.

Instead of moving you, he chuckles quietly to himself and then reaches in the back, groping around for his jacket until he finally finds it. Once in his hand, he drapes it over your small form. He watches you for a moment or more before relaxing back in the seat himself, quietly succumbing to sleep alongside you.

Toby and Brian watch him from the rear view mirror, ghosts of smiles on their faces.

You wake up late the next day. A groggy glance at the car’s clock shows that it’s almost past 2 in the afternoon. Goodness, you’ve never really slept in like that before! You shoot up, clearly startled.

“Nice to see you’re up,” Tim says in a slightly teasing tone as he stops gazing from out the window. “Really tired, huh?”

You nod slightly and allow your body the time to wake up. “I guess so?” You reply in a slightly embarrassed tone, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “Where are we going?”

“Alabama,” Brian answers as he glances at you from the rearview mirror. “Gonna be living there for a little while.”

“Why’s that?”

“The Operator wants us to be closer to him while you grow,” Tim says before he turns his attention back out the window.

When you give him a confused look, Tim relents, drops his shoulders and takes in a deep breath. “Alright, listen up, this is gonna be a lot.”

You look at him with stars in your eyes.

Tim begins to weave to you a story of the culture and society you are now expected to integrate into. He tells you of the Slender Man, or as you are now expected to call him the Operator's origins. He tells you of a similar being named Zalgo, and it is with him that the Operator tirelessly fights against. It’s an eternal battle that he, and everyone else in the car, doubts will be won or lost in your lifetime.

Tim tells you of proxies, those who serve directly under the Operator and what their purpose is. They are the ones who are held dearest and nearest to his heart and have the privilege of being on the top in this society. Proxies are cold, calculated, and tend to not have free will because they are so blinded by the Operator’s light. Still, there are some instances in which proxies retain their humanity - and that is what makes them simultaneously and strongest and weakest lengths in the hierarchy.

Then there’s the independents. Those that are, as the name implies, independent. While they can come and go as they please, but are still considered the Operator’s children because of how often they work with him. They also benefit from the Operator’s presence and protection, so they too are part of the hierarchy, they have not devoted themselves entirely to him and are considered lesser than proxies. In the Operator’s vision, they are more expendable than his direct children, but more than outliers.

Outliers are the beings that have little to no business with the Operator and do not directly benefit from his influence and protection. They are the blacksheep and scapegoats of the culture you are just learning to swim in. A good chunk of outliers are removed from the society all together on account of them not having exact higher thought, feelings and mentality. They are monsters, cryptids, the things who cause harm but do not think. There are some outliers that are exceptions to the common stereotype of what an outlier is, but they retain that status due to being stripped of an independent title. They aren’t even allowed most times in proxy spaces, but independents tend to welcome them with open arms.

Afterall, both independents and outliers know what it is like to be on the losing side of a classist divide.

Tim also tells you what he knew about your father. Known as the Wraith, he moved like a ghost and struck fear in his victims to the point of spellbinding paranoia that could land them under hospitalization. He made them lose their minds, slowly, painfully, until they were but a shell of what they used to be - a mockery of whatever came before. Your father was a damn good proxy, revered and respected. To hear of his loss was mourned across all three classes, as he was surprisingly fair and just in his treatment of those of lower social standing than him, even going so far as to attempt friendlier outlier contact between the other two, more cognitive groups.

Time and time again on the trip to Alabama, you are reminded that your father was a good man by proxy standards, and flawed in the eyes of humans.

And you can’t help but agree even though what you’ve seen from your father thus far has been minimal at most. You love him in the way any child would love their shadow.

“I only ever really saw him for special occasions,” you begin to explain, eyes focused on the passing trees, hand out the window as you guide it like an airplane as Tim drives the car. They’ve been shifting drivers every other hour now. “He was so kind and warm,” you continue, voice soft and fragile, fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. “I wish I could have known more of him.”

You get the sense that your teammates agree.

“Y’know,” Tim begins. “He would be pleased to see you’re taking up this mantle of his.” He throws you a supportive glance from the rearview mirror. “I remember him being worried he’d thrown you into a life where you’d come out the other end hating him. But, from what I’ve heard, you accepted your blood with relative grace.”

You feel a heat rise to your face as you focus on how the air glides over your hand, lifting it like a bird. “Yeah…” You trail off with a semi-awkward chuckle.

Tim throws you a knowing glance, smiling softly before turning back to the road.

You arrive in Alabama sometime during the night. The car, which was being driven by Toby once again, pulls into a house somewhere off the beaten path and mumbles about the foliage before he turns on his brights. The place looks relatively spooky, but in a very picturesque way. He continues driving on the uneven terrain before finally reaching the front porch of the house.

There, two men are sitting and talking. The one in the white hoodie looks up from his conversation with the blue masked man and waves, stepping down the first two steps to meet your group halfway.

Toby breathes out with a chuckle and turns the car off. “W-Were you g-guys waiting here a-all day for u-us?” He asks as he exits the car, twirling the car keys in his fingers before tossing them over to Tim, who catches them like second nature.

“Anything to see our favorite cannibal and hurricane of a being,” Brian lightly ribs, making the man in the white hoodie grin and the blue masked man chuckle.

Quietly, you get out the car and round it so you’re near Tim, mostly eyeing the two men with adrenaline coursing in your veins. The appearance of the man who is paler than the moon frightens you just a bit.

“Who’s this little sunflower?” He asks as he turns his attention from almost play fighting with Brian and Toby to waltz over to you. He’s just as imposing as everyone else and leans down slightly to match eye level with you.

“She’s W-Wraith’s k-kid,” Toby hums as he crosses his arms over his chest, head turned slightly to gauge how you’re feeling.

You look up at the clad in white man and attempt to smile. “Hi, I’m Reader, who are you?” You ask softly, still not entirely comfortable in his presence.

A grin begins to light up on his face. “Jeff. Jeff the Killer.” He crouches down and holds out his hand to you.

You grip onto Tim’s forearm, hiding behind him like you did with your mother when he nods that it’s okay for you to say hello.

“He won’t bite, not while I’m here,” he says in a reassuring tone. “You can say hi,” he gently encourages.

You shyly hold your hand out to the man you now know as Jeff and shake it, amazed that he feels like a still smouldering fire. “Killer?”

Jeff suppresses a giggle and nods. “That’s right. Your father was a good one too,” he compliments before letting your hand go. He then turns his head over his shoulder. “EJ, stop being a wet blanket and come say hello to the sunflower.”

The man on the porch scoffs before slowly getting up from the stairs. He stretches slightly as he walks over. His mask startles you as he comes up to you. He does not crouch down to meet you like Jeff did. “I’m EJ.” There’s no warmth in his tone, but he holds his hand out regardless.

Jeff rolls his blue eyes and elbows Eyeless Jack’s ribs. “It’s a kid you dickhead, not a patient,” he hisses before elbowing him again. “Try that again.”

Your group laughs slightly in response, but Eyeless Jack obliges his friend.

“Hi, I’m EJ.”

“What does that stand for?” You ask as you take his hand into yours, shaking it. Your other hand remains firmly planted to Tim’s forearm. He’s just really comforting for you in such an uneasy situation.

You notice Eyeless Jack give Tim a slight look, almost asking if he could do so before getting a very reluctant nod.

“Eyeless Jack.”

“You have all the grace of a drunken sloth” Tim sighs.

“What? You said I could be real.”

“No lead up? You just?”

“Masky, you know I respect you more than most proxies, but you’re literally going to train her for this stuff. There’s no use in beating around the bush. Look,” the grey skinned man pauses for a moment and begins to slip his mask off.

You watch in deep curiosity as you look upwards, wondering what he looks like. When you get your answer, your curiosity grows. Though, it shows up as a shocked fear despite that not being what you feel.

“You okay, Reader?” Tim asks softly as he looks down at you.

“You b-b-broke the kid,” Toby says with an eyebrow raised, leaning in the doorway of the temp house before Brian shakes his head with a stupid grin, heading into the house to set things up and properly accommodate everyone’s move in.

“Yeah, because he’s so ugly-”Jeff is barely able to say before you cut him off.

“You are so cool!” You suddenly exclaim, small hands reaching upwards to Eyeless Jack’s face and to signal him to come down so you can see him better.

Eyeless Jack’s stoic face blooms into a smile as he crouches down almost instantly, a heat rising to his cheeks over the compliment.

You immediately leave Tim’s side to look over the grey skinned man’s face, fingers gently brushing over his cheeks. “What is this?” You ask excitedly, clearly referring to the inky black tears that waterfall from his eyes.

“Some goop that comes from my eyes when my body decides I need to eat the food most of you don’t,” he explains, holding back his amused laughter at how gently you touch him with all the wonder a child can. Normally, Eyeless Jack would not let anyone touch him, nor would he let a stranger get remotely this close to him, but he’s admittedly charmed with you.

“Jeeze, Masky, you never told us Wraith’s kid wasn’t a psychopath,” Jeff teases slightly as he rests his forearm on Tim’s shoulder.

“To be fair, I didn’t know either - we really haven’t spent too much time with her,” he chuckles warmly as he watches you brush your fingers through Jack’s hair, amazed that the texture is so soft despite it looking scratchy and a little dry. “Okay, Reader, that’s enough petting EJ,” Tim says as he rests his hand on your shoulder. “I think our uh, meat eating friend needs to get some food in his stomach judging by how many tears he’s producing right now.”

“Do I have to?” You ask as you step back from Eyeless Jack, allowing the tall man to stand up and recompose himself.

“Yup,” Tim replies, popping the ‘p’. “Besides, it’s late and I’m not messing your sleep schedule up anymore,” he finishes as he nods for you to head into the house.

“Will we see these two again?”

“Of course you will,” Tim says as he begins leading you into the house, waving goodbye to the two men who are about to head out into the woods. “You have all the time in the world,” he hums, pleased you made a good impression on some of his society's most prominent figures at the moment.

You turn over briefly and smile widely. “Bye! I hope to see you soon!” You bid before finally being ushered into the house by Tim.

Both Eyeless Jack and Jeff wave back, smiles on their faces.

“See you soon, sunflower,” Jeff murmurs to himself.

A pregnant pause comes between the two best friends.

“You see what she’s doing to him?” Jeff absentmindedly chuckles as he and Eyeless Jack begin to travel into the darkness of the woods.

“What a softie,” Eyeless Jack agrees.

“Takes one to know one,” Jeff retorts.

The two laugh.

Tim spends most of his time teaching you and that’s only because the Operator keeps sending out his teammates over him. It’s probably just how the tall man wanted it. You soak up information like a sponge. Everyone can see it.

He teaches you everything he can. For instance, the proxy hierarchical role is strict and considered one of the most respected of rules. Group leaders are leaders because the Operator says they are, but it can also be taken by force. That normally doesn’t happen though. Group leaders hold the responsibility of ensuring their proxies are taken care of, and if they are new, properly integrated into the society. That’s what he’s currently doing with you.

Next up comes the right hand. Not every group has a right hand because some group leaders are paranoid or jerks and cannot learn to trust, but it is highly recommended group leaders have a right hand. This group’s right hand is Brian, or as you know him, Hoodie. Right hands provide guidance when group leaders are conflicted, and can step in on behalf of their leader depending on the situation. They are to be just as respected and revered and can be the stand in should a group leader be missing. This role is not given, it is asked.

Then come what Tim lovingly refers to as ‘the middle children’. Those are the proxies that aren’t group leaders, right hands, or runts. They are the ones who just exist as part of the group unit. They have no significant power but are allowed to participate in the hazing process. ‘Middle children’ tend to pop up when runts outgrow their runt status or a new runt takes their place. It is possible to have multiple ‘middle children’.

Runts are the lowest in the unit. They are the newest in their group, but not always the newest or least inexperienced. If you are traded amongst groups, you become a runt, but in such cases as this, the hazing process is nowhere near as brutal as it would be for those who are inexperienced and coming into the proxy life for the first time. Because runts are usually in an initiatory stage and still learning, they must be bent and broken until the group leader says there is no further need. Runts are often the lapdogs of the group and tend to do everything the rest of the group does not want to do. They are considered the most expendable.

The hazing process is something that you are exempt from. Tim told you it was because you are a child, and he is not a child abuser. Still, after learning of the hazing process, you admit that you feel sick to your stomach. The hazing process is brutal in every sense and can sap the life out of the proxies it affects. Everything goes when a runt is in the process, from mental, emotional and physical torture. Depending on the group leader, the process will last anywhere from a few weeks, months, to even years.

You are thankful you are exempt.

Tim teaches you more and more as the months go on, and still, with stars in your eyes, you soak up information like a sponge. Technique is something he’s always testing on you, and it plays like a fun game.

“I’m going to wait upstairs and read,” he says one morning. “Maybe get some other work done. Wait down here for however long you need, and tap my shoulder without me hearing you. Stay silent as possible. If I hear you, you lose.” He then gets up from the kitchen table and heads upstairs, coffee cup in hand before he heads into the study.

You watch Tim leave and furrow your brows, your heart racing. So far, he’s drilled stamina into you, basic self defense, and other things young proxies might need but this is the task that makes your heart palpitate. You hear him open the study door and half way close it before he settles in and begins reading.

You don’t want to rush into this. So, you take your time, just silently moving from the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs, that task in itself taking until the afternoon. You don’t want to mess this up.

You hold your breath as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. Even though it’s carpeted, you don't want any part of you betraying your stealth. You wait at the bottom of the stairs, inching up step by step until you finally reach the top.

The sun has set by the time you wait outside the wall in front of the study door.

You hold your breath as you quietly step into the doorway - and you see it - Tim has flinched. Hopped up on adrenaline, you take your time and slink your way behind him before finally tapping him on the shoulder.

He doesn’t jolt, but he turns around and smiles widely. “Good job!” He compliments, standing up and stretching his limbs. He’s been sitting an entire day, after all. “I’m really proud of you.” He pats the top of your head and you see it in his eyes- he’s actually super proud of you.

But he flinched when you waited in the doorway.

He knew.

Still, you accept this victory with grace, wondering what else he might teach you.

Tim teaches you so much as you grow older under his care. Though one of the most monumental lessons was after you took a life for the first time at fourteen. He had wanted to wait until you were sixteen, but the Operator demanded it.

You’ve learned so much knife skills from him, weaponry in general, but nothing he could have taught you would have prepared you for what it means to take a life.

The two of you had just gotten through interrogating a man who really did not deserve to live. He had been blubbering for the past few hours, and Tim was exhausted from trying to weasel information out from him.

“Ghost,” he addresses, his masked face looking at you with budding amusement. “Finish this for me.”

“What?” You say. You know what he means, you just don’t want to actually admit it.

“Finish him for me,” he shrugs. “It’s about time.”

“I don’t know how?”

“Sure you do,” he hums. “You have your knife and I know your skills are more than good,” he says as he rests his hand on his hips. “You could also shoot him. We’re in an area where no one would even care about a gun going off. Or, you could brutalize him,” he trails off as he lists off the ways you could end a life like items on a grocery list. “I don’t know if you have enough power for actually brutalizing him though,” he jokes slightly, lightly slapping the man’s face to keep him up. “Y’hear that, bud? You got lucky. If it were up to me, I’d break off your limbs one by one and tear open your chest letting you see your beating heart.”

The man’s eyes go wide as he squirms helplessly.

He’s not getting out of this one alive.

You awkwardly look at Tim. “What… What do you suggest?” You ask quietly.

Tim’s eyes dart to your gun. “For your first time? Clean and fast.”

Obliging your group leader’s words, you take out your gun and flick off safety. The hardest part is looking them in the eye. You raise it and point it at the man’s forehead, eyes narrowed from behind your mask.

The man is pleading with you, tears streaming down his face.

“Always pull the trigger..?” You begin, attempting to buy some time.

“On empty lungs,” Tim finishes.

You pull.

It’s almost a little sinful to admit how easy murder has become after that moment. For the next two years, you and your group began going out on more missions as a unit. Your power had grown immensely, and the Operator’s point was beginning to show through.

The younger the proxy, the more efficient they become as they grow. He knows children are plastic, and you are his living proof that success must start young. Still, he watches you grow carefully, and Tim keeps his boss in the loop with every little milestone you hit.

First it was ten confirmed kills, then twenty five, and before you knew it, fifty. Fifty confirmed kills before you were sixteen.

Tim himself has grown rather fond of you in ways that no one else has - though, you are easy to get along with. Besides your group regularly spending time with you and falling deeper and deeper in love with you as their little one, Tim has become what you always envisioned the shadow of your father to be.

He’s the first to greet you in the morning and the last to wish you good night. He spends most of his waking hours with you, and it’s a good memory every single time. He trusts you immensely, and in turn, you trust him. Admittedly, he’s always had a soft spot for you and that much is apparent and always has been.

Tim has always been there for you when it all feels like too much.

“It’s nothing,” you mumble as you curl deeper onto your bed, sheets over your head.

“What happened?” He asks in a serious tone, clearly not wanting to play games.

“I said that I’m fine-”

“Bullshit,” he says as he marches into your room, ready to tear off your blankets. He knows teenagers are prone to giving the adults in their life hell, but you’ve never done this until, well, now.

You’re clawing to keep your blankets on but your strength pales in comparison to Tim’s. You screech as he finally tears the blankets from you, expecting full anger but instead, a look of horror.

“What the-what happened to you?” He asks in shock as he looks at the large red claw marks on your midsection and legs. It looks like you fought off a bear. “How long have you been like this- this is dangerous, you could get infected!” His tone is only loud because he’s scared. He wastes no time in scooping you up into his arms and rushing to the bathroom to tend to your injuries.

You hiss in pain but keep your lips tight, not wanting to admit what happened.

You let Tim work on you and disinfect your wounds as his emotions finally come down to a normal place. You realize it’s because he cares about you, but you’re still worried that he’s going to flare up again.

“Are you ever going to tell me what caused this? Or am I to believe some poltergeist waltzed in here and cut you up?”

You avert your gaze from the only solid father figure you’ve ever had. “I… I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you mumble.

“What?” He sounds genuinely confused, as if he didn’t hear you correctly.

“I snuck out late at night and got attacked by the notdeer,” you speed out again, face burning with embarrassment.

You see a plethora of emotions pass over Tim’s face as he applies another bandaid to one of the more minor cuts on your leg before he settles on relief. “Holy shit,” he breathes out as he drops the products he had been working with. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes out as he takes you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can without causing any pain to your body that is still healing.

You feel tears well in your eyes as you hug him back.

Your skill grows so immensely, that your group and the Operator trust you with going on one of the most high stakes missions he’s ever sent modern proxies on. He hasn’t sent you a group on something like this since… Goodness, the 1700s? It’s been a while.

The Operator asked you to hunt down Zalgo’s favored son and kill him. It sounds easy in words, but in practice, near impossible.

“He’s sending us on a death match,” mumbles Brian. “I-What do you guys think? Are we ready?”

You and the other two shrug, not knowing what to say. You just know that you will be following Tim’s lead, as he is your group leader and the man who matters most in your life.

“I’m a-a-apprehensive,” Toby hums. “But, I t-t-think with our collective t-talents, we m-might have a shot.”

Tim looks at you, wanting to know your input when you hesitantly nod. “Guess we’re going.”

Finding Zalgo’s son was easy, but pinning him down was anything but. Everything had gone so smoothly up until it was time to face off with him, the man of the hour.

Toby and Brian were preoccupied with fending off Zalgo’s proxies who were placed in the house to keep his favored, most beloved son safe, and you and Tim had managed to slip in.

It was just the two of you with Zalgo’s son, and he was beating the two of you close to death.

“I’ll ask again,” his smooth, velvety voice growled. “Who do you consider the most expendable in your group?”

When neither you nor Tim answer, the child of Zalgo screams in frustration and rage before barrelling towards you, grabbing your weakened body and throwing you into the large stained glass windows.

Due to the sheer force of how hard he had thrown you, you tumbled out onto the grassy lawn, air stolen from your lungs. You laid on the ground gasping like a fish out of water before slowly attempting to crawl back in and help Tim.

Your fingers hoisted you up through the broken windows, allowing you to see what was going on inside. And it horrified you.

Zalgo’s son was holding Tim up by his neck, choking the life out of him.

“Who is the most expendable?” He demands again.

“I’m… not..!”

“TELL ME-”

“Fuck you-” he barely manages to wheeze out.

You’re panicking, wondering what you can do to help him when the son leans in exceptionally close.

“Say it.” He tosses Tim’s body to the ground, watching as he weakly attempts to get back up.

“R...Reader,” he admits. “She’s the most… She’s the most expendable,” he coughs out, blood and other things being released from his damaged system. “You already threw her out-”

“So you wouldn’t mind if I ended her now?” The son taunts, eyes shifting to the stained glass windows where he hurled you out.

Tim shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m saying-” he cuts himself off by coughing more. “I’m just saying she’s not prepared, she’s still weak-”

You feel your heart stop. You listen into his thoughts, he’s emotionally vulnerable, and see that he’s telling the truth. There isn’t any second thought that’s telling you he’s fibbing to buy time.

“You don’t trust her?” He inquires, bending low, ready to choke the life out of Tim again.

“I don’t,” he weakly says. “In fact, she’s due to be transferred from us soon-” he’s cut off by the son laughing and lifting him up again by his throat.

The son looks over his shoulder to see tears streaming down your cheeks. “And you call me a monster,” he cruelly laughs.

It’s cut short by Toby and Brian breaking down the door, shooting the son with his father’s favorite gun.

Tim is once again dropped to the floor, and Brian rushes to help him.

Toby leaves their side and sprints to the window to help you. He sees you're crying. “W-What’s wrong? W-Where does it h-h-hurt?” He asks, worry lacing his expression as he helps you back over.

You shake your head and refuse to say anything.

The car ride back to your temp house is awkward at best and downright uncomfortable at worst. You are sitting in the passenger seat because you refuse to sit next to Tim who had admitted something you weren’t really supposed to find out.

And the other two men, both Toby and Brian know it too.

‘Is it true?’ You ask the right hand, looking emptily out the window. The lights that pass overhead are counted as mental busy work.

‘Reader,’ Brian’s voice sighs. ‘I… I’m really sorry,’ he says. ‘I fought him on this, but… But being a proxy isn’t easy-’

‘So you’re abandoning me?’ You ask, tears threatening to fall from your eyes again. ‘You’re gonna leave me in the hands of some strangers because I’m not good enough?’

Brian sighs deeply and glances at you briefly as he continues to drive. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘I don’t accept it.’ You shift in your seat and curl up, not wanting to even look at your group. They’ve basically broken your trust, but hearing it from Tim? The man you viewed as most important in your life? The man would talk to you over cups of coffee on the rooftop before the sun came up? The same man who had once said you were the child he was never allowed to have?

He called you weak. Expendable. He has said you are not worthy of his trust.

The first time your anger boiled over was a few days after downing Zalgo’s son. It was just the two of you in the living room, your other two teammates out on other errands. Every day felt like a ticking time bomb of when you will be released to another group.

“We need to talk,” Tim says.

“About?”

“What… What I said back then.” He still has marks on his neck from the son attempting to choke him to death.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He sighs deeply. You have every right to be mad at him. “It’s not that simple,” he starts. “I never meant for it to come out like that,” he says with a frown, eyes not entirely meeting you. He attempts to explain further, but you don’t want to hear it.

You get up, waving him off. “Shut up.”

“Reader-”

“Shut. Up.” You storm upstairs.

The fights do not get any lighter. They say time heals all wounds, but in your case, it exacerbates them. It becomes a nearly every day affair now.

Words are shot like bullets into the house that used to be built by the loving relationship you had with Tim. But, ever since he uttered those words and dug his heels in deeper over the fact you were actively challenging him, you drifted further and further from him.

Toby and Brian try to stay out of those conversations. They both care about you, but at the same time, they understand that being a proxy really isn’t easy. You get jumbled around, shaken up, and sometimes, traded. While no one is replacing you, the fact Tim agreed to let you go was what hurt the most.

According to Toby, he never even fought for you.

You leave them at the same diner you met them at. Sixteen years old and ready to be in the hands of another group. You sit in the passenger seat of the car, eyes empty, and heart torn.

“Do you want us to come in with you?” Brian asks with a small smile.

You shake your head. “No.”

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “I…” He pauses, and when words fail him, he leans over in the driver’s seat and wraps his arms around you. You hug back, realizing your beef isn’t with the right hand and allow tears to well in your eyes. He presses a kiss to the side of your head. “It’s going to be quiet without you,” he mumbles. He looks at you with all the adoration an older sibling might as he lets you go.

Toby, has gotten out of the car at this point and walked around the front, opens your door and leans down.

“No, let me,” you say softly as you unbuckle, grabbing your backpack and whatever else you may need before stepping out. Once you’re standing, you find yourself tangled in Toby’s arms.

“I h-hate goodbyes,” he admits as he sways the two of you.

You hug him back and smile softly. “I’ll be seeing you, yeah?” You mumble as he squeezes you tighter.

He nods. “Y-You better!” He laughs, not allowing his thinly veiled choked up tears to enter his voice as he lets you go. Toby checks you over once more, nothing but love in his eyes as he reluctantly takes your place in the passenger seat. You can tell he’s bitter over finally having it back.

Tim is in the back seat, passenger side. He looks at you through the window of the car, eyes red and puffy. He wants to say so much to you and nothing at all.

You share in the sentiment, nod slightly and fight cursing him out again, then head into the same place you met them in. Ready to be a part of a new group. One that hopefully, will not doubt your abilities as a growing proxy.

When you head in and walk out of their lives, Tim’s mask falls, and tears begin to roll down his cheeks. He feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s suffocating and can’t even think clearly.

“Fucking drive,” he coldly hisses as he takes in deep, labored breaths.

Brian, not wanting to fight his leader and understanding the man hasn’t been this emotionally broken since Jay’s death, obliges him.

Tim watches you greet your new team, and his heart breaks all over again.

You’re now twenty years old. My how the time flies. You are more than an established proxy now, and your new group treats you as such.

There’s four of them, your new family.

A group leader named Wallace, who is fair but kind. A right hand named Theo, who is a nightmare in proxy form. A ‘middle child’ named Ruth, who vaguely reminds you of your mother. And finally, an independent by the name of Nyein.

They’ve been good to you over the years you’ve known them, and you can tell they genuinely love you in their own way. You feel like you can tell them almost anything and everything, but everyone has skeletons in their closet and you are no exception.

It’s Wallace’s job as your group leader to understand his proxies and be able to understand them at all costs. He doesn’t mean to pry while it’s still fresh.

“So, how are you doing this fine evening?” The deep voiced proxy asks as he joins you on the balcony of the hotel the five of you are currently staying in.

“I could always be better,” you answer. When you sigh, he gives a knowing hum. “What?” He shrugs. “Pardon my reach,” he begins. “But, Timothy…”

“Too early,” you cut him off.

“Right, my bad,” he apologizes. “We can always come back to this later.”

You huff.

Ruth inquires about it next. She’s gentle in her approach, and you almost spill it all to her, but the pain of what happened ices you back over.

“I understand that you and your previous group went up against Zalgo’s son?”

“Yeah.”

She gently moves some of your hair behind your ear. “How did that go?” She sees your expression fall, and she frowns. “So that’s what happened,” she hums, not even needing you to say what happened directly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you say. “Not like you contributed,” you mumble. “He didn’t want me.”

Her hand rests on your back, silently telling you that you can always find comfort in her.

Theo asks in the most brash manner he can. He doesn’t really care about feelings or making people uncomfortable, but he does respect you.

“So, Masky traded you like pokemon cards huh?”

You throw a decidedly hard punch at him.

“Take that as a yes.”

“Are you fucking with me?” You groan in an exasperated tone.

“If it fires you up so your punches stop feeling like taps, sure,” he grins. “Come on, let it out. What did that bastard do to you?”

You answer him with harder punches.

Theo doesn’t respect Tim, but it’s not like he ever respected him to begin with.

Nyein honesty doesn’t ask. They don’t want to make you uncomfortable and they refuse to push your boundaries. They know something hurtful happened, and they understand that pain is carefully guarded for a reason. The only time they ask anything in regards to what hurt you from before was when you were preparing to meet up with your old group for what was ‘lovingly’ dubbed a collaboration.

‘You’re sure you’re okay?’ They ask, cocking their head to the side.

“I’ll be fine-”

‘I know you’re lying,’ they sign with a frown. ‘I can smell that on you, y’know?’

You chuckle and push lightly at them. “If anything isn’t to my liking, you can always eat Masky.”

Their face lights up.

The news that you and your previous team were going to be working together was hell on the ears. In fact, you heard it, and found yourself panicking over the fact you might need to see Tim again. According to Wallace, yes. Tim was still alive and well.

“He looks older though and more depressing,” the blond haired man chuckled. “Fuckin’ hate Timothy.”

Theo rolls his eyes but turns to you anyway. “He’s right on the old and depressing thing.”

You take that thought in and sigh.

Time to face him again.

You and your group decide to meet Tim’s on the edge of the town you all will be invading. Something about mass recruitment and taking out multiple targets. You all know it’s busy work and the Slender Man likes to make you suffer, but it gives you some time to talk until the sun sets.

Ruth and Nyein immediately overtake some time waiting by swarming around Toby and sharing giggles. Wallace and Theo (who may or may not have been talking to Tim prior to this) have run off with Brian to also just talk.

They’re not always at each other’s throats.

That leaves you with Tim.

You’re currently sitting in a grassy field, plucking flowers from the earth and taking in the sweet scent as the sun slowly makes its way to bed. You’ve spent a good portion of time alone, and when Tim finally makes his appearance, you do not stir. You do not acknowledge him.

It’s uncomfortably silent when he takes a seat near you, but not close to you.

“How have you been?” He asks quietly, almost as if he’s scared you’ll take flight again.

It’s been four years, you can reply without anger overtaking your system.

“Decent, like any proxy,” you answer, eyes still honed in on the flowers and how the remaining golden shafts of light filter through the leaves and change the color to something delicate and pure. “And you?” You’re just asking as a formality, not because you actually care.

“The same as you, I suppose,” he answers back, his voice still soft.

Another silence passes until you finally get the urge to look over at the man you once viewed as a parental figure.

Your eyes almost water when seeing him. He’s older now, much older. Still has that kind of youth that comes with being the Operator’s play thing, but he’s sad. His eyes are dark, devoid of light, and soft as if he’s barely holding it together. He still smells like cigarettes.

Tim is the first to speak, a sorrowful smile on his face as he takes in a deep breath and looks at you with an adoration that never truly left. “You look older,” he notes, taking note of how you grew into your looks. You don’t look like that scrawny little preteen anymore. He knows that you’re a young lady now, and he only wishes he was there to see it. “I like it.”

You bristle on instinct. “I don’t need your approval-”

“I know,” he sighs as he turns his gaze up to the clouds that pass overhead. The skies are the faintest of pink and purple. He thinks it’s pretty.

“You look… Older too,” you finally say, feeling awkward and at home all at once.

Tim chuckles quietly under his breath. “Yeah,” he hums. “I’m in my thirties.”

For some reason, it makes you giggle.

He lights up at the sound of your laugh.

When it dies down, the two of you remain in silence, just letting the world pass by as the sun sinks lower and lower. It’s peaceful, nowhere near as hostile as you were originally expecting it to be, and you find that you enjoy the overall experience.

Still, there is a nagging thought in the back of your head. One that reminds you of everything that has happened, and it still stings. It is the wound that will never heal.

As if he was reading your thoughts, Tim breathes out again and continues looking up at the slowly darkening sky. “I really am sorry for what happened,” he apologizes once more. “I was sorry back then, and I’m still sorry now.”

You frown and knit your brows together in confusion. “You… You just let me go, like I didn’t matter.”

“I know.”

“Tim-”

“I can’t undo that,” he says. “But… But I can try that now-”

“Please no-”

“I have better credit in the Operator’s eyes, maybe we could-”

“No-”

“I could ask for you back-”

“That’s enough.”

Your eyes are dark and you can feel something unpleasant bubbling in your chest and throat. When you had first been placed in Wallace’s group, some part of you had some naive childish dream that Tim would come back, take you in his arms and prove that he wanted you and was truly the right sort of man to have as a role model in your life. That dream never came true, so you stopped having it. You let it die and get returned to the earth. You let it drift away.

But at the same time, you wonder what would be different now - if you could even accept being taken back into his group. Would that even be healthy? It took Wallace and the others months just to get you to stop waking up in tears, nearly on the verge of losing your guts through your mouth and to stop you from panicking when one of them said they had to go out. It took them months to get you to even remotely let down your guard on your abandonment issues.

They’d been so patient with you. They watched you grow.

But here was Tim. Sitting next to you in the world’s most beautiful flower field extending an olive branch, wondering if he could ever atone for his sins by asking for you back and making you a part of his group again.

And that makes you wonder, is he doing this because he misses you, or because he feels bad?

The sun sinks below the horizon, and the moon begins to rise in the sky.

An uncomfortable silence falls between the two of you.

You have a job to do, and some things?

Well, they’re better left unsaid.

[wandawillkill312]

Standing in front of her was a male Demon, in his early twenties wearing a boxy blazer that was half black and gold, while the other half was made up of semi-dingy-yet colorful patches with various designs and symbols, on each of them- this side also had scalemail embroidery made from old coins and doubloons and subtle gold Prince/Napoleonic military designs and decorations- including a few badges and medals pinned to the front, of the black side and a beautiful bright copper rose boutonniere, pinned to the lower lapel.

This was opened-up and worn over big silver waistcoat with black buttons, buttoned up over a white dress shirt and a red bowtie.

Not to mention; he also wore a burnt copper leather belt with a gold buckle, a pair of big and loose black jeans with hanging red and white striped suspenders, a pair of white leather gloves and a pair of semi-big, polished, caramel-tan and bright copper, hard leather boots with double-knotted gold and red striped laces and brass bottoms.

Over his head, he wore a full-headed, fireproof, hi-tech and mechanical helmet the size of a large, pumpkin-sized, onion-shaped, mascot head with secure wires connected to moving metal gears, motorcycle chains and facial joints, 2 small baseball field headlights acting as “eyes” and a sharp bear trap-like mouth with 2 rows of razor sharp and semi-jagged scrap metal and steel teeth, formed into an evil Cheshire cat grin.

The helmet was covered in large amounts of fireproof stuffing-filled, stitched-together rags made from weathered and flesh-colored hard rawhide leather, burlap, latex, rubber, plush fabric and felt.

It was made to look like a sinister combination of a Muppet Human’s head, a ragdoll's head, a calavera skull and a voodoo doll's head- complete with large amounts of makeup and rockstar facepaint applied in a slathered-on fashion, moveable metal eyelids and built-in big and moveable Lexan bubbles painted to look like creepy puppet eyes, over the fieldlight ones, a big red metal triangular nose and a full-headed, large and thick sewn-on wig of 24 wild and crazy, shoulder-length, red and fiery orange dreadlocks made from large amounts of yarn, leather strips and long, braided and dyed human hair- about 8 were decorated with colorful beads, gold rings, psychedelic bands and both hunting knives and long spearheads at the ends.

A makeshift crown made from sheetmetal, scrapmetal, jewelry and metallic gold wrapping paper was part of the helmet and protruding from the left-center side of his “hair” in a jaunty angle, like a chimney.

Finally; he wore a set of male high roller jewelry.

All of this complemented his tall, skinny-athletic figure- though his suit made it look like, he was large.

"Charlie?" He asked, in a distorted "Scott Menville-esque" voice.

((Yes. This is Patchwork- or "Paddy", if you want Charlie to call him that.))

@pumpkin-frappe

It was a nice day at the Happy Hotel, when Nifty approached Charlie, Vaggie and Alastor.

"Charlie, there's a guy in the lobby, who say he knows you." She said.

((You're Charlie and Vaggie, in addition to your OC.))

[battery-forgot]

Now, I come mid-week to give you all of my DSMP/MCYT headcanons because I have many

Don’t mind if these are repeated, misspelt, or has no logic, it is block game things and I am not checking over them-- and some will be organized, and some will be random, some might not have a Enter space because these are all ctrl c + ctrl v’ed from a Discord server I am in :]

Skeppy headcanons: Skeppy is 4 billion years old as scientists have thought that is how long ores and diamonds existed for

Skeppy's species is pretty rare

Every diamond that is broken or damaged causes Skeppy to feel a physical pain in his body

His species has lamp tail as they don't have night vision, some of them also have tiny wings that aren't usable, though they can kinda glide short distances with them

Because of his small height, he has taught himself magic to be able to change size, it can hurt him if he goes taller than 5'3, but he is able to get to Foolish's height if he tried

Sometimes random crystals grow on Skeppy's face, though they look different from normal crystals and can be used for things like explosives, though he doesn't know about it

Techno has seen Kristen but doesn't remember it well, though Kristen gave him his crown as a gift

Techno has a collection of skull masks that he has worn, he wears the skulls because of nostalgia now but he used to wear them because he thought they were cool and made him look threatening

Technoblade, Skeppy, Sam, Ranboo, Michael(the son- not Michaelmcchill), Phil, Bad, and some others really like shiny and golden objects

DreamSMP theme/"timeline" is kind of like a steampunk like thing

Drista is DreamXD's sister and DristaXD is Dream's "sister", though they aren't really siblings as they are robots

Drista and DreamXD are clones of DristaXD and Dream, though they actually look nothing alike

Callahan is a mute mini-god that everyone knows exists but doesn't really understand they are a mini-god. They kind of just chill and do what people ask them to do

Phil: Phil is more into traveling than anything else

Though he doesn't mind being a father figure, he doesn't think he is a good one especially after he killed Wilbur

He is able to turn into the size of a crow, though since his wings are now unusable, he doesn't do it as often as it is basically useless

Phil sometimes takes bird baths, though I guess they are always called that-

He has bird legs/talons,but they aren’t fully noticeable

joke headcanon I thought of is that Phil's handwriting is chicken-scratch because he is half-crow

Phil has really good memory, as a crow would

-DreamXD is actually pretty weak in powers, but he acts like he is the strongest person in the server

-Tommy's eye is just completely gone from when Dream killed him, but he covers it with an eyepatch

-Tubbo talks about things to Ranboo thinking he'll forget them, but some stories Ranboo remembers but doesn't speak about it because he doesn't want to make Tubbo worry too much

-Philza wasn't willing to kill Wilbur so Wilbur forced Phil by grabbing his arm and impaling himself

-Dream and Techno sometimes share stories about having ADHD

-Phil didn't really know about Fundy, he knew he existed but had no idea to how he acted, looked, or his actual name

-Wilbur had a letter written to Fundy about how he was sorry for what he was gonna do during November 16th, but the withers blew it up before Fundy knew about it

-Fundy doesn't let anyone hold his hand because it makes him remember the past where he would hold Wilbur's hand a lot

-Change of headcanons: Schlatt and Puffy are cousins, Tubbo was just a random kid that would follow Schlatt for hours a day, waiting for him to acknowledge him

-Dream jumps into the lava in the prison as it reminds him of Sapnap

-Bad was uncomfortable when Sapnap married Big Q and Karl because he went on a date with Quackity before but he still supported them (Yes I know Big Q basically had a divorce with Sap and Karl--)

-Skeppy knows a lot about other's pasts because of how old he is, even traumatizing facts

-Skeppy has a fear of fire (Pyrophobia) and he is kind of scared of Sapnap

-Dream used the revivebook on the cat Tommy killed, but Sam killed it thinking Dream would use the cat against Sam to escape quicker in the future

-Dream doesn't *fully* know why he is in prison, ever since Tommy and Tubbo killed him, a wire/chip broke in his body which made him forget a lot of things. Dream does get told what he had done a lot, but it makes him almost have a panic attack because he thought he was a pretty good person

-Ghostbur is Callahan, they were commanded by DreamXD to become Ghostbur so that everyone could feel like he was still there (Callahan can change who they are completely, but they don't actually know how they acted when as Ghostbur, though that doesn't mean he didn't know what happened, when Dream killed/revived Ghostbur, Callahan got to see what it felt like to die for the first time)

-Fundy has the habit of picking up things and using them at some sort of fidget (examples: knives, leaves, grass, wood, pencils, berry stems, etc.

-Ranboo will be writing/saying something about someone and use pronouns instead of their name or just with the person's name (example: "Puffy she/her was--" or "he/him writing down things") [Basically canon-]

-Tubbo used to headbutt people but stopped after around 2 years because he kept hurting people

-Phil used to squawk randomly when he was a kid, but he mainly just squawks when hiccuping now

-Even though Bad used to get really nervous picking people up because he was afraid he was gonna drop and kill them, he now just picks up everyone randomly... except Foolish and Ranboo

-Foolish is able to shrink to around 7ft, and unless he is building a big build, he will shrink so he can get around easier

-Because Ranboo is only half enderman, he isn't the full height of an enderman (He is only 8'5)

-If someone asks Charlie about his pronouns, out of confusion, he just responds with "Bones!" which sometimes leads Las Nevadas members (or just anyone really) calling him by He/it/Bones

-When Bad was being controlled by the egg, it made him get even more flashbacks about how his species was supposed to act which would end up with him panicking because that isn't who he wants to be (bonus: The more a member infected by the egg would panic, the more the egg would be able to take over the person because they can't focus)

-Kristin has taught Phil how to do makeup in their free-time of hanging out

-Kristin is insanely tall, if she shrinks then she turns more transparent, so she ends up looking more like a ghost when at average height

-Skeppy can't cry, though he still can feel sad

-Bad and Eret talk to eachother quite a lot

-When Tubbo was around 11-14, he would make redstone contraptions, though he doesn't remember how to make most of them now

Ranboo doesn't like photoshoots because he feels like everyone is staring at him, though this does mean he just doesn't have a passport photo, his alternative was to draw what he looked like on the passport but they didn't allow it, as well as Ranboo doesn't really remember what he looks like anyway because they don't like looking in mirrors--

I think this is half-canon but another headcanon is where every SMP is just an island far away from others. In this case, Hermitcraft, 30 day SMP, and other SMPs are all linked up, as for people who are in multiple SMPs, they travel around by boat for awhile, now, the thing I've just not figured out is how tf their look magically changes-like- outfit is decently obvious-- but do they magically transform like an anime girl? Idk- 

Skeppy's voice randomly glitches out, is there an actual reason for this? No.

Quackity’s outfit is similar to Sub Urban’s (In Freak)

Skeppy acts as if he is royalty, he doesn't act rude or demanding unless joking- but he does act as if he is the superior person-

-Skeppy and Slime are the only "people" that don't have steampunk styled clothing because of how old they are

-Skeppy's hair grows insanely quickly and no one knows why, he honestly hates it

-Most of Skeppy's outfits have been made by Bad or Puffy

-Skeppy knows DreamXD as if he is a brother, but he despises him because of something that has happened around 3,000 years ago

-Skeppy has a lot of different shades in their hair on the "inside"(like- the side where his neck is is what I mean, I don't remember if it has a name or not-)

-Like I've said before, Skeppy's eyes are crystallized, but they are somewhat transparent, not enough to where you'd be able to see the inside of his head, but they are still transparent

-In the past, Skeppy didn't like their name which is why they called himself "Skeppy"

-He has an attachment to caves

-When Skeppy was a kid, they had the dream of him filling cave walls with houses of their own

-Skeppy goes by it/they/he

-Skeppy joke flirts with Bad all the time to confuse everyone, Bad doesn't like it because then everyone thinks they are dating which makes him feel a little uncomfortable

-Out of boredom, in the past, Skeppy would climb on the roofs of caves, hang upside down, and try and sleep like a bat

-They have no blood in his body, it is literally just a diamond covered with a thin layer of skin and hair

-Skeppy gets stressed out easily when it comes to learning because it just reminds him of everything he had to get used to as the billion of years he lived went by

-Skeppy used to not be allowed out into the open world, the first time it experienced going outside was when it was 2 billion years old

-Skeppy has accidentally caught things on fire during the day because of the reflecting of the sun, but even then, they are nocturnal so they don't really have to worry about it

-Wilbur adapted to hanging out with Sally in the water, he has some gills, but he can only breathe underwater for a bit longer with them

-Skeppy always has the equivalent of Diamond (armor) except when he was infected by the egg, he was equivalent to the strength of a Ruby

-Infected Skeppy has a redstone glow when touched, so when hugged(or hive fived- or- yeah you get the point), he would give a subtle glow around him until let go

-The Eggpire still can be controlled, but they are able to control it unless angered/upset

-Skeppy was 6ft when infected, now he is 3′9 un-infected

-At this point, Dream likes the prison because he sometimes feels safe there, like no one can hurt him

-DristaXD is more of a ghost robot than an actual robot

-DristaXD's hobby is murdering people and has basically been in some sort of jail before, she has broken chains around their ankles and hands, it seems to have been made of a really strong material as wel

-Sapnap used to have fire wings, but when he had to get extinguished, they disappeared, they are still there, they just aren't visible until dunked in lava and Sapnap can't use them anymore

-Infected Bad still took care of Sapnap, but Sapnap never cared

-Sapnap takes the name "lava cake" too seriously... though he thinks the literal lava cakes he makes taste good

-Puffy's hair has been dyed blue by Ghostbur before because he wanted people to remember Friend if they ever disappeared

-Going with my Ghostbur as Callahan hc, when Ghostbur was killed, Callahan kind of glitched between realities and so Ghostburs body glitched from Callahan's body and Ghostbur's then just disappeared. Callahan is still alive but they randomly glitch into different realities, he has glitched into places Karl has gone, including The Inbetween.

-When Ghostbur was glitching back into Callahan after killed, it shocked and concerned Dream

There you go :]