#as well as if they were based on a version of themself from a particular song

[meikostan]

[lensman-arms-race]

Polycephaly's spa day (~6k word fic)

Everyone's favourite mardy TILF is in need of some tender loving maintenance. Luckily, there's someone up to the task.

This story is for @luciledrakkhen because she has been so encouraging to me and her own works give me so much compost for my brain-worms! I was inspired by one of AO3 user HotCoffee1984's stories (I don't think they're on Tumblr) in which Polycephaly gets Very Soggy - it made me think of how satisfying it would be to clear all the silt and gunk out of them!

(The human in this story is called Rochester simply because I liked how it sounded. It's not a reference to anyone or anything in particular. And yes, Rochester is a little tribute to LucileDrakkhen's human Vex.)

AO3 version

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Polycephaly was thoroughly soaked and thoroughly pissed off about it. They could feel the awful sensation of sloppy grit and silt falling down inside them, and the feel of wet clothing clinging to their plating wasn't particularly pleasant either. A change of clothes would be nice, but there was little point if they were simply going to ooze wetness and grime and soak the next ones too. Polycephaly most wanted to just lie down and recharge for a bit, but they'd need to get their charging port dried out first. (And they didn't fancy the prospect of inevitably having to clean all the grime and slime off their bed.) Repairs were needed.

"What the shit?" said one of the techs as Polycephaly wriggled into one of the repair bays. "You're a fucking mess."

Polycephaly felt like flipping the middle finger, but restrained themself - no point antagonising anyone who was about to open your plating.

The tech displayed an ellipsis on their screen, indicating they were thinking hard. "A moment. I need to make some calls." The tech went away through a door that Polycephaly couldn't fit through. Dammit.

Polycephaly backed out into the corridor. No idea how long they'd have to wait - might as well wait in the space where they could stand. A little puddle was building up around their shoes. A message arrived on Polycephaly's communicator: "One of your repair techs contacted me. Port to my co-ords for check-up. R." Who was this R?

Polycephaly docked their communicator to their tablet and put the latter into GPS mode to find the site. (It wasn't actually GPS, of course. That system had been run by one of the human militaries and was either downed or under Skibidi control by now. But the name had stuck amongst the Alliance.) Polycephaly expected it to be one of the TV faction's outposts, but to their surprise this was clearly a Soundkind base.

Well, that made sense, once Polycephaly thought about it. They were their faction's only large unit, and most of TV Base's facilities weren't suitable for them. Polycephaly usually had to go to the Titan's hangar for repairs and servicing, but the cleaning equipment for the Titan would actually be too big for Polycephaly. The Soundkind faction, on the other hand, was packed with large units. It stood to reason that their bases would have cleaning bays that could accommodate Polycephaly.

Polycephaly turned widdershins and stepped sideways from reality into the void. It was near-impossible for most TVs to port somewhere they'd never been, but Polycephaly wasn't most TVs. They wetly unfurled their stems, dripping silty and salty water, and cast their screens in multiple directions, scanning for the snarl of void-pathways that would take them to their destination. Polycephaly elegantly 'fell' through a few layers of the void, landing on the pathway they needed.

Polycephaly sped along the pathways, snapping along right-angled branches, until they neared the Soundkind outpost. They dived one layer deeper so they could navigate with more precision, like a Soundkind switching from long-range to short-range echolocation, and slid elegantly to a halt. There was a crude barrier-web set up here to deter skibs with stolen teleport-tech from exiting the void here and storming the outpost, but it was no obstacle for Polycephaly. They emerged from the void and beheld the outpost in a little mountainous valley. A poor location for defence, maybe, but great for acoustics. Polycephaly entered. They appreciated not having to duck to fit through the front entrance.

Luckily, Polycephaly didn't have to wait long - someone had evidently been posted to await their arrival. A Soundkind unit waved to them. "Here for maintenance?" the unit said. "I've been told to accompany you to the repair centre. Come on - sooner we get there, sooner you can get back to the field."

Polycephaly followed the Soundkind. They appreciated that the Soundkind sensibly hadn't wasted their time with empty pleasantries, as non-TVs were wont to do. And they appreciated the Soundkind not being awestruck in the presence of an elite unit. It was somewhat flattering when people did that, but was its own kind of tiresome. Polycephaly appreciated less the reminder that their services as an elite agent were always in demand and everything was go, go, go.

The pair walked to the repair centre. Polycephaly could tell that the Soundkind was furtively trying to 'echo' them - chirping at them to build up an echolocation image to better supplement their poor image processing. Polycephaly let them.

"Here we are," said the small Soundkind. "Rochester will get you sorted, I'm sure." Ah - so that was what 'R' stood for. The Soundkind departed, and Polycephaly entered.

"Bloody hell. I won't ask what happened to you," said an odd-sounding voice. Was this Rochester? "Clothes off, if you would. I can see you're going to need a thorough detailing inside and out. Drop 'em over there; I'll have someone wash them."

Polycephaly began to undo their garments, and cast their mind around for the yes-I-live signal of the voice's owner. There wasn't one - was this someone speaking through a tannoy? Or had this unit installed a signal dampener for stealth?

To Polycephaly's surprise, the voice had come from a human. There were a few of them working for the Alliance, but they were a rare encounter. Seeing one always brought mixed feelings for Polycephaly. It was nice to see that some humans were still unskibbed, but the sight was a reminder that their species was functionally extinct... and that humanity's annihilation was the reason for Polycephaly's existence. If not for the skibidi plague, there would have been no reason to create large combat units.

"Oh, you are proper muddy," said the human. They had a shock of dyed-green hair, with matching green eye-shadow upon one eye. Upon the other, a black eyepatch emblazoned with a green 'X'. "I quite like dealing with mud. Sluices right off when it's wet, and brushes off when it's dry. Have a lie down on the cleaning bench, I'll get you sorted."

The human had-?! No, they appeared to have four arms... Polycephaly realised what they were looking at: the human had the normal number of arms for a human, plus a couple of artificial ones sprouting at their back from a mechanical exoskeleton. The exoskeleton wrapped the human's torso and their legs - perhaps boosting the human's lifting power, Polycephaly speculated.

The human also wore a thick black furry collar - glamorous, but impractical for repair work, especially as it was oddly warm with infra-red... Until it moved, and Polycephaly realised a long-haired black cat was draped over the human's shoulders. The cat re-positioned itself as the human moved, as though the cat was well used to doing this.

Polycephaly protracted their stems with a horrible sloppy-yet-gritty sound, like someone with terrible table manners dunking their grissini in a cheap pot of hummus. They set down their sub-screens on the floor before detaching them, then lay down on the cleaning bench - sized for a large Soundkind and perforated with drainage holes along its length.

The cat sniffed the air, then jumped off Rochester and trotted over to the cleaning bench, before jumping up and sniffing at Polycephaly.

"Hello, little creature," said Polycephaly. "Oh, two of you." Another fluffy black cat emerged from under the bench and jumped up to join the first.

"Braaaaa," said one of the cats. "Neuuuuughhuuaaa. Ao. Prang? Yack."

"They're interested in you because you smell fishy," said the human. "They're hoping you have a pilchard in your pocket for them."

"What do you call them?" asked Polycephaly.

"Their names are Wurdalak and Walpurgisnacht," said the human. "But I call them Bitey and Shouty."

"Prang? Prt?" said the talkative cat. Polycephaly guessed that one was Shouty.

"...I didn't ask who you were." Polycephaly realised. "I take it you're the 'R' who messaged me?"

"The very same," said the human. "Name's Rochester. I already know you're Polycephaly - you're pretty hard to mistake." Rochester pulled out a selection of plastic scrapers and rubber brushes from one of the many pockets of their overalls and held the tools in a fan like a pigeon's tail while they perused them. "I'm going to give your plating a cursory scrape before I open you up. No point opening you up right now and dumping more filth inside you. I'll get your plating properly clean later, don't you worry. Now, you let me know if I'm poking too hard or being too rough, okay?"

It was rather adorable that the human - Rochester, Polycephaly reminded themself - thought they might hurt the large TV, but Polycephaly appreciated the concern. They realised they hadn't answered Rochester. "...I'll let you know." 'Might as well be useful' thought Polycephaly, and gestured for Rochester to pass one of the tools so Polycephaly could remove some of the mud and silt themself.

"No, you lie back and let me work," said Rochester. "I'm the one who's paid to do this. You can just go ahead and relax."

"They'll be expecting me back," pointed out Polycephaly. "Might as well speed it up."

"No they aren't," said Rochester. "I've booked you in for the full eight hours."

"Shit," said Polycephaly. "Do I really need that much work? ...I feel filthy and knackered but not in need of major repairs."

"No, it won't actually take that long," said Rochester as they continued to slough mud and silt off Polycephaly's plating with their brushes and spatulas. "But... no-one at TV Base needs to know that."

"Wow. Crown," commented Shouty the cat.

Polycephaly thought about what Rochester had said... and left unsaid. It would be expected of Polycephaly, as an elite agent whose skills were always in demand, to make themself available for missions again as soon as possible. Rochester was urging them to take a break for the sake of it. Polycephaly surely needed it, but they felt guilty about it.

"Truth be told," said Rochester, "I'm a fan. Of you, I mean. I've seen your work on many of the broadcasts. Your team put out the call to the Soundkind for use of our cleaning bays, and I couldn't believe my luck! I cleared out my calendar and made sure to get that ticket assigned to myself." Rochester scraped some gunk off Polycephaly's side, and moved to begin cleaning one of their stems.

"Mind my stems," Polycephaly said. "They get a little sensitive."

"Of course," said Rochester. "I'll be gentle as I can. Let me know if it gets too much." The human selected a brush with rubber bristles and used it to dig under a clump of something nasty and lever it off. Polycephaly admired how the human used their exoskeleton arms to hold tools in place and pass them to their normal arms. The action reminded Polycephaly a little of their own stems.

"I was expecting you to just blast me with the hose," Polycephaly admitted.

"As if," said Rochester. "I'm giving you my full treatment, hot wax, the works. When I'm done, you'll look fresh off the factory floor."

It occurred to Polycephaly that Rochester was probably taking a break themself. They'd mentioned 'clearing out their calendar'. It was expected of Polycephaly that they'd make themself available for missions as soon as possible - was it also expected of Rochester that they'd clean Polycephaly as soon as possible and make themself available for more appointments? Maybe Rochester was getting overworked too, and recognised that they both needed this. ...Well, Polycephaly would take it.

"You work for the Soundkind?" asked Polycephaly.

"Sometimes," said Rochester, raising their voice to be heard better. They were currently clearing muck off Polycephaly's legs. "I travel wherever I'm needed. Though... I think the Soundkind and their bases are more fun than the Cams. Don't tell them I said that though. I haven't been to any TV-controlled locations though. You lot are secretive." (Probably another reason that Rochester wanted to meet Polycephaly, the TV mused.) "Sit tight for a sec," Rochester continued, walking back towards Polycephaly's head. "You're a big bugger. I'm going to need a booster."

The human moved away and came back pulling something on wheels. It was a platform on wheeled legs that could span the width of the cleaning bench. Rochester would be able to sit or stand on it and reach Polycephaly's midline from above. The human wheeled the bridge over the bench, and there was a clunk as the bench slid into rills on the floor that would stop it sliding from side to side. Rochester adjusted the bridge's height using its hydraulic controls, then climbed one of the ladders at each end and resumed their work. "Try not to sit up," said Rochester.

Rochester finished de-gunking the area of plating they could reach, then moved to dismount from the bridge.

"Shall I move it for you?" asked Polycephaly. They guessed Rochester was getting off the bridge so they could slide it along the length of the bench and work on the next bit of plating.

"Oh, would you?" asked Rochester. "Towards your head end, if you would."

Polycephaly pulled the bridge further towards them with their hands and two of their stems, and Rochester resumed cleaning.

In this way, both worked in tandem, Rochester directing Polycephaly where to slide the bridge next, until Polycephaly's front was clear of filth.

"Time to turn you over," said Rochester. "No doubt that bit on your back has all mud stuck in it."

Rochester dismounted the bridge and moved it along so Polycephaly could roll over unimpeded. Through the holes in the cleaning bench, Polycephaly noticed that a conical pile of muddy sand had built up on the floor under where their aperture had been. Evidently gravity alone had done some of the work for them. Polycephaly revolved their head so it was still facing upwards - its 'scoop' made it impractical to lie face-down.

As Rochester got to work poking brushes in Polycephaly's back-aperture, Polycephaly tried not to squeak. It did feel good, having that area cleared out. It was hard for Polycephaly to reach inside by themself - they normally had to get a normal-sized unit to help them out with pulling out anything stuck in it, which always stung Polycephaly's pride a bit. It shouldn't do, Polycephaly reminded themself. The TV faction was supposed to be pragmatic, always taking the most sensible course of action. It just made sense to get a smaller unit, who could actually reach inside, to do the task. But it always felt odd, being an elite agent who was expected to excel at difficult mission without complaint, having to ask for help with a mundane task.

"Right, that's the worst of it off," said Rochester. "I'm not going to make your plating pristine just yet because I'm sure there's more where that came from."

As Polycephaly rolled into a supine position again, Bitey the cat took a swipe at the brush Rochester was holding. The human took a clean brush out of their overalls and threw it to the floor for Bitey to menace.

"Myaaa," commented Shouty.

"Next stage is to get your plating opened," said Rochester. "Are you happy for me to continue?"

"It's what I'm here for, isn't it?" replied Polycephaly.

"I wasn't sure if it was a scary prospect," said Rochester. "There isn't really a human analogue for this process, so I don't know how it must feel. I didn't want to go ahead and open you if you weren't ready for it."

"You've done this before?" Polycephaly asked.

"I have, on large Soundkind," said Rochester. "You're my first TV client. ...I actually don't have the specific tool for opening your plating. It might take me a couple of minutes; reckon I'll need to use the large Soundkind tool with a couple of shims."

"That's something I can help with." Polycephaly lifted one of their stems and pushed the geminus connector - the 'grabber' at the end that normally fitted into a sub-screen - into their own charging port. They performed the twisting motion that would normally be done by a mechanic with an unlocking tool, and the locks in their plating detached.

"Well, there's a thing," said Rochester admiringly. They moved to put their hands on Polycephaly's plating, and raised their head to meet Polycephaly's gaze, clearly about to say something.

"Go right ahead," said Polycephaly, correctly guessing what the human was about to ask. "I'll help you with it; I'm a hefty fucker." The way Polycephaly's plating was hinged meant that regular techfolk mechanics were supposed to be able to open it manually for maintenance, but Polycephaly guessed it might be slightly harder going for a human.

Rochester and Polycephaly worked in tandem to open the front plates on the big TV's torso. They elegantly folded into themselves and outwards from Polycephaly's body at the same time, like the wings of an otherworldly metal insect. The human and the TV did the same for the layer of frame-rig under the exo-plating; Rochester undoing the clasps from the endo-struts and Polycephaly pulling the rig plates right out and setting them on the floor with their stems.

"I'm going to pick out any big chunks of mud and detritus I can find and brush off any dry dust," said Rochester. "Then I'm going to disconnect the power in your body so I can safely sluice you out with a wet clean, and put your head on external power. The external power source in here has a UPS and a back-up generator. Are you okay for me to start?"

"You're the professional at this," said Polycephaly. "Why are you asking me?"

"Seems kinda rude to start rootling around in someone's innards without asking first," said Rochester.

"...I appreciate it. Thank you." Mechanics would normally just start their maintenance on Polycephaly without asking. They appreciated Rochester re-assuring them about the uninterruptible power supply too. Polycephaly hadn't been worried about it, but the human's concern was touching.

Rochester put on a pair of safety goggles and a dust mask - Polycephaly guessed it was in anticipation of possibly splashing mud and silt. "Oof," said Rochester as they inspected Polycephaly's innards. "Looks as though a family of poos moved in and died of exploding. ...But nothin' ol' Rochester can't handle."

The human got to work, slinging some tools onto their belt for ease of access. They used some tongs to pick out any solid pieces of matter they could see, flinging them over their shoulder to the floor. It was quite a hypnotic sight as Rochester worked with both their meat-arms and their exo-arms in tandem. "Gotta pull out as much as I can so I don't wash it into any hard-to-reach places inside you," Rochester explained.

Was Rochester narrating because they thought it would re-assure Polycephaly, or were they one of those people who found it helpful to narrate their tasks to themselves to help them concentrate? Polycephaly realised they didn't mind either way.

Polycephaly realised they were relaxing a little. Rochester's touch was reassuringly competent... and it felt rather nice to be told to just lie back and relax and let someone else do all the work for a change. It was a little uncomfortable for Polycephaly having their innards exposed to the air, but it did feel good to have the grit and sludge removed. Rochester was now using a rubber brush to poke out some detritus from a gap, and occasionally using a little air-jet nozzle attached to a compressor to blast out dried silty dust from crevices. Polycephaly could hear Rochester pushing the compressor around with their foot and stepping on its foot-pedal to turn it on and off.

"Do they keep you busy here?" asked Polycephaly the next time Rochester turned the air compressor off.

"I'll say," said Rochester. "It's all worth it, though. Gotta do what we can. That's all anyone can ask of us." The human pushed a long rubber brush like a pipe cleaner into a gap to disturb some seaweed. (Polycephaly wheezed a burst of static and squirmed, then immediately tried to pretend they hadn't.) "What about you? I assume you're busy as arseholes."

"...You're not wrong," said Polycephaly. "I suppose... it's not so much that I don't have enough downtime. I have at least as much as any other agent. But it never fucking feels like enough. You know?"

"Is it..." Rochester paused to think of words. "Is it that you've got lots of time but it's all chopped up into bits? Like pieces of string too short to do anything useful with?"

"...That's exactly it."

"It's why I made sure to block off the next few hours for you," said Rochester.

"Thank you," said Polycephaly. "It's thoughtful of you."

A couple of Soundkind workers entered with a bin on wheels, and began loading Polycephaly's salt-encrusted clothes into it. Two more dropped off what looked like a bale of fabric.

"Borrow these," said one of the Soundkind. "Should tide you over until we wash yours."

"Nice one, thanks." Polycephaly guessed the Soundkind were lending them some clothes meant for one of their large units. It would no doubt be an odd fit, but better than being naked. Techfolk had nothing to hide, of course (except those who chose to install certain mods on themselves), but they felt exposed with nothing covering their plating.

Rochester gave the Soundkind a thumbs-up as they departed. "Right then," said the human. "Next move is to put just your head on external power so I can switch your body off. You won't be able to access anything stored on your hard drives while I do that."

"I'm sure I'll manage."

"It's up to you," said Rochester. "I can temporarily clone the drives so you can still read the contents while I work?"

"No need; it's fine." It was sweet how the human was so concerned about Polycephaly being comfortable.

Rochester put a circuit-blocker - the techfolk equivalent of local anaesthetic - into one of Polycephaly's components and clicked a sequence of switches to activate it. With Polycephaly's pain response disabled, Rochester got to work undoing the mechanical connectors guarding Polycephaly's cabling that routed power between their head and body. By design, there was enough redundancy in the connections that Rochester could disconnect one and re-connect it to external power without Polycephaly perceiving any interruption.

"Scary part next," said Rochester. "I've got to take out your capacitors. If they discharge, that'll be bad times for both of us."

"Just fuck me up," said Polycephaly. "...Oh, that feels bizarre." It didn't hurt as Rochester removed their capacitors, thanks to the circuit-blocker, but it was a sensation that they hadn't expected to feel.

Rochester brought out a jar of paste and a little rubber spatula for applying it. "No, not for you," they said to Bitey and Shouty, who had noticed the jar and hoped that it contained kitty treats. "Now I'm going to put some of this quick-drying paste on some of your more delicate connectors so I don't trap moisture in them and short them out. Same with your coolant caps - don't want to get water in your coolant pipes."

"Weck," Shouty apparently criticised Rochester's application technique. Bitey jumped up and draped themself over Rochester's shoulders.

"Don't get too comfy," Rochester said to the cat. "Gotta take a deep dive in a sec." Rochester addressed Polycephaly: "Thanks to your stems, this next part's going to go easier than normal. I'm going to remove part of the aperture from the inside, so you'll temporarily have a hole in your back. Then I'll hose your innards down and let all the waste-water fall out of your back."

"Do whatever you need to. You know what you're doing. And I'm used to mechanics telling me what's going to happen. Do you need a lift down?"

"If you would?" replied Rochester as they stepped onto the cleaning bench.

Polycephaly brought their stems in and positioned them to form a makeshift little 'ladder' for Rochester to step down and enter the big TV's body cavity. The human did so, stepping in and sliding their way between the tyvek-like membranes that contained Polycephaly's moving parts and prevented any cables getting snagged. It was a surprising sensation for Polycephaly - how much lighter a human was than a techfolk! And soft, but not insubstantially so.

Rochester found their feet on the inside of Polycephaly's back plating, and crouched down, squirming past piping and membranes as they did so. Polycephaly chirped with surprised static (and was very glad there was no-one else here besides Rochester) at the sensation of Rochester taking out part of their aperture - and again upon realising one of the cats had jumped inside their body cavity.

"Rule zero of techfolk maintenance," said Rochester as their head surfaced from between some membranes. "Make sure you can see both kitties before you close anyone's plating. Can you give me a boost out?"

Polycephaly brought in their stems once more for Rochester to help lever themself out.

"Thank you," said Rochester. "Right, hosepipe!"

That was clearly a word known to the cats - the one inside Polycephaly's frame scrambled out, and went to join the other cat (that was currently licking its hoop).

"Get your sippy," Rochester said as they held out the sprinkler-head on the hose for the cats to 'mlem' at the falling droplets. After the cats had quenched their thirst, Rochester brought the hose over to Polycephaly.

Polycephaly braced themself for the inevitable blast of cold and wet all over their innards (the circuit-blocker blocked only pain, after all)... and was startled by the warm shower that came instead. "Oh... that's not fucking bad," said Polycephaly. "I was expecting you to turn it on cold blast."

"Oh, I always wash with warm water," said Rochester. "It decreases the chances of metal parts contracting and pulling out of shape."

Oh, it felt so nice... Polycephaly properly relaxed, their servos un-tensing, and they felt their innards run clean as the silt and grit sluiced downward and fell away to the floor. They emitted a soft static sigh and lost themself in the soothing sensations for a little while... Polycephaly sighed again, then remembered their surroundings and flinched slightly at their own display of vulnerability.

"Don't hold back," said Rochester. "I see a lot of techfolk like this and it's my favourite part of a cleaning job. That part where you properly relax into it and stop feeling self-conscious, and allow yourself to just be. That's when you see a person as they really are."

Polycephaly considered Rochester's words as they allowed themself to relax a little more into the cleaning bench.

"You're used to having to put on a brave front all the time, aren't you?" Rochester said quietly (briefly pausing the flow of water so their voice wouldn't be drowned out.)

"...That's right." Polycephaly conceded. "I appreciate what you're doing for me." The big TV allowed themself to really relax and let Rochester work. The warmth was pleasant, and the constant flow of water made them feel clean and was surprisingly refreshing.

Eventually, Rochester had rinsed off all the marine muck. "Time to get you soaped up and de-greased, and then dried," said Rochester.

"Anything you want," said Polycephaly, a little drowsy from the warm wash.

Rochester applied de-greaser to a microfibre cloth and began rubbing it into Polycephaly's innards, using their fingers to poke the cloth into all the gaps. "Look how revolting," Rochester said, showing Polycephaly how stained the cloth had become. "You really needed this. Let me know if you feel water pooling anywhere; I'll get it all out."

Polycephaly lay back and dozed. It did feel good to have all this attention on them, and they could feel Rochester's work doing them good, as the airflow around their parts cleared and they felt lighter from all the detritus coming off them. Polycephaly realised that the cats had joined them, one curling into each space between Polycephaly's arm and body. Their warm weight and fuzziness was so cute!

"Aww, they can sense you're relaxed," commented Rochester.

Polycephaly realised they'd drifted into semi power-save mode, and Rochester had almost finished cleaning out their main innards. They really had needed this... Polycephaly enjoyed the feeling of Rochester cleaning the insides of their plating, wiping down each of the tyvek membranes, and unzipping each one to clean inside them too.

"Thank you," said Polycephaly once Rochester withdrew from them and began putting away the de-greaser and throwing the microfibre cloths into a laundry bin. Polycephaly made to push the bridge away and sit up.

"Ohh, you think we're done?" asked Rochester.

"I'm clean now," pointed out Polycephaly. They lay back down anyway.

"Sort of," said Rochester. "But I'm a professional, and I don't settle for less than the best. Now comes the detailing."

"Why? No-one's going to see it," replied Polycephaly.

"I'm going to see it," said Rochester. "And as for why... you deserve it, don't you?"

"You know what? I absolutely fucking do."

"You do so much for the Alliance," said Rochester. "As I said, I've seen many broadcasts with you in them. And that's just what someone happened to record! I'm sure there's more. Now, let's make those aluminium parts shiny again." Rochester began scrubbing with a wire brush on the aluminium surfaces to buff out the stains.

"Are you getting tired?" asked Polycephaly. "You've been at this for a couple of hours at least."

"I would be if not for the exoskeleton," said Rochester. "Helps these bones. Plus I did have a quick snack break when you were asleep. Ohh, that silver colour's so nice-looking against the black."

"What's that?" asked Polycephaly as Rochester brought out a tube of something.

"Toothpaste," said Rochester. "Actually a very good cleaning aid. Made to remove organic matter, and gently abrasive. Same for toothbrushes. When I've worn out a toothbrush, I demote it to household cleaning. Don't worry, though - I only use new toothbrushes for cleaning techfolk. I wouldn't use one that's been in my mouth."

Polycephaly let out a static buzz that was almost a purr, as they felt Rochester clean out parts of them they didn't know they had. Eventually, Polycephaly felt they couldn't possibly get any cleaner. They probably hadn't been this clean inside when they were first activated. "Am I finally done?" they asked.

"Nope," said Rochester.

"What could possibly be left?"

"Re-touching these labels." Rochester indicated the bevelled lettering on some of Polycephaly's components. The human got out some paint markers and began re-applying the pigment.

"Now you're just showing off," said Polycephaly.

"Oh, no doubt," Rochester said amiably. They moved on to peeling off the putty they'd applied earlier to prevent water seeping into some delicate components. "In I go," they said as they climbed into Polycephaly again to re-do their back aperture.

"Thank you, Rochester," said Polycephaly as they gave the human a hand out. "Are you finally finished?"

"With your insides, yes," said Rochester. "Help me close you back up, then I can give you the hot wax I promised earlier."

Oh, that was an exciting prospect. Polycephaly hadn't experienced that before. They'd thought the human was just exaggerating for comic effect before. But now, after experiencing Rochester's gentle thoroughness, they were thoroughly looking forward to what was coming next. "Oh!" exclaimed Polycephaly. Then more quietly, "Ohh..."

Rochester spread the wax in circular motions, the pressure just right... Polycephaly leaned and flexed slightly into the touch, enjoying the spreading warmth, and the further pressure as Rochester buffed it off.

The human used their exoskeleton arms in tandem with their own ones, working into a rhythm of applying and working the wax and cleaning it off. "Oh, your trim is looking so good," said Rochester. Their work with the hot wax was bringing out the colour of Polycephaly's plating - its deep black and its purple trim and gold circuitry. "It's brightening the purple and deepening the black. ...That's as far as I can reach from here. " Rochester got back onto the bridge so they could reach Polycephaly's midline again, polishing around their charging port and their inert core chamber (built as a prototype for the Titan's own.)

Rochester got down from the bridge and rolled it so it was no longer spanning Polycephaly. "Roll over so I can do your back too," said Rochester. "Mind the cats."

Polycephaly obeyed, being careful not to disturb Bitey and Shouty - but the two cats left anyway.

"It's nothing you did," said Rochester. "It's just how cats are." The human pushed the bridge back into place and began waxing around Polycephaly's back-aperture.

Polycephaly hadn't felt this relaxed in weeks. Back-rubs were probably their biggest weakness, and it was hard for Polycephaly to reach inside their own aperture and clean it. Had Rochester guessed that? ...Polycephaly was too dazed to care either way. Their speakers practically purred, and they realised they didn't care if Rochester heard.

Rochester finally finished the hot wax treatment, and Polycephaly heard them dismount from the bridge and roll it away. "I'll do your head now," said Rochester as they gathered the cleaning tools they'd need.

Polycephaly remained lying on their front - it was comfy and they were in no hurry to move - but rotated their head on its bracket so it was facing directly forwards instead of upwards, the better for Rochester to clean the screen.

"That's a neat trick," Rochester commented when they returned and saw Polycephaly's bizarre head positioning. They squirted some cleaner onto a soft cloth and began cleaning Polycephaly's screen. The human worked hard as ever but seemed to be flagging a little...

It didn't go un-noticed by Polycephaly. "You doing alright?" they asked, keeping their voice quiet so as not to overwhelm Rochester at close range.

"I am getting a little tired," admitted Rochester. "We're almost done, though."

"I've got you," said Polycephaly. They reached out with their hands and their stems to form a 'cradle' for Rochester to lean back into. They did it without offering first, out of fear that the human might be too proud to accept if asked. '...Oh, am I projecting?' thought Polycephaly.

"Oh, you are sweet," said Rochester happily, working their cleaning cloth into the border where glass met casing.

"...That's such a good touch," said Polycephaly with a purr in their voice. "There's something about the way you absorb my static that really hits the spot."

Last of all, Rochester polished the chrome of Polycephaly's head-bracket. "That's you done, finally," said Rochester. "Let me out, would you? I need to take my exoskeleton off. It does help me, but working with it this long makes me a bit ache-y."

"There you go," said Polycephaly softly, releasing the human from their 'nest'. They admired the two cats, snoozing nearby, while Rochester removed their exoskeleton and peeled off their overalls. The human looked older and tireder without them.

"Thank you, Rochester. You've done me a lot of good," said Polycephaly. "...I didn't realise how much I needed that. ...It was smart of you to book me in for the full eight hours. I think I need a nap."

"Got you covered," said Rochester, correctly guessing what Polycephaly would need and bringing over the end of a charging cable. Luckily, Polycephaly used the same type of connector as large Cam and Soundkind units. Many things about Polycephaly were unique, but the TV engineers had had the foresight to realise the need for universal charging compatibility.

Polycephaly rolled over onto their back again, re-setting their head as they did so, and plugged the cable into the charging port on the sternum of their plating. It would have been nicer to charge in their own quarters, but doubtless if they went back to TV Base someone would find another task for them. As long as they stayed here, Rochester could fob off any enquiries by saying 'Nope, repairs still needed.'

On a whim, Polycephaly offered Rochester a hand. The human hesitated, unsure if Polycephaly was really offering what Rochester thought they were... They accepted, mostly to see what Polycephaly would do.

Polycephaly lifted Rochester onto their front, letting them lie down. "I'm not going anywhere for a bit. And neither are you, because everyone knows you're working on me. Join me in having a rest?"

"Way ahead of you," Rochester said dreamily, spreading out and enjoying the warmth of Polycephaly's plating. The two cats noticed it was evidently Cuddle Times, and jumped up to nestle around their human.

It would be nice to do nothing for a couple of hours.

[negative-speedforce]

OC Fandom Asks! For Kayla and Siv please

1, 3, 7, 10, 15, 19, and 29?

1: Was your OC influenced or inspired by any particular fictional character(s) when you made them?

Kayla is loosely based on the ORIGINAL-original version of Siv, the one from 14-year-old me's DC/Marvel/Percy Jackson/Star Wars crossover. I had some really cool concepts for the later chapters of that one, and I decided to recycle them into a whole new character.

Siv is quite literally the product of a dream I had when I was 13, but overall, while I mostly base my characters' stories and personalities off their playlists, her personality has been influenced by a whole lot of characters. They were influenced by Cassandra from Tangled: The Series, Natasha Romanoff, Reva from Kenobi, Adrien from Miraculous, and a whole lot of other characters from fandoms I've been into over the 7+ years I've had them.

3: What genre would your OC do badly in but it would be hilarious or interesting to watch?

Kayla would absolutely SUCK in a rom-com. First of all, she aroace-spec, second of all, she does not know how to talk to girls- at all. It would low-key be pretty funny to watch her fumble around like that.

Siv would loathe being in a Regency period drama. All those rules and restrictions for how you have to be- she wouldn't be able to stand it. She'd probably end up going apeshit and destroying the castle.

7: If your OC had to cosplay as a fictional character, who would they choose?

Kayla normally isn't the cosplaying type, but I think she'd have a lot of fun dressed up as Sam from Totally Spies.

Siv would probably dress up as some kind of creature from Star Trek. I'm not sure what, but they'd pull it off really well nonetheless.

10: How would your OC do in the last book/movie/tv show/game/etc. you read/watched/played?

Oooh I watched Birds of Prey yesterday with my Grandma (it is her favorite movie) so this will be fun-

Kayla absolutely slays. She's got that vaguely morally gray component to her character that means that she'll probably get along with most of the main cast. Though Harley's personality would probably give her a headache.

I'm actually planning an arc where Siv has to team up with Harley and the Birds of Prey for... plot reasons! I feel like she'd get along best with Dinah and Helena for obvious reasons, but ngl I'm mostly planning this arc because I have the idea of Siv snapping at Harley and telling her to shut up/stop being annoying/etc, and Harley goes all psychiatrist on her.

15: How well would your OC do in a standard slasher movie?

Kayla, being a secret agent, would fare pretty well. Her skills in recognizing patterns and taking down supervillains would be invaluable in a slasher film.

Siv, if they weren't the slasher themself, would definitely make it to the end, and probably end up slashing the slasher.

19: If your OC was in Star Trek’s Starfleet, what would be their role/position? Or, if that doesn’t really fit your OC: why would they get kicked out of Starfleet?

Kayla, being a biomedical engineer in real life, would probably be either the chief medical officer or an engineer in Starfleet.

Siv would get thrown out of Starfleet for starting too many fights and overwhelming her ship's medical supplies with all the injuries she's caused.

29: Gun to their head, what is your OC’s fursona?

I don't even know if Kayla really knows what a fursona is, but if she had to chose, I think she'd go with some kind of bird. Like maybe a blue jay or some other kind of corvid?

Siv isn't a furry, but she made up a fursona as a joke with her friends in high school. It's a lynx that wields a giant battle axe.

[branzinos]

the new hbomberguy video reminded me of the time that me / danganronpa wiki got badly plagiarised lol. essentially at the time, 99% of the danganronpa v3 main page was written by me (as I was one of the main active mods of the site at the time), using information from the japanese version of the game based on mostly japanese articles and Lets Plays of the japanese game by english streamers, with translated names for all the new post-game bonus modes (of which v3 has many). these translated names and other new jp-only features were either by me directly or by other members of the fandom to help explain the new concepts, but were obviously fan translated versions of terminology and not official and so almost unique to this page since translation from japanese involves a lot of personal interpretation. danganronpa is a series that has a fuckton of pop culture references in it that don't always translate well to english, particularly in the more off-beat and comedic parts of the games, and so typically the official translations are very different to the japanese terms and names for things - and the bonus modes themselves have extremely goofy names that don't translate well. our wiki policy is that all fan translated content has a large, highlighted heading that signposts that it includes fan translated content, and a link to the original translator's socials or wiki profile.

when v3 was finally released in english 9 months later i was keeping a close eye on review scores and so on from different outlets to add to our critical response section. lo and behold, I find a supposed review of the english game that stuck out like a sore thumb to me. see, even though the game had been out in English for less than a day, screencaps and video of the post-game bonus modes were already circulating online, so we had official English names for all of them, which I then updated the Wiki with. the combined post-game for V3 is many hours longer than the base game, but a person would not need to actually play or complete them to see the mode names from the main menu - only the base game.

However, this particular review, presumably written using a free review copy of the game from the publisher and prior to me being able to update the Wiki, used the fan translated terminology and bonus mode names featured on the Wiki. "Huh." I thought a first glance, "a bit strange that someone with an actual copy of the game would need to lift the incorrect English names from the Wiki." But when I pulled up the Wiki page I'd written just to double check I wasn't seeing things, I realised he had not only lifted the fan translations with no attribution despite it being clearly labeled on the Wiki page (the minimisation and lack of proper crediting of fan translations in jp fandoms is another can of worms), but he'd lifted nearly the entire bonus mode section i'd written word for word, with barely any re-writes at all, and no indication that they had any personal experience with the gameplay even on a basic level.

now, don't get me wrong, Wikis are Creative Commons and lifting of content from them for information is to be expected - if I got mad every time a youtube video or strategy guide used content I researched and wrote (or ripped directly from the game, or translated, or spent hundreds of hours transcribing, or creating easy-to-read tables for data, or...) with no credit to the Wiki (I don't expect personal credit, it's a Wiki), my head would explode - but this review was quite clearly not the review of someone who had actually completed the game and played these modes. I know that game reviewers are under tight deadlines and DRV3 is a long game, but I felt this was a quite clearly a deceptive review that wasn't actually reviewing anything they had experienced themself. something about it really pissed me off, and so I shot an email to the site's editor. the site apologised and pulled the bonus mode section from the article entirely, but then, about four days later, emailed me again groveling to ask if they could re-add it with attribution to DR Wiki. I agreed, although I urged them to update their copy to reflect the English names and not use the uncredited fan translations. That's really all I ask for! It's unreasonable to ask for personal credit because of the ways that Wikis are written with multiple contributors, but this section (which comprised of about 30% of the entire article) was my own work and research that had been lifted nearly 100% in a deceptive "review" by someone who hadn't even finished the main game to be able to see the post-game game modes on their menu. it was such a strong example of how the work of wiki contributors is taken for granted as free, exploitable fan labour and not the work of just a handful of people (statistically speaking, most wikis are often only written and moderated by one or two people, unless they're a huge fandom like star wars. even a wiki like ours with 2mil hits per month only had about five of us writing it) volunteering their free time to document things - even by our own webhosts at Fandom/Wikia who routinely dick us over with increasingly awful features just to line their pocket. please remember that wikis have real human people behind them!

[disastersteps]

sits.

i usually never shut up about au stuff so been thinking about this au in particular- happy sidestep days au.

(its a old au of mine back in 2020s? cant remember) that i brought back and just revisit mostly based off what i learnt of.

the basic original summary of this au is 'what if sidestep never fell, what if themmy never died that way, and what if heartbreak incident never happened, and what if sidestep's not a regene'

but i had been considering having some of the stuff from the games into it, so its gonna be depend on how i can. integrate it with canon facts into a AU setting. i might change stuff by the time the series is ever over. wheezes.

anyway this au aka 2023 version is well,

Anita had never fell from the window, and Themmy never died from how they did- and as the result, Anita continued to be Sidestep and Themmy is alive and continues to be Anathema.

The current time is the same exact time as canon, so seven years later, Anita went ahead and changed their suit once they're more confident in their own persona and their own hero.

Unlike canon neets, Neets finally confess to Jules earlier and not a coward and as a result, these two are disgustingly cute together for the next seven years, featuring Themmy having to be the third wheel and audience who voiced 'this is fucking suck but good for you two through.'

During these years, Themmy and Neets gotten closer enough to consider each other queerplatonic partners

Other than that, it's just your everyday hero life, really, that's it.

Oh! In this AU, Anita still mentor Herald when he joined, and before him- Argent joined and she got to be mentored by Themmy!!!

Which is why Chen is currently under Jules' wing in passing down the rank of the Marshal. (Anita turned it down, and says 'Chen is the best in our team when it comes to leadership.' and Chen had to take a moment to realize Anita wasn't being a ass and actually geninue believing in him. This may or may not had bloom their friendship earlier.)

Also because Anita and Julia are dating together in this AU, they're still dealing with tabolds are like, gasp, Is Charge dating someone in public? and Wait, but Sidestep and Charge were very close are they? Is she cheating on Sidestep for someone!?

^ Themmy showing all of these to Neets and going 'oh my fucking god.' while Themmy is wheezing so loud.

Yes, these two managed to keep their relationship private from public eye. Doesn't stop the Rangers, old and new, to witness them being soft bitches in the breakroom.

Yes, that meant Herald had no idea until he joined and then his world shookth when he learnt his teacher is dating their partner in crime. Argent, on the other hand, goes 'lmao i figured it out, they kept heart eyeing each other in the news so-'

Yes. It meant there's pictures. of them on the fridge and on top of that fridge is a jar full of coins with a label that says 'Walk in and you Find yourself witnessing Julita Being Gayasses' (wrote by themmy, 'you two keep being cute and kissy!' in jest)

Half of the coins are from Chen.

Actually, not just Chen but also Themmy, the curse of being their bestie.

Almost everyone except Argent had throw coins in.

No, Argent is too smart and she just knew and never failed to walk in.

Themmy insisted she reveal her secrets. she just laughs and goes 'nope <3'

and now with retri spoilers related

I still hadn't decide on Anita's background- it's either keeping Regene background, or the other ideas (yes im looking at you HG) but like I said, this part will be changed depend on how it went in canon.

If they were regene, it would be after they confessed to Julia and revealed themself to her, and it was a moment of waiting for her to walk out or not. She never did. "You're always Anita to me."

And if they're actually a lost sibling of HG, then Anita would've finally admit "It's that's why you had been so protective of me????? what the fuck jules!!! im happy being here! being with you! and everyone!!!"

so uhhhhh

other than all that, i just like drawing themmy and sidestep interactions which is why i use this AU just to draw/write about them, and perhaps chargestep being softies while being asses sO-

[finnkalmbach]

SOCIAL MEDIA

social media has been a topic of interest for a while now, specifically the harmful effects it causes on our daily well-being and our long term happiness. dont get me wrong, social media is a powerful tool that can have many positive benefits. it can be used to promote your business, share ideas, spread social awareness, etc. however, the negative side of social media has been a particular interest as it takes a major tole on humans, it just goes unnoticed through our daily lives.

few are consciously aware, very few make a change.

it all starts with addiction. our phones have turned into a digital pacifier. these apps were intended for that purpose: to keep you glued as they slowly strip away parts of what makes you, you… and its that easy for them. it goes by, unnoticed. after the addiction begins, soon your life turns into a constant status update.

peoples self worth is then taken over and manipulated in the amount of likes, comments, followers they may have… numbers. people crave the validity, they crave the attention, and most importantly they crave what makes them who they truly arent. a second layer, a mask, a disguise, until they have adapted a replica of another persons life.. stripped away.

it takes the aware to be able to come back to themself. most people put the value of their self-worth into their phone, living life basing other peoples opinions on how they view themself. where do we think depression, anxiety, and loneliness stems from? it turns out social media is the number one cause. 

dont let yourself unconsciously strip away the real version of you to become a distorted one on an app, that soon you wont even recognize. don’t externalize your value, let it come from within. dont let this crutch distract your vision.

people need to appreciate everything they are, as they are. live up to a version of yourself you create, not others. dont compare, appreciate what you are. youre unique, and the only one out there on a planet in a vast array of void.

1 in 400 trillion chance of being born.. that alone should make you feel special. let your genuine self live, love, learn. stay present, stay aware, and wake up… thats the cure.

[house-of-mirrors]

I’ve finished the long awaited bio post for the third of my player characters, Miles! I’ve mentioned them before, my horrible son, spaghetti noodle of a human being, character with which I make evil choices to see text. You may send a calling card to The Remorseful Apprentice, or you may find the old profile of The Avid Occultist. Here is the Picrew link

Why do I have two versions of the same character? Short answer, I missed them too much after knocking so here we are.

Quick facts:

·      Miles symbolizes the corruption of high society in the Victorian Era. They were born into a wealthy family and grew up with entitlement and imperialistic views in what I’ve heard my grandfather call “the age of arrogance.” The world is theirs, and it’s their right to have whatever they want. Given the choice between pursuit of power and anything else, they will always choose power. External corruption with the red science and seeking reflects internal and generational corruption.

·      “No shame, no spine, no self-awareness”

·      If asked to choose a gender option on a form, they would circle all of them. They’re not too particular with pronouns and sometimes use he/him, but I most often use they/them for Miles. Distinctly a femme presentation. Miles and Orsinio are mtf/ftm hostility.

·      They are somewhere on the autism spectrum; it manifests as touch aversion and a difficulty in making real friends despite being a social butterfly. Touch aversion somewhat plays into them being aromantic, but they genuinely have no interest in it. Miles gets the badge of being my one allosexual OC.

·      Miles greatly struggles with mental health, much of which comes from family trauma, and being in the Neath makes that a ticking time bomb. If they had therapy and antidepressants, the whole tragedy could have been averted. TW ahead for darker discussion of mental illness, SMEN typical self-harm.

Now, I can’t explain why Miles is a villain without explaining how their actions affect the rest of the plot, so this “bio” is more of a whole summary of a narrative arc. Under the cut became more or less a mini fic, so FYI that it is longer than usual for my character posts. Also includes some mentions of my friend's characters. For someone who complains about SMEN so much, I sure did base a significant chunk of my OC stories around it, didn’t I? Tragic. (The themes of temptation lured me in, and when I realized how much I didn’t like it, I was already too committed to the story, alas.)

You may wonder as you read, “Hey, why does Miles’ story include so much about Orsinio?” Well, Miles thinks they’re a main character, but they’re actually a side character. You may also wonder, how does having two versions of the same character with wildly conflicting ambitions work in the timeline? No single thing shall be a single thing. Major spoilers ahead for SMEN (including vague detail about the hate ending) and the discordance, as well as all ambitions.

Early Story

·      The Lovelace family made its fortune in the textiles industry. Incredibly dysfunctional with the detached parenting typical of the time within the leisure class. Neither of their parents is great, but Miles mostly has daddy issues:tm:. There are also large age gaps between the children; Miles is the second youngest and only close to their younger sister, Marguerite

·      Negative attention is still attention which leads to Miles getting involved in multiple scandals. It also isn’t a good look for Miles to not yet be married or engaged, which they’re really uncomfortable with, being aromantic. The final straw is a gambling debt, after which their father, Julian, disowns them until they make something respectable of themself

·      Miles has heard rumors about the Neath and decides to go to try to make their fortune. Before leaving, Marguerite gives them her necklace and asks them to be safe for her

·      Soon after arriving, Miles learns about the Marvellous. They need a path to attain their own fortune and power, and this is a promised road to rising the ranks. They say they’re doing this to prove themself, but really, they’re only throwing themself into their vices. I follow the interpretation that Heart’s Desire is a metaphor for addiction.

·      At a bohemian event, Miles meets a Professor. Orsinio tries to be mentoring to a new arrival, but Miles is prickly and pro-monarchy and they part bitterly, though Miles does become close to their mutual friend, Elliot

Seven is the Number

·      As Miles progresses through the Marvellous, they begin to hear a voice in their head telling them they can have much more power than the Masters can offer. The voice comes with troubling dreams and lapses in memory. When they wake up covered in blood in the bushes outside a salon, Elliot tells them to talk to Orsinio

·      Orsinio isn’t too happy to see them, but is very willing to help. He was at Avid Horizon during Nemesis and knows what it’s like to feel that pull. (He claims he no longer feels it.) Miles is briefly his student in the lab and generally is very poor at it, refusing to listen and not doing much of anything. Eventually, they leave when they realize they can’t gain anything they want here. Orsinio is irked and genuinely wanted to help, but he can’t force anyone to do anything.

·      Miles’ condition continues to worsen, plagued by compulsions to eat strange things and nightmares of knives and drowning. They wonder, can you really get hurt in a dream, and can it scar in real life? They are genuinely scared, but they’ve never learned how to ask for help. They confide their worries in a letter to Elliot on a drunk evening, at their wit’s end with exhaustion.

·      Their own family didn’t want them, but this voice does. They feel like it’s wrong to accept the voice, and they’ve been told not to by their friends, but if they give into it, they can finally sleep.

·      No one hears from Miles for some time after this. They go off the grid with weeping scars, memories of chains, and stains on the soul. One could make the argument that Miles, the real Miles, is dead after the first time they stab themself (second weeping scar). I as the player was not invested in SMEN and therefore Miles wasn’t either; it functions primarily as a MacGuffin.

·      The person who returns to society is very much not like Miles used to be. This person is even more charismatic and does much more physical contact, compelling enough to entrap people for St Arthur’s Candle. They adopt a seemingly carefree attitude, why worry when all shall be well?

·      Miles becomes a silverer, inspired by interpreting their strange dreams and promised power from the fingerkings. They use these dream interpretations to amass a small cult following of fellow seekers.

Miles, you could have just Asked him to Dinner

·      At a working lunch with an affectionate devil, Orsinio is told what Miles did to their soul. He rushes home to pen an urgent warning to his friends, but finds Miles inside, waiting for him in his study chair. Miles speaks highly of his work, apologizing for not appreciating it properly when they were a student. They come interested in his unpublished work. He’s one of the few who has seen the Avid Horizon. Won’t he tell them more? Orsinio firmly denies Miles, but they leave with the self-confidence this isn’t the end of it. Once they’re gone, he walks outside right back to the affectionate devil and makes a deal for his soul. If he doesn’t have it, he can’t give into temptation to seek. Orsinio has finished railway at this point and tried to convince himself he was okay, that he was past this, but he isn’t.

·      Miles progresses through candles B through E without much fanfare. At the Carnival at Midnight, they claim to be seeking for love, a love they never got from their family, or a love for their enemy, the Professor.

Poor Choices are Made in HD

·      The end of the Marvellous rolls around. Miles makes as many scummy decisions as possible, choosing not to help the topsy king, condemning the cardsharp monkey, though they do hesitate, just for a moment, with Beechwood’s chance. They say they’re playing the Marvellous for themself, but they know deep down they’re still having feelings about their father. This is a chance to give all of that up, make a new life for themself, heal from past trauma. But no, they came this far. They’re not giving it all up for a moment of emotional weakness.  

·      Miles becomes Mr Cards. Isn’t this what they wanted? The first time they meet with Mr Hearts for red science, they feel deep down they’ve made a terrible mistake. Being a Master doesn’t seem good at all. They need something else, but what is it? (Genuine connections with people?) They need to go North.

Clown on Clown Violence 

·      Miles comes to Orsinio yet again, asking him to join them in seeking. He’s so smart and he’s been marked by the northern wind, why won’t he? He can finally have revenge against all the Masters, against the system that enabled Cups to kill his brother. Orsinio refutes with compassion, telling Miles their sister wouldn’t want to lose them. Miles, the real Miles, almost breaks through, their sister ever a soft spot for them. They admit they’re afraid of what they’ve become and they don’t want her to see them like this. Orsinio extends another olive branch, telling Miles it isn’t too late to turn around. But Miles, as always, choses pursuit of grandeur

·      By this point, Miles has become truly obsessed with this enemy they can’t break, not only with the madness that comes of seeking but with possessive behavior that comes from becoming a Master. (Or, Miles, you could have apologized for being rude and asked him to dinner) When Orsinio still won’t bite, Miles threatens to target his friends/found family instead, both Elliot and Lucy.

·      What plays out is a long, regrettable, and, if we’re being honest, a bit pathetic struggle between Miles and Orsinio. Orsinio’s logic isn’t good logic, but it is logic. He thinks there’s no fate worse than going North, even death or injury, so tries poisoning Miles a few times to get them to stop one way or another. Miles isn’t offended but milks the incidents to make Orsinio appear like the villain and turn others against him. Mail fraud is a significant contributor to how things fall apart; Miles begins intercepting letters, isolating Orsinio and each of his friends from each other.

·      Meanwhile, Miles is getting closer to Elliot, claiming to be their only real friend left and trying to drag them into seeking. (Elliot finishes Light Fingers and gets a child to protect so that comes to a quick end, fortunately.)

·      Despite all that’s transpired, Orsinio keeps getting drawn back to Miles. He tells himself it’s determination to stop them for the greater good. What he doesn’t realize is that Miles already got inside his head with seeking which is the real reason he won’t let the topic go. There comes the darkest hour in which he nearly scars himself but is stopped by his student mentee. 

I Want that Twink Obliterated

·      Orsinio comes to realize he’s indulging the same reckless behavior he did during Nemesis that nearly sent him down the dark road of seeking at the time. He pens a letter to Lucy confessing all he’s kept to himself thus far. He reflects that recklessness can be a manifestation of addictive tendencies, then he remembers who he’s fighting, the Master of Gambling. He realizes how he’s been played a little bit too late.

·      Orsinio is strong-minded and normally wouldn’t have fallen for such manipulations, but he’s been worn down for a long time by Miles preying on his paranoia and guilt. Nightmares 7. He goes to pursue Miles one last time to put an end to this once and for all, but walks into a set-up. Miles drags their final confrontation to Parabola where they have an advantage as a silverer. Orsinio does not win and spends some time in the Royal Beth afterward.

·      Orsinio’s student manages to get word of the truth to his friends. Lucy puts Miles in their place through varying violent means and then goes to be with Orsinio. Both of them promise to each other to be better communicators. Lucretia also comes to the Neath during this time to help in the crisis, but more on her story later in her own bio.

NORTH

·      Elliot learns the truth of what Miles did and feels betrayed. Miles sends a final letter. They’re not sorry for what they did, nor are they sure why they did it. Elliot was the last thing they had left to lose, and this whole chess game ensured they would lose Elliot. Now, they’re prepared to go North. First, they must go South, but they will go North.

·      What Parabola and the fingerkings could offer wasn’t enough. Winning the Marvellous and getting the chance to become a Master wasn’t enough. Miles almost considered throwing their lot in with liberationists, so that after the revolution they could seize power in a vacuum, but they didn’t pursue that route. They’ll never be satisfied as long as there’s a higher station to rise to.

·      Miles is unable to live with what they’ve become. They cut off their hair for St Gawain’s Candle, and when they look in the mirror, they only imagine a photograph of Julian as a younger man. They reflect on all the horrific deeds they’ve done and all the people they hurt to get where they are now, and they realize they became just like their father. Beyond the gates is a place they’ll finally be free of him. (Who is the real villain of the story? Julian Lovelace is.)

·      Had they chosen any other ambition ending than power, they would not have gone North. The gravity of the decision hits them and they realize becoming Mr Cards would mean entirely losing their identity. They can’t let anyone see them like this. They don’t want this to be their eternity. They really messed up and see no way to fix it now

·      Miles muses that physical monstrous changes by the red science represent internal corruption, generations of abominable deeds done to stay in power manifest in the weeping scars on their skin. They didn’t fail to live up to their family legacy, they embody it better than anyone else. “Miles, you didn’t have to do any of that!” There are so many points at which a different choice could have made the story end another way, yet the story never could have ended any other way.

·      On the feast of Candlemas, 2 February, Miles goes North. At the gates, they hesitate one last time, thinking of their sister. But they can’t let her see what they’ve become. The sentiment is far too little, far too late. I interpret the knock as suicide

·      At the exact same moment that Miles knocks, Orsinio obtains a discordance stone.

·      Miles asked, “What is due?” I will be vague about the ending, but all I’ll say is that it was the only fitting end for the character trajectory they were on, and they got exactly what they wanted. A position above everyone else. Attention from the grandest.

The End... or Is It?

·      On the seventh day of the seventh month, someone returns from the North, picked up by a ship that was in Stormbones and spotted them by lucky chance.

·      Elliot reacts in disbelief and betrayal. Lucy reacts by killing Miles, repeatedly, for what they did to her loved ones.

·      Orsinio remains calm, because he realizes immediately what’s afoot. For Miles to be here, Nothing had to have happened, because if they weren’t here, then something would have happened. This is Miles, and this is Not Miles. He holds his dog Sugarplum while musing on this, wondering if he should not take Miles to the Anchoress for advice. He decides against it, for the time being.

·      This Miles spends some time adjusting back to life in the Neath, starting completely over again. They have lingering physical changes in sharp teeth and pointed ears, but otherwise has no connection or obligation to continue participating in the Masters’ experiments. They remain under the radar for a time to ensure it’s safe, but no one seems to even acknowledge them. They also have no marks from SMEN save one scar, the first scar, as a reminder.

·      Miles finally realizes the best way to spite Julian is to cut him out of their thoughts and live the life they want. Orsinio is proud of them for character growth, but couldn’t they have realized that sooner, without seeking?  Miles adopts the name Darlington instead, their mother’s maiden name.

·      Orsinio is ever patient but gets tired of Miles hanging around his lab all day and tells them to get something to do. They see posters at the Department of Menace Eradication for a big hunting prize. They always enjoyed hunting trips during visits to the family’s summer home on the Surface. Why not? (We all Look Away from R playing the same ambition with multiple characters. No single timeline shall be a single timeline.) Orsinio remains exasperated.

Bag a Legend 2 Electric Boogaloo

·      “Veils got Miles in the divorce with Eaten”

·      While my OC Samuel represented the taciturn and violent side of Veils, Miles is the charmer and manipulator. Despite getting a second chance, they very much are still a villain, though at least they’re less unhinged this time. Miles becomes a Midnighter. They don’t know why they have a sudden interest in the Great Game, but they find they’re a natural at it. Miles, whether they’re conscious of it or not, plays White.

·      I’m in the middle of BAL now, but Miles will choose the Surface Veils ending. I imagine Veils can shift appearance easily, given that it’s a manifestation of intrigue and disguise; when they first encounter Surface Veils, it appears like Julian. Miles is disarmed, but has grown much more confident, and is able to keep control of the situation. As the game goes on, Surface Veils shifts to look more how I imagine it. When they come to an impasse, a hand is outstretched, and negotiations for a deal can begin. Allying with Veils is the perfect way to spite their father the textile magnate

All My Homies Hate the White

·      Orsinio, who already was suspicious of the circumstances of Miles’ return, grows even more concerned watching them develop an interest in chess which was previously nonexistent. He knows of the higher powers of the chessboard from his studies at the Adulterine Castle, and he knows something of the nature of the Old Man and the White from his experience in the game (several ES). Orsinio knows enough to understand they send agents to the Neath, and he begins to wonder if this is why “Miles” is here.

·      Orsinio is doing a lot mentally better, but still struggles with paranoia. What if his whole life, he’s been a pawn? What if his brother was murdered not only as part of Mr Cups’ scheming, but to get Orsinio to go to the Neath, where he’d eventually go West and study what isn’t at the Hurlers, so he’d have the wherewithal to later lead an agent of the White directly to the court of the Black?

·      The story ends here, for now. I’m excited to do railway with Miles and read text for evil choices that I can’t make with other characters for RP reasons. Playing a villain is a lot of fun. We’ll see how things play out, or do not play out.

[we-call-it-technophobia]

☆ Oz Headcanons ☆

(( As he is a huge comfort character, I’m very particular in my depiction of him, so here’s some headcanons for my version of Oz! Get ready for an infodump. I’m very sorry. ))

• Oz’s existence as the embodiment of fear is… well, complicated. Ironically enough, the person who knows the most about what he is and what the existence of a monster like him is like isn’t even him, it’s Zoe (his Phobias do hold that knowledge but cannot communicate it), and she’s done most of the explaining to him based on her literal millennia of existence in which she had come to know embodiments of fear before him. This is what Oz now knows of himself based on Zoe’s account:

Embodiments of fear live and die by generations. When enough fear is in the world, a new embodiment manifests if there isn’t one already. Fear isn’t the only abstract concept that has manifested into a physical being, and other embodiments follow rather similar rules. In the case of an embodiment of fear, they come into existence when there is enough fear in the world to fuel their existences. Same can be said for their deaths—when fear is a less dominant sensation in the world, they simply fade away until fear reincarnates into a new embodiment when it regains power.

Depending on the period this intense amount of fear lasts for, the incarnations of fear can live short or long lives, the briefest existence for one being about 20 years and the longest somewhere over 2000. Because different events in the world create different kinds of fear, each incarnation of the embodiment appears vastly different from the others. Some fear beings were born of wars, others from natural disasters and events, and so on. In Oz’s case, he was born of a quietly building fear full of dread for the world’s future (and can be traced back to the large increase in those who struggle with mental illness, anxiety and depression that continues to grow over these years). The much more quiet, personal fear is what gave Oz his personality of being such a shy, meek monster in general.

For as grand and near deity-like as being the physical embodiment of an abstract concept such as emotions, physical embodiments as a whole are generally… not very powerful monsters. They have no control over how others feel what they embody, for example. Their existence is literally caused by an abundance of energy towards that particular emotion or sensation. In Oz’s case, he is made of fear—everyone’s fear. The energy created by fear quite literally makes his physical form. He, and his past incarnations, do not have any control over fear itself but rather exist as a direct result of fear becoming powerful enough in the mortal world. The only thing embodiments are consistently known for being able to do is to (uncontrollably) perpetuate whatever they embody when they reach a charged emotional state. It’s almost like sweat, which is a weird comparison, but when a physical embodiment becomes overwhelmed with certain feelings, their essence is exuded onto others. In Oz’s case, when extremely stressed or afraid, everyone around him will begin to feel the same as the stress of his own anxiety forces an aura of it off of him. Though, this can happen to other embodiments too, like an embodiment of happiness making an entire room excitable when they’re in a really good mood. It is not something that the embodiment themself can control. Otherwise, they are nearly powerless entities.

And considering fear as a whole makes up Oz’s body, which encompasses the entire world’s fears, he is often tormented by nightmares, which is a somewhat natural side effect for being literally made of fear itself. It is very easy for the fears of others to seep into his own mind, especially while asleep.

Each of his Phobias are actually the remnants of previous incarnations of fear! Oz has 32 Phobias in total, and once he disappears, his consciousness will reside in a Phobia on the next incarnation of fear to come along. Though Phobias are incapable of speech, including telepathy, they essentially act as the guardians of the current embodiment of fear to guide them through life with their own experience.

• As a former mistress of extreme pain and terror, Zoe has naturally met many previous embodiments of fear, which is reason for her extensive knowledge on them! Some of her particularly heinous actions way back then literally caused some of those embodiments to manifest, after all.

But now that this exposition on his monster species is out of the way…

• Oz is somewhat selectively mute. It is not nearly as prominent for him as it is for others, but he usually only speaks when spoken to and often takes pains to not speak when he doesn’t need to. This is because of his general social anxiety, but also thanks to him having a speech impediment (a chronic stutter) which he is incredibly self conscious about.

• He may be mildly on the autism spectrum as well, but that is unconfirmed. (( because mod giant spider is on the spectrum so he’ll slap that headcanon on any comfort character he can grasp ))

• Super asexual! He was actually introduced to Coach’s aro/ace support group when he began talking to Kale about their shared interest in Pokemans. After getting to know him well enough, Kale told him about the group and Oz has been attending somewhat regularly for some time now.

• Oz loves soft things like stuffed animals. So soothing to the touch!

• He first came into existence with his body at the physical age of roughly 3. He met Brian, Amira, and Vicky shortly after just suddenly popping into existence and despite being tiny kids themselves, they all agreed to help take care of Oz until he could catch up developmentally since he was literally… just born, sudden as can be. Without any parental figures, Oz has been squatting in an abandoned apartment complex for several years now. It’s his home, and even if it is abandoned, the apartment Oz lives out of is well kept. Messes are just more stressors.

• He’s always been a nerd who’s super shy about his interests and keeps them under wraps, so when he met someone as fandom involved as Zoe, she opened his eyes a lot. He hasn’t been the same since she introduced him to fluff fanfiction, which is way better than his previous guilty pleasure of watching rom-coms and hoping and praying he might just find a queer one in the mix in order to get his fix of warm fuzzies. Until he met Calculester, he really liked the idea of romance, but could never felt strongly about anyone like that.

• He can really get going talking about his interests if you let him, from speaking only when spoken to to a serious motormouth. It’s a real sign of his comfort with someone if he can do that! Sometimes he ends up tearing up a bit when rambling about his interests to Calculester, especially, because he both feels bad making someone listen to him get so carried away and feels touched someone actually wants to listen to him do this.

• Kind of has a complicated relationship with physical touch. On one hand, he’s very touch starved and craves that sort of affection, but he’s also extremely touch averse to anyone he doesn’t know or trust—which can be a very difficult relationship to build up with him, since he’s so hesitant.

• He’s an easy target for bullies, sure, and some monsters are convinced he’s a malicious god who controls fear rather than just… literal fear itself walking around… but those sort of monsters know he’s not to be messed with, because he has a whole gang of friends ready to come to his defense. He’ll usually cry about how grateful he is for it.

• In general, he’s very emotional. He often tells his friends how much he loves and appreciates them, sometimes to unintentional excess, but he just worries they’ll forget, which he doesn’t want! He’s so thankful for all the people he does have that level of trust with.

• Can be prone to nervous/happy giggle fits when especially flustered. Calculester’s seen it, and equates it to a sort of organic overheating.

(( I think that’s enough of a hc dump for now! Perhaps I’ll get to some shippier ones when I have the time to infodump again. I care these two so much

— Mod Giant Spider ))

[delimeful]

not always what they seem (3)

warnings: remus pov so lots of brief mentions of gore/violence, some NSFW comments/innuendos/saucy jokes, dissection mention, miscommunication, minor injuries

the song remus so graciously performs for everyone is "a gorey demise"! :)

-

Remus kicked his legs absently as his alien carried him through the giant halls of... wherever the hell they were. A spaceship? Some sort of research facility? Maybe probing was still on the table.

He was pretty sure at this point that this was real, if only because if it was one of his night terrors, there would have been at least 35% more death and gore by now. Maybe 40%.

And it wasn’t like there hadn’t already been prime opportunities at basically every moment, with how small and crushable they were in comparison to each of the aliens! If the three of them were the protagonists, by slasher movie standards, two of them would have to be grotesquely killed by the end. He wondered absently which of his fellow abductees would make a better Final Survivor.

His attention immediately switched tracks as they reached a stopping point, and Logan settled their hand down on a giant, metallic table. Remus rolled off onto the surface and sprang up to his feet, rubbing his hands together maniacally. “So, what’s first?”

The alien’s big fluffy ears twitched, but they didn’t do more than glance down at Remus before tapping at a smooth blue surface and pulling up extensive diagrams. Well, if the alien wasn’t going to bring the experiments to him, he’d bring himself to the experiments!

He trotted across the table and skipped onto the blue surface, ignoring the windows and symbols that flickered into existence behind every step. If they didn’t want him walking all over the alien version of a touchscreen, they should have kidnapped him with shoes! Or broken his legs, like very literal theatre fans.

Logan didn’t lift a hand to stop him though, their head tilted curiously like a feral cat seeing something small and breakable to maul. Remus dialed the probability of it being a night terror up a few percentages, and then turned to look at the diagrams anyhow.

Ah, yes, pictures. The universal language.

He had no idea what most of the creatures depicted were or what the labels attached read, but the drawings themselves were clear enough: bodies posed neutrally, no clothes, and some parts of them exposed to show muscle, bone, and organ.

“Hm,” Remus hummed, consideringly. “These are either dissection diagrams or some really gory pornography... Either way, I’m so down.”

He flashed the alien a double thumbs up, and flopped down on top of a diagram. Logan reached over and messed with the touchscreen for a moment, and then reached even further and returned with a long, narrow utensil, black and pointed at one end.

They set the point of it directly next to his torso without even bothering to press the rest of him down, and Remus wondered if the alien expected him not to thrash around while he was being dissected. Maybe aliens had technology that deadened nerves as they cut through them! He’d always wondered how long he’d be able to survive a vivisection.

Logan moved the utensil, and Remus’s body twitched in adrenaline-fueled anticipation despite feeling exactly nothing. He craned his neck to see what was going on, and blinked.

A line stretched across the touchscreen where the utensil had slid across it, shadowing the curve of his ribcage over what looked hilariously similar to graph paper.

The alien was tracing him.

“Oh, come on!”

---

Logan’s tail swayed in curiosity as Remus began to make louder versions of those little noises that made up the aliens’ language, accentuated with a hand gesture. The motion made it harder to get an accurate outline, but the main point was to get basic measurements anyhow, so Logan didn’t try to stifle the little creature’s movements.

He absolutely didn’t want to disrupt the odd casualness with which this one treated him, so different from Virgil’s earlier twitchy terror and even D’s careful consideration of their every movement. While quite rowdy in nature, Remus seemed the most unconcerned with the situation, only showing aggression when one of the others had been grabbed without warning.

The tiny aliens were certainly a puzzle. D had given Remus’s name for them, perhaps indicating a social hierarchy, but Remus was also the largest between the three of them and had been completely unfazed by any teeth baring or tackling from the other two.

He prodded the tiny alien lightly as he finished and saved the measurement, and when that garnered no response, he curled fingers under them and lifted them up securely. Remus ragdolled petulantly, seeming oddly mopey. Perhaps the measurements had bored them?

Hopefully, the maze would provide a little more enrichment. Logan had made the deeper areas quite tricky, after all.

---

Patton was very delicate with how he handled D.

He’d tried to be careful with Remus, too, but they’d seemed pretty intent on trying to bite off little chunks of his suit, and attempt to scale dangerous items, and generally make Patton feel a little wonderment at the fact that the tiny creature had managed to survive long enough to make it to them.

With D, it was much easier, because the alien moved slower than the other two, with a purposeful grace. It seemed Patton didn’t have to worry about D throwing themself off any available high surface just to see if Patton would manage to catch them in time, at least.

He carefully shifted his hand to his research desk, and D adjusted the cuffs of their borrowed overlayer before stepping off of his hand.

Despite D’s languid movements, something about their body language seemed much more mindful than Remus. The pause as they took in the landscape and the ambient writing scrolls scattered across the table before deigning to turn and look at Patton, it felt almost... calculated. As though they were thinking about every move to present a certain image.

Patton reminded himself that there were plenty of aliens that didn’t feel as strongly as Nilhae about the authentic self, and these aliens in particular had more reason than most to hide themselves. They were tiny and vulnerable here, stripped from their homes and families, and  by all appearances, Patton and his teammates were the ones responsible.

He wasn’t sure he’d be eager to share his unfiltered self if he was in their situation, either.

Patton clasped both sets of lower hands together determinedly. The solution was the same regardless of if he wanted to fulfill his responsibility as a researcher or make any progress in befriending these little guys: they needed to communicate!

He pulled out two sets of the common alphabet, one printed and one imprinted. He wasn’t sure which senses were the keenest for these aliens, which ones they used for their own language systems, so it was best to cover all his bases.

D studied the printed one curiously, but seemed less interested by the imprinted one. Perhaps the materials used for touch-reading were different for them? Patton moved his hand closer slowly, allowing them time to protest, and held a digit out.

After a short staredown, D set their tiny hand atop it, and Patton guided them both to the surface of the imprints. The symbols were oversized for their tiny digits, but they seemed to get the idea, running their hands over the carved bumps and glancing back and forth between the printed letters and the imprinted ones.

Patton cheered internally, and then flicked a finger in the air to get D’s attention.

“Wait here please!” he enunciated carefully, and then held a hand out, palm-down, to indicate that they should stay put.

D kept their expression carefully neutral, not twitching in any way Patton could read, which made sense, since this was the first time Patton was using these words. Hopefully, context and a few repetitions would help them puzzle the meaning out.

He dipped his lowest arms in a polite be-right-back, turned, and left the room.

It didn’t take him long to duck in and out of the few rooms that held the items he needed, though he seemed to accidentally give Virgil a bit of a startle, going by the wide-eyed look the alien shot at him as Roman greeted him briefly.

Every hand full, he returned to his space, and found D standing in almost the exact same spot, shoulders loose and relaxed, attention remaining on the printed alphabet even as Patton walked closer.

He set each item down, earning a casual glance from the alien, and discreetly checked the heat register for the desk’s touch surface.

Sure enough, the past few moments showed recordings of small footprints that traced the perimeter of the desk, checking every possible side of it, likely for an easy way down. Then, they swiftly headed back to the center of the desk and settled back in place, close enough that it would appear they hadn’t moved at all.

Patton’s mouth twisted unhappily; he could teach the aliens as many words as they wanted, but if they didn’t trust them enough to even show their discomfort with the captivity, real communication would be out of reach.

They had a long way to go.

-

Remus whistled cheerily as he was carried back to the communal room, Logan’s padded fingers forming a more secure grip around him than before. He didn’t get squeezed to death or anything, so the alien probably wasn’t too angry with him. Or they were just contemplating a more painful method to murder him.

The other alien, the one with the freaky-awesome bug mouth and the rude grabby hands, was still in there, seated by the designated Gawk-At-Humans platform. They made some greeting noises at each other, a couple of which Remus imitated to himself, mangling the vowels in the back of his throat.

As Logan got closer, he could see Virgil standing surprisingly close to Grabby, and even better, the kid was all in one grumpy human-shaped piece. He jumped down from Logan’s hand before it was completely lowered and laughed as he felt his knees pop uncomfortably.

Logan made a warble-chirp of probably-disgust-maybe-concern, but Remus was swiftly distracted by the emo appearing at his side between one blink and the next, as though he’d teleported. He circled Remus like a starving wolf, his lips pulling back slightly as he took in the bruising around his shoulders. “What’d they do to you?”

“Well, he didn’t dissect me, which would normally be an automatic fail in the mad scientist gradebook, but,” Remus paused for emphasis, “I got to trash the electronic version of a horror movie corn maze, so I’m pleased as prostitutes!”

“He put you in that maze? I knew that thing was unsafe, holy shit—,” Virgil moved to put himself between Remus and Logan like he himself wasn’t just as squishable as Remus was.

“It seemed OSHA-approved to me! Before I smashed through all those walls, I mean.” He admired his scraped up hands with a cheek-stretching grin. “It’s much less boring now, with all the fun and sharp metal scarecrow sculptures I put together to jumpscare the piss out of future contenders!”

“An alien put you in a trap-filled rat race and you made modern art?” Virgil asked, successfully distracted from whatever horrific war crimes he was inventing for Logan in that little lemming brain of his.

“Can’t have anyone beating my time!” Remus confirmed cheerily.

“You— I. Ugh. Whatever!” Virgil threw his hands up, and then grabbed the front of Remus’s shirt and dragged him further from the two aliens like a bully stereotype from a low-budget teen coming-of-age movie. “Listen, the other one— Patton? They came in here earlier without Dee. I’m worried about— my hoodie.”

Remus would have made fun of the emo for his slip-up, but he was too busy imagining Dee splattered across some distant spaceship flooring. “That alien hardly even touched me,” Remus countered for both of their sakes. “For someone with so many hands, the guy sure didn’t want to get handsy.”

“You used that one already,” Virgil told him, unimpressed. “Get better hand jokes.”

“I’m better at jobs.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows, and received a muted smack on the shoulder for his efforts. He glanced back at Grabby automatically and found both aliens watching them, neither taking umbrage with Virgil smacking him like a cat annihilating a moth. “What happened with your xenomorph?”

“Terrible movie to compare us to,” Virgil muttered, but he glanced over his shoulder at Grabby without any of his earlier terror. Grabby waved at him like some kind of people-pleaser desperate for connection. “Pretty sure I just went through the same ordeal as one of those endangered birds scientists catch and release. Weighed, measured, photographed against my will.”

“Did you at least get a colorful tag to attract more bitches with?” Remus asked, lifting his ankle up in example.

“I would have bitten them first,” Virgil replied sourly. “I didn’t spend my whole adult life avoiding all government interaction to get slapped with a house arrest anklet now. Especially not a colorful one.”

“They’re not that bad as long as you can ignore the beeping,” Remus assured him, and then paused to contemplate. “...All government interaction? Did you get sold to aliens for being a tax evader?”

Halfway through Virgil’s resulting spluttering fit, Patton trotted through the doorway, Dee sitting on one of his hands looking just as untouchable as always. He stepped gracefully onto the table’s surface once Patton’s hand got close enough for a smooth dismount, and said something in the alien language, apparently fluently as all three of them worked themselves into a tizzy over it.

Dee turned to them with an expectant look, and they wandered over to meet him like peons to their tyrannical king, or rotting driftwood in a river.

“Congrats on the Klingon!” Remus grinned salaciously. “Did you know the ship name for the most homoerotic characters in Star Trek is Kock?”

“Shut up, it is not,” Virgil said, like a nerd. “But seriously, you know what they’re saying?”

“Yes, completely, I learned an entire language in one session,” Dee snarked back, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like short phrases such as ‘thank you’ are much easier for non-native speakers to pick up naturally or anything.”

Remus interrupted Virgil’s answering hiss with a very important query. “Did you teach them any swears?”

“No,” Dee’s eyes flashed in warning, “and you won’t be teaching them any either. Or any English at all. The longer we keep our conversations incomprehensible to them, the longer we’ll maintain what little privacy we have left. I’ll share the alien language with you both, naturally, so you can report to me on what they say when they think we’re not listening.”

Remus and Virgil stared at him for a long moment before exchanging glances.

“I can’t believe you accused me of tax evasion when Dee is right here,” Virgil complained, earning himself a sharp look from the man in question.

“Who told you about that?” he hissed, and then visibly remembered that they were in space and so it probably didn’t matter. He adjusted his cuffs, which looked absolutely ridiculous from a guy wearing a hoodie instead of a suit. “Ahem. Regardless, we’re learning their language, not the other way around. If they have half a brain between the three of them, though, listening to me teaching you will be enough for them to pick up on some English. We’re going to need a distraction.”

“You had me at ‘between the three of them’!” Remus announced suggestively, making Virgil fake-gag next to him. “Leave it to me!”

Dee seemed completely content to let him wreak his havoc, grabbing Virgil and sitting down near the back of the table, the side where the aliens weren’t.

Remus strode up to the three giants confidently and cleared his throat pointedly. When that didn’t work, he screamed at the top of his lungs instead. That worked no matter where he was!

“Alright, everybody sit down, quiet down, listen up,” he started brightly, spreading his arms wide. “I brought you all here to recite the annual obituaries. Like every year, we’ll start with A and we’ll end with Z…”

---

Patton blinked, absolutely entranced as Remus belted out words to an invisible tempo.

The little creature’s vocal chords were stronger than they looked, because their melody came out loud and clear, with accompanying charades that Patton could make absolutely no sense of.

Once they had wound down to the last words and then silence, Remus looked up at them expectantly.

“Wow, that was so beautiful!” Patton cheered enthusiastically.

Remus’s eyes rolled up in what was probably an exaggerated expression and not a medical condition, and they clapped their hands together pointedly. Patton hesitantly mimicked the motion, and then more confidently when Remus visibly perked up. Eventually, he was using all three sets of hands for maximum clapping.

Logan and Roman followed suit, clapping to congratulating the abrupt performance while whispering about the implications of it between each other. Remus folded over in a deep bow that was probably an accepting gesture, and then took a deep breath.

As they launched into another song, all three aliens fixated on them, one of the two humans at the other end of the table smacked a palm against their face, utterly exasperated.

[fantasy-anatomy-analyst]

(image description: eight sketchbook drawings of characters holding a variety of pride flags, all nude and posed in ways that match some old fine art pieces. The nudity has been censored with cute digital flower stickers. end description.)

Characters:

Dalmar, intersex man. Kouto, nonbinary. Chacha, agender. Parva, nonbinary. Xulic and Kidron, genderqueer. Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, genderqeer. Olli, demiguy. Sajak, genderqueer.

Genderqueer is kind of my default for "well, biologically and culturally, they already don't have binary sex or gender, so they kinda default to genderqueer." And I know maybe some people will be bothered by that, but it's just part of the worldbuilding I've written around all these non-human and frequently non-mammalian species of people.

The uncensored version is on my Patreon page. I do have one more drawing to add to this series, but since it's four child characters I will not need to worry about adding any censors and keeping the original image only on my patreon, as they will simply be wearing their pride flags as whole outfits.

The previous part of this, my binary trans characters, can be found over here.

detailed character descriptions and explanations of the pose references under the cut

Dalmar Ubora, a black intersex elf man with short black hair. He is holding his arms up as he holds the intersex flag, mimicking the pose of Virgin Mary from Titian's painting "The Assumption of the Virgin". The shading was washed out by the photo, but his belly is still clearly round from pregnancy. Dalmar is an interesting case, in that he was assigned male at birth based on his outward appearance, continues to identify as male throughout his life, but finds during puberty that what was believed to be an undeveloped penis was actually just a non functional body part. Instead, what actually developed to full functionality was his uterus. He still identifies as a straight cis man, and has come to terms with his body. He is married to a medically transitioned trans woman, and he could undergo operations to change his body if he wanted to. Instead, he has embraced his body and even birthed some children who were conceived via sperm donations. This is why I wanted a Mary pose for him, and this painting in particular is about Mary being welcomed into heaven as a blessed holy woman. Dalmar may not be a miraculous holy figure, but there is a reverence in the way he has come to love his body and chosen to bear children, including the surrogate birth of his brother's child.

Kouto Hayashi-Loryck, a slender nonbinary elf with black hair tied into a bun. They are holding the nonbinary flag and standing in the pose of a statue known as "Apollo Belvedere", which is so old no one knows the artist's name. One arm raised, one lowered, legs in the relaxed contrapposto pose. Kouto is an artist and an art model. Apollo is a god of the arts, and regarded as a beautiful and sexual figure. Kouto is bisexual and admittedly a very sexual and flirtatious person. They did settle into a happy marriage though (actually they are Dalmar's in-law and the sperm donor for the aforementioned surrogate birth.) Marriage has not stopped Kouto's flirtations, merely limited their targets to a singular person. It felt right to give him this pose, from a pretty well known portrayal of Apollo. Beauty, art, and sex, all defining traits of Apollo and Kouto alike, all present in a pose where the figure seems to be reaching for something above them.

Chacha Faraji, an agender black elf with short hair. They are facing away from the viewer, seated on a stool that is covered by the draped agender flag. No physical traits that could betray their agab are visible. Chacha is sitting in the pose of Reubens' painting "Venus at the Mirror". The arm closest to the viewer ends at the elbow, while they hold a mirror in front of their face with their one whole arm. Their face is seen reflected, smiling, little wrinkles visible by their eyes. I chose this painting in part because it did allow me to obscure Chacha's agab. They were my first nonbinary character, and I never really settled on an agab. But also, I enjoy putting characters who have unconventional bodies into poses associated with Venus or Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty. Chacha is missing half an arm, they are getting older and it shows in the wrinkles on their face. Chacha is also Aromantic and Asexual, the full queer triple A battery. The mirror pose has become an independence of beauty. "Look but don't touch." Chacha is beautiful, and they do not need to be beautiful for anyone but themself.

Parva Turbatus, a white nonbinary elf with shoulder length curly hair that has been shaved down on the far side of their head. They are holding the nonbinary flag, standing in the slightly closed off pose found in Paul Gariot's painting "Pandora's Box". One hand on their chest, one hand held out to hold the flag. They have top surgery scars on their chest and a c-section scar on their navel, though all of these have unfortunately been hidden by the flower censors. I chose a pandora pose for Parva because they have one of the most intense tragic backstories of any of my characters. Like Pandora opening the box, they have suffered through many things but came out the other side with Hope, and healing.

Xulic Vos and Kidron Engedi, a drow and a lizard person. They are sharing the genderqueer flag. Xulic has long ears and white hair in a braid, with a white monkey-like tail barely visible behind their legs. Kidron looks like a leopard gecko, and their tail is acting as a visual block in fron of Xulic's groin. They are standing together in the central pose of Raphael's "School of Athens" fresco. Xulic is pointing one hand up to the sky, while Kidron holds one hand palm down towards the earth. Xulic's chest is visibly flat, however I have rewritten the drow as a eusocial people, who's biology has made most of the common population infertile and visibly near identical above the waist. Xulic's agab is unknown to anyone but them, and perhaps their reptilian lover Kidron. Both drow and lizard folk have biology and cultures that do not really support a gender binary, so genderqueer suits them both quite well. I chose the School of Athens pose because these characters are scientists in fields that overlap, and they often get into deep discussions on the matter. Xulic is a paleontologist while Kidron is a geologist, and they have another friend (my protagonist) who studies archaeology.

Obeli (or Abuela) Moruga, an elderly goblin with sagging skin and axolotl-like frills on the sides of her head. She grins as she holds the gender queer flag, partly draped over the tall stool she is seated on. Her pose matches that of John Collier's "Priestess of Delphi" painting, which depicts a woman hunched over herself on a stool. Old Obeli Moruga, whose title best translates to "grandmother" is a significant figure in her community, both because of her more practical role as a leader and wise woman, but also because she has gained immortality and become an incarnation of Life Itself, after she was given the offer of such power when she nearly died in the goblin revolution. There are many figures that would suit her. Poses from statues of goddesses, like Athena or Gaia. Perhaps turning away from the theme of greek and roman figures I ended up with for my nonbinary group (dalmar is his own thing) and using the famous painting of Liberty on a battlefield. But now in her old age, all those poses of figures in more active poses, tall and imposing, simply didn't feel right. A wise old woman, hunched on a stool in a pose associated with the idea of an oracle, a priestess, a prophetess, felt much more fitting. (goblin culture does have specific pronouns for leadership, and in the common speech they have decided this translates best to the feminine "she/her")

Olli Moruga, also a goblin with axolotl-like frills, standing with the demiguy flag in his hands. He is in the pose of Michaelangelo's statue of Bacchus, god of wine, merriment, and madness. One hand up as if to salute with a cup, body leaning and perhaps a little unstable. Olli is a gay demiguy, stepping away from the naturally ungendered state of his people to embrace masculinity instead. He is extroverted, loves a good party, and has definitely been a little over his depth with alcohol on many occasions. He knows this is a problem. He used to act rebellious because of it, trying to be cool and aloof, but he has since admitted the truth to himself and now openly seeks help. His trans lover, Zaire (seen in a previous post) has become a great support to him. Even though it may seem odd to use the pose of a god of wine for a character that is trying to overcome an alcohol issue, I still feel like the vibe of Bacchus or Dionysus fits Olli well. He is not only a god of wine, but also of pleasure in general, a concept Olli embraces. Wild joy, perhaps to the point of becoming a little feral, abandoning tradition for personal fulfillment. It is unusual for goblins to embrace a binary gender, even partially. Gendered pronouns do not exist in their tongue, only being used in cases where common speech needs to be used to refer to certain significant figures, such as a leader. It is also unusual for a goblin to take a lover outside their species, since most goblins live in fairly isolated places and all mate together seasonally, depositing their eggs in a communal nursery pool. Olli stands out on purpose.

Lastly, Sajak, an amphibious person with some fish-like features such as their finned ears and a barely visible dorsal fin. They are holding the genderqueer flag as they stand in a commanding pose, one foot on a rock, one arm held out as if pointing to something below them. This pose is taken from the central Poseidon statue in the fountain of Trevi. Their head, arms, and torso are covered in dark tattoos in abstract designs, and they also have a few natural dark stripes along their arms and legs. The obvious connection between Sajak and this statue of Poseidon is that Sajak is a fish person and Poseidon is an ocean god. If I could have thought of a more medical figure, I may have made a different choice in the art reference. Sajak is primarily a doctor, a healer. They are fairly well known and they were an important figure on their home island, though they did leave eventually. Even so, there is a certain vibe to Sajak that suits the image of a powerful and unpredictable oceanic god. They are steady, intelligent, and careful, but they can become fierce when their loved ones are under threat, and the intense focus they show in their work as a doctor can be intimidating to see. There is a feeling of hidden power within Sajak, just as there is in the ocean when it seems calm. Fish folk, whether bipedal and amphibious or fully aquatic, also fit under my category of "non-mammalian people who are just kind of genderqueer by default due to their biology not fitting into a binary".

[gendercensus]

Purely out of curiosity, what motivated the supplementary survey? Was there a particular question raised by the main gender census that you're looking to answer, or is it just to expand the amount of pronoun data in general? Or something else? Thanks so much; I love this project!

Hello! Thanks for the nice words about the project!

TL;DR:

The sir/ma’am question comes up often, and when someone asked about it this year I decided it was finally time to ask about it.

Themself/themselves was raised in a DM conversation on Twitter, and I decided that it’s time to get some proper statistics about which one is more commonly used so I can make sure the checkbox option in the annual survey has the most common form.

So, the sir/ma’am questions were inspired by this conversation. It’s something that people ask about often, and I have mostly been confused about why people are so consistent and persistent about this one thing, because I live in a country where we just don’t really do the whole “sir/ma’am” thing! People ask me if I can do a survey about inclusive versions of sir/ma’am, and my response is usually something like, “just... don’t say sir/ma’am?” But it has gradually dawned on me that there are areas of the English-speaking world, in particular the more southern states of the USA, where not calling someone sir or ma’am will actually properly upset people and cause interpersonal problems. So, the most recent time someone asked me was the shove that I needed to decide that I would run a survey about it after all.

Before I could get to writing it up, someone DMed me on Twitter to tell me that they found it strange that the checkbox option for they/them uses the reflexive themself, rather than themselves, with which they were more familiar. When I originally wrote that checkbox option for the survey it was very early days, I had no idea how big and well-known this project would be, I just casually threw it all together with no particular methodology. I chose the one that made the most sense to me based on my own experience. Now that I was considering it many years later that reasoning didn’t seem robust enough!

I briefly considered adding the set they/them/their/theirs/themselves to the pronoun checkbox list in the annual survey alongside they/them/their/theirs/themself, to see which one people chose more, until I realised that the randomising of the pronouns in the list means that people might not see both they/them sets and therefore might just choose the first one they saw. My only option would be to run a separate survey to reliably find out which one people use the most often. “Most common” is the criterion I use for every other pronoun set when I add it, and singular they only dodged that bullet because it’s popular enough that I added it to the first ever survey with very little scrutiny.

I ran some polls, but after a few days decided I would rather have data that can be mashed about more thoroughly and reliably and published for full transparency, and then write up a proper easy-reading report for it. Whatever the results say is more commonly used is what I will use in the annual Gender Census survey from 2022.

[ Take the survey, open until 11th April 2021 ]

[theawkwardterrier]

and the last age should show your heart

Summary: In which a recovered Kate is ready to settle into normal married life; her husband makes things difficult; and challenging each other does not stop with the wedding.

Read on AO3

Although he could clearly see the progress of her recovery himself, Anthony insisted on having her examined several times over by the most reputable medical men in London in order to ascertain that she was truly through with her convalescence. Kate bore this first with amusement, then with impatience, and finally with distinct ill humor.

“I do it only out of concern for you,” he emphasized the afternoon he informed her that he had made another appointment (the fifth) for tomorrow. “It’s clear that your leg can bear weight well enough, but always best to be thorough. Were we to have an incomplete understanding of the healing process and thus allow further injury, I should never forgive myself.”

Once, some version of herself would have softened at such an expression of attentiveness from him. An even earlier one than that would have been astonished that anyone except Mary or Edwina would ever have so concerned themself with her at all. Those versions, however, had been allowed the freedom not only of all the floors of the house but of the glorious outdoors as well without an overly bothersome husband admonishing at every turn to take care.

This Kate, a veteran now after months of marriage - too much of that time spent indoors if not in bed - said testily, “Then it sounds as if your concern is truly for yourself, although it is I who has found herself most inconvenienced. In fact, as you have barely believed me able to leave this bed, it strikes me that these last few months have been startlingly advantageous when it comes to indulging your more wicked tendencies - and you have little anxiety over my injured state then.”

She did not gesture to the rumpled sheets among which she sat, but he took her meaning well enough, fingers stilling on the cravat he had been retying after their (not quite) brief midday interlude together. “That is unfair, Kate,” he said, ironclad voice masking what she suspected to be actual hurt, although she did not know whether it stemmed from the insinuation that he preferred her without independence, kept captive to his whims, or that he cared little for her comfort or enjoyment when in their bed.

Neither was true, so she allowed herself only another moment of stewing before she forced her eyes to his and said, “I know. I apologize.”

“Excellent.” He finished the knot and turned to check it in the glass, face smoothed cheerful once again. “Then Mr. Josephs and I shall see you tomorrow at half three.”

She cut her growl short, merely seething as he placed a kiss on her forehead and took his leave. (Even as she fumed, she could appreciate that he held back the urge to whistle as he did so. Just as she could appreciate that whichever tailor had cut his breeches was most certainly not paid handsomely enough for it.)

They had a perfectly civil meal together that evening, and a night which one would not precisely call civil but which was certainly enjoyable all the same, and when they laughed together over breakfast, Kate felt them thawing back to their particular normalcy. However, when Mr. Josephs failed to impress as he allowed himself to be forced to stay a mere hour before declaring Kate fully healed and Anthony tried to insist on a sixth visit, she put her foot down, literally and hard and atop his. He was quite lucky that she no longer had need of a walking stick or he would have had that to contend with as well.

“No!” The word came out nearly as a snarl. “I am sorry, but regardless of your misplaced concerns, regardless of your overprotective nature, regardless of whether I fall down a dozen times in the doing of it, tomorrow I am going to put on a dress and style my hair and take tea with your mother.”

“You could—”

“At her home,” she said, and this time, even spacing and perfectly bitten off enunciation and all, it was most definitely a snarl.

All of the Bridgertons had been excellent company during her recuperation - despite his considerable efforts, Anthony could not keep her confined entirely to bed, and she was able to venture downstairs to host various pairs and groups of them over the past months even when she was not receiving most callers. Their frequent visits provided significant entertainment and what Kate only half jestingly referred to as “dispatches from the outside world.” As such, she was comfortable in the drawing room at Bridgerton House even as tea with her mother-in-law expanded to include all three of her older sisters-in-law and Daphne’s infant daughter Amelia.

In fact, she was feeling more than comfortable, she was feeling rather splendid, having the chance to be out somewhere, stretching her limbs and speaking with people, even in such a small and familiar setting. While she was aware that one day this would be her home rather than Violet’s, an idea which still intimidated her, right now it was simply somewhere different from the house where she had been trapped for months and wonderful for it.

A good quarter hour had been spent admiring each facet of Amelia as she slept in her mother’s arms, and even that was wonderful. Kate could not keep her eyes from the baby’s fingers. How tiny they were! She could hardly understand how Daphne could sit so serenely when they looked delicate enough to break at a touch. It struck her that sometime soon she might have her own child with infinitely breakable fingers for whom she would have to care; even with her injury, she and Anthony had not been doing very much to prevent such an occurrence. One might say the opposite, in fact…

She drew her mind quickly from thoughts of her husband before a blush could overcome her face, and listened instead to Violet recounting the latest trials through which Hyacinth was putting her governess. The dowager viscountess sighed at the appropriate places and her tone was all motherly despair, but Kate detected a slight smile at the corners of her mouth. Kate herself was attempting to cover a laugh by holding her cup to her mouth, hoping that none of the others would notice that she had allegedly been sipping tea for nearly a full minute.

“Would you like some more, Kate? Or perhaps a biscuit to accompany? You seem to have quite the craving for tea today.” Eloise was unfortunately too astute for either her own good or Kate’s.

“Oh, I really—”

“I would quite enjoy tea and biscuits. Thank you for offering.”

Kate’s cup came down hard onto her saucer, mirth transformed into confused suspicion. “Anthony? I had thought you were spending the day on some business with Lord Ellsworth.”

“Ah yes,” he said, literally waving a hand through the air as he walked further into the room toward them all, his brother Benedict following behind. “We concluded earlier than expected, but he mentioned something which put me in mind of some papers which I realized are in the desk in my study here.”

“Where they remain even now, despite how imperative it was that we come find them at once,” Benedict murmured. Kate had noticed that while he did not quite have Anthony’s ready control of a room or Colin’s easy charm, he was still as witty as the rest of his family, simply a bit less loud about it, particularly in company. Although not, she thought, quiet enough, based on the glare his older brother cut his way; Benedict ignored it easily, placing both hands on his mother’s shoulders from behind and bending to kiss her cheek.

Anthony, meanwhile, gave up on his brother and moved onto pestering his sister. Well, not pestering, precisely. He merely hovered implacably over the place where Francesca sat beside Kate, and his patience was rewarded when she sighed and stood so he could take her seat.

“Don’t let him bully you so,” cried Eloise.

Francesca shrugged her slim shoulders as she moved to sit at the pianoforte instead. “I don’t mind. He wants to sit beside his wife. I think it’s quite sweet, actually. Very romantic.”

“See, I’m romantic,” Anthony said, leaning over to speak softly to Kate, although he barely needed to move to do so. By her measurement, if he intended to sit this close, Francesca could well have stayed put.

“Romantic is not precisely how I would put it.”

“How would you prefer to phrase it? Charming? Besotted? A steadfast and wonderful husband?”

“Trying,” she offered through gritted teeth. “Difficult. Unnecessarily meddlesome.” She considered moving into the bit of empty space remaining on her other side, but she knew that he would only move closer, and besides, it was actually quite comfortable to feel him pressed warmly against her. Still, she gathered her irritation as she added, “I truly don’t know what you expected us to be doing in your mother’s drawing room in the middle of the afternoon which would necessitate you coming to inspect—Anthony, are you listening to me?”

“Are you certain you would not like a footstool?” he asked, ignoring her entirely in favor of frowning down at her leg, covered as it was by the fabric of her dress. “No one would object if you needed to prop your leg. It’s only family after all, and everyone wishes you to be comfortable.”

Despite it all she felt herself softening at that. “My leg is fine,” she said, tone easing like a kite when the wind slows. “But thank you for being so considerate.” And then, because she truly could not resist, she added, “In fact, it seems that all the recommendations regarding moderate activity and returning to a regular routine are doing me a world of good.”

And likely because he could not resist either, he responded, “What seems good today might turn regrettable tomorrow. Only remember then that there is no shame in admitting that you have overexerted yourself and will be more comfortable at home.” A look of nobility which undoubtedly hid a smirk came across his face. “I shall certainly not preen about it should I turn out to be right.”

She spluttered, then glared, forgetting that they were visiting, that they were surrounded by other people. Anthony had always been able to vex her into forgetting herself. “You will not be right, but for taking that tone, I am going to have Cook prepare tripe and boiled turnips every day for the next week.”

“She was my cook first,” Anthony protested, likely turned a bit childish by the thought of such fare. Kate didn’t disagree; she would need to have an alternative menu prepared for herself if she indeed made good on her threat.

“Yes, well, she likes me better.”

“She does n—”

“Your tea, Anthony.”

Violet’s pointed voice startled Kate back to awareness. Judging from the looks the rest of the Bridgertons were giving them, ranging from Benedict’s vague amusement to Eloise’s relish to Francesca’s sympathy, Kate guessed that it was not the first time her mother-in-law had attempted to draw her husband’s attention to the cup she was extending to him. Anthony, clearly better practiced at glossing over such moments, merely took his tea and sipped at it politely.

“Delicious as always, Mother,” he said, all correctness. “I’m so very glad we were both able to join you this afternoon.”

Kate narrowed her eyes, and she would have kicked him would it not have been too obvious. As it was, she simply said, “Oh, yes, it has been absolutely lovely,” and decided that she would take him further to task when they returned home.

“Well, marriage does seem to have some practicalities to recommend it if nothing else,” Penelope commented as she and Kate walked down the street to the subscription library of which they were both members. The weather had shifted from a damp gloom to an unseasonable brightness, and Kate took in the air, refreshingly cool but not chill, with relish. “Had we needed to wait for my mama or one of the maids, busy as they were assisting my sisters, we might have been forced to postpone our outing for another week at least.”

It did still surprise Kate that she was now considered a suitable chaperone - at this time last year, she would have expected herself quite a bit more likely to reach such a position simply due to age rather than via marriage. However, she knew well the desire to make one’s unwedded state a casual fact so as not to cause awkwardness for others, and she suspected that Penelope was attempting the same now.

Studiously not thinking of her argument and subsequent reconciliation with Anthony the previous night, Kate said lightly, “Yes, not needing to be accompanied everywhere is one aspect which I have found to be worthwhile,” but did not dwell further on the topic.

Nevertheless, it was clear that her marriage was on the minds of others. As Kate and Penelope entered the library, several of the other ladies inside glanced at them and then immediately began whispering to their companions. Kate was not conceited, but she had little hope that anything other than her arrival had caused the reaction: Penelope, already sliding away to examine the shelves, had managed to leave the house in a day dress of pretty pale blue muslin rather than one of her mother’s more noteworthy choices, and the tongues had scarcely ceased wagging over Kate’s hasty wedding to the very eligible Viscount Bridgerton before she had quite publicly broken her leg and all but disappeared for months.

She had some friends, and her family of course, but never having been among the fashionable set nor a particular standout in any way other than her plainness and relationship to Edwina, she was not exactly a known quantity among the ton. In a strange way, her unremarkableness had made her even more an object of fascination.

I am going to have to entertain sometime soon, she thought with dismay. Else I will never have anyone used to me.

But that would come sometime later. For now, she could simply browse the shelves in the hope of finding something new and diverting. She had already devoured Miss Austen’s latest, of course, and Mrs. Gorley’s work was not precisely to her tastes, but she did think she spied a copy of Walter Scott’s Waverley just there - it had been published months ago, but had been so popular that she hadn’t a chance to read it before now.

Elevating slightly up onto her toes, Kate reached for it, fingers grasping the spine and just beginning to pull the volume down when an altogether too familiar voice said, “Ah, I thought that was you, Kate. Here, allow me.”

Her husband’s hand, warm and broad, brushed beside hers and removed the book, bringing it down to a more comfortable height with a bow. She accepted the volume with a brief “Thank you,” glancing sharply around at everyone watching before she ground out in low tones, “You just happened to be passing, I assume?”

“Of course.” He was all innocence. “Quite the lucky coincidence, I would say.”

“Quite.” Her teeth were going to crumble in her mouth at this rate. She forced her jaw to relax and painted on a cheerful expression. “Well, thank you for the assistance. I shall see you this evening.”

“You are most welcome.” Tilting his head with the smile she was certain had charmed altogether too many women, he added, “But must I truly wait until this evening? Surely I could accompany you for the rest of your afternoon - I am already here after all, and have little else to occupy myself.”

Hitching up her own smile even as she knew that it would do nothing to deter the gossip she could fairly see floating around the two of them, she said, “I am afraid that I am already accompanied. See, Miss Featherington and I were so enjoying our time together.”

Penelope had been standing silently beside the adjoining bookshelf, clearly relying on the wisdom of animals and small children that if you stayed entirely still and quiet perhaps you would not be noticed. Her eyes widened fractionally as she realized that it had not worked and that she was in fact going to need to step over and be polite, but she did it anyway, curtsying to Anthony and greeting him. (Kate had noticed that for all of Penelope’s wallflower ways, that manner in which she, by preference or fate, tended to fade into the background, she had little trouble speaking with Anthony, intimidating as he was.)

“Wonderful to see you, Miss Featherington, as always,” he said, bowing in return. “How fortunate my wife is to have your company. I wonder if you would not mind allowing me to share in that pleasure as well?”

Had the situation been different, perhaps Kate would have sympathized with the way Penelope glanced hastily between the two of them, trying to conceal the vague panic on her face. She might have even found it amusing. As it was, she tried to communicate without words precisely how much she had been looking forward to some time without the presence of her intrusive husband.

“Well, this is meant to be the ladies’ library,” Penelope finally ventured and Kate fairly beamed.

Too soon, however. Anthony waved a hand. “Ah, do not concern yourself. I shall step out as you finish your browsing, and then we can all ride together in the park. After all, being in the barouche might offer a respite for my wife, given her injury. What a splendid idea, Miss Featherington.”

“Oh, but I—”

Penelope’s words seemed to dissolve in the air as Anthony gave another one of his charming smiles, bowed, and left, the door clicking quietly closed behind him.

“It is no matter,” Kate said before Penelope could add any sort of apology. “You did wonderfully - it is no fault of yours that he is so persistent.” She sighed. “The park will be lovely, I am sure. And I did manage to find a book before he arrived.” Turning her back on the onlookers still gawking at them, she added even more quietly, “Next time I shall simply neglect to share with him my plans for the day. He will not find me so easily then.”

Beginning to look just the slightest bit mischievous, Penelope asked, “Oh, but will he not simply begin to have you followed?”

Kate set her shoulders. “Then I shall at least lead him on a merry chase about London, and see how he enjoys that.”

“It was lovely of you to accompany me today, but may I say, Kate, how unkind you are to allow your sister to learn of your recent exploits only through Lady Whistledown.”

Edwina turned slowly on the spot to face Kate as the modiste pinned expertly at her hem. Her expression, once fully revealed, was far more playful than her disapproving tone had indicated. Kate wrinkled her nose at her, but her sister only laughed.

“The latest issue had much to say regarding the ongoing tension between yourself and your husband. The two of you are apparently engaged in ‘a battle of wits and wills.’”

“Wills and whims is perhaps more accurate.”

“Regardless, she seemed to find the affair most entertaining. Her description of the way you tried to ensure that he had an engagement for fencing with his brother while you paid calls, only to have him bring two brothers along to join you - the whole thing was quite amusing.” It truly was unfair how Edwina only looked lovelier when she put on that impish smile to tease Kate. “Considering how sharp her pen can be, it is remarkable how affectionate she remains toward the pair of you. I believe she is quite taken with you!”

“Yes, her devotion to the idea of our love match is quite remarkable.” Kate turned away to examine some ribbons, although she knew that it would not dissuade Edwina from continuing the conversation.

And indeed: “The idea of your love match?” She could practically hear the appearance of the frown. “Perhaps it was not immediate, but now...Kate, the two of you are quite mad for each other and I know you too well to be convinced otherwise.”

Kate thought of Anthony offering a dowry for Edwina, the comfort of his voice, his reliable presence during storms, the way he always made certain that his family and duties were entirely taken care of. She thought of him with his hair rumpled and boyish in the privacy of their home, how with a few words, a simple stroke of the hand, he could make her feel utterly beautiful, actually cherished in a way she never could have imagined for herself. She thought of all the times over the months of their marriage when they simply sat together, talking of events both large and inconsequential, how he listened to her opinions and how she liked to listen to his (even when they were quite clearly flawed), how she appreciated making him laugh such that the burden of his responsibilities weighed less if only for a short while. She pictured the glint in his eye as he tried to verbally best her and the one when he had decided that there had been enough words between them for the evening and he would prefer instead to rob her of the ability to speak.

She sighed. “You are not incorrect,” she said, twisting the end of a white satin ribbon so that it curled around the tip of her finger. “It is only that—I have found it surprisingly simple to be married to him, but there has been little chance for me to truly learn how to act in this new time of my life. I am a viscountess now, a wife, and I can scarcely settle into either role when I am constantly wondering when he will arrive to try to distract me from my tasks.”

“One might think that it would be easiest to learn how to be a wife when your husband is constantly beside you,” Edwina noted, although her voice was kind if not entirely filled with understanding. “However, of a more pressing nature: it seems that you need not wonder long today.”

Puzzled, Kate turned, the question of precisely what her sister was talking about already on her lips, but found that she did not need to give it voice. Through the large window in the front of the shop, it was easy to spot Anthony striding up the street, eyes fixed and grin wide.

“Allow me to guess,” Kate said as the door to the shop opened to admit him. She placed one hand on her hip, tapping her chin with the other in mock thought. “You bribed my maid into telling you where we had gone and then simply happened to be in the area?”

“Your mother told me where you were with no bribery involved,” he said cheerfully. “And it did in fact so happen that I too had business only on the next street. Now—” He glanced around at the modiste’s assistant, who had remained ducked into a curtsy at the sight of him. “Please fetch the viscountess a seat.”

“I have no need of a seat,” Kate protested.

“As we shall be going soon,” he nodded. “Very sensible of you. Once Edwina has finished, there is a new cake shop I am eager to try. I believe that they have a confection made with lemon syrup which will be much to your liking, Kate.”

His outward manner was one of simple, practiced courteousness. In reality, she knew that he was attempting once more to win his way, but she also saw the smile, which was honest and directed only at her.

“I suppose we may add such a venture to our plans,” she agreed with a sigh. If nothing else, she would at least get some cake from the arrangement.

“Not to credit myself exceedingly,” Colin said as he and Kate walked together from the drawing room at Bridgerton House. “But I daresay none of my siblings would have made quite so good a partner, so it really was a good showing on my part to introduce you to Anthony and facilitate your joining the family.” The two of them had been paired together during charades following supper, and it was no boast to say that they had absolutely trounced the others.

“Not to credit yourself exceedingly, of course,” Kate said dryly. “Particularly as that introduction was made more in the spirit of your own entertainment than it was in hopes of our future together.”

“Ah, Kate, what a blow.” He pressed a hand to his chest.

Her mouth twitched uncontrollably into a smile. “You do not deny it. I judge my aim to be true.”

“Well, I shall take the acclaim for your wedded bliss, regardless of my original intentions.”

“Yes,” she said. “Our bliss.” But her smile faded a bit and she knew that she saw.

“My brother continues to exasperate, I gather.”

“He would certainly say the same of you,” Kate said, trying to tease. It was true, but she also found that she did not particularly care for others speaking against her husband, even if they might be correct.

“Oh, he has called me much worse than exasperating. Indeed, I recall—”

“You recall what?”

Kate turned just in time to see Violet fall into step with them, smiling briefly at her daughter-in-law before she turned to her son and said keenly, “Well, what is it that you were speaking of?”

“Only the tendency of your eldest son to irritate those around him,” Colin replied smoothly. “Tell us, Mother, did his nature show while he was still in his swaddling clothes, or did it only reveal itself once he began speaking?”

“Oh, hush. He was perfect, as all my children were, you know that.” She swatted lightly at his arm, before dropping her voice and adding, “Although there are perhaps some stories I could tell…”

“I for one would enjoy hearing them,” Kate said.

“Of course you would.” Violet’s light tone shifted just the slightest bit as she added, “You know, I can certainly have a word with him if he truly is causing you trouble. A reminder of one of those stories might serve well as a warning.”

Kate glanced over her shoulder at where Anthony was coming down the hall behind them, listening intently to something that Gregory was saying even as Hyacinth bobbed at his elbow and tried to interrupt. He really would make a wonderful father someday; in certain ways, he had already been playing the part for years now. She sighed, her heart softening a bit once again, and turned back to her companions.

“Please, do not worry yourself. Truly, all is well between the two of us, and I can certainly manage the situation if need be.” She linked her arm through Violet’s, a devilish little smile touching at her lips. “However, knowing one or two of these famous stories of yours might not go amiss. They sound ever so fascinating, after all.”

“How kind of you to allow me the pleasure of a dance,” Anthony said as they waltzed together a week later at Lady Vincent’s. “I have noticed you are less than satisfied to see me of late.”

“I would be perfectly happy to see you if only you did not force me to do so quite as constantly,” Kate reminded him. “And if you continue chasing me down and making a nuisance of yourself, perhaps in future I shall dance with your brother instead. If he is not much more accomplished than you in that area, these days he at least strikes me as less vexatious.”

“Who, Benedict?” He snorted, looking to the edge of the floor where his brother was sipping extremely slowly from a glass of punch, likely to avoid his mother’s latest attempts at matchmaking. “You are misled.”

“A pity. Luckily, I was referring to Gregory.”

“I had not realized they allowed waltzing in the schoolroom.”

“Ah, well, I suppose I shall have to make do with you. Only pray remember even as I grant you that, it makes you not a jot less maddening.”

Her coiffeur for the evening involved cascading curls; they fluttered with his breath as he bent toward her and said very softly against her ear, “After this insufferable affair has come to its end and I have taken you home, I shall remind you precisely how I can madden you, and how very much you can enjoy it.”

The flush which crept from cheeks to throat to collarbone and down along her décolletage felt apparent even to her, and she could tell from the gleam in his eye that he well enjoyed watching it spread. That look of superiority could not stand, so she mastered herself, leaning in to give a whisper of her own. “Perhaps I shall deny you such an opportunity and madden you in my stead. Turnabout being fair play, after all.”

“I should like to see you try,” he said, voice still low. “It has not escaped my notice that I am not the only one in our marriage with...robust appetites.”

The music was coming to a close; there was only a moment more for them to speak this way. She had the chance for the last word, and she seized it.

“Ah, Lord Bridgerton. You should have known better than to challenge me.”

Kate surveyed herself one final time with a surprising degree of satisfaction. Although Lady Bridgerton had insisted on expanding her wardrobe considerably before the wedding, there had been little opportunity to show off the modiste’s fine work; sitting in bed or around the house with her leg thrust awkwardly forward called more often for clothing in the category of old and comfortable rather than fashionable. Although Kate had never cared overmuch about how she dressed, wearing something new which suited her was a bit of a treat.

She was taking her enjoyment where she could these days. Anthony had become, if anything, more persistent in his intentions to find her wherever she went, leading her to make good on her threat not to allow him to pay her interest in a more private setting.

(Although she had obeyed only the letter rather than the spirit of his condition of faithfulness so long as she did not bar him from the bed, she had no worries on that score. He loved her, she knew that, and besides, between his usual responsibilities and his determination to chase her down at every opportunity during the day, and his attempts to seduce her all night, where would he find the time to stray?)

While her prohibition clearly seemed to have an effect on him, given the time he was investing in attempting to convince her to give over to him and the snappish manner he had taken on over the last several days when she had not, she was not finding the situation precisely easy either. As Anthony had pointed out, since their marriage, she had become accustomed to having certain needs met, and now that she was aware of those needs, it was most displeasing to have them remain unsatisfied.

“Excellent.” She jumped a bit at hearing Anthony’s voice in the doorway of their bedchamber, pretending to herself that it was merely because she had expected to have a bit more time to depart considering the appointments she knew he had scheduled today. It had nothing to do, of course, with the fact of him here in the flesh after she had been recalling that flesh so vividly to mind. “Are we going out, then?”

She ignored him, picking up the lead from the side table as she called Newton’s name sharply. Unfortunately, he simply continued to doze on the floor beside the bed. Holding back a sigh, she went over and attached him to it, which did manage to wake him. Instead of stretching and standing with any degree of dignity, however, he immediately leaped up, panting, and attempted to pull her from the room. It was only her preemptively planted feet which kept her from being towed gracelessly behind.

Although she had purposefully avoided eye contact with him, Anthony, still lounging in the doorway, said blithely, “I had been hoping to have an opportunity to take some air. A walk with the creature will be perfect.”

And that, for some reason, was it. Perhaps because it had been going on so long, or perhaps because she had spent the past several nights lying inches away but not touching him even as her fingers fairly itched to do so, or perhaps it was because Newton was behaving ridiculously, or because Anthony was insisting on joining them only to spite her (he did not even like her dog enough to use his name), or some combination of all of those factors and more, but her voice went quite deadly, coldly dignified, as she said, “My apologies, but you shall not be joining us, my lord. You shall stay here, and I will speak to you upon my return. Now, if you will excuse me.”

Luckily, his spine had gone straight with shock at hearing her tone, entirely devoid of teasing or requisite argument or begrudging capitulation; she did not think he would have moved over on his own enough for her to pass. As it was, even as she and Newton descended the stairs and departed the house, she nearly expected to be followed.

She did not expect the small pang which struck her when she realized she had not been. After all this time, she had managed to push him away and she was unsure what it might cost her.

Newton’s energy had flagged after less than an hour - the consequences of short legs, she supposed, and perhaps the interrupted nap - but she forced the two of them to stay out for a respectable interval. It had been hard-won, after all.

When she finally returned, she removed her bonnet, saw Newton settled and lapping noisily at a bowl of water, and spoke briefly to the butler and the housekeeper before she asked where her husband was and braced her feet toward his study.

She was somewhat surprised that he was still in the house, although it was entirely expected that he would withdraw from their bedroom rather than remaining there at her order like a caught child. The way he moved his pen across the page, all tightly wound fury, his choice not to look up although he surely heard her tread or her light knock - all just as she predicted. Even the way he spoke when he finally chose to wipe his pen, set his papers aside, and look at her, the ringing command of, “I will not be addressed in such a way, Kate,” was the voice of the viscount, precisely as she had known that it would be.

But she had not known she could respond similarly until she did. “Then do not require it of me, Anthony,” she said: the voice of the viscountess, although she had never before heard it from her own mouth.

He looked for a moment just as taken aback as she felt, the mask dropping briefly. It was enough to soften her, making her sigh and walk in toward him, closing the door behind herself. She leaned on the corner of his desk nearest him, hands clasped and resting against her skirts.

“Anthony,” she said, gazing down at him. “Anthony, this is becoming absurd. Will you please tell me what on earth you have been thinking of?”

He said nothing, mouth pressed mulishly inward, but he turned just the slightest bit toward her, angled his legs so that they were nearer hers, and she recognized the space he was opening. She reached down to take his hand, pressing it to her lips.

“Please.” Her words were becoming ever softer. “Please, I must know what is going through your mind. Will you tell me?”

Although she had heard him speak clearly mere moments before, when he finally began to talk, his voice was hoarse enough that he had to clear his throat once, twice, before he was finally able to be understood.

“It was your injury at first. Needing to stay close to you to reassure myself that you truly were well and would not be overcome, yes, but…” He inhaled slowly and deeply before he continued. “I am certain that no matter how long my life, I shall never forget the sight of you beneath that carriage, so still and silent.” His gaze met hers, and she saw the shine of tears there. “If such an accident could happen once, it could happen again, and I would—I could not have borne it had anything else occurred, but more than that, I could not take the chance that I might be away from you when it did. What if you needed me and I was off looking at accounts, or taking care of some foolish errand, or sitting about playing cards, or doing anything but all that I could to help you? So I made certain that I would be near you as often as I could.”

“Anthony—” she started, but now that he had begun speaking he could not seem to stop himself.

“I know the extreme unlikeliness of you breaking another limb while trying on gloves or sitting taking tea or what have you, but I could not take the chance. And beyond that...I know you have doubts regarding my foreshortened life. Nevertheless, your advice was to ensure that whenever my time comes, I would be without regret. And aside from neglecting the continued well-being of my family and tenants, the thing I would regret the most is not spending enough time with you.”

His hand, which lay so naturally in hers that she had nearly forgotten she was holding it, tightened as he faced her. “It took me too long to understand that I loved you, and longer still to realize that you have become my favorite person to spend time with. Having you at home for all of those months made it terribly easy for me to become accustomed to being around you for hours or days at a time, and even that might not have satisfied me. Truly, I am not certain that ninety years beside you would be enough.”

Emotion seemed, for a moment, to eclipse her ability to speak. She had the feeling that anyone might have reacted thus to such a declaration of love, but she was only just finding out what it was to be loved, that it was possible for her to be desired. She had spent her life up until the last months believing that if she did not remain a spinster altogether, her prospects were limited to those desperate for any sort of wife. Hearing these words from someone who loved her truly and especially was quite overwhelming.

Even knowing that it would not be truly comfortable for either of them, she could not help herself: she relinquished his hand and settled herself in his lap, pressing her forehead into the space between his jaw and throat as they both breathed together. He did not seem to mind the discomfort, holding her tightly.

When she had finally mastered herself, she said, still a bit shakily but making the best of it, “I must say that I don’t know that spending every moment of the next ninety years together is truly practical.”

She seemed to be able to nearly feel his answering smile. “Perhaps not, but one cannot make such a statement before making the attempt.” And then the smile was gone again from his voice, although she hoped not far. “I know that my mother wishes often that my father could be there to experience life beside her. For the larger moments, of course - when Hyacinth was born, and seeing my brothers off to school and to university, and for all the courtships and marriages and births to come - but for all the little in-betweens as well. I never—” He cleared his throat once again. “I do not want to reach the end of my life, whenever that may be, without knowing that I experienced you smiling at me, or handing me cups of tea just the way I like them, or telling me about whatever you have read lately absolutely as many times as I could.”

“What about hearing me play the flute as many times as you could?” she asked, holding back a sniffle. He really was quite sweet sometimes - as sweet as he was irritating, which meant abominably so.

Close as she was, she felt the wince even as he checked it a second later. “And hearing you play the flute, of course.”

“Then I shall be certain to play for you this very evening.” He did not respond but she resisted prodding him into agreement, choosing instead to say gently, “You know, I’m quite honored that you took my advice with such seriousness, but I wonder if you have forgotten the other part of it. Spending all this time worrying over regrets rather than settling into the wonder of each day...We are trying to build a life, and I want you to have a chance to revel in the array of it rather than attempting to hoard memories by volume."

“You think perhaps that I shall miss the forest for the trees? That in turning greedy for as many tiny moments as I can have, I shall forget to enjoy our life together as a whole?”

“Just so,” she said, relaxing further against him. "Not to mention the practicality of it all. Even if you were with me all day long from the time that you awoke - and I fear I would turn murderess in such a circumstance - but even so, there would be some second that your back was turned, some word or gesture that you missed. And besides, one day there might be more than us two in our family and I should hope that you would want to collect some fatherly experiences as well. Considering how much time you have spent only trying to follow me about…”

“How I should manage with a child or more I cannot think." Resting his cheek on the crown of her head, he sighed against her. "Must you be so impossibly sensible all the time?"

"Yes, I absolutely must," she said solemnly, although she was quite glad to hear his own good sense finally reasserting itself. "However, indulgent wife that I am, I shall make you a bargain: you might not be able to see me all the time, but we may arrange some—" She held up a finger for emphasis before he could get any ideas. "Some outings together during the day, and perhaps find some mutual activity to partake in. And we shall spend every evening that we are able together."

"I still will not have my fill of you."

"Perhaps. And perhaps I never would of you. But whether ten years or thirty or ninety together, we can make each day have been enough."

He groaned, leaning back as much as he was able. The chair at his desk truly was not intended to hold two fully grown adults. "Some healthy debate is one thing, but I dislike truly arguing with you: today was more than enough."

"Really?" She had begun tracing the buttons of his waistcoat, just lightly. "It is only afternoon. I can think of certain activities to occupy us for some time yet."

Before she truly registered the motion, she had been lifted into the air, his stride easy and purposeful as he carried her across the room.

"Have I told you lately how much I appreciate your mind? You really do have some marvelous ideas."

"And what if I had meant we should spend the rest of the day playing chess? Or visiting your mother?" she said, although she knew he could hear the joy in her voice.

"I could convince you otherwise," he said. "Believe me."

She did. Not that it would do to tell him, but she would not have taken very much convincing at all.

No one was overly surprised when Kate delivered a baby midway through the next year. In fact, if she heard Simon correctly as she passed his study at Hastings House before they announced her condition, there had been some playful questioning over whether Anthony understood the precise mechanics of things.

“Considering the amount of time you spend together, one would think the newest Bridgerton would have appeared already,” her brother-in-law had laughed.

If it had been one of his own brothers speaking, Kate suspected that the remark would have earned a swift smack upside the head, but as it was, her husband only replied, his voice like a hand on the hilt of a sword, “Remember that is my wife you are speaking of. And I’ll have you know that I could easily spend quite a bit more time with her, new Bridgerton or no.”

“Well.” Kate could not see past the cracked door into the room proper, but there was enough surprise in his voice to picture the Duke of Hastings with his eyebrows halfway up his forehead. “Apparently that is your wife we are speaking of.”

And despite the foolish masculinity of their conversation, it had made her smile.

She smiled quite a lot these days. Not so much when Edmund was being born, painful as it was, but in the months afterward, even with the baby so very small and fretful, she could not help herself as they settled into being a family.

In the past, she had considered the idea of waking with a smile to be the stuff of daydreams and silly novels, but no longer, and as she typically greeted the day wrapped in her husband’s embrace, she felt that she could be forgiven for the sentimentality. They always managed to have at least a few moments speaking together in the mornings before Anthony had to be up for some appointment or Kate needed to be off to meet her mother or sister, or her mother- or sisters-in-law. (Sometimes it was more than a few moments filled not precisely with speaking, which Kate found to be a rather delightful way to start a day.)

Afternoons found them often apart, although not as often as most married couples: few wives had promises of the favor of their company for a midday walk solicited so frequently, and most husbands avoided tea with the ladies like the plague rather than arranging to be welcomed to it. Seeing him appear in the doorway was always cause for a smile - although she did admit that it turned devious on the occasions that he realized too late that she was entertaining certain members of the ton who he typically preferred to avoid. It always suited her to have an ally, and as he was the one insisting on being present, he would have to take the bad along with the good.

In the evenings, so long as they had no other engagements, they would sit together after eating and share tales of what they had seen and done while apart during the day. He was well known for a most impertinent and absolutely entertaining impersonation of Lord Liverpool, but refused to allow her to show off to his family her impressions of the ladies of society - apparently it would give Eloise and Hyacinth ideas.

As if those two could not come up with ideas perfectly well on their own, and would regardless of any influence, but she let him have his fantasies.

Eloise herself took a seat between Anthony and Kate one morning as some of the family sat together in the drawing room at Violet’s new home. Kate, although she was now capably assuming the role of viscountess in true, had been a bit relieved that when her mother-in-law left Bridgerton House, the center of the family had shifted with her; she did love them all, but she was fairly unaccustomed to people turning up and going in and out at all hours. Violet was not even currently at home - she had gone calling and left her children with the run of the place. Not, in Kate’s opinion, a completely sound decision, considering the particular children involved.

Eloise, for example, had not actually sat between her brother and sister-in-law, but had more accurately placed herself practically atop the two of them: had Anthony not begrudgingly shifted over, Kate might have had to balance a grown woman in her lap along with her baby son. Leaning over, Eloise cooed at Edmund, who only smacked his lips together and yawned before dozing off again.

“How lucky you are, Kate, that he is still so small and sweet.”

Kate recalled how three nights past he had kept the house up until the wee hours and nearly had the nurse in tears. “Oh, I believe he is on his company behavior for you.”

“There will come a time where he has no company behavior,” Eloise predicted, nodding sagely. “He will forget all of your good instruction and simply stomp about. Or perhaps mope. He might take after Benedict - he was a mopey sort.”

At the sound of his name, the brother in question looked over from where he had been gazing absently through the window and pulled a face at his sister, although he ended up grinning a bit when she gave one right back to him. Kate was glad to see it; he had been unusually quiet over the past month or two.

“Luckily,” Eloise continued, “he will be at school by then, for the most part, and scolding him will be someone else’s concern.” Turning toward Anthony, she asked, “I wonder, however, how you plan to keep yourself occupied for the foreseeable future.”

“I beg your pardon?” Anthony said, in that familiar ‘your mind is completely confounding, Eloise’ voice.

“Well, Kate will be spending the next years child-rearing, and running Bridgerton House and Aubrey Hall, and playing hostess, and—” She waved a hand. “Viscountessing. So will you be taking up a hobby to occupy yourself until your children are grown? Fishing, perhaps, or gambling on horse races? Oh, I have it: you shall write poetry.”

Kate suppressed a snort while Anthony visibly gathered himself. “If you will recall,” he started with stiff patience, “I have my own responsibilities as well. And there is no reason for Kate to raise the children by herself - Mother and Father were partners in that as in everything, and we shall be as well.”

They had spoken of this before, but Kate could not help but bend her face toward the baby and pretend to adjust his cap. Each time she had heard him mention this, the delight of the thought nearly overwhelmed her.

When she looked up, Anthony was staring past Eloise and right at her. “And besides,” he said, barely for anyone but Kate. “I believe my time will be quite consumed otherwise, and well spent for it.”

“I would tend to concur,” she said, knowing that he was not referring to the music lessons he had recently begun, or even activities of a more personal sort. But before he could crow the victory for having gained her agreement, she smiled at him and waited, knowing that he would be unable to keep himself from smiling back.

[eriisaam]

Old scrapped concept of Ephrel, the dokkalfarian summoner.

Ephrel might have some tweaks done to their hair shape eventually, but otherwise, they were mostly as I hoped they'd be, especially given the context. In general, I wanted to strike more of a balance between how closely they resembled one of the possibly-generated Robinsonas in Awakening, but also have somewhat of a strong resemblance to Robin and Sparrow respectively, further going with the idea of what drew Chrom to the two (their similar looks). Otherwise, I was definitely planning on redesigning their clothes completely, where this was originally one of many ideas on open-back clothes with neutral tones to them that I'm still not entirely satisfied of.

I also did eventually want to draw their fully realized state as Spectabilis at some point too.

Character details under the cut.

---

Having been a summoner prior to Chrom and Sparrow, Ephrel was eventually succeeded (unknowingly) by Chrom, who later then became more officially succeeded by Sparrow as summoner. Having came from a world heavily tied with the Digital World, Ephrel would've originally been teleported to Zenith through Breidablik's power as their chosen. But right before they could be taken, Eitri among other forces from the Digital World all tried to intercept Breidablik at the same time, only to all simultaneously fail to retrieve the weapon, but in the process, heavily impacted Ephrel into an unstable, in-between state of existence. A part of them became a robinsona-esque being dumped into a World of Awakening, where they completely replaced Robin's role and went on to befriend and assist Chrom as their tactician. In this state, Chrom heavily bonded to, and fell in love with this version of Ephrel, whom they initially identified as 'Robin' as a name Chrom gave them in their memory-scrambled state, but would later reveal to him in private their actual name as 'Ephrel' when they had enough time to process and remember. In a desperate attempt to try to go after Ephrel in this state when their physical body became lost and distorted in their home world, and Breidablik itself displaced with them, it completely threw this World of Awakening off the rails of the original destiny laid out for Chrom, ultimately leading to Ephrel gaining forewarning of their fate to betray and kill Chrom, only for Ephrel to die to protect him instead, all while the fate of all Chrom knew were killed in ways neither could prevent, leaving Chrom as the sole survivor of his world.

Their death as a robinsona had the adverse effect of heavily corrupting what remained as a digital "echo" of their state as a robinsona (often dubbed "Mirage Robin" or "Digi-Grima"), which led to a rogue ghost of this robinsona-Ephrel wandering lost, confused, and in an unstable state of constantly seeking Chrom, but not having the "programming" to retain full self-awareness of themself or their surroundings (there's a few times they even technically found Chrom, but were so broken they couldn't realize and process it). Their fragile mental state when forcefully mashing the pieces of both Ephrel's actual persona, yet Robin's scripted fate as Grima's vessel, led to a very unstable "Grima" whose obsession heavily betrays the actual Grima, only wishing to seek Chrom and regain his love and approval again. At the same time, the actual Ephrel was restabilized, and Breidablik resurfaced once more, but in lingering mental corruption from their split displacement, Ephrel, in a psychotic break, completely disregarded their role as summoner or an ally of Zenith in favor of returning home in a near daze, only wishing to seek Chrom out at both lingering remains of the damaged state of digi-Grima as well as their confused, mental exhaustion from the sudden split. In their attempt to try and fail to get back to Chrom, the end result let to catastrophic damage in bursting Breidablik's power, sending the weapon to Chrom and displacing him into Zenith, but ultimately killing Ephrel's actual self in the process, along with one of their digimon partners, Leona (a Grappu Leomon, eventually reborn as Hina, who eventually was fully realized as Leopardmon. She came full circle.). Before Hel could get to them, Freyja, having witnessed Ephrel from the start of their intense wish to reunite with Chrom, stole them instead to force-feed them her nectar just before Ephrel's soul would've given in, causing them instead to be reborn as the dokkalfar Spectabilis and join her for a time as their right hand. Though they were eventually drawn by Robin's deep-seated insecurities and desperate dreams for a normal life with his found-family, this led to a domino effect of being sought out by Robin with Chrom and co, and piecing back together the memories they broke from all their intense stress and trauma, eventually finally reuniting Ephrel and Chrom in full.

As Spectabilis, Ephrel is regarded as the Dokkalfar of Longing Dreams, whose focus are on dreams that are the strongest wishes from the heart that the person whose source of the dream thinks is impossible to achieve, whether or not it truly is. Due to the ambiguous nature of their nightmares, Spectabilis maintained a neutral approach to dreams, rather than be inclined to cause the greatest negativity in a victim like Triandra and Plumeria initially do, being ambiguously inspiring in reminding a subject that the impossibilities are entirely on them and their ideals. Two instances they brought up such is recognizing Robin's impossible wish was to live a normal, peaceful life with his newfound family and lovers after hailing from a background of grief, misery and uncertainty, or Lyon's wish to reconcile with Eirika and Ephraim among their other party, but his deep-seated fear to ever actually face them, despite their expressed interest to speak to him. Despite being dismissed and antagonized by Peony for being a dokkalfar and misinterpreting the nature of their dreams, Spectabilis maintained a neutral opinion of all alfrs, including the ljolsalfar, and they eventually befriended Peony and Mirabilis throughout the events of Book IV. Freyja initially trusted and looked up heavily to Spectabilis and their advice in recognizing their inherent maturity from having been turned into an alfr as an adult (rather than as children like the other alfrs), which wound up deeply upsetting her when Chrom "stole" them from her, only for Spectabilis to be a key part in stopping Freyja's nightmare onslaughts and calming her and Freyr into surrendering. Despite recognizing Freyja's negative aspects and their supports' (especially Chrom's) justifiable misgivings to her in particular, they still hold some regard of respect for her enough to protect her and Freyr's life over the course of Book IV and reconciling with Freyja in her defeat, despite them having a tentative, distant relationship in caretaking for the other alfrs while having otherwise parted ways with the siblings, give or take minor visits. In her absense, Ephrel retained the role they served as an older sibling figure to the alfrs, but especially in helping Triandra and Plumeria better process their past traumas and struggles in transitioning to normal lives again in Askr.

As Ephrel, while they eventually gained the ability to regain their original form as a human through Eclair's stones and Lyon's heavy research in inventing a fae stone with it, the side-effect to this unusual craft led to them still retaining the unusual pigments of their hair color as Spectabilis (minus the floral details), an issue Ephrel never cared enough to fix, and thought it was neat enough to keep. They held a very lax, calm, "going with the flow" attitude that led them also to hold very little interest in reclaiming their role as summoner from under Sparrow, and in fact holding pride in both her and Chrom while engaging more to help them or guide them when needed. Instead of take back Breidablik, they primarily use their weapon, the Flower of Fate, still leftover from their time as Spectabilis that they could still call upon on a whim. When combined with Breidablik, however, it can turn into the unusual, unique digimental of Fate, fulfilling the role that Sparrow was originally exploited and tricked by of the original crest of Grimeal. Even after their time under Freyja, they still regularly use their powers of dreams and sleep-based powers to otherwise support and help others through complicated thought processes and issues, and have otherwise rekindled their partnership with their surviving digimon partners, Angie and Devi while realizing their lost partner Leona was reincarnated into Hina. This assistance with dream-based advice and focus eventually influenced other alfrs, in particular Triandra and Plumeria, who shifted their own powers to more neutral focuses between clarity and love in general. Though their eventual daughter in Lilium (a ljolsalfarian Lucina) eventually yielded another Flower of Fate, their flower and Lilium's are composed of very different flowers, likely sharing the same loan name due to Lilum being naturally born as an alfr, rather than be converted to such by Freyja or Freyr.

[nonbinarylowkey]

Hi its me again, that dude who asks about what would past Loki react thingy, anyway. Can you do a small headcannons where the “future” s/o was paired up with the past Loki and wearing some mask to cover up her face and stays quiet while helping him on his mission from the entire series. Pleaseeeee

Sure I can!  This might be a little different from what other people think because Loki doesn’t have a canon S/O to base the personality off of and this is just what I think his S/O will be like, but here we go:

At first S/O tries to distance themself from Loki. They might have to go on this mission together, but they don’t have to be close. And they’re not really interested in getting close to a version of Loki that they will almost certainly not be able to spend their life with. As far as S/O is concerned, this version of Loki is one that’s being used for certain missions that are best suited to his skillset, and then he’ll be set back to his own time to live the life he was meant to live before Tony’s botched attempt at getting the tesseract.

Loki is a menace about the mask. He doesn’t understand the need for S/O to hide their face. So he makes a game of catching S/O with their face uncovered. It’s extremely distressing when he manages it and S/O lashes out, nearly quitting the mission. It’s not really that they think Loki is in danger of recognizing them without the mask - this version of Loki never met them, after all. The problem is that when Loki doesn’t recognize S/O without the mask, it drives the nail in the coffin of the love they once shared. S/O’s Loki is gone. This Loki might look, smell, talk, walk, act like their Loki but he doesn’t love them. Their life together is done.

So once Loki sees S/O’s face, S/O goes to the TVA and demands to be let go from the mission. S/O refuses to work with Loki anymore. Naturally, the TVA doesn’t allow this. S/O has to carry out the mission. (I’m leaving the mission vague, I don’t think it really matters to this). So S/O goes back to where they left Loki and continues to lash out at him. Loki doesn’t understand what’s going on and thinks that S/O is just fucking batshit. This drives a bigger wedge between them.

Now, S/O and Loki are continuing the mission, but the wedge is making everything go wrong. They aren’t working well together. They keep messing up because they won’t communicate properly. They’re making stupid little mistakes that put everything at risk. Eventually, this culminates in S/O getting hurt. Loki doesn’t particularly like S/O at this point, but they are his partner for this mission so he takes them to a safe place and does his best to heal them.

During the healing process, Loki swallows his pride and apologizes for looking at S/O without the mask. He doesn’t understand what the big deal is, but obviously it was a big deal to them and this fight is putting their lives at risk. It isn’t a good apology. It’s not the worst, but this is a version of Loki that hasn’t had a chance to really heal from everything he went through with Thanos or even finding out that he’s actually a frost giant and his whole life as an Asgardian prince was a lie. So the apology toes the line between sincere and insincere. He says things that are more insult than a request for forgiveness. But it’s an apology, and it is clear enough that he’s trying to mean it even if he’s not doing a great job.

S/O just starts bawling at this point. The tension between them has been eating them up inside and they just can’t hold in their emotions and it comes out in one awful sobbing mess. Loki doesn’t know how to handle this. He just stands there awkwardly and debates the merits of leaving S/O to fend for themself while he finishes the mission now that their life isn’t immediately at risk. But S/O asks him not to go. So he doesn’t. Because there’s still a small, unbroken piece of him that Thanos and the Other couldn’t touch and that piece is the piece of himself that wants to be better. It’s the reason he’s helping the TVA and not taking every chance he can to just escape.

Nothing is really resolved at that point. But the S/O seems to do a complete 180 personality wise, at least as far as Loki is concerned. See, S/O had been doing their best to be the exact opposite of the person Loki fell in love with in their timeline. After Loki saves their life, however, they don’t have the energy to keep it up. The relationship S/O had with their Loki might well and truly be dead, but this is still a Loki. A version of Loki that their Loki once was. And their love for Loki is still there and while time might have let the intensity of that love fade, the TVA hasn’t given S/O any time. So now that S/O doesn’t have the energy to pretend to be someone else, they’re retaking the personality that their version of Loki once fell in love with.

Loki likes this “new” personality much better. So he and S/O get closer until after a while he genuinely considers them a friend. He opens up to S/O a little bit. He lets his guard down and becomes more of the version of Loki we get in Ragnarok. He’s still hurting and masking that hurt with wit and sarcasm. But there’s also an openness and willing to reveal pieces of himself that he never thought he’d want revealed.

S/O and Loki find themselves at a bar on some planet neither of them have ever been to before. They get drunk on alien wine and before S/O realizes what they’re doing, they kiss Loki. Loki, who thinks this is just going to be a drunken friends with benefits situation is like, fuck yeah! I’m getting laid tonight.

They have sex.

S/O wakes up in the morning, has a complete breakdown when they realize what happened and now Loki is thinking “oh fuck, I just ruined the only friendship I have.”

In the midst of their panic attack, S/O pulls out something that has always helped them calm down in the past, but gasp! Loki recognizes it. Turns out that S/O’s comfort object is actually something that their version of Loki gave them. It’s something that Loki managed to save from his rooms in the Asgardian palace before Asgard exploded. He had given it to S/O on their first anniversary as a romantic gesture of using his past as a building block to his future with S/O.

Obviously, the version of Loki that S/O is currently with doesn’t know any of this. This Loki thinks that this particular item should still be in his rooms in Asgard where he left it. Once S/O has calmed down enough to talk, Loki asks about it. How did they get this, why do they have it? Is this some sort of trick? 

S/O, out of energy for lies and wanting nothing more than to come clean about how much Loki actually means to them, tells Loki the truth about their relationship. It’s a long explanation, one that Loki doesn’t immediately believe. But he also can’t deny that what S/O is saying just feels... right. This version of Loki may not be so sure that he loves S/O at this point, but the idea isn’t repulsive. It’s nice, actually. And more than that, when he actually thinks about the time he’s spent with S/O while they’ve been on this mission, he realizes that there have been little pieces of evidence pointing to their past relationship all along.

But he doesn’t know how to handle the truth of everything. It’s just one more life changing truth he’s been given and while this is far more positive than Odin revealing the truth about him being a frost giant, it’s still something he isn’t equipped to properly handle. That night, he leaves. He takes the mode of transportation he and S/O have been using and leaves. Where he goes doesn’t really matter. He goes to try and sort his own thoughts out. To see if he can calm his racing emotions.

Naturally, S/O is heartbroken. They don’t leave the room they’d been staying in for days. They have meals brought to them by the staff of the place they’re staying in and wonder what they’re going to do now. As far as they’re concerned, Loki has rejected them and left them stranded on a foreign world. 

A few days later, Loki returns. S/O is furious. They scream and cry and shove Loki until their throat can’t take it anymore. Loki lets them do this because, well, it was a pretty shitty thing for him to do. And when S/O is done, he apologizes. Sincerely. It’s probably the most sincere thing this Loki has ever done in his life. Then he explains where he’d ultimately gone: to the TVA, to demand they show him any footage they had on his relationship with S/O. It was... a lot. Especially the parts where Loki and S/O discussed Thanos and the abuse Loki suffered at his and his lackey’s hands. But the footage gave him some perspective and he wants to do right by S/O. Obviously he can’t promise to be the same Loki they fell in love with, but he wants to build a new relationship. S/O wants the same. There is no denying it. They tried and it only led to this moment.

So they do try. It’s a long process. Things aren’t the same as they were with the other Loki. There are times S/O just wants to quit and there are times Loki wants to quit. Ultimately, they come together and create something beautiful. Maybe at some point they’ll have to deal with this version of Loki having to go back to the timeline he’s supposed to be in, but for the moment they have each other and they’ll fight anyone who tries to take that away.

So, yeah! That’s my headcanon for what would happen. You asked for small headcanons and I gave you 1600 words so I hope that’s okay lol I honestly didn’t think I’d have much to say, but here we are. And this is the version where I keep things sorta vague to account for all the things we don’t know about the show yet. Kept the gender of the S/O neutral.

[ofhellsbells]

@ofcupidslove​

The 21 Club, often simply 21, is an American traditional cuisine restaurant and former prohibition-era speakeasy, located at 21 West 52nd Street in New York City. The Bar Room includes a restaurant, a lounge and, as the name implies, a bar. The walls and ceiling of the Bar Room are covered with antique toys and sports memorabilia donated by famous patrons. The best known feature of 21 is the line of painted cast iron lawn jockey statues which adorns the balcony above the entrance. In the 1930s, some of the affluent customers of the bar began to show their appreciation by presenting 21 with jockeys painted to represent the racing colors of the stables they owned. There are 33 jockeys on the exterior of the building, and 2 more inside the doors.

‘21’ Club debuted America's original gourmet hamburger in 1950. It was cooked in duck fat, spiked with fennel seeds, and sold for a whopping $2.75 in an era of five- and 10-cent hamburgers. In dollar-adjusted value, that price is equivalent to over $25. The price today is $36, although the preparation has changed significantly — the current version of the ‘21’ Burger is closer to a classic hamburger, with a pickled relish and served on a brioche bun with fries on the side.

Belphegor had chosen this location (through Dean’s aid) because it served one of the best burgers in New York City while also being fancy enough that it might actually seem worthy of her. They rented out the whole restaurant for their date with Cupid, though that wasn’t to say that the rest of the restaurant would be empty. In fact, they made sure the whole restaurant would be full of loving couples. With Chastity’s help, they conducted numerous interviews with thousands of couples to make sure the restaurant would be full of only the most loving couples, so Cupid could be surrounded with a large amount of love and energy. After she finished breaking Lucifer and Levi’s curses, they imagined she would need something uplifting like that to energize her.

Once the restaurant owners understood what Belphegor was trying to do (and with a significant sum of money), they allowed Belphegor to decorate the restaurant however Belphegor wanted to. They planned out a design with Chastity’s help, but ultimately, most of the work was done by Belphegor themself. At the table Belphegor had designated as the one for their date, there were four chairs. In one of the chairs was a giant stuffed animals sloth, and in the chair opposite to it, there was a giant stack of boxes of chocolates. They put Cupid’s favorite flowers on all of the tables. Chastity had helped with that part. The flowers were actually from Cupid’s shop, but Chastity had told her that they were for a wedding. She’d even invented a pretend couple with pretend personalities to make the ruse more believable, ensuring Belphegor that Cupid had no idea the flowers were for her gift. There was one additional bouquet that Belphegor picked out themself for their table in particular. It wasn’t as cleanly or beautifully designed as the other flower arrangements, but they’d wanted to try their own hand at it too to show how much they were willing to do for her. They hung up decorations, and they cleared out some tables to make some room for a small dance floor and a stage for a band. They invited Snoop Dog, since he seemed to know a lot about love, and Bryson Bernard, who made the Cupid Shuffle and named himself after Cupid.

Belphegor was in their more confident form, dressed in a pink suit. There was a lot more effort put into their appearance this time. Their clothes weren’t oversized or wrinkled and were clearly tailored to Belphegor. Their shoes were actually tied, and their hair was neatly styled and combed. Chastity took several pictures of them in various spots both in the restaurant and out of it, along with pictures of the venue itself before she left Belphegor to wait on their date on their own.

Belphegor waited patiently at their table for Cupid to come and just entertained themself by listening to all the couples around them and watching how they interacted with each other in an attempt to understand how to be a better date for Cupid. They apparently had plenty of time for it since it was well over an hour since they’d asked Cupid to meet up with them. They hadn’t originally told her where she needed to go when they’d met up with her that morning. At the time, they’d focused more with supporting her and trying to instill her with confidence in herself. They’d brought her breakfast and kissed and bit her neck just like Dean had told them. They told her that they’d text her the directions of where to meet them once the time came for them to celebrate her birthday, so it could still stay a surprise to the very end. Then, they’d just left her to her work, so they didn’t distract her for too long. Maybe that interruption was part of why she was late, but it didn’t bother them too much. What she was doing was important, and they were proud of her no matter how long it took.

An hour started to turn into several hours, but they were still confident that Cupid would show up. “She’s coming,” they assured the staff of the 21 Club when they came to comfort Belphegor, apologizing for Cupid not being there. “She’s just running a little late is all.” They all gave Belphegor a look of pity, which they didn’t understand, and left them to continue waiting. Several people approached them like this as the hours went on. Nearly all of the couples thanked Belphegor for paying for their meals. They all assured Bells that even though this ‘didn’t work out,’ they’d still find the one someday. Belphegor didn’t know what they meant by that and primarily elected to ignore those kinds of comments altogether. There were starting to be fewer and fewer couples in the restaurant anyways, so they wouldn’t have to hear it for much longer.

Maybe she doesn’t really like you as much as you think she does, spoke the Void. Belphegor ignored them just as much, if not more. They might not have understood love that well yet, but they knew more than they did before. They were confident in the fact that Cupid loved them. She’d said it multiple times, and they’d always believe her. They knew, just as strongly, that they loved her too. It added to their resolve to stay here and wait for her no matter how long it took.

Another hour passed. All of the couples Belphegor had invited were gone now, replaced with other customers so the restaurant could keep its business going. Bryson had left too, and Snoop Dog had spent the past half hour sitting with Belphegor. “What I’m saying is fuck bitches.” 

Belphegor nodded, not understanding what he was talking about but just agreeing with him. “Fuck bitches,” they repeated.

“Exactly!” He nodded and sighed. “Aight, I better get going. I’ve got another gig in an hour, but it was cool kickin’ it with you.”

“Fo shizzle,” Belphegor grinned, quoting what he’d often said to them. “I’ll tell you how it goes once Cupid gets here and we finish our date.” 

Snoop Dog sighed and waved them off before taking off. “See you later, kid.”

“Bye!” they called after him and continued waiting for Cupid.

Eventually, it got to the point where it was near the time for the restaurant to close up. One of the waiters came out to talk to Belphegor. “So she still isn’t here yet?” he asked. Belphegor shook their head. “Well, you better order now, or you won’t be able to anymore. I can’t get her to show up any sooner, but what do you want to eat?”

Belphegor glanced over at Cupid’s empty seat. They didn’t want to order without her, but at this point they had to. “I’ll have the Speakeasy Steak Tartare, the 21 Burger, and the 21 Express.” They’d decided hours ago what they wanted to eat, but they just picked something for Cupid based on what they knew she liked. She would’ve wanted the burger, and the last thing was a dessert they could share once Cupid got here. The waiter went off to the kitchen to put in their order, and Belphegor continued waiting. After several minutes, Cupid still wasn’t here, so they sent her a text. They’d sent her several already.

[Sent 5:02 PM]: Hey, here’s the directions. [Link attached] [Sent 6:33 PM]: Don’t worry about being late. I’m still here. Take your time :) [Sent 8:21 PM]: In case you get here in the next minute or two, I’m just going to the bathroom really quick. I didn’t leave you, I promise. [Sent 10:49 PM]: They said I had to order now, so I just ordered for you. I hope that’s okay, but we can pick up something else somewhere else if you don’t like it.  [Sent 11:24 PM]: I hope things are going okay for you. I know you can do it! And if you need anything, just let me know. [Unsent 11:25 PM]: I lov

They closed their phone as the waiter arrived with their food. Belphegor thanked them, and they went off to help other tables. They waited a few more minutes, just in case Cupid got there, but in the end, they couldn’t hold back from eating their own food. They managed to finish it all, and Cupid’s food still remained untouched. As it got closer to closing time, it became clear that she wasn’t going to make it in time to eat her food at the restaurant. Belphegor asked for a to-go box, and put both her food and their dessert away. They at least had enough decency to not eat dessert without her. Still, they waited. They waited until the restaurant wouldn’t let them wait anymore.

“I’m sorry she stood you up,” said their waiter. “But honestly, with as much as you did, if she stood you up, she doesn’t deserve you.”

Belphegor scowled. “She deserves everything!” they snapped. “And you don’t know anything about her.”

The waiter held up their hands defensively. “Okayyy, but you still need to go. We’re closing for the night. I’ll have someone help you carry your things out, and you can wait outside for her if you want, but we’ve got to finish cleaning here.” Belphegor sighed, calming down a little to do what the waiter asked. The remaining staff carried their things outside, and Belphegor sat on the steps to the restaurant, still waiting.

[houseguest]

FE3H ATLA au

Okay, so this is going to be entirely self indulgent and probably really wordy but I really love atla and just started re-watching it for the umpteenth time so here we go! (BIG SPOILERS FOR FE3H AND ATLA!!! also if anyone wants to know more or if there are any specific questions about the plot changes or my interpretation of this au then please feel free to ask)

So first off, I just want to say that I’m basing everyone’s bending on where they were born, where their house name was established, their story-line and/or whether they have a crest, so some of their bending types may not match their personality or “style” but I feel like it’s a little more realistic

 I’m gonna start with Byleth, the Avatar themself!

Jeralt is a non-bender so this was a surprise to him, he was a little overwhelmed... he had a little experience with Airbending because he used to work at the Church but the other elements were a lost cause to him, he doesn’t get the whole “spirituality” thing

Byleth is not a master of all the elements by the time they get to the church, but they do know some very specialized moves they learned from wandering teachers and benders that were part of the mercenary group

They didn’t necessarily “start” as any particular bender since they aren’t really part of the other nations/territories, but Sothis is the Avatar spirit (this world’s version of Raava)

Their bending style is very rough, and usually involve other weapons, so they are very skilled in non-bender fighting techniques and hardly uses their bending during mercenary work so most people don’t even know they are the Avatar

On to the Fire Empire! 

Edelgard is a Firebender naturally, but due to the experiments, she became an artificial combustion-bender (with eye markings on hands not forehead, just to hide them) The stress of this new power turned her hair white

Hubert is a non-bender, but is trained in all manor of Firebending fighting styles and techniques. He fights with long-distance weapons like throwing knives and kusarigama (chain scythe)

Dorothea is a non-bender and still wants to be a singer, BUT she is a chi blocker too, and learned the technique in order to defend herself from stalkers and aggressive fans

Ferdinand is a Firebender and tries to compete with Edelgard in Agni Kai all the time. He’s actually a really good bender, but has trouble adjusting to other bending styles because he doesn’t want to stray from his family’s noble bending techniques

Bernadetta is a Firebender and she hates it. She is terrified of fire, and usually sticks strictly to bows. Her backstory is the same, but now we have the added trauma of her father being a Firebender too...

Caspar is a non-bender that is good at close-combat. He finds bending really cool and loves learning the movements, but is very dedicated to showing everyone how powerful non-benders can be

Petra is also a non-bender, but she was taught extremely specialized moves from her country, she’s a lot like the Kyoshi warriors in the atla series, but she is also an experienced chi-blocker and teaches Dorothea a lot of moves

Linhardt is, sadly, a Firebender. He doesn’t really like it, because he sees it as very violent and he hates blood and I would also assume burning flesh. He loves studying bending variations though! He’s one of the first to figure out lightning redirection

The Water Kingdom!

Dimitri is a Waterbender but he has a very aggressive, Firebender-like fighting style when let loose due to practicing in that way with Edelgard as kids. He tries to suppress it with calmer movements. He is good at finding water in tough environments and knows how to take it from the air

Dedue is a non-bender and specializes in brawling and close-combat. Bending is just a normal part of his day, so he doesn’t really care much about it and actually knows a lot of moves to counter other’s bending

Felix is a Waterbender and was taught much of what he knows from Glenn. After his brother’s death, he became closed off from everyone and trained his Waterbending all the time to catch up to his late brother. He is the best Ice-bender among them

Mercedes is, surprisingly, a Firebender. Since she was born in empire territory but fled to the kingdom, she had a hard time finding someone to teach her. She resorted to having lessons from Waterbenders, which developed a very unique Firebending style

Ashe is a non-bender. He always wanted to be a knight, but worried they wouldn’t accept him due to being a non-bender and his criminal past. He was even more passionate when he discovered an official kingdom group of non-bender warriors established by one of previous Avatars, Loog

Annette is a Waterbender and is extremely clumsy with bending ice. She is determined to perfect her bending, and attended the same bending school as Mercedes, so she learned some Firebender moves too

Sylvain is a Waterbender, but is just terrible at it. He usually sticks to weapons like spears, but still uses it sometimes for tricks. He thinks people only care about how he is a bender, so he hates bending in general. Miklan was a non-bender and was replaced as heir because of that

Ingrid is an Earthbender. Since house Galatea was split from house Daphnel which is in the Earth Alliance, Ingrid inherited Earthbending after years of non-benders in the family. She is very good at keeping Sylvain’s flirtations at bay with her powerful attacks. The betrothal necklace Glenn gave her is very special to her 

The Earth Alliance!

Claude, despite being the leader of the Earth Alliance, is an Airbender. This makes many people suspicious, but he dismisses it as much as possible, saying that one of his parents was a wandering Air Nomad or sometimes saying they were a member of the Air Churches

Lorenz is an Earthbender despite how strange that sounds. He is very formal about it, and argues why an Airbender is the leader of the Earth Alliance in order to raise his position. He later becomes a Metal-bender

Hilda is an Earthbender along with her brother Holst. She doesn’t like to Earthbend though because she thinks it’s too much work and too dirty. She is very good at it though, super skilled

Raphael is a non-bender that uses a lot of close-combat weapons. He doesn’t care too much about bending in general, but he thinks Earthbenders are pretty cool, mostly just because a lot are strong

Lysithea is a natural Earthbender, but due to the experiments she became an artificial Lava-bender. Because only certain Earthbenders can Lava-bend, Lysithea’s body was not made to bend it, often burning her skin without even touching the lava. The stress and experiments shortened her lifespan and whitened her hair

Ignatz is a non-bender and is a talented bowman. He finds bending to be beautiful and he loves to paint benders doing their thing. He doesn’t have much experience with benders, so he is very interested in what they do

Marianne is a Waterbender; a descendant of Maurice who was an infamous Waterbender that discovered and mastered Blood-bending. She can blood-bend as well, but never does as she sees the ability to do so as a curse. She hides her ancestry because of this

Leonie is a non-bender and looks up to powerful non-benders like Jeralt. She takes every opportunity she can to one up benders with her non-bending skills; she thinks a lot of benders feel entitled just because they can bend so she wants to prove that non-benders are just as powerful

The Air Churches!

Rhea is the high priestess of the Air Churches, and is a master Airbender. She is the daughter of the Avatar spirit, Sothis. Sothis was a spirit so she conceived immortal half-spirits. Nemesis (who is like Vaatu here) had killed Sothis’s physical form so Sothis kept jumping to different people, thus beginning the Avatar cycle. 

Rhea encouraged bending to be the highest social standing in Fodlan as she wanted to create an Avatar to carry on Sothis, so many houses tried forceful infusions of bending in order to gain status. There are only two living examples of this forceful infusion: Edelgard and Lysithea

Seteth and Flayn are both Airbenders and are also immortal half-spirits. They both take to hiding and reinventing themselves after every one hundred years or so to not gain suspicion

The only other benders in the Church are Catherine, who is an Earthbender, and Hanneman who is a Firebender. Catherine is the inventor of Metal-bending, and very well known and praised for discovering it