#but it'd be such an undertaking to try get to that point with her. and not very fair or pleasant for the other person

[charrfie]

are you planning any future pmvs/animatics after the jowee one or is it too soon to say?

Head in my paws after reading this question. Ough. Too many. I have way way too many pmv/amv/animatic ideas it's Bad. Here are some particularly big ones I've been tossing around in my head a lot lately:

Goreblog by 8485 for a cat girls pmv!! Definitely a bigger undertaking... but I associate the song with elle and tilly a LOT and feel it leaves room to illustrate their relationship in a really beautiful way. One of my fave songs by eighty anyways so bonus points. If I don't find the motivation in myself to do that one though I'd at least like to do a snippet from her song something bad and try to convey a similar notion, though it'd likely be a lot more simplistic, short, and elle-focused only

Speaking of elle, the bulldog eyes song letter is an all time fave of mine and a very underrated bulldog eyes song at that imo (who is underrated in general LISTEN TO BULLDOG EYES NOW). I'd really love to use this song as a method of analyzing her relationship with her mother

Flaky has been on my mind a lotttttt this past month or so, way more than usual. I've seen a few people animating something to this alt version of devi's bloodeater lately and think it's something I'd really love to do with flaky eventually! It'd likely be messy with line art/sketches only

These are probably my highest priority? Of course atm I'm holding zero expectations for myself in terms of getting these bigger projects done but I'd really like to some day and they seem genuinely feasible with what I have planned for them

[orangetintedglasses]

The way the undertaker went a little more quiet— mumbling his responses and focusing more on the food in front of him than anything else —told both Luida and their guest all they really needed to know… though probably Luida moreso than their guest, as he left them to their own devices fairly quickly.

That meant that there would be a bit of silence between them for a little while, filled only by the occasional shuffle of containers and clinking of cutlery or dishware, but the matron didn't mind much. Single-minded function or not, it was good to see Wolfwood eating; that he had an appetite at all after being unconscious for so long was a good sign that his body was functioning correctly… at least, on a surface level. If they really wanted to know for certain, that would require a few rudimentary tests, and Luida really didn't want to put the young man through that when it was…

… well. When it was fairly clear that his biology wasn't normal.

So, the matron kept her eyes down— opting to check on various systems and networks that she had access to on her tablet until she heard the clink of silverware being set on the tray and Wolfwood speaking again. Quiet, but clearer this time.

When she looked up, she noticed that the poor thing looked pretty thoroughly distracted.

"Glad to hear it." she said gently, smiling as she reached out for him and laid her hand upon the bed. Not on him, not touching, but close by, as a gesture of 'I'm here, you aren't alone' while still trying to respect any boundaries he had… and partially to keep from startling him out of wherever it was he'd wandered off to in his own head.

Luida canted her head somewhat curiously.

"Is there anything else you'd like…? Maybe we could try to walk around a little, if you're feeling up to it, but if you'd prefer to keep resting for a little while, that's alright, too."

Admittedly they should try and get him moving at some point in the next few hours, since—

"… we do still have about a days' worth of travel. At that point, it'd be more beneficial for us to let you off. You'd get there much faster on your vehicle than you would traveling with us, since the storm cell we're traveling through is shifting course for a few days."

The bouncy, peppy nature of the nutritionist is familiar, and strikes Wolfwood in an odd sort of way... like a church bell that's somehow off-key. It twists some knot that still has residence in his chest cavity, making him miss Vash even more than he was five seconds ago. Hell, even the red gelatin is making his heart do flips—'Vash would absolutely eat that first,' his brain automatically answers, as though it even matters.

Maybe if he closes his eyes hard enough, he can imagine how it'd taste on Vash's lips as well. Cherry—probably—it'd soak his already flushed lips with sugary-sweet juice, and...

God, someone strike him down with a bolt of lightning or a bullet, Wolfwood doesn't care which at this point.

He mumbles something incomprehensible, yet affirmative, then gently picks up the tray and scoops a spoonful of the jiggling ruby-red translucent solid-not-solid and brings it to his lips. The flavor is as bright and sweet as he imagined it, and it does shoot a pang of wishful yearning right through his heart.

Tastes like Vash.

Well, it doesn't taste anything like Vash, but it reminds him of Vash—

Vash and his stupid red lips and pink cheeks and sharp teeth and cute tongue and his bright hair that reminds him of the the dawn of the parent sun, or maybe it reminds him of just-sweet-enough lemonade, or iced tea with lemon at sunset...

"Fuck," the undertaker mumbles to himself, stubbornly slurping spoonfuls of the gelatin and filling the spoon occasionally with a bite of fruit alongside them. "Get a hold of yourself, Nicholas."

Whatever the hell they put in the food does re-energize him, at least. He can continue to put up with the bullshit of the day, or whatever. Soon he can go find Vash and bring him Home.

Before he realizes it, Wolfwood's downed all of the food he's been given—like he entered a trance state and focused solely on his own empty belly for once. He doesn't leave much room for conversation outside of his own idle, self-derogatory muttering

Vash... he gets to see Vash soon. Within days, likely. It's too soon—it's not soon enough—he doesn't know.

"S'good. Thanks," Wolfwood is eventually able to eke out, still clearly swatting away Cupids and ghosts. "Feeling better."

[mosylufanfic]

I have a rebelcaptain prompt for you (i was thinking modern au, but whatever catches your fancy:

Cassian is planning on proposing, and he’s getting a bunch of tips from all kinds of people. Most people say to get her a ring, preferably with diamonds, either one big ass one or several, but he knows that’s not right for her. He ends up finding something that most people wouldn’t think of as “appropriate” (for example a knife of a type of less valuable mineral.

The moment I read this prompt, I remembered my Valentine's story from a few years ago. So this is a sequel.

Send me a prompt for NaNo!

It's About the Bling

Cassian swiped through the website, frowning to himself.

"What are you looking at?"

He jumped and scrambled to switch off his phone. "Nothing."

His friend narrowed his eyes, setting their coffees down on the table between them. "That is impossible. You were looking at something." He narrowed his eyes further. "Something that you don't want me to know about. Is this a - " He looked disdainful. "A surprise for me?"

"I know better," Cassian said. Kay didn't take well to surprises or big changes. Or unexpected news. Or mild inconveniences. "It has nothing to do with you."

"That's exactly the subterfuge you would undertake if you were planning a surprise."

He grimaced. He'd probably better come clean right now or Kay might never speak to him again when he did find out. "Okay," he sighed, holding the phone out. "This is what I was looking at."

Kay surveyed the screen. "You don't wear jewelry," he said. "Especially not rings. And these look very expensive. Why were you looking at them?"

"Really?" Cassian said.

"Yes, really, why were you looking at them?"

"Kay," he said. "Kay, I'm, uh, I'm planning to propose. To Jyn," he added, as if Kay might think he wanted to marry anybody other than his adored girlfriend of three years, who lived with him, and who had a semi-serious ongoing war with Kay. 

Kay was silent for several seconds, then handed his phone back. "Today was going so well."

-

Kes was much more excited for him. "That's amazing, man! It's about time!" He pounded him on the back. "Wait til I tell Shara! Oh, should I keep this a secret?"

"Why?"

"Well, Shara and Jyn go to the same kickboxing class. But she can keep her lips zipped if she has to."

"What, you think Jyn doesn't know?"

"Um?" Kes scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah?"

"We've talked about it," Cassian said. "I wasn't even sure she was up for marriage. But she says as long as it's to me, she's in."

Kes looked disappointed. "So you basically already proposed."

"Not really. I mean, it's not official."

"Man, you really have no idea about romance."

"Just because I'm not booking a mariachi band and a glitter cannon for my proposal."

"Took me days to get that shit out of my hair," Kes said cheerfully. "But she was surprised."

"Glitter cannons aren't really Jyn," Cassian said. He wasn't a hundred percent sure it was Shara, either, but whatever, she'd married Kes. Clearly it had worked. 

"Please tell me you're at least getting her a decent ring."

"Well, I'm trying."

-

"Mmm," Bodhi said. "Hmmm. Hunh."

Jyn put one of his couch pillows over her face. "They're all glittery," she said.

"I mean," he said. "They're nice." He was scrolling through the email that Cassian had sent to Jyn, with different rings he'd found. 

"I don't do glittery!"

"I know you don't, but this is going to be your engagement ring."

"Right. That I've got to wear. All day."

"Your entire life," Bodhi said.

"Fuck," Jyn said.

 "Hey." He tossed her phone aside. "You okay about this? You never really wanted to get married."

"I know, but it's Cassian. It wouldn't be like being married. It'd just be us. Together. You know?"

"Yeah, that's what being married is," Bodhi said. "Just you, together. With a whole legal component."

"No, I mean, I never wanted to be someone's little wifey, making casseroles and shit. How's your day, here's your slippers and your newspaper. A house in the burbs. White picket fence. A dog and two-point-five kids."

"I think you've watched way too many old sitcoms," Bodhi said. "You know it's not 1956, right?"

"Right, yeah, I know, but my point is, Cassian wouldn't want that anyway. So I'm not, uh, like  - "

"Scared?" Bodhi suggested.

She bared her teeth at him, which was how he knew he was right. "I want to be married to him," she said, picking up the phone and looking at the screenful of glitter and bling with a resigned expression. "I just have to get through all the wedding shit first."

-

"Did you get my email?" Cassian asked that night as they were putting dinner together.

"Yeah," she said, focusing hard on the carrots that she was slicing into perfect round coins. 

He was teaching her how to cook, because the last time it had been her turn to cook at the firehouse, all the others on shift had dialed out for pizza without even letting her try. Which was a little insulting. But maybe what she deserved, considering she'd had to take a fire extinguisher to her last attempt at dinner, and she was still weathering the teasing from that. 

"And," he prompted. "What did you think?"

Jyn swerved her thoughts from finding fire extinguishers in her locker to the ring pictures Cassian had sent her. "I - they, uh - "

He switched off the burner under the sauce and turned to her. "Jyn."

Faced with his stupid big brown eyes, she folded. "I hated them," she groaned. "I'm sorry. I know you must have spent hours picking those out. But they're just - they weren't - "

"You," he said. "They weren't you."

"No."

He rubbed his hand over his face. "I knew that," he admitted. "But Kes was all like, you need a rock, you need bling, she's gonna want to show it off."

"A rock would cut my gloves up," she said. "Although, you know Cinta? The one in my EMT classes? She puts her engagement ring on a chain. So that's not completely a no-go."

"Do you really want a rock?"

"No," she said. "Not those. And they were so expensive. We can't afford that."

"Well, those places are set up with payment plans," he said. 

"Great. So you can still be paying off my engagement ring when we're eighty and feeding each other applesauce."

He kissed her forehead. "You'll be very sexy eating applesauce." 

"Perv." She flipped him off and went back to slicing carrots. "Just find me something simple. That's all. And less blingy. And not that expensive."

"So, something small and cheap," he mused. "Where's the nearest gumball machine?"

She threw a carrot at him.

-

He was still teasing her about it when they visited the sweets shop on the corner, their next mutual day off. "Look," he said, fishing around the bin of Ring Pops that Chirrut insisted on having for the children. "Green or purple?"

Baze looked disgusted. "Since when do you eat solidified corn syrup?"

"Since always, but not here. He's making fun of me." She leaned on the counter, squinting at his hand. "Here, Baze, lemme see your ring."

He held out his hand. It was a simple platinum ring without outward decoration, but she knew from listening to Chirrut tell the story that it had the date they'd met carved on the inside. It was thick and plain and secretly sentimental, just like Baze. "Why the sudden interest?" he asked.

"Oh, well, uh - " She shrugged. "You know. We're planning on it." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder. "Me and this idiot here."

He smiled, slow and quiet, and covered her hand with his. "Congratulations. I'm happy for you. Both of you," he added as Cassian came up, looping his arm around her from behind.

"Thank you," he said, kissing Jyn's cheek. 

She blinked against sudden tears. "Thanks. Um. What'd you do? You and Chirrut."

"For this? Ordered it."

"No, did you have an engagement ring or something?" How did that work? 

"We got married as soon as we could. We knew we belonged to each other. Who else matters?"

-

The thing was, Jyn did want something to mark her engagement. Maybe for Chirrut and Baze, just knowing had been fine. But she wanted something she could look at and touch and think, yeah, he gave that to me and I'm his and he's mine. 

But nothing they looked at seemed to fit. 

Solitaires and channel set and plain. Diamonds and emeralds and rubies. Nothing looked like anything she could wear for a lifetime. And so fucking expensive. Even when they looked for rings that didn't have anything to do with weddings or engagements, it all seemed marked up to the moon. 

"There's a gem and mineral show coming to town," Cassian suggested after one particularly tense browsing session. "Why don't we just go look?"

"You know what happened at the jewelry store," she muttered. They'd been asked, nicely but very firmly, never to come back. Fine by her. 

"I've worked security for the show before," Cassian said. "Nobody's on commission and it's a lot cheaper. Come on. We don't have to pick anything. Just look at things and figure out if anything looks even close to what you want."

"Fine," she sighed.

-

Parking at the convention center was a nightmare, and Jyn was ready to commit homicide by the time she walked in. But it definitely wasn't the jewelry store, with its bright lights and rows of glass cases, and the salesgirls with shiny white teeth and too much perfume not-very-subtly suggesting that carat size equated to how much Cassian loved her. 

This was more like a bazaar, crammed with people, booth after booth with something different everywhere you looked. Strands of beads and costume jewelry and giant hunks of rocks and rock-hound supplies and - 

"Meteorites," she breathed, stopping dead at a booth. "Really meteorites?"

"Got 'em on the Aldhani Plain in Antarctica. A lot of meteorites are harvested there because - "

"You can see them on the snow," she finished, reaching for one. 

"That one'll run you about three hundred dollars."

She curled her fingers into her palm again. "Shit, that's a lot."

"For that size and quality? I could get twice that online, but it's a special show price. We've got some smaller ones over here."

She hovered over the display, looking at meteorites that looked almost lacy, and others melted to smoothness by the heat of them screaming through the atmosphere, and others with blobs of different minerals polka-dotting their surface. 

"Hey," Cassian said. 

She didn't ask how he'd found her. He always seemed to find her. "Look at this," she said gleefully. "It came from fucking outer space. Cruised the solar system and then burned through the atmosphere. Millions of miles of stardust before it landed here for a bunch of apes in clothes to gawk at it."

"That's really cool," he said. 

"Look, this one's magnetic."

He smiled at her, then caught the booth owner's eye. "You got any jewelry?" 

She looked up. He mouthed, Just look, at her. 

"Sure," said the booth owner. "Pendants? Rings?"

"Rings."

He pulled out a tray. They were closer to what Jyn wanted. Simple, not expensive. Nothing that jumped up and down yelling her name, but closer. "Some nice ones here. What's your ring size?" he asked Cassian.

"Not me," he said. "Her."

"Oh, well, here's the ones for ladies." The owner pulled out another tray, this one with a locking glass lid. These rings were smaller, but considerably blingier, diamonds and colored stones glittering with blackish-grey meteorite accents set in the bands. 

"Oh," Jyn said. "Uh. Not those." She smiled tightly.

"We've got some simpler designs up on this row - "

She barely glanced at them. "Nah. I'm good."

"I could do a commission - "

"Let's go." She grabbed Cassian's hand. 

"Hey," he said when they were a few steps away. "Wait a minute."

"Sorry," she said, looking at his shirtfront. 

He pushed her hair out of her eyes. "You liked those meteorites. I thought - "

She shook her head. "They weren't right. Nothing's right."

He paused for a long moment. The babble of the gem show filled her ears. "Do you even want a ring?"

Her eyes shot to his. "You know I want to marry you." Did he think she was chickening out? Trying to softball her way out of forever with him?

"And I want to marry you," he said, intensely patient. Fuck, she didn't deserve this man. "Does it have to be a ring for our engagement? Can it be something else?"

She blinked at him. Rings equaled engagement. Everyone knew that. What else could - "Like what?"

He wove his fingers through hers. "Let's go look."

-

"Well," Kay said in the tones of a man who'd been carefully coached and possibly threatened. "It is unique."

"Yup," Jyn said happily, letting the pendant on its silver chain drop back to her chest. They'd decided to throw a barbeque as an engagement party and their tiny backyard was crammed with what felt like everyone they knew. 

"I mean," Bodhi said, intensely fair, "a meteorite necklace. It's really you, Jyn."

"Pallasite," she said. "Came screaming through the atmosphere, and it melted and reformed into a bunch of olivine crystals embedded in solid metal. Cassian, show them yours."

He fished his pendant out of his shirt. It was slightly bigger, and a different shape. But it matched Jyn's. 

"So you," Kes said. "You both bought an engagement . . . pendant? For yourselves?"

"I bought hers and she bought mine," Cassian said. "And we've asked the guy to make the wedding rings. Gold with embedded meteorite."

"And you proposed right there. In front of the meteorites."

"People clapped," Jyn said. "There's a video somewhere online."

"I don't get you."

"What's not to get?" his wife asked him. "You got me bling because I love bling." She fluttered her fingers at him and her engagement ring glittered. "Jyn and Cassian are like the definition of alternative."

"I've just never heard of a guy wearing an engagement necklace, that's all."

Chirrut said, "Baze, remember our old friends Rex and Cody? They did that, to mark their union."

Baze said. "1973. Matching pendants with silver and sapphires. Nothing new under the sun, younglings."

"I guess," Kes said. "But - "

"Why should she get all the jewelry?" Cassian said. "Besides, when the light hits it just right - " He held up his pendent to the light and twisted it a few times to different angles.  "Ah." He smiled. "It looks like her eyes."

"Sap," Jyn said, and kissed him. 

FINIS

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Closed Casket.

Commissioned by the very lovely @99shadowcat99.

Pairing: Yandere!Demon Brothers/Reader (Obey Me).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Toxic Relationships, Dehumanization, Codependence, Threats of Violence, Mentions of Death, Implied Imprisonment.

It was a closed-casket funeral.

For such a small detail, it bothered you more than it had any right to. You hadn’t been the one to arrange it, the one to speak to the undertaker and evaluate the damage – that was a responsibility that fell to her fiancé rather than you, a distant cousin, only brought up in conversations about postponed friendships and quickly thinning family trees. You’d done what you could to help, what a last living relative should do to help - paying for flower arrangements, speaking to financial advisors, sorting through her belongs and trying to guess at what might’ve held some sentimental value to someone more present in her life, but you never saw the body. No one ever offered, and you hadn’t known how to ask. She was gone, now, dead and buried, and you'd never gotten to see her, even if everyone who had said that it was probably for the best.

And it probably was. They were probably right. You wouldn’t feel any better, if you had.

And yet, you found it difficult to believe you could feel any worse than you did now, either.

Belphegor was curled around your arm. He had been since you came back from the Human World, slotted against your side, draped over your shoulders, and currently, splayed out on top of you, his face buried in the flesh just above your shoulder blade, his body forcibly tangled with yours in a way that was too awkward to be comfortable for both of you, a sacrifice he seemed more than willing to make on your behalf. You’d tried to shrug him off earlier, when he first decided there was enough space on the smallest loveseat in the common room for his strange, daily ritual, and when that failed, you’d tried to talk him into letting go, into loosening his grip enough for you to slip away when he fell asleep, into relocating to somewhere else, somewhere softer, somewhere with a pillow that could easily replace you when he was too busy tossing and turning to care, but Belphegor had always been so frustratingly picky when it came to where, how, and when he chose to sleep.

He’d chosen you, and he’d chosen like this, and he’d chosen now. There was little you could do to change his mind, after he’d already made it up.

Still, you tried. He wasn’t asleep yet, caught somewhere between permanently half-conscious state and a sleep deep enough to warrant medical concern for most living creatures, supernaturally inclined or otherwise. “Belphie,” You called, gently, pushing the temptation to try more forceful methods into the back of your mind. “Think you pick another spot? Just for today?”

“Can’t.” It was a simple response, his voice heavy with sourceless exhaustion, just as short and just as blunt as it had been the last time you asked. You weren’t sure what you’d expected, honestly. “You were gone. I can’t.”

Your frown deepened. You’d left for a week – nine days, at most. And Belphegor couldn’t have been awake for more than half of that. “That’s not--”

“He was lonely, sweetheart.” It was Asmodeus, this time, as he perched himself on the loveseat’s arm. He wasn’t any better than Belphie, nimble fingertips soon tracing aimless patterns over the side of your neck, the dip of your shoulder, taking up the space he could occupy since the space he’d like to was already in-use. “He’ll get better, in a few days. Once it sinks in that you won't be leaving again.”

You were out of practice. A month ago, you would’ve known better than to respond, than to ask questions to someone who took as much delight in festering doubts as Asmodeus did. A month ago, you would’ve brushed him off and found your way to Purgatory Hall for the rest of the night. But, it wasn’t a month ago, and you were tired. You were still thinking about that casket, and you couldn’t seem to think of much else. “What do you mean?”

“Oh?” There was a pause, a laugh, light and melodic and fluttering. You’d always liked his laugh. You could bring yourself to enjoy it, though, not right now. “No one’s told you, yet?”

“Don’t tease ‘em.” You hadn’t noticed how full the common room had gotten, not until Mammon spoke and you reflexively turned to face the sofa opposite to yours. He was standing, leaning against the back, his hands clasped in a way that’d put his anxiety on display far more transparently than his voice ever could. Beelzebub, too, his arms crossed over his chest as his attention shifted idly between you, the console in Leviathan’s hands, and the book splayed out in Satan's lap, his scowl serving as evidence of his annoyance. It always bothered you, how easily he grew frustrated by situations he chose to put himself in. It bothered you a little more, today. “Might as well spit it out, if you’re going to bring it up,” Mammon went on, shifting his weight, letting his eyes fall to the floor, then rise to the ceiling, then drift back to you. “There’s no point putting it off.”

“Weren’t you supposed to tell them, Mammon?” Beelzebub chimed in, absent-mindedly. If it'd been Satan, if it'd been Lucifer, it would’ve been pointed, malicious, purposeful. Beelzebub just sounded like he was trying to remind his older brother of something he’d forgotten. “You said you should be the one to do it, since you met them first. Then, when Lucifer said you wouldn’t be able to do it, you said that if the human threw a tantrum, you could just--”

“I didn’t say shit.” Mammon cut him off, his tone hostile, but it was a half-hearted anger, more petty than vengeful. “I said I could, not that I would, and Lucifer shot me down. If he hadn’t, there’d already be a deadbolt on every fucking door in the house. We wouldn’t be sitting around, talkin’ about it.”

“Every door?” Beelzebub looked confused. Then, he looked concerned. “I thought we agreed to just seal the exits.”

“I still think we should just use their bedroom,” Leviathan chimed in, never looking up from his hand-held. Something tightened in the back of your throat. Experimentally, you tried to pull yourself out of Belphegor’s arms, but he only held you tighter, and Asmodeus’ nails dug into your shoulder, rooting you back into place without a single word. “It’d be cool, kinda like a permanent save-point. We wouldn’t have to worry about baby-proofing the entire house, either.”

“We could use a leash,” Asmodeus suggested, never breaking his stare. He didn’t look away. You wished he would. You wished they’d, if nothing else, have the courtesy to wait until you’d left the room to start talking about things you didn’t know and didn’t want to know. “So we can make sure they’re always close by! Or, we could have Lucifer enchant a collar – having to hold a tether might get in way when I have to--”

“He’d never do it.” It was the first time Satan had cut in, but it was clear he’d been listening. His book was still open, his expression still concentrated, but he was tapping his foot, the disruption soundless against the thick carpeting, and you couldn’t remember the last time he thought to pretend to turn a page. He was listening, but he didn’t want to be. He was a part of this, but you doubted he’d every say as much out loud. You doubted he’d ever let himself admit he’d stooped to that level. “And if he did, we’d never hear the end of it. In a week, there’d probably be a new kennel in the catacombs, right next to Ceberus’.” He stopped, for a moment, shaking his head. For your own sake, your chose to believe the envy lingering behind his voice was his attempt at a bad joke. “You would prefer a bedroom, wouldn’t you, (Y/n)?”

He asked you a question. He was talking to you, now, directly, which was more than you could say for any of his brothers. It should’ve been an improvement. An opportunity, if nothing else, a chance to ask why Asmodeus was looking at you like that, why you could feel Belphegor’s careless smile pressing into your skin, but you hesitated, something catching in your chest. It felt too solid, too heavy, too rough and too jagged. It felt like it’d hurt to swallow down, later on, once the unease passed and you got over whatever scheme they’d planned out, while you were gone.

“I… What?” You weren’t sure what you wanted to say, but it came out as a question regardless, your reluctance blending messily with your confusion. “This isn’t funny. If you’re going to act like this every time I visit the Human World, I might have to stop coming back.”

Finally, Satan glanced up from his book. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve said he was smiling. “Right. Because you still think you're allowed to leave.”

The rest of the room fell silent. Or, maybe it didn’t, maybe it was louder than it'd ever been. You didn’t know. You couldn't hear anything, not over the sudden ringing in your ears. “I’ll have to, eventually. It’s not up to me.”

Beelzebub shifted in his seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’d be safer if you stayed in the Devildom. We can’t protect you in the Human World.”

Leviathan’s grip tightened around his console. In the background, you could hear the plastic shell start to crack. “We wouldn’t be able to see you. Not all the time. Not for more than a few weeks at a time.” He was quiet, for a moment. Then, he added, “It wouldn’t be the same. It wouldn’t… It wouldn’t feel like it does when you’re here.”

Mammon looked away, letting his head lull to the side. “You belong here, with us. You’re supposed to be here. We’re just doin’ you a favor. No one wants to watch you figure out how fucked you’d be on your own.”

And, finally, Belphegor groaned, exhaustion heavy in the gravely sound. He untangled himself from you, but the freedom was temporary, fleeting, his arms snaking around your waist, instead, his face soon gracelessly buried in your chest. His eyes flickered open, but barely, just enough to let him stare up at you through his eyelashes, a thoughtless grin pulling at the corners of his lips. He wasn’t divided, not like his brothers were. He didn’t try to pretend he was above holding you against your will. “You're not leaving again.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t even a threat. It was just a fact, to him. It was something that wouldn’t happen, that couldn’t happen, if only because his older brothers were willing to work so hard to make sure it didn’t. “We’re not gonna share you, anymore. We’re not gonna have to.”

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to be here, anymore, not if this was what it meant, not if it was going to feel like standing in front of that closed casket all over again, the urge to run and sob and scream silencing every reasonable thought you’d ever had. You didn’t bother trying to talk to Asmodeus and Belphegor, you didn’t bother trying to coo and edge and skirt around their anger, their unspoken threats, not anymore, not when your body was already standing on its own, shoving at Belphegor’s body and swatting at Asmodeus’ hand as he reached out, aiming to cup your cheek and tell you so gently to sit down and shut up. Beelzebub leaned forward, Mammon flinched, and you could’ve sworn you caught a row of long, pointed fangs flash across Satan’s sneer, but you didn’t care. You wanted to hit something. You wanted to yell. You’d wanted to ever since you came back to this damned house and its overly affectionate occupants.

“You don’t get to share me.” You couldn’t be shared. You weren’t theirs to share, even if they already seemed geared against the idea. You weren’t theirs to trap, either. You never would be. “I don’t need your protection, and you don’t need to see me, and the only place I’m supposed to be is the Human World. I don’t know what got into your fucked-up heads while I was gone, but you can’t just--”

“Sit down, (Y/n).”

You stopped mid-sentence.

Right. You’d almost forgotten Lucifer hadn't gotten a chance say his piece, yet.

He didn’t give you time to cooperate. There was already a fist curled around the back of your collar, dragging you back into your seat, the action so much more aggressive than Belphegor’s oppressive dead-weight or Amsodeus’ sweet, sickly temptation. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Lucifer looming over you, standing tall, towering above his younger brothers as he took control of the room. You wondered if he’d been here the entire time, if he’d heard everything, rather than just your sudden outburst. You wondered if you should hope that he had.

“We missed you, while you were gone.” He didn’t sound mad. He didn’t sound mad, but none of them did, none of them sounded like they were plotting to keep you away from your home, your friends, the life you had outside of demons and angels and magic. None of them sounded dangerous, either, save for Lucifer. He’d always been easier to trust when he wasn’t pretending to be kind. “We’ve all been alive for centuries, and yet, you went and made a week feel like a small eternity. Do you know how difficult it is for a human to inflict that kind of suffering onto a demon?”

You didn’t answer. Across the room, Mammon laughed and Satan bristled. Belphegor melted back into your side, more than happy just to have his resting place scared into immobility.

“You’ll stay.” It was an order, this time. Not a suggestion, not a passing concern, but a command, something you would be expected to obey. He had the nerve to use that low, calm cadence, measured and pre-meditated. He didn’t want to let you convince yourself he was as prone to bluffing as his brothers were. “You’ll stay because we want you to. We’re willing to use force, but there’s no need for that. Is there, love?”

You nodded, your body tense and your eyes glassy, and Lucifer rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a row of knuckles delicately pressed to your cheek. A miserable reward for such an unwilling sacrifice, but Lucifer didn’t seem to mind. It certainly didn’t stop him from leaning in, his lips brushing against the top of your head, his voice falling just low enough to make something sharp and cold shot down your spine, as he went on.

“It’s not like you have anything to go back to, anymore.”

[mickules]

Ok, but the way Taka’s eyes light up when he discovers flavors and is just like, “what have I been missing out on my whole life?!”

Imagine if Mondo just proceeds to take Taka around to try a bunch of different foods. The looks of wonder and innocence in his eyes is almost enough to cover the hole in Mondo’s wallet

[from this ask] It would absolutely be one of Mondo's favourite things, but soon the class find out, and they all want to get in on getting Taka to try their favourite food.

[one of the minicomics this ask dump] Some have been privy to seeing Taka eat a sub sandwich in 3 bites, and they would not like to repeat the experience.

---

Junko was incredibly disappointed when it was discovered Taka is a SPICE FIEND. She has yet to find a food he actively dislikes, and so far no amount of threats from Mondo has made her give up the search.

---

Taka doesn't like to dwell on his upbringing as part and parcel of his whole ethos of determination, so wouldn't bring it up voluntarily. Taka tends to unconsciously avoid eating around people so it's a long while before anyone notices his habits, and even longer for them to get him to recognise it as unhealthy and not 'efficient'

Eventually, in frustration, he points out that: "Akane eats like me, does that mean she has unhealthy eating habits too?" to a chorus of blank faces and the gentle explanation of: " . . . Taka . . . Akane's got the worst eating habits" From there it becomes a simple matter for his friends to join the dots between Akane's childhood poverty - Taka's family debt - and their shared defensive eating. When he finds out about Akane's background it does give Taka some piece of mind to know there's someone who understands some of his struggles and lost childhood - Akane and Taka don't always see eye to eye, but they do end up bonding tremendously over it and their efforts to get healthier.

[from this group of asks!] Whilst Byakuya almost definitely has employees to undertake such tasks, I can see a busybody like Taka, only intending to drop off some study notes for Byakuya, inadvertently insinuating himself onto the organisation committee. Taka, completely by accident, ends up with a paid position on Byakuya's staff (since you know Byakuya couldn't just ask for a favour like a normal person)

---

Byakuya has an eye for theatrics; imagine the optics! Fellow attendees scoffing at the young, clearly inexperienced heir, I mean look at his woeful choice of guest from that disgraced family! Only to discover that the elaborate evening they've been enjoying was completely organised by said guest, and then seeing that same guest yeet a man twice his size out of the convention hall. That'd definitely add to the notorious Togami reputation.

---

Business spokesmen aren't always strictly at business events; they're usually also patrons or donors to societies, charities and political parties, so there's a slew of different events it could be. In fact it'd be even more poignant if it was a political fundraiser, or something of that nature. Since Taka is an unwelcome reminder to his maternal family of their previous failed foray into gaining more political leverage; it's even funnier if Byakuya is actively trying to shove that in their faces.

--

Taka can't catch a break - both his grandfathers are pricks. Righteously indignant Taka is excellent, but I have to admit I have a soft spot for bitingly petty Taka, even if it's it's a little out of character for him: "I cannot imagine your embarrassment then Chairman; as it is an Ishimaru who had to remind you to behave in a manner befitting the dignity of your station."

Taka might have a resolve of steel when it comes to remaining civil in difficult negative situations; In positive situations however? He's not as well practiced. . . Or: Taka finds out he rather likes adrenaline really.

He was blinded by his morals and nothing else.

@starlightmedow It's got to be easy to catch some parental feels when it comes to Chihiro. You know Mondo and Taka wouldn't be down for the babying kind - but rather the nurturing, too loud cheering on in the crowd kind. Think the muscle improvement club from Mob Psycho 100

---

"One of these things is not like the others ~ one of these things just doesn't bel~ong!" (It's mothman; he's the only cryptid) In all honesty a rabbit works well for Chihiro. Adorable, but when faced off against a predator? Rabbits can be FIERCE!

I like the idea of all the programs interacting with each other! Alter ego as the more experienced and proactive learner helping the others, Chiaki being hesitant but smart and willing, whereas Usami is very enthusiastic but the least knowledgeable. Chihiro watching over all of 'em It's a fun dynamic! (I have to admit I do prefer Chiaki as a completely fabricated AI rather than based on an actual person, which I know is how it ends up shaking out in canon; her slow yet intelligent demeanour reminded me of an old desktop resolutely chugging along)

@starrygatorr aka: Taka is gaslit by a child That certainly sounds like an AU with a lot of juicy potential to it! Taka doesn't seem the sort to be well liked by children due to his strict nature and perma-scowl. He'd be delighted to be approached by any of the children - it's a shame it happened to be the emotionally-manipulative, mini-megalomaniac! That being said, flipping it on its head, Taka's sheer bullheadedness and obliviousness might act as a natural counter-agent to Monaca's stratagem of picking at insecurities, making him someone who doesn't get side-tracked by her normal tactics (but also making Mondo a much more attractive target for her schemes . . .) All in all, there's a lot you can play with there! Noice!

---

[from this comic] You know what; Junko pretty much canonically just goes around nicking other people's ideas and smushing them into her killing game anyway! Hell I don't think she even came up with monokuma on her own

"smoothie of ambiguous content" is a true Mukuro mood

---

[from this ask again] Mukuro's not one to mince her words after all XD

@spacepaprika The idea of the Ultimate Moral Compass just flat out admitting to a criminal record is unironically hilarious to me - especially given Makoto 'I pissed the bed' Naegi's "dark secret". However I think a criminal record would probably kill any chances he had of becoming Prime Minister. I do have my own idea of what that secret might be, and I plan to put it in a comic . . . 👀 without context - it involves him having been expelled from his middle school *sows seeds of intrigue*

---

@darkephantylight191 Mondo never pulled any pranks himself, but he certainly didn't stop anyone else from doing it. He was the most vocal and blatant about breaking the few rules Hope's Peak actually has and basically constantly found himself in Taka's crosshairs, and Taka wouldn't let even the smallest infraction go. Essentially they both riled the other up, sometimes completely intentionally as they'd both assumed the other was exactly the type of person they hated, without actually finding out if that was true or not.

(next set of asks [about daiya’s accident]) (previous set of asks [about the parent trap AU])

[local-susie-deltarune-fan]

[Five days.] [It's been five days since you woke up for the first time.] [Four and a half since the second time! Haha! …No need to linger.] [You haven't tried contacting your stardust. You. Siffrin.] [Ever since your successful attempt on your own life That only made you loop AGAIN why AGAIN??? WHY??? you've been looking for some quality information.] [It seems you've been made as a near identical copy of your darling stardust due to the fact you only have one eye not the right one AND craft exhaustion. You don't remember ever getting craft exhausted but you might have if you actually esca but it's whatever!!!] [Beau has been surprisingly pleasant company. You started teaching him some more Vaugardian due to someone not being able to speak being a bad conversation partner, and you feel slightly guilty for pushing him to- but you aren't sure that was the best idea.] "Shining One- er-" ["Saffron, Beau."] [He has some of the name troubles you used to have. You did use to have name troubles, right? Not the point. He remembers at least not to call you Bright one.] "Yes, Siffrin! I was going to ask if you were awake, but it seems you are. …Did I wake you?" [He's so anxious it'd be almost cute if it wasn't pathetic. He wants to impress you, you think.] ["Don't worry about it, Beau. It's 8:23 in the evening."] "Ah. Thank you, Shin- Saffron." [As for the name change, it's was initially just so it was easier to pronounce for him, but any difference from your Stardust has become… Thrilling. You aren't about to go throwing everything away- that wouldn't be fair to Beau, but it's nice.] [One of the Housemaidens comes in. You think her name is Edie. Comedy mask on.] ["Ah! Hello, Edie~"] "Edith, Saffron." [Your eye twitches.] ["Sorry, Edie."] "Hmph. Well, you're both good enough to be sent to a benefactor for temporary housing, if you wish."

"Oh! That'd be wonderful, Kind One!" ["I agree with Beau here, the sooner I'm out of this place, the better!"] [You're smiling but it doesn't reach your eyes. You've been dying to get a look at their library. Anything for an explanation.] [The Housemaiden looks you over, she sees right through you. You hate it you hate it you hate it it reminds you of…] [Who does it remind you of? Whatever! What. Ever!!!!] "I'll give you two one day to get ready. We've already got somebody willing to take you in for a time. I'll come along to ensure your healthy arrival and inform your caretaker of the responsibilities they are going to have to undertake with your…" [Her eyes dart over to Beau and back to you] "unique cases, but then we'll be out of each other's hair for the foreseeable future." [The Housemaiden has been trying to get through to you for the whole time you've been here, but they're going up against an expert at this.] […During the third day, she told you about her mother, for some reason. You think she was trying to connect with you over parents but you don't remember yours. Something about half-siblings? You don't care to recollect. You didn't come here for a lecture on Change.] "Isn't this wonderful, Shining One?" [She left- and Beau is talking to you. Comedy mask off, but you do try to be… Hospitable.] ["Of course, Beau. I'm ready to get out of here! I'm ready to sleep, though. Talk to you tomorrow?"] [He gives you a strange stern look, and nods. He lies down, stiff as a dead body.] ["You're not gonna fall asleep like that. What's the issue?"] […] [He sighs.] "Do you not like me?" […Oh. He- …] [It's best if you tell the truth. You've been caught off guard and don't know how dangerous he is.]

["I've had… Bad experiences with protector types. …Part of the reason I'm here, actually!"] [Technically the truth.] "I see… But what about me?" […] ["I don't know. I don't know what I think about you. I thought I hated you but you're just… I don't know. I don't like you, but I don't mind spending time with you. And I'd prefer if I could keep an eye on you for now."] "Of course." [There's a pause. You aren't used to doing feelings talks.] "I can protect you!" [You almost choke on your laughter, you barely manage to stifle it, but he still looks slightly offended.] "What?" ["Beau, I don't know if you know this, but I'm pretty strong, even without craft. If anything, I'd protect you."] [He flushes with embarrassment.] ["But uh… Thanks for talking with me about the fee-fees."] "Fee-fees?" ["Ling-lings~"] "Oh! I see! Very funny, Saff." […A nickname?] "Is that okay? I don't-" ["No no- I liked it."] "Oh. Good." ["Yeah, good…"] ["Thanks, B."] "Yeah." [You sleep, and you do not dream of a twin-headed ouroboros consuming itself, nor being eaten by a star, nor burning up as your friends not YOURS they AREN'T laugh. You dream of pleasant conversations by a favor tree with someone you don't know.]

[Your time is done. You're satisfied.]

[You couldn't take your role back, but that's his fault for leaving you alone. You're satisfied.]

[You're satisfied. You fade at last.]

...

[You feel a thread pulled to its limits. A fire burning hot hot hot and something breaking, failing, rotting. You gag on nothing as starlight beams out of your eyes and mouth.]

[The string pulls, choking you as you attempt to scream, but you have no mouth. You attempt to cry, but you have no eyes.]

[The thread snaps.]

[You feel a pulling in your head.]

[And you feel your heart..

p

o

p

]

[You wake up in a room. The first thing you take in is UNIMAGINABLE PAIN. You scream and scream and scream- there are footsteps. You hear the familiar sound of healing craft as the pain subsides the slightest bit. Not enough to be anywhere near comfortable, but you aren't screaming anymore.]

[You sit up, hands grasping at what you realize far too late are bedsheets. They rip in your hands, piercing craft chugging through your fingertips like the drip drip drip of blood.]

[You're already babbling apologies when]-

"Oh thank goodness you're awake, bright stranger."

[That voice. Not from the healer you don't recognize them but you turn to the neighboring bed- you're in an infirmary? -and see another stranger.]

[You recognize that accent but you don't recognize... Him?]

"[Who-]"

[You cough on your words- Vaugardian, Loop! Try again~]

[The familiar stranger looks at you with wonder.]

"Say- say that again, will you?"

"[What, 'who?']"

"No- what was that language?"

[You don't know.]

"[I don't know. Where am I?]"

[The familiar stranger- you're just going to call him the King, it's too similar to be a coincidence. You've never been lucky enough to even consider otherwise. -looks disappointed before lighting up again. His Vaugardian is rough, but understandable.]

"Ah! You're in the Bambouche house of change! Or uhm... The one closest to Bambouche I think... I couldn't really understand them the best."

[The King looks awkward. How could this pathetic whelp end up as the intimidating monster that killed- Blinding- He's speaking]

"They call me castaway, but I prefer Beau, he and him, please. What about you?"

[Oh this is hilarious. The Change god thinks its so blinding funny doesn't it. You're laughing. You're cackling and guffawing and]-

"[Siffrin, they/them, nice to meet you!]"

"Oh, like the savior?"

[What.]

[myloveforhergoeson]

tysm for the tag <3 i've only ever written the one story so my answers may be redundant, but i can talk about specific chapters of my story!

How many works do you have on A03?

just That's All She Wrote! but if we want to count individual side stories, different pov stories, and the au story that puts me closer to 10 i think!

What's your total word count?

tasw is currently 422,680 words! what!!

What fandoms do you write for?

big time rush! a long time ago i tried to write a that 70s show fic that was hyde/female oc but i got to embarrassed and deleted it lmao. she was the original roxanne (roxanne walters!!) and a few of her traits morphed into creating roxy for tasw. i also attempted a young justice wally west (kid flash)/female oc fic (althea prince) as well but only got through a rewrite of the first episode... all abandoned in favor of that's all she wrote which i think is the best choice :)

Top 5 fics by kudos:

you'll never guess... but that's all she wrote... :) but the most liked chapter on wattpad is the first one! and on here the chapter with the most notes is my most recent chapter, Sick, Sick, Sick!

Do you respond to comments?

i do my very best to!! i love love love comments and as we all know i always have soooo much to say. they make my day so i do my best to give that energy back to the commenter <3

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

None so far... but lots of my chapters have angst! i think some of the angstiest i've ever been was probably chapter 19 where roxy was writing her letters, chapter 22 where roxy and camille get into a fight, and chapter 29 when mag comes to roxys door... can you tell i prefer fluff lolll

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

none so far, but i try my best to end most of my chapters on a happy note if situationally appropriate! i really loved the ending to chapter 18 part 2 (first rames kiss!), the christmas chapter (jersey + declan surprise!), and the slightly angsty but mostly happy end to chapter 14 (rames at the dance -> phone call to kendall)

Do you get hate on fics?

not to my knowledge but tbh i don't really think i'd care. i read a lot of fics as i was growing up and i know what i like and what i don't which is why i started writing tasw in the first place. additionally, i know that i can just close out of something or stop reading or whatever and i don't need to let the author know. but i saw a post the other day about people calling original characters cringe and whatnot and that hurt for a fraction of a second before i realized how much work i've put into my story and how it led me to this blog here and all of you and i felt soooo much better

Do you write smut?

i don't but i sure do read a lot of it lolll. i can hardly write kissing without kicking my feet and giggling and getting all silly about it i can't even imagine how i'd be if i tried to write smut - it would certainly affect the quality of my writing bc i'd be far too embarrassed

Craziest crossover?

i haven't written a crossover but i think there's lots of room for btr crossovers! i think i'm going to write a victorious/icarly/btr crossover just for fun as an additional tasw chapter. there's an episode of icarly where they go to a party in LA and meet the victorious kids - i think i'd be fun to throw btr + rox into the mix :)

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

erm. yes kind of. not the whole thing but mostly just original scenes + a few points of roxy's backstory i've written copied and pasted into another fic i found. still trying to figure how to bring it up to the author in a nice way without them thinking im coming for them...

Have you ever had a fic translated?

i haven't, but how neat would that be! it would certainly be a massive undertaking

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

another thing i haven't done, but it might be cool. not really sure how it'd work out if i tried as i'm a pretty sporadic writer. i also don't do so well with deadlines

All-time favorite ship?

RAMES DUH! lolll jkjk. most of the fics i traditionally read are /ocs or /reader (i just put roxanne in the place of "me") but i've been reading so much btr fic lately and honestly any one of those ships have really been doing it for me lol. been pretty big into house and wilson from house md recently too

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i am going to do my very very very best to finish everything i've started in my tasw-sphere because i am so dedicated to this project and i desperately want to see it through. i don't see myself undertaking another project like this though... if you can't tell im very particular about my stories, i love them super super long, and i add in so much extra stuff. but my t70s fic was really fun to write when i was (it was basically bad boy x good girl... god im kicking my feet just thinking about it) and i was super super into my young justice fic for a while (silly boy x serious girl? not quite grumpy x sunshine but somewhere along those lines), but i'm not sure those'll ever be worked on again. we'll see!

What are your writing strengths?

is length a strength? i looooove a long fic. maybe that puts me in the detailed category?

What are your writing weaknesses?

i've never really understood grammar and like... good sentence structre? obviously i know how to write lol i don't believe i'm a terrible writer but i feel like i write more of a flow of consciousness instead of well formated sentences. i drag my sentences out so much. i use "as" like once a sentence and it's been starting to drive me crazy

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

english is the only language i speak fluently + i took four years of spanish in school; i think i'd be comfortable writing basic words and sentences in spanish but anything beyond that i don't think is for me. any other language i'd like to include would also be basic things like greetings, colors, or numbers probably and not much beyond just out of respect for people who do speak that language. i wouldn't want to badly butcher something as important as the language someone speaks!!!!! but on a sidenote i love it when i'm reading a story and i have to look up translations though, feels like a little scavenger hunt hehe

First fandom you ever wrote in?

technically t70s but i never published. i'd consider this btr still

Favorite fic you've written?

you'll never guess...

EEE THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN!! i'm tagging anyone who wants to add on; i'd love to hear what you have to say!! <33

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Found this browsing Tumblr. Nobody tagged me, but I wanted to do this anyway.

How many works do you have on A03? 15 (and more to come)

What's your total word count? 1,235,276

What fandoms do you write for? Big Time Rush, CSI: Crime Scene Investigation, Criminal Case, Harry Potter, Loonatics Unleashed, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2012 series), Thunderbirds (1965 series), and Transformers: Prime

Top 5 fics by kudos: The Thunderbird and the Doctor (96), The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Grimsborough (94), Save You (74), In the Darkness (72), Take a Shot in the Dark (61) - this is at the time of answering this

Do you respond to comments? I respond to comments on The Thunderbird and the Doctor only. (Because I started it when I only had limited fics and wanted to keep going.) Beyond that, I only reply if someone has a question.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? So far, my completed fics have happy endings, but the angstiest ending will be in The Adventures of Avery Samuels: Welcome to Grimsborough.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Probably The Thunderbird and the Doctor. I gave my couple a happily ever after.

Do you get hate on fics? Not since I've been on AO3.

Do you write smut? Oh God yes

Craziest crossover? Haven't written a crossover

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Oh my God, yes!

Have you ever had a fic translated? No, but it'd be cool if someone wanted to.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Way back when and it never worked out.

All-time favorite ship? Do shipping canon characters with my OCs count?

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I feel like I'll finish all my WIPs, but Avery Samuels is going to be my longest story, so it feels daunting.

What are your writing strengths? Apparently, I'm good at cliffhangers.

What are your writing weaknesses? A lot (my confidence is nonexistent)

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't mind it as long as a translation's easily accessible. Never written with another language, but I won't say no to the challenge.

First fandom you ever wrote in? Loonatics Unleashed

Favorite fic you've written? No! Don't make me pick! It's like picking a favourite child!

I nominate @myloveforhergoeson @kristylime @ligercat and anyone else who wants to do it!

[orangetintedglasses]

Minor achievement or not, it was impressive to witness firsthand— as was the flair of life or levity that the small triumph brought back to the undertaker. The smirk was good to see; it was probably the least dour she'd seen him in the months leading up to this, and it made hope spring up in her chest.

"It really has… let's hope for good news, then, shall we?"

Which… was probably a bit of a long shot, given their circumstances, but optimism never hurt in small doses… it'd be fine to have for the short walk back to the wing of the ship that housed their Plants, at very least!

And what they would come back to was… quite the sight to behold.

All of the Dependents were awake and active. Every single one of them— there wasn't a single bulb amongst the dozens of dozens of glass bubble rows as the entities within gathered at the edges of their tanks. All of them seemed to be trying to look in the same direction, towards a more center-focused point of the room… right around where the Plant that Wolfwood had spoken to specifically was. That one was the focal point: floating at the very front of her tank and singing with her eyes closed and her mouth wide open, her arms spread out at her sides… she looked serene. Angelic. And all of the others were looking at her…

Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones. The commotion had drawn quite a crowd of onlookers— engineers, security, crew and civilians… anyone and everyone who had caught wind of the alert must've wandered down to see; a fact that startled Luida greatly as they entered.

It… was good that the Plants might've wanted to talk, but Wolfwood— Wolfwood shouldn't have to do it in front of a crowd this large—

Someone else within the crowd had a similar thought. Brad, who turned and saw the two of them come in, stopped what he was doing mid-conversation with another member of the crew— and after a moment of analysis, he quickly moved to make a scene, raising his voice and arms both above the din of the gathering crowd.

"Alright, alright, everyone's curiosity been sated? Good! Now get out—" someone tried to protest (likely the Plant engineers themselves) but the man wouldn't give them much thought, jerking his head in their direction with a disinterested hiss, "yeah, even you, eggheads— everyone needs to clear out and give the girls some room to breathe. We can't assess what's going on until they all calm down and no one here is helping by standing around and gawking at 'em, now move—!"

The possibilities of moments that Vash's 'gate' could open seem to stretch on for long list upon long list—could it open during happier emotional moments? Wolfwood temporarily loses himself to his thoughts, missing the envy tinting Luida's words. He doesn't miss the final sentence though; before he's able to warn the doctor that he is not letting anyone put Vash through rigorous testing or—God forbid—procedures, the tablet to the side begins to flash.

"I just talked to them, what else could they want?" Wolfwood grumbles, slightly curious. Perhaps now that the Plants are aware of something being wrong, they're able to help...

He stands up eagerly, tossing the cup into the trash. It nearly misses, hitting the rim of the can and circling it once before falling in. Wolfwood smirks at the minor achievement, then turns to follow Luida, flipping open his box of toothpicks and tossing one between his teeth as he passes through the entrance to the lounge.

"Pretty eventful two hours, eh?"

[forgivenpunishment]

Baring his fangs and stiffening his posture as a warning to back off—an old and practiced reaction to people approaching him—Wolfwood plans on shutting up about Vash, telling them nothing. This situation pisses him off, he's uncomfortable, and Luida is talking to him like he's some kind of child who needs to be comforted. Well, he's not a kid, and more importantly—he's not her kid. She's treating him like some kind of equal to Vash, and he hates it.

Before he can bark at Luida to mind her business, Brad makes a bold entrance and catches his attention. His eyes snap to him immediately—now he's caged and in a corner with people who should be considered enemies at this point.

That's... a little rash, isn't it? They're just trying to care.

Just like Vash, they're so naive.

"Keep your damn hands off of my bike, I'll do it myself—" The undertaker growls, talking over Brad in some wasted attempt to take control of the conversation again. "And stop talkin' to me like I'm... him. I'm not. You don't know me, and now you don't have any reason to get to know me. Vash doesn't want anything to do with me, so you can let me off of this deathtrap now and we can both walk away."

He's being irrational.

He doesn't care.

Then Luida steps in with her calm voice and it hits him how much of an asshole he's being to people who just care about Vash. People who want to find Vash just as much as he does, probably. People who Vash would be happier to see—once they find him, Wolfwood will just leave before the runaway has to so much as spare a glance at him.

Wolfwood takes a breath and politely takes the glass of water and sips from it. Shutting his eyes, he lets the anger cool off from his expression before opening them again.

"About a month ago," Wolfwood starts, clearing his throat, "He left in the middle of the night after a fight went south. I didn't even wake up."

Hopefully the vague description of the events that had unfolded makes them think it was a mutual decision—or better, that it was his fault. It'd be easier to admit than the real reason.

Alarm was written clear as day in Luida's expression as Wolfwood made to stand, only to crumple back down almost instantly; the urge to give him a gentle scolding rising quickly in her throat. What had she just said about not straining himself? Honestly, these boys…

But then, the undertaker muttered something about Vash… then made it clear, a little more loudly, that their initial read on the situation— that the two of them hadn't been able to outrun the storm, and had ended up separated; that was why Vash's things hadn't been on Wolfwood's bike —hadn't been what actually happened. No, something else had happened… and now, Wolfwood was looking for Vash, too, despite… well…

She stepped a little closer, still offering him the water as she slowly settled into a crouch beside him. "Separate ways? What do you—"

"Eh, you ain't goin' anywhere until your junk heap's cleaned out anyway." came another, booming voice from the door as it slid open with that swift, mechanical whoosh!-ing noise that all of those fancy space-tech doors did. Brad stepped in already wearing a frown, and immediately crossed his arms, giving the undertaker a scrutinizing sort of look for already being up.

"My guys are doing their best to do it gentle, and without takin' her apart, but that'll take a while. We haven't found Vash yet, either, so it's not like we're going anywhere anytime soon. You might as well settle in—" he said, glancing idly to the corner of the room, where his eyes landed right on the Punisher. A muscle fluttered in his brow as the irritation from hours ago refreshed itself, and the man growled, "besides, do you have any idea how many of us it took to lift that goddamned thing and get it in here? I had half a mind to leave it outside— so at least stay long enough to get cleaned up, you look like a damn dust ball and sound like—"

"Brad…" Luida hissed. It was a low and hushed tone that he recognized as a warning to knock it off and read the room. Brad just blinked; clearly he'd missed some pretty important context in the few minutes it took him to get over here— the mood did seem a bit… dour, now that he was actually taking it in. He sniffed, and scratched the back of his head.

"... sorry." he said, a little softer. "What I meant to say was… just… don't run out on us yet. You need to take it easy."

"What do you mean, things didn't work out?" Luida asked, now that Brad wasn't dominating the conversation, and the man blinked again, his mouth agape. What?! What the hell did he miss, it didn't take him THAT long to get here—!!