#despite being a favored color combination

[theveryworstthing]

time to learn a little bit about the Yells. i've been writing a few lore posts for a while and instead of continuing to let they grow and fretting over them, i think i'm just going to throw a few out there and try to finish up the rest this week.

The Yells

Despite their imposing size, strange behaviors, and mysterious keepers, the Signallusc (or The Yells as most rabbits call them) are considered just another part of the island landscape. These towering faux trees serve as the island version of radio towers, and make all radio communication above and below ground possible.

Though the 2 largest of the naturally formed Yells are still upright and active (and heavily protected so that their natural life cycle can be properly studied), these days rabbits prefer to cultivate the towers so that they don’t grow in problematic areas or do…other things.

Wild or free growth Yells make their homes in dead rotting wood as natural decomposers, and many live out their lives as simple slime molds (or as simple as any slime mold can be). Certain conditions must be met to trigger the drastic color change and vertical growth that make them viable for communication use, and so wild Yells are usually found growing in small clusters in or around the resources they need to sustain their new forms. Dead trees or stumps with roots still in the ground are prime hosts for these slime molds and they’re actually seen as beneficial since they stabilize potentially dangerous dead trees and kill diseases or especially destructive insects that might harm surrounding living trees. Once inside these dead trees the slime mold eats them from the inside out, taking the branches first, and then devouring the mass from the top down.

Compared to other slime molds they can handle direct sunlight quite well, but wild yells still tend to favor hosts in shady areas and from the way these trees are devoured they seem to try and keep some sort of shell around them for as long as possible. This wooden shell not only serves as food, but also gives the growing Yell a moist, dark, home until its outer membrane is thick and strong enough to handle being constantly exposed. When wild Yells “die”, it’s usually because they’ve run out of host tree long ago, and have stiffened into a rigid structure that eventually cracks (usually due to being struck by lightning) and crumbles, releasing clouds of spores. The remains of a Yell dissolve in the first rain after they fall and tend to leave the area around the strange lotus pod-ish pit in the ground where “roots” used to be spotless, but smelling very metallic with a hint of foulness. Almost like not so fresh blood.

Through the observations recorded by island botanists and the specific botanical sect known as the Antenna, rabbits (and hares, as they were the first to investigate and made great strides in understanding the process before they left the island en masse) have learned exactly what triggers Yell vertical growth and have used this knowledge to cultivate Yells quite successfully. A combination of owl feathers, metal ore (mainly bog iron), charcoal sticks and or ash (best if created by lightning strike, wood preferred but animal remains like burned out hawks are perfectly acceptable), and a little starter wood are fed to the slime mold, and after it’s broken everything down it begins its transformation. It is then introduced to a host plant sprout, a type of fast growing, woody, creeping vine in the Grasp family bred specifically for this purpose (wild cultivars work fine but they’re half as hardy and the bond has a greater chance of triggering very upsetting mutations. These are different from the upsetting mutations, which are fine and harmless). From then on the slime mold seems to guide the host plant’s growth, forming a shell from the vines that is constantly growing and shedding. This serves as both a home and an ample food source.

The botany world is torn on whether this forms a mutualistic symbiotic relationship or whether it’s straight up parasitism. And yes, plant nerd blood has been spilled over this argument. Not a ton of blood, it’s not like this is the great lichen wars, but still.

The Antenna

All yell care-taking is done by the Antenna sect. This is a mysterious group of witchy botanists and engineers who, like the previously referred to upsetting mutations, are harmless despite their entire vibe. Well. Harmless enough for botanists anyway.

Not a lot is known about them by the general public but they keep things working smoothly and show up quickly when something isn’t.

Members of this sect haven’t had a set “look” or uniform for about a generation and a half due to the ending of a lot of the the founding member’s bloodlines, but each Yell site has it’s own culture that attracts certain kinds of people. Despite their differences, there are a few things that make Antennae easier to pick out of a crowd if you know what to look for. The skin of their inner ears develop thin branching markings or wave-like ripples depending on how they interact with Yells. Some have obvious hare ancestry and sport roughly branching horns that grow quite long and shed every year (these shed horns are fed to the Yells). Newer members wear a lot of lightweight ear jewelry to help pick up important signals and behavioral quirks from the Yells, but the longer they stay in the Antenna the less tolerant they are of this. Things get…loud. Behind their eyes. Inside their teeth. Seasoned members usually can’t stand wearing any metal jewelry at all. The head botanist of one of the most remote Yells wears ear plugs almost 24/7 because of left behind shrapnel from an accident in his youth.

He is deaf.

He says he’s not really blocking anything out, just sorting it properly.

No one really knows what he means. It’s fine.

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Of A Feather

M!Harpy x F!Human

This was an entry into a little contest. I went with a harpy plague doctor as my character. Some people liked it and that was enough for me.

When the village head informed me that he could not pay me in gold or goods, I was sympathetic. A bad harvest combined with a harsh winter had left them with little to spare. What little resources they had were used up to try and keep the remaining people healthy, at my behest. 

While I had no intention of exploiting him, there was still the matter of payment.  After all, services had been performed, supplies used, risks taken, and time spent.

If he couldn’t pay me with such things, what was left? 

Favors and flesh. 

I was taken to the man’s home, where a small gathering of people awaited me. They had obviously picked from the best looking and available people in the village. Hair combed and styled, attire perfectly coordinated to match skin and eye color, and subtle perfumes that did little to mask the stench of death that still clung to the doors. 

Even in the dim light of the candles, I could tell they were dazzling. 

The life of a plague doctor was a lonely one. Constantly traveling from town to town, potential suitors being scared off by the rumors that disease still clung to me, and many that I met died within the week. An omen of Death, bringer of the Reaper, harvester of Life. Titles that did not grant me land or wealth. 

The lot in front of me showed a fear I was all too familiar with. Some cast their eyes downward, but it did little to hide it. A few dared to glare or even scowl when they thought I wasn’t looking.  

I was about to depart, not wanting to further upset those still grieving, when the door opened. 

A chill from the autumn night stirred the curtains and made the candles flicker. As shadows danced across the walls, I could hear a few muffled whimpers and whispers. 

Labored breathing followed. 

The woman at the doorway was still wearing the gowns of mourning, her hair tucked away under a scarf. Despite this, her eyes weren’t red and puffy. 

In fact, she looked almost… Relieved to see me. She clutched a lantern, but I could see it shaking in her hand. For an instant, I feared she would drop it. 

When I took a step toward her, there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She stared at my gloved hand, the fingers slightly limp. 

As her lips parted, I expected a biting remark or curse thrown my way. 

Instead, she tightened her grip on the lantern and set her jaw. 

Standing up straight, she drew herself to her full height. The lantern shook in her grasp, the flame dancing and moving the shadows on the wall. While far from an intimidating stature, the boldness that rolled off her gave me pause. 

Determination now gleamed in her gaze, the lamplight making it look almost like a hunter’s glint. 

Tension rose in the room. Eyes flicked back and forth. The crowd cleared a path as she walked up to me, no hesitation in her step. 

There was no need to ask who I was. The mask and robes left little doubt. 

Without a word, she curtsied to me. She looked back at the villagers, as if daring them to try and stop her. No one said a thing. In fact, everyone seemed to be relieved at her presence. There was a glimmer of hope. 

No one would have to choose a sacrifice to give to the boogeyman. 

We left the home, the door slamming behind us. 

I led the way, and she followed me to the outskirts. Not one person stopped to thank her or bid farewell. It suddenly made sense to me. They had wanted to be rid of her, and she of them. A few faces in windows twisted and contorted with disgust. Never with sorrow. 

Like me, she was an outsider.

Once we reached the border, where the dirt road gave way to the sprawling beyond, I saw her hesitate. She stared over her shoulder, and for a moment I thought she would weep. 

Clumsily, I reached into one of the pouches on my belt and produced a handkerchief. She stared at the square of fabric, and then began to laugh. Tears still welled, but I felt better knowing they weren’t from sorrow. 

I found myself entranced with the emotion and expression. She quieted too soon, and we were once more on our way. 

We walked in silence, and I was beginning to work out the terms of a contract and the conditions of my new companion’s stay. 

She continued to look out of the corner of her eye at me, smirking when our gazes met. I didn’t pry into the details of her life, nor did she mine. Perhaps it would come in time, when she became accustomed to her new position. 

When we arrived at my home, I allowed her inside and set up her accommodations. She explored the rooms and seemed satisfied. Rather than shrink away or cry out at the sight of my more macabre collections, she seemed intrigued. 

It was far from luxurious, but she would be comfortable until we found a more long term solution. I also supplied her with books so we could begin her training proper. She took them, but seemed confused, raising a quizzical brow. 

“We will start your studies tomorrow. By the end of the week, you should know what to expect moving forward.” 

I bid her goodnight then went to my own room to draw up the contract of her stay. 

An assistant would help relieve the burden of a few jobs, but I couldn’t afford to keep one for very long. My focus was purely on this new endeavor that I never removed my clothing to prepare for slumber. 

I was perched at my desk, having scribbled out dozens of lines on my papers when I heard the bedroom door open. Living alone, I had never gotten into the habit of locking it. 

She came into the room, wearing only her shift. It was threadbare, leaving little to the imagination. Her eyes flicked around the room, perplexed at my lack of a bed. The confusion didn’t last long and she approached the desk, standing behind the chair. 

While both of us were about the same height standing, she nearly towered over me. 

I turned to face her, and she leaned forward, putting her hands on the desk behind me. The bare flesh of her arms barely brushed against my robes. Even through the thick material I could feel their warmth. Breath fogged up the lenses of my mask, obscuring my vision. 

It was then I realized while I had expected a repayment in the form of a favor, she had chosen flesh. Perhaps she assumed that doing so would end her stay with me sooner and she could flee back to her village, or wherever she decided, after. 

Slowly, I lifted up my glove and pressed the back of it to her lips as I waited for the fog on my mask to dissipate. 

Her eyes became lidded as I felt the pressure of her lips against the leather. With an intentionally gradual pace, she brought them further down, where the glove went under my sleeve. 

She seemed perplexed at the material going so far up, but I could still feel her warm breath rolling down my arm. I was statue still as it flowed to my chest and heart. 

Blood sang in my veins as desire long buried began to claw its way from the grave. 

I retracted my hand from her. Her fingers twitched, curling on empty air. Slowly, she stepped away, eyes averting apologetically. Lips moved, tongue flitting nervously as she prepared to speak. 

Instead, I put my gloves on either side of my mask. 

Without waiting for a request for assistance, she slipped it off. 

I expected her to recoil in horror, or to flinch. But she only stared, eyes hungrily taking in the details of my face. While I was certainly far from a beauty, she clearly expected something more grotesque or marred. Her gaze seemed to focus on my hair, the long plumes that caught the light in a strange way, the way it frayed out.  

I stood up, expecting her to take a step back. Instead, she was resolute, not moving from her spot in front of me. 

My gloves found her hand. I could feel it shaking. She laced her fingers with mine, breath still tickling my lips. 

Gingerly, she set the mask down with her free hand. Dexterous fingers worked open my robes, running softly over the pebbled skin. Inhaling sharply, I flinched away reflexively as the shed material fell to the floor, leaving me in only my breeches and boots. 

While I possessed the same flesh as her on my head and torso, black feathers began to dot and eventually cover my arms, giving way to wings stuffed inside gloves. They too fell to the floor, no longer being held in place by sleeves.

I could see her eyes going lower, wondering what lay beyond the clothing. Ironically, the one part of my outer clothing that resembled a bird masked my human features. 

Then, she finally hesitated. Blinking, she traced over my shoulders and ran fingers down my bicep, stopping where flesh ended. The slightest edge of her nails made my feathers ruffle. A few formed a black ring around my boots. 

I could see the worry in her eyes. An unspoken question. 

What are you?

I made no move to pull her closer. Nor did I push her away. Neither of us spoke, not wanting to frighten the other. 

When she stepped back, I could feel a pang in my heart. The small space now between us cut through me like an icy blade. 

She grabbed her shift’s hem. Pulling it over her head, she let it join my feather’s on the floor. Despite all the heat coming from her touch, nipples were erect, skin covered in gooseflesh. I found myself closing the gap, letting our bodies share the warmth between them.  

Soft lips pressed against mine, arms encircling my waist. Legs wrapped around, bare flesh of thighs and calves rubbing against breeches and boots. My touch feather light, I followed every curve and crevice of her skin, unable to fully embrace and grasp her like she did to me. 

As I traveled downward, I could feel her breath catch against my neck, fingers digging into my back. I lacked the dexterity she did, but I could feel the trickling folds between her legs. Since I didn’t possess fingers, I moved my human mouth down and parted her thighs. 

The clothing we’d shed formed a slight cushion as she sat, hands tangled in my hair. I could feel her fingers exploring as my tongue plunged in and out of her. Each quiver and shake brushed against my feathers, the sensation only seeming to add to her enjoyment. 

Ankles locked between my shoulders, pulling me more into her. I increased my efforts, hooking her legs in the crook of my elbow. The gasps and moans became cries and screams of ecstasy, begging for more. 

The fingers in my hair formed a fist. My lips pressed to hers, groans and growls escaping me in a carnal language we both knew all too well, my tongue exploring as hers called out for more. 

When she finally loosened her grip, I shifted. Breeches brushed against her soaking folds, betraying the hardness within. Shaking legs spread wider. In the moonlight, I could see her shimmering wetness. Shallow breaths betrayed her ache. The need to be filled.

With some difficulty, I molted the last bit of my clothing. My boots clomped noisily on the floor. My breeches had barely slipped down my thighs when she managed to get up, her whole body shaking with the effort.

Once more, she leaned over, hands resting on the ground behind me. Straddling me, she lowered herself down. 

The warm and wet gripped me tightly, and I could see her spread across the girth, before vanishing behind my feathers. She tossed back her head at that, breath catching as she took a moment to recover, before starting again. I met her with each movement, once more devolving into the ancient language. 

However, she seemed to have had enough of it, and her lips covered mine. Her tongue explored, no doubt tasting herself. This only seemed to invigorate her further, moans and whimpers rumbling through the both of us. Even muffled, the sounds rattled me to my core. 

I wrapped my wings around her, not wanting a feather’s width of space between us. I wanted this to last. But I was dancing so close to the edge already. 

My taloned feet traced over her calves. The sharp tips must have lightly scratched her, because she stared at me, finally parting our kiss. Trembling legs gave out then, and she collapsed on top of me, labored breaths telling me she was at the brink herself. 

Despite the hesitation, she gave me a nod to continue. 

They gripped her ankles tightly, locking her in place. Taking her under my wings, I let her rest against me as I rolled my hips. Each thrust was punctuated with a sigh or a moan. The slow pace drew out each motion. 

Soon, I could feel her trying to wriggle down onto me, begging me to fill her faster. A few times I gave in, remaining inside her, only to draw back out again. She would bite her lips, scratching at the floor. The request was loud, despite a word not being spoken. 

Each breath and sigh further fanned the heat inside me. My motions were rough and out of practice, but she craved it all the same. 

Finally, I hilted and held her fast, feeling the flame of passion sputter out. She twitched around me, soft sighs telling me she could feel each drop inside her. It spilled out onto my stomach and hips, my grip finally loosening. 

We stayed entangled, clothes and feathers scattered around us. I managed to get my robes and drape them over her. The shivering eventually ceased, and she laid against my chest, hand resting on my shoulder. Slowly, her eyes closed and I could feel the soft breathing of slumber. 

The lenses of my mask gleamed in the candlelight, watching over the two of us.  

[purplealmonds]

Observations about Mononoke Karakasa characters & relationships based on costuming & color palettes

Let's guess who these girls' parents are and see where this rabbit hole takes us!

Analysis below the cut! This isn't spoilers as much as it is just going over publicly available information with a fine tooth comb but proceed with caution. Buckle in, this is gonna be a long one!

Based on the color palette of their outfits, these two girls featured in the second trailer at the 0:17 timestamp are the twin daughters of Hokuto Mizorogi (溝呂木北斗) as indicated on his bio on the official website.

Given Mizorogi's status as priest of the "Omizu-sama" faith, it's entirely possibly he's given special privileges within the ooku to father a child.

According to Japanese geisha culture, their half-painted lips indicate that they are children. They partially shaved their heads is reminiscent of a nun's makes sense given their religious parentage. Two context clues combined, I believe they are priestesses-in-training - a position which is higher than even that of the most favored concubines.

Supporting this theory, these twins have a very high position of power in the Ooku despite their youth, as seen by them being at the front of the procession featured in the teaser trailer at the 0:07 timestamp. They also have uniquely colored umbrellas:

As an aside – given how most of the spiral-masked women are visually identical, uniquely colored outfits are a visual shorthand for status (or narrative significance) in the ooku.

And I believe they are the gatekeepers for the, uhhhh, how do I put this delicately? The shogun's baby-making room? Take this with a grain of salt though; I could only see a sliver of the room they were opening in the first screenshot. The colors seem fairly similar though!

But also consider: this babymaking room has a lot of eye motifs, which is reflected in the pit seen in the ceremonial area where I presume Mizorogi presumably performs his religious services:

The third trailer introduces the theme of discarding essential parts of yourself. There is a shot of the comb falling into a pool of water in an unknown location:

Paired with the visual of the comb lying amongst discarded valuables in the water in the second trailer, I'm going to hazard a guess this is a common "ritual" of sorts:

I'm willing to bet Mizorogi enforces this "identity discarding" ceremony on behalf of the shogun. It says in his character bio he's a strong believer of "Omizu-sama". Did he discard his role as a father to step into the role as a the priest?

Their mother may be Kitagawa (北川), a high ranking maid within the Ooku.

The twins' hair and eye colors look similar enough, but there's more meat to this theory. Kitagawa seems to be a narratively important character based on how heavily she's featured in the trailers in increasingly angsty/mysterious ways:

Perhaps Kitagawa "gave away" her motherhood to the waters, which has religious baptism connotations. This hypothetical scenario feels rife with mononoke-formation potential.

Furthermore, from costume design standpoint, she also shares the blue and teal colors featured in Mizorogi's outfit.

As for her purple accents, I believe it is a color reserved for the higher-ranking women of the ooku.

I have a theory that the darker a color is, the higher the status is. Consider:

Asa (Left), who is a new maid but has a lot of potential for upwards mobility.

Tokita Fuki (時田フキ) (Center)), a lowly commoner who caught the attention of the shogun. Because she's a commoner, the purple is faded despite her high status, perhaps representing that it will disappear once she loses the shogun's favor. But because the rose pattern is almost a one-to-one match to that of Mizorogi's, perhaps she is strongly favored by this man as well.

Awashima (Right), the subordinate of Utayama, who is falling out of favor as Asa rises in prominence. There are still pops of dark purple, but a washed out lavendar permeates her palette.

Both Tokita and Awashima also have highly saturated yellow/yellow-greens, which could represent potential danger of their power disappearing due to outside influences.

As for the deeper purple...

Otomo Botan (大友ボタン) (Right) - a lady in waiting and daughter of a high-ranking senior councilor. Note that she also has pale purple in her palette because her high status was not earned. Because she borrows power from influences outside of the ooku, the black accents are represent that she has more power than even Utayama, the most powerful woman within the ooku.

Utayama (歌山) (Left) - the woman with the highest position of the Ooku,  "Odoshiyoroshi". She is also prominently garbed in red and white, which is a color seen in the shogun and a little bit of Mizorogi's outfit:

Lighter shades of red (i.e. pink) also seem to indicate men of lower status that still have some position of power, like these guards:

Note that Kame (カメ) (Left) and Mugiya (麦谷) (Right) also possess these "masculine" colors which may indicate that they have more forceful personalities compared to other women within the ooku:

Their respective outfits also have analogous shades close to the blues prominent in Mizorogi's outfit. Assuming blue has religious connotations (akin to Virgin Mary), perhaps they are also strongly faithful to whoever this "Omizu-sama" entity is.

Meanwhile, Asa also wears pink, but does not feature any blue in her outfit. I think may represent her lack of faith. She does seem like a more levelheaded individual not easily swept away by more dazzling aspects of mysticism.

This is the look of a woman who not only has a braincell or two, but has it on her person at all times.

Now let's look at our main protagonists!

Kusu features red and purple color accents in his outfit, which makese sense for his gender ambiguous presentation. You could say that the other colors featured in his outfit represent how the influences he collects by interacting with humans. Black is also featured heavily as the canvas for these colors. As mentioned earlier, this represents influences outside of the ooku.

In contrast, Shingi while sports both the masculine red/white and feminine purple colors of power, the latter definitely eclipses the former which matches his masculine presentation. His outfit also has black, but because his influence in the world comes in bursts during exorcisms, it is featured less prominently than Kusu. His disheveled look may represent his discarding of these superficial societal norms. His power - symbolized by red - need not be worn. It is already tattooed onto his skin - literally.

The only other characters that have red tattooed onto their skin are the twins from the beginning of this post. Come to think of it, their partially shaved look may also be a nod to the shogun's power - indicating that their very existence is divinely approved by him. So we come full circle!

So, yeah! Although these twins don't have an official bio, there's a lot to learn about them and others from extrapolation and inference alone!

In summary:

Red/White = Masculine/Divine power

Blue = Religious power

Purple = feminine power

Yellow = danger of power loss

Light colors = weak influence

Dark colors = stronger influence

Thank you for coming with me on this long diatribe!

[jaw-writes]

When You...

When you commit genocide, the loudest screams are forced out of the innocent. Hundreds, thousands, ring out at pitches so high that dogs' ears burst. An immeasurable amount of pain is created, and no one is spared, from infants to elders. When you want a group off the face of the earth no exceptions are made.

Yet, despite how painfully deafening it is, most of the world doesn't hear it. Some never know about it and if they do, they take a moment to feel sorrow and proceed to put in earplugs. I can’t say I always blame them, I wish I could do the same, but I can’t, because I am a descendant of those who are being slaughtered. My parents, their parents, and their parents before have all existed under oppression. My blood carries generations from a dying people and culture. A group that is suffering in refugee camps as I stand here before you today. 

There is mourning built into my DNA. My bone marrow is a mix of lost souls. My face a combination of features that have been torn apart. The brown skin that binds me, a color regimes have tried to bleach. My hair, eyes, and skin, all shades that people want to be washed away in favor of a light canvas. Memories of mass murder have remained fresh in my mind. Stretching and sculpting my perception with trauma, to the point I can’t imagine having the privilege of living without it. I only exist as I am today because others like me weren't allowed to. 

Some can try to argue that my people deserved it. That far too many of us are dirty and in need of washing. This cleansing has multiple meanings. To wash away our heritage, and force our traditions and beliefs to die with us. To wash away our claim to land, leave us without homes so the majority gains more. To wash away our blood, slaughter us all, and burn the remains. Then, lastly, and this is the most important piece of the demented puzzle, to wash away our history. If no one remembers what the world lost, no one can grieve or hold you accountable.

Now, with how complex and cruel that process is, you have to wonder, what drives a single person to think that it’s okay? Let alone entire societies. Well, every maniac has a different tail they spin to themselves, and the masses, but it all ties back to one thing. Superiority. The idea is that whatever group you are attacking is less deserving of what you’re fighting them over, even if that is something as inherent as the right to live. You are in the right in your views, there's is backward. They are villains who seek to harm those who do nothing wrong, you are the hero who does what is right. They are criminal, they are rotten, they are filthy. You are lawful, you are pure, you are clean. So, it’s only your divine right to cleanse.

When you experience genocide, you and your loved ones scream so loud that they rip their vocal cords. Hundreds, thousands, of people you knew in your everyday life are abused and taken away like they are nothing more than weeds on a lawn. A pain you can’t put into words is created, and no one is safe, from your parent to your child. When you are part of a group being erased from the world and the minds in it, you are not an exception.

[fantasygerard2000]

My Issues With Starboy and Fandom Nostalgia Blindness

DISCLAIMER: This isn't an attack on fan artists who like Starboy. This is a critique of the misconception and I don't condone bullying of any sorts towards people who make and consume content they like.

As I have written in my previous posts about Wish, I am just generally not a huge fan of the Starboy. Well, specifically the fandom centered around him and what they represent.

Context for those who don't know, Star was originally going to be a shapeshifter with a humanoid base form, basically a mix of Peter Pan and the Genie in terms of personality. The misconception that he and Asha were originally going to be a couple was the result of people misreading a line from the art book about how Star and Asha are "soullmates".

As you can read above, the book says "Once Star became a mime character" meaning they meant the current plushie Star, and that they and Asha are connected.

But what about the love song? Well, someone already made a post dissecting the topic. At All Costs was always intended to be written about the wishes but the song writer wanted to make a love song but there wasn't needed for the movie so it sounded like one out of context. Which isn't a bad thing as Disney has been subverting the True Love trope that love does not come from a romantic partner but also from friends and family as seen in films like Frozen and Maleficent, hence why the song sounds like both a lullaby and a romantic duet.

However, even after this was disproven, some fans still insisted they were "robbed" of this non existent romance. Even with the fact that in this early draft of the film, Star was considered to be a younger version of Sabino who passed. Yet, fans still wanted their romance and decided to make fan content based on the unused draft. Well, more accurately the draft they imagined in their heads.

Honestly, I have never read a single one of these rewrites of the film and I am in no position to judge content I have never seen. I do encourage people to make their own version of Wish based on this concept wether it's romantic or not. However, I don't condone the behavior that some of these Starboy fans have.

Even though the art book says the early draft Star was a combination of Genie AND Peter Pan, fans opted to picked just Peter Pan. And that's also factor in the Star was a shapeshifter like Genie and Maui yet most of the general fan art I seen is just Star as a human very little if not rare have him drawn as an animal or as the abstract more alien designs the creators considered for Star after they scrapped the human shapeshifter draft.

Speaking of designs, a common criticism I and others have is that most fan designs for Starboy is just a blonde Jack Frost. Heck, fan edits of the film straight up use Jack as a stand in for Starboy but with his colored yellow.

There were attempts to alter the Jack Frost inspired design to be close to the concept art but the effort is just the equivalent of a Deviantart base being recolored in MSpaint.

The funny thing is that there's already a canonical design for human Star in the artbook.

Even though there's several considered designs for him, the fact that there's plenty of official concept art with this facial structure suggests this is the closest to a canon human Star we got.

And if you notice, this human Star doesn't look as attractive to the Jack Frost inspired ones. It's pretty telling they favored the fan made pretty boy one over the closest canonical one with thicker eyebrows, freckles, large nose, darker shade of skin, facial hair and slight tooth gap.

Not only that, in an animatic of a scene in the early draft, Star was a more comedic character.

And that just make notice how very rare it is for a romance to have one of the partners be conventionally looking and also be the comedic character.

Despite that this fandom makes content about Asha and Star's romance, it doesn't feel like about the both of them. This is less of Starsha and just Starboy.

Not helped is that Asha is already mischaracterized as selfish my media illiterates who didn't payed attention to the movie. So, seeing Asha, a character who is treated like the villain in her own story being shipped by a version of a character who mostly designed as light skin by a fandom who clearly hasn't leg go of their old fictional crush where she's suddenly cared for by audiences comes of as a little iffy, since Asha's is a bi-racial black girl, and that the people who treated her as a villain are in support of the film's actual villain, who is light skinned.

Asha is pretty much like Tiana in a way, being somewhat a discarded character but is only liked by her status of not being single, with Tiana's in film and Asha's in fanon.

Coming back to the plagiarizing Star design , this may come of weird and out of no where, but I partly think Jack Frost is responsible for this mess. Now, Jack Frost is a hot piece of snow, I agree. He was pretty much Tumblr's biggest dream boy of the period of his film's release to the point he is being shipped with characters outside of his film.

Remember the time where people make crossovers of him with Rapunzel, Hiccup and Merida? That was the hit fandom back in the day and like with all fandoms, shipping fights were present and take a guests who gets the most paired with.

This crossover shipping extends over to the Frozen fandom where Jelsa was created. I mean, it was obvious, lonely ice girl and lonely ice boy. The fact remains is that people still have the hots for Jack that they use him as a stand in for a character in a romance that doesn't exist.

And that's what the vibes I'm getting. People just want a romance for the sake of it but don't consider how it would affect the movie and its themes.

I mean, it would be nice if Asha gets a romantic partner but she has bigger priorities. Disney romances have been infamously bad, especially with the older films where the princes are more like plot devices than actual characters. They got better over time with Naveen and Eugene, but that's mainly due to the fact that they're obligated to because they're in a Disney fairytale movie made in the 2010's, of course they should fall in love. With their own princesses, not with each other. You're welcome for that visual.

If Wish had a romance, it would clutter an already cluttered film. Despite that most of Wish's ACTUAL criticism dwells on how half baked it is, a romance isn't going to fix it. It's like adding an extra ingredient to an otherwise fine but half baked cake, that's not gonna make it fully bake.

And this brings us to the fandom's nonexistent issue that they were "robbed". I don't like the usages of "rob" this way because they weren't robbed of anything. Robbed is when someone takes something away from you. Human Star is not theirs but Starboy and his romances with Asha is because they created it after misreading a line about soulmates in the art book and assumed they were romantic partners.

Not helped is that Wish is accused of being made with A.I. and then we have this person crying over a slideshow of A.I. generated images of her stolen romance.

I wrote in my previous posts about Tastes and Preferences and briefly brought up Wish as an example and I intend to expand it right here. The people who want Asha and Star as a couple to be canon is not because of they think it would have improved the film, but more so for their own tastes.

I literally saw a posts from someone saying the potentials if Asha and Starboy being canon would mean them appearing in the Disney parks. Now, that just shows where their priorities lie. This eerily reminds me of the time Tumblr users fangirled over a Peter Pan face performer at the parks where it got so heated that he was allegedly fired.

And remember how human Star was inspired after Genie and Peter yet fans mostly prioritize on the Peter inspiration? This pretty much confirms what I get off of them, they're still crushing on Jack Frost and Peter Pan got mad when a character they perceived to be just like them was scrapped. If human Star was kept, imagine the poor actor being looked after by fangirls. If Reylo fans got angry when Daisy Ridley didn't sat next to Adam Driver during that one time, imagine when some derange fans find out that the performers for Star and Asha weren't actually dating.

Heck, this general unhealthy behavior from shippers is even more oddly similar to Zutara fans.

I get the appeal that fanon ships are more immersive than the canon ones, but this behavior saying that it's better than the canon already established ship is just wrong. You're just coping you didn't get what you wanted.

This isn't to say that most Starboy fans are bad. There are those who genuinely love the idea so much they want to make their own take on it. Some even make their own non Jack Frost inspired designs but they are just as rare as the people who like Wish as it is, flaws and all. They just don't want to be lumped in with the obsessive ones.

I'm not against the human Star idea, or giving Asha a romantic partner at all. I even consider Dahlia to be a potential love interest given that she and Asha are close and since I am not a fan that most romance stories are about characters getting together and becoming official AT the end instead of BEING together from start to finish, why not have Asha and Dahlia be established girlfriends.

I'm rather fond of the cat monster Star design because I'm a furry and would love to see fan content of him but I don't necessarily need it that bad I would be pointlessly unreasonable salty.

I'm disinterested at the Starboy craze at best and annoyed at worst. I still hold my opinion that most designs are just so samey you could practically make NFTs out of them but I am aware there are fan designs that take a different approach and make no mistake that's genuinely alright.

As much as I don't like, as in neutral towards most Stargirl fangirls, I do appreciate the work and effort they put into their art and I highly encourage them to take risks with their creativity and think outside of the box.

However, I highly discourage the behavior some of them have about being robbed when they are literally making and consuming content that was taken away from them for themselves and acting that a work with the things they like in it is better than those without them.

Thank you for reading and I am sorry for wasting your time.

⭐️

[echantedtoon]

What If: Gyutaro Edition

DISCLAIMER: THIS WORK IS IN ABSOLUTELY NO WAY CANNON TO DEMON BRIDE AND IS NOT AN ENDING. IT IS A WHAT IF IDEA THAT I THOUGHT WOULD BE FUN TO WRITE. PLEASE KEEP THAT IN MIND GOING FORWARD.

Warnings: Douma IS his own warning. Possibly some innuendos.

If you get the references for Gyu's kiddos you get a cookie.

************************************

How did his life come to this again?  He wasn't exactly sure himself...

He certainly wasn't expecting to be sitting here cradling such a small life in his arms. A small perfectly wrapped up combination of blue blankets. A small head nestled outside of them. The small defenseless thing completely asleep to the cruelties of the cold world. Little breaths taken as he knew nothing but slumber despite the messy curls of green locks threatening to accidentally get sucked into the open mouth. A small innocence in the chaos of the man holding him-

"Ni,Ni! Gyutaro, you're not balancing his head up right." A blue nailed hand reached over to push his elbow up higher cradling the infant's head. "Here. You're supposed to hold a baby's head leveled with or higher than their feet. Try this." He let go and rainbow eyes smiled happily at the slightly scared man in front of him. "There you go! I knew you could do it!"

"How do you even know so much about holding babies?" Sickly yellow eyes blinked at the more colorful ones.

"I hold them all the time to bless the newborns and welcome them to the compound."

He didn't question that but the yellow eyes turned to the other infant Douma held in his arms. A mirror image of the son he held only his daughter had a black splotach pattern across her cheek. His scared him at first that one of his offspring had been born with such a marking but found comfort in that her only marking looked so much like a flower unlike the ones that lined out his own body. They were beautiful. Just as he had hoped they would be. Relief flooded him, but with newborns it always was very stressful to handle. Twins were even more of a stress. He was grateful for the constant helping hand of the more experienced Upper Moon. 

"Scary Dad!". 

Both men's heads turned to a familiar sight. Ah. The white haired boy. Rui walked in ignoring the obvious presence of Douma in favor of walking right up to the skinnier upper moon. His pale hand holding the hand of his one year old brother and technically Gyutaro's firstborn son. The toddler toddled along being led by the eleven year and stopped when Rui did as his older adopted brother looked at Gyutaro.

"Douma and I want to go outside and play. May we?," the spider child asked him. 

Douma's smile got incredibly wider from right across from Gyutaro and Rui frowned. Yeah...In hindsight maybe it wasn't a good idea to name his firstborn after someone his eldest disliked but at the time he thought it was a good idea. Naming him after someone who practically raised him and Daki and got them so far in life...Douma was never going to let him live it down however. Always bragging about being 'Grandpa Douma.' The toddler next to him only blinked up with big blue eyes and unruly black hair covering his face.

"No...I'm exhausted trying to watch all of you." Rui pouted and Douma looked at his older brother... before mimicking his pout. He could call it cute if he wasn't so busy trying to watch four kids under the age of twelve. "You heard me. Is Daki back yet?" 

His sister had INSISTED on giving Y/n a girls' night out saying that 'she needed a break from mother duties for a bit' and 'he could use a day bonding with his kids.' No way he was ready to handle watching four kids with three being a toddler and two infants yet. Thank the gods Douma was always willing to help him with anything he needed.

In his own words saying, "If you ever need or want any help, just know that you can come to me. I've dealt with many children in my compound and there's many other parents and midwives that would be more than welcome to help teach you."

He definitely has taken up his old mentor's offers of help more than once even if Y/n didn't Always like him spontaneously dropping by Upper Moon Two's domain for surprise visits. But she relented seeing how much he was still struggling with the life of being a new dad.

"Then can I hold Ume or Yushiro?" He held up his hands towards him and the infant he held with newfound awe. "I barely get to hold them anymore."

He sighed. "Fine but sit down and do it. And be careful!"

"I'm always careful!"

Despite him raising a brow he rolled his eyes and relented, gently sliding Yushiro out of his hold and into the awestruck arms of Rui who perfectly cradled him from hours of practice by his mother and plopped himself down right there in front of them. A big smile on his pale features. Hm..Well he'd admit the kid was a pretty good big brother. Douma followed Rui's motions like before and also mimicked him plopping down only to tumble over on accident and then giggle at his mishap like any happy one year old would. Despite himself the actions of the children made him huff and smile the slightest bit-

"Uh oh. Did someone wake up from her nap?," Douma's voice cooed and it made him look over. In his distraction his daughter had woken up and up on seeing that it wasn't her father, mother, or older brother holding her had started to kick up a fuss in Douma's arms. Whining and moving her limbs under the blankets. "Aw. Someone's cranky. Looks like someone wants Daddy."

"Wait. What?"

He didn't even get a chance to say anything else before the smiling blonde was already hoisting the fussing girl out of his arms and plopping her right into a slightly panicked Gyutaro's whom practically froze when the squirming infant was suddenly in his hold. Ume continued to move around making whined of protests before looking back up and pausing meeting his usual terrifying face. She slowly paused seeing him and both just stared at one another for a long moment before the derpy chubby face gave a lopsided smile at him followed by a giggle. Something warm swelled up in his chest and she was held closer to himself.

"Do you need help there?"

".....No." He smiled. For once in a very long time in his long, hard life. A sense of domestic normalcy and pride only he could have. "I'm fine."

[vynnytypesstuff]

Hello! Im here for a request if you dont mind, i loved the platonic stuff you wrote for lmk and wanted to request a platonic drabble with Sun Wukong and Macaque. If you don’t do that then can i get some headcanons? Enjoy your vacation!!

꒰୨୧﹒Lego Monkie Kid - Platonic Drabbles for Sun Wukong and Macaque

Ngl I had fun writing this request. I think I favor writing platonic stuff lmao

Thanks for your patience and here you go <33

Warnings: None

Sun Wukong

(Word Count: 430)

[Name] yawned, stretching their arms outwards as they laid on their back against the firm mattress of Wukong's couch. With the long week they've had to deal with, a lazy Sunday was the exact crowning jewel they needed to kick back and unwind, and what better way to spend them than with one of your closest friends?

Resisting the urge to let their exhaustion coax them into slumber, [Name] turned over onto their side, curious to see what Wukong had been up to during the time they had been staring at the ceiling. The Monkey King had been seated on the floor, surprisingly too focused on whatever task he was trying to complete to respond to [Name]'s movements. Upon closer inspection, in front of him was a piece of paper with art supplies scattered around him.

[Name] blinked, "since when do you draw?"

That seemed to be enough to grab Wukong's attention. "Uh, since always? Didn't I tell you this before?"

"Yeah, but… I kind of figured you were bluffing."

Wukong looked at them with false offense, sputtering in exaggeration, as if he were actually upset by that comment. "Wha- I'm shocked! Offended, even! I have my hidden talents you know. See for yourself!"

Reluctantly, [Name] rolled off the couch to get a look at Wukong's supposed masterpiece. A lingering part of them still expected to see a humorous assortment of scribbles, yet they were completely blown away once they witnessed his scarily realistic and accurate depiction of Flower Fruit Mountain, fully sketched down to it's finest details. It even had Wukong's little monkeys companions, who's sketched counterparts were scurrying around the mountain.

"How is your work not on display in a museum?!" [Name] exclaimed questioningly. They felt a little guilty about underestimating Wukong's artistic talents. They just weren't expecting him to be insanely good.

"Stage fright, or something," Wukong nonchalantly shrugged.

"Or maybe being the Monkey King is just a cover for your true identity as an artist," They mused. "I can't believe you've had a secret identity all this time and you didn't tell me."

He laughed, deciding to play along with the joke. "Caught me red-handed! And if I told you, it wouldn't be a secret."

Their exchange of friendly banter went on for quite some time before [Name] finally decided to abandon their original Sunday plans of having an intense ceiling-staring session, choosing to watch Wukong color his work before grabbing a piece of paper for themself and joining him in his makeshift "art studio." Overall, it was the perfect close to a weekend of relaxation.

Macaque

(Word Count: 446)

"'Come hiking with me' you said. 'It'll be worth it' you said," a muttered complaint spilled into the air, courtesy of [Name]. Macaque and [Name] had been hiking the same mountain for a little over an hour. The rugged terrain combined with the narrow twists and turns of the trail wasn't helping with [Name]'s growing exhaustion. "It feels like we've been at this for ages! How much further until we're there?"

Macaque's voice rumbled in a soft, fond chuckle, clearly finding amusement in his friend's whining. "Relax, we're almost there. Besides, I meant what I said. You'll be thanking me once we've reached the top. Would I lie to you?"

[Name] opened their mouth to respond, but Macaque beat them to the punch with a quick "don't answer that."

Thankfully, Macaque had been truthful. A mere ten minutes after that small exchange, they had finally reached their final destination. It was the height of the Spring season, so despite the gentle chill of the flowing breeze hitting their skin, the weather was warm and comfortable. The view itself was breathtaking. The natural assortment of flora below them shone vibrantly against the sunlight, resembling the picturesque nature of a meticulously painted landscape.

The awed look on [Name]'s face didn't escape Macaque's gaze. "Told you it would be worth it." He grinned, finding a spot near the mountain's edge to sit down. "Honestly, even I forgot how beautiful the view was from up here."

"You haven't been here recently?"

Macaque shook his head in answer. "I used to come up here all the time with an old friend, so it just brings up a lot of memories, you know?" Perhaps [Name] was imagining it, but it almost sounded like there was a hint of sadness in his voice. They chose not to question it, instead letting him continue. "I wasn't sure how I'd feel about coming up here again."

'It's part of the reason I invited you,' a sudden thought that went unspoken. That was a little too vulnerable for his tastes.

[Name] walked over to where he was sat and settled next to him. They didn't speak after that, instead choosing to take in the view in comfortable silence. There was nothing awkward about it. Believe it or not, Macaque wasn't always the most talkative, so having someone he could sit with in silence was a pleasant change of pace.

Time passed, with [Name] being the one to break the silence. "Thanks for inviting me, this was actually pretty nice."

"Glad you like it. Does that mean you'll stop bugging me by asking 'are we there yet' every time we climb up here?"

"Don't count on it."

[overlordmetal]

Xenamon reference sheet

"For too long, Earthlings have suffered at the mercy of beings born superior to us. For too long have we relied on those same beings deemed superior to fight our battles for us--that changes now."

General information

Full Name: Xenamon

Name pun/meaning: Xenamon = Cinnamon

Nicknames/Alternate Names: "The Earthling with the Might of a Saiyan"

Gender: Male

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Age: 

Birth Date: October 18, Age 756

Birth Place: Sacred Land of Korin

Nationality/Ethnicity: Karinga Tribesman

Species: Human-Type Earthling

Relationship Status: Single

Dominant Hand: Ambidextrous

Base of Operations: Mobile; Korin Tower (formerly)

Occupation: Martial Artist, Tribesman, Guardian, Freedom Fighter

Physical Information

Height: 5’7” / 170 cm

Weight: 117 lbs / 53 kg

Body Build: Slim and Athletic

Hair Color: Black

Eye Color: Black

Skin Tone: Tan

Birthmarks: n/a

Scars: several small scars scattered across his body from fighting (especially on his hands and feet)

Tattoos: n/a

Piercings: n/a

Other: Long nails coated in a special black husk, tribal makeup

Personality

MBTI: INTJ

Attitude:

In his youth, Xenamon already displayed his natural leadership qualities and intelligence but was more cheerful and sociable, often reaching out to anyone who he thought needed help. He was polite and level-headed, but wasn’t above falling into the usual hysterics that a young child would. He was very bold and straight-forward, sometimes saying things that could potentially offend (though it was out of curiosity rather than ill-intent). Xenamon was also outwardly empathetic, easily being able to easily relate with other people’s dilemmas and provide help.

By his teens, Xenamon is usually serious and reserved, keeping a level head in most situations. His meticulous approach combined with his keen observational skills often give him an analytical edge in most situations as he carefully plans intricate strategies for various challenges. He’s also creative and isn’t afraid to try new things as long as he believes the result will likely be favorable. Xenamon exercises a great deal of discipline, often following a strict regimen diligently and preferring to plan his day out beforehand. Despite this, he isn’t afraid to adapt should his hand be forced.

Generally a loner, Xenamon greatly values and appreciates his companions, but only opens up and expresses himself around those he trusts. Despite his reserved nature, Xenamon is usually polite and prefers to speak in a formal manner. He rarely expresses his emotions, desiring to keep them under control rather than allow them to cloud his judgment. This is especially enforced by past mistakes caused by when he let his feelings get the better of him. Xenamon is also prone to bearing heavy burdens on his own, taking duties on as his responsibility. Xenamon can appear unusually shaken or emotional if he feels he's lost control of a situation or is unable to come to any solutions.

Though mainly reliant on logic and reason, Xenamon retains a strong moral code, despising the evil in the world. He understands that fighting alone will not solve this and strives to influence mindsets to turn away from malevolence. Though initially reluctant to kill, Xenamon believes there are times where such an action is necessary.

___

Likes:

Art - Xenamon enjoys the arts very much and can be found painting and crafting or admiring artworks and sculptures from time to time.

Literature - Xenamon is an avid reader, often seen with a book in his off-time. He enjoys work of fiction as well as studying various sciences and psychology. Xenamon also keeps a journal.

Martial Arts - Ever since he was young, Xenamon was always interested in the martial arts because they allowed a normal human to be physically formidable. This is why he trains rigorously to achieve personal strength in order to remain competent and able to protect what he cares about.

Rock Music - Xenamon enjoys listening to rock music very much--especially heavy metal.

Cats - his favorite animal. His favorite type of cat are Tigers, especially the Siberian Tiger.

Fruit - Xenamon’s snack of choice, his favorite fruit of all being the dragon fruit.

Meditating - Xenamon spends a lot of time thinking and meditating about different things. He creates a lot of strategies and also analyzes different topics in depth.

Dislikes:

Corruption and Disorder

Androids and Alien Invaders - Xenamon can get along with foreign races just fine, but he's weary of all the tragedies his world has suffered from the malicious kind that use their power to cause suffering.

Junk food - Xenamon grew up in the Sacred Lands and as such, never developed a taste for fried, processed, fatty, or fast foods.

Fears:

Failing or losing control - Xenamon hates feeling useless or like a failure and losing control of situations; especially when it’s something important to him.

History

Xenamon was born October 18, Age 756 in the Sacred Land of Korin to a family of the Karinga Tribe. As he grew into a boy, Xenamon was a very responsible child, joining his parents and the other adults in the activities and duties of the Karinga Tribe, often acting as a natural leader among the children. In the original timeline (Future Trunks' timeline), Xenamon witnesses the androids destroy his home and people, being one of the few Karinga Tribesmen to survive the onslaught. He then spends the next several years training and searching for other fighters in order to take the androids down and restore Earth. In the current timeline however, Xenamon remains with his people since Korin and the Karinga Tribe are still alive.

Family, Alignment and Affiliations

Family

Parents/Guardian: Sal (father), Shu-Gah (mother)

Siblings: n/a

Significant Other: n/a

Children/Offspring: n/a

Pets: n/a

Alignment: Neutral-Good

Affiliations: Karinga Tribe; Kame House, Dragon Team (Future Trunks Timeline)

Mentors: Bora, Korin, Mr. Popo; Master Roshi (Future Trunks timeline)

Friends: Upa, Bora, Korin; Future Trunks, Bulma, Master Roshi, Pu'ar, Santoor, Oboe (Future Trunks timeline)

Enemies: Androids 17 and 18, Cell, Babidi, Dabura, Goku Black, Zamasu (Future Trunks Timeline)

Rival(s): Alcolio

Worst Enemy/Arch-Nemesis: Androids 17 and 18 (Future Trunks Timeline)

Acquaintances: Turtle, Oolong, Bellini, Vodaka, Crucifer (Future Trunks Timeline)

Other: Xenamon is a big fan of the Dragon Team (Goku, Vegeta, Gohan, Piccolo, Krillin, Yamcha, Tien, Chiaotzu, Master Roshi), even though he doesn't know them personally in most timelines.

Stats and Transformations

Power Level: 18,000 to 250,000; 180,000 to 25,000,000 with Primal Spirit activated. 1,000,000 to 65,000,000; 10,000,000 to 650,000,000 with Primal Spirit activated (Future Trunks Timeline).

Note: I was scaling off of the characters from the different sagas so power level numbers are nothing more than estimates since they stopped counting after Namek.

Powers & Abilities: Ki Manipulation, Superhuman Physiology, Enhanced Senses, Self-Enhancement; Flight (Future Trunks Timeline). Expert Martial Artist, Expert Tactician, Expert Survivalist, Skilled Swimmer, Artistry.

Ki Color: Red-Orange, Black, Blue

Fighting Styles: Karinga Style, Korin Style; Kame Style (Future Trunks Timeline)

With "Primal Spirit" Activated

Xenamon focuses his inner ki and harnesses the enrgy surrounding him to awaken his "Primal Spirit". With this ability activated, Xenamon's power is multiplied tenfold and his senses are enhanced to the point where he can touch, taste, smell, and see ki. His fingers form especially sharp ki claws that allow him to bypass his opponent's physical form and directly attack their spirits. He also possesses unique camouflage and tracking abilities while in this state and can phase through material objects.

Notable Techniques

Ki Claws - user concentrates their ki into their fingers, forming claws capable of slicing through most substances.

Tracer - User plunges a ki shard into their opponent, creating minimal damage and allowing said user to track their opponent’s movements and vitals at all times.

Blindspot - The user bends light around their body, similarly to the Solar Flare but instead uses it to cloak their appearance, rendering them invisible. They can also muffle their sound by concentrating the ki in their body to minimize impact between them and the floor. The user can hold this as long as they maintain concentration.

Predator’s Grip - User latches onto an opponent’s back and pierces their claws into their nervous system, gaining control over the victim’s movements. As long as they remain physically connected to the nerves, the user can maintain control over the body.

Paralyzing Bite - user uses a variation of Predator’s Grip to paralyze their opponent. The user does not need to remain connected for paralysis to continue and the effects can last from a few minutes to life depending on the severity of the attack.

Homicide Bomb - User performs a variation of Predator’s Grip to detonate their opponent, causing them to explode and create mass destruction.

Night Vision - User adapts their eyes for perfect night vision through the use of ki.

Living Anchor - User densifies their body using ki to make themselves immovable.

Splitting Roar - user manipulates ki to amplify their voice, allowing them to create various effects such as disorientating or incapacitating their opponent, splitting objects, and the like.

Ki Blast - The most basic form of energy wave.

Ki Sense - An ability that allows the user to sense ki and power levels.

Afterimage Technique – An ability to move so swiftly that an image of the user is left behind.

Telepathy – A way to communicate with others using one's mind.

Pressure Point Attack – A technique which, by touching or hitting weakly certain pressure points on an opponent's body, can incite effects such as paralysis or knock the opponent out. Enough prolonged pressure on the pressure points can also kill the opponent.

Ki Blast Thrust - The user focuses their ki into their fist and charges toward the opponent with an ki-enhanced punch which can cancel out weak to average Ki Blasts as they charge toward the opponent.

Flight -  The ability to fly with the use of ki (Future Trunks Timeline only).

Signature Technique: Spirit Crusher - Xenamon uses his Ki Claws to strike key points in his opponent's body, immobilizing them and blocking off their ability to utilize ki. Spirit Crusher can also be used fatally to permanently separate his opponent's spirit from their body.

Weaknesses:

Since his senses are keen, they can be overwhelmed by loud noises, etc. Can only hold his power up for ten minutes straight before powering down, which leaves his spirit detached from his body for ten days as it recovers in Other World. Can’t breath in the vacuum of space.

Other Notes

Xenamon was originally conceived as the son of Yamcha. Similarly to how Yamcha is wolf-themed, Xenamon was tiger-themed. His origin was later reworked however to avoid following the common trope of "OC children".

Xenamon and Alcolio were originally going to be half-brothers from the same mother

Xenamon's name is a pun on the spice, cinnamon.

Character Theme: Sepultura - Roots Bloody Roots

[ionozoned]

new comment from f:  if iono intends to make a statement, then it is only fair that someone so audacious in nature be successful. but we must ask ourselves if it is the right statement to make. the highlight of this ensemble is surely the chunk-heeled footwear, as it did us viewers the favor of only appearing in frame for roughly 10% of the stream. and as far as gym leaders with electric type specialties go, I find her yellow and black combination to be quite trite. ( sorry I couldn't stop thinking about them beefing over clothes )

unprompted (always accepting) || @intriguant

YIPPEE, A NEW COMMENT!!! Despite the fact that she got so many nowadays, she still liked seeing new ones come in, even if she didn't always read every single one like she used to when she'd first started her channel. It didn't really matter to her what the comment was- engagement was engagement! Negative comments were just as good to her as positive ones- actually, the former was probably even better. She loved a good controversy or internet beef! So long as it was mild enough that it didn't end in her having to make her 20-something-th apology video (she'd long since lost count) she was so plugged in.

Her eyes sparkled as she read this one over. It was one of the pettiest comments she'd received all month. It was beautiful- an absolute gold mine. She put on her best faux tears despite being alone in her room save for Bellibolt snoozing amongst her plushies in the corner. (He was doing a pretty great ET cosplay, admittedly.) She forced her hands to tremble as she typed, hoping to make it seem like she was crying and too upset to check for typos in her response.

[ omggggg woowoowowwowza wth?/?/?11??1!! mean to me???? u dont have to be such a HATER!!!111!! i dont remember asking for ur opinion, friendo! :( : ( :( :(:(L( what did i ever do 2 u??? if u dont like my streams u dont have to watch them!!! block me n move on bucko :( :( :( :9 :( sorry my fave colors r boring to u! maybe i just like combee movie did u EVER CONSIDER THAT?????? ur not just insulting me ur insulting combarry cb combenson HIMSELF. stop cyberbullying me, loser!!! ]

Aaaand send. She was going to get sooooo many sympathy comments. Epic win. Take that, random commenter. (Does she know that this commenter is clearly Faba? No. She does not. She's plugged in but she's not that plugged in.)

[mais-nerdy-corner]

𝕬 𝕸𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝕿𝖎𝖒𝖊: 𝕿𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝕷𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝕽𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙 | 𝕬𝖑𝖍𝖆𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖒 𝖝 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Synopsis: Fifteen years have passed and now the Scribe's twin daughters have grown up. Although twins, they have very different goals. The younger twin, Afiyah, was interested in pharmacy and her determination to heal people. Meanwhile the older twin, Aqilah, was only focused on getting stronger and wants nothing to do with her father.

Pairing: Alhaitham x Female! Reader

Genre: Angst & fluff

Note: I have also made canon character designs for Aqilah and Afiyah so if you are curious to see them, please do let me know :)

It's been fifteen years since the day you passed, and many things have changed in Sumeru. For the better I assure you. But the question is, what has changed? And what influence did that time have on Sumeru?

Well, for starters, a new Grand Sage must have been selected within the fifteen year span. Fortunately during his governing, Sumeru experienced significant developments. Businesses owned by the elders are now being passed down to their children or grandchildren. And in fact, the Palace of Alcazarzaray's architect now has a place of his own!

Despite all the good things that have happened in the space of fifteen years, time hasn't been kind to Alhaitham. The difficulty of juggling personal and work-related responsibilities has been hard, but it's fortunate that he has his friends to help him out.

Alhaitham remembered all the sleepless nights he and Kaveh had when his twin daughters cried as they tried to sleep. He remembered the time he had trouble trying to feed them, especially his older daughter. To the extent that he needed to call in reinforcements (aka Kaveh, which she oddly favored).

Speaking of his daughters, we haven't even caught their names yet. One thing you should know about them is that even though they are twins, they are very different from one another.

Let's start with the younger twin, Afiyah. Her personality is not at all the same as yours or his, rather she is a sweet, kind and very caring person. Afiyah inherited her father's gray hair and also your (eye color) eyes, the same eyes her Uncle Kaveh adored. From an early age, Afiyah was interested in becoming a 'doctor', she said. But after having a better understanding of her words, what Afiyah meant was pharmacist.

"I know my limits, I'm not a person fit to lead. But with my knowledge of medicine and herbs combined with that of a doctor, I believe we can heal many people together. We don't know when a dangerous illness like Eleazar will return, so I will do my best to prevent it!"

Meanwhile, the older twin, Aqilah, looks exactly like Alhaitham. Some say she is a carbon copy of her father. Personality-wise, not so much. Sure there may be some similarities, but Aqilah does not want to be associated with him surely for some apparent reason.

"..."

"...I have my own reasons for resenting my father, and I prefer not to talk about it. That is all."

Aqilah doesn't hate her sister however. She swore to protect her 'since her father was too busy to protect them by himself and neglected them' she once said. Thus, she's used to living an independent life from an early age.

It was really early in the morning. The sun hasn't come out and yet Alhaitham was already awake. He already wore his usual attire and was getting ready to go out.

Before leaving the house, Alhaitham quietly opened the twins' bedroom door to see them still sound asleep. As a farewell, he went to kiss the forehead of his two daughters. Afiyah smiled feeling the touch of her father's affection, meanwhile Aqilah seemed to feel disgusted as her eyebrow twitched.

With that, Alhaitham left to a place that he and a few others knew about. Heading south-west from the Akademiya, across the vine bridge made of the Divine Tree's roots and under a shady tree, stood a beautiful marble gravestone with your name engraved on it. Your resting place was the contribution of many people, even though some you've never met.

At first, Kaveh insisted he would build 'the most beautiful and majestic mausoleum' for you. But given his financial problems at the time, he opted to make your gravestone out of marble instead. The small island you rest on used to be inhabited by enemies like Hilichurls, Eremites and Fungi. But with the power of the Dendro Archon and several Aranara, they were able to drive the enemies away.

Others like Nilou, Dehya, Dunyarzad and Cyno have visited your grave from time to time and left flowers for you. Even people like Tighnari and Collei have visited because of Kaveh's invitation. They too have their own contributions. As the twins grew, it was Nilou who helped buy clothes for them. After learning about Aqilah's determination to practice swordsmanship, Cyno and Dehya offered to teach her. And when Afiyah came to Gandharva Ville to study botany, Tighnari didn't turn her down.

Placing down the flowers he picked from around the city, Alhaitham kneeled down and caressed the smooth marble gravestone. Tears started to form in his eyes as he was constantly reminded by the name engraved on it every time he read it. Alhaitham maintained most of his composure, but still a few tears managed to escape from his watering eyes.

"It's... It's been a while since my last visit, hasn't it? *sigh* Apologies... I've been busy carrying out the orders of the new Grand Sage recently. I can tell... it's for the better. For Sumeru and for the lives of our two daughters. I will keep trying to be a good father for them. I promise."

As Alhaitham continued to talk to you, or rather, talking to himself, the sun began to rise. He knew it was time to take his leave. Alhaitham kissed your gravestone goodbye before walking away, looking back and leaving with a heavy heart.

The people of Sumeru began to follow the activities that the Scribe had already done. Getting ready for their morning activities, whether it's sweeping the streets, rushing to the Citadel of Regzar for their morning gathering, or opening their shop. And a certain general goods shop owner was doing just that.

Sumeru General Goods, a shop previously owned by Hamawi, has now been passed down to his second son. His eldest son Sal owned a shop in Port Ormos and his youngest son Jut continued to be a spice merchant. His second son Mawyo was sweeping the front of his shop when the Scribe came up to him.

"O-oh, Scribe Alhaitham...! Just a moment, let me clean this up first," Mawyo said.

"Take your time. I'm in no rush myself."

Mawyo put the broom back in its place and hurried back. "So, what can I get for you?" he asked.

"Just some groceries for breakfast. My daughter usually cooks breakfast so I don't know what ingredients she wants."

"Alright, let's see..."

Just as Mawyo thought the Scribe's request was a little difficult and confusing, his savior came to his aid.

"Need me to take over, Mawyo?"

"Halima...! I... *sigh* I need your help..."

Halimah is Mawyo's wife. And just like her name, she's forebearing, gentle, mild-mannered and generous.

"Honestly, you're nothing without me. But listen to me Mawyo, you can't depend on other people forever. You should at least start being independent. What? Twenty years into the future and you still depend on Sal, me and Jut?" Halima advised.

"Of course not. I'm trying, okay? But please, just this one time?" Mawyo begged.

"Alright... Just because I love you..."

Mawyo kissed his wife on the cheek before going somewhere. Of course, Alhaitham witnessed their loving and affectionate interactions. Something that he can't give you much. Halima knows that Mawyo is not the perfect husband, but she still loves him because he is trying to be better. But himself? Hah, there's not a single effort he's made to make himself better.

Alhaitham was snapped back to reality when Halima asked him a question. "So, what was it that my husband can't fulfill?"

"I asked him to choose some groceries that were enough for breakfast. I don't know what to buy since my daughter does the cooking," he explained.

"I see. That's completely understandable. Please wait a moment sir, I will pick out your groceries."

(itty-bitty tiny time skip brought to you by the author :P)

"I have given a number of options for your daughter to cook later. And that would be a total of 5720 Mora, sir."

Halima placed the basket of groceries on the shop counter and Alhaitham handed her a pouch of Mora. After exchanging their thank yous and goodbyes, he headed to his second destination, Puspa Café.

"Hello, welcome to Puspa Café. Would you like to start with a cup of coffee to keep you energized all day?"

Enteka, now the manager of Puspa Café, greeted the Scribe when he entered.

"No, thank you. I'll just have two Rose Custard to go," Alhaitham said.

"Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, that's all."

"Alright, that'll be 5000 Mora, sir. Let me get your order from the back."

Alhaitham placed another pouch of Mora on the counter as Enteka took two Rose Custard from the back.

"Our Rose Custards are contained in reusable gold cups, which is why they are a bit pricey. Thank you for your purchase. Take care, hope to see you again."

"I'm back..."

When Alhaitham entered the house, he saw his younger daughter Afiyah sitting on one of the living room wooden sofas, clearly still sleepy.

"Hm? Oh... Welcome back, Father. Did you go out to buy groceries? You shouldn't have..." she said.

Like a cat awakening from its sleep, Afiyah stretched and yawned before taking the basket of groceries from her father. She looked over the selection of ingredients he could use to cook breakfast.

"Where's Aqilah? Is she still asleep?" Alhaitham asked.

"Mm-hm, she must be exhausted since she came home late last night... I'll start cooking breakfast, she'll eventually wake up."

(Later)

"Shit shit shit shit shit...!"

Aqilah cursed as she came rushing into the kitchen, stopping when she saw Afiyah smiling at her. Alhaitham was also there reading documents from Akademiya, but his older daughter ignored him, as if he never existed.

"Good morning, Aqilah. Come, sit down. I've cooked breakfast for you."

"I don't have time for breakfast. I'm already late for my sword training session."

Afiyah looked at her older twin sister who was putting on her stockings and knee high boots. She was concerned, and she had every right to be. Skipping breakfast isn't good...

"Do you have to go? I mean, you've been really busy lately. Are you sure you don't want to take a break?" Afiyah asked.

"I have promised the General Mahamatra that I will come to practice when he is free. I can't just show up or be absent as I please. I understand your concern but what I do is for the best."

"..."

Aqilah rose from her seat and threw her green cape over her shoulders. She was just about to take her Xiphos' Moonlight sword and leave, but was stopped because of something Afiyah said.

"At least bring one Rose Custard and some Zaytun Peaches to eat on your way there. I don't want you to leave on an empty stomach."

Aqilah looked back before sighing and walking back to get her Rose Custard and some Zaytun Peaches.

"Are you happy now?" she asked.

"Mm-hm, very happy. Now go. Oh, and be careful on the way there."

"Hm, will do."

Aqilah smiled at her sister before taking her sword and leaving the house. Subconsciously, Alhaitham and Afiyah sighed almost at the same time after Aqilah left.

"Aqilah's ignoring Father again..." Afiyah mumbled.

(Meanwhile, outside)

Aqilah ate one of the Zaytun Peaches she brought while walking to the city gate. When she got there, she saw someone who seemed to be waiting for her.

"Uncle Rahman? What are you doing here?"

"There you are, kiddo. For a moment I thought you wouldn't show up."

"You didn't answer my question. What are you doing here?" Aqilah emphasized her question.

"Well, I heard that the General Mahamatra agreed to train the Scribe's daughter in his spare time. And coincidentally today's the day. So I came here to pick you up," he said.

"Pick me up? What, to make sure that I wouldn't run off and miss my training session?"

"Of course not, I wouldn't think of you that way. Come on, kiddo. We don't want you to be late."

Afiyah returned to Sumeru City before lunch time after her study session with Tighnari in Gandharva Ville. She intended to go to Aaru Village to catch up with Aqilah, after she was done with something.

Afiyah returned home and packed two lunch boxes, one bigger than the other. She headed to her next destination, the Akademiya.

(time skip brought to you by le author :v)

Entering the Akademiya, Afiyah looked around hoping to find her father among the sea of ​​students and scholars talking in the main hall. But he was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he's just busy...

An Amurta scholar noticed Afiyah's presence, decided to approach her.

"Excuse me, are you Miss Afiyah? Scribe Alhaitham's daughter? Is there anything I can help you with?"

Afiyah turned to face the scholar and simply nodded. "I was wondering where my father was. Can you take me to his office?"

"Of course! Right this way, my lady."

As the scholar led Afiyah through the halls of the Akademiya, she was met with stares and glances from other students and scholars. Some were even whispering about her. But she paid little attention to their doing.

"Here we are, Miss Afiyah. The Scribe's office."

They both arrived in front of Alhaitham's office. When Afiyah was about to knock on the door, the scholar stopped her and put his ear to the door.

"It sounds like Scribe Alhaitham's talking to someone," said the scholar.

"Oh... Should I have come at a better time?" Afiyah asked, her tone of disappointment obviously there.

"Oh no, it's alright Miss Afiyah! I'm sure your father could spare some time for his daughter."

The scholar's words somehow managed to put a smile on Afiyah's face. His words were really reassuring and... comforting.

"Your words really comfort me. Thank you... How should I thank you? You never really gave me your name."

"..."

"It's Geoff, Miss Afiyah."

"Thank you, Geoff. You can go now."

Geoff left Afiyah alone at the office door, taking a deep breath in preparation of meeting her father. She raised her hand hesitantly, and knocked on the door.

"You may enter."

When Afiyah opened the office door, Alhaitham looked surprised to see his younger daughter.

"Afiyah? What brings you here to my office?" he asked.

"Well, I... I made you lu–"

"Why, if it isn't the Scribe's daughter Afiyah herself! It seems you've grown since the last time I saw you, haha," said the man who was talking to Alhaitham. He went to pet Afiyah's head and said something before leaving.

"We can continue this conversation later, Scribe Alhaitham. Enjoy your time with your daughter."

That left only Afiyah and Alhaitham in the office. The Scribe cleared his throat before repeating his question.

"Apologies for the slight intrusion, let me repeat my question. What brings you to my office, Afiyah?"

"I made you lunch," she answered with a smile.

Alhaitham's eyes widened slightly. "You really don't need to, Afiyah. I could go out and stop by Puspa Café or Lambad's Tavern for my lunch."

"Well, I just feel like it."

Afiyah put the small wooden lunch box on her father's desk, still carrying the bigger one. Alhaitham opened the lid of his lunch box, revealing two Pita Pockets and an Aranara-style Selva Salad. Just the thought of his younger daughter's consideration into making him lunch made Alhaitham smile.

"Are you planning to go somewhere after this? I see you still have one more lunch box, a larger one in fact," he said.

Afiyah hesitates to answer her father's question, but like it or not she has to tell her true intentions.

"...I plan to go after Aqilah to Aaru Village."

!!!

"...And you plan to go there alone?"

"I mean, there's no one else to accompany me... So yes, I have to go there alone."

Alhaitham was silent, a worried expression was evident on his face. The problem is, Afiyah is unlike Aqilah. Aqilah can go anywhere alone just fine, meanwhile in Afiyah's case... hmm. Alhaitham allowed her to go to Gandharva Ville just because it was close. But a trip to Aaru Village? That's out of the question.

"I will send a few Corps of Thirty mercenaries to escort you there," he stated.

"You don't have to take it too far, Father. I can take care of myself, I also have Zaleos' power to protect me."

Ah, there it is. The "Zaleos' power" card that he was a bit irritated with. Not only have you inherited the power, but your two daughters as well. Afiyah pursues the mastery of Zaleos' powers, while Aqilah has her Vision.

Alhaitham clenched his fists under his desk, contemplating whether he should prevent Afiyah from going or let her go.

"...This is a tough and difficult choice for me, but I think I will let you go. I would be more relieved if you accompanied by someone though."

"Thank you very much, Father! I should get going now, I don't want to keep Aqilah waiting."

Afiyah turned around and left her father's office, leaving Alhaitham to sigh alone.

(On Treasures Street)

Afiyah was heading towards the southern city gate when she saw a certain mercenary she knew very well.

"Aunt Dehya, you have returned from your trip?"

The Eremite mercenary who goes by the name Flame-Mane turned around, now facing the Azure Starlight.

"Hey, look who it is! How are ya doing, kid? Yeah, my lady got a little too excited and tire herself out from the trip. So we decided to return to Sumeru," Dehya explained.

"Hehe, oh Miss Dunyarzad... Did you bring any souvenirs?"

"Were you hoping to get some? I'll see what I can make of our shopping pile," Dehya said before pausing when she saw the wooden lunch box that Afiyah brought, "Say, are ya going somewhere?"

"Oh, I'm going to Aaru Village to catch up with Aqilah."

"Dang, you're going there alone? What was Alhaitham thinking letting you go alone?" Dehya asked.

"Ah, don't worry! Father has allowed me to go there. He'd be more at ease if someone like you come with me. He even brought up the idea of ​​some Corps of Thirty mercenaries escorting me there, which I thought was a bit too much."

"I mean, I can't blame him for bringing up an idea like that... Let's get going, this will take a while."

Dehya walked ahead with Afiyah still standing where she was. The mercenary turned around wondering why the Scribe's daughter had not followed her, before she proposed an idea of ​​her own.

"I can think of a quicker way to get there. What if I told you I could, at least try to teleport us there?"

"...Let's give it a shot."

"Okay, let's try not to do something I'm clearly not good at ever again..."

Dehya laughed out loud at Afiyah's words. Just now, Afiya teleported them to the fountain in Pardis Dhyai. Even after they arrived at the desert, Afiyah's cheeks were still rosy and Dehya was still laughing.

"How can you still laugh even after what just happened, Aunt Dehya? I should be apologizing for getting us both wet," Afiyah said while being dried by Dehya's Pyro shield.

"Hahahaha ahahah... Ehem, sorry kid. That's the best laugh I've gotten in a while. Hey, at least there was an attempt," Dehya said in an effort to comfort Afiyah as she pat her head.

Without them noticing, they had approached the area where Aqilah was supposedly training. Afiyah looked up from her sulking session and saw her older twin sister talking with the General Mahamatra.

"Always remember these things. Always think about your enemy, and always think about yourself. Make sure your thoughts are clear. Only then will you be able to fight better."

"Yes, sir."

"Aqilah!"

Feeling called, Aqilah turned and saw her younger twin sister waving her hand. She made her sword disappear into thin air before running to Afiyah.

"What are you doing here, Afiyah? Are you hurt? Your clothes are a little wet and you are protected by a Pyro shield. Did something happen?"

"Well, we did run into a little mishap... I brought lunch though!"

Aqilah raised her eyebrows on how her sister could still keep her spirits up after her small mishap. Cyno followed Aqilah and approached the two sisters.

"Afiyah, what a pleasant surprise. Did you come here alone or have someone accompany you?" he greeted.

"Haha, there's no need to worry about that, Cyno. I was the one who accompanied her here," said Dehya who joined the group.

"Mm-hm," Afiyah nodded.

The younger twin looked around, making sure that everyone was there. She then suggested them to rest back at Aaru Village.

"Since it looks like your training is over, how about we head back to Aaru Village for lunch. I'm sure there's enough food I've brought for everyone," Afiyah paused, turning to the General Mahamatra, "I even brought Tahchin for you Uncle Cyno."

"..."

"Then you can count me in."

After lunch and catching up with people in Aaru Village, the twins returned to Sumeru City accompanied by the General Mahamatra. They didn't immediately return home, instead they went to the Sanctuary of Surasthana to meet the Dendro Archon, Lesser Lord Kusanali.

"Good afternoon you two. Are you here for your study session?" she greeted.

"Yes we are, Lesser Lord Kusanali," Aqilah replied formally.

"Oh, haven't I told you not to be so formal when talking to me? After all, your father was one of the people who saved from the previous Sages. You can call me Nahida."

"..."

"...I-if that's... what you wish, Nahida..." Aqilah stuttered.

"Hehe, good job. Now, back to the topic at hand. I'm sure you came here to find out more about Zaleos, your ancestor."

"Correct," Afiyah said.

"That's precisely the reason why we've been coming here," Aqilah emphasized.

"I've done a lot of research since our last meeting, books, scrolls, and even searching for information from Irminsul. Before I say anything, I want to know what you found."

"Well, I found out that I could teleport. But not very well..." Afiyah confessed.

"That's okay, we can help you improve. Is there anything you'd like to add, Aqilah?"

"No, Lesser Lord Kusana– Apologies, force of habit..." Aqilah said.

"That's a shame, but it's alright. Now I will put forward whatever I find. Even though my knowledge of Zaleos, her powers, and the Isles of Etsumi is very limited, I will–"

"Wait! Ehem, sorry for my impudence Nahida. But, do the Isles of Etsumi really exist?" Afiyah interrupted.

"That's what I'm still questioning. Documentation about the existence of the Isles of Etsumi from outsiders is very limited, there may be one or two but not very well known. The only source confirming its existence is the scroll your mother got from your grandfather, which your father had gifted me."

Both Aqilah and Afiyah were lost in thoughts. They thought of many ways to find more information. Since the most trusted source was from their grandfather, did they need to travel to Liyue to meet him?

Nahida suddenly leaves and returns with a jar full of Candied Ajilenakh Nuts.

"Here, try to take a bite of this. I asked one of the guards to buy it. I just need one little bite and my brain starts chugging away at top speed, and suddenly there's no problem too difficult for me to solve," she offered.

"Thanks Nahida."

"T-thank you, Nahida..."

The twin sisters took a bite out of the candy, the two of them made different expressions after doing so.

"So? How was it? Did the candy help?"

"It did, I feel my focus coming back. Thanks again Nahida," Afiyah said.

"Hehe, you're welcome. What do you think, Aqila– Aqilah? Are you alright?"

Afiyah stifled a laugh at the funny expression her sister made. The Dendro Archon even held back her laughter.

"Sorry, it was a tad too sweet for me. I still appreciate the thought. Thank you, Nahida."

Afiyah and Nahida let themselves laugh, making Aqilah smile herself. They spent the rest of the afternoon honing their skills to use Zaleos' powers.

(That evening)

After a long day of training and learning, the twin sisters returned to their home. Entering the house, they immediately saw their father reading a book in the living room. Aqilah quickly looked away.

"We're back!" Afiyah chirped.

"Welcome back. I've bought food from Lambad's Tavern for dinner, so you don't need to cook Afiyah," Alhaitham said.

"Really? Thank you, Father. Let's eat together, Aqilah!"

"No, thank you. I'm not hungry. I'm going to take a bath and head straight to bed. Today has been a long day."

Aqilah walked away straight to her room. Her behavior came off as rather cold and stone-hearted, it hurt Afiyah's feelings a bit. She heaved a sad sigh and headed to the kitchen for dinner, alone.

Alhaitham who noticed his younger daughter's behavior, followed her to the kitchen, where she was picking at her food. As her father, Alhaitham wanted to comfort Afiyah. But unfortunately, he didn't know how.

"Afiyah, can you come here for a moment? There's something I want to talk to you about," he called.

"Ah, what is it Father?"

Alhaitham could hear the sad and languid tone of his younger daughter, it somehow made his heart ache. Suddenly and unexpectedly, he pulled Afiyah into a hug.

"F–Father...? What... is the meaning of this?"

Alhaitham stayed silent, until Afiyah has completely melted into his embrace. At the very least, this was the love he could give his daughter, who still wanted to connect with him.

Publication date: January 1st 2023

[Author's Note]: Eyyy, Happy New Year everyone! The long-awaited first chapter of this series is finally finished and just consider this as my (very late) Christmas gift for all the amazing support I've gotten over the past year. Thank you~♡

Let's hope that this year will be better than the last year :)

Taglist: @sunsethw4 @elernity @haiiiiiiiyaaaa @qaiserarchive

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

Talk to us more about miatas. The sillies

There's so much I could say about it, but I feel like a nice thing to do is to start from Miataland, the wonderful place I alluded to in my kei car post (you really ought to read that section before this post) - or more specifically its collection, for despite being some half-hundred Miatas, it's not monotonous at all.

While sure, there is some bit of "this one's a different color!" going on (which I definitely can't say I understand, but being a collector often comes with being a completionist), the bulk of the collection is extremely varied - not least because the above is just the first of the four generation the Miata has been sold for.

Well, more accurately the MX-5, since that's the only official name that lasted all throughout, with the American "Mazda Miata" being ditched by the third generation in favor of MX-5 and the Japanese "Eunos Roadster" name turning to "Mazda Roadster" with the second generation since the Eunos brand got nixed. And every generation, known by the two-letter codes that represent the model in their chassis number (VIN for yankees) that span from NA to ND, has further changes within it!

The NB, seen left in the beautiful 10th Anniversary Edition, received interior and exterior updates in 2001, seen right in the rare Mazdaspeed Turbo edition, one of the extremely few factory turbo Miatas (leave it to Mazda to turbocharge a sportscar engine and manage to gain only 26hp out of it) - and, being more of a huge update of the NA than a new car, it retained the two engines, the 1.8L that many have because they say it's the better engine and the 1.6L that many say is the better engine because it's the one they have (though updating the 1.8 with Variable Valve Timing for, in other markets, more power, and, in the US, less more power).

The NC did it one better - not only did it get an exterior refresh and two engines -1.5 and 2.0- but it even had different tops, with an optional "PRHT" electric metal top that further cemented its reputation as a big fat boat of a Miata, for its outrageous increase in size (two inches all around) and weight (up to 90kg or 200lb). No, seriously. This generation is actually extremely overlooked, so much so that Andrea, the owner of this whole shebang, only has two (which I do appreciate is quite an insane sentence). But that means you can scoop one up for not that much, and I do recommend it!

The ND, instead, is quite the enthusiast's darling - how many cars these days get smaller and lighter with a newer generation? How many cars out there are no bigger nor heavier now than thirty years ago? Oh and also just look at it. Once again, a refresh (i.e. "The lights are 'new', the mirror's bigger, and there's a software update! Please care :)") was just unveiled, and you can get them in 1.5 and 2.0 flavor and optionally with the "RF" hardtop on the left. Well, not those two you can't, because the one on the right is the only example of the 300-unit 30th Anniversary Edition in Italy, and if you think Mr. Miataland can't flex harder on the Corvette dads of America who insist theirs is super rare because of that specific year (that is no different from the others) with that specific combination of options (that is in no way special) with that (random) color they only made 503 (and yes there's many people like that), the other car in this picture is a 1-of-1 Miataland edition. I should clarify: he didn't just make up his own special edition; Mazda asked him to make up his own special edition for them to build for him to celebrate his collection. Which, I want to stress, Andrea is not at all vain about. And props to him because if that happened to me I cannot fathom being humble about it.

Hell I am not humble about having sat in this M2 (IT'S INCREDIBLE!!!! IT FEELS NEW IT SMELLS NEW), imagine owning one PAIR.

Which also makes an important point: the Miata is probably one of the cars they made the most special editions of. I mean, G-limited, R-Limited, S-Special, S-Limited, RS-Limited, SR-Limited, VR-Limited A, VR-Limited B, Tokyo Limited, V-Spec II, 93LE, BBR Turbos and of course the M2 1001, 1002 and 1028. And want a kicker? Have three: those are just the first generation ones, and just the ones he owns because there's some he's missing, and they're not even all the special first generation Miatas he has - because we've not even gotten to modifications.

From fiddling with the engine as per the supercharged one in the foreground or outright replacing it as per the 5.0L V8 (!) one in the background...

...to completely altering its shape by way of changing bumpers and lights, as per this Pitcrew kit-adorned example...

...to just fucking making it an extremely bad Ferrari 250 GTO... replica? It's so far off I can't even tell if it's sincerely trying.

And such modifications are genuinely innumerable. I could hit the image limit just with full-transformation body kits for the first generation Miata, let alone all the weird bumpers, side skirts, spoilers, mirrors et al across all of them!

And that's the thing about the Miata - it can go in so many directions and will take it just fine. That's what they mean when they say Miata Is Always The Answer (M.I.A.T.A.): classy old roadster cruiser?

Miata! Get the Nakamae quilted interior bits and any of the plethora of chrome accessories and you're good to go! Barebones weapon?

Miata! The existence of CarbonMiata alone is proof enough that you'll have no problem sourcing weight reduction bits. Serious track car?

Miata! Even a stock one will be competent in autocross (oh right, we're trying to be accessible: "What If We Pretended This Parking Lot Was A Racetrack? We Have Cones!") and you're going to spend six digits before you run out of possible upgrades. Silly track car?

Miata! The thing is so small and light that you can just upgrade it with stock components from bigger cars, and they made a million of 'em (not hyperbole) so even if the bit you're looking for isn't one of the plenty used in many other cheap cars it will still be in plentiful supply. Drift car?

Miata! Obviously you can get drift modifications for it, it's one of the cheapest rear wheel drive sportscars out there. You can use a stock one or go as hard as you want, DestroyOrDie makes front suspension components that allow for more angle and of course every suspension you could want is available. Rally car?

Miata! This is an actual 90s picture, they even used a couple for ice racing! Rock climber?

Miata! Paco Motorsport makes a lift kit for them and the owner of the one in picture, Jimmy Has No Garage, also sells a kit they codeveloped with Godspeed Project, and that's just to talk about off-the-shelf solutions! Four seater?

Okay, maybe that's a bit of a stretch. Pun intended.

And again, please note: all these are just the first generation.

The Miata really is an insanely versatile car that was so beloved all over the world all through the years that from the most outlandish to the most minute every part of it has been taken in every imaginable direction, most often by people who dedicated their lives to it. The enthusiastic curiosity it oozes has thoroughly proven contagious.

And throughout the years it remains determined to get to experience more adventures! You find a ton of them that racked up hundreds of thousands of miles with nothing but a happy owner to show for them. Road and Track notably bought one with some 350k miles and were, shall we say, impressed.

(How's that car going now? Who knows, they put it up for sale after eight years and a car chase) Like I like to say of many old Japanese cars, it'll keep going until it dissolves. Its only real problem is it's very prone to dissolving, so look out for rust.

And now, since today is Halloween, y'all have a chance to scare me for good: I have a list of modifications I would do to a Miata were I to own one. (And have lots of money. (And lots of time. (And a clue how to turn a wrench. (And probably other requirements I am forgetting about.)))) It is an extremely, extremely long list. Like, over a hundred items long. WAY too long for one post. Probably too long for a chain of ten. Where was I going with this? Huh, I must have been thinking out loud again. Anyhow, here's a poll. It boosts engagement!

Links in blue are posts of mine about the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

[vacantgodling]

#2: Sandra "San" Dearborn

The second child you were never seen—always passed over in favor of your elder sister, forever favored. Everything you did was met with scrutiny, with scorn, with indifference, and even if you fought harder, your results were more abysmal. Even after she left home, that was perhaps when your parents lost interest altogether, in this failure of a child who could not carry their expectations. A bitterness like acid coats your tongue when you tell your parents that you’re going; a bitterness created by the way they don’t meet your eyes. You know they don’t want you here, never have, yet you can’t help but hope if you make something of yourself they will. It’s a fool’s errand, but your grief is the only thing that’s ever comforted you. Even if you have to fight for it and kill for it, you will gain their respect. At least, that’s what you tell yourself you’ll do.

“sandra” means defender of man and her nickname “san” means three. “dearborn” can either mean brook of dear or be a combination name of an expected or desired birth.

24, nb demigirl (they/she), romance: no, sex: yes (but she’d have to warm up to you and that would take a LOOOOONG time so gl with that), preference: none

she’s of short stature at 5’2” with a lean and agile build (her abs are visible). she also has varying scars across her body of varying lengths from the battles she’s gotten into since she was young. her eyes are a piercing hot pink that matches her bright magenta hair, and her hair is closer to the second ref; loc'd and falling over one of her eyes with the sides shaved. she usually sports a frown.

HUNTER, though not a dark hunter much to her dismay. unfortunately (for them), they have no prowess for absorbing and using cava, and was quickly taken out of those trails as a child. based on this, the fact that she also isn’t as naturally gifted as their elder sister moira has caused san a LOT of grief. she is a hard worker, but she’s fueled mostly by her rage, which causes her to be occasionally reckless if they get angry enough. you could easily taunt her, if she was a pokemon. as many hunters do, she wields a whip—the one she uses specifically is a standard bull whip, but it is of a shorter length than the average whip so that she can dual wield with her sword alongside it. as many hunters, she does not wear much by way of armor; it’s made of hearty leather and features parts and spoils of hunts. san’s most notable hunt is regaled by the way of her shoulder armor, which is the fur from the first large monster she slayed. while this also makes hunters appear more menacing, by wearing the spoils of another monster, it can distract monsters from your presence by masking your terranean scent: usually the more spoils one wears, the more undetectable you are to potential predators.

san is a bad tempered person, but that’s more of a creation by her neglected upbringing than a state she enjoys being in. they are tough as nails, and will push themselves beyond their breaking points again and again to try and prove themselves worthy of praise, note and accolades, but unfortunately, they are seen as just average by their comrades and family back home in eros; even somewhat of a disappointment because they aren’t notable compared to other hunters; like her sister, let alone the brightendale dark hunter who disappeared who was always (in san’s mind) their greatest rival. when she meets him in the flesh though…. he’s much different than she was expecting much to her fury.

despite her anger, san is blunt and has a hard time expressing any emotions that aren’t negative. she closes herself off to the world and to herself, but it’s mostly because of her loneliness and jealousy that makes it hard for her to form bonds. she’ll learn, but oh the growing pains are ROUGH for her.

3 fun facts about them: like their hair, their favorite color is pink and off duty they can usually be found wearing pink and black clothes. whenever she gets flustered she clams up and can’t speak for at least 20 minutes to an hour after the incident depending on how embarrassed she was. they have a habit of standing on objects (tables, chairs, etc) because they hate feeling short and if you point it out they’ll probably punch you.

[supergoodfilmanalysis]

La Planète Sauvage (1973) Race in the Imaginary

René Laloux’s La Planète Sauvage (1973), an experimental animated science fiction art film, is as strange as it is dense with implications. The politically charged dissonance of psychedelia combined with the film’s Dali-esque surreal cutout stop-motion animation universe, realized by French avant-garde artist Roland Topor, has solidified this film as a seminal work of animation and a cult science fiction feature. The film is set in the hallucinatory landscape of the planet Ygam, where gargantuan blue humanoid creatures called Draags who rule the planet enslave humans (called Oms–a play on the French homme)--Terr, an Om who has been kept as a pet since Traag children killed his mother in his infancy escapes from his child captor and bands together with a band of radical escaped Oms to resist the Draag regime and impending genocide. The film is markedly allegorical for its use of imagined alienness to establish otherness and marginalization, and the techniques the Draag use to subordinate the Oms evoke historically significant racist discriminatory practices. Simply, it feels like a movie that is bluntly about something beyond what it appears to be, and the slight heavy-handedness of its messaging reifies its goal of engaging in racial discourse.

The racial politics of Fantastic Planet are strange in that the broadness of the trenchant sociopolitical commentary imminent in the dynamic between oppressor and oppressed has led critics to draw comparisons between the plot and the narrative around “animal rights” and the (mis)treatment of domesticated animals, yet the human-ness stitched into the film’s fabric positions it as a text specifically interested in the ways humans create divisions among themselves. The Draags and the Oms, despite their vast difference in physical size, do resemble one another and take on different forms of the corporality of a human being, and for this reason and many others, Fantastic Planet seems to be a film about how we could recognize ourselves in one another and still splinter into factions and enforce senseless violent domination.

Terr’s captor, a girl named Tiwa, has given him a collar to control him as he attends “school” with her, which involves her wearing a headset that transmits facts into her brain, and a defect in his collar inadvertently allows him to learn the same knowledge as Terr, knowledge he ends up using to save the Oms. Intelligence is the gateway to capital in Ygam and the Draags are highly intellectualized beings who pride themselves on their inborn wisdom and biological superiority that allows them to far outdo the meager Oms in their knowledge–the film comments on the complications of the racialized bioessentialist understanding of knowledge that would posit that being smart, and subsequently having value, is a fixed innate biological trait. The Oms navigate the world through cunning, outwitting the Draags practically in ways they might fail to do so intellectually and the Draags and Oms counter one another in the film on what “counts” as knowledge: the Draags favor transcendental meditative practices that imbue them with highly complex perspicuity, whereas the Oms argue that their knowledge is more useful for the ways it enables them to survive despite their circumstances. The Oms are made alien not only through their physical inferiority but also because they exist in a society that was not built for them. Fantastic Planet depicts an idea of home that is stringent upon exclusivity and requires technical superiority to belong; shoring up racial politics, Fantastic Planet deploys a social constructionist standpoint that colors these divisions as the products of structural forces benefitting only those who erected them.

[thenamesblurrito]

here's some Aventuri mecha! they also happen to be the first TFOCs i ever made but this is my favorite iteration of them. only time i've ever managed to give them a design i like. Mantis, Quetzal, and Seraph are a sibling trine from Jubilee, capital of Divinex, menial laborers under jurisdiction of the High Court. each of them have calcite inclusions (that's the patterning on their armor there), which is a less common but mundane mineral. they're on the petite side for Aventuri frames, so you aren't going to see mecha much thinner, lighter, or more delicate than this

Mantis is a loadbearer, which in Divinex means she's consigned to a form of state-run indentured servitude. since her sister is a cityspeaker, Mantis often works with her as a member of the construction and repair teams in Triumpha's underbelly. she has no other outlier power (beyond typical Aventuri extremophilia), but her surprising strength and durability are formidable enough. despite this, she is very meek, often simply trying to make herself small and unnoticed, deferring to others, remaining quiet and speaking only when spoken to. in a self-fulfilling mixture of nature and nurture, Divinexi culture has successfully convinced her that since she enjoys manual labor well enough and isn't confrontational at spark to speak out against anyone bossing her around or snubbing her for being a loadbearer, she clearly must be suited for and destined to never rise above this station, a civil servant to the end. she tries not to dwell on the grim daydreams of stealing someone's corpse and identity and running away to be someone else, a bloody, wistful fantasy for many loadbearers

Quetzal doesn't have a special sparktype or notably rare abilities. her outlier power is hard-light projections, from illusions to forcefields to flashbangs. her bright colors and brighter powers fit her personality very well, as she is the cheeriest and most optimistic of her sisters, more outgoing than the other two combined. but she's tired. more often than she'd like to admit, her smile is forced and her upbeat tone is false. it's hard not to be worn down when she, as the "normal" one in her trine, is responsible for negotiating her family's indenturement. the contract of civil servanthood for Mantis and Seraph could be overseen by someone else, but Quetzal stepped in to be their handler instead in the hopes that she could at least stick up for the two of them in a demanding society. her own job is as a personnel coordinator for many repair and maintenance teams beneath Jubilee, fitting for a people person like her, but trying to make sure everyone is treated well without favoring her own siblings unfairly is an emotional drain that is slowly killing her cheer

Seraph is a cityspeaker, and a damn good one too. she hid her aptitude for awhile, pretending that the hard-light projection outlier power she shares with Quetzal was her only ability, but it didn't last. now she uses that hard-light to display maps and diagrams of Triumpha's internals directly to repair crews, highlighting the areas the Titan feels worst and projecting maintenance plans for everyone to follow along. unlike her sisters, she is not resigned to her lot, but isn't rebellious about it. she is sullen, quiet, and bitter, preferring the company of half-lucid Triumpha to any others, sometimes even her family. she's hardly about to start a revolution, and doesn't even complain to her Titan or her fellow cityspeakers, but everyone definitely feels her cold shoulder on a good day, and heated, biting sarcasm on a bad one. her life will get better. her life will get better, not out of dutiful obedience like Mantis or strained optimism like Quetzal, but out of stubborn spite

here's sort of a rough example of their alt mode. they can transform their raptorial wing-arms to rotors in root mode, not unlike ES Twitch

[rarepairronpa]

saw the childhood friends ask and lemme sprinkle in a thought bc i'm insane; yasuke and mikan being siblings (these two are not ship obvi for this) and yasuke introducing mikan to ryouko/junko i need you to HEAR ME OUT

The best way to make this idea work, I think, is to have Mikan be a adopted sibling. In a scenario where child protective services removed Mikan from her previously abusive home, only for her to get adopted by mama Matsuda. That way you keep her canon abuse backstory, but give her a lot better life as she recovers from it from a young age. Maybe mama Matsuda is who noticed the abuse in the first place and called CPS on them. (Is CPS still called CPS in Japan? You'd have to research that if anyone wants to write about this.) As time goes on and mama Matsuda loses more of her memory, tiny Yasuke and tiny Mikan would get more and more into medicine together, encouraged by Ryouko/Junko. Mikan already has a base from tending to her own wounds, which maybe Yasuke admires. When mama Matsuda passes, maybe there's a rift between them - with tiny Yasuke resenting her for not fixing her either. I would like to think that rift heals in time, since it's clear Mikan wanted to. But I could also see them becoming estranged from each other, which would be really sad. And probably increase their dependency on Junko.

And oh gosh, Junko. That would be weird, wouldn't it? She'd have a crush on two siblings, which is always awkward. (I can't really talk about that, as I loved both Saeyoung and Saeran from Mystic Messenger despite them being twins...) People have made poly situations work where one person dates both siblings, but. Still awkward, right? (Especially for twins, actually.)

Though it's also possible that Mikan, instead of latching onto Junko who she views as Yasuke's friend, would actually latch onto Mukuro if she's there. Which. Could definitely be interesting, right? Mukuro would probably get into fights defending her, to which Mikan would patch her up. Very cute stuff.

The other way to have Yasuke & Mikan siblings while keeping Mikan's canon backstory (mostly) intact, is to have papa Matsuda be abusive, but that's a really sad idea to me. It takes an already bad situation and makes it much, much worse. He could definitely weaponize mama Matsuda's dementia as an abuse tactic - both with gaslighting her, and using it against the kids. In such a scenario, I'd say that Yasuke is the favored one, and Mikan is the scapegoat. And not because of their merits, but probably... I'm going to say papa Matsuda buys into misogyny, and so just naturally treats Mikan worse. I'm going to say in such a situation that Yasuke inherited his father's hair color and Mikan inherited her mother's hair color, which feeds into the abuse - Mikan is weak like her mother and Yasuke is an extention of papa Matsuda in papa Matsuda's mind. That would turn an already miserable childhood for both into something even worse, I think. Essentially combining both of their backstories. In such a scenario, they'd both really latch onto Junko (and maybe Mukuro) even more. And their relationship with each other would be "complicated" even before mama Matsuda dies, given the family dynamics. They only have each other (and later on Junko and maybe Mukuro) but they're also pitted against each other. I could see it turn out similarly to my Kokichi & Mikan sibling AU, at least at first. The dynamic would be different in the nuances, but Mikan would definitely be jealous and maybe even lash out, leading to Yasuke doing the same.

Junko may even encourage that rivalry, because it isolates both of them and makes them more dependant on her. I also think in a situation where they were raised together from the start like this, the likelihood of Mikan attaching to Mukuro instead of Junko goes way down. The possible catalyst for that happening in the adopted scenario is a situation where Yasuke and Junko are already friends, so Mikan would feel left out just like Mukuro feels. In this scenario, I'm assuming they meet Junko and maybe Mukuro at the same time.

Actually. They're the same age, aren't they? Their birthdays are assumedly different in canon, but it would make me wonder if maybe they'd be twins in this scenario. I don't think Yasuke has a canon age, too, so you can kind of have it be whenever you want. So, like. You know. You could have it be the same as Mikan's for the sake of the AU. That could be interesting, to see two sets of twins be childhood friends.

It could definitely be interesting, especially if it gets messy with Junkan and Matsushima in the mix. Mikan would be like, oh, great. It wasn't enough to take our fathers love from me, now you want Junko too?! Could definitely get very complicated.

[or13m]

A Reprieve (Undertale) Chapter 005

Someone had definitely told Ash about what had happened last night…

The gentle giant had his arms locked tight around you, nuzzling his skull against your cheek. The two of you were sitting in your usual spot on the couch, the morning light sifting in through the blinds to give the living room a golden glow. Embarrassment colored your cheeks even as you pushed your face further into the front of his sleep shirt to avoid the amused grins of those awake and watching their cousin coddle the human like a favored pet. Even the two cats—Chicken and Doomfanger—seemed to snicker at your predicament.

“damn, ash, feline frisky this morning?” Red’s deep voice teased, filling the comfortable silence of the house. A combination of chuckles and groans followed his words, but no one spoke up to chastise him for the pun. Even your own sibling had let slip a few giggles.

The traitor.

“…just helping…” he replied, burying his nasal ridge into your hair. You could feel the thrum of his soul through his ribcage, lulling your frazzled mind into calmer waters. You were still suffering the effects of nearly losing control the night before. Every inch of your mind felt like shattered glass that you were desperately trying to gather up and put back together. Despite your late-night talk with Sans—or because of it—your imagination was running wild with the potential repercussions of revealing a darker side of yourself. One that even had your own family shunning you...

Outwardly, you tried your best to keep up the facade of indifference…but you were easy to read, like a book. Everyone could see how spacey and timid you were. Ash just happened to be the one with the quickest reflexes. The second he'd spotted you, he had swept you up in his arms and carried you off to your little corner of the couch, complete with coffee and the fuzziest blanket he could find.

That had been three hours ago.

“just admit it, red,” Sans piped up from his armchair, legs draped across one side with his back propped up against the other. “you just want to kitten on the fun.” His signature grin was still there, but his eye lights were hidden beneath boney lids. You were honestly surprised that he was even awake. Sans’s reputation for being the laziest of the household had not escaped your notice. Over the past week, you had taken note of how he’d been in your presence more than the first week. Ash was almost always by your side—whether it was in the garden, with your lessons, or just hanging out. The others trickled in here and there, still devoting a good chunk of time around you considering how many hours in the day there were and your lack of a job. Still, no one could come close to your emotional support skeleton.

Sans was catching up, though. It seemed like you couldn’t go anywhere without him just poofing into existence, ready with a bad joke and a toothy grin, the dark circles beneath his sockets growing ever more prominent.

Your concern for him also grew by the day. Even though it was difficult to see through his carefully constructed happy persona, you could tell that he was...tense.

“ah, you paw thing,” Red completely disregarded Sans’s comment. You peeked out from beneath Ash’s skull, good eye catching twin crimson lights. His sharp grin widened when he noticed your gaze. “i can pet ya if ya want, sweetcheeks?”

You rolled your eye and looked away; cheeks puffed out in a pout much to the delight of Ash who proceeded to coo over it. You were incredibly tempted to use one of those signs Red, himself, had taught you to tell the shameless flirt off, but Nox chose that moment to come storming into the living room. Your exchanges with the coffee-loving ladder-hating skeleton had been tame so far, but even you weren’t foolish enough to say foul words around the guy.

“ARE YOU ALL SERIOUSLY GOING TO JUST LAZE AROUND ALL DAY?” were the first words out of that sharp mouth of his. His brother, Rus, flinched at the tone, but went right back to playing with s/n’s hair. It had not escaped your notice how cozy the anxious pile of bones had gotten with your younger sibling. Much like you and Ash, Rus and s/n had formed a rather affectionate bond themselves. The small movement you made when you eyed your sibling’s relaxed form was enough to draw Nox’s attention. His purple eye lights fixed on you in an instant, a crease forming between his brows.

“you doing okay there, nox?” Sans piped up, one of his sockets now open and peering straight at his unusually silent cousin. Nox let his gaze flick to the lazier skeleton, eyes narrowing at the tension you could feel permeating the air. Unlike you, however, he merely scoffed and brushed it off before crossing the living room to where you sat in Ash’s lap, confidence in every step.

“I NEED YOU TO COME WITH ME TODAY, PET,” he “asked” in the best way he knew how—by demanding. A very miniscule lilac colored his cheekbones, but he didn’t let his eye lights drift away from your face. “I WILL EVEN TREAT YOU TO SOME COFFEE FROM A LOCAL SHOP.” As those words left his mouth, a smug smirk pulled at his lips. It didn’t help that you’d perked up at the mention of coffee. The two of you shared that in common, though you preferred sweet over black.

“I SHALL ACCOMPANY YOU TO YOUR HOUSE SO YOU CAN GET DRESSED PROPERLY,” he spoke again without waiting for an answer, holding out a hand for you to take.

As warm and comfortable as you were in Ash’s lap, you could not deny that getting up and moving around was appealing. The offer of coffee was just the cherry on top. While venturing back out into public—which you assumed was his objective today—was overwhelming in and of itself, Nox had proved last night that he had the strength to hold you back if necessary.

“you should go,” Ash breathed over your head. You shuddered at the feeling of his finger bones brushing over the sensitive skin of your neck as he ran them through your hair one final time before releasing you. “nox will make sure you’re safe.”

“hey, that really a good idea?” Red grunted, red eye lights shifting from Nox to you and back again. S/n was looking equally as worried from their spot between Rus and a snoozing Stretch. Inside, your thoughts mirrored theirs, but you also knew that it was impossible to continue this isolation for the rest of your life. You would have to venture out into the public eventually. Groceries, clothes, getting a job, and just life in general were all unavoidable consequences of existing in society. You HAD to reintegrate into it. The bar mishap may have fried your nerves and stirred up some unpleasant thoughts, but it had also forcibly reminded you that you had to start mending your mental state sooner rather than later. Allowing it to deteriorate further was not an option.

“chillax, will ya?” Sans calmed the edgy skeleton, sinking further into the well-worn cushions of his chair. You watched as his fuzzy eye light peered at you from beneath a cracked eye lid. “it’s not like she’s going alone. and she’s a big girl. she doesn’t need our purrmission.” His bony lips stretched wider at the overused cat pun. You gave a silent snort at his odd sense of humor, bringing your free hand up to conceal your mirth. Unfortunately for you, Nox was a perceptive individual and gave a long-winded sigh at the pun.

“YOU NEED TIME AWAY FROM THESE LAZY BAGS OF BONES BEFORE THEIR PATHETIC SELVES DAMAGE YOU BEYOND REPAIR,” Nox declared while dragging you out the front door, his toothy grin poorly hidden.

After a quick clothing change—with Nox waiting in your living room—you soon found yourself on the back of his sleek, ebony motorcycle, your arms latched tightly around his middle. You were so used to Ash’s wider ribcage and plush body—apparently, they had ectoplasmic parts that couldn’t be seen unless they output enough magic—that Nox’s sculpted muscles took you by surprise. You should have expected it. The guy worked out rigorously every morning. From what you’ve heard, him and the other more energetic of the skeleton household held some ridiculous training regimens.

“HANG ON, PET,” Nox warned over his shoulder before flipping his visor down and revving the bike. You heeded his words and tightened your grip on him as the engine roared to life and rocketed forward. With your heart in your throat, you thanked your lucky stars that your chauffer had foresight to give you your own helmet. The face shield helped steer the stinging winds away from the wound on your left eye. Your hair, too, was kept in place by the tough plastic secured around your skull, preventing it from whipping into your bare skin like hundreds of tiny needles.

The neighborhood you and the skeletons lived in wasn’t too terribly far from downtown. By car, it was just a five-minute drive, pending weather and traffic. Fifteen minutes by a manual bicycle and a whopping 50 minutes to an hour of walking.

You knew this...because of reasons...

The rumbling beneath you sputtered to a stop, snapping you out of your thoughts. You lifted your face from Nox’s back to get a good look at the little shop the two of you had parked in front of. There were a few pedestrians walking the sidewalks, but you paid them little mind as the storefront had stolen your attention.

“Moppet’s Fabric and Tailor Shoppe” was written in beautiful cursive lettering above the door. A buttercream yellow against a rich plum background, outlined in white. The two huge windows standing guard on either side of the glass door sported delicate white lace curtains with a variety of wares against a purple backdrop. Your sighted eye roamed over what you could see from this distance across the expanse of concrete. A pretty dress displayed on a headless mannequin, several leather journals neatly stacked in a corner with a few of them propped up to show exquisite designs on the front, and many more little knickknacks and fabrics that you couldn’t quite make out without getting closer.

Your eye kept drifting over to the journals...

“CAN’T GO INSIDE IF YOU DON’T LET GO, PET,” Nox’s smooth baritone voice purred in your ear. Your cheeks flushed hotly when you snapped your focus back to him, realizing that you had yet to release him. Your hands were resting on his hips, having drifted down as you eyed the interesting boutique. They were in a loose enough grip that he could easily break it if he wanted to. He snickered when you practically leapt off the bike to separate yourself from both him and the embarrassment at being called out. Unable to stop the pout and puffed cheeks, you unfastened and slid the helmet off your head before handing it to him. You did your best to comb your hair back into place from the brief ride, hoping that you were somewhat-presentable to the public eye now that you were in its view.

“YOU’RE SO HELPLESS.” Nox was suddenly by your side, one hand catching yours while the other reached up to take over smoothing out your helmet-mussed strands. “IF I WEREN’T AROUND, YOU’D BE GLUED TO THAT COUCH ALL DAY,” he continued to complain, though his voice held no bite to it. His eye lights focused on what he was doing to fix the stray hairs, the fabric of his dark gloves brushing against your left cheek. You could feel the sharp claws on the tips of his fingers even through the cloth as he hooked the hair that usually fell over your damaged eye behind your ear. Like a switch had flipped, you felt your muscles tense and your hands itch to cover the left side of your face. Seemingly prepared for your reaction, Nox held fast to your hand and prevented the other from ruining his “work” by cradling your chin and lifting your face to his.

“Perfect. Let’s Go Inside,” the now-smirking skeleton hummed before withdrawing his hands and offering his arm like a gentleman would to his lady. After a moment of hesitation, you slipped your arm through his only to stumble into his side when he tugged you closer. Snickering at your reproachful glare, Nox led you into the little shop.

The bell above the door chimed when the two of you entered. A blast of warm, cinnamon-scented air greeted you, strongly reminiscent of baked treats. Inside the building, you spotted more of the wares you’d seen in the windows, just multiplied by a few dozen. The skeleton holding you captive by the arm, however, didn’t leave you any room to browse as he made a beeline for the desk near the back of the store. Nox tapped the little silver bell sitting on its surface, sending off a gentle clink into the still air while you took the chance to survey your surroundings.

No one else was in the store—something that you found a bit strange, but it was about ten in the morning on a weekday, so most adults were at work while the kids would be in school. Shelves lined the walls with inventory crowding their surfaces. Everything from journals and pens to satchels and gloves, each of them unique and, no doubt, handmade. A variety of clothes hung from garment racks: corsets, dresses, ripped pants, and a few hoodies. Every piece in this little specialty shop appeared to be made of high-quality materials and with careful expertise.

The desk you and Nox were waiting at was actually a very long counter that spanned the entire back wall of the store. More shelves—much deeper ones—took up the entire wall behind it. Every color and type of fabric were stuffed into the little square holes, a ladder blocking the full view of some as it was needed to reach those near the ceiling. The only spot not covered with wares was the door situated behind the spot where the little silver bell was. It was cracked open just enough for you to catch the words of someone behind it asking for you to “hold on a moment, pumpkin”, but not enough for you to see anything.

Your gaze dropped down to the warm cherry wood of the counter, just in time to see a fuzzy little spider stop right in front of you. Your eye widened a bit at the sight, completely missing Nox’s amused stare as he watched you. The spider—at least, you think it was a spider—had the usual eight legs, head, body, and was all black...but it was fuzzier than the arachnids you were used to seeing crawling about. You were familiar with those in your garden—you let them be since it was outside—but this one reminded you strongly of a smaller version of those soot creatures from one of your favorite movies. Unable to help yourself, you carefully set your fingers onto the countertop, bringing your hand up from below so as to not spook the little guy (or girl). You let your fingertip hover in front of them, unwilling to “pet” something that may take offense to it but too curious to avoid interaction of some sort. It reached out with two of its front legs, gripped the skin of your pointer finger, and, with surprising strength for such a tiny being, shook your hand. It quickly retracted before you could so much as blink.

You smiled, watching as the little fuzzball scurried off and vanished.

“YOU ARE QUITE AN INTERESTING HUMAN,” Nox spoke with an amused grin, sockets crinkled with mirth.

“Oh-ho? And who has caught the infamous captain’s fancy?” an unfamiliar voice cut in before he could say anything further to fluster you.

Glancing up, you nearly jumped out of your skin as someone was suddenly right there behind the desk mere inches from your face. How had they gotten so close so quietly?! The fact that they were a monster did not elude you, but you were more intrigued with how they looked like some type of spider. She—you assumed by the voice and her delicate features, but you had no way of asking for her pronouns—had six arms sprouting from her torso and two legs, though the latter were hidden behind the counter. Her skin was a dusty periwinkle while her five eyes were pitch-black. Two of her eyes—almond-shaped and large—were in the same spots as a human’s would be, but the other three were spanned in “slits” across her forehead, smaller so as to fit. Her clothes were of similar style to the store inventory. A long-sleeved (multiple sleeves for her many arms) dark-red hoodie that got steadily more black the further it got to the bottom paired nicely with the sleeveless black tunic shirt that reached her mid-thigh. You couldn’t see her pants from this position—you were too short and the desk was too tall—but you’d have to assume it was equally as eye-pleasing as the patterned red, yellow, and black beanie sitting atop her head. The straight, black hair spilling from beneath the hat hung all the way down to her hips in a loose, carefree sort of way.

“AND A GOOD DAY TO YOU, TOO, MOPPET,” Nox growled, frown back in place. “I BELIEVE YOU HAVE THE ITEM I REQUESTED?”

You glanced between the two, wondering why your skeletal companion had switched from friendly and teasing to cold and haughty. Did these two not get along? They clearly knew each other, judging by how she had called him “captain”. Unless that was some monster custom you weren’t unaware of, referring to someone as such wasn’t a normal form of greeting.

Did they have multiple captains in the Underground? You couldn’t remember…

“Yep!” the spider lady chirped, seemingly unperturbed by your friend’s abrupt attitude change. “This the lucky one who gets to wear it? They're a cutie.” She grinned at you, showing off a mouthful of dagger-sharp teeth that you didn’t so much as flinch at. Having spent so many days around a household that had half its occupants with near-identical grins, you were pretty immune to it.

“I like her.”

THAT had your attention fully caught. You cocked your head at her, curious as to what you could possibly have done to have earned such a statement. Her smile went from wide and threatening to soft and genuine.

“GLAD YOU APPROVE,” Nox’s voice was full of sarcasm but you could hear that underlying hint of truth in it.

Approve of what?

“Why?” you signed at him when he took a small package from Moppet’s hand. To your surprise, it wasn’t him who answered.

“Because you. Are. Cute.” Moppet stressed each word in a highly-amused tone of voice as if that would answer your question. A chuckle left her at your stare of befuddlement. “Most monsters can understand sign, pumpkin. Our ambassador uses it a lot,” she explained, winking three of her five eyes.

“IF YOU ARE DONE WITH YOUR TEASING, WE WILL TAKE OUR LEAVE,” the skeleton still holding onto your arm stated so stiffly that it was a wonder he hadn’t turned into wood yet.

“I see you still have that stick up your butt,” Moppet was quick to retort with a lazy smile.

Yeah…their personalities were complete opposites of one another. Sprinkle in a heavy dose of anxiety and Moppet could be the female version of Rus.

“HAVE A GOOD DAY, MISS MOPPET,” Nox bit out between clenched teeth, pulling you away with him and towards the door. You waved a quick goodbye at the spider lady—now known as the very same “Moppet” that owned this store—who waved back.

“You’re welcome here any time, pumpkin!” she directed at you right before Nox dragged you through the door and back into the sun.

Expecting to be steered toward the motorbike parked in front of the store, you were pleasantly surprised when, instead, he guided you down the sidewalk. There were more people out and about now so you huddled closer into your friend’s side, your nerves on high alert. You were getting some stares, no doubt due to your uncovered eye, but no one kept their gaze on you for too long. You assumed the skeleton at your side had something to do with that, but, every time you glanced at him, he was just looking forward with a neutral expression on his face.

After a few silent moments of walking, the two of you entered a cute little café. Stepping inside, you were instantly overwhelmed by the smell of cookies and coffee. The familiar scents were already bringing your anxiety levels down despite the collection of humans and monsters occupying the booths and tables. You took a look around while Nox ordered, trusting that he already knew what you liked since it was usually him making your coffee in the mornings.

Purple seemed to be the main theme here. Everything from the curtains to the booths and even the floor tiles were various shades of the color. Creams and greys helped offset the otherwise overwhelming presence of that single pigment, but, overall, the effect was breathtaking. Someone certainly knew what they were doing when they designed this place. It reminded you strongly of the fabric shop you and Nox had just left. Moppet’s aesthetic was similar to—

“Oh! Good to see you again, dearie!” a voice interrupted your thoughts. Your good eye snapped back to the counter where the barista was working on your drinks. Standing off to the side and out of the way of the young man was another spider monster. This one’s skin tone was a rich lavender; easily seen with the puffy short-sleeved red romper she wore. Three sets of arms and a pair of legs—again, you didn’t have x-ray vision so you had to assume she was standing on something—denoted her arachnid origins. She wore a large magenta bow on her chest with two smaller bows holding half of her hair up in high pigtails, the remaining black strands hanging straight to her chin. Just like Moppet, she had five eyes—sclera, iris, and pupil all a deep shade of obsidian.

And all of them were focused on you.

“YES. IT IS GOOD TO SEE YOU, AS WELL, MISS MUFFET,” Nox greeted, using a warmer tone than what he had used with Moppet. He tightened his grip on the hand you had resting atop his arm, your other arm already rendered useless wrapped around his. He could feel the twitches in your muscles as they strained against his grip to reach up and hide or pick at your eye. “THIS IS OUR NEIGHBOR, Y/N,” he introduced, nodding his head over at you. “SHE’S THE ONE WHO’S BEEN HELPING ASH WITH HIS GARDEN.”

You glanced up at him, your itchy eye momentarily forgotten. Had they been talking about you to their friends? And all for just planting a few plants? That hardly seemed like a conversation starter…

“Ahuhuhu,” Muffet laughed, sounding eerily similar to the “afifififi” of Moppet’s own chuckles. “I see. Well, that was very kind of you, dearie.”

You ducked your head into Nox’s shoulder, cheeks hot with embarrassment. This action earned you further laughter and a head pat from the skeleton you were attempting to hide behind.

“Enjoy your drinks, dears,” the spider woman spoke in such a way that you could tell she was grinning widely. You let Nox lead you away from the counter after accepting your coffee, sliding into a booth in the far corner of the shop before finally relaxing.

“YOU NEARLY RIPPED A MAN’S THROAT OUT LAST NIGHT, BUT A COUPLE COMPLIMENTS MAKE YOU ALL SHY AND FLUSTERED?” Nox voiced his amusement not even a minute into leisure time as he sat next to you rather than across from you like you expected.

You frowned at him, red cheeks betraying your true feelings. It wasn’t like you could prevent the embarrassment you felt…nor could you stop the flashbacks from the night you and your sibling had gotten cornered.

Something being shoved into your hands pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you saw a small brown parcel now in your possession. You gave Nox a questioning look, not bothering to make a sign since he could read your expressions easily. What you weren’t expecting was the usually proud and proper skeleton to glance away with a lilac hue dusting his cheekbones.

“IT’S ABOUT TIME YOU HAD A PROPER ONE,” was all he said before taking a sip of his bitter coffee.

Instead of questioning him further, you unfolded the parchment paper from whatever gift Nox had commissioned Moppet for. Shiny black leather met your curious stare when you got to the treat inside the package—a triangular shaped patch with three white strings attached to each corner just large enough to cover your bad eye. Embossed into the surface was a simple design of a buttercup…

You looked up just as Nox plucked the eyepatch from your numb fingers. He was already removing the sticky white gauze from your face before you could sign a word.

“THE FLOWER WAS ASH’S IDEA,” he explained as he fastened the beautiful piece to your head, having to physically turn you so he could. “HE WANTED TO GET A GIFT FOR HIS ‘FLOWER BUDDY’.” You caught Nox air quoting the nickname just as you turned around, your cheeks red at their thoughtfulness. “And Your…Company…Has Been Rather…Nice These Past Few Weeks…” he mumbled into the palm of his hand while he hunched over the table, cheeks flushed with his magic in the equivalent of a blush.

“Thank you,” you signed, not knowing what else to say. You’d been having similar feelings for your neighbors. These past few weeks had been very pleasant and more healing than any therapy you could afford. It was something you had yet to figure out, but you couldn’t deny that they made you feel…wanted. Only time would tell where exactly you would fit into their lives or them in yours…or if it would ultimately just fade away…

The sore feeling in your chest--one that had yet to fade away from last night--pulsed with a sharp twinge of pain. Well, you had been meaning to ask a monster about this and what better time than now? Just as you were about to ask Nox, his phone pinged with a text alert…and then pinged a few more times with multiple messages.

“WHAT NOW?” he grumbled, smile shifting into a frown as he pulled out his mobile device. You must have left yours at home or at the guys’ place because you didn’t have yours on you. That wasn’t a rare occurrence since you didn’t have anyone to keep in touch with and any social media was non-existent since you had wiped out your digital footprint in an attempt to start fresh. “LOOKS LIKE WE WILL HAVE TO CUT THIS OUTING SHORT, PET,” Nox huffed, looking upset as he furiously typed a message in response to whoever had texted him. When he was done, he stuffed his phone back into his pocket, downed the remainder of his coffee, and got to his feet. You had practically inhaled your own by this point, thankful that he’d gotten a small cup for you, so you were quick to follow his lead.

“What happened?” you asked when you both made your way back to his motorbike.

“RUS SAYS THERE’S SOME KIND OF PROBLEM AT THE HOUSE AND HE WANTS ME TO DEAL WITH IT SINCE SANS DISAPPEARED,” he explained, taking you by the arm again when he caught sight of how many people were milling about now that it was growing closer to lunch time.

Sans…disappeared? That was odd.

The drive home was going to be a pain now that you were concerned about what exactly you were going to be walking into…