#edit: made these smaller in an attempt to make it look less bad but it didn't really work :)

[mattel]

Joey in Slipknot - Goat (Documentary)

[mistfallengw2]

2, 8 and 17 for Aurelia combat asks? (or anyone more appropriate)

@violentnornography

GW2 OC Questions: Combat Edition ⚔️✨

2 got answered here

-

8. Do they have any visible scarring or lasting injuries from previous combat experiences? How did they get them? How do they feel about them?

Her pre-Mists scars were few and barely evident, as her late mate always took great care of her wounds since they were cubs, to the point she kept treating any visible scar until fur could grow back on it. She wouldn't have minded sporting cool scars like most of the warband did, but Ardea considered any of those as her own failure to keep her bandmates safe, so Aurelia allowed her to do her thing at least on her.

Her revenant powers came with particularly strong self-healing abilities, to the point what was barely visible beforehand was completely cured and gone in a matter of minutes after receiving Glint's facet. With everything Aurelia went through in the Mists, that power lessened a bunch, but it still kept her free of scars (even bad wounds would scar within hours/days, and the subsequent scar would be gone within a week/month).

The only thing that can scar her permanently is strong magic that does enough damage to overcome her self-healing powers, like Balthazar's or the one Eir's longbow was enchanted with. The first left visible scarring on her chest after she was impaled by his sword (she survived due to the facet getting shattered and flooding her with magic, which kept her alive while the self-healing went into overdrive to attempt fixing that disaster, but his fire killed her first) and even being revived couldn't fully undo the damage, while Bangar's arrow kept burning from within (it was powerful enough to hurt the ice dragon, so her enchanted armor was no match, let alone her flesh) and it quickly depleted her magic as it tried to continuously undo and contain the damage, making the Scrying Pool necessary to save her. Aurelia doesn't particularly like to show those scars, but at least she's gotten less self-conscious about them over the years.

Though not a scar, she only has one of her horns left intact. One of the lower ones broke off when she was flung away by the explosion caused by Kralkatorrik's attack that killed Aurene, and she later had both filed down for comfort (later wears some accessories made by Adamas with Aurene's crystals), while the left upper one snapped in half during the airship crash in Cantha (missing half later replaced with Aurene's magic). While she's not happy about them being broken, she likes having something of Aurene with her at all times.

-

18. Can they handle themselves in a fight without using weapons? And without using magic? What would they do if they were in a fight and disarmed/unable to use magic?

Back before her Mists misadventures, when she didn't have any magic, Aurelia was not someone who'd ever back away from a fight. Being as strong and big (if not bigger) than most male charr is an advantage she never avoided using, often charging into enemies using just her armor's spikes as "weapons" and even occasionally picking up smaller foes to throw or hit others with, regardless of whether she was actually disarmed or not. Back then, drunken brawls were one of her favorite off-duty activities, and a norn friend of Daunte once claimed she was a bar brawler worthy of legends and that he was lucky to have always had her on his side.

That said, while those skills came in handy when her magic was unreliable for the first few years of having it, now she doesn't look for occasions to fight like that anymore. If she was in a real fight with no access to magic or weapons, she'd fight only if she had a reason to, otherwise she'd try to escape or deescalate.

[brightatmidnight]

Understanding the Art Behind Trailer Making

For this week's blog, we wanted to share some behind the scenes info on how Eos made our latest trailer so awesome and reflections on our past trailers as well! Enjoy!

Last week, we made a post showing off the new trailer for The Chaser’s Voyage and it’s a video I’m personally very proud of. To make it, I went back to the basics to learn more about video editing and, specifically, more about how to make good trailers.

First, let me go over some of the follies I think I made during our last trailers. I’m okay with admitting that they weren’t the best trailers, or even “good” game trailers, because I’m still learning this whole process. Trust me, when I started making this game with Cameron, I had no idea about all the things I’d have to learn and do for marketing purposes.

Do not be mistaken though, I am proud of those older trailers. I think editing and style wise they are pretty good. Our reveal trailer is pretty boring visually, but there are hints of something stylish buried beneath an understandably amateurish composition. Our steam trailer, I like to think, has a lot more flair with trailer unique animations and swooshing character introductions, but it was flair in the wrong direction. Seeing hypothetical people’s perspectives can be really rough. I’ve spent so much time with Edwin, Tai, Nila, and Wolfe, that I forget that most people don’t know how awesome they are. Still, this trailer came about after I redid our entire user interface, meaning my skills in GIMP were still burgeoning.

I really like this composition and still think the effects are really cool, but without anyone really knowing our characters, most people would tune this out.

Our early access trailer wasn’t actually meant to be our “big trailer.” It was meant to be a smaller trailer that used the flashier steam trailer as a supplement. You can actually tell though that some of the problems with our marketing strategy were starting to be addressed. Less emphasis on the characters nobody knows about and an attempt to better communicate the mechanics of the game. Still, more often than not, audiences did not seem to see what made our game unique and why it was fun. Your advertisements are often the first time people encounter your game, especially in the wild, so making a good first impression that catches people’s attention is absolutely essential.

As I detailed a couple months ago, for this new video, I went back to the basics and scoured the internet for resources to learn how to make a better game trailer. Luckily, professional game trailer editor Derek Lieu has many videos and articles all about the art form. There’s still so much more to learn and do, but for anyone who wants to learn how to make a trailer on their own, I couldn’t recommend Derek’s stuff more.

For our newest trailer, there’s a few key things I experimented with. The first was zooming in to block off the UI. Unlike many other games, our game is VERY UI dependent. How you interact with the UI is how you play the game, so turning it off completely was just not going to happen. For a long time, I was worried that zooming in so much to completely block off the UI would make the game look not as crisp and that might leave a bad impression, but after some tests, I found that it actually looked really great at 1080p. So with that fear assuaged, I used a lot of zoomed in footage to better get across the daring space adventurer vibe without worrying about the UI detracting at all from that. It also made the beginning of the trailer feel much more dynamic.

It’s worrying that this could give a false impression of how The Chaser’s Voyage is played, but what was more important was just hooking people’s attention.

I also learned how to do picture-in-picture in order to better highlight certain elements (and by that I mean the power management mechanics). This actually allowed me to still show off our characters a bit by connecting them to the primary mechanics. A little pip shows which system is going up, a banner says what action the player will get to do, and the character lets the audience associate the system with the character.

Sound mixing and balancing was also a big focus this time on the trailer. I made sure that every cut was on some sort of beat and that the music was properly balanced to emphasize the voices when they were talking, but to also emphasize the music when nobody was talking. Which is important because our music is still incredible. These are all things I learned from Derek’s videos and articles.

Lastly, it was just making sure we showed off everything we’ve done since the last trailer and this one. Showing off cutscenes, using our new Steam thumbnail art, and even using new character art for the villain of the game, that we showed off as a wallpaper a while back. We also were able to include our player death stops for a very dramatic and suspenseful ending.

While progress can be slow, I feel like we’ve made a lot of progress nonetheless. Cutscenes were a huge milestone for us!

The results were a better trailer. One that I think really shows off what we love about The Chaser’s Voyage and will hopefully be the reason everyone else loves it too. It was totally a lot of work, but it goes to show you that as long as you’re willing to put in the work, check your ego at the door, and always be trying and doing, you can go from a know-nothing novice to a knows-a-little-bit novice like me.

For more updates on The Chaser’s Voyage, be sure to check back on our blog, follow us on Twitter, or join our Discord! If you wish to play The Chaser’s Voyage, you can buy it while we’re in Early Access on Steam! (On sale for 49% off, $10.19, till 03/23/2023!)

-Eos//G

[a-chuffed-floating-panda]

A love in the eye of the hurricane ch 23 (unedited)

(Originale posted 10 October 2022 slightly better edited chapter)

Childhood, early fall.

Flying over thick green forests that seemed to go on forever and ever, she gasped when she saw the white Buddha and golden chorten in the distance. They stood above the trees and tall mountains on a platform of sorts, or maybe on the side of a mountain? She couldn’t tell.

It looked like only someone with a flying companion could access the temple. The dense forests and mountains went on for miles. It’d take months, at least, of constant running to reach it by foot. Then you’d have to climb the temple as well… something only a dedicated individual could manage.

Koko-chan said that there was a staircase, but visitors, not pilgrims, never took them unless they were desperate; a ride on a friendly bison always won over the 4500 step staircase.

Uma let out a content groan, and she patted her fur. “I know, this is going to be awesome!” Sister Tsering gave Palden permission to take her on a one week training trip to Wat tham suea. Jaya had whined about her being gone and ‘who’s going to help her with homework now?’ Jamyang promised to write letters every single day, and that seemed to make it better. She’d beamed, thrown her arms around her in a big hug and pressed a showy kiss on her cheek with a loud ‘muwah!’

Jamyang blinked with owlish eyes as Jaya dragged her off as she insisted she help her pack.

It might’ve been her imagination, but she thought she heard the nearby nuns laugh under their breaths and Palden smothering Koko-chan with her sleeves.

Jamyang steered Uma so that they were following Palden, Koko-chan and sister, Nyima; She’d insisted on being called that, because Sister made her feel old.

She followed them as they steered down over the mountain, her eyes widening and mouth dropping at the clusters of buildings and towers that met her eyes; a tall golden Buddha stood in the centre of all of them. “Woah…” She looked forward to what her week would entail.

She grumbled when something disturbed from her sleep, pulling the blanket over her head in an attempt to muffle the sound out.

The volume increase was gradual, like it was coming closer. She opened her eyes, annoyed, and sat up to peek out of the window. Her eyes squinted at a long blurry blob and she reached up with a hand and rubbed the sleep out of them. Her sight cleared more and Jamyang saw lines upon lines of monks and nuns carrying lights when she blinked. 

The chanting was steady, like a strong heartbeat. “Namo amituofo, Namo amituofo, Namo amituofo….” She recognised the mantra, having heard a group of monks recite it while visiting her temple. It was the mantra of Öpakme, Om ami dewa hri.

Such devotion. She leaned closer to the window as the lines of people walked around the corner of the tower she was staying in. Many of the people she knew didn’t practise like that, but that didn’t mean that the positive karma they were cultivating was anything less bad, did it?

Jamyang didn’t have enough wisdom to answer that question herself.

She laid back down when she couldn’t see them anymore, not being able to sleep. She reached out with a hand in front of her, opening and clenching it. “Om ami dewa hri.”

Jamyang wasn’t a fan of big robes, but she was on the smaller side and she didn’t control the world. The robes they gave her to wear during her stay didn’t fit properly. She stared at them for ten minutes, hoping that she’d scared them enough from glaring at them.

The grey robes were big on her. It was difficult to tie down the brown rakusu they gave her with the spacious sleeves.

“Need some help?” Palden stood in the doorframe, smiling at her struggle. Jamyang pouted at her. “Yes, please.”

“There.” Palden finished, patting the rakusu.

Jamyang looked down. Her sleeves were so big. They’d just get in the way when she’d do her hair. “Can you braid my hair, too?”

Jamyang remembered getting looks like the one Palden was giving her when she was younger. The ‘oh, you’re so adorable that I just want to eat you up!’ look.

She grumbled when Palden pinched her cheek. “Of course.” She grabbed a brush and urged her to sit down in front of the bed.

Jamyang sat quietly as Palden brushed her hair. It was her first time in different robes. She wasn’t used to grey, regardless of how many times she’d seen Aden in his grey robes. They were so big, too. Why were they so big? It didn’t seem practical if they were big enough, so you’d trip over your robes while running.

“Palden?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are the robes so big?” She held her arm in front of her, watching how far the bottom of her sleeve dipped.

“It’s to cast an illusion on the enemy.” She said, “They can’t see your body build, limbs and joints move well, and it hinders their ability to predict your moves.” Jamyang remembered reading about a prodigious swordsman who did the same thing; he’s worshipped as a guardian on one of the fire nation islands, if she remembered correctly. It was Tsugikuni something.

His birthday was a celebration, akin to a short festival lasting three days; Shaohao had invited her and her friends, including Aden, to come and celebrate it earlier this year.

“I guess that makes sense.” She conceded. “But is me tripping over them also a good reason? I’m tiny.” Build wise; she read more than she ran around when she was younger. She was over average when it came to height.

“I guess not.” Palden laughed and finished her braid. “But then it means that you’ll be learning stealth walking. I know that you’re already a natural at stealth, but it helps with getting used to the robes.”

Jamyang didn’t know just how Palden was going to teach her that.

The tall grass always found a way to tickle her, even when fully dressed

“Why are we here?” She stomped on the grass, annoyed at its intrusiveness. It wouldn’t be too noticeable. She saw some animals on their way here and they could blame the slightly flattened grass on them.

Palden was crouched down beside her, the hilt of the holster peeking up underneath her robes and pointed to a house in the distance. “See that house?”

“Yeah?” It looked like a farm or maybe an inn for travelers. Palden handed her a small golden bell, a piece of paper, and a chubby brown panda. “You’re going to sneak into that farm, leave that bell behind and write anything you deem important. Miso is joining you in case something out of your control happens, like an ambush or something.” Jamyang stared at her, shocked. She was going to sneak in on that farm?! No practise run? What if she messed up? 

“I’m going to sneak in on that farm?” She pointed, voice cracking. She’d never snuck into a house before. Miso made herself comfortable on top of her shoulders.

“Yep.” she answered. “Sneak in, leave the bell and write anything you deem important. In and out, no fighting.” Palden reassured and patted her head. “Why did you have me bring my ninjaken then, if there’s no fighting?” It’s strapped to her waist; her jian was back at the temple.

Palden also gave her a utility belt to wear across her chest.

“So that you can get used to carrying it. You’ll be surprised at how it can limit your movement.” Jamyang puffed her cheek at her. It couldn’t be that bad. She put the bell into one of the pouches on the belt and folded the piece of paper into another pouch.

“Look at it as a test run and see how stealthy you are from a different perspective.”

For a test run it was… informative.

Young adult, early summer.

The ache of the healing tattoos made it uncomfortable to walk and do tasks around the temple. Jampo seemed happy to accompany her, bouncing on his feet as she walked and sitting down behind her ankles when she stopped for a quick break.

He also enjoyed the pets and attention passing children would give him during those breaks. They also congratulated her on getting her tattoos as well. Jamyang thanked them with headpats and an affectionate panda.

Jetsun, not Sister Jetsun Dronma, but Jetsun Chesa, a toddler at the mature age of almost two winters, squealed when she saw Jampo and toddled up to them away from the older Sister Jamyang. She’s technically a Sister now, weird. She didn’t feel like one.

“Chi la ‘om chung!” Ji la dom chung, almost right. She smiled as Jetsun sat down to pet an eager Jampo.

“Be careful. Don’t be so rough when you pet him.” Jetsun listened to her words and gave Jampo really slow pets with an adorable frown as she focused on not hurting him. 

“Jetsun,” Sister Jamyang’s voice sounded in front of them and steps followed. “Don’t run off like that.”

Jetsun’s eyes got big, and she tried to pick up Jampo, who sagged in her small hands, and turned to her. “Chi la ‘om chung…” Sister Jamyang sighed and pinched her nose. “Fine, you can continue to pet him.”

Jetsun cheered and her adorable frown returned as she continued to give Jampo’s fur slow and gentle strokes.

“Congratulations on getting your arrows.” 

“Ah, thank you.” She put her hands together and gave her a small bow. “Your mastery is certified now, even if you’ve been one for years.” A small smile played on her lips. “Tsering was close to fighting them to get you to have your ceremony, you know.” Of course she did. 

“I imagined something like that happening, yeah.” She likely wouldn’t have had her ceremony otherwise.

Jetsun giggled as Jampo licked her face.

“Okay, come now.” Sister Jamyang said, and Jetsun pouted. “You wanted to meet Elder Rabten and we have to get preparations ready.” Jetsun hung her head, not wanting to leave. “Jampo flies around the temple daily, and you can always ask Jamyang if you can play with him.” Jetsun looked back at them with sad eyes as they walked away.

“Churr-squeak.” Jampo looked sad too. She lightly nudged him with the side of her foot. “Come on, let’s continue.” 

After a few steps, she heard laughter. 

… Jamyang startled at the yell while she crawled through the vent.

She paused to listen, but the person was spewing nonsense. Were they drunk? Through their gibberish, it sounded like they were accusing someone and she heard… sobbing? She crawled towards the sound, grabbing the small red pouch, filled with what felt like powder she found on her way there.

“Yoush bucssh!” Unsteady steps and something breaking with a loud crash. The sobbing increased in volume. “No, no!” they cried. “Not him, stay away!” 

“Miso!” she whispered, and the panda stirred. “Chri?”

“Go find Palden.” Miso took a few seconds before rolling away from her position on her neck and pattering down in the opposite direction. The slight creak of the vent opening told her she was out.

Jamyang had tied the bell to one of the fences outside and petted the ostrich-horse that caught her. It was a risky bribe, but it worked and it left her alone.

Maneuvering in the tight space, she got out the piece of paper and added a new thing to her list. “Relationship problems?” She scribbled with a charcoal stick she found on the floor above. Jamyang continued crawling. She needed to get out of the vent.

Glancing around the corner of a doorway, she saw the source of said laughter being Choda as Tashi spun her around.

Jamyang felt herself smile. She was happy on their behalf. It’d been a little awkward in their friend group at the beginning of their relationship, but it got better after around a month or so, if she remembered correctly. One or two months, somewhere around there.

Choda giggled when Tashi put her head into the hollow of her neck. “Nyingdu-la.” Jamyang tensed when she heard the phrase and sped away as fast as she could, leaving them alone.

She wasn’t meant to hear that. She was not meant to hear that.

Jampo followed her, tripped over his feet and rolled into the back of her legs.

“Be careful!” She chided and picked him up. “We’re sorta, accidentally sneaking a round.” She didn’t plan this, and she heard peals of laughter coming from another room further ahead. 

“We can’t get caught.” Not because she wanted to listen in, but because she didn’t want to ruin the others’ moments together. That’d be so rude of her and she’d feel so bad if she ended up actually ruining something.

Jampo stared at her, leaned in and licked her nose. Just like Uma, she smiled.

“Come on.”

… the man laid unresponsive on the floor. Palden said he was okay, just unconscious.

The woman- wife? Girlfriend?- she tended to, couldn’t get much out in between her cries and choked up words of gratitude while she healed her. 

“Do you have anywhere safe to go?” 

“N-no.” She sniffed. 

“You should take your son and go to the golden temple.”

“B-but.” She stuttered. “This is baba’s farm. I’m tending to it while he’s on a trip. I can’t just leave!”

“It’ll be momentary until we can ensure you and your child’s safety. I’ll send someone I know to take care of your farm. Is that okay?”

The woman eventually agreed, and they acted as her guards on the road there.

“Hide in the grass!” Palden hissed when she saw… a group of people in the distance. Jamyang watched in anticipation as Palden confronted the group.

She snuck by multiple people having their ‘moments’ with someone and succeeded in not ruining them.

She could find solace in her room, maybe a nap. All the children congratulating her had been overwhelming; was this the exhaustion Gawa felt during her mastery celebration? 

Jaya’s familiar laugh echoed in the dorm hallway, followed by another laugh she didn’t recognise. “Hm, must be the crush.” She mumbled to herself, Jaya hadn’t introduced them yet. ‘Soo cool! And so handsome!’ Didn’t tell Jamyang much about the person.

Aden was weird when she stumbled upon him. Serious looking. Unreadable look in his eyes. He was thinking hard about something. “What’s wrong?”

“Um…” He started, sounding unsure. “It’s nothing important. I’m helping someone solve a… personal conflict.” Hm, it’s something he doesn’t want me to know. Jamyang hadn’t noticed anyone dealing with personal problems recently, but it could also be a temple individual from Yonggunsa he was helping that she wasn’t familiar with. He looked unsure, but she wouldn’t prod.

She’ll either figure it out or see it go down. It’s happened before.

“Have you seen Choekyi?” He asked. “I think she’s ignoring me. She won’t talk to me one on one.”

“Oh, she isn’t ignoring you.” She answered. Choekyi was doing a lot of sneaking around when it came to Aden. Jamyang knew because she caught her and subsequently told her how to sneak around better.

She also promised on Uma and Chenrezig that she wouldn’t tell a soul of what she saw.

Jamyang was good at secrets. She heard many of them unintentionally over the years of being stealthy and being at the wrong place at the right time.

They still hadn’t caught Danan dyed the robes a darker colour over the ten years she’d known him; She may or may not have told him of a secret passage when she was thirteen winters.

“She’s dealing with a personal problem that includes you.” She said, and watched how his face morphed. He only needed a little push. She wouldn’t flat out say it. “Me? But, but, what did I do?” 

“Nothing.”

“Huh? I don’t get what you are trying to say.”

“Think, Aden. Personal problems are universal for feeling related matters and those matters are related to you.” He blinked at her, eyes widening and face blushing.

“O-oh, where is she?”

“The last time I saw her, she was on one of the temple pagodas.” He thanked her with a stiff bow and ran off.

Jamyang stared at the trail of dust he left behind and thought of dusting the hallway, but the nap appealed more to her. She shook her head with a smile and made her way to her room.

… her yell was frightening. A tremor shocked Jamyang’s bones. She hadn’t seen Palden like this before.

“Fight me!” She pulled the dao from the holster on her back and proceeded to cut down every single individual of that group. Her hands trembled. Palden was scary. Jamyang had never seen her as scary before. Palden was funny and joked with her. She was her teacher.

The woman held her son’s head into her chest so that he wouldn’t see. 

The group of people- bandits?- had taken a hostage. Palden bent down and cut the ropes around their wrists. They bowed at her and helped move the bodies out of the way.

Palden waved at them to come. “It’s safe.” She yelled, and they made their way over.

Jamyang glanced at the bloodied bodies and prayed for them. It conflicted her feelings. All life was sacred. But they were bad and had taken a hostage. What if they were driven to this because they were desperate?

She avoided the splattered blood on the ground. “All life is sacred.” She whispered under her breath.

“They are.” Palden said in a solemn voice, suddenly standing beside her. She patted her head and Jamyang leaned into her side. “That’s why you defend them, but you don’t have to like it.”

Jampo jumped on top of her stomach with a loud quack. “Oof!” She played along. “Ugh, I’m dead.” He chittered, giggling, and crawled up her body, nestling into the crook of her neck with his small arms reaching around her neck in a hug.

Jamyang closed her eyes and evened her breathing, falling asleep within seconds.

It was difficult to breathe. Gawa pulled at the loose parts of her robe. She wanted to run out of the room and cuddle with Cintsha and Jannu, but she wouldn’t do that. She wasn’t a coward.

Well, she was a coward, but not that much of a coward. Gawa would stay to support them. She’d only be rude and cause a scene if she left. Plus, they’d likely hate her.

That’s her anxiety speaking. She’d never seen them ‘hate’ in the years she’d known them, but they’d definitely hate her if she left.

Yara’s move was a small cyclone that she spread around the room, up to the ceiling, each of the corners, down to the floor again and whirled it into small controlled circles in front of her before dispersing it. Master worthy. It took perfect control to do that. Everyone clapped. Tora cheered loudly in front of her. 

Aden nudged her. Apparently she’d forgotten to clap, and she hurried to clap because who’d she be if she didn’t?

Then it was Jamyang’s turn. The elders took great amusement at Shaohao’s enthusiasm. “Here, or here?” Jamyang pulled his shirt so that he stood in between the two places. “There.”

The flame floated over his palms, warm and flickering. “Ready.” He held his hands out and Jamyang started a whirling air in between her hands.

First thing she noticed, the concentration of the air. She felt the air being sucked towards her from where she sat in the back of the room. Almost back of the room, second to last row.

With slow moments to keep the whirling air intact, she eased it over Shaohao’s flame and it bolstered up in size and flickered uncontrollably. It didn’t go out, nor did any embers from his fire fly out of the compact air Jamyang surrendered it with. She was in control of the flame, letting it blaze brightly, giving the room golden glow.

Impressive. Truly impressive. She’s been a master for a while. Gawa had seen it in the past and she saw it now. Jamyang told her about it and Izumi and Michiko had begged to see it, but she’d held firm and said that they’d see it after her ceremony. 

Jamyang’s amazing. She deserved this. Screw the rules of the temple for having her wait so long. The arrow suited her. She looked great with them.

The atmosphere was tense as she removed the air around the flame, layer by layer, slowly giving back the control to Shaohao. The flame flickered down to its previous size, unharmed.

She’s great and so, so talented.

They clap for her and Aden had to nudge her twice to clap because she was so enthralled by her move. Her chest constricted and warmth spread out to her limbs. Go away.

Go away.

Jamyang found her eyes in the crowd and sent a smile her way. Oh, how it warmed her to her core. She wanted to cry. Please go away. Gawa sent a small one back. Why was this so difficult?

Om ah hum vajra guru padma siddhi. Breathe. In and out, just a little more until she can leave without being rude to them. Incense flowing was next and after that was the people who couldn’t witness it. She could sneak away then. It was hard to breathe. 

It was embarrassing how much she struggled and Aden kept giving her looks out of the corner of her eye.

Just hit the spirit damned bells. The dungchen blared in her ears. Focus.

She hit a few of them, not all of them, but she did hit them. She’d take that. 

She snuck out when the ceremony finished, collapsed on all fours in an empty hallway, and gasped for air. She stumbled on her feet to the room she was staying in before anyone saw her.

She fell on the floor, motionless. Her breaths coming out in gasps, Gawa clutched at her chest and hugged her knees.

“Go away.” Her heart beat loudly underneath her hand; Having the audacity to defy her. Her composure finally broke, and she cried. Her lovely pandas scurried over to comfort her.

That’s how Aden found her, crying in the fetal position on the floor, being comforted by pandas.

“Gawa?” He opened the door, peeking through the small door crack before stepping in. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, just fine. Great.” Bold lie, and Aden knew that.

Aden shuffled over to her and sat down beside her. “Why did you leave? They asked where you were.” Of course they did. Now she felt guilty for leaving.

“It was overwhelming.” Truth. “It was difficult to keep myself composed.” She anticipated his next questions while he thought of them. Something told her she wouldn’t like it.

“... Do you like her?”

“No.” Another lie. “I don’t.”

He was quiet for a couple of seconds and brushed her hair with his hand. “You know, it’s okay if you do.”

“I know that, but I don’t.” Lie. “I don’t like her.” Lie. A terrible lie as well.

She fiddled with the threngwa Jamyang gifted her for her sixth birthday when Aden left.

A sleepy Jamyang and Jampo found her hours later. “Hey,” she hugged her and Gawa tensed. “Where were you?” She pulled away, pouting. “I looked for you, y’know.”

“It was overwhelming.”

“Oh, that’s okay, you should’ve just said so.” Her heart thudded so quickly she feared Jamyang would hear it.

“Um,” she looked around her room, she remembered bringing it with her. Relief washing over her when she spotted the white clay pot she brought with her.

“What?”

“Sit.” She went and grabbed the pot.

“Anywhere?” 

“On the floor is okay.” Gawa joined her quickly afterward. Opening the pot, she scooped up a clear gel and grabbed Jamyang’s right and rubbed the gel in.

“What are you doing?”

“Returning the favour.” Jamyang laughed after seconds of comprehending the situation, a lovely sound and a balm to her nerves.

“I see. It’s not that bad though and I’m not poisoned like you were.”

“Hush!” She glared at her. “I’m returning the favour. Let me take care of you.” Whops, she bit her lip. She didn’t mean to say that.

Jamyang laughed again, and her heart raced. “Okay.”

It wasn’t an excuse to touch her skin. Gawa genuinely wanted to return the favour, but somewhere along the line as she worked, it did turn into an excuse so that she could touch her skin.

She screamed at herself, at her beating heart. Go away!

Notes:

Procrastination and hyperfixations are officially kicking my butt. I am still not done with the other chapter to the Tsering-centric story T_T ugh (I don't know if anyone reads that, but if you do, I'm sorry). Maybe its a bad thing that I started taking Mondays off? Maybe I'll take half of the day off instead so that I can get something done without pulling an all nighter every time I update. But hey, wassup. Gawa's feelings hit her like a bang and it does not go well and she'd like for them to go away, please. Shaohao got to be a stand in and they're officially masters now! Yay! A few more years of pining and they'll be getting together. I am ready for it. Palden is scary when she wants to be and I have the perfect image of her in my head, but I don't trust myself to draw her at my current noobish level. I have three thumbnail sketches of Jamyang and Uma flying over the mountains of Way Tham Suea that I'll be posting on my Tumblr, if anyone is interested in them....   Threngwa: mala Ji la dom chung: red panda Om ah hum vajra guru padma siddhi: mantra of Guru Rinpoche

[fillinforlater]

Blonde: Chapter II

Female Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 2938 words

Tags: terrible day, everything goes wrong, helpful friends, saving and helping, light hearted fun, slow burn, character building, mystery toxic relationship, curse filled fight, hatred, terrible mother

TW: toxic relationship

Credit: @midnightdancingsol for editing. The real MVP behind the scenes, thank you!

(A/N: @firagaarmor bcuz of course and @ifeelsounsure0 bcuz he got me to write something fluffy. Love you two and I hope y’all enjoy this second part)

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m, I’m sorry, sir.”

It’s not going well for you today. In fact, it’s been quite terrible. 

Your alarm didn’t go off as your phone didn’t charge overnight. For some reason the energy supplier cut off your electricity. Again. Is it because there was an issue with the powerline? Definitely possible, it wouldn’t be the first. It could also be because they haven't been paid last month.

A cold shower, dry noodles, and being late to school make you contemplate calling your mother and asking, no, begging for money. It's the worst form of humiliation and only has a fifty percent chance of succeeding. There is no painless way out of this, and this was only the beginning of the day.

After this disaster, you arrived at school. You are already in trouble for your bad grades and so it's a terrible look when you arrive five minutes before the lesson ends. It gets even worse when your explanation is a stuttering mess. Your teacher screamed at you for minutes straight. One more misstep and he'll let you fail.

And lastly, work. From the very first customer on, you made mistake after mistake: two items weren't scanned, three complaints with unsatisfying answers, and now, you drop a glass of jam. Luckily, the customer caught it. In his understandable anger he throws a tantrum, urging you to scan faster and faster.

"My God, is it really this hard to watch out? Every elementary school student can do this!

"S-sir, I'm sorry."

"This should not happen, I w—"

"Please, leave her alone, sir. She apologized enough already."

A soothing voice suddenly speaks up for you. Gaeul has a stern, confident glow on her features and can stand up for herself, for you, even if she's signifiantly smaller. The man backs off.

"I mean, she should just be more careful."

"I'm sure she will be."

"Okay, okay."

He scans his credit card and leaves with the usual clatter of the shopping cart.

It's just you and her now. Gaeul's blonde hair seems to glow silver-gray today, but it could just be the dirty white light above the store's shelves. She is once again carrying colorful cans, more than last time. Half a dozen.

"You, you two are more thirsty this time, huh?" you stutter your failed attempt at a joke.

"Hey, are you okay? You're crying."

"What, I'm not—"

Not yet. The tears in your eyes are like an avalanche about to break loose any second now. Gaeul can clearly see it as she softly inspects your face. No, don't cry now, you tell yourself and reach for the soda. 

Pepsi. Beep.

"Yes you are and that's okay."

Coke. Beep. 

"N-no, I'm not cryin'."

Mountain Dew. Beep.

"Hey."

It's too late. The can of green tea over the scanner is not only met with a beep, but also drops of rain. Your tears come down, nothing is able to stop them. Today is just too much.

Beep. Beep. 

"Hm, how do I do this?"

Gaeul's breath brings you back from this freezing in place. She’s right next to you, on the side of the scanner only employees are allowed to access. Cautiously, she tries to read the words on the panel and keys, but you are in the way. Her body heat and calm breath are so close, you gasp and back off and feel something hit your elbow. A decorative vase at the back of your carrel falls over. The sound of china bursting on the stone floor makes Gaeul jump. 

Gaeul scrambles awkwardly to quickly leave the carrel and walks to the pile of dirt and shards, while you try to balance yourself and look around. If your manager heard this, he will be here in less than a minute—

“What was that? Checkout three—”

“I’m sorry,” Gaeul interrupts the annoyed manager, “I must have accidentally touched it. It wasn’t on purpose and I—”

“N-no!” you interrupt Gaeul with a shocked stutter, “I, it was my fault. My e-elbow hit it when I turn—”

“She is just taking the blame for me,” Gaeul interrupts.

“Wh-what?” your manager says. He looks between the two of you.  

Instinctively, you shut up and stare at the ground. Confusion keeps you from crying and instead raises questions. What is happening? Why is Gaeul doing this? What if I have to pay—no, what if Gaeul has to pay for the vase? Would she do it for me?

“Trust me, sir, she is taking the blame out of kindness,” Gaeul argues calmly. She then bows her head. “It’s my fault. I will pay for the damages.”

“Ah, no. It’s fine,” the bewildered manager responds, scratching the back of his head, “Thank you for your honesty. It was an ugly vase anyways. Just… be more careful next time.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir.”

You stare at Gaeul bowing again. Her upper body is covered by a simple, white t-shirt with a black cat on its front, something you haven’t noticed in your self-centered sadness. As the manager walks away, you’re still staring at her. Your heart beats faster and a warm thought arises in your mind.

This is the first time someone made a sacrifice for me.

#

The final rays of sunlight beam over the roofs. This time of the year, it’s your usual sight when you leave the store after your shift. You step through the employee exit, a white plastic bag in hand, and trot towards the parking lot. At this time, no one is allowed to park on the property of the store and the manager made it your job to check every evening. You scan the concrete area and as usual, no one dares to park here. If so, you’d write down the license plate number and—

“G-Gaeul?”

“Oh, there you are. Hey.”

Gaeul sits atop a metal safety pillar next to the entrance, each of her six cans lined up in a row before her. She waves and points to the pillar next to her. The sunlight reflected from the glass front behind her makes her bright hair glow brighter and you fly towards her like a moth. 

“What are you d-doing here?”

“I was waiting for you. I wanted to apologize.”

“A-apologize? Why?”

Gaeul points at the pillar once more. Never not laying your eyes off of her face, you sit down on the metal surface. Through your thin skin-tight jeans you still feel its coldness. You want to jump back up and rather stand, but Gaeul reaches for your hands and you freeze on the spot. It’s not cold anymore.

“Because I had a stupid idea and made you feel uncomfortable in front of your boss? I think this warrants an apology.”

“B-but you actually helped me. I should th-thank you.”

Before you can fall back into your old habit of lowering your gaze, Gaeul brings you back with an assertive rebuttal.

“No, I made you trip and then the accident happened. It’s my fault and I am sorry. I should’ve used my brain back then.”

Gaeul chuckles. For the first time, you hear her voice as small and cute. You join her and a rare wave of warmth and appreciation overcomes all negative emotions. The rest of the day with all its burdens becomes irrelevant for at least this moment.

“Apology accepted. By the way, wh-what was your ‘stupid idea’?”

"Hm? What do you me—ah, yes! Well, uhm, I guess I wanted to help you by scanning the cans and finishing the transaction on my own. The scanning part was easy, but I had no clue how to, uhm, open the register. Hehe…”

Gaeul averts her gaze onto the cracked pavement. A faint blush turns her pastel pink cheeks rosy pink while her hand scratches the back of her head. 

After a second of silence, you begin to snicker. Your mind cannot fathom why she looks so irresistibly cute when she is embarrassed, but also why she would attempt something this unnecessary. It’s nice that she wanted to help, but it was meant to fail from the start. 

“I-I’m sorry, but I find this funny,” you say as your snicker continues.

“Is that why you’re laughing at me?” Gaeul asks, acting offended.

“No, no, I’m laughing because it was cute, but pointless.”

“Th-that’s why I apologized!”

Gaeul’s face jumps from the beautiful rosy pastel to the red of a ripe tomato. She buries it in her hand, making only her blonde bob—the light in the store betrayed you: it’s still as blonde as before—visible. Her body moves to the side away from you.

You stop your giggles and aim your hand at her shoulder. What was supposed to be an apologetic gesture to get back the beautiful girl's attention and explain yourself to her, turns to a shove. With too much momentum from standing up, you unwittingly push Gaeul, making her stagger and almost fall from the pillar. Luckily, she is able to put her leg down firmly and rescue the two of you from falling over.

She removes her hands to reveal her shocked orbs. They are so close to yours, a breath away. Somehow your hand is still on hers and once again, everything is silent for a second. Instead of giggling, you fall to your knees this time.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I-I didn’t want this to happen, really. I just wanted to—no, I’m sorry, I always do things wrong, there is always trouble and—”

“Hey. Hey! Everything is okay, nothing happened.”

“No, I’m such a klutz, an worthless idiot—”

“No, you’re not. A funny little mistake doesn’t make you worthless.”

Gaeul’s soothing voice and soft fingers on your hair guide you away from your self-loathing. The pain you so easily get lost in lingers only for seconds, but when you see her eyes, it's gone. 

"You mean it?"

You did not have to ask that as her genuinity was obvious in her gaze, her expression, her gesture. She doesn’t lie, her words are not just rootless. Although she might only act out of human decency, it feels like burning compassion.

Gaeul stretches out her hand and you take it. You get up swiftly and stand next to the beautiful woman, staring at her probably a second too long. She giggles and turns her head away.

"Yeah, I mean it. Don't define yourself over such a tiny mistake. Actually, it was kinda cute."

Turn away as well. She should not see the seemingly instantaneous, almost cartoonish blush taking over your face. There is no doubt that she once again was genuine and you scramble to come up with a response, with a rebuttal, but there is nothing. Your mind is so full, yet so void of words.

A ring from Gaeul's phone puts an end to the rising tension. 

"Hi," Gaeul greets after fishing out her phone. A second in and she freezes in place. Her lips lose a bit of their already light color, her knees buckle lightly.

You watch Gaeul from the corner of your eye. Throughout the call, she is reduced to repeating simple words or inconclusive phrases. A 'Yes' here, a 'Me' there, sometimes an 'I know', other than that she is just listening. Her free hand scratches her blonde hair or hides shortly in the pockets of her baby-blue jeans.

When your eyes meet, you quickly spin around. She is clearly uncomfortable and you don't want to make it worse by eavesdropping on her. In an attempt to look somewhat disinterested, you look into the plastic bag you brought along. Soda, two days past the expiration date, along with instant noodles, rice, and a mixture of vegetables that still looked edible. It'd be a waste to throw them away.

"I'm sorry, b—"

You raise your head and Gaeul lowers her hand. Little beads of sweat trickle down her distressed features. In a hurry she collects all the colorful cans splayed on the pavement and tries the impossible task of carrying them in her bare hands. They of course tumble down and you watch as Gaeul’s body trembles.

“Ah, damn,” Gaeul says in a dull voice, adding a clearly faked laugh, “I have to go now. I missed something important.” 

“Wait!” you shout as she tries to jog away with the unstable tower in her arms, “take this. O-otherwise, you won’t make it home without an accident.” 

Stretch your arm towards her. A light breeze makes the now empty white plastic bag in your hand sway in the wind. It’s like a flag and your arm is the pole. Gaeul hesitates.

“Are you sure? Don’t you need it too?”

“It’s not that much. Look, a couple of packets—I can easily carry those.”

“I don’t know…”

You try to make your eyes look more pleading to finally convince Gaeul to just take the bag. You definitely want to help her and although you understand and cherish her care for you, hearing the shift in her voice to sadness leaves you determined—you will not leave until she accepts your offer, even if it takes a lie.

“Gaeul, please. If I should struggle to carry this home, I can just grab another bag from inside the store. You need it a lot more right now.”

With a residue of hesitance Gaeul reaches for and fills the plastic bag with her cans. Although she whispers a grateful ‘Thank you’, her expression is trying to hide something dampening her mood. You can’t help but think that there is something seriously wrong. Some dread seems to linger above Gaeul like rain-filled clouds.

You wave after her, but she doesn’t turn around. Her walk is swift, her blonde hair bops at each step and you admire how incredible she looks in this casual outfit. Form-fitting jeans, short white T-shirt—Gaeul can wear literally anything and still look stunning. 

Who would want to cause any discomfort to someone this wonderful?

#

Scroll through your contacts. It’s certainly not a long list and you wish most of the names displayed on the screen were just non-existent, but you can still waste time by going down and back up. 

Avoid at all costs, waste as much time as possible, maybe she will call on her own. 

Naive thoughts to keep you occupied, but if you want your stove top to work or lamps to shine you need to call her. 

Even this late, she is still surely awake. Even after years of fighting, she will surely pick up. Even if you are formal and nice, she might make this go sideways quickly. Having to call her was always your least favorite chore since living alone, and when her receiver is lifted and the line is clear, you freeze on the spot, like you have every single time.

“What?” she groans into your ear, not hiding her annoyance. There is an obnoxiously loud TV running in the background, some soap opera characters are fighting. You always hated these shows. They were one of the most irritating parts about here, but not as irritating as the barking of a dog. Last time you called, she didn’t own one. Maybe she is at a friend’s house, maybe she is getting her life together and wants to care for a dog, but God forbid she has a boyfriend now.

There is no escaping it, you already pressed the green button. Suppress the urge to immediately tap on the red one and end the call. You have to engage in this. It's no use running away. 

"I need… there is no electricity," you say firmly, even through the little slip-up, trying not to sound too cold or desperate.

"Yeah, I know," she responds nonchalantly, interrupting her response to suck at her cigarette. Even after all this time, you can still smell the disgusting odor of the smoke she always exhales in a celebratory fashion.

"What?!"

"I couldn't afford it."

"Huh? And what am I supposed to do now?" you say resentfully, unable to keep yourself from shouting. Her attitude broke you faster than even your worst fears would have assumed. The barking gets louder and your mother half-heartedly speaks over it.

"Chill out! After my boss pays me, I'll be able to pay for your bill. That motherfucker is late again."

"And till then?"

"What do I know. Can't change it."

Your hand wrapped around your cell phone trembles. You grit your teeth and keep your rage-filled tears back. 

"You want me to starve? I can't cook anything. Noodles, rice—"

"Then eat something else."

"And how should I shower?"

Your voice cracks, almost crumbles as you press the speaker onto your sweaty cheek. 

"You'll survive without one."

"Can you fucking care for once?! I'm in trouble, again, and you don't give a shit, again!"

"I don't have to listen to you. You wanted to live alone."

"Because I can't stand smelling you and your fucking cigarettes all day."

"Shut the fuck up."

Her voice is cold, colder than ice, colder than a murderer’s heart, colder than the vaccum of space. It’s the coldest thing in the entire universe. If hatred was transferable through phone lines, she would wince and squirm on the ground right now. Instead, it’s you who is about to fall on your knees. The weight is getting too heavy.

The beeping of your phone after she hangs up just echoes through your empty mind.

One thought however resonates infinitely in this void.

I fucking hate you.

(A/N2: thanks for reading! Btw, why is she so damn beautiful??😳🥺)

[ronearoundblindly]

Autumn Is Healing (Oct 24th)

Flufftober Day Twenty-Four--All the Hugs

drabble for steve rogers x super soldier!reader (see previous or series)

No warnings except for no editing; just fluff. WC 641

Steve’s a bit of a hypocrite but not on purpose. He watches. He watches everything and everyone with his artist/strategist eye. He’s ready to act at any moment.

That’s how he knows you stiffen when anxious. You move less and those smaller movements are jerky and unsure. Steve won’t make a big deal out of it in public because he knows you’re a bit proud. Affection in happy times is one thing, but sometimes you take a display as a critique of how you’re doing. You don’t like help if you haven’t asked. You aren’t weak. You can handle anything.

So Steve waits until you and he are alone. Usually, he calculates that it can wait until the end of the day, but once in a while, he makes an excuse to pull you aside, get you into another room or hall or outside in the shadow of the trees, and wrap you in his arms. There are always a few moments of fighting, one or two little pushes, and a half-hearted protest, but then you soften. You melt right into his open arms.

Steve loves those hugs.

He loves being right more.

Yes. Steve Rogers is a hypocrite because he doesn’t notice one very, very important thing: he does that, too.

He stiffens. He gets jerky and cold. He shies away from normal affection for however long he’s grumpy or nervous. He can handle it. He doesn’t need help. He’s strong, strong for him, for you, for everyone, and he won’t let you hold him.

He pivots and turns and avoids coming to bed. Most of the time, his ploy works well enough to get him through the feeling, then he’s better so it doesn’t matter. See. He’s fine. No problem.

Well…

It’s been a night now, and a next day, and Steve still grumbles and mopes around like a huge sad sack. He’s dismissed four different attempts to talk about it from four different people. He’s repeated “nothing’s wrong” several dozen times. He’s starting to feel as scratched and warped as the broken record he sounds like.

Finally, finally, he has one normal conversation with Bucky, one where Buck doesn’t ask what’s going on with him or why his face looks drawn so tight or why he’s hunching against his gargantuan frame. It’s so nice, so soothing that Steve doesn’t notice the quick flickers of Bucky’s eyes behind him. He’s lulled by getting to ramble about something completely mundane—fresh versus dried fruit in oatmeal of all things—and then you strike.

Silent as the grave you rush behind Steve, allowing only two warning sounds: the rustle of your long skirt and the faintest whisper of “sneak attack.”

His eyes go wide and the air is punched from his lungs. There’s an instant of fight reaction, but your serum made you powerful enough to stop his struggle.

Bucky just walks off, muttering about how his work here is done, and Steve can’t help but moan in annoyance.

You don’t say anything else. You hold him tight and kiss his cheek over and over until he gives up the ghost of his bitchy mood, and you slither around in front of him.

“I’m fine,” he says one last, half-ass time.

“Sure you are—“ you nuzzle up into his neck “—ya grumpy goose.”

 Steve feels your breath gust past the collar of his shirt. He almost shivers at the speed at which his stress races from his muscles.

“You’re also a terrible liar.”

He sighs and loops his hands around opposite sides of your waist, pinching his broad chest against your face. Your smothered, tiny ‘yay’ at your favorite flex breaks his scowl into a smile.

Yes, Steve is a hypocrite, but at least he isn’t a liar. He’s bad at being bad. He’ll accept his punishment now, and he’s sentenced to all the hugs.

dividers by @silkholland; challenge details @flufftober

[Day Twenty-Three; Day Twenty-Five]

[Chronological Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[oddaodd]

· I Don't Go In For Sweets ·

Request: by a lovely anon "set after the events of season 3. Tommy can't handle the company, he's still grieving and he has to be there for Charlie so Polly tells him she knows a girl from a good family to get married He ends up agreeing (aunt Pol can be very persuasive) but even though he's married, this new girl isn't considered as a wife. He doesn't really make any effort but his "wife" understands, he's a widowed father who lost his first wife only a year ago. However since they are...in this, she wants to make her time as enjoyable as possible for the both of them and for Charlie too. But no matter what Tommy makes it a point of honor to not let her in, to not let her replace Grace so he ignores her, he works more, tries to spend as little as possible in the house. Reader stays patient, it will be alright and Charlie is making her quite busy anyway. One night, Tommy comes home completely drunk and maybe a bit high too, he can't even make it to his office. Thankfully Reader is still awake, she takes care of him and Tommy just...melts at how gentle Reader is, he may be able to keep his distant while sober but it's much harder in his state. He admits to her how he's been feeling and all. Ever since that night, something changed, Tommy feels some comfort, some solace being around her, she accepts him wholly, even his flaws, the bad side of his business and she tries to provide some sort of safe place for when it gets too hard." (I edited the request because it was very long, but I kept all essential parts in there)

Author’s note: I loved loved loved writing this and it ended up being SUPER long, but I’m very happy with how it turned out. As always, I hope you like it and have the loveliest of days!

Warnings: season 3 SPOILERS sort of, but not really, still read at your own risk. Arranged marriage, mentions of alcohol and drugs, angst.

·

“Thomas, you may not be able to see it, but you’re breaking apart” Polly spoke with a sigh as she lit a cigarette after everyone was dismissed from a family meeting.

Everyone had left Tommy’s office in arrow house rather gaily after receiving their fair compensations for partaking in the whole Russian ordeal, all except Polly, who remained where she sat, wishing for a word with her nephew

Tommy merely scoffed at her concern before lighting his own cigarette and taking a puff “I’ll be alright”

“And Charlie?” Pol pressed knowing Tommy’s mourning was not only affecting him, but Charlie as well. “What about him?”

“He’s fine” He said before turning around to look through the window, ignoring his Aunt’s heavy stare.

“You take too much after your mother” she sighed half angry half sad “she too loved pretending everything was alright and I don’t need to remind you where that lead her”

Tommy sighed deeply, he knew he could fool anyone. Anyone but Polly. “We’ll manage”

“Consider my offer” Polly said standing up and making her way to the door “Y/n is a good girl from a good family” she persuaded before leaving the room.

Tommy sighed at his Aunt’s words, he wasn’t ready to get married again even when he knew the woman he would be marrying was a nice one. He felt like he was spitting on Grace’s grave and he hated himself for even considering the prospect, but he knew a mother figure would be good for Charlie.

He spent the rest of the day pondering about Polly’s suggestion and remembering his own childhood in the shadow of the absent tortured presence that his mother had been. It didn’t take him long to decide he didn’t want that for Charlie, so that same night he phoned Polly.

“I’ll do it” was all he said before hanging up. There was no need for more words, Polly would know exactly what he meant.

Exactly a week later, Tom was standing in the altar of a church that was significantly smaller than the one from his first wedding. The fact that everything about this wedding was so obscenely different from his first did soothe his guilt a bit. And as he stood there he couldn’t keep his mind from traveling to the days leading up to his wedding to Grace. She had made sure everything was perfect and had made an effort to invite every single relative she could think of. She remembered her rambling on an on about fabrics, insisting that everything ought to be perfect when he in all honestly couldn’t care less, he just wanted to marry her.

All his thoughts vanished away with a poof when Y/n came into sight. And what a sight she was. She had insisted on doing her own makeup and on pinning flowers to her hair to compliment her headpiece and her elegant, yet simple white dress flowed almost mystically as her father gave her away. She had never imagined she would be marrying someone she didn’t know, but she wanted to look her best for getting married is not something people do everyday.

When she stood in the altar, she offered her to be husband a smile which he did not return, instead turning his attention to the priest before them. She mirrored his actions, her heart beating violently under her chest as the priest began speaking.

It all felt like a blur, she could swear it had only been a second since her father had given her away and yet, the priest had already uttered the dreaded “you may now kiss the bride”

Tommy barely brushed his lips against hers and soon the sound of everyone clapping invaded her ears. They had a small party afterwards in Y/n’s former house. Her parents had invited pretty much all of their acquaintances while tommy had only invited his close relatives.

When night fell Tommy was more than ready to leave “Are you ready to go?” was one of the few sentences he uttered to his now wife that night.

She again offered him a smile before saying “yeah just let me say goodbye”

The drive to arrow house was tense, although Y/n didn’t know Thomas very well she would tell he was unhappy. She wondered about what to say to him, but couldn’t come up with anything good enough and soon enough they were pulling over in front of Tommy’s stately home.

“Charlie must already be asleep, but I'll introduce you tomorrow” he said opening Y/n’s door for her.

“It’s alright” she said looking at him, not quite knowing what to do next.

“Your parents sent some of your belongings, I've already asked the maids to take them up to your-our room” he said

“Thank you, Thomas” she smiled as she walked into the big house not yet feeling close enough to him to call him Tommy.

His name falling from her lips caused an echo of bittersweet emotions to stir inside him but he masked it perfectly well as she introduced Y/n to the maids that went to the door to take their coats.

“Frances here will show you the way to the room” he said after having made introductions.

“This way, Mrs” Frances politely said.

Y/n began following her but stopped when she didn’t hear Tommy’s footsteps behind her own.

“Are you not coming?” she asked turning to look at him.

“Maybe in a bit” was all he said before he walked away down one of the many spacious hallways of the house.

After Y/n made herself comfortable in the room and changed into her nightgown she took the time to peek around the room like one always does when one is a strange place. After familiarizing herself with it she laid down in the big bed. She was nervous, she knew what happened on wedding nights. A small chuckle stopped at her lips when she recalled the stories her close already married girlfriends told her. If she hadn’t married a complete stranger she too would be looking forward to it.

Her thoughts ended up luring her to sleep after a while despite her nerves and the night went by in a ridiculously fast flash. The next morning she woke up alone and after getting ready she made her way downstairs. Tommy and Charlie were already in the dining room when she entered it.

“good morning” she said

Charlie immediately turned his attention to her, his eyes widening while his dad merely glanced at her while he muttered a “Good morning “ of his own.

Y/n sat down next to Tommy while he cleared his throat “charles, this is Y/n. We got married yesterday so she’ll be living with us from now on”

Charlie merely nodded in understanding before playing around with his food.

A tense air flooded breakfast until Tommy stood up, having barely touched his food and spoke turning to look at Y/n “I have to go now, if you need anything feel free to ask Frances”

“Alright” Y/n replied feeling a bit disappointed, she would love to get to know him, but she already knew it was going to be difficult.

“I have to go too” Charlie announced in a timid voice, interrupting Y/n’s thoughts. Despite her disappointment she understood, maybe he was just shy and his dad just reticent. They had lost a wife and a mother after all.

The first few days after that, Charlie avoided her nearly as much as his father did and Y/n remained in lonely patience until one night Charlie’s cries interrupted her focus on the book that she had just bought. She rushed to his room and called out his name as she entered not knowing if the boy would be comfortable with her or not.

“What is it?” she asked worried as she knelt by his bed.

“I miss my mum” the boy confessed looking at her with teary eyes as he clutched his blanket.

Y/n felt her heart give a small ache at his confession and in an attempt to comfort him she spoke “She’s not really gone, you know?”

“She’s dead” the boy sobbed.

“but people who die, don’t leave us. Not really anyhow” she said hesitantly rubbing his arm. “just because we cant see them doesn’t mean they are not here”

“I miss seeing her” he continued.

“Oh but you can still see her”

“how”

“before you go to bed just think about her, then she’ll visit you in your dreams” Y/n spoke as if she was telling a fairy tale.

“really?” the boy’s eyes widened.

“really” Y/n confirmed “But you have to think really really hard”

“I’ll try” Charlie said having calmed down a bit.

“very well” Y/n said as she stood up, but Charlie’s voice stopped her.

“can you stay till I fall asleep?”

After that night, Charlie hardly left Y/n’s side and she felt much better with his company for she was sure if he wasn’t there keeping her on her toes all day she would fall into a depressive chasm induced by her husband’s absence.

On the rare moments he was home she tried to strike up conversation with him over breakfast or late at night when he came home and she was burdened by insomnia. But Tommy only humored her with a few short responses before excusing himself or turning to face the other side of the bed.

It wasn’t only the fact that he avoided her as much as he could, but he also made it a priority to exclude her at all times. She was never invited into family meetings or night’s at The Garrison so she thought it was a miracle when tommy didn’t oppose to her planning Charlie’s birthday party.

She invited only Tommy’s family which instantly warmed up to her, noticing what a good influence she was and Polly wanted to slap Thomas for the way he had been acting throughout his marriage to Y/n. Almost feeling guilty for getting her into this mess.

When the party ended Tommy shut himself in his office like he often did when he was at home and though he had never given Y/n a reason to believe she was welcome in there of all places, she found herself allowing herself in after putting Charlie to bed.

Tommy looked up as she entered and let out a sigh before turning his attention back to some papers he had been reading.

“I noticed you didn’t have any” she commented not letting his sigh deflate her as she laid a plate with a slice of homemade chocolate cake on his desk. “it’s really good if I may say so myself” she mused sitting down in a chair opposite to his as she dug in with a fork in her own slice.

“I don’t go in for sweets” he stated.

“Not even chocolate?” Y/n tried, but tommy didn’t answer, instead he just shook his head.

“I still think you should try it, it’s not overly sweet, and…”

“is there anything you need?” he interrupted bluntly a bit harsher than he would’ve liked.

His tone caught her off guard and when she couldn’t come up with an answer tommy again turned his attention back to his papers.

“I wish you could let me in” She softly confessed after a few tense seconds.

“Well I wish we hadn’t married but I guess things don’t always go the way we want them to go”

Tommy knew he had crossed a line by the silence that again settled into the room. He looked up at Y/n with her parted lips and misty eyes. They exchanged glances for a second but instead of allowing him to see her like that any longer, she stood up setting her plate on his desk and walked away, only allowing a few tears to drop by when she was out of the room and his sight.

After that she stopped trying to get closer to him. He still loved his late wife and she understood, people in grief never mean what they say after all, but his words stung nonetheless.

She stopped trying to wait for him at night to see if he had gotten home alright and during breakfast she only uttered polite good mornings.

One night however, Y/n was yanked out of a peaceful sleep by a loud crash. She was on her feet in no time and after checking into Charlie’s room to see if he was alright she cautiously ventured downstairs. A few incoherent mumbles filled her ears before her husband came into sight, fumbling with his coat to get it off.

“need help?” she asked earning his attention.

“I’m fine” he said finally taking it off but as he went to take a step to begin walking the floor under him moved and he lost his balance, his knees crashing loudly against the wooden floor.

Y/n offered him a hand and helped him up. He smelled of whiskey and cigarettes, his hands were shaky, consequence of the snow, no doubt. “let’s get you upstairs”

“I can do it on me own” he slurred letting go of her hand.

“stop being so stubborn” she derided, snaking one of her arms around his waist as she helped him upstairs.

Y/n helped him into bed, tookoff his shoes and went to the bathroom to fetch a small towel and some cold water.

She dampened the towel with the cold water before dabing it gently on Tommy’s forehead. His eyes never leaving her face as she did so, making her grow a bit nervous. She continued, trying her best to ignore it until she felt his hand softly caressing her cheek.

“You are beautiful” he rasped.

“Stop it, Thomas” she said feeling her cheeks grow red when she felt a bit sad that he had to be completely drunk to compliment her.

Even in his drunken state he seemed to notice he was making her uncomfortable so he held his tongue until Y/n laid in bed next to him after turning on the lights.

“I’m sorry” he interrupted the silence “For the way I’ve been acting” the whiskey and cocaine making him more vulnerable and open “I guess I was afraid that if I let you in then she would disappear”

He didn’t expect her to answer, but then her voice came in a soft exhausted tone“ I don’t intend to replace her. You don’t need to act all defensive and secretive. Even if it’s not what you wanted, we are married.”

“I Know” was all he said.

Y/n expected him to withdraw more from her after showing himself that vulnerable to her that night but she was wrong. He began arriving home earlier, sometimes even asking if he could come along on the walks she and Charlie so much adored going on. And Y/n finally felt her marriage was going somewhere maybe it wasn’t based on love yet, but it was something.

One day she was at the stables while Charlie was taking a nap. She had always adored horses.

“I didn’t know you liked horses” came Tommy’s smooth voice causing her to jump.

“You never asked” she smiled petting a black horse as he walked closer to her.

“We could go out for a ride, I’m sure Charlie wouldn’t mind letting you borrow his horse” Tommy offered as he too began to pet the horse, his fingers brushing against Y/n’s for a brief second.

“I’d love to, but I am afraid I don’t know how to ride, Tommy” she said, panicking for a second after having called him that. But she rested assured as soon as he spoke again.

“Well that can be fixed” he said opening the door of the stall and guiding the horse outside.

“You mean now?” Y/n asked with a laugh.

“Got something better to do?” he asked walking out of the stable with the horse. Y/n observed tommy as he prepared the horse. She had never seen him so gentle and calm before and she only realized she had been staring when Tommy directed his attention to her to ask her if she was ready.

“I think so” she said going to stand next to the horse wondering how the hell to climb up. But before she had any more time to think she felt Tommy’s hands on her waist giving her a push that allowed her to pull herself up on the animal. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear slacks that day, she thought.

“Goodness this is high” she said nervously looking down at Tommy when he began guiding the horse to move in a slow walk.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall” he promised repressing a mirthful tone at her nervousness.

He guided the horse with her around the property in the crisp evening air and Y/n allowed herself to relax with every step the horse took. Tommy’s presence made her feel safe and protected and she found it increasingly harder to look away from his figure. She wondered if he could feel her eyes on him.

When the sky began turning soft shades of purple and orange the pair returned to the stables. When the time came from Y/n to come down from the horse, tommy helped her again. Y/n began to love the feeling of him touching her and when her feet touched the ground in front of Thomas, he didn’t remove his hands from her waist right away and instead fixed his blue eyes on her, not wanting to stop looking at her.

She too fixed her eyes on Tommy as she felt a silent gasp in the base of her throat. That was the way she would’ve liked him to look at her on their wedding day. Tommy then leaned in, almost as if he were asking for permission before he tenderly pressed his lips to Y/n’s.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @peakyxtommy @nyotamalfoy @writeroutoftime @babylooneytoonz @slytherinicequeen @lilymurphy03

[flightless-rising]

Made a new Flight Rising iceberg and also wrote an explanation.. man, this took way longer than it should have.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy :D

Iceberg explanation

( If there are any mistakes please let me know and I’ll edit this asap. Also, English isn't my first language so please forgive me for any grammatical errors)

EDIT 28/06: Added some new info! Thanks to everyone who tagged and responded with new stuff to add, I really appreciate it!

The Sky

Naomi

Back in the day, whenever you bought or sold something on the auction house a message would show up in your inbox confirming the transaction. These messages were sent by one of the dragon couriers: Pearl, Spitfire or Edgar.

On January 2016, a strange glitch occurred that replaced the images and names of couriers with the ones of a female fae named “Naomi”.

It goes deeper than that, though: if you looked up her name in the user search menu, a clan would pop up with over 15 million dragons.

It was quickly discovered that all exalted dragons had somehow become part of her clan. Naomi herself apparently didn’t exist, and clicking on her page redirected to an error page. This was later fixed and the original Naomi page can be now visited.

What exactly caused this glitch is still a mystery and today Naomi is still a well-known piece of Flight Rising history.

Missing Tidelord

In the official lore, the deity of the water flight disappeared in early 2018, as described in the short story “Hear Today, Gone Tomorrow”.

In the follow up story (Mixed Elements) posted in April of the next year it is confirmed that the Tidelord is still missing, but alive. This coincides with the fact that the Tidelord account hasn’t made any forum posts aside from festival announcements.

Emperors

Emperors are a type of unobtainable dragon that are formed when several Imperial corpses are left in close proximity to each other, which then fuse forming a multi-headed chimera.

Emperors are described in the lore as having an animal-like behavior and destroying everything in sight. They are extremely difficult to kill, which is the reason why in-universe Imperials have such strange burial rites.

An emperor named Luminax is first described in the Raising a Family short story, and their sprite can be seen walking around on the world map.

The Surface

Old color wheel

Originally, there were only 67 available colors for dragons. On June 8th 2016, 110 more colors were added, meaning that currently there are a total of 177 colors available.

When making a custom progenitor dragon, it is only possible to choose among the 67 original colors because it would be otherwise unfair for those who made their account before the new colors were added.

Imperial breed scrolls

Imperial breed change scrolls are one of, if not the most, rare type of item on the site. They were given only to those who pledged 30 dollars or more on the original Flight Rising kickstarter.

At the time, this was the only way of obtaining an Imperial dragon, which meant that the breed as a whole was pretty valuable. Now that Imperials are abundant this is no longer the case, but First generation Imperials are still extremely sought and probably the most expensive type of dragon on the site.

There were also other items that were only given to Kickstarted backers, namely Skycats, Bonefiend, Golden Idol and Cogfrog familiars, and those are also pretty much impossible to obtain.

Baldwin breed change

When Baldwin was introduced in 2015 he was originally a Pearlcatcher. On September 14th of 2016 however his site art started to gradually change, until his transformation was completed five days later.

In-universe, Baldwin started to change after a lightning strike hit his cauldron during an experiment, which made him slowly mutate into the breed we now know as Bogsneaks.

Trans Fiona

When Fiona was added as a trading post dragon people speculated that she was trans, because the female pose for Skydancers only displays two antennae, while the male one has four.

Since Fiona has four antennae in her site art, many wondered whether it was an oversight or actually intended. Aequorin later confirmed in a forum thread that Fiona is indeed trans.

Boolean

Speaking of rare items, the Boolean familiar was only given to a handful of Flight rising beta testers and as such is extremely rare and valuable.

Plaguebringer coli team

On the Plaguebringer’s page she is listed as being part of a coliseum team.

As of now we have no clue as to why this is, and even more strangely she is the only deity that does this.

Boston & Hope

This story is a bit complicated. I’ve scoured the forums in search of info but it seems like there are still some pieces missing. I’ll try my best to explain anyway.

So, for a long while the Lightweaver was the only deity that had other dragons aside from herself in her lair: these dragons were a Spiral named Boston and a Tundra named Hope. Strangely, they were both Earth dragons and apparently have been there since the beginning (?). When asked why (this happened back when deities would interact on the forums) the Lightweaver responded that they were having a dinner party together.

In August 2014 during a pretty heated dominance battle between Shadow and Light Boston and Hope disappeared from the Lightweaver’s lair.

The Shadowbinder now had them, and both their elements were alsochanged to Shadow. The two deities acknowledged this and changed their broadcast messages accordingly.

If I had to guess this was some kind of inside joke that the admins had, although some people got angry that the Shadowbinder now had both Hope and Boston. Some time later(?) Boston was returned to the Lightweaver and for some reason his element was changed to wind.

I don’t have any more info on the matter but if some of you do I would appreciate it if you tell me.

Shallow Waters

Eyepocalypse

On June 8th 2018 eye type variants were introduced. This update was pretty controversial for a bunch of reasons, and the topic is still discussed today. The majority of people(?) seemed to be upset by the fact the “best” eye types (primarily goat, primal and multi-gaze) could only be displayed on dragons that were born with them, and the fact that every dragon born prior to the update couldn’t have these eye types at all displeased a lot of users.

Another problem was the fact that most of the non-special eye types (i.e the only ones that could be applied to already existing dragons using a vial of Scattersight) were not clearly visible on the grand majority of adult dragons.

A smaller(?) complaint was that two of the primal eye types, Shadow and Plague, were seen as kind of disturbing by some people.

Three years later staff attempted to fix this issue by adding Eye type vials for every available eye type. This resulted in a market crash for special eye typed dragons, as now these eye types could be applied to any dragon. The value of Scattersights also tanked, and the people bought them and hadn’t used them yet lost money as now they were infinitely less useful.

EDIT 28/06: Goat isn’t actually obtainable via breeding, faceted is. Bad mistake on my part.

Also, Scattersights were given away freely by Galore on Flight Rising’s fifth anniversary in 2018 and could not be bought afterwards. I admit that I thought people could be able to buy Scattersights due to how upset people were that the value went down, but whatever.

Courier Breed

The courier dragons (Edgar, Spitfire, and Pearl) are part of an exclusive dragon breed that is currently unobtainable. Even though their eye color still reflects the flight they were born in, in-universe they are considered to be “neutral” and they are granted free access to all domains. This raises the question as to which deity created them, as every other dragon breed (Bogsneaks being the only exception) has been created by one of The Eleven.

Multiaccounting

According to the site’s terms of service, no one is allowed to have more than one account. This is pretty standard for pet sites, as having multiple accounts grants unfair advantages and can mess up the site economy. This doesn’t completely stop people for having more than one account, and the practice as a whole is called “Multiaccounting” or “having multis”.

Some people only do this to have multiple clans or reboot their account without deleting their old one. They mostly do no harm but it is reasonable that the site wouldn’t allow this because of how easy it is exploit.

The real harm of multis comes from a practice called “funneling” which is when someone creates multiple accounts only for the purpose of giving items to their main account. This practice violates the game’s rules and can result in a ban. Funneling is not limited to multiaccounting though, and having an account only to feed another is against the site’s rules whether or not the account in question belongs to another person or not.

Some people fear of being banned for multiaccounting even if they haven’t done so, especially if they share a computer with other people.

Purble

“he purble” is probably among the most famous Flight Rising memes.

In 2016(?) a rant was submitted to the original Dramarising blog by a very angry user that wanted to buy an XXX Purple Ridgeback back when triples were pretty expensive, but got beat by someone else.

I’m not going to copy paste it here because in my opinion it’s one of the funniest Flight Rising related posts ever and I don’t want to spoil the experience of reading it for the first time. You can find it pretty easily by searching it up.

Tert Picking

This is something that refaced recently, even though I’ve seen people talking about this for a while. Some people vividly remember being able to pick their custom progenitor’s tertiary color, even though the developers have made it clear that such thing would be impossible. This is without a doubt just one of those weird situations where a lot of people somehow remember the same thing wrong.

Still, it’s fascinating just how many people claim to remember doing picking their tert.

Swiftwings

Swiftwings were a dragon breed that was scrapped in development. The design was rejected because it didn’t fit the 2 arms 2 legs 2 wings format that every dragon design had to follow before the introduction of ancient breeds.

The reason for this rule is that otherwise it would mess up apparel placement. Although the concept was scrapped, echoes of the design were scattered throughout the site: for example, the empty dragon slots that were present prior to 2019 had the silhouette of a Swiftwings dragon. They are also mentioned in the April Fool’s update of 2018.

“Real” Lore dragons

Most people don’t know that some of the dragons featured on the lore stories are actually real, and you can visit their pages. This is the case for Tetra, Cracklinne, Velya, Liefa, Garote and Mirth, which are currently chilling in Aequorin’s lair.

All of the other dragons in the developers’ lairs are not canon and are used to test bugs and features on the site.

The Middle ground

True deity names

When the site first started the deities used to have actual names instead of titles. Some of these names were based off of the site founders’s usernames on other sites.

The names are the following:

Amogayvhi - Gladekeeper Xhaztol - Arcanist Rhenik - Tidelord Akiri - Flamecaller Thrage - Stormcatcher Undel - Shadowbinder Jhortanas - Plaguebringer Ghurab - Windsinger Artaios - Earthshaker Rhiow – Lightweaver

As you can tell, Xhaztol, Akiri, Thrage and Undel are the usernames of some of the admins of the site, and the flight they are a part of corresponds with the previous name of their deity.

No leg coatls

On January 16, 2015 an iconic thread was posted in the flight rising discussion forum, which displayed a photoshopped image of a coatl with its legs removed. Quickly the thread devolved into a general photoshop thread were people took official site art of dragons and modified it.

The thread was eventually locked due to spam and quote pyramids, but spiritual successors of the original “phoatlshop” thread still exist today.

Dress slot unlocking

A thing that a surprising amount of people don’t know is the fact that when buy an additional apparel slot, the slot opens for every dragon in your lair and not just the one you bought it on.

This is something I also discovered very recently and it’s kind of funny that so many people that have been on the site for very long don’t know this.

Clanbound scatterscrolls

I think the wiki explains it best, so I’ll just copy paste this here:

“Tri-Color Scatterscrolls suffered from an issue where they would only scatter a random range from colors 1-47 (white through sunshine) rather than 1-67 (white through rose). They have been fixed and are now functioning correctly with a random range within the 67 color set. The affected timeframe was from August 15th, 2013 until September 22nd, 2013. The admins allowed users who were unsatisfied with their bugged Tri-Color Scatterscrolls to receive the same amount of them back in the form of Clanbound Scatterscrolls to try scattering their own dragons again with the full color range.”

Beta Mirrors

Ever wondered why they’re called Mirrors?

According to Undel, the main artist of Flight Rising, mirrors originally were supposed to have every part of their body “mirrored”, meaning they had two sets of eyes, two pairs of wings, two tails, and so on.

This design ended up being too cluttered and looked weird shrunken down. The name was kept the same, even though the only mirrored part of the design are the eyes.

Dragons are evil

If you read the “Beastclans on the rise” lore bit, the dragons come across as… very evil, stealing territory from the beastclans when they have been living on Sornieth way longer than the dragons have and killing them for loot.

Furthermore, in the Bounty of the Elements lore bit the Beastclan rebellion guided by Talona is seen by the dragons as unreasonable and wrong even when in canon Beastclans are framed as the innocent party.

The Depths

Scroll of Divorce

In the alpha stage dragons were supposed to be monogamous and could only breed with the dragon they were “paired” with. To break their bond you had to use an item called “Scroll of Divorce” which even featured broken marriage rings in the art.

If I had to guess, this item and the concept as a whole were scrapped because the idea of dragons having “weddings” and needing to divorce before breeding with another dragon felt kind of weird, especially in a game targeted towards teens.

First Festival

The first Holiday festival in Flight rising history was the 2013 Brightshine Jubilee. The items that were available for this festival only are incredibly rare, particularily the Light Sprite which is one of the most valuable items on the site. Apart from that and the fact that the skincent contest only had 6 winners, not much is notable about it.

Offsite drama

Flight Rising has had its fair share of drama both on and off site, but due to the fact that it’s against the site’s rule to discuss user drama on the forums most of the notable drama happened off site (mainly tumblr).

Egg rot

Egg rot was a very early mechanic that was pretty quickly removed from the site. If you forgot to incubate your eggs, they would “rot” and no longer hatch.

It’s the reason why in the nesting grounds the text reads “Eggs healthy” and also the reason why on the stats section of the Account settings it says “Eggs discarded”. The mechanic was removed because it heavily punished casual players and the frequent downtimes of the site meant that even if someone logged in every day they could still have their eggs die.

Also, the images of egg rot look extremely cursed.

Pablo

From what I could gather, Pablo is a dragon which became somewhat popular after user “Desmondtiny” wrote a very long and detailed backstory of them being the Arcanist’s lost boyfriend.

I’m pretty sure it gues deeper than that but I couldn’t find any further information. As usual, if you know something more let me know.

Latest News

On November 12, 2014, a glitch(?) occurred that let anyone post in the Announcements thread. Anything that was posted went directly to the front page, which resulted in quite a bit of chaos.

This was fixed only half an hour later, but the screenshots people have from that time are extremely funny.

Lameforger

On the 2014 Flameforger’s festival announcement Undel accidentally misspelled “Flameforger” as “Lameforger”, which prompted the official account of the Flamecaller to respond aggressively. Lameforger is still jokingly used by users, even after the typo was fixed.

Festival of one (1)

On the first day of the 2014 Greenskeeper Gathering a glitch occurred which switched the site banner for the Starfall celebration banner instead of the Greenskeeper one.

It didn’t end there, in the coliseum Magical shards dropped instead of Bladed Flatleaves, even though skin chests dropped as normal(?).

The weirdest thing about it all was Joxar’s Space inventory, which didn’t display any items at all and had glitched dialogue.

The event was nicknamed by the fanbase “Festival of 1” and even the deity’s official accounts acknowledged the incident.

Vape Juice

As far as I know the original forum thread as been lost, but the vape juice fiasco will always remain cemented in Flight Rising History.

A company called Vape Daugz was making vape juice with Flight Rising dragons plastered on their packaging, completely violating the site’s policy.

The company’s site still exists, and browsing through their products I found that the products that previously had Flight Rising dragons on them still exist, but now feature completely different packaging.

I have no idea whether they changed the packaging spontaneously or staff did something about it.

I think there’s a potentially interesting story buried down there, but we’ll likely never the truth behind the Flight Rising vape juice.

The Abyss

Humans

There’s been some speculation over the years as to whether or not humans are canon in the Flight Rising universe. Some people believe that the “Mages” of the second age in the official lore are actually humans, but we can’t be sure because they are depicted with long robes that cover their whole bodies.

The idea of humans existing in canon has spawned a couple of memes, most infamously Thomas.

Plague healers

Again, I think the wiki explains this one better:

“According to Aequorin, Plague healers are an interesting bunch because rather than administer treatments that counter illness, they use a mixture of magic and contagion that stress the affected dragon further, allowing them to reach a stronger, healed, and resistant state faster than other elements. Plague healers will treat physical injuries with sutures, bandages, and braces, but they won't clean the wounds or apply ointments."

Akitla

As described in the original thread, Akitla was a dragon that user “qunii” saw on the front page, but noticed that she wasn’t accompanied by the username of the person owning them.

After clicking on her, an error page loaded. It was discovered that putting her color combination or ID in the search bar would result in an error page. This was later fixed, and both Akitla and her mate were now displayed as being exalted to the Arcanist. T

here are some theories as to what happened to the Akitla’s user, some think that she belonged to a deleted account, others that it was the result of an incomplete account creation.

As with a lot of things on this iceberg, it will likely remain a mystery forever.

Arcane sprite book

“what is the arcane sprite reading??” is probably one of the oldest still active threads on the forums.

On September 25, 2013 user “Kaadashi” started a joke thread were they wondered what exactly is the arcane sprite reading, and playfully suggested that it could be erotic fanfiction. People went crazy of course, and started to wonder what kind of juicy secrets were hidden within the pages of that book.

I don’t want to say too much because I really don’t want to spoil the experience of reading through this very cursed tread.

Sunshine

Sunshine is one of the most… interesting lairs on the site, and certainly one of the most well-known.

They(?) have a lair (almost) completely full of triple basic sunshine dragons, most of which are Tundras. So far they have collected about 320 triple hundred Sunshine dragons, almost all of which are also named “Sunshine”. They’re not all the same, some of them have apparel, some of them are gened and some have unique art and descriptions.

They’re dedicated and I respect that.

EDIT 28/06: Apparently some people seem to think that the sunshine-dedicated lair is based on a meme concerning the announcement of the color wheel expansion, which became so discussed that the itself site broke. The two things are unrelated however, as the Sunshine lair has been around for much longer.

The announcement of the color wheel expansion was cryptic, with only a few post showing off differently colored coatls and then 3 pages of reserved posts, with no explanation whatsoever.

Simple Farmer

Another very famous thread is the “I am but a simple farmer” thread started by user “someKindOfGenius”. It’s not really about anything specific, it’s just a rather silly thread were people photoshop flight rising dragons onto various crops.

Still, this thread is iconic so I had to include it.

Dragon Deaths

Way back in 2014 former flight rising programmer Thrage revealed on a forum thread that way back before the beta, dragons could actually starve to death if left unfed.

Yep.

Obviously they had to remove this mechanic because it would have been extremely harsh to casual players and make people frustrated with the game.

Zalvador

User “manojalpa” became fairly well-known for the extremely dark lore they(?) had written for their Clan, it was so dark in fact that every single one of their dragon’s bios had to moved to their tumblr where they couldn’t be easily seen by the site’s mainly underage usebase.

Their lore centered around their progen dragon, a tundra named Zalvador, which behaved and had the same powers as a flight rising user: buying dragons off of the action house, having “breeding projects”, exalting dragons, etc.

These things seem pretty normal when done by a player, but when taking them as actual real things that happen in universe… yeah, it was way too morbid for the site.

The Pit

Black linen neck wraps

For some weird reason, the apparel piece “Black linen neck wrap” when put on a male pose Coatl wraps around the dragon’s throat instead of it’s neck. It’s kind of subtle and hard to see, but if you compare it with the female pose the difference is clear. This is probably just an art error, although it’s weird that it hasn’t been fixed yet, since linen wraps are a very old piece of apparel.

Another weird thing about linen wraps in general is that the wing wraps just sort of… go through the membrane? This is not possible. These dragons are in pain.

Icewarden ears

Another very remarkably popular thread is the Icewarden ears thread.

In 2014 user “Llanai” simply makes note of the fact that the Icewarden has teeny tiny ears.

As we have come to expect from these threads, it quickly devolved into nonsense.

Forbidden Snapper lore

Snappers used to have a way different lore section that was changed because it deemed too similar to the lore of another petsite.

This is what the original section read:

"Snapper dragons do not sleep, but exist in a constant state of reverie. They receive and catalogue all experiences and stories told within their dreams. This persistent state of awakened dreaming awards them the longest memory of any dragon species. They are living encyclopedias, and any dragon who is seeking difficult-to-obtain information will have the most luck unearthing it from a Snapper clan - provided they have the patience for it. If you want two dozen quick answers, talk to a spiral. If you want a fully developed answer, camp out around a Snapper. These dreamers move at their own pace, which varies from dragon to dragon. For some, the awakened dream can prove to be more interesting than their surroundings. This leads to a focus upon the dream, and the waking world as filtered background noise. Interacting with these sleepwalkers can be a trying and repetitive task. Other Snappers may be fairly lucid, with a focus upon their surroundings and the constant hum of the dream pushed aside."

Bee movie script

I’ve seen this story around the forums a few times but I’ve never been able to learn the details.

From what I’ve heard someone copy pasted the entire bee movie script into their clan bio in a drop down text format, which completely broke the page for anyone who visited it. This was fixed, apparently, although I have no clue as to who this user is.

EDIT 28/06: Zeus

Zeus is an XXX gold g1 permababy imperial that used to belong to user "happywing".

Their account is now locked because Zeus was created with the use of a duplication glitch on an imperial breed change scroll, which is obviously not allowed (although I've heard some people say that the dragon was hacked in altogether). Before the account was locked, people speculated that Zeus was the most valuable dragon on the site, because an XXX g1 imperial is impossibly rare.

Wegg shaming

On July 2017 user “Dreamnorn” made a thread were they(?) claimed to have a dream where everything was the same except people used the term “wegged” when two dragons would lay only one egg in a nest.

Ex. Aw man! I’ve been wegged again! = Aw man! I bred two dragons and they only had one egg!

The dream ended up being prophetic, as the term catched on and people started to use it unironically.

The practice of “Wegg shaming” I think refers to the trend of people posting pictures of the dragons that “wegged” them in order to “shame” them.

Plague nest skull

The site art of the plague nest features an unique dragon skull that doesn’t match with any currently existing dragon breed or creature: It appears to have two sets of eyes, like a mirror, but also long and curled horns.

It’s probably just for decoration and it likely doesn’t have any significance whatsoever, but personally I believe it would be pretty cool if when they eventually release plague ancient it at least somewhat resembled this skull.

EDIT 28/06: On second thought, the skull doesn’t seem to have two pairs of eyes, It just has the generic shape of a carnivore.

Rock bottom

CAPTAINPLANET

…this is CAPTAINPLANET. Somehow, user “Decres”' managed to overlay a Fae skin on top of a Tundra, creating this horrifyingly fascinating abomination.

I have no idea how she did this, and she seems pretty adamant to tell.

EDIT 28/06: People have pointed out that this skin overlay glitch was actually somewhat common (although I still haven't found another dragon like CAPTAINPLANET). What you had to do was breed change a dragon while attaching a skin to them in another tab.

This glitch has been patched and such thing is no longer possible.

Lair 46264

A cursed lair.

Dreams

I’ve seen a lot of people, both on forums and on Tumblr, sharing dreams they had about Flight Rising.

A lot of people dream of just being on the site, while occasionally weird things happen.

I’ve read of people who dreamed the distribution of a new breed, buying an exclusive item, a new Fiona feat or Swipp trade, or just browsing the forums.

The most common type of Flight rising-associated dream I’ve seen however is being caught multiaccounting and having their account banned.

I’m no psychoanalyst, but I think it’s pretty clear that these nightmares stem from the paranoia of being banned from their beloved petsite instead of showing any actual intention of doing the “crime” in question.

Anyways, I think it’s fascinating how so many people dream about this site, and it reminds me of the dreams people claimed to have about Mario 64 where completely new levels were added or a scary monster appeared.

Dragon Slime

Dragon Slime was an infamous thread which was supposed to be start off point for an ARG.

It was deleted because it was considered too “spammy” and also because ARGs are banned from the forums. The thread has been lost, unfortunately.

EDIT 28/06: Thanks to @randompurple-fr for providing screenshots of the dragon slime tutorial! You can find them here

Cucumber

Cucumber is the only dragon ever to have been exalted with a skin, which is something that should not be possible. This raises some questions as to what exactly did the person that exalted them do to achieve this, but we have no way of knowing who Cucumber belonged to.

EDIT 28/06: Actually, we do know who used to Cucumber belonged to! Its owner was Osiem: an official flight rising artist. I couldn’t find the thread where they(?) acknowledged the glitch though, if someone has it please let me know!

[jesuisgourde]

there’s that one segment of an interview in molotov cocktails zine which was published in december 94 but as far as i can tell the interview occurred during glasto at the end of june 94 and like richey is a) clearly in a bad mood/bad place and b) obviously mentally a disaster and literally less than a month away from a breakdown, but taking a step back and looking at what he’s saying is actually really interesting.

the interviewer keeps asking him about like individual political movements or activist things and stuff like that and he keeps throwing it back and it’s really fascinating because it’s not that he doesn’t agree with it outright

but he keeps talking big-picture when the interviewer is more zoomed in on more manageable aspects. it’s obvious richey’s not interested in looking at one thing at a time, he’s so goddamn zoomed out he’s looking at the big picture from space and it’s too big. like, he keeps talking in greys and nuances, saying he hates it when people make easy solutions, and saying x or y charitable cause or movement is pretty much useless because it only addresses a fraction of a problem. he talks about how individual choices in terms of activism mean nothing because the little people don’t have as much influence as the rich and powerful and/or they’re so affected by poverty they can’t participate in certain things (like buying organic veg). it’s like he’s so zoomed out that the only way he can imagine solving the world’s problems is by finding some sort of universal solution that fixes everything at once (or at least many things at once), but that’s impossible, but he can’t seem to zoom back in and see how smaller actions build upon each other. he can only see the way that when looking at the big picture which is more grey and nuanced, the smaller actions seem to be acting in black and white. which is not true but would look that way if you were too zoomed out.

nicky’s comment about the pulitzer prize is so applicable here. like this wt book keeps talking about how richey did all this stuff because he wanted to secure himself in rock n roll mythology but reading this interview it seems far less about the music industry and more like richey wanting to take on history and current events and his own knowledge and Solve Them all by himself not for the rock n roll myth (as in, music myth) but to make an impression on the world and a statement in general about being “above nature.” especially because he seems to imply that only science can make a worldwide impact while the person is still living, and lumps other bands like take that in with the immediate but shallow impact of culture (sex and violence) and seems to lump himself or the manics in with delayed impact of art (death). the “above nature” comment is also interesting in context with his simon price interview from november 1994 where he talks about self-harm as control of mind over body and his suicide attempt as the failure of his body to be as strong as his mind (although in part i think that was him being deliberately vague because he didn’t want people to know what happened).

really looking at the lyrics for jfpl and the little journal/manifesto tidbits in the deluxe edition plus the few other scraps that have been made available over the years and the way everything is so compounded in all those words like he’s trying to condense so much stuff onto one page and in so few words, it really seems like he mentally bit off more than he could chew. not about trying to be a rock myth or whatever more like trying to somehow conquer modernity.

[the-last-kenobi]

I... don’t have a reason for this one. it’s been sitting in my drafts for months so here we go.

_-_-_

Pale tiled floors, shining from regular cleanings and scattered with a few mismatched rugs in warm, rustic tones, each one made from different fibers and threads, each one showing signs of wear.

A long window, curtained over with sheer fabric that still permitted the light of dawn to suffuse the room. It filtered lazily over the furniture, just as mismatched and well-loved as the rugs, and the less tidy kitchen, a grey pot still spattered with an orange sauce left absent-mindedly on the stovetop.

A pair of boots discarded sloppily in the small space before the entry door. Large, mud-spotted, scuffed — Qui-Gon’s, abandoned in a fit of sarcastic humor when he kicked them off the afternoon before, returning at last from a months-long mission.

A book, an actual paperbacked edition with edges made soft by use, by fingers lovingly and unthinkingly caressing the ridges and the binding, lying on the side table next to the coziest chair — Obi-Wan’s, deliberately set aside late last night when he realized he’d been reading much longer than he’d meant to.

Now, just after dawn, it was not surprising that the Master was the first to wake.

Qui-Gon exited his own room and paused in the common area, drinking in the familiarity, eyeing the book with knowing amusement. He went to the window and with what some of the crankier Masters would have called flagrant laziness, waved his hand and let the Force gently part the curtains.

It was not much brighter without them; they were sheer as it was and the smoggy vista this morning did not allow for much sun.

Still, sunshine was sunshine, polluted or not, and Qui-Gon relaxed as it washed over him, barefoot and still wearing his nightclothes under an old robe that had grown so ratty he had cleaned it and resigned it to the realm of comfort clothing.

He looked at the book again and smirked, shaking his head; as he walked past it towards the other door in the room, he ran a finger over the cover, feeling the ridges of the embossed title. Still, he thought, no excuses. I warned him we’d begin today with meditation. He can sleep in tomorrow.

“Obi-Wan,” he said, and opened the door to the boy’s room, a smaller and more cramped version of his own.

The light was greyer, here; the sunlight didn’t quite cross the threshold, and the solar-lamp on the desk was unlit. Shadows played with his eyes for a moment, and then Qui-Gon focused on the form on the bed, folded messily in the soft white sheets, curled on one side with one arm tucked beneath the pillow and the other dangling off the side of the bed.

“Obi-Wan,” he said again, cheerfully speaking with totally unnecessary volume. “Good morning.”

No response.

Snorting quietly, Qui-Gon approached the bed, reaching down to ignite the lamp as he did.

Golden light spilled out, and Obi-Wan’s soft golden-red hair burned like fire in response. Still, he slept on, his face turned towards his pillow and the sheets half-covering his cheek and nose.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, exasperated now. “Good morning.”

He tugged on the braid that he had helped retie less than twelve hours ago, and Obi-Wan’s head twitched on the pillow as he was pulled, but the boy didn’t even blink.

“Star’s sake,” mumbled Qui-Gon, and pulled harder.

Obi-Wan’s whole head turned, his neck limp and unresisting at that mild tug, and the stark white face with its closed eyes and slack lips stared upwards, completely still.

Qui-Gon’s soul felt like it had lurched right out of his body.

He collapsed on his knees on the bed, kneeling over his apprentice, hands moving to frame the pale face and finding cool, stiff skin without a trace of the grouchy blush the poorly rested teenager would have given him any other day.

Frantic, Qui-Gon’s hands searched for a puff of warm breath from the open lips, for a heartbeat from the chest, for a pulse in the limp wrist that still dangled inches from the floor.

But there was nothing.

Qui-Gon shook his head wildly, lifting Obi-Wan’s head from the pillow, trying to make him sit up. The boy rolled limply in his arms and hung there like a rag doll, his face pressed against his Master’s overly worn robe, unknowing and uncaring of how awkwardly he was being held.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon tried to say again, but this time it came out stretched and broken, wavering like a child’s uncertain attempt at handwriting. More of a moan than spoken word. “Obi...Obi-Wan? No, no, no no no...” Begging, denying.

He’d do anything—

Obi-Wan was twenty. Twenty. Young, healthy, a few years at most from Knighthood, which was only the beginning. He was strong and well-trained and he had laughed when Qui-Gon left his boots on the floor last night and shaken his head, saying he was going to stay up and read and have to deal with that eyesore in his peripherals all evening, and he’d smiled when Qui-Gon reached over to tug on the Padawan braid and added a casual, paternal caress of the thumb across the freckled cheek as he did, and —

“Obi-Wan, wake up,” he begged his Padawan, pulling the boy closer, bowing his own head down to touch the slumped shoulder. “Please come back. I don’t understand. I don’t — Obi-Wan. Please.”

The words devolved into hyperventilating breaths, which turned into ragged sobs, which turned into... a blur.

A comm call. Someone asking him to breathe. Hands separating him from his Padawan. Someone he didn’t know casually moving the boots out of the way, as if they didn’t matter, as if they weren’t there so Obi-Wan could laugh at them again. Being led to the Halls. Questions being asked of him. Condolences being offered. Again and again. And again.

“A heart problem,” a distant voice saying. “Insignificant enough that it wasn’t picked up on. We think he had a startling vision, or a bad dream, and his heart-rate spiked but his breathing didn’t match it.”

“A small heart problem,” they said.

“Rare,” they said.

“Might never have caused problems, except...” they said.

“I’m so sorry,” they said.

But nothing they said was making anything make more sense, nothing they said was making reality any less nightmarish.

Obi-Wan was twenty.

He was supposed to wake up grumpy and meditate with him, he was supposed to make the tea because he liked to make the tea, and he was supposed to laugh about the boots while Qui-Gon teased him about his book.

He was not supposed to go into cardiac arrest in his sleep because his heart and his lungs weren’t working together as they should have.

He was not supposed to die.

“I would have felt it,” he heard himself say weakly. “I would have sensed it.”

“We’re not all-knowing,” Mace’s voice said heavily. Had he been talking to Mace? He supposed he must have been, but then he stopped caring and tuned the rest of the conversation out.

Then Qui-Gon was standing in the common area again, fixated on the book, well-loved, gently used, waiting patiently on the side table next to the coziest chair — because Qui-Gon preferred the sofa or the floor cushions, and because Obi-Wan liked to cross his legs and dangle them over the arm and he had been doing that since he was thirteen and lonely and still bearing bruises from when he’d been kidnapped and enslaved when he should have had a Master to protect him, and so that chair was Obi-Wan’s, really, just his — and the book was waiting and waiting and it was going to wait forever.

And that did it.

The boots, shoved aside, unremarked.

The book, waiting innocently on the table.

Obi-Wan was gone, and wouldn’t be coming back. Despite the dawn, despite the chair that was understood silently to be his, despite the promises of early meditation, despite the affection in the touch across his cheek, despite the boots waiting to be smiled at, despite the book waiting to be read again, despite a Master’s protection — a Master’s love —

Obi-Wan had been stolen away again, this time for good, and everything, everything was as ashes.

Qui-Gon stood rooted to the spot and watched the night pass and a new dawn creep up on its heels, hoping for golden light that would chase away some of the cold.

But the light was grey this morning, and he was alone.

Qui-Gon blinked aching eyes, feeling dried tears across the lids as he did. The lights hurt, and he groaned, turning away.

A face slid into view above him as at the same time two gentle hands held his head still, examining his face, and Qui-Gon froze, staring up at the person holding him.

He tried to speak, but he couldn’t, his throat swollen and throbbing from abuse.

“Shhhh,” said Obi-Wan, his face pinched with concern. “Go back to sleep, Master. You’ve been drugged. It’s almost over. I’ve got you. The Healers say you’ll be all right. Go back to sleep.”

Qui-Gon reached up, straining impossibly just to make his shaking hand obey him, and felt his callused fingers glide across the young, sun-freckled cheek, felt warmth and saw a dimple appear as Obi-Wan smiled down at him.

“Shhh,” said Obi-Wan again. “You’ve been dreaming something awful, I think. Nobody has hurt you, Master, you’re all right.”

“So...are you,” Qui-Gon rasped, his voice thin and unfamiliar to his own ears.

A strange look crossed the boy’s face, like realization and confusion all at once. Still, he nodded, and lowered his head down to rest his forehead briefly against his teacher’s. “I’m all right, Master. It was only a dream.”

_-_-_

[20dollarlolita]

Abusing all of the modules of MySewNet Platinum to make patches in a way far from how the makers intended:

(This is an embroidery software tutorial. MSNP is on the more expensive side if you look at buying the software outright, but if you're doing the subscription thing it's actually a lot less, so I don't actually feel as bad about putting a tutorial about a really pricey software on my sewing blog as I think I maybe should)

Most people shopping in my store buy Platinum for the digitizer, but Platinum is actually more like Adobe Creative Suite in that it's like 25 programs that work together. So here's me using other modules to make my life easier.

part 1 is to go into digitizing and do whatever you want there. Everyone at my store really pushes the digitizer, so I'm assuming that most people who get this software already kind of have an idea on digitizing. This is a cat-themed nightmare of a circle, but it's what we're using.

You can also just use a premade design or a SuperDesign if you want.

You can make whatever you want, as long as it'll fit on your patch. Oh, also, knowing how big your patch will be is kind of important. Make your design a little smaller than that.

Get that into the embroidery module and fix your colors. This is also where I get it into the hoop that's the size I want it to be. I'm making a lot of patches, so I want to use my big hoop.

Grab the Project in the Hoop generator, select coaster, and then pick a blank one in the shape you want your patch to be in.

Center your design in the coaster (the generator will make the project in the hoop directly in the center of your canvas, so you can just click your design and hit "center in hoop") and drag it so that it's on top of the coaster and visible. Ungroup the coaster group it generated.

The coaster is made of two shapes. One is the main shape, and one is the final stitching line. You need to stick your design between these two layers. Then, group these three things together into one group.

NOTE: If you want to get fancy with your stop commands, do that before you duplicate the coasters. If you convert each applique stop to a color change, you can do the applique a bit faster. I forgot to do that, so we're just going to do applique the boring way.

Duplicate this group however many times you need to fill your hoop. Stick one in each corner of the hoop.

I'm making 10 here, so I select the two in the top corners, and then three more. It can be any three, as long as I have those top two corners.

Then, go into alignment, and align them all to the top. After that, hit "distribute horizontally", and they'll all line up nice and neat. Do that with the bottom row, and you've saved yourself a ton of attempting to re-arrange them.

Mine were touching when I did this, so I had to go in and delete two of them. Again, I can delete one from the top row (not a corner), and one from the bottom row (again, not a corner), and then distribute horizontally. I've found that a ton of people don't take advantage of that distribute tool.

Now, if we select the entire thing, we will see that it's 40 color blocks. This will have the machine make one coaster at a time, and we'll need to stop what we're doing to go add applique fabric for each piece individually. I don't have time for that, so let's color sort. Combine the entire thing into one, go for color sort, and then it'll drop down into a perfectly manageable five color blocks.

Now, go into the stitch editor and grab your design separator. Select one of your patches and divide it out from the rest of the design. Once you're back in embroidery editing, you can make sure that your separated patch is going to stitch out first.

This is important, because if there is any major flaw with your design, you want to catch it BEFORE it sews the ground work for every patch. It'll save you a lot of applique fabric and thread.

(If there is a major flaw and the first patch is a botch, fix the other 7, and then delete the bad one, without moving any other parts of the design. You can then stick the same hoop in the machine, and it'll ignore your botch one and sew the remaining 7. You might want to grab the design separator and single one off, like you did with this, to make sure that version 2 is okay).

Hoop some shit up and let's go. If you're doing a sew-on patch, and you're confident enough, you can do this on tear-away and it'll tear away all nicely for you. If you're making an iron-on or stick-on patch, you'll have to cut the bottom anyway, so you won't benefit from tear-away. Cut-away will work just fine and be a little stronger for the actual stitching process.

Then, if you want to be just like me, you turn on your expensive problem child of a machine, find out that (despite being less than two months old) the USB port isn't working, go into the craft store on your day off, and once again be grateful that you got the service contract as you resign yourself to not getting this done any time soon.

[yes, it'd be covered under warranty, but 1) our tech is my friend and he gets paid more for service maintenance agreements than he does for warranty work and 2) when processing it for warranty, the tech has to look for evidence that this was caused by a client misuse. It wasn't, but he's got to look. Service contract covers me fucking shit up just because I don't know what I'm doing, which results in faster service]

yay

[msotherworldly]

Characters Arcs

When writing a story, whether it be a novel or an epic film, it’s important to have subplots. While all stories should have, in addition to the main plot, something called a “B Plot,” C plots, D plots, and E plots should play a role too. Smaller plots wouldn’t change the entirety of the plot if removed...but when included, they can enhance the main plot, deepening it, and providing a greater meaning to the overall story.

While it isn’t always the case, the B Plot is often the “romance” of a story. While the hero is trying to defeat the bad guy, he develops a friendship or rivalry with a companion, before ultimately falling in love. Of course, romantic or platonic, the best sub plots explore the characters in relation to one another.

These character arcs - the changes to not only the characters themselves, but the evolution of their connection to others - give readers a reason to root for not only your hero, but the whole cast.

The film which exemplifies this point well is the first Lord of the Rings. While the groundwork for these characters, and their relationships, are laid in the book, I will be focusing on the movie version. When adapting Tolkien’s story, Peter Jackson knew the characters had to be more than names on a page. In order to foster a connection between the audience and each member of the fellowship, bonds were strengthened, or even invented, between the various members.

Merry and Pippin & Boromir

The bond between Merry and Pippin is solid in the books, but little is known about Boromir - beyond knowing he’s Denethor’s son, and a future steward of Gondor who attempts to steal the ring from Frodo, there is little else. In the books, he is a tragic figure and a lesson in how destructive the craving for power can be.

In the films, though, he becomes a friend to Merry and Pippin. He teaches them how to fight, and laughs when the two hobbits doggy pile him. It’s only one scene, but it gives us a relationship. When Boromir is later overwhelmed by orcs, it isn’t as punishment for his actions - instead, he redeems himself. He races to the defense of Merry and Pippin, giving his life for them. His death is that much more tragic because of his connection with the two. When they see him fall, he isn’t just their companion - he’s a good friend, who once laughed with them and ultimately died for them.

Aragorn & Boromir

Boromir also has a connection with Aragorn. The sub plot between the pair, which focuses on Aragorn’s mistrust in Gondor and Boromir’s belief in Gondor, is set up before the Merry and Pippin arc, beginning when Boromir drops the fragments of Isildur’s sword to the ground. His comment that these shards are no more than the remains of a broken sword underscores his lack of faith in Gondor needing a king - a point of tension between him, and the man who could be king if he cared to. 

Boromir is an idealist, seeing the best in Gondor and loving it to an almost blind degree. Aragorn, by contrast, seems to care more for the elves than his “own” people. He leads the party towards Lothlorion, home of the elves, but makes a point of avoiding Gondor. He seems to hate Gondor, connecting it with the failure of his ancestor, Isildur; like Aragorn’s antecedent, Gondor is weak. When Aragorn refers to Gondor, he calls it “your city,” to Boromir, rather than theirs.

Following the capture of Merry and Pippin, and the seeming conclusion of their arc, Aragorn swoops in to fight off Boromir’s assailants. Though Aragorn wins, Boromir is fatally wounded. He dies, but not before regarding Aragorn with the respect he would to a king. Aragorn, in turn, seems to have hope for Gondor, promising to do what he can for their people. 

This arc enhances Aragorn’s own character arc in accepting not only Gondor, but his role as it’s king. Boromir is a metaphor and embodiment of Gondor, and Aragorn’s feelings towards him are actually the feelings Aragorn has towards Gondor itself. His relationship with Boromir allows him to verbalize his inner conflict about his homeland, and who he is. In the end, he accepts Boromir as his fellow - along with accepting the city as his. 

He hasn’t accepted his role as king yet, but Boromir’s relationship with him has set him in the right direction.

Gimli & Legolas

Though the relationship between Gimli and Legolas has little effect on the main plot, it adds both humour and character development to the story. Initially, being a dwarf and an elf, the pair are resentful towards one another. Gimli more or less joins the fellowship to one up Legolas, and the two aren’t above making snide remarks towards one another. 

After Gimli’s own experience in Lothlorion, though, when the dwarf realizes that elves can be both kind and beautiful, the dwarf is able to soften towards his companion. Their enmity transitions into a rivalry - they aren’t friends, but they make battles fun by beginning a competition where they try to kill more orcs than the other. As they fight in more battles together, and swap kill numbers at the end of each fight, they develop an actual friendship (in the extended edition of the third film, they even end up drinking together). Their relationship is light hearted, but it adds depth to the story, and makes the audience want to root for the pair.

Both characters are enjoyable on their own, but together they are that much easier to love.

Frodo & Sam

In the books, Sam is Frodo’s gardener and servant. In the movies, he is Frodo’s best friend. While there is still a master and servant relationship between the two, with Sam addressing his friend as “Mr. Frodo,” the term comes to feel more habitual than formal. At the start of the film, the hobbits share drinks. Frodo pushes Sam into his crush, Rosie, and gives Sam assurance when he’s fretting over the competition he has for her affections. 

When Sam eavesdrops on the conversation between Frodo and Gandalf, the wizard decides Sam will pay for his listening in by accompanying Frodo to Bree. On their journey, Sam panics at one point when he thinks he’s lost Frodo. He explains that Gandalf made him promise he wouldn’t “lose” Frodo. 

Even when he’s no longer obligated to follow, Sam insists on joining the fellowship. Elrond notes there is no separating them, secret meeting or not. Later, towards the end of the story, Sam tries to comfort Frodo, citing his promise to look after his master. When the fellowship splits, Sam chases after Frodo. Frodo can go alone, but Sam is coming with him. He repeats the line that is the crux of his bond: he made a promise to Gandalf not to lose Frodo, and he’s going to keep it.

Sam stays with Frodo to the end, even coming back after being sent away at best (and betrayed at worst) by his master in the final movie. While their bond is implicit, the repeated promise, and the ups and downs their relationship takes, adds another layer to the story. Destroying the ring is challenging - not only because of it’s effect on Frodo’s health, but because of how it tests his friendship with someone who proves to be more loyal than most. 

The bond Frodo has with Sam is also integral to the plot. After all, if it weren’t for Sam, Frodo would have been killed. With such a role, Sam needed to be more than a dedicated servant. He needed to be a loyal friend, capable of being tested and still willing to fight for their friendship.

In Conclusion

The set up of these sub plots allows the rest of the movies to be deeper too. While it goes without saying that establishing a connection between Frodo and Sam would improve their shared story arc, other sub plots are revived. 

The connection Boromir shares with Merry and Pippin, for example, becomes integral to Pippin’s own arc. With Merry removed from his side, Pippin is then influenced by none other than Boromir, when guilt over his death pushes Pippin to pledge himself to the service of Boromir’s father, Denethor. 

Gimli and Legolas go on to have journeys together, and start another body count contest in the third film (where an elephant “still only counts as one” when Legolas dispatches it).

New sub plots are also introduced, such as the bitterness between Faramir and Denethor, but most of the plots are established in the first movie. The relationships between characters make the story matter, and carry it through; the groundwork laid by these bonds even sparks new storylines. Even after his death, Boromir’s relationship with Pippin influences his actions. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life After Snowpiercer: The World Is Changing

Summary- 6.5k Curtis Everett x You. This is it, the end of Wilfords reign on the Survivors lives, and time to embrace the future, whatever it may hold for the group. 

Warnings- Violence, mentions of rape, executions, smut, swears. 

A/N- This is the last chapter folks. How fitting that its just barely less then a year of working on this Series. I’m sure they will be back though, because the end is never really the end. Thank you to those that read it, commented, shared, let me know there thoughts about it. ❄️❄️❄️

Chapter 14 / Masterlist 

Edit by @angrybirdcr​

Artwork by @hopelessartgeek​

That whole night you tossed and turned, tried your best to sleep. You had been sleep deprived before, knew that havoc it would wreck on your body. But after the hundredth time tossing to your back and tilting your head to look out the window behind you, you knew it just wasn't going to happen. Not this night, or the nights Curtis would be gone.

It was all reminiscent of the revolt, sitting in that train's doorway in the bitter cold with John, thinking that Curtis was dead while trying to protect the others from Wilfords men, when you were surviving just because your adrenaline had yet to crash.

Again your chest felt heavy with the not knowing, so much that you kicked off the blankets and sat on the edge of the bed. Drawing in deep gasps, or trying to. But it was a vice in your chest, and tears brimmed the edge of your eyes. Before it was all about keeping the kids alive, working on those injured and watching over everyone. You didn't have that this time. The kids were all safe in another car, there was a doctor who was far more trained than you were, and you all were safe. Snowpiercer wasn't under attack by Wilford. 

So why couldn’t you breathe? 

A knock against your door made you gasp out suddenly, a rush of air filling your lungs and you brushed the wetness that had hid in your lashes to call out. “Who is it?” 

“It’s Yona, you’re needed or else I wouldn't be bothering you so late.” the young woman said which prompted you to push up to a stand and slip behind the door, cracking it just enough to see her bright eyes peering at you from the shadows beyond your door. “Timmy, he had a bad dream, and now the rest of the kids are all a bit worked up. They keep asking for you. I’m sure they can feel the tension on here with everything going on.” 

Your mind immediately shifted from your inner turmoil to taking care of the children. “Of course, give me a moment to get redressed and I will be right down.” You slipped back to close the door and gathered your clothing, finishing it off with one of Curtis’s smaller coats since you didn't know how long you would be, plus it was warmer. That's how you rationalized it, but then you pressed your face against the collar and that all too familiar masculine scent warmed your senses when your breath pressed into the fabric and you smiled to yourself. It smelled just like Curtis. When you opened the door, the moonlight from the window spilled into the dark alley of the train and Yona blinked at the sudden silver of the light, shielding her eyes till you closed it behind you. 

“I will join you.” She hooked her arm through yours in a friendly way and you two headed through the car to pass into the other one. Familiar now with the narrow passageway, and passing other doors that you knew had sleeping occupants behind them, safe in the beds. More of that anxiety started easing away, Yona talking in soft whispers about what she suspected Timmy had a nightmare about to fill you in. When you two reached the door and eased it open, you were greeted with soft snores and sighs of the kids having fallen back to sleep. The only thing out of place was Timmy sitting up on his mattress, sniffling while running his hand across his face. Both you and Yona moved to the small bed, and you moved to kneel down on it, tilting your head at Timmy a moment. “Hey bud, what's wrong?” Timmy’s eyes gleam from the tears in the bit of light there is in the room. 

“I miss my mom.” His little shoulders shook with an uncontrolled sob. “I had a bad dream and now she's not here Y/N.” You and Yona glanced at one another, as this had been the first time he really talked about Tonya. You shifted across the bed, and moved to sit next to him, your back leaning against the wall, Yona moving over next to him on his other side, and rubbing his back. 

“My mom used to tell me stories of the outside.” You said softly while lifting your arm and Timmy pressed into your side, sniffling as his hands curled into your coat as to hold onto you. 

“Mom used to tell me about when she was a kid.” Timmy said and you tilted your head back, letting your fingers scratch lightly at his scalp while brushing through his curls. Yona continued to rub his back through the hiccups he had after crying. 

“When I was a kid, I used to ride my bike everywhere with my friends…” You started when Timmy perked up. 

“Whats a bike?” His head tilting up and you chuckled softly, remembering when Edgar had asked you the same thing as a child. Yona looked curious as well at you and you went into descriptions of a bike, continuing afterwards and sure to pause to describe things on the train. You did your best, describing houses and yards, what roads were. And eventually halfway through you could feel Timmy had nodded off to sleep. Going quiet, you grasp the blanket half fallen off him, and tug it back around his shoulders. 

“That was a lovely story.” Yona said and you nodded. 

“I wish you all could have seen it all. Gotten to live a life away from this hell.” You admitted and Yona shrugged softly. 

“You can’t miss what you don’t know right?” Yona passed a smile and you had to give it to her, she was right. “But it won’t always be like this. Already things are changing.” She said while stretching her legs out in front of her and moving Timmy's blanket to cover her to, cuddling in closer to the sleeping boy. 

“What do you mean Yona?” You asked curiously as she closed her eyes, appearing to attempt sleep. 

“I don't know, a feeling… I don’t think all those things you talk about will be far off for earth. But what do I know, I am a train baby living in a world of dreams.” She scooted down into the blankets and you just blinked at her curiously before turning back to a sleeping Timmy who’s eyelids twitched in his dreams and he gave soft snores. You knew at that point you wouldn't be leaving the childrens car, and let your own head tip forward to relax and this time you had no trouble breathing before sleep. 

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

Curtis stopped the group just after morning when they reached train again, towards the back end where their hostages had been staying before. Right now the group was dead on their feet, clearly exhausted and Curtis didn’t dare continue pushing them, leaving them vulnerable. Especially if the rag tag group of hostages decided to turn on them in a last attempt of freedom. They had to know what was coming, there were no more chances. After everything that has already happened, Curtis was tempted just to kill them on the ice, let the snow claim their bodies and never speak of it again. 

But there were the victims they had to answer to, which he had promised them. Most had moved on, used to such hostile conditions. But then he thought of You, his girl who still had to fight with your fears in the simplest moments. Like when his hands rested on you intimately, or late at night when you forgot that you were no longer in the tail end. Those times you had to have him stop, clutching to him and trying to remember that he wouldn’t hurt you. Those were the worst, that you could ever be scared of him. Why what he did when he overpowered you in anger gnawed at his chest darkly, because that time he deserved your fear, even though you assured him later. 

Some of ending was for himself, because he wanted to make every single one of them pay for siding with Wilford, perfectly fine with keeping them trapped in the iron box for 17 years. That anger simmered below the surface as he remained quiet, not daring to open his mouth and say anything more than what was necessary. Everything about him was to remain cool and collected, even though inside was a rage that simmered brutally.

Sitting in an open doorway of the train care, the ax sat nearby propped against the wall, and his rifle was stretched across his lap, keeping an eye on the huddled hostages trying to keep warm but not daring to whisper while he had a keen eye on him, they seemed so subdued. But Curtis couldn't find it in himself to let his gaze break from them or let his guard down. 

Edgar was nearby, near a fire that John had fed some of the train garbage to to keep it light up, stretching his hands to the flames while squatting next to it. He glanced at Edgar who was vividly watching Curtis across the fire. 

“What’s on your mind kid?” John finally asked which Edgar snapped his gaze down, using his sleeve to buff at the head of the ax as if he was cleaning the blade from earlier. Already it had been taken care of, but the motion allowed him to be quiet for a moment. John did not push, waiting to see if Edgar would open up on his own. 

“You’ve known Curtis long enough now. What do you think of him?” Edgar finally asked and John looked at the young man and then to the man taking it on himself to watch over their hostages by himself while everyone else rested. 

“What do I think? I think he is very self sacrificing to the point it might end up killing him one day.” John said matter of factly and Edgar huffed as if in disagreement. John’s gaze lifted to him and continued. “I heard what had happened to your Mama, and I’m sorry about that. But Edgar you really don’t know. I’m not going into details, because our Car had it better than the tail end did, but we were close to losing it too. So what do I see when I look at Curtis? A man who did what he had to, and has lived just about everyday trying to make up for it. He will do whatever he can to make it better for the whole group, even if it means he doesn't survive to see it. Try holding the weight of all our survival on your shoulders Edgar and hating what you have become to do it.” John said before turning back to the fire to watch the flames dance different colors from the various things they had burned. 

The words sunk in even though Edgar wanted to reject what he said, wanted to still let that hot anger stay in his gut since he felt he had been cheated in life. He no longer wanted to kill Curtis, not like he had when he first found out. But part of him felt that the tail ender hadn’t suffered in the way he deserved. That raw part of his anger still rolled in him although he once more followed him into the fight. Edgar was thoroughly confused about what he felt, conflicted to follow the man he has for years, and to hate him for everything he has happened in his lifetime. Edgar stared into the flames, letting his mind wander. 

It wasn’t long until Curtis got them moving again, moving slower then they had before with the extra people, but  most of the trail was cut from when they had followed them before. Each car they managed to pass, the prisoners started to slow down a little more, sure that their fate was sealed. 

Which it was, this really was the end of the line for them. Curtis and the rest of the people couldn't afford to live with being attacked over and over. They had managed to get past the differences of the past, but these men. They firmly believed in Wilfords vision and were unwilling to change, including Matt. That was the hardest part for Curtis, knowing it was your brother. Would you have changed your mind in the time he was gone about what had to happen? Would you be able to forgive him for having to kill him? Could he live with you ever hating him for protecting you?

Brushing those thoughts away, Curtis glanced in the dark entrance to a car, recognizing it as one they had hauled everything out of weeks ago. They were closer to the front then he realized. Johanna was leading ahead, using the scope on the rifle to keep sight well ahead of them when he heard her call out that she could see the camp. Using the butt of his ax, Curtis pushed the prisoner who was just ahead of him forward, his tone unforgiving but not with anger, just with sincerity. “Keep going, no use in stalling any longer.” 

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

You heard someone shout from outside that the party was back, and you glanced at Yona who was also spending time with the kids. She gave a nod that you should go and she would stay with them, not wanting any of the children to go outside and see the terrible things about to commence. You were quick to go to your room to grab your coat and stuff your hands in a pair of gloves before making your way outside of the train. Swinging down and joining the crowd as they worked their way around the fires to greet the returning group. You went around, looking over familiar faces of friends, and past those that were being held captive. You weren't ready to see Matt for that matter, or to possibly recognize your attacker from before. Swallowing hard to keep your cool, you searched out for two people. The first being Edgar, he gave a slight nod in your direction when he caught your eyes, mouthing ‘Where’s Yona?’ from over the heads of others. You pointed to the train and he split from the group to go inside. You stalled a moment, wondering what that was about, but then you went back to searching out for Curtis. 

You finally caught sight of him in the back, bringing up the rear. You split wide around, not giving anyone an opportunity from the prisoners to make a grab for you, and came up to his side. The charges he was taking care of were collected just as you reached him and he carefully set the rifle and ax down to lean against the side of the train before turning to you. He seemed hesitant at first, just as he had done since he got a bit rough with you before, and you stepped into his hold so he wouldn't have to wonder any longer, sliding your hands under his jacket to feel along his sweater-clad chest. “You are not hurt are you Curtis?” you asked softly as you continued your inspection. So far he seemed fine, just tired in his face but no signs of being in pain, which you were thankful for. 

“No, it was a lot easier then we expected.” His hand went to your face, brushing back the heavy long hair over your shoulder, his fingers cold to the touch at first having his hands bare out in the cold. “They are worn out and the fight is basically out of them. They know there is nowhere for them to go, and have to face their fate.” 

Hearing him say that was a lot easier than you expected. Your gaze left Curtis as you glanced over at the rag tag group kneeling in the center of the mob of people. The group that had brought them in guarded over them, each person kneeling staring down the end of a rifle or the end of a gleaming ax. Your throat closed a moment when you saw Matt sneering up at Edgar, flashing back to a time they were both just kids playing together. But that was long ago, and now you knew he would kill any of you over showing mercy. 

As long as he was alive, none of you were safe. “Then it's time.” You said simply, turning back to Curtis, whose fingers were just starting to warm up against your cheek, and you could see the resolve in his eyes mirroring your own. Kissing your forehead, Curtis stepped away from you, picking up his ax again as he descended on the group. 

“What will it take to spare us.” One of them near Matt piped up, shuffling to his knees, and his face turned up to look at Curtis. You had followed behind Curtis, and when the man's face lifted, you stiffened. His face was horribly mutilated right now, one of his eyes missing, and having healed over. 

Flashbacks of that voice taunting you while pinning your body underneath him. “He aint coming for you Lovely, but you're a good little whore ain't ya… gonna come for me right now. I know you like yourself a real man.” 

Recalling the memory of his hands all over you as he raped you made you gag, and Curtis heard you heaving behind him, looking over his shoulder to see you trying to take deep breaths to calm down. The prisoner tilted a bit to try and look around Curtis, his eye narrowing to see what had distracted Curtis when he was trying to plead their case. 

“Fucking hell…” The man stuttered, Curtis ignoring him while he turned to you, his hands cupping your face and making you look at him. 

“Y/N, Babygirl breathe.” He said to anchor you. You took a deep breath and felt his hands gentle on you, reminding you that you weren't back in that car and at the bastard's mercy. “You got away, and I'm not going to let him touch you again.” And that was it, immediately the bile disappeared and you felt your racing heart start to slow. You pressed your forehead against Curtis’s chest for a moment and took a deep breath, letting your senses fill with him. Under your fingertips, his strength became yours, the smell of the wool of his sweater that was slightly damp from the snow centering you to the here and now, the deepness of his voice turning gentle with your name. Heavy hands braced against your back, calm as they rubbed slightly. He was right, you had gotten away, and now he the bastard couldn't take your power away from you. 

From behind Curtis, Matt started laughing, shaking his head. “Weak, fucking weak Sister. He is helpless before you and you're still shaking with fear.” You felt Curtis’s fingers tighten their hold on you in anger at Matt. You eased his hold loose on you and reached in Curtis' jacket, pulling out a blade you knew he kept on him. 

“No Matt, that is not true. I survived, which is less then I can say for you because you are so fucking corrupted, you cant see any other way.” Your hand fisted around the blade and Edgar made a grab at your rapist who was struggling now to get away from you. Your hand fisted in his hair, tilting his head back to stretch out his neck. Leaning in close to whisper to him, your face twisted a bit in disgust at him. Curtis hovered behind you, his hand resting loosely on your back just so you knew he was there. “You tried your hardest to break me, make me yours. Do you remember taunting me, how you thought you ruined me, that Curtis was dead. Was ready to pass me around to others. Look at us now.”

“List-listen girl, I was just doing what I was told to do by him.” His head tilted towards Matt. “Him and Wilford told us to do it, to make you all suffer. I was just carrying out orders.” Tears welled up in his eye, fear making his chest rise and fall as his breathing quickened. He jerked his shoulders trying to break out of Edgars hold and your blade further into his skin, red beads welling under the blade. “I swear I’ve changed, just let me go and I will go far away from here.” 

“You didn’t show any of us mercy when we were begging. Be grateful I'm making this quick, which is the least I can say you did to us in the tail end.” 

His eye widened, pleading with you as his tongue stuttered in his mouth, and you let the pressure behind the knife slice forward, the blade sharp because Curtis had spent hours caring for their weapons. Blood steamed hot as it burst into the cold air and his scream was cut abruptly. Before you could drop the blade, Curtis caught your hand in his and removed the knife from your trembling hand. Edgar held on till he was sure your rapist couldn't do anything other than strangle on his blood and loss of oxygen, letting his body fall into the snow to turn it pink. 

Matt nearby watched the whole thing, an unreadable expression as he looked at his comrade. You looked Matt up and down, the loyalty you had for him finally gone. “Goodbye Matt… I'm sorry you had turned into this.” 

Turning away and pressing your hand against Curtis’s chest, you gave a slight smile. “I will be inside when you all are finished.” He drew you in momentarily, dropping his head to whisper. 

“I will be in soon Babygirl.” Pressing his lips warmly against your forehead, he released you. The crowd split to let you through. As you left they closed back up, enclosing the prisoners in a human wall once again. Matt now panicked, seeing just how real the situation of his execution had become. 

“Y/N, Come back!” He screamed. “I'm your brother! You can’t let me be killed! Y/N! You left me to Wilford. I did what I did to survive!” He screamed. 

But you were already inside the train, stiffening your back to his cries behind you. That was the past, that was when you were a victim of the tail end. Stepping into the room with the group's children, this was your future. They didn't need to be tainted with the evil behind you. 

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

Curtis hefted his ax up, his features hardening as he advanced on Matt. “It's over Matt, finally.” Matt sneered up at Curtis, hissing at him in his last attempt of survival. “You think Y/N will really stay with you knowing you murdered her brother? Can't stop can you, this is what you will always be Curtis, why do you think Wilford chose you to take Minister Masons place. You are a killer through and through but you can change.” 

“You don’t think I haven’t already thought about all that Matt.” Curtis said with a roll of his shoulders to loosen his tension, his tone matter of fact. “Truth is I am always going to be exactly this. Doing what has to be done for us to survive. If Y/N hates me... but shes safe, I will learn to live with it.” Matt’s features fell, dread coming across his face at Curtis’s words. Nothing could change the Mans mind now, no matter what Matt threw at him, and Matt knew it.

Curtis raised his ax for a maximum swing. “You have no more power over any of us, not anymore.” With a downward swing the ax came down with a killing blow, Matt crumpling under the blows Curtis dealt. It was like the initiation the group needed to destroy the last of Wilfords men. The group broke over the others, their executions swift. The screams quickly died out, and the icy landscape had once again seen blood. 

Once it was over, Curtis stepped back, feeling exhaustion wash over him. His hand dropping the ax in his hand. Edgar came over, shaking himself in adrenaline. “You okay Man?”

Curtis let himself have a moment to compose himself from the rush, there was just one thing he needed right then and there. “I will be.” He said as he simply walked away, going to the train, going to you. 

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

You had left the children in the capable hands of Yona, with the understanding they needed to stay in their train car that day. You made your way back to your own section that you and Curtis have turned into home. Just entering, you saw Curtis just standing there. Some blood streaked across his face, but you knew this time it wasn't his own. He also looked a bit lost in the moment, not entirely sure of what to do next as his eyes fell on yours and breathed out your name, like he was looking for something to really hold onto. “Y/N…” 

“Is it finished… really finished now Curtis?” you shed your outer clothes, dropping them to the bed top before approaching him to ease his jacket off his shoulders, your hand reaching up for his beanie and slipping that off as well. All his layers, so many layers he traveled in. You shed each one from him to get to the man underneath, knowing that he needed the help right now, needed support after everything he had to do. The one thing you knew about Curtis, was that he would carry all of it personally like a festering wound, slow to heal. 

“It's all over, everyone connected to Wilford is gone and won't be a danger to us anymore.” Curtis didn’t try to stop you as your hand fell to his belt, unlooping it. You pulled his belt out and his hands fell to your hips, flexing his fingers through the layers and his hand caught the hem of your shirt which you lifted your arms and let him draw if off of you. Marveling at your warmth as you pushed at his shirts. He stilled you, his hands catching around your wrists to bring them to his face, your hands cupping around his jaw as he pressed the gentlest of kisses against the thud of your pulse. “You can forgive me, someday Y/N?” 

What you wouldn't give to be able to read his mind right now as you looked in his eyes that looked older than he actually was. Fingers grazed through the bristles of his beard and you gave him the tiniest smiles to ease the worry in them. “There is nothing to forgive. Thank you for doing what I couldn't ever do Curtis. For not letting me do that.” 

Some of the worry melted from his eyes, and you eased your wrists from his hold, cupping the back of his neck while brushing fingers along the short bristles of his hair, knowing it was a soothing feeling for him. “Let me warm you up Handsome” You said in a way you knew he wouldn't deny you, in  which he released you to shrug the last shirt off. Your fingers curled in his pants and pulled him into the bathroom, continuing to slide clothing off your body. 

He followed suit, taking cues from you till you were both naked, flushing into him to grasp his cheeks and go to tiptoes to slide your nose against his own, your lips just resting against his in a gentle kiss before smiling at him. “Thank you for coming home to me, again.” You broke into a smile. 

Curtis let his hands fall to your hips, his thumbs sweeping over your softness and fingers curling into you, holding onto you. “Babygirl, always I will come back for you. You are home.” Pressing you back to step into the shower, the two of you pressing into the tile of the shower, kissing each other with a deepness further then lust, pouring everything you two shared into that kiss. Your hand curled around his neck, arching to tip toes as you reached behind you for the showers knobs and turned on the water to spill over the two of you. 

The warm water ran rivets over your naked bodies as two collapsed into one another, Curtis grasping the back of your thighs to lift you to wrap around his waist, spreading kisses slightly scratching down your neck and over your collarbone, all the while raspy voiced. “You've always been it for me Babygirl.” Sure to tattoo those words into your skin, your eyes closed as you arched for him, his mouth claiming a breast. His mouth had you gasping lightly as he continued to take you higher with passion. 

The water felt like it was washing it all away for Curtis, the last of the tail end. The sweat and blood from the last days swirling away down the drain, leaving just him and you behind. And as he said before, it's always been you for him, just you. He didn't want to live this life without you at his side. 

The fire in your belly started to kindle, your thighs clenching tighter around his waist to lose any space between the two of you. Finally you gasped out, digging your fingers into the muscles clenched on his back to hold yourself to him. 

“There couldn't be another Curtis.” You whimpered out, feeling him tighten his chest against yours to hold you still and his hand fit between your bodies, his fingers dancing so intimately in your folds, right where you ached for him so much. Curtis let his forehead lean against yours, blue eyes staring so intently at you that the first push into your aching entrance had you squeezing your eyes shut. 

“No Y/N, look at me, let me see.” He demanded with a deeper tone, and it was that of a leader, your leader, your partner and lover. You couldn't deny him such a simple request. Immediately they opened again, trying to focus as Curtis touched you in the way only you ever wanted him to. Each stroke brought you closer and closer to coming undone. When Curtis felt you just about to come, his mouth crashed against yours swallowing your cries as his own while you came completely undone, tensing between him and the wall, then sinking into bliss while Curtis supported you. “I got you Babygirl, I won’t let you go.” 

6 Months Later

Life settled for the group after the final execution. They flourished without the fear of being attacked hanging over them. Food was abundant, the greenhouse tended and cared for, seeds stored away, fruits and vegetables were in abundance. The animals they had were treasured, cared for with the utmost care. What was predicted as springtime, they were blessed with a newborn calf that the children were all fascinated with, as well as the egg laying chickens left with gaggles of chicks running around after the mother hens. You were frequent in those cars, teaching the kids the responsibility to helping life thrive, how they helped one another survive. You all protected the animals and kept them fed, the cattle gave you cream for butter and cheese, the chickens provided eggs. 

Curtis himself worked on the train with the engineer, learning the ins and outs of how to keep the necessities running as long as possible, maintaining the battery that was still running the train for now and watching over the water supply, learning to filter water back into the tank using the snow. Groups of people would scavenge metal from the ruined cars to enforce the area they were living in.

They explored beyond the train, going in the opposite direction from the city to see what could be found. Miles away they came across trees, tall forests of ice covered trees but underneath that snow and ice they were green and alive. Curtis pulled at a branch to smell the sharp scent as he crushed the needles between his fingers. Somehow managed to get enough sun to continue growing in the extreme cold. Underneath the branches was the next surprise. Tracks, animal tracks to be exact. Curtis studied for a long time, looking for what could make them, and then with trained eyes he saw it. White rabbits would dart from where they blended in the landscape, equally white weasels with beady black eyes ran up to his boot, chittering at him angrily before they scurried away. Pairs of ptmartigans screeched in flight as they burst in front of him, landing close by to huddle again, and tuck their heads into their backs to fight back the cold, quickly blending into the landscape once again. There was life on the surface, it gave them all hope.

The group started to try and make snares and traps, wandering away from the safety of the train to try and catch some of their food. After several trials and errors, traps started filling with protein, providing them with fresh meat and fur that could be used for different things. Others on the train were skilled in leather making and clothes making. 

On top of all this, Curtis was happier. He no longer had the leader role that had been been thrust upon him in the tail end, now the responsibility was shared among others, the council they started forming into the people making the future choices, all sharing the responsibility. 

Things were as strong as ever between You and Curtis as well. Since that day you had taken back your own honor from your rapist, it unleashed something in Curtis. He simply couldn't get enough of you now, and although he checked frequently to be sure you were okay with it, he was no longer worried that he would be too much for you as he was before. Curtis often pulled you to the side to press his love into kisses, whispering against your neck how wild you drove him. To say you didn't enjoy how attentive he was to you would be a lie, you blossomed under his love and support. 

Today had you pinned against the metal door of your room, your legs locked around him, one hand grasping his shoulder and the other against the door frame as he thrusted hard into you, the muscles in his ass and thighs taunt from the back and forth snaps. Curtis’s hands dug into that space between your hips and ass, moving you to meet him. It was rough, hard and in the middle of the day, and you were giving the filthiest moans, spurring him on. "Fuck baby, cant keep quiet can you?" You heard him smirk where he was sucking on your collarbone to leave a mark. “You feel so fucking good Babygirl.” He groaned as you tightened around his cock, loving the way you were unable to contain yourself, nor felt the need to anymore. 

"Shit baby, I'm about to cum* he grunted, shuddering under your hands when you fluttered around him, hiding your face in his shoulder, whimpering as he ground his hips against yours, pressing his cock deeper if it was even possible to fill you even more.

"Touch me Handsome, its all I need." You finally were able to find the words and Curtis tilted his head to sloppily kiss your while reaching between you. A vigorous messy rub had you clenching and cursing against his mouth, your hands digging into his back and you shuddered over and over as that sweet delicious tension riddled you into a blissful gasping state. A hand slid to your thigh and he tapped the muscle to get your attention as he was at a slight loss of words trying keep himself reigned in. It registered what he wanted and you unlocked your ankles, allowing him to move and lower you to the mattress with a slight drop. Curtis jerked his cock over you, although he couldn't come in you, he could cum on you, and heavy spurts landed on your thighs and belly. He collapsed beside you on the bed, panting with deep chest raising breaths. Tipping your head to look over at him, he looked peaceful. Eyes closed, relaxed.... It made you smile.

Slitting one eye open, he glanced at you watching him so intently "What is it Dahlin’ ?" He drawled out, the grin on his face plastered almost permanently for the time being. 

"Nothing, you're gonna find it silly" you state and fall back to stare upwards.

Well now he had to know, and rolling enough to lean over you, he pulled at your lips in a kiss. "You will when you're ready” Curtis simply said as he pushed off the bed to go for a cloth in the bathroom, and returned to clean himself off you gently, far more gently then when he claimed you earlier. Your eyes closed while you relaxed under his touch till he moved away again to take care of himself. Afterwards he returned to stretch on the bed next to you, shifting to lean over you once more.

Dropping lower, he kissed down along your collarbone, grazing his beard to tingle between the valley of your breasts and resting his head underneath the curves, his hand possessively wrapped over your hip.

You had remained quiet this whole time, instead you focused on those freckles on his shoulders, trailing a nail along them while he settled, your gaze falling down along his back, marked with tiny scars. You planned on kissing each one someday.

You both were riddled with them, years of rough living would do that. But it just showed you survived hell to get here, and fuck if you would trade this for anything. You loved being able to be with Curtis in the most intimate of ways, being able to see him sated in the afternoon light that dabbled across his back as he truly relaxed without fear of Wilford or the front end. 

“I was just thinking how good all of this is Curtis, how far we have come. A year ago we were barely staying alive, and now look at us.” You said softly, and you felt Curtis arm tighten slightly around you, lifting his head enough to look up at you. 

“Because we did it together.” You felt his lips brush a kiss into your ribs, the slight scratch of his chin tickling you before he shifted to lay up next to you, seeking your lips for himself. This time he pulled you across him, which you easily settled into him, your hand sliding up and down his chest while your head rested on his shoulder. “I'm really proud of you Babygirl, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.” 

You hid your face against him for a moment, silence washing back over you. The warmth falling from the sun beams was making you two fall into a half sleep that came with afternoon naps. It wasn't till you heard a steady dripping above you that made you twist in his hold to look up, streaming down the windows was water. Rivers across the glass that broke up some of the sunlight. Nudging Curtis to open his eyes, you pointed up at the window pane. 

“The snow… its melting Curtis.” 

He tilted to look up as well, a smile curling his lips. “The world is changing Babygirl, just as Nam said it was. He told me that the snow was coming to an end. That this kind was ready to let go.” 

Now was the time for a new way of life, the time after Snowpiercer finally came to a stop.

[winter-fox-queen]

Small Gambles

Ezra (Prospect) X I pronoun character

I wanted to get this done before tomorrow, my unread – oh Lord – attempt at my second Writer Wednesday.

I might come back and edit it tomorrow.  It’s supposed to be stupid busy for me tomorrow so I might not have the brain for it, and I am so sorry.

Summary:  Ezra gets his new arm from a black market fixer.  I THINK it is a gender neutral reader…my writing tends to be from the female viewpoint so it is possible I messed up.  But I tried to keep it neutral.

Warnings:  Some violence.  Some pain? Blood assumed.  Ezra talking should come with a warning.  

“It’ll hurt,”  I say to him.  “You should get this done by one if the top siders.”

Ezra, his name was, gave me a wry smile.  “While I am aware that the pain will be exquisite, I am most certainly assured that getting back the use of my arm, be it a mechanical one, will be worth these moments of misery.”  He paused, and said, oddly and without any embroidery, “Besides, it can’t hurt worse than when I had it cut off.”

“Kevva.”  I whisper.

“Indeed.”

I’m on the third floor of a tenement in the Downsides.  We’re on my balcony, looking out at the rain soaked streets.  He asked to come out here “So I can day dream of petrichor and the soft lights of the stars while you work your magic” and after several moments of negotiations – where I let his words flow over me like a beautiful, over complicated waterfall, we struck a deal, and I pulled out the best black market arm his money could buy.

Actually, that’s a lie. The arm on my work table was actually a little better than his money could buy.  But I liked his smile.  I liked how he embroidered the air with his words and made the silence gentler.  A person could sit and listen to that voice forever.  

“First, the cap.  That’s the part that will hurt.”  I examined it carefully under the light.  I suspected that this was not the first man this cap had been attached to, but you ask questions in the Downsides, and you die. “This will cover the stump…I mean…”

“You are a being of most direct and forthright language, which, despite my loquacious nature I do appreciate.  It is kind of you to try to make a bad situation sound less dire, but it is not needed, I assure you.”

“Tell me how you lost your arm.”  I start preparing the cap.  The cap was (almost) the best I had, and the part I encouraged him to splurge on, because the arm attachment could be switched up.

There were two jars on my worktable.  One of them was conduction gel which would basically melt the skin to the cap.  The other had nanites who would much more gently and finely unite man and metal.

One had been paid for. One had not.  Which one do you think I grabbed?  I shoved the cap on, gave him a couple of shots to numb the pain and make the nanites work.  He gasped softly, interrupting his story about someone named Cee.

“So, you know, you can get attachments to switch out that will make prospecting easier…”

“I am afraid that you have quite emptied my pockets, dear sparrow.”  His voice sounded strained.  I sat in front of him, put my hands on his knees.  

“Look at me Ezra. So.  You killed this girl’s father…”

“He was stealing my…”

“Oh, no, I get it.  I’d have shot him, too.”  

He gave me a look.  “I have not always been a good man.”

I looked back at my workshop, crowded with junk parts, a bed in one corner.  Rent overdue.  “I’ve not always been good, either.  I think you can’t be good and desperate at the same time.”

“Perhaps.”  He managed to give me a smile, “Is that why there has been a – I do think it is a man – sitting on a motorcycle type conveyance, watching your domicile all this time?  I thought at first he was here for me, but to be honest, I am not that well known around these parts and have not been here long enough to cause offense.”

My eyes flicked up, met his.  I didn’t want to look.  “Is his helmet silver, with a blue star?  Doe he have a jacket with a star, too?”

“Indeed he does.  May I take it that you are familiar with our watcher?”

“He thinks I cheated him. He used to bring me salvage.  He brought me some bad parts and I refused to pay what he expected.  And I told others,”  I leaned forward, took his arm in my hands gently.  The cap was almost set.  “They refused to buy the parts.  Some of them were…well.  I recognized the logo.  They came off soldiers.  Upside guards.  People who put tracking chips in everything.  People you don’t want to catch the eye of.  SO…he wants to hurt me.  So far all he does is watch, but.”

“This is not the most secure of locales.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Please rest assured, I did not mean to apply otherwise.  However.  Everyone must fall into the sweet embrace of slumber sometime.”

I picked up the arm. It was a good model – strong. Made of metal that was light, but durable.  “I wish I had a sleeve for it.  Something that would make it look like…robotic.”  

“I am not a man given to vanity, my pet.”  He was staring out at the road, watchful but not looking directly at the man on the motorcycle.

I started attaching the fine connections.  I did it with the arm on so I could do some of the work by feel…I could feel the thrum as each bit of the arm started to come online, the metal tendons and gears coming to life.

“Why does it feel so cold, up my shoulder and into my head?”  He asked.

“Is your head starting to hurt yet?”

He shook it.

“It will.  The nanites are making pathways, reconnecting your mind to your arm.”

“I did not pay for that.”

“No,”  I say.  “You didn’t.” Three more connections to go.

“And what am I to do, in exchange for your generosity?”  There was a slight edge to his voice.  The voice of the man who had shot a girl’s father, who had fought and gotten plenty of blood on his hands.  It didn’t frighten me, though I suppose it should.

When you go,  I want to say, Two things will happen. Either I will run, and manage to flee and find safe harbor.  Or I will flee, and I will die, either by the hand of the man below, or by some other desperate Downsider who wants to sell my bits and pieces.  I might as well give you the best I feel I can.  Because I’m probably not going to live to serve another customer.

“You have not told me the whole tale, I believe.”

“No,”  I say, and give into the temptation to rub his back gently, to trace the blonde gash of hair at his temple as I stand up.  “I have not.  But.  I’m done. Let your arm rest best you can over night…that’s why I gave you the sling.  If you can let it rest two days, you’d be even better off.”  I grab some pills off a shelf.  “Blue bottle.  That’s more nanites.  Your system is killing those little builders as we speak.  There should be five pills…”  I check, nod, “Take one a day.  And practice using your arm in a few days.  The more you practice, the better the connections will be.  Take it slow and build up.  The last three days of the pills are the most important.”

He took it without a word, strangely quiet.  His eyes flickered to the now empty road.  

“Red, for pain.  Take when you must.  And now…”  I smiled a little.  “How would you say it?  I bid you a fond farewell, and safe travels as you leave my place and rejoin the great mortal coil?”

He smiled at me softly, and with great, great effort and probably greater pain, made his new arm take my fingers in his, and lift them to his lips.  His good hand clenched into a fist as he shook with the effort.  His new fingers were very, very cold…and his lips were soft and very warm.  A coil of longing like a snake twined around my heart and squeezed painfully, fangs singing deep.

“Take care of yourself, Ezra.”

“And you.”

As the door closed, I grabbed my go bag.  It was already mostly packed with things I would need, and I finished packing.  I slipped my most expensive arm out from under my bed – it was state of the art and came with attachments.  I also had some eyes and other smaller parts I threw into the bag with the last of my tools and nanite cream and pills.  I didn’t intend on fitting the arm on anyone, but I could sell it.  Maybe I can get off world.  Maybe find my way to where the prospectors hang out when they look for jobs.  Listen for a deep voice like brocaded velvet spin tales with seven words when one would do.

I ran down the stairs, out the back.

My watcher was waiting for me.  I should have gone out the front.  Now I was alone, in an alley, with someone who would enjoy hurting me.

“Trying to run out on us?”  

“I owe your boss a lot of money…I was hoping to sell this…”  I raised the case “And with the money I made tonight maybe make a payment.  You know.  Show my good intentions.”

He sneered at me, but I never knew what he meant to say because a silver arm wrapped around, silver fingers gripping his throat, crushing him.  Ezra held him tight as he struggled, the new arm making little whining sounds of displeasure as he lowered the man to the ground.  

“I told you not to use your arm!”

“I am afraid…”  Ezra panted, “That it is not allowing me to let go of this unfortunate fool’s throat.”  He gave me a slightly panicked look.  Not because he (probably) killed someone, but because he lost control.  

“I’ve got it.”  I approached gingerly, pressing the arm in a few places to make it relax.  “The cap’s messed up.  I’m going to have to reset it…Ezra.  Why did you come back?”

“I thought I could repay your generosity by making certain that you had at least one night of relative safety. If I had known you were about to flee…”

We rolled to body against the wall.  I frisked it for useful items before covering it with trash.  

“Your hands are shaking, dear doctor…I am afraid you will not be able to assist me in fixing the problems I so egregiously caused by using my new arm.  May I propose that you take safe harbor with me?  I have a small ship…she is not much but she will get us somewhere else. Anywhere is better than here, I do think you will agree, and there are many who would value your talents greatly.”

I finally ask one of the many, many questions I had been wanting to ask him, since he showed up at my door.  “Ezra, do you always talk so much.”

He draws himself up a little.  “I assure you, I can be silent when the need arises.”

“No.  No.”  I stand in front of him.  “I want you to promise you’ll never stop.”

I struck him silent, again, I think, for just a moment and he just gives me that slight, curious smile.  “I think I can promise that.”  I liked that.  I liked the idea of his words wrapping me in soft comfort.  

“Then I gratefully accept your generous proposal.”  

“Right this way,” he bowed.

I didn’t look back, as I followed Ezra down the alley and away from everything I’d known, and feared.

There was too much to look forward to.

[fletchphoenix]

Hold You Through The Night

:)) literally all of these were started during my break and edited now - I really kinda like this one. Its decent i guess so i hope you enjoy :)

Also, its good to be back to writing.

-----------------

After such a long day, Hugo was..unbelievably excited to finally settle down. They’d been travelling and sleeping rough for what felt like days, his legs beginning to take the toll and aching constantly as though he’d aged twenty years in a week. Is this what Donella felt like? Was that why she was always in a mood? It made a lot of sense - after years of chasing after Hugo as a child, it had finally come to bite him in the ass in the form of the unbelievably energetic Yong. The kid seriously had no off switch and it drove him insane.

At last they approached the inn, a wooden sign above it swinging slowly in the wind and bringing back painful memories. Briefly, he glanced at his prosthetic arm, flexing the fingers and allowing himself to, once again, think about his mother and how much she’d helped him get back on his feet. Looking back on it, even though she had her tough love kind of methods, she could still be compassionate (like when she paid to get him his goggles - it being a big big deal if Donella went out of her way to pay for something) even if she didn’t show it through the most conventional methods.

“Hugo? You coming?” Varian’s voice brought him back to reality, a stupidly pretty smile on his face that had Hugo nodding frantically and walking inside before his suave persona slipped. Truth be told, he had a huge crush on the smaller man. He really didn’t know how it came about to be honest, the feelings less like a slow build and more like someone had thrown a brick straight at Hugo’s face and proceeded to beat him with it. It just came as fast as feelings could, and it scared him more than anything else in the world. 

The room they were in was quite small, small enough that he could probably make his way across the room in five steps if it weren’t for the counter pressed against the wall. To either side of him there was a door, one of them leading to a dining area and, presumably, a bar and the other directly to a staircase where the rooms were. The ambience was kind of nice, the interior decorated as though it were a log cabin in a desolate area, which fit nicely with the frozen exterior of the town. Behind the counter was a woman with short, blue hair and a soft smile playing on her lips as she talked with Nuru, though Hugo looked away in favour of looking at a certain black haired, blue streak, staff wielding alchemist.

Hugo stood awkwardly, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms as he waited for Nuru to stop negotiating about rooms with the woman, all the while his eyes staying fixed on Varian as he fixed his hands on Yong’s shoulders. He really didn’t get what he saw in the other - I mean, only a few weeks ago he’d reveled in being the most annoying man in the other’s life, but now he wanted to be the best man in his life and give him the world. It was draining as well, his brain in overdrive whenever he so much as looked in Varian’s direction. It was driving him insane in the best way possible.

“Okay good news is they have rooms. Bad news is there’s only three so Varian, Hugo, you’ve gotta share.” Nuru declared, extending her hand to Hugo who stared at it for a second before taking the key from the princess. He didn’t even bother with complaining like Varian did, already walking through the doorway on the left and making his way up the stairs, the wood moaning under his weight which...was not comforting at all. Quietly, he headed down the hallway, opting to ignore the various paintings on the wall and unlock the door, having to shove it open before walking into the room.

Oh no.

The room was rather nice, a desk against the wall which Hugo promptly placed his bag on, and a window on the right wall. It still fit with the general ‘log-cabin-in-the-winter’ vibe that the inn had going on, though there was one really really REALLY big problem that would certainly make his predicament with Varian way more difficult. 

There was only one bed.

“Hey Hugo, I tried to meet a compromise with Nuru about having different rooms, but no can do.” Varian commented as he opened the door, his eyes meeting the blond who was frozen in place in the middle of the room. “What are you looking at-oh.” His voice died out as he noticed the problem. “Well uh, if you want, I can sleep on the floor.”

“No need. We can make a pillow wall.” Hugo replied quickly, moving to his side of the room and changing into his pyjamas, Varian following suit. So this was really happening, huh? He had to share a bed with Varian and it was going to be the most awkward thing in the world. Hugo strolled across the room to lay down on the bed, leaving room for Varian to slip in before setting up the pillow wall. “Okay, here we go. That’s your side, this is my side. Stay there.”

“You have more room than me.” Varian whined as he shuffled upwards and glanced over the top to look down on Hugo. He had that little pout that made Hugo want to give him what he wanted, but this time the blond relented and narrowed his eyes. 

“I’m bigger than you and need more room. It’s not my fault you’re the size of a toddler. Quit complaining and go to bed, child.” He replied snarkily, turning his back to the raven haired boy and suppressing the chuckle that threatened to sound out as Varian grumbled like a two-year-old. He wasn’t sure when, but he fell asleep.

A harsh kick to the leg woke him up, grumbling and turning over to see Ruddiger chittering nervously. “The fuck do you want-” he began to say to the raccoon, before turning his head and taking in the sight before him. The raccoon’s owner looked to be in the middle of a nightmare, tossing, turning and thrashing before sitting up and waking up with a loud gasp, gasping for breath with tears rolling down his cheeks. “V, are you alright?” Hugo asked nervously, Varian jolting before his teary eyes looked at him.

“Hey uh-go back to sleep. I’m sorry.” He whispered in hushed apologies, before Hugo took the other man’s hand and pulled him into an (admittedly awkward and stiff) embrace, his fingers threading through raven locks as carefully as he could, his prosthetic sitting aside on the desk while the stump lay limply beside him. Varian welcomed this new embrace, his head resting on Hugo’s chest as he mumbled.

Hugo thought for a moment, racking his brain to try and think of something to calm Varian down. Slowly, Hugo began to sing a little tune, his lips ghosting against the other man’s forehead as he kept his voice gentle, all the while his fingers continued to dance through his hair. After a while, he heard a hushed snoring against his chest before he decided to stop singing and began to slowly fall asleep, Varian’s fat bastard of a raccoon coming to sit on the pillow beside his head as his eyes closed.

----------------------------

Sun rays blazed in through the window, the fabric of the curtains doing nothing to block it out. A slither made its way directly onto Hugo’s face, the glare making it almost impossible for him to ignore as he grumbled and groaned. His eyes opened slowly as he attempted to raise himself, though a heavy weight on his chest stopped him. Glancing down, the head of his favourite alchemist kept him in place and the sound of Varian’s snores echoed through their tiny room. 

Almost uncharacteristically, he pressed his lips against the top of the other’s head and shuffled his way out of bed to attach his prosthetic and change into his day clothes, and walked out of the room to head to the inn’s dining room for breakfast. 

Neither boy bothered to mention the cuddling session from last night, graciously sparing each other from teasing off Nuru and Yong, though Varian would be lying if he said he didn’t want it to happen again. And so, even if he did lie when paying for rooms,  Hugo never seemed to mind. Varian would even dare to say that Hugo liked it as much as he did. He could tell he was growing on the blond.

On the other hand, Hugo never mentioned the gentle kiss he pressed to the forehead of the other man or the way his touches began to linger, craving more contact with the alchemist before the inevitable betrayal. A gentle sigh left his lips at the thought. He wasn’t even sure he could betray them anymore. Over their time together, Hugo was starting to get more and more attached to the gang, and even though he loved Donella, he really wasn’t sure if he could risk hurting the other teens. 

Only time would tell, he guessed.

[thethousandyearwitch]

The Show Must Go On! - A Youtuber AU you didn’t want and didn’t need

Hisoka Morrow, italian Makeup Youtuber, enjoys his life in the comfort and occasional drama of his profession. But nothing brings more drama into his life than the eldest son of the Zoldyck fashion magazine empire.

Meanwhile, aspiring australian Twitch Streamer Gon Freecs forms a special bond to a Speedrunner commonly going by "Kil".

Chapter 1 

FF.net link - AO3 link 

Beep Beep. beep Beep. Click

8:00 am. Hisoka rolled over in his queen-sized bed, groaning at the interruption of his beauty sleep. Setting an early alarm after editing until 2 am was a horrible idea.

He grabbed his phone from his nightstand and rolls onto his back, following his ritual of checking all his notifications in the morning. The video he had uploaded after editing was well received, many comments about how he should try more looks with purple eyeshadow. About 3 years ago he had started his channel “Bubblegumbitch Makeup” as more of a throwaway joke after someone insulted his makeup on Instagram. However, an audience grew quite quickly, and Hisoka had to admit that he enjoyed the attention and luxury of it all. Making money by sitting in front of a camera and applying Makeup while people tell you how good looking you are is a great ego boost.

Half-heartedly he scrolled through his subscription feed, just to see what his competition was up to, though barely anyone had really uploaded during the night. Amateurs and their 'healthy' sleep schedules. A true influencer knows that an audience never sleeps.

 He disregarded his phone somewhere into the pile of pillows that make up his bed and made his way into the bathroom. His morning showers are more functional than enjoyable, quickly rinsing on whatever spirits of sleep may linger on him.

After that, the Makeup artist applied his usual morning creams, body lotion, towel dries his hair, and threw on a pair of grey low-waist sweats and a comfortable white razor-back shirt. Need. Coffee.

 Hisokas flat was a quaint little thing just outside of Rieti. An open imitation marble kitchen, facing the living room equipped with a black leather couch and wall mounted flat screen TV, opening to a relatively small balcony housing a few plants.

Exiting his bedroom, he grabbed the TV remote and switched unto a random morning news show, just needing background noise while he waits for his coffee to brew.

"And preparations are running wild for the annual Fashion Week in Rome. This year the line-up features many new promising designers from all over the globe. Tune in at 10 for more-"

The fashion week! Hisoka grinned, having nearly forgotten about this important event that he had always followed closely. Though rarely attending himself, he had been requested on multiple occasions as a make-up artist for certain models. But there was something more important connected to that special week. He grabbed his fresh cappuccino and strolled back to his room, fishing his phone from the depths of pillow mountain.

"Hisoka: Gooooood Morning! Roma's Fashion Week is coming up, are you going to stop on by? ~"

It didn’t take long before his phone chimed with the familiar Ping of a private Message.

“Bellissimo <3: I will be going to the Show for 4 days. If it proves convenient, I’d drop by for a short collaboration.”

“Hisoka: I’ll be keeping my bed warm~♥️”

“Bellissimo<3: Gross and unnecessary. I will book a room in my usual hotel in Rome. I’ll drop by for the Collaboration on Monday afternoon, and leave after.”

“Bellissimo<3: I will send you some sample pieces later, please come up with a look for one of them, and don’t just ‘wing it’ like last time.”

Hisoka giggled before disregarding his phone again. Illumi Zoldyck, breakthrough Fashion Designer from England, and eldest son of Zoldyck fashion magazine empire, who often uploaded videos of his artistic process on his channel “I. Zoldyck Fashion”. They had met 2 years ago, at a smaller Paris fashion show, the first one Hisoka ever attended. A model had requested Hisoka as her makeup artist, while Illumi had been working on a dress for her, and the two of them ended up working closely together to properly coordinate colours with each other. And though Illumi expressed great annoyance with Hisoka, they exchanged numbers, and started to make collab videos whenever they fell into the same place. Something about working together with Illumi got Hisokas heart racing. Seeing the camera-shy man get increasingly more frustrated with his antics was a joy that could hardly be topped.

But he didn’t have time to dwell in good memories and spine-tingling anticipation. He had work to do. And so once again he chucked his phone back into the pillow-cave system and made his way into his recording room.

It was a small office space, on one side an office Desk with a Desktop Computer, a couple of small succulent plants framing it, and a comfy black office chair. On the other side a set-up to record videos, with a white-pink gradient wall, a stainless white desk with a small mirror standing on it, and a less-comfy stool to sit on. In a smooth motion, Hisoka downed the rest of his coffee, set the cup aside, and started the camera. The night before he had laid out everything for his next video, a review for a new eyeshadow palette released by another Beauty Youtuber, still trying to get into the game. How Cute.

Hisoka clapped his hands together, putting on his best camera smile. “Hey, Scum! ~ Today I have a very special treat for you all. I got my hands on the new Togari Palette ‘Hunting for Your Dreams’, his first release.” He held up the shimmering silver case and opened it up for the camera to reveal 6 eyeshadows in various shades of orange and red. About half an hour and a couple try hard glamour shots later, Hisoka dropped the Palette with a grin, staring directly into the Camera. In addition to his signature Star and Teardrop under his eyes, he had attempted to imitate a flame-inspired eyeshadow look. “Well, this has been an absolute disaster. I feel like I’m losing clumps of eyeshadow every time I blink, and it feels sandy and irritating on my skin. But you have got to give it to Togari: I have never seen a Palette that features colours that are eye-biting and yet completely bland before. Though the surprise gift of a long, brown hair inside the sealed Palette wasn’t for me. But you know, if you see these Palettes in your local bargain bin, I’d say go for it.” He gave a cheeky wink, before rattling off his usual goodbyes, like and subscribe, yadda yadda.

Click.

Hisoka took the camera and set it by his computer. Before he could even think about editing, he must wipe away whatever the hell was in that shabby palette. Of course it wasn’t the worst make-up he had ever worn; it probably wouldn’t even make it in the bottom 10, he wasn’t here to make friends and spoon-feed his competition compliments. If a creator dares to churn out a subpar product, they have to deal with the consequences.

After practically subjecting himself to water torture via make-up remover towels, the man grabbed another whiteclaw from the fridge, and settled into his office chair. Digging through business emails was a boring, repetitive task, deleting promo-email after promo-email, practically begging him to promote some skin-care vitamins or boring phone app. Clicking the nails of his free hand against his desk, he tapped away at the delete button in a rhythm only known to him.

Finally reaching the bottom of his inbox, he switched to his private Inbox with a satisfied smile, an expected email already waiting for him. “From: I. Zoldyck: Roma Fashion Week Promos”.  To my private Email, dear Illumi? How shockingly Intimate~ Hisoka mocked in his head while opening the mail.  

“Hisoka.

Attached are 3 Designs I plan to show off at the show. Chose one for the collaboration and let me know in time.

Sincerely,

Illumi Zoldyck.”

Under his signature, 3 files were lined up, boringly titled “Design Roma 1/2/3”. Hisoka opened the first file and is greeted by a 2-piece suit with a light pink base colour, and blue-green flower highlights that frame the pockets and seams of the jacket, and the belt of the pants. Not bad, not bad.

The second file contained another 2-piece suit, this time with a black base colour, and a repeating roman-vase pattern in eye-catching blues, pinks, and oranges. Lovely pattern, and what a revealing jacket cut~. He was sure he had found his favourite, already planning a matching make-up look. But it wouldn’t hurt looking at the last design for pity, right?

Hisoka audibly gasped in a mixture of shock and flattery and laid a hand over his heart to complete the star performance. Staring back at him was a beautiful white-jeans design, patterned with colourful card-suits dotting the jacket and pants. The pattern was ever so slightly washed out, faking a vintage look. This is it. Mine. His heart was beating through his chest, and for the first time in a while he was truly speechless.

He had 3 more weeks until the show, but his mind was already bursting with inspiration, and when he later laid in bed, he couldn’t contain his grin as he texted.

“Hisoka: You already know which one im choosing~♥️♥️♥️”

 --------------------------------------------

Gon had been streaming for a good hour or so, talking excitedly to his chat about the new Season of Fortnite, admiring new skins that he was definitely going to try and get. Every new pass just meant a new challenge for him to prove himself, and it was undeniable that it was satisfying to work and game hard to get what he wanted. Just as he was about to ask chat if he should go another row, or change games for the night, a discord message drew his attention away.

“Kil: Yo, wanna team up? :p”

Filled with even more excitement, Gon returned his attention back to his stream. “Everyone, today we are going to feature a special guest!”