#extended stay room sales

[moonsaver]

Okay, wait, you know what? Yandere Sunday is terrifying.

Not physically. At least not until you push the very hard boundary he's kept.

Its very subtle when he eyes you. Whenever he comes up to you it's just casual conversation, pleasantries, and a few tidbits about some of the main tourist attractions. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He's terrifying in his status, aswell. The most important man on Penacony, almost too many things rest on his shoulders. A distant, fake warm gaze that he seems to put on to politely appease other people. He's well aware it creeps you out when he's talking to you. However, a bit into the conversation and he.. likes it. It's refreshing. Having to constantly read between the lines, find out someone's true intentions, negotiate constantly, and on top of that be polite for the sake of reputation,sharp and pointed words masked behind well-wishes.. it gets tiring. For once, your conversation seems to ease him. His fake smile is slowly taken over by a small, but real one. Oh, dear.. you have to leave? What a shame. You should check out the dreamscape. Him and The Family have worked very hard on it. He's sure you'll like some of the tourist spots he's personally recommended.

The dreamscape is lively and bustling, the wide expanse of it almost bizarre. Careful, or the crowd will sweep you away before you know it! And suddenly there's the Bloodhound family guards that are helping you so graciously, out into a variety of secluded and serene spots,which you remember Sunday having mentioned in the conversation..

And well, there's this feeling. Something's watching you. It's not the giant eyeball with the strange memory sales, unfortunately. And the feeling follows you around everywhere. Even when you were sure you were alone, in some or the other secluded spot. You ponder for a moment if it's just the guards keeping their eyes on a newbie who might cause trouble, but they seem disinterested and not engaged unless necessary. Certainly, even their gazes can't feel this heavy?

Of course, how would you know? Watching you flutter about is apparently a satisfying past time, according to Sunday. A stoic and unchanging face, many things circulating behind his eyes. Your uncomfortable face is.. strangely fascinating to Sunday. Something feels abnormal in the space between his ribs. He loves having you in his sights, the comfort of knowing where you are, what you are constantly doing.. isn't it romantic, too? He's essentially taking care of you. If anyone asks – well.. You're one of his guests, personally invited by The Family to Penacony. It's his responsibility to make sure of your well-being, no?

And oh, dear.. you don't look so well. You haven't been sleeping, have you? Its the first thing Sunday comments on when he sees you at the bar, face in your hands as your sleep-deprived mind makes you dizzy. You do understand it's essential to sleep well, not just to function efficiently, but for your general wellbeing? Its alright, he understands. He can deploy further safety measures if you feel your security is compromised. He hopes, "you do not mind the continuous pestering of the Bloodhound family guards", do you? They'll keep you company in The Reverie, and The Dreamscape, too. A danger to you poses a danger to every guest, please do comply to these.. compromising circumstances, will you?

And, unfortunately for you, reports just came in. Looks like investigation has to be done, and your stay in Penacony has been extended! Don't worry – just talk to him directly, and let him know if you have any problems. Oh? You need to be locked up in your room for a certain part of the investigation? That's a shame. Perhaps he can just finish up his work a bit quickly and keep you company? Hm? Oh, no, dear. He can't just command them to not do that. Oh? No one else seems to be getting investigated? Well.. they're quite important figures, you know! Whole planets need to stop their work for them to have a day off, and besides.. You're probably in more danger than them. Of course.. you wouldn't think being alone with Sunday of all people would have been a safer option, would you?

[whousestypewriters]

you know you love me - m.t x reader

pairing: michael townsend x fem!reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: swearing :)

a/n: as i said im breaking out of this slump so BOOM! two fics in a row

taglist: @reminiscentreader, @ravenclawdirectioner, @zenikswaffleshop, @off-to-the-r4ces, @lxvebelle

@emelia07,

when michael had suggested that you two go in a date for your anniversary you had agreed. when michael had suggested he plan the date for the anniversary you had reluctantly agreed.

right now?

you're regretting it.

"michael," you say entering the room. "what the fuck is this?"

"its your very own personal shop," the little shit says grinning widely. he's crouching in front of a upturned plastic box with a lopsided sign and his scrawly handwriting covering it. packets of food and pillows are thrown around the room creating an absolute mess.

"my own shop?"

"yes. your own shop. and after you visit 'michael's magical museum of food' you can make your way over to the 'comfort express' and watch a movie with your favorite human..."

"mic-"

"AND THEN! we're going to make pasta and cake." he proudly puts his hands on his hips, seemingly unaware of the - or very much aware just choosing to ignore it - mess he made. "whatdoyouthink?" he rushes out still grinning. "and don't say you don't love it i can read your emotions."

you give him a knowing look. "can you tell what this emotion is?"

he studies your face for a second. "yes. you're super happy about my anniversary date plan and you love me even more." he taps his brain. "see i told you."

sighing you drop you bag at the door and make you way to his little shop. "alright lets do this." you look at the options he has smushed onto the box and feel a wave of love at the boy giving you a sales pitch on each snack. he's chosen your favorite snacks.

"i'll take one of everything!" you declare after he finishes trying to sell you a clearly overpriced packet of candy.

"alright, that'll be..." he pretends to add that into his cardboard cash register and then turns back to you. "one kiss."

"really? wow thats super cheap!"

"you're right, i'm sorry. it's five kisses."

"nuh uh uhh," you tut. "you can't go back now. one kiss."

"five."

"one."

"four."

"one."

"three."

"one."

"two."

"one."

"two."

"one."

"just let me have this."

"fine two."

"deal." michael extends his hand to shake and the second you grab it he's pulls you down into a soft kiss. you've been with michael for a year now and he still makes you breathless every time you kiss him.

when you pull apart he grins. "thats one down, i'm saving the next one for later." he stands up to gather the snacks but ends up making the sign fall down. "oh noo! not my sign!" he pouts for two seconds before he grabs you hand and the snacks and launches onto the bed.

"for tonights movie we shall be watching tangled."

grinning you shuffle closer to him as he sets up a little semi-circle of snacks around you and leans back to let you rest your head on his chest.

you both stay that way for most of the movie, eating and laughing with each other until around halfway, when michael presses a kiss onto your head and whispers. "happy anniversary, baby. i love you."

you smile peacefully, "love you too."

"even if i trash your room trying to be cute?"

"no definitely not then. in fact i hate anyone who does that."

"you know you love me."

"yeah i do," you sigh smiling.

"even when i leave your room looking like a dump?" he asks again.

"even then michael."

a/n pt2: hehe hope you liked it (im going to bed now lolol its now 11:40pm so yeah)

[perfectlyoongi]

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who every night, after dinner, watched an episode of a turkish soap opera with you. even when Jimin was busy, he always made sure to spend an hour with you after dinner. sometimes even without dinner, Jimin would sit with you on your sofa and attentively watch this turkish soap opera that you found by mere chance. it was a small tradition of yours that gave rise to several conversations of conspiracies and hunches that could last endless nights. for an hour every night, Jimin was by your side. even when the episode got repetitive or your internet didn’t allow for a trouble-free night, Jimin didn’t care — in a way, it was that time every night that really made Jimin grateful for being born in a time where you were with him. . “i managed to get home in time for the soap opera. what? did you think i wouldn’t come today? you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who makes housework a competition. taking care of the house was always a task that brought a lot of trouble; so, in an attempt to ward off laziness, Jimin suggested making this obligation something fun. each task had its points and, at the end of the week, the points were all added up to determine a winner — whoever lost always had to take care of doing the laundry. as silly as this idea was, the truth is that it worked. every week, you and Jimin would dive into some domestic chore, adding points to your score and always teasing the other when one of you had the advantage. it was something childish, you knew, but it was something fun and something that made you grateful to have someone as creative, as fun, as hardworking as Jimin as your roommate. “today i made dinner. that’s more.....five points. i’m already at fifteen. if you don’t hurry you’ll have to wash my smelly socks. work with that in mind.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always eats what you cooked, even if it turned out badly. as a friendship began to grow between the two of you, you and Jimin agreed that you would take turns cooking. whether you were a good cook or were still learning the ropes of cooking, Jimin was always ready to try your food. sometimes a little burnt, often salty and sometimes a little bland, your food was eaten by Jimin without any complaints. always praising your hands that created that food, always looking for something positive to point out when the food was less good, Jimin was always the first to eat and the last to leave the table. he wanted to make sure you knew that this effort of yours was appreciated — whether it was good or bad. “it smells good in here. are you making soup? oh, a new recipe? i can’t wait to taste some of your creation.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always tried to find board games for two people. although each of you lived in your respective room, the truth was that there were always shared moments in the living room or kitchen, moments that were filled with laughter and joy. and, in an attempt to extend that good mood, Jimin always stopped at the game store, looking among so much variety for a board game that could make your nights even more fun. puzzles, quiz games or something more classic like jenga, the truth is that there were several days when Jimin came home with a new game wanting to be played by you. “i went to the store and saw this game on sale. it’s an escape room but a board game version. what do you say? are you ready to realize how stupid we truly are?”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always asks your opinion about his outfit before leaving the house. whether it was to work, go out or just buy bread, Jimin couldn’t leave the house without having his outfit approved by you. always invading your room without deigning to knock, Jimin would always stay at the foot of your bed, turning around once or twice to show you all his clothes and then he would remain static, staring at you. with his thumbs raised on both hands and his eyes shining with anticipation, Jimin said nothing, just stood there, looking at you, waiting for a reaction and response from you. and it was with a smile on your lips and a fake irritated tone that you always gave your honest opinion. “you see, i have an important meeting today. what do you say? too formal? needs more color? you want to pick out other pants? come to my room and try to find some more decent socks. come.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who always asks you if you want to go with him whenever he leaves the house. Jimin enjoyed your company. inside the house, you were like a best friend to Jimin and all the good cheer you brought with you was intoxicating, always making Jimin want more from you. as such, when he left the house to buy a quick dinner or hang out with his friends, Jimin would always ask if you wanted to go with him, only stopping being annoying when you accepted his invitation. for Jimin, a day was only good in your company, whether it was five minutes to the store, or endless hours in bars and friends’ houses. with you there, Jimin was fine. with you there, Jimin was happy. “i’m going to the grocery store to buy more lettuce. do you want to come with me? it’s cooler outside than in here, come on. you need to get some fresh air. get out of your phone and come with me, come on.”

ROOMMATE!JIMIN who said he liked you when you were writing to the moon. it was common for the two of you to do various activities together — it was how you passed the time without getting sick of each other’s company. so, that night, when you and Jimin were writing on a plate everything you wanted to leave behind, Jimin decided to speak. he blamed the moon for his outburst, but the truth is that those words Jimin said to you had been eating him up inside for a long time. before you went to the park and broke the dishes in a symbolic act, Jimin held the sleeve of your coat when you were going to get the keys and just declared himself. “i think venting to the moon has made me more sentimental, but the truth is i have something to tell you. something i should have told you a long time ago. it’s… you know, i like you in a way that’s more intense than just a simple friendship from home. i don’t know if you understand me, but that’s it. the moon asked me to talk to you today and i couldn’t say no.”

[astarions-wife]

Amanita Szarr, theory and history:

-We know that she was the niece of Cazador, summoned to him at 13 and forcibly turned into a vampire (vampire spawn? It’s never confirmed if she’s a true vampire or a spawn).

-It’s said her entire extended family was there, watching as he summoned and turned her. It’s mentioned somewhere that she lived out of the city in a country estate, raised by her servants. Her parentage is unknown, though clearly one of them was the sibling of Cazador, since Amanita is his niece by blood.

-She resisted at first, being locked away in the attic for a year before she eventually gave in to drinking human blood out of starvation, resulting in her killing and drinking a captive that was sent up there.

-This is when she rejected the Szarr name, and declared herself “Lady Incognita”, hiding her past likely out of guilt, and disgust for what they’d made her.

-She stayed in the attic by choice after this, and wrote her “little histories” as she called them.

-Amanita/Incognita was turned in 1477, the game takes place in 1492. It’s been 15 years since she was turned, though considering vampires don’t age—she’s still a 13 year old.

-She’s responsible for the books “Diseses of the Blood”, “The Tourmaline Depths”, and “Vampires before Vellioth”.

-These books are about diseases that vampires can get, ancient tunnels below the city, and a list of vampires that came before Vellioth (Cazador’s former Master).

-Bonus fun fact, there is in fact a random ring called “Tourmaline Ring” in BG3. The ring doesn’t have any function, and I was able to locate it for sale at a vendor in act 1, but it’s still an interesting coincidence.

-Her book “diseases of the blood” can be located in the House of Hope, though she’s very clearly not among the souls there, so it’s unknown how it arrived to such a place.

Potential Theories on what happened to her:

-In the ballroom of the palace, there are two doors. The door to the kitchen is open, and the ladder here leads to the attic where you can find the multiple hidden doors that contain the rooms Amanita stayed in (for at least most of her years), as well as the torture room she was turned(?) or at least kept in for awhile.

-The dining room is closed off. The only way to access this is to send a companion into the kitchen to hit a button. This button closes off the kitchen door, and opens the dining room.

-Considering there aren’t any bodies in the kitchen, and the only servants in the house are in other rooms nowhere near the ballroom, it’s clear that someone had to open/close the door.

-There are bodies in the dining room, all of which were guests summoned to the party that evening. One of them was “hired” to play music, but Cazador’s werewolves brutally murdered all the party guests.

-It was definitely not Cazador or the other spawn responsible for opening/closing doors. By the time you get to the palace, it’s ritual night—and all the other spawn are captive in the basement with Cazador, awaiting the final piece (Astarion) to complete it.

-It’s possible that Amanita is the one responsible for controlling the doors at the party, though unconfirmed if she killed anyone (it seems more likely the job of the werewolves).

-Could Amanita have been sent down to be the “host” of the party, since Cazador obviously wasn’t around to play fake-noble for the day? It’s unclear, but I do suspect she (might) have been connected.

-In the dining room you can move the fancy chest to find a hatch to another part of the basement. Noticeable here is that Astarion doesn’t have any voice lines about this as he does the other one, though it’s safe to assume he also doesn’t know this existed (and when were the Spawn ever allowed in the dining room anyway?)

-The basement here leads to a very famously broken puzzle, that no one has solved (supposedly support says it’s broken, hoping it’s fixed one day soon).

-The key to this hatch is found in the attic, so it’s safe to assume Amanita was connected to this too? However without confirmation, it’s hard to say for sure. And would you really go through a puzzle that hard just to find her corpse if she was dead? Doubtful, in my opinion.

-It doesn’t seem that she’s one of the spawn connected to the ritual. She never mentions any of it in her writings, and some of her earlier attic notes very clearly detest Cazador, so she’s not holding back her emotions/thoughts at all.

-She was also allowed, and given human blood. None of the seven original spawn were fed human blood, and none of the seven thousand spawn were fed at all. She was likely only given this treatment because she was his niece.

-I don’t believe she escaped the palace in general, even with her book in the House of Hope. I feel like Raphael would’ve said something about knowing a Szarr, or we would’ve found more than a book tossed in a pile.

-Talks of escape were usually noted in the palace, with Leon (one of the spawn) having been plotting in a journal to have his daughter escape, but she was inevitably killed before this could happen.

-Amanita never discusses leaving. She seems like she feels as though she can’t be normal ever again with what was done to her, and chooses to stay there so she doesn’t have to face the world.

-I believe (perhaps in delusion) that Amanita is still alive. Perhaps she’s hidden away in the basement. Perhaps she’s hiding in an unknown part of the castle, truly we don’t know—but I do believe she’s alive.

-Side Note: It was a theory that she could’ve been turned into a scroll, as there’s a scroll in the palace that mentions “for my sins, I’m ink on this page until you free me”, however it’s not signed. Amanita/Incognita was very clear on signing her work, and the scroll isn’t anything you can use/interact with, so this theory is largely since debunked.

-Feel free to add onto this if I’m missing anything! Amanita is one of my favorite unknown characters, and I really want to know more about her!!! :)

[fallingblueroses]

Another little piece of Geoff and Kathy's transformation.

***

Layne drove Geoff back to his house as he lay in the backseat and desperately held on to his human form. Breathing was a struggle and he had to constantly swallow back vomit. His hands were tightly wrapped around the door handle for a focal point.

Layne glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Almost there, Geoff."

Geoff nodded. "Okay." His voice was raw and gutteral, and he barely recognized it as his own.

Time seemed to stretch out to unbearable lengths as Layne drove on, but he finally stopped and shut the car off. "We're here. Come on." He helped Geoff out of the car and steadied him as they went in the house.

Geoff went in first, and Layne shut the door behind them. The sound acted as a trigger and Geoff fell to his knees, unable to keep the changes back anymore. His breath came in harsh gasps as his body convulsed, and for a few seconds he struggled to stay awake. Layne's hand fell on his shoulder, and Geoff gratefully reached up and held it.

To his shock he smelled Eli coming before he heard the tenor's voice. "Layne?"

"It's us," Layne called. He helped Geoff back to his feet, and Geoff frowned as he looked around. Everything felt a little wrong, even accounting for the obvious. He looked at Layne and jolted as he realized that he was looking down at the beatboxer. Layne had always been just slightly taller than Geoff, but now Geoff had a good three inches in height on him. Layne's eyes widened as he saw it too.

Eli swallowed as he noticed it. "Kathy and Cesar are in the living room."

Geoff nodded. "Thanks." He walked into the living room, and Kathy ran into his arms when she saw him. He held her close for a bit and then pulled back to look at her. She'd also grown in height a bit; they were still the same size relative to each other. Kathy's wings were smaller in proportion to her body, not extending so far above her head as Geoff's did.

Kathy's frightened eyes looked at him. "What's happening?"

He shook his head. "...I wish I knew." He pulled her close again and without thinking brought his wings up and around to cover her. Kathy sighed, put her arms around his neck, and relaxed against him.

After a bit Cesar cleared his throat. "This house isn't built on top of any old graveyards, is it?"

Geoff sighed. "No."

"You haven't been playing with Ouija boards? Bought any cursed artifacts at yard sales?"

"No and no."

"Haven't been cursed by any old witches? Drank any suspicious potions?"

"Not that I know of." Geoff gently pet Kathy's hair.

Cesar tried again. "Been around any nuclear power plants lately?"

"Nothing's happened." He kept petting Kathy's hair. It comforted him as much as it did her.

"Well something had to have done this," Cesar said.

"It was just a normal day, until I started getting hot," Geoff said. He rested his head against Kathy's.

Kathy murmured against his chest. "We need to pick up William from school."

"I'll call Cyndi and have her pick him up along with Doris," Layne said. "...Do you want him to stay with me for a while?"

A jealous pang went through Geoff, and Kathy shook her head. "No. I want my baby."

Layne nodded. "All right. I'll go call her." He stepped out of the living room.

Geoff sighed and looked at Eli and Cesar. "...You might as well go home. Nothing you can do right now."

Eli slowly nodded. "I'll check in with you guys later."

"All right."

"Call us if you need anything," Cesar said. Goodbyes were exchanged and the two of them left. Layne left soon afterward to return to PattyCake, and Geoff and Kathy sat on the couch and waited for William to come home.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Azul Ashengrotto Tsumsitter Personal Story: Part 1

"A Moment with Azultsum I"

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Mostro Lounge – VIP Room]

Azul: Fufu, I feel as though I've gained a greater understanding of this Tsum's cooking and decision-making skills…

Azul: And now that I've finished placing the additional preorders… I suppose I should start heading back towards the Lounge.

[Mostro Lounge]

Azul: Wh-What is going on!? The Mostro Lounge is completely packed!

Azul: It was well within my calculations that we'd have an increase in customers with the Tsum here, but… How has this happened so quickly in such a short amount of time…?

Savanaclaw Student: Hey, can't we get a seat yet?

Pomefiore Student: Hurry up, I wanna see that cute thing I keep hearing about.

[chattering]

Azul: The queue even extends outside the Lounge?

Azul: Hm? That's…

[Azultsum bounces around]

Azul: While I was off ordering supplies and ingredients…

Azul: The Tsum was instructed to stay near the storefront as our adorable mascot.

Azul: What are Jade and Floyd doing, allowing it to roam around as it pleases?

[Azultsum nudges a student]

Azul: The Tsum is pressing one of the Lounge's menus onto a customer?

Heartslabyul Student: H-Hey, stop it. If you keep trying to forcibly push me like that…

Heartslabyul Student: There's no way I'd be able to not order anything! You're too cute!

Azul: What?

Heartslabyul Student: Excuse meee! I'd like to order! Can I get a refill of my drink, and… Also a dessert!

Azul: What in the…

Floyd: Ohhh? Hey, it's Azul. What're you doin' just standing around while we're runnin' around all busy?

Jade: Oh, you've returned. I hadn't noticed due to our little café being much more swamped than usual.

Azul: Jade, Floyd, what is happening here?

Jade: I think you can clearly see what exactly is happening here.

[Azultsum presses a menu against another student]

Scarabia Student: Ah, yeah. The way you push that up against me like that…

Scarabia Student: It's too cute, dammit!  Bring me another drink―

Jade: We've had customer after customer become simply enthralled by how the Tsum eagerly presses the menus onto them with its tiny body…

Jade: Everyone is placing orders left and right, like you wouldn't believe.

Floyd: Yeah, and it's 'cause of that I'm super tired.

Floyd: And if we left Jade's Tsum out on the main floor, it'd prolly just ransack the place, so we had to put it to work in the kitchen.

Jade: That Tsum was so eager to assist us out here, too. It seemed so disappointed that its helping hand was slapped away.

Jade: But putting that aside, if we continue at this pace, we expect our sales to increase by 5 times the usual amount.

Azul: 5 times!?

Azul: True, when Floyd's Tsum was here last, sales increased threefold. Are you telling me that we've already surpassed that amount?

Azul: I should expect nothing less from a Tsum that bears my likeness. I am elated it has great business acumen…!

Jade: Isn't it quite an astonishing amount?

Azul: Indeed. This is a fantastic outcome! I shall have to heap praise onto that Tsum later!

Azul: If it would continue to generate such high profits like this, I would wish that we could keep my mini-me Tsum here forever.

Azul: Ah, and of course, Jade and Floyd. You've both done a fantastic job.

Azul: The increase in sales is all thanks to the two of you allowing the Tsum to do as it pleases!

Floyd: Ahah. It's so rare for you to openly and honestly compliment us like this. Must've been super happy, huh.

Jade: I'm honored by your praise. Incidentally, Azul, would you allow us to suggest something?

Azul: Suggest what?

Jade: We would like to entrust the ownership of the Mostro Lounge to the Tsum.

Jade: That is, in your stead

Azul: Wh-What!?

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by @pianostarinwonderland and @symphonyprincessuta.

[delopsia]

this just popped into my head 🫢💭 and so soon after the last one i’m so sorry 💐😮‍💨✨🥹💕 but—

what are our trios love languages? i don’t totally know how it works? so i guess i’m just wondering how you think they best give / show their love, and what they respond to best that makes them think, “this person really loves me...” 🥹

!!!Love languages 😭🌷

It's a little hard to speak on the reader's love language since not every reader may have the same language, but I shall do my best here 💃

Bobby, quality time. Arguably the worst love language one can have, being in the Navy and all, but there is nothing Bobby loves more than spending time with those he loves.

He's not particularly fussy about how, for the most part, he's just happy to be there. You can take him along to do some shopping and returns, and he's all smiles because!! hey! he gets to spend time with you!

But he really loves when the Reader and Rhett are the ones to initiate plans with him, going to the movies together, planning a vacation, a quick walk to the park, and back. Even being invited on an impromptu day of errands and dinner is nice; there's something so nice about being included, even if it's something mundane.

And if they indulge in his hobbies with him? Rhett asking Bobby if he wants to watch that sci-fi series tonight? The Reader making plans to take them all to that renaissance festival Bob's been dying to go to? It has his belly filling with butterflies and his cheeks warming up.

Likewise, he expresses his love through similar avenues. Taking time out of his busy schedule to get lunch with the Reader every Tuesday, venturing up to the sale barn with Rhett, even though that means he'll lose some sleep. Though he does dabble into physical touch as well. Doesn't always know what to do with his arms, but he's more than happy with snuggling Rhett on the couch and letting the Reader lay on top of him whenever they feel like it.

He's the type to volunteer to watch favorite movies when one of his partners is upset, and he's more than happy to simply be a warm presence in the room if they need it.

"Do you want me to stay with you?"

Rhett, physical touch. You can imagine how rough this made things for him when the relationship was long distance.

Rhett's always got to be touching someone. Holding the Readers hand, resting his chin over Bob's shoulder, he'll even settle for shoulders touching. If one of his partners is upset or feeling low, his first instinct is to snuggle up to them. Headache? Time for a nap together. The reader is missing Bobby during his deployment? He's cuddling up with the Reader on the couch until their nightly phone call with the ol' WSO.

In particular, there's nothing quite like surprise touches for him. Something unprompted that he didn't have to ask for. The reader giving him back hugs. Bobby deciding that now is the time for a wrestling match. Sudden showers of kisses from both of his partners, just because.

But there are two very particular things that make him feel loved. Cuddling and public affection. He loves being snuggled on the couch or having someone hold him in their arms throughout the night. It's so close and intimate, and his brain practically shuts off. While public affection mostly extends to chaste kisses and hand holdings, nothing extreme, just something that screams, "Hey, this cowboy belongs to someone."

Rhett's never been particularly good with words; it's a wonder he can even read half of the time. Instead, his 'I love you' comes in the form of big, never-ending hugs, rubbing noses, resting his chin over shoulders and watching what they're doing, and heads resting on chests. Closeness.

This especially comes out when someone is upset because he has no idea what to say. So rather than speaking, he'll sidle up to Bobby or the Reader and wrap an arm around them. If they want to talk, that's fine, but he's not going to be pressing further than a "What's wrong?" and a "I've got you. I'm here."

Just some snuggly fools who'd love nothing more than to spend time with the reader on the couch 💐

[thefreakymunson]

Anyhwere But Here, Chapter 16

Taglist: @rockautumnviking @hazzaismyreligion @iratetourist @xcatnapsx @haylaansmi @iamaslutforcoffee @tlclick73 @eclipseeetop @lullaapots @benztripp @micheledawn1975 @fuckmeupeds @edsforehead @livasaurasrex @prozacandnicotine @shinydixon @hellfirefiend @anaisweird @spookygally @morganamoonstone @leather-n-velvet @harringtonfan4 @gaysludge @eddiemunson95 @nullampuella @hanahkatexo Anywhere But Here Masterlist

It had taken a week of house searching before you found one you two actually liked.  It was a two-story house with a big fenced in back yard, on the outskirts of Hawkins.  It was away from busiest parts, but close enough to still get to whatever was needed.  You loved the house as soon as you saw it. 

“You sure you want to stay in Hawkins?” You had asked Eddie before you met with the realtor.

“I don’t want to leave my uncle,” Eddie had said softly, “Other than you three, he’s the only family I’ve got.”

And that was enough to seal the deal for you.  Family had never been important to you, really.  Your parents disowned you for not going to college and you were sure that the rest of the family hated you as well. It was time to move on from that, time to look towards the future and the family you were creating.

“Last one, babe.” Eddie said with a small smile as he toted the heavy brown box out of your front door. 

It was a bittersweet goodbye, leaving the home you bought nearly 5 years ago all on your own, but it was for the right reasons.  You placed a hand over your small baby bump, sighing softly.  All the right reasons. 

Madison came squealing down the hallway, her footsteps thudding on the hardwood floors.  She ran straight to you, arms extended up for you to pick her up.  She giggled when you threw her up in the air, her laughter echoing over the empty house. You kissed her rosie cheek and sat her down, watching as she skipped out the front door down to where Eddie was standing by the truck waiting on her.

2 months ago, you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of leaving your home for good and tacking the for sale sign to it, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. 

“You coming?” Eddie asked as he placed Madison in her car seat.

You turned to look at the moving truck and smiled to yourself.  They were the ones who felt like home now.  No matter where they were – that’s where you belonged. 

Unpacking was a chore but once the house started to take shape, you were loving the house more and more.  The first room you two worked on was Madison’s, pink and purples were everywhere.  Everything was going great for once. 

The first night in your home, you helped Madison to bed and went to take a shower.  When you came back downstairs, you found various candles lit around the room, creating a soft amber glow.  Eddie looked up to see you standing at the foot of the stairs, a small smile on his face.

"What’s this about?” You grinned, walking over to him.

He pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist as he kissed your lips, “First night in our home…figured we could make it special, hm?”

You kissed him back with a quiet hum and then he stepped back, revealing a table of Chinese takeout on the only small table you had in the house at the moment.  At 10 weeks pregnant now, you had been craving anything and everything Chinese and he had you hooked on the only restaurant in town that served it.

You sat down on the ground beside of him and went to open the container when he spoke again.

“I’ve got two very important questions to ask you,” he said.  You looked over to see the hesitancy on his face, as if he was nervous for what else he had to say.

“Yeah?” You asked, reaching over to touch his thigh, “Everything okay?”

“This has been a crazy last 2 and a half months, yeah?” He laughed softly and took a deep breath, “I mean, I don’t think either of us expected this.  I know I didn’t, but I think it was meant for us to meet.  I mean, obviously, if you believe in fate…I didn’t believe in it until I met you.  I know this isn’t the traditional way to do this, but I just…I couldn’t wait any longer.  I’ve never loved anyone like I love you, Y/N.  I know I’ve fucked up…but I’m still learning to be in a healthy relationship. With the divorce being finalized, I realized I’ve never felt as secure as I do with you, ya know, safe.  Yeah, that’s it…I feel safe with you.  In the best way.”

You heard him sniffle and you slid closer to him, your hand squeezing his knee comfortingly.  It wasn’t often he opened up about his feelings.  He chose to bottle them up, something he learned to do to avoid Stacy’s bullshit no doubt.

“Close your eyes,” he said softly, “Please.”

When you done as he asked, you heard a bit of rustling before he spoke again and said, “Open them.”

It took you a minute to understand just what you were looking at, but when you did, you couldn’t stop the tears that fell down your face.  You turned to look at him, seeing his tears as well.

“I want to ask if you’d marry me?” Eddie’s voice cracked, “And adopt Madison?”

A ring box and adoption papers.

“Yes,” your cheeks hurt from smiling, “A million times yes, Eddie.”

“To both, yeah?”

“Of course to both!” You laughed, “Yes.”

He slid the ring on your finger, a beautiful diamond that was encrusted in smaller diamonds.  His fingers were as shaky as yours was and you both laughed at the sight of two trembling hands trying to put a ring on.

You basically jumped into his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you kissed him deeper this time, taking your time.  You had all the time in the world to spend with him, your fiancé, now. 

“How is the adoption process going to go?” You asked, “Stacy still-“

“I offered her a lump sum of money,” Eddie nodded, “I just wanted her out of my life.  She signed her rights away for 50 thousand dollars.  I’ll never tell Madison that…and it fucking pisses me off, but she’s gone from our lives now.  We don’t owe her shit.  We can give Mads the home she deserves, the mom she deserves, the family we all deserve.” Eddie wiped his eyes as he looked up at you, “I love you and I’m so fucking glad I found you.”

“I love you,” you smiled through your tears, pressing another soft kiss to his lips, “So fuckin’ much, Eds.”

You knew it was crazy.  The past few months had whipped by so fast, but in that moment, you wouldn’t have traded anything else for the family you were creating of your own. 

You were so caught up in him, the feeling of his lips on yours and the way his hands were sliding up and over your back that you didn’t hear Madison sneaking up on the two of you until she was standing right beside of you.

“Hi!” she said, causing both of you to jump. She cackled loudly at the fact that she scared the two of you.

“What are you doing out of bed, stink?” Eddie sighed, helping you move to sit beside of him.

“Thirsty,” she said, handing him her empty sippy cup, “Where’s unk at?”

“He’s at home, baby.” Eddie said as he stood up and tried to find wherever you had left the bottled water at amongst the mess of boxes.  He walked into the kitchen, grumbling about not being able to find anything.

“Home?” her bottom lip poked out and you could see the waterworks starting, “Not here?”

“No, not here.  This is our home.” You said as you stroked her hair back, “We live here and Wayne lives at his trailer.”

“He not say goodnight to me,” she said, big brown eyes staring up at you as the tears welled higher and her bottom lip trembled.

It was a big move for her.  Uncle Wayne’s trailer had been the only home she had known for her entire life.  You didn’t even think about how this must all be affecting her as well. 

“Do you want to call him?” You asked as you tucked her hair behind her ear, “Would that make you feel better, stink?”

“Mhm,” she nodded slightly, tucking her thumb into her mouth as she cuddled the pink rabbit in tighter to her.  You carried her over to the phone and dialed the number as Eddie came back into the living room, sippy cup full of water in tote.

“What’s happening?” Eddie asked, watching as Madison held the phone up to her ear.

“She’s sad because Wayne didn’t tell her goodnight,” you said softly, cuddling the small girl into your chest as you gently rocked her back and forth. 

You could hear the line trilling on the other end and then a very disgruntled, “Yeah?”

“Unk!” Madison sat up a bit, “Hi.  Miss you.”

“I miss you too, but what are you doing awake so late, stink?” You could hear it very faintly, but his demeanor changed into something soft and comforting.

"You not say goodnight to me,” she pouted.

“I’m real sorry about that, Mads.  You need to be in bed.  You need your princess sleep.” Wayne said, “Goodnight, Madison.  I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Okay,” her small voice came with a sleepy yawn, “Goodnight.”

Eddie took the phone before she hung it up and clarified that she was okay – this was an adjustment for everyone.  It would be a few restless nights, but you were confident that Maddie would warm up to being in her new home.

Madison rested her head on your shoulder, tucking her arms and her stuffed animal between the two of you as you rocked her back and forth, lulling her back to sleep as Eddie finished his conversation with Wayne.  It didn’t take long for her to be back asleep, chubby cheek pressed tightly against your chest. 

“You’re spoiling her,” Eddie gave you a small smile.

“She deserves to be spoiled,” you mumbled as you kissed her forehead.

“So much for a romantic night, hm?” Eddie laughed.

“Wouldn’t trade it for anything else, Eddie.”

[romirola]

W.I.P... Whenever, Whatever

Over the last few weeks, I’ve gotten tagged in a few W.I.P.W.s (thanks, friends! wonderful job, all), but I wasn’t able to share anything. I’ve been preparing for an important upcoming event and when I did have a bit of free time, I spent it working on some oneshot gifts as well as the Redacted Gift Exchange (shoutout to organizer of that event, @the-sugar-crash.) A few days ago, I finally finished drafting my contribution for the gift exchange, which means I was finally able to return to this longer Redacted fic I’ve been working on that has a few other snippets floating around my blog. All of this is a long-winded way to say, I’m sharing another excerpt of that fic today! Yay! For context, this is from a flashback chapter where Asher is seven years old and Milo is five years old. 

Since it took me forever to respond to the tag, I’ll leave this as an open tag! Want to share a bit of something you’re creating! Please go for it (and tag me so I can see your lovely work!)

As requested, tagging @lovelylonerliterature, @itsdaifuku, and @dominimoonbeam in all material related to this currently-untitled story. (If you’d like a tag, please let me know and I’ll be happy to add you. 

Milo was about to ask Asher what was inside of the jar, but before he could, a tall man with wavy, auburn hair entered the kitchen. “Asher,” his deep voice boomed, startling Milo. “Is your mother home, too? You didn’t leave her at the store, did you? I-” His gray eyes fell on Milo. “Oh. Hello there, lad!” He raised an eyebrow at his son, silently demanding an explanation as to what was going on. “Were you on sale at the supermarket today?” 

Asher laughed, endlessly amused by his father’s sense of humor. “Dad!” he groaned, elongating the word into two syllables. 

With a bit of a nervous chill going down his spine, Milo realized that this was the first time he was meeting someone new all by himself. Usually, one of his parents or sister was there with him. Milo believed he had seen Asher’s father before, but sometimes, it was difficult to know who was who in the pack, especially when it came to the adults. Just as his parents had always told him to do, Milo tentatively extended his short arm up to Ciaran and looked him directly in the eyes. “I’m Milo Greer.” 

Never one to leave a fellow wolf hanging, Ciaran took Milo’s tiny hand in his own and shook firmly. “Ah, Milo!” he smiled. “Colm's and Marie's boy! How could I have forgotten? I know you from pack meetings, been seeing you since you were a wee pup, no bigger than my hand.” Although the boy seemed to have inherited Marie’s svelte features, the brown eyes were a dead ringer for Colm’s. “Now look at you! A fine young man if I ever saw one,” he commented. “I’m Ciaran O’Connell. Pleased to meet you properly.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Milo repeated, just as he heard his father often do. 

“Milo’s gonna stay with us!” Asher burst excitedly. 

Puzzled, Ciaran forced himself to keep a smile on his face, even as his mind raced with what Asher could’ve possibly meant by that statement. “Is that so?” he asked. Without pausing long enough for Asher or Milo to answer, he continued. “Asher, I take it that your mother’s outside?” He was taking wide strides to the door before he finished the question. “Aíne!” he called, panic and confusion lacing his call to his wife. “Aíne, dear?” He stepped outside, not bothering to put on shoes. “Aíne, did we just adopt the Greer boy?!”

Unperturbed, Asher turned to Milo. “Wanna see my room?”

[comicsforyall]

Gene Colan Saves Daredevil, Pedal to the Devil #2

The Man Without Fear, or a Consistent Artist Halfway through his introductory run of Daredevil, Stan Lee faced two looming threats, artistic consistency and painful mediocrity. For the entire preceding run of the series, Lee had been unable to nail down long term artists. This resulted in a cycle of the book coming to a screeching halt just as it is picking up speed. The chemistry and collaboration between writer and artist never seemed to truly click, with the slight exception of John Romita Sr. However even Romita’s run would be quite short at the end of the day compared to Lee himself. Despite the rotating bullpen of artists, the book always looked good and the art was never distracting or particularly lacking. Being passable actually highlighted the main issue facing The Man Without Fear, his identity.

As outlined in the previous post for this series, there is a certain amount of crossover between Daredevil and Spider-Man design wise, with their bright red costumes and contraptions to swing across the city. Add on top that Matt Murdock doesn’t have flashy powers, and throw in some truly generic villains, and you have a recipe for the blandest superhero comic around, especially with Spidey on sale at the same time. The saving grace of the first half of Lee’s run is the melodramatic plots and character beats which essentially bookend each issue.

Nearly two years in though, something seems to click and the book makes some big changes. First and foremost, Gene Colan is brought in on pencils for the remainder of Lee’s run, barring the final issue, which is forgivably given to Barry Smith. Colan’s work will elevate the book from an amusing bit of entertainment history into a more digestible modern experience. Next to the artistic jump, the stories will actually revert, almost re playing the hits.

The plots bring back older villains, and puts the characters into positions where their development retreads, but does so with much more intention and room to breathe. It is as though the story takes a step back and realizes that it’s going to be much more long running than the creator’s initially predicted, and as a result attempts to flesh out the ideas that have already been presented. This rehashing may seem tedious to some, but the overall package is so much more enjoyable, it arguably turns the book around for the better.

Karen, Matt, and Foggy

The cast of Daredevil stays relatively consistent as the series extends past year two, despite the character’s frequent assertions and attempts to the contrary. Each of the main trio makes their own bold exit from the central law office, for varying durations and to differing degrees of dramatic success. The messy law office thrives off spontaneous decisions and some deep traumas.

There’s not a lot of personality deviation from their introduction, each keeping a facade of the mild mannered office worker, while sharing more petty and self serving thoughts with the reader. Instead of sweeping changes Lee opts to run back each of the characters and hit their best beats again and more thoroughly. The relationship between Matt and Karen, Foggy and Daredevil, or any of the cast’s career pursuits are mirrors of the previous storylines, but with more vibrant art and extended time.

This approach makes sense if the title and company was gaining lots of readers back on the publication date. There’s a good chance Lee and company had no idea which of Marvel’s characters would last for decades as opposed to months, so they would lead with their best foot forward. It does sap a bit of energy from the story’s momentum once the parallels become clear, but the extra development time elevates the neat aspects of the first portion of the run into genuinely captivating ideas.

The group is flawed and weird and petty and perfect. The three are all far from paragons of virtue, with a hundred things for which each one of them could be criticized. Their worse actions though are always clearly fueled by insecurities and personal woes, in a way that keeps the reader betting on these losing dogs. As the readthrough progresses hopefully there will be some long term shifts in the dynamics of the main group, as there will definitely be tonal changes for the entire book.

Mike Murdock, the True Daredevil

The most enjoyable story beat that Lee hammers home through his run is the third alter ego of Matt Murdock and Daredevil, that of his own twin brother Mike. With a completely flipped, extroverted personality, Mike does and says everything that Matt doesn’t. He zings Foggy and treats Karen with both open admiration and misogyny, which he otherwise would hold back. The interactions with Mike are consistently funny, and become quite distinct when conceptualizing just how broken a man has to be to deceive his two closest friends into thinking he is his own twin brother.

Matt, who is secretly Mike, who is secretly Daredevil, who is secretly blind, who secretly is also… Thor? The idea of a secret identity is explored rigorously by this series, and in many ways finds the limits of the concept. The book sees just about every combination of fake outs and surprise reveals between alter egos and costume swaps. Unfortunately superhero comics will fail to recognize tired tropes in perpetuity, making the entire concept feel a little like something that’s been seen before. However nothing out stays its welcome in regards to Mike, and the sheer absurdity of making an alternate personality such a prominent aspect of the story is an effective hook.

Beauty in Simplicity

For this run of Daredevil there is a distinct setup of a status quo vs unexpected interruption dynamic. Essentially the issue to issue plot revolves around the three person law office, vigilante and all, facing a threat that will upset their established everyday routine. Whether it’s a maniacal villain trying to murder Daredevil or a job opportunity for Karen, the obstacles facing the characters tend to be surprises that put the protagonist on the back foot. There is no overarching goal to the series or the hero, and they are both placed in positions where they are reacting as opposed to pursuing a specific end.

The organization of the story saps a lot of the narrative drama, as it is clear that most things will return to normal quite quickly, if there is even substantive change to begin with. However what it does establish is a reusable base, one that the creative team can use to create a consistent and long running comic. The tone and main cast become relatable and thorough as they are continually explored.

Each arc lasts only a few issues and generally starts with the simple premise of a vigilante and his law office. Quickly the convulsions of the series are added, with the heroes being as messy as the villains, and then all is right and finished with a bow at the end, and the good guy winning. The repetition makes binge reading a bit of a slog, but would have worked well for continually drawing in new readers or as a weekly pick up. The interactions are witty, the plots are bonkers, and the main drag for the series is it does not feel fresh.

Get Your Words Outta My Comic

The nearly twenty five issues of idling story are almost entirely saved by the work of the series' new artist Gene Colan. The step up in consistency and quality are an equal testament to improved comic making and maintaining a primary artist, as well as to the talent of Colan. When the plot is less than engaging, the propelling force of the book really falls to the art. In the case of Colan’s run he rises to the occasion, and brings Lee up with him. The longtime writer may be at the peak of his dialogue powers in this run, writing smart wit and snark more than obtuse unnecessary descriptions.

The fact may be that Colan’s vibrant and clear illustrations simply did not necessitate any of the extraneous bubbles explaining what the art is meant to be. Equally true could be that the quality of the work was lessened when crammed with too many words and white spaces. Either way an improvement in art direction and a more focused writing style proved to be a recipe to fix the more prevalent drawbacks of the earlier issues.

The best example from this batch of stories is when Daredevil faces the Jester. Much like the other recent arcs, the formula is a weird and specifically themed villain has shown up to fight Daredevil and be defeated over three or four issues. The Jester is actually one of the longer arcs and the story is a pure slog when revisited today when clown villains are among the most played out tropes in the medium.

The Jester saga is completely worth reading for the art alone. Colan decides to play with the panels in ways that are unique for the relatively tame title, and heavily utilizes full pages of art. The dynamism from the integration of these techniques infuse the series with a little more heart, and sparks a bit of interest. Together with the panel to panel quality and the longevity of the artist on the series, this becomes a clear leader in the title’s early runs. Issue forty nine is the last for Colan but only for a bit, as he will return to collaborate with new staple writer Roy Thomas in just a few issues.

Closing Arguments

With the well established creators Stan Lee and Gene Colan both firing on all cylinders, Daredevil becomes a comic that can stand against the test of time. The stories are dated, and by modern standards even the art may be considered simple. The dialogue and early forms of dynamism make all the difference, and present a package that is a lot of fun even from a contemporary view. It’s not necessarily a great binge, and substantively isn’t the deepest comic around, but with a little patience the book becomes simple, pure hijinks and melodrama.

Enjoyable at the peak and forgettable at the lowest points, issue fifty of Daredevil sees Lee’s run come to a close. Unceremoniously departing in the middle of an arc, Lee will transition into an editor role and hand the writing duties over to Roy Thomas. As iconic as his style has proven to be, it feels like the right time for a change in creative direction. Seemingly Lee had drained himself of any more Daredevil stories, but had laid the groundwork that would facilitate the ideas and work of other writers for decades.

Citation Station

The Cover Original Article

Daredevil, Issues 25-50

25-50 written by Stan Lee

25-49 art by Gene Colan

50 art by Barry Smith

Daredevil #33, Art By Gene Colan

[lines-from-noelle]

what’s a title for this?????

just a drabble. 1224 words

prompt

he flexed his ears while waiting to board, eyes dull and mind fogged over. the chains around his wrists and ankles weighing heavily as he stood. a muzzle tight against his jaw and mouth, digging into the skin and old scars.

the tug on his restraints pulls him back from his haze, and forces him to focus on the situation occurring and to analyze what he could in hopes of a future escape. he is dragged by his heels, already blistered and calloused. he doesn’t understand what these aliens say, but he is sure its another trade-off, another sale probably.

his current “owner” extends its hand to the other being, coins being dropped in. its the same kind that has always been used when he has been moved from one place to another, so its likely universal money. his “owner” sneers, if you could even call it that. it has a greasy complexion and arms and legs chunkier than the hands and feet, it looks like a middle-schooler’s “chibi art.”

he assumes the other alien will be his new “owner,” as much as he dislikes saying it. this other being is more human than the others he’s met. this one has white skin, tinged green, and carries wings that seem impossible to be anatomically correct. these wings are made of leafs instead of feathers, as such they are a dark green. this being also has antlers in place of ears, it would seem. fascinating. the blonde hair framing its face makes him almost seem like a normal human guy in cosplay, but the eyes are what give him away. its painfully blue eyes are normal enough, but its the eyes on its hands, back of the neck, and on the sides of the antlers where a tree may have knots. these eyes move on their own accord, and its kind of scaring him. eldritch-adjacent horror guy.

as for him, the main protagonist, he is a human. so dreadfully human in fact, that this is what made him a “pet” in the first place. humanity has been in the stars for centuries, and have intermingled (as expected) with various other species by this point that a pureblooded human is nigh impossible to find. this human, a name long forgotten and trained out of him, has blonde hair and blue eyes. he used to have brown eyes, but he thinks this is from a previous owner that had experimented on him. he is the perfect human subject after all.

he hasn’t stopped observing and studying the eye-tree-wing-guy, and the other has hardly even acknowledged him.

eventually his chains are handed off to it, and he is free from his slimy old owner. the new one smiles at him, but he isn’t sure if it’s a good sign or not. he doesn’t think it’s good.

being led onto a different ship, he stops at the entryway. the door closes behind him, and the alien looks at him, tilting its head. it seems to think, and tries to ask him a question, even though it’s futile.

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even know he was asked anything.

it says something to him again, then asks the same thing.

he still can’t answer, and isn’t sure what it wants him to do. he is afraid, but he decides to try. “i- uh. i’m not sure what you’re saying there, bud?”

the alien freezes. all its eyes widen. it says something again. he mumbles through the muzzle again, “i guess i’m sorry? i don’t know, man…”

the alien is rigid, mind seemingly calculating an action. in the end, it points to the human, and charades him staying where he is. so he sits down and watches the alien leave the room briefly, coming back with a necklace. it’s not the first time he’s been made to wear a collar, but it’s certainly a first for it to be jewelry.

it approaches him slowly, watching for any sign of flight from the human. instead, it watches as he lowers his head to the alien as though ready to accept his fate.

the necklace slips over his head with ease. and he doesn’t realize quite yet why he was given this until he hears the alien speak once more.

“can you understand me now? is the communicator working?”

he stares wide-eyed at the alien, baffled. has this always been a thing? communicators?

“is that a yes?”

he stumbles on his words, “uh- yeah. it’s- um. no yeah it’s working. has this… have these communicators always been a thing?”

the alien’s eyes widen again, this time apparently delighted but still concerned. “it has! i’m terribly sorry you were never given one before, i really don’t know why… i wish i could help you more than this, but i don’t know how else i can help. is there any food you want? a drink? my name is phil, by the way, could i know yours?”

the human sits. he doesn’t know if he should answer. he’s still grappling that he could’ve spoken all this time, and yet he was denied knowingly. he could have spoken up for himself, but instead the old owners decided to play oblivious.

“mate?”

he gulps, “i don’t know sir. you can call me what you would like to.”

the alien, phil it sounded similar to, blanches and finds a new question.

hopefully, this may help him reunite this kid with its family, “hey mate, could i ask, what are you?”

the human still sits. he knows he’s human, but is he supposed to tell this alien who bought him that? it sounds fishy to him. instead he says “i can be whatever you want me to be.”

phil is horrified at that statement, and rightfully so. this kid had just implied he had been forcefully used in the past, and he isn’t sure if that’s what the kid intended or if that’s was accidental. he has to ask, “oh mate. oh my. we um.” he has to stop.

he begins again, “kid. are you human?”

he nods.

“have you been. uh. used before, in a- oh heavens- forceful way?”

he shakes his head and phil heaves a sigh of relief.

“oh thank the heavens. okay, thank you. are you sure you don’t remember your name? would you be comfortable doing some bloodwork to try and find you or your family?”

he doesn’t know how to tell phil. he seems so intent on reuniting him with his family, but he doesn’t think he realizes that he doesn’t have one. he doesn’t even know where he comes from. instead, he tells phil that he doesn’t want bloodwork, and will never want it. he tells him to drop him off at the nearest planet and he’ll go from there.

phil, obviously, is distressed by that idea, and bargains with the kid to stay with him, at least until he either finds his name or chooses a new one. so he agrees. it wouldn’t hurt, could it? phil seems to have a good heart, at least. right?

“just stay long enough so i can have peace in you being in health. after that, if you want to leave, i will not stop you”

and that sounds good enough to the human.

so he stays. for now, of course. (spoiler alert: them be family)

[handeaux]

Price Hill’s Wilder Avenue Memorializes A Wealthy Family With One Wild Child

It has often been said that the best way to make a small fortune is to start out with a large fortune, and that was certainly the philosophy of Horace K. Wilder.

Today, the Wilder name is hardly remembered in Cincinnati. There is a minor street in Price Hill marking the boundary between East Price Hill and Lower Price Hill named for the Wilder family, but that’s about it. At one time the Wilders owned more than 60 acres of land, a significant portion of the hilltop and eastern slopes of Price Hill.

Horace Wilder, in other words, grew up in comfort if not outright luxury. His family had money, even if they were not inclined to spend it ostentatiously. There was no Wilder mansion up on Price Hill, unlike the substantial residences of their neighbors Reese Price and Peter Neff. Still, Horace knew the value of money. That knowledge even got him into trouble.

As a young man, just starting out in the world, Horace lived with his uncle William Wilder. Horace’s mother died when he was quite young and his father not much later. Horace and Uncle William spent the summer of 1892 in Florida and returned home at the end of August. Horace took the family carriage out to visit friends and Uncle William discovered that his pocket book, containing $115, was missing. He contacted the police and had Horace arrested. As court testimony revealed, Horace was innocent. As he left the house, he realized that his uncle, sitting on the lawn, was quite inebriated and might easily be robbed by any passer-by. Horace put the pocket book in the house and let Uncle William sleep it off.

On achieving the age of 21 in 1893, Horace came into a substantial inheritance and immediately launched a campaign to spend it all as soon as possible. Horace quickly earned a reputation in Cincinnati as an easy mark, but his revels extended to Hamilton and Louisville. One day, Horace hired a cab to take himself, a boxer named Charles Slusher and an artist named Henry Niemeyer on an expedition to paint the town red. According to the Cincinnati Post [5 December 1893]:

He ”bought Slusher a pair of gloves, Niemeyer a hat, gave the latter $2 on two different occasions, and allowed him to pick up the change when he broke a bill and bought champagne and beer for a gang of ‘cadgers’ who followed them about.”

When Horace awoke the next morning, he was convinced he had been robbed and had saloonist Jack Page arrested on suspicion. Page provided sufficient evidence to have the charges dropped, the evidence being that Horace was too drunk to remember that he had spent the supposedly stolen money. Page turned around and sued Horace for slander and Horace had to shell out a thousand dollars to soothe Page’s temper.

With Page mollified, Horace moved his base of operations uptown to Kissel’s beer garden in Over-The-Rhine. There, he beheld the comely chanteuse Ida Reynolds and declared his intent to marry the young lady immediately. After delivering a veritable greenhouse of flowers to Miss Reynolds’ dressing room, followed up with cases of bubbly, he popped the question, but she turned him down.

Horace next caught sight of Bessie Miller, a woman of alluring countenance but mysterious circumstances. It turned out that she was a kept woman, the mistress of a caterer serving a prison term for embezzling from the Phoenix Club. Horace’s ardor cooled.

With his exploits filling the newspapers almost every day, Horace’s family grew concerned. Word got around that one of his uncles wanted to have the court put Horace in a guardianship. Horace took the hint and departed for the Oklahoma Territory to stay with one of his brothers until things cooled down in Cincinnati.

Three months later, Horace was back in town, announcing plans to open a gambling joint in Northern Kentucky, financed by yet another sale of his inherited Price Hill property. Not mentioned in any of the stories about Horace’s shenanigans on this trip through Cincinnati is the fact that he was now a married man. While in Oklahoma, Horace married Zula Belle Shaffer on 7 February 1894. By all accounts, Miss Shaffer was a beautiful and accomplished young lady well established in the social register of the western territory. She was 18 and had been born in Ohio.

Married or not, Horace continued his wastrel ways. By April he was in Hot Springs, Arkansas and word got back to Cincinnati that he was broke and reduced to pawning a diamond stick pin to pay his hotel bill.

Horace came close to getting himself killed in Cincinnati that autumn. At the Grand Saloon, an establishment smack in the middle of Cincinnati’s red-light district, Horace got into an argument with a sporting man named Billy Finlaw. Witnesses said they were arguing about an actress named Florence Miller. Words were said and Finlaw pushed Horace to the floor. Finlaw told his companions that, if he had a gun, he would blow Horace’s head off. One of his pals took him up on the threat and handed him a pistol, having first removed all the ammunition. Finlaw ran outside, confronted Horace and pulled the trigger a half-dozen times with the gun just inches from his face. Horace got the message and split.

But not for long. A month later, the papers reported that Horace had purchased a carriage and a fine horse and transported his friends around to all the resorts in the Tenderloin. That purchase was reported almost simultaneously with the sale of Horace’s last remaining lot in Price Hill.

Maybe he ran out of steam. He certainly appeared to run out of money, For whatever reason, Cincinnati heard nothing from Horace for almost three years, and then learned that he was dead. Word came from Oklahoma that Horace had overdosed on morphine, presumably a suicide.

The report was wrong. Horace’s brother, Charles Rollin “Roll” Wilder had received an identical share of inheritance as Horace. He took his money west and invested in Oklahoma land, holding down a position as an executive at one of the territorial banks. Horace stayed with him whenever Cincinnati got too hot for comfort. Horace did overdose on morphine, but pulled through, a much chastened man.

He moved back to Cincinnati. This time he brought his wife along. They rented a little house on Neff Avenue in Price Hill, one of his family’s former properties. Horace worked as a bookkeeper, a police officer and a carriage salesman. It was not a happy home. Horace moved out and took rooms on Garfield Place. Zula sued his sister and brother-in-law for encouraging Horace to abandon her.

The feuding in-laws were still airing the family’s dirty laundry in court when Horace died, this time for real. He was only 32. Burial was in the family plot at Spring Grove Cemetery.

[jaegersol]

@the-actual-last-quincy

"Is that strictly necessary?"

Ryuken folds his arms, looking first to the breeder and then to the creature presented to him standing in the centre of the room. He likes to think of himself as experienced when it comes to humans, he's been around plenty over the years and has done plenty of research before considering this purchase, but Ryuken has to admit he didn't expect the muzzle. It gives the creature a rather threatening look, not what he had in mind at all. He's meant to be a show-piece, after all. Maybe he's naive to assume human ownership is going to be as easy as it felt while he was growing up.

He scowls in confusion, more annoyed that the breeder seems to shrug off the question more than anything. Apparently this is just some recently implemented procedure, nothing to worry about. Although the presentation of his new acquisition and the tone of the breeder, makes Ryuken thinks the truth likely extends far beyond a new quirk in handling regulations. This better not be a mistake.

Mistake or not, the payment's been made and the deal done. There's no going back now. The breeder makes a start on leaving, giving Ryuken a chance to properly examine his purchase. The likeness to his picture is impressive. He's got the expected characteristics of his breed, too. He's, on the face of it, a good purchase. If only it wasn't for the muzzle, and the fact the breeder's almost halfway out the door.  He seems a bit too keen to leave.  Ryuken almost wants to stop him, question more, although he's not sure what good it would do now the money's changed hands. The human's as described, after all.

"Are you ready?" he addresses the human directly, not expecting an answer as he takes a step towards him.  He avoids introductions for the moment. That can be done once they're home and settled. Thats what all the books suggest anyway, "it's time to go"

The vampire - or at least Grimmjow’s pretty sure he’s a vampire - looks too stern for Grimmjow’s taste. He stands with a straight back and a his chin up, his hands folded behind his back as he survey’s him.

Grimmjow mimics him. The posture at least. His hands stay in fists at his sides, and his attention only sways when Gin steps too near him, blue gaze darting between the pair before returning to the vampire.

It’s abundantly clear that the man intends to leave him here. With the vampire. Grimmjow doesn’t know what to feel about it. Excitement? Grimmjow wasn’t unprepared for this, after all. He knew it was coming. Already he was older than most of Aizen’s humans sell for. Many leave to their homes when they’re just kids, but Grimmjow’s a fighter. He’s no good as a scrawny kid, an he was scrawny. Aizen had to wait till he was bigger.

He knows all of this, because he was told. 

But to actually be presented for sale is... It’s unnerving. He’s unnerved. It keeps him tense and, temporarily, quiet.

Gin had said his good-bye’s (if they could be called that) outside, so Grimmjow wasn’t expecting any now. He still follows the other to the door with his eyes, and once he’s gone, he finds himself unsure, and doesn’t turn back until the vampire speaks to him.

And.... That’s... it? No. He’s obviously not ready. Part of him wants Gin to walk back in the door, which is not a thought he’s ever had before, or hopefully ever will again, but he does have it.

He doesn’t know this guy.

“Go where?”

[agaveblue]

[Fanfic] Sales Pitch

Title: Sales Pitch

Summary: The truth is Walter Londra doesn’t need an android. But with CyberLife downright determined to court him, and with the sheer amount of NDAs they’ve shoved at even him of all people, and even Walter is…curious about the apparently hush-hush prototype in his living room. Just a one-shot glimpse into what Connor might’ve been up to in the days of the Old Ones.

Crossover canons: Horizon games / Detroit: Become Human

Main characters: Connor (DBH) and Walter Londra (Horizon Forbidden West: Burning Shores)

Work Text:

“My name is Connor. I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

Walter Londra squints, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other clutched around a frosted glass of whiskey, head tilted as he eyes this…thing from dark head to impeccably shined oxfords and back up again, and he can’t help that his first kneejerk reaction is I want one.

Good God, CyberLife really was good at what they did, weren’t they? Aside from the blinking blue light stamped into the machine’s head, you really couldn’t tell that “Connor” here wasn’t human no matter close you got to look for shimmering in the synthetically generated epidermis. No, no, this wasn’t the holo-skin of inferior products like the Faro servitors, with their metal and plastic skeletons covered in that translucent glowing sheath. It even looks more lifelike than the CyberLife androids he’s seen on market, the AX200s and CB200s and whatever. Why, the engineers designed this thing so that even the dark hair and smattering of small imperfections - faint freckles, slightly uneven, dark eyebrows - looked just like the real thing even as he leans in close, real close, to look for seams or that slight, barely there plastic-like sheen that previous CyberLife models had. Even when the machine extends its hand, it has the right grip, the right give…

Cold touch: ugh, Walter thinks, that glowing first impression slightly soured, and he unconsciously wipes his hand on his designer jeans once Connor releases it.

The android doesn’t seem to notice, still gazing at him with a politely friendly expression fixed on its handsome face.

“Mr. Londra, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Connor says. “Thanks for taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.”

Walter grunts, still eyeing the RK800. “Are you even for sale?”

“Regrettably I’m not.”

Now he wants the damn thing even more and he doesn’t even know why: he’s already got an army of personal assistants and security and he’s never given much thought to CyberLife androids until now.

“But in the future I might be to certain… select clientele,” Connor goes on with a dip of its head, almost as if it’s apologizing directly to the billionaire standing before it. The machine’s dark eyes, brown, soft, somehow alluring as if they’re already good friends (or they could be), fix on Walter.

“I assume I’m on the list.”

“Correct.”

“And how high am I on it?”

“Quite high. In fact, you’re the first from the private sector.”

“Good,” Walter laughs, “You know how I feel about being first!”

Connor doesn’t chuckle but it does manage something that looks like a small smile, private, reserved only for him as if it’s known the human for years. As if it knows him as well as Evelyn does. Did.

“A feeling that’s well-deserved, given your remarkable contributions and foresight. May I sit?”

The question catches Walter off-guard. First, because he’s the one who offers people chairs, if he feels they deserve one or if they can stay standing, and because people around him don’t have the balls to ask like that, and two, because he’d been busy just staring at this marvelously engineered thing standing before him and he’d already started to forget that, clammy handshake and blinking LED aside, that Connor wasn’t an attractive, weirdly approachable man at all. In his surprise Walter shrugs, gestures toward the real-leather armchair, watches for a second as the slender machine dressed in its sharp office wear heads to it, and then steps away to help himself to more whiskey.

He reminds himself that there’s no point pouring for two from the decanter.

“So why send you in person? CyberLife could’ve sent me your specs instead of shipping you all the way from Detroit.”

Connor’s voice is aggressively pleasant behind him, with its inoffensive, slight rasp.

 “That would have been appropriate for other prospective clientele. However, someone like you, Mr. Londra, deserves far more than the standard VR package.”

Walter’s smiling, lazy and indulgent, as he turns around with whiskey tumbler in hand. 

“Is that CyberLife’s opinion or yours? Can an RK800 even form opinions?”

“I believe,” Connor says mildly, “that would be best left to your interpretation.”

“Uh huh.”

"You’ll find the RK series a marked improvement in all forms of personal engagement."

“And how long, exactly, will you be shadowing me?”

“Two weeks.”

Walter sips his whiskey, feeling its familiar, soothing burn on his tongue and back of his throat, and sizes up Connor. The machine’s not dressed in the usual black-white uniform of commercial-grade CyberLife androids: instead its tailored clothes almost look like someone from, say, Londra Production’s Accounting Department, neat, smart lines, of gray and black, with even a damn silk tie around the thing’s slender neck. It’s even ironed! And yet just like every android he’s seen, there’s the usual markers. The glowing teal triangle and armband. The circular LED spinning blue above his right eyebrow. #313 248 317-50 is emblazoned on the chest of Connor’s gray jacket in glowing English like a billboard. There’s even MADE IN DETROIT stamped on there to go with the big letters of ANDROID splashed across the back of Connor’s shoulder blades.

Goddamn American Androids Act, Walter sighs, slinging himself down in the chair opposite the RK800. Tackiness wrapped up in legal bullshit no one ever asked for.

So sure, maybe Connor’s cutting edge. But it’s still just like the others and so Walter decides he better temper his expectations.

After all, he isn’t some easily impressed scrub off the street. This thing in front of him is expensive and he can tell when he’s being courted, wined and dined and having his dick sucked off. There’s got to be an angle to this that isn’t just his net worth. 

“Two weeks for what?” Walter gazes at Connor.

The machine’s head cocks, gesture a little birdlike and somehow…innocent. “For whatever you require, Mr. Londra.”

“Walter.”

“Apologies, Walter.”

Why does it sound so good hearing his name roll off the machine’s synthetic tongue?

“So what’s this about my ‘requirements’?”

Connor nods. “Maybe it'd help to think of me as your fully equipped, fully qualified personal assistant for these two weeks. I can also perform guard duty, cooking and cleaning, and anything else needed for your optimal emotional and physical health.”

“Guard duty? An android?”

“Ideally I’ll follow the same pacifist objectives as commercial androids,” Connor says, its glance sliding away for a moment to watch a seagull flit past the window and then wheel about in the sky, far above the threads of glittering traffic on the 405 and all the sorry bastards stuck in autocars that did shit all to help the congestion. “However, there may be certain circumstances - your personal safety, for example - where I can and will be able to choose which human life to…prioritize.”

The idea seems more and more attractive the more he listens. 

The more he studies Connor, its brown-eyed gaze wandering back to the window as if it’s never seen a flock of seagulls before, and there’s even a hint of boyish wonder(?) on the thing’s engineered face, its lips parted slightly, and the more he realizes the extent of the gift dropped in his lap. An android capable of violence, of doing whatever he asks however he asks. The perfect loyal being…provided it can do everything CyberLife claims it can. This could solve the problem of the MSP fiasco, he realizes, still watching Connor.

Not to mention it could solve a personal issue, closer to Earth. Closer to home….

“Well!” Walter breaks the silence. His hand tightens around the glass tumbler. He can taste the whiskey as he speaks and the RK800's head swivels back toward him, the gesture almost too smooth. “Guess we better put you through your paces.”

“Anything for you, Walter.”

“Have you met Evelyn?” “I’m afraid I haven’t had the opportunity to meet your wife just yet. Did you want me to?”

“In a way,” Walter says, grits his teeth in a forced smile flashing perfectly white teeth, leans forward, and watches as the android even copies him, as if they’re close friends leaning together over drinks. “There’s something funny going on with her and Jack Hoffman, my bodyguard. Find out what it is and bring me proof.”

“I’d be happy to.”

Eternally polite and eternally attentive, Connor starts to get up with its LED blinking furiously as if it’s already combing through social media and security CCTV, maybe even the entire holo-net for all he knows. The blue light stutters in electric surprise when Walter lurches forward, whiskey sloshing out of his glass and onto both their shoes, and catches the android by its sleeve.

“Not yet. Stay.”

And Connor obeys. The machine sits right back down and stays with him until it heads out in the morning. It takes less than three days for a single RK800 to return with solid proof that his wife, the love of his life, the star to outshine all others in the sky, is cheating on him, that traitorous, disloyal bitch. Her and that stupid, yappy, carpet-pissing Shiba Inu can't scrap together even a fraction of the loyalty this machine - on loan, even! - has shown in just a few days!

Two weeks later CyberLife comes to collect their property. Two weeks later with the CyberLife representative standing on his doorstep, Walter Londra immediately signs for an RK800 preorder on the spot, ignoring the number of zeroes and commas because you truly can't put a price on loyalty, now can you?

[whentherewerebicycles]

house projects talk under the cut because I have a problem (can’t stop working on house projects)

KITCHEN:

I’m loving the new wall color + the new wall-mounted spice racks. I still think curtains would be nice in there instead of the vertical blinds but I’ll have to think about it… doesn’t feel like a super urgent project. I also need to get a smaller brush and do some paint touch-ups around the hanging blinds, which should be a quick little project sometime.

I’d like to eventually get a kitchen island in there but for now I’m going to see if moving the toaster oven will free up enough counter space to be a workable temporary option

DAYROOM/OFFICE:

I found an oversized mirror on mega sale that I like better than those framed farmhouse style mirrors, so I ordered that and will hang it when it arrives next friday. will have to return the other mirrors this week but that’s okay

I’ll put together the bookshelf today & list those other chairs on marketplace. I could also sell that plant cart hmm or try to find space for it somewhere tbd? that should free up quite a bit of storage space in my closets too which is good.

I think I want to get a long floating shelf for over the mirror so I can have trailing plants and some fun little knickknacks up there.

gotta figure out the wall art sitch too as I think that will also help pull the room together a bit more. I also have three more floating planters to work with (and tons of natural light in that room) so that’s a possibility for wall decor too hmm…

I should really repaint that wall over the sofa… I don’t think it’ll be TOO time consuming just a little annoying to move stuff. but worth it I think as the little flaws have been driving me nuts & it’ll be good to get it done before I hang the mirror and shelf.

LIVING ROOM:

continues to be perfect. no notes.

HALF BATH:

Liz and I might try to build a frame for my flamingo print at some point but I’m content to otherwise let this room be for now. still feels like it’s missing one or two finishing touches… the thing I’d most like to add is a little curios cabinet over the toilet but I think that can be a long-term acquisition project

if I extend my lease for another year or two I want to do peel-and-stick tile on the floor but don’t want to invest the money/effort just yet

UPSTAIRS BATHROOM:

I will paint this room eventually if I stay here a few more years but am not bothered enough to do it now. I do want to hang my new bird print though (maybe even today!) and get a second bathmat at some point.

BEDROOM:

my bedroom is the chillest room in the house (white walls, not much art, minimal clutter) and I kinda love that… it’s nice to have a very colorful maximalist-leaning home but have your sleep space be calm & visually quiet. my only priority is to clear out some closet space.

[oftwoworlds-astennu]

Astennu

Warning long Post! Astennu’s bio and some character makers images!

This first image is what I started with thanks to a doll maker and I’ve made a few more based on this.

He’s likes his goth vibes, but isn’t afraid to accentuate with some colorful eyeshadow, Nails or bits of colorful accents on his clothes.

He wears a lot of jewelry (necklace, bracelet, earrings, and rings) that has stones comprised of chips of magestones collected by his mom throughout her life and gifted to him when he left for Nightraven. He has since been able to collect more chips and fragments to bring back home to his mom. 

I am taking a bit of liberty with the world for him so forgive me if it doesn’t completely match canon stuff!

Astennu is a mixed blood Fae. His father being a Dark aligned nature Fae from Briar Valley and his mother being a light aligned nature Fae. His Father is a small dark fae man at 5 ft nothing and his mom is on the larger side of the light fae at 4 ft nothing, which makes his towering height of 6ft 5 inches quite noticeable. Hes also near effortlessly muscular, though he does work out regularly to maintain it. 

His family lives in outer Briar Valley, where they still get a good amount of sun. He helps his father raise familiars and his mother raise rare flowers that she sells as pigments or potion ingredients. His father’s family lives in inner Briar valley and is rather accepting, but he chooses to live on the edge so that his wife can be around sunshine, though they both talk about one day moving to a garden in the interior of the otherwise gloomy kingdom of Briar Valley that gets more sunshine, but had never made the change.

His mother’s family however has disowned her for marrying a common dark Fae man when she herself is the youngest sister of 6 of a royal family amongst the light fae, making her a princess unlikely to ever be more than that. His parents are so in love though that it had been an easy decision to leave her stuffy family behind and start a life with him. 

They manage to make their way through though are usually just barely affording their home, and are unable to afford to move all of the animals and plants that far from where they live. Through his whole life, he’s had very sparring interaction with any extended family, but at least his Father’s family is accepting and kind to them. 

 Astennu repeatedly argues that they should have had enough many years ago, and that they are owed for many sales on flower ingredients and sold familiars that the payments have mysteriously ‘vanished’. His parents, both always far too positive keep claiming that ‘these are just mistakes! We’ll be fine! We’ll get payments when they are ready!’ And dismiss his concerns as unnecessary, which he finds frustrating since he wants his parents to be happy and closer to family. 

He’s come to blame the Royal Family itself as partially responsible they sent one of his favorite Familiars he raised to the royal family as a youngster, and he has seen it in official images, but his family never received so much as a thank you. Same with many shipments of potion ingredients they’ve only sporadically received payments for. He’d sent letters and complaints and never heard so much as a peep in return.

As a result, he has a rather unfavorable opinion of Malleus while on Campus. The whole reason he went to Night Raven is in hopes to get enough knowledge to find a better way to earn money to finally move his parents where they want to be.

He actively avoids Malleus, moving out of the room if Malleus or his entourage stayed more than a few moments. He never made it a big scene, he’d just leave. Never making it known, or getting angry, but after a while, they did notice their fellow fae and Diasomia student was actively avoiding the prince. 

Eventually the whole group corners and confronts Astennu, who was reading in a tree, something he did a lot, to ask why. Astennu tries to avoid the question, but eventually lays out in one frustrated angry rant everything about how his family is desperately poor in one of the richest kingdoms in the world. How he’d sent his own favorite familiar to the castle and didn’t receive so much as a thank you. How they were rarely paid for the ingredients his mother lovingly raised and sent to the castle. How every transfer request was disregarded. How it seemed the whole system was against their family doing anything, before storming off leaving a bewildered Prince and entourage to process it. Malleus even has to stop them from pursuing, before having people look into all his claims. 

A few weeks later he sets a folder full of letters in front of Astennu, and apologizes. As it turns out, a few corrupt officials had conspired to make the mixed raced family’s life a nightmare. The folder held multiple thankyou letters, filled with glowing praise for his family farm, and other letters. And as it turned out, the officials had stolen money from his, and several other mixed race families.  Malleus assured Astennu that reparations were being made to his family and the others affected before pulling out a letter he’d penned himself when he’d received a raven as a gift. As it turned out, the Royal Family just didn’t know it was happening. And Astennu would be credited with helping to take down the corruption.   

He relents that the Crowned Prince was indeed, a decent person that cared about his people and finally stops hating him, and simply allows himself to see him as a ‘fellow student���. 

---more images followed by quicker bio stuff---

-Full name is “Astennu Nightshade”

-Astennu was very close to overblotting during his rant but thanks to the extra mage stone chips managed to avoid it.

-He has inherited magic from his parents, that allows him to compel animals to do as he wishes with ‘Wild song’. It is a family trait that ironically both nature fae families carried a copy of. He was born with essentially a double copy, making it intensely more powerful than most. it is what made him such a good trainer of familiars. It is not his signature spell, or at least its only part of it. 

-He has a deep, very beautiful voice. If the students hear deep ethereal eerie singing in the woods at night? It was usually him.

-His actual signature spell is ‘Return to the Wild’ where he can turn everyone around him into an animal, then combined with his ‘Wild song’ means he can control a bunch of mages as once in animal form. 

-Wild song if he puts enough effort into it, can compel beastfolk to do as he says as well. 

-He can draw forest spirit creatures to him as well

-He has near crippling ‘performance’ anxiety. Small groups hes fine, Asked to do magic hes not 100 percent comfortable with in front of a lot of people, he overthinks, freezes and often messes up, or misfires his spell. It stems from a performance with his cousins in  Briar valley which accidentally called in a bunch of animals and caused a big scene, scarring his young life.

-As a result, he doesn’t do anything that isn’t entirely mandatory, and doesn’t have too many friends, but is not outright hostile towards anyone

-he is very intelligent, testing near the top of the class on every test and assignment. 

-He does have an appreciation for makeup, and uses his moms pigments to make his own

-his mom’s name is Melody with her original family name being ‘MorningGlory” And his dad is Named Hector 

-His grandmother is Mirabex MorningGlory. And is queen of the light fae of (a minor kingdom i made up) the Lesser Sun Valley. She’s cold a shrewd and does only what she deems ‘best for the kingdom.” She has 5 other daughters and no sons all older than Melody. The oldest twins and the third oldest are all loyal to her, and the next two down, the sisters Melody was close to before leaving, married into a well known and rich Trader family. The oldest three are unmarried.