#four muses is a good start considering how many i have now!

[dreamsinger-rose]

Musings about Trolls Band Together

Secrets, Timelines, and Why In The Heck Would Branch’s Brothers Leave Him To Die At The Claws of the Bergens?!

Hello, good readers! Now that I’ve seen Trolls Band Together, I’m going to start making some new blog posts about our favorite Broppy couple and exploring the world of the trolls in general. Needless to say, this is basically going to be all spoilers, so read only if you don’t mind knowing ahead of time everything that happens in this deeply-satisfying, long-awaited backstory of a movie 😊

The first thing that comes to mind is that when John Dory, Branch’s long-lost brother, first appears, Poppy asks her father if he knew about Branch’s brothers. Looking guilty, he deflects her question. “How would I know anything about secret family members?” Obviously he was also talking about Poppy’s similarly long-lost sister, Viva, but as the troll who was king at the time Branch’s brothers presumably lived in the troll tree, I think he did know.

Maybe he kept quiet because he or Grandma Rosiepuff decided not to keep upsetting him with talk of the brothers who left. Maybe little Branch himself asked him never to mention them again, once he was sure they were never coming back. Or maybe Peppy and Branch did occasionally talk about them in private, but if so, they obviously never told anyone else, not even Poppy.

After World Tour, I suspect Peppy knows a LOT more than he’s ever told his young daughter, in order to let her stay happy. Now that we know there’s an even bigger world out there, full of other societies than trolls and bergens, it’s obvious that he wanted the village to be this idyllic place where his trolls could live innocent, happy lives. I can’t blame him for that. I’m sure they all needed the chance to heal after the trauma the bergens inflicted on them. They needed to feel safe. It seems to have worked, at least for the younger trolls who’ve never known anything else. I have to wonder how many older trolls are more like Branch, hiding emotional scars deep inside.

I also wonder about the brothers’ origins. WERE they all originally troll-tree trolls? If so, did they grow up under the bergen threat, or had the bergens not started eating trolls at the time the brothers left? I got the impression that Trollstice had been happening for years. Yet I find it hard to believe that if they were going to leave, that they’d leave Bitty B in such a dangerous situation. Not after how they greeted him with such (adorable, heartwarming) affection the minute they saw him again.

So it makes more sense that they would have left Branch at the tree before the bergens came along. That would make an awfully short amount of time for Trollstice to become the “tradition” Poppy describes it as in the first movie. Then again, considering the ratio of bergens to trolls in the first movie, if every bergen got to eat a troll once a year, that would mean dozens of trolls would have been lost every single year, enough to decimate the population in a very short time. Peppy escaped with roughly only a hundred trolls, as far as I could tell. Viva rescued maybe another 30(?) Mostly children, by the look of them. Enough for them grow up and create a second generation by the time Band Together starts.

I wish we knew how many trolls there had been originally. Tiny as trolls are, a tree the size of the troll tree should have been able to host at least 500 trolls, if not double that. If the village had originally had about 500 trolls, it would have only taken about four years to lose ¾ of their people. Yikes! I can’t imagine the young King Peppy waiting even a year to try to rescue his people if that kept happening.

Which leads me to wonder if Peppy was originally not from the troll tree. What if he was a roving adventurer like John Dory, who had come upon this caged troll tree full of trapped, desperate trolls who needed his help? Maybe he fell in love with Poppy’s mother, (the princess?) and decided to stay? They made him their king, and he rescued them. What happened to the former rulers?

All of this makes me wonder if Branch’s family were actually big-city trolls who simply left their baby brother with their quaint country grandma, under the impression that he’d be safe there. Before the bergens became a threat, obviously.

If the bergens were already eating trolls by the time the brothers left, (which I doubt, since there was no mention of that) I have two theories as to why they’d do such a selfish, callous thing. Either the trolls didn’t consider the bergens much of a threat (at first), or they didn’t know the bergens were behind the disappearances of their people. It’s even possible that, like in my fanfiction Picturebook Romance, the bergens (mainly Chef) pretended to be their friends at first, until the cage was built. And then it was too late.

LOL I keep remembering Poppy’s comment upon meeting John Dory. “You’re the old one!” He wasn’t too happy about that. But I can easily imagine Peppy being like JD, which might explain why he’s also kind of “old” to be Poppy’s dad.

[taones]

If You Can Hold On (2) - A.A, S.K, S.D

rewrite of the second part of the series (first part here and original series on my masterlist) enjoy <3

pairing ~ poly asadaisuga x gn!reader

warnings ~ pining, angst, Daichi sleeps shirtless bc c'mon now, reader is in the pool being sad but no mentions of drowning! not edited bc I'm lazy

Soft murmurs woke you from your restless sleep. After their last conversation, it had obviously been hard for you to get any good rest. The car rolled to a stop inside a motel car park, bathing you and its other occupants in the red sign light. 

“I went in but they only have one room so the four of us will have to share”

The disappointment in Daichi’s tone was palpable, like an arrow through your heart. You guys were best friends, you had obviously shared rooms and beds before. Why would it matter now? Ever since you had known them you had been comfortable sharing beds etc, even after they started dating. The fact it was different now obviously made you think back to the conversation you overheard. Maybe the person they were adding didn’t like you or they thought it would be inappropriate considering they were courting another person. 

You felt Asahi shift beside you and slammed your eyes shut once again. 

There was no way you were letting them know you were awake. If you had to face them before you fully calmed down, there was no question on if you would end up crying. Also you deeply did not want to give Asahi his hoodie back. There was a lingering feeling in your mind that you would never have an opportunity to steal it again. A sharp twinge of panic rocketed through your stomach at the thought. Of course, there was a chance their new s/o wouldn’t mind, but not many people were comfortable with their partner being that close to someone else. 

“It’s okay” Asahi soothed, “i’ll carry them”

Yeah, like you were going to let that happen. If any one of the three men touched you right now you were sure to burst into tears. Deciding that was the best time to break your facade, you pretended to stir. You hoped the red lights didn’t reflect on the glimmer of tears in your eyes. The cold, wet gravel seeped through the mesh of your shoes as the boys started leading you towards the room. No noise was made apart from the crunches under your feet - small victories, you mused to yourself. You adjusted your bags in your hand so you could grab the room key from Daichi’s hand. It was bronze in colour with a red plastic tag, slightly faded but you were able to make out the number 32 on the front. Locating the room, you were quick to pull away from the rest of the fatigued group, finding it easy to speed away from the sleep-addled men under the guise of dinding some comfort from the rain. Behind you, Daichi held his hand to his chest as if your hasty touch had scalded him. You chewed on your lip slightly, feeling bad at the upset you might have caused. Only hoping he would take it as you being tired, you shifted your gaze to the room door and marched on. 

-

The room itself was painted a gaudy yellow, with a brown patterned carpet that had obviously been unchanged since the motel itself was built. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, big enough for the four of you easily, but your eyes were driven to the sofa to the side of it. It was a loud red, sticking out sorely from the rest of the room. The harsh red was an assault on your retinas. How fitting, you thought to yourself. Scoffing, you laid your bags on the couch, pulling out some shorts and one of Koushi’s t-shirts to sleep in - rushing into the bathroom to change as soon as the other men walked in. 

Thinking you had escaped, you sighed and leant against the door. Only to hear the voices of the three men loud and clear. The thought of escaping out of the tiny bathroom window became suddenly very tempting. 

“I wonder what’s wrong with y/n” Koushi asked, seemingly dismissive.

“I’m sure we’ll find out soon, they don’t hide anything from us” 

You scoffed again under your breath, if only they knew. Still, you couldn;t fault Daichi for comforting his partner. 

“Wait look what I took the other day Suga, it’ll cheer you up”

You heard Azumane pull out his phone and then a resounding ‘aww’ from the grey haired man.

“I wish we could ask them to join us sooner but we have to wait till we’re back huh?” Suga lamented, “wish this trip could be over already” 

Ouch, that one hurt.

He was obviously showing a photo of this mystery person. You really didn’t understand why they hadn’t told you yet. It wasn’t like they could predict your horrible reaction, or that they even knew about your feelings. It made the doubtful pit in your stomach grow and twist, pulling you into a nauseous state. If they really wanted this to be over so soon after it began, there was really no point in you staying. They were obviously preoccupied with this other person - it was like you were never even there to begin with. 

A knock on the bathroom door made you jolt. Reluctantly, you peered at yourself in the dirty mirror and cringed at the sight. There were tear tracks dried onto your skin and your eyes were rimmed with an irritated colour. The sadness couldn’t be more obvious. Hastily, you rinsed your face in the sink, patting it down with your t-shirt. Taking a moment to breath and calm yourself, you turned the door knob. 

Daichi’s concerned face met you on the other side. Well, there goes being inconspicuous. You shot him what you hoped was a reassuring grin and pushed past his shoulder slightly. It was obvious he wanted to say something to you, but he stayed silent. They all watched you hastily grab a blanket off of the end of the bed and reach for the door. Not looking back you called behind you.

“I’ll be right back i just have to, uh, make a call so don’t wait up”

Well done, very convincing, you mused as you shut the door behind you. 

The gravel once again let the damp seep into you. Cold air prickled the skin on your legs while you walked towards your destination. Like all good motels, there was a pool a little bit away from your room, cold and full of rain water from the earlier weather, but it was a welcomed solace from the suffocating presence of the room. It was dimly lit but had no cover, so you assumed nobody would yell at you for using it. The water was surprisingly clear and cold from the earlier rain. Perfect for you to dangle your legs in while you waited there. Rain always calmed you when your thoughts were racing and you assumed the pool would work the same way. Relationships and people might change to you but water, the feeling of it moving over your skin, that would always be the same. 

You thought back to one of your earliest memories with all three of the boys, after you had come to the realisation you were hopelessly in love with all three. It was during first year, towards the end of the summer months, when the leaves had begun to tinge into soft yellows and deep reds. The rain had started pouring that day unexpectedly, breaking through the muggy weather that the last three months had left behind. The icy cold raindrops were a welcome feeling on your heated skin. All three of you had ran from volleyball practice to the courtyard outside, spreading your arms towards the sky like uniform-donned angels - thanking the sky for it’s gift. Of course, you had all got soaked but you smiled even after you had all separated to walk home. 

Simpler times, you thought to yourself sarcastically. The feelings had been so new and exciting at the time, hardly the depressing lingering in the back of your mind as it had been recently. There had come a time in school, you’re not sure when, where you had sort of accepted it would never happen and promptly gave up. Whether this was before or after the three announced their relationship, you had forgotten. Not that it mattered either way. 

Reflections in the water rippled when you dipped your legs into the surface. You stared as your reflection was distorted, mussed about in the small waves. The water settled once again and you were left with the cold, hard truth of the image you had become. Your rimmed eyes and tear tracks seemed to only accentuate the already exhausted look on your face. It was as if you hadn’t slept in weeks. Suga liked describing the sparkle in your eyes when you got excited about something - apparently it reminded him of a snowglobe or something, whatever he had said. You sighed, meeting your own eyes in the water. They were empty of any sparkle. 

You swished your legs around the water again, a weight lifting off your shoulders as your face was contorted once again by the waves. 

A ringtone rang out from next to you and you scrambled to shut it off. Bringing the phone up to your ear, you were met with the soothing (if not minorly monotone) voice of your club manager and best friend. 

“Hello?” you sniffed into the receiver. 

Luckily for you, Kiyoko had escaped your seemingly never ending list of crushes. She had been a fast friend when you had met and, luckily for her, she was currently driving somewhere around the Japanese countryside with her girlfriend. 

The dark-haired girl was also one of the only people in the world that knew your secret. Which was most likely the reason for her phoning. 

“How are you holding up y/n?”

You scoffed. 

“As good as i can i suppose” you joked, shoulders tensing at the lack of response. 

“Okay, i’m doing horribly, i swear they’re doing it on purpose”

She hummed, never one for many words. 

“Did you know they wanted to add another person to their relationship? They won’t talk about it when they think i’m awake but i caught them in the car. They seem so,  so excited and i hate that i can’t just be happy for them”

Gnawing on your lip, you waited for a response.

“Do you need  us to come pick you up?” she questioned, almost hesitantly. 

You stopped and thought about it. Was it the best idea for you to stay? There was a feeling poking at the back of your brain that this trip would go horribly wrong but you weren’t too sure it would be the best idea to leave either. There was no real excuse you could give the boys and you had been planning this for a while. Chewing on your thumbnail, you made a choice. 

“I don’t think you need to get me” you began, “i’ll see how it goes but, uh, be on standby i guess”

A melodic hum rang from down the phone. You weren’t sure what it’s inflection was. 

The call ended quite quickly after that. It was expected, the hour was late and Kiyoko definitely had better things to do than audibly observing her friend having a breakdown. It would be a lie to say you didn’t sound as pathetic as you looked. The rain had started falling again towards the end of your conversation so you had stuffed your phone in your pocket and hugged the worn blanket tighter around your bare arms. 

You had failed to see a shock of cropped, brunette hair disappearing behind your room door.

The cold rain drizzled down your scalp and down your neck, leaving goosebumps in it’s wake. The rain seemed to peel some of the pressure of of your shoulders. It gave you something to focus on so that you didn’t have to think so hard for a while. Quieting the thoughts spinning round your head like whirlpools. Closing your eyes, you laid back on the wet tile and imagined spinning your hands around in the frigid water, creating your own whirlpools. Ones so powerful you could jump right in and they would suck you away from the motel - to wherever you wanted to go. Maybe you could stay underwater for a while, away from everyone. Kiyoko was a strong swimmer, she could bring you food and company. Maybe you could make some less complicated friends with the fish and little crabs that lived on the seafloor. 

When you peeled open your wet eyelids, your reality confronted you like a slap to the face. The motel was still the motel, and the pool's surface remained unchanged. 

“y/n!” yelled a voice from behind you. 

Rolling your eyes, you peered up from between your lashes. Suga had run out of the room, holding one of his partners' jackets above him in a mockery of a shelter from the rain. You would think he would have the sensibility to choose a waterproof one. 

His shoulders were drawn close to his body under his knitted cardigan, silvery brows drawn close to each other. There wasn’t much exchanged between the two of you but the worry on his features was hard to miss. You suppose you did look somewhat like a corpse at the time. Even worse - a cold, damp one. Even now, you looked back up towards the sky and snorted at your own silliness, as if they were even thinking about that. 

-

Asahi looked at the exchange from the winder, choosing to accompany his boyfriend outside when he saw your body twist and return to its previous position. Being one of the more sensibly dressed of your group - he grabbed a parka and headed out next to the shorter man, perching his chin on Suga’s shoulder. 

“I wish i knew what was going on in their head sometimes” Asahi commented from next to Koushi’s ear. 

His voice was soft enough and they were far enough away that you couldn’t hear them. In all fairness, without facing them anyone would have been completely unaware that they were talking. They both observed your sodden state, noticing your eyelids fluttering closed as you slipped off to sleep. 

“I would love to know how on earth they can sleep in this weather” Koushi commented dryly, “they’re going to catch their death because of the damn rain one of these days”

The brunette chuckled, wrapping his arms around his lover’s waist. Asahi had a comforting effect on almost anyone that truly knew him. A real gentle giant, his presence had the ability to both command attention and become a bean of solace for anyone that needed it. It was hard not to feel comfortable around Asahi Azumane. Something his boyfriend could attest to enthusiastically as his shoulders finally withdrew from next to his ears.

“They seemed happier out here in the rain than they have on the entire trip so far”

If he hadn’t been right next to his jaw, there is no way the taller man would’ve heard Koushi’s bitter muttering. And some part of him wished he didn’t, because then he wouldn't have to face the fact that his statement was entirely true. Even now, as you drifted off into sleep, the smile that had been missing the entire trip had somewhat returned to your face. It was refreshing to see but the two men only wished they had been the cause, not a weather pattern. The lines of your body were less harsh, less bunched up into each other. Your limbs hung loose on the tiles and the water instead of coiling and wrapping around each other like fishing line - the desperate attempt to make yourself smaller had not gone unnoticed by your companions. 

Asahi bit his lip. 

“We should get them inside” came the sleep-addled voice of their third and final partner. 

Daichi was dressed the least sensibly of all of them, only wearing a pair of chequered pyjama pants. Of course, as he was leaning in the doorway and not actually outside, there was no need for much else. A flower of guilt had bloomed in the pit of his stomach at overhearing the other two’s conversation. Your behavior had not gone unnoticed by him, but he had initially assumed you were just tired. It was overtly obvious to him now that something was very wrong. 

The three men trudged the small distance to your snoozing figure, not caring much if they got soaked. Daichi sat you up next to the pool as the other two worked on drying your chlorine-coated legs. The coarse fabric of the towels did little to disturb your slumber, only causing your knees to draw up to your chest and a small hum to escape your parted lips. The gaze of the shorter brunette man would probably have burnt holes in your skin had you been awake at the time. However, the contentment of your slumber went undisturbed and you turned your face into his bare chest, snuggling into it. 

part two is up! i've already finished part three so I will hopefully post that tomorrow <3 reblogs and comments are always appreciated, stay sexy!

[altarfates]

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎. answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐓𝐏 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒?  —  while i consider myself open to a lot of different ships considering my muse list currently my brain is engrossed with the current : dabihawks, shigadabi and satosugu with a tiny bit of shinkami there also. 

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐏 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆? — I am always down to explore the depths of intricate relationships, not all of them have to be inherently healthy or bring good things to the table. This being said there’s going to be none of that nasty shit ( condemnatory ) written here, you know what i mean. There will be nasty shit  ( positive ) explored between ships written on my blog. I’m down to write angst, smut, a little bit of domesticity or fluff here and there. Really I encourage my ship partners to explore beyond the surface level depths of ships to see what really makes them drawn to each other, how they compliment or do not compliment each other it’s just a good time.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐅𝐘? —  I feel like it goes without saying but there’s no adult / minor ships here, others i’m generally pretty open to depending on the situation / ship as i’ve written characters previously that are immortal in love with mortals so it feels absurd to say eight years when there’s like eight hundred between them. 

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆? — this is a yes and a no sort of situation, if i click with the other writer and we’re having a good time i’m usually down to ship. I tend to be a little !!! about my ships so if you do end up shipping with me there may be playlists, pinboards, general chatter so i like to give a heads up about that.

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐅𝐀𝐑 𝐃𝐎 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐆𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖? — honestly, if i’m writing tongue in mouth that’s generally kinda suggestive ?? but it’s more like once they start getting hands on it delves into the yeah im gonna tag this and then any actual smut scenes are nsfw.

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇? —  i have plenty of ships im currently like interested in exploring, i’ll make a quick lil list based on like my braincells rn which are limited. dabihawks and shigadabi have infected my brain rn, i got my shinkami and kamijirou which i really enjoy. satosugu my beloved and sugushoko which has recently became at the forefront of my brain. Caejose is my jjba all time favourite ship i love those two with my whole heart and maybe ?? sampard im a bit on the fence about it rn but it does hold a special place with me. 

𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔? — yes !! you can literally just be like hello ven i am offering u a ship and i will most likely be like YIPEEE CAT GIF !!!! 

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐎𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐃𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏? — i love shipping, it doesn’t always have to be romantic but i enjoy exploring dynamics through my writing so i ship all the time im shipping right now and you wouldn’t even know it. 

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏? — yes ! unless i am asked by a close friend or someone ive plotted with extensively i will always be multiship. I tend to not want to ship hoard and usually go for like maybe a max of three or four of the same ships because while i do know each rendition comes with its own flavour it’s like i dont wanna have too many ships and only two hands. 

𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐎𝐁𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 - 𝐎𝐑 - 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒? — i may be a tiny bit ship obsessed. I have my playlists, my pinboards, the 10000 tiktoks ive seen of them or art i have saved. oop. 

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐌? —  dabihawks and satosugu. 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘, 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔? — jump in my dms and express interest, interact a few times through asks and go hey i like the energy would you maybe be interested in writing a ship ?? i do have the autism brain of all times so unless you outright say hello ven i wish to ship i’m not going to be clued in LMAO.

tagged by :  @minban <3

tagging :  @chipen, @gokunoban and @reallyrandomtj !

[fanmoose12]

Actor AU. And everyone laughing and asking how this shoot was done cause there is no way Levi is taller than Armin and Eren. Questions about ladders and photoshops and a lot of Hange trying to prevent her co-stars characters from joining her in her retirement from the cast due to Levi.

"Have you seen this shit already?"

Levi bursts through the door of Hange's trailer like a whirlwind - a short hurricane of activity and black hair that nearly causes her to drop her phone and completely ruins the game she was playing on it.

A groan makes its way past Hange's lips - she was so close to establishing a new record! She was trying so hard to for the past few days! She almost got it! And now it's all for nothing!

She doesn't let her disappointment show, however. Neither does she express her irritation.

There is none, to be honest. At the sight of Levi in such a rattled, unusually distressed state, Hange forgets all about her silly game almost immediately.

A much more pressing and intriguing matter arises, one that requires her undivided attention.

Hange gives it freely, turning to Levi with a head slightly tilted to one side and a smile on her lips.

"Who dared to piss off my favorite midget?" she inquires.

"Don't," Levi mutters darkly. He shakes his head, jaw tightened, then throws his phone on Hange's lap.

She snatches it in her hands greadily and quickly opens it, pleased to find that Levi hasn't changed his password. He used to, many times, in hopes that he'd manage to pick the one that Hange wouldn't be able to crack. As his last desperate attempt, he set her birth date as his password. And for a while - Hange truly couldn't guess it, but ever since she finally did, Levi didn't bother to change it again. Her birth date is his password - if that's not sweet, Hang doesn't know what sweet is.

She unlocks the phone to a picture she knows too well - it is of her, Levi, Armin and Eren, the recent piece of promotional material. The picture is quite nice, if Hange can say so herself, serene and poetic in a way. She knows for a fact that Levi has seen this picute too - how could he not, when he's in it.

So why is he so angry about it now?

"Scroll down," he instructs, taking note of the lost look on her face.

Hange does as he has told, skips through nearly a dozen comments, and oh-

That is indeed quite unfortunate.

And also- absolutely hilarious. Hange has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from bursting into laughter.

"I just-" Levi starts to pace around - which is quite a tedious task, considering that Hange's trailer is so tiny, it's barely four feet long. All this turning back and forth must make his head spin, Hange muses. It definitely would have made her head spin, just watching Levi does, but maybe - he's too vexed to notice. "I don't fucking understand. Why are all jokes about me? Only about me? I mean, you're right beside me. And you sure as hell aren't taller than Yeager."

"I was, once."

"Yeah," Levi deadpans. "More than five years ago."

Hange takes a deep breath, pushing down the chuckle that is nearly bubbling out of her throat. She pulls her face in as serious expression as she can manage right now and in the calmest voice that she can muster, says, "Well... maybe, it's 'cause I'm generally known for being..." she falters, searching for the correct, non-offending adjective, but Levi beats her to it, sharply turning on his heels to hiss out,

"Short?"

"Miniature," Hange blurts out, only to realize a second later that it's probably an even worse choice of words.

She winces, and Levi grimaces, but before he can explode again, she reaches out to tug at the back of his shirt and drag him closer. She gathers Levi in her arms, pulls him on her lap and snuggles to him.

"I like you just the way you are," she murmurs, wrapping arms around his slim waist. "What does it matter what idiots on Internet say?"

Levi huffs - not angry, which good, but still sulking, which is cute, as always, but not the reaction Hange was hoping for. To placate him, she kisses him in the corner of his mouth.

"Besides..." she begins in a low, sultry voice that she knows makes Levi shiver. "You know what they say about short men? My personal experience confirms it."

Snorting, Levi rolls his eyes. "You don't have that much experience, four-eyes."

"Quality over quantity, darling," she grins cheekily, earning a low, but fond grunt from Levi. "If you want, I can defend your honor," she continues, "Tell everyone the truth. That you're not small where it really matters."

Levi visibly shudders at the prospect. "Oh god, don't. You want Yeager and Kirstein to join in on this conversation? Because they will. And it will be fucking disgusting. I'm not ready for it. And the world is not ready either. And I don't want people to discuss that."

"Why not? I bet your ratings will skyrocket after that. Captain Levi will even get his own series."

"Nah," Levi waves her off, "that shit'd be boring people to death."

"Why? You don't want to explore Captain's life after the main events?"

"Why would I? It won't only be depressing as fuck, but as I've already said, boring."

"But!" Hange surges forward, nearly knocking her forehead against Levi's. "Captain is such an interesting character!"

"No, he isn't," Levi says matter-of-factly, then in a slightly softer tone and looking anywhere but at her, he adds, "Without yours anyway."

Hange's heart - as it's known to do whenever Levi's present - melts. She pecks him on the cheek, then nuzzles into his neck.

"Alright then, different plan. How about a prequel series? We can bring the old guard back! Erwin, Mike, Nanaba and Moblit! That'd be fun, no?"

"Insufferable, that's how it's going to be. You all won't be getting any shooting done, because you'd be busy trading jokes with Mike or discussing boring stuff with Erwin."

"Hmm," a smile makes its way on Hange's lips as she imagines it. "We can also explore the relationship between our characters in more details. Have nasty sex on screen, let people get a glimpse on your not so little friend."

"Four-eyes," Levi's voice is tight, strained. One would say that he's angry, exasparated with her. But Hange knows better, can see how hard he clenches his jaw to stop the laughter. "They won't ever let us do that."

Hange grins, fluttering her eyelashes. "I can be pretty persuasive..."

Levi snorts. "That shit only works on me, you know that, right?"

"Mm," Hange licks her lips, gaze falling and getting glued to Levi's mouth. "That I do know. So... how about a rehearsal?"

Levi curses when he catches just where her eyes are. But he weaves his hand into her hair and puts his mouth on hers all the same.

His kiss is deep, passionate, it leaves Hange breathless and desperate for more.

So more she gets. And rehearse they do.

[fizziefactory]

How did you think up each of your concept for your Robo Fizz OCs? Like go in-depth about the choices you made, why you chose their names and such. I want details.

Questions about the fizzies || Accpeting

Oh that's a juicy one… and lengthy too, let's see where we can start. This got so fucking long holy shit pick your fav section idk I'm so rambly-

The very first muse I made was Factory Fizzy, or FF-8842. I can say right away that their factory name, which is the only name they go by, doesn't actually mean anything! I just think it's cute, I really love the number 8. In hindsight, 42 I can make the argument being a subconscious nod to “A hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy”, a book series I loved when I was a teen. 42 is the meaning of life, and FF-8842 is struggling to find the meaning of their life.

But most of all, Four-Two, or Fou-Too, just sounds cute.

They were originally made for a comic that I wanted to draw for the song The Fine Print by The Stupendium, sometimes I just get brainworms when I fixate, and I end up drawing lengthy comics to songs I like. I needed a fizzy to work in the Fizzy Factory for the song, so I made a fizzy with a simple design, clothes with no dyes, “horns” without fabric on them, basically a fizzy that didn't need to catch anyone's eye, nor drain resources and money. This is also why while they're quite strong, they're only 4’1”.

Now I play a lot on the idea of a fizzy that was created with a strong sense of self, of sentience, as soon as they were created. Usually it takes my fizzies a few years to reach sentience, if they ever do… but FF-8842 is a “defect” always at the verge of being scrapped for being too much of a free-thinker. This definitely evolved from the original comic, where they clearly do not possess the same distant look in their eyes as the other fizzies.

The second fizzy I made was The Manager. His name was originally just Office Fizzy, which I later weaved into his backstory instead. I actually asked my friends how I should refer to him, and they liked the simplicity of The Manager, and I think while it might be a little bit of a mouthful, it's oozes just what kind of person he is.

He is the Manager. He makes sure this clock is turned up and ticking.

For the comic, he was originally more of a guide for new fizzies, and of course the one doing the singing/talking in the comic, and if you want a good idea of what his inspiration was, look no further than the song itself. It's all there. Eventually Manager evolved into something different. He became, well, less someone handling the papers in an office, and more of an actual… manager, of the factory.

The idea to make it all Entirely fizzy-made tickled me, and so I tweaked his story a little bit, having him climb from an “Office Fizzy”, to being where he is now, so successful he even managed to alter his own design, which no fizzy of his model has done before… he even owns his own fizzies. Has businesses outside the factory (not to Mammon's knowledge but yknow-) making big cash and giving into greed because of the influence from Mammon, by simply being made in his image, and giving into it. A success story for the ages. He is a control-freak at this point though, to make sure he doesn't lose it all.

I also gave him an Australian accent because he's spending way too much time around Mammon. That's just a fun fact ♡ Also all the green and gold in his clothes also point to how closely he works with Mammon.

Mortis had his name change many times. He went from simply Undertaker, and I considered Morty Briefly… but decided against it real quick. I went with Mort for a while… but I just loved the way Mortis sounded. I know it's wormed into my brain because of Faith (don't ask me about the plot of that game I don't Know) but Mortis just felt Right. Mortis is the Latin noun for Death.

Mortis also came from The Fine Print. There's a section of the song that goes like this;

“If you'd rather drop dead, that's fine

But you know that dropping down dead bears a fine

So you do your job and I'll do mine

I gotta meet a six-foot deep bottom line”

And I don't know, it just fired off my creative juices like… what if there was an undertaker fizzy? That'd be so cool… and so out there xhdbbd. I have always had a complicated relationship with death, so I enjoy writing morticians because of their various different ways to approach the subject. Mortis started off approaching it quite casually… It's hell after all, but the more I wrote him?

I got to put myself in his head and how he was thinking, his life-philosophy, how me having placed him in Wrath affected his outlook, and now he's become almost philosophical, now he's holding sermons in Satan's name and I believe he puts his own beliefs into them… and despite having such a sad job, and how he has to face such misery and grief every day… It's somehow helped him become the most at peace fizzy I've got. Because he understands life and death better than any other fizzy, while also getting to be on his own and expressing and exploring himself best a fizzy can.

He is heavily inspired by the Undertaker in The Backwater Gospel, who is quiet and non-threatening, but his mere presence is enough to send you into a panic.

Why is he here?

Who’s going to die?

He's also heavily inspired by the YouTube channel Little Bubby Child since he's from Wrath and all. I will meme on him til the day I die.

Mizzy got her name from Maid Fizzy, you smoosh the names together you get Mizzy. For a while I also had Dolly as a suggestion, but it didn't really stick with my followers. So it's kinda become a nickname certain fizzies who knew her before the memory-wipe call her, like Thizzy and The Manager.

Mizzy was always meant to be a companion bot, I wanted a fizzy that actually did what the commercial advertised the fizzies to do. I made her a maid because I wanted to play around with her owner being a weeb, and I simply wanted to dress her up in cute little outfits that I knew a guy with his own companion bot would want to see. In time the idea of her once having belonged to Burnie Burnz, Fizzarolli's stalker, wormed itself into my brain… and the misery tripled from there.

I think it was because I wrote out a scene with a friend where I played him briefly before he got eaten by a sandworm (shoutout Beetlejuice the OG), and I recalled his line regarding the fizzies not getting him off right. I wondered what kind of shit a disgusting guy like him would even do to a fizzy if he planned on murdering Fizzarolli, so I, unfortunately, made Mizzy his fizzybot. The only solution was the memory wipe… and that's why she's so head empty most of the time. Her programming is protecting her from remnants at all times.

I really wanted to show how messed up the companion bot situation is with Mizzy, which is why she's been used sparingly. I love a good healing story though, so I've tried to bring her in more where she gets to regain her power and independence and tweaked her current owner to be a little less awful to give her a break… but still awful nonetheless. She's always ripe for fizzy-adoption.

Ginger has changed so much from the original concept. At first she was named Fuzzy, for a fussy fizzy. Then later when I switched up his design, opting for the red design in the commercial I thought looked neat as hell, I decided to go with Ginger instead. It just sounded right, all things considered.

Ginger started out as Fuzzy, who was heavily inspired by Sun from FNAF to be perfectly honest. I have 3 Sun OCs very near and dear to my heart, and I love writing anxious nervous wrecks… so that's what I did for a while. Eventually I leaned into him snapping more and more, running out of patience like Brandon Roger's Mom character, and as I wrote them in IC group chats, I realised more and more that Fuzzy was actually rarely if ever anxious… they were mostly stressed and Irritated.

And I was never happy with the original design… it was cute but didn't spark joy, it felt hasty. I spotted the design in the commercial I liked the most, and I remade everything.

Now Ginger is Something Else Entirely.

She's tired, he's pissed, he's at his wits end, and they're Dangerous if you look at them wrong. They became a Mama Bear, while also something of a Big Sister character… grumpy and with a resting bitch face… but a heart of gold below the surface.

I wanted to explore the fizzy for the kids and teens, the meaningless chores that fizzies have to perform for demons like carrying bags and making dinner and other kinds of butler-stuff, and just how straining tiring and meaningless it all felt, all while Also being a companion for the adults.. Despite Mizzy, Ginger has turned into the fizzy that's the absolute most disappointed with their lot in life, and hates Fizzarolli just about as much as Pinwheel. This is also why they are siblings in the human AU, they've got much in common.

Thizzy is simple. Therapist+Fizzy=Thizzy. Briefly he was called Shrinky, but I left it instead as a nickname he got from Doc, which he absolutely despises, because I could Not take it seriously.

Thizzy was taken from the commercial, I interpreted his neutral face as one of absolute indifference, and I figured this is Hell and this is Mammon so… originally he was meant to not give a rat’s ass about anybody, especially not his patients. However while writing my muse page for this blog, I had him write out short “profiles” for the other fizzies… and I thought Hey… what if he checked up on the fizzies too?

Now he's part of a larger process that The Manager runs where he checks up on the fizzies on the regular to make sure they're doing fine physically but also mentally (at least well enough to perform their tasks), and in time I found that Thizzy actually did care…

He cared too much, which is why he tried to not care at all. Because the alternative was to let it all get to you… Despite not wanting to get involved, it's in his programming to do so, and he's got a good heart, albeit only metaphorically.

Now he's just so tired... and working in the Sloth Ring doesn't help this.

His relationship with Doc is the result of when he was still in his early years and just performed his tasks as he was programmed to do… and now he's stuck in this unhealthy toxic relationship where he has to make sure Doc is happy all the damn time. Luckily for him, he mostly is. At least as a robot-

Finally, Doc! Doc is easy enough, he's Doc because he's a doctor! I did consider Doccy but it reminded me of. Another word, so I backtracked bxhrhe. I worried it'd be too generic but… it just fits. He's Doc. Nothing else fits like Doc does ♡

I just stared at the screen when Doctor Fizzy came on. Those colours. That Forced Grin, those soft little cheeks… that blank fucking stare. This was an unhinged doctor-character and I needed him in my life. My cringe, emo, deviantart-browsing, gore-loving, Higurashi-watching, Hatoful Boyfriend-playing, problematic teenage-self... they needed this.

He hasn't actually changed much at all. He was always inspired by those crazy doctors you see in anime, games and horror movies. Their silly giggles and the over the top surgeries and bone saws and all that stuff.. he's my horror and gore-character, for when I want to write a bit of this and that, which I do find a lot of fun.

I don't know what really made him as flamboyant as he is… I think just the nature of him being a crazy doctor character while also being a sex bot… and when I discovered the Bubblegum Coquette aesthetic- and in time I developed his relationship with Thizzy. His clinginess opened up the idea of how he's probably not got a lot of connections because of how “intense” he is, and while he's not quite as sentient as the rest… he's getting there, every time he reflects on how lonely he is.

His only way to connect with others was by keeping body parts of whomever he operated on, that was All he was ever able to get his hands on fair and square(?).. and he started getting unhealthily attached to those parts. Now he actively seeks them out because it's the only form of love and attachment he understands so far, and if he gets attached to people to a strong degree, there's a chance it turns into love/obsession, which will push him further into sentience, and so on now we have a yandere too.

Cringe.

But at least I'm free.

He's the perfect example of when a robot is Not taught how humans and emotions actually work, and now he's already registered what he knows as truths and facts.

Imma not cover Imposter too much cus really I just got inspired by that That's not my neighbour-song before I even knew there was a game, and I wanted to make a strong fizzy for quite some time, that could work as Manager's bodyguard to make him pose more of a threat than he did on his own. I loved the black and white aesthetic because of absolute neutrality, and my fiance mentioned that it looked like a pierrot and I was like Hell yeah accidental pierrot let's go-

They obviously has a bit of Ennard from FNAF in them, or the Mimic or whatever that new enemy is called... I think it's a pretty natural robot-plot device at this point. It is a fun bot to play in group chats where I can pretend to be my other muses and wait and see how long it takes my fellow muns to realise there's a question mark at the end of the tupper bot's username. It communicates through motions and clicks, sign language, when it isn't disguised, and is very mischievous and a troublemaker.. I dunno, the inspiration is "gremlin".

[ragnarokhound]

the what time stamp from sit, stay, speak 👀👀 i ate that fic up i need to know all extras about it

fjsldkajf Ok. When I wrote those tags this timestamp was PURELY HYPOTHETICAL. BUT WHELP.

Cross-posting it to AO3 too lmao

“Wait, wait, wait. I can’t be hearing this right. You were a dog? For a week?”

Tim sighs. He looks over at Dick before returning to the surveillance clips he’s sorting through.

“Yes.”

“And Jason didn’t know.”

“No.”

“Jason took care of you. For a whole week. Thinking you were just a normal dog. Jason.”

“Yes, Dick,” Tim says, long-suffering. 

And how long he has suffered.

Ever since Babs let it slip to Dick that Tim had been AWOL for a week and could use some help getting his cases in order, he’s been subjected to grilling from everyone. Even Cass texted him, demanding he spill it all. (She sent a single dog emoji, followed by an eyes emoji. Her methods of interrogation are as effective as they are inscrutable.) He’s had to explain the entire thing at least four times now, and it always comes back to the same ribbing questions.

“Wait. So does that mean— you actually ate dog food?” He stares at Tim with wide eyes, equal parts aghast and intrigued.

Tim wishes he were surprised.

“What— yes, Dick, I was a dog. Jason bought dog food and wouldn’t really feed me other stuff. So I ate dog food.”

“What did it taste like?”

“I don’t— like it smells? I don’t know, Dick, dogs have less oral sensory receptors than humans do. It was food. I was hungry. I ate it. It didn’t smell as good as the eggs or bacon did, but—”

“Todd fed you bacon,” Damian interrupts, eyes narrowing. 

Tim glances at him, not sure what to do about the weird note in his voice. 

It’s the first thing Damian’s said about the whole affair other than to roll his eyes and mutter a scathing ‘typical’ under his breath. He couldn’t have projected ‘I don’t care about your incompetencies’  any harder; but he also didn’t leave the room when Dick finally cornered Tim into explaining it all in detail.

And he’s here in the first place, in Tim’s Nest, helping with the mess. So.

“...Yes? A few times.”

Damian’s face twists into a dark scowl. “Tch. Idiot. There’s far too much salt in bacon, was he trying to kill you?”

Tim stares.

“Humans can eat a much wider range of foods than many animals,” Damian sniffs. “Most of what we eat should either be considered a treat or not eaten at all. This is basic. A child would know this.”

Tim doesn’t say anything about getting this unprompted lecture from a teenager.

“If Todd couldn’t be bothered to do even a basic internet search, I loathe to think of that man ever owning a real dog.”

“Who’s getting a real dog?”

Jason comes clomping down the stairs from the apartment with a grocery bag in hand. Tim’s heart does something he didn’t tell it to when he comes into view, holding a pack of Tim’s favorite energy drinks tucked under his arm. Jason doesn’t even drink those. He says they taste like death and chemicals, and he should know. Tim might swoon.

“No one,” Tim says at the same time as Damian says, “Not you.”

Jason frowns. “I could get a real dog, why can’t I get a real dog?”

Damian immediately rounds on Jason. “Please. You’re lucky it was Drake you were caring for and not an actual animal. You would have killed it!”

Jason scoffs as he crosses the walkway to lean casually against Tim’s computer desk. “Oh, come on. No way I would have killed it. Dogs are bouncier than that.”

Damian sputters, before launching into a tirade about proper animal care. Jason smiles serenely, always ready to wind up Damian as Dick looks on, partly amused and partly concerned, and Tim tries to bite down on his snickering. 

Jason sets down the six pack and pulls one off, handing it to Tim. Their fingers brush over the cool, wet metal, and Jason winks at him. Tim nearly fumbles the can.

“Maybe I should get a dog,” Jason muses, interrupting Damian’s rant before he can get started on the importance of socializing. He slants a grin at Tim. “What do you think, Timmy? How would you rate the Jason Todd experience?”

Tim’s thoughts go briefly X-rated before he gets ahold of himself. 

“Zero out of ten,” he says flatly, cracking the tab on his drink. “Would not recommend.”

Jason’s grin turns sharp. It's an expression that clearly says 'that's not what you were saying last night'.

“Oh?”

Tim makes a face at him around the can as he takes a swig. He hopes Jason reads it as ‘shut the fuck up, Dick and Damian are right here’ and not a challenge to see how far he can push it.

Thankfully he’s saved by Dick. First Robin, best Robin.

“You here to help out too?” Dick asks, clearly excited at the idea and trying not to show it, in fear of scaring Jason off.

“Nah,” Jason says, not unkindly. “Just swingin’ by. I had a suspicion that Timbit’s fridge would be about as empty as the last time I saw it.”

Tim squints at his screen, thinking back to lunch and trying to remember if he can defend himself honestly, but he’s pretty sure he just ate a snack bar from the pantry. He doesn’t think he’s so much as looked in the fridge since the morning he turned back into a human. He’d watched Jason make them breakfast from his place seated on the counter; Jason nearly burned the bacon, then blamed Tim for being…distracting.

(He maintains that the spell simply wore off after seven days. Significant numbers are also a thing in magic. Or was it nine days? It doesn’t matter. It was not true love’s kiss. Jason kissed him on the head the night before he changed back, but that doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t.)

Anyway.

Dick and Jason are chatting idly while Damian sulks in his corner. They seem to be comparing notes on Tim— and Damian’s— bad habits, but at least they’ve stopped asking him about the dog thing. Jason’s timing couldn’t have been better.

Gratitude for Jason swells in his chest. Tim watches him with a growing flutter in his stomach, and when Jason glances his way, caught, he smiles at Tim. It’s soft, conspiring. It rivals the moon.

“Alright,” Jason announces. “It’s about time I headed off.” From his corner, Damian grumbles something that sounds like ‘finally’.

“Thanks for coming by, Jay,” Dick says, clasping his arm. “Always good to see you.”

Jason ducks his head. “Yeah, yeah.”

He turns to Tim. “Try not to die of starvation while I’m gone, princess,” Jason says, ruffling Tim’s hair with a heavy hand.

Tim’s cheeks pink up. Princess? He’s about to— protest, surely, but Jason leans down over his chair, leaning in close.

“I’ll see you later?” He asks quietly, looking hopeful, his hand still warm on Tim’s neck. Tim can’t help how shy his answering smile is. In his periphery, Dick’s eyebrows shoot way up, and the tips of Tim’s ears go red-hot.

“Y-Yeah,” he says, super smoothly. “I’ll be here.”

“Good.”

All hope of playing it off to Dick and Damian goes right out the window when Jason leans in and pecks his mouth with a short kiss. And then a not so short kiss. 

Tim untangles his fingers from the lapels of Jason’s jacket reluctantly, opening his eyes in time to see Jason’s pink face and self-satisfied smirk before he’s turning around and hustling back up the stairs to the apartment. Presumably he’s putting the groceries away before going on his own patrol. Dick and Damian stare after him.

Tim can’t even be mad at Jason for dropping that little bomb and then escaping. He’d have done the same if their positions were reversed.

Of course, the second Jason disappears, Dick and Damian whip their heads around to look at Tim with big-eyed stares, one maliciously gleeful, one truly disgusted. Then they start talking over each other. Loudly.

“Timothy Drake-Wayne, explain yourself immediately—”

“I need bleach for my eyes, Drake—” 

Okay. He can be a little mad.

[a-simp-named-slickback]

Star-Crossed | Basim x OC | Part 4

As strange things happen at the House of Wisdom, Nashira begins to wonder what Basim has been up to the last four years…and what he’s up to now.

Nashira was never one to hold her tongue.

Perhaps being raised by her father had something to do with that.

Khalid ibn Mohammed was many things: a respected astronomer, a loving father, and above all else, a spirited debater. She’d seen him confidently share his theories and findings to rooms filled with the world's most celebrated scholars from Baghdad to Greece to Timbuktu. She’d also seen the many lengthy instances where he was asked to defend such findings, which he always did, with ample evidence to boot.

Anytime Nashira wanted something, she and her father had a little game where she’d have to defend her reasons as to why she should have it, while Khalid would argue against it. In fact, such a game is how she got Halah.

“A cat will keep the mice away,” A young Nashira stated.

“They are a big responsibility azizati” he’d say.

“I’m very responsible,” She persisted, “I study very hard, and I complete my chores without being asked.”

Khalid raised a brow, pointing to her study area, “Then why is your desk still a mess?”

“Because if it was clean, Baba, I wouldn't have any way to show you how responsible I am.”

Khalid let out a roar of a laugh. He could not argue with that logic. The next day he presented his daughter with a fluffy white cat.

She never held back in any conversation, especially an intellectual one. She’d learned the art of having tact, but that tact could only do so much in the face of outright foolishness. It was no surprise then when she openly criticized the House of Wisdom’s head scholar, Fazil Fahim.

The man was a charlatan, at least Nashira thought so. He spoke of people who came before, how they would come again one day, how his so-called “great work” proved as much.

Nashira read his research, she attended his lectures, and saw absolutely no basis for this claim. Fazil Fahim had no place as first scholar of the House of Wisdom if intended to spout the musings of a fool. Worse yet, he was spending an unthinkable amount of money on a pointless dig sight out in the wilderness. That part angered Nashira the most.

“To make such claims without any solid evidence is moronic!” Nashira exclaimed after one of his symposiums, “I expect better from a man as intelligent as Fazil Fahim, especially when he is the head scholar of the House of Wisdom. With the money he spends on that dig site, we could fund stipends for more scholars and pay school fees for students who cannot afford it otherwise. A terrible waste!”

What Nashira had not considered was that unlike her father, who was understanding and encouraged her to speak freely around him, other men did not take such talk as well from a woman.

Lately, she swore someone was following her. Around the House of Wisdom, around the markets, outside her home. She couldn’t explain it but she felt a presence near her at all times, starting around the time she made the comment about Fazil.

Perhaps it was him following her around? To confront her on what she said? If that were the case he knew where her observatory was. Nothing stopped him from simply strolling right in and giving her a piece of his mind.

Nashira sighed, drumming her fingers on the open book in front of her. After some contemplation, she let her thoughts drift to where she tried so hard no to let them go.

Could it be Basim?

Her mind filled with the image of his round eyes, his dark brows, his full bottom lip he bit when he was nervous….

She let out a frustrated huff, “Stop it Nashira….” She made herself clear the last time they spoke. That was all in the past. She was married to Omar and he was a good husband to her. This was just her wishful thinking again. The residuals of reckless teenaged passion.

She glanced at the open window. Why did she even bother keeping it open anymore when the only person who ever used it was him?

Nashira walked over to it, taking hold of the window panes and froze. Keeping it open just a little bit wouldn’t hurt? Right? It was quite hot today and the draft would be nice.

She dropped her arms by her side with a heavy sigh, resigning to her desk as she gazed at the window she was too cowardly to close.

Halah jumped into her lap, meowing at her.

She let out a laugh, “You’re right Halah, I need to forget about Basim,” She petted the cat, “Especially before Omar comes back…he’ll notice something is wrong with me and I wouldn’t have the heart to be honest as to why…”

The cat purred into her hand.

Suddenly, Basim leaped through the window. It wasn't in his usual way, he barreled his way in like he was in a rush, or rather a panic.

She gasped, “Basim?”

She paused upon seeing his expression. Basim looked distraught, “You need to get out of here. Now.” He walked over and grabbed her by the arm.

She resisted, “Excuse me? You can’t just barge in here and demand I go anywhere with you, not without an explanation!” She barked at him, and he backed a little in response.

Suddenly the doors of the observator burst open, revealing a group of heavily armed guards. Many of them holding weapons that seemed too coarse for a building full of scholars.

Nashira let out a scream, “What in the world?” She muttered under her breath. The guards drew their swords, filling the entrance. Basim stepped in front of her and Halah, a deadly look in eyes. It didn’t seem to match the face of the sweet boy she used to know, but she considered herself lucky to not be on the receiving end of it.

The biggest guard pointed his sword directly at Nashira, “There she is. Get her!” He ordered.

Basim drew his scimitar from his hilt, a deadly focus growing on his face, “Nashira, Halah, stay behind me.”

_______________________________________________

Basim panted, returning his scimitar to its hilt on his side. Around them lay the dead bodies of the assailants. Taking them out was light work, though he hated making a mess of the observatory.

Nashira stood in place clutching Halah, whose fur stood on ends. They both trembled after witnessing such carnage.

He walked over to her, “Are you alright?” He asked. His voice sounded gently and sweet, a total contrast to the ferocity he displayed in the earlier fight.

Nashira nodded slowly, eyes still focusing on the bodies in front of her. She had never seen so much blood before. She shivered thinking how It would have been her blood had Basim not arrived in time.

He sighed with relief, “Now you see why I need you to come with me?” He asked.

Nashira let out a shaky breath, “Why on earth would these men try to kill me?” She asked, clutching Halah tightly against her.

Basim stepped towards her, “Many people in The House of Wisdom have been going missing, some of them have even been killed. I decided to look into this and spoke with a man who said someone by the name of Al Rabisu was targeting scholars getting involved with a mysterious dig site out in the wilderness. Your name came up and I rushed over here.”

He let out a sigh, “I am just glad I wasn’t too late.” He said just above a whisper.

Nashira swallowed hard, “Me too.” She thought for a moment, “Who is this Al Rabisu?”

“That is what I am trying to find out,” Basim said, “Think, is there anyone you could have angered in the last few days? Anyone at all?”

Nashira thought for a moment, “Well…I may have said some critical things about Fazil Fazim?” She bit her lip nervously. Looking back on it, maybe openly criticizing the most powerful man in the House of Wisdom was a bad idea.

Basim’s eyes widened, “The head scholar?”

She nodded.

He exhaled, “Well I can’t say I’m surprised you'd do something like that.” He said, placing his hands on his hips. This pointed to motive for Fazim in regards to Nashira’s criticism, and further connected him to the order. Still, he needed to be absolutely sure before acting.

She frowned, “I know I said some harsh things, but what would killing me do? I don’t understand.” Nashira asked.

“I have my suspicions as to what Al Rabisu is up to, but first I need to get you somewhere safe.” Basim explained.

Nashira furrowed her brows as Basim guided her towards the window, “Basim what are you-” She was cut off by Basim blindfolding her.

She yelped when he picked her up. She tightened her hold on Halah as Basim carried them both out of the window. To where, she had no idea.

______________________________________________

Nashira sat in a strange room holding Halah in her arms, listening to the muffled voices below. Basim had been speaking with a hooded gray haired woman for some time now. Most of it sounded like her reprimanding him.

“What do you think you’re doing bringing an outsider here?” An older woman with a raspy voice asked angrily.

“I know, Master Roshan, but she was in danger. This was the only place I knew that would be safe.” He pleaded.

Roshan huffed, “You know the rules. No compromising the brotherhood.”

“She won’t,” He added, “I trust her with my life. We’ll keep her here as soon as I can figure out who’s behind the mask in the House of Wisdom.”

Nashira felt a sense of relief hearing him vouch for her to stay. She definitely didn’t feel safe enough to go home, especially with her husband gone.

Downstairs, Roshan didn’t budge, instead crossing her arms and hardening her stare.

Basim pressed his hands together, “Please master,” He lowered his voice, leaning in a bit, “This is important for the success of my mission.”

His mentor raised a brow, “Is all this important for your mission, or is she important to you?” she asked at full volume.

Basim opened his mouth to negate that, but couldn’t.

Nashira listened intently to the conversation, feeling her face growing red at what Roshan insinuated. She quickly shook the feeling away.

“That’s in the past.” she insisted to herself. She kept listening.

Roshan let out a deep sigh, “Alright. But make haste on finding out the truth behind Al Rabisu and this dig site. We do not have time to waste.”

Nashira let out a sigh of relief and heard footsteps walking up the stairs. She quickly busied herself, making it seem like she hadn’t been listening to that conversation.

Basim entered the space looking indignant after the harsh talking-to he just received, but quickly fixed his face once he saw Nashira.

“You can stay here as long as you need.” He said, “It is safe here.”

She sighed in relief, “Thank you, Basim…I really appreciate what you’re doing for me.”

He gave her a soft smile, “Of course, ya sayidati.”

She let Halah jump down from her arms, smiling when she saw her snuggle up against Basim’s boot, “If I might ask, where exactly am I?”

Basim let out a deep sigh, “I’m afraid I cannot tell you.”

Nashira raised a brow at him, but continued with her questions, “Then, can I ask what you are going to do now?” She hesitated, “Do you intend to…fix this issue the way you did in my observatory?”

Basim crossed his arms, “I will do what needs to be done to ensure your safety.”

She made an irritable noise at that, and Basim tried not to laugh. She hated not knowing things.

“What is with all these secrets? He’s never been this secretive…” she thought to herself, no doubt her face showing how irritated she was.

Basim gently patted her shoulder, “Try to relax while I’m gone.”

She rolled her eyes, “Easier said than done. You’re not the one with a target on their back.”

“True.” He shrugged, “At least not today.”

Basim turned around before he could see the look of wide eyed shock on Nashira’s face. Just what on earth does he do for a living?!

The steely look in his face returned as he glanced behind him, “I must go now. If you need anything, Master Roshan and Tabid will help you. I’ll be back soon.” He turned to leave the room, headed for the House of Wisdom to continue his investigation.

Just as Basim was about to turn the corner, he heard her voice behind him.

“Be careful.”

She said it softly, nearly a whisper. He smiled to himself, then turned just enough to nod at her, and left.

When he disappeared from her sight, Nashira let out a long breath, trying to shake off the feeling in her chest. She thought back to the fight that broke out in her observatory. As scary as the situation was, Basim skillfully subdued her attackers with ease.

If she hadn’t already known him, she’d swear he was a hero from an epic tale that leaped off the page and into real life. He could protect anyone from anything, no longer the defenseless boy from the streets she once knew. This Basim was a different beast entirely.

She shook her head when she realized she was thinking about him for too long, “Stop it Nashira!” she said to herself.

Her eyes drifted to Halah, who sat on the floor and looked up at her, tilting her head.

Nashira shrugged, “What?”

Halah simply meowed, walking toward one of the cushions on the floor to take a nap.

______________________________________________

Nashira knew she was supposed to stay in the room and out of the way of everyone else in the bureau, but her curiosity couldn’t stay away. It had been at least a day since Basim brought her here, and the only fresh air she got in that time was from the small enclosed courtyard just outside the bureau. She crept out of the room Basim left her in and made her way down the hall.

There weren’t many people at all in the bureau. The few people there were too occupied with their own studies to notice her. Or rather, she suspected, they did notice her and decided she was such a non threat they didn’t have to acknowledge her presence. She figured that was for the best all things considered.

She made her way down the stairs, taking note of her surroundings: there was a desk, a bookshelf filled with reference books and maps of the city hanging on the walls. Near the door was a board with several papers pinned to it.

Nashira got close to the desk in an attempt to read the papers on it, having to strain her eyes just to make out a few letters at a time.

“What are you doing?”

She whipped her head around at the sound of the raspy voice from earlier. There stood the woman in similar robes to Basim, only she had a red sash instead of the blue one he wore. Her hood was up, unlike the other hidden ones in the bureau, and Nashira could only make out the bottom half of her face. She must have been the woman Basim was speaking with earlier, Master Roshan.

“Nothing,” she sputtered, “I was just-“

“You were just looking at confidential documents?” Roshon finished for her as she stalked up to Nashira, towering over the younger woman.

“My apologies, I didn’t know they were confidential, they were out in the open,” Nashira clarified, “I don’t even have my magnifying glass on me so I could hardly read any of it.”

“A likely story,” said Roshan, “Or a clever lie.”

Nashira frowned, “I am no liar. And unlike you and Basim I do not keep secrets either.” She crossed her arms.

Roshan hummed, “Then perhaps you’re not so clever after all.”

Nahsira scoffed in response.

Roshan examined the woman in front of her. She didn’t peg this woman as a member of the order, but she could never be too careful. By the looks of her, she had zero fighting prowess about her. She was young, about twenty if she had to guess, olive skinned, shaped like a pear with a soft tummy, and lacking in muscle. Nashira didn’t possess any weapons on her person and definitely dressed like a woman could afford to hire people to fight for her judging by her elegant robes and jewlery.

It was clear she wasn’t a threat, at least not physically.

No doubt she was beautiful enough to compel the hearts of men and women around her. Men like Basim, who despite having grown from the scared boy he was when Roshan first met him, was still a man. A young one at that, making him an easy target for seduction.

She decided she wouldn’t let up until she had a better understanding of who this young woman was and what she was doing with her student.

Roshon narrowed her eyes, “Who are you?”

“Nashira bint Khalid ibn Mohammed.” She answered quickly, “I’m an astronomer at the House of Wisdom.”

“A woman astronomer,” Roshan thought, not hiding her intrigue in her face, “Being a woman in your position must make you quite vulnerable. Especially to men with fragile egos in the House of Wisdom I imagine.” She said aloud.

Nashira sighed, “Perhaps…I’ve been made quite aware of that recently…”

Roshan tilted her head. Clearly she was intelligent considering she was a scholar. Though intelligence does little to help naïveté it seems. Any woman in a lower class knew a man’s ego was a threat, as Roshan herself was well aware. However women of higher class lived in a world sheltered by the men around them. Those women had the protection of their well to do male relatives and whoever served them. Perhaps the events leading to Nashira staying here were a rude awakening on that fact.

Roshan continued, “How do you know Basim?”

Nashira rubbed her hand up and down her arm, “We were…friends.” She said, trying to keep her gaze locked on Roshan but couldn’t help but to shift her eyes to the ground.

“Friends?” Roshan raised a brow, sensing she was withholding information. Still, her hesitation to answer her questions regarding Basim did not seem to come from a place of deception, at least not with the goal of deceiving Roshan in this very moment.

Nashira shifted her eyes from the floor to Roshan’s, “Perhaps more than that.”

Now it was coming together for Roshan. Like his friend Nehal, she was just another piece of the past Basim had to reckon with, “I see…And are you still more than that?”

“No.” Nashira answered quickly.

“Why not?”

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, “He disappeared,” she looked Roshon up and down, “I suspect you know the rest.”

“The rest?”

Nashira rolled her eyes, “The parts I don’t know…or aren’t allowed to know it seems.”

Roshan clasped her hands behind her back, “Basim took an oath, to leave his past behind him and walk our path. To walk the shadows and serve the light.” She held Nashia’s gaze, “He has no room for anything else. I’m sure you understand Nashira.”

Nashira nodded. So then this was the reason he stayed away so long. This oath of his to leave his past behind, her included. After all the time they spent together, had he really intended to forget about her just like that? It took her years to make peace with his sudden disappearance. Was it really so easy for him? If he wasn’t required to come back to Baghdad, would he have even bothered seeking her out at all?

She swallowed hard. Why did the thought of that upset her so much?

Her somber expression didn’t go unnoticed by Roshan, “I do not say this to be cruel. I just do not want you to get you to get your hopes up.”

She met Roshan’s gaze with her own, “That will not be a problem. What we had is in the past.”

“Is it?” The hidden one tilted her head.

“It is.” Nashira answered sternly, “And once this is all over and I can go back to my observatory and we can forget all about this.”

Roshon paused for a moment, then let out a sigh. This woman was smart, but a terrible liar.

“Very well.” She said, turning on her heel toward the door, “I enjoyed our chat, Nashira bint Khalid.” She put her hand on the doorknob, “there are some books on the shelf behind you. I suggest you read those to keep your boredom at bay.”

Without another word she walked out the bureau, leaving a stunned Nashira behind.

Nashira held her gaze on the door, letting her feelings sink into her. Despite the presence of others in the office, she suddenly felt more confused and alone than ever.

What path did Basim walk that led him so far from her?

_______________________________________________

Hours later, Basim walked into the upstairs room, startling both Nashira and Halah out of their sleep.

Sleeping on the floor was not her preferred method, but at least the Hidden One’s hideout was mostly quiet, save for the sound of footsteps. She stretched her sore muscles and Halah followed suit.

Nashira noticed Basim seemed…off? Like he had grown weary since she last saw him hours ago. She wondered what made him so.

Given what happened at the observatory, perhaps it was best if she didn’t know any details.

“It’s done,” He said, “Come morning you’ll be able to return to the House of Wisdom with no danger.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “That is good to hear,” She relaxed her shoulders, “So, was it Fazil Fahim then?”

Basim figured she’d find out he was dead anyway once she returned to the House of Wisdom. so he nodded.

She raised a brow, “Are you going to tell me what was going on with all those disappearances?” She asked.

He sighed, “I cannot reveal-”

“Right, more secrets.” She rolled her eyes, getting a bit fed up with all this secrecy.

“Trust me Nashira,” Basim put a hand over his heart, “If I could tell you, you’d be the first to know.”

Her eyes soften, remembering her conversation with Roshan earlier about Basim’s oath, “It’s fine. Thank you ya sadiqi.” She smiled warmly at him, showing her sincere thanks.

Basim felt a warmth spread in his chest seeing her smile at him, “I can escort you home if you’d like? So you do not have to stay in…here.” He gestured around the room, beautiful but quite small and simple compared to the observatory.

She grinned, “I’d love that.”

_______________________________________________

Basim marveled at the estate in front of him.

Nashira’s home was beautifully decorated with sun, moon and star designs etching the walls and arches. The private courtyard he stepped into was filled with a lush garden and a fountain where the moon’s reflection shone in the water.

“This house is beautiful.” Basim touched the etchings in the archways. His own father would be speechless if he saw this place.

Nashira smiled, “Thank you.” She took a seat on the edge of the fountain, “Omar is always away with the merchant caravans so he figured he’d have the house built to suit my tastes.”

Basim clasped his hands behind his back, “That is good. You deserve a gorgeous home.” His eyes softened at her.

She smiled back, and then looked up at the sky. A skwak rang out, catching her attention. Moments later an eagle flew down onto Basim’s outstretched arm.

“You’ve been flying all day,” he fed the bird a snack, “Do you ever tire?”

Nashira tilted her head as Basim brought the creature closer to her, “This is Enkidu, my animal companion.”

The bird was beautiful, and quite alert, seeming to take notice of the woman in front of him. She carefully reached out a hand to pet the top of Enkidu’s head.

The bird clicked with delight at the action.

“It’s very nice to meet you Enkidu.” Nashira smiled at the creature.

Basim let out a chuckle, “I can tell he likes you.”

Nashira blew the bird a few kisses, not noticing her cat stalking up the winged creature. With one swipe of the paw, Halah hissed at the bird, causing it to fly back in the sky with a loud screech.

“Bad Halah!” Nashira picked up the cat, placing it in her lap, “you mustn’t hiss at our friend Enkidu.” She sent an apologetic glance at Basim.

He chuckled again, “Enkidu is a lot tougher than he seems.”

Nashira let Halah jump out of her lap. She patted a spot next to her on the fountain, “Please, sit with me.”

Without hesitation, Basim did as she asked. Stars filled the night above them, twinkling up above Nashira’s courtyard garden.

He sighed, “This reminds me of those times we’d sit on the roofs in Anbar.” He said, gazing above them.

Nashira smiled fondly, “Yeah, it does.”

A silence hung over them for some time.

She looked at Basim, taking in his new choice of dress. He wore a hood now, though it was down at the moment. His clothing was simple and plain, like a peasant or monk’s clothing. The only thing that stood out was the bright sash, and if you looked closely, you could see an array of thinly veiled weapons all over his person.

She gave him a long look, raising an eyebrow at him. Slowly the corner her mouth raised up in a smirk.

He noticed her gaze, “What?”

Nashira let out a small laugh, “I couldn’t help but notice how you choose the dress lately : hoods, concealed weapons…or should I say hidden? Much like those elusive hooded liberators you used to talk about all the time. What were they called?” She tapped her cheek with her finger as she circled around him, “The Hidden-”

Basim covered her mouth to stop her from talking.

His face turned serious, “Do not mention them, ever, understood?” He said in a hushed tone.

She nodded.

He took his hand away and she smacked him hard on the shoulder, “And stop shushing me!”

Basim grunted out a laugh at the smack and rubbed his shoulder, feigning pain. Nashira nearly hit him again but he caught her hand before she could.

“Nice try.” He smirked. He and Nashira laughed for a moment before realizing how close to each other they were, and that Basim currently held her hand in his. They both thought back to the times they used to play these kinds of games together in the observatory.

They were so close to each other. Close enough to feel each other's breaths on their noses.

He let go, clearing his throat and she tucked some hair back into her head scarf.

Nashira let out a little laugh, “To be honest I wouldn’t have figured it out had I not spoken to Master Roshan.” She mentioned.

Basim’s eyes widened, “You spoke with Roshan?”

She nodded, “She may have caught me looking at some confidential documents while you were away.”

Basim blinked, “I am surprised you lived to tell the tale.”

“As am I.” Nashira thought for a moment and then laughed, “I am surprised you took out those mercenaries so easily. I wouldn’t have expected that from you.”

Basim raised a brow, “What do you mean?”

“Well thieves aren’t exactly known for fighting.” She shrugged, “You were more so the ‘avoid a fight and run away as fast as you can’ type.”

“Hey now, I used to put up a good fight back then!” He protested.

She chuckled, “You certainly gave them what for…from the ground.” She winked.

Basim huffed in annoyance and rolled his eyes as she laughed thinking about all the times she saw Basim scrambling from the guards in the House of Wisdom.

She fidgeted with her hands in her lap, “I know I was a bit…harsh the night you returned to Baghdad,” She almost whispered, “I still stand by what I said, but, It is good to have you back. I missed having a friend to talk to.”

Basim smiled softly at the word friend. They had started out as friends, and he cherished that friendship just as much, if not more, than their romance for he would have never known he loved her without it. The love he had for Nashira never left, but perhaps it could change.

“I am glad to be back too. Even more so knowing we can still be friends.”

After a moment, she cleared her throat, “Roshan mentioned the reason you hadn’t come back to Baghdad was because of your Hidden One’s training.”

Basim nodded, “That is true. I needed to train hard and remain focused to reach my goal,” he explained, “and in order to do that I needed to take an oath to leave my old life behind.”

It grew quiet between them. He realized what he implied when he saw Nashira frown. Her face remained still, thought he swore he could see the slightest bend in her eye brow like something bothered her.

“Hold on, I didn’t mean- “

“No, do not apologize, I understand.” She assured him, “I’m happy for you. Becoming a Hidden One has always been your dream. Don’t apologize for following that path.” She gave him a small smile.

“You were my dream too.” He wanted to tell her, but remembered how she shut him down when they first reconnected.

Nashira couldn’t help but notice how tired Basim’s eyes looked. The dark circles pooled under them, growing darker since the last time.

“You are happy right? You look so weary,” She said.

Basim didn’t look at her, “I’m fine,” he lied. After killing Fazil Fahim, he saw another vision of the jinni. What used to only haunt him in his sleep now tormented him in his wake as well. He lacked the answers as to why, but it always happened when he slayed one of his targets.

Nashira placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you sure?” Her eyes grew more concerned as she tried to get him to look at her but he wouldn't. He couldn’t.

Instead he asked her, “Are you happy Nashira?”

Nashira removed her hand from his shoulder. She looked far ahead of her, gazing at the beautiful archway of her home, built for her by a devoted husband who loved her.

“I should be…” She muttered out loud.

Basim looked her way, seeing the forlorn look in her eyes as she stared ahead of her. What did she mean? She had to be happy, right? She had her observatory, this house, a kind and wealthy husband, everything she’d need to live a secure and comfortable life. What was missing from it?

He brought his gaze back up towards the stars. If this was how things were meant to be, how could she be unhappy? How could he be expected to let what they had go if he knew she was unhappy with this life?

He shook his head. No, no, he couldn’t think like that. He was harping on feelings from the past, not focusing on the reality of the present.

He stood up, “I have to go. Master Roshan is expecting me.”

He needed to go. He couldn’t stay a moment longer or he’d say something he’d regret and ruin any chance of them being friends.

Nashira opened her mouth to say something, to tell him to come back, tell him to stay with her, even for just a moment longer.

Instead, all she said was “Goodnight, Basim.”

Basim swallowed hard, “Goodnight, Nashira.” He disappeared into the night.

_____________________________________________

The sun was shining high over Baghdad as Basim leaped across the rooftops to get to the House of Wisdom. Weeks had passed since he assassinated Fazil Fahim and by the looks of things, the House of Wisdom was bouncing back from corruption.

No signs of burning books, people freely walking about, freely discussing their findings and philosophies amongst themselves and their students.

He smiled to himself. It was nice to see the results of his work for once.

He made it to the ledge just above the window into Nashira’s observatory. He grabbed a hold of it and swung himself into the building, landing effortlessly on the floor.

As he stood, he dusted himself off, “Nashira, I have some work for you from Master Rosha-“

He stopped talking when he saw not only Nashira’s wide eyes staring back at him, but about 10 other pairs of eyes as well. All them were young girls, anywhere from thirteen to sixteen years old. They sat together at their desks as Nashira stood in the front with a board showing complicated math equations.

She cleared her throat, “Basim, this is my class.” She turned to her class, “Class, this is my old friend Basim. What do we say to our guests?”

“Assalamu alaikum.” They said in unison.

Basim put a hand to his heart, bowing his head, “Walaikum Assalam. My apologies for interrupting your class, children.” He said, “Perhaps I should come back later.”

One of the younger girls perked up, “Ustadah, why does he dress like a peasant?” She asked

“Fatima!” Nashira used a warning tone in her voice, the kind Basim recognized as the one her father used to let her know she was crossing a boundary.

Basim shook his head, “It is fine ya sayidati,” Basim looked at Fatima, “That is a fine question, young lady. When I was not much older than you, I grew up in Anbar, one of the poorer districts in Baghdad. Because of this, I saw many people and children like yourself go without the things they need and treated poorly by others, myself included,” he explained, clasping his hands behind his back as he spoke, “My clothes are a reminder of the oath I made to help those less fortunate.”

Most of that was true, though the simple answer was that the clothes concealed his identity. These girls didn’t need to know for what reason though.

He continued, “Like all of you, I spent a lot of time in this very room learning as much as I could, thanks to your teacher.” He said, looking over at Nashira.

Nashira smiled softly at him and he returned the gesture. This action did not go unnoticed by her students, who unfortunately for her were growing more and more observant everyday.

One of the girls raised her hand and Nashira called on her, “Yes, Reem?”

Reem smirked, “Is he the reason you tell us not to talk to boys from Anbar?” She teased.

Nashira clapped her hands, “Class dismissed!” She said, completely side tracking that question.

Immediately the girls scurried from their desks and out the doors to the rest of the House of Wisdom, carrying their books with them, breaking off into smaller groups to chat and giggle amongst themselves, stealing glances at their teacher and this mysterious bearded man from Anbar.

When all the students were out of the room, Nashira slowly turned around to face Basim, cringing when she saw his hands on his hips and a cheeky expression on his face.

“And what’s wrong with boys from Anbar?” He asked with a playful tone.

“Nothing! Nothing,” Nashira giggled, “I just wanted to make sure my girls know to look out for their-”

“Sticky fingers?” Basim answered, holding up both hands and wiggling his fingers.

“No,” Nashira pointed to her mouth, “Their slick tongues.” She said before they both burst out into a laugh.

Basim chuckled, “Do your students know what a bad influence you were on me?” He asked.

In their youth, Nashira often dragged him along to parts of the library they weren’t allowed in, or would convince him to use his “sticky fingers” to swipe books about topics her father wouldn’t allow her to read. If they ever got caught, Nashira would distract the guards and stewards so Basim could sneak away with their bounty.

Nashira smirked, “You were a worst one.”

At some point in the middle of their banter they had migrated very close to each other, leaving only a few inches of space between them. They cleared their throats and put more space between them.

“So, what did you come by for?” Nashira asked.

He grinned, “Isn’t it obvious? I’ve come to see my good friend.”

Nashira cracked a smile, only to scoff when he crouched down to pick up the fluffy white cat.

“Halah!” He said in a joyous tone, holding up the chubby cat who purred from the attention.

Nashira thumped his forehead with her finger, “You interrupted my class for that?”

Basim shook his head with a laugh, letting Halah jump out of his arms, “Master Roshan needs to know which stars to follow to get to these locations.” He handed her a parchment with Roshan’s request on it.

Nashira read the parchment. Many of the locations extended out of Baghdad, into areas like Greece, Constantinople, even the Norse lands, “Why does she need to go here?” She asked.

Basim shrugged his shoulders, “I can not tell you what I don't know.”

Nashira tilted her head, “You mean you didn’t ask?” That was so unlike the Basim she knew, who like her, was always nosy to fault. Though it seemed this Basim didn’t question his master on anything.

Basim shook his head.

She rolled her eyes, “More secrets.” She placed the parchment on the table, “Very well, I’ll figure it out in a few hours. Right now I need to go.”

Basim looked confused, “Go where?”

“To Anbar,” She explained, filling a bag with books, “One of my students, Maha, hasn’t been coming to class lately because her mother is sick and she has to watch her younger siblings. So I’m going over there to teach her in her home.”

“Really,” Basim hummed thoughtfully, “I never thought someone from Anbar could afford such a class.”

“Of course she can’t afford it. That’s why I don’t charge her, or any of my students for that matter.” Nashira clarified as she continued packing, “Maha is too bright for me to let her fall through the cracks.”

Basim wasn’t sure what he felt just then, but he found himself smiling at her while she wasn’t looking. He suddenly remembered how she said teaching was how she wanted to better the world around her. It was nice to see her following that call to purpose.

“It is a good thing you are doing, ya sayidati,” he said, “Though I wish we had more time to share a snack of dates and tea.”

Nashira smirked, “Consider yourself lucky. Since you are so eager to spend time with Halah, you can cat sit while I’m gone.” She winked at him, before heading out of the observatory.

[windmaedchen-oceanhorn]

Writer Artist Interview Game

I am not really a writer. I write short drabbles on occasion but it's really not what I'd call my vocation. Hence, I dared to change the topic of this game. :-)

When did you start drawing?

The usual: very young. Always preferred images over letters. They reached me quicker and more reliably than words on paper. For the same reason I hate phone calls or even chats without emojis, as I cannot SEE what's going on. So, drawing a lot, always, for any fandom I liked and many other things, too.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy seeing than what you draw?

Since the images that wow me are not from one particular genre or style, I can't really gauge what I like and what not. I am easily affected by colours and I will always cherish anything drawn with intent and passion, no matter the skills of the artist.

Is there an artist you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Oh no, this would be such a good opportunity to shout out so many amazing artists out there! But... I don't have so much time to go research, as sadly I don't have it all in my head. T_T (I am so sorry!)

But I often find myself inspired by art I see, and then attempt to copy that style. Here is a collection of images that were done specifically inspired by other artists:

(If asked, I can probably name two of these four artists... it's been a long time...)

And a lot more images showing how I try to emulate a canon style:

Can you tell me a bit about your drawing space?

Office table, weirdly wedged into my room, height adjustable so I can stand, too. I'm currently using an iPad Pro and ProCreate as my tools to create.

What’s your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I don't worry about it. When you do something for fun, then there is no point in forcing you when you feel like you haven't been productive lately. I can be sad about it, sure, but in the end, you only do what you do and that's good and enough!

Distraction works also, as much as being busy with work. The little bit of free time then is more urgently used to get that one particular idea onto paper.

Are there any recurring themes in your drawings? Do they surprise you?

Uhm... I don't think so.

What is your reason for drawing?

I like seeing things! I draw to be able to see on paper what I imagine. Somehow that gives me a good feeling.

I also love to draw for others, because it's just as awesome for them to see their imagination on paper! Plus, I get to see these people happy. xD

What do you feel is your greatest strength as an artist?

Well, the above, I guess. I can visualise things and bring across an idea pretty much exactly as it is to someone else. I think I consider that my purpose as artist.

How do you feel about your own art?

I am finally at a point where I enjoy my own art a lot. That doesn't mean I am free of doubts, for I regularly still run into problems, like a face that refuses to look like I want, or a pose that's just too complex without reference etc. But by now, I shrug and move on to the next, with knowledge and more experience to make it better then the previous one. So, the learning curve has definitely not ended yet!

Thanks a lot for being tagged, @noisette-tornade.

I'll tag these guys: @feli026, @afktales ( you can change it back to writing!), @mochiandturtles, and... anyone who would like to do it. Please tag me, so I can read it! My mind is empty, I can't think of so many people right now. ...

[anancient]

get to know the writer . . . hey there! —

what made you pick up the current muse(s) you have? i didn't know anything about final fantasy until a friend of mine who roleplayed in the fandom ( if you see this north... heeeey! ) recommended it to me. i didn't have a way to play the game myself at the time so i spent hours watching various gameplays on youtube and i wasn't surprised that my favorite character ended up being aerith. the majority of the muses i write on tumblr are characters who at their core are always full of hope despite all of the hardships they face. and that is the epitome of who aerith is. it's what she represents. i see a lot of myself in characters like that, and so, when introduced to aerith, i saw a version of me that i strive to be every single day. she's way cooler than me though. and i'm still not 100% sure that i write her well, but i enjoy doing it anyways.

is there anything you don't like to write? not trying to copy-cat ari here, but i've never written smut and probably never will. respect to those who can, but it's just not something i am comfortable with.

is there anything you really enjoy writing? i haven't written much on aerith but from what i have written... i really enjoy getting to delve into her past. aerith, although surprisingly outgoing, is pretty closed off when it comes to talking about what she's been through. when i write i have a tendency to tap into my muses internal monologue. i've never been good at world building, but i love the storytelling. getting to dive into aerith's past and seeing how she carries it with her in the present is always fun.

do you write in silence or do you play music? i write best with no distractions whatsoever. so, i usually don't have any music playing in the background. i can write with instrumentals playing, but if a song has words or is too loud, it can be extremely distracting for me. i can do both but i definitely prefer to write without.

do you plan your replies or wing them? i'm not used to plotting ( shy girl things lol ), so a lot of my threads start out as memes or come from starter calls. when i do replies i usually respond to threads that i have the most muse for first? and when i say the "most muse" i just mean the ones that i already have somewhat of a response in my head for. i don't force myself to write so i only write when i have the ability to do so.

do you enjoy shipping? yes! next question.

what's your alias/name? my alias is just the letter b and it's the first letter of my government name. some people know what it is and i really don't mind sharing it, but i just prefer going by b! i've gone by b for years now and it just feels weird to go by anything else lol.

age and birthday? twenty-four, may 9th 2000.

favorite food, color, and song? i am a sucker for hot wings!!! my favorite color is either a light/pale yellow or baby blue. i don't have a favorite song, but a song i've been listening to non-stop this week is history of men by maisie peters. annnnd favorite season would have to be spring/fall.

last movie and show you watched? my sister made me watch frequency (2000) and it was such a good film. even though it's been 2 years since my mom passed, we're still grieving. so movies like this are very healing for us lol. last show i watched was worst ex ever on netflix.

do you have a tumblr best friend? i consider myself close to everyone that i talk to on a daily basis. i don't like labeling friendships because all of the people i've met on here mean so much to me for different reasons! and i believe that i have many more friends to meet in the future. all of you are my besties. sorry not sorry.

tagged by: @onegil ( ty ari! ) tagging: @lightspeeds, @arachnidbit, @tragicale, @noblehcart, @controlsnature, @cloudvii

[supergito]

Fusion Revived - CH 8 (Returning to Normal)

➤ This story is actually complete (finished Sep 2021) over on my Ao3 already; I'm just publishing it here on tumblr too for archival purposes. I hope any and all curious readers enjoy if they haven't checked it out yet!

SUMMARY: Majin Buu has been destroyed, and the Earth has known peace for close to a year now. Life hasn't been too peaceful for the person responsible for saving the world and the entire universe however, but when an ordinary woman meets him one day, things start to change.

RATING: Teen and Up. PAIRING(S): Vegito x OC/Reader, alluded Gochi, alluded Vegebul CONTENT: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Family Drama CW(s) THIS CHAPTER: None.

She sat outside in the same spot they were both in four days ago. There was no idyllic ambience this time, no feeling of peace.

She curled in on herself, with her legs hugged by her arms and her head resting against her bent knees. Miserable couldn’t accurately describe the storm that raged on since she spat fire at the women who ruined her happiness for the sake of their own. Worse than that, they stripped away Vegito’s sense of self, reducing him to a state of oblivion for those who made him to be freed.

She hated it, but she understood why they did it.

It was plain to see back at Capsule Corp, and even disregarding that, anyone with even the smallest degree of common sense would know that they rightfully wanted their husbands to come home. The fathers to their children.

They had families, something she couldn’t completely relate to as she’s never had her own. When Chi Chi claimed that she didn’t know what she was talking about, it held water.

But Vegito…did he ever belong to either of THEIR families? Considering what happened, no. He was stuck in a place where he was indelibly connected to both, but he could never and would never be what Goku and Vegeta were. He had the job of being there for his not-wives and sons, but it was one he was destined to grapple with, and ultimately fail at. That didn’t stop him from trying regardless.

Yet, it wasn’t good enough. Forget what she felt, Vegito was the victim here. Thinking of him as such may come off as she viewing him as some poor, defenseless man, when he was light years away from being such. He was able to take down the very manifestation of evil that had haunted the universe for eons with hardly any trouble. If he could do that, then what couldn’t he do? What couldn’t he reach?

That, was where he became a victim. The possibilities of having those questions explored was cruelly ripped away from him.

There wasn’t even a place she could send her prayers to for his spirit to rest. He didn’t exist anymore, but she still wanted to help him somehow. She wanted to bring him back, in a way where Goku and Vegeta didn’t have to disappear themselves. But was that even remotely feasible…?

She didn’t bother keeping track of the time, too stuck in her musings. She did notice when the air changed however, and someone’s presence was close.

She looked up.

Goku was before her, lowering his hand. He didn’t speak right away, choosing to jab his index fingers together as he self-consciously avoided making eye contact.

“…Hi…it’s me. Goku.”

She mustered a half-hearted laugh.

“I know who you are. Hi.”

He drew back, probably anticipating for she to lash out at him or the like. Seeing as she didn’t, he moved forward with no reluctance and crashed down to sit cross-legged. It’s a position she’s seen Vegito do a dozen times.

“Sorry for…bothering you.” The Saiyan maintained a gentle disposition, both in look and sound. It brought her back to the sparse times when Vegito showed her his soft side, before Vegeta’s influence came in and brought the cautiousness back.

So many comparisons she could make, but in the end, what did it matter?

“I wanted to see how you were doing.”

“…That’s kind of you.” Her head tilted back, to rest against the tree.

“But as you can see, I’m doing terrible. I miss him.”

Straight to the point, she hid nothing and left nothing vague. Talking candidly to Goku came as easy as breathing, in an indescribable but welcomed way.

“I know…this is going to sound weird but…” He rubbed the back of his head.

“I’ve been missing you too, in a way.”

“…Careful there. You ARE married, sir.”

“Heheh!” Goku laughed at her comment, flashing a broad grin. His cheeks were a peachy shade.

“I know! Chi Chi would kill me if she knew that I came here to see you, but I just had to.”

She listened keenly. She felt warm again.

“I have Vegito’s memories, and can remember the emotions he felt in them. Same should go for Vegeta. We both know how much Vegito cared about you, and on my end anyway, those feelings persist in me. It does feel wrong, but…it feels right too.”

Becoming the teeniest-bit uncomfortable at where this was going, she fidgeted but didn’t interrupt. She did latch onto what he said about the fusion having cared for her, apparently by a large margin, if his phrasing meant such. A sense of longing overtook her…

“I don't want to overstep any boundaries, but I do still want to be your friend. It doesn’t matter how Chi Chi would feel about it, or what she would say. I just can't abandon you, not after how you and Vegito bonded... I can't say with certainty that Vegeta feels the same way, but there is a chance. He's even worse with this mushy stuff than I am, so who knows?” He chuckled.

That was sweet. She appreciated that Goku at least wouldn’t cut all ties with her. He and Vegeta weren’t Vegito, but fragments of him in a sense. The only remnants. She would treasure that.

“Hey…Goku? Vegito told me that the fusion was permanent, but obviously it wasn’t. Did the Kais, or whatever they’re called, lie to you?”

“I don’t think so. Elder Kai was pretty convinced once two people fused using potara, that there wasn’t any way for it to be undone. He knew about the dragon balls, but I guess he didn’t consider if they could actually do it.” Goku gazed upwards, and hummed.

“Or, maybe he was aware, but thought that we would be fine existing as a fusion forever. Vegito was the perfect person to guard Earth after all. The best of Vegeta and me put together…”

He frowned. She inquired about his sudden mood drop.

“What’s wrong?”

“…I really don’t like how Chi Chi and Bulma treated Vegito.” He sat up straight. “It was unfair.”

“Tell me about it…” She grumbled.

“Defeating Buu was our number one priority back then. No matter what it took, he needed to be stopped. I told Vegeta there was no going back after we fused, and he still put on the potara anyway. We knew what we were doing, and we thought it would be for the best.”

It was, and it wasn’t. It saved Earth, but it brought pain right into their families.

“Both of our minds came together to form the base of Vegito’s, but he was his own deal. I think of him as a branch off of myself, but also…as a brother too. And kind of a son, in a really weird way.”

“Fusion in general is really weird.” She echoed, relating to his puzzlement.

“I feel bad. Like I failed him somehow, even though there wasn’t anything I could do.”

Goku admitted, and his face lost all of its prior cheerfulness. She related oh so painfully with him there. She was even THERE when Shenron was summoned, but she was too late to stop them from making the wish. She would’ve dealt with two furious, bloodthirsty widows, but she would’ve saved Vegito.

… … …

… … …

…Actually…wait a minute-

“Goku!” Her passionate and unexpected outburst made him jump. She stared at him intensely, hands balled into fists.

“Do you think that we can use the dragon balls to bring Vegito back?”

“…Bring him back? _____, he’s technically not dead, so there’s nothing to bring-”

“That’s not what I mean.” She interjected.

“Can the dragons balls bring him back as his own being, separate from you and Vegeta?”

This made the Saiyan freeze stiff, and wheels turn in his brain. He goggled at her as minutes passed. Anticipation and the smallest flame of hope made her shiver, but she waited as patiently as she could for him to answer.

“I…” Goku’s eyes darted in multiple directions, before settling on her own. “I don’t know. I don’t know how Shenron would make that happen, if he’s even capable of it at all.”

“But, is there a chance?”

“Yes, I have to say so. We won’t know unless we try.”

The wish-granting dragon of Earth could do so much, from wiping memories of a specific event from everyone’s minds around the globe to resurrecting multiple people from the dead at once, but was manipulating reality to this grand of a scale included? But Goku was right, they wouldn’t learn unless they went for it.

She was determined to. This was their only method of returning Vegito to this world, that didn’t involve fusion, and she would take it.

“We have to wait though, since the dragon balls are dormant right now. But Chi Chi and Bulma only used one of the wishes, so we have to wait four months instead of the usual one year.”

Four months? That was too long.

“What about the…namekian dragon balls? Can’t we use those?”

“I already did. I went to Namek yesterday, and used them to revive Vegeta since he was still dead.” Goku sighed.

“They’re dormant now too. We have to wait, and that’s that.”

That was highly annoying, but she guessed it couldn’t be helped. She had to wait four months to see if this ludicrous wish could even come true… Her fingernails dug into her legs out of vexation. At least it was only four months. If she had to wait a year, this agitation would’ve drove her up a hundred walls.

“Alright. Four months, then. I need to see if Bulma will let us have the dragon radar. I’ll ask her.”

“Really? Are you sure? Maybe it’ll be better if I ask.”

“No, I need to be the one. And not because this was my idea.” She breathed out, mulling over how to phrase this.

“Vegito…I have a hunch that she and Chi Chi felt pressured to make that wish because of me. Because of how close he was to me. I guess the both of them felt like they were losing Vegito, or more specifically, losing what was left of you and Vegeta. That must’ve scared them. If I was in their shoes…I would’ve been scared too.”

That was the truth. She didn’t believe she would’ve acted differently from them.

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think they felt threatened by ME specifically. More like the fact that…Vegito getting with someone else meant that their relationships with him would be truly over. They couldn’t let that happen.”

She felt weird saying ‘getting with someone else’, because she couldn’t determine if that’s what Vegito intended to do. She didn’t know if he had actual…feelings for her. Feelings like that.

She has realized that she herself is genuinely attracted to him. It’s obvious to her now. It’s stared her in the face, and it took she losing him for it to set in. What she wouldn’t give to hear his wondrous voice again, to see his alluring form, his smirk that got under her skin in such an intoxicating way, and his smile that was absurdly endearing…

Vegito at least liked her in a friendly manner, but anything more was impossible to establish. There was no way for her to know.

Not until he was revived.

“It’s kind of my fault that this happened to him. I need to make things right.”

Black eyes looked into her own, as their owner studied her carefully. With…respect? That was embarrassing, but also, it made her feel proud of herself.

“I understand.” Goku’s toothy grin gave her a confidence boost. “I think Bulma will give you the radar, she doesn’t lose anything by doing it. And when the time comes, I’ll go around the world to get them!”

He jumped up to his feet, fists raised and face shining.

“I have a good feeling about this _____! It’ll work out. I have faith.”

If he has faith, then she should too.

“I gotta get going now. I told Chi Chi I was going out for just a few minutes. See you later!”

She waved just as Goku’s body fizzled away into the air. Her mood was significantly better than it was before he visited, and she’s thankful he did. Their conversation was exactly what she needed, to lose this hopelessness and gain motivation.

She won’t go to Capsule Corp right away, as tensions were likely still high. She’d wait a week at the minimum, and perhaps longer, once she manages to figure out how to tell Bulma her plan.

Additionally, to apologize to her for calling her selfish. It felt good in the moment, but it may have been out of line.

                                                                                                             ༻ ❁ ༺

The smell of something delectable touched his nose with a tantalizing waft as soon as he appeared in his home, and Goku marched straight to the kitchen.

“Chi Chi! I’m home!”

When he entered the room, his wife was standing before their stove covered to the brim with pots and pans, while an assortment of veggies were lined next to her on the counter. His stomach was already growling up a storm, and he would’ve approached her to see just what she was cooking, but he was thrown off by Chi Chi herself.

Son Goku was very perceptive to ki. He was committed to understanding it back in his youth, when he was mentored by Kami and Mr. Popo, and he became somewhat of a master of reading ki when Gohan was born. Being able to gauge someone’s mood, and even their level of health, by how their ki radiated was a skill Goku found very useful, as he wasn’t great at reading the intricacies of body language or more unnoticeable signs.

It didn’t take long for him to piece together that Chi Chi was upset.

Her mood took a sharp fall the moment he announced his presence. She has yet to speak a word to him on top of that. He was clueless on the cause of it though.

“Chi? What’s wrong?”

“…Goku...”

She spoke softly, sadly, yet did not turn to face him. This worried him. He stepped towards her.

“What is it?”

When he drew close enough, he saw that her hands at her sides were shaking. Hearing him move to her, she turned around this time. Her eyes were glistening with tears, and she appeared desperate.

“Do you still love me, Goku?”

Confused, his head slanted.

“Of course I love you. Why are you asking?”

His blunt, innocent response had the opposite effect one may have expected. The woman’s tears fell, and her eyes went to the floor.

“I…Goku…it’s been so long since you’ve been home. You were gone for seven years. Then, when you came from Other World to be in the Worlds Martial Arts Tournament, I was so happy. Even if it was just for a day, our family could be together again. But…”

Her voice gained more strength, but it was still dripping with emotion. She looked him in the eyes.

“Those Babidi and Buu monsters ruined everything. You fused with Vegeta, and I lost you again. Forever, I thought. Vegito looked close to you, but he wasn’t you. He was never you. And now…I have you back, finally. But it doesn’t FEEL like you’re back, Goku!”

Where was this going? He didn’t like it. Chi Chi looked to be at her wit’s end. It’s fortunate that Goten and Gohan were out; he could feel their ki out in the wilderness surrounding their house, likely gathering ingredients for their mother.

He didn’t want them to overhear this.

“What do you mean by that, Chi Chi?”

“…You feel distant, far away. Like you aren’t here at all, but you are! You’re here now, but I can’t help wondering if you still love me. After everything that’s happened…”

He had a brief flashback, of what _____ told him earlier.

‘I guess the both of them felt like they were losing Vegito, or more specifically, losing what was left of you and Vegeta. That must’ve scared them.’

Chi Chi’s question then made sense. The martial artist breathed in and out. Here goes with this mushy stuff again, he was never all that great with it, but for his wife…this type of mushiness was special. Deserved.

“Chi, if I didn’t love you, I wouldn’t be standing right here. Right now.” He stared down at her, speaking gently but with a level of conviction that had her knees go weak.

“I wouldn’t have had our sons with you. I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you…once I found out what marriage actually was.”

The woman suppressed a giggle. Goku reached out to take one of her hands in his own, virtually eclipsing it. Chi Chi immediately squeezed his palm, always loving how the callousness of his hands felt against her smooth skin.

“I know I’ve been gone for a really long time. I want to make up for all if it. Every day, every minute. I’m here to stay, Chi Chi.”

He has no plans of leaving again. The only reason he thought it would be best to stay dead after Cell killed him, was because it would help keep his family and friends safe. He’s been a magnet for trouble, and he was tired of letting it hit so close to home. Ironically, they did have peace on the planet for years, and as soon as he was back for one day…

His decision ended up being justified. But part of him still regrets it. He had no idea Chi Chi was pregnant with Goten at the time, and he missed seven years of the boy’s life so far. Chi Chi had to raise him all on her own, with Gohan lending whatever support he could as her firstborn. He had so much to make up for.

“Oh, Goku…!”

She jumped at him, and they met in a warm embrace. He held her tightly, and deeply inhaled, taking in her scent. It always had a soothing effect on him.

From afar, lingering in the kitchen’s entrance from outside, their sons watched quietly with wide smiles.

“…You haven’t forgotten what you promised me, right?”

“Hm? What was that?”

“You getting a job. I expect you to keep to your word, mister!” She wiped her dried tears away and poked him in the chest, glaring in a lighthearted way but he knew all too well that she was serious. Goku chuckled, and leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek, much to her pleasure.

“Don’t worry Chi. You know that I never break promises.”

[quite-right-too]

20 Questions Game

Thank you for the tag @demdifferentstories-29 I want to add that most of my old works on AO3 have since been deleted unfortunately so I'm basically starting from scratch on here.

How many works do you have on AO3?

Currently 4 (but I have some plans for more)

2. What's your total AO3 words count?

15,718

3. What fandoms do you write for?

I write almost exclusively for Doctor Who but I'm considering doing other DT crossovers like Broadchurch.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

I only have four up right now so I'll just list them in order from most to least.

Dona Nobis Pacem (TenRose modern AU)

TenRose Ask Box Ficlets (ongoing inbox prompt ficlets)

Last Words (post-Journey's End nightmare drabble)

Grand Finale (one shot of @sneakertin's dark!Tentoo AU)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I will always respond to comments. I love the engagement and being able to talk to the readers of my silly little stories. The validation really gets me in the mood to write more.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

That title will easily go to Grand Finale because it's DARK. Chapter 17 in TenRose Ask Box Ficlets is also really heartbreaking.

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

Dona Nobis Pacem is still a WIP but it will be having a happy ending, I promise.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't really written enough to get any hate yet, but I do get a lot of heartbroken readers when I post angst.

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind?

I haven't but I do have some planned for the WIP I have going on right now.

It'll be F/M simply because that's the ship I write for and how my fics are written. I don't know if I'll write any F/F or M/M in the future, but it's always a possibility.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I have no yet, but wait til y'all see all the little things in my brain.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't believe so but you never know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I can confidently say that I have not.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't done a legitimate co-written fic yet. I would love to, but I'm not entirely sure of how it would go, especially since most of my work in the past has been educationally related and I've been the sole person working on it.

However, the wonderful @demdifferentstories-29 has been beta-ing Dona Nobis Pacem and she has added a substantial amount to it so I would basically consider it a co-writing situation. Lily is an amazing author and I'm legitimately still giddy to have one of my favorite fic writers beta-ing my silly little thing.

14. What's your all-time favourite ship?

All time favorite ship will always be TenRose. Obviously, TentooRose is in there mixed in, but that's simply semantics. He IS the Doctor so...

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

I don't know that I have one that I don't intend on finishing, but I always worry that my muse will just disappear on me and I won't be able to finish the few that I have started right now.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I like to think that my angst is pretty damn good. I used to do a bit of writing for an old OC RP I used to do and the angst of that was heavy.

Also, making sure things are accurate. Doing my research, reaching out to more knowledgable people on the topic who can better assist, and just overall covering my bases to make things as realistic, accurate, and respectful as possible.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm more of an essay/research proposal writer versus a novel writer, which means I have a lot of issues with telling and not showing. Another major issue is, again, being able to give accurate and intimate descriptions of the actual scene so the readers are able to visualize it themselves.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I don't know that I would do great since I would have to rely on Google Translate for it, but I would absolutely be willing to add it in there.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

It has always been Doctor Who. I know my old fics are still on this blog somewhere, as well as probably on my old laptop wherever it is.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

The obvious answer would be Dona Nobis Pacem, but I have a lot of plans for the Grand Finale AU in the future. That is one I'm super excited to work on this coming winter.

Tagging: @thirdeyeblue @tenroseforeverandever @rudennotgingr @lastbluetardis @gingerteaonthetardis

[nekrophoria]

Fruity Asks! 🍉🥭 for Serena and 🍌🍇  for Mabon

Thank you so much for the asks! And I'm sorry it took me half an eternity to answer them >_&lt;

Serena

🍉  :    which of the four seasons suits my muse best,  and why?  

Definitely Summer.

a) She was born in Summer

b) It sorta fits her personality best imo, since summers can be harsh but are usually warm and welcoming and carry a sense of liveliness

and c) She's the kind of person who thrives in warm and sunny weather, plus she loves going swimming which is infinitely more fun in summer

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

🥭  :    how important to my muse is their hometown,  or where they’re from?  are they proud of it,  or considered a hometown hero?  did they move away,  or do they wish to?

Already answered here!

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Mabon

🍇  :    how would my muse describe their childhood?  how much has it impacted the person they are now,  or will become as an adult?  around what age did they or will they start to mature,  and why?  do they wish to go back to their days as a child,  or have they embraced adulthood?  

How Mabon would describe his childhood? Simple. "None of your business."

Mabon would never disclose anything he remembers about his childhood to someone he doesn't trust 200%. And even then he really wouldn't see any good reason to talk about it with anyone.

He's an Alter of a Dissociative Identity Disorder System. Dissociative Identity Disorder is caused by prolonged early childhood trauma. Based on that alone one could say that his childhood is the reason for him existing the way he does and that it had a huge impact on him.

Although he doesn't have an emotional attachment to his childhood and perceives it more as Mel's childhood than his own for the most part, he holds a lot of negative and traumatic memories of that time, and his outlook on the world, other people, Mel, and himself was shaped by it.

Whether or when he matured through that is hard to say . For the most part I think he was forced to mature way too early in life. In other aspects (especially the more emotional and interpersonal ones) his upbringing stunted his natural process of maturing quite a bit.

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

🍌  :    is my muse inclined to help others,  or will they only do it when it benefits them,  if at all?  what makes them this way?  has it ever gotten them into trouble,  or inconvenienced them?

That one was more difficult to answer than I initially thought.

Generally...he wouldn't be inclined to help, not really.

Mabon's number one priority is himself and his or the body's well being. He's got a bit of a tunnel vision when it comes to anything beyond that.

Based on the context and situation if he benefits from it however he is more than willing to help someone, although for pragmatic reasons.

There are other alters in the system who are more prone to be triggered and front when Mel finds himself in situations where people rely on him or need support, which (so far) has kept Mabon from many scenarios where he could've been put in front of the moral dilemma "Do I turn a blind eye to someone who obviously needs help?"

I think if Mabon would for whatever reasons find himself in a situation like that and he could somewhat safely assess that the person in need is truly helpless/harmless or wouldn't screw him over in the process, or if lo and behold he actually cared for the person he'd have more trouble turning a blind eye than he'd like or might be aware of at this point in time

[moongurl95]

Chapter 2 – Welcome to Hogwarts

“I’ll be in touch.”

Those were Professor Fig’s parting words to her as she was left to follow behind Hogwarts’ Headmaster into the Great Hall.

The cheery hum of chatter that soon turned to whispers of curiosity would have bothered her on a normal occasion had she not been taken by the utter magic that was the Hall’s ceiling— “bewitched to look like the sky outside.” she remembered reading about it before the start of term.

She continued to let her eyes linger on the many candles that dotted the seemingly endless ceiling, that made them look like stars, before she focused her train of vision beyond Headmaster Black and spotted the semi-circular table that seated whom she’d presume would be her professors during her next years in Hogwarts, quickly noticing Professor Fig was not among them.

“Professor Weasley! We’ve one more to be sorted.” She’d heard Black exclaim just as he stepped aside to make her focus on the seemingly innocent wooden stool that was placed in the middle of the raised platform.

It occurred to her how surreal this all was as she had all but given up on the possibility of ever getting to attend Hogwarts, let alone be sorted into one of its four houses.

“Welcome, Beatrice Hayes. You’re just in time. Have a seat.”

Now glancing up at the red-headed woman who smiled kindly at her, she gingerly took a seat upon the wooden stool, tucking her legs in for good measure before she felt the unmistakable weight of having the Sorting Hat placed upon her head.

“Ah yes— a bit older than the others, aren’t you?” She heard the Hat muse, briefly wondering if the whole of the Hall heard its musings as well.

“You come here with preferences and preconceptions— certain expectations.”

She’d felt a brief prodding in her mind then-- a question asked that needed to be answered: The thirst for knowledge, or the exhilarating exploration of this new, magical world and beyond.

Initially, she’d have no problem picking the latter choice, but with her near brush with Death this morning and the mysterious aspects that surrounded her magical capabilities, she knew what the safest answer would be.

“I’m looking forward to meeting my professors and learning all I can at Hogwarts.”

“Indeed.” The Sorting Hat had drawled, as if waiting for her to say more, “Hogwarts has much to offer a dedicated student. And—” the Hat paused, as if assessing its next words, “—what you learn in class will prepare you for challenges outside the classroom as well.”

She smiled inwardly at that, considering the irony of the Hat’s words.

“Hmm… You’re clever, indeed. You have the ability to reflect clearly on that which puzzles others. And you’ve a ready mind. Quick to learn.”

Oh, now she knew which House she would be sorted in. She felt herself relax as her eyes drifted to the calming blue hues that made up the Ravenclaw table.

“And plenty of courage too, I see.” The Hat’s following words made her tense, “A willingness to forge ahead alone when you must...” She inwardly cursed herself for letting down her mind’s guard.

“I also detect a well-hidden sense of ambition… An eagerness to prove yourself.” The Hat continued as her eyes unconsciously focused on the next table mostly made up of green.

She first spotted a blond head that seemed to reflect golden under the candlelit ceiling, combined with his blue eyes, he fit the picture of looking absolutely angelic. She’d felt her mouth dry at that thought, until she also felt an unmistakably intense stare focused on her. That was when she took notice of the boy sat at the end of the Slytherin table, closest near the platform where she was at.

There was nothing near angelic about him really, add to it his unruly mop of brunette hair. But there was definitely something about the way he smiled that charmed her, almost drawing her in…

“Right?” The Hat’s smugly pleased tone instantly broke her out of her reverie. ‘No!’ She’d all but screamed in her mind as she slammed all of her inner thoughts shut.

“…No?” This obviously confused the Sorting Hat, but she had already decisively stared back at the Ravenclaw table.

“Well if you’re sure… Better be RAVENCLAW!”

She now kept her mental fortitudes up despite smiling at the Sorting Hat’s final verdict. The last thing she’d want on top of her already unusual predicament of being a new fifth year was to be caught in a “mere friendly rivalry of houses”— as Professor Fig had succinctly described during the earlier days of mentoring her about Hogwarts and its Four Houses.

Then it would be in her best interests not to get involved with Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin’s chosen students lest she be caught in any tension known to form between the two Houses— better now she rather be labelled as a recluse eccentric sorted under Rowena Ravenclaw’s House of scholars. She just had to play her cards right.

Welcomed by a round of applause, as Professor Weasley magically transfigured her robes to her appropriate House colors, she then made way towards her House’s table, spotting a dark-haired girl waving her over to come sit with them.

“Pleased to meet you, I’m Samantha. Welcome to Ravenclaw!” The dark-haired girl introduced as she sat beside her. 

“It’s nice to meet you Samantha, I’m Beatrice—” Her introduction was then cut short as the tinkling of glass was heard from where the professors sat, just as Headmaster Black made a show to signal the Start-of-Term Feast to begin. It was only then did Beatrice notice that Professor Fig had now taken his place amongst his colleagues, raising a glass her way in greeting, an amused smile on his face.

She smiled in return, remembering a passing discussion they had before on which House she was most likely to be sorted in…

“I daresay, you’d be a perfect fit in the House of Lions, you know.”

“As much as the Lion symbolizes bravery professor, I think there is still merit in being sorted into a House that puts value in wit and learning.”

“Can’t say I put any less value in those sorts despite having come from Gryffindor, myself. I did still end up being a professor, and am now charged with being your mentor, after all.”

Beatrice was pulled out of her reverie as she heard a boy beside Samantha speak, “Must be tough having one of the professors as your guardian. Can’t imagine how to get away easy from any sort of trouble if that was me.”

“Pffft! As if you’re one to get yourself into trouble, Duncan. I’d find starting school this late a lot tougher instead. I’m Andrew Larson by the way.” The guy sitting across from them introduced with a wink.

She'd hope her smile didn't come off as awkward, thankful that a platter of what looked like roast beef chose that moment to be handed to her, “Don’t mind Larson. Here, you should definitely try this, goes well with the mashpoes. Name's Constance.” The blonde-haired girl beside her introduced.

Cutting off meager amounts on her plate, she’d found herself more thirsty rather than hungry from the day’s happenings, making her reach for the water-filled goblet in front of her just as she heard Constance slowly speak, “So~ we’ve been hearing all sorts of rumors…”

Beatrice watched in fascination as the liquid she'd just finished started refilling itself with what smelled like berries, enticing her to quench her thirst more, her eyes focused on Constance over the rim to continue, “Were you nearly gobbled up by a dragon?”

“Constance, really?? A man from the Ministry was said to have literally been eaten during the incident.” Samantha tutted her roommate's tactlessness as she kindly offered Beatrice the platter of mashed potatoes.

“Merely trying to break the ice Samantha. You know how some of us tend to be a bit on edge even on their first night in school.” Constance emphasized a word as she rolled her eyes towards a boy beside Andrew, who looked quite focused on what he was reading and even seemed to be muttering dates and constellations.

Andrew softly elbowed said boy on his side, flustering him out of his musings as he now focused on the group’s newcomer, “Ah right! Pleasure to have you in Ravenclaw, I'm Amit. Never met someone who's been so close to a dragon before.”

Mildly surprised with how Amit had still somehow been listening in on the group's conversation, Beatrice swallowed the last drops of her drink before she remarked, “Can't say I recommend it, frankly. And it's true...” She focused on Constance then as she continued, “...the man from the Ministry was a friend of Professor Fig. Not exactly the typical start to a new school.” Not wanting to remember the dreadful scream that could start ringing in her head at any moment, Beatrice unconsciously licked her lips for any remnants of the sweet juice she had, suddenly needing a form of distraction.

Constance immediately looked apologetic, about to open her mouth when a light voice interrupted from beside her, “Well, we're glad you made it here alive, that's for sure.” A bespectacled boy peeked over Constance's shoulder as he spoke good-naturedly.

“Everett!” Constance harshly whispered at him, only making him shrug, “What? She seems downright calm despite the fact.” And outwardly she did, though inside she was already doing away with the events from earlier, securing them at the back of her mind to keep any more memories from plaguing her future dreams.

With introductions having been made and conversations now lulling to a pleasant murmur, Beatrice couldn't help but to just take the moment in and ponder on the fact that this place would technically be her home for the next months to come. Constance was right about the delectable roast beef combined with mashed potatoes, but what Beatrice truly favored were the sweets, particularly the strawberry shortcake she'd plucked from a nearby tray.

She savored her last bite as she surreptitiously looked around the Hall, trying to put faces into Houses, and noting some resident ghosts who lingered along the different House Tables, “I do hope we stand a chance to win the House Cup this year. Slytherins have got that cup in rows now, it's absolutely unbearable!” One ghost by the Gryffindor table casted a glance upon a miserable-looking entity covered in chains by the Table in subject.

He must have been the infamous Bloody Baron, judging from the way he'd still look mournfully at Lady Grey who silently lingered past the Ravenclaw first-years, only slowing to a stop in front of Beatrice a few seconds longer than she deemed comfortable before the Lady floated off. “If the Lion cubs don't even stand a chance, how'd you think we'll fair?” Someone from their Table asked none in particular as Beatrice continued to watch after the drifting ghost's form.

It was when she felt an unmistakable intensity again, did her eyes land on someone who was equally staring back at her. It was the same boy who was smiling at her as she was getting sorted, he smiled at her again now seeing as their gazes met. Not breaking eye contact, she smiled back politely as she leaned closer towards her side, “Samantha, would you happen to know who that boy is?”

“Oh? That's Sebastian Sallow, he's also a 5th year.” Samantha had answered matter-of-factly as she followed Beatrice's gaze across the Hall, it was then Constance started whispering excitedly from Beatrice's other side, scooting closer as she said, “You actually got him to look at you!”

Beatrice lowered her gaze to focus on what Constance had to say next about this Sebastian Sallow, “He's always got his nose buried in some other book most times, if not getting in detention on others.” That made Beatrice's brows raise in interest, gazing back up only to see that this Sebastian fellow had already looked away, talking to the girl beside him with an almost flustered look on his face.

“We all know he only became like that after what happened to Anne.” Samantha solemnly supplied.

“Poor Anne, never even got to come back to Hogwarts after the holidays during our 4th year.” Constance now sadly said.

Before Beatrice could even ponder on this, she noticed Andrew lean forward from across her, whispering conspiratorially, “If you plan on fancying anyone in our year, I'd advice to steer clear of Sallow and most especially his other friend, Ominis Gaunt. They seem to... have a bit of a 'dark cloud' looming over them, in a sense.”

She'd all but narrowed her eyes in response to his words when the Headmaster started calling all attention on him, turns out he wasn't just calling for the end of the feast tonight but also “cancelling this year's Quidditch season” much to the disappointed outcries from majority of the school's populace.

“I'm sure you all have plenty to do before classes begin tomorrow.” And so were the final words from the Headmaster that night as the Prefects started rounding up the first years from each house to follow them.

“Can't believe Black went off and cancelled Quidditch altogether. I was even hoping to join the tryouts this year!” Everett hushly fretted as their group remained seated at the table.

“As if Astoria would even want you on her team, Clopton. You've yet to even get away from Kogawa's clutches.” Andrew teased.

Beatrice watched the first years filing out, wondering how she'd have looked like had she been able to start at this magical school just like them, though she'd bet to have the same look of wonder a lot of them were sporting. “Don't worry, we'll give you a tour as we head to Ravenclaw Tower.” She turned towards Samantha who probably caught her staring out the thinning crowd.

Constance stood up then and said, “We're just waiting for the fledglings to get ahead since they have a tendency to gawk and stare at every tiny bit of 'magic' they'd see on their first night—” she stopped, as if having been caught about to say something as she stared back at Beatrice, “Not that you would, I mean.” Coughing awkwardly as she called for them to get going.

Beatrice only smiled good-naturedly at her housemates' antics.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – 

“We'd usually go for the Floo Flames when in a bit of a rush, you'd have to use it one at a time though.” Andrew started with the tour as they headed out of the Great Hall. 

“AND you'd have to speak very, very clearly on where you plan to go. Not if you want to find yourself in the deepest bowels of Hogwarts, of course.” Everett added, raising his hands to his face to reference a form of mandibles.

“Or worst! The Forbidden Forest!” She heard Duncan nervously say.

“I thought there were restricted sections in Hogwarts?” She asked.

“Well, you can't exactly Floo yourself in just about any restricted section, you've got to at least have been to the other side of the place you plan to 'Floo over'.” Constance explained.

“And... the Floo knows if you've already been? To an other place, I mean?” Beatrice asked, curiosity now peaked.

“Ignatia Wildsmith knows.” Her fellow Ravenclaws answered altogether without missing a beat.

“How nice to see you, my young friends.” Came a cheery voice down the corner from whom Beatrice could only assume to be the famed Floo inventor.

“So here we are, the Grand Staircase. One can consider this the most direct path to all dormitories.” Samantha now led as they went for the stairs, which Beatrice noticed just about magically appeared as one would step forward, making her hurry after her housemates.

“Easy now, these stairs are completely safe. There's never been an incident of anyone falling here.” Amit cheerily said. And if that was how usual people in the wizarding world took their days in stride, then Beatrice just had to learn to blend in, fast.

After climbing a couple more of the circular staircase, they'd made it to a dimly lit hall with pillars appearing to have rune symbols on them, “This is the corridor leading to the Ravenclaw Tower.” Constance quietly supplied, falling in step with her and Samantha as they let the boys handle the Knocker's riddle on their first day.

A shorter winding set of stairs later, they encountered the boys caught in a dilemma. “I'm not looking forward to being the Ravenclaw who slept out their dorm's corridors just because they couldn't solve the Knocker's riddle!” Amit exclaimed, almost panicked.

“Honestly Everett, what were you even thinking when you answered PEEVES out of all things???” Andrew asked in annoyed disbelief.

“I mean, with all the troublemaking he's been up to over the millennia here at Hogwarts, you'd think he was living his best life!” Everett let out a laugh, none too perturbed at the situation he'd caused, making Duncan look all the more miserable standing in a corner.

“Down sides to not having the simple passwords like the other Houses...” Constance grumbled with Samantha trying to calm everyone down as Beatrice came closer to the Knocker, willing it to ask its riddle again.

“Who lived longer, the ghost or the poltergeist?”

Ah, so there seemed to be the confusion. Because despite having read about a poltergeist having had come with the school's founding, and with how the ghosts at the feast seemed to entertain themselves with living vicariously through the students...

“A non-being can never have been.”

To Beatrice's pleasant surprise, the Knocker had heard her murmured answer, making it furl its wings on itself as the door unlocked, earning the delighted gasps and hoots of joy from her companions, “Not bad on your first night!” Constance grinned, looping arms with her. “Come on, let's find our rooms!” Samantha dragged her by her other arm as they climbed what she hoped were their last set of stairs to the Common Room.

All thoughts of the Knocker becoming mind-numbing over time was completely lost to Beatrice once she was mind blown with the celestial elegance that welcomed her. A life-sized statue of Rowena Ravenclaw greeted them into a carpeted space that gleamed like a star system of its own, from the chandelier that gently glowed amidst the calming blue tapestries that hang from the open ceiling, giving a glimpse of an unexplored floor above.

She'd just about spotted more seating areas beyond, round a fireplace, when the girls ushered her to another set of wooden stairs that led down, quickly taking note of the knight armors on both sides of the stairwell. “Keeps the boys out.” Constance seemed to have read her mind's question, spotting her glace at the opposite set of stairs which she presumed held the boys' rooms.

“So, what keeps the girls out then?” Beatrice asked as she followed after them. “Our vow of virtue?” Constance couldn't help snort at Samantha's reply. “Aha! First floor down, not bad and it looks like we're your roommates too, Beatrice!” Samantha exclaimed from inside the room, followed by Constance as she passed by the metal plaque that held their names by the door entryway.

“Hermes!” breathed Beatrice in relief as she spotted the barn owl beside her supposed bed, softly hooting back at her in greeting. “Thank goodness you made it here safely.” She gently stretched each of his wings, inspecting for any burned feathers or injuries.

“The house-elves must have let him in and also left you some basic necessities.” She heard Constance note, making her finally look at the sleepwear and toiletries on the bed, as well as the spare uniforms that hang from the unoccupied top bunk in pristine condition.

Doubting that all of this was left for her, Beatrice couldn't help but ask, “Is it... really just the three of us here?” There were four beds after all, but only three names listed by their door's plaque.

Constance sat up from the top bunk she'd already laid on, exchanging a glance with Samantha who had stopped from rummaging her trunks, “Well... Yasmeen was supposed to be here but...” Constance hesitated.

“But not all wizarding families are comfortable with the threat of a Goblin rebellion. Moreso that the areas around Hogwarts aren't usually as safe anymore, even at Hogsmeade.” Samantha quietly said.

Remembering what she and Professor Fig encountered on the way here, Beatrice didn't question the threat of a Goblin rebellion, but more if the unsafe happenings around the area were related somehow.

It was Constance who broke the ice then, “We should prepare for bed, before the first years take too much time in the baths.”  

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : –

Beatrice finished writing her thoughts from the day's events, letting the ink seep in as she stared out her bedside window, slightly ajar to let the last remnants of cool summer air in. She absently stroked through Hermes smooth feathers as he sat by her, with her bed curtains drawn and the soft snores of sleep coming from her roommates, it surely felt like she was enclosed in a safe, tiny space— no danger of dragons or goblins with glowing red eyes. If only dreams would keep her from remembering and sleep would come easy.

next chapter ⤜⤏

[sodascribbles]

two weeks of whump: day four

(read on ao3 here!)

Definitely not late! For @.promptsforyourwhumpfic's Two Weeks of Whump Challenge!

Belt | Gas Mask | Cage

characters — murray, the contessa, misc. guards, sly mentioned

contains — cage <3, stress position i think??, again the furry equivalent of dehumanization

notes — some helpful inspo :] ok don’t question the logistics of non-sentient and sentient animals co-existing we KNOW that’s canonically how it works (see muggshot’s bulldogs, rajan’s elephants, various nonsentient rats) but. don’t. don’t think about it too hard okay

In a fucked up way, he's almost proud.

Sly’s learned how to keep his head down. Murray has not. He fights his way through a good half of the guards on-duty before they can pin him down, bruised and battered but smiling, shouting, “Is that all you’ve got?!”

He’s wrestled into a space much too small for him, kicking and screaming all the while. It’s a cage, a literal fucking— Murray doesn’t know a lot about the technicalities of things, but that can’t be legal, right? (Eventually, both him and Sly will figure out that it didn’t matter. In the prison, the Contessa was the law.)

He’s not even really able to stand, hunched in on himself in the tiny space. It’s like he’s a caged animal— well, okay, Murray supposes that technically he is a caged animal, but semantics really aren’t his concern right now. Small as it is, he’s curled in the corner.

It’s almost vulnerable. Murray’s kind of a big guy, and to be forced to feel so small…

Physically it sucks, too. He doesn’t really know how long he’s been sitting in here, but he’s started to ache; his back’s protesting, throbbing outward from where his shoulders are pressed to the wire. He thinks his knees are bruised, too, both from the cage itself and from sitting so long on the cold concrete below.

The blood on his snout has dried, crusted uncomfortably against his upper lip. He reaches up to rub it away— but there’s still not a lot of room to move here, and he elbows the wire and knocks himself in the jaw. He eventually just drops his hands back into his lap, sighing.

At some point, the skitter of too-many-fucking-legs lets Murray know that somebody’s finally come to visit him. (Not that he really wanted her of all people to visit. He would have much preferred Sly.)

The Contessa tilts her head at him, smiling. She did that a lot, he’d noticed, always sickeningly sweet. He can’t wait to whack the look right off of her. “That’s quite the predicament you’re in!” She steps forward, and Murray draws back, face twisting into a snarl. He must really look like a caged animal now, huh?

“Do you want out?” Her tone pitches up, light and mocking, and Murray realizes that’s exactly what she’s getting at. She’s talking to him like one might a particularly stupid (wild) animal. He winces at the thought and tries to straighten up, but the cage makes it impossible.

The Contessa laughs. “Oh, you must,” she says, watching him strain against the wire. She reaches up to reveal a ring of keys in her hand, taking one between her claws, and for a moment, Murray dares to hope.

“You’ve been causing quite a lot of trouble for my guards,” she says, her smile unfaltering but her jaw tight. “I think you should do something to make up for that, first.” His hope pops like a bubble on a blade.

She pretends to muse over this for a few moments, analyzing him. “Perhaps we’ll start with asking nicely.”

Murray narrows his eyes at her, internally weighing his options. The idea of it burns, red-hot and nauseous— he’d taken down a whole squad of wolves, and now he was considering playing nice because, what, she’d asked him to?

…but he aches. If he wants to fight his way out of here (and what else could he do?), he’s going to need to be in top shape. And this? This is not top shape.

Unsatisfied with his hesitation, the Contessa clicks her tongue. “So be it,” she sighs. She reaches forward, reaching a claw through the wire to tip his head up— Murray winces as his head’s pressed to the top of the cage. “I suppose this does take care of some things. You’re quite a bit more… tolerable, like this,” she coos, smiling once more.

Oh, I’ll show her tolerable, Murray thinks, and then he bites her hand.

[badsongpetey]

Things are gonna start happening in the next chapter of Trollhunters: Returning, hold your gronknuts.

Preview (and spoilers for those not caught up) below:

Past Mistakes

When Jim was little, maybe starting around six or seven years old, he’d sit on the front porch for hours just staring down their street. He remembers believing with absolute certainty that any moment he’d see his father’s car round the corner, heading home. He’d do this day after day, week after week, and it didn’t matter how many times he’d be disappointed. Every time he sat down to wait, every time he heard a car approach their street, he’d have absolute confidence that his dad would come. He believed it so fiercely, so completely, that for him, it became reality. It was fact. It was inevitable.

That belief made the sobering realization years later that his father really was gone cut that much deeper. Because it came tied to the lesson that, for some things, no level of belief or desire was enough to change reality. Some things are indeed inevitable.

He’d clearly not learned this lesson well enough, he lamented as he stared dumbly at the prone figure covered in centuries of dust and cobwebs in front of them. Or maybe the universe just felt like kicking him when he was down for funzies. That was entirely possible too.

“Woooaaahhhh!” Toby squirmed as he fished the now glowing amulet stone out of his pocket.

Blue light illuminated his face in the dim light of the cavern as he turned the stone over in his hands. He glanced back a Blinky, who nodded solemnly in a silent encouragement, then turned his gaze to Jim.

Jim very briefly considered stopping him. He also briefly considered giving up entirely on the whole saving the future thing and just turning around and running as far as he could as fast as he could to anywhere that wasn’t here. But he didn’t. Reality wasn’t going to change simply because he wanted it to. He sighed and tried to give Toby a smile that looked real.

Toby nervously grinned back and took tentative steps toward the sleeping wizard. Jim knew what came next. He wanted to look away, to cower behind Aaarrrgghh or Draal until it was over. But then as Toby neared Merlin, a trio of lights escaped the stone to dance momentarily over his head before darting down and disappearing into the wizard’s body.

For a long moment, long enough for irrational hope to bubble up within Jim, nothing happened. The silence of Merlin’s tomb was deafening.

And then Toby startled and jumped back nearly loosing his footing as Merlin sat up abruptly with a long, wheezing gasp. The group looked on in shocked silence as Merlin’s gasp sputtered into a choking cough. Toby stood frozen in place as Merlin slowly got control of his breathing and turned to look at the boy.

“Are you the Trollhunter?” He asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

Jim couldn’t see the face Toby was making, but he had a pretty good idea of what his friend was thinking.

Merlin pulled himself up to a proper seated position and swung his legs over the side of his… er, bed?… to peer skeptically at Toby.

“I thought you’d be taller! Yes… I expected much taller…” he mused, brushing the dust off his armor. “And older. How old are you? Ten?!”

“I… Uh, I’m…” Toby stammered.

Merlin cocked an eyebrow at this.

“I’m sixteen, uh, sir?”

Merlin deflated a bit at this news. “I guess I was only off by… um, six plus four, carry the one…” he gestured in the air as he muttered to himself before his eyes grew wide, “fourteen YEARS!”

There was a pause while to the two stared at each other, and then… “HOLEE MERLIN, IT’S REALLY YOU!!” Toby exclaimed.

Merlin huffed. “Exactly what kind of troll are you?”

“I’m not a troll, I’m a Toby!”

[someotherdog]

get to know the author!

name : velouria! mutuals can call me rachel if they want since it's my real name but i respond to both

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : i prefer tumblr im to start with so we can get to know each other and do some light plotting. then move onto discord for in-depth plotting if our personalities mesh well :)

most active muse :  i go through phases where i'll have a lot of muse for a certain few one week and then lose their voice the next week lol, and a lot of the muses i have are quite selective because their setting/personality is very specific and can sometimes be hard to tap into. generally, i'm always rarin' to go with jeannie, ingrid, lisa, gideon, heidi, vikram, and taher. (now actually getting people to rp with these hoes is the hard part lmao)

experience / how many years : i don't want to talk abt it... jk, i started in 2005 i believe? on myspace mainly and i lurked a few message boards back in the day but never actually used them. i wasn't always roleplaying though, i'd often take long breaks throughout the years, sometimes for months, but it's been a part of my life for a long time! after myspace shut down, i went on to roleplayer.me until 2015 when one day i saw an rpg promo in devon bostick's tag (that name's a blast from the past, i know) and i subsequently made the permanent switch to tumblr :) so you can pretty much consider me a veteran around these parts. i remember the days when people used the cast of one tree hill when it was actually currently airing as fcs (or playbys, as we called them) and every third muse was named seraphina!!!

best experience : i think one of the best times i had on here was during christmas 2015 in the rpg hell state bc it was very active and i had a lot of good storylines going! the best time i had on rp.me was the group verse i had for a knockoff of terra nova called alia terra, which i actually made into an rpg on here and then made a closed verse between lucia and i so we could continue some dino fun! but i did it on rp.me shortly before i made the switch to tumblr so i kinda roll that all into one. i mean don't get me wrong i've had some great experiences on here, and lately have been having an amazing time with my writing partners, new and old, but those two are events that stick out in my mind. and also meeting lucia in 2015 duhhh of course!!!!!!!

rp pet peeves : honestly i don't want to say bc i don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or discourage people from writing with me lmfao, but i'll just say it has to do with dropping articles and using two certain french words 😬😬😬

fluff, angst, or smut : if i could crush up angst and snort it i would. i don't write smut (just a personal choice, not a judgment!) and fluff doesn't really interest me unless there's an undercurrent of angst or toxicity lmaooo, but i'm mostly interested in genre fiction like horror/slasher or sci-fi anyway and angst is kind of a package deal with those topics

plots or memes : i like to start with a general idea and then just kinda improvise. i also don't mind having structed plot points like going from a > b > c but having the freedom to do what we want in between those points. i also have absolutely no issue with changing or adding things as we go along! i'm basically very hype for anything

long or short replies : i'm a wordy bitch! when it comes to replies, i tend to stick with 2-4 for my 'shorter' threads but i have no issue getting up to 5-9 paragraphs if i'm really feeling something. no worries about matching length, btw, as long as it's not egregious like getting a few sentences in response when i wrote you four paragraphs, because i feel that's just rude. i also tend to start out small and get bigger as we go on, since i do like to begin with a general idea and add on from there

time to write : so before i started my current job, i only wrote at night because writing when the sun was up seemed morally wrong lmfao. nowadays, i sometimes write my replies at work on my google drive and then edit/format them once i get home, but that's only when i work alone and it's not super busy, and i actually have writing muse for that day. after work, i'll get on after midnight since i don't get home until late and need to put on my jammies, take off my makeup, eat dinner, and watch some tv. even on my days off, i most likely won't get on until late in the night because my family actually has the audacity to want to see me during the daylight hours 🙄

are you like your muses : i have a lot of muses that share similarities with myself, but i also have muses i have absolutely nothing in common with, like blair the satanic serial killer or lauren the son of a cult leader turned political campaign manager. more than likely they'll have something random from me like also being allergic to penicillin or they drive a buick like i do lmao, but i don't have a muse i would really consider my 'self-insert' character!

tagged by: @thewolfruns

tagging: i feel like everyone has been tagged to do this already?? so if you haven't, pretend i did so you can have some fun too :)