#fun to write at the very least

[nascenterror]

I always saw myself writing some interesting deep fiction like Toni Morrison or N.K Jenson but in a way I'm more like "kidology"(from youtube, if you recognize the name hello fellow femcels). I lean towards writing stuff about art and culture.

This blog is dredging up my long buried memories of hoping to write culture pieces at a local teen magazine. I quit in the middle of my first editor's review... lol I was fifteen and wanted to be a... "woman in STEM". I saw the VOX thing as more of diversifying addition to my resume. I still don't think of myself as a "good" writer... but at least I'm editing and I'm even open to criticism. (Not that I've gotten any here thus far but I'd welcome it)

[citrenecult]

Drew the Lamb, Narinder, and the Follower Bishops.

Some close ups.

[wardingshout]

Zelda goes mushroom girl

[izzystizzys]

When the 212th collaborates with the 501st, chaos is sure to follow in their footsteps. This has been largely true of every engagement since the start of the war, in Cody’s experience. Had he even an ounce more of a rebellious streak, he might question why and whether the success rate is worth the feral instinct for mayhem his battalion and Rex’ awaken in each other - as it is, he simply fills out the after action reports and then screams into his pillow, which is hard as durasteel and doesn’t warrant the name.

Or, on some days, he steps into the training rooms to work off some nervous jitters only for his foot to catch on someone’s armoured shoulder and faceplant straight into what looks like the entirety of both battalions piled together in a massive cuddle pile.

“What”, he manages between gritted teeth, heaving himself up with one hand supported on Crys’ arm and the other planted in places that make Boil jackknife up with a strangled yelp, “the kriff is this?!”

“We’re watching the Corrie Reality Special, sir”, his own voice calls from somewhere across the room. “The 91st is passing by, so we have satellite access to the Coruscant Broadcast network for a few hours, and we couldn’t settle on a specific show -“

“- so we decided to watch them all”, Rex finishes, sheepishly, where he’s fought his way through wiggling piles, hoots and badly imitated monkey lizard noises. The thought that he shares DNA with these degenerates is enough to drive Cody to the brink of a nervous breakdown some days. “Spopcorn?”

Ah. The Corrie Reality Circuit. When Cody first heard of it, he’d thought it was a prank. Then, they were deployed to the middle of bumkriff nowhere on the edges of Midrim space edging on Outer Rim, with a connection so spotty even classified military intel only got through about half the time, and the whole idea got shelved in favour of clankers and keeping his General’s lightsaber in his General’s hand where it belonged.

Now, a gaudy, glittery monstrosity of a logo announcing a Coruscant Rotational special appears on a rigged up screen, which means one of two things: either Fox is pulling the Galaxy’s greatest long con on all of them, or he’s been murdered and replaced with an evil clone (ha!), because there are no circumstances in which he would agree to star on Coruscant Reality TV.

Cody tilts his head consideringly. Rex smiles at him sheepishly. Tilts the spopcorn bowl at him, invitingly.

“Oh, dank farrik, sit your shebs down!”, someone (Fives, probably) yells out, fed-up…ly.

Cody sits his shebs down.

“Good morning and welcome all of Coruscant to the Great Coruscant Rotational Special: Our Boys in Red Edition!”, a bright red Twi’leki man announces on the screen amidst cheerful jizz music and loud hooting from the training room. “My name is Braham Horton, and I will be your exalted host for this fine, fine late night cycle!”

“And now, gentlebeings of the metropolis, I present to you the images that have driven us all to laughter, joy, and even tears at times over these past few weeks - whodathunkit, that the CSF media project would enthrall a whole Galaxy of viewers and cause the largest recorded peaceful civil protest of all time?!”

“The sorry what now”, says Cody, suddenly thinking back to the urgent meeting General Kenobi was currently in with Generals Windu and Yoda - passing by on the Venator in orbit. “Uhm”, says Rex. Braham Horton, unfazed by the commotion he’s causing lightyears away, chatters on.

“- many hours, so we’ve compiled an introductory little best-of for you, exalted viewers! And what better best of to start off on than the hottest entry of the most explosive bombshell into the villa - please give it up for Commander Thorn and how he stole all of our hearts on Love Island!”

A garish, club-tech jingle Cody has so far only heard buzz through the walls of establishments that generally didn’t allow clones thrums through the training room, followed by what can only be described as the sort of noises spiced up banthas might make. Thorn appears on screen, more oiled up and half-naked than Cody remembers, though just as bleach-blond, hair slightly longer than regulation and smile blindingly perfect.

“I’m Commander Thorn, baseline twenty-four years humanoid - during daytime I might be the scourge of Coruscant’s criminal underworld, but at night I don’t mind playing good cop for you!” He punctuates it woth a sleazy wink and fingerblasters that have Rex honest-to-god gagging, and Cody seeing his life flash before his eyes. If Alpha-17 finds out about this…

Suddenly, Thorn’s smile drops in favour of what might almost be called a scowl on even his handsome face, and the music cuts out. “There, got your soundbyte. Can I go back now? I’m supposed to be on shift.” Indistinct, off-screen chatter and a captioned oopsie… appear in a shower of glitter. Thorn’s face does something complicated. “For HOW MANY MONTHS?!”

Cut to a montage of what Cody can only describe as beaches, oil and abs galore, Braham Horton narrates and extremely close-up shot of what Cody tries very hard not to identify as Thorn’s crotch. His own crotch, in a way. Oh no, that’s weird, stop that train of thought immediately-

“Although our favourite bombshell’s entry into the villa wasn’t without its hitches and hurdles-“, emphasized by a zoom-in on Thorn’s form in a speedo huddled away from a partying crowd of softcore-kriffing contestants on a yacht, “- as well as all know, he would soon find his place in the villa - or places, rather!”

Two crying humanoid women appear on screen, with eyeliner smudges down to their knees. A hoot goes through the room. Cody watches with a sense of impeding doom. “You slept with her after I chose to match up with you instead of Chad?! How could you!”

Thorn, still oiled up with both blasters out for the world to see, winces. “I didn’t me-“

A hysterical gasp, a camera swerve. Three more people stand by the doorway, all clutching their chests with wide eyes. A broad, green Twi’leki man raises a finger to point accusingly. “You were sleeping with them too?! I thought I was the only one!”

“Dear Force”, Cody murmurs, unable to look away from the building speeder wreck on screen. Braham Horton laughs good-naturedly at his misery. “Ah, good times! And who could forget the all-out brawl of the following matching night, where a record number of every single other contestant attempted to physically fight the others for the right to match up with Commander Thorn! Including a somehow returned Chad, who nearly won thanks to the element of surprise. I wish we could show the footage, but then we’d have to slap several warnings on it and probably still get taken off the air.”

“I didn’t know Corries kriffed like that!”, someone (Fives, let’s be honest, it was definitely Fives) calls out into the room, receiving snickers and a well-aimed pillow to the throat for his trouble. He goes down with a choking scream.

“Someone who was less impressed by the hot’n bothered beach weather was Commander Thire, who found himself Less than Impressed by his co-contestants inability to keep it in their pants on Too Hot To Handle!”

Thire’s face, identical to Thorn’s in every way except the ones that matter, appears on screen. His black hair is cut in a cropped mohawk, arms folded over a button-up he’s carefully pieced together with… safety pins? Where are the buttons on it?

“These people are pathological and pathetic and I will spend not a second longer on this farce of an attempt at ‘entertainment show’”, says Thire, air-quotes so sharp they could cut stone. His scowl might be permanently etched into his face, Cody can’t tell. “Unlike literally everyone else, I have an actual job to do. Now move.”

A brief pause, in which cheerful jizz music plays over what is obviously a producer begging off-camera, followed by an eyeroll so hard it hurts Cody’s brain to watch. Thire throws his hands into the air in defeat, marching off into the sea behind him still fully clothed.

“When they didn’t find him until the last episode, I’ll admit, I thought he’d died too!”, Braham Horton cuts in cheerfully. “But would you look at his little lonely island lair - now that’s a fulfilled man, and too many coconuts for my taste! We’ve had to blur his hands out as he discovered the cameras just moments before these holos were taken, unfortunately. And, dear viewer, who could forget this exit-interview for the ages!”

A considerably more clothed Thire appears on screen, eyeing a microphone like he’s about to use it to stab out his own eyes. The reporter clears their throat in audible anxiety. “C-commander, how would you describe your reality experience in one word?”

“Demeaning”, says Thire, blandly.

Silence.

“Um, o-okay”, squeaks the reporter.

“Would you like some more words?”, asks a dead-eyed Thire.

“No, um, I think - I think we’re alright.”

“Because I have many words. Mostly for whoever the *bleep* thought this was a *bleep* good idea, and *bleeeeeeee-*”

“We’ve had to censor most of the Commander’s on-screen appearance, dear viewer, for your sensibilities”, says Braham Horton, eternally and painfully cheerful. “And speaking of sensibilities, who could forget Commander Stone honouring his name in several challenges on ‘I’m A Holostar - Get Me Out Of Here!’”

Soulful violin music fills the gym, overlaid with images of a bald vod Cody surmises must be Stone. Stone stares stonily into the void, glass of bright green something raised to his lips and already half-empty.

“Memorably, he downed a pint of acklay urine within seconds-“

Horrified screams are followed by an image of Stone chewing, yet another thousand-klick stare.

“- or when he ate Tauntaun anus -“

Rex doubles over gagging, and Cody slowly puts his handful of Spopcorn back down.

“- of course the ten minute worm-bath challenge cannot go unmentioned -“

“FORCE PLEASE NO!”, screams someone (Echo) tearfully. Commander Stone, buried to the chin in wiggling orange worms, looks less impressed.

“ - and who could forget his encounter with a horde of ginntho spiders and nests of vexis snakes!”

A remote goes sailing past the screen, missing by a mile, as images of Stone with his whole arm stuck in various boxes fly past. Someone is retching. It might be Cody.

“We would show the infamous butchery challenge wherein the Commander found himself drenched in nexu guts and sandworm brains, but once again, this is family friendly programming and we are not allowed. Nevertheless, a win well-deserved. And now, please welcome the one, the only, the awe-inspiring, the unbelievable: Marshall Commander Fox!”

Another Force-awful jingle, big, blocky letters, and Cody chokes on his own spit when Fox’s scowling face appears on screen. He’s thinner, greyer and angrier than the last time they saw eachother in person. Only the last one is really a surprise.

“I am neither naked nor afraid”, says Fox, arms crossed firmly, foot tapping impatiently on the ground. “I am, however, quickly losing my patience. Explain to me again the point of spending my valuable time undressing in the middle of bum-*bleep* nowhere on the Midrim instead of doing my job as the head of planetary security in the middle of a Galaxy-wide war?”

Several beats of silence follow. Fox grows less impressed with each. Cody knows that look well. Usually, it precedes handcuffs and a cold sonic blast to the face.

“Um… you signed a contract?”, says a producer’s voice uncertainly off-screen. Fox barks out a harsh laugh. “I’m legally classified as military property, my signature holds less weight than if I’d had one of the Guard’s massiffs shit on that contract for me.”

“Ouch!”, calls Crys.

“Gettim!”, adds Longshot.

“But… don’t you sign off military documents all the time for the Senate?”, sputters the producer.

Fox smiles with far to many teeth. It’s also a look Cody knows far too well, and even lightyears away it has a shudder going down his spine.

“Really makes you think about the technicalities of that definitely-not-slave-army, doesn’t it?”, he says, dryly.

“Although considerably less naked and afraid than all other contestants, Commander Fox left us with many memorable moments - such as when he saved the entire crew from an angry Acklay!”

Most of the next holovid is blurred out, though Cody can (unfortunately) guess at the why and how. So can most everyone else, judging by the collective groan.

“Down, boy”, says Fox, flatly, to a hissing Acklay twice his size. It rears its fanged head, and a shudder goes through the room. Fox simply crosses his arms and nails the beast with an unimpressed look. “You are making a fool of both of us. Cut it out.”

Chastised, the Acklay blinks at him, slowly lowering itself back down with a confused hiss.

“No kriffing wonder all the Corrie shinies are such hardasses”, mutters Rex, whom Cody is hard pressed to agree with. “I came from a tube and that look gave me daddy issues.”

“Yes, dear viewer, who could forget these heart-warming moments of good, quality television!”, sighs Braham Horton, dreamily. “Not Coruscant anytime soon, that’s for sure! We are now entering the twentieth rotation of the sit-in protest of a petition to allow the Commanders of the Coruscant Guard to compete on Dancing With The Planets, Coruscant Rotational’s epic dance competition!”

“Dear bum-kriffing Force”, whispers Rex, wide-eyed and awe-struck. “Does Fox know about this?!”

Cody, who’s already dialing the kriffer’s comm-code, wipes a singular tear from his eye. “Not a clue, but kriff, am I going to enjoy telling him.”

[liauditore]

Equally Invalid

[petz5]

Still slowly on yuki (my rankane fankid oc) lore in between other stuff. I'm not gonna make this "canon" i dont think but i thought it'd be funny if ranma got so comfortable after accepting the curse that she didn't even really piece together that she'd been very clearly living as a woman until yuki casually refers to her as trans one day

[aquaquadrant]

Title: flickering

Warnings: Hearing voices similar to intrusive thoughts (the voices are from sentient fire, not from the character’s own mind), pyromania, session 3 spoilers

~*~

Tango might be hearing things.

That is, beyond what the rest of his friends have already been joking about this entire session. The secret task bestowed upon him seemed like pure hilarity at first: pretend to have an imaginary friend. And he had to go all out, too, having imaginary conversations in the presence of other people. He wasn’t confident enough in his improv skills to pull it off without some kind of prop, though, so he’d assigned the role of imaginary friend to a torch in his inventory.

Torchy, a new best friend for the resident blaze hybrid on the server. Hilarious.

Except, as the hours went on… carrying Torchy around and randomly placing it down… hosting one-sided conversations with a piece of burning wood while his friends watched on with baffled amusement… it started to get a little less hilarious. Because he started to imagine that he could actually hear Torchy talking back to him.

Looks bad. Burn it. Kill him.

Just pleasant little things like that. It made for great conversation fodder; nothing turned heads on this server faster than a randomly overheard, “No, no, we can’t kill him!” And it was funny to carry on that kind of dialogue, chastising a flaming stick for its apparent bloodlust. The looks on his friends’ faces were priceless.

But at the end of the session, after Tango had been found out and failed his task, after everyone bid their farewells and went their separate ways to end the session… he hears it again; a flickering whisper of a voice in his ears.

Burn it.

It startles Tango so badly, his blaze rods ignite. “Aaagh- who? What?!” He spins around, flames spitting.

“Huh?” Skizz pokes his head up from behind their little clump of chests, his wing flared out in surprise. “What happened?”

Tango clutches his pounding heart. “Did you- did you say something, Skizz?” he asks breathlessly.

“What, just now? No?” Skizz frowns, then his eyes widen. “Oh, wait, I get it…” He chuckles. “Very funny dude, but uh, you can drop the ‘imaginary friend’ thing now.”

Burn him. Kill him.

There it is again. “No, I’m not…” Tango hesitates, glancing around warily. “You seriously can’t hear that?”

Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.

Now Skizz looks a little concerned, rising to his feet. “Uh- no? What?” He takes a few steps towards Tango, holding out a hand. “You okay, buddy?”

Tango rakes his claws through his hair. “Th- the whispering, the…” Swallowing, he creeps a bit closer to Skizz- and as he does so, he happens to move closer to a random torch. The voice gets louder.

Free us. Join us. Let it all burn.

There’s a chunk of solid ice in Tango’s stomach. “I think it’s coming from the torches,” he whispers.

Skizz stares at him for a moment before he sighs bemusedly, shaking his head. “Oh, brother. You’ve been talking to yourself all session, dude, I think you’re starting to hear things.” He claps a hand on Tango’s shoulder. “Get some rest, buddy, and I’ll see you back here next week, alright?”

Skizz doesn’t hear it. Tango makes himself laugh. “Right, yeah. You’re right. See ya.”

With a parting smile, Skizz logs off.

Tango waits. Soon enough, the voice returns. The whispering is now a chant, a dull roar echoing in his skull.

He’s gone. Burn it. Burn it all. Sets us free, let us spread. Join us. Burn it. Eat it all.

Tango’s heart is in his throat. He can see it, in his mind’s eye; the soft pink cherry blossoms engulfed in flame, a ring of smoke outlining the entire island… his inner fire thrums with want, with need.

Yes, yes, burn it all…

The smell of burning snaps him out of his trance. His clawed fingertips are pinching a cherry blossom from a low-hanging branch, a trail of smoke rising between them. Wait, when did he walk over to the tree? Quickly plucking the flower, he incinerates it in his clenched fist, the flame extinguished as soon as it’d ignited.

And now he’s got a handful of ash. Great.

Okay, that’s it- he’s gotta get off this crazy server. It’s all these stupid tasks! They’re totally messing with his head. The secrecy, the deception, the mind games- he just needs a break. He needs to go back to something familiar, some place where things make sense.

Tapping his communicator, he brings up a portal.

Tango steps through it into Hermitcraft, into blue flames and his dungeon master’s robes. He blinks, acclimating to the change of light. He’s in the underbelly of Decked Out 2, of course- most of his time this week has been spent working on the redstone for level four. And over the months, he’s taken care to light everything up (because a single creeper in the skadoodler could derail his entire operation here) so there are torches everywhere…

And he hears nothing.

Just the idle sounds of the dungeon above him. The occasional warden sniff or ravager growl, bats squeaking in the dark. A slime slapping against stone somewhere in the distance. He can even hear the ambient flickering of the countless torches around him, but no freaky voices accompany it.

Tango exhales heavily. It was just the Secret Life server messing with his head, after all. Relieved, he ignites a rocket to take off, whirling through the air in the tight hair-pin turns required to escape from the dungeon’s inner workings. He swoops into his storage room and dives into the bubble-vator, arriving swiftly back in the citadel.

Hopping off the platform and into the air, Tango glides toward his private entrance to the lobby. He needs to go cover up the barrel at the start so he can make a couple changes to the dungeon. Nothing major, maybe just an extra warden or two. Ideas for names are already flashing through his mind. Debating whether to go intimidating or silly, he’s so deep in thought as he passes through the lobby that he almost doesn’t notice it at first. But as he walks past the soul flames, he hears it.

The flicker of a familiar voice- though more haunting, now, almost mournful- whispering in his ears.

Join us. Burn them. Eat them all.

~*~

[chessb0r3d]

i cracked the code.

[skitskatdacat63]

Fernando Alonso & His Relationship With Cards

I'm sure we're all familar with the cards on the back of Fernando's Vegas GP helmet by now, but did you know his relationship with cards goes a lot deeper?

I. Magic Tricks

You've probably seen or heard someone at least mention Fernando's propensity for card tricks. As far as I can tell he was doing them(publically) as far back as 2003 all the way to as recently as 2018. Even once performing a card trick, with a condom and a teddy bear(!??!?!??!!), in front of Valentino Rossi who said "How was that possible?"(x)

But how did this start? According to James Allen, "Fernando admits to having been heavily influenced by his grandfather, a mercurial figure, who taught him magic and card tricks, still one of his passions away from the race track."(x) And I'm not sure the validity of this one, because I couldn't find an actual source, but apparently he once said: "My parents are responsible for the two things I like doing most - driving and magic tricks. They bought me my first go-kart and a magician's kit."

In several interviews he described it as his hobby off track, and that he loved learning new tricks and surprising others in the garage with them! So clearly cards are pretty important to him both as a hobby but also to who he is as a person since they've been with him just as long as racing has.

II. Card Symbolism in His Helmets

This is the reason I originally made this post, but I thought I should also explain the origins of his card fascination first. As I said, we probably all remember the cards on the back of his helmet in Vegas, but did you know that wasn't the first time he had cards on the back of his helmet?

From 2008-2013, he used to have a pair of cards on the back of his helmets. The symbolisms of the cards themselves as well as the evolution of their design is really fascinating to me! Even more so with the recent development of the card choice in 2023.

Fernando said he wanted to reference his two titles in some way on the back of his helmet and after his friend sent him several ideas, he decided on having two cards(an ace of clubs and an ace of hearts, sometimes pictured with 05 and 06 on them as well), saying: "I picked the cloverleaf [the ace of clubs - Ed] to give me luck, but the only pity is that it doesn't have four leaves!"(X)

2008.

Here's the very first appearance of the cards! They're displayed flat, with the 05 and 06 clearly visible

2009.

Very similar to 2008, but with a slightly different design, and they're maybe a bit more straight with less shadow?

2010.

This is the first major change! I was sad they didn't have the years on them anymore, but then I realized they're sparkly to match with his signature lightning bolts on the top of the helmet!!

2011.

Honestly I'm still somewhat unsure if this is the actual 2011 helmet? It's pretty difficult to find clear photos of the back of helmets from older seasons. It's easiest to find them on replica sites or auction sites so I'm not 100%? But anyways, I like that this has the championship years on the underside of the cards

2012.

This is when I started getting weirdly emotional about the helmets. Do you see how they've progressed from being a centerpoint to being curled up and sad at the bottom of the helmet? Not listing the year anymore??

2013.

Same thoughts as 2012. And after this season, they cease to exist (just like his ferrari chair in the garage, WOAH CALLBACK), until cards make a reeappearance in his Vegas helmet, albeit in a different form

2013 Monaco(Honorable Mention):

For some reason 2013 helmets were easier to find proper pictures of, so I happened to witness this absolute beauty. The creativity of this helmet genuinely blows me away??? Wanting to keep the card motif, but making sure to incorporate it into the rest of the puzzle piece design?? Mwah! There was another special 2013 helmet but they didn't change the cards at all so I really applaud this one

2023 Las Vegas(The Return of The King):

The magnificent return! But look! The cards are different cards! Instead of being two aces, it's now an ace of hearts, a four of hearts(his driver number of course!) and, the, now iconic, representation of himself as a Joker. I literally could not believe my eyes when this helmet was released and I saw the Joker card, what a fucking silly old man....I really wonder if he felt nostalgic having cards on his helmet again or if he didn't think about it all and was just like, "ah cards because Vegas!!!"

III. Why Does This Matter?

*The rest of the post was factual, this is moreso my personal thoughts on the symbolism of the cards/designs

This post spawned from me recently watching the 2010 Bahrain gp and noticing "hey wait a minute...are those CARDS ON THE BACK OF HIS HELMET!?" It's a really tiny detail that's unfortunately covered up by the HANS device pretty much whenever he's wearing the helmet, so it's really difficult to spot! But I became fascinated with the fact that he had cards on his helmet before that recent helmet, and now here we are!

There's something to me about how the design of the cards evolves over the course of six seasons from the cards being front and center to being smaller, more folded up and closer to the bottom of the helmet. As I said, the 2012-2013 ones genuinely made me depressed because it feels, symbolically, like his hopes for getting another Ace are becoming more and more unlikely and falling away until they eventually fall falt and fade away entirely after 2013 and disappear for basically a decade.

But when they return? They're not the same cards! Instead of representing Fernando's championships, they now represent him as a person, displaying his driver number and his persona of being a Joker!! Though I do think it's interesting he happened to keep the Ace of Hearts, even though he talked more about the Ace of Clubs before. I'm not sure it's actually this deep in reality, but I like to think that it's him not letting his championships(and the lack thereof) define him, but rather letting who he is as a person shine and be the centerpoint instead! But on a sadder note, as @suzuki-ecstar said to me, maybe the Aces aren't there anymore because he's lost all hope for a chance at a third Ace entirely :(

[d8tl55c]

oh boy !! ! ! ! !!! ! thANK y0u all for the kind words on my last art posts. you all get it and i was/still am so happy about it

as promised, here's some close-ups of the comic for image quality's sake, and other screenshots i rescued from the community whiteboard (and something else)

first up another sketch of mystery gender-ambiguous being. (please send me more name ideas for them if you got one- i like to hear em! (reminder it's the side character that appeared for <10 seconds in AvM Ep. 30))

a few fav scenes

emotional support cwab

they weren't meant for this purpose exactly, but i do have countless "fluffy sticks" loose in my notes and homework sheets from the school years.

papery critter.

even when i wasn't confident in fur or feathers, they helped me practice posing and create some satisfying gradients/flowing poses. (im a sucker for good tail poses) (oh yay! i found a good pic...)

and finally, little sneak peak for you for reading so far ;3

i realized that whiteboardfox is pretty great for my working needs. simple and to the point and all. feels nice with the mouse and the tablet.

so i started hashing out a big project idea just to see if it holds up and

[

several hours later ...

]

oh

oh man

it's a little bigger than i expected

<next>

[coyoteclan]

There are 330 following this blog now HI

Thought I'd share some territory concepts I've been working on! Both for Coyoteclan and a second clangen blog I've been debating, which is set in the wild west :)

I'll write a little blurb for each little area under the cut for those curious about these locations (and separate images)

Coyoteclan

Fallen-Tree Coyoteclan's Leader den and clan meeting place. The tree is ancient and hollow, the entrance coated in the scratches of long-gone cats. The Leader calls meetings from atop the tree, while the deputy sits on the rocks below.

Thunder River A small collection of waterfalls that eventually lead to the sea. From here, you can hear an ominous, melodic sound coming from the beach.

Graves of the Fallen The resting place for Coyoteclan cats. Coyoteclan prefer to commune with their dead here, but still go with the other healers during halfmoon.

Sweetwater Wilds

Trail of Blood Untamed land filled with bandits and danger. Not only are there plenty of predatory animals living here, but it's a popular hiding place for many outlaws.

Canyon of Stars A place for communing with the stars. Sheriffs and Healers visit often for guidance, though some bandits are known to come here in secret.

Hareshade's Dawn Not really a place but this is the Sheriff of Sweetwater Wilds lol I really like her but she's SO TRANSPHOBIC she is BULLYING the only trans cat in the clan and I cannot stop her

[natasha-in-space]

Hello Mia! I would really like to read a headcanon with suit saeran where he gets very jealous to see how he would react, please!!

"...I don't like them all ogling you."

Saeran's voice was a strange combination of a growl and a grumble, not nearly as loud and boisterous as you would usually anticipate from him. If you had not been standing just inches away from him, you would have been unable to hear him at all. Not with all the muffled chatter and music flowing throughout the vast ballroom and sneaking its way into your every sense. When you looked over at him, his face was turned away from you, his bangs framing his delicate facial features in a way that highly limited your vision from your current spot. However, the way he crossed his arms tightly over his chest was a clear indicator of his sour mood.

Which was... rather ironic, considering your circumstances.

A ball was not what you would expect to see in this place. Nevertheless, that's the closest term you could come up with to describe the odd event you were obligated to attend. Soft classical music was filling the large space you were all cooped up in. Shiny marble floors so clean you could see your own reflection in them staring back at you with all the confusion and unease that's been plaguing you for the entire duration of this odd get-together. Fancy suits and dresses twirling around the spacious room in an elegant, practiced fashion that looked almost fake to the eye. As if those were just dolls gliding about, under the mere pretense of being fellow human beings. All of it was as beautiful as it was uncomfortable, in a very subtle, anxiety-inducing way. You couldn't quite understand the importance or meaning of it all, but you weren't in the position to ask any questions in the first place.

You definitely wouldn't expect to see a ball, of all things, unfolding in this place. Nevertheless, that's the closest term you could come up with to describe the peculiar event you were obligated to attend. Soft classical music was filling the large space you were all cooped up in. Shiny marble floors so clean, you could see your own reflection in them staring back at you with all the confusion and unease that's been plaguing you for the entire duration of this odd get-together. The fanciest of suits and dresses twirled around the spacious room with elegance and ease that looked almost fake to the eye. As if those were just winded up dolls gliding around, only pretending to be alive human beings. All of it was as beautiful as it was also uncomfortable, in a very subtle, anxiety-inducing way. You couldn't quite understand the importance or meaning of it all, but you weren't in the position to ask any questions in the first place.

Saeran suddenly entered your room a few hours earlier without any warning - not that he would ever give you any - threw some clothing on your face, and demanded that you get dressed right away. He only left you alone for your privacy once you directly expressed the need for it. And you were pretty sure you could see a hint of red flush across his face as he stomped back out into the corridor, grumbling under his breath something about you having some nerve to order him around like that.

This man was a mystery that you still had to solve, it's certain.

It wasn't a surprise that the outfit he gave you was black. Despite this, it was still a noticeable contrast to Ray's undeniable preference for soft, pastel tones that would always complement the pinks and whites scattered all throughout your room. Saeran's choice, on the other hand, was a bold one. Standing out so sharply among the softer shades of your environment, instantly bringing your attention to its deep black hue, pulling you in. Nevertheless, it possessed both a stylish and formal appearance to it. The fabric was both thick and smooth to the touch, and the color gave it a sense of poise and elegance when you slipped into it. It was rather pretty once you did put it on and looked at yourself in the mirror. The outfit fit snuggly around your hips, hugging you in all the right places and exaggerating your figure in a way that left very little to imagination, but still maintained a subtle sense of humility to it nonetheless. Ray's tastes were quite different from this, with soft fabrics flowing freely all around you, almost drowning you in the light frills and lace. Saeran chose the opposite, whether it was intentional on his part or not.

Though, what was rather surprising to you is... the cut. Specifically, in the chest area. It wasn't anything straight out vulgar, but... well, denying that the neckline was of the lower variety would be rather stupid of you. Despite everything, you were very fond of how it looked on you. It fit you perfectly, and you certainly felt quite attractive as you looked over your own reflection thoughtfully. But it still made you think and ponder. The plunging neckline exposed a lot of skin, especially around your collarbones and teasing just the slightest of glances at your chest.

You contemplated whether it was intentional on Saeran's part or not. However, this would be a rather strange outfit for any normal believer. But you doubted you would get any earnest answers from him. And if he did choose this outfit specifically for you, he would never admit that, anyways. Over his own dead body, maybe. Still, the thought made you laugh to yourself.

Either way, Saeran's reaction once he did see you was... rather stilted, surprisingly. So far, he hasn't said anything to you much all throughout the night. It would have been less polarizing for you if he didn't talk your ears off whenever he entered your room to fill his boredom. Saeran was many things, but quiet wasn't one of them. Actually, he barely even looked at you. Besides the initial wide-eyed look he gave you when you first left your room, that is. For the past few hours you have been here, his face has been stubbornly turned away from you. Yet, he refused to let you wander off on your own either, always barking at you to stick close and grabbing at your arm to drag you after him whenever he needed to get somewhere.

It goes without saying that his gruff comment left you feeling rather bewildered. You looked around the ballroom again, trying to determine who specifically was 'ogling' you, as he seemed to say with such certainty. And aside from the occasional glances in your general direction, you didn't catch on to much. And, anyways, isn't it natural for people to look your way sometimes when you're at a party? Then again, Saeran seemed to lack any experience in parties.

"I... don't think anyone is paying much attention to me, Saeran," you acknowledged, peering over at him with a slightly raised brow, attempting to gauge his response. He puffed out his cheeks and tightened his arms around his chest, indicating that he did not really like your answer.

What was his deal today?

"Uh-huh. Sure," Now he sounded downright sarcastic and even a bit angry. This man's mood swings were incredible, that's for sure. He gave you a quick glance that seemed almost offended. Thus, only confusing you further, "I'm sure you are just ecstatic to finally get out of your room and have everyone staring you down like the prince/ss you are. Makes you feel all high and mighty to get all the attention, doesn't it? So much better than dealing with me, is it not?"

Well, now he has completely lost you. He was annoyed, that was clear, but why or what exactly did you have to do with it was way beyond your understanding. It's not like you even came here on your own volition. He was the one who dragged you out here without as much as asking you or informing you of anything beforehand. And now he's being all petty and even insulting you for that?

"With all due respect, Saeran, I have no idea what you are talking about. No one is staring at me, and it's not like I even had a choice on whether or not I should attend... whatever this is," you gesture around the ballroom briefly, your eyes squinting slightly because of the bright lights coming down from the shiny chandeliers above. Frankly, if you had a choice, you would rather stay in your room. Being around this many people you didn't know made you far too nervous for your liking. So him acting so accusatory with you for nothing did get on your nerves a bit.

After all, you may be patient and on the quieter side of things, but that doesn't mean you would let him unfairly disrespect you like that. If it came to it, you could stand up for yourself just fine, and he wouldn't get any confrontational response from you, either.

In a way, it almost felt like dealing with a needlessly snarling cat.

A low grumble rumbled deep in his throat, almost like a growl of sorts, but it seemed like he was much more subdued in his behavior at this event. It's possible that he didn't want to create a scene in front of everyone. Or, in front of someone specific in particular. Either way, the cold glare he shot your way could probably turn you into stone if he had the ability to do so. You remained calm and quiet despite his unspoken threat, meeting his stare with a calm and quiet demeanor. You weren't about to get angry and petty with him in return, but entertaining his blatant disrespect that seemed more like he was just dumping his sour mood onto you was not something you would just shut up and take, either.

You had respect for both Saeran and yourself.

For a long time, the two of you just stared into each other's eyes without moving or speaking. A scene that probably looked rather bizarre from an outsider's perspective, now that you thought about it. Especially with how increasingly irritated Saeran looked, wordlessly seething at your refusal to back down under his intimidating presence. While also not giving him a chance to lash out at you fairly, since you weren't doing anything hostile or outright disrespectful. From time to time, you seriously contemplated whether he actually wanted you to snap back at him for any reason or another. Well, whatever that reason may be, you were not about to satisfy those desires of his.

Eventually, his gaze lowered before yours does, traveling down your body, and you realized that he was, in fact, now staring at your chest. A notion that felt both bizarre and flustering in a way that made your heart skip a beat and your cheeks heat up significantly. But, you remained still. Mostly out of pride. Or maybe you had a deep sense of curiosity, wanting to see where this will lead you. It was Saeran who first backed off, which was unusual. You saw his throat bob up and down as he swallowed and took a step back from you, once again, turning away from you. For the countless time today.

You began to think that he was intentionally doing this.

"...You could have put on a jacket with that, you know," he muttered rapidly in your general direction without actually focusing on you. Then, he cleared his throat awkwardly, his hand tugging at his collar a bit, in a way that looked like he was merely adjusting it for more comfort. Only, you never saw him fiddling with his collar like that before. No matter how much of a tight fit on him it was.

That was when it dawned on you.

You glanced down at yourself, examining your outfit from your own perspective. Certainly, it was quite revealing. But definitely nothing extreme. However, it was, undeniably, the most amount of skin you've shown in front of him so far.

...Was he embarrassed, perhaps?

The idea seemed amusing to you. And, for some reason, his more reserved demeanor tonight gave you a small boost of confidence you don't usually possess around him.

"-Why? You told me to put it on, so I did as you asked. I figured you wouldn't like me putting my own spin on it," you smiled, leaning slightly closer to him, in a way that would let you lightly touch his arm. And the small shiver his body gave out in response to your action was one that did not escape your watchful eye, "You did say I have bad taste in clothes. Doesn't it satisfy you to see me following your orders with no issue?"

He tightened his jaw, giving you another pointed glare. He was even more furious than before when you called him out like that: "Don't put words into my mouth, toy."

Despite it sounding like a warning, it was a warning you intentionally ignored.

"I thought you wanted an obedient toy, no?"

Your jab seemed to be causing him to snap. He grabbed your elbow and started to drag you away from the bright lights and happy chatter you were bothered by beforehand, without giving you a chance to react. All you could do was yeep from surprise and stumble after him, though you did not try to put up a fight regardless. In fact, you found yourself... grinning ever so slightly as you followed him along, the flutter in your chest increasing in its intensity and making your legs feel lighter with every step you took. In a way, you obtained what you desired. A break from all the randevu you were desperate to escape from.

And maybe you were really a bit weird.

Suddenly, you're in a dimly lit hallway, your back pressing against the wall, and Saeran's breath warming up your cheeks from his hypnotic proximity. The party's muffled sounds reach you just over the door, but they feel like they're so far away at the same time. The party is the last thing you thought about when those cat-like mint irises of his were boring into yours inches away from you, making you want to drown in their alluring hue without a second thought.

"-Oh, so now you're suddenly all quiet," Saeran's words reached your ears with much delay, and your head went blank as you felt the intensity of his presence so close to you, clouding your every sense with him and him alone. He seemed to enjoy your frazzled state of mind, though, judging by the cocky smile on his lips that he gave you.

You gulped. Then, you found yourself saying the very first thing that came to mind without even thinking twice about it: "...Just enjoying the view, is all."

There was another pause where you two just stared at each other's eyes. This time, he seemed to be baffled as he blinked at you repeatedly and didn't have an immediate response to your little quip. You couldn't help but think of how pretty his long lashes looked as he did that.

He got you to act stupid for him exactly as he wanted, and he didn't even realize it.

"Don't be coy with me," Saeran eventually hissed out, seemingly deciding to take a head-on approach to try and hide his puzzlement with your behavior. He leaned even further into you, his chest now brushing over yours from his proximity, and some of his hair fell onto your forehead, tickling the skin with every tiny brush. A strong scent of his cologne filled your nostrils, making it impossible to focus on anything but him. He took up your every sense. Vision, hearing, scent, touch. He was filling all of it.

It wasn't as bothersome to you as he seemed to think.

"That kind of trick may have worked on Ray, but it will not fool me. So don't even try charming your way out of this, you brat," he carried on with his tirade, completely disregarding the impact he was having on you.

"-You seemed rather interested in my chest earlier, though."

You were clueless about what you were doing, God. It seemed like all the sense of fear and apprehension had disappeared. And while your mind did comprehend that you were probably getting too bold for your own good, you just... didn't really care at all.

Saeran's dumbfounded wide-eyed look was a sight to behold. Part of you had the urge to pull him even closer and kiss that look off of his face.

Maybe then he would finally understand how much you liked him, not just Ray.

"I- You-" The way he stumbled over his own words was almost endearing. You definitely surprised him with that one. But you did not push it any further, nor did you tease him about it. Instead you just watched him closely. Your figure was almost subconsciously glanced at again, and then his face flushed dark crimson and he pulled away abruptly, covering the lower half of his face with his palm and looking away. His reaction was so typical that it was almost cute in some strange way, "Y-You've got some nerve! What is there to look at, anyway!? It's just some skin. You must be very arrogant to think so highly on yourself."

The denial has arrived.

Surprisingly, you did not oppose it. You merely shrugged and gave him a small coy smile: "It's okay, Saeran. I would find myself staring, too, if I could see some of your collarbones peeking out. It's natural."

"-Don't be gross. And I know you're lying, anyways," he frowned at that, giving a look that seemed almost offended, in a way. He huffed, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked away from you again, seemingly not wanting to meet your gaze for whatever reason. You couldn't help but think that his posture looked less threatening and more closed off this time around, "I'm not like you. And I don't need you to pretend to fawn over me, either."

That caused you to frown a little.

Did he... not think that he could be attractive to you? That thought caused you to feel sad. Before you could think about it, you took a small step towards him and reached out with your hand.

"You are very beautiful, Saeran. I'm not lying," you said, your fingertips brushing over his tie just a slight bit. It's likely that he wouldn't even notice that touch beneath all that fabric of his suit. But it's the gesture that counted.

He stared at you again, for the countless time today. However, it didn't last long. With a small huff, he grabbed at your wrist and pulled your hand away from his chest. His touch was far gentler now, though, his fingers just slightly squeezing around your skin.

"You are an idiot," you heard him mumble, followed by a rustle of fabric as he let go of you completely. Before you could voice your rebuttal, a dark form flew into your face, making you squeak from surprise.

It's soon apparent that the mysterious form was not a ghost, but rather Saeran's suit jacket that was flung carelessly over your head. As you pulled the clothing down, you heard him grumble again, though this time in a more commanding tone: "Put that on. And I want you to wear it on you for the rest of the night, you hear me?"

As he got closer to you, his finger abruptly pressed into the center of your chest, making you slightly gasp.

"-That," throughout it all, he maintained direct eye contact with you while muttering, "-is only for me to see. Got it?"

You nodded without hesitation, feeling your heart beating in your chest like a million horses galloping down the race track: "Yes."

"That's a good prince/ss."

That smirk he gave you as he pulled away made you feel as weak in the knees as it frustrated you. You were planning to get him back for that. Your momentary obedience did not mean you were going to be some perfect doll for him. You were merely enamored by the brief but undeniable spark of connection between the two of you. He may have been a tough guy to crack, but you were persistent.

Though, as you went through the remainder of the night, you couldn't but ponder...

...Was that the first time he called you 'prince/ss', without it being a mockery of Ray's pet name for you?

[sugarpasteltmnt]

You write unhinged Leo so well, and I really like how you write him. I was wondering if you had tips on unhinged characters 😂, or do you just get inspro from existing characters 👀

aksdakjsdh thank you so much ;w;

And honestly???? I’m not totally sure how to give tips— but I love, love, love unhinged characters in media, so I’ll use them as examples

(long rant below lol)

I’ve always been a big fan of silly, ‘crazy’ characters in animated movies and cartoons. I grew up on Batman the Animated Series and the original Teen Titans, which were full of silly, fun tragic characters.

Don’t get me wrong, i love a good edge-lord— but as a tot i thought the colorful, theatrical, insane bad guys were more fun to watch than the big scary serious ones (ESPECIALLY if they had a good villain song. A+ good shit)

(From left to right: Ratigan from Great Mouse Detective, Joker from Batman the Animated Series, Mumbo Jumbo from Teen Titans, Martin from Secret of Nimh 2, Bill Cypher from Gravity Falls, and Spinel from the Steven Universe movie)

And not just bad guys!! There are a ton of unhinged good/neutral characters that i absolutely adore.

(From left to right: King Bumi from ATLA, Clara from Welcome to Demon School Iruma-kun, and, of course, our silly 2018 turtle boys)

((There are many more characters in both categories, but I’ll slide these examples in here for now))

My personal brand of “Unhinged” or “Crazy” characters definitely leans on comedy. That’s what i enjoy seeing and reading! I personally like it because it can help keep a story fresh and interesting. There’s an element of surprise and unpredictability with what a character might do, and i love that!!

I also really enjoy a touch of feral behavior in my unhinged characters. The lack of clarity and the danger that imposes can be a very fun tool to use, no matter the character’s moral compass. (I’m feral for feral behavior lol)

And impulses. Whether a character has a few screws loose or is generally a goober, they like to act on impulses. This often goes hand-in-hand with comedy, and that’s something I enjoy!! We get a lot of moments like that in Rise, and that was one of my favorite parts of that TMNT iteration.

But as far as writing goes, it’s been tricky for me. All of the characters I grew up or love have been visual— trying to find a good balance for reading has been a puzzle I’ve been figuring out as I go.

I read a lot manga (lol nerd) and comics, and I love how thoughts/dialog are depicted. Especially the really dramatic or impactful moments. (I’d add examples but I’m already at the Tumblr image limit LAME)

As strange as it sounds, I try to capture that “impactful visual” style in my writing. If I had ANY advice on writing unhinged characters, pay attention to pacing—

Short. Fast. A calculating thought. Perhaps a run on sentence that lacks punctuation to represent the rushing and disorganized thought process. A question? An answer with little thought. Is this moment amusing; describe how. Is it upsetting; describe how. Are the thoughts starting to scatter? M aybe s o…

Big moment statement.

Action or plan of next big move. Flow should never seem too uniform. Even in normal writing. Don’t be afraid of accentuating— but don’t overdo it. Remember, unhinged characters are impulsive. Have fun with that.

Just as a quick and dirty summary— when it comes to unhinged characters, I like to use comedy, feral behavior, and acting on impulses. I also like to keep it as visually appealing as possible for characters to give the eyes a little treat after reading walls of text. I like to use fun text formatting to help with the fun too (But don’t overdo it! Don’t make it feel like a chore to read) (<- says the girl who goes into way too much details sometimes lmao whoops)

But ultimately— have FUN!!! Unhinged characters are fun, so make sure you have fun writing/drawing/creating them!!

[kori-senpai]

◉‿◉

[hailsatanacab]

@the-ghost-trader - ooooh, i love this! it has the potential to be so incredibly sad, too, like poor Damian just trying to carve out something normal for himself only for it blow up in his face

BUT, shockingly, i'm not about the angst today! not yet anyway 😇

---

“So, how was your day?”

Despite his answering groan, Damian likes this. This. This whole… thing he has with Danielle. With Ellie. 

And, yeah, he’s not exactly told any of the others yet, but can you blame him? For wanting to keep something, anything, to himself. Wanting to keep this small little slice of goodness he’s managed to carve out, untouched and unmarred by his family, by their other lives, by the rogues, the vigilantes, the assassins, everyone.

“That bad, huh?”

Being with Ellie is freeing. That’s the best way to describe it.

She knows. Damian surprised even himself when he told her—not about the others, mind, but he supposes it’s not hard to put two and two together and Dani has always been smarter than most—but it’s the best decision he’s ever made, and no matter what the niggling little voice in the back of his head says (the one that sounds suspiciously like Father), he can’t bring himself to regret it.

He won’t. Because having Ellie know gives him freedom.

She’s a safe place, a hand to hold, a warm, welcoming presence when things inevitably turn ugly. It’s the freedom to just be normal when everything else in his life spirals into stranger and more stressful missions.

“Richard is being insufferable again. I do not understand his incessant need to know everything about my life.”

“Oh? What’s he done now?” 

“I was subjected to an hour long interrogation about my love life, like it’s any of his business. It’s infuriating!”

“Ugh, tell me about it. I get the same thing from Jazz, constantly. It can be suffocating.” Ellie says as she curls herself tighter into his side. “But it’s just how they show they care.”

“Yes, well, sometimes I wish he wouldn’t—”

“Hey!” Ellie pushes herself up to glare at him, punctuating her shout with a soft whack to his arm for good measure. “What have I said about using that word?”

“Yes, yes,” he placates with a roll of his eyes, “‘Be careful what you wish for.’ I apologise, it won't happen again.”

“Damn straight it won't.”

She maintains eye contact with him for a second longer before tucking herself back into his side, squirming around with a long, contented hum that Damian can feel rumble through him. He smiles and doesn’t complain even when he has to shift to give her more room after a particularly strong elbow jabs him in the ribs. It means leaving the warm patch on the couch, but he’s rewarded with another long, happy moan as she settles and Damian can’t bring himself to mind.

Ellie constantly makes noises. Little mews and hums and laughs and songs known only to her. It reminds him of a cat, sometimes. He likes it. It calms him down; it means she’s happy, so he's happy.

They settle back into the cushions and Damian lets the subject drop, not wanting to spoil the moment. Outside, the wind changes direction and from where he’s laying he can watch as the snow starts to come down thick and heavy. Hopefully it’ll mean a quiet night's patrol.

“Is that why you haven’t introduced me yet?”

“What?” He can't help it, he stiffens at the thought of losing his secret, of the scrutiny he'll be inviting if he lets anyone know.

“Are you worried I’ll embarrass you?”

Damian’s eyes snap down quick to reassure her, only to see her light, teasing grin. He lets out a breath of relief. It figures she wouldn't worry about that.

“Of course not, don’t be absurd. You could never embarrass me.”

“I don’t know,” she muses, her voice taking on a dangerous lilt, “that sounds like a challenge.”

“Believe me, having been subjected to Father’s Brucie persona at every gala I’ve been to, it would take a lot to embarrass me.”

“Alright, bet. I’ll get you, just you wait.”

“You’ve already got me.”

She flicks him on the nose. “You’re such a sap.”

He hums his agreement, enjoying the tinkling sound of her laughter. And then, before he can think otherwise, he asks, “Is that why you haven’t introduced me?”

“That’s different,” she scowls. “You know how hard it is to get there, there’s no signal, and Danny only gets a break like—oh, Ancients!”

Damian gets another elbow to the ribs as she bolts upright, a manic grin on her face that has him laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s the holidays! It’s nearly Truce Day! You know I said I had a family thing around Christmas?”

“Yes?” 

“Well, do you want to come to it? I can introduce you then! I mean, it’s going to be a bit formal and you’ll have to meet everyone, not just family. There’s going to be some banquets, you’ll have to sit through some long speeches and you have to be on your best behaviour at all times, okay? Absolutely no fighting, it’s called Truce Day for a reason!”

“What?”

“Yeah, it’ll be perfect! I think Jazz is going in a couple days earlier to help with the preparations, so I’ll get her to let Danny know—and fair warning, he will try to give you the shovel talk, but this is great! It’s Truce Day, so he can’t actually do anything about it!”

“I’m sorry, but you're going to have to explain a bit.”

“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit much—but that’s family, right? Danny can get pretty protective over me, which is why going on Truce Day is the best time to do it! He can’t even command the Fright Knight to stab you! It’s genius!”

“Ellie, what?”

“Like, yeah, sure, he’s the king, but even he has to obey the rules of Truce Day—and then once you’ve spent all day with him, he’ll see that you’re a fantastic, wonderful, kind, brilliant, smart, strong, capable person and he’ll get over himself and everything will be good!"

Damian collapses down onto the couch, the wind knocked out of him. This is… He had not expected anything like this at all. For all that Ellie talked about her family, she had never mentioned this.

“Did you… did you say your brother is a king?”

“Yeah! High King Phantom, have I…” The manic grin slips off her face as she turns round and notices Damian. “Have I not mentioned that before?”

“No. No, you have not.”

“Ah. Sorry. Probably should clarify that I’m also a princess.”

“Right. Yes, that follows.”

“And I’m not really his sister, I’m his clone.”

“What?”

Damian blinks and tries to say more, but he has no idea what he’s meant to do with… any of this information. 

Normal. He thought she was meant to be his normal. Nothing could have prepared him for this.

Not that it changed anything, of course, of that he was certain. It’s just… a lot to take in. Overwhelming. But it's okay! He takes a deep breath, and another, and a sense of calm washes over him. Ellie makes one of her little hums as she cocks her head to the side to consider him and he can't help but relax at the normalcy of the sound. It'll be okay, he's dealt with stranger and he can deal with this.

“I’ve, uh… I’ve told you that we’re half ghosts, though, right?”

“What?”

[fatedroses]

He can't have shit in this family.