#i figured why the hell not. it's not a super polished piece so it's fine to make into a shitpost

[paintpanic]

i (and this is no joke) love it when you make a really emotional and sad piece and then just put "he's swagless" over it. it gets a chuckle out of me every time.

It's what he deserves methinks.

Godawful Taranza under the cut.

This is my son. He has every disease.

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

some thoughts on what living with bakugou would be like:

-he’s weirdly organized. like he remembers where he put everything every time so if ur ever looking for something, most times he’ll just find it for u and it takes like .2 seconds

-will cook meals a large majority of the time, but if u bake sweets he’s an absolue sucker for them.

-if you’re like reALLY allergic to a certain type of bug or plant,, man’s got his eyes pEELED whenever y’all go somewhere together. like lets say, for example, ur allergic to bees. bakugou is blowing bees up left and right and u look at him and ur “no!! stop!!! bees are endangered!!” ,, he looks u dead in the face, like ur stupid or something and says “yeah. because of me. i’m gonna kill all of them.”

- if u have to get in an argument with somebody over the phone, he wants to hear it. like he’ll ask u to put the phone on speaker and he’ll just make mocking, bitchy faces while the other person is speaking. like,, he lets u fight ur own battles, but he wants to be there bullying the other person mercilessly in the background.

-if he doesnt like a song ur playing, he’ll just skip it. won’t ask, wont look at u, he’ll just skip it. borderline dick move tbh

-gets grumpy if u don’t follow his nightly routine on time, but also wont go to sleep without u. like he’ll just stay up and crab at u until u go to bed with him

-likes when u brush his hair for him. like u’ll be brushing yours, totally by urself fine, and he’ll just look at u and clear his throat until u roll ur eyes and beckon him over

-if u get like a bag of junk food or something,, do nOt leave that shit out, bakugou will finish it 10/10 times. he’ll finish it but then look at u and “why the fuck would u even bring that shit in here, huh? u tryin’ to get me out of shape or somethin?” ,, and u look at him like “idk man maybe just dont eat it then.” ,,, the glARE he gives u in response is muRDEROUS //pls this is quite literally the only area he lacks self control dont remind him\\

-has absolutely no regard for neighbors. he yells a lot and if y’all get noise complaints he just glares and 😡💥at the neighbor until they get scared and leave

-he thinks it’s funny to just subtly move things from time to time. like, for example, lets say plates. ,,, so like, u always keep plates on the left side of a certain cabinet, right?? but if he’s putting dishes away and feeling particularly petulant that day, he’ll just put away the plates on the right side instead. man’s then proceeds to smirk and laugh at u every time u open the wrong side of the cabinent from then on with a “jeez, u rlly are a moron, huh? they’re on the right side, remember?” god he’s annoying

-genuinely enjoys going grocery shopping by himself. like idk he just thinks it’s his quiet, personal time, u kno?? and he enjoys doing super-intense meal prep for the week anyways so he’s gotta make sure he gets the right ingredients

-u just hear muffled screaming from time to time. like u’ll be in the kitchen eating breakfast totally calm, and he’s making the bed and all the sudden just a “jesus fucking christ, swear to fuck im gonna blow up this stupid fuckin’ fitted sheet!” (which honestly??? valid. fuck fitted sheets.)

-if he doesn’t want to hang out with the bakusquad but they’re forcing him he’ll text u something like “I love you.” and then ofc ur like “i love u too. but also, u never just say that to me normally?? is something wrong?” and then total radio silence from him for like 20 mins and u get super worried,, and then he just sends u a video of mina or denki being loud with a “Can you get sick or something? I want to come home.” ,, i- 🧍

- isnt going to want a pet,, but if u have, like, a dog already when u move in with him, then it’s going to become bakugou’s dog. if he’s going to have to have a dog than he’s gonna make sure it likes him more than u

-hates doing laundry. will volunteer to do dishes instead 11/10 times

-he doesn’t sing in the shower but 100% plays the drums on the walls or his own stomach fight me on this

-he hates the smell of nail polish/nail polish remover. so if ur painting ur nails he’ll just walk in the room and walk directly out,, quickest way to get alone time

-speaking of alone time- say bye. u’ll get none of it,,, it’s not that he’s constantly on top of u or like talking to u, he just always sorta ends up in whatever room u are. like a cat, pretty much. like he won’t say anything, but if u get up to do something, he gets up and chooses to move his lounging to somewhere nearby

-he likes to scare the shit out of u. just like, rlly juvenile stuff like hiding around corners just to jump out at u. will just stand there and laugh when u scream, and will never, never apologize

-he gets weirdly worked up about hair?? just hates it, thinks it’s disgusting if he sees a stray hair anywhere. even if its his own. like yes it’s gross ig, but he gets so 🤮 about it

-he does house chores unecessarily loudly. like, u watch him and it seems like he’s doing everything totally normally,, but jesus christ why is it so loud

-gets bitchy around christmas if u decorate without him. he will complain the eNTIRE time if he does have to decorate, but will throw an even bigger fit if u dare to do it without him

-he gets mad if people drive too fast in ur neighborhood/ past ur apartment complex. like, y’all have 0 (zero!) kids, but he’s still up at the window like “Slow the fuck down, asshole! Why the hell doesn’t anyone have any common fuckin’ sense around here? That’s dangerous, you piece of shit!”

-if u sing around the house a lot, it’s the only habit of urs he’ll have absolutely nothing to say about. like it doesn’t even matter if ur a good singer or not, he just likes when he can hear u in the house even if ur not in the same room. he finds it comforting

-bakugou hates having people over to ur place. he thinks of it like his calm-space/safe-haven and it rlly pisses him off when people are there

-on the rare days he doesn’t have to work at all and stays home, mans is a total baby. he just refuses to get up for anything other than bathroom or meals and even then goes straight back to bed. he takes basically a 24 hr nap and expects u to do the same with him he’s so dramatic pls

-will make snarky comments about reality tv shows with u. just the bitchiest shit possible bc he enjoys trash talking as an art form, and absolutely does not care who it’s about

-likes to watch u do skincare stuff. he won’t ask questions and will be borderline offended if u offer some to him, but he just likes to watch u do it. man’s thinks of it as like his personal asmr

-hates online shopping. (pls i have absolutely no explanation for this one i just know its true)

-he has a lot of pride in his house so it’s actually rlly well decorated. like, he would never consent to living somewhere busted, lmaooo, so if u dont kno how to decorate he’ll figure it out for the both of u

-u can always tell if he’s falling asleep bc he constantly does that weird full-body jerk. like the one where it feels like ur falling

[asset35-maya]

CALYPSO 🐚 ☕️

Part 1 & Part 2

Part 3/3:

Nines froze as the human’s body melded to his. Gavin kept his eyes shut and his lips moving. Then what he’d been bracing for finally came.

Pain.

Sweet glorious pain, blossoming everywhere Nines gripped his body. Gavin was sure that his lips would bruise under the pressure of the reciprocal kiss… that his rib cage would shatter if Nines held him any tighter… that his lungs would burst if they didn’t fill with air soon…

A wolf-whistle broke through the stunned silence in the yard.

Gavin pulled back, light-headed from the rush of oxygen and drain of adrenaline. He didn’t fall though. Didn’t even move an inch. Strong arms and a heated gaze kept him pinned.

//

\\

“Of all the things in the world… why coffee?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Gavin tucked his head into the crook of Nines’ neck, cuddling closer.

“Hmm… I think weird working hours made me actually need the caffeine… but the bean snobbery just came with the rest of my superiority complexes.”

Nines laughed. It was more of an exhale than an actual laugh, but Gavin was thankful for it nonetheless.

“And you?”

Nines kissed his forehead, prolonging his answer as much as he could before finally relenting with a sigh.

“The reason you’re asking… is because running a café is just about the last thing you’d expect an android like me to be doing. And… that’s your answer. That’s exactly why I wanted it.”

“To subvert expectations…?”

“To not be the terrible thing I was meant to be.”

Gavin’s breath hitched at the depth of emotion in Nines’ voice. He didn’t dare look up to meet his eye and settled for pressing his lips to the razor-sharp jawline.

“I dunno what kinda code runs through you, but believe me when I say you don’t have it in you to be… terrible.”

Nines scoffed at that.

“How can you say that after all the shit you’ve seen me do.”

“I can say that after all the shit I’ve seen others do. Fifteen years on the job, remember? I can vouch that righteous anger is one of the least terrible things out there.”

When Nines didn’t respond, Gavin decided to move the ship out of uncharted waters. He propped himself up on an elbow and ran a hand down the android’s smooth chest.

“In fact, I think it’s downright sexy.”

That did the trick. Nines pressed Gavin into the mattress with a low growl and rolled over him, clamping his mouth over his throat. Their hips aligned and the conversation ended.

//

\\

“Ralph tried hard but the machine is not working. Ralph is stuck.”

“Move. Let me see.”

Gavin took the filter holder and disconnected it from the espresso machine with a firm tug. He leapt away in shock as water came rushing out. That was absolutely not supposed to happen.

“Er… I’ll get a mechanic friend to take a look later. Why don’t you go check on inventory?”

Ralph shuffled away with a thoroughly sceptical look in his eye. Gavin sighed openly once the android was out of earshot.

The café was in shambles.

The vandals may have gotten as good as they gave… but they’d left their mark. Even with insurance, there was no way such a new establishment could financially recover from a setback like that.

Nines said nothing but seethed with his usual brand of silent, impotent rage.

Unable to bear the slammed car doors and dismissive grunts any longer, Gavin had taken a solo day off to come down to the Calypso and see what could be done.

Not much, without a boatload of money, it seemed.

He sat down with a sigh and Ralph brought over a cup of coffee. Black. A pour-over. He set a bowl of runny eggs and a small basket of bread down on the table too.

Gavin looked up in surprise. Ralph shrugged.

“Nines is telling Ralph that you left without breakfast. Ralph’s equipment is all broken so Ralph just made something simple.”

Touched beyond words, Gavin motioned for Ralph to sit down with him instead of scurrying off into the shadows as per his usual habit.

He took a sip of the hand-poured drip coffee and broke a piece of the bread, dragging it through the eggs, European style. It was utterly homely and reminded of him of some bygone era that he’d needlessly bypassed. He looked up and met Ralph’s mildly unsettling stare.

“So… why the name Calypso? There’s nothing beach-themed or Caribbean about the place.”

“Nines chose it. After the Greek goddess.”

“Huh. And she was the goddess of coffee? Did they even have coffee back in those Hercules Orgy Olympics days?”

“She is a sea nymph. She detained the mythic hero Odysseus on her island for seven years.”

Gavin’s brows furrowed as he swallowed a mouthful of fresh bread.

“Did you bake this?”

“Yes. Ralph is baking daily. Ralph does it first thing in the morning at five. It is very calming to knead the dough and hear the birdsong.”

“It’s phcking delicious. Leavened perfectly. Now back to the name. This goddess nymph creature. She doesn’t sound very nice. She trapped this hero dude, right? Reminds me of my ex. Why name this pretty café after her?”

“Ralph can only imagine that Nines’ fascination with Calypso is the ambiguity of her nature. She can seduce and manipulate, but she can also heal. She is neither good nor evil.”

Gavin drained his coffee and sank back in his chair contemplatively.

“What do you think she is, Ralph?”

Ralph’s LED flickered and his eyes dipped to the table. He knew what Gavin was asking.

“Calypso is immortal. Calypso cannot help but fall in love with every sailor who lands on her shores. Calypso dreams of an eternal husband but lets Odysseus go when it’s clear he wishes to return to his wife. Well, maybe only when the Gods commands her to… but she releases him without harm!”

Gavin waited. Ralph’s head snapped up and he spoke in a short burst.

“Calypso is mythical. It does not matter what she is. Nines is real. Nines is good. Very good. Honest and honourable! Ralph will do anything for Nines!”

Gavin leaned back in his chair with the satisfied smile of an experienced police negotiator who’d gotten exactly where he wanted to.

//

\\

“What the hell is this? Where did you get so much money from?”

Nines’ amber LED cycled furiously as he took in the sight of the restored café. Ralph was humming to himself as he proudly polished the knobs of their repaired espresso machine.

Gavin led Nines by the hand to look at the repainted walls… the new furniture… the new crockery replacing what had been smashed…

“How…?”

“Oh I just embodied my inner Gen Z and tapped into the power of social justice.”

Nines looked thoroughly nonplussed.

“Crowdfunding, baby. I set up a link and Ralph told everyone on Twitter what happened to him and the café. Well, showed them, more like.”

Nines looked up at the ceiling and his LED slowly returned to a calm blue as he understood… but when he looked back down, his expression wasn’t any less troubled.

“Okay I just saw it. Edited footage from his optical units and a tearful testimonial. Ethically questionable, but clever.”

“Super effective. We overshot our target by a couple hundred bucks.”

“Hmm. People are kind.”

“Yes. They’ve actually done more for you. Look. Connor gave me this earlier today.”

Gavin reached into his jacket and produced an envelope. Nines’ eyes widened as he spotted the official seals of the Mayor’s office, the Manfred Estate and New Jericho.

“Someone started a petition… to let you back behind the helm of the Calypso. It really took off. I don’t know how you didn’t hear-”

“I muted any mentions of myself and the other RKs from showing up in my newsfeed.”

“Then this makes for a good surprise.”

Gavin gently pushed the envelope into the android’s hands and watched him open it with a precise fingernail flicked under the wax. He scanned the contents of the letter in a split second and let it fall through his fingers.

Without warning, he scooped Gavin up and set him down on a polished table for a deep kiss of even deeper gratitude. Ralph turned his back on them with a bashful giggle.

//

\\

“Baby.”

Nines didn’t respond.

“Hey baby?”

“Hmm...”

There was an intensity to the grumble that had Gavin second-guessing whether to persist. Being Nines’ lover didn’t exempt him from the consequences of asking stupid questions.

“Your thoughts are fucking loud. Just say whatever you want to.”

“Oh. Um… I was actually wondering… I mean, you don’t have to tell me… but like why… um…”

“Why haven’t I turned my badge in yet?”

“Yeah…”

Nines turned on his side and brushed the back of his hand over Gavin’s cheek. The intimate gesture sent a thrill through the human despite how much more intimate they’d just been in the recent past.

“Because I haven’t decided what to do next.”

Gavin’s brows knitted together.

“What do you mean? Aren’t you going to take back your business?”

Nines’ wan smile told him all he needed to know.

“Why?”

“It’s doing really well in Ralph’s hands. He’s capable. He’s creative. And I don’t think it’s fair for me to go back and get in his way all of a sudden.”

“He needs you.”

“He absolutely doesn’t. It’s his café. You helped him get back on his feet and he’s going to be fiiiiine without me.”

“Is it because you don’t wanna be her anymore?”

Nines scrunched his nose up in confusion.

“Who?”

“Calypso. The siren who trapped the Oddball.”

That earned Gavin a heartfelt laugh.

“Odysseus, Gavin.”

“Yeah. You were like Calypso and now you’re letting go of the coffeeshop because you figured it wasn’t meant to be!”

Nines frowned and pretended to check the human for a temperature. Gavin swatted his hands away with mock petulance.

“Fine, I’m probably way off the mark. You tell me what the deal is then!”

Arms snaked around his waist and pulled him flush against the android’s defined chest. Lips brushed the shell of his ear and when Nines spoke next, it was in the huskiest of undertones.

“I’m Odysseus. Not Calypso.”

The realisation was painfully obvious in hindsight.

“I’m the one who’s stuck on an endless journey home. I’ve faced a hundred artificial trials and tribulations. I’ve been a puppet at the hands of false gods. I answer existential questions to prove my self-worth every single day.”

Nines paused to gauge Gavin’s reaction. When he received none, he pressed a brief kiss to the human’s bare shoulder before continuing.

“It’s been a long journey. But not a pointless one. Every metaphorical island I’ve visited has granted me something. From literally running into Ralph in an old building… to defending our turf from other stray androids… getting ourselves off the street… setting up a café from scratch… being arrested on opening day… ending up on the police force with you…”

Gavin recognised that as his cue to squirm around in Nines’ arms and peck him on the lips.

“So who’s Cyclops?”

“What?”

“The story’s starting to come back to me now. Your boy Oddy fought a one-eyed monster on one of the islands he went to. Who’s the Cyclops in your story?”

Nines huffed another breathy laugh.

“Markus, probably. Connor is definitely Helios.”

“Who’s your wife?”

“Definitely not you.”

Gavin elbowed him in the ribs. An action that had more repercussions on him than Nines.

“So which island are you off to next?”

“I have no idea. But it doesn’t matter. I might already be home.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Did You Know?

Prompt: the merlin fic you wrote with a crying arthur who didn't realize he had a hand in normalizing merlin to physical pain/punishment is HEARTBREAKING and i couldn't help but think while reading it that merlin may have just assumed that the knights and arthur //knew// visting knights were handsy w him and just didnt care, like he just thought it was normal and they would expect nothing less. anyway if u wanna write something that has that kind of idea/vibe i'd be delighted to read it! love u <3

Ahh yes more h/c here we go

Read on Ao3 Part 2

Warnings: visiting nobles and knights are dicks. implied/referenced rape/non-con and abuse NOTHING EXPLICIT

Pairings: merthur, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 3031

 Merlin is…confused.

 He’s doing his job as a servant—not that he’s begrudging his position that much, destiny is destiny, after all—and putting up with all the things that servants are supposed to put up with.

The learning curve was very steep, don’t get him wrong. Coming from Ealdor, where the only authority figure he absolutely had to listen to was his mum, and straight into Camelot’s complex authority structure with rules and consequences and all the messy trappings of those horrid make-believes he and Will used to do when they were little boys. Hell, he ended his first full day in Camelot arrested, relying only on Gaius’s social powers in court to get him released. He’s not exactly a beacon of well-mannerisms.

 So if it took him a while to get used to the type of work Arthur was going to have him do, that’s fine! He’s never had to put armor on anyone before, let alone the Crown Prince, who expected him to do all that and then some. He’s never known how to clean shiny pieces of metal that just serve to attract more attention than they’re worth, they never had shiny pieces of metal other than coin. And he’s certainly never known how to dodge swords being swung at his head. Never.

 It wasn’t expected—no, it wasn’t, you prat—for him to be able to shrug on all these new responsibilities, even if he had been trained as a servant, because he’s never done them before. Thank the gods for Gwen, honestly, who was more than happy to make sure he at least knew how to hold a sword without cutting himself.

 “Here’s the next one,” she’d called, handing him the next training sword from the batch, “now, try again.”

 “This is the rag, this is the polish, and we just—ow!”

 “Try not to polish the edge of the blade, Merlin.”

 “I knew that,” he had muttered sheepishly, rubbing the cloth over the flat of the blade this time, “but thank you.”

 Gwen had rolled her eyes fondly. “Just keep trying, you’re doing great.”

 So he had just…done his best to learn what to do. Which would’ve been easier had he also not been learning how to act.

 ‘Yes, sire.’

 ‘No, sire.’

 ‘As you wish, sire.’

 ‘Sire’ this and ‘sire’ that and bloody hell, why is he not allowed to say anyone’s bloody name?

 Formalities have never really been Merlin’s strong suit, not that he’s ever really needed them. And now that he has to use them, he’s starting to regret not paying attention to his mum’s scoldings. Just a little bit. Not that much. It’s not entirely his fault, is it, that those lectures were so boring and there were things he could’ve been doing.

 But here…

 Here, if he doesn’t address someone the right way, he gets cuffed around the head. The first time it happened, his hand flew to his head in shock. It wasn’t a particularly hard slap—he’s had worse walking into the door by himself—but the fact that someone was allowed to hit him, was expected to hit him, and it was his own fault was…jarring.

 He learns his lesson about trying to hit back much quicker.

 He still slips up from time to time, even now, after so many years, but his reflexes have gotten a lot better. Goblets, combs, hunks of bread, boots, staffs, just about every object he can think of, he’s had thrown at his head. With Arthur, it’s fine, he can snipe back perfectly well on his own, and it’s not like he’s going anywhere. He just bites back enough to make it a little more bearable. And besides, Arthur hasn’t ever seriously hurt him, maybe because he’s always lauding about how strong he is and how weak Merlin. Doesn’t want to break him.

 And he can get away with it with some of the knights. The close ones, sure. Leon—well, he doesn’t try that much shite with Leon. Leon’s terrifying, not just because he’s one of the oldest knights and the longest-serving of Arthur’s inner circle, but because he knows things. Leon’s perception scares the hell out of Merlin, not in the least because he’s got so much to hide.

 Does he ever think Leon would seriously hurt him? No, but he might tell people who would.

 Percival is a big man. His arms are about the size of Merlin’s skull. He doesn’t want to get near that man’s bad side, even if he hasn’t found it yet.

 Elyan is sneaky. He’s got just enough say to be dangerous, not enough to be an obvious suspect. And he’s got Gwen on his side—or more specifically, Gwen’s got him on her side. Gwen would never hurt him, he knows, he trusts her too much.

 Lancelot is the only one he’s not afraid of, him and Gwaine. Mainly because he knows that they know.

 …look, you do what Merlin’s been doing for as long as he’s been doing it, you slip up. It happens.

 But Lancelot never looked at him differently. Never raised a hand to him to hurt him, always touched him gently, spoke softly, sparred with him in good faith. Even when he swings a spear at him in jest, it’s never too fast to actually bruise him if it connects.

 Gwaine slaps him on the shoulder, claps him on the back, hard enough to bruise sometimes, but he cares. He hides it well—well, sort of—and looks out for Merlin when Lancelot can’t. But he knows Gwaine has a breaking point, and he’s not super keen on looking for it.

 He can get away with it. A little. Not a lot.

 But only with them.

 With the other knights…

 One of the hardest things he had to learn was that no one cared.

 When a knight smacks him over the head with the flat of a dulled blade, it doesn’t matter that the sight of a blade swinging at his freezes terror in his throat, nor that the ring of the blade won’t go away for three hours. The others will just laugh and tell him to move his arse.

 When a knight knocks the equipment out of his hands and snarls at him to get moving, it doesn’t matter that it’s often accompanied by a boot to his ribs. He’ll always get elbowed in the exact same place later and they won’t care about his wince.

 When a knight decides that he’s had enough of Merlin just looking at him, he—

 The other thing that Merlin’s had to learn very, very quickly, is that it’s better him than the other servants.

 He has Gaius. Gaius will patch him up, no questions asked. And when he can’t go to Gaius, it’s not like he’ll be caught lurking suspiciously in his own quarters. And when he can’t do that, he has his magic.

 None of the others do.

 So he learns. He picks up the things he needs to know, puts his head down, and bears it.

 That’s what servants are supposed to do.

 So you can imagine that when the others look absolutely horrified as he explains to them that he knows how this works, he’s learned, he’s confused.

 “Come on, guys, it’s not like the other servants don’t know this.”

 “It’s funny,” Gwaine growls, his fist tightening on the table, “how you think that makes this any better.”

 Merlin rolls his eyes. “I’m not a gossip, Gwaine—“

 “That,” Elyan says, “is not true.”

 “—okay fine, I enjoy a bit of the servant’s gossip as well as anyone, but not about this!” He shakes his head. “It’s fine, they know about it, it’s not like anyone cares.”

 “See, Merlin,” Lancelot says quietly, “that’s where you’re wrong.”

 Merlin frowns. What are they talking about? Who’s noticed? Is he doing it wrong? What does he need to fix?

 See, his confusion only grows when he voices those concerns and the knights only seem to grow more upset.

 “I can’t believe this,” Gwaine mutters, turning away, “how long has this been happening, Merlin?”

 “Which part?”

 Gwaine is doing a remarkable impersonation of someone who is extremely constipated. “…all of it.”

 “I mean, it began as soon as I set foot in Camelot, if you want to go from the very beginning.”

 Leon swallows. “And if we asked for you to be…more specific?”

 Merlin huffs, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so concerned about this? It’s nothing to worry about!”

 “You’re being abused, Merlin,” Arthur—since when has Arthur been this quiet?—says finally, looking at Merlin the same way he looked at Morgana when Uther strangled her against the back of the throne—see? It’s just something that happens here— “that’s definitely something to worry about.”

 Merlin scoffs. “I’m not being abused, I’m just being treated like a servant.”

 “If that’s what you think being treated like a servant means,” Gwaine says, standing, “then this conversation is going to take a lot longer than we thought.”

 In response, Percival moves to stand in front of the door. Merlin sighs.

 “You don’t have to block the exit, Percival, I know I’m not allowed to leave.”

 A choked-off sound comes from Merlin’s left, followed by a muffled curse. Percival shakes his head.

 “I’m over here to make sure no one else comes in to hurt you,” the knight says calmly, “not to make sure you don’t leave.”

 “But if you want to,” Elyan says quickly, “you can.”

 “No, no, I know a trap when I see one, no thank you.”

 “It’s not a trap, Merlin,” Lancelot says, even as he looks to be about two seconds from crying for some reason, “if you truly wish to leave, you can. We won’t stop you.”

 Merlin raises an eyebrow. “…sure.”

 Arthur lowers his head. Merlin frowns, watching his shoulders tense.

 “Are you alright?”

 He gets his answer in the form of many unshed tears welling up in Arthur’s eyes as he raises his head.

 “No, Merlin,” he says in a remarkably steady voice, “I’m not. But don’t worry about me.”

 “That’s my job,” Merlin insists, striding forward, “let me help.”

 Arthur catches him gently—gently?—gently by the elbows as he reaches for him, smiling sadly.

 “Can I give you another way to help me?”

 Merlin swallows heavily. “…what does it entail, exactly?”

 “For starters, explaining why that question has you shaking in your boots.”

 “I’m not—“ Merlin looks down to see Arthur’s hands are just about the only thing holding him up— “oh.”

 “Sit,” Leon encourages, bringing a chair over and crouching in front of it. Around him, the knights lower themselves to the ground, with the exception of Percival, still by the door.

 “Merlin,” Leon calls again, “can I ask you some questions? If you don’t want to answer any of them, that’s alright, but may I ask?”

 Merlin blinks. “Sure?”

 He gets a nod of thanks. “What do you understand your duties as a servant to be?”

 “To help with the running of the castle and take care of Arthur’s needs.”

 “Which are?”

 “What—“

 “Please,” Arthur says softly, “please, Merlin, I know it sounds silly, but…please?”

 Well, he’s never been very good at saying no to upset Arthur. He sighs.

 “Keeping his chambers clean, keeping track of his laundry, dressing him in the mornings, polishing his armor, bringing him food, escorting him to court affairs, and any other odd jobs he asks me to do.”

 Leon nods. “And what about the knights? Do you have duties with us, too?”

 “I’m supposed to help you train and see to your immediate needs with those, too.”

 “Such as?”

 “Equipment, water, food, chambers—“

 “Chambers?” Lancelot frowns. “Why would you need to see to our chambers?”

 “Not yours, but the visiting knights.” Merlin frowns as Arthur’s hand twitches on his elbow. “What?”

 “Do they presume that you are their servant,” Leon asks in a low voice, “when you do so?”

 “I am, aren’t I?” He looks to Arthur. “You assign me to them.”

 “No, Merlin,” Arthur corrects gently, still looking like he’s about two seconds from crying and still taking Merlin by surprise at how soft he’s being, “I ask you to get them settled, that’s all.”

 Merlin blinks. “Oh. Uh…”

 “What do they ask you to do,” Leon asks, “as their servant?”

 He furrows his brow, trying to remember. “Uh, change their sheets, see to their armor, start a fire, bring them dinner…”

 Leon raises an eyebrow when he trails off. “Anything else?”

 “They, um—“

 Hands. Hands on his skin. Voices in his ear.

 “Merlin.” Arthur gives him a shake. “Merlin.”

 “Sorry,” he says instantly, “I just…”

 He trails off again when he sees the absolutely heartbroken look on Arthur’s face.

 “…Arthur?”

 “Why,” Arthur whispers, “why do you let them…do that?”

 Merlin frowns. “It’s fine.”

 “It’s most certainly not fine.”

 “It is,” Merlin argues, “it’s what servants are supposed to do, anyway, and it’s better me than the others.”

 Gwaine muffles a curse again, and to his surprise, so does Lancelot.

 “Merlin,” Leon says, calling his attention with how hoarse he sounds, “Merlin, why is it better you than the others if there’s nothing wrong with what’s happening to you?”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 Oh, no.

 Merlin’s hands start to shake.

 Something in his throat wells up and pushes against his jaw. It hurts. The bruises on his back start to smart.

 “Why do you care,” he says instead, “why now?”

 “We didn’t know,” Leon whispers, sounding every bit the man confessing his worst sin, “and we are so, so sorry that we didn’t.”

 “And if you’re asking why we care,” Lancelot says, equally heartfelt, “then we are more sorry than you could ever know.”

 Merlin frowns. “But you lot do it too.”

 The room freezes.

 Arthur yanks his hands away from Merlin like he’s been burned. Leon stifles a noise of his own as Elyan’s mouth drops open.

 “What,” Gwaine manages after a few moments, “the fuck does that mean?”

 “You—you hit me, you order me around, you—“ Merlin swings his head back and forth, looking at their shell-shocked faces— “why are you all looking at me like that?”

 “Because you’ve just told us we’ve been abusing you since the moment you set foot in Camelot, Merlin,” Arthur whispers, tears finally starting to roll down his cheeks.

 “But you knew!” Merlin’s hands fly to his hair as he cries out. “You knew this was happening, you could see it happening and you didn’t care!”

 “I’m sorry, Merlin—“

 “If we knew it was like this—“

 “If you think we’d ever hurt you like that—“

 “No, gods no, Merlin—“

 “Of course we care—“

 “Merlin,” Arthur whispers, holding out a shaking hand, “Merlin, please, please believe us that we would never be okay with you being mistreated like that. Like this.”

 And godsdamnit all, the amount of sheer heartbreak in the room is enough to coax a lump into Merlin’s throat and spring tears down his cheeks. Arthur lets out a wounded noise as he sees them, reaching forward to gently, still gently, wipe them away. The naked concern on not just his face, but the others’ faces as well, only encourages more.

 “I’m so sorry, Merlin,” he keeps saying, “I’m so, so, sorry.”

 “Arthur, I—“ He’s cut off by a gasping sob— “Arthur—“

 “Shh, shh, shh,” Arthur hushes frantically, cupping Merlin’s face in both hands, “shh, shh, Merlin, it’s alright, no one’s ever going to hurt you again, I swear it—“

 “You’re damn right,” he hears Gwaine mutter as the other knights agree.

 “—and I’m so sorry that you thought I’d be okay with it, that I was helping—“ Arthur’s voice cracks— “no, no, you’re—you’re my Merlin—I never want to see you hurt like that—I never mean to hurt you—“

 “I know,” Merlin murmurs, “I—I know you don’t.”

 Arthur, gentle Arthur, pulls him into the softest hug he’s ever had, cradling him like he’s something precious, something fragile, something to be savored and oh, oh, gods—

 “Easy,” he hears Leon soothe, “easy does it now, come sit—come sit with us.”

 He can’t quite manage to pry himself out of Arthur’s grip as he feels the knights come closer, huddling around the two of them in a protective circle. He even hears Percival’s heavy steps coming closer, a silent guardian, keeping watch.

 “I don’t—“ he gasps— “I don’t understand.”

 “We’ll help you,” Arthur promises in his ear, “we’ll help you figure it out.”

 “But if anyone ever,” Gwaine growls, “and I mean ever does anything like that to you again, you tell us.”

 Merlin nods frantically. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you.”

 “Thank you, Merlin,” Leon murmurs, “may I…?”

 Merlin nods and Leon’s hand cards tenderly through his hair.

 “Oh, Merlin,” he mumbles, almost to himself, “you came into our lives blustering about how servants were people too…and we never noticed this?”

 The knight shudders and steels himself.

 “We will do better.” He gives Merlin’s head one last pat. “We all will.”

 “I can—“ Merlin swallows— “I can…ask for help?”

 “Yes, Merlin,” Arthur promises instantly, “you can ask me for help, and if you think I’m letting another one of those knights near you ever again—“

 Oh. Oh, wow.

 The wave of protective fury that hits Merlin’s chest is—

 Wow.

 He’s still confused. Confused and more than a little scared.

 But as he curls up in Arthur’s arms, held and kept with Camelot’s strongest knights curled around him too, protecting him, shielding him, he thinks he may finally start to feel safe.

[meruz]

Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for? 

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha. 

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at isellhotdogs@gmail.com.

<33333333333333333333333333

[murdertrialimagines]

Fuyuhiko x Marks-woman! Reader (Soulmate Pain AU!)

“Soulmate AU where you can feel the same pain as your soulmate with Fuyuhiko and a fem!Ultimate Markswoman (who’s super bubbly and chipper but can kill a man in seconds)?”

I LIVE for soulmate AU’s, not gonna lie...story under the tag!~

��You had been at Hopes Peak for only a year now, practicing your talent everyday despite everyone saying you were already top notch

Yet you trained for two reasons: to keep yourself sharp and to make sure you never got hurt in a real fight

 Why? You didn’t want to bring pain to your soulmate, not after the time you were shot in the leg by some idiot fooling with your guns

 Everyone had a soulmate, and they could feel each other’s physical pains as if they were their own

 Sucks yours got stuck with a clumsy marks-woman

 You never had to worry much though, as no one dared to challenge you

 Well, some did, but they would end up with a bulletin grazing their face as a warning

 And sometimes worse, if they were acting cocky

But today was exam day, and all fighters or weapon users would be sparring, no matter what their fighting style was

 “To mix it up a bit!” Said the proctors with a cheery smile

So here you stood, twin revolvers in both hands, looking at your opponent readying her stance

 “Uh, sir?” You turned to the guy supervising the fight. “Is this really a good idea? I mean these are guns, if I land a serious shot she could get really hurt.”

 “Don’t worry, we have the best nurse here on supervision.” He pointed to the nervous wreck in the corner

 A small chuckle came from your opponent.

“Bold of you to assume you’ll even get close.” She lifted her glasses ever so slightly on her nose, causing them to reflect off your steel weapons

 “Oh it’s on.”

With a go from the main proctor, both of you charged, her jumping up to swing her bamboo sword down at you

 You swiftly dodged, raising your right hand to fire a gun in her direction

 ‘If I can just break her sword, she’ll be forced into hand to hand combat; I’ll take her down then’ you thought, trying to calculate her moves

 She surprised you though, faking a slash to catch your feet from under you, knocking you down

 “You go Peko!” You heard someone in the audience yell

“No shouting during the match!” The proctor yelled

 You rolled over to dodge another blow, this time firing two shots in her direction, one barely grazing her glasses

 “Yknow, if you stay still, I’ll be less likely to kill you” you smirked

 She remained focused as she resumed her starting stance, then running at you again

You took a step back to prepare yourself, but your foot caught your other leg, causing you to stumble and fall, pain shooting up your leg

 “Ow!”

 “Fuck!”

 Sitting up, you looked at your ankle, already turning purple

 The nurse immediately ran up to you, in tears for an unknown reason

 As she wrapped your leg up you hissed in pain, her apologizing and crying harder at the sound

 After she had bandaged it completely, she pulled you up, letting you lean on her to keep weight off your injured leg

As you left, the proctor announced that your exam will proceed once you are healed, as you technically weren’t beaten by your opponent, apparently named Peko

 You looked to the stands as you left, ashamed to have them see you defeated by something so stupid

 As you left, you’re eyes caught momentarily onto a boy holding his ankle, staring at you

 You had to sit in the nurses office as they prepped a brace to your measurements, leaving you time to polish your guns with some rags you found

You ignored the door swinging open, only looking up when the person standing there gave an obviously fake cough

“Hm?” You looked up, noticing it was the boy from earlier. “Oh, sorry! I thought you were that kid that kept coming in here talking about how my injury was a step towards greatness. I don’t even know him...”

He gave a small, halfhearted smile, coming closer to you.

 “Are you okay?” You set down your gun, shifting slightly on the medical bed you sat on. “You’re limping.”

 “I’m fine,” he sat in a nearby chair. “I was wondering if you were fine”

 “Yeah, I mean, besides having to redo my exams, I think I’m doing pretty good for someone with a sprained ankle!” You gave a small laugh

 “Yeah...”

Noticing the awkward silence, you’re smile drooped a bit, turning from a genuine one to one of unease

 “So...”

 “Yea?” You moved a piece of hair from your face

 “I hurt my leg today” “What a coincidence, how did you do it?”

 “I don’t know. I was watching you when it happened. At your exam” “oh, I’m sorry! Has the nurse checked it out?”

 You looked up at him to see him staring at you deadpan.

 “Oh. OH!”

 You jumped slightly, careful not to hassle your ankle, and turned to face him more

“You...think you’re my soulmate?”

 “Well, yeah. But how would we know for sure?”

 You sat for a moment, before slapping yourself across the face

 “Ouch!”

 “Ow! Why did you do that?!” The boy said, holding his cheek, before his eyes widened slightly. “Wait. So that means...”

“We’re soulmates?!” You two said in unison

 “This is crazy!” You said, looking at yourself as if you were dreaming. “I can’t believe it! I doubted I’d ever find mine, let alone in my own school! What’s your name?”

 “Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu, ultimate Yakuza. I already know you’re y/n f/n, the ultimate marks-woman.”

 “How?”

 “Master, are you alright?” A head peaked into the door after a warning knock

 “Peko?” You asked, recognizing her

 “I’m fine Peko, just...figuring things out.”

 “Ah, I see that Kazuichi was right after all. You two are soulmates. He’ll be happy to know that”

 “Don’t tell him, he won’t shut up for weeks”

 “Who’s Kazuichi?”

 “The idiot who made me come down here in the first place” Fuyuhiko walked over to the bed and sat beside you

 “Well, I better thank him then!” You nudged Fuyuhiko, earning a small grumble

 “Normally I’d kill someone for that-“

 “Good thing I’m not just someone then”

 Peko gave a breathy laugh. “I’ll leave you two to get to know each other.” She closed the door behind her

Back to awkward silence

 “...ever shot a revolver before?”

 “No.”

“Wanna learn?”

“Hell yes.”

It’s four in the morning

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Tryst-Chapter 10

I did it! I finally edited this thing. Still not completely happy, but they are, so 🤷‍♀️s! If you enjoy let me know. I love a like, reblogs are love, and anons are lifeblood! 😘!!

Tam

Inglewood

There seems to be an equilibrium they have reached, Helene decided one balmy afternoon home alone of her tiny apartment patio. She pictured it like a piece of a Johnny Cash song, them walking the golden line in the middle of U.S. streets. If they were to veer either way the emotional equivalent of oncoming traffic would flatten them.

Though she supposed that line felt pretty roomy, like an estate broker's favorite word, spacious.

Maybe it's a tightrope, and any imbalance means they smash upon the hard, unforgiving ground.

Helene had convinced herself that this was her own conception, that her lover, her boss, her Harry, didn't feel it as well.

Until she heard the album.

She'd been at the Paris listening parties, so she'd heard snippets, and she'd been in the studio a time or two, so she had heard rough stones being polished to diamonds, chord progressions and roughed out lyrics and melodies. That was all up until this point.

Helene was offered a choice, the whole of staff was, to hear the album early or with everyone else.

She had declined. Because she had a very clear picture of what it was about, who it was about. It stung. Not because she was unaware of his sorrow, or how he missed her, the other French girl, the one worthy of homage, but because, she had been there too- with him too. Every step of the way and through Paris and Rome, and Japan and Australia too.

It hurt.

As much as her eyes were open, muscle memory of the drill, the words cemented on her brain to console herself. He was in an open relationship, Helene was not in that relationship, she was simply a reason for the unbolted window. Always making cameos, never the headliner.

So, the album, as great as she kept hearing it was, would be confirmation of her role, or lack thereof. She wasn't ready for that truth.

She'd better get ready. Helene would be hearing it soon no matter what, and seeing him. It had been a little bit since Cancun, but the show was going on, and she was involved, expected. It wouldn't do to cry over her lack of lyrical odes in front of the fans, they all knew her name and face, and she wasn't so good a liar they'd believe a disclaimer of happy tears.

Before the first show went on, her own show needed to get on the road. It was time for her to break a leg, or her heart as it were. Her set up was optimal for a breakdown.

Empty hotel room, qui Tissues on the toilet seat, qui Full hot bath, qui Goblet of red wine, tout a fait.

Helene was as ready for heartbreak, or it's residue if that's where she was now, as ready as one can be.

Her clothes are easy to quit, sweats and a TPWK tank exclusive to crew. The water is hot, her skin will redden to match her tear streaked face.

The level of melodrama she's reaching for this is impressive to even herself.

"Allons-y" she mutters and presses play.

And Clairemeant, she loves it. From first cord, she can imagine being in his stupid convertible driving to Shanghri la. Helene wishes he had played this when they went, a moment of California dreamin. She knows the next couple, as everyone does, in his world at least. Soon the whole world probably. They were radio besties, not just friendly.

It's the next few tracks where her preparations pay off. The tears come. For him, for her, and for Helene herself. The worst part isn't even her own pain; the waterworks are for Harry. She can hear his broken heart and bad decisions.

God, she hopes he does not count her among those.

But She, She is a new place to be. It's exactly what she would expect him to make and miles beyond expectation.

Then Sunflower, god, is it ridiculous to feel like there are glimmers of them? If kraft services counted as kitchens. It's the toothpaste. It's the fact that on their first go, they didn't know each other. Not really. She was his employee. She knew him, intimately, from all the watching, much less creepy than it sounds when it was her job. But she was somewhere between an insider and an outsider. Always an observer, never a participant was the lot of a photographer.

Except when Harry pulled her into the shenanigans, onto his lap, or some other harmless flirty gesture she couldn't forget.

Helene never lived in a canyon, though all of Paris seemed to rise around her some days. That one was nothing to do with her, and after a couple songs reprieve her heart seized all over again.

Helene loved that he'd made a song for his motto. It had all the silly he made cool. Even if he broke her heart sometimes, she loved how her kindness grew watching him cultivate and sow his own. The harvest was in the venues, and her heart.

After that happy high, she's not ready for the closer. Though she suspects she may never have been, no matter practice or preparation.

Fine Line throws her, thrills her, and makes her think.

Is it her? Is it them? Is it like most of the rest,  Camille?

Helene is aware she is simplifying. Music isn't exactly clear in its inspiration or intention. There may be shades of her throughout.

In this last song, she feels more than shades.

Had they ever been anything besides a fine line? Somewhere between one thing and the next.

She hesitates to think something more, that denigrates their friendship. Romance isn't necessarily superior, that's a bought and sold fairy tale she has tried to unlearn.

But, if she is honest, being together would have felt like more, better. Because she wanted him, wanted him to want her.

Some of the lyrics trouble her.

She didn't think she was unknowable though. Maybe at the end, when she let him open her completely everywhere, and then promptly hopped over into one territory and only tread their old familiar line  accidentally once.

Could she ask him? Would she? Tomorrow?

Non, that's not like her. Helene's direct in desire, but not in definition. Probably why they got stuck walking the line.

But they were alright. What a comfort that was.

Whatever the truth, the inspiration, when she heard it live, tomorrow, she would pretend or hyperextend. Believe. She'd believe it was about her.

———————————————————————————

Helene always forgets what it's like to see his face in person, be in a room with him. On paper and in her mind when she is away, she can rationalize. 'He's handsome. But not extraordinary. You know better looking men, have shared more time with some.'

And then he is nearby, and her entire body is aware of him.

Moreover, so is everyone elses. That is his power, super prowess. He has this energy that galvanizes every libido in range. The hell of it, it turns on a dime and you want to ruffle his hair just after riding his face. He's so sexy and frustratingly endearing.

His gap between adorable and sexy is so small, and bowtied to perfection.

"What's new pussycat?" He whispers near her left shoulder before she can even fully take him in.

"Enfin!" She could see the rear of her brain case. Harry turned her body into his hug and was responding to her exaggerated exclamation.

"See Jeffrey, I told you she had the best eye roll!" He giggles a bit and holds her long, in that way anybody else probably couldn't get away with. Someone might rightly think they'd tasted every part of one another if he didn't hold everybody like this.

Helene takes the opportunity to smell him. He always smells good to her, even his stink. Sweat drenched and ball's empty or dandied up and stage worthy, he tasted like her first meal out when she returns home to Paris.

" I cannot believe you remember that conversation." She said into his neck.

It quelled his laughter.

"How could I forget the look of disgust on you and Sarah's faces. Too good to not use!"

"You gonna use it on Sarah too? Or would Mitch put your nose between your pretty eyebrows?"

"Don't mock my eyebrows!" He pulls back, but she's still within the walls of his body, bracketed by his arms. "They just grow like this."

"Qui," she snorted. "Don't forever I've photographed you being groomed, ma belle."

"She's  just cleaning them up! I swear."

"She just took your man card Harry." Jeff 's snickering.

"He didn't have a man card since long ago." She and Jeff laugh together.

"Heeeey!" His offended face goes soft around his smiling eyes. He tilts her body away from the small backstage crowd and she wonders where they are going. She's still going; her toes have all but left the ground while he leads her with his whole body.

She follows her heart.

Helene always feels small, but he makes her feel deliciously tiny. He leads her down a corridor, past people he waves to and she would have stopped to hug in other circumstances. She'd missed this circus family. Finally, she just has to ask, "Harry, where are we going? I don't have my equipment." If he wanted her to capture the moment, she needed a camera. He did this sometimes, this drag to a piece of personal history or set up he saw well in his mind's eye. His enthusiasm always contagious.

He didn't exactly have that energy going on now, he seemed nervous rather than excited.

"That's a bit unfortunate. S'ok though I only want a mental picture of your face. When you tell me." He pulls her through a door, a different dressing room from last time, which she realizes upon entry is actually an office.

"Where are we?" Helene asks as he positions himself between her and the door like she might make a break for it.

"Irving's office." He explains off hand. "Now tell me, what' d you think?"

"Quoi?" She can feel the screw of her face to the left. She has no idea what he could mean, she'd been so busy keeping up with his footsteps, she had no idea what he was on mentally. They didn't always connect easily, he wasn't always an open book, but she'd figured out how to crack him a time or two. It was easier with a camera at her eye, or both of them naked.

"Of the album, my album." He pinches his bottom lip and wrings his hands a tad.

"The album?" Her brain's slow. Why were they talking about this?

"You' re the only one who hasn't text me, or responded. That's included I mean."

"Included?" What?

"Please stop repeating me in one word questions, Helene!" He looks up and blows out a breath. "Did you like it? Are you upset?"

"Upset?"

"Helene!"

"Harry, lower your voice."

"Apologies." He takes her hand. "Now, did you like it?"

Ah, it was easy to forget how praise was like water on a neglected plant to him. He just wanted assurance that her love of his work would fill her photos again.

"Qui, clairement, it's gorgeous."

"And?" He looks, she couldn't quite place it, Like a puppy trying to sneak into your bed. Hopeful but preemptively scolded.

"And?" She opens her palms to him, subconsciously trying to release his nerves about whatever he's asking her opinion of.

"Did you hear it? At all." He rolls his eyes, but it was so clearly at himself that Helene takes no offense. "Hear us I mean?"

"I didn't want to presume." She starts after a pregnant pause.

"Presume, tournesol, presume." He leans close and she can really smell him. Not pungent like Mexico after hours of sun, or after a night on stage. But, days lazing or loitering in Italy under warm skies.

She shakes her head at him. She felt a spark of recognition that she'd classified as hope during that song, but, "that one is not all me."

"No, not entirely. It is an idea, a feeling fleshed out, but an ode none the less." He assures her, all eye contact and vulnerability.

He's closer now, enough to touch. And she could have? Would, but she had a more important question, a deeper song to address. Though she had to admit, most days Sunflower was her favorite. "Am I in any others?"

"Glimpses. Though one is mostly you." He gives her an encouraging smile, mischief around its edges.

She sucks in a breath. She really wants to know, she's become so much more that she was since she met him. Braver, kinder, richer in many ways. Could she be direct as well? What would Dominique, her most forward friend, do? "And the ending. That feels like a beginning?"

"Fine line?" His dimple's out. Helene might feel upset that he's a cat and she's the mouse if he wasn't a Tom to her Jerry.

"Qui, fine line?" If she just lifts her hand, his jaw will fit just so, always has., or the beautiful curve of his shoulder.

"That one," he's smiling like the time he presented her cake on her birthday. "I realized in Mexico is you!"

"Not until Mexico?" Now she didn't want to touch him, not even his fine shoulder.

"I knew while writing, the glimpses of you, but only one part was, her, was" he swallowed. She hoped it wasn't still pain slicing his throat as he forced the feeling down. She'd even take regret. "Camille" he took her hand. More friendly than the conversation. "The rest, the hope, is you." The nerves were foreign to him when he was with her, he didn't wear them well, his only awkward fit.

Helene let's her eyes fall closed while his breath wafts over her face. That was more Harry. The taste of caffeinated mint. The familiarity messes with her head, it's a bit false but never forced.

She wants to accept his compliment, even though he's undercut it with an inconvenient truth. Their relationship was not one. They were friends, they slept together sometimes, he was her boss and her muse. But they were never together, and  "that's nice, Harry, but, forgive me if it seems, well convenient."

"Convenient?" Oh, his brows are as tangled as his growing curls. Damn him.

"Me belle, it's hard not to notice who is not here, but everywhere on the album." He narrows his eyes in response to her observation. "And I also have someone else to call baby."

"You're with someone?" His pretty brows nearly touch above his nose.

"Qui." It was a bit of a stretch, really. A man she is dating, fucks occasionally. They're not exclusive, and she likes him, Rene, but no more has developed With anybody else, since she gave Harry Carte Blanche with her body. She had liked him, them, a few of them, thought they had potential. She supposed they still did, it just hadn't developed. Helene has never pushed them down the hill.

It hadn't stopped her from being with Harry in Mexico.

Helene talks about him now, hoping it will slow down the ball rolling from the top of the hill in Harry's mind. If he'a just realized he wrote about her and still believed sharing that notion just after she spent several hours marveling, begrudgingly, over his words to another woman, her clothes would fall off over one song for herself, well, he might be right. But she needed some kind of defense mechanism.

She's lacking a chastity belt, Rene's specter would have to do.

"How long?" He asks quietly.

"A bit." She wasn't going to give him details. That was showing him the chinks in her honor.

"Oh, ok, well, that's good." He clears his throat, looks at her with murky eyes. "I'm happy for you."

"I'm happy for you, as well." She hugs him, to touch him and reassure him. "This album, tour, will be a great success."

"Yeah, yeah." He says trying to believe it. "Now that it's out there, I hope so. But we are going to make it fun. You up for some fun, Helene? This time out?"

She's  confused, last time was fun, but she supposed her life was changing so fast, she had no grand expectations to carry on her shoulders and no one broke her heart during tour.

That came after. He must be going into this round with a different attitude.

"Yeah, fun sounds good." He high fives her and she can't help but laugh at him. It turns into another hug, and all the distancing she'd done during this conversation ceased when he kissed her flaxen hair.

"Break, break a leg, Harry." He smiles, the nerves making it quiver just a bit as they go their separate ways.

—————————————————————————— The album closer is approaching and Helene is suddenly nervous. Sunflower kinda made her shake, luckily it's such a damn happy jam, her feelings didn't sweep her away. It's already been a magical night, and she knows the magic doesn't end with the album. Harry has some amazement up his pink sleeve.

His outfit had been distracting, not like Paris or Madrid, but it's so pretty and such a cute silhouette. Helene realizes while she is snapping away. It was distracting because she wanted it herself. It might overwhelm her small frame, but that pink would look good on anyone. He might loan it to her, Sarah and Mitch wore his clothes sometimes.

She's at least as close.

Closer.

He says something before he begins, and it's loud so Helene has to translate it twice, figure out his words and then think them in French. The song's started before she realizes he's said its a difficult song to perform for the first time.

She can't put her finger on why, but she feels for him, for herself. Her brow is knit up like that time she tried to make a Christmas scarf and the little piece of her heart she took back from him breaks free from its stitches and goes to him, right where he stands on his big stage.

The music starts and it's the build that gets her. Just like the first time. She admits she listened to this one repeatedly, Listen one- physical experience, listen two- listening for the glimpses she thought she had caught of herself. Listen three- cry time.

Helene does not want to weep, but it seems she might be in good company. Harry's doing his closed eyes thing. She teased him about that onetime.

"Is it easier to hear how good you are if you close your eyes?" She'd asked this from the head of the bed while he lay across the bottom rubbing her feet.

"What?"

She supposed it was a nonsequiter. "When you sing and when you fuck, you close your eyes sometimes. Is it so you can focus on the screaming?" She pushed him with her foot and gave him a flirtatious smile.

"I don't need to hear the screams to know I'm good." He'd smirked at her and she would have kicked him off the expensive high hotel bed, but he continued too quickly, "To be honest," oh he was serious now, "It's when I get emotional. Or I need to focus."

"Like to hit a note?" She likes his explanation. He keeps his eyes closed sometimes when he's inside her. She hopes that, she, makes him feel; she's too afraid to ask him about that though.

"Or to make you hit a note!" He'd dropped his emotional temperature quickly, grinned and tackled her. "Let's see if we can get you to a G7!"

She did not hit any whistle notes, her orgasm had actually been pretty silent, but the build up had been harmonious.

The conversation came back to her now. His eyes were definitely closed, as they had been during Falling, and a few other times. But, he'd said this was hers, theirs, and he seemed to be feeling, if her memory served, and she remembered so much about Harry, she trusted it.

And then, as her eyes are unquestionably about to spill over to wet the forum floor with her fellow Harry fans, his open. They find her like he's been tracking her all night, and that may be true, though that is more her job, to always be aware of him and his location. But she's rooted there now. She may never leave this spot, Because there is emotion in his eyes, it's not humid like hers, but it's intense.

He eventually shifts to connect with a paying customer, but Helene is a mess. She has to go back stage to collect herself.

She almost misses Stevie, and even if he wrote songs about her, Helene is fairly certain she would get fired for that. The rest of the show is a blur. She snaps it by muscle memory.

Helene also doesn't stay for the after party, it's all to much. It's a departure from her normal behavior, she would almost always stay, with her camera, and to be with everybody. Tonight she's planned to. She missed them dearly, she just couldn't after that moment.

Harry doesn't have that luxury, it's his party, which is why he doesn't knock on her hotel room door until 3am.

She thought she'd got away with it.

Helene's still awake, barely, and when she answers the door, she knows she's mussed. He's seen her like this before, he's caused it. She's too tired to care much.

"Harry," she sighs. "It's late, Cherie."

"You left, and I needed to talk to you." He walks in like he owns the place. She supposes he did pay for it. He just turns to look at her, and if she didn't already feel exhausted beyond measure, those eyes on her may have sparked the fire he lit long ago in her belly.

"Go ahead." The sooner he unburdens himself the better, she looks longingly at her bed.

And then he just sighs and says, "are we?"

She's doubts the face she makes is attractive, "are we what?"

"Alright? Are we alright?"

God, that's a major question. What they are is a shadow of existence, some half way place between what they could have been, what they should be, and then what they are. It a very strange set of loops, like the comparison charts from school. They are colleagues, no doubt, friends, thankfully, and lovers, occasionally. Do any of those designations mean they are alright?

Because she doesn't want occasional lovers. She's put distance between them because she wants more. Halfway is not alright to her.

"Helene?" Oh, she's just been biting her lip this entire time. She really wants to go to bed, but, they should get this done before tour. Does she tell him she wants to be the dead center of his life, or just leave it at they are alright and go to dreamland.

Either are scary in their own right and he's distracting.

He's wearing comfy clothes, the yellow shirt and large trousers she'd snapped him arriving at the forum in. The shirt hugs his body and it makes it difficult for her to pretend she doesn't want to be really open about her feelings. Sometimes isn't enough, not anymore, maybe not ever.

"Let's sit."

"Uh oh." Harry exhales.

"Uh oh?" She looks up at him.

"Is the next sentence 'we need to talk?'"

"Well, we do, or you wouldn't be here on the wrong side of the sun."

"Fair enough." He sighs and sits back, his head hits the back of the couch. He's stretched out, and her small frame would fit well between his hips and chin. She's tempted to do it, to straddle him. Then the talk won't happen, and all these things will be left up in the air. And she will be narrative adjacent, still.

But she's in his narrative, right? If the song is about her? Is that enough?

So she sits with him. "Harry," she takes his hand and he looks so hopeful. "What does it mean to be alright?" Helene is surprised by her own question. It's direct, perhaps not as direct as it could be. She's unsure what he's asking. Is he asking her for more of the same? Today's same, where they are flirty friends and colleagues. Or the alright of yesterday, where she's his friend and employee with benefit.

That's not alright.

Or does it mean something else, something more. Like the feeling after the build in the music, hopeful, open ended: a chance taken.

He finally yanks his eyes open, and Helene remembers he performed an entire concert and went to an after party. That he is center stage in many peoples life. Is she insane to want to be his locus? Harry opens his mouth, then closes it.

"I guess, I don't know."

Helene nods. It's not a surprise, he just wants harmony and everybody happy. He may not have thought beyond them being ok on the surface. He's not ready for the conversation she thought he was asking about.

"We're fine Harry. You're tired, you should get to bed." She stands to show him to the door,  is suddenly back to wholly exhausted herself.

He's shaking his head.

"Harry's it's 330. We need sleep."

"I didn't like that you left."

"You don't get to make me stay at a party. It's not part of my duties."

He's still shaking his head. "No, I'm not saying this right. It's not alright."

"What isn't?" God, she's frustrated, wants him to be clear.

"That you don't want to be around me. I miss you." Well that's obvious for him, and wrong.

She closes her eyes. "Did you ever consider, maybe it's that I want to be around you too much."

"What do you mean?" He looks puzzled but there is light around his eyes, blue skies and clouds.

She sighs. Someone has to be vulnerable, Might as well be her. She knows how straightforward he just was must pain him. "I mean, I don't want to be with you at the party," he's cringing. "well, not just." She takes a fortifying breath. "I miss you too, but I miss what we could have been as well. And I can't," she could do this. "I can't just sleep with you when you are feeling lonely anymore. We are either friends or we are more. It's not fair to me. I can't walk the fine line anymore."

He's looking at their interlaced fingers. A drop hits her hand.

"Harry?"

"I'm sorry." He whispers

Her heart breaks. He doesn't want this. She tries to take her hand from his. Dammit, why did they have to do this in her room? She can't run away now.

"No, no." He looks  up. Why's he sad when she's getting rejected? "I'm sorry I took you for granted, or made you feel like you were my second choice."

She'd not said that.

"I can read between your lines, Helene." He touches her cheek. "I had feelings for you, but I was already with Camille. And then, I was mourning. And it takes me bloody ages."

She wants to role her eyes. She supposes it's kinda true, but he was mourning his rejection.

"I've realized since then, my heart was bruised, but my ego was what got broken. And I wasn't in a place to offer you anything. Not until Mexico, but then things just got busy and we didn't talk."

"We never do." She purses her lips.

"We need to." He holds her chin in his hands. "So, I'm asking. Will you cross the line with me?"

God, her heart is swelling, and she's afraid to look at his face. Is he really asking what she is hearing? "Harry, amor, what does that mean? I can't speak in metaphors." She can, but it's trouble with him. He's a metaphor himself with his figurative edges and blurred meanings.

He sighs, chuckles to himself, and lets go of her hand. He cups her face and draws her eyes up to the tide pools of his. The tides in, he's teary. "I want to do it together, not have you cross the line hoping I follow, or me waiting on the side for you thinking you understood what I was asking for. But together."

She huffs, she stilll, always, doesn't know what the fuck he is talking about. "What line Harry?" She assumes when someone is holding your face gently you shouldn't be yelling in their face in return, but he is so frustrating. "I still don't know what you are saying."

He laughs at himself, or at her, or them. "I'm saying, we should do this, you and me. Like a real relationship. Not just when we are together on tour or meeting up for me to work. But you come home with me to London, or Malibu, or wherever. Or I go with you to Paris, and we don't leave."

"Are you suggesting we move in together?" She's smiling, finally. The edges of her lips would be at her  earlobes if they could be. "You may want to ask me to be your girlfriend first."

"We've been moving at a glacial pace for years. But that's not really what I meant—"

"I know." She shakes her head fondly. "So?"

"So-" he takes a big breath. "Will you be my girlfriend, Helene?"

Oh god, this is what it feels like to look at the sun. To be the sun. "Yes!" It's a whisper, but full of emotion if not voice.

She's not sure why she is so overcome by it that she can't speak, but she can move, she's straddling his lap a moment later.

He laughs, "it's hard to kiss you when you are giggling." But he's vibrating along with her and his bunny teeth clack against hers just as much. His hand is in her hair and it's not until it slides down to cup her jaw that she can't laugh anymore.

Not when he is looking at her like that. His heart is in his eyes and her face is in his hands. Harry's eyes always sparkle, but the combination of mirth and awe shakes her like an earthquake.

The kiss goes better then, or it more closely resembles a kiss, in that their lips form to one another, going from right angle to straight line to acute in time. His tongue has always been devilish and she wonders if it's vocal training that renders it so.

She's more vocal than him, as always, and she's panting his name when his hand engulfs her throat before sliding her silk pajama top off her shoulder to kiss her neck, collarbones, the tops of her breasts. Her nipples stand high on her plum sized mounds and they always trill along the roof of his mouth deliciously. His other hand is around her hip and he's gripping it fiercely to move her over him.

She's halfway there on his question alone, but their venue seems a bit uncomfortable. Helene almost reconsiders her position on their positioning when Harry has that perfect mouth between her breasts and below and the back of the couch is perfect to hold onto while she arches back, back, back. She's bent in two when he pulls her up to his mouth.

This time she is getting his teeth. Why's he giggling again, this is serious business? If she could just concentrate, get him to focus for a moment, she can have her first orgasm of the night.

"Harry, Cherie." She tríes again, her tongue ready to slide over his lips and into that pattern that makes her shiver when his teeth block her again. "Please kiss me!" She's frustrated.

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to move to the bedroom, girlfriend, but you're very focused." He's still smiling and her ire melts at the appellation.

Does she want to go to the bedroom? She won't have the back of the couch to hold onto, but she will have Harry.

She stands and drops her loose shorts. As is usual, Harry has most of his clothes on and she's suited up for her birthday.

"Alright." He breathes and she's in his arms and he's finally giving her the tonguing she loves en route. Her in the altogether seems to have finally got him from mirth to girth, pressing against her and filling the void at the apex of her thighs the way only he has.

She's happy Harry seems to have been enjoying their bodily arrangement as much as she is, when he sits on the side of the bed and maneuvers to the middle with her still draped around his waist. He's said before he loves how maneuverable she is, and she is loving her tiny stature at the moment too.

Her hands are pulling his t shirt free and tossing it away. She loves the golden hue of his skin, he's always a little tan, even in winter. The milk and honey of their bodies against one another always delights her. She goes for the button on the jeans she'd like for herself. They won't fit her, but he always fits, snug at first and then just right.

He kicks them free and then she's back on top of him doing the wiggle to get his inside her, pressing over the largest part before the pressure keeps up and then everything slips into place, the audible pop of his tip still her favorite part.

They both exhale, and smile into each other's eyes. Helene touches the corner of his eyes and they twinkle back at her. "Hi boyfriend."

He chuckles and she moans over the tiny vibration it causes. "You're ready then?"

He already knows the answer to this question. Helene braces her hand behind her while she nods and then his hand is beneath her ass flexing her pelvis over his own.

He really is her prince of rock and roll. She rolls up over him and rocks over his dick until he's closing his eyes and drilling her hips. He's split her open, bottom up and it's intense.

"Give me a minute." He chokes after less time than she expected.

"Too much?" She likes that the shoe is on the other foot, usually she needs a break from his unrelenting physicality, Harry the athlete in the bedroom as well.

She supposed it takes emotion to force Harry to a quick release.

She's keeps flexing around him until he puts his head to her collarbone and then looks up to glare at her. "You're walking a fine line!" He says before he laughs at his own joke.

"I'm not waking anywhere. I'm loving you." She let's that sit there while her hips are quiet. That's all she's going to say about that. He stares at her intensely.

"Let me see you love me, then." She likes when he gives orders, even when their sex is closers to making love than fucking.

Helene obliges him, caves her belly back and starts the ride again, notches her head next to his, like the teeth of zipper, so she can watch with him.

It gets her there, but he's a little ahead of her. He's stilling her hips again. "Stop." It's a beg.

"Just come bebe." She whispers into his sweaty skin.

"You're not ready." He protests.

"We have all night, you can spread me open, all. night. and all day tomorrow, and after." She smiles at him. "All the time in the world to know me!"

"Yeah?" He's gleeful like a kid finding tooth fairy money.

She nods and starts moving, directs his gaze down. The edge of pleasure closer than she expects. Harry is rarely wrong about pleasure. Helene's happy her climb surprises them both.

She reaches the peak and plummets with him on the rollercoaster of emotions tonight's brought. Screams with the thrill.

It's more than fine, the white light explosion behind her eyelids. They've found the right side of the line.

They'll be alright.

[thehierophage]

Bruno and the Occult Attack of Politicians

Since Lord Dampnut's ascension to the presidency there has been no shortage of witches, sorcerers, and enchanters working to try to bind, curse, or hex him. As a somewhat amusing side effect of this cultural phenomenon we've been able to see David Griffin of the Golden Dawn(R) wax like a tin-foil hat wearing kook decrying this evil and malignant magical warfare against our nation's Holy King. The purpose of this essay is to lay out why these efforts aren't really working. I'm putting this out there not to discourage your magical operations, but to make sure they are more effective.

The primary work I'll be referring to in this discussion is “On Magic” (De Magia) by the great Renaissance thinker and magician, Giordano Bruno. In this work he details the conditions required for establishing the necessary magical bonds whereby a magician would be able to manipulate and control a spirit/spirit-embodied person.

The first two bonds are considered to be comprised of a type of “triple power” which demands the utmost attention before any of the other bonds can be considered. That is, the first two bonds are each composed of three elements a piece which make up their effectiveness as a bond and which must be attended to if any magical operation is to be successful (outside of luck or grace). Here are the first two:

1. The first bond which ties spirits together is general in character and is represented metaphorically by the three-headed Cerberus of Trivia, the doorkeeper of hell. This is the triple power which is needed by one who binds, i.e., by the magician: namely, physics, mathematics and metaphysics. The first is the base; the second is the scale; the third is the summit of the scale. The first explains active and passive principles in general; the second explains times, places and numbers; the third explains universal principles and causes. This is a triple cord which is difficult to break.

2. The second bond is also triple and is needed in the agent, in the action and in the thing on which the agent acts. It consists of faith or credibility, of invocations, of love and of strong emotions in the application of the active to the passive. The role of the soul is to produce changes in the body of the composite, and the role of the body is to change the soul materially. If these bondings do not happen, or especially if they are not present, then no amount of attention or motion or agitation will produce any results. For a magician is most fortunate if many believe in him, and if he commands great persuasion.

So in the first instance, the magician is expected to have an understanding of the nature of the thing being worked upon (physics), an understanding of the symbols being used to create that change (mathematics), and an understanding of the philosophical theories which by necessity must contain the first two (metaphysics), and these three are considered to be the first and most important of magical bonds.

I would venture to say that sorcerers working against the current administration by and large are probably a pretty savvy bunch, or at least sophisticated enough to understand at least one thread of this triple cord (i.e., the “mathematic”). There's also a good number of magicians out there that have a decent understanding of the metaphysics of their given magical systems as well as the sets of correspondences which they use in any given magical operation. Where many may be lacking is in understanding the subject which they wish to change/affect, and this proves to be the lynchpin to the observable failures of the magical operations up to this point. Because unless all three of these cords are being put into use this most critical and primary of bonds will not take.

The second link in establishing the magical link extends its scope to not just the magician, but the magician, the target, and the operation being performed. Bruno says that the knowledge and understanding which is the core of the first bond is not sufficient in and of itself, but requires a real intense passion in the execution of the operation. In fact it requires a type of furore (a la Ficino) or Platonic mania in the magician to produce the necessary non-ordinary consciousness which will allow the magician to summon forth the necessary force for or against the target. What he doesn't mention explicitly until later is that the potency of the invocation must be something that would also move the target to feel that they are a passive recipient of the force being invoked. Simply put, it doesn't matter how passionate your petition is or how adroitly you handle your magical tools – if Lord Dampnut isn't the type of guy who is impressed by or fears such actions, then your ministrations will not produce a strong magical bond.

Bruno says of this later on in the same work chapter on the bondings of spirits:

“For actions actually to occur in the world, three conditions are required: (1) an active power in the agent; (2) a passive power or disposition in a subject or patient, which is an aptitude in it not to resist or to render the action impossible (which reduces to one phrase, namely, the potency of matter); and (3) an appropriate application, which is subject to the circumstances of time, place and other conditions.”

So not only must you 1) know your magical system really well (#3), be super passionate and precise in your working of that system (#1), but the subject/target of your work must not be resistant to being affected by the system or its operator (#2). Obviously it's in this last point that the process unravels.  

Bruno continues: 

“In the absence of these three conditions, all actions are, simply speaking, always blocked. For even if a flute player is perfect, he is blocked by a broken flute, and the application of the former to the latter is useless. Thus, a lack of power in the matter makes an agent impotent and an application unfitting. This is what was meant when we said that an absence of these three conditions, strictly speaking, always blocks an action.

“Closer examination may show that the defect is due to only two, or even only one, of these conditions. But a defect in any one of them should be understood as meaning a defect in all three, as when the flute player and his performance are perfect but the flute is defective, or when the player and the flute are perfect but the performance is interrupted. If the whole meaning of efficient action is taken to consist in the application, then the first condition merges with the third, for the agent is nothing other than the applicator, and to do something is nothing other than to apply something.”

To complicate matters Bruno throws out this interesting tidbit in his list of the types of magical bonds:

“7. The souls of men who are tyrants and rulers, and of those who have acquired some degree of fame and thus have become spirits.”

Now this could refer to the souls of these figures after they've died when they move from being a personality to becoming a principle – a kind of euhemerism where the minutia of the person is stripped away and the image becomes the receptacle and embodiment of  specific values as in the case of patron saints.

Another, more sophisticated reading of this note may entail that the powerful and famous generate their own spirits of themselves which consist of their public image and the conceptions of themselves created and broadcast by the media. If this latter explanation is valid, then any magical work put against a media figure of some notoriety would affect possibly only the fame-generated spectre of the person and not the actual target. Only through continuous chipping away at the public persona would the source of that spirit begin to be affected.

In the case of the current example - their nature as a thin-skinned slave to their own media representation seemingly should assist media-savvy sorcerers in creating hexes which would damage the spirit proxy. This damage would then impact the host generating the spirit.

So what would a successful magical operation against this monster look like? The key here I think would be a two-fold coordination between those assaulting his public image (i.e., the spirit generated by it) and individuals working on the target directly. Both parties would have to be extremely well-trained, polished operators in order to dismantle such a juggernaut.

The first would tactically release imagery and stories meant to lure in those who have fallen under the spell of his spirit while also dismantling the spirit's ability to rally those same people to it by showing the spirit and its host as undesirable, insane, impotent, and working against their ability to enjoy themselves. This has become increasingly difficult to do as audiences have become hypersensitive to absolutely anything that has a whiff of being oppositional to their Fearless Leader. When faced with reasonable questions concerning the spirit's intentions its followers often respond simply by  falling into a paroxysm of anger leveling accusations of unpatriotic behavior until the accuser has been shouted down. As a result these victims rally around a continuously fine-tuned stream of media from sources that provide them material which reinforces their position while also coordinating this spirit's magical force thus amplifying the problem. Frighteningly, one of the only ways to dismantle the power of this spirit's sway over its servants is to show it as being the thing that they hate and positing an even more insane alternative.

The second group of magicians would have to contend with finding and fixing those weak bonds discussed above. But who would turn a man like that into a passive recipient of the magical influence invoked by the magician? The answer, most likely, would be women. His love life has been very public and it would take no talent at all to figure out what his “type” is. A well-trained sorceress could then make him receptive to her charms (perhaps by feeding him her menstrual blood or powdered hair), receive personal effects from him by which to bind him, and be able to use these in conjunction with a burgeoning relationship with the target. Since the subject's natal chart is available and well-known this sorceress would be able to calculate the name of his Wicked Spirit, create specialized invocations triggering his already poorly placed malefics, and/or calculate the Lot of Death or Misfortune to divine when certain actions would need to be executed.

( Donhole by Blacky)

The above scenarios are a description of the type of work that would most likely have to be done to magically bring down a man with that kind of power. Anything less would probably fail or only be successful as a stroke of luck or through grace. I still recommend that magicians continue to do the work they're currently doing though. Not because I feel it will succeed in removing this monster from office, but because it accomplishes a continual regicide within the mind of the operator. There is one throne within the palace of the mind and it should either be filled by you or left conspicuously empty. Sic Semper Tyrannis.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Hammer of the Gods: Final Part

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1,531

Warnings: typical supernatural violence, language, angst, blood, you know the usual

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. Any and all comments on these are appreciated. I really want to hear what you guys think about this one!

Feedback is the glue that holds my writing together.

Tags at the bottom

“Show's over,” you say when you enter the ballroom. “Sword's a fake, and Gabriel’s still kicking. I hate to break it to you, sister, but you've been tricked.”

Kali doesn’t say anything, but she has a hopeful look in her eyes. She still has feelings for Gabriel, that much you can see.

“What now?” Sam asks.

“Now, all we have to do is—”

The lights flicker in the Grand Ballroom, and you cut yourself off and look at the lights.

“What's happening?” Baldur asks.

“It’s him,” Sam nods.

“How do you know?” Kali wonders.

“Does it matter? Shazzam us outta here, would ya?” Dean says.

“We can’t,” Baldur sighs.

“Of course you can't,” Lucifer says from the double doors. He doesn’t look the same since you last saw him. Whatever his vessel is doing to him, it’s not good. There are red sores all over his face as if his vessel is breaking down. It’s like whoever he’s possessing isn’t fit to handle such a powerful creature. “You didn't say, ‘mother, may I?’. Sam, Dean, Y/N, good to see you again.”

“Baldur, don't,” Kali says when she sees her partner size up Lucifer.

“You think you own the planet? What gives you the right?” he sasses.

He stalks towards Lucifer to confront him, but the archangel just shoves his bare hand through his chest and out the other side.

“No one gives us the right, we take it,” he says and rips his hand out, killing the Norse God instantly.

Lucifer tosses Baldur to the side like he’s nothing, and that pisses Kali off. Both of her arms erupt in flames, and you and the brothers do the smart thing and hide behind an overturned table for cover. This is a fight for the grownups, and it’s best if you stay out of the way. She throws flame after flame at Lucifer, but no matter how much fire gets on the archangel, it doesn’t damage his vessel any more than it already is.

She stalks to him angrily, but before she can get in another shot, he hits her with an uppercut to the chin, sending her flying through the air.

“You okay?” Sam whispers to you and his brother.

“Not really. Better late then never, huh?” Gabriel answers from besides you. Where the hell did he come from? Did he finally come to his senses and join the fight against his brother? He takes out a DVD from his jacket and shoves it into your chest gently. “Guard this with your life.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

You use your magic to conceal the DVD before shoving it in your jacket.

He doesn’t explain what it is, and he gets up to deal with his older brother. He shoves his hand out and sends Lucifer flying through the double doors and into the hallway. Gabriel has his archangel blade in his hand with determination. Well, you think it’s an archangel blade. You’re not really sure anymore.

“Lucy, I'm home,” he chuckles. Lucifer stomps over to him, but Gabriel raises the blade higher, which stops the other angel in his tracks. “Not this time.” He reaches behind him and helps Kali to her feet. Now that you know it’s safe, you and the Winchesters reveal yourself. “Guys! Get her outta here!”

Deciding not to question him, Sam and Dean take Kali and guide her to the doors so she can escape the hotel. You’re not that far behind, and you refuse to back down from Lucifer’s hard gaze.

“Over a girl. Gabriel, really? I mean I knew you were slumming, but I hope you didn't catch anything,” Lucifer says right as you leave.

You’re not staying for the rest of that conversation. There is no more trouble for you as you leave the hotel, and you three rush to the car with Kali trailing behind.

“I'm not getting in that thing.”

“Just get in the car, princess,” Dean rolls his eyes.

You open the door for her, and once she’s inside, you squeeze in next to her. The brothers get in, and Dean wastes no time leaving the hotel grounds. Kali has the vials containing your blood, so as long as you’re with her, you can leave. Once she destroys them, you’re free from her spell.

ALL PERFORMERS IN THIS FILM ARE OVER THE AGE OF 18, HAVE CONSENTED TO BEING PHOTOGRAPHED, AND HAVE PROVIDED PROOF OF AGE. 18 U.S.C. SECTION 2257

Whatever film Gabriel gave you, you thought watching it was a good idea. He hasn’t come back from his little play date with his brother, so you figured something bad might have happened to him. It’s the next day, and you’re watching the DVD with the brothers on Sam’s laptop in the middle of nowhere.

“Dear Diary, being a high-powered business president is super-fun. But so exhausting. Sometimes, I just need to relax. I need Casa Erotica,” a female says sexily.

Is this really a porn video? There is a knock on the door, and the woman dressed in very little clothing gets off the bed excitedly.

“Room Service!” a man says from behind the door.

Wait, you know that voice…

“Come in!” the woman says with a smile.

“Gabriel wanted you to guard this with your life?” Sam asks you.

“Hey, don’t look at me. I figured it was worth something. Now, I’m not so sure,” you shudder and continue to watch the DVD.

The door to the hotel room opens, and Gabriel walks in wearing a mustache and a service waiter’s outfit.

“I've got the kielbasa you ordered,” he says to the woman.

“Ooh, Polish?”

“Hunagrian,” he smirks and throws the dish on the mantle.

The screen goes black, and all you hear is the sound of Gabriel kissing the woman.

“Okay, if this continues, I’m burning your laptop,” you groan.

“I might let you,” Sam clears his throat.

The screen goes from being black to showing Gabriel and the woman making out on the bed. He’s feeling her up and down sensually, and the woman is moaning.

“What the fuck is going on?” you demand to know.

Gabriel stops kissing the woman, turns to face the camera, takes off his mustache, and breaks the fourth wall of the film.

“Sam, Dean, Y/N. You're probably wondering what the hell is going on. Well, if you're watching this, I'm dead. Oh please! Stop sobbing, it's embarrassing for all of us. Without me, you've got zero shot at killing Lucifer. Sorry, but you can trap him.

“The cage you sprung Lucifer from? It's still down there. Maybe, just maybe, you can shove his ass back in. Not that it'll be easy. You gotta get the cage open and trick my bro back into it. And uh, oh yeah, avoid Michael and the God Squad. But hey, details, right?

“Wait for it, here's the big secret that Lucifer himself doesn't even know—the key to the cage? It's out there. Actually it's keys, plural. Four keys, well, four rings from the Horsemen. You get 'em all, you got the cage. Can't say I'm betting on you boys and Y/N. But, uh, hey! I've been wrong before. And Y/N, you were right. I was afraid to stand up to my brother, but not anymore. So this is me, standing up.”

Gabriel stands off the bed only to lay back down, but on top of the woman.

“And this is me lying down.”

He grabs the woman and starts the process of getting down and dirty. This is proving to be too much for you to see, so you slam Sam’s laptop down with force and shudder.

“That is something I don’t need to see,” you shrug.

“Horsemen, huh? Well we got War's, and we nicked Famine's, which means that's two down. Collect all four seems like a piece of cake.”

“Wait, when did you get War’s?” you ask.

You know you’ve asked him this before, but a lot has happened since then, and you’re fuzzy on the incident since you weren't with them.

“Oh, right, you weren't there. Where were you while we were trying to fight for something that actually mattered?”

“Oh, so saving a whole town from killing each other doesn’t matter? Ellen and Jo don’t fucking matter?” you yell.

“Well, I know they do,” he glares.

“Enough! Seriously, you guys, you need to stop this,” Sam interrupts.

He grabs his laptop off the top of the car and tucks it underneath his arm.

“I’m not the one who needs to stop. It’s him that needs to grow the fuck up and start acting like a mature fucking adult,” you sneer.

“Oh bite me,” he hisses.

“Stop! Both of you, get in the car! All we need are the rings from Death and Pestilence. Let’s focus on getting them instead of each other, okay?”

“Fine by me!” you yell and get into the car.

You slam the door a little harder than necessary, and the brothers get inside a few seconds after you. Sam is getting sick and tired of this fighting. He wants it to end, but he doesn’t see it ending well.

Neither do you and Dean.

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[starlightshore]

im kinda want to get into this sort of thing so is it okay to ask u a few questions? if not just delete this, but here goes? would u reccomend game maker studio 2, and how hard is it to use in ur opinion? and is there anything u wish u knew at the beginning of making ur fangame?

aw anon you’re so sweet! don’t worry about asking about this, its really exciting to make games and trying new things! i would not say i’m an expert, and i wouldn’t even say i know gml like. at all. i just understand a how the code is used, but now what the code itself is or what to type exactly. like, i understand the theory more so than actually doing it. which is, eh, fine? i’m getting by, and i’m still learning. i’ve only been using gms 2 for 2 months now.

also, i’m using a fangame engine! i feel its kinda like cheating lmao, but its just meant to be a framework to build your own thing off of. and i still need to learn gms2 to use it, and i plan on doing more advanced and complicated things (ie: changing how battles even work structurally.) so. i’m not good at gsm2 yet, but uh, really once you understand coding its not any harder than i’d imagine w/ other professional game engines. compared to unity, i like this better because it seems built on the idea of making 2d sprite games. its SO much more simpler and the userface (while. i’m not a fan of how it has its workspace but whatever) is simple and easy to grasp.

i can’t say for certain if i recommend game maker. its very pricey and doesn’t go on sale often. (big sales i mean, it goes on 15% somewhat frequently) i really, really recommend doing your research first. 

so here i talk about what game engines i’ve used over the last year. (also i hear Godot is good!)

at the end of that post i said this: “TLDR; figure out what kind of game and story you want to tell/make. i could of saved a year’s worth of work if i just sat myself down and realized i wanted to make a completely new fangame separate from my old blog stuff. and that i wanted to make an rpg specifically.“

and so! past me has good advice. figure out the scope and what story do you want to tell. with AL, I know it has 2 chapters, and rn i’m only concentrating on chapter 1. chp 1 has 7 nights and one area where you fight enemies. its very story/character driven and is more so like. a deconstruction of the rpg genre than an actual rpg game. (i know that the word deconstruction is over used as hell, but it is what this is.)

it builds off the themes of the original, while focusing on things that i want to focus on and develop. ut, at it’s heart, is about stories and grief, i’m just taking it to a different extreme and angle.

uh, anyway, i really wish i knew what i wanted to make and understood the source material more and what i wanted to make. i’ve. thought really really hard over what UT means, what message toby was trying to convey, how he did it and what I thought about it. understanding what YOU want from and for your project is the most important thing. WHY do you want to make this? WHAT do you want people to feel and think about when playing? or even, after playing? it doesn’t have to be super deep either.

so, figure out what you what to make, and then you can work on the how. really plan your story, but honestly i wouldn’t recommend planning it in super big details right off. also, super helpful to have a friend help you brainstorm and plot check things for you. (shout out to my friend the sniffer

anyway, don’t plan things TOO detailed because things are GOING to change no matter how well you plan! just try to get get an outline done, then rewrite it 5 more times and then MAYBE you’ll be ready to tackle a more detailed version. then write it 5 more times. i can’t stress enough how important planning is, and how you shouldn’t expect everything to work out even on draft 10! things will work, and when they do, draft 10 is going to look like bad awful nonsense cause you’re at draft 20 now and everything is much more coherent and better. games aren’t written or consumed all at once on the fly. its not a piece of fanart, a fanfic, a comic. its not updated more than once. its out, and then its just out. plan for it.

and real quick, don’t worry about art assets! depending on how you do the art, that’s most likely going to change and its going to be polished LAST. i could go more into how you should think of art when game developing, but thats another topic. just. honestly use shitty art assets and worry about it later.

kris’ place holder sprite for deltarune ^ it don’t need to be pretty, it needs to be practical.

second advice: start SMALL!!! i feel i should of done this, and frankly i probably will have to sit down and do this lmao, basically, you should make boring small games to learn the basics. I know, i know, nobody really wants to recreate asteroid when you got big ideas of making stories and animations u wanna make. but like. you really need to figure out how the program works and how the code works in theory and practice.

ok so like, think of coding like this. i got this from a skillshare video series, so uh. i’m going to retell this but in a shittier and likely less nuanced way. sorry

ok so imagine. you’re telling this guy who is trying to get to Gary’s house. now, Gary’s house is just down the road, few houses down, now, you can tell this guy that and he’ll likely find the house just fine. but if you’re telling a robot it’s not going to understand what “down the road” means. what road? how long? it needs instructions that are simple and work in a language it understands.

so you tell the robot “go down two houses, stop at sign until x seconds pass, turn right, go forward 1 house, turn ect. stop at house, ring doorbell. IF Gary answers, go inside; ELSE: do not go inside, wait;

so this what i mean by understanding the theory behind the code rather than the code itself. yes there’s complexities and differences in each language, but they’re ALL based on the same concepts. different program languages are less like different speech languages, but rather different dialects of the same. (uh, like us english vs uk english) its just different rules and “spellings” of the same core concepts.

next advice: don’t be afraid to ask for help! but also! do so within reason! if people are OPEN for helping, be sure do so in the right environment and within what time works for them. compensate people for the time and effort if you can. ALWAYS try to figure out the solution yourself first. often with coding, it can be a simple solution that you could of thought of yourself if you took the initiative to. google is your friend, youtube is your friend! (ok, youtube isn’t, but in this case! yes!) the answer might not always be easy to find, and its perfectly fine to look for help but its good to at least try on your own first!

speaking of which! LEARN LEARN LEARN! be ready to devote A LOT of time to watching and reading about game development. this goes to every game making program, not just gms2. i watch. so many videos on gms. i rec having the video play at 1.5x or 2x speed to cut down time. obvs you still need to retain the information, so speed might be not a good idea then. and its REALLY GOOD to pause and type out the code and follow along. but its also good to just understand the concepts, and theres no harm in rewatching once you’ve understood it  better at a different speed.

things WILL click and work out for you, and its going to be a very time consuming and long journey to get there. i LOVE making this game and telling this story but I also had no idea what i was getting into! and i probably will have more advice once i’m further in, (i’ve only used gms 2 for 2 months!) but thats the best i can say for now! i hope you pursue your dreams and start making things!!! you can do it!!! 

the best time to start is yesterday, the second best time is right now! even if you put a little effort into it everyday, you’ll  build up progress and you can learn SO MUCH over time and theres this whole world of possibilities out there! the world NEEDS your story and your perspective, and i think creating it in anyway you can is necessary for humanity! your work will mean something to someone someday, and i am so excited for you to start your journey!

[justkeeptrekkin]

erasermic one of them trying (and maybe failing) to create a lava cake so they can have a special lava-cake-date. this can be in canon or chef au.

Anon i had to google what a lava cake is and YUM. I think that’s what we call a chocolate fondant in the UK!!! Anddddd you’ve made me crave one now. So thanks lmao.

I’ve based this on my chef au, because i miss those silly chef boys. Link to the whole fic here!

These walls have seen many culinary failures. Even more culinary successes. They’ve seen the birth of liquorice delights and miso disasters. They’ve almost been burned down by triple-cooked-chips gone wrong, and they’ve had smoothie contents spattered all over them. Over a decade of working in the food industry, and Mic still forgets to put the lid on the blender.

Shouta’s warehouse converted apartment, with its big windows and exposed brick and concrete floors, is no longer Shouta’s- it’s theirs. And for that reason, it’s seen twice as many meals gone wrong.

“Shou. Babe. I swear to god, I swear to fucking god, please do not take it out of the oven. Do not take them out yet.”

“I don’t see why not. It said eight to ten minutes in the recipe.”

“And it’s been seven.”

“And by the time we finish this pointless conversation, it will have been eight, and they’ll be perfect.”

“Ok, sure, they would be, except for the fact that your oven is the biggest piece of crap I’ve ever seen and it makes me want to cry.”

“Our oven. And calm down, they’ll be fine.”

Shouta bends down to peer through the oven window. The fondants have risen a little, not too much, just right. And beside his face, Hizashi taps his foot anxiously, knee bouncing.

“You’re making me nervous,” Shouta says dryly. It’s a lie. It’s fun to tease, though.

“I- well, I sure fuckin’ hope so, my entire life is covered in cocao powder right now and I’m super craving chocolate lava cake, so if they suck and I can’t just, eat all of them one go, I’m blaming you and I’m leaving you forever.”

Shouta peers up at Hizashi with an even expression. He doesn’t think he’s smiling, but it’s not always easy to control that impulse around Hizashi. He looks down at Shouta, brows pinched and pouting, huge puppy dog eyes.

“I’m being serious!” Hizashi folds his arms across his t-shirt- which is, in fact, covered in chocolate mixture- and turns his back to him. “I’ll pack my bags and take my skills elsewhere.”

“And what about our restaurant.”

“You’ll have to find another superstar chef. You’ll have to watch my TV show just to see my face again. And I’ll acquire a really hot assistant so you can sit there and burn with jealousy.”

“Speaking of burning.”

Hizashi’s shoulders rise up to his ears and his spins round, aghast. Dropping to the floor, he nudges Shouta aside slightly so he can look through the window.

Shouta snorts.

“Yo, what the hell, you’re such a liar! They’re fine!”

“My oven’s not that bad. They’re not going to burn in eight minutes, you’re totally gullible.”

“And you’re an ass.”

Shouta laughs properly this time. And Hizashi abruptly smiles back. He likes to play up the flustered, stressed out persona when Shouta teases. It makes it more fun for both of them.

They both look back inside the oven.

Hizashi sighs.

“Fine. Let’s take them out. And if they’re ruined and they collapse and they don’t cook properly I’ll cry.”

“I know.”

Shouta takes the oven gloves and opens the oven door. The smell of chocolate is suddenly overwhelming, and the heat hits his face making his skin tingle. Hizashi’s glasses fog up, as they always do, and there’s nothing Shouta can say to persuade him to switch to contacts. Shouta places the tray on the counter, and for a moment, they both just stare at it. Eight perfect little puddings, a luxurious brown with an ever-so-slight dip in the centre. Steam rolls off of them, and Shouta breathes in the warm scent of cocoa.

“We need to wait for them to cool.” Hizashi says this like he’s in physical pain.

“Yeah.”

They look at each other. And then, Shouta takes a serving board and places it on the tray, tipping it upside down so that the puddings slide out.

Hizashi watches, hands in front of his face in apprehension. “It’s almost too much tension to bear!” he exclaims.

“They’re puddings,” Shouta replies calmly, though he can feel a sense of anticipation settling on his chest. “It’s not a competition.”

But they both know that’s not the case. Because even though this is technically a date- one of the rare occasions they get to escape the restaurant- and even though this is supposed to be a sleepy Saturday afternoon spent in each other’s company, this is a competition. This is a test- who has it right? Is it Shouta, who thinks they should have come out between eight and ten minutes? Or Hizashi, who holds a distrust for their oven?

There’s only one way to find out.

Slowly. Ever so slowly, enough that Shouta thinks that time itself has slowed down, he lifts the baking tray. He holds his breath. Feels a bead of sweat falling down his temple. Hizashi bites his fist, his other hand clinging onto his arm.

And the winner is…

The first pudding collapses in a thick puddle of chocolate.

Shouta growls to himself.

“YES! YES, in your FACE!”

Hizashi is slapping him on the arm excitedly and whooping, punching the air and doing a victory dance that makes Shouta smile to himself as he hangs his head in defeat.

He loves this idiot.

“Oh man, victory tastes so sweet, dude, I- people are going to remember this day.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s gonna be called, ‘Mic shoves an undercooked chocolate pudding directly in Chef Aizawa’s face’ day.”

“I thought you were meant to be sad that they didn’t work. Leaving me forever.”

“Oh you’d like that wouldn’t you.”

“I’d actually prefer it to this.”

Hizashi laughs brightly. Everything he does is bright, and Shouta absent-mindedly tucks a strand of hair behind Hizashi’s ear, before turning his attention back to the puddings.

The first one that came out was a failure. But on further inspection, it looks like four were successful. Their physical integrity seems to be fairly strong, compared to the other four, which have collapsed and caused a river of chocolate on the serving board.

“Still edible,” Shouta remarks.

“Well, I mean, dude. I’m eating it all regardless.”

Hizashi takes out two spoons, and Shouta takes a pinch of salt. He looks to Hizashi for permission, who nods eagerly, and he scatters over the top of the puddings. Nothing better than something sweet with a little bit of salt. Just to balance it all out. And Hizashi makes the most ridiculous noises as he ploughs through one pudding, then the second, whilst Shouta eats silently. They stand at the kitchen counter and polish off over half of it.

The Saturday afternoon light is dimming through the large apartment windows, and Shouta realises it’s probably almost time for dinner. He doesn’t think he can think about any more food for a while.

“Babe?”

“Mm.”

Hizashi holds his spoon in his mouth, brows furrowed in thought, and something else. Nervousness. Shouta waits, suddenly apprehensive. And then the look softens, as if Hizashi’s figured out how to articulate what he wants to say.

“What would you bake with kids?”

Shouta stalls. He blinks at him, trying to figure out where Hizashi’s considerably faster mind is going.

“Kids?”

“Yeah. You know, if you were baking cakes with a kid, what would you make?”

Shouta looks down at the serving board, troughs of chocolate made from their spoons and half-eaten puddings left to cool. He rubs the back of his neck. “I dunno. I guess something like this. It’s… messy, quick. Supposedly easy. Fun.”

He feels Hizashi’s eyes watching him expectantly, spoon back in his mouth like he’s trying to stop his mouth from saying anything else. Shouta rarely sees Hizashi self-conscious of his words, not around him. He doesn’t like it.

“‘Zashi?”

“No, just,” Hizashi shrugs, a huge heave of his shoulders, and waves the spoon about in his hand. “I was just thinking the same. You know. That this kind of thing would be nice to cook with kids.”

Hizashi’s eyes widen at what he’s said, and he stares resolutely at the serving board.

And something in Shouta’s chest explodes. From that point, there’s nothing that can stop Shouta from smiling. Light-headed with disbelief and love for the man silently panicking with a desert spoon stuck in his mouth once more.

“Hizashi,” he says quietly. His partner twitches, looks away. “Hizashi. Are you asking me if I want to have kids?”

Hizashi immediately turns to look at him again, and there’s a shine to his eyes. His lips form a wobbly smile. “I think I am.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m so sure. Like, one thousand percent sure. You’d be the best dad in the world.”

“I. Hizashi, you know I’ve always wanted this, but-”

“Shouta, I’m so ready for this.”

And he hears the sound of a spoon clattering to the floor before he throws his arms around Hizashi, picking him up and spinning him around in the kitchen. Hizashi yelps and squeals in surprise, but eventually wraps arms around his neck and laughs against his shoulder. He could twirl him round like this for hours. He feels rejuvenated. He feels his eyes sting with tears.

When he drops Hizashi back down, Hizashi takes his face in his hands.

“Shouta,” he says seriously.

“Yeah,” he breathes, his face hurting from grinning.

And then Hizashi laughs, looking down at the serving board of chocolate, then back at him. “Our kids are gonna be so unhealthy.”

“Chocolate’s a bean. Beans are healthy, it’s fine.”

The sound of their euphoric laughter fills the room. Shouta kisses him, and his lips taste like chocolate.

[seven-oomen]

First, I hope you’re enjoying your game.  One of my friends posted about how she’d just gotten her copy of it, and her husband’s response was basically “so, I’ll just bring you food occasionally and see you in a few days?"  Also, I hope you’re feeling better.  And man you are KILLING ME with these previews.  Oh god, Peter, what are you planning now?  How bad is this gonna hurt and for how long?  (Don’t answer that, I’m afraid to know. XD )

I think all those Hogwarts Houses are excellent choices.  I always think it’s fun to see how people sort various characters, because I rarely have any that I feel are firmly one House (maybe it’s because I’m a proud HuffleClaw, myself, doomed to waffle between Houses every time I take a quiz or read an analysis on the subject.)  Side not - can you imagine the furor that would have occurred about a Slytherin and a Gryffindor hooking up in Fourth Year (I think?), and then pulling an innocent little Hufflepuff transfer under their spell?  Would any of them have played Quidditch?  (Peter I feel definitely played, though I can’t decide what position.  Undecided on the other two.)

Poor Peter, having to behave himself.  Although debatably as long as he kept the fangs put away it wouldn’t necessarily be a risk, though I can see him being worried anyway.  That’s why he needs to find someone to spin his fur into yarn he can then make them scarves/gloves/sweaters/etc with.  And why he’s so into the clothes sharing.  Anything to get his scent on them as thoroughly as possible.

And I am so here for PTA Dad Peter.  Helping out at school functions so he can keep an eye on the younger kids.  Building new, supportive relationships with his older kids, helping them with college applications and essays, making up lists of stuff they’ll need for dorm rooms, finding apartments if any are going to the same or nearby schools and can share, making sure they all have pictures and mementos to help combat homesickness.  And now I’m thinking about the memory quilt again.  Goddammit I don’t want to make myself cry.  Again.  "Imagine Peter hearing their heartbeats for the first time."  Oh nevermind, I see you’ll do it for me.  Ugh, my feels.  Peter shifting to his wolf form and curling protectively around them all the time, head pressed up to their abdomen so that he can listen and scent at maximum effectiveness.  Them just gently stroking through his fur until one or both fall asleep.  (Also, how quickly do the other wolves in the family pick up on the changes in scent?  How do they react?  How do the older kids react to the idea of more siblings in general?)

And you know that whichever one wasn’t the one pregnant at the time would be super protective at the time, then turn around and insist they were fine and that the others were worrying unnecessarily when they were the one pregnant.  (Also, glad your brother was okay!)  I also like that it apparently took them nearly 20 years to learn about planning for this sort of thing.  I know you’ve mentioned Peter and Chris being the ones that do the stupid thing next chapter (or something to that effect), but really I feel the biggest moment of "what the hell, guys?” is Noah getting knocked up just two months after Chris.  It’s like, you guys had a huge, in your face, live example of why protection is important, and yet…  I’m also just going to assume that they have at least a king size bed to accommodate that many people, even if many of them are tiny people, and none of them mind piling.  That’s still a lot of bodies cramming into one bed.  (That much room would also come in very handy for…other reasons, which is why I feel certain Peter would insist upon it.) 

Also, omg, I was not expecting to be attacked by those pictures like that.  Tag your porn, dude XD .  But really, can you imagine the poor, unsuspecting college friends their kids bring home for visits getting a triple barrel of that with no warning?  Like they’ve just seen the goofy, weird pics that they have on their phone/on their walls.  They were not prepared for the sheer DILF power of that household live and in person.  But then, is anyone, really?

Loving all the names.  I actually know a guy named John who has a son named Jackson, so that one was particularly amusing to me.  I also noticed that none of the kids have been named after anyone in Noah’s family, at least so far.  And don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting to have those spoiled yet, though I’m happy to know you liked some of my suggestions :D .  Now if I could just remember which all ones I went with…  Didn’t really think to put it in anywhere, but for some reason I’ve always liked Alexander as a middle name for Peter, though I remain undecided on the other two.

And yes, loving the idea of more family cosplay.  Oh god, they would never get ANYWHERE at a con because they’d be getting stopped every 3 feet for pictures.  For Star Trek, I feel like they’d do groupings from assorted series and versions.  Chris, Peter, and Noah are totally OS Spock, Kirk, and Bones (Peter with strategically torn shirt, of course).  I think Melissa would be their Uhura, and Natalie would be Yeoman Rand (she wants to see if she can fake the hairstyle), because I dare anyone to tell them they can’t pull off dresses that short.  Since he has sword training from his hunter background, Melissa makes Julio be their Sulu.  Boyd, Derek, and Jordan would be Picard, Riker, and Data (Derek would totally figure out how to do that weird way Riker sits down, too.)  After much debate, I feel Stiles would be Kirk from the recent films (NuTrek, or whatever they call it), Jackson would be Spock, and Malia would be Bones.  I think Lydia would make an excellent Uhura for them, as well.  Scott would be Scotty because he can remember to answer to it, and it gives him an excuse to do a TERRIBLE fake accent.  I’m leaning towards Isaac for their Chekov, but beyond that can’t think what to do with everybody else, I’m not familiar enough with the different tv shows.

Marvel we’ve talked about some.  DC I have a few random ideas.  I always thought it would be funny to see Peter, Derek, Jackson, and Liam do the assorted Robins.  While I feel Peter is DEFINITELY more of a Jason personality wise, I think he’d be far more comfortable in Dick’s costume that Derek would be, and if Derek was Jason the heights would line up better.  Jackson would be Tim, and Liam would be Damian (because who else would play DC’s tiny and angry than TW’s tiny and angry?)  Also, don’t overlook the fun and variety of villains DC offers.  The last group costume I did was a cross between Bill & Ted and assorted Bat-villains.  We called it Bruce & Dick’s Excellent Adventure, and even photoshopped a sign to carry to help people get it.  Among our line-up was Cleo-Catra, Ivybeth the First, The Poison Queen, Harley Antoinette, Joker Napoleon, Freud Nygma, and Bane-thoven.  (I really need to do something with the various pieces of my costume someday.)  I know there are several girls in the Bat-fam now, too, depending on who all wants to be a part of it, or if they want to skew more Justice League/Teen Titans/Young Justice.

Oh man, Disney.  So many options.  I feel like Lydia and Allison as Ariel and Prince Eric is a given.  I also like the idea of Kira and Malia as Belle and the Beast, partially because of Malia’s issues about having to hide her nature, and also because I think she could absolutely rock that suit.  Ben could join them as Chip.  (Stiles would actually make an excellent Belle, but I feel that might just get weird.)  I can see Danny helping Erica rig up a Sleeping Beauty dress with strands of LEDs that keep shifting from pink to blue to green so the dress keeps appearing to change color (it’s a massive hit.)  I don’t know why, but I really want Stiles and Jackson as Elsa and Anna for some reason.  Scott can join them as either Kristoff or Olaf, depending on the mood he’s in.  Can’t quite decide for the other pack kids.  Since the theme is nominally just fairy tales, I think the dads could just opt for a classier, fancier version of their Red Riding Hood looks.  Maybe go for a steampunk edge or something (I would have included links here, but Google was not my friend today and I couldn’t find quite what I wanted.)  Rich velvets and wools in vivid scarlet and forest-y greens, black and deep brown leather and suede, lots of polished buttons and buckles, loose cotton shirts unlaced at the throat.  Mmm, yes.  And Peter could have one of those super fancy Victorian type nightgowns with the long sleeves and high necks made out of super soft and fine materials.  Instead of getting some kind of mask to wear, he’d just do his partial/beta/whatever you want to call it shift and let them add extra fur on with makeup to blend it in.  Everyone just thinks it’s amazing effects work.  He does opt for some cute wolf paw slippers since cons tend to get snotty about people going around barefoot.  (Applying and removing the fur is also how they learn his ears are particularly…sensitive…to a delicate touch in that form.)  

Lord of the Rings.  Yes.  Like, I can’t figure out who or any real details right now but.  Just.  Yes.

I feel like some years they enter the costume contest and some they don’t, just depending on their moods.  (They totally take the Jurassic Park group to a con and people adore it.  It makes for great skits.)

Random bonus thought for the day concerns dancing.  I was thinking about the whole drag queen thing, and whether Jungle was around in the 90s, and it sort of segued into what types of dancers they are.  I feel like Peter is a very good dancer.  Not quite competition level, maybe, but very skilled, nonetheless.  Like Malia, he’s just very comfortable in himself, in all forms, which helps with spatial and bodily awareness, in addition to his natural grace and balance.  I also feel he’s the most likely to have taken, like, ballroom lessons or similar as a kid, maybe at a parent or grandparent’s insistence.  With Noah I keep thinking about the various videos I’ve seen of Dylan dancing both outside of TW and as Stiles, and I feel his dad would have a very similar style of awkward disaster from the chest up, undulations worthy of a harem girl from the waist down (those Stilinski boys tend to leave a lot of confused boners in their wake.)  In Noah’s case, settling into his frame after that last growth spurt and learning self-defense/martial arts helped smooth most of the awkward out, but it resurfaces every so often.  Chris I think would be the least likely to dance, just because I feel his background would make him very self-conscious about it, whether he wants to feel that way or not.  He’ll dance if it’s just the three of them or just family, or for a slow dance, but that’s normally it.  However, if he’s drunk enough, or if Noah or Peter have dragged him into a dark corner to makeout for a while and gotten him all distracted and relaxed, he can be pursued out onto the floor to show off some actually pretty sweet moves once he lets go.

Anyway, gonna try and wrap this up, because I just realized it’s way later than I realized, and I should try and get some sleep at some point.  Enjoy your game, I hope it’s epic!

When this little paragraph made me realize I had a gaping plot hole in this chapter and I got to go back to fix it. My god my friend, you are a lifesaver!

I also like that it apparently took them nearly 20 years to learn about planning for this sort of thing.  I know you’ve mentioned Peter and Chris being the ones that do the stupid thing next chapter (or something to that effect), but really I feel the biggest moment of "what the hell, guys?” is Noah getting knocked up just two months after Chris.  It’s like, you guys had a huge, in your face, live example of why protection is important, and yet…

Because oh yeah I wanted to make it canon that wolves can detect a heartbeat of the embryo at 4-5 weeks. Which is about a week after the heart starts beating. And oh yeah, Chris is two months along by the time Noah gets pregnant... shit. I wrote something else in that flashback.

And now I got to fix that, so cheers!

I also finished writing my chapter today! Yay! All glorious 13K of it. And I’ll be editing and posting tomorrow (or technically later today as it is past midnight.) Oh, I’m so excited, I’m so excited to see what you think!

As for the game, my god it is awesome!!! I played a few hours today but my heart raced so much I had to pause after two hours because I was getting dizzy because of my heart. But it’s a great game so far, very accessible and it just draws me in completely. It’s so good.

Definitely what I needed after my day at work.

hehehe I’m happy to see my previews and writing and getting emotions, it sounds so bad, but that makes me smile because it’s getting the desired response and that’s awesome. 

“Cue Lego Movie music”

can you imagine the furor that would have occurred about a Slytherin and a Gryffindor hooking up in Fourth Year (I think?), and then pulling an innocent little Hufflepuff transfer under their spell?  Would any of them have played Quidditch?  (Peter I feel definitely played, though I can’t decide what position.  Undecided on the other two.)

I think Peter would’ve been a chaser or beater, somehow those seem to fit him well. Noah played but he was a keeper. (which would be funny if Peter was a chaser since they would get to battle lover’s disputes on the quidditch pitch) Chris I feel wouldn’t play quidditch, he’s too busy trying to keep track of his studies and really just likes to watch the sport but not participate. I think he’d be more into care of magical creatures and defends against the dark arts than any kind of sport. Though he does join and excel at the dueling club.

And the scandal of Peter and Noah dating from fourth year on would be massive, people can barely wrap their heads around it. But they’re happy and they’re just doing their own thing. And they don’t pay attention to anyone else but what they think and what Chris thinks of them.

Peter shifting to his wolf form and curling protectively around them all the time, head pressed up to their abdomen so that he can listen and scent at maximum effectiveness.  Them just gently stroking through his fur until one or both fall asleep.  (Also, how quickly do the other wolves in the family pick up on the changes in scent?  How do they react?  How do the older kids react to the idea of more siblings in general?)

<3 <3 it’s honestly an adorable image. The twins are very active when dad’s curled up around them, knowing just where to kick so Peter’s wakes up by a foot to the face. Though he doesn’t mind and just nudges back gently, letting out a low grumbling noise or whine that he knows the babies can hear in utero. As for how quickly, it depends on whether or not they smelled it before. Jackson, Ben, or Scott wouldn’t pick up on it. They weren’t wolves around pregnancies before. Malia and Derek catch on quickly though. They start noticing the scent change at around 5-6 weeks and hear the little heartbeats of the new family members.

Malia is moderately excited, she’s a little worried about her dad and how he will handle pregnancy at his age. (Although he’s like 35 when he gets pregnant, that counts as a geriatric pregnancy, dad... I’m worried.)

Stiles just flips between the two of extreme worry where he read up on pre-eclampsia and other pregnancy complications and birth complications and omg what if that happens. But he’s also so so excited because omg he’s finally gonna be an older brother!!

(He knows he’s Ben’s older brother, and he adores the tyke, but it’s different when you have a pregnancy close instead of a five-year-old sibling from one day to another.)

Jackson is pouty and a bit grumpy. He feels like he’s losing baby status in the family more and more and he doesn’t know how to deal. (Ben was a bit difficult to get used to for him but Chris handled it well by setting time aside for his baby Jackson. It helped. But now he’s a teen and there’s going to be two more babies and he’s- he doesn’t know how to feel. When Chris breaks the news he wants to have another baby he’s even more torn but he does come around, deciding that he will always be the baby of the family, even when he’s not.

It’s a good compromise. And the three parents set some time for each of their kids so everyone gets attention.

Allison handles it the best out of the teens, she’s very excited for all of them and immediately to volunteers helping with decorating the new nursery. She paints a few awesome looking murals of Winnie the Pooh or Bambi or some other cutesy Disney animals (Or maybe even a space/star wars or a fairy tale ala Fables theme?) and just goes all out. She also convinces Malia to quilt a blanket for the new baby and helps her knit a few cute hats. She’s just extremely excited and happy.

Ben is very happy too, he’s finally not the youngest anymore and he’s happy to be an older brother. He also finds it fascinating to learn how pregnancy works and how those babies got in there in the first place. They let him tell them how it works and explain some basic details, sperm, egg, you need both to have a baby and the baby grows in pops and papa’s belly. But they leave out any details that Ben doesn’t figure out or doesn’t ask about to keep it more age-appropriate for him. 

Though Ben’s smart and he figures out a lot on his own. Noah and Peter are honestly impressed by Ben’s deductive skills. They knew Jackson and Stiles had them, but they hadn’t expected Ben to show them too. He’s a quiet observer.

They were not prepared for the sheer DILF power of that household live and in person.  But then, is anyone, really?

Honestly, I don’t think anyone is. Nobody can resist the sheer DILF power.

Since the theme is nominally just fairy tales, I think the dads could just opt for a classier, fancier version of their Red Riding Hood looks.  Maybe go for a steampunk edge or something (I would have included links here, but Google was not my friend today and I couldn’t find quite what I wanted.)  Rich velvets and wools in vivid scarlet and forest-y greens, black and deep brown leather and suede, lots of polished buttons and buckles, loose cotton shirts unlaced at the throat.  Mmm, yes.  And Peter could have one of those super fancy Victorian type nightgowns with the long sleeves and high necks made out of super soft and fine materials.  Instead of getting some kind of mask to wear, he’d just do his partial/beta/whatever you want to call it shift and let them add extra fur on with makeup to blend it in.  Everyone just thinks it’s amazing effects work.  He does opt for some cute wolf paw slippers since cons tend to get snotty about people going around barefoot.  (Applying and removing the fur is also how they learn his ears are particularly…sensitive…to a delicate touch in that form.)  

I- this whole thing? yes. Headcanon accepted because it is that good. I can literally just see them going in steampunk hunter, red riding hood and the wolf. thank you for putting that image in my mind XD

I feel like Peter is a very good dancer.  Not quite competition level, maybe, but very skilled, nonetheless.  Like Malia, he’s just very comfortable in himself, in all forms, which helps with spatial and bodily awareness, in addition to his natural grace and balance.  I also feel he’s the most likely to have taken, like, ballroom lessons or similar as a kid, maybe at a parent or grandparent’s insistence.  With Noah I keep thinking about the various videos I’ve seen of Dylan dancing both outside of TW and as Stiles, and I feel his dad would have a very similar style of awkward disaster from the chest up, undulations worthy of a harem girl from the waist down (those Stilinski boys tend to leave a lot of confused boners in their wake.)  In Noah’s case, settling into his frame after that last growth spurt and learning self-defense/martial arts helped smooth most of the awkward out, but it resurfaces every so often.  Chris I think would be the least likely to dance, just because I feel his background would make him very self-conscious about it, whether he wants to feel that way or not.  He’ll dance if it’s just the three of them or just family, or for a slow dance, but that’s normally it.  However, if he’s drunk enough, or if Noah or Peter have dragged him into a dark corner to makeout for a while and gotten him all distracted and relaxed, he can be pursued out onto the floor to show off some actually pretty sweet moves once he lets go.

Malia definitely inherited Peter’s dancing skills, I like to think Jackson did as well. Those three are the best dancers in the family. They just move with natural ease. 

Allison is a decent dancer, her gymnastics training really helps but she’s not as fluent as her brother, sister, or dad.

I feel like Noah and Stiles have awkward flailing down to a T but every once in awhile there’s a hip movement worthy of a fucking professional dancer and it’s very confusing. But yeah, totally agree with that assessment of them.

Chris isn’t much of a dancer and neither is Ben. Both of them are very self-conscious. Chris gets better when he’s drunk because he let’s go of insecurity but even then it’s not great. He just doesn’t dance, it’s not his thing. Although he was a very good grinding and hip rotation move. He’s also pretty good at jump style once he lets himself go and just turns his mind off. but the rhythmic jumping just feels natural to him. He also likes to slow dance since he can just bury his face in Noah’s shoulder or nuzzle Peter’s cheek and just forget about everything else.

Also, I like to think they all love to sing. Chris’s voice is best suited for country I feel like. Noah’s more for singer-songwriter. And Peter just loves singing pop songs and he knows how to hit some high notes. 

And now I am going to bed because It’s almost three am XD And I need some sleeps. Thankfully I have the day off this sunday.

[forestwater87]

Gwenvid Week Day 5

Day 5: Community Appreciation / Favorite AU

To celebrate the amazing Gwenvid community, I took the really fascinating Ghoul AU that @color-theorist (or @color-theorist-art ) created, which has no explicit Gwenvid as of yet, and then somehow accidentally created several pages of momgwen with very little Gwenvid in it. Oops. And probably fucked up the lore. Double oops. Oh well, I hope y’all have fun anyway! :)

It wasn’t anything like Buffy, was the first thing Gwen realized about fighting monsters.

For one thing, it was a lot less fighting -- she wasn’t exactly built for dealing out pain -- and a lot more researching. And not in weathered tomes blanketed with a thick layer of dust with crinkled pages full of secrets. Sure, there was some of that, but ghouls in particular seemed to be a relatively new phenomenon, or were just so uninteresting to the ancients that they didn’t bother writing about them. Mostly it involved trawling internet forums and trying to arrange interviews with the leads who seemed the most promising. Which in itself required a great deal of convincing paranoid heroin addicts that she was neither a ghoul intent on devouring their flesh or a member of the government who would haul them off to Super Guantanamo. All that work, only to have her work dismissed by every publisher she’d recommended it to, and a pointed recommendation by the History Department chair that it would be best for her career at Sleepy Peak Community College if she found another subject to focus her studies on.

“‘It’s really all about the branding,’” she mimicked quietly, shifting her weight in a futile attempt to get comfortable. ”’Just call it “folklore.”’ That’s academically dis-fucking-honest, Mr. Bishop.” Gwen grabbed her bag from where it was dangling off the arm of a marble angel and hauled out a binder and a flashlight. “I’m the only professor under thirty who hasn’t gotten the fuck out of here after three months, Mr. Bishop. This shitty school wouldn’t even have a goddamn newspaper if it wasn’t for me, Mr. Bishop. Fuck, this is cold,” she muttered, glaring down at the polished granite with distaste before sliding down onto the grass, leaning back against the tombstone she’d just climbed off of. “I’m doing important work, here.”

Gwen opened the binder, eyeing the hand-drawn map of the Long Sleep Cemetery and tracing the scraggly line of bright red X’s that marked out fourteen ravaged graves, then flipping to a map of the entire city, which was covered in yellow dates around the church, hospital, and veterinary clinic. She glanced from these to the mausoleum she was staking out, like the ghoul would just appear there if she looked hard enough.

“Come on, asshole,” she said, flopping back against the tombstone and turning off the flashlight. “I know I did this right, so just show up where you’re supposed to.”

It was crazy, she knew all that. Knew her meticulous tracking of local robberies and vandalism looked from the outside like the scribblings of a madwoman fraying her last nerve. It was why she took so much care in repackaging every piece of evidence into a series of respectable, ponderous, academic -- boring, if she was being perfectly honest with herself -- books.

A series of respectable, academic, unpublished books.

Because this was all crazy. Believing in undead monsters that needed to consume the living (or recently-dead) was crazy. Objectively, she was probably rather crazy.

The thing was, she was right.

She just had to find a way to prove it.

“You’re not good at this, are you?”

Gwen jumped at the voice and whipped around, brandishing her flashlight in one hand and her binder in the other -- before she overbalanced and had to drop both, catching herself before she fell flat on her back in the dew-drenched grass. “Whaatherfucke --”

So. Not much like Buffy at all.

Her attacker was thin, stretched out and lanky like a very short Slenderman. As he stepped around the gravestone and moved towards her, his eyes reflected the light from a nearby streetlamp like a cat’s, gleaming out from underneath the dark hoodie that obscured most of his features.

Human eyes don’t glow like that.

She snatched up her flashlight and flicked it back on; she tried not to shine it in his face, but he flinched away from it anyway, hunching his shoulders and shoving his hands into his sweatshirt pocket. The light revealed a narrow brown face that was sickly yellow underneath the eyes and nearly gray in the hollows of his cheekbones. “Kids aren’t supposed to be out after ten pm,” she said, narrowing her eyes. She took in the teenager’s slouchy grace, the way he walked as though every movement was both naturally easy and indescribably exhausting.

“No one’s supposed to be in the graveyard after it closes, but that didn’t stop you,” he replied, slumping against the marble angel and watching her with those unnerving catlike eyes.

She’d found her ghoul.

Gwen drew herself up, standing so she could look down at him. “I have permission,” she lied. “I’m conducting research on the series of grave-robbings in the last few wee --”

“My dad’s a cop with really shitty password protection. You don’t have permission for shit.” He wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie. “You’re one of those nuts who wants to hunt vampires.”

“Ghouls aren’t vampires,” she corrected before she could stop herself, the pedantic need to be right temporarily overpowering her common sense. “Blood is evidently not an essential component of their diet, and -- you know what, this is a stupid conversation and I’m not having it.” She settled back against her tombstone and turned her gaze to the mausoleum her ghoul was supposed to be raiding instead of making snide comments about her profession. “Go get your dead person snack.”

The kid jolted, and she watched his look of horror out of the corner of her eye. “How the fuck --” He shook his head, a shock of floppy black hair escaping the hoodie and falling over one of his eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

She pulled her binder back into her lap with a small grunt of effort. Christ, this thing was getting heavy. “Whoever’s been raiding the cemetery’s been really smart about it,” she said, refusing to look up at him. “Always hits it just as the attention is beginning to die down -- pardon the pun -- and always far enough from the others that the area is totally isolated. But they do it without making it look like a pattern.” She glanced up at him, a little gratified to see him leaning over her map curiously. So this was what validation felt like! “I’d been wondering how they knew when to sneak back in here, but . . . having a dad in the police force might do it, if the cop was dumb enough.” She turned to another section of her notes, an alphabetical list of everyone in the SPPD. “I knew I should’ve paid more attention to their families,” she mumbled, flipping through the officers. “Which of you is the idiot with an undead son?”

“Hey, fuck you!” he snapped, stepping away from the binder and back to the marble angel. “You can’t just go around calling people monsters because they’re wandering around a graveyard. Hell, that makes you sound just as much like one of those things as me.”

Gwen ticked off on her fingers without looking up from the police directory: “Alarmingly thin, glowing eyes, a bit of a nasty undead pallor -- bet people are constantly asking if you’re sick --”

“Again, fuck you.”

“-- and a tricky-but-predictable pattern of raiding cemeteries, morgues, and . . . have you been eating dead animals?” She glanced up at him then with a frown. “I didn’t know ghouls could do that.”

“They can’t,” he muttered, kicking at the grass, “but it was worth a shot.”

She couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pride. This was her first legitimate monster sighting! She wasn’t crazy! “It’s all circumstantial, of course. You never really know if you’ve got a ghoul or just someone with, like, lupus. But the cat-eye thing was a big tip off. Also, you know, hanging out in the cemetery when no one in their right minds would go anywhere near the place.” He looked at her for a long moment, and she cringed. “Yes, fine, I heard it.”

“So you’re like an expert in useless information no one gives a shit about, huh?”

She thought about getting offended, but he was kind of right. At least, a boatload of publishers would agree with him. “Yeah . . .”

He looked back over at the mausoleum thoughtfully, and she couldn’t help but be curious. “Does it taste good when it’s been dead for a while?” she asked. She was sorely tempted to grab her pencil and notebook, but that might scare the kid off. “I’ve read it’s not supposed to be as . . .” Nutritious just felt gross, in this context, so she let the sentence trail off.

He shrugged. “A little bland, but I kinda like it better. Got this weird kind of . . . cheesy aftertaste? Not like I’ve had cheese since I was a kid, but like that really smelly stuff rich people put on everything.”

“That’s pretty disgusting.” She couldn’t quite keep the note of appreciation out of her voice. (She’d always been a sucker for gory movies.) “So what’s with the change?”

“What’re you talking about?”

That was in her other binder. Gwen rustled through her backpack until she found the right one and opened it up to a spread of newspaper clippings. “All the killings. Two this week, three in the last two months. I haven’t put a map together yet --” and god, she already felt tired thinking about it, “-- but they don’t seem to have any sort of pattern. I figure it can’t be you because, well, all my research suggests that if you were eating fresh kills you’d be a lot more . . .” She gestured vaguely at him. “Alive-looking.”

He bared his teeth, and if they were sharper-looking than normal she was almost positive that was just her imagination. “You don’t have a lot of friends, do you?”

She didn’t, but that was beside the point. “So do you know who’s doing this?” she asked, scrambling to her knees and finally giving in to the urge to grab her pen. “Can you tell me? I interned as a police sketch artist, so even if you just describe them I bet I could --”

“You expect me to narc?”

“They’re killing people!”

“Eh, I --”

“Max?”

They were both blinded; squinting past the flashlight, Gwen could barely make out a male figure. The newcomer lowered the light, stepping forward. His eyebrows drew together as he took in the scene: a kid lounging on a tombstone, having a conversation with a woman kneeling in the damp grass surrounded by open books and binders. “What are you doing out here? You know it’s past curfew!”

The ghoul -- Max, it seemed -- rolled his eyes and sighed. “It’s not like you’re gonna arrest me. I just saw this weird lady sneaking into the graveyard and wanted to see what she was doing.”

As surreptitiously as she could, Gwen glanced down at the list of police officers in her lap, comparing the smiling photos to the grim-faced man shaking his head at Max. Officer David E. Greenwood. On the force for about ten years. According to some gossip she’d scribbled in the margin, he’d turned down the opportunity to become a detective a few years ago, holding onto his lower-paying desk job for the sake of his --

His son.

“Miss?” Greenwood waved the flashlight, dragging her attention back to the conversation. “I’m going to need to ask you to leave the --”

“Yeah, fine,” she grumbled, shoving her work back into her bag. “You know, I should get a special pass or something for doing research,” she said, more to herself than to the officer.

He cocked his head to the side, looking for all the world like a big puppy wearing a police badge. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t do anything like that, but I’d be very interested in learning what you’re researching!” He frowned. “Actually, you look familiar . . .”

“I used to be the department intern,” she said with a shrug. She was a little older than Greenwood, so it wasn’t like he’d have been working there to remember --

“Oh, Gwen! Yes, of course I’ve heard all about you!” He took a step forward, like he was about to wrap her up in a hug, before his smile dimmed a bit and he coughed lightly into his fist. “Mr. Campbell speaks very highly of you! He’s been saying he wishes more people would be willing to work for no money, but I’m sure he just meant that you did such a fantastic job! You work at the college now, right? You know, I’ve been meaning to take some classes but I just haven’t had the time --”

“Dad,” Max interrupted, “it’s cold as fuck. Can we just go?”

“Right! Sorry, Max.” He shot his son -- though they really looked nothing alike -- an apologetic grin before turning the smile toward her. “If you’ll just follow me, ma’am. Goodness, isn’t it lovely out here at night? Sometimes I wish . . .”

When they were outside, Max broke through Greenwood’s stream of pleasantries. “Hey, can I talk to her for a second before we go?” When they both shot him a confused, surprised look, he shoved his hands in his hoodie pocket, hunching his shoulders defensively. “What? We were in the middle of a conversation.”

Greenwood hummed thoughtfully, glancing between the two of them. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Gwen.” He shook her hand enthusiastically.

“You too, officer.”

“Please, call me David!” He winked, then strolled along the outer cemetery wall until he was well out of earshot, his hands clasped behind his back like a military at-ease. Max scuffed his shoe along the asphalt; Gwen had dealt with enough students to know not to push him, so she watched the clouds slide like molasses along the sky and waited.

“You know a lot about this stuff, huh? Like, it’s useless, but you still have a lot of research.” She nodded, watching curiosity wage war with misanthropy across his face. Finally he blurted out, “So can I read some of it sometime? I mean, it’s probably mostly bullshit, but . . .”

She’d given up on carrying copies of her books around with her, on the off chance that someone might be interested if it came up in conversation. “I’m usually on campus at noon,” she said. “Stop by my office. I’ve got a couple things you could borrow.” She fought to keep the eagerness out of her voice, but the thought of her self-bound books actually being read by someone was way too exciting.

Even if that someone was a moody undead kid with the most improbable home life she’d ever heard of.

He nodded, a little awkwardly, and started to walk away before she put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, are you gonna be all right without eating?”

He shrugged. “Isn’t the first time.”

Gwen hesitated. It could get so so fired, but . . . “Listen, I work some nights at the hospital morgue. Just like, processing bodies and stuff.”

“I thought you were a professor.”

She sighed. “Adjunct,” she admitted. “Only part time. Anyway, I can’t always . . . like obviously we’d have to be really careful, and there’s no real good way to . . . but if there’s actual murderous ghouls around you probably shouldn’t be so hungry they’ll kick your ass or something --”

“How did you make offering help come out so insulting?” Max sounded impressed. He glanced over his shoulder at David, then raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. “We’ll work something out, yeah. Beats digging up coffins all night.”

David meandered back in their direction. “Would you like to be walked home, Miss Gwen? It’s not safe to be out alone at this time of night.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, sure.”

She knew how dangerous it was. Had written hundreds of pages on the subject, in fact.

But it was nice, for the first time in her life, to feel like she’d actually accomplished something useful.

“Dad wants you to come over for dinner again.”

Gwen jumped; Max had an infuriating tendency to just appear in doorways without a sound, usually when she was deep in concentration doing something else. She thought maybe he enjoyed scaring her. “I have class tonight,” she said, taking the book he held out, “but tell him thanks.”

Max slouched into the chair on the other side of her desk, watching her dig through her books for the next one in the series. Over the past few weeks he’d been going through her research, and while his habit of writing corrections or commentary in the margins -- with pen, no less! -- was unbelievably annoying, she was making more progress in two months than she had in years. “Second time this week,” he observed.

It took her a second to realize what he was saying. “Huh? Oh, yeah, I appreciate it. Seriously, make sure you thank him for me.” Dinners with Max and David were a little awkward, mostly because only David seemed to really want to be there, but it certainly beat microwave dinners in front of her computer.

“I think he likes you.”

She made a dismissive noise. “He likes everyone,” she said. In fact, she’d made it a personal goal to hear him say something unkind about somebody. It was unsuccessful so far, but she had faith. She handed him the next book, watching him turn it over in his hands appraisingly with something almost like nervousness. It was one thing to have someone read your life’s work -- it was quite another when the person reading your work was also literally the subject of it.

“So you’re gonna stop by after class, right?”

“I -- no?” Sure, sometimes Gwen did, if she’d forgotten to give Max something or if David’s texts had seemed especially plaintive; she got the sense that his life wasn’t as sunshine-and-rainbows as he tried to make it seem, and watching TV or sitting out on the porch after Max had disappeared into his room wasn’t much of a sacrifice. But it wasn’t a habit or anything. “Maybe I have shit to do.”

He snorted. “No you don’t.”

She didn’t, but she didn’t need to be reminded of the life she didn’t have by an obnoxious kid who literally had no life.

When she didn’t respond he stood up, tucking her book under his arm. “So I’ll tell Dad you’ll be by after class. And I’m gonna be at Neil’s tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow. “So?”

“Ugh, don’t make me say it. It’s fucking gross.”

Gwen watched Max lope out of her office, wondering if he was aware that he’d just told her his father was lonely. And that it worried him.

“For fuck’s sake, just go out already!”

Her pen jerked a scraggly line across the paper, jagged and uneven like the sudden spike in her heart rate. “Why can’t you knock, you shitty excuse for a Halloween monster?” she growled, shoving her notebook aside and glaring up at him.

He set her book on her desk with surprising gentleness for someone who reportedly didn’t care about anything. “First, Dad is so goddamn annoying, and if I have to hear him talk about how ‘sweet that Miss Gwen is, don’t you think so, Max?’ one more time I’m gonna eat him. Second, it’d probably be easier to sneak me food if you were dating, since it’d be less weird for me to hang out with my stepmom.”

“I’m not going to ask David out so it’s easier for you to feed,” she said, bristling at “stepmom.”

“No, you’re gonna do it because you keep staring at him like a creep whenever you think he’s not looking. That’s third, by the way,” he continued, holding up three fingers. “The only thing more annoying than him being all moony and stupid is you being all moony and stupid.”

“That . . .” is not true was on the tip of her tongue, but somehow she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. The problem was, she’d gotten accustomed to spending more evenings a week at the Greenwoods’ house than her own, and had started to find it more comforting. Which didn’t mean that she was interested in David, of course, but she’d been . . . surprised, by him.

By his genuine interest in her, and his support of her research even though it clearly made him uneasy. (Which was fair; “hey I think those murders you’re investigating are undead monsters” was a pretty uncomfortable thing to talk about, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to listen.)

By how he remembered stupid little things, like her favorite foods, and how even when he was thoughtless and absent-minded it never seemed to piss her off the way it should.

By his horrible sense of humor and his worse taste in TV shows. By how his eyelashes were longer than hers, and framed his eyes so prettily. By the freckles she could only see when they were sitting thigh-to-thigh on the couch, or when he pulled her in for a goodnight hug. By --

Well, fuck.

“Everyone I know is a fucking idiot,” Max groaned, tugging her out of her heart-attack-inciting epiphany. He ran his hands through his hair -- glossy and sleek because he’d eaten last night; everything about him was glowing and lively compared to usual, making him look almost human -- and stood. “Don’t even bother getting me the next book. You can drop it off with Dad tonight.”

“But he didn’t invite me to dinn --” She cut herself off at the look of pure exasperation he gave her, one that implied he couldn’t even deign that with a response.

“Fucking idiots,” he muttered, slipping out of her office.

“Okay, I know I basically made this happen because you’re both too dumb to function, but I’m hating every second of this. I take it all back.”

David practically leapt out of Gwen’s chair, almost knocking her out of his lap and face-first into a concussion courtesy of the corner of her desk. “M-Max! What are you doing here?!”

She just sighed, adjusting her position so she wasn’t in danger of falling and brushing her hair out of her eyes. “He does this.”

“I’m a student, Dad. I belong here.” He held up the binder -- Gwen’s most recent book in the making -- with a sharp, sarcastic grin. He was looking a little gray and drawn, and she made a mental note to grab him some intestines or something that wouldn’t be missed at work that night. When he was looking sick like this, his inhumanness stood out in stark relief, like the crisp lines of his teeth that were too big and too pointy for his supposedly-human mouth.

“In high school! Why aren’t you in class?”

He shrugged. “Lunch break,” he said. Gwen and David exchanged a look, because neither of them knew if that was true. It’d been a while since either of them had been students, after all. Dropping the binder on Gwen’s desk, he retreated to the door like he was afraid to coming too close to them. “What’re you doing here, anyway?”

“Um . . . lunch break,” David replied weakly, his face flushing.

Gwen picked up a stress ball and lightly tossed it at Max’s head. “Get out of here, you little shit.”

“I hate you both. See you at dinner,” he said casually, ducking out of the office and letting the door bang shut behind him.

David sighed, shaking his head. “Do you think he looks sick, Gwen? I’m worried he’s coming down with something.”

She winced. “Probably a 24-hour bug. Bet he’ll be fine tomorrow,” she said, ducking her face into the crook of his neck and kissing behind his ear. Sometimes she couldn’t fathom how someone who knew about ghouls could miss the fact that his own son was one.

But then again, David wasn’t an academic, and he certainly wasn’t trained in this kind of thing. And he had a tendency to ignore red flags when it came to people he cared about.

It was one of the things she loved most about him.

[runningwolf62]

@wardencommanderrodimiss @pachelbelsheadcanon

The new chapter is here featuring emotional whiplash and allegiances finally.

On AO3

What happens next is a series of incidents so coincidental and yet so perfectly aligned Larry would be tempted to call it fate. He had headed to a book store to chill and he would swear he’d just gone in to look for a book for Nick or Edgey as a Christmas present. Nothing dramatic, he’d just been caught up on his word count for the day and he’d wanted to shop and treat himself and get things out of the way so he didn’t come out of December confused and lacking presents for anyone.

And while he was there he’d remembered his promise to himself to get Tallstar’s Revenge, after WolfDragon had recommended it. So there he was in the children’s section, looking through the Warrior cats section - which he had half a mind to sort because someone respected neither series nor numbers and honestly it was a disaster trying to find anything, was this supposed to be alphabetical, because he was not going to find Tallstar’s Revenge at all like this - when the book caught his eye.

The Magic Bottle.

A simple title really, but the art on the cover was beautiful. Larry abandoned the Warrior Cats books for a moment to pick up this one, whoever the cover artist was they were fantastic at their job because Larry was for sure curious now. He flipped it over to scan the back, and cracked it open.

Well it turned out Elise Deauxnim could both write and draw, and Larry was enthralled. God where had she been when he was a kid, this shit was fantastic. He ended up buying it and after asking a worker, maybe making an excuse of shopping for a niece (listen that was the simplified version of what Pearl was and if he liked the book this much he might tell Nick to get it for her for Christmas so you know, valid) he also got Tallstar’s Revenge.

Now Tallstar’s Revenge was great, especially by Warrior standards, but he kept coming back to The Magic Bottle, the art, the characters, the pacing, it was fantastic. It made him want to write kid’s books.

Why not? You’re a really good writer and it’s not like you’re unfamiliar with kid’s lit

Thanks!

But she’s super good and I wouldn’t even know where to begin!

Stripes stop selling yourself short you’re a fantastic writer

Stripes?

I’ve mentally called you that for years deal with it

I guess it beats Orange.

“Graypaw what have I told you about talking to basketballs”

What?

Okay I’m sending you that parody as soon as I find a link to it but you should go for it! You’re talented currently inspired also unemployed

Thanks

Hey, I meant now more than ever is your chance

So what should I do?

Google this author see what else she’s written and maybe write her some fan mail

“Hi I’m a twenty-something dude, huge fan”

Look Mr. smartass if you don’t want my help

I’m just worried I’ll come off as weird!

Then lie, say it was for a nephew or something and you were really impressed too and it made you want to try writing children’s lit, how did she get started

Think she’ll answer?

She might

Worth a try

Well I did read it so only fair I review it.

Atta boy, go get ‘em

Larry grins to himself and does exactly as Wolf suggested, googling Elise Deauxnim to find that she had a PO Box. With some help and a little more encouragement from Wolf, he sends off the letter. Then he tries to calm down by focusing on his NaNo, which is mostly just him writing oneshots and a chapter or two of the fic. He hasn’t brought in Godot yet because he’s not sure what the absolute hell is going on there and he doesn’t like thinking about that day in court. He keeps sending out his resume but after how he lost his last job he’s thinking it’s a good thing he has as much in savings as he does, and he’s thinking about emergency commissions.

Until the letter arrives. He’s not sure he believes what he’s seeing but a photo sent to Wolf on discord proves that not only did Elise Deauxnim not think he was a creepy loser, she was encouraging him. She wanted to see some of his art and writing so she could tell him where he might find some agents interested in him.

DUDE

RIGHT I’M FREAKING OUT RIGHT NOW!

AGGHHHH!

That’s amazing!

AGGGHHH!

I told you you were an amazing author

OH GOD WHAT DO I SEND HER

Not the Warriors Fanfic

OBVIOUSLY

Look, take a deep breath, and like, think of a story

Doesn’t have to be great, just some kids story thing

Do some art with it

Oh god, dude that’s terrifying, every idea I had just vanished.

Alright, listen you don’t have to write the damn thing just the first three pages of something

Uh, what are kids into these days?

Great question

I’m super good at drawing cats, what do I do with that?

Write Warriors but gay

Don’t we call that Wings of Fire?

Shots fired

More seriously, what do I do with that?

Well you’re good with a very open world series with a set of rules that is easily adapted to a setting

And cat anatomy

So I’d take those elements and make it into something

That’s a horrifying Chimera.

…

You know, that could be a plot hook

What?

Well like kids love monsters right?

Write a series with a Chimera as the main character, it’s part lion

Dude, you’re a genius, I owe you my life, and the response of “no thanks I’ve seen it, I don’t want it” is probably valid

Well get to it writer-boy, you’ll do great

What he ends up with is a book series about various mythological monsters on an adventure, and an offer from Elise Deauxnim to be an apprentice under her. He says yes, of course. He moves out of his apartment and to a smaller and cheaper one closer to where she works.

It’s awkward at first, on both ends. He can tell he’s not what she expected but he tries. She helps him with his writing, telling him what his strengths are first and then slowly moving to where he needs some polishing. It’s still strained though.

The breakthrough comes one afternoon, when Larry’s phone alarm goes off. He reaches over, swipes it off, and then flips the sketchbook page he’s on to start drawing something else.

Elise, - she insist he call her Elise which is weird to him but she’s a firm but matronly woman and so he obeys – looks up at the sound.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers a quick sheepish grin but she only looks more confused.

“Did you force yourself to get a drawing complete in a certain amount of time? You know that won’t make it turn out well.”

“Oh, no,” Larry flips back to the previous drawing to show her that it’s far from complete, “I got art block so rather than sit here and think about how I had the perfect image if I could only draw it for the next hour I worked on something else for ten minutes.”

“You’re quite talented at drawing cats,” she remarks, and Larry grins.

“I’d hope after how long I’ve been drawing them.”

“So this ten minutes of drawing, does it help?”

“Kind of yeah,” Larry pulls his sketch book back to him, looking at the sketch of Cherrywing and Spiritstar, he should draw Maya and Mia sometime. Maybe- no probably not for Christmas but at some point he should. “It forces me to relax and focus on something else, and get the creative juices flowing while I work on something that’s just for me so there’s no pressure or anything. That’s why I can only do it for ten minutes or I’d never get any actual work done!”

“That’s very clever,” she’s focusing on him now and Larry can only shrug, it’s just something that’s worked for him.

“Are those your cats?”

Oh no.

“Uh no, they’re-” he scrambles for a moment, “they’re just cats.”

Elise looks at him with a look of doubt but doesn’t press, instead she turns her focus on the picture, her eyes softening as she looks at Spiritstar and Cherrywing sitting together, “you have a real talent for capturing the emotion of a scene, there’s something very peaceful and loving about it, even for a sketch.”

Larry blinks in surprise, “thank you!” That was very much what he had been going for and he was pleased that he had succeeded at such.

Elise smiles at him, “you have such a talent for landscapes too, the nature looks natural while still framing them.”

Larry rubs the back of his neck with a grin, “now you’re going to give me an ego,” he jokes but he hopes she understands how grateful he is.

By the way she looks at him she does.

-

Merry Christmas Nick!!

merry xmas

 Hey Maya, Merry Christmas!

Message failed to send.

Figures.

Message failed to send.

-

You okay man?

I

I appreciate your concern Larry but yes, I am fine

If you need to call just let me know

Before you joke yes I’m single this Christmas

That’s a kind offer but I am with my sisters

THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?!?

Her daughter has a dog named Phoenix

Holy shit

Quite

-

Merry Christmas Stripes!

Merry Christmas Wolfman!

-

Larry has to say, having your mentor frame and hang your finished and signed piece because she likes it so much is like having your parents hang art on the fridge but somehow a thousand times better.

They spend the winter working, her on her story and on helping Larry grow as an artist and writer and working on her own story.

Larry helps where he can with that, mostly by trying not to bother her when she looks busy but she does ask him to do some illustrations for her, citing his abilities with landscapes. He accepts and pours his heart and soul into it.

SHE’S GOING TO HATE IT

NO SHE WON’T JUST GIVE IT TO HER

AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHH

Dude

Fine! Fine!

You’ve got this, you’re a really good artist and you’ve said she’s proud of you

As she should be

So you’ve got this

Thanks man

Go get it writer-boy

You gonna buy my book Wolfman

Of course

Larry can’t help but smile at that.

But you’ve got to publish it first

Rude.

Larry tucks his phone into his pocket and hands the portfolio over to Elise. She accepts them with a smile and begins to flip through them, seeming oblivious to Larry’s nervous shuffling. She pauses at one and studies while Larry does his best to not explode or start nervously babbling.

“These are beautiful,” she remarks and Larry can feel his shoulders sag in relief, “you’ve done fantastic work.”

“Thank you, I went to the park a lot to try and get all the details right.”

“It shows,” she continues to leaf through them, Larry feels more confident so he begins to point to details he feels proud of or wants to make sure she notices.

“These are just the illustrations my book needed if you’ll allow me to use them.”

“I, uh, yes!” Larry stares at her eyes about to jump out of his skull, wait until he tells Nick! He’s successful now, look at him!

Elise laughs fondly and hands them back, “hold on to these and let me talk to my agent but that’s exactly the kind of work I couldn’t find anywhere else, your watercolor style is just what I needed.”

Larry is going to cry and just manages to thank her long enough for him to slip out and tell Wolf everything.

I’m proud of you Stripes

I’m proud of me! I feel like I’m really making myself a new person!

He’s tempted to also tell Nick but he decides to wait. To drop the book on Nick’s desk at his office. That’s how he’ll do it.

Okay so get this

Yeah?

Apparently my last name “can’t be taken seriously by publishers”.

And I thought elementary school kids were hurtful.

Oh my god

So she’s going to have me use her last name.

WHAT

Her publisher loves the idea too.

Makes me look like family.

Which sells or something?

Hey I’ll take it, I’m getting paid.

So what name should I keep an eye out for

Larry pauses, they’ve never told each other their real names, years of being Wolf and Stripes and now occasionally Writer boy and Wolfman on top of having internet safety drilled into them has always stopped them.

Look for Laurice Deauxnim.

As your number one fan I want a signed copy at some point

-

“Larry,” he looks up from his typing craze at the sound of his name, he’s made a lot of progress on this chapter and with Elise’s help he’s hoping to get it done and sent to publishers by May. That’s his new year’s resolution, getting published this year.

Elise pauses her typing and he hears her sigh. He looks up to her, her face is set and determined but when she looks to him he thinks he sees regret.

“Larry, I’m afraid a situation has come up and I know it’s very last minute but unless you want to come to a monastery with me I’m afraid you’re going to have to spend the next week or so without me.”

“What?” Larry feels a surge of panic not unlike the time he discovered he hadn’t saved in an hour, “a monastery? Why are you- where are you going?”

“Hazakura Temple,” she replies with a pause, Larry has never heard of it but he pulls it up on google quick enough. A teaser for an upcoming edition of the “Oh! Cult” Magazine pops up with some lovely images. Looks cold but interesting.

“Sure I’ll come. I’ve had art block for the past week maybe trying to do some temple scenes will help!”

Elise pauses and smiles kindly, “if you really want to…”

“I need some winter scene practice too,” Larry is not looking forward to wandering around the cold but Elise was going there for some reason, maybe he’ll find a muse there as well.

He flicks his finger over the picture hanging on the wall, the one that still made him smile to see there, “and I’ll give you a winter scene to compliment the summer one.”

Whatever hesitation Elise seems to be having vanishes as she laughs softly, “alright. Make sure to dress warm.”

And in honor of @pachelbelsheadcanon‘s fantastic art, here’s a list of the allegiances. 

SpiritClan

Leader

Spiritstar – a cream she-cat with darker paws and face

Deputy

Darkleaf – a dark brown tom

Medicine Cat

Cherrywing – a cream she-cat with darker striped paws and face

Apprentice: Splashpaw

Warriors

Firebirdstorm – a bright orange tabby with spikey fur

Orangestripe – an orange tabby tom with scruffy fur

Beetlelight – a brown tabby tom with a white chin

Apprentices

Splashpaw – a white she-cat with brown paws and face

 Demon’s Group

Demon – a dark gray tom with thick fur, especially on his chest, formerly Sharppaw of SpiritClan

Viper – a gray she-cat with cold blue eyes, formerly a rogue

Timber – a brown tabby tom with messy fur

Bird – a calico she-cat with mostly dark red patches

Wolf – large thick furred gray tom

[kriskebob-blog]

Day 3: My experiment is tested by weekend socializing

Hi friends. Happy Saturday night! Tonight I’m blogging about the events of yesterday, which I think was probably my most uneventful day so far on this dietary adventure... at least in terms of shopping and prepping interesting new meals. Both breakfast and lunch were covered by leftovers - we still had half the burrito bake left and then we polished off the salad and zoodles for lunch. According to the order of recipes as given by Dr. G, our next dinner would be spinach and mushroom black bean burritos. I took a look at the recipe. It looked like one of the simplest ones yet. A can of black beans, some minced onion and garlic, some chopped mushroom, a few handfuls of baby spinach... and then some seasoning in the form of savory spice blend (already prepped), cayenne pepper (duh of course I’d have that), summer salsa (already prepped), and then Dr. G’.s “Healthy Hot Sauce (see page 8)”. Psh. This was going to be nothing after all the cooking I’d done yesterday. Today would actually feel like more of a “normal” day where all I really had to worry about cooking was a quick dinner. It felt good and right for a Friday. Time to unwind a little, you know? We also had plans that night to meet up for a game night with some friends who had recently moved back to CT after a few years out west. 

The one thing I’d have to stop and prep before throwing together these vegan burritos was the “healthy hot sauce” but I didn’t think that’d be a big deal. I had purchased several big handfuls of fresh red chiles at Big Y that morning. The guy bagging my groceries had raised his brows. “Habaneros? Oh, man. I wouldn’t eat those,” he shook his head. I smiled politely and thought to myself, Shit. I had never cooked with habaneros before. I hadn’t realized that’s what these peppers were; the bin had only been labeled “hot chiles.” (Does anyone else’s grocery store have this tendency not to specify which fresh chiles are which?? It’s annoying honestly!) I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’ll just... use less or something if I need to, I thought doubtfully. The cookbook hadn’t specified what kind of chiles to use, it’d just specify that they be “fresh hot chiles, a single type or mixed.” I had gone for the red ones because I’d liked the idea of a traditional red hot sauce. Suddenly I wasn’t so sure about my choice, but no turning back at that point. 

Oh, and in case you wondered how my second trip to the grocery store this week went - MUCH easier! I didn’t end up needing nearly as much stuff the second time, in part because I still had tons of produce left over from my earlier visit this week and I also had less pantry items to purchase this time (didn’t need to return to Whole Foods, thank god). I did end up picking up a big container of unsalted roasted almonds and then lots of blueberries from the farm stand because I was really going to need more fast snacking options if I was going to make it through these two weeks without stuffing granola in my face. Even with two pints of blueberries and 22oz of almonds, my bill was definitely improved from last time. I’ve still spent a lot more on groceries this week than I normally would, but I had expected as much. Hard to avoid it when you’re replacing cheap staples like eggs and toast with a heaping plate of fiber every morning. 

Alright so back to the point aka what I expected to be a totally easy day of food prep. All I needed to prep that night were some simple burritos, this “healthy hot sauce” alternative, and then a snack to share when we went to see our friends. I had decided on the edamame guacamole recipe in Dr. G’s book. Since you obviously want your guac to be as fresh as possible when it’s eaten, I’d wait until we got pretty close to our planned departure time to throw it together. I figured it’d take like ten minutes maybe. 

Sam got home early and was eager to help me prep dinner like the gem that he is. “Honestly, we can probably wait another half hour or so,” I told him. “This isn’t going to take that long to prep or cook.” So we got started around 5:15. We wanted to be at our friends’ place for 7:00 so that seemed like plenty of time to cover a quick dinner and then throw together the guac. 

Except then I flipped back to actually read the “healthy hot sauce” recipe more carefully. I blinked as I realized it wanted me to cook down the chiles for nearly half an hour and then “allow them to come to room temperature.” Would have been no big deal at all... if I had bothered to read this an hour earlier. Whoops. Shit, I thought. Within ~10 seconds I decided screw it. I really wasn’t feeling too confident about those habaneros anyways and we still had a big jug of Frank’s hot sauce in the fridge. Definitely not a whole food, but what the hell was the harm of adding a tiny bit of a normal condiment here or there? I looked again at the burrito recipe. It said to just add hot sauce to taste. We could probably just skip it entirely then. Great. Problem solved. I’ll use those chiles and try to make the hot sauce another day, I thought, doubting myself even as I said the words in my own head. 

As expected, the spinach & mushroom black bean filling was super quick to prepare and cook. One thing I’m realizing is that the cooking process for a lot of these meals is honestly a lot simpler than meat-based meals (or at least so long as you have your fancy hand-made condiments, salsas, sauces, raw cashews, etc etc prepped in advance...). The vegetables often only need a few minutes to cook down, you don’t have to stop to wash your hands every time you handle a piece of raw meat or egg, and, of course, you don’t have to worry about actually cooking any animal protein. Just cook those veggies down some, season them to your liking, and you’re golden. And speaking of seasoning, I did end up adding a bit of Frank’s to the mixture in the pot. But just a splash okay! 

Aw yea. And then here’s a burrito topped with the salsa before it got devoured (it was super messy btw): 

The verdict for this one? Tasty... but again, it needed salt. I haven’t been tasting the food for saltiness before sitting down to eat it because I’ve been trying to stick to Dr. G’s sodium substitutes/replacements but I don’t know how much longer I’m going to last! I actually would have liked to see what it tasted like with some fennel seed added in; I always remember one black bean taco recipe I made ages ago that I loved mainly because of that spice’s inclusion. It’s a nice way to trick your brain into thinking you might be eating sausage. 

We cleaned up the kitchen and it was a little after 6. Our friends only lived 15-20 minutes away. “Let’s wait until like 6:30 before we put together the guac, so that it’s fresh,” I told Sam. 

This was to end up being a major mistake on my part. So, first of all, it was definitely a risky move to decide to bring something like “edamame guacamole” to a social gathering. People are really freaking opinionated about what guacamole is supposed to taste like (myself included, admittedly). I’d had edamame before and I figured its addition would go mostly unnoticed under the flavors of lime, cilantro, jalapeno, etc. 

Looks like the right set-up for the makings of a perfectly normal and tasty guacamole, no?

Sadly, it really just didn’t come out good at all. I tasted it and actually winced. There was a sharp bitter flavor that took me completely aback. “I think the edamame is throwing me off,” I told Sam, who had also tasted it and looked as uneasy as I felt. I wasn’t sure what else the issue could be if not the obvious interloper ingredient. I’d even insisted we add in some kosher salt even though Dr. G, of course, called for his “savory spice blend” instead. Guacamole without any actual salt is a freaking crime, I’m sorry Dr. G. “Add more lime juice maybe?” I suggested to Sam, as he was the one who had thrown it together (have I mentioned that he’s the best?). I also added a bit more salt. 

We tried for a long time to salvage that guac. We added plenty more lime. More tomato. We even decided to blend up another avocado to try and mask the admittedly weird presence of the edamame. I tried it again and still winced a little. It still had a bitter bite to it that we couldn’t seem to mask. “I think it might not even be the edamame... it seems like it might be the jalapeno,” I told Sam. Well. This sucked. I’d just bought a handful of jalapenos fresh from the farmstand that very morning. For maybe the first time ever, Johnny Appleseed’s had let me down, and they had let me down hard. 

We were running pretty late at this point. We hemmed and hawed about if we should stop at the store and pick up something else to bring but in the end we decided to grin and bear it, and off we went to see our friends, subpar homemade guac and freshcut veggies in tow. Our friends were perfectly polite about the guac (we had told them why we’d been late), but let’s just say it definitely wasn’t the hit of the evening. Sigh. Our first foray into sharing a Dr. G recipe with friends had not exactly gone well, but it’s hard to say whether it was the recipe itself or the bitterness of that pepper. I do know that if I made that recipe again, I’d add even more salt, cause honestly Dr. G, if even a metric f@*!-ton of vegetables every day isn’t enough to save my arteries from hypertension, I’m not sure they deserve saving anyways. 

We had a nice night seeing old friends and meeting some new ones. I will say, though, that I was agonizingly tempted by the cookies that were set out for any guest to grab. They were the huge chocolate-chip/M&M ones from Stop and Shop and anyone who’s ever been at a party with me knows I love those things, damn it. I tried not to stare too jealously at everyone else as they ate their cookies and instead I ate a couple of slices of watermelon. I’ve actually never been a watermelon fan, but at that point I was willing to take whatever acceptable form of sugar I could get! And you know, it was honestly pretty good. 

We got home around midnight and I kicked off my shoes, still sighing at Sam about how badly I had wanted one of those cookies. Unsurprisingly, he had no sympathy for me and my self-imposed first world problems. It was past our bedtime but I didn’t want to go to bed, I wanted to plop on the couch with a cookie and a beer, or maybe a nice glass of wine. Just yesterday I was writing about how surviving my first complete day of only plant-based whole foods hadn’t been that hard, but now it was Friday night, a night when Sam and I normally celebrated the end of another work week with some sort of indulgence - a dinner out, a trip to the ice cream stand, a bottle of wine or a six-pack... hell, sometimes all three. I changed into my pajamas and thought about the fact that all of my favorite vices in life seem to involve putting large amounts of sugar and/or a few drinks into my bloodstream. It admittedly didn’t seem awesome for my longterm health to be doing that even as often as once a week. And we’d still had fun that night without any of that, right? Right. 

I dutifully stuffed a final late night snack of some unsalted peanuts into my mouth and ten minutes later brushed my teeth and went to bed. Survived another day and managed to cheat only a tiny bit with my defiant pinches of kosher salt and splashes of Frank’s red hot sauce. 

Hope you’ll be back for Day 4′s write-up tomorrow, friends! Here’s a bonus: an action shot of Sammy the Sous Chef getting our veggie platter ready: 

Gadget rec of the day: A good blender! Most of us already have a blender I think, but if you really want to incorporate more whole foods and produce into your diet I think a good blender is an absolute must. I’ve only been following this diet for three days and I’ve already used our blender more times than I can count on one hand. 

Music rec of the day: “Sophia” by Laura Marling

[what-ever-happened-to-chip]

Detective Rinoa

Squally better fucking gather info together with Camp B or I will kill him. I won’t be the only one pulling weight in this. 

Detective Rinoa is on it. 

First things first need to dress for the occasion. I find my best biker shorts, my tightest tank top (might need to use my womanly charm for info), my apple watch, three pens, my pocket journal and a short sleeve cargo vest for all my accessories. 

For protection I bring along Angelo and pepper spray. Plus my shooting star blaster edge. Hair tie on and I am set.

I make a list of all the people with possible info. Christian obviously, J, Tidus, Noah. Also Jenn and Yuna with questions marks after their names. Those two I doubt have any info but maybe since Jenn was dead she’ll remember something. Also I am suspicious of what Natsu was yelling about. Darn if only we had just a little more time together with Camp B I coulda got more info. Maybe they separated us for that reason.

Yuna I put down cause I don’t think she personally had any information but she hung with Eli a 

lot and he knows something. Or at least pretends to know. 

They shut off any way of talking to B. Our phones don’t work trying to call or text them. We obv can’t send letters. I even tried like hacking the system and using email or facebook when I really wanted to talk to Zidane but no that was all blocked. I just don’t get it. When we were in San Diego we were still able to talk to each other just not live together. Now they have us completely separated! Like we been with these people thousands of years and outta nowhere BOOM! Separated. They claim its cause we got “too rowdy” but we were like that forever so something musta changed. 

I bet Ulquiorra knows something about all this spirt stuff but not like I’ll be able to get anything out of him. Or maybe I can? He does have a weak spot for attractive woman. I add him to my list and check myself if the mirror. Yea you got it girl. 

okay who to start with? Christian I probably get most info outt a but I am not in the modd for his cryptic speech pattern right now. So no I wait on that. 

Me and Jenn are friends so I decided to knock her out quick. Okay Rinoa you got this. I whistle Angelo along and head towards her room. 

“Knock knock its me girl!:

“Rinoa!” She runs up and hugs me. She's so cute. I love her. 

“Isn’t this so shitty ! Its like I finally getta be back with Aiden and then they take us apart again ! How could they be so cruel? She pouts and sits on her bed. 

I have been trying the last hundred years to get her to dump that creep but no she's wayyyy into his flaming ass. He;s like a literal monster and fucking killed her! Jenn.  Sweet, innocent Jenn! But she doesn’t listen to reason just with her heart. I admire that in ways but just wish her heart was head over heels for not such a piece of shit as a person. Gray warned me if Aiden found out about what i was doing he would send me straight to hell. He’s not gonna do shit he's a pussy and so what if he does. He doesn’t have shit on me and even if he does that just proves to Jenn he is a fucking monster. Whatever. Fuck Him. 

“I know girl this is so fucked up!! Least we’re on the same camp side!!”

“Yea totally and I guess besides Aiden and Namine I am not really friends with any of them.” 

“Oh you have more friends then that!!” I tried to think who wasn’t a dirt bag piece of shit on that side of the camp. They definitely had wayyyy more then we did. 

“I mean I guess Marcus is like sorta my friend but it always seems like hes making fun of me.” Jenn looked upset at this and began messing with her nails.

You could always tell how anxious she was by how long her nails were. They were like stubs now. It was probably hanging with Aiden. He’s so stressful for her. 

“Yea I feel you girl him and that slut Lana just walk around like they are better then everyone and pretend they are like this power couple when aha- yea no.” (word from narrator. She said the last part with a scoff and a very pronounced “aha: in about the bitchest way you can imagine it) 

“Yea she like hung out in here other day and it was just weeeirdddd.” 

“That is weird why was she in here?”

“I don’t even know she was like asking me about how I feel about Aiden having Harry suck his dick, which I thought was super weird she was thinking about that. Like is she trying to imagine Aiden’s penis or something.” Jenn paused to grab her box of nail polish outta side table drawer. “Anyhow I told her its like fine cause Harrys so weird its like who cares about him.”

“Totally girl.” My nails needed some color too. I searched through her colours till I found a really lovely silver. 

While we both painted our nails and updated each other on our feelings about the newest bachelorette. I felt like Todd should totally get with Kaitlyn but Jenn felt Winston was the better match. Todd was just so cute. Okay now that thats all settled I needed info.

“Hey so like before we got split up Natsu yelled something about you being like a dark thing or like idk what?”

“Yea I don’t know what he was saying it was just like weird and its like how can I be that? Doesn;t make any sense to me”

Rats no info. 

“Yea I wouldn’t worry about it Natsus an idiot and probably just misheard something.”

“Yeah, your probably right.” Jenn looked a bit worried though.

Well this wasn’t getting me anywhere I should go see Yuna next just to get both the easy ones outta the way. 

“Hey girl I gotta go, I am trying to figure out whats going on in this camp. Somethigns fishy and I am going to find out what. Maybe if I do they won’t have us spilt up as much.”

“Okay yea, good luck to you! I know you can figure it out!” Jenn flashed her teethy grin at me. She lead me to door gave me a big hug and sent me on my way. 

Okay next stop stonerville

I tried her room but she wasn’t in there. Fuck hopefully she didn’t go anywhere I guess if she did I could just go to someone else on list. I saw Neji down the hall “Hey Neji have you seen Yuna?’

“Yes she was in the living room watching tv and smoking weed with a ton of people.”

“Thanks!” He seems less angry lately which is nice cause he was getting pretty flippin weird with all his hubris yelling. 

I walked into living room and Neji wasn’t joking there was like 10 people in here. I spotted Yuna squeezed on couch next to Lana and Naruto. Gippal lay sprawled on the couch with his legs on all of them. Such a lazy fuck couldn’t sit up for people. Um Rude!

I didn’t want to talk to her here and have everyone yelling their opinions at once. So annoying. Once I received more information I would relay it to rest of camp but not yet. 

“Rin No Na! What it be what it do?” Jesse yelled. He would be kinda cute if he wasn’t so obnoxious. 

“I am fine, no don’t move over I am not staying.” I looked at tv they were all watching the hangover. I did want to watch it with them but I’ve seen it like 5 times and my mission was important. I sat on coffee table facing Yuna “Psst hey Yuna can we go somewhere to talk’

“WHAT YA GUYS GONNA TALK ABOUT?” Naruto yelled. Great just fucking great now everyones gonna start yelling other annoying things. 

“I bet its period stuff.” Natsu yelled

“No I bet its woman stuff” Naruto yelled

“Periods are woman stuff you dumb fuck” Sasuke yelled

“Shut up all of you its none of your fucking business!.”

Some mumbles and a few more yells how we were gonna have sex and scissor each other. Everyone is so moronic here, it's sooo aggravating. 

“Yea of course Rinoa!” Yuna squeezed herself outta the couch with the grunts from Gippal. He better not vomit on the fucking couch again that was so fucking gross and disgusting.

I guided Yuna to my room which was the safest room to talk. No one ever came here except Zidane but he was with other camp so I am safe. 

“Oh I love what you’ve done with the room!” Yuna smiled and sat on the end of bed . She just sat there smiling. I wonder how her face isn’t stuck in that position from how much she does it. I dug around in my desk until I found my one hitter and a lil bit of weed. I didn’t smoke much so this was probably months old but whatever it will do. I hand the packed pipe to Yuna whose face lights up at it “Oh thank you Rinoa this is so thoughtful!” She takes down the whole bowl in one huge hit. Packing it again with her own personal stash. She hands it towards me but I wave it off. Have to keep my brain clear. 

“So whats going on? Is everything okay?” Yuna asked. Okay good the weed didn’t make her retarded. This stuff wasn’t that strong so that probably helped, also her tolerance I bet is wayyy too high for this cheap stuff to effect her much. 

“Yeah I am fine, everything is good with me. I am just, well I been thinking about all that stuff that happened before they split us up, like about the darks spirits, I was wondering if you knew anything about that?” 

“Oh yes it was such a terrible thing that happened to Jonis dear daughter, I am so furious with Gray and how it all happened. Just so Gray could oh I don’t even know what he wanted out of it which makes me even more mad! “ Yuna huffed a little after all this, its probably from the weed and she didn’t take a single breathe while talking but I liked to believe it was from the extra pounds she carried around with her. Ha chunky Yuna huffing away. Okay Rinoa focus

I didn’t really care about all the stuff with Jonis daughter but I needed Yuna to stay on my side so I said “yea that was so fucked up of Gray, Just cause hes sad and miserable doesn’t mean he needs to bring everyone to his level.” I scoffed and Yuna nodded in approval “So yea anyhow about dark spirits you know anything?”

“Its a horrible place. I don’t know a lot but I know a little bit.” Yuna drank some water and continued “So usually souls are sent to their worlds version of the after life”

Rinoa interrupted “- so its like hell?”

“No I mean hell still exists in some worlds but their soul is still intact for lack of a better term. It can still be retrieved and brought back.” 

“Ok so this place is like totally different from other afterworlds, its like its own entity?” 

“Precisely! Its its own separate place! I am not sure where it came from or how long its been around, Elis I know speculates it formed when the worlds collided, yet I know Aiden was there before that so I don’t believe that is true. Christian told me once its always been around, and after Eli heard about that, he speculated that the reason the worlds collided had to do with this place. I am not sure about any of that. What I do know is the place consists of dark magic and dark beings dwell there. Any soul who steps into that place becomes tainted. So what happened with Lily is because she was killed with dark magic she was tainted and had to be sent there. No other afterlife could handle such a dark being without becoming dark themselves. I don’t exactly know how it all works though.” Yuna looked down seemingly flustered with it all

I pondered on this for a while. She gave me a lot more information then I could have hoped for. 

“So its pretty much the worst place in the universe? No wonder Aiden is so fucked up!”

“Yes it is, Eli told me once anyone who goes there becomes tainted in a way, incomplete rather. Like they aren’t all together human anymore. He couldn’t tell me how or why. He also said anyone who goes their becomes trapped but Aiden is intact and he has his soul still, so Eli must be wrong about that. Or perhaps thats what usually happens and Aiden somehow beat the system? I don’t know its all so horrible I don’t like to think about it!” Yuna took the liberty to pack herself another bowl to smoke. 

“Hmm so if thats the case and J was there and also got out there must be some way.”

“Yes they must be! Ya know I can feel souls with my summoner ability and I have always sensed J’s soul be off. Like it just feels wrong but now that I know he was in that place, thats probably why it feels that way!” 

“Yea and thats why spirits don't seem to want anything to do with him and let him get away with so much shit because they don’t want him around. He probably terrifies them!” 

 I began jotting down things in my journal and Yuna finished off her bowl. 

“Hey Yuna no offense but I gotta go. I need to figure out more about all this and I have quite a few more people to talk to!”

“Oh of course I will leave you, if you need anything more I will be in living room!”

“Okay yea thanks” Just before she left room I thought of one more thing “Hey real quick so I am gonna talk to Noah, Tidus, J , Ulquiorra and Christian , know anyone else in Camp A that would know something?”

Yuna pondered for a second “Perhaps try Sasuke? He seems to know a lot about everything. Oh and try Jet! He was an old commander so perhaps he knows something from his time in charge.”

“Okay yea i put them down, thanks see you around! “ Yuna waved and headed out 

No way in hell was I talking to either one of them. Especially if I didn’t have to. Wasn’t in the mood to get groped and deal with the biggest asshole in camp. No thank you. 

Next stop Noah! 

I found him in his room laying in the dark with his covers up. He looked briefly at me when I entered but turned around to continue staring at his wall. 

I took the liberty to let myself in. I slid out a chair and opened the blinds up so I could see. He looked like shit. 

“Hey I know you probably don’t want to talk about this but I need to know about the dark spirit place or whatever its called.” I paused looking at him “Its important.” I added 

No response. I couldn’t wait for him to get over whatever this was.

“Noah, I need to know, help me out here” 

“Why would you wanna know about that place?” He said it in a whisper 

“I, no we, as a camp need to know!” This came out a lot more harsh then I meant it too. Whatever. Usually the guy was so dumb you asked him anything and he replied. No filters. But now when I need him to talk hes understanding what silence means? What the fuck. Where's lady luck and why isn’t she on my side?

“No you don’t need to know, you think you need to know but it won’t help anything, it won’t change anything. It will just bring pain and destruction. 

I was geting so annoyed at his inability to just answer a fucking question I blew up. 

“OMG are you mansplaining to me? I know what is good and bad for me to know. Fuck right off Noah. I can handle myself, I can handle this, I am not a moron.” 

He sat up slightly at this and sighed “ No you can’t handle this, you or anyone else in camp that isn’t already involved in this doesn’t need to be. Theres no reason for anyone to know anymore then you guys already do. Now please leave me I am not in the mood.” 

I wanted to freak out at him, yet I realized that would get me nowhere. ;”Fine be that way, go fuck yourself Noah!” I slammed his door as hard as I could manage . I sat in the hallway and cried for a little bit. Why can’t I know? He obviously told Joni or else she wouldn’t have had him kill her kid. Or maybe he's the only one that takes orders from Joni. She's such a junkie cunt I bet even if she was here she wouldn’t give me any answers either. Just yell about needing more booze and making stupid inside jokes with jesse that no one else finds funny. They are the worst set of twins I have ever fucking met .

This was pointless. I went to my room and screamed in my pillow for a few minutes. When I was done my throat hurt and Angelo looked worried. 

Sign this whole thing was stupid why did I even try it? No I have to keep going. I decided to go see Tidus when he actually took his meds he was pretty cool and we hung out. When he was off them though it was fucking annoying as shit. Lately he seemed normal so lets hope for the best. I can’t have two let downs in a row. 

I found him in his room lifting weights, his room looked mostly clean which was a good indicator on his saneness. “35, 36, 37,-”

“Hey Tidus its me can I come in?”

“Oh yea Rinoa let me just finish these reps. 38, 39- I waited till he counted to 50 and set the weight down before speaking 

“Hey so I gonna cut right to the chase, your a spirit and everything so I wonder if you know anything about all this dark spirit stuff they were talking about?”

 He was drinking out of his water but stopped after i said dark spirit and his face fell. Oh he totally knows something. 

“Umm no I don’t umm sorry,” He faced away from me and I saw in his mirror him muttering to himself.

“I know you know something Tidus, just tell me I can take it.” He fidgeted around picking up random objects then setting them down. 

“I mean well I wanna tell you but I am not suppose to talk about it” 

“What? Who says you cant talk about it?” Now I was super curious a secret dark spirit place that he was banned from talking about. Oh this was juicy. 

I heard people out the door talking and heard my name so my ears perked up, it sounded like Jesse and Yuna 

“You were talking to Rinoa? Egh talking to her is like I have an itch on the roof of my mouth that only a shotgun can scratch.” Jesse said loudly 

“Oh shes not that bad!” Yuna replied

What a fucking asshole, I made a mental note to go chew him out after this but I didn’t want to wreck my flow I had going here. 

Tidus looked at me sympathetically and I waited till they passed by before talking again

Tidus spoke first tho “Hey don’t mind Jesse he’s just an asshole”

“Uh Yea duh I know that and why would I be bothered by what a lonely wannabe says about me?” My eyes challeneged him to say something stupid. Wisely he changed topics

“Well um what you been up to today? 

“Well I been trying to get people to tell me about the dark spirit place.” 

He looked uncomfortable and said “Uh huh I see, why is it you wanna know so bad?” 

“Because I, or well camp, has the right to know about this, I mean like shouldn’t we do something about it or like go save people from it.”

“You can’t get rid of it that's not how it works, its like saying your gonna blow up hell, its not possible. ANd saving people, why would we have to do that? No one we know is there so that just be a suicide mission.” He shook his head and drank down the rest of his water. Going to refill it in the water jug he had in his room he added “Even if we did have someone to save, we couldn't. It would just be a waste of lifes and resources!” 

“Well Lily got there why wouldn’t we go save her?”

“You know why Rinoa, she doesn’t matter to camp, she's just a kid with no powers.” 

“Omg why didn’t I think of that!” If someone that camp needed or cared about went there we would have to go save them and have to go there! I refrained from saying this out loud though so no one could hear my scheme and block it. Tidus just assumed I didn’t realize Lily was useless which I mean duh, I let him think that though. Makes things easier. 

“Yea I mean maybe she would have powers later but she was only in camp like an hour and I mean like Yuna liked her and- He started rambling about how great Yuna was and I spaced out. Who should I get killed though? It would have to be Noah killing them and use his weird demon thing inside him to do it, can’t be a gun, no pretty sure it have to be Virgo inside him. Hmm who to kill though? My first thought after what Jesse said was him but no he was immortal that wouldn’t work. I don’t know if immortality worked against this but I didn’t want to risk it. Only have one go at this. Hmmm maybe Aerith? She was important plus easy to kill plus Sasuke would go insane and make people go save her with him. Yes, Aerith would be perfect. I almost think Jenn would be funnier to fuck with Aiden but shes useless, so the commanders might not let us go and then Aiden probably just convince himself she never existed and we all would just move on in our lives. Wait, Aerith is a spirit though, that might safeguard her. Not sure but once again don’t wanna risk it. Fuck who then? 

“And shes so caring and pretty and- “ 

“Tidus shut up I am trying to think”

He stopped talking and made a face at me. “You coulda said that nicer” 

“Yea okay I am sorry, whatever, “

“What are you thinking about anyhow?” Tidus inquired. 

Was it safe to tell him? Probably and I would need help with this so bing bing hes the winner! I decided to ease into it though and gauge him out. If he seemed hesitant I would have to find someone new to ask

“I was just thinking how shitty it would be if someone from camp was killed and sent there.”

“Oh yea that would be horrible we wouldn’t see them ever again!”

“I mean never again?” I asked as innocently as I could manage “I mean Aiden got out of there didn’t he?”

“Yea I mean yea but he has Christian helping him when Christian still had access to virgo or well access to his powers”

So thats how it happened hmmm 

“Well couldn’t he access them again?” I inquired 

“No cause Virgo is in Noah.” 

“What about J? He got taken out too? 

“Yea I don’t know how that worked I only just found that out today, I assumine G accessed the igndaemoni stone. I heard that has to do with it” “ I also hear- all of a sudden Tidus’s face just stopped moving 

“What the hell?” I asked and just as I did I saw J walk into the room. Oh so he paused time. What an asshole 

 “J what the fuck!!!! I was so close!!” I pouted and waved my notebook around and my pen flew out of my hand as I flayed around 

“A little too close” His nasally voice said. God his voice was so fucking annoying

“Lets go to kitchen to talk” I followed him in there and noticed quite a few people in there all paused 

“Stop while your ahead Trist me on this.”

“Omg you fucking too-- omg look at grays face!!” 

His face looked like he was just about to sneeze. Contored and retarded looking. 

J let out his shrill laugh while Rinoa laughed like she was actually saying the words heehee     

“Wait Wait look at Lana!” Her face looked like it was turning both ways and her hand was in her butt cheek.

“Omg” 

Rinoa and J continued to point out others with dumb expressions on each letting out their different but equally annoying laughs. 

J wiped a tear from his eye “Oh that rich thats just great.”

I decided to try again “So J what the fuck why did you pause everyone.” 

“For my own safety that's why!” He yelled back. God did he not know how to get his voice at a reasonable level 

“You’re safety from what ?”

J looked around like a paranoid drunk. “Just trust me bitch, you don’t want to go down this path.” J himsellf knew hardly anything about this, he had to take a class in it at the spirit university but he fell asleep half way through and skipped the next two classes and the final class he was so lost on the exam he decided to get drunk in the bathroom and have G make sure he got a passing score. What he did know though was that Ulqiorra would kill him if Rinoa started some shit up. Partly why they let Harry and him spy on everyone was for security reasons and as long as everyone behaved themselves, at least a little, they were allowed to continue being camp security.                                        

“DON’T CALL ME A BITCH!” Rinoa stormed, proving J’s point in her screams of rage if she classified as a bitch or not. 

After her yells subsided with some throw ins of “clay piece of fuck,” “get new friends” “your an fucking asshole” she sat down and crossed her arms and started pouting. 

“I don’t see why I can’t just know, I am not gonna do anything with it I just want to know”

“No you definitely want to do something and I can’t risk you knowing too much and fucking things up for me.”

“For you what the fuck do you mean?”

Shit J thought didn’t need to add that last part “I just mean me as like everyone in camp its won’t be good and Ulquiorras gonna flip out if you unite everyone in some doomed mission.”

 Rinoas face contorted but then twisted into a devious smile. “Okay fine I won’t do anything” She said as innocent as she could manage.

J stared at her with a look of disbelieve but he also was just about to go to Milwaukee with Paine, Yuna and Gippal and he really wanted to get to that. Distancing himself from harry has really done wonders for his social life. He gets to hang out with Gipplal, GIPPAL! His dreams were coming true. 

As J daydreamed about his perfect day with Gippal and how maybe they could break off from the other two and get ice cream and Gippal would get some in his beard and J would slowly wipe it off for him-- Rinoa was thinking of how to get j out of camp so she can continue getting answers. “So can you unpause it, I get it okay?” 

“Yea Yea fine,” J took out a device in his pocket and hit the button. Everyone instantly started moving. 

“What where did you guys come from?” Gray asked 

“WE BEEN IN HERE FUCK OFF” J replied and left to go find his new friends. 

“Yea lay off the dope its making you stupid.” Rinoa shot back at him 

“I don’t recall you guys being in here either” Lana stated

“Whatever you guys are all dumb then” Rinoa flipped her hair and walked out of the room, forgetting about Tidus for the moment and headed back to her room 

In Tidus’s room he was quite shocked by Rinoa disappearing and was terrified he had hallucinated the whole conversation “Oh no Oh no, she was here, wasn’t she? No nonononono! “ Tidus yelled and began searching around his room for her. Looking under his bed and in his closet for obvious places but then under books and his lamp thinking maybe she somehow shrunk. Moving on from schizo boy we head back to Rinoa. 

“Okay I just have to find a way to get J to leave. hmmm “ Rinoa mindlessly pet Angelo while brainstorming. Suddenly Yuna walked in. 

“Hey Rinoa is was lovely talking to you earlier, I hope you figure out what your looking for!” 

“Yea yea I am trying to think now so can you like leave?’

“Oh okay yea no I can’t stay I am going to milwaukee with some friends!” As yuna turned to leave Rinoa yelled for her to stop

“Wait who are you going with?” Rinoa asked, she had to get J to go with them somehow. 

“Oh um Paine, Gippal and J” 

Rinoa jumped up and ran and hugged Yuna “OMG I could kiss you thats fantastic! Don’t let me keep you go go” Rinoa shooed out the very confused Yuna. 

“Okay Angelo we are back on track!” Rinoa jumped for joy grabbed her notepad and ran to go find TIdus. 

-- And that finishes Part 1 of this story-- I will either finish it or can have Rinoa explain how rest of it went when I see ya tomorrow! Probably do the latter so we can move on with plot!