#knot dice squared

[zenigatakeibu]

she's staring at him--- well, not him. not him at all; but the food in his hand. that delicious looking bun that could be shared with her. wouldn't that be nice of him ? to share food with her. who is she exactly ? who cares, what matters is she maaaay be drooling. just a little. is he gonna share his food or let her totally die ?

💎 THE OUTSKIRTS OF JUBILIFE, DUSK. A dying sun guides Moneta's way back toward the Fieldlands, its light fading faster and faster by the minute. It'll be dark soon, nearly black as pitch beneath the new moon, but he knows the route by heart-- has to, if he wants to survive out here. (And really, what other choice does a thief like him have?) It is only when he feels he's put enough distance between himself and the village does he draw back the hood of his cloak. His stomach rumbles. His body aches. Down dips his hand, searching blindly through the sack of stolen food he'd snagged, and--

All of a sudden he isn't alone. A girl stands in his way... Staring. Wide eyes stare right back, the brow above them knotted in a thick furrow. She's from Jubilife from the looks of her uniform; Moneta would recognize the Galaxy Team's sigil anywhere. Worry flares in his throat before he can think to swallow it back, his lips curling into something of a frown. What, is she expecting him to share? He stole this fair and square! ❝ .. No dice, kid, ❞ voice low, gruff and uninviting. He winces at the sound, at how it drags, gravelly, full of thorns. With solitude his constant companion, it's the first real conversation he's had in weeks and it shows. ❝ .. Run home before you get hurt out here. ❞

Guess she'll totally die.

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Snugglebug

7.2k words

It's a pouf × reader (gender neutral) fluff fic because I'm gay for a bug 💖

---

It was essentially a date night. He didn't call it such, of course, but there was truly nothing else to call it. He wanted to watch a movie with you, a cheesy romcom you'd heard of in passing but never bothered to see, but upon seeing how his face lit up as he described it to you, you knew you couldn't say no to him.

He'd even dressed for the occasion, a pink sweater two sizes too large slipping over his hands and hanging well down his legs. You hadn't immediately put the pieces together, only thinking adoringly at the time that he'd taken an extra step to try to look cute for you, but realized partway into the film that the clothing had a real utility to it. He'd left the windows open to let in the cool night air - the sweater was meant to keep his cold blooded body warm enough to stay awake, while keeping the windows open to view the stars and let the breeze in to keep you comfortable as well.

He was thoughtful, for certain. He'd laid out a few snacks for the two of you to share; granted, it seemed as though he'd only realized late into his preparation that he wanted to provide some, seeing as he'd only given you an entire plate of fruits, but he'd taken time to finely chop and dice them into neat little squares. Diced apples, strawberries, mangoes, and a few local fruits you couldn't fully identify, all arranged artfully across a wooden serving platter. He'd placed it on a coffee table near the couch, moved almost too close to ensure neither of you would have to reach very far. You took a seat close to one of the ends of the couch, with Pouf picking a spot close nearby, as close as he could get without actively touching you.

He'd held the remote excitedly, fumbling with the buttons to turn the screen on. He'd spoken quickly while he worked, almost rambling as he discussed how glad he was that you wanted to see the movie, that you were sure to love it, that the central couple was absolutely perfect for the plot concept, which was absolutely brilliant, a work of fine cinema. He seemed to be stating anything and everything that came to his mind, and you knew he wasn't talking simply to hear himself speak - he found each thought he had to be worthwhile to share with you, even as they came to him rapid-fire. Sharing meant quite a lot to him - his music, his romcom, his room and food and thoughts, all of it privy to you. Though he was initially quite chatty, he quieted almost immediately as soon as the movie began, his excitement practically tangible as he shook his hands in front of himself, unable to contain his passion.

After some time passed, you estimated you were roughly one third into the movie, using Pouf's various synopses as a guideline. You glanced over at him to find him enraptured, seeming to hang on to every line of dialogue as though he were working to memorize the entire film. You knew you would hear the plot of the movie rehashed tens of times again over the next few weeks, with him asking you about every aspect of it and how it made you feel, reliving his excitement and joy of having shared something so close to his heart with you. That's all there was to it, really. It made him happy and he was hoping to make you happy as well. It was so simplistic, coming from someone who tied his own mind into knots on the daily.

And in the dimmed light of the room, of course you were happy. He loved you above all else, and he'd gone above and beyond to demonstrate. He'd restructured the entire social order of the palace to include you, read into even the smallest of details you'd expressed to him; the greatest difficulty had been breaking down his walls to perform the same for him, and this night marked a massive stride in progress. He was becoming less reserved, wanting to share his life with you after allowing you to become a part of it. It was just an allowance at first, then a welcome that became increasingly warmer, to the point where you weren't certain he could ever let you go. When he'd fallen, he'd fallen hard, beginning to offer his own affections in a flurry of words and gestures, still too nervous to accept your own. His gestures had still been quite shallow - a hand on your shoulder, a general comment on your appearance - but it seemed that, as soon as he'd gotten a positive response, he let the gestures become deeper and flow more freely. Still with an almost unhealthy amount of thought attached, but accomplishing them regardless. It was part of what had brought you to this night, with him hoping above all that you were happy with it.

Of course you were happy. You loved him.

His eyes flickered off the screen for a moment to observe you, likely trying to determine if you were enjoying the film as much as he was (a nearly impossible task), and he froze upon realizing you'd been looking, gazing, admiring him instead. He was already so close to you, but in that moment scooted himself towards you just a bit more, pressing your thighs together, keeping his eyes on your own as he closed the distance. He was smiling so wide you could swear he was about to burst into tears of joy. He balled his hands into fists and placed them in his lap, stiffening his arms and raising his shoulders, shyly glancing away before suddenly leaning into you.

It was as though he'd simply let gravity take over, his head at an odd angle on your shoulder, his entire body stiff in the unfamiliar gesture you could only imagine he was praying he'd performed correctly. He didn't speak or voice any nervousness, but you could practically feel his rapid pulse with the little contact he had established. The gesture was so clumsy, you couldn't suppress a small chuckle, feeling his head shift as he turned to see what could have made you laugh. Uncertainty shown in his eyes, everything had gone so well until he'd made a gesture that may have been too much too soon, and now he'd made a fool of himself in front of you-

You slid your hand onto the small of his back, slipping under his wings and gauging his reaction to your touch. His eyes widened further at your response to his advancement; he gave no indication of wanting you to stop. You moved just a bit further, settling your hand on his waist. He was grinning almost madly, seeming to try to suppress his excitement at the reciprocation of his affections. You inched your hand onto the top of his thigh, fully resting your arm around him. He still felt tense beyond belief, the unfamiliarity of all the sensations making him almost comically awkward in his posturing.

".. Are you okay?" You kept your voice low - in spite of the adrenaline spike, he still seemed to focus on the movie.

"Do you want me to stop-?"

"No-!" His whisper was almost a hiss - he'd tried to get the words out as fast as possible. "No. Please don't." The words tumbled out in an almost frantic exhale as he tried to reassure you.

"Are you sure?"

A beat of silence

"... Yes, I am."

You could feel some of the tension in his back begin to loosen as he confirmed he was comfortable, having sat with the sensations long enough to adjust to them. Beginning to settle down, he hummed in contentment and readjusted his head, fully leaning into you and snuggling closer. You felt his shoulders begin to lower as he finally began to relax, though you could swear you still felt him trembling, the adrenaline from the advancement still fresh in his body.

And so you sat.

You sat with your lover to - no, on - your side, keeping one eye on the screen and the other on the way he kept fidgeting with his hands, still held in his lap. Every few minutes, he seemed to feel the need to readjust his posture, using the motion as an excuse to nuzzle his face back into the crook of your neck, a small satisfied sigh audible each time, without fail. He was definitely cute, that you'd always known - his odd quirks and mannerisms had been part of what had captured your heart. The way his voice was nearly monotone until something caught his attention and he suddenly came to life, the way he spoke with hand (and, on occasion, full body) gestures, the way it was so obvious when his smiles were polite versus the almost over exaggerated grins he displayed when he was really, truly happy; all of it made your heart skip. But to see him here, melting into your touch, was unlike anything you'd seen prior.

To say he struck you as nervous was a frank understatement. Every advancement he'd made towards you, even the smallest of gestures like complimenting an outfit or passing you a wildflower, seemed like it would send him directly into cardiac arrest. The very first gift he'd given you had indeed been a wildflower - something of a weed really, but perfectly formed with all petals intact. He'd stiffly extended his entire arm to offer the flower, anxiety visible in his eyes and in the sweat dotting his brow. You later learned that he'd been considering every possible outcome of his gesture, hammering in on every negative, of every chance for you to say no, to be disgusted, to turn away for good. He'd thought of it every single time, thinking whatever he did would finally be it, that your love was simply too good to be true, that you were merely toying with him, that one day, the curtains would fall unannounced partway through the act, leaving him alone and in the dark.

Frankly, it broke your heart.

Of course you knew risks were incurred with every relationship - continuing to pursue one with a chimera ant royal guard told you that well enough. Seeing him, in all his glory and power, be reduced to having such human fears and anxieties struck a chord in you. At the end of the day, in spite of it all, he was still subject to the same trials you were. You shared even ground on that front, and it was almost calming - no matter how different he seemed, you were still able to intuitively connect with him on a familiar level. At least, that's how it felt for the things you knew how to comfort; him coming to you crying about his king or screaming in rage over board games was something else entirely. Though, it was also a reminder that you never quite knew what to expect from him. Something that still rang true even in this moment as he curled up to you.

What was presumably the climax of the film was playing in front of you - neither of you had been paying it much attention. The main couple was arguing over what appeared to be a miscommunication, seeming to split for good before their assuredly dramatic reunion. In spite of Pouf explaining the plot to you time and time again, you still weren't entirely sure what the fight was about. Not that it mattered, anyways.

"That could never be us."

He'd spoken for the first time since the film started. You humored his quip.

"How so?"

"We're close enough to not need to resort to airing petty grievances; we simply speak."

He wasn't entirely exaggerating. He seemed to have an almost uncanny knack for honing in on what your true emotions were, no matter how much you would try to suppress any upset if it happened to cross your mind. You eventually stopped trying, becoming more open about how you felt with him. You found that you needed to tread carefully as you did so - he was so easy to upset it felt like a hassle to try, but with the right assurances, he could take the information in. You still felt a few minor struggles when it came to truly reading him - there were minor instances where he definitely seemed as though he were trying to hide something, but he also didn't seem to be the best liar. Trying to get him to actually discuss those feelings could feel like pulling teeth with him, but you'd been able to coax it out of him time and time again.

The two of you had put in an exorbitant amount of effort to become as synchronized as you were, with him always monitoring you for signs of distress and you keeping an eye on his rampant anxiety. While it occasionally felt almost overbearing with the way he observed you so closely and so consistently, it made sense in your eyes. He was an ant. He had little idea of how humans functioned and when he'd be crossing a line with his behaviors; his sheer insistence was his way of ensuring he wasn't breaking the boundaries you implicitly had as a human. His fears about upsetting you were palpable; you knew he had a tendency to overthink, to map out the consequences of everything, stilling himself into paralysis. And that was where you came in, pulling him out of the trenches of his worries and reassuring him that yes, you were comfortable, you were happy, you were just as in love. Close indeed.

Your heart leapt at his words, simple as they were. His efforts had been some of the most arduous; watching him cry as he struggled to articulate himself had been painful beyond belief, and being able to see him gradually become better at it with practice had been a reward in and of itself. You beamed, adoration and pride on full display in a gaze you delivered to your partner. Keeping your arm wrapped around him, you moved your hand from his leg to his arm, pulling him closer and turning to kiss the crown of his head, picking up on the faint scent of lavender in his hair. He giggled, turning towards you and shifting to wrap his arms around you, hugging you close and once more nuzzling into your neck. You returned the gesture with enthusiasm, giving him a tight squeeze as you did; he was too nervous to do the same for you - in spite of his spindly frame, his strength far surpassed your own. He instead settled for a loose grasp, just enough for you to feel the warmth from the thick fleece sweater; it almost felt as though he were wrapping you in a blanket.

He began to subtly, gently sway side to side, still holding you. Even in the small moments, his proclivity towards dance and motion still shone through. The motion was relaxing, slow and repetitive. He kept his face buried in your shoulder, his breathing evening out, hinting that his heart may have finally begun to slow to a standard resting rate. He was finally calming down, blissfully relaxing in your arms. You began to loosen your grip, feeling some slight tension in your arms from having held him so tightly for so long.

He also began to loosen what little grip he had on you, leaning back and gazing into your eyes. His own eyes shyly flickered away every few seconds, but the eye contact he briefly maintained was soft and dreamy. Still looking, eyes glinting in the light like gemstones, he moved. It was quite a subtle motion, but he had leaned in just a bit closer. A silent cue, you suspected. You tested the waters, beginning to close the space between the two of you. He smiled a bit wider, anticipation becoming visible in his expression, eyes shining even in the dim shifting lighting. You shifted your hands, moving them up to encircle his face, your fingertips dipping into his hair. His eyes fluttered shut, with your own following soon after. You leaned in and, after some slight hesitance to ensure he was still wanting, you closed the gap, gracing your lips against his own before finally settling into the kiss, the faint taste of strawberries still lingering on him.

His arms, initially wrapped around your waist, slipped away as he trailed his hands up your sides and over your shoulders, sliding them down and across your back as he encircled you by the shoulders. He melted into your touch, sinking into the kiss gradually, fluid as a drop of honey and just as sweet. Even with the thick sweater, his insect nature still shone through - he was still noticeably cold to the touch, as though he'd just been chewing on ice. It was just another draw towards him - part of an odd natural charm, alongside his wings and antennae.

He held you close, near and dear, drawing the act out as long as he could, a certain decadence present in his lips, soft and cool as silk, pressed to your own. He returned for more and more, almost afraid to stop, lest the magic vanish for good. As you began to feel yourself begin to become lightheaded, you felt him finally begin to break away, his chest rising against you with a sudden inhale; he slowly let the air out, his eyes fluttering open, batting his lashes at you as he met your eyes once more. Your lover regarded you with nothing short of adoration. You were responsible for the sun in the sky, for each individual star, radiating the very same warmth to him, the greatest need for his cold blooded body, the very thing waking him from stasis. He leaned back in, nuzzling your face.

"... You are everything I could have ever wished for..."

He delivered affection with no hesitation. That was almost never an issue for him; he definitely put a bit too much thought into how his larger gestures would be received, wanting them to be enacted with perfection and precision, but in the most general sense he loved nothing more than to dote over you. Still fairly early into your relationship, he had held some reservations, but after witnessing your positive reception, he moved without hesitation. Delivering was only a minor issue - it was the reception that always threw him into a tailspin.

The very first time you motioned to hold his hand, he seemed as though he was about to have a heart attack. You of course registered this as a large gesture as well - an open display of PDA between the two of you. He'd found it quite easy to sneak quick kisses to you, to lace your fingers between his own, to pull you into an impromptu waltz, but as soon as you returned the favor, he appeared to be left in shock. Being on the receiving end of love seemed to be something completely foreign to him.

You had made it your personal mission to habituate him.

It had taken time, but he was growing more accepting of it. His initial fluster and discomfort had been because he simply did not feel worth your time or love. It was something he had expressed to you quite explicitly, telling you as you returned kind words or gentle touches that someone like him simply wasn't deserving. You had a suspicion that he still didn't quite believe that he was worth all the time and effort you'd invested with him, but he no longer voiced objections and welcomed your gestures, so you'd felt that that constituted a great deal of progress in and of itself.

It was absolutely invaluable, seeing him become more comfortable not just with you, but with himself as well.

The room suddenly went dark. Both of you turned in unison to see that the movie had ended. Neither of you had actually caught the ending. Pouf seemed almost embarrassed - he'd praised it so highly for weeks on end, and then completely disregarded it in favor of you.

"Did you.. enjoy it?" He paused, knowing full you had also found yourself a little distracted.

".. I think we might have to watch it again." While you didn't find yourself all that drawn to it (from what you did remember seeing), you wanted to genuinely try to watch it for his sake.

Even in the dim light, you could faintly see him blush.

"Yes, we certainly should." He said it with certainty, making it sound more like a promise than a suggestion. At any and all costs, you would view this romcom in its entirety, distractions and all. He spoke again.

"Are you comfortable?" It was a general question - were you hungry? Tired? Cold? You'd gathered over time that it was his shorthand way of covering all questions pertaining to your needs, as to not irritate you by asking one thing after another.

"Maybe I'm a little cold."

In truth, you were quite comfortable - being wrapped in his sweater had staved off the worst of the drafts. You had said it as something of a joke, forgetting his tendency to take such statements seriously; the words had barely left you when he'd begun to shimmy out of the sweater, tucking his wings back in through the collar and slipping it over his head.

"Lift your arms." He looked at you quite seriously, holding the oversized pink sweater. You kept your arms close to yourself, lifting them enough to bring your hands even with your face. He held the bottom of the sweater open and gently pulled it down over you, a soft and warm smile lighting him up, even in the dim light of the rolling movie credits. You slid your hands through the sleeves, feeling your fingertips barely make it out of the sweater. You immediately felt yourself beginning to warm up, the open window and cooling desert air no longer presenting a concern.

"You look adorable."

His voice was drenched in saccharine; when he loved, he loved with his entire being, and it was plain to see that particular force at work. One could have called him a hopeless romantic, but with his relationship fully realized, he was nothing but hopeful, despair having fully become gratitude. For as nervous as being loved could make him feel, it was one of, if not the best thing to have ever happened to him. The security he felt with you was practically unparalleled - he knew he could come to you for comfort, for any solace at all from the obsessive thoughts that plagued him. As much as the feelings were new and nervewracking, they were exhilarating. You loved him, you *lloved him, you loved him. He very thought made him giddy and lightheaded, such simple joy!

Such simple joy in seeing you in his clothes, calm in his presence. You'd kissed him. You'd kissed him and it was the closest he'd come to feeling real magic. This was all known to you - both from his own words and from a somewhat cruel prank his brothers played which had involved you seeing a rather fervent excerpt from his diary, all free space on the page dotted with hearts.

The kisses and holding him close had probably been enough to satisfy him for the night, but you felt just the slightest bit curious as to how he would respond if you gave him just a bit more.

He was still blushing at you, for certain. You couldn't see it now in the low light, but you felt absolutely certain that, if you cupped his face in your hands once more, your hands might actually be colder than him. He hadn't dressed any differently underneath the sweater - still the same high waisted dress pants, the same dress shirt with its collar evocative of a butterfly's wings. Still the same nervous-in-love man you'd fallen for.

He hadn't always been as sweet as he'd been this evening - he'd been quite cold and rude to you in the beginning, later confessing to you how unsure he had felt with his new feelings towards you, a human, of all things. Nerves, disgust, and above all else, domineering fear, had been the primary facets of his emotional landscape, and with you appearing to be responsible for them, he'd wanted you gone. He'd changed his mind just as quickly, confronting the depths of his affections and taking a massive risk - his own king kept a human he was quite fond of, surely this couldn't destroy his status, could it? He found that the only poor outcome of his pursuance was an entire new category of teasing from his siblings, about his increasingly poorly hidden crush, about how "in loooove" he was, the words always drawn out in a singsong voice. He'd deny it to them, of course, he had at least some dignity left to preserve, after all.

He couldn't deny to himself how you charmed him, how the mere mention of your name granted his full attention, oh you? Were you here? Did you want to see him? It was maddening, the way his heart had been tugged and yanked, the way it was threatened to be torn asunder if he never received an answer from you. He knew his pain was largely self inflicted, but had been powerless to stop it until you two began your waltz around one another. He was aware of courtship, idealized it to heaven and back, but the execution was nervewracking; were you enjoying the gifts or merely being polite? He cherished yours. He cherished you, of course fearing you may not feel the same. As the sun's heat lifts fog, his fears dissipated when that waltz had evolved into a slow dance, the warmth seeping into every area of his life.

Oh, how he adored you.

The room suddenly became darker. The credits had finished and the screen had shut off, leaving the two of you silently staring at each other in near darkness, dim silvery starlight trickling in with the breeze from the open window. Pouf suddenly seemed embarrassed.

"I completely lost track of the time..! You must be exhausted-"

"No!" You didn't want him to feel bad about such a good night. You also knew he would probably call you out for lying.

"... I'm just a little tired." You'd also lost track of the time. You fished your phone from your pocket and checked the clock as it flashed up. 1:37AM. Had the movie really been that long? Truthfully, you considered the most likely culprit: the excitement both of you had had for this evening, delaying the meet up for more time to prepare, not noticing the late start until it has brought both of you to this early hour.

"I think I'll stay over here for the night." He would've walked you home, flown you even. He would've viciously fought the desert cold to ensure your safety; you didn't want him to feel he had to. He also would have complained the entire time, his heart wrenching at the thought of having to let you go for a bit. You were finding yourself quite comfortable on the couch, in the sweater, with your partner at your side.

"I'll prepare a bed-" You reached out and took him by the shoulders.

"Actually, I'm comfortable right here."

"Don't be silly, it won't be long-"

"And where will you sleep?" You knew there wasn't an extra bed - the one he'd prepare for you would be his own.

"I don't mind this couch-"

"Well, neither do I."

He fell silent. Were you trying to shrug off his good will? Or was there something deeper being implied in your words that he was simply missing?

You took one of the throw pillows on the couch, something too plush to be a throw, and set it in the corner closest to you before leaning half your weight onto it. You smiled up at him, genuinely becoming quite settled and comfortable on the couch. He still didn't seem so certain; you considered taking a leap, feeling your heart start to pound as you pondered your words.

"I could.. show you how comfortable the couch is."

Nailed it.

He stared blankly back at you. "I've sat here before, I know what it feels like..?" His voice rose at the end of his sentence, genuinely confused by your statement.

"No, uh, let me. show you-" Your response was stilted, awkward pauses scattered throughout. Pouf wasn't dense. He was far from it. He was an incredibly intelligent man, a mind as quick and bright as a flash of lightning. It all fell apart as soon as social dynamics came into play. He struggled with subtext, with tone, with reading emotions without the use of his nen. You would have to be direct with him, stating your intention without hiding it behind your embarrassment of actually asking him for the innocent query that was on your mind.

"... I don't understand what you mean." You begged yourself to just speak up, to tell him what was on your mind. It wasn't even anything excessive - you'd already held him close during the movie. Just ask. Speak up.

"I want to show you that it's comfortable on the couch!" This was not your finest moment. You were stalling.

You took a deep breath.

"I want.. to ask you something." He straightened up immediately. You completely forgot how saying something so vague would set his anxieties alight.

"It's nothing bad," you quickly added. He didn't respond, confused by the barrage of vague words and unreadable signals.

"Are you okay? If you want to leave-"

"I don't!" Oh my god, you couldn't do this. You looked over him. His hands were folded in his lap, even in the low light it was still visible that he was digging his nails into his hands. His expression could be mistaken for vacant if you didn't know him as well as you did. He was in frantic thought, trying to find where he'd gone wrong after such a seemingly successful evening.

The time was passing. You inhaled, gathered resolve, steeled yourself-

"Do you want to cuddle?"

The words didn't even seem to come from you with the way they had slurred together in your nervousness. He was no different - his response was a shrill sound, something almost like a squeak, as both his hands flew to his face, covering his mouth.

A heavy silence settled over you. Having to be so forward felt almost humiliating. Pouf seemed to also be embarrassed for having missed every cue you'd tried to put in front of him. Though, it was admittedly something you very much liked about him. He never made assumptions, always waiting for confirmation instead. It was quite polite, the way he would consistently wait for consent - to make an advancement, to enter an occupied room, to wait until you said you liked something before immediately snatching it up as a future gift. He was moving towards spontaneity - if anything, this evening had been proof of that - but his fear of accidentally making you uncomfortable kept that behavior largely in check. He almost seemed to refuse to read subtext as a result.

Granted, you didn't feel you had been giving off very clear cues.

His gaze fell to his hands. ".. How do you want to do this?"

You scooted to the side of the couch, closer to the edge, then lifted your hands to him, arms fully outstretched. You gave a sheepish smile, offering up the newly opened space to him. He still seemed unsure.

"You're so close to the edge, you'll fall if you lie there." The concern was evident in his voice.

"I think I'll be okay." Your voice was full of warmth as you coaxed him into lying down. He leaned over you, resting himself on his hands as he looked down over you; he was visibly beginning to shrink away as soon as he'd moved closer.

"Are you sure?" His voice had dropped to a whisper.

"Yes." You could see he was smiling as he asked the question, as shaky and tense as he seemed. He was glad you'd asked - you know he almost never would have worked up the courage to ask you himself. Too much to consider, too many variables to account for.

He clumsily lowered himself into the gap between yourself and the back of the couch, moving slowly to disturb you as little as possible. You brought your arms back down as he began to settle, lying on his side with his arms bent close to his chest. He kept his legs straight, trying to not make too much contact between himself and you, a difficult task with how almost comically long his legs were. You turned to your side as well, your head even with his. He was still grinning, almost a little too widely - he was still visibly nervous about being invited into much more intimate quarters with you.

You weren't going to pretend you weren't nervous either. You'd always returned to your own home to sleep, even as Pouf would protest and plead with you to stay; you suspected that he didn't actually know what he would've done if you'd said yes. He would make his bed for you and take the couch, not realizing you may have had a bit more on your mind if you had agreed to stay the night. It was almost odd, he was so close to you, but you couldn't feel any body heat coming from him. He would only cool further with the open window lulling him to sleep.

The two of you stared at one another in silence.

"So.. do you come here often?" You just needed the silence to break in any way possible. He let out a small amused exhale.

"Yes.. I may even live here."

You smiled almost a bit too much at him not missing the joke this time. He would claim that you never made it clear that you were joking, your delivery was too serious and genuine and he simply could never tell.

"I didn't think what I said was that funny.."

You spoke through soft laughter. "No, it's just that..." What were you going to say? It was just what? That he was being cute? That you loved him? That you'd gladly spend every night for the rest of your life with him, just like this?

"You're just... cute, is all."

He immediately shifted, angling his head to look above and away from you, bringing his hands just a bit closer to himself.

"You even moreso." He seemed to say it almost impulsively, as soon as the words had come to him. He'd glanced briefly back at you as he spoke before his eyes immediately darted off in the other direction. God, he was cute.

Your hands were rested next to your face, similar to where his initially had been when he'd first settled. Once he began to relax after his compliment, you could see his eyes shift from empty space, to your face, down to your hands. He stared quite hard, almost as if afraid you might move. He took a deep breath. He played it off, letting it out slowly. He inhaled again.

"...May I.. May I-" His eyes shifted back to your own, "-please.. hold your hand?" The words were awkwardly spaced and almost too quiet for you to hear, but the request was clear enough for you to understand.

"Of course." Your reply was in the same gentle lull he had spoken with. After your affirmation, he reached out, bridging the very short gap between the two of you, laying his fingertips on your hand first. You felt almost shocked at how cold his touch was. His hands were usually cool, but they felt nearly ice cold in that moment. He lowered the rest of his hand, sliding his fingers around the back of your hand, his thumb curling over from the opposite side. You folded your fingers inward, brushing them over his own.

He smiled in bliss. It took very little to make him feel truly happy; anything that demonstrated your love to him was prioritized in his mind above all else. Your affections were one of the few things his anxieties couldn't touch. For certain, he still held fears about the relationship as a whole, but many of them had eased with time. He felt certain you weren't going to leave him, that your affections were genuine, that you saw him, really saw him and loved what you saw. And in that moment, all of that broke upon like a wave breaking onto a shoreline.

You could see tears in his eyes, glistening in the starlight. He smiled just as widely as he had been, looking into your eyes as he loosely held your hand.

"I love you.." He was barely audible as he confessed. He had never said the words to you. It was clear and evident to anyone who saw the two of you that you loved each other deeply, and of course you'd shown each other that love in a variety of ways. Words weren't his strong suit - he struggled greatly with articulation when it came to emotions. To see him able to pull it all together, for even this brief moment, was absolutely priceless. It was a memory you would treasure long after the night was over.

You felt tears begin to sting your own eyes.

"I love you too."

His tears fell, quick streaks of shining silver down the side of his face. He'd summoned everything he'd had in himself to physically say the words to you, and you'd returned them with no hesitation. His vulnerability had been rewarded almost immediately with validation, he couldn't help but begin to cry in joy.

You yawned.

You didn't mean to break up such a deeply tender moment, but sleep had been creeping up to you since the movie had finished. Pouf's demeanor immediately changed.

"I'm sorry, I forgot how late it was-"

"Oh, hush."

The tears were still bright on his face. Of course he was concerned for you, it was what he did best. He didn't need as much sleep, as much food, could withstand heavier hits. He treated you as though you were made of glass, constantly checking in to make sure you've eaten enough, that you've slept enough, that him putting a hand on your shoulder hadn't been too rough. He struggled to understand human needs, but he'd be damned if he didn't do his best to try to meet them. You knew his mood would start to fall again if you let him think he was depriving you of a basic need.

"I am getting a little tired.. goodnight?" You deliberately phrased it as a question, giving him a chance to give his own thoughts.

His eyes softened.

"Goodnight."

You could tell that didn't seem to be all.

He was searching for words again, loosening his grip on your hand.

"I would like to.." He stopped entirely. "May I.." He paused again. He seemed to he struggling with the same embarrassment you had confronted earlier. You knew whatever he wanted was innocuous. You two had already gotten handsy an hour ago, it wasn't as though there was anything more nervewrackingly intimate he could look you in the eyes to ask for.

"... Goodnight kiss?" He said the words to put them on the table, dropping the entire first half of the sentence. You flashed him a dreamy smile.

"Of course."

You moved your hand, with him immediately letting go as you brought it to rest on his cheek, leaning in, lifting your head and resting it closer to him, softly pressing your lips to his, feeling him reciprocate. The moment was wrapped in a haze from your exhaustion, yet it stood out like a vivid dream you didn't want to end. You pulled away, a silly thought forming in the back of your mind.

"Hold on, I don't think I did that right, let me try again." You immediately went back in for a second kiss, hearing him softly laugh before he sank back into your touch.

"Hm.. maybe one more, just to make sure."

You felt his hand slide onto your own cheek, mimicking the position you held your own on his face. Your hand slid up, just enough to tangle your fingers in his hair, feeling the way the soft locks parted with your touch. You could dimly feel him move his legs over and between your own, tangling them together. He broke away for a brief moment, mumbling against your lips a small statement, an almost inaudible, "I want to hold you", to which you happily obliged, moving just enough for him to slip his other hand beneath you, wrapping his arm around your torso. For as intimate as the two of you were in that moment, it wasn't particularly heated - both of you were beginning to succumb to your exhaustions. You felt yourself beginning to drop off as he slowed, pressing a few more lazy kisses to your mouth; you smiled against his lips as he finally broke away, nuzzling your face as a final loving gesture.

You spoke first, "I love you."

He smiled, full of warmth in spite of the cold room.

"I love you too." The way he worded it was almost unlike him. You would've expected to hear "as well" or "also", but he kept the phrasing conventional, exactly as he would have read about it. Exactly as you would've expected to hear. Perfect, just for you.

He removed his hand from your cheek, moving it along your back as he wrapped you in his other arm as well, pulling you closer. You grinned as you had one last thought about making the night unforgettable for him.

You yawned once more, asking, "Hey, do you still want to cuddle?" You took your hand off of his face and gently tapped your own chest. He hummed in confusion, not understanding the gesture. You shifted your posture as he loosened his grip enough to allow you to move, scooting yourself a bit farther up the couch, bringing your head near the top of the pillow. He watched you with a dim, drowsy curiosity. When you settled, you lazily lifted your arms to him.

"Come here."

His eyes widened enough for him to appear fully alert once more.

"Are you certain?"

Always the gentleman.

"Mm-hm."

He let go of the awkward grip he had on you, repositioning his hands as he moved to lay his head on your chest, hesitating for a moment but replaying your reassurance in the back of his mind. He rested his head against you, motioning to hug you again, snuggling into you as you also pulled him close. You bowed your head, picking up that faint lavender scent again, kissing him one final time.

"Goodnight lovebug."

A lovestruck giggle.

"Goodnight... Goodnight." You had been able to immediately seize the low hanging fruit for a pet name; he hadn't gotten quite so far yet.

You could feel his breathing already beginning to level out as he fell asleep in your arms, feeling yourself about to do the same. His heart had beaten so fast when he cuddled up to you, and now it had calmed in his respite. You'd seen his bed and the multitude of pillows and stuffed animals he kept on it (he swore he wasn't attached to the animals - you swore he was a terrible liar). He seemed just as comfortable using you as a pillow. You weren't going to keep awake for much longer, using your last handful of spare minutes to imagine the scene, the way he fully curled into you, arms wrapped and legs tangled, wings trailing behind him down the length of the couch, his head positioned just so that his antennae were kept aloft. An unbelievably powerful insect, fueled by loyalty and devotion, the depths of which you could scarecely even begin to imagine, an absolutely fearsome creature indeed - on a couch, snuggled up with his favorite human, already lapsing into a dream. In spite of it all, you two seemed to make the impossible a reality. It was what you got for dating an artist, a dreamer.

A dream that would carry on long after the morning sun arose.

[rga531]

The Scar that Hurts

Summary, chapter 1/6: The Monster Princess, overlord of the Fallavin Empire, the terror of all the peoples of Tabula, was once just a girl. Not that anyone would believe that...

Word count: 1732.

Next chapter →

The calendar in Tabula starts at the Year Zero. Unlike Earth’s history, there was nothing before the Year Zero. It was a point that no human existed and, then, an entire civilization emerged, as if sprouting overnight.

Because it happened like that.

The humans of Tabula never understood why they were spirited away to that world. Other civilizational species had similar stories. But humans never truly coped with it. No matter how they discussed, they couldn’t blame anyone. It was a fatality. The memory of the World Before faded each millennium, no matter how well the Atlantean capital preserved its relics.

Ripped off from their home and beliefs, humans turned to mathematics to find comfort. In a world full of uncertainty, it was comforting to know that two plus two was four, that the hypothenuse of a triangle is the sum of the squares of the two other sides, that pi existed. Calculating odds was both a pastime, a science and a prayer to Chance themselves. Their natural philosophy would resemble more modern-day quantum physics because they realize they lived in a probabilistic universe – God does play dice, for they were his dices.

The Scar of the Year Zero rudely taught them that.

It was said that the chances of the Scar happening were the same as the king of Atlana phase through his throne. It was a number incomprehensibly small, but never zero.

Where once idols and shrines filled the walls of temples and home-spirits inhabited their houses, now there were engravings of mathematical formulas. To remind them that there were certain things in the world that were certain and to draw comfort from them. Even the poorest tried to learn how to read and do math, to feel themselves better. From the highest king to the lowest peasant, math acted as a soothing prayer. Instead of bent knees and clasped hands, men and women picked chalk and pens to write symbols and equations on whatever they could.

Therefore, Tojava was in a sense praying. Her mother tasked her with one request: find a way to solve the “problem of evil” – how to make people act good. It was a strange request, but her mother promised that she would be a wise heir to the throne of Fallave if she found a solution to it. The entire court approved it.

They all seemed a bit afraid when asking that. For all the time she had existed, they always had that sense of dread whenever she approached them.

It must’ve been her status. She was the princess, after all. Because she was taught from tender age to be a good person. Sage Sanxamas always made sure to her that she knew all there was to known in Tabula.

The princess of a beautiful kingdom, she was 12. She was much taller than the average kid. Many already counted her as an adult for her height only. Her blue hair was tied in a bun, but it was clear it’s been a couple of days since she last took care of it, with knots and chalk dirt on it. As she completed another row of equations, her fingers became callous; there was so much chalk in her clothes.

She gave a small, frustrated grunt when she saw the end of the wall nearby. Her red eyes squinted. Her scribbles became more and more furious, rushing to fit the equation in the remaining space.

The chalk stick in her hand broke.

She grunted again. She was almost in the end. Not wanting to waste time, black and white flames surrounded her hand and then the stick. It was restored to its original form; Tojava continued writing as if nothing happened.

Among the sages of Tabula, there was hope that someone would unveil a “social math”, that would give them instructions how to be a good person, how to find meaning in life. The poor would’ve known exactly how well they should work to live a good life. There would be no more waste and hunger. People would have kids according to each family’s necessity, so that there would be enough resources to sustain the population. They could control the uncontrollable.

They could even heal the Scar, or at least mitigate its effects.

This was Tojava’s mission: to solve the problem of evil. Then, after math taught how humans should they should live, she could convince them to act accordingly and solve this problem.

The prayer of symbols and equations will be answered.

And she was the perfect person to finish this prayer. Her math skills were unprecedent. Her knowledge in philosophy, ethics and natural sciences was astonishing for a person of her age. All her teachers had glowing reviews of her work. They even stopped peer-reviewing her calculations because they were simply too advanced for them.

It was her duty. She had no choice but to accept it. To control math was to control her powers. That’s what sage Sanxamas said. When she asked if he was sure, he replied with a sincere ‘no’. But it would help her clean her mind and becoming a good person.

It was too much work. But she could take it. Sometimes, she wished she could’ve played more. Again, friends were difficult for some reason. Thankfully Etrien managed to convince others to play with her. More kids came to play with her, but, no matter, what she always had the villain role. When she asked to be one of the good guys, the others refused, claiming it was unfair because she was too big.

It was fair, she guessed.

She thought of that when she finished her prayer. In the basement of one of the royal family’s summer residences, Tojava had all the walls under it with scribbles of equations. She already filled the first two stories above. Formulae that would look esoteric even to the greatest mathematicians of Earth – both because Tabulan humans developed a different system of symbols and because Tojava created new theorems and estimations almost each time she returned to the house – were simple drafts for her.

The residence itself was scarcely used and, when the princess requested for personal reasons, there was no point in denying her. Soon, it became known in the court as the “Math Palace”. At first, she just wanted a secluded place to think, bringing enough, expensive paper to fill a book. Then, when the paper ended and she refused to reuse it, she picked some chalk and started writing on the table. The paper and ink still came, but it always took too long, so she simply decided to just start writing on the walls. The only reason why she didn’t write in the floor was because her steps would blur the equations. In a few months, both stories had their walls filled with equations. Then, she went to the basement, where the foundations of the house were, with more walls, only needing a source of light.

She sat down on the floor, staring at the last solution of the equation.

“Zero, again…”

The symbol of the crossed dot was everywhere in the house, always the end of the long strings of equations.

She started to whimper. She could feel tears coming down from her eyes, while she stared hopelessly the zero in the wall.

“Toji, why are you still here?”

“Ah! Etrien!”

Snapping out, she looked behind and saw Etrien, holding a lantern.

“Why do you always do that?”

“What’s happening? Why are your eyes red? Don’t tell me you were crying, I…uh…don’t know what to do when women cry.”

Tojava remained silent.

“Toji, uh…why…why are you crying?”

He sounded so awkward that a small bit of her wanted to laugh. Etrien was never good at showing other emotions than being serious.

She cleared her throat. Maybe crying was a sign of weakness. Unbecoming of a future queen.

“Etrien, I have discovered a terrible thing. We are going to die.”

“Why is it a problem? We all will die.”

The Scar had hurt their perception of death as well. Since young age, humans from Tabula had to understand death, more than one could expect.

“You don’t understand, Etri. Do you remember when mother asked me to solve the problem of evil?”

“Yes, you mentioned that.”

“No matter the scenarios, the different probabilities, the most optimistic evaluations, it always ends with evil triumphing and humanity getting extinct.”

“What? This is ridiculous.”

“Yes…but if we have to consider that to destroy is easier than to create and that we have to destroy to create. If I assign values to creation and to destruction, I can put them into an equation.”

She stopped to sigh.

“I tried everything, from giving humanity infinite resources, to removing all our enemies, but it just…it’s like there is something that makes humanity march forward to extinction.”

“Toji, this is too much for me. This is something you should discuss with my brother. He likes you, you know?”

“But, Etrien, you don’t understand! There is something in humans’ desires that makes them fall. Even if they choose to be good, they cannot make this choice consistent and constant to guarantee the triumph of good in the end. What if kindness isn’t enough? Love, hope, trust. The equations say…”

“Toji, I don’t think you’re making sense. Remember what big brother said: life is short, be glad and enjoy with your close ones and yourself.”

Tojava remained silent.

“Well, of course I don’t know how to say this. We’re kids, Toji. My brother can understand you, but I…” He stopped and looked down. Tojava raised an eyebrow, Etrien seemed regretful of something. He turned up and said, with determination that seemed out of place in relation to its content, “We are royalty, we can enjoy life to its fullest.” That sounded awkward, but he continued nonetheless. "Come on, the summer banquet is about to start. They made honey cakes, my favorite!”

Tojava looked down. Maybe she needed to cool down her head after that day’s exercises. She really stretched herself because she wanted to finish before the banquet; it was her most complex model, with ten walls of equations. She was proud of it and couldn’t wait to show it the adults.

Thus, she nodded and followed Etrien to their carriage. She could think of a better model later, one that could give other solution than zero.

[bindupthesebrokenbones]

Man I'm really dropping the ball this week aren't I? After failing to post this yesterday, I thought about just skipping a day, but I don't like to do that. So I definitely need to load up two posts today!

Today I'm gonna give you all some suggestions/ideas for grazing trays. These are great for a lot of things - I use them for both parties and low energy days, but you could also use them for when you have just one or two friends hanging out, or if you have kids and they have team activities that you need to provide food/snacks for!

Grazing trays are trays full of bite-sized foods, somewhat similar to/inspired by a charcuterie board, that you can pick at throughout the day, or over the course of a few hours. I often use them in place of a full, single plate meal if I don't want to cook.

Although I say these are low energy, I want to emphasize that they do take prep work! Normally I have a day where I do all my food prep - washing, cutting, portioning, etc. - and so on low energy days I already have those things ready to toss onto a tray and go.

If you don't do that, then this is gonna take a little bit more work. But let's get into it!

What to Put on Your Tray

The most important step is deciding WHAT is going on your tray. Keep in mind that most fruits and vegetables will be fine at room temperature for a long while, but meats and cheeses are only safe at room temperature for about 4 hours, and cooked foods taken off the heat should be eaten or refrigerated within 2-4 hours.

Cold Grazing Options

Fruits

Vegetables

Sliced or Diced cheeses

Deli meats

Nuts

Crackers

Bread/Rolls

Pretzels

Granola

Dry Cereal

Pickles

Jams/Preserves

Honey

Condiments/Dips

Tiny Sandwiches

Warm/Hot Grazing Options

Pigs in Blankets

Egg Rolls

Wantons

Chicken Wings

Tiny Grilled Sandwiches

Garlic Knots

Sweet Tray Options

Candy

Marshmallows

Chocolate

Caramel

Mints

The Anatomy of the Grazing Tray

There are no rules when it comes to how you set up your tray. I searched up a few ideas on Google (I only have round trays and wanted to show off some more options!), and there are a lot of common layouts:

The Round Tray

Round trays seem to be the top choice for rainbow/color sorting enthusiasts. I suppose no true artist can resist a color wheel.

[Image ID: a round grazing tray featuring sweets/desserts arranged by color in a striped pattern around the circumference]

[Image ID: a round grazing tray with sweet and savory foods arranged by color in pie slice sections]

[Image ID: A round grazing tray featuring fruits and vegetables, meats and cheeses, and flowers, all cut and arranged in a decorative/floral aesthetic rainbow pattern]

The Square/Rectangle Tray

Square and Rectangle trays tend to be the standard, and people really let their creativity fly with these. I have a few images here, but if you're into creative trays and want to take the time to make yours extra fancy, search for "Themed Charcuterie Board" on your favorite search engine to find ideas for holidays, movies, game nights, and more.

[Image ID: An Easter-themed rectangle grazing tray featuring fruits, vegetables, meats, cheese, crackers, eggs, nuts, and chocolate]

[Image ID: A densely packed rectangle grazing tray with fruits, vegetables, meats, cookie sandwiches, and condiments]

[Image ID: A mostly savory rectangle grazing board with vegetables, cheese, crackers, meats, and condiments, with a portion of fruits in two corners]

The Grazing Table

Grazing tables are essentially a snack buffet. These are ideal for large groups and parties.

[Image ID: A long outdoor table with multiple trays and baskets of food laid out from end to end. Foods include fruit, vegetables, crackers, breads, meals, cheeses, and macarons. Greenery is added to the table as filler/decoration]

The Sectioned Tray

[Image ID: A divided serving tray in a rattan basket featuring fruits, nuts, and crackers]

[Image ID: A box with removable bowl sections filled with fruits and cheeses]

[Image ID: A muffin/cupcake baking pan being used as a sectioned snack tray for fruits, vegetables, cheese, meat, crackers, and nuts]

The Fun and Unusual Tray

Just about anything can be used as a grazing tray. If you have any oddly shaped platters or storage containers, give them a try! You can also use normal rectangle or round trays, but arrange your food in a fun or unusual way.

[Image ID: A "Snacklebox", a plastic tackle box where the adjustable sections inside are used for snack foods. This example has fruits, crackers, popcorn, vegetables, cheese, and nuts]

[Image ID: A tray of fruits, cheeses, and meats arranged to look like a Christmas tree]

[galdrecraft]

Chaos Myrtle Hinged Box with Brass Hardware

exterior 4x4x3.75 interior 3x3x2.75 Sometimes a beautiful piece of wood has too many flaws to use it right away, or even after fixing it up a bit. Sometimes there are so many weird voids and splits knots and twists, that though the wood between is sound you can only make a choice.. to abandon it completely or tape it off and fill it with left over epoxy resin from countless resin pours until a usable board of material is formed. This is chaos hardwood. Now using this unique material is another thing entirely, you can't get too complicated with it b/c of its mixed construction but you can make a simple box made entirely unique by this wood-saving technique. A piece of lovely coast myrtle I have been giving just such a treatment too recently reached "usable" level and so I cleaned up the mess, dimension it into usable lumber and made a simple square hinged box. An excellent box to store dice, counters, baubles, trinkets, mementos etc. All brass hardware. Tung oil and bees wax finish. Care Sheet View in Shop

[puzzlenation]

PuzzleNation Product Review: Knot Dice and Knot Dice Squared

In today's blog post, we tie ourselves in puzzly knots as we review Knot Dice and Knot Dice Squared!

[Note: I received a free copy of this game in exchange for a fair, unbiased review. Due diligence, full disclosure, and all that.]

You can easily lose yourself in a Celtic knot design if you stare long enough. Elaborate unbroken paths, formed within circles, crosses, and other shapes, weave together in compelling patterns.

There are many dice games on the market today, but none of them capture…

[the-rxven-king]

im making a trans flag dice bag and um. its gonna be fuckin Huge

[irrelevantwriter]

White Flag

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, public sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mention of bodily fluids, slightly vulnerable Rio, declaration of feelings (sorta?)

Word Count: 4.3K

Summary: Part 5. Two months without seeing or speaking to Rio has left a significant mark and feelings finally decide to show themselves. Kinda.

A/N: I hope everyone had a good holiday or at least a chill Friday. I come bearing gifts with the next part of our favorite toxic saga. More smut for my lovely readers. But first, some plot. We jump right into it and just like our favorite non-couple, we gloss over a lot of bullshit and get right to the filth. But as a Virgo I love communication so I have to make these two stubborn assholes talk about their issues a little. At least in a vague way. Also, Rio has his read receipts on bc he is a petty king. There’s one more part after this and it's all naughty fun from here. I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

A/N dos: I’m thinking about making the next part strictly from Rio’s POV. I feel like it’ll give us a peek into what he’s thinking and a new take on the series thus far. I’m excited to explore that so let me know what you guys think!

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 6 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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

“So you’re just gonna eye fuck the hot stranger at the bar all night?”

Your friend’s teasing cut through the haze, jolting you back to the dimly lit bar. The music boomed around you while people drank and danced, enjoying the Saturday night out in the same way you and your girlfriends were.

“I was not.” You insisted, though the coy smile you wore said otherwise.

The group of women scoffed and rolled their eyes, seeing right through your faux innocence.

“Besides,” You started, taking a sip of your drink as the song changed into a bass heavy melody. “He’s not even my type.”

“Oh, bullshit!” Kara interjected with a raised brow, shaking her head.

You opened your mouth in surprise, but bit back your response when the other women chimed in.

“She’s right.” Evelyn agreed, throwing her dark hair over one shoulder.

“We knew you in high school and college, remember?” Nikki threw in, pursing her lips knowingly in your direction.

“Okay, so?” You said with a poor attempt at nonchalance.

“You were all over guys like that when we were kids. Paul ended up being the black sheep of the bunch.” Kara reminded you with a laugh, Evelyn and Nikki joining in with their own drunken giggles.

“Yeah, we were convinced you’d marry a felon with tattoos and not a real estate broker who wore khakis.” Nikki quipped, causing another round of laughter and snorts.

“Okay, okay...I get it. So I had a type. I think I’ve grown out of it.” You cut in, sounding as if you were trying to convince them as much as yourself.

“Not if the hottie at the bar has anything to say about it.” Evelyn joked with a wink.

You shook your head as you took another sip of your drink, unwilling to let them see you flustered. Or that they were in fact correct. You definitely still had a thing for bad boys...bad men to be more specific.

The evening had been going smoothly so far. It was a rare girl’s night out. An event that happened only once every five years when kids were shuttled off to babysitters or their fathers, and the women were able to enjoy an adult meal with adult beverages. Schedules between four busy women didn’t often align so when they did, you all jumped at the chance to indulge in the nightlife you’d left behind in your younger years.

You’d been the one to suggest the bar. It was a swanky, sophisticated space with an air of youth. The perfect mix for your outing. You’d been here only one other time.

With Rio.

Thinking of the man made heat pool low in your stomach, despite your lingering frustrations. It’d been two months since that shit show of a night at your house. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him since. After that debacle, you blocked his number. As childish as it may have been, you were angry. Still were. And rightfully so. He’d been a complete dick. He’d chosen the most inopportune moment to make adjustments to your arrangement. He’d been careless in his deliverance, harsh even. The entire exchange had you questioning everything. And instead of analyzing the situation and communicating like adults, you’d decided to stop all interactions with him. You’d wanted to send a message. Just as he had with you.

After the argument, you’d been an anxious mess in the days leading up to the next drop. But it was all for nothing because Rio wasn’t there. And neither was the new contact he’d told you about. Instead, Mick was waiting for you and offering up no other information. And it’d been that way for two long months.

In the days since, your mind wandered to Rio often. Your body lingered on his phantom presence constantly. You replayed the conversation you’d had a million times over and each time it made deep fury spill over and mix with the lust still raging like white water rapids through your veins. You missed his touch. Missed his desire for you. Missed the way he made you feel, so supremely sexual and wanton. All things you’d been lacking in your marriage. And now they were suddenly hitting you square in the face and begging you to pay attention. Begging you to not lose the source of your sudden awakening.

You missed the toxicity of your interactions. You were two twisted souls fighting for control over a situation that belonged to neither of you. And in truth, the basis of your relationship with Rio was denial and attraction. It would continue to thrive on that as long as you both refused the obvious.

So maybe, just maybe you’d come to the bar in hopes of seeing him in order to test that theory. It was a slim chance he’d even be here, but you were just buzzed enough that you were willing to roll the dice and find out. Plus, your desire for him felt like an extension of your body at this point. You had to satiate it. Had to feed the raw passion that grew stronger each day without him. It demanded it. And it wasn’t for lack of trying. But your own hand didn’t ignite your body the same way his did, asshole or not.

“I’ll be back.” You called over the music, gesturing to the darkened hallway that predictably led to the bathrooms. Your friends nodded and went back to flirting with the handsome blue-eyed waiter.

You shot a meaningful glance in the direction of the bar. To the “hot stranger”. Whether or not he’d take the hint was on him.

You made it to the single-use bathroom easily. It wasn’t late enough for it to be crowded with the surge of a Saturday night crowd, but the place was still busy. You set your purse down on the sleek surface of the sink counter, admiring the emerald green tiles that paved the walls. The fixtures were brass and gleamed in the light of the vanity bulbs. It was a beautiful space. Carefully crafted for a magazine like Architectural Digest.

Your eyes swept over your reflection in the large mirror that sat over the sink. You made sure not a lash was out of place as you surveyed your appearance. You adjusted the low neckline of your yellow dress, the hue radiating more gold than you’d initially noticed. The silk material felt cool against your heated skin, the slit in the skirt offering some relief. The long sleeves of the garment added a sleekness to the otherwise risqué ensemble. You’d never worn the dress. But tonight seemed as good a time as any to debut it.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open made you pause, eyes watching in the mirror for who entered. You wondered if it’d be him. Wondered if he ended up following you like you’d hoped.

Your stomach knotted when Rio stepped in, closing the door and locking it with a resounding click. He was stoic. Shrouded in black and looking every bit as menacing as he truly was. A sight for your sore eyes.

You turned to face him, your chest both tightening and expanding at seeing him in the flesh. He made your heart stutter and your spine tingle, yet irritation slowly seeped into your pores, reminding you of the last interaction you’d had with him. It was a clash of sensations and feelings. It was utter chaos. And it's what you’d been missing.

Silence hung in the air as his gaze roamed your figure, appraising you hungrily. You shivered, careful to hide the gesture from his intense stare. You schooled your features and angled your chin up in confidence that you weren’t entirely sure you felt. But you weren’t going to budge. You were going to make him come to you.

He was leaning up against the door, a barely there smirk adorning his lips. His scent began to eclipse the smell of vanilla soap that permeated the air. Your eyes wanted to roll back at the familiarity of it. It was soothing. A comfort to your deprived senses.

“You miss me, mama?”

That deep rasp made your panties soak immediately. It was a question he’d asked you many times in the past, but you’d never felt it as much as you did now. Because yeah, you did fucking miss him.

You stayed silent.

He chucked at your refusal to answer. “Still mad at me?”

Again you said nothing.

He licked his lips, eyeing yours as he did. “I tried calling.”

“I blocked your number.” You finally responded, voice icy and detached.

“Damn, that’s cold.” He said with an amused shake of his head and a laugh, the sound making your nipples harden in traitorous lust.

“Why? Did you need something?” You questioned coolly, crossing your arms over your chest to hide your mounting arousal. Your thighs rubbed together, beginning to slid against each other as your arousal made itself known.

He stepped forward, heading in your direction with intent. You straightened your back, unwilling to let him get the upper hand on you. You knew what was going to happen. Knew where this was headed. So why not use it to your advantage? Why not toy with him for a change? He deserved it. 

You used the added height of your heels and eased yourself onto the countertop, parting your thighs slightly so that your dress fell between them. You leaned back on your hands, the chill of the marble countertop beneath you reminding you so much of that day in your kitchen.

Rio’s steps halted momentarily as he watched you, eyes zeroed in on the juncture between your thighs that was hidden behind the silk. Your pussy practically begged for his attention. Dared him to see your need through the fabric that shielded you.

You were still upset with him. Still displeased with the way he’d chosen to handle the situation and you. But more than anything you wanted him to succumb to you. You wanted to feel that thrill of having him at your mercy. So powerful, yet so fragile in the midst of his bliss. You wanted...no, needed him to wave his white flag first.

“Tell me then,” You began, slowly easing the hem of your dress up as you spoke. “Business or personal?” You questioned, wanting to know if he’d be truthful about why he’d tried to contact you.

He resumed his path towards you with a dangerous lick of his lips, but his gaze never faltered as it took in every new stretch of skin that was revealed. He tried to reach out and touch you, but you raised a heeled foot to his abdomen and stopped him, keeping him at a distance.

“Answer me.” You breathily demanded.

His face registered your words while his eyes took in the stretch of leg that kept him away. You eased the limb back down and waited for him to comply.

He decided to play along.

“Business.”

He continued walking when you didn’t stop him, standing between your legs and trailing his fingertips along the inside of them. His movements shifted your dress up even higher onto your thighs. The sensation would’ve tickled if you weren’t already deliriously turned on.

“Liar.” You accused, already feeling his warmth radiate onto you as he edged closer. His breath mingled with yours, mint and whiskey assaulting your nose.

“So are you.” He retorted, eyes planted firmly on your parted lips. He moved in until you were sure he could do nothing else but touch his mouth to yours. And yet you still weren’t going to meet him.

“So we’re both liars?” You asked, arching a brow up at him.

“Yeah.” He nodded and swallowed, the tattoo splashed across his throat pulling your focus. You fell captive to his spell as you got lost in memories of licking and sucking the inked flesh, remembering the way he tasted on your tongue. The recollection caused your legs to widen and your back to arch into him, pushing your chest against his. God, you wanted him. You wanted him so badly that your pussy clenched around nothing, as if feeling him already deep inside you. It was a silent call to a lover. One he would never hear. But he’d feel it soon enough.

Your clit throbbed against your lace panties, aching to be assaulted by his talented fingers. With him so close you could feel just how badly you needed him inside you. It felt wrong for him not to be. Felt wrong to not have him share a pulse with you when he was this near. You were going to remedy that.

“Well then,” You whispered, leaning forward to hover over his lips. “I don’t want you to fuck me in this bathroom.”

His hands glided up your thighs while his nose skimmed along your cheek. His breath was hot against your ear as he maneuvered himself so that barely a sliver of air was left between you.

“So I won’t.” He lied in return, the words coating you like his cum had done numerous times before.

In an instant your lips were being pulled to his. His hands were suddenly everywhere and all at once, seeking out your flesh in desperation. It pleased you to know just how badly he needed you. How badly he craved you.

He slid you closer to him, letting your lace-covered lower half come into contact with his crotch. Ragged breaths and low hums filtered through the air as your bodies grinded against each other, seeking firm hands. You could feel him pressed against the zipper of his dark pants. He was hard. The notion made you moan into his mouth, scraping your nails over his scalp.

It was just like riding a bike. Except there was an added layer of intensity this time that hadn’t been there before. His touch burned hotter than usual. Your grew cunt wetter with every pass of his tongue along yours. They weren’t new sensations, but they felt different. Indescribable. Perhaps it was the public sex. Perhaps it was the underlying tension. Either way, it was remarkably explosive.

You pulled away from his insistent lips to take in air. He continued on, mouth moving over your neck and across your exposed cleavage. He nipped at the flesh, his lips sensuously soothing the area as he explored. You pushed into him in invitation, widening your legs so that he could press harder into you.

You waited for him to take the next step. Waited for him to escalate the moment into more than just heavy-petting and sloppy kisses. His hands, as if reading your mind, traveled up the skirt of your dress and found the edge of your panties. There was no hesitation or teasing in his movements as he roughly pulled them off, the elastic popping against your skin and making you cry out.

Rio licked at your neck in apology, his own hands now moving to his belt. You shifted closer to the ledge of the counter and followed the trail of heat that led to his pulsing cock. His flesh bumped against you, the feel of him hot and heavy along your soaked slit making you whimper.

Your nails dug into the fabric of his shirt as he pushed forward and sheathed himself inside of you in one hard thrust. You gasped and tightened your legs around him, your right hand in search of something solid. It landed on the mirror behind you, your palm sticking to its cool surface as you braced yourself for the inevitable.

His facial hair scratched at your skin as he buried himself into your neck. He held your hips steady as he retreated and then plunged back into your welcoming walls, stretching you with a burn that made you hiss. Your pussy massaged his length with fervor, seducing him further inside and begging him to claim you once again.

You reached for anything you could to stabilize yourself as he fucked you into the reflective glass at your back. Moans and groans intertwined as your bodies rocked against each other. The soap dispenser fell into the sink with a loud clatter as you accidentally made contact with it. The stack of towels folded neatly near the faucet became disheveled as your ass knocked them out of place with the momentum from Rio’s cock. The entire vanity shook with each intensely thorough thrust of his hips into your womb. It was animalistic. The very epitome of what bathroom  sex in a bar should be.

No words were said. None were needed. Your actions led the conversation.

You squeezed your inner muscles around him, daring him to surrender before you. He twitched, his hips stuttering at the feel of you so tight and wet around him. He growled into your ear, a sure sign that he loved the gesture a little too much.

So you did it again.

“Stop that shit.” He grunted, hips picking up their pace.

“Cum.” You whispered in response, the demand disguised as a request.

“Fuck…” He groaned when you held him to you and clenched around him once more. You trapped him, giving him no choice but to experience your deliberate enticement. His fingers dug into your thighs almost painfully so, forcing you to wince.

He was close.

You reached between your bodies and massaged your clit, feeling your pussy react immediately. Sporadic tremors vibrated your walls and his cock, making both of you moan. Rio’s palm slammed into the mirror at your back as he rutted his hips harder into yours. He was rough and unforgiving, the aggression heightened by your disobedience. It had never quite been like this. There had always been a touch of softness, a soothing placation or word of encouragement. Not tonight. Not as he fucked you so hard you were sure the mirror was going to crack and rain down luminescent crystals of glass over you both.

You showed no mercy as you forced him to submit to you and your body. The precipice was there. It was within reach. You could feel that tightly wound coil ready to unravel. It felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Your mind was a prisoner to your pleasure. You thought of nothing but the sweet release that you knew was waiting for you. And it was. It was waiting for you with open arms as Rio finally came, triggering your own climax as he filled you so deliciously full of himself. His entire body tensed within you as he held you firm and painted your shuttering walls.

The familiar sensation only added to your high as your limbs tensed and loosened with each wave of euphoria that washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and catapulted through space as your body struggled to ground itself once again. Rio had gone rigid, letting you ride out your orgasm in peace as you suffocated his cock. His cum was already leaking from your walls before you’d even finished, a trail of him decorating your swollen pussy.

Your eyes fluttered open to see him staring back at you, his lips pulled into a lazy smirk. You mirrored his expression, releasing a breathless chuckle. Your body still hummed in excitement, but this time it was punctuated by the deep satisfaction that radiated from between your thighs.

“You good?” You teased, hands resting on his chest and feeling the rapid beats of his heart beginning to slow.

He laughed, the sound low and tinged with fatigue. “Yeah.”

He licked his lips and took in your disheveled state, gaze catching a glimpse of the lace bra you wore underneath.

“Let me drive you home.” He said suddenly, his arrogance alive and well.

It was on the tip of your tongue to deny him, but you chose not to.

“Sure.”

**********

The car ride was silent.

After your impromptu coupling in the bathroom, you’d made up an excuse about not feeling well to your friends and explained you’d already called an Uber. They were hesitant to let you leave alone, but somehow you’d persuaded them to stay and not follow you. You were sure the alcohol they’d consumed had something to do with it.

With hugs and promises of texts that everyone made it home safe at the end of the night, you departed from the bar with Rio in his Mercedes. He’d been driving for about ten minutes, the air not as tense as it’d once been. He seemed content to let the quiet linger, but you weren’t.

“What happened to the new guy?” You asked, glimpsing his face to gauge his reaction. It was dark in the vehicle, but you could still make out his silhouette amongst the various street lights.

He furrowed his brow and pouted his lips, confusion reading easily across his features.

“What new guy?”

“My new contact. The one I was supposed to have.”

“Didn’t work out. Mick has it handled.” He replied simply, gaze still trained on the road in front of him.

“Okay.” You said with a nod, the dryness in your tone letting him know you didn’t quite believe him.

He wordlessly turned onto your street and came to a stop alongside your driveway, putting the SUV in park. He angled his body to face you, trapping you in his stare.

“It was never about you.”

The question must’ve shown on your face because he continued.

“The switch. It wasn’t about you.”

“Wasn’t very convincing.” You deadpanned, scoffing as you played with the zipper of your clutch.

He didn’t react right away. Instead, he watched you. Watched you in that way that let you know his thoughts were as impure as the counterfeit money he produced.

“You look good in that dress.” He complimented, chin jutting out and gesturing to the fabric that adorned your body.

His praise made warmth bloom in your chest. The kind of warmth that was usually accompanied by butterflies in your stomach.

“Thanks.” You replied evenly, not letting him see just what his words did to you. Though you had a feeling he did, despite not bearing witness to it outright.

“Better without it.” He added with a slide of his wicked tongue across his bottom lip, his teeth following. The action was purposeful. Erotic. Blatant. It was all Rio.

You didn’t respond to his flirting. You only sighed, mirroring his position as you resigned yourself to have an honest conversation with the man.

“So,” You started, forcing your fingers to still. “What is it that you want?”

He eyed you for a long moment. Long enough that you started to feel self-conscious.

“You.”

You nodded, disappointed but not shocked by his reply. The word wasn’t new. Though it was lacking the hollow cockiness that usually accompanied it.

You opened your mouth to respond, but he spoke up before you could.

“In whatever way you’ll let me have you.” He admitted.

The statement caught you off guard. He wasn’t trying to be cute or charming. He wasn’t being placating or condescending. He was being serious, the hardened intensity in his dark orbs softening to a tender resignation that you were sure matched yours.

“What about you? What do you want?” He repeated back to you, eyes narrowing as he waited.

You took a moment to observe him. Your eyes followed the arch of his brows and the sharp jut of his cheekbones. You studied the pout of his lower lip and his Adam's apple as it bobbed with his throat muscles. He was so many things to you. None of which you could put into words. You didn’t think a word had even been invented yet. It didn’t matter. You were both making your own rules. And it seemed, for once, that the both of you were on the same page and playing by the same rules.

“I want you to have me.” You confessed, meeting his gaze.

And there it was. He was resigned to having you in limited capacity. You were resigned to finally letting him have you. Two conclusions coming together at the same moment. You weren’t quite sure what that meant for you both, but it was a start. 

“Goodnight.” You whispered into the darkened cab, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You didn’t wait for him to react. You turned and opened the door, exiting the vehicle. He didn’t try to stop you. You rounded the front of the car, hearing the driver’s side window slide down.

“So I’ll see you next week?” Rio asked out the open window, chin resting in his hand.

“At the drop?”

He nodded.

You shook your head and laughed, though there was no real humor behind it.

“You wanna tell me again it wasn’t about me?” You challenged, a wide grin decorating your face.

He could deny it. He would probably try. But you knew the truth. And that was enough.

For now.

“Night.” He called, an amused upturn of his lips showing in the light of the full moon.

He turned to the street, starting the car as you walked up your driveway. His eyes followed you the whole way, ensuring you made it in safely.

You heard him drive away once you shut and locked the front door, your lungs releasing a long breath. You pulled out your cell phone and went to your blocked caller list. You selected Rio’s number and unblocked the listing, adrenaline releasing into your bloodstream as you did.

Almost immediately your screen lit up with a text.

Same time and place tomorrow?

You bit your lip, feelings akin to teenage infatuation bubbling to the surface. You hastily typed a response.

See you there.

The message was read immediately. 

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl​

[myusernameisstolen]

I’ve got an amazing idea for a Gravity Falls Homestuck AU

I’d love to make a fancomic for it, but I’m nowhere near talented enough to bring it to life, so I’m sending it out into the void to see if anyone else wants to take a whack at it, alter it,  whatever. Here’s what I’ve got written up about it so far:

Bill Cipher

Derse dreamer

Chumhandle: TriangleTrust

Typing Quirk: TYPES IN YELLOW AND ALL CAPS, AND ENDS EVERY SENTENCE WITH AN EXCLAMATION POINT!

Lord of Mind, God-tier: Leprechauns are his henchmaniacs, given mind powers relevant to their canon abilities. Trying to escape his doomed reality by hijacking other players' sessions so he can enter their newborn universes/Axolotls. Has access to all knowledge throughout the multiverse, at least from minds he's capable of understanding – he's gone insane as a consequence.

Denizen: Yaldabaoth

Strife Specibus: GHO;GHWORGHKGHGHROHRkind

Species: Eye – Subspecies: Providence.

Relationships:

Dipper:Puppet

Mabel: Has one-sided kismetic feelings for

Gideon: Puppet

Stanford: Old Toy/Enemy

Fetch Modus: Subdimensional – divides an object into its different dimensions (1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, etc) and the user must reassemble them to access it. Only usable by the Eye species.

Mason “Dipper” Pines

Derse dreamer

Chumhandle: GeminiDucktective

Typing Quirk: Types in black like a normal goddamn person.

Interests: Paranormal, Science, Ducktective (and regular detectives), Mystery genre, Puzzles, Tabletop gaming, Video games, and Hacking (which he isn't good at).

Heir of Space: Will be in charge of breeding the Axolotls. Manipulates Space with compasses and other drawing tools.

Planet: Land of Caves and Axolotls

Denizen: Echidna

Strife Specibus: Shovelkind

Species: Human

Guardian Ancestor: Stanford Pines (Secondary Genetic Donor: Abuelita)

Relationships:

Mabel: Twin Sister

Bill: Online best friend

Pacifica: Frenemy

Wendy: Crush

Fetch Modus: Wallet

Mabel Pines

Prospit Dreamer

Chumhandle: TwinnedBlitzkrieg

Typing Quirk: <3Types in Pink with lots of emojis and stuff!!!!!!:D

Interests: Arts and Crafts, Fiber Arts, Retro Aesthetic, Boys Boys Boys, Boy Bands, Boy Celebrities, Boys in Town, Rainbows, Children's Cartoons.

Sylph of Time: Has time travel powers in the form of a measuring tape. Mostly used to resolve paradoxes and help teammates in times of crisis with knowledge from the future.

Planet: Land of Rainbows and Candy

Denizen: Hephaestus

Strife Specibus: Harpoonkind (her grappling hook falls under this category)

Species: Human

Guardian Ancestor: Stanley Pines (Secondary Genetics: Reshuffled)

Relationships:

Dipper:Twin brother, best friend!

Bill: An obnoxious online presence, what a troll. >:(

Gideon: A little creep who doesn't know when to take a hint.

Candy and Grenda (Nonplayers): Girlfriends!!!!

Fetch Modus: Chutes and Ladders – Creates a virtual grid structure connected by a complex series of ladders and slides. Each square holds one object.

Pacifica Northwest

Derse dreamer

Chumhandle: MagellansMascot

Typing Quirk: Types like a normal person, but in a particular shade of blue.

Interests: Expensive jewelry, Fashion, Minigolf, History, Makeup, Photography, High Art, Buried Treasure, Conspiracy Theories, and Fast Food.

Rogue of Blood: The ectobiologist of this session, and thoroughly freaked out by it. Creates all the paradox clones with the help of a paradoxed note from Mabel in the future. Gains unusual powers of persuasion on entering the game.

Planet: Land of Gold and Roads

Denizen: Nyx

Strife Specibus: Malletkind (uses croquet mallets)

Species: Human

Guardian Ancestor: Mrs. Northwest (Direct Clone)

Relationships:

Dipper: Frenemy/possible crush

Mabel: Frenemy

Soos: A feeling of fondness, in spite of herself.

Mr. Northwest (nonplayer): Hated, especially his stupid little bell.

Fetch Modus: Professional Storage – every time she accesses her inventory, she must pay the rent for the item she retrieves. Cost differs depending on size/value of object, and amount of time kept in the Modus.

Gideon Gleeful

Derse Dreamer

Chumhandle: PsychicSweetheart

Typing Quirk: Types in purple, and makes peoples names (ex: MABEL loves GIDEON) all caps.

Interests: Magic and the Occult, Mabel, Power, Showmanship, Demonology (though he's not actually very well-versed), Clowns, and Cults.

Thief of Mind: Has the ability to steal useful memories from enemies.

Planet: Land of Ice and Dragons

Denizen: Charbydis

Strife Specibus: Robokind (has robots built to fight for him)

Species: Human

Guardian Ancestor: Mr. Gleeful (Secondary Genetic Donor: Genetic Reshuffle)

Relationships:

Mabel: Crush

Dipper: Archrival (nonkismetic)

Bill: Mentor/Ally

Stanley Pines: Lesser Rival

Fetch Modus: Black Tie – a specific tie type and knot must be chosen for each item stored, and tied. Must be untied to access item. No knot may be used twice for different items – exceptions are for items under the same category as an item already held.

Jesus “Soos” Ramirez

Prospit Dreamer

Chumhandle: GregariousGamer

Typing Quirk: lol just types in lowercase with no punctuation dude might pick a color later idk

Interests: Car engines, Fixing old broken things, Arcades/games in general, junk food, charity/helping people, Anime, and EDM.

Mage of Breath: Uses wind spells?

Planet: Land of Palms and Dice

Denizen: Abraxas

Strife Specibus: Wrenchkind

Species: Human

Guardian Ancestor: Abuelita (Secondary Genetic Donor: Stanley Pines)

Relationships:

Dipper & Mabel: Little buddies! Like the siblings he never had growing up.

Wendy: Cool friend/coworker

Stanley Pines: Father figure

Abuelita: Guardian

Fetch Modus: Tool Belt – simple as can be.

Wendy Corduroy

Prospit Dreamer

Chumhandle: BadassCucumber

Typing Quirk: types in lowercase and green.

Interests: Hiking, Woodland scavenging, exploring abandoned buildings, Hunting, Fishing, Kayaking, Woodcarving, Old Horror Movies, and Motorcycles.

Bard of Life: power to heal her teammates' wounds and regenerate during fights.

Planet: Land of Forest and Thread

Denizen: Yaldabaoth

Strife Specibus: Axekind

Species: Human

Guardian Ancestor: Manly Dan (Secondary Genetics: Reshuffled)

Relationships:

Soos: Coworker/friend

Mabel & Dipper: Younger friends

TentacleTherapist: A mysterious self-dubbed “online benefactor” sending Wendy tips and information about the game Sburb. Has impossible knowledge of Wendy's life, and implies that the stakes for this so-called game are much higher than they sound.

Robbie (nonplayer): on-again-off-again boyfriend

Fetch Modus: Toolbelt (recommended by Soos)

The Zodiac

The six players are all displayed on this AU's version of the Cipher Zodiac as their aspects – each of them has their guardian's symbol on the opposite side of the wheel:

Dipper: Space Symbol – Stanford: Six-fingered Hand

Mabel: Time Symbol – Stanley: Fez Symbol

Pacifica: Blood Symbol – Mrs. Northwest: Compass

Gideon: Mind Symbol – Mr. Gleeful: Five-Pointed Star, reversed

Soos: Breath Symbol – Abuelita: Rosy Cross

Wendy: Life Symbol – Manly Dan: Axe in a Stump

This version of the prophecy states that the players and their guardians will either defeat Bill, or “raise him to heights greater than a god.”

If  the session is Scratched, then the B timeline's Zodiac will have the guardians displayed as their aspects, and our main players as their canon symbols.

[polar534]

Slumber Party... OF DOOM!

So. Here is my submission for @johnnysfire ‘s TOH Prompt challenge. For anyone who doesn’t know the prompt chosen was “Evil.”

I asked my lovely friends from discord whether I should go emotional or lighthearted with this and they said lighthearted, so here we are. It was actually really really fun to take a topic like evil and twist it to something fun and hopefully fluffy. I had to keep a lot of things shorter then what I would’ve liked to meet the word count (spoiler alert, I still went a little over), so one day I do plan on fixing this up and making it an actual one shot, detailing the game and everything. Until then, enjoy the read! My idea going in? 

Haunted Boardgame:

(EDIT: Um so Tumblr ate and spat out some paragraphs at random the first time I posted... so hopefully everything is in its correct order. Yikes.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Pillows?" 

"Check."

"Blankets."

"Check!"

"Hot chocolate?"

3 sets of eyes turned to the green-haired witch sitting in the corner. Amity Blight was currently too busy staring at the glow that inexplicably seemed to surround Luz as she sounded off the ingredients for her perfect 'Slumber Party' to notice her companions all staring at her.

"..."

Amity's eyes shifted only slightly to the left as her ear twitched, finally noticing the silence and the fact that everyone was staring at her.

Wait.

Everyone was staring at her.

"Oh um..." Amity looked around panicked, flushing red as she realized she had completely zoned out. She quickly analyzed the scene. Willow had wrapped a fluffy blanket around herself as Gus clutched a pillow excitedly to his chest.

Right. The checklist. Refusing to look at Luz (to avoid any further embarrassment or lapses in attention), Amity quickly reached out and snatched her sound-off item. Only barely remembering what it was at the last moment, Amity somehow saved herself from the splash of scalding liquid that flew out of her mug.

"Hot chocolate, acquired!" She grinned forcibly and altogether too nervously.

Finally risking a glance up to her crush she realized that Luz was giggling, the human's eyes closed as she snicked softly against her hands.

Amity's ears pressed flat against her head as Willow chuckled to her left.

"Well that would be Amity for 'check.'" The plant witch giggled, shifting her body to face Luz excitedly. "So. What happens now?"

"Yes, what new human traditions are you going to show us? I'm so excited!!" Gus squeaked happily, crushing the pillow in arms.

Luz grinned. "Just a little more patience my friend. We've got to start this off correctly. So… if everyone would grab their cocoa, probably a little more gentler then Amity over there, then I'll begin the toast to make this the best slumber party ev-"

THUMP THUMP

Luz stopped short as all those in attendance whipped around to face the door. Amity was finally able to unhunch her shoulders and stare with the rest of her friends at the mysterious knock at the door. The human was inquisitive herself.

"Luz, I thought you said there was supposed to be no one home tonight?" Amity questioned her curiously, cocking her head slightly to the side.

Luz's brow furrowed as she got up.

"There isn't anyone home tonight."

The entire room seemed to hold it's breath as Luz approached the door and pausing for what had to be dramatic effect, opened it sharply.

"HAH! GOT YOU… absolutely nothing…"

Amity peered around Luz's body to see exactly what was going on only to be met with the same sight and disappointment. An empty hallway.

Glancing both ways in the doorframe, the human shrugged nonchalantly as she went to close the door.

"Wait!" Gus cried from behind all of them. Flinging the pillow away from him and into Willow's stomach, he jumped up and dived underneath Luz to swipe something up from the ground.

Holding it proudly over his head both him and Luz marched back into the room, the bedroom door closing softly behind them. Willow and Amity leaned in close as Gus dropped the mysterious object to the ground with a soft and dramatic thump.

"What… is it?" Willow asked curiously, inspecting what looked to be a black rectangular box that lay before them.

"Is this part of the slumber party?" Gus asked curiously as Luz picked up the box and gave it a small shake.

"Not that I'm aware of. Let's open it!" The human said excitably, turning the box over to rip it open.

"Wait!" Amity yelped, grabbing Luz by the arm to stop her. Realizing what she was doing, Amity immediately dropped the contact, blushing profusely as she pointed to a small piece of paper that had fluttered to the ground.

"A note!!" Luz's eyes twinkled, causing the blushing witch to somehow go even redder. "Amity, you should read it for us!"

"What?!" Amity choked in surprise. "Why me?!"

"You found it! Besides you have a nice voice!" Luz explained casually, shaking the box slightly and holding it up to her ear.

Amity found it difficult to breathe as she shakily grabbed the note and held it in front of her, Willow and Gus scooting forward in excitement. Trying to ignore the thundering of her heartbeat in her chest and the full attention of the room, Amity glanced down at the note.

"Dear Sleeping Party attendants! You have been called upon to vanquish the evil from within this board! Inside you'll find what seems to be a normal board game, but is actually a prison for a very powerful and evil spirit! The only way to keep it's villainy contained is to play and win the game. The world is counting on you. Good luck! Mwehehehehehe."

Amity frowned and reread the note to herself. The world? That seemed farfetched to say the least. Where did this box even come from? Who sent it to them? Looking up Amity saw the stars dancing in Luz's eyes. Her crush was sold. Gus was practically buzzing beside her.

"I've heard of objects that could be bound with spirits before, but never like this!" He babbled excitedly.

"I have! You know how many human stories are filled with things like this? How long I've been wanting to do this?!" Luz grinned, finally figuring out how to open the box.

As the top lid slid off, a cheap and busted old board fell to the ground with a cloud of dust. Flipping the box over, a pile of cards, dice and one rather large hour glass spilled out as Luz gave it one final shake. Willow automatically went to organize everything and flipping the board over Amity saw a long and complicated maze pattern. The entire board seemed to be black, with the path cutting along through it a dull, brownish red. It seemed like each square had one of 3 icons sprinkled randomly throughout. In the very, very center of the board there was some sort of design. Amity reached forward and brushed the dust and dirt away from it as Luz and Gus talked excitedly above her.

The chatter quickly faded as everyone's eyes slid to the symbol that Amity had just uncovered. It was carved into the board itself, the deep grooves of the design painted in a faded and chipped white. Luz stared curiously while Gus, Willow and Amity all exchanged a concerned look. The design was simple, a small circle, with 4 tight loops surrounding it in all 4 cardinal directions, connecting in a diamond pattern in the very center of the circle.

The Witch's Knot.

Luz looked up at the plant witch curiously, one eyebrow raised as Amity swallowed the lump that was quickly growing in her throat.

"Oooh. That's elegant." Luz cooed.

"It's not elegant Luz…" Willow breathed quietly.

"That's," Amity pointed at the symbol, "a witch's knot. It's a symbol used to ward off evil."

Luz turned her head down to the board game and nodded. "Oh I get it, because of the evviiiilll theme this game has going on right?" She chuckled lightheartedly. When no one responded in kind, the human became quiet, her grin slowly slipping off her face.

"No. You don't understand. The Witch's Knot isn't just some superstition or tradition. In the Boiling Isles it had been used as a spell, carved to literally seal away evil. It hasn't been used in centuries though." Amity explained further, staring at the ancient white symbol. A cold feeling crept up her back.

Maybe there really was something to this game.

"Well, that makes what I'm about to say next, something that I have wanted to say forever by the way, a little more somber…" Luz gulped as she grabbed the dice Willow had set aside. The human tossed them into the air, and as they all watched the cubes crash down, she spoke again.

"Let the game… begin."

***

Despite the incredibly dramatic and powerful gesture, Luz had no idea how to play the game, none of them did. Luckily for the companions, Willow eventually found the directions taped to the inside lid of the box Luz had tossed aside. They were scribbled out in child-like handwriting but they were detailed enough to understand:

- Rolling the dice will move your character that many steps forward. On the board there are 3 different symbols. These represent your obstacles, fail to complete them and you lose your life. The only way to reverse this death is for a living player to revive you by taking a detour off the fastest route. Be warned, choosing this path will waste precious time and you will be risking your own life. You may only revive one player per game.

- Each player must choose a small token to represent themselves on the board. You will work together with those around you to overcome each obstacle in your path to the sigil. The goal is to reach the end with at least one player still standing to revive the The Witch's Knot protecting us from the evil.

- You may not begin the game until you have flipped the hour glass. If the last grain drains from the timer and you have not reached the end, evil will be unleashed.

-The Board itself is enchanted to tell if the players are worthy. It will be the judge and jury for the challenges you complete.

[ ~ ] Draw a blue card and cast the correct type of magic listed on it at the board. If you fail to cast the correct spell you lose your life.

Below are the symbols you will encounter on your quest:

[ + ] Draw a pink card and complete the challenge listed upon it. If you fail to meet this challenge you lose your life.

[ * ] Draw a green card. Answer the question on it correctly to move forward. If you get it wrong you lose your life.

Now having read through the rules, everyone seemed a lot more hesitant to start.

- When your token reaches the end, the correct lines to reseal the evil will appear. Read them aloud in a strong and clear voice.

"This seems like a bad idea." Amity echoed the thoughts of everyone in the room. Her amber eyes flicked up and caught Luz's warm brown ones. The human gave her a shaky smile.

"Come on Ami," Amity had to remind herself to keep breathing at the idea of her nickname. "It will be fun. Besides… I'm not exactly itching to find out what happens if we don't play." The human admitted quietly. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the dice.

They had all chose board pieces to represent themselves from Luz's large collection of knickknacks. Luz was a small figure of Azura while Amity was Hecate. Gus found himself a tiny rubber chameleon toy while Willow fittingly found a small plastic flower. Each kid seemed to fidget with their tokens as Luz looked at them each in turn. Nodding, the human set her figure down on the start square. Immediately a buzzing sound filled the room and the dull red path illuminated itself. The symbols now glowed their respective card color.

"Well. That seems ominous." Luz laughed nervously, her eyes growing wide as the light from the path traveled towards the Witch's Knot, as it reached the chipped white paint, the symbol flashed, changing it's paint to a bright angry red. "Scratch that. That is just ominous. Is my soul about to be consumed? Did I just sell my soul to a board game?"

Willow set her piece down next, a small ring of light forming around it as the board recognized yet another player.

"Well, I wasn't really using my soul for anything important at the moment. Let's do this." The plant witch grinned and Amity watched as Luz's confidence swiftly returned.

Gus whooped and set his own piece on the board earning him a wide smile from both of his friends. Soon all sets of eyes drifted to Amity who was staring down at the note that had been originally taped to the box. She couldn't shake the horrible suspicion that someone was setting them up. Looking down at the now glowing and obviously magic board, it was clear they were already too far into the trap to back out now. Taking a deep breath she placed Hecate down right next to Azura.

"Alright. Let's do this." Amity nodded, swiftly grabbing the hour glass sitting next to her. "Is uh, everyone ready?"

"Oooh! Can I say it? Amity pleaaaseeee?" Luz jumped in suddenly, startling the green-haired witch into nearly dropping the time piece. Resetting her heartbeat, Amity handed the hourglass to Luz who grinned widely.

"Alright. This time for real. Let the game begin." The human announced as she flipped it and begun their countdown.

The dice magically floated over to Luz as soon as the first grain of sand hit the bottom of the glass. It was clear who was going first. Tossing them out in front of her Luz rolled a 3 and 5. As she reached to move her figure, it zoomed away from her hand, darting forward 8 spaces by itself. The symbol beneath it glowed a bright pink. A challenge space.

Luz grabbed a card, and the race against time began.

Gus was the first to die, his token being swallowed by the board itself after he lost his balance 2 seconds into a 5 second handstand.

Amity was the next to lose to the game. Her concentration on a fireball spell having been completely shattered by Luz's supportive hand laying on her shoulder. Amity knew it wasn't her simply being startled like Luz apologized profusely for, but there was NO way she would be explaining that today. Not over a stupid board game at least. Fate of the world or not.  

Luz and Willow were about 3/4th through the path leading to the sigil when just a few spaces ahead the path split in two. Written in very faint lettering was the words: "Forest of Revival" by the detour path. Looking down it, the companions saw every single square through the 'forest' was lined with knowledge cards. The path itself eventually weaved back to the sigil, but was easily twice as long and packed with symbols.

If they wanted to revive someone it would be a struggle. Deciding to move forward Willow rolled her dice and landed on a spell square.

"Summon a small abomination to pick up your token off the board."

The group fell silent. Willow had never been good at abominations. She slumped in defeat.

Amity had to speak up, the painful memory of her teasing hanging over the entire room.

"You've got this." She said quietly, looking anywhere but Willow.

Luz's eyes flicked worriedly towards Amity, before they turned back to Willow.

"Amity's right. I've seen you do much cooler then a little abomination." Luz cheered helpfully.

"Thanks you two, but I think we both know what happens now." Willow admitted holding a hand up and drawing a pristine circle.

The resulting pile of barely sentient goop unsurprisingly earned a negative reaction from the board and Willow's token disappeared.

Luz wasted no time grabbing the dice for the next turn. They only had about 20 minutes left.

"I'm going to revive someone." She announced, rolling the dice and moving her token into the empty space before the forest.

"Wait, Luz! The forest is full of knowledge checks. Chances are you're going to get something you haven't learned yet. And we won't be able to help you." Amity spoke up quickly.

"Yeah, well you can't really help me if you all are dead right? Look. I'll be fine. There's 12 spaces to the revive square. If I roll double sixes, I'm there."

"That's a pretty big IF Luz..." Willow said worriedly, glancing over at the hourglass.

Turns out they didn't have to be worried at all. As double sixes appeared on the dice, Azura shot forward safely through the forest and landed directly on the revive square.

"I'm reviving Amity." Luz announced decisively as the square began to glow a bright yellow and Hecate appeared beside Azura.

"Me? Why?"

"Because statistically you are the most obvious choice. Top Student and well versed in multiple different magic tracks." Gus nodded, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Good choice Luz!"

Willow merely looked away in shame and Amity felt guilt twist at her heart.

"Well that's not exactly true, but I figure since all of us are always getting up to magic mischief that Amity should get to be a bigger part of this adventure. Plus, historically we have made a pretty good team." Luz beamed, somehow melting the tension of the entire room with her words.

She practically melted Amity face too as heat rushed to the witch’s cheeks at the compliment.

They resumed the game, getting further and further through the forest. As the sand ran down in the hour glass, Hecate and Azura inched closer towards the sigil and the evil within the board.

"1234...5...6... and 7. Nice! Just enough!!" Luz counted excitedly as the board moved her token into the final square before the Witch's Knot. She glanced worriedly at Amity who was still several spaces away and then at the hour glass with just a sliver of sand left.

They were running out of time.

Luckily the board seemed to recognize Luz's finish as a team victory and Hecate was pulled straight to the end, standing alongside her friend/rival Azura.

Two white cards appeared in front of Luz and Amity.

"Ok. So... now we just read whatever's on this card and the evil gets re-sealed?" Luz asked uncertainly, fidgeting with her card.

Amity simply stared at the white card still laying in front of her, dread building in her chest. If there was ever a time for the trap to spring... it would be now. Haunted objects like this often came with a curse, especially here in the Boiling Isles. The ancient symbol currently pulsating red in the center of the board reminded Amity that there was a chance that whatever 'evil' this board contained may be far too old and powerful to simply be sealed away by two witches in training...

"Yep. And hurry! There's not much time left!" Gus's panicked voice jolted Amity out of her thoughts. Taking a deep breath, Amity snatched the card up and flipped it over, almost completely in sync with Luz.

"To defeat the evil within in this board, I hereby announce that-" The two read off in unison.

"... King is the greatest of all time."

"... Luz is a buttface."

The entire room fell silent as the two finished the 'spell' causing the Witch's Knot in the middle to flash a bright, blinding blue before the entire board went dim.

From the doorway the companions could all hear a malicious cackling.

Amity turned around slowly, only to see the resident demon of the Owl House rolling around on his back, laughing.

"YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN YOUR FACES! Oooooh. Oh nooooo! The evil of the board is going to get usssss. Wheeeeheheehehe."

"King!!" Luz reprimanded angrily, but the smile on her face gave away her true feelings. "You know, if you wanted us to play a board game you made, you could've just asked!"

The little demon pushed himself off the floor and wiped his eyes. He walked to the center of the board and kicked over the hourglass, seconds away from running out of sand.

"Psssh. Like I'd want to be involved in your silly little 'Sleep Party' thing anyways. Not that I got an invite or anything..." King grumbled.

Amity felt bad for the little guy, even if the game had them all stressed over nothing, he just wanted to feel included. Reaching forward hesitantly, knowing she didn't have the best relationship with the demon, Amity gently scooped him into her arms and coddled him.

And to both of their surprise, The King of Demons let her.

"Besides, it's not my game anyways. I just wrote those last two cards." King continued, crossing his arms defiantly from his position in Amity's arms.

Luz frowned. "But if you didn't make it then... who did?"

"I don't know. Eda just had it laying around. I found it a couple of days ago and planned this spectacular and amazing prank to pull on you guys for not inviting me. And it workkkeedd! Hah!"

Amity tensed. Nobody knew who made it? A board this enchanted had to have been made by someone.

"No, that's not right. There has to be some sort of clue, right?" Luz frowned, looking around at her friends.

"I don't know, I didn't look." The demon king shrugged before stretching out and curling tightly into Amity's chest.

"Try flipping it over? Maybe there's a name or something. That's what my dad's always do to our stuff in case it gets lost." Willow suggested helpfully.

Everyone nodded as Luz tentatively reached over and flipped the board over. On the back, faintly scratched into the cheap cardboard, were two initials and a small inscription. They had found their answer.

L + E - Vanquishing evil together. Forever.

The End

[lambourngb]

How bout some Michael POV for your masterpiece?!!!

This takes place during chapter 2, Michael has just exited the mindspace and is waiting for the agents to question him. 

“I take my last chance, to burn a bridge or two”

Michael had passed the point of exhaustion both two days and ten years ago. 

The thin, plastic covered cushion in the holding cell at Chaves County Sheriff's Office had the same feel of familiar comfort as his camp bed mattress in the Airstream, both places adequately met his needs after a bender or a brawl. He was never one to shy away from dropping into oblivion, met in the bottom of the bottle or at the end of a long night of working on his ship, until today. Closing his eyes meant slipping into the almost hypnotic state of the mindspace, and then he would hear her voice again.

His mother. Golden and whole for a moment. She was the energy between his cells, the original instructor of his atoms, funneling life into him; to grow and be strong.

“Oh my beloved son, oh you’re here, you’re here already grown and bound, I’m here, but no time, not enough time, there’s so much you should know my beautiful boy, I love you, I love you so much, I will always love you, now go, run, run for me.”

His eyes snapped open as the burn of tears threatened again. Goddamn it, he didn’t have time for that. Taking a deep breath, he stared up at the unremarkable ceiling to force his mind to go quiet. It was an old building, but built soundly. Not a crack in the plaster, not a flaw to betray its age. It housed the broken, who knew where home was but stayed away in the arms of intoxication; the evil, who knew home as a place for violence or thievery, and the lost, who longed for a home but never found the way back. All those souls gathered under its roof, this solid roof that sheltered without wear or tear.

At one time Michael had been all of those; deep into the dark warmth of drunk, or full of crooked wagers from dice games, he had even been picked up on a cold night a time or two with nowhere to go. Marked by violence in a tool shed, the system shocked with such a hard shove on his orbit, that he was knocked forever from the path he once had as a teenager, left to wander in all of those grim directions. 

Once upon a time his English teacher assigned to the class, near the end of term with graduation nipping at their heels, some busy work in the form of a ‘where do you see yourself in ten years’ thought experiment. His hand had sketched out a good job, college degree, and a house, while his mind traveled the fantasies of holding the small hands of a child, of helping pat dirt down over a buried seed in his garden, of Alex, always Alex, playing his guitar on the back porch-

Fuck. His bare left hand, now whole and hale, mocked him.

Michael wrenched his mind back to the present, and dug out a crumpled handkerchief from his pocket to wrap over his left hand. He tied a knot, pulling it tight with his teeth. A bitter smile crept over his mouth, using his teeth again for the grip he lost in his hand was familiar at least.

Hopefully whatever trouble that Max was in, was teaching him a lesson in meddling where he wasn’t wanted. High on power Max thought to heal his hand, but took no care to think about the damn consequences of everything, of Noah, of the things Noah was up to in Roswell. He flexed his hand again, the tight constriction of the fabric felt comfortably close to how the scar tissue pulled and tugged over his ruined knuckles. Already there were too many questions to answer, he didn’t need one more on his hand. 

As angry as he was at Max, he couldn’t help but hope that the flash of pain/wrong/vacuum wasn’t so serious that he couldn’t be useful now. Ride into the Sheriff’s Office, explain away the questions to his boss about Noah and Racist Hank, so Michael could be released without need of Alex and Alex’s story.

Goddamn it Alex. Showing up at the Wild Pony, those hopeful dark eyes turning wounded and betrayed as he realized that just because he didn’t see Michael as suitable, someone else did. Like he had the right to protest Michael moving on from them. It wasn’t Michael saying that they couldn’t be together because of Michael’s record, and it certainly wasn’t Michael saying that their relationship wasn’t worthy of a pyrotechnic breakup. 

And yet. When the pyrotechnics were happening, Alex was there. Immovable. Saying everything that Michael had longed to hear for ten long years.

“I love you. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you and I would give anything to have this story be true, that you were mine all along.”

A tear slipped down his unshaven face as he blinked rapidly. Alex was so stupid, how could he miss the fact that Michael had been his? Across the years, through two different battlefields, and after Alex had finally come home, Michael had worn two concrete boots, Alex and Isobel. Each his own anchor to this planet, as he worked to complete his ship.

The door swung open, startling Michael off the bunk, as a tall, dark haired man was escorted into the room by Agent Ross, who shot Michael an annoyed look. “Just knock on the door when you’re ready.” 

The imposing cut of the military uniform and densely packed square of ribbons on his chest sent a shivered down Michael’s spine. It was only just over two days since Michael had been involved in the destruction of a secret military operation. 

“Michael Guerin?” 

“Depends on who is asking.”

“I’m Major Mark Torres, attached to the JAG office at Kirtland Air Force Base.” The officer tucked his cover under his arm and held his hand out toward Michael. 

None of what this Mark Torres said made any sense to him. Kirtland was three hours away, Holloman was the closest base to the Caulfield facility. Michael lifted his eyebrows mockingly, but made no move to step closer to the open cell door, “That’s nice and all, but I’ve got nothing to say to anyone until my lawyer shows up.”

An amused smirk flitted over his mouth, “I am your lawyer, Alex sent me.” Instead of waiting for a response, Mark entered the cell and took a seat on the bunk, turning to Michael with a patient expectation. He placed the brim of his cover next to Michael’s black cowboy hat and then pulled his slim briefcase into his lap.  “I admit, this isn’t how I expected to meet you, the infamous Michael.”

“Alex got me an Air Force lawyer?” The rest of that implication, that Alex had spoken of them to anyone in the past, let alone someone in the service was too much to even think about.

“I’m a lawyer who’s in the Air Force, and I’m doing this in the civilian court system pro-bono,” Mark replied easily, and popped the fasteners of his briefcase open to pull out a yellow legal pad and a pen. “Now that we’ve covered why I’m here, let’s talk about why you’re here. Tell me everything you know about Noah Bracken, what your connection to him, why the police might think you’re involved with his disappearance, and why they found a body when they came to question you.”

Michael stared at Major Mark Torres for a long moment, weighing his extremely limited options. The distant place inside him, where his faint connection to Max lived, was still and empty. He rubbed his wrapped fist against his face before sighing as he took a seat next to him. Alex said to trust him that he would get Michael out of this, and whatever mess that lay between them after Caulfield and now Maria, Michael believed wholeheartedly that Alex didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep.

As a rule Alex Manes didn’t make promises at all, to anyone, least of all to Michael.

“I know Noah Bracken, I mean everyone does in this town and I have a record, petty shit obviously, but that’s enough I guess for them to suspect me. But I have an alibi, I was with my boyfriend all night- hell, I’m with him every night. We’re kinda makin’ up for lost time since he was in Iraq, until well-”

“You’re referring to Captain Alexander Manes, correct?” Mark asked, scratching notes down on his pad without looking up.

“No one calls him ‘Alexander’, but yeah. Alex.” Michael licked his lips almost nervously, before he took a deep breath. This was the easy part of the alibi. “Alex is everything to me. I fell in love with him when we were seventeen, and I never stopped fallin’.”

“He did mention you were a romantic.” Mark nodded in approval of Michael’s words and capped his pen, “let’s start with the last time people saw Bracken in public at that-, good God, this town has a museum dedicated to aliens? What a thing to celebrate. Anyway, Alex tells me you’re a mechanic, that you can fix anything you put your hands on, were you at the gala for business purposes?”

Michael stuttered a little, feeling his face heat in embarrassment. He wasn’t used to anyone singing his praises, let alone a complete stranger. What did Alex say to this guy? “Um I helped do the lighting and sound for the organizer, Isobel. Um, Isobel Evans-Bracken. I left Alex at home, err, my Airstream ‘cause he doesn’t really enjoy the dog-and-pony show even though there was free booze. I gave a friend a ride home, Maria Deluca, and then spent the rest of the evening with Alex. In bed.”

His pen never stopped moving, “and last night, when this Hank Gibbons ended up dead, you were with Alex again? At your Airstream again?”

“Yeah, um, Alex lives pretty far out of town, and I had work in town. Um, during the week he spends a couple nights at mine, on weekends we’re at his place. Compromise.” 

Spinning this fairy tale of shared residences to Torres, of disappearing to Alex’s cabin on the weekends and splitting the time apart during the week renewed an ache inside Michael. The slow turn of a bolt, burrowing into his heart as the threads of the light caught on hope and corkscrewed deeper into place. 

“No one can corroborate that, correct? Other than Alex?” 

“We’ve been keeping our relationship quiet. For personal reasons.”

This time Mark’s pen came to a halt, and he looked over to Michael with a sad understanding smile, “I’ve met Alex’s dad. He’s a first class prick. I’ve never met anyone more different from Alex in my life.”

“That’s for sure. Niger can have him. In fact, I hope he gets Ebola over there.” His eyes glanced up to the video camera on the corner before dropping to Torres again. Michael paused, hedging the risk of this disclosure, before continuing, “I’m not a violent man, but if I were, I wouldn’t bother with the town lawyer or the local racist asshole, it would be to protect Alex from that guy.”

Mark followed his gaze to the camera and back, before nodding. “I think I know all I need to know about you, Michael. Let’s go clear this up with the locals and get you released.”

*** 

“You were with Captain Manes all night? You didn’t leave at all?” Agent Ross asked quietly, his thin face placid, while his partner, Agent Rollins barely held back the curl of disgust from his face. 

“Have you seen Alex? Like dude, I know I’m punching way above my class with him, you would have to be crazy to leave a bed that had him in it.” Michael smirked, fiddling with his hat on the table. Next to him, Major Torres stayed quiet taking notes.

“And he can confirm that?”

“Yes. I know he didn’t let you have a good look, but my Airstream isn’t big enough for him to miss me leaving. Trust me. We were together all night.”

“Let’s go back to the fight you had with Mr. Bracken-”

“Man, that’s bullshit, okay?!” Michael cut him off, “I did not have a fight with Noah, and whoever says differently is lying.”

Mark set down his pen to touch Michael’s hand lightly, before looking at the two agents evenly, “one eyewitness, on a dark night, does not overturn the alibi provided by Captain Manes. Let’s move on, shall we?”

“This relationship you’re in with Captain Manes, he’s alluded to the fact that it was kept secret. I find that rather convenient, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to help out a friend. Maybe cover up the fact you were having an affair with the wife of our missing lawyer?” Rollins smirked, exchanging glances with his partner. 

It took a moment before Michael could catch the inference, and then only Mark’s tight grip on his wrist kept him in his seat. “Wait?! You think I’m lying about Alex to cover up for an affair with Isobel? What the fuck, man? Number one, that’s gross on a number of levels, number two, Alex is the most stubborn man alive, but he’s also the most honorable. He wouldn’t do that for anyone, especially not about adultery. He could get court martialed for that shit.”

Ross picked up his turn to provoke, offering another even almost-bored question to Michael, “I see, you deny that an affair was going on with Ms. Bracken. So you’re not attracted to women then?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Torres protested. 

“Mr. Guerin opened the door earlier, basing his alibi on how attractive a bed partner Captain Manes was.”

Michael took a deep breath again, pushing down the nettled feelings of exposure. Of all things he thought he would be discussing at the sheriff’s office, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “Not that it’s relevant, but I’m bisexual, yes. I’m also monogamous. It’s not that difficult to understand. I love Alex, I wouldn’t cheat on him with anyone.”

“So on the night of the Gala, that was thrown by your platonic good friend Mrs. Bracken, you were there, without Captain Manes, but in the company of a Ms. Maria Deluca. Another platonic friend, I assume. Do you remember anyone bothering Mr. Bracken? Someone who might have wanted to harm him?”

***

Hours later, after they had combed through every minute of Michael’s time at the gala and the night before when Hank Gibbons was at the Wild Pony, the agents finally concluded their questions and granted his release from temporary custody. There was still an air of disbelief from both agents regarding his alibi being with Alex.

From the outside, Michael couldn’t blame them. Even setting aside his spotty employment record, rap sheet, and history of being in care of the state, anyone with eyes could see that Alex Manes was a man who could have his pick of partners. Why would he pick the outcast of Roswell? It didn’t make sense to Michael that was for sure, and that had been true almost from the beginning.  

“This was fun, Agent Rollins. Let me know if you want me to go over my movements from the other night again, and Alex’s even better movements. I can really open up on that, if it helps,” Michael offered, stomping the blood back into his boots as he left the interview room eagerly.

There was some satisfaction in seeing out of the corner of his eye, Agent Rollins looking as if he had bit into a lemon. 

Next to him, Torres grabbed Michael’s forearm with a warning squeeze and steered him down the hall where Alex was waiting with a worried expression. “What my client means is, you have my number if you wish to schedule a follow-up interview. We’re happy to cooperate in any investigation, especially if it leads to Mr Bracken returning safely home.”

Alex’s eyes flickered from Torres’s hand on his shoulder to the agents and back to Michael, but there was a hint of smug satisfaction in those dark eyes. Somehow Michael knew that Alex was holding back amusement over his graphic words to the bigoted agent. Well, there was no sense in not completing the performance.

He moved into Alex’s space comfortably, and brought his hands to Alex’s neck to draw him into a kiss. His last memory of kissing Alex, had been handled and revisited to the point of being thread-bare before being set aside as an old fantasy out of reach. Feeling Alex’s arms come up and hold him close, sent shocks down his fingertips as he cupped Alex’s chin to hide the chasteness of the kiss from view. 

Alex wasn’t playing fair in return. 

Those big, firm hands of his slid up Michael’s back, and threaded into the sweat-thick curls of his hair. Michael felt Alex’s lips part against his, that clever hot mouth opening to Michael, and nothing tempted Michael more in that moment, than following Alex’s lead. 

That long bolt of the lie, turned deeper inside him, shredding the few safeguards he had in place. Alex loved him, Alex wanted to protect him, Alex had never stayed before- so many truths, so many reasons he wasn’t able to trust this especially now. Michael kept his mouth closed, and after a second, he felt Alex back away. They were good at that at least, retreating.

Alex’s cheeks were warm, probably from the public nature of the kiss, even as his face showed only the firm resolve of their shared story. His eyes drifted down, playing his role of a shy lover with Michael expertly. “You uh, ready to go home then?”

“Long past ready, darlin’.” Michael exhaled tiredly, already wondering how he was going to make it through this without losing more of his heart than he had to spare in the process. He reached for the familiar weight of his hat in his hand, and tipped it to the still watching agents. 

[hlootooart]

Warning: Long as Heck Ramble on Toons and Toon Logic!

You know, I’ve been thinking about early toon logic lately. I find that people tend to focus on things like pulling stuff out of nowhere, elaborate pranks involving pies and hammers, slapstick. And that’s certainly part of the package! What’s a toon without a good a good pie to the face?

But I feel like a lot of people seem to miss a major piece of 1920s/30s toons in that they

DID NOT

GIVE

A SINGLE

F***

NOT

A

SINGLE

ONE

LOOK AT THIS S***!!!

Originally posted by gypsyastronaut

I just feel like this tidbit is ignored, which is a shame. Early toons are such a chaotic force to be reckoned with, it’s amazing. In this kind of toon world, the sky’s the freaking limit! You want to take the legs off of something and swap it for something else? Go ahead. Want to tie water into a knot? Sure!

Punch a clock so hard it turns into watches? Heck yeah, you might need those!

Give the sun a black eye from punching a Test-Your-Strength game?

Why the frick not?! OG Toon Logic here is ridiculously OP and random.

Notice how those last examples were from Popeye. I picked him not only because I love him (shout out to the true first superman), but because he’s a shining example of what I’m talking about. See, people have a tendency to square Popeye and other toons against super powerful beings like Superman and Goku. But the problem with that is, as I’ve stated, THESE TOONS DON’T GIVE A F***.

He willed himself from non-existence by somehow materializing a can of spinach out of nowhere.

He fought some enemies so hard, he broke the animation reel he was in while it was running!

Heck—he punched out his own artist after he drew him!

Found it here.

Someone from another dimension flung a can of spinach his way when asked for it! (He just so happened to be carrying that?)

He even survived his universe being erased!

Found Here.

Popeye is the king of not giving a single iota of a s*** and warping reality as he sees fit. Which is where the problems start. Because in these matches people insist on putting him in, they try to formulate rules and limits on him which defeats the entire point of an Early Toon. They cannot be withheld by rules and the like because it goes against their very nature, CHAOS. That’s why some forums outright ban toons, or any users of toon/hammerspace. Because of how OP they are. Which brings me to my next point.

Because OG toon logic was pure unbridled chaos, it’s VERY dangerous. It thrived on being unexpected and unpredictable...and unreliable. Imagine living in a world made of it. One day it’s in a desert where the sun might start physically hitting you, then an ocean where waves might try to eat you and lightning bolts cut your boat in two.

Maybe then an iceland where a snowman becomes sentient and tries to kill you and your friends.

Every move you make, every step you take is a constant gambling match, where the stakes fluctuate anywhere from 1 and 1 million in a nanosecond, and the dice are spherical. You could be walking down the street and suddenly you fall down a manhole and discover a bizarre cult made up of one person.

Or you’re trying to hide from a police officer in a cemetery, but then get locked in, taunted by Living Tombstones, followed by the forces of a drugged out hell. Heck, Hell just might come to you because you left the fireplace on too high. Random objects coming alive and taunting you, or hindering you. Trees growing faces and suddenly feeling you up. People being created from random things and then vanishing. It’s all like a fever dream.

Don’t put your faith in tropes either, as it breaks whatever rules it has constantly. And whatever ones you set up will be undone almost immediately. It’s not so much that rules are actively resisted against, more like they just...just can’t stick. Not because of any sentient being, or figure as that would be a form of order, which would clash with it all. Like, underneath the cheery smiles, and upbeat gags lies a heart of indifference. Meh, even “indifference” sounds too “person-guided”. Really, it’s more like a force of nature that just is. Trying to explain it, let alone control it, would be like setting fence posts in a rushing river of mud. You’d be lucky if they stay up for a few seconds before succumbing and being lost among the sludge. It will simply roll along as it does, whether you want it to or not. So uncontrollable is this toon logic, that using it would just as much harm you as help you. Especially if we apply the basic tenant of comedy— defying expectations. For example, you might want to pull out a hammer from behind you, because hey it worked before and you need it. So, you reach around for one, but then, whoops, that was expected so something else takes it’s place...maybe even try to eat you regardless if it’s “alive” or not. Or maybe you go to shoot off a gun, but then it violently explodes back in your face; perhaps laughing at you in the process. The best one could hope to do is call upon it as few times and infrequently as possible; and pray to whatever you believe in that you happen to call upon it at the right time, and that it won’t backfire on you horribly.

In conclusion, OG Toon Logic is an incredibly dangerous and uncontrollable power. If this toons were to ever exist in the real world, and not have it affect their abilities (or worse, the other way around) they’d be nothing short of gods and a danger to everyone– including themselves.

It’s just so out there and random and confusing and...

And that’s the point.

Toon logic is what it is, because it rejects and ignores any laws and regulations to adhere to. Which is why so many people, including myself, enjoy them so much. Now don’t get me wrong, I love a good epic storyline, and analyzing theories as much as the next person, but sometimes it’s fun to just let loose y’know? To not think about stuff too hard and just roll with the flow. I especially loved the Fleischer Bros early work as well as Ub Iwerks’, and truly applaud the team behind Cuphead for really nailing that kooky atmosphere down.

Toons are fun and entertaining. They always are and (hopefully) always will be. I don’t think I’ll ever be sick of them and will enjoy their company for a long time.

Just so long as they stay in their reality. After all....

...some things were never meant to be seen in 3D.

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

TL;DR - TOONS ARE GODS TO BE RECKONED WITH

This isn’t meant to put down anyone’s headcanons or AUs or anything. I just wanted to throw this out there. I have more ramblings on this subject, but this it for now.

[tabletoptrinketsbyjj]

Trinkets, 31: Interesting baubles, semi magical objects and items touched by mystery.

An ocarina carved from a large acorn, with a wyrm carved in relief.

A heavy lead disk that depicts writhing tentacles and widespread destruction. The rim of the disk has the word “NEVINYRRAL” on it.

A white tabard bearing a golden sunburst impressed upon a crimson shepherd’s crook embroidered over where the bearer's heart should be.

A small turtle shell intricately scrimshawed with aquan script. If translated, it’s a bawdy merfolk limerick.

A tall banner pole emblazoned with the holy symbol of the Goddess of Spiders. Adorned in skulls and the webbed and dried husks of many offerings, it oozes with an evil aura. From out of the great webbed void, a multiple-eyed arachnid gaze, looks down upon the battlefield, with slaughter reflected in its blackness. When the wind moves the tattered banner, it flutters soundlessly, like so much webbing. Yet, ever so faintly, the furtive noise of scuttling can be heard, or perhaps the clicking and chittering of steel-hard mandibles.

A square digging shovel with the grip and handle stained red with blood. Touching the grip with bare hands allows the bearer to hear the anguished cries of the grave diggers who have died on the job with the shovel in their hands. 

A porcelain mask featuring a beautiful womanly face with closed eyes. The porcelain has a slight golden hue and gleam to it.

A single, thumb sized, intricately carved gemstone, that upon professional inspection, is completely fake.

A limestone ashtray inlaid in obsidian forming folk symbols said to protect against fey influence. It is of fine workmanship.

A small brooch made of a translucent stone carved into a lily with too many petals. It seems to resonate with power when its bearer casts a spell. 

—Keep reading for 90 more trinkets.

—Note: The previous 10 items are repeated for easier rolling on a d100.

An ocarina carved from a large acorn, with a wyrm carved in relief.

A heavy lead disk that depicts writhing tentacles and widespread destruction. The rim of the disk has the word “NEVINYRRAL” on it.

A white tabard bearing a golden sunburst impressed upon a crimson shepherd’s crook embroidered over where the bearer's heart should be.

A small turtle shell intricately scrimshawed with aquan script. If translated, it’s a bawdy merfolk limerick.

A tall banner pole emblazoned with the holy symbol of the Goddess of Spiders. Adorned in skulls and the webbed and dried husks of many offerings, it oozes with an evil aura. From out of the great webbed void, a multiple-eyed arachnid gaze, looks down upon the battlefield, with slaughter reflected in its blackness. When the wind moves the tattered banner, it flutters soundlessly, like so much webbing. Yet, ever so faintly, the furtive noise of scuttling can be heard, or perhaps the clicking and chittering of steel-hard mandibles.

A square digging shovel with the grip and handle stained red with blood. Touching the grip with bare hands allows the bearer to hear the anguished cries of the grave diggers who have died on the job with the shovel in their hands.

A porcelain mask featuring a beautiful womanly face with closed eyes. The porcelain has a slight golden hue and gleam to it.

A single, thumb sized, intricately carved gemstone, that upon professional inspection, is completely fake.

A limestone ashtray inlaid in obsidian forming folk symbols said to protect against fey influence. It is of fine workmanship.

A small brooch made of a translucent stone carved into a lily with too many petals. It seems to resonate with power when its bearer casts a spell.

A dark, red-veined rock about the size of a clenched fist that feels slightly warm to the touch.

A makeup palette containing six different shades of blush.

A drinking mug made from a seashell, grown exactly into its current shape.

A collapsible fan made of transparent insect wings.

A belt pouch consisting of a length of bamboo worn horizontally on the belt. The segmented cane has three fastened openings, and each compartment is lined with padded wool to keep the contents from rattling.

A dashing wide-brimmed hat bearing a dazzling feather.

A drawing that looks remarkably like an older version of the viewer... with a mortal wound.

A small carnelian carving of a hawk that gives off a faint glow whenever a gnome is within one hundred feet.

A fiddle made out of pure white wood and engraved with elven runes that can only play melodies in the major key.

A steel bracelet depicting an armored knight protecting a sleeping child from a shadowy monster.

A brass bell that always stays highly polished and resembles the sound of strange laughter when rung. It is rumored to open doors to the Feywild.

A sphere made of steel, which has numerous rods sticking out of it. Twisting the rods of the blacksmith’s puzzle in a particular order allows them to be removed, revealing a gold coin inside.

A honeycomb intricately carved from marble and polished to a fine finish.

A clockwork item consisting of a hooded, axe wielding executioner with red eyes, and a crying man at the chopping block. When a copper coin is dropped into the coin slot in the front, the headsman swings his axe downward, and the head of the crying man drops off. The head is attached with a string, and when the axe raises again, the head is reeled back to its shoulder.

A sturdy leather cord tied into an intricate knot that writhes in the hands of the bearer.

A series of five vials in a wooden box, each filled with a bright green liquid. Four of them contain a sweet tasting liquid, and one of them contains a horrid and acrid liquid that deals acid damage equivalent to a shortsword when consumed in any quantity. They can only be distinguished by taste. The box reads: “Game of Chance”.

A standard deck of lacquered playing cards that shuffles itself when tapped twice.

A large tin canister whose lid is stamped with the image of a bountiful orchard whose trees are overflowing with fruit, the ripest of which has fallen and filled a cornucopia. The container is brimming with dozens of pieces of well preserved dried limes.

A small puzzle box that reforms itself after being solved, requiring a new solution in order to unlock it.

A worn looking banjo with the peg head made out of a carved piece of driftwood.

A wooden tribal mask with sharp teeth, glowing yellow eyes and a beard of leaves.

A cracked hand mirror, which always shows a shadowy figure to be standing behind the one looking in it. Sometimes, the figure moves.

A wooden chalice etched with a horrifying visage and topped with a bone covering.

A dark stone tablet no larger than a book with a green gem in the center. It has a strap one can sling over the shoulder to carry it.

A tattered flag with the symbol of a bloody Random Melee Weapon stitched on it.

A stone idol that appears to be a aquatic goblin with a dorsal fin,webbed fingers and a double row of shark teeth.

A copper wand etched with arcane sigils. The serpent's head at its tip clutches a crystal in its jaws. 

A silver bracelet with finely-wrought filigree in the shape of vines.

A one gallon cask of Skjolhammar Strong Ale. Technically a type of honey mead, Strong Ale is cheap and strong, though it lays no claim to being the best quality. It has a deep goldenrod color, and a weak, pale head of foam. It smells strongly of alcohol. The flavor is akin to a combination of honey, pickles, and fermented apples, but it doesn’t last long before being overpowered by an eye-watering alcohol burn that lasts for several seconds before dissipating. 

A card-sized square of welded brass cylinders, each with intricately detailed carvings depicting acts of brutal torture, ending with glass lenses on each end like a spyglass. When looking through the object, the viewer sees their most loved friend or family member (Who is not present) being viciously tortured by all means of non-lethal methods. If the viewer has no true friends or family, they see an older version of themselves instead. The square is indestructible and warm to the touch and anything viewed through it is entirely fictional. 

A small shield shaped insignia marking the bearer as a defender of others. This insignia is misshapen as if crushed by a passing wagon and speckled with blood.

A wooden, roughly carved hunting horn that still has patches of bark remaining on its surface. The deep, haunting sound it makes is dark, foreboding, and above all else, wild, with its notes echoing far longer than they should.

A green bottle enchanted to deliver a heartfelt message. When opened the bottle emits the voice of a crying man speaking to his wife, saying how sorry he is and how nobody should go through the Duskfall Forest. The message will play over and over again until the bottle is closed. 

An oak wood pipe with writing carved on its side in infernal. It reads “Let he who smokes from the pipe be damned”.

A wizard's wand made of a three-foot long sprig of ash with a fine, smooth handle that widens at the end.

A set of six sided dice with lewd pictures on each of the faces.

A beautiful, hand-crafted, driftwood figurine of a water nymph.

A miniature torture device play set. Comes with stretchy arm clown with menacing spiked tooth grin. When the doll is placed on the rack, little wooden gears turn, stretching out the doll and causing it to laugh maniacally.

A gold coin that when flipped remains suspended in the air, spinning indefinitely until it is grabbed again. 

A wooden spinning top that looks crudely carved. Yet when it’s spun, it catches the carving in such a manner as to make the sound of children laughing or crying in the distance, depending on which direction the top is spun

A petrified goblin heart in a silver birdcage.

A broken compass that only ever points to the nearest other broken compass. 

A ceramic jar of pond water containing half of dozen live leaches. The label on the side of the container reads “Dream-Suckers”.

A silver flask half filled with fine scotch, bearing a leering face engraved on the front.

A sealed one gallon cask of finely aged wine that gives the imbiber prophetic, drunken visions.

A box made of petrified, grey wood. Square, palm sized, and unusually heavy, it has a lid and iron hinges, but no latch. A face, moon-like and squinting mirthfully, is carved on the immovable lid.

A brand, or perhaps a rosette iron. Small, and quite delicate in the handle. Scorches a pressed surface with a two-inch-tall capital M if heated cherry-hot.

A chatelaine lined like a human palm. Five short iron chains hang from it, no more than two inches long. Each ends in a lead fingertip pendant. When pinned to a garment or belt, the piece hangs like a strange, disembodied hand.

A long steel tuning fork. When struck, it hums at a lowing, worrisome frequency that stirs the gut and causes a listening ear to rush alarmingly.

A long-necked vessel, small, of porous, white porcelain. Glazed with black, metallic enamel, within. There is a small face stamped on its bulbous end; a curl-lipped face nestled in a pentagram. The vessel becomes dewy, if left in the open air, and over the course of a single night wells up a collected, cloying droplet in its bulb. This fluid is sweet but turns the stomach. It kills insects and small animals that drink of it.

A bleached headdress made from the bones of humanoid hands which have been cleverly fashioned together.

An hourglass, slightly melted, set in a drooping, ancient housing of twisted glass. Within the bloated glass bulbs, there are two, separate liquids: A clear, slightly yellow oil that fills the space like air, and a heavy, cherry-red liquid separate from it. This cherry liquid acts as sand, dripping in slow globules from the top bulb to the bottom. Despite its age, it keeps a perfect hour.

A nickel silver pomander. Eight hinged segments of scrolled openwork separate and swing out from a bottom ring of hinges. The central stem, topped by a ring and the catch disc for all eight segments, bristles with sharp, metal thorns. They are rusted with ancient, brown stain. Atop one, a tiny bone is embedded.

A wolf statuette carved from reddish limestone that fits comfortably in one hand.

A pair of pointed thimbles conjoined by a flexible loop of steel. The clawlike tips join nicely, like a tweezer. They may be worn on thumb and forefinger to pluck up small objects with some precision.

A ragged, thin tin box containing two long, steel nails. Each has a shaft convoluted with organic whorls and notches, and a head showing a carved rose or curling tongue. On the box's lid is pasted a hand-drawn, musty sketch showing where the nails should be driven into a human's skull.

A sharp pen, long, and crafted in smooth onyx. It will bear no ink on its piercing nib; only human blood. The silver nib will neither rust nor tarnish.

A slumber, small, shaped like a pint-sized ampoule of green glass. A faint, flickering heartbeat can be heard within, if listened to in absolute silence. The glass emits faint heat, like a living thing.

A monk's simple green and white robe of an unknown cloth, it smells vaguely of herbs.

A small, cartouche-shaped plaquette made from bronze, meant to hang around the neck by a chain, like a modern dress gorget. The chain is gone, replaced by simple cord. A sculpted, leonine face looks out from the front, snarling.

A small whistle shaped from ivory, perhaps bone. Yellowed and chipped, thin as a pencil, and perhaps the length of one's hand. It has eight holes for fingering, but they are of no use, for the whistle produces no sound when played. It vibrates subtly, producing naught but raised hairs and a sensation of anxious, horrid dread in all who are near.

A spheroid box, small, and ribbed like a squat pumpkin. Splits neatly in two. The halves, which join nearly flush via a thin, inset lip, are conjoined by a short silver chain. Every link in the chain, oblong and blackened, is glassed and opens like a locket. Only one of these frame-links contains a picture: A minute, painted image of a man with a pig's head.

A steel tooth cap, keenly sharp, meant for the upper jaw. Converts the canines and lateral incisors into long, pointed fangs. There are sockets in the fangs fronts, as if they once held gemstones. A pair of blackened, ancient teeth are still stuck within the cap's inner groove.

A tiny green ingot, pale emerald all the way through, as verdigris, in a torn-open lead envelope. On contact with skin, it turns the flesh a spongy, pale green, causes chills, and elicits an itching from the scalp. A geometric, faceted signet has been pressed into one corner of the ingot, presumably while it was cast.

A warm, black iron marble; like a very large bearing, but rougher. The rough, iron exterior has worn away at a thin spot, showing a smooth, shiny yolk of hard, tungsten-grey metal within. Balmy warmth emanates from the marble, but slowly burns nearby skin an irritated red, if kept nearby for too long. The redness takes time to fade, and flakes and weeps before it does.

The skeleton of an unknown animal encased in a mound of yellowing resin. It is much like a garden frog in both size and shape, albeit a garden frog with long claws and a protracted, toothy snout.

The steel tip of a horn capped in plain steel and pointed like the punch-shape of a bodkin arrow. Dry, keratinous splinters of horn, fragile with age, are still stuck on the inside.

A white marble bowl with the image of an ermine, and a rearing horse as pictures in a book within a shield shape and set with an amethyst. It is of strangely organic workmanship.

A cherry letter opener with the image of runes in an unknown language, and a thistle within an octagon.

An elven poncho covered in long strands that resemble weeping willow, wisteria and ivy vines.

A short scroll made out of singed papyrus, covered in strange, flowing script at crazy, disjointed angles and stains of ominous origin.

A brown leather flatcap with a two holes pierced through, possibly from the horns of the previous owner.

A long, diaphanous, red veil that shimmers with crushed amber shards that dance like sultry flames whenever its bearer breathes or moves.

A bundle of good quality beaver pelts tied together with twine and wrapped in a protective oilskin case.

A crystal shoe. A heeled slipper, one made for the foot of a small woman. Bluish and lightly faceted. Quite hard, and able to be worn and walked upon, albeit uncomfortably.

A cylindrical spinning top, quite wide, and made of light, white metal, weighted towards the needle. A row of little skeletons is painted around the cylinder. If spun and looked at dead-on, the skeletons become one and animate. It dances, and not pleasingly, made lively by the kinesis of the whirring top.

An artificial fibula made of rusted, wrought iron delicately carved with scrollwork and decorative rivets; all nearly obscured in red oxidization. 

A perfect specimen of a pine cone, inexplicably encased in a rectangular block of clear glass.

A chess piece, a king, crafted from blackest jet. He sits in a tall throne worked with a scrollwork relief, bearing an expression of deepest weariness. He rests, chin in palm, with a short knife tucked in the opposite hand. A finely worked piece.

A large tin canister whose lid is stamped with the image of a well-stocked confectionery shop bustling with children. The container is filled with dozens of orange flavored hard candies.

A large blue coin with a powdery finish, perhaps tarnished. A hole is punched in one side, lending it the appearance of a tag. One side bears rows of blocky characters; a lost tongue. The other shows a many-towered skyline, all spires and soaring onion domes.

A crude map of the local area inscribed on a tattered canvas scroll, that bears an “X” marking an area near where the map was found. There is a list of instructions in the bottom corner of the map: Find the broken bridge, then go south 2-3 miles, until you find the bronze statue. From there, go east 1-2 miles until you find the dried up creek bed, then go north-east for 3-4 miles and you'll find the relics hidden at the top of an old watchtower. ---Note: It is up to the DM whether or not if the instructions can be followed (The “landmarks” might be a code, riddle or simply not exist for example) and if there is anything at the end. The map could easily be a prank, trap, confidence scheme, ambush or the area could already have been stripped of any value by other adventurers.

An artificial moth crafted of jade slivers and twists of silver wire and trapped in a squat, glass bottle. The strange construct will fly briefly and feebly if warmed by a living palm.

A single steel earring that when worn, allows the bearer to speak the language of the humans, but only to say: "I don't actually speak Human. I only know that sentence, and this one explaining it.” The bearer is not granted the ability to understand the language and doesn’t comprehend what they just said unless they are already fluent.

A human mandible with strange, silvery crystals jutting in a painful major from the ramus and processes, where it might connect to the skull. The teeth, of which the incisors are sharp, are faintly coated in platinum leaf.

A white leather wallet decorated with a twirling red stripe, containing a full set of certified identification papers denoting that the bearer is an established member of the barbers, surgeons and dentists guild. The section containing the member's physical description (Height, weight, sex, race, eye, skin and hair colour) is completely blank and could be filled in by anyone with half decent handwriting.

A folding knife with a curved tang, like a straight razor, but with a wickedly hooked blade. When closed, it forms a semicircle. The blade is quite pitted but has been cleaned of its rust at some point. It is keenly sharp.

A small tin case containing a dozen facial and ear piercings of varying sizes and shapes, all made from chameleon horn.

A pirate flag that although ragged around the edges, clearly shows a grinning skull with devil horns, and crossed bastard swords. Knowledgeable PC's recognize this flag belongs to Garrin Firebrand, the Reef Lord. A local pirate of some distinction, his ship always seems to vanish as soon as it hits open water, which has caused many to wonder if Firebrand and his crew have found a way to slip beneath the waves.

A set of brass merchant weigh scales that have subtle markings around the balancing arm. An extremely perceptive PC will notice that the markings are actually small levels that can be quickly manipulated with the lightest touch in order to cause the scales to tip more in one direction or the other making it seems like one scale weighs more than it rightly should. No doubt owned by a crooked merchant, the fraudulent mechanisms are quite well made and would fetch a fine prince if one could find a shady black marketeer or underhanded jeweler. 

[stufftoysblog]

How To Make Your Own Simple Dog Toys

Easy to make, the usage of everyday gadgets to create some fantastic home made canine toys

British climate being as delightful as it's far - there may be frequently days wherein you appearance out of the window at the torrential rain and shudder at the notion of going outside. You drop (what become) Rover's favourite toy in front of him and he seems up at you as though to mention, "now not this antique component again"?

Rather than constantly shopping new toys - attempt some homemade canine toys with the intention to preserve their minds occupied. Obviously these toys will rely on how adverse your dog is - if he is a prolific chewer make certain you have a stag antler or kong to chew on for dreary moist days!

There is many motives why dog Stuff Toys are vital, first and principal, they may be fun! But additionally, they will inspire your canine now not to chew and smash furniture/footwear/socks/childs preferred teddy undergo and so forth. (As the pictures beneath demonstrate)

Here are our pinnacle ten home made canine toys for puppies of all ages.

1. Stitching required. If you have an old pair of denims you have been going to toss - here is a great opportunity to make a sturdy canine toy. Cut 4 same squares from the cloth (denim is first-class) and lay them out. You need to stitch them together as a cube, leaving one side "open" to stuff with something crackly (cellophane), something noisy (mashed up antique water bottle) or use your creativeness! Once you stitched five aspects of the dice together, turn it internal out so the sewing is on the inside, stuff with the made from your choice after which stitch closed. It is suggested you sew over your preliminary stitches 4 or five instances for extra electricity. Commence play!

2. Paper towel/lavatory paper tubes with peanut butter smeared interior. In fact some thing with peanut butter smeared interior it! Try inserting the tubes right into a sock for brought complexity.

Three. Cottage cheese boxes or empty yogurt cups with approximately an inch of hen broth frozen at the bottom. This isn't perfect for robust chewers - this will be best for puppies or toy/lap dogs

4. Empty cardboard boxes with canine treats internal. Cut holes simply massive enough for the treats to fall out after they flip the container around or over. Tape it shut with duct tape.

Five. Put an empty plastic water bottle interior an antique sock - preferably a protracted ski type sock. When chewed, this makes a crunching sound that most dogs seem to discover pretty satisfying. You can upload greater price by way of inserting kibble type treats inside and the dog has to paintings to get them out.

6. A giant knot. Take an extended piece of material and tie a knot in it. Tie any other knot round that first knot. Repeat until you rub out of cloth. Ensure the knots are extraordinarily tight (you could also cover some bits of kibble inner but it's not going they might ever get it out) Once you are completed, cut off the extra fabric from both end and you've got a throwing and chewing ball! In summer time you can soak the knot in bullion or hen inventory and freeze which would be a cute cooling treat.

7. Compact some bubble wrap (with out permitting it to pop) and encase it in duct tape. This is a super toy for puppies who're strong chewers and would get via a bathroom roll or yogurt pot within seconds.

8. Old sock filled with kibble and knotted. This one does get a touch messy - you may need to throw the sock out because the kibble juice will stain the sock all the time however this one changed into extremely popular!

Nine. Take an old dish towel and cut it in half of width smart, then tie it in a knot. This makes a simply simple fabric toy with knots to amuse them. An alternative is to take the dish towel (or regular towel) and reduce it into strips - braiding instead of tying in knots. You can use dish towel, everyday towels or even denim (every other use for those antique denims!)

10. Get an old tennis ball and reduce it from east to west, approximately halfway spherical so while you squeeze it, the ball opens. Place treats that will fall out of the distance while squeezed by means of your canine. This manner he has to learn how to squeeze the ball in a sure manner to launch the treats. A extremely good intellectual stimulation toy.

[larryfanficwriter98]

Chapter Seven

*Fake It Until You Make It Real*

Sorry for the twenty days without an update. My good friend Depression is here visiting and she brought her besties Anxiety and Insomnia with her...so it's been a real party over here.

Harry was jumped wildly and spun around with his spatula in his hand ready to attack the person that decided sneaking up on him in the morning while he sang along to TLC ‘No Scrub’ was a good idea. However, when he was able to focus on who the person was, he saw Louis bent over laughing his ass off into his hand to keep from waking the kids that were still sound asleep. Harry glared at the younger man blushing in embarrassment as he turned back to his stove turning over his bacon.

“I could have hit you with my spatula Louis.” Harry complained.

“Oh yes…that would have caused real damage.” Louis teased, “The kids asleep?”

“Passed out still. I think we’re good for a few more minutes.” Harry said stepping away to grab a mug and hand it to Louis, “Electric kettle over there.” Louis took the mug and moved over to the kettle and opened the drawer that had every tea type imaginable. Louis was still shocked Harry had so much tea and was so organized about it. Though the organized part wasn’t as shocking now that he had seen Harry’s entire house, everything had its place and was organized, and it was a drastic difference compared to his own place where nothing was in its proper place because he didn’t remember where that proper place was anymore.

“So, our parents…how are we dealing with that?” Louis asked.

“I’m taking Halloween weekend off; I was thinking we all meet up here. My family and you family, the kids go trick or treating and us adults who want to cook stay here and make a large dinner. What do you think?”

“A large family dinner on Halloween? You’re either really confident or really stupid.”

“Both. What? Don’t think it’s a good idea? Come on this is a nice neighbor. Most of the houses give out the expensive stuff.” Louis laughed as he sipped his tea, “I think it’s a good idea. I always make graveyard pudding cups then let the kids pick out their top like gummy worms or tombstone chocolate models or candied ghosts. Needless to say, I am the favorite house on the block, and I have hot beverages for the parents if it’s cold.” Louis stared at him before he laughed.

“You’re that house huh? Geesh.”

“We’re that house.” Harry said grinning at him, “Can you get the fruit salad out of the fridge? And the smaller bowl beside it.”

“Of course. How long have you been up for?” Louis asked opening the fridge pulling out the large serving bowl of cut up mixed tangerines, kiwis, blueberries, strawberries, and grapes. He set the fruit bowl on the counter then grabbed the smaller bowl that was clear-yellowish color with diced something inside of it.

“About two hours. I’m an early riser most mornings.” Harry explained as he placed the pancakes on a large serving plate and the bacon and sausage on another serving plate then put them in the oven to stay warm. Harry came over to stand beside him and took the smaller bowl and poured the contents on the fruit before stirring, “Don’t get your underwear in a knot it’s a lemon and honey dressing that compliments the fruits with chopped mint. It adds flavor.” Harry said chuckling.

“It adds flavor.” Louis mocked, “You and your fancy cooking and fresh ingredients. You make me sick.” Harry laughed as Louis walked away and headed to the living room to check on the kids. He decided to gently wake them up and let them know breakfast was ready relieved when they woke up in a good mood with growling bellies.

“Go wash your hands, brush your teeth, and empty your bladders if you have to then come right back down.” Louis said gently watch as the groggily headed upstairs, Freddie with his overnight backpack that had his things in it. He headed back into the kitchen and grabbed the finished fruit salad bowl and set it in the middle of the square table.

“I should tell you to not do that and let the kids handle it, but considering Maddie is clumsy in the mornings I’ll let it slide.” Harry said coming up beside him with the two serving plates.

“They can set the table for lunch.” Louis said rolling his eyes playfully before heading back into the kitchen to grab the four plates, two glass and two kids. He set the table, so he and Harry were facing each other, and the kids were facing each other like they did with dinner last night.

“Milk or juice this morning for Freddie?”

“Probably juice the only time he likes to drink milk with his breakfast is when he has cereal.” Harry came up beside him with a pitcher of juice that he poured into the kids’ cups just high enough that it wouldn’t spill over the edge during the grabbing action by children. A few minuets later the kids came down more awake than when they had headed upstairs and sat down at the table with their now filled plates of cut up pancakes, fruit, a bacon strip, and a sausage link. Harry and Louis made their own plates and sat down digging into the delicious food.

****

After breakfast, the kids went on a Scavenger Hunt for something Louis wasn’t allowed to know about. Maddie and Freddie had both dressed up as scavenger hunters for the occasion and were both very adorable in Louis’ opinion. Especially when they pretended the dogs were wild animals they had to escape from. Louis was currently lounging on the couch with his legs in Harry’s lap as he graded some papers, Harry looking over some papers and occasionally rubbing near his shins and ankles.

What are you looking at over there?” Louis asked laying his stack of papers on his stomach to look at Harry.

“Lawyer papers.” Louis sat up keeping his legs in Harry’s lap and moving closer, so his arm rested on Harry’s shoulder.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just want to be prepared…I don’t want to be blindsided by anything because I didn’t read the updated case papers.” Harry explained looking at him with a tired smile, he shifted to better face him with his arm resting on the back of the couch and his other hand resting between his knees, “What about you? How’s grading going?”

“Oh, grading is fine. It’s tiring but it’s fine. Each year is in the same class, so I only have one set of papers to grade since each year is different work.” Louis explained, “So what are they doing anything?” Louis asked when a loud giggle came from upstairs.

“They’re on a scavenger hunt for the ring box. Maddie asked if she could find it yesterday, so I hid it and made it into a treasure hunt for them. It’s an easy distraction and it makes them feel involved in the engagement process. I took a parenting class by parents online a few years ago that has a whole bunch of tips and tricks from other parents who want to and have formed better relationships with their children as they grow up. The one thing they all emphasized on was making the children feel needed and included in everyday lives. Like with setting the table, it makes them feel included in the dinner process. Helps them with responsibilities and such. Some kids it helps with emotion control. I still go back to website from time to time when I need help with Maddie or just to see what new parents are doing or asking about.”

“So, you’re not always perfect.” Louis teased making Harry laugh as he shook his head.

“No not always.” Harry said looking at him with a soft look on his face, “Are you worried about anything? With the court or marriage or anything?”

“I think I’m most worried about what my nonexistent relationship with Freddie’s father might impact your case, but there’s nothing we can do about that. I know logically it affecting your case is very slim, but still. It’s there. I don’t want that to ruin your chances.”

“It won’t. My lawyer even sent me an email explaining that it most likely be brought up by her lawyer as a way to make you look bad, but your relationship with your son and with Maddie will outweigh that by tons. Especially if Maddie talks with my lawyer about you and says she likes you. He has it on recording that she doesn’t like Hannah’s boyfriend.”

“What do you mean by recording?”

“It’s just a standard interview with the child to get their response on things. He asks her a few questions about what she thinks on certain things and uses it as evidence. Hannah’s lawyer done it as well and has the same recording which looks bad for Hannah considering the things she said. He wanted to do the same with Freddie, but I said no. The lawyers can’t question the child without the parent’s permission, but I don’t want Freddie dragged into this. Now when it comes to the custody hearing when we’re married and living together, they may challenge to do so just so the court knows he likes us being married and likes living with Maddie. That kind of stuff. But again, with him being so young he isn’t able to be questioned without our- well your say so.”

“What type of questions? Would I be able to read them before they’re asked?”

“Yes and no…They have to give you the list of questions before hand and get your approval. Anything you disapprove of you can tell them not to answer. However, it has to be done the same day as the meeting. They have to be in the same room to make sure you don’t influence his answers. With him being younger than Maddie they will most likely question him in a playroom setting and with you in the room but not close enough to influence anything. My lawyer is a father himself, if he thinks at any point Freddie isn’t understanding or just isn’t ready, he’ll end the questioning and they’ll scrap it.”

“Then I’m okay with them questioning Freddie closer to the court date. I want him to get…settled with this new arrangement first, but if your lawyer thinks it’ll help and if Freddie is okay with it then I’m okay with it.”

“Louis you don’t have to do that-“

“I know I don’t, but I want to help. It’s why I’m here after all isn’t it.”

“You’re here to marry me and essentially play the role of the at home papa who has routine work hours that means Maddie won’t be home with a nanny. You’re not here to make your son be questioned by lawyers.”

“I’m not making him do anything. We’ll ask him when it get closer to the time and if he doesn’t want to then we don’t allow it. Where did all that making them feel included speech go off to?” Louis teased.

“My wisdom only comes in short bursts on my days off…unfortunately you’re stuck with average Harry at the moment.

“What a shame. Smart Harry is way hotter.” Harry laughed pinching his leg making Louis jump and quickly hit the hand away.

“I’ll tell my lawyer the next time I speak with him that you’re thinking about it. He wants to meet you at some point anyway, I figured next weekend since I’m on nights we can plan for a meeting over breakfast before I go to bed.”

“Sounds good. We’ll plan like a Saturday breakfast meet up and then while you sleep, I can hang out with- damn Zayn gets Freddie…huh I’ll be free this weekend.”

“Lucky you. Whatever are you going to do with a whole weekend of freedom.”

“Well, I am moving soon so I guess I’ll be organizing things. Maybe go down and see my family for a few hours. Get drunk in the comforts of my home. Who knows? I could just laze around naked all weekend.”

“I hate you. God do I hate you.” Louis laughed resting his head in his hand as he stared at Harry, Harry stared at him mirroring him by resting his head on his hand as well. His amused expression turned soft after a few seconds, “How hard would you slap me if I kissed you?”

“Extremely hard.” Louis said chuckling.

“Like a cheek slap or a chest slap?”

“Probably a cheek.”

“Worth it.” Harry said before he was leaning in and pressing his unbelievably soft and very warm lips against Louis’. His hand that had been resting on the back of the couch cupped the side of his face while the hand that had been resting between his knees squeezed just above them. Louis had his hand raised and primed for the slap he had threatened him with only for it to end up curled in the hair on the back of his head instead. When the slap didn’t happen, Harry leaned further in and deepened the kiss while his hand slid into Louis’ hair pulling him in closer. Louis will forever deny that he got hard within ten seconds of snogging, he didn’t care what his body did, it didn’t happen. He would also deny the fact that he so easily complied with being laid down with Harry above him as if they were teenagers. Because that definitely didn’t happen either. Another thing he would deny was how fast snogging led to grinding considering they were in fact adults…not teenagers.

“DADDY! LOUIS! WE FOUND THE TREASURE!” Maddison shouted from upstairs.

“Funny so did I.” Louis laughed and decided making good on his promise was definitely worth it as he slapped Harry on the shoulder.

“That didn’t happen. We are not fucking teenagers.” Louis said as they quickly sat up and adjusted themselves on the sofa to hide their erections that would dispute his teenager claim. Harry turned to the stairs just as Maddie and Freddie came reached the bottom and ran towards them.

“You found it then huh?” Harry asked.

“Yupp.” Maddison said happily as she handed the box to Harry who dramatically turned so Louis’ wouldn’t be able to see the rings as he made a show of opening the case and inspecting the rings.

“Yeah, these are it...see this one is Louis’ because it’s smaller and this one is mine.” Louis watched as Maddie took one of the rings then came over to Louis and he laughed as he watched Maddie kneel upfront of him and grabbing his hand, “Mads I’m suppose to do that.” Harry said.

“Hush daddy I’m busy getting you a husband.” Louis covered his mouth with his other hand to contain his laughter, “Loulou...” she addressed him seriously.

“Yes, my love?” Louis asked.

“Will you marry my daddy?” She asked, big green eyes looking up at Louis who grinned widely.

“I would be honored to marry your daddy.” Louis said watching as she slid a silver ring on his finger with an elegant and simple gold loop, “very beautiful, what do you think?” he asked smiling at her as she tilted her head.

“I think it’s missing a few diamonds.”

“I’m not much of a diamond man I think your daddy did perfectly. Besides diamond rings are for weddings not engagements.”

“Also, the wedding bands are picked together, the engagement rings are simpler design since they aren’t worn long. Especially in this case.” Harry said leaning over to gently pinch Maddie who giggled leaning away from him.

“Okay you’re turn Freddie.” Maddie whispered though they could still hear her loud and clear. Logic of a child. Freddie grabbed a thicker band that was the same design as his but was in rose gold. Louis watched as his son got down on both knees and grabbed Harry’s hand and asked the same question Maddie had asked him but using the term ‘papa’ instead.

“I would love to marry your Papa Freddie.” Harry said grinning when Freddie none too gently pushed the ring on his finger. Harry grinned over at him then leaned over and pressed a very chaste and quick kiss against his lips. Louis grinned pressing his hand against Harry’s cheek before turning to the kids.

“So how about we convince Harry to go to the dog park before the weather gets bad?” Louis suggesting looking over at harry when the kids cheered and started asking loudly and climbing onto Harry’s lap wildly.

“Alright! Alright!” Harry shouted playfully, “We’ll go to the dog park.” He said glaring at Louis.

[modernwizard]

Why I love Dhawan Master #26: His Delgadesco flourishes!

In no particular order, here is an illustrated list of reasons I love Sacha Dhawan’s Master, most of which boil down to the way that Sacha Dhawan so expertly embodies the Master to such a degree that we can look into this character’s mind as we never have before.

H/t  to @ventingbouto​ and the Little Things That the Master Does That I Just Love series, which inspired this.

#26: His Delgadesco flourishes!

The first Master was played by Roger Delgado, and no one has been able to do as amazing a job as him since. For one thing, the guy was a super talented actor. Classical or comedy, he could do it all, with gravity, pride, and pathos.

For another thing, the role was kind of written for him. Thus he was able to own it in a way that no other Masters can. They’re just borrowing it from Roger Delgado...

For another thing, he brought so much extra to the character. Jon Pertwee, who played Three, and Roger Delgado were very close friends, and that just shines through on the screen. Take a look at any episode with Three and Delgado, and you’ll see how much fun they’re having, how comfortable they are in each other’s presence, and how much they just plain like each other. That genuine emotional attachment gave the supposedly villainous Master a warmth and likeability that really grounded Delgado’s portrayal. Why yes, Delgado Master is an over-the-top embodiment of ham, cheese, and probably bananas, but Delgado’s ability to infuse the character with real-life emotions makes the Master that much more believable.

Wait a minute. This is not a paean to Roger Delgado. This is supposed to be a paean to Sacha Dhawan! Ahem. Sorry.

Anyway, Delgado Master is the bestest, and you just can’t argue with facts. Since I love Delgado Master, I enjoy any other Master’s references to him. Therefore, Dhawan Master, who revives some of the spirit and the aesthetic of the Delgadesco years, pleases me immensely.

I’ve listed some of these traits out in separate entries, but let’s gather together some of my favorite Delgadesco flourishes:

1. The tissue compression eliminator or TCE. It’s the classic Master’s preferred weapon. It first showed up with Delgado Master, looking like a cigar.

Ainley Master also wielded the TCE frequently, although his looked more like...well...a vibrator:

In a call back to “a classic,” as he calls it, Dhawan Master uses the same weapon, but with a different form. As I’ve previously discussed, it’s now a nifty little steampunk gizmo.

Sometimes reinventions of the old favorites lose the charm of the original, but the latest TCE retains all of its old flair. The flair, of course, consists in its ability to kill people by tuning them into dolls. The charm of the original was not the fact that it looked like a penis. Clearly Dhawan Master has improved the Incredible Shrinking Device!

2. The dapper self-presentation. As you can see from the picture above, Delgado Master is always immaculately and expensively attired, with fastidious attention to details [such as matching tie and pocket square]. Dhawan Master too enjoys bespoke ensembles with strong matching elements. However, his double-double-knotted shoelaces, cockeyed pants cuffs, and dusty shoes signal that this version of the Master is less preoccupied with details and a little messier than Delgado.

3. The use of assault. As I noted when I was talking about Dhawan Master’s weaponized intimacy, hand-to-hand combat is a rarity among Masters. Delgado, however, regularly karate chops, jumps on, and otherwise physically subdues the chumps who try to resist his psychic powers. By the same token, Dhawan Master chokes Thirteen. Neither of them, for all their dapperness, are afraid of getting their hands dirty and doing the brutal deed themselves.

4. He’s cool with the companions. Delgado Master and Jo, Three’s companion, had an interesting sort of relationship that approached respect sometimes. When he wasn’t trying to kill her, Delgado Master tended to treat Jo with courtesy [calling her “Miss Grant”], seeming concerned when she was hurt [”I’m sorry about your coccyx, Miss Grant”], and regarding her more with avuncular amusement than hatred or wrath. I theorize that, since she was the only companion who ever figured out how to resist his mental coercion [by reciting nursery rhymes], he grudgingly admitted that she was perhaps a worthy opponent. ^_^

As for Dhawan Master, I’m probably going to regret saying this when he murders the fam and fingerpaints with their blood, but I like how he seems pretty cool with the companions. Ainley Master was a sadistic asshole who stole Nyssa’s dad’s body and then lurked around, snickering, just to torment her. Simm was a flamboyantly misogynist, racist, and homophobe who tortured Martha, Jack, and Martha’s family and killed Bill. Missy played cat-and-mouse with Clara and psychologically abused Bill. By contrast, Dhawan Master has [so far] behaved in a rather, uh, pleasant manner toward Yaz, Ryan, and Graham. He saves his wrath and pain for their true target -- Thirteen -- and [so far] doesn’t bother fucking with the companions.

In fact, he even has some kind of relationship with two of them, at least in the person of O. He picks up on Graham’s curiosity about the Doctor’s past and teases him with his shelf full of information about Thirteen.

He’s also totally flirting with Yaz, for example, at Daniel Barton’s gambling party.

Master: Well, you know what they say. “Unlucky at dice, lucky at love.”

Yaz: Do they really say that?

Master: No. :(

And, during his dramatic in-flight revelation, he appeals directly to Yaz: “Stick with me, Yaz, because I control...everything.”

I have no idea if the Master’s teasing of Graham carries over from the O persona because he doesn’t address Graham after coming out as himself. The Master’s interest in Yaz, however, does carry over. Does he like her? Does he want to get in her pants? Is this foreshadowing for future manipulation in the form of some massively stupid plot where he tries to destroy the Doctor by seducing a member of the Doctor’s fam to evil? Please, God, let it not be the last one. Anyway, it’s nice to see a Master who’s not hellbent on humiliating, torturing, and killing the companions [yet]. Dear BBC -- for once can we have a Master who doesn’t kill the companions?