#lost in the dark capital sauce

[capnportofficial]

I posted this on Reddit because they're much more negative about Sidney, but it's going here too.

(Note: In this post I use "obsession" both as the dictionary definition of the word, and as the fanon concept. The fanon concept will be capitalized as "Obsession", and the dictionary definition word will be capitalized as "obsession".)

Sidney Poindexter is a great character. We have more information about his life than we do about any other ghost. We know the year he died (1958) and approximately how old he was (17 or 18, because he was in senior year).

He has a great design. While the color green is often overused in other ghosts, Poindexter has no green in his design at all, and yet still manages to fit in with the rest of the ghost designs. His monochrome color palette is arranged very well, and it fits with his personality and backstory and lair- he's stuck in the time period he died, stuck in that last year of school. He's black and white like a photo from that time period.

Poindexter even introduced the term "halfa"! The majority of the fandom uses it, but in canon, Poindexter is the only one who ever says it.

Speaking of fanon concepts and Poindexter, Poindexter's obsession with bullies is very similar to the fanon concept of Obsessions. People say Danny has a protection Obsession, but Danny's only protecting the town because, to quote Spiderman, "with great power comes great responsibility." Meanwhile, Poindexter sees the entire world in terms of "bullies" and "people who need protecting from bullies," even lecturing Skulker about it! Skulker is a gigantic hunter made of metal and guns who wants to skin a child, and Poindexter is a tiny little nerd with 0 physical strength whatsoever, and yet Poindexter bosses Skulker around repeatedly.

Poindexter's obsession and trauma drive the plot of Splitting Images. He's a teen/young adult who faced a tragic death, implied to be either murder or suicide, and both are horrible options to go through. As a result, he's fixated on the thing that caused his death, his bullies and bullies in general. He's so obsessed that he jumps to conclusions and refuses to consider that he may be wrong. This personality flaw causes him to be the villain of his episode, despite him being a morally good person.

Poindexter sees himself as the hero and Danny as the villain, which is a very interesting thing for the villain of an episode to do! Many other villains in the show just want to cause problems on purpose. Poindexter thinks Danny is the one causing problems on purpose.

We see that when Danny is in Poindexter's lair and body, he can only see through the mirror to the human realm when he's actively looking through it. This shows that Poindexter is very likely to not have seen Dash bullying Danny, and it's coincidence that he saw Danny's revenge.

To me, Poindexter is the most ghostly of the ghosts. He's stuck in the past, he had a tragic death, he haunts a specific location, and there's even an urban legend about him!

Splitting Images, and therefore Poindexter, is often hated for its bad forced moral. But The Ultimate Enemy also has a bad forced moral. At least Splitting Images plot has a Watsonian explanation in the form of Poindexter's personality and trauma being the thing driving the plot. Meanwhile, in The Ultimate Enemy, the plot is driven by burger sauce ex machina. I've seen many people who dislike Poindexter due to the forced moral of Splitting Images, but like Dark Danny despite the forced moral of The Ultimate Enemy.

To me, Dark Danny seems like a flat one-note villain. Despite the grief that caused his existence, he doesn't seem to care about the people he's lost, or about anything really, and merely focuses on destruction. He wants to recreate the events that caused him, yes, but what is his motivation for causing the apocalypse and destroying Ember's vocal cords and putting Johnny in a wheelchair before any of the time travel stuff happened?

Poindexter is much more nuanced in personality and has a sensible motivation for causing problems. (Not sensible as in it's a good idea, but it makes sense given his personality and trauma that we already know.)

I'm not saying people should dislike Dark Danny. But please, give Poindexter a chance. He isn't any worse written than the rest of the characters in this show. I brought up Dark Danny in comparison due to the fact both their episodes have dumb forced morals, but I could easily compare Poindexter's writing to many other characters as well. He's much more fleshed out than the majority of the ghosts. But this post is getting too long, so I won't.

[sgt-seabass]

hi! can i request steve kemp where reader lashes out during dinner one day? then he gets angry because he was being merciful lately and puts reader in their place. maybe he grips the readers jaw while he yells at them because i’m a whore for that 😩

𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔

✧˚ · .  𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺.

pairing — steve kemp x little!reader w/c — 1.3k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. warnings — little!reader, dd/lg elements, violence towards stuffies, implied kidnapping, referenced murder, threats, degradation, pet names (sunflower), minor violence against reader, blood play, cannibalism, yelling a/n — omg thank you so much for this ask. i love it. i don't see steve as the type to yell when he's angry (unless you bite his dick or smth) so i hope you like the way i went with this. not beta read. i hope you enjoy!

It’s not like Steve wanted to hurt you.

He had plenty of other outlets for his violent tendencies, but you were meant to be something relaxing for him.

And when you weren’t, it could easily send him into a rage.

The thing about Steve was that his wrath didn’t present as outward anger. He never raised his voice. He was rough with you physically, but his demeanour remained scarily calm, and he was always plotting his moves one step ahead of you.

You were his predictable sunflower, after all.

Cute. But oh so dumb at times.

This evening, Steve knew he’d have an issue on his hands the moment he got you from your cell, a defiant look in your eye that spelt trouble with a capital T. Even in your little space, a term Steve had learnt, you had your moments of fighting. You never were a big talker, but Steve could read your behaviours like a book.

His victims always had a hard time adapting. The thing was, you were holding onto your life while they lay in pieces in Steve’s cold storage.

With your dress flouncing with each step, a teddy hanging from your hand and Steve holding your other, you were brought to an immaculately set dining room table. The presentation of candles, flowers and shining silverware was romantic, but given the circumstances, Steve could tell your heart wasn’t in it. Your eyes didn’t light up for him, instead, they were filled with unshed tears.

It was insulting. He’d gone to all this effort just for you.

“I want to go home… Daddy, please let me go home.” You sniffled, clutching at your bear. He was missing a leg. Mr Bear had lost his limb when you misbehaved last week. He’d be a stump at this stage with your attitude.

“Stop being silly. Sit down.” Steve pressed down on your shoulders, forcing you into the wooden seat.

You sat stiffly, but Steve brushed it off. Once you tried the food, perhaps your mood would improve.

Steve watched from the kitchen counter as you shuffled Mr Bear to sit in your lap. He hadn’t bargained on a third wheel, but you’d grown attached to the stuffie since he brought it home from the hospital gift shop. You listened better with little friends, so Steve took the small win.

With a hum, Steve moved around the kitchen, plating your amatriciana pasta in pretty swirls. He could feel your beady eyes observing him, making him smile.

You were curious, always watching him. Steve appreciated your inquisitive nature because it meant you were interested in him. His little sunflower likes to watch.

Steve brought the pasta to the table, your eyes turning to the dish once it was placed down. Your lips pursed, fingers digging into your bear.

Did you know? Surely, there would be no way you could tell the difference just from the look. Steve sat down next to you, his own plate mirroring yours.

“Don’t let it get cold,” Steve commented, swirling the pasta around his fork before taking a big bite. “It’s delicious. I made it just for you.”

Nervously, you picked up your fork with little teddy bears engraved in it, picking at the pasta sauce. You were moving the bits of meat away.

Steve frowned, placing his hand over your wrist. “Don’t be rude and pick at your food.”

“What is it?” You questioned as you moved away the little shreds of pink meat.

“Pancetta. It’s pork,” Steve lied. The pancetta was actually called Laura.

You’d never eaten Steve’s desired cuisine before, so he wanted to start you on something small.

You turned your nose up. Steve’s eyes narrowed. You had better intuition than he had given you credit for.

“Eat the pasta, sunflower. This is your first and only warning.” Steve’s voice had lost its usual nonchalant tone. He wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, and Steve scoffed. He’d purposely not fed you all day so you’d be hungry, so he knew you were bluffing.

It seemed you were growing bolder in saying no to him, and Steve hated it. The broken angel he found on your first night in your cell was growing her wings back. And it was time for your feathers to be clipped— No. Snapped off.

Steve sat back in his chair, considering you. If a gentle approach wasn’t going to work, well, maybe he just needed to scare the shit out of you. It seems to work on his other victims just fine. He wasn’t even that mad, more irritated. But if he needed to act angry, he could do that.

“Right.” Steve tilted his neck, letting his bones pop to release the rising tension in his body. Your frame shook at the sound. If you wouldn’t obey him, he would have to take the alternate route.

Steve would worm his way into your head, turning your mind into his possession, not something you could control of your own volition. But first, you needed to be vulnerable.

There was an almighty whack when Steve grabbed your head and slammed your forehead into the table, not even a gasp leaving you with how little time you had to react. A split opened on your hairline instantly, blood trickling down your face and dripping onto your bear.

“Do you think I’m fucking around, huh?! When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it!” Steve gripped your face tightly between his fingers, his spit hitting your face as he yelled at you.

Your tears quickly began flowing, and Steve thought it was the prettiest sight he’d ever seen. With the deep red ichor sliding down your face, and your tears mixing in, it was a sight to behold.

Beautiful.

“Do you want to die? Because when you don’t fucking listen, you push me closer and closer to the fucking edge,” Steve growled, and you quickly shook your head with a sob.

“I— I don’t want to die!” You cried, and Steve pulled your face closer to his.

“Then listen to me, you dumb useless baby. You’re making me regret keeping you. I cooked this meal for you, and you’re going to eat it, or I will shove it down your throat myself.”

You let out a mighty wail, shaking with fear as Steve held you so tight there would be bruises left on your skin.

Steve had got precisely what he wanted. You hooked on his fishing line, ready for the slaughter. But instead of gutting you and selling you to the highest bidder, Steve wanted to keep you in a tank away from all the other fish.

Steve let you go, shoving your face away and ignoring your whimpers. He ripped the bear from your grip, putting it on a spare chair away from you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask for it back in your scared state, your bottom lip trembling miserably.

“Poor Mr Bear, always bearing the consequences of your actions,” Steve taunted, loading up your fork with food and bringing it to your mouth. The ‘pork’ (Laura) flecks stood out of the red sauce, and Steve could see the way you hesitated.

“Open that pretty mouth for me, sunflower, or Mr Bear loses an arm.”

That seemed to be all the extra pressure you needed, your head still bleeding as you leaned forward and took the food into your mouth.

You scrunched your eyes closed, Steve raising a brow. Were you expecting a horrible taste?

Confusion flooded your features as you chewed, and Steve patted your cheek. “It’s not bad, is it?”

“It’s… It’s nice...” You said with astonishment, and when Steve brought another forkful to your mouth, you didn’t hesitate to eat it.

Steve smiled.

His little sunflower was growing up.

Steve filled his fork with pasta, before swiping his finger through your blood and smearing your crimson across his food. You watched, mesmerised, as Steve ate his tainted food with a satisfied moan. “Mm, divine. See? Date night isn’t so bad, is it?”

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[glitchsam]

Into The Pit - Breakdown and Analysis

Part 1

Main Character: Oswald - 5th grader

On his way to his last day of school before summer break

After ~the mill~ that employed the majority of the town closed down, people moved out and their local economy suffered, many stores closed down; less things to do = boring

Oswald's dad used to work in the mill, now he has no other option than to work part-time at the deli counter of the Snack Space; Oswald is embarrassed that his dad works there and would rather him not wear his work vest when dropping him off at school

Oswald's best friend, Ben, also moved out of town because his parents found new jobs elsewhere, Oswald has no other friends and is dreading summer break

Dad tells him, "when I was ten, I wasn't home in the summer until I got called in for supper. I rode my bike and played baseball and got into all kinds of trouble." (Foreshadow)

Oswald liked to draw and "got lost" in drawing like he "became part of the scene he was creating. It was a welcome escape." (Foreshadow)

Oswald didn't know why but he found himself drawing mechanical animals - bears, bunnies, and birds.. (Is he being influenced by something he isn't aware of? How?)

Dad suggested a summer plan for Oswald: go to the library then get lunch at Jeff's Pizza where his dad could pick him up so he wouldn't have to be home alone all break

Zendrelix vs Mechazendrelix- Movie Oswald watches, described as an "old Japanese monster movie." (Reference to Godzilla vs Mechagodzilla - 1974 - the two monsters face off as Godzilla attempts to defeat his mechanical imposter)(Foreshadow)

Oswald wished for something interesting to happen ...

Oswald has a conversation with his mom about new friends, that maybe a new friend would move into town, Os says why would anyone move here, she replies "you never know. Or maybe somebody cool already lives here. Somebody you don't even know yet." (Foreshadow)

Jeff's Pizza is described as weird with big empty space; cheap yellow paint attempting to cover up old mural- can still see some shapes underneath it; stage that never got used; ball pit in a a rectangular pen with yellow netting, roped off with a sign saying "do not enter"

Jeff - appeared to be the only person to work there; looked as if he hadn't slept in a week; dark hair sticking up; alarming bags under his bloodshot eyes; stained apron with new and old tomato sauce; looked "tired and miserable" even when being nice; looked 100 years old but was probably just thirty; slow speech and movements like a zombie pizza chef

After a few weeks of this routine, Oswald started getting tired of it

"Dad had to remind him that the Important Thing Was That They All Got to Spend Time Together." - this part of the sentence has each word capitalized.. why? (In contrast to the depictions of fatherhood in the games, wealthy men who could afford to do anything with their children but spent all of their time working instead and neglecting their families)

They watch a remake of an old sci-fi movie as a family- dad says it wasn't as good as the originals, "it was set in the same universe as the real version, but it was kind of a cheap knockoff of the one that came out when I was a kid." (Might be foreshadowing to how the bunny will be a knockoff of him or/and could also be commentary oh how these stories are happening in the same universe as the games)

When Oswald retorts that at least the SFX are better in the remake, dad says, "I'll take a puppet or model over CGI any day." (Foreshadow)

Oswald wakes up in a bad mood one day, lashes out at his dad for not being able to give him an exciting summer/ not having more money; says of his dad leaving him at the library every day, " everyday you toss me out on the street like garbage. If this is the best of things, I'd hate to see the worst!"

On that particular day Oswald decides he wants to pull a prank on his dad that forces him to come looking for him and make an effort- decides he's going to hide in the ball pit

Part 2

Oswald thought the pit looked disgusting but forced himself to go inside; the pit looked obviously untouched for years; some of the balls were sticky but he didn't wanna know why

the dust tickled his nose and he sneezed three times (there is a superstitious belief that sneezing three times means your wish is going to come true- Oswald wished for something exciting to happen)

When he arose from the ball pit he was suddenly somewhere new/ somewhere else; kids were yelling, electronics were beeping, flashing lights/ vivid colors;

says to himself, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore" (referencing the Wizard of Oz- Dorothy going from a boring black and white world to a colorful and lively one)

Recognized the games as ones his dad said were from his childhood

The animatronic band on stage were the animals he had been drawing...

Saw that before Jeff's Pizza, this was Freddy Fazbear's Pizza

He bumped into someone and felt it- which means he couldn't be in a dream, but it was as weird as one; the kid he bumped into was about his age and his name was Chip, he also introduced Oswald to his friend, Mike; They invited Oswald to hang out with them

While walking around the arcade with his new friends, Oswald noticed a person in a yellow rabbit suit standing around being creepy, but no one else noticed it so Oswald decided to ignore it too

He wasn't sure how long he'd been in the pit so he decided he needed to go back to Jeff's, he compared himself to "some kind of mixed-up guy Cinderella" (Cinderella is also experiencing an illusion that tricks others and that eventually runs out); When he came back up from the pit, he realized no time had passed (was it in his head? time in our heads moves differently)

The next day Oswald ditched the library and went straight for the ball pit; he went in, counted to 100 and arose to the place he had been to yesterday; while roaming he caught a glimpse of a calendar pinpointing the year to 1985; the yellow bunny is still standing around being creepy

Oswald and his new friends talk about things that they used to like as kids but are creepy now; Mike says he used to have a stuffed Freddy but now the animatronic band gives him the creeps; Chip said clowns; Mike says or dolls like the ones in his sisters room that he feels stare at him; (These things they find creepy also connect to circus baby's and the funtimes; In the games Mikes sister turns into a giant doll and his little brother walked around with a talking stuffed Freddy)

One day the guys are talking about movies they like; Chip said the Eternal Song (1938 Yiddish film based on the song A brivele der mamen - a song about a mother who's son is going away- their financial hardships and wishing the best for him); Mike likes Back to the Future (which coincidentally starts off in 1985, tries to get back home); Oswald panics and says E.T. (about an alien trying to get back home)

Oswald feels guilty that he doesn’t have his own tokens to play with and tells his friends he’ll sit that one out, his friends tell him that they don’t mind and want to play with him anyways, but when Oswald stands up, he suddenly feels tokens appear in his pockets (how did this occur- implies this is more than just Oswald traveling in time- he’s in a space where things can just happen, like magic)

Oswald asks his dad how old he was in 1985 and if he remembered Freddy’s ; he said he was a couple years older than Os is now and that yes, he remembers it but it closed down; dad seemed nervous and like he didn’t want to talk about it (Does he know what happened? How much does he know? Was he there?)

This time, as Oswald arose from the pit, he didn’t experience the sights and noises he had become accustomed to, there instead was chaos- screaming/ running/ despair/ yells for help; he was scared but curious and despite knowing whatever was happening was bad, he wanted to know what it was; he also convinced himself that he couldn't be in danger in a time before he existed (but could he be in danger in a memory?);

"in front of him stood the man in the yellow bunny costume... if it was a man under there." (there likely isn't, its prob an agony monster in the shape of springbonnie); Oswald followed him through a door labeled "private"; he let the bunny lead him like a terrifying version of alice in wonderland (also taking place in a dream-like world); They entered the party room- half a dozen kids propped up in sitting positions, none older than Oswald, all wearing party hats, all dead, Oswald knew the rabbit was responsible and wanted him to see his work and maybe be his next victim

After seeing the kids, Oswald screamed and ran out of the room, straight for the pit; the yellow rabbit lunged for him and followed; Oswald arose back at Jeff’s - his dad finally doing what Oswald wanted him to do when he pranked him; His dad pulled him out of the pit, and leaned over it to inspect how gross it was- this is when the bunny grabbed him and pulled him under; after a moment of both the bunny and Oswald's dad being under the pit, the bunny arose alone, no sight of his dad, and guided him toward the exit

Oswald expected Jeff to notice he wasn't with his dad but he didn't, the bunny got Oswald into his dads car and drove him home - somehow knowing how.

Part 3

"Somehow the bunny was standing right in front of him" - (moving impossibly fast- not human/ real?)

Jinx (Oswald's cat) hissed at the bunny- knowing it wasn't dad

Oswald texted his mom, letting her know something terrible has happened; when she finally came back home she didn't understand what Oswald was talking about, she couldn't see the bunny- she saw dad; Oswald was confused but wanted to trust his mom, Jinx didn't and refused to leave his spot under the bed

The bunny drove him to school the next morning, everyone else treated it as if it was dad, Oswald decided the only way to get through it was to play along

"the yellow seemed to think it was his father" (but did it? why is it doing this? what does it want?)

A girl sat with Oswald at recess, a girl with black curly hair and big brown eyes named Gabrielle holding a thick book of greek mythology that she reads when she needs to be brave, that day she needed to be brave because it was her first day of school (Gabriel of the MCI? CC? Described similarly and holds an item that helps her be brave); Oswald realizes he needs to be brave too

Once home Oswald did his chores and tried to act like everything was normal, the bunny was doing chores too; later the bunny led him to the kitchen, he had prepared lunch for Oswald- pizza and punch. (the bunny is also trying to act like everything is normal)

First Oswald thought it was a guy in a suit, then that it could be a highly sophisticated animatronic animal, then maybe a real flesh and blood giant bunny.... (which was it? What was he?)

Oswald waited till night to sneak out and he ran towards Jeffs Pizza to look for his dad, he went straight into the pit- Inside he felt a body, he had found him; He was unconscious and while trying to help him up, the bunny appeared and tried to grab Oswald- Oswald fought back (did the bunny travel there or did he just appear?)

"it unhinged its jaws to reveal double rows of fangs as sharp as scimitars." "Mouth open freakishly wide." "Its jaws wide open, like a snake" (Double row of sharp teeth like the nightmare animatronics? Is this a nightmare?) (scimitar= sword with a curved blade, mainly used in the past)

Eventually the bunny got itself tied up in the ropes and was hung, he couldn't get himself free, looked as if he was grasping for air, he struggled for a moment and then went still, Oswald blinked and hanging was only an empty bunny suit (where did he go? was he real? like in the wizard of oz when the witch dies in the beginning, she disappears leaving behind only her socks and shoes)

Oswald's dad awoke and couldn't remember what had happened, he could see the costume hanging too; Jeff was just there cleaning (had he not heard anything? Did he know what was happening? Was he in on it?)

[anchanted-one]

Book of Storms. Legend of Vajra

Chapter 17. Onwards to Coruscant

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43208574/chapters/109405069

Coruscant, 5 ATC

Vajra managed to snag a good seat on the freighter, far from the latrines and right next to a window. He had also been lucky enough to have polite neighbours this time round. They were clean and hygienic, and didn’t try to steal each other’s seats.

Still, it wasn’t all perfect.

The trip to the food counters had been a nuisance. Rude passengers who shouted and cursed at him. Some tried to bully him out of their way, others tried to just pick on him. Vajra had sighed and pushed back his cloak to reveal his Lightsabers in order to get these bullies to back down, and they had run away like frightened rats.

The packaged food… wasn’t terrible. The bread was hard as a petrified branch and the sauce was oily and bland. The canned beverage was bitter. The chips tasted good, at least.

At least he hadn’t needed to go to the fresher.

When the shuttle captain told everyone to prepare for re-entry into realspace, he eagerly returned to his seat to catch a glimpse of the Republic Capital. It didn’t disappoint. The moment the wall of hyperspace turned into starburst and faded; the world filled the window.

He gasped softly, and the gentleman next to him kindly patted his head and asked, “First time on Coruscant, Son?”

“That’s right, Sir!” Vajra replied, his wide eyes taking in the planet. They had emerged behind the planet, where the sun had set. But even so, the dark hemisphere was brightly illuminated. Large blobs of lights, which were made up of smaller dots, like some kind of pointillist painting. The lights were arranged in several large concentric circles, which gave the entire world an artificial look.

Vajra closed his eyes a moment, and tried to get a feel of the Force, and saw the world as a molten star. It was a grander version of the artificial lighting. He could sense all the currents of life smashing into each other at great speeds; in a few places the crashing waves split into smaller crystals of light. Many wavefronts emerged which might spread across the galaxy, be felt somewhere a thousand parsecs or more away. The lights were of all colors, and represented all scales on the emotional spectrum; joy, sorrow, anger, pride, fear, hunger, satisfaction, lust, loss, victory, ambition, courage, villainy, greed, envy. Wild and chaotic.

And the music was discordant too; but the second you focused on one note, you could sway your hips to it. But there was a surprise; if you pulled out far enough, the many songs became one single concert, nearly in harmony.

One trillion lives coexisted precariously on this world; but coexist they did. It was spectacular!

“Where we’re landing, it should be late afternoon. Not that we can tell the difference, sometimes. Try not to get lost, child. Coruscant is a big world; even bigger than it looks thanks to all those levels of construction. It’s easy to get lost. To slip into some crack and never see the sun again. And I mean that literally and figuratively.”

“Thank you for the warning, Sir. I’ll try to be careful.”

As soon as they landed, Vajra retrieved T7-01 along with all his luggage. He’d stored most of his belongings in the storage unit on Tython, but he did have the five crystals Master Gnost had given him right before he departed.

He loved these crystals; they had been dull until he meditated upon them, after which they each shone with a different color and hummed a different song. One was yellow, with a lively song one might wake up to in the morning. One was green, with a song like hope. Another was orange, and sang of courage and strength. The next was ocean blue, and its song was peace itself. The sky blue one sang of loyalty and friendship. The last one was white, and sang of a love as pure as snow and bright enough to light up the darkest nights.

The gift had been priceless, and Vajra was determined to not hoard it to himself. One of these, the green one, would go to Jasme. Perhaps he’d give one each to T7 and Kira… but which ones?

He didn’t know. He only knew that he had to keep the white one for now.

For now, he hoped they would all light his way on the capital. For underneath the currents of life, he had Sensed a knife at its throat; a powerful Shatterpoint capable of shattering the whole Republic. This had to be what the Council had been Sensing.

It was subtle, but he could just make it out. And it was centered very close to where he stood.

When he activated T7, the little droid gave a happy greeting.

Vajra chuckled and patted its head. “Hello there!”

He followed him off the ramp, and halted in the customs queue behind him. As they waited, T7 piped up. “Spaceport = has been repaired since T7 was last here.”

“Was it damaged in the Sacking?”

“Affirmative. Memories =/= good.”

“I understand. A gent on the freighter told me not to get lost. I hope I can count on you.”

“T7 = never lost! T7 = Show Jedi the way. Escort = expected. Jedi: Vajra = wants to browse the Spaceport stalls?”

Vajra showed his ID to the customs terminal and was waved through at once. “There! We’re ready to go. Lead the way, little buddy.”

The Spaceport was so crowded that Vajra chose to hold one of T7’s claw attachments to stay close. T7 took him to a large section which was covered in food, clothing, and hardware stalls. Vajra led T7 to one of the food stalls at random and waited in line for a spot to open up.

Soon, he was given a table along with three total strangers: a light man and a beautiful dark woman, both with hot pink hair, and another dark male with a strong nose and jaw.

“Hey! Lookie here, Jerre!” the woman cried. “It’s a baby… er, what the heck is this thing called?”

“No idea, Captain.” The man called Jerre turned to Vajra with an apologetic face. “Mighty sorry about that. Some scumbag made off with our ship, so Juunie here’s been drownin in her cups.”

“I am not drunk!” Juunie said loudly.

“Sure thing, Captain!” the other man patted her back.

“My name’s Jerre Kraot,” Jerre said. “This ere’s Captain Juun Stede. And this fine gentleman over here’s Corso Riggs.”

“I’m Vajra Devarath,” Vajra introduced himself. “And this is T7-01.”

“You look a little young to be travellin with just an Astromech for comp’ny,” Corso said. “What’re you on Coruscant for?”

“I’m a Jedi,” Vajra said, trying not to make a big deal out of it. “I’ve been sent here to help with something.”

Jerre looked at him with interest. “A Jedi, eh? Are you what them Jedi call—shit, what’s the word? ‘Padded ones’?”

Vajra tried not to laugh. The man meant well, he thought. “‘Padawan’,” he corrected. “Or, you could just say ‘Apprentice’.”

“Got it.”

“Jedi: Vajra =/= Padawan,” T7 piped up. “Jedi: Vajra = full Jedi Knight!”

For a moment, all three humans stared at him. Then Juun burst into raucous laughter that drew everyone’s attention for a moment. “A Jedi Knight?” she wheezed. “Him? He looks so young!”

“Jedi: Vajra = has killed seven Rancors.”

That shut her up, but not in the way T7 had perhaps hoped. “Listen here, droid. If you’re gonna lie, make it believable. I’m drunk, and I can make up better stories th’n that! Just look at him!” She slapped Vajra’s back drunkenly. “He’s so spindly, I could use him as a lever on my ship! Once I get er back, of course!” She took a deep sip.

Vajra tapped the droid’s head. There was no need to argue the point.

T7 got his message and piped down. Vajra’s order, a plate of noodles, arrived a minute after he’d ordered. In all that time, Captain Stede talked about her ship, the Party Crasher, how it was a piece of junk until she and Jerre turned it into the fastest, most nimble hotrod in the galaxy.

Jerre and Corso gave up on trying to stop her when they noticed Vajra was more amused than annoyed. They instead spoke to him.

“So, you know someone on Coruscant who can help you find your ship?”

“I know someone,” Corso said. “He’s a bit of a scoundrel, but his info’s always good. He’s got quite a lot of friends out there, with whom he trades favors. And since we know the Party Crasher came to Coruscant, he’s the one to go to.”

“Iiit’s here, alright!” Juun declared, poking Vajra’s cheek. “I can feel it.”

Vajra pushed her hand away and tried again. “Coruscant’s a big place. I wish I could describe the busy maelstrom I Sensed from outer space. Like the galaxy’s busiest ant farm! Lots of things just… happening together. Events and emotions which only a trillion-lives planet can have.”

“Sorry kid, don’t understand all this ‘ere Force thing,” Jerre said apologetically.

“I get his meaning though,” Corso said nervously. “We do not want to get lost on this world. Or fall down the wrong schutta hole. Maybe it’s wrong to bet on one retired scoundrel.”

“Maybe, but we’re desperate,” Jerre sighed. “We’ve never been this far Coreward before. If we lose Skavak, we may never see our ship again.”

“I wanna smack him almost as bad as I want my ship back,” Juun snarled dangerously. She took a deep swig from her mug and screamed “Barkeep! One more!”

“That’s all for you, ma’am!” a waiter apologized. “And this isn’t a bar.”

“C’mon, c’mon please!” she begged. “I need this…”

“We’re not a bar, ma’am. If you really need to drown your sorrows, I suggest going to the Dealer’s Den.”

“That’s where we’re headed anyway,” Corso chimed in.

“Fine,” Juun moaned. “Can you at least get me something to eat? Chicken pot pie, like my best friend here.”

“How long have you known each other?” Vajra enquired.

“Me? Ten years now. Cap’n Stede taught me how to fly rings around Imperial and Cartel ships, back when we served under someone else. I stuck with ‘er when she struck out on er own. She’s a joy to work for. Believe it or not, she doesn’t often get this drunk.”

“I ain’t drunk, you lil toothpick!”

“And I met em a week ago,” Corso said. “I was working for a man named Viidu on Ord Mantell. He hired em t’ fly in some supplies. Skavak was working with us. That scamp’s actions led to Viidu getting killed, and his entire operation fell apart. I wanted sum sweet justice for Viidu, since he gave me a home and treated me like family, so I joined the cap’n here.”

“What’s the guard doing here?” Jerre asked all of a sudden.

Vajra turned and saw an armed quartet in a dark blue-and-black uniform. T7 whistled something, and Vajra stood. “That’s my escort. It was nice meeting you all. I hope you find your ship.” He waved a waiter over. “Can you pack this please?”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Juun stared at him intensely. “Why do you have an escort?” She gasped. “Are you really a Jedi?”

“Yep.”

“Wow,” she looked impressed. She looked him over and noticed the four Lightsabers. She tried to tap one of his arms experimentally, but he evaded her. “You really killed seven Rancors?”

“Yes.”

“Damn. Hey, since you’re a Jedi, would you mind picking up our tab? I lost my ship, you see.”

“But I’m just a kid, how can I pay for a grown adult’s booze? I’ll get in trouble.” He gasped. “I’ll get sent to bed without my dinner!”

She stared for a moment and laughed extremely hard. “Hit me up when you reach legal drinking age! I’ll buy you a real drink. Maybe I’ll take you to Nar Shaddaa. Best spirits in the galaxy!”

“Looking forward to it.” The waiter returned with his package and his bill. T7 whistled that this establishment didn’t take tips as Vajra counted out his money.

The seat Vajra vacated was immediately occupied by someone else, a Twi’lek girl who also got a warm welcome by Juun. She screamed and ran off at once.

*

[koscheys-skull]

@chromiumquartz

I would like to preface this entire statement by assuring you all that I don't think I know better than anyone nor do I think anyone should necessarily take what I have to say as gospel. Please don't do that. This is how I feel about an author and the materials brought to the occult community.

I have read plenty of Rev. Cain's materials and found that they are 97% Fluff. The books are more designed to be attractive to the practitioner that isn't looking for any materials that are useful but want to really tap into their angry, hormonal, and emo teenager energy.

Which does have its uses at times.

Rev. Cain does not cover good and critical lessons such as discernment methods, proper pre-ritual structures, historical backgrounds, wards and banishment, troubleshooting why rituals/spells/ceremonies went wrong, proper record keeping of your path and Pathworking guidance. (At least in the books I had read these subjects were nowhere to be found). There is a severe lack of educational materials and they are more... I really don't want to word it like this. But they are more for the LARPer rather than the Working Magician.

If you speak to anyone that has a very well developed practice or are in circles where people have been at this for decades or they are from Family Tradition Demonic workings, you will find that they usually share the same consensus. Rev. Cain's work takes advantage of religious oppression of Western and / American Cultures and capitalises on their feelings of being desperate to piss on a Bible as a coping mechanism and somehow that is supposed to mean something to the version of Satan that Rev. Cain has an idea of in his works.

Which Satan? I have no real clue because it's so blindly lost in the sauce of theatre and extravaganzas that it isn't exactly specific but it's loosely (iirc it's been a good few years and my brain did not enjoy the uselessness of the books) on Lucifer? But it's incredibly ignorant lens that he uses, in my opinion.

Rev. Cain's works are more for fluffy shock value and don't hold that much worth while education. If you want to fill yourself with more rage, hate, obsession over being angry with God and Christians and be dark, an edgy-edge lord and emo but not learn anything at all? That's all right. Sometimes that's just how it is. But I like real materials. Real substance. So it's not for me. I really do not need that kind of Catharsis.

I don't personally need books that just want me to pretend to be tough while being angry. I don't care to shake my fist at "God". I don't think about them at all. I have far more fascinating and incredible things to explore and to learn. To me, latching onto the themes Rev. Cain brings to the Occult world just prevents you from actually working through what is bothering you and the root of why you feel insecure, angry, and powerless. It sometimes provides Catharsis for people that experienced religious trauma. You don't necessarily need to abuse other religious texts and books to make yourself feel better though. You need to work through the trauma. It's okay to be scared, lost, and feel helpless. But Rev. Cain's works capitalize on the people that are trying to get out of their oppressive situations or feelings; and the outlet isn't bad necessarily.

It offers a form of physical expression and very theatrical expressions at that. The themes are meant to make people (who don't really know any better) feel as though they are doing something that breaks all the rules and boundaries and constraints that have been imposed on them and broken them down.

Now, I do need you know that this isn't a bad thing. The issue, however, is that it is overly inflated. Theatre helps many people. Even ritual theatre. Even pretending to do "Satanic Rituals" that make someone feel as if they finally are really breaking out of their oppressive life. It call can be a very helpfully and therapeutically cathartic.

But the reality is that the books aren't actually useful beyond that at all and then people re-supress themselves by being obsessed with what Rev. Cain's books brought to them: an impressive shock value experience that felt very liberating.

And then that is where they often stay. They remain just as ignorant as when they started because they don't know how much more there is out there.

Rev. Cain has since come out with many other books that explore other Demonic themes. But I feel that he leans so heavily into Christianity that he might as well write fluffy books for Christian Witches as well. Just swap some words around and you get the same picture.

I never encourage people who are starting out to go for Rev. Cain. I encourage other Authors who provide far more useful materials. Are they a lot more dry because they're educational? Yeah. They are. They aren't necessarily as fun as Rev. Cain. But their usefulness is far surpassing.

These are just a small handful of other authors I personally really enjoy. 97% of my reasons I like an author is based around how actually useful the information is that I am getting out of them and how properly conducted and articulated it is.

Jason Miller writes excellent books that are jam packed with tips and tricks you only get by trying and failing until you succeed. Very well educated on many different traditions and structures and fact checks himself. He writes comprehensively and very smoothly but has a sense of humour. The re-readability of Jason Miller's books is very high because you can always reference them when you need the information. And that's a good thing. You should be doing work that you need to stay on top of your awareness of.

Kate Freuler has a rather appealing book called Of Blood and Bone. This was considered mediocre by a psychopomp colleague of mine but I enjoyed it a lot. As a Folk Demonic practitioner and a Necromancer who literally works with raw body parts as a critical part of my practise, this was a refreshing book. Not enough books cover the value of blood, sweat, piss, and feces. We Folk Practitioners have a tenancy to be very... very down to the earth. Nothing is disgusting to us. We use every nitty gritty material that organic bodies and the earth provides us. This book was good in my opinion. There were some bits I was like "Eh" about but overall it scored a 8.5/10. Which is considerably good. It gave value to many very important and uncomfortable parts of real gritty and difficult subjects and practises without there being nothing but fluff. It has a little bit of fluff. But I think it is because she knew people might need some desensitisation if they were new to the subject.

For education on the Dukante traditions, Connolly has published works of course. While there is a lot of discourse over her works and I'm not personally a huge fan of her recent materials (she is just reskinning old texts and reselling them which is cheap and predatory), I do encourage people to read her older works including the Complete Book which is massive. Buy it used if you can as a new copy is about 30$. It is a very thick and well loaded book though and there is zero fluff at all. Zero full all text. I did enjoy the Keys of Ocat for the most part. (I can dislike an Author but read and like the materials, by the way. Connolly is not one of the authors I personally like but I refuse to deny that the materials are all bad. Just the recent stuff is subpar and embarrassing.)

Lon Milo DuQuette is very reliable of an author. Exceptionally educated and very impressively well rounded. This incredible man has a reputation for having not only a comprehensive way of bringing attention to very critically useful materials but he gives contexts and background information as well. Everything he brings to a book he gives more context clues to where it came from, why it has worked, and why things could change or how they can be adjusted. He is a creative individual and I love his works. "Let me Introduce an Insider's Guide To the Occult" is a wonderful book to start with. Jake Stratton Kent was an incredible Author who we recently lost. His works are very highly recommended. A goetic practitioner, Kent has written very good works that are very educational and provide incredible baseline materials while also encouraging practitioners to advance themselves through Trial and Error (which is how you "Get Good"). Amazing recordkeeping and background checking the works, Kent was an amazing Occultist and his absence is a theft to our communities. He included information from Italo-French grimoires which keeps a lot of its historical and pragmatic values.

I also encourage Mortellus. A wonderful Death Worker that does incredible works that are deeply desired and coveted by the Death Working communities. They write some of the greatest Death Working books that I have ever had the pleasure to read. Covering themes from Grief to Joy, the body, the mind, the spirit, humans and animals, life and death. They do an incredible job at bringing an amazingly educated and very experienced way of educating people through their works and their books. They are also a craftsman and sell incredible jewellery pieces, reagents, perfumes and resources.

Now. These other Authors and their works are not the same as Rev. Cain's works. Their use and functionalities are worlds apart. As well as many of their themes. But if you read, for example, "Consorting With Spirits" by Jason Miller and then read a Rev. Cain book you'll see what I mean.

Rev. Cain books are just not for me. I don't find them useful. I find them fluffy and theatrical with no real functionality beyond being a paperweight and even then I am hardly getting my moneys worth of a text in most books. They are not worth my bookshelf space. I have read 4 Rev. Cain books and not one has impressed me and I have had to force my way through them and eventually decided "yeah I think the first three were not flukes. These just are not for me." And I put them aside and donated them.

There is actually one final Rev. Cain Book I have in my possession but no one wants it because they don't care for his works. So I'm still stuck with one. But eventually it'll leave my house.

Tl;dr

I don't like Rev. Cain. I find all the works fluff and useless and without actually functioning materials.

I recommend authors like

Jason Miller. Jake Stratton Kent. Lon Milo DuQuette. Mortellus. Connolly. Kate Freuler. Etc. You'll get your money worth if it is a subject you want to be educated in and the materials are drier but they are useful and able to be applied and tested.

(Heck. Even MacGregor is a better place to start in my opinion.)

I want to emphasise that I dislike the following authors for a variety of reasons - all of which have come from my own personal study, evaluation and reading of their works or by testing their works. There are other authors I also dislike. But for all intents and purposes these are some of my top "Avoid" authors: Asenath Mason E. A. Koetting Michael Ford Edgar Kerval "Nine Demonic Gatekeepers" .... I'm not even going to ask. Donald Tyson Rev. Cain

I also avoid literally anything by BALG or O9A and Neo Nazi groups as a whole. I don't tolerate that. I wanted to ensure everyone was aware of this because I am a random influx of followers. If I find out that you're within those spheres, I will block you. You are welcome to unfollow. In fact, I do encourage it.

[ofherlionheart]

7, 10, and 26 for like the sun inside of you? ❤️

7. What inspired the idea for the plot?

even tho this is a zukka fic it actually all started w/ mai! as i was first dipping my toes into zukka fic (licheral years ago now) i was like … why can't i find a hefty fic set in canon 'verse that keeps mai deeply intertwined in z's life as her own person? b/c i was convinced those two would never be able to leave each other's lives/leave each other alone. and then i was like … what if i tried writing that fic? the opening scene of ch 1 was easy to write — banged it out in maybe 2 days max, maybe another day for editing. the love, care, and disconnect i tried to express in that scene was what i wanted to be a core of the story's larger plot.

that said, i dove into ch1 without a clear sense of plot, so most of the first 1.5 chapters was just me asking, what's an interesting problem that z probably has to deal with post-war, either on the personal or political/international level? and then i'd write a scene or two gesturing at that problem. it wasn't until ch2 started becoming really unwieldy that i was like, uh, i should start figuring out how im gonna resolve all this shit within 5 chapters. while also working towards the zukka lol

10. Share a screenshot of the original outline (if u dare)

oh boi SO. i didn't actually have an outline for the first 2 chapters, if that wasn't already super apparent. so parts 1 and 2 of the outline were actually added to/completed after the chapters were finished:

then i actually started outlining by ch3. i, too, hate that i left this as one massive fckn block of text. it doesnt even fit on a single page in my text document lol that's why this screenshot cuts off

as i add more details on the fly while (sort of) following the outline, i started keeping a list of unresolved shit. fingers crossed any of this actually gets resolved lolololol

aaaaand ch 4 and 5 finally have slightly more structure :)

26. Wild Card! I'll tell you a fun fact about this fic!

chapter 4 is NOT going to end with the new year 👀😈

behind-the-scenes fic asks

[kaiijo]

love triangles in twisted wonderland (ii)

characters: ruggie, kalim, cater, malleus, sebek, jack notes: gn! reader, mix of jpn and eng translations

ruggie bucchi vs kalim al-asim

Ruggie didn’t know how he felt about Kalim. On one hand, he represented everything Ruggie really despised — spoiled, oblivious, lazy upper-crust people who wouldn’t know a struggle if it hit them in the face. On the other hand, Kalim never gave him a real reason to dislike him beyond his socioeconomic standing.

That is, until now.

You and Kalim, much to Ruggie’s dismay, had been paired up for some Astrology project. You two had been friendly before but now, you were attached at the hip. Or, more accurately, Kalim followed you around like a lost pup, which made Ruggie roll his eyes every time he saw it. You didn’t seem to mind though…

It was a rare moment nowadays to have you to himself, so Ruggie capitalized on the fact that you were alone at a cafeteria table and that Leona had been sound asleep in the gardens at that moment. Skipping the line and ignoring disgruntled cries, Ruggie got a hamburger and joined you at your table.

You perked up when you saw him, offering him a smile that made his stomach flip-flop. “Hey!”

“You mind if I sit here?”

“You know that I don’t. I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!”

“Yeah.” Ruggie resisted the urge to point out that Kalim was the reason for it, instead opting to say, “I’ve been studying my ass off for Vargas’s exam.”

“Me too,” you sighed, resting your cheek on your palm. “Who would’ve thought the Headmage would make him do a written exam?”

Ruggie replied, “I heard something different — that Professor Trein basically said Vargas wouldn’t be able to pull together one since he’s got muscles for brains, or something like that.”

You snorted out a laugh, “Even if that isn’t true, it is in my head.”

Ruggie bit down on his lip to keep from grinning too widely. Your conversation carried on, blissfully uninterrupted, for approximately seven more minutes (not that Ruggie was counting or anything) until the exact person Ruggie didn’t want to say bounded over in his endless sunshine.

“Ooh! Is that the blush sauce pasta?” Kalim asked you, leaning over your shoulder. Ruggie huffed when your attention was pulled from him. “Do you think I’ll like it? Can I have a bite?”

Ruggie glared at Kalim as you twirled up a bunch of pasta, holding it out on your fork for Kalim to try. He wondered if Kalim was purposefully a messy eater or if that was just him, but some sauce splattered on his cheek. “Whoops,” Kalim said and you just shook your head fondly, wiping some off with a napkin.

Deliberate or not, Ruggie had one thought cross his mind: Two can play that game. With that, he braced himself and drove his knee upwards into the table. He let out a yelp of pain and your attention was immediately diverted. “Are you okay, Ruggie?” You shot up from your seat and came over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Roll up your pant leg — is it bruising?”

As you started pulling the fabric up, Ruggie shot a sidelong glance at Kalim, who was watching intently with a pout, and his mouth pulled into a smug smirk.

Ruggie: 1, Kalim: 0.

cater diamond vs. malleus draconia

Since Riddle and the rest of the housewardens were away on some bonding retreat organized by Kalim, Cater decided to throw a party. Half of it was to be able to have fun without Riddle getting on to him about the rules, and the other half was because he wanted an excuse to spend time with you outside of class. You had been pretty busy recently so he was really looking forward to chilling with you.

Imagine his shock when he saw you walk into the dorm with Malleus Draconia at your side. Tall, dark, and regal, Malleus cut an intimidating figure as followed you across the room, headed for Cater. “Hey!” you chirped, grinning brightly. “Thanks for inviting us.” Cater’s heart skipped a beat as he soaked in the sight of your smile.

Malleus nodded along and said, “It was very generous of you.”

Part of Cater wanted to say that he invited you, not Malleus, but he definitely wasn’t going to say that. Plus, maybe he could get a Magicam pic with him at this party? “Of course!” Cater replied, “I’m super excited to have you here!” He turned to Malleus and said, “Not often that I see you out and about!”

You looped you arm through Malleus, something both he and Cater took note of, and said, “This is Malleus’s first big party so I was thinking you could show him around and introduce him with me?”

“I’d be surprised if people didn’t know him,” Cater said. “But I’ll definitely help.”

“Ah,” Malleus spoke up. “We wouldn’t want to impose on Cater. I would be okay if you just showed me around, Y/n.”

Cater’s smile faltered but he recovered, shaking his head. What was that about? “It’s no trouble at all, really.”

“It’s uncourteous of a host to leave his guests unattended and to curry favor on one,” Malleus pressed and Cater’s eyes narrowed. What was Malleus playing at?

It didn’t take long for Cater to put two and two together. The way Malleus didn’t reject your touch, the way he arrived with you, the way he insisted that only you showed him around, the tenderness with which he looked at you — Malleus liked you. Panic bubbled up in him. If that was the case, and you brought him with you to Cater’s party, did that mean you liked Malleus romantically?

At that exact moment, another thought dawned on Cater. “Shouldn’t you be at the housewarden retreat?” He nearly jumped when the aura around Malleus became a mix of gloom and irritation.

You definitely felt the shift too as you asked, “Cater, can I talk to you alone for a sec?” You grabbed his arm and hauled him off somewhere, calling sweetly over your shoulder to Malleus, “We won’t be gone long!”

You led Cater to an empty hallway and said, “Malleus wasn’t invited, so I decided to bring him here to, you know, cheer him up!”

Ah, now that made sense. His body relaxed a little. So this wasn’t a date. You just felt bad that Malleus wasn’t invited.

You continued, “I know you’re hosting and it’s a lot to ask, but could you help me just make sure he has a good time? Or at least isn’t sulking alone in the corner?”

Cater considered this for a second. He wasn’t too keen on babysitting Malleus for the night but if it meant spending time with you… “Sure, no problem!” When your face broke into a relieved smile, Cater knew that, somehow, this would be worth it.

sebek zigvolt vs. jack howl

“Master Lilia!” Sebek shouted, rushing into the Diasomnia dorm. Looking up from a game of chess with Silver, who had fallen asleep across from him, Lilia asked, “What can I do for you, Sebek?”

“I seek counsel!”

“Oh? On what matter?”

Sebek huffed, “I am trying to find a way to spend more time with Y/n but I am at a loss for how to do so. Every time I approach them, they are with someone and even when they are not, people pop up everywhere.”

Lilia nodded carefully. “I see.” Lilia thought for a moment before saying, “You have a test in Defense Magic coming up, no?”

“Master Lilia, with all due respect, this is not the time to—”

Lilia held up a hand. “Let me finish, Sebek. You share that class with Y/n, if I recall correctly. So why don’t you invite them to study with you? Just the two of you, no one else.”

Sebek’s face brightened. “Master, you prove yourself once again to be a brilliant strategist! I am indebted to you!”

With a bow, Sebek ran off again, finding you in the Mirror Chamber, leaving your dorm portal. “Human!”

“Oh, hey, Sebek!”

“I am requesting that we study together for the Defense Magic test!”

“Oh!” You nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that would be great actually! It’s kind of one of my worst subjects, so it would be a lot of help to study with someone else.”

“And, of course, I know what I’m doing, so you’re in good hands.”

“Alright, do you want to go to the library now?”

“Ah,” Sebek said, “I… got banned for the day for my volume in the library.” He couldn’t tell if his face was warming from the admission or from your amused stare.

You chuckled and said, “What about the courtyard then? We need to actually do spells anyways, so that’s a better option.”

Sebek nodded and you two walked to the courtyard. As you two started studying and practicing together, Sebek learned two things: one, you weren’t lying when you said Defense Magic wasn’t your strong suit. You managed to put a shield around a bench instead of yourself. The second thing was that, while he was okay at the subject, he was nowhere near good enough to really effectively help you study. And if that was the case, how could he help and defend the Young Master if he couldn’t help you, the person he liked, with such a simple thing as Defense Magic? And if he failed the Young Master—

“Jack!” The call of the name snapped Sebek from his downward spiral, and he followed your gaze to Jack, who was jogging across the courtyard. Sebek couldn’t help but grimace when the other boy made his way towards the two of you.

“Hey.”

You asked him, “Your best class is Defense Magic, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think you have time to help me and Sebek with the shielding spell that’s on the upcoming exam?”

Sebek’s eyes narrowed as he watched Jack’s tail start to wag. Before he could answer you, Sebek interjected, “I’m sure we don’t want to bother Jack on his run.”

“I’m, uh, actually just finishing,” Jack said. “It’s okay, I can help.”

Without warning, you wrapped Jack in a hug, ignoring the sweat clinging to him. “Thank you so much, you’re the best!”

Sebek could only glower at your embrace and at the way Jack’s tail seemed to be rapidly picking up speed by the second. It seemed like he would have to take the loss, retreat for the day, and regroup with Master Lilia to craft a different plan.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP meme from Werewolf: The Apocalypse "Kinfolk: Unsung Heroes" Introduction & Ch.1

"I have normal human fears and frailties, despite my faith."

"I’m terrified I won’t be there when they need me, that I won’t be able to give fully of myself to save them when the time comes. And the price of my failure, for them, would be too high."

"It was like nothing else mattered, nothing else could fill my eyes like the sight of him."

"Now, of course, I realize I was in shock at the time clammy skin, disorientation, that sort of thing."

"That night misted over my senses; even now, it seems more like a vivid dream than anything else."

"I had to watch. I couldn’t turn away."

"That night, I saw I had to protect him. He needed me, and it’s just as simple as that."

"Let’s just say what I know has come in handy."

"The best folks give the most of whatever they can."

"Think about it — would you like to go through childbirth every nine months from age 14 to 50?"

"We’re human beings, dammit!"

"I’ll always do anything I can to help, even if I’m royally pissed; I don’t expect thanks or money, either. But it would be nice to get some respect."

"I'm not alone in saying that I hate being patronized."

"Give an inch, they’ll take a mile" is what some of them think about us."

"The rhetoric a lot of them use sounds like the same crap bigots give when trying to “justify” why women and minorities shouldn’t have equal rights."

"Just once, I’d like to feel like an equal, a partner in all this."

"Ever think about how hard things would be without us?"

"I see by your scowl that doesn’t satisfy you."

"Think of it as normal family responsibilities, magnified a thousand times."

"It’s practically medieval!"

"I mean, it looks like such fun to turn into a wolf."

"There are connections like you wouldn’t believe. Completely outside the law, these people can get dirt on the opposition, perform b&e without leaving a trace and provide muscle no other boss can beat. All they ask is some capital, some boltholes and a little legal cover. Sweetest deal in the world!"

"What do I think about it? Imagine what it’d be like for someone to call you and say you’d missed out on a million dollars because you got one wrong number on the lottery ticket."

"Some are too caught up in the things of humans —chasing after money to have what advertisers insist they can’t do without, living their soap-opera lives and not seeing what the world is really all about. I pity them."

"There is sweeter revenge than death."

"I laugh with joy thinking how your heart will burst should you ever have to face him in battle."

"It’s a great honor to be who I am, who we are. But it’s scary, too."

"Families can quarrel, snarl and cut one another to the quick, but in times of trouble, they’ll stick together."

"God, Allah, Gaia, the Great Spirit or whoever gave us this job, so we have to do the best we can with it."

"Blood also fetters our lives in hatred as well as love, I’m afraid to say."

"I’m not saying this is a fact, but if she was abused, it might explain some things."

"I’m sorry, I can’t quite imagine a moment of sensual passion with someone I don’t love, much less hardly know!"

"In other words, it’s the connections that’re vital, not the money or the mileage."

"Many have wealth, but not all; lineage, not money, is most important."

"That’s a heavy price to pay in a harsh world."

"Self-sacrifice is also important."

"Sacrifice comes in terms of emotional costs, too."

"It’d be pretty stupid for me to become a gun-toting mercenary, for example."

"To put a positive spin on all this, I guess I’d say it’s nice to be needed."

"I admit I don’t really understand what it is or when it’ll be, but many’s the Irish tale where a small oversight wreaked terrible disaster."

"So I got online and made a few phone calls and tried to get the “truth” in as many forms as I could."

"The word “family” has come to mean a lot more things than the 1950s concept of mommy, daddy and two perfect children."

"Raising children is no bed of roses, either."

"Kids love to test their parents and see just how far they can push and still get away with it."

"There’s no way this could be easy."

"Some days, I have to bite my tongue, and that does get old."

"I was just too stupid and blind to see it."

"I always felt like I was split, alone, part of something I couldn’t name."

"Listen, you have no idea what it’s like to watch someone you love slowly lose her mind."

"There are some, well, bimbos."

"You know, the ones that like to control CEOs and topple careers."

"Here, try a piece of this chicken gizzard. I get ’em real cheap down at the butcher shop. No one else seems to want these extra parts. I grill ’em with a little barbecue sauce and honey mustard. Delicious! Thanksgiving’s always the best time, though. Then there’s turkey necks for the takin’!"

"Our families are pretty big, and we figure even the most distant cousin or friend of a friend’s part of the group."

"I’m sure you know, working with people all the time, how far thanks and a friendly smile go when you’re dead on your feet. It’s like the sun’s come out on a cloudy day."

"I mean, some of that stuff is long outdated!"

"It’s more a matter of belief and pureness of spirit, if you ask me."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"The Network also has a lot of splinter groups that organize among youth, educators, environmentalists and so on."

"We’re steadfast and steady, yet vibrant and alive, warriors, artists, writers, musicians beyond compare."

"I don’t know if we can save them, but we won’t give up."

"To be tested and accepted by the greatest warriors in the world — no greater honor can we ask for."

"Think of us as the tiny little parts that hold a machine together. Maybe it could function without us, but not without a lot of wear and tear on the system. You get my drift."

"If leader seems weak, I test him. He shows strength, I stop."

"They’re the ones who are causing all the problems by rebelling against the people in charge. They need to settle down and just be content with what they’ve got, if you want my opinion."

"Why should I worry? It’s a clear day. Traffic’s light, but walking’s fine. You get to see where you’re going. I’ll hit a little town ’fore dark and trade a song or story for some food and a piece of floor."

"Revolutions are intolerable and inexcusable."

"The aristocracy attained their positions for a reason, for only the most worthy were chosen to lead, after all. If the

lower classes overthrow the aristocrats, anarchy is the sure result. One need only look at history; Can the Russians truly say their lot improved after they murdered the Romanovs?"

"History has always been a beloved subject to me."

"I pity those souls, displaced by fortune, who are ignorant of their heritage. How can one know who he is without knowing where he comes from? A man — or woman — is the sum of all who came before."

"Money is not the issue; many great families lost their fortunes, yet retain their nobility."

"It’s a poor teacher who doesn’t learn from her student; in this way, the knowledge of both increases."

"Dreams, of course, are the pathways of our souls; here rest our secret desires, fears and hopes."

"You doubt me. You don’t speak against me, but I can see your heart is dubious."

"There’s no greater glory than to serve the destiny of the universe."

"The lacerations looked exactly like the work of sharp teeth, deep into his flesh."

"I won’t go s’far as to say there’s undying loyalty, but we do have a lot of respect for each other."

"Were I as capable as my ancestors, I’d kill you now and never spare a second thought."

"No atonement can replace those lost children."

"Thus far, we have been lucky, but it’s just a matter of time before someone we don’t want sneaks in. It’s not that I want to close ranks by any means; I just wish we paid a little closer attention to who came in from the cold."

"Yeah, yeah, I know you think we’re a dime a dozen. I’d like to believe we’re a little more special than most."

"We’ve built too much for a rotten apple to spoil it all."

"I don’t believe this guy; it seems almost too perfect to be true!"

[jeeperso]

D&D Quotes Without context

Miscellaneous Edition, for those quotable lines from between sessions

"All I wanna do, is fork a giant woman! A giant woman!" "Jonni, I'm pretty sure she is some type of undead, probably a vampire. Are you sure that is a good idea?" "If I don’t get turned into a blueberry it won’t be my worst date." "Okay, but if you have to defend yourself just don't burn the place down for once." "Oh, Nyx. Sweet summer child. I never make promises we both know I won’t even try to keep." "Jonni, if I wake up to my bed surrounded in flames again I'm short-sheeting your next bed every night for at least a month." "I know you're trying to score here, but Lady Dimitrescu's daughters are literally vampires AND bugs. I can overlook one, but as a Paladin, it is my sacred duty to burn this place to the ground and stir the ashes."

"We don't let Marshall make breakfast anymore." "Those waffles are well-fortified." "I'm going to be charitable and call it hardtack." "We can use these waffles as melee weapons." "Well if we need to deflect siege engines they'll be good to have." "This is still carbon based and digestible by human systems without any poisons." "I can't serve this. It'll cause ... death." "Marshal we've been over this. This Pizza has 10% less of a lethal amount of grease." "Plus they signed the waivers when they bought a ticket. It's fine." "And don't forget to push the Cakeon." "Cakeon being slices of cake wrapped in bacon." "The special sauce is a mixture of mayonnaise, ketchup, mustard, ranch, horseradish, cheddar cheese, sour cream, and anything unfortunate enough to fall into the mixing vat."

"You do have a copy of the legal code I requested in my letter? As landed gentry you should actually have legal avenues to... I'm sorry did you say Burning child?"

"First I'm going to nail a crossbow bolt through your heart. Then I'm going to mount your balls to walls on opposite sides of this chamber." "I need Three Barrels of Butter" "Are you serious? Those Claws could crush an elephant in full plate!" "You're Right!" *Turns to first person* "We might need more than three barrels of butter."

"So Ioun is the patron of poor college kids. that scans "

"its hardtack or a mug of molten cheese-fried... something in a woven mug of bacon. your choice."

"Welp, all this coke ain't gonna snort itself..."

"Right hand me that dress and the bail money. I'll get Jonni." OOC: Well I mean they allow men in the city. Its just no men live in the city. "I stand by my statement. I'm allowed to look pretty every now and then." OOC: And dragons are the most unprejudiced lovers of anyone after bards.

OOC: Well I mean come on, its Ravenloft: saying a place is of death and madness is like making the observation the day ends in y. "Going out. Getting laid." "Jonni, she’s a werewolf." "Going out, forking a werewolf." OOC: Well Lycanthropy isn't usually sexually transmitted. Its just that Mercedes is a biter. OOC: ...I don't have an appropriate response to that.

"You seriously think I’d turn on my friends for a pile of gold?!?" "sigh I’ll show you my tits. "Hot damn, let’s get these murders done!" "No, Jonni, stay good. Besides, there are plenty of other girls who will do that without asking you to murder us." "Hmmmm… this is the moral quandary of my life…" "I’ll give you five bucks." "Scales tipped!" "Phew, I thought I was going to have to cover her next trip to the topless bar." "No, no, I have the bail money right here."

Nyx: So what’s the inside of Jonni’s head like? Edmund (with thousand yard stare): Imagine every ladies only smut magazine you’ve ever heard of going on forever into infinity while everything is on fire. Food was good though.

"It’s cool. They stole it." "And you know this how?" "Magic." “90% of Ravenloft deaths are mysterious vanishings.” "Why does everything come out covered in glitter and … is that …" "Lube. I’ve got a few theories." "Please don’t share them."

OOC: This is a plan that ends with Strahd having fewer brides, his castle is in flames, and he’s lost his cape.

OOC: Our team consists of a horny pyromancer, a gnome who can fillete you in five seconds, an HP lovecraft protagonist with actual magic backing them up, a literal slab of iron with a face, and a guy with a "I went to the eternal city of Ryleth and all I got was PTSD and this lousy T shirt". Gorbash smashing his shield into their face: "Have! You! Considered! Therapy!" OOC: Good news is you guys will no longer be the most conspicuous guys at the masquerade now. Jonni: Challenge accepted! "Nyx, the bounty on stealing his fake mustache is still on."

"Vanilla is the king of flavors. What does it say about society where vanilla is considered just 'regular'?" "That they have a lot of vanilla." Lash: "Don’t you want wishes?" Jonni: "Do I need wishes to get to see you naked?" Lash: "No?" Jonni: "Fuck ‘em." Vesh: "Oh dammit its my arranged fiance." Pit Fiend: "Milady." Vesh: "An extra wish to whoever punches this douchecanoe in the nards." Jonni: "I wish…for Bigby’s clenched fist of nard punching."

Soth: "Oh, gods, why am I on fire and why is Immigrant Song playing?" Jonni: "Take a guess." Hazlik: "Okay, so its a partridge, stuffed inside a chicken, stuffed inside a duck, stuffed inside a turkey, and the whole thing is fried on a stick. Congratulations, that's the most horrible thing I have ever seen, and I once crossbred an elephant and an owl." "I give him the 'itis, and we run like we stole something." OOC: ...weirdly Curse of Strahd has stats for Strahd zombies but not Strahd Skeletons. Or Strahd's skeletal Steed. Strahd once went to a branding seminar hosted by Bane and it changed his life.

"Are we on a high enough floor that if I throw him through the window he'll be killed by the fall?" "Oh, but when I say stuff like that it’s all 'Jonni, murder is wrong.'" "When they say pick your battles they don't mean to pick all of them. That's too many battles Jonni. Put some back." OOC: He's technically already got a symbiote. OOC: They can get married. Gorbash: "I'm increasing the rent." Venom: "Can I keep the pool table?" Gorbash: "I'm not a monster." Giant Brain: "Jonni… I have summoned you here for… WHY AM I ALREADY ON FIRE! PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!"

"Hello We're the party-crashers. This is Jonni, she's here to steal your women and burn your shit down. That's Nyx, she's going to repatriate certain items from the premise. Marshal over there, is here to studiously ignore our shenanigans. This is the New Guy. He seems pretty chill. I'm Gorbash... and I have been distracting you."

"Will you walk into my parlour?" said a spider to a fly. Jonni: "Hold up. Trying to sex a spider." Nyx: (throws her hands up) And then Jonni wakes up with a spider venom hangover webbed to a wall waiting to be eaten. Jonni: "Eh, I’ve had worse one night stands. I’m not a fucking blueberry." OOC 1: Hey, where does your weed elf grow [her] crops? OOC 2: She probably just grows them in the room she hasn’t paid rent on. OOC 3: Because I was also considering a circle of spores druid tortle. OOC 2: We could be partners! We could turn this into road to el dorado staring Cheech and Chong. OOC: Wait, I just realized five people are hanging out in a pirate bar, and none of us are rogues. We are gonna need someone to get thieves tools. OOC: We have a barbarian with a big stick.

"Are we Foxhound now? Blunderbuss Octopus." OOC1: You want to put the stoner in charge of food. OOC2: Eyup. OOC1: I see no way this can go wrong! OOC3: We need the four basic food groups. Beans, Bacon, Whisky, and Lard. “We pray to Almighty Darkseid! Give us a sign! Thumbs up, for the triumph of the human spirit! Thumbs down to begin the everlasting reign of darkness!” “Where did you find this guy?” “Me? I thought you hired him.” OOC: Yup, nature, arcana, history, investigation and religon at +6. MJ got baked and watched the Discovery Orb a lot. Tordek: "But we have a cleric, Jozan, over there." Strahd: *sigh* Snaps fingers, and suddenly one of Strahd's brides sucks Jozan out the window, cue screaming. "Oh look, you suddenly have an opening, how fortunate." Tordek: "We also have a druid...." Vadania: "SHUT UP, TORDEK!" Edmund: "I think the first order of business may be to discuss your Human Resources strategy..." Strahd: "I have a guy for that too."

"When someone as smart as him talks with himself, it's not crazy...They call it monologing." "I thought it was soliloquy?" "No, soliloquy is when you're talk at someone else when your talking to yourself." "Most people would run from a demon, you run towards it to study it." Professor: "THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FASCINATING! A FROGHEMOTH, AND RIGHT UP CLOSE, IT WILL BE AMAZING TO SEE THIS PERFECT KILLING MACHINE IN ACTION." OOC: Also note the Professor is Lawful Good, Archie is Chaotic Good, so collectively they balance out to Neutral good. OOC: That's good. "The incinerations will continue until morale improves!" “You never incinerate the women!” “Because I’m fucking them!” “I… was not expecting you to be so honest about that…”

"You got what you wanted....but you lost what you had...." "Yes, I'm familiar with how capitalism works."

OOC: Dragons are like, “That’s Krandor the shiney. He only fucks other dragons. Weirdo.”

Gorbash: "D'awww, so tiny... perfect size... FOR PUNTING!" *boots tiny mind-flayer into the horizon*

"Dracula hasn't been spotted in almost recently. Whats he gonna do, destroy all we know and love like he definitely can?" "... my god you people are too stupid to live." "What are you doing in my house?" Gorbash: "...well Edmund has been reading your books, I've been sorting through your armory, Nyx and Irost has been going through your other shinies, Marshal has been cleaving anything monstrous that gets too close, and Jonni has been lighting things on fire to stave off boredom." Gorbash: "Okay Marshal, Jonni. Rock, paper, scissors over who gets [to kill] the bishop."

Jonni: "Did you really think this would make up for what you did?" Nima: "I… killed everyone you grew up with." Jonni: "Yeah, and I’m still not forgiving you for what you did to Eddie." Nima: "I am missing some key context here…" Nima: "Also I committed identity theft on you by having my new undead army tell everyone you are running the show." Jonni: "Oh, no. You’ve fooled the boar tribe. Who still haven’t figured out shitting in a hole." Nima: "Yeah I noticed that. I ruined two pairs of shoes attacking their camps."

[lamentations-imaginations]

hi!! can we get some valentine's day headcanons with the brothers? feelin kinda lovey dovey ngl 😔

Meant to get this done in time for Valentine's day, but late is better than never right? 😅💖

Lucifer

Valentine's day huh? While he does recognize the frivolous capitalism of it, he doesn't ignore you.

The way you talked about it, and how it could be the giddiest or the most miserable day for people made him want to make it the best for you.

He'd toy with you through it as a secret admirer. You would have to find note, reading each note to find a clue to find the next one.

As you progressed the last one could only mean Lucifer's room. It was daunting as you weren't entirely sure, and going to his room without permission could mean the end of you.

But fuck it, you were going to figure this out.

You entered and the door immediately closed behind you. On the bed was one last card, one offered a white chocolate night or a dark chocolate night. You only had to speak it.

The rest is up to you ~

Mammon

The only thing he liked about valentine's day was the knocked down prices on the 15th!

It was a steal! Why pamper your valentine on the expensive day when you could do it all on the cheap after day?

Everyone who heard his plan blanched. Even you. The brothers immediately went to console you with presents and treats that easily topped Mammon's.

Well when he saw that, nu uh. No way. He immediately started hatching a new plan.

You didn't see him for a while, and he would often get home late and exhausted. It was starting to worry you until it was Valentine's day.

He appeared in front of your door in his butler outfit, blushing and tsuntsun.

He takes you out on the town, seeing the sights and being ever subservient to you.

Turns out he actually worked and saved up money at Hells Kitchen to give you the most spectacular day in Devildom.

You went back home and feed him chocolate. How is up to you~

Leviathan

Valentine's day? You mean special vday items, loot, skins, and game events right?

He had been so busy making a schedule of when to farm what games for all the event drops, that well... You sadly kinda fell by the way side.

It infuriated you to no end! He just couldn't see it!

On the day of you had had it. You forced yourself infront if the screen, pouting with tears, and declared that you wanted his attention and you wanted it now!

He was at first pissed at you interrupting his precious time, but your declaration reached him loud and clear.

His face turned red and hesitantly asked why? He was a stinky Otaku? No one would want to celebrate with him right?

Now it was your turn for embarrassment to overcome you. Your confidence faded as it grew more difficult to look him in the eye.

You did your best to mumble that Valentine's day was a day for couples to ya know date... Spend time together.. Eat sweets.. That sort of thing.

He was so red and flustered, hiding his face in his sleeves. He was the clueless protag?!?

He pulled you into his lap, your back against his chest, and held you close. With it being the day he admitted he wasn't sure what to do, to which you explained that you just wanted his attention and chocolate.

He could manage that! He managed to pull out some chocolate pocky rations and shared the box with you, promising to do better next year.

You smiled and promised to hold him to it. But you upped the anti by turning it into a pocky game. He never actually dreamed of playing the game with someone other than his rurichan body pillow, so his hesitance was adorable.

The rest is up to you.

Satan

Satan was rather.. Well confused. How on earth did a massacre become a capitalistic holiday for love making?

He had read up on the Roman festival of Lupercalia, and then how Catholics turned it to more of a martyrdom to repeal the pagan attachments.

He had to admit the idea of Lupercalia was rather intriguing.

It wasn't lost on him how Shakespeare pushed it further with the romanticism in his writings. He often smiled, flustering you with reciting Shakespeare's lines.

He would also take care to create a special handmade card, some magic to keep it in good repair and some of his cologne.

He give you a choice however: a night of poetry or a night of how the Roman's celebrated? The rest is up to you!

Asmodeus

He is the king of Valentine's day!

He'll shower with so many gifts and affection that it would be near suffocating.

You'd wake up to bouquets of your favorite, and 13 roses.

Your breakfast would be your favorites plus a small stack of pancakes with freshly sliced strawberrys layed into the shape of a heart.

He'd have a perfectly sized outfit for you as he flaunted you around Devildom. Taking in the sights, and hidden beauties the realm has to offer.

Once home he'd prepare an interesting meal of baked oysters with Buffalo sauce, chocolate covered fruits, and his own self made cocktails of cupids kiss.

It isn't until you've finished that he tells you they were all natural aphrodisiacs. It's not like you were drugged, but he did want to up his chances for an intimate night.

The choice is yours.

Beelzebub

Himbo at heart. He is very food centric.

You have to keep him in line though, or you might not get any food yourself!

He wants to make it a special day of cooking for each other, a surprise dish of love for the other.

However he keeps eating/taste testing his dish, so it doesn't really become a surprise. You help him keep the food out of his mouth long enough for it to become a substantial dish.

You're still able to surprise him with your dish though! And does it bring a smile to his face. He can tell its cooked with love and doesn't waste a drop.

He does manage to surprise you with a box of chocolates he had Belphie safe guard for him with an handwritten note.

You enjoy the quiet evening of good food and good company together.

There are interesting ways to enjoy chocolate though. The rest is up to you.

Belphegor

The once human fanatic remembers and nows more about the true meanings of Valentine's day, almost as much as Asmodeus.

Its hard to motivate him, but the thought of you being flustered and giddy from a gift from him? Priceless.

He hangs out more with you trying to figure out the best present for you. Your likes. Your dislikes.

He's already made a pact with you so that's not an option.

He doesn't want to be any old bouquet or card. It has to show its truly him to you.

On the day he does get you your favorite flowers and type of chocolate.

But he also got you your own matching pillow. Similar to his, but your preferred fabric and color. And even with your name embroidered into it.

Together you eat chocolate on your pillows, cuddled close in the privacy of his now free attic room.

Chocolate, plus cozy warm, and comforting hands can lead to more.

The rest is up to you.

[kingdomofbretonxrpg]

Parties: Our Villain and (In order of appearance) Liana Romano, Jadon Floch, Kit Chareonsuk, Rory Pierre, Aramis Gagne, Julia Pelan, and a security team.

Date: October 12th, 2022

Location: An unknown location in Vannes.

Triggers: violence, abuse, kidnapping, threats, horrible language, neglect, gun shots, gun wounds, fighting, and probably others.

@lianaromano-ofmaine @jadonfloch @kit-chareonsuk @rory-of-nantes @aramisgagne @subjuliapelan

ooc// A conclusion.

Liana tried for the umpteenth time to swallow the lump in her throat. When she had first seen some shady happenings going on at one of the buildings she passed daily on her way to one of her job sites she instantly got a bad vibe, but tried not to think too much about it. She had seen worse in Verona. Then she realized something bad was happening with Jadon, and then others, and that building meant much more to her. She reported it to Cyrus and after some surveillance, a team was dispatched to the location for a rescue mission. She was asked to tag along to help the team get to the location but was under very strict orders to not leave the car. Anticipation and dread both filled her as she fidgeted in her seat, especially as they got closer to the building.

Jadon sat perched in the corner of his cell, no longer willing to look in the mirror at the shaggy head and thick beard that covered his sunken features. “You know what really grinds my gears about all of this?” He mused aloud to no one, indifferent if the others heard him but obviously perturbed, “I’m gonna die not knowing who the hell one this library challenge. I had a really good bet going against Eliane.” His fingernails chipped at the paint on the wall. Jadon had lost track of the number of days he’d been down there, making him cynical, “Anyone care to sprinkle some optimism on this shituation?”

Kit jumped at the sound of a voice before realizing it was Jadon’s. They’d sat in silence in the dark for some time, long enough for Kit to get lost in his thoughts and anxieties, wondering where Aramis was, if he was okay, and when the bastard who kidnapped them was going to come back down to check on them. Kit had to be ready with more shitty things to say to him. But Jadon’s statement took him out of his head. Was this guy serious? The library challenge thing? That’s what kept him up at night? Or whatever time it was. Time felt weird in this basement dungeon situation. “Pretty sure whoever won the library thing, Eliane won between the two of you just for not ending up in this basement.” Kit was not exactly the person to go to for positivity. “But we’re alive still? I think...?” 

“Ayyy, take that back. I bet her ears are burning just by you whispering those words into the universe.” Jadon groaned into the cement wall, but the corners of his mouth tweaked into a small smile. “Not a chance in hell she beat me.” Running his fingers through his shaggy locks he let out a sigh, “What day was it when you got here?” He’d kept quiet for the most part, not mentioning the grazed wound on his arm or the promise from their kidnapper. Jadon still didn’t think they were getting out of this alive, even if Kit thought otherwise. So he bit into his chapped lips every time a meal turned up hoping that the last memory he had wasn’t seeing this guy kill his companions.

“What universe? There’s only this basement.” Kit tried to remember what the date had been. It could only have been a matter of days, right? “September 30. Wednesday,” he told Jadon. He’d tried to keep track of the time by counting, but gave up on it quickly. Time was an illusion anyway. “What about you?” He knew Jadon had been here longer than him. What had Kit been doing when Jadon had been taken. How long had it been for him? How long would it be for all of them before they were either found or killed by the madman who’d taken them?

“The nineteenth.” His steely blue gaze squinted over in the direction of Kit’s voice. “Got me when I was leaving J2.” He hesitated, scared to even ask. “Does anyone even know I’m missing or did they just assume I was out getting the life that Javan kept insisting I go out and get… Rory turned up not long after me.” Jadon had tried not to think about what was happening out there, now he was cursing himself for his boyish curiosity, what good could come out of it?

As Liana pointed out the area in question, she felt the car begin to slow. Anxiety bolted through her as she wondered what they would find, if anything. If they did find something, how bad would it be? She honestly wasn’t sure if she was mentally prepared for all the possibilities so she did her best to focus on the positive. They were doing something. They were trying. They had a chance. When the car stopped she took her seatbelt off so she could crane her neck, trying to catch a glimpse of what was going to happen.

The nineteenth. Kit frowned deeply. More than ten days before his own kidnapping. “I don’t know. I hadn’t heard anything,” he admitted. He knew that Aramis would know something was wrong. He’d texted just before he had that gun shoved in his face. “I’m sure someone knows by now though. About all of us.” They had to, right? He sighed, wishing he could actually be sure. “I texted my boyfriend to let him know I was on my way home. I’d just left work. And…he knows who this guy is. Our kidnapper. He’s going to figure it out. Soon.” 

It was hard to not take the news too personally. This wasn’t, after all, about him- he’d told Cyrus as much when he’d suggested the self-defense classes. With a long sigh Jadon tried to channel his pre-kidnapping optimism. “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. If you got a message out that you were on your way home and obviously Rory’s dog is just out there alone… I’m sure someone’s out there looking…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish his sentence that someone was looking for them, not him.

Rory had no idea how long she’d been in that cell. With the lack of windows in the basement to let in any light, day and night had become the same. She tried to keep track of the time based on how often she and her fellow cellmates were brought food; but considering she now spent most of her time sleeping and fighting off severe waves of lightheadedness, any sense of time she may have had was long gone. Between her inability to eat the food that was served without feeling sick to her stomach and the fact she’d not taken any of her much needed medications in God only knew how long, she’d gotten to the point she had some trouble registering what was going on around her. And then whenever the lights were kept off in the basement, forget about it. In the darkness, she was alone. Alone and sick and scared and confused.  

Our Villain: He was irritated. He was tired of cooking for these fucking capitives (although pasta noodles and tinned sauce was scarcely a hardship) but still. He wanted this foolish project over with. He had been waiting for days for further instructions. Although in preparation, he had already taken the time to prepare the holes in the yard for a swift vertical burial (horizontal holes could get you caught. That was the kind of shit the Watch looked for). He walked down the stairs, plastic bowls of food and three water bottles in hand. He dropped the bowls through the tray slots created for this purpose, unconcerned if it spilled everywhere. The bottles of water fell afterwards, uncaring again as they tumbled across the floor. 

Jadon looked at the food and up at their captor, “Hey, what’s in here...in this sauce?” His gaze moved from the food to Rory’s cell. He was already wondering if she’d be able to touch it without getting sick. His worry on her and not being able to help her if she had an allergic reaction. This guy clearly didn’t care.

Our Villain: “If you don’t want it. Starve.” He stated flatly. “Frankly you’ll be easier to bury if you lost some weight anyway.” He continued with a shrug as he finished ‘serving’ the meals to his captives. He would have left them down here to rot but the boss said ‘alive’ so alive they would be. For a while anyway.

Maybe it was what Kit had said about not having heard any news, but Jadon was already feeling defeated. The sense of doubt and despair kept him huddled in the corner of his cell, ignoring the slopped over meal. He’d already lost weight, didn’t expect to get out of this, and there was little fight in him to do much but pass his food along to one of the others.

Kit glared at what was trying to pass as food and then up at their kidnapper. He wasn’t surprised the guy wasn’t exactly sympathetic to any of their dietary needs. “Wow, thanks, Mom. Guess we know why you made a career out of shooting people and kidnapping instead of becoming a chef or some shit. Though, you’re not really a good shot either, are you? Remember? You missed and shot a librarian instead of a duchess? Remember that? Armand must really like how you suck his balls if he keeps you around.” He really felt he was channeling his inner Dean. He’d have to thank his friend later when they reunited. 

A slight vibration travelled across the basement floor as a tray of food crashed down upon it, a vibration that mixed with the prior vibration of heavy booted footsteps was enough to alert Rory it was dinnertime. Slowly, she opened her eyes and glanced over to the tray of pasta and a questionable sauce that was splattered on the concrete of her cell. The mere blurry sight of it made her stomach lurch; though she knew she should at least try and eat something, even if it would lead her to feel sick again. The sick feeling was better than starvation; and despite the fog in her mind, she knew the importance of trying to keep her strength up right now. But she still hesitated, her eyes lingering on the tray for a long moment as she contemplated whether or not she could get up from her ratty cot without stumbling and falling over again.

Our Villain: He had ignored the girl completely now. She had been a good choice - she didn’t say anything or make any sort of fuss. He might actually sell her in another country rather than kill her. Someone was bound to enjoy a girl who didn’t speak. Then the pretty little bitch-boy was yapping again. “Listen here you little piece of shit. I’d be fucking delighted to use your corpse for target practice …. After I fuck your …..” Then he stopped. Was that a car? What the fuck? He turned and raced up the stairs. No one should be on this road, even by accident.

Aramis nervously wrung his hands together as the security team rolled toward the building they were sure Kit was being held. Well, Kit and the other captives - they’d discovered that he wasn’t the only victim of this crime. 

His stomach was so twisted that it hurt. Aramis’s worst fear came true - Kit had gotten hurt because of his past. Even more people had gotten hurt. But now that Katarin knew the truth, the full truth, he knew he’d soon get what he deserved. Kit just had to be okay first.

When the van parked, Aramis was the first one out, though he was roughly grabbed by a member of the security team.

“Look, you’re here only because Duchess Katarin allows you to be. If you get in our way, you will be left here in the van. Do you understand?” the other man said gruffly. The urge to punch the other dominant was strong, but Aramis relented. 

“Fine. Just... how the fuck do we get in?” he asked, impatient. If their intel was correct, Kit was just inside. All Aramis could think about was the possibility that his boyfriend was hurt and it killed him inside.

“You need to wait by the van, let us do a perimeter check and see if we can get any details on the building. Stay put. If you go in headstrong, you could jeapordize the mission and put the hostages in harm’s way. Including your boyfriend.” The other man gave Aramis a stern look and bumped his shoulder as he walked away, indicating that he wasn’t up for any kind of argument.

To his credit, Aramis did do as he was told and stayed put by the van, though he swore he was pacing through the asphalt as he waited anxiously. Every minute they spent talking felt like a minute wasted. What if he’s hurt? What if he’s hurt and I can’t get to him?

“Aramis, we have a plan.” 

He all but bolted in the direction of the security lead, ready to hear exactly what the plan entailed. 

“We need you to go in first to locate the kidnapper. We’ll have two people on the roof working their way down, and we’ll also have four people behind you as backup. We don’t know exactly where the hostages are located, nor do we know how we’re contained. Your job is to lure this prick out until we can safely detain him. Got it?” The security lead finished, giving Aramis a serious look. The plan was risky for him, but there was no way he would say no. Whatever it took to get Kit back safely, he’d do.

“I can do this. Just let me know when we’re ready,” Aramis replied confidently, looking over at the building. 

“Five minutes while we get into position. I’ll let you know when to go in.”

Aramis was already heading toward the front of the building, though he did pause and wait for the signal before stepping inside. He wasted no time trying to draw out the kidnapper.

“Hey, you son of a bitch! We’ve got unfinished business,” Aramis hollered into the hall, stepping inside. “Where the fuck is Kit?” He walked further inside, his voice raising. “Where is Kit?!”

Jadon had been about to give Kit a look for his comments about the food, about to tell their kidnapper to fuck off himself when he started popping off again, but he’d lacked the energy and as soon as his mouth bobbed open the guy was running off. His steely blue eyes looked over at Kit and Rory, eyebrows knit together as if to say ‘what the hell was that’ and then he swore he heard it, someone yelling.

A lot happened at once, and Kit struggled slightly to keep up. One second he was listening to a slew of threats coming from their captor. The rape threats had escalated to necrophilic threats, so that was new. But before the threat could be completed, the man was running up the stairs, seemingly alarmed. Kit perked up, listening closely. Then there was yelling. Aramis. Both fear and relief filled him. They’d been found, but Aramis was here. Aramis was in danger now too. He got up so fast, he was nearly lightheaded as he gripped the bars of the door keeping him contained, shaking it, trying to make as much noise as he could. “Aramis!” he screamed as loud as he could. “We’re downstairs! Aramis!” He didn’t even know if Aramis could hear him. He was shaking as he gripped the bars, definitely feeling a bit weak from days of being kept literally in the dark. 

Being in the cell closest to the door Jadon panicked, “Kit, are you sure?” He ran his fingers through his hair, still tucked against the wall in the back of his cell. “What if it’s just more of his people… a boss or something?”

Kit didn’t even spare a look for Jadon. He kept shaking his door, as if it would do anything to free him so he could get to Aramis. “I know my boyfriend’s voice. It’s him. I told you he’d figure it out,” he said. He’d been right. Now they had to get out safely and they could go home. “Aramis!” he shouted again, his dry throat feeling raw. 

Jadon nodded, pulling himself up and moving to the front of his cell, joining cacophony of screaming and rattling in the basement. His eyes darted between the door and the others, still not daring to hope they all just weren’t hallucinating. Picking up the water bottle he splashed water over at Rory and signed ‘people’ and pointed to the door before going back to shouting and shaking his cell door.

As water was splashed on her from the direction of Jadon’s cell, Rory glanced up in confusion, her eyes squinting in the darkness in order to make out what it was Jadon had signed to her. ‘People’? That didn’t seem right. Why would he be signing ‘people’? Her eyes then darted to where Jadon had pointed towards the door; and she watched him begin to shake his cell’s door. And then she noticed it seemed as if Kit was doing the same, shaking his cell’s door as well. Now she was even more confused as to what was going on; but at least she had an answer to what was causing the new set of vibrations she’d started feeling.

When the shouting began, Aramis lost sight of the mission. His goal had been to draw the kidnapper out, but now he just needed to find Kit. He was fairly sure he’d pinpointed his boyfriend’s voice. There was also a good chance he was hallucinating; he’d barely slept since Kit was taken.

“KIT?!” Aramis cried out, heading in the direction of the voices. “KIT?! Baby, where are you!?” He began jogging through the building, trying to find anyway he could to get to a basement. “KIT. I’M HERE. I’M GOING TO FIND YOU.” He wasn’t sure how well his boyfriend could hear, but he was going to keep trying.

“ARAMIS!” Kit shouted as loud as he could, shaking the door to his cell. “The door in the garage! The door in the garage!!!” He knew it was Aramis, even if the voice was muffled by the distance between them, the walls and floors keeping them separated. He’d managed to mostly keep his cool, experiencing his anxiety in his own body without showing it. But now, he felt like his whole body was shaking, his throat tight with it. Everything was about to come to a head, surely, if Aramis was here, and he was terrified, but he was also so close to going home. 

Aramis stood still, panicked as he tried to make out the words shouted at him. No doubt it was Kit. He was so close. 

Garage. He could easily make out the word garage. Aramis began running through the place as fast as his feet could carry him, hanging onto that word. Garage. Garage. Garage.

When he finally found it, he spent no time checking any surroundings. His eyes zeroed in on a door beside the entry - no doubt the way down to the basement. 

Aramis checked the door, but it was, of course, locked. However, the whole thing was only a flimsy piece of plywood. He could break through. Determined, Aramis heaved his shoulder against the door, already hearing the material creak under his effort. Deciding a kick might work better, he stood back, putting everything he had into it. 

The door splintered. Growling, Aramis kicked it again. And again. And again. And finally, it busted open.

Whatever the plan was with the security team, it was now long forgotten. It didn’t cross his mind that Armand’s man could be down there, or there could be any series of traps waiting for him; all he knew was that he had to get to Kit. Quickly, he made his way down the stairs, suddenly terrified of what he might find. 

When he finally got sight of his boyfriend, his knees nearly buckled; Kit was alive. Probably not well, but alive. 

“Fuck, are you okay? I mean, I know you’re not okay - but did that motherfucker hurt you? Are you hurt?” Aramis asked, panicked as he made a beeline straight to the cage. He reached through to grasp Kit’s hand, as if the other man might not be real. 

The joint fear and relief hit Kit again when his bleary eyes caught sight of Aramis, elated, even as his heart dropped at the thought of Aramis being in danger with them. Kit was sure he looked like a mess when Aramis saw him. Bags under his eyes, hands shaking as they gripped Aramis’s, and tears just looming in his lashes because even in this state, he refused to let himself become a sniveling mess in front of the others, in front of their captor, should he reappear. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to control his now hoarse, shaky voice. “You have to be careful. He’s still in the house I think.” He didn’t want Aramis to get hurt. “I don’t know where he keeps the keys. Are there others here with you? You’re not alone, right?” His eyes pleaded, hoping Aramis hadn’t done something as stupid as coming here alone.

Aramis moved close to the bars, wishing he could rip them apart so he could hold his submissive in his arms. He took Kit’s hands and brought them to his mouth, gently kissing his knuckles; it was the best he could do for now.

“No, baby, I’m not alone,” Aramis promised, refusing to let go of the sub’s hands. “There’s a security team here sponsored by the houses. As soon as you didn’t come home, I knew something was wrong. I told Kat everything that night and she started working on a plan. I would’ve been here sooner, but we had to figure out where you were...”

He swallowed hard, tearing his eyes away from Kit’s long enough to survey the room. There were two others down there as well; Rory and Jadon. Aramis felt his stomach clench; more innocent people hurt because of him.

“Alright. I’m going to go back to the garage, see if there’s anything I can find to get this lock open. I’ll be just upstairs, baby, and I’ll be right back, okay? I’m not leaving you here.” He squeezed Kit’s hands, reluctant to let go.

As Aramis walked by Jadon called out and asked, “Who? Who else came?” He wondered if it was security or maybe his brother looking for him, finding a sliver of hope for the first time in days.

Aramis looked over at the other dominant and shook his head slightly. “I - I don’t know, really. All people I haven’t met before. I think one guy’s name is Mark? Marcus? Marco? Look - point is there’s other people here and they’re supposed to be right behind me...” Though he was beginning to wonder what exactly was taking so long.

Jadon just nodded in return, trying not to be defeated. “What can we do while we wait?”

Our Villain: He had made it to the grounds and he was tempted to bolt for it but damned if he would let these fuckers off. That pretty little bitch in the basement needed two between the eyes so fucking badly that he could taste it. He circled around and saw a lone woman sitting in the vehicle. He narrowed his eyes and considered his options for a moment. Patting his pocket he realized the fucking keys were sitting on the kitchen counter. Fuck! What the hell did he do? All right, that settled it. He’d grab the little bitch in the car as a hostage and get out of here.

Liana had picked her fingers raw while she waited, trying her best to be patient. Each second felt like a lifetime when she thought about Jadon and the others, whoever they were, in that building. She rolled the window of the car down a bit in an attempt to get herself some air and to maybe hear if any progress was being made. She hoped she heard something good, soon, rather than something terrible she couldn’t let herself imagine.

Julia felt like her heart was in her throat from the moment she'd been asked to go along with the others. She'd known something was wrong for weeks- Jadon had stood her up, not returned her calls or texts, Rory hadn't been seen.... She felt guilty for coming to worse conclusions til now, but now that she knew they could be in very real danger, she was pushing her own thoughts and emotions aside, just wanting to help. But now this, just laying down in a car...it wasn't helping. She looked over to the other woman in the car with her and let out a breath, shaking her head as she sat up. "I can't just sit here anymore." she announced as she moved, grabbing the handle and climbing out of the car, none the wiser to anyone nearby watching them.  

Our Villain: Shit shit shit … there were two of them. Two dumb bitches just sitting around. Getting their dumb cunts wet he bet while the men went off and tried to play hero. Grabbing one of them would be stupid now since he couldn’t safely control two of them while he drove. Circling to the side, he tried to get out of eye-shot. He knew these grounds well. It had been a safehouse of his for years. These fuckers being here meant they would also inconveniently find the graveyard and the predug holes in the copse of trees behind the house. Dumb shits. He debated re-entering the house but those bastards that Aramis had brought with him looked like they knew what they were about. Pulling a knife from his boot, he dug it into one tire and then the other. He just needed the dumb broads to get back out and head toward the house. A couple of well-placed shots and one of them would be injured enough to scream for help and he could get in the remaining operational vehicle and get the fuck out of here. He was not going down for this - no way, no how. He did not deserve this betrayal. Fuckers…. His bosses needed to hear about Aramis turning on them. 

Liana was doing her best to stay in the car per Cyrus’ orders, but when she felt the car jolt she knew something was wrong. Her adrenaline was at an all time high when she climbed from the vehicle, looking around and wondering if she could throw some lucky punches if anyone was near. If only she had her gardening tools… That was a silly thought, but she’d been much more comfortable with a pair of gardening scissors in her hand than nothing at all. She stayed close to the car, peeking around the back in an effort to figure out what was happening. When she saw the slashed tires she felt the hair on the back of her neck raise on end. “Julia- Run!” She wasn’t sure where they could run to, but she had to at least try to warn her. If they both ran maybe they could distract the bad guy long enough that he wouldn’t get either of them.

Aramis squeezed Kit’s hand for a final time before pulling himself away from the cage. “I’ll be right back, baby, I promise,” he assured the sub as he took steps back, forcing himself from the submissive. It was not easy for him to do, but he had to find something to get them out of the damn cages.

While reminding himself to work on cardio and not just strength training, Aramis flew back up the stairs and back out into the garage. He searched the area quickly, trying to find tools or even something to pick the lock with. Frustrated by finding nothing, he moved on back into the house, searching each room he came across for something to help.

Part of him was cognizant of the fact that Armand’s man was lurking somewhere around here and would no doubt kill him given the chance. But Aramis pushed that away for now; he had to focus on getting Kit out of that cage. 

He was beginning to feel hopeless until he got to the kitchen. And there, sitting on the counter, was a ring of keys. “No fucking way it’s that easy...” Aramis muttered to himself, carefully looking around the room as if someone might pop out and shoot at the last second. Steeling himself, the dominant rushed forward and quickly grabbed the keys before heading straight back down to the basement. 

Triumphantly, he held up the ring of keys to the three prisoners. “Now the fun part is figuring out which fucking key. Any of these look familiar?” Aramis asked, passing the keys through the bars.

Jadon spoke up immediately. He’d been in there long enough to know which key it was. He may have been uselessly silent in that cell but he’d been observant. Moving to the bars he looked at the keys on the ring, for once glad that his eyes had adjusted well to the dark after years of nothing but night shifts. “Third one, real tarnished copper.”

“Be careful.” Kit felt his anxiety peak when Aramis had to step away from him, but he knew it was necessary. He listened closely, as if waiting to hear something terrible happen, sure that there would be some kind of run-in with their captor. Instead, thankfully, Aramis returned safely with a ring of keys, some relief filled Kit again. He reached through the bars for Aramis, not for the ring of keys. He opened his mouth to remark on the keys, but then Jadon spoke up with such certainty that Kit didn’t think he, himself, would be able to possess. There were many details he remembered from the day he was kidnapped. What the key that locked him in looked like was not one of them. 

The second that Jadon’s cell was open he followed Aramis to Rory’s door. “Hey kiddo, let’s get home.” He clapped a hand to Aramis’ shoulder in thanks as he went into Rory’s cell and signed ‘home’, offering an arm to help her up. Despite his weight loss and the homeless filth of him, he’d always been in top shape, a daily runner, and with his adrenaline pumping his only focus was on Rory. Jadon was sure Aramis could help Kit.

Rory hadn’t opted to get up from her cot the entire time she watched the exchange between Aramis and Kit and Jadon. She was afraid of what might happen if she tried to stand. But as she watched the door to her cell open and Jadon walk inside signing the word ‘home’, she knew it was time to get up. Like Jadon said, it was time to go home. A small smile began to spread upon her pale face for the first time in days? weeks? She really had no idea how long it had been. Slowly, she moved to a seated position, shutting her eyes momentarily as a wave of dizziness came over her. And once she opened her eyes again, they fell to the strong arm Jadon was offering out to her. She didn’t hesitate to reach out and take it, slowly making her way to her feet, wobbling as she found her balance. Home. She signed, glancing up at Jadon as her tired smile widened further, before leaning into his side for additional support. 

Jadon did his best to support Rory’s small frame, tucking her to his side as they made their way to the stairs out of the basement. It was a slow and tired slog and as they made their way to the top he felt Rory needing more and more support, “C’mon, almost there.” His blue gaze fell to her face, full of concern as the sunlight stun his eyes. “Almost out, c’mon. You got this, kiddo.” With no idea where their kidnapper was or where these other people that Aramis had mentioned were, he took a risk. Adjusting Rory’s weight at his side as he squinted into the blinding sunlight. Throat dry from shouting in the cell, he called out for help, wondering if he should keep pressing on with Rory or if he should help her sit down against the wall of the building.

Rory continued to lean against Jadon as he began to lead her up the basement stairs and towards their hopeful freedom. She felt as if she was going to trip up the stairs with each step; but the feeling of a strong arm wrapping tighter around her frame helped to keep her as upright as possible. Her eyes trailed up to Jadon’s face; and she could’ve sworn she saw his lips moving. But she had no idea what he was saying. She couldn’t focus enough to lipread right now. All her focus was on not tripping up the stairs. And somehow, she managed to make it to the top. They somehow managed to make it outside, into the blinding light of day. She quickly shut her eyes and let out a soft groan of discomfort. 

The second his cell door was opened, Kit wasted no time wrapping his arms around Aramis, hugging him tightly, doing his best to hold back tears. “I knew you would come. So stupid. Why did you come? You could get hurt...” He was so mad and so relieved at the same time. Taking one more second of comfort in Aramis’s arms, he pulled back. “We should make sure the other two are okay. They’ve been here longer than me, and Rory didn’t look so good.” Taking Aramis’s hand, he started after his dungeon companions, climbing up the stairs carefully. When they made it outside, the light blinded him, and he had to shield his eyes from the sun with his free hand, still holding tightly onto Aramis. 

Aramis held onto Kit tight, almost afraid if he loosened his grip that the submissive would somehow slip away from him. He closed his eyes and buried his face in the other man’s neck, taking comfort in his boyfriend’s warmth. He was back in his arms, he was alive, and though he looked worn, he was okay.

“I had to know you were okay,” Aramis admitted, pulling back slightly just so he could look at Kit’s face. He rested his forehead against the sub’s, sighing softly. “I didn’t trust anyone else to come get you.” It wasn’t like he had any special skills that the security team didn’t have; he was strong, but wasn’t the best fighter and had no medical knowledge. And yet. He still wouldn’t trust anyone else to get his boyfriend back.

Aramis fought the urge to pull Kit back into his arms when the sub moved away, but he knew they had to get out of there. The other prisoners needed help and somewhere in the house, the asshole was still wandering around. Reluctantly, he grasped his boyfriend’s hand and headed out from the dungeon with him, pulling him a little closer once they reached the top.

When Liana heard the call for help she immediately knew it was Jadon’s voice. There was no mistaking it. Her concern about the other woman and what was happening with the cars was pushed aside and she ran towards his voice. “Jadon? Jadon!” She ran until she saw him, somehow feeling both relieved and devastated all at once. He was alive and okay enough to walk, but he also looked horrible. Never in her life had she wanted to murder someone like she wanted to murder the person that had hurt him. She wasn’t to his side yet but she was close enough to call out “We’re here! Oh my god, you’re okay.” She wanted to sob and scream and cling to him, but knew that they weren’t out of the woods yet. That was what made her keep running in his direction.

It wasn’t until Jadon had heard a voice that he realized his heart was racing, ringing in his ears really. His eyes searched for the sound and saw nothing but stars in the bright light until she was closer, but still too far and he was too tired and weak holding Rory to close the gap. “Liana?” His head was fuzzy, confused as to what she would be doing there with Aramis. Then, behind her he caught sight of a too-familiar dark frame and he could have sworn his heart stopped, breath catching in his throat.

Our Villain: There we go. Okay … he needed to get fucking practical. Right fucking now. So what to do .. what to do.  He needed his keys and some essentials from inside the house. Which meant he needed a distraction. He rose to his feet and reached for the closest brunette and hauled her back against him as he raised his gun and pointed at the pretty beefcake. “Guess I should make up for that wild shot earlier … huh?” He intoned with a snarl. He needed it to be slow because he needed them to think there was hope to save the dumb fucker. So as tempting as it was to hit him straight through that fucking pretty face, he put one shot in his abdomen and the other in his calf. Shoving the pretty blonde in his hands forward, causing her body to bounce off the vehicle in front of him, he ran for the side entrance to the house. 

Liana was so close to Jadon she thought she could almost reach out and grab him, but then the ground shifted beneath her feet. Before she knew what was happening she was pulled against someone and she let out a yelp, trying to claw her way out of his grasp once she realized this wasn’t someone she knew. She struggled as hard as she could, determined to break free and to lash out at this horrid person. Then two shots rang out, stunning her for a moment before she screamed. Her voice didn’t sound natural to her ears, almost as if it wasn’t really her screaming. She was still in shock when she was shoved against the car, hitting her head hard enough that she felt it bounce off of the panelling. She laid on the ground for a long moment before she was able to manage to pull herself up and start stumbling towards Jadon. “No! No, oh god, no.”

The confusion about Liana’s presence, the sight of his captor behind her, the panic of her getting hurt before he could say a single thing about what he’d thought a million times over in that cell… it all melted away with two ringing sounds and the hot pain searing through his body. In an attempt to keep Rory safe the second he’d seen the bastard, Jadon had put himself in front of her, but the action had made them both unsteady. The pain, at first, seemed like he’d moved too fast and hurt his old tired frame. The falling, at first, seemed like Rory collapsing and taking him down with her. At first. Then he heard Liana screaming, his gaze moving down in confusion to see the blood pooling steadily warm down his dingy clothes. Jadon pressed his palm to the first wound, unaware of the one to his leg as he pushed his other hand toward Rory. “Go. Go, run. Don’t look. Run, please.” His vision blurred, this time with the sting of tears. As he laid on the ground his head rolled back over toward Liana, head thumping, everything somehow unbearably loud and yet muffled. It seemed like too much of an effort to speak, to try and see if Rory had run, if Liana was okay. The truth was he couldn’t bear the thought that the second bang had been for her, couldn’t open his eyes and see her dead. All of this time, repetitiously playing every turn from the ride to this place in his head like he could escape and get home, every little mental speech, hours of time had gone by and he’d realized he was holding out more hope than he’d realized. Now it all felt like too much for Jadon, his hand slipped from the wound, his blood soaked clothes no damper for it and he felt the last ounce of will go with it.

Rory felt a shift in how Jadon was supporting her; and she hesitantly opened her eyes. Her first thought was that their captor had learned of their escape and caught up with them; and her first thought unfortunately happened to be correct. The next thing she knew, it seemed as if Jadon lost his grip on her; and she stumbled forward, catching herself just enough not to face-plant. Once she caught her balance, her attention shifted towards Jadon; and her eyes went wide as she registered the words on his lips and the reason he’d lost his grip. He was bleeding. He’d been shot. She brought a shaky hand to her mouth as she stumbled backwards in shock, this time unable to catch herself as she bumped into the wall behind her, ultimately sinking down against it, her gaze never once leaving the sight of Jadon’s bloody body. Her chest ached; and her heart felt as if it was beating a mile a minute. The ground and wall felt as if they were swaying beneath her as black spots began to dance across her already blurred vision. But how she felt was the last thing on her mind. All she could think about right now was that she couldn’t lose Jadon. The two of them had been through so much together during their time in that basement; and he’d become quite important to her. He couldn’t die. She needed him to be okay. One of them had to be okay. 

The sound of two gunshots came just as Kit’s eyes adjusted to the light outside. Sight bleary, he saw Jadon go down, Rory with him as he’d been supporting her, and their captor running. And he was pissed. He remembered screaming at trees with Elle, and right now he would scream at them that he’d been afraid for too long because of this man, because of Armand. Before he could think, he’d let go of Aramis’s hand, sprinting as fast as he could towards the man. He’d always been one of the faster members of his soccer team, and with his body full of adrenaline, he intercepted this villain of theirs, throwing himself at the man and tackling him to the ground. Kit scrambled to get the gun away from the man, not so he could shoot him, but so that he could safely wail on him without getting his brains blown out. “What the fuck is wrong with you, shooting innocent people? Haven’t...” Punch to the left jaw. “...you...” Whack. “...done...” Bam. “...enough to us?” 

Our Villain: He liked to think he was prepared but honestly the pretty little subby boy coming at him full body was unexpected. He hit the gravel of the driveway so hard it briefly knocked the air from his lungs and left him momentarily stunned. He spun in the younger man’s grip and nailed him in the abdomen with one fist, as hard as he could before aiming a little lower with the second blow. His head felt like it was reeling but fight adrenaline was now coursing. He was a dirty fighter, always had been, and wasn’t holding back. Still, Kit’s fists were catching him hard. 

At the sound of gunshots firing, Aramis ducked and tried to yank Kit down with him. But his boyfriend had other plans. In a flash, the sub was sprinting away, heading straight toward the son of bitch who’d caused so much turmoil.

“KIT!” Aramis screamed, taking off behind his boyfriend. Kit often complained about him taking too many risks with his own life and now look - the sub was running headfirst into a killer. 

He was slower than Kit and by the time he’d gotten to his boyfriend’s side, the two had already been exchanging blows. He put his hands under the sub’s arms and drug him off the son of a bitch on the ground, then moved between them. “We’ve got to talk about your decision making,” Aramis replied, exasperated. The talk would have to wait until later.

Aramis leaned down to the asshole laid out on the ground and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “You never should’ve touched him you fucking prick,” he growled. “What did you think I was going to do? Let you and Armand take him?”

Kit grunted when he felt the blows to his abdomen, and was about to go for another hit when he felt someone yanking him up by the arms, causing him initially to fight this person too until he realized who it was. Aramis. “My decision making?! He shot Jadon! He shot Adelaide!” As if that explained his actions. He kicked at the man on the ground before Aramis placed himself between them. Kit reached out for Aramis’s arm, trying to pull him back too. Aramis, frankly, was a fair bit stronger than Kit, so not as easy to move. “I told you,” he said to his captor. “I told you I was going to be your mistake. And you laughed.” Kit stayed close to Aramis, hand still on his arm. They could surely distract this guy until the security team could take him away, right?

Liana’s head pounded, but that pain seemed dull compared to what she found when she reached Jadon. She grabbed for him, desperately wishing she could have stopped what happened. What if she had fought harder? What if she had fought less? Could she have stopped it somehow? “No- No Jadon. You don’t get to die. Don’t- I need you here. Please.” Tears streamed down her face and she reached for the wound on his abdomen, trying to stop the blood. Then she remembered that Julia was there in part because of her skills in the medical field. “Help! Please help!” She screamed the words, hoping that some higher power might hear and take pity on them.

Julie didn't really know what would happen, but she absolutely didn't expect this --Liana being yanked away just feet in front of her, and then seeing Jadon shot twice and her screams mixed in the air with those of others. Everything kind of blurred after that. She ran without thinking much of it, falling to the ground so hard and fast beside him that she scraped the skin of her bare knees- but the sting of broken skin was nothing compared to everything else. Liana screaming at her as well kind of blurred into the background as she looked at the blood pooling out of the man with whom she'd grown close to and she swallowed hard, hands shaking as she moved her fingers to immediately press down against his abdomen. "J-Jadon, come on Don't. You...--fight." she practically whimpered, hating how his blood oozed out between her fingers and she swallowed hard, trying to focus. "Focus okay? Please?" She asked before she looked to Liana, "His leg. Help me take his shirt off or...or something. We need to rip half for his stomach, half for his leg. Now!" 

Liana knew they had to stop the bleeding somehow, so when Julia started giving her instructions she didn’t hesitate. She pulled her overshirt off since she had a tank top on underneath and ripped it in half as best as she could manage before handing over one half to Julia and using the other half to tie around his leg. She placed it above the gunshot and tied, wincing at how hard she knotted it. “Like that?”

Julia was pretty sure she wasn’t going to get the sight of Jadon’s blood staining her hands out of her mind anytime soon, but she tried her best not to think about it and she glanced back, seeing just how tight the material was nodded. “Y-Yeah. Yeah. Good. Perfect. I left my bag in the car….it has some emergency stuff. It..” she swallowed, taking the material offered to hold it tightly down against his abdomen, “It can help til we get him to a hospital.” With one hand pressing hard to his side, she used the other to reach up, gently jostling his face, keep him awake, “Hey. Jadon, open your eyes, look at me. Come on. Please.”

Everything after she stumbled back and slid down the wall was a complete blur for Rory. She struggled to register anything that was happening around her. The pain in her chest begun to intensify, almost to the point she felt like it was getting harder to breathe thanks to how her heart was racing. And the black spots dancing across her vision were growing bigger and bigger as she fought, and ultimately failed, to stay awake. She thought she felt someone trip over her outstretched legs; but as she was teetering on the edge of unconsciousness at that point, she had no idea if she’d simply imagined it.  

Our Villain: He was still trying to throw punches, lost in a heat of rage when the subject to them (who was giving back as well) was pulled off. Dragging in deep breaths, he managed to stumble to his feet. That’s it. He needed to get the fuck out of here. No more pussy-footing around. He stumbled past the group and broke into a run. Blood dripped into his eyes but he knew the property well. He knew where he was going. At least he thought he did. Then he was on the ground again. Glancing back, he noted little miss complaint on the ground. Had the little bitch tripped him? Fucking hell. He had no further thoughts about her though as he was suddenly staring down the barrel of a gun. His gaze flicked up and straight into the eyes of a professional. Fuck. Mercenaries. Like recognized like and he slumped to the ground again. Fuck.

When Liana heard Julia’s words she nodded and looked around, yelling when she saw a member of the security team running towards them. She told him where to find the bag full of the supplies and then turned back to Jadon. She was so close to having him back and the thought that he could still be taken from her infuriated her. Even if he changed his mind about her after all he went through, she needed him to be around and alive. She would rather see him well and move on from her than the alternative. In her mind she bargained with whatever gods might be listening, begging them to let him live. She would do anything if they would just let him live. “Please… Please Jadon? I can’t lose you. Not like this. Please.” She could stop herself from leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was a quick, maybe selfish, move but she needed him to know she was there for him.

Following the sound of gunshots, the security team quickly made their way to the sound. 

Marco took the lead, arriving to the scene just in time to shove the barrel of his gun into the kidnapper’s face, forcing him to stay down on the ground. The traitor and Kit were just behind him, clinging to each other as if one of them would be stolen away again.

Two other members of his team began to assist Jadon who lay injured on the ground, practically having to peel the submissive Liana away from him to get him help. His team saw that Rory was cared for as well and taken immediately to a hospital right behind Jadon. Julia flitted between patients, trying to stem Jadon’s bleeding while also tending to the weak and woozy submissive. Christ, this fucker had done a number to these people.

“Alright, you son of a bitch,” Marco started, nodding for another member of his team to cuff the kidnapper. His gun stayed trained on the man on the ground; no way this asshole would be getting away after all of the trouble he’d caused. “How about I lock you up in my dungeon, find out a little more about you, yeah?” 

Once the kidnapper was cuffed and hauled to his feet, Marco put his gun away and began leading him away to one of the vans. There were some questions Kat and the other heads of houses would have for him, and after that, Marco already knew he had carte blanche over this shithead’s fate. He’d definitely be getting a taste of his own medicine.

[redsamuraiii]

Ultraman Fan Fic

An excerpt from a chapter of my fan fic draft novel which I’ve been writing since June during my spare time, bringing the lovable Ultraman characters from 1966 to 2020.

Chapter 3 Present Day Kyoto, Japan

It is a cold December night in Kyoto, the ancient capital of Japan. The temple gardens are gently illuminated, the low light spinning a mysterious yarn across the silhouetted pines and chimerical bamboo groves. Just a few minutes away, the entertainment district of Gion is bustling with the energy of excitable tourists, drunken businessmen and attentive geisha. But here, up a narrow, sloping road on the eastern edge of the city, Shin Hayata have found stillness. He looks at the fallen leaves around him, thinking that a week from now, the branches of those tress will be bare and a month later, perhaps cloaked in white snow.

As he got lost in his thoughts to the night of the crash which he somehow survived, someone called out to him in a distant. A feminine voice calling out his name.

“Hayata…! Hayata!”

It’s his partner, Akiko Fuji, of the Science Patrol Division (SPD). Dressed in her orange suit uniform that is hugging her slim figure, wearing a white helmet covering her shoulder length wavy hair, with her youthful face visible through the transparent visor and her sparkling eyes reflecting her spirited nature, gazing his.

“HAYATA! I’ve been calling your name a dozen times!”

Hayata blushed, feeling embarrassed that he was caught off guard staring into nothingness while everyone around him are busy enjoying the festivities, talking, eating, drinking and laughing.

“You MUST try this shrimp tempura! It’s the best I’ve ever eaten since Nagasaki! It’s so warm and crispy! Everything about it is just about right! Oh! And don’t make me start on how deliciously spicy the sauce is!”

Hayata smiled, looking at her. That’s Fuji, for you. Always lively and full of spirits when it comes to food. He gazed at the small basket of tempura she was holding in one hand and the sauce cup in the other. He lifted his visor to smell the sweet aroma before grasping his hands on one of the tempura and gently sip it in the sauce before savoring it. And true enough, his facial expression betrays him.

“SEE! I TOLD YOU!”

She exclaimed excitedly like a five year old enjoying her first candy bar as Hayata watched and chuckled.

“You do have a knack for good food, Fuji! How in the world do you know there are such delights around here?”

She stopped eating halfway as if thinking about it.

“It’s my nose, you see! They can smell it all the way from Tokyo!”

Hayata had to laugh at that as he takes another bite.

“It’s a pity, the others are not here!”

She said as she continue munching the tempura and licking her fingers.

“If they were, I’d imagined Ide and Arashi will be squabbling over it instead of eating it.”

This time it was Fuji who laughed out loud, imagining her team members squabbling over shrimp tempura.

“Captain Muramatsu will probably steal it from them quietly while they’re squabbling over it.”

She said, laughing as she wipes away a sauce stuck on her right lips.

Suddenly, they stopped laughing as their voices were drowned by the noises surrounding them.

Fuji changed her tone of her voice as she glanced at Hayata with more seriousness now.

“Are you, okay?”

Hayata raised his eyebrows wondering where did that come from and smiled reassuringly at her.

“Never been better!”

“Oh, come on, Hayata! I saw your looks earlier, it’s like you’re caught somewhere in time!”

Hayata nodded not denying it as he continue looking around him at the people enjoying the festival.

“Just thinking what happened here five years ago and how fast we got over it.”

Fuji followed his gaze to the people around them.

“I guess it’s in our nature to be able to adapt.”

They leaned their backs against their parked patrol car as they continued eating tempura.

“You still think about that night?”

She inquired.

“Sometimes. Wondering why it happened. You?”

“I’m past wondering why it happened. I’m just wondering what will happen next.”

Hayata nodded as he considers her statement. Ever since Baltan appeared, several other aliens started appearing as well. It is not clear if Baltan is the one to lead them here or Baltan’s discovery of Earth brought the attention of these other extra-terresterial creatures here. One thing for certain, they will never be short of visitors and even though many seems to be adjusting well to this new life of normalcy, Hayata, still feels uncomfortable living in this new era, knowing fully well there are extra-terresterial beings living among them and not knowing whether they are harmless or dangerous, further adds up to his anxieties.

Baltan was last spotted at Lake Biwa, just north of Kyoto in Shiga Prefecture and recently there are rumors of its sightings in the lake. So the Captain has dispatched Hayata and Fuji to investigate and report any discoveries to determine if the rest of the team are needed to assist as they are constantly on alert for any other alien incursion elsewhere across the country. It is for this reason that the SPD has their own VTOL and STOL jets for fast travels but the weather forecast of an impending winter blizzard prompts Hayata and Fuji to travel on their six-seater all-weather-all-terrain patrol jeep instead.

Part of Hayata misses flying but part of him is relieved that he has an excuse not to fly as deep down he is still traumatized by that crash where he was certain that he would died. The darkness of the night illuminated by the explosion of his right wing and his inability to eject from his jet due to some technical issue as it plummeted down to the dark ocean beneath the colossal creature hovering over him like a demonic creature from a child’s nightmare. Again, his thoughts was disrupted by the jeep’s radio buzzing, indicating an incoming transmission from headquarters. Few seconds later, the gentle sound of Captain Muramatsu can be heard.

“Hayata. Fuji. Are you there?”

“I’ll get it.”

Fuji said as she shoved the tempura and sauce to Hayata who is struggling with his hands full.

“Yes, Captain. Fuji here.”

“Ah, Fuji. I’m afraid we have a new case developing.”

Fuji exchanged knowing looks with Hayata at this as he placed the food on the hood of the car and brushes off his hands to go closer to Fuji.

“Captain, Hayata here. What’s happening?”

“Hayata. It seems that there are reports of a Yuki Onna, just north of your current location.”

Fuji seems perplexed, not by the mere fact of a Yokai from a Japanese folklore actually coming to life but the question as to what does it got to do with the SPD? It seems of late that they’ve been investigating more paranormal cases than those of extra-terrestrials beings. Even the number of alien attacks have been decreasing, which makes the people more comfortable and complacent. People no longer regard the SPD with much seriousness like they used to during the early years of alien incursions but treat them as some “ghost hunting” team that always get called upon every time something unexplained comes up that the local enforcement are not willing to spend their time and manpower on, much less, the military. Not that she’s complaining but still. Judging by the looks of Hayata, she could tell he’s pretty much thinking along the same line as her as he listen intently to the Captain’s orders.

“It’s at Kunizakai Kogen Snow Park. It’s a small ski hill located in Takashima City in the northern area of Shiga Prefecture, just north-west of Kyoto, across Lake Biwa.”

Hayata took out his tablet to study the map and get a bearing of their current location as Fuji looks on curiously at his side. He looks at his digital watch making a mental calculation of their journey.

“80km. About an hour drive from here or so. Right.”

“Hm. Since you’re both are near, I’m sending you two. It could be another false alarm but it could also have a connection with Baltan that disappeared at Lake Biwa five years ago. Could be coincidental or could be linked, which is why I want you to investigate it immediately. Report back if you discover any anomalies. Ide and Arashi are on stand-by if you need assistance.”

“Roger that, Captain.”

“Hm. Take care. Muramatsu out.”

“Well, there it is.”

“Hayata, look! It’s snowing!”

“Already? I didn’t expect a snow till three weeks from now at least.”

“Oh, it’s so beautiful!”

Fuji’s pure heart never fails to amaze and amuse him.

“We just learned about a Yuki Onna, and you’re more fascinated by snow?”

“Don’t make me throw a snowball at you, Hayata!”

Hayata chuckled as he gets into the driver’s seat as Fuji takes the remaining tempura left behind on the car hood with her. She stood at the car door left ajar for a minute as she marvels at the snowflakes falling down gracefully from the white sky. She takes one last breath of fresh air as she steps into the car to sit beside Hayata, who ignites the car’s engine and hits the pedal to move off through the crowded streets of Gion.

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 5 - The Interview

It was Monday morning and Varian stood outside on the university grounds waiting. Hiro had told him that he was to meet with the school’s headmaster today. He needed to speak to this Professor Granville about obtaining supplies to build a new portal machine to send him home. 

Varian had never met a dean of a university before. He wanted to look his best to impress such an important person. He wore the white linen shirt he had bought on Saturday and a pair of the khaki dress pants, both pressed and ironed the night before, along with his Sapporian boots, polished and shined to match the black belt he wore. On his head, he still wore his customary goggles but he made sure to polish them as well. 

Wasabi had tried to comb and fix his hair this morning, but it was already back to its usual unkempt state. It hadn’t even stayed in place for twenty minutes before his swept back bangs started falling and the cowlick on top of his head started to spring back up despite the use of styling gel, much to Wasabi’s frustration. However, there was no time to fool with it any more as Wasabi had to leave early to take Ruddiger to the vet. 

Varian deeply appreciated the older teen’s assistance. For the duration of his stay, Wasabi had gone out of his way to help Varian and make him feel at home. Not asking for anything in return, nor walking back on any promises (no matter how much the existence of Ruddiger annoyed him), and going above and beyond anything a regular person from Varian’s world would do. He was far different from any other fair-weather ‘friend’ Varian previously had. 

They had spent the previous day hanging out together at the dormitory; with Wasabi teaching Varian various things about this new world and helping him and Ruddiger get situated. 

They set up the cage for Ruddiger to sleep in. There wasn't much room in the apartment for such a large kennel so they had to tuck it up under the kitchen table. Placing the pet bed and bowls of food and water inside. Ruddiger hated it. He much preferred the fake log that Varian wedged into the corner above the sofa; curling up there whenever possible.   

As for said sofa, Wasabi took the new sheets and blankets he’d bought and fixed them up into a proper bed. With the cushions tucked tightly into a fitted sheet and the new pillow fluffed up and placed at one end. 

Next to the couch they put up the small chest of drawers and organized Varian's new things. Helping him to set up his own little space inside the small apartment.

He also helped Varian set up his new phone. Teaching him how to make calls, text, and the myriad of secondary functions the device could perform. But the most impressive thing about the new phone was something called the internet. It was a worldwide information and communication exchange system. All of human kind’s accumulated knowledge, history, and personal banalities was a mere click away. 

Varian started off reading about the history of quantum physics on an online encyclopedia, which somehow led to him arguing with a person in someplace called Indiana over the exact meaning of the pentagram symbol on something called a public forum, and finally ending up watching a bunch of moving pictures, called video, of seals playing in the Antarctic. All in less than an hour. 

One could get lost in the sea of words, images, and sounds that this new invention had to offer. Varian could only marvel at just how smart and well educated the people of this world must be with such wells of information so easily accessible to the public at large. In his world, all they had were books and you could only get those that happened to be shipped to whatever area you lived in. Corona itself only had one bookstore, located on the island capital, if Varian wanted new reading material he either had to make a trip into town or hope that some of the traveling merchants had any on hand they were willing to part with. 

Thus the day had passed until Wasabi had to leave to go to work. In his absence, Varian did a bunch of chores. He took Ruddiger for a walk, cleaned up the washroom, and tried to cook dinner. 

He had wanted to surprise Wasabi with a good meal as a way of thank you. Unfortunately the little makeshift kitchen wasn't well stocked. Varian had very little to work with and some of the stuff on hand was unfamiliar to him. 

Worse, the only thing to cook with was the microwave and toaster. Wasabi had shown him how such appliances worked but he hadn't had much practice with them. 

Ultimately he had decided on fixing some oatmeal. That was easy enough and Wasabi had everything to cook it with. He poured the milk and oatmeal into a pot and placed it in the microwave and set the timer for thirty minutes. He then cut up some new tropical yellow fruit called bananas to go in it. Ruddiger loved the rare treat and Varian had to cut him his own banana slices so as to keep the animal from stealing their supper. 

Varian also tried out the toaster. The pieces of bread turned out a little darker than he had expected but all in all he was happy with his first attempt. He buttered them up and started on a second batch. 

He was just hunting down a sweetener to use in the oatmeal when Wasabi came home. 

The tall man nearly cried with joy when he spotted the newly cleaned bathroom.

"You … you cleaned? Like, you scrubbed down the shower and the sink and everything! And I didn't even have to ask you!?" 

"Well yeah. If I'm going to be staying here awhile I might as well do my part in maintaining the place" Varian said matter-of-factly, not understanding what the big deal was. 

"You don't get it. I've never had a roommate who would help out with chores. Trying to get those guys to even just fold laundry every once in a while was like pulling teeth. And I've gone through a lot of roommates in the past two years." Wasabi said with a weary tone at the end, as if recalling some of those failed partnerships. He then switched back to the present. "Thank you, man." He said with an appreciative smile. 

Varian was about to tell him that he was welcome, but then the microwave exploded. 

Sparks were flying from the sides and oatmeal came gushing out from the front. The interior light was flickering on and off and smoke poured out the back. 

Wasabi gave a little scream and ran past Varian to unplug the device before it caught on fire. 

Apparently one wasn't supposed to put metal into a microwave. Which Varian personally considered as a design flaw, but he kept this opinion to himself and instead profusely apologized. He promised to replace the machine but Wasabi only sighed and told him not to worry about it. 

All was not lost though as Wasabi ordered Chinese take out for dinner instead. Varian had to admit that the bowls of rice, vegetables, and meats covered in various sauces were far more substantial than the oatmeal he had had originally planned. In particular he enjoyed the pork dumplings. They reminded him of the pierogi he would make back home but with a thinner pasta shell instead of the thicker breading he used. 

Varian recalled yesterday's events and had only just resolved to make it up to Wasabi somehow, when he spotted Hiro walking towards him. 

He was talking to an older woman with short dark brown hair and piercing brown eyes. She was smartly dressed in a grey business suit and carried with her a folder and pen. 

Trailing behind the two of them, Baymax wobbled along. Not being able to keep up with his stubby legs. 

"He's really smart; He just doesn't understand our world fully. But, he can learn things real quick." Varian overheard Hiro say. He figured they were talking about him, and that the lady must be Professor Granville, but the older woman said nothing in response nor gave any indication that she was impressed by what Hiro was saying. 

"Oh there he is." Hiro pointed out to her. He waved at Varian and excitedly broke into a jog to meet him first. 

"Hey! Varian, this is Professor Granville. Professor Granville, this is Varian." Hiro introduced them as the woman came up to meet them.

Professor Granville did not hurry, she remained calm and composed as she walked over to join the two boys. She appeared almost regal like, to Varian; tall, aloof, and fully in charge. However, despite this cold demeanor, her face did break into a warm smile when she met Varian's gaze. 

"Ah, the boy who built the portal. Hiro has told me all about you. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." 

Her voice, while not unkind, did hold an air of authority to it. A tone that very much conveyed that this was her domain and that Varian was merely a guest in it. Like a queen meeting one of her newest subjects. 

Varian didn't know whether to wave hello, shake hands, or give a bow to the woman. Not that she gave him much choice. 

No sooner did he squeak out a faint 'hi' did she sail past him and opened one of the large double doors. 

"If you'll kindly follow me, we'll go ahead and begin your interview." She said while holding the door open for him. 

"Interview?" Varian echo. 

"Yes. All prospective students must complete a college interview if they are to attend SFIT." She said matter-of-factly. 

Varian looked at Hiro in confusion. He thought he was here to talk about gaining supplies for his experiments, not to become a student. Hiro however only gave him a shrug in reply. So Varian moved to follow the woman. 

"I'll meet you out here when you're done." Hiro said to him as he walked into the darkened hallway and Professor Granville closed the door behind her.

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

"Right this way." Professor Granville led her newest charge into an empty classroom. It was a spacious lecture hall with a desk at one end and upon the blackboard were mathematical equations written up. All of the staff had returned a week early from spring break to prepare for the coming summer semester and Granville had planned on continuing setting up for her next class after she was done admitting the new student. 

Hiro had explained the whole situation to her, about the portals and the kid from another world who had built them, and for her part she figured it best to go ahead and enroll him. That way he could have access to any materials he needed to continue with his experiments, a place to stay during that time, and more importantly she could help forge for him any legal documents that he would undoubtedly need to get by. Not to mention that if the boy could indeed deliver on his portals then it would be a great boon for the school and its reputation. 

"Have a seat please." She indicated for him to sit down in a chair that she had pulled up to the desk. He did so, and she sat on the other side and opened her folder.

“Now first I’ll need your full name.” She instructed as she clicked her pen and made ready to fill out the application form for him.  

“Varian.” The boy replied,“ uh, V-A-R-I-A-N”

She wrote the name he had spelled out down and waited for him to continue, only no other names were forthcoming. She looked up and asked,“And your last name?”

“I haven’t got one.”

“They don’t have last names where you come from?” She asked. The boy was from another world so who knew what other customs they had. 

“Oh no, there are people with last names.” He clarified. “It’s just I’m the only Varian in my village so there was never any need for one. If anyone ever referred to me by anything else it was usually either, you know, ‘Here’s Varian the alchemist’  or ‘There goes Quirin’s son.’” He paused briefly before explaining further, “Uh, Quirin’s my dad’s name.” 

“And how do you spell that?” 

“Q-U-I-R-I-N” He replied while the professor went back to writing. When done she looked back up and continued her line of questioning.

“Very well Mr. Quirinson, now I’ll need a former residency to put on your application. Mr. Hamada has already mentioned that your country of origin does not exist in our world, but I’ll need an equivalency to put on your official documents.” She took a globe that was sitting upon her desk and handed it to Varian. “Why don’t you see if you can find anything familiar and maybe we can glean a substitute from that.” 

Varian scanned the globe, gazing over the continent of Europe; his finger following its northern coastline on the map. Everything was jumbled up. Countries were missing, new ones he had never heard of before in their places, what kingdoms he did recognize had different borders to what he had previously known. Even the geography was different, with rivers, lakes, and mountain ranges appearing in different places. Everything was slightly off. As if someone had taken a map from his world and then proceeded to move everything slightly to the left. 

Finally, in his confusion, he found something. A small peninsula jutting out into the Baltic Sea, and next to it were the words The Curonian Spit. It didn't look exactly like his Corona and it was spelled differently, but it was a peninsula, it was on the northern sea, and it was in the general vicinity, northeast of France.  

"Uh, here." He said while pointing to his find. Professor Granville peered over the desk to see the tiny country his index finger nearly covered. 

"Kaliningrad Oblast." She read, curiously, before sitting back down and turning to her computer. She looked up the country in question. "Says here Kaliningrad was a former part of Germany and is now a territory of Russia. I don't suppose you speak either Russian or German do you?" 

"I speak both actually." Normally Varian would brag about just how many languages he did know, but for right now he was just confused. He still didn't fully understand why this barrage of questions was important. 

"Excellent!" The professor exclaimed. "We'll get a passport and a student visa for you in no time. Now I'll just need your date of birth." 

"March the 24th." 

"And the year." 

"1639." 

Professor Granville paused, and slowly looked up from the form she was filling out. 

"1639? As in 1639, A.D.?" She asked in disbelief. 

Varian nodded his head. 

"You are aware that it is currently the year 2015 in this world, right?" She continued. 

Varian could only stare blankly back at her and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Maybe our worlds have different calendars?" He offered up helpfully. 

"Must be." Granville agreed quietly. There was no way a child from the mid 1600s could possibly have invented an interdimensional portal, she thought. Out loud though she only asked. "How old are you, Mr. Quirinson?" 

"Sixteen." 

She wrote 03/24/1999 onto the form. "Now I'll need the name of the last school you attended and we'll be done with the formalities." 

"I..I've never been to school before." He stuttered, suddenly self-conscious. This was where he'd be rejected he knew. Poor farm boys didn't get fancy educations. She undoubtedly would decline to admit him and he'll be left scrambling for another means of rebuilding a machine to get home with.

"You've never been to school?" She asked, horrified. 

Varian squirmed in his seat. "Well you see," he explained, desperately trying to think of some way to salvage the situation, "there is a small school in the capital, but that's a good day's trip and Dad needed me to help around the far- uh, estate. Besides, I already knew how to read and write by the time I was old enough to go." He gave a half smile at the end, hoping his advanced reading skills would be enough to impress her. 

"And how did you manage to learn advanced physics and engineering?" She asked in disbelief. 

"Well, I read books, and studied the masters, like Copernicus, and did a lot of experimentation on my own. A lot of trial and error." He said this last bit dryly, personally recalling some of his past failures. 

"Sooo you're completely self-taught then?" She asked, still trying to make sense of this strange boy. 

Varian nodded his head. 

"Well, why don't we just put home-schooled on the application." She suddenly suggested with a wide smile and Varian internally sighed with relief with the knowledge that his past wasn't going to be held against him. 

"Now for some personal questions. Here at the San Fransokyo Institute of Technology, we pride ourselves on admitting the most dedicated and accomplished of students." Professor Granville proudly proclaimed. "Tell me what are some of your biggest accomplishments in the field of science?" 

"Uh…." Varian's brain froze. He had no real accomplishments. Everything he built either blew up, broke down, or worked in a way he hadn't originally intended.

"Come, come, no need to be shy." Granville encouraged. 

"Ummm…" 

The professor looked at him expectedly and Varian heard his heart pounding in his ears as his mind raced. 

"I invented a bath bomb!" He blurted out in haste. 

Professor Granville blinked back at him in surprise. "Well that wasn't what I was expecting," she said slowly,"but tell me about this 'bath bomb'." 

Varian wanted to sink into the ground. How stupid could he be? This world had everyday technology that was so far more advanced compared to Conora's that of course she wasn't going to be impressed by his makeshift cleaning supplies. But he had already said it out loud, might as well commit. 

"It's a small alchemical ball full of soap and hydrogen. So that when you throw it into a tub and ignite a flame underneath, it combines with the surrounding air to create condensation and voilà, instant bath." 

"Interesting," the woman said, and she did genuinely appear to be so as she adjusted her stance and leaned in a little with her arms upon the desk and hands clasped together. "And tell me what was the inspiration for this 'immediate bath'." 

"Well, umm, there isn't any running water in Corona and sometimes carrying water from the well or the river is a pain." Varian explained, then reflexively, under his breath and through gritted teeth, he added, "Or sometimes you might find yourself in a position where you can't bathe for over a year." 

He hadn't meant for this last part to be heard but Granville commented on it anyways. 

"You've been without running water for over a year?" She asked, concerned. 

"Oh, no. We've never had running water. It doesn't exist in our world." Varian corrected, hoping to distract from his previous comment. This however was not the correct thing to say as Professor Granville only furrowed her brow even further. 

For Granville's part, she was just simply bewildered and more than a little worried. When Hiro had first told her of the boy from another world, she had assumed he came from one similar to their own, or perhaps one that was even more advanced. She'd have never in a million years expected that the inventor of a portal device was from a world stuck before the pre-industrial era. Yet it all added up to appear that way; 17th century birthday, no running water, his biggest academic influence was Copernicus for crying out loud. How ever was the boy supposed to keep up with modern college level studies? And yet where else was he to go? 

So she pressed forward. Ignoring the growing doubt building in the back of her mind. 

"Where do you see yourself in five years?" She asked. 

She was met with only a blank stare from the young man sitting across from her. 

"For example, do you have any career aspirations or personal goals you would like to achieve?" She clarified. 

"Well, I'd like to go home and free my dad." The young boy said slowly. "I haven't given much thought to anything else?" 

"Free?" Granville asked, confused. 

"I mean, see again, obviously." Varian hastily rectified. But Granville was growing ever more concerned, the boy was hiding something. 

"Well I can understand why that would be a pressing matter to you, but surely you've given some thought to the future; some idea of where you might wind up." She encouraged him. 

"Jail?" The boy questioningly threw out. He looked wide eyed now, confused and lost as to what she meant and looking for an answer that clearly alluded him. 

"And why would you say that, Mr. Quirinson?" She pressed.

"Cause that's where I've been for the past year." The boy admitted. He was growing agitated and impatient. He didn't understand the point behind any of this and was slowly getting fed up with the woman's prying questions. Not the least of which because they made him feel self-conscious. 

"I see," the professor said as she began to piece together the clues. Granville had spent several years working in both academics and social services. She knew the signs of a 'problem' child when she saw it. Typically, young kids with unchallenged intellect, accompanied by perhaps a broken home life, would sometimes lash out or make trouble for themselves in an effort to receive attention. The boy's father was missing in some way and he grew up in an unstimulating environment that didn't encourage his creative genius. 

"And because of a mistake or two you don't see yourself rising up to doing anything else." she cajoled; sometimes a push could help inspire the aforementioned child to challenge himself. 

"No. Because they typically don't let you back out after you've committed high treason." He answered back bitterly. Headmaster or no, who did this woman think she was to make such sweeping judgements? He was properly angry now and no longer cared about making a good impression nor about keeping his past hidden. 

He quickly stood up and leaned over the desk to glower at her. "Look, I came here to get help not to be grilled about my past. If you're not interested in giving me the supplies I need then I'll find some other way to get them. But I am not giving up on my father." He angrily pounded his fist on to the desk to emphasize his point. 

Then almost immediately his demeanor changed when he looked back up to see the blackboard behind the professor. "Also the answer to that equation should be 2.6 not 4.6. Sorry that's been bugging me for the past ten minutes." He apologetically stammered in exasperation. 

Professor Granville turned and looked back at the offending equation in question. Glad for a momentary distraction from the growing tension in the room. 

The boy's mood swings were bewilderingly quick and the 'treason' comment had not been something she had been expecting. If he really was from the 17th century then 'treason' could mean anything, to being locked away for scientific study or for simply knowing the wrong people. Given his comments about his father needing 'freeing' she suspected the latter. 

The aforementioned equation was a long physics question with an answer provided, in order to serve as an example to the class. It was far too long to solve in one's head so she had to pull out a calculator and resubmit the numbers into the machine to check the boy's calculations. And to her surprise he was right. She had accidentally written the wrong number up on the board. 

"That...is correct." She replied, double checking the calculator she held in her hand. "You figured out this whole equation in your head in less than ten minutes?" She asked in disbelief. Granville had worked with many gifted students throughout her career, but scarcely any could perform such advanced mathematical problem solving in such record time without the aid of any tools; not even basic pen and paper. And this was made all the more impressive by the fact the child lacked a high school education or even the passing knowledge of more modern mathematical advancements, like those of Einstein. 

"How else would you do it?" Varian replied, not knowing any other way himself.

"A calculator," She responded, holding the device into the air. 

"Wait. You have a machine that does math!?" The boy exclaimed in equal parts disbelief and excitement. 

She nodded and handed the calculator to him. Which he eagerly snatched up, looked at it longingly, and then cradled the device to his cheek while proclaiming, "It's so beautiful," in the exaggerated manner kids often do. He then began to fiddle with the machine, testing out its various functions like a child that had just received a new video game for Christmas. 

"Where has this been all my life?" He excitedly laughed. This device would make checking his calculations ten times easier. 

Granville watched on, bewildered. Who was this child? How did someone from such a primitive world manage to invent such a scientific miracle? In all her 40 years she had never come across such a contradiction before. Just imagine what such a child could have achieved had he been born in a time and place that nurtured his natural talents. 

Then she shuddered as realization hit her. A short range teleportation device was his original intent, Hiro had told her, and Varian himself had mentioned prison and not being let out. And not just any prison, they weren't talking about juvie here, but a 1650s style dungeon no doubt. History wasn't her expertise, but Granville knew enough about that time period to know that he wouldn't have been fairly treated while within there. No telling what horrors the boy had faced in the past year or more. 

Her heart went out to him then and she could have just cried at the thought of this little teenaged boy huddled up in some dark dank stone room. She pushed the image out of her head and regained control of herself. Crying wouldn't help. But giving him the opportunities that had been denied to him thus far would. 

"Let's return to the interview shall we?" She said instead, slipping back into the role of professional administrator and taking her seat again. 

Varian looked up from the calculator he was playing with in confusion. He had assumed his previous outburst would disqualify him but Professor Granville gave him no time to question. 

"Now Hiro has informed me that you are currently staying on campus with Mr. Gari, how is that working out?" 

"Mr. Gari?" He echoed blankly. 

"I believe you and the rest of his friends refer to him as 'Wasabi'." she clarified. 

"Oh, yeah, he's great. Things are going fine." He replied, still confused. 

"Wonderful," the professor smiled back. "In that case we'll keep that arrangement for the upcoming semester." 

"Whatd'ya mean?" 

"I mean, Mr. Quirinson, welcome to SFIT." She said with a warm smile as she handed him a pre-typed acceptance letter that she had tucked inside the folder. 

Varian read the letter in bewilderment. He was being accepted into a university? Him? And not just any university, but one specifically for the study of science. He couldn't help but give a breathless laugh. He'd honestly never thought that he'd ever be given such a chance, especially after such a disastrous interview. But no, the woman at the desk seemed genuine in her approval. 

"Now if you'll just sign these forms you'll be granted a full four year scholarship, or until you finish, whichever comes first." She said as she slid the folder over to him and handed him her pen. 

He signed his name upon the dotted line as his stomach filled with giddy butterflies. It all hardly seemed real. His dad would never believe it. Oh how he wished he could run home, wrap him in a hug, and tell him right now. Surely something like this would make him so proud. 

He blinked back tears at that wishful thought and finished signing the other papers the professor handed to him. When done he looked back up at her and she said, "Good. Now because of your... unique, situation; there will be a few extra steps you'll have to complete before classes start next week. Which I'll talk to you about as I give you a tour of the facility."

With that she stood up and walked to the door and held it open, once again indicating for Varian to follow her.

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

Varian stood outside next to the physics building where he had first started the day, waiting for Hiro to join him. He leaned against the wall while sucking on a small lollipop the school’s nurse had given him. Professor Granville had given him a quick tour of the school, a folder full of important papers, and instructions for how to proceed with his education. The final stop was the medical office where she had left him with the nurse in order to attend to other business. 

Said nurse had given him the ‘vaccines’ that Wasabi had told him about; the near magical medicine that was supposed to prevent certain illnesses. The shots had stung a bit, but it was all over very quickly and the kind woman who administered the procedure gave him some colorful sticky bandages and let him pick his favorite flavor out of the bowl full of suckers sitting on her desk.     

He was just finishing off the last of the butterscotch flavored treat when Hiro finally found him. 

“Hey! There you are! How did it go?” He asked. 

“Well, she admitted me into the school but she said I had to do some stuff first before she could fully enroll me.” Varian replied.  

“Yeah, what kind of stuff?” 

“I have to take something called a ‘General Educational Development’ test and a ‘Scholastic Aptitude Test’. She gave me a study guide and was going to give me both tests on Friday.”

“Ah.. yeah, you wouldn’t have an eligible high school diploma here. But it’s fine. I took similar  tests in order to graduate early. They’re not that hard, the only thing that should trip you up is the history stuff, but we can all help you study for them.’ The young boy offered. 

Varian smiled back at him appreciatively. It was nice to know that he now had people in his life that he could depend upon for help.    

“So what else?” Hiro asked. 

“She also gave me an extended reading list. I don’t have to read every book on there in a week, thank goodness, but I’m to keep up with it for the rest of the school term so I can catch up on things that the rest of the students will already know. I also need to give her a ‘photograph’ of myself that she can put onto a passport and something called a ‘visa’.” Varian scratched the back of his head in confusion as he said this last bit. Apparently one needed lots of documents and forms in order to maneuver within this country's society. Granville had asked him all of those questions at the beginning of his interview precisely because she was going to help procure those official papers for him, or forge similar facsimiles that could do in a pinch. 

Hiro nodded along. “That makes sense. See it’s a good thing you met with her. Granville has connections that can help with things like that. Also she’s the only one who even thought of it to begin with.” He laughed. “Man, that would’ve been bad if someone like Chief Cruz found out you were here illegally. Anyways, you can take the ‘photograph’ using your new phone. I’ll help and show you how to email it to her. Wasabi set you up with an e-mail right?” 

Varian nodded yes. That was one of the functions of the internet that Wasabi showed him yesterday.  

“Great! I’ll also email you the stuff I found on Project Silent Sparrow. It’s the portal project that Krei Tech was working on.” 

So Hiro spent the rest of the day with him, with Baymax also tagging along, and together they helped Varian take his picture and send it to Professor Granville, gather up some of the books on the reading list from the library, and briefly went over the project files behind the portal that sent him here. 

After Hiro and Baymax had decided to go home, Varian made his way back to the dormitory. He couldn’t wait to tell Wasabi all that had happened. However, as soon as he opened the door he was met with the sight of Wasabi chasing Ruddiger around the apartment with a broom. Food, slimy shampoo, and various other items were strewn about the place and Wasabi was covered in soap bubbles while Ruddiger himself was sopping wet. Varian sighed and closed the door behind him. Looks like telling about his day would have to wait.

[weepylucifer]

RULES: answer 17 questions and tag 17 people you want to get to know better.

I was tagged by @q-card !!

NICKNAME: don’t have one, come give me a nickname

ZODIAC: aries

HEIGHT: 5′4″

HOGWARTS HOUSE: ravenclaw

LAST THING I GOOGLED: “Levi lost his whole squad meme”

SONG STUCK IN MY HEAD: Fighter by Christina Aguilera

FOLLOWING: 293 people!

FOLLOWERS: 1583

AMOUNT I SLEEP: I aim for 7 hours per night

LUCKY NUMBERS: I don’t like numbers...

DREAM JOB: professional author, Academia Person, leftist revolutionary, anything where I don’t have to do capitalism too hard

CURRENTLY WEARING: black pants and a blue starfleet academy t-shirt

FAVOURITE SONGS: Meet Me in the Woods by Lord Huron, pretty much everything by Hozier or Florence and the Machine, Atlantic City by Bruce Springsteen, and many more!

FAVOURITE INSTRUMENT: I’m gonna say guitar

RANDOM FACT ABOUT ME: I will not eat a tomato. Tomato sauce, yes, ketchup, yes, but not the thing in its purest form. Disgusting.

FAVOURITE AUTHORS: Terry Pratchett, Agatha Christie

FAVOURITE ANIMAL NOISES: cats purring. coziest sound

AESTHETIC: huge library, night time, the woods, dark colors, tacky band shirts, goth shit, art noveau, Gay

I tag: @cenedrariva @jtownraindancer @expectedbehavior @electricpentacle @shadowvalkyrie and anybody else who feels like it :)

[southeastasianists]

Lunchtime, 12 p.m. Hordes of office workers stream out of air-conditioned glass buildings in the heart of Singapore’s Central Business District toward Amoy Street Hawker Centre. There, they wait in snaking queues at rows of stalls, each operated by a hawker who often specialises in just one dish, such as char siew (Cantonese barbecued pork) or rojak (an assorted fruit and vegetable salad dish, doused with a sweet and spicy peanut sauce). The smell of spices, fried garlic, and caramelized meat mingles with the dark aroma of kopi tarik (sweet and rich pulled coffee), and the sounds are a melody of conversation, noodles being stirred, and hurried chops of the cleaver.

Singapore has often been described as a food paradise, and its hawker centres, of which there are more than 100, are the city-state’s most visible symbol of its highly democratic culinary scene. Tourists and visiting chefs head to the street markets to feast on Singaporean foods, whose multi-ethnic influences reflect the population: Peranakan Chinese, South Indian, and Malay. But with a plate of chicken rice costing around $3, hawker fare is a staple diet for a majority of Singaporeans—affordable, accessible, and delicious.

Despite this celebration of hawker food by both locals and visitors, beloved dishes are in danger of disappearing, threatening a crucial part of local culture and identity. Experienced hawkers are in their twilight years, and are retiring without passing their knowledge and skills to a successor.

Hawking first became a popular career option in the 1950s and 1960s, during Singapore’s post-war years, as it provided informal employment for residents during a time when jobs were scarce and the city was poor. By the end of the 1960s, roughly 24,000 hawkers, selling delicious and affordable street grub, were feeding a population of 1.7 million.

But the unregulated expansion of hawking led to hygiene and congestion issues. Hawkers roved open spaces and streets, selling home-cooked wares. The combination of diverse offerings—Javanese tempeh, Cantonese congees, Teochew porridges—that could be obtained instantly made them popular. But one such area, Ellenborough Market, which was called Teochew Market due to hawkers in the area, was razed by a fire in 1968, and food poisoning cases were common.

The government intervened, grouping hawkers in designated wet markets, or pasars in the Malay language. The open-air buildings, with individual stalls and designated sitting areas, became known as hawker centres. By the mid-1980s, the roughly 140 hawker centres across Singapore had become an institution. The number of hawkers continued to grow, as did their renown. In 2016, Chan Hon Meng’s soya chicken rice, which costs less than three dollars, earned him a Michelin star. But ask any Singaporean, and they’ll gladly debate which stall sells the best hokkien mee (wok fried prawn noodles) or laksa.

When Singapore’s hawker scene first developed, the city was in the process of rapidly transforming from a manufacturing hub to a well-functioning, cosmopolitan city. Decades of booming growth have since created millionaires (and inequality), an enviable skyline, and a pricey real estate market, making the continued existence of world-class food for three dollars a minor miracle. But the contradiction may not be able to last much longer.

One major threat to hawkers is competition from mall food courts—even though their offerings are less appealing. Unlike in hawker centres, where the food is typically cooked by self-employed stallholders, food court staff are hired, temporary, and given few training opportunities. But Singapore is a city so hot and humid that Lee Kuan Yew, the longtime prime minister, described air conditioning as the most important factor in the country’s growth. Shopping malls are curated for comfort and convenience—one can shop for groceries, enjoy an afternoon kopi, and find fusion burritos, all under one climate-controlled roof.

Yet the greatest challenge is that fewer cooks are taking up the hawker trade, which is an increasingly expensive proposition. The government owns the centres and auctions off leases for open spaces, with popular areas going for a premium. But after outbidding others, new hawkers have to compete with veterans, who pay less for their real estate—a legacy of the intervention that moved hawkers off the streets and into markets in the 1960s. Given the opportunities provided by Singapore’s economic growth, younger generations are also deterred by the long hours, physical demands, and less-than-desirable pay.

Consider the simple kaya toast found at Ah Seng Hainam coffee, an institution tucked away in Amoy Street Hawker Centre. The locale has been serving a Hainanese-style local breakfast since the 1950s, which typically includes kaya toast, two soft boiled eggs, and Nanyang coffee. After 60 years, owner Wong Ah Loke still insists on making breakfast the traditional way. He and his wife go to the stall at 4 a.m. every day to set up a charcoal fire, using the embers to warm up toast and heat the coffee percolators. While they no longer roast their coffee beans, they still make kaya from scratch, mixing coconut milk, eggs, sugar, and pandan leaf to make the distinctive green jam. Along with other touches, such as the charcoal embers, and the coffee style of mixing robusta beans with margarine, sugar, and maize, this is why customers keep coming to their stall.

If new owners take shortcuts, critical facets of hawker culture will be chipped away. KF Seetoh, founder of the hawker food guide Makansutra, laments that “new hawkers are hard to find, few and far between.” Already several dishes, such as Cantonese loh kai yik (stewed chicken wings) and the Hainanese yi buah (sweet glutinous rice cakes, with coconut fillings), are in danger of dying out. “More food will disappear as skills are lost,” says Seetoh, who notes that new hawkers want to sell what’s easy, focusing on quantity over quality. ”It’s about business today, not dedication and passion.”

The Singapore government is conscious of the threats to hawker culture. Earlier this year, Singapore’s prime minister, Lee Hsien Loong, announced a bid to make hawker centres places of protected cultural heritage under UNESCO. Other initiatives aim to educate the younger generation and attract them to the hawker trade. There are also calls for a new hawker centre management model that reduces capital costs for hawkers and is oriented around their role providing affordable meals to the public.

This phenomenon isn’t unique to Singapore—other cities, such as Hong Kong, are seeing street market culture disappear. But hawkers have long been symbols of resilience. Wong is optimistic that future generations will continue their traditions, even if they tweak their practices to adapt with the times. “As long as one does [one’s work] well and continues to persist,” he tells me, “traditions and skills will continue to be preserved and passed on.”

[scribemallow]

kirburbia ch. 15 - your heroic duty

meta knight catches feelings, texts horribly and invests in burgers.

ch 15 of kirburbia is now out! you can read the full text below or on ao3 here.

as always, thank you for reading!

The first time Meta Knight really interacts with human society is when he finds a flyer stapled to a post. He’s in town for groceries, a duty that Dedede designated to him after the burger night depleted their supplies of virtually everything Dedede had in his cupboard- which was mostly burger ingredients, Meta Knight realizes. He can see it stapled there, blowing in the light summer breeze, white and conspicuous from many meters away. Tentatively, looking not to damage it, he restrains it with his hands and takes a look.

There’s a lot of numbers on there, which Meta Knight assumes are phone details. And there’s a picture of what looks to be a cat. He knows that humans live their lives with animals- mostly cats and dogs, who startle him when he hears them bark- and that they like them a lot, but even with the cute appearance of most cats, he’s not so sure. A large, capitalized word is emblazoned on the top- “LOST CAT- PLEASE HELP”. Lost? He asks himself internally whether it’s even worth keeping an animal if it’ll get lost, but he can’t help feeling somewhat sympathetic. After all, Kirby does his own thing most of the time, but deep in Meta Knight’s heart he can’t ignore that losing him would be devastating.

“Then again,” he mumbles to himself, “Kirby isn’t a cat.” Regardless, he takes out the “Smart Phone” from his pocket- Dedede insists on keeping contact even if Meta Knight dislikes the device and its annoyances- and takes a photo, lining it up for the perfect shot of the ginger-and-white kitty and its wide blue eyes. Trying to remember how to text on the thing again, he attaches the file to a message, intended for Dedede. Hardly a difficult task, as Dedede is the only contact on Meta Knight’s phone (if they agree on nothing else, they agree that Kirby is too young to have one yet), but it takes him a deal of time to make the phone work anyway. He presses send on the typo-laden message, and slips the phone back in his pocket, expecting a period of silence from Dedede (who had insisted he was doing something very important at home). Instead, after only a few seconds, his phone buzzes and lights up.

Meta Knight: Hey Dedede Have You Seen This Cat. There Is A Flyer Outside The Grocery Store. He Is Lost Apparently.

Penguin: isnt that the fat fuck who keeps meowing at the back door for treats

Meta Knight: Language Dedede

Penguin: i can say whatever i fucking want

Meta Knight: So You Have Seen The Cat

Penguin: ya i see him all the time. or at least a cat that looks the same lol. a lot of cats look very similar.

Meta Knight: How Do You Know That The Cat’s Name Is Lol

Penguin: no that’s an acronym for laughing out loud lol

Meta Knight: A Lost Cat Is No Laughing Matter Dedede

Penguin: right sorry. well i had to get that cat out of the backyard before i was grillin last night. he was hungie as hell

Meta Knight: Do You Really Think It Is This Cat?

Penguin: same markings, worth a shot

Meta Knight: How Do We Get It Back In The Yard

Penguin: get more burger’s in the grocery store. stat. this is a tactical espionage mission

Meta Knight: What

Penguin: buy burgers from the store. and buns and stuff. and guac and potato chips.

Meta Knight: No Sauce?

Penguin: actually i take that burger sauce from the mcdonalds

Meta Knight: Is That Legal

Penguin: ive never been arrested for it

Meta Knight: Ok. Good Bye Dedede

Penguin: seeya

Meta Knight slips the phone back into his pocket and stops leaning on the post himself. He remarks to himself what an awful texter Dedede is- doesn’t capitalize his words like he should, despite telling Meta Knight it was proper, and he uses confusing little pictures in his messages as well. Then he goes into the store. It’s a neatly organized place, which satisfies Meta Knight greatly, and it’s air conditioned- also a bonus. Without thinking too hard about the brand preferences that cats have, he slips a few packs of ground beef (because Dedede makes them from scratch) and the other necessary ingredients into his cart. Then he adds a few chocolate cakes, telling himself that he’ll share them with Kirby and Dedede later after dinner. He’ll always have room for chocolate, even if he’s full.

Approaching the counter, standing in line, he thinks about how different this all is from his normal life. As much as he likes being a knight, he’s not really one on Earth, he tells himself. Here… Well, he’s just Meta. Embarrassingly, that’s a relaxing thought to him. Sometimes all you want is the heroic obligation of finding someone’s lost cat. When he reaches the front, he pulls out the payment card in a way that’s now instinct to him- it causes the least fuss- and swipes it over the little machine. It emits its single beep and Meta Knight is free to go.

Walking towards the car (which Dedede reluctantly let him drive), he thinks more about the “hot stuff” incident. Though it’s only really an incident in my mind, isn’t it? He can feel himself physically flinching when he imagines saying it to Dedede out loud, even without trying to understand why he’d want to do it. For all their past opposition and competition, he can’t help but admit that Dedede has a special kind of charisma regardless of his sometimes-ill temperament. He is an interesting character, and not unpleasant to spend time with. Being with him on another planet didn’t seem like a punishment in the way it did before, nor did it feel like something Meta Knight was enduring simply to keep Kirby safe from whatever was the problem- fire or dark matter or something. Meta feels his mind get too clouded to even remember, tangled in a web of thoughts.

Do I like Dedede now? How should I act about that? Can he tell?

He fumbles with the keys to the car when he tries to unlock it, blushing when he realizes that these are Dedede’s and that in a little way, this is them holding hands. So Meta Knight takes a deep breath, focusing on the ground beneath his feet.

You just have to get through this feeling, he tells himself.