#ok i might be out of the art block woods. might be

[slavhew]

I lived bitch

[peridotporygon]

redoing my pinned because uhh i wanted to ^_^

tldr; my name is kasper, i go by he/him and this is a blog where i scream into the void about my intrests and ramble about my ocs :)

+ check out my pokefarm!

toyhou.se! (i make codes on there and my ocs r epic trust...)

pronouns.cc (more info on how to refer to me)

also note: this post will probably be updated a lot as my intrests change, also because i love editing my pinned lololol

▷ hello !! you can call me kasper or peridot or any other iteration of my url ^_^ !! i'm still trying to figure out a name for myself so it might change at some point, but i go by kasper for now!!

▷ please try and use he/him and masculine terms for me !!! i also use xe/xem and a handful of other prns but i prefer he/him!!

▷ i am very socially anxious but i love making friends!! just ask me if you wanna be mutuals because i don't always get the hint :>

▷ !!!i am a minor!!! please be normal about that!!

▷ i'm transmasc and aroace, and i also collect a ton of xenos!!

▷ i'm otherhearted and relate a ton to nonhuman creatures (especially aliens and cats!!) call me a CREATURE. i am an ANOMALY!!!

▷ i have audhd (professionally diagnosed adhd and kind of?? diagnosed autism,) as well as diagnosed OCD. i might be slightly awkward or unnatural in conversations, please be patient with me!! :D and if i don't respond to an ask or dm or anything, it's not your fault!! i just get nervous x.x

▷ i'm very prone to derealization and paranoia, please do your best to not directly mention triggering topics around me as they trigger really bad intrusive thoughts

what i'll post about !

▷ mostly fandom related stuff

▷ general art stuff

▷ my ocs!

▷ aus ive created

▷ random rambling about things

tagging guide & sideblogs !

#pory.txt — me talking about whatever i want, usually related to fandom stuff or just me getting autistically excited™️

#cyberspace transmissions — my art tag!

#tw vent — me venting, block this tag if needed (i honestly just need to scream into the void, you aren't obligated to offer support)

#crystalmon — a steven universe x pokemon au i made, although i mostly stopped updating for now

#team crystal gem — a steven universe x pokemon mystery dungeon au, this one is slightly more active

#X (oc) — specific ocs

#pory gaming hours — usually me liveblogging my pokemon nuzlocke experiences or whenever i start a new game

#poryblog — random life events, literally me just blogging :p

#scrapclan — me and my friend @/doodlinge's warrior cats clan!!

@pixelsgifs — gif and web resources blog, i also make stamps and userboxes there

ask first if you want my alterhuman / coping mechanism sideblog

pokemon irl / rotomblr blogs ! (note: all rotomblr stuff is currently on hiatus due to school + mental health, and i'm working on redoing their stories :p )

@nells-universe — a cryptid and alien investigator who always seems to have unexplainable things happen to her, at the cost of her own health. [most active]

@poke-dexter — nell's older brother, and a former evil team member who's trying to navigate the world without the "supports' of the team.

@team-ethereal-official — an extremely annoying rich kid with a plan to exterminate the galar region of all "ugly" pokemon. totally doesn't have a crush on lysandre :3

intrests !

☆ pokemon (special interest)

☆ steven universe (hyperfixation)

☆ miitopia, and nintendo stuff in general

☆ the scp foundation

☆ pokemon mystery dungeon

☆ competitive pokemon (mostly on showdown)

☆ aliens and cryptids

☆ meow wolf (THoER and omega mart)

☆ cats & animals

☆ gravity falls

☆ liminal spaces

☆ analog & digital horror

☆ i saw the tv glow

☆ warrior cats

☆ sonic the hedgehog (mostly the idw comics)

☆ ok k.o

☆ rocks and minerals

☆ inanimate insanity

☆ objectified (webcomic)

☆ sparklecare hospital

music !!

☆ will wood !!!

☆ jack stauber

☆ slaughter beach, dog

☆ radiohead

☆ car seat headrest

☆ alex g

☆ phoebe bridgers / boygenius

☆ mitski

☆ roar

☆ adrienne lenker / big thief

☆ sign crushes motorist

characters !

peridot is currently THE character that occupies my brain right now. she's my blorbo. my skrunkly. the creature EVER.

other sillies include lapis (su), goosefeather (warrior cats), lucius selig (meow wolf), and basically all the pokemon s&m characters :)

BYF / boundaries !

i know people don’t really follow DNI’s, but it’s best to block me if you don’t like my stuff. there’s no benefits to hating on me!! i’m having fun, and if you don’t like it, you’re not worth my time!! :p

> i don't have a dni for fandoms or anything, as long as you don't directly support problematic creators (as in buying merchandise, concert tickets, etc.) i honestly couldn't care less about what you enjoy. you are NOT a bad person for liking ""problematic"" media or ships or whatever.. im just uncomfortable with certain things

> on another note: if you actively hate on people's intrests, this isn't the place for you lol

> this is entirely a personal comfort thing but i might block you if you have a blog centered around / heavily involving any ships w peridot, sorry ^_^; im sure youre very nice i just do not like them lol

> im also in general v uncomfortable with shipping & romantic content in general (aro), so again its just 4 my own comfort!! shipping is great im just a weirdo!!

> its a very weird trigger im aware but im also just hella uncomfortable with supernatural stuff (the TV show) due to a past abuser so just try n tag it :)

> youll also probably be blocked if youre weird abt peridot aroace discourse (which is a weird amount of people on here,,) or aspec discourse in general

> aspec people are literally queer. sorry. end of story. if you're going to deny that you should just..... leave

> don't make any romantic or sexual remarks towards me, even if it's a joke. i also dislike sexual jokes in general (especially if you're a stranger, it's just really weird) so pls be mindful of that!!

> don't talk about anything existential or relating to human existence to me, it will literally cause me to go into a spiral. i’m also generally uncomfortable with topics about religion or the afterlife (due to personal traumas & general discomforts)

> i'm not intrested in contact with people outside of tumblr, so please don't ask for any of my socials or contact information. if we’re mutuals, i can give out my nintendo code, but ask first!! x3

> in general, just be a nice person. don't be discriminatory on here, this is a safe place

thank you for listening to me and respecting my boundaries!!!

[stupid-lil-poetries]

Intro post I guess?

This is mostly going to be my blog for any thing that I don't really feel like explaining to my family/am too embarrassed to put on my main/feel like if I don't put it on this blog I'm spamming my moots/ect.

★IF YOU KNOW ME IRL PLS DNI, TY★

Main blog: @failingatlifespectacularly!

Alterhuman rp blog: @f32ns-woods!

I'm still figuring my shit out, so not all of this is for sure lol

Name: Fern

Pronouns: anything EXCEPT he/him, (I prefer she/they/neos/just my name, neos based on cats and divinities are greatly appreciated)

Queer/lgbtqia Identities: asexual, cupioromantic, catgender, egogender, pan-angled-aroace, misc. xenogender lables

Alterhumanity: cathearted/catkith/synpath, (specifically a dilute calico w/ high white spotting), divinehearted, aspecies, otherlink (cat and deity)

I AM A MINOR, NO NSFW INTERACTION, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED!

tags: (I will forget these, I am incapable of being consistent)

#screaming into the void, any post where I talk

#how the fuck would I know?, asks

#my post now :3, reblogs

#stupid lil poetries, my writing (usually a horrible attempt at poetry that my english teacher would be disappointed by)

#imaginary friends?, stuff to do with Willow and Soror(see post below)

#silly arts, exactly what it sounds like

#hope you like <3, completed requests(see post below)

Me!

I would love new friends, if you follow me I will probably follow you back!

Userboxes:

Important silly↓

[name-doggo]

Welp I ended Up Rewriting That One short Fanfic for OOS I did back in October and Accidentally made it sound more Romantic

I was just going to Edit it on Ao3, but since I posted it Here (on my Now Art Account) originally, I might as well post it here.

The Boys finally got back to Oscar’s now chewed up House after walking what Oscar considered Miles. It didn't help that they got lost in the woods for a while, only having each other to make sure one of them didn't get left behind; it would’ve been some twisted form of Irony for the Universe to Kill one of them after just surviving that Chomping monster. It was also something that Oscar couldn't stand to allow, even if it wasn't a thought that was consciously there during that walk.

He looked down at himself to see a few scratches from the pines he passed by and the rocky ground he fell on when deciding to jump off a Train Track. He was shocked he had more mud on his pants than visible injuries when his whole body ached from fatigue and pain. That was probably why he didn't say anything on the walk back or when he went to change into cleaner clothes. None of them spoke a word as they set up their sleeping bags and attempted to rest. Not even the simplest murmur of a Goodnight between them as Oscar went to turn off the lights. They just let their Bodies walk, clean up, and rest as they processed what happened...at least that was what Oscar was doing.

He kept tossing and turning in his Sleeping bag despite him hurting each time he rolled over. His mind was wide awake as ever while his body begged for some rest. Oscar almost gave up on Sleeping after trying for what felt like 30 minutes, and just stared at the dark ceiling hoping it would distract him enough to sleep. Not focusing on Sleeping anymore made him realize he felt a bit of shaking to his side. It wasn't anything huge like from an Earthquake, but it was enough to make Oscar notice. He turned his head over and could only see the faint silhouette of Raj's back. Were they even still awake? The more Oscar thought about it...the more it made sense for the answer to be yes; he was awake as well, after all.

"Raj?" Oscar blurted out, forgetting that it's the middle of the night and should've kept his voice down. If Raj wasn't awake beforehand, he certainly was Awake now.

"What?" Raj turned over to face Oscar as they Whispered in an almost harsh yet calm tone. Facing each other didn't do much since they could hardly see anything with how dark Oscar’s living room was.

"You Ok?"

"Yea...I guess." His voice started to drift off as if they hesitated to even finish their sentence; Oscar could tell he was still hesitating to speak more as a Silence grew between the two. Oscar may have been an idiot, but he liked to think he was usually in sync with how his friend's felt.

"I was just thinking about earlier and wondering about What ifs...it's stupid." Even through the pitch blackness, he was still able to make out Raj’s shoulder movement as if he was shrugging off his fear and doubts.

"I doubt the Plushtrap Chaser is Going to get up again and attack us Raj, there's nothing to worry about." Oscar scooted himself up to be sitting, trying to put a hand on one of Raj’s shoulders. Before Oscar could, Raj did the same as well; both now sitting directly in front of each other.

"It's not about the Chaser Oscar...It was about you standing in front of the Train." Raj’s voice started to strain when mentioning the train. It almost started to sound like he was choking on his own words and was holding back something within them. Oscar couldn't wrap his mind around why out of everything that happened, and even the whole situation as a whole, the only Thing Raj was apparently thinking about was him...standing on the Train Tracks. Not when Isaac's foot was close to being eaten. Not when they were trapped inside a bathroom with the only exit being blocked by the very thing that would eat at their stomachs the second it had the chance to. Not when death was almost a few feet away, he was only thinking about the Train?

"Why?" Oscar’s voice was flabbergasted as if what Raj said was completely ridiculous for him to comprehend; which wasn't what Oscar originally intended.

"I Thought you were going to Die Oscar, Why wouldn't I care about you more than the Chaser?" If Oscar had the ability to shine a light at Raj at that very moment, he would expect to see Raj's face turn irritated as he spoke; like he was combating Oscar’s insult sounding question. It left a bit of silence between the two for what felt like minutes, but it easily could've been Oscar just slowing down the time to make it feel like forever.

"...Were you wanting me to answer that question?"

"Yes, Oscar." 

"Oh uh..." Oscar tried to think of a Reason, but his Mind was stuck. On one hand he couldn't understand why they would only care more about that moment than almost dying to a Chomping Rabbit the whole time. On the other he didn't see a reason why Raj wouldn't focus on Oscar almost dying. Oscar had been worried and focused on Raj and Isaac dying...it had to be the same, right?

"Because you Could've died to the Plushtrap Chaser?" He wasn't confident with his answer, but it was the only one he could think of without sitting in the dark trying to figure out his conflicting mind. Raj already started to sound like an annoyance was growing within him after he sat in the dark not Answering their question the first time; Oscar didn’t want to spark it even more. Oscar’s answer was returned with a sigh from Raj. It didn't sound annoyed, like how Oscar thought at first, it sounded like a voice of disappointment.

"I know I've could’ve died too Oscar...I just thought you dying at that Train would be worse...I guess- Like I said, it's stupid." The worried but almost soothing voice Raj usually had came back for a moment, right before it went to Him dismissing everything they just said beforehand. Oscar knew it wasn't true though. They would’ve never had the conversation to begin with if Raj truly thought it was stupid. Raj wouldn't even humor Oscar's stupid ideas when he helped tutor Oscar with homework. Raj was close to scooting back to lay down before Oscar interrupted.

"What do you mean you thought it would’ve been worse?" Raj went back up straight to sit up, he was now just closer to the end of their sleeping bag. His movement seemed a bit tense like what Oscar asked was Jarring.

"It was Stupid dude, you can drop it."

"I mean if I did end up dying then, the Plushtrap would've too. I don’t see how that's worse than all of us Dying." 

"Oscar, stop." Raj’s stern voice sounded a bit muffled as he turned away from Oscar and started to tilt their head downwards.

"But-"

"I'm going to the Bathroom." His voice almost felt Cold as he quickly stood up and walked away at a pace that could've been considered a jogging pace. Oscar felt a wave of guilt watching the dark shadow of his friend leave, because he knew it was his fault. He pushed Raj too much, just so he could get an answer to how Raj felt. He wanted to understand Raj the same way he always thought he understood him, and ended up making him hate him...Oscar knew Raj probably didn't hate him, but that's what he felt like he deserved.

Oscar continued to sit in the dark as he  waited for a minute...then 2 minutes...then 3. He for once was paying close attention to the time pass. He was Hoping after some time he would hear the footsteps of Raj coming back to his sleeping bag, and yet that never happened; not before he quietly stood up, trying  to not wake Isaac, and walking out of the Living Room to enter the Hallway where the Bathroom stayed.

Oscar expected to see a small bit of light emitting through the crack under the door, forgetting the power was completely dead at that moment, but there was only a closed door hiding more darkness behind it; and Raj if Oscar took what they said to be true. He could see the faint markings of chewed wood right by the doorknob from a few hours earlier. It was one of the few doors that wasn't completely broken enough to be unusable, but part of him wished it was to be able to see Raj at that moment. Even if Raj didn't exactly want to see him, or even if the world made it hard for him to see anything like it was already. Oscar gave a small knock on the door, trying to get Raj's attention without causing a scene.

"Raj?" Oscar whispered in an almost hush voice that was trying to make certain Raj knew it was him.

"What?" Raj's voice was close to mumbling, but Oscar could tell they had cried a few seconds beforehand.

"I'm sorry."

"Dude, It-"

"You don't have to say anything- I know you're upset with me. I'm sorry for saying those stupid Questions. I was just..." 'Wanting to understand you?' 'Waiting and asking for the reason you worried about me out of everything else?'  'Desperate to have you open up to me instead of having you hold whatever you were thinking in?' These were all thoughts Oscar had while trying to figure out what reason he should say, despite all of them having similar aspects to them...He didn’t choose any of them. He decided to go with the easiest excuse; the one his friends already knew about.

"...being an Idiot." Oscar turned back down the hallway he just walked through and started to return back to his sleeping bag; thinking it was best to leave Raj alone with an apology. Not even a few steps in, he heard the door that was now somewhere behind him open.

"That's the problem Oscar." Oscar turned around, faintly seeing Raj slowly walk towards him as his eyes continued to adjust even when he thought his eyes already did. What he saw didn't exactly matter much to him at that moment though. He cared more about what he heard in Raj's sorrowful and almost defeated Voice.

"You don't think enough about stuff before you do it- Even when me and Isaac beg you to. I worry about you a lot because of that dude. Isaac does too, but I feel like I worry about you more than I should..." The thought of asking Raj what he meant by 'Worrying about him more than they should' lingered in Oscar’s mind, but he didn't intervene with it since he wanted to Listen. Raj was Opening up to him, and he shouldn’t ruin that by asking too many questions again. He needed to care more about The boy who started to tear up and sniffle everytime they breathed.

"When I saw you on that Train Track- or even when the Train passed, I thought you were Dead. I thought you just died and I didn't do enough to stop it- At least if we all died to the Toy it wouldn’t have been our fault-"

"It would’ve been my Fault, Raj. I stole the Toy." Oscar cut off Raj before he could finish. Consciously, he wasn't sure exactly why he decided to, but deep down he knew exactly why; the exact reason just left his own mouth.  Raj started to slowly shake his head in response.

"You weren't the one who made it like that Man...You couldn’t have known. Besides, if we all died then...I wouldn't have to Live without you. I mean- I want you in my life, and you being dead would kind of stop that." The last part got to Oscar as Raj paused for a moment or even longer. For some reason he never considered his friends cared for him like that. He always saw himself as an outlier holding them back from...life? He didn’t know the exacts, but that's what it always felt like to him. 

He always kept preparing himself for them to eventually leave and get better friends than him. Friends that don't struggle to get them Treats or Gifts whenever they hang out. Friends that didn't need to run back to their house after school, just so they can call each other for dumb homework questions. Friends that didn't need to help with Nursing homes and could hang out whenever they wanted to. Friends that didn't drag them into horrible situations like stealing killer toys. Hearing that Raj, or his friend specifically, wanted to Live with him made him feel warm when the entire house felt cold. 

"..That sounded dumb out loud-" Raj put a Hand over one of his eyes and edge of his face, showing he was embarrassed while trying to hide it. Oscar just continued to stare at Him earnestly. Maybe he could send a message with his mind to tell Raj that he didn’t think it was Dumb, he felt the same way.

"I just...I don’t know man- I didn't want to say any of that to you since It's not like- normal for you guys to think like that." Not Normal? Was it really not Normal to feel that way, or did Raj just think it wasn't normal? It always felt like Oscar thought like that, even if he wasn’t exactly aware of it. Isaac must think like that too; if Raj cared about Oscar more than he originally thought, then surely Oscar had been underestimating how much Isaac cared for them as well.

"But now you know I'm weird...or weirder."

"What? I don't think it's weird or you're weird for thinking that." Oscar reached out and Grabbed Raj's shoulders on each side; he wasn't quite sure himself what he was trying to accomplish with said action, but he went along with it as he kept speaking.

"I know you think I'm stupid, and you're right, but I do a lot of Dumb stuff since I think it would be the best for all of Us. For you Guys. I didn't know that it would hurt you instead.." Oscar turned his head slightly to look away as he thought about the almost heartbroken feeling he had right before stealing the toy; the determination he had when standing on the train tracks, ready to destroy that monster once and for all. His friends, or how he felt about them, were always a fuel to the Fire of his Dumb Decision-making Brain.

"I'm sorry for making you worry and being the biggest Idiot in the world. I just would do almost anything if it meant you guys would be okay..." He was trying at first to be Hyperbolical with his statement, until remembering it was true due to the fact that same night he just stood in front of a Speeding Train for them. He chuckled slightly in his own head as he looked back up at Raj, who was avidly focused on him and what he was saying. He could see a slight smile on their face, which made Oscar react by forming a grin of his own; just probably looked more stupid than Raj’s.

"I love you." Raj’s smile immediately dropped in exchange of a shocked expression with his face looking darker than it did before. Shit. Was that weird? Oscar had to have been weird if Raj was now staring at him like that. That was what Oscar felt at the moment, so he thought it would’ve been fine to say that. He guessed he was wrong, but still decided to question it anyway.

"...Was that too Far?" Oscar took his hands off of Raj’s shoulders and held them close to his own body. Raj quickly started to shake his head in a slight motion.

"No you're fine, man. I just didn't expect that." They stood in silence as Relief hit Oscar in the face. He didn't do anything that Raj considered weird; or maybe it was weird, but Raj didn’t mind it being weird. He didn't exactly ask if it was weird or not...He was so caught up in his mind of 'Was it actually weird or Not' question, he didn't notice Raj going in for a Hug until he felt their Arms wrapped around him and his face dug into Oscar’s shoulder.

"I love you too though." Oh...Well that answered Oscar’s question pretty clearly, but Oscar cared more about softly hugging Raj back than whatever he was originally questioning. He never felt like he's gotten a hug similar to this before. The only person who commonly hugged him was his own Mother, and her hugs were always the type to make it hard to even breathe. This? This was way more gentle and yet just as comforting; maybe even more comfortable since he could breathe as fast or slow as he wanted. It was like when he covered himself in a soft blanket as he went to bed, warm and made it incredibly easy to let his mind drift off to sleep...Which was exactly what happened after. He fell asleep on Raj’s shoulder and body, still vividly hearing the last conversation that happened in the night.

"He fell asleep like that?" A new voice in the distance behind them, or Oscar, spoke after a while of silence between the two.

"Isaac? How long have you been there- or well awake?"

"For a while- You guys aren't as quiet as you think." Isaac sounded less annoyed and more playful, which was unusual for the person who had the biggest pet peeve about being woken up too early.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't want to Ruin the Special moment you guys were having." Oscar was confused how Isaac could’ve ruined their conversation, but didn't bother or even think to Ask. The only way he would have "ruined" it, in Oscar’s mind at least, would be to just admit he didn't care about them; which Oscar doubted Isaac would ever say after being wrong about how much Raj cared about them.

"...You need help carrying him back?"

"No- I'll be fine getting him back on my own." Raj placed one of his hands on the Back of Oscar’s head as he slowly dragged Oscar to presumably his sleeping bag. Oscar almost felt stupid for letting Raj slowly carry him back, but his brain was too tired to judge himself for Liking it.

"Oh- And about what you guys were saying earlier, I care about you guys too." Oscar couldn't help but smile despite one of his cheeks being smushed on Raj's shoulder. His friends still Cared for him despite everything his Idiot brain pulled. In fact, he considered his relationships between them now were even better than before.

[weeb-stomper]

Bakugou KatsukixFem!Reader - Desk Work

Word Count: 2,170

~Hello~

*In surprised old man voice* “It’s been 57 years.....”

No seriously, sorry for not posting in so long! Art block is a bitch :( But I’m back! I have something in the works that’s taking way longer than I thought it would, so I busted this out over the last few days just to get things goin again on the ol’ writing blog :) hope you enjoy, NSFW below cut

special thank you to @wootato and @kat-unzel for beta reading this so many times. Also tagging @cupcake-rogue because she went out of her way to mention something I wrote in a post the other day and she made me feel all UwU-soft :)

Tagging all my friends cause ha

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     Patrolling with Dynamight had been difficult at first. He was abrasive and stand-offish, a wolfish thirst for power kept him from having many friends and the calculated strength he brought to every fight was admittedly a bit scary. Civilians were equal-parts likely to ask for his autograph as they were to cross the street when they saw the two of you coming, with the exception of the countless women who would attempt to chat him up throughout your patrols. You couldn’t say you didn’t get it, if you were honest. He was quite attractive, and you’d passed an embarrassing amount of time wondering what those calloused fingers might feel like digging into the meat of your thighs, what that mocking sneer might taste like when it melted into your mouth…But considering the cold way he brushed off his adoring public, those fantasies remained as they were. Fantasies.

     All you could say now was that if you’d had any idea how this day might turn out, you would have worn cuter underwear.

     You were sat in Bakugou’s lap, your back against his chest and his feet hooked around your ankles, prying your knees open so wide your hips hurt. You wondered in passing where exactly your shorts had gone before a sharp pain at your pressure point erased your thoughts once again, the resulting moan echoing in the stale air of his office. Your jaw ached, Bakugou’s fingers stretching your mouth open so wide you thought your lips might split, his other hand pinching and tweaking your nipple underneath the stretchy material of your hero costume’s top. The taste of his sweat flooded your mouth, his rough fingers smashing your tongue against the sharp edges of your teeth and allowing drool to spill out and run down your chin. His breath was hot against your neck as he sucked another mark onto the sensitive skin just below your ear, the overwhelming scent of burnt caramel filling your nose.

     “C’mon sweetheart, where’s all those stupid jokes now?” Bakugou hissed against your ear, hand dropping from your chest to rub harsh circles against your clit. “You were so fuckin annoying on patrol today, I thought for sure you’d be a good girl for me.”

     A choked sob wracked your shoulders as his pace picked up, the rumble of his manic laughter reverberating through your ribs completely overwhelming your senses: Taste, smell, hearing, feeling, he was everywhere on you at once and it was just too much. And yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from writhing against him, wordlessly pleading for more. Your head spun, growing more and more hazy as his ministrations continued, dragging ragged moans and whines from your lungs against your will. If he’d just let you cum once, if he could show you that kindness, you’d do anything.

     Your head tilted towards the door of his office in the far corner of the room, noting with a cracked whimper that he hadn’t even bothered to lock it before he’d set on you. You felt him smile against your shoulder as his eyes followed yours, a pang of panic ringing in your head a split second before he sank two fingers inside of you. A guttural moan poured from your lips, your back bowing against him as he began working you over.

     “Heh...you finally noticed? Took ya long enough, sweetheart. You’re dumber than I thought.” He chuckled, feeling you clench around his fingers at his harsh words. “You like that, huh? Then why don’t ya beg for me, sweetheart?”

     A fresh torrent of drool dripped past your lips as Bakugou finally pulled his hand from your mouth, fingers still connected to your lips by a nearly-invisible strand of saliva. Swallowing back as much as you could, you worked your jaw open and closed, easing some of the built up tension there. It had been painful, but you couldn’t help but miss the taste of him. An all consuming sense of emptiness mixed into your lust clouded mind when his other hand trailed up from between your legs, and you let out a low whimper at the loss. If he kept up like this, you were sure you’d pass out. His hands settled on your hips, gently urging you off his lap and turning you to face him.

     He remained slumped in the chair, a wide grin showed the now familiar sharp canines at the edges of his smile. Half lidded eyes raking down your face, trailing across the swelling marks that framed your neck on either side before skipping down to settle between your legs, heightening the feeling of your own slick rolling down your thighs, and his breathing faltered for a moment. It was humiliating, standing half naked and wrecked in front of your boss like some fucked out groupie, and your hands subconsciously drifted to the hem of your top, knotting into the elastic material as you shifted anxiously in front of him. Risking a glance, you noticed the strained tent of his pants. Even through the thick fabric of his hero costume you could tell he was big and, you realized with a surge of pride, that he wanted you. A vicious grin stretched your abused lips.

     Bakugou was silent as you sank to your knees between his legs, his smirk falling as you slid your hands up his muscled thighs, looking up at him through tear spattered lashes with wide, innocent eyes as you worked his belt undone. The softness of your touch left him frozen, his head tipping back against the seat when you finally tugged down his waistband to free his cock. Flattening your tongue, you licked a long strip up the underside of him, drinking in the loud groan that slipped past his lips. Those hands you’d quickly grown addicted to twitched, moving to tangle in your hair, but you slapped them away. He growled as you continued taunting him, placing small kitten licks and sloppy kisses against his member and relishing the needy way he tried to push into your mouth whenever you strayed too close to the head.

     “I don’t beg for shit.” Your voice was hoarse but confident. You were playing a dangerous game and you knew it, but seeing him all riled up from your teasing was such a power trip that you couldn’t resist.

     Your stomach dropped as your eyes slid up to Bakugou’s face, meeting his gaze for the first time since before he’d closed the door. His lips were pulled back in an animalistic sneer, glaring down at you with half-lidded eyes. The furious crimson staining his cheeks did nothing to soften his expression, like it might have were this literally any other situation. A small giggle tumbled from your mouth despite the warning written plainly on his face. Ya, you’d worked him up. 

     Big mistake.

     His hand shot into your hair, gripping tightly at the roots and guiding your head to him while the other hand held his cock steady. He shoved himself sloppily against your lips, smearing precum across your mouth and cheeks. You gasped as his hold on your hair shifted, a burning pain exploding across your scalp, and he seized the opportunity to force his way past your swollen lips and bottom out in your mouth. Tears pricked your eyes once again at the new sensation as his now-free hand shifted into your hair to maneuver your head along his length. 

     “Keep runnin your mouth, sweetheart.” Bakugou snarled, slamming himself against the back of your throat and making you gag against the intrusion.

     He shuddered, rough hands cementing you in place against him. Your eyes widened, a reflexive wave of panic sang through your veins as the seconds stretched on, your nails digging deep into the tops of his legs and a hazy tingling the edges of your mind as the lack of oxygen made itself known. You hollowed your cheeks around him, doing your best to work your tongue against his shaft and dropping a hand between your legs to give some much-needed attention to your neglected core. The feeling was euphoric, the tension building inside you feeling more and more unbearable as Bakugou’s moans mingled with the small whimpers escaping around his cock until your shoulders were shaking. Pins and needles erupted across your skin as your orgasm crashed over you, your shoulders folding forward as you slumped against him, thighs twitching as you rolled your hips into your hand.

     He tore himself from your mouth with a stuttering groan, ignoring the way you coughed and sputtered for air as he rose from his seat, pulling you onto unsteady feet. Spinning you around quickly, he planted a hand between your shoulders and shoved you down against the desk in front of you. The cool wood felt good against your heated skin and you relaxed against the surface. You clutched the edges of the fine wood for support as you indulged in your peak, savoring the lingering muscle twinges and blissed out fog still wrapping your mind. It was only when you felt something hard press against your entrance that you came to your senses, managing to slur out a ‘wait’ before he sank into you to the hilt, immediately pulling you undone again. You almost screamed, patches of white popping in your vision as he began thrusting into you wildly, writhing in painful ecstasy as he hit that sweet spot inside of you over and over again. The sound of that malicious laughter cut filled your ears once again 

     “Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me.” He groaned, planting a hard slap against your ass. “Keep making those cute little noises for me, ok?”

     You were being too loud, you knew, but you couldn’t stop the salacious moans and whimpers from bubbling past your lips between mindless praises and begs. Dignity was a forgotten concept at that moment. You couldn’t care less if someone walked in, saw you rocking back into his Bakugou’s thrusts like the pathetic, desperate little thing you felt like, or heard the way you mewled and cried for your boss to fuck you till you couldn’t breath. All that matter was chasing the high that Bakugou gave you, the stretch in your walls as he used you completely for himself.

     The breath was again stolen from your lungs as he slammed down on top of you, pressing your chest so hard against the desk you could feel your ribs creak. His rhythm was growing sloppy, hands groping you wherever he could reach as he neared his own climax slipping beneath your shirt to dig into the burning flesh of your waist. A sudden desire erupted in your lusty mind, and you lifted your head, trying in vain to communicate with the man above you. He let out a frustrated growl that reverberated against your back, threading his fingers into your hair and jerking your head to the side enough to look you in the face.

     “What the hell do you want, sweetheart? Spit it out!” He demanded, carmine eyes glued to your bruised lips.

     “I’m on the pill!” You sobbed, voice no more than a cracked whine.

     You shuddered at the wolfish grin that split his face as he processed your words, releasing your hair and digging his fingers into your waist hard enough to bruise.

     “You wanna be my little slut? All filled and dripping with my cum?”

     You nodded frantically, struggling to match him when his pace picked up.

     His eyes darkened. “Then say please.”

     You didn’t hesitate. How could you?

     “Katsuki, please!”

     That was it. He hugged you tight against his chest as he finished inside of you, painting your insides with thick ropes of cum, thrusting into you shallowly as he rode out his high, the immense feeling of fullness bringing you to your own peak once again. You went completely limp against the desk, letting out a sharp wail as tremors took over your body once again. It was the most deliciously overwhelming thing you’d ever experienced, completely blotting out your vision for a few seconds and cancelling out everything except the feeling of him still buried inside of you.

     Eventually, the two of you separated, Bakugou tucking himself neatly back into his pants before crossing the room to retrieve clean clothes from the small cabinet in the corner opposite the door. Rather than right yourself, you slid to the floor behind the desk. The twinges in your legs hadn’t completely subsided, but the cold air of the room was starting to become an issue as you realized again that you had no idea where Bakugou had thrown your shorts earlier. Your eyes trailed lazily around the room, briefly appreciating the sight of a now-shirtless Bakugou before grazing past the open door.

     OPEN DOOR!?

     Your eyes darted back to Bakugou, who was now staring at the door with a mixture of horror and shock. You couldn’t help but laugh, slumping back against the desk.

     “Jeanist is gonna be so mad at us.”

@kat-unzel @wootato @sawamooora @honeyyandere @anxietyplusultra @redpandaramblings @krystalwithakay @dynamightslittlehotpocket @spooky-all-year-round @nkjktk @cupcake-rogue

[hyrule-kingdom-updates]

Can we get some spare Launo headcannons for July?

Launo sucked big time at knight school when he first arrived—he didn’t exactly have any background help given no one in his family was a knight either. He was basically assigned the equivalent of “equipment manager” during the first few months. And when he did get proper actions with a broadsword or a bow, Launo struggled with footwork and precision and all the minute details of a duel so he often got his ass handed to him.

But one the top kids in Launo’s class thought he was cool anyways—that was, one Arcadius Hartell. Pretty, rich, ace with sword, bow, spear, and anything sharp, and pretty much had no flaws or weaknesses. Launo at first thought the guy was just pitying him, the kid who has never won a single sparring match and consistently put on training dummy duty (that is reattaching their heads when they got lopped off)

So it came as a bit of a surprise when Arcadius came to ask something from him.

“How do you do that?”

Launo turned from the training dummy he was working on. “S-Sorry, what?”

“The...the thing you do. With the...thing?” Arcadius pointed to the needle and thread Launo was holding as he was reattaching the dummy’s forearm. “How do you do that?”

Launo scrunched his eyebrows in confuzzlement. “This is, uh, well. It’s just sewing I guess. If this guy were real I guess it would be stitching, haha...” He patted the dummy’s wood shoulder playfully as if joking with a pal—the dummy immediately tipped over, Launo coughed and stepped in front of the mess to ignore it. Arcadius nodded thoughtfully.

“So, do you have a special technique or something?”

“I mean, not really, it’s just regular old sewing...”

“But I assume you’ve spent years training on the art.”

“I...uh...I guess? My mom taught me.”

“Oh! So it’s like...an apprenticeship...?”

“...Are you under the impression that sewing is some sacred gift that gets passed down to the worthy or something?”

“.........no....”

The two boys just stood awkwardly for a moment longer, Launo studying Arcadius’ face.

“You don’t even know what sewing is do you?”

“O-Of course I do! It’s the...thing.” He made a sword motion with his fingers, as if wielding a tiny blade. “You stab the stuff and it repairs. With the...” Arcadius squinted as he thought for a moment, “...stool...”

“Spool?”

“Yeah! That! So, look, you’re pretty skilled at everything—“

“I am??” Launo took a step back in shock.

“Yeah! You always fix the equipment, and somehow haul around all those weapons, and make us cool lunches—“

“I don’t know, I made Rubeo vomit last week cause I forgot he hates blueberries...”

Arcadius shook his hands. “N-Not the point. And he sort of deserves it. The fact is you’re obviously leagues ahead of the game—“

“I—Actually I wouldn’t say—“

“—so you just gotta teach me everything you know!” Arcadius pumped a fist and closed his eyes. “How could I ever call myself a knight if I don’t even learn the basics of equipment management! Who will mend the wounded holes in my soldier’s pride if I can’t even fix the tears in my uniform! A mountain’s peak is equivalent to the shallow shore if you have no bearing of the heights you soar.”

Launo blinked. “Are you...okay?”

Arcadius scratched his head. “Aha...sorry. That’s a quote from Aria Nori’s newest volume. Guess I was too into the moment there.”

“Oh! The Zora poet! I’ve read her stuff! I haven’t read her latest volume, but my dad often binds her books—“

“Really?!” Arcadius’ eyes were suddenly star struck. “That’s so cool! This is all the more reason you gotta teach me this stuff.” He waved again at the collapsed training dummy. “Maybe start with the beetle and thread.”

“Needle. D-Do you not know what a needle is?”

Arcadius’ eyes glazed over. “...no...oh my gods that’s not gonna be on the test is it?? I’m so screwed—“

“Nonono it’s not, I’m just...” Launo bit his tongue. Now that he thought about it, he never really saw anyone else in his class do mundane house chore stuff. They were far too busy sharpening swords and bragging about their parents or grandparents or great uncles or cousins that totally were war heroes and high ranking political figures. Sewing could just be a Hateno thing, could it..?

“Can’t you just hire someone to teach you?” Launo started. “I mean, I’m super flattered! Just that, I’m not exactly a master at this, so I’m sure there are adults out there that are more accomplished.”

Arcadius hung his head. “I don’t think my dad would let me...Pretty much everything not sword related he just hires someone to do for me. And he’s super picky about what training I focus on.”

“Well it’s not really official training, it could just be a hobby.”

The boy raised an eyebrow, sounding out the word. “H...Hob...?”

“O-OK, just forget that. H-How about...” Launo didn’t meet his eyes as he absentmindedly kicked the dirt. “Y-You like poetry, right? You can come over to my house and look at my dad’s collection. And when we’re there, I can let my mom...” He scrunched his eyes, trying to nail down the words, “...apprentice you? On the...art, of sewing?”

Arcadius’ eyes were wide enough to reflect the heavens themselves. “R-Really?? You’d do that??”

“I don’t see why not. It’ll be after call and,” Launo’s eyes suddenly sparked, “...You can just tell your dad that you’re training me! Say that you were asked to help your fellow classmates cause you’re already so far ahead from everyone else.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie, Launo thought, bitterly.

“Hmm...” Arcadius tapped his chin, before shrugging. “Might have to tweak the explanation to ‘getting extra credit for top grades by tutoring’ cause I don’t know how he’ll feel about me helping the competition.” He articulated the last word with a mocking, adulting tone. Then he held out a hand. “But I think it sounds like a deal! I’ll give you some pointers, and you introduce me to your mentor.”

“My mom.”

“Yeah, that.”

Launo shook his hand, still a bit timidly, given he now noticed that a few other boys in the training yard were watching the prodigy student interact with the glorified janitor boy.

So they both tutored each other: Larc, in the art of knowing what sewing magic was (Larc bringing the most expensive and ornate needle Launo had ever seen, even though Larc claimed he just found it in his father’s closet) and brewing delicious broths (“Wait, you have to stand around this pot for hours and cook this stuff?? I thought you just made soup in a bowl! You know, like how servants take off the silver cover on the tray and the soup is already there?” “We...dont have waiters or anything...so our method of cooking different.”) Meanwhile, Launo was able to make some progress with knight training—keyword, “some.”

“Don’t make your stance so wide.” Arcadius shoved Launo’s back foot with his boot. “Keep your feet closer together, you only want enough distance so that your front foot can hover an inch off the ground while your back foot stays planted. Any further, and you’ll topple too easily.”

Launo adjusted his stance as instructed, and readied the rapier again. He set his jaw. “OK. Come at me!”

Arcadius nodded. He picked up the wooden sword and swung (a bit slowly and wide) at Launo’s side.

Launo immediately shoved his rapier point left to counter his attack, but instead moved with such force and vigor that he practically fell onto Arcadius’ blade.

Arcadius chuckled, dropping the sword and helping Launo up again. “You don’t need to use to much force when you swing. In fact it’s better to work with simple quick movements with any rapier or piercing sword, since the damage is done by the tip, not the weight.”

“S-Sorry...” Launo mumbled as he got up again.

“Don’t be! Oh hey!” Arcadius suddenly went back around towards the pile of weapons and pulled out a claymore. “Actually, maybe a sword like this will work better for you! You won’t have to worry as much about holding back, or being finesse. All the power is in that downward swing—!” Arcadius swung the sword into a nearby log to demonstrate, nearly cutting it asunder.

He offered it to Launo. “And don’t let the size fool you, it’s not actually that heavy. Large weapons still need to let soldiers be quick enough to parry and block attacks.”

Launo turned the claymore around in his hands, studying the blade and handle.

Arcadius gestured to the log. “Well, go on! It’s similar to the grip I taught you with the broadsword, but this time you use your other hand in the bottom to support the weight as it turns on an axis. Try that downward swing I showed you!”

Launo paused for a moment, thinking. Then, he planted his foot down, and swung the claymore down with all his might, aiming for another soon-to-be piece of firewood.

The claymore whistled as it fell, and it cut into the log deep—about halfway. Yet, still not nearly as deep as how Arcadius had done it.

Nonetheless, he was hopping with joy for Launo. “That was awesome!! You did great!!”

He sighed as he left the claymore in the log. “No I didn’t...”

“What are you talking about? That was probably the best blow you’ve done all night!”

“Yeah! And it’s not even a quarter of the damage that you did with your swing!”

“Well, it still took me a while to—“

Launo gestured to the other log. “It’s been how many weeks?? And I’m not even CLOSE to being as good as you, much less being a top student...” He plopped into the dirt and laid himself out like a starfish.

Larc stood over him, confused. “Why would you want to be a top student?”

“BECAUSE I SUCK ASS, DUDE!” Launo held up his arms, exasperated. Larc, on instinct, stepped back and held his hands close to his chest as he fiddled with his thumbs and mumbled an apology. Launo immediately sighed.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to sound like I’m mad at you. You’re really great, Link. You’re so nice to me and you’re talented and I’m so grateful, but I’m just...” He shifted in the dirt again. “I don’t think I could ever be like you. I’d even dare to say it’s impossible.”

Larc stilled, playing with his thumbs, before daring to step closer and sit in the dirt beside him.

“Can I tell you a secret, Launo?”

He was quiet, but he nodded a yes.

“I think my brother’s a stronger fighter than me.”

Launo furrowed his eyebrows confused, but he continued.

“He just never takes his knight training seriously, because of my father. But I bet if he really tried, he’d be great at it.”

Ah. So that’s what he meant.

“But I AM trying.” Launo whined. “I guess compared to you it doesn’t seem like much but—!”

“Nono! Sorry that’s not what I meant!” Larc quickly cut in. “I just...” He trailed off.

“...There’s a reason I have to be the best.” Larc finally said. He was looking out into the woods, but Launo felt that he wasn’t really looking at anything in particular, maybe deep in thought. “There’s a reason I can’t settle, I can’t rest. It’s really important that I get this all right. And I guess that makes me admirable to most people but...”

He looked down at Launo, still spread out in the dirt. “I didn’t really choose to be a knight, unlike you. I didn’t actually choose to be the best, and I don’t get why so many people do train to be at the top out of their own violation. It really...sucks ass.” He articulated the last part in Launo’s tone, and they both giggled.

“So...I guess that I’m trying to say here is that...” He thought one his words a moment longer. “I think so many people are afraid of trying new things, because they fear not being the best at it, not being at the top. And I suppose ambition is good but...” He tilted his head and shrugged at Launo. “As someone who’s supposedly at the top, I would say I envy anybody that can make progress that their proud of. You choose to be a knight, and you’re training for it out of your own strength and courage. That’s more than I’ll ever have, so you should probably get off the ground and realize that soon.”

Launo’s eyes widened, a bit unnerved by how uncharacteristically blunt Larc was being.

“In my opinion, anyone that aims to be better than everyone is stupid—maybe that’s just me, but...I would think that if I was you, I’d be proud of any progress I made. If I was more skilled than I was yesterday, that’s really all I would care about. Why would I care about being the top of my class? I would kill to just be satisfied with being a better me.”

There was silence as the boys took in Larc’s words. Then he suddenly stood up. “G-Goddess Hylia, sorry I’ve been talking for so long, I didn’t realize how late it was getting.” He went to collect his things. “You can keep the claymore, I think you’d be great at it, just...”

Larc packed his swords and backpack, before turning back to the flopped out Launo. “...I think you’re really cool, Launo. So don’t tap out for my sake—I’m not the person that matters in your training, am I? So don’t give up for any silly reasons like that.”

Launo perked his head up to meet his gaze. While Arcadius was usually serious and controlled during training at school, Larc always seemed to have genuine excitement about swords when it came to him. The bright smile on his face caused his cheeks to warm and he immediately flipped his head back to hide it.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Launo!” Larc ran off into the night, a cobblestone streets in the distance swallowing his figure.

“See you...” Launo whispered.

He lay in the dirt a moment longer—his mother would probably berated him for the stains again—when he finally got up and looked at the claymore in the log. He walked up to it and observed it further, it was another a sixth of the way deep. He glanced at Larc’s log, which was nearly split in two, and sighed. Then he glanced back at his own work.

“Well, it’s better than when I first started I guess...” Launo mumbled.

No one responded.

The boy let out a huff, and gripped the sword again in his hands.

“But I can do better.”

By the time Launo was 16 he was finally beating his classmates with ease, specializing in longswords, axes, and hammers. And while he definitely still “sucked ass” in things like archery and lance work—to which some boys still teased him for—he found overtime that he no longer cared about what they thought. They had their strengths, and he had his. And to top it off, absolutely no one in the academy could make a lemon cookie like him. So at least he had the best in show for that angle.

Even years later, after certain incidents transpired concerning House Hartell, Launo always welcomed Larc to his house for “training.” Although after a while, it would be hard to still call it that when a large chunk of time is really just spent running their fingers through each other’s hair.

“But we’re friends, right?”

“Yeah.”

And even years after graduating as part of the top ten in his class and working as a knight, some of his old classmates would tease him for being the “rich boy’s lap dog,” Launo would find that he still really didn’t care—after a punch or two was thrown, of course. He found that his new lack of anxiety and concern heavily stemmed from that night, when Larc had told him about his envy for choice and satisfaction. Thinking back at the memory of his handling with a sword and his happy little smile once made Launo blush so hard his father teased him about it for the rest of his life—his mother claimed he went so red he would fit right in with the tomato stew. One of these days, Launo would pay Larc back for the endless teasing he got from his parents. And pay Larc back he would, indeed.

I mean, he already had the ring.

[yusuke-of-valla]

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 2

Whumptober Alt. 14

Prompt: Shot

TW: mentions of gunshot wounds

<- Previous  Next->

AO3

~

Haru gets off the train in Yogen-Jaya, trying her best not to look too stiff and awkward. She’s still terrified someone will recognize her, and that will do more harm than good. Morgana had said that staying calm and acting like you were supposed to be somewhere was a good way to sneak in unnoticed while she was nervous about being seen loitering around Okumura company headquarters.

Speaking of Morgana, Haru keeps an eye out for a splash of black fur as she makes her way to the clinic. Akira’s vouched for the doctor there, and that’s the last place Haru knows he was, so that’s where she’s going.

She walks in to see the front room of the clinic empty except for the woman behind a desk in a lab coat.

“Hello, how can I help you?” the doctor says, eyeing Haru impassively.

“Um- m-my friend recommended your medicines.” Haru shoves her hands into the pockets of her hoodie to keep from fiddling with the strings. “He said you make good medicine for exams! They give you energy, or something.”

The doctor taps her pencil against the desk. “So, you’re a part of Kurusu-kun’s study group?”

“Yes!” Haru says, and flinches at how loud and excited she sounds. The doctor smirks and writes something down on a sheet of paper then places it on a desk with a bottle.

“Well, as long as you're here, can you bring this to your next study session? Kurusu forgot it. I’d take it to him myself, but as you can see I’m very busy.”

Haru strides forward and takes the bottle and note, shoving them into her pockets.

“You kids stay safe, alright?” the doctor whispers.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” Haru replies.

The address is in Yogen-Jaya, a few blocks away from the clinic. Haru climbs the steps to the front door and knocks, nervously.

After several agonizing minutes, there’s still no answer, so Haru hesitantly knocks again. “It’s Noir.”

Suddenly, the door swings open and Akira is staring at her, still wearing his hoodie, and pulls Haru into a giant hug.

“I’m so glad you’re ok.” He says.

“Same to you,” Haru says. Akira leads her inside and shuts the door. Morgana runs up to her.

“Haru!”

“Mona-chan!” Haru scoops Morgana up into her arms and hugs him.

Haru’s joy at reuniting with her friends is dampened by another voice. "Finally. Took one of you long enough to get here.”

Haru frowns to see Goro Akechi lying on a couch.

“Akechi. I see you’re alive.”

“So sorry to disappoint you, Okumura.”

Akira clears his throat. “Coffee?”

“I’m fine. I just want to know what the plan is. I take it you haven’t heard from the others?”

Akira shakes his head. “No. I know where Sojiro and Futaba were headed before…” Akira trails off and Haru pats him on the shoulder. As hard as it had been for her to hear about Boss, Akira had been taken in by the man and saw him as another father figure, of course he would be upset.

Akira swallows. “Anyway, I’ve been in touch with Mishima who’s looking into internet rumors and tips, but he’s under close watch for being the Admin of the Phan Site. If we want to figure out what happened to everyone else, we’ll have to do our own leg work.”

“Why waste time, though?” Akechi says. “We’re four now and decently balanced, let’s just go after Shido and be done with it."

“We have to make sure our friends are safe!” Haru snaps.

Akechi rolls his eyes. “The only way they’ll truly be safe is if they’re no longer wanted criminals. Until then they’ll be hunted nonstop. Our priority should be changing Shido’s heart.”

“But we can’t do that if we’re not at full strength, you must have seen his ship, it’s massive! We need the others.”

“Your sentimentality is blinding you, Okumura. I know Shido, he won’t rest until all the loose ends are tied up!”

“You know him so well, yet you apparently weren’t prepared for him to come after you,” Haru says. Akechi practically growls, moving his hand to his abdomen where fresh bandages are covering his bullet wound. Haru ignores him and continues. “Besides, I’d think at this point you’d know not to underestimate us since we’ve already fooled you. The others are probably hiding out somewhere, we just have to find them, then we can go after Shido.”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Akira says. “Akechi’s right, I think we need to prioritize changing Shido’s heart-” he puts a finger up before Haru can interject, “-but we’re still going to wait to do that until Akechi’s bullet wound is healed so he can actually fight without killing himself. Which means we have time to look for the others. Believe me Haru, I don’t like the idea of not knowing what’s happened to them either, but we can’t afford to wait until after the election.”

Haru and Akechi both grunt in agreement. Morgana leaps out of Haru’s arms and onto the counter. “We should start a plan of action as to who we’re going to track down.”

“Well if the Niijimas have any sense between the two of them, and they admittedly have a lot, they’ve gotten out of the city, so we’ll have to wait for them to contact us,” Akechi says. “I wouldn’t put it past Shido to order a full scale lockdown soon though, so we shouldn’t bother waiting past that.”

Haru nods. “Ann would probably head to her friend Suzui’s house first, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” Akira says. “There’s no way Shiho turns Ann in, so I think that’s a good place to start. Kawakami would know if she or Ryuji showed up near the school and would be willing to help.”

Akechi scoffs. “You have a lot of faith your accomplices won’t turn any of you in for the reward money, or to simply lighten their own sentence.”

“They won’t.” Akira says, staring him down.

Akechi just rolls his eyes. “Well, Sakamoto might not be subtle but I assume his mother would help him. We should see if they have any other family in the city they could go to.”

“And then Yusuke-”

“Oh we’re not bothering with Kitagawa or Sakura, are we?” Akechi says.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Haru asks.

“Sakura is probably on her own in the middle of the woods somewhere and we have no way to contact her or even track her down. She’ll either be found by someone who will turn her in, find someone who will keep her hidden, or get mauled by wild animals. In any case we don’t have any way of getting to her.”

Haru bites her lip. “Fine, but why shouldn’t we look for Yusuke?”

Akechi laughs. “Kitagawa’s just fucked in general. I mean, where was he most likely to be when the news went out? In his dorm, surrounded by other students and teachers who’d love 15 million yen, in the school art studio which has the same problem, or in the heavily crowded Shibuya station, sticking out like a sore thumb. Even now we’re assuming Takamaki and Sakamoto had someone around to help them, or at least someone who could get to them before anyone who wanted to turn them in could. Kitagawa though? He’s a lost cause and a waste of our already precious time.”

“The police haven’t reported his arrest!” Haru counters.

“That doesn’t mean he hasn’t been captured. Maybe they're holding out in case they can’t get the rest of us and want to use him as bait to lure us out. Maybe Shido’s goons killed him and they don’t want to report that yet.”

“Don’t you dare say that!”

“I’m simply stating the facts as they are. Kitagawa is unlikely to have avoided capture, and we can’t know for certain where he would be either way. Again, it’s not worth worrying about him.”

Haru balls her hand into a fist, but Akira puts a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Alright. We start with trying to find Ryuji and Ann, keep an eye out for Makoto, and watch the news in case Yusuke or Futaba shows up there. Morgana and I know someone else we can ask for help, if she’s up for it. Then in a week, we gather everyone we can and try to change Shido’s heart. Agreed?”

“If you insist on wasting time, that’s acceptable,” Akechi says.

Morgana flicks his tail. “Sounds like a plan.”

Haru crosses her arms and looks between the three of them. “Fine, if you think it’s best.”

Akira nods. “Good, then let’s get to work. We don’t have a second to waste.”

[joyfulsongbird]

Bruises And All- Chapter 6

Eurydice is still out of her depth in this new place, and especially overwhelmed in Orpheus’ presence. Not that she wants to get away from him, the exact opposite, actually.

here’s the link to Chapter 5!

**

EURYDICE doesn’t like the dark. She decided that long ago, but here, where the rain pelts against the window not too far away from her head and the moon covered by storm clouds, she is more than worried about what it contains. there are no stars, there is no moon, it’s pitch black in this room that smells of that boy. it smells like Orpheus, like old wood and the faint metallic smell of guitar strings. she can hear the wind blowing through each crack of the house, she curls up against herself in this twin bed, pulling her knees to her chest.

she trembles, shivers go up her spine as she tries to contain all of her body heat under these thin covers. her body does not want to cooperate with her, so finally, finally, she convinces herself that sleep is not happening and gets up, dragging a quilt with her along the way and wrapping it about her shoulders.

she doesn’t know exactly where she’s going or why but anything is better than lying stagnant at the mercy of the dark. she’ll just wander this building until her legs are so tired she can’t stand on her own two feet anymore. It's an old technique she’s used for a long time: no bad dreams if you don’t sleep, no being afraid of the dark if you’re sitting at candle light. no, she’s not afraid of the dark, she just doesn’t like it. she just always likes to be able to see her fingers when her hand is held out in front of her, she likes that assurency. that she’ll always be able to be covered in light.

her feet drag on the floor as well as the blanket as she carries with her. her feet are blocks of ice, numb against the scrape of the wood. she has calluses even on the bottoms of her feet, where do those come from?

Eurydice expects it to be dark when she gets downstairs but there’s a faint golden glow flowing out from behind the bar, as she turns the corner, her eyes catch a candle. with wax dripping down onto the saucer it sits on, not even a proper candle holder. they are poor, she can see that, with candles in teacup saucers because they don’t need teacups in a bar.

he’s leaning against the bar, a drink in his hand.

oh my god oh my god what’s he holding he’s holding it over my head my head hurts my clothes smell like whiskey mom’s gonna be able to tell she’s gonna know she’s gonna know she's gonna know she's gonna-

The clink of the glass wakes her from the breath revere. and when she glances towards it, she sees that the liquid is clearly not whiskey or alcohol of any kind. it’s white and thick, more opaque than any cocktail. He drinks warm milk when he can’t sleep... of course. of course he’s innocent like that.

“good morning.” the side of lip quirks up to the side nervously, an attempt at a joke. She gives a small courtesy smile.

“I didn’t think anyone would be awake.” she says under her breath.

“me neither.” he replies, taking another small swig of milk. “mister Hermes usually lets me spend the night down here when I can’t-”

“I can leave.”

“no! no- no, that’s totally ok!” he stumbles to reassure her, taking two steps towards her and one step back. Still one step forward, she acknowledges that in her mind. she waits for her body to move backwards away from him, but she doesn’t. she lets it be like that. one step forward. “it’s lonely, anyways. it’s nice to have company... for once.”

“don’t you have you have your-your- mister Hermes and your aunt and uncle and everyone.” she says, trying to point to how lucky he is. with this family at fingertips length, with people just up the street who would throw themselves in front of a train for him.

“yes. yes, of course, I just mean... it’s different... with you.” the tips of his ears are turning pink, and she feels the urge to back away rising in her again. “sorry. sorry, I was just about to make some tea when you came down? do you want any?”

“uh- yeah, I’d like that.” she itches the back of her neck, feeling strangely warm. tea would be nice, to give her something to do with her body while she stands there in front of this boy. who looks at her... just looks at her. He fills a kettle with water from a sink over against the wall and puts lights on a stove quickly with a match before putting the kettle over the fire.

“Here, let me-” he goes all the way around the bar and picks up two of the stools under his arms and carries them over to the other side. He sets it down, brushing it off quickly even though there’s no dust to be seen. “there, um, have a seat.”

she’s never known a gentle man that she can remember. “how old are you, Orpheus?”

Hermes already told her but she asks anyway. “I’m 19.” he says absently.

“did you go to school?”

“for awhile, I dropped out when I was 15.”

“why?”

It's the first time she’s seen him tense around her. He shifts from foot to foot, nerves rattle through his entire body. He reads like an open book but she can’t quite figure out the meaning under the words. “I- I wasn’t a very good student.”

He's an awful liar.

she scratches the top of the bar with her black nail polish fingernails. the silence falls around them like blankets of snow, covering her body in a fuzzy cold that infiltrates her entire body and soul.

“did... did you go to school?”

“no,” she murmurs. “no, I didn’t.”

he turns around then, concern etched across his every feature. “never?”

something in her rises up. “I’m not stupid, I-I know things, okay? I know math and all that, I can read, and all that, I just never went to... to a building. I’m not stupid.”

“I never said that, I didn’t mean that.” he rushes to say right away. the water starts to steam on the stovetop, he turns back to that as he continues speaking. “Who taught you, then? if... if you still learned.”

she doesn’t want to answer, so she doesn't. He slides a steaming cup of tea to her. He nods and says what she couldn’t get out. “you taught yourself?”

Eurydice nods. shame is laced through her entire body, from the hands that cold the hot mug, to the tips of her hair that brush just in front of her eyes, to feet that are linked behind the bars of the stool. this shame always sits under her skin, always bubbling under the surface, she hates when it overflows into the visible eye. she doesn’t cry when she feels shame, but she sinks into herself. she falls back into habits she hates. she doesn’t speak, she doesn’t make eye contact.

“that’s alright, that’s fine,” he sits across from her, also holding a mug of steaming hot water. “you’re probably smarter than me, I never... I don’t know anything past the eighth grade.”

she wants to drink something stronger but knows he’d never let her.

“at least you have the arts to fall back on,” she says, as if they were discussing their careers. “at least you have some skill.”

“I bet you have a lot of skill,” he replies. “I bet you’re good at a lot of things.”

“depends on how you define ‘good” I guess,” she mutters. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“okay.” he says, stopping himself immediately. “what do you want to talk about? or... we don’t have to talk about anything if you don’t want to.”

she grips the mug harder in her grip, she won’t let her muscles relax because then she’ll start shaking.

he’s getting too close.

if she scooted her chair forward about a foot and a half, their knees would touch. Just the thought of that sends panic signals up her spine, creeping into her skull like spiders. tentative thoughts of just getting up and going. going, until she’s out the door. going until she’s lost herself in a sea of tranquility and she never- if she goes she will never have to worry about touch anymore.

if she goes, she won’t need touch anymore. That's what she wants. That's what she’s always wished for. for her fingertips to not feel what is underneath them. for her eyes to never water. for her body to numb and dull and lose all feeling. she doesn’t want to die, she just wants to live in a world without color. without texture. in a play doh, pillow soft, smooth world where nothing hurts... and there’s no one to hurt. she can’t possibly remain here where this boy resides, knowing full well she will hurt him.

“I-I don’t...” she doesn’t know what she wants anymore. she doesn’t know why she’s here.

“I’m cold.” she admits.

“oh!” he jumps out of his chair. “it’s super warm down in the basement, where the furnace is. we keep a sofa down there, if you’d want to go. it’s really cozy.”

“I- um, alright.” she slips off of the stool, quilt still wrapped around her shoulders. He's so eager. something in her tells her to stop, to not go down there with him, but the other part, the part that watched him drink goddamn warm milk in a bar follows him willingly. with his open palms and warm eyes, she follows him. with a swift look over his shoulder to make sure she’s following, he leads across the bar to a sidedoor.

“watch your head when you reach the bottom.” he warns, before descending into darkness.

it’s pitch black down there. no way.

“Orpheus!” she calls, hugging herself close. “Orpheus, there’s a light down there, right?”

A pause. “Orpheus?”

silence for a brief moment, a moment that lasts too long. where her heart stutters and she’s quite sure something has happened to him.

“the electricity is out, I’m just lighting some candles. one second! you can come down, it’s not as dark as it looks!” his unaccompanied voice floats up the stairs.

it’s not as dark as it looks, that’s what he said. she reminds herself as she takes the first step, the quilt drags at her feet and she lifts it, careful not to trip. Each step is easier than the last, as she slowly walks into the warm darkness below. and as she reaches the bottom, her body quivering slightly in what she might call fear, she realizes that he’s right. that when she looks to her right, she sees him, standing there, all tall and gangly; leaning over a small table lighting a candle. not far from him is a navy blue couch, only big enough to fit maybe three people, if they squeezed together. and in the far corner to her right, the large furnace emits warmth through this whole room.

he smiles at her and waves her over. she does. her body feels much warmer now, with the furnace and the quilt wrapped about her and the fact that the floor here is covered in this semi-soft carpeting. she could stay down here for a long time, this is a different world than up there. with it’s soft lighting and thicker atmosphere. She highly prefers this to reality.

“you can sit, if you want.” he says, gesturing to the couch. “I left your tea up there by accident, I’m just gonna get it.”

“oh-” but he’s gone before she can even say that she doesn’t need her tea. she hesitates for a moment before meandering over to the couch and sinking into it. The cushions are large and soft and allow her to just sink into it, making her feel very small and fragile. like she’s surrounded by soft, pillow-y clouds.

He runs down the stairs, or walks as fast as he can down the stairs while holding a still steaming mug of tea.

“here you go!” he says, handing it to her. She holds it gingerly for a moment and takes a small sip.

“thank you.” she allows a small, tight lipped smile to slip through. and he beams back at her, as if he just competed in a world class competition for being the sweetest boy alive and came back with 1st place. She leans forward and places the mug on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.

she leans back, tucking her legs underneath her, trying to get comfortable. she can’t seem to. everything feels too- too big. every single movement is multiplied by ten in this small space, every word she utters seems to have some meaning underneath. maybe it does. maybe it doesn’t. but looking up at Orpheus, she can’t help a warm feeling pool in her chest. she recognizes it, a want, a part of her wants to pull him close. it’s only an animal attraction, there’s nothing really real about it.

“are you going to sit? or just stand there the entire night?” he blinks at her, as if he really had been going to do just that.

“I- uh- okay.” he lowers himself to sit beside her, discomfort laced through every single one of his movements. she feels guilty almost immediately.

“Orpheus, if you don’t want to sit that’s fine, I-”

“no, no,” he begins, twisting the hem of his shirt around his fingers. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

This gives her a pause. “hurt me?”

“not... not physically hurt you. you just seem... I don’t know, scared, and I don’t want to intrude on your space or anything.” It's touching, even if a little over cautious, that he’s thinking this deeply about her needs and feelings. the thought buzzes in the back of her head: no one had ever done that before.

“you aren’t.” she promises and reaches towards him to cover his hand with hers, or partially cover it. “see? totally fine.”

he gives her that goofy grin again and that feeling bubbles up again, a dozen observations flood her mind. how warm and calloused his skin is, how such a kind boy could be so hard worked. It was always her experience that the men who bragged of all of their hard work and calluses were the cruelest. it surprises her that she can even touch this boy, because when she looks him right in the eyes, she can’t help but think of a different boy. a boy with different eyes, who had no hope but war brewing in his chest. but touching him... being this close... She can acknowledge their differences. Orpheus is leaner, his eyebrows aren’t as prominent on his face, and when he smiles, his lips don’t curl back on his teeth like an angry dog’s. In five years, Eurydice imagines he will already have smile lines.

just a few minutes ago, she was inside her head about how close they were becoming while seated at the bar but down here it is a different realm. down here, they exist in a space without time or movement or touch. there is just them and the warmth and the couch beneath them. she doesn’t feel angry or sad or reckless or skittish, she feels... It's almost safe. almost. she feels as if she could spend hours down here and never want to leave but it’s what exists up those stairs that makes her feel uneasy. it’s what is outside that she fears. the outside where she’ll have to go to soon, the outside she’ll flee to once this storm has blown over. no matter how many offers are made, no matter how sweet this boy is, no matter how much she wants to stay, she is leaving.

That's the thought that makes her place her hand gingerly back in her lap, already missing the warmth it gave. but it isn’t a matter of “don’t get attached” it is “don’t get too close, it’ll hurt him when you go”.

it’s him.

[lassluna]

Swan’s Hourglass (4/?)

Emma Swan had a mission. Find a place to start New Hyrule, her kingdom apparently. It was her mission as Princess or Savior or whatever. It’s going terribly if she’s honest. No one ever gave her Princess or Savior lessons growing up. She really has no idea how to be a Savior. She doesn’t even really want to in the first place.

But when the Demon Ship kidnaps her son and she gets stranded on a strange island with only an old woman and peppy fairy for help, Emma will have to do what she has to do to rescue her son, even if that means putting a certain self-proclaimed pirate captain in his place.

Ao3  FFN

AN: Thanks so much for the support! This story would not be what it is without the lovely @spartanguard​ beta reading, @eastwesthomeisbest​ for providing that glorious cover art( Have you seen it? No? Go check it out!!!) As well as @cssns​ for giving me a reason to finally start posting this creation.

Chapter 3: Isle of Ember

The goddamn mountain is on fire. 

Because of course it is. They couldn’t go to a regular island. The whole island had to be a giant death trap. It was the only island with a seer that could help her. 

She wondered if someone just made this stuff up to annoy her. 

“Come on, Swan, where’s your sense of adventure?” Hook calls, seeing her disgruntled expression. “I’ve been looking for the Isle of Ember forever.” 

Emma rolls her eyes. “Some pirate; this was literally like a few miles away from Mercury,” she responded.

“You do recall that map is an ancient treasure and the whole glowing thing it did, right?” Hook responds. “This place was concealed.” 

She sighs. Of course it was. Emma didn’t understand why she was even here, she should be out looking for that ship. It had found them so easily, why couldn’t they just…Emma didn’t know. All she knew was that the longer she spent away from her son, the worse she felt.

“Sooner we meet this psychic, the better,.” she says simply, looking away from the pirate.

“Of course, Swan.”

“You know it’s Emma, right?” she says, leaning into the railing of the ship.

“I have been informed. Swan just seems more fitting,” he replies, leaning against the rail. ”But what about this child the old bat mentioned before departing?” he asks.

“My son,” she replies. He has a right to know, and perhaps knowing what Emma stands to lose will remind him of how far she’s willing to go. “We were sailing on The Darling , a ship under Captain Wendy Darling and her brothers, when the Demon Ship appeared. My son, Henry went over to it. He thought he could take it; he thought we were right behind him. I heard him scream and tried to go and get him, but I fell overboard, that’s how I survived. It’s also how I ended up on Mercury Island,” she explains.

He nods knowingly. “We’ll find him, Swan,” he says. “We’ll find your boy.”

//

The seer’s house is surprisingly easy to find, especially with it being the only house on the island. It is small and wooden, which Emma finds to be a completely awful design choice, considering it sits at the foot of a not so dormant volcano which, according to Hook, occasionally spews out balls of molten lava.

However, when they get to the door, they find it in fragments, wood chunks everywhere, the small living room ruined with jagged claw marks and blood. It’s quite a lot of blood.

“Scorch marks,” Hook points out as he makes his way inside, “It looks like this seer fought back and managed to vanquish some of these creatures,” he observes.

“And the blood looks fresh,” Tink adds, although she looks like she’s trying not to look directly at it.

Emma just nods. “Then we should see if she’s still alive.” The claw marks seem to lead downstairs. “And I guess the basement’s a good place to start.” Because of course it’s the basement. It’s always the basement.

They hear something as Emma, leading the group, steps onto the basement floor. It’s a shriek and Emma only has seconds to move before a red monster jumps at her face. She swings her sword wildly, hitting the monster away from her. She curses as she sees it in the darkness, stunned but not quite done yet.

It’s bigger than the ones she fought on Mercury. And it’s not alone. She readies for it to jump again when Hook joins her in the basement, his own sword at the ready.

“You know, you swing that thing like a club,” he comments. “Perhaps some lessons are in order.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Seriously?” she asks. “This is not the time for this, and I can sword fight fine,” she insists. He smirks at her.

“Darling, you wouldn’t survive two minutes in an actual sword fight. Would you like to see how a sword is actually supposed to be used?” he asks. She glares at him but says nothing as he steps towards the creatures. They eye him suspiciously, yellow eyes glaring at the sword. 

They shriek before they jump, all at once towards him. Emma readies her sword to try to help him, but she has a gut feeling he doesn’t need her. He strikes the first one and ducks out of the way of the other two, letting them hit something with a crash. He turns, not even watching as the injured one bursts into ash, before giving the next two killing blows before they even recover. 

Emma has to admit that he knows how to use that weapon; perhaps he was right about those lessons… He turns back around, putting away the blade.

“I could have done that,” she mutters, looking away from his smug face.

“But not as dashingly as me, love,” he snickers, looking around. “But are we sure there was a seer here? Perhaps she wasn’t home when the monsters broke in?”

She looks around and agrees; it just looks like a bunch of junk in here. She walks around the place, hoping for some kind of clue.

“Is it safe?” she hears Tink timidly call from the staircase. “I found a torch,” she adds.

“All good, love,” Hook calls. Tink glares at him as she emerges, the torch in her hand lighting up the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not your love! Can you please stop with the pet names?”

One of the walls looks different from the rest, Emma realizes. It’s not as smooth, and it’s hollow.

“You really suck out the fun out of everything don’t you, lass?” Hook notes. “A few pleasantries among friends isn’t going to kill you.”

Emma feels along the wall looking for something, anything that can prove to her what she’s suspecting, that it’s not a wall at all. She tries knocking on it, and after a moment, she hears something.

“First of all, I have a name; it’s Tink. Secondly, we are not friends. We are two people with a common goal: help Emma rescue her son. Thirdly, pleasantries with you might actually kill me,” Tink says fuming at the pirate.

“Will you both shut up?” Emma snaps. They do. She knocks again. She can hear it better this time (without the needless talking.) 

It sounds like help. “Hey can you hear me?” she says louder.

“Can I—“ Hook starts, but Emma shushes him.

“The monsters are gone; if you can hear me, know that it’s safe to open this door,” she says.

“ Is Kayto there? ” the voice says, muffled by the door but clear enough.

“No, just me and my companions,” she insists. “But we mean you no harm I promise,” she says gently.

“Kayto is the only one who can open the door,” the voice replies. “Please, you have to find my friend.”

She looks at Hook and Tink; she knows they’re thinking the same thing she is. The blood in the room—it was probably Kayto’s.

Emma considers telling this person that her friend is most likely dead and that there’s a good chance they’re going to have to blow the door down to free her, but Emma doesn’t have the heart to tell her that.

She doesn’t have it in her to leave someone behind, leave them to die. Or worse.

“Emma…” Hook says. He’s ready to tell her all the things she already knows.

“Ok. We’ll go find your friend.” Emma insists, giving Hook a look. “Will you be ok in there for a little while?” She asks.

“Yes, thank you. Thank you so much,” the voice replies.

 Hook waits until they’re outside to comment. She’s thankful for that.

“You are aware he’s most likely dead, right?” Hook asks.

Emma doesn’t respond. She just trudges out of that place, looking around for some direction as to where to go. She needs to hurry if there’s any hope for this guy. She notices a blood stain and follows it.

“Swan, this isn’t going to end well,” he continues. She doesn’t need to hear it, she doesn’t want to. She doesn’t have it in her to hear how she should just leave this guy behind. “He’s lost too much blood. You and I both know that.”

She does, but Emma doesn’t care. She has to try. She just has to.

Hook grabs her arm and Emma snaps.

“Then go if you don’t want to look!” she nearly yells at him. He recoils sharply. “Go if you just want to leave this guy behind, see what I care; but I’m going to go look for him, I’m going to go find out for sure one way or another, so stay out of my way.” She doesn’t wait to respond, just turning back towards the path. A single goal in mind.

She hears Hook following along behind her. He doesn’t say a word.

Good. She thinks. She doesn’t need his smug attitude anyway.

The trail leads along the perimeter of the island. Monsters block her path but she makes quick work of them, mentally preparing for more snark and comments about how she fights. She doesn’t care if she wasn’t trained right; it’s working. 

He still doesn’t say a word. Emma can feel his eyes boring into her, but she refuses to look at him. She doesn’t want him to say more things about how this guy was dead, more about how she’d fail, again. 

She was a Savior who couldn’t save a goddamn thing.

“Hello?”

Emma jolts, feeling something on the back of her neck. She turns around quickly, nearly hitting Hook with her blade. He curses as he barely dodges.

“I know you’re mad, but you do still need me to sail the Jolly,” he says with a hint of a joke. 

“Sorry, I thought…” she says, avoiding his gaze. She turns back around.

“You thought what, Swan?” he asks. It sounds crazy. It was this damn island, and a whole bag of issues playing tricks on her. “Come on, Swan—talk to me,” he insists.

She doesn’t want to. She doesn’t want to hear any more negativity. 

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbles. They keep walking. He takes up a position beside her.

“Something that didn’t matter almost made you take off my other hand,” he notes casually.

“I said I was sorry,” Emma snaps back.

“Can someone help me?” It happens again, a feeling in the back of her neck. She looks around, for something, anything to explain this…feeling.

“Swan? It’s happening again, isn’t it?” Hook insists, his arm grabbing hers. She tries to pull out of his grip, but he holds firm.

“Tell me what’s happening,” he says seriously. “I can’t help you if I’m left in the dark.”

She pulls away violently. “I don’t need your help!” she snaps angrily. 

Hook’s eyes darken. “Bloody hell, I’m not him alright?” he nearly shouts, his body rigid. “I’m not whoever it was that left you, so stop thinking every word out of my mouth is me trying to leave you, or this Kayto, or this quest. I’m trying to help and your own stubbornness is what’s getting in the way.”

Emma blinks. “How—“ Hook rolls his eyes, taking a step closer to her, getting in her space and staying there.

“You have the look in your eyes of someone used to being abandoned. I saw it the moment we met, but your outburst earlier showed me how deep it ran. Tell me—they said they loved you and then they ran? They left you in some peril; said they thought you were dead, aye?” he asks.

It strikes a nerve deep in her core, leaving her rattled. She can’t find the words. 

“Don’t think everyone is going to be the same. Don’t think I’m going to be the same,” he says sternly, gaze morphing into a smirk. “Trust me, love—you’ve never met a man like me before.” He adds a scandalous wink, making her cheeks turn red.

“Can anyone help me?” It’s louder this time.

“I keep hearing something,” she admits reluctantly, her shoulders sag. “A voice and it makes my whole body tense up, like something dangerous is near,” 

He looks at her calculatingly, eyes tracing over her face. “Well…what’s it saying?” he asks. She’s surprised by his response.

“It's…asking for help.” She wonders if he believes her, or wonders if he’s just humoring her.

“Well…have you tried answering it?” Hook replies with a bit of a head tilt. “Offer it our assistance?” 

Emma blinks in surprise. “You’re not serious.” Hook shrugs.

“Perhaps it can help us find our friend?” he suggests. “Can’t hurt.”

She turns around, trying to remember around where she heard it last. “Hey? Anyone here?” she calls.

Emma doesn’t expect an answer; she honestly believes she’s crazy, or sleep deprived, or both.

“Hello?” the voice calls again, almost as if on cue. 

“Hey!” she shouts. “I’m here; do you need help?” she asks, looking around for anything out of the ordinary. She doesn’t see anything.

“Be friendly, Swan,” Hook encourages with a wink. Emma rolls her eyes.

“ Can you hear me?” it asks. She sees something flickering in front of her. 

“Yes, I can.” It’s a blue flame of some sort. She looks at Hook; it’s obvious that he can’t see it. 

“ Oh that’s fantastic; I don’t know what happened to me!” it says, pure relief in its voice. The blue flame seems to morph as he speaks

 “What do you remember?” 

“ I remember cleaning My Lady’s home, sweeping, and the door burst open. My Lady was downstairs organizing her supplies. I called out to her, and told her monsters were attacking; usually they aren’t so strong, they fear My Mistress. They don’t bother us out of fear of her wrath, but these...these monsters attacked. My Lady got into the safe room, but I had to stay outside to close the door and—“

The ghost trails off, as the blue shape forms a person, short and small in stature, dark hair and eyes but a kind face. He seems worried.

Emma comes to the conclusion quite quickly that she’s speaking to Kayto’s ghost; they were already too late.

“ I don’t know what happened to her. Please—you have to find her and make sure she’s alright!” he insists.

Emma smiles sadly; she doesn’t know what to say, what to do. 

“Are they saying something to you, Swan?” Hook asks. Emma nods.

“Your lady is fine.” Emma tells the ghost. “She sent us looking for you. We can’t open the door; she said you were the only one who could.” He looks relieved. “She wanted us to help save you from the monsters,” she adds. “She’s very worried.”

He nods. “ Of course. The password is her name. Tell her to speak it without fear and the door will open.” She nods in understanding. She wonders if the ghost knows he’s dead, knows how to move on and not stay stuck here. 

“I’m sorry we were too late,” she says. He shakes his head, looking peaceful. His form flickers, his voice getting quieter.

“ Don’t be. Will you tell her not to think sadly of me? Will you tell her I was not in pain? Tell her to have hope, the change we are waiting for has arrived.”

Emma furrows her brows in confusion. “The change?” she asks.

He doesn’t respond to her question, she can barely see him.

“ Tell her I’m at peace knowing that she is safe and that soon, she will not be alone…” The voice fades as the figure does, but Emma feels…she doesn’t know. She feels something was missing. She feels like he isn’t gone.

“Everything ok?” Hook asks. Emma shakes her head; it’s probably nothing but while it looked to her like this guy was finding peace, she felt nothing. Emma doesn’t understand what’s happening, but she feels like peace should feel different from fading into nothing.

It feels wrong.

“It’s nothing,” she says. “Nothing that matters anyway. Come on; I know how to free our seer friend.”

When they return to the house, Tink is sitting on the floor, chatting happily with the seer. Tink is surprised to see them. “Where’s Kayto?” she asks immediately. Emma glares at her silently as she wanted to free the seer before breaking the news. You should have someone besides you when you learn your loved one was gone.

However, the seer surprises her.

“ He’s dead, isn’t he?” she asks. Emma sighs.

“Yes, but I know how to open the door,” she says hopefully. “And I have a message from him,” she adds. Emma tells her what to do and she can hear the seer chuckle.

“ Kayto was always silly like that, making the passwords my name, or my eye color or my favorite flower,” she laughs. “ Lily!” she says sternly and without wavering. Without hesitation, Emma hears the gears shift and the door between them drop to the ground.

“Welcome to the other side,” Tink says, holding out her hand for the Seer, Lily, to grab. She takes it and Emma can see the woman’s face is filled with tears, despite having a smile on her face. Tink pulls her into a firm hug. “I’m so sorry about your friend,” she says.  

“Me too.”

//

It takes some time to clean up as Tink takes Lily to her bedroom to rest. 

“Something bothered you, before,” Hook notes as he picks up pieces of the broken furniture as Emma mops. “When you were speaking to the dead.”

Emma shrugs, wishing he’d drop it.

“Sorry I wasn’t perky,” she says dryly.

“Does that often happen? The dead telling you their last wishes?”

“Not that I recall.” He doesn’t respond after that, seemingly getting the hint that Emma didn’t want to talk about it.

They have the room mostly clean by the time Lily and Tink return from upstairs. She gets a good look at her now. Lily was dressed in dark purple silks, tanned skin with darker brown hair. She was smiling, but Emma could see the grief radiating off the woman.

“You came to seek my assistance,” Lily says simply.

She feels nervous all of a sudden, unsure if they’d made the right decision to come here.

“I um…are you sure you’re up for this?” Emma asks. 

“You brought me Kayto’s last wishes; assisting you is the same as honoring my friend,” she confirms. “Tell me your—“ but Lily is cut off by the earth beneath their feet shaking. 

“Bloody hell!”

Bloody hell is right. Emma nearly loses her balance due to being forced to hug the wall to keep herself standing. Tink falls back on her butt, while Hook’s hook makes a scraping sound in the wall as he tries to avoid falling.

The shaking stops almost as abruptly as it begins.

“Sorry about your wall, lass…” Hook says sheepishly. Emma glances at the jagged marks in the wall. “I have something to patch it up onboard,” he offers.

Lily smiles kindly in his direction. “Thank you, Captain. It’s been a while since the island shook like that; it’s not a good sign,” she admits. “But that is none of your concern.”

Hook quietly makes his way out of the room. 

“Tell me your desire,” Lily says, pointing at a chair, now upturned besides the crystal ball on her table. “And I can take a glimpse into your destiny.”

Emma does as she asks; she’s not one to put much thought into ‘destiny’ and fate. She’s been screwed over by such thoughts before. But she’s willing to give it a try if it means finding Henry.

“I need to find the Demon Ship. There’s supposed to be something on this island that the Demon Ship wants. I need to know where it is,” she states.

“Many have come for this island’s treasure; none have found it.”

“Failing isn’t an option for me.” 

Lily takes her hands, and places them on the crystal.  “Close your eyes.” Emma expected it to be cold, but it felt like ice, sending a shiver down her whole body., She closes her eyes, trying to relax to let Lily work her magic.

“Mom?” Emma’s eyes snap open. She knows that voice.

“Henry?” she exclaims, seeing her boy in front of her. He looks the same—same clothes, hair rumpled and dirty, but same bright and hopeful eyes. “Oh, Henry,” she says pulling him into her arms. He hugs her close, burying his face into her chest. “Are you alright?”

He nods, “I’m fine, but I want to go home. Please come take me home,” he says, tears appearing in his eyes. 

“I will,” she swears. “I’m coming to find you. I promise nothing is going to stop me.” 

He nods. There’s a loud creaking sound, making Henry jolt to look away from her, in the direction she can’t see.

“Henry?” Her kid starts to fade from view, becoming translucent.

“Mom?” Henry says turning back towards her, looking panicked. “Mom!”

“I’ll find you, Henry!” But it’s too late, her eyes blink open and she sucks in a large breath, pulling away from the crystal and Lily. Her whole body is trembling.

“What did you do? Where did you take me?” Emma demands, her whole body is trembling and there are tears streaking down her face. 

“It’s you,” Lily says in amazement. “You’re the Savior.” Her eyes widen with delight. Emma’s widen in horror. “I thought it was...You’re here to save the island, and defeat the evil.” Emma shakes her head.

Not this again…

“ The Island needs you; you’re the only one who can do it,” she says, standing to embrace her, but Emma avoids her touch. Why this? Why this again? “The realm needs you, Emma. You can save this island; you can save us all from this evil.” She shakes her head. 

No. No. No.

“Are you sure?” Tink asks. “That she’s this Savior? What does that even mean?”

Lily turns to her. “The Savior was prophesied by my mother before I was born, to defeat a great evil, to restore balance. Now she is here, exactly when she is most needed. The Isle of Ember won’t last much longer.”

“Then it's a good thing she’s here,” Tink says with a nod. “I’ve learned not to doubt Emma. What does she have to do?”

“Why, climb Mt. Ember of course. Deep in the mountain lies a shrine to the Fairy of Power, but it’s been corrupted by evil—the same evil that has your child, Emma.”

They both look at her expectantly, like handing her responsibility for a whole island was a gift and not the burden it truly was.

“I don’t want to save anyone!” she exclaims loudly now. “I can’t do this. This savior you’re looking for its-its not me,” she insists. “I just want to save my kid. I just want Henry back,” she says in a smaller voice. “I don’t want to defeat some grand evil. I just want to go home!”

Lily and Tink look at her in surprise, or maybe it’s disappointment. Emma isn’t sure, so she doesn’t stick around to find out. She turns around and bolts for the door. She nearly trips as the ground shakes from another eruption, but Emma doesn’t care. She wants to run so that’s what she does. She just runs.

But with no destination, she happens to run right into Hook, quite literally as her body collides with his as he’s leaving the docks. Emma almost topples over, but Hook steadies her.

“Whoa, lass—what’s wrong?” he asks. Concern is written on his face, which is just great. Because if the pirate is showing concern for her then she must really be a wreck. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to find a home for her and Henry, not let him get kidnapped. What kind of a mother is she?

What kind of Savior is she?

“A bloody great mother, Swan,” Hook insists. Emma hadn’t even realized she had said any of that out loud. “What’s this about?” he asks; his hand is still on her arm, holding her steady, keeping her rooted to the spot.

“They want me to go there,” she says in a too small voice, pointing to the mountain. “They want me to defeat whatever evil thing has taken over. They want me to save this whole place and I-I just can’t. I’m not a hero, I’m not the one for the job. I barely know how to hold a sword,” she admits. Her knees tremble at the thought of going in there.

He doesn’t respond at first, but he doesn’t let her go. 

“Does going in there help you save Henry?” he asks. It catches her off guard.

“I don’t know. She said the same evil that has Henry is in there, but he’s not here, he’s…lost.” She knows in her soul that he’s not here; the vision—it felt darker, colder. He was scared; he wanted his mother.

Hook nods. “But going in there lets you weaken that evil, right? Help you find your boy?” She nods. Emma hadn’t thought of it that way; all she heard was another mission, another thing she’s expected to do because she’s the only one who could and she just…she shut down.

But if it’s for Henry…

“When it comes to your son, Swan—well, I’ve yet to see you fail.”

She turns to look at him, watch his eyes, his expression. He’s telling the truth—he believes in her and that feels…odd. A strange warmth settles in her chest.

“Do you really mean that?” she asks in a soft voice, frightened of ruining this feeling.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He says like it was nothing. Maybe it was. Maybe for people not raised how she was, being believed in was normal. “You’re bloody brilliant.”

Emma feels something in that moment; something precious and new. She felt like she could do anything if he kept looking at her like that.

“Besides,” he says, “How can you fail when accompanied by yours truly?”

“You're coming with me?”

“What else do I bloody have to do? Trust me, Swan,—I wouldn’t miss this for the world. Besides, perhaps you’d accept a sword lesson or two on the way?”

[witchcraft-in-wonderland]

Weeping Beauty(Pt.3)

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

Roman awoke the next morning to Virgil curled up against him, shivering slightly.

"Virgil? What's wrong? Are you alright?" Roman ran his fingers across Virgil's face, worry growing in his eyes.

"Everythings- c-c-cold," Virgil mumbled, pressing close into Roman's chest.

"Oh Vivi dont worry, I'll get us more blankets, we can sleep in it'll be alright," said Roman. Virgil whined as he got up, but settled slightly as Roman draped the covers back over him.

"Good morning Roman, is Virgil not awake yet?" Logan said, he was sitting in Remus' lap, the latter leaning lazily on his shoulders, clearly half asleep.

"He is, but he's cold, I'm getting some more blankets and we're having another off day, I might check to see if somethings off with the AC in our room," Roman replied as he walked back past them with at least three comforters in his arms. He lay them out on the bed and buried himself under alongside Virgil.

"It'll be alright Vi, you'll be better tomorrow I'm sure of it," said Roman, planting a kiss on Virgil's cheek.

"R-Roman- warm," was all Virgil could seem to get out. He pressed his lips back against Roman's, wrapping his arms around Roman's neck and pulling himself closer. Roman held Virgil by his waist, it felt like trying to hold onto a block of ice. Even Virgil's lips were cold, as though he'd been in a snowstorm merely seconds prior.

"Shhh, Virgil it's ok, you're going to be ok, I'll get Patton to make some soup, he's good at that, that'll warm you up," Roman turned to the other side of the bed to grab his phone, he felt Virgil burrowing into his back and swinging his own legs over Roman's, as though he were a koala, and Roman a tree. He texted the request to Patton, careful with his wording so as not to distress anyone else in the house. Once he'd gotten a response he went back to coddling Virgil, running his hands through his hair and pressing soft kisses all across his face.

When Patton finally arrived with what Roman hoped would be Virgil's cure, Roman left the room to check for something wrong with the vents, but he found nothing.

The next day Virgil was still freezing to the touch, though now it was only in some places, in others he was so hot it was as if his skin had burst into flames. It was torture for Roman to watch him suffer like this. Logan had at first said it must have been a fever, yet every time they checked Virgil seemed to have a normal temperature. No doctor would answer their calls and every time they went to an office they seemed to be closed.

"Oh Vivi my poor emo nightmare I'm so sorry, shhh, it'll be ok, I'll fix this somehow I promise," Roman said, pressing his forehead to Virgil's, no matter if it hurt to touch. He wiped the tears away from Virgil's eyes, clenching his own shut to prevent himself from crying as well.

This temperature changing went on for nearly two months, Roman having to issue announcements at Virgil's request that no art or writing would be posted for personal reasons. Roman searched through every medical book in the library, pleading that one might have the answers he needed.

"Please please please have something! Anything! I cant see him like this anymore please!" He begged nearly every librarian in the city to give him some kind of information, but none seemed to have any answers.

Virgil's condition only seemed to worsen, soon he was coughing up liquids even Logan couldnt identify, ones that changed color based on what they were in contact with, that foamed and bubbled at random times, sometimes just regular clear water.

Still, no one had any clue what was going on with him, not even the alternative doctors nor those that were more in tune with "magic" or "unnatural" maladies that Roman had asked for help. It was as though this were completely new, or that, if it wasnt, everyone had forgotten it had ever existed.

Roman went over the information in his mind, everything he and Virgil had ever done in the days leading up to the sudden illness, and his mind landed on one thing.

Standing at the steps of Eli's apartment, Roman could feel a chill racing it's way down his spine.

"Why hello Roman, what brings you back here?" Eli said as he opened the door, there was another boy leaning his head on Eli's shoulder, with silvery hair and red eyes.

"What did you do to Virgil." Roman stated, trying to keep the growl in his voice low.

"Oh? Something wrong with him? I never noticed," Eli said, a faint smirk crossing his face.

"Dont give me that look! I've heard you talking about curses and diseases before! I know you did something to him!" Roman said, clenching his hands into fists to keep them from shaking.

"Oh Princey you poor dear, whatever's wrong with Virgil I had nothing to do with it! You must be going mad with grief or something," Eli said, Evan let out a soft chuckle.

"TELL ME. WHATS WRONG WITH HIM." there was no hiding the malice in Roman's voice now, he puffed his chest out, closing the space between himself and Eli, glaring so intensely he almost hoped it might turn the two boys into stone.

Eli looked less than impressed. "If you want to know what's wrong with him, I suggest you ask an even older friend," Eli said, his eyes glinting in the light. He slammed the door in Roman's face, leaving the red-haired man to ponder the words.

Virgil didnt respond to much anymore, at this point in his illness vines had begun to grow from spots on his body, his eyes, mouth, there were even leaves poking their way out of his arms and legs.

Roman had had enough of it, he'd finally worked out Eli's hint, and this was all going to end tonight.

The stories Roman and Remus' mother had told them passed through his head all the way down the stone pathway in the woods. But he didnt care. He remembered different stories now, the tales Eli had told about the dragon witch, about how easy it was to get her to trust you.

Virgil was dying, and Roman had a dragon to slay in his place.

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

Tag list:

@nerosdayinhell

@official-lucifers-child

@meowthefluffy

@spooky-scary-virgil

@misunderstoodshadowling

@lovesupernova25

@riverraysong

[kimtanathegeek]

Two Brothers, Many Paths - Ch 25 & Undertale 5yr Anniversary

Two brothers, many paths

Hand in hand, they mourn their past

 -

Torn from home,

trapped underground

Hiding, fleeing,

scared to be found

 -

Two brothers, many paths

Side by side, they grew up fast

 -

The eldest grins.

“We’ll be fine, brother.

No matter what,

we have each other.”

 -

Two brothers, many paths

Hand in hand, they’ll always last

---

To commemorate Undertale's 5th year anniversary and the 25th chapter of "Two Brothers, Many Paths", I drew and wrote this. Art and poetry are not my strong suit, and I wish I could have done that picture justice, but I hope you guys like it! :)

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, UNDERTALE! Here's to another 5 awesome years!

Guys, thank you so much for reading "Two Brothers, Many Paths"! I can't believe we're at 25 chapters already!!!

Thank you for reading, for your likes, for your comments, and for your reblogs! It means so much to me to know that you guys are enjoying my story, because I absolutely adore writing it.

There's still so much more to go for Sans and Papyrus, so don't worry, we're not even CLOSE to coming to the end!

Thanks again, I appreciate you all! :)

—

Undertale copyright Toby Fox

Story and original characters by me, Kimtana

Please do not use without both permission and credit.  

Read below, or read it on AO3 here.  

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The thin hen shopkeeper was sitting behind the counter, knitting and humming as Sans approached. When she saw him from the corner of her eye, she laid her work on the counter and smiled at him.

“Good afternoon,” she said warmly, then furrowed her brow, raising her index primary feather to the side of her beak as she looked up into space. “Or is it ‘good evening’? Hmm....” She shook her head, then gave a shudder, ruffling her sooty grey feathers. “I don’t know, it’s so hard to tell time anymore without the sun.... Anywho—Good day!”

Sans grinned, nodding to her. “Good day, miss.”

“Is there anything I can help you find?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.

“Oh, no,” he answered. “I’m just looking to see what you have.”

She gave a gentle smile. “Ok, then. Please let me know if there’s anything I can help you with.”

Sans nodded politely again, and looked up at the shelves on the left of the shop.

There were so many different kinds of things—some items similar to those found in the other shops, and other products he had not seen sold elsewhere in the market. There were beautifully crafted pottery cups, vases, bowls, plates, and teacups, medicinal salves and bandages, candles of various heights and thicknesses, aprons for different needs, tin boxes with and without illustrations on them, gloves for work and for warmth, and so many other items in between. He picked out a small pot holder—they’d need one now that they finally had a pot—and a bar of glycerin soap that smelled of cherries.

In front of the counter were four crates sitting on two large chests. The crates were filled with old books, sheets of parchment made of wood pulp, fabric fibers, or flower petals, and scrolls with useful information such as measurement conversions for cooking, identification of edible and poisonous plants, and even lists of difficult words with their definitions.

Seeing the paper reminded Sans of the bits of parchment he had been aching to use.

“Excuse me, miss,” he said, standing up straight to look over the counter.

The hen stood up, her knitting still in her wings. “Yes, dear?”

Sans saw that she was making a multicolored sock. “Ooh, that’s really good!”

She smiled. “Aww, thank you. I knit things for the orphans, the poor, and the wounded soldiers.”

Sans’ mouth dropped in awe. “That’s really nice of you to do that. I’m sure they love them.”

“I hope they do,” she said, her smile waning as she looked down at the half-finished sock. “It’s not much, and they’ve already gone through such incredible hardships.” The grip on her needles tightened, and she gave another shudder that fluffed her feathers. “I just try to help where I can, make things useful like socks and gloves for those who don’t have any. It can’t make up for their pain, but hopefully it brightens their moment. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

Sans smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure it does, miss. It lets them know that someone really cares about them.”

The thin hen smiled at the sock, then at Sans. “Thank you, that’s really kind of you to say. Sorry, you had a question?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sans answered, blinking. “I was wondering, do you have any pens or writing utensils?”

She frowned sadly. “I’m afraid not.... They go rather quickly, and they’re hard to get. All of my stock comes from other monsters who are selling me items they’ve made, no longer need, or need gold for more important things, like food. So I never know what I’ll get or when I’ll get new things. I’m sorry.”

Sans’ mouth twitched with disappointment, but he understood. “It’s all right. I’ll keep checking each time I come by.”

“I’ll certainly keep an eye out for you, and I’ll hold any aside I come across.”

Sans nodded in gratitude. “Thank you, miss, that’s so kind of you. I really appreciate that.”

“Let me know if there’s anything else you need help with, dear,” she said, smiling as she sat back down, resuming her knitting.

“Actually,” Sans said as he watched her count stitches. “This is a strange question, but.... The hare next door mentioned that there were monsters who collected food for the poor. If I had some food to give them, where would I find them?”

The hen smiled, her heart warming. “Well, aren’t you a dear. You’ll find the monsters who work on the food collections in the domed building in the northeast quadrant of the city.”

Sans looked at her blankly. “Northeast wha?”

She covered her beak with her wing as she laughed softly. “It’s the only domed building in the city.”

Sans looked relieved. “Ah! Yes, miss, I’ve seen it. I should be able to find it now, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she nodded. “I know that they will appreciate anything you can give them.”

Sans smiled sadly. “I know what it’s like to not have enough to eat, so if I can help anyone, I really want to try.”

The hen’s face fell, her heart breaking for the little skeleton at his admission.

“You’re an absolute sweetheart, you know that?” the hen said softly.

Sans felt the embarrassment burning his cheekbones. “Nah, I just...hate seeing anyone hurting.”

He pretended to be extremely interested in the hand towels folded up in a crate on the floor, as the hen beamed at him, then returned to her knitting, humming happily.

Once her gaze was off him, Sans started looking through the rest of the items, making his way towards the right side of the shop. There were clothes on shelves and tables starting near the entryway for adults, and children clothes towards the middle. He found a couple sets for himself and Papyrus in their sizes, ecstatic that he and his brother could finally change out of the clothes they had been wearing since they fled to the mountain.

At the end of the children’s clothes were toys. There were wooden blocks, plush monsters of different species, puzzles, balls, and other various playthings. Sans was looking at a small, red toy cart with working wheels, wondering if Papyrus would like it when he noticed the basket at the end of the toy shelves. The toy cart fell out of his hand onto the table as he gasped.

The basket was filled with teddy bears—all identical. They had soft, plush, brown “fur” and shiny black eyes. Their little smiles were stitched into their faces with dark brown thread, and their arms and legs were floppy, perfect for hugging.

Sans staggered to the basket, tears rolling down his face, his mouth hung open.

“I-it can’t be...,” he whispered in shock.

The hen heard him, and raised her eyes from her work to look over at him.

Sans pulled out one of the bears and looked at it, turning it this way and that in his hands.

“Are...are you all right...?” the hen asked gently, seeing Sans’ tear-soaked face.

Sans stared at the bear in his hands, looking into its eyes as he spoke, his voice shaking with emotion.

“M-my brother.... He had a teddy bear just like this...back home.... He loved that bear, couldn’t sleep without him in his crib.... When...when I packed food to leave...I-I should have...I should have gone upstairs and gotten him.... But I didn’t.... I was too scared, I only grabbed food, I didn’t even think about his bear.... We left him behind, and now.... My brother never complained or mentions him, but I know he misses him a lot.... My brother lost so much that day.... Our home...his teddy bear...Mommy....”

Sans hugged the bear and wept bitterly into it. The hen tossed her knitting on the counter and rushed over to him. He clutched her, weeping into her dress as she enfolded him in her wings. She held him as he cried his eyes out, telling her how he watched their mother fighting the humans, and how he watched her die. How she might still be alive if she hadn’t seen him and run to him. How it was his fault his brother didn’t have their mother any more.

She let him speak until his words were exhausted, then shushed him soothingly, rocking him gently as he cried loudly from his broken soul. It had been too long since Sans had been comforted like this by an adult, too long since he had taken on the adult role for his brother’s sake while still only being a child himself. Being embraced by the caring hen allowed him to drop the walls of false strength and competence he had built up over time, and to grieve like the hurting child he truly was.

After a while, he calmed down, sniffling and stammering out apologies for breaking down like that.

“No, no,” she whispered, wiping his eyes with her pinion feathers. “Don’t apologize. I know how hard it is to lose someone you love so very much.”

“R-really...?” he whimpered, his lower lip still quivering. “Did...did you...?”

He didn’t finish, regretting even asking such an invasive, personal question.

The hen shut her eyes and nodded.

“I was with my best friend at the market buying food for dinner. The Royal Guard came—tried to get everyone to leave quickly. There had been a horde of humans spotted in the area, and it was unsafe. Someone shouted and soon everyone was looking into the sky. Plumes of smoke, rising in different directions—multiple fires all around the area. I panicked—one of the columns of smoke was coming from where my house was. My friend and I, we rushed to my house with a few of the Guards, and....”

She choked back her tears, her body shuddering as her feathers bristled. Then her tears fell freely.

“My house was in flames.... My friend had to hold me back because I tried to run inside to save my family. The Guards—they went in. They went in to try to find my dear husband and my four precious children.... Wh-when they came out, I-I saw their faces, and I knew.... The next day, the evacuation order came out. My friend—she let me stay with her that terrible night, and then we left together for this mountain.... And now, we’re here....”

Sans looked up at her, his face broken with sympathy for the poor hen. When she finished her story, he hugged her tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry....”

She patted him with her wingtips, then dried her eyes on her feathers.

“Thank you,” she said, straining to steady her voice. “This war...this conflict...it has cost us all so much....”

They hugged each other tightly once more. Then the hen pulled back and put on a warm smile. She nudged the teddy bear, still in Sans’ hands.

“The important thing is to rebuild and comfort those who are still with us.”

Sans looked down at the teddy bear and nodded sadly.

With a deep sigh, the hen ruffled Sans’ hooded head and went back behind the counter. Sans placed the teddy bear and the other items—still sitting on the clothes table—onto the counter.

She totaled the items, and gave Sans the amount. He blinked at her.

“But, wait, miss,” he said, confused. “It should be much more than that.”

“I’m not charging you for the teddy bear,” she smiled warmly.

Sans gasped, his eyebrows raised pleadingly. “No, wait! You don’t have to—”

She reached over the counter and ruffled the top of his head again. “My dear, I don’t run this shop to make a profit. I started this shop to help others out. There is no way I could accept gold for your brother’s bear.”

“Th-thank you, miss,” he stammered, stunned. “I-I don’t know what to say....”

“You’re so welcome,” she smiled as he placed the items in his bag. “And, please, call me Ashen.”

Sans smiled back, shouldering the bulging haversack. “Thank you, Ashen. And my name is Sans.”

“Well, Sans,” she said, giving a shudder that sent her sooty grey feathers rippling. “It was so nice to meet you, and I really do hope you come back to see me again soon.”

“I will, Ashen,” he nodded. “I’m so happy to have met you. Thank you for...for everything.”

The two new friends waved goodbye, and Sans left the shop.

 -

 Sans hurried down the road, looking left and right frantically for an empty alleyway. The city was filled with monsters, so finding somewhere unoccupied was difficult. Eventually he found a small path between two buildings that appeared empty, and slipped down it. Making sure no one was in sight, he shut his eyes, then stepped forward.

He felt the frigid air as he opened his eyes, arriving in front of the shelter. He wasted no time in digging out the entrance, calling to his brother so he wouldn’t be afraid someone was invading the shelter.

Sans panicked for a moment when he heard no response, but as soon as he came into the main room, he saw Papyrus, fast asleep on the bed under several fabric scraps.

Poor thing, Sans thought as he unshouldered the bag and put it on the bed.

He nudged his brother gently. “Pap? Wake up, Pap.”

The little skeleton moaned as he was roused, then snapped awake. He gasped and threw himself against his brother, hugging him so tight, Sans’ bones popped.

“I’m so, so sorry that took so long, Pap,” Sans apologized, returning the hug.

“Pa scared mosters take Sas,” Papyrus whimpered, nestling his face in his brother’s chest. “But Pa did what Sas said, waited here, waited for Sas. Sas okay?”

Sans rubbed the top of his brother’s head gently. “Yeah, I’m ok. I’m sorry I scared you. But...well...I have something I’ve got to tell you.”

Papyrus sat back on the bed, a look of utter terror on his face, fearing bad news.

“No, no,” Sans grinned, waggling his hands and shaking his head. “It’s nothing bad or anything. But, well, you see....”

Sans sat on the bed, rubbing the back of his skull as he dreaded his upcoming confession. He couldn’t even look his brother in the eyes.

“I, uh...went...into...the...cavern...,” he murmured, each word getting lower and more mumbled.

Papyrus’ jaw nearly fell off his skull as his eyes grew wider than apples.

“Now, wait, hang on,” Sans said, his eyebrows raised pleadingly. “Before you get upset, let me explain.”

“Sas gonna leave Pa...?” The little skeleton’s whisper was barely audible.

“No! Of course not, Papyrus! I’d never leave you. I snuck in there to get some food!”

Papyrus blinked, his mouth still hanging open.

“Listen,” Sans urged. He then started partially explaining everything—leaving out the part where he planned this trip for the last month and how he had put himself at serious risk of getting caught. “I saw the carts going into the cavern, and I saw them growing the trees with magic, so I thought ‘huh, maybe they’re growing food in there,’ so I jumped on the cart and found out that they have a huge city in there now, with a market, and I got a whole bunch of great food, and now that I’ve been there, I can just use my magic to go back in there anytime we need more!”

Sans grinned winningly at his brother while he panted after spouting out his explanation in a single breath.

Papyrus slowly closed his mouth and narrowed his eyes. An eyebrow soon started to rise as the little skeleton frowned. He gave an exasperated sigh that sounded more like a huff.

“Sas go in cav, coulda been taken by mosters! What if Sas caught?!”

Sans shut his eyes, grinning wider. “Then I would have used my magic and come right back here.”

Papyrus grumbled as his expression softened. “Sas really get food?”

Sans opened his eyes, then gave his brother a wink. “Yup. A lot of food.”

The little skeleton’s face brightened more, the risky adventure being forgiven.

Sans jumped up off the bed and went to the foot of the bed where the haversack was. He showed his brother the purchases he made and told him how he used his own gems to buy them. Papyrus gasped at each loaf, vegetable, fruit, and item that emerged from the bag. Sans withheld the cookie as an after-dinner-surprise, but saved the best for last.

“And...,” Sans said, drawing the syllable out as long as he could. “You will never guess who I found looking for you in the cavern!”

Papyrus sat on the bed, looking up at him, curiously.

Sans slowly pulled out the teddy bear.

The little skeleton gasped so sharply, Sans thought his lungs would tear. Papyrus held his hands to his cheekbones as his mouth remained open, his eyes brimming with tears.

“Teddy...?” Papyrus spoke his teddy bear’s name in a high-pitched, breathy gasp that cut Sans right to his soul.

Sans nodded, holding him out to his brother. Papyrus couldn’t believe his eyes, slowly moving closer, as if he was dreaming and afraid to wake up. He reached out with a trembling hand and grabbed the bear by the tummy, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“Teddy! Teddy!” Papyrus wept happily, his eyes shut tight as tears spilled out.

Sans wiped his own tears on his sleeves, the smile on his face unable to wane.

 -

 The two skeleton brothers just stared at it, neither of them able to utter a single word or make the slightest of sounds. They couldn’t move, let alone blink, as they sat, dumbfounded.

It was just too unbelievable.

Their dinner was laid out on their little snow “dining table.” They had prepared it together, cutting, chopping, toasting, combining—enjoying every second of their time making their meal perfect.

Their new wooden bowls were filled with fresh salad, comprised of baby spinach, sliced mouseshroom nightlights, chopped reed stalks, diced tomatoes, pine nuts, and crumbled parmesan cheese, all drizzled with an oil dressing infused with herbs and garlic.

On their new little plates were a couple slices of warmed crusty wheat bread, a small hunk of smoked gouda, a few nuts, and several carrot slices.

Their new wooden cups were filled with ice cold water—Sans had melted some snow in their new pot by the fire, poured the water into the cups, and put chunks of snow in them to chill the water back up. While they didn’t need water to survive—being skeletons, it was impossible for them to suffer thirst or dehydration—it was certainly nice to have something to wash their food down with again.

Sans had set down burlap pieces for placemats, folding up some smaller scraps for napkins and placing their new wooden cutlery on top. Nestled under their bowls and plates were the little parchment pastry bags—Sans insisting that Papyrus not peek inside until after he finished his dinner.

They continued staring in silence, the only sounds in the little shelter being the crackling of the magical flame and the occasional growl of a skeleton stomach.

“This looks amazing,” Sans whispered at last.

“Yeah,” Papyrus breathed in agreement.

Sans gave a small laugh of disbelief, glancing up at his brother. “No more hungry nights, Pap.”

“Yeah,” Papyrus looked up at his brother and smiled.

Sans looked back at their meal and sighed happily. “We should start eating, or we will be going to bed hungry again.”

“Yeah,” Papyrus giggled.

They slowly picked up their utensils and started their salads. The two brothers looked at each other, joyous groans emitting from their chewing mouths at the delicious tastes they were experiencing. Then they went at the food with gusto, savoring every single bite.

 -

 Sans was wiping the last remnant of dressing from his empty bowl with his final bite of wheat bread, as Papyrus had picked up his bowl to his mouth, pushing the last fragments into his open mouth.

Sans finished just before his brother, and couldn’t help but grin as he watched Papyrus, his face hidden behind the tilted bowl. His soul felt fuller than his stomach, knowing that his little brother finally had a proper, healthy meal after so long.

Papyrus licked his bowl clean, then set it back down on the burlap placemat with a satisfied “ahh!” He then looked up at his brother expectantly.

“Can Pa open now?”

Sans grinned and nodded. “Yes, you can open it now. I hope you like it.”

Papyrus cautiously opened the bag, as if a fragile treasure might be within. He peered into it and gasped, looking up at Sans. “Cookie!”

Sans smiled as his brother pulled out the large cookie and gave a huge chomp into it. He took out his own and bit into it, relishing its sweet, chocolaty goodness. They both ate their cookies with the occasional “mmm,” the crunching and munching overpowering the crackling of the fire in the other room.

Not a single piece of snow was consumed that night, for their stomachs were entirely satisfied.

 -

 After dinner, they washed their new dishes in one of the buckets with melted snow water and the glycerin soap. They dried them with burlap, then Sans created another bone shelf in the pantry side boulder, placing the clean wooden dishes up on it.

Sans emptied out the dishwater several feet away from their shelter entrance, scrubbing it out with clean snow, then came back inside to fill it back up with clean water. They changed into their fresh new clothes, and Sans washed their old clothes in the bucket with the soap, rinsed it in another bucket, and, after wringing them out, hung them up on the warming rack bones to dry overnight. The feel of clean, soft, new fabrics felt so comfortable and cozy to both of them. Sans then emptied the dirty water from both buckets outside in a different spot, scrubbed them clean with another handful of snow, then dried them with a scrap of rough cloth.

Sans took the little pot that was melting snow and poured it into the clean water bucket next to the “bowl” dug out of snow, which was filled to overflowing with fruits and vegetables. He stuffed the little pot to the brim with snow from the pile for making snow treats, then placed it back on the bones he had made to dry out the pine cones at the left edge of the fire basin to melt overnight.

Once they were done cleaning up and putting things away, they played together a bit before bedtime. Then they climbed into bed, Papyrus making his blue bones disappear to darken the room. Sans pulled up the fabrics over them as Papyrus snuggled up to his brother, clutching his beloved Teddy in the crook of his arm.

Sans told Papyrus all about the shopkeepers he had met and the things he had seen. He noticed that his brother had fallen asleep somewhere during the part where he was returning home. He nuzzled into his brother’s forehead and followed him into slumber.

The two brothers slept soundly with full bellies and happy souls as the gentle winds outside blew swirls of snowflakes around their hidden shelter.  

[thegospelaradia]

Crystal Matrix Basics

Hello my witches, baby witches, aspiring spell casters, students of the occult, and seasoned shamans alike! I'm coming at you today with a brand new entry in my special series on intermediate to advanced sorcery. I'll try to keep updating this blog on at least a weekly basis - if not more often. But, I'm only an interdimensional multifaceted galaxian xenine quantum manipulation nexus in a human body, after all!

Crystal matrices are a component of a much larger school of magic, and one that I always enjoy teaching: the art of WARDING!

To ward means to guard or protect. We do this in the most basic sense a lot of different ways. Someone making the sign of the cross, spitting upon seeing a bad omen, casting a circle of salt, amulets, talismans, gris gris bags, a chicken's foot, eleke beads, a pocket full of iron nails - these behaviors all have one thing in common: they're wards.

My Catholic mother rarely makes the sign outside of church, but when she does? It's a whole production. Spitting to her left and right as she crosses herself, raising her eyes to the sky, and muttering what I imagine is the Hail Mary. There's a rarity to it, because of the severity to it. My mom is in the habit of crossing fingers and knocking wood, and there's always a crucifix around her neck. That, combined with her morning and evening prayers, is typically enough to keep her feeling "warded" all day.

All cultures have their own warding rituals, and it's very likely there is a specific tradition (I find "superstition" racist and colonial) from your own family's culture. If there is? Use it. The magic of your ancestral lineage is always going to be more powerful than a spell you find online.

I've gotten a bit off track, but it's important to realize that all people, from all cultures, and from all walks of life perform some manner of warding magic.

Now, the working we'll be learning today is a bit more complex than the sign of the cross, but as a witch I believe we have more complicated needs when it comes to magickal protection.

Whenever we create sacred space in a traditional manner or cast a Wiccan circle, it's important to remember that these practices are fundamentally seperate from warding spells. A magic circle is a space in which to raise and contain energy in a cone of power. They are NOT circles of protection. No matter how deeply you are embraced by the magick, there is very little chance that a circle of salt is going to "protect" you. That's why we have banishing spells after our rituals.

Why is it important to have this in mind? In my practice, demons and spirits are what we make of them. All demonolators know that just as one might work with the Greek and/or Roman gods - for example - demons can also be part of your pantheon. Not even a very accomplished Magus could cast a warding spell to keep out Diana or Bacchus, and the same goes for demons. At best, a magical circle keeps out all the negative "vibes" that we're increasingly bombarded with.

I have a labyrinth of selenite as a permanent part of my altar - they're great at absorbing EMF and negative energy, and I keep them front and center for just that reason. But, back to demo

Demons are the gods that Christianity tried to eliminate. There's really not much to be afraid of where they are concerned. Working with demons is something best attempted by shadow magi (those who have integrated their shadow selves) but again - I'm not teaching wards that stop demons, angels, or gods. Do you really think Belial or Leviathan can be bothered to pay you personally a visit?

A fear of demons is a Christian concept. The word originally (the Greek Daimon) was a sort of guardian spirit everyone is born with. The Devil isn't the source of all evil (that's capitalism) and demons aren't in shadows waiting to ruin your life. Few things are.

Now, let's get to the magick!

With those disclaimers and background out of the way - let's talk crystal matrix warding!

For this enchantment, you will need:

Palo Santo, Agua Florida, Holy Water, Black Salt, Yerba Santa, or any other purification medicine. (Remember: white sage is over farmed and culturally specific.)

A magic broom / a bundle of tree leaves, esp. from the druid sacred trees.

Copal, sandalwood, cedar, francincense, myrrh, or your preferred incense.

4 quartz points*

A small table

Incense holder

Wand

Athame

Optional: an equal number stones of various types.

Optional: an orgone pyramid, a large piece of vanondanite, a meteor, or a large free-standing piece of selenite/himalayan pink salt

*as these are the only requisite stones, and will be doing the brunt of the work in the spell, choose 4 crystals that are at least 1.5 to 2 inches and well shaped for the task (jamming into the corners of your room).

Personally, I'm not a huge fan of spells that come with long lists like wedding registries. Brujería on a budget is my favorite kind of magic. That said, you should always have purification medicine (I can't ever remember NOT having a bottle of Agua Florida), at least one sacred incense (Nag Champa is a great substitute), and some kind of ritual tool (don't have a wand made of elk horn, emerald, and gold? Enchant a kitchen knife or paint brush. Consecrate a Sailor Moon wand replica. Go outside a stick, hold it up, and shout "this is my magic stick!". You really don't need to drop a lot of cash on this.

Oh, and a magic broom.

Seriously.

Your broom needs to be functional but sole-use. Using the same broom to sweep the kitchen and then your sacred space? It almost cancels out. A magic broom must have a single purpose - to sweep away negative energy.

Your magic broom doesn't have to be fancy. You need not buy a hundred dollar bundle of twigs from Etsy (you can though, if you want). In a pinch, buy a hand broom (not that comfortable) or a regulation size broom from a home goods store.

TBH? I just finished my masters degree so I've had to get very creative with my spell ingredients. Rather than go make an Ikea trip to find a nice witch broom, I gathered a few thin branches from a cedar tree. I've also - when they were blooming - used stems of my yerba santa and basil plants. These work best with holy water, but consecrating is a breeze. Find what you have on hand and use that - don't blow all your money on magic.

OK, now down to the actual spell! Let's go through it step by step.

First, cleanse and purify the room you want to ward. Using either a standard broom or a bundle of herbs dipped in holy water, sweep or swish from the center out - widdershins.

Light your incense in the center of the room. Sit in front of the censer and enter into a state of contemplation. Slow your thoughts. Follow your breath.

If you work with deities, divinities, demons, orishas, etc. - invoke their power.

With a clear mind, close your eyes and begin to meditate on safety - set your intention: "harmful forces: be this your bane. Go ye back from whence you came." Your intention is to block negative energy - not spirits. Most supernatural beings are indifferent to you.

Walking clockwise around your room, place into each corner a quartz point. Whisper into the stone your wish - that no negative energy will enter.

Once you've placed all four crystals, take your athame in hand. If you have a compass, locate the NE or E crystal. Check that the crystal is secure (I shoved mine in the wall cracks) and then touch it with the tip of your athame/tool.

Here you'll need to utilize your visualization skills. Using your athame/tool, draw a line of energy (gold, white, or blue are good choices to envision) from the first crystal to the next.

Repeat this process until you return to the first crystal. You will have a line of magical light running along the wall and around the bottom of your entire room.

Starting at the first crystal, raise a line of magick up to the ceiling. Repeat the previous process.

When you are done, (you should be going up, across, down, back up, across) you will be in a cube (or irregular polygon) of magical energy. Focus on the crystals as you move.

Sit for a moment in front of the censer and strengthen the visualization - you are sitting in an irregular polygon of energy.

With your wand, walk around clockwise from the first crystal. This is where your creative energy comes in - draw (like a light drawing) magickal and protective symbols as if on a wall that sits like skin atop the physical wall. Invent your own mantra to chant. "Ommmmmmm" works in a pinch.

Your room is now a cube or polygon of energy, covered on all sides with magical graffiti. These symbols will protect you. The crystals have become sentient guardians. Imagine, if you can, a spider web of runes and protective symbols stretching across it.

This is optional, and a bit labour intensive, but the next step would be to create a "generator" to "power" your warding. On a small table, lay out a cloth and place in the center a crystal pyramid, an orgone pyramid, or any other large power stone. Around it, either in an ordered or organic manner, place various small crystals.

Once you are confident with your "core," enter into as deep a meditative state as possible. Channel energy from above and below, push it into your core matrix, and then envision beams of the same magical energy from the central matrix to the other, larger one. In your mind's eye, see the energy swirling clockwise from the generator outwards. Your matrix is now powered by a crystal core.

For the next few days, meditate on your matrix and the core (if you built one) to reinforce the permanence of the ward.

It's easy to find crystal matrix cloths online - especially on Etsy. I use a Cube of Metatron crystal matrix cloth - because it's pretty. You can use anything, honestly. The energy and intent are what's important.

And that's pretty much it! Keep your matrix in mind as often as possible. Maintenance is importance so this spell isn't a one time deal. In addition to reinforcing the wards, it also will give you a good indication as to when the system needs to be recharged - from the core outward.

I know, I know; this is a lot. I just hope you haven't gotten too confused by what should have been "crystals in each corner and some more in the middle of the room."

Complicated and long as it may be, this spell has given me a peace I didn't know I could have. As someone with PTSD, feeling secure and safe anywhere is massive. And it isn't just me: everyone who comes into my space remarks on how safe and warm they feel in the matrix. As I said - forget demons and "evil" spirits. Once you're protected from the rampant negative energy radiating from your surroundings, you'll thank me.

And then there's my favorite protection charm - my Black Magic woman.

But that will have to wait until next time, my witches!

-Magus Aradia

[hedwigstalons]

Making Do

Jeff and Lucy set up house together – A short piece for #irrelief set by @gumnut-logic. For @tsarinatorment who wanted ‘Instructions: Unclear (a DIY project)’

xoxoxox

The junk shop was musty.  A smell of mildew from old cushions lingered in the air.  Broken cane chairs sat alongside antique side tables. A veritable treasure trove waiting to be discovered provided you could spot the treasure underneath the piles of rubbish.

 Jeff and Lucille wandered through the dimly lit space pulling out items that looked serviceable.  Price tickets were checked and rechecked.  Jeff hoped they would be able to haggle; his air force pay didn’t stretch very far and with Lucy between jobs money was tight.  A small dining table, two mismatched chairs, a blanket box and bedside units had already been placed in the ever-growing pile.

An excited squeal broke through his calculations.

 “Oh Jeff, come see this.  It’s perfect.”

 He made his way across to where Lucille was moving a set of china dolls off the top of a battered box.  The carboard was dented and the held closed with parcel tape.

 Jeff looked unconvinced.  The unremarkable box bore the image of a fairly plain looking dresser. An early 21st century design from when flat-packed furniture was a staple commodity in many homes.  

 “I’m not sure Luce.  We don’t really need a dresser and we can’t even tell if all the parts are there.”

 “Please Jeff.  It’s a design classic.  I’ve always wanted one of these and they don’t even want that much for it.  You could store your art supplies in it”

 “Ok then.”  Jeff nodded.

 In saving for their upcoming wedding and new home luxuries had been in short supply in the Taylor-Tracy household.  He helped Lucille uncover the rest of the box and carry it across to the counter area.  It evidently meant a lot to her and somewhere to organise his paints and brushes sounded nice.

 A total was negotiated and Jeff paid out for delivery to their newly allocated family quarters.  They themselves would be walking back to the air force base; the bus fare was an extravagance too far when they had a whole apartment to try and furnish.

 xoxoxox

 Lucille peeled the packing tape off the box, opened it with almost reverential care, and started carefully setting out the pieces. Piles of bolts and washers were scrabbled out of corners and placed in neat piles.  Sections of wood were stacked to one side, carefully arranged in size order for ease of identification.  Eventually, sandwiched between two cupboard door fronts, the instruction book was unearthed.

 Or at least half the instruction book.

 The front section of the book was missing entirely. A block of pages was water damaged and yellowed beyond legibility.  Lucille sighed and flipped to the back of the booklet.  It looked like Jeff’s prediction that there would be bits missing was about to be proved correct, despite the optimistic ‘complete’ scrawled on the side of the box.  Not that they could check against a parts list which had evidently only appeared in the front of the book and was not repeated in the multiple translations of the instructions that followed.

 “So, would you rather work in Danish, Estonian or Korean?” Lucille asked.

 “Well seeing as I don’t know any of those languages lets hope the pictures are clear.”

 The pictures weren’t clear.

 It took several false starts, two rebuilds and no small amount of cursing before something even remotely resembling the dresser pictured on the box was produced.

 Eventually, they were able to sit back and admire their handiwork.  So what if one of the back corners was propped up on a stack of books in place of an absent leg, or that a shelf was missing inside one of the cupboards.  It had taken several hours and a lot of creative interpretation but it was theirs.  Jeff had to admit that even with its faults the finished article was pleasing.  As Lucy had said, it was a classic.  He might be the visual artist in the relationship but Lucille had an eye for design.  

 Laying in the darkness that night Jeff felt incredibly lucky.  Ok, their bed was currently a pile of blankets and quilts on the floor, the bedside units towering above them.  A proper frame and mattress would have to wait until next month and the next pay packet. This was the start of a new chapter in their lives.  Over time they would make the non-descript apartment with its blank magnolia walls and thin grey carpet a proper home.  In just three short months time they would be married.  

 Jeff looked at the mess of red hair draped across him where Lucille was using his shoulder as a pillow and allowed himself to gently stroke the loose locks. This would be the first of a lifetime of nights together under their own roof.  Jeff closed his eyes and dreamed of the future.

[shy-magpie]

RQG 146

[Author’s note: Sorry about the long break! I caught a bug and haven’t been able to edit for love or money. I have been writing the live blogs as the episodes come out but I suspect I will have to edit the stuffing out of them to get something that is both coherent and not twice as long as the show. Also I’m going to try to remember to toss a cut at the top of these things so it doesn’t take up so much of the dash etc.]

I love when they go auctioneer because they want to get to the content faster. Ooh reminder that the party have slightly conflicting goals. I almost spaced that Zolf's priority is the info to save the world while Cel is more narrowly focused on taking out the threat to their village. 

Final bets on whether: 1) the timelines are simultaneous 2) its the same room 3) who(or what) is in the chair ~Hamid time~ Another stealth check and I think Alex rolled something secret. I love these nerds, I don't think they even noticed they slipped into the more precise language of math to describe the place, always makes me feel trusted when people don't hide that kind of thing. Bulk head doors are a good sign. Alex might be trying to build up to it but Bryn wants to get a description of the figure in the chair as badly as we do if not more. Full blank-masked male, cables from the chair to the organ. Ben, sweetie, we aren't going to shoot-first-ask-questions-later, or even take that as your serious suggestion moments after you reminded us Zolf is aiming for capture. "Could be another one of the dead bodies" Pardon me while I glitch on the idea that it being another member of the doomed party is the only thing that I can't recall being proposed over the last week. Am I forgetting or did Figgis actually come up as a suggestion but not that? Alex adds a ladder, to save Hamid one of his last spells "Tension, tension, tension" I can't parse how many of them are chanting but who ever that is, know I adore you. I should be vibrating from stress and instead I'm grinning like a fool. Thats my boy! Hamid's spell slots might be running scary low but his mind is sharp as ever, he remembers his potions! Oh dangerous game, but the extra time invisible as he gets closer sounds worth it. Picked up a few things from Sasha. "Think" Alex is actively trolling. The lights are bad? You choose to do that, Alex, put away the "victim of circumstances" tone. Oh the organ! I needed a better description of that. Lydia might be the only one who loves this description more than me. A pipe organ that makes potions instead of music? Bryn has heard of one where each key is an alchemical symbol. I might need to hunt down art for that if its a known pathfinder thing. Hamid recognizes it but is the wrong school to understand this, both by training as a wizard and as sorcerer. The pipes are actually full of various fluids and powders. Yes Cel needs to see this. Thank you Helen! How much money has he spent on this? Where is he getting the money? I need that clipped! (tension chant evolved) Oh hell of a bet Hamid Sasha would be proud. The table is so proud of him. FTR I think that was Ben not Bryn saying "I stroke his cheek", because Bryn wouldn't risk Alex making that joke canon and using it to hurt Hamid. (naturally there was such no risk if Ben made that joke) Cable to the back of the neck, in clerical robes (crap I remember a “Shoin the healer painting”(?) but I thought he was an alchemist? Is this an assistant? Mini boss? Or is he multi classing), a party mask? Back to that theme. Its a prop corpse and its not the same room, I'm going to scream. Hamid don't you dare! Dollars to donuts its going to stand up and be some kind of creepy corpse robot Hamid waves Skraak in Speaker time, Shoin sounds worse maybe off script. ~~party time~~ Oh Cel has to lose most of the beast voice. Never mind! Smaller pencils acquired! I love this description even better the second time around. Oh bless Lydia for giving the fuller description. 55 HP! 14 Con! Comfort beard. Ooh Azu has a potion to make her even further stronger than Zolf. (iirc she had 1 point over him already) Yes he is in fact lawful evil and no he doesn't ever let them rest. Wise Cel/Lydia! I love Azu's auras! Aura of courage sounds especially useful. Yes yes Azu is good, brave, and resolute. Oh poor Zolf can't prep without either sleep or knowing for sure the fight is coming. Cel actually has 59 HP thank goodness! Another hall? Its circling the dome Hamid is in. It better be the same dome! I feel a bit like I'm betraying the party to enjoy the set design when the set is designed to kill them. They go as fast as they can while checking for traps. I refuse to parse that any other way. Oh poor Alex, we appreciate the set design even if the characters don't. Next door has a porthole to look through. Bless Helen/Azu for reminding them to check for traps. Cel can still disable it! It was a hand buzzer? Oh, to waste spells. Missed an in laid wood image of Shoin as a saint. This guy has too much ego and money. Anyone else thinking of that old joke where a guy has to become a monk to be allowed to find out what is behind a ridiculous number of doors and the punchline is you have to become a monk to find out what he saw? Ok it is a good thing its not the right door ~Hamid time~

Alex you troll! I refuse to concede we needed something to bleed to the stress levels. Shoin’s voice officially probably not a pre recording. I love Hamid! Hangs a handkerchief over the corpse's eyes. Poseidon? Couldn't be any god other than Zolf's ex? Ok doesn't seem in good enough shape to be a necrobot, but the organ might change that. Metal chairs sized for the party bolted to floor. I think Hamid is officially having fun not following Shoin's suggestion to sit at the table. Look at the leader in him collecting the paperwork Official connection between blue veins and the simulacrum! Also a spot for the power source Liliana was working on? Red string joke! ~break~ He Acid Blasts a speaker and it pisses Shoin off. Yeah "young man" was exact wrong thing to try. Were you trying to hit his daddy issues? I love one troll and 1 Kobold! Minion this! If Hamid speaks up? Shoin’s sense are fallible, might come up later Hamid is the best! Might die of being the best, but if he has to go its fingers up. Halfling, Dragon and troll, not a damn inch of leverage except what he gets Shoin to give him by refusing to follow orders. Pretending to attempt to comply is so much more frustrating (and better listening) than if he simply went "shan't". The party comes in! A swear! Not really another way to put it. The corpse explodes! Is Shoin the organ itself? A hug! A Cel & Hamid hug! Zolf backs Hamid's play, and  joins in Shoin baiting. Hamid hugs Azu and Zolf! Finally a proper Zolf hug! Cel finally gets to check out the organ. It prioritizes looks over efficiency and isn't just a potion maker. Some of it goes over Cel's head. Cel blocks the outlet. Lydia still thinks slightly sideways like me, and I love it. The cylinders are near boiling. Hamid orders Skraak to safety! Cel tries to hug Skraak, but Skraak doesn't recognize them. Poor brave little guy tried to attack before they can explain. Cel takes chatty!Skraak well and they have another little bonding growl exchange. They get ready to skip Shoin's game and go to the next room. Bad sounds. Fist sized drops of luminous green liquid from the top of the room that don't act right. Zolf attempts open the door to the next room, Hamid sprints towards it. Thank goodness someone wants to live. Natural 1? But its initiative, so that shouldn't hurt too badly right? Right? No effect thank goodness Homing blobs? I am torn exactly between that being cool and not something I want the party to deal with. How many fire balls does Hamid have left? I think Cel is out of bombs, and if we remember nothing else from Kew its that swarms require explosions. Zolf! Its the big brother of the buzzer door and is locked to boot. Azu attacks the goo nearest Zolf. Helen is too wound up to remember how to roll. Bryn and Ben couch her through it in that RQ way. Cleave! More blobs and the existing ones move towards people. Magic missile! 4 pews! 2 at the nearest to him, 2 at the one nearest Cel. I'd say squishy solidarity but Cel is pretty tough for once. Cel shoots the nearest 3? Then flies up 10 feet up and towards Skraak. Zolf blesses the party! Fair Alex! Not everything has to have a mechanical effect. Azu attacks again. It explodes, if Azu hits it it will die.  At least one person should be safe. Skraak! He froze! Worth a shot Ben You'll see? It tries to blob Skraak and isn't big enough to hurt them. Is Skraak safe from collateral damage? Hamid and Cel both protect Skraak. Hamid tells Skraak to use his spear, Skraak runs instead. Thank god he might not die trying to be a hero. Something drains into the pipe organ and the pipe organ attacks! OMG it is a 50ft tall brain soup drinking electric monster! Yes Ben! Perfect! Shoin Mr Ceiling-ed himself theory has player buy in! Bye! Also I will eat my hat if the drop blobs aren't able to merge into something more dangerous.

[thecomicsnexus]

Dreams of Stone

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES #27 NOVEMBER 1989 BY MICHAEL DOONEY

SYNOPSIS (FROM TURTLEPEDIA)

As the issue begins, Donatello's dreams are being disturbed by a disembodied voice, questioning the distressed Turtle about how he can sleep while the Voice's granddaughter is struggling. On the following page we find ourselves inside of Don's dream, where he sits as a giant upon a mountain in the forest. By the mammoth Turtle's side is an equally gigantic Native American chief, who floats cross-legged in the sky.

"W-what?" Don asks.

The Chief continues, "Well, are you listening little shellback? The Spirit is everywhere! Can you hear it in the rivers? Do you feel it in the wind? Tell me, can you hear the wind in your city? Or are you made of stone... made of brick and steel... man made... like him!"

We then see an even larger muscled, caped monster in battle with a beautiful Native American woman.

"Complete Carnage!" Don shouts.

"And my granddaughter, who you call Radical." finishes the apparition. The two first appeared in Tales of the TMNT #5.

As Donatello grabs his bo and prepares to assist Radical, the Chief continues, "She is proud. The darkness seeks to consume her... it is strong here in dreams. She fights the evil one alone. They are bound together... they will know no peace. I thought you might want to help, little warrior, but here you must be bigger..."

Don rushes to assist Radical, and his size increases until he's as big as the two opponents. Donatello leaps into the fray...

And crashes onto Leo's bed, awakened from the dream (as are the rest of the guys).

Meanwhile, Complete Carnage and Radical are both lying stunned on the ground - apparently the Turtles' shared dream had far-reaching effect! CC decides it's time for him to go and he leaves a very weak Radical behind as he melts into the road and disappears.

The TMNT report their dream to Splinter, who states that it is a powerful omen. The Sensei also reveals that he also had a dream, a vision of great peace and great destruction... as well as a giant, neon buffalo!

Leo remembers that Casey had mentioned a neon buffalo, so the guys head out to search for the clue. The Turtles head to an abandoned and dilapidated "Indian Goods" store near Buffalo Rock, in the middle of nowhere, where they find an old sign in the shape of a buffalo that was once outlined with neon lights. They also find Radical sitting in deep meditation. Once Radical is alerted to the Turtles' presence, she asks Don if he's a Dream Walker. Don tells her that it was her grandfather that brought him to her, and Radical states that her granddad was a powerful shaman who has been dead for ten years.

Meanwhile, Complete Carnage emerges from the road in the nearby city of Springfield. As he walks the streets contemplating what havoc he'll wreck, he spots an advertisement in a store window for "Radical price cuts!" which angers the villain and he smashes the window out, screaming that Radical haunts him wherever he goes.

Back in the woods, Radical performs a Native American ritual in attempt to get some answers from the spirits. Radical tells the spirits of Complete Carnage, how he draws his power from man-made structures of rock, and how the changes that the white men have made to the landscape power her enemy. The air spirit, Wakinyan Tanka, answers Radical's call and tells her that no matter the strength of her enemy, she must remember her own - and then the thunderbird flies off. Radical then tells the TMNT that they must draw CC back to this spot, as its power will hold him. They'll be able to lure the monster to their location through the dream realm.

Complete Carnage is stumbling through the sewers of Springfield, tired but fearing sleep, as he knows that Radical will attack him in his dreams. As CC grumbles about how he wants to crush Radical out of his life, he drifts off to sleep...

The TMNT offer their assistance, but they ask the lady to give them some background information, so Radical explains her origin to the Turtles. She insists that she's not a super-hero, as her powers did not originate from radioactivity or lightning. She tells of how when she was a girl, her grandfather brought her to this very spot and taught her the importance of the local beavers, who were the children of the Great White Grandfather Beaver. The shaman was honored to have the beavers set up their home in his locale. When Radical told the story to a local boy who did some chores for her granddad, the kid attempted to kill one of the animals by throwing a rock at it. Radical was able to block the missile, and the boy became her enemy. Legend states that there is a giant totem pole that holds up the world, and that the Great Beaver is at its base, gnawing the wood whenever he is angered. Radical believes that the evil spirits cursed the boy that day and chose him as their avatar, turning him into Complete Carnage. Likewise, the good spirits chose Radical to fight for the side of right... so the two are constant and ancient foes. Radical has been given the powers of the great Thunderbirds, she can fly and manipulate the clouds, while Complete Carnage holds influence over all that is man-made.

Radical then explains that she has done her best to battle CC in the Dreamscape, in effort to prevent damage to the earth... but Carnage is growing stronger and wiser in his abilities, so the fight looks like it will be brought to the real world. She then disappears, telling the guys that she'll be bringing Complete Carnage back with her when she returns.

Radical travels to the Dreamscape and finds CC quickly, and taunts him into chasing her to the spot where the Turtles are waiting. A long battle ensues and Complete Carnage seems to have the upper hand. Donatello works frantically carving symbols into the power-drenched earth, attempting to help Radical win the lop-sided fight. CC grabs Radical and pulls her towards the pavement... Radical cries out to Don to remember the Coyote. Don has a revelation, "That's it! Coyote the Trickster!" and he quickly scribes a symbol into the ground, just as both CC and Radical disappear into the road! As Raph admonishes Don for failing, Leonardo notes that the blacktop is turning into water...

Radical bursts up from the street, which has suddenly become a river! She then captures Complete Carnage with a giant fist made of stream water, which pulls the beast to its depths. Carnage struggles but cannot break the water-fist's grasp. A stunned CC cries out - he doesn't understand what happened - he could have sworn the road was made of rock. As he realizes that he's been duped, he evaporates into the water and disappears... and the entire stream also drains away to leave a dry and empty riverbed behind.

Radical explains that the Coyote has an odd sense of humor, so things may not be as they seem - but it looks like the great spirit changed the rock to water just as Carnage was attempting to absorb its power into himself, thus causing him to become water and dispersing his atoms, perhaps for good.

Later we see Donatello seated alone on Buffalo Rock, which overlooks a lake. Raph approaches and tells Don that they need to get going. As Donatello prepares to leave, he hears the old shaman's voice once again.

"Tell me, little shell-back... tell me what you hear..."

Just then Radical flies overhead to say goodbye and thanks.

Donatello looks to the clouds, smiles, and answers the shaman, "I hear the spirit of the wind!"

REVIEW

Michael Dooney played with these characters before and because of all the revisionism going in comics at the time, he thought it was a good idea to go in a different path with them. The result is up to anyone to figure out, but to me, it didn’t make the story more appealing. I still find stories where the ninja turtles merely witness events to be boring.

I am ok with guest characters in the book, it’s just that for some reason, they seem to take the turtles out of the spotlight. And that rarely works for me.

Dooney, however, does a great job in the art, giving the turtles that indie tone that works so well for them.

This story is canon, by the way.

I give the issue a score of 5.

[princess-faelivrin]

It’s a very abridged list of characters, BUT I wanted to make a post about my interpretations of some of the CoH characters despite the fact that Nobody Asked. Apologies in advance for 100000 blocks of text and yelling. 

TÚRIN

Call it projecting, ‘cause I guess it is, but Túrin has always been half-Asian in my head, in terms of appearance. I don���t know if I do a good enough job of showing it in my art, but Morwen reminds me of my Taiwanese mom and Húrin of my white-passing dad, so my Túrin takes after his mom. He’s stated to have grey eyes, so grey eyes he will have, but I tend to draw them dark enough that they almost look black. Aside from that, he’s tallish with unruly also-almost-black hair and a tendency to wear dark colors, which... might also be projection except for the tall part. It is what it is. 

Anyway, personality-wise... I mean this with all the love in my heart, but Túrin’s a dumb emo. Actually I partially take that back-- he’s a smart emo, smart and charismatic enough to be a natural leader with a good head for battle, but a ridiculous emo nonetheless. 

As stated in the Childhood of Túrin, he was kind of a weird kid, too old for his age and slightly unsettling, with a quick temper and an ability to hold grudges, but he cared deeply for the feelings of those around him and had a strong protective instinct for his little sis Lalaith. He’s also shown to have a leaning towards pity throughout his life, for anyone hurt or sad or at a disadvantage, which is really sweet and kinda makes me want to cry. 

Later on, Túrin is clearly pretty impulsive and can be ruled by anger, like when he smacked Saeros in the nose with a cup (which is valid) and lashed out at Beleg when he tried to give him bread. He felt bad about that second one pretty quickly, but I think it’s mentioned a couple times throughout CoH that people are scared of Túrin because of how quickly his mood can go south. 

On the other hand, despite the fact that he keeps directly and indirectly killing them, Túrin actually does really love his friends. Obvs he loves Beleg, and he loved Sador and probably Nellas too, and during the Nargothrond chapter he tries his best to look after Gwindor and Finduilas and try to figure out what’s making both of them so damned sad all the time. He fails, of course, because he’s too oblivious to notice the romantic tension so thick you’d have to use Gurthang to cut it, but he tries and that’s what counts. 

BELEG

I think it might just be because of fanart, but Beleg as I see him has silver hair. Between Beleg and Mablung, the consensus seems to be that one of them has dark hair and the other silver, so my Beleg is the silver one. I have actually no idea what color his eyes are, though. Hazel? Who knows. He’s taller than Túrin, that’s for sure, with long legs and broad shoulders. I like drawing him with a little white flower pin on his clothes. 

He seems to be a pretty cheerful dude, probably the most cheerful in all of CoH, which is good for him, I guess. He laughs when the outlaws see him and go “oh shit, who is that?” and lets them be in suspense for a second or two before going “haha, sike, it’s me! Beleg! I have food for y’all starving dudes.” Thus, he’s a good foil/companion to Túrin’s depressing nature and his death removes a lot of the scant happiness in Túrin’s life. 

Something I love about Beleg is that he’s very forgiving and just like... a ridiculously nice person for the situation. Beleg doesn’t hold anything against Túrin, doesn’t hold anything against Andróg either (which is pretty impressive,) and immediately decides to give Gwindor lembas and take him along for the ride after finding him under a tree in the forest. 

The big important thing to Beleg’s personality, imo, is that he’s very loyal (to Túrin specifically.) Despite being told it’s a dangerous idea, he goes and looks for Túrin in the wilderness, and even Thingol is well aware he won’t be stopped. It also outright says that where Túrin is concerned, Beleg “yield[s] to his love against his wisdom” to be with him. He’s straight up referred to as the most steadfast of friends, which is really sad because it’s like a sentence after he dies, but there it is-- Beleg is a good friend and a loyal one. 

TÚRIN’S FAMILY

I already mentioned the fact that Túrin’s family reminds me a lot of mine, which definitely influences my perception of them, but anyway: 

Morwen is a fairly angular lady, who has dark dark hair pulled into a chopstick bun behind her head and a pair of raven-feather earrings that gleam in low light. She’s the parent that Túrin got his unsettling edgy aura from, and her Displeased Face is enough to scare any intruder out of her house. She loves her kids and her husband, but she’s stern so sometimes it’s hard to tell. 

Húrin is the neighborhood guy who knows everyone and who everyone knows in return. He’s kind of a square-looking blond guy, like Van Hohenheim from Fullmetal Alchemist except happier and more of a jock. He apparently can play the harp, which is cool, and he probably has lots of stories from being out and about with the elf-host. He loves his kids and his wife and likes to joke around sometimes with Túrin because he’s so straightforward and less inclined to humor. 

Niënor outstripped her parents and her brother in height, and ended up the tallest of the family. She has her dad’s blonde hair, and is slightly more square shaped than her mom or her brother. She’s also half-Asian, but you have to squint. She doesn’t fight like her brother, and is acutely aware of the Túrin-shaped hole in her mother’s life and heart and the matching shadow cast over her own life. However unlike Túrin she is in some ways, she has the same occasional fiery stubbornness and penchant for anguished theatrics, albeit on a smaller scale. 

Lalaith... poor kid. She was charming and cute but didn’t last long. 

MABLUNG

My Mablung has wavy-ish dark hair in a similar style to Beleg’s, and has a slightly less willowy build, for lack of a better way to compare them. He’s got dark eyebrows to better express how utterly unimpressed he is with whatever dumb shit is going down in Doriath, and probably a few not-too-flashy piercings. He’s very dignified in posture and appearance, but not like... pretentious, because he fights people in the woods on a regular basis. 

Out of Túrin’s friends, Mablung is probably the most akin to the Responsible One, with Gwindor at a close second. He’s less willing than Beleg to drop everything for a friend, and requires more evidence to support it, but he’ll still do it after thinking it over and will probably beat himself up about not having gone for it sooner. 

On that point, poor guy takes too much onto his own shoulders and ends up feeling shitty and miserable when he fails at something that he could not have possibly succeeded at. This is demonstrated in terrible, heartwrenching fashion throughout the story, when Mablung asks Thingol to fire him because he lost Morwen and Niënor, to which Thingol says “what no, you’re too good, we need you” and Melian says “don’t feel too bad about it, ok?” (he ignores the last part and continues to feel bad enough about it that he looks for Niënor for Literal Years.) Also on that topic is the scene in which Mablung sees Túrin dead and stands there like some sort of Beleriand Benvolio, realizing that all his friends are dead and that “thus with words have I slain one that I loved.” 

NELLAS

I almost forgot her, can you imagine? You probably can, because she’s a minor character who disappeared like a third of the way through the story, but let’s not talk about that. She’s a forest girl, so I imagine she likes to wear a lot of nice leaves on her head, and/or make a bunch of flower crowns and then drop them in fright if anyone happens to find her in the process. She has dark brown hair and big, curious eyes, and is short and slight even by human standards. 

Nellas has... hardcore dirt lesbian energy. It’s implied that she had a crush on Túrin, but honestly, I doubt that very much. In my head, she and Túrin were just really close pals, and she taught him about how to live in the woods and how to rescue worms from the rain. Her moment of glory, basically, is going into the city once and immediately proceeding to freeze up from anxiety in front of the king. Is that a mood? Yeah and I love her. I hope she’s okay.  

ANDRÓG

I realize he’s another minor character, but he is a very compelling one to me specifically, so. As I imagine him, he’s a fairly lean young dude with a hungry-wolf look about him, which is sort of a mixture of desperation, suspicion, and plain snappishness. He has dark eyes and hair a little darker than what could be called ‘mousy brown,’ tied back in a short ponytail. He also has a frequent scowl and generally is a little bit scary, although he isn’t exactly physically imposing in the ‘tall and buff’ sense. 

There really is no other way to describe Andróg’s personality than ‘he’s a particularly mean tsundere.’ He’s just... full of rage and repressed Feelings for Túrin and possibly also Beleg. Unfortunately, these feelings manifest in Being A Bitch And Generally Not Nice. It takes him so long to admit he can’t actually hate Beleg that he literally just up and dies after doing one (1) nice thing. Why do I like him? It’s anyone’s guess tbh. 

GWINDOR

Ah... yes...... the character who nobody talks about but who I love with my whole heart and soul. To start off with appearance, the only canon things about what he looks like is that he has dark hair and looks older than he would otherwise because torture. Immediately post-imprisonment and during it, I imagine his hair is short, but beforehand and a while after, it gets back to being long. He has a bunch of scars from all that too, and generally has the bearing and amount of grey hairs as a substitute teacher who nobody listens to. I draw him with grey eyes usually, but saw @bisexualturin‘s hc of him having had violet eyes before and I’m kinda in love thanks. 

In terms of who he is as a person, we don’t know much of what he was like before the Nirnaeth, but as I see him, he’s always had a fiery streak and a slightly acerbic sense of humor. Being tormented for 14 years forced him to mellow out some, by which I mean a) how the hell are you supposed to keep your sense of humor after that and b) as shown in his arguments with Túrin over tactics, he’s now extremely wary of head-on battle. 

He’s fundamentally someone who wants the best for the people around him, and who loves both Finduilas and Túrin very much despite feeling hurt and miserable over the fact that his opinion is now worth nothing to those in charge and the sense that he’s not good enough for anyone (much less his two best friends) in his current state. Overall, his dying speech is emblematic of the very Oof Ouch and Complicated feelings he ended up having toward Túrin, namely “you’re a dumbass and probably should have listened to me, but I love you and I am going to try my damndest to give both you and Finduilas as much of a chance at life as I can, even here as I bleed out in your arms.” 

Which brings us to... 

FINDUILAS

Finduilas is sweet like honey chamomile tea and her whole being radiates soft sunlight. In my mind, she’s somewhat round-faced, with really fluffy golden hair, sparkly freckles on tan skin, and a liking for wearing light blue clothes that match her eyes. She smiles a lot and possibly gives off actual light??? Also my heart is full of affection for chubby Finduilas. General consensus is Soft. 

Canon-wise, whether she’s more introverted or extroverted is kind of up to interpretation, as all we’re really given is that she worries about Túrin when he’s out fighting and “wishe[s] not to add one tear to [Gwindor’s] suffering.” I tend to think of her as sunny and gregarious, with way more game than her dad, and with endless reserves of empathy, sympathy, and compassion for the people she loves. 

As a Finwean princess, she absolutely has the capacity for badassery, which makes me very into the idea of Túrin rescuing her post-Nargothrond as per Gwindor’s request and the two of them going on a road trip of doom. But unfortunately, we don’t get to see another side of her in the book. 

I usually just put the book down and cry after the sack of Nargothrond, so I’ll just do one more character: 

ORODRETH

Ok, so Finduilas has to have gotten her Vanyarin hair from her dad, clearly. But since Elves can probably change their appearances based on willpower to some degree, Orodreth’s hair is nowhere near as fluffy, and is a darker honey-blonde than Finduilas’ gold. He’s one of the plainest-looking Finweans by virtue of the fact that he perpetually has this look on his face that makes him seem like he wants to melt into the floor and go back to Aman. Which he kinda does. 

Unfortunately, Orodreth didn’t do much in the story except be a doormat to like five different people and then die, but I still like him for whatever reason. Way early on, before Húrin or his kids were a thing, Orodreth was still himself, aka someone who asked nicely for people to not make bad decisions, and predictably didn’t get listened to. Sure, some of Fëanor’s terrible boys took over his hidden elf city, but what was he going to do? Fight them? No. He’d rather just Not. 

...I feel bad for him. He literally did not ask for Any Of That. 

that’s all y’all, I am so sorry for making you read the entirety of the inside of my head as it has been for the past four months