#organic metal is such an interesting concept so that’s why I keep drawing him

[jadedazemations]

Metalphiles doodles

I’m glad you guys liked the pairing. I’m not necessarily shipping them as much as I am shoving them into vulnerable situations to see what happens. Like I put them in a jar and shake them violently bc I love them sm.

[thiscrimsonsoul]

Meta – Wanda & Vision Having Children Naturally: Pregnancy, Medical Complications, & Caring for the Twins

[ Trigger Warnings: Heavy medical and hospital themes having to do with pregnancy and babies ahead! ]

This meta contains all my headcanons for Wanda getting pregnant naturally by Vision, what that means for her pregnancy and health, and what raising real, half-human, half-synthezoid children is like. I’d like to have some threads with Wanda and Vision regarding the twins if possible, so I’m getting everything written down here for reference purposes. If you have any questions or comments about anything in here, let me know!

POTENTIAL AUS IN WHICH THIS COULD HAPPEN

Without Vision – Wanda has Vision’s twins, but he remains dead. Either he’s harvested and repurposed into a weapon by SWORD as he was in WandaVision, or Wanda is able to reclaim his body for burial, but he remains dead and Wanda, at least for now, is a single mother. I would be willing to write this AU either as Wanda or as another character relating to Wanda if someone else wants to write her.

With Dad!Vision – Vision’s body is taken by SWORD, but either in the early stages of her pregnancy or after the twins are born, she confronts Hayward as she did in WandaVision. Except this time, instead of leaving after she determines that she can no longer feel him, Wanda has an emotional burst of magic (like she did when she created the Hex) that, instead of creating a temporary new Vision, infuses Vision’s original body with the energy from the mind stone that she’s been storing inside her. This essentially restores Vision’s soul, memories, and personality. All that remains is to reassemble him. In an AU where Tony Stark survives Endgame, he could help Dr. Cho not only reassemble him but also restore his organic content as well, which would otherwise have rotted away during the five years he was dead. Or… a huge fudge could be done and we could just say that Wanda reassembles him and restores his organic content herself as part of her emotional magical outburst. Vision would then be restored to Infinity War status, as himself, with all his memories and emotional capacity intact. He can then help Wanda raise their twins and would likely ask her to marry him, which he was planning on doing before everything went to hell in a handbasket in Infinity War anyway. I would be willing to write this AU as either Wanda or Vision.

PREGNANCY AND BIRTH: SPECIES INCOMPATIBILITY AND LIFE-THREATNING MEDICAL COMPLICATIONS

I tend to get very detailed and realistic when I flesh out topics like this, so I didn’t just want to gloss over things and say that Wanda has a normal pregnancy. She really shouldn’t. Even if Vision is capable of reproduction (which my version of him is) and conception can occur, there are a lot of issues with Wanda carrying partially-synthezoidal children. Their genetics would be combined, and as such, their physiologies would be a blend of human and synthezoid. What does that mean for them as far as their health, appearance, and capabilities? I’ll get to that later. But first… what effect does this have on Wanda’s health as the pregnancy progresses?

Early on, the pregnancy is fairly normal, or at least there isn’t enough wrong to set off any warning bells with regard to her health. But as it progresses, Wanda will start to experience metal toxicity and vitamin deficiency symptoms. She’ll have balance problems, she might slur her words at times, she feels weak, shaky, and has fainting spells. Her skin will also become very pale, almost translucent. This occurs because most of the vibranium atoms that were contained in Vision’s… donation to Wanda, eh-hem… have already been incorporated into the twins’ bodies, and now they need more. In the absence of more vibranium, they start to compromise by drawing away other vitamins and minerals from Wanda’s body. Whatever vibranium atoms were not incorporated into the twins ended up in Wanda’s blood and organs, causing her various potentially life-threatening side effects.

The result is that neither mother nor babies are doing very well, but by this point (probably at around three months in), Wanda’s health would be noticeably bad enough for her to get help or for anyone who sees her to reach out to get her medical assistance. Eventually she will be placed under Dr. Cho’s care. Why? Well it was her technology that created Vision’s physical body, and aside from Tony, she’s the one who would know the most about what might be required by offspring of someone with such a body. Tests will need to be done on Wanda and on each of her babies to determine what is going on in their blood, which would then give a clearer picture of what was wrong, missing, etc.

Basically, it is determined that the twins need an influx of free vibranium atoms to incorporate into their bodies as they grow. They also need a specialized panel of vitamins and minerals to grow properly. Wanda, on the other hand, needs the normal human amounts of certain vitamins and minerals for herself, but then also needs to be protected from vibranium toxicity and unwanted substances ending up in her blood. Wanda lives where Dr. Cho’s laboratory is located, and is mostly told to rest as much as possible. The less she stresses her system, the better. Twice a week, her blood needs to be cleaned of any toxic substances via a filtration process not unlike dialysis. She’s placed on a strict diet as well. Ports are carefully placed for each twin that allow for vibranium atoms and essential nutrients to be directly injected into the babies.

Because this is an extremely delicate and precarious procedure to place the ports without disrupting Wanda’s pregnancy or harming the babies, she’s basically bedridden to limit the potential for tears and other injuries. Very quickly, Wanda is forced to confront and overcome her fears of doctors, labs, and needles, which is a daunting task for her. The only thing that gets her through it is the very real knowledge that the pregnancy might fail without this intervention. At this point, Vision would likely still be dead in either AU, and so Wanda views her babies as the last living parts of Vision. She’s willing to do anything, no matter how painful or frightening, to carry her twins to term.

At around 7 ½ months, however… things begin to look grim. Despite the blood filtration processes and other attempts to keep Wanda as healthy as possible, her health begins to decline again. The stress and strain of carrying two unique babies whose genetics and biochemistry are partially incompatible with her own begins to take its toll. Dr. Cho and likely Clint or anyone else who’s been frequently caring for or staying with Wanda eventually need to have a very difficult conversation with her. If she continues with the pregnancy, there’s still a chance it might fail early, but the longer she can hold out, the better chance her babies will have of surviving after they’re born. However, the longer she holds out, the greater chance that life-threatening complications will occur, such as more seizures, strokes, and toxicity conditions. In short, she’s told that she could deliver the twins early and survive, but because the twins are unique beings, there is no guarantee that they will have developed enough to survive at this point… or… she continues to carry them, and she may lose her life. Wanda chooses to continue, because she’s willing to die to give her twins the best chance they can possibly have.

Wanda is able to make it to 8 ½ months before something changes and her health declines rapidly. When she loses consciousness, the decision is made to deliver the twins by C-section. Once that’s done, Wanda is stabilized, and a potential tragedy is averted.

CARING FOR INFANT TWINS

The twins are kept on much the same supplements of vibranium, nutrients, and other minerals as they were in the womb. A powder is basically custom-designed for Wanda that she can mix into their milk. In addition to breastfeeding them, once a day she bottle feeds them milk containing the dissolved vitamin supplement. This ensures the twins have what their bodies need to grow properly. Otherwise, they’re normal, happy, healthy babies that mostly appear human to those who don’t know their unique genetics.

At only a couple months old, however, Wanda begins to notice a few interesting things about her sons, and the reasons why they required vibranium atoms begins to become apparent. Occasionally while dressing or changing them, Wanda notices patches on their bodies that look just like Vision’s “skin.” They’re red, they’re textured, sometimes they’re hard, and at other times they’re soft. The patches don’t remain, but rather they come and go, seemingly at random. At times, Wanda even catches it happening in real time, seeing their skin ripple and change, just like Vision’s did when he was employing his human disguise. The curious thing though, is that the twins are not synthezoids, but neither are they human. Their genetic code, their blood lab results, and various other statistics come back inconclusive, anomalous, or otherwise different than normal humans. They are their own unique beings, a hybrid species.

As the twins grow and become more mobile, crawling around and such, Wanda notices that sometimes the synthezoid skin would appear as a result of impact trauma. In other words, if Tommy hit Billy while careless flailing his pudgy little infant arms, that area of Billy’s skin would ripple and form hard synthezoid skin which is stiff to the touch, like armor. Or if Tommy crawls around and bumps his head on something, the same would happen where he was hit. It’s almost as if it’s part of some kind of defense response in their bodies to armor-up if they’re being injured.

CARING FOR OLDER TWINS

Once they’re older and eating solid foods, their supplements are still mixed in once a day with whatever they’re eating. The older they get, the more the twins are able to control the transformation of their skin at will instead of it just being a passive physiological response. Billy takes after Wanda with regard to his powers, and Tommy resembles Pietro’s with his, but there are indications of Vision’s abilities in them as well. Billy is able to control his density to some extent, and Tommy’s eyes have extra lenses and extended irises that allow him to adjust his vision to better see in the dark, and while moving at high speeds. He can also see a much wider spectrum of light than humans can. Billy tends to take after Vision more in personality, being more introspective, gentler, and being a sponge for information. Tommy takes more after Wanda or even Pietro (which, Wanda would inherit a lot of genetics similar to Pietro’s with them being twins, so that makes sense), being more impulsive, a prankster, and quicker to anger.

In an AU without Vision present, as they grow and develop these abilities, they begin to ask Wanda a lot of questions about the things they can do and parts of them that aren’t like her. Wanda waits until they’re at an age to understand well enough before she tells them about their father. She’s able to find video footage of Vision to show them, and she explains as much as possible about who and what he was. Above all, she makes it very clear that he would have loved them both so much. Billy is very curious about Vision and will sit with a tablet and look up information about him all on his own. Tommy… is a bit more defensive and doesn’t like to think about Vision, because it makes him sad and angry that he had to grow up without a father. The twins are very close, however, and sometimes he watches things with Billy when they’re alone.

In an AU with Vision present, he can teach them about the synthezoidal aspects of their bodies and abilities himself. He is the proudest, happiest, most hands-on and involved dad ever. He explains what he can, shows what he can’t explain, and otherwise tries to guide his sons as best he can… in amongst loving on Wanda, of course. He becomes very much like Westview!Vision as far as personality, just happy and living the dream.

That’s all I’ve detailed for now, but if I think of more, I’ll add it here. Let me know your thoughts if you like! =)

[akillysheel]

TENUOUS.  ( 1 )

Summary:  Cthugha explains a little more about who he is and why he’s there--  besides the obvious, of course. Warnings:  N/A. Notes:  Yes, nouns like ‘Balance’ and ‘Universe’ are capitalised on purpose.

    THE  STRANGER  NAVIGATED  the precinct as if he’d been there before.  He wound his way through tables like a snake, ignoring the curious glances that officers shot him as he passed.  As he reached Kuro's office, the Sheriff was almost convinced that he was the one who didn't know his way around the station.

    "Oh,"   the boy mused, head tilted upwards in the direction of his corkboard.  It was littered with different coloured post-it notes and twine, Kuro’s neat block letters bold against their garish backdrop.   "An upgrade for sure."

    "Who are you?"   Kuro asked slowly, enunciating every word as he stared at him intensely.  Part of him felt that he should recognise him.  Perhaps it was the familiarity that he'd been approached with.

    "My name is Cthugha.  I came from the future,"   he replied nonchalantly, arms tucked behind his back as he looked over the board.  He winced slightly upon seeing one of the names on one of the many sticky tabs.   "You never find that one, by the way."

    "Excuse me?"    Now he felt irked.   "That's a real case, y'know.  This girl's really missing.  That's somebody's daughter."

    "Unfortunate,"   Cthugha said, his tone a fraction softer.

    "She ain't fodder fer yer li'l sideshow.  She's a real person 'n' she's Raku-knows-where.  Y'don't have the right to t'be involvin' her in yer stunt."

    The look that Cthugha shot over his shoulder was cold.  After a beat of silence:   "Her name is Olivia Brannon.  She went missing a week ago.  You found her things in a field directly adjacent to the subway tunnel--  her dorm keys, student ID and textbooks--  but you have no further leads.  You think that she's playing hooky with a boyfriend she's keeping a secret from her overbearing parents--  that she threw her belongings as a student away to pursue a life with him in private--  but he's still in town and hasn't seen her either.  You’ve pursued him for questioning but he’s come back clean as a whistle.  He even has an iron-clad alibi under his belt!  You don't know where else to look, so you trawl through town like a dog sniffing for blood, only to find nothing.  The case eventually goes cold."   A thin smile shaped his lips as he took in Kuro's stupefied expression, impatient and derisive.   "How's that for a stunt, Sheriff Braav?"

    "H-How did you--"

    "What part of 'the future' do you not understand?"

    A thick blanket of silence befell them, and Kuro found himself leaning against the wall for balance.  Just five minutes ago, it had been a typical Tuesday morning.  Now, it felt as if his world was teetering to one side, his pulse an electrical current that thrummed in each temple.  It wasn't easy to bewilder him after all that he'd seen, but this curious stranger had achieved it in a matter of minutes.  How else was he supposed to react to being told airtight details about a case that hadn’t been made public knowledge yet?

    How is any of this happening?  What is happening?  None of this is right.     Who is this guy?

     "I won't waste any time,"   Cthugha said soberly, moving away from the board.  He circled Kuro's desk like a vulture, blue eyes scanning the tabletop with apparent interest.  A finger grazed a half-solved rubix cube curiously.   "I've come for one very important thing:  the Balance is at stake.  I need to fix it.  You can help me."

     "What…?"   Kuro blurted stupidly, mind reeling.   "What're y'talkin' about?"

     "Alright."   Cthugha paused to pinch the bridge of his nose.   "I'm gonna need ya to sharpen up, detective.  I came to you because I know you're smart."

    “Surely y’realise how insane this is!”   Kuro bit back, finding a foothold in the conversation.   “This kid materialises out of nowhere--”

    “Not a kid.”

    “-- ‘n’ tells me that he’s from the future, ‘n’ that he’s here t’restore the Universe’s Balance--”

    “In layman's terms.”

    “--’n’ that he needs my help t’do it.  Ten minutes ago, I was enjoyin’ a cup’a coffee ‘n’ finishin’ the paperwork fer an open-’n’-shut robbery!  This shit is  WAY  outta my professional league.”

    There was a lilt in the conversation--  one in which was stolen by the subtle tilt of Cthugha’s head.  There was a strange metaphysical gravity that surrounded him, one that drew in attention like he was sucking it through a straw.

    In a small, hopeful voice:   “... you have coffee?”  

    “That’s what y’take away from everythin’ I just said?!”

    “I haven’t had a good cup of coffee in months,”   murmured Cthugha, scratching his chin pensively.  Whatever peril the world was in, it seemed to be irrelevant to him now.   “I had some at a diner in a pocket dimension a couple weeks ago.  The waitress was lovely but the coffee was…”   His teeth came together in the form of a fierce grimace.   “... sweet.”

    Kuro blinked owlishly, his mind racing.  Everything was happening so quickly.  He'd had no time to process the other's abrasive introduction, nor the deeper meaning of the things he was saying.  The most he knew of the 'Balance' was that it was a cosmic force that even God's wrestled with.  On the handful of occasions that it had come up in conversation, Raku was either struggling to maintain it or finding loopholes to avoid doing unsavoury things to appease it. Hardly an educational display.

    "How about…"   It was a sheepish start, no doubt, the town-hero more than a little out of sorts.  He paused to stand up straight again, trying to strengthen his resolve.  Get it together.  He's scrawny.  But so is Raku.  He owns the very ground that you stand on.   "... I put on a pot of coffee, and we talk more?"

     "See, now it feels like you’re meeting me in the middle."

                                                                ________

    A sense of normalcy returned to him as he took a sip of his coffee.  The Regular Tuesday vibes are back.

    "What's the verdict?"   he asked as he watched Cthugha peer into his cup.  He found it incredibly odd that somebody who looked so… on-the-cusp-of-adulthood-and-no-older had asked for it black, all but turning his nose up at the offer of sugar and milk.

    "Hm..."   He hummed thoughtfully, eyes narrowing at the dark abyss before him.  Then, he took a sip.  Kuro watched as he paused mid-drink, eyes widening slightly.  After a moment, he began to gulp it down, continuing until his mug was empty.  

     After a relieved little exhale:   "Refill?"

    "Sure…?"   the Sheriff said hesitantly, reaching for the pot and filling his mug again.  He seemed to slow down for his second helping, really taking in the taste of it.

    "Ah…  this district gets it.  So much flavour,"   Cthugha praised, looking comfortable in his cross-legged position in Kuro's chair.  It's frame dwarfed him, the black leather suiting his businesslike approach.   “I’ve found that’s a common trend here.   Huros make good food too;  organic produce, and lots of spices and herbs.”

    "Uh, yeah…"   He couldn't focus on the idle chatter.  He had too many questions--  too many burning queries-- to ask for anything other than answers to them.   "So about why you're here--"

    "Well, as you observed, I can tell the future, because I've seen it.  I--"

    "But how?"   Kuro interrupted, unfolding a rickety metal chair and sitting on it.  It creaked angrily beneath his weight, his six-and-a-half-foot frame not built for its meagre services.   "Who are y'?  What are y’?  I-- I've met Raku several times over and not even he can mess with time--"

    "I'm sort of his foil,"   Cthugha answered impatiently, his foot tapping against the arm of the chair.   "Look, do we have to play Guess Who right now?  There're more important things--"

    "I need t'know how y'knew about Olivia.  I ain’t gonna help y’at all ‘til I know that.  How do I know yer trustworthy?  How can I be sure my own officers ain’t leakin’ things t’outside sources?   I don’t know y’.  How could y’know?"

    There was a tense pause between them, one that seemed to reverberate throughout the office.  Suddenly, Kuro felt incredibly claustrophobic--  as if the sound bouncing off of the walls was drawing closer and closer.  He watched as Cthugha sighed, drawing his mug to his lips for a final time before setting it down in his lap.

    "Fine.  I'll tell you.  Once.  So you’d better listen good.  You just remember--  you asked for this,"   he warned, tone anything but ceremonious as he wagged a finger at him.   "God's can't touch time because that's what we rifters are for, dummy.  We govern the fabric of reality. Time's separate to a God's responsibilities, see.  Gods maintain districts and concepts; we maintain things relating to the Universe itself.  Time and space, namely.  Those things're outside of a God's scope."

    "So yer…  above Raku?"

    "I'd argue yes,"   the rifter said pridefully.   "That little chump's only got a district to look after.  I've got this entire timeline, and parallel timelines that're born from this timeline."   He retrieved his coffee, brought it to his mouth.  With his lips against the rim:   "... but it doesn't matter.  We work together.  In tandem.  We help each other.  The basic idea is that Gods keep their people happy;  those happy people are way more likely to stick to their destined paths, which means less problems for rifters.  If there is a threat to the peace of the district, the God quells it;  if it is a threat to the Balance, I do.  We ultimately both serve the same function--  to keep the Universe happy--  but we're at opposite ends of the spectrum."

    "We're…  pre-determined?"

    "Heh.  I forgot you're the existential type,"   Cthugha tittered numbly.   "No.  Not in the way you're thinking anyway.  People live in more of a probability map than they do a script;  they have a list of things they could do in any given situation and can select from most of them without any real consequence to the Balance.  People have free will because the Universe isn’t overly fragile, get it?  The continuum isn’t going to shit itself if you take a detour from your usual lunch order.  Every choice births a parallel universe in which the other was made.  Most of these parallel universes are benign and don't need to be touched.  So basically, you could make any choice and each of them would be as inconsequential to me."   At least, if we’re talking about your average choices.   “No more about this, okay?  It isn’t gonna do you any good.  I’m not really supposed to talk about it, but since you were so stubborn...”

    He wasn't going to get into the ins and outs of his job, especially not with a simple huro.  It wasn’t productive.  It wasted time.  It could have catastrophic consequences for his mortal mind.  And the Balance, above all, was a picky sonuvabitch that Cthugha didn’t understand.  Sometimes a store being out of a person's favourite sandwich led to them becoming an angry, tyrannical politician that eventually ended the world.  Other times, a person could murder seventeen children in cold blood and the Balance remained unchanged, seeing those seventeen lives as pre-determined losses.  He’d stopped asking questions a long time ago--  had learned to accept that, in most instances, what was meant to be was meant to be.

    Not when it concerned the end of all life in the Aphanta Region, though.

    Kuro looked dizzy.  He sank a little further into his seat, his tanky frame looking all but comical in the small fold-up chair.   "... 'n' what can I do about any'a this, huh?  I'm just a police officer.  A damn good one, sure, but I’m no cosmic cop."

     "Mm,"   agreed the time-keeper, a solitary nod offered.   "Sure.  But you're a police officer in a district that contains a Universal Hazard."

    "Universal Hazard…?"

    "Sheriff."   It was the first time that Cthugha had paused to find the correct words during their conversation.  He seemed brazen, largely unconcerned with hurting peoples' feelings, but this appeared to be an exception.  Kuro steeled himself, spine turning rigid.   "... I've seen the death of this district, then its neighbours, then beyond.  It all circles back to one very particular problem:  a case you never solve."

    “Brannon…?”   he asked, feeling his heart leap into his throat.

    “Not her.  Someone whose case’s gotten so cold it’s practically subzero,”   Cthugha murmured, polishing off the last of his coffee with a well-timed swallow.   “Remember Mia Vanton?”

    “... oh shit.”

    Cthugha nodded solemnly.     “Yeah.  Her.”

[bitsinakaleidoscope]

So I’ve been playing around with this idea for around half a day by now [because it literally came to me right as I was trying to fucking go to sleep]. Basically it’s me shifting the CotBG sects further towards Transhumanist Machine Cult than Doomsday Machine Cult. There’s also gonna be some stuff about the Foundation at the end, and I SWEAR it’s not because I’m completely used to O5verthinking’s O5-1 “Founder” [/lh you’re great, Rosencrantz].

Putting this under a read more because I have chronic Write An Entire Academic Paper syndrome.

To kick this off, I need to explain what’s going to change with the Mekhanites before I say why. Each sect basically gets their own brand of transhumanism from each other. The Broken Church is metaphorical and boring, at least in the sense of what they do with their bodies. I can imagine that exploring the thoughts of a follower of the Broken Church would be really interesting. The Cogwork Orthodoxy, of course, is going full on transhumanism. They’re trying to build themselves in the likeness of MEKHANE, to an incredibly literal extent. The Maxwellists overall seem to be a more “mind over matter” sect. I don’t think they’re trying to revoke every single organic material there is on themselves. They’re more focused on augmentations, improvements, making it easier for their minds to make a machine out of their bodies, without actually making it all metal. If Orthodoxy people would replace their entire limbs with new metal ones, Maxwellists would be more likely to wear an exoskeleton. Of course, this is ignoring prosthesis, in which case I’d assume every sect has something for that. Overall, instead of going we have to reassemble MEKHANE Themself, they’re more like we need to build our likenesses to resemble MEKHANE Themself.

Now, the reason why I made this change is the potential conflict there could be with the concept of substitutionary atonement. A quick explanation of what substitutionary atonement is, for those who might not know, is basically the whole “Jesus died for your sins” thing. MEKHANE broke Herself in order to cage Yaldabaoth, and now everyone needs to work to evoke Her image the best they can themself. Of course, there are going to be people who object to this ideology, but still believe/follow MEKHANE. These people are the classic “Let’s find all the parts of the Broken God and put Him back together!” followers that I’m assuming the CotBG was created for in the first place. Their work towards transhumanism is meant so that they can aid in combating and defeating Yaldabaoth once and for all, after reassembling MEKHANE. If MEKHANE wants us to be whole, then MEKHANE should be whole as well.

Adjacent to them, there are the Nalkans who are basically just like “Imagine following a god who hands you your transhumanism on a silver platter” [then again, I could easily shorten that to “Imagine following a god”]. This also falls in line with Nalkan beliefs [at least the newer interpretations of them], where they work to elevate themselves. Or only themself, if they’re one of the goddamn filthy capitalists [/lh]. They don’t believe in the sacrifice of one to benefit all. They either believe in the cooperation of all to benefit all, or capitalism [goddamn it, Neo Nalkans]. They would scoff at the idea of following any entity and making themselves in that entity’s likeness. They’re gonna take their flesh and make it however they want it to be like, fuck any entity who tries to tell them otherwise.

And now, for the part you’ve all been waiting for, how does the Foundation fit in here. Well, I’d say they’re practically high on substitutionary atonement. Look no further than the phrase “We die in the dark, so you can live in the light.” Though this is on the level of an entire group, they’re willing to put themselves through constant suffering in order to keep the world from ending. They stretch themselves thin in order to keep the Construct afloat. Hell, D-Class are promised atonement if they aid in the containment of different SCPs, and survive. But this will never come, as they aren’t the ones who will be atoned. The Foundation is trying their hardest to keep humanity from being damned. And, surprisingly enough, so is the GOC.

In the Operative’s Handbook, there are two main headers: “You are expendable” and “You are not disposable.” The section labeled “You are expendable” explains how, out of the billions of people alive, you must be willing to sacrifice yourself in order to protect them. For “You are not disposable,” they clarify that the person can’t just throw themself around, because they have limited resources. Overall, this is a similar attitude to what the Foundation feels, though for the Foundation, it’s less given through order in a handbook and more inherited from the culture surrounding the group. Both the Foundation and the GOC, though in opposition over what to do with dangerous anomalies, still follow the idea of substitutionary atonement. They’re both standing on the front lines of a threat that could destroy humanity, and they’re allowing themselves to bear that brunt.

And there really isn’t much opposition to those two doing that shit on site. Like, yeah, you’ll have the Foundation undermine the GOC, GOC undermine the Foundation, UIU might get something in against either one of them, but overall, nobody’s really complaining about the whole substitutionary atonement thing. I’m not counting the Serpent’s Hand or Chaos Insurgency in this, they’re both too disorganized to count. Though, having a cell of either one of those groups being opposed to the Foundation and/or GOC because of the reason that no group should have to condemn themselves to suffering would be an interesting thing to see.

Treading into the land of Personal Canon, the conflict within the Normalcy Org. gang arises when the Foundation expects other groups/people to throw themselves to the front lines “for the sake of the Veil/Construct.” The choice is simple to them, one or a few people’s lives or the Veil/Construct. And the answer is simple as well, a handful of people is nothing compared to reality as a whole, therefore they should be down to sacrifice themselves. The UNGOC, being the distant oversight group that they are, are totally down with this. Groups nearer to Normalcy, however, don’t agree with this. For them, a life, human or otherwise, is still just as precious as anything else. For them, even if it might risk the collapse of the Veil or destruction of the Construct, they want to find a way for everyone to get out alive.

Drawing from An Unconventional Tail, the UIU- and, in extent, JOVE- is better at minimizing injuries and casualties than the Foundation is, most likely because their first thought is “How can I solve this without harming anyone” instead of “How can I solve this with the least casualties.” They go in with the idea of no man left behind, the Foundation wouldn’t feel as bad if a handful died. In theory, the UNGOC would be closer towards the UIU but even site canon says they’re willing to discard “Protection” for the sake of “Survival.”

Now, I’m not saying any group is in the wrong here. Each group’s goals call for different mentalities and beliefs. However, that must be kept in mind when each of them are interacting with each other, and that’s when the problems arise. When there’s a failure to understand the, well, culture surrounding the other group, you’ll get conflict.

Moral of the story aside, that’s all I have for this so far. Expect to see this pop up in whatever stuff I write, if I ever end up posting that shit on here.

[ace-oreos]

Way of the Hunter Ch. 13

A slightly longer chapter than normal because writing... is... fun? 

Check out @deltaturtle26‘s corner if you’re looking for chapter 12. :) Feedback is always appreciated, so let us know what you think! 

Shereshoy and aay’han. 

Parallel concepts, really, but inexplicably linked all the same. Life and... mourning what life once was, I guess, while celebrating what still stands. I don’t really know how to explain it, Wrecker, but I think you would understand. 

Making the best of what we had and ensuring you would be there to see the next day - that’s what shereshoy is at its core. The indescribable yearning to grab hold of life and cherish every experience. That’s what you lived for, I think. I suppose some people would argue that you can’t find a reason for existence in those fleeting moments - that it’s not enough - but you found it anyways. You, out of all of us, and only you. You saw the things the rest of us never opened our eyes to.  

And that’s why you would understand aay’han, too. You know that for every joyful moment, there is a moment of pain to counter it. It’s a strange balance that we rarely take notice of, yet we rely on this balance to shape our lives at any given moment. 

Most beings are lucky enough to go about their lives without ever being fully conscious of that balance. Then there are those of us who are only aware of it because the universe or some other force demanded that we pay attention. We learned that early on, but you were the only one to embrace it. You saw it as a source of strength rather than a target for blame. 

A year ago, I would have given anything just to go back to the way things used to be. But now… I don’t know what I would do now. 

I shouldn’t ask, but if it’s at all possible�� keep looking for those moments that make life worth hanging on to. It’s too easy to lose yourself to the other side of things if you don’t have something to keep you grounded. 

K’oyacyi, ner vod. 

Wrecker was beginning to have second thoughts about Nar Shaddaa.

It was, as Tech argued, a suitable location for avoiding the Empire and anyone else who might take exceeding interest in their history. Wrecker knew from long experience that Tech was usually right about these things, and while he knew Tech’s intuition greatly surpassed his own - and most of the galaxy, for the matter - he couldn’t shake the feeling that staying on Nar Shaddaa for an extended period of time was asking for trouble. 

He tried to comfort himself with the idea that Nar Shaddaa was similar to Coruscant - if Coruscant’s upper levels had been overtaken by Hutt clans that collectively turned a blind eye to the criminal activities that ran rampant in the underbelly of the city. Wrecker couldn’t fathom half of the illicit dealings that surely occurred on a regular basis within the capital; it seemed there was minimal enforcement of whatever laws might have existed in such a place, and the residents didn’t bother to conceal the true nature of their affairs.

It was home to the galaxy’s most ruthless criminals, but even that would be essential to survival: Wrecker was sure that any bounty hunter who would devote energy into chasing a hapless citizen who had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time would leap at the chance to deliver three deserters to the Empire. The longer the attention remained on the bigger players and their doings, the better. 

Wrecker made an effort to appear inconspicuous as he followed Crosshair and Tech towards the outskirts of the city. The whole place was an odd blend of the Hutts’ lavish, sprawling towers and decrepit structures Tech called skyslums shoved in between. The Hutt clans dominated the entire star system, and they made sure to establish their position wherever they could. The towers served as a reminder that it was ultimately the Hutts who determined wealth and prestige - and who was allowed to live. 

Several times Wrecker had the distinct unsettling feeling of being followed, but whenever he glanced back, the streets were deserted except for a few battered droids. Still, he made a point to keep an eye on them. He doubted anything was what it seemed in this lawless city.

A thin, unpleasantly warm drizzle began to fall. Wrecker adjusted the collar of the jacket he’d salvaged after fleeing Dantooine. Beside him, Crosshair secured the cloak over his shoulders with a scowl. It wasn’t much by way of a disguise, but he supposed armor would have attracted the exact sort of attention they were so keen to avoid. 

“We should head back to the Marauder for the night,” Tech said quietly, shooting a furtive glance towards the long shadows cast by the skyslums. 

“Safer than wandering around out here,” Crosshair agreed. 

Wrecker nodded his assent. The Marauder was just a kilometer or so beyond city limits, though he doubted any of Nar Shaddaa’s residents would have any qualms about commandeering a ship that was not within the city itself. 

Tech had deliberately chosen that area, explaining that the ship would likely be safe from simple thieves looking for easy pickings. They would be able to defend it, too, if it came to that. The minute one of them discharged a blaster, Tech warned, they would draw the unwanted eyes of the gangs that roved the streets at night. They would only have a few minutes to escape before being set upon by enemies. 

No sooner had the thought crossed Wrecker’s mind than the droids that had been following them for blocks suddenly emerged from the growing darkness. A motley collection of mismatched parts and scrap metal that gleamed in the dull light from the city, the blasters trained on Wrecker and his brothers were deadly real.

***

Hunter was jarred from the state of semi-awareness he’d sunk into after entering hyperspace by the incessant chirping of his comlink. 

He fumbled for the device, cursing when his head collided painfully with a bulkhead. Eyes watering, he opened the incoming transmission. It was a data file, courtesy of a client who had been thoroughly delighted with the results of Hunter’s previous jobs. Hunter had parted on good terms with him, with the client promising to reward him for his successes. 

There was a short message included with the file:

The others passed this one up, but I knew it wouldn’t be too much for you to handle. Once this is over, one of my colleagues has a proposition for you. I can’t disclose too much, but suffice to say it would be more than enough to finance an early retirement. 

Intrigued, Hunter made a note to return to that at a later time, then turned his attention to the file. To his surprise, the bounty’s most recent recorded location was Kalevala. Few outsiders passed through the Mandalore system; the bounty was either on an aruetii hoping to lay low in such a desolate stretch of space, or…

Hunter knew several Mandalorian factions preferred to fight as mercenaries rather than align themselves decisively with one side or another. He had little knowledge of Mandalorian history, despite Uruk’s best efforts to educate him on such matters, but he figured nomadic warriors who chose their side based on pay likely made enemies of the ones they betrayed or double crossed.

He read further, and his stomach dropped. 

Wanted for involvement with the Death Watch. Possibly responsible for premeditating the bombing that killed New Mandalorian Deputy Minister Jerec.

Hunter knew about the Death Watch, all right. Most had died in exile following their defeat during the Mandalorian Civil War, but the handful of survivors had reformed the sect in secret, then embarked on a reign of terror as they tried to seize control of the Mandalorian government. They were widely regarded as the most hated group to ever occupy Mandalorian territory. 

No wonder no one else wanted this job, he thought wryly. Even the most hardened bounty hunter would think twice about taking on a Mandalorian - particularly one associated with such a ruthless organization. 

Knowing perfectly well he would likely want nothing to do with this in the future, Hunter sent a transmission to the client confirming that he would take the job. 

***

Wrecker knew getting tangled up in difficult situations was simply a fact of life for his squad at by now, but this - being surrounded by a gang of armed droids on a Hutt-controlled planet - was a first. 

“When you said gangs, I didn’t think you meant droids,” Crosshair said under his breath.

There was just enough of an accusation in his voice that Tech shot back indignantly, “How was I supposed to know?” 

“Funnily enough, I was under the impression that you had some idea of what we were getting into when - ”

“Shoot now, talk later,” Wrecker interrupted urgently as the droids pressed closer. They hadn’t opened fire yet, but he wasn’t going to wait. He was sorry to see that battered as they were, their blasters appeared perfectly functional.

“We could try negotiating,” Tech suggested half-heartedly.

“Do those blasters say negotiation to you, Tech?” Crosshair hissed. 

What Tech’s answer was, Wrecker never found out. The first blaster bolt streaked past, missing Crosshair by a wide berth. The second nearly clipped Wrecker’s shoulder. Soon the air was filled with irregular flashes that briefly illuminated the narrow alley. 

There was little room to maneuver. The droids were equally hindered by the tight space, but droids weren’t as easily discouraged as organic adversaries. They closed in relentlessly. Well-placed shots to vulnerable joints slowed them down, but unlike most beings, they didn’t retreat to escape further injury. 

Wrecker found himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Crosshair. The close quarters meant a sniper rifle’s effectiveness would be drastically reduced, so Crosshair was wielding a DC-15 pistol. Even without his rifle, most of his shots found the droids’ optical sensors or other vital areas.

By Wrecker’s estimate, the droids were down maybe a third of their original number. He had taken only grazing hits so far; if they could get out of the alley and into a wider area, taking out the remaining droids wouldn’t be a problem. 

Tech seemed to be having similar thoughts. “If we can hold them off long enough, we should be able to make it to the Marauder.” As he spoke, he neatly dodged a shot that otherwise would have hit him center mass.

Holding them off was the problem, Wrecker thought. The droids were doing a pretty good job of laying down fire relentlessly. If they needed an opening in order to escape, they would have to make it themselves. EMPs would do the trick, but he hadn’t been able to replenish his supply before they were shipped off to Dantooine. 

Unless…

The bolts flying in every direction made it difficult to focus solely on one thing, but Wrecker raised his voice over the clamor and called,“Tech!” 

For a terrible moment there was no response; before Wrecker had time to be properly scared that his brother was lying wounded or dead, Tech answered breathlessly, “Do you have an idea?” 

“Got any EMPs?” 

Tech drew level with him, frowning as he simultaneously calculated an escape plan and returned fire. “It could work, but it’ll be close.”

“Get on with it, then!” Crosshair barked. 

Wrecker planted his feet and fired another burst of bolts at the droids. He heard Crosshair curse as he lost his footing on the ground, the dirt churned into mud by the rain and the furious firefight. Wrecker knew it was dangerous to expose himself to enemy fire, but he turned to help his brother anyways. A few hits wouldn’t -

Tech shouted a warning, and the alley burst into dazzling blue light. 

Wrecker didn’t wait to see the results. He hauled Crosshair to his feet and shoved him ahead, towards the Marauder. Then he seized Tech by the arm and took off. He didn’t dare look back; the droids would eventually recover, but the critical seconds it took them to recalibrate were all they needed to break for the ship. 

By some miracle, Wrecker ran without slipping on the perilously slick dirt. The Marauder was in view now, his brothers were racing alongside him, and suddenly they were stumbling up the short set of stairs and into the safety of the cockpit. 

Tech’s hands flew over the controls. After what felt like impossibly long minutes but couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds, the Marauder was rising into the air. It gained speed, and soon Nar Shaddaa was falling away. The skyslums faded into indistinct patches of darkness on the surface, and soon Wrecker could no longer distinguish between one city and another.

He fell back in his seat, relieved. They were safe - for the time being. He looked at Tech. His brother’s face mirrored his own exhaustion. When Wrecker risked a glance at Crosshair, he saw with some amusement that Crosshair looked as indifferent as ever. Only the tight set of his jaw suggested they had been through anything unusual.

Crosshair idly examined the toothpick between his fingers, then said, “Droids. Wouldn’t you know it’d be droids.”

Wrecker caught Tech’s eye. Tech shrugged, determinedly maintaining a straight face, but the corner of his mouth twitched. His shoulders shook as he fought to hold back his mirth.

Wrecker burst out laughing.

***

Although Mandalorian warriors were hardly an unusual sight on Kalevala, Hunter felt distinctly out of place. 

His armor didn’t draw the stares he’d learned to ignore; he was simply one Mando’ad in a system of thousands. The only feature that marked him as different from the other warriors was the keeradak signet. He was wary of openly displaying anything that indicated his connection to the covert - he wasn’t sure how warriors who did not follow the Way would react on the off chance they recognized it as a sign of his allegiances - but wasn’t entirely successful in smothering his pride and defiance. A warrior never concealed his signet out of shame or fear. 

To his relief, no one seemed to pay any attention to the symbol. Those he passed simply nodded in greeting and continued on their way. Part of him wanted to enjoy exploring a planet he’d never set foot on before, but he had a mission to complete. After all, it wasn’t all that different from Mandalore.

If that was true, he thought uneasily, then how had someone with ties to the Death Watch been able to reside here for months? Most Mando’ade loathed the Death Watch on principle. Had the bounty simply gone to great lengths to hide his past, or was someone willingly harboring him? Maybe the Death Watch wasn’t completely eradicated after all. 

It was a disturbing thought, but Hunter shoved it away. There was no point fretting over things he couldn’t answer for himself. 

The sprawling metropolis around him slowly transitioned into the collection of smaller districts that seemed to function as separate communities. This was closer to the areas of Mandalore he was familiar with, and he allowed himself to relax slightly. The city made him nervous; there were too many places to hide, too many variables. If he could corner his target in one of the less populated areas, completing the job would be much simpler.

Hunter came to a halt as nonchalantly as he could manage, studying the small crowd of armor-clad beings intently. Something had caught his eye… 

His heart began to pound. Just a few meters away, a man with a strange symbol set on his bes’marbur was making his way through a cluster of Mandalorians ambling along the walkway. Hunter had initially mistaken the image to be a signet like his own, but this symbol was different. Uruk had sketched it for him in the dirt once, months ago when he was familiarizing Hunter with Mandalorian history, but the senior warrior had obliterated it almost immediately. 

If any true Mando’ad were to see that, Uruk had said grimly, he would slit your throat, no questions asked. 

The crimson jai’galaar symbol of the Death Watch gleamed on the man’s shoulder.

Hunter frowned. If he were watching the man the client had described, the indicator in his HUD would be flashing. But no such icon appeared. 

His mind raced. Hunter began walking once more, surreptitiously following the Death Watch warrior. Even if he’s not the target, he could still lead me there, he thought. But why wasn’t anyone reacting to the symbol? The man hadn’t tried to disguise it in any way. How many of them are here?

Hunter gradually became aware that the neatly organized districts were giving way to irregular clusters of buildings. There were still Mando’ade here, but the crowd had thinned significantly. More than once Hunter thought he saw the stylized jai’galaar glaring on other shoulders or breastplates, but whenever he tried to covertly confirm his suspicions, the warriors had disappeared. 

The man he was following at a distance abruptly turned a corner and disappeared. Hunter quickened his pace as much as he dared, then followed the same route. Just beyond the corner rose what might have been a warehouse. 

Hunter had hardly taken one step towards it when the man appeared in front of him. Suddenly Hunter was falling, slamming into the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of his lungs. He rolled over, unsheathing his knife in the same movement, but a sudden weight in the middle of his back kept him pressed into the ground. 

“Well done, bounty hunter,” the man rasped. Fighting the panic rising in his chest, Hunter saw three more Mandalorians with the jai’galaar symbol adorning their beskar’gam emerge from the dark building in front of him. “It seems you’re beginning to realize why everyone else refused to take this job.”

[caffeinated-yearning]

The Start of Something Awful

@werewolfpine said I should post my writing and I’m doing it because I will literally never post unless someone forces me to, here’s a snippet of the lore of How Doc Ock Comes To Be, featuring my/Ock’s actual mind thought mannerisms. Technically this has only my S/I Oliver and Doctor Octavius a little at the front end, because I do my best work when it’s one character who thinks too much.

Word Count: ~1.4k Warnings: Self-harm (minor), queasiness (minor), astonishingly sarcastic narrator voice

“Hoshino.”

Oliver looks up from the box; as much as people focused on biorobotics, he rather preferred the metal things he’d been working on. None of that confusion of the ‘bio’ aspect. Cold techne and cold metal, a perfect compliment to his frozen heart. Looked up at his teacher- professor, Otto Octavius, and said nothing.

“The test results..?”

Of course! How could he possibly forget the mind-crippling endeavor of writing up a lab report for the sake of his dear professor? It would never pass off as science if he didn’t suffer the hideous toil of turning his experiment into a report; let it be known that the gods themselves would forbid anyone to simply look at the raw data and draw their own conclusions- no, he has to bring their attention to that all himself.

Ability to self-replicate- [Y] Hive mind program- [Y] Formation of simple and complex shapes- [Y] Link to human minds- concept phase. Mobile complex shapes- concept only. Modify macro chemicals within human body- tested in organic slurry, dubious results. Anything else that could be interesting- hasn’t been conceptualized yet.

“Would you call it a success?”

“If it teaches something new, it is a success.”

“Then have you been taught anything?”

Oh, doctor, do not pretend! This is all just a reinvention of the wheel at this point. Smaller and still programmable they may be, but these are all things that have been done before. They were done decades ago, before everyone found biological machinery to hold more promise. What then is there to learn? Humans disagree with metal, that has been the lesson. Oliver answers in so dry a tone; “discussion section: page three. Sir.”

“So I read.” Oliver returns his attention to his robots, still attentive to the good doctor’s words; “you sound irritated- both in the paper and at present.”

It is proper to smile and shake his head, to set the doctor’s concerns to rest. He fails this task, and in the same dry tone; “I’m not. I have concerns that this research is dated at best.”

“Then you are-.”

Interrupting, and how uncharacteristic that was- “I don’t have the time to be emotional, in any event.” The professor seemed off-put by that. Indeed, it was rude of Oliver to interrupt; he makes note of that, and fails to realize that describing himself as necessarily emotionless might instead be the reason for the doctor’s discomfort. Even the good Doctor Octavius had room to be emotional when good or ill fortune struck.

There was a pause, a little too long, before the doctor spoke- he’d turned back only to give a half-question; “I trust that you can be left alone in the lab, Oliver?”

“Yes, Dr. Octavius.” Really, this was such a dumb question. Could Oliver be trusted? Of course not; every faculty member would agree, if they only knew the contents of his mind. Which made it a rather good thing, how very skilled in keeping his thoughts under lock and key he was. Not with his friends of course. With friends you were expected to share a certain amount of information, and in turn they shared meaningless data points that helped one curry good favor if one kept it all in mind. What a fun game that was, sifting through all that data and hoping you came across anything of interest.

Ah. And he was alone. The professor had left without him noticing.

“And if I am consumed by the plague I now set loose upon the earth, thus was my fate since the moment I was born; not God nor Man could stop me or my creations; Pandora, I call upon thee.” He was alone, could he not be dramatic? The box was opened, and the robots did... Absolutely nothing.

Oh good, they hadn’t developed sentience while he acted out his drama.

A scalpel he’d pilfered from his sibling on a recent trip home; it was perhaps not the cleanest, but it would serve to sever, given he’d sharpened it against bricks and stones when he’d had a moment to do so. The only issue now was to shut down his self-preservation instincts, which barely allowed a scratch to be made against himself. But not seeing the place he would cut made easier the act, and he cut into the skin that made up the hair line just behind and below his right ear.

The incision was easier than he’d expected, perhaps because it was so much closer to his dreams’ completion than anything else had been before. He pretends to be surprised by the blood, but to what end? No one is around.

He starts his computer up, watches the robots come to life, and opens up the file “Concept_Phase.chk”. Checkpoint reached, your game will now auto-save, he hums; for the first time he feels the striking chill of fear. He thinks perhaps it is the first time in his life, but knows instinctively this cannot be the case. Either way, one error at this point would be so much more devastating.

They were crawling into that bloodied cut now. He should have worn a different shirt, but at least the black on this one might spare the rest from carrying a stain. They were a horrible itching sensation in his skin- he forces his hand stationary, to meddle now is more threatening. It is most threatening; he does not understand the limits of the human body, but he does understand the delicacy of the brain.

And they are in his brain.

That is the most terrifying part of it all, and he suppresses the urge to vomit. Brains are such delicate things and he has put so many bits of metal into his. He suppresses the urge to stand and run from this horrible thing that he has done. He stays stock still, and feels fear in every muscle and every nerve ending of his body.

And they are in his brain.

He woke up, cold, and pushed himself off the floor. Linoleum or plastic tile- didn’t matter, it was cold. He almost felt annoyance- hadn’t he been doing something? It was awfully uncharacteristic of him to sleep in the lab. The computer lab, maybe, but this wasn’t that.

Oh fuck the robots and the cut- he grasps at his neck, drawing his hand away with the full expectation to pull away half-scabbed gunk, or blood still running. Nothing. He sighed. Maybe it was another dream- maybe he was still dreaming. Dreaming of being something worthy of pride and love, instead of the falsehood he’d built himself into. Of being a worthwhile investment on the part of his parents and friends. Of being something better than this, whatever this was.

Log onto his computer- and how very strange! He’d never run the checkpoint file before, if it was a dream, so why was there a .log version now? It was suddenly beginning to feel very much not like a dream. Uneasiness, like so many maggots in his stomach, seemed to eat at him. He reached up and closed the box that had once been the house of his pride, and scanned over the .log file.

Program terminated successfully.

Oh thank the gods and devils both. It was successful.

But they were in his brain, now. Theoretically, he should be able to interact with them, if all had gone according to plan. He tried not to think about how unsanitary last night’s actions were, or rather to think about that instead of the presence of so much non-biological material now swarming around in his skull. He could feel the crawling- the sensation of parasites under his skin, but how much of that was simply psychological? He couldn’t say.

“Not nearly enough time to run any sort of experiment on them,” he sighed; class would begin soon. Sure, he was already in the building, but still. “How disappointing. How many are left in there?” He finally bothered to stand up and check the box; maybe if he… tried to input commands to those ones? There were still plenty in there; doesn’t take that much metal to make a computer chip inside one’s head then.

They stirred, sluggish and confused. They had never moved of their own accord before... Responsive? Again, move again- and they did. They swayed with little ripples, ocean waves almost.

Link to human minds- [Y].

[forehead-enthusiast]

A Buncha Tag Games (and yet not all of them)

tagged by: @eggyukhei mwah

tagging: this is a LOT of games so i’ll only tag @atinyphobe @nsheetee and @veonjun for the SECOND (2nd) game. if they or anybody wants to do any of the other games, absolutely go for it and say i tagged you <3 i’d love to see what you guys say!! (also, tk if you felt like you wanted to answer my questions from the second game i’d be interested to see!)

One:

tell me the first song that made you stan your current fave group and why did your faves attract you so much?

ok SO the song that probably got me into rv 100% (also yes ik this blog is 99% nct but rv is my forever fave no question) was probably ice cream cake!! i had been a casual listener of many groups up until that point and had never really stanned anyone, but icc was so infectious i found myself watching it over and over. i had heard happiness and be natural before but hadn’t really listened too closely, so icc was the song that captured me. after that, dumb dumb only cemented my love for them more, and the red is still one of my favorite kpop albums to date. rv attracted me primarily because of their incredible vocals and their versatility in genres and concepts. i still get so excited wondering what they’ll tackle next!! they’re just soooo unique and have one of, if not the best discographies of any group. i cannot stress enough, I. Love. RV!! also they’re funny and gay so. anyway stream monster once it drops uwu

Two:

rule: answer the ten questions and write your own!

1. what is your favorite song that’s been released during quarantine? ooooo honestly??? probably something off of Sawayama. literally every song bangs so hard i highly recommend that album to anyone!! i can’t pick a favorite off it but who’s gonna save you now is awesome and xs is just,,, chef’s kiss

2. what is your greatest mishap when you tried cooking? (or something you’ve witnessed) one time, while making soup at my late grandmother’s house on her like gas stove, i put a lid on a pot and somehow that led the pot to be engulfed in flames. IN MY DEFENSE i was like 7, and i’m great at cooking/baking now

3. what’s your go-to outfit or article of clothing? oh i love a nice dress. they can be casual or formal, and you look like you put effort into your outfit except i didn’t because i didn’t have to match anything yo!!!! also shorts have trouble fitting me cause i’m a weird body type so dresses tend to be very comfy for me

4. what is your comfort food? am i allowed to say like all food??? eating in itself is comforting,,, that sounds depressing but also i just like eating yummy food. i guess i’d say like my dad’s fried rice?? its my fave and no one makes it like him soooo

5. what singular moment in your life would you like to relive? i couldn’t tell if this meant like, a good moment you want to re-experience or go back in time and redo a moment and fix it. it’s kind of a hard question so i might cop out and go with a bit of a silly answer: i want to relive the hi touch with astro...... i wanna look at rocky’s beautiful eyes and touch moonbin’s hand ok,,,,

6. what is your favorite line and/or character from a movie, show, or book? i got a bunch but a few off the top of my head are genie lo (the epic crush of genie lo), ty lee, suki (atla), klaus, and ben (umbrella academy) 

7. if you could only choose one ice cream flavor and pizza topping/style for the rest of your life, what would it be? ice cream flavor: this very specific one from a local store that is banana ice cream with strawberries and oreo mixed in. it is heaaaavenly. as for pizza topping, i love a breakfast type pizza with an egg on top and like sausage and stuff!!!

8. what is the worst injury you’ve ever had or witnessed? funny enough, i’ve actually gotten badly injured quite a few times, and always on the face!! god hates me. the worst was probably when i hit a metal bench with my face and it took a chunk out of my cheek. i still have the scar! as for “witnessed” i accidentally broke a grown man’s rib once as a child, so i guess that would count.

9. would you rather explore the unknown of space or the bottom of the ocean? oceaaaan!! i answered this in some other game, but i like how mysterious and yet close the ocean is. like proximity wise it’s so near, yet there’s an insane amount we know nothing about. that’s so frightening but so intriguing

10. if you could be any cartoon character, who would you be? my first thought was literally “kirby. eat fast” GOD my followers are gonna think i’m just a glutton and they’re not even gonna be wrong im dying. but uhh idk mulan or smth?

my questions:

what is your go-to feel good movie?

are you the type of person who’s indecisive about buying, or the type to impulse buy once you see something you like?

do you prefer chocolate-y or fruity candy?

what idol do you think is most similar to you? (not your bias necessarily)

do you have any silly dealbreakers? if so, what are they?

what do you do to unwind?

what is a small thing you like to do for people you love? (be it sending memes, remembering their favorite shows, etc)

what’s/who’s your favorite myth/mythological being?

what is a non-typical pet you would want to have?

do you say pronounce data as day-ta or dah-ta?

THREE

rule: bold the statements that apply to you, italicize your aspirations, then tag nine people. 

AIR ༉⋆͙̈

i have small hands / i love the night sky / i watch animals and birds when i pass them by / i drink herbal tea / i wake to see the dawn / the smell of dust is comforting / i’m valued for being wise / i prefer books to music / i meditate / i find joy in learning new truths from the world around me

FIRE ༉⋆͙̈

i don’t have straight hair / i like to wear ripped jeans and overalls / i play an organized sport / i love dogs / i am not afraid of adventure / i love to talk to strangers / i always try new foods / i enjoy road trips / summer is my favorite season / my radio is always playing

WATER ༉⋆͙̈

i wear bracelets on my wrists / i love the bustle of the city / i have more than one set of piercings / i read poetry / i love the sound of a thunderstorm / i want to travel the world / i sleep past midday most days / i love simply lit dinners and fluorescent signs / i rewatch kids shows out of nostalgia / i see emotions in colors not words

EARTH ༉⋆͙̈

i wear glasses or contacts / i enjoy doing the laundry / i am a vegetarian or vegan / i have an excellent sense of time / my humor is very cheerful / i am a valued advisor to my friends / i believe in true love / i love this chill of mountain air / i’m always listening to music / i am highly trusted by the people in my life

AETHER ༉⋆͙̈

i go without makeup in my daily life / i make my own artwork / i keep on track of my tasks and time / i always know true north / i see beauty in everything / i can always smell flowers / i smile at everyone i pass by / i always fear history repeating itself / i have recovered from a mental disorder / i can love unconditionally

FOUR

the ultimate tag: answer whichever ones you want to because there are a lot and then tag a few blogs you’d like to get to know better! 

PERSONAL

name: sarah

nickname: bells

birthday: april 17th

zodiac: aries

nationality: chinese american

languages: english, some spanish, some korean

gender: female

sexuality: baby bi bi bi~

height: 5′10

BLOG STUFF

inspiration for muse: i suppose nct since i write for them the most?? but i feel like sometimes i come up with the idea before i think of a member so sometimes the muse is just my own fantasies oops

meaning behind my url: i made it at a time where loads of idols were getting bangs and honestly i believe most of them look infinitely better without them, thus i was and still am enthusiastic about foreheads.

blog established: like winter of 2018...?? i think

followers: over 2.5k but most deactivated/left during my hiatus lol

FAVORITES

favourite animals: sharks, chickens, snakes, cats, penguins

favourite books: the epic crush of genie lo and then iron will of genie lo, PERIOD

favourite colour: pink and purple!!

favourite fictional characters: lol, again, genie lo, ty lee, suki, klaus, ben, and just a few more: richard and evelyn o’connell (the mummy), dave (dave), michael (the good place)

favourite flower: sunflower

favourite scent: baking chocolate, heating butter, blackberry, wisteria

favourite season: probably spring! i like warmth but not HEAT

RANDOM

average hours of sleep: ugh idek i sleep horribly

cats or dogs: both, but unfortunately i’ve never had either

coffee, tea or hot chocolate: tea but then hot chocolate

current time: 5:29pm

dream trip: go to paris and eat loads of pastries and enjoy the fashions and beauty of the city, and also learn to bake better maybe?

dream job: actress

hobbies: making jewelry, drawing, singing, reading comics

hogwarts house: according to the quizzes, all of them. people who have just met me think slytherin or gryffindor, people who i’m friends with think ravenclaw or hufflepuff, people who know me really well know you can’t box a person into oversimplified archetypes :’) in my assessment of myself, it varies by the day, but i think perhaps gryffindor today?

last movie watched: hot fuzz (a classic)

last song listened to: summer breeze by sf9

no. of blankets you sleep with: like 2

random fact(s): i won lego building competitions as a child, one of my dream roles is anastasia from the musical named after her, i played violin for a very short time, i bake the cakes for all my family and friends’ birthdays, i have strangely strong grip strength

SIX

10 songs i can’t stop listening to:

love me 4 me- rina sawayama

cherry- rina sawayama

in & out- red velvet

crush culture- conan gray

manic- conan gray

the king- conan gray

summer- pentagon

told you now- jeremy jordan (originally sung by sam smith)

fuck this world (interlude)- rina sawayama

someone who loves me- sara bareilles

[alittletournesol]

A super spooky night {SHINee/SuperM}

[In this story, the conditions and rights of the LGBTQ+ community in South Korea are completely altered to make same-sex marriage and adoption legally possible. An alternative universe I wish to become reality someday.]

Pairings: OnKey / JongHo Additional characters: kid!Taemin and kid!SuperM’ (except for Baekhyun)

A super spooky night

The clock shows half past five above the dining table when Kibum places the last small bat made of sugar paste on the tremendous cake. He spent his whole day off baking and drawing the most impressive dessert up, also with the help of his boyfriend for the past two hours. Both men take a few steps back to contemplate their work, holding their breath for a minute as if worried they might make the structure fall with just a sigh. But it stands.

Built with three round layers of different circumferences, the cake is all about black and purple homemade frosting. Every decoration is made of almond or sugar paste shaped to represent various characters from a famous animated movie, The Nightmare Before Christmas. The “icing on the cake” actually has nothing to do with icing ; it’s a massive, round bubble of white chocolate with sculpted holes that create the face of Jack Skellington.

Kibum is particularly proud of this part of the cake, for it took him four tries before reaching this impressive result. He had to look for some videos to get that special technic, so he could perfectly pour melted chocolate on a blown up balloon, let it harden with time before delicately sculpting the holes and remove the balloon without breaking the whole thing. The fourth result is perfect, placed on top of the cake and surrounded by little sugar pumpkins. It’s all ready.

“I thought we wouldn’t finish it in time.” Jinki comments, finally allowing himself to sit as he removes his apron. “What are you doing ?”

“Taking pictures of course !” His boyfriend replies as he draws his phone, his enthusiasm showing in the way his eyes sparkle. “That shit took me a day, I won’t let it be engulfed within ten minutes and be forgotten just like that.”

“Sure, but careful with those words once we’ll be there.”

“I’m always careful. Speaking of that, what time is it ?”

“Half past five, more or less. When are we expected ?”

“Half past six.”

“Shit.”

Ignoring Kibum’s laughter at his cursing word, the older man stands up and leaves the kitchen to take a quick shower. They barely have an hour to get dressed and show up at their appointment’s place, which sounds like an impossible mission. However, both men have a certain thing in common : they’re organized. Before time runs out, they’re both all clean from any trace of baking and wearing their costumes ; as they look at each other in the large mirror of their bedroom, Jinki can’t help but snort.

Since they started dating almost four years ago, they’ve been into couple clothes and items, but this year marks their first real couple outfit for this spooky occasion… and he definitely got scammed here. Standing next to him and adjusting his dragon-like horned headdress, Kibum looks stunning in his own version of Maleficent — the recent one, not the one from the very old movie. It has been an idea from their friends’ son, who thought from all of his five years of age that his uncle’s face somehow looked like the dark fairy’s.

The man had found the concept way too appealing to ignore it. That’s how and why he’s now standing proudly in front of the glass, his realistic and expensive costume fitting him as if he was the original character himself. He fully played the game, making his cheekbones look even higher and his jaw sharper by using an easy makeup method with silicon — he’d tried it numerous times before that day, to be sure he wouldn’t mess it up when time would come. And he didn’t.

“Can you remind me about the reason behind my costume ?” Jinki asks, drawing the other man out of his self-contemplation. “Didn’t you tell me that Maleficent has a whole people of her own kind ? Why am I just… a semi-crow and not one of them ?”

“She does, but the crow is more significant.” His boyfriend replies, always serious when it comes to a universe he loves. “The crow was like the part of her she was missing when she became the shadow of her former self. He helped her and always stood by her side, even when she technically didn’t need him anymore. There’s a long lasting affection between them, they’re like… partners in crime. And I wanted to see your handsome face so I went for the crow’s human version.”

“So… I’m your other half and handsome partner in crime ?”

“Exactly. See ? Perfectly fitting us.”

Smiling, Kibum steals the other man a gentle kiss and adjusts the collar of the latter’s black jacket, covered with feathers to remind of the bird. If there is something he loves to see, it’s Jinki wearing black clothes… which is rare, much to his displeasure. But this day, the older man is even wearing a quality wig to imitate the mid-length dark hair of the character, and damn, how good looking it makes him. His boyfriend is about to forget the real purpose of their costumes when his phone rings, interrupting his contemplation.

Cursing under his breath, he plunges his hand in Jinki’s pocket, surprising the latter, and takes his device.

“Yeah ?” He says when he picks up, the deep but loud voice on the other side extremely recognizable. “What are you saying, we’re not late yet. (…) We’re about to leave but don’t expect us to drive fast, we have a whole damn piece of art to preserve before it fills kids’ stomachs ! (…) Alright, see you there. I’m hanging up.”

As soon as he isn’t hearing his best friend’s voice anymore, the horned man makes a face and sticks his tongue out towards his phone, making his partner laugh. Before they’re really running late, they both head to the kitchen to carefully place a huge glass bell cover above the cake, with small metallic ties on its edge to keep it attached to the plate. Thanks to his work in the fashion industry, Kibum sure has a lot of contacts in this world, but he got lucky enough to be in love with a man who, unlike him, knows professionals chefs personally. He has been lent this high cloche to cover and protect their dessert during the short travel from their house to the school.

Once everything is ready and safe, they lift the cake together to place it on a low trolley and pull their coats on before pushing it out of their apartment. They quietly thank some higher entity for equipping their flat with an elevator as they’re being taken to the private parking lot in the basement. With one last, careful effort, they place the imposing stuff on one of the backseats, even fastening the belt on it. While Kibum takes place next to it to hold it just in case, Jinki takes the wheel and finally, they leave.

On the road, the younger man sends a message to his friend, warning him that they’re on their way and will join them within ten minutes. He smiles when he receives a picture of an excited little boy as an answer, the kid wearing fake fangs that gives him a terrific smile… softened by the way he places his arms above his head to shape a heart.

“Taemin is a vampire this year.” He says, more to himself but loud enough to be heard by his boyfriend. “And I think one of the kids is a ghost, I can see a piece of white sheet on the picture.”

“How many kids will be there, again ?” Jinki asks, mentally trying to count.

“Six with him. Seven if you add Minho.”

“Oh please.”

The driver can’t help but laugh, this constant game between these two adults never failing to amuse him despite how old it’s growing. Kibum and Minho have known each other for more than fifteen years and their friendship only grew stronger by time passing ; though, just like when they were teens, not one day goes by without one of them sending some random attack at the other. At first, Jinki had been startled by this strange behaviour but he quickly got used to it as he spent more and more time in their company.

It’s actually by means of knowing Minho through a few classes in common at university that the older man got to meet the man he now calls his boyfriend. And as if heaven had wanted to kill two birds with one stone, Jinki had been the one introducing his classmate to his own childhood friend during an outing, Jonghyun. Since then, the four young men had become inseparable… and while Kibum had asked Jinki out, Minho had found himself disconcerted by how he had been asked the same by Jonghyun only a couple weeks after.

Years passed and they’re now grown adults, reaching the age of thirty one after another. But time hasn’t altered their friendship, nor their respective love relationships ; the first couple is living under a same roof, as they bought their very first apartment two years ago and got engaged a few months after. If they took their time and planned their wedding for this winter, their friends had tied the knot immediately after leaving university. Their family had quickly been joined by a baby, not even five months old, who had looked at them in the eyes at the adoption agency.

The orphan little boy found two loving, caring parents in the persons of Jonghyun and Minho, who raised him from then. Taemin, as is his name, is a cheerful and always smiling child who makes his dads’ happiness and never misses the chance to overwhelm his soul uncles with his catching laughter. He turned five only a few months ago and is becoming more and more interested in life’s little things, which makes him even more adorable.

Though the first days of separation were difficult for his oldest dad, he’s now going to preschool and enjoying every ounce of it. Kibum remembered his friends’ worries about the matter, since the little boy isn’t of the calm and obedient kind… however, it seems he understood pretty well that school and home are two different environments. For this new school year, he is even showing a new quality of his : patience. His school opened a special class to welcome three foreign children who must improve their Korean, and in order not to make them feel excluded or different, their young teacher managed to bring three native kids in their class.

This is how Taemin is now one of the six students of a small class bringing children from three to five years old. Minho used to fear that the extra attention paid to the three foreigners by their teacher would annoy his son, but his husband was clear about it : it would actually be rewarding. And sure it is, the boy is showing a lot of patience when he is trying to communicate with his classmates who only know the basics of his language for now — even the youngest one is brilliantly improving from all of his three years of age, a talkative one.

Tonight is the first time Kibum and Jinki meet their nephew’s friends, though they already caught sight of them when they occasionally got requested by their friends to pick the kid up from school. The only one they know by name is Jongin, a shy-looking boy who tends to transform himself when being in Taemin’s presence. Both adults feel excited and apprehensive at the same time, for they never spent time with so many children at once…

“We’re there, should I park where teachers park ?” The oldest man draws his fiancé out of his thoughts. “I don’t think it’s open.”

“It’s not but Minho gave me a beeper, I put it in your pocket.” Kibum replies as he takes the gadget from the feathered clothes himself and presses the button. “There you go.”

“Why does he even have a beeper ?”

“The teacher gave him a spare one for tonight, I guess I’ll have to give it back.”

Jinki makes the car slowly move forwards, driving in the parking lot until he recognizes his friends’ vehicle and parks next to it. Once he cuts off contact, he’s the first one to get out and goes to open the boot, taking the folded trolley and giving it his real shape back. He’s about to open the back door when he’s stopped by his boyfriend, who got out through the other door. The semi-crow is told to keep his “clumsy little hands” in his pockets and just giggles as he keeps an eye on the way Kibum is delicately taking the cake out of the car.

They’re not even done placing it on the trolley that they hear a way too familiar voice yelling, growing louder by milliseconds passing. Both men look up and have the reflex to shout “freeze !” to make Taemin stop in his race like for the game they often play. The boy laughs but respects the rule and even poses weirdly to make the thing funnier ; Jinki smiles and makes sure the dessert is safe before he crouches and stretches his arms, welcoming his nephew with a hug.

“Don’t bite me, I wanna live !” He whines before making Taemin move backwards, holding his arms to look at him. “How scary you are, are those real teeth ?!”

“Daddy said to say yes so yes the toothies are real ones !” The boy replies, lisping a bit, before he stands in awe when he sees his other uncle. “Woah ! You look like the real one !”

“That’s the secret, kiddo.” Kibum winks at him before he crouches in his turn, whispering at the kid’s ear. “I am the real one.”

“Stop lying ~”

Their nephew is still laughing and inspecting Maleficent’s horns on his uncle’s head when the three of them are eventually joined by an incredible person. Both men have to look twice before they recognize the man wearing a long, grey toga with shattered tails, his skin painted in a sick-looking shade of grey and his usually blonde hair raised on his head… sprayed with a blazing blue colour.

“Jonghyun, is that you ?” Kibum opens his eyes wide before bursting into laughter. “How the hell did you make your hair stand like that !”

“Lots of gel.” Taemin’s father says before hugging his friends. “Look at us, Bum. Hades and Maleficent, two dark villains !”

“Dark and sarcastic, for sure you chose well.” Jinki comments as he grants the kid’s request and holds him on his hip. “Are we late ?”

“Not at all, the teacher was about to tell the rules and Minho is busy putting make up on one of the children. Taemin, you’re old enough to walk by yourself so get back on your feet. Uncle is old you know.”

“Oh really ? Taeminnie, let’s show your dad I’m not old. Let’s race !”

“Yeeeeeeees !”

The boy keeps screaming as he’s being put on the ground and starts running towards the school, followed by a giggling adult losing black feathers on his way. Remaining alone in the parking lot, Jonghyun and Kibum roll their eyes and laugh together, as the latter closes the car and pushes the trolley. Led by the eldest one, both men peacefully reach the building and head directly to the kitchens where a fridge was emptied beforehand to welcome the cake. Carefully, they place it in the cool and finally join the only lively classroom in the whole place.

The room is small, for it’s made to welcome only six children, but it’s nicely arranged. The desks are gathered to make one big table with six chairs around it, two on each side so students sit by pairs. The last side is empty but overlook the board so it would have been stupid to place people here. In a corner, there are a few small shelves filled with books for every age, and comfortable couches and mats on the floor ; Kibum smiles, remembering his own hometown’s preschool that had a similar calm space in each classroom.

But the place is far from being calm at this moment, half a dozen of kids expressing their joy and excitement by running here and there, making the most of their costumes. Only one is sitting without moving, and the horned man holds on his laughter when he sees his tall best friend so focused on the white skull he is painting on the kid’s face. Minho is so busy he doesn’t even notice his friends arrived, but the latter surely notices his costume : a well-done monster of Frankenstein, with old rags as clothes, scars drawn on random spots of his body and fake nut and bolts popping out of his head and neck.

“Good evening, you must be Mr. Kim ?” A young man dressed as an enchanter with night blue clothes welcomes Kibum with a bow and a smile. “I am Mr. Byun, teacher to this little bunch of kids.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, I think you met my partner once ?” The other man returns the greetings. “He picks Taemin up sometimes.”

“Oh, yes. I had to speak with him once because his nephew had fought a little that day. But let’s not talk about school tonight, we’re here to have fun after all !”

“That’s right, and I’m done with everyone’s makeup !” Minho speaks in as he approaches the men talking while wiping his hands. “Look at you, how comes you’re always giving your utmost with Halloween costumes ?”

“Halloween is my time of the year, dear.” Kibum laughs, giving his friend a hug. “I see you’ve been busy, did you help every kid ?”

“Yup ! They came with only their costumes in a bag so everything was done here. How long did we take to get everything ready, Baekhyun ?”

“Two hours I would say.” The teacher replies, glancing at the window while the newcomer gets surprised at the sudden informal talk. “But the sun is setting now so we should get started.”

Saying this, the young man claps his hands a few times to gather the six kids, who immediately stop their races and games to sit on their respective chair — Jinki, who sneakily joined his boyfriend’s side, shows him how each chair has a name written on its back. The two couples remain quiet as they watch Baekhyun explain the rules to respect once they will be outside for their sweets hunt. All children are looking at him, paying attention and showing their best side. Jonghyun and Minho can’t help but stare at their son with pride, although Taemin isn’t that calm and silent when they’re home.

When the teacher is done, Kibum starts moving as he expects the hunt to start, but he’s surprised by a language he doesn’t know. Looking up with raised eyebrows, he realizes Baekhyun is repeating himself while looking at a particular kid dressed as a ghost — quite tall for his age, his doe eyes staring at the adult’s lips.

“This one is Yukhei.” Minho slightly leans on to whisper to his best friend’s ear, Jinki listening as well. “He is from Hong Kong but he arrived only three months ago so he can’t understand Korean  yet, except basics salutations and a couple of questions you ask a teacher during class.”

“I see…” His elder nods. “How old is he ? He’s tall…”

“He’s four years old.”

“You’re kidding ?”

“I was the same when I was his age, it doesn’t really bother me. Jonghyun is bothered.”

“I’m not.” The flaming blue haired man retorts though he keeps looking at the kids.

“So… Kibum told me there are three foreign kids ?” Jinki asks. “Who are the other two ?”

The oldest man just has time to finish his question when Baekhyun switches languages again, this time looking at the boy who chose to be dressed as a particularly notorious clown — Pennywise, character from a not-really-for-children movie. This makes Kibum frown.

“Does he know the clown he’s dressed as ?” He can’t help but ask. “I almost pissed my pants watching that movie and I’m twenty-seven, don’t tell me he knows about it ? What is he, four ?”

“Five, and he only asked me to paint his face like a clown in a horror movie.” His tall friend laughs. “He doesn’t really know what I did to him, but I’m glad you recognized the character. I might have some talent.”

“Sure, Frankenstein. How did he ask, since the teacher is talking to him in another language ?”

“He’s been here for two years now so he speaks a bit more than basic Korean. Enough to ask me something without stuttering ! He’s doing well but he’s already bilingual, he speaks English.”

“That explains why the teacher is speaking in English now…” The crow man wonders. “Why not the kid’s mother tongue ?”

“He is from Thailand, but Baekhyun doesn’t speak thai so. I would love to tell you his name but I can’t memorize it. Taemin calls him Ten, and the other kids too.”

Both men nod and keep listening to Baekhyun, who’s lifting his fingers one after another as he announces the rules to the kid nicknamed Ten. Kibum mentally bets on the next and last kid he will addresses… but finds himself completely wrong. The young teacher crouches before the smallest, and certainly the youngest kid of the group and asks him if he understood what he just told his classmate. The child seems to hesitate but he eventually shakes his head, what makes the adult smile and repeat his words, in English as well. Slowly, using hands gestures as well.

“English again ?” Jinki raises his eyebrows.

“Mark is Canadian.” Jonghyun replies, beating his husband to it. “But he’s only three so even in his mother tongue, it’s still a bit difficult. Even more when he’s also learning Korean.”

“Three years old… is it good for him to be in this class ?”

“More than you think, because since he’s learning two languages at the same time, it’s better for him to be in a smaller class with few other kids who also are in his case, than in a big group with only kids who talk better, if I can say.”

“You got a point.” Kibum agrees. “He’s so cute, look at him pouting while listening…”

“Taemin is taking this habit, he thinks it will work the same with us and we will give him everything he wants.” Minho quietly laughs. “He wanted to have red eyes to go with his costume and when we explained him that he was way too young for lenses, he just pouted, thinking we would give in to him.”

“And then he said that uncle Kibum would let him, so we were mean parents for around ten minutes.” Jonghyun adds, smiling.

“Since the day I bought him an ice cream behind your back, he thinks I would give him absolutely everything without you knowing.” Their friend rolls his eyes with a smile. “I don’t know if he’s smart or a cute dummy.”

Before they can go on with their not so discreet conversation, the four adults get interrupted by Baekhyun clapping his hands once as he’s done with his speech. The six kids get up all together and go to the low coat rail next to the door, putting their jackets on — with their teacher’s permission, they keep it open so their costume isn’t hidden. The couples smile at the way two kids quickly offer their help to their youngest friend, the little Mark struggling to slip his small coat on because of his pumpkin costume.

“We’re ready to go.” Baekhyun tells his fellow adults as he catches his keys. “Kids must stay all together during the whole outing, but I’m not worried, they have no struggle sticking together.”

“We’ll just make sure they don’t run everywhere.” Jonghyun replies. “Do they have bags ?”

“Yes, I bought some. They have each a pumpkin shaped bag so there’s no jealousy !”

“Excellent.”

Following the teacher’s instructions, Jinki and Minho leave the classroom and wait at the school’s door. While Jonghyun and Kibum will bring up the rear, the six children catch their respective bag and line up by pairs, holding hands — this cute show causes a nervous giggle from the Hades-dressed man.

“Don’t forget, while we’re outside, you keep your friend’s hand in yours !” Baekhyun reminds the kids before letting them leave the classroom two by two, pretending to count them to keep the habit. “Taemin and Jongin, check ! Taeyong and Mark, check ! Yukhei and Ten, check ! We’re free to go.”

The last two adults follow them, switching the lights off, and the whole group is finally heading to their mischievous sweets hunt.

__________________________

Half an hour passed and the streets are full of children wearing various costumes, their adult relatives not always playing this game but showing their involvement in other ways. For sure, the joyfully spooky group wandering with five grown adults disguised for the occasion and six kids blathering around them draws people’s attention. Among them, Jonghyun and Kibum definitely catch a few children’s eye, to the point they even took pictures with perfect strangers… making their own bunch of monsters jealous.

But these little mishaps are quickly forgotten as the pumpkin shaped bags are getting filled more and more by time passing. People opening their doors always come with their hands full of sweets, some with homemade pastries containing pumpkin or lollipops with ghosts, bats or spiders shapes. What makes the school’s group more special is the way three voices stand out when shouting the famous trick or treats, their respective accent or light pronunciation mistakes easy to hear. It only moves whoever they visit to ask for their sweet treasure, the cute little Mark often getting an extra piece.

But night is falling and it becomes darker outside, which forces the teacher to gather his students and keep them around to always have an eye on them. If they were given some freedom at the beginning, though they were well watched, it isn’t possible anymore and Baekhyun earns some pouts and whines in return. Fortunately, a simple stare from him added to Jonghyun and Minho’s quiet, disapproving look is enough for all children to stop any attempt of protesting. It is announced that they will resume their hunt for twenty more minutes before heading back to the school, and it’s Kibum who soothes the sudden tensed atmosphere.

“Kids, what’s with those faces ?” He asks, crouching to be at their eyes’ level. “It’s like a race, isn’t it ? Let’s gather as many sweets we can within twenty minutes, then you will all be rewarded by the biggest cake you’ve ever seen !”

“Cake ?” Yukhei’s eyes seem to light up as he perfectly understood that word.

“Yes, a cake I made especially for you, but it grew a head on our way to the school ! What if we spend too much time outside and it grows legs ? And runs away ?”

“Oh no !” Jongin and Taemin cry out, making the adults giggle since they’re the oldest children in the group, yet the most oblivious about the trick.

“See ?” Jonghyun smiles while he leans on to wipe some dirt on his son’s cheek — how did he even get it ? “We must be fast if we don’t want the cake to escape. So no more talking, it’s wasting time ! Go, fetch some more candies !”

The previous disappointment makes space for a whole new excitement, five little heads bouncing away as they start running to another house. Despite him calling them back to respect the rule, Baekhyun finds himself completely out of the picture ; as he follows them close, he’s joined by Minho who tends to have a well-needed authority on all these kids. The only child who doesn’t follow is Mark, the boy holding his bag of candies with both his small hands and yawning.

“Are you alright, sweetheart ?” The Hades-dressed man asks him, making the kid look up at him with innocent eyes.

“You okay ?” Kibum asks in his turn, choosing English and pointing at the bag. “Want me to hold this ?”

“Ho’d me pwease.” Mark answers as he stretches his arms towards the horned man and drops his treasure.

Surprised at first, the adult hesitates but is quickly defeated by the child’s adorable pout ; instead of taking him in his arms, he crouches and lets Jinki place Mark on his shoulders.

“Hold there.” The oldest man says as he motions the boy’s hands to the horns. “Don’t let them go !”

Once the kid is safe and resting on Kibum’s shoulders, his little face fitting perfectly between the horns with his chin on the top of the adult’s head, the latter’s boyfriend picks the bag up and puts some fallen sweets inside before the four of them join the group of monsters threatening neighbors with evil tricks and laughters. Although one of the children isn’t with his friends, Taeyong is always making sure to ask for extra candies, showing their younger classmate behind with his polite hand to prove he’s not asking for himself.

The twenty minutes go by rather quickly, neither the kids nor the adults realizing it. At some point, Minho is holding Ten on his back and Yukhei’s hand in his, while the other three are still way too excited to stay still. It’s almost chaos, but the return to school isn’t as bad as it could have been. The five men manage to make the whole group walk back without even telling them it’s the way back. It’s only when they recognize the building’s yellow door and stickers on the windows that they understand.

Before any of them can protest, Baekhyun opens the door and calls each of their name, telling them that to enter they must show their treasure. He pretends to inspect the bags’ content and to hesitate to let some enter… what makes them even more eager to actually go inside. Eventually, they’re all back in the classroom, sitting around the gathered tables and showing each other their finds. During the meantime, Minho and Jinki bring an extra table for all adults to fit — though they must sit on the floor since it’s quite low.

Within a few minutes and before some of the kids can start bickering about their respective amount of candies, their improvised dinner arrives on the table and leaves them in awe. It’s only a few sandwiches, but cut in pieces that form the shapes of several Halloween creatures and objects — pumpkins, bats, witches’ hats or ghosts. The flavors are different to suit everyone’s taste, and both kids and adults don’t need to be asked twice before they start devouring whatever is under their reach.

The whole table is a joyful mess of chit-chat and sharing of food among the children ; Taeyong keeps grabbing new pieces of sandwiches and gives them to his friends before taking one for himself, which touches the adults’ hearts. So young and already so caring… while Taemin is literally kneeling on his chair and almost throwing his body on the table to catch what he wants, to the despair of his parents.

“Are you behaving like that at home ?” Minho frowns at him, making his son immediately sit properly and offer both his open hands so his father can give him the sandwich he wants. “That’s better, eat well. Babe, what do you want ?”

“I’m saving myself for later, don’t mind me.” Jonghyun smiles, though he blushes at the way he’s called by his husband in front of so many people. “Eat, I’m waiting for the cake.”

“Yah, will you ask me what I want ?” Kibum suddenly teases his boyfriend, the latter immediately straightening up and swallowing his own food. “No, Jinki, I’m kiddi—”

“There, a whole plate for you !” Jinki offers him a few pieces at once and pouring water in his glass. “Want more, baby ?”

“You asked for it, why are you even blushing.” The tallest man laughs heartily, nudging his best friend whose face turned red.

“Can I have ?”

Mark’s sudden intervention as he pokes Kibum’s arm and points at a sandwich is welcomed with quite a relief from the latter. The horned man immediately grants the kid’s request and makes sure to give him all the attention he needs to forget about his annoying friends — sometimes he hates himself for indeed asking for it and not owning up to what he’s done. He’s so sweating after a few minutes that he makes the huge mistake to remove his headdress and scares the youngest children, what obviously is another occasion for him to be kindly mocked by his friends.

He finds a way to escape and breathe some fresh air when no more sandwich can be seen on the table and it’s thus time for dessert. As he stands up and heads to the kitchen, Jinki following him to lend a hand and stealing him some kisses to make up for earlier, all kids pile their plates up and put all rubbish in one, just like they’re taught at the canteen. As soon as they’re done, they can’t help but stand gaping with their eyes sparkling, when the trolley with the cake finally makes its entrance.

In fact, it’s the biggest cake they’ve ever seen ! And just like Kibum said, there is a big head on the top !

“It didn’t grow legs !” Taemin shouts with his tiny, excited voice as he applauds, imitated by his classmates.

“No, it didn’t !” Jinki smiles. “That’s because you went fast earlier, it didn’t have time. It takes almost an hour to grow two legs !”

“Woah, that’s long !” Jongin widens his eyes and stares at his own legs. “Mine are short, I think it wasn’t as long.”

As soon as Taemin answers his best friend, adults know it’s a lost case ; they take advantage of the smart-like discussion that has all other kids staring at the two talking, to cut the cake. It’s quite a hard task, for the dessert is big and its creator wants each child to have a similar portion to avoid jealousy. It takes a few minutes but every plate is eventually filled with a big slice of cake, a few sugar paste characters and a part of the white chocolate skull. Naturally, adults get a bigger portion but it doesn’t seem to bother the kids.

They’re too busy covering their chin and cheeks with sugar and chocolate, filling their mouths before they even empty them. Just like them, Jonghyun is not hiding himself behind his “responsible parent’s status” anymore, as he devours the cake like he hasn’t eaten anything in weeks.

“I still can’t reduce his sugar consommation.” Minho sighs, pretending to be out of patience. “How can I make Taemin understand why he can’t eat so much sugar if I have this person doing the opposite ? How ?”

“You’re exaggerating, I only eat candies when he doesn’t look.” His husband retorts, filling his mouth again. “It’s too good.”

“I can grant you that. It’s really good, but damn… must have been long to bake that.”

“Tell me about it !” Kibum laughs. “I got up at eight to do the groceries and started baking right after I got home. I’ve been in the kitchen all day long, it’s a relief that Jinki came back from work early.”

“You were almost done when I came to help.” The latter smiles, rarely comfortable when being praised. “My part was only the decoration.”

“It’s a success, that’s for sure.” Baekhyun comments, showing the kids. “Though I don’t know if we’ll finish it today. Do you mind if we keep it in the fridge and I’ll serve the rest tomorrow for dessert ?”

“Of course I don’t ! It’s better here than at my place, we’re supposed to be on a sugar diet.”

“Teach Jonghyun, please.”

Minho’s comment was welcomed by a gentle hit on his shoulder, his husband frowning and his cheeks filled with cake — which made the whole scene laughable. All adults keep talking, giving the children a bit of freedom as they’re done eating ; they wander around the classroom, playing with the available toys or digesting in a calm way. It was quite a big day for them, tiredness starting to make its presence felt as the clock shows half past eight.

It’s at around that time that the kids’ parents are supposed to come fetch them, and Baekhyun keeps alert to hear the intercom. As a way to wait and also to thank the four men for their help, he offers them a cup of coffee to finish this great dinner. Minutes flow by, the teacher occasionally standing up to go to the front door, letting a parent — or two — enter and come to the classroom. Jonghyun, Minho, Kibum and Jinki receive a lot of thanks for their volunteer job, letting Taemin’s parents know that he is always welcomed at their place for a sleepover.

The room is slowly getting empty, and while Jonghyun is holding his son against him, the latter feeling sleepy and sucking on his thumb as he’s being rocked, the other three men help with the cleaning. Taeyong is the last kid to leave and only Jongin remains since he’s sleeping at his best friend’s home tonight. Once everything is as new, more or less, it’s time for everyone to go home and get a well deserved rest. Minho struggles a bit to get Taemin dressed with his coat, the boy half sleeping in his other dad’s arms and not really responsive.

When they’re all warmly dressed and standing in the hallway, Jonghyun holding his now asleep son and his husband keeping the other boy’s hand in his, Baekhyun respectfully bows to express his gratitude.

“The kids really enjoyed this little party.” He says. “It wouldn’t have been possible without you so I thank you with all my heart. They’re working so hard during school days, I’m glad they could have this break for such a good occasion.”

“There is no need to thank us.” Jinki answers, smiling. “We had fun too.”

“They’re all adorable, it was nice being here.” Kibum nods. “Don’t hesitate if you ever need help again, I’m not sure we can be available but you can always ask.”

“I will. And I might see you again, if you ever come for Taemin at the end of a day ?”

“Certainly !”

“We will go, now.” Minho says, a tint of mischief in his eyes. “Should we expect another little party once we get closer to Christmas ?”

Laughing, Baekhyun puts his finger against his lips to keep the secret, before he leads his guests to the back door. With one last goodbye and bow, they separate and head to the parking lot. Taemin and Jongin get in the first car, sitting well in their car seat — there is always a spare one in case — and the adults hug each other.

“Thanks for coming.” Jonghyun says as he hugs Kibum. “It was really good, you didn’t have to do so much though.”

“It was my pleasure, don’t worry.” The other man winks at his friend. “And I was sure it wouldn’t only please the kids so I’m proud.”

“Do you want to come over this Saturday evening ?” Minho asks. “It’s been a while since we had dinner together.”

“Hmm… Alright, but I’m bringing the dessert.”

“That’s fine with me !”

“Perfect. Go, you’ll catch a cold, standing here. See you, text me when you’re home.”

“Yes dad.”

Shaking his head, the tallest man gets in the car, imitated by his husband who takes place behind the wheel. Both Jinki and his fiancé get in their and they leave all together. On their way, Kibum looks at the few pictures he took on his phone during the whole evening, never missing an occasion to make precious memories with his nephew — and tonight, with five other kids he kinda wants to see again sometimes.

“I will send this one to Mr Byun.” He says, showing a picture of all kids with their treasure to his boyfriend when they stop at a red light. “It would be great if he can hang it in the classroom.”

“Send it to Jonghyun too, he will like it.” Jinki smiles, hitting the road again once the light turns green. “Did you have fun ?”

“Yes, lots of fun. You didn’t talk much, though.”

“I enjoy things rather quietly, you know that. But I will certainly come forward if we’re being invited again. These kids are really kind.”

“Did you see how the little one always came to me ? I thought I was going to melt.”

“Does it make you want to have a child of your own ?”

“I’ve wanted one for a while, even since Taemin arrived in our life… But let’s get married before, okay ?”

“Of course, love. And until then, we might see these five again for Christmas… who knows ?”

“Who knows…”

Smiling, Kibum keeps looking at his phone during the whole way back. Even when they get home, he tells his fiancé that he will join him in the living room later, as himself goes to his room. There, he takes his tablet and stylus, sending himself the picture of the children and opening his favourite editing application. Meticulously, he decorates the sober photography by drawing Halloween ornaments here and there, without making it too overbearing.

He makes sure to write each kid’s name above their head or under their feet: Taemin the vampire, Jongin the skeleton, Taeyong the cute Darth Vader, Ten the terrific but adorable Pennywise, Yukhei the ghost and Mark the little pumpkin. He then notices the perfect empty space on top of the picture.

There, after a long reflection, he finds the words he wants. After he put the date in the bottom right-hand corner, he writes a title in a funny font that suits the occasion : “A super spooky night”.

End

[syntheticmask]

Questions and Repairs (A Metallic Fate Chapter 2)

Bendy belongs to theMeatly. AU belongs to me. Please let me know what you think! Cross-posted on Fanfiction.net and Ao3.

‘No, no, no no nonononono-' My mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, recollecting memories and connecting two and two together. My most recent experience came rushing back to me, and suddenly I was back as a human.

I had just made it past the Ink Demon and through the vents, sighing in relief as I stepped out of the cramped space. The room was well lit, but I decided to keep the flashlight with me in case of any potential threats. It could use as a useful weapon if needed. To my left was a few steps leading around a fence and to a closed pair of doors, with a couch leaning against the wooden railing. To my right, a stone Bendy statue had collapsed and lay broken on the ground, revealing posters advertising the Briar Label Bacon Soup, and the Hellfire Fighter cartoon behind it. I was still confused as to why Bendy was holding a utensil in each hand for the first poster. A few barrels and chairs were scattered around the room.

In front of me lay a few flights of stairs leading upwards and into a giant Bendy mouth. It wasn't the cutest thing around, and more than a little creepy. A Little Miracle station and a Bendy cardboard cutout lay against the wall next to the base of the steps. Unfortunately it seemed that was the only way up, as entertained by the inky writing on the lopsided wooden board reading, "Come up and see me." I stepped over the large broken stones as I made my way to the stairs. Another writing greeted me on top of the first flight. "Almost there."

At the top was a decently sized room with a large round table in the center. A map of the Bendyland amusement park covered the entire surface, with small simple models sitting atop a few of the main buildings. Bulletin boards lined the walls, filled with drawings and concepts for what appeared to be an amusement park. On the table also sat a tape recording by Bertrum Piedmont. I hit play on the old device.

"For forty years, I've built attractions that stagger the imagination! Colossal wonders such as the world has never seen! I have earned my legacy with sweat.

But right in front of everyone… high level investors. Wall street tycoons, the ever-tactless Joey Drew introduces the great Bertrum Piedmont, as Bertie! Like I was his child.

You may be paying me, Mister Drew! But you don't own me! I'll build you a park bigger that anything YOU could ever possibly conceive! But before you go taking any bows, Mister Drew, know that this grand achievement will belong to me… and to me alone."

I wasn't really all too interested in the recording after a couple seconds. Not much information to obtain. Seemed like his ego was just as big as Drew's. Instead, my attention was drawn towards the lever on the other side of the room labeled with a lightning bolt above it. Seemed like that was the way to power open the door downstairs, hopefully.

I pulled the lever, and I could hear the thick metal doors opening up into the unexplored area. I circled back around the table and made my way down the stairs, briefly noticing that large pipes of ink and cages hanging from the ceiling. Before I could make it much further to the open door, inky veins suddenly lined the walls, and my heartbeat pounded in my ears. Everything pointed to only one thing. Bendy was right behind me!

I took off running, stumbling over the large blocks of stone. I was already halfway across, and there was no way I'd be able to make it to the station by the stairs. His inky aura trailed close behind me, getting closer as I struggled to get to the open door. I could just hear his deep breathy growls. I needed to find another Little Miracle Station, fast. I flew down a flight of stairs, spotting a large sign above the doorway but didn't take any chances at reading it. To my right a few lines of shelves and large bags blocked my access from the rest of the room, and what looked like theme park stalls sat against the wall to my left. An open door right before the stalls caught my attention, and I sprinted through them. A table sat before a few creepy Bendy costumes that hung on hidden hangers. That's all there was in the dead end. I quickly spun back around and bolted forward towards the other side of the room. The inky veins were closer, already past my feet. That detour had cost me some of my lead ahead of him.

The large doors set behind another wooden railing were shut tight, but an open station positioned against the end of the shelf caught my attention. I nearly shouted in glee, until I spotted the door laying detached against its side. In desperation, I took the open set of doors to my left labeled 'Research and Design.’

I was greeted with a balcony overlooking members of the Butcher Gang huddled around a flaming barrel. Two pathways split off either side of the group. Suspended from the ceiling was a giant cartoon arm. The upper floor ended on the other side next to another smaller Bendy statue.

I took my chances with the stairs, sprinting towards the closest path. The left. The disfigured toons gave their best attempts at hitting me. I ignored them, death literally seconds behind me was a much greater worry. Bendy's inky aura quickly took care of them before they even had any chance to run away.

I swung around the corner, barely registering the Lost One's quite cries before my hope vanished from existence. A dead end… and no Miracle Station. Just a lifeless, disassembled robot on the table, a broken Ink Maker, and some more stupid writing on the wall. The deep growls of the Demon were hot on my neck. I scrambled away, dropping my flashlight before my back soon connected with the Ink Maker. I tried to get as far as possible from the inky abomination, and so I dropped down under the table holding the animatronic, not caring about the puddle of ink soaking into my clothes, and curled up against the wall in a fetal position. I was trapped. This was it.

Bendy's smile seemed to vibrate a little more, his shoulders shaking in a silent laugh. He had caught his prey. I wished I could pass through the walls like he could. Instead I only curled in more on myself with tears spilling down my cheeks. The liquid created small, clear streaks down my ink-covered and bruised face, soft hiccups emanating from my throat.

"Please… please no…" It was pointless to try and reason with him. The Ink Demon took his time, seeming to enjoy my quiet plea at mercy. Closer and closer he came, until he knelt just inches away from me. He seemed to try and get a few more pleas out of me, but I remained silent as my sobbing got louder. He huffed in disappointment, instead reaching out his gloved hand of death. Struggling against it was useless, but I still tried to move away from the appendage. My attempt to doge failed. I shut my eyes tightly, and the last thing I remembered was his crushing grip around my throat, and the sickly snap that followed.

I shivered at the recollection, heart racing as I tried to calm myself down. 'Do I even have a heart..?' I held my hand over what was now my chest, feeling for anything underneath the metal… There! A slow, faint, but constant beat. A heartbeat. I sighed in relief. I don't know why I was relieved, but I suppose it was a good feeling to know I still had some part of my humanity left. Everything else was gone, except for my memories. I just held my hand over my chest, the beat calming, and I took a moment just to zone out everything else… A minute passed, and then two. Once I had almost completely calmed down, I opened up my thoughts again, focusing on my current situation with a new curiosity.

I was alive… somehow. My body, or soul at least, took refuge in this animatronic. That's what I was currently assuming. I had no clue why, or how. From my previous conversations with other ink creatures, souls who have died down here are claimed by the ink, and are often trapped in a well of voices. Most have experienced it for themselves, and some of their minds have broken because of it. I had no recollection of any such thing. Either I didn't remember it, or I was never trapped there.

The dark liquid leaking from my severed ends was ink, not oil. Well, I was certainly made of ink now, at least on the inside. I tried to answer a few of my questions about the matter. I mean, why did my soul choose this body? 'Likely because it was the closest thing around, as well as the fact that it could be used as a vessel despite being disassembled. Less work.' How did it manage to inhabit the robot? 'Probably something to do with the ink.' How did ink even get inside this thing? That I was stumped on. There was no exposed pipes around the area, at least none that I recalled that were leaking. Though I definitely could've missed something from my blind panic earlier.

I decided to take a breather from all the questions floating around in my head. I glanced back down at my partially dismembered body, which reminded of the puddle of ink under my spine. Was.. was I bleeding out? Worry started forming in the pit of my stomach again. I was tired, and weak, but it could have just been from the body transfer in general, or the ink loss... Or both. The ink seemed to have formed some sort of clot over the open wounds, or otherwise I would likely have bled to death before I even had a chance of waking up. I was extremely thankful I hadn't.

'Breath… just breath.' I told myself, taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly. Seems that I also had lungs, that was a good sign. I wondered what other organs I still had… I mentally shook myself off that topic. I could answer those later. For now, a plan sounded like a good idea. I liked being organized. 'Let's see…'

"First step..?" Looks like I could still speak too, not that shouting out of sheer bewilderment earlier was any indication. I was very glad about it, I would have hated to be mute. My voice sounded… odd though. Still young and feminine, but there was something else I couldn't put my finger on… hold on, didn't the robot have a speaker for a mouth? It certainly looked like it earlier. But, my voice sounded just fine, like I had a regular voice box, and a normal moving mouth and jaw. I knew for a fact that my body didn't have any method of moving its mouth earlier. I reached out my hand to feel around the unmasked part of my face. My teeth felt just like those big blocky ones Bendy had, and they seamlessly split apart when I opened my mouth. Surprisingly the ends felt sharper than I would have expected. I could also feel a tongue hiding behind my teeth as well.

I felt around the side of my face next, finding a circular hinge where my jaw would have been. It rotated whenever my mouth opened and closed. My body must have generated these parts while I was out, there was no other explanation. I then felt around my masked side of my face. My teeth felt the same, but my jaw opened without creating any gaps. It was as though my mask stretched downwards to fit over my jaw, no matter what position it was in. Also, how could I pronounce words without lips? "Cartoon physics…" It was a reasonable answer to the oddities. I didn't really feel like putting much more thought process into trying to figure it out, it was already weird enough.

"Where were we again…? Right, planning." Speaking out loud helped me think. "First step…" I looked down at my legs again. "Reattach my legs. Secondly, get a good look at my surroundings once I can actually stand up…" 'If I can stand up.' I quickly moved passed my doubts. "Thirdly, find something to eat. Pretty sure I still have a stomach." On that note, I was starting to feel something along the lines of hunger. "Fourth step, find a weapon, and possibly a mirror." The last part was a hopeful thought. I really wanted to get a better look at myself. "Fifth step, see if I can talk to anyone around here. Being alone for a long period of time won't do any good for my mental state…" 'Like that Lost One over there.' I noticed the faint cries of inky being were still audible. I supposed I was too focused on myself earlier to notice. I decided that was a good enough plan for now.

Alrighty, first step. Legs. There was no denying that I wouldn't be able to do much of anything without them. One missing arm was already annoying enough. The problem was… well, I think it was pretty evident. 'How the hell am I supposed to do that?' It was a damn big problem. Well, firstly, I needed to actually align the two pieces. And so, with my right arm, I pushed myself over to my legs. After some straining and realigning my torso, I managed to line myself up decently enough.

I remembered there being a toolbox on the edge of the table, one of those small rectangular ones that were littered all over the place. I spotted it to my left. I tried to hook my left arm underneath the handle… it was too thick. If it was cut off at one of the thinner pieces, I would have been able to do it. Oh well, not that I wanted more of my arm missing. Instead, I had to hook my arm over the handle, catching it between my thinner and thicker sections. I dragged it closer, careful not to tip it over. Soon enough I got it close enough where I could open it with my right hand.

Inside lay a variety of wrenches, screwdrivers, nuts, bolts and screws. I wasn't much of a mechanic, but I was decent enough with tools to know how to repair most common devices. I propped myself up on my partial left arm to reach inside with my right. My metal hand didn't seem to interfere with my sense of touch, oddly enough. As I was rummaging through the many choices, however, an odd feeling started to form from the base of my spine. When I looked back in confusion, my eyes widened in surprise.

Tendrils of ink protruded from the end of my spine. They stretched forward, and I could feel them moving over the metal and finding holds on the other pieces. They worked around the broken wires, pulling severed ends together and wrapping around the damaged metal. Wires fused and metal mended, all while I watched in astonishment. After what seemed like a few minutes, the ink seemed to melt away, leaving behind a repaired spinal column, almost like it was never damaged. What remained was a thin ring of dark stained metal, similar to a scar, with dried lines of ink pointed towards my legs.

Feeling slowly began to return to my legs. It felt as though whatever ink was stored up inside of me was flowing down into my reattached part. Before I could continue on with my train of thought, a wave of dizziness suddenly hit me. I leaned my head back against the table, closing and covering my eyes with my arm to avoid staring directly into the bright light and to clear my foggy mind. As the ink in my body continued to work on filling and repairing my lower section, my mind decided to take a short break from consciousness. A nap sounded wonderful right about now...

[b-random]

Survey

Taken from @fiaspice​

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? Cereal.

2: do you like the feeling of cold air on your cheeks on a wintery day? No. Not much of a fan of cold weather.

3: what random objects do you use to bookmark your books? Usually the receipt.

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? Cold, with ice, without the coffee.

5: are you self-conscious of your smile? Yes.  Getting self conscious about a lot actually.

6: do you keep plants? Just planted some tonight in fact.

7: do you name your plants? no, but I might.

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? Not much anymore.  But I really want to try acrylic paint pouring.

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Yes.  Or to my cats. Or steering wheel.

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? sides

11: what’s an inner joke you have with your friends? If I catch my employee at work not using her safety gloves, I ask her where her hand is and she responds by singing “IT ISN’T IN MY GLOOOOOOVE” (to the tune of Shawn Mendes’ “In My Blood”)  That’s the only one I can think of that doesn’t require ridiculous amounts of explanation.

12: what’s your favorite planet? Earth.  Couldn’t live without it. 

13: what’s something that made you smile today? Christy and Fraser on 101.5 Today Radio had a contest called “Chereoke” to win Cher tickets and some of the contestants’ attempts at singing Cher was hilarious.

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? Hopefully it would be a rustic/industrial combo style loft with at least one exposed brick wall, exposed duct work, metal and wood finishes.

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is!: Halley’s comet won’t orbit past Earth again until 2061... I’ll probably be dead.

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? Tortellini with a creamy rosé sauce.

17: what color do you really want to dye your hair? I’m bald so this question is just cruel.

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. After a friend of mine told me he had unprotected sex with his ex girlfriend on a booty call, I arranged for a bouquet of fruit to be delivered to his work on father’s day with a sonogram attached to it.  He’s a darker skinned guy but his face went white as snow.  It doesn’t sound like much, but his mom heard about the prank at her work several blocks away.

19: do you keep a journal? what do you write/draw/ in it? I don’t.  This blog is the closest thing I have to that.

20: what’s your favorite eye color? Blue.

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. I don’t have a favourite bag.

22: are you a morning person? I would say so.  I’m not so much of a night owl anymore.

23: what’s your favorite thing to do on lazy days where you have 0 obligations? I literally sit on my couch all day and do nothing but watch netflix and dick around on my phone.

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? Don’t think so. 

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? Can’t say I’ve ever broken into anywhere.  At least, not anywhere memorable.

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? I don’t have an exciting answer for this, but I have a pair of Puma shoes that have been around for 4-5 years.

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Watermelon

28: sunrise or sunset? Sunrise.

29: what’s something really cute that one of your friends does and is totally endearing? One of my friends makes it a point to build her other female friends up at any and all costs.

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared? The only thing I can think of is when I was probably 5 years old I was at a water park and I was supposed to go down the water slide but I was so scared that I couldn’t do it.  My family went down before me so I was stuck at the top screaming and crying.

31: what is your opinion of socks? do you like wearing weird socks? do you sleep with socks? do you confine yourself to white sock hell? I mostly wear white socks because I wear pretty heavy duty shoes at work and so anything else gets ruined.  But if I’m going out or doing something, I usually like a bit of colour.

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends? I'm told that one time at about 4:00 in the morning I went to my neighbours house and was knocking on their garage door for about half an hour singing songs, but I don’t remember that.

33: what’s your fave pastry? Creme puffs.

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? I had a Popple. (Remember Popples?! The Popples still make me smile.) Well, I had several, but my favourite was PC - specifically Sports PC.  I don’t still have him anymore and I’m pretty sad about that.  But his tail did fall off at one point and oddly enough, I still have his tail!

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? I usually end up buying stationery items that I never use.

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? My mood has been 100% Carly Rae Jepsen since Dedicated came out last Friday.

37: do you like keeping your room messy or clean? My room is often messy, but that doesn’t mean I like it that way.

38: tell us about your pet peeves!? People who use incorrect phrases like “Once and a while” or when people say “should of” instead of “should’ve”

39: what color do you wear the most? Probably black.

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? I have no jewellery.

41: what’s the last book you remember really, really loving? Hunger Games.  I haven’t really enjoyed too many books since then.  I’ve been trying to read the Harry Potter series but I’m only moderately enjoying them.

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? I do not.

43: who was the last person you gazed at the stars with? Frick it’s been so long since I’ve done that.  Probably a guy who I hooked up with several years ago.  I don’t even remember his name.

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? The last time I went to the mountains.  It’s been close to a year.

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Sometimes to a fault.

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of.?  Time flies like an arrow.  Fruit flies like a banana.

47: what food do you think should be banned from the universe? Seafood.

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? Heights. I’m still afraid of them, but now I’d say I’m more scared of things like the ocean and space.

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? I really do.  Especially the ones I really like.  Most recent was Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Dedicated” album.

50: what’s an odd thing you collect?  I don’t collect much anymore.  I used to collect Coca-Cola memorabilia, though.

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? "Your Type” by Carly Rae Jepsen.  I swear I listen to other artists and bands besides CRJ, but she seems to be fitting a lot of the questions here.

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? Those comics on Instagram with the aliens explaining everyday human activities.

53: have you ever watched the rocky horror picture show? heathers? beetlejuice? pulp fiction? what do you think of them? Beetlejuice is the only one of those that I’ve seen in full.  Haven’t seen it in probably 20 years so it’s time I give it another go.

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? My mom after my sister did some stupid things last week and was super cruel to her after.

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? I can’t remember

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? Selflessness, genuine dorkiness.

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? I didn’t reenact the lyrics, but I did sing and reenact the scene from Wayne’s World.

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? Neither of them.

59: what’s your favorite myth? I still find the whole Bermuda Triangle thing to be interesting.

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? I don’t know any poetry.

61: what’s the stupidest gift you’ve ever given? the stupidest one you’ve ever received? Oh god, I’m a terrible gift giver so I couldn’t possibly narrow it down to just one.  Stupidest gift I’ve ever received was a Starbucks gift set.  I don’t drink coffee.

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? Well, I usually put fruit juice into my smoothies, so I guess yeah.  And whatever is available.

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? I have to keep them alphabetical except for my collections which are sorted by size of the collection.

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? Grey. Like it has been for the past week.

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? Yes.  I’ll call him K.

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Ideal flower crown is not a concept that is even remotely familiar to me.

67: how do gloomy days where the sky is dark and the world is misty make you feel? depressed.

68: what’s winter like where you live? Fucking long and unbearable. 

69: what are your favorite board games? Scategories, The Game of Life, etc.

70: have you ever used an ouija board? yeah

71: what’s your favorite kind of tea? Iced.

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? I could probably benefit from jotting more things down than I do.

73: what are some of your worst habits? Laziness.

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. Sassy and spunky, but equally kind and compassionate.

75: tell us about your pets! My babies are not babies anymore.  They’re feline brother and sister and I’ve had them for more than 15 years.  He’s black and my bestest little buddy.  She cost me an invitation to my sister’s wedding and I have NO REGRETS about it at all.

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? The dishes from dinner.

77: pink or yellow lemonade? pink I guess?

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? I find them entertaining, but I wouldn’t put myself in either club.

79: what’s one of the cutest things someone has ever done for you? Can’t think of anything right now.

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? C2 Coconut. Essentially they’re a soft white. I did not choose that colour.  It was the builder’s choice and I just haven’t gotten around to painting it yet. Soon one wall is going to be a metallic denim-like blue. 

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. Crystal ball reflecting tropical waters.

82: are/were you good in school? ish.

83: what’s some of your favorite album art? Michael Jackson’s Dangerous, Social Code’s Rock N Roll or Spice Girls Spice.

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? I have a concept in mind that combines Spice Girls, Power Rangers and LGBT pride.  It’s just a matter of designing and getting it done.

85: do you read comics? what are your faves?  Don’t read comics.

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? The only concept album I can think of is Green Day’s American Idiot.  That one wore thin on me quickly.

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Kingsman: Secret Service, Jurassic Park, Twister, and it’s not a movie but I’m going to say The Haunting of Hill House.

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? Acrylic Paint Pouring

89: are you close to your parents? yeah

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. Ehh... Haven’t really explored many places recently and I’m feeling less enthusiastic about Calgary these days.  I’ll pass on this one.

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? I’ll be in Massachusetts this time next week.  Boston and Provincetown.  I’m excited as I’ve never been there.

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? Out of those two options, drowns in cheese.

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? Shaved.

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My friend Ashley’s birthday was on Saturday.

95: what are your plans for this weekend? Packing and working.

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? Only once it is forced upon me.

97: myer briggs type, zodiac sign, and hogwarts house? INTP-T, Libra, Puffnstuff

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? Last May.  Need to change that very, very soon.

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. I couldn’t even begin to name those songs right now. 

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? I’d probably go back 5 years.  Whether I’m happy with my life or not, I don’t want to miss any of it.

[blackrose-ffxiv]

Book of Shadows 07/24

Lebeaux Desrosiers gestured for the others to follow him further along, passing over the office and the clinic to settle himself on his usual perch. He patted the cloth-and-rosary-wrapped book that was already waiting on the ledge.

“Um...if...if I m-may ask, what is the nature of the beaded cord you use t-to bind the book? Is it enchanted? Rinha'li Dhavha: It looks like...“ Rinha’li Dhavha trailed off, looking for a specific word.   

"You may. It's a Halonic Rosary. It's blessed, which I suppose is rather like enchanting it. It seemed a solid precaution." Lebeaux explained as he began unwrapping said protection.

“Oh, yes, um -- Rosary. That was the term.” Rinha'li leans forward, obviously wanting to touch the book but thinking better of it. For now.  

Geofferaut Derosiers followed Lebeaux, but came up short, eyes darting. There seemed to be some confusion about which location was best to stand, better view of the book or better view of the various exits.

Lebeaux didn’t seem particularly concerned about Geoff’s minor conflict of interests. He tucked the rosary into his pocket then slid the cloth-wrapped item towards Rinha’li. He instead picked up a cup and saucer, busying himself with tea without offering it to the others. Assuming Geoff wasn’t thirsty and Rin had other concerns.

Geofferaut's twitchy fingers found rest against the cover of his own book and settled on the appropriate vantage point.

Rinha'li unwraps the cloth delicately, and as fast as he can without risking damage to a potentially delicate object.

Geofferaut watched the book emerge like a lioness watches a gazelle limp to a watering hole.

The grimoire is old, but not ancient. Perhaps 10-15 years, mistreated for many of them. The leather is weathered and cracked, but not nearly as much so as an item that spent the last year or so at the bottom of a mud puddle should be. It seemed the muck hadn’t touched it at all. The lock latch no longer works. Standard issue for those in service to the Tribunal though someone had taken care to sand or dissolve away those distinguishing embellishments and embossing. There is definitely something -off- about it. The moment the enchanted cloth is unwrapped there’s a brief rippling. Or possibly a bit of dust floating across the eye, hard to tell as it was gone in a blink either way.

Rinha'li carefully opens it up to the first page to see what it contains -- if the previous owner had perhaps left an index, or introduction -- wincing slightly as the leather creaks in his grasp. But, books are sturdier things than many realize, and nothing breaks. "You s-say this was...lying at the bottom of a brackish pond or puddle?" he asks.

There is indeed an index of the standard issue geometries that came with the grimoire. Filling in the first quarter of the book with the same sort of spells one would find in any acanists’ text. The next quarter is home-made theories and accompanying geometries scattered with notes and observations in no discernable order. 

“That’s being generous as to the water content, to call it a puddle or pond. It was mud. A sinkhole, essentially.” Lebeaux glanced over, noting that Geoff had been staring at the tome for longer than he usually stared at anything. “Feel free to have a look as well, I’m sure Rin won’t mind. While you two are doing that, did you bring the contracts I told you to draw up?”

"No." Geofferaut addressed the book.

"Did you draw them up at all?"

"Yes." Geofferaut continued to address the book.

"... Lot of good they're doing sitting in your basement."

“O-oh, I mean, I have a copy of...of a standard client confidentiality agreement on hand at all times... “ Rinha'li offered, obviously distracted wtih the book. He scans the arcanima glyphs for interesting variants, but eagerly ends up flipping to the more experimental sections. Here, he traces his finger over some of the ink, feeling where the quill has dented the paper, leaning closer to see if he can discern the composition of the pigments.  

Geofferaut only breathed because it's an involuntary function of his body. Blinking seemed to have stopped.

“I asked him to draw up a non-disclosure agreement regarding our research. Essentially that no information will be shared with outside parties without the consent of all three of us.” Lebeaux noted. “Technically it should be my decision as I am the one who is organizing this project.” He took a moment to preen the cuffs of his sleeves and let that sink in. “Yet I thought it polite to share the credit since the two of you are doing most of the heavy lifting.”

The spells start in your standard inks, mixtures of heavy metals and a liquid but as they progress they begin to rely solely on blood mixtures from varying sources. Sometimes the same glyph written in several different variations. There was a heavy emphasis on the slow draining of health or vitality from the target in various forms. Restoratives or protective magicks abandoned within the last few chapters. The end of the book was upside down. The original owner had reversed the book to begin taking notes from back to front. It was a lot of nonsense to Lebeaux, punctuated with sketches of towers and walls and terrible attempts at poetry.

Rinha'li's hand rests on the sketches of a long, tall tower with haphazardly placed windows and thin catwalks issuing from it. The artist -- Lebeaux's mentor, presumably -- has attempted to indicate its immense height by surrounding it with dark charcoal scribblings, punctuated by a few hazy cloud shapes. No moon, no stars, and certainly no sun. "...did your mentor, um...c-complain of trouble sleeping? S...strange dreams?" he asks cautiously, not knowing what question will offend.

Lebeaux sniffed and took a sip of his tea. “We weren’t particularly close, you may just call him Ciceroix as I don’t suspect I learned enough from him to actually call him a mentor.” It was just easier than calling him the overzealous inquisitor he used to clean up after. “He seemed distracted, towards the end of our association. Possibly signs of exhaustion, could have been due to trouble sleeping.” Certainly not due to a guilty conscience.

“I know this tower.” Rinha'li says simply. “Have you ever seen it, Mister Lebeaux? Mister Geofferaut?”

"No." Geofferaut replied.

Lebeaux lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I haven’t entered the City. I was outside of the gates but I didn’t go in, nor did I notice any towers. Assuming that it is, actually, Amdapori?”

Rinha'li nods. "W-well...it's...it's quite...it's in the center of the city. It...c-cannot be seen from the outside, even though it's so tall it nearly reaches the sky...I...I d-don't know why, exactly. The white tower. The Sanctum of Dreams."

Lebeaux wrinkled his nose slightly. He reached over, gloved fingers flipping through some of the earlier portions of the grimoire, before the Inquisitor had the clever idea of hiding the crazy in the last pages. Around the same time the arcanima started to get extremely experimental and were mostly marked as failures, there were images embedded in the geometries mirroring the general shapes of the tower. “Sanctum of Dreams. What a pretentious name.” He sniffed. “So you believe he began to dream of this place and that is what finally pushed him over the edge?”

Geofferaut leaned forward when the experimental arcanima began to feature once more.

Rinha'li turns the next page very slowly, to reveal several lines of metrically complex but imaginatively bankrupt attempts at religious poetry framing rough drawings of a series of doors, each marked with an arcanima glyph. Rinha'li closes his eyes, worrying his bottom lip with his fangs at this sight. "I am near convinced," he says. Rinha'li has taken on a hushed, excited tone. He's happy to see this mad scrawling.  

“Didn’t excuse him from running off, but I suspect there’s some merit to what you’re saying.” Lebeaux didn’t particularly care either way. Looking at the book and its images too long was giving him something of a headache. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sliding glasses up and closing his eyes. “He thought he was hearing the ghosts of Amdapor and went trotting off to the Shroud to find some secrets to divine power.”

The scribbled line of marked doors might have passed for some kind of allegory, but as Rin leafs through the next few pages of experimental calculations, it's clear that doors of some kind were on the man's mind. They appear in the margins, as though it was something his mind returned to when idle and flowed out of his pen as unthinking scribbles. "Divine power, yes. Hm. D-divine indeed. I...did he ever t-try any experiments with his arcanima in your presence? Rinha'li's tail sweeps back and forth in wide, quick arcs.

Lebeaux shook his head, still rubbing at his nose. He finally gave up on the glasses, folding them up and tucking them away into his coat. No point to them around these two anyways. “I generally waited outside.” His hands settled on the teacup once again as he smiled primly at the miqo’te. “I offered you a look at the book previously yet I’m no longer feeling particularly inclined to give you further information. Seeing as you seem unable to grasp the concept of keeping your mouth shut.”

Geofferaut speaks under apparent duress, teeth gritted shut, lips barely parted, voice strained. "An. swer..."

Rinha'li's ears tilt towards Geofferaut. "...I-- I b-beg your pardon?"

Lebeaux looked quickly over at Geofferaut, somewhat startled by the reaction. He blinked blankly, the smile stuck in place.

Geofferaut does not rip his eyes off the grimoire. There is still an apparent struggle to form and force out words. "answer. the question."

Lebeaux still looked as though he’d been struck, more than a little surprised and perhaps unsettled. “I…” He started before he straightened up. “You’re no better than him, acting as though you’d throw over our research if Idristan asked for it. If I’m going to speak plainly and truthfully to you two I expect assurances that my words will never be repeated to anyone else.” He set the teacup down and folded his arms across his chest, fingers brushing against the rosary he had tucked away into his jacket.

"speak. child. or move." Seemed to be Geofferaut’s final warning.

Rinha'li opens his mouth to say something -- anything that will get him more information here, most likely -- but is cut off by Geoff's strange outburst. He too looks unsettled. "W--what--" He looks at the book again. He hadn't thought Geoff THAT ravenous to get at it...

“Perhaps just show him the book.” Lebeaux suggested as he shifted slightly along his perch a little closer to Rinha’li and the book. He cleared his throat, assuming that was as good as agreement that this remained between them. “Once or twice, when it got a little messy I was called in while he was still working.” He explained, speaking a little more quickly now as fingers curled around the beads as though they would do much of anything in this situation.

Rinha'li's ears flatten against his head, nearly disappearing into his hair. He seems reluctant to have the book leave his immediate vicinity, but he picks it up with the cloth and holds it out to Geoff with his fingers trembling on the spine. "T...tell me more," he mutters to Lebeaux.

Lebeaux remains well away from the book as its held out in offering, clutching his pear- rosary beads lightly under his coat. The smile had long since disappeared as his gaze darted between the grimoire and the other elezen. “Ciceroix was testing his theories on the accused. He was supposed to be interrogating them but it often turned in to experiments. One of the times I was called in he’d… ah, managed to turn someone inside out. There was nothing to be done for them.”

Geofferaut began the motion toward the book with a few rapid, interrupted jerks that smoothed out by the time the tome was in his hands.  Once possessed, the move to the platform is rapid. His own book fluttered open to a blank page beside it - it happened quickly, possibly without much help from his hands - and a pencil, definitely held with fingers, began scratching copies and copies and copies. Geofferaut seemed unconcerned by the proximity or lack thereof to Lebeaux's seat.

“You are C-CERTAIN he accomplished this with arcanima? D-did you see the formulae he--ah--um!” Rinha’li asked hurriedly.

“I’m not sure. There was no one else in there and I didn’t see any tools he could have used for such a thorough-“ Lebeaux trailed off as the book exchanged hands a bit abruptly, with Geofferaut immediately beginning to copy down the books contents, page by page. “Wait, that may be poorly advised. If this drivel drove him to madness what’s to stop it from doing the same to you.” He noted as he reached for the grimoire.

“The--the g-glyphs within ought n-not t-to be aetherically active unless t-transcribed with--with--active inks--um--”  Rinha'li, notably, has not attempted to transcribe anything into HIS notebook, however.  

Geofferaut 's face smoothed as he transcribed. His eyes remained fixed on Ciceroix's book, drawings left to form unobserved - though few would be surprised to learn that they seemed to form just fine without supervision.

Lebeaux slid the book away from Geofferaut, intending to snap it shut again. “It’s the book itself I’m rather wary of. The Hearer I took it from seemed convinced it’s capable of doing some harm on its own.”

Geofferaut dropped his pencil and flicked the now-vacant hand up to intercept Lebeaux's hand's path. But by golly it wasn't so empty. A gleam of metal stopped just shy of touching the sleeve at Lebeaux's wrist. "I do not require the book. I require the geometries."

Rinha'li has also started forward, intending to take a closer look at the book's binding, but also stops short at the wrist flick. For a moment he just stands there stock still, almost afraid to move. “I...I say, is that really necessary?” Rinha'li says, after a moment.

"Yes." Direct questions should be answered.

Lebeaux froze, fingers splayed but not quite touching the book when he saw the flash of metal. Right, the sleeve steel. “Hm.” Fair enough. Slowly he brought his hands back to himself, settling them in his lap to adjust the cuffs and ruffles. “As you like, then.” Perhaps he’d just let them copy it then. “Feel free to make your own copies.” He suggested to Rin. Lebeaux managed to sound only slightly sulky about the entirely situation rather than outright pouting.

 As quickly as it was there, the metal was gone and the pencil was back in motion.

@black-omen-born  @cellardoor-ffxiv

[digimonreviews]

Perfect Digimon Wednesdays: MetalGreymon

Get your cybernetic ass back here.

So, I had a MetalGreymon review yesterday that I accidentally deleted, because I was on the phone instead of my proper internet, and also my hands are dumb and stupid. So it was down, the reblogs didn’t keep it, and so here it is again.

SO. PERFECT LEVEL DIGIMON. Originally, the Perfect level was the final form a Digimon could evolve to, hence the name’s very distinct-sounding finality. I mean, what could be better than Perfect? In any case, Ultimates came later, with the rise of the card game and the second set of virtual pets, the Pendulum series, which also overlapped with the release of the first anime, Digimon Adventure. By now, there are more Ultimate level Digimon than there are Perfect, so the name is now long since kind of a misnomer.

Interestingly enough, the Perfect level is what the dub calls “Ultimate”, while they call the dub version of the “Ultimate” level “Mega” instead. This can make talking about them rather confusing. But enough background info, let’s get into MetalGreymon properly.

MetalGreymon - Cyborg Digimon |  Attribute: Vaccine

Attacks: Giga Destroyer, Trident Arm, Metal Slash, Metal Slash Revision [Metal Slash Kai], Tera Destroyer, Over Flame, Metal Arm ; (Dub) Giga Blaster, Mega Claw, Metal Slash, Metal Slash II, Terra Destroyer, Powerful Flame

A Cyborg Digimon which has mechanized more than half of its body. The Metal Greymon of File Island were able to drastically extend their vital functions through remodeling, but their flesh portions could not hold out and were discolored blue. However, perfect Metal Greymon are Cyborg Digimon that succeed in evolving from Greymon, and draw out a stronger power. In order to evolve to Metal Greymon, it must fight its way through and defeat the formidable opponents who come against it. Also, Metal Greymon's offensive power is said to equal that of a single nuclear warhead, and if the likes of a low-level Digimon suffered that blow, it would be annihilated without leaving a trace. Its Special Moves are its "Trident Arm" made from enhanced Chrome Digizoid, and firing its "Giga Destroyer" organic missiles from the hatch on part of its chest.

- Translation by Wikimon.

Odds are if you’re a Digimon fan, this is the version of MetalGreymon you’re most familiar with. However, the MetalGreymon that was first introduced to the franchise in the very first virtual pet was actually very different, possessing the blue color-scheme that didn’t make it into the anime until much later in the form of Agumon’s “dark evolution” in season 2. The orange MetalGreymon didn’t appear until episode 20 of Digimon Adventure, and not until the fifth version of the Pendulum series. The Bandai lore, which is alluded to in the profile up there, is that the earlier, blue-colored MetalGreymon were inferior and couldn’t hold out after mechanization, while the orange ones successfully adapted to it. I imagine the out of universe explanation is that they wanted to have a version of MetalGreymon that looked more heroic (aka not a decaying blue cyborg flesh zombie), and kept visual continuity with Agumon’s other forms. This makes it another example of the “what could have been”-ness of everything involving Agumon and Greymon’s evolution lines in the anime.

MetalGreymon doesn’t discard all the visual elements of his viral counterpart, though. A lot of those earlier Cyborg Digimon had this very partsy, thrown together look, which you can see in MetalGreymon’s torn, ripped up wings, the torn flesh exposing cybernetics on his tail, and the way his new arm, chest and helmet look like they’ve been fused or bolted onto his body. Also, he’s grown hair for some reason, which will lead to a very hilarious line in the second season’s dub when Ken creates Kimeramon.

No, it’s real, I swear to god. Watch it, if only just to hear Derek Steven Prince scream dramatically: “...AND METAL GREYMON’S HAIR!”

But yeah, a lot of those earlier Cyborg and Machine Digimon had very ramshackle and thrown together looks, while later ones would appear more “put-together” as it were. I don’t necessarily mind that, as it’s another example of Agumon’s line introducing elements that will come later, and it also creates a sense of the technology used on these creatures being improved after the more experimental “concept” phase that guys like MetalGreymon here represent.

MetalGreymon can’t discard all of his virus counterpart’s creepiness either. While later games and other material would give him a fire-based attack, the only things we ever see him using in the anime are his extendable “Trident Arm” claw and the horrifying organic missiles he shoots out of his chest.

Seriously, they have mouths. WHY DO THEY HAVE MOUTHS?!

Anyway, MetalGreymon is a Digimon that embodies an interesting place in Digimon history. He’s very much a transitional phase between the very first era of the virtual pets to the next, possessing the same basic design but being adapted for the anime to fit in with an overall shift in marketing. But more than that, he’s just a very sharp, classic design, and he’ll have an influence on a lot of other characters to follow, just like the rest of Agumon’s evolutions do.

Some more directly than others.

In any case, MetalGreymon is actually my favorite of Agumon’s classic evolution line. You can’t go wrong with a Frankenstein’s Monster dinosaur, in the end. MetalGreymon gets...

FIVE STARMONS!

Join us next week when I hopefully actually post this on Wednesday and don’t freaking delete it again.

[whimsicalworldofme]

Some Type of Love

Life has taken on a measure of happy calm on the new Resistance base. Ava has been busy teaching Luke and Rey, training new cooks in the mess hall kitchen, and enjoying life more than she thought she ever might. 

Word Count: 2579 (Really I’m awful at keeping things short)

Content Warnings: None. This is just a lot of cute, light-hearted, fluffy goodness. 

(If anyone is interested, when Poe starts humming, this is what I imagine he hums. This song also fits the overall mood of Poe and Ava.)

“Luke, focus,” Ava chided gently when she caught her son once again watching Rey so intently that he wasn’t paying attention to his own exercises. She was trying to teach them how to direct the Force with as little movement on their part as possible. They’d been trying without result for an hour and a half.

               “I’m focusing,” Luke insisted returning his gaze to the little metal ball sitting on the table in front of him. Rey was across the table from him also focused on the ball. They were supposed to be rolling it back and forth between each other without reaching or gesturing.

               Not on the right thing.

               Ava bit her tongue on that one. She saw how her son looked at Rey, she watched how he trailed after her around the base like the flock of Porgs that had imprinted on Chewbacca. He had begun combat training with her since Rey was in better practice than Ava. Luke consistently went above and beyond to show he had picked up the concepts she demonstrated. To her credit, Rey had accepted her second shadow without complaint. Luke spent more time out and about these days and while it was tough for Ava to let him go, watch him become a young man, she was glad to see him surrounded by people he loved and who loved him. From flying lessons and mechanics with Poe’s squadron, the Jedi training with Rey, shooting practice with Finn, and just general hanging out with his friends Jacen and Jaina, Luke had no shortage of companionship. Her greatest relief came from seeing him fully engaged and aware of how much he was loved. Having watched Ben become more reclusive and withdrawn in his early teen years gave Ava all the signs she needed to know if something was tormenting her son. But he was happy, well-adjusted, and sociable. Sometimes he whined when she asked him to stay in and work on training with her, or when she told him he needed to clean his room, but that was normal teenager angst and annoyance.

               “I don’t think it’s even possible to do this without moving your hands,” Rey’s forehead scrunched up and she folded her arms on the table, resting her chin on top of the backs of her hands.

               “Maybe that’s the lesson,” Luke said, glancing up at his mom again with suspicion. “Something about knowing our limitations. Either that or Mom just wants us to be quiet.”

               Ava raised a brow and crossed her arms over her chest. Luke turned a shade of light pink. Without saying a thing, she redirected her thoughts to the metal ball on the table between her two students. It took a moment, but the little shimmering orb lifted with ease off the wooden surface and floated, bobbing ever so slightly, over to where Ava stood at the end of the table. She held out her hand and it dropped effortlessly into her palm.

               “Whoa,” Luke gaped. Ava felt a twinge of pride that she could still do things that her son found impressive.

               “But it’s so much easier to use your hand,” Rey lifted her hand and carried the ball away from Ava utilizing the Force with as much ease as if she’d just walked over and picked it up. “It’s quicker and takes less concentration. Wouldn’t that be best in most situations?”

               “Maybe,” Ava nodded. “But if you’re in a fight against someone else with a lightsaber or any kind of blade and you throw your hand up like that,” she put her own right arm out and then with her hand flat, palm facing her chest, hit it at the wrist to imitate a blade coming down on it. “You can find yourself very quickly with a bionic hand.”

               Both Rey and Luke winced, drawing back a smidge at the notion. They sat up a little straighter, now understanding the importance of that particular lesson.

               “Is that something Uncle Luke taught everyone because of what happened to him?” Luke asked.

               “I asked him about it because I didn’t want to lose a hand,” Ava grinned. “Gesturing and reaching help to focus your intent with the Force but it’s not necessary. If you practice enough you won’t need the physical action in all situations.”

               “Mom,” Luke got up from the table and stood beside her, putting a hand on her shoulder, a gleam in his eye, “you’re a bit of a badass, you know that?”

               “Yes,” Ava laughed. “But it’s nice to hear you think so.”

               He leaned over and kissed her cheek. He’d gotten even taller somehow in the last few months on the new base, now an inch taller than her. Admittedly she wasn’t a very tall person to begin with, but she felt smaller now that her thirteen-year-old could look her in the eye.

               “We’ll do better next time, right Rey?”

               “I’ll practice in my room,” she promised with a nod as she got up from her seat. She had meetings to get to and Luke was due for some flying lessons. Things were quiet since the First Order was still scrambling after the death of Supreme Leader Snoke. They’d suffered a lot of infighting which gave the Resistance the reprieve they needed to grow their numbers and get into a better position to bring about a final victory.  The interim peace provided enough time and money for Ava to get the kitchen up and going the way she liked. They even had a little garden started on base for fresh vegetables. Ava had been training up a few new cooks since only Tryn had made it to Crait. But he had bailed, fleeing for the outer rim when they were regrouping at the spaceport between Crait and their new base. She didn’t blame him. She missed him, but she was adjusting. Spending more time training the two younger Jedi helped.

               “Same time day after tomorrow,” Ava reminded Rey as she and Luke slipped out the door.

               “Love you, Mom,” Luke waved before the door shut. With a heavy sigh, Ava pushed both the now empty chairs back up to the table and took up the little metal ball. She tossed it in one hand as she wandered to put it over on top of an end table out of the way. She had a little time before she had to be in the kitchens. Since she’d gotten her new cooks trained enough to handle most of the prep, she didn’t have to be there all the time. But she had nothing better to do so she headed out anyway. Poe had left their quarters before the sun rose and she didn’t expect to see him again until well after sundown. He loved his new role training new pilots. His natural instincts and predilection for fathering kicked into overdrive when he got around them. Leia had promoted him back up to Major in the time they’d been there and involved him in more strategy meetings too. He was thriving, and Ava was glad for him even if she did miss his presence around their quarters.  

               The midmorning sun warmed her as she walked across base. People waved and said hello as they passed. She always made a point to talk to people when they came to mess for meal time and now that there were fewer people from the older generation, the ones who remembered how she’d come back to the Resistance pregnant with the ultimate traitor’s child, she had less difficulty socializing. People knew her as Poe’s girlfriend, Luke’s mother, the best cook on base, and the person who would listen to anyone who needed a sympathetic ear. She wasn’t just the first victim of Kylo Ren’s dark rage anymore. It made her smile, thinking about how things had progressed and how they might actually have a chance at lasting peace and happiness.

               “Morning Ava!” Her six new cooks greeted her in unison when she got into the kitchen. She positively beamed, remembering how fortunate she was to have them.

               “Ava,” Kryn, a pastel pink humanoid alien came up to her with a data pad in hand. “I was going through the pantry like you asked and here’s the list of what we need to restock.”

               “That was quick,” Ava had expected it to take much longer than just the morning, but she trusted them. They caught onto things quickly though, which is why she’d entrusted them with the task of weekly inventory. “It took you longer last week.”

               “I’ve since gotten used to how you have things organized,” Kryn replied. “Though I would appreciate you double checking everything to ensure I haven’t made an error.”

               “Of course,” Ava smiled and took the datapad as they held it out for her. “How is prep going for lunch?”

               “We’re on schedule.”

               She watched her little team spread out around the kitchen, stood at counters and sinks, peeling, chopping, making doughs and sauces, grinding herbs and spices, washing dishes. They had come together beautifully in the last few weeks. She could really focus on experimenting with the food and enjoying the creativity of cookery thanks to their help.

               “I’ll check this right away then,” she nodded and began scrolling through the very lengthy lists of items on the datapad that she had to verify. The pantry was spacious and when they had first arrived, Ava wondered if they’d ever have the resources to fill all the shelves. Now she had issues finding space for everything. She counted through jars of spices and herbs, tallied up kilo after kilo of sacks of grains and flours, verified numbers of root vegetables, and shuffled through all sorts of exotic things like jars of a sweet syrup from one planet made from the saliva of a wild pig-like creature. She steered clear of it but there was one group of refugees from that world who wouldn’t take their native thistle tea without a generous glug of the stuff.  

               Her staff was in and out, grabbing ingredients and tools, so she didn’t pay any attention when the door creaked open and shut yet again. An arm slipped around her from behind, a sturdy frame pulling her close, lips pressing soft and warm to her neck. Ava giggled and tipped her head to the side, exposing more of her neck for Poe to lavish kisses on.

               “Hello there,” he murmured in her ear, nuzzling against her.

               “Hello,” she sighed in blissful contentment, leaning into him. “I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight.”

               “I snuck away,” he put his hands on her hips and turned her around before grabbing her right hand in his left and beginning to dance with her. She laughed, letting him lead. He loved to dance and never needed an excuse to do so, but she wondered what in particular had caused this impromptu visit. He was humming now, holding her close, his hand almost indecent on her hip. He pushed her away into a little spin before pulling her back and kissing her when they came together again.

               “You are in a very good mood,” Ava laughed. She moved her free hand from his shoulder and played with the curls at the nape of his neck.

               “There’s no reason not to be in a good mood,” he replied, spinning them both in a circle with expert footwork. “Everything is going right,” he beamed, little joy lines radiating from the corners of his eyes. “My cadets haven’t broken or crashed anything this week, Leia trusts me again, and I get to spend every night with the most beautiful woman in the galaxy.” He spun her again and she felt a flush in her cheeks when she came back into his arms and saw how fondly he looked at her. He licked his bottom lip as he took a moment to really study her face as though wanting to keep a mental picture of exactly how she looked in that moment. He stopped dancing, both his hands taking both of hers, before he went down on one knee in front of her. Ava felt her heart leap into her throat when she realized what he was doing and Poe grinned, choking back happy emotions that threatened to spill over and keep him from his purpose.

               “I promised I would ask properly,” he looked up at her. “I think it’s time.” He ran his thumbs gently along the backs of her hands as he held them. He had a little bit of a tremble to his hold, but Ava figured it was more excitement than nerves. “Ava Maebry, who I have loved since I was eight, who I have watched grow into a remarkable mother, and the most amazing, resilient, kind, and radiantly beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, will you marry me?”

               “I don’t know,” Ava mused, making Poe falter, which she realized was a little cruel of her, but he picked up on her sarcasm quickly with a wry grin. Ava snickered. “Of course, I’ll marry you.”

               “Yeah?” He lit up, his eyebrows going up and a smile bringing out the little creases in his cheeks.

               “Yeah,” she nodded. Poe was on his feet again in a flash, his hands in her hair, her arms around his shoulders, eyes shut, breathing heavy, kissing deeply, passionately, blissfully unaware of anyone else’s existence.

               “Oh, for kriff’s sake,” Leia’s grumbling voice interrupted them, and Poe let out a gasp of pain as he was pulled away from Ava by the ear, separating them a little. “You two are in your thirties. Aren’t you a little old to be making out in supply closets still?”

               Ava covered her mouth with one hand, giggling uncontrollably as she remembered a prior instance when she was eighteen and Leia had walked in on them snogging in a supply closet in the hanger after Poe had nearly been lost on a mission. That seemed like ages ago, but it did bring up very warm, heady memories.

               “Ow, ear, ear,” Poe winced, his head tilted towards the ground as Leia refused to let go of her hold on him. She pulled him so that his face was eye level.

               “If you get too distracted I’ll bump you back down to captain, Major,” she warned.

               “I needed to see Ava,” he argued.

               “You needed to be in a meeting five minutes ago,” Leia finally let go of his ear, though Ava thought she might grab him again and drag him out. “We might be enjoying some peace right now but there’s still work to do.”

               “Sorry, General,” Poe clasped his hands behind his back and looked down at his feet. “It won’t happen again.”

               “See to it that it doesn’t,” Leia nodded curtly. “And yes,” she held a hand up seeing Poe about to speak again and stopping him in the act. “I will officiate your wedding.”

               Ava and Poe looked at one another, blushing furiously. Whether she sensed their news or had simply overheard them from the other side of the pantry door, they couldn’t be certain. Leia flashed her notoriously impish grin, turned, and strode out of the pantry.

               “Get a move on, Major,” she called for Poe without looking back.

               “Right,” Poe gave Ava one final, quick kiss. “See you tonight.”

               He hurried after Leia, straightening his jacket, leaving Ava completely incapable of focusing on inventory for the rest of the afternoon.

Last Chapter          Master List          Next Chapter

[dear-chaton]

1-100 bb

BAbe lol why it’s fine but oh dear lord who’s ready to another long af ask?

Bc I just answered some of these I will link to the first part here^^

1: when you have cereal, do you have more milk than cereal or more cereal than milk? More milk than cereal bc I don’t care if it get soggy

4: how do you take your coffee/tea? Lots of cream, milk and sugar.

6: do you keep plants? Nope

8: what artistic medium do you use to express your feelings? Writing I guess? I didn’t pick up drawing or painting till late last year

9: do you like singing/humming to yourself? Always, singing to myself as I fill this out right now haha

10: do you sleep on your back, side, or stomach? Side but curled up nearly in fetal position bc I’m lanky as hell

12: what’s your favorite planet? Mercury?

14: if you were to live with your best friend in an old flat in a big city, what would it look like? Either really pastel or grungey

15: go google a weird space fact and tell us what it is! In space metal sticks together ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

16: what’s your favorite pasta dish? Lasagna

18: tell us about something dumb/funny you did that has since gone down in history between you and your friends and is always brought up. I like to point out friends spelling mistakes on discord and pin them so that everyone sees bc I’m slightly dyslexic so it’s funny when I do catch mistakes

20: what’s your favorite eye color? I love green and blue eyes

21: talk about your favorite bag, the one that’s been to hell and back with you and that you love to pieces. There’s many of those lol

22: are you a morning person? Nope

24: is there someone out there you would trust with every single one of your secrets? No, I don’t like to have one single person that knows every single little thing about me, I have multiple people that know many things that I trust to them but often those things rarely overlap

25: what’s the weirdest place you’ve ever broken into? No where?

26: what are the shoes you’ve had for forever and wear with every single outfit? It’s a tie between my pug shoes or my cat shoes bc they have memory foam soles since I work on my feet all day I wanna have some comfort on my off days

27: what’s your favorite bubblegum flavor? Just plain regular bubblegum

28: sunrise or sunset? Sunset

30: think of it: have you ever been truly scared?  Oh yeah plenty of times

32: tell us a story of something that happened to you after 3AM when you were with friends. It was after a friends party last year and we just sat in her living room comparing the average guys dick size for some reason 😂

33: what’s your fave pastry? Croissants

34: tell us about the stuffed animal you kept as a kid. what is it called? what does it look like? do you still keep it? It’s a really big bunny rabbit, I don’t think I ever named it to be fair and yeah I keep it on my bed nearly all the time and it’s something I use to comfort me if I’m sad and wipe away the tears if I cry :’)

35: do you like stationary and pretty pens and so on? do you use them often? Yes lol but I more so collect them than use them

36: which band’s sound would fit your mood right now? Either skillet or Pentatonix

38: tell us about your pet peeves! Hate when people cut me off when I’m saying something, I barely talk so when I do I’m a little miffed if I don’t quite get to finish my train of thought, I also hate when people chew loudly in a quiet setting like please no save me

39: what color do you wear the most? A navy blue or a jade green

40: think of a piece of jewelry you own: what’s it’s story? does it have any meaning to you? I guess the most important to me is my purity ring and I’ve had that thing since I was 13 so nearly 8 years I’ve been wearing it and yeah

42: do you have a favorite coffee shop? describe it! It’s kind of quiet and quaint but it’s fabulous to have study groups there and sit there for hours I feel bad for the people that deal with us but it’s so nice

44: when was the last time you remember feeling completely serene and at peace with everything? Being in the back of my boyfriends car, cuddling him

45: do you trust your instincts a lot? Ha nope

46: tell us the worst pun you can think of. What’s the favourite movie for cats to watch? The Sound of Mewsic (you can pry cat puns out of my cold dead hands)

48: what was your biggest fear as a kid? is it the same today? Heights and yes still hate it

49: do you like buying CDs and records? what was the last one you bought? I love cds and the last one I bought I can’t actually remember it’s kind of been a while^^

50: what’s an odd thing you collect? Bears from each state

51: think of a person. what song do you associate with them? Misbehaving by Pentatonix or The Only Exception by Paramore

52: what are your favorite memes of the year so far? That despicable me meme bc I love those movies okay

54: who’s the last person you saw with a true look of sadness on their face? My friend Stirling who just had to put his dog down :(

55: what’s the most dramatic thing you’ve ever done to prove a point? Screeched and lunged for my phone I guess erm

56: what are some things you find endearing in people? Just the small things you don’t think of when you think of a particular person like someone will bring a blanket to our group between breaks and we’ll all huddle underneath it or someone will push two couches together so people can cuddle and/or spoon and be cute like stop being so freaking cute sometimes okay,

57: go listen to bohemian rhapsody. how did it make you feel? did you dramatically reenact the lyrics? It’s interesting I’ll say that

58: who’s the wine mom and who’s the vodka aunt in your group of friends? why? I am bc I’m the oldest of my friends and therefore the only one who’s roughly allowed to drink but no seriously my role on two discord servers is a toss up between Wine Aunt or Wine Goddess like I don’t make this shit up

60: do you like poetry? what are some of your faves? Have never really liked poetry so uh

62: do you drink juice in the morning? which kind? Orange juice

63: are you fussy about your books and music? do you keep them meticulously organized or kinda leave them be? On my bookshelf there’s all my favorites out on display but the rest are kind just shoved into boxes

64: what color is the sky where you are right now? It’s dark out bc it’s nearly midnight 

65: is there anyone you haven’t seen in a long time who you’d love to hang out with? My best friend even though I haven’t been the greatest friend and not talked with her in a while >.

66: what would your ideal flower crown look like? Soft with white and light blue flowers I guess?

68: what’s winter like where you live? Hot and humid most of the year with a week or two of what the fuck Florida

69: what are your favorite board games? Checkers

70: have you ever used a ouija board? Nope

72: are you a person who needs to note everything down or else you’ll forget it? Most definitely

74: describe a good friend of yours without using their name or gendered pronouns. Always ready to fight

75: tell us about your pets! I had a puppy that I had to give away over the summer, she wasn’t really a puppy she was a little on the older side but I really loved her and miss her a lot

76: is there anything you should be doing right now but aren’t? Studying but my classes are pretty easy

77: pink or yellow lemonade? Neither

78: are you in the minion hateclub or fanclub? Ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I don’t mind them but since my nephew likes them I tolerate them

80: what color are your bedroom walls? did you choose that color? if so, why? One wall is just a hot pink bc that was the color of my sheets at some point but I’m gonna paint it to a pastel mint hopefully soon

81: describe one of your friend’s eyes using the most abstract imagery you can think of. Like an iceberg, so cold it pierced my soul (idk either man)

82: are/were you good in school? Pffffffft that’s hilarious

84: are you planning on getting tattoos? which ones? I wanna get one tattoo is it’s simply ❝&❞ and on my left inner wrist

85: do you read comics? what are your faves? No not really, haha

86: do you like concept albums? which ones? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ idk

87: what are some movies you think everyone should watch at least once in their lives? Homeward Bound bc that is my shit okay

88: are there any artistic movements you particularly enjoy? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

90: talk about your one of you favorite cities. I don’t like cities so um yeah

91: where do you plan on traveling this year? Er maybe to the city to go to a con but otherwise not planning to travel much

92: are you a person who drowns their pasta in cheese or a person who barely sprinkles a pinch? Drowns it with cheese, after taking a lactaid pill of course

93: what’s the hairstyle you wear the most? It’s almost always with a headband of sorts

94: who was the last person you know to have a birthday? My friend Mags

95: what are your plans for this weekend? Going on a date and going boating with my family

96: do you install your computer updates really quickly or do you procrastinate on them a lot? I always procrastinate them lol my computer must hate me

98: when’s the last time you went hiking? did you enjoy it? It was 6? Years ago and I didn’t have the right shoes and slipped on some mud and fell

99: list some songs that resonate to your soul whenever you hear them. I have a YouTube playlist for that shit lol there’s like 100 songs i listen to on repeat

100: if you were presented with two buttons, one that allows you to go 5 years into the past, the other 5 years into the future, which one would you press? why? Future bc hell if I’m about to relive my past again no thanks fam I’m good

Really Fucking Cute Questions

[allbeendonebefore]

Caroline and Edith: A Brief Intro

I figured I don’t talk enough about the gals so I will do so here because i can’t concentrate and wanted to write about them for like a year

about: the concept of nyo characters and 2p characters is a thing in canon hetalia and the fandoms- i’m not terribly fond of 2p as its been characterized by the fandom (as sort of two dimensional ‘bad’ versions) and have only treated it jokingly thus far, but i have for whatever reason been curious about gender bending/sliding/swapping. I personally like personifications to /mean/ something and not simply give them a different gender, so I personally have thought of nyo and on occasion 2p personifications as different aspects of one city. In the case of ‘fem ed’ and ‘fem cal’, they represent former municipalities that are absorbed into existing ones. Some people do this with their nyo!characters, some people don’t, it’s just a personal preference of mine that I think gives an extra dimension and twist to just popping existing characters into different clothes. Basically, they look similar after having lived together so long (the joke being that to people outside the city they are basically the same thing) and they have a sort of adopted sibling relationship though they are not biologically related. 

and now the gals

fyi i know more off the top of my head about edith because i’m a u of a alumna and grew up on the south side literally on campus so therefore a little biased :^) Do i have interest in creating nyo characters for other alberta ocs? idk - i have a slight interest but idk if i have the time or energy to invest in characters who aren’t as familiar or immediately important. It’s more a development that comes after a lot of research and local knowledge. But anyway, without further ado, here are some facts.

Edith / Fem!Edmonton / Old Strathcona / South Edmonton

History

- once an independent and successful city (Strathcona), joined Edmonton in 1912 for tax benefits. 

- Now exists as Old Strathcona - most well known for being the home of the University and Whyte Ave as well as Rachel Notley’s stronghold - typically the only riding in the province to consistently vote NDP in both provincial and federal elections. Hipster central (though is slowly losing that status to Ed and 124th street on the North side). 

- was given the University of Alberta to compromise between Ed/Cal, but Ed ended up getting it anyway.

- represents the area on the south side of the North Saskatchewan. As a result she has more Blackfoot heritage where Ed has more Cree heritage. Also home to a lot of Metis people who fled Red River. Really sad because Laurent Garneau’s tree just got brought down ToT

- got the railroad that ed was supposed to get because the CPR was too lazy to build a bridge. only some vague bitter feelings between her and ed over this but they’ve gotten over it - ed is making sure to hold on to the old railway tracks Just In Case.

- Fought really hard in the 1970s to keep her heritage buildings and status during a time when the city was ready to tear it all down. Still really rankled by new developments.

Looks/Personality/Interests

- round hips and buff legs, narrow torso, not-quite-flat chest. Basically shaped like a bowling pin if a bowling pin was pointy, or alternatively, shaped like the Strathcona Public Building 

- always has her hair up when not at home, most usually in a bun. Cats eye glasses which she actually does use to see. 

- Younger than Ed but grew up faster than him. Is still taller than him today (but only slightly). Generally more blunt, more fashionable, more open and outspoken politically, and less of a worry wart. Technically closer to Cal in age.

- cat person, tea drinker, and so many tattoos. probably piercings. i haven’t figured it out. seems to manage to eat cake at block 1912 and all the trendy instagrammable foods and drinks every day and yet has no obvious source of income. Seems to disappear into that mysterious door just off Whyte labeled “SECRET LOCATION, DO NOT ENTER” (aka a local brewery’s secret hq a close walk from the old railway station which has since been converted into a beer market). Her personal style is more rockabilly than explicitly hipster- there are a lot of retro dress shops in old Strath + tattoos + leather because Alberta

- volunteers at fringe every year and probably on a first name basis with nathan fillion. fringe/acting is her life. Has an expansive and expressive theatre ability on stage, but off it she’s just kind of ‘meh’ and indifferent and private.

- is at the farmer’s market every saturday, probably selling stuff ed has grown

- lives in an old Edwardian heritage home somewhere in Old Strath, has a fluffy white cat, bikes or takes transit everywhere.  

- likes to weld weird abstract metal... things?

- Likely the one who caused the political Orange Crush for Ed, but could care less about the Orange Crush of the sporting world. Literally could not care less about hockey because of the bad riots they cause on Whyte that keep her up at night - ‘literally no amount of alcohol is going to fix this for either of us, go home’. Her sporting passion is actually basketball and roller derby, but nobody knows that because she doesn’t tell anyone. Doesn’t ride horses, (if she does, it’s English style riding), but really loved betting on them back in the day. Has a lot of FC Edmonton merch and watches soccer games, but gave up on lacrosse when the Rush moved to Saskatchewan and broke her heart. In general, she loathes organized sport and Especially the NHL, but will watch U of A Pandas/Golden Bears games because they are cheap and accessible. 

- sex positive, just not interested in discussing her own sex life or those of people she knows. I tend to think of her as aroace-spectrum (i.e. sex neutral or favourable in certain contexts, not interested in long term romance. No gender preference. Doesn’t like dating people she knows/friends.) She recently started hosting Pride herself and it has been a great success. Only enters adult stores if they are cute and queer friendly.

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

Caroline / Fem!Calgary / Bowness / Northwest Calgary

History

- Used to be part of Cochrane Ranch in the golden age of cattle ranching. Grew up with kind of a southern belle/debutante lifestyle that hasn’t totally left her. 

- Younger than Cal, grew up in the golden age of ranching and in the middle of massive immigration. 

- that is, both she and calvin were raised in ranch houses learning to play croquet and polo and dressing well and having tea and so on and so forth - Caro in some ways moreso than Calvin who had previously grown up in the old NWMP fort as well and knew differently- slightly more about Calgary-the-wild/mild-west-frontier

- The ranch was later divided up into recreational parks and ice skating rinks and golf courses and houses and things - though it wasn’t part of the city, people from Calgary would come up to visit all the time by streetcar as a little mini ‘escape’. Met a lot of famous people during this period, including Fred McCall the ace wartime pilot who would fly her and Cal out to Banff for day trips 

- Joined Calgary in 1964 because the nearby town of Montgomery had already done so, so why not. 

- still has really strong class divides due to the history of the area

Looks / Personality / Interests

- Though she’s sort of a prairie princess in some ways, Caro really embraces the “tough flannel wearing” sort of image of western ladies who would ride all day to get to a dance in another town. She’s still very insistent on presenting herself as feminine and well to do, but she can’t shake the country image no matter how hard she may try to play big city socialite.

- Tall like Calvin, only slightly shorter than him. Freckles, more obvious and more numerous than Calvin’s. Pretty much an hourglassy figure and a little bit busty (c cup because the city’s dumb obsession with cs get it). When I draw her i have that terrible quote from Destroy All Humans stuck in my head i.e. “would you get a load of this brassiere? i could torpedo a uboat with these things!” because I guess I also think of her as a post-war suburban housewife secretly.

- Usually has her hair in a loose side braid but will attempt fancier up-dos for social events. It’s wavy and relatively long, past her shoulders. Pierced ears, likes long dangly earrings and Expensive jewelry. I tend to look at the Library when I draw her - I like the round wheely shapes from its history as an ATV shop and use those as jewelry, so its like Long and Round shapes for her body but she also has a pokey chin/nose/fingers etc like Calvin.

- she tries to keep her fashion sense in that sort of light and airy feminine zone but she still gets all her dresses and blouses from Lammles. Will Absolutely rock the full western jeans and flannel during stampede or on vacation in the mountains, but in the city she tries to keep it more urban and/or professional.

- bigger fan of sports than Edith, Extremely into hockey and is a Serious supporter of the Calgary Inferno. Only wears jerseys on game day, but has one in each colour for each team.

- her political views are slowly ~seeming~ to shift- being a typically right wing conservative stronghold was upset in the 2015 election and she now lives in an NDP riding which is Very Interesting. It was a split between NDP/Cons/WR 5:5:3 so you could argue the right-wing vote outnumbered the left wing 8:5, but it’s still Very Interesting, thanks First Past the Post. Generally like Calvin she is a True Blue Conservative, though she might lean more towards WR and he leans more Liberal (shocker, I know). But I won’t be able to figure out whether she’d be a UCP voter yet so we will have to Wait and See who she hates more xDD  

- that said, like many Albertans and particularly those in urban areas, Caro is fiscally conservative and socially liberal. She does take a longer time to understand issues that don’t obviously affect her and for that reason she is the sort of person to deny the feminist label even though she really aligns with it, but she’s learning. Generally really traditional and embraces femininity and the division of labour between genders, etc. WASPy. 

- generally very no-nonsense and more biting verbally than Calvin, but also very much a romantic. She can be the PTA wine mom of your worst nightmares or the harlequin heroine of your dreams, just try not to get on her bad side. She likes numbers and finances because they are straight forward and say what they mean.

- I’m still divided on where she lives. Calvin is the one with the penthouse downtown, Caroline is the one in the suburbs but she probably still owns ranchland that she likes to supervise even if she doesn’t actually live there. All her horses are named after horses from Heartland or something, probably. Dog person. Hangs out in Edworthy Park to meet dogs, probably.

- literally both the girl in pumps and a pencil skirt who drives a car2go to get groceries and also the girl in rhinestone studded boots who drives a big black truck with a huge pink flowery cursive ‘oil wife’ decal on the back window, or the pink flowery cursive ‘dirty money’ across the top.

- literally to understand caroline-as-socialite pls just watch gavin crawford’s wild west - the oil wife [part one] [part two] i swear to god i cry laughing every time at ‘how about a western theme- how about not’. Everything gets me but especially the passive aggressive ordering-dessert-for-everyone and staring them down until she gets her way. You know what, just watch all of the shorts, it’s a brilliant series.

[dubsdeedubs]

A Diverging in the Wood [2/3]

hi sorry

Summary: Events shift.  History rearranges.  Another horror beyond human comprehension joins the fray during Weirdmageddon. 

Good thing they're on the side of humanity.

[A/N:  I Honestly don’t know how to explain the context to this and it’s been literally half a year since I’ve posted anything for it, but.  Canon Divergence AU for this fic which is just sleeping, I promise.  Features eldritch abomination Stan - it makes sense in context. Kind of.]

[AO3]

To Stanford's complete lack of surprise, hell was freezing cold.

Though a revolutionary discovery to be sure, he had doubts it would stand up to any reputable academic committee. The main issue was, his current location was more accurately described as "Ford Pines' Personal Pyramidal Hell" than the classic Judeo-Christian equivalent. Specifically, traits of demons present were more "horns and cloven feet" than "sixty-degree angles."

Unfortunately, that fact narrowed down the field of concerned individuals significantly. To two, actually - him and his fellow captive, the rather perturbed looking child (?) dancing frantically in a cage hanging from the ceiling. 

Not Ford's oddest roommate experience, but it did make top five.

It was just one of those days. Weeks? Months? Extra-temporal periods of existence?

The worst part about the death of linear time, Ford thought to himself sadly, was the language involved.

He hung there in his chains for a moment that could have been a minute or a year, or anything in between. Not that it would have mattered. There was the occasional squeaking and click-clack of tap-dancing from above, but nothing here changed or grew or learned. This was his personal hell, after all.

Then on a day that could have been any other, a massive black hand reached through the opening to the chamber.

A moment afterwards, the rest of Bill Cipher followed through, folding out like a model ship in a bottle. His single large eye stared Ford down with evident glee.

"Heya, Fordsy!" He chirped. "How's it hanging?"

Bill snapped his finger, and a deafening rimshot echoed throughout the room. Stanford stared back at him blankly, his tongue limp and leaden in his mouth.

The demon let out an exaggerated sigh. "Tough audience, huh? Man, I miss the good ol' days. Just you, me, a meddling research assistant to drive insane, and a world-ending interdimensional portal to build.

You would've laughed at my jokes then," he said sulkily. "Heck, you would've done anything I told ya to do. Anything for your blessed muse - right, Sixer?"

Ford made no reply. There was a dull metallic taste in his mouth, his mind felt dazed and woolen, and there was something inexplicably funny about - well, everything. Who had come up with the interior design scheme for the Fearamid, anyways? Was being a fan of neon rainbow highlights another black mark on the long list of Bill Cipher's sins?

Somewhere on the fringes of Ford's awareness, Bill Cipher narrowed his eye in realization. He poked Ford with one smooth, black finger. The old man shifted slackly in his chains. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me I messed up on rewiring a few synapses or 7,283! How am I supposed to torture answers out of you if ya get to duck out of the consequences?" His glare turned thoughtful. "...Don't suppose you have anything to share about the barrier around this hick town now?"

Ford might not have been in his right mind, not anything close to it, but he knew there was only one way he could respond to that.

"No," he muttered hoarsely. His throat felt sore and his voice came out in a rasp, like he had been using it a lot recently. "Not to you."

"Oh, what a pity!" Bill said, his cheerful tone making it clear that to him, it was anything but. He snapped his fingers with obvious relish, the sound echoing sharply across the otherwise empty chamber.

Sensation rushed into his numb limbs, bringing with it the burning chafe of chains and a bone-deep exhaustion that washed over him with all the force of an ocean wave. He could hear a dim ringing sound in his ears now, and Ford swallowed down a sudden burst of nausea. His entire body felt like one unholy amalgation of bruise and electrical burn.

The briefest of moments later, so came logical thought. Bill was here, in front of him, for the first time in... a while. Their last meeting had ended especially - brutally, which explained Ford's previous - condition.

The most logical reason for the demon's long absence was that, at that point, Bill must have realized that torture by itself was pointless.

Which meant.

Bill would not have returned if he did not have new information, new bargaining pieces, new -

The list of reasons with which Ford could be convinced to bargain at all was short. Specifically, it was limited to three people. The thought of any of them in the clutches of the malicious, capricious chaos god before him chilled him to the core.

There was nothing funny about his situation now, not anymore.

"Why are you here, Cipher?" Ford asked with forced calm, every bit of restraint he could muster used to keep the dueling emotions of fear and fury from his face. "What do you have planned? You know that I -"

Bill let out a shriek of laughter. "You wound me, Sixer! Why can't I just have a nice conversation with an old friend?" The creature leaned closer, eye shining. "Geez, does everything have to have an ulterior motive with you?"

"There is no conversation I want to have with you, Cipher," Ford said shakily, voice barely a whisper. "Do not mock either of our intelligences by pretending I was anything close to a friend to you."

"Eh, friend, unwitting pawn…" Bill waved a large, spidery hand with calculated nonchalance. "Po-tay-toh, po-tah-toh. Don't be so sensitive, pal!"

"You have held me captive, kept me in chains, have tortured me to the brink of death -"

"Brink of? ...Ooh." The triangle winced exaggeratedly. "Oh right. I never told you!

"...W-what?" Ford asked hesitantly, before logic chased him down, pushed him to the ground, and poured a cold bucket of regret over his head and down his shirt. "No, actually, I don't ="

"Yea-ah, about that last part - tell ya what, Fordsy." Bill batted his eyelashes. "I've decided to turn over a, hah, new leaf. Call it making up for having you wait for so long!"

"I said I don't -"

"It's honesty hour here in the Fearamid, folks!" The triangle flung his hands up and out, practically beaming despite a lack of a mouth or real facial features. Glowing confetti burst from the air and scattered all over the landscape.

Then just as suddenly, he was close - too close, his solid black pupil inches away from Ford's flinching face.

"Oh, don't pretend like you're not INTERESTED, Sixer! You've always been a real smartypants, but I KNOW you've got mysteries ya can't figure out. So, HOW ABOUT IT? A little secret to start with, just to give omnipotence a test run?"

There was no doubt for Stanford that - whatever Bill was building up to - was not something he wanted to know. His tongue had already gone instinctively to the roof of his mouth, ready to form the harsh consonant sound of the 'no' that he wanted to, had to say.

But there was a dangerous glint in the demon's single eye, one that made it clear that his question was no question at all.

He sighed. There was a time and a place for everything, and 'enraging a chaos god' was no exception. He still had no idea where or how Dipper and Mabel were. (Or Stanley.) His pride was not worth the safety of his family.

"Fine," Ford said blandly, determinedly keeping all emotion from his face. He refused to give Bill the pleasure of watching him squirm. "A little... secret."

Even without a mouth, Bill gave off the distinct impression of a smirk.

"Weeeell," he drawled, spinning his cane casually. With no apparent process of transformation, he was suddenly dozens of times smaller than before, around the size he maintained in Ford's memories of past dreams. "So. I, uh, miiiiight have taken it a bit too far a time or two with these things."

Electricity sparked around Bill's raised hand in demonstration. Ford flinched back instinctively.

"Y'know. Used a little too much juice, sizzled an organ that shouldn't have been sizzled. Beginner's mistake."

Bill shrugged nonchalantly and stretched out his thin arms in placation. "Hey, but I fixed ya back up, didn't I? Even made a few tweaks, free of charge!"

Ford stared at him silently, expression slack with slow dawning horror.

"What's with the long face? Focus on the big picture here for once," the demon said crossly. "You're alive! C'mon, no thanks for your favorite muse?"

No, this had to be another trick. Gods knew how many of those Bill Cipher had up his metaphorical sleeves. He was trying to - unnerve him, shake him, get him into that precarious mental place where he might actually be thrown off enough to make the mistake Bill had been waiting for all this time.

And the worst part was, it was working.

Already, his thoughts were going places where they shouldn't. Was resurrection even something Bill was capable of? How did that interfere with existing processes for death and life, if they even existed?

And yet... it would make a great deal of sense. Not only did Bill have little to no concept of human limits in regards to survival, Ford highly doubted he cared - not if he had a way of circumventing his mistakes. And, given that most of his own memory consisted of pain and occasional flashes of blue light, there were more than enough gaps in it to draw... damning conclusions.

But… if Bill was telling the truth, what did that mean for him?

Was he just a copy of a copy, ad nauseam, of an original, deceased Stanford Pines? Or was he just a reanimation, not much different from a simple -

Bill was looking at him now through a single half-lidded eye, both hands resting on the handle of his cane, his stare uncomfortably knowing. "Well, Sixer? You, of all people, should know how much I hate it when people make me wait."

As if struck, Ford straightened his back suddenly - and heard, disproportionately loud to his ringing ears, the familiar crackle of aged paper.

Like breaking through a trance, he held one trembling hand to pat the general location of his heart, and there it was - that slightest resistance pressing reassuringly against his chest. It was still there. Despite the decades, despite whatever had happened to him in his current captivity, it was there. He blinked rapidly, trying to dissipate the burning at his eyes.

And just like that, his previous concerns were wiped from his mind.

Ford let out a breath. Of course. He had been being ridiculous.

Bill would not have known about the tattered photograph he kept hidden under his clothing, strapped to his chest - nor would he have understood the significance of it.

Therefore, if Ford really had been remade in a way that departed from who he was before, into something Bill wanted him to be... then the picture would not have the same effect on him. It certainly wouldn't have this effect on him.

"I'm disappointed, Cipher." Ford's voice sounded distant to his own ears. "That bit of information is a waste of omnipotence. But then again, perhaps I shouldn't be so surprised - you also made the decision to tear down the walls between dimensions, effectively end an entire universe, and for what? To have a party?"

Bill bristled, visibly affected by his gibe. "I'll have ya know, Sixer, we've got more time punch here than any other point in existence. This ain't just a party, bucko! It's the party!"

"You're right," Ford said hoarsely. "I am an idiot, Bill."

His captor turned slowly, single eye open in pleasant surprise and baited anticipation -

"But not because I trusted you." He wet his dry mouth. "I'm an idiot because I thought you were ever worth worshipping."

The triangle demon was quiet for a long, long moment.

Regardless of exactly how long it went in linear terms, it was definitely enough time for Ford to review his words and mentally curse himself for mouthing off. There was nothing Bill could do to him that he hadn't done previously. But with his family's survival in the balance, it was an extremely stupid move of him to push an already erratic, capricious creature into -

"Well," said Bill slowly, "well, WELL."

There was a note of deep anticipation in his voice, obvious even as the volume of it climbed to deafening levels. "GOOD OL' SIXER, HUH? I knew there was a reason I liked you more than the other fleshbags. Always jumping the GUN. And here I thought you'd APPRECIATE the build-up! BUT HEY, I SURE DON'T WANNA KEEP YA WAITING!"

He snapped his fingers and the chains holding Ford up disappeared suddenly from around his limbs. There was a heart-stopping second or two of freefall as the world around him blurred and reformed -

- then he landed, inexplicably enough, on what looked to be an oversized therapy chair that - he noticed blearily - matched the neon color scheme of the Fearamid.

Ford lunged forwards on an instinctive attempt at escape before bands of eerily glowing blue substance shot out from the handles and wrapped themselves around his wrists, holding him tightly in place.

"LEMME TAKE A WILD GUESS, SIXER! All ya wanna know about now is how that squishy little family of yours is doing." Bill sat on a stool next to the chair, squinting at a little notepad and pencil he held in his hands. After a moment of deliberation, he burnt them both in blue flame. "BOOORING! WHATEVER HAPPENED TO THE GUY I USED TO KNOW, HUH?"

"You did."

Bill ignored him. "I can't even interest you in the solution to the Hodge Conjecture? What about the Computational Theory of Mind? You're KILLING me here, FORDSY!"

"Either tell me what happened to my family, or -"

"Or?" The triangle asked in anticipation, leaning forward. "OR? Tell me, Fordsy, what exactly is it that you wanna do to me? Got another dimensional gun hidden up your sleeves? A muicide detonator strapped to your left ankle?"

"Or bring back the chains," Ford spat. "I'm tired of your games, Cipher. I know what you want from me, and no amount of sidestepping will make me forget it."

Bill leaned back again. If Ford didn't know better, he would have said he looked disappointed. "Oh, don't give yourself a heart attack, Sixer - that doesn't come for a few more decades! 'Sides, honesty hour's still on, and what with me killing linear time, you've still got…" He checked a watch-less wrist. "...eternity!"

Ford licked his stinging lips. There was no question that he had to play along. Especially with Bill dangling his family's fates in front of him like this. There was no doubt that there was something unsaid - something that the triangle was positively raring to share.

He thought through his words for a long time.

"Are they hurt?" Ford asked at last, still wary, unwilling to even consider the other alternative. Dipper had the Journals with him, though in hindsight, giving those books to him was a decision Ford deeply regretted - it was the equivalent of a bright red target on his back. And Mabel had been outside when Weirdmageddon had began, lost somewhere in the woods (and there was another burst of guilt there, because he shouldn't have done… that. Why did he possibly think it would have ended well? This was the second time he had made the exact same mistake.) "Are they… safe?"

"Oh," Bill said dismissively, "Pine Tree and Shooting Star are just fine. From a certain point of view! But they're alive and breathing and doing everything you humans do… just a whole lot less of it."

Ford jerked forward, a movement aborted by the thick bands of cosmic material holding him down. The triangle waved a placating hand. "I'm kidding, Sixer! Geez, talk about not bein' able to take a joke! They're both holed up in that Shack of theirs, and I have to say… real good job on the unicorn hair barrier. Very…" His voice darkened. "Clever. But you always were, weren't you, Fordsy?"

Realization dawned. "...You can't see inside the Shack at all, can you?"

"Never tried!" Bill exclaimed, and Ford knew he wasn't imagining the fact that the dream demon had responded a little too quickly. "Bunch of dinged up humans, huddled up and marinating in their own fluids like time sardines in a can… can I say booo-ring?"

Despite his best efforts, Ford sagged in relief. For all his age and near-omnipotent knowledge, Bill was at his core a childish being. His family was safe, hidden away in the Shack. Maybe powerless, unable to fight back at all against the extradimensional creatures rampaging through the town… but alive and uninjured - because if they were otherwise, Bill would certainly have mentioned it.

"Hey, what's with the hurry?" Ford blinked in slow confusion. "Aren't ya forgetting someone, Sixer?"

Bill shrugged. "Actually, can't say I'm surprised! I mean, you sure have had a lot of experience forgetting about him in the past -"

Ah. Ford frowned. "My brother is safe in the Shack," he said coldly. "Try another one, Cipher."

No, there had been no forgetting involved. Just the simple fact that the kids had been in direct danger and therefore, had been at the foreground of Ford's panic. Stanley, on the other hand, had been inside the Shack the last Ford remembered, and at any rate, could not have gotten far enough from shelter in the few minutes before the start of Weirdmageddon to be in any real danger.

And... while his brother made indubitably unwise decisions, he doubted that even Stan would casually venture out into the post-apocalyptic wasteland.

(...without reason. Which meant, unless the kids had not made it to the Shack immediately and Stanley had noticed their disappearance. Or unless... no, it was stupid - but then, this was Stanley - his brother had gone outside to look for him -)

"Sounding a bit too sure there," Bill remarked, leaning back and swinging his black cane in one fluid motion. "But you've been doing some assuming over there, haven't ya? And... we both know what that does - don't we, Fordsy?"

He wants me to ask him, Ford thought distantly. He wants me to ask him about Stanley.

There was an obvious answer to the question of 'why' - his brother had been captured, or injured, or. But he also understood - as much as anyone could, really - the spiteful polygon of overgrown immaturity before him, enough to know that there was something more here. Bill wanted to enjoy this game, and he was drawing it this long to make up for -

"Well?"

Ford, on the other hand, was sick of playing games. "Cut to the chase, Cipher. What did you do to my brother?" He demanded, rising as much as he count against the binds holding him down to the cartoonishly oversized therapy chair.

"What an accu-sation! I haven't done anything, Sixer." Ford flinched, despite himself. "...For once. Nah, Fordsy, the question you should be asking is, what has your brother done to himself?"

"I don't understand," he said carefully.

"Oh come on - you're smarter than this!" Bill bemoaned, sounding almost disappointed. "You spent ten years in this dump of a supernatural hot spot, you know what kind of things are lurking about in its corners. You knew what you were getting into - oh, don't give me that look, I saw your cute little handwritten guide on fae technical wording." Ford flushed red. "Stan-o, however…"

His tone turned contemplative. "All that knucklehead had was one of your little cryptid diaries and good ol' fashioned desperation. And we both know how dangerous that is in Gravity Falls - don't we, Fordsy? How many things out here would be all too willing to take advantage?"

"My brother isn't an idiot," Ford said flatly. "He wouldn't have fallen for the tricks of - creatures like you. He's better than that."

"Oh, I wouldn't be too sure - you know what they say about birds and feathers! Tell me, Fordsy - how has your brother been, since you've made it back? Does it feel like coming back home? Or… "

Bill prodded at Ford's chin with his cane, a thoughtful look in his single eye. "Is he different? Not how you remembered him? A - stranger?"

"It's been thirty years," he said dully, leaning his face back and away as much as he could. "People change. He changed. I changed."

"Oh, is that all it is?" Bill exclaimed in mock-surprise. "Or is that just what you're tellin' yourself?"

Ford was quiet.

"C'mon, Six Fingers. I know all about your habit of lying to yourself, but this is ri-di-culous. Before this summer, you haven't talked to - heck, seen - your brother for forty years. And that hour of beating the crud outta each other doesn't count! What's the difference to you between Stanley Pines and some guy off the street, huh?"

Ford refused to meet his eye. "You wouldn't understand," he muttered raspily. The demon went still. "You've never had a fami -"

"I don't NEED to understand!" Bill said loudly - shrieked, really, his one eye wide, as if he was shocked at his own vehemence.

"...No, y'know what, Stanford? I think you're the one who doesn't understand. In fact, I think there are plenty of things you don't understand. ...Good thing I'm here to get you up to speed."

The triangle's physical size hadn't changed - at least, not by Ford's own reckoning - but now, he loomed, his single unblinking pupil narrowed into a nearly imperceptible slit.

"Don'tcha know? Your real brother hasn't been around for a very, very long time, Fordsy."

"...What?" It sounded lame and ridiculous the moment it left his mouth, but there were no words that could be used for the current stunned confusion of Ford's mind. "I don't -"

Bill sighed once, for obvious effect. "Lemme tell ya about an old - pal of mine. Seems a bit overdue for an introduction, considering what they've been up to for the past -"

Then, just then, there was a deafening crunch.

The entire Fearamid shook in a massive jolt of movement. Several chunks of glowing extraterrestial building material cracked off and fell haphazardly from the ceiling, and Bill went abruptly quiet as he dodged to the side to avoid a hit to the eye.

Distantly, Ford heard the sound of demonic screeching and - human shouting?

Bill blinked once, slowly and disbelieving. Then, he swelled, growing twice - thrice - a dozen times his original size, bright crimson red and glowing like a supernova, his eye a glaring gold on black.

"WHAT IS IT N̮͍̠̠͓̻̝͖̬̗̅̄̂̽̀̂̓͊̍͠O̴̪̬̪̬͍͈̐̂̎̌̍̒̿͜W̶̭̹̝̟̱̑͆̉͑̿̇͋̕ͅ?" he demanded to no one in particular, bass voice loud enough to vibrate the leather under Ford's fingers.

The pseudo-therapy chair dissolved like mist, but a massive and inhuman black hand grabbed Stanford from mid-air before he could even mentally register the lack of physical reinforcement underneath his body.

He flinched. Around the two of them, the world distorted and reshaped itself into a room he had long mentally associated with the crackling of pain through his limbs and the odor of burnt cloth (and hair, and flesh, and -)

The walls had holes in them now, brutish and irregular, and through them Ford could just barely catch the occasional blur of fast-moving color beyond them. Color, and something he simply could not make out for the life of him.

Bill hummed in thought, vibrating like a naked wire. "...Huh. Would ya look at that?"

"P-please." Ford hadn't realized it was him who had spoken before his mouth was already open and he was babbling again, words rolling down his tongue and spilling out despite himself because who else in this damn town would storm the stronghold of a chaos god? Who else but - "Bill, please, don't do anything to them -"

"Looks like Truth or Dare's gonna have to wait a few," the demon said, tone light as a feather. Dimly, Ford realized he could see himself in Bill's huge dilated pupil. His reflection's mouth was open in a silent scream. "I've got a rebellion to crush into bonemeal! And who knows… Maybe I can find myself a Shooting Star or a Pine Tree, and then you can finally start making some Independent Decisions - starting with, choosing which one of 'em gets to take your place!"

His fists landed uselessly on the smooth black surface of Bill's cartoonishly simple hand as Ford struggled in his grasp, screaming and shouting and shaking, barely registering the telltale movement of air across his face that meant Bill was moving elsewhere.

Then, somewhere on the fringes of his awareness, he registered the clink of metal - then, the loosening of his bonds as Bill deposited (dumped, really) him onto a hard surface.

Within seconds, Ford had flipped onto his feet. He immediately lunged at the bars that held him back, his six-fingered hands futilely clawing at the huge unblinking eye staring at him in amusement, just a few inches away from his fingertips.

"Calm down, Fordsy," Bill admonished with a sigh, voice loud over a stream of obscenities that had never before been uttered on the surface of this particular version of Earth. "That heart attack creeping on isn't supposed to happen till you're 92, remember? So why don'tcha sit back, make a new friend, and I'll bring your family right back to ya - just like you wanted!"

"If you hurt them," he said hoarsely, "if you touch a single hair on their heads - I don't care what I have to do, what I need to bargain with -"

Bill shrieked with ear-splitting laughter. "Birds and feathers, Stanford!" He exclaimed cryptically, and - unfolded, for lack of a better word, his single eye bursting into flame and a dozen legs emerging from his now pyramidal frame. By the time Ford could react, Bill had already clambered through and out of one of the larger cracks like some oversized demonic arachnid.

He stared forward for a moment, one hand still loosely holding the metal bars of the hanging cage, adrenaline draining as quickly as it had came and leaving behind aches and strains in its wake. Ford felt sick, nauseous, a burning sensation somewhere in his throat that felt nothing like 500 volts of electricity yet hurt just as much.

There was nothing he could do but wait, wait for the world to end because he would not watch those children suffer for his mistakes.

It was… quiet now, without Bill's deafening voice and his own screaming in his ears. Just him and his thoughts, the latter of which were so deafening that he would not be surprised if they had somehow crossed into physical reality.

...As well as, he realized slowly and dimly and with more than a little confusion, the sound of expert tapdancing.

The sound of expert tapdancing, coming from… approximately two feet behind him?

Ford turned around. After a brief moment of quiet confusion, he looked down.

The dancing figure - short, squat, and inexplicably clad in a sailor suit - let out a terrified squeal.