#she might like rhombus shaped things

[nadilseb]

Georgia doodle… I think I like the stripes

[crusherthedoctor]

A guide on how to draw Trudy "officially".

Over the years, Trudy has received the occasional fanart, and I can never be grateful enough for every last one of them. <3 However, possibly due to not being an artist myself (unless you count purposefully terrible MSPaint doodles), I sometimes get asked what her intended reference is supposed to be. As in, how is she officially meant to translate in the Yuji Uekawa style alongside the other Sonic cast members.

In the past, I've been hesitant to clarify because truth be told, I don't care too deeply about every detail being completely accurate in fanart: I'm always perfectly satisfied and delighted to see how artists handle her regardless, no matter their spin on it. You wanna make her even taller? Go right ahead. :D You wanna make her hair reach further down? Knock yourself out. :D Boots going all the way up to her thighs? Hehe long leg horsie. :D But since it's something I've been asked more than once, I feel it's about time that I finally give a rundown for those who are interested in keeping her proportions, colours, facial expressions, and other such features canon-adjacent, so to speak.

I'll be numbering my points, because bullet points always seem to get smushed together no matter how I space them, which never fails to aggravate me lol. There's a lot to go over, but I hope I've compiled and summarized them as conveniently as possible. ^^ Alright, now let's make like a Mach Speed secton and go:

1. Trudy's official height is 3'06". For comparison, Rouge is 3'05", and Sonic himself is 3'03". (Originally Trudy was shorter than Rouge, but since Trudy remaining tall in spite of her condition is already a thing, it just felt right this way the more I thought about it.)

2. Trudy's shade of green is much more softer and minty than most green characters in the franchise (Vector, Jet, Scourge, Scourge With A Vagina, etc), as a harsher shade would clash with her portrayal.

3. The rule for her clothing:

Darker blue = headscarf + bandana Medium blue = top + boots Lighter blue = gloves + boot cuffs Brown = breeches + glove cuffs

4. Her muzzle and inner ears are peach, but lighter and more pale than other characters who have peach for those features.

5. Speaking of the ears, they're a teensy bit bigger than Sonic's, but not by much. They're also more rhombus-shaped by comparison.

6. She has five bangs in total, though it may often look like four due to her headscarf.

7. Her eye shape is exactly as it's presented in the image below. The general shape is tsurime, similar to Blaze, but rounder and softer to convey Trudy's personality, and how despite the rough experiences she went through while growing up, they haven't changed her kind heart. Her eyelashes and their length are also exactly as they appear here.

...also, while she's commonly depicted with half-lidded eyes, they're NOT like that all the time like in Rouge and Vanilla's case. Her eyes are fully open in her default state like most of the cast, she's just prone to half-lidded eyes due to her tender demeanour.

And of course, her sclera is NOT the usual white. :P It might look white from afar, but upon closer inspection, it's actually a very subtle light blue. This is often an effect of EDS in real life, so I figured it would be a good way of conveying it visually within the specific framework of a Sonic character. Meanwhile, the shade of brown used is much more warm than cool.

8. She actually has a little boop for her nose (complete with the two nostrils in place of the traditional black dot), it's just not obvious when looking at her from the front, like a mind trick of sorts. It's easier to notice from the side or from other particular angles, like so.

9. There's no easy way of putting this, so I'm gonna come right at ya with it: Trudy does indeed have breasts. Not as overt as Rouge (I say that out of endearment, not out of Bumblekast-flavored contempt), but it's there all the same to indicate she's a bit older than Amy and Cream.

10. Likewise, her legs are on the thick side. Again, more subtly so than Rouge, but still notable when compared to the pipe frames of Amy, Cream, Blaze, etc. And yes, just like horses in real life, she also has a prominent... er, behind, but this too is not quite as blatant as Rouge, since her top tends to obscure some of it, at least when standing up.

11. Her tail reaches down to just above her feet, and can be used to convey some of her emotions, such as slowly swaying when happy, or raising ever so slightly to show her contempt towards a villain. The joke is that she's "politely" telling them they can kiss her ass.

12. Her ponytail reaches down to her back, and in its default state, it forms an S-shape. It's also so close to her back that it may look as though the top and bottom alike are fully glued to her lol. It's not, obviously, but it's another mind trick per say. The height and width of the big upper half are near-equal, for maximum roundness. :3

...however, when she's in motion, be it mild or major, the ponytail can react accordingly in order to convey said motion. This never needs to be portrayed super realistically, what matters is that it looks cute and/or amusing. :3 :3 :3

Basically, if you're familiar with the Shantae franchise, and you know how animated the titular protagonist's ponytail can get, you can play around just as much with Trudy's ponytail.

13. Her gloves are just like Rouge's gloves: they go above her elbows, and fit her arms smoothly even with the small triangular gap on the brown cuffs. They're very much intended to invoke the feeling of classic princess gloves, to contrast the tomboy aspects of her attire.

14. Trudy's boots are yet another mind trick: while they technically go up to her knees like Amy's boots, they end up looking as long as Rouge's boots due to Trudy having longer legs than Amy. :P As for the feet, while they may seem similarly shaped to Amy's boots from a brief glance, the toes have recently been mildly altered to be a little more visually distinct and to reflect Trudy being older than Amy, so the toes are slightly longer and pointed now, as seen below. Despite this, they still lack heels, because heels are a no-no for Trudy's sensitive hooves.

15. Despite her bandana seemingly appearing smaller than her face when she's not using it, it somehow covers the entire lower half of her face perfectly fine like a ninja mask when she is using it. What sorcery is this??? Same reason Amy can pull her hammer out of thin air. Cartoon logic, deal with it.

16. As you can see in the second image above, Trudy's top has a window, which can be easy to overlook since you normally only see it when she has her bandana up. And on the subject of her top, as you may have noticed in a few images earlier, the top also has two small triangular cuts at the bottom of both her sides.

17. As for other details that are normally concealed by her clothing, her body has some pale peach that matches her muzzle and inner ears: it starts exactly at her *ahem* chest, and goes down across the middle portion of her front, ending where the stomach ends. Her feet - or rather, her hooves - resemble the typical round and toeless texture of most Sonic characters, except they're grey, with a little bit of fluff over them like so.

18. Trudy can certainly show a wide range of facial expressions, even playful and silly ones that you might not expect from her, but even so, they are always presented in a dignified and restrained manner. She's also not the type to lose her temper outright, preferring Tranquil Fury, so you won't be seeing her gnashing her teeth madly.

In other words, if Trudy shows visible disgust towards Eggman and his nefarious ways, she would not pull a Jack Nicholson Joker grimace ala Tracy Yardley's Sonic while doing so. She would much rather turn her head a little to the side and turn her nose up at him all proper-like.

19. And finally, simply put, the design of her trusty bow is as it appears here:

...and her whip, in its finalized form, can easily be described as being able to extend like a regular whip, while the handle resembles a rapier handle.

Bonus Fun Fact: During the very early stages of Trudy's design, I considered giving her a cape that reached down to just below the knees, so as to fit her unique mix of refined-yet-quirky. It wasn't super-detailed or anything, it was simple enough, but elegant nonetheless. However, I decided against it due to fears of it potentially making the design too cluttered, and also thinking about Trudy's design not causing inconvenience if she were actually playable in a game.

That said, I still think about it from time to time, as while it may not be part of her finalized attire, I still think a cape could look endearing on her, partly due to an old comic by Skaru, so if anyone wants to try their hand at drawing her with one, that's perfectly fine with me. :> Plus, with those who already accuse Trudy of being a Whisper ripoff, despite Trudy existing long before IDW Sonic in general was even a thing, it'd be a funny way of baiting them lmao.

And that's about it, assuming I don't remember something else five seconds after uploading this post! So for any artists who prefer to draw her with her "canon" proportions and whatnot, I hope this guide is able to help. ^^ Credit for all the art used in this post goes to: @skaruresonic @star-stages @nuncadisponible @sonikkuruzu @eva-of-the-sea @thespeedhighway @aquillis-main @la-nom-nom @latias-eevee-hatori

[thatbennybee]

Hello 👋🏻!!

I hope this isn’t a dumb question, but why did you decide to give Branch a belly button jewel? Was there a specific reason or did you decided that all trolls should have them?

Your Snoutsniffer is adorable 🥰!!! It reminds me of a corgi!!! Any chance Branch might end up keeping/adopting her at the end?

Also I don’t know why but when I picture Mitsy and Rhonda meeting for the first time, I imagine Rhonda being scared of Mitsy instead of the other way around 😂!!! With Rhonda trying to hide behind JD 😂🤣!!!

All of them should have them!! Well, some versions of the original Good Luck Trolls dolls had them and Poppy actually had one in her old concept art! Apparently both Poppy & Branch had them during early development but it was changed.

I used to watch the Trollz series as a kid, and they had belly gems too, so I was so sad when it seemed like it was no longer something trolls just had :[ I give Branch and all his brothers a rhombus/diamond shaped gems and Poppy & Viva heart shaped ones! (Branch's is actually cracked due to his greyness :[ sad...)

The purpose of them aren't very prevalent in this AU but they are in my other fic, Trail Mix.

---

I hope Branch ends up keeping Mitsy, but it's Milton's critter, so it's up to him 🥺 I wanted Mitsy to be like Branch's little Rhonda, so you're right about that!! ;] <3

She's supposed to be like an armadillo/dog/cat thing... She meows! LOL

[rhetoricandlogic]

Breathcatching: The Twice-Drowned Saint by C.S.E Cooney

Posted 3rd February 2023 by Sia in Fantasy Reviews

I was so determined to write this book a review that did it justice, I actually ended up reading it twice – once over a period of weeks; the second time, I gulped the whole thing down in a single day.

I REGRET NOTHING.

For real, though: this is a book that lost none of its lustre on a reread, which is a noteworthy accomplishment all by itself. I wasn’t bored for a moment, even when I knew exactly how everything was going to go down; I still felt all the Feels; I still got thrill-shivers at the breathcatching parts. I still loved getting to see an older (‘older’; 38 isn’t actually old, but you know what I mean) protagonist who is equal parts cynical and hopeful, snarky and smart; I was still gleeful over the system of holy benisons-as-currency; I still adored Betony, from her platinum crown to her dusty feet. I still wanted to watch movies at the Quick and wander beautiful, fruitful Bloom and take a peek at what books a public library in a city ruled by angels might hold.

But.

Cooney routinely leaves me speechless, and The Twice-Drowned Saint is no exception – despite having read it twice, I have no idea how to describe, never mind explain, this brilliantly, beautifully bizarre little novel, with its properly unbiblical angels, a possessed police-force, and a sacred cinema of silent, black-and-white movies! What am I supposed to say???

I loved it. Obviously.

I was not completely sure I would, at first! I dove in as excited as I could possibly be, but I was not expecting first-person narration, and was a bit disappointed, since first-person makes it hard to justify the gleefully ostentatious syntactical and lexical extravaganza that is Cooney’s prose in third-person. But I shouldn’t have doubted her; she’s established in multiple short stories that her first-person writing still glitters and gleams and glitzes, and so it does here in The Twice-Drowned Saint. In fact, I might actually recommend this as a good place to start if you’ve never read Cooney before and are wary of the purple prose (a term I use not derogatorily but with love) that I’ve raved about in her other books, because here, the dial’s turned down on the logophilia, but the story still sizzles and sears with Cooney’s signature quixotic whimsy and vivid, fantastical weirdness.

There were two things every Gelthic citizen knew. One: only saints could see the angels who ruled us. Two: Alizar the Eleven-Eyed, Seventh Angel of Gelethel, had no saint. He hadn’t had one for a long time. Now I will tell you what the angel Alizar looks like.

Neither of which would shine quite so brightly seen through the eyes of a lesser narrator, but Ishtu Q’Aleth is a main character whose personality and voice are every bit as uniquely distinct – and perfect for the story she’s telling – as were Maurice’s of The Bone Swans of Amandale or Mar’s of The Witch in the Almond Tree (short stories that can be found in Bone Swans and The Witch in the Almond Tree: and other stories respectively). But rather than being a shapeshifter (Maurice) or a witch (Mar), Ishtu is a little bit of both; a saint hiding in plain sight, having refused the call to serve the angel Alizar – at least, in the traditional way.

I was the Seventh Angel’s best kept secret. And he was mine.

Instead, she and Alizar are secret besties, while Ishtu runs the only cinema in a literal city of angels and Alizar does his best to mitigate the bloodthirstiness of his peers, the rest of the angels who rule over Gelethel, a rhombus-shaped city surrounded by a ginormous wall of ice in the middle of the desert.

Oh, and there’s holy popcorn.

Are you intrigued yet?

There’s so much to love here – silent movies so lovingly described I wish I could watch them for myself; a crime family that is also a charity family; attention to detail that goes right down to Gelethel’s very unique currency; and of course, the thing I was most excited about going into this book: Cooney’s take on angels. As someone ardently following #biblicallyaccurateangels on every platform that lets you track hashtags, I loved the angels of The Twice-Drowned Saint, because although Gelethel’s angels are not made of wheels and fire, Cooney has absolutely captured the vibe of Eerie Alien Otherness, the visceral feel of terror-glory-horror-awe that imbues old-school angels, and channelled it through her own aesthetic.

The angel Alizar sometimes looked like a human-shaped paper lantern, or a sudden release of soap bubbles, or a cloud. He glowed on the inside as if he’d swallowed a hive of horny fireflies, and on the outside, he looked as if a toddler with a glue gun had gone wild with the craft buckets containing outrageous feathers, and twining golden vines, and trumpet-like lowers, and thin, prismatic insect wings.

Superficially, The Twice-Drowned Saint is about how 38yo Ishtu (I’m still so delighted to see an MC who is neither a teen nor in her 20s!) wants out of Gelethel – which is completely forbidden – to get her ailing parents the medical care they need in some other city (angels, apparently, not being fans of public health care). Due to belonging to what I can only call a charitable crime family, Ishtu and her parents could sneak out – but Ishtu doesn’t feel she can abandon Alizar, who is the least of the angels who rule the city, bullied by the rest.

So it’s a good thing another saint of his appears to get the story rolling.

Because really, The Twice-Drowned Saint is a book about a revolution, a massive subversion of our typical assumptions about strength and power, about the rewards of violence versus the rewards of open hands and open hearts.

“That ain’t weakness, Q’Aleth. Weakness is killin’ someone for their bread. Strength is splittin’ your last loaf with them.

It’s about many different kinds of faith, and the treatment of refugees and immigrants, about the hoarding of resources when there’s plenty to go around. It’s about movie-making and storytelling and upending the status quo.

Of course, the poets and the outlaws won against him in the end. That’s what they did, in movies. Maybe the only place they ever did. And that’s why we need movies, Uncle Eril had once told me. That’s why it was such a great good thing–the day your father came to Gelethel.

Which is not to say that this is a preachy book bluntly bleating Moral Lessons at you; instead it’s scintillatingly electric, twisty and rich, fierce and gentle and sizzling. This is a book that bats its eyelashes at you and invites you in, then pours a cocktail of invisible wonders and sheer heart-full humanness down your throat; it’s sitting down in a theatre to a black-and-white silent movie and being blasted with sparkling jewel-tones and a full orchestral soundtrack instead. It always feels a little tongue-in-cheek, as though the story is giving you a wink and letting you in on the joke, even as it takes itself seriously with punctilious care.

Which, yes, sounds like a contradiction, DO YOU SEE WHY I’M HAVING TROUBLE EXPLAINING IT???

It’s so weird! It’s so wonderful! It is such a big glorious story somehow distilled into a powerfully short novel, and I am not doing it justice at all, but please believe me when I tell you it is marvellous.

As in, excellent.

As in, full of marvels and miracles.

Alizar the Eleven-Eyed was waiting there to welcome me. He was there, in the firmament, in the clusters of star-like eyes and the spaces between them. He was also all around me, sitting in my bones: jewel-flame flower bells, feathering ferns, the fluttering of membranous wings, a warm and golden thing, like a lamp filled with fireflies.

Do I have any critiques? Sure, but they’re extremely minor; I found it a little too easy/obvious that Alizar, the one good angel, is also the only angel who is aesthetically pretty – the others we see are all quite horrifying and monstrous. And although the grand finale was appropriately goosebump-giving, I didn’t understand why A Certain Thing was necessary – even on my second read, I didn’t catch any explanation or follow the reasoning.

You know, you gonna be a poet, you gotta get yourself some ink. In the real world, poets are head-to-toe tattoos. ‘War flowers,’ we used to call ’em, in Rok Moris.

But I really don’t care, because literally everything else is freaking EPIC. The surreal, wildly imaginative setting and worldbuilding; the pretty incredible complexity of each member of the cast and their relationships to each other (the uncles!!!)(no for real though THE UNCLES!!!); the frankly ridiculous number of times this book took me by surprise – both in terms of big plot twists and itsy-bitsy details–

And, of course, Ishtu herself.

He was like a cricket some kid had poured diatomite over. He was a murderer. A fanatic for the angels. Worse, a teenager.

Oh, Ishtu. *happy sigh*

In short? Yes, I loved it. Obviously. And I will be reading it again – not least because I caught two Easter Egg nods to Saint Death’s Daughter and Bone Swans, and am sure there are more that I missed!

[saiwasneverhere]

rewriting chapter one hehe (ITS SCIENCE NOT ENGLISH RN)

( @the-one-who-lambs, you might wanna read this :))

any feedback, i shall eat with happiness. and this is lambert for your information :>

*inhale*

What did we do to deserve this? What even happened? All I know, is that Narinder was chained, for a millennium. The prophecy foretold a lamb of being a successful vessel. And now the Bishops preached a belligerent genocide upon the sheep, and the sheep specifically. I could not let my little sister, Lily, see all the bloody and dead bodies dragged upon the floor, then she became among those who were dragged and dead, with a spear in her stomach. I witnessed the whole bloodbath, attempted to run away from it, now I am the final hit.  I look around, a lot more people were killed here, and it looked grotesque. Ripped vocal cords, gouged out eyes, ears mushed together, and hearts of forever bleeding.  I got thrusted onto my knees, and I look up, anger yet horror beating into me, harder and harder, like a ram in me, slowly getting increasingly agitated. The Bishops stood before me, all bearing a crown.  The bush worm, with a bandage wrapped around his head like a blindfold, bore the Green Crown, a crown with a bright, poison-green rhombus eye.   The frog had a bandage wrapped around her throat like a scarf, only tighter. She had four eyes, pitch black with red crosses as pupils. Two were protruding a bit, like a small lamb’s horns. And she bore the Yellow Crown, a crown with a summer-yellow, upside-down eye, making it look forever gruff.   The third, had two bandages around his roughly torn ear fins. He bore the Blue Crown, which was shaped like a cone. The round, sapphire-blue eye looked permanently surprised.   The fourth looked mournful. They had a heavily bloodstained bandage around their head, and the crown atop them, was a purple eye, which was shaped as a crescent moon.   In order, I have a horrible feeling that they are Leshy, Heket, Kallamar, and Shamura.  They all said something about the prophecy, the Lamb genocide being over with me as the final hit, and that he will never meet his goal. I cannot make it out well, my thoughts spoke louder. The last thing I knew, is that Leshy laughed, “Any last words Damned Lamb!?” Without thinking, I screamed out, tears stinging my throat; “お前らは皆、何者でもない! ただの神々に過ぎない! ただの人間が曲げたり制御したりできるものに! 死は悪い者ではない、それはお前たち全員だ、クズの仲間たち、お前たちの息子たちよ-” (“YOU ALL ARE NOTHING! NOTHING BUT MERE GODS TO FLUXXES! TO SOMETHING THAT CAN BE BENT AND CONTROLLED BY A MERE HUMAN! DEATH IS NOT THE ONE IN THE WRONG, IT'S YOU ALL, PEICES OF SCUM, YOU SONS OF A-”) Kallamar looked horrified, Leshy was shocked, Shamura was unfazed, his gaze was still cold. Heket looked disgusted, she screamed, drowning my voice with her hoarse and rough one, “Off with his head!”   And I felt a horrible pain around my neck, and it shot up to my head rapidly.   I see scarlet red blood on the corners of my sight, and I feel my body get all cold, and my eyes roll into the back of my head.   A single image flashed before me, a silhouette of a ram, a crown atop his head, he had four horns, two like an ewe, the other two like a ram, and his wool was long, blowing in the wind, which I cannot feel. Blood was splashed all over his body, his hands were covered in it, bodies of clawed and rammed heretics lie around him. He wore robes like the Bishops… he turned his head towards me, and a scarlet red eye, looking right in my eyes... his eyes looking like he was insane...  I thought I met my end after that. But really, it turned out the complete opposite on how I thought I would die.  “Ow, my head…” 

(oh yeah, i deactivated and then resurrected, hannah, it's nightfall but im sai now so yeah :3)

[thatonesongyouretryingtoremember]

EL HOPPER HAIR GUIDE PART TWO

Part one here

First set is the drawings, second has digital drawing of the overall shape (meaning regardless of detail shapes)

Click for quality-- ask in replies if there's something you can't read <2

Remember- if her hair is straight, it makes a triangle. If it is curly, it makes a rhombus. Fringe/bangs is always a curvy rectangle. For hair, it is not necessary to outline the full thing, only enough to show the strands that stand out <2

This tutorial applies to El because she has curly hair that is usually straightened, but it might not work for every subject, which is why her name is on the tutorial. Different hair types make shapes differently, and I only i say this much about El specifically because I am obsessed with her <2 ALSO for the two Lenora ones-- her hair is longer than shoulder length (or at least that's how I'm drawing it) but you cannot see the full length because I drew it behind her ears :3

Usual hair tips like "have the whole skull size in your initial sketch" also apply, especially for her shaved hair, but I did not write them because this one is a guide and not a full tut <2

[geometropolis]

grt3D episode 2: search party

the light dawned quietly on geometropolis, its presence only known to those awake to see its light. kite was one such shape, staring out of the window of her team’s cabin. she was quite lost in thought, ruminating over her team’s loss in the previous challenge.

i could’ve done more for my team, she pondered. i got too cocky with that attack of mine. and when rhombus hit me with that... weird... limb-removing ray? what was that? anyway... when they used that weird thing on me, and my limbs were gone, i got easily hit with the power of two and wasn’t able to do anything helpful the rest of the time…

kite turned back to see her teammates, who were still sound asleep. they were off in dreamland somewhere; hopefully, wherever that was, it was more pleasant than their cabin – it really was the bare necessities. there was little room and few luxuries, but kite didn’t mind. she was too busy thinking to care.

i just hope that none of us get out. someone from our team or helvetica is leaving today. even though i don’t know my teammates too well, i’m sure i’ll miss them. and anyway... what even happens to us when we’re eliminated?

kite glanced out the window again, and heard a subtle staticky noise, as well as... was that whispering? from afar. origin was roaming around, almost hesitantly. kite couldn’t really make out what he was whispering to himself, but she didn’t have much time to think about it - soon enough, a large flash emanated from him... and he was gone. kite briefly considered this in bemusement, but soon relapsed into her quiet contemplation.

…

“are you sure? they might find it annoying... especially this early...”

“OH WELL!”

“...so i should?”

“DO YOU WANT TO WRITE THEM ALL PERSONALIZED INVITATIONS TO GET UP, TWINKLE-SPRINKLE?”

origin was first rather surprised by möbius’ new nickname for him, but then considered the idea. “can i?”

“JUST DO IT.”

“yes, sir...”

origin’s speech subsided, as a large speaker appeared in his center. after a moment, terribly loud elevator music started playing from it.

“goody goodness!” circle exclaimed, having fallen off of his bed. “what in math is that?”

triangle groaned, glancing at him from her bed. “i’d be able to answer your question if i could actually hear you.” she got off and looked around. “ugh, it’s that big golden thingy again. come on, roundy.”

she started to leave and beckoned to her teammates. rectangle filed out after her and frowned. “don’t call him ‘roundy’... that isn’t nice...”

“you don’t mind, do ya?” triangle asked her yellow friend.

“nope!” he replied. “i quite like it, actually. it’s funny.”

“see?” triangle patted rectangle. “don’t fret, tango. hey...you don’t mind me calling you that, do you?”

square chuckled from behind and pushed the three out of the doorway. “come on, möbius probably wants to start things for the day. let’s not dillydally... or whatever.”

soon enough, a cavalcade of polygons (among others) arranged themselves in the field, looking in anticipation at origin and möbius strip. the former was still blasting elevator music.

“can you stop?” octagon called to him. no reply came.

origin edged a tad closer to möbius strip. “hey... moby... can i stop the noise now?”

“MOBY?” if a möbius strip could look incredulous, he sure could pull it off. “MOBY??”

origin edged back. “sorry, um, you just called me ‘twinkle-sprinkle’ earlier and i-“

“WHAT IS IT?”

“oh, can i stop the noise now?”

“YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, PALLY!”

and the noise stopped. silence filled the field.

“so... um... we gonna... do something??” star queried after a moment, rather loudly.

“shhh!” heart pulled his arm.

“YEAH, LOL,” möbius replied, deadpan. “I’M GONNA PUNT ONE OF YOU SUCKERS TO KINGDOM COME.”

the members of yim yum and helvetica looked at their respective teammates morosely. all but pentagon, who likely isn’t capable of looking morose, and heptagon, who was struggling to shield his excitement.

“would you mind telling us where exactly kingdom come is?” oval asked, scratching his head nervously.

a möbius strip obviously doesn’t have eyes, and yet one can certainly give the impression of staring into your soul. möbius proceeded to do so, before retreating and sweetly saying, “YOU’LL BE GOING TO THE PARADOX!”

heptagon’s expression changed into one of distress. he thought they’d be going home.

“oh, okay, thanks,” oval replied to möbius strip, even though he had no clue what the paradox was.

“NO, I MEANT IT.” möbius insisted. “YOU, OVAL, SPECIFICALLY, WILL BE GOING TO THE PARADOX. RIGHT NOW.”

oval stepped back in shock. “what? oh?” he frowned and looked at his teammates. “gosh, i have to leave so soon...” he looked back at möbius. “is there any particular reason why i’m eliminated? a vote, or–”

“BUH-BYE!”

with that, oval started floating towards the buzzing origin - and his limbs suddenly disappeared as he stuck to him with a zhloop.

“golly....” oval looked at rest of the shapes in the field. “well, folks, it’s been nice working with you! i hope you all have a wonderful ti–”

and with a flash and a bang, origin and oval were gone.

heptagon bit his lip and furrowed his brow.

kite sighed, before approaching her remaining teammates. “hey guys... i suppose we didn’t do too well last time... if we work harder, i know we can–”

“we didn’t do well?” parallelogram raised an eyebrow. “sorry to be so harsh, but i think there’s one person here who needs to ‘work harder’.”

he squinted and stared at heptagon, who was now lying down again.

“come on, parry, give him a break–”

“he’s had enough of a break as it is.”

“...well, you can manage to cut him some slack, can’t you? come on, let’s not fight over this.”

“yeah, um, please don’t fight over this actually,” rhombus called to their cousin. “möbius is kinda waiting for you.”

kite gasped. “oh! oh i’m so sorry! please go on with whatever you were gonna say, möbius strip...”

“SHE KNOWS NOT TO CALL ME ‘MOBY’,” möbius muttered to himself, rather loudly. “AAAANYWAY, IT’S CHALLENGE TIME! TODAY’S CHALLENGE WILL BE A SCAVENGER HUNT.”

“ooh! sounds fun!” pentagon smiled.

octagon sighed. “but fewer rules than last time... alas.”

a pause. “IF YOU DON’T MIND,” möbius cleared his theoretical throat. “EACH TEAM WILL GET A LIST OF ITEMS TO FIND AND A CAMERA. AS YOU FIND EACH ITEM ON THE LIST, TAKE A PHOTO OF IT WITH YOUR CAMERA. ONCE YOU’VE FOUND EVERYTHING, COME TO TWINKLE AND SHOW HIM YOUR PHOTOS. THE LAST TEAM TO FINISH THE SCAVENGER HUNT WILL BE UP FOR ELIMINATION.”

heart and star sighed in relief in unison. “finally something less confusing!” they both said. “jinx!” they both said again, and chuckled. 

droplet raised her hand.

“YES, MORTAL?” möbius addressed her politely.

“well... twinkle isn’t back yet, and we don’t have the lists or cameras yet either...”

“OH, HE’LL BE BACK. I’LL BE SURE OF IT.”

“um, what about the lists... or cameras...?”

and as she said each, möbius dropped them in the hands of a member of each team.

“BEGIN, I GUESS,” möbius muttered.

“nice! what a cool camera,” trapezoid chuckled to himself, admiring its specs (which weren’t actually very good, mind you).

“yikes! this is one bizarre list,” rectangle blinked incredulously at the paper that just manifested in his hand, given its contents. it ran like so:

MÖBIUS’ MARVELOUS MANIACAL MEGA... SCAVENGER HUNT THINGY (NOTE TO SELF: ASK TWINKY-DINK FOR MORE COOL WORDS STARTING WITH M)

1 - SOMETHING BIG AND GREEN

2 - SOMETHING PUFFY

3 - SOMETHING THAT MAKES THE SOUND ‘WFFFFFFFFTH’

4 - X

5 - SOMETHING THAT SMELLS BLUE

7 - A LONG DISTANCE

8 - MY WILL TO LIVE

9 - WHAT CURSIVE SOUNDS LIKE

10 - WHEN I ASKED FOR YOUR OPINION

11 - ITEM NUMBER SIX

square peered over his shoulder at the list. “... i can’t read this.”

“the first one says ‘something big and green’.”

rectangle’s brother nudged him smugly. “i wonder what that could be.”

rectangle blinked, and paused to think a moment. “...i’m green.”

meanwhile, hexagon was sitting down, plucking at her ukulele (which origin had been so kind to bring her from home, upon her request).

“could you please stop, hexagon?” octagon groaned. “i’m trying to find out how to make pentagon big.” she continued pacing around, chewing thoughtfully on her pacifier.

“mommy says i’ll be big when i’m older,” pentagon noted, stomping at the ground rather violently. “but i don’t want to be bigger. when you’re small, you can crawl into the walls more easily.”

trapezoid sighed. “well anyway, octagon, i don’t see how making pentagon bigger would help. she isn’t green green, she’s chartreuse.”

“chartreuse is technically still green, dummy,” octagon yelled. “and this is the only lead i’ve got, so shut it.”

hexagon turned around. “wait a sec, octy?”

“don’t call me octy.”

“octagon, could you grab pentagon’s right hand? i have an idea.”

octagon shook her head.

“please?”

“why?”

“pretty please?”

octagon grumbled and dramatically swung her arm around to grab pentagon’s hand, sneering. in doing so, she accidentally knocked into rhombus. “watch it!” she snapped, frowning at them.

rhombus wordlessly knocked into their limb remote, which, releasing a beam of light, removed droplet’s limbs. droplet had been sleeping, and the beam awoke her.

“huh… hey, heart! heart! i know what’s puffy!” she exclaimed after coming to her senses.

heart rushed over, rather out of breath. “really? thank goodness...”

“dreams! aren’t they so puffy and light?”

“yeah! but i don’t think we can take pictures of dreams, sorry… hey, where’s the camera anyway?”

“oops. storage full...” star tossed the camera over his head between his hands. “oopsie doopsie doop...”

“star, you know what i told you...” heart took the camera from his friend, and sighed once he began browsing through the photos. “we need this camera for the challenge, not for taking pictures of you... you might be awfully photogenic – i m-mean, heh, you might awfully want to take pictures of yourself right now, but we need this camera if we don’t want to be up for elimination.”

droplet glanced over at the two and blinked.

“oh, it’s fine,” star patted heart and smiled. “we won immunity last time, didn’t we? why can’t it happen again?”

“well, if we don’t look for anything–”

“shshh – you’re worrying too much. you should come relax with me.”

heart sighed and walked over to rhombus, looking forlornly at the list of items to find.

at the same time, kite was busy thinking – not like that’s anything out of the ordinary.

“i’d imagine cursive would sound like... very flowery, perhaps even slightly pretentious, language. i mean, i guess you could write anything in cursive, even crude things, but generally speaking...”

parallelogram toyed with the camera. “what difference would it make? you can’t take a picture of fancy talk.”

“...can’t you record a video on that?” kite asked, motioning to the camera.

“this thing? i think these cost a digit a piece.”

“yeah, it looks pretty cheap, huh. but oh well, we’ll make do... won’t we, heptagon?”

heptagon barely glanced at her in response.

“if you have any suggestions for any of the items on the list, don’t be afraid to tell us.”

he rolled his eyes. “sure thing.”

parallelogram groaned. “well then, if we can’t actually record what cursive sounds like, what now?”

kite thought for a second. “could we take a picture of actual cursive? i mean, if we can’t record anything, i guess cursive itself would represent its sound, right?”

“i guess so. d’you have a pencil?”

kite checked their nonexistent pockets momentarily. “sorry, nope.”

parallelogram tutted. “what now? i can’t write in cursive without a pencil... do you have a pen?”

“nope.”

“crayon?”

“would it suffice to say that i have no writing implements of any sort?”

“yes, even if the very fact would annoy me to no end… what now?”

the two sat there thinking together.

“okay!” hexagon exclaimed. “now trapezoid, grab pentagon’s left hand, ‘kay?”

trapezoid did just that.

“okay,” hexagon continued. “if i’m remembering correctly, if a shape is pulled at from both sides, they’ll dilate for as long as the force is being applied. pentagon, are you okay with a little tug? it shouldn’t hurt.”

pentagon grinned. “yes please!”

trapezoid looked at her with concern. 

“okey doke,” hexagon started, pulling out the camera and kneeling down. “now… pull!”

octagon and trapezoid pulled pentagon in two directions at once – causing her to grow in size!

“woah!” pentagon gasped. 

“perfect!” hexagon exclaimed after a moment of pulling. “stay right where you are.” then she snapped the shutter and grinned. 

octagon approached to look at the photo, causing pentagon to snap back to her original, tiny size. as she handed the camera to octagon, hexagon picked up her ukulele again and strummed in satisfaction.

“this is...” octagon started. “actually really clever of you! wow!”

hexagon strummed again, even more satisfied now, smiling right up against octagon. “thanks! that’s especially flattering, coming from you!”

“oh, sh-shut up,” octagon looked away before hexagon could see her facial expression.

“...can i come back now?” trapezoid called, still holding pentagon’s hand. “did it work?”

“yeah! come see!” hexagon waved at the two of them.

trapezoid and pentagon joined octagon and pentagon and, upon seeing the result of hexagon’s idea, trapezoid patted pentagon on the head with pride. “good job, kiddo!” he said with a smile.

“okay, whatever, so hexagon’s plan worked,” octagon muttered. “let’s just get on with things. what’s next?”

“be polite, missy. and next is ‘something puffy’.”

“okay, ‘smelling blue’ is totally beyond me. whoever wrote these needs help!” triangle tried for the millionth time to rip the list in half, given its infuriating absurdity. however, rectangle snatched it from her again.

“they sure do. möbius lost all of these things and needs us to find them! that must be terrible, losing so many things at once...”

“well, they certainly lost number 6,” square scoffed. “cuz that’s nowhere to be found.”

circle grabbed the list and squinted. “could they hide it somewhere? is it really small or written in invisible ink or something?”

“well, a long distance shouldn’t be too hard to find,” triangle pointed out. “or rather make.”

“how?” 

triangle abruptly grabbed rectangle, causing him to yelp.

“woah, dude!” square flared up. “what in math are you doing?”

“i’m gonna throw tango really far! to make a long distance between him and us.”

“you’re gonna do what?” rectangle cried. 

“no way am i letting you throw my brother,” square said. “if you have to throw anyone, throw me.”

“or you could just throw me,” circle suggested. “i wouldn’t mind.”

“why are you so worried about getting immunity?” rhombus asked heart, absentmindedly returning droplet’s limbs.

“we don’t know what the paradox is. i don’t want to have to find out.”

droplet, now able to stand up, stood up. she turned and glanced at star, who was busy doing nothing. “i think this would be faster if we could get star to help us!”

heart chuckled sheepishly. “yeah... but star said he wants to relax, so it’s up to us to win the challenge.”

“can you relax with me?” star called. “it’s so boring without you.”

“sorry, star! i can’t right now!”

“ugh... fine...”

heart turned back to his other teammates. “okay, so, anyway, what could ‘x’ mean?”

“you’ve known star since you two were young, correct?” rhombus asked.

“hm? yes...” heart jumped back, rather surprised. “but wait! i n-never told you that.. how do you know?”

rhombus shrugged. “i can’t see why else you two would be so close. you have nothing in common.”

heart bit his lip. “...he’s a fun guy! star’s a nice person who likes people to be happy. i enjoy his company.”

“...i see. also ‘x’ implies a variable, an unknown, which makes your question about what it is kind of redundant.”

parallelogram started aiming the camera to be thrown at heptagon’s resting face.

“don’t!” kite exclaimed. “come on, let’s think.”

“i mean, huh...... hey, wait a sec!”

“what is it?”

“can’t we just take a picture of the words ‘what cursive sounds like’ on the list?”

“what? how? why?”

“i mean, ‘what cursive sounds like’ is indeed ‘what cursive sounds like’, right?”

“...yeah?”

“so we could hand in ‘what cursive sounds like’ for ‘what cursive sounds like’ and technically be correct.”

“yeah... yeah! yeah wait actually you are so right!” in her excitement, kite leaned over and hugged parallelogram.

“i-i am?”

kite retreated shyly. “y-yeah, you are... and wait, couldn’t that technically apply to all of them then?”

“‘something big and green’, ‘something puffy’, ‘something that makes the sound “wffffffffth”’.... yeah, it checks out!”

“not really,” a monotone voice interrupted.

“what? heptagon?” kite turned around.

“it can’t work for the last one, as item number six doesn’t exist.”

“what do you mean?” parallelogram turned to face him as well. “‘item number six’ is the same as ‘item number six’, right?”

“sure, but ‘item number six’ can’t be the same as anything if it never existed to begin with.”

“but... then...” kite bit her lip. “then our plan wouldn’t work for a number of them... nothing actually smells blue, and cursive doesn’t sound like anything, right? and i suppose if somebody were really down in the dumps, their will to live might not exist either...”

“‘my will to live’??” heart slumped, exasperated. “i don’t want to be psychoanalyzed right now! i didn’t sign up for this!”

rhombus paused, swiftly putting away their comically large clipboard. “...you didn’t?”

“we’re gonna be up for elimination, i just know it... we’ve only found two things... i’m so sorry, you two...”

“hey, it’s okay!” droplet patted him on the shoulder. “i don’t think anyone else is finished. betcha they’re just as confuzzled as we are.”

“i doubt that’s possible...”

rhombus blinked at him momentarily. “i think you do need to relax.”

“you ready?” triangle asked.

“i’m not ready, i’m roundy!” circle giggled as triangle held him up.

“yeah, okay.” and without another word triangle sent him flying south. “can one of you two take a picture?” she asked rectangle and square.

“well, we’d have to take it in such a way that shows the long distance,” rectangle noted, “so both you and circle have to be in frame.”

“what does that mean?”

“well, either i walk back really far so the camera captures both of you, or circle moves closer.”

“why should he move closer when i took an entire second to throw him?”

“fair… then i guess i just have to move back myself.”

triangle suddenly grabbed him again. “it’d be easier if i just threw you back instead.” and she did.

“okay folks, we’re down to number 5...” trapezoid eyed the bizarre list. “now, does anyone know what blue smells like?”

“is it supposed to smell like something?” hexagon was tuning her uke.

“hmm...” pentagon popped out of a bush. “would blue paint technically smell like blue?”

“i don’t think each color of paint has a distinct smell... it’d probably just smell like paint,” hexagon pointed out. “unless the different colors of paint do smell different?”

“it might depend on the brand of paint,” trapezoid suggested.

“it doesn’t matter either way!” octagon thumped her foot. “we don’t have any paint!”

“we certainly won’t have any paint with that attitude, octagon,” trapezoid chided.

hexagon sat and thought for a second. “do any of you have paint at home?”

octagon blinked at her confusedly. “y-yeah, but how does that help anything?”

“well,” hexagon stroked her ukulele. “i had my uke at home, and when i asked origin politely to get it for me, he did.”

octagon’s eyes widened. “who? oh yeah! twinkle, that infernal thing! you’re right!”

pentagon looked around, and spotted origin to the northwest. “and good for us, origin finally came back. möbius was right.”

“hey ory!” hexagon waved to him from where she stood. “could you come over here please?”

origin moved over to helvetica swiftly. “is there anything i could do for you?” he asked quietly, happily.

“whoa, i didn’t know it could talk,” octagon muttered.

trapezoid chuckled sheepishly. “hey bud, i think you need to ask origin yourself. the paint is at your house, after all,” he whispered to her.

“fine, okay,” octagon conceded. “twinkle, get me my paints from home.”

origin didn’t reply, but somehow appeared uncomfortable.

octagon grumbled as hexagon nudged her. “ugh. could you pretty please get my paints from home, origin? i would really appreciate it.” she glared at hexagon after this. “this better work,” she whispered behind clenched teeth.

“oh, sure, if you’d like!” origin replied. “thank you for asking so politely.”

and with that he flew off.

“we don’t even know if blue paint smells blue...” octagon sighed.

möbius strip watched the teams from far up north. in the corner of his vision he could see origin flying by, and groaned as he left the field.

“FOR THE LOVE OF GEOMETRY!” möbius cried. “I JUST GOT THAT DWEEB BACK HERE, AND HE’S ALREADY LEAVING! THIS CHALLENGE IS TAKING LONG ENOUGH AS IT IS! UGGGGGGH!!!”

heart glared concernedly at möbius from where he stood. “that guy is terribly loud.”

he looked back at the list and started to pace. “come on, heart, come on! this isn’t like the play in 3rd grade, no, this is something you can actually do... right?”

“hey, heart?” a voice called from the right of him. heart turned around to see rhombus sitting down by star and droplet.

“y-yeah?”

“i’ve looked over every possibility. some of those are literally impossible.”

“möbius strip wouldn’t do that to us, would he?” droplet asked them. “that wouldn’t be very nice...”

“oh, he totally would. anyway,” they turned back to heart. “we’ve tried really hard to find the things on that list, but we can’t. you really should take it easy.”

“but– we’ll–” heart stammered.

“chill out, bromide,” star shrugged. “even if, cuz of you, we win immunity this round, you’d be so darned tired for the next one you wouldn’t even be able to participate!”

heart did realize the truth in his best friend’s words, but still wasn’t comforted. “but if we don’t win immunity this round, i might not be there to even see it… i’ll be in some prime-forsaken place…”

“come here, buddy,” star got up and grabbed heart’s hand, before dragging him down to relax with the other two. “settle down.”

upon laying down, heart’s eyes started to close, and he chuckled momentarily. “dreams really are puffy, aren’t they...?” and then his eyelids became heavy…

“there goes our entire plan...” parallelogram grunted. “thanks a lot...”

heptagon blinked curiously at him, then shrugged and lay down again.

“oh, come now parry. we should thank him for contributing.” kite turned to heptagon. “you’re really smart, you know... you would’ve been a big help last challenge.”

heptagon didn’t reply.

“hm. well,” kite picked up the list again. “then i guess we can’t finish this at all, can we?”

“huh?” parallelogram moved up next to her.

“i mean, if we can’t submit the pictures of the questions for these because they don’t exist, then we can’t submit any pictures for them... cuz they don’t exist.”

“oh shoot... oh shoot, you’re right! dodeca-dang it!”

“what’re we gonna do now? i don’t think we can complete the challenge...”

“well...” parallelogram looked around for a moment. “then i doubt anyone else can, either. i think we’re good for now.”

“we should just wait? till when? i don’t think the challenge ends until 3 teams submit their photos...”

“oh well. i’d be happier relaxing here than doing another challenge.”

“really? i thought you liked it here after all.”

“sure, but not for the challenges.”

kite smiled but decided not to push the obvious question. she turned to heptagon. “are you happy we can relax instead of doing another challenge?”

he simply furrowed his brow.

“i mean, you didn’t seem too keen on competing last time, so i’d imagine you don’t like the challenges.”

heptagon simply shrugged again.

“TRIANGLE!” square yelled, glaring at her for throwing his brother. “WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT FOR?”

“hey, i was just trying to make this quick!” she replied. “your brother isn’t as soft as you think he is. he’s fine.”

“well, you don’t know my brother that well…” square grumbled as he left to find rectangle. triangle followed.

rectangle had hit a tree while holding the camera, causing it to break in half.

“rectangle!” square exclaimed with concern. “are you okay??”

“yeah,” rectangle looked back at square, rubbing his head. “but the camera isn’t…”

“oh my prime!” triangle cried. “tango, what have you done?” she picked up the pieces of the broken camera, frustrated.

“it wasn’t his fault, triangle,” square seethed. “it was yours.”

“um…” rectangle furrowed his brow. “let’s just find circle, okay?”

“TWINKLE! FINALLY!” möbius yelled, startling the large golden shape as he came into view. “come over here, we have a challenge to wrap up.”

“oh– but–” origin stuttered. “i have something to deliver to octagon.”

“deliver? you’re no mailman. did i ever give you permission to do that?”

“sorry, no... can i just... can i just give these to her?”

“i’ll be taking those. what are they? paints?”

“yeah... and they’re also octagon’s...”

“well they’re mine now. once we finish the challenge put them away for me. OKAY,” he was talking much louder now, as if announcing. “WHOEVER’S DONE COME TO TWINKLE TO GET YOUR PHOTOS EVALUATED. REMEMBER, LAST TEAM FINISHED IS UP FOR ELIMINATION!”

he waited several minutes, and not one team approached his co-host.

“WHAT IN MATH IS TAKING THEM SO LONG?” möbius strip groaned. “i’m so bored! and i have things to do...”

origin sighed. “could i... see the list of things they need to find?”

“knock yourself out,” möbius threw one to him, somehow. “...hey wait, i never got you to check it over after i wrote it!”

“...when did you write it?”

“earlier this morning.”

“...i was in the paradox this morning....”

“oopsie.”

origin read over the list, and almost flashed into the paradox in surprise. “n-no wonder nobody’s finished...”

“WHAT IS IT?”

“‘when i asked for your opinion’? forgive my impertinence, sir, but half of these either don’t exist, or at least don’t exist tangibly...”

“WELL, WHEN DID I ASK FOR YOUR OPINION ON MY LIST, HUH?”

origin regarded his boss incredulously, but didn’t give the obvious answer. instead, he simply sighed and asked, “could we please end the challenge early? i don’t think this one was very fair...”

“OOH, AND WE PUT EVERYONE UP FOR ELIMINATION, BECAUSE NONE OF THEM FINISHED?” möbius cackled maniacally. “SOUNDS DEVIOUS! I MIGHT ACTUALLY BE STARTING TO LIKE YOU.”

“uh, n-no, i meant none of them would be... i mean, if th-that’s okay with you, of course.”

möbius regarded him incredulously and groaned. “UGH, YOU’RE SUCH A GOODY-TWO-SHOES. BUT FINE, TWINNY, IF YOU INSIST.”

“...i don’t insist, but yeah, thanks...”

and after a moment, the speaker appeared on origin again. möbius could easily be heard as it was, but he liked being a bit dramatic sometimes. as he announced the following, it was broadcasted through origin’s speaker…

“THIS CHALLENGE IS OVER. ALL OF YOU WIN IMMUNITY. BYE.”

and with that, möbius strip took the paints himself and departed, leaving 15 confused contestants and one awfully embarrassed origin.

“y-yeah...” he apologetically and very shyly addressed them. “s-sorry about all this... we decided that it was... that it was... impossible... to c-complete the challenge...” origin’s voice trailed off. he stayed in place for a few awkward moments.

“what a rip-off!” octagon yelled at him. and with that, origin immediately flashed away to the paradox.

heart woke up abruptly from the sudden noise. “...did we... did we lose...?”

rhombus turned and looked at him. “none of us did.”

“thank the primes!” and heart fell back asleep with a sigh of relief.

…

“hello, um, sorry about this.”

“no, it’s fine. you don’t need to apologize.”

“i should’ve explained to you what was going to happen. where you were about to go.”

“it’s okay, it’s okay…” oval assured him. “but now that i’m here, it’d be nice if i got an explanation.”

“oh, yeah, sure!” origin said. “welcome to the paradox... don’t really know why it’s called that, to be honest. it’s basically just a graph world.”

“ah, okay.”

“it goes on forever and ever... and all there is is this big ol’ grid. nothing more, nothing less.”

“hey twinkle – sorry, origin,” oval piped up after a moment, “could i have my limbs back?”

“oh, sorry, it doesn’t work like that here.”

“oh?”

“yeah, you can’t have limbs in the paradox.”

“bummer.”

“yeah... the paradox is like... the most basic version of our world. no limbs, no faces, just shapes.”

“...ah... so... what will i do here?”

“...proofs.”

“proofs?”

“you’ll be given proofs to solve while you’re here. you have to prove a certain shape is what it says it is. for example, um… prove that you’re an oval!”

“how am i supposed to do that?”

“i don’t know. i guess that’s what you’ll end up learning here.”

“well… i think i’m an oval… no, i know i’m an oval. so therefore, i’m an oval.”

origin chuckled. “guess you cracked the code… but yeah, you’ll be doing proofs. that’s what möbius strip wants eliminated contestants to do, anyway.”

“hm... do i have to, though?”

“i guess not... i don’t really care. and it’s not like möbius can come here and tell me what to do anyway. you can do whatever you want, really.”

“thanks, origin.”

origin paused for a moment. “you’re very welcome.” and then he flashed away.

[sharonisthebettercarter]

Castration and orchidectomy are not the same thing.

Castration is the removal of the testicles, while orchidectomy is the removal of only one testicle. Orchidectomy can be done for medical reasons and to treat certain conditions, but it is also a common procedure for transgender people who are transitioning to a male or male-presenting gender identity.

While both can lead to a reduction in the production of certain hormones, the overall effects and consequences are different depending on the specific procedure and the patient's individual medical needs and goals.

putting these in one again

Orchidectomy (from the Greek "orchi" meaning "testicle") is a surgical procedure in which one or both testicles are removed from a person's body. It's a form of castration, because it removes the production of testosterone from the body. This can lead to a decrease in libido, hair growth, and energy levels, as well as a change in voice and body shape due to the loss of estrogen and testosterone that would usually be produced by the testicles.

Orchidectomy can be done to treat certain medical conditions like uterine, ovarian, and other gynecological cancers as well as testicular cancer.

baby, all you told me in these two is that a square is not a rectangle it's a rhombus but also it is a form of rectangle and it's so unnecessary, i gotta tell ya. but it's a little bit funny to me too

this is all semantics, but from what i gather, orchiectomy is what they call the surgical procedure for bilateral castration today. it's just a slightly newer word for the same old process, granted with much better medical knowledge and safety than the 19th or 16th centuries, but i digress, lmao

emasculation actually has an archaic use that means to castrate as well! neuter is even older than all of them. sorry, lol, synonym nut because i write<3

... smuts... sometimes... ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))

ahem.

i am aware that there are medical advantages or reasonings to castration and that orchiectomy would be used for trans people as well, but i suppose this could be news for others?? and i'm always down for edumacation~<3 (same goes for mastectomies and hysterectomies too, ESPECIALLY for fibroids and endometriosis)

i still thinks it's a bit extreme of a jump for ryan (which has me wondering if you may be projecting some internalized feelings onto him as a character/want to see them represented which to a degree, i can get, go and be *you* if you are trans and don't let anyone tell you different), but don't think i missed all the hints

this tells me you want ryan to be trans i'm guessing? i think rep of a trans person/kid would be nice and plausible for the boys (especially with how witch hunty people are right now, fuck that), but i don't know if i want it to happen to ryan specifically when he like... he *already* has HOMELANDER to deal with and you wanna add to that???

listen... i just wanna see ryan be a little shit and use his powers. the actor who plays him is GREAT at being a creepy little fucker (prior experience in horror!) which i suppose could work with the trans aspect, but like... it would be a lot going on at once (there's a balance here that can be easily overloaded) and i'm not so sure you'd want a little transgirl minilander lasering the shit out of stuff??? (or maybe you do, LMAO!!)

but i also feel like if there were any indication he might be trans, he'd have already shown signs with becca raising him (she was 100% a supportive parent, she raised him gentle which homie insulted but i'm pretty sure she would have let ryan actually be a girl if he felt uncomfortable being a boy is what i'm getting at.)

OR~<3! and here's a kickin' twist... ryan has secretly been trans the whole time<3<3<3!!! (could you imagine, whole different set of problems with homelander finding out but he'd probably *actually* encourage it in this case *just* to hide it since he's already introduced ryan as his son to the public!)

i do think some good trans rep may be more likely for gen v and that it would be lovely to see<3

my thing is that i just want them to add big bobby~<3 (hughie's transwoman friend in the comics) cause she's over 6 foot and a total boss that flaunts her fabulously flamboyant fashion sense while just being all around awesome and huge and awesome and kind of an asshole but also awesome i love her... i also LOVE bobby as a girl's name like you have no idea... IT'S CUTE--.

but idk, it's whatever i guess, and remember that squares are the lovechild of the rhombus and rectangle~<3<3<3

and go write trans ryan fic if you want trans ryan, lol! you have all rights to do whatever the fuck you want in fanfic<3 ;)

**ALSO, i'm assuming the very last thing you mentioned pertains exclusively to intersexed people, satan that did not hit me the first time.

but generally if someone can have an orchiectomy, they don't have a uterus or ovaries (though yes, i am aware some often ignored humans do have both), i would have started by mentioning testicular/prostate/other y chromosome related cancers because generally speaking, someone who has testes does not see a gynecologist or is at risk for any of those cancers. (generally, again, intersex people and chromosomal disorders are a thing)

anywho~<3 ;))))

[blue-bird17]

Forest Run - Chapter 3

Jett waved at us when I went outside for the first time in three days. “Bye kids, be safe! AND DON’T KILL EACH OTHER ON YOUR GUY’S TRIP, ALRIGHT?”

“Got it!” Nevaeh yelled, “See ya, old man!” Nevaeh and Jay are going into Doylestown, which is a one hour bike ride away. Why does this weird investigation station have to be so far from the town? I’m going to die from this annoying kid and so, so tiring bike ride. Though Nevaeh was so tired—and felt like calling a cab to come and pick her up—it was Jay that had trouble keeping up, which surprised Nevaeh because it looks like both Jett and Jay were filled with muscle. I guess it’s because I have stronger wings. Oh right, our wings! “Hey, umm, I have to use the washroom, I guess I’ll have to go out in the woods, uhh, I’ll be back soon, so… See ya.” Loser! Nevaeh trailed her bike over to the woods, went a little way through the trees, and she spread her wings out to fly. She took off for the skies, using her magic to bring along her black bike. She went through the clouds laughing with thrill. This is amazing! I love it up here!

⸻

Where is that girl? Jay thought as paced back and forth, lead in hand. You know what, that’s it, I’m going without her. She knows the way, so she can navigate herself through this open wasteland. He hopped on his bike and petaled off through all the reeds sticking up high. Only if he had as much strength as Nevaeh, he wouldn’t have to stop as much to rest.

When he reached Doylestown, he went straight to the place they were supposed to be if they ever got separated from each other. It’s called Planet Smoothie and it’s on W State St. I guess that’s easy enough for both of us to follow. Nevaeh and Jay only agreed on this because they both like smoothies. They would’ve picked a pizza place, but they couldn’t agree on a pizza. Nevaeh only liked cheese while Jay only liked pepperoni pizza. Jay got inside Planet Smoothie and found Nevaeh waiting there for him.

“How the hell did you get here faster than ME!”

“I got here faster than you because I used my resources wisely.” Nevaeh said calmly.

“You did not.” Jay gasped, “I can’t believe you used your wings! Without me!”

“Well I did. What flavored smoothie do you want?”

“Is that why you went to totally use the washroom! You did that just for you to sneak away with your wings!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, answer my question! What flavored smoothie do you want?” Alright, now Nevaeh was practically yelling at him, he could see the anger in her eyes.

“I still can’t believe you left me! Just left, if that isn’t bad enough, you used your wings instead while I was working up a sweat on that annoying bike!” Jay couldn’t believe he was still caught up in this stupid conversation that he was having with a wall—technically Nevaeh was acting like a blank, white wall.

“Answer the damn question! What flavored smoothie do you want?!” Oh gods, now he’s done it, Nevaeh iris even turned a fiery color, and the pupil shape of it. That changed to what a cat’s pupils look like, a long rhombus reaching from the top down to the bottom of the iris.

“Orange and pineapple…” Jay said while slumping his shoulders over.

Nevaeh went up to order their drinks, then sat down with him and waited quietly—not even one peep from Jay, afraid that he might mess things up again—her name was called and they got up, got their drinks, and left—and of course saying thank you on the way out.

“Where do you want to go now?” Jay said hesitantly, afraid Nevaeh might yell at him again. But her eyes are back to normal, maybe she won’t act harshly anymore for the time being.

“To the skies.” Nevaeh looked up.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Jay questioned.

“Just lock up our bikes to the railing over there.” Nevaeh pointed across the street to a railing that was just out in the open, not connecting to anything. “And then we take off.”

Jay obeyed not saying a word, and went back to Nevaeh. Her beautiful black wings folded out from the royal blue tunic while she was holding on to the stairway railing. Jay got the hint, he made his tiny golden wings pop out of his plain black tunic. My wings are big, but they look like an ant next to her wings! Like- what the hell? Nevaeh beat her wings once and she took off. Now Jay gets it, she wants to go up to the clouds, Jay flapped his wings; once; twice; three times, and then he shot out off the grayish sidewalk.

⸻

Nevaeh shot up into the pink clouds and looked at the golden sky. Jay came through the clouds, coughing when part of the clouds somehow got into his mouth.

“In fantasy stories,” Jay coughed, “the clouds always seemed to taste like cotton candy, I don’t see how though. These supposedly ‘cotton candy clouds’ are horribly for the taste!” Jay spat. “Woah, that’s beautiful.” He gasped.

Indeed it was, the sunset in Doylestown was the prettiest in September. The clouds were this beautiful pink color, the sky going through phases to get from blue to a golden yellow color, skipping over the colors red and orange, only going through purple; pink, and coral to get to the golden sun. With Nevaeh back to Jay, she didn’t notice when he floated over to Nevaeh.

“Hey,” Jay panted, “I don’t know what sort of magic you have, but if you could somehow—”

He wasn’t even able to finish his sentence before Nevaeh used her powers to lift him, only half a thought made him floating beside her. “Is that better for you?” Nevaeh asked a little too sweetly.

“Oh whatever.” Jay said, sass filling his words. He made to make a friendly slap on Nevaeh’s shoulder, but she pushed him away with her magic.

“Don’t be so rude, Jay.” Nevaeh scolded.

“Mhm, like you weren’t going to do something worse than just a little push.”

“Actually, I did just wanted to release my magic and let you fall.”

“Why didn’t you do it? Have you loosened up to like me yet?” Jay battered his eyes.

“Oh please. Don’t flatter yourself, and while you’re at it, don’t act like a little girl.”

“I wasn’t acting like a little girl!” Jay exclaimed.

“Mhm. Okay. Well, anyway, Jett told us not to kill each other, plus I would be put in jail if I didn’t tell the right lies.” Nevaeh explained.

“I didn’t think you’d go that far.” Jay murmured, “Maybe that’s why you don’t have any parents.”

Nevaeh knew he didn’t know anything about her life, or that she had no family, but she couldn’t help being heart-broken at the pointless joke. Nevaeh dove down after whispering, “Now you’ve gone too far.”

⸻

Nevaeh went down out of the skies, her magic leaving with her. “Now you’ve gone too far.” Her voice still whispered in Jay’s head. He was falling from the sky, but he didn’t really care, Jay was more thinking about what she had whispered right after he said those meaningless words. When he could see the birds flying around the trees, he then burst out his wings. As he glided more toward the ground, he started to flap his wings. Once he landed he started off toward the investigation center where Jett would be, Jay could just picture his father waving at Nevaeh and him when they returned. He pictured his father shooing them inside to get some cookies and cider.

Lost in his daydream, he didn’t realize that a white-winged girl stood in front of him until she slapped him. “Hey!” Jay exclaimed, “What was that for?”

A little girl stood in front of Jay, her silky blond hair flowing all around her little white wings. Her white tunic had pink embroidery around the neckline and the bottom of the tunic. She wore black leggings and white flats, her golden tan outlining her outfit. Jay caught something glinting in the setting sunlight, it was a necklace. Silver chain with a charm that looked like an eye, the gem in the middle looked like a dull black with a swirl of dark blue in it. It reminded him of the necklace that Nevaeh wore. 

Then it hit him.

It looked exactly like the necklace Nevaeh always wore.

Sorry for the shorter chapter

1453 words

[the-firebird69]

Tunisia

Tunisia

Off The coasters a shape and it's a buried shape. It looks like a rhombus but a lot of people think it's a shape of a pyramid and our son says probably more like an obelisk and there's probably many of them around there and there are in some are huge and some are hours and some might be Tommy f who has different shaped Stone ships and they're going to check on it and it's a huge one and suicide squad Ii starts. It appears that then aka Trump takes over the island with his son and Terry and they're investigating it and it is a stone ship and bja goes there tonight and it is to try and take it over and in Tunis they have a place too and they want stand out and bJ and trump try getting him out and Sherry.

And then say so you know what it's like and they are out of line they say back and it's going that way real soon they're going to get in a fight and we acknowledge that that's going to happen and it's going to be pretty big. But we think DJ goes out there today and so do these people and that's where they left to in a hurry and they made a note of it that it's in a hurry. And shortly after the first two episodes of Star wars and the fight with Vader begins genoysis battle it's about the automobile as well and a cab battles and they all start up because of this obelisk.

Right now I'm taking over the rest of Genesis automobile and we are going to clear it out and that means take all the parts and all the vehicles and I'm going to use them all how we see fit and well we usually do is part them out and use the chassis for something and there is something that we're going to use them for there's a military vehicle and seals by officers and so forth as a Chrysler it's a transport and it's slightly armored and it's used on base all the time office too and we're going to produce a lot of them and it's Oshkosh and you see them all over the place people really like them but you can't buy it aftermarket it's partly our son's design and the guys were making it happen be here and there yelling at them there's a huge number of them complaining about the nail cutting sound they're going to work and she was too it's a huge huge huge pile of working people that's what they are they need help and we're sending it since giant number of people what he's doing I'm trying to examine it and it's working but getting attention I need that attention but really they're going out to this place and it is associated with a cab and it's going to work it's a giant giant thing happening right now and it should not be underestimated or overlooked it's size and Frosty is intense this is intense and The saga is intense and what's happening even around town because of it is really really potent stuff and this place is a quagmire it's disgusting it's laziness and sloth and sickness and all sorts of dumb s*** they think is working on us it doesn't do anything but really they think it's Tommy f and having a time of it and it's an excuse to go to Egypt to try and look at the pyramid and we need them to and they're going out there ASAP and they say it and they ran out there so we really needed them to they're being a hassle here and doing nothing but hassling us and our son it's going on shortly it's TV shows bunch of movies and it is a huge issue as to why but people know why. And we believe it is the day where Luke Skywalker appears in the evening and it's very selling and depressed as he sees a death Star hovering over them and is afraid doesn't really know who's running it anything's talking is bad even Vader would be bad and Obi-Wan would be bad but he's got them there so he can figure it out a little and he goes turns and goes inside there's nothing else he can do and at the time we find out that Trump is not watching him and people are monitoring the place for movement to see if they leave and that's what he's doing no he's just obsessing and ruining people and we don't want him ruining our son he says he's part of it and knows s*** and we say you're informing us and you're the idiot tell you and you're the one out of line and it could be said that way and they will go after you for it and they do want to silence you so you can see all that s*** if you like yeah but that's not what happens when and his mouth and off and probably get hit for it then I'm actually saying yeah and they're getting ready to attack here and to all night it's one reason why it's leaving the other is he wants to see this. I'm trying to break the wall you think should be the wall

It's happening right now everybody this is going on right now and Star wars will begin as will the suicide squad. And while before that today is Jaws up in Massachusetts

Thor Freya

Outstanding ok

Hera

Just in time and we're making it seem like he's doing it alone and he's not he did do a lot of work though

Olympus

[mobiused]

in the latest vlive? i think? yeojin was saying how she wished her animal was a bear instead of a frog and it got me thinking about if she didn't have a frog prince themed debut and had a goldilocks thing instead. i feel like she's underutilized in the lore and the bear and rule of 3 thing with goldilocks in context w the subunits might be kinda juicy. what are your thoughts? on this or just yeojin in the lore in general? -🐯

Ahh they very nearly went with the bear...... BBC so mean to tease yeojin like that, especially since she isn't fond of frogs </3 (she only likes/tolerates them now because they're her animal)

A goldilocks thing would be so interesting though, i love that idea. Where would 'just right' be for her?

1/3 since she represents the slash? (and the moral is that even though it was 'just right', it still wasn't hers...)

odd eye circle because of the telekinetic powers alluded to in why not? (that we were told would be important later... *stares at PTT* ...LOL)

yyxy since her MV is set in hungary...? (<- do many people know about this?)

it's fun to think about - she fits wherever she's needed. ...which reminds me of this,

(even though her official shape is a rhombus)

[shizukateal]

The Holy Quintet: The BEST DRESSED Magical Girl Team EVER. Part 2: Characters made of symbols and shapes.

Part 1 here.

Mami Tomoe

Mami Tomoe’s outfit is a work of genius that really humbles me as an aspiring character designer. Watching the perfection in its simplicity only boggles my mind trying to reverse engineer the thought process behind it. Even if they already had decided on the huntress theme before they finished her, how did Ume Aoki came up with cutting the sleeves like that? Or with the perfect skirt shape that allows the corset to show all of her curves while puffing at just the right height to not make the hipline transition awkward and giving the shape of a flower? How long did it take her to find this particular color scheme? Did she immediately know where to put the purple to balance the outfit without feeling artificial? How did she realize that the stripes on the socks would add the ideal touch to the whole setup? Or the perfect way to turn the soulgem into a hair accessory? I would have gone the easy way and put it in the chest ribbon like the amateur I am! Did she have doubts about it while she was figuring out the exact design of the boots?!

This outfit does everything. It’s sexy without being unnecessarily tasteless, it’s girly and fancy but battle-ready, it even passes the silhouette test, it’s nuanced, almost realistic. Even Mami’s hairstyle, which in a lesser design would look too childish, is perfect for her. Mami’s whole theme is that she’s a little girl desperately trying to convince herself that she’s an adult. Her low drill-tails are doll-like, which is to say a little girl’s idea of what a fancy adult woman looks like. The side-swept bangs also give a youthful roundness to her face while being elegant, and the way the hat and hairpin complements the whole thing is just * cheff’s kiss *.

Kyouko Sakura

Kyouko is a fire gal, and as such her shape is a triangle, so her outfit is a halter top coat that widens into the frilled overskirt. Her ponytail also feeds into this theme, with hair bits sticking wildly on the top like the fire sparks of a candle, and the ribbon is just scrappy but cute enough to compliment her personality. Haha, ponytail, get it? Like a horse? Or in her case a de-horned unicorn, ergo her spear. Her look also gives us the impression of an outlaw with her pirate/rider boots, long coat and gloves, fitting her lifestyle, and her soulgem is on her chest, indicating her more emotional nature. I think the boldest decision was to leave her hands ungloved, or at least I know I wouldn’t have done that, but that’s why I’m glad I wasn’t in Ume Aoki’s position when Madoka was in production. The white details on her undershirt and boots also put an elegant touch of complexity that completes the whole thing. What I’m trying to say here is that Kyoko has the ““easiest”” design of the other puellas, but it’s still top notch.

Sayaka Miki

Sayaka’s outfit is a balancing act, trying to keep it’s knight aesthetic clear without relying on heavy armor to do so and thus allowing Sayaka’s more romantic, femenine side to show, not to mention her water + music/mermaid theme. Her whole getup is very ingenious. Her short hair allows the cape to flow without seeming excessive and heavy or an inconvenience, her hairpin prevents the cut from being bland, but still keeping a somewhat tomboyish look, and her skirt has a distinct asymmetrical cut that, with its white outline, gives the idea of a wave. Her boots are short, comfy, practical, and their shade is just different enough that they avoid the look from feeling kinda boring within its color pallet, without straying away from it. I’m honestly amazed at how well they pulled of her belly-button soulgem as well, especially without taking away from the knight theme, hell they even used that in their favor! That is ingenuity. It was also a genius idea to hold the cape on a choker to make it all fit better with a sweetheart neckline.

Homura Akemi

As I mentioned before when I talked about Senjougahara, Homura is a rhombus, not just in her soul gem but in the rest of her body: she is pointy, slim, and long. She is the tallest and lankiest amongst the Holy Quintet, her outfit primarily highlighting her legs and her hair ending in jagged points. What impresses me the most about it is that the shirt is very weirdly cut for a concept as straightforward as “school uniform”, but it works. I can imagine a much easier version of it without the undersleeves or the collar. Speaking of which, the shape of them draws attention to her soul gem on her hand, which is placed there to symbolize how she’s the most “hands on” magical girl. Her time motif is present in her back ribbon, which looks like clock hands, same with Moemura’s braids, and in her shield, which is small and attached to her wrist and also is actually a sand clock. That shield is a really neat, concise, and smart way to tie up the entirety of her wish, huh? Speaking of Moemura, it’s really interesting to see the conflict between the two versions of this character in their differences. First we have the hair, of course, then the red glasses. I sense that there’s more to those than what I’m interpreting here, but the best I can do is conclude that aside that Homura tosses them out because they represent her weakness the fact that they’re red means they also represent her emotionality, which Madoka returns to her when she gives her her red ribbons (which also represent the string of fate, of course, and also confidence in oneself). But the part that interests me the most is her heels. Moemura doesn’t fit them, she trips on them constantly, but for Homura they are a symbol of her maturity and composure. Naturally, the first time we see Homura break down after narrowly killing Kyubey before they could do a contract with Madoka, she trips on them.

@leafbladie also pointed out to me that the reason it looks like a school uniform might be because school is the only place where she could make genuine human connections. 

Madoka Kaname

Kyouko is a triangle, Homura is a rhombus, and Madoka is, fittingly, a Star, aka. a cluster of points shooting out from a center, which also blends well as a flower motif. Or to put it even more eloquently, she’s the flower from the ground that will eventually become the star in the sky. It’s in her skirt, gloves, socks and ponytails. And the rest of her? Is a deception in its simplicity. After all, this is what you expect from the leader of a magical girl team, right? Pink! Ribbons! Frills! Come on, you’ve seen this outfit before, it’s practically the same as Cure Peach’s! But Madoka is aiming for something more specific: she is both a fairy AND a witch, the two faces of the Magical Girl, creatures of fairytales often related to either nature or to the stars, and it works precisely because she uses that shape. Madoka is a balance of roundness and pointiness, it’s just that those points are softened by the pastel coloring. Her balance in ribbons and frills is excellent as well. I should probably write a separate post on how those 2 elements work in general, but suffice to say that we all know way too many magical girls that just put those things everywhere. Two on her ponytails to highlight them, one behind her neck, two on her hips to smooth the hipline transition, two behind her shoes. Huh, speaking of those, Madoka has surprisingly tall heels, right? Taller than Mami’s and only matched by Homura’s. Really tells you who the 2 most emotionally resilient members are in the team.

The last piece I’d like to highlight is her weapon, which I’m jealous of because I did that concept for an OC of mine and now if I do it everyone is going to think that I got it from her. But in any case, yeah combining a druidic staff into an also druidic bow whose arrows are also shooting star analogues is the perfect choice for this particular character, the Goddess of Magical Girls.

And this, everyone, has been my reasoning and analysis of the genius of the Holy Quintet’s character designs. Follow me if you want more magical girl outfit analysis.

[smile-files]

the cast of characters in my object show idea, “geometropolis”!

it’s basically a bunch of shapes battling for the ultimate prize: access to the third dimension! i don’t know if, how, or when i’ll actually make the show, but i really love the characters and ideas i have so far. speaking of which, character bios under the cut!

team 1: “group two” (all four of them are childhood friends)

circle - a happy-go-lucky guy who’s not only shaped like a friend, but also is a friend! he’s optimistic and supportive, but strongly dislikes fighting and change. 

square - rectangle’s twin brother; he’s very relaxed and calm, but has an incredibly strong sense of justice. doesn’t like socializing if he doesn’t need to.

triangle - a very opinionated gal; she speaks her mind and others tend to listen. she’s very spunky and very keen on getting what she wants.

rectangle - a timid fella who’s not only shaped like a doormat, but also is a doormat! rather close to triangle, which gives them a very odd dynamic.

team 2: “the cool kids” (star & heart knew each other before; heart invited the other two to join as well)

star - a popular lad who’s rather unaware of the consequences of his actions. isn’t close with anyone besides heart, and is rather clingy to him.

heart - the shy, unlikely friend of star. he’s very thoughtful and very emotional, and has issues with bottling up his feelings until it’s too much for him to contain.

rhombus - kite’s cousin; they might seem like an oddball, and probably is one, but they’re also very observant and extremely wise. possesses the limb remote.

droplet - a little kiddo who believes that everyone is a good person! she has a rather naive worldview, and will soon have to deal with the reality of life.

team 3: “yim yum” (kite and oval joined up, then rounded up the two who didn’t want to be there)

kite - a quiet and philosophical tall girl who spends much more time thinking than doing. has many qualms about the morality of the little stuff she actually does.

oval - a friendly and patient fella whom everyone likes hanging around, even if he isn’t ‘popular’ like star. is your involuntary therapist.

heptagon - doesn’t want to be here and doesn’t care; too smart for his own good and doesn’t bother putting effort into anything. people don’t like him.

parallelogram - a very passionate guy who fights for what he believes in; extremely soft-hearted and empathetic, despite his aggressive demeanor.

team 4: “helvetica.” (the people not on any other team)

trapezoid - think of “as your father i expressly forbid it” by lemon demon. is rather bossy but only out of the immense concern he has for the people he cares for.

pentagon - a little girl who can’t help but scamper up the walls and cling to the ceiling like a spider. needs adult supervision at all times.

hexagon - a ukulele-playing girl who can’t help but care for everyone (but herself, mind you); very happy on the surface, but is easily stressed.

octagon - a grump who wants everyone to listen to her; most people don’t take her seriously and say she’s just being mean. won’t admit she cares about you.

hosts:

mobius strip - the main host. has the ability to travel between the 2nd and 3rd dimensions, and thus has no need for the magical ‘3d access’ he possesses (hence the competition for it). doesn’t listen to anyone and is rather eccentric; nobody knows what his deal is.

twinkle - originally thought to not be sentient at all; a large shape who can do things such as carry others and act as a megaphone. does whatever mobius says, for the most part. has access to ‘the paradox’, the place where contestants go when eliminated.

[welllpthisishappening]

But Once a Year (4/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: Another 9K or so, but with feelings AN: I had every intention of posting this on actual Christmas, but there was a Doctor Who marathon on and, well—I got distracted by other time travel. Hopefully my timelines are more consistent than River Song’s. Sorry, River Song. Here’s a whole bunch of kissing and feeling feelings. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the start

————

“Were you ever actually going to paint?”

No eyebrow movement that time, although Killian’s actual eyes widen ever so slightly and that particular reaction is starting to do dangerous things to Emma's ego. He keeps his coffee mug hovering just above his lips, which she’s certain is a carefully calculated ploy to also keep her staring at his lips, but that’s not all that difficult and she’d spent at least seven full minutes kissing those same lips senseless that morning. 

In bed. 

The one they’ve slept in — for four days straight now, which is probably more time than it should be, but he was right. Falling asleep with his arm around her is far easier than the opposite, and he only occasionally complains about the frost-like tendencies of her feet. Mostly into the back of her neck. That’s just where his mouth ends up. 

So, everything is still going great. Not potentially problematic. Because neither Regina nor Tinker Bell have come up with a working time-travel theory, and Emma’s baking endeavors haven’t gone over all that well either, but she’s discovered Killian’s tendency for stealing batter, and that’s even more ridiculously endearing information that’s only sort of skewing with her sense of reality, and— “Is this you volunteering?”

Startling, Emma almost forgot she’d asked a question. His mouth does something else. Stupid, and distracting and he uses almond milk in his coffee. 

Claims it’s a modern convenience he’s more than willing to take advantage of. 

Great, great, excellent. Possibly falling towards something, in a free-fall sort of way, and Emma shakes her head. Brushes away dangerous thoughts and hard-drawn lines in the much more metaphorical sand, and she wonders if sand ever lingers in their entry way during the summer. 

They must go to the beach. 

Spend time on the Jolly Roger, and she hasn’t seen much of the ship, but she’s starting to think it’d be nice to pass an afternoon on the water, with the sun and the salt and— “Swan,” Killian says, obviously not the first time he’s tried to draw back her attention. Chair legs scrape across their kitchen floor when he stands, and Emma’s brain barely acknowledges that particular pronoun before he’s crowding her space and bumping his hips against hers and nothing like that has happened yet, because that’s not just a line, it’s an entire rhombus or some other geometric shape that’s more like a tangled mess and knotted feelings and she flinches. 

When his hook drifts under the hem of her shirt. 

Floral patterned, and far gauzier than anything Emma would even think about owning now. Or then, she supposes. Tenses continue to be their own specific type of issue, and she’s starting to like the clothes hanging in her questionably large closet. 

They’re soft. 

Which is probably not a commentary, or observation of whatever tense she’s willing to use, but it’s definitely different and possibly better and Killian chuckles in her ear as soon as her head falls to his collarbone. He kisses the top of her hair. 

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Scoffing into his shirt threatens to rumple the fabric, and she doesn’t really miss the billowy fabric of what’s now years past, but she also wonders if he kept them and where he docks the Jolly during the winter, and she can’t start giving pirate ships nicknames. Not now. Not yet. Not when she’s got to leave, and that only makes, like, half her muscles ache, so it’s probably not as bad as it could be. 

“They’re not worth that much,” Emma mumbles, the soft laugh she gets warming her from the inside out. A mix of magic and much more, and she’s back on the alliterative. As a defense mechanism or something. 

For her heart, maybe. 

“Luckily for you, I’ve got something of an eye for undiscovered treasure and—” “—Is this a line?” He laughs again, noses at her temple and the crown of her head and neither one of them mention how tightly Emma’s arms wrap around his middle. “If you can’t decipher when I’m flirting by now, we may have some issues.” “Some is a vast understatement.” “It’s going to be alright,” Killian promises, but it rings a little hollow and part of Emma knows. Still dark and distant, it doesn’t want to acknowledge everything it’s ignoring and a pointed voice echoes between her ears. With the same mantra. 

Magic is emotion. 

And Emma’s emotions are decidedly split. Just like Pan thought they’d be. Maybe she’s not just a coward; she’s selfish and greedy and inching dangerously close to a crying jag in the middle of the kitchen, but then Killian’s fingers drag across her spine and it’s a rhythm she can time her breathing to. 

“We’re running out of time.” “That’s not entirely true. Time travel’s apparently heavily involved, makes deadlines rather defunct, don’t you think?”

Emma scrunches her nose, but the voice is back and it’s sharper and a little angrier and stamping on several different parts of her brain if the growing pain is any indication. All magic comes with a price. “Talk to me about paint instead.” “Not much to talk about,” Killian says, but the caution in his voice makes it obvious they’re both all too aware of what they’re avoiding. Possibly even dreading. Emma is, at least. 

She’s going to strangle Peter Pan when she sees him. 

“But you haven’t done it.” “Some other things have been going on, you see.” “Don’t you want to paint?” “It’s not particularly high on my list of ways to occupy my time,” he admits, one side of his mouth tugging up. Flirting is getting easier. Some joke about practice, Emma is sure. “But, if it’s something you’re willing to help with, and it will get those thoughts of yours to settle for a few moments, then—” “—Who says my thoughts aren’t settled?” Tapping the all-too-noticeable furrow of Emma’s forehead, Killian’s eyes widen again. “Absolutely God awful at masking them, m’dear.” “Maybe that’s just a you thing.” “Aye, my mind-reading talents have been well-documented, but I suppose if we’re going to wait for Her Majesty to come up with yet another pointless—” “—Kinda harsh,” Emma mumbles. He kisses the furrow. Traces the lines of her brows, and hovers just on the edge of her eyes, grazing cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, until Emma's skin is buzzing and her magic threatens to pour out of her, and she’s only just able to contain whatever wave joke is pressing against her lips. Good, since those lips can be put to much better use against Killian’s. “Better plan, anyway,” he mumbles, working his arm back around her waist. So he can tug her up, and pull her closer to him and neither one of those things feel like the multitude of other problems Emma’s overactive brain is dealing with and they do eventually get out of the kitchen. 

Finish the coffee, and figure out where Hope’s favorite hat has disappeared to, because Emma’s rather quickly learned that this hat has legs that quite often move from its spot on the shelf into the hallway, and the overall width of Mary Margaret’s smile when she opens up the farm’s screen door isn’t as jarring as it would have been a week earlier. 

Getting back home takes longer than it probably should — ducking into the alley behind Granny’s for at last forty-two seconds of totally uninterrupted kissing, and Emma’s not entirely sure this is what being a newlywed is like, or was, she supposes, but it’s still pretty fantastic and she doesn’t want to name the sound that works its way out of her. 

Part giggle, a hint of overjoyed, and some sort of lingering fear because this isn’t quite real, but feels like the exact opposite, and they find old drop sheets in one of their half a dozen closets. Right next to the shirts she’d been wondering about before, and that’s probably not serendipity or fate or anything except Killian’s own sentimental tendencies, but she’s got to change her clothes anyway, and she doesn’t drown in the fabric like she worried she would. 

Likely not a metaphor, either. 

“Cheating,” Killian accuses, reaching for Emma anyway and moving the furniture isn’t the easiest thing in the world. Until Emma also remembers she’s got magic, and the ability to be very attracted to the guy who can’t seem to keep his hand off her, and she only has to blink once. 

For the furniture to move into the basement, at least for the time being. 

“Impressive, right?”

“Look who’s fishing for compliments now.” “C’mon, that was a shit ton of—” She doesn’t get the rest out, far too busy gasping and blinking and he’s swiped paint on her nose. “Are you kidding me?” Shrugging, he dances out of her reach before Emma can totally react and the paint’s already starting to dry. And crack. The signs are just getting obnoxious now. Makes much more sense to keep ignoring them. 

“No, no,” she argues, not bothering with the brush stuffed into the top of her leggings. Twisting her wrist, paint soars towards Emma’s fingertips, curling around her wrist and practically vibrating with the energy she’s flush with. 

Killian takes a step back. One more, another. A quick shake of his head makes the strands falling across his forehead shift again, and she’s not counting how often that happens, but she’s also paying fairly close attention to it and—“Revenge is never wise, love,” he advises, not able to keep the laugh out of his voice. 

“Pots and kettles, and all that, right?” “I’m completely reformed now. Ask anyone.” Humming, Emma advances on him. Magic ripples up her arms, power she’s never quite experienced before and it’s oddly intoxicating. Not in an overwhelming, potentially villainous sort of way. It’s far too warm for that. 

Villainy has to be cold, Emma’s sure. 

As it is, she’s not quite sweating, but she’s decidedly comfortable and all of her internal organs are functioning with an ease that belies their situation, or the problems it presents, and none of the paint ever touches her skin. Hovers in the air around it, wholly controlled and that’s not something Emma’s particularly familiar with. 

It’s nice. It’s—much more than nice, but she fell once while trying to do the long jump in that one Minnesota high school she spent a few months in when she was fifteen, and the prospect of something similar makes her wary of leaving the ground again. The line’s still there. Drawn with precision, and possibly permanent marker, and they can’t paint over that. 

Not yet, at least. Not entirely. 

“It does kind of match your eyes,” Emma says, hoping Killian doesn’t notice the shake in her voice. No such luck, she knows. Can see the flicker of concern in his gaze, but he’s able to push away. Not from the wall, and there’s something cyclical and symmetrical about this too, emotion almost visibly hanging between them. Another thing they haven’t talked about, and likely won’t have time for. 

Totally fine. Absolutely great. 

Falling for—

No, no falling. Standing and walking and Emma lifts her chin. Lets her magic twist its way up her spine, and flicker towards her bare feet, and Killian’s mouth twitches again. 

“Care more about the dress, really.” “What’d it look like? And where was Elsa’s—you said it was a wedding, right?”

“Her wife was here, you saw Mulan yesterday.” “No shit!” “Always with the perfect response,” Killian grins, “but yes. Met while Mulan was doing ambassador work for Aurora and Phillip, and love conquers all or so I’ve been told.” “Say it again without making it a joke.” Not shuddering under the force of his ensuing gaze is another victory Emma’s going to relish, even when she’s wherever she’s actually supposed to be, and she hopes she remembers this. In picture-perfect detail. “Conquers all,” Killian repeats, “as far I know.”

“Personally?” “Deeply so.”

Emma licks her lips. Killian stares. Tries not to, but she really is getting better at reading him and he doesn’t put up as much of a fight about information anymore. Seriously, everything’s so fine, the word barely holds any meaning now. But, like, in a positive way. “So, we went to Elsa’s wedding because—” “—You and she are rather good friends. Hope’s godmother, in fact.” “Oh. That’s—wow, that’s kind of nice.” “It is,” Killian agrees, not adding to it. He doesn’t have to. They both hear what they haven’t said — how few and far between friends are for Emma, and she briefly wonders if he knows about Lily or the kids who showed up, only to disappear just as quickly, and it would be second-nature to tell him. Part of her wants to now. 

Rehashing seems silly, though. 

“Anyway,” he adds, “Elsa and Mulan got married, and there was a dress that I will admit to thinking quite a lot about still, and it was blue. With these…” His eyes flutter closed. Magic roars in the very center of Emma. “Little bits of twisted fabric on top, looked like starbursts.” “Like the candy?” Gods, she an idiot. An entertaining one, if Killian’s smirk proves anything, though. So that’s something, at least. “Did we dance?” Nodding, his eyes keep darting back towards Emma’s hand and the paint that’s become some part of a questionably romantic thing, but she’s also starting to get the suspicion he’s using the wall to stay upright. Something thumps into it. 

Light bursts from the end of Emma’s hair. 

“Oh,” Killian groans through clenched teeth, and a jaw that can’t possibly be comfortable, “that’s hardly playing fair, sweetheart.”

Huh. 

The light grows. Flares, even — until it’s casting streaks across the floor and hovering just under Emma’s skin, because apparently she can glow now, and she almost feels like she’s floating. On endearments and sentiment and the air blowing through windows opened solely so they didn’t suffocate on paint fumes suddenly smells a little sweeter. 

“You’ve got your hook embedded in the wall,” Emma points out, none of those words all that even either. She doesn’t sound like herself, but she also didn’t know she was a person who reacted quite like that to one ten-letter word, yet here they. So, whatever really. 

Wider eyes and slightly parted lips meet her somehow still-lifted chin, and Killian’s nod barely warrants the description. Leaves his chest shifting, but Emma’s also admittedly staring at his chest because for as big as the shirt she’s wearing is, his is just as tight and touting a college she figures Henry thought about going to at some point, and she seizes her opportunity. 

Paint flies — literally. Soars across the barley-there space between Emma’s toes and Killian’s socks, and she genuinely cannot cope with how he only ever takes his socks off to sleep. He gasps when color splashes his cheeks and his shoulders, hangs from the ends of his hair, and threatens to find the edges of his lips. “Gotta close your mouth,” Emma advises lightly, getting the exact spark in his eyes that she was hoping for and she yelps all the same. When he ducks his head, nosing at her neck and the line of her collar. Which is technically his color, but she’s been using all those collective pronouns, that it can’t possibly matter at this point and she definitely giggles. While his fingers trace patterns across her stomach and the side of her waist, dragging lines of blue paint over skin and fabric and she’s not sure when they fall over, just that they’re a tangle of limbs and slightly ripped sheets and— “Do you think I could magic the paint on the walls?” Emma asks, flipping her paint-covered head to her side. Without opening his eyes, Killian mumbles an agreement, his fingers fluttering against hers until they lace between them and she’s only like seventy-four percent positive he does it on purpose. 

Concentrating on the twenty-six percent that absolutely knows it’s that same instinct and inherent habit from before, Emma twists her lower lip between her teeth. Feels the first brush of magic, and the small inferno that erupts between her ribs doesn’t actually set her on fire. So, more victories. 

And it only takes about twelve seconds. 

Give or take. 

Blue walls appear around them as if by—well, magic. Not a streak out of place, or mark on the baseboards and Emma’s only a little annoyed that they bothered to move any of the furniture. “Single most impressive thing I’ve ever seen,” Killian mutters. “Your eyes are still closed.” “Aye, but I know it’s happening.” Not letting go of her lip or his hand, Emma’s heart thunders in her chest as soon as she notices the question sitting on her tongue. “When did that start? Because—well, as far as I know you can’t tell in Neverland.” He doesn’t respond. Not immediately, anyway. And that’s only momentarily terrifying, before a slightly different and passably darker shade of blue meets her. “That’s not entirely true. It gets a little confusing, though.” “Don’t offend me like that.”

“I’m not saying you won’t understand,” Killian laughs, “just—the other time travel adventure? Well, that happens rather early in my timeline. And, uh...well, by that point you’re feeling some things and—” “—Kissing as a distraction,” Emma breathes, realization shaking her and this version of the puzzle is equally surprising and wonderful. 

“You’re an eavesdrop.” “Piracy excuse.”

He laughs again, kisses her cheek and pulls her closer to his side until nearly all of him is touching all of her and that’s another word much bigger than nice. “As far as I’ve been able to reason it, that sets off a chain of sorts. Magic exists in you, can be felt by me, I don’t entirely remember it—” “—You don’t entirely remember it?” “Making it difficult to tell the story.” Emma rolls her eyes. “Anyway, it’s always been this sort of—presence, I suppose. In the back of my mind, a reminder of something. Good and possible, and it makes it rather easy to tell when you’re agitated, actually.” “Seems like cheating.” “Piracy excuse,” he repeats, and Emma’s mind trips over itself. Falling across line and thoughts and leaving here might be one of the hardest things she’s ever done. Part of her wonders if she knows how, though. 

“You know about Neal. Everything that—” Her breath catches, out-of-place tears already threatening to fall, and that’s kind of lame. Killian’s cheek brushes Emma’s. While he nods. “For what it’s worth, your parents do feel bad about the naming legacy one they realize.” “He’s not here.” “No, that would be rather difficult for him. He’s—” “—Dead?” “Honorably,” Killian says, even through the hint of acid and Emma drapes her arm across his stomach. “And he does care about Henry, quite ardently. But...well, I don’t imagine I’ll ever entirely forgive him for everything he did, and it was difficult to rationalize the Bae I knew with he Neal who acted like that.” “Probably weird to be attracted to that, huh?” Chuckling, his lips press against her hair. “Whatever way you’re willing to be attracted to me, is something I wholeheartedly approve of.”

“I’ve got another question.” “Waiting with baited breath.” “You’ve got a ship still, right?” 

Tensing the way he does isn’t really the reaction Emma anticipates, although she should probably be ready for anything now, and Killian mumbles, “aye, I do.”

“Could we—I mean, I’m capable of teleporting, right?” “I’ve got no doubt. But it might be cold.” “Good thing you just radiate heat, huh?” His tongue pokes between his lips. Emma’s staring again. Has a hard time stopping, really. Which makes the magic return all the stronger and all the more suddenly, and Killian’s soft hitch of breath is oddly pleasing, even as the smell of salt replaces half-dried paint. 

Strictly speaking, Emma hadn’t spent much time exploring the Jolly Roger before they got to Neverland. Portal-based travel, and those mermaids and massive rain storms, all made it difficult to notice much else, and it takes her a moment to realize she’s blinked them into the captain’s cabin. 

“Efficient,” Killian observes, already perched on the edge of the room’s lone cot and the bedding looks crisp. Military-grade folds, and pillows that aren’t quite as fluffy as the ones in the house, but Emma’s already glancing at the shelves to her right. Books line them, in what is obviously alphabetical order, while the desk nearby is covered in instruments for navigation, and maps of several different realms, and she knows Killian’s watching her. 

Feels the force of his stare as it tries very hard to read her mind again, baited breath that’s not quite as much of a joke anymore. He's hoping. For the response, and the reaction, and she belatedly realizes what a big deal this is. 

Falling into the deep end of it all is really the only reasonable thing to do now. And appropriately water-based pun. 

“Give me another random fact,” Emma says, failing to keep the demand out of her voice. “Royal decrees are coming much easier for you now, Your Highness.” “Something good.” “I’d hardly give you a bad fact.” “Weird, I’m still waiting for one.”

Stabbing a finger into the space next to him, Emma’s leg bumps Killian’s when she sits down and she’d been right about the body heat. All of the blankets stay exactly where they are. “We go to Boston one weekend, relatively soon after we get married. To—” He clicks his tongue, as if he’s deciding what details to include. “Get some stuff out of your apartment. That’s not the important part. But we bring Henry with us, and drive out there. Spend a few days, and go to all of the tourist spots you say we should avoid, but Hope learned that eye trick from Henry, and it works all the time. So we go to Quincy Market, and that one brewery. Tour guide makes some history jokes, which in turn make you roll your eyes, but we get free samples, and Henry tries very hard to steal one of his own.” “Doesn’t work?” Killian shakes his head. “Not as such, no. I’m rather good at observing, you see.” “All those nights as lookout?” “Something like that,” he agrees, “It’s the first time in a very long time that we don’t have any looming threats. Nothing to worry about, no villains to contend with. We sit and walk and eat, and then eat some more, and it’s not the first time I let myself believe this is real, but it might bet the first time that reality seems to linger.” She’s holding her breath. Lungs burn in Emma’s chest, letting go of a shuddering exhale that also comes with tear-filled eyes, and Killian’s fingers hover near her neck. With the chain around it, and Emma knows it’s important — that ring that hangs just behind her stolen shirt, but she doesn’t ask and she wants to live it, anyway. 

Wants those moments to come of their own accord, at their own pace, until they linger as well. Settle into her and take root, building a foundation for everything else. 

“Can I do something?” she whispers, another imperceptible nod and he doesn’t object. When she unbuckles the leather at his brace, trying very hard to keep her pulse steady and her magic relatively quiet, but neither one of those things work very well and it doesn’t take very long. 

Snaps and pieces of metal give way under Emma’s touch, eventually pulling away from his skin and the scars aren’t worse closer up. Just more obvious, maybe. 

It’s another stupid sign. 

Following the lines with her fingers, Killian’s not much more than a statue. With exceptionally wide eyes and slightly erratic breathing, watching her like he’s bracing himself for impact or the inevitably of her disappearing. Emma sits. Presses her feet into the floor, and there’s no dust on the floor. She has to swallow more than once while she accounts for every mark on him, though — emotion clogging up her throat and her thoughts in equal measure, and it’s not really instinct to bend her neck and kiss the first spot she can reach, but it’s absolutely want and she wants far more than she’s supposed to have. 

Right now, at least. 

“Emma,” Killian exhales, without the regret it should hold, and honestly the goddamn symmetry is as good as it is awful. She smiles. Against his skin. 

“You said, ‘until I met you.’ Did you mean it?”

Glancing up without moving is another hint of cowardice, but Emma’s neck isn’t all that interested in participating in the conversation anymore and it’s easier to notice the state of Killian’s jaw like this. “More than I realized, actually.” “Yeah, me too probably. If I had said—well, I’m the worst liar in the world, y’know?” “At least several different realms.”

Scoffing, Emma’s teeth graze the blunt edge of his wrist and that only gets her a noise she’s never heard before and it’s better than all the other noises, and she loses her shirt eventually. Nothing else happens. 

Still can’t, still won’t. They’re both all too aware of the inability of this to linger, but want’s a funny sort of thing and contentment’s just as strange as ever. Falling asleep with her cheek pressed to his bare chest makes sense, though, the steady rock of the ship lulling Emma until her eyes close and her thoughts silence. 

“So, you’re not even trying anymore, huh?” Emma sighs. “Here I thought we’d get through the afternoon without any pointed opinions.” “Well, that was just foolish of you,” Regina shrugs, sitting on the front steps of the farm with her legs stretched out in front of her and that’s almost strange. She’s wearing jeans. No one else is surprised by that. And Mary Margaret is leaning against the door frame behind her. 

One arm wrapped around her middle, she doesn’t cross her feet at the ankles like Killian would, and that’s probably for the best. Emma’s brain can only cope with so much at one time, and she might not be trying anymore. 

Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. 

“You think the wisdom is our problem?” Mary Margaret asks, barely blinking at the sound that erupts from Regina. Snarl and sneer, and Emma rocks back on her heels. Like that will put some distance between her and the queen, who doesn’t appear all that evil anymore, but could be even more determined than ever and they’re still waiting for that goddamn bird to come back. 

No one’s mentioned the knights in the forest, either. 

Emma’s not sure they’re still there. 

“Can’t steal intelligence from the dead,” Regina reasons, and Emma’s shiver doesn’t have anything to do with the cold. It smells like cookies, even outside. “Should that make sense to me?” she asks. Mary Margaret shakes her head. 

“Not at all. Just—when Zelena did this...she had a bunch of ingredients.” “She has no idea who Zelena is,” Regina mutters, shrugging at Emma’s slack jawed expression. “Don’t bother telling me you’re standing right there, you’re very predictable and I am painfully aware of your continued presence.” 

“Was anyone actually going to tell me who Zelena is?” Emma snaps, a better reaction than the magic she’d like to use. On Regina, and her judgmental face. Tinker Bell went to help in Wonderland. Where magic is failing, more than it was a week earlier. 

“The Wicked Witch of the West," Mary Margaret replies. “Was bad, had strong magic, gave up her magic, got it—no, she never got it back, did she?” Regina makes a contrary noise. 

“How can you possibly keep track of all of this?” 

Mary Margaret’s smile isn’t entirely effective, but there’s still a bit of the friend Emma occasionally worries she’s lost and of all the things breaking the curse did, that’s probably one of her bigger issues. There just hasn’t been time to deal with it. “Living it helps,” she laughs, “but she was holding Rumplestilskin hostage when she built the spell, and that’s—” “—Wait, wait, Gold is dead?” “That’s a little harder to explain, actually.”

“Huh.”

She should be upset. She should mourn...maybe not the jackass who consistently ruined everything, but at least the idea of the person he could have been, or the help he occasionally offered, but Emma’s feeling a little vengeful, and is even more annoyed. By like—the entire state of the world, right now. 

She’s definitely not trying. Magic is emotion, and all of hers are far too scrambled to be effective as part of a time travel spell a witch who—“Was she actually green?” Emma asks, before she can stop herself and Mary Margaret’s smile works better that time. 

“Occasionally,” Regina drawls. “But as your mother pointed out, she’s also lacking any magic now, and with Robyn in the Wish Realm—” “—That can’t possibly be a real place. And who is Robyn, exactly?”

“You met her. She brought you to—” “—That was a witch’s daughter? You realize that none of the ages for any of these kids makes sense? She was an actual adult.” “Don’t think about it too hard,” Mary Margaret advises, “will only make your head hurt.” “That ship sailed, like, two weeks ago,” Emma admits, refusing to look at whatever face Regina is making while also growling softly. Fire dances between her fingers. “Keep interrupting like this,” she warns, “and I will put you under a sleeping curse.” Jaw dropping and air rushing out of her in a wholly undignified huff, Emma’s reactions are so loud that she hardly notices Mary Margaret’s quiet “that might not be all that bad.” But then it clicks and there’s another puzzle, and more words she should not be thinking about right now, and Regina’s eyes thin enough that it’s difficult to notice any color in them. 

“Huh,” she says, echoing Emma and that’s not very comforting, actually. “Well, that’s fascinating isn’t it?  Plus, we don’t have any innocence.” Mary Margaret’s shoulders drop. “Oh, yeah that might be right.” Emma’s mouth is already hanging open, and her jaw physically cannot separate, so she can’t quite react like she wants to. Magic rattles around her all the same, Regina’s eyebrows doing a fairly good job of masquerading as someone else’s because— “Back to the drawing board, it seems,” she says, all but jumping back to her feet and glancing at Mary Margaret on her way back into the house. 

Moving is something of an impossibility for Emma, torn between embarrassment and objections and the second one isn’t entirely possible either, but her mother only looks passably amused and that’s not the right emotion for this situation at all. 

“Sleeping curse could force us into all kinds of realizations,” she reasons. 

“That’s fucked up, Mom.”

More titles. More feelings. Not enough time to deal with any of them. 

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret agrees, “it kind of is. How much batter do you think the rest of your family has stolen?” “At least an entire cookie sheet’s worth.” “Sounds about right, let’s see if we can cop any of our own.”

“Where is everyone going to sleep?” Emma asks, sitting at a dining room table that’s nearly buckling under the weight of food covering it. “And where did they even get all this stuff from?” Fingers drift over her bent knee under the table, Emma’s hands preoccupied with doling out food and Hope’s a very big fan of mashed potatoes. As she should be, really. Less so by the small feast of vegetables her mother has provided, but certainly not cooked because Emma’s spent most of the afternoon with her mother and Regina, trying to figure out if they could replicate Zelena’s time travel spell, and it didn’t work. Like, at all. 

Lack of innocence likely isn’t their biggest problem. “Not everyone stays here,” Killian explains, “although I doubt your mother would mind all that much if they did.”

“Doesn’t explain where they’re going to sleep.” “Are you concerned about privacy, love?” “Pirate,” she accuses, but it lacks any actual vitriol and someone whistles when Killian’s lips brush hers. “I just don’t want to sleep in the hallway, if there’s no more room at the inn.” “Very confident in your own brand of religion-based humor aren’t you?” “Oh, color me impressed with your knowledge.” “Not many of your jokes evolve much over time, that’s why. And I think you’ve proven your ability to relocate us fairly well, don’t you?” Twisting her lips only gets her a flash of amusement and eyebrows that move so quick, there should also be smoke involved. “As far as I know, Her Royal Highness Snow White has concocted a rather extensive and possibly color-coordinated sleeping arrangement, that ensures no one will be forced to sleep in the hallway, while also allowing for maximum comfort and the ability to ransack parents as early as possible tomorrow morning.”

Something drops into the bottom of her stomach. It’s dread. And fear, and what Emma knows is that growing selfish streak and if her hand finds Hope’s back, then that’s neither here nor there.

Plus, Killian can totally tell. 

The overall volume of her magic helps too.

“Mary Margaret’s pretty in her element, huh?” Nodding, he ignores the brussels sprouts in favor of the broccoli casserole, and she’s resolutely not attracted to that. No sane person could be attracted to side dish choices. On Christmas Eve. 

It’s Christmas Eve. 

“She is, indeed,” Killian agrees, “which is why outsourcing made quite a bit of sense.” Emma’s eyes dart towards Granny, and no one’s introduced her to Ruby’s girlfriend yet, but Ruby also hasn’t announced that she quite obviously knows something about this family gathering is off, and that’s nice enough that pushing the issue seems like another asshole move. 

No one can be an asshole on Christmas Eve. 

Emma assumes, at least. Hopes a bit too, just for good measure. “Granny made all of this?”

“Eh, certainly tried. Coerced Ruby and Dorothy—” “—No,” she hisses, drawing a few curious glances and half of Hope’s plate is covered in mashed potatoes. Killian’s fingers tighten. 

“Someone told you about Zelena, didn’t they?” “I met her daughter without realizing, I guess.” Making a sound of understanding, Emma doesn’t miss the length of Killian’s drink. From the wine glass next to his own mostly-filled plate. “Is that another reason they went to that Wish Realm? So she didn’t have to talk to Dorothy Gale?” “I’m sure it was a consideration.” “Keeping track of all these things is a full-time job. Ok, so—Henry’s staying here though, isn’t he?” More noise, another sip of alcohol that Emma’s strangely jealous of. Nearly knocking her own glass over, her drink is closer to a gulp her dad absolutely notices, and whatever this is, it’s not any wine she’s familiar with. 

“Camelot vineyards are enchanted,” David says, answering another question Emma hasn’t actually asked. Ruby’s eyes noticeably flicker towards Henry. 

Who is not very subtle. 

“Something about the soil, right?” Regina asks, although it certainly sounds like she’s perfectly aware of the reason, and Emma’s less sure as to why her mouth immediately dries. Possibly because Killian’s fingers have gone vice-like. 

Glancing at him isn’t very subtle either, but she couldn’t care less and curiosity’s always been a bit of a thing for her. He probably knows that, anyway. “Camelot wasn’t my favorite place,” he explains, like that’s a reasonable string of words, but this isn’t the time for that and the knights are gone. Disappeared entirely, it seems. 

“No Arthur, huh?” Silence descends on the table, silverware clanking on plates and chairs scuffing when they’re pushed away from the table. Emma widens her eyes. 

Challenging that no asshole on Christmas Eve policy. 

“He was kind of a shitty king,” Henry shrugs, Regina glaring in that same maternal sort of way that immediately makes him look far more like a teenager than a grown man with a kid. Emma can’t figure out the timeline of Lucy at all, either. 

“Redeemed himself a bit in the end,” Killian adds. “Had no trouble from that particular area.” There should be more to that sentence. Emma knows, can hear it in the clipped way his voice cuts off and his tongue swipes the front of his teeth, and—“Whatever happened to that girl Henry knew in court?” Ruby asks, and they all lack subtlety it seems. 

Emma tilts her head. “Henry knew a girl in the court of Camelot?” “Very complex story,” he mumbles, dots of pink on his cheek and Ella laughing at his side. 

“Should I be upset I didn’t know about this?” “He used music to woo her,” Mary Margaret adds, some of the tension hovering over them evaporating. Killian’s fingers don’t move. “Although I never entirely understood how the iPod managed to stay charged.” “Magic,” Henry reasons. “And Violet went back to Connecticut, with her dad.”

Groaning, Emma’s reaction to this wine is even stronger than anything she drank in the diner or the buttered rum, and Henry’s face might stay red for the rest of the night. Festive, at least. “A guy from Connecticut?” she asks. “In Camelot?” “Didn’t click for me at first, if that makes you feel better.” “He was too busy flirting, that’s why,” Killian adds. 

Henry scowls. “Reminiscing about any of this is not nearly as fun as you guys think it is. Plus,” he slings an arm around Ella’s shoulders, kissing her temple for good measure, “it all worked out in the end, so—” “—So,” Ruby echoes, “did we decide on snowmen rules, or…”

Voices all but explode around them — shouting over one another, in what is another questionably competitive Christmas tradition, and there are apparently judges involved and boxes of decorations that Mary Margaret keeps stored in the basement. Which Emma assumes is a much better use for the space than hoarding weapons, but any thought about her house quickly gets lost in how delicious this food is and how Henry’s arm rarely leaves Ella, and at some point Hope clamors onto Killian’s lap before Lucy starts demanding snowmen and they’ve all turn into giant pushovers, it seems. 

“The theme,” Granny announces from her spot on the porch, because she’s head judge, and that holds more weight than anyone else, “is whimsy. Delight me, or you’ll lose points.” “What does that even mean?” Ruby challenges. She’s already rolling snow together, Dorothy’s head barely visible while she digs through one of Mary Margaret’s boxes and produces a pair of plastic fairy wings.

“Why do you own these?” she demands. 

It’s difficult to tell if the color on Mary Margaret’s cheeks is a blush, or simply a product of how cold it already is, but none of that matters as much as the inches Henry has on her and how easy it is for his arm to find her shoulders as well. “Like to be prepared for any potential theme, isn’t that right, Gram?” “Not too old for any of the parental figures around here to ground you, you know,” Mary Margaret threatens. As much as she’s able. 

David throws a snowball at both of them. “Build your snowman, kid. You’re going to lose, and it will be something else we can reminisce about for holidays to come.”

“C’mon, love,” Killian says, directing Emma to their own patch of snow and overflowing box and Hope’s already discovered the plastic tub of glitter that’s inexplicably in there. “We’ve got a reputation to uphold.” “Do we win this a lot?” “Don't insult me like that.”

He kisses her to ensure she doesn’t. Emma doesn’t argue that. 

And as promised, Regina magics everyone’s snow creations to ensure they won’t melt for “at least a month, maybe longer” and the dread in Emma’s stomach threatens to rise up her throat. Until there’s a hand tugging at the side of her jacket, and—

“Can you get him to smile, Mama?” Hope asks, what looks like a slightly lopsided snowman’s bottom behind her and Emma might be the biggest pushover of them all. 

Waving her hand is easy, though. And magic’s getting closer to second nature than she’d like to admit, positioning shiny rocks that Mary Margaret inexplicably had into what actually looks like a smile onto another freshly-made mound of snow. 

Hope is overjoyed. 

Emma tries very hard not to cry. 

And fails spectacularly. 

Monopoly is an adults-only game. This takes Emma at least forty-two seconds to come to terms with, but then there’s more wine and it’s a miracle they don’t wake up any of the kids, and Killian really does cheat. 

She just can’t figure out how. 

Bills appear in front of him like he’s the one with magic in this relationship, and Emma’s definitely drunk enough not to care about her word choice. She’s admittedly far more concerned with the houses that keep cropping up on Killian’s properties and how close some of those properties are to forming multiple Monopolys and he grins at her. From across the board. 

David made it very clear that couples weren’t allowed to sit next to each other. 

For fear of collusion, or something — although Emma can’t imagine there are actually many alliances formed in this game, particularly after the snowmen and the judging and it took Lucy nearly an hour to come down from the understandable high of her win. Hope was more interested in getting glitter everywhere than properly constructing a snowman. 

“What was that about revenge?” Emma asks archly, more than a few other alcohol-saturated adults groaning at what is blatantly even more obvious flirting. And he hadn’t been lying about the state of her parent’s tree. 

More candles line the branches, not a fire hazard when the flames have been enchanted and that’s for the best because there’s just—a copious amount of tinsel on those same branches, and a few ornaments that are obviously hand-made by kids and grandkids and it’s nice to know that even descendants of fairy tale characters use popsicle sticks in their arts and crafts. 

Mary Margaret probably has a box of those too. 

“This has nothing to do with the snowmen,” Killian promises, quirking his lips when Ruby lands on Marvin Gardens. He owns Marvin Gardens. “Look at that.” “Are you playing with weighted dice, pirate?” Ruby cries. “Because that is—” “—Cheating,” David finishes. 

Killian shrugs. His eyes don’t leave Emma. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. You owe me twenty-four dollars, Lady Lucas.”

She throws the bills at him. 

“How would I even use the weighted dice I don’t own anymore—” “—Anymore,” Henry repeats, and he’s only got a few bills left in front of him. Killian ignores him. Emma is far too charmed by this. 

She got a Monopoly on the green properties, though. And she didn’t cheat to get them, so she’s also in possession of the moral high ground. Gives her free room to be entirely charmed by her husband. Kind of. “To calculate what you’ll land on,” Killian finishes. “That doesn’t even make sense. 

Shaking her head, Ruby’s hair nearly flies into her face, threatening the state of the board and several other player’s pieces. All of whom are very loudly offended by that. “I hate you,” she sneers, and she doesn’t get back to Go before she goes bankrupt. 

In the end, the moral high ground doesn’t help Emma’s ability to turn profits when Killian gets the Monopoly on that yellow corner and immediately starts building hotels and she nearly snarls when she lands on Atlantic Avenue. 

“I think I might have won, Swan.” “Shut up.” “You don’t have to actually give me all your money, I’m more than pleased to simply hear the words from you.” “Shut up,” Emma says, and her mom fell asleep at least an hour earlier. David rolls his eyes. When she leans across the board, knocking over pieces and hotels, and Killian built so many goddamn hotels. He’s smiling when she kisses him. 

Nothing overly magical happens, but Emma swears one of the candles flickers in the corner of her eye. 

They do get a room. Directly next to the one Hope and Lucy are sharing, but Emma’s finding it harder than she expected to walk away from the tree and she never had a Christmas tree when she was a kid. Lights start to blur the longer she stares at it, floorboards creaking in an unnecessary announcement of the hand that finds her and— “I put an ornament on, you know,” Killian says, staring ahead when Emma turns towards him. “Was worried you’d notice, but I’m actually rather good at—” “—Sneaking?” “Covert movements.”

Scoffing out a laugh, her head falls to his shoulder. With the magnets and the feelings, magic fighting against dread and a slew of other feelings that are now as twisted as any family tree they could create. “Is it wrong to ask you what you wished for? Or should we talk about why you hate Camelot?” “They go together, actually.” “Do they just?” He kisses her hair. More than once, like he’s grounding himself or reminding himself of something that may not happen if they don’t somehow fix all of this, and Emma’s tongue is doing that thing again. Taking up way too much space in her mouth. 

She’s not sure what she’d say, anyway. 

“Dying makes it rather easy to shuffle a man’s priorities, and—” “—You die?” Emma shouts, but Killian’s shoulder only bumps her cheek and half the candles flicker. “How is that—God, that’s…” More kisses. A few hand squeezes. Her knees shake all the same. 

“Doesn’t stick any of the times.” “It happens more than once.”

His cheek shifts her hair when he nods, a picture of only passably believable calm, and that wasn’t a question. “Something of a stubborn lass, though. So you don’t accept it very often, and occasionally that doesn’t work very well, but—” Tears fall down Emma’s cheeks, hot in the way a brand is, or she figures it would be, and she swallows as his thumb brushes over her skin. “You save me. Several times over.”

“Does calling me lass ever end well for you?” “Not as such, no.” Sticking her lower lip out is definitely a misplaced attempt to regain control of the situation because Emma’s all too aware of just how quickly Killian’s gaze will drop, and she’s not disappointed. A little nervous, but she figures that’s to be expected and her voice only kind of shakes when she whispers, “That’s not just a you thing, you know that, right?” “A me thing, what?” “The saving. Being stubborn too, I guess, or holding onto this with both hands, and this is an us thing. I’m...well, maybe I’m not totally there yet, but—” Her lips are chapped. Cracking with more emotion than she’s entirely sure she’s capable of, and Emma swallows once. Her tongue doesn’t do anything else. “Is that what you wished for? The saving?” “Awfully selfish, I know, but I—I think I need that.” “No, it’s not,” she objects. “Might be sweepingly romantic, even.” Eyes trace over her face, like he’s memorizing all of it, all over again, and innocence was a long gone ideal when they made out in the jungle, but this feels entirely different and somehow more important and Emma has to push up on her toes. To press her lips to his, and make sure his arm pulls her flush against his chest, and there’s no music or rainbow, but that might have something to do with her greed and her want and neither one of them pull away. 

While a clock chimes down the hall. 

“Merry Christmas, love.” She closes her eyes. “Merry Christmas, Killian.”

Something taps at their window. Incessantly, until it’s obvious Emma’s not dreaming the sound, and it takes her a few blinks and one grumbling, half-asleep pirate to realize it’s a bird. Without a sense of direction, it seems. 

“Oh shit,” Emma breathes, pulling the blankets over her shoulders like that will keep them here and the bird outside and that’s an exercise in futility that lasts less than a full minute. Once the bird realizes he’s at the wrong room. 

She counts. Seconds and breaths, trying not to give into the whimper that’s pressed behind her lips, and Killian’s fingers find hers. The floor creaks. Doors swing open, and David’s voice calls for them and Regina, and there are more squeaking hinges and calls to action because—

Mary Margaret knocks before she comes inside, already dressed with a full quiver of arrows strapped to her back. “Camelot’s gone,” she says, which may actually be the last thing Emma expects to hear at whatever time it is. Late, if the lack of sun is any sign. “Disappeared in a wave of...nothing.” “How can a wave be nothing?” Emma asks. “That—” “—It’s the opposite of magic,” Regina finishes, curled around the door with her hair twisted and there’s no fire in her palm. It’s in her eyes, instead. The end of reality turns Emma into something of a poet, apparently. “Get ready, we’ve got to head this off before it gets to the town and,” her gaze drifts towards Killian and his hand and his hook his on the bedside table, “might want to get your sword out of storage, Captain.”

Nodding silently, Killian doesn’t show any other signs of acknowledging his marching orders, but then he’s looking at Emma, a mix of expectant disappointment and unhinged longing and she blinks. Twice. They’re dressed. 

And his sword hangs from his hip. 

“You alright?” he rasps, which seems like more cheating and entirely unfair and Emma nods too. 

“Let’s fix this.”

[kehideni]

She had a hard day. She doesn't know what life is like elsewhere, but here in Azarath she was exhausted.

Exhausted physically, exhausted mentally, spiritually, if there was one word for her day it was 'exhausting'. As welcome as the rest that she earned was, she never liked to sleep. Her father had always sent her nightmares, or as Arella refered to them 'visions of the future'. It might be her young age that made her unbelieving or maybe rebellious but she never believed those nightmares would come to true. After all, if she has any say in the matter she will not aid her all mighty father to end the world.

She laid down her head on her bed with one single wish:

"If only i could dream of my actual future. Just once..." and with that she drifted off to sleep.

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

There was nothing but darkness. She didn't know why she was so sure about it, but this darkness was welcoming, it was quiet. Peaceful.

In the distance there was this white spot, the longer she stared at it the bigger it grew and it brought with itself noise. Noise she could not identify, this blinding white overtook the dark and the noise grew with it. Raven could not think, could not see, could not concentrate. This white... deity seemed to target her and she could do nothing but suffer. She'd screamed but the white noise drowned it out.

Her eyes were tearing up when she finally saw a dark figure jump down in front of her. It's silouette reminded her of a bird. Upon closer look she realised the silouette was actually of a boy!

The shade he provided was a relief and the noise seemed to dampen. The boy raised his arms and the comfortable darkness returned, except this time with an interestingly warm, red hue.

"Why did you save me?" Raven asked. She could tell the boy was still there eventhough she could not see him, and strangely enough she wasn't scared. She could not tell you why, but she was sure that this boy did not mean danger for her.

"You are like me, you seek the comfort of the dark. The quiet, the peace... the time when you can just 'be'. I saved you, because in saving you i also saved myself."

She felt his presence leave once he answered her question and eventhough he was not really clear in his explanation Raven understood that ultimately what he meant is that they are one and the same.

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

This perfect peace became gray as angled shapes formed. Each little square, triangle, parallelogram, rhombus or trapezium formed little circles in them. Each one seemed to calculate and as is the circles were eyes they looked all ways, but once one shape's 'eye' landed on Raven they all stopped one by one to stare at her.

These shapes did not emote yet Raven felt like they were outraged with her presence. They shouldn't be able to move, they were a big wall yet they seemed to be creeping closer. There was no indication of their intention but Raven just knew... they want to assimilate her into themselves. This entity's simple goal was to make anything and everything into a simplistic shape, void of all individuality and to fit her right among them: classified as something, booked, squared away.

Among all these grey shapes suddenly a streak of blue appeared. This streak of blue did not follow any rule, it snaked around until it could leap forward- right in front of Raven- where it took form. The form of a young athletic boy. He did nothing more than just reach his arm out and flick his finger, pushing the entity to fall down just as a weak wall made of paper would.

"Why did you save me?" Raven asked similarly as she asked the bird. The boy did not have facial expressions he was just a blue shape of a boy, but she could tell he was smiling.

"You are like me. You will do anything to keep your individuality. In saving you i save myself."

Raven wanted to smile but even here Azar's strict training reached her.

The blue, boyish figure expanded till it filled the space Raven was in, the color reminded her of the bright blue sky.

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

But the bright, cheerful sky darkened once more.

A dry, bone-reaching cold settled around her that she felt was going deeper. As if it was trying to reach her very heart.

From the distance a shooting star seemed to fall. Raven tried to reach her hand out for the shooting star in hopes of help, but she feared the moment she takes it off her chest the bitter cold would settle in her and would never leave.

Miraculously it's as if it heard her unspoken plea, the shooting star flew right towards her. The closer it got the clearer it became that it was not a shooting star but a warm golden light. Wherever it flew it dispelled the cold. The golden light flew right through Raven and it warmed her heart. The light came around and appeared in the silouette of a beautiful tall girl.

"Why did you save me?" Raven asked awestruck.

The golden girl chuckled.

"I think you know. Why don't you ask me something else?"

It took Raven some thinking, but before long she was overcome with questions. Who are you? What are you? ...

"How did you know i needed help?"

The golden girl although only a silouette obviously had gotten... mournfull.

"Because we are the same. Sometimes you can cry as loud as you want but nobody will hear you, but other times one needs the most help when they can not utter a word."

Raven understood that all too well, and the silouette expanded, filling the world with sympathetic warmth.

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

All that warmth, like the sun itself had laid a gentle kiss on the world, and it too turned into something else.

At first it seemed to become an incomprohensible, great monster, but the longer Raven stared at it the more arms and heads appeared and all at once they roared not like any animal she heard, more like a thousand different souls yelling at once. Each crying different cusses, swears, curses. The great unified crowd emitted unbearable heat unlike the kind warmth the golden girl brought. The entity turned to Raven not wasting any time to charge at her, cursing her out, calling her names, calling for her head.

From behind Raven leaped a green silouette. Just like the crowd entity this green silouette also started out incomprehensible, except this silouette appeared to grow claws and fangs and tails. Each hand that reached for Raven was met with clawed ones, each head that cried for Raven's demise was tuned out with a bestial roar that commanded respect for her life.

The entity was fearsome, for a short period of time Raven feared this entity more than her father, but the green silouette was safety, it gave her hope that she would not be ripped to pieces by this entity.

Raven felt that this green silouette is special but in what way she did not understood.

The tails of the green silouette separated each head from the other and each head took two arms, the entity became several separate people, all with a mixture of fear and confusion clear on their faces.

The people slowly walked away and the green silouette from a beast reduced down to a boy.

Raven felt tears in the corner of her eyes, she just didn't know what to say.

The green silouette of a boy wiped the tears from her eyes, Raven felt like the green silouette must be smiling.

"It's time to wake up."

"What?" Raven whispered dejectedly.

"We will all meet."

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

Raven woke up with energy she never had before, but for the life of her she can't remember what she was just dreaming about.

Only thing she knows is that it was a good dream for once.

[kayr0ss]

Perfect, or Not

[LWA, Diakko, cooking, trying new things, Diana needs a break from all the expectations, cute fluff!, domestic cute girlfriends, STAY AT HOME]

Diana and Akko navigate perceptions, vulnerability and... a cooking activity?

---

Diana once told her that what made her different from everyone else at Luna Nova was that Akko never thought she was perfect.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Akko had asked, caught off guard by the admission.

“A good thing.”

She didn’t fully understand it back then—she was much, much younger—but as the years flew by and led to their eventual romantic involvement, Akko began to get it. When it came to Diana, it seemed as though the whole world had one form of expectation from her or another: model student, soon-to-be heir of magic aristocracy, and later on a well-respected front-runner in the educational career she had chosen.

This was mostly due to the fact that Diana Cavendish rarely made mistakes. Seriously. Ever. Her reputation was held in such regard that even as a student, the instructors at Luna Nova made exceptions based on her opinions (which may have infuriated a younger Akko who had no idea they would end up dating). But even back then, she could see it bearing down on Diana’s shoulders like rocks piling up; and how hard it was becoming for the young Cavendish to keep it balanced lest it all come falling down.

Within their first year of dating, the brunette came to a realization: Diana never failed because she never did anything she might not be good at. She figured it out during a fishing trip of all times! Diana had tucked herself behind a book and under the shade of her wide-brimmed (and very stylish) hat while Akko wrestled with what felt the Master of the Swamp of that darned lake.

“We went all the way out here to fish! Won’t you even try?”

“You seem to have it covered. Fishing isn’t exactly within my area of expertise.”

“And so?”

Diana looked up at her and blinked in confusion, as though the concept of doing anything just for the heck of it was completely foreign to her. “I… well.”

They had to cast the rod seven times before Diana even got so much as a nibble, but fishes be damned—Akko didn’t give up on her that afternoon.

Biking was another activity which Diana had obstinately refused to even consider doing, she fondly recalled. Now this sucked for Akko—it really did—because biking around a park dusted with autumn leaves was kind of on her ‘couple bucket list’, except the other half of said couple didn’t even want to get on the bike.

“We have brooms. This is completely unnecessary.”

“It doesn’t have to be necessary,” Akko took her hand and practically dragged her towards the bicycle. “Don’t you remember what it was like for me to learn flying? Come on, try it for me!”

She’d never forget the how visibly difficult it was for Diana to say this, and that it hurt her to see how the blonde seemed to be expecting some form of judgment. “I… don’t know how.”

Akko laced their fingers together and made sure Diana was looking into her eyes when she said,

“That’s okay.”

Diana seemed surprised.

“I’ll teach you?”

--

This year, Akko’s birthday fell on a lovely, overcast Saturday. There were no dinners or parties to be held on account of a recent outbreak, which left her in the company of Diana with whom she now shared an apartment. It was more than enough.

What she wasn’t expecting, however, was for her girlfriend tap on her shoulder, looking a little excited and reluctant at the same time, asking: “Could you help me bake a cake?”

Akko’s eyebrows shot up, and she blinked away from her video game. “Oh. Without… magic?”

Diana nodded, and Akko lowered her line of sight towards the paper bag the blonde witch was carrying in her arm. Ingredients?

Akko dropped her game—her island and its denizens could wait.

“Please tell me you wore a mask when you went out to buy those!”

“Of course.”

--

Their first obstacle for the afternoon’s baking session was cracking the eggs.

“By Jennifer, I’ll always be amazed at how eggshells are both so fragile yet strong.” Diana accidentally crushed another egg, and braced herself for a witty remark form Akko, but none came.

“That’s okay,” Akko beamed, handing her another egg. “One more time!”

Encouraged, Diana picked up another egg and decided to just smack the damned thing along the rim of the mixing bowl. Oh. To her pleasant surprise, it cracked open obediently. “Right along the prime meridian.”

“P—Prime meridian!” Akko chortled, “mou, Diana, you’ve made the egg into a little Earth!”

Diana wanted to roll her eyes in annoyance but found herself smiling instead—Akko could get away with murder weilding a laugh as warm as that.

“Come on,” Akko stole a chance with a kiss to her cheek, “we’ll make a chef outta you yet. Time to get to mixing!”

The brunette had a good spot of fun during the first five minutes watching the taller witch mix. But Diana started grumbling about how her arm was sore, and so it was Akko’s turn to, to quote her girlfriend, “toil.”

“Someone’s comfortable,” Akko teased, leaning back when Diana decided rest her chin on the opposite shoulder of her mixing arm.

“I’m simply resting,” the blonde replied with a rare dash of jesting. She brought up her arms to circle Akko’s waist, squeezing a little bit while she planting a small kiss on the brunette’s shoulder. “Thank you for agreeing to teach me.”

“And what a teacher you’ve picked!” Akko giggled. “The last time I baked a cake, well… you were the one who brought Lotte to the clinic for a stomachache.”

Diana chuckled, and Akko couldn’t help but love the way she could feel the sound of it through her back pressed against Diana’s chest. “You know, I…”

“Mhm?”

“I always liked you teaching me new things.”

“After making beg all those times? You liked it after all?” Akko stuck her tongue out “Betrayal!”

“Oh, come on.” Diana nudged the side of Akko’s head. “It’s just… I always remember how I lost my magic when I was younger.”

Akko kept quiet, bring her pace of mixing to a slow, smooth motion.

“The kind of expectations my family had, and how hard it was to learn everything. Everyday. On my own. I remember how I couldn’t even cast simple spells, and how I told myself I’d never feel that… inept anymore. Not at school. Not at work.”

“But now, Diana, I’d say you’re pretty amazing.”

"That’s... Thank you.”

“But you don’t have to be,” Akko reassured.

“I… just never thought that. Not until recently. It felt right to be perfect—fit everyone’s preconceptions.”

“I don’t think you need to be perfect.”

Akko felt Diana’s arms wrap themselves around her a little tighter, felt her firsts clench with the way the cloth of her shirt balled up in them a little. The blonde witch relaxed, and then nuzzled against Akko’s shoulder.

“And I love you for that. Among many other things.”

Akko turned her head to kiss Diana’s temple. “Oh! Other things like what?”

“Must you always ruin these cheesy moments,” Diana rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway.

Akko laughed, dropping the mixing spoon to turn around in Diana’s embrace and drape her arms around her neck. “Indeed, I must! But for the record, I’m sure Hannah and Barbara don’t think so too, you know?”

Diana wiped a spatter of chocolate mix off Akko’s cheek with her thumb and licking it off on instinct.

“I love you.” Akko smiled, “even if you can’t bake to save your life.” She slowly brought a hand to cup Diana’s cheek and she tilted her head, inching forward for a soft, warm kiss that tasted like chocolate.

She really couldn’t bake. But somehow, Diana thought that was just fine.

---

An hour later, they found themselves trapped in an apartment that smelled like rich—yet slightly burnt—chocolate cake.

Diana looked a little lost and adorably sheepish, holding up a tray with a cake shaped like a… a rhombus? The frosting was uneven, although the birthday message was written in perfect handwriting (which was no small feat for a beginner!). Her sleeves were rolled haphazardly, and the apron looked hopelessly awkward on her, but by Jennifer—

(“Happy birthday,” she lifted the tray up as if to say ‘ta-da!’

Akko smiled so wide her cheeks hurt.)

—she looked absolutely perfect.

--

fin

---

A/N: Howdy folks! Firstly I genuinely hope everyone is safe and doing well. Stay at home--and stay properly informed! Secondly, aaaa I’ve missed writing and I’ve missed the fandom so have a cute fic! I have another idea which I’m excited to write!

This was the product of me getting so TIRED OF WRITING A RESEARCH PAPER all night and READING FOR THREE HOURS just to WRITE ONE SENTECE so I’m sorry if the grammar is kind of whack or for typOs you see sir it is 7;30am sir..,.,., i haven’t slept helpe meEe I am but an ant in a colony  L I F T