#the imp short this is strange sometimes (a lot of times) I really just don’t get innitors… just make up a new character or choose a diff

[bleue-flora]

idm the cdiscduo demon angel take but only when its not used to be like 'aw imp ctommy' infantilizing shit and justifying his height based on it like when people draw him like a toddler and then say hes an imp. also dont like the ''demon turned good'' just keep it as demon but probably not hell born and very different to c!bbh. Angel c!dream is fine but people try to twist it to be like he is obsessed with rules and order when c!dream canonically enjoys chaos at times. Also seen people say hes like adam from hazbin hotel which I think is odd. I think the hc of c!disc both being human is slightly better than demon-angel imo with c!wil, c!punz, c!george being humans too

Also I respect hcs but angel!c!tommy is just not possible.

Yup. I’m pretty much the same. I mean - you do you, boo - and if demon or angel dsmp member makes you happy then whatever, but to be honest with Badboyhalo being a demon it doesn’t necessarily make sense to say other human characters are also demons because why wouldn’t they look the same (obviously you could derive reasons but still). Plus their is canon specific mythology of the dsmp with Mumza and DreamXD that doesn’t relate to the Biblical doctrine. So there’s no reason to say whether either of them are angels or demons besides Bad, as there is no such evidence to support that. Is the Nether not Hell? Eryn is from the Nether is he too a demon? Where is Heaven?… are just some starting questions. Again you could theorize or make up answers but meh.

On the other hand, while I don’t think Dream is an angel, he is certainly connected to the divine in some way. He is considered the “admin” of the server and as I’ve touched upon before [here] Tommy’s comments in the finale basically confirm that Dream’s op is canon in some capacity. Additionally, god looks like him, which he explains by saying Dream is the first person he saw but still, is that also why he’s considered the admin. And on top of that, Church Prime is canonical but the founding is based in some part in Dream enlightening people as a Jesus or god. So I suppose there could be some evidence to support Dream being an angel, or at least likely some sort of divine being, but he’d be quite the flawed one that’s for sure. Technically, I suppose he was possessed by a dreamon so… he isn’t a “demon” but was perhaps a demon in the form of possession or something. But anyways, all that to say, the duality and dynamics of demon and angel I think is interesting mythology and even literature lense to look at things, however, I’d almost argue with how messy morally the dsmp is it is hardly a good application. In a world where again, morality is undefined and not according to our standards, and biblical elements like heaven don’t explicitly exist, I’d say it doesn’t work well. There are many narratives where it can be applied and looked at but I don’t think this is one, in my opinion at least. It just doesn’t work well. And that’s coming from someone who has drawn the parallels between Jesus and c!Dream and does believe in angels in real life…

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

2. twisted

The cartoon that came out of the machine was pretty as a picture, perfect in almost every detail, and had a bubbly, positive personality. But she was not what Joey had wanted Susie to become. (Set in an AU where Joey gets perfect toons from his freshly killed employees and STILL isn’t happy, the unpleasable bitch…)

“Progress report to GENT home office, Client; Joey Drew Studios.

With the addition of the new ink recipe to use in the machine, we have made an unbelievable leap in progress and have almost met our client’s expectations. What had started as a machine to mold life sized figures out of ink has now done things that border on being supernatural.

Although Mr. Drew seems unimpressed, even frustrated with the results at times, in spite of the fact that the models have come out identical to their cartoon counterparts.

The process of running the cartoon film through the machine for the figures to imprint on has been successful, but it looks like that unless someone goes through the trouble of making a short that only has ONE character in it, the machine picks what character it makes at seemingly random. That is our client’s complaint; that instead of being user chosen, the machine picks out which living, breathing, thinking ink models it makes at random. Upon working on this, if I were to be in the client’s shoes, I’d have several valid complaints regarding the machine and the models it created, but our client’s complaint… Is that the machine that doesn’t have a system that allows the user to pick and choose which model it makes yet creates a physically flawless model every single time, does not allow the user to pick and choose which model it makes. He never ceases to infuriate me.

On a sour note, there was an incident with the figure in the likeness of a character called ‘The Brute’. Upon its creation, it immediately went and broke our client’s leg in a very… well, brutal fashion too. But fortunately, it has not physically attacked anyone since The Cameraman figure was made as we have threatened to separate them if it keeps up that behavior. It still likes to insult people, and it still does things that unnerve me though. We’re hoping that the rest of the figures will be less violent and or creepy.”

Thomas clicked off the recording and sighed as he looked at the newly made report, there was no way he could submit this to his boss without someone sending in someone to make sure he wasn’t huffing in ink fumes and whatever the Studio workers smoked to consider any of this to be normal.

“Hey Tommy! I think I figured out the issue with the machine! Or rather, its fuel.”

The mechanic grit his teeth and turned to face his client.

“What? I wasn’t aware that there was a problem with it.”

“Why, Tommy, how could you forget? I’m talking about the figure deposit problem of course! Why did we get The Brute when we wanted to get Boris? Why did we get Cameraman when we wanted Bendy? The answer was so simple, why, it was even staring at us the entire time!”

“Uh huh…” Thomas did not look convinced. “And what was this issue?”

“The ingredients, the Ink of course! You simply can’t put blueberry pancake batter in an oven and be surprised when you get blueberry pancakes instead of blueberry muffins, We got those two knuckleheads before we got the real stars of the show because the souls used to make them weren’t fit to make those two, but the machine still did what it does best: made living cartoons.”

Tom had an uneasy feeling in his gut as Joey grabbed his arm and led him to the Ink Machine’s room. He felt like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse, he KNEW what went down in there! He knew the other ingredients, not well, per say, but for long enough to judge them and their characters.

He didn’t shed a single tear when Sammy was used in it, in fact, he was rather pleased with the results before it started acting out like that. He and the music director were almost always at each other’s throats for one reason or another. If you asked him, the ex-musician was strange, rude, clearly mentally unstable, and sometimes even cruel. And even if he wasn’t, his physical health had declined so much over his time at the studio that it was obvious that he would die regardless of whether or not he was put in the machine. Feeding Sammy to that machine was an act of mercy, really, and even if it wasn’t, it served him right to become a- err, The Brute and have him put the former musician in his place- put his villainous ways to a decent cause. Now if only someone could ensure for a fact that The Brute would behave...

Now the other ingredient, Norman Polk, was a different story. The man was old, weird and kinda creepy. On the surface, the man was an ideal candidate. Like Sammy, he would die anyway and nobody would miss him when he did. But on the contrary, he seemed like he still had some good years left in him. And while he was weird and creepy, he had been those things in an oddly endearing way that most of the studio had either liked or tolerated enough to not be bugged by it. The mechanic didn’t know how to explain it, that man reminded Tom of a mysterious, mostly-estranged relative that shows up out of nowhere and was always there for you even if you don’t always see him. So when the man snooped too much for his own good and had to be silenced… Tom could never look the resulting toon in the eye, or in his case, the lens.

But the mechanic couldn’t deny that it needed to be done, after all, the former projectionist was far too nosy for anyone’s sake. Nobody who knows the secret of the Ink Machine (or rather, it’s unconventional secret ingredient needed for its ink) should be free to wander the studio and spill the beans.

And a feeling in his gut was beginning to tell him that that was why he was the next on the chopping block.

He had built it, he learned what it would take to make it work, he had done what it took to make it work, and it was working now; No more models that would only move a tiny bit before collapsing into puddles! No more off model models! No more issues aside from x, y, z… -No more reasons for Joey to keep him alive when it was now too dangerous to his business… 

A tiny voice at the back of his head told him it served him right. The creator of this unholy torture device would now be consumed by it, just like how the maker of the Brazen Bull was the first victim it claimed.

At this point, he was almost morbidly curious on who or what the machine would make him; would it poke fun at his past and make him that territorial junkyard guard, Canoodle? Would it ironically punish him for his greed by making him The Fat Cat of the show, Boswell Lotsobucks? Would it acknowledge that although he was a villain to the bitter end, he still tried to go clean only for demons to drag him back down his dark paths and make him into Charley? Thinking about it, any butcher gang member would be a good enough fit really.

He was a mix of relieved, disappointed, and horrified when he was brought into the room and saw the unconscious voice actress of Alice Angel strapped to a mobile operating table. Joey seemed to ignore his reaction as he proudly showed her off and began to monologue.

“Like Boris, Sammy was a musician, simple-minded, and was very loyal to those he considered friends until the bitter end. But what made Sammy more like the Brute then Boris- Aside from body type, obviously, was that Sammy had quite the short temper on him, one that got messed with often, and a tendency to hold onto a grudge that can’t be swayed away with a good meal or a bad joke… Just like our friend; the Brute.”

Tom stayed speechless as Joey continued his seemingly prepared and rehearsed speech.

“As for Bendy and Norman, well, it’s obvious that those too simply weren’t compatible in the slightest! Sure, they both have their mischievous sides, but that alone doesn’t make a man into a good imp… However, do you know who DOES have more in common with Mr. Polk? That’s right! A certain smart alec-someone who knows a thing or two about anyone, everyone, and everything whether he wants to or not. Someone with a darker, more jaded sense of humor than our little devil, someone who can lurk in the shadows, or in his case, ‘backstage’ for safety or to gather Intel, but be happy and proud to take the front stage when the need arises! ...Alright, I can see that Norman’s soul may have influenced the personality of our Cameraman, but at least he did it in ways that make sense to the character.”

The mechanic continued to stay silent as Joey continued.

“But the main point is: we know what to do to fix this little issue. If we want a main character, we need someone who embodies the soul of that character. And Ms. Campbell here said it herself; Alice is a part of her!”

“Joey…”

“Why, she’d be thanking us if she knew what was coming! This is a dream come true for her! She always seemed to be the happiest when she was singing our angel darling’s songs…”

As if he was snapped out of a trance, the mechanic pulled Joey to his face, gripping the animator’s arms tightly and shaking him up a bit.

“Joey! We can’t do this! Susie isn’t like Norman or Sammy. She’s young, healthy, and still has a lot to live for. Nobody would buy that she passed on from something out of the blue, or that she moved away without warning or telling anyone. Everyone in the studio loves her and talks to her frequently! If we do this, especially so soon, they will make the connection, and they will find out about this. It was bad enough when Norman went, imagine if someone as well loved as her went too!”

Joey just laughed and slapped Tom’s shoulder.

“Oh Tommy, all we need to tell them is that Susie got her big break and is Bringing Alice to life in ways never before seen! And to sell the illusion, also tell them ‘you know how those folks in Hollywood are with their schedules, always a bunch of busy bees.’ They’ll bite, you just have to trust me.”

“What if they don’t?” the mechanic argued. “What if they start snooping around and start to piece together what really happened to her?”

Joey’s smile wavered a bit, but remained steadfast.

“Well, we’ll just have to cross that bridge when we reach it. And when we do, we’ll have our answer!”

“Nnnnggghhh…”

Both of them shuddered when they heard the voice actress start to stir awake.

“I swore I used stronger stuff in her drink…”

“...Jo...Joey..? ..Mr. Conner..?” The voice actress’s real eye widened in horror as she looked around, and her voice wavered as she grew more and more frantic. “WHat’s going on?! Where am I- Why am I tied up?!”

“S-Susie! Everything’s perfectly fine my dear, you just need to calm down a bit and I’ll explain everything…” He subtly jabbed Thomas in the ribs with his elbow. “Tommy!” He hissed “Throw her in the machine already!”

The frightened voice actress began to struggle against her restraints while Tom hesitated. Joey shot him a glare as he strolled up behind Susie and put a ‘reassuring’ hand on the weeping angel’s shoulder.

“Joey, please… let me go… Don’t do this to me!” Tears were running down the woman’s face, her voice was soft and breaking from her stress. “Just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone…”

“Now, now, Susie, there’s nothing to worry about, yes I know this looks unsettling from your position… But you and Alice are going places, new, big places that most people only dream of seeing! You’re going to bring her to life in ways that will touch the hearts of generations!”

A flash of realization crossed her face.

“Joey… answer me this: when Sammy ‘died from untreated lung cancer’ did he actually die from lung cancer? And when Norman ‘died from a workplace injury’ did he really…?” her voice trailed off a bit with uncertainty before asking her third question. “Did their deaths have anything to do with those two toons that showed up?!”

Her questions were not answered by words, but with actions as the two men stuffed her into the machine. When it turned on, her screams echoed throughout the mostly empty studio, chilling all who heard them to the very bone.

When they finally stopped, the machine whirred and roared to life and Joey rubbed his hands together in glee as he watched the machine work its magic.

Thomas, on the other hand, stood in silence while staring at his hands as dread and guilt sank in his gut.

The former man’s smile fell into a look of confusion when he saw a pair of gloves with ‘X’ marks on them come out, followed by arms that connected to them. That look of confusion fell deeper into a frown when he saw the arms stretch, curl, and twist when the gloves reached the floor as if they were streams of ice cream coming out of the machine at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

Alice didn’t have arms that curled and stretched, but Joey knew a certain demoness toon who did; Miss Twisted. He was cursing under his breath, of course it would complete their little trio before giving him what he wanted! Now he wasted his one shot at getting Alice!

The rest of the toon didn’t even get out of the damn machine, it was like she was taunting him by continuing to stretch her arms and let them continue to coil in piles on the floor instead of showing him the finished product.

Furious, he marched over and grabbed the toon demoness’s arms and yanked her out of the damn machine.

“Stop messing around!” He scolded before pausing and reapplying his signature smile. “Your friends Brute and Cameraman have been worried sick about you ever since their creation! You wouldn’t want to keep them waiting for you any longer than they’ve already been, right?”

He could’ve been imagining it, but he swore that she had a look of pure terror on her face before she put on a fake smile of her own. And was it just him, or was this Miss Twisted’s left eye slightly discolored, glassy looking, if that made sense for someone with pitch black pie-cut eyes. The grayer eye she had reminded him of Susie Campbell’s fake eye.

“Y-yeah! You’re right!” She pushed Joey out of her face, clearly uncomfortable by his staring but pretending to be perfectly fine. “I can’t keep my boys waiting for too long, who knows what they’ll do?” She chuckled nervously. “So… where are you keeping them? where are they hiding?”

“Tommy here will be happy to show you, just follow him and-”

“Thanks!”

The demoness chipperly chirped and swiftly yanked Thomas out of the room at a speed that almost insulted the man.

[x0401x]

Jeweler Richard Fanbook Short Story #12

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Suit Story

If you went through Ginza’s Main Street from 7-chome to 1-chome, the change in the city’s atmosphere would shock you. Bulgari, Cartier, Louis Vuitton, Chanel. Felt like you could play shiritori with these high-class brand names. It was a fun neighborhood to stroll around during Christmas season, as all the stores would come up with elaborate plans for the decorative lights, but it was currently autumn. The store most closely related to me in these vicinities was the long-established stationery store where I went to buy stationery. It was, however...

“Please raise your arms a little more.”

“All right.”

“Pull your chin back a bit. Yeah, that’s great.”

“Haah. Is this really right?”

“Of course. Might be hard, but please do relax.”

For whatever reason, I was across the street from the stationery store, practically in front of it, on the second floor of a branded men’s fashion store originally from England. On the walls of this mysterious-gentleman-themed space, which housed a bar counter and even a huge aquarium, there were clusters of business suits, pants and waistcoats with basting threads attached to them in conspicuous spots.

It was a place for taking measurements for custom-made stuff.

I couldn’t get over the feeling that this was some kind of mistake. Wasn’t this the stationery store? The place where you could buy vanilla-colored envelopes for 30 yen each? Or illustrated writing paper with seasonal vibes, or pens.

“Seigi, you are too nervous.”

“Nakata-san is such an imp, but so are you.”

Leaning against the bar counter, Richard shrugged his shoulders, indicating possibility.

Today was Thursday. Having been called by Richard, who said he wanted to ask me to do some odd job, I went over to the front of Etranger, and then we came to this store in the green jaguar. Just when I thought he was gonna make me hang with him for shopping, the man on the driver seat hastily took out his phone, showing me a video letter from my dad, Nakata-san.

“Seigi, congrats on your graduation. I wanted to go suit shopping with you, but I’m in Jakarta, so I’ll be borrowing Richard-san’s assistance for that. Seems like people are getting them custom-made lately. Make sure to buy a good one. Well, see ya.”

Richard had watched over me in the passenger seat as my eyes got wet, but the tears drew back in when we stepped into the store.

While talking lightheartedly about the difference between English and Italian suits, the young clerk, who wasn’t all too apart from me in age, smoothly took my body measurements with a measuring tape and showed me countless textures.

“You can also choose the lining. What should we do about the pockets?”

When I started getting dizzy, said man, who was like a page of suits, began giving me suggestions from behind. I had nowhere to run. I was really going to have my suit made here. As I picked a charcoal-gray suit with blue lining, Richard quickly told me that tanzanite cuffs would look very nice in it. Of course, I was thinking the exact same thing.

By the moment that the Onii-san finished the measuring and disappeared into the back of the store to take notes, I heaved a deep sigh. “This kinda stuff’s been happening a lot lately. All I ever do is receive.”

When I said that, Richard laughed, giggles ringing up his throat.

Richard had two types of smiles, and whenever he raised his voice while laughing, if I refused to back down, he’d often give me a word of advice of some sort. When it was a silent smile, I’d feel like he was telling me in some way to “reflect about myself”, which would make me a bit anxious, but I liked both.

Walking up next to me as I stood in front of the mirror, Richard grinned. “It is no longer guaranteed that your body will grow out of your clothes. Isn’t it fun to sometimes purchase slightly larger clothes and try to wait for your body’s growth?”

“Feeling like this talk doesn’t have the ‘sleep well and drink milk’ kinda nuance to it.”

The reply was a smile. How strange. Richard’s face was right at my left side, but the smile in the mirror was looking directly at me. Clad in a double-button slender silhouette suit, his figure was perfect no matter from what angle I looked at it, like an extraordinarily fine jewel, so my own figure as I tensed up beside him appeared even weirder.

“Hey, Richard, I kinda have the feeling that suits are like the base metals of jewelry.”

“Are you referring to the foundation parts of rings, earrings and such?”

I nodded. The base metal was the metal part that formed the foundation for attaching gemstones to jewelry. In stores, people would often memorize the materials and call them by their names, such as gold base metal or platinum base metal.

It was a part that never played the leading role in Etranger, which handled accessories with gemstones on them. But it’d be hard to wear jewelry on the body without it, and it was also a part that allowed people to express their particularities regarding the materials, durability and design. Whether they would be prominent or not depended on the basis. Erm, this was probably what a jeweler from Kyoto that I was acquainted with would say. The contrary was also possible.

“Gotta psyche myself up. If I don’t become someone that won’t lose to this suit, I’d feel bad.”

“This is my personal opinion, but there is nothing more tiring to look at than a jewelry in which the gem and base metal are at rivalry with one another. What you should emphasize is the harmony. Just because you use the finest high-grade eggs and milk as ingredients, it does not mean you will create the best pudding – is that not the same thing?”

“Ah...”

When I replied that, indeed, high-end ingredients were often strongly in demand, the beautiful man nodded with an “exactly as you say”. By the looks of it, those were the sweets that he was into lately. I hadn’t been able to take time some for it at all due to being busy, but I decided to make pudding again one of these days and offer to him. Despite having a wallet that enabled him to eat as many high-grade desserts as he wanted, Richard would always be delighted anew no matter how many of them I made, which made me believe that, as one would expect, he had a talent for pleasing people. I was grateful for his existence.

“Both suits and jewelry are goods that exist for the sake of their owners. The initiative is clear from the start. You must handling it skillful and comfortably, not fight against it. That is why it is custom-made.”

“So you’re also ‘skillfully handling’ the clothes you’re wearing right now?”

“Evidently. Enough that I do not know anymore at what point it ends and I begin.” With that said, Richard sleekly patted his suit. I wanted to try saying that too someday.

We exchanged glances not through the mirror but directly.

When the clerk Onii-san came back, the measuring recommenced. I got kind of embarrassed as he praised me, saying I was well-relaxed.

   “Seigi-kun, good work! Wow, that suit looks really great on you.”

“Thanks, Tanimoto-san. Uh, this print on your furisode, could it be—”

“I was told it’s a modern type of print, but yep, it’s kinda like...”

“It looks like a bismuth crystal!”

With a face that said, “I know, right”, a dandy crease formed under her eyes, which were just a bit more on-the-mark than usual. Her bob-cut hair was the same as always, her cream-colored hakama paired with a yellow-green and dark blue furisode, which bore a mysterious geometric pattern print. On top of being cute, it was unique. She said it was rented, but I got emotional upon finding out there was a furisode that was so much like her.

As for me, I was wearing a double-button English suit that fit my body extremely well. It was a little embarrassing, but the creatures called college boys were more or less the same kind of individuals as myself, so they weren’t too mindful of their male friends’ clothes. Only one of them, who had found employment in the apparel industry, said that “the suit Nakata’s wearing is so nice”.

It was the graduation ceremony of Kasaba University. We gathered in the excessively large auditorium for all but an instant, and once we had our diplomas in hand, it was the beginning of a rapid shooting party, where we took pictures with our preferred friends in spaces near the auditorium. Tanimoto-san came running over to the spot near the central library, where we had decided to meet up.

“Seigi-kun, really, congrats. Things might get hard from now on, but if it’s you, everything will definitely be okay.”

“Thank you. I’ll do my best. I don’t think I’m that big of a deal, though...”

“That’s not true. I know very well how awesome you are.”

I played around a little and bowed my head, also congratulating Tanimoto-san for her graduation, she laughed with a “huhuhu”, looking happy.

She had passed in teaching and she would officially be a middle school science teacher starting this April. She fulfilled the dream that she had told me about when we were in our second year of undergrad. So cool. She had laughed when I said I wanted to take her classes if it were ever possible, but now I knew her video communication address, so it might be that I could actually get to attend her lectures at least once. Even if I were no longer living in Japan.

“Tanimoto-san, the school you’re assigned to is...”

“In Okayama Prefecture. It’s famous for the Katsuta Group of vicarya fossils. Compared to you, it’s next-door.”

In a few days, my address would change from Japan to Sri Lanka. I was going to be a jeweler apprentice. I had been told that I would often have to move around in rough dress, so sure enough, I was going to dedicate myself to wearing formal stuff for the time being. It was a bit of a waste, but Nakata-san and Richard had probably given me a chance to wear this kind of thing because they knew about that.

I could hear a voice in the distance calling, “Shouko~”. It was apparently a friend of Tanimoto-san’s. She waved at them in response.

“Seigi-kun, y’know... I think I was very lucky to meet you in this university. Literally thank you. Thanks to you, university was always fun.”

“Those are all my lines. But Tanimoto-san, I only ever gave you trouble.”

“If you’re gonna say that, same goes for me. I feel like you’ve granted me many opportunities. Seriously, thank you.”

When she smiled, saying she was going to do her best, she looked really cute. Neither of us had any familiarity with Okayama, but surely, she would actively pave the way with her own strength no matter where she was. And on her days off, she would go out to the Katsuta Group to dig up fossils.

“From now on too, if there’s anything I can help you with, I want you to tell me. I’ll do anything. If you run into any weirdo, I’ll get on a plane and come give them a beating.”

“Me too; if anyone ever messes up with you, Seigi-kun, I’ll take my crack hammer and go finish them off. Look forward to it. Ah, Aki told me that a sniper rifle suits me better, apparently?”

“I-I wonder.”

After that, we talked for a while, seated on an inconspicuous bench, and when it was finally time, she told me to at least take care of my body, offering me her hand. I nodded and squeezed it back. Her hand was small but very strong.

“Take care of your body, at the very least. May the blessings of the stones fall upon you.”

“Thank you. You too.”

We bowed deeply, taking pictures with each other while we were at it, and once we were done with the commemorative photoshoot, in which the two of us kept a moderate distance from one another, we parted ways. Students here and there were hugging intensely and wailing, but neither she nor I were that type, and I didn’t think this would be farewell for a lifetime. We would definitely get to see each other from now on too.

However, this was our last time seeing each other while we were students. After the handshake, my angel waved her hand with a “see you”, even more brightly than an actual angel.

Later on, having finished looking around for the friends that I could call friends and going on a tour to tell them “thank you for everything until now”, lastly, I sent a brief text. Not to Richard. To Nakata-san and Hiromi.

“I was able to graduate from university without problems. Thank you very much, truly. I will be in your care from now on too.”

Rather than a greeting, it turned into a notice to announce my renewed determination. The stylish suit indeed gave off an extraordinary feeling of fittingness, but I couldn’t think I was fully used to it. Obviously. It finished being made just a while ago. It would start from here. If it would take on my shape the more I wore it, then I would make sure to wear it steadily to my own liking.

What mattered was the harmony, he had said.

While smoothly stroking the suit, which I still couldn’t deem as anything other than formal wear, as if I were stroking my favorite gemstone, I seared the contrast of cherry blossom petals against the blue sky into my eyes.

[morethanalittleconfused]

I accidentally wrote a 5k fanfic about incidents caused aboard the ghost by differences between species

I've been reading a lot of those old tumblr posts that are like “what if humans are actually just really, really hardy and alien species would be just completely blown away with the shit we put up with without a second thought” and it's got me thinking about the crew of the Ghost trying to get used to each other at first with three humans that are all just absolutely fucking insane, even more so than even your average human.

Rebels spoilers ahead, as well as a trigger warning for blood, vomit and general injuries

It starts with Hera and Kanan. It’s just the two of them, aboard the Ghost, and it takes some getting used to.

At first Hera is shocked by the way Kanan's body seemingly has no limits. He has never once complained about the temperature of the ghost, even when they were running low on power and Hera could feel her limbs start to get sluggish from the cold. Two weeks later he somehow managed to find his way back to the ghost after being in -2 degree Celsius weather for a half an hour with no coat on. When he walked back through the hatch with snow blowing in his loose hair and a red nose and said “it's cold as shit out there” after Hera had been panicking about losing him for the literal entire time, she had to practically scrape her jaw off of the floor. She would have been dead after a few minutes, and yet here he was, now steaming from a shower and shirtless, bitching about how the caf maker was broken.

As time went on, she learned his body did have some limits to the heat. At about 35 degrees he got irritable and short, but that was about when she started getting uncomfortably warm, too. But he would tolerate it. And more. He kept impressing her with the things he somehow managed to pull off, in conditions she would have thought would kill him. He could get knocked around far more than she thought he should be able to, and would haul himself back to the ship with a grin every time.

The way his body worked constantly surprised her. She noticed it first in how quickly he healed, and in how much he ate.

He could eat literally anything. Things she thought were poisonous for most species. He loved chocolate, and would easily eat ten times the amount that would send her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. He could withstand a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and could drink unprocessed coffee with no problem by the cup. Caf didn't seem to really affect him because his body processed it so fast. And he ate so. Much. it was ridiculous. The good thing was it didn't really seem to matter what.

Hera didn't need much food, but it had to be good. It had to count. Too much filler and she would lose strength. Her body couldn't process a lot, and if what she got wasn't exactly what she needed, her health went downhill, quick.

Kanan was not the same. He could, and would, eat anything. He didn't have any noticeable preference for plants or meat, or the quality of the food. If he could get his hands on it, he would eat it. He would eat food out of the refrigerator she would have considered to be dangerous. He put appalling amounts of random, unrelated food in a pan, cooked it, and acted like that was an acceptable thing to do. Omelets? She hated the very idea but he seemed to think they were wonderful.

And yet, for all that, they had once been stranded for over a week with only enough rations for one, and Kanan had insisted that she take the vast majority of the ration bars. She pushed back, and he then presented her with the absolutely shocking fact that humans can survive for over a month with no food. She was absolutely flabbergasted, and he took advantage of her stunned silence to press another ration into her hand, smirk at her and say, “I can take it. Trust me.”

Another thing she noticed very quickly was how fast he healed.

He could be bleeding openly one minute, and the wound seemed to close itself the next. She knew human blood had clotting factors far beyond that of nearly any other being, but it was ridiculous how fast he sealed himself up. Further into their relationship she got to see this close up when she accidentally touched some of his congealed blood on the floor of the refresher after cleaning him up. She had had to turn away and take a few deep breaths at the slimy, gelatinous texture. He had gently huffed out a laugh.

“Kinda gross huh?”

“Yeah... it's… unique.”

“I've always been kind of fascinated by the way it congeals so quickly. Handy I guess.”

Out of sheer curiosity she had run the end of a pen through the small puddle and been horrified to see that it mostly stuck together.

“It just… does that? Inside you? And that doesn't cause problems?”

“It can. If it clots when it's not supposed to. But mostly it keeps me alive.”

And it did. And though she wouldn't say it to his face, his ability to pull through seemingly anything took just one more worry off her plate. His wounds would be almost completely closed in often under a week, where she would have been dealing with bandages and salves for a month. He almost never got infections, and could keep going with seemingly incapacitating injuries.

They had once narrowly escaped a fight with a gang of imps and made it back to the ghost with almost no problems. She had a sprained ankle, so he had supported her most of the way there, and they had patched up each other's scrapes. He had needed a bit of training so he didn't just slap a bandaid on what could have been a potentially life threatening injury for her, but he did alright. It was only later, when they were sitting in the cockpit, well into hyperspace, and he had coughed suddenly, when things went sideways. She turned to see blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth, and more on his hand when he pulled it away. They both looked at it for a moment, then Hera almost blacked out as a sudden wave of adrenaline washed over her.

“Kanan you're- are you- let me make the calc- are you dying?”

“What? Oh- no I had thought I just cracked a few of my ribs but it would appear I must have broken at least one of them.”

“BROKEN? Your bone? Like in half?”

“I- yeah?”

“Chopper we need to get to the nearest med center right now. Tell them were coming. I dont care if its a fucking imperial light cruiser”

“Wait no lets not be hasty-”

“HASTY? YOU BROKE YOUR BONES KANAN”

“Okay i know it looks bad but really i'm not going to keel over and die right now. Make sure it's a safe med center and cheap too. I can wait.”

“Kanan your bones are literally broken.”

“Yeah. It's happened before and it will happen again. I've broken my arm twice. I've broken one of the bones in my lower leg. A couple toes. At least one finger. And don't even get me started on my nose. It didn't always look like this.” At that he had huffed out a small laugh, but then winced and brought a hand to his lower chest. Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. She had started to avert her eyes at the sliver of hip he showed, but as he pulled the shirt up higher and revealed more, she felt the breath taken out of her. His skin was mottled a whole host of awful colors, angry and puffy. He coughed that wet cough again and said, “Maybe I do need a med center after all”

She was incredibly relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and into the welcoming arms of medicine. She was less happy when Kanan was returned to her, that night no less, with only bandages around his chest and a note to “take it easy for a while” she was appalled to say the least.

His ridiculously resilient body sometimes created just as many problems as it solved, though. He got into bar fights after downing enough alcohol to kill a bantha, and got the piss kicked out of him. He ran headfirst into danger with little consideration for life or limb. He was reckless, and incredibly hotheaded, and overall behaved like a clown. She had no idea how the Jedi accepted humans into their ranks, if Jedi he was. Restraint, my ass.

His recklessness applied to food as well. He didn't really seem to mind what he ate, content with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, he could always regurgitate it back up. Twi’leks could not vomit, like many other species. It was yet another bizarre human trait. The ability to purge substances from your body without them having to pass through your entire digestive tract and cause more issues had always seemed like a neat trick to Hera. That is, of course, until she saw it in action.

She was roused one night by a strange noise coming from the refresher, and she had padded to the door, only to find it open. Blinking in the harsh light, she saw Kanan curled on the floor, wearing no shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, and he was panting heavily. She only had time to say “Kanan, what-” before he coughed and vomited into the bowl.

Her immediate reaction ricocheted from “Oh my god he's dying” to “I’m actually going to die just having to witness this” to “Oh stars he is actually dying” so fast she could barely process it. She was immediately horrified but had no idea how to help him.

“Kanan are you- do you need a medic? How- chop- CHOPPER! How do I help you? Are you hurt?”

He had turned and peered up at her with puffy eyes and a runny nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to talk but his voice came out too rough and he had to try again. Even then it was strangely thick.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay Kanan? You're in here dying for stars sake and I have no idea how to help you and where the hell is chopper-”

“Hey. hey.” He turned away for a moment and took a long breath in through his nose. “Calm down for a sec. I feel like shit so you're going to have to talk slower. Are you hurt or something?”

“Hurt? No I'm not hurt i’m just- you- you're in here- I don’t even know-”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath in through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah i’m just… trying really hard not to throw up again.”

“Oh.”

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her again.

She shifted against the door frame. “But you're… okay? This isn't life threatening?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then seemed to immediately regret it as he dropped his head between his knees for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and tipped his head back up.

“No. I'm good, I just ate something bad at that pub. And I also probably drank a bit too much as well. But I think it was definitely the squids fault.”

“Oh. So this is… normal?”

“More so than I would like. Yes.”

“Okay so…” she took a deep breath to calm her nerves now that it was apparent he wasn't in any imminent danger. “Do you need anything? How can I help you?”

“Some tea maybe. Some crackers. Anything ginger you have. It'll work itself out with time.”

She stood in the door, unsure of what to do, wanting to help him, and watched as he drew a quick breath in and closed his eyes again.

“Hera. Tea. Now”

“Right.”

As she dashed to the kitchen she heard the sounds of retching from behind her.

  There were some strange things about humans that became interesting as their relationship developed beyond mere captain and crew. His hair, for example. At first she had thought it was appalling, the sheer volume of it. It was everywhere. But all it took was threading her hands through it a few times, and hearing the wonderful noises he made, before she quickly changed her opinion.

Related to his hair was the fact that humans seemed to enjoy a certain level of pain, which she could not understand. He would moan audibly when she tugged at his hair, which startled her the first time, in the best way. Once, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she had dragged her sharp canines across the delicate skin of his throat, and had been surprised to find the taste of metal filling her mouth, sharp and bright. She was even more surprised at the way he had shuddered and come apart beneath her, just like that.  

Then, later, when Zeb and Sabine joined the crew, there was yet another learning curve as Hera adjusted to another human as well as a Lasat, and Zeb adjusted to Kanan and Sabine at the same time.

Sabine was just as reckless. She was a fighter too, but she didn't have the force to help her out. Hera had more than a few small heart attacks in the early days of Sabine's presence before she fully appreciated that she could take almost as much of a beating as Kanan. Sabine had once walked over a half a mile back to the ship with a broken leg, and when Hera pressed her on just how she managed to do that, Sabine had gotten quickly tired of the argument, ending it with a, “I don't know what to tell you, Hera! I didn't have any other options! I had to do it, so I did.”

Hera was used to most of Kanan's strange human quirks, but Sabine presented a new and entirely alarming one, which Hera first came in contact with on a supply run. Sabine needed a monthly supply of medical supplies. Hera knew very little about menstruation, as that was a trait entirely unique to human females. Why their biology decided that it was necessary was completely beyond Hera, it seemed incredibly inefficient. Sabine made as little fuss about it as possible, but Hera had embarrassed everyone about three months in when Sabine asked hera to go get her data pad from her room. Hera had burst back into the common room, and only then was able to identify the smell Sabine was carrying with her that had been tugging at the edges of Hera’s mind all day. Blood. She turned on Sabine with a very distressed, “Sabine are you injured? Are you sick?”

To which Sabine had responded, with a distinct note of confusion, “No? Why?”

And Hera, without thinking, had said, “There's blood all over your bed? Did you hurt yourself?”

Sabine had gaped at her for a moment, then blushed ever so slightly. “I uh- I forgot to wash my sheets after... Sorry. I forgot about that before I told you to go into my room.”

Hera still had not connected the dots and was opening her mouth to further interrogate Sabine as to why her bedsheets were covered in blood when Kanan had jumped up and said, “Hera! Let's go for a walk, yes?” and pulled her gently out of the room, but not before she heard Zeb turn to Sabine and say, “So, why were you bleeding?”

Zeb apparently hadn't had much contact with the more alarming of the humans' quirks, as he had his own room, until Ezra showed up. Then Zeb had to learn for himself just how absolutely wild human biology was for himself. He arguably had a rougher go of it, because while he had the rest of the crew to help him out, he was literally sharing a room with a teenage human.

The first time Ezra got food poisoning was just about as rough for Zeb as it was for Kanan and Hera, except it happened in Zebs room.  Ezra was mostly self-sufficient, but Zeb had come hollering down the hall. He had broken the “do not open my door without knocking” rule Hera kept firmly in place, but she couldn't even be mad at him. Hera was just glad Kanan had been in his own bed that night. She had woken to see Zeb standing in her door, his fur standing up like a spine down his back, one ear folded inside out, panting hard.

“Hera the kid- he’s- I don’t know what the fuck happened but he- I think he’s hurt- or- or something but I don’t know how to help him- it’s Ezra-”

At which point Kanan, who had been woken by Zebs racket, slid open his door wearing only his sleep pants. He took one moment to assess the situation, looked down the hall and said, “Oh, Ezra’s throwing up. Do you want me to take care of him, Hera?”

Hera sighed and got up from her bed.

“No, you get Zeb some tea or something. I've learned well enough how to hold hair back at this point.”

Zeb, still looking entirely horrified by the situation, allowed himself to be led into the galley by Kanan. Sabine poked her head out of her door, decided this crisis did not involve her, and went back to sleep.

The same situation had happened the first time Ezra had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. It was the kind Hera had witnessed with Kanan, and knew firsthand how horrifying it was if one didn't know humans noses just Did That sometimes. It was a middle of the night kind of bloody nose, where Ezra had presumably woken up with blood all over his face and in his mouth and in his hair and on his sheets, and had tried to catch the blood in his hands, which was all well and good until he somehow had to get down from the top bunk and open two doors to get to the refresher. That left Zeb to wake up to a room smelling of blood, with blood on the floor, on the door panel, and a trail leading to the refresher where he found Ezra leaning over the sink which was also, conveniently, covered in blood. All it had taken was for Ezra to turn his face toward the creature standing in the door and say “Zeb?” before Zeb was hurtling down the hall in a panic, calling for Kanan to come help him because the kid was dying.

Sabine, who had been up working on a project, was the first to respond to this particular “The human is dying!” call. She took one look at Ezra, standing in his pajamas with blood on his hands and said, “That sucks,” and turned back to her room.

Hera, who was making her way down the hall to check on if Ezra really was dying this time, had the pleasure of seeing Sabine turn back and say, “If you want a tampon to stop up the bleeding, they're in the bottom left drawer.” This worked surprisingly well at stopping Ezras bloody nose, because he was blushing so hard there was no blood left for his nose. Hera turned back to comfort Zeb, telling him she had reacted the exact same way the first time Kanan had woken up with a bloody nose. She saw him come out of his panic in time to realize she had effectively confessed to sleeping with Kanan, but wisely decided not to say anything. Nothing he didn't already know.

The humans were absolutely bizarre to spend time around. They ended up installing a wall in the galley that had live plants in it, not because they needed fresh plants to eat, but because their brain chemicals got thrown off if they weren't around plants for too long.

They had empathy for everything. Hera had once witnessed Ezra cry in a market when they passed a fruit stand with a deformed Meiloorun. When Hera asked why he was crying, he had looked up at her with these huge eyes, sniffed, and said, “I just feel so bad for it! No one will buy it!” They had, of course, bought it. Kanan tried not to get attached to anything, but he apologized for bumping into inanimate objects, and Sabine got visibly sad when they had to throw out a good piece of gear because it was broken or old.

They all three loved swimming. They were awful at it, just barely flopping around on the surface, but any time they were near even relatively safe water, they were in it, having the time of their lives. Kanan had once explained to Hera that humans have an extra fun little bit of evolution called the mammalian dive reflex, which slows their heart rate and lowers their blood pressure when they are in water, making it calming and enjoyable. Hera was skeptical until she watched Ezra calmly floating down a river on his back and wished she had that, instead of feeling nothing but panic anytime she had to float in water.  

They were mimics. They could replicate a stunning array of sounds, from animals to tech. Ezra's favorite way of annoying her was to make the noises her ship made when something went wrong, just to see how much she would panic before she realized it was him. They would sing along to anything, even if it was just instruments, and Hera would never admit it, but she loved Kanan's voice.

They could sleep anywhere. One of her favorite memories was walking around Chopper Base after a particularly exhausting mission and finding the three of them, Kanan in the middle, with one kid leaning on either shoulder, asleep, leaning against a crate. They had looked so peaceful, and yet she was again surprised at them. It was far too cold for her to even consider sleeping, there were fighters landing only a few hundred meters away, people running all over, and they were snoozing with smiles on their faces, just glad to be home.

And humans would pack bond with literally anything. She had thought Kanan was bad until she met Ezra. It was ridiculous. Her father had said that she was improper for developing a fondness for a droid, but the kid formed a relationship with everything that moved. It got them out of a few tight spots, sure, but she would never get used to having to sit still as some enormous predator loomed in their faces. The sight of Ezra staring down a cat the size of the ghost on some jungle planet, the cat's fangs mere inches from his face as it huffed at him, was something she would never forget.

They were wild and hard headed and strong and made her life so much more interesting.

Early on, Kanan’s strange human ability to adapt to seemingly anything had been a momentary point of contention between the two of them, and was still something she struggled with. It took time for her to be okay with the fact that humans and Twi’leks were just built differently. But it frustrated Hera how weak she felt compared to him. It infuriated her the way he could just walk off something that would have killed her. She had always striven to be adaptable and up for anything. She was strong, and she knew it. But she felt her inadequacies sharply next to Kanan. Early in their partnership they had been in the galley repairing themselves from yet another fight, when Hera had turned to see Kanan casually sewing his own skin up with a needle. The way he could just puncture his own skin like that, with nothing more than a wince and a hiss of breath, had made her see red for a moment and she had to excuse herself to the cockpit to take a breath. They had talked about it, and he had helped her to realize that she was, of course, strong. Humans were adapted differently, so it was entirely unfair for her to be comparing them. But they could compare emotionally, and she was one of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The two of them were forged in war, and had been through incredible things. She had fought prejudice and overcome so many obstacles to get to where she was, the best pilot in the resistance, without question. As he had said the last part, she heard him smirk a bit, and looked over at him, bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, to find him with a little crooked grin on his face and his hair falling down around his ears. She had felt her guarded heart open a little bit more at that, and had to turn and gaze back out at the stars before her heart opened completely to this rogue of a man.

Later, pressed against his chest in a supply closet, hiding from some stormtroopers, she would marvel at just how fast humans' hearts beat. She knew they were supposed to beat about two times faster than a twi’lek, but his seemed like it was fit to fly out of his ribcage. She found herself thinking, “Is it supposed to be doing that? Is this why he's such a hot headed idiot?” Later she would discover it did not always beat that incredibly fast, usually just a bit faster than hers. It made him ridiculously warm, and also may have contributed to why he was so quick to anything. Not rushed. Not hasty. Just quick. Quick to anger. Quick to smile. Quick to fight. Quick to laugh. Quick to love.

Maybe that was why it was such a shock when he finally reached his limit. She had gotten used to him pulling through impossible situations. She had forgotten that they had limits, just like her.

And then, years later, a glimmer of hope. Ahsoka and Sabine, travelling the galaxy over, searching for Ezra. While Kanan was gone forever, she still had a chance to get one of her boys back.

And of course, there was always Jacen. Her beautiful little boy, who was soft and sweet and yet surprisingly strong, just like his father. And Hera was comforted to know that wherever this wild galaxy would take him, he had Kanan Jarrus’ blood coursing through his veins to keep him safe.

[gondowan]

Over Your Shoulder

Pairing: Paz Viszla x f!Reader

You're used to working for others. As a freelance armstech, you flit from contract to contract, never staying too long in one place. Although the freelancer life is fun, you kind of wish you could trade it all for a little bit of stability. As the maker would have it, that stability shows up in the form of one (1) Paz Viszla.

Tags/Warnings: nothing right now, but future loving degradation, Good Communication Is My Kink, daddy kink, and other sexy consensual shenangians. Reader has slight self esteem issues.

Notes: I haven’t written for fun in forever, but new year new me! If you know me in real life never bring this up because I will combust lol. I was going to fire off a brief smutty one-shot pwp thing but of course I couldn’t resist adding ~ b a c k s t o r y ~ so here you go. Subsequent updates will probably just be pwp.

Chapter 1: All The Grass is Greener Everywhere You Look

Nervousness, you assumed, was a regular feeling for anyone who was newly married. Doubly so for the new spouse of a Mandalorian. Unlike the rest of the galaxy where marriage vows were somewhat loose, Mandalorians took their vows very seriously. Forever, generally meant, forever.

Your relationship with Paz Viszla was strange in and of itself. As a freelance armstech, you hopped from planet to planet offering your repair services, never staying in any one place for too long. While on Bothawui, you had let slip to a client that you were headed to Nevarro next. Greef Karga, the head of the Guild, had put you on a retainer for services to guild members for a few cycles. The pay was good, and he had promised you a steady supply of commissions from the local bounty hunters who frequented Nevarro in need of new weapons and repairs on top of the already nice stipend.

The Bothan, a short humanoid by the name of Eesk, perked up when you mentioned Nevarro, and the next day he came over as you were on your way to the spaceport.

“Can I ask a favor? Do you mind making a delivery for me while on Nevarro?” he asked, pulling a datapad out from his robes.

You looked up, eyes narrowing. Bothans were famous for their information network, and were instrumental to the destruction of the first Death Star, but still, you were understandably nervous. “ Eesk, I’m not interested in looking for trouble. I don’t need the New Republic or any Imp remnant breathing down my neck for delivering that for you,” you said.

Eesk laughed, “Relax, I promise you this isn’t serious. Just deliver this to a Mandalorian on Nevarro. It’s nothing classified, I’m just returning a favor for a friend,”. He slid over a stack of credits. “I’d take it to him myself, but unfortunately I’m held up on New Republic business”.

You reached over and tucked the datapad into your bag along with the credits, “Fine, but you owe me”.

“Next time you’re here, drinks on me.” he said as he walked away.

It was only until you had boarded the transport ship that you realized Eesk had never actually told you were to meet this Mandalorian. ‘Oh well,’ you thought, ‘he’s not getting these credits back’. You leaned your head against the wall of the ship, tired from hauling all of your luggage to the spaceport, and fell asleep.

You were three standard weeks into your contract with Greef Karga and the Guild, and still no Mandalorian had shown up to collect the datapad. It was nice to be somewhat settled in one place for longer than a week, and you had enjoyed the steady stream of work. You had also learned from Karga that the Mandalorian covert scattered from Nevarro, and he hadn’t seen one in a while. For all of their information trafficking and spy network, perhaps Eesk had gotten it wrong for once, and you didn’t really care to ask. After all, it would be nigh impossible to miss a person wearing head to toe armor, especially on Nevarro.

One morning, as you had returned from your walk to the lava plains, you discovered the door to your apartment was unlocked. Strange. Not a good sign. None of your alarms were triggered either. Carefully, you pulled your blaster out its holster before quietly pushing the door open.

“There you are. Been looking all over for you.”

A large man, clad in blue armor and covered in more weapons per square inch that any other being you had ever seen, sat next to your workstation. Despite the blaster pointed at him, he seemed unperturbed, posture open and relaxed.

“What do you want?” you asked, blaster raised, "You picked the wrong house to rob,". You had fended off your fair share of robberies, the expensive equipment you lugged around as an armstech was attractive to petty thieves, and not cheap.

“The datapad.” he said.

“I take it you’re the Mandalorian that Eesk spoke about.”

“Correct,”.

You rummage through your toolkit and dust off the datapad. “Here you go Mr. Mandalorian, although I suggest next time you knock during business hours. Breaking and entering is reserved for long term partners, and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet”. You wince a little inwardly, maybe this dry spell was affecting you more than you thought.

You tap the edge of the datapad on the Mandalorian’s chest plate. “Oh and you might want to get the blaster strapped to your thigh checked, those scorch marks are usually a bad sign,”.

The blue hunk of armor stood up and took the datapad from you. “Thank you for this,” he rumbled before heading out the door.

“Ah, so you do have manners,” you teased before moving to shut the door.

You can’t see the expression on his face, but you hear the huff of a laugh through his modulator accompanied with a shake of his shoulders.

You were pretty sure you’d never see him again.

Wrong.

The next day right as you returned from dropping off a box of repaired pistols, there he was again, blue armor and blank expressionless helmet, sitting in the same spot next to your workstation.

“Can you fix it?” he asked.

You gaped at him for a second, before remembering the comment you made yesterday. “I can take a look,”. You cross over to your workstation, turning on the light and the magnifying glass and grabbing your toolkit. It was an easy but time-consuming fix, and you quickly busied yourself with disassembling the rifle.

“You’re not from Nevarro,”. A question, posed as a statement.

You didn’t look up, “Nope, I’m just passing through.” Hmm, that power cell did not look too good.

“Where is home for you?”

“Nowhere,” you said matter-of-factly as you tinkered away, “Like most people, the Clone Wars and the Empire destroyed what little of a childhood I had. Got taken in by a kind armstech who taught me the trade, and now I hop from planet to planet making a living. What about you? I heard about what happened to the Mandalorians on this planet,”.

“Also nowhere,” the man grunted, and he remained quiet. You finished your work, and handed him the blaster, butt end first.

“You owe me two drinks now, breaking into my place like that.”

He took the blaster from you, two gloved finger tips drawing a line from the middle of your forearm down your wrist. An unnecessary movement, he could’ve just taken the blaster. You gulped. He put the gun back in its holster and leaned forward.

“I might, if you ask nicely. I saw the way you sized me up the first time,”.

You swallowed, mouth going dry. “It’s uh, part of my line of work. Gotta make sure everyone’s packing-- I mean, everyone’s weapons are in tip top shape.” Your stupid lizard brain, at it again.

He cocked his head to the side, “I’m sure it is,” the mirth evident in his tone.

Every evening thereafter, the blue Mandalorian showed up at your doorstep, a new weapon in hand for you to look at. It was nice, you had to admit to yourself. A consistency in your otherwise inconsistent life, and you grew to enjoy his company. What you couldn’t handle however, was the escalating tension between the two of you. He would occasionally stand behind you, his big, all-encompassing frame brushing up against your back, and lean over you to ask about this or that. The first time you thought it was an accident, but then he followed up with an oh-so-casual touch of your wrist, and you were pretty sure it was on purpose, but you also couldn’t tell if that was wishful thinking on your part. Occasionally the two of you would strike up a conversation, but for the most part he sat in a comfortable silence while you worked. When he came over the fourth night, large gattling gun in tow, you decided it was high time to try to get to know him better.

“Uh...would you like to stay for dinner?”, eyes looking down on the (ancient) gattling gun, trying to keep your voice light.

He paused and shook his head “I can’t,”.

Oh, an immediate shut down. Great. Well it was worth a shot.

“Not for the reason you think. I can’t remove my helmet in the presence of others, that’s part of the creed,”.

That made a lot of sense. You hadn’t come across many Mandalorians in your travels, but all of them were rather cagey about their armor and helmet. You had assumed it was due to the value of beskar, but this was the first time you had heard about this creed.

You looked up at him. “Don’t you ever get lonely?” you blurted out, the words forming on your tongue before your brain could shut you down. “Nevermind-- I’m sorry I-”

He interjected, “Sometimes. There are some exceptions though,”.

You leaned forward. “Such as?”.

A pause. He stepped forward, tipping your chin up with a finger.

“ Would you care to find out?”

Ch 2 here

[v3nusaphr0d1t3]

cuz im all that you want, boy

crossposted on ao3: <3 rating: explicit content warning: shameless porn, crying during sex, unprotected sex (wear a condom kids), feminine terms used for ftm genitals, i think thats it correct me if im wrong! <3 dabi fucks tomura silly on stream !

it was only a matter of time before tomura’s next stream, and his views were at an all time high. he had taken pictures of himself in the thigh highs and garters before he went live last time, and those posts were blowing up.

he wondered if dabi would let him take pictures next time.

next time was also a fun prospect. dabi and tomura had been considerably closer since the livestream, dabi being more and more taunting each time he interacted with tomura. tomura wanted to say he disliked it, but that would be lie. not that he was impartial to lying. but it just felt strange to lie to himself about the man who would be actively fucking him to pay the bills.

tomura got almost unreasonably excited for the next stream, but before it came, he needed to talk to dabi. they needed to set limited, get supplies, and get all of that set up before they dove too deep into this. he didn’t wanna fuck the dude up or potentially get himself knocked up.

so a couple days before his next scheduled livestream, he caught dabi in the kitchen. it was later on in the night, both being unhealthily nocturnal. dabi looked up from his ramen, sitting on the counter, and immediately gave a shit eating grin.

“hello, freakshow.” tomura’s voice was laced with annoyance and sarcasm.

“hey, creep. what’s up?” he took a long slurp of his ramen, and tomura fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“we gotta talk about some things if you wanna keep joinin’ me for the streams.” tomura pulled up a chair at the table, across the counter that dabi was currently sitting on.

“ok, so first off. you can quit out at any time, i’ll just end the stream or continue it alone. just remember that, you can leave at any time. i’ll delete any videos or anything that i put up with you in them, just tell me.” tomura started out with the most important thing. “you can always tell me if you don’t like something, or if you aren’t comfortable with something. you got a safeword? mine’s red light, just for ease.”

dabi smiled, a strange reaction that tomura didn’t evoke often, and nodded. “i gotcha, i’ll go with that too. now what’s goin’ down during the next one?” dabi’s smile morphed into the shiteating grin that tomura knew all too well.

“well, it really depends. you could do me, i could do you, its what the audience wants to see. and what they’re willing to pay for.” tomura sported a little smirk of his own, immediately dropping when the man across from him took a loud slurp of his noodles.

it was a moment before dabi replied. “cool with me.”

---

in the days following, tomura made it his mission to try to wind dabi up. he wanted to increase the tension between them, and he found in his attempts that the frustrated blush on dabi’s face when he was frustrated was a good look on him. 

he would purposefully brush too far against him in the hallway or the kitchen, be in the kitchen with his thigh-highs on, or just give dabi these looks that he knew he was capable of— only because he had practiced them in the mirror for his streams. and the teasing was working. dabi was wound like a spring, snapping at tomura more often, and tomura would just grin and walk off.

it made him feel powerful, knowing he was doing something to his poor roommate. 

eventually the day came when the stream would take place, and butterflies made their way into tomura’s stomach as he set up the camera and tripod perpendicular to his bed, along with quivers in his legs and gut. and ten minutes before 10 pm, he knocked on dabi’s door and made his way back into his room to sit on his bed.

he put on some beat-heavy background music, easing him into his mood. he wasn’t wearing anything special on the surface this time, just a black thong under his shorts and a hoodie. he knew dabi would eat it up anyway, by the look on his face as he entered the room. he practically billowed steam, eyes lit up like firelight. it was intoxicating the way the other man looked at him. he turned his back, swallowing his embarrassment and adopting his livestream persona. he took a deep breath, moved to his laptop, and started the stream. dabi took his seat on the bed, leaned back on his hands and watching tomura like a hawk.

tomura greeted his returning viewers, and welcomed new ones, before the view count got too high to speak to individually and he addressed the group of them all.

“hey, i’m tomura, this is my roommate dabi, and welcome to tonight’s stream—” he went on to explain the goals this stream, and left the events of the night open to the democracy of his chat.

>> I kinda want to see our boy get ruined… 0////0

>> Agreed!! ^^

>> idk, i think we shud let tomu decide -3-

>> fuck him up dabi

tomura nearly blushed at the influx of comments requesting dabi ‘ruin’ him, and he’d be lying if he said the thought wasn’t getting him wet in his shorts. he chuckled, a fake hollow little thing that the audience would eat up, and quickly looked back at dabi. he was nearly stopped in his tracks at the sight of two neon blue eyes tracing his movement with intensity that had tomura nearly shaking.

“well, folks, i’d say yes but i think i’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is.” it weirdly always paid for him to be upfront. it added to his strange rotten charm as a performer. 

dabi seemed nearly surprised in the background, the white-haired man watching him through the screen of his computer.

“what’re they suggestin’, tomura?” his name out of dabi’s mouth was intimate in this setting, and almost threw tomura off. he turned to face the man, giving another shit-eating grin.

“they wanna see you fuck me.” he was composed and slightly sultry outwardly, but on the inside it felt like a small horde of giant butterflies were currently trying to rattle his ribcage. he was glad he was on medication for his raging anxiety or he wouldn’t have this job, or the chance to fuck his hot roommate. he could feel the tingle in his legs working its way up and toward his core. especially at the look and quiet growl dabi made at tomura’s words.

he prayed to whatever god was listening that someone donated. but in the meantime, he had a show to put on. he turned back to the chat.

>> rile him up, tomu ( •̀ᴗ•́ )و ̑̑

>> ^^^^

and tomura’s own eagerness showed when he immediately followed orders, standing up and making his way over to where dabi was sitting, sliding into his lap just like last time.

“hello again—” tomura cut dabi off before he could even start with a hungry kiss. dabi’s arms immediately went to wrap around tomura’s waist, engulfing it and pulling tomura against the hardness in dabi’s sweatpants.

hot.

ding!

tomura pulled away from the kiss, whipping his head around to look at the screen.

>>> cyncyty Donated $50.00: ride his face ! <<<

tomura’s face turned red, looking to dabi, who was also staring at the donation.

“well, looks like we have a request! thank you... “ tomura didn’t have a clue how to pronounce the username, “so much!” his voice was enthusiastic to hide the shaking in his legs that dabi could no doubt feel as said man gripped his thighs and grinded his hips up, causing tomura to lose his breath.

“you heard em’, hop on.” dabi’s voice was gravelly and tomura could see the desire in his eyes. dabi leaned back on his elbows, still rolling his hips up into tomura.

tomura put on a show in taking his clothes off, as he always tried to do. pulling his hoodie over his head, and removing himself from dabi’s lap to taunt the camera with the straps of his underwear that were visible over the sides of his shorts. he saw dabi strip his shirt in the background as tomura finally pulled his shorts and underwear off after plenty of taunting his audience. and dabi, apparently, because as soon as tomura was in reach, dabi was gripping him by the waist and pulling the white-haired man back-to-front in his lap and attaching his lips to tomura’s neck.

tomura let out a (semi-embarrassing) whine, arching back into his touch, feeling the other man’s erection through his sweatpants. dabi ate it up, sucking another mark into tomura’s neck before laying back and laughing at tomura’s gasp when he thrust up again.

“c’mon babydoll, we don’t have all day.” tomura swore dabi got a power-high from this, evil little glint in his eye telling the white-haired man all he needed to know. either way, there was a reaction in the way that tomura scrambled to position himself with either thigh on the sides of dabi’s head. the camera had a side perspective, getting all of tomura’s expressions as dabi dove in.

dabi had a lot of practice, somewhere, sometime because the way he was working tomura out almost immediately was borderline unfair. tomura snuck a hand into dabi’s hair, yanking and receiving a growl against him for his efforts. tomura ground down against dabi’s magical fuckin’ tongue as he brought his other hand up to muffle himself. that had dabi immediately pulling off of him to look up at him, blue eyes meeting red, as if waiting for something.

“they gotta hear you baby, ain’t that the whole point?” tomura could hear his smirk but obeyed anyway, putting his other hand in dabi’s hair and pulling him back to where he wanted him.

ding!

>>> cmrbbg Donated $110.00: Fuck him silly, Make him cry. <<<

tomura looked over to the laptop, blissed out look in his eye, only to see his highest returning donator once again blow everyone else out of the water. tomura rolled his hips against the warmth of dabi’s mouth before pulling away, sliding down and letting dabi sit up.

but before tomura could say anything, dabi said it for him.

“god, fuckin’ thank you—” was his only warning before dabi was manhandling him into quite an embarrassing position, face down ass up on his own bed before he could even say ‘shit’. dabi had him by his hips, forcing his back into quite the impressive arch. 

dabi grabbed the lube from tomura’s bedside table and slicked his fingers up, one entering with no resistance. he added another, earning a breathy sigh from tomura. he curled his fingers upwards, locating that little spot inside him that made tomura’s hips rock against him.

“god, you’re so pretty like this, y’know?” dabi breathed out, words deep and damn near confectionary. tomura wasn’t used to compliments, burying his head into his arms. dabi scissored his fingers.

“you are. you’re glowin’, baby. so perfect like this, gonna take me so good. you’re gorgeous.” the last bit was whispered, the mic not picking it up as tomura blushed down to his shoulders. his arch deepened, legs spreading a bit more as dabi added a third finger. it was accompanied by a pitiful moan that failed to be muffled by tomura’s arms. finally, dabi deemed him ready— or he was just done with this torment, as tomura heard clothes rustling and the slick sound of the lube. tomura didn’t turn around, only swaying his hips from side to side coyly as he knew the audience liked.

he felt those hot hands grip his hips again, and he felt hot pressure against his entrance. dabi grinded his cock against him, not entering as another form of torture that teh white-haired man  was fed up with.

“you know what to do, tomura.” the words were commanding and taunting at the same time, the tone making tomura hot as dabi massaged his thighs. tomura tried to push back against dabi, grinding back and making the other man suck his breath in.

“you’re not gettin’ nothin’ unless you ask nicely, i know you know how to, baby.” dabi murmured, tracing his hand along the dip in tomura’s spine. the touch was so gentle, so intimate, that it had tomura spilling his pride and his words for this man yet again.

“please,” he panted out, nearly biting his hand out of embarrassment due to his whiny tone.

“please what?”

“please fuck me, please—” and with a shock that shot straight up his spine, he felt dabi enter him all at once. he made an awful squawking noise, nearly folding in on himself. dabi stayed where he was for a moment, tapping on tomura’s hip to check in on him. tomura nodded, and dabi began his violent thrusts. tomura felt every slide of metal and hot flesh against his inside, feeling split open on the other man’s cock. the rubbing against his insides scratched an itch, satisfied an ache, and he could feel himself getting lost in it. his moans were muffled into his arms as his eyes damn near rolled to the back of his head, eyes half-lidded and full of lust.

dabi suddenly, grabbed him by his hair and wrapped a hand under his chest and pulled his up, throwing him off guard. a new angle hit a spot inside tomura he didn’t even know he had, and he let out a loud gasp as dabi continued to plow that spot inside him. tomura felt a pressure building up in his gut.

“fuck— dabi, god, please—” tomura babbled, “god, i can feel it.”

dabi let out a breathy chuckle, nosing along tomura’s shoulders, moving to hold him up by a vice grip on his elbows.

“close, close, please—” 

and with that, dabi dropped tomura onto the bed, roughly pulling out and leaving tomura to face-plant into the pillows.

tomura looked around at him with murder in his eyes. dabi only grinned, leaning over tomura and flipping him over on his back. dabi took tomura’s hands, placing them above his head.

“keep em’ there or it’s over,” dabi threatened, despite the fact that he felt like he would die if he didn’t have tomura right there with him. tomura was heating up and his brain felt like jello already, his orgasm staved off by the drop of his gut from the surprise faceplant.

dabi re-entered, this time agonizingly slow. tomura tried to wriggle his hips, but dabi just held them in his iron hot grip. they had honestly forgotten about the camera at this point, too caught up in the flush of their hips as dabi finally pushed all the way inside. they started up again, rocking their hips together with enough momentum that the impact was nearly bruising at the spots of touch. tomura’s pillowy thighs helped with that, despite his boney nature.

the drag of heat from his cunt to the look that dabi was giving him, in addition to the buildup of one orgasm with no relief had tomura getting close again already.

“please, can i cum? i’ve been good, i’ll be good—”

“god, you have no idea how good you sound right now. you’re so hot, tomura. beg me again, just like that?” dabi’s grin was awful and shit-eating, but tomura had lost all pride, only focused on the slap of their hips and the melting of his own mind.

“dabi! dabi, please— let me cum, god—” and as much as dabi wanted to give it to him, he still pulled out. he had a job to do, and with the way tomura was wriggling in frustration, whimpering like a bitch in heat, dabi could do this all day.

he had to make tomura cry. and with the look on the other man’s face, he wasn’t far off. wide, glassy eyes, a grimace and upturned brows. all he needed was the tears. so he sat, and he waited while tomura squirmed. each time tomura would try to take initiative, dabi would grab his hips to stop his movements, and tomura had yet to disobey him about moving his arms. it was so hot to have control over someone who usually gave him so much shit.

tomura started begging again, and dabi eventually had to give in, piledriving his cock into the man below him. and with a few particularly deep thrusts, tomura threw his head back as a tear ran down his face. his moans were more like quiet and breathless sobs at this point, so eager and so ready. so dabi sped up, slamming into the boy harder and harder. tomura’s words sped up and broke apart until they were just small little groans of “dabi”, “please”, and “fuck”. it was amusing that dabi really had fucked him silly. tears escaped tomura’s gorgeous red eyes, rolling down his red cheeks and bringing dabi so much closer to the edge.

tomura’s arms finally moved and came to grip at dabi’s biceps. dabi allowed it because the boy probably needed something to ground himself with. dabi decided to show the poor boy mercy, reaching down with his thumb to circle the boys swollen clit and leaned down to murmur in his ear.

“cum for me, pretty boy,” and tomura was undone. a cry, a gasp and a visceral physical reaction, and he was clenching around dabi as he came so hard he saw stars.

it wasn’t long for dabi, pulling out and cumming on tomura’s stomach with a groan, panting as he felt tomura still holding on to his arms. dabi sat back for a moment to catch his breath before approaching the laptop, still nude.

“well, i hope you enjoyed. gonna go take care of our resident star, and i’ll be seeing you guys next time.” dabi murmured a quick goodbye to the audience, shutting off the livestream and turning off the computer. dabi didn’t know how to turn off the equipment, that was just something tomura would have to fuck with once he came back to the land of the living. dabi went off to retrieve a rag and some water, coming back to tomura staring at the ceiling.

“you with me, baby?” dabi sat back on the bed, using the rag to gently clean tomura up, before cleaning himself up and throwing the rag on the floor to be dealt with later (gross). he motioned the water bottle to tomura, which he happily gulped down.

“jesus, yeah. that was—” tomura cut off, shaking his head. “can you get my hoodie for me? and some regular underwear. i can’t fuckin’ walk, freakshow. you did me in.” tomura griped, and dabi went to fulfill the request, throwing on his own boxers. and to his own surprise,tomura grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him down onto the bed and wrapping himself around dabi like some sort of koala. 

“stay,” was all tomura said.

and so dabi did.

[weaselle]

Hey, do you think you could do an 'Old World' post, like the one you contributed to before? The one with the huge trees and ground sloths and musk oxen being goats. I ADORE that post, and I'm hoping to see more eventually. Please don't feel like you have to, I would just enjoy it :) hope you have a good one!

do you have any idea how much I appreciate being asked to talk about something I’m interested in!? Thank you, I’d love to

Imagine this: It’s 100 thousand years ago. There are dwarves, trolls, goblins, imps, giants, a couple kinds of elves, the First People (those that came before us all) something that might later be called seraphim, and many strange monsters. 

I’ma talk about monsters in a minute. Let’s talk about those other things, the like, fantasy races. Now, I don’t have time for every one of these, so I’m going to cover one I have the most information on. Dwarves

A sister species of humanity that is short, broad, bearded, some with red hair, lives in caves in the hills and mountains, are superb crafters, making instruments, wearing intricate leather outfits and known for creating large expertly made axes and hammers. Dwarves, right?

Or did I just describe Neanderthal

See, the earliest stories of dwarves from Scandinavia are confusing, because sometimes they talk about them being small or short, but sometimes talk about them being enormous. And that’s actually perfectly explained by Neanderthal

Check it out. Neanderthal, while noticeably shorter on average, were BUILT big. Look, it’s not just the cranial capacity, the eye sockets are larger, the nasal cavity is larger, the mandible is thicker, the teeth are larger, the bone around the ear and eye is  thicker. Looking at these skulls you would assume the person on the left was far bigger than the person on the right, and you would be correct, in every way except height.

So when the earliest stories of dwarves sometimes talk about them being short, and sometimes being massive, this situation matches. Neanderthal were THIC. But they averaged about five foot four at a time when humans in the north were passing 5 foot nine

That’s only averages tho, so sometimes it would be like a 5.1 Neanderthal and a 6.1 Sapiens, but sometimes it would be like, a 5.6 inch Neanderthal and a 5.3 inch Sapiens. Which makes the early myths make even more sense:

me, a 5.5 neolithic farmer, whose community of farmers trend toward the short side, having met my first Neanderthal, a 5.8 man built like a bear twice my weight and three inches taller than me “the Dwarves are massive! giant! huge!”

you, a tall hunter from a community of hunters who tend taller than average, who runs into Neanderthal several times a year and knows they are usually nearly a foot shorter than you are “you mean the little people?”

I’m pretty sure that humans were actually the elves that came in both dark and light varieties in these Scandinavian myths, but that’s a whole topic involving the way that invaders often adopt stories of the people they invade. But there are other species, not just Neanderthal and Sapiens and Denisovans, there was also at LEAST one other sister species we’ve found genetic proof of within our own genome. And who knows what relatives of ours were living only on the exposed continental shelves of the last 100 thousand year ice age? So there are a lot of options for elf.

ANYWAY

I like to think of all these sister species of humanity as being these fantasy races. I know I mentioned goblins and imps, and all I have to say is if you’ve ever seen videos of people dealing with baboons or macaques in some town somewhere, you can appreciate what a population of humans who were much closer to wild themselves might think of similar species.

NOW. Monsters.

Not only are there many strange animals to pick from, but I use a fun thought process to include almost anything I want.

See, when you say a creature lived from X time to Y time, it’s because we have some bones from X year, and we have some bones from the same creature dated to Y year. That’s great for describing what we know for sure.

But for what MIGHT have been, for what’s possible, you can extend the range

It’s pretty safe to assume we didn’t get a fossil of literally the last of them to live. So if I want to think about how a mythical creature sounds just like a real creature, but that real creature was from a time half a million years previous to the culture, well, that could still be a match.

Consider the Siberian Unicorn also known as Elasmotherium sibericum a species of rhino. We thought they went extinct 200 thousand years ago, which would have made them unavailable for the time period we’re talking about. But then we found some bones from between 30 and 40 thousand years ago, which means they might have out survived the Neanderthal!

Now consider the Coelacanth a 4-6 foot fish we were sure went extinct with the dinosaurs. Turns out we were wrong by about 75 million years, because they’re still alive today

So clearly, as long as there is somewhere preserving approximate environmental conditions, any number of things could have far different periods of existence.

Like, we know of Denisovans, a whole sister species of humanity, from a handful of bone fragments. This is the biggest piece of Denisovan bone we’ve ever found

That’s part of a jaw. And along with a handful of small bone shards, some teeth, and the tip of one pinky finger, it’s the only physical evidence we have for the whole species. Except that we managed to get a whole genome from the miraculously well preserved pinkie tip. This branch of humanity split from us at roughly the same time as Neanderthal, and modern Tibetans owe their genetic adaptation for higher elevations to human interbreeding with the Denisovan people. They existed for about half a million years, and the only hard evidence we have is a handful of bone pieces. From like two locations.

So if something interesting could be explained by a population of Neanderthal or Homo Erectus living outside the age range of the bones we have, that is entirely possible. Depending on how far outside, it even becomes LIKELY, because, again, we’re never going to get the LAST one that lived as a fossil, fossilization is so rare.

WHAT I’M TRYING TO SAY IS THAT THE OLD WORLD REALLY WAS A WORLD OF GIANTS AND ELVES AND DWARVES AND MONSTERS AND MAGIC

wait, did I say magic? Yep. Consider this: there is a magic valley in Africa that kills anything that goes into it at night. lizards, birds, people, they just... die. But not every time - a person can walk through it during the day and be fine, or sometimes at night too. Turns out there’s a large pocket of carbon monoxide underneath that leaks out constantly. In the day, the heavier than air gas creates a layer along the ground and collects in dips and hollows, but in the cooler temperatures of night drifts up six feet or more. So you might walk into the valley and be fine, but it gets a little cooler, or you walk down hill for a bit, and boom, carbon monoxide poisoning. It can take only a couple minutes to kill you.

Viola, one Cursed Valley.

Or! Imagine you are a human from 40 thousand years ago. You find a grave, you dig it up, somebody was buried with something like a wooden axe or sword (these things exist, it’s all about the density of the wood, the wedge shape, and the weight -- a heavy wooden sword can definitely decapitate a person, and we’re taking about a time when metal was rare or non existent). But THIS wooden weapon, while clearly wood, also sparkles like a gem in the light, is hard as stone, doesn’t burn if put in the fire... THAT’S a MAGIC WEAPON.

It’s also petrified wood.

This is the world I’ve been researching for my book Stone Punk, which I’ve only managed to write one chapter of so far

I would be so happy to write so many more posts about this, I’ve been researching the first domestication of wolves, cave art, neanderthal diets, ancient Indian, Russian, and Chinese myths... all kinds of things, but this post is long enough -- hope it was close to what you were looking for Anon!

[writersrealmbts]

Con Amore: Part 15

Bulletproof Melody Sequel

Description: Con Amore– A directive to a musician to perform a selected passage of a composition tenderly, with affectionate emotion, or in a loving manner; an instruction to the player of an instrument meaning ‘with love’ or ‘lovingly’. Three years with all seven of your loves, three years of relative peace. But now everything is threatened as darkness surges from the horizon.

Originally Posted: 05/28/2020

Tags: Superheroes, Ot7

Fluff/Angst: 2,035 words

A/N: One more part after this, then we’re done. Promise.

They were an odd group, but they worked together brilliantly. Sometimes, they reminded you of your boys.

Yeonjun cracked some corny jokes now and then that reminded you of Seokjin, but could also be as serious as Hoseok.

Huening-Kai had a tendency to pull the maknae card like Jungkook, and the enthusiasm that Taehyung got when excited.

Soobin would get embarrassed and melt a little like Jimin, or sometimes like Namjoon.

Beomgyu was absolutely as snarky as Jimin.

Taehyun’s attention to fashion which reminded you of Namjoon mostly, but also Jimin, Taehyung, and Hoseok.

“Do you think they would train us if we asked?” Beomgyu asked quietly, a change from his usual talkative self.

You paused, then kept stringing the dried peels, berries, and popcorn. “Yes. I do think they would. As long as you showed that you were willing to learn.”

“They’re the coolest,” Yeonjun said, awe in his voice. “Whenever we heard about them at the temple, Taehyun, Huening, and I would then go and look for every video and article on it we could find on the library computer. They’re so well trained and they work so well together.”

You smiled a little. “I don’t know that they would be able to help you all train your powers. There are similarities with some of your powers and theirs, but there are also differences.”

“But they’ve worked this long in working together despite differences in their powers,” Taehyun countered. “We have a lot to learn about working together.”

You nodded slowly. “That’s true. They are exceptional when it comes to teamwork. They’re a family, but they also have a heirarchy. They know who is calling the shots. They have a specific purpose that they are devoted to.”

“You?” Beomgyu guessed, grinning and ducking when you threw popcorn at him.

“No, you imp. They want a world that’s better than the one they were born into. They were best suited to fighting those who would tear the world down to make it their own. Trying to make life better for supers like you boys,” You said softly, reaching over to push Huening’s hair from his eyes so he could actually see what he was doing.

Soobin nodded. “And what do you focus on?”

“The little things,” You answered, pulling a clip from one of your non-archive storage spaces and pulling Huening Kai’s hair away from his face. “Small robberies, hostage situations now and then, children, children’s homes. As Nightingale, anyway. But as an archivist…the scope of my job varies greatly from day to day. The overlap is very present though, which makes what I do a little more fulfilling than just…collecting things that will collect dust while staying a safe distance from the world.”

Beomgyu set a snack beside you just as you were thinking you should get one. “But…you’re known for being a fighter. I mean, you practically died to save the town. They built a monument to you.”

You shrugged. “The memories of the populace are short-lived. So distracted by every new thing, attention spans shortened by the speed with which needs are satisfied. It was the first big fight I’d ever participated in. And I…wasn’t exactly alive when they got me to the hospital. I had to leave for a while after that, I stopped by the temple for a little bit to be healed completely, then I went and just did my job as an archivist. Laying low.”

“Because it was your family,” Taehyun said, then his eyes widened. “Sorry, I—”

“Relax, Taehyun, it’s okay. I know you don’t purposely pry into my life.” You rested a hand on your stomach where the baby was pushing their little foot out, quickly reaching over and grabbing Yeonjun’s hand to guide it there since he was the only one who hadn’t been able to feel the baby so far. It usually pulled away just before he got to feel it, and lately it had been a little less active. Still moving, but not trying to push it’s foot into your lungs or kick your ribs.

His eyes were huge. “She’s really sticking it out there.”

“He,” Huening Kai countered playfully, not willing to let his hyung have the satisfaction.

“It’s a girl,” Yeonjun scoffed.

“Boy,” Taehyun immediately argued, tossing a piece of popcorn at the eldest.

You rolled your eyes. “Boys, at this rate, we’ll never have the tree decorated and I’ll have to cancel Christmas.”

Beomgyu and Soobin’s eyes got huge and they quickly shushed the other three who weren’t completely ready to give up—especially Huening Kai.

Until Soobin pointed at him and directly sent a wave of peace into him, then did the same with the other two. “String the popcorn.”

“Yeah, I’m not missing my first Christmas just because you guys were fighting,” Beomgyu added sternly. He set more supplies in front of them, then continued cutting the dried orange peels into stars.

The other boys quickly set back to work.

You laughed softly. “I wouldn’t actually cancel Christmas, you know that, right?”

“Not worth the risk,” Soobin said, waving a hand to dismiss it.

You shook your head, still smiling. They were adorable, and you doted on them more than you expected to. Part of you blamed the hormones, but you also knew it was because they were so young, and because they had all been through a lot in their lives. You’d doted on Soobin before all of this, but now you were seeing him grow with these other boys.

Made you feel old, and you really weren’t that old.

Huening Kai was just a baby, too. A cutie-pie who needed to be protected at all costs.

They all were, really.

Beomgyu looked at you strangely. “Are you okay? I’m sensing something…weird.”

“I’m fine?” You answered, shrugging. You picked at the snack, looking over the garland before tying it off. “Soobin, go put this on the tree.”

He got up and took it, pausing.

“Start from the top, wrap it around in a way the looks pretty, working toward the bottom and keeping in mind that there will be a few more strands.” You scrunched your nose as a sort of tightness   pressed on your stomach.

Huening Kai was trying to remember the words to a Christmas song, debating with Yeonjun playfully until you went to get your songbook to settle the matter since they were just making it worse.

You got up slowly, wincing a little. Your ankles were swollen and your feet hurt. So did your back. You’d been doing easy exercises to strengthen your body as the pregnancy progressed, but it still didn’t do much to help since the doctor you were seeing in the town nearby had told you to take it easy. You weren’t strictly on bed-rest, but she wanted you to act as much like you were as possible, and the boys had been making sure you obeyed.

You found the book, but instead of going out, you stared at the book, looking at the doodle Jimin had drawn on the front.

He had been teasing you, mostly because he knew what you had gotten Tae for Christmas, while he had been hand-drawing cards for the other boys and his marker had slipped onto the book he was using as a hard surface—your Christmas music. So, to make it up to you, he had turned the mark into a cute little snowman.

That was the year that you had gotten Yeontan for Taehyung.

You missed the domesticity of your life with the boys. You wanted them here.

You wanted them freaking out when they felt the baby kick for the first time, or staring at the ultrasound and asking you what was what again and again. Freaking out if you so much as got out of bed when they weren’t sure if you were supposed to or not. Reading the books with you, freaking out when you made them find out exactly what happens during birth. Fighting over who would get to be with you during the birth of the baby. How they would handle the hospital.

But that wasn’t possible.

“Y/n!” Soobin called, sounding alarmed.

Then Beomgyu hurried in. “There’s a group approaching, Hueningkai says they’re armed.”

“Okay, remember the plan. Stick to the plan.” You tossed aside the book, running through your repertoire of songs that wouldn’t accidentally harm the boys while you were trying to help keep them safe. Your powers were somewhat unpredictable lately, so you had to play it as safely as possible.

“Y/n, I don’t think you should,” Beomgyu said, grabbing your arm. “You’re health is different than even earlier this morning. Please just let us take care of you. I know it’s not in your nature, but it’s necessary. This is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

You slowly nodded, then stepped back. “Alright. But I’m establishing the communication network.”

Beomgyu nodded.

You hummed the song you’d come up with a couple weeks ago, which melded the various powers of you and the boys to form a sort of mental communication to each other. It was the safest song you had right now. “Update.”

“Four men to the south, three to the west, two to the east,” Hueningkai said.

“I’ll get the ones on the south,” Yeonjun said. “Blind the ones to the west.”

“I’ve got the ones to the east,” Soobin told them. “Hold until we know their intentions.”

You nodded, silently agreeing with Soobin’s assessment.

Beomgyu sat beside you, listening to the boys call out their positions. “We’ll be okay, y/n. Try to relax.”

You glanced at him, but mostly were focusing on sensing out there. The foreign melodies. The inclination toward major or minor melodies and the dissonant or harmonic chords, how it all fit together. “Be ready. They sound more hostile.”

“We’re ready,” Taehyun said. “I’ve got eyes on all of you. Yeonjun, Huening, try to increase the snow-fall to inhibit them more.”

“Got it.”

“Good idea.”

You froze as a foreign feeling washed over you.

Beomgyu looked at you in alarm.

“Boys, maybe put a rush on that,” You told them, getting up and grabbing the go-bag.

“What? Why?” Yeonjun asked.

“My water just broke. We’re going to the hospital.”

“So…loud and messy is okay as long as it’s quick?” Yeonjun asked, sounding a little freaked out.

“Anything to make sure the house is safe and no one follows us to the hospital,” You replied, voice a little sing-song in alarm.

Beomgyu grabbed the other bag and led the way to the garage. “Just do it. She’s a month early and I was right about the contractions.”

Your eyes widened when you heard a crash outside, followed by some screams of terror.

“Okay, just need to bury these guys and then the way is clear.”

Beomgyu shared a scared look with you.

Soobin darted in and hopped into the driver’s seat. “Clear the snow and ice from the roads?”

“Got it, rest of us our outside.”

You held onto the door handle as another contraction came through. “Hurry.” Your eyes filled with tears, and right then, all you wanted was one of your loves. Holding your hand.

But you didn’t get to have that. Not yet.

Beomgyu took your other hand as the other boys hopped into the vehicle. “It’s okay. Just breathe and try to stay calm. Do you want us to contact them?”

“No. It’s too dangerous,” You whispered. “Just keep my baby safe.”

He nodded. “Nothing will happen to the baby. I’m going to be with you and nothing will happen to either of you.”

You rested your other hand on your stomach.

“Soobin-hyung—”

“Got it,” He answered, then an overwhelming sense of peace washed over you. Almost like when Namjoon would use his confession inducement-type power. This was, admittedly, more agreeable.

“Taehyun, Hueningkai and I will set ourselves up around the perimeter and keep an eye out for trouble. Beomgyu will be with you, and Soobin will guard the waiting room. It’s the best we can do at the hospital.”

“I know. Thank you.”

~~~~

Part 14.   Part 16/Final.

Masterlist.  ~  Series Masterpost.  

Tagging: @ephemeral-mindset​, @alex–awesome–22​, @bryvada​, @missmoxxiesworld​, @knjhe, @i-dont-even-know-fck

[the--sound--of--rain]

The Terror Of The Umpty Ums by Steven Moffat - A Review by A Lit. Student

Okay, I’m a little tipsy and very angry, but I’ll try my best not to make this into a rant and actually analyse critically. (Haven’t done that in a long time, since I’m procrastinating all my uni work atm.)

So, this is a short story. Like many short stories, it tries to bring across a certain message. What is this message? That stories can help us fight out inner demons. How do I know that? Right, because a character in the story states the message out loud.

“We’re all stories in the end. But do you know what a story is, David? It’s an idea. And do you know what an idea is? It’s a thought so big and so clever it can outlive you. It can fly out of your head, and into other people’s. Like I’m in your head, right now. Keeping you right. Never cruel, never cowardly. Always the Doctor.”

I’m just... how, how does he keep making this basic mistake? It’s the first thing they tell you in every writing workshop: show, don’t tell.

Let’s continue with the same quote: “We’re all stories in the end.” Really? Come up with new lines, Steven, please. I know, he’s using an iconic line to make the reader feel nostalgic, but it’s just so typically self-indulgent. Same with the last three (or four?) sentences. Let’s say it’s okay to do it once, for nostalgia purposes, but twice in one paragraph? Ridiculous. Also, I can’t help but wonder if those lines were strategically placed at the beginning and end of this paragraph in order to distract from the sloppy writing in the middle. Besides the fact that it is typical Moffat writing, where he’s tries to make the idea he’s trying to express sound like the most important thing in the world, it doesn’t even make sense:

Look at those two sentences: “It can fly out of your head, and into other people’s. Like I’m in your head, right now.” What does this imply? That David’s hearing the Doctor’s voice in his head is comparable to someone reading or hearing a story and then, knowing that story, i.e. having it in their head? David, a child with dissociative identity disorder (Moffat calls it dissociative personality disorder, which I’m not sure is the correct term?), not being able to tell real from unreal, is on the same level as someone enjoying a story? I’m quite sure Moffat didn’t think this through, but that really is no excuse; it’s such a sensitive issue and he writes for children, for god’s sake. (I’ll go more into this in a separate post since I don’t want to make this one too long.)

In connection with this, we’ve got the twist. Many short stories use a twist toward or at the end to either hammer home a point or shock the reader. Moffat chose not to use the twist to hammer home his point, as he had already put it into words so neatly (read with lots of sarcasm please) for the Doctor to say out loud. No, he chose to shock us. (What a surprise.) And to be able to do that, he chose a mentally ill child as his focaliser. Now, I am not saying this is a wrong thing to do. You’ve got to be careful when you do it, but - as with all risky choices - if done well, it can be brilliant.

So, what can/should be achieved by making a certain character the focaliser of your story? The reader feels close to that character and understands how they feel in a quite personal way. Especially with mentally ill characters, I think, perceiving the narrative through their eyes can bring across a very powerful message. Let’s look at the way Moffat showed us how it feels to David to realise he’s only imagining the Doctor’s voice in his head:

It couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t. And yet as he stood there in the cold and the dark he saw that it was as true as anything ever could be. He took another breath of the freezing air and said the words out loud. “I watched you on television.”

Can you feel the weight of the realisation? Because I can’t. David’s mental state is not explored, but used for shock value; a cheap twist that has nothing to do with the message.

And this ties into another thing every writer should know: The form hammers home the contents. Meaning, don’t tell your story from the POV of a mentally ill person if it’s not about mental illness.

I know Moffat would probably say that the story is about mental illness (and how stories can help you deal with it), which, I have to say at this point, is a beautiful concept. But it is executed so poorly that the perspective of the protagonist, who is dealing with the issue the story is supposed to be about, isn’t even used to add anything to it.

No, rather than actually trying to write well, let’s drop about 50 complex-looking technical terms to show that this is a Science-Fiction-Story, can you tell? (Except it’s not, because it’s all in David’s head) and then throw in another ‘The Doctor is so great, he is the greatest being in the universe’-speech, just for good measure. “The oncoming storm, the bringer of darkness, the imp of the Pandorica! The final victor of the Time War.” Uuh, wow, never heard all that before, have we?

And then there’s the fact that most of the dialogue is cringey and completely unnatural, which I understand it is bound to be, because the situation is unnatural, but then maybe it’s not the most brilliant choice to let the story be led by that dialogue. Although I understand why he did it, because the non-dialogue parts...

Karpagnon steeled himself and opened the door. The cold air filled his lungs. The wind rushed in the trees, and distantly there was the sound of traffic. The sky was packed with clouds but the moon peeked through.

Remind me of the way I used to write when I was about 13. I won’t go into detail on this, but just note that three sentences in a row start with “the” and the only two linkers used are “and” and “but”. For the sake of fairness, however, not all those parts are that bad.

But there’s another thing, that just made me go... What?

You see, that’s the story of the music, I always think. The Umpty-Ums, that’s the noise of the monsters. But then it goes Woo-Hoo. I think the Woo-Hoo is me riding to the rescue.”

The whole music-analogy. What does it add to the plot or the message? What does it even mean? And why, why, is it in the title?

He then proceeds to base the very last line on this same idea:

“I get very scared sometimes,” he said.

“Woo-hoo,” said the Doctor.

I think what he is trying to convey, here, is that the Doctor is riding to the rescue. But it seems so forced and strange, it reads a bit like the ending of a first draft.

To sum up, Moffat had a nice idea: He wanted to express that stories can help us through difficult times. And although he certainly isn’t the best writer with all the skills, I’m fairly convinced this could have been a touching story - were he not so insufferably arrogant. He didn’t take the time to think about how he could bring across his message in a meaningful way and instead wrote it out in a half-baked dramatic speech. Doing this, he did not consider the weight of the topic he was discussing, leading to implications that are outright insulting to people struggling with mental illness. He favoured horror over sensibility and far-fetched metaphors over a strong core, resulting in a difficult-to-read mess.

A piece of advice to all young writers (and this is more important than any other tip I’ve mentioned): Do not take your work - and yourself - too seriously and never stop trying to be better. Believe me I made this mistake too; when I was starting out, I thought I was the writer. I only started really getting better when I accepted that I wasn’t perfect; most of the time, I wasn’t even good. All art is flawed. If we accept that, we can create something beautiful.

Feel free to bring up anything to me that you disagree (or agree) with; I love discussing views and interpretations. Have a good day and stay healthy xx

[catherinestark-hphm]

The template belongs to @hogwartsmysterystory​

IDENTITY

Updated for Year 3 (NEW INFO ABOUT ADRIEN’S FAMILY ADDED)

Name: Adrien Isidore Marius Reyes

Gender: Cisgender Male

Age:  13/14 [currently]

Birth Date: February 11th, 1972

Species: Human

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Sexuality: Bisexual

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Ethnicity: Caucasian

Nationality: British

Residence: Alfriston, East Sussex, UK

Myer Briggs Personality Type: ESTJ-A (The Executive)

THE MAGE

1st Wand: Alder Wood | Phoenix Feather Core | 12 ¼" | Surprisingly Swishy Flexibility

Whilst Alder makes for an unyielding wood, its ideal owner is not stubborn or obstinate, but often helpful, considerate and most likeable, which is strange since Adrien can be the most stubborn person ever.

Whereas most wand woods seek similarity in the characters of those they will best serve, alder is unusual in that it seems to desire a nature that is, if not precisely opposite to its own, then certainly of a markedly different type. When an alder wand is happily placed, it becomes a magnificent, loyal helpmate. Of all wand types, alder is best suited to non-verbal spell work, whence comes its reputation for being suitable only for the most advanced witches and wizards. Alder is also excellent for protection against outside forces, and, when combined with phoenix feather, is a suitable match for a wizard who will "make their mark on this world".

It is most suitable for Defense Against the Dark Arts and will most often choose Light Wizards, especially Gryffindors, but is not uncommon among Ravenclaws.

Alder is extremely rare, as many wandmakers will refuse to take wood from alder wood. The ‘bleeding’, turning from white to red, is considered to be inauspicious.

Phoenix Feather is one of the rarest core types. They are capable of the greatest range of magic, though they may take longer than either unicorn hair or dragon heartstring cores to reveal this. They show the most initiative, sometimes acting of their own accord, a quality that many witches and wizards dislike. Phoenix wands are always the pickiest when it comes to potential owners, for the creature from which they are taken is one of the most independent and detached in the world. These wands are the hardest to tame and to personalize, and their allegiance is usually hard-won.

Animagus: Brown Dog

Misc Magical Abilities: (TBA)

Boggart Form: His parents with their backs on him, whispering about how amazing and talented Jacob was and wishing Adrien never existed.  

Riddikulus Form: His parents dressed with clown outfits and shoving a pie in each other’s faces.

Amortentia (What do they smell like?): Burning logs and dark chocolate being melted.

Amortentia (What do they smell?): The sweet scent of chocolate and caramel, the fruity smell of freshly cut oranges, and peppermint.

Patronus: Lince. 

Patronus Memory: When he got his Hogwarts letter and finally began having his own life. 

Mirror of Erised: Adrien surrounded by a crowd that is cheering him. Even his parents are there, looking at him as if they were looking at Jacob instead.

Specialized/Favourite Spells:

- Flipendo

- Lumus

- Depulso

- Rictusempra

- Expelliarmus

- Alohomora

APPEARANCE

Faceclaim: (I don’t have one lmao)

Game Appearance: 

Height: 5ft 4.5in (163.8 cm) Weight: 7st 14lb  (50.8 kg) Physique:

- Ever since he started Quidditch, there as been more muscle in his arms and Adrien was shook when he noticed it after showering.

Eyes:

- Baby blue coloured.

- Almond-shaped, just like his mother’s and Jacob’s.

Hair:

- Dark brown

- Short and lazily brushed sideways

- The only time his mom pays attention to him is when she takes him out to cut his hair — she hates long hair on men. Which is ironic, because Jacob has now long hair.

Skin Tone:

- Fair.

- But it gets tanned during summer because Adrien spends his summer days outside. Scarring: N/A Fashion Choices:

Adrien is a casual boy that also leans into sporty wear. But sometimes he likes to dress up just for the compliments.

- His colours of choice are red, golden, blue, white and brown.

Inventory:

- His wand

- Dumbombs

- Peppermint Imps

- Connor (his toad sometimes sleeps inside his robe’s pocket)

ALLEGIANCES

Hogwarts House:

- Gryffindor

Affiliations/Organizations: - Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

- Gryffindor House

- Gryffindor Quidditch Team

- Reyes Family

Professions: (TBA)

HOGWARTS INFORMATION:

Class Proficiency:

Charms: ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ Flying: ★★★★★★★★★☆ Herbology: ★★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Potions: ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ Transfiguration: ★★★★★★★★☆☆

Electives:

- Care of Magical Creatures

- Muggle Studies

Quidditch:

- Currently a Chaser

- Trying out to be a seeker.

Extra Curricular: - Duelling Club Member

- Ghoul Studies

Favourite Professors:

- Madam Hooch: Adrien likes the way she hurries her students to learn how to fly and he actually likes how strict she sometimes is — it helps him concentrate more on his flying and become a better student during her classes. He knows that she can be caring and gentle as well, and during his process of trying out for Quidditch she gave him lots of advice and encouraged Adrien to challenge himself with his broom. Adrien loves seeing her smiling approvingly at him whenever his team wins a friendly, it’s one of the reasons why he has never lost a friendly to this day.

- Professor McGonagall: Adrien has immense respect for the head of his house. The only time he actually studied for a subject was for Transfiguration. He wanted to prove himself that he could be better at it than Jacob, but then he started doing just to make her proud. She (and Hooch) is the only one that can truly make him feel nervous when he’s caught pranking and even though Adrien tries to ignore her disappointed expression, he feels bad and always ends up apologizing, even when he knows he can’t get out of detention.

Least Favourite Professors:

- Professor Snape: Adrien dislikes him because of how unfair he is towards Gryffindors sometimes. That’s all. Adrien actually likes his dry, sarcastic jabs and when Snape is impatient with Adrien, the brunette purposely puts the wrong ingredients in the cauldron just to peeve him further.  

RELATIONSHIPS

Brother: Jacob Reyes. Father: Archibald Reyes. Mother: Matilda Reyes. (neé Longbottom) Other Household Member: (Ezekiel, Lilith, Jacov, and Corbyn belong to @caustic-curses​)

- Lawrence Reyes: Adrien’s deceased paternal grandfather. He never met him so Adrien doesn’t have an opinion about him.

- Gustava Reyes (neé Sheridan): Adrien’s deceased paternal grandmother. She died when Adrien was six years old, he doesn’t remember much about her but all he has are memories of him waking up in her house and smelling freshly baked goods. He knows she loved him, and sometimes Adrien finds himself crying whenever he holds on to that memory.

- Ezekiel Reyes: Adrien’s paternal uncle. Adrien really likes his uncle and thinks he doesn’t deserve the wife he has. Ezekiel has always been nice and kind to Adrien and he truly respects and looks up to his uncle more than he does to his own father. 

- Lilith Roandre: Hates her. Adrien has never disliked someone so much like his aunt. She doesn’t deserve her kind husband or Corbyn. Adrien thinks she’s just so... shady. He feels like that this mean, awful woman is hiding a dark secret from everyone. Whenever he visits Corbyn, he always stands up to her when she starts showing her hatred towards his cousin--he’s not afraid of her. And he completely hopes she disappears one day to allow his uncle and cousin to be happy.

- Jacov Reyes: Adrien’s cousin. He and Jacov were never close. There was a joke between Archibald and Ezekiel when naming their firstborn sons, but Adrien always thought it was stupid. However, he did like whenever Jacov kept his mom away from Corbyn and him when he was visiting. 

- Corbyn Reyes: Adrien’s favourite cousin. The two were always close because of their equal personality to cause mischief and pranks. Even when they were sorted in conflicting houses, the two remained close and always had each other’s backs. Corbyn sees Adrien as a bit of a good mess so to speak. But his cousin’s loyalty and good nature would be what keeps him in good graces. Adrien helps him with the scamming but makes Corbyn promise to never tell anyone, and Corbyn, of course, wouldn't say a word about him helping. He doesn't want anyone to know he needed help in the first place. Adrien is a dog Animagi and Corbyn is a cat. They are Gryffindor and Slytherin. But the two are very close, much like brothers could be. That’s what Adrien sees in Corbyn instead of Jacob, a brother. 

- Bernard Longbottom: Adrien’s maternal uncle. Adrien was saddened when he heard that his only uncle passed away. He taught Adrien how to swim and even gave him his first broom on his seventh birthday. Adrien loved his uncle so much that he kept the photo that they took on the lake near his house when Adrien was four years old.

- Augusta Longbottom: Adrien’s maternal aunt. Adrien likes the way she gives mutual attention to both him and Jacob. She can be a little strict and Adrien is always annoyed when she scolds him, telling him to arch his back straighter, but he knows she does it out of love. He does like to see what kind of hat she’ll bring to family lunches – but never makes fun of her. Augusta may be a little severe with her words but Adrien feels wanted around her, so he just sits and listens to whatever she has to complain about – either is the dirt on his shoes or about his messy hair.

- Frank Longbottom: Adrien’s cousin. Not only Adrien was shocked and saddened by what happened to his cousin, but he was also angry and vengeful at the dark wizards and witch who did it. The two might have an age-gap between but that never stopped them from getting along. Frank was always there to give him advice and comfort him through kind words in their exchange of letters. Adrien dutifully visits his cousin and his wife every week during his summer vacation and spends at least two hours with them, talking aimlessly and telling them about his school year.

- Alice Longbottom: Frank’s wife. Adrien liked Alice the moment she met her. She was brave and full of life and Adrien was happy that his cousin had found someone like her. He was saddened by the news of what happened to her, and he always brings a bouquet of flowers for her to keep whenever he visits them in St. Mungus. He has been noticing that Alice does keep the flowers, on a vase near the window. Some of them are already dead but she never allows anyone to trash them.

- Neville Longbottom: Adrien’s second cousin. He hasn’t seen him much, but Adrien promised himself to go visit his aunt Augusta this summer to properly meet the little guy.

Love Interest(s):

- While Adrien technically doesn’t fancy anyone, he has been thinking about Merula a lot nowadays, like how pretty she looked with her usual smug expression or her stupid (not adorable) orange part of her hair.

- He thinks Penny Haywood is very beautiful. Sometimes he has to concentrate not to stutter around her.

- He certainly was caught by Rowan staring at Murphy for too long, Adrien just thinks Murphy’s blabbering is brilliant—and also that his hair is so cool and soft.

Best Friends:

- Rowan Khanna

- Ben Copper

- Penny Haywood

- Tulip Karasu

- Jae Kim

Rival:

- Merula Snyde

- Ismelda Munk

- Jacob Reyes

Enemy: (TBA)

Pets:

- Connor (toad)

- Turner (Cat)

Closest Canon Friends:

- Rowan Khanna

- Ben Copper

- Tulip Karasu

- Nymphadora Tonks

- Penny Haywood

- Bill Weasley

- Skye Parkin

Closest OC Friends:

Closest MC Friends:

- Corbyn Reyes

[simeonaut]

The Dusk Colored Cat

note: new account, so no one will probably see this till after. Oh well. I tried.

On a sunny afternoon in the village of Lot, a boy of twelve decided to go into the nearby forest to read. After letting his father know where he will be for the rest of the day, he grabbed his bag and left.

On his way there, he encountered some of his friends playing on the streets.

One of them called out to him. "Simeon! Come join us!"

"I can't, Roger. I want to go to the forest."

Roger's eyes widened at that. "You shouldn't go, there's a werewolf there!"

"Who told you that?"

"My mother. I told her we wanted to play there and she said we can't because the werewolves will eat us.”

Simeon barely managed to hold back his laughter. "I'll be fine, Roger. I'll be careful."

Wishing them well, he left. He made his way through the streets and past the cheerful looking houses, heading to the forest beyond.

Lot forest. Most of the town's elders insist that it was enchanted. They claim to have witnessed strange lights there from time to time, and that it was an unnatural place. Simeon's father, however, believes that ghosts and fairy tales are not real and encouraged his forays into the forest. Simeon believed some of the elder's stories, but he wasn't about to tell him that.

Just outside the forest lay the witch's hut. It was tall and round, with the roof reminding one of the tip of a sharpened pencil. Somewhere along that roof was a hole where white smoke billowed out.

Simeon met the witch when he first ventured into the forest. She was kind and would sometimes offer to give him vegetables and plants from the garden beside her hut, which he always politely declined.

Today, the witch was tending her garden. "Good afternoon," Simeon said.

"Good afternoon, young man." she answered back, standing straight and giving him her full attention.

"Is it true that there is a werewolf here in the forest?" He asked, figuring she would know.

"Yes," she answered. "But you don't have to worry. That cat of yours will protect you."

"How could my cat protect me?"

"He's special." The witch said.

"What do you mean? Is he really magic?"

"Certainly, knowing where he's from. Now you'd best be on your way, young man. I still have some gardening to do."

The cat she was referring to was Nox, Simeon's cat. His fur was as dark as the starless night and his eyes shone like emeralds. Simeon would have happily taken the cat home with him, but the cat refused to leave the forest.

The witch also insisted that the cat told her his name was Fluffy. This was the one time Simeon chose not to listen to her.

Reassured that he would be safe for the time being, Simeon went into the forest and started walking down the path that would take him to the clearing.

The clearing was Simeon's safe place. Birds chirped and the wind rustled the leaves, providing a comfortable kind of quiet and peace that could not be found anywhere in the village. The trees were high enough to provide shade in the afternoon, and the surrounding area was covered in grass. A small pond is in the middle, with numerous flat stones surrounding it.

It was a neat little paradise.

Arriving into the clearing, he saw the cat which has been his friend for several months now.

The cat was lying down on one of the stones surrounding the pond. It faced the pond and looked there expectantly, as if waiting for something to surface.

This behavior was normal for Nox. Simeon sat on the grass nearby, then pulled out his book and started reading.

***

A few hours later, someone walked into the clearing. A tall lady with tawny skin and dark brown hair. She looked worried as she approached the boy. That changed, however, when she saw the cat. With a smile that could melt butter, she knelt next to Nox and started petting his fur.

The cat looked at her and for a moment it seemed as if the cat was assessing her. Finding nothing wrong, he went back to staring at the pond.

"Is he your cat?" asked the tall lady.

"Yes, but he lives here." Simeon said.

"What's his name?" the tall lady asks, standing up.

"Nox. It means night" he replied.

She nodded. "He has such beautiful eyes."

You do too, he thought. Warm brown eyes.

She took a seat on the grass next to him. "My name is Nat. What's yours?" she asked.

"Simeon," I said.

"I hate to worry you Simeon, but have you seen any strange people around this forest lately?" she asked, making herself comfortable.

"No, not really. Why? Is anyone in trouble?" He asked.

As if sensing Simeon's discomfort, the cat went over to him and jumped on his lap.

"I'm looking for a werewolf," Nat said. "They say there's one around this forest somewhere."

"I haven't actually seen one, but the witch told me there was." He replied.

"The witch?" she asks.

"Yes. She lives nearby," he placed his book back in his bag. "Why are you looking for the werewolf? Isn't it dangerous?"

"They might need help," she said. "Tell me more about this witch."

"She seems to be very old and she knows a lot about this forest. Would you like to meet her? She might be able to help you."

"That might be a good idea," she said with her warm smile. "Would you take me to her?"

He agreed. However, before they managed to leave the clearing, something blocked their way.

***

They were quite short, no taller than Simeon. Strangely, they looked more like walking plants than people. Their bodies seem to be made out of twigs and leaves. When they saw Simeon, they loped toward him like branches swaying back and forth with the breeze.

"Get behind me," Nat said.

There were seven of them. "What are they?" He asked Nat.

"Forest imps, I think. I've never actually seen their kind before."

Simeon wondered briefly on what kinds she had seen before.

"We're here for the werewolf." one of the imps said.

Another was holding something that looked like a blue wooden stick. This he pointed at Simeon carefully, and as they watched, it glowed bright. "It's him!"

"You're the werewolf?" Nat asked him, surprised. Before he can answer, she faced the imps and said "Never mind. The boy is under my protection."

"Step aside vampire. He's ours."

Suddenly, the strangest thing happened. The cat leaped off Simeon's arms and walked straight toward the imps. Surprised, they shuffled back.

The cat suddenly grew in size. He got furrier and his head changed shape. He growled.

The cat was no longer a cat. It was a wolf.

Before they could react properly to this turn of events, the wolf that was a cat lunged forward and attacked. Biting and clawing, he quickly injured two of the imps and was about to attack a third.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Nat moved to attack. Faster than anyone can see, she rushed forward to the other imps and took them down.

A moment later, they started fleeing.

The wolf, sensing that the danger has passed, shrunk down in size and morphed back into a cat. He then walked to Simeon's side.

Nat gave Simeon a look that managed to be equally stern and concerned. It was impressive. "Did you know your cat was a werewolf?" She asked, placing her hands deep in her pockets.

He shook his head. He was just as surprised as she was. "I knew he's not from this world, but that's all."

"What do you mean? How did you know that?"

He shook his head once more, refusing to answer her question.

She muttered something that sounded like "Darn, an Echolian cat," and closed her eyes. She started pacing.

She reminded him of how he sometimes felt when presented with a tough choice. It made him worried.

Finally, she stopped pacing and said "I'm sorry, Simeon. I have to take the cat. He needs to be protected."

"He can take care of himself," he said, placing himself between her and Nox. "He belongs here."

If you have asked him why, he could not have told you. He only knows that Nox belongs in the forest like how the moon belongs to the night sky.

The cat was a gift from his friend from another world. The witch was right. It was special, to him and to the forest.

"Please, Simeon. We can take good care of him. He'll be fine. I promise." Nat said, approaching slowly.

"You're a vampire," Simeon said, remembering the imp's words earlier. "I can't trust you."

She winced at that. "It's my job to protect supernaturals."

Realizing that he won't be able to convince her to leave the cat alone, he drew a wand out of his bag. Another gift from his friend, one that he knew was magical.

"That's a fae wand." Nat said, surprised. She took a step back.

He waved the wand high above his head and flicked it downwards.

The birds stopped chirping.

The leaves stopped rustling.

His ears were suddenly drowned in silence. The general peaceful noise of the forest gave way to an unbearable quiet as everything nearby stilled.

Nat stood motionless, surprise on her face.

"Thanks, Taida," he said quietly as he held his cat and ran.

***

A few minutes later, he was outside the forest. The witch was standing at the path. It looked like she has been waiting there for years, and could wait for a few years more.

"Someone is after you," she said.

"A vampire. She wants my cat. My cat is a werewolf."

"Yes," she said.

"She says she'll protect my cat. She wants to take him away. I didn't let her."

"No, you didn't." She agreed. "He belongs here."

"Will you take care of him? I can't take him home."

The witch seemed to consider this request for a moment. Then she said "Yes, of course. Come inside, Fluffy."

The cat jumped down from his arms and after giving him a look of farewell, went into the witch's hut.

Simeon took out his wand and handed it to the witch. "I can't keep this," he said.

"But it helped you," she said.

"Yes, but I don't like it. It doesn't feel right."

She nodded, taking the wand. "You better head home, young man. I'll talk to the vampire." She walked back into her hut.

Breathing a sigh of relief, he went home.

***

The first thing the witch did was snap the wand in two and toss it into the fire. Then she sat on a chair by the fire and waited.

The cat stared at the burning pieces of the wand with the same intensity as when he was staring at the pond, as if he was expecting something to happen. This time however, something did. The fire roared higher and glowed green and purple and dark red.

"Dangerous magic," The witch said to the cat. "I don't know why you let him keep it, Fluffy. Not a good idea for a boy to have a supernatural weapon."

The cat made a sound, as if telling the witch it wasn't his idea.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," the witch said.

The door opened slowly and a tall lady walked in. Seeing the witch, she immediately asks, "Do you know Simeon? The boy? He has a fae wand. It could be dangerous."

"Yes," the witch gestured towards the fire where bits of the wand were still aflame. The magic of the wand was still giving the fire strange colors. "He was wise to finally give it to me."

The lady breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."

"Do take a seat," the witch said, standing up and walking to something that resembled a kitchen. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes please," the lady said, sitting on another chair. That was when she noticed the cat, staring at her.

The witch hands her her tea and goes back to her seat. "The cat does not need protection. He's very capable of protecting himself and those he cares about, don't you think?"

"Yes, but he could be a danger to others."

"The cat has never left the forest ever since he came to this world."

"So you know of him being from another world?"

"Yes. Simeon accidentally stumbled into another world a few months ago. He managed to come back and brought the cat back with him."

The lady seemed impressed. "How did it happen?"

The witch smiled. "Let me tell you a story."

-------

@otomefandomevents

[thegayfromrulid]

Give the Yuukisuna fluff of I will become your sleep paralysis demon

Please don’t become my sleep paralysis demon- it’s usually a spider ;-; One-shot below the cut! 

           The last thing she’d expected whenshe opened the door to come home was to be blatantly teased by her girlfriend. Shehadn’t even realized that Asuna had beaten her home. Yuuki had just gotten backfrom a hasty grocery run and greeted Asuna like she always did. And it promptedthe sort of tease that made her want to toss something back at her.

“You’re so short!”

           Of course, the teasing jab was meantas nothing more than that—a tease—but Yuuki’s cheeks puffed up at the mentionof being short. She wasn’t that muchshorter than Asuna. In the context of the situation, Yuuki had propped herselfup on her tiptoes ever-so-slightly to touch her nose to her girlfriend’s. Itwas something she’d started doing ever since they’d moved in together. Thisvery action made Asuna giggle and resort to this comment. She hadn’t made itbefore, but she was bold enough to do so now. Asuna poked one of her puffed-upcheeks and giggled again.

           “Don’t take it personally,” shesaid. “You’re the perfect size for me.”

           Yuuki squinted at her and placed herhands on her hips. She made a point of standing up to her full height when shedid so. Asuna, too, straightened up, as if to nullify the effects of herdisplay of stature.

           “I’m not short!” she insisted.

           Perhaps she was a little shorterthan her avatar in ALO. That was to be expected. Unlike Asuna, whose avatar waspretty much the same height as she was in the real world, Yuuki was just a bitshorter than her Imp character. She couldn’t really help that—Asuna’s avatarwas a copy of her old SAO one, therefore it looked just like her (except alittle bluer). Her avatar, on the other hand, was a completely original avatarthat didn’t look too much like her. As if to add to the embarrassment of beingcalled short, Asuna rested a hand atop Yuuki’s head and smiled.

           “Don’t rub it in!” she said.

           She bopped her hands on Asuna’s armplayfully, hoping she might move it. Of course, Asuna did no such thing. Shekept her hand firmly planted on Yuuki’s head, going so far as to even ruffleher hair a bit. Yuuki finally just dropped her arms, giving in to her currentpredicament. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she gazed up at Asuna’s smug expression.

           “What, don’t you like being theshort one?” Asuna teased.

           She wrapped her arms around Yuukifrom behind and tucked her up against her chest. Yuuki’s irritation andembarrassment subsided. She sank into Asuna’s arms and sighed. There was nodenying it—this was certainly a perk of being the smaller girlfriend. She fitjust perfectly into Asuna’s arms. This made cuddling quite comfortable, especiallyin the winter when it was cold; Asuna’s body heat would envelop her and makeher feel safe and cozy.

However.

           “Sometimes I wouldn’t mind being thebig spoon,” she mumbled.

           Asuna laughed. The image seemedsilly, now that she thought about it. The short one being the big spoon? It wouldbe terribly unbalanced. But she still wanted to do it. She had to remindherself, once again, that they weren’t thatdifferent in regard to height. How come Asuna got to have all of the bigspoon fun? It was her turn to be in this glorious snuggling position! Shetwisted out of her arms and placed her hands on her hips as she faced Asuna.

           “I’m going to try it!” sheannounced.

           Her girlfriend lifted one eyebrow inquestion. The smile on her face told her that she didn’t think Yuuki wasone-hundred percent serious—but she was. She was definitely going to try this,so long as Asuna agreed to it. Yuuki flashed her the most confident smile shecould muster up. Asuna’s expression changed ever-so-slightly. She knew herpartner was serious now.

           “To the bed!” Yuuki said. “I’ll provethat I’m not only good with a sword, but also with a spoon!”

           Asuna rolled her eyes. She gaveYuuki another pat on the head. Yuuki couldn’t read this expression. She lookeda bit tired, but somehow also amused. Without giving so much as a hint, Asunasmirked at Yuuki as she posed her next teasing statement.

           “Are you sure you’re up for thissort of challenge?” she asked. “Spooning is a lot different than a sword-fight.”

           Yuuki gave her best sarcastic laugh.How could Asuna be so silly? Of course, she knew that! Sword-fighting wasn’tthe only thing she was good at. And she’d been the little spoon so many timesshe knew what Asuna was doing in order to be the big spoon. How hard did shethink this could be? Yuuki shook her head. She wasn’t going to just step downbased on such a statement.

           “I doubt being the big spoon couldbe more challenging than going head-to-head with the Black Swordsman—and Iwhooped his tail!”

           That resulted in yet another gigglefrom Asuna, likely from her remembering the event. It was then that Yuuki hadconfessed her feelings to Asuna—right after she’d bested her former boyfriendin combat.  Jokingly, she liked to tellpeople that it was then that Asuna found true love. (But she and Kirito had nohard feelings, for sure!) Now, it was just an amusing memory that may or maynot have boosted her ego.

           “I take my title of ‘AbsoluteSword’ very seriously,” she said. “Just as I will with this challenge.”

           Asuna took her time strolling intothe bedroom, as if to mess with Yuuki even more. She sat down on the bed and dramaticallysprawled across it, letting out an over-emphasized sigh. Opening one eye, shesmiled over at Yuuki and patted the bed beside her.

           “Well? Are you going to show me the ‘AbsoluteBig Spoon’ or no?” she asked.

           “Are you making fun of my title?”Yuuki asked.

           Asuna shook her head.

           “No, but I most certainly am holingyou to it,” she said. “Are you going to show me what you’re got? Or no?”

           The two locked eyes, both intenselytesting the other. This had shifted from mere teasing into the realm of anactual challenge now. Yuuki stood up to her full height and lifted her chin.Asuna did her best to hold in a laugh. Without missing a beat, Yuuki clearedher throat and thrust one hand forward.

           “I will now use my two-part MaritalArts Skill, Yuuki Spoon, on you!” she cried.

           “D-don’t you mean ‘martial’?” Asunastammered.

           Yuuki dashed forward.

           “Nope! Because you’re gonna be mywife!” she exclaimed.

           With that, she dove onto the bed, causingAsuna to yelp in surprise. She hadn’t been expecting a tackle. With heroff-guard like this, Yuuki grinned and took her open opportunity. She posed herhands on Asuna’s sides and started to tickle her. Asuna squirmed and shriekedwith laughter.

           “Th-this isn’t sp-spooning!” shelaughed, trying to speak in between gasps.

           “No, but it’s fun!” Yuuki said. “You’reso ticklish! Besides, it’s punishment for calling me short!”

           Asuna started to tear up fromlaughing too hard. She kept tickling her until her arms started to grow tired.When she released Asuna from her punishment, she waited for her to catch herbreath before she slipped down onto the bed. Glancing over her shoulder, Asunamade sure to roll onto her side so that Yuuki had her chance to be the bigspoon. The chance was now! She had to take advantage of this moment to fulfillthe challenge.

           Yuuki snuggled up against Asuna andwrapped one arm around her. Their height wasn’t so different that it madethings awkward, much to Yuuki’s delight. She buried her face in Asuna’schestnut hair. It smelled like her floral shampoo. To top it all off, she slippedone leg between Asuna’s and cuddled her closer.

           “Mm…I suppose you really are the ‘AbsoluteBig Spoon,’ aren’t you?” Asuna said, chuckling. “You’re quite comfy. This is nice.”

           She shifted a bit in Yuuki’s arms.It was a strange new sensation for her. Was this what Asuna felt when sheadjusted herself as the little spoon? Her cheeks filled with heat, but this time,not from embarrassment. She thought about the position they were in now and wasa bit flustered. This was a special moment. For once, Asuna was in her arms. It made the joy in her heartbegin to overflow.

           “I think we should just shorten itto ‘Absolute Spoon,’” she suggested. “After all, I’m clearly fully capable ofbeing both the big and little spoon.That’s what makes me absolute.”

           Asuna chuckled.

           “You’re so silly,” she mumbled.

           Her voice was very soft, as if shewere falling asleep. Yuuki lifted her head just enough to gaze at Asuna. Hereyes started to slip closed. She really was starting to doze off. Things had tobe done. They couldn’t just lay here forever.

           “Hey, don’t space out on me!” Yuukiwhined. “We still have to make dinner!”

           She gently shook Asuna’s shoulder,trying to rouse her a bit. She opened her eyes a little. Asuna shook her head. Shegroaned.

           “Just let me rest right here in yourarms for a little while longer,” she said.

           Her voice sounded pleading. Asuna’sday must have been tiring. Yuuki frowned and squeezed her gently, trying togive her a hug of support while already spooning her. Asuna placed her hand onYuuki’s and started to stroke the back of it with her thumb. Her eyes startedto close again.

           “Is everything okay?” Yuuki asked.

           Her partner heaved a sigh. She tensedup a little.

           “It’s just…mother.”

           Asuna’s mother was typically a sorespot. She was a bit old-fashioned and still didn’t quite get both Asuna’sdesire for independence and her choice to date another girl. Yuuki could sensefrom the tone of her voice that her love must have had a difficult conversationwith her mother again. It happened semi-frequently, but it didn’t usually leaveher this stressed. No wonder she’d tried to be in a joking mood when Yuuki gothome. She’d needed a distraction from whatever stressful thing she’d discussedearlier.

           “Is there anything the AbsoluteSpoon can do to help?” she asked, trying to poke back into that teasing moodfrom earlier.

           She heard Asuna huff quietly.

           “Is that a no?” she asked.

           Asuna shook her head again.

           “You’re helping just by being closeright now,” she said. “Being able to be here with you, in a calm moment likethis. Being able to hear you breathing. And making little jokes. Feeling yourwarmth against me. It makes me feel better. So, just let me stay like this withyou for a little longer. It’s alright if dinner’s late tonight.”

           Yuuki smiled and gave her a nod.

           “Yeah, maybe we could just order apizza or something,” she offered.

           Asuna chuckled.

           “Not after you went out and boughtfresh, healthy ingredients!” she said. “When we’re done here, we’re going tomake use of them!”

           Unable to counter such logic, Yuukilet out a low distress sound. She didn’t want to get up and cook, even thoughshe’d joked earlier about Asuna starting to doze off. This was a wonderfully comfortableposition to rest in. Maybe she could convince Asuna to order pizza when shewoke back up later.

           Asuna curled up just a bit in hersleep. Yuuki was surprised at how quickly she’d dozed off. She smiled, leanedover to kiss her on the cheek, and then pressed her face back into the crook ofAsuna’s neck to try and nap herself. She’d worry about things like dinner andhow to help Asuna with her problems after they woke. For now, she just neededto enjoy her chance to be the Absolute Spoon—a girlfriend with enough cuddlingpower to make her partner feel safe and at home after a rough day with her mom.

[inyri]

Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis. All things change, and we change with them for Satele Shan

(This took longer than it ought to have; Satele hits me in a strange place sometimes. But given the discussion I’ve seen about Satele on Twitter today it’s fitting that I finally managed to wrangle it into something passing for coherence.)

light

In the heat of high summer the breeze is a mercy.

It flutters at the panels of the canvas tent, carrying the scents of camp along with it, and when she inhales she breathes them in- caf and kolto, gun oil and the ozone tang of blaster fire- and thinks of Jace.

She’s supposed to be meditating. They move on the Imperial encampment tomorrow and she needs to calm herself, to gather her thoughts, to focus on the battle at hand. But as happens too often in these last few months she finds herself distracted; the wind grazes the nape of her neck where with her head bowed her robe gaps away from her sweat-beaded skin and she remembers the brush of his mouth there, tracing the lines of her collar as it falls open and-

(Not much armor, he says later, and hands her her belt. I wish you’d wear more. If-

The Force protects me. She fastens it around her waist, smooths her tunic down over her hips. I’ve no need of heavier armor than this.

Jace frowns. It didn’t protect your master back on Korriban. Or Malgus, for that matter.

No. But that’s not how the Force works.

A convenient excuse. But you don’t need it, anyway. He brushes one of her braids back from her face, the silver beads rolling between his fingers like a worry token. You’ve got me.)

When she opens her eyes Master Dar’Nala’s looking at her, and when she dismisses the padawans to fetch their dinner she gestures for her to stay behind.

“Satele, are you well? You’re very-” Dar’Nala considers, brow furrowed, though her eyes are kind- “unfocused today. If your injury from last week is still painful, you should visit the medical tent after we eat.”

She’s thankful for the question. It means she doesn’t have to lie. “That won’t be necessary. My wounds are healed.”

“What’s on your mind, then? Worrying about tomorrow?”

“Yes, master.” That wasn’t what she meant to say; it slips from her mouth, thoughtless, easy. Untrue. The breeze prickles her skin again and she shivers. “Only worrying. It will pass.”

*

They say the little things are how the dark gets in.

She knows it, in theory, but she doesn’t understand how they could possibly mean this. Alone, she is expected to endure- they both are, she and Jace, both flung into battle after battle after battle because they are soldiers and there is nothing left in the world any more but war. (The Sith call peace a lie. Sometimes she wonders if they’re right.) The chaos is wearing her down like water running over stone, carrying little pieces away bit by bit until one day she’ll wake, she thinks, and be nothing more than a robe and a blade, a mindless violent thing good for nothing but killing in the name of the Republic-

She needs this.

She needs him.

If this is how the dark gets in then everything she’s ever been told is wrong, because he is the only bright light in the entire galaxy.

*

(She tells herself it isn’t about the sex.

That is a lie, and honesty is important. It’s a little bit about the sex.

She doesn’t have much of a frame of reference, adolescent fumbling in a dark corner of the library and the night after Bothawui- the hangover wasn’t the only thing she regretted when she woke up- notwithstanding. But they’ve known each other so many years now, half a lifetime almost; she’s pretty sure Jace knew that about her and she’s more than sure he didn’t care. If he has complaints, at least, he certainly doesn’t voice them.

And blessed Force, there’s power in it-)

*

“You don’t have to be so serious,” he says. “Not with me.”

She smiles back over her shoulder as they keep moving through the trees. “I’m always serious. Haven’t you realized that by now?”

Jace grins and his scar tugs at the corner of his eye, pulling it into a near-wink. It still hurts him at times- she catches him rubbing at it when he doesn’t think anyone’s watching- but he won’t hear of having it removed. He wears it like a blazon of honor, like the medals pinned to all their chests after Alderaan, and only she knows what it really means: not just for the Republic like everyone thinks but also for you, Satele, for you there is nothing I wouldn’t do-

(He is not the type to say “I love you” but neither is she. That would complicate things too much.)

“When the war’s over, you should meet my mother.” The sunlight breaks through the clouds overhead, throwing the shadows of leaves across their faces; he pauses, looking up. “You two’d get along like a house on fire- not a single sense of humor between you.”

“Says the war hero. I’ve seen that recruitment poster.”

He wrinkles his nose, though it might have been the sun in his eyes. “Don’t remind me. Really, though, I think you’d like her.”

“I’m sure I would. But you know we can’t-”

“Can’t what?” There’s no one to see when he steals the words from her mouth with his. “We already are. We’ve been fighting their battles for them since we were children. Don’t you think they owe us this?”

*

Believing that, even for a moment, was not her first mistake.

But it might have been the biggest.

*

(They say the little things are how the dark gets in.)

When she clears the crest of the hill she stops short, seeing the bodies. Five Imperial soldiers lie dead at the foot of the hill, face down in the tall grass, and Jace and his men stand over them with blasters still cooling in their hands.

“I heard shooting.” She quiets her saber. “I came as quickly as I could.”

“Damn Imps wouldn’t surrender. We went to disarm them and they drew on us. Isn’t that right, men?” He turns to the rest of his squad as they nod agreement, looking everywhere but at her, and her belly curls into a tight little knot- but then again it’s been doing that a lot lately. Too much caf and not enough sleep, probably. “I guess we won’t need to take them back to camp after all.”

Five bodies in a neat line. Five spots of blood in the grass, five char marks half-hidden in close-cropped hair at the backs of heads.

She doesn’t look at their hands. She doesn’t want to.

She probably won’t see anything.

That is what she is afraid of.

*

“Satele,” Master Dar’Nala says that night, “you look troubled. Is something on your mind?”

She looks up from her reading, another endless treatise on the nature of the Dark Side- she ought to have brought her mother’s journals, might have actually found something there to guide her through this mess, but she doesn’t think the masters would approve- and frowns. “I-”

She bites it back.

Havoc Squad aren’t Jedi. The rules of the Order don’t apply to them, and she isn’t certain of what she saw. She wasn’t there. She might be wrong.

But if she’s right-

“I’m so tired-” she closes her eyes- “of this Force-damned war.”

*

For the first time in a month they’re bunkered in an actual building instead of tents in a forest and if no one realized that some of the rooms are paired, well. They’re all allies, aren’t they?

The privileges of rank extend to private quarters tonight. Ten minutes after she makes her excuses to the Masters he knocks at the door between their rooms and she’s barely got the latch undone before he’s on her like a shot. They’ve had so little time to themselves lately; she’s missed him, and tells him so.

“Did you really?” They stumble across the room together- they’ve got a proper bed for once, too, actually meant for two people, and if they’re lucky they’ll have time to take proper advantage of it. “Say it again.”

“I’ve missed you?” She raises an eyebrow. “Is that so strange to hear?”

He grins. “That sounds like attachment to me. Thought that wasn’t allowed.”

“Jace?”

“Yeah?

“Shut up.”

He hits the edge of the low bed and he falls backward, laughing, down onto the soft blankets; his arms are still around her, and she lets him drag her down too.

*

She tucks a sliver of ginger root into her cheek and even that doesn’t fend off the nausea; she spends half an hour retching into an empty water pitcher before she can focus enough to calm her roiling stomach.

When she finally feels well enough to stand she rummages through her pack, pulls out a scrap of clean rag to wipe her mouth. She’s running a little low on them, which is odd- she hasn’t needed them in-

Oh.

Oh, no.

*

I’d destroy their cities, Jace says, and burn their worlds.

There was a time when she believed that he was her light.

It was an easy mistake to make in retrospect. To closed eyes, light and fire look much the same.

She needed to believe it so badly, needed something bright in all this clinging darkness so much that she stopped trying to control it and let it run wild. She tried too hard to hold onto the light that she thought he was, to grasp it in both hands and press it tight against her heart because that was the only way to keep it safe-

(She knew long before Gell Mattar. She’s just become so good at lying that she didn’t realize she was lying to herself, too.)

-and now her eyes are open and she is holding fire in her bare hands, holding fire in her belly, and Force help her she is burning-

*

It’s too quiet in the cave. She paces back and forth, back and forth, singing under her breath to fill the silence.

Her mother used to sing this song to her, she thinks, when she was very small. She doesn’t remember. She was so young when they sent Tasiele away.

Her son will not remember her either. She has come to terms with that, even if with every kick and flutter her resolve wavers for a moment. But she keeps walking, the swell of her stomach cradled in her arms, and she sings.

He can hear her, she knows; she can feel him through the Force, the way his heartbeat changes when she talks to him. She sings and he is content. He is at peace.

Perhaps some part of him will remember this.

That probably isn’t how the Force works. 

But she hopes so.

[wily-one24]

I hope there's not a question limit per ask lol... Paint it Black: 3, 4, 5, 11, 12, 14 and 15 (or as many of those as you feel like answering lol)

Okay, two things.

A. Of *course* there’s no ask limit. I am an attention whore and will talk all day if you encourage me. Ask away!!

B. WTF tumblr? When I reposted that, it was a paragraph basically saying “ask about my fic!”, but now there are NUMBERED QUESTIONS? What? Where was the second half of that post when I came across it in my dash? 

ANSWERS

3. What’s your favourite line of narration?

Oh geez. How the hell am I going to answer that? I have favourite lines per chapter, I have favourite lines per scene! Each part I’m reading at any given moment happens to be my favourite. Every time I reread it, I find something new... and... maybe I suck for saying this... but I think “you’re a fucking genius”, then I get all sad, because I think that was probably one of the last great things I’ll write. I’ve been going downhill ever since... but anyways, to seriously answer your question, I’ll give a few examples... 

 - That face off scene between Regina and Snow, where Snow claims her father was a good man and Regina answers “To you!”, the entire scene is charged and emotional and brings up so much shit between them that was never explored in canon. 

- The flashback of Emma’s tenth birthday (technically collectively, all of the flashbacks, really. They’re angsty as fuck, but so formative in their characterisation that sometimes I forget they’re not actually canon). I have this habit of tearing Emma down to her bare bones and then trying to build her up again. I actually do this with most of my main female characters, and I do apologise for that Buffy, Kaylee, Veronica, Emma, and Alex. You all deserve so much better than me. 

- The scene where Regina is alone in the castle and revisits the old chamber of Leopold’s. It’s hard to read but that is some weird little cathartic release right there. There is some great imagery that I don’t think many people allow Regina when it comes to her healing. Everybody tends to go the “being married to Leopold was a BAD THING” route, without ever really exploring the day to day soul destroying aspect of it. The reality of being the King’s prisoner wife. But giving her the ability and strength to revisit it, so she can finally acknowledge to herself how damaging it was, to close herself off from it both literally and figuratively, and then to be self aware enough to compare that situation to the one she has Emma in. That is empowerment. 

- The parallel scenes of Emma and Henry at the start and the end of the fic. The first being when Henry is so adamant to rescue Emma and curse everyone again just to take them back... and the last where you can see how much indoctrinated he is into the fairy tale land, how much he is drifting from “our world” being the real one, to the fairy tale land being his reality, and how his morality has shifted... but then... he also brings it back by getting vulnerable and shows his concern not just for Emma but for Regina... which also shows great advancement from the child like black/white morality of good vs evil he begins with to an acceptance of a more adult grey-area morality, his willingness to examine the facts and the truth to make up his mind. 

All the minor characters... Nancy (sweet, voiced Nancy), and Miss Edith (poor Miss Edith), Rachel, all the little characters that had such minor parts, but had such great effects in the lives of our main characters. 

Oooh, writing Rumple was fun. I got to write him as nobody really does. As that creepy reptilian imp from the first few flashbacks in S1. Before they really woobified him. The hysteric giggling, maniacal creature who smelled the air and exuded pure malice. It was really enjoyable writing him like that. 

Well, this went terribly off topic... anyway, yes, flashback scenes and confrontation scenes, be they between Snow and Regina, Emma and Regina, Regina and Maleficent, Emma and Snow, Emma and Henry... it’s in emotion that the true power of the fic lives. 

4. What’s your favourite line of dialogue?

oh, this is harder than the first. It would take me ages to reread this fic (and now I most likely am, thanks) to really go through it and cherry pick my favourites. But, if a line has happened to truly hit home and resonate with you as a reader, it most likely did the same for me. I remember quite a few times writing this fic, thinking “holy fuck!” and knowing, just knowing, that it was definitely the line to write. 

5. What part was the hardest to write?

The first two chapters. Up until the pivotal moment where Regina heals Emma, those were difficult to write and definitely difficult to read. I’ve had many readers tell me they were about to give up, bc it was too much torture porn to enjoy, but that moment specifically was a turning point for them because it built up the trust that I could and would reign Regina in beyond the point of no forgiveness or return. 

11. What do you like best about this fic?

I liked writing it. 

It took me to some pretty intense places. Fic writing, for me, has always been a form of therapy. I work through to some pretty intense fucking emotions through the angst of it all. Like, no, I have never been magically transported to a fairy tale land, collared, enslaved, and held against my will for the sake of my family and community’s lives... but if you look deeper in my life at the time, I had just been through a pretty horrific pregnancy that nearly killed me, my spouse and I separated, and I was left ill, recovering, and a single mother of a toddler and infant. I felt like I was being ripped apart from all angles, forced into a live of servitude for the betterment of everyone around me at the cost of myself. Even, though, like Emma, I didn’t blame them, it was still a period of mourning and loss.

I didn’t realise it at the time. This revelation happened years later when rereading the fic and trying to see where all the emotions had been coming from. It happens a lot with some of my more intense, dramatic, and (strangely enough) most popular fics. I don’t always see the correlation to my life at the time, but if I look back I can generally trace the rationality behind what my muse was trying to work through. 

12. What do you like least about this fic?

The polarisation. The controversy. That fucking chapter fucking four. I still cannot reread that chapter without having to take a step back and breathe. That scene has some good imagery, but even now sometimes I just skip it. It’s not worth the shakes or unease or... ugh, just thinking about it upsets me. 

I made a mistake in the tagging and I learned from it, but holy fuck was I attacked at the time and used as a sacrifical cow to the radfems. It was, honestly, surprising to me. Not only the reaction, but the harshness of it, all the accusation and personal attacks aimed at me.  

I mean, I knew the fic was always going to be confronting to some. It dealt with some pretty hard issues and subject matter. I had warned for all the violence and non/dub con. But... I didn’t expect or prepare for the backlash in including a male, even if the male used was... just used... and never actually amounted to anything more than a tool for Regina to control/bind/further entrench Emma to her own will in one scene. 

I, very naively, went into it thinking “surprise!”, and that an almost canon past pairing that was heavily explored in the actual show would not be controversial in the least. More fool me, I suppose. I definitely went back to re-tag it, I apologised. I am not sure what else I could have done, but to this day this fic is held up as an example of queer baiting and everything wrong with false lesbianism. And it is definitely used as an example by biphobic people as to why bisexual women cannot be trusted as we’re all “really straight women at heart”.

To be fair, I never explicitly labelled the fic as “lesbian”. I begin all my fics (no matter how AU or ‘out there’) from a canon stand point. Meaning, everything that happened in the show up to that point counts. Which includes every prior relationship both Emma and Regina had been in up to the Season One finale. Which, surprise, were with men!! 

14. Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I don’t know if there’s anything they should ‘learn’, but I definitely hope readers realise that this is in NO WAY AN EXAMPLE OF A HEALTHY BDSM RELATIONSHIP. It is not meant to be a guide, a ‘how to’, or a ‘goal’. This is an incredibly fucked up way for two already fucked up characters, to find some kind of semblance of existence in a world/s stacked up against them from the very start. I didn’t think I needed to state that out loud, but apparently I had to. Many times.  

If not that... then definitely I hope perhaps some of the writing made people think about the characters more in depth, or differently, that it gave the reader a new way of thinking about the show and the storylines/characters in it.  

15. What did you learn from writing this fic?

Tagging. Tagging fucking matters. Tag properly. Like, just do it. 

In all seriousness, though... I think I learned a lot about my own trauma. 

I also think my writing developed throughout the fic. There is a definite shift from the first two chapters... you can definitely see where it became less of a short one off smutty fic set up and more of an in depth angsty character exploration of the soul kinda thing. 

I learned about set up and development and bringing in stray bits of plot development later in the story to tie up loose ends.  

[bendy-dreamland]

“Ahoy-hoy.”

“Hey, it’s me! Yer favorite ink de-”

“Nope. Good bye.”

“DON’T YOU DARE HANG UP!”

“Fine, fine! Uhg, da least you can do is call me more than… oh, I dunno, never! What do ya want anyway?”

“I need a favor.”

“As I expected, what is it dis time? You still owe me for da last one, and it was a doozy. We almost got caught.”

“I-I know, don’t remind me. But dis isn’t a bad one. I just need you to meet me an’ a friend of mine at a portal, possibly da one over on main, near da ol’ oak tree? It comes outta da statue.”

“It’s public.”

“I’ll be in human form, an’ I’m bringin’ my friend Henry wit’ me. You’ll be playin’ escort.”

“Hhhh… fine, but you’re buyin’ me dinner!”

“I’ll even buy ya dessert, baby~! See you tomorrow mornin’, nine o’clock sharp! Bye!”

“W-wait, Bendy! Don’t you hang up on m-! Oh, come on!”

--

Henry wasn’t sure how this happened, but Bendy somehow wormed his way into spending the night at his place tonight. He couldn’t even remember how it happened, damn toon logic. Well, now he’s stuck with a roommate for tonight in his small apartment. Luckily for him, Bendy was fine with taking his old couch.

As Henry worked on stirring a pot of bacon potato soup, he heard Bendy humming a song to himself as he looked around the living room. “Not much here, big guy. Ya live alone?”

“Yes, I do.” Henry replied, keeping his attention on the food.

“Hmm… wait, I thought you were datin’ someone. Or did dat end since we last chatted.” Bendy commented as he looked at some books on a shelf. Uhg, no comics or picture books, how boring.

With a heavy sigh, Henry looked over at him. “We broke up ten years ago, shortly after I left. How did you even know I was datin’ someone beforehand? You don’t like romance.”

“Oh, I don’t, but the office was gossipy.” The imp chuckled as he approached his creator. “You overhear stuff if everyone talks about it. People knew you were sweet on someone! But, uh, sorry about da break up.”

“It’s fine, it was mutual and necessary, something came up. This is done. You’re lucky this stuff is easy to make. Also, learn to peel potatoes better, you’re gonna be tastin’ some skin.”

Bendy blew a raspberry at him. “I ain’t a cook! I’m a dancer!”

“That reminds me.” Henry reached for two bowls, moving to dish up their dinner. “What exactly were you doin’ to get by here in Over World? You weren’t… stealin’, right? Never designed you to be a straight up thief.”

He scoffed, shaking his floating head. “No, no! I did a song an’ dance act at a really nice club, owned by a lovely couple. Sweetest people, took me in, thought I was an orphan, heh. I’d go out, perform stuff from the show as a human, wit’ out da toon stuff, an’ people loved it. Lived with the couple, da Andersons, but they moved to New York, an’ I stayed here, livin’ in da abandoned club fer six months now.”

He took the bowl when it was offered to it, he was already drooling over his favorite dish. “Fed mahself on donations I’d get from dancin’ in da streets. Collected cans an’ metal for da war effort, they’d give me change, it helped. Sometimes… I sneak into Toon World an’ take what I could get, pretendin’ to be some bum toon.” He followed Henry to the small dinner table in the kitchen, taking a seat. “Now, I got a question fer you, one ya didn’t answer earlier.”

Henry sat down, looking up at him. “Ask away.”

“Why do ya only got nine fingers? What happened to yer hand?”

The detective looked at his right hand. He only had four fingers, his pinky was completely missing, there was a huge amount of scar tissue where it was supposed to be, traveling down the front and back of his hand. He glanced over at the toon, seeing the curious look in those big, black eyes. “The war.”

Bendy shuddered visibly, his black outline wiggled as he did this. “I heard nothin’ but bad things about dat mess. Humans an’ toons, sent overseas. Lotta… lotta bad stuff, my contacts in Toon World have told me dat some toons come back pretty messed up.”

He looked at the bowl before looking back up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, wasn’t there long enough for shellshock to really get me.” Henry replied as he put a spoonful of stew into his mouth. “Sometimes, loud noises get me. Makes me think of the grenade that sent me flyin’ about ten feet in the air. Woke up four days later in a hospital, cute British nurse told me that I had a concussion, damage to my right leg, hip, and… lost my finger.”

A small smile came to his lips. “Some of my buddies from my troop visited me, they gave me my finger. One of them found it. Knew it was mine cause it still had the blistered finger nail from when I closed a jeep door on it a few days before. Nice gift, we put it into a jar of beer we found and threw it into a river. As a little… screw you, I guess.”

Bendy let out a nervous chuckle. “Heh, dat’s funny. Sorry dat ya, ya know, got sent over to fight.”

Henry just waved it off, shaking his head. “Nah, it’s fine. It happened, my dad fought in the previous one, and he came back fine. I’m fine, I lived to tell the tale, I’m here. With a small limp in my step, but I’m alive and kickin’. Gonna take more than an explosive to send me to the pearly gates.”

The demon laughed more, an honest laugh. Yet there was a small sense of dread with those words, what was it that could cut Henry’s life short? He looked at his creator, who returned to eating his soup, his attention on the newspaper he had set on the table earlier.

It’s been ten years since he last saw him, had watched the man leave Joey Drew Studios with a sad good bye, and a promise that they’d meet again. When Henry left, Bendy was banned from seeing him, with a threat from Joey. He had missed the animator, they were great friends, heck, Bendy saw him as his best friend!

And then Henry was fired, banned from the studio, because something happened between him and Joey.

After Henry left… well… Bendy noticed changes in the studio. Things took a strange turn, and he can’t… he can’t really figure out what to make of it all. And it wasn’t just at Joey Drew Studios, there was The Studio, in Toon World.

He had only visited once, and he knew there was something not right about it at all.

Bendy remembered the unsettling, unnatural air of Da Studio, of how everyone seemed to be almost in a trance-like state, that many of them had left the studio in Over World. And ink, it was everywhere, it was constantly flowing in the pipes. He didn’t get far, he just remembered seeing where the Ink Machine was located, and he never wanted to see it again.

It was so much bigger and more powerful than the original one in Joey Drew Studios…

Bendy shook his head and shoved a spoonful of soup into his mouth, deciding to just ignore those thoughts and forget about the Studio for the rest of the evening. He was gonna catch up with his creator, that was a much more enjoyable plan!

As the ate, Bendy asked Henry questions, like what he had gotten up to in the past ten years, how some of his cases went, if he was really as good of a P.I. as some of the humans and toons claimed him to be. Henry answered his questions and tried to ask his own of the demon, but Bendy only answered questions he wanted to answer. He was vague on the stuff that involved him getting into trouble, or how he got Henry back to his office. He also avoided questions about the studios.

Henry was suspicious, but figured that those were sore topics, or things Bendy couldn’t tell him just yet. Yet, that was a word he knew would be common with Bendy. The demon was always a mystery, Henry hadn’t been there when the toon first came into this world, not like the others, but Joey had. Joey said he appeared just like all the others one had and would, something had just… delayed the little guy.

Toons don’t get delayed in coming into creation unless if editing occurs at the same time of the creation, but that is rare. Then again, Bendy went through a lot of rough drafts from Henry’s original designs.

The mouth was a huge change, same with him losing and then gaining a tail, he even use to have a set of wings at one point. And the human appearance… Henry had made notes that he wanted Bendy to take on a human form for pranks, since demons could shape shift, but Joey never liked that idea.

But seeing Bendy with a tail now, and the ability to become a real human, not a toonish one, is mysterious.

Joey, what were you doing these past ten years?

After the meal and talking, Henry set up a makeshift bed on the couch for his unexpected guest. “We gotta get up early, I want to get to work on this case as soon as possible. And didn’t you say we’re meetin’ with your friend at nine?”

“Yep! He an’ his brother better be there, or they’re cruisin’ fer a bruisin’.” Bendy moved to begin removing his vest.

“What are you doin’?” Henry asked as he unfolded an old blanket for Bendy to use.

“Gettin’ undressed! Normally, if I ain’t in Over World, I’m as naked as da day ya created me, but here? Gotta wear clothes, only really got da one set and I don’t like sleepin’ in it. Besides, you’ve seen me in mah normal attire, so don’t make a fuss.”

“Hm. I just thought it was a redesign to spruce you up before the show got cancelled.” That happened sometimes, when series try to continue after having low ratings, they do redesigns of characters to get more attention. It doesn’t always work.

Bendy shrugged. “Nah, it’s my own work. Got some clothes from mah friends, fixed up da left sleeve cause I can’t really use it.” He tossed the shirt aside. “Even gave it mah li’l patch, ol’ dish face thought it was a good idea.”

Henry raised an eyebrow but didn’t question it. “Alright, whatever you say. Time for bed, don’t stay up and get into anythin’. If you need anythin’, I’m in the other room. Good night.”

The imp grinned, giving a nod. “Night Henry!” He waved, watching the human head to a different room before seeing the door clothes. He let out a small sigh, rubbing at the back of his head as he looked around the apartment from where he stood. He hoped they could figure out what’s up with Joey and where he went soon, he didn’t want anything to happen to Henry. Joey would do something to the guy, he just knew it…

--

“Okay, this is da spot.” Bendy pointed to a small area, where a man stood in dark clothes. He was clearly a toon, though he appeared to look somewhat like a dog. He stood before a fenced off brick wall, watching Bendy and Henry with careful eyes.

“Reason for business?” The dog asked, his voice as stern as his face.

“Detective Henry Ross.” Henry approached, showing his verification to enter Toon World. “I am investigatin’ the disappearance of Joseph Drew. We have permission to enter to continue the investigation to find any clues to his whereabouts.”

The dog looked over the verification, seeing that it was certified between the mayor of this town and the one in Toon Town. “Alright, you can go. But what about this guy?” He pointed at Bendy, who put on a plastic grin.

“I am his assistant in da case!” Bendy continued to smile. “Benjamin Daemon, I knew Joey Drew an’ am a friend of Mr. Ross here. I’m also in contact wit’ da people waitin’ fer us on da other side of da portal.”

He got a hard glare from the dog who turned and approached a phone attached to the brick wall. It was cartoony in nature and after he dialed a number, the mouth piece began to move as a voice came through. “Yeah, what is it?”

“Got a couple of guys wanting to come over, are there people waiting for a Benjamin Daemon and a Henry Ross?”

The phone was quiet for a moment before the mouth piece began to speak again. “Yeah, two guys are waiting on this side. Let ‘em through.”

The dog hung up and opened the gate of the fence with a key from his pocket. “Just walk through the wall. Watch out, it’ll try to pull you back in.”

“Don’t worry, I know mah way around a portal.” Bendy chuckled and grabbed Henry’s hand, making his grab at the back of his vest. “Do not let go of me until we pass through. Dis one is a doozy.”

Henry didn’t like the sound of that, he didn’t usually use this portal, he often used the one near his office. But Bendy insisted on this one and his contacts knew it, so he was stuck with it. He followed after him, holding onto the golden vest tightly as he watched his creation push his hand against the bricks. He watched as Bendy’s hand morphed through the brick, as if he was pushing his hand into gelatin, before his upper body went in.

Soon enough, Henry was being pulled in, the sensation was cold and weird. He never did like traveling through wall portals, they always felt so weird. He closed his eyes, it was always blindingly bright going through these, and he knew that it would be too colorful on the other side.

Bendy had no trouble though, he was so use to this sort of travel that he was immune to the blinding white and then the sudden surge of colors that was right ahead of him. He could hear the corny, upbeat, happy singing of something as he approached before a cartoonish hand shoved through the swirling portal of colors in front of him.

“Here we go!” Bendy grinned, grabbing at the hand as he was tugged forward. He felt the familiar chill of the portal as he was pulled through the colors. It stuck to his body as he was pulled towards a very familiar figure.

“Hey there, short stack.” The figure smirked, seeing Bendy come through with someone. “And you did bring yerself a friend.”

“Yep!” Bendy laughed, stumbling forward after Henry smacked into his back. “Sorry about dat, ol’ man, I forget about da landin’.”

Henry huffed, straightening himself out before he looked at the other toon. He was taller than Bendy, an object head, a cup. He wore red pants with a black shirt, a red and white striped bandana was around his throat, though Henry knew there was nothing under it. Like Bendy, his cup head floated over his shoulders.

“Cuphead!” The imp laughed again as he hugged onto the toon. “Mmmm~! Did ya miss mah sweet face, baby?” He planted a big, wet, cartoony kiss on Cuphead, who shouted and shoved the other off. Bendy just landed on the ground, laughing even harder than before.

“Hehehe, been a while, eh Bendy?” Another toon approached, dressed similar to Cuphead, though in a blue color scheme. He turned his attention to Henry, smiling. “Ah, good morning, Henry!”

Bendy stopped laughing abruptly and looked up at his creator. “You know Mugman?” He asked as he got to his feet.

“Yeah, I know him and his twin brother. We worked a case together last year, and Mugman here helps develop my photos for me when I can get into contact with him.”

Mugman chuckled. “I do it more as a hobby, but I’m happy to be of help.”

Cuphead and Mugman, former stars from Studio MDHR’s biggest hit, Cuphead: Don’t Deal With the Devil. They were two kids who made a deal with the Devil himself at his casino and had many adventures fighting baddies to get their soul contracts in order to save their own skins from the prince of darkness.

It had ran for a while and did well, but after the big fight with the Devil and a bonus set of episodes, the studio lost funding and didn’t do well against other competition. So, the two cup brothers and their cast of colorful characters moved on to Palomino City, a place known for housing lost toons.

When a studio goes under or decides to remove characters from their casts, the Toons move to Palomino City to live. They can find work in Toon World and Over World, but they no longer have studios to return to in order to continue their shows. Sometimes, rarely, do they find work in other studios, but most just get simple work.

They are, however, not treated well.

Many humans, specifically the higher class and those of a certain heritage and standing see them as being on the same level as those of lower classes, the poor, and those of different races and cultures. In other words, toons are a minority group and are treated as such.

It actually surprised Henry that Bendy was able to find stage work in Over World as a performer, most usually work behind the scenes, or as staff members of clubs. It wasn’t often they got to perform unless if the business was owned by toons.

The cup brothers got lucky, they were able to become bounty hunters of sorts. Just like in the show, they tracked down cartoon characters, only this time it wasn’t for their contracts, it was for people skipping out on payments and such. They still worked for the Devil himself sometimes, who lived in Toon World, somewhere.

Henry wasn’t sure where the Devil was, he was a strange toon, one that the animator didn’t understand. He knew people at Studio MDHR and had asked about that character and how he came to be. No one could ever give him a straight answer. How… peculiar. But that isn’t his business of other animator’s work and choices, he wasn’t going to dwell too much on a cartoon demon that isn’t his own.

“Hey.” A voice spoke up, catching the group’s attention. A human stood near the portal, glaring at them. “Alright, you’re all here, now get! No loitering around the portal!”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get yer britches in a knot.” Cuphead snorted, turning away with the others following after him. “So, Henry, what brings you here and how is Bendy involved? Must be pretty big to have him using a public portal like that.”

That last comment caught Henry’s attention, Bendy doesn’t use public portals? Are there hidden ones? Probably, most likely in seedy areas. He probably uses those since he’s on Toon World’s most wanted. “I’m here on a case, Bendy is here to help me. We’re lookin’ for any information on the disappeance of Joey Drew.”

Mugman frowned at this. “Joey Drew? Must be a big deal for you to bother with that, no one here cares that he’s gone. In fact, when people found out, I swear there was cheerin’. Newspaper said a great evil was missin’ and that we don’t have to deal with it.”

“I was hired to find him, I think there is somethin’ big happenin’ behind the scenes. Bendy’s filled me in on what little he knows, and I even went back to Joey Drew Studios to see for myself what happened.”

“And whatcha found wasn’t enough?” Cuphead asked as he put his hands behind his head.

Henry shrugged. “I found a strange machine before the place flooded, called the Ink Machine.”

This got the cup brothers’ attention as the looked at one another, before looking at Bendy. “He knows?” They both asked.

“He knows just as much as I do an’ what I’ve told you two about.” Bendy snipped, glaring. “I don’t want him gettin’ anywhere near dat screamin’, metal death trap! He almost got himself killed in da place cause of da machine.”

“You two know about it?” Henry asked, ignoring Bendy’s shouts.

Mugman waved his hand a little. “As Bendy said, just what he knows. We only really know that Joey Drew created it to speed up production for shorts, but that’s about it. But Bendy doesn’t seem to like it all that much.”

Henry glanced at his creation. “Clearly. Anyway, Mugman, I’m gonna need you to develop the pictures I took. Sorry, it’s got some ink on it, hopefully the film is still good.” He held out the camera he had used in the studio, which Mugman carefully took.

The mug toon looked it over, giving a little nod. “It’ll be a small challenge, but I’m sure I can clean up anythin’ that needs it. Still seems to be in good condition.” He shifted it a bit in his hold, but almost dropped it. Quickly, he caught it, but hit a button, blinding the four with a flash of light.

“Ow! Mugs, what was dat fer?!” Cuphead rubbed his eyes, uhg, he was seeing spots.

“Sorry, butterfingers today, it seems! I think I took a picture, terribly sorry, Henry. I’ll get rid of it when I develop the film.”

“It’s alright.” Henry replied, blinking a few times. “So, we need to sit down and plan things out, figure out how to go about gatherin’ up information here.”

Cuphead nodded, smirking. “Well, we can go to Tizzy’s Diner, since a certain someone owes me dinner like he promised.”

Bendy rolled his eyes. “You said dinner, it’s too early fer dat!”

“Nope, I want breakfast, didn’t get a chance to eat it this mornin’!”

“Cause you woke up late.” Mugman rolled his eyes, ignoring the stammered defense from his twin. “Let’s just go, I’m gonna need a coffee to get through a conversation with those two.”

Henry chuckled, following after the taller twin. “No kiddin’, didn’t realize that those two liked to argue.”

“They’re good friends, but they are always at each other’s throats. Come on, I’ll buy us breakfast, my treat.”

The four arrived to a small diner, called Tizzy’s. Henry had been here once before with someone from his past, they shared coffee and the best peach cobbler he ever had. Tizzy herself was there, a bat toon who always had her curly locks pushed out of her face by a polka dot bandana. She had a stern look on her face when she saw Cuphead, crossing her arms as she tapped her foot.

“You gonna finally pay off that tab, Cuppy?” She narrowed her eyes at him as he sheepishly laughed.

“Y-yeah, don’t worry…! I’ll get da money real soon, just got hired fer a new job, dontcha worry dat pretty head of yours, Tiz!”

“Ha!” She smirked, hands on her hips now. “I’ve heard that song and dance before. Mugs, at least I can trust you. So, you ordering?”

Mugman chuckled a little, saying that they would be as he ushered the other three to a quiet booth off to the side, away from most of the other customers of the greasy spoon. Once they were seated and given menus, along with everyone ordering themselves some drinks, Henry got right down to business.

“I’m gonna need as much information on Joey Drew and Joey Drew Studios as you two can get. Everythin’ from the past ten years.”

Cuphead gave a nod as he leaned forwards, resting his arms on the table. “Gotcha, we’ll ask around, keep it on the downlow. There’s a lotta people here who won’t give up what they know without a price, but Mugs an’ I got our way of gettin’ info.”

“And if it becomes too much trouble, I’m sure our boss will help.”

Bendy shook his head. “No, we ain’t gettin’ dat guy involved, too much trouble wit him, and I already owe him enough as it is… don’t even let him know I’m back here.”

“We’ll keep our mouths shut then.” Mugman frowned, but smiled when Tizzy walked over with a tray, giving them their drinks before taking their orders. Once she was gone, he turned back to the group. “I know a guy, we often use him to find out if a bounty has been seen or if they’re in hidin’. We can probably get a few things out of him, but he’s really stubborn.”

“You mean Mike?” Cuphead asked, getting a nod. “Great, don’t like askin’ him fer information, gets real snippy about it. Won’t even tell us his source! But he’s a man with connections.”

“Mike?” Henry asked, taking out his little notebook and a pen.

“Sarsaparilla Mike, he owns Candy Corners. We know him through Baroness von Bonbon, use to work under her, a background character from our show.” Mugman replied as he took a drink of his coffee, seeing Henry taking notes. “He’s a man who is tight lipped, but can get information from just about anyone, he’s a man who knows what he’s doin’. Really scary how well he is at that.”

“I think he’s got good connections, but like hell he’s gonna tell us who or what they are.” Cuphead huffed.

Henry nodded, making note of this. “Bendy, is there anyone you know who can help?”

“Ehh… not really, tried to keep myself on da downlow these past few years, lost a lotta connections, but I still talk to these two. I told ya, I’ve been in hidin’, can’t have anyone know I’m Bendy da Dancin’ Demon. So call me Benjamin here.” Bendy whispered.

“Right.” Henry frowned. “Well, maybe we can give Mike a visit after we’re done here, could make things a little easier. Or we could check out The Studio, see what we find there.”

“No!” Bendy hissed, slapping his hand down on the table. “We ain’t goin’ there just yet! Only as a last resort!”

“But what if he’s hidin-!” Mugman started but the look he got from the human-toon made him clamp his mouth shut. “R-right, we’ll… leave it for last…”

Cuphead got up from the table and grabbed Bendy by the back of the shirt, much to his protest, and dragged him outside. He pushed the demon into a small alley next to the building and shoved him against the wall. “What the hell, man? You looked ready to jump an’ slaughter my brother!”

“I did not!”

“Your tail is out!”

Bendy glanced, seeing that, yes, his tail was out and looked sharp as a knife. He hissed through his teeth before returning his attention to the cup. “Listen, brat. I don’t want either of you or Henry goin’ to Da Studio. Not until we have a better idea of what happened to Drew. If he’s there, fine, we’ll leave him there to rot in da hell he made, but I don’t want any of you guys goin’ there. Who knows what horrors are inside.”

“Horrors?”

“Believe me when I say dis, but Da Studio is nothin’ like the one in Over World. I only went back once since da show ended, an’ it ended up wit’ me losin’ an arm an’ gainin’ you-know-what. I don’t remember what happened in there, but I’ve got nightmares I never recall later, just phantom sensations of fear an’ pain. Bet you don’t want yer li’l brother bein’ in a similar situation. Or worse.”

Cuphead stepped back, looking about ready to argue, but he bowed his head. “I don’t want anythin’ happenin’ to Mugman.”

“Then trust me, Cups. We stay as far away from Da Studio until its our only option, or things get a lot worse.”

END OF ACT ONE SCENE THREE

[beatcroc]

brief opinions and ratings of ally pyre characters i have met so far:

jodariel:12/10. the classic wife. very big, very strong, very gruff. she has a short temper and makes a lot of physical threats, but doesn’t follow through on most of them even though she clearly could and sometimes does want to. hedwyn’s actual [adoptive] mom?? she’s quite defensive of the group and i think she cares about [nearly] everyone way more than she’d ever let on. i will absolutely never not use her in the rites. seems to be the most meticulous of them and keeps after her appearance with surprising dedication.

hedwyn: 10/10. innocent boy. maybe very slightly naive but his untainted mind lends him to being a great mediator and voice of reason, especially against the more brash jodariel. his kindness is borders on unnerving at times, but i’d trust this man with my life. seems to do most of the menial tasks like cooking, cleaning, and repairs with no apparent quarrels to it. thoroughly good dude.

rukey greentail: 9/10. sprightly pup. he starts arguments sometimes, but i think everyone knows they appreciate his spirit and dynamic in the group. just goes off and does dog things all the time if no one’s chatting or needs help.  got really really mad at me for ringing a bell too much. sorry rukey.

[sh]ae: 12/10. precious. wonderful. pure. you’ve never done anything wrong in your life, ever and i love you so much you beautiful strange moon child. you are my absolute fave to use in the rites and i hope you continue to find and bring to others happiness in everything you go through. counterpoint: supergiant how the FUCK are we meant to tag fanart of this lass.

ti’zo: 8.5/10. i might not ever use you for the rites but you are a valued and loved member of this team all the same. thank you for your watchful and valiant manner, and cheerful screeches and trills. such a smart boy! he even teaches the other drive-imps!

sandra the unseeing- 15/10 holy shit. so haughty and self-assured. a sassy, sassy woman with negative regret for her actions. what did she do? what did she DO?! she’s almost too powerful and i feel like i need to kinkshame her.

sir gilman -8/10. while i have an inherent dislike for single-eyed designs, i can’t help but love the sparky little guy, and i was really hoping he would indeed join us after being treated so badly by his commander. i don’t particularly care to waste enlightenment on him, but the wyrm’s aura trail detonation is super cool

pamitha- 10/10 beautiful bird lady with a beautiful voice and willing to set aside old prejudices for her own goals. she calls everyone ‘darling’ and i’m gay for her.