#this was not in order bc i organized it from the lightness to darkness of the picture

[stillundefeated]

 via  Gridllr.com  —  sharing is caring!

RED Secret Messages

[ct7567329]

You Between Us ~ Rex and Howzer x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You used to be a General in the GAR. Instead of fighting along side Howzer and the rest of your battalion, or joining Anakin and the 501st for a mission, you now live an isolated life on Takodana. An unexpected request for assistance from Rex and Howzer leads to more than any of you three could have anticipated. NO CLONECEST!!!!! Word Count: 6k Warnings: alcohol consumption, f/m/m threesome (18+ pls, the goal was for this to be filthy), brief mention of drug/substance use (literally only one line), little angsty bc post Order 66, NO CLONECEST, Howzer is a little possessive of his general, fluff A/N: so get this, i wrote almost this whole thing then it randomly vanished. i feel like the original version was better and i want to SOB but oh well. here's to everyone who wishes they could live out their wildest dreams with Howzer and Rex.

The golden haze of the Takodana sunset cast long shadows over the forest and along the edge of your hidden homestead. A cool breeze rustled the leaves, but inside the stone cottage, warmth glowed from a crackling fire, soft lights, and the forgotten, quiet holoprojector casting a boloball match. You hadn’t seen Rex in almost a year. As for Howzer, it's been longer. Yet here they were, armor scuffed and helmets off, each settling down on two futons facing each other, a low table separating them.

You rested on the third couch that boxed in the table, looking up at the boloball match across the room.

"Maker," Rex exhaled, reaching forward and holding a bottle of Corellian whiskey up to the light, "You’ve been hoarding the good stuff out here, huh?"

You smirked, picking up and swirling your own glass, "Perks of not being on the run every minute of the day. It's hard to maintain the mainstream liquor when you're dodging Imperial patrols."

Howzer chuckled, the sound low and familiar. He hadn’t changed much. The streak of gray in his hair was new, and the haunted look in his eyes hadn’t been there during the war. But his voice still hit like home, "I still don’t know how you managed to stay off their radar. Takodana isn’t exactly Outer Rim, middle of nowhere, wasteland."

You shrugged, leaning back into the cushions, "That's kind of the point. There's also plenty of ruins around here to hide in. Oh, and I’ve had help."

Rex shot you a knowing look. “You still have those old Republic sensors buried around the perimeter?”

“I upgraded them last year. You two actually tripped half my alerts on the way in.”

Howzer winced, “Damn. I thought I was being stealthy.”

You all laughed and it felt natural. Comfortable even. Like the galaxy wasn’t burning down around you.

Rex leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Still. You didn’t have to say yes. I know calling you into this mess puts a target on your back.”

You met his gaze, “You were always the responsible one.”

He chuckled, "You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t serious.”

He looked down at his drink, swirling it once before meeting your eyes again. “It is. The Clone Underground’s doing more than just hiding deserters now. We’re organizing larger operations. Rescuing others. We’ve got a network from Lothal to Tatooine now. But we’re stretched thin. We need safe houses. Supplies. Tactical minds.”

Howzer raised his glass toward you with a crooked smile, “That’s where you come in, General.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t call me that.”

“You’ll always be General to me.”

A brief silence fell, heavy with memory of your days in the field with the boys. The desperate sieges. The narrow escapes. Everything. But especially the way Howzer had stood at your side through it all, unwavering, even when the tide of the war turned dark.

And then came Order 66.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, “I’m not the person I was during the war. I’m not even sure I want to be.”

Rex spoke gently, "None of us are. That’s not what this is about. We don’t need a Jedi. We need you. ”

You exhaled slowly, “For you boys, anything. I’m in.”

Rex smiled, and Howzer raised his glass in salute.

“Then let’s drink,” you said, lifting your own.

“To old friends,” Rex cheered.

“To rebellion,” Howzer added.

You smiled, “To surviving.”

The glasses clinked together with a soft chime, fire cracking in the background.

With the bottle nearly empty and laughter echoing through the room, the memories started pouring out.

"You remember the rain mission on Kampeera?" Howzer grinned, pouring another round, "The one where our transport skidded into that swamp and sunk nose-first?"

You laughed, “You skidded into that swamp. I told you the terrain was unstable.”

“You said ‘watch your approach.’ Not ‘don’t land.’”

Rex smirked, “I remember hearing about that one. The whole battalion smelled like bog rot for a week.”

Howzer raised his eyebrows, “You smelled like that longer, if I recall.”

You were laughing so hard you nearly spilled your drink, “It took days to get the mud out of my armor. And don’t think I didn’t notice you hiding in the med tent to avoid debrief.”

“I was injured!”

“Please! You had a sprained ankle!”

Rex leaned back, smiling wistfully, "It’s strange, you know? Talking about those days like they were good times. They shouldn’t have been. We lost too much.”

Your smile faltered, “But they were real. We were real. And we had each other.”

Silence fell again, heavier this time.

Rex stared into his glass, “I still remember the day I got the call from Howzer. Said something was wrong. That Fives—”

“Don’t,” Howzer's voice was quiet, the usual calm in his tone gone, “I still have nightmares about it.”

You watched him carefully, " But you resisted when the order came.”

He didn’t look at you, “Barely. Long enough to warn my men to stand down. Long enough to let you escape.”

Rex looked between you two, "You never told me that.”

Howzer’s jaw tightened, "I didn’t want to admit I almost failed. That I almost-" he finally looked at you, pain flickering behind his eyes, “I almost killed you.”

You reached towards him, placing a hand over his, “But you didn’t. That's what matters.”

Rex leaned forward, “We all have ghosts. But we can’t let them define us. That’s why we fight. Not to fix the past. But to make sure the future’s better.”

You nodded slowly, “Exactly! So how can I help you two?”

Rex hesitated, then took another long drink before answering, "Access codes. Supply runs. Intelligence from the inside.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You think I still have contacts?”

Howzer met your gaze, “You used to have a friend in the Senate, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard, “I-, That was a long time ago.”

Rex looked at you, eyes sharp now, “Are still alive?”

You sighed and rubbed at your temple, "Not exactly. Not in the way you remember.”

Howzer frowned, "What does that mean?”

"Senator Bail Organa of Alerdaan. He was always sympathetic to the Jedi and fiercely loyal to the Republic, but not to the politics. He actually helped me disappear here after the Jedi fell.”

Rex perked up, "Could he get us access to the location of clone prisons? Maybe find out where the Empire’s holding deserters?”

“Maybe,” you replied, crossing your arms, “But he’ll want proof you're worth trusting."

A new bottle was opened. The liquor was now a dark spiced rum smuggled from Ryloth. The warmth was more intense than the whiskey, sinking deep into your bones as the hours slipped away.

Howzer was fully relaxed now, his legs stretched out on the couch and his armor piled beside the end table in a neat stack. Rex's lower armor remained on, one leg cross over his thigh and his drink cradled loosely in one hand. You sat curled on the sofa, legs tucked beneath you, Howzer still on a separate couch to your left with Rex on the other to your right. The three of you faced the liquor bottle littered coffee table in the center of the small room.

The mood had shifted. The lightness of earlier now gave way to something more reflective. More intimate.

“You know,” Rex said slowly, topping off his glass, “you were always one of the few Jedi we actually liked.”

You raised an eyebrow, "Liked?”

He smirked, lazily waving his free hand in figure eights, “Respected. Trusted. Enjoyed. All that.”

Howzer nodded in agreement, “Most of the Jedi were distant and too caught up in rules. You actually encouraged us to have fun.”

You snorted, “I was constantly breaking the rules. I'm pretty sure the Council was one more infraction away from exiling me.”

“And we loved you for that,” Howzer retorted, gaze catching yours with something unspoken behind it.

Your heart beat a little faster as you looked at your glass, trying to laugh it off, “Well, someone had to keep you boys entertained.”

The moment didn’t break.

Howzer’s voice dropped, “I remember the last mission. Before the war ended. You kissed me good luck before we jumped into that canyon on Altirax.”

You froze.

Rex blinked, looking between you. “Wait, what?!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “You weren’t supposed to remember that, Howzer!"

Howzer’s voice was teasing now. “Hard to forget when it’s the last thing you do before nearly dying.”

Rex choked on his drink, “You two were-”

“No,” you cut him off, “Besides, if giving him a quick peck while on the brink of death was the worst thing I did during my time as a Jedi, I'm sure the Council would have been thrilled.”

Howzer pressed his lips together, ignoring the smug smirk on Rex's face. “Well, this just got more interesting," Rex mumbled against his glass.

“And you’re drunk,” you playfully sing, briefly pointing your finger at Rex.

“Maybe,” he admitted, “but you can't make a statement like that then not tell us what worse things you did.”

You stared into the fire, feeling both their gazes locked onto you, "I forgot."

Howzer scoffed, “Coward.”

“Tactical retreat,” you winked back, taking a slow sip of your drink, "I'd hate to be the one to expose your innocent minds to my pre-trial shenanigans."

Rex peered at you from over his glass, "Are you suggesting we can't handle it?"

You shook your head, crossing your leg over your lap before lowering your voice slightly, speaking in a more flirtatious tone. A tell tale sign the alcohol is now completely to your head, "No. I'm suggesting I've got to keep some personal mysteries," you extended your arm out slightly, looking at your nails you painted earlier in the day before continuing, "like all the clubbing, death sticks, the threesome, sneaking alcohol into the temple, the street drugs from the lower levels."

You stopped, still looking at your hand, "but I suppose death sticks and street drugs could be the same-"

Rex and Howzer were gawking at you. Hard.

"Yes?" You questioned, casually topping off your drink.

Howzer and Rex darted glances between each other and you for a few moments, silently deciding who would could put words together first.

Rex took a long sip from his glass, his throat bobbing as his swallowed, "From a younger you, yeah, I could see most it," he huffed, tilting his drink to you, "the threesome though," he took another sip, "I wouldn't have guessed that one."

A deep laugh bubbled from your chest, "Hey, we were just curious young Jedi messing around with each other before trials before we were forced to swear to a life of celibacy."

Howzer nearly choked on his drink, "It was with other Jedi?! Please tell me Rex and I know-"

"Nope! Don't even think about it," you answered, crossing your arm across your chest, "Sworn to secrecy." You held back a grin, imagining how Rex would feel if he knew of your fooling around with Anakin back in the day. "Besides," you flicked your wrist, "it was horrible."

"Jedi having no game? Tell us something we don't know," Howzer sarcastic snorted, just barely over a whisper, earning a snicker from Rex.

You uncrossed your leg and moved to the edge of the couch, giving Howzer an annoyed look, "Oh, do share your experiences with threesomes and seducing Jedi since you known so much" Rex's laugh was quickly silenced when you snapped your head towards him and asked the same question.

"Can't speak for Howzer, but no. I-. No. No Jedi. No threesome. Never," Rex stammered, looking down at his glass, cheeks flushed.

Howzer took his legs off the couch and sat up straight, resting his arm on the arm resting closest to you and rolling his eyes, "It was a joke. If I ever got with a Jedi, I'm sure you'd find out somehow."

A small smile curled on the edge of your lip, completely oblivious to the fact your face was dangerously close to Howzer's. Noting this, Howzer leaned back into the couch cushion, nodding to Rex, "maybe someday, we'll get our shots with Jedi. Then, we'll report back to you on that. As long as you promise to have a good threesome then report back to us."

Shutting your eyes, you took a deep breath, "Howzer, you're drunk."

"Deal?" He held out a pinkie. You weren't getting away from this.

"Okay, deal," you sighed, intertwining your pinkie with his, raising your glass, "here's to sex with Jedi and good threesomes!"

Once again, laughter filled the air. "By the way," you added, "I don't think it's fair to assume the Jedi are lousy in bed."

Rex let out playful chuckle, "I can think of quite few men who had fond fantasies of you being quite the opposite."

A quick sip of rum suppressed your laugh.

"You're looking at two of them, cyar'ika."

The words slipped out before Howzer could stop himself. Rex snapped his head to Howzer, his stare shooting daggers at him.

All the energy from an exploding star couldn't even begin to compete to the sudden energy shift in the room.

"I- He doesn't know what he's saying right now," Rex grunted between gritted teeth, desperately trying to brush away Howzer's comment.

But Howzer slowly pushed himself off the couch and sat down next to you, his thigh pressed against yours. Rex stared at Howzer's every motion. Howzer grazed your shoulder with his knuckle, admiring the way you looked at his touch.

You felt every small shift of his body. His gaze kept dropping to your mouth and then back to your eyes like he was holding himself back by sheer force of will. You didn’t stop him nor did you want to. Everything in you was wound tight with both drunk desire and with long-buried longing finally surfacing in the moment.

But then, without looking away from you, Howzer spoke.

“Rex,” he said quietly, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

You glanced over to Rex, his expression unreadable. The reflection of the fireplace danced in his eyes, flickering between shadow and light. You didn’t know when he’d started watching, but he hadn’t looked away.

"It's funny," Rex huffed, setting his drink down, placing his hand on your neck. Your hand fell to your lap, his face growing closer to yours. When he was inches away, he turned to face Howzer, "our whole lives, we've waited for permission. For our general's approval. But now," he paused, returning his attention back to you.

Except he didn't finish his sentence. Instead, he leaned forward, placing his lips carefully on yours, making sure the first time his lips touched yours was slow and intimate. His mouth moved gently over yours, unhurried, as though he was memorizing every shape, every motion your mouth made, every small twitch from the corner of your lip.

You deepened it, tilting your head slightly, and his hand slid to your shoulder and down to your hand. The warmth of him running his palm down your arm gave you goosebumps. the solid strength behind that tenderness, made you press in closer.

Howzer loudly exhaled, attempting to catch either yours or Rex's attention. Neither of you pulled away. In another desperate attempt, he cleared his throat. You and Rex broke the kiss, looking up at a very impatient Howzer. Rex got the memo.

"I forgot what I was saying but," Rex continued, letting go of your hand and swiping his finger across your lip, removing the string of saliva between your mouths, "I've been thinking about doing that for a long time," his voice was more rough with each word.

You felt your breath catch and your heart stop. The confession lingered between the three of you as Rex retreated back to his original spot on the couch, taking his glass back into his hand. He studied Howzer for a long beat, then looked at you again. There was something in his eyes. Not jealousy. Not resistance. Just rawness. Emotion. Understanding.

"Kiss her, Howzer," he rasped, knowing those three words just changed the dynamic between the three of you forever.

In an instant, Howzer's palm was pressed to your cheek, forcing your attention to him. His gaze sent shockwaves down your spine as he placed one hand on your shoulder and one knee off to your side, softly shoving you onto your back. Your hair fell into your face as you fell back, extending your arm out to prevent the remainder of your drink from spilling. You dropped it anyway. The heat from the closeness of his chest against yours burned. Howzer inhaled deeply, hovering over your lips, realizing you had just as strong of a grip on his heart as you had through the war.

He knew that it was playing with fire. That he was going to wake up tomorrow hungover and still drunk in love with you, but he kissed you anyway. He wanted to feel the softness of you lips one more time., just like on Altirax. Digging your fingers in, you pulled Howzer closer and kissed him back even harder. Your touch softened and dragged upwards across his back until your fingers stopped along the back of his neck. He pushed further, exploring deeper into your mouth as ran his hands over your shoulders and down your back.

Pulling away for a moment, Howzer shifted to kiss your neck, drawing out a gasp as he pressed kisses along your jaw, not pulling away until you were both out of breath. Blinking up at him, you smiled, before turning your head to meet Rex's stare. He was dressed in only his blacks now, one leg propped up on the couch with his arm loosely over his knee.

“Rex,” you breathed. The way you said his name, so soft and sensual, made his mouth go dry. He poured the rest of his drink back and swallowed, placing his empty glass on the table in front of him before kneeling down in front of you. Howzer's lips continued sloppily trailing across your neck. Reaching out, you touched Rex’s cheek, dragging you fingers across his skin. Though it was only moment ago he got to taste you, he felt as if he was starving. Gentle motions grew quickly grew rougher, his tongue rolling over your bottom lip.

Giving Rex control, Howzer lifted off of you and removed his blacks, hoping to give you a surprise when you were finished with Rex. Instead, he watched as you reached out and curled his fingers around Rex’s neck to pull him close. 

Howzer rolled his eyes, grabbing the hem of your shirt and tugging it over your head, breaking the kiss with Rex. He swallowed, throat tight and heat flushing through him as you and Rex snapped a displeased glare at him.

"Wouldn't want to see her overdressed for the occasion. Right, Rex?" Howzer hummed, winding a piece of your hair around his finger.

You tried to steady your breathing. Something about the mix of the alcohol, the kissing, being exposed to Howzer and Rex, and Howzer's naked body just inches above you set a fire in your core.

Shifting slightly, you propped yourself on your elbows, pulling your hair off your back before turning towards Rex and looking over your shoulder at Howzer, "Care to do the honors?".

Howzer took his time unclasping your chest band, exposing your chest to Rex. Heat flushed to Rex's cheeks at he took the sight of you in. "Here," you offered with a gentle tone, carefully taking his shirt off, a satisfied grin on your face, "much better."

Rex's hands, began to explore your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the swell of your breasts. His touch sent shivers down your already weak spine. His thumbs brushed against your nipples, causing you to arch your back into his touch.

Howzer's hands moved lower, cupping your ass, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his hardness pressing against you as he pulled you onto his lap, straddling over his hips. You let out a soft moan, your hands reaching up to tangle his hair. His lips found yours as Rex continued to tease your chest. Howzer's fingers found the band of shorts, pulling them down.

Rex's lips left yours, pulling away to remove his lower blacks. Meanwhile, Howzer's fingers found your wetness, making you moan softly as he began to stroke you. Your body moved with a fluid grace against Howzer, your hips grinding in a slow, sensuous rhythm, muffled groans pouring from his lips.

"Hey," Rex breathed, snapping your attention away from Howzer. You gaze locked onto Rex's exposed length, pre-cum already beading at the tip. While continuing to sway your hips against Howzer, you placed your tongue at the base of Rex's throbbing cock, licking slowly to the tip, keeping your eyes locked with Rex.

Rex exhaled in pleasure at the sight of your tongue on his cock. Gripping your hair with one hand, he began to tug, thrusting his length into your mouth.

You choked as Rex bottomed out at the back of your throat. Pleased with his effect on you, he pinched your nipple with his other hand, curious how far he could push you. Instinctually, you carefully grasped his balls, massaging them gentle in your hand. It was all too much for him. He was close. Too close.

He ripped his cock from your mouth, placing both hands on your shoulders and shoving you off Howzer. Your eyes widened as your back hit the couch, cool air hitting your wet folds.

"Sorry vod," he hastily apologized to Howzer before positioning himself on top of you, lining himself up between your thighs.

Before you could prepare for Rex inside you, his balls were already slapping against your ass. You let out a yelp of pain as the sudden motions stretched your walls.

As Rex continued to thrust into you, Howzer knelt at your side. Wincing, moans kept flowing from your mouth, pushing Rex closer and closer to the edge.

"Oh!" you gasped, reaching for Howzer's hair, desperate to hold onto something. Howzer pressed his lips to your forehead, one hand massaging your breast.

Rex's movement's suddenly became ferrel, and with a few especially deep thrusts, you felt his cock twitch. "Kriffing maker!" Rex moaned, emptying his balls inside you. He stopped thrusting, his body collapsing on top of yours, his breaths heavy.

Howzer stiffened, slowly lifting his lips from your forehead, darkness glazing over his eyes as he stared down Rex. In one swift motion, Howzer slid his arm under you and flipped both you and Rex over. Rex gave Howzer a startled glance.

"Don't give me that look," Howzer scoffed, hopping on the couch behind you and gripping your hips. There was an added venom in in voice, "with all due respect," he paused, running a finger across your still drenched folds. His grip on your hip tightened as he felt Rex's cum on you. Something about Rex getting to finish inside you before him lit a fire in his core. Howzer tugged your hips up, lining his erection with your soaked opening, "you have a whole lot a nerve to cum in my general." He emphasized the "my", feeling you tense at his words.

"Howzer, please," you begged. You weren't sure if you were wanting him to drop the general title or impale you. Regardless, you got the ladder.

His thrusts were rough, yet perfectly placed. Perhaps it was the different angle, but you were taken aback by how different Howzer felt compared to Rex.

Howzer continued to violently shove himself into you, your breasts bouncing against Rex's chest with each thrust. You bit down on Rex's chest as Howzer hit the right spot inside of you, your legs on the brink of going weak.

"Please," you whined, barely audible, "I'm so close Howzer."

"Oh cyar'ika," Howzer moaned, increasing the speed of his thrusts and leaning into your back, placing his mouth against your ear, "let go." As if you were under his command, you did as he instructed, crying out his name as your walls collapsed around him.

He continued to fuck you while you crumbled underneath him, the sight pushing him over the edge. You whimpered as he neared his release, your orgasm pulsating around his cock. It was too much for him. Howzer pushed himself even farther into you, releasing his orgasm in one hard thrust.

Rex wiped the beads of sweat from your forehead while Howzer finished emptying his load into you before collapsing onto your back. The scent of each other's orgasms filled the room; the sound of Howzer's breaths loud in your ear.

Half your body was sprawled over Rex, your cheek resting on his chest. He had one arm behind his head, one loosely around your neck, pullimg you closer into him. His breathing was steady beneath you, each inhale lifting you slightly. It felt like the rhythm of lullaby you didn’t realize you needed. The slow thud of his heartbeat pulsed against your ear, providing a comforting harmony.

Behind you, Howzer’s chest was pressed against your side, one arm draped on your spine, his fingers gently curled in your hair. His presence was quieter than Rex’s, but just as solid. He didn’t say anything after he finished, but you could feel the way he matched your breathing.

None of you had moved in a while. There wasn’t any need.

The passionate heat faded, replaced by something quieter and deeper. A stillness that held more intimacy than any motion could. After the actions of tonight, there was no armor left between you. No rank. No uniform. No obligations to duty.

You turned your face slightly, feeling the soft fabric of the blanket Howzer pulled from the back of the couch and draped haphazardly over all three of you. The air on your shoulder was cool, but Rex noticed your exposed skin, and pulled the blanket over. You felt him shift beneath you, just a little, tucking his chin toward your head, his nose brushing gently through your hair.

“You okay?” he murmured, voice barely more than a breath.

You nodded, feeling your lips curve faintly against his collarbone, “Yeah, I'm okay."

Rex didn’t speak again, but instead just exhaled slowly and let his fingers trace lazy, aimless patterns down your back. He didn’t grip or hold. Just touched. Light, reverent. Like he couldn’t quite believe you were really there.

And behind you, Howzer pressed a quiet kiss between your shoulder blades. Not possessive. Not urgent. Just present. A silent, steady kind of devotion.

His voice came next, low and rough with sleep, “You’re warm.”

You smiled, “So are you.”

He gave a faint hum of amusement and continued to kiss your back. You let out a content sigh as his kisses trailed to your cheek.

It struck you then, how natural this felt.

Not just the physical closeness, but the emotional gravity of it. You hadn’t meant for the night to unfold like this. You’d all just been talking, laughing and drinking, letting years of memory and unspoken connection come slowly, gently undone. There had been no plan. No confession. Just an understanding, quietly reached.

And now, you were here, held between two men who had known you in war, seen you in battle, and chosen to stay. You felt the weight of that truth settle deep in your chest.

You let out a slow breath and slid your hand up to the back of Rex’s neck, fingers combing gently through the short blond hair there. He tilted his head into the touch slightly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Because I'm a woman of my word” you sighed softly, teasing but tired, "would you two like to hear about this great threesome I had?"

He gave a quiet grunt that might’ve been a laugh, “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Your chest swelled with something warm and heavy. You leaned forward just enough to press a small kiss to his jaw, then settled again, cheek resting against his sternum.

Howzer nuzzled the back of your neck, “And I'll tell you about my Jedi sex adventure."

You softly laughed and felt Rex shift again, his hand brushing down your shoulder, pausing at your waist. His touch wasn’t asking for anything, he was just reminding you that he was there, and he was't letting you go.

You’d been so used to being strong. Resilient. Carving out safety on your own. And now, you didn’t have to.

At least not in this moment.

Behind you, Howzer adjusted, and you felt him draw up slightly, his lips grazing your hair. His breath was slower now, sleep starting to edge in. His thumb traced gentle lines over your hipbone under the blanket, rhythm steady. You could feel the weight of his head against the back of yours.

You closed your eyes and let the quiet hold you.

This wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t dramatic or messy. It was just real. Messy in the way that people are when they’re honest, when they trust, when they let the walls down and stop pretending they don’t need each other.

No one needed to say what now.

No one needed to make this more than what it was; Shared comfort, want, trust, a deep, mutual affection that had taken years to grow quietly between the cracks of war.

Your breath hitched slightly, not from tears, but from the sheer weight of being fully seen and still held close.

You shifted one hand back, threading your fingers with Howzer’s against your side . He curled his hand around yours without hesitation.

Would there would be questions in the morning? Maybe. Complications? Absolutely. But right now, you were here, between them, loved and safe.

The morning arrived slowly, like it knew not to intrude.

Cold air filled the room, but not too cold, thanks to the body heat of the two clone captains sprawled beside you. The couch definitely wasn’t made for three, but you’d made it work.

You were nestled in the middle, cocooned in a nest of wool blankets and worn cushions. One of Howzer’s arms was wrapped snug around your waist, his hand splayed across your ribs, rising and falling with your breath. He slept behind you, his cheek resting against the back of your shoulder.

Rex was in front of you, lying on his side, close enough that your legs tangled beneath the covers and your foreheads nearly touched. His arm had draped over your hip at some point during the night, and his other hand was tucked beneath the pillow. You could feel the quiet rhythm of his breathing, the subtle twitch of his fingers against your side when he shifted in his sleep.

You didn’t move.

None of you did.

here was no hum of a command post, no alarms, no rustle of datapads or orders shouted across the comm. Just the quiet, the warmth of two bodies pressed gently to either side of you, and the softness of blankets that smelled faintly of smoke and pine.

Your cheek rested against the curve of Rex’s shoulder. His skin was warm there, and smooth, save for the faint ridge of a scar beneath your jawline. You didn’t need to know the story. You already knew enough of them.

Behind you, Howzer shifted slightly in his sleep. His grip on your waist tightened for a moment, then eased, and his nose brushed the back of your neck. A low, contented sigh escaped him, almost too quiet to hear.

You closed your eyes again, letting yourself melt into the weight of them.

This wasn’t something you’d had during the war. There’d been camaraderie, yes. Deep bonds forged in the trenches and shadows. Late-night laughs in foxholes, shoulder bumps in passing, hands clasped in final moments before battle. But this was different.

You felt Rex stir slightly in front of you. Not fully awake, but just enough to turn his head so that his forehead rested against yours, skin to skin. His breath ghosted over your lips in quiet, steady waves. His hand shifted higher, resting on the dip of your spine.

You didn’t flinch or pull away. You didn’t want to.

It was strange how natural it felt. These men who had fought and bled and carried the weight of war with you were now curled against you like a buffer against everything outside. You weren’t sure what to call this or if you even needed to call it anything.

Howzer pressed a little closer behind you, his legs tangling more deliberately with yours. He was always warm and now that heat radiated against your back like an oven. You could feel the steady pulse of his heartbeat through the press of his chest to your spine, slow and strong. His presence wasn’t sharp or demanding. It simply existed, steady as the ground beneath your feet.

Rex didn’t move much, didn’t speak, didn’t even open his eyes. But his hand flexed occasionally. Just enough to remind you he was there. His thumb brushed slowly across the curve of your waist, a barely there motion, unconscious and constant. He was careful with his space, but not distant.

The quiet stretched on. Not heavy or awkward. Just full.

There was comfort in the way they fit around you, each in their own way. Howzer’s grip was instinctive, protective and anchoring, like he needed to feel you were real and close. Rex’s closeness was more deliberate, softer, a quiet presence waiting to be needed. Ultimately, they weren’t competing. Ultimately, there was no jealousy here. Only familiarity. Trust.

You wondered, briefly, how it had come to this. The war was long over. The Empire had changed everything. But somehow, the three of you had found your way back to one another; not in battle, but in the chaos after.

Rex shifted again, his hand brushing up your back before settling higher, fingertips ghosting along the curve of your shoulder blade. His breath hitched slightly, like his body wasn’t sure whether to wake or keep dreaming. He didn’t open his eyes.

You reached up and gently touched his wrist, grounding him.

The response was subtle but immediate. He stilled. Then leaned forward just enough for his forehead to rest more fully against yours.

Behind you, Howzer adjusted as well, nuzzling in with a soft hum against the back of your neck. His stubble scraped gently against your skin, and then you felt the warmth of a sigh ripple down your spine.

You were held on both sides yet somehow, it didn’t feel crowded. It felt right.

The warmth between the three of you was real, even if it existed outside the boundaries of what anyone else would call normal. But there had never been anything conventional about the bonds forged in war. And in the aftermath, when the war was over and the galaxy had lost its way, this was what made sense. Connection. Trust. Touch that asked nothing and gave everything.

It was some time before any of you truly stirred. Even then, it was gradual. A shift of hips. A sleepy hum. Fingers threading together. Rex opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the faint light, and for a long moment he just looked at you.

Then he smiled, barely awake. Just a flicker at the corner of his mouth. Enough.

You returned it, your nose brushing his.

Howzer was the last to speak, voice still thick with sleep, "We should do this more often.”

You didn’t answer. Just tightened your grip around Rex’s wrist and let your head fall back slightly against Howzer’s chest. The meaning didn’t need to be spoken aloud.

Maybe this wasn’t about romance between the three of you. It wasn’t about anything fragile or uncertain. This was something else entirely.

A promise, maybe. A refuge, maybe.

But that was something to figure out later.

Tags: @trixie2023 @shuckfaced-fangirl @blondelevy @clon3wh0r3

@melonmochiii @alice-in-wonderland111 @starrdvstkenobi @marvel-starwars-nerd @Simping-for-fives @horsegirl4561 @dominhoe-squad @Koskareevesismyqueen @thegirlwhosesilencespeakestloudest @katelynnwrites @pinkiemme @Youmaynowdothething @808tsuika @Dangerdumpling @ahsoka-padme @Stucky2k3 @Sarel-Lavellan @weragarisa @persaloodles @peacelandbread @raf-loves-everything @socloney @coffeeandtodd @gryffindorqueensworld @obiorbenkenobi @hannahhessica113 @smells_sharpies @Jedi-dreea @lightning-wolffe @ganondorf_has_greasy_balls

[greenarrow-core]

THE COMPLETE GREEN ARROW BY DENNIS O'NEIL - READING GUIDE

On The Order:

Reading this chronologically woudn't really work. He retconned his own work(for the better). However, there are notes here that would allow you to easily organize things chronologically.

There are some stories here that don't really have Green Arrow that much. You will know which ones as there will be notes on them pointing that out.

The Retconned Story and The Retcon Story:

To read chronologically without facing contradictions, just skip JLA #75 and DC Super-Stars #17, And instead read Peacemakers and The Arrow and the Bat before JLA #66.

PRE-CRISIS

DENNIS O'NEIL'S RUN ON JUSTICE LEAGUE OF AMERICA

This is the run in which everything starts. Anarchist Green Arrow, Black Canary in the League, GA and BC relationship...

He doesn't show up in 3 issues of the run(70, 73-74).

This run is also very important for Black Canary. And their relationship. This is where everything starts. Black Canary on the JLA, anarchist Green Arrow. BC and GA's relationship...

Justice League of America #66, 68-75, 77-83

GA doesn't show up in 3 issues: #70, 73-74

The latter part of this run was released during the beginning of GL/GA

PRE-CRISIS ORDER:

The order here is the DCUGuide order.

JLA #66, 68-75, 77-80

Green Lantern #76-77

JLA #81

Green Lantern #78-79

JLA #82-83

Green Lantern #80-83

Superman #236(b)

Here my bias showing. It's a short story about Krypton. GA and BC are listening to Superman telling this story. I really like this one. It's worth checking out. You get cool moments for GA and BC in the first and last page of this.

Green Lantern #84-86, 89

The Flash #217-219(b stories)

Green Lantern #90-99

DC Super-Stars #17(a)

Origin story in a flashback. The non-flashback part is following up on JLA #75

Green Lantern #102-106, 108-115

World's Finest Comics #256(b)

Team-up with Black Lighting, part of O'Neil's run on BL

Green Lantern #116-122

DC Comics Presents #20

POST-CRISIS

FROM THE QUESTION BY DENNIS O'NEIL

These stories are from O'Neil's Question run.

The Question #17-18

FABLES

Detective Comics Annual #1

Green Arrow Annual #1

The Question Annual #1

LOSING/SAVING FACE

The Question Annual #2

Green Arrow Annual #2

Green Arrow Annual #3

Epilogue of The Question's 1986 series.

THE RING, THE ARROW AND THE BAT

All stories from now on are team-ups with either Batman or Green Lantern.

Batman/Green Arrow: The Poison Tomorrow

Justice League Task Force #5-6

Part of Knightquest: The Search

Not that much Green Arrow

PEACEMAKERS

Legends of the DC Universe #7-9

This is a tale of how GA came to be the character O'Neil made him be. It retcons JLA #75

O'Neil characterize this as a Year One-type story

It works with the post-zero hour continuity. Just doesn't match certain elements of O'Neil's JLA run

It leads to GL/GA

It matches fine with GL/GA

Due to Ollie's characterization, this would have happened before JLA #66

THE ARROW AND THE BAT

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight #127-131

Sequel of Peacemakers

It's set before the last scene of Peacemakers.

DC Retroactive: Green Lantern - The '70s

This one ties Peacemakers and The Longbow Hunters.

It would fit right after the next story.

TIME ALONE

Green Lantern 80th Anniversary Super Spectacular(d)

Last published O'Neil work.

I don't know where this would fit. I would guess before Green Lantern #172. For Green Arrow, that would be after DC Comics Presents #20

[star-junk]

Only Bones

Rating: Mature

Pairings: Alastor x ReaderOC, Vox x ReaderOC, Future Lucifer x ReaderOC

Second Person POV, Change of POV, Slow burn (or fast burn - really moving through the plot quickly), please forgive the typos.

Warnings: Dark Themes: Altered state of consciousness, possessive behavior, mention of dv, non-con elements in the future, cannibalism and just things not being nice--it's Hell.

General Notes: Still not sure if Alastor will remain ace within the confines of my story. Also, operating under many assumptions for Season 2 so walk with me on this one.

Ch 2 Notes: I know nothing about TV production so I'm just winging most of this bit. Also Kudos to you if you know the song used on this chapter. Continuing with the breakneck pace bc otherwise I'd spend 5 more chapters setting shit up.

Chapter 2:

You're packaging the last bit of the pies into neat little boxes. These are smaller than the regular size you sell at the shop, they were a pain to cut but the buyer did offer to pay extra for the commission and well, how could you say no to that? They ordered every kind you had too, including the herb and cheese ones - had to pay Kory, the local smuggling succubus, extra to get the three different kinds of cheeses you needed.

The water with the devilfoot root comes to a boil, you hurry over to take it off the stove before the root disintegrates making the whole thing undrinkable. Pouring it on a separate container to sift the bits that did come off, you then add the crimson scarab from the jar of crimson scarabs Jo catches for you—and that should do it: Your very own calming remedy!

You close the old almanac gifted to you, placing it back into your tote bag to close shop too. Jo was long gone for to rest as instructed to be up for an early start tomorrow. 

Covering yourself with your old worn shawl, you adjust your tote bag underneath to brave the elements for the short trip back home. This part of the city was usually quiet compared to others, but you could never be too careful. The dagger in your bag is always accessible if you needed it—and you had needed it before. 

As you walk you’re already thinking of tomorrow, of the financial possibilities if the buyer likes the pies and they ask you to keep coming back. You might be able to reach your goal sooner than you think and though you know you shouldn't get too excited, a glimmer of hope still shines within you.

Your steps feel that much lighter over the filthy city concrete below.

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

You hold on as Jo makes a sharp turn. “Are you sure you don’t want some of my tea? You seem nervous.” 

“Nah, I’m good.” He replies. You know he's a bit of road demon but today he seems more on edge, he’s also way more chatty than usual. “So anyway, I told her she needed to get real for once and… “

You take a big gulp from your thermo letting him talk through his nervousness as VoxTek Tower comes closer. It was visible from the third floor of your apartment complex and it always seemed like such a distant aspect of life here in Pentagram City, so inconsequential to your own afterlife—but up front? You can literally feel the corporate presence sucking away your soul.

You’re directed towards the back once you pull up, and are given directions to the studio coordinator who made the order. 

There’s chaos all around you when you pull up, huge props and costumes wheeled to and from. Groups of technicians with lights and camera in tow. People with phones and clipboards shouting orders. Your van and cart of pies oddly fit right along the organized mayhem. 

“This is kinda cool.” Jo says hauling down one of the carts. 

“Right?”

Both of you do your best to avoid running into anyone on your way to the elevators, which are thankfully big enough to accommodate the carts.

The 13th floor is just as busy as the ground floor, maybe even more. You attempt to follow the sign that reads: SATURDAY NIGHT LIVE WITH FYTOR when a horde of demons rushes past you. 

“He’s here!” “Shit, do we have everything ready?” “If anything goes wrong, I … !” 

Jo glances at you and you shrug until you see him.

Vox, the CEO and owner of the VoxTek Enterprise.

He made sure his image was unavoidable if you resided in any part of the Pride Ring, more so than any of the other Overlords if you were one to keep up to date. 

“Wow.” Jo says.

And he’s right, the Overlord has so much more presence in person, towering over those crowding him.

“Woah there, no pictures, no pictures.” He says while fixing his coat, all long limbs and charisma. “I’m here on business, my valuable employees.” 

“And so are we.” You remind Jo, who continues to gawk at the Overlord.

“I’ve seen two Overlords in less than a month, it must be a sign or something, Nuria.” He says, glancing back.

“I hope it's a sign for wealth.” You reply.

Soon you’re at the back of the set, speaking with Myrna, the bizarre horse-snake chimera mix. “This all of them?” She asks with the same thick southern accent you heard on the phone.

“Yes, ma’am, all hundred of them.” You answer. Jo is ready with receipt and pen. “Now if you could sign here just to verify our delivery.” 

She ignores you as she grabs one of the pies, taking it out of its tiny box eating it all in one bite. You and Jo look at each other, unsure now if you’ll be paid. This wouldn’t be your first time, not because of the quality of the pies but because it was Hell and people were generally assholes, specially when it came to paying up sometimes.

“Oh Goodness Gracious!” She finally says, turning around to sign your form and grabbing another pie from the cart. You breathe easy again. “Set them over there, sugar.”

“A pleasure to do business with you!” You offer a smile and a handshake. “We hope we can continue catering your events!” 

“Of course!” She responds already walking away ignoring your hand. You sigh, so much for networking. 

You get busy anyway, moving some things around in the already lavish snack table to make room for your delivery Upon seeing who was visiting, the elaborate set up made sense. “I think we’re going to need another table.” You finally admit defeat after playing tray tetris, some stuff looked too expensive to touch.

“Let me see if I can find someone.” Jo offers.

And you’re left there to wait while he does that, that's what you liked about Jo an observant self-starter, you should look into increasing his pay soon. You're thinking that watching the crew work, it really does take a lot of manpower to get production on air. You kind of wish you had been invited to the ‘Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister So What?’ Set instead. It was your guilty pleasure, putting it on as background noise while you worked on the pies for the following day. Maybe you’ll get lucky and see one of the actors on your way out. 

“Homemade pie?! It’s been decades!” A crisp male voice says from behind. 

Great, a potential customer! “Oh, our shop has been op— “ It’s Vox, the very CEO you saw on the halls before. He's leaning over the table taking in the smell.

“Are you the owner?” He asks sizing you up, his eyes going from your horns, face, body and finally settling on the wings at your hips. He quirks a brow at the sight, you hide them further back, a knee jerk reflex whenever people looked at them too long. You hated them.

“I sure am, sir. A pleasure to meet you.” You extend a hand out before he comments on the wings.

He takes your hand, doing a little bow to meet your eyes. “Well I do love a woman that can cook!” You do your best to keep the frown off your face. But aside from that, it was truly impressive to see the Overlord up-close. The light from his screen engulfs you in the low light of the set as his upper body tilts closer and you have to squint to keep the light from hurting your vision. “One so pretty as well. Are you one of the guests. What do you go by, doll?” 

“You’re too kind, sir. Nuria is the name. And no, sir, we're just here for delivery.”

“Vox, Sir! We were looking all over for you. The producer is eager to meet you.” A crew member emerges from one of the curtains. “Follow me, please.” They urge.

“Of course, of course. My apologies.” He answers, brilliant smile back on. “But I hope to see you around, Nuria.” He says letting go of your hand with a wink and a light sting of electricity from his body to the underside of your wrist. Your hand pulls back startled, he chuckles as he struts away.

Jerk, you murmur under your breath.

Jo comes back a few moments later dragging a large folding table borrowed from somewhere. 

“Let me give you a hand!”

You finish fairly quickly after that, when Myrna comes back again, taking the last bite of her second pie and seemingly ready for a third one. “You’re welcome to stay if you’d like.”

“Really?” Jo chirps. And you don’t have the heart to say no, your wrist still tingling from her boss' "greeting."

You’re herded to a corner though, where several screens show different angles of the set. One screen dictates what’s to happen at which times intervals during the show. One segment draws your attention. Special Guests, it reads, the name of the performing musical group - and then a live performance of a song you immediately recognize.

Sudden screaming from one of the hallways leading to another part of the studio has you and Jo glancing around. There’s the sound of slamming doors and objects being thrown around followed by a string of swears accompanied by several footsteps running towards the source of the screams.

“What the fuck is going on now?!” Myrna screams into her headset as she follows the chaos.

“Maybe it’s time we skedaddle?” Jo suggests scratching his cheek in mild concern.

But now it’s you who doesn’t want to leave. “We’ll be fine, Jo, besides I really want to see this.” You point to the screen. “Mamá Tozi, my grandmother, used to play this song all the time when I was little. It’s an oldie but a goodie, didn’t expect to see it here of all places.” You explain. “Want me to teach you how to dance cumbia?” 

“No?“ 

Too late you’re already grabbing his hands, placing them in position. “Let’s see, it goes 1, 2, 3… Nunca es suficiente para mí… ” You step forward, tilting one hip to the side and then to the other. It’s a bit difficult without the actual beat of the song but you manage following your own, “Tan-tan-tan, tan... “ Jo tries his best to follow along. “Porque siempre quiero más de ti. Yo quisiera hacerte más feliz.” And then a hum for the parts there’s no words for. You move his hand while keeping the other in a loose grip so you can do a half twirl and return to position, then motion with your hand for him to do the same. He follows through and you giggle as Jo rolls his eyes but continues to follow along. “Mi corazón estalla por tu amor. ¿Y tú que crees que esto es muy normal? Acostumbrado estás tanto al amor.”

“You know the song?” Myrna asks out of nowhere, you let go of Jo's hands (you hadn't notice when she came back.) “Have you performed before?” She presses.

“No… ” She didn't need to know about your previous stint at the Feisty Minx.

“Well there’s always a first time for everything.” Oh you did not where this was going.

“Turns out the vocalist for our scheduled group is feelin’ a little under the weather t’day, and by that I mean she’s too fucking wasted to even stand up, so we’re gonna need to improvise.” We? Who’s we? “Our CEO is here.” Our?

“Well I do wish you the best of luck and would you look at the time, Jo, we should be driving back soon.” You say looking at the black screen of your phone, then search for Jo’s hand again to get out of there as quickly as possible. But Myrna’s talons snatch your arm first. 

“Hey!” Jo tries to reach for you, but she easily pushes him back with the other hand. 

“You’ll do just as well.” She sneers.

“There’s no way you think I’ll get out there to put on a performance! Are you nuts?!” You drop the professional act, glaring at her instead - trying not to wince in pain, her grip hurts.

“I don’t think - I know you will.” She says, you’re standing on the tip of your toes with the way she continues to hold onto you. “Or there won’t be any payment for the order, AND I’ll make sure to run your little shop’s reputation to the ground. Would that be enough motivation for you?” 

“Oh yeah?” Jo speaks up, “You don’t know who you’re messing with!” Myrna hisses at him as response.

“I want triple the pay for the pies.” You say before Jo says anything else. There’s no need to involve Rosie.

Her eyes narrow. “Whatever.” She says and calls for a dressing room assistant. 

“Nuria, but… “ Jo whispers.

“It’s okay, I’ll be fine, and we’ll make a killing on this one.” You smile as Myrna drags you further back. 

__________________________________________________________

He sits right on the front row.

Fights the urge to yawn while waiting for the next section as his employees scamper behind the camera. Someone offers him a second cup of whiskey which he takes without even looking to see who is offering it, he should really try to make an effort to actually engage with them. It was easier to win them over with feigned kindness than by force (though his peers would disagree). Especially now that they had the entire playing field to themselves.

It was the reason why he was there at all. To ensure the 'magic of TV' ran smoothly for captivating quality content. Their plan to monopolize Hell depended on them capturing as much support from the public as possible, by any means necessary. Indeed, with the battle against heaven broadcast he could feel himself growing in influence and power as every wretched sinner tuned in to watch. So strike and improve while the iron is hot was one of his many mottos.

It’s all he thinks as he watches the Host announce the next performer.

The lights dim as the cameras focus on the stage.

The lively melody of a trumpet is followed by the rest of the band’s instruments as flood lights cast over the vocalist at the center of the stage.

A tight sequin dress glimmers with the curve of her swaying hips, her shoulders also moving to the beat of the music.

But then she sings and suddenly it's the most interesting thing he’s seen all week. 

“Oh thank fuck!” Vox overhears one of the producer’s heads loud-whisper to someone on his right. 

“ Y tú te vas jugando a enamorar. Todas las ilusiones vagabundas que se dejan alcanzar.“ Her voice young and smooth in Spanish, he understands very little but knows them to be of a romantic melancholic nature. She spins, grabbing one of the trumpet players to accompany her on her dance and her solo dance from before flourishes with the new companion.

“Who’s that?” He finally asks, curious.

“She’s ah… an up and coming artist.” The producer’s heads answer in unison, then go over his notes to look for her actual name. The CEO watches as the ratings are directly sent to his screen. 

“Oh yeah?” He says taking a swing of his whiskey, liking the data he’s receiving.

“Nunca es suficiente para mí. Porque siempre quiero más de ti.” Her voice rises without losing the harmony in it, the musicians behind her faithfully follow her rhythm, nearing the end of the song. The numbers on Vox’ screen hit are all time high for the month, impressive considering this show’s underperformance in ratings.

“Wowowee!! How do you like them apples?” Fytor, the Host, gestures for a round of applause that goes on for some time. Someone whistles in admiration. “Los Demonios Azules!! Premiering our cultural segment, everyone.” He says for one last round of applause before the cut. 

And just like that, the vocalist who sang with such charm and charisma only moments prior drops the microphone and yanks the colorful fur wrap off her shoulders to throw it on the floor as well. Vox barely catches the moment she also yanks the gloves off her hands, stomping off the stage in a petty tantrum that could rival one of Val’s. 

“Well, looks like your little variety show gets to survives another year!” Vox remarks as he gets up from the chair. Both of the producer’s heads beam at the news. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” He says, adjusting his clothes in place before zapping himself away from the set to the dressing rooms.

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

You’re taking off the gaudy and incredibly heavy earrings you were made to wear when a spark of electric blue appears behind you and you get up alarmed holding onto the dresser behind you. “Holy— “

VoxTek’s CEO materializes before you. 

“Greetings, my dear!” He smiles, “I don’t believe we were introduced.” 

The initial shock wears off quickly. “Yes we were!” You tear the humongous blonde wig off your head, then smear part of the makeup off with one hand. 

There is a pause where only the muffled screaming of the neighboring dressing room is audible. The band you performed with was infighting over the close call they had thanks to their drunken vocalist. 

“The pie girl?!” He asks incredulous after a moment before doubling over in laughter as if you just told the funniest joke he'd ever heard. Your fists tighten at your sides.

“Is everything ok in there?” Jo asks knocking at the door. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Be there soon, just taking care of a new fan.” You shout, voice dripping with sarcasm. You’re angry at being made to perform like a little wind up monkey but him laughing over it infuriates you even more. “Your bitch of an employee, Myrna, threatened to withhold my pay for the pies if I didn’t replace the singer.” You struggle to untie the gladiator shoes. How the fuck did they tie these damn shoes on you?! “Your guests suck, by the way.” 

“My sincerest apologies, my dear. I’ll make sure you get paid, money is not an issue.” He says going on knee to undo the knot. You pause, surprised by the gentleness in the sudden action. He takes all the time in the world taking off the shoe, then motions for the other foot placing it over his knee, no minding soiling his very expensive looking trousers.

“Ever thought about a career on television?” His tone is casual as he works.

“No, sir,”  You reply, all anger fizzled out, but quick to take your foot back, “I already have a contract with someone.”

The expression on the screen changes, now intrigued. “Oh? And may I know who the lucky demon is?” Hoping the answer will deter further questions you answer truthfully. 

“Rosie.” 

His screen glitches for a second, distorted static repeats the name. “Ro-rosie? Cannibal Town's Rosie? You don’t say!” 

You immediately sense that might have been the wrong answer, having forgotten the intricate web of relationships Hell’s Overlords maintained - and if his reaction was anything to go by, Rosie might not be someone he particularly cares for, for whatever reason. 

You reach for your clothes inching towards the door with the sequin dress still on, you don’t want to find out what else he might say. Or do over the new information. 

“Yes, sir, now if you’ll excuse me.” 

He slams the door shut when you open it and for a moment prickling fear overtakes you. Shit. You’re too scared to meet his eyes, feel him instead stand very close to you, but then the tie holding your wings together at your back to hide them comes off.

“This one hid from me.” You don’t need to see the cocky smile displayed on his screen as he speaks, “Here’s my assistant’s contact if you ever get tired of making pies, doll.”

“Thank you, I appreciate the offer, sir” You whisper, tone calm despite the lump in your throat, taking the card offered. 

Jo straightens up when the door opens. You school your face into neutrality so as not to freak him out. 

“C’mon, let’s go.” 

Though you’re sure he catches a glimpse of the CEO as the door closes behind you.

________________

You work in silence for the rest of the week, the small tv in the shop’s kitchen remained disconnected, missing several episodes of Yeah, I Fucked Your Sister, So What? Testament of the bad taste the trip to VoxTek Tower left in your mouth. But it was nothing a good bath of crushed roses and herbs couldn’t fix. You had Jo do the bath too to make sure las malas vibras didn’t linger, even if “This is Hell, Nuria, we are all made of bad vibes.”

And before you knew it, Rosie’s new shipment arrived and that occupied your mind instead.

“No heads this time, Theo?”

“Nah, old hag Susan got it in her head that she wanted to start a forever soup business. Rosie would only let ‘er have the heads though.” 

“I see.” Works for you, that was the least favorite part you liked to work with, all that hair and eyeballs… made it hard to pretend it was sinners—not just regular game meat. Some things you don’t think you’ll be able to get used to no matter how many years passed down here.

You worked quickly, more than usual, finding yourself eager to see Rosie. Maybe out of some odd need to feel reassured under her protection. Which is how you found yourself at her place in less than two days.

You’re almost done at the Town’s plaza uneasily distributing the pies, without major incident. They listen, for the most part, Susan giving you a bit of a hard time but Theo was there to reinforce authority where usually Rosie would be the one overseeing the distribution. Today though, you were told, she was entertaining important company.

“Well, that’s the last of them.” You keep one for Rosie. Theo walks you to her place, chatting about the colony’s new found reputation from dangerous bloodthirsty savages to dangerous heroic bloodthirsty savages. 

“I’m sure that’s gotta count for something, Theo.” You nod along as you walk up to Rosie’s.

“Nuria, my precious girl!” Rosie calls out as soon as you enter her place. She’s coming for a hug, you barely have time to move the pie out of the way as she smothers you into her bosom. She seems more cheery than usual. “Come, come. I want you to meet my friend.” She says pulling you along to a table at the back. You don't think much of it this time either - as she's always trying to get you socialize more.

“Alastor, honey, this is Nuria! The girl I told you so much about.” 

Her long fingers wiggle as she motions to the man sitting by the table.

Alastor? Oh but that can't be...

You're frozen, pie in hand as the Radio Demon himself stands, the shadow covering his form dissipating to reveal his tall slender form. 

So this was The Important Company. 

“Charmed!” He smiles, the crackling static of his voice immediately setting you on edge.

Rosie's hand at your back gently pushes you forward to respond.

“Likewise, sir.” You manage, taking his hand in greeting. The handshake is solid and unexpectedly friendly.

"Oh now, Nuria, is okay—he doesn't bite, for the most part!" They both chuckle at the shared joke. You force yourself to chuckle along too.

“I stopped by your pie shop the other day, but it was about to close I’m afraid.” Of course, you heard all about it from Jo.

“Ah y-yes, my assistant did mention it. But please do visit again, we do make a couple of extra pies for special clientele.” You had to, some people didn’t take no for an answer.

“It wasn’t necessary, I was just passing by and the smell got my attention. It worked out for the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to try them in such good company.” He motions to Rosie.

“Oh Alastor, there you go again.” She says absolutely smitten. “Let me make us some more tea now that the refreshment is here. I mean the pie, Nuria, don’t fret.” You laugh; ha-ha! Yes, funny.

“Well then,” Clearing your throat you set the pie on the table, “it’s been a pleasure— “

“Aht, aht aht! I know what you’re about to do, dear, and I’m not having it.” Rosie’s hands rest at her hips. “Sit down, you’re a guest today.” 

“Oh but I… “ You shut up when she levels you with a look, not quite threatening yet, but getting there. You have never taken her there. Still, “I can help prepare the tea, I know this great recipe— “

“Sit down.”

You sit on the nearest chair. 

“Be right back~!” She shimmies away to her kitchen.

So you’re left alone with her friend. You knew at the periphery of awareness of the rumors about Rosie and the Radio Demon being close, but you never expected, nor in all honesty wanted, to run into him or any of her acquaintances. In and Out was your tried and proven method of operation. It had kept you safe, figures the one time you decided to stay at the VoxTek Tower you would—

“Lovely weather we’re having today.” His static voice takes you out of your thoughts.

“Hm? Oh yes, quite nice, I mean as nice as it can get.” You answer. 

“My, Rosie was not kidding when she said you were a very new here.” He observes, and you’re not sure how to take that. “How are you finding the new lifestyle?” He asks, tone polite.

What an odd thing to ask, miserable of course - everyone was miserable down here, but you get the feeling he wasn’t looking for honesty as much as just conversation. So you oblige. “Well, all things considered. It’s not too bad I suppose. I haven’t been purged yet so there’s that.” 

“Ah, an optimist, a rare breed. My cat could learn a thing or two from you.” He says crossing his legs.

“Your cat, sir?” 

“Please, call me Alastor, we can’t be that far apart in age when death came to us.” 

True, but calling him solely by his first name felt odd with the way he talked and just his general seniority over you in hell. “Um, what year did you… erm pass? if it’s not too rude to ask of me?”

“1933! And what a year it was.”

Oh wow. “That was during the Great Depression, am I correct? My grandmother was born during that period in history, quite amazing when you stop to think it.” 

“Well I have been called old in nastier ways I suppose,” He laughs, your hand covers your mouth.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to insult.”

“Oh it's quite alright, I was merely messing with you!” He chuckles, “It sounds like your grandmother was very precious to you.” 

“Of course, my grandmother was a very wise woman, though I think most would say that about their mothers.”

“And you would be right, my dear, mothers, grandmothers, matriarchs—all irreplaceable pillars of support in a decent society.” He responds and maybe you were being way too dramatic when Rosie introduced you to him.

“Tea is ready~! I hope both of you are getting along.” Rosie sings-songs with a tray of freshly brewed tea. 

“We’re getting along just fine.” Alastor replies. 

“Good, good.”

You busy yourself with helping Rosie cut the pie, serving two slices, relieved Rosie thought to bring cookies alongside the tea so you would have that instead. 

“I hope it’s to your liking.” You serve Rosie’s guest first as she watches on, pleased.

“I’m sure I will, dear.” He replies. And it’s so strange how different, how normal, he actually is from the rumors on the street. They made him seem almost otherworldly even by hell’s standards. 

“Delicious as always, Nuria.” Rosie exclaims at the first bite. You smile in response. “Go on, Alastor, give it a try.”

He follows suit. “There has yet to be the occasion where you have been wrong, my dear friend. One can still taste the panicked screams.”

Now that made him sound closer to the stories about him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Oh she calls you ‘sir,’ Alastor, isn’t she precious!” She says pinching your cheek. 

“I already said there’s no need. But I do appreciate the good manners.” He replies before taking another bite of the pie. “You know Charlie has been talking about a Grand Re-opening ceremony for the Hotel. I think these tasty treats would do a wonderful addition to the event!” 

You almost choke on your tea.

“My Goodness, you are right!” Rosie’s dark eyes set on you expectantly. “What do you say, Nuria?”

Clearing your throat, you think of the nicest way to refuse. “I’d love to but I think we’ll be taking a break from commissions for a bit.”

“Oh? But didn’t you just get a really big one from VoxTek?”

You cough to clear your throat, oblivious to the way her guest’s eyes narrow at the mention  “Yes, well… “

“Don’t tell me they didn’t pay you!” You can hear Rosie’s mood quickly souring, her demeanor darkening.

“No, no! On the contrary, they paid me thrice as much but—hm. I should, maybe I should start from the beginning.” So you tell them how your little jokey-joke dance forcefully landed you in front of the cameras and consequently with an offer by VoxTek’s CEO himself to work for his company, omitting the specific detail of how the offer was extended to you. “The whole ordeal was very degrading to be completely honest. I’m just thankful Jo and I were able to leave in one piece.”

“Ha! Why this sounds like the plot of a spicy novel!” The Radio Demon chuckles bemused. “A regular girl’s break into stardom by a sudden twist of sheer luck!” Rosie swats at him with her fan when she sees you’re not laughing along this time.

“Alastor, can you not this once?” After glaring at him she turns to you. “That’s terrible, darling! I’m sorry that happened. But do let me know if they ever give you any more trouble.” She says placing a hand over yours.

“Thank you, Rosie.” You already feel better about telling her about the ordeal, all you needed was to feel safe. “I think I got it for now.”

“That’s my girl.” 

“Well rest assured, Nuria, Charlie has far more class than the demons at the Vee tower. I can arrange for a visit if you’d like. I think it would benefit you as Rosie tells me you're saving up to move out of Pentagram City, though I can't imagine why anyone would want live away from such wonderful daily entertainment.” Oh wow, Rosie really did talk a lot about you. “Think of it as helping a friend of a friend.” His face and eyes are all sweet charisma, they look almost genuine. And you wonder if he’s only nice to you due to his friendship with Rosie or because he really is just like that with some people. “The reward could be handsome, she is the Princess of Hell after all, I’m sure you’ll be able to name your price once you charm her.”

Oh boy, the delivery van will be due for maintenance soon too…

“Does she have a date for the re-opening yet, sir?” 

Both Rosie and her guest share a smug look of triumph. 

[makoredeyes]

Keep it coming you say? 👀 I saw that tag! I'm ~quite~ bored, so here's a couple questions/whatever they're considered, lol.

Yes, flattery will get me very far here, indeed! To where? I do not know, but whatever, compliments! You deserve them. I'm rather sure my friends are tired of hearing me go on and on about destiny characters, ':)

How's your writing wip's going so far? I'm waiting very (im)patiently for any updates, I've totally not re-read everything forty-two times.. hope their all going well!

A little self indulgence here, but I like to think Andal Brask was the Hunter Vanguard when Osiris and Saint-14 were in, because.. come on, I'm rather sure the time frame adds up. I like to believe before, because their dynamic just seems really fun to me. Lots of great opportunities. (I partly blame that one fanart sylenth-l made of Andal and Osiris for this, it was really funny). What do you think their dynamic would be like?

What do you think it'd be like if the Iron Lords mysteriously came back alive? 👀 I'm talking, SIVA couldn't actually kill them because their ghosts hid in the light in their bodies, and SIVA only goes after non-organic materials right? Maybe it couldn't work it's way into the light, and as long as their ghost + light are intact, = alive. But *only* after the Warmind managed to get control over SIVA and free their physical bodies from harm? It's a thought I had, influenced by a few fics but I quite like the idea. Just imagine, a ghostless, lightless Osiris receiving word that maybe, they weren't as dead as he thought they were. Or Fel and Timur coming back only to realize what happened to Osiris?? Poor Sagira?? Learning lady Efrideet's alive? 👀 (Is that her name?)

Or perhaps, In this one fic, it's Timur and his special, take over your will little stunt he has, was keeping SIVA at bay, I think that's pretty neat too! So many possibilities! (If you were the one that wrote these, I hope you see this as a compliment cause I am not about to go dig through Ao3 to find them xD)

Either way, it'd be like a modern!au of the iron lords, for them at least, hah (I can just imagine Gheleon having a mental breakdown that their memorial involved fighting one another)

I can't really think of anything, but rest assured I will *probably* be back once I'm dome tormenting my poor boy Tevis

Ahaha yeesss YESSSS I feed me I'm such an attention whore lmao RIP XD. (fr tho bless you ;_; )

I am writing! There are longer gaps between posts rn because I have lots going on in my life, but also, because I am working on many fics at once. I counted the other day I have 26 WIPs but six I am actively working on in concert - three for Housefire that are all directly intermingled plot and timing-wise to the point where I'm not even entirely sure what order I'll be posting them in yet, another chapter for Things Found (I am trying to stay 2 chapters ahead with that to make sure I have a cohesive story for it), and two XXX stand-alone one-shots! I should fish out another teaser for everyone soon. I think it'll be one of the one-shots that makes it out next tbh they're the furthest along. But the naughty stuff is also the slowest to get written bc I yanno...can't write that stuff at work, etc. haha. But I've felt a new wind of motivation lately for writing and am picking away at these projects pretty regularly. <3

I'm going to admit I am not very well-read on the hunter squad in general, BUT iirc I believe Andal was Vanguard during the City Age. He was definitely around as I recall his presence in the comics. The problem with that time is that Osiris was largely absent. This was when the Cult of Osiris was gaining traction, and Osiris' obsession with the Darkness and the Vex was really heating up. He was neglecting his duties to the Vanguard (with Ikora often standing in as proxy for him) and he wasn't really paying attention to anyone else. Like. At all. There was a lot of unhappy tension even with Saint at that time. Andal, by all accounts, was a damn good fella though, and while I think just about everyone nettled Osiris, Andal also stuck up for him where he could. Even if Osiris couldn't appreciate that in the moment I'm sure he would come to later. I look at Osiris and see him as he is now, with some hard lessons learned and some hard losses under his belt, realizing a little too late some of the damn good souls he had in his court, Andal included. All of that said, 100% in a lighter, easier setting, a free-spirit like Andal (and/or Cayde...heaven forbid them both together!) would drive a stuffed shirt like Osiris up an absolute freaking wall with pure comical results, hands down.

(a side note, a brain storm, an insane thought that just poisoned my brain - a sweeter moment hidden from time: Andal's guitar and this gift of song Saint has hinted Osiris has....??????! I'm not melting it's just hot in here, right???)

As for Ironsbane and SIVA... I have INDEED put an awful lot of thought into this. Quite a lot. So much. I have my own ideas on ways to circumvent the disaster, O Reader Mine, but you're going to have to wait a while longer for me to write it. :3 (Housefire is, after all, ultimately, a fixit )

*but no SIVA attacks whatever it is programmed to, organic or not: and Rasputin set it on hundreds of Iron Lords and wiped them all out with the sole exception Efrideet and Saladin with the directives “REPLICATE, ELIMINATE, IMMUNIZE” it was not what SIVA was made to do but he deliberately repurposed it into a weapon. (I could go on for years about Rasputin and his darker epochs, but especially his misappropriation of SIVA lol)

** Your mention of Timur and his spooky skills DID remind me of another fic I need to get back to as well OTL TT_TT I still have requests I took in January I have yet to complete. At this rate it's going to take me all year to get them all done and by then I'll be taking more aahaha whuups.

[i-writes-things]

I am requesting specifically bc you said it was okay!!! I would DIE for a Wanda or a Natasha x teen sister reader where r just wants to do normal fun teen things but bc Wanda or nat hadn’t done anything like it when they were teens they like freak out over anythinggggg (being 5 mins off curfew or missing one lesson at school automatically means being kidnapped by a villainous organization ofc ofc) idk if that idea makes sense but I have many thoughts and a bad way of saying them so if it doesn’t then please tell me and I can fix it!!!! Love you appreciate you stan you and your works theyre my silly little comfort scenarios ur so important to me n the world OKAY BYE LY

FunDeadly? Detours...

Omg this is so sweet WHAT! Thank you very much! I appreciate you for supporting me! :)

Second addition in the MARVEL EVENT

We started light today. Tomorrow not so much...

"It's fine, they know where I am at all times anyway."

Joking around down the street with your backpack on you walk towards the arcade. And spend the afternoon there.

-

"JARVIS! Where is she?"

"Whom are you talking about?" His crackled from above. Like everyone assumes God would talk to them.

"Y/N! She- she said 3:15. That's when she would be home every day. By then I'll be snacking in the kitchen. That's what she said. I remember."

"Miss Y/n is currently at the MorrisHead Arcade."

"What?"

"You need some back up?" The red head walked in.

"Let's go! Jarvis, where at this place is she?" Her loud footsteps echoed down the hall, mirroring her fast heartbeat.

"In the back, near the concession stand."

"No one takes my little sister." Her red powers flared in her eyes as her and Natasha left to get Y/n back. Little did they know.

-

Beep boop beep bop boop boop beep

"Hahhahah!" You leaned back, laughing at your friend, who was pointing out an Avengers poster on the wall. The artist had given Steve more nose than face.

"I am so taking a picture." Peter started to pull out his phone and walked over as a guy behind the counter with a yellow and red striped hat, came up with two paper plates and the smell of good pizza.

"Order for Spiderman!" He said, sounding like an ex-surfs up dude.

You took the plates as you heard a girl with the same striped hat yell out for Iron Man's order, which made a group of kids race around you toward the concession.

"Hey Pete, do you think that Wanda and them get paid for all the advertising they get legitimately everywhere." He was giggling at his phone as you shoved his slice of pizza into his hands. You had to talk over all the screams. Little kid screams with pizza in your mouth and cheese not wanting to stop you turn your head toward the front. Peter gave you a look. His spider-sense.

"Wah?" You said.

"Eat your pizza and get ready to save the day." He stood and started to cautiously walk around. Wiping your hand from crusty pizza bits, Peter jumped onto the ceiling. Just his spidy mask on. You froze. You had made it into the spotlight, and it blasted into your dark adjusted eyes.

"Y/n!" You heard her voice the second she said anything.

"Natasha? What's going on?"

"Where the hell have you been?"

"What?"

"3:15? My ass!" Her voice turned into a shout.

"Put the gun away!" You whisper-yelled at her. "There's kids here, one, and two, what is going on?" You asked astonishingly confused.

"We came to..."

"To...? What?"

"To save you." Wanda finishes.

"Save me? From what? From King Kong? Or the Leap Frog? Or Wreck-It-Ralph? Maybe Mrs. Pac-Man was holding me hostage!" You were so stunned that they acted like everything was literally life or death.

"That's not funny."

"You could have died."

"How? I am 10x stronger than everyone here. Besides Peter."

"Peter's here?"

"Where is that spider monkey?" Natasha muttered, putting her gun away and realizing the laughter and safety of the place.

"Did you ask him yet-"

"Shhh! What are you talking about!"

"Ask Peter what?" Natasha took a step towards you.

"Nothing." You glared at Wanda.

"You want to ask Peter nothing?"

"Yes. Can we go?" You said.

"I want to try the Pac-Man game." She stepped up to it, getting her powers out and at the ready.

"Wands, no. Oh my gosh. This is gonna take forever..."

"Wait but what did you want to ask Peter?"

"Yeah?" Peter's high pitched voice came from the ceiling as she firstly was going to cheer Wanda on but also is wondering about Natasha's question.

"Aaaa! Peter you can't do that!"

"Do what?" He quickly flipped back on the ground, removing his mask and shaking his hair, like a scene from a movie.

"We're cheering Wanda on. Right. Right. Wanda go right. Not- You got it."

--

"Y/n!!!"

"What are you doing here?"

"Get out here now." Moving out of your seat, and having a pretty awkward walk to the hall as Natasha had told you off infront of everyone.

"Take me to Miss Jefferson. I want to know why she marked you absent," She checked her phone. "42 minutes ago."

"What? No. I have math class. I don't want to miss anything. It wasn't Miss J's fault."

"Oh?"

"Well..."

"Where were you then. Y/n?"

"Nowhere."

"That's not a place I've heard of."

"I skipped, okay!"

"You could have died!"

"Not everything I do is going to be an apocalyptic event."

-

@ravensinthedaylight @may-z3 @youre-a-total--poser @betzabobababi @book-place @scarthefangirl @darkstar225

[nomsfaultau]

(Potentially) Daily ask №

PS. Potentially cause I probably won't stick to it

So, I was sitting on a lesson and then I realised that you allowed me to send you asks so I wrote out whatever questions came to my mind about Fault.

Wilbur edition!

His legs rearrange to be the highest individual in the room, yes? Is the hair or hats included in that? What if I wear an absurdly tall hat? Will he be taller than it or than my actual height?

He controls darkness or is darkness what I got out from your shitposts. What if I shine a really bright light on him. Okay but what if I go brighter. Or even brighter.

Do only his legs rearrange themselves to be taller? Does his torso stay the same? Does he occasionally look like a beginner artist who hasn't gotten the hand of proportions yet drew him?

If there's an illusion but he doesn't know it is one, will he be taller than it?

You said that he controls the darkness and all things that crawl in it. Moles technically crawl in the darkness. Can he control them? Mole pet when?

Would he and Nico di Angelo from Percy Jackson and the Olympus get along?

I've noticed that he doesn't get as much content as the other blorbos? Is there a reason?

The "Foreign no matter where he goes" post made me sad. The guy deserves a home even if his literal being won't allow it apparently. Can I hug him and how likely am I to die if I do that? Spontaneously hugging and asking first both possibilities included pls ^^

Okay that's all beeyeee

I am enthused to answer any questions and absolutely no pressure at all to ask them!

It goes to biological height not clothing, so a hat or stilts wouldn’t change his assorted height. Although doesn’t tend to count hair. It typically works mostly on humanoids who have matter but he can will it work on say The Blade, who at some point jokes that Wilbur’s height does not take into account his crown of bone-antler things. At which point yes it does screw you and it always has, mildly rewriting everyone’s memory of how tall Wilbur is. It’s a very mild and mostly useless form of magically controlled information.

He has a void on the left side of his face where shadowy eldritch monstrosities come out of. Wilbur can’t entirely control them especially when scared, but can give orders that may be followed or bargains that have to be followed but cost him something. They deffo get worse at night, and you’re on the money! The voidlings despise concentrated light. They do fine in normal light conditions, but flashlights and spotlights they don’t appreciate and will avoid, usually by fleeing into Wilbur’s face or risk dissolving. Wilbur himself is not harmed since he’s made out of flesh and bone (and arguably accurate organ arrangements). Hence the Foundation trapping it in very bright light 24/7. Godflame, which is what Philza is made of, is so anathema to the void that if it intersects with void shadow they both annihilate one another bc it’s a universal paradox to be in one place. Wilbur despises flashbangs in particular, but also doesn’t like complete darkness bc it can’t trust the void completely.

His proportions do not change at all! Which can look very silly. This is roughly its proportions when taller than The Blade.

(From casefiles again)

4. The height thing is not very controlled by him and would not work on an illusion. At which point Wilbur would like deduce the creature before him isn’t made out of matter.

5. It has some degree of control over shall we say capital Darkness that specifically comes from the void in his head and that are still connected by shadowy tethers to the void. Wilbur could potentially try to?? Manipulate the mole??? It would difficult as they don’t have a very robust language system but they are eusocial so I assume they have some level of communication. Since Wilbur can speak all languages it could potentially have rudimentary communication with the mole..? Honestly he’s more likely to eat it than keep it as a pet alas. He’s rather pragmatic, and feeding something that serves no purpose doesn’t make sense to a guy who’s spent most of his life on the verge of starving. Uh. Tommy excluded of course. 6. Well they’re both certainly edgy shadow guys for sure. Wilbur at least wouldn’t be racist to him once he realizes Nico is only half human. Potentially bonding over wrestling with powers, and not feeling like they fit in anywhere. Wilbur would probably think him stupid and gullible for falling for Minos’ manipulations tho, and wouldn’t cut him any slack for being young. 7. My focus on each of them sorta shifts around. I’m a bit on the Tubbo area atm though it’s about to transition to be more The Blade heavy. The first arc of section 2 was rather more Wilbur centric, with him on his own trying to defend the ‘kids’ and making some bad decisions in the process via deals with the devil. There’s lots of fun to be had with it in the future, particularly in section ~4 but also five main characters is a bit of a juggle sometimes. And also while SCP Wilbur feels distinct to me from the actual guy, it’s still sometimes hard to work with him because of his progenitor since I want the character to be fully unbiased when I’m writing it. 8. Part of Wilbur’s arc is to stop pretending it prefers life on the run and really does want a home. Not that living in a society is really possible, but it’s not called found family for nothing! It’ll have to be something made. And Wilbur is of a personal philosophy where he doesn’t kill anyone unless he thinks they’re about to kill him. Very golden rule, if often very vicious bc it doesn’t control the void completely. So, you’re very unlikely to die from a hug! If given a spontaneous embrace it’d probably be a little startled, but try to keep it brief since it doesn’t pass for human under close inspection and would prefer to avoid anything that could mean the Foundation finding it. If asked, he’ll probably calculate the risk of discovery versus social friction leading to greater attention, and accept the hug for appeasement. Since Wilbur really mostly hugs Phil, he’d likely find it surprisingly cold, and be perhaps too affectionate since he doesn’t know the typical level of affection for an embrace between strangers. It would probably be trying to gauge what gambit is being used by you, since it isn’t familiar/trustful of kindness from strangers. Suave and flippant on the surface, but mentally running around in circles trying to figure out what your angle is. Wilbur likes to pretend he’s always on top of things, but a combination of poor memory and lack of socialization mean he’s usually scrambling to figure out what’s happening lmao.

[hallowed-nebulae]

I am very curious about the worldbuilding you have around the Foretellers within Tempest-verse and silver drips from aching hands! What was the inspiration behind that? Any fun facts you can tell us about them?

i have calc hw and a forum for intro to film due so i may not be able to answer this the most thoroughly but i will do my best

okay so my initial thought for the foretellers were: "how can i make them people but Off". i don't remember the actual initial thought but like that's the vibes. they have only one body fluid that acts as blood, tears, etc etc. i figured, if we have creatures with only a heart (heartless, pureblood), a body and soul (greater nobodies/lesser nobodies) and a body and heart (corpses. a body without a soul is a corpse) i figured we should have something for a soul and a heart. thus we have the Foretellers technically being formless

uhhh lemme pull up my specbio real quick

they don't have organs! most organs at least. they've got a brain and such, but anything else isn't needed so their "bodies" don't have them. that said, if they can fit something in their mouth then they can eat it (since a Foreteller's body will just kinda absorb it until it's dust or such).

they're made of Only light and thus darkness sickens them and Nothingness outright kills them. the only way they can survive the nobody-ifying process is if they have a host they're latched onto (like luxu with braig's body).

in tempests verse (less sure of silver drips, been a hot sec), the master of masters made Foretellers in order to try and artificially create Reginae (a type of god who are born from dead beings that are reborn into their divinity). unfortunatelly you cannot make a reginae, it's up to Fate and Miracles (the two inherent forces within that reality), so MoM failed and that's why the Foretellers are kinda fucked up. too divine to be normal but not divine enough to be divine. their hearts feel all Off, and their keyblades feel that way too if you were to hold one. exceptions are if you're bequeathed a Foreteller's keyblade bc then it sorta fits into your heart's personal little resonance so that you're not discomforted by it.

(brain is an exception since, within tempests verse and silver drips, he's luxu's twin and thus their hearts' resonances are similar enough that No Name does not adjust. unfortunately this means brain does somewhat experience the Effects of holding a piece of a not-god in his heart, without that bit of filter to protect it. alas)

foretellers are INCREDIBLY possessive of what's theirs. they also tend to adopt. the unions were formed by the Foretellers just, adopting large droves of children who were yet-to-be-claimed. Foretellers also have a little heirarchy, so they'll fight Foretellers of an equal or lower standing in case of dispute over territory, but if a Foreteller of higher standing takes something then they won't do anything about it. i don't have this heirarchy worked out but it's within the larger divine heirarchy that exists, which will get elaborated on at some point

Foretellers are fun bc they're one of the first bits of alucinari i made, but now they tie in to a lot of my fun little interconnected multiverse of aus for various fandoms. so much lore on Miracles and gods and such is gonna be revealed in my crystal verse eventually (lore and rambles and stuff on my characters for that is located at @crystal-verse ; k'pheli himself is Miracles, aka the Shattered God, so there's lore there by necessity)

anyways this went off on a tangent but i hope it was at least entertaining to you! i don't know exactly how i got here but i am enjoying my worldbuilding. v fun.

(for those who know ffxiv: a Foreteller is more similar to a Lightwarden than an Ascian, but also more similar to a Reginae than a Lightwarden. Unlike Vauthry, a Foreteller could claim to be divine and be somewhat correct, rather than entirely uncorrect.)

[darrengrave]

Help I accidentally started rewriting a sequel trilogy to star wars in my head bc I hate disney

So Lucas actually wrote an outline for the sequels and what we know of it is a MUCH more natural progression of the story. Luke is attempting to rebuild a jedi order, while Leia is attempting to rebuild a republic, but neither are going to happen overnight. The galaxy has fallen into chaos and crime lords are vying for power in the vacuum as the republic organizes. Scattered empire influence remains to be squashed, and somewhere in those circles of crime syndicates lies a much darker influence - Maul. None of this is me - it's all Lucas. I wouldn't change a bit of it.

Leia and Han Solo have 3 children, as they did in the eu sequels - twins Jaina and Jacen Solo, and the youngest boy, Ben Solo. All 3 are studying under Luke, and they each possess unique skills. Jaina is a remarkable pilot and mechanic like her father, uncle, and grandfather, but she tends to prefer machines to people - they're simpler and easier to understand than the complicated emotions and drives of people - and can seem cold as a result, even though it aids her understanding of the force through humanizing droids and lower life forms. Jacen is strongly gifted in the force, but that talent makes him arrogant and easily bored and frustrated with training, like his grandfather, not aided by a brackish rogue spirit like his father. One thing everyone can agree on is both twins have their father's mouth. Ben is wise beyond his years and has a natural affinity for jedi teachings and politics, like his grandmother, mother, and uncle, but is stubborn and possesses his mother's righteous temper, and can sometimes even seem authoritarian when frustrated enough. None of them are very good at following rules and often wind up in wild adventures when they find reasons important enough to break them. Very much a 2 boys 1 girl trio to follow through the story (reflecting Luke, Leia, Han/Anakin, Padme, Obi wan/ what they half heartedly tried to do with Rey, Poe, and Finn)

Luke has studied ancient jedi texts ("the sacred texts!"), reviewed as much surviving documentation as he can of the jedi order of the old republic, and is slowly encountering more and more force sensitive children. But putting that all into practice, he is quickly realizing the pitfalls that led to the destruction of the jedi order and struggling to grapple with them. How do you a train a new generation without tearing them from their family? How can he forbid attachment when he himself holds so tightly onto family and friends? How can that be a path to the dark side when that's exactly how he stayed in the light and redeemed his father? He finds himself growing angry with Ben Kenobi and Yoda, who often visit during his regular meditations. He doubts his wisdom, fears he's accidentally leading his students down a darker path, and wonders if the jedi should remain extinct after all, and if their teachings should die with him.

Darth Maul is growing old, and knows his crime syndicate will crumble with infighting upon his death, and sith teachings while die with him as well if he doesn't find an apprentice to pass them down to. While he couldn't enact revenge against Kenobi for the loss of his legs directly, the perfect revenge against Kenobi's last surviving apprentice, and the last remaining jedi at that, would be to corrupt and steal an apprentice from his own lineage.

Sensing the trouble, Anakin has one last lesson to teach his son. They haven't spoken since his death. They haven't seen each other since the celebration following the Battle of Endor. Anakin is unlike the other masters who've learned to retain form in the Force. Luke senses this, but is much more interested in his insight into the failings of the Jedi order and how that led him to the Dark Side. Anakin sees many forces repeating themselves in similar ways, but the nature of the Force is cyclic. It's always trying to keep a balance. The only way to avoid the worst of history is to retain its balance. To retain balance in the Force, one must embrace all sides of it.

It's here Anakin demonstrates what sets him apart from the other Force Ghosts - he's a master of the Dark and Light sides, and while his intentions are wise and good, he is not afraid to use Vader to drive home a hard lesson. It's only through a fight Vader can reignite Luke's conviction, and with it the unwavering hope that redeemed his father. The jedi were wise but closedminded, and that blinded them to basic truths and let to tragedy. If this new jedi temple is to survive and avoid the mistakes of its predecessors, it must take lessons from both sides and embrace a balance, especially if Luke is save his niece and nephews from a fate like Anakin's.

Also Boba Fett survived and took over Jabba's territory, but has a vendetta against Han Solo and wants that man's head on a platter (or re-encased in carbonite). While Han's past as a smuggler provides needed insight for the republic into criminal circles, he's a particularly wanted man.

Leia's a tragically hands off mother by necessity with the state of the galaxy, though she loves her children fiercely. It's an easy decision to leave them in Luke's care, away from the worst of the conflict, and hopes to be able to bridge the gap when her responsibilities allow. In a brief quiet period of following the Battle of Endor, Luke began to train her first, realizing Force sensitivity is a large part of what makes her such a naturally fierce politician. Leia had to stop to take charge, though not before acquiring a few jedi skills, such as being able to attune to her senses purposely or employ a few mind tricks, that help her in the political and military arenas (perhaps even how to swing a light saber in a pinch - because let's face it, we've all wanted to see her wield a saber).

[kayberrie]

Lore dump for this new War Torn AU under the cut hehe

So the main premise of this au is that the Clone Wars never ended, which is why my working title of the War Torn AU, bc the galaxy is being torn by war. 

Basically the prequels play out exactly like the movie, right up until the end of Revenge of the Sith, along with some background action during Clone Wars.Two main things change: anakin’s arc, and Five’s quest. 

During the clone wars, instead of just running, Fives calls upon his ex-commander, Lady Tano. She can’t prevent his inevitable confrontation with Fox and Rex, but she can secretly prevent the bullet from lethally hitting him, effectively faking his death. Fives tells her about the control chips, and while she chooses not to directly involve herself, she does send him to Lux Bonterri, who decided to help work on a cure for the chip, or at least a way to loosen it’s hold (don’t come at me for the Lux thing, I just think that he should have more screen time and I haven’t watched CW in like two years. Ahsoka, disturbed by this information, goes to Bo Karan earlier than in the original timeline, and convinces her to allow Ahsoka to use Mandalorian resources for humanitarian efforts. I think that because she’s still struggling with her complicated relationship with war and fighting she’s originally be opposed to the idea of rejoining the war effort,. She would try to focus more on the peacekeeping role of the Jedi, even though she doesn’t think of herself as one. 

Timeskip to around Season 7: Fives catches word of the bullshit on Scako Minor, and realizes that Echo is alive. He wants to contact Echo, but realizes that he’s not in a spot to do it without risking his ally’s efforts (btw they’ve pretty much developed the cure by now). So he contacts Ahsoka, who’s about to speak with the Jed about Maul and Manalore. He asks her to take him along, so that he has a chance of speaking with and persuading Rex. She agrees, and he also gets her to talk it through with Anakin. After their discussion, Ahsoka realizes the identity of the Sith controlling the senate.

She goes and tells Obi wan, and together they confront Anakin and convince him to not do anything rash, effectively holding back his dark side turn for now.

Meanwhile Fives confronts Rex and Echo (he didn’t join the Bad Batch), they get told the truth, and Fives shows them the chip-cure that all clones need to be exposed to. They have a huge speech in front of the 501st, who are convinced (not easily).

They have to go back to the plot, though, and Anakin is wrestling with his feelings the whole time whist saving the Chancellor. When he doesn’t kill Dooku it raises suspicion from Palpatine, but he doesn’t act on it for his master plan is almost complete. Ahsoka’s story is mostly the same, save for the speed of it. With the entirety of the 501st fighting with their whole hearts, Ahsoka, Rex, Fives, Echo, and Bo apprehend Maul, although Jesse is left in rough shape. Lux and his ‘rebel’ organization meet them on Mandalore and equip all of the 501st with th cure. They then take off and try to spread it as quickly as possible to the rest of the clone army.

Anakin, brash as ever, decides to confront Palpatine in lieu of the Jedi Masters, while Obi wan lets them know about the chips and the Sith. Palpatine plays with Anakin, but once he realizes that he’s been pushed towards the light, he becomes angry, and basically kidnaps Anakin. After that he enacts Order 66. Unfortunately for him the 501st managed to cure a good chunk of the Army thanks to Plot Holes. About of a 1/4 of all Jedi do die, though.

The Senate realizes that the war was not what they thought after the Jedi reveal most of the truth. Bail is elected to Chancellor, and Padme worries about her husband who’s currently being held by Darth Sidious. The facade of the ‘separatists’ falls away and is revealed to the Empire, looking to take over the galaxy. In response the Republic begins using civilian soldiers, the Jedi fighting to retain control over the Clone Army (for fear of generals like Pong Krell taking over) but resolving to fix the issues and darkness within their temple first.

After this I’m not sure exactly what happens, but I do know a few things

Anakin has to struggle with his darkness and the manipulation/torture Palpatine puts him through while being captured.

Ahsoka rejoins the Jedi and leads the Reformation movement, fighting to alter their code into one that better represents the core values of the Jedi

She also accepts the title of General, leading the 501st in Anakin’s absence, and becoming a renowned leader/fighter/peacekeeper

Obi wan is promoted to Grand Master and has to struggle with the influence of power and how he wasn’t able to recognize the influence of the Sith

The clones grapple with the implications of their chips and their place in a world with dwindling need for them

Padme must raise her children and fight for the rights of all Republic soldiers.

Anakin turns into a Winter Soldier-esque weapon for the Empire??

Skywalker twin bullshit

This is all subject to change and shamelessly fan service (it’s me, I’m the fan), so I’ll stop yapping now and start hyperfixating about this AU

Design sheet for my new Star Wars AU :)

I’ll rb with the details, but can we just appreciate my girl for a sec?

[l1ve-l4ugh-lov3craft]

Here, Sora and Riku split up again cuz they’ve got stuff to do. Sora’s gotta go learn the “power of waking” so he can sort out his heart situation (he’s got several other people’s hearts inside of his, similar to how Kairi’s was in his in the first game. Two of them are Roxas and Xion) and Riku’s gotta look for a lady named Aqua. She’s stuck wandering around in the Realm of Darkness, and she’s a keyblade master so they need her for the big battle that Organization 13 is prepping for. Sora adventures through more Disney worlds, Riku finds Aqua but she’s been wandering around in the darkness for long enough that now she’s dark and attacks him and Mickey. Sora follows his heart and manages to make his way to Riku just in time to block one of Aqua’s attacks. They then work together to fight her enough to return her to her senses, and they all return to the Realm of Light. Sora sorts out the heart situation, partially anyway, and they head off to have their big showdown with Organization 13. At this point, they have seven Guardians of Light and 13 Organization 13 peeps, which is important bc that’s the ration that Xeahnort guy needs in order to make this big special keyblade that’ll summon Kingdom Hearts. So they all head to this place called the Keyblade Graveyard, and are met by one of the Org guys. He absolutely demolishes the lights, like, everyone dies. Straight up. Sora wakes up as a ghost in this place called the Final World, its actually rather pretty. He pieces himself together and then misuses the power of waking to bring all his friends back and technically time travel a little bit. None of the others remember their deaths, so they go on just like before, but this time they don’t die and then Xeahnort summons a maze so now little groups are fighting all over the place. Sora goes and helps each little group and eventually makes his way to Xeahnort himself. He, Riku, and Mickey fight him, but he manages to make the special keyblade anyways and summons Kingdom Hearts. They figure out a way to beat him, but only Sora, Donald and Goofy can go do it cuz the others have to keep Kingdom Hearts in check. They do that, beat him, the end. Except earlier, Xeahnort did kill Kairi, so Sora’s gotta go fix that by abusing the power of waking again. He’s warned this time, that there’ll be dire consequences, but he doesn’t care, he just wants to help his friends. So he saves her, but eventually he fades from reality. That’s about it for KH3, we know he’s been missing for at least a year and his friends are still looking for him. There’s some other stuff, like technically he’s in a place called Quadratum, and he may be missing his powers or something, but its kinda unclear and I’m trying to be brief, so that’s where I’m gonna leave this.

DUDE

noooo kairi DX that's so sad QwQ

holy shit this is SO much more lore than i ever anticipated what the hell??? NOT at all complaining though???

you go with your hardcore angst lore, you funky little androgynous big shoe fella🤘

[salamiimommy]

Im_Sorry_Buddy’s description for as many of the designs in FTFO as I can find rn bc I need to keep them all together in one place for reference so I might as well share it for anyone else

Any edits I make to the original text will be shown in [these] yes I have been updating it, last combed around chapter 5 while also updating with the latest chapters. Buddy has confirmed this post is accurate !!

[MAJOR DESIGN SPOILERS MENTIONED. marked with **. it’s organized by character with their first outfit on top and changes after in order to how they appear. pls be careful looking through if you’re new.]

[Ink is first and he has. a Lot of outfits so there’s a HUGE chunk of text to scroll past to get to everyone else LOL. Broomie is second]

First, some heights. The tallest Gang member is Horror (4ft 10 inches), then Nightmare (4ft 9in, though his tentacles make him seem larger than Horror), then Cross, Killer, and Dust (4ft 7in), then Ink is the shortest (at about 3ft 8.5 inches). Of the Sanses, only Outertale Sans is shorter than Ink (at 3 ft 5inches).

Error is a couple inches shorter than Cross, Dust, and Killer at 4ft 04in (because Error 404 joke). Dream is approximately 4ft 3in (my headcanon is he’d get taller than that if the Multiverse wasn’t so negative. Plus Nightmare has 500 years on him). Blue is 4ft 7in. Red is 4ft 6.5 inches just to make him mad that Blue is a little taller than him. Core Frisk… is 4ft. (Yes, they are actually taller than Ink. Yes, I did a double take when I realized that. The fandom has lied to me.)

[The Papyri] average around 6.8 to 7.2 ft. Edge looks even taller than he actually is because of the heels on his boots. I will say that Toriels are taller than the Papyri at maybe about 7.5 to 8ft. Other than that, I don't have exact numbers in mind, heh.

[the website I used made the Sanses all child models bc they’re so short wHEEEEEEEZE also like it states the Paps n Tori heights are the averages, different AUs are different heights. also also the rectangle in the back is Broomie's height]

Ink:

Ink sleeps in pajamas that are a lighter shade of brown. It’s a standard long sleeve button up pajama shirt and pants.

Ink's soul has the appearance like broken pottery. There are visible gouges where he dug his fingers into his soul.

Ink has had a couple different outfits. His former "hanging around the Castle" outfit was a too big brown long sleeve and loose brown pants (that did resemble the pants the Comyet Ink used to wear except they were completely brown and went all the way down to his feet). Those clothes were destroyed when Error grabbed him in chapter 6 (where Ink spent chapter 7 wearing Killer's too-big coat) so [then] Ink [was] borrowing one of Cross's black long sleeves and another pair of brown pants (these have more of the "pleated" design of Comyet Ink's new pants and also go down to his feet) .

[CH 12 HT!Toriel visit] “He was happy to choose a cyan hoodie and dark blue joggers. Well, he was happy except when it came to choosing the shoes.”

[CH 26 Ccino visit] “His black turtleneck, pants, and green vest” [from his Arc outfit.]

[CH 27 onwards was a black long sleeve shirt, pleated brown pants, and his scarf with the hood.]

[CH 32] “[…] wear his brown scarf and hood, along with his loose brown pants. […] Aster had apparently brought along a black tank top for him. The tank top fit well enough and the collar was high enough that it lay under the collar of his scarf but it obviously did not cover his arms, […]Doctor Toriel stepped out before returning with a pair of long fingerless brown gloves.”

[CH 44] “[…] a light green long sleeve, his hooded scarf, and a pair of dark brown pants from the drawer right beside him.”

[CH 45] “[…] his hooded scarf, a comfortable black long sleeve, his light green [cargo] pants, and a brown satchel with a long strap. He hung the satchel cross-body over his shoulder”

[CH 46 around the castle] “[…] a pair of rather short brown shorts, leaving […] much of his femur uncovered”

[CH 46 Ccino visit] “[…] a turtleneck that matched the light green interior of his hooded scarf and brown pants”

[CH 46 Sciencetale visit] “[…] his comfortable black long sleeve and the detachable light green pants-to-shorts he preferred.”

[SHIELD OUTFIT] A long purple cloak with a hood that, when up, almost covers his face (meaning his eye lights can glow from beneath the shadow of the hood). It's more off of his face when he's curious and excited, but falls further over his face when he's scared or uncomfortable. The purple cloak has a silver clasp in the shape of the Delta Rune. Underneath the cloak he wears a silver tunic, black belt, and purple leggings. His boots are black and go up just to his “calves”. When Ink is Shield, he covers the ink splotch on his face with white paint.

[Ch 26 he added]”[…H]is scarf (minus the hood, which was tucked into his satchel) around his neck. Its ends were folded in so they did not hang out of the bottom of his brown coat.”

[ARC OUTFIT:] Whenever Ink needs to publicly work for Nightmare, he wears an outfit with a bit of a steampunk aesthetic (as “encouraged” by Nightmare so that when people look at Ink, they don’t think “medic” or “healer”). Nightmare wants Ink to keep his identity (and the fact that he’s the Gang's medic) a secret so he wears a mask outside of the castle. The mask appears to be made from brass and copper metal that’s been painted black (with the exception of a few accents). It covers his face while his hood covers the rest of his skull.

The mask is fashioned after a mix of a gas mask for the bottom half and steampunk “brass goggles” for the top half. It is all one piece and the way the “metal” is crafted makes it looks like an owl’s feathery face. Ink’s eye lights are not visible through the goggles and the dark lenses (plus the shadow of the hood) makes it seem like he is constantly giving what I call the “Sans's empty socket glare”. The bottom half of the mask has two “valves” for exhalation and inhalation that are actually functional (cleansing the air he breathes), but are flatter and are symmetrical, unlike real world versions tend to be. There is a bit of metal between the valves that looks like an owl’s beak. The bottom is mostly black with some brass accents for the bottom half. He can easily remove the mask to reveal his face and replace it in a moment’s notice.

Ink wears a brown steampunk overcoat with a hood. Seven black buttons go up his chest (to the left side of his sternum) to close it. Under the last button, the fabric opens up in an upside down “v” shape, preventing the coat from covering the fronts of his legs. The hem of the “tail” of the coat falls just below the backs of his knees. The collar of the coat covers part of his neck. Around his left forearm is what looks like two black snake designs wrapped around his arm (like the snakes wrapped around the Staff of Asclepius).

Under the coat he wears a dark green vest (It was the only big bit of green that Nightmare allowed because he really doesn’t want Ink to even be associated with green magic.) Under that vest he wears a black turtleneck undershirt that nearly goes up to his chin. His pants are black, and tuck into brown boots. (Ink ditches the boots whenever he can).

Over the coat, Ink wears a thick black belt that has many pockets on it. Every pocket has a unique symbol and every one is filled with medical supplies like bandages, healing food, several antidotes, etc. Attached to his right thigh is a small satchel with more medical supplies. In the small side pocket of the satchel (this one is to the front so its easiest to reach), is [REDACTED]. On his left thigh he wears what looks like a long brown holster that goes down to his knee. Seven pockets go down it in a line. Inside are… you guessed it: more medical supplies.

Ink wears black gloves that leaves just the tips of his fingers exposed. The back of the right glove gets what looks like a bronze analog clock sewn into it. The tops of his fingers are exposed so he can more easily use his magic to heal others and [fix codes]. They’re reinforced so he can grab a blade without it cutting right into him.

[Ink now wears the scarf as well, minus the hood, with the ends folded so they do not hang out of the bottom of the coat as of Ch 27.]

[SCARF in CH 26] “The hood was attached by a few buttons that were the same shade as the rest of the fabric, letting them blend into the scarf and make it appear to be one solid piece. The outside of the hood was brown. Its interior was a light green, like the color on the pinkies and sides of Prism's gloves. It was also the color that Ink's eye lights often turned when he used green magic.

The brown scarf's tails were long enough that the ends still hung down by the bottoms of Ink’s calves after he wrapped it around his neck. The hood hung loosely around his head but stayed up even when he moved around. The green interior of the hood was clearly visible, contrasting the exterior nicely. The "collar" was loose around his neck but thick enough to easily cover the new marks that had been scrawled onto his bones.

If Ink wanted to, he could detach the hood and tuck in the ends to wear the scarf under his Shield cloak. He could even wear it hoodless with his Arc outfit if he wished.”

[INKS FINAL OUTFIT in CH 47] Ink's new brown coat was shorter than his old Arc one, with the straight hem stopping at just below his pelvis.

There were only four black buttons holding it closed instead of the previous coat's seven, though Ink found that he also liked how it looked when he left it open.

Even when fully buttoned, the coat opened up just below his collar bone, leaving a standing collar up top instead of an attached hood and revealing a bit of the light green turtleneck that safely covered the tattoo-like marks on his neck and sternum.

[…] an upright light green heart was embroidered on the shoulders of the coat, subtly indicating his profession as a Healer. Just beneath those hearts, cut-outs ran from his shoulder to above his elbows and revealed a matching green interior.

He traded his old black gloves for longer black ones with stitching designs that matched the light green of the interior of his scarf, his shirt, and the medical hearts, leaving the tips of his fingers and thumbs exposed and the black double-clock on the back of the hand. His wide, pocket-filled black belt also remained, as did the brown holster of pockets down his left thigh. His brown satchel was moved to his right hip, now hanging crossbody instead of being attached to his right thigh.

The black pants he designed had zippers hidden under small bits of overlapping fabric up around his femurs, which gave him quicker access to the area if needed. He could technically turn the pants into a pair of shorts with two unzips but Ink was hesitant. He was too uncomfortable with the idea of showing the binary code marks on his bones to consider something shorter like Prism's overalls, even with the thigh-high brown sock providing an extra layer of coverage on his left leg. Like Prism and many other Inks, he chose a design that left his heel and toes bare. Unlike Prism and many other Inks, the tight-like sock had a swirling green design down its outside.

Other than the pant leg, his prosthetic was bare, allowing a bit of the design to be seen due to his abhorrence for shoes. Maybe it was due to the presence of the colors (instead of white) but Ink was much more receptive to showing the prosthetic off than any of the marks on his bones.

Ink's Arc mask was attached to his belt and hung near his satchel, out of the way but within reach just in case.

His hooded scarf completed the outfit, with Cyan and Gold once again taking up residence at the ends of the tails. Broomie floated at his back, with the tip of their handle pointing out beyond his right shoulder while their black brush flicked close to his left ankle.

[**CH 41 Ink’s right leg has been cleanly amputated] “above his knee, halfway up his femur.”

[**PROSTHETIC in CH 46] The prosthetic resembled a skeleton monster's right leg with several notable differences. The socket was a bit wider than the bone to fit his stump and provide support. The pylon beneath the knee resembled leg armor more than a skeleton monster's individual tibia and fibula. The basic shape and outline were a similar thickness to his bone leg though.

The mechanical foot part was currently covered by the shell that went over it. Based on the images that Doctor Toriel had shown Ink, there were distinctive joint areas for the ankle, knee, and toe beneath the casing. […] the toe was one unit meant for balancing, support, and propulsion.

The base of the prosthetic was colored a medium shade of gray […] while the design on the casing was one of the simpler ones.

The prosthetic covers were the same style for the entire leg and foot. They had the appearance like jagged light green lightning or filled cracks in repaired pottery, which stood out sharply and boldly on the metallic black background. The moment Ink had seen what was labeled as a "kintsugi-inspired" design, he knew that was the one. The green not only matched his eye lights, his magic, and the interior of his scarf, but the 'filled-in' look of the pattern reminded him of his soul.

Broomie:

Cross:

Cross [used to wear] his old Royal Guard uniform from Xtale. He has his scar, and his eye lights are usually both white. They do not turn red no matter how angry or emotional he becomes. His bone and knife attacks are tinted purple.

[CH 14] “His jacket was different. It was just a couple alterations. A black X-like design on the shoulders of both white sleeves. The large white X-sash was now black. Along the bottom hem of the white jacket were simple black cross-stitches. It was little things but the decals broke up the white in his outfit.”

[CH 45 pjs:] “Cross had grabbed a plain black tank top and loose black sweatpants.”

[CH 46 Ccino visit] “[…] he changed into a black hoodie and pants instead of wearing his more recognizable outfit.”

[GUARD OUTFIT] […] a set of silver Royal Guard armor and a purple cloak. A large Delta Rune is emblazoned on the chestplate in black. The armor also comes with a silver helmet but he did not wear it on the [first] Aftertale mission. When he is acting as Guard, he either covers his scar with white or wears the helmet to hide his face.

[**CH 37] “[…] vertical cracks split the bones by his eye sockets, resembling the scars of his creator. His eye lights burned a volatile purple, their form shivering like they were struggling not to change shape. [CH 38] […] glowing purple cracks on his skull looked like a Gaster’s scars.”

[**CH 42 has healed the scars completely]

Dust:

Dust wears the standard Sans outfit but it looks like its a paler color in places because of all the monster dust. His shoes are gray for that reason. Dust always has his gray hood up unless it’s knocked off his skull. Unlike Killer and Horror (and Cross), his hood does not have fur. He wears his Papyrus’s tattered scarf. His eye lights have a blue center and a red ring around the outside. They can occasionally turn white if he’s feeling peaceful. His bone attacks are indigo, leaning more towards blue than purple.

Dust sometimes sleeps in a light blue t-shirt and dark gray pajama pants with a drawstring. Other times he forgets to change and plops into bed in his usual t-shirt and shorts.

[CH 46 Sciencetale visit] “[…] he pulled at the hood of the hoodie he was wearing. He had seemed to like the dark indigo color[…] Dust's scarf was tucked into the hoodie, leaving only a small bit of the collar visible. A pair of sunglasses covered his distinctive eye lights. Black sweatpants and sneakers completed the outfit.”

Dust Papyrus:

To Ink, Dust Papyrus looks like the barest outline of a ghostly shape of the head, scarf, and hands of a Papyrus. He’s extremely faint and blurry, with binary codes making up his outline.

[**CH 46] “[…] ghostly gloves gained a red color and an equally ghostly skull took form. Finally, [Ink] could clearly see Phantom Papyrus.”

Killer:

Killer also wears the standard Sans outfit except his undershirt is a black turtleneck and his hood has fur on the rim. His soul is usually visible in the form of a red target. When he goes Stage Three, it blurs and thick black liquid pours from his eye sockets and mouth. He never has eye lights. His knife attacks are red while his bone attacks are tinted gray. [Liquid Determination leaks constantly from his eyes.]

He tries not to sleep so he does not change into pajamas.

[CH 4 comment] Killer's Stages are inspired by something he has in Something New/"Killertale". Long story short: "Stage One": Killer is pretty much Sans. This Stage does not happen anymore. "Stage Two": Default Killer. "Stage Three": Killer is out of control and will attack anything. "Stage Four and Higher": run.

[**CH 26, Killer can now renter Stage 1, though he has not done it in yet. Liquid Determination is also not constantly leaking from his eyes. CH 27:] The black marks beneath his eye sockets were thin enough that they could be mistaken for drawn lines.

[**CH 44 showed that the liquid Determination is still affected by his emotions:] “Killer glowered at him. The black lines beneath his eye sockets thickened a little.”

Horror:

Horror has the usual Sans-style outfit. His has fur lining the hood. Horror’s jacket is a bit tattered and shows signs of being torn and sewn back together in a couple places. His left eye is not his own one, he took it from a dead guard in his AU. It’s is a glowing red iris and can go out like most skeleton eye lights. His bone attacks are tinted a faint red. [Horror has two eye lights regularly, just one of them is. big and red.]

Horror has pajama shorts and a t-shirt but he often forgets to change into them. (He’s trying to teach Ink to be better than him at it). [CH 45] “Horror was in a gray t-shirt and black shorts.”

[CH 36] “…those unsettling, mismatched eye lights.” [CH 40] “His right eye light returned with his health (and his hope)” [proof for two eye lights]

Nightmare:

Nightmare doesn’t change clothes. He is his goopy octopus self. When he is particularly angry or in a “mood”, his aura is much darker, like he’s surrounded by shadows.

[**CH 28] “His form rippled, and suddenly he did not appear to be made of black sludge. Instead it was like he was glitching darkness, his form flickering and rippling at its edges as his eye light thinned to a slit and and his fingers sharpened to claw-like points. Ink caught a glimpse of his teeth and was horrified to see they were unnaturally pointed[.]” [His eye also glows a toxic cyan and he smiles with too many teeth. And his tentacles are unmoving most of the time.]

[**CH 37] “Corrupted's grin grew wider, revealing that his jaw had indeed become unhinged like it was broken.”

[**CH 40] “The shadows that held Ink barely resembled Nightmare anymore. He had merged with the darkness, leaving only a toxic eye light visible as his presence expanded […] smoke-like tentacles […] his sharp-toothed smile, which was far too big to fit on Nightmare's face without breaking it apart, oozed with black sludge.”

[**CH 40 returns him to his regular goop form.]

Dream:

Dream has his “current outfit” (the one with the yellow jacket-tunic thing). In the present he always looks tired and has shadows under his sockets.

[**CH 37] “Actual fire rippled in its wake, burning a violent gold. Four wings tore themselves free of Dream’s back, twisting and writhing like each individual feather was made of golden flames and his facial structure was lost in shuddering fire. His eye sockets filled with fire, burning away his eye lights.

[…] Although Dream’s mouth stayed visible through the flames, his teeth sharpened and his fiery grin grew so wide it froze on his face, unable to falter. The fire was such a thick covering over the remainder of his skull that an initial glance made it seem like that smile was all that was left of his face.

His clothes did not burn but they too became flames, curling and lashing in the air like they were mere moments from bursting out into a firestorm and consuming everything in sight, Dream included. Only his circlet remained solid, incandescent upon his fiery head like a halo that matched the glowing intensity of his wings. It was as though the sun itself had taken the form of a dreadful Angel.”

[**CH 39 returns him to his regular intact outfit.]

[**CH 43 sees a peek of] “…a bit of his collarbone that was blackened like it had been burned by flames,” [we don’t know the extent of the burns]

[**CH 45] “The burn scars were actually one big scar centered on his sternum, right where his soul rested. The bones of his sternum, clavicles, and frontal ribs were blackened like charred wood with a thick, circular shape in the middle. Tendrils spread out like wisps of flame, giving the scar an appearance like a black, stylized sun.”

Blue:

Blue is more “Swap” than “Blueberry”. His kerchief is a darker blue color, and he wears a black-gray Royal Guard-inspired “battle body”, blue gloves, and blue boots. His eye lights are also blue. They become blue stars if he is happy and plain white if he’s terrified. His bone attacks are tinted blue.

[**CH 38] […] the slash through the heart sealed, leaving a deep scar much like the one [Ink] himself had gotten from Horrortale Undyne's spear.

Error:

[CH 2] “[…H]is tear marks stained red-purple by the blood that ran from his sockets.”

[Ch 7] “[…] a bit of a black skull and a single haunting red eye socket was visible. A distorted, yellow-ringed blue eye light stared down at them, observing them in silence, before it shrank to a deranged pinprick.

Black, dust-covered skeletal fingers grasped the edge of the portal, not reacting as the edge cut into his hand and what looked like glitching blood dripped down his phalanges.

His black jacket was torn, with the blue ends of its sleeves splattered with monster dust and specks of brownish-red dried blood. His pants were even more discolored, more gray than black and so stained by what must be blood that they clung to the red bones of his legs. One of his shoes was gone, and the strip of fabric around his neck (which might have been a scarf once) was so tattered it resembled a bloody blue bandage more than anything else. Even with his blue-lined hood pulled up over his skull and covering his face in shadow, he was easy to identify.”

[CH 20] “Error's skull stopped melting but the damage was done. Almost half of his head was gone, leaving only his eye light and a bit of his jaw untouched on that side.”

[CH 22] “[…H]is eye lights, which glowed so brightly they almost looked poisonous.”

[CH 48] “He had also fixed and washed his clothes. […] his scarf was no longer torn.”

[**CH 22] “Most of his mandible and zygomatic arch had been repaired. The hole in his skull wasn't anywhere close to being closed but although the tangle of codes in his skull were still horribly warped, more of the bits that were Error's own were visible.”

[**CH 37] “[…] a jagged scar that went from the top of Error’s repaired eye socket, up his forehead and over the top of his skull, and back around to the front through his jaw, where it curled back up and ended at the bottom of his eye socket. It marked exactly where the damage had once been.”

Geno:

[CH 29] “Geno mostly resembled the average Sans, except for the red scarf, melting eye socket, minor glitches, and the large gash across his chest. […] A line of red dripped from Geno’s mouth.” [The glitches around Geno’s eye can come and go, either on command or due to his emotions (negative emotions adding more glitches).]

[**CH 35] “Geno's chest wound seemed a bit less severe and there wasn't a trickle of blood coming from his mouth anymore.”

[**CH 36] “[…] heal the slash across his chest. His eye socket remained melted”

Fresh:

Prism:

[CH 12] “The other Ink still wore mostly brown, but the outfit was much more elaborate than the simple brown pajamas Ink currently wore. The biggest things Ink noticed were the sash of colored vials across the other's chest and the giant paintbrush at their back. And the reflection had a lovely brown scarf.” [He writes on his scarf like og!Ink]

Solus:

[CH 21] “This Ink's outfit was similar to Prism's but with one distinct difference. Part of the "collar" and ends of his scarf were the deep blue of an integrity soul. The other Ink's sleeves and pants were also torn, revealing most of his arms and sections of his legs.

Black marks were visible all over his bones, with a few peeking up just above his scarf. They weren't simple binary codes like Ink's own marks, he realized. They were scars. Physical scars that someone had painstakingly carved into the other Ink's bones […] curling up his jaw and chin.”

[CH 24] “His brown sleeves were mostly gone, showing most of his arms, while his pleated brown pants were torn enough to reveal bits of his tibias, fibulas, and femurs. His ripped pant legs were uneven, their bottoms stained with a black liquid that could be ink or his own blood. The brown leggings Ink wore under his pants were absent from Solus, leaving the bottom parts of his legs and his feet completely bare.

[…] One of his eye lights often shifted color and shape whenever he blinked, sticking mostly to pastels or a stoic, guarded gray. The other was always the deep blue of an integrity soul no matter what emotions he felt or what shape they became.”

Other canon content for handy reference:

Cross is afraid of cows

Spaghetti is (probably) Ink’s favourite food

Ink scratched himself to the point of bleeding while stuck in his AU

[CH 24] ‘Solus’ did not speak much, instead preferring to use sign language and gestures. When his hands weren’t moving in small, careful motions, they held onto the blue edges of his stained and torn brown scarf or clung to his equally battered and scarred version of Broomie.

[CH 40 Broomie’s magic is…] black for portal creation, which would be useful if Ink's own magic was blocked off again. Brown for shielding simply because Ink liked brown, yes? Purple for enhanced durability to allies. Cyan for non-harmful entanglements. Blue for damage to moving targets. Green for Broomie's own regeneration capabilities only, unfortunately. Yellow for precise distance shots. Orange for damage to targets that were still. Red for purely corrosive splatters that could melt through flesh and bone- and Corruption. [Ink only has black and green magic.]

Broomie is referred to with they/them pronouns

Paprika loves dino egg oatmeal, like UT!Papyrus

Only Ink, Broomie, and Dust can see Phantom Paps. Only Dust can hear him.

If you have any links to other comments Buddy has made about any designs, or other quotes from the text, pls link them so I can add them ty !!!

[reloha]

@neoputo: #omg i never thought abt it like that#they really are a jock and a nerd#but also its funny how the first impression is crowley as the jock and aziraphale as the nerd#i mean i think both are both and thats the fun of it#theres white in the black and black in the white and they really do compliment each other#i really love their dynamic#the whole shades of grey thing i love it

There’s white in the black and black in the white.

This is essentially the yin and the yang. The small circles in each half represent this, the elements of one inside the other.

(Note: I'm just using some of the Wikipedia article for this, but obviously one would go to other sources for deep research. Wikipedia is more of a source for finding sources, really.)

Yin and yang (/jɪn/ and /jæŋ/), yinyang,[1][2] or yin-yang[3][2] is a Chinese philosophical concept that describes opposite but interconnected forces. In Chinese cosmology, the universe creates itself out of a primary chaos of material energy, organized into the cycles of yin and yang and formed into objects and lives. Yin is the receptive and yang the active principle, seen in all forms of change and difference such as the annual cycle (winter and summer), the landscape (north-facing shade and south-facing brightness), sex (female and male), the formation of both men and women as characters, and sociopolitical history (disorder and order).[4]

Taiji or tai chi (simplified Chinese: 太极; traditional Chinese: 太極; pinyin: tàijí; lit. 'great pole') is a Chinese cosmological term for the "Supreme Ultimate" state of undifferentiated absolute and infinite potential, the oneness before duality, from which yin and yang originate. It can be compared with the old wuji (無極, "without pole"). In the cosmology pertaining to yin and yang, the material energy which this universe was created from is known as qi. It is believed that the organization of qi in this cosmology of yin and yang has formed many things.[5] Included among these forms are humans. Many natural dualities (such as light and dark, fire and water, expanding and contracting) are thought of as physical manifestations of the duality symbolized by yin and yang. This duality lies at the origins of many branches of classical Chinese science and philosophy, as well as being a primary guideline of traditional Chinese medicine,[6] and a central principle of different forms of Chinese martial arts and exercise, such as baguazhang, taijiquan (tʻai chi chʻüan) and qigong (chʻi kung), as well as appearing in the pages of the I Ching.

The notion of duality can be found in many areas, such as Communities of Practice. The term "dualistic-monism" or dialectical monism has been coined in an attempt to express this fruitful paradox of simultaneous unity and duality. Yin and yang can be thought of as complementary (rather than opposing) forces that interact to form a dynamic system in which the whole is greater than the assembled parts.[7] According to this philosophy, everything has both yin and yang aspects (for instance, shadow cannot exist without light). Either of the two major aspects may manifest more strongly in a particular object, depending on the criterion of the observation. The yin and yang symbol (or taijitu) shows a balance between two opposites with a portion of the opposite element in each section.[citation needed]

In Taoist metaphysics, distinctions between good and bad, along with other dichotomous moral judgments, are perceptual, not real; so, the duality of yin and yang is an indivisible whole. In the ethics of Confucianism on the other hand, most notably in the philosophy of Dong Zhongshu (c. 2nd century BC), a moral dimension is attached to the idea of yin and yang.[8]

Yin and Yang on Wikipedia

"You don't just see things in black and white. Sometimes, you've just gotta blur the edges."

[inklores]

miguel o'hara── a study in security

it's really funny how most of my finals this quarter have me reading so many pieces that relate with the fics i'm writing and the characters i have brainrot over. i'm reading chapter 6 of eva illouz's book, "why love hurts," and the section about how love and security can't always co-exist hit me... because that is exactly how miguel o'hara regulates his life and shapes his influence within the spider-society.

"Security is often seen as incompatible with passion, or even as leading to its demise. But I would argue that this need for “security” and/or for “adventure” is not an invariant constituent of the psyche; or if it is, then security and adventure take on changing shapes in different cultural structures. They are also outcomes of the social organization of the psyche. Security derives from the capacity to control and to predict one’s environment; adventure, by contrast, derives from feeling challenged, either in one’s social identity or in the ways in which one knows how to do things." (Illouz, 219).

rewatching atsv and i notice just how locked and authoritative miguel runs his facility. micromanaged down to the knick-knacks hobie swipes. the differences in lighting and color theory with how miles & the gang associate with different spider-people, being lit in white and warm shades... then we meet miguel and he is in pitch dark with reddish and deep blue undertones. his character design is similar to the spot, where the sketch design is still visible amidst the rendering and coloring. this color palette carries with him and it sucks all his interactions in with it. from berating gwen after miles escapes to watching archival footage of his daughter, it's so deeply rooted that breaking out of that sphere will quite literally destroy what little he already has left and what he managed to preserve.

the man is STRESSED. we see that from his design to his dialogue. he believes he is single-handedly keeping the multiverse together and he expresses it multiple times. he thinks he can't have comfort and duty at the same time, believing that is what it means to be spider-man. it takes away his humor too, pointed out by peter b. when he says all spider-men are supposed to be funny. the only time he really shows any sort of wit is when he interacts with lyla and maybe jess, but even then, it's so dry and sarcastic. (save his interaction with baby mayday bc that man is also a father.)

but he's "okay" with this great responsibility. this is his security because it's what he's able to control when once, he wasn't able to control anything and it left him so badly wounded that it isolated any possibility of change or evolution for the order of things. when miles left, he shouted, "ALL HE HAD TO DO WAS LISTEN!" and then a softer, almost baffled and frustrated, "why didn't he listen...?"

illouz talks about how visual stimulations or even the presence of something we can hear or see can shape or crush the way we look at ourselves.

Research on the impact of media images on how individuals perceive their bodies suggests that images of perfect bodies have negative effects on self-esteem and self-concept because watching these images suggests to people both that others can achieve them more easily (competitiveness) and that others view them as important (normative legitimacy). Media images thus become a source of disappointment through the implicit mediation of what we think they say about others’ expectations of us and about their achievements compared to ours. Widespread images of love may instill ideas that others achieve love when we do not, and that achieving love is normatively important for successful life. (Illouz, 220).

hobie mentioned it before we officially meet miguel. he says miles seemingly has it alright with his parents and stable family life. and someone like miguel, who keeps a watchful eye over everything that goes on with spidermen, knows that. and he's jealous of it, i would argue. he believes as spider-man, there is a required sacrifice or weight of loss to carry.

while it is a very recurring trope with every iteration of spider-man that's been watched or read, miles has felt loss and loneliness. but he hasn't felt it in the way miguel has because what miguel went through is so singular and unique to him. the only ones who may understand what that would feel like would be gwen or even pav, seeing their dimension and/or livelihood beginning to crumble.

but miles has everything... and is also spider-man and i just know that burns miguel. it's not what he believes should be the order of the "spider-man journey," even though happiness and responsibility can and has worked together. example, peter b. and his daughter.

it's inconceivable for miguel to think something or someone can deny him or run the other way. because everyone is primed to understand that it's his way or quite literally, the destruction of everything. nobody can suggest another way. nobody can say no. aside from the doomsday vibes, miguel is also objectively scary when he’s genuinely angry. not even irritated or annoyed. irate. he’s also colossal. he’s mr. property damage. this need for control and this ability to maintain it under his thumb fuels his antagonistic relationship with anomalies or things he sees as a threat to his security. he doesn't like to be challenged, he likes to be listened to because he knows how the multiverse works and what can come out of it if even a single spider-person has a foot out of line.

and with all the hints left over at the end of the film of how miguel may be wrong, that there is a way to fix the multiverse while protecting the people they love, there will be some serious fractures to his security and everything will open up once again.

[corvusunnx]

uhhh ig ill post my little fanfic and see how it goes

im obssessed with rain so i need to write about him. im already on the third chapter but i dont want to post everything all at once 😭

uh,, edited this bc i COMPLETELY FORGOT TO ALSO POST THE FIC HERE (under the cut)

Y/N's POV

i've been a sibling of sin as long as i can remember. copia took me in when i was young, raising me alongside other siblings. they've all helped me grow as a person, some more than others, but they all care about me, and i care about them just as much. one in particular, sister carie, has been nothing short of a mother for me. she's always been there for me and was always there to teach me what was best, and went easier on me than i've ever been towards myself.

"y/n! are you almost ready?" her voice passes through the cracks between the door and wall, a gentle knock rattling the door ever so slightly.

"almost! I promise I'll be out in a second!" i rush to change into my uniform, an elegant black and white outfit which resembles that of a nun. today's the day a new ghoul is summoned, and dew will finally become a fire ghoul. my heart pounds with excitement. once i rush out to the hall im greeted by the ever so kind and smiling face of carie. i look around, seeing brothers and sisters alike, walking through the halls, chatting about what they think the new ghoul will be like. the new water ghoul.

"I bet he'll be just like dew, charming and talented!"

"I wouldn't mind a tall water ghoul for once"

"do you think he'll be friendly?"

all sorts of guesses and questions fill the usually silent halls, echoing from the floors to the giant stained glass windows. the colors and pictures in the thick glass sparkle in a way that almost seems magical. i can never seem to get tired of them. carie takes my hand and leads me to a room that i've never been to before. it's dark once the two of us enter, not a window nor light hanging from the ceiling. the dim lighting from a few candles is all i see, carving out copia's face from the shadows. dew stands beside him, his back straightened and his hands held behind him. his tail is motionless behind him as he stands, not even moving his chest as he breathes. it's like he's a statue.

i find my way to a seat with carie and chat quietly as everyone else makes their way to the room. once the last few people arrive and seat themselves copia begins to speak, raising his hands as animated as ever. his hands swing in the air with his words.

"hello everybody, I'd like to welcome you to yet another summoning!" He bows and soaks in the cheers and clapping of the audience. some ghouls sit in the front, just as stiff as the way dew stands. they all remind you of a gargoyle, the way they stay unmoved once ordered to do so. "tonight, ifrit is being replaced as fire ghoul by our dear boy, dewdrop! not only that, but we will be getting a new water ghoul!"

once again, the siblings erupt to screams and cheers in response to copia's words. its almost deafening, but you smile and join the madness. copia first decides to transition dew's element from water to fire, which honestly suits him better. he draws blood from the ghoul, who doesn't even move as to wince. the only movement from him is a slight involuntary twitch of his tail, as a response to the pain. the blood begins to trickle down his arm as copia steps away.

copia gestures for ifrit to join, now standing to face the smaller ghoul, not nearly as still and postured as dew. copia then traces blood from ifrit, then mixes it with that dripping from dew's arm. though ifrit is unbothered and is given permission to walk back, dew is unable to stand as still as before, shaking, and even groaning and yelling from time to time. he tries his best to show the pain he's in as little as possible, trying to keep his dignity and ego intact. flames burst around him, smoke filling the room. his growls are still heard despite him being completely unseen.

after what seems like forever he finally calms himself, exchanging nods with copia and sitting down. his body is still trembling from shock, and ifrit nudges him and shoots a finger gun in his direction. i can almost see the proud smile through his mask. dew looks a bit relieved as he sits with ifrit, his tail now swaying behind him.

"alright! round of applause for the little guy!" everyone claps, and dew turns his head to see everyone. his eyes light up as he watches the various smiles and waving hands in the air, the siblings cheering and shouting his name. he feels special, and proud to be a new fire ghoul.

"now... what you've all been dying to see." copia pauses for a moment of suspense, scanning around the room for all of the excited and overjoyed faces.

"the summoning.. of our new water ghoul!"

he walks to the pentagram drawn into the floor and recites chants he's memorized from before. some siblings join eagerly, almost in attempt to boost some chance that they will get a ghoul close to what everyone wants and hopes for. a glow which resembles that of fire shines from the ground and it opens, a figure crawling from the space. no growls or screeches sound from the creature, which catches a few people by surprise. most of the time ghouls try their best to intimidate and inflict fear upon humans, but this one is quiet and calm. his eyes glow blue, a pretty and bright one, like that of a clear ocean's water. his body is covered in fins and gils, and copia hurries to cover him, since he doesn't have any clothing.

"cover yourself, newbie! you don't want to put on the wrong kind of show." copia laughs, getting a few chuckles from the crowd. he throws a pair of sweatpants to the new water ghoul, a quiet smack before it falls to the ground in front of him. the ghoul quickly listens, pulling on the loose pair of pants just before the smoke can clear and show too much of him. his face is an almost greyish blue color in embarassment. is that what it looks like when ghouls blush? i think to myself, my eyes frozen on him. he has long, dark hair, but not as long as dew's. his eyelashes are thick, perfectly framing his big, beautiful eyes. a tooth hooks on to his bottom lip as he stands awkwardly, still proccessing everything that is happening.

"say your name for us, newbie!"

"rain..."

"louder! this is a big room!"

"my name is rain."

"give it up for rain!"

just as always, the siblings, and this time the ghouls all cheer and applaud the new water ghoul. he stands awkwardly beside copia, not quite knowing what to do. many siblings rush to greet him, some with gifts in hand and some not. the majority are intimidated and just turn to leave, which is expected when a hellspawn is literally summoned before your eyes. carie and i typically work with the ghouls, so of course we have to run over to him and introduce ourselves. we are the last of the siblings to greet him so the ghouls all stand close behind, waiting to say hello to their new bandmate.

carie is the first to speak, bowing to rain politely.

"Hello rain! I'm carie. me and my friend here usually help around with the ghouls, so you'll be seeing us a lot." she smiles and gestures to me as she speaks. her voice is as soft as her personality, one that you could never get tired of listening to. her hand gracefully sways as she points to me, like a leaf dancing gently in the wind.

"uhm.. hi." his nervousness tugs a small chuckle from me while i walk closer to properly say hello. i bow to him once the two are done greeting each other, putting on my most welcoming face. i grab his hand, already extended for a handshake. he's extremely skinny, the grey tone in his skin has a hint of blue in it. his gils are absolutely beautiful. i shake his hand with slight eagerness in my eyes, beginning to speak.

"I'm y/n. I hope I'll get to see you a lot in the future."

"yeah." his face serms to turn into a deeper blue than the rest of his skin, but it's hard to tell from the dark lighting. dew makes sure to be the first ghoul to greet him, pushing past the others and making his way right beside me and carie.

"enough of the humans. us ghouls are the ones you're gonna be spending the most time with." dew paces around rain, as if observing him. "hmph. I guess you'll be an alright replacement." his tail brushes against rain's arm as he makes his way back to where he was before, standing in front of the new water ghoul.

"alright, y/n. let's head back and let them get to know each other." carie smiles.

[astroboyanalysis]

[Finale]

I do loooove that he was genuinely and truly going to go Talk This Out. without Atom being there at all. Of course he follows anyway but Ochanomizu is just so bold and with very little to back it up in terms of physicality. Like he really just thought he'd be able to resolve this robot hunting down other robots systematically by having a calm conversation that would not in any way devolve to violence.

Oh how I wish he said what he thinks it's "for"

I just love his paternal moments and when he can wax poetic about the nature of Atom's technology.

adorable in this panel i dont have a comment

It's interesting that he did disobey just now to take Atom away from the battlefield, but doesn't want/feel the need to disobey on the core order to defeat him.

He's so strangely happy to see him. The last time we saw Tenma (in the Omnibus order - I am actually unaware where Tenma had last been in publication order but it doesn't really matter that much) he was selling Atom to the circus for not growing, a problem that he himself created.

Also have to love the swagful introduction of the silent removal of the hat. He seems happy to see Atom after he runs up to him in spite of his coolguy poker face beforehand.

He does look pretty truly desperate here despite this being something he was considering just before Ochanomizu was taken hostage. He really doesn't want to go against what Ochanomizu said - Although it should be pointed out that I don't think Ochanomizu even mentioned his own limits and rather said that he Shouldn't because he Doesn't Need It and was Made to be a robot with 100,000 horsepower. So Tenma pointing out that there's risk to him is actually a rare Tenma W. So anyway Atom like immediately has a heavily conflicted fever dream on thinking about it which is almost funny. He is truly enthralled with the raw power of it all. You hate to see it.

Really do just admire how cool a silhouette Pluto has. He looks a little silly in the face (as many robots do in the original manga. I say this lovingly.) but the silhouette itself is badass.

YE GADS MOMENT

damn. and they did this with their heads as well?

i LOOOOVE the x ray illustrations. I actually have a cool figure that lights up (although I took the batteries out bc i will forget to take them out and they'll leak in there) and is like, transparent plastic so you can see all his internals (if this interests anyone lmk I can get a picture). We can also see here that it's corroborated with what was shown in His Highness Deadcross that his head is only really for the sensing organs and external things you can See his head do - His brain is actually closer to his sternum than his heart, but there is no arrow pointing to that little heart at all. Wonder what it is.

Also, super compact atomic engine here. If the concept of him running on Atomic power is actually kept, his most powerful attack (and final attack if he did it) would probably be to stop his cooling systems and let his core melt down. That's kind of dark though and I'm glad it's not something that Tezuka really went with - Atom was a vision for a better future where the technology that had recently ravaged Japan via the Atomic bombs could be used for good, and Atom is a display of that hope.

ok like. its not funny. but its a little funny. he rushed out straight to pluto then hit his head on a rock and died

genuinely a sweet moment i love her

ok i literally forgot he existed. there were a few days between reading but wow hes just not all that compelling a character to me. and also the racism.

yippeeee he said it peace and love on planet earth <3

kind of wasteful ngl. you built that whole thing in here just for this?

god i wish i understood what the fuck he was talking about. is he a hermit

hes so upset about it whos gonna tell him monster can also just be a phrase meant to indicate someone is extremely strong

It literally speaks for itself I'm obsessed with the dynamic I love them so much

Okay I was going to put in the most important parts of the scene where Pluto helps Atom stop the eruption but it was literally. the whole scene and that was way too many pictures so heres two instead

I just. It's a good story. It's a sort of simple resolution in a way but it's a good story. And nothing else happens and Pluto lives happily ever after.

Nah just kidding he exploded.

Me too...

Really do love that the resolution is so harsh. There was so much death and destruction and really, in the end, for what? To find out who was the greatest because one party wanted to prove it?

Not to make the metaphor explicit but Astro Boy has always been a very anti-war series. It's good to sometimes have resolutions that drive that home instead of it always being wins all around.

Okay, that was a long story. Next one I'll be back with is "Mad Machine," then "Robot Land" to finish out the first Omnibus. Both of those are pretty short, especially compared to Greatest Robot on Earth.

7. The Greatest Robot on Earth

oh boy here we go

As a warning, this liveblog may take me multiple days (or like, a week, I literally don't know) to get all the reblogs on. The way you will know I am truly done is 1. I will say so on that reblog above the readmore and 2. I will post the next story. Won't do that until I'm done with this one, obviously.

Let's get started.

(I begin the first panel and am immediately affronted with what I must acknowledge is racism) ah

I am not the best person to speak on this. I am also likely not the first (although a quick google search has not revealed essays to me) to see this and recognize its heavy anti-arab racism and caricature. Because I am not the best person to speak on this, aside from pointing out that I do in fact recognize this and asking that you as the reader of this blog also recognize this, there is not much I am planning to discuss on it. I can't imagine there's much that hasn't already been said. It was wrong to portray a person or culture this way then, and it's wrong now. That's all I'll say for now.

Glad he has such a convenient visual for us. Also, I'm so fond of these robot designs. I love Pluto but boy are these silly and fun.

This sounds both normal to want and achievable as a goal, yeah

This is one of those just actually horrific moments, lmao. The gore of it all. The fact that his horns seem made to simply pass current through whatever touches them, or to arc electricity almost, is just wild. If I'm understanding the visual correctly and its meant to bring forward arcs of electricity like a taser, but at such a large scale, I'm fairly certain it would simply melt one of these robots if it didn't blow them up.

I'm glad we've moved past this visual.

I am somewhat curious if it was meant to be received as funny at the time. It must have been, right...?

Atom's characterization in the original manga is so starkly different to how its developed over time (and especially with multiple authors at this point). He's so ready to fight and doesn't stop to think at all - I'm so fond of the (cough, 2003, cough) idealistic and pacifistic Atom who only fights when there is no choice we've come to love now. The parallels between his appearance (childlike) and his views on the world (naive) are clear and the way that clashes with the events in the world around him and pushes him into these really difficult situations is just so much more compelling to me, idk. I really do love the "I don't want to fight you, I want to help you, I want to be your friend" (and actually meaning it) approach.

Some of what I really love about Astro Boy is that Atom's idealism has truth to it, but it puts him in conflict with others. The truth is somewhere in the idea that everyone has a right to exist, that everyone has value, that robots and humans can coexist - But just because it's true doesn't mean it's uncontroversial, and his existence being in opposition to others interests is what pushes him to make hard decisions. He's being shown again and again these conflicts that arise when humans make robots with bad intentions, when humans mistreat robots, when they try to live together, etc. etc., but his childlike and naive approach to the world LETS him keep hope that the better future he believes in will come to pass. His permanent youth is paralleled by his permanent optimism and the fact that he simply won't become jaded - or at least, not for long.

Gosh I can't wait to get to 2003 again.

I could talk about how the antidote to apathy and becoming overwhelmed with the horrors of the world is in what kids bring to the table forever. But it's all there, isn't it?

Anyway "I'll teach you to make a fool of me" while being inches away from certain death is very funny. "You think that's funny? I'm about to be hilarious"

Can't argue with that!

I love when Ochanomizu gets to have a moment like this.

This moment directly parallels something Atom said earlier, actually:

Anyway. "If it was only about strength" is a very important quote here and I'll probably come back to it at the end of the story. He really sums it all up right at the beginning though. What a good father figure. Although he does say ""only"" 100,000 horsepower which seems silly.

Uran what the hell lmao. He's clearly upset why are you egging him on like that.

Ok I do love how angry and ashamed he is here. The Atom we see in this comic specifically seems to base a lot of his value on his ability to win a fight through brute strength, which is kind of interesting. It's also interesting when we see this sort of character be so submissive to authority - It indicates there's a heirarchy beyond strength that they do have to acknowledge (social capital, respect of elders, something in there), yet they value strength so highly maybe because it's the heirarchy they can control, somewhat. And yet here he's been told he's not allowed to get stronger to win.

(Guy that likes bugs) I'm getting some real bugs vibes from North #2's design

He's shaped like a praying mantis to me, sort of. I'm about to say the same thing when we see Gesicht as well, but he looks more like a fly.

The idea of this being impersonal is very strange to me, but also very compelling. I will ignore how much I love Pluto's approach to this manga because I'm not commenting on differences here, and I'm just going to talk about it as its own characterization. Like a normal person.

Why would Pluto have any amount of hatred towards the robots he's meant to destroy? They're more alike him than the one commanding him to kill them. There's a kind of tragedy in this, I suppose - although he's not particularly against hurting them, either. But the fact he feels a need to tell them it's not personal is interesting.

Uran also having the same idea of Atom's value that he himself does, but having very little care for Ochanomizu's wisdom on the matter (while Atom dejectedly accepts it as fact) puts them in conflict here - She expects more of him than he's showing - Why is he bowing down now? But Atom also values his own niceties, his deference to power, and his acceptance of the authority of the one who, in a way, owns him.

We do see that Ochanomizu tells Atom he's free in the first comic, yet Atom continues to treat Professor Ochanomizu as if he created him, and values his authority above all else. As of yet, we haven't seen him directly disagree with Professor Ochanomizu or his authority, and he does act basically the way any owned robot (or a child born to a parent) would (seems to stick around Ochanomizu, listens to what he says and obeys, etc.), just with far more freedoms and independence.

Basically, in this first iteration, their relationship is very difficult for me to parse out. He's certainly paternal, he's certainly a guiding figure, and he certainly has authority over Atom that Atom does not question, but Atom is given a full family unit outside of the Professor, and the Professor is not his creator.

We have not (yet) seen a reason for Atom to understand that Ochanomizu's authority is earned, like, for example, him disobeying and then finding that Ochanomizu was right all along. This iteration of Atom lacks the tendency of children to push boundaries or to think independently, it seems.

her pajamas are just so cute

CONFIRMED they're pants in this iteration and not a permanent part of his body.

Great question, Uran! It'd be awesome if we had any introduction to you or your creation before reading this comic so that this would strike us in any way at all. But alas, that is not the order of the omnibus.

Still, she has a good point as far as we're concerned. Why didn't he do that? Why aren't there a bunch of Atoms flying around all the time? I'm curious if the manga itself will actually answer this.

Pluto himself is so deeply interesting to me. He does smile while he fights the robots he's been ordered to fight, and while he kills them, and yet he seems to value robots in general on a basic level. He made it clear it was not a personal issue and was because he was ordered to, but it's still interesting to me that he doesn't seem to care one way or the other about violence. He doesn't like it enough to enact it when he hasn't been ordered to.

Ochanomizu has the authority to Forbid Atom from fighting. It's clear Atom is choosing not to, at Ochanomizu's request, so taking a hostage to force him into it also indicates to me that it's a choice to obey that can be overriden if Atom wills it (and that, without this motivation, he simply doesn't, or prefers to defer to Ochanomizu out of respect, obligation, or otherwise).

"Baby sister" is so cute considering that she never was a baby

His kindness.... What made him like that. I do love him so much

I do love that Atom's mercy plays a major role here. I think it's interesting that Pluto asks in the first place.

"That's what I was designed to do" is an answer that isn't immediately rebuffed by Atom with anything about freedom to choose your path or anything. He seems to mostly stay quiet on what other robots do in their positions, from what we've seen, and doesn't particularly care to help anyone liberate themselves if they don't already want it in the first place.

Can any Astro Boy scholars let me know what the original text says in Japanese and what the meaning of the word used is? Tomboy just seems so strange here and I'm curious how faithful the translation is to the original text. I'm not even sure how to go about finding a copy of the story in Japanese, frankly, because it's so old.

But why....? His father doesn't even seem to have his own take on this or care that it's dangerous, it's all about the fact that Ochanomizu told him to.

He's just very flylike to me

Again. horrific.

Okay I don't have anything to say but Cobalt's really cute in this panel. Anyway I'll continue this in a reblog because I've run out of images!