#trenchcoat selection

[icarusbetide]

i joke that rev period america was just 20 people in a circle recycling reusing periodic beef with each other but holy shit the same names every single goddamn time. von steuben wtf were you doing at the doctors' riot of 1788. hercules mulligan you exist in a different stratosphere from the adams family, why is your son involved with john adam's son. von steuben and hamilton why are you involved in this as well. aaron burr why are you maria reynold's lawyer. can i expect jefferson and madison in a trenchcoat to jump out of the bushes or what.

[whereserpentswalk]

Reblog to go on a date with your monster. Like to give them a little gift.

Look under the cut to see what meeting your joyfriend is like.

1 you walk into a messy apartment, it looks like this is their first place where they live alone, away from other angels. They're sitting on a Lome mattress, cuddling a stuffed animal and watching TV. Despite everything they're still beautiful, their body youthful, and sexless, and athletic, their four white wings forever stained with blood. They look up at you with rose gold eyes, afraid, apologizing for if they scared you. But to their surprise you don't shy away from them, and somehow they feel safe and pure when you sit down to talk to them.

2 you see them in the shadows, alone in the dark of an empty park, changing shape, first a muscular humanoid in armor, then a wolf dancing through the night, then a combination of both, then finally a modern human in a ragged trenchcoat. Despite all their forms, their eyes are always the same. They come up to you and bow with a smile on their face. You slowly aproch them, for whatever reason their voice seems so familiar. You greet them with your hand as you would an animal, even as they're in human form, as you slowly pet their scars for the first time.

3 within the golden halls of an ornate train station you see them for the first time, through the crowd with inhumanly green eyes. They notice you despite everyone else. And you notice everything off about them, the wrong numbers of teeth, their hands occasionally having more or less then five fingers before returning back to normal. It's wordless but it doesn't need words for you to tell them that they don't need to pretend to be human around you. And for a momment you see them, naked, with branches for antlers, and the wings of a monarch butterfly, a serpent's head where a human’s genitals would be, and teeth made out of broken glass, and then only a rose exists where they once stood, but you know you'll see them again.

4 you see them for the first time in an empty parking lot, a massive creature with black eyes and countless legs, glowing yet dark, as they come twords you they take notes in an unknowable language. They inspect you as the dark matter pitter patters across your face. You expect them to hurt you as they reach out their claw but they only gently pet your head. You can tell that they're suprised, you're more receptive then most humans are. They give you a small peice of food to let you eat right from their claw, and it tastes batter then anything on earth.

5 you meet them in a café on a quiet side street. They don't like being seen by too many people. Their body is beautiful, but so inhuman, tall and slender, with silvery armor covering them from the neak down, their face pale and their eyes long since ripped out and replaced with red mechanical replacements. They're a bit afraid you won't be ok with them when you first meet them, but you start talking, and though they're shy at first they like the sound of your voice. They let you pet their head and they cuddle up to you, and their body is warm like a churning machine as you hug them for the first time, and they feel comforted in your arms.

6 you see them in a dark subway station. They clearly once were human, centuries ago, their body forever young, but pale and skinny, their eyes turned white and their mouth jawless and fanged like a lampry's. Their body is entirely sexless, barely shielded from the cold by a ragged suit. Most people avoid them, but you ask if they're ok and they just look up at you, when you ask if they're hungry they nod. You agree to give them some blood, and it feels like they're giving you little kisses as you offer them your wrist. When they're full you hug their cold body, and for a momment they're made warm.

7 an undead servent slowly brings them over to you in a wheelchair. Though their mansion is beautiful it's trapped in time, and dark even in the daytime. You can see the computer they're trapped in, it must be decades old by now. They look at you with an avatar meant to look like a drawing of themself, or at least how they'd want to look. Something about them makes you want to touch them, but you know you never can. You put your hand to the screen, and you can feel the magic flow through you, and for a momment that's enough.

8 you see them sitting there alone in a bar. A slender androgynous humanoid, they're wearing a black suit but upon closer examination it's part of their body, never to be taken off. You sit next to them, and they smile at you, you talk for a few moments and it's like they know more about the universe then you could ever imagine. They pet your head, and it feels like it'll kill you, but it only makes you feel more alive. They hand you a business card with their number on it, it says they're a servent of hades, they tell you you can contact them again if you like, they'll be around. When you look again they're entirely gone once more.

9 walking through an abandoned mall you see them, a life sized puppet, with stars and moons on its outfit, and a painted mask for a face. Coming closer to them you can see there's red liquid on them, and strange otherworldly bugs and mushrooms on their body. When you try to touch them they float in the air, and move as if they're alive, for a momment you think they'll hurt you but they run away. When you find them again, tracking them down to a dark arcade, you see they're crying. They expect you to hurt them but you reach out to help them instead, nobody's ever tried to help them like that before...

10 you see them ontop of a skyscraper's roof. They youthful human wearing a leather jacket smiling as a massive reptile, with bat like wings, and massive steel fangs, and a tail like a scorpion's flies down to them. You wonder if they'll try to calm it but instead they move together like one being, their eyes the same yellow color. The creature comes twords you, fire in its mouth, and poison in its teeth. You realize the two beings are one in the same, as the wyvern bows its head, ready for you to ride it, with its human body at your side.

11 for a momment they chase you through the night, the hooded masked figure running twords you, blade in hand. But as you cross the street they can't follow, it's as if they've hit a wall. The gods themselves have bound them. While you're in safety you look at them, there's a sadness behind that mask. You wonder, if they can't hurt you here, would there be any reason to hate them, would they choose to spare you if they knew your face, your voice...

12 all you can see is blackness, yet there is no darkness, only this slick metallic liquid around you. The lake bubbles up creating a false body with its fluid, first male, then female, then both, then neither. It beckons you in, and you know it would not let you drown. When you step inside all you can feel, all you can see, is the fluid around you, and you feel as if you're being held.

[zepskies]

PSA on Tumblr Tags: Tag Lists & # Tags

Just wanted to spread this news for people who don't know the new Tumblr updates that have to do with tagging on posts, both for user tag lists and for descriptive hashtags to help people find your post. I've had to learn them the hard way. 😅

User Tagging:

This first part is for people who have tag lists. Tumblr has recently changed the rules on tagging other blogs/users on a post.

You can still tag up to 50 blogs per post, but they must be spread out into groups of 5. Otherwise, the blog won't be highlighted/tagged and the person will not be notified.

Example (and more) below the cut: ⤵️

✅ Example:

And this is what it will probably look like if you don't spread them out into groups of 5:

Notice that only the first 5 blogs in each section are actually tagged.

Also something important to note: copy/pasting a tag list alone often isn't enough. After I copy over a tag list from another post, I always have to click on each blog name individually to select the blog and make sure it's tagged properly, so people get notified.

Trust me, I get why some writers have decided to ditch tag lists altogether. They can be tricky. 😂

Hashtags on Posts:

As most of you guys know, hashtags help people find your post. The limit of how many tags you can use has bumped up to 30 tags.

Now, this doesn't mean you have to use all 30 slots. But using the most popular tags will increase the likelihood that people will find your post.

By no means am I an expert on this, but I've been reading a lot of stories that should have SO many more reblogs, comments, etc. If some of them were using a few more key tags, they'd likely be getting much more traffic and notes on them.

Want to find out which hashtags are the most popular, relevant to your post?

Well, you can actually search them in the Your Tags tab, Tags You Follow, and go to Manage:

For Dean Winchester fanfiction, for example, here are the tags I use most often:

Ignore the first and last tags, which are just for me to organize the post for my blog. But I would say the most important tags here are the first few:

[character's full name]

[character's full name] x reader or [character's full name] x oc

fandom name

These three are absolutely key for any romance pairing fanfiction post, in my opinion.

Aside from being the most relevant for a pairing fanfic, these are often the most popular tags overall, as they are the tags with a high follower count. The rest can also be important supplemental hashtags relevant to the post.

You can also just start typing into this bar in your post draft and see what "popular tag" recommendations Tumblr gives you:

And that's it! For anyone who finds this PSA helpful, I salute you! 🫡 And I wish you all luck on future tagging endeavors. 💜

I'm also including some of my fellow writers just in case they have something to add to this — or if they don't know this info, though I'm sure they probably do already:

@luci-in-trenchcoats @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @rizlowwritessortof @artyandink @waynes-multiverse

@jacklesbrainworms @deanwritings @deanwinchesterswitch @deanbrainrotwritings @waywardxwords

@angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @kaleldobrev @kayleighwinchester

[idreamofdango]

that's because when you started wearing your trenchcoat it made you twice as intimidating ... if that was even possible. my coat makes for a good side hustle. it's flame-resistant too.

i think it's teen ibiki's trench coat cause adult ibiki is a big guy it would be like you stole it from your dad

interesting deductive skills you got there ... @morino-ibiki do you care to elaborate?

[au-hemeanssomething]

I know we all like to make fun of people for bringing wrath and natural selection shirts outside but, realistically speaking how many “normal” people are going to recognize those shirts and put two and two together? I feel like you’re more likely to get a negative reaction if you wear a simple Trenchcoat then any clothing with those words on it

[starshower1215]

Detective Hange Zoë (with team Erwin and Levi)

She smokes a pipe like Sherlock Holmes and dresses in a trenchcoat of the similar style. Unlike Sherlock, she wears it in her Hange style of draping it over her shoulders

Saxophone music. Blues. I do not need to elaborate.

There are two newspaper-boy style hats (called cabbie hats specifically): the one for men (it is flat) and one for women (it is puffy). Hange has donned both.

She is perfect for being a spy. She can enter a bar to listen in on conversation in a sleek dress, hair down, and then follow the informant home under a different disguise, dressed in a suit, her hair done as usual, and she would pull off both disguises.

Erwin is part of her team, and he has a very grand selection of golden, bronze, copper, elegant watches. He likes to switch. He and Hange are the brains.

Levi is part of her team, and he isn't good at not looking suspicious or threatening, so he generally works as The Guy who stalks the informant [stealthily] home and murders him. Oddly enough, as the clean freak of the group, he is the one getting his hands dirty.

For a change of pace, Erwin is also comedic relief. The trio may have someone cornered, and Levi may be about to stone the man, but Erwin will still make a lame pun and/or dad joke about the victim being between a rock and a hard place, with a completely straight face that only Levi and Hange can read as amused, and Hange will go bonkers while Levi just despises them both [fondly].

They get exclusive tickets into a Rich People Place, where the target is, but only get their hands on two. Erwin and Hange hide Levi inside one of their enormous trenchcoats (to his dismay).

Hange wears her shiny glasses. Erwin wears a monocle and insists that it looks cool.

When they go to a bar together to celebrate a successful mission, Erwin holds his drink well, Hange is the lightweight, and Levi is boring and orders water (jk).

Erwin has a secret chocolate stash in his trenchcoat's inside pocket. Hange knows but Levi doesn't.

Hange pins various snacks to the insides of his coat so he can whip it open to reveal an array of food to choose from on the go. He somehow manages to keep the wrappers and bags from crinkling lously when he walks.

Levi does the same, but with sponges. No one is sure why and he glares at whoever asks.

Erwin figures out who is behind the trouble, but Hange develops the plan to catch them. This is the contrast of their minds: Erwin analyzes and Hange designs.

Hange has a special selection of lollipops in her coat just for Levi (whether he accepts them or not is for you to decide).

On stealth missions to fancy Rich People Places, they have a whole GRWM style preparation in one bathroom like school girls before prom (it's more professional than that, obviously, totally), and Hange and Levi make very good use of Erwin's hair gel.

Hange fixes Levi's hair to make him look like mini Erwin.

Hange is the one who performs autopsies on dead bodies for further evidence. She learns a lot about different kinds of poisons this way.

They take city buses around rainy streets at night, illuminated by the faint yellow glow of street lights. The three of them sit in comfortable silence in the seats, each reading separate books because it's an aesthetic.

Levi wears his fedora hat (what type of hat is it?) and likes striped coats.

They all go to libraries and search through the city's old newspapers for information, or through dusty books and scrolls to find out what this symbol they keep seeing means, or what relations this man had with that one (this is quickly becoming dark academia)

Hange and Levi team up with each other and make fun of Erwin for his reading material choices when they get on the bus.

If the bus is full, Erwin or Hange will hold onto the bus rail things and Levi holds onto them because they Know Him.

Hange carries a little leather bound notebook in her pockets even off the job, in case she runs into something important.

[doomedwarlock]

#DOOMEDWARLOCK: " I'm a nasty piece of work , chief . Ask anybody . "

Lev's non selective JOHN CONSTANTINE from Vertigo Comics, DC Comics and the Sandman Universe. Exclusively comic influenced.

promo template - character playlist

RULES & INFO UNDER THE CUT -

RULES -

Basic etiquette is expected: no godmodding, ic is not ooc, etc.

A giant quest onto itself- I haven't consumed every media John has appeared in. For reference I have read/watched (in no particular order): the entire original Hellblazer run and its special Constantine: The Hellblazer Hellblazer: City of Demons Hellblazer: All His Engines Hellblazer: Chas the Knowledge sandman #3 Swamp Thing 1982 The Horrorist Sandman Universe: Hellblazer, Hellblazer: Dead in America Hellblazer: Rise and Fall The Trenchcoat Brigade Dark Knights of Steel injustice year 3 Batman: Urban Legends Batman: Damned Zatanna and the Ripper Spirit World both dark justice league movies Pre established connections and plotting is encouraged. Especially if your muse is from DC or the Sandman universe.

I don't consider all of hellblazer canon to my portrayal, I might make a list at some point, but most notably I am choosing to ignore Brian Azzarello's Hellblazer and the final 50 issues of the original Hellblazer. Also Hellblazer: Rebirth and any comic that takes place in a different universe. If you wish to rp with specific versions of John (like DKoS or Injustice verse) feel free to come plot!

Hellblazer is a british political satire horror comic about a queer man in the 80s, this means trigger warnings for canon typical gore, a general pessimism about the world, politics and Britishness. Smoking and alcohol abuse will also be present. I will tag these triggers and any other common ones that may arise.

if you decide to unfollow me please (soft)block me

rp memes are the best way to start interacting with me, they are always accepted no matter how long ago I reblogged it.

INFO -

A foul-mouthed, disillusioned, chain smoking British cinic, John Constantine has had an affinity for magic since his youth. After running away from home as a teenager after a botched curse caused his father to become withered and frail, John eventually made his home in London. Quickly becoming involved in the city's occult circles. From there he made a name for himself for being a powerful sorcerer, one who can solve most problems with only his wit, but also a weirdness magnet. Becoming inevitably linked with forces truly out of his depth.

Though John's age varies across media, for simplicity's sake I will keep it at 43. His usual stomping ground is London, but he travels around very often for various reasons so he can easily be put wherever he needs to be. He's a very easy character to add to other universes (just ask DC).

He is also a relentless flirt, please don't mistake this as me trying to force a ship. If you / your character don't like his advances, feel free to let me / him know ic / ooc. Characters under 25 are too young for him.

Mun is 23 and Belgian

[ladyswillmart]

I was trying to get some outside shots of my base when a traveling Sales-Physicist Entity visited and (parked their ship right on my front lawn and) tried to tempt me with their frankly impressive array of bootleg upgrade modules—presumably the Korvax equivalent of a guy opening a trenchcoat to reveal the latest selection in "Folex" watches and "Gccui" handbags...

[rebspook5]

notes challenge thingy :3 (tcc person ver)

RULES:

5 notes per person!!

NO alt accs

5 notes - i'll finish a drawing or 2 i stopped working on

10 notes - i'll clean my room and (try to) put up some tcc posters

20 notes - i'll start spending time with my parents more.

40 notes - i'll correct my therapist when she misgender/deadnames me.

80 notes - i'll tell my therapist i'm a tcc person.

100 notes - i'll post pics of my new cats!!! 😨😨😨😨

150 notes - i'll ask my mom for a trenchcoat

200 notes - i'll ask my mom for an army shirt (like how cal has in zero day!!!)

300 notes - i'll tell my therapist that i'm a system

450 notes - i'll ask for a natural selection shirt!!!!

500 notes - i'll try out editing!! i'll make a tcc edit of my audience's choosing (will make a poll if me get this far!!!!)

[crack-in-the-chassis]

FAQ

What is Crack?

In short, it's a fanwork--traditionally fic, but we're inclusive--which is absurd, ridiculous, ludicrous, and other -ouses. Imagine the kind of thing you come up with at 3AM during a fit of the giggles. It's exuberant, it's shameless, it's unfettered creativity.

For a lengthier discussion of "crack" with a historical lens, see also: https://fanlore.org/wiki/Crack

Is the event Cas-centric?

No. The line "crack in his chassis" refers to Cas in canon, and we do anticipate plenty of entries to feature Thee Treasured Blorbo, but you can produce fanworks about any characters, items, episodes, monsters, etc. from canon you like.

Is this a bang, or a reverse bang?

It's both! It's neither! Participants will be divided into Pitchers (who create their fanwork first) and Catchers (who select a pitch during Claims and create a fanwork in response to it.) This event is not limited to the traditional fanart and fanfic.

What is the minimum required work?

Minimum word count for fic, meta, and other text-based fanworks: 1,500

Minimum length for audio or video based fanworks: 30 seconds

Minimum size for visual fanworks such as art, comics, sculpture, etc: one image suitable for web browsing, so about 750px width or height. This is very hand-wavy. Gifs can be smaller in dimension because they're technically multiple images stacked in a trenchcoat.

Is there a maximum word length or art size?

No! The minimums are calculated to be feasible for the average creator within the time allotted for the endowed, but if you are endowed with the hubris of gods, then go ahead and write that 150k epic or stage a three hour opera with full sets, score, and costumes. Just make sure it’s done by your posting date, mmkay?

What types of "other" fanworks are allowed?

Fanworks must fit two criteria:

1. Your fanwork must be able to be displayed via a public website. Fanfic and digital fanart are de riguer. Traditional 2D artwork can be photographed. Serial 2D art, such as sequential art aka comics, are displayed in much the same way. But we can do so much more than that.

3D or non-traditional art with a primary visual element--like cosplay, sculpture, cake decorating--can be displayed with photos from multiple angles and accompanied by an artist's statement advising of any elements that are lost (e.g., textures, flavors, scents, mild electrical shock.)

Performance art, music, a podcast or radio play, theatrical skits, etc. can be recorded by video or audio and supplemented with text and photos as needed. Video games which can be played in a browser window also work. (Shameless plug: Dean Dodge https://4mortea.itch.io/deandodge as an example.)

2. Your fanwork must be something that you are considered to be the sole owner of, and which is fair use. So, for example, if you're a filker and you claim a pitcher's fanfic, you can't just set the fic to music, as the ficcer is the owner of the text. But you can compose your own lyrics which comment upon or respond to the fic.

Note that co-creators are allowed--so an author who writes lyrics and a singer-composer who then sets the lyrics to music could present the resultant song as a single pitch or catch, with the "duo" being considered the sole owner.

Fanvids and gifsets that are just clips of canon footage without significant transformation (e.g., other than cutting and color correction) also don't qualify for this event. (We still love them, though.)

Types of transformation which would qualify vids and gifs of canon footage include, but are not limited to: juxtaposing different shots or scenes to create new meaning; adding commentary; altering the images (mod's personal favorite is adding cat ears to the characters). You can also include captions, subtitles, musical accompaniment, etc.

PLEASE NOTE: We know this is a huge tradition and genre, and this hurts us, it does, but using another artist's music on the video without written permission* is not permitted. Youtube will throw your ass under the bus and we will not be able to help you. Crack in the Chassis isn't tangling with Universal Music Group. Nuh uh. Don't go where we can't follow, Mr Frodo.

* if you manage to get permission somehow then holy snackballs please let us know.

For further information on fair use:

https://smallbusiness.chron.com/copyright-laws-30-seconds-music-61149.html

https://www.transformativeworks.org/faq/ (specifically the section "What exactly is Fair Use?"

How will Claims work, since you're being so complicated about it?

All of the pitches will be presented in a single gallery for all the potential catchers to review and select their preferences. (Pitches may be split into two categories depending on how many under-18 participants and NSFW pitches we get.)

In addition to stating what elements they would and would not like (e.g., yes to gothic horror, no to adultery and A/B/O), pitchers will also specify the kinds of catches they would and would not like. E.g., If you are a fanficer and the idea of a catch piece that is also fanfic unnerves you, you can restrict fic catches. If you are THRILLED with the idea of a companion fic, you can request *only *fic catches. If you grow weary of traditional fic and fanart, you can specify that the catch piece must be an "other" type of fanwork. Any and all choices. There will be ticky boxes.

Can I sign up as a Pitcher and a Catcher?

YES! For the sake of anonymity for Claims, however, you will be restricted from the Pitcher's channel in the Discord server until Claims are over.

How many Pitches and Catches can I submit?

Each person or team can only submit a maximum of three pitches. Each pitch must be fully completed before submitting additional pitches. E.g., You can submit one pitch that is 50% completed for claims. If you want to submit two pitches, your first pitch must be fully complete and the second one 50% complete. For three pitches, the first two must be fully complete and the third 50% complete.

For Claims, each catcher will recieve their most preferred pitch which is still available, on a first come, first serve basis. If there are pitches remaining after the first round, we will do additional rounds of claims as needed. Catchers can pick up only one pitch per round.

Can I discuss my fanwork before it’s submitted and posted?

No. You are not permitted to publically discuss your fanwork in detail or post any portion of it outside the designated channels in the Discord server prior to your assigned posting day.

Pitchers, we ask that you take precautions to prevent the catchers from being able to recognize your pitch piece at claims. This may mean not publicly discussing your piece at all, or keeping discussion to a private chat with your alpha/beta, or just being obnoxiously vague in shared spaces. We know there will be slip-ups. Catchers, please pretend you Do Not See It and uphold the spirit of the event: to be paired with someone based on their pitch, not their identity, and to make some new friends! This may mean deliberately not choosing a pitch because you know who the creator is.

Can I create a work that’s part of a series?

Yes, as long as the work meets the criteria of the event and the work (but not necessarily the series) is posted in its entirety on the assigned posting date. Pieces that can stand on their own are strongly preferred. Be aware that your catcher may not have the time or inclination to brush up on the parts of the series other than the event piece. Catchers, if you’re creating something that happens to fit into a series you’ve been working on, please make sure your pitcher is okay with that.

Can I use a work I’ve already started?

We do ask that you create a new work specific to this event. However, if you’ve already started on a work but haven’t posted it or discussed it publicly anywhere, the mods aren’t really going to know, are we?

Is this restricted to SPN?

Your work should engage primarily with SPN or The Winchesters, but crossovers are allowed. If you want to focus exclusively on quasi-canon materials, like Supernatural tie-in books, graphic novels, or the Ghostfacers webisodes, that's welcome, too.

What about RPF?

There's two prongs to this.

1. Canon includes fictionalized versions of several crew and cast in the s6 episode The French Mistake, and the character Chuck establishes the conceit of a writer as god of the 'verse who engages with the characters he's manipulating. So anything in that vein is allowed, and godspeed.

2. SPN RPF is a different fandom than SPN, so any SPN RPF fanworks would have to be crossovers--meaning the fanworks must *also *be SPN related. E.G., a Cockles coffeeshop AU wouldn't be eligible, but a Cockles AU where they're interacting with the Ghostfacers would. RPF other than SPN RPF is also allowed under the same mechanism--as a crossover.

Are there restrictions on content?

Other than it must be cracky and SPN related, nah.

There must be something you don't allow.

The limits will be 1. the laws of the area in which you reside (e.g. don't do crime. or at least don't get caught about it.) and 2. the ToS of any services you use to host your fanwork: e.g., Tumblr won't host sexually explicit images, YouTube will scan for copyrighted material, and AO3 does not allow commercial promotion.

No, I mean, do you allow content that is... problematic.

Yes.

Surely you jest.

No.

But what about the panopticon? What about being seen at the witch's sacrament?

Look, fandom isn't a workplace or a church picnic. It's a subculture for freaks.

When posting fanwork, your responsibility is to provide metadata--e.g., tag and warn for potentially upsetting content--so people can curate their own experiences.

When engaging with your pitcher or catcher, your responsibility is to honor the restrictions stated during claims, and use care when bringing up subjects which they may not have explicitly listed but that are commonly considered to be upsetting. In this house we respect hard and soft limits. Informed consent is king (gn.)

Other than that, go wild! It's a crack event. Self-censorship is gonna make the fanworks sad and boring and we don't want that.

[pliablehead]

helllooooo i want to hear about your dream ee + duncles co-headline gig. venue, songs, general gig-vibes, go wild i want to hear your Wildest Dreams (to get ahead of the inevitable joke it is assumed that someone will come out and kiss holding the gay flag you don't need to factor that in)

(thank you for the parenthetical that’s very helpful) OHHHH i saw this come in and just said aloud “oh that’s a very nice thing to say….” truly thank you <3

my immediate first thought head empty for venue was the mercury lounge in NYC, which is perhaps a little ‘too small’ for EE even in the states but would be the exact right size for duncles, which then sort of lends itself to the notion of like, it’s a duncles show and Surprise EE Is Here Too Hehe which then says to me that the audience will have sort of self-selected as duncles fans and hardcores, which would be an incredible vibe. the bar at mercury lounge is like the venue lobby, it’s GREAT for shooting the shit and actually talking and not having to be In the performance space proper to do it. love it. but more realistically an ee-in-the-states sized venue, which is kind of the size gig I like the best anyway. a jeremy pritchard Patron Saint Of Dogshit Venues ass venue. (ideally 21+ and independent/NOT livenation fuckasses.) they could be at the one ee played at in my hometown last year that’s like On My Street Basically and i sure as fuck would not complain about that

it’s also important that me and ALL the homies are there. at the front. and that we eat empanadas down the block beforehand.

duncles live sets that i’ve seen online are almost always really spot-on and good setlist wise but obviously obviouslYYYYY they have to play bellio or i cry. INCLUDING doing the backup vocals u cannot skimp on me. duncles on first i think. ootitw-heavy. the duncan puppet is there and it’s probably jon doing it. dutch uncles also need to cover hold me dancin’ by margo guryan. ee can participate in this as well if they want actually so maybe they can all do it together at the end.

in my heart then EE goes on second and they have a full hefty set with plenty of rdf and mountainhead tracks (pizza boy is non negotiable) AS WELL AS blast doors, which is one of my favorites that they have done live a ton since i started following them but NEVER at gigs I’ve been at. also supernormal. they need new stage outfits that are 4% more swaggy, which like, if that wanted to be a return to the gth tabard look i would not be mad about it. also jonathan gives me the AFD orange trenchcoat because it’s maybe a little too small for him now and it’s okay jon i will give it the best home it could ever have forever. i’m in the very front and he puts the mic directly on me for some classic singalong bits here and there. huge no reptiles encore Church moment. we all go to the bar and get beers or white claws afterward. robin’s hair is pink again.

i’ll probably have a million other fantasies about this going a million other different ways at any other point in time but these are the constants and the things it makes me happy to think about. im really going Thru it right now (as are we all i fear) so thank u

[69constellationsinatrenchcoat]

Welcome to 69 Otters in a Trenchcoat.. better known as the Constellation Collective

Alter Intros

Ash (they/them):🌿

Amber (she/they): 🔥

Kyle (he/him): 💜

Lillia (she/her):🪻

Kaden (he/they): 🐚

Wild (they/he/she):🗡️

Our system is studying to become a psychologist. We're formally diagnosed with ADHD, ASD, PSTD and DID, along with endometriosis (very likely adenomyosis) chronic pain, chronic fatigue, hEDS and POTS

What to expect

A lot of dissociative experiences posting; fun things and not, trigger warnings will be used where applicable

Writing and musings

Philosophy

Bookish things (including fan fiction), fandoms below

Half polished thoughts (and sometimes not even that)

Disabilities

Psychology content

Enneagram & MBTI

Poetry

A unhinged amount of s3x jokes, dunno, depends on who's posting. **nsfw content will be tagged mature.

Art

Disney & cartoons

If that sounds like a piece of you, feel free to hang around <3

Notes (DNI)

"Endogenic systems" aren't supported here, however we are open to questioning systems :) Psychologically, systems cannot be formed without trauma. If you are experiencing amnesia, identity confusion etc, it is best to speak with a psychologist or another mental health professional.

Systems under 15, unless diagnosed, please don't interact... Look, this is an odd one, but your personality doesn't finish developing until you're in your mid 20s. I don't want to be the reason some preteen gets dragged into labelling what's perfectly normal development as DID/OSDD.

Homophobia, transphobia, hate speech etc, on our blog will be cause for an instant block.

"Transautistics" (autistic trans people are welcome, I am referring to the b-llshit that is transitioning from allistic to autistic; I am not wasting my breath explaining why that is impossible).

For our piece of mind: under 16s, please do not follow.

Fandoms

'Fandom' is being used as a very loose term, some of these don't have active fan bases.

Shows and Movies (including some book adaptations)

Anne with an E

Arcane: League of Legends

Blues Clues

Bluey

Disney & Pixar

Divergent

Heartstopper

Inside Out

Monsters Inc

Narnia

Percy Jackson

Spongebob

The Hunger Games

The Owl House

Veggietales

Books (an incredibly small selection of our favs)

Alice Oseman: Heartstopper series & surrounding universe

Ana Huang: Twisted series

CS Lewis: The Chronicles of Narnia Series

Erin Hunter: Warrior Cats Series

Francesca Zappia: Eliza and her Monsters

George Orwell: Nineteen Eighty-Four

Jacqueline Wilson: Baby Love & Love Frankie

Jasper Fforde: Shades of Grey series (Shades of Grey & Red Side Story)

Laura Greenwood: Apprentice of Anubis series

Lucy Maud Montgomery: Anne of Green Gables series

Michael Morpurgo: Kaspar the Prince of Cats/Kaspar the Titanic Cat

Rick Riordan: Kane Chronicles Series & Percy Jackson

Roald Dahl: everything he has ever written

She-who-must-not-be-named: Harry Potter (we do not support J. K. Rowling's views on transgender rights)

Suzanne Collins: The Hunger Games series

Veronica Roth: Divergent Series

Yasmin Rahman: All The Things We Never Said

Video Games

The Legend of Zelda (botw & totk mostly)

Minecraft

Pokémon

Cattails & Cattails; Wildwood Story

Disney Dreamlight Valley

MCTY: HermitCraft

Musios

AViVA

Beth Crowley

Chxlortte

Icon for Hire

Nathan Wagner

Taylor Swift

UNSECRET

[gnigniwardrobe]

Veronique Branquinho: F/W04 Twin Peaks Collection.

Graduating from the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Antwerp in 1995, Veronique Branquinho is a fashion designer who often flies under the radar when compared to the attention other historic Antwerp designers such as Raf Simons and Martin Margiela receive. Since retired as a designer as of 2017, her aesthetic as a designer for both womenswear and menswear could be described as a blend of casual and formalwear with a specific focus on the contemporary styles of Europe in the late 90s/early 2000s. Known for her toned down color palette, and elegant tailoring, Veronique Branquinho was adored by many at the time who desired her reserved takes on both men's and womenswear basics.

Usually unassociated with being conceptual in her collections, for her Fall/Winter 2004 menswear show she defied this and recreated the world of David Lynch's experimental crime series, Twin Peaks. The show's presentation took place in a recreation of a setting synonymous with the show called "The Red Room". Models in the show were dressed in attire similar to the styles and aesthetics of the characters in Twin Peaks, the way the models were presented reflected specific scenes from the series. Sherpa jackets, plaid patterns and chunky sweaters referenced the clothes seen worn by the residents in the small logging town which the series takes place.

Veronique Branquinho, a designer who emerged the same time and from the same place as many of fashion's historic figures, is not one who should be overlooked when analyzing late 90s/early 2000's fashion. Veronique Branquinho not only provided runways with tasteful and alluring classic designs, she proved herself as a designer who was also capable of designing complete conceptual collections that conveyed a captivating story to an audience.

source: @archivepdf on instagram

Being invited by Pitti Immagine was the perfect opportunity for Veronique Branquinho to do a first live presentation. Veronique Branquinho looks upon men’s fashion as a selection of indispensable evergreens worn by realistic man, rather than focusing on idols, muses or remote stars. Due to her subtle approach to menswear, Veronique has always been reluctant to do a classical catwalk setting, the Teatro Goldoni enables her to stage an alternative event which presents the collection to it’s full potential. The performance is not shown by professional models, but “real life” men. Together with choreographer Sam Louwyck, she created a scene, set in an alienating atmosphere, inspired by the “red room” from David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, with its typical zig-zag floor and red curtains. For Autumn-Winter ’04-’05 she shows brown tuxedos, tuxedos refined by subtle detailing such as contrasting collars in burgundy or brown satin. Moreover she combines these details in perfect harmony with more casual garments: turtleneck jerseys worn under ceremonial shirts with pleated inserts, cumberbands, foulards, ceremonial trimmings on sweatersleeves. Furthermore she hints at the world of hunters and lumberjacks, using recognisable materials and designs: sharp cut coats in traditional loden with a boxpleat at the rear, waxed cotton trenchcoats, parkas finished with a fake fur trim at the hood and duffelcoats with red sheppard lining. Checks are predominantly present through the collection: the same red sheppard pattern reoccurs blown up and handknitted in shetland jumpers, in jackets with sheepskin lining and biaiscut details and in wide lumberjack shorts with similar biaiscut details and pleats at the rear. The concept is emphasized by layering the different checks and knotting both shirts and pullovers around the waist, pants are tucked into the boots.

source: Scott on a random blog from 2004

[penumbraphantasm]

I really want to know more about Mr. Incognito since they aren't that much talked about like Bruno. Like why are they in the tower (suppose they're hired by the noise to watch her and that's why they always run away?) Plus who's the person in the trenchcoat. Take as long as you want to answer this

you can still probably guess who mr incognito is from one pose and some of the items. it both is and isn't who you think it is.

i think its fun when theres a bit of mystery left to things. part of me wants to tell about whoever's incognito and why but also part of me wants to keep it a secret, even though i'm not planning to actualize my ideas like, ever.

so i'll put the long answer under a read more and you decide if you wanna know lol

ITS THE NOISE!!!!

but also maybe not the noise we know. it's the other noise.

it was a rough idea but pretty much, this one is from an alt file where crumbling tower wasn't the victory lap it was supposed to be. noisette didnt make it out and theo noise didn't take it well. he feels regret abt not letting her know how much he cared abt her and treasuring their time together more. sad! anyways stuff happened and he's found his way into the file you play.

his default colors would be reminiscent of missing source textures and have noisette's pink but those parts could also change to match whatever color/pattern she's wearing. internal file names for sprites would be like spr_player (noisette replacing peppino, otherwise it'd be playerB for 🐇 lol), spr_playerN (noise) and spr_playerO (other noise, O is after N). the title screen would show 3 tvs but the last one is broken and inaccessible, leaving you with only 2 save slots.

The O. Noise, taking inspiration from ol' Noisette, disguises himself as Mr. N to the cognitO and tries to make sure this noisette will be fine on her adventure without messing with things too much. he'd lack access to his usual gear and maybe utilize scrapped stuff like the demolition button and grappling hook to help noisette clear obstacles in certain sections.

after you clear a file the first time, theo noise would disappear and you'd be sent back to the title screen and see the 3rd tv's been restored like nothing happened. if you select it, you'd then be able to play through the tower as noise (like kirby's meta knightmare time attack style)

ridiculous ambitious idea. unfitting for funny pizza game. also feels like noise overload, theres already so fucking many variations of this dude lol. did not pursue this any further but now you know if you read on ooouuugghh

(also im sure noisette, peshino, snick, etc came out of the tower just fine in the actual game. all those enemies in the credits made it out after all lol)

[notasapleasure]

A belated birthday present for @r0b0tb0y in gratitude for his encouragement of all things Brasso/Brassian/Joplin Sibtain. I hope you enjoy this! Riffing on the idea of Brasso’s fear of flying, but it’s really just a bundle of loose headcanons wrapped in a trenchcoat pretending to have plot :’)

I’m picturing 2008-era Diego (Sólo Quiero Caminar) and 2003-era Joplin (hair and all. See the Grease Monkeys recap I’ll post immanently that’s been haunting my imagination).

Escape velocity

Cassian is working his way through the crowds at Cavo's. Squeezing those skinny hips between tight-packed tables and dropping a friendly hand on the shoulders of those sitting at them. He smiles, he makes small talk, he buys drinks for a select few marks from the serving droid as it passes. He's coming this way.

Brasso chews his lip and contemplates his own cup of fortified ale. He acts like he's unaware of Cass's approach, like he doesn't expect at least one of the off-worlders Cass has brushed past to exclaim suddenly about their missing credits. Like he's never seen Cass schmooze his way through the bar for advances on his schemes before.

Cassian sidles up to him and leans his elbows next to Brasso's on the bar. He eyes him and his smirk grows, and he shakes his head as Brasso resolutely keeps his eyes on his drink.

"I'm not lending you any money..." Brasso tells him, raising the cup.

Cass looks pleased. Brasso can tell, even from the corner of his eye. He orders two more drinks and slides one over.

"I don't want you to," Cassian says cryptically, and takes a mouthful of his own drink.

Brasso looks at him, maintaining a stony, neutral expression in case anyone in the bar is looking to see who Cass is conspiring with now. "Oh? Come to whisk me away on a holiday for two with all your earnings, then?"

Cass snorts and runs his thumb and forefinger over the wispy moustache he's been growing. He's trying to appear less baby-faced, but Brasso can still see the softness of his cheeks beneath the thin cover. "Sure, actually," Cassian cocks an eyebrow and meets Brasso's skepticism with a look that would turn most knees liquid.  "That's just what it is."

Brasso's eyes narrow. There's no way he's going to rush into a trap like that, no matter how prettily Cass has arranged it. He finishes his drink and studies the one Cass bought him, taking it in his hand but not lifting it to his mouth.

"It's gonna be great," Cass sidles along the bar, touching their elbows together and leaning in as though he's sharing a secret. So much for Brasso's hopes of not looking conspiratorial. "Just you and me. A short break to the seaside. A bit of exercise on the beach. And we'll be back for the first ringing-in of the work week."

Brasso has to take a drink to give himself time to parse this. Cass smiles, like his doing so has sealed the deal.

"What?" Brasso concedes the question, turning to Cass and meeting his keenly assessing expression.

Cass can smile in a way where his lips convey one emotion while his eyes say something totally different. Usually, people receive a smile that looks genuine, but that masks a hardness in his gaze; Brasso, however, is more accustomed to this one, where a sharp, almost cruel smile is accompanied by warmth and respect nestled deep in Cass's eyes.

"I need your help," Cass says candidly. "I had to jettison my last cargo - Corpo fly-by."

Brasso sighs and closes his eyes. He doesn't like hearing about the near-misses, and there seems to be all too many of them these days.

"It's fine, they were never going to catch me with it," Cassian clucks defensively at Brasso's response. "But I need that gear."

A short break to the seaside. The beach. Brasso manages not to rub his palm over his face in exasperation, but only because he has a near-full cup of ale to drink. He takes a large mouthful and hisses through gritted teeth, "Please tell me it's this side of the sea, Cass?"

"Yes!" Cassian is still on the defensive. "Yeah, of course. It's just... it's a little way along the coast..."

"You said we'd be back before the week started -"

"Yeah, Brasso, I'm not talking about taking a speeder to haul this stuff," Cass says urgently. "I can get the ship off Pegla again, we don't need to - Brasso. Brasso look at me, we won't even be leaving atmo -"

Brasso's shaking his head and Cass is gripping his arm, repeating his name, repeating that he wouldn't ask if he didn't need to...

"Cass no. No. Ask someone else," Brasso rubs his forehead. He doesn't fly. Cass knows he doesn't fly.

"I need you, this stuff is heavy, Brasso," Cass insists.

"How did you get it on board in the first place?"

"Droids, how do you think?"

"Ask Vetch, Cass."

"No, I need you," Cass is right up in his space now as Brasso tries to turn away from his appeals. "I need someone I can trust, Brasso."

---

He can't believe that line worked. On the following night, Brasso stands by the gap in the fencing round Zorby’s shiplot and looks up at the hulks inside, feeling an icy chasm open up where his insides are meant to be.

Cass has squeezed through the gap already and he shrugs impatiently, his arms wide. "Well?"

"I can't believe that line worked," Brasso murmurs out loud. "What are we doing?"

"I come in this way all the time," Cass gestures to the jagged cuts in the wire fence.

"You said you'd okayed it with Pegla!" Brasso seethes, his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and his cap pulled low - as if most Ferrixians wouldn't recognise him by silhouette alone.

Cass looks confused by Brasso's objection. "I said I could get a ship. Come on!"

He reaches out with a gloved hand and pulls the fencing back, and Brasso goes through, shaking his head at Cass. There are always going to be things Cass doesn't mention. He should know that by now. He should pay attention to the wording.

He follows Cass with a reluctant, loping stride, feeling sick to his stomach as they pass by the enormous bodies of the ships docked there. Brasso could turn to any one of them and tell you what needs to be stabilised and removed before the hull is dissected, where to aim the laser cutter for maximum efficiency, which parts of the structure contain the densest thickets of wiring. He couldn't tell you how they're meant to get off the kriffing ground and stay off it - how they stay sealed against the heat of passing through atmosphere and sealed against the cold of space beyond it. They're so easy to dismantle, such frail, fallible things - he's trained to look at a star ship and see its flaws, so climbing into one and putting his life at its mercy doesn't come naturally.

Cassian is different. There's a spring in his step as he approaches his chosen steed. He smiles up at the ship with none of the complexity he reserves for the lifeforms he interacts with and he runs his fingers almost lovingly along the Beskar to the panel that will drop the landing ramp.

"Oh, no..." Brasso curses and stands back to watch the ramp descend. He can see the scorch marks on the hull from old journeys. He can see how often - and by how many different tools - that control panel has been popped out of its housing and tinkered with.

"Come on," Cass repeats, one foot on the ramp.

Brasso grimaces. "I really don't think I can, Cass. Is this the best Pegla's got?"

"She doesn't look like much, but she's reliable," Cass says. He pats the ship's belly. "And we're only going a few hundred klicks, remember? We're staying in atmo. It'll be an hour or so, that's all."

"I still think you could've asked Vetch," Brasso looks over the body of the ship again and repeats the words of a Ferrixian ballad in his head like a prayer. He knows he's not going to back out on Cass, not now, but making his body accede to that truth takes a moment of focus. His knees feel stiff and his boots feel heavy, but he persuades himself to walk up the ramp after Cass and into the hold of the little ship.

Cassian grins fleetingly at him and slaps his shoulder. "I'm closing the exit now, go on, go and sit..."

Brasso chooses to stay and watch Cass secure the hatch, to follow every movement of his fingers over the console and hear every piece of steel lock into place. Then he follows Cass to the cockpit and sprawls dejectedly in the co-pilot's seat.

The ground is really a long way down already. He's not afraid of heights, but it gives him a sense of the ship's size again, how unwieldy it must be for one person to manage, while simultaneously being so small that a team of grapplers could gut it in half a day.

"Buckle up, but don't be sick on the console, Brasso - we won't have time to clean that up and Pegla will feed you to his hounds." Cass is initiating the ship's start-up and Brasso follows the instruction to buckle up with unthinking obedience - all his concentration is on controlling the nausea that is fighting to fill his body up.

But then he has to speak, when Cass seems ready to go and he notices something: "The landing lights, Cass - you need to put the lights on."

Cass's eyes flicker over him, a momentary distraction from the processual pleasure of a familiar task. "We're trying to be subtle, remember, Brasso? I don't need lights for take-off."

Brasso swears again and closes his eyes. He grips the arms of the seat and breathes in deep, irregular gulps, trying to wrestle back enough composure to breathe through his nose instead. The ship comes to life with a whole orchestra of noise: whirring and clicking and humming and buzzing. At first, Brasso tries to identify the sounds of all the things the ship needs in order to operate, but then, when he realises he can't unravel it all, he gives up and returns to his breathing.

Cass's take-off is so smooth, so steady, that it's only when Brasso cracks his eyes open that he realises they're fifty feet up in the air and he feels his stomach plummet. He lets out a long, shaky breath and squeezes his eyes shut again.

He doesn't move until he hears Cass's voice, gentle and quiet. "We're away from the city. I'm keeping us low, we're flying towards the dawn, and there's no cloud-cover. It's a pretty good view, Brasso."

Brasso swallows and tests the depths of his nausea. He can probably manage this, right? Keeping his eyes so tightly clenched is starting to be uncomfortable.

Stiffly, he squints out of the front port.

Oh no - the ground is moving far too quickly. The sky is full of colours - beautiful colours - but there's such a sensation of wrongness in travelling towards the dawn rather than letting it come to you. "Bugger that," Brasso says hoarsely and turns his head to the side, eyes shut again.

After a moment, Cass speaks. "Sorry, Brasso. I forgot it was this bad for you. You going to be ok?"

The sound of genuine apology in Cass's tone rallies him, strangely, more than anything else could have.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm fine," Brasso says thinly, not opening his eyes.

Cass shows him the respect of granting him a snort of laughter. "Oh, my mistake. It's just that you're pale as a Bith and I think you've permanently altered the shape of the foam in those arm rests."

One of Cass's hands covers Brasso's and squeezes, and Brasso forces out a tight laugh of his own. It takes him a moment, but then he realises Cass is trying to pry his fingers away from the surface of the arm rest. He's able to relax his hold enough for Cass to do so, and feels Cass's palm find his, offering a tight grip for Brasso to reciprocate.

It's nice, for a little while, actually helpful. Then a thought occurs to him - "Don't you need two hands to fly?"

Brasso turns to Cass, eyes wide, heart hammering so hard he'd be amazed if Cass couldn't hear it.

He sees that Cass really does look sorry, and it gives Brasso another jolt of motivational adrenaline - Cassian has nothing to be sorry about.

"We can cruise this part, the computer will alert me when I need to go manual again," Cass explains.

Brasso's next question relies on looking outside. He tightens his hold on Cass's hand and slowly lets his gaze travel to the front of the ship. They're flying through a lavender twilight, where earth and sky fade together into an indefinable blur. It's only on the console in front of them that Brasso can confirm the topography of the area - now they're above the desert and there are no mountains for miles around. There's nothing for them to unwittingly crash into. Just the ground, his treacherous mind notes.

His throat is dry and closes up on speech, but Cass sees him looking at the console.

"You know what all this stuff is, yeah?" Cass scooches forwards in his seat, gestures at the screens with his free hand.

Brasso blinks at the lights and the switches, the visualisation of planes and angles in glowing lines on the screens. He tries to concentrate, for Cass's sake.

"Uh," he frees his right hand from the other arm rest and wipes the sheen of sweat from his clammy forehead. The switches go in the barrel for plasteel recycling. The screens need to be taken out in one piece - if they're cracked, they go in the barrel for plexiglass. They're all labelled, but the abbreviated terms squeezed on between the controls are abstract, and the aurebesh is faded from use in many places. Still, Brasso scans the panel until he has something to answer with. He points with his free hand: "Altimeter. And that's the throttle. This is....oh, Sithspit...we're doing a thousand klicks an hour..."

Cass squeezes his hand, and it reminds Brasso that his grip must be turning Cass's fingers numb. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax.

"You're right - and we'll only be doing this over the desert. The quicker we get there the quicker we get back, yeah?" Cass stares at him until he nods acknowledgement, and then he starts to point out other parts of the control panel, speaking in a chatty tone that gets under Brasso's skin and pushes all the other noise coming from the ship away into the background. Cass knows his stuff, and it's impossible not to be touched by his enthusiasm as he explains the point of every switch and dial.

As they near the mountains by the coast of the Farside Sea, Cass puts the controls on manual again and slows them down. Brasso's able to follow his hands across the console and understand what he's doing, and as their speed reduces by a few hundred klicks per hour, Brasso can even glance up at the landscape without wincing. They've met the dawn, and the sun is orange over black, choppy waters of the ocean. It paints the mineral rich land in the colours of Ferrix's streets: reds and ochres and mossy greens and yellows.

Cass takes them on a winding course down towards the shoreline and then asks Brasso to fish a transponder out of his coat pocket as he pilots. It should take them to the location of Cassian's lost cargo, but Brasso doesn't like the way Cass keeps trying to look at the transponder screen and pilot at the same time.

"Cass! Cass, you wanted someone you can trust, well trust me - I'll tell you what it says! Just - please, keep your eyes on the front port..."

"I'm not going to crash into anything Brasso, I told you about the proximity warning, yeah? And I need some idea of where we're going so I can find a place to land..."

At least bickering over this keeps Brasso's mind focussed. His directions are better than Cass wants to give him credit for - and Cass's flying is steadier than Brasso wants to admit. They hug the coastline, flying low over rocky strands and outcrops until both of them spot it at once and yell in triumph: a collection of small plasteel crates scattered like the eggs of some giant beast on the sand of a crescent shaped cove.

Cassian slaps his shoulder and his fingers squeeze tight over Brasso's collarbone.

"Hands, Cass!" Brasso yelps. "Both hands - on the controls..."

Cassian laughs and pinches Brasso's cheek for good measure before returning his hand to the console. Brasso shakes his head and notes the way his pulse has spiked - probably just from fear at Cass's antics, of course. He looks down at the cove hungrily and can't wait to be able to set foot on solid land again.

--

The cold sea breeze quickly dries the sweat in Brasso's black hair. He's left his cap and his coat on the co-pilot's seat and he relishes the feeling of the wind beating his thin cotton sleeves against his arms. The noise out here is all organic - waves roaring, not thrusters - and it seems to wash away the last vestiges of grubby panic that clung to him.

The crates aren't huge, but he admits that Cass would have struggled on his own. Brasso hauls them across the fine red sand to the ship's ramp, and then he and Cass lift them together into the hold.

"Don't you want to know what's inside?" Cass asks, a dangerous twinkle in his eye as they stack the first box of a second layer on top of the others.

"Nope," Brasso tells him shortly, giving Cass the most non-plussed look he can.

It annoys Cass, as it's meant to. "Come on, you're not curious?"

"I don't wanna hear it, Cass," Brasso turns to go back down the ramp.

"You think you wouldn't be implicated anyway for helping me retrieve these?" Cass trots down after him.

"Implicated? I'm just helping a friend move his gear..." Of course, every time Cass is getting ready for some new scheme, Brasso does ask him where he's going and why. But Cass never tells him - so it's only fair that Brasso makes him commit to his secrets at a time like this.

In return, Cass insists on helping him get the next crate back to the ship - and it's about the most unhelpful thing he can do. With just one person dragging the crate by one handle, it glides fairly easily through the soft wet sand, but with Cass pushing it as well it keeps stopping, the corners ploughing uneven furrows that their progress catches on.

"Cass!" Brasso says in exasperation. "Go and get another one, or wait up at the ship again. I've got this."

Cass glowers at the crate, his hands on his hips. The wind ruffles his hair into wild shapes and his jacket flaps around his skinny body. "I think we're short some," he says uneasily.

Brasso pauses before hauling again, looking up at Cass. "If they're not on this beach they're lost, Cass."

Cassian nods and swears, but it doesn't seem to be a nod of acceptance. He turns and frowns at the arc of the shoreline and mutters something about the transponder before heading back to the ship.

As Brasso drags the remaining crates to the foot of the ramp, Cass strides up and down the cove with the transponder, cursing and chewing on his fingernails. Brasso has to call him back to help lift the crates inside, and then he's expecting to steel himself for another flight - but Cass looks at him with that expression that's part apology, part plea, and Brasso knows they're not done yet.

"Cass, we're not dredging the sea..." Brasso sighs.

Cassian shakes his head and beckons for Brasso to follow him outside again.

"Look," he leans close and points at the far side of the cove. "There's a cave there. I think that's where the last ones are."

He's brought the macrobinoculars and peers through them. "I swear I can see one, look Brasso..."

Brasso accepts the binoculars with a sigh and takes a look. There is something that might be white plasteel there, but then again it might be sea foam caught on the rocks.

"I need to get them all back. I can't lose this, Brasso, the money from this job is already locked up..."

He doesn't need to beg, Brasso's already walking, and Cass catches up after a couple of paces with a nervous laugh. "Thanks. You still swim, right?"

"Better than I fly," Brasso rolls his eyes. He likes swimming, actually. There aren't many opportunities for it in the town, but his family used to take a sandspeeder out to the coast for the designated holiday weeks. "How about you? You remember how?" he glances down at Cass.

Cassian is cold, his hands tucked in his armpits and his arms wrapped tight around his body. He lets a breath hiss out from between his teeth and chuckles. "I remember."

"Ok," Brasso stops when they're at the far side of the cove, slips his sleeveless vest off and hands it to Cass. "You wait here. I'll go and check it."

Cass clutches the warm fabric to his body. "I'll come too - then we can start bringing them back if they're there."

Brasso shakes his head and pulls his shirt off. It takes more than this for him to feel the cold, but Cass is shivering just watching him. "Don't worry about it, Cass. If they're still sealed they'll float - if they're not, then even the two of us won't be able to get them back."

He takes off his boots and trousers and raises a brow at Cass, who's watching him with an unreadable, intense expression. Stripped to his underwear, he offers a brave laugh and turns towards the restless waters.

"Brasso!"

He's waded in up to his thighs and the temperature of the water is cold in such a different way to the cold of the air. It's not unpleasant - it brings a flush of heat to the surface of Brasso's body, though he knows that won't last. He turns back to Cass, squinting past the hair that's blown into his eyes.

"Don't do anything stupid, ok? The sea looks rough," Cass is still clutching Brasso's clothes to his body, standing on the edge of the water and watching Brasso intently.

"I won't do anything you wouldn't do," Brasso calls back.

Cass swears, and it's carried away by the wind. "That's what I mean, you moof-milker!"

Brasso laughs and wades out further, letting out a gasp as he launches himself into the water. The waves are big, but Brasso's comfortable in them, striking out towards the rocks. It's a battle, but with enough concentration he can navigate the currents and pick his way over to the cave. He manages to get to its rocky mouth without anything more than a graze or two and pulls himself up onto the skerry. Cass is pacing on the shore, so he waves reassurance and makes a gesture to affirm that the crates are there. There's three of them, scattered across the jagged floor of the cave, and Brasso winces as he picks his way over the sharp rocks to the nearest one. He checks it all over for damage and gives it an experimental tug by one handle. There's no sound of seawater sloshing inside it, and it doesn't seem heavier than the others were. Still, moving it over this surface is going to be more of a challenge, and Brasso briefly regrets his confidence in coming out here alone. But he wants to prove his use after the meltdown he had on the flight, wants to be worthy of the trust Cass puts in him. So he digs his toes into a patch of gravel and heaves, and the crate lurches willingly towards him, only narrowly missing his feet as it thuds down from its perch.

He swears triumphantly and takes a step back, finding another place to get purchase before he tugs again. Step by step, foot by foot, he manoeuvres the crate to the edge of the water and sits down on the rock with a sigh. No chance of getting cold with that kind of exertion. And this is meant to be his rest day.

He looks up expecting to see Cass on the shore, and blinks when there's no one there, his heart sharpening with panic, beating against his breastbone. Then he spots him, his long arms forging a path through the waves as he makes his way towards Brasso.

"For Force's sake, Cass," Brasso yells down at the sea as Cassian splashes determinedly towards him. "I've got this."

Cass raises his head and reaches out to secure himself on the rocks. "I couldn't see you. It was taking a while," he hauls himself out, hair and underpants dripping with seawater, and pulls the weighted fabric back up as it threatens to slide off his skinny arse.

Brasso gestures. "It's not the easiest ground. There's two more. I was going to get them over here and then float them back."

Cass nods. "They're intact?"

"Seem to be."

He's shivering, miserable as a drowned mynock, and Brasso shakes his head. "Get out of here, I'll do this."

"You need some cable," Cass says between chattering teeth. "It'll make dragging them easier, and you can lash them together so you only need one trip back."

Brasso says nothing - it would make things easier. Cass's skin is puckering in the wind, to the extent that it's making Brasso cold just watching him. Cass goes to take a step over the rocks towards the crates, like he wants to check for damage himself, but wobbles on the uneven footing, and throws out an arm that Brasso catches hold of.

"How about you go to the ship for the cable," he tells Cass firmly. "I'll do what I can here without it, and you be as quick as possible. Don't stand around in this air catching hypothermia - you think I'm going to be able to fly us back?"

Cass looks at Brasso's brown hand on his arm and his lashes flutter as he shivers. Brasso thinks, for a minute, he's going to have to argue with him, but then Cass nods.

"All right. If you can't get the others just wait for me, yeah?"

"Go," Brasso turns him by the shoulders, feeling Cass's marble-cold skin under his hands. He can't quite resist the impulse to give a protective, warming squeeze before he releases him, and feels a glow in his chest at Cass's furtive, grateful smirk.

While Cass is fetching the cable, Brasso does manage to get the other crates to a more accessible position, through sheer stubbornness and force of will. It leaves his muscles feeling stretched and used like he's spent a day unravelling kilometres of wiring from inside a freighter, but that's just part of the satisfaction of getting things done.

He waits for Cass to return, dangling his scraped feet in the seawater and contemplating the view across the cove. He admits to himself that he's enjoying all this, despite the flight there and the imminent return journey. It's a nice spot. He wonders how long it would take to get here on a speeder - then again, his family wouldn't change their holidays on a whim when they have a perfectly good beach they've been visiting for generations. There's only one person Brasso would come here with, and he's currently arranging a coil of cable across his body, preparing to swim out to the cave again.

"How are you not freezing out here?" Cass sputters when he swims up to Brasso's legs and grabs an ankle for purchase.

Brasso shrugs. "I don't feel it, it's fine. Natural born Ferrixian, you see?"

Cass snorts. "It's all that coolant you drink at Cavo's," he mutters, squirming out of the coil of cable he's wearing like a bandolier and passing it up to Brasso.

"Nog is good for you, I keep telling you, Cass," Brasso takes the cable and offers a hand to help Cass up onto the skerry again.

They secure the three crates together end to end and push them into the sea. There's a moment where the first one bobs beneath the surface and Brasso thinks it's just going to keep sinking, but then it pops back up and they both let out a sigh of relief. One all three are afloat, Cass takes a running jump and splashes back into the water by them.

He gestures to Brasso to do the same and, laughing, Brasso takes his own leap and plunges like a knife, feet first into the sea.

The exertion of getting the crates back to land and then dragging them up the shore to the ship is enough to keep him from cooling down, but as before, Cass is shivering pathetically by the time they've got the last of the cargo on board. Brasso grabs his own coat and approaches Cass from behind, wrapping it around Cass's shoulders as he tackles him a bear hug.

Cass yelps in mock objection. "Let go, what are you doing?" He laughs and wriggles, so Brasso tightens his hold.

"Nope - not until you stop shivering." He's taller and stronger and his arms are long enough to keep a wiry off-worlder in his place. Besides, Cass isn't fighting that hard - now it's more like he's squirming to dry himself off on the lining of Brasso's coat.

Brasso exclaims in disgust when Cass whips his face with the wet hair at the back of his head, but he doesn't let go. Cass tries standing on his toes, so Brasso lifts him off the floor of the ship a little and Cass swears breathlessly, laughingly.

"All right, all right!"

"What, you don't like flying?" Brasso cackles back, dropping Cass and giving him a shove so he takes a couple of steps away.

Cass grips the damp coat around himself and turns to Brasso with more colour in his cheeks than he's had all day and a smirk that could gut a fish it's so sharp. "Oh, you want to go there? Remember I'm flying us back, I could take us up into high atmo, we could make orbit, go out into the system..."

Brasso's hands are planted on his hips, and he represses a shudder at that. "You wouldn't..."

Cass just twitches his brows and gives Brasso a look to leave him questioning, and then goes to raise the ramp and seal the hatch.

Brasso tries to pay as much attention to the sounds of it locking as he did before, but there's a significant part of his mind that's elsewhere now, unable to focus on the details in the same way. He shakes his head at Cass, at himself, and goes to find his clothes.

-

With the heating inside the ship on it doesn't take long for them both to dry out properly. Brasso doesn't take his seat in the cockpit with quite as much trepidation as before, but that's largely because he's exhausted. He watches Cass cycle through the start-up with miserable inevitability and folds his arms across his chest, leaning back into his seat like his distance from the console will give him extra distance from what's about to happen.

Cass starts the engines but doesn't activate the thrusters. He frowns at the screen, though Brasso can see nothing wrong with it. It makes him uneasy.

"What's up?"

Cass pulls a face and shrugs one shoulder before looking away from the console. "I was just thinking..."

Brasso gives him a withering look. "Dangerous."

Cassian's patchy moustache twitches and he narrows his eyes. "You've never left atmo?"

Brasso draws a deep, steadying breath and his arms tighten across his chest. "Cass..."

"Never?"

"No, never. And I don't have a problem with that."

Cassian chews the inside of his lip. He doesn't look convinced, and frowns at the console rather than taking on Brasso's glare. "You'd go your whole life, never seeing that..."

"I don't need to see it!" Brasso insists.

"How do you know, when you've never seen it?" Cass responds quickly, the eagerness in his voice saying he thinks he's made a winning point.

Brasso closes his eyes and sighs. "It doesn't matter how stunning it is Cass, if I feel like emptying my guts all over the ship it's not going to be a memory to cherish, is it?"

Cass tilts his chin, conceding something. But he's not given up entirely - once he's got his mind set on something he's as focussed as Pegla's hounds when they sense a rat. "Do you trust me?" he asks, entirely unfairly in Brasso's opinion.

The answer is yes, of course. Unequivocally. Always, even when he knows he absolutely shouldn't. That's the difference between Brasso and Cass's other friends: even without all the information, even without the context or the background, Brasso trusts Cass. Maybe that can't last, Brasso reflects sadly. If Cass corners him into agreeing to this, maybe it'll be the last time he can trust him so completely.

"Brasso?"

"Yeah."

"You trust me?"

"I said yes, Cass," Brasso repeats, looking back at Cass and letting some ferocity into his voice.

Cassian studies him, perhaps weighing up the same costs Brasso's been contemplating.

"You trust me to fly this thing?"

Brasso frowns. "I trust you - the ship is a different matter."

"But I'm flying the ship," Cass says crisply. "Do you trust me to know what this ship can handle, and to know what it can't?"

Brasso presses his lips together tightly and looks Cass in the eyes. "Right. I guess so, then." He's been outmanoeuvred, as he guessed he would be.

"I want you to see this. You're not going to come up in a ship with anyone else, are you?"

"Seems unlikely."

"So let me show you - next time you're back at the yard and you're taking one of these things apart, maybe you'll think about where it's been? What it's for."

"You want to tell me about the wonders of space travel?" Brasso says drily, though Cass's tone holds a genuine excitement and awe that it's hard to be cynical about.

"Sure," Cass gives him a crooked smile. "I'd never have found out about it if Maarva and Clem hadn't kidnapped me."

"They adopted you..." Brasso is taken aback.

Cassian raises his brows and shrugs, activating the thrusters. "Call it what you want. But I'm kidnapping you," he smiles and turns to the controls, and Brasso feels his stomach sink again as they leave gravity behind in a swirl of red sand.

Cass's take-off is as steady as his gaze on the console. His hands rove across the controls with unhurried fluency, like he's speaking a language with them that Brasso doesn't understand.

He finds himself compelled to watch each movement, following Cass's gestures and finding an unexpected calm coming from it. The juddering and roaring of the ship still sets his teeth on edge, and he has no interest in looking at the landscape he was quite content being in a little while earlier. But he finds he's not engulfed by it like he was on the flight out, not when he focusses on the competence with which Cassian navigates the controls.

The number on the altimeter goes up, and Brasso swallows as he feels the ship spiral in a loop over the mountaintops.

"We'll take it nice and slow," Cass says.

Brasso checks the speed on the screen for good measure and unfolds his arms to grip the seat as he did earlier. "Well I might not have done this before, but I know we can't go too slow if we're leaving atmo," he summons as much sarcasm as he can from the pit of nausea within him.

Cass laughs, the sound sparks with delight, and he cranks the throttle forwards steadily. "Good point, thanks for that, Brasso..."

Brasso gulps down another wave of horror at the way the numbers on the screen are racing now, but the nose of the ship is pointing up, he's being squeezed back in his seat, and there's nothing left outside to blur sickeningly with speed: it's just blue sky, as delicate as an eggshell.

The ship's engines sound confident - there's no screech or whine of exertion as Cass works the throttle, and Brasso lets his eyes drift from the blue outside to Cass's face.

He's wholly absorbed by what he's doing, immersed in the pleasure of flying. His lips are a little parted, moving with silent words of encouragement to himself, to the ship. His eyes are keen and bright and there's a flush of colour high in his cheeks. It deepens when he notices Brasso watching him, and a dimple marks the cheek nearest to Brasso as he smirks self-effacingly. "See? I'm not worried. You don't need to be worried," Cass says.

Brasso just pulls a face, but he feels his own skin darken with heat at being caught out staring.

To show off, Cass tells Brasso what trajectory he expects the navicomp to give them for leaving Ferrix's atmosphere, and he gives a triumphant laugh when the numbers come up right.

"Ok, just sit back and enjoy this, Brasso," he tells him, leaning forwards eagerly over the console, like he's the one straining against gravity, not the ship.

"It's a light show, but the port's shielded and it adjusts automatically. It's not gonna blind you, so keep your eyes open," Cass gives him one last meaningful glance and then flicks a switch to give them the thrust needed to push through the upper atmosphere.

Brasso intends to do as he says, but finds he can't take his eyes off Cass in the end. The 'light show' is reflected in his face, which is drawn in ethereal levels of contrast. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hungry, and again Brasso thinks of the way the ship itself has to challenge the laws of nature in order to escape the planet, but it only does so because Cass demands it - it's only hurtling through fire and vacuum at his behest.

The colours on Cassian's face begin to fade out from the harsh fluorescents of singed minerals, and the soft glow of Morlani's light takes their place. Cass has arranged their passage into orbit just so that they face into the sun, and he beams with pride and pleasure when the noise levels reduce and the thrusters go off and they settle into a silent, weightless place between Ferrix and the stars.

Brasso lets out a breath he'd forgotten he was holding and hazards a glance at the galaxy.

"What did you think?" Cass asks.

Brasso looks out at all the stars and represses the urge to shudder. He closes his eyes and rubs a clammy hand over his face, but he nods for Cass.

"Yeah, it really was something."

Behind his eyelids it's Cass's face, lit up by the burning atmosphere, that he sees.

"Told you..." Cass can't resist saying. He glances mischievously at Brasso. "And you didn't feel like throwing up your guts too much, I hope?"

Brasso gives him a sideways look, and then the tension inside him that's built from all the pent-up nerves bursts all of a sudden and he lets out a laugh. He feels light-headed, maybe hysterical, but he doesn't feel like throwing up. He feels like a fool for even thinking the trust he puts in Cass would be shattered by something like this, but he shakes his head, still laughing, and looks over at his kidnapper.

"Let's not speak too soon - going back in is going to be worse, isn't it?"

"Oh..." Cass affects a worried expression. "I totally forgot about that."

"Sithspit..." Brasso leans his head back against the headrest and rubs his face with both hands. He's smiling, but thinking about re-entry really does remind him of his terror.

"It'll be ok, Brasso, I promise," Cass says assuredly. "You can close your eyes, or look at - I don't know, look at me, you'll know if you need to worry about anything then, because I'll be worrying."

This time, Brasso's laugh is weak, like he's been found out for cheating on a test. But Cass is concentrating on the new trajectory and only glances up to say with a smile: "Say goodbye to space! One last look..."

"I'll see it again when it's night-time," Brasso grumbles, wincing at the view of his homeworld below them, powdered blue by the haze of its atmosphere, curving away beyond the port.

"Might be cloudy," Cass shakes his head. Grins. "Ready?"

Brasso just casts him a pleading look, and Cassian reaches out to give his hand a squeeze.

It's easier, on re-entry, to just close his eyes. Cass's expression is severe with concentration going back in - it's less an act of reverence and rebellion and more the inevitable consequence of the former. Brasso leans back in the seat and feels the ship's body rattle with exertion, and he sinks into the cushions and imagines himself a part of it, shaken to his bones but not coming apart, driven to survive this because Cass has asked it of him.

Cass whoops when the ship settles into the planet's atmosphere again. He tells Brasso when they're on an even keel, but warns him he's going to see the town zoom by as they circle over it, and Brasso chooses to keep his eyes shut.

They land a little way out of town and unload the crates at one of Cass's hideaways.

"I'll take the ship back to Zorby's later," Cass says. Returning it during daylight is only going to raise questions he'd rather not answer.

They walk back to Ferrix together and by the time Brasso's alone in his place, arranging his seawater-wet coat to dry in the sonic, his legs don't feel hollow and numb any longer. His muscles remember the effort of dragging crates of contraband alone the beach, of swimming against strong currents. When he closes his eyes he doesn't remember the stars or the proximity of Morlani, filling the port with its light. It's Cass, lost in the work of piloting them, lost in his own awe at the galaxy, that Brasso won’t forget from today.