#well they aren’t; like. tiny tiny. they’re about the size of a human; maybe a little smaller?

[x-pair-o-dice-x]

Anything that you want to ramble about..?? :]

Have a cookie 🍪 :D

thanks for the cookie!!

and uhh- not really? i work best at talking when i have a specific topic to focus on,,, plus i haven’t really thought about anything g/t in a while,, dkdndkndkd. i’ve suddenly forgotten everything i’ve ever done.

uhhhhhh. i like, drawing. creachurs.

(designs for an au i’ve been rotating in my mind since november last year? i’ve talked, like. very briefly about it in the discord. don’t think i’ll ever do anything with it,, i’ve already got a lot of fics on my list to get through, and i don’t have the time to commit to making a multi-chap fic rn.)

[sttoru]

Omg could we see reader getting jealous of Sukuna having sec with his other concubines? And maybe liek the other concubine rubs it in readers face?

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. angst (no comfort), suggestive \\ smut aspects. size difference. one tiny mention of reader being a crybaby. reader gets called ‘little one, brat’ \\ kuna’s an asshole! not proofread, excuse the grammar. no part 2. wc: 3.3k

you’ve been away from the estate for three days; three days too long for the king of curses. so much had happened while you were away to take some well deserved rest—a small vacation that sukuna had granted you because you needed it.

perhaps that was his first mistake. giving you permission to leave his side ended up being a bad decision. he hates that faint feeling in his chest, the feeling of missing something.

missing someone.

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

but of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face. she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses—the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame. she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it was a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare. both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists. you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out. sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm. there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material. he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh. you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation. you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru. he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips. he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence. you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room. your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle. “fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

[nasa]

Roman's primary structure hangs from cables as it moves into the big clean room at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center.

What Makes the Clean Room So Clean?

When you picture NASA’s most important creations, you probably think of a satellite, telescope, or maybe a rover. But what about the room they’re made in? Believe it or not, the room itself where these instruments are put together—a clean room—is pretty special. 

A clean room is a space that protects technology from contamination. This is especially important when sending very sensitive items into space that even small particles could interfere with.

There are two main categories of contamination that we have to keep away from our instruments. The first is particulate contamination, like dust. The second is molecular contamination, which is more like oil or grease. Both types affect a telescope’s image quality, as well as the time it takes to capture imagery. Having too many particles on our instruments is like looking through a dirty window. A clean room makes for clean science!

Two technicians clean the floor of Goddard’s big clean room.

Our Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland has the largest clean room of its kind in the world. It’s as tall as an eight-story building and as wide as two basketball courts.

Goddard’s clean room has fewer than 3,000 micron-size particles per cubic meter of air. If you lined up all those tiny particles, they’d be no longer than a sesame seed. If those particles were the size of 16-inch (0.4-meter) inflatable beach balls, we’d find only 3,000 spread throughout the whole body of Mount Everest!

A clean room technician observes a sample under a microscope.

The clean room keeps out particles larger than five microns across, just seven percent of the width of an average human hair. It does this via special filters that remove around 99.97% of particles 0.3 microns and larger from incoming air. Six fans the size of school buses spin to keep air flowing and pressurize the room. Since the pressure inside is higher, the clean air keeps unclean air out when doors open.

A technician analyzes a sample under ultraviolet light.

In addition, anyone who enters must wear a “bunny suit” to keep their body particles away from the machinery. A bunny suit covers most of the person inside. Sometimes scientists have trouble recognizing each other while in the suits, but they do get to know each other’s mannerisms very well.

This illustration depicts the anatomy of a bunny suit, which covers clean room technicians from head to toe to protect sensitive technology.

The bunny suit is only the beginning: before putting it on, team members undergo a preparation routine involving a hairnet and an air shower. Fun fact – you’re not allowed to wear products like perfume, lotion, or deodorant. Even odors can transfer easily!

Six of Goddard’s clean room technicians (left to right: Daniel DaCosta, Jill Bender, Anne Martino, Leon Bailey, Frank D’Annunzio, and Josh Thomas).

It takes a lot of specialists to run Goddard’s clean room. There are 10 people on the Contamination Control Technician Team, 30 people on the Clean Room Engineering Team to cover all Goddard missions, and another 10 people on the Facilities Team to monitor the clean room itself. They check on its temperature, humidity, and particle counts.

A technician rinses critical hardware with isopropyl alcohol and separates the particulate and isopropyl alcohol to leave the particles on a membrane for microscopic analysis.

Besides the standard mopping and vacuuming, the team uses tools such as isopropyl alcohol, acetone, wipes, swabs, white light, and ultraviolet light. Plus, they have a particle monitor that uses a laser to measure air particle count and size.

The team keeping the clean room spotless plays an integral role in the success of NASA’s missions. So, the next time you have to clean your bedroom, consider yourself lucky that the stakes aren’t so high!

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[madockisser]

Hello! I was browsing through your dain and greenbriar sisters’ analysis- very insightful!! I enjoy your takes, and I was hoping to maybe get your thoughts about balekin as well? Tysm! :) 🌸

balekin greenbriar analysis spoilers for tcp trilogy and novella!

hi! thank you sm!! i really appreciate that ppl actually read and enjoy my character analysis dump!!

and yes, balekin has a lot of page time, so this also will be a really long one!

ok so, minor details first; balekin, first born, cardan says that balekin grows bored easily, he is very unseelie, he is the leader of the circle of grackles, those who enjoy drugs and debauch, he does not care for mortals and captures sprites and uses them as lights until they die (terrible), he views mortals as mice “they die before they gain any cunning”(not exact quote but in htkoelths). madoc also seemingly owes him a favor!

let’s start in chronological order (since i tend to spew out all my knowledge at once and get super disorganized !)

first things first, the prologue of tcp. madoc says “i doubted balekin when he said i would find you here.”

there it is people!

madoc probably (most likely, seeing as it’s the faerie way to pay each other back, especially w something so important as madocs family, i’d wager that madoc owed him a LOT.) owed balekin a favor for finding eva and madocs daughter alive and well! how balekin did this? i assume through asha, or spies. or simply faerie rumors, since it’s said that justin bragged abt stealing the generals wife

“but maybe balekin was just being nice!”

good one! balekin is a royal asshole(literally) and he takes advantage of every little opportunity he gets! i will go more into detail about that a few paragraphs down!

so we can assume that maybe that’s why (apart from the whole dain and oak thing, and madoc hating the greenbriars(but balekin doesn’t know that yet!) madoc backs balekin, or why balekin thinks that madoc is going to back him!

this analysis features a short story (Lament of Lutie Loo, by holly black,of which you can probably find online, and if not, it is in the last book of the modern faerie tale series, ironside! there is also a cardan cameo!)

okay so we first see him at hollow hall, he’s kidnapped lutie, who is a sprite(teeny tiny faerie, like tinker bell size) and locks her in a cage bc balekin knows that she works for lord roiben.

balekin full intends to hold lutie and roibens sister (who was also there! and the reason lutie was at balekins house) hostage until balekin can force roibens hand into going with him to see eldred, so that roiben can be all like

“hey high king, ik i’m sorta your enemy rn since i haven’t sworn to you, but if you make balekin king (and only balekin) i’ll swear to him! 👅👅”

this would get balekin eldreds favor and obviously the political advantage. as the story goes on dain somehow gets the upper hand and roiben and dain fool balekin. (while the details aren’t important here i do recommend you read the story! though reading modern faerie tales first is better obv since there are spoilers for that series!)

while balekin isn’t very smart/he assumes the worst in people(i’ll get into it paragraphs down), he still views humans and those beneath him as something he can take advantage of. he uses humans at his house as slaves, cooks and cleaners, gatherers and messengers. he captures sprites and locks them in lanterns until the light that radiates off their bodies is gone, and they’re dead.

what i’m trying to say is, he takes advantage of the world around him. he does this consistently throughout the series. nonstop even.

in htkoelths, he takes advantage of cardan, picks him up out of the stable and takes him home. then he immediately beats him. this is his way of “showing dominance” (that was cringe to type out but it’s true)

it makes me wonder if maybe he is taking his anger toward dain out on cardan. makes me wonder if balekin wishes he took dain in to take advantage of, to groom into being his little prince, rather than of course, the only person standing between him and the throne.

anyway, after he beats cardan, he drugs him up, takes him to orgies (?!), shows him how to get high and get drunk and stuff (really awful of him)

and ofc he’s like “i do it bc i love u!” and who knows maybe he wanted to spend some brother to brother bonding debauch time w him (🤮)

though i definitely think that he was manipulating cardan. keeping him high and drunk so that he could keep cardan from 1, becoming maybe a political problem, in the sense that maybe he didn’t want cardan to become like dain and want to be king.

2, so he could keep cardan from gaining some sense of self worth and leaving balekin without a good little prince of whom has nicasias favor.

3, that he got cardan addicted to never/nevermore (golden powder drug first seen in “the modern faerie tales!”) and to wine, to the point he cannot go without it without severe withdrawal. (this is a possibility, especially since we see never withdrawal in “valiant” a part of the modern faerie tales series, BUT perhaps not, since cardan doesn’t seem completely high all the time mostly in jude’s perspective, but who knows, maybe he grew accustomed to it and became a functioning never addict.)

anyway, it’s worth mentioning that during the tournament, jude looks up to the stand, and madoc and balekin are gone. because balekin is taking advantage of the fact that madoc owes him. so they’re probably scheming together about the whole coronation thing.

now, as for the middleish of tcp. jude’s in his house, there’s faeries just laying around, and jude sneaks into his office. then there’s the infamous “i know the provenance of blusher mushroom 🥸!”) very mysterious. anyway, balekin comes in, beats cardan again, but he’s like “i’m doing this bc i love our family”

which is interesting, since he ends up slaughtering or trying to slaughter all of them! and it leads me to deduct that either he’s got this twisted view that even if he kills them all and becomes king, that they would be better off, OR that he doesn’t love the members of their family, just the greenbriar lineage!

anyway, later on jude spirals and wants to save veiny dainy (valid babe! at this point he’s looking pretty scrumptious to the reader) and she finds that balekin had dains love poem to liri, (there goes that chance ig!) but thinks nothing of it.

which is strange, since he had such damning evidence against his greatest opp, dain the vain, he doesn’t use it against him. there could be a number of reasons for that. 1. he thinks eldreds too far gone in making dain the king, and also distrusting balekin, 2 he wasn’t intending to use this evidence against dain, maybe he stumbled upon it when maybe he had spies looking into madoc, (since we know that madoc found out abt dain being oaks daddy somehow) or even oriana (a bit of a stretch but i’m grasping at straws trying to understand why he didn’t expose dain for screwing w eldreds lady and then knocking her up, and then killing her and that little mistake dain put in her womb!) or simply 3, he didn’t piece it all out yet. (seems most likely)

anyway looking past oakeys existence, balekin slaughters the fam, and disregards eldred on the dais, (bringing me up to why he didn’t tell eldred of dains affairs, bc he thinks he’s too old and feeble to do shit abt it) and then runs good old daddy thru.

THEN, we see him again at hollow hall, at balekins soon to be coronation, and he misjudges cardan. like a lot. which i’ll get into a few paragraphs down. but pretty much he shields cardans body with his, which says a lot.

jude says that she misunderstood the complexity of their relationship. but i just think that balekin wants to use cardan for getting the crown since he’s the only one left who can do so. and maybe since he doesn’t understand that cardan has betrayed him already, he still cares for him atleast a little.

now onto twk.

when he was in the tower of forgetting, he took advantage of the guards(making them slap jude), of the undersea messengers(sends missives to orlagh to get himself free), and of his own title and status as eldest prince(managing to get himself rugs and tea and finery even in his cell)

when he was in the undersea, he was prisoner, but still managed to get orlagh to make him ambassador, which i’m sure was simply just orlaghs doing and part of her plan bc she doesn’t strike me as the type to be manipulated by a faerie prince that is way younger than she is (if i remember correctly).

his downfall however, is that he is so narcissistic, he believes himself to be the very best, and he believes the very worst in people, (he assumes cardan despises mortals despite the fact cardan has taken beatings for them and freed them from his estate, and he believes that lutie will go unnoticed by lord roiben and that roiben won’t care much for her enough to save her or fault balekin for capturing her. he also underestimates jude, her ability to lie and deceive, and so when she tricks him with the poison, he doesn’t expect it.)

ALSO, despite him being so manipulative, manipulating cardan, blackmailing whoever sent him that letter abt poison, and manipulating the circle of grackles into being his own loyal unseelie court within the high court, of whom are high constantly and very violent, he does seem to get screwed over/ manipulated a lot doesn’t he? by madoc, by dain (more than once lol) by even cardan his alcoholic little brother of whom he mostly raised (no wonder he started crashing out at the end) and by orlagh and jude. and just so many of these are the product of his narcissism. he truly expected madoc to be down for him despite madoc having human daughters and a human wife, all while actively enslaving humans ?? like hello?? silly as hell tbh!

now, as for balekin kissing jude, i have speculated on this before, but i have more thoughts.

balekin always believed dain to be his greatest obstacle in front of him and the throne, but then it became cardan. obviously he didn’t expect this, so he sought to take advantage of cardan in the only way he knows and can, through jude. bc that’s what he does. obviously he “glamours” her and makes her do his bidding, but there’s more to it.

i obviously assume that balekin is aware that cardan cares for jude at this point, ( if u haven’t already i posted a theory abt it which u might wanna see) and at first he mistook cardan making jude’s seneschal as cardans doing, assuming that jude was head over heels for cardan and cardan being the one with the power in their little king-seneschal relationship.

but then he sees how cardan is negotiating w orlagh and balekin to get jude back, so bro kisses her. maybe to understand, but probably to manipulate jude into wanting to submit to balekin rather than cardan. since balekin sees jude as this airhead human girl who’s willing to do much for cardan, he assumes he can make her do the same with him. especially now that he’s glamoured her, and the fact that it would give him something over cardan in the process is just a bonus.

anyway, i’ve sorta lost the plot here ( i am sorry there was just so much to analyze abt him) BUT as for how he was as a person, he seemed manipulative, narcissistic, very unseelie, and arrogant. he expected so much to be handed to him. he expected cardan to free him, to relinquish the throne to him, even after his abuse.

so maybe balekin is just so cruel that he didn’t see how his abusing cardan truly affected cardan, since he was so dead set on calling it “love” and since he wanted to make cardan “better.”

but i doubt it. balekin is consistently dumb, in the arrogant and narcissistic sense, expecting everyone to be just as morally awful as he is.

there isn’t any sympathy from me, i don’t like him, despite loving morally grey characters. he’s too stupid to like, and he assaulted jude and enslaved so many humans.

but feel free to add on! or lmk if i missed something! send me more asks as well, though i am working on an eldred/taniot/ val moren one rn which i’m almost finished with!! 🫶

[ivory--raven]

Day 19. Dagon has a good day. There is an eel. Michael appears to fishermen.

Dagon’s in an ocean somewhere. It doesn’t particularly matter where, and she isn’t sure, she’d just chosen somewhere and found them: humans. Human fishermen. They’ll regret coming out today. She’s menacing them, taking the form of a horrible creature and vanishing into the waves every time they look around. They can’t catch any fish, and she’s filling them with a horrible sense of unease, and they’re not sure why.

Dagon cackles.

Then there’s light and that annoying sound angels make when they want to be grand and glorious. “Killjoys,” Dagon mutters, hiding under the water again.

There is only one angel and it’s her. It’s Michael. She’s stunning. Dagon watches, transfixed, drawn to her like prey to a deep sea anglerfish’s lure. Not prey. She thinks about fusing, letting her carry her everywhere. She could live like that. Maybe, she thinks, she understands why anglerfish do it, for a reason other than they were designed that way.

But no. She won’t. She can’t, anyway. They aren’t anglerfish. Michael is an angel, Dagon is a demon. Having spoken before doesn’t mean anything.

Michael speaks to the fishermen, and they are stunned and awed, as well they should be, puny mortals getting to look at her. They don’t deserve to keep their eyes after this. They don’t deserve to keep their heads attached to their shoulders. Michael lets them go, sends them off, and they are fine.

“Come out,” Michael says then.

Dagon, now less a horrible creature, pokes her head above the surface. Her shiny blue-green-silver scales flash in the angelic light above the murky water. Now she’s not keeping them away fish appear, nuzzling at her hands. They trust her. Nobody trusts her.

“You,” says Michael.

“Hello again,” says Dagon.

“I should smite you,” says Michael, and summons a spear. “Leave the humans alone.”

Dagon makes a show of looking around and seeing no humans, the fishermen having left very quickly with Michael’s help. “Is that a new spear? It looks nice.”

Michael falters. “It - it is.”

Dagon hasn’t been smitten yet. “Aren’t you going to thank me?” she teases. “For the compliment?”

“Demons don’t compliment angels,” Michael says.

“Of course not,” says Dagon. “Silly me. I’m terribly sorry, O Archangel Michael, Defender, knower of demons-”

“Did you-”

“I looked you up,” Dagon says. “Knew I recognised you.”

Michael looks briefly proud, then not, as if remembering her company. “You have a lot of fish there with you.”

“I do,” says Dagon, and looking around her Michael is right. She is utterly surrounded by fish of all sizes, tiny ones to big ones, even a few Porbeagle sharks, bluefin tuna, and a basking shark. They crowd around her, brushing against her. It’s a wonder they aren’t eating each other. She kisses a smaller Porbeagle shark on the snout. “Lovely things, aren’t they?”

“I’d never thought about it,” Michael admits.

Dagon spins in the water. “Come on down then, say hello. Unless you’re too high and mighty for the wonders of Creation?”

Michael shifts, then hovers down to skim the surface. She’s been challenged. Dagon grins at her.

“Here, look. This little guy’s an anchovy.” Dagon holds him up, safely encapsulated in a bubble of saltwater, and he sits complacent in her hands.

Michael inspects him like she’s never seen a fish before. Maybe the Archangel Michael really is too important to bother with ordinary fish. “Very shiny scales. I like that.”

He does shine. He’s blue and green and silver and his stripe is gorgeous. She tells him so, releases him back to the sea, where he nips around her elbows. He’s happy. She’s made him happy. She’s smiling at him when she remembers Michael. “So. You’ve never seen a fish before or…”

“I’ve seen fish before. I hadn’t looked.” Michael locks eyes with Dagon. “I have now.”

Then she disappears. Dagon has made the Archangel Michael look at a fish. What an achievement, she thinks, rolling her eyes. Nothing commendation-worthy.

An eel nudges against her, and she runs a finger along its side, sharing warmth. “Hello, you,” she tells it. Satan help her, she’s smiling again.

[depressed-sock]

A Glitch for you, A Glitch for me (3811 words) by depressed-sock Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Crack, Humor, Hijinks & Shenanigans, B1 droid makes friends with clone troopers, accidentally becomes adopted, Mention of torture, Enemies to Friends, it/its pronouns ...

B1-6610 knows it’s got a glitch in it’s system. It’s why B1-6610 has plans. Plans to find a nice abandoned moon or planet with nothing else on it so B1-6610 can live its short life without dying to blaster fire. Or being stabbed. Or crushed. Or worse. Don’t ask how it can get worse it’s seen worse. It doesn’t like worse.

But anyway it has a glitch. Which can be the only explanation as to why it’s so fascinated by the clones that are being held prisoner in the base that B1-6610 is stationed at. It knows it shouldn’t but it stops by at least once every few hours just to walk by their cell.

They’re so different then what they look like covered in armor. All of them have that same squishy organic face but unlike the droids, there are actual differences. There’s one that has short curly hair a shade of vivid green with hair growing on its face. Then another that has no hair at all and instead has some kind of floral marking covering the right side of its face. The other three aren’t as varied but one’s hair is a darker shade than the others, while another has a shade of eye color that’s more orange than the dark brown that the rest have.

They’re all so different then what B1-6610 expected. It’s not sure why exactly it had thought they would be like it and the other B1 droids. Exact copies whose only difference is the nicks they’ve gotten in battle.

But they are.

And it wants so badly to just ask about it.

It has a plan for that too because if it’s going to be leaving anyway it might as well satisfy its curiosity, right? It’s not like B1-6610 will ever get a chance like this again because wherever B1-6610 is going it’s going to be void of organics.

So B1-6610 knows that the prisoners haven’t been fed in the last few days. Apparently, it’s some kind of interrogation technique because organics need to eat. And since B1-6610 is leaving and planning to escape in the next few days that means it can get away with things like giving the prisoners food. Maybe slip in a question or two while doing that.

It won’t even be suspicious because B1-6610 hacked into the cameras. No one will ever know what it’s done except for the prisoners! And who's going to believe them when they say a driod disobeyed its direct orders? No one! Because only a glitched and broken droid would do that and to everyone else’s knowledge there’s no such droid here!

B1-6610 is amazingly smart and nothing will ever go wrong with this plan.

…

When it arrives at the cell at the same time it’s arrived every day since the clones got here none of them look at it. Going about their hushed conversation which is mostly just scathing remarks about the droids and Separatists holding them captive. B1-6610 can’t really blame them for that, it would also be in a bad mood too if it was forced to stay in one tiny room all the time. (Yes it knows it can compact into a much smaller size, but that doesn’t mean B1-6610 enjoys it.)

It stands at the door, holding a tray of food. Part of its processor says it should have looked up how much organics actually need to eat but it’d been worried about getting caught in the cafeteria. It’s at least pretty sure that the clones can eat it because B1-6610 saw a human eating it. Making strange faces as they ate it but they didn’t keel over and die so B1-6610 thinks it’ll be fine.

There is one part of this plan that it realizes it didn’t think through. How to get the food to the clones without them trying to storm the door and breaking B1-6610. Because if this had been a normal food delivery there would have been other droids. Maybe even some B2 units to ensure no one tries to make any attempt at escape.

But B1-6610 is alone. Standing on the other side of the shield door thing…(Listen it wasn’t programmed to remember words it was programmed to shoot things don’t judge it.)

The clone with the marking looks up at B1-6610 as if it can sense B1-6610 just standing there. Hovering. The clone glares at it in that special way only organics can do.

“Uhh… Food?” It says as it fails to come up with a coherent sentence. Goodjob B1-6610! You sound like a complete doormat that they’ll all be to happy to walk over. Maybe it can just bluff them. “Step away from the door or the turrets will activate and shoot you.” They won’t. They short-circuited once and no one had bothered to fix them.

The clones murmur to each other backing up against the back wall. The one with the face marking crossing its arms, lips tilted up to make it look mean like one of those animals that wander just outside the base. The others raise their hands in a show of surrender, even though they look just as mean as the one with the face marking.

B1-6610 opens the shield door, quickly puts the tray inside, then retreats back and turns the shield back on. The clones look at the food but make no moves towards it as B1-6610 stands there staring at them.

It doesn’t really understand why they aren’t trying to eat. Organics need food and they haven’t had food in days, so their organic systems have to be telling them they need it. That’s how it works right?

Instead, they all just stare equally at B1-6610 and the food. B1-6610 wonders if maybe it’s lost the chance to ask any questions before it decides it might as well just try. It shifts, awkwardly (because according to some of the organics on base, all B1’s do this even if the B1’s don’t really understand what that means or how they’re doing it).

“Why do you have markings and the others don’t?”

The clone with markings furrows its brows while the others shoot their own confused looks toward the clone with markings. “You mean my tattoo?” It asks slowly.

“Ohhh, is that what a tattoo looks like?” It has no clue what a tattoo is and how or why organics would have them.

“It’s what my tattoo looks like.” It raises an eyebrow at B1-6610. B1-6610 forgets what that means on organics but it kinda feels like the clone thinks B1-6610 is stupid.

Which it isn’t because it plan worked! Take that clone you have no idea that B1-6610 succeded.

“Ok…Bye.” It turns and marches back down the hall. And if it starts humming happily, no one has to know the happy tune is coming from it.

…

B1-6610 arrives back a few hours later to pick up the tray and make sure no one else knows the clones got food from it. Afterall, there’s still a few days to go before it escapes, no need to make anyone suspicious.

So it arrives back at the door. The clones are still on the far side of the room but this time they’re huddled together. The food tray is still by the door and is completely untouched.

B1-6610 stares at the tray in confusion. “You didn’t eat?” It asks with a high-pitched question, not understanding why they wouldn’t. Their bodies need it right? They are organic right? Or are they really like B1-6610 and need a charging port instead?

B1-6610 is so confused.

The clone with green hair snorts, “We’re not interested in your poison Clanker.”

“But it’s not poison?” It tilts its head still not getting it. That one human from the cafeteria still hasn’t keeled over and died so it’s definitely something the clones can eat. If they eat. It swears it’s seen them eat when it had spied on their camps before. “It’s food. You eat food right?”

The clones give it an annoyed look and B1-6610 figures that this part of its plan has somehow failed. How’s it supposed to ask questions if it doesn’t have a reason to be here?

It groans in complaint, turns off the shields, and grabs the tray. B1-6610 will have to figure out something else. It turns and is about to take the tray out when its sensors pick up more B1’s and an organic lifesign making its way towards the cells. B1-6610 doesn’t exactly run but it exits in a hurry slams the shields back on and makes a hasty retreat around the corner where it ditches the tray in a potted plant.

No one will ever notice. It’s not like anyone but droids roam these floors anyway.

B1-6610 doesn’t hide, can’t really when the others can also tell it’s there. But it pretends to continue its rounds as it listens to the echoing voice as Organic General Whatshisface addresses the clones.

“Are you ready yet to give us the answers we need? Or should a few more days without food be enough to convince you?” The Organic General Whatshisface asks and B1-6610 can feel the building dread in its circuits. Uh oh.

There’s a moment of silence and B1-6610 gives in to the urge to hack into the camera just to see what’s going on.

The clones are looking at him with confusion before the one with markings scowls. “You’ll get nothing from us Separatists scum.”

The General sneers, “Maybe I’ll just take one of you to torture. For fun, of course, just so I can bring his dead body back for you to watch decay.”

The clones tense, Green hair and Markings stepping in front of the other three. Who B1-6610 guesses must be newer models. It’s something B1-6610 has observed in other clones. Though it doesn’t get why, aren’t the newer models supposed to be better than the older ones? Honestly trying to figure out organics and clones in general is turning out to be an exhausting endeavor.

“You know what? I think I will-”

B1-6610 enters the hall just as it sets off a remote perimeter alarm it had hacked about a week ago. Just because it could. “General! We’re picking up possible hostiles in the left quadrant!”

General Whatshisface sneers at B1-6610 then turns it on the clones, “We’ll have to continue this later.” He turns on his heel, most of the other B1’s following behind. B1-8893 stays behind and stares at B1-6610 until the General is out of hearing range.

B1-8893 sighs, “6610 why are you wandering again? You’re supposed to be on level three.” It shakes its head and pats B1-6610’s shoulder, “Is your memory unit glitching again? We can go ask Engineer Teili to take another look at it.”

“My memory unit is fine,” B1-6610 says in a complaining whine. “I’m not some old droid falling apart 8893.”

“Sure you’re not,” it pushes B1-6610 towards the hall leading to the stairs. Then slowly says, “Remember. Go. To. Level. Three. And. Patrol-”

B1-6610 smacks B1-8893’s head. “I know.”

Then it marches past the cell ignoring the clones staring out at it.

…

“…Oleander you’ve got the same number as a clanker.”

“Keep talking Verdant and I’ll make you regret even breathing the same air as me.”

…

It comes back the next day at the same time as before. This time though will be different because B1-6610 did some research! Turns out the clones do need food, but apparently most organics captured by an enemy force can become paranoid about eating anything given to them. Because people can poison the food. Which seems like a waste but who’s B1-6610 to question its superiors.

So a tray of food like the one B1-6610 was a no-go but a bunch of sealed ration bars should work fine! B1-6610 even got the supposedly good ones, though it has never seen a happy organic eat a ration bar. It’s still food! And it’s edible! And it would be hard to poison so B1-6610 can say with certainty that it is definitely not poisoned!

Also it came out of the mess hall rations so if it is poisoned they’ve all got bigger problems than the glitchy droid feeding the prisoners.

B1-6610 approaches the door and the clones all look back at with confusion.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to be down here clanker.” Markings scowls, eyeing the rations that B1-6610 is carrying. It had just grabbed an armful not caring how much it had just stolen, it may have gone a bit overboard.

“That was a differnt B1 unit?” It tries to lie but it comes out as more of a question. It was not built for this. The clones can tell because none of them seem impressed by B1-6610’s lies. “Please just step back from the door…”

They do. This time none of them hold up their hands and maybe that’s a bad sign but they let B1-6610 dump the rations on the floor and exit without trying anything. The shield hums back to life as Markings steps forward, picks up a ration bar, and examines the packaging.

“Why are you doing this?” Markings asks with narrowed eyes that makes B1-6610 shift in place.

“Uh… Orders?” It lies again before quickly asking, “Why is that one’s hair green?”

That startles a laugh out of Green. “Because I dyed it?”

Oh. That actually makes sense. A lot more than B1-6610’s original theory that the clone was a weird variant of some sort. Doesn’t explain why it would choose green out of all the other colors out there. “Why green though?”

The plain-looking clone starts to laugh but ends up coughing into its fist instead, while Orange eyes doesn’t bother to hide its own. It slaps Green’s shoulder and says, “Even the clanker thinks it’s too much.”

Green makes some kind of face that must mean its displeased. “I like it.” B1-6610 doesn’t get it, but it guesses maybe it just wasn’t built to understand those kinds of things. Green glares back at B1-6610. “What would you have done then?”

“I don’t have hair?” It can’t dye what it doesn’t have after all.

Dark hair rolls its eyes and adds, “But you could add paint to your chassis right?”

“No? That’s against regulations?” And it’s programming but B1-6610’s programing doesn’t work right so it could totally get away with that if it didn’t have a bunch of others watching it. Maybe when it gets to that nice moon.

The clones all frown at it.

Green sits down on a bunk holding a hand out for Markings to set the ration bar in.”Ok. But if you could what would you pick?”

“Uhhh.. I don’t know?” B1-6610 let’s it’s processors spin a bit coming up with a bunch of different colors before narrowing those down to one. “I kinda like pink.” No one in the war uses pink. Not the clones and not the droids. Maybe some Jedi does but B1-6610 has never seen them.

It’s a safe color. No war tied to it. B1-6610 likes that about it.

The clones are all still staring at it and B1-6610 needs to leave before someone catches it down here again. “Uhh, make sure to hide the rations. Not because you’re not supposed to have them! But because uhhh... You just should. Yep just do that, I can’t come back today to clean up so you have too….Bye.” It turns and marches off.

…

“I want to adopt it.”

“Silver.”

“Oleander, we have too now. It keeps coming back specifically because it wants to ask us stupid questions. It’s law now that we have to adopt it. I don’t make the rules.”

“It doesn’t even like the color green.”

“Verdant you literally glow in the dark with that green it has a right to hate it as much as we do.”

“Oh fuck all of you.”

…

B1-6610 doesn’t return to the cell until a day before it’s planned escape. One last chance to ask whatever questions it wants without getting caught. It’s got more rations with it, though it’s not sure if the clones have eaten all the ones B1-6610 had given them before.

It doesn’t think they would have. It had seen something about hoarding food and cutting rations in its research into what organics and clones could eat. So they’ll save most of it to last until… well until General Whatshisface kills them.

That realization doesn’t exactly make B1-6610 sad but it can’t help but be maybe a little disappointed. The clones could have easily just ignored B1-6610 or even just said nasty things to it the entire time. Instead, they answered its questions, even though they were very confused by the questions.

So when B1-6610 gets to the door it expects to see all the clones. Except one is missing.

“Where’s the plain one?” It asks confused and the Clones don’t glare at it this time. They just look sad and exhausted. Oh…Oh no. “Where’s the plain one?!” It asks again but this time with more panic.

Markings winces, voice rough as it answers with a single word, “Gone.”

“Gone like they shot it or gone like they dragged it off?!”

“Gone like he got taken for torture.” Green answers, putting emphasis on the he.

B1-6610 didn’t realize they used organic pronouns… That’s something it’ll have to worry about later because the plain clone is going to die.

It’s supposed to escape tomorrow. It’s going to escape tomorrow. That won’t happen though if the clones escape now and put the base on red alert. But if the clones don’t escape… Oh no, no no no. It needs more time to figure out what to do.

It doesn’t have time to figure out what to do.

It drops the rations in front of the door. Hits the shield off and says, “Oh no… The uh door failed… and now there’s a way for the clones to leave… by going down this hall where no one is stationed… and escape through the door that no one watches…They should definitely not wait there until the plain clone gets there…Ok…Bye.” It turns and marches off and ignores the astonished stares.

It can’t worry about them right now because it needs to go find the plain clone before General Whatshisface kills him. It knows where the torture room is, even though B1-6610 has never gone there. It doesn’t like how gross it is because no one really bothers to clean the room. Which is completely disgusting. Do the organics not realize how gross that is?

Anyway it’s easy for B1-6610 to get there, all it had to do was follow the screams. Which isn’t helping B1-6610’s overheating processor.

It walks into the room and luckily it’s only the general and the plain clone. Who no longer looks plain and now looks very bloody. “Sir!” B1-6610 does not flinch when the General turns to look at it. Displearue clear on his face.

“What is it droid?”

“uhhh… There’s something you need to see immediately sir!”

The General scowls but B1-6610 stays insistent that something happened that requires the General’s attention. He clearly doesn’t want to leave. The clone is barely conscious and B1-6610 is starting to worry about that.

Then B1-6610 says the magic words, “Count Dooku wants to have a meeting with you sir.” That perks the General up.

“Well, what are you waiting for you filthy rustbucket, lead the way.” So B1-6610 faithfully leads the General to a room (that’s actually a closet) and pretends to trip. And, of so unfortunately, bumps the General into said closet and, so much worse, the door closes and locks. And oh look at that! All communications in this area have been blocked! How unfortunate that this has happened don’t worry General this B1 unit will get help.

The cursing and screaming from the closet actually makes this all worth it. It doesn’t matter if B1-6610 can’t escape tomorrow because it just locked General Whatshisface in a closet and nothing will ever be better than that. Except maybe plain clone not dying. It would very much like plain clone not to die in front of it.

B1-6610 gets back to the interrogation room, unlocking the straps holding the clone down. The clone sags forwards and B1-6610 almost topples over with him. “Why are you so heavy?” it complains which gets a huffed laugh in response.

Plain clone looks up at it, eyes not really focusing and B1-6610 hopes that’s not a bad sign. “You’re the droid from before? 6610?”

“Uh.. yeah?” it says in surprise. It hadn’t expected the clones to even remember it’s number.

“Oleander’s got the same number as you,” comes a dazed reply to a question B1-6610 hadn’t voiced.

“Which one’s that?”

“He’s got the big fucking tattoo on his face.”

“Ohhh, that one!” B1-6610 didn’t even know clones had names! It’s learning so much before it dies horribly! “Well, we need to go meet them so you can escape and not die here.”

“Ok.”

B1-6610 starts to drag the plain clone out into the hall. “Uhhh do you have a name too?”

“Dice. My twin is Slice.”

“Is that the clone with darker hair?”

Dice startles a little but keeps pushing forward with B1-6610 to help. “Yeah, no one else usually notices that their hair is darker.”

“Oh… I thought it was kind of obvious.” B1-6610 thinks it is in fact obvious but maybe they’ve got people on the Republic’s side who are like General Whatshisface. Who can’t tell any of the droids apart either. “Come on, were maybe almost there.”

“Maybe almost?” Dice chokes.

“I didn’t come with an in-built map of this place so I’m kinda just walking and hoping I’m right.”

Dice laughs again leaning a bit more on B1-6610 before muttering to himself, “Silver’s never letting you go.”

“What was that?”

“Oh nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

B1-6610 decides that it should very much worry about it.

…

B1-6610 sits in a stolen Separatist ship. It is in fact the one it had planned to steal tomorrow when its software got updated to include a piloting module. It doesn’t need that anymore because apparently, Green is a great flier. They were even able to leave before any alarms could sound in the base.

This is may not be a part of its original plan but everything is going great. Now it just needs to convince the clones to drop it off on the moon it choose and maybe to stop fighting over who’s now B1-6610’s parent.

It can’t have a parent. It’s a droid.

None of them listen to B1-6610’s arguments.

It has a sinking feeling it’s never going to see that moon.

…

B1-6610 does at least have a new coat of paint.

[radskull-69]

oc idea (inspired by oobbbear’s ‘orange knife’ au)

idk how but I only realised after writing this I also copied the sun and moon thing, I meant to only get inspired by the whole ‘soul put into doll thing’ I SWEAR)

A god called mister moon that creates life down on earth, it’s a long process to make each soul’s vessel using moon rocks annd skulking them before sending them to earth. They all look like tiny stars with glowing bodies, no faces in this phase since they can’t use the bodies yet

some stay with mister moon when they aren’t ready to be born yet, and some just like to hang around despite how much mister moon finds them annoying (lie)

mister moons friend, seamstress sun, is the one that makes the souls with small stars and glowing strings while mister moon just makes the physical body. She’s very sweet and motherly to them, joking a lot and not as stoic and cold as mister moon is and loves to visit the souls.

as soon as the souls and their bodies they’ll be using for the rest of their life are sent to earth they hold no memory of mister moon or seamstress sun, which does make the two sad but they like to watch over the souls on earth.

the earth and humans were assigned to them by the other planets to keep moon and sun busy and have a hobby (maybe even become friends), but now they’re kinda attached

there’s other characters but I’m too lazy to think about them for now, I have nanny nature but that’s it.

mister moon facts!

he’s very.. creepy, he doesn’t mean to be. But he just isn’t a very warm person

whenever a crater lands on him and ruins his clothes he calls seamstress to fix and tailor it for him, he acts like he hates it

he’s very tall and lanky (he’s the size of a building at least to us), but slouches a lot

he favours cats a lot and is happy when the souls are cat people as well

LOVE’S cool colours and the ocean, finds it amusing how little souls know about its depths and are scared of it. He favours the deep sea creatures the most

envies sun’s light and bright (ha) attitude, but loves appreciates it at the same time

his fav era of earth was the classical era

hates scissors, after a accident of one of the souls running around with a pair and cutting off their own arm Moon strictly keeps them banned from his domain

Seamstress sun facts!

she’s very social and loud, easily one of the more popular planets

geeks over whenever a soul draws a picture of the sun with sunglasses, laughs every time (much to Moon’s expense)

good friends with nanny nature, they have a good bond since nature mostly need sun to thrive. So nanny nature made sunflowers for her

normal hight and curvy, got them hips

keeps a lot of gold trinkets in her domain because she likes how they sparkle in her light

Loves the 70’s - 80’s the most!

gives all the souls a goofy name until their sent down to earth, still calls them that in her head tho

love’s dogs all the way, the bigger the better!

always tells moon jokes to cheer him up whenever he has a cloudy day, it works 50% of the time

wishes sunsets lasted longer because she loves the looks the souls give her when she’s at her prettiest, she tries to stall but moon drags her away from earth to let him have his night shift

fawns over humans who have matching sun & moon themed necklaces or bracelets and would show moon just to say ‘us’

[hauntedlibrarian2222]

Part 1.A

October 6th, ####

I work in a haunted library.

Take it as silly as you want to, but I’m telling you it’s haunted. Or, at the very least, extremely paranormal. I don’t even really think ‘haunted’ is a good word to describe it. I don’t know, and I don’t really care either. But it’s a running theme, here, with ‘running’ being a big part of it at the end of the day. It’s like Scooby Doo, but a lot more HD and a lot less pulling off masks to see they, too, are human at the end of the day. I don’t believe anything that walks through these doors is human, anymore.

I live up North, vaguely, in a tiny, crummy town, and in this town is my library. Keeping it vague, since, y’know,.. privacy, or something. When it comes to the library, through, I’m just about the only person who really runs it. It’s decently sized, but still kinda small— or maybe I’m just not used to libraries. Dunno. I’ve lived in this crummy town for the majority of my life, so maybe I’ve just got a bad scope. At the end of the day, it’s just a large space, and although it has a second floor— that’s cut off from the rest of the library due to some accident I don’t know about. Well, more so just taped off. Nothing really stops anyone, just.. no one wants to go up there. I ask them, sometimes, because even some rowdy kids will come in, and a lot have said it makes them feel cold? I dunno. I don’t feel that, maybe my nerves are finally dying off.

Not many people visit, leaving just me and the books for a majority of the day. Save for when someone, or something, does come in. Usually, stuff coming in sucks, but sometimes it doesn’t. I’ve grown very accustomed to most things that walk through the door, whether it be a group of kids from the school a few blocks away (they come on ‘field trips’ sometimes); just a person looking for a quiet space; or something on all fours with eyes bigger than they should be with an oddly humanoid shape; I’ve grown used to it. It freaked me out at first, don’t get me wrong— I’m sure most people would at least pause if they saw a person with a deer head walk in and, formally, request a book on a bear hibernation’s cycles— but I’m just not affected by it anymore. At some point, weird stuff blends in with the normal and just becomes a different genre of normal if you see it enough. Most things that walk through the doors aren’t hostile, anyways, so I just help them find what they want and help them leave. Or, I help them find a nice spot in the library, which actually feels.. kinda nice, sometimes. Most of them don’t care to try and hurt or intimidate me, surprisingly enough— going solely off of appearances and how most people would call them ‘monsterly’. But maybe that’s just because there isn’t much valuable here other than the books— nothing to rob, so why put in the effort? It makes me feel kinda nice, though, like if someone were to come after me— I’d at least have the back of a handful of odd creatures who really like their books. Like, really— really like their books.

With all of this, though, I’ve got a good few stories crammed up in my head— and I thought it’d be interesting to share them. Whether you believe they’re true or not, it’s still a story, it’s still entertainment at the end of the day, right? That’s the whole point of reading. Plus, it finally gives me a place to, uh,.. write it down. Journal it, store it, whatever. Who needs a therapist when you have a Tumblr blog, huh?

So, I work in a ‘haunted library’, and it’s given me more tales than the books on the shelves (that sounds insanely cheesy but my friend really wanted me to write it down, sorry). I hope you enjoy your read.

Previous | Next

[gt-ridel]

Borrower meets Submas AU? Let’s goooooo!

What if-

What if like...

Akari is a borrower, right? And so is the rest of Jubilife village.

But Instead of living in ancient Hisui, they live hidden in Gear Station.

She and Rei are orphans (maybe twins, too?) and because they had no one to look after them they were brought to the... whatever the Galaxy team is renamed as because it's already a thing in the future. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

They're being trained join the survey corps, who's job it is to go out and secretly observe and record data on the humans and pokemon who are employed in the battle subway. (wait, does that mean that they need to fill out their humidex? (╯▽╰ ;)  ) 

Fortunately, the station works on a tight schedule. The Subway masters see to that. But it's important to know if there will be any changes, or if anyone has noticed something awry, vis a vis tiny people running around.

Data is recorded in their log books and then reported back to headquarters. Then timetables and precautions are written up and given to the supply corps, who are the ones who do the actual borrowing for the community.

So one day, Rei and Akari are doing their job. It’s early in their career, but they’ve already been on one or two solo missions. They have met up after their shifts and are heading back to Jubilife together. 

It's late at night, so the station is quiet. Contrary to the general human experience, midnight and onward is the safest time for any borrower to be out in the subway proper. At first they're keeping their voices down as they catch up on the days events. But there's something about being out late with a close friend in a vaguely spooky place that really brings out the giggles in a kid. (Especially if they’re tired). 

The two end up goofing around. Maybe mimicking behavior they've observed from the Subway Bosses. Using train metaphors and striking poses and such. Even though Akari and Rei aren’t assigned to them personally (Akari watches the gift counter and Rei checks on the office staff) it’s hard to miss the two most intimidating humans in the whole station. They have presence. 

What the tiny siblings don't realize while they play around, is that there is a curious Joltik nearby. It recognizes the tones and behavior of the two nice humans being shown by these (much more sensibly sized) creatures, and it comes over to make friends! Maybe they will give it a battery!

Unfortunately, borrowers in this Jubilife village are just as terrified of pokemon as the people in PLA, so Rei and Akari assume it's going to attack them and freak out!

They start running for their lives, pursued by a (comparatively) giant bug type with a poor grasp of social cues.

Meanwhile, Ingo and Emmet have finished work for the day and are ready to head home for a well earned rest. But their trains are derailed when they hear the sound of children screaming.

It's shocking, full of fear and desperation. With no more than a quick glance, they rush off to help whoever is in distress.

The human twins are brought up short when they find two tiny children cornered by a joltik.

Normally these pokemon were quite small and harmless, but at their size, it must have seemed like a monster! There also seems to have been something of an unfortunate accident.

The small boy is laying on the ground, seemingly paralyzed by an electric jolt. The girl is kneeling by his side, begging him to move, to be okay.

The joltik is awfully sorry. It didn't mean to shock anyone. It just got carried away. But every time it tries to approach, the small girl yells at it to stay away.

This whole scene throws Ingo and Emmet for a loop, but soon their own training comes to their aid, and the two subway bosses take charge of the situation.

Emmet comforts and distracts the distressed Joltik while Ingo performs a safety check on the two young ones.

The girl is shaking violently. Heaving gasps of air that never seem to be enough to fill her lungs. The boy is completely out of it. Neither of them are in any condition to be left on their own.

Ingo and Emmet can't get any information out of the girl about where she came from (you don't tell humans that kind of thing!) and so having few options left they end up bringing the children home with them. (After all, Emmet is well supplied with paralyze heals)

At first the kids are out of their minds with panic, but eventually they come to realize that the two humans, while looking quite scary, are actually very kind. Funny too.

I have more, but I have to go now. I'll also add a read more once I have a chance to get on my desktop.

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity Ch.3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Your quiet days in castle Dimitrescu met their end the moment Cassandra took an interest in you.

You should have known. Perhaps you did know and just didn’t want to admit it.

The woman –vampire, mutant, what even are they— is a bipolar sadist.

One night she may be walking down the halls sending you a sexy wink under her hood as she passes you by, the next she could show up out of nowhere and cut you ‘hello’ with her sickle, scoop up the blood with her thumb to taste, then disappear again. The evening after that, she may not even give a damn about you, may not spare you a single fleeting glance, like even the notion you could be worth her time is laughable.

And it is, isn’t it.

Humans are nothing to them. Your significance is below that of a pet. You may as well be livestock. It doesn’t matter, though, so long as you continue to breathe and remain intact. They’re the two essential factors to escaping. All else is secondary.

It doesn’t matter how Cassandra views you.

You don’t even like her.

What is there to even be drawn to? She’s covered in blood more often than not. The scent of iron usually drowns out her perfume. She’s capricious and cruel and the living personification of an unsheathed knife. You prefer your routes safer. Playful, creative pretty girls that are good for you and most importantly, sane.

Whatever weird tricks your brain and hormones are playing where she stars –you hate it, what is wrong with you— they’re just delusions, you reason, born from her questionable flirting and your time in captivity. It’s just a really bothersome case of Stockholm Syndrome you’re developing. And it has to stop.

Another week passes. You don’t see her.

You are on another night shift when you hear the telltale buzzing of insects down the corridor. Hervoice reaches your ear afterwards;

“Ugh, Bela, you never complain about anything. It’s so annoying.” Two pairs of heels steadily tap towards you.

“I leave it to you and Dani to cover for me, since you complain about everything.” The quieter sister drawls. You can easily picture her roll her eyes as she says it.

“You know, you really should sound more thankful I came with you in this unearthly cold.”

“I gave you the option not to—”

“Just to have you rummage through that bookshop for what was definitely the most boring twenty minutes of my life.” Cassandra continues.

From the fleeting glance you steal at them, the entirety of her attention is on Bela. You don’t think she’ll notice you as you continue polishing the corridor’s decorations. It’s just another one of these nights where you don’t exist and you’re deeply glad for it. Not just for yourself, but also the other maids.

“I thought I was going to die of frostbite.” she growls, shaking the elder sister’s arm.

“Technically, you can’t.” Bela shakes hers back.

It would be… cute, if they were any normal family. But you are quick to remind yourself of what they really are. Devils in human form. Monsters that took you from your home and trapped you here, to clean after their mess, with the threat of death looming over your head every second.

Their steps pass you by. You can almost breathe normally again, when—

Cassandra stops.

“Not even going to tell me hello?” The hurt in her voice can’t be genuine, you tell yourself as you turn around to face her. She’s closer than you thought, enough for you to be able to make out the tiny melting snowflakes caught in her long lashes.

“Um—hello.” you say, awkwardly.

“Cassandra.” Bela lets out a soft sigh.

“Bye, Bela.” The brunette pointedly speaks over her shoulder.

And to your horror… “Just keep in mind what mother said about the maids.” the eldest sister leaves you alone with her.

Each further step until the blonde disappears from view fills you with dread. Cassandra has that spark in her eye that you’ve learned to not associate with anything good. She’s completely still until she’s sure the two of you won’t be overheard or interrupted.

Then, she moves.

Her hands all too easily shove you against the wall. It’s more startling than painful, you realize, when your back doesn’t protest much at the collision.

Cassandra maintains eye contact with you as she tugs at the fingers of her gloves. You cannot fathom why it looks that sexy, the way she pulls them off, whether it is intentional or not.

“Plaything.” she says. Another new nickname for you. Not that you ever expected her to care to know your name. “I’m terribly cold.” she doesn’t seem to be lying, though the soft pout that curves her mouth is surely for effect.

It’s a test and your wellbeing depends on it.

Only, you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. Ruling your nerves under control, you decide to start slow. “Shall I light the fireplace in your room, my lady?”

“Maybe I want something more… immediate.” she replies, raising her hand to your neck.

The second her freezing skin touches your flesh, you cannot help but flinch. It feels like a slightly softer block of ice. Cassandra’s eyes creak at the corners. Of course, the sadist is enjoying your torment. Slowly, her fingers move under the collar of your black button-up shirt, which only makes it worse. The cold spreads, a peculiar tingle at your stomach with it.

“Well?” she asks. You get the memo that just sitting back and letting her have her way isn’t going to work, this time. You call upon all the willpower you possess and act.

Carefully, your hands rise to meet her own. You aren’t looking at her in the eyes –you don’t think you could— as your fingers wrap around hers and bring them in front of you, close to your body, warmed from hours of work. Instead, your gaze locks on the golden jewel decorating the chocker at her throat, before falling down, to your point of contact.

It is not the first time you see her hands without gloves on, but it only now hits you just how dainty they look. Her nails, filed round, are dyed a darker shade of crimson, stark against the white of her skin. There isn’t a single blemish or uneven spot you can feel on her palm. It is a princess’ hand you seem to be holding, not a killer’s.

But appearances can be deceiving.

The very corner of Cassandra’s lip curls up, amused or pleased or both. She then reaches forward, at the lowest clasped button of your shirt… and frees it open. You’re sure you aren’t breathing. Two more buttons are released. Her fingers, at least now considerably warmer, splay against your stomach. Something inside you quivers like a flickering candlefire.

You don’t want her touch.

But a traitorous, weak part of you has already decided that it does.

“You work out?” it is merely a whisper between you. She presses a little closer, entirely unashamed to be feeling the contours of your middle up while you’re burning with embarrassment.

“…probably the days of working in the fields.” you say, voice low because it cannot be trusted any higher. She’s doing a little thing with her thumb over your skin that you desperately want to deny turns you on.

Thanks to her you’re now freezing and burning at the same time.

Cassandra just stays like that for a few more seconds.

“Draw me a hot bath.” she eventually orders and extracts herself from you as if she’s not remotely happy with her own decision.

-

-

You don’t really know how she likes her bath and she doesn’t tell you.

All you can do as you test the water on your hand is pray. Your mind isn’t really working right after the touching at the hallway, but your survival instincts are strong still. Strong enough to remind you that Cassandra likes to be treated like royalty above all, so bubbles are your best friend in this. The more, the merrier.

The Dimitrescu daughter does not ask if the bath is ready when she comes in. You aren’t used to her being so silent, so you turn to see if something is wrong –but immediately regret it when the heavy robe clinging to her body drops down. The only glimpse you catch is of the fabric pooling at her feet like a shadow.

Your eyes stay glued on the queen-sized bathtub, even when she approaches. They turn to the side as she enters it.

You want to ask if the water is fine, but you can’t find your voice. You lose even your train of thought when she lets out a small hiss as she sinks in, replaced by a moan once she’s completely settled back, neck tilted and eyes closed in bliss. The polite thing is to let her bathe in peace, so you move to do just that.

Cassandra has other plans.

Her hand shoots out of the tub to wrap around your wrist, inescapable as an iron shackle. Those intense yellowish eyes are on you again and they seem to be glowing under the dim lights.

“No.” she says. “Massage. Now.”

Ah, great. You think. You’ve spoiled her. But if giving Cassandra massages is what is going to keep your hands attached to your body, you won’t complain. It’s just that… you can’t really focus right now. None of your thoughts are right or remotely what they should be. You need time off from her, rather than touching her.

Thankfully, the moans are kept to a minimum and there is no teasing. She is utterly relaxed, only giving the occasional command for higher or lower. It does kind of kill you when at one point she whispers “Right there.” but you are able to move past it.

You leave fresh towels beside her when you’re finally allowed to leave. Back in her bedroom, you light the fireplace in a way that you make sure will last through the day, while she’ll be asleep. The plan is to leave before she returns, but she’s already there by the time you’re finished with the preparations.

And –you’re trapped.

Because, again, she’s changing and you have to look away to preserve your sanity and probably your eyes. “No peeping, now.” she calls over her shoulder. You know better than to dare.

You keep your hands busy arranging bottles and boxes at her vanity until she’s done. Cassandra does that ‘flashing’ thing where she’s on one side of the room one moment and right behind you the next. You only then notice a little insect flying back into her form. It was spying on you.

“You didn’t even look near me, huh.” she says it like ‘congratulations, you passed’, but there’s a bitter undertone of disappointment in her voice.

She’s only feeling down that you didn’t give her an excuse to slice at your face, you think. Then again, does she really need one?

“I wouldn’t, my lady.” you assure. “If I may be excused—”

“Did I say you can go?” she turns you around, none-too-gently, her hands on your biceps tight. You’re effectively pinned against her and the vanity, but you have much bigger problems to worry about, when you take in what she’s wearing.

Cassandra is clad in a flimsy nightrobe that leaves little to the imagination, the fabric nearly see-through. You can see the edges of her lacy underwear underneath it, how nicely it sits against her perfect curves. To make matters even worse, the robe ends at about mid-thigh and your eye catches the expanse of creamy skin on display.

Your brain nearly melts.

“I don’t know what it is about you, plaything, but you’re working up my appetite.” she confesses, pressing into you, pressing you harder into the furniture. You try to think of literally anything else than how well her thigh is slotted between your legs.

If you’re supposed to look away from her lidded eyes, however, you can’t. And if you’re not supposed to feel the echo of her nails on your arm all the way down to your center, you can’t. You are definitely not supposed to be so achingly curious about her bow-shaped lips. But you just can’t.

“You’re working me up.” she breathes, so close you can feel the ghost of her lower lip on yours.

And then –her mouth is on you and you forget how to breathe. Your eyes close and just feel, instead. If this is how you die, maybe it isn’t such a bad way to go. It’s been too long since you kissed anyone, seems like ages ago now, but you gradually remember how to move once you allow your muscles to unlock.

Not looking at her makes it easier. Her lips are balmy and smooth and slide so good on your own you can’t think at all, much less of what she’s capable of. You would have guessed her to be aggressive, but Cassandra is oddly hesitant, the only thing hard about her being her grip.

You’re not sure what you’re doing or how you get so bold, but your hands trail up to her waist and pull her in. The little hitch in her breath threatens to break you. It provides the perfect opening to part her lips with your tongue. As soon as it touches hers, she moans low in her throat and slowly drags her hips against your thigh.

Oh. God.

There’s a hollow ache in your stomach. You’re shamefully wet for her. The voice of reason is mute in your head, until you’re forced to break your liplock to breathe and it only then hits you what you’ve just done.

Cassandra’s lips are insistent on your jawline, on the vulnerable spot under your ear. Her open-mouthed kisses are just hard enough, at first, but then start to border on painful. Your heart skips a beat when you feel the press of teeth, yet she rips herself off of you before she bites down.

“Ugh. I’m… so thirsty.” she says it lightly, but her voice is hoarse and something about her body language gives you the impression she’s hurting. “You should leave. Fast.”

You almost make the mistake of reaching for her. Almost.

Cassandra turns away from the temptation of your veins.

For both your sakes –mostly for yours— you hurry out of her room and never stop to look back.

[baka-monarch]

Dirt Crawlers

Look @darkeninganon , I beat you to writing the slug thing!!!! :)

(brain just randomly started thinking of story and I just decided to write it now before I lost motivation/inspiration)

Part 2->

TRIGGER WARNINGS: BUGS, FEAR, MENTION OF DEATH, FEELING SMALL, VERY GROSS DISCRETION

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

Tommy watched Dream as he pushed the door to their hole in the ground open The younger Dirt Crawler was practically bouncing with excitement. Today was the day, finally Dream was taking him out on his first hunting trip. It was the perfect day for hunting as well, since it hadn't rained for weeks and was so bright and sunny out (as Tommy could tell from the blinding light coming through their burrow door) that there was no way it would rain; so there was no risk of them drowning in a puddle or getting dragged down to suffocate in mud. It was also the afternoon by now, judging by where the sun was, which meant almost no birds out hunting at all. Yeah, now would be the perfect time to get some food.

"You remember all the rules I told you, right?" Tommy was startled out of his thoughts by his older brother's voice.

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know I know!" The teen rolled his eyes. The rules had been drilled into him ever since he was a kid, ever since their parents were still around.

"Okay, so remember that we're only hunting aphids- no attacking ants, ladybugs, termites-"

"Mantises,"-He cut off Dream's words-"slugs- yeah yeah, I know boss man! We don't fight anything that isn't an aphid!!" Tommy climbed out of the burrow with that in mind. He already knows what happens if a Dirt Crawler tries to fight anything other than an aphid, he's been told the horror stories thousands of times. Ants will swarm you if you hurt one, ladybugs can headbutt trample and eat you, termites can take a limb off with one bite, and mantises- of Prime Tommy really does NOT want to think about fucking mantises.

"I'm just making sure-" Dream added as he climbed out to stand next to Tommy, kicking their burrow door closed behind himself. "I know how adventurous you can get at times and I don't want to risk anything." The elder puts a hand on Tommy's shoulder and looks into his baby brother's eyes seriously. The world is a dangerous place for someone only half an inch tall, and he wants to make sure his baby brother is safe.

"Stop worrying so much- I'm not gonna leave your side big man." Tommy smirks into their serious gaze and gives his brother a comforting pay on the shoulder, making them sigh with relief.

"Good- because I don't know what I'd do without your annoying voice." Dream jokes with a slightly forced chuckle and ruffles the teen's curly blond hair. Tommy only groans in annoyance and pushes his hand away, which only makes Dream let out another fond chuckle. "C'mon, we don't have all afternoon!" The elder doesn't give Tommy any time to fix their hair as he grabs their hand and pulls them off into the towering grass blades.

It's a few hours later when the two brothers find themselves watching from being blades of grass as several aphids hop around on the dirt, having called off of the grass after the two tiny people had shaken their plant homes with the help of a light breeze. Dream pulls out a small sword and turns to Tommy to make sure he's holding his own sword correctly. Once the eldest is sure the time is perfect, he gives a signal with his hand and both split- Dream running in from the right and Tommy from the left, both catching the tiny bugs off guard and using that to their advantage to slice off the heads of several before they can jump out of reach.

"You did it!" Dream smiles up at Tommy who himself is smiling proudly. They were running low on food, and now with Tommy's help, they're both sure to have more than enough aphids to last them for a week or more at least. "This should be good- you, did good Toms." The green clad Dirt Crawler walks over to his brother and ruffles their hair, and this time Tommy does not complain. "Now help me bag them up-"

"Yes sir!" Tommy gives a small thumbs up and starts to fill his sprig woven bag with the dead aphids as Dream does the same. It's all fine until one of the aphid bodies gets up and starts to limp away- Tommy missed it's head. "I'll get it!" He calls over to his brother, who gives a nod of acknowledgement before Tommy chases after the aphid, knowing he can easily catch and kill it since it can't jump.

Tommy doesn't notice anything suspicious as he approaches the injured aphid. He doesn't look around at his surroundings as he gets out his sword. He doesn't look up as he stabs the bug and finally kills it. He does however scream after looking up to see where the droplet of slime had come from on his sword after landing the killing blow.

Dream snaps his head up to attention, his eyes wide with fear for his Tommy as he looks to where they'd run off to- and he almost screams as well. "IT'S A SLUG!!!!" He's quick to run over and grab Tommy's arm and start to drag the petrified teen away before they can be eaten.

Tommy doesn't hesitate to follow Dream once he snaps out of his state of fear. As they run Tommy tries not to think about the humongous slimey being of pure squishy muscle, with four eyes that stared at him with nothing but hunger, and a large gaping mouth that was opening and closing, ready to eat it's lunch with the rows upon rows of tiny razor sharp teeth that could allow the disgusting giant to swallow him whole. Tommy shivers, yeah that's going to be haunting his nightmares- oh well at least slugs are slow, so he and Dream have plenty of time to run away…. Or so he thought, before suddenly his running is slowed significantly by something making him stick to the ground. The teen looks down, and sees he's stepped into a trail of familiar slime that has him now stuck where he stands.

"Dre- Dream!?" He yells to his older brother, who also finds himself slowed by the slime trail. Dream looks at his brother sadly, and grabs their arms before desperately trying to pull Tommy free as the slug approaches at a slow orgilating crawl towards them.

"Tommy- Tommy, look at me!" Dream said, keeping his voice firm, trying to give his baby brother something to focus on. "Don't look back- don't- d- don't look behind you. Just focus on me, we're going to get out of this." At least Tommy is close enough for Dream to pull them into a hug. He lets Tommy bury their face into his chest, letting them cry as he glares up at the omnivore that had successfully hunted them down on Tommy's first aphid gathering…

"I- I'm scared…" Tommy admits quietly, something they usually would never do, but Dream can understand in this situation: getting stuck while running from a slug is certain death for any and all Dirt Crawlers.

"I know… I know, but it's going to be okay, I promise…." Dream whispers softly and weaves his fingers into Tommy's soft golden curls, something that's always calmed them down, no matter how old. He hugs his small brother close, closing his eyes so he can savor one last moment with them…

BOOM-SQUELCH!!!

The sound is loud and disturbing to hear for the absolutely miniscule brothers, and they both open their eyes wide in surprise and fear of what happened. All that can run through Dream's head is that the slug must've been crushed by something, but what? A deer? A wolf maybe? Possibly even a skunk even if they aren't in this area? The only way to find out is to look up- and up- and up and up and up and-

"Fuck." Dream doesn't cuss often, but for this occasion it feels necessary.

"Wh- wha-" Tommy begins to ask but cuts off his own words as he feels all his breath leave him in fear, as he looks up too.

A giant. An actual giant. A person, thousands of times their size was standing right on top of where the slug had been only seconds before- and it seemed like they didn't even notice they'd crushed anything.

"Human…" Dream mutters quietly, remembering the word from a story their mom told him once before Tommy was born. Giants- humans- weren't supposed to be here. Dirt Crawlers almost never had to deal with humans… yet here one stood, having unintentionally saved the two brothers lives, and Dream realized in a moment how close they both were to that death dealing foot, and if the human hadn't seen the slug, then if they took another unfortunate step- "R- run- we need to run! Run!!" Dream shouts and starts to pull Tommy, and his brother quickly gets the message as they both pull themselves out of the slime to start running.

Dream doesn't let go of Tommy's hand the whole time as they both run as fast as they can, but it doesn't feel fast enough as every time Dream looks back the human looks just as close as they were before and- oh gods they were looking down at them. Dream pushes forward, trying to pull Tommy even faster with a feigned hope that maybe, just maybe they can at least get to the burrow in time and be safe until the human leaves-

Dream bounces back off of something hard and smooth, he can't see it but he can feel it. Tommy rushes forward to stand beside him and starts to bang on the invisible wall; it's a fruitless effort however as both know that anything used by humans is guaranteed to be too strong for either to break through. Only a few seconds later they feel gravity change and they're sliding down the wall, Dream grabs Tommy and hugs him, wanting to make sure that wherever they land his brother is safe more than anything. They eventually hit a bottom, made of another invisible wall- and as Dream looks up he meets two massive eyes, twice as big as himself, staring directly at him and his brother.

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

Mcyt g/t list:

@trashpumped @lorie-the-little-ghost @encaos @i-am-a-weeb @wyforyu-gaming @5unfl0writ3r @colorfulsiren @moonmwah @iwasgoingtohellanyways @echoslime @wilbur-simp @trouble-off-grid @lilsyxx @smogs-0 @hello-world-im-snow

[five-rivers]

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt:  Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately.  There was something in the atmosphere, almost.  It felt… lighter, maybe?  

He didn’t like it.  

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion.  The tendency had saved his life multiple times.  Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost.  Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with.  Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him.  Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often.  Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha.  He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one.  Skipped school and everything.  The whole high school experience.  Ha.  

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.  

He sighed, heavily.  Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding).  Stock up on supplies.  Get ready to weather a storm.  Literal or metaphorical.  

But hiding out in the cave was so boring.  There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah.  Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah.  Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts.  It was pretty empty around here.  

Just like Flynn’s heart.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  That was a good one.  

Eh.  Life wasn’t so bad.  He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time.  Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof.  Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity.  And not having a concussion.  Or losing any more teeth.  

But, back to his original topic.  

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe.  Was it directly Flynn’s problem?  No.  The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.  

Flynn recognized that.  Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom.  But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.  

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger.  Who knew what could come out of a portal?  At least according to the ghosts he talked to.  Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.  

This was going to suck so much.  

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary.  Which he had read.  Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck.  He could take one ghost.  Three? Yeah.  Not a chance.  

Maybe they’d leave?  They couldn’t know for sure he was here.  With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.  

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.  

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again.  He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either.  No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.  

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.  

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait.  They weren’t.  Flynn would know.  He’d made many unbelievable jokes.  They’d never attracted anything but groans.  

Ha.  

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost.  “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.  

“We don’t have any choice about her, though.  Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.  

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out.  Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn.  Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him.  The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago.  At least a decade.  

But he did scream.  Loudly.  Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all.  He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.  

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages.  “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.”  He examined his fingernails.  “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.  

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate.  Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.”  He eyed the eyeballs.  

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.  

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.  

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork.  “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn.  He adjusted his grip on his staff.  “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face.  “No.  Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby.  Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.  

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork.  He raised an eyebrow.  “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip.  Hard.  Okay. He wasn’t dreaming.  And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway?  Flynn was nothing.  He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.  

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.  

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands.  “Then let us away to the castle.”

.

Well.  That was certainly a castle.  Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.  

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house.  Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.  

Or even hole, when compared to all this.  Dear god, this place was fancy.  

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.  

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin.  You are not underdressed.  

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings.  “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost.  “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.  

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one.  I will collect you for dinner in three hours.  Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.  

… There would be curtains, right?  This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.  

He opened the door.  

Lots of curtains.  Lovely.

No, really.  It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains.  He might be crying.  

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft.  He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy.  Filthy.  Covered in years’ worth of grime.  He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.  

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath.  He was craving a human-safe bath.  With clean water and soap.  

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes?  Toothpaste?  Unrestrained luxury.  

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter.  The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.  

There was a sink.  

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.  

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.  

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water.  Because he made it so, so dirty.  He sank into the water, up to his chin.  

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause.  Because it was always a lost cause.  Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.  

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available.  He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one.  Were there ghost dentists?  There had to be ghost dentists.  They had a lot of teeth.  A lot of teeth.  Sharp, scary, teeth.  

Ugh.  His baby cousin was a ghost.  He’d probably have teeth like a shark.  When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all.  Because.  Baby. Little, tiny, baby.  

Who Flynn barely knew.  

Why did he even want Flynn?  Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?  

Ghosts were weird.  Anything could be possible.  

He flopped face-first onto the bed.  His bed?  His temporary and maybe permanent bed.  If he was allowed to stay here.  

Oh, gosh.  Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals.  Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?  

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?  

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.  

(Dad?  Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed.  But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.  

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now.  He was living in the scariest place out of the world.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe.  Oh, boy. Many clothes.  He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store.  Incredible.  

They were so fancy, too.  He didn’t know how to choose.  

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.  

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed.  Some of them looked cool.  And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.  

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet.  Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear.  Wow.  It had been a while.  

.

Okay.  The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice.  Like, no nap nice.  

He wanted to take a nap.  

But no nap was occurring.  

The bed was too soft.  Ugh.  This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.  

He groaned.  He hadn’t thought that was real.  He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama.  Or something.  

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.  

Maybe he could sleep here.  

.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover.  What cover? Oh.  Bed.  That was the bed.  He was in the room.  In the castle.  The ghost king’s castle.  

His baby cousin’s castle.  

He was going to cry.  This was so weird.  

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand.  Which.  Might not have been the best of ideas.  But, hey, he was dressed now.  

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle.  Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there.  One of his eyebrows went up.  “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down.  Orange and green went fine together.  What was he talking about?  

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.  

“Come, now.  Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back.  At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.  

He decided not to do that.  Running away wasn’t his style.  

(Who was he kidding?  That was definitely his style.  He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing.  Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.  

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled.  “Only the future.”  He swung the large, gilded door open.  

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates.  There were a small group of children beyond it.  One of them waved at him.  Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.  

[nejibaby]

Afterglow

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x Y/N

Summary: Without Ace, your nights are back to being long, dark, and empty. But when you finally reunite, Ace refuses to just be your Daylight.

Daylight - Part 1 | Afterglow - Part 2

Word Count: 4.3k (my hands slipped, I’m so sorry)

Loosely based on: Taylor Swift’s Lover album (but mostly about the songs Daylight and Afterglow)

A/N: I really think Whitebeard is a great father, yk? So I see him as someone who you can always seek and rely on. He looks tough (and he’s actually tough), but he’s soft too! And Ace too, in that respect is similar to WB. I really believe he’ll be such a good boyfriend 🥺 Anyway, I really enjoyed writing this so much! Thank you to everyone who read this, I love yall 🥰

<Teach doesn’t exist to me, I hate him, so I guess this is noncanon? Also, there’s this tiny spoiler, just a warning.>

Sailing by yourself in a boat for one reminds you how vast the sea actually is. With the rowdy Whitebeard pirates, sometimes the sea, no, the world, seems a lot smaller, a lot more manageable, but alone, it feels so massive it’s almost frightening.

It’s easy to get lost, except there’s no such concept like that for someone like you who doesn’t have a destination to go to in mind. Quite simply, you’re wandering, but not lost.

You drift from one island to another. Your initial intention is to get as far away as possible from the crew. Now that that’s achieved, you’re unsure of what to do next.

You allow yourself to observe and to experience some sort of normalcy at the islands you dock at. It’s a good thing that you don’t really stand out so no one suspects you’re a wanted pirate.

Walking down the streets of random towns, you’re reminded of how lonely being a Celestial Dragon was. No one wants to interact with a World Noble, afraid of the consequences if they’re angered. Things changed drastically when you became a pirate though. People don’t shy away that much with pirates in certain places. They interact with you, albeit hesitantly sometimes. Nevertheless, you felt so free and happy.

Now, you’re still a pirate, as marked by Whitebeard’s infamous tattoo. But with the unsuspecting townspeople and the lack of the presence of a crew, you don’t feel like one. Somehow it makes you feel empty.

The void is immeasurable. Despite it being unbounded, you’re sure that a single person can fill that emptiness: Portgas D. Ace.

But there are oceans separating you from Ace— a distance that you put. With the space between you, there’s silence in your voyage, however, it’s quite mystifying how every island you reach seems to scream his name.

There’s an island where you’ve docked at that’s snowing all year long. It brought back memories of when you were fairly new to the Whitebeard Pirates and had landed on a similar island. Back then you’ve worn a coat as you disembarked Moby Dick, however, the cold continued to seep through your layers of clothing. You couldn’t handle extreme temperatures that well but you didn’t want to make a big deal out of it so you continued to walk alongside the crew to scout the area. The thing was you may have been terrible at hiding it because Ace noticed the way your body was shivering and your teeth chattering. You were only acquaintances back then but he went to your side and striked a conversation with you. You didn’t understand why you became comfortable when he approached you all of a sudden, but then later that night you realized that he used his devil fruit abilities to warm you up.

At one island with a bustling town, there’s this restaurant that serves a variety of meat. You’re reminded of Ace and his bottomless pit of a stomach, and of his narcoleptic episodes while eating. He has a tendency of eating and then running, and the first few times he did it with you had you reeling. When you’ve finally realized that he’s never going to change, you start to keep a pouch of gold coins with you, reserved for paying for the food he eats. You leave it on the table just as Ace pulls you to run, and he has no idea about it. Owners or servers at the restaurants would still follow you out, but not to berate the both of you for not paying but to return the extra gold coins because you pay too much. Like usual though, Ace pretends not to hear them and they never got to catch up with you and Ace.

On another island, there’s a huge wild boar thrice the size of a human. It reminded you of the time you got so excited to explore an island that you speedily ran towards the forest alone, only to be met by a wild boar. The size of the boar stunned you and its glare kept you frozen in fear. A loud scream escaped your lips when it lunged at you, except the impact never came. When you’ve gathered your bearings, the wild boar was dead and… cooked, courtesy of Ace’s devil fruit abilities. He saved you, but he played it off as if he had his eyes on the wild boar since the beginning “to hunt it down.”

The current island you’re at is in famine. As soon as you docked at their port, a group of men has drawn their swords at you. For a moment, you thought they were bounty hunters so you grabbed your daggers and took a defensive stance. However, from the way they keep looking back and forth to you and your boat, and from hearing the faint sound of their stomach grumbling, you can tell they aren’t. Behind some trees, you can see the heads of some children peeking with worried yet hopeful looks on their faces.

Slowly, you raise your hands up in surrender, dropping your daggers in the process. You can’t turn your back on them — figuratively and literally — so you walk backwards towards your boat. The men look at you curiously but they don’t ever lower their swords.

In a quick motion, you grab a bag containing all of your food supply and throw it at them. One of the men catches it. “You can have them. It isn’t much, but that’s all I have.”

The man who was able to catch the bag carefully opens it and sees food. He almost cries at the sight of it. The rest of the men lowers the sword after you offer no sign of aggression. They start calling the other citizens of the area afterwards.

The children are the first to come running towards the men — all of them conveying excitement. You couldn’t tell how long they haven’t eaten but judging from how thin they are, it has got to be quite some time.

A small girl stumbles and falls near you and you quickly come to her aid. There isn’t much damage, just a scraped knee so you carefully patched her up.

“Thank you,” she gives you a toothy smile and then starts heading to the men who are distributing the food.

She comes back a moment later, arms outstretched to hand an apple to you. “For you,” she says.

Something blossoms in your heart because of her sweetness. “Thank you, but it’s fine, you can have it,”

She doesn’t object but then she hugs you tightly. “Thank you so much.”

Surprisingly, even on an island like this, you’re reminded of Ace. You remember his story about coming to Wano and meeting a child named “Tama” who seemed to be as charming as the child you helped and is under the same fortune.

Now that your mind has drifted to thoughts of Ace, you didn’t want to think of anything else. Even as the people gather around you to offer their thanks, and even as they usher you to a bonfire to celebrate for the food to eat, the thoughts of him linger in your head.

And just like in all the previous islands you came to, you wish he’s here with you too.

There’s longing in your heart, but there’s also something else— something pleasant that you can’t quite describe— and you attribute it to the gratitude of the people.

The mother of the child you helped, Sito, offers their spare room for you to take and you graciously accept. Soft snores almost immediately fill your ears after a few minutes of them bidding you good night.

The longer you stay awake, however, the pleasant feeling you felt a while ago starts to leave a bitter taste in your mouth.

You’ve always criticized yourself for not being able to do more when you were still a Celestial Dragon but now that you did something good, you start to feel selfish for doing it because it makes you feel better about yourself.

It’s at times like this that you seek Pops. There’s a sudden urge to hear his voice and his thoughts. So you grab your Den Den Mushi, but you hesitate.

You’ve lost track of the days since you left Moby Dick. And in that time frame, you never once called Pops. Although you didn’t really promise to call, maybe he was expecting you to, especially since you know he wouldn’t do it first.

You sigh. Maybe this call is long overdue after all.

You step outside the house and start to contact Pops using the Den Den Mushi. It only rings once and then it’s answered, almost as if Pops was waiting by the Den Den Mushi. The thought brings a smile to your face. “Pops—”

“Why on earth are you only calling now?!” His angry tone welcomes you.

“I’m so—”

“Is that Y/N?!” Marco interrupts. Ah, how could you have forgotten? It’s at this time that Marco reports to Pops. “We’re so worried about you -yoi!”

You can hear sounds of struggling on the line and then there’s a loud smack followed by an even louder crash. There’s a moment of silence which makes you wonder what’s going on in the ship.

“Why didn’t you call earlier?!” Pops’ voice booms. “If you’re going to leave a Den Den Mushi, I’m going to expect your reports but I received none of that.”

“I’m sorry Pops. I have no excuse,” you sheepishly say.

“Everyone’s worried about you,” he pauses but then his voice rings louder once again, “Some are even outside my room trying to listen in on our conversation. But if they know better, they should leave us alone.” The sound of rushing footsteps could be heard in the background as Pops finishes his sentence.

You chuckle, imagining the crew eavesdropping. “How are you Pops?”

“I’m doing fine.”

“How’s everyone? How’s… uhm… Ace?”

“Everyone’s just missing you. You didn’t say goodbye after all,” he says. “I put Ace on a mission because he won’t stop pestering me about you. He won’t come back in a couple of days.”

“Oh.”

“He misses you a lot,” he sighs. “He strides to me everyday to demand your whereabouts. Each time I wouldn’t tell him but he never learns. Vista says he’s on his 56th attempt the other day.”

The brief image of Ace that your mind comes up with brings a small smile to your face.

“When are you coming back?” Whitebeard breaks your reverie.

“Ah, I’m not sure yet… It might take a while.”

He hums. “So how are you? Have you been eating well?”

“I’m doing fine, Pops. No one’s been coming after me yet so everything’s going well,” you respond. “But… Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“There’s this island with people who haven’t eaten in so long so I gave them everything I have.” There’s a loud growl coming from Pops so you immediately continue your speech before he could scold you for doing such a thing. “I feel really good about what I did as they thanked me. But then the longer I thought about it, I started feeling ashamed because... wasn’t it selfish since I did it to make me feel better about myself? Then I started to wonder if it was wrong to do good things just because I wanted to be absolved of my parents’ sins. Was I wrong in doing this, Pops?”

“No, you did the right thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes, you’re not an inherently bad person for getting paid in gratitude.”

“But…”

“Making yourself happy by making other people happy is how it’s meant to work. If one of your key motives to doing good things is to feel good, then you’re still doing something good and there’s nothing shameful about that.”

Hearing his words puts you at ease. You’re glad you called him. “Thank you, Pops. I’m sorry for worrying everyone there and for disrupting Marco’s report. I promise I’ll call more often from now on.”

“It’s fine. Just don’t forget to take care of yourself too. Where will you be headed next?”

“I’m not sure. I’m just going where the sea leads me.”

“Be careful.”

“You too, Pops,” and with that, you bid your goodbye and hang up.

By morning, you start preparing your things to leave. You didn’t want to stay for too long because you didn’t want to consume even a portion of the small amount of food they have.

Sito offers you to stay another night, worried that it would be uncomfortable to sleep on a boat. “You can stay one more day. There’s still enough food for us to share.”

“Oh no, I don’t want to impose,” you decline. “But do you mind if I ask what happened here?”

There’s sadness in her eyes, it was easy to tell the memory pained her, but she tells you everything anyway. “This island is one of the few lawless areas in the world, hence, it’s a place where pirates would dock at. A group of men once docked here and kidnapped the leaders of our town. They were sold off to be slaves, because apparently the Nobles like to enslave people of power…” Her words start to fade on you upon the mention of the World Nobles.

Anger flares up in your system immediately. How low can the Celestial Dragons go? It’s sickening to think that you share the same blood as them. It’s because of this revelation that something becomes clear in your mind.

Ever since leaving Moby Dick, you’re just wandering aimlessly. But after hearing Sito talk about this island, you’re finally sure of what your destination should be.

Sabaody Archipelago.

Specifically, the Human Auctioning House.

From the sudden fury that overwhelms you, not even the fear of being within arm’s reach of the Marines, and possibly dying, could stop you from going there.

It’s reckless and foolish, but isn’t this the reason you left Moby Dick that night— to face your nightmares instead of running away from them?

You listen politely as Sito explains everything else but her words enter and leave your ears without you having to comprehend them. Fortunately, she doesn’t notice your inattentiveness, probably because she wants to pour her frustrations out to a stranger.

You offer your sympathies to her and promise her you’d come back with your crew and help them some more. It’s a simple promise yet for someone who hasn’t been offered help for so long, it means a lot, enough to even bring tears to her eyes. And just like that, you leave.

There are two more islands to stop at before you reach Sabaody Archipelago. You gather provisions on one island and buy explosives on the other.

The only thing you’re sure you can actually do alone is to blow up the Human Auctioning House. Facing the World Nobles is for another time, unfortunately. As for the Marines, well… You’d worry about that if they indeed come. You know you’d be able to handle them as long as they don’t send an Admiral after you.

The thing that worries you the most, however, is Pops’ reaction once you let him know of your plan. While you can always just not tell him, it feels wrong, and you promised you’d report to him, after all. And it’s hard for you to admit, but you secretly want to be saved in case your plan goes askew. That, and well, you still want to make up with Ace, may it be just strictly as friends, but preferably as lovers.

You decide to call once you’re about to set sail towards Sabaody Archipelago. You’re sitting in the middle of your boat, still anchored at the port when you told Pops your plan. And as expected, he’s mad.

He demands you to go back to the crew immediately. “Captain’s orders,” he says. But after a few moments, he retracts his words and says, “Your father’s orders.” You feel the weight of his words when he said that and you almost concede. But the faces of the slaves your family had flashes into your mind and it solidifies your decision.

Interestingly, despite the weeks you have spent away from the crew, their ship is nearer to you than anticipated. As confirmed by Pops himself when he angrily said, “Enough! I’m sending Ace to get you! Two or three days is enough for him to catch up with you.”

But quite frankly, that’s also enough time to execute your plan. And if the odds are in your favor, then Ace might just come in time for your escape.

Arriving at Sabaody Archipelago, you keep your face hidden underneath the hood of your cloak. It’s normal for pirates to walk around the place without having to hide their identities, but it’s a luxury you can’t afford. If someone catches wind that you’re here and reports it, the Cipher Pol just might come and capture you before you can even execute your plan. That just won’t do. So on the first day of your arrival, you only scout the area of the Human Auctioning House and retreat back to the inn you stay at.

You carry out your plan on the next day. You place a bomb where the side of the stage is supposed to be. It’s a distraction so people inside would leave the premises. The plan is to find the keys and free the slaves while the people are panicking from the explosion. Then eliminate the head of the place, Mr. Disco, and finally blow the place apart. It sounds simple but with you having to do all the work, you know it isn’t.

Now that you’re here, your nerves are spiking up. Arriving at the entrance of the building, you take a deep breath, your hand automatically reaching for the bracelet that Ace made you. It instantly calms you down.

It baffles you how fate works because on the very day you decide to free the slaves that are being sold off at the Human Auctioning House, Ace’s brother, Luffy — along with his crew — is at the same place to rescue their friend who was kidnapped.

Somehow even on a dangerous mission like this, there’s still something or someone who’d remind you of Ace. It makes you wonder: has he really embedded himself too deep into your life that there’s no escaping the thoughts of him? Not that you mind; the thoughts of him bring you peace, after all. But still, it’s fascinating that even in both mundane and dangerous settings, he makes himself known to you.

Upon entering the Human Auctioning House, everything happens so fast and unexpected. And quite frankly, a lot happened that wasn’t part of the plan.

Aside from finding the Straw Hat Pirates, you got yourself injured when you used your body to shield their fish man friend, Hatchi, from Saint Charlos’ gunshot. Then you confronted Saint Shalria personally despite you not planning to get involved with the Celestial Dragons. As for the slaves, it was the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh, who actually freed them. The only things that you personally executed from your plan were Mr. Disco’s elimination and the bombing of the Human Auctioning House.

Escape is easy once the building starts to explode because the Marines would have to lessen the forces who're chasing after the pirates in order for them to successfully put out the fire. Without any Admiral on the scene yet, it’s not hard to slip away from them and/or fight them.

Even with the gunshot wound on your arm, you’re able to take down each and every one of the Marines who are chasing you. But halfway through your journey back to the grove where you left your boat at, you lose your adrenaline.

You start to feel the sharp and stinging sensation on your arm once again, yet, you couldn’t help but smile. You have gotten out alive. The slaves have been freed. With both Mr. Disco and the building gone, the Human Auctioning House will no longer be operational, or at least not yet until someone steps up. But that won’t be after a long time.

It’s a wonderful day.

You look up at the afterglow of the sunset with a serene smile. You have a feeling your nights are going to feel shorter now and less frightening than they were before.

Your peaceful moment is cut off by someone rather abruptly. You jump in surprise as someone wraps their arms around you from behind all of a sudden. “I finally caught up with you.”

Your breath hitches at the sound of the voice. “Ace? What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer your question, but he mumbles, “I’m sorry if I only came now. Pops wouldn’t tell me where you were, but I came as soon as I could.” Then he tightens his hug. “I was so scared, I thought I’d lose you…”

“Ace, I’m sorry about—”

“Hey, it’s on me, okay?” He interrupts. “I blew things out of proportion, and now you’re blue.”

You pull away from his hug to face him.

“Y-your arm! You’re bl-bleeding,” he stutters after seeing your injury.

But you pay no mind to that. “Ace… I’m really sorry about us—”

“Ssshhh, baby…” he rubs his hand on your back.

He looks at your figure carefully, focused on looking for any more bruises or wounds. When he doesn’t find anything more, he gently holds you by your waist. “Don’t blame yourself, I’m the one who burned us down, but… it’s not what I meant.

“It was all in my head, okay? It’s just that the Celestial Dragons are all grouped in my head as scums and that they’re inexcusable because… my brother was killed by a Celestial Dragon.”

A wave of guilt flows through your body, enough to weaken your knees. Before you could fall, however, Ace catches you and brings you to his chest. But this doesn’t stop you from sobbing on his chest. “I didn’t know, Ace. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s the thing, baby. It isn’t your fault. It wasn’t you who pulled the trigger. And… I have to admit I failed to see that at first,” he says as he hugs you tighter. “I shouldn’t have stood there frozen after you told me your story. I’m supposed to be the one who understands you...

“I’m not trying to make excuses and I’m not trying to make this about me but it’s just that… for so long I thought that I inherited the bad blood of my father, and I spent my lifetime failing to see that his sins aren’t my sins,” his voice cracks as he cries. “So when I found out about you… My mind automatically held you liable for the sins of the Nobles…

“But I talked to Pops and he straightened me up. I understand now. Our parents’ sins aren’t ours. It never was ours to begin with. So I’m sorry for blaming you for something you didn’t do…”

Ace stares at your crying form. He cups your face and sincerely says, “It’s so excruciating to see you low,” as he wipes the tears on your eyes. “I’m sorry if I hurt you…”

“It’s fine Ace, I forgive you. But…” You look directly into his eyes. “I’m at fault too,” you confess. “I was the one who left... I was so used to living like an island and isolating myself that it didn’t occur to me that I was punishing you with silence… I should’ve waited patiently for you but I ran away…”

Ace rubs your back gently and presses his forehead against yours, “I forgive you too.”

You smile in relief.

After a couple of minutes in silence, Ace tilts his head. “Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you said that you saw daylight after sleeping in a long, dark night?”

You give him a curious look but nodded anyway.

“Beside wishing that I was there for you sooner, it had me thinking...”

“What?”

“Uhm… The world is terrible and cruel, and no one can ever really stop the dark nights from coming.”

You frown. You don’t really understand what Ace is trying to say.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is,” he rubs his neck while his cheeks starts to blush, “if you ever have to go through those dark nights, I wouldn’t want you to wait for daylight.

“I want to be there with you on those nights until they’re over. I don’t want to leave you when things get rough and only show up when you’re better. I know you see me as your daylight but I don’t want to be just that.”

His words warm your heart, and makes it skip a beat. “You know, Ace, there are remnants of light that linger in the sky even when the sun has long gone down and the night starts. It’s the afterglow,” you mumble.

“Yeah, but that goes away too after a while,” he frowns.

“Well, lucky for you the moon reflects the sun’s light during the night, huh?”

He grins. “Yeah, yeah. I like that. I want to be your source of light, may it be the daylight, moonlight, or the afterglow.”

A moment of silence engulfs the both of you. Under the soft afterglow of the sunset with your arms wrapped around each other, you feel at peace.

Once upon a time, you used to believe love is black and white— that it’s straightforward. It was either you love Ace or you don’t, there were no gray areas. No matter what he feels, says, or does, your love for him never ceases.

But then some other days you believed that love is burning red— that it’s full of passion, lust, and romance, much like the nights you spent entangled in the sheets with Ace.

However, right now in Ace’s arms, all you could ever think about is that love is golden. It was warmth and comfort, like what daylight brings. It was contentment and serenity too, much like the feeling of lightness one gets when seeing the afterglow of the sunset. Either way, it’s Ace who makes you feel those.

No matter what color love actually is though, for you it’s always embodied by Ace.

[corysmiles]

1/2 part fic incoming

Arguments(comfort/hurt)

It was so nice to be able to walk freely again.

Spring had come sooner than normal, and the snow that clogged the forests had melted away. It made it so much easier to explore the area around the village. He had started to map it out, marking Ranboo’s cave, the river, and any tree clearings or other landmarks. Tubbo hadn’t found any other towns yet though.

It didn’t make sense. Techno came from another village when he was eight, and there was no town in reasonable running distance for an eight year old anywhere.

Maybe Techno’s just built different, he thinks. Maybe he got attacked on while his family tried to escape and ran the rest of the way to our town? Maybe Tech’s home was near to ours but the giant destroyed it in the attack? Tubbo needs to keep an eye out for ruins. Judging from what they have in L’manburg, there should be a well or emergency stone bunker somewhere in the area.

There’s a part of the rudimentary starting map he hasn’t filled in with marks and notes, and while it’s unlikely the remnants are there, looking can’t hurt.

Putting the map back in his backpack stretches the stitches on his arm. Scratch that actually. Looking hurts a shit ton if you aren’t prepared.

Sometimes he feels like humans are actually just tiny and unwilling to admit they’re the odd ones out instead of everybody else. The trees loom above his head whenever Tubbo walks through the forest and he has to climb over the roots.

But, the magic tomes and rituals humans learned enchanting from made by people like them. ‘Regular’ sized animals still existed too. There were deer his size in the woods too, contrasting with the ones that were bigger than his house. There had to be a missing link somewhere, some genetic divergence or unidentified organism that would tell him how this all went down.

Speaking of unidentified organisms, the soft brush of fabric and fur against grass comes from his left as Tubbo rounds a tree larger than his entire town, one of the speckled ones that makes up the primary tree canopy. It’s somehow magnified and impossibly quiet at the same time, which can only mean that the creature occupying his blind spot is a giant. His unburned hand rests on the pommel at his waist out of practice.

Tubbo’s not scared though, the enchanted sword (Sharpness V, Knockback II, Mending) was mainly a precaution to keep his brothers from pestering him. There was only one giant in this place that wouldn’t disregard any semblance of subtlety to snatch him up and eat him or just ignore him and walk away.

“Hey Boo. Didn’t know you were out of hibernation. You’re in Catboy mode again, right? Not full cat anymore?”

A wall of black fur settles next to him, and when he looks up, a face has appeared far above him, floating just below the canopy of leaves. Ranboo’s face looks like the half-moons (three-quarters if he wants to be pedantic about lunar cycles and his friend’s (husband’s?)(frusband’s) split appearance) he would sometimes see overtop of the village walls. It was huge, even though it was so far away.

Beautiful too, in the artistic sense. Two massive gems had embedded themselves in the lunar surface, emerald and ruby with pupils of coal that dilated whenever they focused on him.

A furred palm the size of Tubbo’s mattress touches down next to him, and he climbs into it as a voice rings out, loud and hushed at the same time, like he’s got his ear to someone's mouth.

“Every spring I wake up and look forward to fully processing the things that come out of your mouth, my beloved,” Ranboo said, “And yet. The first thing you do is call me a catboy? I’m getting a divorce.”

“Actually, the first thing I did was say ‘hi.’ Your case has been rendered invalid. and you’re stuck with me.”

At this, his friend lifted him up to his head and placed him on it. “Thank you for that. It’s so nice to see you again. Really. But, what are you doing out so early? It’s-” the giant cupped Tubbo to keep him on his head while he tilted up to squint through the trees-“midday. You usually don’t come around til nighttime.”

Tubbo started rummaging through his bag almost instantaneously, his head has been swimming with ideas since last week and he had to tell Ranboo everything. It was a long, long story, with a lot of set pieces and junk.

“Wait until we get back to the cave. I’ve got a lot to show you, and I don’t wanna drop anything.”

“Cool,” Ranboo stopped suddenly, and Tubbo has to dig in his heels and lean into his friend's horns to avoid pitching forward to the ground.

A hand slowly comes up, pinching a blackberry the size of his torso between fingers, and Ranboo asks, "I was going to eat this one, but I figured you might be hungry. Want some?"

The berry could probably be his lunch and dinner for several days, but he knows how hard it is for his friend to find food. Ranboo's not as territorial as most other giants, tending to guard people better than land, so anyone passing through could take all the food in the area for safekeeping. He settles for taking two of the druplets (the mini-berries that make up the whole), and sends the fruit back down.

CUEJXJWJ I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!

The way you wrote their interactions is so cute and I love the questions about where techno came from ( >:) I might have answers). I’m so excited for what comes next :D

[justanotherpersonsuniverse]

Demon Alya: Ladybug learns the truth

“Hold on a minute,” said Alya as she scrutinized the billiard-ball sized object on the bed in front of her. It glowed with several different shades of purple that swirled around each other just slightly faster than was comfortable to look at. “This is a very difficult case.”

Sitting next to her on the bed, Juleka stifled a giggle. “What’s your prognosis, Dr. Alya? Am I going to make it?”

Alya grinned at that. “Your soul looks mostly fine,” she said. Her tail flicked in pleasure; Alya liked it when her ‘cult’ — or, as she had learned to think of them, her friends — were doing well, and Juleka was one of the closest friends she had. Alya’s wings fluttered a little too, creating a slight breeze which blew a few strands of hair into Juleka’s face. Juleka blew them back with a mock-grimace while Alya chuckled and then continued. “No blemishes or spots that I can see. Just a little agitation. And as for what might cause that…” An idea came to her. “Are you planning on asking Rose out later?”

Juleka blushed, her skin reddening to the point where it almost matched Alya’s devilishly-red hue, and the colors in Juleka’s soul began swirling even faster. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I’ve been, um, trying to build up the courage for a week or so, but it’s hard.” Her hair drooped over her face, and this time she didn’t try to push it back. “She’s so amazing,” Juleka went on. “And I’m—“

“Also amazing,” Alya cut in. “And I’m not just saying that because you’re the best high priestess ever. I know that Rose likes girls who are kind, compassionate, wise, and have a strong moral code—and you’re four for four. Forget that prohibition against angels dating humans; if you ask her out, I’m certain she’ll say yes.”

Juleka smiled a little, but she said, “Everything you say makes sense, but I just have trouble making myself believe it. It’s hard to feel it, you know?”

“Yeah,” said Alya, thinking about one of her other friends. She’d been hanging out at Marinette’s house a couple hours ago, listening to the girl excitedly detail the pastries she was going to make for a charity bake sale, and she’d found herself wondering once again if she could risk revealing her true identity. It would be so easy to let her demonic veil fall and show Marinette her true form, and surely Marinette was kind enough and non-judgmental enough that she’d be able to see past the horns, wings, flickering tail…

But if she wasn’t, if Marinette panicked at learning that Alya was a literal demon from Hell, then the friendship would be over. And Alya couldn’t risk that. Even if Marinette didn’t do anything else (like call Ladybug to banish Alya back to Hell for the next few eons), Alya would be devastated to go through her time on Earth without being able to call on her best friend. And so Alya had once again decided the risk wasn’t worth it, no matter how much she yearned to be able to tell Marinette about her true self.

But even if she couldn’t solve her own problem, she was sure she could help her High Priestess. “Let me try,” said Alya as she cupped Juleka’s soul in her hands. “I think I can calm your soul enough that you can at least ask Rose without panicking halfway through.”

“Thanks,” said Juleka with gratitude in her voice. Alya could tell that she’d been worried about losing her nerve at the worst moment. 

Alya focused on Juleka’s soul, reaching out with her demonic senses until she could feel Juleka’s love-fueled agitation. Then she began to exert her will on it. “Yield to me,” she chanted in quiet Latin. “You who have entrusted me with your soul, yield and let me calm you…”

After a few minutes, the colors in Juleka’s soul slowed down a little, and Juleka took a breath. “I feel better,” she said as a smile crept across her face. “Seriously. Thanks.”

“No problem,” said Alya as she continued to focus on Juleka’s soul to make sure no traces of agitation could remain and screw things up for her later.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Juleka said. “You told me that demons usually use their soul-influencing powers to torment the people whose souls they take, as part of their torture. You know, like making them fanatically loyal and ready to sacrifice everything else for their demon, or driving them into fits of rage, or things like that. But you use your powers to make me and the other people in your cult feel better and be more functional. Do you have different powers than other demons? Could other demons act like you if they wanted?”

“They could; my powers aren’t unique to me,” said Alya as she inspected Juleka’s soul again and noted that it was now in perfect order. “After all, any of the things I’ve done for you guys could be used to hurt someone. Take right now: I just calmed you down, and that’s good, but another demon could calm the soul of a soldier to mellow him out so much he couldn’t be roused to defend his position, resulting in the bad guys overrunning it. Or look at yesterday. Aurore was still feeling a grudge against Mireille for beating her to get that TV job, and she asked me to help her get over it so she didn’t get angry whenever Mireille was on TV. I was able to use my influence over her to make her more forgiving and remove that blemish in her soul, and everything was fine. But another demon could do the same thing on a judge so that judge decided to ‘forgive’ criminals and release them, even knowing they were going to commit more crimes.”

Juleka inclined her head. “I see. But I guess most demons stick to the more obvious types of harmful influence? Making people angry, or greedy, or things like that?”

“Yeah,” said Alya. “The seven deadlies are classics for a reason. They usually work for tempting and damning people, and they don’t require a lot of knowledge—make a human really angry and he’ll usually commit a sin. So they’re useful for demons who aren’t interested in humans, the ones who just want to bag their quota of souls and go back to Hell.” She grimaced. “But those demons are idiots. And the idea of squishing all humans down to being a bunch of angry, greedy jerks is just… it’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “I mean, I was taught otherwise and I even believed that at first when I showed up here, but that crumbled as soon as I met actual people.”

“Specifically, Marinette,” Juleka noted.

Alya blushed a little, but said, “Not just her. So many of the humans I’ve met are amazing, and I’d rather help you be the best humans you can be than turn you all into a bunch of psycho cultists. Yes, there’s humans who are already awful, and I’ve got no problem yanking their souls and doing all the traditional devil stuff to them. You guys heard what I did to that exorcist who tried to banish me, I’m sure. But corrupting someone like you, or Mylene, or Alix… taking away what makes you girls unique so you can become yet another generically-terrible person… that would just be wrong, no matter what my bosses say.” She paused. “If you girls are in my cult, if I’ve got your souls, I want to use that to help you. Not torment you.”

“Well, you’re a pretty amazing demon yourself,” Juleka said. “And we appreciate that.”

Alya beamed at that. “I do try,” she said in a faux-haughty voice. “And as long as my high priestess continues to supply me with regular deliveries of Dupain-Cheng pastries and anime to watch, I’m sure I shall continue.”

Juleka laughed, then stilled herself while Alya picked up her soul and gently pressed it against her chest. After a moment the soul slid in through Juleka’s shirt and body, and Juleka gasped slightly at the now-recognizable (but, somehow, never totally familiar) feeling of suddenly being more ‘herself.’ Once her soul was back inside her, she let out a happy breath and said, “I really do feel calmer now. Thank you so much, Alya. I think I can ask Rose out without panicking.”

“Well, if you need any help, you know who to call.” Alya hopped off the bed and stretched, her wings flaring out and her tail flicking backwards to poke Juleka’s nose. Juleka giggled and playfully flicked at it, and it recoiled for a moment only to dart in and begin tickling her under her chin. Juleka quickly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Alya glanced back and smirked for a moment before laughing herself, and it took a moment before either of the two girls could stop. Then Juleka managed to get up, a silly grin still on her face. “I’ll look over the souls,” she said as she motioned to the large shelf where Alya kept the now-considerable number of souls from her ‘cult.’ “See if anyone has any new blemishes or spots.”

“Just don’t mix them up,” Alya said. “I remember the last time my little sisters got in here and put them all out of order, and then when Mylene needed her soul back for the day so she could go to church, she accidentally got Chloe’s soul and spent the whole service calling the priest ‘ridiculous’ because he kept asking for donations to buy fancy artwork for the church but wouldn’t commit to using any of the funds for actual charitable causes.”

“I won’t,” said Juleka. She went over to the shelf and began looking at the souls. First was Chloe’s, which was yellow and orange and vaguely spiky (though the spikes were gradually shrinking as Alya and the others worked to bring the prickly girl out of her shell). Then came Alix’s, which was pink and almost vibrating with energy, to the point where it actually bounced if dropped or tossed against a wall. (Alya knew this because Alix had idly tried to dribble her soul one day, and it had bounced around the room until it bonked Alya in the head, at which point Alya had instituted a no-dribbling-souls policy). Next was Nino’s, a gentle blue ball in a comfy little doll bed and had tiny headphones playing Nino’s favorite music. And so on, down the line.

While Juleka looked over the souls, Alya gathered up a few dishes and went to put them in the kitchen. Technically, it was the job of her cult to do any chores that she needed done — and it was Juleka’s job to manage the cult and make sure that happened — but Alya didn’t feel comfortable making them do that. Besides, Marlena would get mad, and—demon powers or not—Alya knew better than to disobey her.

Alya entered the kitchen as she idly whistled a tune she’d heard on the radio. Her little sisters were over at Nino’s house, which meant that there should have been nobody in the house who didn’t know that she was a demon, which meant she didn’t need to bother with her veil. As such, she was in her full demonic appearance, with red skin, horns, wings, cloven feet, and a flickering tail as she rinsed off the dishes.

And then, when she turned around, she saw Ladybug staring at her.

For a few moments Alya didn’t believe it. Then her mind almost crashed as she realized what was going on — that one of the superheroes, someone who wielded the power of the kwami and was more than capable of banishing her to Hell for half an eternity, knew her true nature — and scrambled to find a way out of it. But none came to mind. Ladybug was staring at her, Alya Cesaire, in her demonic form. 

A half dozen potential options for escape flitted through Alya’s mind, but none survived a second of scrutiny. Ladybug was fast, strong, fiendishly clever, and she could summon magic objects which always somehow managed to be whatever she needed to catch her quarry. Then Alya thought if there were any possible ways to fight Ladybug and win — if she could throw Hellfire, or Whisper distractions, or draw on her cult — only to dismiss those ideas too. This was Ladybug. She couldn’t win a fight against her. And besides, even if she somehow did, that would leave Paris defenseless against Hawkmoth. It would leave her cult—her friends—without protection from that lunatic.

And so Alya didn’t run or fight. She just lowered her head and whispered, “Please don’t banish me…”

“I wasn’t going to banish you,” said Ladybug.

Alya blinked. “You weren’t?”

Ladybug shook her head. “If I was, I wouldn’t have waited for you to notice me,” she pointed out. “I’d have zapped you from a neighboring rooftop.” A slight smile appeared on her face. “You’ve fought alongside me for how long, Alya, and you think I’d give someone a free shot?”

Despite everything, Alya couldn’t help giggling. “No, you don’t usually subscribe to the ‘that akuma needs to have a fair chance of killing me or else it’s not honorable’ school of thought. You’re more about wanting to win.”

“Damn right,” said Ladybug, which made Alya smile a little more. Ladybug returned a smile of her own, though it quickly faded. “So no, I’m not here to banish you. But I do want to talk to you. I need to know what you’re doing in Paris. And if you’ve…” She took a breath. “If you’ve done anything that, as a hero, I would need to correct.”

Alya nodded, but then something occurred to her. “You don’t seem surprised that I’m, uh, who I am,” she said. “How long have you known?”

“About two weeks,” Ladybug said. “Do you remember how Mayor Bourgeois signed that law to bulldoze that forest preserve and put up a shopping mall?”

“Yeah,” Alya said. 

“I knew that a local girl named Mylene cared a lot about saving the park, and I was worried that she might get akumatized once Bourgeois crushed her hopes,” said Ladybug. “I went to her and found her just in time to see one of Hawkmoth’s butterflies touch that pin in her hair. Before she actually got akumatized, though, I could see her trying to fight it off. And I could… sense, I guess… something helping her. Something was trying to keep her calm and urge her to fight off Hawkmoth’s promises.

“Whatever was helping her, it was able to keep her from giving in for long enough that I was able to get to her, smash the pin, and purify the akuma.” Ladybug shrugged. “She thanked me and said she felt better, but I could tell she was still a little tense, and that whatever was helping her was still influencing her. So I tried to follow that magic, and it led me to your apartment, where I looked in through the window to see… well, to see you, looking like that, holding a lilttle rainbow-colored ball and chanting something at it.”

Alya frowned as she thought back. “Wait a minute,” she said after a moment. “Two weeks ago, right? I remember. I was home when I saw her soul begin flashing red and vibrating, like something was attacking it. So I tried to calm it down.” Then, despite everything, a tiny smile spread across her face. “You’re saying I stopped her from being akumatized?” she said. “I didn’t even realize that was happening, but… I’m glad I was able to help.”

Ladybug nodded. “You did. But Alya, I need to know why. I talked to my kwami afterwards and she said this isn’t normal for demons; they don’t usually stop destruction in the human world unless there’s some ulterior motive. But you did stop her. So: why?”

Alya hesitated. “I mean, Mylene’s one of mine, you know? She’s in my cult and she’s my friend. I have to look out for her. I don’t usually like messing with my cult’s souls without their permission, but if one of them’s about to self-destruct, I can’t just sit back and let that happen.”

“Why not?” pressed Ladybug. “Isn’t that why demons come to Earth? To lead humans astray, get them to sin, and ultimately take their souls to Hell?”

Alya’s mouth opened but no sound came out.

“Alya,” Ladybug repeated. “This is important. If there’s some weird demonic plot going on, then as the protector of Paris, I need to be aware of it so I can derail it.”

“I know, but… I don’t want you to think less of me,” said Alya softly. “You’re an amazing hero and a good friend.”

Ladybug smiled a little at that, then went to Alya’s side. “I don’t want to think less of you either,” she said. “And I promise you, whatever I think, it’s not going to be influenced by your species. So just be honest with me, Alya. Tell me everything.”

Alya paused, again torn. But she finally said, “Okay. I will.”

The two girls sat at the kitchen table and then Alya said, “When I first came to Earth, it was exactly like you said. My job was to collect souls and that’s all I cared about. I figured I’d just find people, tempt them, grab their souls, and move on. That’s what most demons do.”

“So what changed?” Ladybug asked.

Alya blushed a little. “You might think this is stupid, but I met someone. This girl in my class. Her name’s Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Ladybug froze, though Alya didn’t understand why. She was pretty sure Ladybug knew Marinette; after all, Marinette had used the Mouse Miraculous once, which presumably meant Ladybug had given it to her. Then Ladybug shook her head. “What about Marinette?” she asked.

“She was so kind to me,” Alya said. “I was new to the human world, I didn’t have any friends or connections, but as soon as I got to school—that was my cover, I was a local student—she befriended me and helped me fit in. And… look, I know humans are nice to each other a lot, but in Hell, that never happens. Everyone’s always out for themselves. The only reason someone down there would help me is so I would owe them a debt or a favor. But Marinette was just so compassionate, so kind, and she genuinely didn’t care about being paid back.” Alya smiled a little dreamily. “She was amazing. And she made me want to… to be different.”

“Different how?” Ladybug asked, still seeming slightly stunned.

Alya shrugged. “She’s the kind of person who can… inspire people to live up to her example, I guess. At least, she inspired me that way. I loved her kindness, the way she so obviously cared for me and for others without worrying about herself, and I found that I wanted to be like that too. I wanted to keep feeling the way I felt when Marinette was kind to me, or when I was kind to her. And also, the idea of doing the standard demon thing, of using twisted magic to warp some innocent person into committing a heinous sin so I could seize their soul… it didn’t feel right anymore. It felt awful. Cruel. I couldn’t bear to be like that, not after having experienced real human kindness.” 

“So m—Marinette’s kindness helped convince a demon to stop tempting people?” Ladybug asked.

“Yeah,” said Alya with a little chuckle. “Seriously, if you haven’t met her, you should. I think you two would be amazing friends.” Then Alya paused. “But, um, it wasn’t just Marinette. I don’t want to sound like a stalker or something. I made other human friends too and they also helped me be better.”

Ladybug seemed to shake herself, as if breaking out of a stupor. “So you don’t take souls for your bosses?” she asked.

“I do,” Alya admitted. “But only people who have already committed serious sins. Criminals and the like, especially the ones the police haven’t caught yet. I get their souls so I can fulfill my quota and stay up here on Earth, and I don’t mess with them too much. Mostly I just influence them so they won’t work with Hawkmoth by making them too despondent to respond to his summons, or too paranoid to trust his promises, or other things like that.”

Ladybug blinked. “Wait, that’s you?” she asked. “So that’s why Hawkmoth never worked with felons and why he’s just picking random people who happen to get mad one day! I would have figured they’d be the most likely to join him! That makes a lot more sense than my prior theory.”

“What was your prior theory?” Alya asked.

“That Hawkmoth is an idiot,” Ladybug said.

Alya couldn’t help giggling at that. “Well, he did summon Mr. Pigeon dozens of times, so that wasn’t a bad theory,” she joked. “The man is not as smart as he thinks.”

“Nope,” Ladybug agreed. “Seriously, I mean, the guy has total control over the powers he gives people, and yet half of them are useless. What was Reflektra even supposed to do? Make us look ridiculous while we kicked his butt? How does that help him?”

Both girls laughed before Ladybug brought the conversation back around. “If you’re really just targeting people who have already committed serious crimes—and making sure they don’t commit more—then that’s one thing,” she said. “But I do know you’re collecting the souls of others as well, like Mylene. Why is that?”

“To make sure other demons don’t get them,” Alya said. “I’m not the only one here. And I can’t tell you who the other demons are—literally, I’m under a demonic geas that will set me on fire if I say their names to someone who doesn't already know them—but I can tell you they’re a lot worse than me. The other demons have no problem at all with warping innocent people into Hellbound monsters. But if I get the souls of my friends first, the other demons can’t lay their claws on them.”

“Hmm.” Ladybug gave Alya a long look. “I imagine you had to trick these friends into losing their souls at first.”

“Yes,” Alya admitted. “Some made deals—Mylene wanted me to resurrect her pet ferret, for instance--but others, like Alix, lost bets or fell into a minor temptation I set up. I didn’t love doing that, but if I hadn’t, they’d be in the clutches of a far worse demon.” She shuddered at the thought of what Lila would have done. 

“Now that they know the truth,” Ladybug went on, “If these friends wanted their souls back so they could leave your cult, would you let them?”

Alya hesitated. “It hasn’t come up,” she admitted. “They aren’t hurt by losing their souls, except that they can’t go into churches or do a couple other ‘holy’ things. And I don’t use my power over their souls to make them worse. I try to help them when they ask for help, instead.”

“Even so,” Ladybug went on. “If Mylene went to you tomorrow and said she wants out, what would you do?”

Alya was tempted to just lie and say that of course she’d return Mylene’s soul, but she had a feeling Ladybug would be able to sense that. So instead she tried to give the question as much thought as she could to come up with her honest response. “I’d be worried about her, and I’d try to convince her otherwise,” she said. “But if Mylene was adamant, I’d give her soul back. Some demons treat their cults like slaves or prisoners, but I can’t do that.”

“Because Marinette would disapprove?” Ladybug asked.

“Not just that,” Alya said. “Maybe for the first few days after I met her, but I’ve moved past that. My ‘cult’ are my friends and I wouldn’t keep them against their will.” She let out a breath. “But again, it hasn’t come up. Honestly, I think they like knowing that if something goes really wrong and they become upset or angry, there’s someone looking out for them who can calm or polish their souls. Especially Chloe. Her mother is… not great, and Chloe has panic attacks when she’s around. She was really happy when I said I could monitor her soul and try to soothe it when her mother came to visit.”

Ladybug carefully considered that. “You wouldn’t mind if I didn’t just take your word for it, right?” she asked. 

“I can give you a list of the people in the cult,” Alya said. “You can ask them for yourself. Plus my high priestess Juleka; I don’t keep her soul on my shelf, since she’s got both warlock and paladin powers to defend it with—long story—but she'd be happy to talk to you about what I'm like.”

“Thanks,” Ladybug said.

The two were silent for a moment, and then Alya asked, “So… what now?”

“Well, now I need to talk to your cultists,” Ladybug said. “But assuming they verify what you said… I don’t see anything here that I’d need to banish you for. As far as I can tell, you really are trying to be a good a friend, and you’re doing a good job of it too. As long as you don’t take any innocent souls, and you don’t do anything abusive to your friends in your 'cult,' I don’t need to get involved.”

Alya felt a wave of relief rush through her. “Thank the Devil,” she breathed. “I’m glad.”

Ladybug smiled. “Out of curiosity, is being banished that bad?” she asked. “My kwami said it’s not permanent and you could come back once the spell wore off.”

“That could take centuries,” Alya said. “All the humans I knew would be dead by then. I couldn’t bear to lose them, especially Marinette.”

“Maybe you could see her after she dies,” Ladybug noted. “Her soul has to go somewhere, right?”

“It won’t go to where I’m from,” said Alya at once. “Seriously, I peaked at her soul once when I was sleeping over at her house and…” She smiled wistfully. “It was so incredibly pure… the purest I’d seen. No, she’s Heaven-bound for sure, and I won’t be able to see her once she dies because I’m not allowed up there. So I just… I want to make as much of my time on Earth with her, and all my other friends, as I can.”

Once again, Ladybug didn’t seem to know how to respond for some reason. Alya, though, thought of something else she really needed to say. “Speaking of Marinette,” she said. “I… look, I loved having the chance to help you fight Hawkmoth as Rena Rouge. I’d give anything to be able to do that again. But if you can’t trust me because of… of this…” She gestured at her horns and tail. “If you need a replacement, I’d suggest you look at her. The girl’s heart is so pure I can’t imagine Hawkmoth ever corrupting her, and not only is she strong, but she’s incredibly clever. Trust me, she’d be a great hero.”

Ladybug’s cheeks colored slightly. “Thank—I mean, I’m sure she’d thank you if she’d heard that,” she said. “But like I said, unless I learn that something you told me wasn’t true, I don’t see any reason to take your powers away from you. I’m happy to have your help in the battle against Hawkmoth. In more ways than one, apparently.” She smiled. “In fact, once you give me the list of the people whose souls you have, if I learn that one of them is getting upset or is likely to get mad about something, I hope it’s okay if I text you and ask you to check on their souls.”

“Of course,” said Alya at once. “Anytime you need.”

Ladybug nodded. “You’re a good friend, Alya,” she said. Then she turned on her heel before pausing. “Ah, one more question. You said you took your friend’s souls to protect them. Why not Marinette’s? You don’t have her soul, right?”

“No, I don’t,” said Alya. “I thought about it, because I know there’s other demons who would love nothing more than to corrupt someone as pure as her. But I…” She hesitated. “If I took her soul, she’d know what I really am. And I can’t bear the thought of her rejecting my friendship over that. She’s… she means a lot to me.”

“I see,” said Ladybug. “Well, I won’t spill your secret, but I’d encourage you to tell her. I know her pretty well, and trust me: she might surprise you.”

Alya smiled, though inwardly she wasn’t sure if even Marinette could be that tolerant. Still, though, Ladybug’s word had a lot of weight. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said at last. “And I’ll also keep a close eye on Marinette. I might not have her soul, but if I see demons moving to attack her I’ll do everything I can to hold them off. And I’ve got my paladin/warlock high priestess to help, plus this angel I know. We should be able to keep her safe.”

“An angel?” Ladybug repeated. 

Alya grinned. “Yeah. I know demons and angels aren’t supposed to get along, but this one’s cool.”

“I don’t suppose Marinette influenced her too?” Ladybug said in a teasing voice.

“Marinette seems to influence everyone for the better,” Alya said. “Marinette will never know it, but yes, I think the angel is happy to know her too.”

“Why won’t Marinette know it?” Ladybug asked. “Are angels not allowed to reveal themselves?”

“It’s more that they only do so if they’re smiting an evildoer, or if they need to save a human from temptation,” Alya said. But Marinette’s so pure that she’s not really in any danger of that, so I don’t think she’ll be getting any angelic intervention unless she spontaneously gets tempted to rob a bank or something.” She giggled. “Which really isn’t like her.”

Ladybug laughed too, though she seemed slightly disappointed for some reason. “I need to get going,” she said. “I’ll see you later, Alya. Thanks again for all that you do.”

Alya waved as Ladybug launched herself back out the window. Then, feeling a bit overwhelmed, she went back to her room to tell Juleka everything.

——

The next day, Alya found herself invited to the Dupain-Cheng bakery. “Hey, girl!” said Alya as she walked inside. “What’s up?”

“Alya!” Marinette said. She ran over and exchanged hugs with her best friend. “I just came up with some new pastries and I wanted you to be the first to try them!”

“Anytime!” said Alya. “What’cha got?”

Marinette took a few pastries off the shelf. “This one here is a Mexican chocolate cake,” she said. “I remember you saying you liked the spicier pastries, so I made it with a little cayenne pepper. Please, try it!”

Alya bit into the cake and grinned as the fiery sweet flavor danced over her tongue. “This is really good,” she said. “Seriously. And—“

“Oh, there’s also this other one,” said Marinette suddenly. She took down a donut. “I wanted to get back to my roots a little,” she said. “But I also wanted to make something you’d like. So this is a cinnamon donut with green and red chilis, the sort you find in Hunan cuisine.” She handed it over. “What do you think?”

Alya tried the donut and gasped, because it was possibly the best thing she’d ever tasted. The sweetness matched the peppers perfectly. “This is amazing,” she said. “Damn, girl, you know how to bake. Although, I thought you said you guys weren’t working too hard on developing spicy pastries because your parents didn’t think they’d sell well?”

“I’m going to prove Maman wrong about that,” said Marinette firmly. “Because people who enjoy spicier deserts should be able to get treats they love, just like anyone else. I’ll make spicy treats that are so good they sell just as well as everything else we’ve got.” 

Alya blushed. Marinette really was one of the kindest people around, she thought.

“Besides,” Marinette went on, “even if these didn’t sell, it’d still be worth making some for you. After all, you’re my best friend.” She moved closer to Alya. “You’re an amazing person and a wonderful friend,” she went on. “I don’t think anything could drive us apart.” She gave Alya a quick hug. “Maybe I don’t tell you that enough, but it’s true.”

“Um.” Alya wondered if Ladybug had maybe hinted to Marinette about some of the conversation they had. “Right back at’cha,” she said. “I think you’re a great friend too.”

Marinette smiled.  

Alya hesitated, on the verge of asking Marinette to go somewhere private so she could remove her demon veil… but she still didn’t feel quite confident enough. Someday, she thought. But not just then. “If I”m so great,” she said, “maybe you could let me have a few more of these?”

“Have the whole tray!” Marinette chirped. “But one thing in response: the concentration of chilis is slightly different in each one, so I need you to rank them. That way I know which one is the best one!”

“You’ve got it!” Alya grinned and reached for another donut. She was truly blessed, she thought, to have a friend like Marinette.

——

Later that evening, Marinette was in her room with Tikki, trying to relax after a long day of helping her parents in the bakery.

“I’m just saying, Tikki,” Marinette said quietly, though her voice was light and she was clearly joking. Well, mostly joking. “It would just be one bank. I might get to see an angel, and then I could give the money right back!!”

“No, Marinette,” said Tikki in a stern voice.

“It could be a bank owned by bad people!” Marinette went on. “It—“

“No, Marinette,” Tikki repeated.

Marinette smiled softly. “I guess you’re right. But I hope I get to meet that angel anyways.” She blushed. “I can’t believe that I convinced a demon to be good.”

“You’re a very special person, Marinette,” said Tikki. 

Marinette grinned before settling back on her bed. The idea of having helped to make Alya the amazing, compassionate warrior for good that she was… well, it was stunning. It made her feel really good. 

Of course, as Alya had explained, there might be such a thing as being too good. “What if it wasn’t a bank, but it was just some jerk like XY?” Marinette asked. 

“Marinette!” Tikki complained before tossing a pillow at her. “No sinning just to meet an angel!”

Marinette giggled. “I know,” she said. “Still, it’s fun to dream.”

Across the neighborhood, Alya was also dreaming. “Someday,” she promised herself as she thought of telling Marinette the truth. “I promise.”

“Hey, Alya,” called Juleka from across the room. “We’re about to start the show. You want in?”

“Sure!” Alya said. She scurried to the couch and slid down between Juleka and Mylene. And then she settled back to watch the show with some of her best friends in the world.

-------

AW THAT WAS WONDERFUL

I loved that thank you!

Just imagining this is how the akuma charms are made, via Alya being a smart cookie and smart soul user. That was just so delightful

[echo-of-sounds]

hands

Small headcanons about the hands of Aizawa, Toshi, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog.

Hands have always been one of my favorite body parts. I used to love anatomy and wanted to be a surgeon. But once I saw a video of a surgery, I lost all interest.

Warnings: it’s nothing in any detail but some of these mention injuries/blood

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta has big palms. Hair and veins are noticeable on both sides. On the dorsal side, dark hair from his arms brushes along the outside. There’s a light dusting on his proximal phalanges. Prominent veins line the dorsal side as well. You can trace them up along his wrist and forearm.

On the palmar side, blue and purple veins lay close to his pale skin’s surface. They’re seen remarkably far up his arm and down into his fingers. A few light scars mark his palm. And warmth radiates from his palm. It’s excellent on chilly nights. While cuddling, his hands slide under your shirt, keeping your stomach warm. 

His fists are one of his main weapons (on his body). Consequently, his knuckles have taken a beating. Even with the proper posture and punching technique, his fingers will eventually feel the damage of socking skull bones over and over, even more so since he doesn’t wrap them. His metacarpophalangeal joints (MCP) are a little distorted. His pinky’s shifted, his middle is much higher than the others, and his ring’s have receded. They don’t affect his hand movements, but he does feel pain and gets twitches every now and then.

His cuticles and skin around the nails are dry, flaky, and peeling. Most of the skin on his hands is rough and dry, but he never uses lotion. If you want to help, just sit beside him one evening as he’s watching TV and massage thick layers all over his hands and fingers. And keep his hands in yours. He’ll completely forget and rub/wash it off.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshi’s long fingers easily wrap around your thigh. They rub and squeeze and, despite the roughness, feels pleasing on yours because of their weight. However, they are prone to shaking and weakness. His physical health may be the source, but his anxiety also causes trembling. Days when sleep is little and anxiety is high, it’s the worst. If you happen to notice it, don’t comment, just hold his hand for comfort.

His hands are just so big and beautiful. When he had his powers, his hands were rougher and dryer. He has calluses below the proximal interphalangeal joints (PIP). His index, middle, and ring finger are the worst ones. Dry, cracked skin surrounds them, stretching around and between each finger. Thick skin covers his upper palm.

Now that he isn’t working as a Hero, his hands aren’t constantly being beaten and cracked and torn, and have (somewhat) healed. He started using heavy-duty reparative lotion and the improvement is clear. His skin isn’t as cracked and rough.

The tendons in his hands and wrists are very prominent, especially on his dorsal side. The extensor pollicis brevis and longus are noticeable even when his thumb is resting. He also has a palmaris longus tendon that you can feel quite a ways down his forearm.

Toshi loves when you play with his hands- move his fingers, trace his tendons, kiss his knuckles, massage his palm, anything. Though his fingers are often cold. When he first reaches for your hand, it’ll jump you a little. At night, he’ll tuck his hands in your shirt or wrap you tightly in his arms to warm them up. On the plus side, he always wants to cuddle!

Yamada Hizashi

Hizashi’s palms aren't that big. It's made up for with his beautifully long, nimble, and agile fingers. His proximal and middle phalanges are elongated. They’re steady and dexterous, letting him handle tasks that require care and precision. And since his fighting style doesn’t call for his hands in any way, they aren’t all roughed up and dry.

He always takes care of his fingernails. They’re trimmed, the skin around them is perfect, they’re sometimes painted black or dark purple, and he likes wearing clean-cut, masculine rings. 

They’re fairly warm. His gloves help. If you’re ever stuck outside on a chilly night, he’ll take your hands and tuck them in his pockets with his hands. They’re so smooth and fluid as they rub yours. And at home, they give glorious massages, caressing and stroking everywhere.

From playing instruments, there are a few guitar calluses on his fingertips. They’re nowhere near as bad as the other guys' though. Along the same lines, aches and joint stiffness bothers him if he’s on a marathon playing piano and bass. You’ll have to step in and tell him to stop because he won’t want to, possibly hurting himself in the process.

Taishiro Toyomitsu

Big. Really big. Seriously, his palms are huge. Tai will pat your head and it'll feel like a book is being knocked against you. And, god, his fingers. They’re thick and solid and oh so delicate as he picks up tiny cupcakes. 

His flexion lines are deeper than average and there are a few calluses on his upper palms. It’s being cracked and dry he needs to worry about though. It doesn’t help that he’s always washing his hands because he goes from fighting to eating to fighting to eating multiple times a day. He could use lotion more often than he does.

Tai’s MCP joints are like Aizawa's, but his are a little more misshapen and damaged. His pinky’s warped outwards, pulling the skin tighter in that area. His middle finger’s bumps high and is sensitive to touch. Sometimes when his hand is overworked, his fingers won’t glide up and down naturally. It’s almost like they snap up and down instead. His metacarpals and muscles are often sore as well.

They definitely deserve pampering. Ice his wrists for fifteen minutes, then carefully massage his palms and knead his fingers. The popping and cracking don’t hurt him. It actually feels nice as the tension releases. A groan or two might slip out. After, he’ll want to repay you… using his fingers.

Gang Orca

They feel different because Kugo’s skin isn’t human, but it’s not a bad difference. He enjoys running his palm over your skin and it’s surprisingly soft considering his job. Seeing his huge hand on your stomach fuels something deep within him.

His fingers are long, his palms are big, and his joints are robust. His hands are just sturdy powerhouses. Finger pull-ups are no problem for him. Yet they’re still gentle in everything they do. 

Tendons on his dorsal side may not be able to be seen, but they definitely can be felt. Move his fingers around while stroking the back of his hand, and they’ll pull and constrict under your thumb. They’re just as strong as the rest of him.

Because of his mutation, he doesn’t have nails. His fingertips are pointer than an average human's, and he’s always been careful with them. As a kid, he scratched things a lot. Now, after years of training and bodily awareness, it rarely happens. But he’s still scared of scratching someone, specifically you and children.

Kugo’s skin doesn’t crack and peel. Although they do dry out and it’s painful. Lather his hands in body butter then put plastic gloves on him to keep the moisture close.

Hound Dog

Rough, calloused, thick, and firm- that’s not just Ryo’s personality but his hands too. His palms are calloused. His fingers are thick and firm and do damn near everything roughly. Papers crinkle when he picks them up. Pen and pencils break in half when he uses them. A few laptops and tablets have been busted from him grabbing them so hard. He could take a few pointers from Kugo on how to be gentle.

Under his PIP joints, there are rather severe calluses. They break open and bleed and regularly cause itchiness/pricking. Band-aids don’t last. Bandages get torn. One day you’re just going to have to wrap his fingers together and duct tape it closed to let his skin heal. He’ll bite the tape to get it off. Distract him with food or movies.

Hair comes from his arm up to the back of his hand with some dusting the tops of his fingers. His extensor digitorum tendons are handsomely raised with veins vining around them. They’re perfect for when you’re in the car and your thigh is begging to be squeezed, highlighting their size and strength even more. 

Even though Ryo’s nails aren’t actually pointy, they’re tough and durable, and if they hit you at just the right angle, they could easily puncture your skin, maybe take a tiny chunk out. He trims his nails to prevent them from hurting anyone. The second they’re five millimeters over, they’re clipped and filed down.