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spinchip · 1 year ago

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for the fic prompts- something about your hometown glory au maybe?

OOPS. 2300 WORDS.

There’s a dinner in the grand hall two days after they arrive on Chen's Island. Clouse had been the one waiting on the shore to welcome them to the tournament and explain that they would be given two days to settle in before the competition began, with the night of the second day an introductory dinner with Lord Chen himself. They had all jumped at the opportunity to experience the luxuries the palace had to offer before fighting against one another. Cole particularly loved the fully stocked mini-fridge in his room, packed full of all his favorite treats. He made sure to interact with the other contestants as well- know thy enemy, or whatever.

Jay had mostly left him to his own devices, following that girl Nya around like a lost puppy. Cole had known Jay long enough to understand his obsession with love- he wanted to be in love very badly, and Nya was just the newest target of his affection. Whether it would last remained up for debate.

Cole inexplicably found himself running into the ice master, Zane, a lot over the next few days. Zane tended to hover around Kai and Nya or Cole and Jay, when he wasn’t off on his own, but Cole always seemed to stumble upon him randomly in the halls. Sometimes, Zane would have this look on his face-not quite guilty, but like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been. Cole never asked why Zane seemed to be poking around the halls on his own, and Zane never explained. They ate all their meals together.

When Jay had squeezed himself into a seat next to Nya at the welcome dinner, Cole had hung back and sat with Zane and the kid, Lloyd. There were soft murmurs throughout the hall as they all anticipated Lord Chen's arrival. When Cole glanced over at Zane, the ice master was frowning softly, the barest hint of a crease between his brows. Cole felt a chill creep up his spine that had nothing to do with the other man's element.

Chen threw open the halls at the front of the room dramatically. He gathered himself to his full height and cleared his throat, a hush falling over the room, “All rise for Lord Chen.” He announced.

They all stood from their chairs respectfully, standing tall and squaring their shoulders as Lord Chen made his first appearance of the tournament. He wore long, expensive robes that billowed with every step. Delicate embroidery and beading catching and twinkling in the hall's warm lights. He was flanked on each side by several samurai in strangely shaped helmets and elaborately tattooed faces, each with a sword on their hip who marched in time. Several women fanned out behind him as well, their faces painted theatrically in swooping kabuki makeup. They fluttered forward to pull out Lord Chen's chair, others throwing themself forward to unlatch his fancy outer robe and remove it, revealing equally elaborate but more practical robes beneath. One woman hurried to fill his glass with water and his cup with tea, bowing as she stepped away from the table.

Lord Chen, in contrast to his neatly put together robes and serious air, was a scruffy looking man. His eyebrows and his mustaches were wild and unmaintained, the red makeup around his eyes applied sloppily- even the salt and pepper of his hair seemed to get the memo and came in in awkward stripes along his sideburns. “Sit.” He commanded, his voice rough and scratchy.

Cole sat along with the others. The Samurai fanned out across the room, looking intimidating and mean, but made no move to draw their weapons.

Lord Chen's face was kept in a neutral scowl, eyes narrowed and assessing as he raked them across the gathered crowd. Then, his lip twitched- and just like that, he gave up the act and grinned broadly. He threw his hands out, a new air of levity breaking through his serious act, “Welcome,” He shouted, “to the Tournament of Elements!”

He smiled, arms outstretched. A long moment of silence passed, no one knowing quite what to say. His smile never dimmed even as his arms dropped and he settled into his seat, “I am delighted to have you all here, in my home. Please, eat!”

The moment the words come out of his mouth, servants flood into the room each carrying trays of food and drink. They serve each of them a small appetizer dish artfully arranged on the plate. The dinner continues in a similar manner, with each consecutive dish brought out ceremoniously. It's easily the most expensive meal Cole has ever eaten, with puffer fish a delicacy he never thought he’d taste.

The dinner passes quietly. So quietly, in fact,that after the third course Chen himself scoffs, “No need to act so shy! You are my honored guests. You are permitted to speak freely!” He makes a shooing motion with a piece of sashimi in one hand, “Socialize!” He orders.

Hesitantly, chatter fills the room. Zane quietly instructs Lloyd on how to properly eat some of the more exotic foods on his plate, and Cole not-so-subtly eavesdrops and mimics him. He can hear the sound of Jay and Kai arguing down the table, which has quickly become a regular occurrence among the two.

“You have a beautiful home, Lord chen.” Neuro says politely.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Chen smiles, sipping his tea.

“It is,” Zane agrees, and his voice slices across the room as he directs his eyes to the head of the table, “I suppose it must be, since you cannot leave.”

Chen's easygoing smile freezes on his face. The room grows quiet and strangely tense, Cole shifting uncomfortable. Zane's eyes are that bright, intense blue, and all his attention is focused solely on Chen.

Clouse speaks next, recovering smoothly from whatever Zane had just implied, “Lord Chen has been well documented as a recluse, but this tournament is his return to the public eye. He has always been intrigued by the elements, and has chosen to face the world once more for the opportunity to see you all in action.”

It sounds like damage control. Chen is still smiling, but there’s something dark swirling in his eyes now.

“Of course.” Zane nods graciously, “It must be difficult to come out of hiding considering his role in-”

“What was your name again?” Chen interrupts abruptly, grin tight along the edges.

“I believe you know my name.” Zane responds neutrally, “You know everything about us.”

When Cole was younger, when he still lived with his father, he could always tell when his dad was angry by the way his lips pulled tight over his teeth. Like he was suppressing the urge to snarl. He always walked away then, leaving Cole to practice his fouette alone with his fathers disappointment hanging over his head. Chen has that same tightness around his mouth, but there's a fury to it that Cole can practically taste that hangs electric in the air.

“You are awfully presumptuous.” Chen says jovially, the sharp blade of danger brutally apparent to Cole.

Zane dips his head, “It was not my intention to offend,” He says, despite the fact that Cole is one hundred percent certain that was exactly his goal. He looks up and meets Chen's eyes, “My name is Zane. I am the master of Ice.”

“Ice.” Chen echoes, “Symbolizing stillness, coldness- the absence of love. Death, even. What an element to be saddled with, but it seems it fits you well.”

There’s something there Cole can’t pick up on, some uneasy threat. Chen continues, “Despite that, I still welcome you to my island and I am eager to see you fight in the tournament.”

Zane regards him quietly, “Thank you for inviting me.” He says evenly as dessert is served.

Chen turns away from Zane and stands, addressing the whole table warmly, “Never before have so many Elemental Fighters been under one roof. I see Master of Fire, Earth, Shadow, Speed, even a prophesied Green Savior.” His eyes linger on Lloyd before he moves on, “I must welcome you again to the Tournament of Elements! Here, we will pit you against each other in friendly combat to reveal which element rules over them all! The rules are simple. Every match will be different. No two fights will be the same. Your powers will keep you in the Tournament. Use it or lose it!”

Karlof rubs at his beard, “Hmm, What does Karlof win?” he asks with narrowed eyes. It seems Cole wasn’t the only one to pick up on Chens strange behavior towards Zane- in fact, most of the table looked uncomfortable and wary, now. Zane had revealed teeny pieces of fact about Chen he was trying to suppress. What was he hiding?

“Win and stay on the island. Win it all, and you'll receive fortunes beyond your wildest dreams!” He flings an arm out and one of the lush curtains to the side of the room is pulled aside by one of his woman servants, revealing stacks of cash that nearly reach the top of the vaulted ceiling. There’s a collective gasp through the room, and Cole can practically see everyone's suspicion fly out the window at the size of that prize, “-and lifetime supply of Master Chen noodles. But no one is here because of noodle. You want the glory of being the greatest fighter in all of Ninjago!”

Jay is practically drooling at the sight of the money, as are several of the others. Cole gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, but even he can’t shy away from a prize like that. Earth could win this thing- he could win this thing. He knew he could. Coming home with all that prize money… proving himself as ninjagos number one warrior… this was his chance to prove himself. Maybe then his dad-

A cold hand grips his bicep and Cole turns around to look at Zane, whose face is tense with worry.

Cole feels that same cold chill up his spine again.

“What happens if we lose?” Lloyds little voice pipes up, carrying ominously across the room.

Chen's smile grows strained again, but he doesn’t miss a beat, “Lose? Who here likes to lose?” A few of the others laugh at that, “Now please, enjoy my island. It's a super fun, happy place. Hahaha. Fun time on me! We will begin the first challenge of the tournament bright and early tomorrow morning!”

With that, he sweeps out of the room with a flourish. His servants and guards go with him.

Clouse stands as well, “Lord Chen formally requests you all retire to your rooms for the night.” He says bluntly, completely disregarding Chen's words not five minutes earlier, “We must prepare for the first challenge and that requires you all to stay in your rooms until morning. Our servants will escort you.”

As they are marched back to their rooms by several of Chens samurai, Zane stays close to Cole. It feels like a funeral procession.

“Cole, I have a favor to request.” Zane says quietly as they approach the rooms, the Samurai finally out of earshot.

“Uh, What is it?” He whispers back just as softly.

They arrive at Zanes door quickly and Zane barely has time to speak before the guards are ushering him away- he looks at Cole with those intense, knowing eyes and simply says, “I need you to find me.”

And then the door closes behind him with a finality, and the others are escorted to their rooms in similar fashion. Cole can barely sleep all night, but when he finally does doze off it feels like only a few seconds have passed before the rising sun cuts a path across his eyes and wakes him. He has a quick breakfast from his minibar and joins the meandering mass of contestants as they walk down to the grand hall once more.

Cole had been ruminating over Zane's request all night, trying to understand what he meant. Maybe he wanted Cole to stand with him this morning? He stands on his tippy toes and looks over the crowd, hunting for Zanes signature white hair. He frowns, turning around and looking behind himself too- where was he?

“Oof!” He grunts as Jay crashes into his side.

“Morning!” Jay greets with a grin, “How’d you sleep?”

“Not well.” Cole admits.

“Me neither! You know why? Because it occurred to me last night that Chen said there would be one winner last night- one!” Jay smiles with a manic edge, “Which means our genius team up plan is out the window. They’re gonna tear me apart!” He gestures at the others wildly, a few of them shooting him a weird look.

Cole snorts, “You’re the master of electricity, Jay. I’m sure you can hold your own.”

Jay throws himself onto Cole, gripping the collar of his shirt and sagging to the floor in anguish, “I’m going to die!”

The grand hall had been cleared of the dinning room table, the raised dais now the focal point of the room that Clouse was standing on as he waited for the last contestant to linger in. Clouse clears his throat, “Before Lord Chen arrives, I have some unfortunate news.” He clasps his hands together and summons an extremely fake looking frown, “Late last night, due to a family emergency, Zane chose to drop out of the tournament and leave the island.”

That cold chill is back. Zane didn’t have any family, that was one of the first things he’d told Cole.

I need you to find me.

“He is being transported back to the mainland by our ferry, which is our only way off the island. It will return in a few days, but for now that means we are unable to leave.” He says apologetically, “But I can ensure your accommodations here are more than adequate enough that you won’t want to go!” He says with a grin.

“Now, it is time for our first challenge: The hunt for the Jade blades. Lord Chen will explain the rules.” He says with a bow, graciously stepping aside so Chen can take center stage with his signature flourish.

Zane didn’t leave on that ferry.

Cole had a feeling no one would be leaving on that ferry.

#ninjago #zane julien #cole ninjago #hometown glory au #ninjago hometown glory #spinchip fic #jay walker #ninjago au

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ivystoryweaver · 4 months ago

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#oscar isaac #oscar isaac poll #dumb polls #ivy talks #sense or nonsense

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myaoiboy · 1 year ago

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Can you try explain what you mean about Ocelot looking like a drag king in mgsv? I feel like your boyfriend in that I just. Don't see it? I'm trying to understand why Ocelot would even have that applied when he's always been just A Guy™

Okay so I'm going to try to do this without getting into Grad-Level 5D Queer Theory Media Criticism, but I also fully realize that in doing that, a lot of this is going to sound very much like I'm saying "Source: Just Trust Me Bro".

(anon i am SO sorry that you happen to be the first person to directly adress me about gender in MGS)

I also wanna be straight up front here and say that I'm not trying to imply that Ocelot is anything other than a guy, he's just also a guy who's playing a million roles (this is important) and lying to damn near everyone, including himself. He has some of the worst identity issues I've ever seen in a character, and that comes to a head in 4 where he literally isn't even *Ocelot* until the final moments of his life. So yes, for the sake of not writing War and Peace, I'm going to assume Ocelot is "just a guy" and come at this from a pure queer theory/media analysis standpoint, not a headcanon one.

So first it's really important to point out the order in which we see Ocelot through the series. In the timeline, the last time we see Ocelot before V is 3 (or PO which I haven't played due to its placement in canon-limbo, but Ocelot looks basically the same). So we see him go from A to B here.

I am going to say something potentially controversial: even before saw V ocelot, I thought 3 Ocelot looked like he was wearing drag *queen* makeup. I don't know whether it's intentional, or an attempt to circumvent the lower poly models and lower definition textures of the PS2, but the first image looks like someone who is going for a highly exaggerated, feminine cheek contour. Here's a few drag queens who, imo, do a very similar contour look:

Whether the color filter or the texturing of the PS2 or something else, the MGS3 version of Ocelot also has a look of mascara and frosted lipgloss (frosted lips being much more popular at the time of MGS3's original release than today, but alas).

So from that I was already very much primed to look for femininity in Ocelot's whole vibe. It was actually kind of jarring how much more rugged he is in V than in any of the previous games, to the extent that it sent up alarm bells in my head that something was going on.

I don't remember the moment that I went "hey, wait a minute," but it was certainly pretty early on. As someone who's been on tumblr a hella long time and remembers when we used to swap passing tips, the specific combination of facial features remind me of a very specific genre of "ftm makeup tutorials" that were also pretty contemporarily popular on tumblr. A very quick summary being mascara on the eyelashes and specific peach fuzz to give the impression of a squarer jaw and having more facial hair, as well as specific contouring to give a "masculine cheekbone." Most of these tips basically came directly from drag king makeup.

Gonna include some drag kings as well, some things to notice include the tendency towards using stubble as contouring and vice versa, the shaping of cheek contouring, and the tendency to accentuate mustache and sideburns.

I'm pretty bad at wording descriptions of hair and makeup so you'll have to forgive me for not going ham on explaining the similarities bc now we actually get to the interesting part which is: so fucking what? If this is true, if you take my word for it, what does it say about the text? If I want to make this argument to someone else, what can I say that will convince them that, even if it's not *intentional,* it's a valid and meaningful view of his character?

Like, you can make a character based on anything you want, but why does it matter whether Ocelot is based on drag either direction?

Ocelot's "drag"iness is multipurpose. One: he's queer. Like, I grant that he never comes out and says "I love 'Big "Naked 'John' Snake" Boss'" but we get a hell of a lot more confirmation that he's gay than we get straight confirmation for a lot of presumed-straight characters. I feel comfortable saying he's canon queer.

Two: it's a visual metaphor for being a double/triple agent. While he's literally performing several roles (KGB/GRU/CIA, or MSF/Real BB/US, or US/Patriots/BB, or anything in between), he's also visually playing two (or more) gender roles, a feminine man, a mannish woman, something neither or in-between. The implication of drag specifically is pretending to be something that he isn't (which he literally always is, holy shit, again, does he even know who he realiy is?).

And before anyone says "Well, if it's so important to his character, why did they wait until 3 to start doing it?" They didn't!!

This is THE most classically masculine that Ocelot ever looks. But there's still precious polygons invested into giving him long hair and a flowing coat. Working with sprites and low-poly models means having to very carefully select traits that you want to display on your character, and Ocelot's go into making him a cringefail cowboy.

The fact that he's a cowboy in itself is also pretty important to the whole gender/sexuality situation. I mean, Brokeback Mountain might not have been out yet, but the male-to-female ratio in the west meant a lot of men cozied up together on the frontier. Hell, hankey code comes from cowboy culture, with men wearing certain colors to announce who would take the "man" or "woman" role while square dancing.

I could go a lot into gender and how it works on a social/societal level in general and why that matters, but OOPS I have been writing this for a WHILE.

I was actually going to go a lot more into queer theory and gender in MGS in general but ngl, I could write a whole doctoral thesis on gender and how different characters perform or subvert gender. Because holy shit when you start peeling back the very thin macho facade of Kojima's work to do a feminist reading of it, boy howdy do you get. A whole lot to talk about. (ask me about death stranding sometime i dare you)

Basically what I'm trying to get across is that Ocelot has a lot of roles that he's playing and NOT playing, and more than a few of those are gender roles, which is very much visually symbolic of his character.

I am so sorry anon I have been thinking about him nonstop for a full year </3 I hope at least the first part of this answered your question about what features I see that scream drag to me.

#also i want to be SUPER clear that transvestigating real people would be fucked up #its always morally correct to transvestigate revolver ocelot #mgs #mgsv #mgs3 #mgs1 #ocelotposting #revolver ocelot #my analyses #analysis or something

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nonotnolan · 2 years ago

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An Excellent Choice

Dedicated to my valentine, the lovely @mergeman

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

“You still sure you want to do this?” Brad texted. Finn had already spent most of the bus ride on his phone, so he’d already finished reading the message by the time his text notification had finished chiming. “It’s okay if you get cold feet. I won’t be offended. ;) I promise!”

Finn couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “sounds like ur the one w cold feet” he shot back. “i already told u were doin this” Granted, he would have been lying if he’d said that he had no fear... but Finn had worked through all of that hesitation when he purchased the bus ticket. He’d spent far too much time and money on this offer only to back out now.

Brad was offering $150,000 to a like-minded young soul who was willing to merge with him. The man was pushing 60, and was hoping to absorb enough youth to try life over again. For his part, Finn was sick of scraping by from paycheck to paycheck, and if that meant giving up 20 years of his life, well... at least he was being reimbursed for it. Five years of his current job’s wages was no joke, and the funds would go a long way towards buying a reliable car, and maybe even a down payment on a house.

And anyway, it wasn’t like he was going to disappear. Rather than opting for the type of merge that put two men into one body, this would be one of the more experimental versions where two people combine all of their traits, and each person becomes the average value. Finn stepped off the bus and started looking around the agreed-upon meeting place to see if the other man was here.

“Guess I’ll tell my bank not to stop that money transfer. I really didn’t think you were going to show up, but here you are.” He watched as an older gentleman strolled up to him, looking very out of place in dark navy sweats. More impressive was the raven black hair, which looked very out of place given his wrinkled skin and frail figure. “What, you’ve never seen a man desperately cling to youth with hair dye before?” he asked, clearly used to the stares. “We can’t all have vibrant hair color, Finley.”

“I’m used to your kind trying to over-compensate with fancy cars,” Finn admitted, unable to pull his eyes away from the older man’s thick beard. “And my name is Finn. Respect my name, and I’ll respect yours. Bradford.”

Brad threw his head back in raucous laughter. “Oh yes, you are an excellent choice. Come here!” Brad pulled him in close, and started to kiss him full on the lips. It took Finn a few moments to realize that the odd sensation in his mouth was Brad’s tongue, and a few more moments to realize that the kiss was how Brad was planning to perform the merge. His height was one of the first things to go-- he no longer needed to bend down to maintain contact-- and his skin felt a bit stiff as it tightened with age. But it was the beard that really felt odd.

Brad’s facial hair crept onto Finn’s chin and worked its way up his sideburns like some sort of crawling ooze, while a smaller tendril grew up toward his nose to form a mustache. The sudden itch of new hair under his nose was a bit much, and Finn briefly opened his eyes. The man in front of him was clearly a few decades younger, which could only mean he was now a few decades older.

“Just a bit more,” Brad said, panting for breath. “We need to even out our hair color, and I think our weight is still a bit uneven. Once we’re done we can stop by the courthouse and file all the paperwork.” Finn nodded in understanding, and leaned back in for another kiss.

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

“Is it normal for hair dye to completely vanish when a merge has finished?” Brad asked, as they sat in front of a mirror in the lobby of the County Recorder Clerk. “Our hair should be a combination of the two inputs, but it’s like your red hair and my former brown hair mixed together, rather than the deep black I was dyeing it to be once it started to go gray.”

Finn just shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know why you’re asking me. You were my first merge. I didn’t even really register that this was a technology that existed until you reached out to me. I’m just glad we just look like twins and not, like... cloned copies of each other.”

“I’m just glad I got to keep my piercings,” Brad said as he absent-mindedly traced the heavy stud with his finger. “Sorry if you didn’t want to deal with jewelry. Yours look small enough that it would probably heal shut in a few weeks.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it,” Finn admitted, still getting used to the idea that the man with the thick beard was his new reflection and his new body. “Do you think they would let us change our names when we register with the state? I really don’t feel like a Finley anymore.”

“I hope so,” Brad replied, following up with another deep laugh. “I was planning to change my name to Bradley. It won’t change my nickname but, it just feels right somehow. Like our names merged when our bodies did.”

Finn smiled. “I think you’re right. Finnegan sounds pretentious and borderline obnoxious, but... I also think that it’s my name, now.”

Brad responded by slinging an arm around his shoulder, giving Finn a supportive squeeze. “I think it’s an excellent choice.”

#male body merge #male body transformation #twinning

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skywarpie · 2 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/skywarpie/766523522384379904/kuzcosources-illness-sickness-starters-from

If you’re doing them

Rain carer choice. “You are sick, and I am taking care of you. You don't have a choice”

Copia “No, I'm not pregnant, I just have a stomach bug.” “Don't leave me alone.”

Illness/Sickness starters

Your wish is my command. 🫡

They'd been staring at him oddly recently. Not just a couple of them. No, all of them. It sit his nerves aflame. He felt fine. (He did feel fine, right?) He looked normal, maybe a little more tired but, normal. What if ghouls were like dogs who could predict illness? Oh fuck, was he on the verge of a stroke?!

Well, he was constantly stressed..No, he wasn't going to have a stroke.

Days turned into weeks and the staring got more and more profound. On top of that, anytime he tried to so something, one of them was stepping in and explaining that they should be getting it and he should just rest.

Cirrus had even scolded him for making a sandwich. A sandwich!

Copia knew he wasn't the most mentally stable, per-say, in the ministry. He had a tendency to fall into low ruts where it would take months to coax him from it. But that didn't mean he was incompetent! He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake.

It's when the fatigue and nausea hit that he knock on to his knees.

It had started as waking up early one morning.

He'd been styling his hair and making sure his mustache was all in line when the worst nausea he'd ever felt over came him. It forced him to grip the sides of the sink as he tried to breathe his way through it.

Easier said than done.

It had ended with him hugging the toilet and emptying the contents of his stomach. It was hard to tell how long he was there. Time tended to stop when you were busy puking.

The rest of the day he'd felt much the same. And the next morning. Then the next. And the next. Until finally he was sitting on his tiny mattress, head in his hands and legs stretched out across the floor.

As soon as Rain had seen him in his office like that he'd clearly boasted: "You are sick, and I am going to take care of you. You don't have a choice."

And so he was dragged back to his sad little room, with his sad little bed and sad little TV. He needed go get back to work but eat time he stood the world spun.

"Careful!" The water ghoul hissed as he wrapped protective arms around the Cardinal. "You will hurt yourselves."

Yourselves? Since when was he plural?

The look on his face must have read clearly because the ghoul cocked his head, eying him.

"If you don't take care of yourself, then you're not taking care of the kits."

"Kits?!" Copia had jostled his way free from Rain, trying to ignore the light headedness and panic that was quickly spilling over. "What in Belial's name are you talking about?"

Rain had stared at him long and hard. Almost like he was studying him to confirm an unknown question.

"You do not know?"

"Know what!? That I'm sick?"

Rain's eyebrows rose and then fell. "Kits." He reiterated, placing a hand on Copia's soft belly.

"Get off of me!" He had panicked, shoving the ghoul away and wrapping his arms around himself in hopes to quell his nerves. "I'm not -- No, I'm not pregnant. I just have a stomach bug."

Sure he still had all the working parts. As with everyone, their transition is different. Copia had considered top surgery, but needles worried him and besides, his upper half wasn't so big that he couldn't squeeze into a binder and completely ignore it.

Testosterone had done wonders with filling out his body, adding fat to all the necessary areas to give a fuller figure. He'd even been able to grow his little mustache and sideburns. Hell, he hadn't even had to worry about a period in nearly twenty five years. Yea, he knew hrt wasn't birthcontrol, but it hadn't failed him yet...until now apparently.

There was also the fact that he was in his mid forties. Not completely out of the window, but closer to the 'you will never have to worry about that again' period.

Thoughts consuming him, Copia had began to shake violently.

He'd always thought it'd be nice to have kids, but he never seemed to find a permanent partner until he met Aether and the others. Plus caring for a tiny human seemed fucking terrifying.

He'd watched from the corner of his eye as Rain made his way to the door.

"D-dont leave me alone." Copia hated the way his voice cracked but so many things were currently running through his head right now. If left alone, there was no clue what he'd end up doing.

The ghoul happily wrapped themselves around him, nuzzling his midsection fondly. "You did not know?"

Copia stared down with wide eyes. "Clearly not."

#the band ghost #okay to reblog i guess #skywarpie writes #i need a dad copia tag huh #cw pregnancy #this got a bit longer than i thought #but i love expanding on the lore 😊

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gepperl · 1 year ago

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TRANS MALE PASSING PROTIPS

Targeted specifically at trans men who have not begun medical transition, but for anyone. Of course, this is just what works for me and everyone is different.

Shorts that fall mid thigh and are baggy can work really well to make a more masculine figure. This is a trendy style with cis men, and if they are looser on your thighs you can look more rectangular. Basketball shorts are always fine, but for bigger people can end up sticking to your thighs and making you look like a masc lesbian. Looking like a masc lesbian is so so common guys this is what we are trying to avoid. See here for reference

2. WALK WITH YOUR SHOULDERS. Walk like your shoulders are the widest part of your body. Move them kinda forward and backward. Watch a video of a man walking next to a woman for context on what I mean. Women walk with their hips, and it makes all the difference for you in someone's head. Practice in the mirror before doing it so you don't look like a fool.

3. Hair!!!! I know you guys don't want to let go of the 2020 fluffy boi haircut and that is ok. If you don't want a skin fade short haircut, there are other options. Also, if you belong to a subculture, like punk/emo/whatever else there is, look at male styles as it can be very different than what is normally accepted ( for example, men have long hair in metal subculture, you can style it like them). In general, hair is very meticulous, as for some people too short is masc lesbian and too long is woman.

This kind of hair can do wonders. For men of color/curly hair people, if you are not out locs are a very good option as they are typically read as masculine but are gender neutral. Afros, braids, even skin fades with a lot of hair at the top can read feminine. Another style option could be short cornrows that end at the neck, twists, or a fade with less hair at the top like this.

I am not black, so I cannot speak for how this would be read in a black community, but this is how, from my experience, I would view the hairstyles. Sorry if this is not appropriate. Also, I am not here to tell you not to dye your hair. It can work if you style it with masculine clothes and are dressed in a specific style like emo or scene or something. Do what you will with that.

4. If there is ANY peach fuzz on your face, make the most of it. I know I have high testosterone levels naturally, so I grow facial hair a little, but if there is enough to dye it, dye it. If there is like barely any, if its not visible in the mirror if you're really looking (not INSPECTING), it's probably not worth it, and that is fine. use your judgement, and if it is not enough, just shave it. It's better to look clean shaven than desperate for face hair. Eyebrows, mustache hair, sideburns can all be darkened with eyeshadow, brow brushes, and just for men beard dye.

5. LAYERS. I know you guys have seen this one before. Flannels, button ups over black t-shirts, zip up hoodies. It might get a little hot, but it covers your sweat stains anyways. I promise guys it helps so much with shoulders, hips, boobs, it makes you look more masculine. Don't get that ugly ass red and black checkered one though. Think if you would see a masc lesbian wearing it and use your best judgement. I heart layers.

6. Pants. Woah. Pants. I HATE pants I know you fat trans men get me. Old navy women's jeans...and you guys won't like this one...are actually pretty good. SPECIFICALLY the sky high wide leg ones. Get those a size up and cuff them, wear them low on your waist, perfect. Other than that, jeans are shit. I don't really waste my time with men's pants anymore because of my hips but cargos are great, baggy sweats with the band at the bottom are great, PJ pants good, dress pants are a struggle but I've heard dickies work well for people with a smaller body. Not sure though. My tactic is I go to a thrift store for hours and try on all their pants, then find similar ones online or take pictures of the brand for the ones I like and find more.

7. Accessories and jewelry. Iffy. Anything you could describe as dainty, if it's not a family thing or important to you, probably not. Friendship bracelets are good, pendants are good, earrings depends on where you are and what you are wearing. Studs in men are common where I am, so I wear them. Observe the cis men at your disposal. Accessories, bags don't really matter unless they're like the strawberry hot topic mini bags. Don't get those at all those are fugly. Mini bags are not great in general, just better to get something else. Watches are heavily loved here they look very male and also you have the time always even a cheap watch is fine just not a woman's watch. It has to be a men's watch. You can tell when it is a woman's watch don't get those. Nail polish is fine no one cares, it's more popular now with boys. Especially if you're a little girly pop already. Of course that also depends on your environment.

8. Stance. Sitting with your ankle on your knee is comfortable and way more masculine than crossing your legs. Confidence. Fake it until you make it because cis men are so arrogant guys. This is what I mean btw

9. Don't be afraid of being feminine. Don't give up being yourself in order to be masculine. Your happiness matters the most. Love you bye, I'll update this if I think of anything else.

#transgender #lgbtq #lgbtq community #lgbtqia #trans rights #queer #ftm #passing #body positive #transisbeautiful #gender stuff #trans stuff #gender identity

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chirp-a-chirp · 1 year ago

Text

Court of Darkness: The Battle of Facial Hair*

*I wrote this story while hopped up on cold meds. So take this crack-fic with a grain of salt. Enjoy the horribly edited photo.

Description: A rumor spreads (from Vane knows where) throughout Saligia that a royal’s future prospects and strength can be determined by the amount of facial hair he possesses. How does this impact the princes?

Tags: Humor; crack; fluff; (brief mc mention using they/them pronouns)

Word Count: ~1250

…

GUY and TOA

Jasper receives a letter from the Avari royal court. He reads the contents to Guy.

Jasper: King Roc has grown a magnificent beard since you last saw him. The ladies of the court find his Majesty even more attractive than usual.

Guy: …

Guy: He has never lacked for female company.

Jasper: His Highness suggests you grow a beard as a sign of Avari strength.

Guy: *Scoffs* Suggests?

Jasper: Perhaps suggests is an inaccurate word. Here is the royal decree—you will begin growing your beard now.

Guy: Bah.

Jasper: Please tell me how a beard feels. I might endeavor to use one on my upcoming missions.

Guy: You’re enjoying my misery far too much.

Jasper: Impossible sir. *Smirks*

Two weeks later, Guy sports a very thick, luxurious black beard. It is neatly trimmed, complete with sideburns and mustache. As Avari fangirls oooh and aaaah over Guy’s facial locks in a hallway, Toa walks by.

Toa: How like Avari to be swept up by a rumor. Qelsum would never succumb to such a pathetic attempt at a power display.

Knight: Toa! Toa! An express letter has come from Qelsum!

Toa: *Reads letter, eyes widening ever so slightly. His eyes flicker to Guy and then back at the letter*

Toa: …the royal court cannot be serious.

Guy: What was that about pathetic power displays mongrel? Heh Heh Heh. *Walks away*

Within the next few weeks, Toa has a long, thin, deep blue goatee. The Qelsum royal court feared the consequences of Guy displaying a full beard without a Qelsan counterpoint—and as this display did not involve a direct magical competition against Avari, the Qelsan court insisted Toa grow out his own facial hair.

As much as Toa does not want to admit it, the goatee does have advantages. His chin and upper lip were much warmer with a layer of hair covering it; dignitaries were in such awe at the power conveyed that numerous agreements advantageous to Qelsum were given; and teaching had become easier as his goatee conveyed an air of authority that made even the most unruly students obedient.

The fangirls for Toa and Guy are louder than usual, all insisting THEIR prince had the more magnificent facial hair. Clearly, the fullness and thickness of Guy’s beard conveyed his superiority—no, no, the Toa-sters insisted, Toa’s long beautiful goatee showcased Qelsum’s might better. Guy and Toa grumble at the comments and at one another frequently, both embarrassed at the farcical turn the situation had taken. But until their kingdoms release them from their hairy obligation, the facial hair remains.

MC: What IS it with people’s obsession over size?

Fenn: It’s not the size that counts Treasure. It’s how you use it.

Speaking of how you use it…

FENN and ROY

Fenn: I say Roy, you’re not participating in this facial hair competition?

Roy: Why, no. I prefer the clean-cut look. It suits my purposes.

Fenn: *Smirks* You can’t grow a full-beard, can you?

Roy: *Smiles bigger* I did not say that, Master Fenn.

Fenn: You didn’t have to Roy.

Roy: And is there a reason why you’re only growing a mustache?

Fenn: It suits my purposes equally well. Or so I’ve been told. *Wink*

Fenn grows a long twirling lavender mustache. The mustache, while not particularly full, has the remarkable ability to grow and shrink several feet at Fenn’s discretion, like magical retractable hairy vines. It becomes an extension of Fenn himself—for better and worse.

Female student one: My date with Prince Fenn was absolutely divine!

Female student two: So was mine. A night with Prince Fenn is like being caressed with two sets of arms!

Fenn: Are you two comparing notes? May I join you? *His mustache elongates and tickles the ear of each student*

Students: Oooooh!

Roy is incapable of growing a full beard. He CAN, however, maintain a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. This beard stubble is very light in color—so light, it can only be seen if one were mere inches from his face. Roy uses this fact to his advantage.

Roy: Did I miss a spot while shaving Heartspell? *Nuzzles his face against MC’s cheek and neck*

MC: Roy! I’ve told you that tickles!

Roy: Yes, your point being…? *Continues to nuzzle their increasingly red neck*

MC: I didn’t want to resort to this, but these are MY leg hairs…

Roy: Oh you are quite the devious little…*starts laughing as MC lifts the fabric up from Roy’s pants and rubs their leg against Roy’s exposed shin*

Grayson walks up to Roy’s door. Upon hearing dual voices laughing from within, he turns to the diplomat next to him. “My apologies, it appears Prince Roy is indisposed.” Grayson barely withholds the word AGAIN.

RIO and LYNT

Rio, Lynt, Sherry, and MC eat in the dining hall. Sherry asks if Rio and Lynt intend to grow out their facial hair.

Lynt: *Shrugs* It’s too much a bother. I am a Prince whether there is or is not hair on my face.

Rio: Nope. The only hair that grows on me and my dad is on our heads. Not that it makes a difference—dad’s the best king there is!

Sherry: You two are the only ones that show any common sense.

Rio: Roy’s an S:Rank and he doesn’t appear to be taking this rumor seriously.

MC: *Rubs their neck, muttering* Yeah, APPEARS.

Knight ambles over with a tray of food. Suddenly, he jumps in the air.

Knight: OI! Keep your hands off me you—! *Rubs his backside*

Fenn: *Smiles cheekily while retracting his mustache* My hands didn’t touch you, did they, dear Knight?

LOU and the PRINCES

Lou summons the princes to his office. Guy and Toa glare at one another miserably while scratching their faces. Fenn twirls one side of his mustache while lightly massaging Lynt’s hair with his other mustache half.

Lou: I suppose you all would like to know who has won my facial hair competition.

Guy: *Eyes widen* …

Toa: YOU started this ridiculous rumor?! *Lou’s familiars, Phinny and Nix, resignedly nod their feathered heads*

Lou: I have written to each of your fathers to announce the winner—

Rio: Wait, where’s Lance?

Toa: He hasn’t shown up to class for days.

Lou: The winner of this contest is—*at this precise moment, Lance casually enters the office* Master Ira!

The princes stare in bewilderment as Lance opens the door. He hasn’t been seen in four days, but in that short time he has gone from clean shaven to a full dark purple lumberjack-style beard. Lance has spent the past few days with the child Christoph. He’s just arrived from reading Christoph a series of Saligian fairytales—including a reenactment of the brave woodsman (complete with full beard—grown to amuse the boy). Lance reveals none of this as he glares at Lou.

Lance: What utter rot. *Leaves and closes the door*

Lou: Oh well, I’ll give him his prize later. *Turns to the other princes* As the contest has ended, I’ve informed the kings you no longer need to participate if that is your desire.

Guy immediately removes his beard with magic, muttering “Ridiculous.” Toa sighs deeply and leaves without another word. As the other princes leave, Lou calls out.

Lou: Master Invidia! MC has been sporting high collared shirts as of late. Have they caught a chill? The visiting diplomat was quite worried on their behalf.

Roy: *Smiles* Rest assured, I will take care of them.

#court of darkness #otome romance #fluff and crack #crack fanfic #otome game #otome #guy avari #toa qelsum #roy invidia #fenn luxure

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purplebass · 2 years ago

Note

congrats on your new milestone 🎉🎉 Don't know if you still take requests, but if you do, can I request a free card on Wessa or Jessa or Herongrastairs. you chosse 💖

Thank you very much! 🥹✨😺

And this is for you <3 It isn't set during a specific time. Let's say it's between TID and TLH. It's mainly Wessa, but a lot of the TID characters appear and help solve the plot. I hope you like it! 💖

Read on A03

To Beard, Or Not To Beard

One day, Will decides to grow a beard.

Will Herondale liked to change style every once in a while. He wasn’t the type of person to follow fashion – it moved too fast for his liking – but somehow, thanks to his tailor Lemuel Sykes, he was able to stay updated with the latest trends.

“You know, Mr. Herondale, there’s something missing in your style,” the tailor mused one afternoon, admiring how the black velvet made Will’s eyes pop. “Especially with this outfit you’ve requested. And the coat.” The suit wasn’t finished yet, and it was meant for a masquerade ball that would be in a month away at the London Institute.

“I’m curious, please tell!” Will said enthusiastically, always looking for fashion advice. “Perhaps it’s a hat? A scarf? A bowtie? I will have to attend the ball –”

“A beard,” the werewolf replied bluntly. “You should grow a beard, why haven’t you? With those cheekbones and those eyes…” he sighed. “It’s very fashionable among people your age. Plus, you’ve shown me the photograph of the character you’re impersonating at this ball. The fella has a beard.”

Will didn’t seem too sure. “I’ve never grown a beard, it’s a hassle when you eat. I thought I could still do the costume without,” he frowned. “And I wonder if my wife will like it?”

“Then ask her,” Lemuel turned away, checking some brocade fabric on a chair. “But, if you ask me, I’d say yes,” he chuckled, then disappeared into the adjoining room and Will knew he was dismissed.

He thought about the beard on the way home. Sykes was right. The character he was going to go dressed as at the party had a beard, a medium beard, at that. Would it be the same without the beard? Probably not. He used the disguise the invisibility rune gave him, to stare at the mundanes minding their business in the busy streets of London. He was fascinated with how many different kinds of beards people could wear, and he told himself he could try growing a beard too. After all, what impersonation would be credible without such a signature feature?

First, though, he wanted to hear other people’s opinions about the topic. “What do you think about beards, Tess?”

Tessa sat at the vanity in their bedroom brushing her hair, and she stopped for a moment to glance at him from the mirror in front of her to answer him. “Well, it depends on the beard. Which beard are you talking about? Sideburns? Mustache? Van Dyke?”

“A nice one that won’t make one look like a rascal or like a grandfather,” he replied, checking himself in a small mirror he had on the nightstand. “Something not too excessive.”

“Are you thinking of growing one, Will?” she inquired, a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Would you hate it if I did? The tailor suggested it, and I never thought about it until today,” he revealed. “I thought I could grow it in time for the masquerade party.”

Tessa mulled over it as she walked to the bed, after tending to her long brown hair. “I don’t think I would hate it, but it’s your decision to make,” she sat down next to him. “I think you would be handsome with a beard too, but,” she sighed, and drew in a long breath.

“But what? Perhaps I would look ancient?” he wondered. “Maybe I shouldn’t indulge in this. The costume would be good even without the beard.”

“Quite the opposite,” she studied him, tracing his face with her finger, stopping on his chin. “I think you would look even more desirable than you are now. People would covet you even more.”

“Covet? I think that some would mock me, that’s for sure,” he took hold of her hand and kissed it. “I would only rethink this if you found me obnoxious.”

“Then you’re set? You’re getting a beard?” Tessa questioned with interest. “In case you don’t like it anymore, you can still shave it.”

“I hereby declare,” he stated with a firm voice, “that I’m going to grow facial hair. This is my final decision, Your Honor.”

It didn’t take long for friends and family to acknowledge Will’s new style, even when his facial hair was barely a five o’ clock shadow.

“Have you been on a trip recently, Will?” his sister Cecily asked him a few days after he had made his decision. “Or maybe you are sick?”

“The answer for both is no,” he folded his arms on his chest. They were waiting for the tea and the scones to arrive. “Why do you think that?”

His sister glanced at her husband, who sat beside her, and she bit her lip. “Because of the thing on your face, Will,” Cecily answered, stifling a laugh. “Have you lost your shaving set? I didn’t know you fancied this style.”

“Well, what if I did, Cecy?” he peered at Gabriel, noticing that he was smiling too. “If Gabriel got a beard one day, would you kick him out of the house?”

“I would not, under any circumstances, get a beard,” Gabriel declared firmly. “I don’t want to look older yet, nor does it suit me.”

Will opened his mouth in disbelief. “Then it means you tried once! Too bad I wasn’t there to witness,” he said, and Gabriel rolled his eyes, hinting that he was probably right.

“Too bad we are here to witness it,” he echoed, and Cecily couldn’t stop laughing until they left.

Two weeks later, the stubble had grown so much it looked more like a serious beard. “You can barely see my skin underneath,” Will told himself while looking in a mirror in his office.

“Will, we’re here,” Charlotte announced herself and Gideon, who needed to visit the Institute for bureaucratic matters. “By the Angel,” she gasped when Will turned, a hand placed on her chest. “I thought it was Maurice Bridgestock for a second.”

“I can’t believe you’ve just compared me to that sick rat, may he rot in hell,” Will sneered, adjusting some documents on the desk. “I see you’ve noticed my beard, or what is truly beginning to resemble one,” he scratched his chin proudly.

“It’s impossible not to notice, Will,” Gideon commented sourly. “Did you make a bet with someone?”

“Why do you all think I made bets or I am unwell,” he shook his head, trying to find a pen. “Even your brother and my sister believed the same thing. I don’t think I am that predictable.”

“You’re right, you’re not predictable,” Charlotte agreed, “but you’re also someone who keeps his promises, when they lose bets with random people in town.”

“Unlike someone,” he stared directly at Gideon, “I always pay my debts.”

“Who did you pester this time?” Gideon wondered instead.

“I did not pester anybody, Mr. I pretend I don’t owe Will a few pounds,” he glared at his friend, who pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “I chose to grow this because I wanted a change and because of my costume for the masquerade party.”

“Are you going to dress up as Frederick Barbarossa? Because if so, I suggest to use red dye –”

“Please, do not give him ideas, Gideon,” Charlotte frowned, her voice laced with worry. As if there was something to be worried about.

It was just a beard.

Will wondered why everyone wasn’t taking him seriously, but he had expected it. He took a few days to get used to his fresh appearance as well, but after a while, he believed the beard made him look powerful. He thought himself a Roman hero who, stranded in another country, was fighting a war for his Empire and was hoping to survive. A hero from another period, one who couldn’t have possibly shaved because there wasn’t the time. At least, Jem liked it. Or so, he thought. When they met, he stopped in his tracks before he could come closer to Will. He took it as a sign that he was deciding whether or not it suited him.

I see you changed your style, Jem told him. Change is good, but not for good.

“Do you like it?” Will showed him the sides, but Jem didn’t say anything. Cryptic as ever. Perhaps he was just speechless. Either because the beard blinded him, or because it disgusted him.

He hoped people in the London Enclave would fear him more with this new imposing look and not mock him like his friends did. He was aware that people talked behind his back. Either way, the beard had a purpose, he did not care what anyone thought. Nor did he mind what his son and daughter thought. His mustache was growing, but for his costume, he had to grow it a little more.

“Can I write a character who looks like you? A pirate who is earthsick and who is feared among the seven seas,” Lucie studied him, taking notes.

“An earthsick pirate? Does that word even exist?” Jame scrunched his nose. “Papa, I think you look weird,” he confessed. “But you also remind me of someone.”

“Write whatever you want, Lucie,” Will conceded. “Who do I remind you of, Jamie? Let’s listen,” he tilted his head on the side, “a hero? A Romantic poet? I will tell you who I’m going to dress up as at the ball, if you guess correctly.”

James couldn’t recall the face, and why he looked so familiar. Only when his father left, he remembered the picture of the man who resembled Will with the beard. He’d seen it in the newspaper a lot recently. It was the photo of the heir apparent to the British throne.

The day of the masquerade party finally arrived. Will's beard resembled the one of his original inspiration after a month, and he was beyond himself with excitement for the ball because he couldn't wait to show it off.

“The resemblance is close,” Tessa observed, stroking her husband's beard. “And I like facial hair, it’s so soft to the touch. I may grow attached to it.”

“Then perhaps I should keep it for a while,” he stated. He will think about it after the party. “Let’s go get the rest of my costume before it's too late. The party is going to start soon.”

When Will tried the rest of the costume, the tailor couldn’t help but admire his handiwork. Sykes finished the suit a week prior. It already waited in the closet of Will and Tessa’s bedroom at the London Institute, and he couldn’t wait to wearing it.

“I admit, Lemuel, that your work is astounding,” Will commented, moving from left to right to look at the waist-length velvet coat with a row of gilt buttons on the front and gold embroidery on the cuffs. “It is identical to the one he wore in the newspaper.”

“Thanks, Mr. Herondale, but you know that I’m the best,” Sykes offered a smile as he adjusted the coat on Will. “And you’re one of my best clients, and one of the most handsome,” he winked, but Will only wanted to know Tessa’s opinion.

“How do I look?” he asked, but his wife’s grin and her sweet and lovely eyes were already telling him what she thought.

“You are very handsome, indeed,” she said, and moved in front of him to fix the lapels of the coat, but to also steal a caress on his cheek. “I can’t wait to wear my dress so we can match.”

The tailor sent them away because he was running late, and Will and Tessa hopped on their carriage to go back to the Institute.

“My desire for tonight is that our family and friends will like this party,” Will said later, when they were seated in the comfort of the carriage. “And I hope that they come dressed as famous characters as we requested. Otherwise, what kind of masked party is it?”

“They will, I made sure to specify that in the invitations, don’t worry,” Tessa said. “I wrote that they should be dressed as a person from history.”

“Do you think they’ll get the assignment? Sometimes I think that –” The carriage abruptly came to a halt, and the jolt pushed Will and Tessa against the upholstered seats. They glanced at each other, both startled but otherwise unbothered. “Are you okay?” Will asked his wife, his hands on her shoulders protectively.

Tessa nodded. “Yes, I’m fine, simply shaken by whatever blocked our path,” she told him, her heart beating loudly in her chest out of stupor. “Should you check?”

“We’re not moving yet,” he observed, his head tilted toward the window in hopes to hear sounds of whatever ruckus had stopped the carriage. “Maybe it’s just a mouse, Balios is scared of them,” Will mused, “but I should check the horse nonetheless, in case it sprained its leg.”

“It’s better if you do,” she agreed, although she wasn’t sure why she felt a wave of uneasiness crawl down on her spine. A sensation she couldn’t put off after the carriage had halted. “Just,” she cautioned, resting her hand on his shoulder, “be careful. It could be a demon. Evening fell, after all.”

Will’s expression softened. “I will come back before you know it, fy nghariad,” he kissed her lips briefly. “I won’t let any mouse nor demon stop me from attending this party,” he offered her a smile. “Stay here,” he told her at last, before he came out of the vehicle to see if everything was really fine.

Tessa waited sixty seconds. If everything was fine, Will would come back inside before time was up, she told herself. He wasn’t the type of person who would want the people he loved to worry, and he had been excited for days on end for this party. She knew he wouldn’t want to lose time to get ready and for the celebration to start.

She counted silently in her head, but she came out of the carriage before she got to thirty. She should’ve come out of the carriage when he did, she chided herself. If her husband protested, she would say she wanted to make sure everything was okay. She didn’t need any excuses for wanting to check on her husband, when all she heard after he exited the carriage was silence. I didn't hear your voice and came to check, that would be her excuse.

She thought there was an explanation for silence, the carriage was, after all, driven by Balios alone. When she came outside, though, that feeling of agitation crept in her stomach again. The street was peaceful and lonely, a sign that most of the shops had already closed for business for the day.

She would take even the smallest sound as a sign that Will was where he told her he would be, but when she got to the horse, she found it waiting by itself. He grunted when it saw Tessa. “Balios, where is Will?” She asked the horse, knowing that it would understand. It bobbed its head as if bothered by something, which made Tessa notice there was a handkerchief on the muddy cobblestones. It was Will’s, she would recognize it anywhere. It had his initials sewn on the bottom left in dark blue. She wondered where its owner was.

Tessa looked around, her heart beat louder than after the shock of a few minutes ago. Her heart protested that Will wasn’t there, there was no one there but her and the horse. She didn't know what to do, and she didn’t want to lose control. She couldn’t lose control. They had been married for years, it wasn’t the first time they found themselves in such circumstances. It wasn’t the first time they lost sight of each other, and then found each other again.

The first thing, the easiest thing she could do immediately, was screaming his name to the empty street around her. No one answered, but at least she had tried. But she had to try harder, otherwise – she didn’t want to think about it. She would find him, and they would go to the masquerade party together, just like they had planned. She tried not to panic. She needed help.

She knew that the masquerade party would start any moment, and that even without them, Lucie and James would greet their friends and family in their stead. She shook her head and scoffed. It wasn’t the time to think about the party, but the party was probably the only place she should go asking for help. Thus, she got on the front of the carriage with a new resolve and ordered Balios to take her to the London Institute, hoping to get a helping hand or two.

As she suspected, a few carriages were already parked outside of the Institute when she arrived, and a few more were on their way behind her. She spotted her best friend Sophie coming out of one that had just stopped near the steps with her husband, both of them wearing a mask, and she ran to her frantically.

“Tessa,” Sophie acknowledged when she looked up after descending her family carriage. “What happened? You are in distress,” her brows knotted with worry.

“I’m coming from Kensington,” she started, “we were ambushed.”

“What? Who ambushed you? Was it a demon?”

Tessa tried to keep calm, but it was impossible. “I don’t know,” she said desperately, as Sophie held her hands, “we were coming from the tailor when the carriage halted. Will came out to check if the horse was hurt, and then I didn’t find him outside anymore.”

“Wait, what? Did they take Will?” Gideon asked. In the meantime, Gabriel and Cecily also arrived and joined their little group. They also wore masks and fancy dresses. “Who could have done this?”

“He has a lot of haters,” Gabriel said, trying to be funny, but Cecily elbowed him in the stomach and tried to comfort Tessa. “I mean, it’s true.”

“I don’t think it was someone we know,” Tessa replied sullenly, trying to gather her thoughts. “I didn’t hear any sound, and it couldn’t have been a demon. It wouldn’t have vanished just like that.”

“What’s this?” Sophie asked, seeing that Tessa had something in her hand.

Tessa showed them the customized handkerchief she found on the scene. “We can try using a tracking rune, can't we?” she wondered. “That’s why I came here and I didn’t go after him by myself.” I can’t do anything with my powers, she wanted to add, but she didn’t want to sound more desperate than she already was.

“It’s better that you came to us,” Cecily said. “If someone took him, they could’ve taken you too.”

“Cecily is right, it’s better that you alerted us,” Gideon nodded. “This way, we have better chances to safeguard ourselves when we find him, and to get him out of wherever he is. We don’t know who kidnapped him.”

“Do you think they kidnapped him, then?” Gabriel wondered.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Tessa affirmed firmly, offering the white cloth to whoever was willing to draw the rune that could help them find him.

It was Cecily who took the kerchief. “I’m coming with you, that’s for sure,” she glared at Gabriel, who didn’t seem too bothered.

“We’re all coming with you,” Sophie added, squeezing Tessa’s hand.

Cecily finished the true north rune by then, and it started pulsing. She felt an electric current running through her, then she started to move towards the gate, letting the rune lead her where to go. The five of them followed her, and they went back to Kensington, from where Tessa came. She realized they were approaching the exact place when the carriage had halted, and was about to tell her friends, when Cecily stopped as well.

“It led here” she informed the group, glancing at the tall building in front of them. It was a bakery, and Tessa remembered it was already closed for business when she and Will passed.

“How can it be,” Tessa sighed, “this is where they ambushed us. How can he be here?”

“They could have taken him inside of this shop. It would be the perfect decoy,” Sophie commented.

“Maybe the shop has a basement,” Gabriel added, looking closely. “A lot of these shops have them. They have kitchens where they prepare bread and other pastries, so they don’t need to get the product from a seller.”

“How do you know that, Gabriel?” Cecily seemed impressed. “I think we should open the door and get inside, just, you know, to check. It won’t hurt.”

“We can use an open rune,” Gideon agreed. “This way, the owner won’t know that we entered his shop. Even if he discovered us, we shouldn’t care,” he shrugged. “The tracking rune took us here, which means that he should be inside of this building.”

Sophie, who was closer to the door, drew the open rune. Before entering, everyone but Tessa drew a silent rune to avoid being heard. It would be useful to be noiseless, but everyone did what they could, and she was doing her best. They found the door that led to the basement behind the counter, and one after another, they descended the stairs. She hoped that Will was there, otherwise, she would have to find him in other ways.

When Will came to, his head was pounding. He slowly opened his eyes, adjusting fast to the darkness of the room, the only source of light coming from a row of windows at the top of the wall he was facing.

He faintly remembered what occurred before he woke up in that place.

He remembered that today was the day of the masquerade party they organized at the Institute. He also recalled that his tailor Lemuel Sykes had made him the perfect costume, and that he and Tessa, his beautiful wife, went to get it before the party would start. Then, he remembered the jolt. The carriage halted in the middle of the road, he got out to check what was wrong, but someone came from behind. Lastly, he remembered the acrid smell of a substance, and darkness following.

Tessa. Where was she? Was she with him?

He scanned the room in search of his wife. He thought whoever took him prisoner might’ve taken her too, but he was alone. He was relieved, at last, but what if they took her somewhere else? He tried to free his hands, but they were tied behind him. Unluckily for the wretches who were holding him hostage, he knew how to free himself from ropes.

“I wonder how much he’ll take to wake up,” he heard someone say behind his back, footsteps approaching.

He started untying himself nonetheless, trying to be as silent as he could. He saw the faint shadow of a person on the wall. They brought a gas lamp or perhaps a candle in the room, and he realized they were indeed in a basement. A kitchen basement, to be precise. There is a bakery store in Kensington, he thought, maybe I am closer to home than I think.

“The effect of the chloroform lasts for half an hour only,” another one replied. “I think.”

“What you goin’ to do when he wakes up, duh? Just threaten the royal family that we got this lad, and they, ugh, give us money?”

“I thought we talked about this,” a female voice said, “yes, we are going to threaten the royal family. We are going to send a letter saying we have his royal highness the Prince of Wales George, and that if they want him back, they need to give us 5,000 pounds.”

“They really gonna give us that, Emy? They would want to see he is the right fella,” the guy huffed. “We sure this lad is this George heir?”

“Of course we are,” the lady, Emy, answered with confidence. “Didn’t you see him trying on that royal costume at the tailor shop? I’m positive it’s him.”

Someone snorted, and he heard footsteps. “I don’t know, I believed his hair was lighter, judging from the photos in the newspapers, y’know.”

“You know nothing, Danny,” Emy spat. Will thought she was the boss here. Interesting. “Let’s see if he wakes up, shan’t we? It’s going to be a long night.”

Will knew they were coming to see him now, and he wasn’t afraid. He was a shadowhunter, and these three – he imagined it was three of them, judging from their voices – were mundanes. Unless they used deathly weapons on him, he was sure he could best them and come out of that basement unscathed. Or so he hoped. He had been hoping too much lately, but it didn’t hurt to hope more. Hope was free, and so he would be, in a few minutes’ time.

He had already untied his hands while they were talking, but he didn’t remove the ropes just yet. When he heard them approaching, he closed his eyes, pretending to be unconscious.

“Still sleeping, I’ma afraid,” one of the men said, kicking one of Will’s feet. “Should we wake him?”

“Suit yourself,” Emy said. Her voice seemed further than her sidekick. “But be quick. I’m starving. Let him confirm that he is who he is.”

“Should I call him your majesty?”

“No, call him jolterhead,” she suggested. “He’s not a majesty yet, you idiot.”

The man cleared his throat. “Yo’, jolterhead! Wake up!”

“Danny!” Emy chided, stomping her feet on the wooden floor. “I didn’t mean it literally, you stupid!”

Will decided that was the time to act. He opened his eyes at once and freed himself of the ropes around his hands, but he did not discard them – they could be useful as he found out that they took all his weapons. Emy and the sidekick were still arguing when they realized he freed himself and got up from the chair.

“Danny, get him!” but Danny was not very fast, and when Will kicked him between his legs, he crumpled to the floor crying, and then ran away from the room altogether when he realized things could get messy. “Useless piece of trash,” Emy said, irritated. “I didn’t know princes of Wales could fight,” she looked left and right for the other sidekick, but he was nowhere in sight.

Will grinned devilishly, the rope tight in his hands. “I didn’t know people could be so daft, either,” he commented. “Mistaking random people from Wales to be princes,” he snorted.

“And you’re a good actor, too,” she clapped her hands. “It’s useless to lie, you highness.”

“It’s useless to kidnap innocent people who know how to fight, too,” he echoed. Emy unsheathed a knife from her coat, and she aimed at him, but Will dodged her easily, using the rope as a means to shield himself. “And you also stole my knives, thief!” Will said, trying to get it back, but the woman wasn’t bad at protecting herself.

“I steal whatever I want,” she tried to elbow him, but Will anticipated her moves, swift as an arrow. They kept this dance for a while, until Emy’s knife cut the rope in two, rendering it useless. Will frowned, fuming. He glanced around for a makeshift weapon, but the closest object available on the kitchen counter that he could have gotten was still too far from him. Emy took advantage of Will’s distraction and grabbed his beard, pinning him to the wall, the knife she was holding dangerously close to his throat. “What, now? Cat got your tongue, prince?”

Will grunted. He felt the blade of the knife she stole from him graze his skin. It was a runed knife, but still, it was a knife all the same, and if he wasn’t careful –

Everything happened fast. “Bloody hell!” Emy cried in pain. Will barely registered a knife hitting his captor’s hand. She let go of his beard because of the shock, and the knife she was holding clattered on the wooden floor. He took the chance to stomp on her hand with his foot, he didn’t care she was a mundane. She was still a mundane who tried to murder him. Emy helped, but at least she was sedated. She cried in pain, holding her bruised hand in her other hand.

Will gazed up, trying to see whether the person who threw the knife was a friend or a foe, and he beamed when he realized who was at the bottom of the stairs.

“Tessa!” he called, but it was short lived.

“Will, behind you!” she shouted, and he turned just in time to dodge a blow by the third sidekick, elbowing him in the stomach. The man fell on the floor unceremoniously.

“What a pest!” he exclaimed loudly, hearing Emy cry in the background. “Serves you well, thief. I should call the police, should you kidnap the real prince George. But unfortunately, I have a party to attend.”

Everyone but the kidnappers either rolled their eyes or chuckled.

They got back to the Institute using the Lightwood’s carriage, which was too small for six, but they had to make do. His sister Cecily, along with Gabriel, sat in the driver’s seat, while Sophie and Gideon sat with Will and Tessa inside the carriage.

Will explained what happened after he woke up, after he had fainted because of the chloroform. They tried to be ironic and say that it was the beard who got him into trouble, but Will brushed it off as being in the wrong place, at the wrong time. And having the wrong costume. His friends didn’t seem so sure but it didn’t matter. Then Tessa explained to him how she found his handkerchief and how their friends helped her track him.

“I let it fall when I realized someone was behind me,” Will said. “I knew it would be useful. And it was,” he glanced at Tessa first, then at his friends. “Thank you all for helping Tessa.”

They returned to the Institute, and the party was still in full swing, and it would be for a couple of hours still. The Lightwoods took leave once they got inside, claiming they needed a drink in order to refresh. Will couldn’t blame them. They had, after all, helped Tessa with the True North rune, and it was thanks to that, that they had found him. They deserved anything they wanted, and more.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs and rest, my darling? You’ve had quite the day,” Tessa said, lingering outside of the doors of the ballroom, where everything was quieter. “You must be tired.”

“Shouldn’t we also call Jem to check on my health?” he wondered sarcastically, but Tessa frowned disapprovingly. “I’m sorry, Tess. I didn’t mean to brush off your suggestion, but I think I should stay. I really wanted this party, and the only way for me to distract myself from my misadventure is living the party.”

Tessa wasn’t convinced, and he suspected that was the reason why she kept in the alcove close to the ballroom but making no move to walk over there. “What if they drugged you? Maybe we should call Jem, you know,” she bit her lip nervously, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Tess. Tess. Tessa,” he smoothed her cheek with his forefinger. “My love, don’t cry,” he grabbed her, and she held the back of his vest in her fist as she sobbed quietly.

He let her vent until she had enough, his hand caressed her back to calm her down. “I hate this beard,” she muttered.

Will chuckled softly, holding his wife’s body closer to his. “You know what, I dislike it too.”

“Then why did you grow it?” Tessa asked, gazing up into his blue eyes.

He mused about it for a moment. “First, because Sykes’ suggestion wasn’t bad. I never tried growing one, and I was curious how I would look,” he shrugged. “Second, it was because of this damned prince of Wales costume,” he rolled his eyes. “One thing is for certain, though. I’m never attempting to grow a beard ever again.”

“I concur,” Tessa managed a smile. “Even though, I must admit, I will miss it a little. I liked trailing my hand through it when we kissed,” she beamed.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, you can still trail your hand through my hair while we kiss, or when you want. I still have plenty,” he made a crooked smile, and he knew she liked the proposition.

“It is a good consolation prize, indeed,” she nodded. “Thank you very much for the proposition, your royal highness, prince of Wales.”

He shook his head. “Only until the party is over,” he declared gravely. “Then I want it gone. Erased from my face. Can you do it for me, when we retire in our rooms, Tessa? I want to go back to being the old Will Herondale, please.”

“I will do anything you want, Will,” she touched his cheek lightly. “But first, let’s get something to drink and to eat.”

“Whatever you want, my darling. Whatever you want.”

Ending Notes: jolterhead is an authentic insult from the Victorian and Edwardian era, it means "a stupid fellow".

#tweety's celebration #tsc #tsc fanfiction #tlh #will herondale #tessa gray #wessa #gabriel lightwood #cecily herondale #gideon lightwood #sophie lightwood #gabrily #sophideon #the infernal devices #clockwork princess #clockwork prince #clockwork angel #tweety.writes

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