#when shipping just meant taking two characters and reading fics about them. now with the added benefit of writing for them too

[lenievi]

wip 🤔 & 🛠

🤔 What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

At the moment, it's a Valjean/Javert story set during the Montreuil-sur-Mer era, that's very confusing for both of them because they get entangled (because of fanfic reasons lol) and feelings get involved, and it all feels really good in my head but what are words? How do I turn it into a story? :D Most likely, I will combine it with post-Seine, because I like the idea of them having to untangle the Madeleine era stuff too (especially when they get closer and then Javert just gets angry and petty and turns Valjean in anyway) ... idk it's all very vague because coming up with "but how would they get closer during the Montreuil era is HARD" LMAO But funnily enough, because it's a book with so many adaptations that just do whatever, it feels kind of freeing because I don't feel the pressure to really stay 100% true to the characterization because people who make adaptations don't either, so I kind of hope that trying to write Valjean/Javert fic will be less pressuring than writing Star Trek fics.

🛠 Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

I do have a Valjean/Javert wip that's based on Les Misérables 2000 - I just want to use the scene where Javert walks into the Seine, his wrists handcuffed, and I like the dynamic Valjean and Javert have in that series - so far, it's also the only adaptation I've seen that has Valjean talk about Javert after Javert's death (and it also feels that if he got that chance, he would follow Javert and stop him from killing himself, more than others) - but I just can't figure out how to make Valjean take Javert home after Seine because my brain is like, but would he truly? (ofc not, but I want him to, brain!!!! :D idk maybe he should follow Javert to his home instead? 🤔)

[nqmonarch]

Just read a sad Jing Yuan fic (https://archiveofourown.org/works/49340614) for those curious and now I need to write Jing Yuan.

Kind of a continuation of previous fic about self aware Jing Yuan but you can read this without having previously read that.

You felt rather uncomfortable, as if you were always being watched in the world of Honkai Star Rail. You hadn't meant to come here, but it wasn't like there was much left for you in the real world. You'd lost everyone too, just like your favorite character. Speaking of Jing Yuan you'd yet to run into him.

It was strange, you belonged neither to the skies nor land as you found yourself dashing between the stars glancing upon aeons but rushing away before they ever noticed you. They were even more terrifying in person. You'd caught a glimpse of Nanook leading the antimatter legion, into an attack on Herta's Space Ship. The game couldn't even begin to showcase how terrifying he was, with lava flowing out of every crevice in his body and eyes that only knew pain. You felt like you couldn't sleep for a while after that, and ever since you'd come to this world you hadn't been able to sleep. The only positive side of the incident was that you knew where you were relative to time.

When you'd spent too much time dawdling in the stars, out of exasperation you managed to take a more human form once and ended up falling down onto a strange planet. But you immediately fled when people began to stare at you, and you easily found yourself above their planet again. You didn't know what you were doing but maybe you were starting to get the hang of it.

You dipped between planets and ships, treating space as water that you could glide through. Occasionally you'd want to rest and fall down to those planets and ships in the form of a shooting star, taking a more human form once you hit the surface.

It lead to some awkward situations as you weren't sure how to land. Once you crash-landed in a hotel with a teal pool in the middle, in the pool was a strange gray haired individual with wings on his head. You shot out of there moments later, briefly apologizing for damaging the property. Other times you'd land in the middle of nowhere, an unending field, a forest with trees so tall you couldn't see the sky, or a snowy landscape. You were sure that you'd visited Jarilo-VI with the last one. Eventually you got good enough at visiting planets that you wouldn't take form until you hit what was considered the ground there, you were still working on being able to choose where you land though.

You'd been floating about for a week or two, with little stars, planets, or ships in sight. It was as if you were in a dead zone. But you eventually came across something, a long pale green ship that moved leisurely throughout the skies. Bored, and tired of gliding through space you did something you normally didn't do and fell down to the ship. You didn't normally visit ships since every part of them were populated and you randomly appearing was sure to cause some commotion. But at this point you couldn't care less.

You felt your body phase through the ship's exterior, and its artificial sky until you landed on some grass. You landed rather gracefully, especially considering that when you started landing on planets you'd collapse to the ground in a ball. Now, you touched down on them like a dancer, pointed feet reaching out to the grass and letting you hop out of the sky.

It was a rather sophisticated ship, few sought to replicate what life was like on planets, few tried to cultivate and improve life. The first thing you did was check for any onlookers, there was no one in front of you, or to your left, or right but when you turned around, you saw one singular figure.

His shoulders were slightly slouched, his head was slightly downward. Disheveled bangs covered golden eyes which didn't glow with the confidence of a lion, or the love of the sun, but instead were dull with the sorrow of a man who has seen his life fall apart in his hands and has had to build it back up piece by piece. He didn't have his signature mischievous smile which you'd always seen in the game. And you were aware of how you'd accidentally intruding upon Jing Yuan's alone time, his defenses, completely worn down and tired, finally slipping off his face.

But when he looked at you his lips opened, but didn't speak, instead remaining slightly ajar. His head tilted up as his eyes locked onto you. You'd interrupted him, but he didn't seem upset, and a fake smile didn't float to his face. He was disbelieving.

Jing Yuan, unbeknownst to you, had seen the beauties of his past truly fall apart today. He'd seen Jingliu fight Blade, and Dan Heng was aloof to it all. Jing Yuan was the only one affected. The only one who still remembered it all, who held the burden of the whole truth. Perhaps, he was the only one who still loved the others. But that love was turned against him-- like stained glass shattering and sinking into his skin, waiting there to be pushed in further whenever he remembered the High Cloud Quintet.

But then there was you, and he knew you. He didn't know how you looked, how you sounded, he was dimly aware of how you felt through the barriers that the world had constructed. Your hand on his head, out of comfort, had felt so warm. In that dream shared between you both, when you'd appeared so blurry in his mind but reached out for a hug and he'd evaporated before your eyes. He'd put his hand on your head, and felt both love and dread.

He felt the comfort he'd always longed for from someone, but terrifyingly enough he felt himself begin to care for you. He began to care for you, someone he'd never met, more than he cared for anyone else. If you were to die, or lose your mind, if you were to turn into someone else to the point you were no longer yourself. Jing Yuan wouldn't be able to handle that. So he shunned away those feelings, knowing nothing good would come of a love this strong. It didn't matter anyway since the two of you would always be separated by some invisible barrier, which he still longed to break.

He said he gave up on you. But he never could. The same way he was unable to give up on his friends. Jing Yuan was a weak man, who felt like he could only find strength when he had nothing left to lose. Weeks ago your presence had disappeared and with it everything was gone, except for the fear he felt. He hadn't worried at first, brushing it off with ease as he did with everything else, but after the first few days he couldn't run from his feelings anymore.

Jing Yuan analyzed everything you'd said, every encounter the two of you had, he asked around to anyone who may've had similar experiences, and he came to a conclusion. Other people had felt your presence before, albeit none as attached to you as him. And from those other people, he realized, this was all a game. All of his suffering, all of his pain, everything he'd gone through was just to make him an interesting character.

But if it felt real to him, and to others, then why couldn't he be real? For now, he was just a game character to you. You could start playing with other characters, never choosing Jing Yuan again, and he would be left none the wiser. You could stop playing the game whenever you wanted to, and he would be left none the wiser. You could die, and he would be left none the wiser. The fact that he could think, and even come to this realization, assured Jing Yuan that he was more than a game character. A game, was simply the method used to connect your two worlds. And Jing Yuan would be damned if he couldn't find a way to hear from you again.

He would always be the general of the Xianzhou Luofu and he would always put the safety of the Luofu first so long as he was general. So it was even more important to prepare Fu Xuan to take his position, so he could spend the little time he had left, before he would become mara struck, and find a way to talk to you. He'd never expected that you would find a way to come here of your own accord, especially after he'd gone through such a terrible day.

It was like a gift from the universe.

Of course, you couldn't help but think the same as you saw your favorite character in front of you. It was like a gift from the universe. You took a step closer, the grass tickling your feet, and then you took another step. You moved rather slow, unsure about how Jing Yuan felt about you, reading the emotions on his face you'd never had the chance to see when he was a game character. You didn't get the chance to overthink about it, as he took long fast strides, quickly outpacing you and wrapped his arms around you pulling you close.

His shirt was billowy and soft against your skin, but it was just thin enough you could feel the heat from Jing Yuan's body mix with yours. He was real.

"It's wonderful, to finally meet you." His voice was deep and began to crack near the end of his sentence a weakness, unbefitting of a general, entering his voice. It was the weakness of a human.

You couldn't help but smile during your embrace, resting your head against his skin, hearing the soft beating of a heart. "I missed you," You couldn't help but say, despite the fact you'd never met.

Jing Yuan rested his head near yours, "I missed you too." It was like you were a pair of lovers reunited after countless of centuries trying to find each other. A pair of people who couldn't help but love everything in the world until nothing in the world loved them back. And when the lack of love hurt to the point of death, they'd find each other and learn to love again.

You didn't need to speak, nor communicate, a quiet understanding echoing between the two of you. A hot tear hit your face, and you looked to Jing Yuan seeing his eyes water, and leave streaks down his cheeks. You pulled his face closer, and kissed each wet spot taking the pain and leaving nothing but love behind. His arms clutched your waist, like you were a buoy and he was a man lost at sea.

Throughout everything the two of you have faced, you were both finally home.

me: the temptation to write self indulgent jing yuan fics vs wanting to fucking write my story

it's always a losing battle or maybe it's a win idk

[elvisabutler]

you know how kids are supposed to be good judges of character? i was wondering if you could do elvis x reader where their kids don't like mommy and daddy's manager?

children 'n dogs

summary: your children with elvis never have been a big fan of the colonel and neither have you even if elvis is. but as you and elvis like to say: "children 'n dogs, best judges of character." fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) | austin butler rating: t pairing: elvis presley x female reader ( or austin elvis x female reader ) word count: 1854 warnings: talk of children being absolute menaces. a married couple being very much a married couple. pregnancy. the colonel being the colonel. brief mentions of period typical and culturally typical opinions on child rearing re: discipline and spanking. calling elvis a backwater hick. brief brief mention of vomit. i think that should be everything. author’s note: so hi anon thank you for this prompt, this was actually a really sweet one and i kind of fell in love with it but wasn't too sure how to start it- plus the fun tired exhaustion i've been dealing with. i set this as a sort of continuation of my queen of graceland fic ( that i wrote for specifically austin elvis ), you don't have to read that one, just know it basically has elvis and the reader getting together right before he gets shipped off to germany, and they have a set of twin girls right about that time and i implied they were going to have plenty more kids after those two. read this with austin elvis or elvis in mind, i am not picky, since i left it faintly nebulous.

"Whaddya mean Jess spit on 'im? Damn boy is 6 years old, he knows better." Elvis asks as you start to take down your hair for the night, wincing at one of the pins digging deeper into your hair. "Christ, mama, let me get those ones in the back, ya know ya can't get at 'em."

You roll your eyes but remove your hands only to have your husband's warm hands replace them, finding the pins in your hair with an ease you envy. "I meant exactly what I said, sweetheart. Jesse spit on the Colonel in the five minutes I looked away while tryin' to make sure Loretta and Elizabeth were all ready to go. They all know I'm not movin' all that fast right now." Your hand moves to rub at your bump, an act that has Elvis letting out a heavy sigh above your head, one of his own hands following downward and pressing against it, earning a powerful kick.

"That's what I get for putting another set of 'em in ya, isn't it? My Queen of Graceland too big to be chasin' after my lil' hellion of a boy." He moves his hand off of your stomach, only to watch another kick happen with a chuckle as he busies himself with your hair. "Colonel seemed madder than just a lil spit. Gettin' the feelin' there's more."

There is a moment when you contemplate not telling him the rest, not telling him how your oldest daughters had lost their tempers once you got them over to where their siblings were and how the other two boys promptly followed their older brother and hit the Colonel and how your youngest daughter, your sweet 18 month old daughter had thrown up on the Colonel's shoes. You contemplate all of this only to look up at your husband and realize he's waiting, mid trying to take out a pin. "Everyone might have- well- everyone might have had their own things they wanted to do t'him."

Now you're no stranger to trying to smooth over things your children have done to Elvis, no stranger to making it seem as if your children are far more innocent than they actually are. But in being married to you and in knowing your children together from the day they were born he knows when you're doing it. He knows exactly when you're trying to gloss over things and make them look presentable. He leans down and places a kiss to the top of your forehead. "Darlin'. I ain't gonna be mad at 'em. Or maybe jus' a lil, but ya gotta tell me what they did so I can apologize."

You hum and purse your lips as you move to grab a brush to brush out your hair. "Oh, I don't think any of 'em want you to apologize for what they did. They know very well what they did was wrong." A pause and you shake your head. "Loretta and Elizabeth kicked him in the shin and stepped on his foot. While tellin' him to stop bein' angry at Jesse for spittin' and Anthony and Aaron for tryin' to bite and hit 'im."

The two warring emotions that filter across Elvis's face show just how much of a child he can be even as he's a parent to six kids- eight if he counted the ones inside you. He wants to laugh at the sheer chaos the scene brings to mind but at the same time he knows that he should frown upon everything, that you expect him to be able to discipline them a little but at the same time he looks in your eyes and doesn't see a hint of anger. At the children or him. He raises an eyebrow. "And the vomit on the shoe?"

"Rebecca's lunch." The most simple answer as he pulls out the final pins that you couldn't properly see to pull out. "That one i wasn't expectin' in the slightest. Don't know if it was her tryin' to follow her sibling's leads or jus' an upset stomach. But- she hasn't done it since then."

Meaning it likely was her trying to get in on the action. Elvis sighs, sitting on the chest at the bottom of the bed. "Goddamn, darlin'- Our kids did all o' that to him? Our well behaved kids? The ones who know their manners 'n-"

You hold up a hand waving it for him as a signal to stop talking. "Our kids who know their manners 'cause they know I'd have their hides if they didn't. Yes, those kids. Those kids also hate the Colonel 'bout as much as I do-"

It's Elvis's turn to cut you off, standing up only to kneel down in front of you, taking the brush out of your hands so that he can hold them in his own. So he can envelop them in his own and make you focus on his face as he talks. "I know- I know the two of ya haven't ever gotten along but he's why we have all o'this. Wouldn't have gotten so big and wouldn't be in these pictures if it wasn't for 'im."

There is a part of you, a tiny part that will admit he's right, that the Colonel is the reason he's as famous as he is and why he's able to keep up with paying for your ever growing family but at the same time the man hasn't ever truly liked you and he especially likes you less and less the more kids you bring into the world. "Elvis, if he had his way you wouldn't have me or our kids." You whisper, pulling up your hands in an effort to get him to pull up his own so that you can place a small kiss to them. "He never has liked any of us. Got mad when I was pregnant with Loretta and Elizabeth but liked how he could spin it. Same wit' Jesse. But our other three? And these ones? If he could leave us out in a ditch somewhere, I honestly think he would. He- This doesn't give you the all American, Hollywood star look, it makes you look like a backwater hick."

"A backwater hick." He repeats back slowly, knowing fully well it wasn't you saying that. Oh he'd expect that from your mama, but not you. Which had to have meant that was the Colonel's words, not your own. "He tell ya that? He tell my goddamn wife that?

When you had first gotten married you might have looked away due to how Elvis's voice deepens in pitch, a sure sign of how angry he is simmering under the surface. Nowadays? Now it just makes you shake your head for a moment before nodding. "He has- which might be why your children kinda like a dog know when someone is-"

"Not a good person? Has a bad character?" He finishes for you before muttering under his breath. "Children 'n dogs."

The puff of air that leaves your nose betrays just how aggravated you're getting to be with the entire conversation as does the rolling movement of your twins. "They've done this for years, Elvis, it's jus' today that they've all done it at once. We deal wit' it for ya. I know you won't leave 'im so I handle it."

His eyes drift down to your stomach where he sees his children move a bit angrily and he frowns realizing that you've been stuck dealing with this alone while he sung the Colonel's praises all this time. He had to admit that as of late he was feeling a bit dissatisfied with the man and was beginning to wonder if maybe it was time for a change. A change that would make everyone happy. He pulls his hands away from yours and allows you to start to brush your hair again while he moves to touch and rub your stomach in an effort to calm the children. It works quicker than he'd have thought was possible judging by the way you lean back in the chair a little and sigh. Placing a kiss to your stomach he stands up. "I'll talk to 'im tomorrow, a'right? 'Bout a lot of things. Now come on, lets get your hair all brushed and my teeth all brushed and get ya into bed 'fore these lil ones wake back up and make a fuss."

You tilt your head up for a kiss before you nod. "Don't need to tell me twice. Go on, I got my hair sweetheart." You pause. "I love you. And I am sorry about what they did."

"Don't be, they're- our kids, mama. If they weren't like this- I'd be worried." He kisses you one more time before he pulls away to go to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "Love ya too."

Elvis manages to finish brushing his teeth before you finish with your hair and murmurs something about checking on the kids. It's a quick walk to the bedrooms and when he opens the door he's bombarded by a flurry of hugs and overlapping voices.

"We know we shouldn't have but he's so mean to mama!"

"He was yelling at Jesse and Anthony and Aaron, you'd've been mad too daddy!"

"He spit on me first!"

"He what?" The last words uttered by Jesse are what finally have Elvis putting up his hands and telling everyone to be quiet. "Didya jus' say he spit on ya?"

Jesse looks away when he answers, knowing that he technically is lying but he knows Mr. Parker would have. He just knows. "He didn't but- Daddy we jus'. He's mean. He's never mean when you're here but he's mean."

Elvis frowns and pulls his children in for a group hug, noting how they try and burrow into him as best as they can almost as if they want his forgiveness and protection all in one. When he pulls away he places a kiss to each of their foreheads. "I- I'm hearin' all 'bout this tonight. Listen. You all go on 'n get into bed. Daddy's gonna deal wit' some things tomorrow. Some things wit' Colonel Parker. Don't you worry 'bout it."

The grins so much like his own crossing all of their faces make his heart so full of love he almost feels like crying before he shakes his head. Lights out once I leave. And be nice to your mama tomorrow mornin' ya know your siblings are a lil rough on her right now."

A chorus of "yes daddy" leaves everyone's lips in whatever way they can manage it before he shuts the door and moves back to your shared bedroom. You're already on the bed by the time he comes back, curled up with a pillow fast asleep as he slides in next to you and nuzzles at your neck. "Ya gotta tell me 'bout these sorta things, darlin'. Can't protect ya if ya don't. But I'll deal wit' it tomorrow mornin'. Have some words wit' 'im. Love all of ya too much to not."

taglist: @ab4eva, @eliseinmemphis, @powerofelvis, @headfullofpresley, @precious-little-scoundrel, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, one day i'm gonna keep track of who would want to be tagged with what. today is not that day.

[quirkyfries]

My concept of Dandy rebranding Gardenview to a new glory after the neglect of handlers, going back to their roots, and creating a toon with the use of research capsules.

[Mixed with your own theory of them, Dandy has a seemingly noble goal, they are just a bit evil and cause torment to the twisted and toons about it for their own satisfaction. The entitlement and audacity of a petal thinking they deserve to keep all the tapes of their history/training/making toons safety/learning videos/mlp/PSAs... you know the usual tapes you'd want to keep.] Now your theory was added, making Dandy seem more complex and interesting. Still mostly evil, BUT WHAT IF I MADE IT WORSE!!!

{A bit inspired by Sun and Moon Show <333}

... He was unable to figure out how to make an original toon, so tragic fan-child it is! Midnight Tragedy's Child (Astro x Dazzle) are they actually dating, or not. Who knows! They might not be, and that just makes it more funner(not in shipping, in the psychological torment sense <3 )

Dandy would totally family vlog, and Truman show the entire facility!!! They will compete at one point for the kid to do what challenges, and its Dandy vlogs vs Glistens lol.

I am planning on hopefully finishing chapter 1 today <3 wish I had written dopamine. I need it for my adding brain :D

Fun fact, the ideal design for the fan-child to have two-star shape'd eyes on the right of their face, was because the hands that Tron Astro uses are in his head, under his hat probably but in his brain basically.

So at will fan-child can move their eyes around to see into people's dreams or memories or to see if they are lying, who knows, dazzle hates it when Razzles acts.

what are your thoughts on it, I can't wait to figure out Glistens relationships with rnd, vee, and Astro specifically hehe. There are rnd headcanons that they look up to glisten, and glisten get along with vee. (karaoke, or has funner lines in trivia for the viewer to keep watching than winning all the prizes)

I love canon compliments, but I adore alterations if headcanons are not canon compliments. <3

oh yeah, and some doodles I did on a whiteboard. here are some of the concept chapters:

I'm too shy to show the last doodle with Astro and Rnd meeting up with Dandy, to figure out what their 'vacation' truly meant when they see the new toon on the bench(theirs another doodle of that on paper) I'm having so much fun with writing this, and I'm almost wondering how Dandy might become a manager. Can they ever get IDs?

:P

... Since they got research from the twisted themselves... whose child is it really [Family drama]

Hope you like my chaotic concept, i have no ideas for the other characters, but I just gave Poppy an HC that they are not allowed to drink pop because of a commercial aftermath incident :D

Astro giving others nightmares by accident will always be funny <3

Have a wonderful day! I didn't have this beta read, so my words may not make sense hehe

OOOO Thank you so much for sharing this with me!!

Between Dandy mixing Astro + RND’s (research? ichor? Toon dna) to make a toon from scratch, said child’s ability and the surrounding drama in the form of family vlog and Truman show’d facility, I’d say you’re in for a pretty solid story!

I’m really curious about Glisten’s relationships with other toons, I haven’t been able to look at the new update yet lol. I know that fella has all the deets.

Midnight tragedy is super cute, I love their design! I wonder, since it’s ambiguous who their parents actually are, if they’d chosen a parent figure? Unless Dandy filled that role by default, or maybe it was a “it takes a village to raise a child” situation? Or did they spawn fully grown and only needed some guidance to mature emotionally.. don’t let my questions point to spoilers for your fic, I’m just wondering aloud!

10/10 concepts and art, I will be watching for that fic when it’s posted! You have a nice day too :D!

[sassykattery]

Dollface Pt. 1

In a world where magical objects sometimes end up in places they shouldn't be, sometimes even the most careful end up in precarious situations. This fic is "Dollface," a story about a particular demon falling into one of those very situations.

CW: The main character is afab, uses she/her pronouns. This story is meant to be somewhat curvy/plus-sized reader insert, but the main character is given a physical description, but it's not crucial to the story or mentioned often after Part 1.

Themes: Romance. Magic. Adventure.

Characters: Main Character. Diavolo, mention Barbatos.

Minors and ageless blogs DNI

18+ only

Enjoy.

Masterlist

I suppose this is what I get for opening that cursed text, Diavolo thought. Barbatos is going to be quite cross with me when I get back... Whenever that will be at this rate.

While the Demon Lord, his butler, and the seven brothers were visiting the human world, Diavolo had heard of and found a magical artifact exhibit to see if there were any authentic pieces. Often times, when these exhibits took place, they were full of fakes. However, he still enjoyed looking through them nonetheless. He was intrigued by reading the tall tales that accompanied these items, amused by the stories humans would come up with. On occasion, there would be an authentic item left behind by a witch or careless demon that somehow ended up there, and he would work to bring it back to the Devildom.

However, he was distracted by a commotion down the hall, and when he accidentally touched this cursed book before inspecting it, opening it just slightly, he found himself motionless on the floor, staring up at the lights on the ceiling and unable to move.

Hm, now, how do I get out of this? Surely there's a way to undo it...

The prince then began to cite a spell in his mind but felt the buzzing sensation of being barred from completing it. This curse had locked his magic, leaving him unable to perform anything to help.

Damn, this is a strong curse. I wonder what I am–

"What an adorable doll! I think maybe a child or someone dropped this. We should take it to the front desk," a woman said, hovering over the prince.

A doll?

"Alright, but hurry up. We're going to be late if we don't leave in two minutes," a man said next to her.

The woman picked up Diavolo, her gentle hands holding onto his entire body. He merely watched as he took in her features as she peered down at him. She dropped him back down to her side and began walking away from where he was once standing.

Oh, I'm going to be sick. This is worse than some of the rides at Devil's Coast, he thought. Ah, I suppose I won't actually vomit now. Still, this is dizzying.

"Hi, I found this doll on the ground and wanted to know if a child was looking for it?" The woman said, stopping at the front desk of the exhibit.

"Not yet, but we can hang onto it just in case when the kid realizes it's gone," a man replied.

"Oh good, here," she said, handing the prince to the employee.

Diavolo looked to see a grouchy-looking older gentleman holding him now and was quickly thrown into a dark desk drawer with little decorum.

Well, now what?

---

This is definitely not good, Diavolo thought as he stared ahead at the envelope he was in.

About two weeks ago, he was taken to some adult woman's house, still unsure how he came to her possession, where he was given a tag around his back left leg, sealed in a plastic bag, and sat to wait in what seemed to be an office. He looked around at the other dolls, figures, and toys around him, wondering if they had met the same fate as him. It was unlikely, but at least he could look at a few of them, finding some entertainment in imagining what movies or games they were from.

Then, one day, the woman took him and placed him in what seemed to be a mailing envelope, along with a card he decided to read as entertainment while he spent two weeks being shipped to hell knew where. It was in another language, but some of it he could read, as it essentially said thank you for ordering this product.

Barbatos is going to kill me, he thought to himself at one point. It seems I have been purchased and being sent to someone else.

While he was loaded into airplanes, thrown into trucks, and passed from person to person in this envelope, he was coming up with ways to apologize to his butler and the brothers, no doubt thinking they were absolutely frantic looking for him. Surely, all eight of them will lock him up in his castle for an eternity to work on his paperwork for causing such a fiasco.

Finally, he had come to rest in one place for two days, and that's when he heard her voice for the first time.

"Hi there, I have a package I need to pick up. I'm not sure if you have it or if the postman took it," he heard a youthful feminine voice call out.

"Let me see... Yes, we have it! From out of the country– Japan, I see. How interesting," another older sounding feminine voice replied, picking up his envelope and carrying him a few feet before placing it on a surface.

"Yes! I'm very excited," she replied.

"Just sign here."

After a few moments, Diavolo was moving again as he heard a "Thank you so much!" in a highly cheerful voice.

As he was carried away, he could tell the envelope was being hugged tightly, as he wasn't moving too much and felt pressure around him, though he could tell they were walking. He heard what seemed like a car door unlock, and the two swung inside of it, the door shutting and an engine starting.

Suddenly, he could hear the envelope being torn open, and a hand reached in to carefully pull him in his plastic bag out. He was faced away from the person holding him, looking to see the black interior of the car he had been taken to, taking in the new scenery for the first time in weeks. The clear plastic wrap was peeled open, and he was carefully pulled out of it, seeing an ivory hand with black, sharp nails holding him. He was then turned around, and he saw for the first time who was now holding him, the first new face in weeks.

Oh.

"Hi there. You're so cute..." she murmured a greeting with a sweet smile on her lips. Her thumb ran across his body and hair.

Diavolo took her in as well. She was an adorable blonde with intricate makeup applied to her face. He saw her glittering purple lids with sharp black liner, beautiful lashes batting as she looked at him. He felt that he would be blushing if he actually could with how she inspected him so closely. Her eyes crinkled with adoration lacing her gaze, and he noticed her darling shadow blue eyes sparkling down at him. He also appreciated her full cheeks and round face. Her soft touch wasn't unnoticed either, how she gently caressed his form, even with her claw-like nails. Her lips held a soft shine to them, small in size but with a pouty lower lip and very muted pink in color, now curling into a charming smile.

Well, it could be worse.

"I'm so happy to have you..." she murmured again, holding his body gently in her palm as she continued to thumb over his hair. Her hand was warm, and her touch was careful, as if he was porcelain instead of a plush velvet doll. She turned him over a few times, carefully pulling on his garnet overcoat, before turning him to face her again.

Could be a lot worse. She seems nice, at least.

He was then placed on what seemed to be the seat next to her as she started buckling a seat belt and turning on some music in the car. It sounded like pop music, and from his seat in the car, he could easily see her, watching as she reversed the car and then drove off.

Their car ride lasted for a little while, and Diavolo had the privilege of listening to her sing to the radio and pick up what seemed to be her lunch.

This isn't so bad. She's a good driver, her voice is lovely, she seems sweet. Well, I guess this is better than the alternative while I wait for help.

When they reached their destination and the car stopped, he watched her eat a sandwich, switching radio stations to a orchestral one. After she was done, he saw her reach over to hold him again, and he was face to face with her once more.

"I'll just take you to class with me," she mumbled. "I don't want to leave you in the car."

Class?

After a few minutes, he was placed into what he saw to be a pink backpack, and he looked ahead to see a textbook, calculator, and some other items he didn't quite recognize. The zipper closed, and he felt them starting to walk again, followed by a car door shutting and a beep to lock it.

It was a few hours before she picked him up again. He sat through what sounded to be some physics and chemistry courses, and he was rather impressed with her. She answered questions like a pro, and he was rather curious to know more about her. He also overheard her conversations with others, like her professors and how friendly they were to each other. She was clearly studious and on top of things, sounding like a successful student, but he noticed how she always seemed uncertain, or rather, he realized, how anxious she seemed.

It was finally when they reached what he thought was her car again, that the bag was set down, and she opened it to pull him out. She seemed a little tired, some creases under her eyes now, but he was distracted when she put him in the front pocket of her jacket up high on her chest, facing out to see the world ahead.

Oh, this is lovely, I can finally see where we're going, he thought cheerfully.

She put on her seat belt, reversed out of the parking spot, and off they went again. He took in the scope of her world, watching the soccer fields, parks, buildings, and scenery that passed by. She started singing again, now listening to heavy metal, to his surprise.

An intriguing human. As sweet as she sounds and looks, she listens to music about rage and death, but still in her lilted and soft singing voice right in my ear. Now that I think about this, this is an excellent opportunity to learn more about humans.

After around fifteen minutes, Diavolo watched as they entered a residential neighborhood, small and large houses whirling by as she drove down the street. They pulled into an alley and then a driveway around the back of a house, the garage door opening as she straightened her car to pull in. After putting it in park, she got out and walked back to retrieve her backpack, close the garage door, and then walk inside the house.

He tried to take everything in as she walked inside the house. She walked down a dimly lit hallway, and then she made a turn to open the door. He looked out to see a turquoise room. There were black furnishings throughout, clothes strewn in a couple of places, and what seemed to be a vanity with makeup, lights, and mirrors on it.

The woman set her bag down on the floor near the door and started to take off her shoes and jacket, but not before taking the prince out of the pocket while she hung it up. She held him firmly but gently in her grasp as she walked around, and finally, she plopped down on her bed. Laying him on a pillow next to her head, he watched as she pulled out her phone and began scrolling through it.

Diavolo felt a little bad for looking, but he was at a point where he could easily see her phone, right next to her head, and he observed as she scrolled. He learned her name, figured out her age, a little bit about her interests, that she was a college student and caught a glimpse of what she was studying, and that she loved to write. It took him time to realize what she was doing as she opened an app and began typing quickly. From what he could read, she was a talented writer, clearly knowing how to illustrate feelings and showcase not only interesting but well thought out characters.

She suddenly yawned, clicking off her phone and rolling onto her side, facing him. Her eyes closed, and he looked at her in his peripheral.

She's even cute while she sleeps, he mused fondly. It's lovely to meet you.

After half an hour, she was up again, bringing her backpack over to the bed to pull out a laptop, tablet, and stylus. He watched her with interest as she played music from the laptop and began drawing.

Drawing, too? She has quite a few talents, it seems.

She looked over at the prince, tilting her head as if in thought.

"Maybe I should draw you sometime," she mused, turning back to what she was doing.

I'd like that.

---

Diavolo felt the human woman stir the next morning, and suddenly another light came on for about an hour, and she was out of sight for that long, until she came back and he realized she had put makeup on. He watched as she moved around, and suddenly, he was up in the air too, her small hand taking hold of him to place him in her pink backpack again. And thus began another day.

The prince listened to her music, her singing, the lectures she attended, which seemed vastly more challenging than the previous day with biochemistry and microbiology, and rode home once more. When they arrived home, they laid on her bed again while she scrolled through her phone.

She sure seems to lay in bed a lot.

"Ugh, my back," she groaned, rolling onto her side. From how he was laid up slightly against another pillow, he could fully look at her as she scrolled through her phone.

Well, that would explain it. Poor girl.

"Mm," she giggled wickedly, a naughty smile gracing her lips. Diavolo listened as she scrolled through many different videos over the next hour, her laughs and cackles like music to his ears. He watched her nearly cry with laughter, how her eyes and brows gave away so much of what she was thinking.

This was far better, he thought, than being locked away in some office or drawer, bored out of my mind.

Diavolo came to like this human woman. He enjoyed her company, even if she wasn't always directly talking to him. Her laugh and singing made him smile internally. The way she moved and spoke entranced him. They were somewhat like friends then, at least to him, as much as he was learning about her habits.

A friend. A human friend.

Though, it didn't take much to steer his thoughts away. He had been gone from the Devildom for quite some time, likely longest period yet without a way to contact everyone. Likely, Barbatos and the brothers were frantic to look for him, and here he was, a doll living with an adult woman who treated him like a beloved childhood toy, even after just a couple of days.

But maybe, just maybe, this wasn't so bad. He was learning so much about humans from this experience, and he could just relax while time ticked on. And if he had to spend this time with her until help arrived or the curse broke, then it wouldn't be so bad. She was sweet, good company, and rather loving. She was endearing. He was at the point where he wished he could talk back to her, desperately wanting to interact, to see how she would react to him in his full form.

Then it hit him. Would she like him? Would she be afraid of him? She was rather short, so maybe he would be too intimidating. He knew she was an anxious person, so what if he scared her? What if she wanted nothing to do with him?

Or would she enjoy him too? Would she let him get close? Could they touch? Would she like him gently caressing her as she had done to him? It felt a bit unfair how she could just hold, touch, or carry him as she pleased, when he wanted to do it and more to her as well. Would she want to kiss him? How would her lips feel? How do they taste? Maybe he was just curious about her, and his nature was getting the better of him. Or maybe, he could see himself getting to know her and finding there is more between them.

These thoughts and that many more plagued his mind as time passed, occupying him constantly.

Hear me, denizens of darkness, for this curse shall be broken in parts. First, the demon shall in perpetuity remain in motionlessness and silence until the beloved human shall retain affection for the doll and vice versa. For the love of a doll is to place one's emotions onto the doll. Once affection is reached and matained, may the effected demon be vocal in their returned affection. Second, should the effected demon hold these affections mutually, shall the two get closer. Let there be a forged fondness for one another. Only when the human may voice this fondness shall the doll be set free.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed.

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @delphi-dreamin @itsmeninerz @flemmingbamse @attic-club-sandwich @bite-sized-devil @marvelous-maniac @themythicaldisaster

Next

[cabezadeperro]

Hello. (!!!!!!!) I am marathoning your Jango-long-works because I keep on turning the (stunning) way you write this man in my mind like a rotisserie chicken strapped to a wind turbine. I’m just, like. what is this guy’s deal?? Because I adore (adoreeeeeee), the way you write him as he’s like. Inescapable. (In the sense that im reading ‘ships in the night’ and I love how we’re getting a glimpse into his days pre-bounty hunter, pre-new-lungs, pre-‘my rage has simmered down’). Like, his line about: “Jango finished the job because that's why he’s being paid to do—and he has very little now, but his honor is one of those things.” I want to put it under a microscope because, why is he clinging to this job when surely he could have looked for allies? I feel like he feels such an overwhelming sense of. Guilt? Grief? Responsibility? For how Galidraan went, and he does use ‘selfish’ to refer to himself, could that mean he can’t relate or engage with that Mandalorian, even if their goals partially align, because that will be further defeat and he can’t take it. In short, (and thank you for your patience with my rambling! Feel free to reply or not, public or private is fine) the way he Will fulfill a contract but No he is not your mandalor (or he doesn’t even feel particularly patriotic) is such an odd thing that is deeply compelling and I admire (and it’s maddening) how the narrative (your writing style) is not out to Deus Ex Machina him to get himself fixed. I really love how you show the broken/competent/grim parts of him while also keeping him unapologetically himself (but maybe I am still firmly stuck in that harrowing scene he has with the Goran about Arla, that I’m realising now I’m unconsciously putting next to ‘ships in the night’ even if their timelines differ).

Anyway!! I realise I should close an ask with an actual ‘?’, so: did you have any goals when you set out to write ‘ships in the night’ and ‘Arla and Jango revenge road trip’, and if yes, is there any ‘director’s cut comment’ that you’d like to share?? 🤩🤩🤩

HIIII

i was going to answer privately, but when you do that the ask disappears into the ether forever, and i wanted to have some way to save this skdghkgh

thank you so much for reading and for reaching out!! it makes me very happy that you want to talk about those two fics specifically--i'm pretty proud about them and not that many people have read them dfdsfkj (understandable! they're very niche and no one owns me anything lol).

under the cut because this got Long lol

wecome to the "rotating jango fett like a rotisserie chicken" club. it's hard work but someone has to do it. he's my little meow meow and lives rent free in my brain etc etc. i think he's such an interesting character and has so much potential in the little we see him both in the movies and in other materials (like the comics or the videogame), and i don't want to judge other people's versions of the character but i feel like sometimes the fandom doesn't do him justice. he's just so Interesting, i want to study him like the bug. he's key for The Star War but at the same time he's kind of like illegible--kind of like a blank space but not. we know what he did, we know what happened to him, but we don't actually know any of his whys, and i find that fascinating.

his character as it first appears in the prequels is also very interesting. i love how still and quiet and bland and polite he is! he's just some guy (tm), nothing to see here.

iirc ships in the night was actually written as part of an event. it was a gift for a friend, and that meant that i knew i could get more personal with where i took the story. i thought that it would be interesting to explore his character when he was no longer jango fett, mand'alor, but he also wasn't jango fett, bounty hunter yet. your 20s are a Weird time, and i think that in his case they had to be even weirder. it may be because i personally just got "finished" with mine (i wrote those fics right before turning 30 lol), but i find that decade very interesting. there's a lot of change, a lot of shedding layers of dead skin and old personalities and trying out things and messing up and becoming one thing or another, and in jango's case (someone who's severely traumatised, who's lost and lost and lost, who hasn't actually had the time or the space to grieve properly) those years would be even more key for who he became afterwards. he's very raw. he's very scared and still grieving. but there's also this--coldness about him, this ability to intellectualise and dissect and actively ignore his sense of right and wrong until it scabs over and he can forget he ever had one. he's very young and very clever and completely ruthless, and he has nothing to lose anymore.

also, we don't actually know that much about what happened to him between escaping the spice freighter and doing that job for dooku. a decade goes by, and he becomes the Best Bounty Hunter In The Galaxy TM, and we just have no idea of what actually happens to him, or what he does.

that was also my thought process behind monsterkilling i believe? (sorry, it's been a while lol). i just wanted to write something about jango and arla, about arla finding out what happened to him and just deciding to find jango. i think i didn't quite do her justice, but i wanted to explore what would happen if the fact that she needs to take care of her little brother would make it through the trauma and the programming. they're both incredibly messed up and they don't really know each other anymore, and at the same time they're the only ones left. (also: arla's song in that fic is apple tree by marika hackman, and the last scene with the quince tree and the tombs is directly inspired by the song.)

so yeah. with both fics i think i wanted to explore ideas of growing up, change, vulnerability, grief and trauma. i wanted to write about connecting to people despite yourself, about hurting them and getting hurt in turn, and about taking in both the hurt you give and the hurt you receive and deciding what to do with all of it.

anyway! this is a lot! thank you for everything, for your comments as well ❤️❤️❤️ they made me very happy!!!!

[my-smial]

9 people you'd like to get to know better

tagged: @agapantoblu

Thank you, Agap, for tagging me! I like doing these things and I always need to do more things <3

tagging: @mornyavie, @rauwyn, @gender-trash, @melancholy--lion, @fandomreferencepending, @thewomanwhobloggedlikeaman, @blankerthought, @in-the-mists, @grundyscribbling, @sous-le-saule, @ainawgsd, and anyone else who wants to do it!

three non romantic duos:

Hmm, this one's tough. There's always a lot going on, so I could name sooo many characters. It would be harder to stop naming duos, so I'll choose a few media that have been particularly relevant to my life lately. Just know there are so many more. Every pairing from The Circle of Magic, for a start.

1. Percy de Rolo & Keyleth. I'm writing this while watching the Legend of Vox Machina TV show, so I decided to choose one of them. Ever since the first episode of both the show and the podcast, I enjoyed how these two bring out fun sides of each other. They're close, they love each other, and they relax around each other as they do around very few people. Even with their respective romantic pairings in the show - those are more fraught and intense. Percy and Keyleth always feel like they're having fun when they pair up.

2. Aaron & Andrew Minyard. Man!!! All for the Game has taken up my dash for months now, so I had to choose one pairing. I will choose the twins, because I can. I want them to like each other. I devour any fic I can find about them slowly blossoming their relationship over the post-grad years.

3. Wirt & Greg, from Over the Garden Wall. It's rewatch season! I love these two, and I enjoy the way they are brothers first and always. In particular, my favorite moment is when Greg, who is on the surface level scene more thoughtless and random, actively chooses Wirt over himself. He's offered to escape and chooses uncertainty instead to save Wirt and it's incredible. He is more thoughtful than a surface-level viewing would indicate.

a ship that might surprise others: mmm. Hm. This is hard. I don't really come up with non-canon ships often, and I am generally very normie when I do. I have non-canon hot takes like "Leverage OT3 is awesome" (that's a joke). So I'd say my most "surprising" ship is probably from Fullmetal Alchemist. I am firmly of the opinion that Ed and Winry should break up so she can follow her true love for Paninya, the mechanic girl with two metal legs from the baby episode. THEY ARE MEANT TO BE. Or maybe we can do fun polyamory! Winry has two hands.

last song: Come Out Ye Black and Tans by Colm McGuinness, specifically the rock version. Although I was listening to the regular and rock versions back-to-back on repeat. For Reasons.

last film: KNEECAP. I've listened to the band for a while and LOST IT when I found out they made a biopic and it was playing near me. Somehow I missed all the advertising until I randomly looked at a theater schedule??? Extremely funny being the rap fan in what felt like a room full of people there because of the Sundance win. I was honestly preparing to not like the film because Biopic Drama is not my genre, but oh boy was it not that. It was so fun. I was dancing and singing in my seat.

I loved their laissez-faire approach to whether this is a "true" story and the constant energetic thread their music pulled through the movie. It was a riot. As a bilingual film it felt very natural, clearly informed by people who actually live their lives bilingually - slipping in and out of languages happened logically, and the band walked a fun line between "suck it up and read the subtitles" and "99% of our audience doesn't speak this language or know this particular struggle, let's explain a few things in our own way."

Only thing I didn't like is that it's far more vulgar than I normally enjoy, but you know. I listen to KNEECAP on purpose. I knew what it would be like going in, it would honestly be disappointing if KNEECAP chose to clean themselves up for Hollywood. I actively chose to shut off that part of my brain during viewing, and it was a great time. Just know before choosing to view that the Trainspotting references are earned, and I can give you more detail if you want to go watch.

currently reading: The Way of Kings by Brandon Sanderson. I started it last year but didn't have the spare brainpower for such a complicated story - I got sick of keeping track of the POV swaps. But I did like the worldbuilding, so I eventually picked it back up and it's going much better this time around. For me, this is one of those books that I've been told to read so many times that I knew I would get around to it eventually.

currently watching: Actively on Season 3, Episode 11 of The Legend of Vox Machina TV show. Episode 12 is starting, time to wrap up.

currently consuming: Kimchi hash browns with eggs. Delicious.

currently craving: My fellowship application to get back to me please why does this take you so long.

This was really fun, thank you Agap!

[imavikingo]

There is something that I can’t understand and will never understand about fandom “culture”

Why EVERYTHING (or a lot of things) need to be canon or acknowledged by the actors/directors/producers to be accepted by the fandom? In specific ships?

And why when a “ship” (two characters, really) have more screentime than others/other characters aren’t in the picture anymore, people take that as a victory as see their ship as more valid and “actually canon”? And mock/harass others for it?

Also there is this thing people have been doing a lot too: Thats calling everyone that doesn’t like the ship you like names (and also calling them terms that before actually meant something awful but nowadays can be said for simply tagging the incorrect ship in a fucking post)

Canon isn’t always the norm here kid. At least when it relates to ships and scenarios. (Bc if we’re talking about characterization… yes it needs to be canon in a sense or we’re writing/making ocs out of canon characters)

Most of the more popular ships will never be canon and have never been, especially the gay ones. (See Drarry, Narusasu, Frodo/Sam, Johnlock, etc, etc)

So why suddenly we care so much about what NEEDS to be canon or not?

Why people NEED to see their ships be canon so badly?

Sure, I can be seen as a hypocrite because Ive been talking about Stucky a lot in the canon and what happened in EG, but they actually did that themselves. The directors talked about gay characters, the actors talked about Stucky. So actually it isn’t something ludicrous or anything. (I’ve never thought they would actually make the ship canon -bc that would be a big problem for them “how can you make Cap America gay!” And shit- but I thought they would at least make them still be friends or friendly or acknowledge the “bromance” and they just killed the friendship in one scene with the most ooc shit ever). In fact, I’m more annoyed by that. They assassinated Steve’s character and Bucky’s progress.

Nevermind…

Why people fight so much about ships and use terms that shouldn’t be brought into stupid shit like this?

Fandoms are supposed to be fun and to have discussions (in good faith) about the canon. What we like and what we don’t like about it.

Besides, a lot of current media are about stuff that’s been remade over and over again. So they have a lot of adaptations and you can pick and choose too, if you want.

And if you don’t like the canon? Easy! Do analysis, criticize it, write fics, do fanart, do creative shit or simply ignore it! No one is forcing you to keep on watching the show or the stuff you now hate/cant stand. That’s what Im doing at least.

Sure, I criticize some people and movies a lot and get actually annoyed by the disrespect towards/assassination of some characters, but at the end of the day I can only shrug and say “it is what it is” and leave it at that. (Meaning not giving them money for the new stuff/not watching nor caring about it and only acknowledging the old things I actually care about and like)

But I don’t insult or disrespect other people in fandom because of it. And also I don’t harass the directors or actors either, ffs.

Idk, Ive always been on the sidelines of the stuff I follow, I’ve never been on the thick of fandoms so maybe thats why I don’t understand.

And I’ve also not seen so many crazy shit (the most crazy stuff Ive seen is people calling others racists for tagging a ship incorrectly and also others inflating the tag of a ship in ao3 so their ship would be “the most popular” with most fics, in that fandom) because I actually curate what I see. I don’t like a ship? I mute, if I can’t stand a person or a ship? I block em. Simple and easy.

I’ve always drawn stuff for myself, read fics and made headcanons. Only recently I’ve been sharing stuff more openly, so maybe it’s that.

Idk.

I’m just tired of seeing discourse and people fighting over this stuff.

[nerdysleepybunny]

Hii!! This is my first time kinda requesting/asking something of you and I wanted to know if you're comfortable with doing it 😋😋 Would you be able to do a TPN (possibly+separate) trio with a GN/Fem!reader with not severe but pretty bad attachment issues or separation anxiety? Like the reader has been in the orphanage for a while, but always chooses that one (Ray, Norman, Emma) to attach to as a safety person? It's been a struggle for me since I was young and you are such a good writer, so maaayybbeee you could write it? Feel free to add or change anything to it!!<33 P.S depending on whether or not you can write it, can I be 🌷or💗 anon?

Hey cloud puff, glad you could join the clouds! Thanks for your first request, and for the kind words! I have attachment issues as well, so this is yet another fic of me simply describing myself lol. And of course you can be 🌷anon! I’ll add you to the list darling. <3 I decided to turn this into angst so prepare for tears. 👹👹👹 Thank you so much for the request, hope you enjoy!!

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

Fandom(s): The Promised Neverland

Character(s): Norman, Ray, Emma (ft. Mom)

Reader: Gender neutral (they/you)

TW: Mentions of attachment issues

Style: Hcs

Summary: the trio with a reader who has attachment issues

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

You were born in the orphanage, and grew up there along with all your siblings. But, whenever you made a close friend, they ended up getting adopted, leaving you all alone. What hurt even more was that you never heard of them again. So, when you ended up befriending the trio, you constantly feared that one day they would leave you too.

Norman was used to your clinginess, how you’d always follow him around like a lost pup, practically glued to his hip. Hell, sometimes you’d even have your arms wrapped around one of his as you two walked side by side. Almost 24 hours of your day is spent as close to him as possible, but sadly you simply couldn’t be by his side all day, yet you still tried. Not that he minded!

Emma enjoys having you around as a playmate! You two would run around and play games together, sometimes just laying in the grass and gazing at the sky above you. You were always apart of her little shenanigans, you being her go-to person when she has mischief in mind! The two of you tell each other everything, and definitely have secret handshakes/signals that only the two of you understand. :)

Ray wasn’t as fond of your closeness as the other two, enjoying his space and alone time, but he still appreciated your company. You’d often join him in reading sessions or long conversations in the library. Sometimes you two would sit under his usual tree and write/draw in the dirt with sticks. When his social battery was drained, he’d send you off to Emma or Norman whilst he recharged. Though, you being so clingy made it easier for him to tell you the secret. Short story you ended up having a breakdown in his arms, to which he comforted you through the entire thing, until your screams turned to sobs, your sobs turned to whimpers, and your whimpers turned to deep breaths as you slowly regained control of yourself.

So imagine how hurt you were when you figured out Norman was being “adopted”. And the fact that you now knew the secret made it even more heart breaking. You now know why you never heard from your other siblings, and now Norman was about to join them. You simply couldn’t take it. Not him, anyone but him.

You stopped caring that you were supposed to be hiding the fact that you knew the secret, and barged into Mom’s office. She looked up from her desk shocked, but smiled warmly at your rage filled, yet tearful expression. How could she smile at something like this?

You slammed your hands on her desk, demanding that you were shipped out in Norman’s place. You’d do anything, anything at all, as long as it meant keeping Norman alive for just a bit longer. Mom quickly hushed you, reminding you that the other children can’t hear you, but agreed she’d think about it.

So that’s how you ended up here, in the forest, past the fence, with the trio standing behind you and Mom directly in front. No other children in the way, no more pretending, just a conversation where everyone can finally be themselves.

“I’ve decided that Y/N will be shipped out in Norman’s place, and the three of you will be the first children to survive up to 13. I hope you’re happy with this arrangement, Y/N.” Norman was the first to run up to you, shaking your shoulders, asking you if you were out of your mind and what you were thinking. Ray was next, giving you a good slap, to which Norman scolded Ray for, but the raven haired boy simply brushed it off.

“Idiot! What do you think you’re doing?!” You rubbed your now red cheek, but looked the three children in the eye with a serious expression.

“It’ll be better this way. This gives you guys more time to enjoy life. Besides, your brains will be more developed, so you’ll taste better.” You acted like you simply wanted the three to live longer, even throwing out that last bit to make Mom consider keeping the children alive even longer to develop their brains more. But what Mom didn’t catch was your quick wink, signaling the children that there was more to the story. Emma stepped in first, forcing herself to cry (well let’s be fair, she felt like crying as soon as she heard you’d be getting shipped out, so it wasn’t that difficult to start spilling tears) and embraced you, the two boys joining, putting on quite the believable show that they’d given up. Mom simply smiled before walking off.

When you were sure she was gone and out of ear-shot, you stepped away from your friends.

“Guys please, I know this sucks but this is our only way for us to escape! Mom’s giving you guys more time to live, so it gives you more time to train. Somebody has to die to save the rest, and I’d rather that person be me.” Yet again, you were given a hard slap, almost knocking you to the ground this time.

“You think you’re doing us a favor?! We can all survive if we just-“

“No Ray, we can’t! We don’t know what’s really out there, we don’t know what we’re up against, so be realistic! Besides, I’m tired of losing people, so this sacrifice is just doing me a favor.” With that, you stormed out the forest, leaving the 3 other children in shock.

🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷

This is pretty different from what I think the anon originally wanted, so if you want an alternative feel free to send in another request! If not, you can also request a part 2! :)

[nekoannie-chan]

Draw

Title: Draw.

Fandom: Marvel, Captain America.

Ship: Pre-serum!Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 464 words.

Square: D3 “Pre-serum.”

Rating: Teen.

Summary: Steve joined a drawing contest.

Major Tags: Fluff.

Additional tags: This is my entry to @sweetspicybingo, Sweetheart Bingo Card & square 2:

"Proud of u.”

You can read it on Wattpad and Ao3 too.

This is my entry to @cabottombingo Captain Bottom Bingo round 2. CABB2024.

Links: Wattpad, Ao3, Spanish version.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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1940

Steve watched you attentively while you read them the book you had in your hands. Bucky seemed to be falling asleep. After a long time, you decided to take a day off. Anyway, nobody was going to look for them.

“I'm going to participate in the drawing contest," Steve said, suddenly interrupting you.

“What contest?" You questioned.

“Really? You said you weren't going to do it." Bucky was puzzled.

“Yeah, well, I think I have a drawing that's perfect for the occasion." Steve was beginning to sound nervous.

You and Bucky looked at each other blankly but didn't think much of it; you needed Steve to be more confident.

“Do you have something to do on Saturday?" Steve asked as soon as you opened the door.

“Does Bucky have any ideas for a triple date?"

Whenever Steve asked you that question, it was always because Bucky already had plans and you two were probably going to be bored.

“No, it's the contest expo," Steve replied.

“I'm busy going to the contest expo," you confirmed.

The day of the contest, you were trying to find the drawing Steve had made for the occasion, but all the time he somehow or other prevented you from seeing it, you began to suspect he was hiding it, so you were more curious about what he had drawn.

In the end, he managed to distract you with the muffins that were in the place, so much so that you didn't even pay that much attention to the rest of the participating drawings anymore.

You almost threw the muffin away when they announced that Steve's drawing had won first place; it just meant that the drawing was very good.

“I'm so proud of you, Steve," you congratulated him as you left the place. The next day, you would make him some cookies to celebrate.

“You should show him what you drew, Stevie; you spent the whole exhibition avoiding Y/N to see what you did," Bucky commented. You could notice a slight malice in the tone of his voice.

"No, I don't think that's necessary."

You snatched the drawing from him when you noticed that Steve was pressing it against his thin chest and unrolled it. You were dumbfounded to see that it was a portrait of you.

“I don't look like that," you whispered. The drawing was too beautiful.

“That's how I see you," Steve mumbled.

“I have things to do," Bucky said as he left. He always knew how you two felt about each other, so he only helped them a little.

“You can draw me as many times as you want if it will win you all the contests in the world," you commented.

“I will; I will win as many times as it takes."

[silverwings22]

Song of the Sea: Chapter 8: Bought and Sold

Chapter warning: Rizz 'em with the 'tism, sexual thoughts (not explicit... yet), selling family members, canon typical violence, grand theft speeder, child endangerment Series warning: explicit smut, alien anatomy (it's a monsterfucker fic, guys), major character injury, grief, canon typical violence, autistic meltdowns, and my terrible attempts at Mando'a

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Pantora was crowded, but it seemed like a good place to try to sell what they could while Tech repaired and scrambled the signature on the ship. Hunter and Echo were taking Omega to the markets to try to get supplies, while Shiani was staying with Tech and Wrecker at the ship to gut and upgrade everything that needed to be done. While Tech and Wrecker worked on bribing the hangar attendant, she watched the other two giving Omega a quick run through of the rules. 

“Hunter?” Shiani asked after a minute, walking over as she took her chains off. “Here.” 

"What's this?" He frowned.

"You can sell metal for credits, right? And we need credits to eat…" She pressed them into his hands a little harder. "It’s the only thing I have to give, but it might help."

Hunter vaguely recalled Tech mentioning how important these were to her, and nodded. "Are you sure?"

She nodded. “They were a family heirloom… but I want this to be my new family. Please take them.”

Hunter nodded once more and waved Omega to follow him. "Thank you, then."

She waited for the three of them to be gone before adjusting her shirt. The lack of weight across her arms was unfamiliar, but it was a sacrifice she'd make for them. She wanted to belong here, with the Batch. That meant setting the past, who she'd been, aside to make room for who she might become. 

Once Wrecker pulled the engine out, she climbed into the chassis with Tech to start building that future.

The bespectacled clone worked and gave instructions, still thinking haphazardly about the cycle she'd spent on the cockpit floor with him. "Pass me that spanner. May I ask you something about our conversation yesterday?"

The purple girl handed the tool over obediently, halfway through his requested rewire of the navi-computer. "Yes?"

"When you said that you wished to remain with me, what did you mean?" He frowned, turning his attention to the signal array.

"I meant what I said. I want to be with you. Travel with you, follow where you go. See you every day." She stripped more coating off a wire and started twisting two of them together, focusing on the work to make sure she did it correctly.   

"Yes, but in what context?" He didn't look at her, multitasking to the extreme. 

"You’re my favorite person in the galaxy, Tech. What other context is there?" She blinked, turning her head to examine his profile.

Tech groaned behind his teeth. "I am not asking this correctly." Basic didn't seem so basic right now. Nuanced communication was neither of their strengths; he was blunt often to the point of appearing callous. She was too honest to read between the lines. "I mean… if you were to choose how you remained by my side. What would that choice be?"

"Whatever you need me to be. A helper, like this. Or someone to listen for hours, like back home." She fiddled with a soldering iron thoughtfully. "I just don’t want to… overstep. Or make you uncomfortable." She finally mumbled. "Can’t mess anything up between us. You’re too important to me."

Too important. Tech didn't think he'd ever been called too important to risk before. He was a black ops commando, sent to danger and death every mission since he'd graduated as a cadet. The idea that the soft, unarmored cephalopod woman thought anything about him was too important to risk was a confusing novelty. 

And it was indicative of something he had not previously considered: Shiani had a far stronger emotional attachment to him than he'd realized. One he had no idea how to determine the true depth of, or reciprocate. If this was a romantic attraction…

He had no data for once in his life. He knew so little about her species, from what she might find appealing to how their biology worked. Shiani's mind and personality he enjoyed, that was the core of their long-term friendship. But if it progressed beyond that… he didn't even know if her people had compatible bodies to his own if they… oh fuck. He was actually considering having sex with her. More than considering, he could imagine it. How a kiss might taste, what her arms would feel like around him, even the sounds she might make. The legends about sirens said their singing was hypnotic, but his imaginings produced a sweeter sound: a whimper of his name. 

"Tech?" Shiani leaned over, scooping the spanner from his fingers to keep working but giving him a curious look. "You’re sweating. Hot?"

"I am… I-" A comm chime had never been a more relieving sound. "Yes Hunter?"

"I've lost Omega. She was picked up by some woman, a bounty hunter of some kind. Kid gave her the slip but I'm tracking them both."

Tech nodded. "I will get into the traffic cameras around the city and locate her. Shiani, can you finish putting the ship back together? The signature has been scrambled."

"I can do it. But it's gonna take a while." She gestured around to half the ship laying on the ground outside of the chassis.

"Echo, get back and help Shiani. Wrecker, I need you out here." Hunter ordered.

"On the way, sarge." Wrecker nodded. 

"Enroute. I'm bringing help." Echo sounded amused. "I'm still mad you sold me for only 2000 credits."

That made Shiani squeak. "You sold Echo?!"

"I'll explain later." Hunter grumbled. "I'm about to steal a speeder. Get me coordinates, Tech."

"Copy." Tech clambered out of the ship's guts and looked back at Shiani. "I know you are capable of doing this to the same standard I would myself. I trust you."

Shiani could have flown, but instead she nodded and grinned. "I won’t let you down!" 

"Echo, use your scomp here. Thank you, fussy droid-lady." Shiani patted the protocol droid helping her. "Astromech, please weld this?"

"You're good at bossing droids around." Echo smiled as he worked. 

"Much more fun when droids talk. Dead droid heads are so boring." Shiani grinned back, using all four tentacles like a pulley system and dragging the hyperdrive back into position inside the ship. "I used to find them all over."

"Hunter is coming back with Omega. He says he has made noise in the market." Tech stuck his head out of the ramp. "Are we functional?"

"Almost, Tech!" She called back. "Where’s Wrecker?"

"He is on his way back." Tech ran out to help her get the housing back over their engines. "Very good work."

Shiani smiled, delighted at the praise. "Anything for you." 

Echo gave him a plaintive look over the top of Shiani's head. Tech adjusted his goggles and coughed to cover a blush. "Hurry into the ship, then. They are almost here."

Shiani nodded as Wrecker stumbled into the hangar they'd been working out of, holding his head. "Are you hurt?!" She frowned, tucking herself under his arm to support him.

"Just a headache." He mumbled, leaning on her so much she had to use her tentacles to keep them both upright. But she dutifully dragged him into the ship and set him in a chair. "Thanks."

"You sit. We’ll leave very soon." Shiani frowned, doubling back as Hunter and Omega came skidding into the hangar on a speeder and the sergeant scooped her onto his hip. 

"Let's go, Tech. I've got police behind me!" The sergeant yelled.

Shiani was following him inside when the hangar attendant came running out, waving his arms for them to stop. "Wait, wait! You can't leave yet, she hasn't paid me!"

The siren bared her double fangs with a hiss, mouth splitting open like it had been cut from ear to ear. "She?" 

The attendant froze. "I… oh, um…"

Whack.

A bunched tentacle decked him in the mouth with enough force to send him sprawling back into the control booth. Then Shiani was closing the hatch and the Havoc Marauder lifted off in a hurry. 

"What did you punch him for?" Echo blinked. 

"He said some lady paid him for us." She stomped over to Omega and crouched, looking at the little girl. "You hurt, Baby Mega?"

"No. I'm okay, Hunter rescued me."

"Good. Good brother." Shiani gently nuzzled her cheek against the girl's fluffy hair, smiling. "You’re safe now. Everyone’s safe. I was worried."

Omega smiled. "Me too. Who was that woman, Hunter?

He shook his head. "I don't know. Some kind of bounty hunter, but that's all I know."

Shiani hissed softly. "She can't have Baby Mega."

"No, she can't. But we need to find somewhere to lay low." Hunter sighed. "Any bright ideas?"

"I might know of something." Echo rubbed his face. "Old Jedi contact on Ord Mantell. I never met them, but Skywalker mentioned them. They could help us find out who sent the bounty hunter."

Hunter nodded. "Ord Mantell it is."

"I’ll tell Tech." Their personal utility squid smiled and headed for the cockpit. "You okay?" She asked when she walked in.

Her favorite clone looked up when she walked in. "I am fine. Have they determined where we are going? Fuel is limited, it is unwise to wander."

"Ord Mantell. Echo Chainbreaker says there’s a Jedi contact." She explained, starting to slide to the floor. Tech caught her wrist lightly. 

"The co-pilot seat is more comfortable, my dear. You do not need to sit on the floor."

"That’s Echo’s spot." She blinked. 

"Echo is not in here at the moment." He lightly guided her one handed into the seat. "I am sure he will understand."

"Okay… I don’t want to be in the way." She couldn’t help but smile at him, the glow of hyperspace and the ship's lights painting constellations across her round face. 

"I assure you that you are not. Your assistance was invaluable today." He knew he should probably let go of her arm, the armrest of his seat digging into his side where he leaned over to keep holding. But she had never looked displeased at his touch, and for once he wasn’t edging away from physical contact. He'd never been a particularly touchy person, but perhaps it was that his brothers were the only ones to display that kind of affection. And they were rough, especially Wrecker. Shiani liked to touch softly, to explore things with her fingertips, and she was always careful of those sharp claws.

Now that he'd let himself consider the possibility of an amorous encounter with her, he wondered if that tactile exploration would translate into the moment. "Shiani?"

"Yes?" She looked over with a smile.

"When we spoke earlier, you mentioned you did not want to… be too much. What did you mean by that?"

Shiani looked at his gloved hand still wrapped loosely around her wrist. "You always consider every part of everything." She finally said. "You don’t act without plans and backup plans. If you wanted something… me to be something, you would tell me." She tried to explain, hoping her tentative grasp of the words was enough. She couldn't figure out how to say that she'd been enamored of his eyes for year, or that all he had to do was give her the word and she’d be his in the time it took her to cross the room. Giving up her chains, her broken links to her people, had been easy if she imagined forging new ones that connected her to the genius sitting beside her. She'd spill every drop of blue blood in her veins if he'd just feel the same way about her, but if he didn't then she'd be happy to take whatever she could have. 

"What is it that you do want?" Tech asked after a moment. "I may not have… considered every option."

She squirmed, limbs writhing around her with embarrassment. "I don’t want to make it weird…"

"Our entire situation is atypical, Shiani. I would like to hear your perspective."

She smiled weakly. “I want everything, Tech."

He frowned. "Why?"

“When I lost everything, you gave me something to believe in. Every time you came back to see me, when I was just a weird little siren who couldn’t even talk to you… it meant so much to me. So I tried to learn everything you had to teach, so I could stay near you." She stopped short of saying she loved him, but he deserved to know why he mattered so much to her.

"I do not know what to do with this knowledge." Tech admitted. 

"You don’t have to do anything. I don’t expect anything." She smiled sheepishly. "I’m just here for you."

"I appreciate the consideration. I will… figure it out." He murmured, finally making himself let go of her arm. 

She nodded. "I’ll let you think, then."

When she'd glided out of the cockpit, Tech sank back into his seat a little. He needed a sounding board for his thoughts, there were too many to keep straight. Hunter would probably laugh at him, Wrecker was not going to be helpful… Omega was a literal child and he might have had a hard time reading a room more often than not, but he doubted it was a good idea to ask a kid about if he should initiate a relationship with a woman of another species. He hit the PA. "Echo, could you come to the cockpit for a moment?"

Three minutes and sixteen seconds later, the cyborg brother walked in. "What did you break?"

"Why would you assume something is broken? Or that I would only call you if it was?" Tech huffed.

"I'm your usual fix-it buddy and Shiani just left the room. So either she doesn't know how to fix it, or you're embarrassed to tell her you don't." Echo shrugged, dropping into his seat. "So what's broken?"

"Nothing is damaged. I require your input." Tech groaned. "I have encountered a dilemma that I believe you would have valuable input on."

"Uh huh." Echo smirked and got comfortable, stretching his metal legs out. "And would this 'dilemma' have four extra arms and currently be letting Omega draw on her in glitter pen?"

Tech scrunched into the seat. "... yes."

"Alright, shoot. What's the problem?" Echo enjoyed being a little shit whenever possible, he'd been in the 501st and around Fives too long not too. But Tech did look upset, and he was a good brother at heart. So he leaned over to give the genius his full attention. 

"Shiani has confessed that she has an… emotional attachment to me. She did not specify it was romantic in nature, but it was heavily implied." Tech frowned. 

"No shit. I could have told you that the first time I saw her through the window. She looks at you like you hung the stars, vod."

"That is what I do not understand. Of the group of us, why me?" Tech's brow wrinkled, shifting his goggles out of place. "I seem to be the least logical choice for her to place her affection."

"What makes you say that?" Echo quirked an eyebrow. "You've known her longest. Makes sense to me."

"Crosshair had the best luck with women." Tech blinked. 

"And tried to shoot us."

"Hunter is the more conventionally attractive. Wrecker is most empathetic. And you were the one she compared to the heroes of her culture." Tech's know-it- all index finger pointed up, but lacked the strength of his usual conviction. He just looked confused and a little upset. 

Prime, if you're up there I'm gonna need you to come back from the dead and save me from my own family. Echo thought, lifting his eyes to give him strength. "Tech… you di'kut. None of us were there for her like you were. That's why she picked you."

"Proximity does not make me the best choice-" Tech started. 

"It makes connection, Tech. Feelings aren't logical. She's not a droid scanning us for the best fit. She's a nice girl with a crush on a clueless brainiac." Echo smiled. "The real question is what are you going to do about it?"

"I… am not sure."

"Do you like her?"

"Of course. We have been friends for several years."

"I meant romantically. You wanna kiss her?"

Tech flushed. "It has crossed my mind."

"Then that's a start. Tell her, and I'm pretty sure she'll let you. Like I said, she looks at you like you hung the stars. She'd probably be up for anything."

"That is what I am concerned about. There is no data on her species. I have no information about how to go about engaging in anything with her. In addition, our dynamic has been relatively constant since we first met. Any change could be detrimental, and irreversible."

"Then you're in for the experiment of a lifetime. Just relax, tell her you're interested, and let it happen as it happens. She's already got it bad for you, she left home just cause you were leaving too. Doesn't get much clearer than that." Echo patted his arm. "I'm going to grab a ration bar. You want one?"

"Not right now, but thank you. And thank you for your input." Tech nodded, adjusting his goggles for the millionth time. 

"No problem." Echo got up, pausing at the cockpit door. "And Tech?"

"Yes?"

"Quit thinking." Echo walked out. Tech groaned and leaned against the headrest. Easier said than done.

[catboydogma]

🍉🍊🍍🍇 for the ask game ^.^ ?

there is a whole basket in here!! thank u sm :D

fruity lil ask game

🍉 - Do you prefer to write short fics or long fics? Multichaptered works or single ones? Why?

for convenience and publishing/interaction i like short fics (easier and faster to get them out, they're one and done so i dont have to worry about them after like a night or two of writing, and they tend to get a higher popularity:effort ratio lol) but i like WRITING long fics, especially with multiple chapters. i have some kind of beast in me that turns what should be short story ideas into full length novels. i get an idea and oobh baby i just get so excited about naming chapters and engineering subplots and making up some nice Motifs and Themes. vide noir and CHTHONIC are good examples honestly, i originally planned for both of them to be single works--so vide noir got weird pacing and then dropped and picked back up as a result and i essentially wrote CHTHONIC in one night, went "oh god this is too fucking long" and chopped it in three pieces. i just like things to have a slow release arc when writing and plotting, so long works with multiple stages and movements are just extremely satisfying for me to both plot and execute lol

🍊- Who’s a character you don’t write for that often, but keep meaning to write for more? (They’re so interesting! But maybe you have trouble pinning them down, or keep getting distracted by another blorbo…)

DOGMAAAA. yeah. sorry everyone who followed me for the url and my early dogma fics. i do have a longfic force sensitive dogma in the works (VERY preliminary works) but i do keep getting distracted lol. i've always wanted to write a hanzo shimada-pov overwatch fic, and i'm really tempted by one day writing a qui-gon or qui-gon-and-obi-wan centric fic.

🍍- What kind of AUs do you like? Are there any AUs you hate or just generally have beef with?

i honestly like any au that's real fucking weird or takes a stock au and puts a twist in it (eg i had SUCH a fun time writing chronic illness hanahaki in heavy off a golden hue). even though they usually are my least-read/-commented fics, i also have a huge soft spot for niche fusion aus, like sw in pacific rim dark day/brighter night or sw in overwatch where the stray things go (more coming soon?? perhaps 😌) or the cyberpunk au with empire & the sun .

i usually won't read/write soulmate aus (i did enjoy writing them but both one billion day funeral and give the world away/wake up lonely were both prompt fills) because 1) the base soulmate au contrivance is tedious (IMO. NOTHING WRONG WITH ENJOYING WHAT YOU ENJOY. I SIMPLY DO NOT ENJOY IT) and 2) to me it's simply not worth wading through the oodles of soulmate au to find one that has an interesting "how do you know your soulmate" worldbuilding idea AND handles the whole "soulmate" thing in an interesting manner. i also will never write a time travel fic because i do not like time travel. not really sure what it is but i've always despised time travel as a plot device lol. but i have read a couple that i quite enjoyed (reccing miyaji_08's and back we go and blueberrywizard's i have seen too much (i haven't seen enough) and cjwritesfanficnow's (you were) meant to save them for this) so i'm not the man i once was ....

🍇- What’s your favorite underrated thing in your fandom? (A ship that only you seem to write for, a character there’s almost no fics about, a trope that criminally hasn’t been written yet, etc.)

ouagh i feel like in my time in sw servers and talking to other sw friends that i've gone on and on about stuff that i find underrated but i've forgotten everything i've ever said about star wars now. i'm not really In There but spymaster satine (can't remember who brought this to me, maybe @/deniigi?) e.g. a satine that is a pacific willing to get her hands dirty like, you know, an actual and productive pacifist and not just a "hm .... i simply choose to do nothing" kind of "pacifist." relatedly, and i haven't done much for this so i'm a hypocrite, i'm a padme/satine truther. i also loooooove fics where the GAR structure is changed so the clone commanders have rank over the jedi but criminally i think i've only read like one (GO READ FIRST CHOICE BY SMILEBACKWARDS!!!)

[holly-fixation]

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

🧃 ⇢ share some personal lore you never posted about before

Does personal lore mean it has to be about me?? I'm gonna assume yes?? I can't tell what this question wants. My personal lore is that I hated reading for most of my life. I mean more than 80% of my life. Ironic, I know. It's still incredibly difficult for me to pick up a book and just read! Somehow this did not transfer to fanfic. It's one of the few things I can read without getting fatigue.

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairing

Let's stick with good old Zack and Sephiroth for this one. I head Canon Zack is very good at brushing Sephiroth's hair. HOWEVER, in the wing AUs where Sephiroth's wing appears while he's still sane, Zack is garbage at preening. It takes too long! It's not intentional that he gets impatient and less and less careful. This has lead to tearing multiple chunks of feathers from brushing too fast.

The biggest problem is accidentally ripping a feather out from its root. Sephiroth's instincts kick in and he suddenly attacks the offender, no matter who it is. He only injures Zack once before having enough control to stop himself. Zack never holds it against him. It becomes a quiet night of the two being close until Sephiroth no longer feels overwhelming guilt for what he's done.

Sorry, got a little carried away. A well known bit of personal lore: everything I write becomes angst.

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Hojo is incredibly interesting. Yes the man is a complete sociopath, but I cannot deny the steps to his madness and how it grew throughout the game and fascinating to me.

I really don't have many unpopular opinions (at least not with the Tumblr crowd). Ships though? Different story.

🔪 ⇢ what's the weirdest topic you researched for a writing project?

So in The Last Straw, I came up with this completely bullshit idea: a child with a significantly higher concentration of Jenova cells cannot absorb any nutrients except meat based protein (or the lab made equivalent). This is based off the fact that Jenova in that world survives on the lifestreams of planets, and if you look at a food chain and think of the planet as one more link, Her species is Always a predator.

I realize now, after writing all of this, that the question does ask for backstory. Woops.

Anyway, I was trying to BS a name for this condition. Then I found the significantly less severe condition of malabsorption. On a surface level, it's a condition where the body does not absorb nutrients/absorb them properly. So because this was so different than anything else I've researched, it sticks out.

🪲 ⇢ add 50 words to your current wip and share the paragraph here

The blond landed on the vehicle and Strife swiftly removed the blade. Every second they wasted on this transition meant more firepower on the truck. Cloud grabbed the handlebars with his left hand and the Buster Sword with his right. Together they swept through Shinra's ground forces, men knocked off their vehicles and onto the unforgiving pavement.

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@altocat - always kind and let's me steal her ideas

@prismaticpichu - a font of kindness who always has a Fluffy idea cooking. Great when I need some joy.

@winter-doggo - his art always makes me smile. And he still leaves great comments on my fics despite my sudden lack of online interaction.

And you! Yes you, @shadowbanshee , because you're one of the only people that's left me asks like the ones I see for everyone else I follow. I still see likes for the "CC Sephiroth finds CCTV footage of Lucrecia" from December!

I'm not saying there aren't others. I just don't want this post to be any bigger lol. Know if I didn't mention you, I still appreciate you!

[hekateinhell]

this is from a while ago but you mention on that poll about armand's love interests you have a few different ways you interpret the blood communion speech armand gives lestat about loving him. i'm curious what your takes are, if you don't mind sharing :) as a daniel/armand shipper, i've always read a lot into the fact daniel isn't name-dropped - as though he's an exception or what they have is something more than just love... though the out of universe explanation is probably just he was forgotten (also apologies if you answered this before and i missed it)

Actually, I know I talk about Lestat and Armand a lot and I've certainly spoken about that scene plenty, but I don't think I've broken down my various interpretations in post form before. I don't mind sharing but remember, you asked! ♥️

I have four basic interpretations, the first of which I use for meta purposes and the others for headcanons/fic as needed.

Interpretation 1: Armand does love Lestat the most. This is the canon read and the one I default to because it's quite literally in the text. I know with VC we tend to selectively 'read between the lines' (I'm guilty as hell), but there's also times where Anne meant exactly what she wrote and I do find it extremely consist with Armand's characterization up to this point.

I'm not saying it's necessarily a healthy love, or even a romantic one though! In my opinion, it's at least in part related to the fact that Lestat's almost always present when Armand's going through some of the most traumatic events in his life (neither of them exhibit anything close to a healthy attachment style). Because these are not two mutually exclusive things, I do tend to read them as having more of an all encompassing, soul-connection type of love. Both can be true.

From 'does anyone else know the size of your soul?' to 'in my wanderings, I always return to you' to 'I have loved you more than any being in all the world whom I’ve ever loved' -- Armand simply does not talk to or about anyone else like this in canon. The depth and intensity of Armand's love for Lestat has been a very persistent thread since TVL through to BC and it seems to be rooted in a genuine passion and appreciation for Lestat's character, flaws and all (because oh boy, can Armand list them all or what?).

I adore them as a ship, but this is not the scene in BC that has me kicking my little legs with glee (honestly, I find it tragic for all involved):

“Fool,” he said again. His voice was roughened now by emotion he couldn’t suppress. “I have always loved you,” he said. “I have loved you more than any being in all the world whom I’ve ever loved. I have loved you more than Louis. I have loved you more even than Marius. And you have never given me your love. I would be your most faithful counselor, if you allowed it. But you don’t. Your eyes pass over me as if I don’t exist. And so they always have.”

“I hate you as much as I have ever loved you,” he said. [...]. I understand the very definition of ‘hate’ when I think of you.” ~ Armand, BC

Like, it's heartbreaking! I don't want this like this! Your ask is related to Armand's POV and I've already posted at length how the text (and Anne) very clearly states that Lestat does, in fact, love Armand very much so I won't get into that further here, but... yeah, yikes. I want better for Armand, I want Louis. 🤧

I'm sad now.

Interpretation 2: Armand does not love Lestat more than Louis, Marius, (or Daniel). This seems to be the more popular read and I totally get why, and I can work with it in theory!

If Armand wanted to shock Lestat back to life and into reacting and doing something about the situation, throwing Louis's and Marius's names around seems like a decent bet. Loving Louis and Marius deeply is something that Lestat can understand, it's something he and Armand have in common; it's yet another thing that bonds them together for better or worse.

Daniel isn't anyone particularly special to Lestat, what would be the point in Armand bringing him up at a time like this? He's a cunning guy, he's choosing his words carefully.

Interpretation 3: Armand's straight up traumatized and broken thinking Marius and Louis are dead and gone, and he's desperately trying to cling to Lestat for dear life because he's the only one he has left (channel Anne and forget about Daniel for a second here). Unfortunately, all their issues that have been festering and compounding since 1791 rear their ugly head and explode rather spectacularly.

What you get is a combination of 'I love you more than anyone; I hate you more than anyone.'

RIP.

Interpretation 4: Armand loves Daniel most of all. And I think I typically tie it into the second one. Yes, Armand loves Daniel more than Lestat, Louis, and Marius. No, he's not going mention him to Lestat for reasons listed above and/or he's not going to downplay his love for Daniel like that. He's a gentleman!

Bonus Interpretation 5: Anne forgot Daniel, plain and simple; I waste years of my life.

All that being said, I don't think Armand walks around with a hierarchy in his head of everyone he loves. He obviously has an abundance of love to give and he loves so fiercely! Pick your read and run with it, I sure do ;)

[trlvsn]

I hope you won’t mind elaborating, please ignore this message if it makes you uncomfortable, but I am terribly intrigued by the correlation between shipping narumitsu and having attachement issues, and I would love to hear your thoughts - either on the pattern you’ve noticed, or on why you think one would lead to the other? Sincerely, a sceptical of the idea that our fictional preferences reflect who we are (who also just happens to ship narumitsu lol) (this is all /lh and /genuinely interested btw my signature is meant to be tongue in cheek not passive-aggressive)

this doesn't make me uncomfortable at all! in fact, i'm happy to elaborate. i would, however, like to start this by saying i meant the case majority of nrmt shippers, not every single one, so if this doesn't apply to you - honestly, great news for your future and present relationships with people.

anyways. when i started reading narumitsu fanfiction, i noticed a pattern. people tend to make the characters pass the "i will find you and help you" role like a hot potato between the characters depending on the time of the events in the fanfic - if it's feenie or aa1 era, phoenix is the one who writes endless letters and seeks miles out, if it's aa3-aa4, edgeworth is the one who flies across the ocean to see wright or helps him financially and emotionally during the disbarment. each time, that borderline obsessive behavior gets romanticized and turns into the basic formula of "i'm in pain, closed off and not who i really am - let me help you despite your constant refusals - okay i'm better now. i love you also". i don't mean to say it's inherently bad to write stuff like that or that it makes the relationship toxic, i'm simply hyperbolizing and making an overall point.

another thing about those fics is that the hurt/comfort is usually centered on the one who needs the comfort. if phoenix helps miles get over the turnabout goodbyes trial, holds him after an earthquake or saves him "again", it's usually a miles-centered fic, and the disbarment ones are a phoenix study. it can be the other way around, of course, but the ones described earlier made me have a realization.

as i've stated in my nrmt analysis post, what they would have had before turnabout succession is just... not that healthy in my eyes? not long term healthy, at least. so i feel like nrmt fans tend to have a warped sense of what love and relationships are, constantly defining phoenix and miles by what they do for each other and what they mean to each other, not by their individual growth. phoenix often gets too much credit for saving miles, miles gets assigned the role of the one who was always there during the 7yg and helped take down kristoph, etc. again, not bad!! just interesting.

and with all of that being portrayed as this big romantic thing, i just feel like the narumitsu fans can be divided into different groups. if you like phoenix-centered bratfeen and aa1-3 wrightworth, you are likely to disregard your emotional needs for the sake of another person, idealize then, and to have experienced parental neglect or betrayal and abandonment of some kind, which can lead to an anxious attachment style. the people who like aa1-3 wrightworth with explorations of miles and disbarment fics about phoenix might have an idea in their head that no one understands them and never will, have a tendency to isolate themselves and have an avoidant attachment style. it might get mixed up too. of course, this is no way scientifically credible or well-spoken, it's like two am for me, what am i doing. but anyway, with the way nrmt shippers practically tie these two together by their identities... yeah.

again. absolutely no shade or hate or anything similar. i'm a huge narumitsu enjoyer. i have 333 bookmarks on ao3 and god knows some of them are exactly what I described above. but a girl has to speak her mind.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Cold Comforts

Prompts: Sorry if this is too much, but do you think you could maybe do another hurt Roman fic. I absolutely eat that stuff up. My idea what the after POF Roman just disappears. He’s not in his room, the mind palace, the house. The others think they’ve checked the imagination to its full extent, but they miss one part (but you can’t necessarily blame them). Roman has trapped himself in a hidden and/or invisible castle on his half of the imagination. Slowly, he begins to fade/disappear, believing the others would be better off without him. But, as he goes, so do the things that belong to him. Items in his room start to go missing. Small trinkets turn to computers and posters. Computers and posters turn into chairs and furniture. Furniture turns into literally every single thing in his room, and then that turns into the room itself. Roman won’t disappear until everything he’s tied to does. That means his room disappears, the gifts he’s given others vanish, the videos he’s featured in start to glitch and have to be taken down, his writing and art are nowhere to be found. Everything he’s made in the imagination goes poof, but that also means that castle he’s made to ‘protect’ himself. Since that’s last things that needed to go, Roman is on the brink of disappearing forever when everyone finds him. I would write it but I just don’t have a lot of motivation right now, and I’m so tired my writing comes off as gibberish. I don’t mind any ships, but I’m definitely leaning towards found family and I really love how you write the creativitwins. That’s all I really have. Throw however much angst in as you want. I just like projecting onto imaginary characters :) thanks - anon

hi again! i’m still obsessed with your Roman angst writing. Amazing, by the way ☺️ I hope you don’t mind me asking for more. So how about some Logince where Logan and Roman have a heated argument that results in Logan snapping at Roman. Roman is scared off by that and sinks out while Logan regrets his actions. Roman then avoids Logan all day and doesn’t talk to him. Until later in the middle of the night when Logan finds Roman crying on the kitchen floor and eating Crofters. Logan then takes that chance to make things right and learns a lot more about Roman. Some concerning stuff and some interesting stuff. I hope that isn’t too much! Keep up the good writing, friendo! - lio-the-chaotic-nonbeanie-weenie

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-doubt, self-esteem issues, ducking out kind of

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5151

Some arguments between Logan and Roman stay as little bits of contention.

Logan will bring up a point and Roman will read it wrong; either he'll make a joke that won't be received well or he'll take it as an insult when it wasn't intended that way. Logan will explain what he meant and the two of them will settle a little, at least until they can get back into the flow of the conversation and move past it.

Or Roman will let slip a comment he should've kept to himself and Logan will draw himself up, at least until Roman can apologize and claw it back, or he'll smirk and let loose a quip of his own and forgiveness will go unstated. They'll bounce off of each other until the conversation gets back on the rails.

This isn't one of those arguments.

"If you were capable of seeing reason, we wouldn't be in this position in the first place."

"Oh, and you think that just because you're Logic that you hold the monopoly on rationality?"

"Yes. By definition."

Roman throws his hands up, almost knocking over some of the papers. "So why do the rest of us even bother? Matter of fact, why do you even bother with the rest of us? If we're so unteachable and ridiculous?"

"Believe me, I've had the same thought many times." Logan juts his chin upward and looks down his nose at Roman. "Although some of you are more teachable than others."

"Oh, here we go again! 'Roman's stupid, Roman's dumb, Roman's un-teachable—'"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to! It's written all over your stupid prideful face every single time I say something that doesn't line up perfectly with what you want to hear!"

"Resorting to exceedingly childish insults isn't making you look any better."

"Yeah, well, what else am I supposed to do?"

"Perhaps take a breath and listen to me so then I can explain why you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong. Maybe you should take a breath and listen to me."

Logan laughs, loud and cruel. "I should listen to you? When I need to fill my head with nonsense I have much better sources for it."

"Nonsense?"

"Yes, Roman, nonsense. This is nonsense, right now. We should have been finished about half an hour ago but you keep insisting that—"

"Because you don't know about this!" Roman gestures emphatically to the papers scattered about the table. "You don't know how to do this, you don't know how to come up with things like I do, so you have to come to me! And you have to listen to me!"

"I don't have to do anything, Roman."

"Well, if you want a halfway decent idea, then yeah, actually, you do."

Logan's mouth twitches and his hand tenses on his pen. "Arrogance is not going to do a better job of convincing me than insults."

"I'm not being arrogant, I'm telling you the truth."

"Thinking yourself irrevocably better than someone else is arrogance. Or have you somehow forgotten the meaning of the word?"

"I know what it means, don't patronize me. How come you get to be Logic and say that no one else is capable of rational thought but I can't say I'm Creativity and thus I'm naturally better at coming up with things?"

"Because I didn't say that no one else was capable of rational thought. I said that you of all people are incapable of seeing reason."

"What the hell's the difference?"

Logan smiles smugly, sitting up a little straighter. "Perhaps if you were capable of understanding reason I wouldn't need to explain it to you."

Roman growls, his hands curling into fists and Logan raises a scolding eyebrow.

"Careful, Roman. You're letting your emotions get the better of you. Again."

"I'm letting—you're antagonizing me!"

"I'm not sure you know what that word means either."

"I don't—don't you sit there and tell me I don't know what an antagonist is," Roman splutters, pointing a finger like a dagger at Logan, "and you don't have the high ground right now either."

"Why not?"

"You're insulting me as often as I'm insulting you!"

"So you can admit you've been insulting me."

Roman fumes. "So have you!"

"No. I have been pointing out facts."

"Insulting facts."

"Facts are most often insulting to people who lack the intellectual capacity to understand them."

"Lack the—are you capable of going a single sentence without calling me stupid?"

"Go a single sentence without being stupid and I won't have to."

"And here I thought you were supposed to be useful."

The room stills. Logan's face freezes for a moment and Roman winces internally. That's a button he shouldn't have pressed. Sure, maybe he wanted to needle Logan for making him so upset but he shouldn't have gone there. That's a sore spot that hasn't healed yet. He should apologize. He should apologize right now.

"I—"

"I am useful," Logan says, his voice dangerously low.

"Logan, I—"

"You, on the other hand," he continues, ignoring Roman's attempt to apologize, "are nothing but a waste of time."

Any words Roman may have had in his throat choke off. He gulps around empty air, staring at Logan.

"Are you capable of thinking of anyone but yourself? Do you understand that you are not so important that everything revolves around you?" Logan hasn't stood up, but the way he's just glaring at Roman makes it feel like he's looming over him. "You think yourself, what, some great presence or some great menace that I have to vanquish?"

Scrabbling for words in a filling grave, Roman grabs a chunk of dirt that buries him alive.

"I'm not Remus."

Logan's eyes flash dangerously. "No, Roman. You are not Remus. Remus has a function. Remus serves a purpose. And Remus, despite what you think of him—"

I love him. I love him, he's my brother, he's my Remus. I'm sorry, Re, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry.

"—is actually capable of listening to reason. You, Roman, you are not. At best you are a nuisance and a mild inconvenience, one easily dealt with and not worth the time it takes to do so."

He takes a moment to collect himself.

"I am busy. I cannot afford to waste time on you. If you are so determined to thrill me with impossible feats, go and find somewhere you are wanted."

Roman's chest burns.

He stares wordlessly at Logan, who just stares back at him. Against all hopes he wants Logan to take it back, the way he was going to, to apologize or realize what he just said or something, something, but he doesn't. He just stares at Roman and glares and then he turns away.

He packs up his things and leaves.

Roman is left alone.

He stares after him for a long time, still in shock. The words bounce around and around his head like bullets ricocheting off metal plates only to score grazes in every surface. They replay over and over and over until they threaten to swallow him whole.

He's not stupid. He's not stupid. He knows that there are ways to draw attention to himself that aren't good and that he—he can be a nuisance sometimes. And in being a nuisance, he's cultivated an atmosphere where the lack of him is to be looked forward to. But he—he's not stupid. He knows that where that comes from is the opposite; everything he's done, every part of the persona he's crafted, is in defiance of that invisibility.

This isn't a revelation, he realizes, but the difference between knowing and knowing. The kind that gets sobbed into your pillow in the dead of night.

And in that petty, spiteful, semantic kind of defiance that children are so often accused of, he sinks out to his room because that's where Patton said he wants him to stay.

He stumbles around the room in a state of shock, clumsy and inelegant and utterly irredeemable, knocking into his bookshelf and his desk and almost tripping over a notebook he left lying on the floor. He strips off the prince costume and throws it away like it burns to touch, staggering to the bed in nothing but undershirt and boxers and crawling under the covers.

He shouldn't be doing this. He's just proving Logan right. But he doesn't want to be something other than he is right now and if Logan thinks he's a stupid child that throws temper tantrums and sulks when he doesn't get his way, then he's allowed to curl up into a ball and clutch his hand to his chest. It's still hurting, the words still dragging themselves over his exposed nerves, and he curls up around it like he could offer it protection.

He should go to someone, he knows. They've all been trying to get better about asking for help and support. He should get up and go—but who would he go to?

Patton would want to hear everything that happened and he'd be scolded for being so mean to Logan. Patton would make him go apologize right then and there and he doesn't think he could bear going anywhere near Logan right now.

Virgil would take Logan's side immediately, he's sure of it. Virgil calls him stupid all the time, he'd probably be happy that someone finally told you like it is, Princey, deal with it.

Janus would take Logan's side too. Not because he'd necessarily agree with him—even though he would—but because it's not Roman's side.

Remus…Remus would hate him.

A pained noise leaves the safety of the covers and Roman only belatedly realizes it's him. He doesn't want to go and expose himself anymore to the possibility of being hurt. He wants to run away and lick his wounds and be upset all by himself. He doesn't want to be accused of being attention-seeking and overdramatic and all of that, doesn't want to be lectured and scolded and then—only then—offered the barest scraps of comfort like a starving animal being tossed a bone. He doesn't want to be hurt and then have them say it's for his own good. He doesn't want that, he doesn't want that, he doesn't want that.

He wants someone to just come and hold him. To say it's okay that he's upset—not even that he was right or that Logan shouldn't have said that or even that it's all going to be okay.

He just wants someone to comfort him. It doesn't have to be big or sweeping or anything, they don't have to stay for a long time, they don't—it doesn't have to be large or—or complicated, he doesn't—he just wants a hug, okay? Or not even a hug, it doesn't have to be a hug, it can just be a touch or something—or not even that, it can just be a—a look, or a nod or—okay, it doesn't even have to be that, okay? He just—he just wants—

He just wants, okay?

Roman's eyes start to grow heavy and he curls up tighter, limp and aching fingers brushing against his face as he almost nuzzles into his hand. He moves his head until he can get his nose tucked into the space under his thumb and feel the shuddering of his own breath against his palm. Oh, he wants and wants and wants and in the safety of the covers he can pretend.

"Shh," he mumbles in a half-voice that he's more thinking than saying, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay."

He brushes his lips against the skin there and it almost feels like a kiss.

"Shh, it's okay, it's okay, shh…it's alright. It's okay. It's okay, it's okay." He does it again, trying to narrow his focus down to just that, the gentleness of the touch and the shaking voice from his own throat. "It's alright. Shh, it's alright."

His fingers twitch from a small gust that blows under the blanket and he moves, pressing it deeper into the chasm between his chest and the bed and lets his breath blow warm and stuffy over the skin again.

"Shh-shh-shh," he warbles in broken half-tones, "it's okay, it's okay, it's okay."

Slowly, he works himself back from the brink, mumbling the half-comfort to his hand until the thought of moving no longer threatens to tear him apart. He keeps at it as he drags himself from beneath the covers, as he drags on a t-shirt and shorts, mumbling that it's okay, we just have to go get something to eat, then we can come back and sleep. He keeps the hand pressed to his chest, holding his breath as he creeps down the stairs.

It's late. Well past midnight. The others are likely gone to their separate corners of the Mindscape. Had he the wherewithal to notice he might feel ridiculous, stealing away like a thief in the night as he makes his way to his own kitchen, but all he has space for is the lifeline of comfort that he still murmurs in the darkness.

"Just a little further," he mumbles, "almost there."

The kitchen looms in sharp lines and cold surfaces. He lumbers in and goes to the cabinet, reaching up for the one food he knows he can eat. The fingers on his useful hand brush against the cool glass of the Crofter's bottle and he takes it down, slumping to the floor and curling up, only belatedly realizing he didn't grab a spoon and groping around until he can get one.

It's his jar, almost empty, but just enough left that if he eats it he can make it until morning.

The spoon clinks and rattles as he props the jar up in his lap, eating clumsily until he can scrape the spoon around the edges and get the last of it. He starts crying somewhere in the middle and he only notices because it starts to taste salty.

Almost done, he thinks to his hand, almost there. It's okay. Shh, shh, it's okay.

He's just about to throw the empty jar away and skulk back to his room when the stairs creak.

Don't come here. Oh, god, please don't come in here.

The footsteps get closer. He curls up tighter, thinking maybe he won't be seen in the dark. They get closer.

A shadow looms in the sliver of light from the window.

Don't see me. Please don't see me.

A figure rounds the corner and stops, staring down at him. Its eyes narrow behind glasses as it sees the jar clutched in Roman's hands.

Logan doesn't get the chance to say anything before Roman is gone.

He drops into some random part of the Imagination and just runs. His bare feet cry out in protest as he runs over jagged rocks and sharp stones but he pushes onward. His hand lies useless in the wind, just aching from the memory of harsh words and the panic of being discovered by Logan. The frightened animal that lives in his brain digs its teeth into the soft part of his heart and makes him run faster, faster, faster.

Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted. Somewhere he's wanted.

Unbeknownst to him, the Imagination is building him something. A tall tower, high enough that its head loses itself in the clouds, invisible save for the way clouds can't pass through it, where he can curl up in a small room and be far away from everyone else. It waits until he collapses from sheer exhaustion, carrying him up, up, up, closing itself around him until he's locked in.

Roman doesn't notice any of that. He's too busy curled around his hand again, trying to murmur to it, comfort it, drag himself out of this ache again. He chokes on the words it's okay and it's alright and so he gasps out shh, shh, shh.

Sobs force their way out of his throat and it just hurts. He keeps trying, struggling to shush them, to shush his hand, to shush himself, to give himself something, anything, just to make it stop.

But his hand is just a hand and the pain is just pain. There's no tragedy in it, no pity in it, nothing redeemable or salvageable from the mess he's made.

He really is stupid.

* * *

A jar, discarded and empty on the kitchen floor. It clinks as it rolls over the boards until it comes to a stop, resting in the shadow of the stove.

Its label, half rubbed away from being handled, still clings stubbornly to the glass. One of the letters is still visible, just slightly, the single 'R' barely more than an outline in the faint light from the windows.

The lid is still up on the counter, laid on its back, cold and alone on the flat surface. The jar is somewhere else, air blowing through the empty spaces where it should be.

It fades away as the morning sun dawns, still empty.

* * *

"Hey, Pat," Virgil calls as he walks downstairs, "have you seen Roman?"

Patton frowns, glancing around the living room. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Something really weird is happening and I think it's his fault."

"What's going on?"

Virgil comes into the kitchen and holds up his phone. One of their videos is playing but as they watch, it starts to glitch, skipping back and forth as though someone's dragging the slider.

"Huh. That's weird."

"Right?"

"Why do you think Roman has something to do with this?"

"'Cause all the parts it's skipping are the parts with him in it. And look at this." Virgil taps through a menu. "See?"

The thumbnails with Roman in them are conspicuously missing a certain prince. Patton puts his hands on his hips. "Well, that is strange."

"That's what I said. So yeah, we need to find him."

"I haven't seen him in a few days, I don't think. I guess I thought he was busy."

"Well, great, who was the last person to see him?"

"See who?"

"Do not do that," Virgil grumbles, helping himself up from the stair rail as Janus strides from the shadows, "you'll make me break something."

"Oh, relax, you're fine."

Virgil mutters something decidedly unflattering and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Have you seen Roman?"

"Not for a while, no." He frowns. "Why, is something wrong?"

They show him what's happening to the videos and he hums.

"That's…that's not good."

"No, it isn't."

"We need to find Remus."

"Wait, what? Why Remus?"

"He's the one who'll most likely know what Roman's done to cause this." Janus is already striding away. "Come on. We need to hurry."

They do, because as they walk they realize that Roman's poster is gone. Then his paintings. They break into a run when they see that his door is no longer bright red.

"Remus," Janus barks as they tear into the other living room, "Remus, we need you now."

As soon as Remus appears they know he knows already. He's almost frothing at the mouth, his hands itching around his Morningstar as he glares at them.

"What did you do," he snarls, "where is he?"

"We were coming to ask you," Virgil says, his hands raised, "we haven't seen him. We don't know."

Remus glares at all of them before looking at Janus, who nods. "He's Fading. He's trying to disappear. We need to find him now."

"Wait, Fading? What's that mean?"

"Like ducking out but worse, 'cause he's Creativity and I'll be happy to explain this once he's back. Now who saw him last?"

"Not me," Patton says, "I only saw him at breakfast a few days ago with everyone."

"That's the last time I saw him too."

"Janus?"

"We met up briefly to discuss a show but he had to leave early. Said he was…"

Remus growls as Janus trails off. "Said he was what?"

"…meeting with Logan. He had to go meet with Logan."

No sooner has Janus finished speaking, Remus reaches out a hand and yanks. A body falls to the ground in front of him.

"Start talking, bitch boy," he snarls, stalking over to loom over Logan, "what the fuck did you do to my brother?"

"I didn't—I don't know—"

An animalistic roar leaves Remus's throat and he hefts the Morningstar, ready to bring it down when Virgil catches his wrist.

"Hey, hey, easy! If you hurt him, we won't find out what happened!"

"He hurt Roman."

"We don't know that for sure, Remus, just—just take a second, okay?"

"I don't care—"

"Look at him," Janus interrupts quickly, "Remus, look at him."

Remus growls and tears himself free from Virgil's hold but does. Logan is still on the ground, his hands raised in surrender, glasses askew on his face. His shirt is dirty, tie mussed and torn, scratches on his arms and neck.

Wait.

"You were looking for him," Remus spits, "in the Imagination, weren't you?"

Logan swallows. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because you're right. He's Fading and he's not anywhere else and that's the only place he can be but I don't know where else to look."

"Why is he Fading," Patton asks as Virgil has to hold Remus back again, "what happened?"

Janus gives Logan a warning look as he opens his mouth.

"…we had an argument."

"I get into arguments with Princey all the time," Virgil says sharply, "they don't end with Roman Fading."

"I may have said some things."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I—we're running out of time, we need to find him—ah!"

Remus, quicker than Virgil, shoots forward and pins Logan to the wall, Morningstar thrust against his chest. Logan winces as the spikes dig into him and Remus just growls.

"If you do not tell me exactly what you said to him," he says in a calm voice, "you and I are gonna run a little experiment on how hard it is to break the human spine."

Logan swallows. "I…I called him stupid. I said he—that he was incapable of listening to reason and that he—he should go somewhere where he was wanted."

"Why," Virgil growls, "in the fuck did you do that?"

"I was angry," he defends weakly, "I—I didn't mean it, I just wanted to hurt him—"

"Congratulations," Janus says lowly, "you did. You hurt him so badly he wants to disappear."

"I didn't know that," Logan says impatiently, "and I was trying to fix it! I went and looked for him the moment I'd calmed down enough to realize it was wrong and he wasn't anywhere! I only managed to find him that night in the kitchen and he vanished before I could say a thing!"

"Remus," Janus says softly, pulling Remus back, "we need to look in the Imagination. You know it better than the rest of us, where is he?"

Remus glares at Logan one more time before stalking to the door and ripping it open. "He's going to be hidden. The Imagination is him when he gets like this, if he's scared and hurt it's going to protect him."

But the Imagination they step into isn't rolling fields or towering castles or fairytale woods. It's glitching messes of clumps of grass and loose bricks, a white and lifeless sky overhead. Remus growls and breaks into a run.

"Look for anything that is still intact," he barks over his shoulder, "that'll be the last to go."

They run for hours.

A broken scarecrow, its arms dangling by the thinnest splinter as a crow glitches in and out of existence.

A frog, frozen mid-leap as its legs reach for nothing.

A bridge, splintered and torn by something massive except all that's left of it are shards of wooden boards.

They're losing him.

"There," Virgil shouts, pointing, "the tower!"

A single tower, the only thing still intact, stretching as high as the clouds, its shadow as long and thin as a needle as it pierces the last of the ground. They race towards it and crash through the door.

"Whoa!"

"I've got you, I've got you."

"Is everyone alright?"

"Don't fall!"

For there are no stairs inside this tower. Only a bottomless pit that stretches into yawning nothingness. Remus blocks the path with his body, Janus's arms around his waist as Logan and Virgil cling to the crumbling walls.

"How the hell do we get up there?"

"We climb."

"You can't be serious."

Remus hoslters the Morningstar star and digs his hands into the brick. He hoists himself up and glances down. "Sooner or later the rest of this is gonna go. You wanna be down here when it does or you wanna be closer to Roman?"

Brick by brick.

Hand over hand.

Inch by inch.

When Remus finally touches smooth wood, feeling around for the latch of the trapdoor, he shoves it open and they pile in, panting from the effort of it as he looks desperately around for Roman.

In the center of the room, surrounded by a wooden shell, is a pile of blankets and pillows. If he strains, he can hear quiet mutters coming from within. Leaving the others on the floor, he stands up and cautiously makes his way over, crouching down and peeling back the very top layer.

"Oh, Ro…"

Roman lies there, curled into a ball, cobwebs and dust caked on his skin. The only parts free from it are his face and one of his hands, his lips moving just enough to let air circulate and blow it away. Tear tracks are evident in the soot, his voice so overtaxed only the faintest sounds still audible.

Just enough to make them out.

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay. It's okay. Shh. Shh. It's alright. Shh."

A lump rises in Remus's throat and he reaches out shakily, pulling the covers away. "Roro, Roro, it's me. It's me, Ro-Bro, I'm here."

Nothing.

"Roman, it's me," he tries desperately, "Ro-Bro, Ro, Roman!"

"Roman?"

"Roman, it's us."

"Open your eyes, little prince, we're here, it's okay."

Roman twitches slightly as Janus speaks but doesn't stir.

"Why isn't it working? What do we have to do?"

Remus shakes him harder. "Roman, wake up!"

"It won't work."

They all turn to stare at Logan.

"What do you mean," Remus hisses, "that it won't work?"

"He needs to be comforted," Logan says, slowly approaching the shell too, "he—he's trying to comfort himself. Let me try."

Virgil glances at Remus and tugs Patton and Janus back. Remus glares at him but doesn't stop him.

"If you fuck this up—"

"Then I'm your lab rat, I know."

"Good."

Logan takes a deep breath and looks in.

Oh, little one, he thinks as he takes in Roman's poor state, oh, I never meant for this, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.

He lifts a shaking hand and fits it clumsily around Roman's.

"Shh," he murmurs, "shh, shh, it's okay. It's alright. It's alright. Shh, shh."

Roman's hand twitches.

"It's okay," he says again, "shh-shh-shh, it's okay. You're alright. It's all okay."

Roman stills, then slumps. Logan fits his other hand to his face, not wincing at how cold it is.

"You're okay," he keeps saying softly, "shh, little one, you're okay. It's alright. It's okay."

The ground rumbles. Color begins to bleed back into the sky. Logan leans down and puts his mouth to Roman's ear.

"I'm sorry, little one," he whispers, "I'm sorry, it's okay. Shh, shh, I'm sorry."

"It's working!"

"Keep going, Logan, it's working."

"Come on, Roman, you can do it."

"Shh, little one, it's okay." He runs his fingers through Roman's hair, shaking loose the dust and debris. "It's all okay now."

Slowly, painfully slowly, he coaxes Roman's Imagination back to life. He brushes away the dust and the cobwebs and murmurs that it's okay, you're alright now, it's going to be alright. Every word that leaves his lips leaves Roman looking a little more like he's just asleep.

He debates with himself for a moment, before leaning up and brushing a kiss across Roman's temple.

"I'm right here."

Something shudders.

"Roman?"

Roman's eyes flutter and slowly open. "L-Logan?"

"Hello, little one," he whispers, "it's okay. I'm here now."

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