#whoops i ripped the page

[elle-p]

P3 Club Book pages 25-26 scan and transcription.

ポロニアンモールのモデルとなった、ビーナスフォートの噴水。較べるとホントそっくり。

モノレール内にある、各種ポスター。あやしい「猫茶」なんて商品から、路線図までさまざま。金閣寺をバックにした「二千十年、そうさ、京都行こ」なんてコピーも秀逸。左上のポスターに描かれた男女は、じつは『P3』企画段階で描かれたメインキャラの第一稿だったりする。

Qポロニアンモールやポートアイランドといった、月高生の溜まり場的場所について教えてください。

順 おう、来たな！あのあたりはオレのホームグラウンドだぜい！

チ そういえば、順平と初めて会ったのもポートアイランド駅だっけ。

順 学校もそうなんだけど、人工島にある場所は全部、「新しくできた都市」ってコンセプトで作られてるらしい。ポートアイランド駅前の柱とか、学校と一緒でギリシャ建築風でまと��られてるだろ？

チ 現美にある場所で、モデルになったところはないの？

順 ポートアイランド駅は、晴海トリトンスクウェア。ポロニアンモールは、お台場にある複合ショッピングモール、ビーナスフォートがモデルになってるんだってさ。噴水がある広場なんて、ビーナスフォートにかなりそっくりらしいぜ。ゲーム中は、ポロニアンモールの天井は見ることができねえけど、きっとビーナスフォートみたいに、青空の騙し絵とか描いてあるに違いないぞ。

チ 違いないって······順平、ポロニアンモールの天井、自分で見たことないの？

順 いやー、いつも店の中の商品とか、ゲーセンのゲームとかばっかりに気ぃ取られちまって······上なんてぜんぜん見たことなかった。

チ はぁ······綺麗だから、今度よく見てみるといいわ。

順 あ、でも下はよく見てるぜ！小銭とか落ちてるかもしれないからなっ。そういや、あそこの床って桐の葉のマークが描いてあんだよな。

チ ゲーム本編でも言ってるけど、ポロニアンってのが “桐の葉” って意味だものね。すべて、桐条グループの出資なんでしょ？そういえば、あそこってどういう企業なの？

順 ポートアイランド駅は、晴海トリトンスクウェア。ポロニアンモールは、お台場にある複合ショッピングモール、ビーナスフォートがモデルになってるんだってさ。 噴水があ る広場なんて、ビーナスフォートにかなりそっくりらしいぜ。ゲーム中は、ボロニアンモールの天井は見ることができねえけど、きっとビーナスフォートみたいに、青空の騙し絵とか描いてあるに違いないぞ。

チ 違いないって······順平、ポロニアンモールの天井、自分で見たことないの？

順 いやー、いつも店の中の商品とか、ゲーセンのゲームとかばっかりに気ぃ取られちまって······上なんてぜんぜん見たことなかった。

チ はぁ······綺麗だから、今度よく見てみるといいわ。

順 あ、でも下はよく見てるぜ！小銭とか落ちてるかもしれないからなっ。そういや、あそこの床って相の葉のマークが描いてあんだよな。

チ ゲーム本編でも言ってるけど、ボロニアンってのが“桐の葉”って意味だものね。すべて、 桐条グループの出資なんでしょ？そういえば、あそこってどういう企業なの？

順 えーと、ちょい待てよ。先輩にちゃんと教えてもらったんだ。現在の相条グループってのは、いわゆるホールディングカンパニーであらゆる分野に進出した大企業だけれど、創業当初は機械部品の製造業を営む小さな会社でし······だった、らしい。え、えっと······あとは······。

チ ······アンチョコ読むなら堂々と読みなさいよ。

順 えへへ、悪いな。で、現在中核となっているのは、機械部品製造部門が発展し、現在では最大の規模とシェアを誇る、桐条エレクトロニクスなんだと。つーことはだ。こういうショッピングモールなんかは、メインの業務のかたわらやってるってことだろ？それでこんだけ大きなモール作っちまうんだから、ホントたいしたもんだよなあ。

チ 裏でろくでもないこともやってたんだけどね。

順 まあ、先輩がグループ代表になれば、そういうのもなくなる。

チ だと、いいけどね······。

Qポートアイランド駅のはずれには、天田の家があったということですが、具体的にどの家がそうなんですか？

順 天田も大変だったよなあ。オレも聞いた話だから詳しくは知らねえんだけど、シャドウが暴れたのと荒垣先輩のペルソナ暴走で、家は全壊しちまってそのまんま。今は駐車場になっちまった���しい。ゲーム中のマップで言うと、画面の下の方。荒垣先輩がいつも座ってる場所の���真正面に当たる駐車場が、その跡地になるらしい。そっか······先輩いつも、あそこ見てたんだ······。うう、やるせないぜえ。

Qポートアイランド駅と、巌戸台駅を結ぶ新都市交通「あねはづる」は、具体的にどういう路線なの？

順 オレらがいつも通学に使ってるモノレールだな？あれは私鉄で、経営母体はまたもや桐条グループ。人工島の辰巳地区ができてからの、新しい路線つーわけだ。

チ この2駅間を往復するだけの路線なの？途中に駅は？

順 巌戸台とポートアイランドの中間にはほかの駅はなし。だけど、その2駅だけを往復する短線以外にも、巌戸台を超えてさらに先まで行く、直通列車もあるぜ。そうだな、陸のほうを東西に走っている路線があねはづる本線で、巌戸台一ポートアイランド間は単なる分ってわけだ。駅の表示をよーく見ると、すんごい小さいけど付近の路線図があるのが分かるんじゃねえかな？

チ もしかしてオープニングムービーで、順平のところの本物リーダーが乗ってた電車って······。

順 そうだな、あれがあねはづるの本線ってことになるよな。つか、わざわざ「本物」って言うなつーの。

Q巌戸台近辺は、ポートアイランド側とくらべて雰囲気がずいぶん落ち着いてますが、実在のモデルは？

順 確かに落ち着いてて馴染みやすい街だもんな。これは、かなり本物と似てるんだぜ～。

チ やっぱりモデルがあるの？

順 駅前側は、ゆりかもめの新橋駅前がモデル。美術スタッフの取材の成果がバッチリって感じだぜ。で、商店街側のモデルは、JR新橋駅前のとあるビルなどを参考にしたらしい。詳しいビル名は内緒だけど、戸台と同じようにたくさん店が入ったビルがあって、そこにある「つばめグリル」って店は、キャラクターデザインの副島さんオススメの店だと。くぅ～、食ってみてえ！

チ 巌戸台といえば、駅前でいつも工事をやってるわよね？あれはいつになったら完成するの？

順 あー、あそこはな、多分しばらくは完成しないんじゃねえかなあ。

チ 工事が中断してるの？

順 駅前再開発で、また色々な店ができるはずだったんだけどさ、地面掘り返してたら埋蔵金が出てきちまったらしいんだ。遺跡とか埋まってたら工事できないから現在調査中。

順 ああ······オレのまだ見ぬトンカツよ、ハンバーグよ、カレーライスよ！早く出ておいで~。

チ って、期待してると、ブティックとかアクセサリー屋とかしかできなかったりするのよね。

順 うおっ、ありうる······。

Q巌戸台には、あずきちゃんや、ワイルダック、あと名前がわからない謎のヒーローなど色々なマスコットがいますが、��細が知りたいです。

順 おお、通好みの質問だな？つか、細かいところまで見てるな~。

チ あずきちゃんには、企画段階ではテーマソングがあったって聞いたんだけど、本当？

順 ホントなんだよこれが。つかテーマソングつーより······呪文？調べると延々と、「あーずきしゃきしゃき、あーずきしょかしょか」って歌い続けるという······。

チ 都市伝説みたいね······。

順 まあ、ボツってありがたいような聞いてみたかったような。

チ ワイルダックはわりと目立ってるし、まあマスコットキャラ以上の隠し設定はなさそうだけど、その構にいるビニール人形は？

順 あれこそが、ワイルダックバー ガーから生まれた次世代ヒーロー！その名も、ワイルドヒーロー！世界を股にかける彼の活躍が銀幕で見られる、映画『ワイルドヒーローネバーダイ』近日公開予定！

チ ······今、作って言ってるんじゃないでしょうね？

順 んなことねえって！ほら、モノレールの中に貼ってあるポスタ一見てみろよ。

チ あ、映画のポスター······本物？

順 そーいうこと。

チ 凝っているというか、スタッフの人も暇と言うか。

順 それは言わねえでくれ······。

Q巌戸台商店街の左隣にある空き地は、不動産屋の看板が調べられますが、ここは何か意味があるの？

順 おっと、これは際どい質問が来やがったなー？

チ ん？何際どいの？

順 じつはこの看板、とあるボツになったイベントに関わってるものなのだよ、チドリくん。

チ ボツイベント？

順 企画の初期段階でな、ボロニアンモールに宝くじ売り場を置くって案があって、最高で3億当たる予定だったんだと。ただ、いくら大金もらっても、使い道がないとユーザーも面白くないだろ？だから、もし1等を当てたら、あの看板の不動産屋で土地と家が買える、ってイベントがあったわけよ。残して欲しかったよなあ······寮より自由な、門限も何もない自由な生活！

チ 主人公君にしか当たらないんだから関係ないでしょ？

順 くそっ、女は夢がねえぜ。

Q聞くのも恥ずかしいですが、白河町のラブホテルはモデルがあるのですか？もしかして······スタッフの方は取材に行ったりしたんですか？

順 おお、オレと同じ魂の輝きを持つ人からの質問だぜっ！

チ ······さいてー。

順 い、いや、これはあくまで男のロマン······。

チ ······さいてー。

順 しくしくしくしくしく。

真田明彦 (以下「真」) という訳で、邪な心に流されないこの俺が、ここから順平に替わって説明しよう。

チ ······どこから湧いたのこの人？

桐条美鶴 (以下「美」) 明彦、 様はもう���しぐらい、煩悩を増やしたほうがいいと思うのだが。朴念仁も過ぎると害だぞ？

チ もしかしてあなたたち、ずっと出番待ってた、とか？

真 さて、さっそく質問に回答していこうじゃないか！

チ ······図星。

美 で、白河町のモデルは何だ？

真 まあ待て、美鶴。ここは、ちょっと他の場所とは違って、じつに粋な形でモデルを選んでるんだ。まず白河通りという地名の由来は、飛騨高山にある白川郷なんだ。

美 白川郷というと、世界遺産の合掌造りの民家で有名な？ラブホテル街とまったく関係ないじゃないか。

真 ところが、関係あるんだよ。白川郷近郊では、昭和初期に連続したダム建設の影響で、水没する村が続出することとなった。だが、そこで白川郷を追われた村人たちは、ど こへ行ったと思う？彼らは、東京の渋谷へと住処を移し、新たな生活を始めたんだ。さらに詳しく言うと、移住先は渋谷の、円山町だ。

美 円山町というと、確か東京でも有名なラブホテル街のひとつ······なるほど、エクセレントだ明彦！

真 そう、白河通りのモデルは渋谷の円山町、そして地名の由来は現在の円山町を支える人々のルーツ白川郷。そんな、奥の深い理由で白河 通りのラブホテル街はできている んだ。ちなみに、直接取材には行かず、インターネットのサイトをあちこち見て、内装とかは作ったそうだ。

チ 変なテンション······。大丈夫かな······この人たち······。

順 感動したっ！！

チ わ、順平っ？

順 感動したっすよ、真田先輩っ！

真 そうか、わかるか順平！

順 この感動を分かち合うため、今また先輩取り巻きの女の子連れて、白河通りに行きましょうっ！！

真 ああ、いいとも順平！

美 ······ブフダイン。

チ ······ガルーラジェム。

美 敵は総崩れだ！一掃する！

チ 分かりやすすぎだよ、順平。(ボカスカボカスカボカスカ······)

真・順 ご、ごめんなさい······。

美・チ 分かれば、よろしい。

よく見ると、ちゃんと「3億円」と売値 が書かれている。

影時間にしか行けないラブホテル。コミュイベントなどで、行く日を夢見た人も多いかも？

[teenwolf-incorrectquotes]

FBI Agent: Stilinski, the suspect is all yours. Stiles: Hey, Gerard! Derek said when I caught you I should read you this letter. Stiles: "I wanna lick the skin off your body, baby"--- whoops, that side's for me. Stiles: [flips the page around] Here we go. "I wanna rip the skin off your body, Argent."

[beansprean]

Oh, y'all thought the fight had started already?

My Familiar’s Ghost part 51

Masterpost

New pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Close up of bat Nandor from Guillermo’s POV, crushed into a wall and held there by Guillermo’s hand. One of Guillermo’s claws has pierced the membrane of his wing and Nandor is clutching at his fingers in terror, staring up with wide, panicked eyes. 1b. Reverse shot of vampire Guillermo from Nandor’s POV, holding him down with his left hand as his right rears back, claws bared in preparation to strike. He is grinning maliciously, relishing in a new kill. 1c. Wide shot from the side as there is a sudden screech of tires and crash of metal. Guillermo and Nandor freeze in place and whip their heads toward the viewer and the front windows of the Panera.

2a. Wide shot from outside, on a roadway running up a hill and parallel to the Panera. A blue hatchback car with a license plate that says ‘whoops’ and a bumper sticker that says ‘how’s my driving? 1-800-KISS-IT’ has crashed into a pole with a yellow traffic light and is smoking, front end crumpled and passenger window shattered. The pole is slowly falling sideways, towards the Panera parking lot below. 2b. Close up as the traffic light, yellow light still lit, smashes into the asphalt, cracking the green lens and ripping the blinders off the red lens. 2c. Repeat. The traffic light settles on its side, mostly intact, and flips to red. Unfocused without the blinders, red light pours freely across the ground. Nearly invisible red text behind reads “stop stop stop stop”. 2d. Repeat of 2c, Guillermo and Nandor still frozen in place but now bathed in red light. Guillermo is narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the scene outside and Nandor nervously flicks his eyes over to him, assessing.

3a. The entire Panera is now flooded in red. Shot from behind the pillar Nandor is pinned to as his leg, now human shaped again, kicks forcefully upward, sending Guillermo flying backward into the opposite wall, demolishing the sheetrock and destroying a wooden chair in the process. Debris flies everywhere. 3b. Waist up of Nandor, back in human form, as he stands himself up, his inner arm bleeding. He snarls angrily and points an accusing finger at Guillermo, saying ‘You want to fight? Fine! The truth is, I have been upset with you, too!’ 3c. Reverse shot of Guillermo struggling out of the ass-sized hole he made in the wall, fangs bared and deadly gaze focused on Nandor. Nandor continues from offscreen: ‘You get so angry when I don’t know things about you but then you don’t tell me anything!’ 3d. Close up on Guillermo’s hand closing around a broken wooden chair leg. 3e. Close up on Nandor’s hand closing around a wooden chair leg as he accuses, ‘You keep secrets!’

4a. Full body of Guillermo lifting himself from a crouch in the debris left by the wall, a long stake with a shattered pointy end clutched in his left hand. His eyes, like a predator, never leave Nandor. Nandor keeps talking: ‘You assume to know what I am thinking and how I will react to things and what I will say - well you don’t.’ 4b. Knees up of Nandor as he steps away from the crushed pillar to a more strategic place against the light, holding his own long stake point-up like a readied sword in front of him. He stares seriously at Guillermo and says, ‘You hear, but you never listen, Guillermo.’ 4c. Extreme close up on Nandor’s glaring eyes trailing a slash of red light as he makes a quick turn, shouting, ‘Well you will listen to me now!’ 4d. Full body wide shot on an orange and yellow starburst background as Guillermo, both hands on his makeshift sword, takes a backswing at Nandor. Nandor’s sword meets him in the middle as he swings it down single-handed in perfect form. Their eyes never leave the other’s; they’re both in the fight now. /end ID

[caption]

Bonus ID: shot through the shattered front windshield of the crashed car to show Laszlo in the passenger seat and Colin behind the wheel, both covered in broken glass and peeking out from behind inflated airbags. Colin asks, glasses askew on his face and grinning in his usual unflappable way, ‘How was that, Lazzo?’ Laszlo smiles patiently over at Colin and asks, ‘Marvelous work, my boy! Now, what possessed you to aim for this particular traffic signal?’ Colin replies, ‘I dunno, just had a feeling. Can we go for that Escalade next? I really want to see how sensitive that pedestrian detection feature is.’ The engine continues to smoke, and there are a few wisps of familiar blue light trailing away. /end ID

[suzukiblu]

Been looking through your assorted aus page and the link for "weird amnesia Timberkon"/"for the game young" is broken (as in, the tag does not appear to exist). It seems like you put a lot of time into that page so I figured you'd want to know (and also selfishly I am very interested in finding out what weird amnesia timberkon entails)

WHOOPS, my bad, messed that one up. Should be all fixed on the page now, though! Oddly I only seem to have one teeny lil' snippet up for that AU, to my surprise, could've sworn I'd posted more? Sooooo as thanks for catching that busted link for me, have a nice big chunk of the WIP behind this read-more, hah.

So Superboy is apparently an idiot. Then again, whatever, if Bernard were an indestructible telekinetic half-alien he would probably also not worry too much about looking subtle in his civvies or maintaining a secret identity, and also it's been a while since he's heard anything about the guy doing any active superheroing anyway so maybe Superboy is just assuming that the entire planet somehow forgot about his teen heartthrob superhero posters and all those close-up high-def publicity shots of his very public face and whatever? Oh, and also that one time that he literally fucking died to save the whole freaking world and the big ol' memorial statue. Statues? There might've been two, come to think. 

So maybe an idiot. 

A very hot idiot, though. 

Well, whatever, Bernard figures, taking a sip of his boba tea and idly watching Superboy check out his boyfriend from the far side of the cafe like he's a sad puppy in a shop window who just wants a little love. Tim is looking at his phone and appears oblivious to Superboy's existence. 

Bernard assumes Tim's doing that thing where he pretends to not be Robin, for obvious reasons. That thing remains adorable but is getting increasingly less convincing as time goes on. Like, he really doesn't know what Tim actually thinks he thinks he does in his downtime? There is no logical reason for a civilian to be either as ripped or as scarred as Tim Drake is, but part of being Tim Drake's boyfriend is pretending to be oblivious to those facts and also never questioning his flimsy excuses to run off at a moment's notice or disappear during a crisis or whatever else. 

Bernard tries to figure out how to politely extricate himself from the situation for long enough for Tim to go check up on Superboy, because Superboy very clearly needs to be checked up on. Unfortunately he went to the bathroom like ten minutes before the guy walked in all sad-puppy so the obvious option is out, and Tim knows damn well he isn't gonna call his parents for anything less than a full-on emergency, and his friends it'd be weird not to just text, and . . . fuck, he doesn't know. He needs an angle here. 

"I'll be right back, babe, just gotta duck into the bathroom real quick," Tim says, glancing up from his phone with an apologetic smile. Bernard relaxes slightly. Okay, that works, thank you, Bat-planning. Superboy can just follow Tim back to the bathroom and they can do whatever superhero sidebar they need to do back there. 

But then Tim gets up, gives him a peck on the cheek, and heads back to the bathroom, and Superboy . . . doesn't follow him. 

The hell? 

Bernard represses a frown and takes another sip of his boba. Superboy continues not to follow Tim. He just sits there at his own little table with his completely untouched drink, looking like the saddest puppy that has ever sadded. 

Bernard is mystified. 

Are they having a fight, maybe? Is Tim ignoring Superboy because of that, not the secret ID stuff? That seems weird and not very Tim-like, fighting or not. But Superboy's in Gotham and came into the cafe after they did, so he can't be the one avoiding Tim. But also he didn't follow him to the bathroom when presented with the very unsubtle opportunity to do so, so . . . what the hell? 

Weird. 

Bernard takes yet another sip of boba and keeps watching Superboy. Superboy seems oblivious to said watching, but he guesses the guy is pretty famous and is a very public superhero and is always doing impressive shit and all that, so he's probably used to being watched. Oh, and also he's stupid, stupid hot. 

Bernard cannot imagine being this used to attention, but apparently Superboy is. Bernard, of course, is not a punk idol superhero built like a porn star and a supermodel had a threeway with a bodybuilder. So like, that particular bit of mental dissonance probably makes sense and all. Life experiences are not universal, and all that. 

Especially not when the life experience one is comparing oneself to started in a cloning tube. 

Well, it's not like it's a burden for Bernard to have a free pass on checking out a hottie while he waits for Tim to come back from, presumably, waiting for Superboy to come and talk to him. Which Superboy is just . . . not doing, still. Inexplicably. 

Still, sad puppy or not, Superboy's civvies look damn good on him, so that's something. Bernard's enjoying them, like as an aesthetic experience and everything. Superboy's wearing an unbuttoned red flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves over a very tight black tank top and even tighter light wash skinny jeans that are bafflingly intact, considering the fact that a dude with Kryptonian-level super-strength is currently vacuum-sealed into them. 

Does tactile telekinesis work on skinny jeans? Is that a thing? Like, are Superboy's jeans currently indestructible? 

That sounds amazing, actually. 

Also, those buckled-up black leather boots he's wearing look like they could straight-up kill a dude, Kryptonian power-assist or not. And the shiny mirrored sunglasses and ridiculous multitude of even shinier gold piercings all suit the guy, somehow, and even without looking like too much. 

Relatedly, Superboy's tank top is very, very tight. 

Also relatedly, his nipples are apparently pierced. 

And so is his belly button, it looks like. 

Ngh. 

Superboy's vacuum-sealed jeans are not quite tight enough for Bernard to figure out if he's got any below the spike-studded belt piercings, but his imagination is happy to fill in the blanks there. He's tempted to ask for Tim's theories on the existence of any such piercings, because yeah Superboy has super-hearing but Bernard has no shame and Tim logically should know, buuuuut he's still pretending not to know Tim is Robin so yeah, probably he shouldn't do that. 

He could start a new conspiracy board for it, maybe. That'd be fun. 

Superboy also has leather cuffs on his wrists and mismatched rings and necklaces and a really hot fade haircut that is noticeably windswept, and really, really looks like something that Bernard would like to see somebody dig their fingers into. Just–look, there's curls. Bernard cannot be blamed for curls. 

And he's trying not to eye the cuff bracelets too much, but they provide very nice inspiration for a certain style of kinky thoughts. Not that Superboy couldn't snap basically any set of cuffs that wasn't made of kryptonite or promethium or like a magical kryptonite-promethium alloy or whatever without even trying, obviously, but like, somehow the thought of the guy having to restrain himself more than anything else makes the whole mental image hotter? Like, somehow? 

Bernard pictures Superboy wearing a pair of cheap flimsy sex toy handcuffs and trying very, very hard to keep himself in them while someone else takes very careful inventory of all his piercings, wherever and whatever they all just so happen to be. 

Jesus. Yeah, there's a thought. 

Is it weird to consider flirting up your boyfriend's superhero bestie while he's badly pretending to be a civilian, Bernard wonders? Is that a thing? 

Probably, but he still has no shame and is also in an open relationship, so whatever. 

Hell, who knows, in retrospect maybe Tim actually arranged this setup specifically for Bernard to get an eyeful of his work crush. Like, Bernard always felt like Robin and Superboy had some significant UST going back in the day. Maybe Tim wants to finally do something about that, and the setup idea sounds like a very "Bat" approach to doing said something. And it'd explain why Superboy didn't follow Tim to the bathroom and maybe even why he's coming across kind of anxious right now, if he's trying to psych himself up to come over or something. Like, if he's nervous about making a good impression, though Bernard cannot imagine why he ever would be. Well, not like Supers are known for their undercover skills, so . . . 

Either way, if that's the plan, Bernard is very fine with it, so he decides to go find out for himself and picks up his drink to head over and chat the guy up. Worst case scenario, he’s just gotten his hopes up a little, he figures. Best case, he’s putting Superboy out of his “oh god, how do I do undercover” misery. 

"Mind if I sit?" he asks, and flashes Superboy a grin as he gestures at the empty seat at the other half of his table. Superboy looks weirdly startled, like he somehow expected to go unnoticed despite being a literal superhero who is also unspeakably hot and is also wearing very, very tight clothes that he's this close to busting out of. Like, at least half a dozen girls are actively checking him out right now, as is the dude behind the counter and the old guy on the sidewalk outside who’s busy badly pretending to be reading the outdoor menu board instead of checking out Superboy’s ass through the front window. 

So yeah, Bernard really does not understand that apparent assumption. 

Come to think, maybe Superboy has some self-esteem issues or something. Bernard admittedly might also have self-esteem issues if he were Superman's clone. Then again, if he were Superman's clone, he would look like Superman and also be very aware of how Superman himself looks, sooooo . . . 

Seriously, "younger and sexier punk rock Superman" is not a vibe that Bernard can imagine going ignored all that often. Or ever. 

“Uh–what?” Superboy says. 

“I’ve been temporarily abandoned by my boyfriend and I’m easily bored,” Bernard clarifies politely, though obviously Superboy was staring at Tim long enough to have noticed said abandonment the moment it happened. “So, mind if I sit?” 

“I–sure?” Superboy says, looking nervous. Bernard puts another tally in the “too bad at undercover work to follow the Bat-plan” column. Whatever, the guy’s trying his best, he’s not gonna judge him. 

There's a pin on the inside of Superboy’s flannel, Bernard notices as the other shifts awkwardly in his seat, and is vaguely puzzled by the sight of it. Like, it's just a little thing and he doubts he'd have even seen it if he weren't in this close to the guy, but . . . 

Just–yeah. Little pin. Just like a cheap little round button, like the kind that comes out of the dollar bin at all sorts of random stores. And it's hidden inside Superboy's flannel, mostly, but it's definitely got the S-shield on it. 

Bernard is perplexed. Even in Gotham, it's not like it's weird to see people wearing Superman merch. So like, why is Superboy hiding that?

“Cool,” he says as he files that away as a little oddity, and takes the empty seat. Superboy continues to look nervous. Bernard continues to work on figuring out if his weird Bat-boyfriend who he’s not supposed to know is a Bat set him up on a blind date with his superhero bestie. The nervousness supports the theory, anyway. 

Man, this dude really is even prettier up close. How was he Tim’s bisexual awakening with this guy around and in close quarters with him? Like, he’s flattered, don’t get him wrong, but also maybe Tim has some vision problems and he should get that checked out before it inconveniences his nightlife. 

"Sooooo like . . . what do I call you?" Bernard asks, peering across the table at him curiously. "Because the obvious option seems like a bad idea, obviously.” 

"‘The obvious option’?" Superboy stops looking nervous long enough to look confused instead. 

"Yeah?" Bernard says, cocking his head. Superboy cannot possibly think he’s being subtle here, so . . . "I mean, I assume you don't go by 'Superboy' when you're dressed like that. Like, that's the whole point of being dressed like that, right?" 

Superboy stares blankly at him. Bernard cocks his head the other way, now officially the confused one. 

"What?" Superboy says. 

"Okay, sorry, this is the thing where you-know-who still insists on pretending he's not Robin, isn't it," Bernard realizes, which he really should've realized would be a thing from the start. He supposes that makes sense even with Superboy’s total lack of subtlety, though, superheroes probably do have to really commit to that thing. Especially ones who work for Batman and Superman. Or . . . just around Superman, maybe? Bernard is not fully clear on that particular superhero hierarchy. "My bad. So, uh, what do I call you, because there is obviously no obvious option. Obviously.” 

"You . . . recognize me?" Superboy croaks. 

"Uh," Bernard says, brow furrowing in bemusement at the very weird expression the guy's currently wearing. "Yes? No offense, you're kind of recognizable. Like, do you even have a secret identity? I mean, you're a clone, right, and I know you were just doing the full-time hero thing in at least Hawaii, so I actually have no idea if you ever bothered making one up or not?” 

"You recognize me," Superboy chokes, just staring at him, and then bursts into tears. 

. . . well, that can't be good.

[11vein]

heyho! how did you learn how to draw and make art in general? i find your artstyle visually pleasing and nice to look at, i wish to one day be able to draw like you but i don't know where to begin 😞 also what are your art inspirations?

i know this is a cliche answer but i self-taught myself and improved quickly in my early years simply by attaching to a character i really liked and drawing them nonstop especially during my school days (and that character eventually morphed into my oc kaizer) because my ADHD ass didn't want to do anything with school loL genuinely though this is one of the best ways to learn is just to get really obsessed with something and draw it and branch out from there after you've had your fill dont be like me completely though when it comes to studying with art, you should absolutely do fundamental studies too (still life/etc) . i was stubborn and didnt really do it because i dont find a lot of joy in it but i think its kinda stunted my abilities that i never did in recent years though i went from drawing characters just standing/busts in an empty space to realizing i love drawing actual scenes with characters interacting with their environments and it has forced me to learn ways to streamline my art process and learn to do backgrounds. its been fun but now ive gotten way too ambitious and perfectionistic about one-uping myself and burnt myself out so im currently working on re-finding my passion and ways to work around that perfectionism. so thats kinda where i am rn...?

anyway, its really a matter of finding an obsession and honing in on it like i said . so do that but dont get so obsessed you ignore important stuff like i have done haHA

sidenote. don't fuck up your wrist listen to artists when they say you should not overexert it and do stretches because im fucked with carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists already at age 23 whoops. also references. dont be afraid to use those theyre so important it took me so many years to not be stubborn about them and that also stunted me anyway when it comes to my art inspirations/??? a lot of it is just aesthetics of various media ive absorbed into my brain and jumbled around, but when it comes to actual individual artists here are some im heavily inspired by on the visual art side (warning for nsfw/suggestive works on some of these artists pages)

nuqelear (rip)

sidu

urano000

cata_dioptric

vellmori (inactive)

populamalus

bakui (is this their name?)

avrilundi/_96peori theres absolutely so many more but these are like. some of my primary ones i can recall lately

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 16

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 |-| Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19

AO3

Warnings: Some angst but mostly WE'RE SO BACK

Word Count: 4.7k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @ginabaker1666

The ATS depot was quiet once more, crickets chirping in the long grass beside the road as Frankie worked away, squinting up at the underside of the jeep she was lying underneath, a pair of pliers clutched in one filthy hand. In the two weeks since The Riveters had gone down, she hadn't touched a plane, let alone stepped foot inside one. Her father had told her to do what she could. But she couldn't go anywhere near a bomber without thinking of what might have happened to Rosie - how scared he might have felt. The feeling made her want to vomit.

"I just think, y'know, that she needs to butt out and mind her business," Ken shrugged, sitting cross-legged on the tarmac beside the car as he picked at his sandwich, ready and waiting by the toolbox for her to have need of him.

"Oh, one hundred per cent. I mean, Helen didn't invite her, I know Gwen didn't - wrench," Frankie interrupted her own gossiping, holding out her hand as Ken pressed the tool into her palm. "No, not that one, the 5 - thanks. But yeah, fucking out of order. It's like Charlotte's wedding all over again."

"... Frankie you didn't go to that."

"I know. But I hang around the ATS now, I'm learning a lotta shit."

Ken opened his mouth to speak again, but his jaw snapped shut at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps, turning to stare as George jogged towards them. There was a letter clutched in her hand, sweat beading on her brow as she approached.

He hadn't seen her running like that since...

"Frankie," He uttered urgently, slamming her toolbox shut.

"One sec," Her muffled voice came from beneath the car.

"No - now."

She felt his fist wrap around her ankle, tugging roughly until she finally relented, sliding out from her spot as she wiped a hand across her forehead. "God's sake, what-" Then she saw it too. "...George?"

"Frankie!" George cried, hurrying towards them as the pair scrambled to their feet, brows drawn in identical stares of confusion. When she'd first spotted her, Frankie had felt a jolt of fear shoot through her, panic rising in her chest. But the closer she came... she was smiling.

A huffed groan escaped Frankie as George collided with her, slamming her body against hers as she threw an arm around her shoulders, the other hand pressing the crumpled letter into her chest. Wide-eyed, she glanced back at Ken, who could offer nothing more than a shrug as George pulled away, still beaming.

"George, wh-" Frankie trailed off, pausing to unfurl the letter. But before she could even make out its first line, George was blurting the words.

"He's alive."

The air was unceremoniously punched from her lungs, ripped away so suddenly that she could do nothing more than croak.

"Frankie. Rosie's alive."

She looked down at the page, but found that her vision was suddenly blurred with tears, the letters merging into an indiscernible smudge. Ken was laughing, his laughter turning to whooping as he enveloped George in an embrace, the two spinning slightly on their heels as they wore matching grins, consumed by the euphoria of knowing it wasn't over. Frankie still couldn't quite breathe, pins and needles pricking at her fingertips once again as her heart pumped out of her chest. Everything was moving so fast - so uncontrollably, wonderfully fast that she wasn't sure how much longer she could go without losing consciousness.

"He's... He's alive?" She asked, barely more than a whisper.

"Yeah," George smiled, nodding as she raised her hands to cup Frankie's face, keeping their gazes locked. "He landed behind the Russian line - I dunno where he is right now, but he's coming home, Frank."

Finally, Frankie let herself smile, something between a sob and a laugh tearing its way out of her.

"He's alive," She breathed, collapsing against George in another embrace as she began to weep, smiling even as tears streamed down her cheeks, clutching at her friend so tightly it was as if she were keeping her from shattering, holding every piece of her together at once.

He wasn't gone. That future of hers, which she'd come to take for granted, wasn't gone. She'd been making do - powering through even when she didn't want to, accepting that nothing would ever get as good as it had been. But now it was. Now he was coming back, and it didn't matter if it took a day or a year, because she was going to see him again.

She was going to see him again, and she was gonna marry the hell outta him.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie stood in front of the bathroom mirror, tucking and re-tucking her hair behind her ears over and over again, muttering curses under her breath because why the fuck did it always look wrong? Why couldn't she get it to fall the way it usually did - and why did she care? Frankie Bevan had never once been concerned with appearance or vanity, but suddenly this was the most important thing in the world to her, and the more she untucked and re-tucked her hair, the more she wanted to burst into tears.

"Frank," George spoke softly from where she had been hovering in the doorway, watching silently for the last few minutes.

"It doesn't look right," She complained, frowning back at her tired reflection. "Why doesn't it look right? It never looks like this."

"It... looks like it always does."

Frankie gnawed at her lip slightly as she blinked away the tears, embarrassed that they were even forming. "He'll notice the difference."

"Frank," She scolded. "He will not give a single shit. I promise you, there is literally nothing Rosie cares about less right now than what your fucking hair looks like."

She'd refused to go out to meet him - refused to reunite in front of dozens of crewmen, all aching to congratulate him on his return. She wouldn't deprive the men of that moment, but there was nothing she wanted less than to insert herself into it. She needed to do this part alone.

The gravel crunched beneath her feet as she walked towards the infirmary, each step feeling like she was treading water, seaweed tangled around her ankles and tugging her downwards. For a regular afternoon in March, this sure was the hardest and bravest thing she'd ever done. But why? Why was she terrified to step inside, to see her Rosie?

Because what if he wasn't her Rosie?

What if whatever had happened to him in the month he'd been gone had changed something, flicked some switch inside him that she couldn't turn off?

And - least rational, but most terrifying of all - what if he didn't need her anymore?

It was as if the air had been sucked from the room the moment she stepped foot in the infirmary, freezing in the doorway as she spotted him, sitting on the edge of his bed, back turned to her. The doctor seemed to gesture towards her before swiftly making his exit, and as Rosie turned to her, indescribable relief washed over his expression, the tears welling in his eyes visible even from this distance. He leapt off of the bed without hesitation, choking on his words as he hurried towards her. "Frankie-"

It had been keeping her up at night - the realisation that she had no idea what she'd say to him in this moment. But in the end, it hadn't mattered, for the second he uttered that first word to her, she had burst into tears, falling against him as his arms were held out to her.

"I thought you were dead," She sobbed, heaving in a breath so forceful it rubbed her throat raw.

"I know, baby, I'm so sorry," Rosie uttered against her ear, and from the way his voice tremored, shoulders shaking, she knew he was crying too.

Frankie pulled away, although every muscle in her body was screaming at her to never let go, and she gave herself a moment to really take him in, brushing the curls away from his face as she began to smile, every line and dimple in his skin precisely where she'd left them. Unwrapping her arms from around his body, she lifted her hands to his cheeks, wiping with the soft pad of her thumb at the tears that had begun to fall. "... You're ok?"

"I'm okay," He nodded hurriedly, wrapping his hands around her wrists as he rubbed gently at the skin, simply holding her in place, desperate to feel her against him again. "... I told 'em all about you."

Her head tilted to the side slightly in question. "Who?"

Rosie chuckled. "Anyone who'd listen." A grin broke its way across her face, and she leaned in to press her lips against his, tasting the salt of tears on her tongue as she did - though whose they were she couldn't tell. His hand was in her hair, the other on her back, melting against her as if they could merge into one, blurring into each other until there was nothing left of the individual self. It was as if his palms had welded to her skin, so resistant were they to ever break apart, foreheads pressed together once they finally came up for air.

"I'll tell you everything," He breathed. "One day."

Whatever had happened, he was haunted by it. She could feel it in the way his fingers trembled against her, the way his eyelids fluttered, shielding his gaze from having to meet hers when he spoke of it. But then their gazes locked, his breath fanning her face, and a gentle smile curled Frankie's lip, her thumb skirting across his cheek.

"Tell me when you're ready. I just need you here."

He smiled in a shaky mirror of her own, pressing another kiss to her lips, which she accepted with a hum, beaming up at him as it came to an end. Despite the exhaustion tugging at his features, Rosie managed a smirk.

"Y'know, I seem to remember you making me a promise last time I saw you."

Frankie let out a low chuckle, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You sure? I'm not sure I remember, sorry."

He grinned, cupping her jaw in his palms. "Think you need a reminder?"

"Might be an idea," She nodded. Their heads tilted towards one another, their noses brushing slightly.

"Well, in that case... Frankie Bevan, will you marry me?"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

They wasted so little time that it was a miracle the wedding came together at all, a hurriedly thrown together affair in the slightly shabby village hall, as it was the only venue they could find close by that wasn't a church. George had leapt into action as if it were her life's very purpose, exiling Blakely on a one-man mission to bring Frankie's father whilst she set to work decorating and haggling to secure as much food as possible. Frankie had never been one for these sorts of things - she wasn't an organiser or a decorator - she had no sense for aesthetics nor taste for formalities. But what she could do was watch George take the reigns, sinking in her element, and accompany her with an open mind and excited smile as everything fell into place.

"Aha!" Frankie declared, holding up a hand in victory as she retrieved the only dress in her possession from the bottom of one of her suitcases. A navy blue tea dress, she'd almost lost count of how many times she'd tried to get rid of it, only for George to intervene, warning her that someday it might come of use. As always, she had been right.

"This works, right?"

"This works," George nodded in confirmation. "As long as you iron out the creases - that's your job while I go make sure Croz has got the rings I sent him for."

Frankie chuckled, splaying the dress flat across her bed. "This delegation stuff seems to be going well, then."

"Well, that's what happens when you ask for a wedding in four fucking days, Frank," George grinned somewhat sarcastically, already on her way out as she spoke, a clipboard with a checklist firmly planted beneath her arm. It was a wonder she had managed to organise anything at all with all the work they still had to do - although Blakely would later inform her that George hadn't done much of her job at all in those four days, spending most of her office hours wrangling anyone willing to help and dishing out tasks. If anything, she could be sure that George's own wedding would be a sight to behold.

When the day itself arrived, Frankie found that she couldn't have cared less what she was wearing or how she looked, scarcely sparing a glance at the mirror as she paced the room, bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement. Her father, George and Alice crowded the room, chattering amongst themselves and practically ignoring Frankie as she wandered around, grinning giddily - she suspected they hoped she'd tire herself out, as if she were an overactive toddler who'd had too much sugar.

"Where's Jill?" She asked, suddenly pausing in her strides as she noticed an empty chair, the little girl nowhere to be seen.

"With Rosie," Alice shrugged. "She wanted to be a groomsman instead."

Frankie and George let out matching snorts, exchanging a smile. Of course - it shouldn't have surprised her. Since the day she'd first brought Rosie into the house, Jill was gone, utterly uninterested in anyone else. It was charming really, quite how quickly he managed to endear himself - to get under people's skin and stay there, comfortably familiar.

"Traitor," Frankie teased, attempting to balance on the heel of one shoe. A sudden, sharp knock at the door made them all start, Frankie almost falling over as she wobbled for balance, watching George hurry to answer it.

"Hi!" Ken whispered, prying his face through the tiny gap in the doorway as far as he could. "You look pretty!" He declared, shooting Frankie a thumbs-up.

"D'you need something?" George asked.

He paused momentarily, as if uncertain. "Oh, yeah. We're ready for you in there."

Frankie grinned so hard her teeth were beginning to hurt, reaching out to help her father to his feet. He accepted her hand with a smile, patting her arm affectionately as he hauled himself up with a grunt. "You ready?" He asked.

"God yeah," She scoffed, feeling him squeeze her shoulder. She could see it in his eyes that every step was its own private torture. That goddamn leg had never fit him properly, not since the day he'd come back from the Somme and they'd first strapped it onto him in some shabby hospital. He'd always told her that it had felt fine at the time, but she'd never quite believed him - especially not when she discovered the attending nurse had been her own mother. Frankie suspected a certain amount of bravado had been involved in the decision.

"You sure you've got this?" She asked quietly as they shuffled out, voice hushed to ensure no one overheard.

"Love. I'm not missing this for anything," He beamed, and Frankie nodded, knocking her head gently against his shoulder as they reached the end of the corridor, opening out into the main hall.

All eyes were on her the second she entered the room, but all she saw was Rosie - waiting in his dress uniform, hands folded at his front, smiling so wide she thought he might pass out, tears welling in his eyes visible even from the other end of the hall. Frankie raised a hand, offering a wave before she could think better of it, and from the way his grin parted she could tell he was laughing, even if she couldn't hear it from here. She found her gaze wandering towards her father, tracking his feet as they walked until he pinched at her arm, a silent reminder not to worry about him. She could have moved a million miles away, but she'd never stop worrying about him, never stop looking to him like he'd hung the stars in the sky.

She wished Bucky were here.

As they reached the front of the room, her father squeezed her hand, departing with a smile and a nod and an affectionate pat on Rosie's shoulder, taking his seat without a word.

"Hi," Frankie smiled, voice scarcely even a whisper.

Rosie chuckled, his face flushed scarlet. "Hello."

She swore she must have zoned out for most of the ceremony, too distracted by the excited thumping of her own heart, for when Rosie began to speak it was as if she'd been jolted awake from a deep sleep, blinking in a rapid burst. He held both of her hands in his, squeezing her palms as she met his gaze, lips twisting slightly as if trying to restrain himself from grinning.

"Honey-"

"One sec," Frankie interjected before he could speak his vows, the room falling to awkward silence. For a split second, he looked terrified, and she wanted to scream at how poorly she'd handled the interruption. "... Could we do this bit on our own?"

His lips parted in a smile, beaming down at her as he nodded. "Yeah. Yeah - George?"

George was on it before they even had to ask, suppressing a grin as she rose to her feet, herding the other guests out into the hallway until only the pair of them remained. As Jill passed, she frowned at Frankie with such outrage one might have guessed she'd witnessed some sort of heinous crime, but she exited without protest nonetheless. Left alone in the village hall, the room became an echo chamber, the sound bouncing off every wall as Frankie let out a snort.

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe I did that."

Rosie shrugged. "I think it's a nice touch."

"Ok - go, go," She nodded hurriedly, squeezing his hands in return as she bounced on the balls of her feet slightly in a way that made him chuckle.

He opened his mouth, taking a deep breath. Then he stopped.

"Can I be honest with you? I think I just forgot everything I'd written down."

They both began to laugh, leaning forward and only narrowly avoiding headbutting each other in the face. Frankie couldn't stop grinning, cheeks burning red as she nodded. "I lost the piece of paper I'd written mine on this morning - George thought I'd be able to come up with something on the fly, but I don't think I'm that good."

"Is that why you wanted everyone to leave?" Rosie asked, skin creasing with the weight of his smile.

"... A little," She admitted with another snort, and he let out a burst of laughter. "Just make something up, honey, it's good."

He nodded along, squeezing her hands in a vice grip as he began to speak. "Honey... I love you. And I know I say it a lot, but that doesn't make it mean any less, not to me. I have never been so grateful to have met someone in my entire life, and I can promise you that saying yes to marrying you was the easiest decision I have ever and will ever make," Rosie sucked in a deep breath, the air coming through shaky. "When I went down, the only thing I cared about was getting back here, 'cause the idea of leaving you behind was torture. Every time I went up in that ship, I could think about you and then I knew I'd make it home. I woulda crawled outta hell for one more second with you, so now I'm not going anywhere."

Frankie was smiling so hard that she almost hadn't realised she was crying until Rosie lifted a hand to her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. "Aw shit," She laughed, leaning into his touch. "I should've gone first. Now whatever I say is gonna look rubbish."

He laughed, shaking his head. "D'you need me to leave the room too?" He offered. She guffawed, smacking him playfully across the chest.

"Shut up! Ok, I've got it," Frankie nodded, taking a breath. "I... never used to think about my future - about where I'd go once this was over, and what I'd do, and who I'd do it with. But... since I've met you I think about it all the time. Because whatever I do, I wanna do it with you. I used to think of myself as someone who just had things happen to them, not someone who did things. But I'm not - and when I do things, I want you to be there. I want to live with you, I want to... fuck it, I mean - we could have a baby - I think I could do that," She nodded somewhat frantically along as Rosie resisted the urge to chuckle, beaming at her every word. "But whatever happens, you're gonna be there, so... It's gonna be okay."

The moment she finished talking, Rosie had swooped in, cupping her jaw in both hands as he pressed his lips to hers with such force she almost lost her balance, grinning against his lips as she threw her arms around the back of his neck. The sheer ridiculous informality of it all hadn't ceased to be anything but hilarious to them since the moment the others had left, and they found that the kiss quickly dissolved into laughter, the pair giggling against each other's lips as they swayed slightly to an imaginary rhythm.

A sudden burst of applause caught them by surprise, tearing themselves apart as they turned to face the end of the room, where the double doors were now open, their friends and family huddled in the doorway cheering. Ken and Blakely were whooping noisily, whilst George and Frankie's father clapped along, until she had to rummage in her pockets for a tissue to dry the old man's tears. Frankie had never seen him blubber, but it was certainly a sight to behold. Squirming her way through the small crowd, Jill appeared from somewhere behind Crosby, sprinting across the hall towards the couple, footsteps echoing noisily against the polished floor.

The girl let out a squeal as she barrelled into Frankie's arms, swooping her up off the ground and swinging her around, their laughter blurring into a single sound as she held the child comfortably against her hip, Jill wrapping her arms around her shoulders. Frankie looked back at Rosie once more, and found he was already staring at her. With a smile, she leaned in and kissed him once more.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Music bathed the room, blaring out a beat as people filled the floor, stepping and twirling in time as friendly chatter threatened to drown out the tune. Frankie sat sideways in her chair, leaning back against Rosie's chest as his arm drooped over her shoulders, hanging down across her front as she sipped at the beer bottle in her hand. Bailey had spent the evening ensuring no one ever wanted for a drink, making so many trips to and from the bar that she was sure bystanders were beginning to grow concerned, but as long as he kept her topped up she wasn't going to say anything.

"So..." Ken grinned, taking a sip of his own drink. "Sergeant Rosenthal?"

"What makes you think he's not Major Bevan?" Frankie teased, and Rosie gave her shoulder a small pinch as the briefest flicker of panic crossed Ken's expression, as if he'd somehow been caught saying something he shouldn't, relaxing as she let out a snort of amusement.

"Rosie!" Alice's voice echoed from across the hall, waving to him from the edge of the dancefloor where Jill waited impatiently beside her.

"You owe them a dance, Major," Frankie grunted as she pushed herself up and off him, patting him on the thigh. As he moved to stand, he pressed a kiss to her temple.

"If you don't hear from me in the next hour, send a search party," Rosie uttered, making the others laugh as he left to join the girls.

As if on cue, the moment he had left, George swooped in, taking his place as she stole his seat and seized Frankie in a sideways embrace, burrowing her head into the crook of her neck. Accepting this without a word, Frankie wrapped her arms around George's head, partially obscuring her vision as she rested her chin atop her scalp, chest vibrating against her as she chuckled.

"You still love me the most, right?" George joked.

Frankie scoffed. "Oh, obviously," She nodded.

"Even though you're gonna move to America with him like a fucking traitor," George grumbled, pinching at Frankie's side.

She batted her hand away with a chuckle. "Don't say that like you're not coming too - you'll be engaged at the least by the time this is over, I don't think Blakely can hold out much longer."

"... You think?"

"God, he's such a teenager about it - he's always bragging about you when you're not there, it'd be really annoying if it wasn't so sweet."

"Do I need to be here for this?" Ken interjected flatly, staring blankly at the pair as he steadily drained his cup.

"Dude, I don't even remember inviting you to this," Frankie joked as he rolled his eyes. "Get the fuck over here," She grinned.

He stood up somewhat reluctantly, sliding into the seat on her opposite side, and before he could move away she had wrapped her arm around his neck, pulling him in against her other shoulder so that Ken and George were both clutched to her sides, laughing to themselves.

"This is pretty good, huh," Frankie nodded, letting out a huff as she looked out across the hall, chuckling as she spotted her father, who was deeply engrossed in conversation with a group of Red Cross girls. "... Y'know, as shotgun weddings go."

George smacked her across the leg, bolting upright, she and Ken sharing identical looks of alarm. "You're not-?"

Frankie snorted, shaking her head. "Nah, I'm taking the piss," She confirmed, and the pair relaxed once more, leaning back against her. "... I did tell him earlier that I thought we could have a baby, though."

"That's way more information than I wanted from you," Ken pointed out, voice muffled against her shoulder.

"D'you think I'd be good at it thought?"

The pair offered up non-committal hums of agreement, hissing as she punched them both in the shoulders. "Jesus!" George yelped. "No, obviously you'd be great, Frank!"

"Thank you," She nodded firmly, suddenly realising that the idea really meant something to her - that the possibility that they didn't think she could do it had hurt. It hadn't been until she'd spoken those slapdash vows - until the words had spewed from her without even thinking - that she'd realised it was even something she might have wanted.

But then she caught Rosie's eye, and he smiled at her from across the hall, holding Alice's hand in one of his and Jill's in the other, the three of them dancing in time to the music. They adored him - truly, utterly adored him - and they had done since the very first time they'd met. If he could do it with them, if he could make those girls love him so much from only a handful of meetings, then how wonderful would he be with his own? Even if the whole thing didn't come naturally to Frankie, she felt safe knowing she had a man like Rosie, a man whom any child could love without having to try, a safety blanket when things got tough.

Maybe it wouldn't have worked with anyone else.

But it would with him.

[kenny-the-ken]

A Birthday to Remember

Aged up characters!! All in college!! Contains strong language, sexual content, drugs, alcohol and a lot of partying!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY KENNY!! YOU ARE MY COMFORT CHARACTER AND I LOVE YOU!!

Ps my request are open guys so send me my way!

"Same shit different day as far as I'm concerned, dudes." Kenny sighed, his birthday was something he never did much for.

"But dude, it's your eighteenth! You're only this young once! We gotta go celebrate!" Kyle explained, patting his friend on the back.

Birthdays were a weird subject for Kenny. To him it was just another day, he never got gifts or cards or showered with affection, his family would've gave him a verbal happy birthday and that was about it. The only people who always gave him something were Karen, his friends and y/n. I mean, he was reborn every time he died, so was it even really his birthday anymore?

He just didn't get the hype, if it was someone else's birthday, that was completely different, but Kenny had hardly celebrated any of his birthdays, so why start now?

However, if birthday wishes were real, which he highly doubted, then maybe he'd finally be able to call you his girlfriend. For two years you guys had been friends with benefits on and off, and it meant everything to Kenny. He loves holding your body close to his, smelling your scent on his pillow after you'd left, he loved it, he loved you, but he was terrified you would reject him and you would no longer want to be around him, he didn't want to weird you out and push you away from whatever the fuck this relationship was, so he was happy enough to be your fuck buddy, if it meant he could at least pretend you were both together.

You stood in your room, putting the finishing touches on Kenny's gift, you had made him a scrap book, full of photos of you both, screen shots of your group chats with inside jokes and funny statements in it, bus tickets from when you guys took a trip further afield, the ticket stumps from the cinema when you both went to see that shitty horror movie together that was more of a comedy than anything and finally a flower, the very same one Kenny picked for you when you were young, you had pressed and preserved it perfectly. You sprayed the last page with your perfume and placed a kiss beside it, along with a picture of you both hugging one another and a proposition for him written in your cursive writing. You planned to give it to him at the end of the night.

You finished to get ready, your makeup and hair ready as your hands smoothed over your outfit. You knew Kenny's eyes would pop from his brain when he seen you. You wore a lace, black corset top and a checked pleaded skirt that stopped just below your ass, fishnet tights on your legs and a pair of black high heel boots.

Kyle: We're all headed to the club now, meet you guys outside

Y/N: I'm just about to leave mine, see y'all soon!

You put your phone into your leather jacket pocket, touched up your red lipstick and took two shots of vodka before putting the scrapbook into your large handbag, and leaving the house.

The walk to the club was pretty short, and as you approached you heard all your friends laughing and shouting outside. You smiled to yourself, before seeing Kenny. He didn't have his orange parka on, he wore a flannel shirt and a band tee with blue ripped skinny jeans. You swore your breath caught in your throat as you made your way over to the group.

Kenny's eyes widened upon seeing you, between the cleavage you were showing and how short your skirt was, he didn't know where to look.

"Damn, girl! You look fucking hot!" He exclaimed, his hands then clutching his mouth as he realised what he had just said out loud in front of everyone.

"Thank, Kenny." You said, a small smile on your face your cheeks hot due to how much you were blushing.

"Come on! Let's get in there and get our party on!" Stan shouted, your large group of friends whooping and cheering in response as you all made your way inside.

The nightclub was huge, dark black walls with lights and lasers flashing everywhere, and a mixture of cringey 2000s throwbacks and dance music drummed through your ears.

You went straight to the bar to get drinks, feeling an arm snake around your waist from behind you. You knew it was Kenny, you knew his touch from anywhere.

"You gonna let me see what's under those clothes later, hmm?" He whispered into your ear, a smirk planted firmly on his face as you turned to look at him.

"If you play you cards right then maybe I will. Since it's you're birthday." You teased back, ordering both of you a large vodka and red bull each.

"Happy birthday, welcome to the eighteen club." You purred as Kenny placed a kiss on your cheek.

"In return for buying me a drink, I've got a fat ass blunt rolled, would you care to join me in a smoke?" He said, bowing, taking your hand in his and kissing the back of it.

"Well, since you asked so nicely." You replied, a smile on your face as you both made your way to the smoking area, your friends were already on their way to being tipsy, and you guys had some serious catching up to do.

You both giggled, sipping at your drinks and passing the blunt between you both, Kenny's arm wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping you close to his side. He didn't trust other guys, especially in nightclubs, and with you looking like a full three course meal, he was going to make sure you were protected from any creeps that may be out there.

"I can't wait to give you your present later." You blurted out, the excitement of seeing his face getting too much for you.

Before he could inquire further you both heard your names being called.

"Y/N! KENNY! OUR SONG IS ON!" It was Stan and Kyle, jumping up and down, waving their hands in the air.

"LETS GO DANCE!" They shouted in unison, you both laughing at your friends.

You took Kenny's hand in yours, leading him to the dance floor inside. The place was buzzing, people taking drugs, those so drunk they were skipping the queue for the bathroom so they didn't throw their guts up on the dance floor, or on someone else!

Kenny swore you looked angelic, as your hips began moving, his own joining in, your bodies close to one another. He swore if this kept up he'd be skipping the queue for the bathroom too, but not to puke, to finish himself off before the torment of watching you dance and grind up against him became too much.

"You're such a fucking tease, Princess. And you know how I feel about teasing." Kenny growled lowly in your ear, his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, god if you could take him right now you would, but not before giving him his gift.

Mr Brightside was playing as you all sang along, Kyle shouting for you all at the bar.

"To friends, relationships and having awesome lives together!" He shouted as you all agreed.

"CHEERS!" You all shouted, downing the shot of Sambuca he had bought for you all.

You all quickly made your way back to the dance floor, you all danced together, laughing and giggling all the while.

"Hey, when am I getting my present?" Kenny cooed in your ear, a smirk on his face.

"As soon as we get home." You replied nonchalantly, shooting him a wink. You had just confirmed that you were in fact bringing him back to your dorm room with you, and that could only mean one thing.

"I'm excited." He teased, both his hands on your hips as you both danced together.

"Hey guys, wanna do some drugs?" Eric asked, you both rolling your eyes.

"And where did you get drugs, fat boy?" Kyle snickered, Stan laughing at his comment.

"I got ecstasy off that guy over there." He said pointing to a guy who was in the middle of a drug deal, all of your faces dropping.

"Fuck it, I'm game." Kenny replied as Eric handed him a pink and purple pill.

"Happy fuckin' birthday to me!" Kenny exclaimed before popping the pill in his mouth and gulping down the rest of his drink, and the rest of you followed.

About an hour after you had all ingested your first ecstasy pill and all of you were beyond fucked up. Drinking straight vodka like it was water, shots were far too easy and you guys had smoked two full packets of cigarettes, even Kyle who didn't smoke was smoking like he was an everyday user. Kenny's weed didn't last long either, all of you passing blunts around like it was nothing.

"Dude, have I ever told you how much I fucking love you?" Stan said to Kyle, both of them proclaiming how much they all loved each other and you thought that maybe this was the time for Kenny's gift.

You opened your bag, your vision feeling blurry like everything was going too quickly. And you pulled out the orange and blue scrapbook you had made just for him.

It said on the front of it, 'Y/n and Kenny's crazy adventures' and you smiled as you tapped Kenny on the shoulder.

He broke his conversation with Eric and looked at you, his eyes widening as he seen you holding out a book to him.

"Is this my gift?" He asked, a smile on his face. Kyle and Stan moved closer to see what it was as Eric did the same.

He began flipping through the pages, his smile never faltering once. Pictures of you both when you were kids, dressed up as super heroes, princesses, you name it, it was in there. Pictures of all of you together, all of you smiling in silence as he neared the last page,by our heartbeat increasing.

He landed on the last page, a picture of you both cuddled in bed together after the first time you had both hooked up together, and you'd lost your virginity to him, along with all the other little momentos you had kept. His eyes scanned the words that adorned the page, his cheeks turning bright red.

"Is that even a question? Of course I'll go out with you! I've been wanting to ask you forever, I just thought you didn't like me like that!" Kenny rambled, pulling you into a tight hug, you flush against his chest as you leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I never told you but... in that photo there." You said, pointing to the one of you both in bed.

"You took my virginity." You said, your own cheeks bright red now, as his eyes widened at you, your friends already gone back to talking about a lot of random shit.

"Seriously? I was your first?" He asked, his ego being boosted by the second.

"You were my first, you're my everything, Ken. I love you. I always have, I just knew you didn't like labels and I didn't want you to put a stop to us hooking up because my feelings got the better of me." You said, being completely honest with him, you were never as glad to get it off your chest as you were now.

"I was scared to admit to you for the same reasons." He said lowly, a smile fixed firmly on his face.

"Come here, gimme a kiss." He said, his arms wrapping round your waist once more, both of your lips meeting in a flurry of passion.

This really was the best birthday that Kenny had ever had, and he would cherish it forever, just like he vowed from that moment on to cherish you forever too, and never ever let you go. Not in life or in death.

[shojizbae]

Memory Lane

Adult! Tom Kaulitz x Reader

“Ich bin nervös, bist du?”

“Ja eine kleine.”

The studio has a chilled doctor's office waiting room feel, with an all-white background, boring gray chairs, and gigantic LED panels. It’s been ten years since Tom and I broke up, so Vogue wanted us to tell our story. We’re both wearing smart blazers, although Tom has paired his with some slacks and leather sneakers. Mine is paired with a slim dress and some utility boots.

The crew is finishing up micing us and doing a final mic check before the camera starts rolling. The director calls us on, and we take our seats. At least the chair is comfortable.

“So it’s been ten years since the two of you separated.”

“Ja, well, we tell our friends it’s been 10 years since we ended our sexual relationship.”

“Ja, well, we are still excellent friends.” I agree and pat Tom's knee

“So, how did the two of you meet?” the producer asks. He looks very stereotypical, with his crossed pensive arms and all-too-self-important expression. He even has his finger on his lip like Jeff Goldbloom.

“Well, Tom met me when I started touring with them as their opener, but I met Tom through the band. I got a CD of Schrei the day it came out. So working with them was like a total dream come true.” I explain, gesticulating the whole time.

“And Tom, what was your first impression of (Y/n)?”

“Well, they put us in a meeting to discuss her work with us and showed a video of her shredding her bass, and I thought, wow, this girl is so hot and so good at playing. And the. We met her in person, and Bill will say I followed her like a puppy, but she made the first move. And yeah, I always thought she was so cool and talented, and she was just so pretty.” He finished his rambles by looking at me

“Aw, thank you, Tommy.” You cross your legs and await the following instructions. The producer hands you an ornate-looking scrapbook. They instruct you to open to the first page, and it shows the first tabloids to sniff out your and Tom’s relationships. Pictures of the two of you strutting around Berlin, hand in hand.

“Oh, sehr kleine!” I looked at the pictures as the memories came flooding back—the first few weeks when we were so excited to be in love with each other. I had a pout and enormous sunglasses clouding my face, and Tom was smiling proudly and holding up our interlaced hands.

“Woah, we were so. Gott, you were so skinny.” Tom mentions

“Do you want to explain these photos?” The director asks.

“This is-this is 2006.” I look right into the lens. “We, I think, had been dating for a month at this point.” I point to a picture of me readjusting Tom’s dreads on a park bench.

“Poor Georg and Gustav, they were so sick of my shit at this point.” Tom points to an infamous photo of the two of you making out of a sofa between the boys, and their faces are completely annoyed. I laugh at the picture. Everything about it reminds me of being young. I’ve got Tom’s hat on, and his hands are sliding under the hem of my shorts.

“Yeah, we’re little animals.” I agree. My eyes scan the bag one more time. The dramatically patterned zip-up hoodies and the DC sneakers were just beautiful.

“Alright, you can turn the page.”

The next page shows more pictures of us walking around town, on vacation, and on stage together. I whoop when I see the photo of Tom and I playing guitar back to back.

“Woah, I remember this night.”

“Ja, the crowd was just electric.” Tom reminisces

“It was electric, and everything just worked out. We were supposed to be late to the venue for traffic, but it cleared out. Mic checks were shady, and one of Gustav’s drum heads almost ripped, but this was an incredible night.”

“I remember your singing being extra special, too. " My heart flutters, and I brush my hand over the photo. When I look at my hand, I see the tattoos and my promise ring.

“What a good night.”

“Alright, now that we’ve got some background, we’re going into your more notable fashion moments.” On the next page were some of our most ridiculous statements. The time Tom wore 3 hats on a red carpet. At the time, I performed in a bra and underwear. The two of us wearing Dirndl and Leider Hoisen. And most famously, the handcuff belt accident.

“Oh, this is when we performing at the worldwide German convention.” I point to pictures of me and the band dancing around in traditional German clothes. We couldn’t have been older than 18 at that time.

“That night was so fun. We all bought these matching steins, and we nearly went through a keg of beer.” Tom recalls. I tried to recall that, but after I got off stage and we started drinking, my memory fogged up.

“Who is the better drinker?”

“Well, technically, Bill is the best of the band because he could put back as much hard liquor as he wants and then roll out of bed and sing, but I think that night,”

“Nein, it’s totally Georg; he had the body mass to soak up all the liquor.” Before we knew it, Tom and I argued in German about the best drinker.

“Well, if we want to talk about this picture,” Tom recenters the focus, pouting at the page, “(Y/n) can drink any of us under the table when it comes to beer.”

“I think you guys are intentionally ignoring one pair of photos.”

“And which ones would those be?” I play coy with the producer

“Why don’t you turn the page.” The next page is just many zoomed-in shots of the two of us wearing my infamous handcuff belt. I wore it on a four-month tour of the United States in almost every show. But during one show in Fort Lauderdale, it had been damaged very distinctly. I was in a post-show interview showing it off, so everyone knew the handcuff belt had two big scratches on the left side. Which was all fine and dandy until I got home to Germany, and I hadn’t seen my famously horny boyfriend in four months. And, of course, we took to the first private area we could find. I can't remember if that was a car or a hotel, but in the evening, a photograph of Tom in a handcuffed belt with two scratches on the left side was circulating every drama outlet and tabloid.

“Oh, nein, why would you circle it?” Tom holds the book up to show close-up shots of me performing and him giddily strutting down the sidewalk.

“I don’t know why this photo got so much attention at that moment because we shared clothes all the time,” Tom said casually as if that would save this. “I think once I was on stage, a pair of your panties fell out of my pocket. Everyone knew what we were doing.”

“Did you ever steal Tom’s clothes?” Someone on the crew asks. It’s difficult to see beyond the panel of lights

“Did she? Sheiße, she wore my underwear more often than she would wear her own.” I hid my fave in my hands, knowing that when Tom’s voice pitched up like that, we were in for a rant, “Anytime we shared a hotel on vacation or for work, I would leave clean clothes on my bed for after my shower. I would go in the shower rubba-dub-dub. And when I got back, my boxers were gone. Where did they go? I would scratch my head for twenty minutes until (y/n) got out of the shower, and she toweled off her hair in a big t-shirt. That big t-shirt was usually mine, by the way, and when she would lift her arms, I could see that she had taken my underwear!”

I could feel the blood racing around my face under my skin. Tom started rubbing circles on my back.

“You seem to be overhearing. Why don’t we turn the page?” I’m still reeling from embarrassment, so Tom flips the page.

“Oh mein maus.” Tom coos under his breath.

“Was?”

“You be got to look at these.” He placed a hand on my wrist. I scan around the page, and it looks like a true scrapbook photo with twisted angles and stickers everywhere. I run my finger over a photo of me on a skateboard and Tom facing me, holding both my hands. I feel a lump forming in my throat. Our smiles were completely taking over our faces. Photos of us on dates to the mall and the roller ring. Tuning each other's guitars and cuddling on tour buses. In one picture, I was completely knocked out on a couch, and Tom was under me with his face scrunched up like he had eaten a lemon.

“Why did you look like that?” I point at his I-just-stubbed-my-toe-face

“You were sleeping like an angel, baby.” I was lying on his chest, and his hand tangled in my hair.

“When even was this?” I mutter somewhat to myself

“I think it was the music festival in Italy.” He replies in German.

“Oh Ja, I can see the hem of my stupid leather pants. Hottest day of a southern Italian summer, and I decided to wear leather leggings. They were so sweaty. My whole body was like wet.”

“That’s probably why you fell asleep. I think I remember peeling those pants off you and giving you some boxers to sleep in.” I remember waking up in red checkered boxers with flaming skulls on them. “They were dripping sweat,” Tom confirms

“That’s gross.” I groan. “Wait, who took this picture?”

“Es war Bill.”

“Aw wie geht it ihm?”

“Gut.”

“Gut.”

We chatter about pictures taken as we walk from the cinema, shots of us performing together, pictures taken sneakily on vacation, and some god-awful photos of us on the red carpet. We talk about our styles and how they’ve evolved. Obviously, Tom’s the most, as he no longer wears pants that could house a small village.

“But I feel like your style has changed a lot. And when we got older, you dressed a lot according to the trends.”

“Yeah, there was a time in 2012-2013 when I was as obsessed with wearing colorful, like, pastel skinny jeans with pumps. And then just a tank top and a blazer.”

“Oh, Ja,” Tom flips over to a picture of the two of us. You looked nice—like a little business lady.”

“I was a little business lady. I just don’t like how they looked on my thighs.” I heard Tom scoff next to me. “I’m glad the fashion pendulum has swung back to baggier, more relaxed-fit jeans.”

“I do enjoy being more easy breezy.” Tom wiggles his hips around on his chair, “I didn’t like wearing skinny jeans. I felt like everyone was staring at my dick.”

“I was,” I smirk, and we reminisce about our early 20s, and I feel pity for the girl stomping around Manhattan in her pumps with the boys she’s in line with because she has no clue she only has two years left with him.

“That’s when you had the cornrows and wore a lot of flannel and scarves.” We reminisce about his switch to slim-fit jeans with little leather patches from his embroidered diesels.

“Alright, and we’ll finish things with a bang.” The producer states and tells us to turn the page. On the next page is my biggest embarrassment. For a few months, Tom and I had a running gag. An overly intrusive interviewer was nearly interrogating Tokio Hotel, and I came into the studio just at the wrong time. The journalist had asked the boys about their hobbies while some were walking around. Naturally, as we had been dating for a year, I stood near Tom as he paced. When they asked him what his hobby was, he replied, “This,” and grabbed me by the hips and dry-humped me a few times. At first, I spun around and slapped him on the chest, non-seriously.

I loved how horny he was for me.

Later, I was being interviewed, and a different journalist asked me what my favorite pastime was. As the boys were lingering behind the camera crew, Tom decided to wander in and bend over in front of me, so I grabbed him by the hips and dry-humped him. He topped off with dramatic moans and crossed eyes, but seeing the journalist completely flushed made us laugh.

“I would say that’s my favorite pastime. Or maybe writing music.” For the next few months, we would take any opportunity to pretend to fuck each other on red carpets, on the street, or on stage. Going so far as to write a single called “sexsüchtig” or sex addict so I could have Tom sit on a wooden chair and give him lap dances on stage. There was a smattering of images of us just being promiscuous everywhere. One picture showed me in chunky platform heels and a lacy mini skirt, sitting on a wooden chair with my head tipped back, singing. I had a foot on Tom’s shoulder while he fake ate me out, kneeling in front of me. I even wrote the song with a verse of just runs that sound like moans.

That was a crowd favorite when I would perform it.

“Alright, we’re going to have you guys watch some edits that people make of you on TikTok.”

“Oh, nein.” I groan

“Are you on TikTok?” The producer asks

“I’m not. But I know everyone else is. And some of that stiff bleeds over to Instagram. And so I see it there. But I try to stay off social media.”

“And you, Tom?”

“I’ve seen some stuff, but Ja, I’m most just like Instagram.”

“Ok so for the most part, you haven’t seen these?”

"Nein because Gustav's daughter sends them to me." At one, they hand Tom a giant iPad and open the photos app with a few edits loaded up. They began a screen recording and showed what they had learned to be a standard edit of Tom. Some clip of him saying something, and then they would splice photos of him over some sexual song called "Do you wanna fuck”. I smiled down at it in memory.

“Woah, you’re such a baby. You can’t be more like than 15 in some of those.”

“Ja, I was young.”

“It’s kind of weird that people wanted to fuck you if you’re so young.”

“In all fairness, it’s not like I wasn’t having sex at the time these pictures were taken.” He smiled. “All right next!”

The next edit was of me to a sir-mix-a-lot song, and out came blasting, “but I got to be straight when I say I wanna huh-ooh til the break of dawn.” It played a clip of me rolling my eyes. God, I used to wear so much eyeliner. There are more pictures of me at suggestive angles.

“God, you’re so hot.” Tom laughs. “look at you and your hot pink guitar”

“This is super weird to watch. It’s impressive, but I’m just slightly jarred.” We watch more individuals before they switch over to some nonserious clips of us essentially chirping at each other. They caption the videos with 'goofiest couple' or 'cutie patooties.' I enjoyed the videos of us being children having pillow fights in hotels and making weird groans.

"Alright, and finally, we're going to finish the video with one final edit of the you two." Tom clicks the final play button it's a slowed-down edit of the two of us while in the era of me giving lap dances. The pure eroticism of us grinding against each other. The look of it. His eye as he studies me singing. And how I stared into his soul while I sang about how good he fucks me.

It wouldn't hurt to climb into his lap again. I love his wife, Heidi, but I miss him. After 3 years with my boyfriend, Gregory, and no engagement ring in sight, just this shitty promise ring. That was the whole reason we split. After dating Tom for a decade, I was ready to get married. Sure, we were only 24, but I only wanted him. And that wasn't what he wanted, so we split.

Now, ten years have passed, and I'm still not married.

He's right next to me, and I miss him.

[zabala0z]

Hii welcome back to “newbie rips hair out over writing TMA notes” I’m your eternal host and I’m dying here guys.

Haven’t watched episode 39: infestation yet cause i wrote my notes digitally and had this convention today but when doing this, I noticed some new stuff!!

1. In page Turner, Gerard keay showed up. He showed up earlier than I thought. Along with his mom who apparently was dead yall I did not pay attention. 💀 It’s interesting since in Old Passages, we got to see teenage him (still sporting the cheap hair dye) and he said his mom knows about all this stuff which is true since in page Turner, she was all over Jurgen Leitners books.

2. Sarah Baldwin!! I learned this through a mutual but I’m glad I could see some other details. I wonder how disappearing near Old Fisherman Close leads to you peeling off your skin and stapling it. She also was called a smoker and in Skintight, she smoked a ton.

3. In Do Not Open, the truck was called “Breekon and Hope deliveries” who, when reading the transcripts, are the two delivery men who delivered Jons shit in Old Passages. I don’t know if knowing their names was a spoiler (whoops) but they also delivered a pale yellow stole to Father Edwin in Desecrated Host! I was just scouring the transcripts trying to figure that out yall.

4. This is a mild theory but maybe the John in Do Not Open is the same John in Taken Ill??? They’re both named John and that’s all I got but eh

Anyways that’s everything. Might not listen to the next ep until tomorrow night cause man if I see one more mention of teeth or worms or bugs or meat, I will cry. Also it’s 12 am

[einsatzzz]

For the weirdly specific artist ask game, can you answer 3, 4, and 14 ❤️

Heewwwooo Butter!!! Thank you for sending this, yipeee!!! 🥳🥳💖✨ I rambled too much with #3 (What ideas come from when you were little), I'm putting it last.

4. Fav character/subject that's a bitch to draw

I already answered this here, but I'll give you another. Lum/ine, Ae/ther, Ei, Xi/ao, Wan/derer and any of my other faves from any Mi/hoyo game that I play, because goddamn! Just look at their outfits! Back when I was still drawing fanarts for Gen/shin, I will die every time just from drawing the details of their clothing. But I was too down horrendous for Lu/mine to just give up on drawing her. So when I switched to drawing Sp/yFam fanarts right after, my art braincells are just "Thank God, this evil Gen/shin obsession has been defeated".

Not gonna lie, with them releasing Oro/ron and Sun/day so close to each other, I'm starting to feel the urge to draw them again...wtf djfbjsd Anyway, if anyone drawing Gen/shin fanart (specifically) comes across this by any chance, here's a lifesaver reference site that I used for their outfits. It made the experience slightly less painful.

14. Any favorite motifs

Motifs where there are opposites of light/darkness and sun/moon, but not exactly presented in a black/white way where you know from a glance which is the absolute good and which is the absolute evil. It's more of like ying yang, where there's "complementary and at the same time opposing forces" or that "in kindness, there's evil; in evil, there's kindness". I believe the gray blur where each of these sides converge is the best place ever to explore in fiction.

3. What ideas come from when you were little

The concept itself of making a comic! When I was around...I guess around 4th to 5th grade? Around ten years old or less? I remember drawing this comic of an original story I had back then. I think the setting is something like a historical drama in Ko/rea.

That's because even in the late 2000's and early 2010s, kd/ramas were popping off so hard in PH, almost every adult I knew were watching them. It would always play in the background whenever I'm doing homework or when my mother is tutoring me. The titles I can remember were Je/wel in the Pa/lace and Queen Se/ondok (<-OK I GOTTA CONFESS THIS ONE CHANGED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY).

Anyway, my younger self got so into this original comic story, I probably ended up drawing up to like half a ream of papers? sdjfbjshvfshd It's all traditional drawings with short bond papers with just a shitty ballpoint black pen. I was ten years old(?), so it definitely looked not so good. It's a secret project so I'm the only one who knows about it and I also hid it under our cabinet like it's some lemon fanfic hahaha (it's more action, tragedy with a bit of romance) I think it's because of that bit of romance that I hid it out of embarrassment, also the papers were actually supposed to be for when we need to print something for school projects, so I think I thought I was gonna get scolded for "wasting" them. I'm not about risk myself getting whooped with either a slipper, belt or broom bro 💀💀💀

I think what happened after that is for when your art perception improves but ur art skills can't catch-up, so I kind of had an art block and wasn't satisfied with it anymore. Then I ripped the pages and threw the entire thing away dsjvfhdsfvshdf 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I wish I didn't 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 I have no start point to compare my current art with anymore and I can't even remember the story or the OCs that I had in there anymore.

Anyway, I'm making up for it now by making comics seriously fr fr and I won't be deleting it even if a ten-wheeler art block truck hits me and runs me over.

This question made me look through the oldest fandom account I can remember, for possible old arts and it's actually so funny/embarrassing how passive-aggressive 14 year old me is. Someone commented "I don't like this ship! This character is only mine!" on a rarepair ship fanart I showed to the group and 14-year old me replied "I understand your feelings, but you're not his only fan so keep that to yourself next time ^_^" ajvfsghdcghsdcds other interactions are also full of haterism energy it makes me go GHURL STOP!!! 😭😭😭😭 THAT'S SO MEAN!!! This 14 year old is a wholeass different person, who does this bitch think they are?!

[silvery-bluish]

Tell us about Ars, Danny, and Ricardo? What are they like together? Does Ars act differently around Danny as they do Ric? Where do they all stand at the end of Retri?

Haha oh we’re inviting walltext. Sorry for the delay, this took me a few days to write out LOL dropping it beneath a cut bc it's pretty long.

tldr: ricardo means a lot to them and has always meant a lot to them, but theyre real bad at communicating. Daniel makes them better at communicating in some ways but they're very aware they fucked that up before it started. They're stuck in Ortega's apartment and theyre gonna implode dramatically.

Arsinoe and Ricardo have the weight of their past behind them, the 8-odd years of being at its complicate (with a break to be presumed dead) has comfort to it, Ricardo’s part of their normal, it’s like falling back into orbit when they’re near him. But there’s lots of things left unsaid, undefined, unclarified, because they felt they COULDNT in the old days and they certainly feel like they can’t now. Which is part of why they spend most of Retri avoiding him, whoops.

I think Ricardo’s afraid to push them too hard to clarify, these days, bc that might make them run again, and he wasn’t ready to push for things like publicly officially dating, in the Sidestep days. They trust each other in ways that are practically automatic at this point. They’d die for each other. They keep assuming they’re on the same page when they’re in entirely different books.

Arsinoe and Daniel sure don’t have that inertia behind them, so in some ways it’s easier to talk plainly? Daniel’s earnest bluntness and mental openness make Ars answer in kind. It's easier, smaller, maybe, for now, not as entwined as their relationship is with Ricardo, but that's safer, in some ways? They like his determination, his Decision to see the best in people.

They do have the, uh, fact that Arsinoe is So Very Aware that they fucked up his knee at the gala, because at the time he hadn't made it to the list of people they give a shit about and they'd decided that hurting him was the fastest way to be sure he wouldn't get in their way again. Whoops. This affects their interaction with him in two main ways-- they're pretty constantly worrying that they're taking advantage of the fact that he doesn't know - which is also kinda true - and they're hyperaware of not wanting to hurt him again, in a way that means they probably back off a little too fast when they're training which probably makes Daniel think they're going easy on him, sometimes?

So. They won't commit to anything real and firm and solid with either of them, because Arsinoe is very aware that the villain situation means anything they're building right now is going to inevitably fall apart except oops! car crash!! ortega knows theyre a regene and the world didnt end! Arsinoe's staying in Ortega's apartment, because it would feel like taking too much advantage of Daniel to stay in his apartment, and they don't want to leave Los Diablos to get to the Ranch, and Ricardo's apartment has been something like safe for them before so maybe it's safe now--

(They're rapidly running out of excuses to avoid talking about their relationships. I want them to villain reveal before they get anything firmed up relationship-wise, because they are-- very stressed out about building something they want and having it ripped away from them, inevitably. Safer not to name it. Probably going to accidentally imply to the guys theyre ready for a poly relationship talk and then actually hit them with the villain reveal. Sorry All.)

[orionsstory]

girl from mars | cygnus (02)

yayyy chapter two is finished !! and it's like double the last chapter whoops. will be posted on ao3 (whenever the site is back up rip) ---

Dawn is awoken by the noise of something falling in the other room. She slowly blinked her eyes open, her vision coming into focus as she saw Amanda stumbling out of her room. She was wearing a black pencil skirt and a white button-up, and her red hair was put up in a low bun. She looked beautiful. "'Manda?" She groaned out, attempting to sit up but was stopped by Violet, who was lying on her chest.

"Good morning," Amanda hummed as she rummaged around the kitchen, "sorry, I'm in a rush. Fucking alarm didn't go off. I have some leftovers for you in the fridge, and don't go anywhere- I don't want you getting lost." She slid on a low pair of heels, came back over the couch, and leaned over to pet Violet.

"I'll be back in about 8 hours, okay? I left my phone number on the kitchen counter in case you need anything. Just call."

"Okay..." Dawn yawned, staring up at her with wonder.

Amanda smiled brightly, it reminded Dawn of the Sun. She lazily smiled back at her, barely registering the sound of the front door shutting and locking as she fell back asleep.

-

Dawn woke up a few hours later, and a glance towards the clock read 10:13 am. She groaned as she shifted on the couch, Violet meowing in protest.

"Sorry Vi..." She mumbled, scratching in between the cat's ears. Violet settled back down, her purrs seemed to vibrate through Dawn's entire being. It made her giggle. She lay there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling before her stomach rumbled, interrupting her and her thoughts.

She stood up, apologizing to Violet who was forced off of her spot. She stumbled into the bathroom, struggling to open the packaging her toothbrush was in. She cursed as she finally got through the plastic, accidentally cutting herself on a part of it. She was finally able to brush her teeth, grimacing at the taste of the toothpaste. Gross, maybe human stuff wasn't as good as she thought.

She made her way to the kitchen, Violet following on her heels. She rummaged through the fridge, trying to find the food Amanda had left for her. "Leftovers...leftovers...left...overs." She muttered as her eyes scanned the contents of the fridge. She didn't really understand what the word meant...but she figured it couldn't be too hard to figure out. She took out a container that looked like it contained some noodles, figuring this was probably a leftover she took it out.

She rummaged around for a fork, sitting down on the couch as she looked around. She knew Amanda had a tv, which meant she had to have something to turn it on with. She picked up a small black object on the side table, turning it over in her hand. She pressed a button at the top, and the TV flickered to life. Huh, remotes had gotten smaller compared to the ones she learned about in school. At least most of the buttons on it seemed to be the same.

"YouTube...Netflix...are these...channels?" She murmured, flicking through the carousel. She clicked on one, YouTube, and was brought to a page filled with several little videos. Dawn clicked on a random one, letting it play as she ate the cold noodles. Her attention was glued to the video, fascinated by it. The next few hours passed as she watched more and more videos, this was so much more interesting than her professors had described. Humans were so intriguing, she'd have to ask Amanda more about it when she got back.

The video playing ended, and the next one started autoplaying. It wasn't a video containing people talking like the last ones, but it was a song. It sounded so different from the human music that her professors had shown her, and in her opinion, this sounded a lot better. The artist's songs kept playing and Dawn found herself falling more and more in love with the music. It was so different from the music from her home planet, she found herself paying attention to every lyric and melody. The next few hours flew by without her even noticing.

-

"I'm home!" Amanda called out as she entered the room, slinging her bag off of her shoulder and dropping it beside the doorway. She paused, looking over towards Dawn. "Are...are you listening to Taylor Swift?"

Dawn looked back at her, shrugging her shoulders. She handed Amanda the remote as she leaned over the couch, the other girl scrolling through the recently played.

"Jesus, you've listened to like...a whole album." Amanda chuckled, "Did you like it?"

She enthusiastically nods, "You guys have such good music here, it's so different from our music back home. I've heard human music before but...nothing like this!"

Amanda took a seat next to her on the couch, "What kind of music? Do you remember any of the song names?"

Dawn thought for a moment, she remembered the song she had liked the most started with a B. "B...Blandy? No, that's not right...something with 'fine girl', that's all I remember."

"Brandy?" Amanda suggests, and Dawn snaps her fingers. "Brandy! That's it! I mean, don't get me wrong I liked it, but it was nothing like this."

Amanda chuckles, "That's probably because that song is like, 50 years old. Music has changed a lot since then. I'll have to show you some of my favorites sometime."

Dawn grinned, "Please! I'd love that."

Amanda softly smiled, stretching as she got up. "Okay, let me go change and then I'll cook us some dinner- did you find the food I left for you?"

"I did. It was such an interesting texture...also kind of cold."

"Sorry about that," she heard Amanda call from the other room, "usually people eat it hot, but I didn't have the time to teach you how to work the microwave."

Amanda reappeared from her room, dressed in a tank top and pair of sweatpants. "You're really pretty." Dawn couldn't stop herself from blurting it out, she felt slightly embarrassed until she saw the smile on Amanda's face.

"Thanks, Dawn. You're not too bad yourself." She laughed, making her way to the kitchen. Dawn jumped off the couch and followed behind her eagerly. "What to make...what to make..." Amanda muttered, looking up at her cabinets. Dawn mimicked her movements, carefully watching her.

"How do you feel about grilled cheese?"

"Grilled...cheese?"

"It's just two pieces of bread and some cheese in between...sometimes I put bacon on mine if I'm feeling fancy. Well, it's vegan bacon. I can get some regular bacon for you to try sometime."

Dawn nodded along, pretending to have some sort of idea of what those ingredients were.

"Grilled cheese...sounds good."

Dawn watched as Amanda pulled out all the ingredients, setting them aside on the counter. She motioned for Dawn to come closer.

"Do you wanna help?"

Dawn eagerly nodded, standing beside Amanda. Amanda instructed her to take out the bread and cheese while she cooked the bacon. Dawn carefully put the pieces of cheese on the bread while she watched Amanda cook. The bacon sizzled in the pan, Dawn hid behind Amanda as some of the oil hit her skin.

"Sorry about that, you've gotta be careful when frying stuff." Amanda apologized, turning off the stove as she slid the bacon onto a plate. She instructed Dawn to place the bacon onto the sandwiches while she cleaned the pan. Dawn took the utmost care in the work, making sure everything was equal and fair.

Amanda then had Dawn cut off a small sliver of butter and put it into the frying pan, she then watched as Amanda carefully picked up one of the sandwiches with the spatula, sliding it into the pan. She pressed the sandwich down with the spatula, a hissing sound coming from the pan. Dawn backed away again.

"Don't worry! That's normal- promise." Amanda's smile comforted her, coaxing her to come forward again. She watched as Amanda flipped the sandwich, the side that was previously down was now a brown color, crispy. After another minute or so, she put the sandwich on a plate.

"Do you wanna try the other one?"

"Uhh..."

"Don't worry, I'll be here to help you."

With reassurance, she stepped forward. She copied the steps from before, slicing the butter before carefully sliding the sandwich into the pan.

"How do I know when to flip it?"

Amanda shrugged, "You kinda just have to keep lifting it up to make sure it's not burnt. As you do it more you'll get a better idea of how long it takes. Grilled cheese doesn't usually take too long."

Dawn nodded, paying careful attention to her words as she lifted the sandwich with the spatula, peeking under. She put it back down for another few seconds before checking again, flipping it over.

"Like that?"

"Perfect!"

Dawn flushed, a smile growing across her face. She almost forgot to take the sandwich off, but luckily she caught it just in time. She proudly showed it off to Amanda who clapped for her, praising Dawn. She almost didn't want it to stop, but alas, it did.

The two sat on the couch, Amanda clicking on the TV. "Did you wanna watch anything specific?"

Dawn shook her head, "I don't remember the name of anything I watched. We can just watch something you like."

Amanda hummed, clicking on some TV show that Dawn didn't know. She slowly bit into her sandwich, processing the taste. It felt a bit weird in her mouth but she liked it, the cheese felt kind of strange, but not in a bad way.

"Is it good? Do you like it?"

Dawn nodded, "It's so...weird. But not in a bad way, it's really good! It's all like...clingy."

Amanda chuckled, "That's cause the cheese is all melted, when some stuff gets all hot it'll cling onto the stuff it's between."

"Ohhh." Dawn nodded along, turning her attention back to whatever was playing on the television. "What are we watching?"

"The Bachelor. Basically, all these women are competing to marry this guy- it's such a shitty show but it's so good."

"Do they stay married?"

Amanda laughed, "No. Not most of the time, anyway. But it's fun for the drama. They have a version with guys competing for the girl as well."

"So...are they actors?"

"No, they're real people chosen for a show, they're not playing a character. It's called reality TV- shows like Survivor or Big Brother. We'll have to watch those too."

Dawn nodded along, just happy to spend more time with Amanda. She knew so much about this, Dawn found it impressive. She was patient with her, explaining the things she didn't understand or certain slang she didn't know.

"Oh! Before I forget, I have something for you." Amanda jumped up from the couch, rummaging through her bag. She pulled out a sleek device and handed it to Dawn. She turned it over in her hand, clicking it on.

"Isn't this a phone?"

It was thinner and sleeker than the chunky phones with cords she had learned about. It was fascinating to see the evolution of human technology.

"Yup! I got it from Sapphira, I figured you'd need one so you can contact me throughout the day. Plus, now that we can talk and now that you have GPS, you can start working on your ship!"

Dawn launched across the couch and enveloped her in a hug, grinning wildly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! How does it work?"

Amanda spent the next hour teaching Dawn how her phone worked (it can scan her face, how neat!) and setting it up. Now she had Amanda's number and could bug her at any time, something she'd be sure to make use of. She got to set up her wallpapers- a pretty space theme, of course.

"So...I know I said we'd get you some clothes today, but it's late and I'm a bit too tired for that. But, I was thinking, maybe tomorrow we can go shopping instead? I mean, don't get me wrong I don't mind you wearing mine, but I thought it might be nice for you- to do like a human activity. Does that make sense?"

"Like...like at a mall and everything?"

Amanda nodded and Dawn lit up. "I've wanted to go to a mall so bad, please can we go?"

"Okay, okay, we'll leave around noon tomorrow. We can get lunch and then go shopping. We'll make a whole day out of it."

"Sounds fun," Dawn mumbled, having returned to munching on her sandwich.

The rest of the night flew by, as time often did with Amanda. They watched another episode of The Bachelor, Dawn watched with interest as Amanda yelled at a man on screen- for what, Dawn didn't know, but she found it amusing nonetheless. After that, Dawn helped Amanda do the dishes (where she found out a soap shared her name- it has ducks on it!), which Dawn found fun despite the fact that she ended up spraying most of the water on herself. In her defense, those hose things were hard to operate!

Amanda let her take a shower after that, giving Dawn the basic rundown. It was easy enough- it was different from the way they did things back home but they had talked about it in classes. It was strange to actually act it out, though. Dawn carefully dried her body and hair, the soft towel felt so comforting.

Now, she was lying on the couch, enveloped in her soft blankets. She smelled like Amanda now- she couldn't explain why, but it brought a sense of comfort to her. She had to fight not to fall asleep, but the sound of the shower was lulling her to sleep. She wanted to stay awake- to tell Amanda goodnight. But as Violet curled up onto her, she felt herself drifting off to sleep.

-

She woke up the next morning to the sound of Amanda talking to someone, muffled by the closed door. She slowly blinked her eyes open to clear her vision, scratching Violet between her ears. Violet purred, rubbing her head against Dawn's hand. "Mornin' Vi." She yawned, stretching her arms.

She gently sat up as Violet scurried off of her, running a hand through her messy hair. She heard Amanda thanking someone before the talking stopped and she emerged from her room. She was dressed casually in a purple tank top with a daisy and a black skirt, contrasted by her bright ginger hair resting on her shoulders.

"Oh! Morning Dawn, I was just about to wake you. I left you some clothes on my bed for you to wear out. I don't really know what your style is, so I hope they're good enough."

Anything Amanda picked out for her would be good enough, but she didn't tell her that. It was too embarrassing, she didn't want to come off as clingy. She scurried off into the bathroom after picking up the clothes and getting ready. She tapped the bracelet and morphed into her human form. She brushed out her black hair, opting to leave it down, and shredded her old clothes to put on the ones that Amanda gave her. It was a matching purple tank top and some shorts that she was pretty sure were denim.

She emerged from Amanda's room, "What do you think?"

Amanda gasped, her eyes lighting up. "You look so cute! And look, we match!"

Dawn blushed at that, nodding and giggling along with her.

"So, all ready to go?"

Dawn nodded and followed Amanda as they exited the apartment. She tried to follow closely behind Amanda as she led the two down the streets of the city, growing busier and busier as they got closer into the city. It began to be harder to keep up with her as the crowds increased and Dawn had to stand on her tiptoes to try and see the ginger.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed hers. She looked up, greeted by the ginger she was looking for. "Don't want you gettin' lost." She spoke, smiling brightly at her. Dawn was too flustered to speak, only gently nodding in response.

Amanda then led them underground, Dawn's eyes widening at the fluorescent lighting and grunge. She was even more shocked when she saw what looked like a train stationed farther down.

"Ever been on the subway before?" Amanda swiped her card through something, beckoning Dawn to go through. "No- I've heard of it though. Almost didn't think it was real." She called back as she went through the thing, patiently waiting at the end for Amanda.

"Buckle up, it's an...experience for sure."

They linked hands again, and Amanda led her to the crowded platform. She glanced around at the people, observing them. The chatter and noise of the subway was a bit overwhelming, she knew places could get busy but she didn't know it would feel like this. People pushed and bumped into her, it made her panic slightly, clinging onto Amanda's hand.

Amanda pulled her closer to her, "Rush hour. It'll be less crowded on our way back."

Dawn nodded, her attention now pulled by a train pulling up to the platform. It made a huffing noise as the doors opened, Amanda tugging her inside. She quickly snagged seats for the two of them, letting Dawn take the side closest to the door. She watched as Amanda pulled something out of her bag, placing one in her ear.

"It's an earbud, we use it for music." She explained, handing the other one to Dawn. Dawn copied her movements, placing the device in her other ear. Amanda adjusted it slightly before pressing something on her phone. Suddenly, Dawn's ear was filled with music, her eyes widened a little in shock as Amanda softly chuckled.

The ride was nice, Dawn enjoyed looking out the window even though the scenery didn't change much- mostly dark tunnel interrupted by the occasional platform. They passed a few more stops before Amanda tugged her up, leaving the train at the next stop. They passed back up to the busy street and Amanda led her towards a large building, pushing open the door.

Dawn was in awe- the place was massive. Several floors were filled with bright lights and colors, and people flooded in and out of the various stores. It captivated her. She almost forgot she could move until Amanda gently tugged her along, saying something about getting a bite to eat. She got to ride on moving stairs (she almost got stuck at the top though, it was a close call) and be pulled further into the large building. Her eyes shone as Amanda led her to a giant opening, tables filling the middle of the room and restaurants lining the walls.

"Do you want to try anything in particular?"

Her brain zeroed back in on Amanda, trying to process what she said. She shook her head 'no', watching as Amanda stood there in thought.

"We can do the chicken place, I think you might like chicken."

"Sounds interesting..." She mumbled, her eyes still wide as she gazed over all the choices. She followed Amanda's lead, navigating through the crowd until they reached a restaurant. The place was bright red, and had a smell coming from it- she didn't know what exactly it was, but it smelled delicious. She silently watched as Amanda ordered for the both of them, only letting go of her hand when Amanda handed her a cup.

"It's for your drink- there's a drink station over there," Amanda explained, gesturing with her other hand as she got out her wallet.

Dawn made her way over, looking at all the choices. She didn't know what any of them were, but she did see a larger clear tube in the middle- for ice, perhaps? She was proven correct as ice tumbled (very loudly, may she say) into the cup. She then perused her choices, settling on 'root beer'. She gently pressed her cup against the little bar, smiling to herself as the drink filled up.

She pulled it away once the drink was filled, turning to Amanda who had just approached.

"I figured it out! Ice and everything!" She proudly beamed, showing the cup to Amanda.

"Wow, you're better at picking things up than some of the kids I used to babysit." She smiled, repeating the process for her own drink. She then collected tops, placing Dawns for her. She then led Dawn over to a nearby table to wait as Amanda left to go wait for their food. It took a few minutes, but eventually, Amanda returned and set down a box and a container in front of her.

"What's this?"

"Chicken nuggets and fries." She responded, sliding another thing towards her. "This is ranch, you can dip your nuggets in it."

She tried the food, her eyes lighting up. Amanda smiled as she dug into her own food, "So you like it?" Dawn excitedly nodded, feverishly grinning.

"How do you always seem to know what I'll like?"

"I just treat you like a toddler. We'll work on expanding your palette later."

Dawn nodded, pretending to understand what she was referencing. If she treated her like a toddler, did that mean she cared for her in a motherly sense? Maybe, but it seemed unlikely. Amanda didn't seem to have any motherly instincts, or really any strong survival instincts if she thought about it.

They finished eating and linked hands again as Amanda led her around the mall, down the seemingly never-ending corridors. Stores were crammed into every space possible, some filled with clothes, some filled with food, and some filled with novelty items- Dawn found them all fascinating, but none in particular caught her eye. They move up a floor, and the same thing- nothing in particular catches her interest. She goes into a few stores, but it all seems too...boring. She almost gives up hope on finding something she'll like.

That is until they hit the fourth floor.

"Whoa...what is that place?" She stops in place, staring up at the store in front of her.

"Hot Topic? Do you wanna go in?"

She nodded, still looking in wonder at the store. They stepped inside, the store was dark and edgy, music blaring from the speakers and clothes lined the walls. They had a mix of dark and muted clothes and bright ones- it was perfect. Dawn picked up a sweater, holding it in her hands and feeling the soft material.

"Do you want it?" Amanda piped up, leaning over her shoulder. Dawn nodded, still looking over it in awe. Amanda gestured to hand the sweater to her which Dawn complied with. She asked her what kind of fit she wanted, oversized or a proper fit, and helped her pick out the right size. They repeated this process, Dawn picking out things that interested her and Amanda helping her find the correct sizing. She ended up with a mixture of darker and more colorful clothes, some skirts, and a few pairs of tights.

It was an hour or so later when they exited the store, Amanda carrying a majority of their bags. They continued to walk around, stopping at a few more stores to pick up some shoes and other items for her. They ended up back in the food court two hours later, slumped at a table, and finally finished.

"So...how did you afford all this? If you don't mind me asking. I assume this stuff is expensive, right?" Dawn piped up, looking at Amanda.

"Oh, I didn't. Sapphira did- she said I could borrow her card and pay her back."

"Sapphira? The same one who gave me the phone?"

Amanda nodded, "Same one- she's a good friend, you'll probably meet her sometime soon. We hang out a lot."

"What does she do? I mean she must make a lot of money."

Amanda shrugged. "None of us really know. We know she's involved in a lot of stuff, but we don't know why. She's a bit mysterious."

Dawn simply nodded, stretching in her chair. Amanda was looking around the court when her eyes lit up, suddenly standing up. "Wait here- I want you to try something. I'll be right back!" She watched as Amanda disappeared into the crowd of people, sitting there a bit confused. She fiddled a bit with her phone, still trying to get used to it.

Soon enough Amanda came back, two brown drinks in her hand. She pushed one of them toward Dawn as she sat down opposite of her. "Try it, I think you'll like it!"

Dawn took the cup from her, gingerly taking a sip. It tasted...sweet. Very sweet, but very good.

"What is this?"

"Brown sugar milk tea with boba pearls." Amanda grinned, sipping her own drink. "It's good, right? Oh, chew the pearls by the way. Don't choke." She softly laughed, Dawn soon learned what she meant when one of the pearls came up the straw. It was such a strange texture...so chewy...it was odd, but she liked it.

"It's certainly interesting...we don't have anything like this on my planet."

"It's gotten pretty popular here recently, so I'm not surprised. I'm glad you like it though. Do you guys have malls on your planet?"

Dawn shook her head. "Not really. Most of our shopping is done...well, I guess the equivalent would be online for you all. We order things and it sort of just...materializes."

"Whoa...that sounds handy. Wish we had something like that."

She shrugged, "I don't know. I like the socialization of it all. On my planet, we don't really go out much. Public places often serve one purpose, you don't go there to hang out, you know? It's much more formal."

"So...how do you hang out with your friends?"

"Honestly it's not super common. It's mostly just communicating, you don't usually regularly see people unless it's a partner or your family. That's why Jay is my closest friend, they're my cousin. Maybe I'll invite them down here when I get things set up...I'm sure they'd love it here."

Amanda frowned. "That's kind of sad. I couldn't imagine not hanging out with my friends."

"Yeah, that's why I'm so intrigued by Earth and humans. I wondered what it was like and honestly...I agree with you. It's so much more fun to go out for things. I used to only go out to go to school."

"Well, I'll just have to bring you along with me. Show you all the fun stuff we've got here." Amanda smiled, causing her to smile that as well. "I'll hold you to that."

-

The subway was much more calm on the ride back, Dawn's head on Amanda's shoulder and the bags strewn between their legs. Amanda's music softly played through the earbuds, the sound almost lulling Dawn to sleep. The exhaust from the day began to hit her, and Amanda had to practically tug her along back to the apartment.

"Don't go limp on me now, we're almost back!" She laughed, Dawn groaning in reply. They eventually made it home, the last thing Dawn remembered was napping on the couch while Amanda made dinner in the kitchen.

[labselkie]

part two agatha drabble is real. right now. watch out

i don’t have any more words. agatha gets pretty privileges for her evil shit, why else would marie stick around?!!

“Welcome! To the one place miss Maximoff won’t be able to touch,” Agatha descended to her basement with all the pride of an evil queen. One arm extended in front of her in a gracious gesture while the other was hooked around one of Marie’s. The young lady had been freed from the spell for quite some time, her true form finally revealed with the grand wings sprouted from her back. Slate blue feathers littered the steps behind them.

It was the 80s, sometime in the decade that no one could pin down. Color finally returned to Westview, albeit a bit too saturated. The basement was the one place that wasn’t changed, like ancient ruins finally unearthed, built around stone columns uncharacteristic to the sweet suburban charm of her false home. Alcoves were cemented into the ragged walls, framed with thick roots and filled with candles and cursed artifacts. Other than the thin rays of sunlight shining from an unseen window, a faint purple glowed from odd runes carved in the circular ceiling.

Agatha had seen through the spell since the start, but she’s finally got someone else in her home freed from the hex. When she reaches the bottom step, she wrangles the mutant forward and shoves her in. Marie’s wings flare out, buffering her face forward fall as they flap fruitlessly. Agatha just steps around her, withdrawing her hands and slamming the door atop the stairs shut as Marie landed with a thud.

“Whoops!“ The witch giggles as she steps around the slowly recovering Marie, “Now, don’t touch anything, we don’t need you getting any more roughed up.”

Marie’s wings rose first, twitching some as she huffed and crawled to stand. The backless dress she was given ripped at its bottom from her tumble. Agatha just walked right past, eyes set on a heavily bound book. When the mutant finally rises, she spins on her toes to face her.

“Since when was this-“ Marie began to speak after helping herself get up with one of the stone pillars, but Agatha cuts her off.

“Mmh at least five of your lifetimes,” The witch chuckles, her fingers brushing past the aged, almost yellowed pages of her odd spell book. Small sparks rose from her touch, before the pages flickered into flames, causing Marie to jolt up and hold onto a nearby vine that crept up the stone. “Just kidding! I only fixed the place up once I got here, isn’t it cute?”

The mutant steps forward wearily, the dark tips of her wings gently dragging across the stoney floor. Agatha just smiles, beckoning Marie forward with one hand as the Darkhold’s violet flame crawls up her arm and billows with its smoke.

“I’ve been up there this whole time.. Why haven’t you shown me this?” Marie mutters her question, worried that a loud tone may upset the witch.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you yet! Like I said, I don’t need you touching anything.”

At the faintest flick of her wrist, the smoke bursts to the ceiling, dimming to more of a mist. Even with a majority rising, much of it shifts to a faint lavender and creeps over Agatha’s shoulders.

“But you’ve helped me so, so much, dear,” The witch adds when Marie steps up, just within arms reach, “And I think you deserved this!”

Agatha’s hand was still outstretched, so when the mutant reached to take it, she grinned. Marie was free to leave, to go back to that perfect little life she had in Westview, but she kept sticking around. She had a new excuse every day: from “But I’d lose my mutation out there!” to “You’re better than those people.” Agatha didn’t mind, she didn’t even have a say in those excuses, Marie’s presence only helped her little guise. When that trembling, clawed hand took hers, the mist sparked back to life, its lavender strands becoming deeper violets. It even shifts in Agatha’s eyes, once a mesmerizing brown, now a striking maroon tinged with purple.

Marie’s own gold eyes widened, her brows furrowing as her wings tensed. Her hand is tugged forward, like a lover being ushered for a dance. She has to hold her wings shut so they don’t brush the book’s glowing pages. Agatha holds the small of Marie’s back with the hand enveloped in soft smoke, her other still being held, as if they were waltzing. Marie lifted her free hand, too nervous to touch any part of the witch, a noticeable reaction that made the other woman chuckle.

The mist slowly rose, around the base of the mutant’s wings and just grazing her back. She could barely feel it, shuddering slightly, before it reached like a hand through her hair and around her throat. Agatha took a step back, drawing Marie in with her, before spinning in a flourish. “Oh.. Isn’t this just wonderful!”

“What- What even is that book-“

“Don’t fret, dear, it’s just some spells!” Agatha took a flourishing spin, bringing Marie closer to the book, but with her back turned to it. The book’s runes still glowed, and the smoke that had snuck around Marie’s neck seemed to connect back to its source.

She feels herself be pulled back, squeaking faintly before Agatha dips her in their dance as to not make her choke. Her hair falls back, and the witch’s falls forward like a curtain over their close faces. Her wings sweep the floor, falling weaker from their original tense closure. Marie can’t see it, but the Darkhold was reacting to her presence, it ever so slightly pulled her in, a hook to a fish. The mist looked like it wouldn’t even be tangible, but there it was, holding around her throat and even under her hair. It glowed a bit more, her only clue being the reflection in the witch’s eyes.

“Juuuust some spells,” Agatha croons, her voice dipping just like they had in their dance. A step forward, one last step, and Marie’s back is up against the cold stone wall. Her head is just over the open pages, and she can feel an intense warmth from them. The whole page seemed to be glowing purple now, and the smoke constricted even more- Or that was just Agatha’s hands tightening.

Marie held back a small whine, before slamming her eyes shut and almost feeling her foot slip out from below her. She finally lets her eyes open when she feels her hair brush against the book below her, and the first thing she’s met with is the witch’s cunning smile.

“Scaredy cat…” Agatha mutters, looking down her nose at the mutant she held. There’s another little tug from the book, like it was trying to envelop her in its power. The smoke was beginning to shift, from black with a few sparks to an almost overwhelming iris. Marie tried to look to her side, but when that failed, she made eye contact with the witch.

“There we go!”

That was a grave mistake. One last tug from the mist around her throat, and it’s like something snapped inside of her. Her breath caught, her wings fell limp and her hands weakened. The same mist that surrounded her throat burst from the book, grasping onto her shoulders and wings like hands. Agatha doesn’t let up her hold, though. She lets go of Marie’s hand, which falls to her side, and holds the back of her head, where the mist hadn’t touched. That same color grew in Marie’s gaze, shifting that sharp yellow to an almost ashy pink as the colors mixed. A gentle haze rises over her thoughts, dimming them with an overwhelming warmth- Just for a moment.

The mist draws back in the mist, practically sucking it back into its ink. It lets Agatha pull her mutant back up, letting her falter forward and lean on her. Marie’s eyes gently shut, her wings still twitching faintly. It was an odd spell, the subject nearest to the book would have a piece of its magic intertwined with their soul. It would end up helping Marie, but until then, it benefit Agatha, making the mutant just a bit more susceptible to any magic.

“Atta girl. That wasn’t so bad, was it..?”

[carriehobbs]

I saw you tagged Ellery Wiseman on that poem and am dropping into your inbox to ask for anything you'd like to share about your Button!! (Do you have more than one? Who do they romance? How is their relationship with Nick?) -wayhavenots

omg pd tysm for asking!! 💕💕 there is absolutely nothing in the world i love more than having an excuse to talk about my ocs

i (with some rare exceptions) am the kind of if player that makes a new oc for every romance route i play, so i actually have 5 buttons 🫣 (technically 6, rip elliot wiseman who was from my very first mind blind playthrough, when i just wanted to see if i liked the game. you were very depressed and never became a fully-realized button, but your sacrifice is remembered and your name is retired out of respect). i have a page with very, very brief details on my buttons (and also my detectives for wayhaven) and links to their tags here, but if you use tumblr mobile you've probably never had the opportunity to see it.

this got so very, very long, so the rest is under the cut

my 5 buttons are: ella, ellie, elle, ellis, and ellery (can you guess what naming convention i lifted from the game's default names? lol). what's universally true for all 5 of them (though with some nuance, they all have slightly different feelings about their relationships) is that they're as close as they can be with their parents (because i like john and hope as characters and i find "i really love these people but our relationship became incredibly complicated and we now have to find ways to reconcile our disappointment/anger/etc. with our love for them" to be really compelling. i love mess) and with nick (because i'm a middle child and i accidentally projected my feelings about my siblings (and especially my older sister) onto the button&nick relationship. i physically can't be mean to nick because i cried for about 45 minutes the first time i read the end of chapter 3/chapter 4 and for the first time really considered my sister's mortality, and that changes you).

for a (not really that brief, whoops) rundown of my buttons' whole deals:

ella: equally humorous and confident, very high insightful stat, romancing ambrose. she's independent, intelligent, ambitious, loyal, great at compartmentalizing, and, quite frankly, arrogant. she can be really abrasive sometimes (while she can be a kind and compassionate person, most people don't get to see that side of her and so she can come off as really rather unpleasant - think that know-it-all kid in your class that everyone kind of hates). ella naturally is rather funny/confident/intelligent/etc., but i think, after the incident with hope, she ended up amplifying these inherent traits of hers and making them into a sort of armour that keeps her safe, but also isolates her. i think she's afraid of showing weakness and i think she feels this subconscious need to prove to everyone (including herself) that she's capable. her relationship with nick is the worst out of all of my buttons (but is still incredibly high, think 160/170-ish approval), mainly because she and nick clash the most. she's very independent and knows what she wants and will pursue it (even if it's a boyfriend her brother doesn't like or a career her parents don't want for her) no matter what anyone else thinks, and nick can be a little hover-y (though this improves over the events of the game). she does really love nick (and does actually care about his approval, even if it won't stop her from doing things she knows he won't like), even if she finds him kind of annoying sometimes. she views the incident with hope as a horrible accident that wasn't anyone's fault, and i think she sees better than my other buttons how everyone in the family was affected by the fallout. fun fact: several years post-game, she and ambrose have identical twin girls (ella jokes that she wanted two kids so she and ambrose had twins because "we're efficient". they have girls because ambrose is a girl dad. i am not accepting notes) that share a birthday with nick (because i need ambrose to be forced to participate in a large yearly party that at least partially involves celebrating nick. do you know how many years nick rented a bouncy castle and then proceeded to bounce on the bouncy castle with the girls? it's every year until they decided they're too cool for it. nick's heart broke that day)

eleanor/ellie: more humorous than confident (with confident stat increasing through the game), but has a decent morbid stat too, very high insightful stat, romancing grayson. ellie fulfills my need in every if game/rpg i play to have at least one character who is so, so nice to everyone (my detective alina fulfills this need in wayhaven). she's kind, considerate, forgiving, has a strong sense of morals (except at work, where she's very expedient), and tends to blame herself when things go wrong. she really feels just unbearably guilty about most things: the incident with hope (if she'd acted differently, if she'd been different, etc., maybe it wouldn't have happened), nick's accident in chapter 3, nick having to take care of her through high school... she really struggled after the incident with hope because she needed nick and depended on him so much, but then hated herself for how much she needed him and feeling like she ruined his life (she did project this onto gray when he started hanging around, which is why she didn't like him at first, but over time she realized it wasn't his fault and moved on. and then she got goopy feelings for him). she's not blind to nick's faults, but she adores him (200 approval easily). i think a lot of her growth over the course of the game comes from learning to trust herself and to believe in herself. fun fact: she once made a joke to gray after they started dating (in front of nick and sally too 😬) without thinking about how there'd be "no kids or dog until we have a house". it was way too early in the relationship to be making a joke about having kids or a house. they didn't even live together yet. she's still a little mortified that she said that

elle: confident, very high insightful stat, romancing kent. i love elle because she's kind of relentlessly forward-thinking. she doesn't really dwell on the past except to figure out how to improve the future. she believes strongly that it's what someone does that matters. she's my button who's the most interested in trying to get herself into the npo program. like ella, i think she views the incident with hope as a horrible accident that isn't really anyone's fault, and i think she really makes an effort not to dwell on it or assign blame for what happened. she also has terminal foot-in-mouth disease (talking about bondage with kent in front of your brother, best friend, and instructor after revealing that you'll probably get tortured together, anyone?), which is the bane of her existence. while i think all my buttons struggled with some agoraphobia post-the incident with hope, i think elle really struggled with it: she loves dogs and used to volunteer at an animal shelter, but had to stop because she couldn't handle being outside of her home without sally or nick (she could go to school if she spent the entire day with sally, and then would go straight home) and it took several months for her to feel like she could go places without one or both of them again. once she was able to leave her home independently, she started volunteering at the animal shelter again, and is still there. fun fact: post-game and further into their relationship, she ends up accidentally moving in with kent. it starts by just spending a lot of time at his place because it's so close to nick's (i think a lot of her and kent's dates just involve hanging out together), then more and more of her stuff migrates over, until one day she realizes she's been there for two weeks and all of her clothes are in kent's laundry. she formally moves in after that. she's also my button who's most likely to elope!

ellis: humorous-morbid (slightly more morbid than humorous), tentatively more innovative than insightful (i keep swapping the stats), romancing sally. he's "just some guy" (affectionate) to me, if "just some guy" had gallows' humour. he's been kind of desperately in love with sally since he was 13 and figured out what love was. ellis is the kind of person who looks fine on the surface but really isn't. whereas elle doesn't dwell on the incident with hope because she wants to move forward with her life and not have this one event define her, ellis doesn't dwell on it because doing so will wreck him. he was the closest with hope growing up, since they shared a sense of humour and he felt that she really understood him, and it profoundly hurt when she started to pull away as he got older. he trusted her more than anyone growing up and it hurts a lot now to think about how the people he relies on most now are nick and sally instead. he's not as forward about the guilt he feels and how it affects him as ellie or ellery are, but it's still there. he's also very close with nick and really admires him: nick is ellis's model for what it means to "be a man" (more so than john, but i don't think ellis is really aware of this). ellis also views gray as a sort of quasi-older brother figure and is actually more likely to ask gray for relationship or life advice than nick (mainly because he'd feel a little awkward talking to nick about stuff like relationship advice - also look at nick's relationship track record, gray's probably the safer bet). fun fact: ellis is either the same height as nick or one inch shorter than nick (i can never remember), so if they're out together and the topic of height comes up, he tells people that he's at least two inches shorter than he actually is. this is because nick will lie about his height to make himself taller if given the chance, so ellis gets there first and forces nick to be 5ft9 for an evening (nick hates this).

ellery: humorous, higher insightful stat than interpersonal stat, romancing (m!)glitch. she's such a smartass. she's all jokes and has a quip ready for any situation, but, like ella, i think these are inherent characteristics of hers that get amplified as a defense mechanism. i think it's in chapter 1 of the demo that there's the line that says it's better to have people laughing with you than at you, and that really fits ellery. ellery blames herself for really everything to do with hope and nick, but if she brushes it off with a joke she can pretend to be fine (she's incredibly not - her guilt defines a lot of her relationships with other people and how she views herself). she's also incredibly devoted to her family (to the point where she can't listen to someone criticize them professionally because like. that's her dad. this sometimes causes issues in her and glitch's relationship, because glitch is unafraid to criticize unity when appropriate, but they figure out how to manage it over time). speaking of glitch: she is such a loverrrrrrr 💕💕💕 they really are intolerable together because they're that couple that's just all over each other. everyone around them hopes they'll tone it down after the honeymoon stage ends but they do not 💕 i imagine them moving in together incredibly quickly too. i don't know the exact timeline of the game so far, but even this early on, ellery knows that he's it for her. ellery makes me think the most about what it would actually be like to not only grow up with people who are able to hear your every thought but to never live with someone who can't read your mind. i always imagine ellery as being very comfortable communicating telepathically when she chooses to (she almost got held back from preschool because she didn't speak until she was 3/4 - not because she had speech or language delays, but because why would she speak out loud when she could communicate telepathically? eventually telepathic communication had to be (temporarily) banned in the house to get ellery to speak verbally, and once she did the ban was lifted). telepathic communication also means an entirely different way of communicating between people: visual jokes, jokes where the comedy isn't in the punchline but in the way the joke is constructed before it's been told, being able to rely on the person you're talking to picking up subtleties from your thoughts if you're having trouble expressing yourself in words, etc. and glitch is the first person she's ever lived with who can't read her mind (sometimes she'll be in another room half way through a conversation with glitch in her head and she'll ask him for his opinion on something she thought, only for him to have to remind her that he cannot hear her. luckily glitch finds this funny when it happens and lightly ribs her about it). she gets incredibly frustrated with herself sometimes because she doesn't know how to explain to him how much he means to her or how much she loves him. she tries, but she never feels like it really encompasses the depth of the feeling (it's the one time she wishes he was a ment, so he could hear it). fun fact: about a year into their relationship, ellery wrote glitch a really bad love poem to try and express her feelings for glitch in a way that's meaningful to him. glitch loved it and insisted that it was beautiful, but she thinks it's amateur and is kind of embarrassed about it because he quotes actual love poetry to her all the time. this poem does actually exist because i wrote it to try and get in her head space and figure out what she'd say, and it's mid at best (i am not a poet)

[danganrhys]

fanart for a scene in Paranormal Activity by sweezey the fic is so good yall please read it

fem komahina designs created by cmykeyz, (1)(2)

background images are free-to-use photos, (1)(2)

PROCESS BELOW

v

first sketch, done a few months ago

first rough sketch, struggled a lot with drawing hajime's ponytail as in cmykeyz' original designs so i used a shorter hairstyle (also based on one of their designs whoops...)

lineart... ignore me forgetting to hide the sketch in the last panel. also yes i used real life footage of me kicking my wall as a reference image

shading! fun fact, i have never made a comic page before so i was at a loss as to how to make the squares in a program like paint tool sai which isn't amazing with making lined shapes. so i just created the outline of the squares and put it over top of the entire drawing to separate the panels. also i just realized i forgot to add the action lines shown in the sketch to represent hajime spinning around... rip

and here is the first draft of the final product, I added komaeda's silhouette to the first panel because it wasn't clear enough what was going on. i decided to use photos for the background because i honestly didn't even know how to begin tackling them. they're not really accurate for the setting but the colors look somewhat cohesive so i don't really care :] also komaeda is supposed to look somewhat sarcastic in the last panel but im not sure it got across well... and the flushing on hajime is supposed to be mostly from alcohol. this took me a little over 4 hours to complete

real life footage of me drawing this (real) (not clickbait) (cryptid sighting)

[robinyourcreator]

@defira85 thank u for infecting me w the durge disease but also curse you

behold: a small feral creature beginning to learn that being a lap cat kind of rules, actually

There is an all-consuming void where you once were. A hunger, deep and ravenous and sitting cold and sharp in the pit of your belly like a knife. This is all you know, as the ship crumbles and smolders all around you, as you fall out of your shattered pod onto your hands and knees, cutting your palms on crushed glass and weak as a newborn kitten. 

Every inch of you aches, joints and bones stiff and creaking as if you haven’t moved in an age. Maybe you haven’t. Who knows how long you were in that pod. All you know is that the scent of blood, even your own blood, causes your head to pound, the cold knife of hunger in your belly suddenly ripping through you a thousand fold.

With pain comes clarity; the blood has stoked your hunger. You must feed it or the unthinkable will occur. You must find some other creature’s blood to spill before you begin to cannibalize yourself.

And you are not alone in this room. A young woman has also been freed from her pod by this freak dragon attack, a wood half-elf with a deep brown, freckled complexion and hair nearly as red as the blood pooling in the lines of your palms. She hasn’t noticed you yet; she’s too busy patting herself down, checking for injuries.

Easy prey.

By some small miracle, you’ve been left with a dagger, still sheathed at your belt. Whoever took you to this terrible place, they thought so little of you as to underestimate you. You will find who did this. And they will not live long enough to regret it. 

But first you have to slake the hunger. You’ll circle around just out of her line of sight and creep up behind her. It takes very little effort to end a life. In the span of a heartbeat you can have seized her by the hair and slit her throat in the same motion. 

It will be quick.  It will be…

Merciful.

The silhouette of an almost-there memory bubbles up then, like a great leviathan skimming below the surface of black water. You were called ‘merciful’ once. 

Merciful Alde. 

You were called it with scorn. No matter; once you’re off this gods-forsaken ship, you can find whoever called you that and kill them, too. But first you’ll have to feed.

You slowly begin to pull yourself to your feet, lifting yourself off your hands and knees and--

Glass crunches under your boot.

The half-elf finally turns to you, ears twitching and luminous green eyes widening. You know that look, you remember the shape of that look, well worn within the pages of your life. You are deeply unsettling for most to look upon-- corpse-pale and big, wet eyes clouded like a blind man’s, your face too round, too youthful for a human of your years. But it hardly matters. You don’t like looking upon their eyes, either.

“...Gods, they took children, too?” the half-elf gasps in horror, and a familiar indignation rises within you.

“I am twenty six,” you snap before you can stop yourself, and strange as it is, you know it to be true: speaking it aloud has returned the memory of it to you.

…Gods damn it. She knows you’re here now, and you’re still clumsy as a bedridden invalid. How are you going to kill her now?

The half-elf grimaces. It’s easier to look at her mouth than at her eyes. “...Whoops. Sorry, my bad. Must be tough for you, having one of those faces.”

…Her voice is pretty. Maybe the prettiest you’ve ever heard. Certainly the prettiest you ever remember hearing. It’s measured. Mellifluous. That’s a good word for it. You like that word.

…The half-elf has crossed the room to you in the span of you having that thought. She’s fast. Gods damned wood elves. She’s crossed the room, and now she’s crouched down beside you, a hand on your arm. 

Not-- not grabbing you, or restraining you, or hauling you to your feet, but just… resting there. A warm, comforting weight. A reassurance. To a stranger.

To a stranger who was planning to kill her.

“Are you hurt? Can you stand? I can heal you if you need it, but we need to get out of here while we still can.”

“No, no I--” you begin, and your voice cracks as you raise a hand to push her away. You’re so hoarse, you notice now that your indignation has worn off, that your throat is dry and ripped and raw, like you’ve been gargling sand. …Or screaming. One’s certainly more likely than the other.

The half-elf catches your hand and hisses in sympathy. “Oof, those cuts look nasty. Hold on, the glass should pop out when I--” 

She sings a soft, wordless melody. It’s only a few notes; it doesn’t take her more than a second, two at most. It’s still the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard in your life. And you thought her voice was pretty before…

You barely even notice the electric tingling in your palms as she heals you. 

She pats you on the shoulder. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? I’m Adana, by the way.”

“...Alde,” you offer, almost against your will. 

“‘Alde?’ I like that. Well, come on now, Alde. We need to get going. I’m going to be your buddy at least until we’re out of this mess. Can you stand? Better yet, Alde, do you know how to use that knife at your belt?” 

“...I can. And I do,” you find yourself answering again, utterly dumbfounded by this strange creature who seems to have… adopted you on the spot. You were supposed to kill her. But instead the hunger is gone; it’s died down to but a whisper, easily drowned out by that soft, soothing voice. 

She’s not just adopted you on the spot; she’s domesticated you.

“Wonderful!” Adana says brightly. “It’s been a while since I’ve had to use this thing,” she gestures to the rapier hanging from her waist, “But I still remember my fencing lessons. My teacher was a real slavedriver; not the sort of woman whose lessons you forget.” 

She flashes a grin at you. “We may just get out of this alive yet.”

…You will. You are going to ensure it.