#you could have simply chosen a different character to write about buddy

[lesbienneanarchiste]

Heartbreaking! The long fanfic series that sounds on the surface like something I would like ooc's their characters so badly they're unrecognizable!

[in1-nutshell]

Hi! Subscribed to you for quite a while. You have a very cool writing style! Read a lot of posts and decided to request too)))

Okay, how about Buddy's Bot with the Russian greyhound altmode? It's a breed of hunting dogs that run really fast. Imagine what Buddy's character would be like! Energetic, restless, almost as fast as Blurr, cheerful, but can be serious if necessary. Oh, don't forget their very sharp nose! Maybe during the great war they were a scout that no one could catch?

How would the TFA Autobots react?

PS: Take care of yourself and don't overwork))) Sorry for my mistakes, English is not my native language, hehe)

This is something new, I welcome the challenge!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy with a Russian Greyhound alt mode with Team Prime

SFW, Platonic, Cybertronain reader

TFA

Buddy had chosen a peculiar mode of transportation when they arrived on Earth.

To be fair they thought the greyhound was a mode of transportation and not an organic pet.

When they were offered the option to change alt modes they declined.

They had grown rather fond of this alt mode.

Buddy was happy to get an alt mode that was different than the others, it made them stand out more and they liked that.

This form was fast, perfect for their speedster form.

The nose certainly took a while to get used to, but their new frame worked perfectly with their restless pedes.

Team that tries to calm the bot down a bit

These bots want Buddy to slow down a bit. Not permanently but enough to listen to instructions better and to take breaks. They understood that Buddy was rather energetic, but it was also important to take breaks every now and then. On the plus side, they get along great with Blurr. Though they do warn Buddy about teaming up with Blurr. As much as they want to catch the bad guys, they also don’t want the streets to get too damaged by their pedes or for their pedes to get damaged by something in the way.

Optimus

Prowl

Ratchet

Team that likes having an energetic team mate

These bots find their new team member to be a great addition. They can certainly keep up with the faster villains. Meaning Bumblebee would have back up now instead of trying to take them on his own. Their cheerful attitude is something they certainly love about this bot. they aren’t too serious about everything and can take a joke. Buddy is often used as a Blurr translator whenever he comes around the Plant. How does Budy know what Blurr is saying? There are many theories, but none have been tested out.

Bumblebee

Bulkhead

Sari

Team that wants to race the bot

These bots want to race Buddy all the time. Since Blurr is more focused on doing his undercover work than racing, Buddy is the next best bot to race. They don’t care if Buddy uses their alt mode or not. They just want a race. These bots will twin up with Buddy for speedy combos going up against fast villains or simply getting to a place faster. Will they admit that Buddy is faster than they are? Nope, and they will never do it until they finally beat Buddy in a race.

Bumblebee

Sari

[ailendolin]

List 5 favourite shows (in no particular order) and answer questions accordingly.

The Terror

Hornblower

BBC Ghosts

Yonderland

Black Sails

Who is your favourite character in 2?

Archie

Who is your least favourite character in 1?

Hickey. Seriously, screw the murder rat.

What's your favourite episode of 4?

Oh gods, all of them. Though I am ridiculously in love with the concept of a wizard literally losing his Mojo, so I'm going to with 1x02.

What is your favourite season of 5?

Series 2 because of Thomas Hamilton, my beloved.

What's your favourite relationship in 3?

All the relationships are great but I have a very soft spot for Julian and Mike's arc in series 3 and hope we'll get to see more of their friendship in series 5.

Who is your anti relationship in 2?

I don't know about anti-relationship but I don't really see the appeal of Bush/Hornblower.

How long have you watched 1?

Since the moment it came out. I can't resist a good Age of Sail show, and definitely not one that features Tobias Menzies.

How did you become interested in 3?

I saw a gif of the sunrise scene from series 3 here on tumblr and just knew I had to watch it. I had no idea who these characters were or what the show was about, only recognised Charlotte from Call The Midwife, but I was pretty sure that handsome poet would be my favourite character and that's exactly what happened.

Who is your favourite actor in 4?

Picking just one of the Six Idiots is hard but I'm going to go with Mat just because I think he's absolutely hilarious (and brilliant) when he plays old people and I love the way he talks as Choop.

Which show do you prefer 1, 2 or 5?

While they're all Age of Sail shows, they're completely different from each other and hard to compare. I love that The Terror is based on a real story and makes you fall in love with even the most minor characters (looking at you, Graham Gore). I love that Hornblower is all about the Royal Navy (because screw pirates, I love me some pretty officers) but it's main characters aren't typical heroes. And I love Black Sails because love is at the heart of its story. But if I had to pick one, I'd probably pick The Terror because a) it has fantastic actors, b) one very well-written season that makes it easy to binge and c) a historical context you can't help but want to know more about.

Which show have you seen more episodes of 1 or 3?

Ghosts has more episodes then The Terror on a whole and I've also rewatched it more often. I'm due for another The Terror rewatch, though.

If you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?

Well, I wouldn't mind being Debbie because having an elf and stick for buddies and being able to go through a portal to another world would rock. Not so keen on the Chosen One stuff though, so I'm going to pick Ho-Tan because who wouldn't want to be a scribe and write all day?

How would you kill off your favourite character in 5?

Well, since my favourite character did sort of get killed off and then unburied, the show already did this for me.

Would a 3/4 crossover work?

Oh it certainly would and I've actually written a fic about it - The Wisp.

Pair two characters in 1 that would make an unlikely, but strangely okay couple.

I feel like this would fit all The Terror ships because hey, repressed Navy men in the 19th century. My personal favourite one is Joplittle so I'm going with them. They barely interact with each other in canon which fits the unlikely part of the question but I think they'd be quite good for each other. Poor Ned certainly needs someone to hug him and tell him everything's going to be okay while I think Thomas would have needed Ned's support when Crozier was drying out.

Overall, which show has the better cast, 3 or 5?

The Black of Sails cast is amazing but nothing compares to the Six Idiots who have found each other on a kids' tv show and liked each other so much they started writing their own shows because not working with each other was simply not an option.

Thanks for tagging me @larryrickard!

I'll tag @ginevralinton @magicaltear and @iris-in-the-rain

[reanimatedcourier]

How to Write Indigenous Characters Without Looking like a Jackass:

Update as of December 26th, 2020: I have added a couple new sections about naming and legal terms, as well as a bit of reading on the Cherokee Princess phenomenon.

Boozhoo (hello) Fallout fandom! I'm a card-carrying Anishinaabe delivering this rough guide about writing Indigenous characters because wow, do I see a lot of shit.

Let's get something out of the way first: Fallout's portrayal of Indigenous people is racist. From a vague definition of "tribal" to the claims of them being "savage" and "uncivilized" mirror real-world stereotypes used to dehumanize us. Fallout New Vegas' narrated intro has Ron Perlman saying Mr. House "rehabilitated" tribals to create New Vegas' Three Families. You know. Rehabilitate. As if we are animals. Top it off with an erasure of Indigenous people in the American Southwest and no real tribe names, and you've got some pretty shitty representation. The absence of Native American as a race option in the GECK isn't too great, given that two Native characters are marked "Caucasian" despite being brown. Butch Deloria is a pretty well-known example of this effect. (Addendum: Indigenous people can have any mix of dominant and recessive traits, as well as present different phenotypes. What bothers me is it doesn't accommodate us or mixed people, which is another post entirely.)

As a precautionary warning: this post and the sources linked will discuss racism and genocide. There will also be discussion of multiple kinds of abuse.

Now, your best approach will be to pick a nation or tribe and research them. However, what follows will be general references.

Terms that may come up in your research include Aboriginal/Native Canadian, American Indian/Native American, Inuit, Métis, and Mestizo. The latter two refer to cultural groups created after the discovery of the so-called New World. (Addendum made September 5th, 2020: Mestizo has negative connotations and originally meant "half breed" so stick with referring to your mixed Latine and Indigenous characters as mixed Indigenous or simply by the name of their people [Maya, Nahua].)

As a note, not every mixed person is Métis or Mestizo. If you are, say, Serbian and Anishinaabe, you would be mixed, but not Métis (the big M is important here, as it refers to a specific culture). Even the most liberal definition caps off at French and British ancestry alongside Indigenous (some say Scottish and English). Mestizo works the same, since it refers to descendants of Spanish conquistadors/settlers and Indigenous people.

Trouble figuring out whose land is where? No problem, check out this map.

Drawing

Don't draw us with red skin. It's offensive and stereotypical.

Tutorial for Native Skintones

Tutorial for Mixed Native Skintones

Why Many Natives Have Long Hair (this would technically fit better under another category, but give your Native men long hair!)

If You're Including Traditional Wear, Research! It's Out There

Languages

Remember, there are a variety of languages spoken by Indigenous people today. No two tribes will speak the same language, though there are some that are close and may have loan words from each other (Cree and Anishinaabemowin come to mind). Make sure your Diné (you may know them as Navajo) character doesn't start dropping Cree words.

Here's a Site With a Map and Voice Clips

Here's an Extensive List of Amerindian Languages

Keep in mind there are some sounds that have no direct English equivalents. But while we're at it, remember a lot of us speak English, French, Spanish, or Portuguese. The languages of the countries that colonized us.

Words in Amerindian languages tend to be longer than English ones and are in the format of prefix + verb + suffix to get concepts across. Gaawiin miskwaasinoon is a complete sentence in Anishinaabemowin, for example (it is not red).

Names

Surprisingly, we don't have names like Passing Dawn or Two-Bears-High-Fiving in real life. A lot of us have, for lack of better phrasing, white people names. We may have family traditions of passing a name down from generation to generation (I am the fourth person in my maternal line to have my middle name), but not everyone is going to do that. If you do opt for a name from a specific tribe, make sure you haven't chosen a last name from another tribe.

Baby name sites aren't reliable, because most of the names on there will be made up by people who aren't Indigenous. That site does list some notable exceptions and debunks misconceptions.

Here's a list of last names from the American census.

Indian Names

You may also hear "spirit names" because that's what they are for. You know the sort of mystical nature-related name getting slapped on an Indigenous character? Let's dive into that for a moment.

The concept of a spirit name seems to have gotten mistranslated at some point in time. It is the name Creator calls you throughout all your time both here and in the spirit world. These names are given (note the word usage) to you in a ceremony performed by an elder. This is not done lightly.

A lot of imitations of this end up sounding strange because they don't follow traditional guidelines. (I realize this has spread out of the original circle, but Fallout fans may recall other characters in Honest Hearts and mods that do this. They have really weird and racist results.)

If you're not Indigenous: don't try this. You will be wrong.

Legal Terms

Now, sometimes the legal term (or terms) for a tribe may not be what they refer to themselves as. A really great example of this would be the Oceti Sakowin and "Sioux". How did that happen, you might be wondering. Smoky Mountain News has an article about this word and others, including the history of these terms.

For the most accurate information, you are best off having your character refer to themselves by the name their nation uses outside of legislation. A band name would be pretty good for this (Oglala Lakota, for example). I personally refer to myself by my band.

Cowboys

And something the Fallout New Vegas fans might be interested in, cowboys! Here's a link to a post with several books about Black and Indigenous cowboys in the Wild West.

Representation: Stereotypes and Critical Thought

Now, you'll need to think critically about why you want to write your Indigenous character a certain way. Here is a comprehensive post about stereotypes versus nuance.

Familiarize yourself with tropes. The Magical Indian is a pretty prominent one, with lots of shaman-type characters in movies and television shows. This post touches on its sister tropes (The Magical Asian and The Magical Negro), but is primarily about the latter.

Say you want to write an Indigenous woman. Awesome! Characters I love to see. Just make sure you're aware of the stereotypes surrounding her and other Women of Color.

Word to the wise: do not make your Indigenous character an alcoholic. "What, so they can't even drink?" You might be asking. That is not what I'm saying. There is a pervasive stereotype about Drunk Indians, painting a reaction to trauma as an inherent genetic failing, as stated in this piece about Indigenous social worker Jessica Elm's research. The same goes for drugs. Ellen Deloria is an example of this stereotype.

Familiarize yourself with and avoid the Noble Savage trope. This was used to dehumanize us and paint us as "childlike" for the sake of a plot device. It unfortunately persists today.

Casinos are one of the few ways for tribes to make money so they can build homes and maintain roads. However, some are planning on diversifying into other business ventures.

There's a stereotype where we all live off government handouts. Buddy, some of these long-term boil water advisories have been in place for over twenty years. The funding allocated to us as a percentage is 0.39%: less than half a percent to fight the coronavirus. They don't give us money.

"But what about people claiming to be descended from a Cherokee princess?" Cherokee don't and never had anything resembling princesses. White southerners made that up prior to the Civil War. As the article mentions, they fancied themselves "defending their lands as the Indians did".

Also, don't make your Indigenous character a cannibal. Cannibalism is a serious taboo in a lot of our cultures, particularly northern ones.

Our lands are not cursed. We don't have a litany of curses to cast on white people in found footage films. Seriously. We have better things to be doing. Why on earth would our ancestors be haunting you when they could be with their families? Very egotistical assumption.

Indigenous Ties and Blood Quantum

Blood quantum is a colonial system that was initially designed to "breed out the Indian" in people. To dilute our bloodlines until we assimilated properly into white society. NPR has an article on it here.

However, this isn't how a vast majority of us define our identities. What makes us Indigenous is our connections (or reconnection) to our families, tribes, bands, clans, and communities.

Blood quantum has also historically been used to exclude Black Natives from tribal enrollment, given that it was first based on appearance. So, if you looked Black and not the image of "Indian" the white census taker had in his brain, you were excluded and so were your descendants.

Here are two tumblrs that talk about Black Indigenous issues and their perspectives. They also talk about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people of Australia.

However, if you aren't Indigenous, don't bring up blood quantum. Don't. This is an issue you should not be speaking about.

Cherokee Princess Myth

"Princess" was not a real position in any tribe. The European idea of monarchy did not suddenly manifest somewhere else. The closest probable approximation may have been the daughter of a chief or other politically prominent person. But princess? No.

Here is an article talking about possible origins of this myth. Several things are of note here: women from other tribes may have bee shoved under this label and the idea of a "Cherokee Princess" had been brought up to explain the sudden appearance of a brown-skinned (read: half Black) family member.

For a somewhat more in depth discussion of why, specifically, this myth gets touted around so often, Timeline has this piece.

Religion

Our religions are closed. We are not going to tell you how we worship. Mostly because every little bit we choose to share gets appropriated. Smudging is the most recent example. If you aren't Indigenous, that's smoke cleansing. Smudging is done in a specific way with ceremonies and prayers.

Now, a lot of us were forcibly converted. Every residential school was run by Christians. So plenty of us are Catholic, Baptist, Anglican, Lutheran, etc. Catholicism in Latin America also has influence from the Indigenous religions in that region.

Having your Indigenous character pray or carry rosaries wouldn't be a bad thing, if that religion was important to them. Even if they are atheist, if they lived outside of a reserve or other Indigenous communities, they might have Christian influences due to its domination of the Western world.

Settler Colonialism and the White Savior Trope

Now we've come to our most painful section yet. Fallout unintentionally has an excellent agent of settler-colonialism, in particular the Western Christian European variety, in Caesar's Legion and Joshua Graham.

(Addendum: Honest Hearts is extremely offensive in its portrayal of Indigenous people, and egregiously shows a white man needing to "civilize" tribals and having to teach them basic skills. These skills include cooking, finding safe water, and defending themselves from other tribes.)

Before we dive in, here is a post explaining the concept of cultural Christianity, if you are unfamiliar with it.

We also need to familiarize ourselves with The White Man's Burden. While the poem was written regarding the American-Philippine war, it still captures the attitudes toward Indigenous folks all over the world at the time.

As this article in Teen Vogue points out, white people like to believe they need to save People of Color. You don't need to. People of Color can save themselves.

Now, cultural Christianity isn't alone on this side of the pond. Writer Teju Cole authored a piece on the White Savior Industrial Complex to describe mission trips undertaken by white missionaries to Africa to feed their egos.

Colonialism has always been about the acquisition of wealth. To share a quote from this paper about the ongoing genocide of Indigenous peoples: "Negatively, [settler colonialism] strives for the dissolution of native societies. Positively, it erects a new colonial society on the expropriated land base—as I put it, settler colonizers come to stay: invasion is a structure not an event. In its positive aspect, elimination is an organizing principal of settler-colonial society rather than a one-off (and superseded) occurrence. The positive outcomes of the logic of elimination can include officially encouraged miscegenation, the breaking-down of native title into alienable individual freeholds, native citizenship, child abduction, religious conversion, resocialization in total institutions such as missions or boarding schools, and a whole range of cognate biocultural assimilations. All these strategies, including frontier homicide, are characteristic of settler colonialism. Some of them are more controversial in genocide studies than others." (Positive, here, is referring to "benefits" for the colonizers. Indigenous people don't consider colonization beneficial.)

An example of a non-benefit, the Church Rock disaster had Diné children playing in radioactive water so the company involved could avoid bad publicity.

Moving on, don't sterilize your Indigenous people. Sterilization, particularly when it is done without consent, has long been used as a tool by the white system to prevent "undesirables" (read, People of Color and disabled people) from having children. Somehow, as of 2018, it wasn't officially considered a crime.

The goal of colonization was to eliminate us entirely. Millions died because of exposure to European diseases. Settlers used to and still do separate our children from us for reasons so small as having a dirty dish in the sink. You read that right, a single dirty dish in your kitchen sink was enough to get your children taken and adopted out to white families. This information was told to me by an Indigenous social work student whose name I will keep anonymous.

It wasn't until recently they made amendments to the Indian Act that wouldn't automatically render Indigenous women non-status if they married someone not Indigenous. It also took much too long for Indigenous families to take priority in child placement over white ones. Canada used to adopt Indigenous out to white American families. The source for that statement is further down, but adoption has been used as a tool to destroy cultures.

I am also begging you to cast aside whatever colonialist systems have told you about us. We are alive. People with a past, not people of the past, which was wonderfully said here by Frank Waln.

Topics to Avoid if You Aren't Indigenous

Child Separation. Just don't. We deserve to remain with our families and our communities. Let us stay together and be happy that way.

Assimilation schools. Do not bring up a tool for cultural genocide that has left lasting trauma in our communities.

W/ndigos. I don't care that they're in Fallout 76. They shouldn't be. Besides, you never get them right anyway.

Sk/nwalkers. Absolutely do not. Diné stories are not your playthings either.

I've already talked about drugs and alcohol. Do your research with compassion and empathy in mind. Indigenous people have a lot of pain and generational trauma. You will need to be extremely careful having your Indigenous characters use drugs and alcohol. If your character can be reduced to their (possible) substance abuse issues, you need to step back and rework it. As mentioned in Jessica Elm's research, remember that it isn't inherent to us.

For our final note: remember that we're complex, autonomous human beings. Don't use our deaths to further the stories of your white characters. Don't reduce us to some childlike thing that needs to be raised and civilized by white characters. We interact with society a little differently than you do, but we interact nonetheless.

Meegwetch (thank you) for reading! Remember to do your research and portray us well, but also back off when you are told by an Indigenous person.

This may be updated in the future, it depends on what information I come across or, if other Indigenous people are so inclined, what is added to this post.

[breaddaerb]

do you have a favorite killjoy ship? or a non-romantic dynamic with her that you really like?

[ killjoy headcannons II ]

✎↷: yes, i do! romantic ships wise would be nanobite/sagejoy, but it really depends on the kind of take you get on killjoy. personally, i illustrate killjoy as a very childish and petty character, and she’s still smart to get through things on her own and come up with solutions. in my eyes she seems relatively young, and i try to put that in the best! non-romantic dynamics would be with raze, viper, cypher, brimstone, and reyna.

my top killjoy ship is sage and killjoy. it’s a dabble of shared trauma and simply ‘sage can put down killjoy’s narcissism complex in an instant and shatter her whole career so i’m going to write it’. their dynamic is definitely the softest and most slice-of-life because they’re able to provide for each other and talk it out as baby gays :’D

killjoy’s most angsty moment with sage took place in an icebox mission for the agent yoru, where the german died point blank after providing cover for sage and another agent. at this point, the two of them haven’t met each other personally, but it begins to be after sage resurrects killjoy in pools of blood. super nasty, very trauma, much love.

sage’s pain is something that she knows, when cypher gives her news that the healer has chosen to isolate herself in her room for the time being. the exchange of power in life— sage’s is an eye for an eye, a breath for a death, but killjoy’s is radianite and life. her machines are constantly improving and don’t fully come to a stop at any given point, and while she shouldn’t worry what happens after the rocket rises, killjoy is made to when she discovers the amount of deaths she’s responsible for, all for the sake of kingdom’s radiante supply.

she weighs her values. this harm is not the blood that should be stained on her fingertips, nor the bright teenager who had made the spike without full awareness. but she understands what sage is feeling all for the sake of the matter of life and death, and she chooses to interrupt the healer’s stay in her quarters with a plate of gingerbread cookies and a few teary words. sage needed it; needed someone to listen. killjoy provided.

they dance around each other a lot, and while sage is often rigid and at unease most of the time, killjoy eases it. or not eases it— she brushes over it, brings in her wave of joy and gibberish and guides sage through and allows her a break from her own world and into the engineer’s. it’s why sage knows killjoy best for her unhealthy eating routines and the resistance to going out to exercise, so sage is the one who brings the world down for she and killjoy to share. they’ll both get better, step by step.

their relationship developed way longer into the future, and in between their meeting and then, they’re close friends. sage and killjoy along with cypher make the neat sentinel duo, and i think they’re all good pals! mentioned this once before, but killjoy drags them around as the best friends into virtually everything that she does, and it brings much more chaos into their lives than what they signed up for. this involves one a.m. trips to the local diner and walking around the city after missions, and it brings them together.

sage gave killjoy a spa day. she promised it’d be nothing long, just to get out those knots and everything since the german had been hard at work for days now. she couldn’t say no to the woman (she could be scary, okay?) and it was much rawer than what she thought it’d turn out to be. killjoy showed up to sage’s room, barefaced and hair freshly washed, and sat on the floor between the healer’s legs. a comb gently brushed through her hair, too kind for the taut muscles of killjoy’s body, and sage had breathed one phrase:

“you can relax.” a pause. “you are safe here, always. i promise.”

with intricate braids in her hair, killjoy falls asleep against sage’s knee, and the healer does not move.

viper and killjoy is another story. she is guarded, her against the world, seeking revenge against the ones who have wronged her. viper and killjoy are two different people, and they clash. killjoy comes barging into viper’s lab sometimes, checking in on the serpent, buzzing around and learning all she can about what the woman is researching on. it is a pest in viper’s eyes, but she does not push killjoy out. if she is here for learning, then it does not matter.

and because viper is so estranged from reality, visualized as a cut-throat monster, it takes killjoy’s insistence to get a dent into that barrier. they very much have the possibility of being friends, and killjoy literally takes the death threats as friendly banter. “get out of my lab before i make sure that you don’t wake up tomorrow.” “oh, sabine, that’s so thoughtful of you! you know, i haven’t really been able to sleep well for these past few days, so if you make something, that’d be great! unless that’s a death threat. then, you’re twenty-five years too late on that one, buddy!”

viper calls killjoy maus, or mouse in german. the nickname makes killjoy laugh because one, viper is shorter than her and two, it is a little bit of a pet name for partners. she’s not complaining, though! if viper can talk to her and make some time of day for killjoy, it’s all the reward that she needs. dating would involve viper to include other names, having grown a liking to german ones such as schneke or liebling. it makes her maus’ heart flutter all that more.

reyna and killjoy is a whole other story. this is completely non-romantic, if anything, they hate each other! reyna hates killjoy specifically because she is non-radiant and her machines do harm, and the other is petrified of the mexican. killjoy can snap back easily, but the vampire gets beneath her skin and discomforts her on all levels, so she never usually does. killjoy has fits of rage and pure relapse because of her, and it becomes the thorn in her side.

brimstone and killjoy are father daughter. she mocks him a lot of the time but she’ll never hesitate to compliment him either. “brimstone, that was wonderful!” she’d cheer, and the man would laugh and ruffle her beanie. “hey, kid, not too loud. the others will be jealous.” they fight here and there and always make up for it. killjoy’s dynamic with him is by far the most fun to write, and the chaos that comes from a war criminal and her papa is incredible.

razejoy! i actually don’t need to say much on this one. i have.. tons of writing that involve their shenanigans, mostly from with my reblog writings with @code-name-wraith ! check them out :-)

[thiswasinevitableid]

#7 with Sternclay, for the prompts?

Here you go!  I went NSFW

#7: I’m assigned to write a piece rounding up all the bad press that you, a famous celebrity, have been getting and you show up in my office and demand me to write a retraction and get the ‘real’ story”

Barclay is so excited; he’s going to be spending two weeks on the Dual Mesa set, writing an exclusive behind the scenes story that’s sure to give the magazine a big sales boost. 

“Ah, Barclay, come in.” Ned Chicane, the show’s director, ushers him into his office, “I assume they told you we will be leaving to shoot on location tomorrow?”

“Yes, I, uh, I’m really honored that you chose Q to run your story; your cast is so diverse, it really resonates with our readers.”

Ned waves a hand in faux-humility, “Why create a show with paranormal elements that simply recreates homogeneity? However, my dear boy, you were not chosen by me.”

“I requested it.” Barclay turns as a tall man with dark hair enters the office, and has the sudden urge to hide under the nearest table. The man currently staring him down with bright blue eyes and a mild-yet-clearly displeased expression is Joseph Stern, star of Dual Mesa and subject of a very unflattering article Barclay published a week ago.

“Look, Mr. Stern, I-”

“Quiet.” Stern holds up his hand, “I asked Ned to give Q a boost by granting access to the shoot because I think the magazine does excellent work. I asked for you to give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Your writing is quite good, but clearly your research and fact checking needs some work.”

“Just because you don’t like it-”

“I don’t, but that’s not the issue. You published things that are patently false and easily provable as such. For instance, the claim that I got this role by sleeping with the director has two major flaws; one, Ned is not my type.”

“There’s no accounting for poor taste.” Ned says, clearly unbothered, 

“And two, Mr. Mosche would break my fingers if I tried to fuck his husband.” He points to the corner of the room where a large, tattooed man sits reading.

“Right you are.” He looks up long enough to reply. 

“And anyone on set could have told you that. Whatever your sources were, you didn’t do due diligence. So you’ll be trying again.”

“Look, buddy, where do you get off giving me orders?”

“By being the star they’d have the hardest time killing off.”

“And by raising good points.” Ned stands, “asking for a flat retraction would reflect poorly on the show, as it would look as if we were trying to hide the truth. This allows you to correct misconceptions as well as get exclusive looks at next season.”

“You’re literally a paid actor, how the hell do I know you aren’t faking these two weeks?” 

“You won’t be spending all your time with him; you’ll be interviewing others as well and have opportunities to observe him without him knowing.” Ned pats Barclays shoulder, “but he will be responsible for introducing you to the rest of the cast” 

Barclay glances at Stern, who lifts an eyebrow with a smirk.

“So. Have fun with that!” 

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

The introduction the next day goes as well as trying to light a match in a hurricane. Stern is polite and professional when Barclay arrives, introduces him to the cast and the main crew without mentioning the article. But it’s clear Barclay’s reputation precedes him.

“You really got Joe figured all wrong.” Duck Newton, who plays good-hearted Sheriff Frank Roosevelt on the show, pulls Barclay aside as Stern and co-star Aubrey Little (who plays Lucille, a plucky young woman with a dark past) get ready to shoot. 

“So everyone keeps saying, but I didn’t make that stuff up. It turned up when I researching him.”

“Don’t mean someone else didn’t just pull it out of their ass.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Barclay sighs, rubbing his forehead. 

“Look, all I know is Joe’s been nothin but kind a professional to me. I’d even call him a friend. Know he can come off as intimidatin and rigid sometimes, but he’s a good guy.”

Barclay hears variations of this sentiment over and over during the next two days. It’s part of why he’s currently sitting inside his motel room not far from the main set, eating dinner alone. Indrid, the costume designer had actually invited him to eat with a few members of the crew.  Barclay demurred. If the bulk of the people on set think he’s a jerk, he doubts they’ll be that open to getting to know him. Plus, he’s kind of humiliated at how little actual evidence he can find for the claims against Stern, and doesn’t want to give the other man a chance to gloat. 

There’s a knock on the door, and he opens it to find the last person he expects, or wants, to see. 

“Good evening, Barclay.” Out of costume, Stern almost looks ordinary. There’s still the unfair symmetry of his face, the way he makes jeans and t-shirt look somehow sophisticated. 

“Uh, something you need from me?”

Stern looks past him to his cobbled together dinner; Barclay’s a good cook, but the damn room doesn’t have anything more than a microwave. 

“The chance to buy you an actual dinner.”

Barclay’s about to point out that he’s not eating in the commissary tent because of Stern when the actor adds, “please?”

He grabs his wallet and joins Stern in the still-warm evening air, following him into the few blocks that make up downtown Sagebrush, the former mining town that makes up much of Dual Mesa’s background. He expects them to stop at the Mizpah, the sole fancy hotel and restaurant, but Stern guides him past it and into a kitschy diner. 

They study their menus in silence, the pleather booths squeaking awkwardly whenever one of them moves. 

Barclay orders the burger plate that comes with a slice of pie and Stern, surprisingly goes for an omelette off the all-day breakfast menu.

“Barclay I, well, it’s obvious we got off on the wrong foot. I want you to know that as much as the article upset me, I don’t want you to be miserable while you’re here. No ones going to shun you for what you wrote.”

“Pretty clear they’re all on your side.” Barclay sips his water, meeting Stern’s gaze.

“There don’t need to be sides; you want to write an accurate profile of what it’s like on set, and I want to not have my name dragged through the mud anymore. Those come out to be the same thing.”

“You seem real fucking confident.” Barclay narrows his eyes. 

Stern’s hackles go up, but then he sets his hands on the table with a measured breath, “I don’t pretend to be perfect, Barclay. I’m aware, well aware, of my flaws. But none of those flaws match what you wrote about me. I’m not asking to look untouchable in your piece, I’m asking to look like myself.”

Barclay looks down, spots him nervously shredding his napkin. As he’s thinking, a teenager in a tricolor tank-top approaches the table. 

“Um, sorry, but are you Joseph Stern? The guy who plays agent Hooper?”

Stern smiles, genuine and reassuring, “I am.”

“Could I, uh, get a picture? Like a selfie?” 

“Of course.”

Barclay watches Stern pose with the kid and compliment his pride shirt, before waving goodbye as he scurries back to his table to show his friends the photo.

“That doesn’t bother you?”

Stern shakes his head, “It happens pretty often, especially in town where most people know what I look like in my street clothes, so I’m used to it. Besides, for a lot of these kids there’s more than just the celebrity angle. I can count the number of gay, trans, Asian-american actors on T.V when I was kid with one hand,” He holds up a fist to indicate a zero, “if the price of being that person for kids now is posing for some pictures, I’ll pay it any day.”

Warmth blooms in his chest, the sincerity making him want to trade a truth in return, “Yeah, I remember looking for guys like me and not seeing them. I’d just pick a character I liked and kinda projected. Except the X-Files; then I just had a huge fucking crush on Mulder. Oh, thanks.” He smiles at the waitress as she sets his food down.

“I know that feeling. Somewhere there are pictures of me dressed as him for a Halloween party.”

“Heh, I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in ages.” Barclay munches on a fry, “Last three times I went as Bigfoot. It was an easy costume and kept my face hidden.”

“That’s a shame for the other party-goers.”

Barclay coughs, choking on his fry, as Stern blushes, shoves a piece of toast into his mouth, and changes the topic to books. 

The next day, when Barclay arrives on location and everyone is milling about getting ready to shoot, Stern pats the chair near his own and talks with him until he’s needed on camera. Over the next week, Barclay finds himself next to Stern more often than not, comparing notes on the mystery novels they’ve been passing back and forth, or explaining his job moonlighting as a cookbook editor, or listening to the actor describe his travels to the locations of famous cryptid sightings. What surprises him most is how charming he finds Stern when he’s nowhere near a camera. On set, in character as Special Agent Alex Hooper, he radiates the quiet charm that makes his character so beloved. When they’re alone it’s different, a little less polished and little nerdier, and rather than captivating him it makes Barclay want to protect him.

It turns out that slips of the tongue happen to Stern a lot, at least when he’s around Barclay. “Sec” routinely becomes “sex” and comments about Barclay’s size and strength come often, Stern always sheepish afterwards. As if his attention is something Barclay may not want rather than something he craves like a four-course meal. 

When he starts daydreaming about asking Stern back to his motel room after one of their now-regular dinners together (that Stern always pays for), he knows he’s in trouble. 

“Helllloo?” 

He jumps, chuckles in surprise as Aubrey finishes waving her hand in front of his face, “Sorry, was thinking about dinner.’

“I was saying thanks for coming out while we shoot this. I know how hard it can be to pull away from your ‘muse’.” She wiggles her eyebrows and Barclay feels the blush overrun him. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll let him figure it out on his own.” Aubrey winks, the groans, “aw fuck here he comes.”

Robert Hayes, who plays the recurring role of Hooper’s supervisor, appears in the grove where they’re shooting a scene with just him and Aubrey. Barclay steps out of frame, Aubrey hissing “don’t leave me” as he does.

“I can’t believe Ned is letting Indrid do more alternative looks for you.”

“It works for Lucille.”

“It would work better if she was more conventionally attractive.”

Barclay growls under his breath; how dare this guy talk to his friend that way?

“Well, obviously not, because the audience likes me like this. And they have opinions worth listening too.”

The tension remains throughout the shoot, Barclay tensing every time Hayes opens his mouth. He pretends to be busy when the actor comes over to join him. 

“I’m glad you’re planning on expanding your take-down of Stern.”

“I never said that. I’m writing about the new season of the show.”

“If you want more information about what he’s really like, I’ll be happy to chat with you in private.” The older man pats his shoulder and heads off to his trailer. 

Barclay waits until he’s gone, then goes to look for Ned. He has a hunch the director might like to know about Haye’s offer. 

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

“...guess Ned put him in his place.” Stern finishes adjusting his tie as the scene sets up, “Sounds like he wanted his character to become the eventual lead, and thought shit-talking me would be the way to go.”

“I’m glad it’s sorted out.” Barclay pretends to be studying his notes so he doesn’t stare too noticeably at Stern’s ass.

“Me too. Thanks, Barclay.” Stern steps onto set, and as Ned begins running through the scene with Stern and the actor playing his (unbeknownst to him) alien lover, Bee, Barclay wishes he’d chosen to be elsewhere. Because this is a sex scene. With Stern. That he will be watching. 

No, damn it, he’s a professional. His butt is staying in this chair.

He makes it through the several takes of the dialogue just fine, starts sweating a little when he kissing begins. Stern’s kisses strike a balance between tender and passionate, perfectly in character, and Barclay would give his right arm to trade places with Bee. 

The action moves to the bed, Stern caressing his lover as they unbutton his shirt.

Okay, now he’d give his right arm and leg to be the one beneath him. 

He reminds himself this airs on TNT, not HBO, so it can’t get much more explicit.

Sterns whole body drips with soft dominance as he pins Bee to the bed, cooing that he’s never seen a finer sight.

Fine, his right arm, leg, and any non-vital organs, he’ll trade them all in a second to hear Stern say that to him, even if it’s only pretend. 

He doesn’t make it through the second take of the bed scene, hurries away as quietly as unobtrusively as he can. There’s no way he can make it to his motel like this, cock pressing so hard against his jeans he’s afraid he’ll end up with a zipper mark. And the bathrooms aren’t exactly private. He does have the key to Stern’s trailer, the actor having given it to him in case he needed somewhere air conditioned to rest from the heat. The trailer that is very nearby.

Does he dare?

The question hardly registers before he’s at the door, unlocking it and ducking inside before anyone sees. He leans against the counter with a groan, unzipping his pants and praying the pre-cum that immediately streaks his hand hasn’t made a noticeable spot in the denim. 

He fumbles around to find some tissues, not wanting to face the humiliation of Stern walking in to find him cleaning cum off of his cabinets (he does actually want that humiliation, and badly, but not without Stern’s consent).

The strokes are hard and fast, his eyes shut so tight he sees static as he imagines Stern behind him, saying how much he wants him, how needy he is, how he’ll take care of him. He grits his teeth, breath leaving him in faint hisses and stifled moans until the temptation to say Stern’s name overwhelms him. 

“Joe, Joe, fuck, Joe.”

“Yes, big guy?” A voice purrs in his ear as hands bracket him against the counter. 

“Fuck” He tries to freeze, finds he’s shaking too much from want and worry to do so. 

“You forgot to lock the door, silly boy. I, however, did not.”

“I’m, I’m sorry, I just needed to, fuck, I didn’t mean for you-”

One hand leaves the counter, strokes the base of his neck and toys with his hair, “what about this suggests I’m angry with this, um, development?”

Barclay whimpers, feet unwilling to turn and look Stern in the eye.

“Should I stop?” The tease goes from his voice.

All he can do is whimper again and shake his head.

The hand leaves his neck, slides down Barclay’s arm to rest atop his hand on the counter. The other takes it’s time snaking down his stomach and hips.

“Poor Barclay, no wonder you had to leave.” His hand nudges Barclay’s aside, takes it’s place around his cock, “you can probably see this thing from space. I’m taking this as a testament to my acting skills.” A laugh as he kisses Barclay’s neck, stroking him slowly. 

“Please don’t say this is acting too.” 

“It’s not.” A kiss to his cheek, a twist along his cock, both making him weak-kneed, “do you know what I was thinking about during that scene? I was thinking about you, what you’d look like if I fucked you. It’s only a quirk of anatomy” he grinds against Barclay’s ass,  “that means I didn’t have a noticeable reaction on camera.”

“Fuck, Joe, more, please I need more of you, all of you, I’m so fucking close.”

The hand on his cock pulls away, “not just yet, big guy. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Uhuh.” He whines, pushing his hips forward to bump his cock along Stern’s hand. 

A light smack on the ass, “behave. Take everything off and wait for me on the bed.”

“Uh huh.” He turns, only for a hand to firmly grasp his chin and force him to stay eye to eye with Stern.

“Try that response again, big guy, with better manners.”

“Y-yes, s-sir, I, I understand.” 

He’s yanked into a demanding, possessive kiss, Stern stroking his cheek approvingly when he releases him, “Good boy. Is this alright?”

“Yes, yesyes, Joe, please, I love it, don’t stop.”

“I won’t, unless you say so. Promise you will if you need to?”

“I swear, cross my heart, babe, please.”

A loving laugh, coupled with a peck on the lips, “bed.”

Barclay strips so quickly he loses his balance, landing on the bed as he fights to pull off his pants. He tries to calm himself by folding his clothes and setting them aside, certain that if he gets more excited he’ll become the first confirmed case of human combustion.

“Hands and knees, please.” 

“Oh fuck me.” 

Stern is standing by the bed, naked from the waist down save for a strap-on, but still in his special agent clothes from the waist up. 

“Do you like the suit, big guy?”

“Yessir.”

“Good to know. Maybe next time I’ll wear the whole thing while I fuck you. Now” he climbs onto the bed, “try to relax for me.”

A condom-covered finger presses against his ass as soon as he’s on his hands and knees, Stern working him open efficiently yet gently until he’s begging for more. Stern ruffles his hair, and then the toy is pushing into him. It’s narrow, so the stretch isn’t too bad, and for a moment he wonders if it will even do much for him. 

“Let me see, if I just-”

“FUCKfuck”  The curve of the toy finds his prostate.

“That’s part of why this is a favorite of mine, it’s so effective” he thrusts harder, “at finding the right spots.”

“Mhhhmmmmm” Barclay bites the pillow to muffle his moans and growls, wiggles his hips as Stern finds his pace. 

“The other reason I like it…”

“SHIT, babe, baby, ohfuck that’s good.” The toy vibrates, sending heat all through him, “fuck, I’m gonna come in like th-thirty seconds from that.”

“Thirty seconds? Let’s see if you’re right, big guy.”

“GaaAAHfuck, Joe, yeah, yeahyesbabeyes.” He gives up on being quiet as the actor rams into him, drops to his elbows when the intensity makes it impossible to anything other than moan and and grunt and take it. 

“That’s it, good boy, let’s see just how hard you are for me” Stern pants as he reaches around, teasing the head of Barclay’s cock, “perfect, you’re doing wonderfully, fuck” a groan of gratification as Barclay spurts across the bed, “messy, god I love making you come apart, even I might make you clean that with you tongue later.”

“Oh god.” Barclay moans, drool staining the pillow, as Stern loops an arm tightly around his waist and grinds, the toy still bumping and rumbling inside his ass.

“Nnn, Barclay, yes, hold out just a little longer, let me get off on this perfect ass.”

Barclay whines, sensitivity overloading his circuits and driving him wild.

“Just a little more big guy, fuck, fuck, lord almighty I’m close, c’mon, you can handle it, you can be good and take me as long as I need.”

“Yes, yes, wanna take you, wanna be yours, wanna serve you.”

“Fuck” Stern doubles over, hips working frantically, “that’s it, good boy, if you’re in this bed you, fuck, your only job is to please me.”

“Yes” Barclay sobs just as Stern moans into his shoulder. When he pulls out, Barclay flops, limp, onto his side. 

“You with me, baby?” Stern wiggles out of the harness, lays so they’re face to face and cups Barclay’s cheek.

“Mmhmm. Fuck” he pulls Stern into a hug, “I can’t believe we just did that. That was fucking amazing.”

“Didn’t take you for the sub type.”

“Everyone always wants me to be big ‘n dommy. Don’t wanna. Wanna be someone’s good boy.” He’s slurring, mind still a bit foggy. 

“You can be mine. In, um in not just a sex way, although it can be just a sex thing if you want it to.”

“Nope” He cuddles him closer, then it hits him, “you’re asking me to be your boyfriend?”

“Please?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes” He kisses him after each answer, making them both laugh. 

“It won’t fuck up your work?”

“I’ll ask Mama what she thinks, we might need to transfer the rest of the article to Thacker. Uh, maybe this is silly but, uh, can I take you to dinner? My treat?”

Stern kisses him, stars in his eyes and a hundred watt smile on his face, “that sounds perfect, big guy.”

[thepinkcar]

The TC Gift Exchange

words: 2K

note: I started this a year ago as a joke but then after some thought the idea grew on me. Enjoy my weird brain.

Timothée found himself in an abandoned storage lot, sitting inside his aunt’s Toyota Camry while he tried to push down the impulse to scream. The location had been the address on a note he had received prior. The handwriting was unsettlingly familiar and read:

Honorable Timothée,

It wold be an honor to have your company at the location inscribed on December 31st close to midnight. Please bring a gift to exchange during the celebration. We hope to see you there.

In retrospect, showing up at all had been a grave mistake. He probably wouldn’t have if he hadn’t desperately craved space from the New Years rager. The holiday season had been a well-desired break from the prying eyes of the public. Unfortunately it also meant an unwavering devotion to every friend and family gathering that could be stuffed into his schedule.

So here he was, risking a shoot out (or more likely, stabbing) on New Years Eve. Just as he had resolved to turn around and leave, there was a knock on his car window. A young man with long curly dark hair waved at him to get out and Timothée sighed, quickly complying. The man’s hair obscured his face, but Timothée felt a chill run down his spine once he spoke.

“You’re Timothée, right?” Timmy nodded slowly. “Is that French, ‘cause that’d be hella tight.”

Timothée froze, finally taking in the thick American accent. “Did you just say ‘hella tight’?” he whispered. The man ignored the question, instead turning towards him and offering a hand. Timothée shook it hesitantly as he tried to find the the gall to look up. 

“‘Name’s Kyle. Nice to meet you, Tim-o-tay.” Timmy looked up so fast he was almost surprised not to feel any whiplash. When he saw his own face he screamed. 

“What the fuck! What the fuck is happening? Is this some sick joke?” Timothée screeched. Kyle sighed apathetically, pulling a hand-rolled cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. Timothée continued to stare at him bug-eyed, half expecting him to glitch or evaporate from his vision when he woke up from this nightmare. 

“Dude, chill. It’s not that weird,” Kyle mumbled, taking another hit. Timothée remained frozen and Kyle sighed again. “It’s too fucking cold for this shit. C’mon, we’re going inside and you better have your gift on you.”

Kyle took a step towards Timmy and Timmy flinched. Aggravated, Kyle grabbed Timmy’s forearm and pulled him inside one of the storage buildings.

The inside of the building was surprisingly cozy with the halls decorated vibrantly for Christmas. Soon they arrived in a room occupied by a Christmas tree, cookies, and an ominous circle of chairs. 

“I have him, so we can get this over with and leave!”

“Apathy has and never will be a good look on you, Kyle,” a new voice said. Timothée turned to meet Elio (or him playing Elio) dressed in his winter time outfit. He tried to set aside the creepiness of Elio’s distressed half-smile that he remembered doing during his takes for the end credits. Elio pulled him into an embrace and Timothée suppressed the urge to wriggle. 

“It’s a joy to meet you,” he said warmly before pulling back. “You’re more handsome than I anticipated.”

“How do you manage to be so narcissistic and so self-deprecating in the same sentence?” Kyle growled. Elio rolled his eyes before taking off his headphones and handing Kyle his walkman. Kyle bitterly put it on before continuing to listen to whatever was playing. 

“What’s going on?” Timmy finally mustered, his throat burning from the screaming. 

“We’re calling it the TC Gift Exchange,” Elio stated simply. “Every year, all of the characters you play come together at an undisclosed location and give each other gifts before departing back into our separate universes.”

Timothée stared at Elio in bewilderment before bursting into laughter. Elio watched him in confusion. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Of course! It’s just that my dopplegangers have teamed up to make me feel insane. Excellent work, but I think this can stop now.”

“It’s true,” two voices say. Tim and Elio turn to face a Billy from Miss Stevens and Zac from One and Two. They both have a cookie in hand with same amount of bites taken. Tim gulps.

“Each year, the universe of the most successful part that year is where we host,” Billy explains. “Last year we partied in Crema…”

“The year before that we had to do it in the ass crack of no where,” Zac mutters. 

“Hey! That spot was next to the road that I sang with Miss Stevens in the car on the way to that theatre conference. And you’re being out of character!”

“Well I’m sorry if I’ve been cranky considering my house was burned to bits!” Zac sneers.

“Boys! You’re literally the same persona set in two different storylines. Find your zen,” Elio says, immediately cringing. “I’m starting to sound like Kyle.”

Timothée shakes his head and moves to take a seat in the circle. The others soon follow suit taking their respective seats that are conveniently in chronological order. Timothée takes the opportunity to take in the others (he’s still deciding whether or not to refer to them as individuals) profiles. Elio sat two spaces to the right of him next Kyle and another doppelgänger that Timothée could only assume to be Daniel from Hot Summer Nights based solely off the fact that he wouldn’t stop rocking back and forth.

Billy and Zac buddy up next to one another beside Daniel, followed by an awkward looking Charlie Cooper and roughed up Jace. Timothée cringed at the familiar backwards cap sitting on Jace’s head next to him. He turned to Elio who had busked himself switching the tape out of his Walkman for Kyle. “This isn’t everyone is it?”

Elio raised a brow but didn’t break his focus. “What do you mean? Timothée bit his lip. He didn’t want to come off arrogant, ironically.

“There’s do roles missing from the circle.”

“Not everyone comes every year. Some are on probation,” Kyle said matter-of-factly. Timothée rolled his eyes. He forgot how much of a douche Kyle was meant to be.

“Some aren’t old enough to come, so we mail them their gifts,” Elio finished.

“But how do you send mail to a completely different universe?”

“You’re asking too many questions. Why is he asking so many questions?” Daniel grumbled, crazed eyes now trained on Timothée. Timothée felt his hands clam up more than they already had. 

“Danny, be civil,” Elio warned, giving him a cautious pat on the back. Kyle rolled his eyes.

“We mail them the same way we’re all able to gather with you tonight. Dumbass.” Timmy nodded slowly, surveying the room of doppelgängers. The more he looked at them the less anxious he became about seeing them, which only made him more anxious about how quickly he was acclimating to his Stockholm of a situation.

“What about the ones on—“

“Probation? We try to keep the celebration to main characters only, since we’re not exactly rolling in it, y’know?” Billy quipped, jumping in before Elio had a chance. “Then some people…”

“Nic can’t come because technically he’s a fictionalized real person,” Elio cut in once again, shooting Billy a cool look.

“And he’s a drug addict,” Kyle muttered.

“Recovering addict.”

“What’s the difference? There’s only one guy missing but I don’t really care if he’s here or not. I’m not a big fan of monarchy or oligarchy or government institutions—“

“—or the government?” Timothée cut in knowingly. Kyle smiled.

“See he gets it.”

A crash of metal silences the room’s chatter. After a moment of silence another doppelgänger, this time with a stylish bowl cut appears. Timothée shivers at the memory of his lost locs. Kyle scowls while Elio beams. The others arrange their reactions neatly between the two margins.

“Hello everyone. I hope you can pardon my lateness. I struggled to drag this sorry lot to the TC Exchange,” Hal declared, ceremoniously dragging in Gatsby Welles from the he-who-shall-not-be-named movie about rain. It was Elio’s turn to grimace while Kyle smirked.

“No foul, your highness. Be seated here. As for him…”

“We can’t keep blacklisting him, Elio.”

“His film didn’t even hit theaters! Mine has an Oscar, Kyle. An Oscar!” 

“You mean the award you campaign for?”

“I don’t mind.” The room turned to Timothée who had chosen to slump comfortably in his seat. He decided to sit up for the sake of his point. “I chose to play him. He still means a lot to me.”

“He’s just Kyle wearing a blazer!”

“He’s more complex than that, Elio.”

“No one if knows what he’s supposed to be like because it’s impossible to watch the movie!” Elio whined. Timothée moved to respond when a familiar click is heard from across the room. They froze to face Jace holding his signature hand gun.

“You better shut your ass, Elliot! Just because you like dick doesn’t mean you get to make all the rules. The man of the hour said he wants Gatsby to stay, so Gatsby’s staying!”

“While I try not to condone violence, unless my advisors misadvise me, I have to agree with as the kids might say Soulja Boy over there,” Hal added causing Elio to crumple further into his seat.  Timothée frowned.

“I understand why you’re upset, Elio. He somehow managed to write a poetry collection during this whole exchange. But I still wanna keep him if we’re gonna be here.”

“I’m gonna name this last one after you, Elio,” Gatsby said softly. Elio gives a small smile.

“Okay.”

“Thank god,” Kyle sighed, “Can we get our gifts now? I don’t want to ring in the new decade with you lot.”

❄️❄️❄️

After an hour of mingling with his counterparts, the goodbyes tugged a bit on Timothée’s heart strings. He learned so much about everyone as far as the group dynamic went. He learned Kyle and Elio were actually quite close considering how much they seemed to rag on each other.

“You should have seen him the first year. An antisocial mess,” Elio reminisced fondly.

“That’s before a realized you have taste. I wouldn’t have shown up again if you hadn’t,” Kyle admitted begrudgingly.

Timothée also learned that while most of his characters felt similar, after two minutes of conversation the differences became glaring. Except for Billy and Zac. They were essentially the same person.

“I hope one day I’ll get a box of serotonin for Christmas,” Billy joked. Zac gasped.

“I asked for a bottle of Serotonin for my birthday!”

As Timothée walked back to his Aunt’s Camry with Hal, he couldn’t fight off the smile that kept creeping onto his face. Hal side-eyed him in solent satisfaction.

“Will we be seeing you again next year? I’m sure Elio wouldn’t mind providing free transit to space.”

“I’ll have to think about it,” Timothée chuckled. “This was…nice. Like really nice. It makes me kinda glad to be an actor. In an unnerving way.”

“I couldn’t have asked for better casting. Next year should be nice since Laurie will be able to come. I think him and Elio will get on nicely, then maybe…”

“Then maybe he’ll stop flirting with you? Still not sure how I feel about that,” Timothée mumbled with a shudder. The man really needs his Oliver.

“Don’t worry yourself about it. I only have one thing to request of you good sir.” Timothée raised a brow, trying not to fidget under Hal’s intense gaze. “Please, consider doing a comedic role in the future. We could use someone to shake things up around here.” The two of them smiled before bursting into fits of laughter.

“You’ve got it King!”

“No, you’re the king today. Drive safe and we’ll see you next time.” Hal walked back into the abandoned hall while Timothée sat down in his car and prepared to drive back. Maybe in the morning he’d wake up from a highly elaborate dream, but for now he could hang on to the feeling of gratitude and appreciation.

[introverts01]

Just how to Go From Introvert to Exhibitionist

As a youngster I was very withdrawn, usually spending my time on the computer system, reading, playing video games, or seeking other solo leisure activities. I 'd hang around outdoors biking, exploring the neighboring areas and also hills (which today are filled with homes), or capturing hoops, however I 'd usually favor doing these points alone or with people I recognized extremely well. I never felt as well comfy around strangers, and I never took care of big family members occasions. Psychological examinations like the Myers-Briggs secured me directly as an autist. Any individual who recognized me would have explained me as an autist without a reservation. Like several introverts I was pushed by others to mingle more. Yet I mainly resisted this pressure, partly due to the fact that I enjoyed being an introvert. I typically checked out characters as doing not have in intelligence and depth, and also I can't state I intended to count myself amongst them. However, over a long period of time, I eventually found myself ending up being a growing number of extroverted. I embraced hanging out with other people, headed out of my method to satisfy brand-new individuals, could easily present myself to strangers, and also really enjoyed it. The Myers-Briggs test now identifies me an extrovert To the people that recognize me today, this wouldn't be unexpected. I'm not the sort of extrovert I imagined as a youngster though. I feel I have actually done a good job stabilizing the autist and also extrovert parts of myself, such that I take pleasure in both sorts of tasks similarly. I really feel equally as comfy staying at residence reading a book as I do mosting likely to a brand-new social event and introducing myself to people I have actually never ever fulfilled. I enjoy both group as well as solo tasks, each for different factors. Some weeks I'm even more introverted as well as mostly stay home with my family members. Other weeks I have a full social calendar with an occasion virtually every evening. I enjoy both just as much.

introvert extrovert ambivert definition In order to end up being an exhibitionist, I found that I needed to get rid of a number of blocks to being more extroverted Possibilities are that if you're in the exact same watercraft, you have some of these blocks also. Blocks to becoming an exhibitionist. * Underestimating extroversion. Spending quality time alone as well as with individuals are equally important. If you're extremely shy, you might underestimate the positive role people can play in your life, such as understanding, relationship, development, laughter, and so on. The ideal outcome is to strike a balance between the two. You do not have to give up the autist tasks you enjoy. In fact, when you balance them with more social tasks, you'll most likely find them much more gratifying. After several nights of being around individuals, I really eagerly anticipate an evening by myself to review, practice meditation, write, and so on. And after great deals of time alone or with my family, I'm itching to go out as well as be around other individuals.

hobbies for introverts * Underdeveloped social skills. Social abilities can be discovered like any type of various other skill set. One factor autists shy away from social activities is that they do not feel comfy due to the fact that they don't know what to do, specifically if the unexpected were to occur. Being able to start up a conversation with a complete stranger AND feeling entirely comfortable doing it is a learnable ability. The even more you do it, the better you get at it. Accept the fact that you're a novice, as well as don't contrast yourself to others. * Picturing yourself as the wrong type of exhibitionist. If you locate the extroverted individuals around you superficial and perhaps also frustrating, why would you wish to be more like them? You would not. When I was a child, I really didn't want to be extra like the characters I understood. Also as a grown-up, my vision of a character was an in-your-face salesman that just intended to develop a shallow partnership with you so they might sell you something. It seemed really phony as well as bogus to me. As well as naturally that vision stopped me from ever before wishing to be like that. Yet you needn't pick such a minimal vision for yourself-- you're totally free to develop your own vision of a favorable means to be much more extroverted. * Associating the wrong individuals. Why would you wish to spend more time with people you do not such as? If ending up being much more extroverted means spending even more time with people you prefer to avoid, you'll have no motivation to do it. Once more, you're totally free to damage this pattern as well as create a social team that you 'd like to be a component of. * Overvaluing on-line interacting socially. Online interacting socially has its place in your life, yet it's a pale darkness compared to in person, belly-to-belly interaction. Voice and also body movement can connect a whole lot greater than message, as well as emotional bonds are easier and also faster to establish personally. I feel a lot closer to the neighborhood friends I have actually understood for just a few months than I do to the people I have actually known online for several years yet never ever fulfilled personally. It's just not as fun heading out to supper with a laptop. You don't need to get rid of online socializing, but don't allow it to crowd out conference individuals in your area. If you do that, you'll only cause your social skills to lag even more behind. If you have some of these blocks and intend to surpass them, the very first step is to recognize them as well as consider how they're holding you back. Then start to service them just as you would any type of various other challenge in your life. Focus your purposes, set goals, make strategies, as well as begin acting. It might be uncomfortable and awkward initially, but just approve that, and also obtain relocating anyway. Suggestions for becoming much more extroverted. Right here are some extra recommendations for exactly how to end up being more extroverted: * Envision the sort of exhibitionist you would love to be. What's your optimal outcome? If you feel as well withdrawn and wish to be extra extroverted, start by working with your vision of your end result. Chances are that if you have actually been making little progress in this field, you have a somewhat adverse vision of extroverts. When I developed a positive vision of being an extrovert that consisted of structure real connections with smart individuals I respect (in contrast to arbitrary, shallow interacting socially), I soon began attracting those partnerships. Being a "stupid jock" kind of exhibitionist still has no interest me. * Consider relationships in terms of what you can provide, not in terms of what you can get. If you look for to develop new relationships based on common offering as well as obtaining, you'll have no lack of pals. Recognize individuals with whom you would love to develop a connection, and start by providing. I've discovered that my geeky understanding is actually a significant strength when it comes to interacting socially due to the fact that there are a terrible great deal of non-geeks that had actually like to comprehend geeky things better, and also I can describe it to them in means they'll understand. For instance, I have actually been teaching some regional speaker good friends about blogging and also web marketing, and in return I'm discovering a lot from them regarding speaking, wit, etc. There are lots of intelligent people available that 'd love to have a nerd as a buddy. What can you offer a connection that will be of benefit to somebody else? When you identify what that is (and also it's probably various points), you'll have a simpler time bring in brand-new pals right into your life. * Discover the right social group for you. Purposely think about the types of people you 'd want to have as friends. There's no policy that claims this has to be your peers or associates. I in fact find myself much more curious about making buddies with people who are much older than me instead of individuals my very own age or slightly younger. Individuals around my age (34) often tend to be extremely profession- and family-oriented, but commonly in a somewhat brainless, socially conditioned manner in which isn't focused around any kind of knowingly chosen life function or idea system. And also people in their 20s, while commonly extremely energised, tend to be largely unfocused ... or focused on trivial pursuits that simply aren't that vital. So it's been hard for me to find people near my age where we have sufficient alike for a lasting friendship. I seem to have an easier time making friends with people in their 40s, 50, as well as older. They generally have higher understanding and experience, more fascinating stories to share, extra sources (info and also concepts, funds, get in touches with), and also a much better sense of that they are as well as what they intend to perform with their lives. Commonly I discover myself going to get-togethers where I'm the youngest individual in the space, however that really feels really comfy and typical for me. Don't hesitate to extend past one of the most obvious peer group as well as hang out with individuals from various ages, areas, cultures, nations, etc. You might find the range to be a lot of fun. * Play from your strengths. It's fascinating that lots of introverts have no difficulty interacting socially online. Because environment they're able to play from their staminas. But you can additionally utilize your strengths knowingly as utilize to branch out into even more face-to-face socializing. As an example, after I graduated university, I met a female on a regional BBS (before there was much of a World Wide Web). We got to chatting online over a duration of weeks. Ultimately we met in person as well as became buddies, as well as I soon fell under her pre-existing social team with osmosis. My social calendar went from empty to complete almost over night. That female, incidentally, has actually been my wife for the previous 7.5 years. If you mingle on-line, see if you can not make use of that toughness to develop new regional relationships. While people have actually done this in international forums like on the internet video games, I think it's much easier to try it in local online forums. As an example, there are message boards for people who've recently relocated to Las Vegas. * Join a club. It's old guidance, however it still functions. The advantage is that you'll locate people who share comparable rate of interests, that makes it easier to construct brand-new relationships. One excellent club can fill your social calendar. For example, with my membership in Toastmasters, I obtain invites to lots of other local gatherings. I do not most likely to everything, yet it's nice to obtain those welcomes. Plus belonging to a worldwide company with 200,000 members worldwide creates social inroads around the planet. If you sign up with a club and also find that it's not right for you, give up as well as join something else. My spouse as well as I have actually both been through a variety of regional social teams that just really did not resonate with us (also monotonous, as well slow, as well disorganized, way too many problem drinkers). However one great group is all you require. * Establish your social skills consciously. You can learn to become better at developing rapport, presenting yourself, keeping a conversation going, asking somebody out on a day, feeling socially comfy instead of anxious, and more. You don't need to be superficial and also manipulative regarding it, but truly develop these skills because it will significantly improve your life. One technique I locate exceptionally effective is to ask the various other person exactly how s/he got going in his/her current job. 80-90% of the moment the individual will certainly state something like, "Well, that's a fascinating tale ..." And I genuinely like listening to these stories. A tiny fundamental set of social skills can go a lengthy way due to the fact that you'll reach reuse them each time you meet someone. Whatever skill you would love to create, attempt doing a Google or Amazon search on it, and you'll probably locate lots of articles and also publications. Realize that when you hold on your own back from interacting socially, you're not just depriving on your own-- you're additionally depriving other individuals of the chance to learn more about you. How much longer do you want your future partner or friend to stay alone? Here are some follow-up messages that additionally explore this subject: 1. Improving Social Abilities 2. A Concern for Introverts 3. Risk vs. Compensate in Human Relationships

[foreveralwaysanauthor]

What Love Is

September 22, 2020

Prompt - Turn to page 61 of the book you’re currently reading. The first line is how you will start your story.

Book Used - The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

Characters - Mick, Miles, Royce and Bentley (OCs)

Notes - It’s good to be back writing like this. I missed this a lot more than I thought I would. It’s shorter than I had originally planned, but I had a long day today, so I took it a little easier on the writing tonight.

“The last guy to suggest it lost three teeth,” Mick told Royce and Bentley. The two boys had chosen to spend the afternoon with their “new sister” as Miles had been called down to the shop to work on an emergency job for a friend of the owner. The boys had quickly taken to Mick just as she had to them. Mick had been asked by the boys to talk about what Miles had done since coming to Florida and, as Mick only knew about what he’d done since meeting her, she chose to stick to telling them what stories she knew.

“Really?!” Bentley asked, a look of amazement coming over him. “I can’t think of Miles hitting anybody like that.”

“I can,” Royce claimed, looking up from the journal he’d been writing in. “He used to get really mad when dad would drink. If Miles thought we were in danger because of it, he’d keep us in our room and confront dad head-on.”

“Oh, I remember that,” Bentley said, nodding to himself. “He used to come back to our with bruises and cuts from dad’s rings.”

“Mhm,” Royce hummed, turning back to his journal. “And the first-aid kit.”

Mick sat silently on the couch, absently watching as Bentley played with a set of horse toys and some cowboy figurines that Miles had bought for him and Bentley wrote in his journal. Mick had been kept in the dark about Miles’ childhood since the day she met him and, for the most part, she was fine with that. She never figured that abuse would be in the picture, especially not with how gentle and caring Miles and his brothers were.

“Did he drink often?” Mick questioned softly, looking between the boys.

Bentley shook his head while Royce nodded. Bentley looked up to Mick, his steel blue eyes shining with the same brilliance Miles’ eyes did when he was happy. “Miles never drinks alcohol.”

Royce reached over and tapped Bentley on the head with his pencil. “She meant dad, Benny. And, yeah, Mickie, he did. He used to get mad and yell at us because we were too young and couldn’t buy him alcohol on our way back from school or church. Not that we would’ve gotten it for him if we could. He was always worse when he had alcohol in him.”

“He hit you guys?” Mick asked, her eyes burning at the thought of these sweet little boys being hurt by someone who was supposed to love them. “Just because you weren’t able to get him a drink?”

Once again, Bentley shook his head and Royce nodded. Royce sighed, shutting his journal and rolling his pencil around on the coffee table. “He never hit Benny, that’s for sure,” he assured, watching Mick slide over the edge of the couch so she could sit between himself and Bentley on the floor. “Miles and I made sure to keep Ben from dad when he was mad. When Miles was there, he protected us, but when he left, it was up to me instead.”

“That shouldn’t be anyone’s responsibility, Royce,” Mick stated gently, taking the sixteen-year-old’s hand in her own as he watched her. “Parents should love their kids-”

“He loved us,” Bentley interrupted softly, leaving his toys on the coffee table in favor of joining the conversation. “Maybe not the same way that Miles does, but he did love us.”

“People show love differently, I get that,” Mick said to the youngest of the Murphy brothers, “but, trust me, Benny, when I say that if he gave you all real love the way he needed to as a father, he never would’ve hit any of you to begin with.” 

Royce played with the fraying hem of his jeans, unsure of what to say in response. Mick had a point and he knew it. He never really thought of parental love as anything different than what he knew; parents care about you when they remember you’re there or when they want something from you, even if it means they want to use you as a punching bag. Royce had never had a lot of friends in school because he couldn’t spend time with them outside of school, so he always thought other kids had the same kind of experiences with their parents.

“If that isn’t the kind of love you’re supposed to get from your parents,” Royce mumbled, “what kind of love are they supposed to give you?”

“That kind of love is precious,” Mick began, smiling at Royce as his caramel colored eyes met hers. “It’s when you feel like nothing bad can happen when they’re with you. Like, when I’m sitting with my mom, she puts her arm over the back of the couch so she can hold me every now and then. And she always sits closer to the door in case something happens and she needs to protect me. Or when they listen to you when you’re blabbing on and on about something they don’t have any interest in, but they knows you like it, so they listen anyway.”

If he took a moment to think about what Mick had said, it wouldn’t take Royce long to figure out that love was when Miles was there to protect them and take care of them, giving them hugs and making sure to tell them they were loved by him. Real love was what they had as brothers. The kind love that nobody could take away from the three of them, no matter how hard they tried.

Bentley perked up, his eyes brightening as though he’d come up with a brilliant idea. “That’s how Miles loves us! He loves us like dad should.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s right.” Mick ran a hand through Bentley’s hair, smiling as he leaned into her hand with a cheesy grin. The fourteen-year-old moved, sitting next to Mick and leaning his head on her shoulder as he draped an arm over her stomach. “He loves you both so much more than you realize.”

Mick tucked an arm over Bentley’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze before reaching over with her free arm and pulling Royce over to her as well. The three of them stayed that way for a few minutes, Mick allowing the two boys to stay with her as long as they wanted. Royce had sat beside Mick, resting his head on her arm and talking softly with her while Bentley simply listened to them talk. A few minutes after Mick and Royce’s conversation began, Bentley moved from the group hug as he heard a something from behind the couch. He smiled up at Miles as the oldest of the siblings climbed over the back of the couch and settled himself on the floor.

“What did I miss?” Miles asked, getting his ribs squished in a hug by his baby brother the moment he had sat on the floor. The confused twenty-year-old looked to Mick with a look of confusion laced with concern, rubbing a hand over Bentley’s back while the other held the younger boy’s head.

“Not much,” Mick said with a knowing smile as Royce climbed over her and attached himself to Miles the same way Bentley had. “I was just telling the boys about what love feels like.”

[nicolewrites]

We Stand, Fate-Tested - III

Social distancing? More like stay up super late and write more. Stay safe and take the necessary steps to help out your community everyone.

Rating: T+ Genre: Mystery, Friendship, Romance Characters: [Byleth/My Unit, Dimitri B.], [Byleth/My Unit, Claude R.] Words: 5,488

Claude likes Almyran Pine / A familiar face pays the monastery a visit

AO3 | FFN

III - Tea and Conversation

Garreg Mach University - 16 Horsebow Moon, 732 AU

Byleth arrived before Claude did. She ordered a cup of tea and sat at one of the tables in the corner of the café. She sipped at her tea silently and observed the bustle around her. As the café on campus, Anna’s was busy from its opening hour right up until when it closed. The time Byleth had chosen, 4pm, was right in the middle of lecture slots, but the place still had a line to the door and barely any open seats.

At five minutes past the hour, Byleth checked her watch. Claude had been so interested in meeting with her, but he was late. She wondered if he was standing her up for some reason. She would give him another five minutes before she left, she reasoned. While she waited, she pulled out her laptop and looked at the form on the screen in front of her.

She was currently working at forming the application questions for the undergraduate application to Seteth’s research team. She had the general points hammered out that she wanted to include, but the specifics were bugging her a little. Seteth was supposed to reply to the draft he had sent him that morning, but there was no email in her inbox yet, so Byleth felt stuck.

“Hi Teach,” Claude greeted and Byleth snapped her head up. Claude stood in front of her table, grinning and sounding just the tiniest bit out of breath.

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “You’re late,” she pointed out.

Claude shrugged. “Practice ran long, I’m sorry. I made it though.” He glanced at the teacup on the table in front of her. “Ah, darn, I was going to pay to thank you for doing this.”

Byleth waved him off. “It’s only a few coins, I can handle it.”

Claude sat down and Byleth closed her laptop, sliding it off the table. “Even so, I wanted to be polite. I did ask you here.”

“To talk about archaeology,” Byleth said. “It’s not a date.”

Claude laughed and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. Byleth stared for a moment before she dropped her gaze to the table. Claude was pretty, but he was also her student so she didn’t really want anything to do with his charming face.

“So you just really want to talk about archaeology, do you?” he questioned.

Byleth glanced back up at him and studied him for a moment. He was wearing a yellow t-shirt with the emblem of a deer on it. The shirt stretched across his chest as he reclined in the chair, stretching his arms over his head leisurely. He wrapped his hands behind his head and smirked at her. The action caused his forearms to flex, showing off the wiry, toned muscles in them.

Byleth rolled her eyes. “That’s what you said you wanted to discuss,” she noted, raising an eyebrow.

Claude chuckled. “Alright, I guess I can start then. Why study the Guardian? You could have picked any discipline, so why focus on the Unification Era?”

“It’s the single biggest archaeological field in Fódlan. It has the most funding,” Byleth said shortly.

Claude clicked his tongue. “See, I might have believed that if I didn’t know you weren’t lying. In tutorial, you could have had us categorize any artifact and you chose the Guardian’s Blade. That, to me, indicates a specific interest in her. Plus, your thesis is specifically on her disappearance isn’t it?”

Byleth sighed. “Fine, you’re right. When I started learning about the Unification Era, I looked into the leaders of the time, as most people would. Notably, there was the Saviour King and the Guardian of Order. There were almost no records that survived the Scorch of Garreg Mach in 101 AU, but some of the documentation was preserved after the riots in Fhirdiad the following year. The King’s disappearance is explained a little there: he was killed in battle, presumed to have been in the Sreng region fighting off an invasion. The Guardian, on the other hand, was much more ambiguous. She outlived him, that much is clear, but it doesn’t make sense why she would just up and vanish like she did with very little explanation.”

Claude’s eyes gleamed as he listened to her explain. “You think she left for a reason,” he supplied.

Byleth nodded. “I do. I don’t know if archaeology is the way to prove that, but I’ve been digging into the Royal Collection and the artifacts of that era as much as I can to try and figure out why she would leave so suddenly.”

Claude nodded. “Makes sense to me.” He paused and ran a thumb over his lower lip, thinking, for a moment before he looked Byleth in the eye. “I think you’re looking in all the wrong places though.”

“Excuse me?”

“If you’re so interested in the Guardian, you should know that she was supposedly the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros at the time. Why look in the remains of the Royal Collection when you could look into the Old Church records and such?”

“She was married to the King,” Byleth said simply. “That, and the fact that many of her personal effects were found as a part of the Royal Collection.” She glanced out the café window at the university’s main building. “Plus, the Old Church has never made looking into their records after the Scorch easy to do.”

Claude considered her words. “I suppose so. Still, the GMU used to be the central monastery of the Church, didn’t it? Wouldn’t there be more answers there?”

Byleth shrugged. “Honestly, I hope so, but, as I said, there’s never been a full excavation of the old monastery.”

“But there was an excavation,” Claude said. He tilted his head and the green of his eyes was cuttingly perceptive and Byleth bit her lip. “Everyone tries to keep it all hush-hush, but there was an excavation, wasn’t there? You’ll have to excuse me as I’m not entirely caught up on archaeological news.”

Byleth took a sip of her tea. She had ordered Chamomile because it was her favourite decaf tea and it was too late in the day for caffeine now. Claude clearly knew something about the failed excavation. It felt like he was testing her to see how much she would tell him or how much she knew herself.

“It was supposed to be a full-year endeavour,” Byleth said finally. “It was a professor from the University who received private funding from a benefactor to lead a team below the old monastery. The security coordinator pulled himself from the project and it ended up falling through just shortly after it began. That was five years ago and no one has had approval from the Old Church and the government to be down there since.”

“Privately funded?” Claude questioned. “For an expedition to a historical site of religious and political importance, I’m surprised it was allowed to happen at all.”

Byleth paused. She had never actually considered that point herself, but it explained why Seteth had been jumping through so many hoops with the museum’s board as well as with the university to secure permission and funding.

“What do you think you’d find down there if you went looking?” Claude continued, watching her curiously.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t know the whole story with the last team, so I can only wonder if they really articled everything they found down there, or if something else happened.” She sipped her tea. “Who knows, maybe there’s some kind of written record of the Guardian. That would certainly make my life interesting.”

“You know, Teach, for someone who was so hesitant to meet me, you’ve sure told me an awful lot of stuff,” Claude said teasingly.

Byleth rolled her eyes. “Most of it is common information for someone in our departments. You could have learned all of that yourself, so why did you want to hear it from me?”

“You’re interesting,” Claude admitted. “You have this air of cool and collected around you, but that first day, when I mentioned that you bore a resemblance to the Almyran depictions of her, you got uncomfortable. Then, when I placed the Guardian’s Blade as a Relic without background information, I startled you.”

He was right, of course, and Byleth hated it. “My physical resemblance to an unproven depiction has nothing to do with my studies,” she replied sharply.

Claude held up his hands. “Woah, I didn’t mean that it did. Besides, you’re my TA, so am I not allowed to just be genuinely interested in you as a person?”

“You haven’t asked me anything personal.”

Claude leaned forward onto his elbows and smiled challengingly. “I wasn’t aware I was allowed to.”

Byleth bit down a retort. “You mentioned a practice earlier as the reason why you were late,” she commented instead, swinging the topic to a different place.

He raised an eyebrow. “So you get personal questions and I don’t?” Byleth held his gaze and waited for him to answer the question. Finally, after a good three seconds of eye contact, Claude gave in. “Archery,” he replied. “I’m the team captain.”

She gestured to his shirt. “Does the deer have anything to do with that? It has the university crest on the sleeve.” It wasn’t a detail she had seen immediately, but on the right arm right above the hem on his bicep was the logo for Garreg Mach University.

“You don’t know about the Houses?” Claude asked. He sounded genuinely surprised.

Byleth shrugged. “I guess not.”

“You did your undergrad here, so how did you not know about them?” he asked.

Byleth shrugged again. “I wasn’t the most social person. Especially in my first year.”

“Ah,” Claude noted. “Well, in first year, students can pledge one of the three Houses at the University. You get an upper-year buddy and get invited to specific social events and it’s an integration assistant basically. I’m a part of the Golden Deer House.”

“That explains the deer. And the yellow.”

Claude laughed. “It does, yeah. Some of my best friends are from the Golden Deer, so I can’t really say anything negative about the House system.”

“Are Edelgard and Dimitri in the Golden Deer?”

“Nah. Edel is part of the Black Eagles and Dimitri is part of the Blue Lions. They both followed in their parents’ footsteps in that regard and I just decided to be contrary to them since I didn’t have any previous connections here at the university.”

Byleth nodded and sipped her tea again. It was almost cold now, so she placed the mug down on the counter and spun the teabag through it, studying the ripples it left with interest. Claude didn’t say anything for a moment and Byleth let the silence hang over them.

“I’m going to grab a cup if you’d like a refill,” he offered after a moment.

Byleth blinked and noticed that he had extended his hand to take her cup. She slid it over the table to him. “Thank you,” she said softly.

Claude just picked up the mug and headed for the line in the café. She watched him stand in line and pull out his phone to check something as he waited for a till to free up so he could place his own order. It only took him a few minutes to get a refill of hot water for Byleth as well as his own mug and he made his way back over to her, placing the two steaming mugs between them.

“Thank you,” Byleth said again.

Claude smiled again. “No worries.” He paused to stir his own teabag through the hot water before taking a tiny sip. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed Byleth was staring at him. “Teach?” he questioned.

“What kind of tea?” she asked before she could stop herself. There was something itching in her brain and she felt like it hinged on the type of tea that Claude preferred.

He looked a little surprised at the bluntness of her question. “Almyran Pine,” he answered. “It’s an old favourite of mine.”

“Bitter and very caffeinated,” Byleth supplied.

Claude nodded. “Almost as much caffeine as green tea.” He glanced at her own cup. “It sounds like you’re speaking from experience. Do you usually drink caffeinated teas?”

Byleth curled her hands around her own mug and felt the hot porcelain sting against the sensitive skin of her palms. “I’ve never actually had Almyran Pine,” she admitted. She knew it’s flavour profile, but she’d never actually tried it. She was more partial to the softer floral teas or a black tea like Bergamot.

Claude looked almost offended. “Everyone here seems to be like that. Edelgard and Dimitri think I’m strange for liking this blend. Honestly, Anna’s doesn’t even have a particularly good blend of it.”

“Can I try it?” Byleth asked.

Claude shrugged. “Sure.” He slid the cup across the table to her and she could already smell the fresh, earthy aroma wafting up to her.

She lifted the mug and blew gently across the liquid to cool it. She took a small sip and was instantly struck by the sharpness of the tea. It was bright on her tongue, tasting quite similarly to how she imagined biting a pine needle would taste.

“So?” Claude prompted as she placed the mug down and slid it back to him.

Byleth furrowed her brow, trying to process. “It tastes familiar,” she murmured. It was a strange admission to make, especially since she couldn’t remember ever tasting it before. She had never really been a big tea drinker before university, and she knew that she had definitely never ordered the Almyran Pine blend from Anna’s in the 5 years she had been studying at Garreg Mach.

“I thought you said you’d never had it before,” Claude commented, furrowing his brow.

Byleth bit her lip and took a drink from her own tea, trying to push away her discomfort. “I haven’t.”

Claude was definitely caught off guard by this, as evidenced by his silence. He sipped his tea himself and just watched Byleth curiously. She kept her gaze firmly either on the table or at the bottom of her own mug.

“Dr. Cichol is putting together a team for a dig below Garreg Mach in the new year,” Byleth confessed after the silence had lingered for too long.

Claude’s eyebrows shot up and he almost choked on his tea. “I thought you were saying it was hard to get approval for that.”

“Hard, but not impossible,” she corrected. “Seteth has been working at this for four years now and he’s finally got the clearance. He’s taking on everyone in his lab, including me, and a group of undergraduates.”

Claude straightened. “Wait, this is only the second major expedition to the old monastery ruins below the university and he’s taking undergraduates instead of a full team of professionals? Which students?”

Byleth nodded. “The idea came from the Board of the Fhirdiad National Museum of Unification who is funding him. They want it to be an educational experience too to give students some practical hands-on training.” She paused, pursing her lips. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about this until the application is finalized.”

“Application?” Claude inquired, a gleam in his green eyes that was equal parts interest and mischief.

Byleth sighed. “Students in Archaeology 356 class will have the opportunity to apply for the eight spots as student researchers.” She lifted a finger and jabbed it towards Claude. “You are not supposed to know this information yet, so you are absolutely not allowed to say anything to anyone until the application is released.”

Claude grinned. “Won’t tell a soul,” he promised. “Why did you tell me, if I can ask?”

Byleth honestly didn’t know. “You’re passionate,” she said. “You’re interested in history and archaeology and I know you’ll be applying anyways.” She studied his face before adding, “and you remind me of myself when I was in undergrad. I wanted to learn everything that I could and I was just so damn curious that Seteth finally sat down with me and just handed me a brochure for the graduate program and didn’t let me leave until I committed to applying to it. I see the same spark in you.”

Claude’s lips twitched into a half-smirk. “The graduate program, hm? Is this a recruitment speech now?”

Byleth rolled her eyes. “No. This is me answering questions you had about my research and having a conversation with a peer that I share interests with.”

Claude nodded. “Fair enough, although, I will admit, I haven’t asked many questions today.”

Byleth frowned. “You still have questions?”

“Sure, plenty,” Claude answered. He glanced at the watch on his wrist and gave a faint smile. “More than I have time to ask, unfortunately.”

Byleth sighed. “Well, honestly, this wasn’t entirely unpleasant. I’m usually here Wednesdays and Thursdays after 4 doing reading or work.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It’s an open comment,” she refuted. “I’m still your TA.”

Claude shrugged. “Peers with similar interest,” he parroted her earlier phrase. He drank the last of his tea and set his empty mug on the table. “It’s been a pleasure, Teach. I’ll see you next week.”

Byleth watched him lift his backpack up and walk out of Anna’s, pulling his phone out to make a call as he went. He left her with no context for his farewell. She had no idea whether he meant he would see her Monday in lecture, Tuesday in tutorial, or Wednesday or Thursday in the café. It was a fitting ‘Claude’ reply and Byleth now understood Edelgard and Dimitri’s warnings and apologies about their friend.

Byleth sipped at her tea again, but the chamomile tasted more bitter than it had previously. She could still taste the lingering, strangely-familiar Almyran Pine when she swallowed and she frowned, looking at the door to the café.

- ~ - ~ - ~ -

Garreg Mach Monastery - 7 Ethereal Moon, Unification Year

Byleth was in the garden on the third floor of the monastery when Seteth found her. She heard him coming and turned around as he approached. She gave him a small smile as he bowed respectfully.

“Your Grace, I was hoping I might have a moment of your time,” Seteth said. He gave a cursory glance toward the entrance back to the monastery where Cyril was standing guard.

Byleth gestured for Cyril to head inside. “Give us a few minutes, would you?”

“Of course, Lady Byleth,” he said, immediately turning and heading inside, leaving Byleth and Seteth alone under the moonlight.

“What can I help you with Seteth?” Byleth asked curiously, turning her full attention back to her advisor.

“You have grown into your role beautifully, Your Grace,” Seteth said instead, seemingly disregarding the question.

Byleth pressed her lips together and nodded. Many of the Archbishop’s duties she had already been carrying out before her official ascension to the position, so in reality, she hadn’t really taken upon that much more in the last few weeks. Most notably, it just seemed to limit the amount of time she was able to spend training.

“You’re not here to compliment me on the role I have been groomed for, Seteth,” Byleth pointed out.

He paused, but then he nodded. “Fair enough.” Seteth looked up, squinting at the moon where it hung in the sky. “I assume you remember what I told you that day, back at the monastery.”

Byleth’s eyebrows rose and she bit her tongue. This had not been the direction she had expected Seteth to take this conversation. “I do,” she agreed.

Seteth looked back at her and gestured to one of the benches on the terrace. “I did not tell you everything, nor did I explain the things I did tell you well enough. I gather you have figured out that I am one of the Nabateans, and that Flayn, despite her mortal mother, has taken after me.”

Seteth paused to let her process and things started to slide more concretely into place in her mind. Seteth and Flayn had Nabatean heritage and since Rhea herself was supposedly Seiros–her brain short-circuited. “Seteth,” she breathed. “How old are you?”

He chuckled lightly. “Don’t you know you should never ask people their age?” Byleth levelled him with a stare and she watched his eyes take on a far-off look. “I am from the old era,” Seteth finally admitted. “Flayn and I had been with Rhea for a very long time.”

He fell silent together and Byleth studied his profile. Something clicked in the back of her mind and Byleth put it together. “Cichol. You’re Cichol.”

“And Flayn is Cethleann, yes. Macuil grew disgusted with humans and conflict and he isolated himself away from it all. Indech hid away as well, taking on the mythos of a great protector. Flayn and I changed our names and moved around. After the fire at Garreg Mach where your father left with you when you were a baby, Rhea called us to the monastery. She always believed you were alive, even when Jeralt said you had perished. I supposed she could feel the Crest Stone inside you.”

Byleth held up a hand to get him to stop. “If she knew all this time, why did she let Jeralt take me in the first place. Wasn’t I her means to an end?”

“At first, Rhea searched for you and your father, but Jeralt knew Rhea well enough by this point and he knew how to hide from her. I suppose then that she knew she couldn’t keep looking for your without tipping Jeralt off and causing him to go deeper underground, so she waited for the right opportunity.”

“In Remire Village, when I first met Dimitri and Edelgard and Claude, did she have anything to do with that?”

Seteth shook his head. “As far as I have discovered, the bandit attack that drove them to Remire Village was actually orchestrated by Edelgard in an attempt to remove the heads of the other houses. Your mercenary group being there was probably a happy accident and a massive wrench in her plan.”

Byleth nodded. It made sense. As twisted as it was for Edelgard to attempt to assassinate Dimitri and Claude, it unfortunately aligned with the in-depth plan that Edelgard had created in order to orchestrate the war against the church. “So you and Flayn are Nabateans by blood and Rhea is Seiros, the last surviving child of Sothis. I don’t understand why you’re telling me all of this right now,” Byleth confessed. She touched her engagement ring and bit her lip.

Seteth sighed. “Byleth, I have to admit, Flayn and I have been looking into all of this for some time and I didn’t know when it would be important for you to have this information. Everything that happened with you and merging with Sothis, surely you have noticed something about yourself?”

Byleth touched her hair as Seteth spoke. Sometimes when she woke up in the morning, the green of it was still startling to her. The changes that Sothis’s power had bestowed on her body had made her different, obviously, but the changes had all been sudden: her hair, her eyes, and the spiking power that had coursed through her veins. “What do you mean?” she asked quietly.

“We are unsure of anything right now,” Seteth admitted, “but there is a good chance that your merging with the goddess has changed you, Byleth, from a mortal with a Crest Stone for a heart, to something else entirely.”

Byleth leaned away from Seteth, recoiling in surprise. “Are you saying I am immortal?”

“I have no idea,” Seteth confessed. “It is a possibility. Flayn and I have established two possibilities for what happened to you: either your body accepted Sothis’s power cleanly thanks to the Crest Stone and you will take on her immortality, or,” he paused, grimacing slightly.

“Or what, Seteth,” Byleth prompted, feeling a cold fear creep through her veins.

“Or the Crest Stone has acted as a conduit to Sothis’s power, allowing you to wield it as long as you have strength. There is a chance that the goddess’s power has corrupted your mortality entirely and,” he trailed off, looking almost ill.

Byleth stood up from the bench and took a few steps away, her head spinning. “And it’s consuming me from the inside,” she murmured, completing Seteth’s explanation. She turned to face him and saw the pain in his eyes. “You’re saying that the power could either make me immortal or kill me and we have no way of knowing which one until one or the other happens.”

Byleth buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “I’m getting married tomorrow!” She snapped her head up and glared at Seteth. “Why did you tell me this now?”

Seteth sighed and Byleth noted that for the first time since she’d known him, he looked defeated and completely bone-tired. “Because you deserved to know all of this the moment I discovered it and because your life no longer affects only you now. I wanted you to have this information so that you could make the decision to tell Dimitri. I am sorry, Byleth. I wish I had more answers for you.”

Tears stung in her eyes and she wiped them away angrily. “So I am supposed to just tell my fiancé that I might either die suddenly or outlive him by thousands of years right before we pledge ourselves to each other and expect him to just accept that?”

“You are supposed to decide when and if you tell him,” Seteth corrected gently. “The information is yours now and I promise you that Flayn and I will continue to work on this to try and find more answers.”

Byleth’s shoulders trembled. “I don’t want answers, I just want all of this to stop!” she cried out. Her knees felt dangerously weak and she lowered herself to the stone floor of the terrace and stared up at the sky.

The moon and the stars blurred behind her tears. Byleth twisted her hands together and felt them warm up with white magic. The healing power didn’t sink into her because, of course, she had no physical injuries, so she let the Recover spell fizzle into nothingness. Even after the magic had physically dispelled, Byleth could still feel the lingering warmth of its power in her veins, a feeling similar to that invoked by the Sublime Creator Sword when she wielded it.

“Where is Rhea?” Byleth asked. She wiped away the lingering tears in her eyes and stood back to her feet. She turned back to face Seteth and lifted her chin up with what confidence she could muster. “Would she know?”

“Rhea did not see fit to tell any of us where she would be going once she left the monastery,” Seteth began.

“Seteth,” Byleth cut off sharply. “Would she know?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Rhea spent a long time trying to,” he winced, “create you, but I don’t think anything about how it happened was according to her plan. Implanting the Crest Stone in you was clearly not something she had intended to do, but I don’t know if she knew what it would lead to.”

Byleth nodded slowly and rubbed at her arms nervously. “Okay,” she said softly. The information was still whirring in her brain and she had no idea how she was supposed to be feeling or how she was supposed to react. Mostly, she was still afraid to tell Dimitri. They were supposed to wed tomorrow and she hadn’t the slightest idea what to tell him, if anything at all.

“I am sorry to spring this on you, Byleth,” Seteth said again.

Byleth exhaled slowly. “I know.”

She didn’t know what she would have done next, but Cyril reappeared in the doorway of the monastery and she instead wiped her face quickly and straightened up. This was not the time for the leader of the church to come across as weak or divided on anything.

“Cyril?” she called to him. Seteth turned, noticing their visitor.

“Your Grace, Seteth, there is important news,” Cyril said.

“News?” Byleth frowned, walking towards her friend. “What happened?”

Cyril looked like he was trying to hide a smile. “There’s someone here to see you, Your Grace.”

Now Byleth knew she looked as confused as she felt. “Wait, what? Everyone who was coming to the wedding should have been here yesterday or earlier. Who’s here?”

“You ought to come see for yourself. They’re in the main hall with Dimitri and the others.”

Byleth sighed and stepped past Cyril. She would take up this conversation with Seteth again later, but for now, she was just incredibly curious about who was showing up at the monastery the night before her wedding to the King of Fódlan. She made her way quickly down to the first floor. Seteth followed her a few paces back and Byleth led the charge through the reception hall towards the entrance hall.

She entered the hall and walked towards the main monastery gates. She could hear familiar voices–Flayn, Dimitri, Ingrid, Annette–and she hurried forward so she could see down the stairs. The first person she saw was, of course, the large frame of Dimitri, but then she saw who was beside him and her jaw dropped.

Claude von Riegan stood next to Dimitri, arms folded and a smirk on his face. He was wearing the armour of a wyvern rider and he seemed to have lost all of the regalia he had previously adorned as the leader of the Alliance.

Seteth had stopped next to her at the top of the stairs and Byleth could feel the ripples of surprise coming off of him that were similar to her own shock. Byleth stepped down one stair and then another, still looking between Dimitri and Claude. The last time she had seen Claude had been in Derdriu when he had ceded the Alliance to Dimitri and announced his intentions to leave Fódlan. She had no idea what he was doing here.

Though she hadn’t led the Golden Deer during their time at the Academy, Byleth had always enjoyed Claude’s company. He had been clever and snarky and just distrusting of the church enough that her father had liked him too. He was an excellent shot with a bow and he was a brilliant tactician, skills Byleth definitely commended. She felt almost affronted that he would choose the day before her wedding to miraculously drop out of the sky.

Her shock faded and her annoyance and anger replaced it and she descended the rest of the stairs quickly. She approached the group of her friends and Annette barely had time to notice her before Byleth was cutting in front of Dimitri and grabbing Claude by the collar of his armour.

“Claude von Riegan, what in the goddess’s name are you doing here?” Byleth demanded.

Claude had tensed as soon as she had grabbed him, but he relaxed when he noted that it was Byleth who had assaulted him and that she didn’t truly look angry, more annoyed. Dimitri stepped closer to Byleth and gently tugged her hand away from Claude’s neck. Byleth resisted for a moment before she dropped her hand with a huff. Dimitri let his hand curl around hers, partially out of affection and partially to make sure she didn’t accost Claude again.

Claude chuckled lightly and straightened his armour. “Hey, Teach, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Byleth narrowed her eyes. “What are you doing here?” she repeated.

Claude smirked. “Well, when I heard that the King of Fódlan was getting married to the Archbishop of the Church of Seiros, I knew that I couldn’t miss my chance to stop by and give you my best wishes. Surely you’ll be able to find a seat for me at the ceremony tomorrow?”

Byleth pursed her lips. There was something fishy about his explanation–some edge to the words that hid their real meaning. It was a tone of voice she was familiar with from Claude’s time as her student. The wedding was only an excuse for him because he definitely had some sort of ulterior motive.

Dimitri didn’t seem to share her observation because he laughed. “Don’t worry Claude, we won’t turn you back out into the cold. We’ll find you a seat if you tell us where you’ve been this past half-year.”

Claude’s lips twitched. “It’s kind of a long explanation for the night before such a big day.”

Byleth folded her arms and levelled an even stare at the former Alliance leader. “You’re not weaselling out of this one.”

Claude held up his hands. “Alright, alright, but surely we can find somewhere to sit first?”

[thisuserhasoriginalideas]

(Still nameless project) Character and Species master post

Soo how some might have noticed I am working on an original Idea for a comic and this will be my Character master post which I will add to whenever I got a new addition for the cast.

The premise of the story basically some aliens going on an adventure to find earth and join a supposed interplanetary peaceful conglomeration because they caught a transmission of an old cheesy and corny scifi series (ala star trek or well early Perry Rhodan when you actually know that novel series you get a free smooch from me)

The Lophorel and the Narlaha

Those are the first Species to be introduced and well the ones where the original three crew members will start off .

For demonstration purposes I include a pic of the parents of the first three bc I still need to make a general species guide for them lol

(From left to right: Shejeren, Noroph'a, Uruphija'l, Charalah I will give some short specific info about them later lol)

Both species share one planet which is the second in their solar system and has three moons orbiting around it.

The Lophorel are native to surface of the planet and usually have a skin color ranging from very light blues to dark purples. They have gem like growths on their heads which is surrounded by a skin covered bone structure which either is build like an ark or a row of lill spikes. They have pointy ears and their bigger eyes have octagonal pupils which form a cross when constricted. Usually their Iris has the same color as their gem and their Sclera is black, in rare cases there can be mutations of color tho. With their eyes they can perceive a wide array of colors and even some elektro magnetic phenomena in their environment but they are pretty much blind in low light situations. They usually wear longer hair (short hair is seen as obscene in their culture) in different braided styles. While white hair is the most common hair color in their species there are also variants of reddish browns that can occur. They aren't very strong however but do to their legs agile and good at jumping. Height wise they can get from 1,60 m (5' 2'')up to 1,90 m (6' 2'') They are generally hermaphrodites and don't have naval  due to laying eggs. They use the terms Eren (Seedgiver) and Ophat (shellcarrier) to adresse their parents and it occurs that siblings from the same parent pair use diffrent terms for addressing the same parent. They also number their children with the last sibille of their name so for example having 'rel' at the end of a name means that it is the first hatched child YEP I gonne write a language guid later someday lol . While being omnivore they have developed a distaste to eating meat and as a culture live mostly vegetarian.

The Narlaha are used to live mostly under the surface of the planet and are often called Nipht by the Lophorel which is similar to calling someone and earthworm. In turn the Narlaha call the Lophorel Kar'alarf which literally means stone-head. They are significantly smaller than their surface dwelling neighbors and only get around 1,50 m (4' 9''). They have four arms and are significantly physically stronger. Due to their carnivore nature and history of hunting they have sharp claws and teeth and usually a very dark grey skin completion mixed with red markings which makes them blend in with their stone surroundings. Their four eyes are one tones and most of the time their eye colors range from white grayish to red. They may only see the world in reddish and green tones but they have excellent vision in dark areas. The bone structure on their head helps them sensing vibrations from their surroundings. They are more like us humans when it comes to their genders and sexualities soo no big explanation here. But they don't really have their own names instead a family name is given from the chosen parent to the child with either a 'lah'(born female), 'ren'(born male), 'len' (born intersex) at the end depending on the biological sex they are born with. Also they tend to have brown to black hair only sometimes they mutate blond hair. Also there are albinos I'm the Species

In the history of their species they obviously didn't get along very well most of the time so after a view wars the Lophorel sadly established a trend of enslaving the Narlaha bc the Lophorel (having the advantage of not limited airspace) were technology more advanced than the Narlaha, who due to limited space couldn't build respected deferenses against the most of the time vibration based attacks of the Lophorel. While the violent ages of this planet are now gone both their cultures got so accustomed to the practice of slavery that there are barely any objectors on both sides of the coin. Still during the events of the story there some thing about to be changed lol.

And now off to a few words to the named characters above. They are as stated the Parents to the first three crew members of the story. Noroph'a is a rich space miner that makes his living with deploying mining ships to other planets of their solar system. They married the way less fortunate Uruphija'l due to practicality and the wish to produce taller offspring (They are a little insecure about their height). Both of them are rather strict and caught up in outdated social rules. After they conceived their first egg they bought Shejeren and Charalah bc they also were expecting a child and Noroph'a wanted their offspring to grow up with an always present play buddy bc he also grew up with a Narlaha play mate. After Charalah gave birth to a little baby daughter (Shejelah) She and her husband were kept as bodyguards for the two Lophorels while a third Narlaha took care of Shejelah and the now also hatched Ala'phrel.(Charalah and Shejeren already had a older child Chararen who at this point already worked in a diffrent household [Narlaha children get independent pretty quickly]). In general where the two Narlahas pretty happy to have landed in Noroph'a's household because their new daughter now had the privilege to get the basics of a good high tier education together with Noroph'a's offsprings which would mean that she could later find a home as a home preschool teacher which is considered a honorable position for a  Narlaha. Noroph'a  and Uruphija’l had one more child (Nirlaph) and even tho Shejeren and Charalah tried to also conceive again Shejelah stayed the only young Narlaha in the household. 

On to the important peeps

(From left to right Nirlaph, Ala’phrel, Shejelah)

Growing up together the three established a strong bond and even tho it was planed to send Shejelah away as she got old enough to be sold off again Ala’phrel and Nirlaph both protested against their parents wishes and kept Shejelah around. This is partially because when they were younger and first got to have tech based toys the three of them build a simple signal receiver which accidentally lead them to catch an old transmission of a show called "Captain Jacks search through the stars" which depicted a utopian society without racism and slavery. They didn't understand a word of what was said in the show but the depiction of different races (even tho they were suspiciously similar in general looks) working together seemingly without race hierarchy fascinated the three kids to such an extend that they from there on strived to one-day be able to meet Captain Jack and his Crew and join their ranks. They over time established a translation of the alien language and made it their own. Learned all principles which Captain Jack resided as foundation of the peaceful planets conglomeration and started studying all skills need to actually fly a space ship.

Even tho the three kids treated each other as equals the older they got the more Shejelah had to oblige to the house rules, meaning she had to adapt to the servant clothing, had to learn formal speaking rules and wasn't allowed to speak without spoken to in general. While she did conform to those rules to some degree the suppressed aggression against them lead to her having a very strange relationship with human swear words. She really likes to sprinkling them in when she has the opportunity to speak freely. In general she seem to be a rather reserved individual (despite the swearword occasionally slipping out) but that's just as long as she doesn't trusts you. At times she seems to be just a tad sassy which is a way for her to handel her insecurities about her social status and her struggle to actually  come forward with requests  regarding herself, bringing her ideas forward or just simply saying ‘no’ to a request. It is very important to her to be able to choose her own clothing and she often will change her outfits as she sees fit just because being forced to wear a unified and dull outfit for most of her life evoked a desire of outward expression of herself in her. So even tho she dawns a version of the uniform they have seen the crew members of captain Jack wear she  will take her own spin on them and  proudly wears her own creations. She wears an open nose ring to honer her upbringing as slave and symbolize her now found freedom. Shejelah is often called just Jelah by her two friend after  seeing the crew members of Jack using Nicknames for each other, while this is a shorter version of her name it also means ‘brain’ in an ancient language of the  Lophorel. And indeed a brain she is, not just having the strength of her species  Shejelah is quite smart and has a high interests in quantum physics and chemistry. She will often work together with Nirlaph, who has a interests into engineering to invent and upgrade all sorts of gadgets and knickknacks.   Speaking of Nirlaph (Nick: Nor translatable with ‘fluffy chicken’) they are non a less brilliant but suffer a severe case of being skittish and uncertain. As the younger sibling they often had to live to the standards the older one leid down first  and while they are in many aspects superior to their sibling the stress of being held up to already high standards got to them at a young age. So while they are capable of being  brilliant and an absolute genius their anxiety and stage fright often hold them back. So more often then not they tend to overthink decisions and either screw something up in the execution do to the anxiety or just not doing it at all even tho deep down they know they should have. They still don’t hold a grudge against their older sibling to the contrary they heavily rely on the fare more outgoing and intuitive  Ala’phrel to pull them for Support and to just pull them against  through it. But other than  Ala’phrel and Shejelah they prefer to keep to them selves  often working in the dead of the night and in secret  on their projects  to avoid the awkwardness that brings working under the public eye. But also he refuses to give their  and Shejelah’s brilliant invention to a society that wouldn’t even acknowledge Shejelah’s part in them  which they think is way greater than their part in them. So even if both of their work could have revolutionized the space travel of their society they keep their inventions a secret which will later be to their advantage. But well without  Ala’phrel the trio wouldn’t get to the point where they will find them selves.  Ala’phrel is bold, charismatic and understands how to get their way. They are the driving force behind the whole story dragging the other two further  into the right direction. While lacking the brilliant and deep understanding of the scientific backgrounds  their bordering on delusional positive attitude and admiration of the concepts  they have seen in the show keeps them all moving forward. Ala’phrel isn’t shy of justifying controversial actions ( like stealing a ship from their parents) with the greater  intention behind them which sometimes leads to further trouble they need to deal with together with their friends which more often than not build the perfect contra weight to  Ala’phrel ‘s at times insane schemes. They definitely are a bit too much obsessed with captain Jack and his crew and them being real so you could say they are a super fan. But in the end they have good intentions even tho they lack the experience they always try to do the best for their friend and for themselves.

[alkhale]

Locked Here for Forever (1/6) Dark!Sabo/Oc/Dark!Ace

(quick note before y’all come at me with torches)

This was a side project I’ve been playing around with while working on updates (THE UPDATES ARE COMING I SWEAR, I SWEAR) I was kinda... possessed? to write this and when it kept coming back to me, I realized I needed to get it out of my system. Doing that made me realize how big it was going to end up being so it’s divided up into parts. 

I’ve been wanting to explore a different variety of things. We can say “darker” themes, but I really just wanted to try my hand at playing with characters with honestly manipulative and sociopathic behavior. I’m not going on a limb to say yandere because that term is loose and often made to be thought of with stabby-stabby, stalky-stalky--but I think it can encompass a lot more? Possessive behavior, controlling, but I wanted to really go into manipulative behavior. Sociopathic because it’s not psychotic, it’s functioning and cold and hmm.

(Btw, to each their own, fantasies, kinks, we don’t shame here. But if anyone is ever putting you through what Hoku is going to be put through here and manipulating you into basically mind controlling you and this and that, it is not a healthy relationship and they are scum and you deserve better, drop their ass like a hot fucking potato.)

I decided to use Hoku because this idea originally came from another AU for Memos. (I’m sorry Hoku) Loosely based on the premise from the BL comic, “Points of Three”

It’s here on AO3, if you just want to read there too.

Rating: NSFW

Pairing: Sabo/Oc/Ace (Past! Kid/Oc), Dark!Ace/Oc/Dark!Sabo

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Manipulation (Psychological and Emotional), Past Assault, Past Trauma, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Use of Aphrodisiacs, BDSM, Dubious Consent, Controlling Behavior, Stalking

Chapter One: Points of Three

“From three points, it can’t ever end. They’ll always pull at one. One is always pulled between them. One point is always trapped between the other two.”   

Hoku shoved a pancake into her mouth.

“That’s the idea at least.”

The twenty-four hour breakfast diner was only half busy. A dingy place with wallpaper peeling in places but always clean and friendly. Cozy. The booths had tears at the seams, patched together by other patches. Establishments like this weren’t too popular all throughout their town, but the diner’s all-you-can-eat pancake and breakfast option did the job for their group’s ridiculous appetites.

Crumpled papers were splayed out on their table. Luffy had spilled a bit of syrup onto one of his math packets and it was in the middle of being patted down with water and dried to be somewhat presentable.

Her best friend’s face was currently in the middle of short-circuiting. His attention was waning thin. Luffy’s lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed as he hunched over the papers in front of him, one fork in his hand with syrup dripping from a soggy slice of pancake.

Hoku continued to chew, sick of these studies herself.

“So the answer,” Luffy said slowly. He rubbed the scar beneath his eye. A dumb thing he’d gotten trying to impress a man beyond both their leagues. “Is nothing.”

Hoku snorted. “It’s infinity, dumbass. It never ends.”

“Are you sure?” Luffy said, squinting. “You’re pretty dumb too. I think there’s just no answer. Hey, hey, let’s just leave it blank and then—”

“If you don’t do your half of the group project, Nami’s gonna kick your ass and then she’s going to come after mine,” Hoku said, looking a bit pale at the idea as she slumped forward onto the messy table as well, using her mouth to grab the edge of a pancake off her plate and slowly chew through it. “Dun cwah meh duhm, duhmash.”

“Shishishi, but you are!” Luffy snickered, kicking his feet out and mimicking her position. “We’ll just pay Nami money not to kick our ass and we win!”

Hoku groaned around a pancake at the dangerous word. She made sure strands of her white hair weren’t getting caught in stray puddles of syrup, lazily tugging it back up into a bun. “We’re broke, dumbass. She might be willing to take an IOU, but she’ll collect someday and…”

Hoku whimpered, wishing she could shove her face into the stack of pancakes beside her. “I need a jooooooooob.”

Luffy chewed in front of her, shoveling more pancakes into his mouth. Unbothered. He usually got off on the occasional odd job and Luffy always just had this… way of making things work out when they shouldn’t.

The diner was cheap. So it’d been her source of nutrition the past couple of weeks—aside from Sanji’s loving meal preps and Nami’s fruits constantly being brought back to her dingy apartment. The horrible, cold truth was that her funds were low. Financial aid covered for her classes and materials fine, but existing outside of school came off her savings and odd jobs or freelance work she picked up here and there.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have taken two years off,” Hoku said, squinting at her stack of pancakes as Luffy reached over and started eating them. “Might’ve landed me a better job…”

“Nah, you needed it,” Luffy said simply. “‘Sides, you had tons of fun. You don’t regret it at all.”

Hoku whimpered once more. “Ugh, you’re right.”

Hoku only stood at twenty-one, two years older than Luffy—but after her third year of high school, she’d chosen to leave Japan after her graduation ceremony and head back to her hometown, a small place in Hawaii. She’d decided on a two-year gap, getting in touch with old family friends of her late parents who were essentially relatives and just taking some time to herself after everything and doing a little self-searching but…

Hoku had come back and managed to enter back into college without much of a hitch. She and Luffy were now on the same pace to graduating with Nami and Usopp—if he or she didn’t fail in the meantime—Zoro was going to school part-time for police academy training, Sanji doing the same for his culinary school and full-time position at his father’s restaurant and at least all her buddies were still in school aside from Robin and Franky and Brook.

To be honest, her life was going pretty well so far, aside from finances. It’d been almost a year now since her break-up and the two of them were still on amicable terms and checked in with each other regularly, her friends were healthy and in her life, Shanks and his team were out exploring some new island and there’d be an interview on it soon they could tune into…

Hoku was happy.

But school aside—she was still unemployed and poor. No new jobs had been coming her way as of late and even Law helping her land that job with designing that new program promotion his residency had needed was gone to her rent in a blink.

“Why don’t you ask Torao to help you get a job at his hospital?” Luffy said loudly. “You can be a nurse or something.”

“I’m too dumb to save people’s lives,” Hoku said flatly. “And I’m an art major. That’s like… Telling a cat to go fly.”

Luffy opened his mouth.

“Never mind, stop there,” Hoku shoved her face into the sleek table, smelling the old wood. “You also need credentials to work in a hospital, Lu. Should I find a campus job? There’s gotta be an opening somewhere… Maybe I can see if the amusement park needs caricature artists or something--”

“But you hate that kinda stuff,” Luffy complained. “It’s boring. You’re never supposed to do the boring stuff ya hate.”

“But I’m broke,” Hoku said pitifully. “Maybe my pride can suck up being poor…”

Hoku turned so her chin was flat against the table, looking thoughtful. “Maybe I can gamble my way to being rich…”

Luffy chewed with a little more thought, making a constipated expression—he was really thinking about something.

Her phone vibrated with a little jingle on the other side of the booth. Hoku turned it over, making a little happy noise. They could worry about money later. She hated thinking about this kind of stuff. “Zoro’s out of class. Let’s meet up with him and Usopp for that movie.”

“I feel like I’m forgetting somethin’,” Luffy said, making a face. “Oh, man… what was it…”

“Answer your damn homework and let’s go,” Hoku said, stuffing her leftover pancakes into her mouth and waving her hand to the owner for a check. “Cuh mown.”

“Nothing, right?” Luffy said, about to press his pen in.

“Infinity,” Hoku said flatly, grabbing his pen and scribbling the horizontal 8 in for him. “Never ends. That point is always stuck. Kinda like insanity.”

“Like how you’re crazy.”

“You’re crazy, crazy, now c’mon. Let’s beat Usopp and make him pay for snacks.”

Luffy stuffed all the pancakes into his mouth, rushing out the door with his cheeks full. Hoku slapped their money onto the table and ran out after him, shoving extra napkins into her backpack.

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Hoku stared at the last page of her canvas sketchbook with a reluctant frown, a small sigh slipping past her lips.

She’d tried to be as conservative as possible with all the negative space—but this was it. She went through sketchbooks faster than her small funds could afford, but she couldn’t help but always put aside a bit for her work—it’s what you love.

The rest of her art classmates were packing up their things for the day. Stools squeaked across the smooth floors. Easels or clipboards sliding back into place. The model at the center stood up, stretching her arms over her head as their professor instructed them on what to work on this weekend and to finish last assignments up. They’d just finished another open studio and there’d be a big project coming up soon enough… She was going to need to buy the new canvases and oil paints for that… Shit.

Her fingers twitched. Hoku couldn’t help but smile.

She loved what she did.

Even if you’re bad for my wallet.

“Looks like you finally need a new book,” Hoku’s smile dropped, fingers stopping at the edge of her book. The girl beside her leaned over, smiling, “You’ve been needing a new one, haven’t you?”

I don’t even remember your name. Hoku hadn’t bothered. She made a fair enough effort with remembering the names of her classmates, but this one in particular had made it clear where she stood. Wanted to be some high end artist—was on her way, probably, since she’d been showcased in several galas but—

The hidden hint behind her words was clear every time she spoke to Hoku. Blatant. A teasing curl of her lips.

“Don’t you think that’s sad?”

“You’re always using the front and back of each page,” she laughed. “I mean, the drawings are great, but you can afford a new one or two, right? I’ll donate one if you’re that prudent.”

A few eyes glanced over at the easy confrontation. Hoku kept her face even. After this semester, you won’t even matter.

“You can afford the tattoos right,” she continued with a light laugh, tapping the corner of her left eye where Hoku’s heart shaped tattoo was inked in around her eye, smeared at the end. “Just save a bit for a new sketchbook and some supplies while you’re at it. Got to keep up with your studies, you know?”

“I’m sorry,” Hoku said, it was actually starting to bother her now. “What’s your name again?”

Someone’s pencil dropped behind them. He stooped down to pick it up, hiding his face.

Her classmate’s face flushed red. Her eyes flickered, back and forth, assessing the reaction of the people around them. Barely anyone was watching—who cared? They were all here to learn and to hone their skills. No one needed more drama.

Hoku’s lips pulled into a polite smile, revealing baby canines.

“Come on,” she said, laughing with a titter, “It’s been half a semester. It’s—”

“HOOOOOKKKKUUUUUU—” Thin but muscular arms wrapped tight around her shoulders. Hoku floundered for a second, almost tumbling back over her chair at the added weight. The smell of the sun washed around her and Luffy’s hair tickled her cheek, pressing in close as he jumped around, almost ripping her from her seat.

Warmth pressed into her back. Hoku’s shoulders relaxed, everything cleared. Her lips turned upwards into a wide grin.

Luffy was a destructive, bumbling dumbass most of the time—but he could always turn a mood into a better one.

Shanks rubs off on you too much. She thought fondly, a bit of stupid smile curling over her lips. Maybe that’s a good thing.

“Hoku! Hoku! You won’t believe this—come on! Let’s get lunch, I’m hungry. I’ve got awesome news! It’s gonna blow your mind and—”

“Calm down, dumbass!” Hoku snapped. A few of her classmates looked on in amusement. The girl from earlier had already retreated, saving face. Wiser ones started to move their things out of the way. “You’re going to break something again!”

Her professor didn’t mind friends coming in and visiting or sitting in on lectures. But Luffy’s regular presence barreling through the art department was considered a public menace and had to be dealt with accordingly. “I’ve never seen anyone launch themselves off the second floor and bounce around the way he does, so for the love of god please keep him away from the ceramics class—”

“Did you just finish class?” Hoku said, adjusting herself to account for Luffy’s added weight. She walked with a backwards slump, leaning as Luffy dragged along the floor hanging off her while she gathered her supplies.

“Yup! Nami went to go get a table!” Luffy said happily. “Come on, come on, let’s go eat! I’m starving!”

Her stomach rumbled in agreement. Hoku pressed a warning hand to her stomach, using the other to shove her backpack over her shoulder and purposefully shove into Luffy’s cheek. “I’m hurrying, but what were you saying earlier?”

She shoved her stuff into her bag as quickly as she could, flipping her sketchbook closed and turning toward the door. Luffy was starting to clamber up her back and she wasn’t sure she could support him if he decided to test if she could give him a piggyback ride.

“Oh, yeah!” Luffy said, cheek squished against her knuckles. “I think I found a job for ya! And it pays!”

“You found me a job—”

Hoku’s foot tripped over the other, sending them both toppling to the floor in a massive heap of one screech and Luffy’s monkey-like laughter. A student quickly grabbed his easel, jerking it out of the way as they smashed into the ground.

“Shishishi, you’re such a klutz.”

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.

“If it’s Luffy, it’s probably some weird job throwing yourself off a cliff for fun,” Nami said warningly, neatly filed nails digging into the tangerine in her palm as she peeled it. “You guys are always talking about that explorer—what if it’s doing something illegal or—”

“Throwing yourself off a cliff and getting paid is fine,” Zoro said. He ran a hand through his spearmint colored hair, light catching off his golden earrings. “Just make sure you’re not secretly being employed for some kind of drug smuggling. You’re both idiots, so it’d happen.”

Luffy didn’t even look the slightest bit bothered, simply grinning stupidly to himself as he shoveled food into his mouth. Hoku—a little calmer and more sensible after stuffing her face with the cafeteria’s economically wonderful meal sets—gaped at the two of them in disbelief, blatantly offended.

The four of them were gathered in one of Grand College’s many cafeterias. Usopp was cramming last minute for another exam and should be running over any second. Hoku crossed her arms over her chest, shoving another forkful of pasta into her mouth. Nami leaned forward, setting a peeled tangerine down and smacking Luffy’s grabbing hands away as she set to work on another.

“I would not get involved in something like that without knowing,” Hoku grunted. Turning to Luffy she added, “If it’s drugs, I need to know how much it’s going to pay first.”

Zoro put her in a headlock, pointedly shoving her face into his chest where his nametag from his police training could smash into her cheek. Hoku’s arms flailed around, smacking into his cheek.

“Nah, it’s way better than any of that!” Luffy said, throwing his arms out in excitement. He stopped for a second. “Hey, wait, that sounds kinda fun—”

“Get on with it,” Nami and Zoro chorused.

Luffy grinned, turning to Hoku—who popped her head out over the top of Zoro’s tightened arm—with shining eyes. “Ace and Sabo are looking for someone to help them with this project!”

“Ace and Sabo?” Hoku’s eyes went round. A little box of memories peeled itself open, idle moments, pleasant laughter, warm memories wrapped around little flashes of awkward teenage encounters.

Hoku had known Luffy since she was a kid when his grandfather, a marine, had been stationed over in Hawaii at the time. Hoku’s parents had passed away a few years before that and after moving around, she’d spent some time with Mihawk until Garp swindled her into being looked after with Luffy…

She’d met Ace and Sabo young. When she was nine and they were ten--she remembered fighting all the time with Ace and Sabo being the genial, grinning mediator and those summers and years had been a great time and then she’d left to go live with Mihawk and eventually set up her own place. Their meetings were scattered in between coming to Luffy’s house with the three of them there after school—she and Luffy had gone to the same school for as long as she could remember—it’d gone on until high school, where meetings between them happened on occasion and then Hoku had left.

The two older brothers were great people—amazing even. Funny, easy to be around, always looking after Luffy first and foremost. She and Ace still butted heads and he could flip from a dotting older brother to an absolute menace but it’d been almost three years now since she’d last seen them.

Bright, golden blonde hair. Soot black waves. Hoku huffed over Zoro’s arm, resting her chin comfortably in the crook of his elbow. I wonder if they look any different… I think Luffy posted a picture not too long ago and they seemed well… She’d just never ended up getting in touch with them with everything she’d had going on.

It might be nice to see them again.

“I haven’t seen them in ages,” Hoku said thoughtfully. Luffy nodded his head so hard it almost snapped off. “How’re they doing?”

“They’re great!” Luffy said excitedly. “Never been better, and when they heard you came back into town forever ago, they’ve been saying they wanted to get in touch or somethin’ but they’ve been busy!”

“Your brothers?” Nami said, looking curious. “Isn’t Sabo working for that big designing company right now? The one that works with revolutionary protests through some of their lines?”

“Something like that,” Luffy said. “I never remember the name.”

“You never remember anything,” Zoro corrected. “I thought Ace was working part time as a firefighter. What kind of project would those two need help with? A fire proof line of clothes?”

Hoku looked interested. “That sounds kinda cool.”

Luffy nodded. Nami smacked the back of his head, urging him to continue. “Well, Ace does all kinds of stuff, but he models for Sabo’s work sometimes too. They’ve been doing a specific kinda work for some people.”

Luffy tipped his head to the side. His brows furrowed, crossing his arms over his chest in thought, “I think Sabo said something about… se… celery taste from one of their clients!”

“Selective,” Nami provided.

“Yeah, that! Anyway, one of ‘em wants something special done and Sabo remembered how good Hoku is with drawing and art and stuff!” Luffy said brightly. “I said you’re poor and you need a job—”

“Why’d you gotta say it like that, Lu?”

“And they were super excited and hoping you could help them out!” Luffy said. “See? It’s easy!”

“I’m not going to make your brothers pay me for something like that,” Hoku said, shaking her head in between Zoro’s arm. “They’ve done a lot for me before—they treated me like family when I was always bumming around at your place… I’ll just do it for free, what do they need? An ad? A—”

“Nono, dummy, they said they wanna pay ya because it’s a big job!” Luffy said. “It’ll take a lot of work or something and—ah! I almost forgot!”

Luffy grinned, shuffling around his pants’ pocket before he pulled out a crumpled, balled up paper. He handed it to Hoku, who reached around Zoro’s still loose and comfortable grip to fold it. “Sabo and Ace gave me this last week! It’s their numbers. Said to give them a call or text them if you were down to do it!”

“A week ago,” Zoro snorted. “Nice.”

“But I said we should all get together cause it’s been so long!” Luffy said cheerfully. He grinned, swinging his legs back and forth over the bench. “We can throw a party! Oh, man, we can make it huge and—”

“No parties until after midterms,” Nami said dangerously. “And whatever you decide, don’t forget we’ve got a girls day with Robin next week, Hoku!”

“Right, right,” Hoku said absently, staring at the two differently scrawled numbers—one in neat, even print and a more slurred, harder to read script. Ace and Sabo. “Well, I’ll text them and let them know I don’t mind helping out however. It’s the least I can do since it’s been so long.”

Hoku slumped, throwing herself half over Zoro’s lap. He shot her an unimpressed look and Hoku mimicked a limp fish.

“Maybe I’ll just work in the cafeteria,” Hoku said thoughtfully. “I can sneak meals and they’ll probably feed me too.”

“Sure,” Zoro said. “Like they’d let a klutz like you become a lunch lady. It’s bad enough that eyebrow freak cooks for anyone.”

Hoku made strangling motions at his neck. Zoro just shoved her face back into his lap, folding his arms on top of her head and yawning as she let out muffled screeches.

Luffy snickered. Nami finally relented and offered him a peeled tangerine. He popped it into his mouth and grinned, teeth shining and excitement bleeding into all of them.

“Oh, man, it’s been so long—this is gonna be great!”

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.

.

“Contributing to society yet, you unemployed bum?”

Hoku’s face shot up from the second helping of curry she’d been about to shove into her mouth without further consideration. Her face twisted, grumpy and angry—but only in the kind of way that came off as entirely defensive because the words thrown at her were blatantly true and painful, damn it.

“Hey, you jerk,” Hoku snapped, waving her spoon at the asshole in front of her. “When I start making it big, you’re going to eat those words.”

The currently sitting definition of tall, dark, and handsome. Changed out of his hospital gear and classical surgeon attire—because being a heart surgeon with an emphasis in being able to do surgery on just about anything else because he was a genius called for a lot of hours—and dressed in easy jeans and a black turtleneck. The fluorescent lighting of the homey curry restaurant caught off his slender piercing. His dark tattoos peeked out from the rolled up sleeves of his cuffs, the neatly printed letters staring back at Hoku as he held his too large cup of coffee—black as sin because he still had a shift tonight.

Hoku always had to wonder what his patients thought every time they saw DEATH staring back at them on the hands of their doctor before going under on the table. She got away with the snow white hair and tattoos because she was an “artist” so no one bothered her much.

Probably shit their pants. Or just cry.

Doctor Trafalgar D. Water Law did not look impressed.

“Maybe,” he said dryly, “if you don’t eat everything else first.”

Hoku flinched back as though she’d been struck. She shoveled more curry into her mouth, glaring hard at him from across the table.

“I keep asking myself why I hang out with you,” Hoku said. “You’re always taking your time and then when I think we’re going to have a nice time, you find some way to cut me open again.”

Law took a sip of his coffee, “You do it to yourself. And I hang out with you. Not the other way around.”

“That’s bullshit,” Hoku said around her spoon. “And ya know it, Torao.”

The two were about as far from each other on the spectrum as possible when it came to a small world. As a doctor and about three years older than herself—there could’ve never been an excuse for their paths to cross. It just happened one day that her art club had been assigned to help remodel and work with the children of their local hospital and overseeing the entire thing had been Hoku the klutz from her art club and Doctor Law, resident bachelor heart surgeon.

“You can’t paint monsters in the child ward, it’ll literally scare them to death.”

“Are you even listening to the kids? They want a wall of creepy and fun stuff so they can tell stories to each other.”

“You’ll give them all nightmares and it will reflect poorly on their health.”

“I’ll give them all a reason to run and they’re going to be dancing out of this hospital from how fit they are.”

And then there’d been a celebration party for finishing the joint project and Hoku drank a little too much—or maybe she’d just eaten something bad—and then she was throwing up on Law’s shoes.

Hoku had also been the reason why one of his buddies, Penguin, had managed to graduate in their shared anatomy class. Law was also fairly good friends with Kid—fairly because they always talked shit about each other but still hung out—and there’d never been a reason not to know each other anymore.

Besides, even if she told Law he was a bastard and this and that, she genuinely enjoyed his company. He was looking out for her here and there in his twisted, clinical, at times cold-hearted way.

“But no,” Hoku admitted bitterly, slumping back into her chair. Law leaned back in his own, satisfied as he threw one arm behind the chair next to him and watched her in silence. “It’s been months now and I’m just barely getting by on any project I can… Did you know I was thinking about working at the amusement park? Or the pier? I hate water. Why would I even want to spend more time there—”

“You’re afraid of water, you don’t hate it,” Law corrected. “It’s called aquaphobia.”

Hoku mimicked him.

Law kicked her knee under the table. She jerked it back in, nearly jostling their small little booth. Hoku and Law both grabbed their drinks to steady them.

“I mean, I’m not that bad,” Hoku rubbed her chin, shaking her head. “I think I’m one hell of an artist actually… I can go back into mechanics and pick up a job engineering for a while but…”

Hoku let out a small sigh. “No, that won’t work. It’s gotta be drawing after all.”

“Eustass-ya is coming back into town,” Law said, knowing what—who—mechanics made them think of.

Hoku looked up. Her face was neutral, amiable. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mentioned it,” he said. “Don’t know when.”

Hoku hummed. She played with a carrot on her plate and shoved it to the side. Law scowled. She grudgingly scooped it back up. “I’ll give him a call when he arrives. Maybe we can grab lunch or something.”

Law watched her over the rim of his cup. Hoku waved a hand at him. “We still check up here and there. I mean, when it’s not angry texting—but that’s all in good fun.”

Law’s brows creased in a suit-yourself sort of way.

“You can shift gears a bit,” Law said. “Get a teaching degree and why don’t you apply as an art teacher? You’d still get to do what you loved while working on individual projects. Quit when you’re ready.”

Hoku lowered her arms onto the table, her face a little more sober. “That’s… That’s probably the best idea, isn’t it? But I dunno… me? Teaching?”

Hoku laughed. She rubbed the back of her neck, dragging her fingers down the side and staring hard at her warped reflection on the metal table.

“I don’t think…” she said and stopped. Hoku shook her head, “I don’t think any parent would want someone like me teaching their kids.”

Law’s eyes flickered. His expression loosened, brows a little less furrowed, face a little easier to approach.

“Hoku-ya—”

“But you know what,” Hoku started up again brightly, eyes flashing in determination as she grinned, “there was this girl in my class today—making digs about this and that and just wait. I’m going to pick up an awesome job and come in with my regular gear because I’m not an idiot who blows her cash on fancy materials!”

Hoku’s chest puffed out in pride. She grinned, proud as a peacock and tipped her chin high in the air. “Long live homemade art materials!”

“You’re the only one who can get away with that,” Law said. “Barely.”

“I’m so confident I’m going to get a job,” Hoku said. “That I’m paying for dinner tonight.”

Law looked vaguely amused. He let his chin rest on his palm, watching her.

“So if I went ahead and ordered the deluxe beef curry set—”

“I,” Hoku said, using her best bluffing face, “wouldn’t even blink.”

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Law ended up ordering the set to-go. And paying for the meal—he simply stepped over Hoku’s embarrassingly fallen form when she tripped on her way to the cashier—and handed the food to her after dropping her off in front of her apartment before he took off for his night shift.

“Eat,” Law had threatened, rolling up his window and ignoring her cursing and ranting like she were no more than a fly at his car. “Skip meals and I’ll check you into the hospital myself.”

Hoku threw up both her middle fingers, stomping all the way to her apartment door for emphasis. Law’s sleek car waited in the parking lot until her door opened pointedly wide and closed before pulling off.

“I never skip meals,” Hoku muttered, shrugging her shoes off and hobbling into the living room after setting the food down on the counter. “I love eating.”

Her apartment wasn’t a grand thing, but it was a little more spacious for the great price she was paying. Banged up. Creaky pipes and floorboards—but it held, sturdy and true.

The two bedroom apartment had been shifted so one was her actual bedroom while the other was her studio and guest room—she usually ended up sleeping there when she was working late into the night anyway. Photos were thrown up left and right. Stacks of papers and sketchbooks were scattered all over the apartment. A massive poster hung over her bed of a certain red-haired explorer’s greatest and her favorite excursion.

A small television set and coffee table. A sectioned off kitchen with an island countertop. Her sleek, comfy leather black couch which was a gift from Mihawk—

Hoku flopped down onto the couch, sinking deep into the cushions. She let out one long, low groan.

I’m such a loser. Hoku pressed herself as deep into the couch as she could, willing it to swallow her whole and never let her see the light of day again. You were supposed to come back from those two years and be different. You haven’t done anything.

Her phone vibrated against her ass and Hoku lazily tugged it out of her pocket, half-throwing it toward her face.

“LETS TRY THIS PLACE IT LOOKS GOOD!!!!!” Hoku snorted at Luffy’s text, a smiling touching her lips and scrolling down. Usopp sent a photo of Zoro asleep on their couch. Training must be rough. Nami texted her a reminder to make a reminder in her phone for her date with Robin and the three of them. A notice from her professor about the material list for class next week.

“Heard things are turning up for you. Keep me posted.” Robin.

Hoku’s hand shuffled through her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the crumpled piece of paper and she carefully smoothed it back out, staring at the two numbers.

Honestly… she only really had good memories of Sabo and Ace. Well, when she and Ace weren’t butting heads or strangling each other about something. Luffy loved them as much as he could love anyone, so they’d always been important people to her too.

Grade school, middle school, high school… Hoku rifled through the mess of memories. Coming over to their house. Running from their grandfather. Crowding by a television. After school runs to the best food stalls… all just classic, simple memories.

Hoku pulled up an empty message, typing in both numbers into a new group chat. Her fingers hovered over the letters, contemplating the kind of greeting that should’ve fit a gap this long… They couldn’t have changed too much, right?

Hoku typed, deleted, re-typed for several minutes before finally hitting send and dropping her phone onto the rug, rolling over and burying her face between the couch cushions. A minute, two, her shoulders went slack and she finally fell asleep.

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Another minute. A beat.

Her screen flickered to life with a response. A calm ten minutes later.

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Hey, Ace, Sabo!

It’s Hoku—haha, it’s been awhile, huh? Sorry for being so shitty at staying in touch. Hope you guys are doing well! Are you still holding the three of you guys together? Ace haven’t lost his head yet dropping dead somewhere? Lu says you guys have been busy.

He finally gave me your numbers and mentioned you had a project you needed help with. Don’t worry about paying or anything, I’d be happy to help out! You guys are like family, y’know? I don’t know how much I can do, but let me know. Let’s catch up. :)

Changed at all?

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.

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Hoku,

It’s so nice to say your name again after so long! Took Luffy long enough. It’s been ages, hasn’t it? Ace and I are better than ever, well, trying at least. I’m so glad to finally speak with you again after all this time. I hope your trip was everything you needed and now you can enjoy a long stay back home. I could go on forever, but let’s save the rest for in person, shall we?

Yes! I’m not sure how much Luffy told you about it, but we’d love to discuss with you further. Face to face. When is the soonest you can meet? Ace is asleep right now, but I’ll let him know as soon as he wakes up. The lug.

Hope to be in contact with you soon,

Sabo.

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Two minutes passed and a second message was sent, accompanied by a warm, smiling face.

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Haven’t changed a bit. Missed you, Hoku.

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Shit. Hoku exhaled, adjusting her tote bag over her shoulder—Luffy had bought it for her on a random splurge, dotted with stars. Her head tipped to the side, as though looking at the beautiful building would change what she was seeing.

A few people walked past her, offering strange looks.

The dessert restaurant was famous. Newly opened, lovely. Two floors with nothing but booths overlooking the city and cozy cafes where people could gather to enjoy all kinds of sweets—for those not as inclined to sugar, they had an array of sandwiches and anything to all varying tastes.

Hoku had been eyeing this place for months now, enviously searching through images online or drooling into her pillow as she scrolled through food bloggers. She and Nami and Robin were supposed to finally try it next weekend when Robin came back from her latest trip…

Lucky me. Hoku whistled, shaking her head as she stepped up to the patisserie and opened the door with a gentle jingle of the golden bell on top. Now I get to go twice.

She’d woken up, creases in her face from where she’d shoved herself between the couch cushions, to several new messages. The only one that’d stood out, neatly typed in a way most people would never text like a letter, and addressed with his name since she didn’t have his number already saved—

Sabo.

Hoku had stared at the message with wide eyes, not quite believing what she was seeing, drool dried to her chin. Hoku’s eyes had brightened and she’d quickly responded, getting even a little excited because—it was Ace and Sabo—they were good friends. I missed them.

It was supposed to be nice--reconnecting with people you hadn’t seen for a long time.

Hoku’s eyes searched the crowds of people gathered together, focusing on the host stand. A host stand for a bakery, damn. Hoku seemed to be on the lesser scale of dress—high waisted shorts with her halter top tucked in—but I’ll be alright. The entire first floor could be seen from the second story where people could make reservations for secluded booths to enjoy their sweets and tea. We should be on the first floor...

Hoku stopped short. She stood there in the middle of the bakery, face calm.

I mean they… Hoku’s eyes slowly scanned over the crowd one more time, doing a thorough comb over. They can’t be… that different right? Am I crazy?

She stopped at every blonde and black haired male, craning her head, shuffling around the bakery and trying to peek around to get a look at different faces. Trying and failing to be as discreet as possible. No freckles. No scar on the left side of his face. Nothing.

Hoku shuffled through her bag, fishing out her phone.

Right time. Hoku checked the message thoroughly. Right place. Meet here… there aren’t any other instructions. Am I just first?

If she remembered right, Sabo was always so punctual… Hoku made a face, turning around on her heel. Should I just go get a table? I’ll just go get a table—

“Excuse me miss, are you looking for your party?”

Hoku’s phone slipped like butter through her fingers. Her foot shot out, trying to catch it and she almost toppled over completely, grabbing the nearest chair and steadying herself.

The host who’d approached her looked horrified, as though he’d almost witness an apocalypse occur right before his eyes.

“Hi,” Hoku said. A few people were looking. She bent down to grab her phone, shoving it into her bag. “I—what?”

“Your party,” the host repeated kindly. “With a Mr. Sabo, correct?”

Hoku stared at the host with round eyes.

He smiled, “He told us to look out for you. He’s already waiting at the table if you’d like to follow me, miss.”

“Oh,” Hoku said dumbly. She straightened out, staring at the host like an idiot. “I… I didn’t see him. Where is he?”

“This way, miss,” the host gathered up a menu and began his ascent toward the steps.

Hoku stared at the stairs. Stairs led to a second floor. The second floor was a fancy floor.

Hoku pressed her hand into her mouth, staring.

Maybe it’s the wrong Sabo?

“Would you prefer the elevator, miss?” the host said, looking worried. “Forgive me—”

“No, no, no, stairs are fine!” Hoku quickly scampered after him. The host smiled, leading the way up the winding staircase the short distance to the second floor. “I just—I thought he was on the first floor. Sorry. Thank you for your time.” Stop talking, you dumbass.

The host continued to smile, leading them past a narrow walkway of several private rooms and booths. You can see everything from here. Hoku eyed the bottom floor, wondering if anyone had watched her flailing around like a mouse. Or a fish. Or just an idiot in general.

They walked a short distance, coming close to where part of the second floor was sectioned off against the railing of the top floor. The other half of the floor opened up with wide glass windows, showing the entire city and the bay across the distance.

This is so nice. Hoku glanced around in disbelief. I can’t imagine the price tags up here, gotta tell Nami and Robin.

A single booth sat at the end of the walkway, pushed to the back. A perfect vantage point of the entire first floor and the breathtaking view on the side—

Golden blonde hair fell a little longer now. It still had its wavy sort of curve, kissing the sculpted, angular line of his jaw. His eyes still had that soft little light to them, curious as he surveyed the menu in front of him. His skin was fair, a burn scar over the left side of his face, around his eye. There was a larger one hidden beneath the neat, cream dress shirt he wore inside a dark, navy blue sweater.

He looked older—more mature, a redefined version of himself, as though someone had simply adjusted the resolution of a good photo, complimenting what already was. Dapper and gentle and charming all at once—

But still, maybe, the same after all.

“Sabo!” Hoku’s eyes went wide, an easy grin touched her lips and she strode forward. Hesitancy lined the back of her steps, careful. Even if we got along fine and were pretty close, it’s still been awhile and—how do you do stuff like this again?

His eyes flickered upwards immediately, finding her with perfect ease. They went a little round, brightening in an instant. His lips turned upwards into one bright, warm smile.

Some small part of Hoku quieted. His eyes were warm, almost hot. He was looking at her like finally, finally, something had fallen into place and it was all right—

Hoku balked for a second, uncertain. Her heart warmed at the sight, a flood of pleasant memories and—

And what?

“Hoku!” that’s really his voice. It’s been so long. Sabo stood from his seat, stepping around the table into the walkway. The host behind them set the menu down, backing off so they could be alone. Hoku almost reached out to grab his arm and ask him to stay, just to have another person here because—why would you do something like that, you’re so weird, it’s just a reunion with someone you haven’t seen in awhile—

Sabo’s shiny loafers stopped a few feet from her. His arms had been raised for a second, but his face quickly shifted with obvious hesitation, waiting uncertainty. His lips pursed, waiting in that dorky expression of his. Brows a little furrowed. Hoku stood there like an idiot, telling her mind to shut up and—

Hoku let all other thoughts melt away. It was Sabo. She knew Sabo. She knew him when he was missing a tooth. This is Luffy’s brother. He’s practically family. She gathered her footing beneath her, steadying.

Hoku stepped into his embrace, meeting him the rest of the way. Sabo’s entire face lit up, eyes warming.

It was a ridiculously...nice feeling, to be looked at like that.

Her arms came around his middle and Sabo’s arms instantly wrapped tight around her in a bear hug, wrapping around her shoulders and holding her snug. He almost lifted her off her feet. Hoku laughed, patting his back as Sabo held her tight for a moment, the smell of his cologne washing over her, smelling like something expensive and roguish. He laughed back into the crown of her hair, air ghosting past her ears as he moved his head to the side then, right by her ear.

“Hoku!” Sabo said. “It’s been so long! It’s so good to finally see you-—look at you! You got taller!”

“Says you,” Hoku snorted, pulling back a bit so she could crane her head up to his face. Her ear twitched. Sabo laughed, loosening his grip around her so she could shift more comfortably in his arms. “Look at ya—who said you could grow this tall, you jerk?”

“You look absolutely wonderful,” Sabo said graciously. Hoku stiffened in surprise. She shuffled a bit backwards and Sabo quickly released his hold on her, letting her back out of the hug. “You do! You let your hair grow out—it looks beautiful.”

“No, I just,” Hoku stopped, pressing a hand to her mouth in surprise. “I forgot how you were. You’re always saying stuff like that—caught me off guard, ya bastard.”

“With a compliment?” Sabo laughed, a warm, breezy kind of sound. Hoku’s lips pulled up at the corners. “You deserve dozens more with how long it’s been.”

“You look great!” Hoku punched his chest lightly with a fist. Sabo grinned boyishly, beaming down at her. “All dressed up too—couldn’t beat that royal look out of you, could you?”

“Decided to embrace a different kind of style,” Sabo chuckled. “I’m not missing any teeth this time, right?”

The image of a beaming, grinning blonde boy with scuffed up shorts, a creased hat and a gap where his tooth was missing—Hoku’s smile widened. Yeah, that’s right. This is Sabo.

Sabo took a moment to look at her, as though he were seeing her again for the very first time. Hoku’s nerves rattled for a second, a chill racing down her spine. You’re just nervous. Calm down, you dumbass. His face visibly softened. The chill disappeared. Eyes warm, he clasped his hands together in front of him.  

“I’m glad you’ve been well,” Sabo said softly, smiling. “It really is nice to see you again, Hoku.”

“I’m sorry I was so bad at staying in touch,” Hoku said, brows furrowing. “I should’ve called once or twice to check up on you guys… Luffy told stories every now and then and I guess that always seemed enough.”

“No, we should’ve made more of an effort on our part,” Sabo said. He guided her to the table and Hoku slipped into the seat in front of him. His fingers gently glided over her arm, over her skin, smoothly taking her bag and hooking it over the back of the chair. Hoku blinked, realizing she hadn’t even known that he’d been getting her bag—

For a brief moment, Hoku stilled. A force of habit. It only lasted a second, anyway.

Sabo’s frame towered over her. One hand resting on the edge of the chair where he was releasing the bag, the other steadying himself on the table but—

You’re boxed in.

And then Sabo was gone and she was free and Hoku relaxed even though she never should’ve been tense in the first place.

“I’m sorry Ace couldn’t come, he wanted to see you too,” Sabo said, pulling away with a frown. “He had an important shift today so he couldn’t get off.”

“We can definitely meet up again,” Hoku said surely. “With Lu next time too, catch up like old times. I want to see more of you guys for sure.”

Sabo smiled at her—it almost made her feel as though she were being praised for something. She’d said the right answer.

“Things just got so busy with work and you were in your third year,” Sabo said. He took a seat beside her, brows creased apologetically. “You were seeing someone at that time too, weren’t you? Relationships, school, it all gets so hectic.”

“That’s… yeah, that’s right,” Hoku blinked in realization. Sabo folded his hands together on top of the table, expression soft. Understanding. Kid and I were together and I was focused on spending time with everyone before I left and then….

Had she just forgotten about Ace and Sabo? Enough to not even give her best friend’s brothers a proper goodbye—

“That’s no excuse though,” Hoku said, brows furrowing. Had that really been what happened? Holy shit, Hoku. They’re like family—how could you do something like that? Kid had taken up a lot of her time sure, but she’d wanted to spend that time with everyone because she was going to be gone for so long. “Shit, I’m sorry Sabo—”

“Don’t even think about apologizing,” Sabo said, shaking his head sternly. Hoku’s lips pursed. “We could’ve called you just as easily as you could’ve called us. It’s a two way street. No one needs to apologize here.”

Even if you say that, I’m still going to make it up to you guys. Hoku huffed, leaning back and crossing her arms over her chest in thought. “Doesn’t mean it didn’t suck.”

“Maybe,” Sabo said, a light chuckle. He looked so happy. It was hard not to keep staring at him, to feel happy herself. Infectious. A waiter came and swiftly left behind two steaming mugs and Hoku looked up in surprise. “Sorry! I took a guess at the menu—I’ve never been here before and I got what they recommended and looked the best…”

“No—you’re fine!” Hoku pulled the mug closer to her, eyes growing wide. She instantly grabbed for some sugar cubes and Sabo looked amused. “This is their apple tea, right? Ah, I’ve been wanting to try this, nice call.”

“Thank goodness,” Sabo seemed to deflate in absolute relief, melting down into his seat. Hoku snorted, staring at him in disbelief. “Sorry, I got worried for a second I ordered something awful--still like apples, huh?”

“Enough,” Hoku said. “My favorite is still—”

“Longan,” Sabo said.

Hoku blinked in surprise, looking up from the steaming cup in her hands.

Sabo smiled. He pulled his cup—coffee or an espresso by the smell of it—closer toward him. Sabo reached for the sugar jar. “I always think about you when I see them in stores—it’s such a weird fruit to choose to eat on your own, so I remember the time you had us all try it and—”

“Lu choked on the seeds,” Hoku’s lips curved fast into a grin, “I know what you mean. I always remember random things because of people too. You start to link people up with the stuff and places in your life.”

“Exactly,” Sabo said with a warm smile. He dropped a cube in, picking up the small spoon and starting to stir, slow and easy. “Come on, tell me all about it—how was everything? Luffy said it was something like a… soul searching experience?”

“Sort of,” Hoku laughed, pushing her hair back over her head and holding it there for a second. The apple tea smelled amazing. “I wanted to get in touch with some old family friends, help fix up the town I was born in… just spend some time there. It’s home, you know?”

Sabo looked openly curious, taking a sip of his coffee. “Are you thinking of settling there?”

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Hoku shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “Settling is a tentative word anyway. I love it here to much and all my friends are here, you know? I like my apartment and what I’ve got going fine.” Just minus a steady income.

“That’s true,” Sabo said, looking thoughtful. “There’s just so much here… It’d make more sense.”

“Mhm,” Hoku said. “But it was nice. I needed it. It helped me with a lot of sorting out and growing, I think.”

“The growing I can agree on,” Sabo said warmly. Hoku made a face. “You’re lovely, Hoku. You’ve always been.”

“Stop,” Hoku laughed, wrapping her hands around the cup. It warmed her palms. “I mean, I can talk about my trip and stuff, but what’s been going—”

“Wait,” Sabo said, looking surprised. “You said apartment—are you living off campus?”

“Yeah, like Lu,” Hoku said. “They’re apartment was too crowded, even though they offered a room, so I found my own place.”

“Ah,” Sabo said. He dropped another sugar cube into his coffee. “With your boyfriend?”

Hoku smiled softly. Her eyes dropped down to her tea, staring at the murky red color. Nowhere near the bright, flaming red— “Your hair’s like hot cheetos.” “Keep talking and I’m going to shove you out of my car.”—“Ah, no, nothing like that. Just me. We actually broke up about… a year ago now?”

Sabo’s face shifted instantly. His brows creased, spoon pausing in the air. Apologies flooded his eyes, mouth opening in quick understanding that he’d just asked something like that—but Hoku waved him off, shaking her head and hand in turn. “No, no, don’t even start. We parted on good terms. I was supposed to only be gone a year, but I decided to stay longer and we had a bit of a falling out and yada yada.”

Hoku smiled, earnest, “But we’re still good friends. No drama or anything.”

“Still,” Sabo said, brows creased, looking ashamed. “I’m sorry for asking so insensitively like that. You don’t just go barreling through past relationships—sorry, Hoku. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories—”

“There aren’t any,” Hoku said.

Sabo dropped his spoon into his coffee, starting to stir again, slow, “That’s good. It seems like you both handled it well, then.”

There really weren’t. Even with all their fighting and butting heads, they always sobered up and acted out of each other’s best interests when it came down to it. He’d wanted her to come back—come with him—and she hadn’t known what she was looking for—

Don’t think about that now. Hoku shook her head. This is a different occasion.

Hoku’s mouth opened, eager to shift gears—

“Why’d you decide to stay the extra year?” Sabo questioned, stirring absently. Hoku looked up. Her tea was starting to cool enough now so that it wouldn’t burn her tongue.

“I just realized a year wasn’t enough to find what I was looking for,” Hoku said. “It got hard, making the decision cause I missed everyone so much, but it was a good one. I think it helped.”

Her gut twisted. Had it? She might’ve had a great time—gotten to see Shanks with his surprise stay, Mihawk came and they explored the island her mother had loved, her friends visited—but had it? Here she was now, still moving through life, still going about things but had it—

Changed anything?

Hoku thought about the lack of jobs. Thought about Law’s suggestion to switch gears. Am I even doing things right? Kid slipped into the back of her mind. Yeah, they hadn’t ended on bad terms, but had her decision even been a right one? Had there ever been a reason for them to—

Quiet black gloves, a soft underside of leather, touched her hand. Hoku jumped, eyes dropping down and realizing she hadn’t even noticed Sabo’d been wearing gloves. That’s new. Her eyes flickered back up and she realized his face was creased in worry, eyes watching her openly. “Hoku?”

Shit. “I’m sorry,” Hoku said, pulling her hands back. Sabo’s hand dropped onto the table and he glanced to it for a moment before looking back to her. Hoku used one hand to grab her cup, the other pushing her hair back out of her face from habit. “Got lost in thought—what’d you say?”

“I’m just glad you’re back,” Sabo said. He pulled his hand back, letting it rest in his lap as he brought his cup back to his lips. “Hopefully to stay. Have you had a chance to do everything you’ve missed since coming home?”

“Oh, plenty,” Hoku said, slumping in relief at the change in topic. Think happy. Think Sabo. Don’t worry about the other stuff. He doesn’t need that. Or deserve it. “The lot of losers has been making sure I do.”

“I can imagine with them,” Sabo said, looking amused. He let his cheek rest onto one hand, using the other to twirl his cup. “Luffy always talks about you guys when we meet up. Took him long enough to finally get us in touch again.”

“That’s right!” Hoku clapped her hands together. Sabo blinked. Smiling like a lost puppy. “The whole reason for this—Lu said you guys needed help with a project right? What is it? I don’t know how much I can do but I’ll try my best—”

“So you only came today because of that?” Sabo mused, tipping his head to the side, resting on his hand. Strands of wavy blonde fell a bit onto the side of his face. “I thought we were catching up.”

Hoku paled, her jaw went slack. “No—oh my god—no. You guys don’t have to pay me—I won’t let you pay me. I just wanted to help—”

Sabo’s laugh broke through. Breezy, curling past her ears. Hoku stumbled over her words, stopping as his gloved fingers hid only parts of his bright smile. “I’m sorry, I’m just teasing. You’re still so easy to tease.”

Hoku’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. She settled back into her seat, rubbing the top of her head. “Ah, jeez. You’re awful, Sabs.”

Sabo’s smile widened behind his fingers. His eyes were impossibly warm and Hoku stopped, staring. “What? You keep looking at me with that dumb smile—”

“I was wondering if you’d call me that again,” Sabo admitted, eyes softer now, still so, so warm.

Hoku blinked. She laughed, “You could’ve just asked. I’m sure other people call you that too. You’re so weird.”

“Maybe,” Sabo agreed, looking amused by her choice of words. “Hoku, what have you been up to aside from—”

“No, wait,” Hoku waved her hands, halting him.

Her eyes were on the table. Sabo’s eyes flickered briefly. He pulled his hand away from his mouth, adjusting his comfortable position to sit back in his seat. Hoku glanced back up to him to see a patient smile. It’d felt like the poor guy had to direct this entire conversation, Hoku didn’t even realize how much he was guiding it.

“The project,” Hoku said. “That first. I keep getting all twisted up with you. There’s too much to talk about. Let’s do that first.”

“Alright then,” Sabo said, a little laugh to his words. “It’s… Well, it’s less of a project and more of a personal request from a client of ours for a… specific piece of artwork.”

“That seems simple enough,” Hoku said, her hands curling around her tea to finally take a sip. “But last I heard, you and Ace are doing different kinds of work—is there a reason why they went to you?”

“There is,” Sabo said with a nod. He reached a gloved hand out across the table. Hoku blinked, curious, but Sabo waited patiently.

Hoku pulled her hands away from her tea. She limply poked Sabo’s gloved hand. The blonde laughed, shoulders shaking with the motion. “No, see, I’m not sure if you’re familiar or if Luffy told you, but I’ve been working with a designer company for a long time now. A close coworker and friend of mine designed these.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Hoku said, feeling a little stupid. The brand was labeled neatly, tucked away to not be too flashy on the inner seam of the glove. “Liberator, right? So the client met you two from this?”

“Catching on quick,” Sabo praised. Hoku’s cheeks flushed a bit and she rubbed the back of her neck. Sabo smiled warmly, “Sure enough, both of us are nowhere near a more… artistic sense of experience. I’ve been working and Ace models from time to time, but our client approached us from that line of work. We’ve been helping them out with their requests and they had a more specific one this time. They wanted a portrait. Or a series of them, to keep.”

Sabo sighed, leaning back in his seat. He laced his fingers together over the table. “It had us both stumped for awhile, to be honest. It seemed doable, but we didn’t know who to go to for something of this nature—but then we remembered Luffy mentioning you were back and town and he said you’ve been running into awful luck with work—”

Hoku sank lower in her seat, “How much did he say about that?”

Sabo’s face didn’t hold a hint of judgement. There was a fond sort of pity and understanding, he winced on her behalf, “You seem to be struggling quite a bit financially is what we got from it.”

Hoku grumbled to herself. Damn it, Luffy and your dumbass, big mouth. “Listen, it really isn’t that bad—”

“Don’t worry,” Sabo said, “I won’t pry. I want to. But I won’t. It’s not fair to come barging into your life after all this time and tell you whatnot just because.”

“I know you guys wouldn’t mean it like that,” Hoku said, feeling horribly touched at his words. And… relieved. He’d said exactly what she’d been hoping to hear. “You just care. You guys have always been sweet on those you care about.”

Sabo rubbed the back of his neck this time, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing like that—”

“No, no, it is,” Hoku said. “But anyway, forget about money. Keep goin’.”

“Well, it still has to do with money, actually,” Sabo said. “We both wanted you instantly because we love the way you draw—you’ve always been amazing at it, no matter what it was.”

Hoku’s chest flooded with unrestrained pride. She sank lower into her seat, covering her forehead with one hand and biting her lower lip. “I—I still have a lot to work on—”

“Hoku, look at me.”

Hoku followed the instruction, startled.

Sabo’s face was stern. His eyes held her in place, brows creased in that little way to show how earnestly he meant what he was about to say. “Hoku, you’re an amazing artist.”

Hoku grabbed her tea cup. Sabo opened his mouth, eyes flickering quickly with something—but she already brought it roughly to her lips, a bit sloshing over as she took a long, hard sip—it was delicious—and swallowed.

A bit dripped down her chin. Hoku laughed, a little too loud, flustered and embarrassed and yeah, it’s nice to hear all that but it doesn’t make it any less—I dunno. She was always shit at stuff like this. “Okay, I get it, you like the drawings—what’s the job—”

Sabo’s expression looked lost for a moment. Hoku blinked, realizing he seemed entirely zoned out. His eyes were following something on the corner of her chin and Hoku stopped, quickly rubbing at the tea that’d spilled down her chin—

“I’m sorry,” Sabo said, blinking back into focus. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face for a moment and then smiling at her. “I didn’t catch that. I lost my train of thought this time.”

“No, you’re fine,” Hoku said. “We’re even now.”

Sabo stared at her for a second before he said, a bit soft, “You’re awful at listening to directions, aren’t you?”

“A bit,” Hoku said. Sabo’s fingers curled around his cup.  “Keep going about that client. Needed an artist. What’s next?”

“Ah, yes,” Sabo folded his hands back together onto the table. “Well, we figured we were killing two birds with one stone by asking you. Help you out with your situation, and secure the piece we needed for this request. We’ll need you twice a week for an entire month, starting as soon as you can. It’ll only be in the evening, and we can work around your school schedule, but when you come in, how long it runs for may vary each time. We can supply any materials you’ll need, canvases and all, and all you’ll have to do is just draw.”

“That sounds…” Hoku said, “Really well-thought out.”

Sabo smiled, “We tried to be thorough with our planning to make sure everything went smoothly.”

“I… I don’t see any reason why not,” Hoku said, blinking. “You just need me to draw specific pieces—what is your client looking for? It sounds like there’ll be a model or a specific scene in mind. And honestly, Sabs, don’t even worry about the payment—I’d just like to help you guys out.”

“I have to insist you take the pay,” Sabo said, shaking his head. “It isn’t coming from Ace or I, honest. It’s directly paid from the client. And I have to say, they do pay rather handsomely.”

“Then you guys should keep the money,” Hoku protested. “I really can’t—”

“You’re the one doing the work,” Sabo said. “I have to insist.”

“But if they’re a friend of yours, I don’t want to make them pay,” Hoku said. “It won’t be too much trouble. I might not even be up to their standards—”

“Our business is strictly professional,” Sabo reassured. Fingers folded neatly together, sitting on top of the table. “You can take the pay, it really isn’t—”

“I’m not going to do the job if you guys are gonna pay me.”

Sabo stopped. Hoku’s face was set, stern. Sabo stared at her for a long, long minute, hands still folded so neatly in front of him and eyes quiet—

Sabo smiled, his face was playful, “Still as stubborn as ever.”

“Enough about money,” Hoku said. I’m sick of thinking about it, honestly. “What are they looking to have drawn? It doesn’t sound like it’s something off the top of my head. What’d they have in mind?”

“Ah, well,” Sabo looked a little thoughtful this time, contemplative. He seemed to be working through his words before he faced her evenly, an air of professionalism coating his friendly demeanor. “I don’t doubt your skills in the slightest, Hoku. I remember you’ve always been fond of drawing people too…”

Hoku waited, holding her cup in her hands. I’ve been taking forever to drink this thing. I keep getting distracted.

“I have to ask though,” Sabo said, “are you well acquainted with drawing anatomy?”

“Sure,” Hoku said, the cup at her lips. She’d assistant taught an anatomy drawing class. “All ranges. You’re right, people are usually my go-to for focus.”

Sabo leaned forward onto his elbows. His hands were interwoven together, placed over the lower half of his face. His expression was neutral.

“Nude models as well?”

Hoku nodded, not missing a beat. She’d dealt with the initial embarrassment of drawing nude models years ago from earlier classes. At the end of the day, it bled into a kind of intrigue to figure out how well you could draw people, at their rawest, at their most bare—it was intimate, and you wanted to make it beautiful. They all had the same body parts at the heart of it—when it came to her pencil and paper, there was nothing else to think about except the drawing. No strings attached.

I mean, Hoku felt an inch of heat creep up the back of her neck. It colored the top of her ears. It’s not like I’ve never been naked with anyone before… either…

Sabo watched her over the top of his fingers.

“I won’t scream or run out of the room if I see boobs or someone’s junk,” Hoku said flatly. Sabo’s lips turned up at the corners, holding back a laugh. “I’ve done nude shoots plenty of times, so don’t worry about that.”

“That’s good,” Sabo said, “See, our client is looking for something of a more… intimate nature.”

When you’re undressed like that in front of anyone, it’s already something intimate. Hoku nodded, following along.

“It’ll be an entirely private affair,” Sabo said evenly.  “Closed quarters. Our clients are trusted people. Strictly business. You won’t have to worry about having your name attached to anything either, unless you’re particularly proud of a piece and want to use it for anything.”

His reflection in the dark cup of coffee couldn’t be seen, less than half full. Hoku’s reflection warbled back against her tea.

“You’ll only have to draw,” he said. “The time frames will range though, forgive me on that.”

Hoku shook her head, “You really have nothing to apologize for, honestly.”

Sabo smiled over the top of his hands. “There won’t be any given cues. They’re looking for something… natural. Whatever catches your eye in the moment it all happens, you choose what you’d like to draw. Whatever stands out to the artist should be worth something, after all.”

Free reign. Hoku nodded thoughtfully. She’d done some works like this before—almost like hiring a photographer, but looking for someone to draw it instead.

Sabo let out a loud sigh. Hoku looked up, curious. His shoulders had slumped, face visibly relaxed as he offered her a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. Working this out with you has lifted a huge weight off my shoulders. You have no idea how much you’re helping us out with this. We… we really needed the help.”

I’ll do my best. These guys have always been nothing but kind to me. Hoku straightened.

“When do you think is the soonest you can start?” Sabo questioned.

“Whenever!” Hoku said eagerly. “I’m in school Monday through Thursday, but classes end way before the evening. I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

“Today’s Wednesday,” Sabo pulled out his phone, opening up his calendar. “Will Friday be too soon? The timing is perfect since it’s the first of the month…”

“No, that’s totally fine,” Hoku said, nodding. “I can do Friday.”

“I’ll text you the time and address then and further information,” Sabo said cheerfully. He turned his phone over face down onto the table, focusing back on her. “You can send me a list of anything you might need and we’ll have it ready.”

“I have a lot of my own supplies,” Hoku said. “Maybe just let me know if there’s specific size or style your client is looking for. Charcoal, ink, graphite—”

“Classic pencil should do,” Sabo said easily. “They’re not too picky.”

“Will the client be the model?” Hoku said.

“Ace, the client, and myself,” Sabo answered cleanly. “Poses will range. The entire thing will be a bit like… a simulation, if you will. If there was a moment where something stood out and you couldn’t capture it, we have cameras recording in the room on all sides, so just let us know after it’s done and we can send you the tapes.”

Ace and Sabo… Hoku’s brows furrowed. Her gut shifted a little. That… That might get a little weird, won’t it? Drawing them naked is kind of weird.

“We really needed the help.”

“Will any of that be a problem?” Sabo asked gently, brows furrowed in worry.

Hoku’s stomach twisted a bit more.

You’ve drawn your friends in all kinds of ways before. Hoku reminded herself. You helped your classmates with their own projects—you’ve drawn people you know really well nude and different and all kinds of different things—it’s just that. No strings attached. It’s not really intimate at all.

“None at all,” Hoku said.

It was just another job. Pencil and paper. Nothing more.

“And Hoku?”

She looked up. Sabo’s face was earnest.

“If there’s ever a moment where it’s too much, you want to quit, or you just don’t feel comfortable,” Sabo said gently. “You can leave whenever you want. We understand. If you can’t handle it, don’t worry. It’s completely up to you.”

“Can’t handle it?”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” Hoku said, ignoring the old, bitter memory. The tightness around her throat. The sound of water rushing all around her. “Don’t worry.”

Sabo smiled.

.

.

.

Hoku flopped down onto the train seat, knocking her head back on the reinforced glass. The business man beside her didn’t even look up, eyes falling heavy with sleep. Same, man, same.

She shouldn’t be tired. The rest of the meet-up went… amazingly. They stopped talking business and just caught up like old friends. Hoku laughed a lot, ate a lot, constantly being fed this and that as Sabo ordered with reckless abandon—“But it all looks so good!” and when she’d tried to run to the cashier to pay because that’d been her plan all along—she was left staring at the smiling host from earlier as he held up Sabo’s sleek black credit card.

To be honest, she’d felt completely and utterly spoiled. A feeling that always had her on edge and made her feel funny because—I don’t deserve shit like this. Sabo had kindly offered to drive her home, but she had to put her foot down there—and even then that’d been a fight until Hoku had just booked it to the station, waving over her shoulder at a laughing Sabo left behind.

“We’ll meet up before the session starts on Friday with Ace to finalize some things.” Hoku lazily tugged out her phone, scrolling through the new messages. “Give you guys plenty of time to catch up and then get right to work.”

One month. Hoku pulled up her calendar. Aside from school and the impulsive or random hang outs with everyone—ah, gotta drop off food for Law—she had nothing planned. Because you’re an unemployed loser.

She could do this. It seemed easy enough. The only thing that didn’t sit right with her was the nature of how Ace and Sabo would be, but it was possibly they wouldn’t even be nude. Maybe someone wanted a beautiful drawing with two handsome men—yeah, I can do something like that.

It gave her something to do. Keep herself busy. Even if she didn’t take the pay, at least she’d be working.

A notification popped up and Hoku paused for a second before sliding it open. The photo opened up from the art platform she used to post new works and keep herself posted with—

This month’s. Working on the next.

His work was edgy. As always. The sleek slabs of metal had been made to look a chrome silver—they caught off the light, reflecting back the opening jaws of a monster made of his own creation but—

It was awesome.

Hoku stared at the new project. The train rumbled beneath her feet, shifting occasionally.

“Stick to your cars.” Hoku typed out finally, posting the comment with a face. She looked forward, the train fairly busy with other people all heading home from long days and late shifts.

She needed to get moving too.

Her phone lit up in her hands. Hoku smiled, pulling up the message. Luffy’s eager voice through the texts bled through instantly.

“HOW DID IT GOOOOOOO????”

“GREAT.” Hoku typed back. “GONNA HELP THEM ON FRIIIIIIDAAAAAAAY.”

Incoherent, misspelled words came back. Hoku stared, waiting for something to understand until a video was sent. She glanced around, lowering her volume in case and opening up the video.

The camera was violently shaky. Luffy was obviously running—his feet the only thing in view. The phone lifted up to where Zoro and Usopp were lounging on the couch and it looked like Sanji was in the kitchen—

“GUYS!!!!” Luffy’s voice shouted. The man beside her jumped. Hoku winced. “HOKU’S GETTING A JOB! SHE’S NOT A LOSER ANYMORE!”

Hoku slapped a hand over her mouth to stop her laughter. Usopp fell off the couch, startled from his doze. Zoro tipped his head back. “Bust out the booze.”

Sanji popped out from the kitchen, looking hurt. “Hoku honey, I said you could work at our restaurant—”

The video cut out with Luffy shoving a thumb up into the camera.

Hoku smiled, staring at her screen for a long time, holding it in front of her.

She could do this.

She had to.

.

.

.

“We’ll meet an hour before the session starts.”

Hoku stepped into the sleek, polished elevator. The apartment complex was unnervingly nice. She remembered muddy hills. Dangerous forests. Creaky houses and three loud boys. This—one of the clearly nicer apartment buildings in their city—wasn’t what she was used to seeing. Ace and Sabo were clearly doing really well.

“We’ll be doing this at our apartment. This is the address and the code. We have a… studio of sorts for this type of work. Everything will be prepared beforehand so don’t worry about having to arrange anything.”

Hoku adjusted the collar of her blank white t-shirt, tucked into the waistband of her light washed jeans. She pulled her bomber jacket tighter over herself. Her bigger canvas bag was slung over her shoulder, all her supplies shoved in.

“Is there a certain way I should dress?”

“Perhaps nothing too… flashy? Just make sure you’re comfortable. No real dress code. You’ll be working for what might be several hours.”

Hoku’s fingers reached out, pausing at the button. Ninth floor.

Nine wasn’t a really lucky number by her books.

“Our client has already been informed, so don’t worry about anything. You’ll need to stay on the quieter side though, if that’s alright. Your station is positioned nicely in the room so you can move and get whatever angles you need.”

Hoku hit the button. The floor numbers lit up as the elevator lifted her to the apartment.

“We’ll start officially at nine.”

The wall gave way to glass. Hoku glanced to the city lights, flickering and shifting across the streets.

“You can have a moment to do anything you need before we begin. We won’t be able to stop once we start.”

The doors to the elevator slid open. Hoku stepped out, realizing with wide eyes that the entire floor was reserved for a single apartment. How big is this place?

Double doors waited at the end of the hallway.

Hoku shifted her bag and walked toward it, humming a bit to herself. Wonder if Ace is still annoying.

“We’ll walk you through anything else before we start. Answer any questions.”

Hoku stopped in front of the pearly white doors. She stared at it for a second, the tune dying on her lips. Something churned in her gut. A funny feeling.

It’s just another drawing session.

“Thank you again, Hoku. You don’t know what this means to us.”

Hoku knocked firmly against the door. She waited, shoving her hands into her pockets. This’ll be good for you. You need this change of pace. And besides, you get to do it with two good friends—

“You’ll be helping us, a lot.”

Hoku heard muffled footsteps on the other side of the door. A lock, two, slid out of place. The door opened inwards and Hoku looked up.

Eyes like charcoal. A little gray—almost silver in linings. A constellation of light freckles dusted over his cheeks. Sun-kissed skin. Soot black hair that framed the sharp line of his jaw and the familiar smell of something smoldering—like burning pine or with a little more bite to it—

Still a little roguish looking, wild. Still had that grumpy crease to his brows—

Portgas D. Ace.

Ace stared at her for a second and then promptly shut the door in her face.

Still a little piece of shit—

“What’s the password?” Ace said, muffled behind the door.

Hoku snorted. She kept her hands in her pockets.

“I guess I’m not wanted for the job,” Hoku answered. “Thanks for the interview anyway—”

The door swung open. Ace’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of her jacket just as she was turning. Hoku choked, arms flailing as she was roughly tugged back into the entrance of the apartment.

Ace’s bare foot shot out around her, kicking the door closed and twisting one of the locks between his toes—what the fuck you actual monkey—and then he was turning her around to face him.

Hoku spat her hair out of her mouth. Staring.

He had a shirt on for once. Tucked into a pair of black jeans.

That stupid, boyish grin split across his face, showing his always oddly sharp canines and making crinkles show up around his eyes. That dumb, happy, dorky grin—

Hoku’s heart did a funny thing, the kind of thing that reminded you just how much you missed someone and hurt you for not making an effort to see them sooner because—

“Hey, shooting star,” Ace said, voice deep and light all at once, clearly filled with mirth, “How’ve you been?”

“Hey, dumbass,” Hoku said, unable to stop the wide smile on her lips and not even trying to. “Been awhile, huh?”

Ace’s face soured at the name. He grabbed the back of her head, shoving it straight into his chest. Hoku let out a muffled squawk. Her hands shot out, smacking at his arms, but Ace promptly clamped them down firmly in a bear hug around her and lifted her off her feet. “I think you forgot who you’re talking too. Who said you could get that cheeky, huh?”

Hoku let out muffled curses against his shirt, getting a mouthful of cologne and cotton. Ace turned around, about to haul her out of the entryway until Sabo’s head peeked around the corner.

“At least let her take her shoes off,” Sabo said. Ace looked down to where Hoku was already struggling to shove her sneakers off with the other foot despite her constrained form. “You know how she is about that.”

“I have to make up for two years worth of contact,”Ace said simply, without any regret. “It starts now.”

“Make sure you let her breathe first,” Sabo said, amused. “Or you’ll lose her before that.”

Ace relinquished his hold. Hoku almost fell back, tripping over her shoes still half on her feet. Ace grinned, a deft finger sliding through one of her empty belt loops and stopping her from falling onto her ass. He tugged her back onto her feet and Hoku shot both hands out, steadying herself. Her eyes darted around, frazzled and flustered for a second before her face shifted into a deep scowl.

“I don’t miss any of that,” Hoku said darkly. “No wonder I never reached out to you.”

“No, you’re just awful,” Ace said. “Look at you. You look like you’re about to cry. Should’ve called if you were going to miss us that much, shooting star.”

“I look like this because I almost died from cotton suffocation,” Hoku snapped. Ace used one finger to dig something out of his ear, turning away from her. Nope. Didn’t miss him at all. Not one bit.

Hoku thought about tumbling down hills and climbing up trees and their stupid faces popping into classrooms and--

She sniffled. Nope. Not one bit.

“You’re still as grumpy as ever,” Ace said. He yawned, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Sabo said you got nicer, guess he was wrong.”

Hoku tossed her shoe at the back of his head. Ace yelped, turning around with wide eyes and grabbing the back of his head in pain. “You hit me!”

“I’m about to kick your ass too,” Hoku said, waving her other shoe.

Ace’s lips split into a wild grin. He turned, raising his hands to tackle her. Hoku readied her shoe, taking in the healthy, lively look in his eyes and the bright teeth and—

Her shoulders couldn’t help but slump a bit. Her brows softened. “You look good.” I’m glad.

She and Ace had always butted heads the most. Fought the most. Tousled with each other the most—but Ace had also been the one she couldn’t help worrying about from time to time because he’d been such an angry brat as a kid and—

Ace looked as though she’d slapped him silly. He stared at her, jaw stupidly slack and then his cheeks flushed a dark red. He slapped a hand over his mouth, stumbling back one step and fumbling for his words as he rubbed the back of his neck furiously.

“You can’t just say stuff like that,” Ace said hotly, “Aw, jeez—you’re cheating—”

“You’re such an idiot,” Hoku laughed, dropping her shoe and stepping into their apartment.

See? Hoku let any lingering, stray doubts fade away. Easy and comfortable. You’re going to be fine.

Immediately the space opened up to a massive living room. A shining coffee table in the center, sleek and new. Windows opened up to a massive view, curtains currently pulled open to showcase the entire city. A long, comfortable looking couch and a separate recliner. A book shelf, neat and organized. Sabo. A shiny new television screen and set and the space opened up to a massive island that shifted toward a giant kitchen—

“How much are you guys making?” Hoku squawked. Sabo chuckled and Ace grinned, crossing his arms over his chest with a puff of pride. “What the hell happened to leaking ceilings and broken drywall—did you rob a bank while I was gone?”

“Being awesome pays,” Ace said with a cocky grin.

“Our work leaves us comfortable,” Sabo said. He appeared at her side, clad in a navy blue turtleneck and black pants. He set down a pair of house slippers for her and smiled up at her. “Seems like you two are already catching up like you’d never left, and I hate to interrupt…”

“Ah, shit, it’s already almost time,” Ace glanced to his watch and back to the door. “Good thing we got everything set already.”

Sabo nodded. Hoku stepped into the slippers. Nice fit. The blonde offered to take her bag, but she waved him off. He curled his fingers back to his chest, looking amused.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Sabo offered kindly. “Take a seat on the couch, we can go over last minute details before we start.”

“No, I’m fine,” Hoku said, swatting Ace’s hands away when he playfully tried to herd her toward the living room. Sabo’s eyes flickered above her head toward Ace and Hoku made her way gingerly toward their living room. “Thank you though.”

“Take your jacket off if you’d like,” Sabo said. “The room might get a bit warm.”

Her jacket was making her a bit more comfortable, if she had to be honest. Purposefully not doing it seemed a bit rude to a second kind request from Sabo though. Hoku dutifully started shrugging it off and she almost jumped when two hands came on either side of her arms, pulling her jacket away from her with a gust of warm skin and heat.

“Still as jumpy as ever,” Ace said above her, teasing.

“Think I can’t take off my own jacket?” Hoku said, pointedly shoving her arms the rest of the way past his fingers.

Ace snorted. “You trip over air.”

Hoku scowled, turning away as her fingers slipped from her jacket sleeves. Ace pulled it away, watching her back.

He handed it to Sabo, who took it with nimble fingers, folding it once and laying it over the back of one of the dining chairs.

The long, leather couch was tempting, but Hoku wisely opted for the love seat placed in front of the coffee table beside the gas powered fireplace. Ace took a seat on the couch, throwing one arm casually behind it and getting comfortable while Sabo walked over to the two of them, taking a seat beside his brother as he set two water bottles down.

“I brought my bigger sketchbook,” Hoku said. “Just in case. But Sabs said you guys had the drawing table set up so I’ll work directly onto the paper and just let me know if your client wants it finalized on a better sheet.”

Ace took one of the bottles, unscrewing the cap. His eyes turned sideways to Sabo, “You two already went over everything, right?”

Sabo nodded, crossing one leg over the other and folding his hands together on top of his knee. “For the most part. You remember everything I told you, right Hoku?”

“Read it over a couple times just in case,” Hoku said. She ticked off her fingers. “Quiet as a mouse. I’m no more than just an observer after all, right? Pick a shot that stands out the most to me and draw that. There won’t be any guidance. Keep it all confidential for the client’s and your guys’ sake. Comfy clothes…”

She’d already silenced her phone. Pulled her hair back into a ponytail to maintain an air of professionalism for their client…

Sabo smiled, lids a little low, pleased. “Good job, Hoku.”

Hoku smiled idly at the praise. “Nothing to give me credit for—it’s a job. It’s the least I should do.”

Yeah. Hoku thought resolutely. You can do this. You’re helping a couple friends out.

Ace watched her over the top of his water bottle. His eyes traveled down the half-heart tattoo over her eyes, dipping to where her t-shirt showed a bit of her collarbone where a smattering of petals were tattooed over her shoulder.

“Any new tattoos?” Ace questioned curiously. Sabo glanced to him, pausing mid-way to grab his bottle.

Hoku didn’t look up from checking her materials in her bag, “Maybe one or two. You still got that gang of yours on your back—”

“Our client should be here in a few minutes,” Sabo turned to Ace. His brother’s expression shifted briefly before settling, head dipping a bit in a nod. “I know you’re a bit behind on catching up, but that is your fault for forgetting to call off.”

“It was last minute!” Ace complained.

Sabo glanced to the expensive looking watch on his wrist. He slipped a thin, flat looking box out of his pocket and casually pressed a button, watching it for a moment before he put it back into his pocket. Ace’s eyes flashed back to him briefly, but his attention swung back to Hoku, whose face had turned a bit constipated as she held up her phone.

“Sorry,” Hoku said, a bit sheepish. “Uh, blame Luffy?”

Ace grumbled without real menace, folding his arms across his chest. Sabo smiled well-naturedly, turning his focus back to Hoku.

“As I said, we already briefed our client on everything,” Sabo said. “So don’t worry. She won’t be surprised. You’ll be in your space and we’ll be in ours and you just have to do what you need to do. Don’t worry about anything that happens either—t’s all been discussed. Just focus on what you’re doing.”

Hoku felt the curiosity from earlier stir. She set her bag down on top of her lap. Ace tipped the bottle back, taking a long swig as his adam’s apple bobbed with a swallow. A bit of water dripped down his chin, past his throat.

“You said it was like a simulation,” Hoku said. Sabo waited, listening, “Is it… Is it going to be like acting something out? Like a play or a scene she’s looking for?”

“You want to see for yourself?” Ace questioned absently. Dark eyes watched her over the top of his bottle, clashing with his light voice—

Sabo shot Ace a chiding look, lined with a bit of bemusement. Ace shrugged.

Hoku’s eyes were on her memo book, scribbling a note to herself in. Look for a good moment. “Hired an artist, not a model.”

“Mmm,” Sabo rubbed his chin, curling his fingers beneath it as his eyes flickered in thought. “Acting something out… You could say it’s something like that. As I said before, it’ll be on a more intimate affair, so I hope you won’t be startled—”

“I won’t,” Hoku promised. She’d already braced herself by going over old sketches of different poses and angles in her nude studies and drawing sessions—she was expecting some of the ‘worst’ in a sense, and reminded herself that it was just—

Another drawing.

Even if you know these guys like brothers, she thought a little limply. Just wash it out of your brain later.

“Perfect,” Ace said simply. “Then there shouldn’t be anymore problems, right? Let’s get started.”

Sabo shot him an amused look. Ace clapped his hands together, locking them behind his head in an easy posture. Hoku nodded, gathering up her bag. “Lead the way—”

“Hoku?”

Hoku stopped. She looked back up at Sabo. “Yeah, Sabs?”

Sabo’s lip twitched. Something flickered through his eyes, concealed beneath gentle amusement and a hint of fondness. He leaned forward, making sure their gazes met.

“I just wanted to remind you again,” Sabo said, warmly, he seemed to wait a bit. Hoku turned fully to face him. He continued, “If any of this seems too much for you or gets too uncomfortable—we can stop. We don’t want to ruin anything or make things weird if this makes you uneasy—”

“I’ll be fine,” Hoku said, smiling brightly. “Don’t worry.”

“If it does get too much though,” Ace added. “Maybe hold off on saying anything till after. I dunno if Sabo told you yet, but it’s hard to stop once we get started—”

“Don’t worry,” Hoku repeated, shaking her head. “It won’t.”

“Then,” Sabo said smoothly. He stood up to his full height and Hoku adjusted her bag. Her eyes dropped to his hands, realizing he was wearing gloves indoors—for the drawing session? “Any other questions before we start?”

Hoku ran over all the instructions twice. This whole thing seemed a little more edgier than she was used to, intimately professional. But it was just another drawing session at the end of the day, right?

Sabo walked around the coffee table, even steps stopping beside her. He lowered a hand to her back, guiding her toward the hallway politely. Ace remained on the couch, watching them with half-lidded eyes as they turned toward the specific hallway—

Hoku snapped her fingers, looking up at Sabo. The brothers turned to her curiously.

“I know you said I had free reign,” Hoku said, eyes wide with realization. “But is there a specific… I dunno, look she might be going for? A moment in this whole thing I should pay attention too or keep an eye out for…”

Sabo tipped his head to the side, considering his answer. Ace tipped his head onto the back of the couch, fingers laced behind his head.

A slow, lazy smile curved over his lips. His canines peeked through. Ace’s expression was satisfied and amused all at once—as though he’d just told the greatest joke in the entire world.

“Probably,” Ace said, “the climax.”

.

.

.

The room—the studio—was massive.

The entire room fitted like a master bedroom. It seemed the entire apartment had several different rooms, using up the large amount of space granted by being the only room on the entire floor of the complex high rise.

Fitted with only two doors—the one they’d entered through and another door on the right that seemed to lead into a bathroom. The room itself was wide.The walls were wood and dark in color. Low, warm colored lights were fixed into the ceiling.  Sleek wooden floors fitted with a nice looking rug right in front of the main attraction.

A single bed.

A big bed. King sized. Plush, neatly folded duvets and silk sheets. It was a dark red in color, not too bold or flashy, prominent. It didn’t stand on a classic bed-frame, instead, raised up from the ground with a wooden step that went around it, making the bed seemed fixed into the floor. A dark, leather cushioned headboard sat behind it, tucked beneath heavy pillows.

There was a lounge chair in the opposite corner, a fancy looking recliner. Night stands were nestled on either side of the bed. One more beside the chair.

Paneled sliding doors to the left promised a closet. Hoku was still taking in the entire show of the room because—it was kind of daunting, really. She tried picking out with a more eager eye good angles, the colors contrasted darkly and richly, so she’d have fun with shading and contrasts but—

Intimate. Hoku thought about Sabo’s description. Definitely seems to be the right word.

She couldn’t help but wonder if this was the classic go-to for all their shoots. She kept calling it a room in her head because it’s what it looked like—but Sabo had said it was studio. It was possible they moved it around and changed it to whatever they needed to fit their client’s demands.

Her work station was nestled in the corner of the room. Almost it’s own little world. It was quite a good distance from the door. Sleek desks arranged for maximum workspace, though humbly recluse from everything else in the room. There were folded up light fixtures and equipment Hoku recognized for photoshoots propped up in case she wanted to change anything. Her work space was a very, very nice looking drawing table, fitted with a light and grooves for her materials, a slot for the paper and—

Hoku stood behind the desk, setting her things down. She played with the back of the chair—it was a roomy thing, arm rests. Wheels on the bottom so she could spin and move it around—

“Perfect view,” Hoku realized, staring at the bed from where she’d be sitting. Of everything.

She glanced up to the ceiling, noticing what looked like paneled boards. Light fixtures behind them? Hoku turned her head, noticing the reinforced hook fixed into the center of the bed’s ceiling. They must move things around after all for different shoots—

“Are you all set up?”

Hoku jumped, nearly knocking into the desk and falling over it. Her head snapped over her shoulder and Sabo blinked in surprise right behind her, pressing a few gloved fingers to his lips. “Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“No, you just—” Hoku shook her head, laughing a bit as she tugged a quick hand through her hair. Sabo’s eyes followed the action briefly. “You’re like a ghost. I didn’t even hear you.”

“Ah,” Sabo’s lips turned upwards in amusement, lowering his hand beneath his chin. “I know what you mean. Ace and Luffy are always so loud, it makes you seem quieter than you are.”

“You look comfy,” Hoku said, eyeing the dark navy robe Sabo had changed into. Kept the gloves on though.

“I’m used to this,” Sabo said with an easy smile.

“Seems like it,” Hoku agreed, taking a seat in the chair. She adjusted it briefly, spinning it around once. Sabo’s brows quirked, looking as though he were trying to hold back a laugh. “Neat studio you guys have set up here. You’ve got a whole thing going, huh?”

Sabo hummed, playing with the back of her chair. “When it became apparent we’d be doing this fairly often, we figured it was wise to make the investment.”

“Private modeling sessions,” Hoku mused, leaning back in the chair. Sabo crossed his arms over the back of the rest, leaning his head onto them as he watched the top of her head. “You know, considering how good looking you guys are, I bet companies would be paying big bucks to have a couple sessions.”

“How much would you pay?” Sabo questioned behind her.

Hoku pursed her lips, pretending to think deeply on the subject. “I doubt I could even afford an hour.”

Hoku laughed, smoothing out her paper and leaning forward toward the desk. She tugged out her pencil case, flipping it open. “My art teacher would kill to have you sit in for a class—”

Her chair shifted. Sabo had pushed it forward a bit. The desk came close to her, not touching, but keeping her nestled tightly between the wood and the chair behind her. Hoku’s hands instantly shot for the edge of the desk, catching herself briefly—

“For however long you’d like, whatever you’d like, a session for you,” Sabo said, his voice was light, breezy. Easy. Not a hint of anything else. There would be no reason for there to be anything else.

“Would be free.”

Sabo’s shadow was light against her desk. Hoku stared at it for a moment, feeling strangely, quietly—was that feeling even really there? Did she really feel that for a second? No, no you didn’t. Why would you feel like that when—

It’s just them.

“So then,” Hoku said, turning her head over her shoulder with a grin. “I could have you two dressed up however and in whatever ridiculous pose I wanted—”

“I do look better in colors that compliment my hair,” Sabo said cheerfully. “And I like—”

“Navy blue,” Hoku jutted a pencil at his robe.

Sabo’s smile was so bright it almost hurt to look at. Something funny twisted in her gut. “Ace will be coming in with our guest in a second, remember everything I told you?”

“Mhm,” Hoku nodded. “You won’t hear a peep out of me. Won’t even be here.”

Sabo fondly ruffled the top of her head, “Good girl.”

Hoku scowled, swatting at his hand. Sabo chuckled, pulling away from her chair while giving it a bit of a spin as he walked from her station toward the bed. Hoku couldn’t help but hope he at least had something on under that robe because—

Luffy, this might be one of the weirdest things I’ve ever done but I swear to god I’m washing it out of my brain when this is all over. Hoku turned her eyes to the paper, already starting to sketch out the design of the room since she’d be aiming for something to take place on the bed. I’m going to do everything in my power not to have to draw your brothers’ dic—

No, don’t even worry about it. Hoku shook her head. No other thoughts. They’re just bodies. You just draw. There’s nothing else involved in it.

Easy.

The door clicked open.

Sabo turned slowly, standing directly before the bed.

Hoku looked up.

She was lovely.

Long, dark hair curled into waves against her back. Her nails were neatly done, manicured and colored like wine to match the tight, form fitting cocktail dress that showed off all her curves in all the right places. Her skin was a light, healthy tan. Her body was nice. Hoku could see what angles she should draw from immediately from how well her legs moved, long and lovely beneath her dress that barely hit her mid-thigh—

Her lashes were long and curled. Her lipstick matched the color of her dress. She looked older—probably somewhere around Law’s age. Ah, but his type is far away from women like this—

She stepped further into the room. Hoku realized she was still wearing her shoes—black heels, strapped up to her ankles. Her head held high. She walked with purpose. Hoku instantly felt a clear wall erected between them—Hoku was Hoku—this lady, this woman, was exactly what girls aspired to be. Beautiful, mature, seductive.

Sabo offered her a warm, polite smile. The woman’s eyes lowered, half-lidded and dark. Hoku watched her throat quiver with a swallow. Her pretty nails tugged at the hem of her dress briefly. Sabo hadn’t even moved.

The air in the studio shifted. It felt heavy.

Hoku held her pencil loose in her grip, uncertain for a moment, waiting.

“You’re late,” Sabo said, politely, “Hotaru-san.”

Hoku only froze for a brief second. That weird flinch you did sometimes when you thought someone was about to say your own name.

Hotaru’s lips pursed. Full. She bit her lower lip, eyelids fluttering and then her gaze turned quickly to Hoku.

Hoku flinched, gripping her pencil. Should she introduce herself? Thank her? Greet her? Her eyes darted to Sabo in a moment of panic, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off Hotaru.

“You don’t have to speak to her. Or interact with the client. Just do what you need to do.”

Hotaru’s face shifted. Clearly unhappy. A pout followed on her lips and Sabo looked amused as she strode further into the room. Heels clicking against the wood. Hoku waited with her pencil ready, a little nervous until she spotted Ace stepping into the room right after her, still in his clothes from earlier.

The door closed behind him with an audible click. His fingers smoothly twisted a lock into place.

Hotaru shuddered at the sound, breathing a little heavier.

Hoku swallowed. She hovered over her paper. Ace’s dark eyes caught hers from her station and he offered her a small smile, throwing her a wink.

Her shoulders slumped in relief. Hoku forced herself to relax. That’s right. They said it was like acting—they’re just models. You’re just drawing. Don’t worry about anything else. It’s just a job.

What are you getting so nervous for?

“You didn’t say she was going to be a girl,” Hotaru said finally. Her voice was high, her lips pursed in annoyance. Hoku’s eyes went round in worry. Sabo tipped his head to the side and she strode forward toward him, hands on her hips. “I told you how I—”

“You didn’t even take your shoes off,” Sabo said. Hotaru stopped completely in her tracks. His voice was even. Calm.

It could be heard.

“She was that eager,” Ace said behind them, walking forward with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Hotaru’s face flushed dark in embarrassment, mouth opening and closing. “Came rushing right into the apartment.”

Ace stopped right behind her. He kept his hands to himself. “Why don’t you tell Sabo what you asked me to do when you came in, hmm? How I took off your jacket. Where you wanted to do it because you couldn’t wait.”

Sabo took a seat onto the edge of the bed. It’s risen level still left him lowered, but it didn’t feel that way at all—

A throne.

Hoku’s fingers twitched. This is a good shot—should I draw this? Her eyes flickered to her paper, ignoring the sweat that had gathered at the back of her neck. The nervousness that tugged at her fingers despite how steady she held her pencil.

It’s like acting. It’s a roleplay. They just need to get in character. The client must want something like this—

Hoku swallowed.

How… How far is this going to—

Sabo set his gloved hands on either side of him, leaning back onto his hands as he watched Hotaru in silence.

Hotaru bit her lower lip. Her cheeks were flushed a dark, cherry red. She turned her head to Ace and then to Sabo and she quickly spat out, “Fine—Fine, I don’t care. I just—Sabo, please—”

“Take your shoes off.”

Hotaru flinched, looking desperate. Ace didn’t move an inch, face set into an easy, uninterested look. Sabo didn’t seem interested in repeating himself a second time. Hotaru floundered for words.

Sabo smoothly slid out a thin, rectangular shaped box from the pocket of his robe. Hotaru shuddered, eyes growing round and fixed entirely on that little box.

Sabo set it calmly at his side, moving his hand from it.

Hotaru bent down. Her fingers quickly worked at her heels, tugging desperately at the straps and chucking her heels into another direction of the room. Ace looked amused behind her and Hoku’s eyes followed the heels, sketching them into the corner of the image. Giving herself something to do.

“You just have to watch.” She paused at the memory of Sabo’s words. “Closely. Pick which scene you think will be the best.”

Hoku’s brows furrowed and she hesitantly looked back up.

“There,” Hotaru said. She took a few steps and then she hit the floor on her hands and knees. Hoku stared with wide eyes. The woman crawled forward, her tight dress hiking up higher on her thighs with each movement. “I did what you asked, Sabo.”

Sabo remained silent, perched on the bed in front of her. Hotaru crawled up onto her knees in front of him and Hoku darted back to the paper. This isn’t a bad shot. Shows power and an attempt to overthrow. But Ace isn’t doing much in it—

“Look at you,” Hoku looked up at Sabo’s clear, resounding voice. It was directive. Her eyes dropped to Hotaru who bit her lower lip, eyes needy as she gazed at Sabo.

He kept his hands at his sides. Those blonde locks fell a bit into his eyes, framing that sculpted angle of his jaw.

He looked completely and utterly—

In control.

Hoku held her pencil tight, chanting a mantra in her head.

No one is even naked yet. She reminded herself. You’ve drawn worse before. This is some… powerplay or something. It’s an act. Calm down. Why are you—

“All worked up?” Sabo questioned lowly.

Hoku flinched for a second before she relaxed. He’s not talking to me. I don’t exist right now.

He raised a hand. Hotaru’s eyes followed every movement eagerly. Gloved fingers curved beneath her chin, raising her head up to look at him. “You normally put up such a fight. I could touch you and you’ll just roll over, won’t you?”

Hotaru’s eyes flashed. Her cheeks flushed but her hands rushed forward and Sabo’s eyes darkened. She fumbled for the bind holding Sabo’s robe together, pushing forward on her knees toward him. Her breasts pushed up against his legs.

Sabo simply watched in silence, as though he were watching a child try something in vain. A hint of amusement in his gaze. It was—

Condescending.

“Aren’t you the same though?” Hotaru said hurriedly. She tugged Sabo’s rope free and she pushed aside the folds of his robe. “You’re acting all calm and collected—but, but you want it too, don’t you? Look at you!”

Sabo’s chest opened up. Taut muscles. A defined ridge. Hoku’s eyes couldn’t help but move to the inch of his side that was exposed. His scar peeked through. Her heart clenched for a second at the memory of how he got the horrible burn—

His muscled abdomen dipped. Hotaru was almost panting at this point, eyes desperate as she fumbled around, licking her lips and the folds of his robe moved apart and—

Hoku’s eyes dropped down and she balked.

She’d drawn people nude dozens of times now. She knew what belonged where. She wasn’t—she wasn’t a virgin. She wasn’t bumbling and stuttering and a blushing idiot when she saw these things—usually when the pencil was in her hand and the paper beneath her—her mind even became almost clinical. It was another limb. Another part to draw—

Memories rushed forward. Her throat went dry. Hoku’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and her eyes instantly trained themselves hard on her paper, refusing to budge.

But this was—but he was—that—

Her gut twisted sharply, unsettled. Hoku’s throat went dry. She kept her eyes on the paper, on the paper—

“You won’t get freaked out or anything right?” Hoku flinched. But this is different. This feels—

Wrong. Weird. Private. Intimate. Imposing. Intruding.

She… She knew Ace and Sabo. She’d played with them as kids. Had funny, weird, awkward moments when they were teenagers—seen them with missing teeth and dumb grins—

But this is different.

“See?” Ace’s smooth voice, teasing, flooded the room. “She can’t even handle it.”

Hoku’s head snapped up instantly. Her cheeks hot but—No, no, that’s not it. I’m sorry, I’m not freaking out—

Hoku froze. Ace’s eyes were on Hotaru, a smirk on his lips. Sabo looked vaguely amused, leaning back on his hands as Hotaru panted on her knees in front of him, hands on his thighs and—

It’s just a drawing. Hoku said. She shut her mind down. Shut everything else out. You took this job. It’s not weird. It’s human. It’s intimate. It’s a scene. It’s like a play. Just draw the scene. Just draw. She gathered her footing back beneath her.

Hoku turned her eyes fully onto the scene unfolding in front of her.

Sabo’s length stood out from the folds of his robe. Hard. Erect. Revealing the muscled, toned top of his thighs. Hoku refused to study it in any more detail, keeping her eyes trained on Hotaru’s face. Hotaru shuffled forward, pressing herself flush between his legs. Sabo’s expression didn’t even flinch or shift. Neutral.

Professional.

There. It’s just another… Hoku’s neck felt hot. She felt a little queasy. Don’t think about whose that is. It’s just another body part.

“See?” Hotaru said breathily, lashes fluttering. “Look at you, baby. Look at how hard you are for me. This did something for you too, didn’t it? You liked this.”

Sabo watched her. Expression void. His eyes were dark and Hotaru pressed a kiss to his thigh. “Normally I have to work so… so hard to get you like this for me… I knew I did something for you. Aren’t I a good girl?”

Hoku’s gut twisted.

Sabo’s erection was hard. Swollen at the tip. Ramrod straight. Hotaru pressed another kiss to his inner thigh, as though seeking permission. Sabo didn’t even flinch despite the physical reaction, expression calm and collected. His lids were lowered, eyes dark and unreadable from where she was.

“You’re so big,” Hotaru said. Hoku’s ears went hot. Please stop. Oh my god. “So thick. You’re perfect, Sabo. I want it so bad. Please, let me make you feel good—”

Her hands inched up his thighs. Sabo watched in almost cold silence.

“What did it?” Hotaru panted. “The dress, baby? The shoes? The hair? I tried to do everything you told me to—was I too bad? What’s getting you off this time? What’s turning you on that I didn’t do before—”

Ace’s hand shot out like a snake. He fisted a handful of those thick, curly locks, tugging back sharply.

Hotaru yelped. Hoku jumped, almost hitting her knees into her desk. Her heart raced in her chest.

“Look at you,” Ace chuckled, dark, throaty. Hotaru moaned, hands flying up to where Ace held her by her hair. “Who said you could run that filthy mouth of yours? You’re so desperate, aren’t you? Crawling all over him like that—you’re dying for it.”

“Please!” Hotaru pleaded. Her cheeks were hot. She tried to turn around to Ace, hands flying to the button on his jeans. “Please! Touch me—anything—please! I’ll be good. I’ll do whatever you want—”

Ace let her get far enough to unbutton them. She unzipped his pants, trying to pull him free from his confines.

Her work stationed seemed miles away and still not far enough. The room was hot—the air was heavy.

Should I be doing this?

Her eyes dropped to her paper.

“We really needed the help for this job.”

Job. It’s just a job. It’s an act. Job. Job. Job—

“Look at me.” Hoku’s pencil almost slipped against the papers. Sabo’s voice left no room for disagreement and she glanced up.

He’d thankfully readjusted the folds of his robe. Leaning forward with one elbow on his knee. His gloved hand covered the lower half of his mouth, holding it there as he watched Hotaru in heavy, shuddering silence.

Hotaru watched him, chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Are you in any place,” Sabo said softly. “To be making demands?”

Hotaru shuddered.

“We’re all here to do this for you,” Sabo said. “And you go and run your mouth like that… is that anyway to repay us?”

Hotaru shook her head desperately, eyes wet. Her cheeks were such a dark red, panting heavily.

Sabo had complete hold over her.

Absolute control.

Sabo reached over for the little box. His thumb hit a button softly.

The reaction was instant.

Hotaru tossed her head back, writhing with her hair still in Ace’s loose grip. Her legs shuddered, jerking this way and that. Hotaru moaned, back arching. She bucked into the air once, twice. Ace and Sabo watched in silence as the low hum filled the room.

Hoku pressed a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were wide at her paper. Her face flushed red in embarrassment and she folded in on herself. That’s—That wa—Earlier—

Suck it up, you wimp. It’s just a—

Sabo hit a second button.

“Oh, god!” Hotaru cried. She panted, chest rising and falling and her entire body twisted about, lashing this way and that as she tried to find some kind of purchase, any kind of relief for the pleasure coursing through her body from the little device. “Please—oh, please! Let me come, Sabo. Please, please—”

Hoku filled her head with any other thought. It’s just—this is just porn! This is literally just porn—Usopp! Usopp and—that time you walked on Usopp in the shower—

“You think she deserves it?” Sabo questioned curiously. Looking at Ace over the top of his fingers.

Hotaru’s pitiful moans filled the entire room. Ace gave her head a little pat, watching her squirm. “Why not?”

“Please!” Hotaru gasped, back arching sharply. Hoku flinched. “Sabo! Ace! Please! I’m so close—”

Sabo hit the controller. Hotaru moaned. Her feet skidded across the floor, the humming cutting out completely. She whimpered, hips bucking upwards uselessly as the convulsions ceased and Sabo leaned back onto his hands.

“Take it out.”

Hotaru’s eyes snapped open wide. Hoku choked. Isn’t that a bit harsh—

“Some people are into that.”

Hotaru’s lips trembled. She looked up at Ace pleadingly, but he merely carded his fingers through her hair, offering her a low smile. His canines peeked through. Hotaru whimpered, spreading her legs open as she lowered her hand down to her tight dress. Sabo watched her, hand resting over the lower half of his face, eyes shaded darkly.

Hotaru’s fingers disappeared beneath her dress. She tossed her head back onto Ace’s thigh with a moan, spreading her legs apart. Her eyes kept themselves on Sabo, seeming to hope it’d get him moving.

Sabo remained motionless.

Hotaru let out a little whine. Her fingers tugged and then a ribbon and a thin cord came out, followed by the egg shaped vibrator—

Hoku focused on her paper. She had the entire room sketched out in vivid detail. Shaded in and everything. She had enveloped forms but no real figures. No pose—

“Good girl,” Sabo praised. Hotaru shuddered, watching him hopefully. “Now on your feet.”

Hotaru’s lips parted in desperate protest. Sabo’s face was cold. Unrelenting. Her mouth fluttered shut and she whimpered, slowly gathering herself on wobbly knees and walking toward him like a newborn fawn.

Ace followed behind her, stopping at her back. His fingers dipped into his back pocket, pulling out a foil package. He handed it to Hotaru over her shoulder, slipping it into her hand.

The proud, confident woman that had walked into the room just moments ago was nothing like what she had been. Her knees quivered. Her hair was disheveled. Her lips wet and red from all her biting and Hoku could see the slick shine to the inside of her thighs where her dress had hiked up almost completely and revealed she wasn’t even wearing anything beneath.

She was at their mercy.

Hoku’s eyes flickered to the door and back to her drawing. The events transpiring were leading to one finale. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be seeing this—

“It’s just a simulation of sorts.”

Too raw. Too vivid—

“Sabo—”

“Alright,” Sabo said. Hotaru’s eyes brightened, a kind of desperate Hoku had never seen on anyone before. Not in a situation like this. So… pitiful? “If you want it, then you do the work.”

Hotaru’s lips quivered. She looked about to protest for a moment and Ace stepped closer, hands coming around her sides and dipping low where Hoku couldn’t see.

Hotaru jerked. She moaned, nodding her head rapidly. She struggled with the condom for a second, ripping it open and then she quickly stepped between Sabo’s legs. He shifted further onto the bed, the first move he’d made in what felt like ages. Hotaru followed after, unrolling the condom. She placed it between her lips and her head ducked down.

Hoku turned back to the paper, starting to sketch out the forms onto the bed. There. That’s it. You don’t have to watch the specifics—get the feeling of it.

Hotaru’s lips fell over Sabo’s heavy tip. She licked a long stripe up the side of his length, following a heavy vein and finally moving the condom back between her lips. She took his head into her mouth, moaning just at the fact that she was finally, finally getting closer to what she wanted. Sabo looked almost amused above her, robe pooling down around his elbows as he leaned back and let her work, not moving a finger.

Hoku’s eyes landed on the vivid scar against his left side. The way it carved up his ribcage to his shoulder. She drew that part carefully, softly, on the form that was starting to give more shape to Sabo. She thought about the scar. Focused on that.

Hotaru moaned around him. Wriggling her hips impatiently. Ace knelt on the edge of the bed. He swiftly pulled his shirt off. Muscles rippled across broad shoulders, traveling down to almost slender hips.

His hand reached down, tugging his pants down lower on his hips. He pulled his cock free from its confines, hard. Precum gathered at his tip. Heavy, hot in his hands. His finger dragged across the slit, moving around the heavy head. His slickened hand dropped down, starting from the base and slowly working his way up.

Ace’s head tipped back, barely breaking a sweat. His eyes seemed focused on something else, working almost lazily at his own. Sabo watched Hotaru continue for a second longer, the condom fully sheathed over his length as she pressed kisses to the tip and bent lower—

“That’s enough,” Sabo said. “Go on.”

Hotaru eagerly clambered forward. She panted, reaching up and struggling to unzip the top of her dress. Ace seemed to take pity on her for a second, tugging it down swiftly and she tugged it low, letting her heavy breasts free as she groped desperately at herself. Hotaru twisted one of her nipples, rolling her breast and gazing heatedly at Sabo.

“Am I doing it right?” Hotaru begged. “You like this, right, Sabo? Tell me, please.”

Sabo leaned back on his elbows, calm and collected.

Hotaru groaned in desperation. She readied herself, lining up with his tip and she shot him another heated look, lips quivering, waiting.

Sabo simply blinked, watching in silence.

Hotaru turned, cheeks flushed. Hair clung to her cheeks, to her lips as she let her back face Sabo and she faced Ace. His hooded eyes watched her, inclining his head as he worked at his cock and Hotaru whimpered.

Hoku didn’t watch. Couldn’t watch. Her ears burned.

Hotaru’s blissful, desperate moan flooded the entire room like a siren as she sank low onto Sabo’s length. She took him in entirely, taking him all the way to the hilt as she slotted her hips over his and braced herself on his thighs.

“Oh, oh, oh,” Hotaru repeated. She lifted herself up and slid back with a lewd slick. Hoku winced. “Yes. Yes. Finally—Sabo! Sabo, you feel so good. Baby, you’re so big—so big, so hard, so good. Come on, help me—ah. Sabo, help me—”

Hoku realized just how much a prude she must be after all. Even—even during sex, she’d never been able to utter anything like that-—

Sabo shut his eyes for a second. He tipped his head back, golden strands shifting around his chin. The most of a reaction Hoku had seen so far. She focused on that, ignoring what was transpiring in front of her and how—

Intimate this is—

She remembered every sensual thing she’d ever drawn. She’d drawn sex before—intimate depictions of models—it’s just that. It’s just people.

But no matter how hard she tried—isn’t this too much? She’d never done anything like this before. Panic seized her. She’d never witness something so personal like this where it was happening before her and making her feel so, so—

Uncomfortable.

Hoku froze.

“If you ever feel uncomfortable—”

“If it’s ever too much—”

“Can’t handle it?”

She swallowed. Her throat went dry. Hoku’s eyes hardened and she shoved her pencil to the paper. No. No it’s not. It’s not too much. I’m not uncomfortable. You can do this, Hoku. You have to. So what if it’s new—it’s just different. You wanted to change and try new things—

“Why don’t you put that mouth to use?” Ace said huskily.

Hotaru’s eyes fluttered open and she crawled forward eagerly. Ace was on his knees, hand slipping from his cock and sliding back behind Hotaru’s head. She lifted her hips desperately, bringing them back down onto Sabo’s over and over again, chasing the feeling each time.

The sound of skin on skin. The air heavy.

Hotaru opened her mouth obediently. Ace’s grip tightened on the back of her head and he pushed forward past her lips. His head tipped back, eyes shutting at the feeling before he rolled his hips back and thrusted forward, fucking himself with her mouth.

Hoku couldn’t help the wince. I don’t think I could ever—

Hotaru moaned. Pleasure lined every crease of her face. She worked desperately with her mouth, letting Ace fuck himself as he liked while she moved, Sabo not lifting a finger as she rode herself on him as fast as she could. It was rough, it was desperate and almost pitiful and yet she looked so pleasured—

Hoku’s fingers twitched. I could draw that. Ace was in the picture now. It was obvious the client wanted something like this depicted—it’s just like people who write harlequin novels or direct porn. Just draw it.

You’re not involved.

The single sentence seemed to free Hoku from every other thought. That’s right, you’re not involved. She wasn’t part of the picture. She was safe here behind her station. Look at it from perspective. She had no reason to feel anything else but—

Professional.

Hoku pressed her pencil to her paper, ready, at ease. The faces started to blur and sharpen. She saw bodies. Movement. A scene unfolding.

That’s all it was.

Hoku’s pencil started to move rapidly. She watched the scene less and less, glancing up and down back to it. She had her mold now. She didn’t need to think about anything else. Her mind focused on the drawing and nothing else. The sounds fell deaf around her ears, the actions—

Hoku drew.

Dark eyes watched her from beneath blonde waves. His gaze was heavy, dark. Sabo’s lips twitched and he let out a small sigh through his nose, leaning back onto his elbows as he watched Hotaru get off, riding him with reckless abandon while she took Ace in all the way to the back of her throat, moaning each time.

The perfect picture of nothing but carnal desire. Lewd. Filthy. Raw. The vivid fantasy of any man’s dreams.

Sabo’s eyes narrowed. His lids lowered. Not even watching the moving body riding him like her life depended on it. His gaze remained trained on the only figure out of his reach.

For now.

Ace’s eyes flickered up at the soft sound. His fingers were threaded through Hotaru’s hair, meeting his brother’s gaze over the top of her head.

Ace glanced to the side, watching the way Hoku worked, glancing to them with unfocused eyes and back to her work from beneath his hair. She was seeing them but not seeing them. Watching but not watching. Zoned out as she drew.

Disconnected.

His brows creased slightly. Ace’s grip on the back of Hotaru’s head tightened. He thrust forward with a little more force and she moaned. Loud. Shameless. She worked herself desperately, chasing her high as she came down over and over again on Sabo’s length, grinding her hips, twisting this way and that.

Hoku felt the drawing start to come together. She worked on the details around Hotaru’s face, shading in softer areas, trying to capture the look. Her body curved, meeting both Ace and Sabo so she didn’t worry about anything else. Hotaru was the most exposed.

Ace watched Hoku. His fingers threaded harder. Hotaru moaned desperately around him. His lids lowered. He watched her eyes flicker to and fro, watched her mouth move soundlessly, followed her lips, the way her tongue peeked out as she worked harder at something on the paper—

Ace shut his eyes. He grit his teeth. Heat pooled, fast and molten in his stomach. Hotaru worked faster, bobbing her head up and down while she sloppily lifted her hips to come crashing back down.

Hotaru popped off suddenly, lips bruised and swollen. She panted out desperately with a keen, “Come for me, Ace—”

Sabo pulled her down hard onto his length, driving himself deep into her. Hotaru’s voice cut off with a high, stuttering moan. Her eyes went wide, face flushing with pleasure and Ace grabbed the back of her head, muffling her moans as he thrusted back into her mouth.

Ace’s breathing quickened. His eyes darted back to the desk. More labored. Sabo’s eyes flickered to him. Ace bowed his head, thrusting faster and harder into Hotaru’s mouth without mercy. Tears peeked out from the corners of her eyes, moans punched out with every shift of his hips.

Hoku adjusted his expression based on the sound. Already far, far away from what was unfolding in front of her. Focused on the drawing. The room slipped back into a studio. The bed another prop. The people forms to draw.

Sabo sat up. Hotaru moaned around Ace’s cock at the shift, moving her hips erratically to chase the deeper feeling he’d done just seconds ago, trying desperately to imitate the pleasure he could give her—find it for herself—

Useless.

Sabo’s gloved fingers slid around her waist. His fingers found the swollen nub, working it fast and quickly between his fingers. Hotaru’s eyes went wide and she keened, swallowing around Ace’s thick cock as he fucked her mouth and tears and drool dripped down her chin—

Hoku barely blinked, figuring everything was starting to come down. The room would slip from its high. Her hand worked faster at the drawing. Almost there. Finish up.

You can do this.

Hotaru’s entire body shuddered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. Sabo’s textured fingers rolled a few more times expertly over her clit, stroking it as her hips jerked. She clenched hard around him, trying to tug him over the edge with her. Not knowing how far back at the starting line he still was.

Sabo’s eyes were hooded. He let her ride it out with another sloppy jerk of her hips and then gently, sweetly, patiently guided her twitching hips forward and off. His cock slipped out, still fully erect. It pulsed, heavy and hard. He felt each hot throb beneath the slickened condom and he sat up further as Hotaru fell forward toward Ace.

Hotaru choked. The muted sound muffled as Ace grabbed the back of her head and held her there. He let out a low, ragged breath, barely a groan. He shut his eyes tight, bowing his head low as he came.

Hot spurts filled her mouth and Hotaru’s throat bobbed rapidly, working to swallow it all as she shut her eyes tight. Her hips twitched. On her hands and knees as the bitter taste flooded her mouth.

Hoku erased a part of Sabo’s expression. It didn’t quite fit. She reworked at his eyes, focusing on finishing.

Ace’s fingers unthreaded her hair. He sat back on his heels with a breathy exhale.

Hotaru’s lips slid off him with a wet pop. She breathed, ragged. Her face was flushed a dark red with pleasure. Sweat rolled down her neck, past the swell of her breasts. Her hair disheveled, clinging this way and that. Dress creased. Her entire body shook with effort. A bit of thick white trailed down the corner of her mouth.

Hotaru weakly looked up, eyes wet and hazy. She started to turn over her shoulder. “Sa… Sabo… let me… help you—”

Ace’s large hand slid over her eyes. Hotaru shuddered, letting herself be pulled back into his lap and flush against him. Ace’s free hand snaked around her hip, slowly running a teasing trail right back down to her throbbing, wet heat.

Hotaru sucked in a sharp breath. She moaned loudly, tossing her head back. Eyes covered by Ace’s hand. “Ah, baby—again?”

Sabo leaned back against the cushioned headboard. His fingers nimbly tugged off the slickened condom, tossing it to the side of the bed. He pulled his glove off with his teeth. His hand tugged a small bottle off the nightstand with familiar ease, popping the cap and lathering up his fingers.

The blonde exhaled a long, heavy sound. Sabo relaxed back, slowly wrapping his fingers around the base of his cock. It pulsed beneath his slick fingers, throbbing.

Hoku glanced to his expression for a second and burrowed down into the desk, not even watching any further. It sounded about done—I’m almost done here too.

You can do this.

Ace slid two fingers with ease into Hotaru. She moaned, writhing in his lap, legs opening shamelessly despite the stimulation. Ace kept his hand over her eyes, nudging her legs open a little further as Sabo slowly started to stroke himself, watching.

“Want to help him get off?” Ace whispered by her ear. He nipped at her neck and Hotaru nodded desperately as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her, working her to a second high. “Repeat what I tell you to say like a good girl.”

Sabo’s fingers slid from the base to the head, shifting. He ran a thumb over his slit, eyes following the soft top of white hair flickering in and out of his view. Pinning her in place.

“Sabo,” Hotaru said, listening to Ace’s heatedly whispered words. She gasped, breathy. “Sabo, I missed you so much.”

Sabo let out a heavier exhale. His teeth worked at his bottom lip. His hand tightened around his cock.

“I’m sorry I was gone for so—ah—so long,” Hotaru panted. “I’m sorry—” Ace shoved his fingers harder into her, hitting home. “I’m sorry! I won’t—Ace! I won’t… I won’t leave again!”

Sabo groaned. Hoku worked faster. His most… The most reaction from him this entire time.

She blocked everything out. No other sound slipped past. Completely in her own world.

Deaf.

His cock throbbed harder. Sabo shut his eyes, letting his head roll back as he worked faster, harder, pumping himself over and over again. His lips moved. His teeth ground together.

Ace whispered into her ear, thrusting his fingers up.

“Ah! A-Ah… Please,” Hotaru repeated. “Please… I wan… I wanna feel you. Missed you. I-ah-I’ll be good… so… so… teach me!”

Sabo’s breath quickened. His hand worked faster and faster. He screwed his eyes shut tight, muscles growing taut. Sweat rolled down the side of his chin, past his neck.

“I’ll do whatever you say,” Hotaru babbled. “I won’t ever leave again—oh, god, please—”

Ace shoved his fingers, hitting Hotaru’s spot repeatedly and she cried out the heated words whispered into her ear—

“I’m yours, Sabs!”

Sabo stiffened. His back arched. He tossed his head back against the headboard and shuddered, a low, sweet groan escaping his lips.

Hot spurts of come splattered onto Hotaru’s thighs. Painting them white. She panted, chest rising and falling rapidly as she sank back into Ace’s grip. Ace casually slipped his fingers out of her, wiping them off on the bed sheets as he pulled his hand off her eyes.

Sabo struggled to catch his breath for a second. He reached up with his other hand, pushing his hair back from his face. It slicked over the top of his head, remaining there. He inhaled and exhaled slowly before his eyes fluttered open, glancing to Ace as he watched his brother set Hotaru down on her side, a panting, blissed out mess.

Their gazes met. Ace and Sabo watched each other for a moment before their gazes swung to the side of the room.

Hoku stopped. She stared at the drawing that had finally come to life in front of her. Her eyes went round in disbelief, almost in awe.

For a moment—everything else fell away.

The studio, the people—she’d done it. You did it! Hoku, you did it! You finally made something new—

You handled it.

Pride flooded her chest, desperate and unbidden. The small achievement. This strange, harrowing finish line in the midst of something she didn’t realize she’d started—but you did it. See? You just needed to tune everything else out—

You’re moving.

Ace brought one leg up, resting an arm on his knee. Sabo tipped his head to the side, his hand covering the lower half of his face, hiding his mouth and the way his lips were turning—

Hoku touched the drawing. You did your job. You did it. You’re moving again.

The circumstances wild, crazed. She couldn’t think about anything else except that it finally felt like she was moving again and out of this rut.

Two pairs of eyes, hooded and smoldering stared back at her from the drawing, mimicking the pair watching her just over the top of her desk. Across the room.

The path beneath her feet started to shift. Hoku happily ran forward, eager to be moving.

She didn’t notice the fences sliding up on either side of her.

Didn’t notice the signs pointing where to go.

Didn’t know where she was going. Just happy to be going. Happy to have a destination again and not knowing—

There was no escape.

[neshabeingchildish]

Poly Wanna?

A/N: So, I had some different ideas rushing through my head of who and how I wanted these characters to be. They may start in a place that you would not expect or can’t imagine, but just keep in mind that I try to write things a little differently each incarnation of a fic and hopefully nobody checks out within the first few paragraphs. Gimme a chance. It’s delicate content, and I promise I’m trying to do their relationship justice, not just write some trash that throws them all together. I will say that this may be the most adult content of all the content that I bring into this fandom, but STILL no sm*t, okay? Will definitely mention some things that take and have taken place. Enjoy, and let me know how you feel, unless you hate it. Then, Chile stop reading and go. I don’t wanna waste neither of our time with that situation.

And just to tag the folk who initially expressed interest the first time, and lemme tell y’all… This tagging was a little difficult for me, so I shalln’t be doing it again, I don’t believe. You ain’t gotta read it, either. I just wanted to extend the invite for anybody who might have been interested: @adorkable-blackgirl  @chenoahchantel @cactus-con @up-the-tube @riebellion  @itsyaapollochild @oof–musicals @lesbian-so-what @woahjusttakeiteasy-man @meadowstryingtobepretty @imma-sensitive-btch @okaygal21 @midernacht @divinereign4ever @xoxoemille @starry-nightschool

Plot: Pansexual Playboy Henry Hart finally decides to settle down, with his two best friends, Jasper & Charlotte. Each have a history with him and a present with each other, and he simply can’t let either of them go… Not this time around.

01. Reality Bites

Charlotte had just moved the last of her things into Jasper’s apartment and was not even the least bit interested in trying to unpack, yet. She had packed two all encompassing luggage bags with all of her necessities to live out of for a moment, just in case it didn’t work out wonderfully and she had to abort this mission. In the meantime, the beginning of their little life together was at least cute. Jasper had cozy surroundings. His parents didn’t like for him to have things growing up, so he was one of those people who was satisfied with less. But… Charlotte was used to high quality and high maintenance, so she would definitely be turning this place around, if they lasted.

She was having some trouble getting on her feet. It wasn’t that she wasn’t qualified to do things. She definitely was. She went to school. She got degrees. She applied for jobs. She worked them. The thing was that she had this bad habit of putting in less effort than the company wanted. A lot of productivity rules were just busy work and programming. She only wanted to do what was necessary to get her work done. Bosses hated her for that. She was constantly getting fired and had gotten to the point where her parents were sick of it and forced her to get out of their place. “You could always go back to the Man Cave,” Jasper had suggested. Yeah, right. Where Henry was? 

He was part of the problem. She had put so much into him, into them and he simply moved on as soon as it got a little bit difficult, as was his romance method of operation. After that, she wondered why even try to hard when you could simply to whatever you had to and get good results. To be fair and honest, had she thought more about it, she might have realized that what she was actually experiencing was heartbreak and depression. But, she thought that she was just tired of people taking advantage of her.

Jasper, on the other hand had been doing fine. He wasn’t doing great, but he was at least working regularly and was able to afford to take care of himself. Then again, he didn’t eat healthy, keep groceries stocked, or have the best products in the place. In fact, at the moment, he had wine on the kitchen counter, half a bag of tortilla chips in the pantry, and one shelf of condiments on the door of the fridge, with beer on the top rack. So… He didn’t have himself together, but he did have working water, electricity, a vehicle, a home… stuff that she was lacking on because she couldn’t be happy in any career path she had tried, thus far.

But, they found each other again, after some time apart and some distance. Their friendship faltered slightly when he admitted to her some years ago (some months after she and Henry were over) that he and Henry were together. WTF? She didn’t know what part of bro-code,girl code… (friendship? code) was being violated by that relationship, but she felt in her bones that it was betrayal and so, she was good on him. She was good on him a couple of years later when he apologized and told her that karma had caught up to him, because Henry had broken things off. She was good on him up until she came into this bar to meet up with a friend for a promotion celebration and he was serving drinks and let her drink for free. 

It became her thing. She certainly wasn’t able to buy her own drinks, not regularly, anyway, and she’d forgotten how good of a listener Jasper was. She could complain about her problems and drink them away, and she had a good listener available who wasn’t going to take advantage of her if she got too drunk. After a while, it started being hanging out socially, then talking on the phone, texting, social media and finally, she began spending nights. 

They didn’t put any label on things. Labels made Charlotte nervous and Jasper was simply in a headspace where he just wanted to try to enjoy life, with or without someone in it, but it was wonderful to have somebody in it that he had known for so long. It was also good to know her in this new way.

By the time that she was moving in and looking for another job, they had been seeing each other for five months. That was also around the time that Henry called about his opportunity to be on a reality tv show. He called Jasper, not Charlotte, but upon learning that they were together, invited her along, as well. The last thing that she wanted to do was see Henry, but she also didn’t trust him around her Jasper, so she went along just to feel him out. 

Whenever they got to the place, Junk N Stuff was gone, as were several of the neighbors to it and now there was this brownstone and Charlotte was confused, but Jasper went right inside, like he’d been here before. There was a doorman there that looked familiar to Charlotte, but she didn’t know why. “Hey, Gooch. What’s up?”

“Gooch?” She repeated and took a look at the guy. He did look like the Gooch she remembered, but he was much younger. “Wait, did Schwoz find some kind of way to reverse aging or something?”

Jasper laughed and said, “It’s Gooba’s son. Finding out about him was one of the reasons he left. Anyway, we can talk about that later.” Gooch’s son was staring at Charlotte. He looked a little bit younger than them, but not so much that he wouldn’t have been a full kid whenever they initially worked with Gooch. Anyway, she smiled politely and kept following Jasper. 

“How long has this been here?” She wondered.

“Couple years.”

“It’s conspicuous. What does Henry even do that people would reasonably believe that he could have this built and live here?” She wondered.

“You… really have chosen to fully avoid him, huh?” Jasper asked.

“He’s the worst. I don’t need that kind of energy. Mine already sucks.” Whenever they entered the place that she guessed was Henry’s she quickly had that confirmed by the huge, wall sized painting of himself, nude, but covered gingerly with flowers, in a flower crown with flowers what, falling from the sky? She sighed at the painting, rolled her eyes and they followed his voice. 

“Well, I don’t have the time for that type of contract, Levi! I’m about to be in talks for my new show…” He noticed them and smiled, waving them inside, “And I have guests arriving now. No, not clients. I told you, I don’t have appointments today. Look, just fix it. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and turned around, “Char!” He said, excitedly and rushed to hug her and pick her up from the ground. “You look gorgeous. I see your teeth are still perfect and you’ve let your hair and skin join the perfection club, as well.”

“They always were, but thanks for noticing.” She blushed and looked at the ground as Henry went to hug Jasper, too. 

“And you! Buddy… You gonna cut the beers, or nah?”

“Char’s fine with the beer belly.”

“It’s not a beer belly,” she cut in. “He’s always been a little bit gooey.”

“He wasn’t with me,” Henry said and gave Jasper a smile that said that he was thinking of those days, or nights, or… whatever. 

Charlotte stepped in between them and reminded him, “Well, he isn’t with you.”

“Right! The two of you, now. So… That’s interesting. Unless both of you have changed drastically, I never would have pegged you two to be sexually compatible.”

“What, are you a professional sexual compatibility… person?” Charlotte asked.

Henry smiled and corrected her, “Liscensed sex therapist, with special focus on sex positive therapy.” She sighed. Of COURSE, he’d get a degree on sex. “Don’t look like that. My work is very important! I help save marriages. I help people not hate themselves for being normal. What kind of fancy schmancy science is keeping Charlotte Page’s attention these days.”

“The kind where I bring drinks to tables until I get back into another lab.”

“Her bad attitude gets her fired a lot,” Jasper said.

“Not my bad attitude. Corporations’ insistence on overworking people who know better than to allow themselves to be used,” she corrected.

“Having a money issue?” Henry wondered.

“I haven’t found the right lab yet, that is it,” she insisted.

“Okay. Well, if, while you’re looking, you don’t mind having a camera or two pointed in your face, I want to invite you two to be a part of the cast for my new reality show adventure.”

“How the heck are you gonna have a reality show whenever half of your life is a secret?” Charlotte wondered. “Wait… Are you no longer Swellview’s hero? Because, I will definitely work in the Man Cave if you’re not gonna be there.”

“I am the new hero man of Swellview. Captain Man is still working, because he is indestructible and not super old yet. But, yes, we are partners.”

“Are you Man Danger?” Charlotte asked.

“He’s Dr. FeelGood,” Jasper said. 

“MISTER FeelGood. Dr. Feel Good is copywritten.”

“Both are corny,” Charlotte said.

“You’re a waitress who has like seven degrees,” Henry said.

“Ouch,” she replied. 

“To answer the question you asked before the cascade of shade that you threw me, I’m gonna do the show with production that knows that I’m Mister FeelGood, so they will never record or release anything that has me working in that way, because they work for me.” Charlotte raised her hand. “Yes?”

“So… Was Man Danger unavailable in the superhero names database, Danger just too vague? Captain Danger too much like Captain Man? Like… what possessed you to go to Mister FeelGood?” 

Henry smiled and rolled his eyes then pointed to Jasper, “You in?”

“In? Like… What is the show even about? Just following you around and recording all of your life when you aren’t fighting crime?”

“It… Is about me coming out of the shadow of all of my Swellview celebrity friends and trying to become a Swellview celebrity, in my own rite.”

“Swellview has celebrities?” Charlotte wondered.

“Whenever I go places, people still say things to me like, “Hey - you used to be friends with that science girl, Charlotte. Whatever happened to her? Or, hey - do you ever still talk to Jasper Dunlop? It was so cool that he was a real hero, much like Kid Danger. I thought WAS Kid Danger, at some point! Or, what’s happened to the guy who used to own that junk shop? He doesn’t get voted for as the most handsome man in Swellview anymore. Did he die?” Charlotte and Jasper were both laughing and leaning on each other. Henry said, “I have my own private practice. I help people in my daily life and I’m a superhero. I would like to be seen as something other than the guy who’s dated TWO girls from Kids in the Woods.”

“OH MY GOD!” Charlotte said and cackled.

“I totally forgot about that! And I just had spa day with them last month!” Jasper said.

“With Bianca and Chloe?” Henry wondered.

“Yep. They started taking me with them after you and I broke up. There’s a Henry Hartbreak Plan, so you’re definitely not riding on just our forgotten celebrity alone.”

“A Henry Hartbreak Plan?” Charlotte repeated.

“It’s a boost of vitamins and painkillers, a punching bag workout set to music, a shower. massage, detox, and a long snuggly nap. The spa owner has some history with Hen, too.”

Henry sighed and pointed at finger at Jasper, “That was mostly in her head!”

“That spa day sounds valuable. You didn’t tell me about all that. You just said Girls Day with the Hartbroken Club.”

“Come next time,” Jasper said. 

Henry watched the two of them talking. They were both still extremely attractive and each had that lovers’ glow with each other. It made him miss them, both. He missed their friendships and he missed being with them. Of course, those were two separate relationships, but he missed those relationships. He had never had anyone like either of them before. He thought that he would never get over Jasper and still wasn’t, but the surprise of seeing Char again, and her being even more perfect than he’d remembered… He was unsure of how he had ever gotten over her. Looking at them both right now, he realized that he hadn’t. He just thought that he had. “It’s only a thousand dollars per episode for this first season, if it even goes beyond that, but…”

“I’m in,” Charlotte said.

“I could use an extra couple of thousand, as well,” Jasper said.

“Cool… Why don’t you let Bianca and Chloe know. Of course, everyone will have to speak with my production team on camera to see what they think, but… I believe that they’d like to have all of the components of my celebrity associations for this thing.”

“So, does that mean that Piper is involved?” Charlotte wondered.

“We can’t really pay Piper to be involved, but she did tell me that if the show makes waves, then we’ll talk…” He was barely done with his comment and Charlotte was laughing at him. “She told me that you two still talk, though. She didn’t give me your number.”

“I girl coded her not to years ago, when I changed it,” Charlotte said. 

“My assistant Levi will need it, to let you know about appointments and stuff.”

“It’s cut off. Just call Jasper. We live together,” she said with a shrug.

“You live together? It’s… that serious?” he wondered, a little bit heartbroken, though he wasn’t sure from which one, but leaning towards both.

“I mean… It’s going great,” Jasper said and wrapped an arm around Charlotte.

Henry nodded, and blinked away the sadness that he felt might show in his eyes. “Well, congrats on that. You two deserve to be happy, more than anybody else that I know.” He reached forward to pull both of them into a hug. Jasper returned it, but Charlotte froze up, and he noticed that she’d done so earlier too. He pulled back and looked at the two of them. They clung to each other as they both fought to tear their eyes away from Henry’s face, so neither of them had seen their reactions to him, but he had seen both. “Later,” they said. Henry smiled and saw them out. So, they were in for the show at least. He hoped that the cameras wouldn’t catch too much of all of that emotion that was floating through the room.

[rollforsleepy]

So I’ve been working on this for like three weeks! It’s been a tonne of fun but also a tonne of work. Coming up with five distinct subraces meant a lot of drawing! Oh boy! This started as a re write of the Dryad race because I didn’t think the Dryad race i found online was super playable, but it kinda gotta away from me a bit so I left dryads behind and these are fully homebrewed! The main carry overs from dryads are the +2 wisdom that they all get, and the no metal caveat in the weaponry proficiencies.

I spent some time researching different culture’s mythology on dryads and similar creatures. Wikipedia has a handy list of similar folklores at the end of the dryad entry (im not linking cos tumblr screws w posts w external links, but you can check it out yourself if youre curious). Basically I picked a few and wrote down some notes on each one so each subclass had a distinct feeling to it.

The Deep Forest subclass is based off hamadryads. Super long life, connected to a specific tree (i removed the life or death thing and just made it birthed by a tree, cos having a tree that if cut would killed you seemed unbalanced to me), that sorta thing. Cos they’re based on Oak trees, and Oaks are fairly hardy, I gave them some good survival type stuff. I didn’t want long, unfamiliar names so I changed it from Hamadryad to Deep Forest. Also I really didn’t want them to hark back to dryads and just Hamad had a weird ring to it to me

Gillie Du got to pretty much keep it’s name tho. Originally it’s Ghillie Dhu, and there was nothing wrong w that but i wanted things a bit simple in the name department. Ghillie Dhu is a Scottish fairy who (to drastically summarise him) lives in a marsh and plays tricks on people. As I said earlier, I wasn’t using these sources as gospel, just as flavour affects, so the Gillie Du subrace became a more water based thing with the breathing under water and swim speed.

Desert Walkers probably changed most from their original material. I started with the Salabhanjika, a sculpture found in india that’s always got a tree and a musical instrument in it. I wanted a bit of size range (i had to talk myself out of making one of them Large size cos it got too op, but I wanted to so bad) so they got the Small tag, then because India is a hot country and I already had a sub class more tightly woven in with fruit trees I made it more desert based, giving some good boosts to travelling related skills. I really love playing Small races and I wanna play as one of these now, it feels built for a ranger but I think it could make a kickass wizard tbh

The Maliade are based on the Epimelides, who were a kind of nymph associated with apple trees and sheep. I extended that association to fruit trees and all farm animals cos i didn’t want to cramp anyones roleplaying incase someone really wanted to be a Maliade who’s buddies with a bull and makes three magic dragon fruits every day. There’s no information beyond that on wikipeida, but I didn’t have any subrace who had a close relationship with people, so they got that. I like this one, I think the skills are pretty useful in a lot of small ways

And the Kodama! The Kodama are the only ones who actually got to keep their original name. Kodama are a Japanese spirit that inhabit trees. They can also be seen as Mountain Gods. So these guys got the mountain skills. Spider climb is a great skill, but when coupled with a slower speed I thought they cancel out pretty comfortably to make a balanced race. The Kodama has a brief description on wikipedia, but it’s terrifying, “small, white humanoids with large, rattling heads and mask-like features, with asymmetrical black dots for eyes and mouth, and move similar to bobbleheads.” I took the essence of this (pale skin, dark eyes) and dropped the rest. A lot of people (myself included) like their characters to be sexy, and that ain’t hot to me

Click through to read a transcript of the race if the font above is too small/blurry.

I’m gonna be making more of these and if there’s some interest I’ll start doing some stuff on Patreon, let me know if you thinks that’s something worthwhile. I’ve got a race in the works now that is like a living statue. Super slow but super durable. It’s a bit min/max but could be fun for some campaigns

Nature Spirits

Nature Spirits are a known phenomenon, a wandering essence of the land who appear commonly in the land. Some Nature Spirits are chosen and come into being through a birth touched by the land, some choose the path themselves and give their souls over to the land, some are simply brought into being by the powers of the land. It is a difficult life as a Nature Spirit, your priority is not yourself rather the protection and love of your home land. You have features and traits specific to the type of land you hail from.

Varied Childhoods

Each Nature Spirit is different, some wander far from their home, travelling and researching the world at large to better safeguard the continued life of their land. Others never leave and are rarely if ever seen by a civilised person. Some live in harmony with the people of their land, others seek to drive out humanoid peoples. You path in life is up to you, but the land you are from is your home and your priority.

Nature Spirit Traits

Ability Score Increase: Your Wisdom score increases by two.

Languages: You speak Common and Sylvan

Weapon Proficiency: You are proficient with the quaterstaff, club, greatclub, and slings. You cannot use this proficiency to use metal weapons and must use naturally found projectiles (such as wood, stone, nuts) for your sling. If your Class gives you proficiency in any of these weapons the metal caveat no longer applies

Alignment: Nature Spirits can have any alignment, but their loyalty lies with the land that powers them

Choose one from the following Racial Variants

Deep Forest

These spirits emerge from an ancient tree once in the trees lifetime, sometimes living incorporeally their whole lives, other times taking humanoid form to explore their forest in that way. They are ancient, tough, and fast, living the longest of any of their brethren Nature Spirits. Their hair forms as moss does atop their head. They are the least likely to leave their home unless they must.

Age: You age slowly, up to about 1000 years, and you age in time as a human would, at 80 years old you appear 8, at 900 years old you appear as a 90 year old human

Size: Medium

Speed: Your speed is 35ft

Ability Score Increase: Your Strength score increases by one.

The Hard Trek: Rough and difficult terrain does not affect you

Vision: You have Darkvision to a distance of 60ft

Survivalist: You are proficient in the Survival skill

Gillie Du

The Gillie Du find home wherever land meets water, be it ocean, river bank, or a swampy marsh. They are generally cheerful and occasionally make themselves known as a trickster to strangers in their land. Their skin is a dusky green tone but otherwise they appear somewhat elven. They can be born of humanoids, but more often are formed over some time in their land, and very occasionally a humanoid will show such a loyalty to the land that they turn into a Gillie Du. They are comfortable in both water and on land, but prefer land.

Age: You are fully grown at about 40 years old and do not age until your death at about 700 years of age.

Size: Medium

Speed: Your speed is 30ft, and your swim speed is 30ft

Ability Score Increase: Your Dexterity score increases by one.

Powerful Lungs: You can hold your breath for fifteen minutes plus a number of minutes equal to your Constitution modifier (minimum of zero)

Vision: You have Darkvision to a distance of 60ft

Sleep with Ease: You can cast the Alarm spell once a day without components

Desert Walker

Desert Walkers are born in deserts and find themselves comfortable in a hot climates. They are the most inhuman in appearance, still humanoid but with grey black skin, ears that connect behind their heads, and everlastingly young. Their age, of course, is not reflected in their appearance and they often speak with an experience that startles people. They are soft spoken and have learned from the many cultures they have encountered in their time.

Age: You live up to roughly 200 years, always appearing someone younger than an adult

Size: Small

Speed: You move quickly despite your size. Your speed is 30

Ability Score Increase: Your nomadic lifestyle has caused you to meet with the odd civilisation and learn from many varied cultures. Your Intelligence score increases by one

Inexhaustable: You have advantage against effects that will cause Exhaustion

Fire: You can cast the Cantrip Produce Flame

Musically Gifted: You have proficiency in one musical instrument of your choice

Keep an Eye Out: You have Expertise in the Perception skill

Endurance: You do not need to eat

Maliade

The Maliade Spirits are the most civilised, often the child of a townsperson who is touched by the powers of nature. They grow up with a community of humanoids in a small town hidden in the forest, or a larger city connected to an expanse of untouched flora. They are Medium size even if their birth parents are Small or Large, their size is determined by their Nature Spirit soul. They are friendly with animals and people alike, used to the constraints of town life as well as the freedom beyond. They are the most normal in appearance, the least likely of their kin to turn heads

Age: You age at the same rate as the average human, and die at roughly 100 years of age

Size: Medium

Speed: Your speed is 30ft

Ability Score Increase: Your Charisma score increases by one.

Language: You can speak to all farm animals

A Good Fruit: Everyday you can create four fruits of your choice, each feeds the average person for a day and restores 2 Hit Points. You cannot use this abiliy again until your next long rest

Find a Ride: At 3rd level you can cast Find Steed once a day, you are restricted to animals that would be normally found in a farm such as a horse, sheep, or cow.

Cook: You are proficient in Cooks Tools

Kodama

The Kodama are usually the result of a lost traveller or explorer who commits their life to protecting the land they’ve found and accepts the physical changes that entails. They are drawn to the roads and paths through their mountain range, watching and learning the different plants, animals, and humanoids that grow and pass through. They are pale skinned with dark irises and are generally more lean than strong.

Age: You live up to 400 years, aging to appear as a human would in their 60s

Size: Medium

Speed: You’re used to moving carefully across treacherous mounains, as such your speed is 25ft

Ability Score Increase: The mountains are a hard life. Your Constitution score increases by one

Natural Defence: You are more likely to defend yourself than attacked, as such once a day you can cast Barkskin

A Life of Climbing: You are forced to carefully climb your way throug life, leaving you with an ability most professional climbers would marvel at. You can Spiderclimb, climbing across walls and roofs live gravity doesn’t affect you

Sight: You have 30ft of Darkvision

[aalin-pace-blog]

i. basics

Card: 14. Temperance

Character Name: Aalin Pace

Faceclaim: Morena Baccarin

Age: 38

Gender & Pronouns: Female, she/her

Outside Occupation: UX Designer

ii. character interview

If you could be in charge, would you be? What would you do?

“I’ve been in charge before. I’ve led teams of disparate people, I’ve tried to hold their hands and maneuver them through trials and tribulations, I’ve succeeded and I’ve failed. While there is great satisfaction in a job well done along with the knowledge that you were instrumental in getting there, there are so many drawbacks. The blame, if given, rests squarely on your shoulders. Tempers flare and you’re the one they attack. At times it’s like herding cats. Cats that are on fire and refuse to be put out.”

Her answer seemed to please The World. There was a nagging feeling that Aalin had once known this person, but she couldn’t remember the specifics. It was quite infuriating, if she was being honest. A puzzle she would never be able to solve, not if what The World had told her was true. She would be limited to the stacks of journals held within these walls. Second hand information. It wasn’t the way Aalin liked to learn, but she supposed it would suffice. For now.

Aalin shook her short crop of hair over her shoulder. “Over the years, I’ve learned I like to lead from the sidelines, if at all. My skills are more useful than my leadership, I think. People forget you’re there if you’re not the one standing in the middle of the room shouting your opinion and marching orders, leaving much more room to soak up information. You learn something about the people on your team when they think you’re not listening, more than they’d ever tell you to your face. Not to mention the amount of time I have for my own education. Leading can be so tiresome and time consuming.” She let out an exasperated sigh, remembering all too well how exhausting the launch of Google News was, despite its success.

It was the most Aalin had spoken uninterrupted in years. She liked how The World let her say her peace, even though it felt like every word was being analyzed for some greater purpose. Aalin was used to that, though she was more used to being the one doing the analyzing. A quizzical look blossomed across her face, genuine curiosity in her words. “How does anyone get anything done when they’re in charge?”

What is your favorite part of your power?

When I first came to “The Lair”, I found only a few fellow Councilors, the beginnings of my new family. Immediately, I felt their abilities slamming into my brain and could no longer deny The World and her claims of magic and the Arcana Council. As soon as I felt their powers, however, they were gone. No...not gone...suppressed. Hiding beneath the surface, bubbling under a fog. Had I done that?

The World called it “Power dampening”, but some of my peers called it something far more crass. It wasn’t my fault I couldn’t control it yet, but I have to admit it was calming not to have everyone waving their abilities around all willy nilly. The Empress was the only one I really trusted, until a new member came in soon after me. They seemed more grounded than the rest, more willing to keep the balance the world so desperately needs.

No wonder they call me Temperance.

I never noticed before I came here, how much the anxiety inducing meetings got to me back in the “real” world. The men swinging their egos around, mousy women taking anything they threw at them, and the ones who wanted to argue any point with any person who would listen. It was chaos and I just shut it out and went to work. No wonder no one ever noticed me. Even here with all the large personalities, it was a wonder The Lovers even saw me unless I was taking away their abilities.

Read us a journal entry from your first life.

Journaling has always brought me peace. I would have kept one even if The World had not asked us to, though to be honest, it would have contained many different entries, I’m sure. I know some of the others detest the assignment or feel it’s beneath them, but I agree with The World’s idea to keep our lives recorded, and from our own perspectives. How interesting it could be to reread these tomes after centuries away from that point in our lives.

I still find myself coming to terms with my newfound abilities. Magic has and always will be a force of balance, but I find myself off-kitler as I adjust. The Ancients warned us of this, but you never really know a feeling until you’ve felt it. Every time I walk into a room, I feel the others’ abilities as if they were tangible entities I could reach out and hold, and I feel myself softening them until they’re almost indistinguishable. More practice is needed, to be sure. At times the others’ abilities are too overwhelming, even when they’re not being used. I can still feel them, hanging in the air around me. I can tell some of my new companions despise my power. They tend to forget I’m there, until they can no longer wield their powers.

Perhaps that is why I was chosen. To keep the balance.

I’ve never faltered when it comes to balance. I find myself dancing on the precipice of light and dark, “good” and “evil”, chaos and serenity, never tipping one way or the other. My companions seem to have a harder time staying on one side or the other, when they should be toeing the line between. But that is not their strength, and I understand that.

If only they did. If only they learned to lean on their fellow Councillors for their strengths. Perhaps with time we shall grow and harmonize the way the Ancients want us to. I’m optimistic, but I feel the other Councilors’ gifts and can sense how dangerous they would be if used for selfish purposes, if used without the rest of us to balance.

iii. background

Balance. Life and death. A new soul comes screaming into the world as another peacefully fades out of it. This is how Aalin entered this iteration of her life, with the truest sense of harmony and symmetry. On the clear night in December, as a fresh snow was falling over the hospital grounds in Ashland, Oregon, Aalin Pace came kicking and screaming into being, replacing the soul of her mother. The doctors had known it would be a difficult birth, but Nooma demanded to go through with the pregnancy. Aalin was to be her little miracle, even if it killed her. And that she was, even if Nooma wouldn’t be around to see it.

In childhood, Aalin was a calm and obedient child. She was bright, but never tried to outshine anyone. ‘Easy going’ and ‘kind’ were the two go-to words used most often to describe the child who never seemed to have any squabbles. In fact, most people felt so much more at ease around her that whatever argument they were having seemed to falter.

Ever the mediator and with a scholastic reputation, Aalin was picked constantly for group projects, sometimes even when she’d rather work alone. The value of having the smartest girl in class in your group was not lost on her classmates, but more times than not, she was quickly forgotten as the rest of her peers vied for the coveted title of “project leader”. Aalin would simply roll her eyes and put her nose back in her books, all too aware that the “leader” really was more of a figurehead than a contributing member of the group. The rest of her team may wish to fail, but she would not.

It wasn’t until she entered the graduate design program at UC Stanford that Aalin really understood what it was that was missing in her life. She never truly felt like she belonged, never felt like she was seen or appreciated for the talents she possessed. Most of the time she didn’t mind playing second fiddle to the more rambunctious people around her, but sometimes it would be nice to be noticed. Her classmates stampeded over her despite their lack of natural ability, and though Aalin was one of the most easy going people you could ever meet, she wasn’t about to flunk out of school because she didn’t have a backbone. Her mother hadn’t given her life so that she could have one to let it be squandered.

So Aalin but her nose to the grindstone and worked. She worked in the background while her roommates went to keggers, she worked when her best friends dragged her out to bars only to forget she was there 15 minutes after getting there. She worked harder than she ever had, and she gained the attention of more than a few tech companies that were springing up all over Silicon Valley. While her peers were fighting cutthroat campaigns to get job offers from any worthy company, Aalin focused simply on doing a good job. She even helped some of her classmates study, but when push came to shove, it wasn’t her peers who got the holy grail offer.

Google, a new company in Palo Alto, California, wanted her. As it turned out, Aalin picked the best possible study buddies, a pair of PhD students who wanted to branch off and create a new tech research company. They were blown away by her academic achievements and her enduring personality and offered her not an internship but a fully staffed position at their new office. Aalin still wasn’t sure she found her niche, but every day that she walked into the conference room for a morning round up, she felt a genuine smile pop up on her face. Still usually the quiet girl in the back, Aalin listened and soaked up every tidbit of information she could get. The company’s code of conduct “Don’t Be Evil” truly resonated with the young woman and she couldn’t imagine herself in a better place.

That is, until a being calling themself The World entered her life.

It was 2004 and Google had just released their IPO, effectively becoming the future force to be reckoned with, all thanks to Aalin. It was a write up in Time that got The World’s attention, they explained to a very confused Aalin. The existence of magic, of past lives and revoked immortality sent her reeling. However there was a bit that hung in her mind, unwilling to be explained away by logic. The World had called her Temperance and explained that she was the embodiment of balance and compromise. She saw into Aalin’s soul and spoke things no one had ever bothered to ask about or try to see. It was as if she had been truly seen for the first time in her life – in this life – and Aalin wasn’t ready to let that feeling go.

[sketcher-boy]

Scooby Redux - Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: Surprise! I'm also aspiring to be a writer boy. This chapter will mark one of the very many attempts I have planned for doing a personal re-write of 'Scooby Doo, Where Are You?' set in a semi-modern era of the late 90's. These chapters will of course be based off the episodes, as a way of re-introducing some of the characters, and plots that you might vaguely remember. I’m just starting out with posting fan fiction and stories on this site, so if you have any pointers on how I should go about doing it better, I’d be glad to hear any comments! I hope you enjoy reading.

SYNOPSIS: What a night for a knight, right? Some might remember a particular night like this as being the first in a very long journey for a certain group of meddling kids. Others might remember it a little differently, given that history does have a tendency of being mixed up as it keeps getting repeated. This historical event is no exception to that mixture. You might remember the original story very well, but then again you might also remember it just vaguely enough to where a re-telling like this will help bring your memories back. Possibly even create cooler memories! Only one way to find out.

A long time ago, Shaggy and Scooby were walking home from the movies...

 Sunday, September 13, 1997            “What a nervous night to be walkin’ home from the movies, Scooby Doo.” A shaky voice spoke out among the sounds of crickets, and owls hooting in the Coolsville woods. The source of the statement of course being from a young man, no more than seventeen at the most. His green T-shirt appeared to be the only thing that could be made out through the darkness of the night, and the thickness of the fog. Unlike his brown companion walking alongside him, who just happened to be a Great Dane breed.            “And, all because you had to see ‘Star, Dog Ranger of the North Woods’. Twice!” The young teenager clarified as he held up his index, and middle fingers for emphasis. The Great Dane, affectionately known as ‘Scooby Doo’ simply released a few happy giggles as he nodded his head, signaling that he was proud of his decision to have his human friend accompany him to a movie presentation two times. It almost made you wonder just why the theater allowed a dog into the screening rooms in the first place. Before either of them could further dwell on their previous events, a sudden croaking started to sound off near them, halting their words for just a moment.            “What the-? ‘Sat you?” The teen asked his canine friend, to which Scooby simply shook his head to signal that he hadn’t made the noise. “T-Then, like...it must be comin’ from the bushes...you’d better see what it is, Scoob.” That suggestion merely made the dog jolt upward with a look of shock, and confusion. “Don’t worry! I’m right behind ya.”            “...rhanks a rot.” Scooby sarcastically thanked his friend before directing his attention back to the bush before him, figuring that it would just have to be now or never before he was feeding his curiosity to find out just what the noise was. Taking a deep breath, Scooby was soon leaning his head downward until it was completely engulfed by the dark green leaves. A bit of rustling later, and the dog was bringing his head back to reveal to the teenager that it was simply just a toad that had frightened them. The small creature resting on Scooby’s nose.            “Well, geez! Guess you’ve found a new travelin’ buddy, Scoob!” The teen commented with a chuckle, just seconds before the toad decided to suddenly spring off the dog’s snout with a ‘sproing’ noise being left behind with his exit from the scene. Naturally Scooby began to give chase to the small toad, due to over excitement, a barrage of barks leaving his muzzle as he ran down the dirt path with all four of his legs.            “Scooby, come back! Wait-!” The teen raised his arm to try and call his friend back before he got into anymore trouble, his long, jean covered legs carrying him straight after the two animals for a good five minutes before his sneaker covered feet ended up tripping right over Scooby’s hunched back. It seemed that the trail for the toad had been lost, and Scooby forgot to signal that he had stopped, resulting in the lanky male now laying on his stomach with a groan.            “...next time, you may consider having a signal ready for me.” The teen commented with a small roll of his eyes before he turned his head, letting his dark brows raise upward.            “Whoa...check that out!” He was soon sitting upright, Scooby turning his own head to see that there was an abandoned pick-up truck parked on the nearby road. It looked like it had gotten into a recent accident, and it got the boys curious enough to walk over towards it.            “Anybody home?” The six foot tall man called out jokingly as him and his dog stopped right in front of the driver door. What neither of them expected was to get an answer back, especially not from what currently sat in front of them. In the driver’s seat, there appeared to be the upper body of a black suit of armor currently gripping the steering wheel of the truck. The one, and impossible response that the empty suit had given was only in the form of a low, and creepy squeak coming from the head area. Coincidentally enough, that seemed to be the area that was giving way as the helmet started rocking, eventually falling right off the shoulders until it landed right in front of the man, and dog duo.            “...hah…hah-hah..!” The boy and Great Dane attempted to laugh and get a kick out of what they’d just witnessed, but they just couldn’t find any humor in such a horrifying image. The two of them were both sent running back where they had come from, panting and breathing heavily out of sheer fear.            “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!” The teenager repeated to himself as one of his hands quickly darted down into the back pocket of his brown, baggy pants, pulling out a cell phone before his thumb was flipping it open.            “I gotta call Fred!” The male frantically spoke out as he dialed the corresponding numbers on the phone’s pad. It was clear that this was a matter that couldn’t be handled by just the two of them, so they would need all the assistance they could get. Elsewhere in the city, there was a lone van driving down a dark road, the headlights allowing the large vehicle to part the fog to allow it further entry for each mile. Inside the vehicle of the blue, green, and orange color variety were three individuals that seemed to be accustomed, and matching with them respectively.            “I’m just saying, a bear with a tie sounds a little far-fetched.” One of the two females continued a previously established conversation as she sat behind the two front seats that the driver, and passenger were placed down in. She appeared to have short brown hair, a pair of glasses to give great detail to her accompanying brown eyes, freckles spotted all along her pale face, and a bright orange turtleneck sweater all snug around her short figure.            “It’s exactly as I read it in the news! A tall grizzly was spotted in the middle of the park, attempting to nab a picnic basket wearing a green hat, and tie. What could you possibly mistake it for, Velma?” The other female in the passenger seat asked while turning her head to address her friend with glasses. She herself was dolled up a bit more feminine. Accompanying her beautiful features, and flowing locks of red hair was a fashionable purple dress with a light green scarf wrapped nice and secure around her neck, her gloss coated lips smiling with humor.            “You’re leaving out the possibility of it being a really hairy man, Daphne.” The most masculine of the three pointed out as he raised an index finger, his opposite hand holding onto the steering wheel in front of him. He looked to be quite handsome with the way his short blonde hair was combed, along with a long-sleeved white shirt to cover his physique underneath. What really seemed to tie together the boy’s American look was the orange ascot tied securely through the neck of his blue collar.            “No average bear is smarter than the rest. Therefore, the logical conclusion is that it was simply just a homeless, unusually hairy man looking to get a quick snack! Plus-” The driver was forced to halt his counter argument as he heard the sound of his phone ringing in his pocket, the tone set to the tune of 'Sugar, Sugar' by The Archies. Curious enough about the sudden call this late, the blond decided to pull out the device and check out who was making the call.            “It’s Shaggy! I thought he was at the movies?” He pondered aloud before flipping the phone open and pressing it to his ear.            “Hello? Shag-...whoa, whoa, hey! Calm down. You saw what?” The two girls near their driver gave confused glances towards one another as they witnessed what could be quite the call of distress.            “He’s saying that he and Scooby found a...headless body?” The young man spoke towards his friends before focusing his attention back onto his phone call.            “Alright. Just tell us where you are, and we’ll come to you!” He tried to explain before quite the shocking sight emerged in front of the van’s headlights, causing Daphne to let out a scream.            “Fred! Watch out!” She shouted out to the driver, causing him to pull his focus from the phone and to the actual direction in which he was going. His blue eyes widened up considerably as he could barely make out two figures that seemed to be coming right at them, causing Fred to slam his sneaker covered foot straight against the brake pedal. Just as soon as the car had come to a complete stop, the figures were sooner faceplanting against the wide windshield of the vehicle. The sources of the near accident were revealed to be Scooby himself, and his human best friend, faces flat against the window with puzzled expressions.            “...you could’ve chosen a less grand way of telling me, Shag.” Fred spoke, still not losing that shocked look that he had gained from the realization that he nearly ran over his two friends, who seemed to be taking their sweet time with sliding off the windshield.            “What in the world were you two running from anyway?” Velma decided to pipe up after she stepped out of the van through the double back doors, approaching the human and dog duo to see if they needed any medical attention. Shaggy was the one to hop up onto his feet first, revealing to be quite alright despite the life changing experience he had just lived through.            “What else?! Something scary!” Shaggy explained with his skinny arms raised in the air with panic.            “Reah! Real rary!” Scooby interjected as he shook on all four of his legs, looking like a deer caught in a pair of headlights. Especially considering that he was still standing in front of the brightly colored van’s shining lights.            “We were literally just standing in front of a guy with his hands on the wheel of his truck, and his head just...fell right off!” Shaggy looked like he was almost going to break down, if Fred hadn’t stepped out of the vehicle and placed his hands on the other male’s shoulders.            “Shag, c’mon. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation to what you saw.” Fred tried to speak naturally to calm his friend down, but the lankier of the two seemed to be focused on gripping both sides of his own head as he shivered.            “I-I didn’t even stop to take off the helmet he had on! I thought body armor was supposed to protect people-”            “Wait...armor?” Fred interjected with an even more confused tone than before, his eyes soon going into a small squint. Daphne, and Velma both seemed to share the same skeptical expression as they glanced towards each other.            “...I think it’s time we got another look at this body~.” Fred simply smiled calmly as he cocked his head towards the van behind him, gesturing Shaggy and Scooby to join Velma inside before the team of teenagers were continuing their journey down the road. Luckily Shaggy and Scooby hadn’t ran too far from the action before the Mystery Machine was parking itself just behind the truck that contained a headless suit of armor in the front seat, and a giant crate in the back.            “And this is where you found it, guys?” Fred asked quizzically as he switched off the van, turning his head to see the guys cowering in the back.            “Like, don’t remind us! Just see for yourself!” Shaggy’s index finger pointed towards the blue colored vehicle parked in front of them, causing the three braver members of the group to step out of the van, and start to investigate with their flashlights. Upon closer inspection of the armor seated in the truck’s front seat, it soon became obviously clear to Fred, and the girls that it wasn’t actually a body that had lost it’s head, but rather just an empty suit of armor belonging to a knight.            “Put your minds at ease, fellas! It’s completely empty in here.” Velma called out as she pointed her flashlight towards the cowardly pair that were seated in the front of the group’s van. Hesitantly, but obediently, they stepped out to join the others surrounding the crashed truck.            “But, Shaggy was right, though. This is pretty strange!” Daphne remarked as she shined her light among the armor’s outer shoulder, just before she was walking around towards the back to find any type of information regarding the large crate’s significance.            “You’re telling me! What would an empty suit of armor be doing in the driver’s seat of this pick-up?” Fred tapped his chin as he turned his head back towards Velma, who he assumed would have a logical answer.            “Maybe he was...going out for the knight!” Shaggy ended up being the one to give the answer, albeit less logical than what Fred would have expected. Scooby seemed to be the only one finding that little quip hilarious, while Velma just gave a small roll of her eyes behind those glasses.            “We may not know why it’s here, but I think we have a good idea on where it was coming from. Take a look at this, Fred.” Daphne called the blond over with a dainty hand before pointing her light to something that was placed on the side of the wooden crate in the back. It took a small moment of reading for Fred to grasp the armor’s origin.            “Hmm...apparently it was coming from London, England, and being delivered by an archaeologist professor named ‘Jameson Hyde White’.” Fred read through the shipping information curiously.            “Like, I’ve heard of hide and seek before, but I’ve never heard of Hyde White!” Shaggy remarked with another pun before him and his best friend proceeded to laugh about it once more.            “You comedians, that’s a legitimate English name~.” Velma commented to the taller person’s joke while lightly smacking his forearm.            “Hey, what’s this?” Daphne asked mostly to herself as she crouched down beside one of the front tires of the truck, picking up a small slip of paper that had been laying on the road.            “It’s a delivery label that says to...deliver to the county museum? At least we know where the old knight was headed for!” The redhead piped up to the rest of the group with a smile.            “That’s usin’ the old noodle, Daph, but like...if our mysterious professor was the one driving, then where is he now?” Shaggy asked while folding his arms and tilting his head, Scooby easily mimicking those actions with his front legs.            “Off the top of my head, I’d have to say he’s disappeared. Who knows how long this truck has been sitting here?” One of Daphne’s hips cocked out as she placed a hand against it.            “There’s no telling. But, I’ll tell you this. I think it sounds like we’re up to our armor plates in another mystery!” Fred announced to the group as he placed his own hands on his hips.            “And, our first option should be to complete the professor’s delivery in the morning before school. Who’ll volunteer to keep the knight at their house tonight?” The leader glanced around towards his friends, who seemed to go completely silent at the question. Nothing but the sounds of crickets filling the outside air around them.            “...well, don’t everybody rush all at once now. Just raise your hand if you’re game! Anyone at all.” Just a few seconds after his offer had been placed down on the table, the gang’s Great Dane decided to get a little sneaky as he reached his paw down to grab a nearby broken branch, raising the end of it just behind Shaggy’s head to lightly scratch against his skull in a rather annoying manner. As soon as the tall male raised his hand and attempted to bat away at whatever was bothering him, his fate was immediately sealed.            “Ah! I knew we could count on you, Shagster!” Fred opened up his arms as he gave two thumbs up towards the skinniest teen of the four.            “Huh?! Oh no…” There was nothing stopping Shaggy from seeing the big picture that he had been duped by his own buddy, and his hand was the only one being held up. Sometimes he wished that Scooby would learn to keep his big paws down.            Friday, August 17, 1989            “You have to understand, Mrs. Rogers, Scoobert is a sort of...special case.” An elderly woman explained with a bit of a hesitant expression on her face. She was seated behind a desk with her hands folded against the surface of it, her graying hair curled up at every place at once, while her triangle shaped glasses were securely resting against her nose to clearly help her see the much younger looking woman sitting in front of her.            “Well, my son is the same way, Mrs. Knittingham!” The lighter skinned female with much straighter, blonde hair spoke out with a chipper tone in comparison as she folded her hands in her lap.            “Having Scoobert in his life would be really important to him. Despite either of their quirks, these two were definitely made for each other.” Mrs. Rogers mused as she glanced out the nearby window to see a young child in a green T-shirt, not much older than ten, playing with a brown, black-spotted puppy out in the sunny day. No mistake about it, they were getting along pretty well as they rolled around on the grass with one another, just enjoying the available company before the small Great Dane was cheering through the air.            “Scooby Dooby Dooooooooo~!”