#I had a thought and it sorta vanished but the general idea made it in

[kiwikipedia]

Cin Drallig didn’t have Clones under his command. We know this, he wasn’t a General, he was the Battlemaster and head of the Temple Guard Security. But I propose an AU.

It starts with a small choice. After a long day of standing and doing quite literally nothing for hours on end, the Temple Guards who were on the day shift disperse into Coruscant. Technically not against the Jedi Way but going to get inebriated or just bar hopping for the fun of it— or worse, getting into the semi-illegal, underground, lower level fighting rings— wasn’t exactly something that the Jedi looked favorably upon.

But the Jedi Temple Guard get restless after standing still for so long, especially the newer Guards, and Cin pretends he doesn’t see when a group of his kids Guards come stumbling back in the early morning hours with credits won from a gambling match and wide grins.

Anyhow, like any other Jedi, the Guard do have friends among the rest of the Temple, so they know of the Clones and have obviously seen them when Jedi arrive and leave the temple with their Battalions, Companies, Platoons— you know, the usual. After a while, the Guards just... start showing up at 79s and interact with the Clones while there. Which is weird because, first of all, when dressed in civvie clothing, the Guard are practically unrecognizable as very few see their faces, but secondly these are just random Jedi coming up to Clones and buying them drinks, playing card games with them, or thanking them for their efforts on the Front.

Several ask for stories about the time on the Front because “We’re stuck on Coruscant and sure, the duty to protect the Temple is really important but we were all trained by Master Drallig beyond our own Padawan training. I’m pretty sure Master Drallig is just as restless as we are too” and they want to know about what they’re not allowed to go and see themselves. Of course, War is horrible, and more than one Guard is horrified about whats going on— especially when a certain Jedi’s battalion gets back Krell you bitc h im talking about you— and they all learn about the casualty numbers.

The Guard does talk in their free time, their masks have coms built into them— and Cin has an earpiece to keep in contact with the Guard as well. Though they seem to forget that he’s on their group link and they all start talking during shifts while they stand outside the doors or in the halls about the War and the Clones and, whoops, one of them lets it slip that they cant believe that the Clones are supposed to fight Darksiders without Lightsabers. Like sure, Blasters do damage, and certainly more than one Jedi has been gunned down ( “Rest in the Force, Master Di” is echoed through the link ) but really! Theres only so much their Armor can do for them! A lightsaber would cut through it like flimsi.

Cin, of course, startles them all by asking for confirmation that the Clones— who he had been told were all trained to be very skilled in combat— had no Saber training because remember, Cin and the Temple Guard knew very little about the Clones because they were told that “it’s not I mportant to tell you all, as you won’t be working with the Clones”

Once he has confirmation that no, the Clones didn’t have any Saber training and were expected to go up against Darksiders like Ventress and Dooku with just blasters and their bodies, he just sighs.

The next day he brings three of the Guard and also Bene with him down to the Barracks— and a shit ton of practice Sabers. And who else was there but the Clone Dad ™ we all know and love? That’s right, and guess who thinks training the Clones to use lightsabers is a great idea and “Well, now I wonder why I hadn’t thought of it first, Master Drallig”? 

Plo fucking Koon.

So of course, the 104th is put through what the Padawans had called “Training Hell”— especially since the Clones don’t have years between deployments like the Initiates had before becoming padawans. The Six forms are taught, Cin brings in more of the Guard who have mastered their respective Forms and Bene has fun with the Boys ™ as well because she goes through katas with them, wipes the floor in practice duels with others, and now the Guard has to compete with the 104th (and Plo) spoiling Bene.

( ”You’re spoiling my Padawan, Master Koon” “[laughter] your padawan? I think you mean ours” “If that’s the case then our men should know not to spoil her so much. The Guard do a fantastic job on their own.” )

( This is, of course, without even bothering to ask the Council or the GAR’s higher ups, this is all on his and the Guard’s own actions— its easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. But hey, if Plo Koon was on board than Cin has a leg up if it get brought to the Council anyways. )

When the 104th leaves for the Front again, guess whose Clones are next— the 501st. This time the rumors are going around that the 104th is suddenly more vicious than before and the 501st is eager to know what happened while they were on shore-leave. They soon regret it, because Training Hell is— well— Hell. Anakin and Ahsoka have flashbacks to when they went through Training Hell and Bene laughs at them.

Slowly, each Clone battalion, platoon, company and so on are being trained by a near constant rotation of the Temple Guard, Bene, and Cin— and their own Jedi as well. A few knights that Cin personally trained— like Serra Keto— as well join in when they can. Cin puts in a request to go to Illum and gather more Kyber Crystals for more “training sabers” but half the Council who know and approve of Cin’s actions already know— the man’s planning on making at least a thousand lightsabers for the Vode to pass around.

The Temple Guard have a Lightsaber Building Night where they assemble the “training sabers” together and talk about their Clones because the Vode might have their Jedi Generals, but the Guard have claimed all of the ones they’ve trained as theirs too. Especially the Coruscant Guard.

Bene happily gives Fox, Thorn, Thire, Stone, and Hound their lightsabers first, having assembled all of them with Serra.

(And now for the angst)

It’s all well and good— the GAR starts gaining more ground, less Clones are dying.

And then Operation Knightfall and Order 66 hit.

The Jedi on the ground cannot possibly raise their sabers to these men that they helped train, cant possibly defend from blaster shots while also blocking lightsaber strikes that were taught under the Battlemaster’s strict teaching because he taught them to keep them alive—

And in the Temple?

Well, after Grand Inquisitor murdered all the Guard he could find, even after everything, those that remain are just horrified as they are forced into battle with their vode. Certainly, Cin’s job of protecting the Temple from the Clones is much harder than before, now that they’re armed with Lightsabers and it hurts because “by gods what have I done, I’ve given them the means to kill us all—” but also “I trained these men, they were like the Guard, like my sons—”

Instead of Vader, Cin’s murdered by six lightsaber wielding clones after a split second of faltering because gods he can’t.

And for a split second, when the sabers enter his body, the Clones behind them jolt awake— horrified as they realize that it’s Teacher Drallig on the other end, face twisted in pain as he falls and it’s little Bene’s choking gasps that are behind them as Vader strangles her to death.

But that split second is over too soon, and the Sabers are removed and the Clones move on— good soldiers follow orders, after all, and Teacher Drallig and Little Bene the Jedi Battlemaster and his student were just Traitors, after all. Good soldiers follow orders.

#I had a thought and it sorta vanished but the general idea made it in #Cin Drallig #Bene (Star Wars) #Serra Keto #Plo Koon #Anakin Skywalker #Jedi Temple Guards #Coruscant Guard #Commander Fox #Commander Thorn #Commander Thire #Commander Stone #Commander Hound #104th battalion #Star Wars #star wars: the clone wars #star wars: the expanded universe #Star Wars: EU #star wars the prequel trilogy #AU #Star Wars AU #penguinkiwi talks about writing #alternative universe #Order 66 #Lightsaber Clones

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

My friend is a big fan of you as well and asked me to request this:

A Janus fic based on the song Monster by Dev https://youtu.be/5iA_oFDNt9E

I think the song could fit him quite well, maybe with the others being like “out of all of us, h i m???”

-🦑

Songfic?? With Janus angst?? My time has come *ascends*

CW: Unsympathetic Light Sides (they're not assholes but they're basically unsupportive, concerned for Reader, and hateful/distrustful of Janus)

...........

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

"What?!! [Y/n] this..this cannot possibly be true!"

"Roman-"

"You could've had any one of the fine gentlemen here...but more importantly me.."

"Roman, just calm-"

"And yet you chose him?! That wretched slimy snake?!" The princely Side pointed rudely at Janus, who was just sitting on the couch beside you. He frowned as he fiddled with the chain of his capelet, finding more interest in that than the uncomfortable conversation currently taking place.

This wasn't even the direction you nor him expected it to take. It was already going south..straight towards hell.

All because Remus couldn't keep his mouth shut and blurted out the revelation that you and Janus were dating.

Ironically, he was the one who confessed to you first--something that you're certain no Side would ever believe.

"There's got to be something wrong with your head." Roman shook his head in dismay, before approaching you. "Come now. We'll find you a true Prince Charming! One that's not a vile fibber like-"

Suddenly you sprang up, moving away from him. "You don't get to choose who I fall in love with. Remus.." You glared at the dark half of creativity. "I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't leave right now."

"Do ya promise~?" He giggled, refusing to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation. "You know I'm into that."

"Let it go, [y/n]." Janus tried to assure you. "They're both bumbling fools."

"A fool?!" Roman gasped. "The only fool here is YOU!! Trying to tempt them with your false promises of love and affection! What do you know about romance?!"

"Apparently more than you." You interrupted, standing by your lover in a defensive manner. "I know this isn't exactly how I planned to tell you but god just calm down for a minute."

You definitely didn't anticipate this kind of freakout from him. You thought he'd be asking about the how's and when's of falling in love, as one would expect from the "romantic expert" of the Sides.

You had a plan to tell all of them individually, but..starting with the guy who was deceived most and openly mocked his name probably wasn't a good idea.

Eventually the two halves of creativity left you both alone. And only then did you sit back down next to the now-dejected Janus, holding his hand. "Sorry you had to hear all that."

"Oh don't worry, it'sss new to me." He muttered, squeezing your hand in turn. "I'm sure Roman will have a tough time realizing he's definitely the most handsome one around here." The smirk he gave made you chuckle.

"Yeah, well..he'll get over it. We got off on the wrong foot with him, but I'm sure the others will be more accepting."

He's a monster He's a monster That boy, he's a motherfucking monster But I love him, yeah I love him Ooh ah, ooh ah ah

"Seriously? That guy?"

"Just hear me out, Virgil-"

"Oh I've heard plenty. I'm just warning you that it's a bad idea." Virgil huffed as he put his phone down. "He's a monster who's gonna use you for some selfish gain. You've seen it. He only cares about himself and hurts people to keep it that way."

"I know you've known him longest but...I'm pretty sure at this point he's moved past all of that." You pointed out. "Honestly, the only one being hurt here is him. First Roman, and now you?"

Despite your arguments, he just didn't seem convinced. "I'm not doing this to give you anxiety...I can only do that to Thomas. And I'm not gonna say "breakup with him right now". I'm just telling you that he's not what he seems."

"I appreciate your worries, but I love him and that's that." You insisted, crossing your arms over your chest as you stood defiant. Obviously it was in his nature to tell you to stay cautious, and he'd probably say the same if you were dating anyone else.

But calling Janus a monster seemed awfully harsh. You haven't even heard him call Remus that, which was odd.

'Seriously why is he being such a prick?'

"..whatever you say." Virgil shrugged before sinking out, leaving you alone by the staircase.

"I wouldn't worry. His opinion of me has never changed."

You realized Janus was eavesdropping and turned to face him, sighing. "Jan, are you doing something that's making them be so... brutally honest? This just seems unusual for them."

"Not that I'm aware of." He had briefly removed his glove, indicating he was tell you the truth.

"Hm..then again, Roman and Virgil are sorta the least-rational ones. One's jealous that he doesn't have a date and the other overthinks a lot."

"Wonderful observations, my dear."

"Patton and Logan are more down-to-earth and clear-headed so they might have more understanding."

"I'm sure they will." Janus' tone didn't match the optimistic words he uttered as he slipped the glove back on. "Oh and..I'll try not eavesdrop anymore."

Little did you know, that would be two lies.

Most people are scared When they look him in the eyes, all they see is fear (but) Let me make this clear I want him near

"How can you look into his eyes and..and.."

"Go on."

"And not be scared?! I know I would be, kiddo."

"...Patton, is that seriously your only argument? That he looks creepy?"

"No, no! I just..." For a moment the fatherly Side paused, before he sighed and patted your shoulder. "Listen, I do think you're being a good influence on that wriggly snake but...I only worry he's being a bad influence on you. Every time he's near you I-"

"It sounds like your only argument is "he's a creepy crawly snake so I shouldn't trust or love him". Is that all?"

"It's...a bit more complicated than-"

"It's a yes or no, Pat."

"...I'm trying to look at the bigger picture and, sure there's some good in him but..I worry he's gonna hurt you in the end, that's all. Like he hurt us several times by impersonating us." He tried to reason, but you just brushed his hand off your shoulder in disbelief.

"Wow, I didn't think you'd be one to judge books by their covers." You frowned slightly. "Well let me make this clear: I want him near me. I feel safe around him. I love him, outward appearances and all. So if you can't accept the way I see him then...we're done here."

With no more defenses, Patton sank out as you left the room. But in the hallway you spotted a familiar capelet vanish around the corner, and you found Janus, who manifested a brown eye contact over his snake eye. His scales almost vanished under his skin, but you called out to him before they could disappear entirely.

"Janus? I thought you weren't going to-"

"I..n-never expected Patton of all people to say that.." He held the side of his face shakily, keeping his head lowered so you didn't see the gradually forming tears. Only now he was starting to feel the impact of everyone's words. "If..it's my looks then...I can surely make adjusssstments.."

"No, sweetheart. You don't have to change your looks or be anyone else for me." You cupped a hand over the one that still covered the scales. "C'mon. You can't seriously believe Patton's dumb reasoning, right?"

"........."

All you got was a silent nod.

Most people can't sleep Feeling he's out, on the streets (but) He is my creep He is my creep

"While I see your relationship to Janus is beneficial-"

"Actually, nevermind. You're just gonna tell me the same shit everyone else did."

"...now [y/n], remember what we've discussed on cognitive distortions-"

"Jumping to conclusions? Overgeneralizing? I know. But I have valid reasons for those. You all think Janus is gonna hurt me because he's some "freaky selfish snake". But he's not, alright? He's been more truthful with me lately and I'm sick of the others not believing anything we say. So please, Logan..can you take my side for once?"

Logan was surprised by your outburst. He didn't even know you've talked to the others about Janus and assumed he'd respond in a similar fashion.

But he adjusted his glasses and looked at his notebook, all traces of emotion vanishing. "Logic can't take sides. If you would just listen..I've observed that your interactions with him have been generally positive, and that's helped Thomas-"

"There you go again..why does everything always gotta lead back to Thomas? Can't you just recognize Janus as his own person without assuming I'm only dating him to help-?"

"Because he can't be distracted from his core function!!"

You jumped a bit as he slammed down the notebook, scowling at you with a slight orange tinge behind his glasses. Though it was quick to disappear as he sighed. "He can never be his own person. You two will never have a truly normal relationship. I only advise that you keep that in the back of your mind."

And just like that, he left.

Every discussion you've had with a "Light" Side only left the bitter taste of frustration in your mouth...

Now what should you-?

You were startled again as you heard a nearby door slam shut, before realizing who overheard this conversation.

"Shit."

Is he human, does it matter I know he's what I'm after I can reel him, from disaster I know

"So..th-that's how they all see me, huh? A monster..n-not even a person."

"Jan.." Joining your boyfriend on the king-sized mattress, decorated in black and gold much like himself, you could finally see those walls he built up now crumbling to pieces.

One way or another, he heard what every Side had to say about him. And it was more than enough for him to realize they not only shun him for simply existing..

But they refuse to accept the idea that he's worthy of love, too. He can take the name-calling and insults in the videos, but this is what truly broke him.

He just scratched at his scales, his human eye already red and raw from crying as he wondered why you went through all of this just for him.

Any sane person would listen to the others and just breakup with him. He wasn't worth the effort.

You clearly deserved better.

You deserved someone who's more handsome, chill, kindhearted, or sensible-

"I know you can't truly be human but..does it matter?"

"...does it?" He sniffled, leaning into your touch more as you ran a hand through his hair. "Because apparently not. I know I'm not a perfect, flawless individual..I-I don't expect any of us to be. But if only I-I never-"

"Jan..you can't focus on what you can't change. I know you feel guilty, and if the others can't see that...it's their own fault. I won't stop fighting for us and for your happiness. I love you, okay?" Turning to him fully, you cupped both sides of his face and looked into his eyes.

"And in case you think I'm lying, I'll say it again: I. Love. You. None of their words will change that."

Hearing you become so determined to love him despite all odds made him sob again, this time from relief, as you put your arms around him.

Nobody's ever taken his side on anything...and certainly never defended him the way you did.

You felt several extra arms manifest to hug you back, and you smiled, closing your eyes.

Maybe in time the others will understand. But while it's true he looked like a monster and had his deceitful ways..

You knew what you were after.

And so did he.

Call the doctor, call the doctor Must be something wrong with me He's a monster, why do I want ya Please tell me, please tell me

#clanask #squid anon #sanders sides x reader #sanders sides imagine #janus sanders x reader #janus sanders #angst #hurt/comfort #songfic

[zipper-dawn]

OKAY.

First time really doing anything like this but I just wanna get it out & see if anyone likes the thought. I say thought, & not theory because I'm tired always & don't have time/energy to really find proof. I just work off vibes & random OH! moments in my mind.

HERE WE GO. [under read more because long]

A lot of the fandom, not all, but most everyone in my corner has come to the consensus that Andrias was likely the "heart" of his trio of calamity bonded peeps. Meanwhile the toad, likely Barrel, was the "wit", & the as of yet, but hold that thought, unnamed frog as "strength".

I love this a lot. 100% agree with that general idea there.

But then we have Barrel's Warhammer, & the idea that this toad, who is supposed to be all about that cleverness & understanding the physical world, bashing heads with a hammer. Sure a fancy one...but nah. I propose instead. He made the hammer for his friend. Who really likes to bash heads & face problems head on. The pink frog. Now, Barrel had to contend with the fact that in order to really smash things, the hammer had to be big. But then the frog isn't really that big, so how will she wield it. & THUS...it gets rockets & is a high-tech hammer of smashing heads.

This is built mostly off Sprig being able to lift the hammer, despite not being particularly able to lift Bog's hammer in Toad Tax. If the tech-hammer was made for toads to wield, why is it light enough for a frog boy to lift, if only with a little effort. & then it seemed to almost react to him, but Sprig certainly wasn't ready & thus the scene happens & it's great. XD

OH & an addendum, thought of later but vaguely related. Also a lot more far fetched. WEH!

Remember that thought I said to hold onto. What if we have been given the pink frog's name, but were thrown off by the written history as we see it...in the Plantar Family Shrub. Polliana. Was a warrior frog. & a Plantar. What if she was from so long ago, & vanished so suddenly, that her actual likeness was distorted & forgotten. What if she was the one who put the Calamity Box in the book Hoppop finds, warning about it, just before she vanished. We're pretty sure Barrel is the toad in the portrait in Andrias's basement, but it hasn't been explicitly stated. So what if in a similar thing, the frog has been an active part of an episode backstory, without being explicitly stated as being who they were. In part because the memory of them has been beyond distorted by time.

But yeah, just my brain throwing things out & seeing what sticks within it's own walls. Barrel made "his" hammer for his friend, a frog with attitude. & Polliana is actually the frog's name, & she is a Plantar, but disappeared & her memory got distorted by time, thus the incorrect portraits for her in the Shrub & her training lair....which was very functional for something abandoned. [I say it was upkept as a sorta remembrance shrine thing. Which was only recently ceased due to rising tensions/taxes/inability to keep up with the upkeep.]

#amphibia #amphibia theories #but not really I promise #I'm mostly just babbling into the void & getting my brain rambles organized a little into actual words & sentences #WEH #my heart hides in fandoms #amphibia meta #babbles of a zipper #BUT NOW I SLEEP

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 25

Part 2 from yesterday's sensory deprivation chapter is here! We pick up right where the last one left off, but switch to Keith's POV this time.

Read on AO3

Read on FFN

Day 25 - Disorientation/Blurred Vision/Ringing Ears

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: restraints, stress position, muzzles, burns, dislocation, sensory deprivation, referenced torture

Everything hurt.

The hundreds of bruises all over his body throbbed. His legs, arms, and back ached from the position he had been forced into for so long. Several places on his torso burned where the cattle prod, for lack of a better term, had been used. There were stinging lines etched into his face from the metal muzzle. His ribs protested every time he took a breath. And his shoulder…

His shoulder was definitely the worst of it all. Dislocated. Screaming at him constantly for relief, but with his arms wrenched up behind his back so far that his head hung down by his knees, there was no relief to be found. It didn’t help that every time he thought he saw something move or heard some small sound - which was impossible, he hadn’t seen or heard anything real in...he didn’t know, probably days - he couldn’t help but flinch, which made pain flare in pretty much every part of his body.

The blindfold was still soaked with the tears that had escaped during the last torture session. He wasn’t sure whether anyone had noticed that he was crying or not, but it wasn’t like it really mattered. They had seen plenty of weakness from him. He had definitely screamed, even if he hadn’t been able to hear it. 

What mattered, though, was that he had stayed strong during the first couple of days when they had pressed him for information about the Coalition. He didn’t give in. All that had gotten him was into the situation he was in now, but it was okay. Yes, he hurt, and he was hallucinating, and he had no idea who or what might be around him at any given time and was scared out of his mind that the torture was going to start up again any second, but it was okay. As long as all of those people stayed safe. And Pidge.

She was here somewhere. He knew she had been captured at the same time as him, though he wasn’t sure whether she knew that he had been right behind her. For days he had hoped against hope that they were leaving her alone, that all of the attention they were giving him meant that they hadn’t gotten to her yet and she would remain unharmed until the team could come rescue her. He couldn’t stand the thought of any of what had been done to him happening to her.

Then they had moved him into another room. He didn’t know where, of course, but he knew that they walked him a distance that was mostly straight and longer than the length of his cell. Nothing really new had happened once they got there, just more of the same shocks and kicks and general torture. But something about the way there were long pauses in between, and sometimes even in the middle, made him think of an interrogation. Only he, for obvious reasons, couldn’t be interrogated. So were they using him to interrogate someone else? 

The realization that he could be being used against Pidge made his stomach drop. He didn’t think she’d cave on his behalf, she was much too strong and smart for that, and he doubted he meant enough to her to even think of risking so many other lives, anyway. But she was still just a kid. They all were, technically, but she was the youngest of all of them. She didn’t need to have to watch something like this. 

Plus, selfishly, he hated the thought of being seen in such a weak state in front of anyone, especially someone he knew and...and cared about.

Things had been quiet for a while. Well, maybe quiet was the wrong term to use, since he had been living in absolute silence other than the roar of his own blood and the rush of his own labored breathing for what seemed like ages. If somebody didn’t remove this blindfold and earplugs and muzzle soon, he was pretty sure he was gonna go mad.

But it had been a while since anyone had touched him. A fact he should have been grateful for, and he was. It was difficult, though, not to focus on the part where someone could touch him again, at any time, and he would have no idea it was coming, and it was guaranteed to hurt. He hated it. Hated this waiting, this not knowing, this constant adrenaline pounding through his veins because even if he wasn’t in a stress position he wouldn’t have been able to relax, every inch of him tense and expecting the next blow.

When something finally changed, he flinched just as hard as he thought he would, then moaned through his teeth at the pain in his shoulder. It took a moment for him to realize that the movement had come from his wrists, and that they were slowly being lowered. Gratefully, he let his arms drop until they rested against his back. His shoulder eased from a stab to an ache.

But he didn’t have the strength to stand upright himself, and without the chain holding him in that position, he began to topple without a way to stop it. He expected to smash into the floor. He was sure they’d enjoy watching that.

Instead, he fell against a body, a small body, that barely kept him from face planting and lowered him to his knees. Why, he didn’t know. He didn’t have the mental energy to try to figure out why or who, not when he was too busy waiting for the pain.

Something touched the sides of his head, and he jerked backwards, biting back a whine when it jarred everything. The something - hands, probably - persisted, following him. Keith forced himself to freeze in place, every muscle tense, and just wait for whatever it was they were gonna do to him next. It would only hurt worse if he resisted.

The hands fumbled at his temples for just a tick longer before the blindfold was suddenly ripped off. The light that flooded in was blinding. Crying out, he ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut. They were so dry, from crying and from not sleeping in forever, it felt like his eyelids were full of sand.

Come on, you finally get the advantage of seeing what’s coming, now open your eyes! But he couldn’t hold them open, not when there was suddenly so much light, and even when the hands came back and tugged his head up so that he was facing straight ahead again, he couldn’t make out who or what was right in front of him. Everything was just a bright blur.

One of the hands went for his ear next, popping out whatever kind of plug they had stuffed in there, and the chaos that descended on his brain then was so much worse than the removal of the blindfold. Noise exploded into that one ear. Whatever was going on was the loudest thing he had ever heard in his life, and stabs of pain shot through his head. He doubled over, trying to get away, trying to hide, trying to press his ear up against anything that might block out some of the sound.

To his relief and slight confusion, his head was wrenched to the side and the ear plug was stuck back in. Silence fell. He lay there on his side with his eyes still closed, panting as best he could through the muzzle, trying to recover while the remnants of sound rang in his ears. This must have been the newest form of torture, suddenly giving back his senses, though he was surprised they hadn’t let him writhe longer. They probably didn’t want to give him the chance to get used to hearing again, so that they could keep doing it over and over.

Suddenly the link holding his manacled wrists together vanished. His hands were free. For a moment he froze, his brain swirling with pain and panic and trying to figure what the quiznak kind of trap this was, until his normal instincts took over. Squinting his eyes open as much as he dared, Keith sprang into action and lunged. They were going to regret giving him any kind of freedom. They were going to pay for what they had done. They were...Pidge?

As soon as he had tackled the much-too-small assailant to the floor, his vision cleared enough to make out a familiar pair of brown eyes staring at him in fear from behind round lenses. Pidge. She was here. And he had almost…

Scrambling frantically backwards off of her, he whimpered as his abused body hit the floor again, and cradled his injured arm to his side. I’m sorry, he wanted to cry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, are you okay? But the stupid muzzle wouldn’t let him, and somewhere in the midst of his panicking he realized that she was actually speaking. He blinked, narrowing his eyes at her mouth and trying to make out her words through his still blurred vision. 

“You’re okay,” she was saying. “Keith, it’s okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted you to know it was me.”

He gave a meek, wobbly nod to let her know he understood. He wouldn’t have known how to not freak him out, either, so he didn’t blame her. It was just good to see her. 

Pidge scooted closer to him on her knees, slowly, as if not to spook him. “The team is here.” Ah, so that was all the noise he heard. “They stopped by to give me this -” she held up her bayard with a little wiggle -“so that I could break us out of here. If you’ll let me get that stupid contraption off of you, then we can go catch up with them. You can keep the earplugs in if you want.”

He nodded again. Yes, he desperately wanted the muzzle off. And yes, he wanted the earplugs in. At least for now, until he could take them out in a quieter place. His ears were still ringing from having just the one out before.

She smiled a little crookedly, then crept around behind him and started fiddling with the straps on the back of his head. Even when he could see - sorta - and knew it was her, he still couldn’t help but stiffen at the contact. But a moment later the straps loosened, and he was able to reach up with his good arm and start to pry the muzzle off his face. The metal pulled against raw skin. 

Pidge reappeared to help, though he had to quickly grab onto her wrist to keep her from pulling too fast. Her eyes widened in surprise as they caught his. Seeming to understand, she went back to work slowly with a furrowed brow that deepened as she realized she was also pulling a bit out of his mouth. As soon as the hated thing was off, she pitched it across the room, glaring at it as if she wanted to slice it apart with her bayard.

“Thanks.” He didn’t have to be able to hear his voice to know that it came out as little more than a rasp.

She turned back to him, a frown on her face. “I’m really sorry, Keith. You shouldn’t have had to...that was awful. I wanted to help you, I really did, but they wanted me to -”

“I know.” He swallowed past the sandpaper in his throat, wincing, and held her wrist again, gently this time. “The Coalition. They asked me, too. You couldn’t help me. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not okay.” He could see well enough now to watch the tears that spilled down her cheeks. “They were hurting you. And I couldn’t do anything to stop them.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I still hated it.” She paused, chewing on her lip. “I really wanna hug you. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

His lips twitched upward at the corners, and he stretched his good arm out toward her. Hugging wasn’t really his thing. But he knew how much a hug could mean to somebody who had just gone through something hard, and he wasn’t going to deprive her of that. Besides, it probably would do him some good, too.

Pidge very tenderly eased herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around him lightly so as not to bother his ribs. Keith dropped his hand down onto her back. The warmth of her body seeped through her flight suit and into his battered, bare skin, and it was more soothing than he had expected. With a sigh, he let his chin rest on top of her head.

When he stopped and thought about it, he was pretty sure this was his first one on one hug with Pidge. He had had a few “little sisters” over the years, more official than her according to the government, but she felt more like an actual little sister to him than any of them ever had. They spent time together fairly often, usually with him just hanging out in her lab while she either worked in silence or rambled about her projects, but physical affection hadn’t really been a thing between them. Maybe he should try to change that. This hug thing was kinda nice.

After a moment she pulled back, shoving her hand up underneath her glasses to wipe at her eyes. She smiled at him. “Let’s get you out of here, ‘kay?” 

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Sounds good.”

#whumptober2020 #no.25 #disorientation #blurred vision #ringing ears #Voltron: Legendary Defender #fic #restraints tw #sensory deprivation tw #stress position tw #muzzle tw #burns tw #dislocation tw #torture tw #keith #keith kogane #vld keith #voltron keith #hurt keith #keith whump #voltron whump #voltron #vld #voltron legendary defender #voltron fanfic #vld fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

[scaryscarecrows]

Beggar, Pick Up Your Crown

AN: Title from Jerry Cantrell’s ‘Siddhartha’. Takes place the day after ‘Out of Hell’.

Happy birthday, Jason!

* * * 

Jason wakes from the...he’s thinking the third-best nights’ sleep he’s had in his whole life. First one was...pfft, one’a those random nights, Mom had been feeling okay, and they’d stayed up to see the sunrise and made s’mores on the stove. Second had been after his first. His. Patrol. First patrol.

He has no idea what time it is, and he’s afraid to open his eyes, lest last night turn out to be a dream. He stays still for the moment, concentrating on the cheap hotel mattress under his still-aching body, the smell of complimentary soap and cleaner and that lingering people have been born, had sex, and probably died in this room smell that these sorts of places have. He can hear rain and traffic and general Gotham Living outside and in the rooms around him.

And he’s hungry.

Okay. Okay. He’s woken up out of nice dreams before, and it hurts, but. But he can do it again. One more time.

Please…

He cracks his eyes open.

The room is beige and...rusty orange...and very bright. Well, bright to him, anyway. It’s empty, but he rolls over and, muscles protesting the whole time, peers under the bed. Zilch.

Still unconvinced he’s not hallucinating or unwillingly playing one of the clown’s head games, Jason stumbles out of the warm bed, ankle cracking horribly when he makes it take his weight, and shuffles to the bathroom. Nothing. Nothing in the shower, or wedged into the little cabinet under the sink. He’s alone here.

He lets his breath out slowly, slumping forward against the sink to take some of the pressure off his ankle. He’ll have to look at it later, look at everything later, but...but not now. Not this second, huh?

His hair’s too long; his bangs are in his eyes and he can feel dead ends scraping the back of his neck. No way in hell is he letting anyone near him with scissors. That’s okay. He did self-trims when he was a kid.

He’s out.

He’s out, he’s free of that monster. That bastard’s never going to hurt him ever again. The thought makes him lightheaded, brings an unfamiliar twist to his lips that feels like it might be a smile.

And then he makes the mistake of looking up at the mirror.

The boy-no, he’s not a boy anymore, is he-looking back at him looks dead. He’s pasty white, thin and hollow-cheeked with no spark to his eyes. There’s cuts and gashes all over his face, his nose is crooked, and...and there’s that. The brand on his face, the one that still hurts, the one that screams to the world, PROPERTY OF THE JOKER, IF FOUND, PLEASE RETURN!

I’ll never get away from him.

The mirror shatters under his fist, shards jabbing in between his knuckles and falling into the sink and bouncing off the counter to hit the tiles by his feet. He doesn’t care. He can’t face this he can’t face this he can’t--

This is too much for his ankle; it buckles and then he’s kneeling in the glass, sobbing so hard it’s silent and hurts his throat and chest. He chokes, doubles over so’s his forehead’s pressed against his knees, bites down on his lips to try and...and…

Willis always said, ‘boys don’t cry’. Bruce hadn’t...he’d never known what to do with tears. Or any outpouring of emotion, for that matter. And Joker had loved them. But Jason? Right now, he doesn’t care about any of that. He wants Mom, but Mom can’t be here anymore.

It takes him several minutes to register that the tears have stopped and that he’s just...huddled here on the floor with glass jutting out of his skin. The glass doesn’t hurt, but his ankle does and he slowly and carefully brings it up to investigate.

It’s swollen and hot to the touch and it...something about it doesn’t look quite right. He’ll wrap it, he decides, he’ll get a compression bandage or something later today. Okay. He’s okay. He’s just gotta breathe, get up, clean this mess up because he was raised better than to leave this shit for the housekeeper, and then...if he is where he thinks he is, there’s a bodega two blocks south, one that has a gray tabby that lounges in the window. They’ll have a thing of chips or something he can choke down (safely), maybe bandages. Definitely a hoodie, at least, a nice touristy hoodie.

He can make it two blocks. Like he’s got a choice, but he can make it two blocks.

* * *

The smell of rotting watermelons, cheap ice cream bars, and packaged bread is possibly one of the best things Jason’s ever smelled in his life. He’s starving, and now, confronted with food choices, he knows he’s gonna have to exercise some restraint and not just devour a stale baguette in the middle of the store. Crackers. And maybe a soup-cup-thing, that’s mild. And, uh, cranberry juice, yeah, that’s sorta healthy. And a Reese’s. If the Reese’s makes him sick, it’ll be worth it.

The owner is dancing lightly to the mariachi on the radio and the cat is more interested in the birds outside than in him, which means he can limp through the store on his own sweet time. They do have bandages, and the food he thinks he can do, and a red hoodie* proclaiming, I Survived Gotham. It’ll do.

What’s worrying him-apart from, you know, everything else-is where he found money last night. He doesn’t remember a damn thing after leaving Arkham, and it scares him. Mystery for later, though, because he’s hungry and grateful he doesn’t have to rob the bodega man, who-miracle of miracles-doesn’t so much as look up at him. He pulls the hoodie on the second he’s outside, though, tugs the hood up to try and cover the damn thing at least a little.

He doesn’t know what to do.

He can’t go back to him-he’ll die first-and he can’t...s’like they say, you can never go home again. If Wayne Manor was ever home. 

Left me he left me with him he said he’d always be there and he fucking left me with that bastard--

He just doesn’t know what to do.

He stumbles back into the hotel room, debates on whether or not he wants to use the grody microwave provided, and decides that yes, yes he does. This will be the first real food he’s had in over a year and he wants to try and enjoy it, if that’s possible.

Man, he hasn’t had one of these in...geeze, since before Mom died. They’re not Old Money Approved, after all. Good. He’s not Old Money Approved, either.

It’s done, he decides, when it pops and the lid gets all soft and hot. It smells okay. Safe, anyway, no hint of Joker venom or any other little surprises. The steam curls around his face, making the...the burn a little tender, but it’s fine. It’s fine. He bought it all sealed up and he’s the only one who’s touched it. He took off the safety tin.

So why can’t he eat it? His appetite’s vanished, even though he knows he needs to eat, it’s just…

You gotta eat, baby.

That sounds like Mom, and it should be concerning, but...he does need to eat. And he can’t just chug it, either, much as he’d like to get it over with. He’s gotta be slow and careful.

Cracker! He’ll dip a cracker in.

The soup’s hot and salty on his tongue, miles above the slop he’s been eating in the asylum. Once he swallows the slightly soggy cracker, his appetite returns with a vengeance and it’s an effort not to pour half the column of crackers in, smash them to bits with the spoon, and eat the resulting mush here and now. But he can’t. He’ll be sick. Hell, he might be sick anyway, who knows.

He dunks another cracker in, catches a wispy noodle on it this time. Jesus. Jesus Christ, this is it, he’s living on soup and crackers forever, this is the best thing he’s eaten in his life--

--no. No it isn’t, is it. Alfred. Alfred made…

Not now. Just eat.

That’s right. He can’t think about anything, that’s not...he’s spent a long time, trapped in his own head. Not now. He can’t do that now. Food first.

The soup goes down easily enough, the cran juice a little less so but it stays in, and then he has to admit that yup, time for some self-examination.

He’s not facing the mirror-or what’s left of it-again. It’s better to stay here, to strip off despite knowing that hotel beds are scuzzy, and, well, survey the damage. And there is a lot of damage. Burn scars, wire scars, marks he can’t even begin to trace. He doesn’t really want to know what his back looks like, but he’ll have to find out.

Further poking the ankle says that oh, sure, it’s...healing, or maybe as good as it’s gonna get, but that squeezing certain spots of it makes his vision go white and over-manipulating it is worse than that. He puts the bandage on it, because what else can he do, and struggles back into his clothes. No more. He can’t do more right now.

* * *

Jason does not mean to fall into a fitful sleep, but that’s what happens. He wakes up gasping and soaked in sweat, a man’s shouting echoing in his ears. Sounds like Willis.

After a minute of lying here, he comes to realize that it isn’t Willis, and it isn’t a dream. It’s...lobby, something’s going on in the lobby.

Shit.

It’s hard to move as steathily as he used to, but he’s still quieter than the average schmuck when he slips out of bed and opens the door to creep down the hall. It’s late, which means the clerk should be alone, which makes them easy pickings. People never change, much as Batman insists that they do.

The shouting man has a gun. He’s wearing a scarf around the lower half of his face and he’s actually kinda big. Looks plenty comfortable threatening a woman half his size.

He doesn’t think, just moves; grabs one of the little chairs near the doors and hurls it

Owowowow not good movement not good

at the man’s back. He trips, gun falling from his fingers and sliding under the desk. The woman, wisely, ducks.

“What the fuck--oh, we got us a Batman-wannabe.” The guy cracks his back. “Come on, then, hero.”

He’s out of practice. Doesn’t mean he’s helpless. He dodges the oncoming haymaker and retaliates by going straight for the jugular.

Or, in this case, the balls. Fighting fair does not get you far in life.

The bravado vanishes. It’s hard to be badass when you’re shrieking like a little girl with your testicles twisted in a fist. Jason lets go, headbutts him to get him down, and steps around him to fish the gun out from under the desk.

“Get the hell out of here,” he says, more out of breath than he should be after that. His shoulders hurt from the throw. That can’t be good. “Or pray to God Batman shows up to save you in the next thirty seconds.”

“You son of a bitch--”

“Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight. Twenty-seven--”

“I’ll kill you!”

He cocks the gun. Little awkwardly, it’s true-Bruce taught him the absolute bare minimum of gun handling-but it gets his point across.

“Twenty-six. Twenty-five.”

The man can’t quite get upright, but he manages to hobble outside. Jason doesn’t chase after him. He’s shaking, a little, and the gun’s awkward in his hand.

“Thank you.” Oh. Yeah. He forgot about her. “I don’t know--he wanted money, I guess--”

“Don’t they all.” He doesn’t turn around. He can’t; he’s way too identifiable. “You’re welcome.” Back to his room it is, to get his crap and clear out. “I’m gonna check out before the cops show.”

“I’m not calling them.” Huh. “They never come. That’s the third time in two months we’ve had someone in here.”

Figures.

He doesn’t answer-what do you say, huh?-, just shuffles back to his room. He doesn’t realize, until the door’s locked behind him, that he’s still got the gun.

Well, he figures, as he stumbles back towards the bed, at least if Joker manages to track him here, he won’t have to go back. He’ll kill the clown or himself, it doesn’t matter which, but he’s not going back.

He crawls under the blankets this time, tries to get a little more comfortable. It must work, because in five minutes, he’s out. Nothing wakes him this time.

THE END

*Arkham!Jason has a fondness for red hoodies even pre-Red Hood; both baby Jay and grown-up Jay are shown wearing one in the prequels. For obvious reasons. :p

#Jason Todd #arkhamverse #takes place literally less than 24 hours after his escape #fic

[liw-the-melancholic-apple]

The first one  - Bonusscenes in traditional written word

This is a smau and a zukoXreader, although i haven't decided how this ends yet.

Y/n has recently transferred to Ba Sing Se from Omashu university and meets the gaang through a schoolproject they do with sokka and suki.

Masterlist

Bonus 3: Partytime

It was a short walk from the metrostation to the park in which the party was held. Suki and Sokka had explained to you that their friend Haru had helped organise it. Apparently, it was a thing the Psychology department threw every year – that was to say the students of the Psych faculty. Haru was one of them and deeply involved in Campus life.

Sokka had said that you were going to be gobsmacked and mind boggled by the professionality with which the party would be set up and you had laughed. Shame on you for not believing him. He had been right.

The park was obviously of the public variety and so you expected a couple speakers, and crates of beer strewn about. What you didn’t expect were fairylights in every last tree and bush, a DJ set-up of the highest quality and amazing sound from all the speakers one could imagine, or three tents with bars in them, where drinks were reasonably priced. You hadn’t been expecting the benches, couches and tables made from pallets used in warehouses or the abundance of cushions and pillows. You hadn’t expected the camping chairs and the make-shift firepit. It was insane and you stood in awe as you failed to follow Suki.

“You coming?”, Aang laughed before he grabbed you by the hand. You first made your way to one of the bars, then, equipped with alcoholic goodness, Suki introduced you to Haru, who turned out to be an ex-roommate of Zuko’s. He also played guitar in what he called an inappropriately ambitious garage band, which intrigued you. But before you really got to interview him on any of that, he was disappeared by a friend of his.

Suki found a couple of her Kyoshi sorority sisters and introduced you to them and their partners. It turned out that your initial idea of fraternities and sororities was wrong: They were not all terrible and not all ‘brothers’ and ‘sisters’ were stuck up snobs. Suki was the best example of that. She was amazing and clever and smart. And very kind and not at all elitist. After all she was the one who invited you to this shindig. Her ‘sisters’ and their boyfriends and girlfriends, some of which were also in fraternities and sororities, were as kind and open as Suki was and you spent a good portion of your night learning names, trying to remember the history of the different organisations and their respective significance to BSSU, being taught simple fight stances and moves from the Kyoshi’s and laughing.

You laughed a lot. Only halfway through the night, hours later, after Sokka had joined you again, when you had lost all sense of being a stranger, you realised how desperate you’d been for this kind of interaction. This kind of laughing, dancing, making fun of people and talking bullshit. How much you had needed to be part of a group. How lonely you had actually been.

But at this moment, while you were trying to not spit out your beer as you listened to a story about Suki, expertly told by Mamoto, who was either someone’s boyfriend or someone’s brother – who knew? There were so many people and so many connections and a good deal of friends dating a friend’s ex – you didn’t think about what you’d needed for two months. You thought about … nothing? Everything? Really, you just let your thoughts drift, like you drifted yourself. From conversation to conversation, from person to person, from group to group, from subject to subject.

As nervous as you’d been standing in front of the dragon, as relaxed you were now. You didn’t really care about the music or the drink you had in your hand – you were not overdoing it, though, you were still new and needed to make a good expression – you cared about the company. And the company was excellent.

Bian, one of the Kyoshi-sisters, and her girlfriend Tuyet had claimed you after they found out about Gray Sky.

“A band? Like a proper band?”

“I mean that depends on your definition of ‘proper’ but, yeah? There were several people, playing several different instruments in order to create a coherent song.”

“Which means a proper band!”, Tuyet assured you.

“Have you ever played at a place? Or like an actual concert?”, Bian wanted to know.

“We used to play Friday nights at a bar.”

“Proper band!”, they both smiled at you.

“You should meet TaMing. She was a Kyoshi-sister before she dropped out of college. She plays in the same band as Haru.”

“Oh, I’ve met him. Seems nice.”

“Right, right. He is. Usually he brings his guitar to these things. At some point he will sit at the bonfire over there “, Bian explained, “and play some typical bonfire music. He’s good. You should go over there.”

“Not right now, though. I would first like to know what you think of Sokka!” Bian’s face was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if she liked or hated him but in a sense you also didn’t care. Your answer came instantly: “He’s great!” He was. A funny kind person with some brains. Admittedly, he didn’t look like a genius or ever put a lot of emphasis on how much excelled academically, but that didn’t take his intellect away. His jokes and nonchalant-ness were inviting and genuine and deceptively ‘hid’ his smarts. Sokka wasn’t intimidating when you first met him, but that didn’t mean that you shouldn’t be scared of him.

You were quite certain that you wouldn’t want to cross Sokka. You’d be dead. You’d be killed until dead. But it would look like an accident…

“Don’t you think he is a bit too goofy?”

“No, I don’t. I mean he sure is goofy, but I find that to be delightful.”

“Give it a couple more weeks.”

“You don’t like Sokka?”

“No, I like him! I just also find him annoying, I could do without all the dumb jokes. But he’s good to Suki and really, that’s the only thing that matters…If he makes her happy who am I to complain about some goofy puns, you know?” You liked Bian.

So, a little later you followed her to the camping chairs by the bonfire. This is where you met back up with Toph, who you now realised you hadn’t seen in a hot minute. Just like a bunch of the others. In the beginning of your little Kyoshi-session you had all but held hands with Suki and Katara, but Suki soon left you in order to wash someone’s head about their head – Wan is that you? In Ba Sing Se? – so you held on to Katara who vanished quickly after Suki with what looked like Aang.

Now you were reunited with Toph you brought out the bottle of Banana liqueur you got earlier that day. Toph tried some and declared you crazy. It was an acquired taste. While you were drinking your respective drinks Toph explained the general basics of the group to you:

“Well, you obviously know that Sokka and Suki are dating. That’s a nice spot to start. Suki is new, Sokka is old, meaning that I knew Sokka before I knew Suki. Suki just is Sokka’s girlfriend to me, you know. He went off to college and weeks later we were hearing about this badass girl he tried to get to like him. It was very entertaining.” You chuckled at the idea of Sokka trying to impress Suki before they were dating.

“Anyways, I heard about Suki because I was friends with Sokka in High School. Sort of. I was friends with Aang, who was friends with everyone in High School, because, well you’ve met him. He’s Aang. He’s friends with people. But he was pretty close to Katara and Sokka, after they met. And us four kinda became our own little core group.

So, Sokka, Katara, Aang and I are all old, while Suki, Zuko, Haru and you would be new.”

“Well”, you interrupted her, “I wouldn’t dream to compare my standing with you core group to Suki’s position. I just met you. She’s been dating Sokka for how long?”

“2 years 10 months.” That was quick. She just knew that. Off the top of her head. You made a mental note.

“And Zuko has probably been a part of your group for a while as well, right?”

“More or less since after he graduated. His time at uni did him well, I’d say. We ran into him around new year’s of his freshman-year here”, she whirled her arms around, hitting Tuyet in the face.

“Sorry, I thought you were further away. Anyways,  he started being nice and I think we ended up together on New Year’s. And after that he bonded with Sokka in his first year here. So, you know, Suki – Zuko – Suki -Zuko – about the same time they joined.

And back then Zuko lived with Haru, so that’s how we met him.”

You kept drinking and chatting until Sokka burst onto the scene looking for Suki. When he couldn’t immediately find her, he asked you for the bottle of rum you still had.

“Listen, it’s late and I’m not waiting for my illusive girlfriend to bring me a drink, to start catching up!”, Sokka yelled after you commented on how much of the bottle he had emptied in just his first gulp. “I asked Suki to get my drink ready and await me, but she ignored that… No, Toph. No.”

He held the bottle out of her reach and twisted his shoulder weirdly, so that she’d never guess where exactly the rum was. He kept cradling the bottle while Haru and some friends found their way to the bonfire and – like Bian had promised – broke out the guitars. They were good. Really good. You hummed along to some of the songs and joined the choir of Toph, Sokka, Suki, Zuko and a bunch of strangers in the choruses of most others.

Suki took the bottle off Sokka, nearly as soon as she arrived, but when the 90’s boyband hits sounded through the park, Zuko gave it back to him.

“Poor Suki, will not agree with that”, you grinned as he caught you watching him.

“Maybe, but you will. Believe me”, Zuko said with a smirk and a wink.

He was right. With another two gulps of rum, Sokka was ready to not only sing solos but also presenting his version of well-known boyband-choreographies.

“You still judging me?” Zuko leaned over and gestured for the bottle of Banana liquor.

“Yes, sorta. I’m still feeling for Suki. She will not have a good time tonight.”

“You really underestimate Sokka, you know. He’ll be just fine. And so will she. Maybe a little exhausted because he’s going to be full of energy all night.”

“What about the hangover tomorrow?”

“They don’t live together.”

“Sounds like a technicality…”

“Meh”

With a look Zuko asked permission to try the Banana liquor and, with a look, you gave it to him. His face twisted in various amusing ways before nodding.

“Not what I expected. Gotta say it. But I think I may like it.”

“Take like, two more sips. You should be a fan after.”

He followed your instructions and grinned at you. “It is unique, I give you that.”

“You can always give me the bottle back.”

He kept it. What happened to it, you didn’t know but it never found it’s way back to you. Zuko either emptied it or he passed it on to someone. Not that you cared. Suki had reluctantly joined Sokka in his choreography and, surprisingly, so had Bian and Tuyet and some other Kyoshi sisters. Tuyet was pulling you from your seat to join. Toph pushed you off the chair and when all said and done you had been dancing stupid choreos of Sokka’s for about 80 minutes and missed Zuko leaving. Thus was created the mystery of the Banana liquor. 

The night ended late. It was early morning and the birds were chirping when you carried the last of the boards that had made up the bars to the van. It would be locked and collected tomorrow by some Psychology student. Haru offered his parents’ house as refuge for the night as a reward for helping to tidy up. You all had gladly agreed. Sokka was still singing 90’s anthems to entertain you all and you weren’t the only ones tidying up. It was rather fun, really.

When you arrived at the house you didn’t really take in the details. You were shown a room and fell into the bed, fast asleep before your head hit the pillow.

#atla fanfic #atla zuko #smau #avatar: tla #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader

[diredigression]

hey yo can I get an order of "temperance" with Sole aaaand surprise me with who she's with wink emoji

temperance: communication, healing, moderation;

“I’m here for you. You can talk to me.” possible AUs/settings/ideas: comfort, deep talks, hugging, woundtending  

Finally got this out! Hope it’s worth the wait!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

It was just a raider den-clearing like any other. Sole needed to get out, clear her head, kill some jackasses, and Hancock was all too happy to oblige. She’d had time to cope with her experience inside the Institute, and this felt like a step back towards normal. She’d picked off a couple sentries from cover, then she’d then charged into the fray swinging as the rest realized they were under attack. Hancock was there at her back, blasting away any that tried to jump her from behind.

They’d missed one, apparently. A little smarter than the others, this one must’ve hung back, avoided the rush, sniped from a distance.

Sole goes down with a bullet to the thigh.

She lurches back to her feet, pain and rage fogging her head. She’s not at her best, but she’ll be damned if she’s gonna let one bullet stop her. She vaguely hears pained roaring and shotgun blasts as she struggles to return to the rhythm of the fight. She swings at the raider in front of her, screaming with the effort, and he crashes to the ground. Her head swings wildly, glaring back and forth, but the only figure she sees is the familiar red shape, oddly out of focus. “Hancock! Any more?”

“All finished.” His voice is hoarse. “Still with me? We're gonna wanna take care of that. C’mere.”

The red shape is now pulling one of her arms around his shoulders with his arm hooked around her middle, hauling her away. She tries to pry him off—”I’m fine, I can walk, let me go—” but is frustrated to find that, actually, neither words nor walking are coming easily now that the adrenaline rush is fading. She resigns herself to his help, and he half drags her towards shelter. All of her attention goes to her feet, on keeping them under her, on not stumbling and pulling that leg again on a broken piece of concrete, and to her hands clinging to the heavy cloth of his coat like a lifeline. After far too long she’s lowered with some difficulty onto something kind of soft, a bedroll, must be the raiders’ sleeping area. She tries to prop herself up against the wall, but she’s not angled right and that damn leg is useless and every stress renews the searing pain. She closes her eyes, forcing herself to relent, sagging into the cushioning, letting awareness recede behind the roaring of her body.

“Sole? Hey, come back to me. You gotta get these pants off so I can get to that wound.”

She manages a slight facial twitch in lieu of a frown. She doesn’t want to deal with the outside. Why can’t it just fix the problem without her?

“I know you like these pants. Don’t make me cut them off ya.”

She groans. Forces her awareness through the surface of the fog, just enough to push her eyes open and verify the situation. Yes, that’s still Hancock, kneeling at her hip with an expression she can’t interpret. Yes, there’s a lot of pain in that leg. Pants probably have to go. She forces her arms up, fumbles with the pants, gets them off with some assistance. With the effort returns a bit of clarity—a shot to the thigh, yeah. Could be bad. Forces herself upwards to examine the wound. It’s hardly the first time you’ve been shot, get with it, you’ve got to take care of yourself. Doesn’t look like the artery’s been hit. Of course, if it had been hit, she probably wouldn’t be conscious by this point anyway.

“Lie down, let me take care of this.” His hands are pushing hers away from the wound. A fragment of consciousness spares a moment to note the grounding, almost hot grip of his fingers.

“Just another shot. Gimme a stim.” She’s still struggling with words, and her attempts to grab in the general direction of supplies probably aren’t helping her case.

“It went through your thigh, you need help. You can barely even lift yourself.”

“S’not bad. Got it myself.”

“Just shut up and let me do it.”

Something in the ghoul’s voice gives her pause. Then another thought hits her. “No joke ‘bout gettin’ my pants off?”

A beat, then a chuckle that doesn’t quite manage to sound casual. “Oh, now you miss my jokes? Didn’t ya threaten my life last time?”

“What’s wrong?”

“…this is gonna burn.” And burn it does as he pours alcohol on the wound. Luckily, the burn at least helps numb it a little to the following stabs of the stimpak. He works with practiced efficiency and she finds herself able to let go a little more easily. Soon enough he’s put away the supplies and sat back. She looks up to find him shrugging out of his coat. He drapes it across her exposed legs.

“What’re you doin’? We gotta get back. Get me clean pants and we’ll go.”

“No, you’re stayin’ right there. You gotta rest.”

“What’s the problem?”

She looks back up at him. The stimpak is doing its job and the pain is fading from her brain, freeing space for consciousness. And, strangely, she finds that as she watches him her rage begins to fade as well, replaced with…concern? Is that it? He sits next to her, knees pulled up to his chest, arms folded around them, staring at the coat across her legs. He looks so slight without it, in just the white shirt and vest. The ghoul is so naturally larger-than-life, she always forgets how small he really is.

“I thought I was gonna lose ya.”

“From one bullet to the leg?”

“Not the leg. When ya left for the Institute.”

She snaps her mouth closed. His dark eyes flick to hers for an instant.

“Look, I…you know me. I been runnin’ from myself my whole life. And I know you done a lot a’ that too. So you and me runnin’ together, it worked out well to start, huh? Get in some trouble, keep each other distracted—”

“Wait, stop, where are you going with this?” Fear has begun to creep into her stomach.

“I know how you are and I’m not gonna stop, I need to say this and you’re gonna sit there and listen, okay? No running away this time.” He turns the full weight of his black eyes on her.

Her stomach backflips and objections die in her throat.

“I know ya haven’t told me everything goin’ on with you and the Institute. That’s alright, I don’t need ta’ know, I want to know but I’m not gonna push. The thing is, when I watched you enter that teleporter, all cold fire and vengeance…” He relents and drops his eyes again. “Of course we were all worried if you’d make it back. If they’d let you go, if you’d end up in the middle of a room full of Coursers, if the teleporter would even work and hadn’t just disintegrated you on the spot. But out of all that, I could only see that look on your face. That look that said if you didn’t find what you were lookin’ for…you’d try to take them down with ya.”

Sole’s eyes begin to burn. She drops them from Hancock’s face to the wall at her other side. No. You don’t owe him a response. You don’t owe him a piece of you.

“I been runnin’ from everything good in my life, but as soon as you vanished, I realized I was terrified that you were gonna run from me. From all of us that care for you. I know the hell that kinda anger can wreak on a person, and I know you been hurtin’ from it. Just…you got a lotta good here. Whether you include me in that or not. Course I hope you do, I mean, throwing in with you has been the best decision I’ve ever made. I’ve got your back and that’s not gonna change. I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did and run from it all…don’t you leave us behind.”

Avoid. Deflect. Definitely avoid that little lump of warm vulnerability. “You're not going soft on me, are ya, Hancock?” The statement doesn’t come out nearly as clear as she’d like.

His chuckle cracks, betraying him as well. “Hey, everyone's entitled to some softness. For me, it's pretty much everything below the eyebrows.” He clears his throat. “So, yeah. Guess I got a little overprotective, hence the leg. Just needed to get that out.” Turned back towards him, she sees his eyes shifting, looking anywhere but at her, hands fidgeting. He’s about to stand.

Her hand grabs his. For a moment she sees her terror reflected in his scarred face, but then she realizes it’s less terror, more wonder, as he stares first at their hands, then into her eyes. She didn’t plan this. Didn’t intend it. The warmth and strength of his hand is almost overwhelming. She has to say something.

When all else fails, the truth. “I can’t promise I won’t. But if you…feel so strongly…about me…then I’ll try.”

His face softens further, a small smile appearing. “That’s all anyone can ask for.” They sit there, hand in hand, a few breaths longer.

Then Hancock shakes himself and stands. “One clean pair of pants comin’ up. Unless you’re thinkin’ about some sorta no-pants party, in which case—”

“Hancock.”

He winks and flashes her a grin. Perhaps a softer one than usual.

#ask dire #thanks for the ask! #dire's sole #sole survivor #fallout oc #hancock #fallout hancock #fallout 4 john hancock #sole can have a little comfort #a little woundtending #as a treat

[forthewoolfy]

What, if anything, inspired the Hero of Hammersey? Also, who gave you that knife!?

I was watching Konosuba and I loved the character dynamics. Watched a video discussing why it was such a good show and one of the points discussed was about how all the characters were jerks to each other and that’s what made the group a lot of fun. I kinda stewed over the idea and decided I wanted to write a story that felt like a sequel but focused on a redeemed character going through the sorta ‘aftermath’ of their arc. Also kinda wanted to mess with the tropes of the ‘evil generals’ cause you have these crazy ‘people’ in your life for long enough then you’re eventually just gonna end up friends!

A lot changed over time. Lucas originally had amnesia and was forcefully brought over from Hammersey without his knowledge. Also originally fought with a whisky bottle. Ceres wasn’t supposed to appear until the end, but then he’d have no relationship growth with Lucas and where would’ve been the fun in that? Another original part of his curse was that he’d vanish if he came within 2km of another General but I thought that was too obvious. and originally we didn’t see the scenes of Lucas’ past. I kinda got bored and started thinking about them, ended up writing some and then couldn’t resist the urge to add them! =‘D

And, baby, I was born with this knife 8)

[ckret2]

The weight of the world on your shoulders

One of them was infatuated with Rodan; one of them was neutral; and one was enraged at the very thought. That had been enough for Ghidorah to decide to stay on Earth on a trial basis—but more than a month had passed and the trial was over. It was time for them to make a final decision. Were they staying, or not?

This is part of an ongoing series of Rodorah one-shots. If you don’t wanna read the others, all you need to know is Rodan recently made a globe out of lava and gave it to Ghidorah (sorta), and Ghidorah’s having some feelings over it. Links to the other fics are in the source at the bottom of this post.

I wasn’t planning on writing this but the idea came to me while I was proofing Now What? and I went, hm. I should revisit that, huh. Also I wanted to post something while I’m working on that five parter.

###

They curled on the ground around the red sprite's gift to them—a painstakingly accurate globe of this world, made out of volcanic stone and silica glass that he'd made himself—and looked up at it in the dark. They were supposed to be asleep.

They weren't.

The very structure of their life did not allow for a single possession. They carried nothing that wasn't contained within their own body, hidden beneath their electrical scales. They arrived alone and naked, they destroyed everything, they departed alone and naked.

They had known that choosing to keep the red sprite would change that. That they would now have one possession. That they would have to learn how to live differently in order to accommodate the fact that there was something that they meant to keep.

They hadn't expected to receive a second possession. Especially not so fast.

A globe.

It felt heavy.

It felt burdensome. It felt like something pressing down on their back just below where their necks joined, in the narrow channel between Third and Second's spines, right between their shoulders. It felt like it would weigh them down so heavily they wouldn't be able to fly.

It felt like it could crush them to death.

They draped a wing over the globe, rolled it closer, and wrapped around it tighter.

So: now what? They had asked themselves that when they'd made the choice to keep him, and on some level had never stopped asking it. Now what? Were they going to just start accumulating possessions? Things and stuff and people they had to think about, worry about, protect, maintain? Things and stuff and people they had to let weigh on their mind the way a black hole settled heavily on the fabric of the universe, stretching it threadbare with its mass? Settle down, claim territory, have borders, learn how to keep breathing through the claustrophobia as the sky closed in on them?

Had they made their decision?

Because there was a decision pending, wasn't there?

When they'd chosen to stay, it had been a temporary measure: we'll see. We'll decide later. Because they'd been torn on the subject, two voting one way and one the other, and a 2/3rds majority was unacceptable to them. They all shared a body and all shared their minds; they couldn't tolerate doing something that was one-third intolerable to themselves. All decisions had to be unanimous. Even if that meant haranguing the one in the minority into changing his mind. Even if that meant that the two in the majority had to change their position because the one would not budge.

They'd been here well over a month. They had to come to an agreement. Was this going to be their life now?

As much as First hated being in love—it was like having a crossbow strapped to their chest with an arrow pointed at their heart, ready to go off at any moment—he was in love. And every time he'd thought they were on the verge of losing the red sprite—because they'd touched his mind and found no love for them inside it, because they'd seen him plummeting from the sky with cracked armor and frozen wings—he'd felt that arrow threatening to pierce their chest. Actually losing him, he was sure, would be more painful than anything he'd felt since they'd escaped their masters. He knew that made him stupid. He knew that made him weak. He knew that made him vulnerable. He knew that made him hypocritical. But knowing that the crossbow shouldn't be there didn't remove it. Perhaps it was selfish for him to ask them all to stay to avoid his pain; but when he had no power to prevent that pain from spilling over to the other two, he couldn't separate his self-interest from their collective interest. And so, embarrassed and ashamed, he voted for them all to stay. First said yes.

Third didn't love the red sprite, although he thought he would come to, in the same way that they all came to adopt each other's most passionate opinions and emotions. He did like the red sprite. Most importantly, though, he liked being with the red sprite. He liked being grounded. He liked being grounded, dammit! He liked having a world with colors and gravity and weather and skies! So did the others, even if they didn't want to admit it. When they were in space they ached to reach the next world. No one was pushing them off the planets they landed on. No one made them spend ninety nine percent of their lives in space but themselves. So why did they always leave worlds as fast as they could? Staying with the red sprite was an excuse to live the alternative, and they could all see they were better off this way. Being on this world was a mercy, deliverance from the cycle of voids and nights and asteroids and hibernation and cold that made up nearly all of their life. Being on this world felt like a chance to finally go sane. Third said yes.

Second heard Third's perspective. While he thought they should be cautious to not get attached to this particular world—crummy little world covered in machine makers and patrolled by the little king—in deference to Third's experiment, he was willing to consider the merits of allowing themselves to become attached to worlds, in general. They could stay on this world for a while to see what it was like. After all, individual planets might come and go; but planets in and of themselves were never going to vanish, were they? Besides—hadn't they always refused to have possessions because losing a possession would lead to suffering, and they in their immortality couldn't afford the compounded suffering of loss after loss after loss? If First was already so attached to the red sprite, then leaving now would simply cause the very suffering they would otherwise have left to avoid. It was too late. The attachment was made. They would be harming themselves if they left. Therefore, they had to stay—for now. If their feelings for the red sprite cooled, they could leave while it wouldn't hurt. And so his vote was conditional: for now, he thought they should stay. As long as leaving would do more harm than staying. But he wanted them to occasionally reconsider the decision and debate it over again to see if anything had changed. If they were trapped on this world by a weight on their shoulders too heavy to shake off, so be it; but he refused to be trapped by mere inertia. Second said yes—conditionally.

So they would stay. They'd keep doing what they'd been doing: exploring this world an inch at a time. They'd learn the red sprite's language, fight him when the mood struck, and edge ever close to winning his affections. They'd avoid conflict with the little king when they could and try to kill him when they couldn't. They'd toe the line with the local species of machine makers so long as they posed a potential threat to the red sprite, and eliminate them if an opportunity arose. They'd learn new songs from the creatures around them—emotions they rarely had a chance to sing when they were focused only on extermination—and they'd write their own songs.

It didn't sound so bad.

They'd get bored eventually; but they were always bored, anyway. It wouldn’t be so bad.

At the conclusion of the discussion, relief washed through two thirds of them: Third, because he had been terrified that Second would fight to rip them off this planet; First, because he had been terrified that in voting to stay, he would be dooming them to languish on this rock for the rest of their life. If Second was relieved, he wasn't showing it; as usual his emotions were closed up.

A weight lifted off their shoulders.

They shifted their position, in the process accidentally turning the globe; glass instead of rock now pressed to their abdomen. However, they refused to get attached to this thing. It wasn't even alive. Its worth came from its connection to the red sprite, nothing else. For now they could keep it as a trinket that reminded them favorably of him; and if they ever got so attached to it they felt like they couldn't part with it, they could eat it.

They shut their eyes and tried to sleep.

###

(Replies/reblogs are welcome! Check the “source” link below for my masterlist of KOTM and Rodorah fics, as well as my AO3 and Ko-fi links.)

#rodorah #kotm #godzilla #rodan #king ghidorah #ghidorah #fanfic #my writing

[wish-to-grow-a-garden]

So, I just finished playing Hello Neighbor and I'm here to give it my personal rating because reasons.

First off, I'll admit that the only reason I even was able to beat it was because I used walkthroughs. Without them, I never would have figured out half the shortcuts and mechanics and secrets (more on that later), but I just wanted to see how the game actually turned out in the end because most Youtubers I watched play it kinda gave up after like the 3rd version that got released. That being said...

Overall Game Rating: 6/10

So at its core this game had potential. I WANTED the final version of this game to be better than it was. Would it ever have been the best game ever? I highly doubt it. But it could have been much more noteworthy if it had just *functioned* better. I'm also fully aware that I'm several years late, but man I just need to give my discourse and opinions to someone who isn't 9 or a completely lost parent. Anyways, allow me to explain myself in the good old fashioned Tumblr way of bullets-

The Good

Physical design. Now, this is a completely personal opinion here, but I liked how the game looked. It was colorful, it had its own distinct style. There were very few occasions when I couldn't tell what something was, and most of the time those indistinguishables weren't remotely important. I also like how the writing in the game was scrambled to kinda make it fun and nonsensical, but you could still pretty much tell what it was meant to say.

Story! Guys, the main reason I came back to this game in the first place; the reason I really wanted to see it finished and see what happened in all those chapters that I never saw finished; was because I wanted to get more of the story. I wanted to know what happened, and while I'm still not entirely certain, I have several theories. And all the theories follow the same general track with a few basic deviations, so I'd say that the game did a pretty good job of getting it's focal points across.

The puzzel aspect. I like games that make me (when I'm actually playing seriously and not just playing to get through it) think. And I wasn't using the guide every step of the way, so I had a genuinely good time figuring out what items went to what, and what I could do with certain objects that I couldn't achieve with others. I think the overall idea of "hey, run around this dude's house and work out his overly complicated, Ikea-like home full of coniptions and contraptions" super fun.

Multiple ways to reach endings. Now, mainly this applied to Act 2 in my experience because Act 1 seemed pretty straightforward and Act 3 had me frustrated for so many days to the point where I couldn't really appreciate its options (more on that in a bit), but I'm sure there were deviating paths there as well. Point is, I saw 3 seperate ways of escaping the Neighbor's house in act 2, and I just sorta thought that was cool. And considering I'm playing for myself, and guiding (playing) two children through their own files, I managed to get two of those 3 escapes. The endings were the same, but still, it's cool.

The secrets and optional pathways. There were several rooms that I never actually managed to get into when i was playing through just because I wasn't secret I hunting. But I DID take notice of them, plus there were quite a few that I just happened to find my way into during my run arounds, and I explored because hey! Secrets! And I'm sure there was a ton of extra story material I missed because I neglected a lot of them, but I can appreciate a game that leaves its little hidden details as something you sort of have to work for. If I ever find the patience and the time one day, maybe I'll go back for them.

Audio warnings. Okay okay, so I was a big dummy and played through the first 2 Acts without any sound, and only plugged in headphones for the second half of Act 3. But once I did, having the music pick up in warning when the neighbor spotted me, or being able to hear the mannequins coming was very nice.

The minigames/cut scenes. And I'm not including the Fear rooms in this because I did not take anywhere near as much intrest or enjoyment out of those. I mean the things you were just mean to sorta run through. The bits where you could see the neighbor at his lowest. The bits that showed that maybe, maybe this dude that you've been cussing out the entire game is actually just some dude who had a really tough run, and just ended up snapping. The bits that kinda make you feel bad for barging into his home and shattering all his windows and just being a general dick. The bit at the very end got me especially- when he's trapped in the room by the shadow figure, and he sorta looks out the window at you, and then just stands dejectedly in the corner. I wanted to help him. I REALLY wanted to help him. I felt bad leaving.

The Bad

Limited functionality. Oh my lord, if this game hadn't been so effing glitchy the whole way through, I might have been able to give it a 7 or 8 out of 10. But it just...didn't. There were so many times when things would just vanish from my inventory and I'd have to reload, or the puzzle wouldn't solve the way it was meant to and I'd have to Macgyver my way around it. There were also several times where I would be trying to hide in a locker/closet, and my character would get stuck in the door of said locker/closet. Half the time it would get me caught, and half the time I'd have to button mash for several minutes before I could get free. The worst possible glitch I had during my whole experience was when I was trying to get up to the roof garden in Act 3. My walkthrough told me I had to get in the trolley and stop it just before a ledge to jump up. The problem is THE TROLLEY WOULDN'T STOP. Every time I tried, I'd either glitch through the front and get hit and die, or it would just completely break the train and it would just go into constant motion, not even making its programmed stops at the different stations.

Ridiculous enemy sightline triggers. Listen, Act 2 in particular was absolute HELL to get through the first time (and even unnecessarily difficult after I took the lids through it the 2nd and 3rd times) because the neighbor could be like 3 blocks down and inside his local "Murderous Psycos Anonymous" meeting, and yet the moment I step foot in his yard he's on a dead sprint to my location. And don't even get me STARTED on the mannequins in the Fear rooms. Their sightline triggers were so ridiculously unfair that if I hadn't had the sound triggers telling me they were coming, I never would have gotten past those rooms. But the sensitivity could have even been brushed off, if it were even remotely consistent. There were other times when I would be standing directly in front of the Neighbor, shining a flashlight in his eyes and staring him head on, and yet because I was crouched and slightly out of his sightline (this happened several times in the basement of Act 1.)

Pointless enemy boundaries. By this, I mean that the Neighbor is (apparently) meant to stop at the boundaires of his property when he's chasing you and you run off home. But he doesn't . In fact, quite often I couldn't get him to back off until I was actually physically in my house with the door closed.

Extremely unclear puzzle solutions. The main reason I opted to use the walkthroughs instead of working my way through the game myself? Because without them, it would have been damn near impossible. There were so many times that I was preforming the solution to a problem and I was just like "...really?". Requiring the player to interact with one of hundreds of completely repetative and indistinguishable paintings, having to glitch a shoe through a box to switch a lever, making a specific space match a painting on the wall to open a box that was down the hall and outside...it was just kind of ridiculous. I personally wouldn't have even guessed the the umbrellas could be used as floatation devices until maybe several hours into the game, if ever at all. When you have to many objects that seem unqiue but are actually just more props to toss around, it gets kinda hard to distinguish what is actually useful and what isn't.

The Iffy

The final boss. ...okay, I have to actually admit that I had a fun time being teeny and launching nerf darts and bottle rockets at the Neighbor. Especially after all the pain of getting through Act 2. (He actually didn't bother me much in Act 3.) But like...what was it? His household was weighing on his back or whatever. The reminders of his kids were causing him pain. Okay, okay, cool....but like...there wasn't any better setting for it? There was no better way to pull it off? I was legitimately just running around and doing things just to inconvenience the tall man in front of me. I died so many times just trying to work out the toaster puzzle until I got all...like, 600 umbrellas. I don't know, it was just strange execution.

The Fear Room Powerups. I didn't know the fear rooms were necessary. I didn't know they gave you powerups. Had I not read the walkthroughs, I never would have figured it out. And even AFTER I beat them, I didn't work out that I had power ups until last minute. There was no acknowledgment that I had gained a new power, save for the sneakily worded achievements. However, I did appreciate them while I had them. They let me Macgyver my way around even more.

The seemingly unexplorable. There were doors upon doors that I wanted to get through. And doors upon doors that seemed to have no actual entrances. No secret methods. No special actions. They were just doors. Taunting me. Is it possible I missed something? Absolutely, I'd bet on it. But all I'm saying is I ran around that house a lot in all three levels, and there were some things that I was just never able to work out.

The Conclusion

Hello Neighbor is a game for the patient and the crafty. I enjoyed it. I would have enjoyed it more if it were more functional and made even a lick of sense gameplay wise. But while it isn't anywhere near the best game I've ever played, it isn't the worst either. Its playable enough if you're willing to work around its defects. I'd suggest it for a rainy day, or an especially quarentined week.

#hello neighbor #hello neighbour game #indie games #here i am #judging a game that everyone forgot about #just because I'm a lonely soul with no one to discuss it with #please enjoy #long post

[starsandthorn]

Marie did not like the beach.  The sand constantly shifted underfoot and somehow always, always ended up in her joints. She hated the feeling (what little there was, anyway) of the grit in her hands, her ankles, her knees, her elbows, and combing it out of her hair was always a nightmare. Not to mention how terrible it was to have wet sand dry over her hands, encrusting her fingers and leaving her barely able to move them.

Suffice to say she was not entirely thrilled by the idea of a family outing to the beach. But Mal and Xu Li had been excited at the prospect of visiting the ocean when Madame Red had brought it up, and Marie figured the sandy hell would be better than being left at home alone.

Some of the other gods would also be there, and Marie desperately hoped that included Cardmaster. At least she could have someone to suffer with, and to complain to.

The trip had started out alright. The beach itself wasn’t terrible to look at, and the ocean stretching off into the horizon, catching the sun’s rays was a little breathtaking. Or, it would be, if Marie had any breath to take. They had met up with some of the other gods and got the usual semi-awkward hellos out of the way before setting up. Madame planted herself under a particularly shady umbrella after making sure Xu Li and Mal were properly prepared and sending them on their way.

The sisters in question wasted little time searching the beach for shells and the like, and Marie accompanied them for a while at Xu Li’s request before the sand started getting to her. She excused herself and hobbled over to where Madame Red was sitting in order to clean the grit accumulating in her ankles.

As she did, she glanced around the beach for Cardmaster. She was sure she had spotted them when everyone had said their hellos. They wouldn’t have just left, would they? Her heart sank at the idea.

Marie perked up when she finally spotted the familiar shade of Cardmaster’s hair. She quickly fixed her foot and made her way over…

To find them encased from the neck down in sand.

She blinked at them in stunned silence for a while. “Wow. What happened to you?”

Cardmaster turned their head as much as they could and offered her a bright smile. “I drew the card of Encase Myself In Sand!”

Marie made a face. “Did you really?”

“Maybe,” they said with all the smugness in the world.

Marie had no idea what had actually happened but her first instinct was to support them. Even if it involved that much sand. She shuddered to imagine herself in their place, so she shook the thoughts from her head instead.

“Do you need help getting out or anything?”

“Hm? Oh, no! I’m actually pretty comfy right now.”

“Can’t relate,” Marie said without thinking, hugging her arms to herself.

“Marie?”

Glancing up from where she’d been glaring at the ground, Marie saw a look of concern on Cardmaster’s face. She sighed, letting her shoulders droop with the motion.

“It’s nothing serious,” she said. “I’m just not too fond of sand.” She popped off her forearm for emphasis, letting some that had somehow gathered in her elbow fall back to the ground.

“Ah,” Cardmaster nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help? I can’t really—get to my cards right now, but…”

Marie let out a little laugh. “No, it’s alright. I can deal with it, it’s just annoying. How about you? Do you need anything?”

They let out a thoughtful hum. “Kinda thirsty,” they admitted after a while.

“I’ll go grab something for you,” she laughed. “You have any preference?”

“Surprise me!”

She gave a double thumbs up as she headed over to a small building near the entrance of the beach that sold refreshments. There was a moment where she wished she could actually try the things being displayed, but she shook her head. She couldn’t, and that was that, but she could at least get her friend something they enjoyed.

Marie spotted Ielo and Flame sitting in the shade outside the building, Flame’s face twisted in horror as Ielo bit into some ice cream with a neutral expression. Ielo met her eyes, and Marie gave a smile and a little wave as she stepped up to the counter.

Figuring that, despite how funny it might be, handing Cardmaster a glass full of sand would be pretty mean, Marie ordered them an actual drink and brought it over to them.

They perked up as they heard her crunching across the sand, and tried in vain to twist around to face her. Marie let out a little laugh and stepped around so she could look them in the eye.

“What did you get?”

“Dragonfruit,” she said, holding out the drink so they could reach the straw.

They hummed in appreciation as they tried it. “That’s pretty good!”

Marie stayed with Cardmaster long after they had finished their drink, talking, laughing about the other gods’ activities, and joking about what plans they could execute at the next event.  

But despite Cardmaster’s good company, Marie could feel the heat slowly becoming overwhelming. She felt doubly cooked between the sun itself and the sand reflecting its blazing rays. She closed her eyes a moment longer than a blink, hoping for a moment’s peace.

“You okay?”

She blinked herself out of her reverie and looked up at Cardmaster, who was propping their chin up on the sand in front of them.

“Yea, I just think the sun’s getting to me a bit,” she frowned. “Will you be okay if I head off? I’m gonna try to get out of the heat but I don’t want you to fry or anything.”

“I think I should be alright?”

“Are you sure? I could steal one of Madame’s spare sunhats for you if you want.”

“…That might be nice, actually.”

Marie nodded and hurried over to retrieve one of the items in question. Madame Red raised a brow at her but returned Marie’s smile nonetheless.

She returned to Cardmaster and plopped the hat unceremoniously on their head.

“Oh, thanks! Good luck avoiding the heat. And all the sand.”

“Thank you, Cardmaster. Have fun,” she chuckled as she headed back to the small refreshments building to return their glass.

She lingered in the shade for a while, allowing the heat to seep from her as she watched the goings on along the beach.

Xu Li was working on a surprisingly realistic and detailed sand castle—or maybe a sand citadel?—and adorning it with some assorted shells. Mal was sitting not too far away, showing her newest finds to General Min.  Mahogany seemed to be talking with Calypso. Ielo was now crunching on a popsicle with Flame side-eyeing them with disdain. Others were scattered about, but Marie’s gaze was drawn to the far end of the beach, where a lone figure stood.

She realized with a start that she recognized the figure. Not in a oh I’ve seen them in passing at one of Mahogany’s parties sort of way, but in an instant sort of recognition that came with living with someone for years.

It was Ms. Match.

She hadn’t been invited, Marie figured. She never was; she just showed up whenever there was chaos to be made and fun to be had. But now, she just seemed to be…staring out at the ocean, unmoving. Marie absently wondered how long she’d been there.

So, once she had sufficiently cooled off, she stood and headed to the far end of the beach.

As she walked, the sky above her slowly shifted from a bright afternoon blue to a vibrant sunset orange. Maybe a quirk of the beach, or maybe Ms. Match’s doing? Either way, Marie continued walking. But no matter how long she walked, Ms. Match stayed the same distance away, staring off into the horizon.

Marie stopped, letting out a huff of frustration. How was she getting sand all the way up in her knees? She marched over to some rocks off to the side and plopped down to dump it out.

“Hello, Ms. Match,” she called half-heartedly, wondering if she could even hear her with how far away she was.

“Why, hello, Marie!” At once Ms. Match was standing nearer, hands clasped in front of her. Of course she could hear her. When had she ever obeyed the laws of physics? “What a pleasant surprise!”

“You did know we were all coming to the beach,” she said flatly.

“Yes, but I didn’t think you would visit! I very rarely get visits when I stand here.”

She paused her cleaning. “Is that on purpose?”

Ms. Match hummed thoughtfully, sounding like a swarm of bees. “Sometimes! I do enjoy, as the kids say, vibing on my own, but it does tend to get a bit lonesome.”

Marie nodded, not responding as she wiped away some excess sand.

“Are you enjoying yourself on the beach?”

“Mm, sorta. Cardmaster’s here, so that’s fun, but…there’s not a whole lot for me to do. I hate the sand, I can’t eat, and I don’t exactly want to go swimming after that one time with the barnacles,” she shuddered. It had been a weird magic accident, sure, but Marie was still a bit on the fence about swimming after that.

A moment passed where Marie reattached her leg. She looked up at Ms. Match, who smiled at her brightly.

“Would you like to see some crabs?”

“What?”

“Crabs. Would you like to see them?”

“I—Yea, sure.”

Ms. Match led her down the beach, where the sand seemed to vanish and give way to a more rocky terrain.  A little further, and there were…tide pools? Maybe that was the name, Marie wasn’t exactly an expert.

Ms. Match pointed, and Marie saw them. Crabs. There were quite a number of them scuttling about, red shells glinting in the sunset lighting.

The two of them crouched there for a while, watching the crustaceans and listening to the crashing of the waves.  

“Thanks,” Marie said at last.

“Of course!” Ms. Match responded cheerfully. “Would you like to go back?”

“Yea. Yea, I think so.”

They walked back to the beach in comfortable quiet. Marie paused at the divide between the rocks and sand to say goodbye to Ms. Match before continuing on her way.

When she finally returned to the beach proper, the sky still its vibrant orange hue, most of the gods seemed to have packed up and left. Marie spotted Madame Red and General Min sitting at the tables in front of the building she had visited earlier, talking and listening to Xu Li and Mal describe their adventures.

And, of course, Cardmaster was still stuck in their pillar of sand.

“Having fun?” she asked as she approached.

“I was ‘til most everyone up and left,” they huffed.

“…Do you need help getting out now?”

“Yes, please.”

Marie knocked on the hardened sand, her hand giving a dull thunk. “I’ll see if I can find a trowel or something to break through this.”

“Thank you.”

It took quite a bit of time and effort, but eventually Marie managed to free Cardmaster from their sandy prison. They pat themself down, trying to get rid of the remaining loose sand. Marie barely stifled a laugh at the sight of Cardmaster in one of her mom’s hats. They looked up and seemed to take the hint, whisking it off and heading over to where Madame was sitting.

As the two of them walked, Marie frowned down at her hands, feeling the accursed grit working its way into her joints.

“Did you get sand in your hands?”

“Yes,” she frowned, grumbling as she began twisting at one of her fingers. “I hate getting it out of here it’s so much harder to do with one hand—”

Cardmaster cut her off by placing a hand over hers. “Hey. Let me help.”

“I—okay.”

As they returned the hat to Madame Red, Xu Li bounced excitedly and waved at Marie. She sat down at one of the tables with a smile.

“Hi, Marie!” Xu Li signed with a bright smile. Mal gave a little wave.

“Hi, you two. Did you have fun?”

They both nodded, Xu Li a bit more enthusiastically as she began recounting what the two of them had done.

As Marie watched her begin to describe exactly what she had been building before, Madame sharing a fond look and soft smile with Min behind them, Cardmaster sat next to her and worked on getting the sand out of her hands.

With her friend and family around her, and the setting sun turning the ocean shades of red and orange, Marie took a moment to reflect. Sure, she still didn’t like the beach, and yea she would be dealing with the sand the whole way home, but this moment of quiet was nice. Maybe the trip hadn’t been so terrible after all.

#personal stuff #long post #writing #ocs #no beta reader we die like men!! #asfdhg anyway summer fun for the whole family!! #including but not limited to: goth mom. zombie mom. zombie daughter. enderman daughter. doll daughter. weird family friend. cardmaster #me @ me writing this: appreciate cardmaster or die #ms match fun to write..... #shoutout to ms match and marie for being half the inspiration fr me writing this #the other half was nat's summer art but like. #i thought ''hm. ms match shows people crabs? marie?'' and then it was over for me

[monsieur-de-paris]

REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost ,   don’t  reblog  !  good  luck  !

TAGGED. @kigakurutta​ thanks ^-^ TAGGING. @bourreau-de-roi​ @princely-alucard​ @thesarcasticviclet​ @devilsmark @xxsacrificiumxx​ @farnese-ojousama​

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Charles-Henri Sanson de Longval

NICKNAME:  Charles or Charlot (lolol)

AGE: Verse-dependent, between 14 and 54

BIRTHDAY: February 15th

ETHNIC GROUP: White

NATIONALITY: French

LANGUAGE(S): French, a word or two in English and German

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Biromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Verse-dependent, gets married at the age of 27

CLASS: As in social class - 3rd estate (commoner)

HOMETOWN / AREA: Paris

CURRENT HOME: Paris 

PROFESSION: Executioner & doctor

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Black, very long, straight or later wavy, thick, silky

EYES: Doe-eyed, gray/black of colour

NOSE: Straight, long, narrow

FACE: Diamond-shaped and long, not so defined cheekbones

LIPS: Plump and soft, red

COMPLEXION: Pale

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: None

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 195 cm ( 6'5'' )

WEIGHT: unknown

BUILD: Tall and skinny, well-trained

FEATURES: Soft enough to be able to dress like a lady and not attract attention

ALLERGIES: None

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: The parting changes over time (it’s either parted on the right side or combed back), but always open

USUAL FACE LOOK: Distressed lmao

USUAL CLOTHING: 18th century clothes

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): People’s cruelty, having to execute the ones he cares for, generally having to kill people, he hates his occupation a lot ;O;

ASPIRATION(S) : To abolish executions, later: to make executions more humane

POSITIVE TRAITS: Kind, polite, open-minded, accepting, loving, caring, a strong sense of responsibility

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Naive, anxious, unassertive, easily led, manipulable

ZODIAC: Aquarius

TEMPERAMENT: Emotionally volatile, cries a lot

SOUL TYPE(S): Helper

ANIMALS: Dogs, horses

VICE  HABIT(S): None (crying?)

FAITH: He is religious, yes

GHOSTS?: I bet he believes in them

AFTERLIFE?: Yes

REINCARNATION?: No

ALIENS?: No

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good

ECONOMIC  PREFERENCE: No idea (what is economic preference?)

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: He supports His Majesty wholeheartedly

EDUCATION LEVEL: Mostly home-schooled, very good medical skills

FAMILY.

FATHER: Charles-Jean-Baptiste Sanson

MOTHER: Madeleine Sanson

SIBLINGS: (Oh gosh, here we go with the list) Marie-Joseph Sanson, Louis-Charles-Martin Sanson, Nicholas-Charles-Gabriel Sanson, Louis-Cyr-Charlemagne Sanson, Madeleine-Claude-Gabrielle Sanson, there was later a baby too, called Pierre-Shanks Sanson, but I think it vanished (?)

EXTENDED FAMILY: His grandmother Anne-Marthe Sanson, his stepmother Jeanne-Gabrielle Sanson, his wife Marie-Anne Sanson, his two sons Henri Sanson and Gabriel Sanson, his uncle Nicholas-Gabriel Sanson, his cousin AND brother-in-law Jean-Louis Sanson, like 500+ other cousins, I think the Sanson family is rather large (and I need a drink after listing so many)

NAME MEANING(S): Apparently,Charles means “man” and Henri means “home ruler” lmao 

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: He was actually the royal executioner of France? He is based on a real person 

FAVORITES.

BOOK: The bible prolly, also the memoirs of the first Sanson. He used to be very interested in science and philosophy, but I think his occupation sorta sucked the life, and the hunger for knowledge, out of him 

MOVIE: None

5 SONGS: He enjoys Bach

DEITY: The Christian God

HOLIDAY: Christmas and Easter, like the good boy he is

MONTH: April

SEASON: Spring

PLACE: Anywhere he can be left alone by his grandmother and father (lmao), I think generally among nature

WEATHER: Sunny

SOUND: His violin <3

SCENT(S): Roses

TASTE(S): Wine, fruit, mild tastes

FEEL(S): Satin on the skin, but also pain

ANIMAL(S): I already answered this

NUMBER: 3

COLORS: Black, red, blue

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Riding, very good with a blade, very good medical skills, I guess singing too since he does it a lot 

BAD AT:  Killing, asserting his will

TURN ONS:  Pain (he won’t admit though, but because of the torture he had to undergo, his body got accustomed to pain a lot)

TURN OFFS: Irrationality, cruelty, chaos

HOBBIES: Playing his violin

TROPES:  Fragile Flower xD

AESTHETIC TAGS: Roses, Skulls, Black Hair, Edgy, Goth, Death, BDSM, Emo Quotes, Sad, Depressing, Velvet, Thorns, Blood

GPOY  QUOTES: I can’t think of any rn

FC INFO.

MAIN  FC(S): None, unfortunately

ALT FC(S): None

OLDER FC(S): None

YOUNGER  FC(S): None

VOICE CLAIM(S): None

GENDERBENT FC(S): None

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?: I wouldn’t. I can’t picture Innocent as a movie, I can’t even picture it as an anime, because its beauty and style would just get lost, I feel.

Q2: what would their soundtrack / score sound like?: Something sad and gloomy

Q3: why did you start writing this character?: Well, I really love him ;_; I loved him from the moment I picked Innocent, but his development was nothing I expected - it actually made sense, unlike with many other characters, whose developments only make sense in a fictional, trope-driven setting. But Charles-Henri “matured” in a way a real person would, and even his character traits, which I would possibly hate on every other character aside from him, like his kindness and his gullibility, were somehow lovable to me, because they felt real and genuine, and not like the traits you give a character only to make them likeable. And then a good friend of mine picked him as a muse, we wrote together for sometime, and he just stole my heart completely.

Q4: what first attracted you to this character?: His hair. Also his face, I had seen pictures of him before and I always thought his face looked very unique, because I’ve never seen anyone with a similar drawing style.

Q5: describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse: I dislike, that he changed so much, even if it made sense. I just miss the old Charles a lot ;_;

Q6: what do you have in common with your muse?: I think I have a lot in common with him...except for his kindness and his patience with people. I do share many of his negative traits  though, I also act on impulse a lot.

Q7: how does your muse feel about you?: He is angry, because I contribute to his torment lolol

Q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?: All his interactions are interesting, those which aren’t usually get dropped :o

Q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse?:  Books. Oh, and my love for him and for writing in general, I don’t think I could just stop writing. And also, he is very easy for interactions. He is very timid and not the most extroverted person in the world, but he would give everyone a chance, so having him meet other characters and actually show interest in them isn’t difficult (*cough* unlike Griffith *cough*)

Q10: how long did this take you to complete?: Tbh, I think ca. 2-3 hours.

#☙ ⁽ 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 ⁾ ❧ : 𝑇𝑎𝑔 𝑀𝑒𝑚𝑒

[sockablock]

• (start) (prev) (next) •

Chapter 9: Tinsel on the Awnings

“No, no,” said Caleb, reaching for his pencil. “You have to account for Reichden’s Law of Opposing Forces. Otherwise you will just make the lightning even worse. Here, the glyph should look like this.”

Fjord, on his stool across the library counter, sighed. “I knew there was something wrong. I guess I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

Caleb hummed his agreement as he worked. “No offense meant, but I am surprised you would make this mistake. It is...Spellcasting 101, you might say. Did your teachers never show this to you before?”

“Er, no,” Fjord admitted. “But I’ve also never exactly taken a magic class before, so I guess it makes sense that I’d fuck up like this.”

“You’ve…” Caleb’s hand paused over the page. “You’ve never been taught this in a formal setting?”

Fjord shrugged. “Is that hard to believe? I mean, you know how shitty I am at this. You’ve watched me fuck up for two weeks, now.”

“Yes," Caleb blinked, "but…to be perfectly honest, I thought you would at least know the basics. After all, Fjord, I saw you do magic that night at the Moondrop. You have arcane capabilities, you cast spells that I could not even name.”

Something flickered behind Fjord's eyes, but he tamped it down quickly. “Well…yeah,” he said slowly. “But that’s, um…”

He sighed and leaned in, lowering his voice. “Caleb, I’ve never really talked about this before, not even with Jes. So, you’ve gotta promise me that you’ll be discrete, alright?”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Ja, okay. Sure.”

Fjord took a deep breath. “I, um…I’ve never actually learned magic before. And those spells you saw…I don’t think they were the wizardly kind—”

“—they certainly did not appear to be—”

“—right. So, what I’m saying is, I think my powers are...I didn't get 'em out of books. I just sorta…wish really hard for something to happen, and then it does. Is that, is that weird? Is that normal?”

Caleb suddenly burst into laughter, catching Fjord completely by surprise. “I just spilled my guts out there a bit,” he said with mild reproach. “Was there something funny about it?”

Caleb wiped at the corner of his eyes and shook his head. “Nein, no, well…maybe a little bit funny. Oh, you should have told me that in the first place! Now I understand.”

He met Fjord’s bewildered gaze and smiled faintly. “You are just a sorcerer, Fjord. There is nothing wrong with that. Your abilities are inborn, and natural to you.” Then he waved his hand dismissively over their notes, and the rough sketches of arcane symbols and circles across the pages. “You do not need any of this, my friend. You just need to practice your own skills. Mein gott, I cannot believe I was trying to teach magic to a sorcerer.”

Fjord found himself grinning as well, despite his confusion. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, uh…I didn’t realize there was somethin’ different about…uh…wait, are you sayin’ that your magic isn’t coming from you?”

“Oh, of course not,” Caleb chuckled. “I channel the raw arcana that exists in this world around us, in every living thing, in every thought and idea and emotion and et cetera. That is what all this chicken-scratch is,” he added, pointing at the notes. “But you get your magic from yourself. Whether it be because your ancestors were cursed, or blessed, or maybe one of them was a dragon, I don’t know, were your parents dragons, by any chance?”

Fjord’s smile faded slightly. “Uh…probably not,” he said. “I never, uh, knew them.”

Caleb’s jovial air immediately vanished. “Scheiss,” he said, “I am sorry. That was tasteless—”

Fjord shook his head. “No, no, don’t worry about it. But, uh…just checking, are those the only kinds of people who do magic? There aren’t, I dunno, there aren’t any individuals who just kind of picked it up along the way, or maybe they found something that granted them powers, or anything? It’s, it’s great to know I’m a sorcerer, that’s so cool, but you know, since we’re on the subject, is there anything…else?”

“Oh, ja, there are all sorts out there in the world. Warlocks, most of them, who tie themselves to unspeakable evils in exchange for a bit of power, sure.”

“Oh,” Fjord squeaked. “Uh…unspeakable evils, huh?”

Caleb shrugged. “Well, not always evil. Sometimes they’re gods, or they’re wandering spirits with nothing better to do. But I was always taught that more often than not, otherworldly patrons have otherworldly agendas that usually spell disaster. Then again, I was taught many things that today, I do not necessarily agree with.”

Caleb picked up his pencil again, and nodded to Fjord. “Now that we have established my uselessness as a magical tutor, then, perhaps we should spend the next hour on something else.”

“What?” Fjord asked, jolting out of his daze.

“What else do you need assistance with?” Caleb repeated. “Jester stopped by a few days ago asking about the Ratio Test, and your study guide says it will be on the final exam soon. Would you like to go over that?”

Fjord blinked, and then nodded quickly and reached for his math binder. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he said. “Yeah, that’d be great.”

"How do you feel, so far? Do you understand it?"

Fjord rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Uh...actually, I kind of don't. Sorry, I really haven't had time to study lately, what with all the craziness at work, and everythin' that goes into moving apartments."

“No worries, I am here to help. That is what you are, under my protest, paying me for, yes?”

“Gods, Caleb, I’m not gonna extort free labor from you. Not even if you insist.”

“I told you, it was more than enough for you advertise my services to your classmates. I am fully booked for this week, Fjord! That is…truly, that is an incredible gift you have given me.”

Fjord grinned. “Don't thank me, thank reading week," he said. "But, I mean...yeah. Of course. That’s what friends are for, right?”

Caleb chuckled softly. “You know, Jester has been sneaking envelopes of cash into my bags before she leaves from her lessons as well, now. Do you…do you have anything to do with that?”

“I dunno,” Fjord said, though it sounded like he did. “It doesn’t ring a bell.”

Caleb snorted. “I still haven’t figured out what rate she is paying me,” he said. “Sometimes it looks like ten cents an hour, sometimes thirty dollars. Does she understand how much money is worth?”

Fjord sighed, and flipped open to his notes. “I’ve seen the size of her trust fund,” he said. “She hasn’t got a clue.”

“Well,” Caleb said, reaching for his own papers, “let us hope she never has to learn.”

•

At this time of year, the Pentamarket Square was in full holiday swing. Storefronts burst with gold and silver lights, tinsel glittered along the awnings, and colorful wreaths adorned their doors. The usual wide tents of the street vendors had been replaced with wooden booths, their four walls covered in more sparkling lights, and their space heaters spilling warmth over the open counters and into the brisk winter air. Children wrapped in parkas and woolen hats ran through the cobbled plaza, and young couples window-shopped hand-in-hand. Cheery music played from a number of outdoor speakers, and the smell of hot baked goods, wisps of cinnamon, sugar, and chocolate syrup, drifted up and over the crowd.

This was the Winter Market, and it would last up until the week after New Dawn.

Nott the Brave, skipping cheerfully through the crowd at knee-height, was here to take advantage of that. Her pockets were already rather heavier than they had been this morning.

But just as she spotted a particularly promising-looking old woman with a shiny polished cane, she heard something that made her stop dead in her tracks and look around wildly.

“—ah, you look like someone who’d like to know their future, how about it? No? Well then, how about you, miss? Yes, I can see you’ve got something very important happening soon! What’s that? Well, you’d have to sit down for a reading to find out, eh?”

Nott immediately abandoned her search for loose wallets and jewelry and began shoving her way through, weaving around legs and ducking under shopping bags, until she arrived at a tented stall selling warm apple cider.

Next to it, sitting cross-legged on a thick, navy-blue carpet, was none other than Mollymauk Tealeaf himself. He was wearing his full makeup, glittering eyeshadow and all, and had his crimson performer’s coat on. A white cardboard sign by his knee read, FORTUNES TOLD FOR GENEROUS TIPPERS, and he was shuffling a thick stack of blue-and-gold cards between his fingers as he beamed widely at passing shoppers, winked to small children, even tipped an imaginary hat to an old woman walking by.

And then he caught sight of Nott, her face poking out from behind a young couple’s shins. His eyebrows shot up, and he smirked all the way until she had finally managed to throw herself onto his carpet, the small rectangular island of peace in this sea of people.

“Well, well, well,” Molly grinned, setting his cards aside and gesturing for her to sit. “Look at what the cat dragged in! Nott the Brave, how are you, dear?”

Nott took the seat opposite him. “I’m fine, I guess, but what’s up with you? Why are you here?”

Molly shrugged. “It’s the holiday season, dear. No better time for attracting customers! Well, it’s not quite as good as Midsummer or Merryfrond’s Day, or Harvest��s Close, but it’s best you can do in the winter, eh?”

“Winter sucks,” Nott grumbled. “Aren’t you freezing, out here? Most people bundle up so much there’s nothing I can pickpocket.”

Molly snorted. “Is that why you’re here?” he asked.

Nott crossed her arms. “You can’t prove anything,” she said. “But seriously, isn’t it cold? You’re going to get sick.”

“I won’t,” he reassured her, “tieflings run hot.”

“You’re not running now. How is that supposed to help?”

Molly opened his mouth as if to respond, then paused, and sighed. “Nevermind, dear. But hey, since you’re already here, how about a reading? I’d be willing to do it free of charge, for a friend as delightful as you.”

Nott rubbed her chin. “Are we even friends? I mean, I know we hang out with the same people, I think, but the two of us have never exactly…bonded.”

Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s make this our bonding experience, then! Let me read your fortune.”

She responded with a suspicious glare. “This isn’t your way of buttering me up because you want to get to Caleb, is it?”

Molly lowered his hand. “Of course not!” he said. “But, er, he hasn’t mentioned me at all, has he? It’s been a couple weeks but, uh, I was just curious,” he added hastily.

“Ha! I knew it.”

“Come on, Nott, you can’t blame me for just asking. Besides, I am genuinely invested in getting to know you, now. Jester likes you plenty, and Yasha seems to have taken a shine to you, and you insult Beau just as much as I do, so really, we’re just best friends waiting to happen.”

She eyed him over carefully. Then she sighed and nodded. “Alright, alright, performer boy—”

“—mmm, not boy.”

“Performer person?”

“That’s sort of better—”

“Performer fey-being?”

“...sure, alright. Yeah, let's go with that.”

Nott nodded and leaned in. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Molly deftly scooped his cards back up and began to toss them from hand to hand, effortlessly forming a gleaming bridge between his fingers. He laughed cheekily as Nott rolled her eyes at the extravagance of it all. Then he made a few more passes, flicked his wrist elegantly, and let three cards fall onto the carpet between them. They landed face-down, lined up evenly next to one another, and Nott genuinely couldn’t tell if that was dumb luck, or pure skill.

“Would you like to flip them over yourself?” he asked generously.

“Why?” she asked. “Is that part of the trick?”

Molly scoffed. “It’s not a trick. It’s fortune-telling.”

Nott raised her eyebrow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

•

“Hey, Beau?” Jester asked, lowering her magazine. “I know I don’t usually ask about this kind of stuff, but…shouldn’t you be looking for a job?”

Beau, who had been furiously doing chin-ups on a rod jammed into the doorway leading into the living room, paused. Arms raised, bare feet brushing the ground, she gave Jester a suspicious look.

“Why’re you so interested, all of a sudden?” she asked. “You’re not worried about money, are you?”

“No, no,” Jester said, and set aside her issue of Iva’s Secrets. “Well, okay, kind of a little bit. But I’m worried about your money. What are you going to do when I move out? Are, are you going to, to find a super-rich roommate, or something?”

Beau dropped off the bar and sighed. “It’s sort of a long story, but I don’t really…I’m actually good, financially speaking.”

Jester blinked. “Good? What do you mean by that?”

“I just mean…it’s not a concern. I found a way to get cash.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. “It’s not even illegal, so don’t worry about that either.”

“You just found some way to make money like that, not illegally, where you don’t have to work for it?”

“Yup.”

Jester considered this. Then she reached for her magazine and nodded. “You should write an article or something about that for Iva. That sounds just like the sort of thing that she likes to put on the cover.”

“I’m really concerned about what that rag is teaching you, Jes.”

“I’m not.”

Beau snorted. “Fair enough,” she said. Then she added, under her breath, “It wouldn’t really work for everyone, anyways.”

•

“—and then I told him that his fortunes aren’t right, because I’ve never even owned that many swords before.”

Caleb paused in his whiteboard calculations, bit the end of his dry-erase marker, and stared at Nott. She was sitting at the edge of the kitchen table, swinging her legs off the side and peacefully decimating family-sized pack of chips.

“Are you…aware of how tarot cards work?” he asked slowly.

She waved a hand dismissively, sending Xtreme BBQ flavoring scattering through the ar. “Not really. But I also wasn’t paying too much attention, because while he was talking, I saw a woman passing by with some really nice buttons, so I was busy trying to Mage Hand them off of her.”

“Ah,” Caleb said weakly. “I see. And did you get those buttons that you wanted?”

She beamed, wiped her hand off, and fished around in her hoodie. She produced three glittering, gold baubles the size of her fingernails.

“Got ‘em. Look, look, they’re in the shapes of flowers, I think.”

Caleb did not in fact look very closely, but his slightly-weary, mildly-amused smile was good enough for Nott.

“How’s the accountant stuff going?” she asked after the buttons had been safely stowed back into her pockets. “Are we looking good for the month?”

“More than good,” Caleb grinned, and swiveled the whiteboard around for her to see. “We are looking the best that we ever had, spatz, thanks to Fjord and Jester for getting their classmates to hire me. Movie night tomorrow will go off without a hitch, I am sure. We even have money for extra pizzas! We can even go to a bookstore, can you imagine?”

“I can,” Nott said happily. “I can imagine it real well. Thanks, Caleb.”

He scoffed. “Do not thank me, I am just riding on a wave of good luck and kind people.”

“No, no,” Nott shook her head. “I meant, thanks for keeping me around. And for, um, buying me stuff, and letting me live here. And for not kicking me out even though you’re rich now.”

“I am not rich, far from it,” he laughed. “But…” he added in a more somber tone, “well, of course. Of course. It is a pleasure and an honor that you are my friend, and I wouldn’t exchange that for anything else.”

Nott cracked a small smile. “Thanks, Caleb,” she said. “I wouldn’t, either. Here, have some chips.”

After that lull in the conversation, he went back to checking over his math, then set on memorizing the contents of their budget. But just as the thought crossed his mind that, actually, I could just buy paper now to do this on, there was a loud cough from across the table. He looked up, and saw and Nott eyeing him over nervously, the snacks discarded at her side.

“Er…yes?” He blinked a few times. “Is everything alright?”

Nott sighed, and pulled out her phone. “That depends,” she said, and handed it over to Caleb. “That depends on whether or not you’d be willing to ask a specific purple bastard out for some more coffee.”

Caleb lowered his marker and frowned. “Er…what?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you spoke to Molly?” she asked. “Alone I mean, not at movie night. I know you don’t use your phone, and I bet you haven’t gone out together since.”

“Well, no,” Caleb frowned, “I have not. But…do I need to?”

“Didn’t you have fun on your last coffee-not-a-date?”

“Yes? I did?”

“So don’t you want to do it again?”

Caleb hesitated. He fidgeted with his marker. “No? Er…yes. Wait, no, that’s…” He sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes, I had fun,” he said. “But that does not mean…that does not mean I want to ask Molly to do it once more. I mean, what reason would we even have to meet up? He does not have any of my possessions, at the moment, and I do not have any of his.”

Nott stared at him incredulously. “Caleb…you don’t need an excuse to see him.”

He bit his lip. “Yes, I do.”

“What? Why’s that?”

Caleb sighed, and put his forehead against the kitchen table. “I…I can’t just ask him. He’s probably busy, and probably has much better things to do.”

“Now, that’s just a lie,” Nott countered. “Both of us know pretty well that he’s been bored out of his mind ever since the Moondrop shut down.”

“Ja, alright, but he would probably be offended if I asked him to coffee out of pity.”

“But it’s not out of pity, it’s because you’re friends and you want to hang out!”

“Are we…friends?”

Nott leaned over, and prodded Caleb between the eyes. “You won’t be for long, if you keep avoiding him! Come on, it’s easy! Just pick up the phone, ask him if he’s busy. I don’t know why you’re so freaked out.”

Caleb considered this. He thought about telling the truth, telling Nott that he couldn’t do it, that he was afraid to ask, that if he initiated things, then he would be acknowledging his own feelings, that he would be indulging in something he shouldn’t, that he would be making things real, that he didn’t deserve this happiness, and that worst of all, above everything else, he would be betraying her—

But then he thought about how much he didn’t want to say any of that. He thought about how excited Nott was for him, how supportive she had become, and really, how nervous and excited and elated he felt at the prospect of seeing…

Caleb sighed, and reached for Nott’s cell phone.

“Fine, fine. But you’re going to help me compose the message, spatz. I…I really don’t remember how to do this sort of thing.”

Nott grinned. “Oh, I know exactly what to do! I’ve been reading that magazine Jester showed me, ever since you got back from the last date."

“You’ve-wait, what?”

“Shhh. Don’t worry about it. Okay now, type this out—”

•

Today 6:22PM

Nott TB: good evening Mister Mollymauk Nott TB: it has been some time since we last spoke Nott TB: how are you doing? Molly Tealeaf: … Molly Tealeaf: nott what the fuck Molly Tealeaf: I just saw you today Molly Tealeaf: why are you talking like that

Molly, sprawled across his bed and back in his silk pajamas—at six in the evening, no less—watched the tiny dots appear at the bottom of his phone. He had a glass of wine in one hand, and an appropriately bewildered expression across his face.

Nott TB: schmid Nott TB: *scheiss Nott TB: I am so sorry this is Caleb, actually Nott TB: sorry

Molly spat his wine out. He practically threw the glass onto the nightstand in an effort to free both his thumbs.

Molly Tealeaf: CALEB Molly Tealeaf: GODS I THOUGHT THIS WAS NOTT Molly Tealeaf: CALEB???

There was a brief pause. And then the words:

Nott TB: yes, caleb Nott TB: Caleb Widogast? We went on that double date once Nott TB: and we fought a really big toad together a couple weeks ago Nott TB: I think you told nott a fortune this morning, I am her roommate

Molly snorted, and shook his head.

Molly Tealeaf: yes yes dear I know who you are! Molly Tealeaf: I was just surprised!! Molly Tealeaf: I didn’t think you knew how to text

Another pause.

Nott TB: nott says that youre joking and also that this is a common theme in our group chats Molly Tealeaf: shes absolutely correct Molly Tealeaf: now, how have YOU been? and how can I help you?’

Molly was not too proud to admit that he waited, with baited breath, for the answer.

Nott TB: oh Nott TB: actually I have been well Nott TB: and I was wondering Nott TB: if you were free any time this week? Nott TB: id like to get some coffee together, if you also would Nott TB: my treat this time

Molly felt his soul burst into song.

Molly Tealeaf: that sounds lovely!! Molly Tealeaf: and I would never say no to such a gentleman Molly Tealeaf: Wednesday or Thursday works for me! Nott TB: thursday it is

Then there was a long pause, and the “…” icon appeared on the screen for almost a minute, before one last text came through.

Nott TB: I have missed spending time with you Nott TB: see you then.

Then this was followed by another message.

Nott TB: im back Nott TB: I hope your happy Nott TB: im deleting this conversation off my phone

Molly rolled his eyes, and waited a few more beats, just in case there was more on the way. When nothing else happened, he sighed deeply, screenshotted the entire exchange—for posterity’s sake. Then got up and waltzed out into the kitchen for more wine.

As he closed the refrigerator door, his eye caught the calendar that Fjord had hung up ten months ago. They had used it for about a week, before promptly abandoning it in favor of never knowing what day it was.

He flipped all the way to the last page, and found at this coming Thursday.

Soon.

•

“Oh, but then he confesses his love for her!” Jester sighed, leaning flush against the brick wall behind their building and pressing a hand to her forehead. “He tells her that no matter what, he would stay true to her forever, and then she starts crying because no man has ever been that open and loving to her in her entire life!”

“Uh-huh,” Beau mumbled. She was only half-listening to Jester’s account of Guard of My Heart, instead directing most of her energy towards trying to open the lid of the dumpster—which had sealed itself shut with a thin layer of frozen trash slime—as fast as possible, so they could get back inside. The weather forecast had predicted heavy snowfall tonight.

“But then in the second act, her family finds out about it!” Jester continued. “And of course they don’t approve, she’s a high-ranking member of the Crownsguard! And he’s only a lowly butler, but they’re so in love, and—”

“Uh-huh,” Beau muttered. She had almost lost her thumb to jagged ice, and was now trying to figure out a different angle of attack.

“Beau, are you even listening?” Jester asked, crossing her arms. “You just cut me off.”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” Maybe if she wedged a stick under the hinges, yes, that could work—

“Beau! Beauuuuuu, are you sure you’re listening?”

“Yeah, yeah, Jester, their…families suck?”

“Oh. Oh, you were paying attention! Right, okay, so, basically what happens next is that her dad forces him to a duel for her favor, and the conditions are that he has to duel a member of their family. And that sucks, because all of them are such badasses, you know? But then, oh my gosh, I didn’t even see this coming, she’s also in the family! And so now it’s two lovers forced to fight, one to prove his love and one to defend hers, and…”

Beau finally gave up, and took a deep breath, and slammed her shoulder as hard as she could into the tiny gap between the top of the lid and the dumpster itself. It flew open, leaving a rank trail of festering garbage-stink through the air as it went, and Beau was so relieved that she almost immediately threw the trash bag over the edge to call it a day.

But she didn’t.

Which was fortunate, because if not for that split second of hesitation, if not for the quick pause she had afforded this errand, Beau would have completely missed the tiny black bundle huddled in the corner of the bin, draped in dirty, wet fabric, and shivering in the cold.

She dropped the garbage bag onto the pavement. She threw her face closer to take a better look, ignoring the smell.

“What’s wrong?” Jester asked, and joined her at the edge of the dumpster. “What is it?”

“Do you see that?” Beau asked. “I…I can’t really see in the dark, but…there’s something in here? I think it’s moving?”

Jester peered in. “Ugh, it's so gross, what are—”

Her eyes, glowing a faint purple and built for low light, immediately latched on to what Beau was talking about.

“Oh, shit,” Jester breathed. “Oh my gods, what should we do?”

•

TUSK LOVE 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO Today 7:09PM

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: heyyyyyyyyyy guys? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: uh (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: I think maybe whoever is free right now might want to come over (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: beau and i sort of found something???? (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*: and we need a little help Lavender Thunder: of course, I’ll come now Lavender Thunder: what kind of help? NottSoBrave: and what kind of something??? Seaman: fuck, im at work Jes Seaman: is everything alright? Drunkmonk: we're fine but like Drunkmonk: just Dunkmonk: you have to come and see alright? we don’t know what the fuck to do NottSoBrave: caleb says “don’t worry” NottSoBrave: caleb says “we’re on the way”

Today 7:14PM

NottSoBrave: caleb says “help we don’t have a car” DrunkMonk: good gods Lavender Thunder: im stealing Fjord’s station wagon, i’ll get you two NottSoBrave: caleb says “tell Molly I said thanks” Lavender Thunder: (o^-')b Lavender Thunder: be there in a flash

• • •

💚 ☕ ☕ 💚

#AND WE'RE BACK #critical role #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #jay writes #critfic #widomauk #fjorjester #text #long post #cr2 #the mighty nein #something new for me and you

[tumblunni]

Headcanons about maddiman's wife:

* name: Joy Nocturne

* her personality is like your classic 'overbearing wife' or 'loud woman' except its not a bad thing and i hate how its always stereotyped as a bad thing. She's confident and outspoken and badass and these are all the things that made Madds fall in love with her. Its also the things that makes everyone else think she's 'such a nag' and start rumours that their marriage is on the rocks, because he 'must be so whipped', etc. And back when they met in highschool everone thought she was a 'typical american thug' who was 'being a bad influence to that poor honor student'. Basically she's used to people hating her personality and she was already secretly doubting whether her husband also found her annoying/bossy/unattractive cos of this. Like she's usually able to be confident in the face of hate from strangers but as she grew to love this man she felt her old insecurities coming back. They were both having trouble talking about their feelings and worrying that their spouse didnt love them...

* oh and BIGGEST HEADCANON: she very much loved him and there was no villain of this story, just a sad tale of two people falling apart due to miscommunication. I think its infinately sadder if they were total soulmates and never stopped loving each other even after this tragic falling out. I feel like Joy just had to make the decision that was right for her son when her husband was never around to be part of his life. And with the way maddiman acted she had every reason to feel like he'd stopped loving her...she didnt leave because she hated him but because she didnt know why he was so distant and thought he hated her...

* She never remarried. She did manage to live a full life and raise their son to be an upstanding human being, but she never forgot about madds and never found anyone she loved more than him.

* She was actually there when he died. The point where he passed out midway through writing a diary entry wasnt actually the exact moment he died, his coworkers found his comatose body and rushed him into surgery. He was on life support for a few days befofe he faded away, having never woken up. Joy rushed over on the fastest flight possible to get to see him before it was too late, but she only managed to arrive in time to see his yokai self emerging and vanishing into the ether. This phantasm haunted her for the rest of her life and she sorta inherited his fatal yokai obsession, in hopes that what she saw was real...

* after her son died at just 17, she became even more tied to the desperate hope of her husband's old fairytales. Ultimately though, she was never able to find him. She actually could have walked straight past him and not been able to see him. And madds wouldnt have recognised her, only wondered why something in his heart says that this particular trespasser in the haunted hospital should be guided to the exit without harm.

* they first met in high school, oddly enough due to maddiman's dad being a massive asshole. Nogut always pressured his son to be perfect and live out all his dreams for him, blablabla, gotta get to the best schools and never get a single bad grade. Joy and madds werent in the same class so they hadnt talked much, and she only recently transferred anyway. But one day Nogut was in school for a parent teacher conference and he was being his usual pissy entitled self, blah blah im too important to be here and my son is the cause of all my problems somehow. So he got uhh.. "Distracted". Aka being an absolute fuckin creeper to underage highschool girls! Thus the day Joy first became friends with maddiman was also the day she became mortal enemies with his dad by kicking him in the balls. And shortly afterwards she bumped into maddiman who was hyperventilating in the same closet she coincidentally picked while hiding from Groinally Harmed Anger Dad. He was having a panic attack from the general stress of his dad being here, and she helped support him through it which became a really valued memory of his, and why he sees her as his hero. Well, that and shortly after when she was like 'lol i just met this total creeper and kneed him in the nads' 'THATS MY DAD' 'geez sorry dude' 'NO THATS AMAZING'

* she also helped him pull off his ultimate escape from trash dad. They had a plan in place for a long time that as soon as he turned 18 they were getting on a motorbike and riding off to Anywhere But Here. But he didnt expect her to literally bring a birthday cake and throw it in his dad's face! And then that was the beginning of their relationship. Madds had totally been crushing on her for quite a while but never knew how to confess, until the sheer awesomeness of that moment made him accidentally squeak it out while they were riding for their lives from an angry old man.

* oh and also there were probably a lot of funny cute clueless moments where it kept going over joy's head that he had a crush on her? I was thinking of a cute idea for a valentines day flashback where maddiman was too shy to give her a box of chocolates and she comes along like "man i didnt get any chocolates im glad you managed to get some!" "U-uhh no i umm..wanted to give them to someone but i...didnt." "Oh that sucks dude! At least now you can eat them all to yourself to help forget that girl. Lemme sneak one, tho!" And thus he ended up sharing the box of chocolates with the perosn he wanted to, even if she had no idea. And it was a very good day!

* also i think considering the pattern of him bottling up his feelings and running from relationship problems, it seems likely that he ran from the altar on his wedding day. But it was also one of the only times ever that that happened and it wasnt super sad. As he does, he got all worked up into a mess of anxiety and convinced he knew the only answer- the stupidest and most reckless answer! So even though he loved this woman he was so scared that he'd be a bad husband that he tried to jump out the window at the last second without even once trying to actually talk to her about any of this. But this time she did manage to find him! All the friends and family were like 'ugh leave him, he doesnt love you', but she knew there had to be more to it so she ran out in the rain in her wedding dress and searched for miles until she found him sobbing in a public bathroom. They managed to talk it out and get to the bottom of his feelings and actually resolved something for once, and it all went okay. It kinda helped that seeing her turn up all bedraggled in the wreckage of the dress she loved so much, bleeding from her tight heels and fighting off several biker gangs along the way helped convince him that "hey maybe she thinks i'm worth fighting for, so i should try and believe her". So yeah then she swept him off his feet and they danced all night as everyone else in the church was all "ugh she looks awful" and "why would she take him back", but the moment was so magical that they just didnt care. And thats how the biggest failure of a wedding was also the happiest day of their lives! (..though sadly the same doubts and communication difficulties would come up again and not be resolved so easily...)

* i keep flip flopping on what career i want to give her, but at the moment im thinking possibly owns a lil bakery/coffee shop type place? Madds is one of those people who cant stand the bitterness of tea/coffee and prefers caffinated sodas instead, but he used to drink strong coffee every day back when he was human just because his wife made it. He loved all the rest of her cooking so itd be cruel to say no! Its a lil detail that i figured would be cute but also foreshadow how he'd meet his tragic end, as it shows he's capable of bottling up his feelings for years even when talking would be so much easier. Also probably a comedic note that he's coming up with nonsensical mad science techniques to make himself able to drink coffee! "Shall i genetically modify my tastebuds or create an undetectable translucent plastic armour plate for my tongue?"

* also maybe she could make cinnamon rolls shaped like madds's doofy cyclops head when they reunite in the future. Just because i want to eat that.

[sanpatron]

Face to Face

Ten miles outside the city of Spirale, towards the southwest, is a location known as the Mistwood; a massive forest stretching out towards the western coast of the island with a misty haze covering it all. There we can find the Boss of the 3rd Street Saints standing on the outskirts of the forest, looking towards the application on his phone detailing where his double might be located.

It had been several hours since the Boss first learned of his double existing, an alternate version of himself who was very far away from the version of Spirale he called home. He and his double’s existence were both seemingly linked together, which proved to be an incredibly unfortunate thing as if death were to fall upon either of the two the other would pass away alongside them. This situation was further complicated by the fact that his double somehow contained a virus in himself that slowly rotted him away at the inside, leaving both his body and mind in a fragile state.

As the Boss began to walk into the woods, keeping an eye on the app in case of any sudden movements, he started to wonder what exactly the mental state of his double may be. Exactly how fast was the virus corrupting him? There was no way in telling whether it had significantly damaged the man or barely affected him at all. Of course the Boss hoped for the latter, but at this point it was really anyone’s guess. If he could reason with the man and have him return home quietly then good, that would be fantastic. Yet if his mind had somehow deteriorated away then the Boss would not hesitate in doing whatever possible to keep the two of them alive, even if that meant knocking the man out cold. Which, in hindsight, shouldn’t be too difficult.

Closer and closer he came towards his double’s spot, a rather dense part of the forest, and seeing that the man had not began to move away he figured it’d be best to just call him out now. Carefully though as he had no idea the state of his double’s mind.

“ Victor! ” he begins. “ Come on out! I don’t mean any harm, okay? Swear to you! Just wanna talk is all. ” Silence. No response at all

Ten minutes would pass before the sound of branches shuffling nearby would catch the Boss’ attention. As he turns to look he spots a man peering out from behind a tree, looking frazzled and a bit hesitant to step forward, not to mention completely identical in every which way to himself. Face, body, height, hair, every single little thing, down to the tiniest detail, that physically made Victor who he is was the exact same as the Boss. Only real significant differences being Victor’s lack of scars across his body and how his face appeared. Despite it being an exact copy it did not the same impression one would get when looking at the Boss. The same kind of face that read ‘I’ve gone through and seen some shit’.

“ C’mon, Victor. Just wanna talk. ” he tells the other man, sitting himself down onto the forest floor. “ I know you must be feeling really scared and confused right now, but I’m here t’ help. Okay? Promise you that. ” There is no hostility in his voice, no sense that he means to do harm. Whatever weapons that might have been on his person are tossed aside in order to fully make his intentions clear. All he does now is wait.

“ I’m.. I..... I don’t know what’s happening. I want answers, okay?!?! ”

“ And I’ll give you those answers, alright? Just take it easy. Relax. I know this has to be real confusing for ya. Waking up in a whole new world that feels exactly like your own but isn’t. It’s rough. ”

“ No shit! ”

“ Easy now. Look, I can get you back home. You see my phone here? ” From his jacket he pulls out the cellphone, showing off the application. “ This app is gonna help you out. All it needs for it to function is your consent to head on home and we’re good. ”

“ How in the hell am I supposed to believe that, huh?!?! How can I be sure you’re not just gonna.. get rid of me. Erase me! Keep me from existing at all! Am I even real? Has my whole life been a lie?!?! I just- ”

“ Sit the fuck down and shut the hell up. ” he yells out. The other man remains silent for a moment before he comes towards the Boss and sits right across from him.

“ You’re real, okay? Every part of you. Memories, thoughts, feelings, all that and more are just as real as mine are. They just all happen to exist and belong to a reality different than mine. ” He pauses. “ Shit, that’s still really weird t’ take in. Like I’ve seen plenty of stuff in movies, games and comics that talk about that sorta thing. But to actually find out it’s all real? ” Out comes a low whistle. “ It’s insane. I mean.. I guess I kinda figured it was possible considering all the yahoos I’ve met and the city, but knowing that there could be more than one of me running around too? Now that’s just straight up wild. ”

There’s another moment of awkward silence as Victor keeps his head cast low, the Boss soon sighing before he continues.

“ You need to go back home, man. Got a lot of good going for ya from what I know. Can’t let that niece of yours down, right? I’m sure she’d be heartbroken if her uncle wound up not coming back. ”

Victor’s head seems to pick up a little at the mention of his life. “ How much of it do you know? My life that is. ”

“ Bits and pieces, honestly. Shit’s fragmented as hell in my mind. Shouldn’t be there at all if ya ask me, but the fuckers running this place decided to keep some of it in. ” A pause. “ ‘s a good life from what I can tell. Comfortable. ”

“ What about you? What’s your life like? ”

Now that’s certainly a big question to answer. Thinking it over the Boss figures that there’s no real harm in telling Victor the truth as to who he is and what he does, not to mention that he isn’t even originally from here in the first place. It is himself he’s talking to after all. Not like he could necessarily get in trouble in Victor’s reality.

“ Well my life’s basically a whirlwind of crazy bullshit and people trying t’ kill me. Couple that with a real extreme hedonistic lifestyle and having way more cash than I know what to do with half of the time. ”

“ So you’re some kind of playboy millionaire? ”

“ Eh, kinda sort of. I’m a criminal, man. A crime lord t’ be exact. ”

“ A criminal? So just like me then..... ”

“ Oh, no. No, no, no. Not at all like you. Y’see, Victor, you’re a guy who, while having a pretty successful business to run, got himself a taste of thieving and shit at a young age and continues doing it out of some desperate need for more thrills and excitement in your life. ”

“ I.. I mean I guess....... ” He pauses for a moment, a nerve had seemingly been hit. Or at least some sort of realization on this little hobby of his. “ Okay.. then what about you? What makes you so different? ”

“ I’m committed. I’ve gone further distances than you ever will or even want to imagine. I’ve done shit that would make your stomach churn. I’ve worked my ass off and got my way to the top by spilling the blood of any and all motherfuckers who thought they could stand in my way, managing to build an entire empire that could rival any other organization throughout history. I’m the guy people point at when they ask ‘hey, what’s wrong with our society’. I’m nothin’ more than a beast, someone you should never cross and never want to become. ”

“ .....Are you happy with your life? ”

“ Yes. ”

Another pause. Victor seems almost taken aback by this. Hard to say what he should do with this knowledge. Resent the man? Take this as a warning? Should he even believe him? No clue. It’s a moment later that he tries to speak up, yet before he does the Boss cuts him off.

“ Give up on the heists. No need for it. You got a good life. If you want some more excitement then go get yourself a motorcycle or some shit. You ain’t cut out for this at all. ”

“ But I— ”

“ No but’s. Do it. You’re a good man, Victor. Way more than I could ever be. So I don’t want you running around making a mockery of this kinda lifestyle. ”

A sigh leaves Victor as he sits there ruminating through his own thoughts. There’s so much to digest, so much to comprehend about the world around him. Not only that but of his life as well. Would he even remember any of this when he got home? Couldn’t say. Couldn’t even tell you if it mattered to him or not. He was exhausted and just wanted to sleep for such a very long time.

“ I think I’m ready to go home. You have my consent. ”

“ Alright, good. Let’s get this over with then. ”

And with a simple tap of his double on the application the process begins and Victor’s body starts to dissipate. Though before he vanishes entirely he does ask the Boss one last question, one that had been on his mind ever since the two encountered each other here in the forest.

“ Hey, I never actually got your name. Kinda thought it’d be Victor too, but something tells me it isn’t. ”

As the Boss looks at the man disappearing right before his eyes he wonders to himself whether he has any right in knowing the truth. Even if he is another version of himself that doesn’t entail him an immediate right to this knowledge. This is something incredibly important to the Boss and not just anyone can be told of this secret.

But hey, he could at least do him a courtesy this one time.

“ It’s Django. ” he tells him, his tone quiet. “ Django Foley. ”

“ Huh, that’s surprising. Well.. goodbye, Django Foley. You try and not get yourself killed. ”

“ Goodbye, Victor Dumont. I ain’t making any promises. ”

In those last moments he could see a brief smile on his double’s face, one that he would return as well, and before you knew it he was gone. The forest fell quiet again, nothing but the ambient noise of whatever might be in the general area. A loud, tired sigh comes from the Boss as he immediately falls back onto the forest floor and lies there. Far as he knew he’d need a long-ass nap too. At least it was relatively peaceful around here. Good change of pace.

“ Well that was fucking exhausting. Think I’m gonna just lie down here for like a couple of minutes. ” Another sigh. “ That guy was a real friggin’ pussy. ”

#Isola Drabble ⚜ #Event ⚜ { Subversion Part 2 } #Hope this is alright.

[theguywhoisjustkindofthere]

I wanted to put DND stuff here so.

Ok so, my friend who I will call GE is currently running a campaign called “when the sun vanished” in this world, there were once two suns, about 20 years ago or so, the second sun vanished, causing the world to go into disarray due to the fact a lot of places sorta used a lot more solar power. current cast:

GE:the DM, a good guy, but has some terrible foresight, very creative and has a habit of being EXTREMELY descriptive of his dnd.

Tessa:Played by SR,Tessa is a female war forged bounty hunter, was met when The business man had a fucking bounty put on his head and they made a deal so that Tessa wouldn't fucking kill him. and then shit went down from there, my character went and tried to talk to him and talk through what happened and how he acts, (honestly it was a fun interaction, very dramatic), and that sorta led to Tessa respecting My character, Oyasumi. more general lore is that she does her job in order to help her creator, Sid if i remember right, due to super magic cancer and the fact the Bostonian elves (blue skinned elves that act like they are from Boston) are currently hold them hostage in some form as well.This character may be an artificer,but due to how they were made, they are a fucking tank and a very very scary one at that. I don't fucking remember this characters fucking alignment. (probably lawful neutral) Amonita:A newer character so I don't have AS much to say, they are played by RB, a good guy who likes rats, she is an elf who lived in a forest and isolated for a long long while. They are a mushroom druid as well. Usually high, but a sweet and kind person all around. Neutral Oyasumi:My guy,although the youngest in the party, also the one that has stuck around the longest due to the last two party member either leaving or getting the boot. mans was born in one of the darker cities, a human fellow with a taste for magicians work, lived quite the lonely life till age 10, where he was adopted by the prairies and renamed to “derrick prairies“, although he doesn't like the new first name so he just goes by Oyasumi prairies,afterwards he lived for a little while with the family before his brother, Talen prairies was adopted as well,talen prairies was adopted when Oyasumi was 14, around two years younger then him, and proceeded  to make his life a living hell. With a neglectful father, a lovable but sort of passive mother, and a hell spawn little brother, His only escape was the sun-down tavern, where in he preformed as a magician as well as just helped around. The barkeep, Boris, was viewed as a sort of father figure in Oyasumi’s eyes. Years later, at around the age of 18, his brother and a small gang of his goons thought it would be a good idea to beat the ever loving shit out of him and take his magic supplies. Afterwards, when he woke up, the first thing he found was his signature weapon, the knife made by the god “johnny marrow” (i didn't know that at this point but it is.) Somehow, this weapon was SEETHING FULL OF MAGIC ENERGY, turning him into a wild magic sorcerer. He then proceeded to find his brother at the bar, in which boris allowed him to fucking murder him and hide the body behind the bar itself. then a month later, an invitation to a widespread party had came, he, under the guise of going to the party, used it as a chance to get away before he was caught. Oyasumi as a person is a strange one, although kind and nice is prone to violent moments of anger and rage during battle, has accidentally murdered bandits before, heavily hates the fact that he does this, by the  by, saw tessa get power-word killed and is still fucked up by it. Definitely not mentally stable.      a wild magic sorcerer currently Multi classing into celestial warlock due to lack of actual support on the team. patron is fire demon wilbly wilbow. Side characters: Boris: Oyasumi’s father figure, currently staying at his bar/hotel. Good guy.

The sun cult leader:these are the motherfuckers who stole the sun, and the leader power-word murdered tessa. fuck this guy. wilbly wilbow: Oyasumi’s patron, fire demon assumedly? not sure if he good or evil tbh. save my life twice though so there's that. Dr.disembodied voice: the newest character so far, apparently talked to Tessa whilst she was waiting for her new body to be finished. Showed her some stuff about the Boston elf currently coming to decapitate my character for 3′000 gold and  where the FUCK the sun cult leader is (Tessa proceeded to threaten these guys through the fucking soul void btw), a guy who is apart of like a group of people with special powers, he has soul manipulation to an extent from what I remember.

Johnny marrow: this motherfucker started as a semi joke character, now a god that has created a knife and wants Oyasumi to double steal the sun for him now.

will be updating this list as shit goes on, as well as adding and removing as things go.

#dnd #character shit #my party is fucking insane #Oyasumi prairies #Tessa the fist-fighting robo artificer #Amanita the mushroom druid