#the issue i was having looking at red shinys is that they were far too red or orange or pink

[hearties-circus]

Ok I figured out what the issue with shiny sudowoodo faye was. It's that they weren't a shiny liepard

#al art #al ocs #the issue i was having looking at red shinys is that they were far too red or orange or pink #faye is maroon #its annoying to have to look through brown shinies since do few of them are maroon but its alright #and it ended up being once so fitting like liepard #faye #and i guess #axel #is here too #pmd au

[willowser]

you don't know how much comfort your dragon king bkg drabble has given me ever since you posted it!! i keep reading it i love it sm 🥹

as it turns out, the man bakugou is — a bit harder to handle.

he sleeps like a heathen; you once thought the dragon bakugou to be a bit lazy, with how often he tended to curl up in the fields of grass, warm under the sun, but now — it would seem his little human form needs significantly less rest.

almost up all hours of the day, and when he does finally lay down, he's everywhere. a mess of limbs: one thrown carelessly out to the side and the other bent at an angle you can't believe doesn't hurt his joints. his head stays tucked into you somehow, either buried in your neck or pressed against your ribs — or you'll wake to find him nose-to-nose with you. he still snores like a dragon, however.

you're also beginning to wonder if there is a bottom to the pit of his stomach. he ate much before, whole fields of things, but you expected that appetite to dwindle, at least a little, now that his stomach has decreased considerably in size. and in number ? you're not even sure how many stomachs a dragon has; that's not something that was mentioned in the fairytales.

it burns through him quickly, gives him more energy than he needs, and it doesn't ever seem to affect his weight much. already, he's huge and thick with muscle and eating as much as he does never dulls the severity of his cut abdomen. not that you're looking all that much.

— not that you have a choice not to, as he seems to have little-to-no understanding of —

the door to the bathhouse kicks open, with enough force that you already know who it is without ever turning to look. you try not to shriek when you see him, because he seems to like that in some evil, impish way.

you've been alone to wash so far, thankfully, as the inn you'd managed to find was small and far enough out from the nearest kingdom that the occupancy was low — enough for you and your little brute.

the man bakugou comes to stand in front of the bath, blinking and huffing against the steam. finding clothes for him was — nearly impossible, and so the trousers you'd found hanging on someone's line outside fit above his ankles, a bit too tight around his waist. instead of a shirt, you've wrapped him in a scratchy linen, swaddled him up like a baby to cover the small smattering of scales that decorate his body, almost like freckles from the sun, though they gleam just as bright and red as they ever have. no matter his form.

a horn has started to sprout, on the right side of his forehead, and you've done your best to cover that, too.

you have no idea how long this man thing will last. if it's permanent or if he even has control over it. the last thing you need is for him to switch back, somehow, while you're in the middle of feeding him, absolutely demolishing whatever tavern you're in and calling all of king todoroki's guards to attention.

bakugou grunts, almost sleepy, and tosses a fat, weighty sack onto the edge of the bath. it jingles a certain jingle that makes your heart stop.

"oh, allfather—" you move for the edge, awkwardly keeping one arm against your chest despite the fact that he's seen it all by now. when you peek inside and confirm your fears, you lob it back to him furiously, as if it were a steaming potato. "where do you keep getting this stuff?"

things have started to turn up, miraculously. shiny things — like coins and rings and gems. things he could not have simply found rolling around in the dirt.

"go put it back!" you hiss at him, and the tone of your voice makes his frown deepen. you never realized how pouty he was, when he was still a dragon.

you think he understands you, and you're pretty certain he just chooses not to listen; instead of doing what you've told him in the slightest, he simply dumps the coin-purse to the floor, and then lets his linen and stolen trousers cover it as he unceremoniously undresses.

the biggest issue that you would say the man bakugou poses is — his complete lack of understanding of personal space.

"bakugou!" your voice wavers, shocked again by his nakedness. as if you haven't seen it all by now. "no, you — get out!"

but he does the exact opposite, which is hop into the steaming water, ignoring the arm you hold out to keep him away as he saddles up beside you. skin against scales, pressing a nose into your hair to huff out his annoyance, to make it something you can feel.

if anyone were to walk in right now, they would — probably think the lie you'd told the innkeeper was true. that you are a simple traveler and this is your mute, over-sized husband.

regardless, you think this behavior isn't polite. especially in a public bathhouse.

"bakugou," you try again, turning your face away as you speak to the wood-paneled wall. "i'm taking a bath, you have to wait your turn."

all you receive in response is another huff against your ear and a low rumble of disagreement from his chest.

he has yet to speak back, and has only used inhuman sounds as his points of conversation. the only word you've ever heard him utter is oi, which he does when he really thinks he needs your attention. you're starting to wonder if he's named you that in his head. oi.

curiously, you turn back to him and the movement has him pulling his face from your hair, just enough that he can look down at you, too. watch you, with the red-rippled sea in his eyes.

they're — amazing, you will admit. just as bright and detailed as they always have been. fit for a fairytale told by the fire, veiled by the soft-ash of his lashes. he watches you through them, half-lidded, and you wonder if it's something other than fatigue that has them so heavy.

"do you know what i'm saying?" you ask quietly, voice lacking the firm heat you want it to. instead it's heavy, too, weighted by something soft and unfamiliar and frightening. "can you even understand me?"

bakugou doesn't respond, not with a huff or a rumble or ever a purr, like the one he let out on the night he lay over you by the lake. you've only heard it sparingly since then, oftentimes in his sleep when his face is pressed into you.

you try not to frown at his silence, try not to let it disappoint you because it shouldn't; he's a dragon afterall, and you're not sure what it matters. the little horn protruding from his forehead catches your eye and you reach up to touch it gently, watching him blink away the water that drips from your wrist — and then he's turning into you again, too close.

beneath the water, you feel his hands skate up your bare thighs, wrap around your waist until your chest is pulled flush against his. you feel his huff, again, against the damp skin of your neck but it's slower, lighter. not laced with his frustration. some unknown thing you feel guilty for liking.

you drop your hand to his hair, rushing full force into all the damned things you've thought about doing but have been too afraid to. he's soft between your fingers, and you trace your nails lightly against his scalp until he groans quietly; a new noise, one you don't know how to translate.

your fingers stop when they brush upon little spines that have grown at the base of his skull, that have started to trail down the center of his back.

suddenly, tangled up in the bath with him, you wonder how much time you have left.

bakugou huffs again into your skin, a little fiercer this time, and it's because of his light jostling that you realize how rigid you've gone. you try to relax so that he will, too, though you must not do a convincing job, because a sharp nip comes to your earlobe.

"ow!" you squeal, but he doesn't let you go far, not even as you try to jerk away from him. in fact, the harder you try the more his teeth show: into your cheek and the point of your jaw and then dangerously low on your neck.

it's not until you finally freeze that he stops, huffing again, with a warmth that burns more than the steaming water.

and then, very quietly, he grumbles, "shitty wife," into your collarbone, just before biting you again.

#anon dear friend i am so happy you have enjoyed it !!! and that it has comforted you in some way !! #i am wrapping you up in a big hug and so is our bratty lil dragon🥹 #this message was just so cute and i wanted to write more for you !!! #this is all for you my peach my plum 😌 thank you for being here and reading my silly things !! giving me a reason to share them !!! #how fuuuuunnnn i am enjoying him way too much LOL #he's a brat !! a biter !!! he does what he wants !!! #god this is going to become a thing on here isn't it LOL might as well start a tag because i have much more to say !! #the lil world-building i have done for this in my mind...you have no i dea LOL #thank you again dearest !! #he he he he said THIS IS MINE 😊 #and by this he means YOU 👀 #๑ remember me love: bakugou ๑ #✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou

[imaginmatrix]

zutara au where katara is an up and coming model/actress and zuko is the closed off guy who serves her tea at the shop next to her apartment.

Okay. Look. Listen. Against all odds, despite them filling all my favorite tropes, I do not actually… ship Zutara. I don’t read fics of them, I’ve never written them— which is wild, right? Wacky? Crazy? Doesn’t make sense. I know. I agree. Idk.

So I wrote this anyway and I have no clue what the fandom is like or how they characterize these characters but HERE WE GO DIVING IN HEADFIRST ANYWAY LETS GO

Katara already knew her and her brother had wildly different priorities— but moving into her new apartment proved that Sokka existed on an entirely different plane of reality.

“My sister has the cash to live anywhere she wants, but she picks a place next to the weirdest building in the city.” He had grumbled the day of the move, which kind of pissed Katara off.

Not because he called the building weird, but because that was his issue with it.

He should have been far more upset with the fact that the skyscraper belong to Ember Corp.

Katara pointed this out to him, to which Sokka only shrugged in reply, “I figured you didn’t care about that seeing as you moved in next door anyway.”

And then she had to stomp away in a huff to stop herself from snapping at him, because that would be hypocritical and ridiculous; but it wasn’t like she moved in next to the corporation that demolished their family’s home and community for parking lots because she didn’t care!

She did care! A lot! Maybe too much!

But then that was why she chose this apartment; the skyscraper next door wasn’t just a skyscraper.

Like Sokka said, it was…

Weird.

Good weird.

To be fair, Ba Sing Se as a whole was a little weird— a hodgepodge of shiny, towering buildings and ancient temples and Spiritbucks and cobblestones and sky trolleys.

No structure could compare to this one.

From a distance, it looked like a regular skyscraper; the architecture was more creative than most, but it didn’t stand out.

Then one’s gaze would travel down, and there, at the base…

A tea shop.

An old tea shop.

It wasn’t even all that fancy, though there were pieces that hinted at a rich history— the small, painted wood pillars on either side of the door, the round windows with various designs etched into them, and the roof— oh the roof! A beautiful hip-and-gable one with the edges flared up and rust red shingles that complimented the muted green of the shop itself.

Katara loved it.

And the fact that a skyscraper had been built atop was so ludicrous it made her dizzy.

She’d once asked Toph why it was like that, and in turn Toph explained that the rumor was that the old guy who owned the shop had been offered a ton of money from Ember Corp for the location. He refused to sell, but reportedly told them he’d be willing to sell the air above his shop for the same price, and a promise that his shop would stay— he wasn’t selling the land, after all.

So they reinforced the shop and foundation to be able to bear the weight, and just like that, a new skyscraper had risen above the city.

Katara only went to the tea shop.

She wasn’t sure what about it was so enticing. Maybe it was how peaceful it was; even when the giant sliding doors were left open in the summer, the noise of the city never seemed to penetrate the shop fully. The smell of tea soothed her. It was soft, and sweet, and earthy, and strangely reminded her of home.

Which was wildly different in culture, but… she felt safe here. Like she had at home. Before it was taken.

That could be the reason she came— she liked seeing something old and ancient stand up to an entity like Ember Corp. It filled her with satisfaction to see something refuse to give in to intimidation, to be immovable in the face of “innovation.”

It was almost sacred in a way.

So she found herself stopping by every morning on the way to work— be it a photoshoot or commercial or audition— for some matcha to perk her up. And every evening, if the shop was still open, she’d grab a Jasmine brew on the way home.

The owner was so kind, a round, elderly man with a gravely voice filled with mirth. He insisted on being referred to as “Uncle Iroh,” which Katara didn’t mind. Sokka was her only family in the city, as their Gran and Father and what remained of their community migrated to the southern towns after their neighborhood was sold out from under them.

She could use an Uncle these days.

On one particular morning she was running late. She whirled into the shop, juggling various items while she searched her purse— sunglasses, phone, the audition packet, chapstick, planner, book for the trolley— ah! Wallet!

But when Katara turned to the counter, it wasn’t Uncle Iroh who she saw; a grumpy looking guy stood there, shaggy hair falling in gold eyes. Those eyes were what she noticed first, bright and intense and filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite place— anger? Contempt? For… her?

The scar, she noticed second. Which upon reflection was a little ridiculous, considering that the angry deep red color and mottled flesh took up nearly half of his face. Not that it should have been what people saw first when they looked at him, she was certain he probably hated it being pointed out, but it was hard to miss.

They stared at each other a moment.

“…Hi?” Katara ventured, less confused by the new employee than the fact that he apparently had no customer service skills. No “Welcome to the Jasmine Dragon!” or “Can I take your order?” or even a rude “What do you want?”

The boy’s brow just furrowed deeper, which seemed almost impossible, yet there he was— basically one big furrow at this point.

“…Um…” When it became clear the grumpy employee had no intention of being friendly, Katara ventured, “Can I have a hot matcha to go?”

She waited anxiously as he punched the order in, finally speaking, “That’ll be six yuans.”

It was Katara’s turn to be the furrower. “Six? It’s usually three, isn’t it?”

This was met with an eye roll and a breathy huff, “My Uncle is… let’s just say he gives discounts more often than he should.”

Katara lamented that the new price would likely mean she’d only have one tea stop a day rather than two, but didn’t argue as she zipped open her wallet, uninterested in prolonging this weird interaction that made her more and more late by the second. She passed the rectangular coins over, and the boy dropped them into the register before turning on his heel to prepare the tea.

That was weird.

But so was a tea shop with a skyscraper balanced atop.

She crossed her arms, checking her phone for the time over and over again. Why was this taking so long?

Katara leaned over the counter to see what the boy was doing, and blinked. The kettle was—

“Are you… are you boiling water?!”

He frowned back at her— though it was likely just a regular look, if frowning was his default state as it appeared to be. “…I don’t know how you make hot tea, but here we boil it.”

“Yes but—“ Katara cut herself off, biting her tongue so that she could calm the ever growing frustration bubbling within. Sokka said she was hot headed, ironic considering where their ancestors came from. Finally, she managed to speak with an even, calm tone; “You have a boiling water tap.”

“…A what?”

Dear Spirits, this guy...

“The owner, he only uses the kettle at night when it’s less busy, for a more authentic experience. In the mornings, he uses the tap— or an electric kettle.”

The guy glanced around. “Because the mornings are so busy?”

To be fair, the shop was empty at the moment. Katara wondered if it was due to the upcoming holiday.

“Yes.” Katara ground out through gritted teeth.

He shrugged in response. “There’s no rush now, so it’s not a big deal.”

“It is!” She finally burst out, “It is a big deal! I’m late for work!”

The boy seemed taken aback for a moment, blinking at her. Then his face hardened. “It’s not my problem if you didn’t leave early enough.”

“But it is your problem that you don’t know how to do your job correctly!” Katara snapped back.

This seemed to rile up the guy even more, his nostrils flaring, “I didn’t even want—“

He was interrupted by the scream of the kettle, and he turned his back on her to remove it from the heat. Katara rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache encroach on the edges of her consciousness.

It only grew when she looked up to see him dropping a teabag into the cup of water.

“What are you doing?!” She demanded, aghast.

He glanced up, confusion mingling with his frustration this time. “Making tea?”

“I asked for matcha!” Her voice was shrill now, but she couldn’t help it— who hired this guy?!

“…Is this not matcha…?”

“That’s green tea!” And in a bag rather than an infuser, no less!

“Matcha is green tea though.”

“It’s prepared differently!” Katara leaned further over the counter, her braid hanging over the opposite edge as she craned her neck, “Look, Uncle Iroh keeps the materials right there under—“

“Hey, don’t lean over here like that!”

“Or what?” She retorted as the guy stalked towards her, “Mad that I know this place better than you do?”

With the way his eyes narrowed, he was indeed mad about that. “No, I’m not— the money is over here!” He waved his hands at her in a shooing motion. At least he had the intelligence to know not to put his hands on her.

Katara snorted. “Do I look like a robber?”

“You look like a pain in the—“

“Nephew? I heard the kettle…” A sleepy voice interrupted them, and Katara quickly straightened from being sprawled over the counter as a bleary-eyed Uncle Iroh parted the curtains to stare at them.

“Uncle, this girl—“ he pointed, “should be banned from the shop.”

Uncle Iroh yawned, turning his gaze to Katara. Then he brightened. “Ah, Miss Katara, a pleasure to see you— picking up your usual, I take it?”

“Well, yes, but…” she hesitated. A moment ago she had been ready to go ballistic, but Iroh had called the guy ‘Nephew’… so he was his literal uncle? Tattling to family felt a bit childish. “It’s fine.”

“Is it now? Well, I see you’ve met my nephew, Katara, this is—“

“Lee.” The boy interrupted immediately, his hand flying up to cover the name tag pinned to his apron, “My name is Lee.” He looked meaningfully at his Uncle, who merely shrugged.

“He will be working here from now on, so I hope that…” Iroh’s voice trailed off as his gaze wandered to the cup of tea. He blanched. “Z— Lee, did Katara ask for green tea?”

It was Lee’s turn to go pale. “Well, she asked for matcha, and that’s basically—“

Uncle Iroh groaned as he hurried to the tea, nose wrinkling in disgust, “And a bag, too! Where did you even find— no, no bags! We use these!” He waved around an infuser wildly, and Lee grew more indignant.

“Well how was I supposed to know that?! Why do you have teabags if we don’t—“

“Never mind that!” Uncle Iroh bustled around, scooping the matcha into the chawan to whisk, “Clearly you are far worse off than I thought— what has your father been teaching you?”

“Business! And finances, and—“ a furtive glance was shot towards Katara, “and things way more important than making tea!”

“Bah!” Iroh finished whisking and began to prepare the drink, “Very few things in life are more worth knowing than this.” He snapped the lid onto the cup and passed it over the counter with a cheery smile, “There you are my dear, I hope it’s to your liking.”

Katara was already speeding for the door with a wave, “I’m sure it’ll be perfect as always— see you tonight?”

“We’ll be open— and I’ll make sure my Nephew knows how to at least brew jasmine by then.”

“Uncle.”

Katara jogged to the sky trolley stop, her mind racing a bit. Uncle Iroh said Lee would be working there from then on… and if today was anything to go by, her once peaceful escape was about to become a whole lot more stressful.

Unfortunately, slinking into the agency thirty minutes after she was supposed to did not go unnoticed. But the lecture about professionalism and punctuality in the industry was brief, and the day passed in a blur. Lee was nowhere to be found during her evening stop, though Uncle Iroh was appalled to discover that he had charged Katara full price for the matcha. He insisted on giving her the evening mug of piping hot jasmine at no cost, and she took up her usual place on the patio to sit and read and relax before tromping up to her apartment.

The weeks passed fast, and to Katara’s dismay, Lee was now there every time she stopped in.

Figures. Her luck had always gone overboard to balance out— placed first in the third grade spelling bee? Broke her arm on the way home. High school valedictorian? Congratulations, your childhood home is being bulldozed! Career picking up? An annoying man now works at your favorite place in the world.

…Maybe one of those things wasn’t like the others, but it still irked her.

But Lee didn’t speak to her again beyond the curt welcome he gave everyone, the exchanging of funds (he gave her the Uncle Iroh discount now,) and the call of her name when the tea was at the counter.

Katara didn’t like hearing her name on his lips. It was wrong. It made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, made her body tighten and squirm in an uncomfortable way.

A fight or flight response, she reasoned.

And then one evening, he didn’t call it.

She was curled in the plush chair that Iroh always let her drag to the patio in the evenings. Days were getting longer again, so the sun hadn’t quite set yet, casting a golden glow between buildings.

The day had been exhausting; three auditions and two photoshoots. Katara had been up since 3am for the first shoot, but despite her yawns and heavy lids, she couldn’t resist the allure of Iroh’s tea.

Katara was reading. Well, she thought she was reading; but when the sound of a clearing throat made her eyes flutter open, the sky was much darker and the streets bathed in blue rather than gold.

Her head felt cotton-y in the way it did when one took an impromptu nap, and she yawned, looking up from her curled up position on the chair to see Lee standing next to her.

“Ah— sorry, is it closing time…?” She began to straighten out, reaching for her bag, but Lee shook his head.

“No, uh… no. I just… here.” He held out the teacup. “Free refill.”

Katara blinked, “Oh.”

Lee shifted uncomfortably, and it took a moment for Katara to realize what she was seeing; he was nervous. “If you don’t want it, I can—“

“No, no I do!” She nodded to the side table, placing the book that had become wedged between her and the cushions on it as well. “Tell your Uncle thank you.”

“Uncle’s not here.” Lee said. Then he hesitated. “I… I can tell him when he gets back.”

Katara reached for the cup. It smelled amazing, and she sipped at the rich, floral drink. It was different than usual, but good different.

So she took a deeper sip, licking her lips as droplets clung to them.

Her face lifted to Lee, who was shifting his weight back and forth anxiously. Anticipating.

And then it hit her.

“You made this?” She asked— since that first meeting, Lee had only made one of her orders when his Uncle had stepped out. It had been rather disappointing.

“Uh… yeah.”

“It’s really good.” To her surprise, Lee almost smiled, the corners of his lips tugging up as his body relaxed.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She confirmed. “Did you add something different…?”

“A few things— Uncle thinks that jasmine is best on its own but…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I… got bored.”

“Well maybe you should be bored more often if this is the result.”

The furrow that lived between Lee’s brow and where another brow once grew smoothed in surprise— no, that wasn’t a strong enough word for it— shock? The emotion was fleeting, gone in an instant, though his face managed to retain its new relaxed state. “That’s the second compliment you’ve given me. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.”

Katara surprised herself by laughing. “You gave me a free drink, so maybe I should buy one too.”

Lee ran a hand through his hair, revealing how his scar stretched up to his forehead; “Well, uh, I should—“

“Do you want to sit for a second?”

Lee immediately, wordlessly dragged one of the patio chairs up next to her in response, flopping into it.

They sat in silence for a minute, watching the occasional car pass by.

Then Katara couldn’t help herself; “Why did you start working here? You didn’t seem like you liked tea all that much.”

Lee sighed, his hand mussing up his hair again; he did that a lot, as if he wasn’t used to having so little of it. “I… messed up big time back home.” His head tilted back to gaze up at the skyscraper that towered above the shop behind them. “So my father sent me here to… I don’t know. Punish me, I guess. Cut me off, told me I couldn’t come back until…” he trailed off. “…you know, I was lucky my Uncle even agreed to let me stay here. If he hadn’t… I don’t know what I would have done.”

Katara couldn’t imagine it— what sort of father would abandon his kid like that?

Sure, she felt abandoned by her own dad half the time, but… at least when he left, he did it knowing her and Sokka were safe and cared for. And at least she didn’t doubt that he loved her, as angry as she was at him for his choices.

She cleared her throat, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have pried—“

“No, it’s okay.” Lee’s voice had a rasp to it, the sound of someone trying to hold emotion at bay. “It… it was probably time I told someone about it. I haven’t exactly made a ton of friends here.”

Katara spoke before she even realized she’d decided to; “You can come out with me and my friends sometime.”

Lee tilted his head to her, a puzzled expression on his features, “…Me?”

“Do you see anyone else here?”

And then a real smile played across his lips, “Are all your friends hot shot movie stars too?”

It was once more Katara’s turn to be surprised. “You— that— I’m not even close to a ‘hot shot movie star!’” She laughed and tugged on her braid nervously, suddenly feeling shy. “You know who I am?”

“Yeah.”

“Since the beginning?”

“…Yeah.” His voice was softer, more reserved, as if the question had stirred something in him. Guilt?

Katara pressed on, not wanting to ruin the new atmosphere they’d built for themselves. “So you’ve seen me in… what, shampoo commercials?”

Lee shook his head, “Nah, my fa— someone my mom used to be friends with, uh… helped fund that one movie; Glacier Soul?”

“You… you remember me from that?” She laughed again, both delighted and aghast, “It wasn’t even a big role, I wasn’t a lead or anything— and I wasn’t great in it—“

“No.” Lee‘s voice was firm, no room for disagreement. If he didn’t sound so earnest, Katara may have assumed he was just being nice. “You were perfect.”

Katara shifted, warmth spreading on her cheeks. The prickle on her neck, the tightness in her body, those both were present now too; but it wasn’t fight or flight this time, was it? Had it ever been? “Well I… I’m glad you liked me. I mean, me in it. It was my first dramatic film and… and I’m just… glad.”

They both fell silent, Katara downing the rest of her tea to keep from saying more dumb things.

“So…” Lee was hesitating again. “When… when are you and your friends next…?”

“Oh!” Katara reached for her bag, rummaging for a pen, “Here, one sec—“ she grabbed her napkin and jotted down her number. “Text me when I leave, I’ll let you know next time we have plans.”

Lee seemed completely out of his element as he stared at the napkin she’d shoved at him; as if he couldn’t believe it was actually there. Finally, he nodded, “Right, yeah, that sounds— yeah. Good. Great.”

“Yeah?” Katara asked teasingly.

There was another hint of a smile when he replied with, “Yeah.”

Her body was heavy again, so Katara started to gather her things. “Well, good to know you’re not so bad when you’re not extorting people or serving them poisoned tea.”

Lee sputtered, “I… I haven’t done either of those things!”

“Mm, that green tea you tried to give me looked pretty deadly.” He seemed troubled despite the tease, and Katara nudged him as she stood. “Tonight though? That jasmine tea was ridiculously good.”

Lee relaxed again, understanding the jests now and looking quite pleased with himself, “I practiced.”

“I can tell.” Katara yawned and stretched, her body complaining after being curled up for so long, “Well, Lee, I’m glad I got to know you a little better.”

He was running a hand through his dark locks again, looking as if he were going through some sort of inner turmoil despite the small smile on his lips, “Y-yeah, me too, listen, uh…” he took a breath. Then another. “I’m… I…” and then he deflated, “I’m glad too.”

Katara said goodnight, made him promise to text her as soon as she walked out the door, and as she strolled to the next building over, she realized she felt light. Bubbly. Happy.

So their first meeting had been rocky; she couldn’t blame the guy for having a bad day, especially since it sounded like he’d been through the wringer shortly before that.

Why should a bad first impression affect this one?

Katara’s phone buzzed with a text, and when she pulled it out she saw a little fire emoji.

And then she texted back something that normally she’d never in a million years say.

‘Is this your way of saying I’m hot?’

Sokka would laugh in the face of anyone who implied his uptight little sister had flirted.

Lee’s reply was immediate.

‘What?! No! What???? It’s just my favorite!’

‘…wait, don’t take that the wrong way, I mean, I’m not saying you aren’t’

‘Uh’

‘I mean’

‘Can you just ignore all of that? Please?’

‘…Please?’

Katara laughed. Normally she might over analyze his panicked denial, worry she overstepped, but… something felt different about Lee. He was so serious, serious in a way that made her loosen up.

Her brother often told her she was a stick in the mud. And maybe she was, maybe she was austere and boring and too much a stickler for rules… But Lee made her feel like she was fun, too.

‘Ignore what?’

‘I didn’t see anything :)’

‘….thank you.’

She hummed to herself as she savored the taste of jasmine still on her tongue.

Maybe Lee wasn’t so bad.

And maybe… maybe now she had more than one reason to look forward to her morning matcha.

#anon #ask #writing prompt #morgan murmurs #zutara #zutara fanfic #fanfic #one shot

[lilyginnyblackv2]

T&B Clothes and Style Analysis:

This all started when I was thinking of a way to try and get a better gauge on Ryan’s age, but then it started to kind of become it’s own thing. Basically, something I’ve noticed is how aspects of many (though not all) the character designs are indictive of the decade they grew up in.

Let’s start with the oldest of our heroes (I’m limiting it to heroes so this post won’t be any more massive than I’m sure it will already be).

Kotetsu and Antonio: We know that they are both 38 in S2, so that means they were born in 1942. So their childhood and teen years were the 1940s and 1950s, and you can see the influence of those time periods on their outfits.

Back in the 1940s and 1950s cowboy inspired fashion was very popular. My grandfather had a bit of this style too, and he was born sometime in the 1930s. Of course, Antonio’s outfit is also meant to reflect his NEXT persona as well, being Rock Bison and having, iirc, a meat sponsor.

Meanwhile, Kotetsu has that snazzy look about him. Clean cut, button up shirt, tie, sleek and ironed pants,  button up vest - his look is, in a way, rather hip in comparison to Antonio’s look. I also feel is has more of an upscale, blue collar vibe to it than Antonio’s, which style originated with blue collar, “working on the farm,” and legit cowboy types. Of course, Kotetsu doesn’t hold himself in that way, though I do think that his outfit is what adds to the moe gap and charm of Kotetsu. He has this put together appearance to him, but his life is a mess and he can be very immature at times, lol.

(This post is SUPER long and image heavy, so the rest is under a Read More!)

Next, let’s take a look at our newest heroes, since the 1980s influence on their style is obvious. All three of them are teens, so it would make sense that their fashion style and sense would reflect the 80s the most.

Subaru’s is, imo, the easiest to draw a link to in regards to possible inspiration. The outfits aren’t an exact match, but that puffy life preserver like jacket + jean pants combo just screams Marty McFly. I know he is also meant to reflect the “Red Ranger” trope found in series like Super Sentai and stuff like that, but I also think that Subaru’s problems with being looked down on and such is similiar to Marty’s with his issues surrounding being called chicken and what not. They can both be impulsive and quick to anger in that regard.

Lara has a school uniform on or, at least, an outfit inspired by one. Obviously, there are some liberties taken with the design, certain elements to make it cuter and more in-line with how school uniforms are often depicted in anime. The blazer top is really what gives it the 1980s Japanese school uniform vibe though. And since Lara is meant to represent magical girls, it makes sense that she would be wearing a school uniform.

Thomas has the most..anime-like outfit of everyone, imo. His outfit isn’t something you would someone wearing just every day, ya know. I tried looking a bit into high fashion/runaway fashion and the like, but didn’t get very far with that. I think the aspects of his outfit that have some basis in the 1980s though is the combo of “very shiny leather jacket” + tight jean combo like we see MJ wearing in his Thriller MV. 

Okay, so now let’s take a look at characters that we know the exact age of, or have a very good, general idea of how old they are. First up here is Barnaby.

Listen, Barnaby’s outfit really doesn’t have much going on in the way of 60s or 70s fashion (the eras when he was a teen), but his hair absolutely does! Without a doubt, the inspiration for Barnaby’s hair was Farrah Fawcett and her hairstyle became popular in the 1970s, when Barnaby would have been in his late teens and early 20s. He had more of a general shaggy hairstyle in the few flashbacks we see of him as a younger teen.

This chunky gold chain is also very 70s. 

Now we are more in the “we have a general idea how old they are range, and it was confirmed via outside sources.” The one that I feel most concretely on this is Karina, who is 19 in S2. That means she was born in 1961 (one year earlier than my parents, lol) and her childhood was in the 1960s and her teen years were pretty solidly in the 1970s outside of 19.

Whenever I think of Karina’s dress in S1, I my mind just always goes to the kinds of short dresses that were really popular in the Brady Bunch era. Other elements of her design are definitely different, but that dress is such a key aspect. Her S2 design feels more mature and like Mary Tyler Moore-esque.

Ivan, I believe, is 21 in S2. I think it was confirmed, somewhere, that he was 18 in S1. So he is only a little bit older than Karina and his teen years were the 1970s, period. Design-wise Ivan is a complete fish out of water. At least Barnaby had the hair and jewelry tying him to the 60s and 70s. But Ivan is meant to be a Weeaboo, so that whole idea and concept is far later, and his visual appearance reflects that.

However! Edward Said’s book Orientalism, which goes on to describe the term as:

the exaggeration of difference, the presumption of Western superiority, and the application of clichéd analytical models for perceiving the "Oriental world". This intellectual tradition is the background for Said's presentation of Orientalism as a European viewpoint reflecting a contrived Manichean duality.

(Source: The Wikipedia on Orientalism)

And that fits in with Ivan’s Weeaboo persona quite well. It’s a critical concept that is well known today (and which has a long standing documentation of existing before Said’s book was publish), but was only brought into the spotlight with this book in 1978. 

Edit: Check out my reblog where I have more information on how Ivan’s outfit actually connects back to the time period.

The last character that we have a general idea of around about what age they are is Pao-lin. She was 13 or so in S1 and around 16 in S2.

The major inspiration for her outfit is obviously Kill Bill, lol. Especially with the martial arts and everything. But, of course, her S1 outfit also takes inspiration from jumpsuits that really gained popularity in the 1970s and tracksuits too. Her later outfits in The Rising and S2 are more masculine presenting and have her wearing tank tops and hoodies, both of which started becoming more commonplace as everyday wear in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. (This could also apply to Ivan, who is wearing a black tank top under his jacket.

Finally, we get into the characters whose ages are vague: Ryan, Nathan, and Keith. Now, Ryan is younger than Barnaby. That’s basically all we have to go off of really, but in The Beginning we can see that he looks in his late teens (he has a slimmer face similar to Thomas and Subaru).

His outfit there also has a very 70s disco vibe about it. Though the hair and other aspects of it are also a bit late 90s/early 2000s in feel too. His earlier designs were quite 60s and 70s inspired too:

The one in the top left almost feeling New Wave / Hippie-ish to some extent (a part of me would have loved if they went with that design, but I love his current design too). His outfit in The Rising (and S2, which I won’t even bother talking about here) are a bit more:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ design-wise.

The closest stuff I could find were like sports jerseys/sport shirts from the 70s and those shorts pictured, lmao. Those shorts are a bit shorter than Ryan’s, and they don’t have the more visually appealing hanging material, etc. But they do show how there were these sort of long shorts/pants in that era as well. Though, visually, Ryan still fits more in the 2000s era here. I started this whole research and post hoping that some of Ryan’s outfit could give more insight into his age...but nope, lol.

More info on Ryan’s outfit! :D

Anyway, our final two are Nathan and Keith. Nathan has made statements that make it seem that she is older than Barnaby and Keith, but likely not quite as old as Kotetsu and Antonio. I’ve always assumed that Nathan was in their 30s. Placing their teen years closer to the late 50s and 60s. 

And while a lot of Nathan’s outfits can just be simplified to the idea of being flamboyant, I feel a lot of Nathan’s presence and the air about them is very similar to the Ballroom Scene of the 60s:

While the outfits are not one-for-one matches, there are similarities in posing, feathers, mesh, color choices, and just the outlines that are created. I will say that the shoulder pads in Nathan’s S1 outfit are far more 80s though, lol.

Edit: I realized I forgot to explain what the Ballroom Scene even is and how it relates very specifically to Nathan’s gender identity. From the Wikipedia page:

The Ballroom Scene is an African-American and Latino underground LGBTQ+ subculture that originated in New York City. Beginning in the late 20th century, Black and Latino drag queens began to organize their own pageants in opposition to racism experienced in established drag queen pageants. [...] While the initial establishment of Ballroom mimicked these drag queen pageants, the inclusion of gay men and trans women would transform the Ballroom scene into what it is today: a multitude of categories that all LGBTQ+ people can participate in.

There is a fantastic documentary on this whole subculture and scene called Paris is Burning (link is to the YT video of the full documentary). I watched it back in college in my Queer Studies class. It’s very enlightening and insightful, but it does deal with some heavy topics (SA, suicide, etc.). I definitely suggest giving it a watch if you can though! 

Edit: Some more excellent information on Nathan's and Pao-lin's styles. Pao-lin's connection to Bruce Lee and Nathan's fashion connection to the 1970s glam era + visual kei (his The Rising outfit).

FINALLY! We have Keith. His age is completely unknown. I’ve always felt that he was closer in age to Barnaby than Kotetsu and Antonio. His outfit really doesn’t tell us much. It’s a very “All-American, Hard Worker” guys kinda outfit. Definitely something you would find in the 70s (image pictured above is from the 70s) and 80s, though his pants are more 80s-like than 70s (more straight than flared). 

(Though, looking at that above image, it seems like Barnaby’s big belt is also very 70s-ish!).

Anyway, I feel I can’t talk about Keith and his appearance and style without also mentioning this: 

Keith looks like Tom Cruise, and once you see and know that, you cannot unsee it either, lmao.

Okay, okay, let’s wrap this up! I’m going to be including sources and references for the clothes images and that’s basically it. If you have anything else to add, please do, and thank you to anyone who has read all the way to the end! It’s greatly appreciated and I hope you enjoyed reading this! <3 

Sources:

Antonio’s: blue17 and Vintage Dancer

Kotetsu’s: Vintage-Retro

Lara’s: qph.cf2.quoracdn . net

Pao-lin’s: Plaidstallions

Nathan’s: Esquire

Ryan’s: Vintage Vixen and Bored Panda, Dress That Man and The Empire Tribe

#T&B #Kotetsu T. Kaburagi #Barnaby Brooks Jr. #Taibani #tiger & bunny #T&B 2 #taibani 2 #tnb #tnb 2 #tiger & bunny 2 #tiger and bunny #tiger and bunny 2 #Nathan Seymour #Pao-lin Huang #Ryan Goldsmith #Karina Lyle #Keith Goodman #Antonio #Lara #Subaru #Thomas #Ivan #clothes #fashion #meta #long post #image heavy post

[j-ellyfish]

I tried my hands at a Penny redesign because I don't really like how she looks, especially her model. I think her design doesn't fit very well with her character/involvement in the story. • Natural black, messy hair she struggles to tame. Old red dye she's outgrowing. I made several attempts that kept her og haircolors, also total readhead and total black, but I think the double color fits with her 'dual' nature, it's just poorly implemented in her official design imo. Making her black haired gives her a "forgettable NPC" vibe, but the red dye here and there suggests there's more to her than what you see. And red=danger so it hints at something, too.

• Porygon-Z Print because ... Oh, you know why. I really dislike her hoodie print, it looks too much like irl Pokémon merch rather than merch in-universe. Honestly that's one of my main issues with Penny's entire design, she looks too much like someone who streams Pokémon videogames on Twitch rather than an actual Pokémon character. I didn't want to make her too distant from her official design, but if I did, I'd give her a school uniform like all others to underline the "Miss No One" vibe she's supposed to have until her story unfolds.

• Sorry that bag is just too fluffy// And she's not a fluffy person at all, so I toned down the 'kawaiiness' of the plush bag (if I gave her a normal school uniform I'd get rid of the entire Eevee bag and give her something like a small Eevee keychain plush hanging from her standard school bag). Tbh I wouldn't even give her an entire team of Eevolutions, that feels like a lazy, low-hanging fruit choice from GameFreak. I'd give her a team that leans more towards her personality and interests ... And if I were GF I could decide which Pokémon get to be in Paldea so she'd have a Porygon-Z and a Klinklang, as well as at least one Galarian Mon since that's where she comes from. Sure she can have an Eevolution or two, but damn, not six.

• Klink print on her tights!! Reference to her being into engineering and STEM stuff, of course :D I actually wanted to make the print bronze+silver as in shiny and not shiny Klink (since that'd be pretty nerdy) but it didn't look well. Maybe I could've made them teal and green (the color of Klink and Shiny Klink's noses) but they're both cool colors that aren't far away in the wheel and I think it wouldn't have looked any better on a gray background.

#pokemon #pokemon penny #pokemon redesign #ary makes art #well not really but still #gen9

[angel-inrealtime]

November F1c Prompts Day 11

Day 11 - Sight (Landscape)

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, take a second to remember where you are (LA) and whose bed it is (Daniel’s).

He really wasn’t part of the plan. Not that you’d really had one – just if you had, he wouldn’t have featured. Probably.

He’s devastatingly your type, actually, but the timing...the whole point is that racing was supposed to be a post-messy-breakup hobby, a thing you could share with friends that was just... straightforward, for fun. A trip to Spain is always fun. A friend of a friend wasn’t supposed to know someone in his garage, invite you all to a much more exclusive party than planned, and even then, you were going for one drink and then back to your hotel. You were certainly not going to giggle at ‘enchante’ and a cheeky smile.

Except you did.

And then there you were. He won Monaco and then you were in his bed, because what’s a bit of casual sex between new friends?

(then France, then the UK, then Germany, then Hungary)

Then it’s summer break, and the work you lined up in LA long before you ever met him is the perfect excuse to continue this whatever-it-is.

You hike up behind the Hollywood sign just because you’ve never been, catching up about how the season has been so far. He has Things with a capital T on his mind, you can tell. But he listens as attentively as ever as you fill in the blanks between the last time you caught up (though you text sometimes, now, it’s not just whatever races you can make it to).

“Can I tell you something?” He asks finally, bottom lip bitten puffy by his anxious mouth, but golden tan and shiny with sweat under the beaming sun.

You knock your shoulder into him, part reassurance (part a reminder to the warning bells in your head; he screams commitment issues about as loudly as you’re sure you do, it’s not That). “Always. Penny for your thoughts, sunshine.”

It makes him smile, fleeting but real. “I think I need to get out. Of Red Bull. It’s...” You let him have the space to get his thoughts together. “I don’t like who I might be, if I stay.” He rubs his knuckles unconsciously (the ones that went through the wall, black and blue and angry). “It’s not...” He keeps his eyes down, hands clasped from where his elbows are resting on his knees, surveying the hazy city landscape and the dirty sky around the letters. “It’s not how I thought it would go. But I haven’t...” His huff of a laugh is self deprecating and finally he looks at you, and you wonder if he knows that the name for what he’s feeling is vulnerable. “I haven’t told anyone. Not yet.”

You try to look at him like you would a frightened animal – it seems the same. “It’s a big decision. Even to think about. I’m always here if you want to talk it through, or whatever. So you’re not carrying it all on your own, you know?” You nudge him again, gently. “That’s what friends are for, sunshine.”

(You wonder if he knows it’s relief on his face, like you’ve taken a weight off his shoulders just by stating what – to you – is obvious)

“Friends.” His full, wide grin reaches his eyes and then some, seems like it comes from deep within, bursting bright light out to whoever it’s aimed at. (Devastating, you think). “That’s us.”

You sip from your water bottle, watch his eyes watch your mouth even as your lips curve into their own grin. “Comprehensive benefits offering, too.”

His laughter breaks around gasps, loud and so fucking sincere.

(the pride when he puts it out there a few days later is an unexpected feeling in your chest)

/

It’s quiet along the bay in Abu Dhabi at night, your shoes slung onto your fingers and over your shoulder. It feels like skipping class (if class were his own leaving party).

“Thanks for coming with.” He says suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence you’ve been walking in. He gives you a rueful smile. “It was just…”

“A lot?” You guess. Daniel nods, curls bouncing on the top of his head. “I can imagine. It’s not, like…” You search for the right words. “Easy attention to just sit with.” He makes a curious noise that makes you think you’re on the right track. “I mean it feels like disappointing people, right? They didn’t want you to leave but you had to make the right choice for you. And so they’re sad about it, but they want to be excited for you and it’s all just…” You shrug, give him an encouraging smile. “A lot.”

The grin he returns to you is distracted (but you still think you were right). Eventually, without a word, he slings himself down into one of the benches, taking in the manmade landscape in front of you. You perch on the back of the bench, legs stretched out next to his upper body. Your thigh, where the dress has the slit up as high as is decent, presses against his arm. Daniel leans into the contact. “We can go back in a bit – or you can whenever you want, sorry, that was probably...rude.”

“Danny, it’s fine.” You hold out a hand, pinky finger extended. “Promise.”

He looks fragile, and small, blinking up at you. But he smiles anyway (he always smiles anyway) and locks his finger through yours for a second. “Thanks.” He clears his throat when he realises how softly it came out. “Thank you.”

You nudge him with your leg. “It’s all good.” You comb your brain for something to distract him with so he doesn’t brood the night away like this. “When are you back home for Christmas, then? You must be looking forward to it.”

His smile goes warm. “Yeah, for sure. New York for a bit after testing, then into Perth mid-December. Hang out on the farm. Probably teach Isaac some more bad words by accident.”

You snort. “Still saying cash money bitches, huh?”

“Will not be deterred.” He slings his arm over your legs, comfortable proximity seemingly welcome. He’s still looking over the landscape, but he seems more settled, less frantic with the need to be out and away from that specific attention. “What are you doing for Christmas? In the cold.” He screws his entire face up at the thought.

You lean back on your hands, tilt your face up to the moonlit sky. There aren’t enough stars here, too much light pollution. In the desert though, you bet you can see them for miles. “Don’t know yet. Haven’t really made any plans.”

“What do you mean?” He sounds confused.

You peer down at him with one eye shut, confirm the incredulity on his face. “I just haven’t made plans yet?”

“But…it’s Christmas?”

It’s been long enough that it just is what it is (though it was hard earned). “One dead parent and one occupied with their replacement family do not a happy Christmas make. I spent it with Raf’s family the last few years, so…” You shrug, look back up at the sky. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Why don’t you come to Perth?” He says immediately. “There’s plenty of space to stay, and you can tag along with whatever, if you want. I always have friends over for holidays so it’s not…” He hesitates and then you feel him shrug. “It’s not weird, or anything.”

You think it might be a bit weird, to bring a girl home for Christmas when you’re just friends with benefits. But it’s not like you have any other plans (might have been avoiding thinking about it, actually). “I could give Summer Christmas a try.” You muse out loud.

“It’s the superior Christmas.” Daniel says with a smile you can hear. “It’s all good if you don’t want to. Just…you’d be welcome.”

You touch the back of his neck and he jumps, clearly not expecting it (you stifle a laugh). “Alright. If it won’t be weird, then…it sounds like a plan.”

It only feels like that’s what changes the landscape in hindsight.

#f1 fanfic #daniel ricciardo fanfic #November f1c prompts #daniel ricciardo x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #f1blr #daniel ricciardo fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 driver x reader #f1 driver x you #formula 1 x reader

[merryfortune]

The Treasure Hunt and the Freedom to Pursue Our Treasures

Written for Respectfulshipping Week 2024

Prompt: Free Day

Title: The Treasure Hunt and the Freedom to Pursue Our Treasures

Ship: Respectfulshipping | Ryoken/Spectre

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! Vrains 

Word Count: 3,794

Rating: T

Tags: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Scarlet & Violet, Kogami Kiyoshi’s A+ Parenting, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Hopeful Ending, Love Confessions, Running Away Together

   More often than not, Ryoken felt ungrateful.

   But he wanted more than being his father’s doll.

   Do this, say that, wear this, learn that. It was a constant barrage of activity: all to hone him into the perfect heir to the Kogami legacy but it was just too much. Especially as Ryoken felt as though he were failing to meet expectations, let alone meeting them or heaven forbid, exceeding them.

   And that was all he yearned to do. To exceed his Father’s expectations and make him proud. That’s all he wanted but all he got was far, far less. Far worse, even.

   His Father’s eyes were always stone grey when Ryoken fumbled. A quiet fury behind the stern expression as Ryoken misspoke, got less than expected on a test, fumbled his bows. It could be the tiniest thing and Ryoken would feel the ramifications of such a mistake like an earthquake.

   Every violin lesson, every calligraphy lesson, it all felt like a waste on Ryoken. His Father could invest the last coin in Ryoken, to cultivate him into an adult worthy of the Kogami name, but it didn’t seem worth it. Tradition was tradition, however, so there was one last thing to impart upon Ryoken in order to at least place him in the mould of the illustrious Kogami name and the legacy that entailed.

   They were the dragon tamers, after all.

   Spoken of animatedly and with awe far and wide, in every corner of Paldea. 

   Every species of Dragon Type Pokemon, Kiyoshi had brought it under heel without issue. Ryoken wanted to do the same.

   “Here. I have chosen this one for you.” his Father told Ryoken on the morning of his tenth birthday.

   “Thank you, Father.” Ryoken smiled and he accepted the gift of a shiny, red and white PokeBall.

   This was it. The final frontier. It was here, accepting this PokeBall, that Ryoken wanted to believe that he could redeem himself from being a disappointing disgrace to his Father. He would become the strongest Dragon Type specialist in all the region. No… The world!

   His heart fluttered as Ryoken felt the weight and curiosity. What was it? What was it, he wondered. A Dratini, a wyrm whose fate to flight would be as grand and fitting as his own fate to inherit his family’s legacy? Or would it be a Gible? A tiny land shark who would grow into proper fangs and claws, dominating all in battle?

   Or maybe it would be…

   Dreepy.

   Ryoken felt his hopes dashed as he opened the PokeBall and his starter Pokemon was revealed to him a jagged flash of silver. A creepy crybaby Pokemon whose dual typing was Dragon and Ghost. Not exactly a hopeful message, Ryoken would think so once again, he felt ungrateful.

   Dreepy’s big yellow eyes confused, as though sensing Ryoken was disappointed to meet it. It's just those eyes. That Pokemon. It all carried a message to Ryoken. That his Father had adjusted expectations since he had shown no promise in any other tradition of the Kogami Family and that things weren’t going to change.

   “When the school year begins anew for the year,” his Father continued, his voice droning and emotionless, “you will join Uva Academy and study there. When the headmaster decides, you too, will become part of the cohort to find your treasure.”

   “Thank you, Father.” Ryoken mumbled.

   He returned Dreepy to its PokeBall.

   Ryoken felt quietly excited again. At least at boarding school, he would be away from his Father’s iron fist. There was that to look forward to. He hoped when he returned, despite the burden of inadequacy that he felt, Ryoken might be half the Trainer that his Father wanted from him.

   Over the course of the next few days, Ryoken did his best to bond with his Dreepy. It was a boy and had a hardy nature, Dreepy wanted Ryoken to depend on him as a partner and in due time, they began to coordinate so when they arrived at Uva Academy, they actually made quite the mark. They swept through a lot of battles, even against Trainers who have had partners for far longer than Ryoken.

   Maybe that was a sign of things to come.

   But Ryoken wasn’t the only student in his class who had a part Ghost type, he realised.

   There was another boy, too. About his age, actually, or maybe two years younger. Ryoken wasn’t actually sure since he wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity or a chatterbox for that matter, he kept to himself, his drawings, and his partner Pokemon which was a Phantump.

   When Ryoken asked about him, the obvious pariah in an otherwise tight knit cohort of mixed aged, co-ed students, Ryoken was frozen out. He didn’t really get why though. They were all Class 1-A, they should act like it. Be friends and all that jazz but it seemed that there was a pecking order everywhere and whilst Ryoken had made a favourable first day impression this boy - Spectre - had not.

   Yet Ryoken found himself trying to get closer anyways. Even though he was plenty popular, especially compared to the artsy-fartsy loner. Of which, Ryoken heard plenty of rumours about.

   “He considers that Phantump his brother.”

   “He just stares at people, it’s creepy! And rude!”

   “He gave himself his own nickname, that’s so lame.”

   And the complaints just piled up there as every now and again, he did pick fights or disobey the teachers. It seemed that there were plenty of things about him amiss. Apparently. But it just made Ryoken all the more curious about him.

   A fateful afternoon occurred maybe a month into the first term when Ryoken finally found the stones inside of him to go and say hi to this classmate.

   It was a rainy day so everyone was stuck inside. Most people were slacking off their recess in the cafeteria, eating more than they would have or doing research in the library. As a result, the patio out the back which looked out onto the quadrangle was very empty since it made a big risk of getting wet. The downpour was speeding fast down and over the gutters, hitting the grass and cement. 

   It was exactly on that edge that Spectre was absorbed in drawing the rainy garden scene. So, Ryoken slipped out and got closer. He wasn’t even noticed by Spectre until he spoke up, clearing his throat.

   “Hey, how’s it going? I, um, notice you’ve got a really steady hand for painting. My Dad makes me do calligraphy lessons and I’m rubbish at them, think you can help?” Ryoken asked. All his words and excuse for saying hi bursting out of his mouth in one go.

   Spectre was scared out of his skin by this introduction.

   He looked Ryoken up and down.

   “You want to do what with me?” he exclaimed, blue eyes wide and gosh, what big and blue eyes they were. Ryoken had never known until now…

   “I want to practise holding a brush with you. You seem really good at it so…” Ryoken shrugged.

   Spectre pouted. His brows furrowed together as he warily mulled over Ryoken’s request. He seemed - rightfully - dubious that a student as liked as Ryoken was talking to him and trying to establish good terms. After all, Ryoken was at the top of all the report cards and rankings, he was regarded well by their mutual peers and seemed to run in really different circles and yet.

   Here Ryoken was and he offered up some materials to practise calligraphy. Paper, a brush, ink. Ryoken smiled. He was willing to get his hands dirty and so, Spectre softened. He made room for Ryoken and begrudgingly, they began to get along well.

   Really well.

   So well in fact that this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, actually.

   They were like chalk and cheese. Ryoken was sociable and friendly, Spectre was grumpy more often than not. Ryoken was good at battles and mathematics but Spectre was at the bottom of every tourney but did well in creative classes. It was an odd pairing and even one that Ryoken’s other friends tried to discourage but Ryoken was firm.

   Spectre was interesting and off-beat but that’s what he liked about him. He wanted to be friends. Ryoken wanted to get to know him and he did. He could confirm.

   Yes, Spectre did, in fact, consider his Phantump to be his brother. Though it was not for some quirky reason.

   It had found him alone in the forest as an abandoned baby. Maybe a couple more days, he would have become the living myth that dead children become Phantump but this Phantump rescued him from that alleged fate. It led an orphanage worker to his location and she brought Spectre into the fold of institutionalised care.

   Yes, Spectre did, in fact, stare a lot. He was creepy and he was rude. He couldn’t help himself. 

   He didn’t have that innate tact or social grace other people had, so he threw himself into studying the other in some attempt to assimilate it. It didn’t work but at least it helped with his art. He loved drawing landscapes best of all but his time spent studying others wasn’t in vain as he could do realism and caricature off the cuff ever so easily.

   And finally, yes, Spectre gave himself his own nickname. Oh boo hoo. He had a favourite Pokemon type and it was so personal to him, he wanted to honour it with a nickname. Ryoken genuinely respected that. If given the chance, he would go by Revolver because it sounded cool. So props to Spectre for not just taking that chance but forging the opportunity altogether.

   Then by the inverse, Spectre learned plenty about Ryoken, too. Though Ryoken wasn’t sure there was much about him worth learning. It's not like he had accomplished any feat so far to impress his Father… 

   His music was out of tune. With a violin, anyway. The music teacher put a guitar in Ryoken’s hands once and it just fit his hand right. His calligraphy was still bad. Spectre outclassed him in that department but he was still doing his best. And Ryoken was uncontested when it came to battles. Dreepy very well may evolve any day now.

   It had been three years since Ryoken had first come to Uva Academy and since then, had become best of friends with Spectre and was considered an elite trainer. The school had taught him well but it was Spectre’s companionship which meant the most to him. Returning home without him every six weeks was bittersweet.

   So when they got the news they would both be a part of the Treasure Hunt, it was the best news ever.

   For the ceremonies, Ryoken’s Father was invited. A lot of parents were invited, actually, but Kogami Kiyoshi’s attendance was uniquely requested due to the prestige of the legacy that he was the patriarch of. He accepted, wanting to see if his son’s learning environment had been adequate after all these years. Uva’s legacy was even more storied than his own after all.

   Ryoken was nervous to have his two worlds collide, however. The self he was at school and the self he was at home… He realised now, as a thirteen year old full of angst and self-awareness, that they were two different people. 

   At the podium, on the stage, his Father spoke coldly and from the assembly, right next to him, Spectre stared coldly. He didn’t see a resemblance between Ryoken or his Father aside from name. Ryoken twitched as he did his best to stay still and look attentive.

   “Achieve well.” his Father concluded his speech to much applause.

   The rest of his speech had not been quite so frank, nor curt. He used a lot of big words and spoke to his ideals which he saw as stone cold truths. Some students fell asleep listening to him, others were rapt. 

   Afterwards, he came and said hello to his son, and his son’s friend.

   “Father, this is Spectre.” Ryoken said. He made a sweeping motion towards his friend with his hands/

   “Actual name?” his Father prompted Spectre.

   Spectre didn’t reply.

   So Ryoken did for him. “He doesn’t have one.”

   “Family members of note?” his Father asked next.

   Spectre still didn’t reply.

   “He’s an orphan.” Ryoken interpreted the silence on behalf of Spectre.

   He could be rebellious in front of adults but this was… different somehow. It made Ryoken shiver, put a rock in the pit of his gut. He elbowed Spectre and Spectre finally bowed in some acknowledgement of common courtesy but it was the tiniest angle, the smallest shift of his head forward. Utterly blink and you miss it.

   “Occupation?” Ryoken’s Father said and.

   Ah.

   That got a response. Spectre’s eyes keened.

   “Artist.” he said.

   “Foolish.” Ryoken’s Father admonished him. He turned his attention to his son, “I don’t like this associate for you.”

   “U-Understood.” Ryoken murmured.

   Spectre’s lips pursed together. He had a feeling.

   So did Ryoken, actually. Spectre was dirt poor with no capital behind him due to his family circumstances. He was on the cusp of growing up into the perfect rendition of the starving artist stereotype, too… Eccentric and rude. Off with the fairies. Creepy. He was all those things and more.

   Ryoken licked his lips and his heart skipped a beat, “Father,” he said, “we’ll be seeing you. For the Treasure Hunt, Spectre and I have teamed up.”

   “No.” his Father replied, cutting and unamused.

   “Yes.” Spectre said. “Ryoken is my best friend. I would do anything for him.” he was fierce. He meant it.

   “I will not have my son do foolish things. I don’t even consider the Treasure Hunt of much significance, its cultural importance unfounded.” Ryoken’s Father said.

   “I, um, want to collect all eight Gym Badges,” Ryoken piped up shyly, “and become a Trainer of your calibre.”

   “And what else?” his Father asked. “You must exceed me and your son will one day have to exceed you so give him big shoes to fill, or you fail all of us.”

   Ryoken simpered. He didn’t have a reply. He was thirteen! He didn’t even know if he wanted kids and the idea of them, well, for some reason he glanced at Spectre and that confirmed some vague hunch he had. It didn’t matter.

   “Go forth. I won’t keep you any longer and you. Boy.” his Father refused to acknowledge Spectre by his chosen name, I don’t want you leading my son astray.”

   “I won’t, sir.” Spectre murmured.

   His lack of proper enunciation wasn’t like him but Ryoken’s Father didn’t know that. Instead, he found it insulting and it got under his skin.

   Ryoken bowed - deeply, hands in front of him - and excused himself. He had to tap Spectre’s shoulder to get him to do the same and together, they both skulked off. Spectre was fuming but Ryoken had his tail between his legs. It was with shoulders up and heads hunched down as they less than triumphantly took their first steps into the Treasure Hunt.

   “I don’t like your dad.” Spectre announced when they were well out of earshot.

   They were on the outside of town now, on the route to Cortonda in the second area of the Southern Province. 

   “He’s just… stuffy.” Ryoken said.

   “But he makes me want to get stronger…” Spectre miserably said. “And I think I know how I want to start. I - I think its time to evolve Phantump.”

   Ryoken was surprised to hear but it was good to know there was some throb of rivalry deep within their friendship. It was one thing to get along smoothly but they weren’t going to become cream of the crop Trainers that.

   Spectre turned to face Ryoken, the sunset behind haloed him, as he extended his hand, PokeBall in the palm of it, “Will you help me? Phantump evolves by trade after all. A-And don’t worry,” Spectre added, nervous and sweaty on his brow, “Phantump and I were talking about this yesterday, in the dorms. He thinks it's time, too.”

   “I’d love to help.” Ryoken replied.

   And so, they did a little swap. Ryoken borrowed Phantump and Spectre borrowed Drakloak. The exchange, although brief, turned Phantump into Trevenant on the side of the road and with an evolution of their main partner Pokemon each under their belts, it felt like something changed, too. It wasn’t just evolution, it was a fresh start.

   Together, over the course of the next year, Ryoken fulfilled his goals and Spectre did his best to keep pace, also, and all whilst filling up his sketchbooks. The Treasure Hunt brought them closer together than ever before. Travelling together had its ups and downs, of course. Sometimes they argued but they always made up afterwards, either duking it out with a Pokemon battle or one of them deciding it was time to call it quits so they could share food or other resources. Most of the time, it was like a never-ending sleepover by night and a never-ending field trip by day. It was great.

   And, best of all, they both have eight badges each to show for it.

   Ryoken breezed through the Gyms, collecting Dragon types in his wake to help out and Spectre did much the same, alternating between his two favourite types of Grass and Ghost but not shying away from Ground or Rock types, either. Ryoken had a couple of Psychic types and Steel types, also. It wasn’t a varied team but they were a big family in some ways.

   One Ryoken couldn’t wait to introduce to his Father. 

   He thought about all the cool and tough Pokemon that his Father had his beck and call. A mighty Dragonite, a ferocious Garchomp, and the viscous Braxcalliber. They were amazing, he recalled them all fondly and he thought the members of the species he could call his teammates could easily go toe to toe with his Father’s.

   But apparently not.

   It was… humbling, to say the least. Especially on the eve of Ryoken trying for championship. He wanted his Father’s approval first, Spectre watched from the wings, unsure of his place in the den of the Dragon Types that Ryoken had taken him “home” too. It wasn’t like any home he knew and he was ostracised his own orphanage but the forest clearing that he and Trevenant (previously Phantump) had enjoyed. It was the clear standard being warm and fun and loving.

   “The Gym Leaders are pushovers and your friend… He makes you soft.” Ryoken’s Father decided after the battle. “Keep training. Keep pushing yourself or else.”

   Ryoken felt humiliated outside in the arena of the Dragon Types, his childhood house looming behind it and a grand forest all around. He felt small in the scheme of it all. His six Pokemon all fainted. He was…

   He was never going to be good enough, Ryoken realised as he fought back tears. He had lost Pokemon battles before, half of them to Spectre, but this was way, way different. It tore him up inside and broke his heart.

   “Stop crying.” his Father scolded him and locked him out.

   The door to the mansion slammed shut.

   Spectre rushed to his side and he took Ryoken’s hand to comfort him.

   “I know i’m not an expert but… I don’t think that’s normal.” Spectre mumbled.

   “Me neither…” Ryoken replied.

   “Do you still want to challenge the Elite Four tomorrow?” Spectre asked.

   “I… I do.” Ryoken decided.

   “I’m glad.” Ryoken said.

   Spectre led him away from the Dragon Tamer’s headquarters. It wasn’t Ryoken’s house anymore and it certainly wasn’t his home, either. They camped in the outer ring of the mountains, making their way back to the Pokemon League.

   Though Ryoken didn’t spend a lot of time there either.

   He lost again but it was a cathartic loss. He’d actually made it all the way until he reached the Champion’s offer but the Champion. Wow. That was something else. He and his team were smashed but the end of it, Ryoken was smiling. He felt stronger for trying. Not weaker. Completely unlike the despair his Father induced in him upon his loss to him. 

   The Champion, afterwards, asked him something, “What did you get out of the Treasure Hunt?”

   Ryoken didn’t have a response. The treasure he had been chasing throughout the past year, it was more like trash to him now. He had wanted to be like his father, strong like him, meeting his expectations and exceeding them. Now he didn’t know what he wanted.

   He relayed the same thing to Spectre over dinner. But when he did, Ryoken had an epiphany. The starlight which shone over head of them was gentle and coaxed out secrets in the cool breeze/

   “Spectre,” Ryoken said, getting excited, “I’ve changed my mind. I think I know what my treasure is.”

   “Really? What do you think it is?” Spectre asked, matching Ryoken’s energy was warm and crackling. He looked up over the bowl of curry that he had made for himself and Ryoken.

   “My treasure is freedom and my treasure is… you.” Ryoken said. “I don’t want our adventure to ever end. I want to become a rockstar. What about you? What’s your treasure?”

   His heart skipped a beat. Spectre had always known what he wanted but he wanted to hear it again. Especially or just in case it had changed and Ryoken did have one singular tiny hope for how it might have changed.

   They both put away their meal. For now at least. Their Pokemon - Dragapualt and Trevenant - looked up curiously. They wanted to know as well, so they could best support their respective masters…

   “I want to become a successful artist.” Spectre said.

   “And I want to see you become a successful artist, too.” Ryoken said.

   “But I want to see you become a successful musician, too. I want our future to be our treasure, too.” Spectre said.

   Ryoken smiled. He was over the moon. That’s exactly what he wanted, too. The implication that their feelings were the same entwined them and thus, their hands naturally locked together with a hold. It was rock-solid and firm, fingers interlocked, palm to palm. Ryoken swallowed. He felt… bad but like good bad about turning his back on his Father and his family legacy but having seen how untethered Spectre was by how other people saw him, it inspired him. It would continue to inspire him.

   So Ryoken hoped that together, they would be happy. The open road, endless Pokemon battles, songs sung and drawings scribbled out, that was going to be their treasure, for sure and Ryoken hoped that it would be for a long, long time. 

#The Treasure Hunt and the Freedom to Pursue Our Treasures #respectfulshippingweek2024 #yugioh vrains #vrains #yugioh #spectre (vrains) #ryoken kogami #pokemon #writing tag

[b-is-in-the-closet]

I DID IT AGAIN

Really? Mack? A diary?

As annoying as everyone said he was, every now and then the crew would run into a task that required Mack’s assistance. This was one of those tasks.

You, being captain, headed to his room to find him. He wasn’t there. You were about to leave and search elsewhere before a shine caught your eye. You directed your attention to the distracting object. It was a diary.

“Really? Mack? A diary?” You let out a small chuckle, finding it amusing for him to have a diary. “…well, I can’t just waste this sort of opportunity!” You took the diary and opened it up to the first page.

MY BOOK, BITCH. DO NOT TOUCH.

If lost, return to Mack, the better head engineer.

Well that’s subtle. It does match his personality, though. You flipped a few pages in, finding an entry from a few months ago. He even seemed to have it categorized. Upon closer inspection, you found that you seem to have your own category.

6-15-22 The Captain

The Captain gave me their pen today. It was …nice. Not that I care. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. They must have done something to it.

It was small, but it was something. Maybe even cute. You continued to flip through the book and soon found another entry for you.

6-21-22 The Captain

THE CAPTAIN GAVE ME A HUG TODAY

That was all you could make out, as his writing was sloppy. You could tell he was writing fast. It looked like he tried to keep going, but it just ended up into a giant scribble taking up the last half of the page. There were similar smaller issues about you, but one seemed to take up the whole page while still being readable.

7-19-22 The Captain

Shit shit shit shit

I think I accidentally caught feelings for the Captain. Oh no. This is bad. I’m panicking. What am I supposed to do? They probably hate me. I wish I could hold them close and tell them how much I love them. But that would be a horrible idea. For many reasons. I now need to do the logical thing and shove any feelings for them far away into the recesses of my mind. Wish me luck.

…well that was something. You were going to look for more entries when you heard the sound of the door handle jiggle, making you panic and slam the book down. You turned around to a confused Mack stepping into the room.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?”

“This is my room.”

“Well, I really must go, I have… captain things to attend to-“ You began to slowly make your way over to the door, getting caught.

He firmly gripped your arm as you turned to leave, stopping you from going anywhere.

“Don’t.”

You yoinked your arm away from him. “Fine, I won't leave.”

“Care to explain what’s going on, then?”

“Care to explain why you wrote about me in your diary?” His face flushed at your question. You noticed a certain panic rise to his eyes.

“Y-you- Wh- noooo, that- let me raise you this: why were you reading my diary?”

“It was already open when I got in here.” It wasn’t. He raised an eyebrow at you. “Fine, I was looking for you, and was going to leave, but then your diary was shiny, and I got distracted.”

“Of course. What did you, um. What did you see?”

“Nothing too bad… mostly just things about myself.”

“…oh. Well goodbye, Captain, I think I need to leave now and-“ He turns to leave but you grab his hand as he does so. His face is red with embarrassment. “…just don’t make a big deal about it, okay? I’m working on it.”

“You don’t seem to be working very hard on letting me know you have a crush.”

“Because that’s bad! You must hate me right now…”

“Don’t worry, this… actually makes me very happy.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“It means I feel the same way, idiot.” You patted his head as you spoke, a smile on your face. A smile grew on his face, too. This may have been the best invasion of privacy ever.

#iswm mack #iswm mack x reader #in space with markiplier #iswm fanfiction #iswm x reader

[sleepydross]

If you would write a pulp fiction mystery, or something similar, what would the opener be? Who gets merced? How does the victim die? What would be the perfect opener in your specific eyes?

this if itll finally let me post it Normally, the streets would've been dark, too dark to see without the streetlights - but those were out, too. All kinds of things were going to Hell, and fast. There was one thing Walter knew, however…

It was the same thing everyone else knew, too.

So he took a sip of his scotch and stopped looking out the window, and listened to the dame on the stage - she was something else entirely, tall, gorgeous, muscles tight beneath skin shiny with sweat. The humidity was bad, but the streets were flooded, the tides too wild and unpredictable.

"Have there always been three moons? Have there always been three moons?" she sang, and these questions hung in the air like streams of leaden smoke, curling and twisting and resonating too hard.

It wasn't dark out there, on account of Luna's new sisters. Their official names were 'Scarlet' and 'Roanoke' for government-code-name reasons he'd never get to understand. He liked to think of them as 'Pam' and 'Mabel,' sounded more friendly.

She sang on, about those moons and those questions. People had lots of questions, those days, and were short on answers. Life had gone and gotten hard, and everyone was flagging.

And then he sat down, right across from Walter. A server followed, setting the table with a bounty - a bottle of dark whiskey and enough sushi to put him to sleep for a week.

"What do you want?" he asked the newcomer - but he poured some whiskey on his sad, boozeless rocks and took a sip. It was high end, good shit, probably pre-lunar fracture. The newcomer was handsome, skin dark and rich, cool in tone - near blue, in the dim light of the joint.

"What don't I want, Walter?" he asked, and Walter had to stop himself from swooning - no vapors on cases, he kept his head clear. Clear enough. Acceptably clear. Alcohol was a slight issue. "Got your attention, then? Marvelous. I'll keep this brief. Luna's hurting, we can all see the red smeared across her surface - but the question we all want the answer to? Who killed her, and let her sisters and their friends in?"

"Yeah, we all want that answer, buddy, but we ain't gonna get it - some spook from whatever's left of the CIA will peep that shit long before civvies like me hear about it. So, that in mind, tell me what you want, or let me drink in peace," Walter replied, coming on strong and keeping the heat up - most people balked when they started to sweat.

"Aren't you precious? There is no CIA, Walt, not anymore - there is, however, Grimbo Shanks… a man with not inconsiderable resources and a desire to find out who killed the moon," this tall, devilishly handsome stranger said, drawing a card from the breast pocket of his immaculately tailored suit. "There is a payphone, on East Third and Birmingham, on street level - it's not flooded, not yet. Get there… and call this number if you want answers too."

With that, the stranger rose and walked briskly away. Walt tried to follow him, and lost the man almost instantly in the moving ocean of servers and sad drunks that he numbered so humbly among. Grumpy, Walter sat down, and picked up the card.

'Grimbo Shanks - The Order of Eyes.'

"…fuckin' nutter," he muttered - but before he could toss the card away, he sniffed it, finding a familiar odor touching his nose. "Impossible."

But it wasn't. A sniff again brought that gut wrenching smell right back into his nostrils, and left him aching for more. It hadn't been made, hadn't been available, since before the Fracture… and he'd, once upon a time, known the man who wore that cologne and complained like Hell when they discontinued it, even if it was awful and a bit too woody.

"Can't be," he said. He hadn't gone by Grimbo Shanks, back then… but it wasn't a far cry to imagine that theatrical prick taking up a new name in a new world.

Grunting, he got up, slumping towards the door, intent on seeing if there were any Gossha around the lower levels who wanted to drink some blood - if he was going to get to a phone before high tide hit, he was going to need to sober up.

#mystery #fiction #writing #fantasy #creative writing

[whumpshaped]

@the-whumpers-soiree but it is i who goes

trigger warnings: first person whumpee pov, nonhuman whump, conditioning, mind control, dehumanisation, manipulation, alcohol mention, drugs mention, kidnapping, blood, intimate whumper

I was clutching the fancy invite letter in my hand like a lifeline as we walked up to the building. This was way too expensive. Way too luxurious. Why would I even get invited? And that was to say nothing of the clothes my friend picked up for me on our shopping trip.

The clothes weren't bad, of course. My friend had amazing taste. The issue was… the amount of skin I was showing. She insisted I go into this party being bold, and acted accordingly. A top with spaghetti straps, leaving my collarbones and entire arms exposed. A skirt with a slit so high and so gathered that I showed the entire length of my leg whenever I took a step. It felt… well, like a bold move. 

"We're gonna have fun!" she assured me again as we handed our invites to the person standing by the door in exchange for a pair of blue bracelets. "Trust me. All that food and dancing… Loosen up a little!"

"O-Of course. Fun!" 

Fun…

My friend disappeared into the crowd not long after that exchange, and I found myself quite alone by the tables with a dozen different drinks on them. Big bowls of vibrant liquid, all free, all… too exposed, just as me. I couldn't help thinking about the possibility of anyone being able to spike them so easily. The food as well, it was all just… there. And it looked great, but what was the guarantee-

"Hey." My head snapped towards the voice, interrupting my paranoid spiraling. "Alone?" 

"No, I-" I looked around, trying to find my friend in the crowd - to no avail. "Well, I guess I am. But I wasn't when I came here."

"No point dwelling on the past." They grinned at me, charming and easy. Were those fangs? "Can I get you a drink, now that we're both just standing by the table?" 

"Not drinking."

"Then maybe a-"

"Not eating."

The stranger chuckled. "Nervous about something?"

I looked away from them, fidgeting with my bracelet. Come to think of it, I only saw blue bracelets when we came in, yet the person in front of me had a red one. "I'm a little nervous, I guess. Not a party person. But hey, where do they give out the red ones?"

"Oh, the bracelets?" They lifted their hand, glancing down at the shiny accessory as if it was the first time they saw it. "At the door, I mean… you can't really miss it."

"There were only blue ones by the door… They must've run out. We didn't even come that late…" 

"We can switch," they offered with the same, alluring smile, taking off their bracelet without waiting for a response. 

"Really?" I hastily took off my own, handing it to them and taking the red one. I slipped it onto my wrist, turning it this way and that, enjoying the hue. "Thanks, that's… that's nice of you."

"What can I say? I'm nice like that." They moved closer, making me instinctively back up against the table.

"H-Hey-"

"Sorry," they stepped away again, this time with a glass in hand. Oh. "You were kind of standing right in front of it, so-"

"Should've told me to move. Sorry." I stepped aside, feeling a little embarrassed.

"Wouldn't dare order a pretty little thing like you around." Before I could fully process the words, they continued on. "Are you sure you don't drink? I won't force it, but I'll have you know, this pink stuff is delicious. Barely has any alcohol as far as I can tell." 

"It looks sweet."

They looked like they wanted to say something, but caught themself in the last moment. "It is," they said instead.

"I don't drink sweet stuff. And I gave up on the strong ones a while ago." 

"Didn't peg you as the type… Huh." They got themself a glass full of 'the pink stuff', turning back to me as they took a sip. "Wanna at least sit down and chat?"

"Yeah!" Wow, that came out really enthusiastic. "I mean, at least then I won't be in anyone else's way."

"Oh come on, people would kill to have a lovely little human like you in their way." Human? I mean, I guess, but what a choice of words.

"I'd hate to be the reason someone gets killed. Maybe I should just stay here, then, give everyone an opportunity to be inconvenienced by me, free of charge."

"Or you should come with me and watch the brawl that breaks out over the fact that I've got myself your undivided attention."

I wanted to roll my eyes at that one, but some unseen force kept me from doing it. "I feel like you practiced these in front of the bathroom mirror." 

"Should I practice more?"

"No," I heard my own voice, though quite the opposite of what I meant to say. "You're quite good." What?

The stranger smirked, and I felt my stomach drop. Something wasn't right. "Why, thank you. Will you grace me with your company, then?"

"Gladly." Gladly? No, with this anxiety now nestled inside me, I wanted nothing more than to stay where I was.

And yet, despite that very clear wish in mind, I blinked, and I was suddenly at a table with that same guy, a glass in front of me. I told them I didn't drink. Or maybe I forgot? No, I would've declined if they offered. 

I blinked again, and I was dancing. Their arms were around my waist. I hated dancing, despised when people held me like that, but for some odd reason, this time it felt nice.

I blinked a third time, and I didn't recognise the surrounding area anymore. Someone was pressed up against me, their face buried in the crook of my neck. Their hair tickled. 

They pulled away not long after I came to, their lips covered in red. Was that blood? Was that my blood? I couldn't ask. My mouth felt numb. My entire body did.

"You look precious," they murmured, tucking a strand of loose hair behind my ear. "You don't even know where you are, do you? My… Maybe you were worried about all the wrong things. Vampires don't need to spike your drink to make you a little dazed, hm?"

I found myself leaning towards them, following them when they stepped away, like a little duckling. I clung to their expensive clothes, my weak body just barely supporting my weight.

"Cute," I heard them say. "What a good little bloodbag I've got myself…"

#the bad scribbles #the-whumpers-soiree #nonhuman whump #conditioning #dehumanisation #mind control #manipulation #alcohol mention #drugs mention #kidnapping #blood #intimate whumper

[galaxydad]

My thoughts while watching the finale:

Fuck it up lateef

Baby Yoda????? I thought he couldn’t get through the doors

Baaah so cute

The Return…lame title but that appears to be a running theme now. I guessed the ‘R’ theme. (Also we now have ‘The Return of the Mandalorian’ and ‘The Return?’)

He’s a tiny green dot that’s so funny, why did they colour coordinate it

Mando and BY solo mission? What is this, season 2? (I am thrilled)

Why does he fly like that

This is so dumb. I am thoroughly enjoying myself so far

IG does not sound very stealthy

Axe? At the very least I love this man’s voice

YOU DON’T HAVE ANY WEAPONS???? I totally forgot about that

God I miss the beskar spear

We sold those batons at galaxy’s edge

That little droid is such a tatle tale

What are those. Are they Snokes? LMAO no never mind. Ew. Why’d he say that so casually though? Did he know Gideon had clones of himself or did I completely miss that?

Baby trauma

Oo a pretty green location. How I’ve missed those

Armourer, sorry I ever doubted you

Armourer with a jet pack

I still really hate that Bo has the darksaber lmao. But it’s fine

That trooper jet pack is so ugly

Gideon is pro life

Oooooo shiny red

Angry baby

God IG can’t catch a break

Run tiny

Grogu could definitely Force his way out of this but it’s chill

Is this their first time fighting with each other?

Mando putting his hand up the same time BY did to use the Force made me really afraid they were gonna make Mando Force Sensitivefor a second

Is she gonna lose it AGAIN

OH MY GOD BO ARE YOU KIDDING

Also RIP IG11 again, I forgot to mention

No body no crime. Idk if getting engulfed in flames counts but

Why is there still 10 minutes

Baby’s first baptism

FINALLY MANDO IS DAD YEET YEET

POP THE CHAMPANGE

SON

‘DIN’ IS THE SURNAME?????

Grogu saying hi to the mythosaur way down below

Where we goin

Are we getting more bounty hunting stories??? Actually??? Back to small scale?? Don’t tease me

A cabin?? Bounty hunting??? Finally adopted??? IG-11 back??? Why was this final 10 minute catered exactly to me

The show could end tbh I’d be fine with it

The concept art in the credits makes it look like he’s sitting on a lawn chair which I find incredibly funny

—————

Overall I agree the season felt super messy at points, and I think there was a focus and tone issue. But I went into this season waaaaay more lax compared to S2. If I didn’t like things, it became something to joke about with my friends instead of becoming genuinely heated over it. It had dumb moments, but it had moments I liked too. Far from perfect, but enjoyable enough.

#the mandalorian spoilers #I didn’t stay to after the credits though so I’ll have to check for my bad times bingo: was there a promo for another show at the end?

[notdrifting]

kiri undercover mission | cont. from here | @tiantii​

          the hardest part was over – jiraiya thought with a relieved sigh – getting inside the bloody mist was hard enough as it was, foreigners weren’t exactly welcomed there even if allegedly from a royal clan. the village watch wasn’t even trying to hide themselves – anyone could see various shinobi around the village, in the midst of the crowded streets, just…watching…much like hawks.

          he doubted the petty crime rate in kiri was high, for some unearthly reason jiraiya just felt like killing a peer was no issue for these shinobi.

          his smile falters ever so slightly, but ( hopefully ) before orochimaru can see it, jiraiya leads them to the shops in an excited fashion. a natural big spender, perhaps due to poverty as a child, jiraiya genuinely took great pleasure in spending money and buying beautiful shiny things, so it comes as no surprise when he finds himself with a ridiculous amount of bags full of trinkets they’ve bought.

          making it his mission to let orochimaru at ease, jiraiya tried his best to brighten up the mood and, soon enough, he even sort of looked genuinely having fun – careless to the point of asking information to one of the guards in an obnoxious  and distracted way, as if he forgot this was a mission and they were not, in fact, married and in a honeymoon trip.

          he hadn’t forgotten – but in order to fly under the radar, they needed to be seen and known. nobody suspects very public figures, not at first. building their newfound fame wasn’t as hard as he thought it would be – tipping ridiculously large amounts of money gave them the status of good, welcomed, clients, and such gossip spread fast like wildfire.

          he was checking one of their many bags when he felt orochimaru tense up slightly and watched him from the corner of his eye before resuming what he had been doing and leaning closer to hear his ‘wife’.

          ‘ yes, my love ? ’  he arched an eyebrow, curious. terms of endearment came easily to him, even if he did feel slight anxious to use them with orochimaru who – as far as jiraiya knew – had no habit of such. the sage focused on their surroundings, trying to pinpoint what had made ororchimaru stop, till he felt a strong chakra signature that made the hairs behind his neck fly up. ‘ ah, yes – of course ! let’s see what they have ! with some luck we’ll find something for the festival…’

          the kanamara matsuri – one of the few festivals celebrated in the hidden mist – was some sort of fertility festival that was celebrated every year. it was said to hold dances and good food, as well as collective prayers for couples to conceive children and have harmonious families but jiraiya knew that this was only what a vacation folder would say. in reality, it was a festival mainly rooted in the red light district where people in power indulged themselves in pleasures, food and alcohol perhaps too much.

          he figured it would be good to meet their target, the water daimyo’s cousin, there – by accident and in an informal setting, to form some sort of friendship with him so they could keep an eye on him and get the information they needed.

          entering the shop, jiraiya could feel that the figure that was already there had a concerning level of chakra and instinctively placed himself in front of orochimaru, giving him a side glance and a smile.

          ‘ it’s alright, dear. i’ll see what they have, let me know if you like anything…’ he smiled before heading towards the owner of the shop.

          there was no earthly way that that individual was the owner. it was a tall man, taller than jiraiya ( surprisingly enough ), bulky and visibly scarred. he was older, graying hair and beard hiding some of his scars. to anyone unaware, he’d probably looking like a friendly old shop keeper, however jiraiya knew better than to let his guard down, considering how alert and fast the old man moved. a retired shinobi ?

          ‘ hello there ! i am kiyomizu namihei and this is my lovely wife nian zhen – we are here on our honeymoon for the fertility festival...’    he started with a tone that was a close copy to the austere and royal like tone tobirama senju had carried while alive. a voice of someone who was used to command and was above others. it felt uncomfortable, but jiraiya had spent enough time in his youth with clan leaders to know better than to falter.  ‘ your shop has called the attention of my lady wife, i do hope you can provide us some kimonos to match her beauty…well – both of us, really. i too could also use new clothes. ’  he finished motioning to his dark moss yukata and grey haori.

          ‘ what colours and patterns do you have in mind, wife of mine ? ’   jiraiya asked, looking back at orochimaru to pinpoint if he was alright. had he met the shop keeper before? there was something odd about this…

#KIRI MISSION 「tiantii」 #tiantii #JIRAIYA 「interactions」 #( ngl took me a while to find it - i still cant belive i deleted my old blog ugh i hate my past self )

[fukingsad]

Here you go :D

It’s the first draft and I haven’t reread this in like two months so whoops if there typos or something. Excuse any format issues cause I did just copy paste this over from my Google drive as well.

Prologue

A little secret, a little lie

I’m trapped. Trapped and all alone. Ice glistens everywhere. Catching the light deftly and shooting it back. Reflecting and refracting like gemstones. Gemstones now spattered with red. I am all alone. Save the slithering beasts that surround my cold hiding place. Everyone I had ever loved or hated or somewhere in between. All gone. In a flash of pale white skin, and massive fangs. Sharply pointed pupils. Barely even slits in their eyes. How do they even see out of them? How are they able to see their chaos?

Maybe that's why their massive eyes have such tiny pupils. So they don't have to see what they do. What they cause. The pain they create, and the happiness they destroy. Like bone white grim reapers with massiv pink forked tongues. Eyes the size of my head. Eyes that will never leave my head. The snow and ice are slick with blood. Though it is not my own, it stings all the same. I know who it belongs to. I wince looking at the tents crushed under the sheer mass of the monsters. Their massive winding bodies, moving through and checking for any sign of movement, leaving their imprints in the snow and surrounding me. I’m forced to look at it. Look at everything. Look at what I caused.

I should never have lied.

I should never have kept that secret.

I should never have left the tents.

Silent tears slip down my face, out of my eyes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I repeat over and over and over and over and over and over again in my head. This is my fault. This is entirely my fault.

I remember. I sit and remember what I have done. The flashback so strong I almost cry. I had found an egg a few weeks ago, It was white with tiny dots of pale blue. Shiny and specked. I had crept up towards it carefully after seeing it. My curiosity had always gotten the better of me, and easily. I crouched down next to the little spherish egg, and ran a hand along it. Feeling the little ridges that spiderwebbed through the egg like veins. I could feel my eyes widening on their own just looking at it. Something had possessed me to want to keep the egg. It came up to about my knee, so picking it up was difficult. But I didn’t want to accidentally break it. Even though I knew that was almost impossible. This was a snake egg. Their shells were infamously difficult to break through. I still wanted to be cautious though, So I took off my outer layer of my coat and made a sort of sling out of it. I placed the egg into it and immediately it dragged my neck down. It was surprisingly heavier than I thought it would be.

I took it back to camp that same day, then buried it in the snow drift outside my tent. From everything my Dad had observed about the snakes, he knew their eggs did better when buried in a little bit of snow. Not too deep though, so the hatchling could get out.

My Dad had been studying the snakes for years, he knew more about them than anyone else on this earth as far as I was concerned. He said he did it so we could be safer. But I understood that curiosity in his eyes was the same as the one that ran wildly through me. He just wanted to learn, he was ravenous for knowledge. For discovery. For a chance that maybe we could learn how to coexist with the snakes without worrying about death looming over us every day.

Aftter I had buried the egg in what I thought was a good amount of snow, I decided I would try to hatch it. Maybe if I were to give my dad a freshly hatched snake he would finally start telling me everything he knew. He’d start letting me go scouting with him. He’d let me be like him. That was all I really wanted. I just wanted him to teach me, and mold me into his image.

Yet he refused me every time I asked. What I wanted so desperately he wouldn’t provide. But this, my plan would finally convince him. We had only set up camp here a few days ago, and everyone was still settling in. We would probably stay here for a month. That should be enough time to hatch the egg and give it to my dad. If he found it before that though… I don’t know how he’d react. If I can prove that I can handle a snake, maybe I’ll be able to avoid his scorn. Maybe I’ll finally be the son he wants.

So I left my egg buried in the snow, my little secret buried in the ice. My little lies spilling from my lips to keep it hidden there. I’d dig it out to check on it every now and then, cracks had started to form yesterday. I had left camp this morning, very early, the sun was still invisible. We were luckily still left with decently long days and nights,

Then a rumbling noise the snakes make in the back of their throat rips through the air. Heavy, abrasive, and low. Punching me in the chest and shaking my lungs. I have to close my eyes and cover my ears to try and focus on not screaming. If they hear me I’m as done for as…

Upon closing my eyes the only things I knew were the darkness my lids created when I slid them over my eyes, the cold biting me harshly despite the snow mask, coat, and thick pants I was wearing, and the overbearing smell of blood. It was all I could smell. I felt the nausea, that had already been very present upon seeing the destruction, beginning to take a physical form.

The terrible rumbling never stopped completely. Though I knew that the murderous monsters were gone now. I couldn’t hear the wood of the tents splintering apart, the fabric ripping or the horrible crunch of their bodies crushing through a body as they slithered over it. There had been so many of them. At least 5. Knowing they had gone now for sure, as the rumble was no longer shaking the ground beneath me with its strength, I opened my eyes uncovered my ears, and screamed.

I screamed until I threw up. I tried my best not to look around at what remained of my home. But I couldn’t help it. By some divine act, I had remained safe, hiding in a little hole in a snow drift. We had dug it out a few nights before to store fish in. It was barely big enough to fit myself in, and barely far enough away from camp to be safe. Looking ahead of me I saw pieces of downy birch stuck straight up into the sky.

I remember when I helped my dad cut those trees down. I was very little then, barely able to hold the axe up. Now the wood was smeared in blood in places. The once beautifully woven gray and light blue fabric was torn, pierced through with the wood that used to support it in some places, and stained. Stained with the blood that also littered the snow. I shuffled gingerly out of my hiding place. I had a clear view of everything from there.

Finally standing out in the waning sunlight I take uneasy steps towards the wreckage. My vision blurred with tears, and my feet had trouble staying atop the slippery icy spots in the snow. I staggered forward, to the tent I knew my mother and father slept in. They would have been sleeping still when the snakes showed up. I gently lifted one of the torn flaps up to peer into the tent. I closed my eyes and took a moment to prepare myself. Maybe they had gotten out. Maybe I hadn’t lost them.

All of the hopes I was thinking of were dashed immediately when I opened my eyes. I felt the vomit rising again as I fell backward, I landed on my back and shuffled away as fast as I could. Holding a hand to my mouth I curled into a small ball and rocked back and forth slightly. Trying to calm myself down a bit. They were gone. There was no doubt now. Everyone was gone. I cried more, retching occasionally between sobs. Nothing was left of anyone. Nothing.

It was dark out by the time I had pulled myself together enough to think straight. Even then I only had one thought.

Run.

Run away as fast and as far as you can go.

Run to where you can try and forget what you did.

Run to where no one will know and no one will blame you.

So I did, I stood up shakily, and I bolted. I ran in the direction of that odd gray dome I had seen so many times before. No one would ever tell me what it was. All I knew was that it was as foreign as I could get from my… deceased group. The whole way the loop of sorry’s replayed with the image of what little was left of everyone. The haunting shape of the crushed tents burned into my head. Like tombstones for the people who were decimated by the invading animals.

My fault. All my fault. I lost everything and it's all my fault. I kept running and running. Maybe I could outrun what I caused. It was almost dawn again now, the snow behind me reflecting back the bright oranges and reds. Red. I would never see red the same again. The dome rising in front of me cast the largest shadow I had ever seen, and I was in it now. I had never been close enough to be in its shadow. Now I was closer I could see it wasn't really a true dome at all. It was a steep wall with a curved top. They were pale pale gray. I could see odd little white rectangles with black circles now that seemed to watch me. They whirred and turned to look at me, a tiny light blinking on them.

I had been paying so much attention to the odd things in front of I had not looked at the ground beneath me during my sprint. I had quickly noticed that the ground was no longer beneath me, but by then it was too late. My head slammed hard into the slippery rocky outcrop, and I was met abruptly with darkness.

Whistle Istg IF YOU DONT FINISH THIS I WILL CRY

[burgertaco6]

back at it again in baldurs gate making it to the goblin shithole once religous hangout spot, i get a bit of closure on wether or not mindflayers have beaks (they dont) and save that scholar twink (no i did not have my eye plucked out)

hehehehehe funny hat :)

i gaslight the spiders into helping me along the way

after some more blind stumbling and the free of some prisoner guy being tortured later, i find druid boss, who is not too happy to have been replaced by kagha AND caught lacking by some goblins

during the breakout one of the goblin leaders just kind of got stuck in one spot with some other goblin and didnt move until the very last moments, only to get shoved in the spider pit and eaten alive whilst being shot at by everyone

i get weirdly kinky with this torturer guy, and afterwards brutally slaughter their buff red leader, stealing his limited edition spongebob gangsterpants merch collection

had PLENTY of shinies for my wonderful heat seeking missile man to absorb for his crack- i mean, magic addiction

my sarcasm about having the flu goes right over toad ladies head, leading me safely into the land of dreams where i learn what the make a guardian section meant and i forgot how GODDAMN UGLY I MADE HIM 😭look bear with me PLEASE there werent any dragonborn options for the guardian, if there were i woulda picked it in a heartbeat (coolass shot of dream worlds badass skeletor cave)

solve the easiest puzzle ever and baddabing badaboom im in the underdark, next thing i know rapheal pulls up offering to take the worm in my brain away which i say no to, let lae'zel cook smh

ngl was kind of sad there wasnt any flirting to do with THE sassy devil man directly calling me up on my brain phone with a spamton business offer

blocking his number, i obtain SHINY EXPENSIVE OBJECT!!!!! (almost got eaten by a very large ground worm thing along the way)

got to the village where i gladly accept to hunt down the mf who poisoned one of my fellow forest friends (dark gnome lady), spoke to the village leader guy he's pretty cool :)

and i meet one of my new FAVORITE CHARACTERS LIKE HOLY MOLY!!!!! OMMGGGGG big mushroom man.,.,.,. he looks so full of dirt and nutrients, if i prone someone they are just gonna be dead because he punches them to death VERY quickly

LOOK AT HIM!!! my boy 🥺✨ my man my THING, dweller of the dark, needs revenge. i will cry if he dies along the way in my journey for his vengeance thats all i've done so far, i'll supply more yummy insight on my playthrough as it goes, having some issues with crashing but i'll make it through a few underdark missions before returning to the druid grove, im sure they'll be fine up there seeing how all the goblins are drunk and their leaders are rotting on the ground <3

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #spoilers duh #big mushroom man i wanna kiss 'em on his weird face in a mutual appreciative way <3 #get me a shovel cause by damn im headin down with the dwarves ROCK AND STONE!!!!

[ombrellica]

Hello! I've had an exciting month. A lot of good things happened to me. For finishing the set of drawings in the last post I treated myself to a pink dsi xl. This colour was never sold in my country so I took a risk and ordered one from overseas. In my memory the dsi xl was the best way to experience ds games. I kind of wish I was able to keep the one I had when I was younger, but that is life. I really love the colour of this dsi xl so maybe it was for the best. I was also pleasantly surprised to see the zelda game in the list of dsi ware redownloads. It's a little shame that this was in fact the only game downloaded onto the ds during the lifetime of the dsi shop. But hey if you only get one game to choose from, zelda is many people's top picks! I may soft mod the console in future to get my hands on nostalgic dsi ware games. I've had a huge blast playing Pokemon Heartgold. I caught a shiny metapod:

It's name is Red Moon! Also this month has been a very big month for me with gacha. I've been saving on and off over the last six months for these banners.

First up is Tears of Themis.

I got the anniversary Atrem! I am currently working to get Vyn too. We're on hard pity. Aw. I am waiting for the sharing returner code to refresh so I can save 180 s chips. At this point I might as well hey? I was also lucky enough to win a copy of the thank you letter from the twitter raffle. It hasn't arrived yet, but I am watching that letter box closely.

In a surprising turn of events, Oberon dropped on Fate Grand Order on the same day as ToT anniversary!

People were debating online when this servant would be available. Many people thought the banner would start a week after the release of the story. As you can see I earned this servant for free. While not always diligently, I have been working towards saving for this character since January.

I've never announced it on tumblr before but I am actually quitting this game. Now that I am becoming serious about my art stuff I don't really have the time for a game that requires a looooot of commitment and investment. Also the magic is pretty much over for me with this game. Since last year, I've been skipping a lot of dialogue and doing the bare minimum. I think the last time I enjoyed a fgo event story was the summer camp one. That was so mysterious and filled with thrills! I was one of the players who thought my game was playing up because of the gender swap shenanigans. I think fondly of that memory.

I've been looking forward to Oberon ever since I first heard about him years ago from the jp fans. Np 3 is really a nice way wrap it all up. I sort of want to get revenge on the Douman banner from last year. As far as activities are concerned that's over, but I may for a time passively collect login bonuses. But honestly if I stop feeling like doing that halfway, no hard feelings.

Finally we have Genshin!

Wanderer was guaranteed so the more exciting thing here is the r2 weapon! I wasn't sure if I'd get the weapon at all so I didn't prep for it to avoid disappointment. I'll get onto leveling it up soon! The other exciting news is this patch was truly made to celebrate Kaeya! Not just the costume: I also got my final constellation for him as well as a weapon!

I am so happy with how July unfolded. I ended up taking a break from art to emotionally process a recently resolved issue from my past. How do I say this... It's finally over now but it had affected the way I lived my life for a decade. I am going to live more peacefully for now on. Be less afraid and be apologetically like myself. That kind of thing.

To finish things off today, here's a picture of a little dog that passed away nearly a year ago. I still think about him. Stay safe stay well.

[darthnil]

Blue or Orange

Fives and Tup are aided by a clone with issues (Short from my AO3!)

“We have to find the bad colour.” Brother said in his squishy brain holes, brother had good voice, kind and safe, 9999 liked the kind voice.

“Bad colour… bad colour…” He repeated as he moved through the halls that were empty of colours, “Find bad colour… why find bad colour?”

“A brother is in danger, we have to find his colour before bad things happen, he’s with bad colour.” Brother replied, “Remember what 99 told us?”

“Help each other… be brothers…” 9999 nodded as he moved.

“Exactly, we have to make sure the Mistress doesn’t find us either but if we help the brother then we can get him to safety, understand?” Brother continued and he nodded again, brother was so smart, “Okay, he’s behind this door…”

“Door open… how to make open?” 9999 asked as he looked at the rolling colours.

“See that weird panel thing?” He nodded, “Press the big shiny thing… yes, right there.”

The door slid open and he entered into the room, looking for the colour of brother in danger, “Who are you?” He looked to the form that appeared.

“Orange colour… happy colour…” He said, “Brother… friend… help maybe?”

“What…?” The person appeared in front of him, “Do you need help?”

“Help brother… come.” He took hold of the man’s arm, “Safety nearby.”

“I don’t know you, why would I follow you?” The man stood firm, “I have to help Tup.”

“Bad colour… scary colour.” He replied, he didn’t like the colour of the man in the next room but brother in danger wanted to help him, “Door open for you…”

“Okay.” The man nodded, “I’m Fives by the way, CT-5555.”

“Name of many numbers? Name of many numbers I am too.” 9999 replied with another nod, “Bestest best brother said number was… 9999.”

“Hey cool, we’re alike.” The man with the name of many numbers replied, “Can you help me?”

“Help name of many numbers.” He nodded.

“You nod a lot, surprised you haven’t got a sore neck.” The man with the name of many numbers replied chuckled weakly, “Come on.” The white halls took away the colour, he really didn’t like not having colour… it was bad… “Okay… in we go.” The man with the name of many numbers whispered and the door slid open, he followed after the man with the name of many numbers into the room but the bad colour was swirling and whirling through the air making him stop briefly, “Tup? Tup can you hear me?”

“We need to be careful, if they’re locked up then the Mistress might come back at any point.” Brother said, “She might have others with her… bad people that want to scare you.”

“Bad colour… inside… new brother not well…” 9999 said as he moved to the man with the name of many numbers.

“No… he’s not well but we can help him, I just need to find that medical droid AZI…” The man with the name of many numbers sounded scared, 9999 didn’t like being scared but the Mistress made brother scared and that made him scared too.

“You are out?” He looked to the thing floating in the air, sparkling like lights.

“Droid…” He said, “Friend?”

“He’s a friend.” The man with the name of many numbers moved to the droid and talked to it.

“Bad colour…” He looked to the brother bound to the medical bed.

“He needs help fast, don’t know how long he’ll last in this state.” Brother said, “The bad colour is moving too fast in him.”

“Bad colour… inside… making pain in squishy wrinkles.” He said with a nod.

“In his brain?” The man with the name of many numbers asked, moving to him again, “You sure?”

“Mm.” He nodded.

“We need to run a scan.” The other man said to droid friend.

“Scans on him have shown up nothing, all tests returned negative.” Droid friend replied.

“Then what would you recommend?” Brother of many numbers’ colour was different now, red…

“I recommended an atomic brain scan, but that request has thus far been denied.” Droid friend explained and he and brother of many numbers started a discussion so 9999 went to brother with bad colour, his colour was off and it swirled in a bad way.

“We need to move, quickly.” Brother said again, “He’s not going to last much longer.”

“We… need to help brother with bad colour.” He said to droid friend and brother of many numbers, “Brother says bad colour moving too fast…”

“AZI, we’re doing this scan, with or without you but he will die if you don’t help.” Brother of many numbers said firmly to droid friend, his colour was shifting to and fro, like a dance… it was pretty.

“Brother of many numbers… has pretty colour…” He said, earning a confused look from the other man.

“Uh… thanks?” Was the answer, “Can you help me set up?”

“I… can try but colour makes things… confusing.” He replied as he fidgeted with his fingers, “B… brother does things I can’t.”

“Brother? Can you contact this brother of yours?” Brother of many numbers moved to him, “We need all the help we can get.”

“I… I like blue and…” He closed his eyes.

“I like green.” 9999-1 said, looking to Fives who wore a very weird expression, “I can help you.”

“Right… okay…” Fives replied and moved to the clone called Tup, “AZI set up the scanner.”

“The scan is almost complete, everything appears to be normal… wait a second.” The droid moved away from the scanner to another machine, both he and Fives followed after him.

“What is it?” Fives asked.

“It appears this clone has developed a tumour.” AZI said looking to the two of them.

“Colour… never like this…” He said, “Clones don’t have things like that… right?”

“I have never witnessed anything like this in your kind.” AZI replied.

“Then... what is it?” Fives asked.

“I cannot be sure without a biopsy.” AZI turned to face them fully.

“You're gonna take it out of him?” Fives sounded nervous and angry.

“Won’t… won’t that kill him?” 9999-1 asked, “Shouldn’t we get… a medic? The nice ones?”

“We’re on our own, if Nala Se finds out we’re doing this… we’ll all be decommissioned.” Fives sighed angrily.

“I… I can help you get to the hanger… you can get him off world and… you can help him.” He explained, causing the other two to look at him, “I… I know we don’t look like normal clones… that our colours are wrong… but we want to help him, even if we’re not the same.”

“What’s your number?” Fives asked as he walked over to him.

“9999-1.” He nodded.

“Right, Dash One, you are a brother regardless of everything you think is different or wrong.” Fives put his hands on his shoulders, “Let’s get out of here, yeah?”

“I… we’ll make a distraction, you go when the alarms start going… okay?” He asked.

“Stay safe out there, don’t want to lose anyone because of this.” He nodded to Fives, “Meet us in the hanger, you’re coming with us.”

“Oh… I… we’ll try.” He knew he wasn’t going to make it to the hanger in time to go with them and safely depart, they would have to go without them, “But… if we don’t… don’t trust the… the Republic, their colour is… wrong.”

“I know a guy, he’ll help us.” Fives replied, “And you will make it and you will come with us, trust me okay.”

“M… mm.” He nodded, “Remember… once the alarm starts, get him to the hanger.”

“And you remember to get there.” Fives stepped back and 9999-1 made his way to the door.

“Brother likes you, says your colour is good.” He looked back at the man, “Goodbye… name of many numbers.” He knew the Mistress was close, she was going to be bearing down on Fives and Tup at any moment, he put his helmet on and ran because if he did it fast enough then they could get away and Tup would be okay.

“What are you doing CT-9999?” He had just finished his task when the Mistress appeared.

“I… I like blue…” 9999 said, confused by the button in his hand, it was a weird thing with a big red button on top.

“CT-9999 put that down, it is not a toy.” The Mistress said, cautiously moving to him.

“Pretty…” He examined the thing, “Thing?”

“It will make big sounds and lights but don’t push it till I tell you too… okay?” Brother asked him and he nodded.

“Eyes in the light… make them colourful?” He wondered if they could make colour… they never had colour and that was scary, he didn’t like that they didn’t have colour and he just wanted everyone to have colour.

“They will have colour but we have to wait until the right time to give them colour.” Brother explained and he nodded again.

“Put it down CT-9999.” The Mistress said firmly, still moving to him.

“Press it now.” Brother said, “Make colour happen.”

“Colour.” He pressed the pretty button.

“No!” The Mistress said quickly before loud noises appeared and the colour went weird as weird wailing noises joined in.

“We need to run brother.” Brother said, “She will scare you if we don’t.”

“Run…? Where?” He asked, “Brother of many numbers?”

“Yes, he went to the outside, the rain? You like rain remember?” Brother replied and he nodded, “Run, run as fast as you can.”

“Shoot to stun.” He heard voices in his head, “Don’t let him get away.”

“He is a valuable asset, do not kill him.” The Mistress said, “Detain him.”

“See? Rain.” Brother said, “Go look for brother of many numbers, he should be here.”

“Brother of many numbers…” He didn’t know what was happening but Brother said to do something so he did it, it wasn’t easy but he saw brother of many numbers’ colour and he made his way to him.

“See? Told you you’d make it.” Brother of many numbers said, “AZI is coming too.”

“We had better get moving, CT-5385 is in critical condition.” Droid friend appeared.

“And the cavalry is arriving.” Brother of many numbers said in a bad voice, “Come on 9999.”

“You should go… get him to safety, we’ll be okay.” 9999-1 said, “She won’t hurt or decommission us… we’re too valuable to her.”

“You’re coming to vod.” Fives said firmly but he shook his head.

“Get to safety… be safe brother and keep each other alive.” He nodded, “Go.”

“I’ll come back for you.” Fives said as he ran up the ramp, “Trust me.”

“I do.” He watched as the ramp went up and it took off into the rain.

“Stand down!” He turned to look at the people that had come to a halt.

“Put it down!” Another yelled when he produced another detonator.

“This game is over CT-9999, that is not a toy, put it away.” He looked to the Mistress who appeared with a weird looking woman, she had weird horn things on her head with long tail things coming from them, “Put it away and we shall forget your involvement in this.”

“I… I like blue…” 9999 said, he was holding another of those weird things… it had a yellow button, “Yellow…” He liked yellow, it was a good colour and made him feel happy.

“Easy trooper.” He blinked at the suddenly there person, it was a lady with pretty skin and a shiny colour.

“Shiny… pretty.” He had never seen any colour like hers, “Nice colour… safe colour…”

“That’s right, I am here to help.” She replied, “Can I see the yellow button?”

“Like yellow… too?” He asked, looking to the button.

“I love yellow, can I see it?” She asked and he nodded, putting the thing in her hand, “Thank you trooper.”

“Colour… bestest best brother said… 9999.” He explained.

“It is nice to meet you 9999.” Her colour was nice.

Kind.

#clone trooper oc #ct 5555 #clone trooper fives #clone trooper tup #ct-9999 #ct-9999-1 #the clone wars #arc trooper fives