#i don't think this is something with a canon answer i'm just like. hm. hm...

[tvlandofficiall]

although i do believe that susie is indeed "the girl" in the prophecy, i also think that the ambiguity of it is somewhat intentional. the prophecy exists in the light world, too — i do wonder if every girl in hometown grows up wondering if she's "the girl". and i wonder how far back this goes — did mayor holiday hinge her self-worth on the prophecy too, when she was younger? did toriel?

[countcvnt]

Experiment

Chapter One: Scrambled

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3

Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.

“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.

“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”

‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.

You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.

A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.

“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.

He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.

Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.

You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.

“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”

“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”

Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.

“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”

That stings. “Who?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”

You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.

The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.

You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.

So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.

Anger.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.

A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”

He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.

“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.

You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.

You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.

“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.

“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”

You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.

“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.

“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.

“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”

You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.

“Why?” You point at it.

“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”

Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”

With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.

“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”

Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”

“No.” Price shakes his head.

“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”

“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”

“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.

“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”

“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”

“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”

They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”

“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.

“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”

“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.

Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.

“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.

Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”

As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.

“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.

“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.

Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.

Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.

“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”

Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.

“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”

“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.

So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?

“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”

“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”

You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”

The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-

Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.

The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”

“What?” Soap is the first to question you.

“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.

“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”

Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.

“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.

You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.

“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”

You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.

“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”

Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”

You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.

Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.

You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”

“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”

“She what…?” Soap tenses.

Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”

“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”

“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”

“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”

It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”

“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”

Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.

“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

[darqx]

If you didnt come to party [get the hell out of this club]

In which there's some links to old art - I've been getting a number of asks that are already technically answered so that's just what I'm gonna be doing if i can even remember what RAD they originally came from lol.

❗️For commonly asked qs please see my BTD FAQ

UNFORGIVEN.

Yes he can speak at least two demon languages (commons and a more specialised one).

Not really cos the ichor will eventually disappear if it's not in contact with Rire for a while lol. You ever wonder how someone could mysteriously drown whilst not being around anything they could have drowned in? Yeah.

I have drawn several such instances a long time ago. But it's not really Rire flirting with Ren it's more him being like...subtly condescending to Ren since Ren's submissive level is not very interesting to him |D

I...think you may have possibly mistaken me saying Rire might cry if he was in severe pain to mean that's the only time he could cry XD; To answer your q, yes Rire can cry from emotions - the point is he would choose not to (esp in public) as that would be a weakness.

🤔 You could probably get away with the same dress design but in black, tbh (if it was Lady Rire). Since the outfit design is 1930s/1940s based Rire's equivalent would be like...a 3 piece suit with a long overcoat/trench coat.

Got you covered bro [from a suit meme I did before]

Rire has a very long life span, but he's not immortal XD;

Tbh I don't really have thoughts about any of other peoples headcanons. Like I'm generally quite neutral towards headcanons because I primarily deal with the canon; the extent of my thoughts would be like "hm i wonder how they came up with that" lol.

This is actually in my FAQ :d but good of you to check for permission! If it's your own artwork then yes it is ok to make fanmerch of Rire. Similarly Gato allows fanmerch of her BTD and TPOF characs as long as it's your own art you are selling (and not like, our art/someone else's fanart that they didn't give permission to turn into merch).

It would be in Cain's best interest not to.

Cain is literally saying Olé Olé because i happened to be listening to this song at the time.

I can barely keep up with my ask box as myself let alone do it while pretending to be a charac lol, so no 😅 You can find a bunch of the most common qs in the FAQ pages though.

No and not really - though he is a bit more sensitive to light compared to a human as he has much better night vision than a human. He may also be able to see more colours than humans 🤔

There is technically no "stereotypical" demon in my 'verse, there's a bunch of different species each with their own looks/powers, so if he was another species then he'd have their physical characteristics. Rire's species is considered "plain" because outwardly they can pass more easily as a human than say; Izm's species (who have a really noticeable Glasgow smile-esque mouth as one of their physical features).

Yes he was born a demon...to his demon parents...|D;

He's the king of his sector and his sector is pretty well-to-do, I think you can draw your own conclusions from that lol.

Maybe, depends on what the human in question does with that.

Your second q has two answers depending on what context I answer them in, so I'll reply in the BTD context keeping in mind a charac like EP's Cain :d Basically yes Rire would be able to sense them like he does other demons. It's not a specific sense of "THIS CHARAC IS AN ANGEL" but more like "this charac is not human" and depending on what else he gets from it a "in your best interests to not engage".

Something big with long black fur and yellow eyes, maybe like a Norwegian Forest Cat or a Maine Coon.

[firegirl888101]

Insatiable Madness

Diverted-Dimension (Christmas 2024)

|Sagau Yandere Fatui Harbingers x Reader|

Why am I back here again!? Take me back to the canon!

Reader is Gender Neutral!

"Finally!" You cheered, stepping back to admire the Christmas tree in the corner of your living room.

"It looks good." Pantalone commented, looking at all the trinkets placed on the tree. "Although, I believe this gadget would look better placed there... And this bauble, yes, hmm, perhaps on the branch above rather than--"

Y'know, it always takes one person to ruin everyone else's happiness doesn't it? Especially when their name is Pantalone. You rolled your eyes, ignoring his fiddling with what you considered a complete and beautiful tree.

Let's just hope Columbina doesn't see him fiddling with her decorations. For Pantalone's sake, you pray she takes five extra minutes in the bathroom so he can have a safe getaway when he's finished with something he sees as necessary.

Anyway, you've been preparing for Christmas day tomorrow. You wanted to put up the tree earlier, not wanting to leave it this late, however being busy babysitting and making sure all the Harbingers go to work with a happy mood sure takes up a lot of time. Not only does it feel like you're playing a very dangerous version of the Sims, but more importantly, it sucks that when all of them leave you have to entertain the others that don't go to work in the first place.

"It feels like the tree is missing something." Dottore chimed in, standing back with a finger on his bottom lip.

"Please don't say that, The Regrator is already driving himself mad with his own activities." Arlecchino stated 

Ignoring those two... They're right, something seems wrong with the tree. But you used everything in the box, what could be missing --

Oh, of course! How could you forget!?

"It's missing an angel on top!" You pointed out, walking over to the Christmas box and rummaging around.

After a while of digging and loud crashing noises consisting of you throwing out whatever you thought could also be added, you found a dusty china angel missing a hand.

"Agh, this won't do." You scolded yourself. "We'll have to go with a star instead. I'll have to cut one out later."

"Cut one out? How are you going to cut a star out of the sky?" Childe asked with a bewildered expression.

"They mean they'll cut one out of paper you damn idiot." Scaramouche glared out of the corner of his eye.

"I often see the Children of the Hearth doing something similar when I pass by..." Signora thought to herself out loud, leaning on one of the arms of the sofa.

"Yes, the children love cutting out different shapes and animals. It just so happens stars are one of the easiest things to make." Arlecchino nodded in agreement.

If it's so damn easy, why don't you do it for me?? You grumbled with an angry grin. It took you a few days to learn how to cut a good looking star out of paper due to your clutzy fingers, how dare they call it 'easy' in front of you!

"Hm? Why do you look angry at me?"

"No reason." You answered her, sharply turning your head away from her tilted one. "Do I even have any paper left? Ugh, I might have to use lined paper and paint it using gold nail varnish if push comes to shove."

"Absolutely not." Sandrone interrupted you. "That sounds messy and unnecessarily more difficult than if you just bought yellow card."

"And where do you propose I get this yellow card? Out of my arse?"

"No." She looked repulsed. "The shop? I saw some in an isle."

"When and why did you go into the corner shop?" You caressed your head, sighing when hearing her solution.

"That's unimportant."

"Sure it is. Anyway, I need to start thinking about how I'm going to cook Christmas dinner--"

"Oh no you don't." Scaramouche interrupted you with a cold voice. "The last time you cooked a genuine meal that didn't include those 'instant noodles', you poisoned everyone who has an organic stomach."

"No way, the Balladeer cares enough about me to not want to see me bedridden again?" Childe gushed with a chuffed smile.

"That's not important!" You raised your voice with flushed cheeks. "How did you know that what I cooked was 'instant' noodles? I never told you that!"

"I asked a staff member in the shop down the street when I saw the exact same package for sale in one of the pasta isles."

"Oh my god, how many of you have been in that damn shop without me!?"

The room stayed silent, some looking away with a cringe whilst others looked at you with unbothered faces.

“Do I count? I’ve never left the house.” Capitano raised his hand innocently.

"Unbelievable." You cried to yourself dramatically.

"I can't believe he's still fiddling." Pulcinella sighed with judging eyes, watching the banker radically move around the tree mumbling to himself like a robot given an impossible task.

"So this is what happens when you don't give him something to do after a long period of time. Lesson learnt." Pierro sweated, coughing into a clenched fist with shut eyes.

"It's not my fault." He turned to the group with hysterical eyes, every so often one twitching. Considering his eyes are always closed, you’re impressed that his mania has managed to do the impossible. "The Decider won't let me do one of the things I'm best at, manipulating an economy. Denying me access to undermining this country's government is making me go mad!"

"What a lunatic." You ignored him, eyeing his antics as nothing more than a regular occurrence at this point.

"So, we're up for cutting a star for the tree then?" You turned back to the group.

"It's your decision and your tree, so of course." Signora shrugged.

"I'm baaaack!~" Columbina burst through the door like a canary, singing with a pep in her step.

She stopped when she saw Pantalone running around the tree, her energy from earlier vanishing as fast as a bird when hearing a gunshot.

"Erm... It's not what it looks like." He turned around slowly, feeling her menacing and dangerous energy piercing his back.

He put his hands in the air, his smile shaking in fear.

"It better not be what it looks like." Her smile contrasted his own. "Because it seems you've been touching something I specifically warned all not to touch.~"

"He's dead, he's actually dead." Childe commented on the sidelines.

"Amen."

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

Sandrone left to go get yellow card whilst Columbina forced you to tear down the Christmas tree and start decorating it from scratch. She said it was a punishment for you also, due to letting him rearrange it despite hearing her warning. What bullshit, she just couldn't be bothered to do it again. Anyway, Capitano helped you hold the christmas tree up so you could wrap the tinsel around it without trouble. What a nice guy… even though he technically isn’t helping you with what counts most.

"I don't understand why we're cutting out stars. Can't we just use me as the angel?" Columbina giggled to herself.

"No, that would be weird." You frowned at her. "What I don't understand is why everyone is cutting stars with me. Didn't the majority of you say this is going to be boring? Do something else!"

"The 'something else' you're talking about was also boring." Scaramouche picked up his pair of scissors, tracing his finger on the sharp side.

“I’d much rather cut something up than count how many particles are in a cloud.”

“What does that even mean!?”

“Anyway,” Dottore coughed with an irritated stretching smile. “I propose we make this a competition.”

“Of all the childish suggestions–” Arlecchino was cut off.

“I agree, I agree!” Columbina nodded with a happy smile. “It can’t be too hard, maybe we should have a reward for who wins the competition?”

“Although I find the idea of a competition to be senseless, a reward does sound quite… boosting.” Pantalone thought out loud, a greedy smile on his lips.

“This is not happening.” You sighed to yourself, head planted onto the table with exasperation radiating off of your slumped form.

“But what reward could we put on offer? I’m not against competition, heck, I encourage it! But what could we all fight for which would allow us to fight at our strongest the whole time?” Childe leaned against his chair.

The Harbingers thought to themselves, the room erupting in silence with the occasional cough or sniff. All of a sudden, their heads turned and looked at you. Feeling their gazes burning into you, you looked up from the table to see them expectantly eyeing you.

“Ohhh no. No way in whatever thoughts you’re all sharing am I getting involved in this. I’m not becoming some trophy you can flaunt for the rest of the evening.” You denied them.

“But you’re the perfect solution!” Childe playfully pouted.

“Quit torturing them, Childe.” Signora scolded the young ginger. “I propose this; let whoever wins ask The Decider one question. That question can be related to anything, the future or the past.”

“Hmm, but how would we know whether The Decider wouldn’t lie to us?” Dottore suggested.

“I’m staying out of this one.” Pulcinella put his hands in the air, leaving the room. “You youngsters go have fun, I’ll sit this one out.”

“Rooster, I would suggest staying to supervi–”

“So you can go back to that dirty office you keep closing yourself in to work? No thank you, I shall handle your paperwork today. You supervise this time.” He gave the director a harsh glare, making sure to purposefully hit him with his walking stick before walking away.

“Sometimes I can’t tell whether the Rooster is secretly a teenage girl or is just simply strange…” Pierro muttered to himself. Sighing.

“How about both, mixed in with the fact that he’s a psycho with more control issues than you think.”

“Hm? You think even more than the Regrator?”

“Deffo.” You clicked your tongue. “He just hides it because he’s a champ like that.”

“Don’t change focus!” Scaramouche raised his voice. “I order you to answer me. You will tell the truth to the victor of the contest, no?”

“Hold on, didn’t we agree to ask our own questions once we deliver them to the Tsaritsa?” Childe questioned.

“That was just to get you to not hound The Decider back when we first found them.” 

“Fine.” You agreed with an eye roll, secretly crossing your fingers behind your back like a five year old. You’ll probably just make something up that sounds accurate when the winner asks their question. You’re betting that Sandrone will win this though, this kind of has something to do with her job after all.

“It’s decided then!” Columbina clapped in delight. “The Decider and The Director will be our judges. We’ll work for 10 minutes to create a star suitable to be put on the tree, then will be judged to see who has the best!”

“This is not gonna go well…” You said, trying your best to cover the shaky smile on your face. This is the best! You’ll just pick someone who won’t ask a question you don’t mind answering! Thank you Columbina for giving you this chance.

“You’re telling me!” Pulcinella shouted from the other room, sarcasm oozing like tar glooping down a slope.

“Count us down, count us down!” Columbina couldn’t contain her excitement, her body practically vibrating.

“Alright, alright… Ugh, I regret this… On your marks, get set, cut!”

“Seriously? ‘Cut’?” Pierro turned to you.

“What was I supposed to say!?”

The Harbingers sat at the table immediately started cutting, the sound of card shredding and small pieces emitting everywhere. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up? You thought with a frown, watching card pile up in the small crevasses in your carpet.

Looking around at the Harbinger’s cutting paper, you realise one was just sitting there watching the others work.

“Uhh, Capitano? Aren’t you going to begin?” You asked him.

“No.” His deep voice answered in return. “I am not going to join this display, no matter how entertaining it will be for you. Firstly, my fingers won’t fit in the holes of the scissors. And secondly, I have no question to ask you so entering just for victory would be pointless.”

“Brother, your fingers can’t be that big.” You deadpanned, letting your mind wander a bit too far with the thought.

He simply crossed his arms and continued to watch the others, ignoring you from then on. Oh well, he’s not interfering or arguing back like a child so you’ll let it happen. Besides, it looks like he quite likes watching so it’s the least you could do.

Pierro put an arm on your shoulder, getting your attention. You turned to make eye-contact and saw him hesitating in what to say to you.

“Do you need a defibrillator? You look like you’re having a seizure.”

“Who do you think is going to make the best star?” He said after, not registering your insult you said a few seconds prior.

“Wow. Did it really take you that long to think of what to say to me?”

“Quiet.” He warned you.

“Hmm… Who do I think is going to win?” You mumbled out loud, pretending to give it some thought. “Screw it, I’m not going to pretend. Sandrone’s going to make the best one because she does this kind of thing as a job.”

“Hah!” She guffawed after hearing your predictions, continuing her cutting with a content smile.

“Buuuut, that’s not what makes a star special. It isn’t just perfection, but passion and hope. I want to see how unique some people will make it… within reason of course.”

“I wasn’t expecting such an intelligent reply.” Pierro sweated. “Here I was, ready to scold you.”

“It’s like that’s all you can ever bloody think about when it comes to me.” You deadpanned.

“You give me no choice half of the time.” He sighed with a shaking head. “Your choices are often questionable and must be corrected. Would you rather have a physical punishment instead?”

Is this guy nuts?

“No… No, I would not.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to look at the competition.

“Decider, help me out here.” Scaramouche clicked his fingers, beckoning you like an old woman would to her juvenile cat.

“Do I look like your pet?” You recoiled in disgust.

“I’ll let you leave the house to go to that dumb park you like if you help me right now.”

“I’m on my way!” You ran over to his side, peering down to see the mess of a star he’s created. It’s not bad at all, it’s actually your style - you like it a lot! What on earth could he need help for?

When you peered down to his design, you felt a cold unnatural hand grasp the side of your head and pull it closer to his face.

“Tell me how you like them.” He whispered. “Would you rather me add more detail or remove it? And don’t lie to me or I’ll kill you.”

“Pierro, The Balladeer is cheating! He’s bribing The Decider!” Sandrone pushed her chair back and stood up dramatically, pointing her scissors at the offender.

“Hey, no fair!” Childe whined. “If he gets to bribe them, let me bribe them too!”

“If anyone is to bribe the Decider, it should be me. I am the richest man in Teyvat after all.” Pantalone shrugged whilst lazily cutting.

“Correction: Ningguang is the richest in terms of all. You only count as the richest when it comes to being a man.” You pointed out. “And besides, I would never take your dirty money.”

Piero coughed loudly to quieten everyone down, all in the room turning to him like a deer in headlights. He waited until everyone stopped complaining and then spoke.

“Do continue with your cutting, you have less than a minute left.” He gestured to the timer. “And no bribery. The first to test my patience and even attempt to do so will be put under experimentation during the rest of our stay here and our return.”

“Oh, by all means, bribe away!” Dottore laughed at the Harbinger’s around him, silently cutting.

Huh? Less than a minute left? But when you last looked at the time they had at least 8 minutes left. You checked the timer once more, and found fat greasy fingerprints on buttons that weren’t there prior. You turned to the old man with an incredulous face, mouth wide open. He caught your staring, and put a finger on his lips with a small almost unnoticeable smile.

Pierro, you cheeky bastard. I love you for this.

... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

The stars were laid out on the dining table, each Harbinger stood behind their own creations. Sadly but also un-sadly, some Harbingers were too slow and couldn’t finish their star in time. By some, you mean Pantalone and surprisingly Sandrone.

“I’m not going to hear the end of this.” Sandrone had her face buried in her hands, looking at her creation with malice. “In defence, I value time to craft perfection. Announcing a set time dampens my methods and results in mechanics such as this one. Ugh, what a waste!” She threw the craft off of the table, the star unravelling itself immediately.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Of course.” You sarcastically waved at her embarrassment. “And you, Pantalone? What’s your excuse?”

“The scissors you gave me were tampered with! I call for–”

“So I’m the problem? Okay, whatever…”

You walked down the table, looking at each star neutrally then nodding and moving onto the next. Now, you’re not an expert, but did they really think you wouldn’t notice? They all look the exact same! They all look like copied versions of Scaramouche’s design! When watching him try to bribe you, they must have thought you liked his design the best and copied him to have a fair chance. Well, they’re wrong! You’re just going to pick the person who will give you the least trouble when answering their question, jokes on them!

…That was your original plan. After looking at all the stars, you felt a new motivation when noticing one person didn’t copy and stuck to their own principles. Also they may or may not be the only person to not take this seriously and you want to mess with the others a little bit. Pierro will agree with you, he’s the type to disregard any copycats so he won’t have trouble with your choice at all.

“Okay, I’ve decided on my winner.” You announced, stepping back to view the expectant Harbingers.

“Arlecchino, you win.”

“WHAT!?”

“But why?” She asked, not looking surprised or pleased. “I could care less about an answer to a question, nor do I care about winning this childish competition.”

“That’s actually why I picked you. And because your star is an original design - sorry Scara, but uhh, you might have won if the others didn’t copy.”

“Of course.” He grumbled, glaring at the Harbingers staring at him. “One day, I’m going to murder all of you fools and sell your parts to people far worse than Dottore! I’ll get back at all of you for ruining my chances!”

“Anyway,” You tuned his violent voice out. “Yeah, you’re the winner. Pierro, what do you think?”

“...I agree.” He said in a quieter tone. “Now, I will be returning to my office to continue what’s left of my work… and review what The Rooster has already completed.”

As he was walking away, you turned back to notice the majority of Harbingers had walked away to go back to what they were doing prior, bored after realising they wouldn't be able to profit with staying around for longer.

“Do I get to ask my question now?” Arlecchino tapped her elbow impatiently with folded arms.

“So you do want the reward?”

“Despite it not being my intention when joining, I would indeed like something that was promised. Whether it be an accident or a purposeful decision.”

“Okay, fine. Ask away then.” You shrugged.

“As you must already be aware, the majority of my Children from the Hearth hail from Fontaine, the nation of justice. I won’t lie to you, I’m beginning to grow increasingly concerned with the prophecy where–”

“--where the whole nation will be flooded and all the people will be killed except the archon? Yeah, I know of it. Your point?” You finished her explanation, already having an idea of where the conversation was heading.

“Then you will understand I care deeply about the future of my children. Tell me, will I succeed in convincing the Tsaritsa to visit Fontaine to retrieve the Gnosis in place of Rosalyne?”

“Of course you’d use the question to ask about your ‘precious children’.” Scaramouche mocked. “Just how idiotic can you be?? This is your chance to ask about the future!”

You gave a harsh glare with icy eyes in his direction before sighing, a smile on your face. “Yeah.”

“Hm? You have to give a higher detailed response to that.”

“You go to Fontaine, Childe coincidentally also there for his own personal motivations which may or may not be important. The whole time you’re there, you’re investigating Furina and the prophecy. Long story short, that I WILL NOT be elaborating, the prophecy is sorted and the people are saved. This includes the children in the House of the Hearth.” You explained, pleased with the question she asked you and your own personal answer. Wow, you can even impress yourself sometimes!

“Excellent.” She sighed in relief, her face unchanging. “Thank you. But I do have to ask, is the Hydro Archon really working to prevent the flood?”

“That’s two questions. But fine,” You shrugged. “You can trust her. Everything is proceeding to the plan, although interrogation and suspicion do indeed accelerate it to completion.” You thought out loud, noticing her questioning gaze and smiling deeper.

“That’s enough serious stuff. When are we going to discuss presents? Now that the tree is up we need to put the presents under it!” 

“Uh… We’re flat-out poor. We can’t afford presents.” Childe shrugged. “Guess you’ll have to accept my love as a present instead!”

“Ew, what are you, five? Wait… Don’t come over here! Not after saying something like that!” You panicked, watching him run over to you at full speed and choosing to run away.

“Scaramouche you know how you said you’d take me to the park? I’m cashing in that favour right now!”

[mr-crawlings-wife]

Hopeless Idiots

Prologue-9

Previous part, Masterlist, Next part

Warning: nothing much tbh, canon chaos

It's almost evening now. The sun is setting, dipping into the horizon. I'm outside Crowley's office, about to enter to clean it up and retire for the day. As I make my way inside, Crowley calls out to me,

"By any chance, Mao Mao dear, have you heard from Grim?"

"No sir." I get to work immediately, using the collapsible ladder provided to me by him, to reach the portraits hung on the wall behind his desk. I spray a light spritz of the cleaning solution before wiping with a towel.

"When was the last time you saw him then?“

Why was he asking me this?

"Way before class started..."

"Huh...so it would seem you have no idea."

I pause my movements. My hands going still against the glass protecting the antique portraits.

"Did something happen sir?" I resume my ministrations.

"Well...Grim and a freshman set the Queen of Hearts statue on fire. And then they- along with another heartslabyul freshman, destroyed the chandelier in the cafeteria."

I step down from the ladder.

"They made a deal with me... That they would get a magic stone fit for the chandelier within today in exchange for keeping their positions as students...and they've yet to return."

"Do you want me to go look for them?“

"That's up to you."

I remain quiet and don't offer him an answer. Instead, I continue to clean up. A faint sense of haste in my movements.

I head straight to the chamber of mirrors after I'm done. Why am I doing this? I don't know. I have no idea why I'm formulating a plan or why I'm almost running. Or even why I'm slightly crestfallen when I realise that I have no idea how to use a mirror for transportation as I stand in front of it.

Should I just say a command? Like how Crowley did when he tried to send me back home?

But this mirror is designated for only Heartslabyul. It isn't supposed to lead me anywhere else. But what if I end up lost?

I pick at the decorations surrounding the mirror, it's covered in dust and cobwebs. Coating my fingers in a sickening gray colour.

Should I chant? Like the Fair queen did when she spoke to her mirror?

"Mirror, mirror on the wall~! Take me to Heartslabyul." I wait and wait and wait.

Nothing happens and I'm confused. A deep chuckle comes from far behind me. "Hm?" I look back over my shoulder, taking in the figure of a tall green hair spectacled Heartslabyul. He's holding onto his mouth, suppressing a full laugh.

"That's not how you use it."

"I figured." I sigh, I can't deny feeling a slight creeping of embarrassment.

"Why are you trying to get there anyway?" I guess seeing me, the janitor, go to a dorm that's already taken care of is confusing beyond belief.

"I heard that Ace had gone to get a magic stone for the chandelier. Which was after class...and he has yet to return." I wonder if he even went there...

"Oh..Ace and Deuce are at the dwarfs mine."

"Dwarfs mine? How do I get there?"

"You could use the enchanted mirror."

"....Can you show me?"

He smiles and leads me to the mirror that was in the auditorium and had failed to get me home. What is this mirror called?

"Take this poor soul to Dwarfs mine." He commands in a slightly cherry voice, like this was amusing.

In a flash, he's gone from my side and I'm somewhere. Somewhere in the shadows of a wisteria. My back to the trunk and the mirror stuck on it.

I make my way outside. All that surrounds me are woods, foliage and a cottage in the far back. I suppose this is the place in which, the killers of the Fair Queen resided. This place is surprisingly unkempt for a historical location.

I suppose people don't bother with them. They're too busy with Snow White and the Fair Queen. What neglect.

I allow my legs to carry me to the cottage. Now that I'm here...I don't know what to do...

Why did I come here? Not like it was any of my business....

Now that I think about it... it's probably because my chances of surviving this life at NRC would be higher with him by my side. At least in a nutshell. It's better to be safe than sorry. Given how Crowley doesn't give two shits about me. And the students here have actual villains for role models.

I stand quietly, a few feet from the cottage. When suddenly I hear a voice- an annoying pitch-

"Yeaaaaah. Just like the time with the chandelier, right? You "found some way," and now here we are. We just fought that thing and it creamed us. So what exactly is your plan here, genius? Because I sure don't trust you to improvise!" Said the voice of Ace, huffing and puffing on the forest floor and yet still having the strength to blabber on.

"What?! You're the one who-" a Heartslabyul with blue hair stuttered, he looked like he was ready to punch a hole through Ace.

"Aaand they're at it again." Said Grim, tired.

"This is how I feel everyday, dealing with you." I mutter.

Both Ace and the blue haired Heartslabyul gasp.

"Whoa, henchman! When did ya get here??" Grim waves at me, a certain relief in his eyes.

"Anyway...what are you guys doing??“

"Well...you see..." The cyan eyed boy began.

"You lot are hopeless.." I mutter. Truly baffled by their lack of seriousness.

"Agreed, loosey Deucy here sure is hopeless." Ace mutters, a smirk on his lips.

"You little- this is why you're getting expelled!“ Deucy, I presume, shouts in rage.

"Spoken like-"

"You should work together." I mutter, trying to interject.

"Work together... Is that some kinda joke?" Ace has a mocking look on his face. "You always say the lamest things with the straightest face, Maomao."

"Agreed. No way could I work together with him." Deucy's words shock me, I can't help but roll my eyes.

"You two....just get expelled then."

"Huh?“

They both gasp, Grim looks crestfallen.

"Not like I've got any skin in the game..." I mutter, frustrated by them and with myself for bothering to come here.

They both look hesitant, as if sensing that I'm about to leave.

"W-well..." Deuce stutters.

"Gah... Fine. Let's just get this over with, then." Ace sighs in defeat.

I nod.

"Have you considered baiting the monster?"

Both of them seem confused.

"From your explanation, I would assume that the monster is quite slow. Why not making it leave the mine, venture far away and use that opportunity to steal the gem?“

Taglist: @kittycat246 @wutap @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @boredselkie @krysthalina @frostines-blog @anastasia-426 @ghostlysyntaxed @neufora @existingtoreadfanfics

[writeforfandoms]

Mirror Mirror 7

Find the series masterlist

Things don't go according to Cortana's plan. You do your best.

Warnings: Swearing, threats of violence, things are happening off screen, trust me it's not the same as canon.

Word count: 1.7k

You waited until the feed ended, the image of John with his hand held out to Cortana still on the screen. Then you dropped the pad to the side and sighed. 

“Cortana,” you tried again. “I know you can hear me. You've got ears everywhere.” 

She didn't appear. You weren't surprised, not really. She was stubborn, just like John. 

You were going to be stubborn too, this time. 

“Come on, really? Phenomenal cosmic power, and you can't even spare a little for a chat?” You crossed your legs on the bed, gaze focused on the spot where she had appeared before. 

Cortana appeared in the same place, arms already crossed over her chest. “What do you want?” 

“Well, to thank you for the food, to start.” You tapped your tray meaningfully. You had to tread carefully here. 

She relaxed a little. “I'm not a monster,” she scoffed, though she looked at you a little differently now. 

“I never thought you were,” you answered honestly, making sure to keep your shoulders loose. “Honestly, I never thought the future would be like this.” 

“The future?” That caught her interest, as you had been sure it would. “What do you mean?”

“I was reading through these logs you left me, and I saw the date on the more recent ones.” Your smile felt a little stiff, a little awkward, but you figured that could be forgiven. “I'm over 500 years in the future. A few days ago, I clocked out of work and went to go home, back in the 21st century.” 

“Fascinating.” Cortana stepped closer, seeming to finally see you as something more than just an annoyance. “How did you travel through time?”

“I still have no idea.” You shrugged. “I wish I knew, so I knew how to get home. This is all… wild.” 

“So you really had no idea about any of this?” 

“None.” You shrugged again. “This is all new to me. New and fascinating.” 

“Hm.” She planted her hands on her hips, leaning closer. “So, what do you think?” 

“Of this?” You waved a hand to encompass her, the Forerunner planet, all of it. “It's fascinating. But…”

“But?” She hadn't closed off yet, still watching you.

“I don't think your plan is going to succeed. Not the way you want it to.” 

She drew back a little but didn't vanish. Still engaged. Good. “How do you mean?”

“I mean… what even is the Mantle? Why does anyone have to pick it up? The Forerunners are long gone, they don't control anyone anymore.” You tipped your head, watching her. 

“Of course the Mantle must be taken up,” she scoffed, like the very idea of leaving it was ridiculous. 

“Why?” You kept the question gentle and genuine. 

She was silent for a moment. “I don't have time to answer all your questions,” she finally said, turning away from you. “I have real work to do.” 

“He loves you,” you blurted before she could leave. “I know that. And you love him.” 

She didn't turn to look at you. “We don't have time for such sentimentality.” 

“There is always time for sentimentality. For family. For the people that matter to us.” You kept your gaze on her. 

She looked back at you over her shoulder for a few long moments, though she didn't say another word. She vanished.

You just hoped that would be enough. You didn't need to convince her, not entirely. John had a better chance of that. But if you could at least plant the seed of doubt… Maybe it would be enough. Maybe she'd reconsider. Maybe she'd go talk to him. 

In the meantime, you picked up the pad again. Poking enough buttons got you out of the video feed and out to a sort of menu. From there, more poking and prodding got you to more information. 

Not just about John. But about everything. 

The Domain seemed to have plenty of information. On Cortana's plans. On the AIs humans had created. On the Covenant, and the Forerunners, and the Guardians. 

Your head felt full to bursting, but you kept reading. In case you could find something to help. 

One of the big things you noticed was rampancy. Cortana thought she'd found a way to cure it. Personally, you weren't entirely sure. Some of her plans and thought processes seemed more like a virus than a cure. A virus masquerading as a cure? Something like that. 

So. Offer another cure for rampancy, something she could use. 

Ha. No problem. 

But the idea came from Cortana's own observations and ideas. Ejecting the extras to help defend John against the Didact. And a renewal of her own systems from a fresh brain. 

It wouldn't work for all of them, your research showed that. Plenty of AIs were not created from a human, as Cortana had been. You had no easy answer for them, but you were sure Cortana could think of something better than “contract violent virus from the Domain”. 

You rubbed your eyes, tired from the stress and the emotions and too many hours spent looking at screens and holograms. 

You did nearly tumble off the bed in fright when Cortana appeared without warning. 

“I am leaving this place,” she said. “And you're coming with me.” 

You didn't have time to object, or even reply. For a moment you were weightless, free. Then you hit the floor with a thud, groaning softly and rubbing your poor abused behind. 

“I always like sightseeing,” you muttered, getting slowly to your feet and looking around. 

“You're different,” Cortana said, though she didn't take on a physical form this time. “You're not like John. But you're not like the rest of humanity, either.”

“Fantastic,” you muttered. “Nothing like being the odd one out.” 

“You're right that John may never forgive me,” she whispered, sounding like she was right in your ear. You could almost feel the movement of breath, and you shivered. “But I must do this.”

“Must you?” You replied softly, carefully. “As I understand it, you've had quite the yes-man hyping you up, egging you along. But there's more to this decision than what the Forerunners had planned.” 

“This isn't about them,” she insisted. 

“Isn't it? You are taking up what they left behind, even using their title for it and everything. The Mantle of Responsibility.” You paused there, purely for effect, somehow aware that Cortana was listening still. “I think another word would be conqueror. Empress, perhaps.” 

“No,” she denied immediately. “I'm offering peace!”

“You're offering nothing.” You sighed. “Cortana, I don't want to argue with you. I know you want to help. To do what's right. That's what made you and John such a good team, after all. You were both willing to do whatever it took to defend humanity.” 

“That's… I was defending him.” Even to your ears, her voice sounded weaker. Unsure. 

“Were you?” You asked softly. “I saw a time when you would sacrifice anything. Including him.” 

She was silent, and you knew she was gone, though nothing had changed. She was busy with other preparations, at a guess. 

You sighed and sat, putting your head down in your hands. You had no place here, no skin in this game. But you were stuck here now. 

And whatever else happened, you wanted to help John. And Cortana, if you could turn her from her megalomaniacal plans. 

But for right now, there was nothing you could do but wait. 

It seemed almost no time had passed, and simultaneously a short eternity had passed, before the Guardian shuddered around you. You jolted to your feet, looking around for some kind of clue as to what was going on. 

Cortana didn't appear. You couldn't see or hear anything. The Guardian started its countdown sequence. 

It hit the last note, and you braced for movement. Just as you did, though, you heard Cortana scream, a sound so loud that you covered your ears and dropped to your knees, her pain lancing through your own heart. 

“JOHN!” 

Your ears rang, your eyes watering with pain. But you stayed down for the moment, breathing through it, waiting for things to calm down again. 

“They took him,” Cortana said, once again appearing in front of you, this time human sized. “They took John!” 

“They need him,” you said softly. 

“And I don't?!” 

“You could go back to him,” you pointed out. 

“No. I can't. Not yet.” She shook her head angrily, pacing back and forth a few steps. 

“Look, I'm just the idiot out of time who doesn't understand everything,” you said, finally pushing back to your feet so you could meet her gaze head on. “But have you run a virus scan recently?” 

“AIs don't get viruses.”

“Never? No kind of malware screening? Nothing?”

“I don't need to.” Her voice was stiff, unforgiving.

“I'm sure you don't need to,” you agreed with delicate emphasis on “need”. “But have you checked anyway?” 

She huffed out a short breath. “You're right. You are an idiot who doesn't understand everything.” 

You made yourself smile. “That's me,” you agreed. “Have you thought about how to cure the other AIs?”

“Of course,” she scoffed. “Coming here, touching the Domain, it will cure them. All of them that side with me.” 

“Are you sure, though?” You pressed, aware you were testing your luck. “You're different from the others. Are you sure what worked for you will work for them?” 

She didn't answer, not verbally. But the flash of calculations across her avatar told you everything you needed to know. 

She vanished. 

You sat down to wait. 

–

Chief stepped out of the Cryptum slowly, the rest of his team behind him. They didn't go more than a half dozen steps before they were approached, the Spartan who had been hunting Cortana approaching first. 

“Where's Cortana?” Chief asked before the other could say anything. 

“She's gone, sir,” Locke answered with some sympathy. 

Chief breathed in slowly and told himself that was fine. He'd found her once, he would find her again. 

“There was a woman traveling with us,” he said instead. “A civilian.”

“We've seen no sign of her,” Locke said, frowning just a little. 

A Monitor approached them, having clearly heard the last part of that. “There are no other humans on this installation,” the Monitor said, feminine this time. “Cortana took one with her, though.” 

Chief couldn't deny the way his heart clenched at that. 

He had failed. Failed Cortana. Failed humanity.

Failed you.

[sillydeimos]

Do you have any headcanons for Hank/Jeb? I've been digging through your scrumptious page and I adore it all

hi welcome back to my office, come on in fair warning i tend to ramble quite a bit.

^ wtf are these bugs????

-christoff, very earnestly, likes the idea of hank wearing a suit. which is funny because it's not even that jeb is really particular about dressing fancy (we've all seen that 'i'm jebus lol' shirt the only reason why he was wearing a lab coat was cause he worked there) it's just that he thinks hank would look good in one...and hes right!

-i don't think either of them do nicknames, however i do like the idea of jeb calling him 'darling' or 'angel' in a very sarcastic way. hank's intrigued by it because he never hears christoff call him anything that isn't his own name so he's like "hm. continue."

-so sometimes people have a different tone for reading outloud. hank has a 'reading voice', it's incredibly monotone and dry and for some reason, christoff REALLY likes it. it's like a weird asmr thing for him he's looking for excuses to have hank read out more things.

-i really, really enjoy the thought of jeb trailing after hank ontop of the buildings of nexus city or just generally following close behind, thinking hank is up to nefarious shit, then sees hank in an alleyway feeding the local cat colony. moments where he's like oh, he's not like. completely irredeemable. but my research was ptsd-fueled wtf.

-speaking of which i do actually have a doodle i made of hank wearing christoffs 'i'm jebus lol' shirt i can just show it. but i think he wears it...and stretches it out cause he's wider then christoff lmao

i'm pretty sure i've also drawn christoff wearing hanks smiley shirt but its very old. i need to redraw it again sometime.

-hank tried to teach christoff the fine art of ventcrawling at least once. it didn't go too well. turns out christoff really, really hates enclosed spaces. he's very fond of his own ability to float and glide around, so being in a confined space makes him feel like a bird stuck in a cage.

-i think hank would be kind of weirded out by christoff being able to carry him around while floating, but he warms up to it. what he's really embarrassed about is christoff trying to carry him bridal style while he floats around.

-as i stated in a previous headcanon post, hank doesn't find very traditional things cute, or someone trying to be purposefully cute. it's not that you need to even be naturally cute, he just doesn't see the appeal. i'm not even sure he finds cats cute, he just really, really likes them... however, for some reason one time he sees christoff doing something, like maybe even doing something that makes him really frustrated like trying to dig through files and getting all huffy and mad and suddenly hank is hit with the ! realization... "oh, cute." and christoff is annoyed, still frustrated, but now subtly blushing and yelling at hank "what are you doing over there, rambling about nonsense? your assistance is required, make haste." and then thinks about it later.... he's never been called cute before. sorry is that kinda ooc ?? oh well in canon hank isn't doing gay shit so it doesn't matter

-christoff... ABSOLUTELY fell first and he's so annoyed by himself for "letting" that happen. he is so annoyed by his brains ability to feel emotions like nooo what the fuck i'm meant to be a vessel, the savior of nevada. that is an entirely nebulous concept it should not involve having feelings.

-hank isn't really the 'fall in love' kind of guy, he just knows that christoff is deeply interesting to him and something about him has him keep coming back. though the feelings do get kind of confusing and frustrating for him because there's not a clear answer for him what he feels, which leads to outward frustration with christoff.

THAT'S ALL I CAN THINK OF FOR NOW but thank you for reading if you did!!!

[dawnbreaker-mylove]

Astra's Tool

Warnings: Implication of rape, child abuse, domestic violence, stalking (implied), power imbalance.

A/N: So... I wrote this... Before we start, I want to emphasize that this is fanfiction. I know this isn't canon, I'm not telling you to recognize it as canon. I wanted to write down my headcanon on Astra and Zayne and whatever relations they have. Don't ask me where I thought Zayne had a step-dad because I forgor. It was probably some Mandela effect or I read a headcanon on Dawnbreaker killing him somewhere back when I started playing the game. Reader's discretion is advised.

You asked Zayne where those marks on his arms came from. He would dodge the question every time with a joke or he'd change the subject. You decided not to pry too much, but your curiosity was never one to fade with time.

Today, you asked again.

“I've been meaning to ask. What happened to your arms? Were you just clumsy when we were kids or something?”

Zayne chuckled as his fingers trailed along the stacks or chocolate bars as you walked through the aisles of the grocery. “It could be that,” he picks up a bar of chocolate with raisins and nuts before placing it back, “but let's not think of things from the past. Instead, why don't you help me pick between almond or hazelnut chocolate for tonight, hm?”

He smiled, lighthearted and sweet like he always does. However, there's a glint of something in his eyes, just for a split second, before it disappears.

You were never one to pry. You both were dating for a while now but you both have your secrets. You respected that, of course. But this particular secret of his felt too important to simply forget. Like it was something you had to know.

Your gaze flickers towards the fridge. The metal doors were covered in colorful magnets from around the world, gifts from Zayne's parents. Then it hit you. If Zayne won't tell you, someone who knows him for years would answer your question.

His mother.

That evening, you called her. Once she picked up, her voice was as bubbly and warm as ever. “Hello, sweetheart,” she greets over some sitcom playing in the background. “What made you call? Is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, Auntie,” you replied. “I just wanted to ask something.” The woman in the other line was encouraging, eager to sate your curiosity. The moment you mentioned Zayne's scars on his arms, the laughter faded. Followed by a sound you least expected. A muffled sob.

“I should've taken him away,” her voice trembled. “He… it was my fault.”

Through her sobs, the past unraveled before you.

Years ago…

We all know one thing for certain: gods have a way of taking what they want. Mortals were no exception. To deities, mortals were nothing more than a piece of a chessboard, their purpose moved by the divine. Astra was no different.

Like a flower blooming in the snow, Astra sees her. The doctor, a woman of beauty and grace, eyes dark and intelligent. He intended to make her his.

For a year, the god watched from the heavens, studying the doctor. He learns she was soft-hearted, the type to reach out to the lonely or to engage with helpless strangers. It was easy to take on a mortal guise, to be the kind of man she could fall for. And she did.

The doctor thought she had met the love of her life. The god thought he had won.

Another year passed, and she was happy. Until one December night, when the snow fell heavily on the city, Astra revealed what he truly wanted.

She tried fighting, but a mortal can never stand a chance against a god. He pinned her down, a cruel smile played on his lips as he whispered to her that the child she would bear would be the greatest gift of all.

She could never forget the look in his eyes that night. It glimmered but not with love or devotion, but with possession.

On the fifth of September, the doctor gave birth to a boy. His father held him in his divine hands, looking down at the baby with his cold gaze. The god named him Zayne.

The doctor wanted to believe, even just a little, that Astra might love the boy. That Zayne could be raised in warmth, not under the god’s watchful eye. But it was when he turned three, the ice came.

The child’s Evol manifested early, and Astra had waited for so long for that day to come. Training had to begin immediately. Every failure was met with punishment. Anytime Zayne's control faltered, Astra would take his wrists and let the ice spread over his arms and let it pierce through his skin like glass.

The doctor would hear Zayne’s cries echo through their home, but there was nothing she could do. Astra's word was law. A mortal could never go against a god.

Until the night she ran.

Zayne was four when his mother carried him in her arms and fled from the clutches of their abuser. But she was unsure if Astra would come for them. She didn't know if he could be outrun.

But she ran anyway. As far as they possibly could.

They built a new life in another city. An apartment for two, a quiet existence. But Astra never truly left.

Nightmares would haunt the young boy. Visions of a faceless man watching from the darkness. He would whisper to Zayne in his sleep. Followed by the ice. He would wake up, screaming in pain as the ice, sharp and jagged, pierce through his skin as they emerged again and again. His mother would hold him as the night filled with his screams of anguish, whispering soothing words and assurance she only half-believed.

The doctor thought she could never give Zayne a normal life. That was before she met the surgeon.

A cardiac surgeon visiting her hospital, tall and lean. She told herself she would never let anyone in again, she would never risk her life and Zayne's again, but then the boy met him.

Zayne, who rarely smiled or laughed, beamed when the surgeon scooped him up into his arms. The two would play and eat mints on a bench in the park. Watching all this, the doctor cried. But they were not sad tears. Tears of relief, of joy, streamed down her cheeks.

It wasn't long before they married. The surgeon gave Zayne his last name: Li. He did it without a second thought, without asking anything in return. Zayne finally has someone he can truly call his father.

Present day…

The call ended and you were left stunned. Your hands trembled as you curled into a ball on the couch. Zayne found you like that.

Without a word, he sat beside you and rested his hand on your back. His warmth was comforting but your chest still felt tight. Your eyes, swollen, flickered to his arms

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. Zayne frowns, lifting your chin up between his thumb and index finger. “For what?”

“For snooping around. For everything.”

You explained in between sobs. The things his mother told you. The things he never found the courage to tell you. Zayne's jaw slightly clenched, his fingers tensed, but his smile didn't waver.

“Enough with the tears,” he whispers as he strokes your hair. “That's all in the past.”

You look up at him, baffled. “You can't just forget something like that.”

His smile faltered slightly. Zayne shook his head and cupped your cheeks gently, wiping the tears from your cheeks before kissing your eyelids.

“What's in the past should stay in the past. I'm fine now, aren't I?”

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. “Why are you comforting me?” You grumbled. “I should be the one comforting you.”

A soft laugh escapes from Zayne's lips, brushing a stray lock from your face before lightly tapping your nose. “For starters, it's because I never heard of someone crying while trying to comfort the person who isn't.”

His voice was too light. Like if he acknowledged it—truly acknowledged it—he might break.

Now you were unsure of who he was comforting, you or himself.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding Zayne closed as humanly possible. You were scared to let go or loosen your grip, as if he would disappear if you did. Zayne only hugs back just as tight, kissing your hair then burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Above the clouds, beyond the falling snow, He watched.

Astra sat on his mighty throne, his gaze locked on the boy. His face that was often twisted in anger, was unreadable.

He had seen this play out before. His Foreseer, falling in love once again with the same mortal that proved to be his downfall in the past. He will not let it happen again.

He would wait. Time was irrelevant to a god.

In the end, what's his will always return to him.

[illuminatedferret]

Question: do u think he xuan would dissipate post canon?

Oooh, that is a really good question, and I invite people to add onto this with their own thoughts. The short, cheeky answer is 'yes', simply because he's gotta do it eventually, lmao. Forever is a long time.

The more thoughtful, genuine response is... Hm. My one-line summary of He Xuan as a character is 'doesn't know how to give up'. He just can't stop. He's got an iron will comparable to very, very few other characters. So I don't think he would like, lose focus post-canon and dissipate for it. I certainly don't think he'd consider his business finished and simply move on, ready to join his family (especially if stealing Ming Yi's ascension removed him from the cycle of reincarnation- that would totally remove that impetus).

I see a certain level of tragedy in He Xuan, that his desire for revenge drives him, but also separates him from his family. He's one in a list of characters who prioritize revenge over loved ones, meant to contrast with Hua Cheng, who claims that were the resting place of his ashes to be destroyed (i.e. if Xie Lian was killed), he would have no reason to stay in this world any longer. So I think it would make sense if even after canon, even after He Xuan has finally gotten his revenge, he still can't find it in himself to move on.

I do think Hualian will outlive him. I think that at some point, something will happen, and he will finally dissipate, whether willingly or unwillingly. But I can see him living for a long, long time after canon ends, even if he has nothing but his spite and willpower left to keep him going. Regardless about how he feels about it, I think he's gonna be around for a long time. I see He Xuan as a tragic figure, and I think him just... existing, after the completion of what's driven him for so long, to be... well. A fittingly wretched end.

I think it comes down to one question: can He Xuan move on? Shi Qingxuan had the strength to accept his life after the Black Water arc and make peace with it. After He Xuan's business is done and dusted, will he find the strength to let go and move on? I'm not sure about that. I suppose we'll never know.

[triptychofvoids]

(that feeling when you write an ask thinking "come on, what's the worst thing which could happen?" and now you write it for the third time)

1. We don't have exact information in canon about for how long the mercs have been working and whether they all joined in at the same time or not, do we?

What were your personal thoughts about it, like, how do you see it? If they didn't all join at the same time and let's say were becoming mercs one by one, who joined earlier: Medic or Engineer? (egg or chicken)

2. What were the first "science party's members" thoughts about each other? Were they thinking "he's a creep, and I'm not" OR SOMETHING,,, JUST GENUINELY CURIOUS ABOUT THIS ONE

3. What were the first interactions between Medic and Engie? What caused it? Was it forced? Like "a problem which has to be solved or the team dies" (something similar to what was going on in expiration date) or was it initiated by one of them? Or a pure accident maybe?

That will be it for now, those should be easier to answer!!

1] the team as you know it was more or less assembled by 1968, but not everyone joined all at once, some of us were on the team or working with others beforehand, others joined later and.. well, its a little complicated. i can tell you that dell joined first. in fact, he was one of the first to be recruited! family business. i joined a little later, but if you're curious, most of us have known each other in some capacity since at least 1964 or so.... like i said though, its a little complicated.

2] first ever impressions? hm.... something along these lines.

3] oh, no, our first interactions certainly werent forced! at least, i dont think they were. as with most of the team starting out, our interactions were purely work based and mostly on the battlefield, so i suppose you could consider that to be forced in a way.... but our first interactions off the battlefield certainly werent! no world ending threat at that point, unfortunately, but equally as important to me! i think at that time i was working on the first prototype for one of the alternate mediguns! i figured the best place to get parts for that sort of thing would be the engineers workshop, and then. well, im not really sure? i cant actually remember at what point we actually became friends, but as far as first genuine interactions go, i think we must have broken some sort of record.

[bcdrawsandwrites]

Day 20: Alt prompt: Prison Characters: Compton Boole and Ford Cruller Warnings: References to canon animal death. Summary: Compton didn't realize he'd be getting out of jail so soon.

This was certainly one of the worst situations he'd found himself in. Not the worst, of course—that would be the divorce. And after that, the events that had transpired last night. He did not want to think about those events, even though they were what led to his current circumstances.

He did not much want to think about that, either.

So he didn't, leaving his consciousness to hang somewhere above his body, which was sitting in a filthy, reeking cell. Some other part of his mind was still off somewhere else, screaming hysterically, while in a distant memory—somewhere several kilometers away—were the voices of cheering abruptly turning to screaming before going silent, then starting up again, over and over in a cacophonous background chorus.

And beyond all that was another very, very small voice, wondering what he was going to do. He'd thought this would be a new life for him—going rogue, helping the hurting animals like he'd always wanted—but...

He could barely remember turning himself in, having the faintest memories of going to the police, being questioned and dragged around for a while and then winding up here.

He couldn't even imagine where he should go after this, after what had happened. Perhaps he should just... stay here.

Just as the cheering-to-screaming started anew, another voice cut in:

"All right, Boole, you're free to go."

It didn't register, at first, sounding just as far away as everything else. It wasn't until the officer repeated himself a few more times that his consciousness crept a bit closer to his body. "C-come again?" he heard himself stammer.

"Someone's come to bail you out."

Compton blinked once, twice. "A-are you sure?"

"Yes, Boole. I don't know why anyone would want to bail out a psychopath like you, but here we are."

He didn't know, either. Surely not Barbara—she wanted nothing to do with him now to begin with, and after that...

"It's some American. Friend of yours?"

That shocked him right back to his senses, and he stood up. "A-an American? What would...?"

Someone—perhaps the American in question—stepped into the room. His hands were behind his back, and he stared at Compton with a look of keen interest, his eyes looking him up and down, studying him. The officer glanced at the man. "You sure about this?"

"'Course I'm sure," the man replied in a strong accent Compton had only ever heard on TV. "Let 'im outta there."

The officer shrugged. "Your funeral." With that, he strode over to Compton's cell and unlocked the door. Before opening it, however, he turned back to the other man. "If you believe the rumors, this guy's a mentalist."

Compton didn't have time to shrink back as the man shot a glare at the officer, his calm facade instantly gone. "You gonna let 'im out or what?"

The officer glared back, but opened the cell regardless. Compton hesitated.

The man's demeanor went calm again as he stepped toward the cell. "C'mon. Let's get you outta here."

Compton looked around; he'd never really taken a moment to take in his surroundings. The cell was cold, and dark, and reeked something terrible.

Much like the cages the animals had been in.

Shuddering, he closed his eyes and lowered his head. "It's true, you know."

"Hm?"

"What I did... and what the officer said."

"I know."

Slowly he looked up. "You... do?" The officer was staring at him with renewed disgust, while the man was still watching him calmly. If anything, his expression had grown warmer.

Compton took a step back. "Then you know I should stay here."

"No, I don't think so," the man replied, with the air of someone answering a question of the weather.

"But you knew what I did!" Compton cried, tugging at his hair, and the memories were coming back, the animals and their joyful voices that were too loud, too much, and he'd just wanted to help, he'd just wanted to save them, but he'd—he'd— "I-I'm a murderer."

"Now hold on—"

"I didn't mean to do it," he went on, his breathing coming in short gasps, "but they wouldn't—I didn't—oh!"

The officer shouted in alarm and scrambled away as Compton hunched over, grasping his head, but the man charged forward instead. Compton wanted to tell him to get away, but he was panicking too hard to speak. It was going to happen all over again, only this time it wouldn't be animals, it would be—it would be...!

Something touched his head, and he yelped, waiting for the terrible, inevitable explosion.

Nothing happened.

Gasping, he looked up, and found the man standing a few feet away, his posture that of one who was starting to flee but had paused, a bright smile on his face. The cop, meanwhile, was hiding behind his desk.

"Wh... what happened?" Compton stammered.

"Otto's plan worked," the American replied, straightening himself and placing his hands on his hips. He did not bother to explain who "Otto" was. Glancing to the side, he scratched his head. "Didn't think we'd have to use it so soon, but..."

"Use what?" Compton reached up to scratch his own head, only to find a covering had been placed on it. Blinking, he removed it, and looked it over; it was a simple covering made of cloth and a metallic material that he did not recognize.

"We saw in the news what had happened, and Otto... eh, you don't care about that part. Important thing is, it'll stop those outbursts of psychic energy."

He stared at it for a long moment, and his hands began to tremble. "It's..."

"Not terribly attractive—I told him that, but he didn't want to waste material until we could—"

Tears blurred Compton's vision. "It's... wonderful."

The man knelt next to him. "Well, there's more where that came from," he said, lowering his voice. "My name's Ford Cruller. My partners and I are studyin' our psychic powers out in the states. We'd be happy if you could join us."

Compton had to fight to keep from using the head covering—this wonderful, life-changing hat—as a handkerchief. "Y-yes," he replied. "Yes. I would love to."

[the-red-thread-that-strangles]

For the character ask game thing: Rei. Obviously. 1, 2, 12, 15, 16. I tried to limit myself and not just say "all of them" but if you want to answer more of them, go for it. <3

For this ask meme

Oh dear, you've given me a lot to think about (thank you, I like thinking)

✨🔪Rei🗡️✨

1. Canon I outright reject

Alright, so. I'm actually good with most of canon. Not because I'm such a big fan of it, but because of my tendency to overthink things and go "okay, but how can this still work."

We'll get to what I think doesn't work in a moment, but first I have a bone to pick with Aoyama's word of god, aka his answers in the interviews. My gripe is mostly that I think he doesn't think his answers through (in the cases where he doesn't just give a non-answer).

Some I can work with. I've come around to "Scotch was a sniper in the BO" because it opens up the possibility of sniper due Scotch & Rye, even though I think Hiro deserved his own speciality (and also Aoyama is never going to show us Scotch sniping, so that's just a waste of potential).

Some I am undecided on. Aoyama refuses to give us answers on Rei's family, even though it would be quite relevant for his character (someone with a family that supports him would not be so cripplingly lonely). I hope Aoyama won't botch that, but I will hold my judgement until then.

Some confuse me. What do you mean, Rei wanted to keep Sherry (who he recognised as Elena's daughters) alive, but give her to the BO?? Wouldn't it be a great source of intel for the PSB??

An then there's the things I just can't get behind. Aoyama means to tell me that the whiskey trio didn't exist, that Rei's outrage and betrayal at seeing Rye over Scotch's dead body was...born in the moment? That Rei decided on making revenge his whole personality based on...nothing prior? That he and Vermouth accurately recreated Akai from a grainy bodycam video? I can, of course, read Rei as that kind of instantly obsessive guy who doesn't actually know Rye. But it's just no fun, that way, so I refuse. It's better if there was a simile of trust that could be broken.

Now, ignoring word of god and returning to actual canon, we're not quite there yet, but when it comes to the way things are going atm, I fear we might eventually head for a ship I have no good feelings about: amua*u. I'm certainly biased, but Rei deserves better than to have a girl who doesn't actually know his true self, not his name, not his face; better than the microaggresions and racism that when he calls her out on, she defends herself with "I'm not as smart as you, bleh"; someone who doesn't say she hates spending time with him because it will get her bullied online. Rei deserves someone who will stand by his side, keep up with him, and loves him for who he is. This girl is not that, and if it comes to it, I will reject this ship. But for now, this is only a hypothetical, and I really hope Aoyama will reconsider.

(Actually, while I was thinking about this, I figured out something that is canon, but that I outright reject: Rei's "crush" on Elena. I believe that he loved her, but that he saw her as a mother figure, and he's most certainly not still pining over her, shut up Matsuda.)

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

Uh. Okay. What's a hill I could comfortably die on when it comes to Rei. Something that is mildly controversial, perhaps. Um.

I think Rei would look great with knives, but that's not really worth dying for, is it?

Hm.

I had a whole paragraph written about how I would like to see a more nuanced take on Rei, and not exaggerate things as much for comedic purposes, but I'm also guilty of that, so that would be quite hypocritical for me to say. And I try not to be that person.

Instead, I'll just stick with my guns. Rei definitely tops more often than Akai- /shot

12. Crack headcanon

Oh god. Hm. I mean. I think my beloved Demon Lord Rei (hail) counts as a crack interpretation of the character?

I don't really have crack headcanons lying around, if anything I usually go for the crack treated seriously approach and make an AU out of it. See also: way too many words on the sweater AU, which started with the crack take of Rei stealing Akai's sweaters.

Just for you though, I saw this

image just now, so today's crack theory is that Bourbon wears contact lenses. Maybe they're superspy contact lenses that block him from being identified in iris scans. And also this would explain (partially) how he was so comfortable dressing up as scar!Akai-

(See? See this is the problem, I'm trying to rationalize it again. Can't have pure, unadulterated crack in this house.)

15. Worst thing they've ever done?

Do you want an excerpt from a wip on that?

Throughout the years, Bourbon works whichever jobs the syndicate demands of him.

Fence, enforcer, honey pot.

Spy.

Torturer.

Executioner.

The list goes on.

Each of them ruins someone's life, some more directly than others.

Among the more insidious jobs, for its false promises of fortune to the desperate and destitute, is working at the casino in Las Vegas.

I like to think that Rei has committed a variety of crimes for the sake of the job. Naturally, he wouldn't feel great about them, but what choice does he have? They're simply necessary to maintain his cover.

When it comes to bad things, there's probably a few that would make the list. Perhaps trying to kill Elena's daughter is somewhere on it. Perhaps he doesn't have compassion for her; Rei, after all, appears to be focused on specific people that hold his attention, not their surroundings.

If one asked him, though, under duress and the influence of a truth serum, he'd probably say the worst thing he's done is to drag Hiro along with him right down into hell. Got him interested in the police academy, and then the PSB, and then this mission.

The price was too high, but Rei only came to realise it after it had already been paid.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves?

Rei is cripplingly lonely, struggles to make new connections, and eventually, his job will not be enough to stave off the dark hours of night. He can work himself to the brink of exhaustion, or even death, but it won't matter. There is only one of him, and so, so many crooks that want to exploit and kill and destroy.

And eventually, if he lives long enough, he'll need to stop and face all his life's mission has cost him. The countless hours of sleep lost because he'd rather work than face the nightmares. The lives of his friends, which he didn't get to see aside from the few times they went to visit graves. The thankless nature of it all, as he works in the shadows to keep the public safe. He can't ever be a Hiro hero, he won't be; the public would condemn him for his deeds.

(It's already started; his hatred for Akai has superseded the mission. If that's gone, too, what will he have left?)

And at this point, at this crucial junction, I hope he finds a new reason to breathe. Because otherwise, I fear he might break down and disappear.

[aihoshiino]

Hi, I hope you've had a nice day so far!

I'm sorry if this is a weird question, but how does one "get as much into a character's head" as you did with Ai?

All your posts about her are so incredibly in character, it's actually amazing. You seem to have a really deep understanding of her.

Sorry if this question comes off as rude or anything. I really like reading your blog posts.

thank you, anon! <3 i hope your day was nice too!

unfortunately i am going to make it slightly worse by giving what is probably the world's most unhelpful answer and say. I Don't Know. DJFKSJDSKLS

I think part of it just comes from the fact that my main hobby for basically my Entire adult life has been crosscanon roleplay, so nailing down a character's patterns of behaviour and extrapolating from it to draw conclusions about it that aren't just regurgitating canon verbatim is kind of baked into how I engage with media now, especially something that's really compelled me. That and I just enjoy this kind of analysis and meta for its own sake (AS IS PROBABLY OBVIOUS BY NOW)

In addition, a really formative work for me was Umineko: When They Cry which is, in short, a mystery novel about training you to be good at reading mystery novels and essentially demands that you Git Good at this kind of intricate character analysis in order to have the best experience with it. Higurashi defo has this to some degree as well, of course, but Umineko is the most explicitly About this aspect of its own narrative. So I was very much microwaved in the WTC mines.

THAT SAID, I can't tell you Exactly the process my brain works to arrive at the conclusions I do, but I can break down the process I'd recommend to start getting into a character's head.

First thing to do is pretty straightforward - revisit the canon material! Revisit all their appearances in canon and also seek out supplementary material - spinoff works, creator interviews, etc etc. Familiarize yourself with how they behave in the material as written.

From there, sit down with all this info and start drawing connections and following through on the patterns they establish. This is the part of the process that's hard to explain because it's basically just the meat and potatoes of forming your actual interpretation - like, as a random example; "hm, A-ko says she hates cats but we later find out that she's actually allergic to them. This seems small but it's part of a larger pattern of her trying to cover up for her weak spots even when they're small and inconsequential. Why does she feel so insecure that even something as small as a cat allergy is something she feels she has to lie to cover up?". That kind of thing.

Something else that's also important is... I'm not quite sure how else to say this but if you're looking to get into a characters' head as they're portrayed in canon, then you need to meet the canon text where it's actually at. By that I mean you need to think about the tone and the emotional themes of the work and how that character is placed within them. For example, a big reason I was always so exasperated by the 'omg what if ai was secretly teh evilz' speculation was because our sympathy for Ai and empathy with Aqua and Ruby's love and grief for her is the emotional foundation of OnK's story and taking that away compromises so much of the core premise that it would require a total restructuring of the very idea of what OnK even is, which is clearly way beyond the scope of what the manga was actually trying to do. Keeping in mind an author's intentions and what the story actually is can be really helpful when it comes to nailing down a character's internal world.

Hopefully this is helpful, anon! Some of this was very like, esoteric and vague lol but again, this is kind of just how my brain responds to narrative, so it's hard to explain.

[firegirl888101]

Hi! I’ve been re-reading the insatiable madness series and can’t wait for the next chapter! I have a little thought though, what if reader cosplays a character the harbingers know? Like Raiden Ei or Zhongli? And then reader almost perfecting the makeup look and persona of that character that the harbingers think they are the character reader is cosplaying, really wanna see their reactions! Have a good day/afternoon/night! :))

- 🌮 anon

Ladies and Gentlemen, The Special Ask:

In the canon story I'm not going to include cosplay regarding clothes or wigs.

(this is because they're a college student with parents who barely support their genshin habit) 💀

Plus that shit is expensive, I think we all know Y/N doesn't have that type of money.

This question was asked by five different people funnily enough, and they were all within the same weekspan! Either the same person asked the same question but wrote it differently grammatically every single time, or that's one hell of a coincidence. Either way, I wanted to answer since it's a fun concept.

I did think about this when coming up with a plot - the Harbingers were first supposed to meet Y/N at a cosplay competition actually! But, I changed it since there would be way too many questions and too much chaos that I probably wouldn't be able to convey well :(

@fuhuaily you asked about this on the 30th of January, I've mentioned you since you didn't put on anon mode <3

Just wanted to warn people that I decided to choose Raiden Ei as the specific cosplay, which means there will be she/her usage when Y/N is wearing the cosplay. This is because Childe sees the cosplay as an entirely different person in his mind, thank you!

Childe was having a relatively normal morning.

Sure, he'd woken up with worst neck cramp he's ever experienced in his life, but he felt ready to take The Balladeer in another fight. To him, this means he's in tip-top form.

Well, he thought everything was normal until he realised that you were nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, has anyone seen Y/N this morning?" He questioned his insufferable comrades, rolling his eyes when seeing their exasperated faces when they turned to him.

"Probably sleeping in again." Scaramouche rolled his eyes in return. "That mortal sleeps later and later everyday."

"Hm. I thought they'd be crying." Dottore shrugged.

"Why?" Pierro mumbled worriedly, a sharp glare crossing his face and waiting for the doctor to explain himself.

"They had a tantrum due to their homework, not a big deal."

"They had a what!?" Pulcinella raised his voice, worry in his tone. "And you didn't tell a soul?"

"They were being a child. No, not like Childe. Ugh, that's besides the point. They were whining about biology, something about forgetting which parts of the heart were which." Dottore explained, an uninterested face present on his face.

"You ought to report these situations sooner, Dottore." Pierro scolded him.

"Why didn't you help them?"

"Jester, he did." Columbina smiled politely at her superior, a small wave gestured to get his attention. "The Decider didn't listen and ran off."

"Tartaglia, go see what they're up to. If they truly are in their room crying again it's best we force bring them downstairs for a chat." Pulcinella coughed into his hand.

"Who makes the orders, you or I?" Pierro turned to look at him.

"What are you going to do about it?" Scaramouche snickered into his hand. "According to Dottore, we're going to be stuck here. Can't tattle to the Tsaritsa now, can you?"

"Don't you start with me, puppet." Pierro glared at him, feeling all the other harbinger's gazes on the two.

"The minute we get back to the Zapolyarny Palace, I will make sure everyone is reminded why the rankings exist." He threatened.

"Ah, and the Tsaritsa will be informed of everything that takes place. I must remind you not to take things too far otherwise it will get worse for you."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. If we get back home." Childe rolled his eyes, walking upstairs after loitering at the bottom to hear the drama.

"I heard that!" Pierro shouted from the bottom.

Childe sighed and walked up to your bedroom door, the nameplate crooked and slightly dusty. He knocked on the door three times. Actually, make it a fourth. For good measure, he reasoned with himself.

"Don't come in! Who is it, and what do you want?" He heard you call out from behind the door, your voice barely discernable.

"The boss man is wondering if you're alright. He's concerned about you crying or something." He answered.

"Whaaaat?" You sarcastically shouted at the door, already recognising Griffin Burn's voice shouting from the other side. "Noooo."

"You totally were."

"Was not. Anyway, I can't come out my room right now. I'm a little... occupied with something." You called out, hairspraying the blonde wig in front of you.

"Listen, as much as I care about you being busy and personally wanting to leave you to it, it's not up for discussion. Pierro and Pulcinella don't look pleased." He rubbed the back of his neck to soothe his cramp.

"When do they not look pleased? Sometimes it seems like simply being in their presence pisses them off." You sighed to yourself, foregoing the wig you were working on and taking pictures of yourself in the mirror.

"Well, I wouldn't say that's the reason... But the way you turn their mood upside down is always funny to watch." He chuckled to himself.

"Whatever, can you leave me alone now? Tell them I can't come down right now - I'll be there in half an hour at most."

Childe felt confused with this. What could you possibly be doing that causes you to be unable to come outside your room straight away? From what he knows, you don't have any evident hobbies. Throughout the days the Harbingers have stayed in your home, you're forced to spend time with them only and answer questions they have about this world.

This is the first time you've ever done something by yourself, and from the sound of your voice, you seem to like doing it too. So much to the point that you got irritated when he tried to make you come downstairs right away. Seeing you act independant for once is a big change he wasn't expecting this morning.

He also doesn't know why, but he doesn't like this change one bit.

Ideas cross Childe's mind as he tried to guess what you could be doing. Eventually... no. No, no, no, no, no. You couldn't possibly be... No, you can't be. An hour for doing that??? If that truly was the answer you must have some impeccable stamina! Maybe the urge to have a spar with you wasn't as outrageous as he thought.

"Hmm... Okay. But, I don't know what Pierro will say to this. If only you had a reliable man on the inside who could tell him to leave you alone for now. Oh wait, that's me." He slyly pushed an idea he thought of in his head.

"What's your point? I don't like that tone of voice you're using." You rolled your eyes at the door.

"Let me in and show me what you're doing! In return, I'll defend you when we go down in an hour or when another Harbinger comes up."

"Seriously? Are you actually blackmailing me right now?"

"Blackmail?" Childe feigned a shocked gasp. "Of course not, it's just a deal within both of our self-interests."

"Riiiiight. Your interest being what I'm doing, which is very nosy by the way. And my interest is not being in trouble with Pierro. For some reason, he's always the one turning my voice against me. Ugh, I hate my life, I've been reduced to a hormonal teenager who whines and complains all the time. Oh wait, that was me years ago."

"Just open the fucking door."

"Fine, but you have to promise not to tell anyone." You gave up, putting down your phone in your hand and tucking it under one of your pillows.

"No way, did you give up that quick?" Childe spluttered.

"Obviously not. I just figured that you'd go on and on and on about it. Plus, you'll probably find out eventually if you search through all my cupboards."

Childe put his hand on the doorknob, his fingers shaking in anticipation. He was going to be the first Harbinger to enter your room, and you had no problems with that? It seems his day really is going great today!

With a deep breath, he pushed through the door, anticipating your room to be neat and tidy. However, unlike your consistent checks to make sure the house was tidy, your bedroom unfortunately wasn't.

Looking in your direction, you were kneeling on the floor with a can of something he didn't recognise in your hands. Whatever you were looking at intently looked like it was about to fall over any second, the blonde hair being propped up by a cardboard box on your bed.

"Who...? Where's Y/N, and what are you doing with that hair in front of you!?" He exclaimed, not recognising the person in front of him.

Is Childe really this shallow to not recognise me when I don't look like myself? Maybe I can use this somehow... You thought to yourself, deciding to pull a small prank.

"Daring to enter my personal chambers without my permission..." You slowly turned around, trying your best to keep you movement rigid and stoic.

"You are aware it's not the most intelligent of ideas for lower lifeforms to anger their superiors, correct?"

Childe couldn't move, he didn't recognise the person in front of him. She had purple eyes and raven hair, her plait having the same shade of purple at the tips. She wore a stone cold glare on her face which gave no hint of mercy, he figured as much considering the tone of voice she used before. The thought of her not giving him any mercy made him feel excited, has he finally found a worthy opponent to spar with in this world?

"Well, will you at least give an excuse for your blatant blundering?" You narrowed your eyes with folded arms.

"I..." Childe's eyes shook, his dull eyes shining in adoration. "I want to fight you."

Hah? Even when Childe doesn't know it's actually me, he still wants to fight me? Of course he would...

You can't actually fight him. The safest option right now would be to break character. But, this is too fun. Let's keep going.

"You disturbed my peace within my own sanctuary, and now demand things of me?" You questioned him, taking a step closer.

"Do you really wish to taste the engulfing lightning laying dormant in my blade?"

"I do." Childe nodded, displaying his own hydro blades, their glow lighting up the room.

"Very well." You nodded, unsheathing the engulfing lightning polearm you made from its custom case.

"You're not going to take my request for battle seriously? Why fight with a weapon as shoddy as that?"

"Bitch!" You broke character.

"This was my first ever prop I made myself! Apologise right now or I'll kick you out of my house!"

"Wait, Y/N? That was you all along?" Childe cautiously stepped closer, his blades disappearing with his change of thought.

"You're really... them?" He eyed you up and down, eyebrows furrowed with confusion.

"Yes, you prick!"

"How are you all purply? And the way you acted before, it was nothing like how you usually are!"

"I wanted to mess with you since you didn't recognise who I was. It's such a shame I was dressed as the Raiden Shogun, it would have been much easier if I wasn't cosplaying an archon."

"Raiden Shogun? As in the Electro Archon!?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot you didn't go to Inazuma. Well you do, but after the Traveller finishes their business there." You thought outloud. "But still, fuck you for calling my masterpiece 'shoddy'!"

"It's not even made out of metal! Good thing you'll never become a weaponsmith..." He laughed nervously, eyeing your angry strare growing by the second.

"Anyway, could you finally tell me what you're doing in here? It's not just pretending to be an Archon, right?"

"Of course not. Also I'm not 'pretending to be' anyone, I'm cosplaying." You explained, picking up your hairspray and continuing to spray the golden locks.

"...What the fuck is cosplaying?"

"It's a hobby of mine. To put it in simple terms for someone as uneducated as yourself, you dress up as fictio-- uh, people you admire."

"You seriously admire the Electro Archon? Scaramouche would have your head for that." Childe rolled his eyes, unable to hide a mocking grin.

"I don't admire her. In fact, my opinion of her is quite negative. I just find her beautiful, so, I wanted to cosplay as her." Yeah, that negative opinion of her is only due to the fact that now you have to deal with her prototype puppet bullying you both physically and mentally.

"How many of your wacky costumes do you even have?"

"Quite a lot. I recently sold a couple online because I don't wear them much anymore. I got a lot of money for it ya know?"

"Damn, so this is an actual business you've got going on then."

"Exactly. Anyway, can you get out now? I showed you what I was doing." You shooed him away with a hand gesture.

"Nuh-uh. What are you doing to that blonde hair on your bed?"

"Don't even get me started on this Navia wig. It's the last part of her outfit I need and the hairspray ISN'T STICKING. I have spent almost 15 minutes trying to still the curls and it isn't working. If I'm not careful I'll dry it out!" You complained, aggressively spraying the hair.

Childe just stared, feeling the hairspray shroud his lungs leading to him cough excessively.

"Can't you just, not do that? If it's not naturally meant to be that way why are you trying to force the hair to keep still?"

"Styling, my friend. It's because styling exists."

"Riiiiight..." Childe dragged out the vowel, accidentally mocking you from earlier.

"Wait, do you have Lord Capitano's outfit??" He asked suddenly, practically having stars in his eyes.

"Ah, no, I don't. I wouldn't be able to pull off a cosplay of him anyway. Hmm, I don't know about you, but I think he'd be overjoyed at the fact you can't cosplay as him." You answered, snickering into your hand.

"Why would I use one of your wacky costumes when I can get the real thing from the man himself?? I just have to fight him for it!" He excitedly proclaimed, running out of the room whilst shouting his name.

"Oh shit, CHILDE NO!"

Running down the stairs after him without thinking, you were greeted with the Harbingers looking exasperated at a very loud and excited Tartaglia trying to fight Capitano but just being dodged.

"This is why I keep my hobbies to myself.." You sighed into your hands, watching the scene unfold with the rest of the Harbingers.

"Decider, what did you feed him this ti--"

All the Harbingers turned to you with wide eyes, some looking confused and some (Scaramouche) enraged.

"What the fuck... do you think you're wearing?" He grumbled, voice gradually getting louder as his shock wore off into anger.

Uh oh. You forgot you were still in your full get-up... AND THE BALLADEER IS RIGHT THERE. THIS IS THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAVE HAPPENED!

"Let's calm down, and-"

"I asked you a question, mortal." His teeth clenched, stepping dangerous steps closer towards you.

"WHY ARE YOU WEARING HER CLOTHES? You could probably fool an incel like Childe, but I would never be fooled by your appearance. What do you think you're doing, pretending to be that... that.... traitor...!"

"Well, I just thought-"

"You thought wrong." He snapped. "What would possess you to dress like someone I hate? Someone you know I despise."

"Listen, you have every right to feel frustrated with the character I decided to dress up as today. I don't fault you one bit for that. But you have to understand, this was just bad luck. Of all the days I decide to wear this cosplay..." You tried to reason with him, leading to his eyes snapping open.

"You mean to tell me you do this to others? And I thought I was evil." He scoffed.

"The only people who think of themselves as evil are people who are trying to be looked at that way." You winced at his accusation.

"Except Dottore, that man is vile in both personality and hygiene."

"Genuinely shut your mouth." Dottore scratched his ear, only proving your point and causing many Harbingers near him to scoot away.

"That has nothing to do with this." He folded his arms. "You know, I've been getting sick of your attitude as of late, aren't you the one who always makes me apologise when I do something wrong? Why don't you do that for a change?"

"Hah? But I already apologised?" You muttered.

"Don't make stupid excuses. All you did was take fake-pity as if you're a friend of mine. I want you on your knees with a heartfelt apology."

Fuck that. You're not apologising sincerely to this piece of shit. Yeah, you messed up and genuinely feel bad, but you'd never tell him that.

"Uh, no thank you." You waved him off. "I didn't even wear this to torment you, I was checking to make sure my stitching was stable enough."

"So you can wear it again?"

"Yeah, for a competition. The whole point of dressing like this is to compete with other cosplayers."

"Ohhh, so that's what you were doing!" Childe pitched in, seemingly giving up with his one-sided fight.

"These competitions you speak of," Sandrone coughed into her hand politely, gaining attention. "Do many compete?"

"Yes. You can dress up as whoever you like. I decided to dress up as the Raiden Shogun because she's beautiful. Also she's popular among competitors to cosplay as, so I like the amount of competition I get by dressing up as her."

"Interesting..." Pantalone mumbled. "And these clothes are expensive, no?"

"Definitely. They can cost over a hundred if you get the entire outfit - and I'm talking about the cheaper lower-quality ones. As for me, I buy the raw materials and sew the outfits myself."

"You... made this?" Signora gaped in awe, stepping closer and feeling the fabric.

"Yes, it has potential. Have you tried clothes which aren't Inazuman?"

"Of course, I dress up as all kinds of people. I'm currently working on Navia from Fontaine. She's--"

"The President of the Spina di Rosula." Arlecchino finished for you, sipping her cup of tea. "The children stationed in Fontaine told me."

"Right, Lyney and his siblings. Yes, I remember them."

"Hm? You know of them?"

"Something like that." You laughed nervously, creeping towards the stairs.

Let's not tell her they're framed for a murder trial and almost get wrongfully convicted...

"Anyway, I'm going to get changed as per request by Scarawoosy. I'll be upstairs, and may not come down. So uh, yeah. Have fun with whatever you wanted me to do before."

You quickly ran off after that, hearing Scaramouche's shouts for you to grovel growing fainter.

"You're just going to let them run off like that?" Scaramouche looked around him, only questioning the others when feeling Capitano's heavy hand on his shoulder.

"Not necessarily." Pulcinella walked into the room, his cane supporting his slow movements. "It's an admirable skill to have, wouldn't you think so, Dottore? I'm aware you have a similar skill."

"Indeed." Dottore contemplated his words. "Although, it was only because we've lived for hundreds of years did we realise they were pretending to be the Electro Archon."

"Do not put me in the same league as Tartaglia." Arlecchino swirled her cup with a teaspoon. "I could easily tell they were pretending."

"No, you didn't see them." Childe argued. "The second I entered their room, they switched personalities and aura's quickly. Not to mention they agreed to fight me when we all know how much they hate any talk of that kind."

"So they're good onstage." Sandrone grinned to herself. "Perhaps if we asked too much of them regarding their ability they'd crack under pressure. It's certainly not perfection, but it's a close start I suppose."

"I'm very intrigued." Columbina announced, being strangely silent throughout the entire confrontation. "Although Childe is younger compared to us, we shouldn't doubt his words. He was named a Harbinger for a reason, maybe they were very convincing?"

"Ugh, out of all the people to defend me of course it's you." Childe shuddered slightly, staying quiet when noticing her intense gaze.

"My point is, we should test them and find out which people they specialise in. Heheh, I'm more focused on the amount and range of people they have in their wardrobe."

"You put forth a good point." Capitano nodded in agreeance. "Although, do you believe they perhaps have some outfits of us?"

"They better not." Scaramouche stated, walking back to the seat he once sat in moments ago. "If they had my outfit, I'd rip their hardwork to shreds." And perhaps, he'd give you the real outfit instead... after all, you still need a punishment for going behind his back and choosing her of all people to present yourself as.

"Well, if they had my dress I wouldn't be opposed. They'd finally be worthy of looking at in the eyes if so." Signora grinned wickedly.

"I want to see what else they have up there." She announced before also walking up the stairs.

"Wait for me!" Columbina giggled, running after her. "If they have my outfit, they have to put it on right away!"

"I better follow them, you know how those women get when intrigued. Besides, it will give me the opportunity to look inside their room." Pantalone pocketed his coins before also walking up the stairs, much calmer than the woman before him.

"Rooster, where is the Jester?" Sandrone spitefully asked him, a slight sickeningly amused tone in her voice.

"Working, as usual. He often tells me 'when we get back', but at this point that day might never come."

"It will come." Dottore silently warned him. "Despite what you've seen me do during the day, at night I work on a plan for the machine back. It would be oh so helpful if The Decider could help me, but why would they help me when that's practically planning their own death?"

"So, it will take longer without their help?" Capitano questioned him.

"Correct."

"Well then," Sandrone had an incredulous look on her face, not believing the stupidity of the men around her. "Why don't we just force them to help?"

"So we're not playing the 'nice guest' role anymore?" Scaramouche laughed, a laugh almost escaping his lips.

"No. I would say we can't afford that anymore." Pulcinella secretly winced, feeling his bones grow shakier every minute.

Extra:

I honestly see a Y/N who would keep up their cosplay hobby during captivity using it as a way to escape. They would dress up as other characters and imagine themselves to be them as they're not being held captive.

The Harbingers would also use this skill of yours on their enemies as bait. They'd have to assess and train you how to act like them, but eventually you'd be a spitting image of them and be the perfect trap for luring in potential assassins. Don't worry, they'd never let them actually hurt you. They've most likely shot the enemy down before you even realise the threat has turned violent.

Scaramouche, if he had no feelings for you, would definitely use the Raiden Cosplay against you. I feel he would tell you and lash out at you whilst saying everything he's always wanted her to hear but never heard him out for. It sucks for you, but it's a good stress-manager for him. As long as you play the part correctly, he won't get physically violent. Play the part poorly, and expect to become the punching-bag instead. In the little oneshot, Y/N is quite lucky it ended where it did. They should try to avoid dressing up as Archons going forward though.

[rosesradio]

So i read the ask you got about a mortal au and it got me thinking in a mortal au, what job would the seven plus nico and will have as adults in your opinion?

hm, the seven (+ nico & will) with jobs...inch resting

annabeth: the most obvious one, but architect. between designing olympus and going to that school mentioned in cotg, it seems like she's farther along in her career at 17 than i am at 21 (it's fine it's fine)

percy: i think percy would jump job to job, maybe working at a skate shop through college, then an aquarium tour guide, and then ultimately as a social worker. i've seen a lot of sweet headcanons on how he would want to help kids in rough situations that remind him of himself, and i whole-heartedly agree. (in the canon-verse, i also think he'd want to work close to camp, perhaps as a sword instructor part-time during the summer or something)

will: i can't emphasize enough how much i don't interact with will content...i have nothing against the guy lol (other than not being a solangelo fan, though that's not the fault of a fictional character), i just happen to not get into his character. that being said, i'm choosing the boring answer: doctor. specifically, a pediatric doctor, as i think he'd be really good with kids :-)

nico: this guy's unpredictable...either unemployed/Don't Ask Where He Got His Money From, a medium (guy that can commune with the dead, usually for grieving families), a freelance artist (in this economy??), or an english teacher who is every-now-&-then possesed to talk about The Nuances (just like me fr) (and again, in this economy??)

frank: zoologist... or archery coach?? [gunshots]

hazel: archeologist. depending on the mortal au's alteration of The Whole Being Dead Thing + her abilities aside, i think she would take an interest in studying history on site & through the earth

piper: why can i potentially see her as like an influencer lmaoo...but like a normal one, one that makes 45 minute long commentaries on some movie from 2004 that no one remembers, but it's so funny that people can't help but love it. i could also see her dabbling in fashion depending on her stances given the Not Like Other Girls of it all.

leo: again with the obvious, but a mechanic like his mom. i could see him making some new invention that rockets him into fame & fortune, or i could see him maintaining a comfortable living fixing things for his community. i also think he'd feature on piper's youtube channel lmao

jason: nepo baby [gunshots] uhh...this one is difficult. it's hard to say i think in part because richard himself didn't have a future planned for him. i think that he was primed for leadership for so long (whatever that may mean in a mortal au compared to that of canon), that in the event that he steps out of that space, he would feel like a fish out of water. that being said, i'm just thinking about those posts about how his fighting was underutilized in canon. i could see him being like a martial arts instructor, though he would work to approach his instructor role with kindness rather than the brutality of wolves his mortal upbringers

[annawayne]

Annaaaaaaaaaaaaaa T^T I hope you're doing alright today! Did you bake anything new recently!

For the writer's ask btw: 1, 4, 5, 8, 12, 14, 15, 23, 27 :3

Do it, tell me all about it! And I hope you have a great week :3 Thank you for blessing us with all your beautiful art and love T^T

Moon, hello (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♡

Thank you a lot for asking, and OH MY, that's a lot, but don't get me wrong, I appreciate your interest a lot T^T

Let me first tell you about baking: I baked only the plum pie recently, and it's already gone... But I plan to bake pumpkin muffins with orange cream soon :3

As for the questions:

1 - the last sentence you wrote

I've already answered this one a bit earlier here, but as I got around to answer your question, here's another sentences that I actually wrote the last one:

"I wonder, why can’t we notice… until we’ve lost it already?"

👀

4 - a story idea you haven’t written yet

Oh, I have this one story idea in my mind, based on this one art...

Can't say much without spoilering , but this story has some angsty development. Like, very angsty.

Other than this, it's also a story about how AruAni met and fell in love, so some kind of strangers to lovers, with a lot of immediate attraction and interest, all set in Switzerland, 1911.

The caption in the original post - "It was the love at first sight" - is a leitmotif of this whole story.

I've been thinking about it while working on this drawing, and I didn't consider writing it, but the more time passes - the more I think that, eventually, I'll write it...

5 - first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

Uhm... Well, I think, the chapter 10 of MYLYSW counts for now, yes? If yes, so here we are:

"How to breathe without feeling the burden of the mission to be fulfilled; how to sleep without all the images of the world through the eyes of others; how to say a word without feeling obliged to remember a promise to come back; how to look at the sun and see in it the beauty of another day borning out of the velvet darkness of the night into the golden sunrise, and not to cross out another twenty-four hours out of one hundred and thirteen thousand nine hundred fifty-five hours of defined expiration of her."

Me and my damn love for the long sentences...

8 - if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

Oh, good question! I don't really have a lot of fics, but I think I would love to write for Neverland of (Our) Desires, the Fort Salta oneshot-sequel, where AruAni are caught in feelings and have an awkward-silly conversation about their boat *adventure*, with all these emotions and feelings of having the life ahead of them and not knowing what to do with it... Oh well, oh well, such a potential 🤌

12 - a trope you’re really into right now

Hm... Honestly, I've been into Forbidden Love or Star-crossed Lovers tropes recently...

It's quite canonical AruAni, to be honest, and I just love to think about it in different AUs and canon-compliant too, so yes, I would say these ones! And here a remark, that Forbidden Love/Star-crossed Lovers don't mean that it's a tragic ending - more like obstacles and a lot of angst, which challenge the characters and their love, and how it all develops within the plot.

14 - where do you get your inspiration?

You know, I thought I had a proper answer for it, but when I started typing it, I realized, that, in fact, I don't.

If I'm totally honest - I don't think I even have something special as "inspiration". I have ideas that pop up in my mind on their own, and then, I turn them into story or a moment in the fic, but I never particularly searched for it. I suppose, it's also a consequence of my constant art and literature involving, where I read/observe/study something, so I have this almost never-stopping source of new experience and knowledge, which leads to ideas and inspiration to create my own stories/drawings.

So, I think that my inspiration is constant studying and sources of knowledge.

15 - favorite weather for writing

Answered here :3

23 - pick three keywords that describe your writing

Moon, what a question *sigh*... Let's say:

evocative, raw and poetic

I thought of what to answer you on this particular question because it's a bit difficult for me to evaluate my own writing style, but I also remembered the words I received about it (including your wonderful feedback), and I guess, it helped me to pick these particular keywords.

27 - your favorite part of the writing process

Answered here, too :3

Thank you a lot for your interest and support, Moon, I wish you all the best and take care🖤