#(but just a doodle for comparison. he will be involved in other drawings)

[loverboyfae]

another couple of spider-fae ref type drawings and a short cruelty comic

[italoniponic]

Can I request headcanons for deuce, sebek and ace getting detention because their homework had doodles about their crush like those heart initial or a chibi face on the reader or a random ass paragraph about how amazing they are (on like match homework)

𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲'𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

| Notes: Hi, anon! This was very cute to write and it has a special participation of Crewel and Trein. I managed to make each one a bit different from the other and had some fun imagining the class's subjects, especially the history one! Hope you like it! Thanks for the request <3 |

Deuce Spade, Sebek Zigvolt, Ace Trappola x gender neutral reader / headcanons / crush / reader doesn’t get too much involved / special guests: teachers + lucius / fluff / use of “you” pronouns 

Cherry’s Harvesting event 🍒 Masterlist

Detentions and Doodles

Deuce Spade might not be the smartest student in school, but no one could say he didn't try hard. Even though he made mistakes at times, he never gave up and always kept moving forward. You ended up becoming another reason for Deuce to devote himself more to his studies. After all, he wanted to impress you and show you that he could be someone worthy of being your companion for life;

A particularly tedious pharmacy class was coming up halfway through, and although Deuce spent the first thirty minutes focused on jotting down elements, measurements and druids names, at one point he started writing his initials with yours on some hearts. So he started testing the same thing on spade suits and went on a tangent;

As strange as this comparison is, scribbling initials reminded Deuce of his old days of delinquency where he sometimes marked his initials on the walls of some neighborhoods along with his gang mates. It wasn't very honorable at all but, it gave him some basic minimalist drawing skills;

In fact, scribbling the edges of the notebook was becoming an addiction over these past months. Deuce had most of his notebooks filled with your initials, of every possible size, style and shape. And it was a real ninja art considering you sat next to each other. Either he was too brave, or too foolish;

But you were such a constant presence in Deuce’s life that there was no stopping you from reigning even in his books. Like the Queen of Hearts, all paths are yours and Deuce was only too happy to serve you, even if secretly. And somehow inexplicably, you never came to suspect it. Much less the scribbles in his notebook;

Whoever saw it would think that Deuce was writing down the same information over and over again. Perhaps Ace had a better chance of finding out what it really was, so the boy never let the material fall into his roommate’s hands. However, one cannot hide this kind of thing for a long time and from everyone;

“Spade, sit down. I want to take a moment to talk to you in particular,” Prof. Crewel said when the class ended. The students were dismissed, Ace and you fell a little behind as you faced the frightened and fearful expression of Deuce who had just closed the notebook. You touched his shoulder for a moment, wishing him a quiet “good luck”;

When there was no one else in the room, Crewel approached Deuce’s place in the class and held out to him the work papers about medicinal herbs that the students handed in yesterday. ���You made a very good report, I was even impressed. But you'll have to stay in detention to copy your text again, Mr. Spade. Clean edges this time,” the professor said;

Deuce took the papers and quickly identified the problem. He was working hard on this report a week ago and on the last page, he got too distracted thinking about you. Hearts spliced into suits of Spades, your names together as if you were a couple... it was a pity that he couldn’t earn points for being so in love;

Deuce gaped, looking from his work to the teacher and vice versa. He began to imagine the consequences for the future all because of this little mistake. His high school years, his relationship with you, the professionalism, the jokes, the awkward looks. All because he didn't realize he was scribbling on a homework assignment;

“Yes, sir! I'll start copying right, sir!,” Deuce promised, rising and making innumerable reverences. He was extremely embarrassed, blood rushing fast to his face as if he were fleeing from an angry army of cards. Crewel patted Deuce lightly on the head, smiling to himself. Love at this age is really complicated.

Sebek Zigvolt wasn’t known to be so easily distracted in classes and always turned in completely impeccable homework. His gaze was always sharp as a sword, completely focused on the teacher in front of him and the teachings he was receiving. Sebek would actually like to be tutored by Lilia but, he assumed that the teachers at the renowned NRC are good enough for the job — although he detests Lucius in Prof. Trein’s classes;

But on that morning of an even particularly interesting 1-D history class, Sebek wasn’t watching the teacher or even getting annoyed by Lucius’s occasional meows. In fact, he had his eyes on his own notebook almost the entire time. What started as notes turned into a tangent of thoughts that led to you;

Oh, surprise! He was thinking of you, secret owner of Sebek’s heart — or “crush,” as Lilia taught him to speak. Sebek didn't know what to do about his growing feelings for you. What began as a simple acquaintance became an interesting friendship that evolved into something more. Passion, love, devotion. He couldn't tell;

Words weren’t enough to describe Sebek's love for you. He was very well versed in literature and poems, especially the classic gothic poems of the Valley of Thorns, so he could categorically state that a twenty-page thesis about you wouldn’t be able to fully compress or express his feelings;

Somehow, between writing down about the migratory journey of goblins from proto-Pyroxene to the Fairy Valley and sharpening his own pencil, Sebek began to draw some doodles on the edges of his notebook. He began by testing the first letter of your name in various handwriting and then began to write his name next to yours;

At one point, Sebek was one step away from finding the perfect monogram for your wedding invitation. Arts might not be his forte but, with a little practice, he managed to find a way to make his “S” marry your letter and he was very happy with the result. Sebek would look at some references later to make more arabesques — and let their vines look more like leaves and thorns than sausages;

“Mr. Zigvolt? Can you take your place for a moment?,” Prof. Trein asked cordially when the class was over. Sebek looked up from his notebook and nodded, closing his notebook quickly. The room was already empty when Sebek approached Trein’s table, Lucius was lightly wiggling the tip of his shaggy tail while on top of some paperwork;

Trein opened a folder, pulled out a bundle of stapled sheets that was Sebek's last history work. The old teacher sighed for a moment, opening on the penultimate page. “Your report on the rise of the first dynasty in the Lands of Sunshine is magnificent but...,” and on this, Trein gave the papers to Sebek. “... I'm afraid you have to complete the rest because the Ramshackle’s Prefect has definitely not participated in any of these events.”;

Sebek ran a quick glance through the middle of the penultimate to the last sheet of his work, every paragraph describing your beauty, superiority, elegance and grace, things he imagined he had thought to himself and not actually written in his own schoolwork. It was very late at night when he finished that work, too distracted and daydreaming to repair this mistake;

Trein watched Sebek’s face initially turn pale white and then turn violently red, almost going up in flames. He just dismissed the student for detention and that the deadline for delivery was until midnight. Lucius meowed in Sebek’s direction — amused by his static expression — and as he got down from the table, brushed his head against the half-fae’s leg;

“I swear, professor, by my love for the Prefect and the Young Master’s honor, that I will serve my detention properly and deliver the right work!,” Sebek promised, beating on his own chest. Trein just nodded, taking Lucius in his arms and letting Sebek fall dramatically onto his desk, desolate and embarrassed. The teacher ended up laughing with the cat himself, however. Young people in love are so energetic!

Ace Trappola — despite the first name — couldn’t exactly call himself an “ace” in school. He wasn't stupid, he just got bored easy in most theory classes and for very little, he managed to keep most of the average grades. Ace was one of those people more focused on fun or sport, things that got him moving. So no surprise that he sought any other distraction during very boring subjects;

It was one of the last classes of the morning and Ace was doodling things in his own notebook. He had put the notebook right next to him, a little tilted up, but not enough for the people at the top of the stand to see, let alone the people next to him — Deuce and you. Especially you;

While Prof. Crewel was giving a detailed explanation of the basic effects of a Belladonna-based potion, Ace kept all his concentration on drawing your face in a cuter version next to his face. It was kind of embarrassing to do that, but, he was bored and he already had every excuse up his sleeve to tell you in case you questioned him about;

Ace could tell that it was a mere joke with you or that he was just training a little for art classes. And in fact, playing around with drawing your chibi face with blush face scratches and heart eyes for him was actually making him better at it! Before they were just strange polka dots with not very articulate expressions, now they were a little more professional;

He practiced a bit how to do your hair, drawing your chibi into various hairstyles and also different card suits in your eyes like all Heartslabyul students had. Obviously Ace thought the suit of Hearts suited you perfectly. He sometimes gave a satisfied smile to himself when analyzing this;

But if you turned to him, Ace would cover the edges in the notebook with his arm and disguise the fact that he was busy drawing you. You had no idea how much Ace was in love with you and these feelings were eating him away from inside in a violent mix of euphoria, energy, embarrassment and tiredness;

Ace felt ridiculous for doing those doodles — and a little frustrated that he could come off as kind of weird. It was like he was twelve years old again, childish and clueless. To make matters worse, it was an unnecessarily dangerous situation for Ace to doodle your little faces together just as he sat next to you and in the middle of class!;

But no one had ever noticed until that moment and Ace felt relieved by it. “Trappola, I need to talk to you,” Prof. Crewel stopped Ace before he could leave the room with you and Deuce. Ace swallowed hard, worried if the professor had discovered something he did — and he didn't even know what it was to prepare an excuse. You said goodbye to him and wished him good luck;

Crewel was smiling when Ace waved back at you and turned to the professor, aware that his smile wasn't a good sign. It never was. “I'm sorry to say you're going to have to spend the day in detention to hand me your homework a little fuller and cleaner of drawings, Mr. Trappola,” Crewel showed the alchemy quiz to Ace;

Ace didn't even know how his heart didn’t stop at that moment. In fact, the quiz had some blank answers but, what was that to notice when two very well drawn chibis of you were holding hands as Heartslabyul’s leader and vice — and on top of a very angry Riddle. Ace wanted to find a rabbit hole to throw himself down and disappear;

“I… a-am… I'm going to do that... t-thank you, professor,” Ace somehow managed to answer. If he hadn't finished that questionnaire in a hurry so he would have noticed the doodles he left. Crewel chuckled a little, amused by the student's bright red face and how he tightly hid the paper behind his back. Ah, young love!

[h3nry-3mily]

Henry thoughts but I feel like my HC for him is so jank in comparison to others bc he's like. Not The robotics guy he doesn't do the engineering despite that actually being a pretty major thing when it comes to canon

And the REASON it's like that is literally just bc my Henry HC is held together with duct tape and hope since I made a lot of it up after just looking at the game lore

But yeah have some Henry (and William) thoughts:

-William handled robotics while Henry made them less nightmare fuel, Henry's talents lended themselves to character design and development. The less involved Henry is the weirder the animatronics get, which is why you can go from something cute like Freddy and Co to some freaks of nature like the human animatronics in SL

-he knows the basics though, he can preform maintenance and repair them fine but he wasn't great at building them from scratch or developing them on his own. He had lots of IDEAS but not the ability to bring them to actualization

-also had a springlocking Incident, ironically due to William's own accident making him worry for the other's safety. Thankfully it was while he was testing the suit for maintenance and not when he was in public and performing

-springlocking messed one of his legs up pretty bad, hence the use of a cane. Decorated it to make it a little more fun looking bc he kinda hated it plain. He can walk without it and preform in fredbear but it'll start hurting pretty bad if he's not careful.

-he very firmly denies having a favorite of William's kids (it is evan. He won't say it but it's evan.)

-trans!! Fat hairy trans man who's content with his body as it is! He got his tits removed but they're still kinda there just because of his build but he doesn't mind, he knows he'd look doofy if he had a fully flat chest.

-him and his wife got along well but they never really loved each other very deeply. Henry never really got over his thing with Will in college and being with his wife never made him feel the same way as that so he kinda just had those feelings on the backburner for like, years, and now he's kinda fucking weird because of it.

-t4t with wife, works out because half the reason either of them got married was they wanted a kid. Henry carried, decided he fucking hated how being pregnant felt, and proceeded to get his whole damn uterus removed as soon as possible after having charlie. She was the light of both their lives though and I don't think they let their own lacking romantic feelings affect how they raised her.

-while he was generally pretty warm and inviting interacting with guests he did not fuck around when it came to the legal and business side of things. Refused to let anything bad happen to his company, it was his child almost as much as his ACTUAL child, hence all the comments about liability and the like that come up throughout basically every game. You will not get him in trouble with your silly little injuries, no sir.

-he always enjoyed drawing springbonnie and fredbear together. Years in the future even after finding out what William did he still doodles them on occasion.

-A solid cook, I think he liked making things and then bringing leftovers over to the aftons

-physical affection above all else, he loves hugs and would pick up the kids in his arms on the regular. Mike got tired of it as he got to his mean teen phase, much to Henry's disappointment.

-got the songs from fredbears stuck in his head all the time, would hum them to himself pretty often

There's more but I can't think of anything to add rn

[xylem-3-keys]

Human Donald and Douglas

5/15/2023 Update: I have made a backstory and bio for the Scottish twins. They were first since they're my favorites. Trigger warning still. You can image the artwork in your head because I don't have the motivation to draw doodles of their past.

I'm just too excited to draw them. Have a blue version because I care about Reverend W. Awdry :'D I prefer black and will use black for my future art but still I made the blue version for Rev's legacy. 😤 ✊

NWR 1- 12 Height Comparison

Age 24

Bio

The Scottish twins have the same uniform with the same hairstyle because they enjoy impersonating each other since they were children and intend to make jokes. Despite that, they give a dirty look if anyone tries to piss them off. Both have personalities different from one another as Donald is the calmest twin but is more tempered than Douglas. He has a duck name Dilly and is super gentle towards her since they have first met. Like Henry, Donald was inspired to become gentle towards animals. Douglas is more cheerful than Donald but sometimes he gets jealous over his brother's duck. He never leaves Donald behind and shows his bravery without hesitation despite their bickering, arguing and falling out. Donald and Douglas worked together almost all the time which made both of them practical, peppery and proud of their performance to serve on the North Western Railway.

Backstory (TW // Contains torture mentions death WILL CHANGE THEIR STORY)

Raised by a loving mother and a loving father, Donald and Douglas were taught how to become great brothers to each other, be there for one another and generally be two amazing sons. When they were kids, they loved to play with each other. They loved impersonating each other and having fun wherever they went with their parents. They sometimes argue but no matter how many times, they'll always get back together. They lived a happy and normal life until their lives changed forever.

When the twins were eight at the time they went back home from school, their parents weren't there. They looked around all over the house including the backyard. Their parents weren't present which made them worry because they were always home when the brothers came back from school. Hours have passed by and there is no sign of their parents coming home. The next morning, instead of being taken to school, the police showed up at their home and took them to the police station for an interview. Donald and Douglas told them their story after being informed that their parents had gone missing. Unfortunately there are no witnesses of anything that has happened to their mother and father so they couldn't live on their own, they had to move to an orphanage. However, a private investigator was involved and was interested in adapting them. The twins were sad that they would not see their loving parents again, but they were reassured that he and the police would find them so the twins trusted the investigator and got to know him. So with that, they can still attend school and live on with their normal lives but they are still upset over their missing parents. Years have passed by and they are still not found which made Donald and Douglas lose hope.

When they turned 16, it was their time to work on the Caledonian railway. They were given a class 812 uniform and the number tags of 57646 for Donald and 57647 for Douglas. Unfortunately, they are unable to see their investigator again but he promised to end the investigation once their parents were found. Their boss or controller was ruthless, selfish, and very mean when they first met him. He ran the Caledonian railway full of guards who kept their eye on workers who dared to make a wrong move. They expected a good controller who treats their workers fairly like in other railways but what they have heard was that working class men got punished by torture methods or worst of all execution. The controller held a big grudge against them because they're identical so he ordered them to have their number tattoos on their arms just in case the twins try to play a trick on anyone or remove the number tags off their uniform. Not only they receive tattoos, they were given a torture punishment by the spinning wheel (which contained a list of torture methods: skin burning, whipping, waterboarding, denailing, dry-boarding, walling, stoning, combing, electrocution, rats, and boiling water) as Donald got the ‘waterboarding’ method and Douglas got the ‘whipping’ method. Despite their torture punishments, they were given the same room they have in the Caledonian mansion because the controller had a history of being organized on almost everything he owned. But it didn’t change the fact that they weren’t safe on the railway. The first time they got their punishment under 18 was when Douglas tripped himself and knocked the goods crates by accident, making a mess on the station. The guards forcefully took to a nearby torture cellar. Donald sprung into action to attempt to take out the guards and save his twin but he was immediately pinned down and restrained. Both tried to break free but the guards were stronger than they thought they would be. As they were both dragged into the torture cellar, both were helpless as Douglas got whipped on his back while shirtless and Donald got waterboarded. It was one of the most excruciating pain that they have ever endured in their lives. The reason why they didn’t get executed is because their boss told the twins that it was just the beginning for them. The next time one of them tries to get involved in either of them being restrained will be sentenced to death. Because they didn’t want to lose each other, they became wise enough to follow the rules and not do anything stupid that could lead them to death or suffering the same punishment. Even though they got tortured over small mistakes, they still managed to stay alive and not lose each other. But whenever their controller was having a bad day, he would take out his anger on Donald but mostly on Douglas because of his little lack of being careful and beat both of them with a cane. They couldn’t fight back because they would be sentenced to death. When one of the men told them about their boss, they found out that the controller ordered another set of twins because he couldn’t stand them making mistakes like other Caledonians did in the past and how much they looked alike. There wasn't anything they could to stop the madness. The only choice Donald and Douglass wanted to make was to make their boss pleased but they knew he didn’t care all along. Neither did the controller or boss cared about any of the working class men but treated them like garbage.

Five years later after their living nightmare on the railway, the time has come when the controller informed Donald that he’ll be heading to Sodor for the help of goods work. Douglas on the other hand was going to be executed on the same day his twin would arrive in Sodor. Douglas felt helpless at the time they heard the news. As their controller left, Donald thought of a plan to escape the railway while comforting his brother. Douglas mentioned that they’re identical and wished to get rid of their numbers which gave Donald an idea for their plan to escape. As night fell, it was time for their plan. They went to the bathroom and washed off their tattoos but because it was permanent ink, they went on washing off their last number of “6” and “7.” The numbers aren't completely washed off but it was the best they could do. Donald then told his brother to wait and went to steal a rope from the basement. They used the rope to sneak out of the window without the guards gaining any suspicion towards them. As Donald and Douglas successfully made it out of the mansion and threw away their number tags, they headed on to the nearby station and waited for the train that takes them to Sodor. It was their lucky day that the train that heads south west has arrived at the station. The twins went aboard the train and chose the option to head to Sodor as Donald entered his verification requirements. They were relieved that they escaped this nightmare for now but they still miss their parents who are still reported missing. They miss their investigator who helped them get through the education. Their goal they were focusing on was to arrive at their new destination and have Sir Topham Hatt to keep both twins but they will be traumatized by the pain they have suffered from the actions of their former ruthless controller possibly forever but they'll maybe get through it by therapy and help by new friends.

[vinyls-and-valentines]

Excuse me I would like to hear absolutely any thoughts you have on Sandkid and also do you have any Sandman art 👀

SandKid thoughts:

every time they see each other, Sandman gives Kobra a rose! They're plastic, like all decorative plants in Battery City, but if anything that makes Kobra really like them because it means they can use ink to dye them and make every one a little unique.

once they learnt how to make paper roses, Kobra began also giving Sandman roses back, which definitely was a surprise, but a welcomed one! Kobra's always used stuff like poetry or stray pages from old books that had anything that reminded them of Sandman, but later on they also folded up letters in their roses so that when they died (and not "if," like Sandman always corrected them, because when it comes to the Fabulous Killjoys there's no "if") he'd still have some part of Kobra with him.

every time Sandman laughs so hard he has to hide his face behind Kobra's arm to stop, they swear 10 years get added to their lifespan.

they have carved their initials in many places, some more hidden than the others, a tradition started by Kobra when they first took Sandman to Hyperthrust! They did it under one of the tables, as the Hyperthrust staff would've banned both of their asses forever if they hadn't, and said table became something of Kobra's table because they tend to linger about there when they miss Sandman.

sometimes they go on "proper dates," most times they just cuddle, or paint their nails together, or just talk, or generally chill because both of their daily routines involve so much going around it's just nice to not have to, and just be alone together for a little while.

they never take their knives out of their respective jackets when they're together. They still somehow end up with each other's knives in their pockets somehow.

unrelated, but important: they are both just so deadset on being the sexiest person in the re-edcuation facility. Stupid faces (affectionate).

Also, scrungly from my brain, but it's a doodle sheet because I didn't like any of my old stuff:

[Image Description: A doodle sheet of Mr. Sandman. He is a man with long black hair that reaches past shoulder blades, cut in a fringe and teased in the front in wispy strands. The first doodle shows him from the chest up, staring at the viewer with a neutral expression. He has dark, almost black, eyes with smoky eyeshadow that's black on the bottom eyelid and red with gold glitter on the top eyelid, as well as a cobweb design drawn in eyeliner off the corner of his eye. He is wearing a mesh shirt underneath a dark gray tank top. To the left, there are another two doodles, showing Sandman's face drawn in a cartoony style as he says: "Actually, I'm a really chill guy. I do talk a lot, though (embarrassed text emoji)" The other doodle shows him from behind, shirtless and with his hair tied, displaying many small star tattoos. A an arrow pointing at the drawing adds: "Got lots of star tattoos on back".

The bottom of the page is taken up by a side-by-side comparison of Mr. Sandman's regular and Dreamland outfits, shown from the front and back. On the left, it's his regular one, made up of a tank top worn on top of a long sleeve shirt, with worn low-rise jeans modified to flare out at the bottom, chains, and platform boots. His Dreamland outfit, on the right, consists of a pair of leggings, a vest and a cravat, worn underneath a long coat with cobweb embroidery on the lapels, collar and the side of the sleeves, a panel cut in the shape of a cobweb connecting the sleeve and main body of the coat, and star embroidery along his spine on the back of the jacker, as well as knee-high black platform boots. A note between the two versions reads: "Like, 5'5. Between 5'7.5 and 5'9 with boots". /End Description.]

[averykedavra]

“don’t overthink it” stfu and watch me: an analysis

this card, in the beginning of the episode, sets the tone for this episode. and it makes sense! such an unofficial video, which was very last-minute, doesn’t necessarily need a ton of context. “wherever it would hypothetically make sense” is the place of this episode in the timeline.

thomas told us that, so if we take that at face value, this could possibly take place at any time in the timeline. he also told us not to overthink this. but uh. shut your fuck. 

now, of course, this episode couldn’t possibly take place before the crofters episode. and since logan is shown still eating his jam, most people have reasonably assumed that this episode is chronologically right after crofters the musical. it may have been months in real life, but the tss timeline is separate, so it’s reasonable that this could be a post-crofters video.

and what would that mean? crofters the musical was released in april of 2018. deceit had been revealed two episodes prior, but lntao and the svs debacle was far yet to come. at first, this matches the video. it’s just the core four being friends! and they seem to get along a bit better than they would after pof.

but. “whenever it would make sense for this to happen,” as thomas said. does immediately post-crofters the musical really make sense? the more i looked, the more i found that it could be more complicated than that. in fact, i found some evidence that didn’t match up at all.

it’s likely that this all anecdotal evidence that doesn’t matter, and that i’m overanalyzing this and incorrect, but fuck it. it’s not that deep, but i can convince myself it is. here’s why i think this episode wasn’t that early on in the timeline, and my theory on what really happened.

my first hint was the whiteboard. patton doodles on the whiteboard while logan is talking, and it’s adorable, and i made a post listing all the things he draws. lots of puppies, hearts, and cute little smiley faces. and janus, peeking out from the side and saying “boo.”

which does make sense, technically? deceit did exist by crofters the musical. and he’s shown in a very sneaky, negative way, at least to some extent. he’s definitely not holding hands with the others. so that seems to line up. but then:

in one corner is remus, labeled “smelly.”

and that doesn’t add up. because remus hadn’t been introduced yet. remus was not canonically part of tss at this point. so how did patton know about him?

obvious answer is obvious, of course, and it’s that patton could easily know about remus before dwit. all the sides recognize him when he shows up for the first time.

logan: ah. it’s the duke.

of course, it does the beg the question why patton would include two dark sides but not the third, if there is a third, but that’s a realm of pure speculation. things still kinda seem to add up.

but they’re off just enough for me to dig deeper. why would patton, who barely knows janus canonically and long before dwit, include them on the board?

and then i saw this:

that’s a video game controller, drawn in green.

and again. could be a coincidence. but to me, it felt like a nod to the events of pof, with the video game theme and the green marker, a la his frog transformation. add that to remus and janus’ presence on the board? it’s beginning to look a bit more possible that patton knows more than he’s supposed to.

“whenever it would make sense for this to happen.” but it’s making less and less sense for this to happen when i thought it did.

could this video reasonably be after pof? it seems ridiculous, because the sides get along way better than they should after pof. shouldn’t roman and patton be feuding? shouldn’t virgil and patton be more snappish?

except this video, despite the lack of arguing, is extremely confrontational in other ways. they end up yelling by the end! all four of them! and their ideas, while not outright hostile, are still in contrast. more so than it appears at first.

virgil jokingly includes roman in his ad, while roman chooses logan, and logan chooses patton, and patton chooses virgil. virgil isn’t hostile to roman, besides calling him a nerd, and roman genuinely seems interested in talking to logan. but virgil is extremely on edge with patton, especially at the “kid” comparison, and bristles during the whole scene.

and that lines up with their current dynamic! virgil and patton are currently super tense, which started in embarrassing phases after virgil became uncomfortable with patton babying him. patton stopped calling him kiddo after that. embarrassing phases is after crofters the musical.

return of the jam? no use of the word kiddo, and tension when patton treats virgil like his son.

and! and yes, roman and patton don’t argue, but they don’t talk, either. roman doesn’t put patton in his ad. he chooses logan instead. virgil--who is on good terms with roman after pof--talks with roman, and logan works with patton but barely acknowledges him, acting like he wants to impress patton. these dynamics fit easily into the post-pof situation, or at least, a reasonable imagined consequence.

and.

roman: how does it feel to want?

a joke, maybe, a throwaway line. but it makes me think.

janus: everything has a purpose. and you're denying yours. you want that callback so bad, and it will crush you if we miss it.

selfishness versus selflessness.

thomas: i want to go to the callback... and now i want to lie to my friends, so they don't hate me for not supporting them. i’m a liar.

selfishness versus selflessness again.

thomas: i don’t know when i’m going to know what i want again.

flirting with social anxiety.

roman: i so, so badly want this. i’m desperate for it.

flirting with social anxiety.

roman: you wanted to go to that callback more than you wanted to support your friends. the blame falls to me. if you are missing that do-gooder drive, i think it's because i'm in the driver's seat. and i'm an awful driver.

putting others first.

and, uh, i’m pretty sure i see a common thread. roman mentioning “wanting” like that? roman being so focused, in the jam episode, on “giving the people what they want?” roman consumed by this narrative of give and take? roman in a car?

okay, the last one’s a stretch, but my point still stands! this fits into roman’s characterization! this episode could have been after putting others first!

and then that begs the question: where’s janus? if him and patton are friends in-timeline, why isn’t he here? well, i made a post awhile back about the sunflowers and quote in patton’s house, which i chose to believe meant it was janus’ house.

and yeah, it’s a ridiculous theory, but also? if this is post-pof, it would actually make sense for patton to be in janus’ room.  or to subconsciously put reminders of janus around him. the ads are about what they want, right? what they’re comfortable with? if patton and janus are friends now, or at least on better terms, it makes sense that patton would include a hint or two of janus in his ideal scenario.

oh, and there’s one more drawing on the whiteboard i want to point out. as patton is rushing to scribble down logan’s words, more doodles are added to the whiteboard. including this:

of course, it’s hard to tell, but to me that looks like a face with swirling eyes. drawn in yellow. and maybe it’s just representing patton’s overwhelmed feelings--but maybe it references something else entirely.

my first thought? it reminds me of hypnosis or mind control. and if it’s referring to janus controlling patton, why would patton draw that? except: this is the imagination. maybe patton doesn’t control everything. maybe roman does.

roman, who after the events of pof, could reasonably believe that janus manipulated or controlled patton.

and the yellow eyes aren’t the only hint at janus! an interesting thing throughout the whole video? everyone’s extremely blunt. i can’t name a single time someone blatantly lied in the whole video. and yes, it’s super short and fluffy, but that’s still notable! the closest thing to a lie? logan’s line near the end.

patton: we have to say the thing!

thomas: oh! yes, we do! Logan?

logan: i don’t even know what you’re talking--crofters. the only jelly i will put in my belly.

cute moment, right? but logan starts to lie, then cuts himself off before he finishes the lie. like he doesn’t want someone to hear, or he isn’t allowed to lie. throughout the whole video, no one ever completes a lie.

“but,” i hear you cry, “isn’t the whole thing technically a lie? since they’re creating false realities?” well, yes, and also no. to use the series’ definition, acting is not lying, because everyone involved knows that it is a false story. this episode mirrored the am i original episode, in which creating scenarios fell under the realm of “brainstorming.”

which, again, was canonically roman’s idea. and roman’s power to do.

roman: i ask you this, thomas: allow me the chance to really prove myself! grant me full creative control!

thomas: you're my creativity. you have all the creative control.

virgil: no, he’s talking about full-on daydream mode.

the crofters episode is extremely similar to daydream mode. @limitededitionsanderssidesblog​ even pointed out that roman is the only side who has no animated transition between his ad and the others, showing that he is in more control of the imagination than the others are.

except logan begins the daydream sequence, not roman.

roman even acts upset about this later on, when he takes control of the brainstorm to try his own advertisement. “i’ll show you how it’s done,” he tells virgil, “like i was meant to from the start.” why was he meant to create an advertisement from the start? and then, why didn’t he? why didn’t roman start the imagination sequence?

or maybe he did, and we just didn’t realize.

every conversation the sides have with thomas is, in actuality, imaginary. thomas is sitting on his couch with his eyes closed, like janus pointed out. so there’s a certain level of suspension of disbelief that every episode starts out with. they conjure stuff, create scenarios, interject in the shape of text boxes--you just have to get used to it.

but there are these small details, if you look closely and discount the imagination factor, that don’t add up.

logan starts out the episode eating a jar of crofters jam. (disgustingly, i might add. my man cannot eat jam correctly.) he eats almost the whole thing, then shows up in the next frame with another jar of jam, uneaten.

as logan talks, patton scribbles on the board and tries to write things down. the whiteboard, like i said earlier, gains a few doodles as he continues. we don’t see him pause to doodle at all. we barely see most of the colored markers that he’s used. and he starts with a doodle-covered whiteboard, despite the ad only just starting, but seems to write everything by hand.

nobody is driving roman’s car. it backs up when roman wants it to, and accelerates when he wants it to, but he isn’t the driver.

virgil is relaxed, but he has deep, deep eyeshadow.

logan is excited when there will be more logansberry, but he just finished eating some, and he can summon more. it’s reasonable for him to be excited, but the chronology falls apart if this is close to crofters the musical.

everyone knows what everyone else did in their ad. thomas is aware of everything, but is able to call crofters and negotiate with them while not paying attention. all the sides change the scene at will. in am i original, they all participated at once, and only roman could change it back.

thomas calls crofters in like three minutes and confirms the offer. he doesn’t show up in the imaginary ads. he doesn’t try to stop them from arguing. it almost feels like he doesn’t exist at all.

and on their own, each of these can be easily explained. together, well, they probably can still be explained. but. these little inconsistencies fueled my growing theory.

this episode takes place “whenever it would make sense for it to happen.” it’s after crofters the musical, except it might not be. it’s an am-i-original-style brainstorm, except it doesn’t work the same. all the sides are friends, except they aren’t.

“whenever it would make sense for it to happen”? well, what if it didn’t happen at all?

there are so many little inconsistencies in the timeline. there are so many odd background details. there are so many questions, because if we don’t take this fluffy unimportant video at face value, it becomes harder and harder to understand it. it’s a short ad for jam. and in-universe, it makes no sense.

except it’s an exploration of imagination. it’s roman’s world. and roman, the brainstormer, the creative side, can make anything look like it really happened.

patton: you try to come up with a perfect commercial when you’ve got an extreme teen to deal with.

virgil: pat, none of that was real.

what if roman made the scenario up from the start? what if roman never had to start or end the imaginary segments because all of it was imaginary? because he was in control the whole time?

this episode makes the most sense after pof. roman may have placed swirly eyes on patton’s whiteboard. roman wanted his own jam. roman wanted a comforting, happy scenario, where all his friends got along and liked him. roman has control over the imagination.

but why would roman drag the other sides into it? they aren’t all fake, since they interact without roman there--right?

characterization is a tricky, tricky thing. and to me, none of the sides acted extremely out of character. but patton disagrees vocally with logan, logan is dorky and excited, and virgil is so confident that he reminds me of roman in points. none of those are ooc necessarily. but they’re interesting.

and this entire episode is wish fulfillment for roman, in a way. it’s all about putting up appearances. it’s about doing what the people want and making them like you. it’s about an almost too perfect video where everything ends up fine even when things slip out of control in the middle.

don’t you think that would be roman’s perfect refuge? his own jam, his own ad, and even when the sides irritate him, it all comes back to him in the end. no consequences. just roman, on his own.

because fuck it. what if roman imagined the whole fucking thing?

“whenever it would hypothetically make sense for what’s about to happen, to happen.” the episode itself comes with a justification. it isn’t really canon compliant. it doesn’t fit with the timeline. but it has echoes, echoes of the world and the universe it’s trying to forget about.

roman gets so frustrated when the other sides mess things up. he was meant to take control from the start, he says. the episode ends suddenly. the episode is short and sweet and, in a way, too good to be true.

it’s not hard to imagine roman retreating to a fake scenario after pof. going full brainstorm mode with imitations of his friends and giving himself everything he’s wanted. and i think it’s sweet and sad that he didn’t just give himself a jam. he gave all of them a jam. he made a world where all his friends were happy.

a world where all his friends were happy with him.

and i know this is basically the plot of all i want is serenity. but shut your fuck. i make canon and canon is mine for the taking.

it’s a wild theory. it’s probably not true. but given all the strange contradictions and deeper implications of this episode, it’s at least a theory i can back up with evidence. i can convince myself of it, and that’s good enough for me.

the return of the jam doesn’t take place in canon, in or out of the tss universe. it’s a fluffy side adventure in roman’s head, where he keeps everyone from lying and tones down the fighting and makes up a video where he gets what he wants. roman doesn’t need to start or end each scene. he’s directing the whole fucking play.

and where does he end up at the end of the episode? unconscious on the floor, smiling to himself, saying that he’s got his own jam.

it’s almost an identical position to dwit, when remus knocked him out. and based on roman’s sleep-talking, we know while he was unconscious, he dreamed. he can make things up in his own head. he can indulge in a fantasy or two. he can create detailed, personal brainstorms that nonetheless fall flat in important, logical ways.

i’m not saying that roman did make this whole episode as a comfort after pof. i’m not saying that he did imagine a scenario where he finally got his own jam. i’m not saying that he did imagine his friends happy, joking, and supportive. and i’m not saying that he did fail to fully imagine that, because he lost control, because he couldn’t convince himself.

i’m not saying any of that.

but i’m saying it’s a pretty fun possibility.

[marshmallowprotection]

Saeran’s Passport Package

I’ve been waiting since the 19th to get my hands on this baby and I’m glad that it got here today. It took me a little bit to sit down and go through everything cause I wanted to cry about it the entire time. 

Spoilers Ahead, everyone. So, if you’re not interested in seeing what’s in the Passport set AFTER the events of Saeran’s After Ending, then do not click Read More, got it? I’ve made it clear to you. I will say that it’s worth the money if you’re debating buying it. 

So, we can go over the contents in the box, first as an overview. You receive a letter stamped with a cute sticker as well as the passport itself which holds the notes that Saeran’s been taking and drawing since this all started. I just think that’s cute. My brain said don’t open that passport until we review the letter first so, why don’t we go over the letter first? The little details are really cute. There’s just so many stamps on this baby. 

The little touches are what sell it. You’ve got this man putting his love all over it and there’s a CUTE NOTE of CATS. Sir, was that a touch to Saeyoung? I know you know that your brother is a dork. Homage to brother who is an idiot but too glaringly obvious. It got a chuckle out of me. I know this man, and it’s just getting to me. 

The passport itself is also really cute. It has the art from the promo banner but instead of everyone hustling around together, there’s new poses and all of that jazz. Jaehee isn’t rushing around. Zen’s got a selfie stick, no surprise on that front. Jumin just chilling. Seven and Yoosung... doing what they do best and you know it. RUN, YOOSUNG, RUN.

Saeran and MC... being cute on the inside made me go, “Aw!” Ice cream. They can really just put ice cream and it’s going to make me cry, huh? Really? Is that how easy this is? Am I a joke to you, Cheritz? Is that what this is? 

Now, if you want to talk about the contents in the letter, you get this sheet that is listed in three languages, surprised me, Korean, Spanish, and English, and it lets you tick off little things that you like to do. An itinerary sheet. I feel like this is purely Jumin crafting these. It asks about Cats. Literally. Cats. Wine? Yeah, this is on Jumin. You always come in flex, Jumin, but oh boy, I’m chuckling over here at these little touches. 

You get 2 boarding passes. One with Saeran’s name and one with a blank to fill in your name. I thought that was cute. Tying in that with the CG of the passes in the game with this just makes it more real to me. I’m holding this in my hands and it just makes my immersion feel much more real than it did when I was holding my phone in my hand and playing this out. 

I think merch like this just makes you feel more apart of the story then you do when you’re able to talk and chat, you know? If you really like feeling like you are involved with the game, this is how you do it. You wanna know how I know that Jumin is the one setting this up with Saeran? Flip over the fucking passport and you realize that Elizabeth is on the back.

I’m still laughing. 

I’m trying to imagine this and now, like, I’m starting to see why Jaehee is so damn tired because Elizabeth really is on everything that he can get his hands on and she’s good too many files to sort through when it comes to whatever the photographers take of her. Jumin can’t take photos. He’s either got Jihyun to do this for him at some point, or he’s straight up hiring photographers for her cause he can’t do it. 

I mean, we all know that Jumin will put Elizabeth everywhere but I just— It’s on the BOARDING PASSES? JUMIN! 

There’s also a postcard within the letter that is once more, written in all three aforementioned languages. Saeran says that it feels like a dream when he is with you, like this is where he’s always meant to be. His promise of happiness is made truest when he’s with you. I teared up a little. I know that he means well when he does that but damn, does it take an arrow to the heart every single time he does it. 

Saeran put a lot of thought into this in a very short amount of time. I know that he did this plan likely with the idea that he may not be able to go with us but he wanted us to be able to see the world for him. You know, how he implied that he wanted Saeyoung to see things for him? To live for him? Even if he was dead, he wanted Saeyoung and the player to be happy and free. 

The blurred state on those... doesn’t have names. It doesn’t name Saeran in this photo. 

The implication of his sacrifice with the boarding passes kind of hurts because this is a side note of the fact that Saeran Did Not Know If He Would Live To See This Through. He made it thinking maybe.. if things worked out, it would be an okay future, but this was... God. I just. I’m thinking about the weight of the AE and what that felt like. I almost glossed over the Boarding Pass because I was just so upset with him.

I’m the type to try to sacrifice myself for others, too. I have that in common with Saeyoung and Saeran. 

I think that we’d argue over who should die for the others and while that’s macabre, it’s just the kind of people that we are. We love these people so much that we’re willing to die if they’re safe and sound. Knowing that, I understand what Saeran tried, and even what Saeyoung tries, but it’s hard cause I want to make sure they’re happy in comparison to myself. 

This is where being selfless is a bad thing. 

Does anyone know what a big deal it is for Saeran to have a passport? He’s never had an ID or paperwork in his entire life. If he did, he would’ve been killed, so would his brother. They’re both never had IDs. Unless you count the ones from the Agency and Mint Eye. They’ve got them in the Believer box with their names and faces, but that’s not official. That’s not paperwork that everyone else has. That’s just... 

You know? 

Seeing this tangible thing in my hands is a testament to Saeran Choi being alive and thriving. He’s not afraid of showing his face. He’s living. He’s a free man and nobody can kill him for existing. Does that not weigh on anyone here? It hit me and I wanted to cry. I might break down thinking about this later because I just take this too seriously. Look at him. Look at HIM. Okay? Did you look? Now, LOOK AGAIN.

Okay, I’m not going to share every single page inside of the passport but I will give you little snippets of the journey ahead and show you what he writes and draws. Yes, he’s drawing. I knew that he was talented because he is great at doodling and drawing, but he knows how to have such a cute style that I want to gush about and he probably has no clue about how cute it is because nobody’s ever told him!

Okay, so the trip is broken up over a few months and into segments. You know how I was surprised by the 3 languages? Yes, this passport is written in three languages and it stays that way. It implies that Saeran knows English and Spanish, or at the very least, he’s been studying them, I get that it’s kind of a neat tie in to make sure that all languages are included but I only English and I can only read Spanish, I suck at conversational Spanish, so I could only read the English and Spanish sections. 

So, if anyone wants to throw in what the Korean segments say, please do. I have a rough idea, but it’d be nice to know. The first segment of the trip is spent traveling over Korea. You see the things that he packed in the bag! 

I almost had a heart attack because I thought the vitamins were Caffeine Pills. I was about to beat my Husband and make him go to bed. Thin ice, Saeran. Thin ice, the Special Believer package implied you take more then ten and I want you to go the fuck to sleep at night. 

He packed his hanbok! Look! You remember? From the title screen event? The blue shirt is the one that he matches with MC in. There’s so much I’m screaming about it. 

It shows you things that you do. Like, biking, karaoke, gardens... is there a locket bridge in Korea? You know? If you put them together on a bridge, it’s said that your love lasts forever. I forget where that came from but I guess there must be one in South Korea, too. Oh, and food. Can you believe that he can eat whatever he wants now? I’m sobbing. 

Please. 

HE’S IN HANBOK. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.

Okay, here’s the thing. I only have one gripe with the Passport Package and I’m going to say this again at the end, but I really wish that they had included big photos for this because the Passport itself it rather small and I wish that I could have bigger photos of this. It’s my only complaint. Literally, it’s the only thing I have to say about the box that will affect my rating. Look, we’re doing cheesy couple stuff! 

HE’S DOING THE HEART THING WITH HIS HANDS.

A KISS. 

KISS.

GUSHING.

DYING. HELP. ME. 

God, I wish I wasn’t broke. I would commission someone to do this for my MC. 

The second and third portion of the trip are spent in the U.S.A. and Mexico, I was so surprised by that! New York and Hawaii specifically are what they name and I was. Well, those are really far apart, huh. I mean, those are very popular spots. I’m not surprised. I’m chuckling because he’s got matching outfits. 

Saeran Choi, you really want the embarrassing couple look, don’t you? Well, if it’s for you, I’d do it. Did... Saeyoung or Jumin set us up, are we fucking loaded? There’s mad bank here. 

Saeran and MC basically are living per Jumin and Saeyoung, to be honest, because Saeran’s never had a job and MC is... your MC literally agrees to go and test a game in the woods, how good can our lives be? I’m broke, boy. I ain’t got nothing. So, I like to think that those two are offering to let Saeran be as happy and free as he wants. No expense. Like, kindness. The RFA is too damn much, I’m gonna cry. I’m starting to understand why the RFA didn’t hear from us for months. 

The final Check-In with the RFA is set 6 Months after the events that take place when we save Saeran. The events of this Passport cover 3 months. So, we go back to Korea after this adventure and met up with Saeyoung, because we know that we’re hanging out with him in the conclusion. So, if they haven’t really heard from us, that means that we’ve been traveling more with him. 

I kind of like that. 

We’re spending time with Saeran alone and time with the brothers together, and that’s sweet! I love that. I need to write more about it. 

I’m trying not to laugh about this Mexico portion but it looks like he passed out from an ice tea... lemonade...? It’s surely not alcohol. Maybe too much sugar, I know that crash can hurt. I’ve been there. I just know that you’re not implying the man with alcohol trauma is gonna drink. Nope. Neither he nor Saeyoung ever will do that. I stand by that statement and I’ll die by that statement. Bite me my tongue if I’m wrong, but I stand by that. 

Saeran is at least mindful of the sun. He’s also made notes that the perfect time for sunset is 18:34. Cute. He notes that it’s time for the Day of the Dead as well, so that’s fun!

IS THAT A FUCKING V CACTUS—

TWO V CACTUS—

There’s actually a portion in here where he asks you certain questions and you have the space to fill in it. I like that it’s interactive. 

Do you have favorites sweets? Are there things about yourself that you hide? Did you make sure to ask Santa what you wanted? I’m wheezing. The food doodles are one thing, and the Christmas photo is one thing, but he really drew himself as a butterfly and the MC as a bug catcher. 

“CATCH ME, MC.” 

Help me. 

I’m laughing so hard.

Saeran, you fucking goofball.

And, the last page of the passport is us assumedly returning home with all kinds of trinkets and gifts. Flower crown, snow globe, cactus, hats, listen, there’s a lot of details in this photos that I really wish I could have it blown up. 

That’s really my only complaint about the Passport Package. I really want to have bigger photos that are shared. I wouldn’t have minded if it was the photo of the final CG in the game, or the Christmas photo, I really would have enjoyed getting that to have for myself. 

You know? The passport itself is roughly like 5 x 7 or so, so while it’s not big, it’s still like. I would love to see the details blown up. It’s smaller then the diary, that I know for sure. I think it’s the only thing stopping from giving Cheritz a 10/10 on this item. 

I’m going to have to give them a 9.8/10 simply because it feels like we are lacking one big photo. 

I guess I’ll print my favorite CGs and decorate my room like that. But, all and all, I really enjoyed reading this and it made it feel like I was there and I was able to reflect on Saeran’s vacation with the player. Like, he was doing this as we were going using his little doodles... I’m in love with this fucking sap. I’d say that this is worth the money. 

For sure. 

My only gripe aside. That’s a personal problem, not really a content problem. I love this bastard. 

Look at him, he’s GOT A PLUSHIE. I have so many things that I want to write about now thanks to this. Saeran, darling, sweetie, my love, I am dying. Either way, I’m glad this arrived when it did. I needed this. I justified getting this for myself because I don’t expect to get anything for my birthday in early February but I’m happy I have him.

It’s been five years since I found this game in August 2016. I’m happy that it’s been here with me. 

[asirensrage]

i...might be a little addicted to your writing. especially aos and tammy thompson...i’m too shy to go off anon for now, but i’m thinking abt making some doodles abt aos

so i have some questions

1. what kind of glasses does amelia have—?

like what shape..

and out of curiosity, are they prescription? if so, why she got em?? (like, reading glasses or is she far/nearsighted—)

2. how tall is she?? particularly in comparison to eric..

3. and, like, idk, body shape? like, is she a slim bean? or like, curvy? chubby?

4. this might be weird cuz her hair is always in a bun (as far as i can tell—unless eric is involved) and idk how to word this but what hair...type..?

like, curly/straight/frizzy??

how long is it when it is down?

5. does she have any sort of other identifiers?

like moles or freckles or scars, maybe? birth marks? stretch marks?? i’d ask abt tattoos but pretty much all her thoughts and interactions w/ dauntless have answered that for me

6. bear with me here, but, ik she wears blue and dresses formal-like but exactly what’s that mean to her?

like, does she wear pants?? or just skirts? heels?? dOes sHe wEar a bOw tiE— i have no concept of formal wear since i always work from home and rarely interact with people, even outside of pandemics✋😔

what abt casual wear??...does she even have any? does she have pajamas?? does she ever even use them—?

stray thought: eric stealing her laundry..eric stealing her clothes and bringing them to his place..eric replacing them with his clothes...eric being a creep with her panties— (i’m so sorry)

7. this is totally unrelated to appearance, but...has amelia even had sexy timez with anyone other than eric?? consistently?? does eric kNow—and is that person still alive if he does

sorry for bothering you!! feel free to take ur time to answer, or just not answer at all. or answer in bits and pieces. idk. this isn’t mandatory for me to be able to draw her (although it’d help w accuracy) and there’s probably a bunch of stuff that you already wrote in the book—i’m just bad at picking out details, especially since i’ve been off my meds whoops

if i do draw stuff, i’ll (eventually) crawl off anon and show you! <3

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 I really just want to send you all the hearts just for how long this is and telling me you’re addicted to my writing. Omg. Thank you!!! I don’t mind if you’re shy and I absolutely love art (especially of my characters. that is so sweet). I promise I’m not scary despite what I write, lol. You’re welcome to message me anytime.

I just saw this now (tumblr notifications are terrible with me), so let me answer your questions: 1) Glasses. I see them as rectangular shaped, not very large but also not tiny. She wears glasses because everyone in Erudite wears glasses lol, but they’re most likely blue light glasses considering how often she’s looking at screens.

2) How tall is she? About average height. She wears low heels or flats (flat if she’s going to Dauntless). Compared to Eric, she’s tall enough that when she’s resting against him (as they stand together) her forehead can rest on his upper chest. I hope that helps. 3) Body shape. I imagine Amelia fairly slim, like some curves but not many, simply because the girl is running around everywhere. The stress of her life and being afraid to be found out limits keeps a lot of weight from actually sticking (add in her missing meals lately...). She also has to keep up appearances as Jeanine’s assistant (like I said, lot of stress). 4) No weird questions, don’t worry. It is always in a bun. I never considered length aside from long enough to put in a bun lol. I imagine it’s about shoulder blade/mid-back length. Unlike Tammy or my latest OC I’m working on, her hair is pretty straight, though probably a little wavy simply from the bun.

5. Any other identifiers? I don’t think so. Definitely no tattoos but this version...probably small scars on her hands from paper cuts and early experiments she did as a kid with her father. Faint though. In another version of her, she’ll have a scar on her arm, but not in AoS. I didn’t think about birthmarks...maybe I should? (she doesn’t get enough sun to freckle lol) 6. Clothing! Great question. She’s often found in business formal wear. Suits (usually with a skirt, sometimes pants), pressed shirts and occasionally a dress. As before, she wears low heels or flats now because of walking around a lot after Jeanine and going to Dauntless. omg bow ties! That’s amazing and I love it. I totally understand the issue of visualizing it (I work from home too rn). Casual wear I see as more pants and less formal shirts, though still nice because she represents Jeanine and everyone knows her. But does she have pyjamas? Yeah. On her own, she has like an actual set. Stuck in Dauntless with Eric, he prefers she wears nothing, but she’ll wear his shirt. Stray thought: Eric definitely has stolen things from her apartment. We know he’s added books, he steals a picture. Clothes...well exactly what he’s done will be discovered later in different circumstances. 7. Amelia has had sex before. Does Eric know exactly who it is? No, (which is the only reason they survive lol). Eric chooses to ignore this. It doesn’t matter who was before because it’s only going to be him now. You are definitely not bothering me. I love people asking questions. It helps inspire me to write lol. I don’t mind you asking. Some of it (like the scars) are things I haven’t really thought about so it’s great because now I have! :D Thank you so much for reaching out and for asking me all this stuff! I was so excited to see your ask! I hope you don’t feel any pressure (though I will be crazy excited if you decide to share it). Thank you! For this, for your support and for being you! <3

[stuck-in-hawkins]

Their First Fight

Jonathan got his things as quickly as he could.  Having photography class as his last subject of the day was both a blessing and a curse.  He was always the last to clean up, wanting to use up every second he could.  Jonathan had been elated at the prospect of staying late on days where the lab was open after school.  He had hoped to build up his portfolio to apply for colleges and some local papers.  

But, how could he now?  He couldn’t tell Will and El to walk home.  Not with those thugs from the locker room on the prowl.  There was a hope that maybe they would find a club or a group to belong to, the way the party had been for them back at Hawkins.  But in the meantime, he was responsible for their safety and couldn’t risk staying late.  He threw his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the parking lot.

When he got there, he saw Will and El leaned over and listening to the Walkman.  

“Hey guys.  You have the keys, you could just listen to the radio and save the batteries.” He tried to sound lighthearted but he could tell by the look in Will’s face: the day had not gone well.

“Is everything okay?”  Jonathan regretted asking the moment the words left his lips.  It obviously wasn’t.  And that question only ever got the blanket statement:

“Yeah. Fine.”  It came from Will.

You can read on ao3 here or below. 

El flicked her eyes over.  

Jonathan realized how red and puffy they were.  “That bad, huh?”

Will crossed his arms and turned towards the window.  Will knew it probably looked childish but he didn’t care.  Everything was still too close.  He felt like if he talked about it, he would explode and either end up yelling or crying.  He had been fine for a moment, comforting El had been comforting to him.  She looked to him for answers.  She was the only one who did that.  Everyone else would try to solve things for him and that just made him feel pitiful.

Jonathan looked to El.  “How about you, El?  Give me the highlights.”

“Highlights?”

“The best part of the day.”

El blinked for a second.  In truth, it had been being comforted by Will.  Some wall had been brought down.  She was really beginning to feel like a sister to him.  She felt hopeful and less alone.  He was going to help her get her powers back.  Or, at least, they were going to try.  But she didn’t want to share it, not when Will was so tight lipped.  She didn’t want to ruin what they had now.

“Leaving school.”

Jonathan’s shoulders sagged and looked at them both.  He realized there was a line, a distance, that he couldn’t close.  He turned and started the car.

Will saw El look over at him, pleadingly.  She saw the hurt.  She always did.  

“Lunch was the highlight.”  He mumbled.  “My art teacher wants to help me make a portfolio for college.”

Jonathan looked back, “Are you serious?  That’s amazing!  My photography teacher offered to help with mine, too.  He said that they look for variety but it’s good if you have a niche.  But you already seem to have one with those characters.”

Will looked at his hands.  “Those aren’t going in my portfolio.  They’re just doodles.”

Jonathan looked back in the mirror.  He could see the light inside his brother dimming.  Moving out here had stolen something from him.  The security he had among his friends, even through their troubles.  Jonathan used to be able to pull Will out of those dark places, the dark thoughts.  He used to be able to reach him.  But now he couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried.

The car was quiet.  Jonathan filled the silence with the radio, and wondered when Will had shut him out.

_____________________________

Once they got home, El and Will went to his room to do homework. Jonthan preheated the oven and got the chicken out of the fridge.  He had prepped it in a baking pan the night before, so all he had to do was throw it in.  Joyce was trying to teach him some basic meals before he went to college.  

Saying, “I don’t want you having eggs and canned soup for every meal.”

Jonathan started tidying up around the kitchen when he realized that they were out of dish cloths.  

He called down the hallway, “Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan made his way over to Will’s room, “Can you throw some of the dish cloths in with your laundry?”

Will threw down his pencil.  Among the things he hated about the apartment was its lack of a washing machine.  They had to go downstairs to the communal laundry machines.  He rubbed his eyes for a moment and sighed, trying to push away the annoyed feeling.  Bright side.  He told himself.  He grabbed his sketchbook, library book, and Walkman.  He would at least be out of the apartment.  He could just sit and draw for a bit.  Maybe work on something for his portfolio.  Or maybe just draw out some more creatures.  He had gotten a book from the library on special effects from different monster movies and he had been copying some of the concept art.  

He threw them in his backpack and started grabbing piles of laundry.

The evening fell into a familiar pattern.  Jonathan got the remainder of dinner ready and checked El’s homework.  When Joyce got home, she was tired and felt gross from a day of cleaning houses.  She poured out her gratitude for Jonathan, though feeling like it was never enough.  Then she excused herself to get washed up before dinner.  Will came in lugging the clean laundry and setting it in his room to be folded later.

Dinner involved a dance that El had caught onto by now.  It was a lot of smiles, even if they were forced.  All of them pretended to be happy to spare the other, even though she could tell they were all sad in their own ways.  The conversations were lighter, only the best things from the day, the “highlights.”  

“How was your day, El?”

“Good.  I like the book from English class.”

Will cut in, jokingly, “You like The Old Man and the Sea?”

She straightened, and her eyebrows furrowed a bit.  She was being called on to defend her book, much like the squabbles she had seen the party engage in: which movie was the best, the better comic book character, the better writer.

“It’s a good book,” she stated.

“All he does is talk to himself.”

“That’s what I like.”  She thought a moment, “You hear his thoughts.  It’s quiet but…” she searched for the right word, “meaningful.”  She settled on.

He shrugged.  “It’s easier to read at least.  I’m not reading the same line 40 times.”

“Just wait ‘til you get to Charles Dickens,” smirked Joyce.  

Will clasped his head in his hands.  “Don’t remind me.”

El enjoyed these bantering moments.  In the woods, before Hopper found her, El used to daydream about what it would have been like to be part of Mike’s family.  If everything they had wished had come true: if Nancy had been her sister and Mike her not-brother.  What their dinners would have been like, something she had only glimpsed at but wished for so desperately.  Now, she finally had it and,as grateful as she was, she hated what it had cost her.  

She wondered how long it would take for the dinner happiness to stop feeling like pretend.

Joyce insisted on cleaning up dinner and El volunteered to help.  She tended to be attached at the hip to Joyce when she got home.  Will went to tackle the clothes.  Jonathan walked over to his room, “You need some help?”

Will shook his head, holding one sock.  “You cooked dinner.  It’s fine.”  Will tried to find the other to match.

Jonathan picked the other up and handed it over.  “It’ll go faster with two.”  

Will shrugged and the two started folding.  Jonathan racked his brain for what to say.  It used to be so easy.  But these days, there was a divide and he felt like he was walking on eggshells, like he could never say anything right.  

“Hey, Will?”

“Yeah?”

Jonathan took a deep breath and hoped that what he said would help, “I know that going back today was rough.  You don’t need to tell me why.  I just want you to know that, I’m here.  Okay?  You’re not alone.  And I know that school feels like a nightmare right now but you just need to find your pack, and I think you will here.  It might be with art class, or something else but you’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.  Thanks.”  There was sharpness in his words, a knife’s edge in his stance.  He snapped the jeans as he folded them and his lips were tight.  

They folded in silence.  Jonathan didn’t know what he’d said but he decided not to press, despite the urge.  

After a moment, Will asked, “Is that what you did?  Did you ‘find your pack’?”

“Well, I’m trying-”

“Because it sounds to me like you’re talking out of your ass.”

Jonathan was thrown.  Will had never taken this tone or swore at him.  It felt surreal.  

The floodgates had opened up and Will couldn’t stop himself.  “You don’t know that the people in this town won’t be ten times worse than Hawkins!”

Jonathan snapped back, “Oh, I’m sorry, are you comparing them to the flayed?  Because I think they stand a pretty good shot in comparison.”

“I’d have taken my chances with them all over again if it meant I could have been with my friends.  It took me YEARS to make those friends and I lost them.  And what?  You think I can just make more?”

“I wasn’t trying to say it was easy-”

“Yes you were!  You made it out like I am some socialite.  Like I’ll just turn around and make new friends!  When you don’t know SHIT about that!  You don’t have a friend in the GODDAMN WORLD!”

“I have friends, Will!”  Jonathan couldn’t believe he was going on the defensive against his little brother.

“You have family, not friends, and a girlfriend who’s a thousand miles away!  You don’t know JACK SHIT about meeting new people!”  

That struck a nerve, and a resentment bubbled up that he had always buried.  “You ever think that maybe you have something to do with that?!  That maybe I missed out on that because I spent all my time babysitting you?”

“I NEVER ASKED YOU TO!  I don’t want you to!  I just want you to LEAVE ME ALONE!”

“Fine!  Wish granted!”  Jonathan stormed out and Will slammed the door.  Jonathan stood there with ugly feelings on his chest and sour words in his mouth.  He couldn’t quite process it.  This had never happened.  Never.

There were stupid squabbles when they were kids, before Lonnie left.  There was teasing and annoyance and some back and forth arguments.  But they never yelled.  Will had never cursed at him.  And Jonathan had never, never voiced the bitterness.  This was all new and Jonathan hated every bit of it.  

Joyce walked over to him, gently.  “What happened?”

“He… Will and I… we had a fight.  I… I don’t know… what happened.”

Joyce sighed.  “Let’s make some tea.”

Jonathan glimpsed El wringing a towel in the corner of his eye.  Joyce turned to El.  “Sweetie, I need to talk to Jonathan for a moment.”  She kissed El’s head.  “I’ll be in, I just need a bit.”  El nodded and went to her room.

Joyce put on a kettle and they sat down at the table.  

Jonathan clenched his hair in his hands, “Why did I say that?  I blamed him… I told him he was the reason I didn’t have friends.”

Joyce gently took his hand away from his head and held it.

“You have a very different relationship with your brother.  My brothers?  We used to say that stuff all the time to each other.  But you never did that with Will.  You were always gentle and when your father left, you took on the role of dad to Will in a lot of ways.  That wasn’t fair to either of you.  Just like it wasn’t fair to move you all so far away.”

“We had to…”

“But Will is mad about it.  He’s going to be mad about it for a long time, and we need to let him.”

“...I feel like I don’t even know him anymore… like we left him back in Hawkins.”

Joyce squeezed Jonathan’s hand.  “Do you remember when your father left?”

“Yeah.”  The mention of his father made him scowl involuntarily.  

“Do you remember how bitter you were?”

Jonathan shook his head.  “I wasn’t bitter.  I was relieved that he was gone.”  

“Maybe a part of you was but that wasn’t the only thing you felt.  Your grades dropped that year.  I had multiple parent teacher conferences.  You didn’t want to play baseball anymore.  You skipped out on the after school program.”

“Will and I never went to the after school program.”

“Yeah, because you kept walking home with him.  You said that you forgot.  You refused to go and after two weeks of me paying for a program, that wasn’t being used, I gave up.”

Jonathan seemed bewildered, “I don’t remember any of that.”  

“It was a fast few months, or it seems like it was now.  It was before we really settled into our groove.  There was an adjustment period.  And you needed it.  But Will never got that.  I watched him.  After Lonnie left, he made it his job to make us happy.  He didn’t let us see how things hurt him.  He has always tried to be strong for us.  But now, after everything, he’s tired of smiling.  He’s angry, he’s bitter, and he’s allowed to be.  We need to let him feel this, and work through this. We need to still be there for him even if he’s being miserable and moody.  He deserves our patience.”

Jonathan swirled his spoon around and watched the sugar dissolve.  “Did I act like this?”

“You didn’t swear like that.  But you lashed out at me.  You blamed me for him leaving.”

Jonathan’s head bolted up, “What?!  No.  There’s no way.”

“Yeah, honey.  You were grieving.”  

Jonathan couldn’t process that.  “Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s water under the bridge, sweetie.  You apologized the same night.  I knew you didn’t mean it.”

“Was I like that with Will?”

Joyce looked toward Will’s door and shook her head.  “You were gentler with him.  You tried your best to make up for Lonnie being gone.  You have always tried to fill that hole for Will.  So, it only makes sense that you get some of the teenage rebellion aimed at you.”  She said it with a laugh but it was hollow.  He could hear the echoes of her own disappointment, like she had failed them somehow.

Jonathan squeezed her hand back.  “I wouldn’t trade it for anything.  We’ve got good roots, and we’ll make it through.”

She smiled at him.  

Jonathan looked back down the hallway.  “I should probably go apologize.”

She shook her head.  “You need to give him time.  Let him come to you when he’s ready.  For now, give him space and drink your tea.”

[the-nysh]

You posting that shark drawing just reminded me what an unlovod child Garou is to ONE 😭 Sure, his arc is great and his writing is great, but that's like, by virtue of being written by a good writer. You can tell ONE prefers comedic characters and so along with that shark drawing he only drew Garou thrice outside of the actual webmanga. We'd be starved for content had Murata not adopted Garou as his own (+he debuted right after Fubuki so his fate as equal opportunity poster boy was sealed lmao)

Ah?! Aww hmm...I wonder about that. :’) It’s true when ONE doodles random stuff on twitter, he tends to focus on the mains, like Saitama (or often Reigen) doing average, relatable, and comedic slice of life stuff, or interacting with the characters closest to them (with Genos, sometimes with some butt-monkey shenanigans teasing Sonic, or with Mob + Dimple respectively). In comparison, it’s rare you’ll see lone wolf boy depicted socializing or interacting with other characters in the same way like that (or even ever in a jokey/lighthearted manner either maybe he’s just too srs such that most of ONE’s typical doodles would come off ooc for him). So in that sense I could understand why ONE doesn’t often include him or doodle him involved in more random scenarios like those. Still, it’d be nice if ONE did though, like if we got more daily stuff or even silly interactions with Bang + Tareo (but maybe showing that in twitter doodles is too removed from the story he’d rather directly write about him instead.)

Either way, it’s hard to conclude if he��s really unloved, cause ONE’s already dedicated a huge portion of the main story (ever since like ch40) to him and his growth (even caring to revise it a ton for the manga, with potentially even more whenever he formally returns in the wc again). Shifting from the series’ beginning with the lighter episodic, self-contained arcs to a much longer/serious over-arching one. (Perhaps ONE feels that’s plenty enough content and focus on him already, so not much else ‘extra’ needed. Kinda same deal with the ovas not showing him much either.) But also either way, we have Murata and jumpaoki certainly sharing plenty of their twitter love for him in the meantime! :’D

[ohblackdiamond]

liner notes/unused joke summaries for kiss fanfics (part iv)

Despite what my general dislike of the shift key and my tendency to mock all that I love might imply, I actually overthink everything I write to a great extent. I make no claims to these explanations being in any way enjoyable, but if you wanted to know what I was thinking while writing KISS fic… now you do. Part one can be found here. Part two is here.  Part three is here.

 till it shines Unaccustomed to the finer details of a proper wooing, Paul draws Peter’s dick and then gives him a handjob. Surprisingly, it works.

>>The basic, non-sexual aspect of the storyline is built off of Peter’s memoirs, which mention his and Paul’s opening of the Gay Kitchen in rather grave detail. I feel like all parties involved just wanted a covert excuse to hit on each other. Peter also mentions, and, perhaps unsurprisingly, praises Paul’s compulsive dick-doodling. 

There’s a very odd but charming obliviousness to Peter’s recollections that I really wanted to emulate in his thought processes and conversations with Paul. I also just wanted do something light with Peter and Paul after the heaviness of “no change in the weather,” before the fame did things to them. There’s an obvious Beatles (well, Ringo Starr) reference in Paul’s “got to play your dues if you wanna sing the blues” quip. The title comes from Bob Seger’s song of the same name. I’d say it was also a naughty, oblique reference to handjobs (you rub something until it shines, right?), but I only realized that after I picked the title. I like to think Paul went to the zoo and mournfully fed some chimpanzees or something during his morning away from Pete and the rest of the band, but what do I know?

careening Paul attempts to take Bruce through a day in the life of the boss. Bruce is less than impressed.

>>I had gotten the request to do Bruce/Paul months and months ago but never did know how to do the pairing justice. I feel bad that this didn’t end happily-- I try to make sure most of my fics do!-- or with them actually together. I’d like to revisit the pairing at some point; maybe something set in ’90 when KISS gets its second and final top-ten hit in the United States? Maybe.

Very very early drafts had Bruce calling Paul out; this got ixnayed. I wanted to utilize the implication that Paul had used this sushi bar prior as a place he brought his hookups, and that being why the waitress was acting a bit off. I don’t know if that came across in the reading. Arguably, there’s a hint of Paul/Gene in there, too, but I figured it could go either way, so I didn’t tag it as such. Paul’s references to Mick Jagger possibly going solo are, obviously, a not-so-indirect way of asking Bruce if he thinks Gene’s going to abandon the band. The title comes from part of the refrain from Placebo’s “Scared of Girls;” a song that reminded me of Paul at the time.

I’ve always been more fascinated by the crash and burn of rockstars (and celebrities in general) than by them at their peak; blame it on watching movies like Ed Wood, Nightmare Alley, Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?, and Sunset Boulevard way too many times. The desperation to hold onto something is the same desperation that forces them to lose everything: their dignity, their integrity, etc. I got to work with that a little bit in “times upon this star” and “all of your b-films,” but here I wanted to really get a dirty, raw look at life after the applause. It was a hard balance; I didn’t want Bruce to be too passive or too naive, but I also didn’t want Paul to come across as a predator, just desperate and miserable.

I wanted to extend Paul’s rambling about the hula girls and everything becoming a commodity; end it with a disturbing comparison of himself to them, but I almost don’t think Paul had reached that level of pretentiousness until around 2015, or that level of despair until 2019.

[mimiplaysgames]

A Rush of Blood to the Head (4/6)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: T Word Count: 7,895

Summary: Faced with what he has to do, Terra learns that darkness doesn’t matter when it comes to saving the one he loves.

A/N: It’s been a long, long time. I haven’t been well, but I’ve been slowly recovering. I’ve poured a lot of my sadness into this one, and it’s been so relieving to finally finish it and put it out there. Here comes saving Aquanort. Next will be two chapters worth of reconciliation and introspection, and I honestly can’t wait to get to them.

This Dream I’ve Freed

Terra couldn’t find Ventus, and if he did, he’d kill him.

The back entrance of the academy was a large, open room. Long windows situated high on the walls above him embraced the room with so much sun, there wasn’t a shadow to be found except his own. Rough, sky-blue ceramic tiles led the way to tall garden gates. They were gold and elaborate in design that featured vines twisted from the center outward. And they were open. Ventus must have headed for the Master’s beloved gardens, which boasted the most colorful flowers in the Land of Departure.

This back room had a number of large sinks mounted on the walls, normally spent washing off dirt and mud. It was often the case the three students explored the trails out in the fields beyond, and they’d be damned if the Master allowed them to dirty the pristine hallway floors within the castle. Terra approached one, and finally looked at himself in the mirror.

He had already noticed most of the scrawls and doodles that were on his arms. Some of them were cartoonish monsters, inked in black marker. Others were teases and mean words. “Loser” in particular was huge, scribbled across the entirety of his forearm. A doodle of what appeared to be Ventus wielding a large sword was on the other.

Worst of all was a three-worded sentence, written underneath his right tricep: “Terra loves Aqua.” Complete with a large heart bordering them. His most guarded secret on display.

But the mirror showed him one more – a thin, curly mustache traced above his lips.

“What happened to you?” he heard Aqua say, followed by a giggle. No doubt she saw the mustache as she flashed a half-cocked smile, suppressing a laugh. “You should grow out facial hair. It’d look good on you.”

His first instinct was to keep his tricep close to him, so that she wouldn’t see the incriminating evidence.

“I was sparring with Ven.” He turned the sink on, and began to wash his forearms - though it was more important that he kept calm and collected so she wouldn’t suspect anything. “Him and his ridiculous spells.”

“Of course, it’s Ven we’re talking about.” She leaned on the edge of the sink, her free hand rested on her hip. “He used Sleep on the Master once, just so that he could procrastinate on an essay.”

“Tell me the Master still didn’t find out about that.”

“He never did,” she said uncomfortably, as if she was guilty for even knowing about it. “But you’re avoiding my question.”

“Ven cast Stop on me,” he said, eyeing the doodles, “and did all this while I was frozen.”

Aqua lifted her hand to her mouth to disguise her snort, but there was no way she was able to hide how funny she thought it was. Perhaps putting up with the doodles was worth it, just to see her this way: eyes squinting and watering, cheeks puffed, smile wide. Beautiful.

Not that he could ever tell her he’d be willing to go that far to make her laugh. “Wait until he does it to you, and see how you’ll feel.”

She lifted her hands up, as if in surrender. “Okay, I’ll stop. I swear,” she said, a few straggling chuckles escaping her lips.

He wiped his face with water, specifically with his left hand so the love message wouldn’t get exposed. “Well, if you see Ven, send him my way.”

“Ah,” she smacked her lips and shook a finger, which was expected. “That means I have to play babysitter and get in between you two.” She waved her arm dismissively when he flashed her a look of disapproval. “You’ll both thank me later when I spare you from being grounded. I won’t clean up after you guys, either.”

He knew why she would say that. The last time he and Ventus exchanged revenge pranks, the kitchen was destroyed. Explosive, ground shattering magic. Most of the evidence blamed Terra for the destruction, but the Master scolded Ventus for being provocative. They were both grounded and tasked with rebuilding it.

“I’ll give him nothing more than a noogie, I promise,” he said.

“Oh, please.” She made her way to the garden gates, her hand tracing their vinyl architecture. “Knowing the two of you, the library will be next.”

To her, it was probably nothing more than a typical day of preventing some accident. But he had surely averted a crisis as she walked away. Finally relaxed, he rubbed soap and water onto his tricep, the heart streaking black ink down his skin.

He stood up from his bed and immediately checked his nightstand - just to be sure it was still there, safe.

It was exactly where he left it before he went to sleep the night before. Her blue Wayfinder, perfect in condition and reflecting a bright radiance with its deep hue. Next to it was his own: broken, with a crack on one of the wings of the star. The silver border on that side was dislodged and severely bent, sticking straight out. He found it in this state the day he reunited with his armor, though he was grateful it wasn’t in worse condition from these odd thirteen years. As much as he treasured his orange Wayfinder, and as much as having it in his possession made him feel more complete, it really paled in comparison to hers.

For the last couple of weeks, he checked to see if hers was still there every single morning with the same desperation. He checked it every hour when he hung it around his neck - because losing it was by far a harsher reality than the one he was living now.

He sighed a breath of relief, and gazed out of his bedroom window at the mountains beyond. The sun didn’t shine as much as it used to in the Land of Departure. At least that was what it seemed to Terra. There was always a possibility that he didn’t remember it right. It was overcast, the clouds moving so slowly he was sure there was no wind blowing. It reminded him of the stillness in the castle - which he hated the most apart from the silence. Apart from the fact that she wasn’t here.

Terra flipped his legs over the side of his bed. Most of the castle had been destroyed the day the Master died, but his bedroom was as messy as it used to be. Like he left it on a typical day, and simply forgot to come back. His room was a relic: proof he had a life before Xehanort.

Clothes littered on the floor, across chairs, and stacked in corners. Papers scattered on the desk. Books hiding in random spots nearly everywhere. One particular book he had completely forgotten about: The Tales of Robin Hood, which donned a withered cover depicting a fox and a bear wearing tunics and hats. They had bows and arrows, and excitable smiles, looking forward to whatever rich lion they got to plunder next. The pages were yellowed, undisturbed by anything but time and an obsessed nine-year-old boy who used to read it every month in his young life. Inside the cover as an unevenly written claim of possession: This book belongs to Terra.

Robin Hood was the perfect hero the people needed to free them from tyranny. Smart, resourceful, witty, compassionate.

A nine-year-old Terra dreamed of becoming a Keyblade Master so he, too, could help other people and live the same example.

A twenty-year-old Terra sat on the edge of his bed in his dilapidated childhood home, with nothing to show for it. 

It was with his own hands, after all, that the worlds were in danger. His body at worst was a weapon, at best was living its own life when Xehanort was in control of it. Like he was wearing a suit. Yet Terra remembered nothing of these long years. He knew that Xehanort was the perpetrator for the hordes of Heartless that were threatening the entire multi-verse. Every person who has turned into a monster was blood on his own hands. But he didn’t know how often he tinkered in a lab. What kinds of chemicals he played with. Exactly what he did when he experimented on others. If he killed or tortured people. The clothes he wore. Who he talked to and what about. What he ate and if any of it made him sick.  When he slept and when he pulled all-nighters. If other people touched him. If other women were involved.

Terra knew he shouldn’t dwell on such thoughts, especially with no proof of the tinier details. But there came the cologne Xehanort would wear: a stench of patchouli, invading his nose. It didn’t matter how often he washed himself, somehow that smell always lingered. He already knew his body did things he didn’t want to do, and he didn’t need the reminder.

He grabbed her Wayfinder because under no circumstances would he leave the room without it. Gently placing it on his bathroom sink, he tore his clothes off and threw himself under the boiling water of his shower. He allowed his skin to burn away, hoping that this time it would stick. That all traces of Xehanort and that nauseating cologne would be incinerated for good this time. He scrubbed it raw, just to be extra certain. And he stood there, allowing the minutes to fly by as the water trickled down his skin, until he was convinced he was clean. Steam filled the entirety of the bathroom, and he only relaxed when the last sensations he felt were his own sweat coming down and the aroma of his sandalwood products clogging his nose.

His mirror was completely fogged up when he turned the water off. The skin all over his torso and arms was red from his scrubbing. But he was cleansed for now. The first order of business was to put on a clean shirt – this one a dark gray – before untying the clasp of her Wayfinder and drawing it around his neck. Its blue brilliance was flashy in comparison to anything he wore, but he was fine with that. This was the end of shower number one for the day – normally he would take three. Two if he was out for too long.

Finished and dressed, and with his bent orange Wayfinder in his pocket, Terra left his room and passed by hers. He knew it was better if he continued along and not go in. He knew it. But he couldn’t help himself – like a moth to a flame, he wondered if he preferred to torture himself, and opened the door.

Her bedroom, too, was untouched by anything.

She was always a neat and orderly person. Her desk was arranged and organized, books stacked neatly in a pile. Quills and pencils in their cases. Her work desk is mostly bare, because anything she had were stored in her drawers. A craft desk was right by it, and it was also tidy, with only a sewing machine to show for it and the rest of her supplies and trinkets organized in boxes.

She also fancied herself as the type of student that stayed out of trouble. Her dresser stood tall, no nicks or scratches into the wood like his own, because she actually followed the rules and never swung her practice weapons in her bedroom. On top of it was a collection of decorations, one of which was a sculpted dolphin that he made out of wood. He made it as a birthday gift. Maybe for her twelfth birthday? Or eleventh?

Her bed was made and the technique of it was pristine. As if she left early that morning, and would be back later that night.

Terra stared into her room. It was a fossil, sure, but proof that she used that sewing machine, and wrote essays on her desk. That he had a best friend growing up. He gently closed her door, caressing it as though it was precious.

Passing by Ventus’ room, he heard faint snoring. Peeking inside, he saw the boy sprawled out on his bed, one arm hanging off the edge, and the other thrown over his forehead. His breathing was deep and rhythmic through his open mouth, a bit of drool slipping out.

This bedroom could be best described as organized chaos: Ventus wasn’t a messy person, but his haven was a treasure trove of all the trinkets, clothes, décor, and gifts that Terra and Aqua had brought to him from their travels. One from each world they had visited. So while he had beads hanging from his lamp post, numerous tapestries covering his walls, and too many miniature statues propped on his desk, everything had a place. It was neat – just cluttered.

Ventus woke up the same boy he was thirteen years ago, unaware of anything that had happened. When he was told about what happened to the Master and Aqua, Terra found himself enduring crying fits and raging smacks on his chest. What on earth where you doing all this time, Terra? How could you have let all this happen? Ventus had screamed that day. Turning Castle Oblivion back into the way it used to be was a silently awkward experience, and it took several days before Ventus could finally start to act his normal self again.

It didn’t take long for Ventus to say he was sorry. It was comforting to know that he wasn’t hated, but Terra knew he was at fault anyway, and didn’t think he deserved the apologies. But this was in the past now. Watching his little brother, sleeping peacefully as though everything was normal, was soothing. A member of his family was back home, safe. If Ventus could find an inner tranquility to sleep through the night, then maybe it was a good omen for what was to come.

Not that Ventus would ever let Terra walk away without whining about how annoying that was, if he was caught watching over him like that. I’m not a child anymore, Terra.

The castle was so quiet that no other sound existed to smother any noise Terra would make, so he closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. Ventus could think he slept like a respectable adult today. A bullet dodged.

Days in the castle demanded too much attention and care. When they weren’t out doing missions or hunting Heartless, they spent their time fixing. And fixing. And fixing some more. But it was never enough, and the repairs were done too slowly to make that much of a difference.

The lounge area, where they used to spend time studying, hanging out, and making blanket forts together, had its outer wall completely blown open. The water damage from thirteen years’ worth of thunderstorms left behind veins of black mold that cracked through the plaster, and most of the furniture was missing.

Far too many rooms to count had the ceilings collapsed inside. The vast majority of the floors were cracked, so all of the tiles had to be replaced. Some of the outer towers were completely gone. They found one of them sprawled out over a waterfall some miles below, trees already growing through the rubble.

Some hallways, particularly the ones leading to the back of the castle, were blocked by rubble, though Terra has gotten far enough in clearing one of them. The main staircase of the west wing had also fallen completely apart, and they couldn’t use it to reach the upper floors. He passed by a cardboard box of paintings, all standing straight as if in a file. These paintings, all of them either gifts given to Eraqus by his friends or were heirlooms from Masters of the past, were displaced.

Terra could find new walls to hang them up – but that meant it wouldn’t be home anymore. Home meant that these paintings were to be hung where they used to be. Anywhere else was a poor excuse of one. So they sat there for now, waiting to return to their proper places.

The Master’s study was spared from any real damage, though it looked as though an earthquake had shuffled it: bookshelves turned over, furniture out of place, dust and soot shot out from the fireplace. The messiest of all was the large, dark mahogany desk, with all the books, letters, and scattered around as though the table threw its own contents out in a fit. The windows were thankfully still intact, overlooking the back area of the castle. The Master used to watch his gardens grow from here. Now, the gardens were overtaken with weeds and patches of dry dirt.

This room was the most important – Terra wanted to arrange it back exactly the way it was, but he had too much work ahead of him. It didn’t smell of the Master anymore, merely something that was empty and void of any real life. Yet despite the horrendous mess, it was still so familiar.

Terra could picture the Master sitting at his desk, the morning sun shining through the windows as he whittled away at another letter with his pen, a mug of coffee close by. Smiling up at him behind that bushy mustache, his voice warm and content.

Good morning, Terra. I hope your dreams were pleasant. May the rest of your day be brighter.

Eraqus always greeted everyone each day with that phrase. What Terra would give to hear it now.

He opened the Master’s leather-bound journal where he logged his daily messages. Eraqus had the most legible, impeccable form for handwriting, as though he made it an art of his own. His cursive strokes were carefully crafted over years of perfecting the technique, as though he made sure to respect every thought that passed through his own mind.

Terra had read the last three entries to his Master’s log several times – remnants of his final thoughts and plans the day of his death. To see if he could feel what the Master felt in those final hours.

He turned over several pages where he went through his own entries. His handwriting was scratchy and uneven, as though he stayed a child. He picked up a quill and dipped it into fresh ink, then gazed over to the message-globe on the desk. It was a magical object, with a curved base that held a spinning, metallic, semicircular apparatus, and a tight golden harp string down the middle. When plucked, the string set off a vibration that summoned the apparatus to spin and blur until a glowing sphere took its place. The Master used this for receiving and sending messages in private.

Since coming back to the castle, Terra logged inquiries, cries for help, and everything in between that was sent to the Land of Departure since the Master’s death. They served as notes for worlds he would visit, to see if he could still save them. He wrote the date for the newest entry, the sender of the latest message, and some notes.

This new message was the exact dispatch he’d been waiting for.

Terra knew that today was going to be different, but difficult. He’d better get started.

Hurrying over to the kitchen, he filled a pot with flour, beef broth, and salt, and started boiling. Terra didn’t memorize recipes for stews – they were simple enough to make. But it wasn’t like he made them as delicious as Aqua’s. Potatoes, carrots, and onions, but these barely did anything to add a complex taste, and Ventus had complained enough about the bland food. He sprawled out different seasonings and stared at them for a while after gently adding slabs of beef into the pot. Paprika, a sprinkle of it. Perhaps Aqua would have added more for flavor, so he dumped a portion. Then he cut garlic. She probably would have relied on these the most, so he cut some more. Peppers – the more, the merrier. A hefty sum of cayenne.

Anything to make it flavorful. Aqua would have poured a mouthful of spices, right?

The kitchen was baked in an aroma that burned his eyes when Ventus approached the dining table.

“Morning, buddy,” Terra said. He tried to sound cheerful, and hoped it was successful.

Ventus mumbled an attempt at a greeting while rubbing his eyes, and waddled over to his chair.

Terra added a small amount of milk and stirred into the stew in order to tame it, before pouring a bowl of it in front of his friend. “This will certainly clear the sinuses.”

Ventus took one look at it. “Another stew.”

“I promise this will pack a punch.” Terra poured himself a bowl and sat at the head of the table. A pause. He wanted to at least start the day right. “I hope your dreams were pleasant, Ven. May the rest of your day be brighter.”

It sounded unnatural, coming from his lips. He didn’t know if he should mimic his Master’s enunciations, or if he should give it his own personality.

Ventus gazed at him, giving a sad smile while he nodded to himself. “With practice, it will sound better.” He meant it as a joke, but it came out morose.

Teasing was good. It was a form of affection that was appreciated. But some things have changed since their reunion. Normally, Ventus would nag him about the constant showering, but he didn’t.

He never teased about the fact that Aqua’s Wayfinder was always found around Terra’s neck, either. Terra didn’t take this as a sign of resentment, but one of respect.

The two boys picked at their food, the clash between spoon and bowl ringing in the hushed dining room as they slurped. Ventus sniffled, the intense amount of spices making his nose run.

There wasn’t an easy way to bring it up – the conversation about “the plan” was one that usually got tense. The Master would be entirely disappointed with what they were aiming to do. Lectures of how imperative it was to protect people, and how forbidden it was to ever use the Keyblade against the heart of another lingered in his mind. It was a path to darkness, but it was their best shot at getting her back. The best course of action, then, was to just get it over with.

“I got a message back from Yen Sid’s tower,” Terra said. “The good fairies agreed to meet us at Enchanted Dominion.”

Ventus shot a look up from his bowl, his attention caught. “Okay. But why there?”

Terra swirled his spoon into his stew. “I need to apologize to Princess Aurora,” he said slowly. They knew what he was talking about, and neither of them were going to go into detail as to why. “I also need to ask her a few questions.”

“To execute the plan,” There was a sense of bitterness in Ventus’ tone. He wasn’t alone, because both of them hated what they were going to do. “So I’ll just train with the fairies there?”

Terra took a long breath, looked at his friend straight in the eye, and kept his voice low. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. It isn’t pretty, seeing Aqua the way she is.”

“I want to help.” Ventus leaned forward with a fist on the table, his eyes glaring with determination. “I need to.”

“Okay,” Terra said with a small smile. Part of him felt relieved. “You’re better with the tricksy stuff anyway. We’ll head out as soon as breakfast is finished.”

Ventus gave out a half-hearted chuckle, not used to being trusted so much. He must be anxious about it, too. He said so before. While he fiddled more with his food, Terra reached out and held him firmly on the shoulder, in a manner meant to be comforting.

“When you see Aqua,” he told Ventus, “make sure to smile at her. Can you do that for me?”

It was late afternoon in San Fransokyo when they arrived. The sun cast out a warm, orange hue over the vast metropolis, which normally would host millions of hustling people. But not today.

Today, Heartless and data corruption overtook the city, and the people have evacuated. Some citizens have equipped themselves with the machinery to fight back, and were flying across the skies as they battled against armies of darkness.

The young Xehanort was in town. This alone interested Terra, but what convinced the both of them to come after their excursion in Enchanted Dominion was a short message from Sora: She’s here.

Terra and Ventus tracked down the time traveler. And she was, in fact, there with him - down an empty street, blocks away from the warfare Sora was leading against hordes of large Heartless.

Sneaking through a nearby alleyway and hiding behind opposing dumpsters, they were still too far away to eavesdrop on what the two cloaked Organization members were discussing. Aqua had her arms crossed, not giving Xehanort much of the respect to look at him while she answered his requests. They talked on, as if they had no idea about the combat that was happening streets away.

Ventus, crouching behind his dumpster and looking over his shoulder, let out a sigh when he saw her. But he did well to keep those feelings in.

Her hair was nearly white now, but what was most unsettling were her facial expressions. Some were worn on her face with familiarity – boredom, anticipation, annoyance. But when she smiled, it was bizarre. It was devilish, it was cocky.

“Sometimes, I wasn’t sure which Aqua I was dealing with,” Terra said in a hushed voice. His throat was constricted, his heart pounding so hard it was about to burst out and bleed over. Even though he had seen her like this before, it was still just as unbearable as the first time.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I can’t tell if it’s Aqua, if it’s Xehanort… or strangely, if it’s both of them…” his voice trailed off. When he was the one possessed, he had no control. But there were still voices he heard in the darkness, constantly keeping him quiet and asleep, telling him to give up. Was it the same for her? Was she better at fighting them off, or was she constantly losing every day?

He held her Wayfinder, resting on his chest. “You know Aqua is a slow burner when she gets angry.”

Ventus shrugged, smirking. “Sometimes.”

Terra couldn’t help himself but let out a chuckle. “Well, this Aqua acts like she’s doused in gasoline. Any small thing you say can make her explode - if she sets off at all. Her moods change in seconds, and you never know how she will react.”

“You talk about her like she’s a completely different person.”

“I…” He stroked her Wayfinder with his thumb, swallowing a lump in his throat. “I’m not sure what to make of her, honestly.” He just wished she was back to normal.

A shadow grew and formed an archway behind her, an incredibly large man wearing the same robe stepping out from it. Shoulder-length white hair, dark-skinned, barrel-chested, more than a head taller than her, with Terra’s face.

Ventus leaned onto his dumpster and squinted his eyes to get a closer look. “Who the heck is that?”

The replacement. It was shocking at first, like seeing a mirror image but one that had a lifeform of its own. Almost like an out of body experience. But his expressions were different too. Terra was sure he didn’t look like that when he smiled.

Either way, this Aqua had a new Terra of her own.

“Ugh…” Ventus shuddered. “I hope I never get a clone made out me, that’s creepy.”

He might have said that too loud. Aqua turned her head their direction, and they ducked back against the walls of the alleyway as fast as they could. They held their breaths, and inched their knees to their chests, as if to completely disappear behind the cover of the dumpsters.

They waited several seconds like this before Terra slowly inched forward, trying to hear if someone was approaching. Silence. He risked a peek.

“Sorry,” he heard Ventus whisper. “Did she see us?”

It seemed she hadn’t. The Terra-clone was moving his mouth, Xehanort attentive to his words. A half-cocked smile showed itself on her face, as if she found what he said only mildly funny.

Aqua said something, reaching her hand to touch the elbow of the clone. He gazed upon her, but this expression – this one – was perfectly readable. He did his best to remain calm, but a creeping smile and a glint in his eyes showed that he relished her touch.

Terra could relate to what that felt like and whipped his head back behind the dumpster. Put simply, he couldn’t bear to watch her touch that man. Losing her to darkness was devastating. But Terra was certain that his chest became several pounds heavier, and that his heart was nearly choked out of him because he also lost her to a substitute.

“You okay?” Ventus asked. He was leaning against his dumpster, but he was watching Terra with such concern and sympathy. “They’re leaving.”

He told himself that he would survive this, and reluctantly looked over his shoulder again. She led the clone through a newly opened corridor of darkness. They left behind Xehanort, who barked orders as they faded away.

“She’s gone. What now?” Ventus let out a sharp sigh.

What now, indeed. A vessel for Master Xehanort, Aqua was certainly a threat to all worlds. Yet she was entirely unstable. The younger one was an anomaly, protected by his own powerful magic and time travel. He was a haunting and was just as much of a menace (and perhaps more so) because of her condition. To protect this world, they all have to go down.

Terra knew on some level, this was about revenge, too. Though he didn’t care if this was unsightly for a proper Keyblade wielder anymore.

“We need to get her alone if we’re going to do anything,” Terra finally said, watching the younger Xehanort start to walk away. “But we also have a duty as Keyblade wielders…

“Ven, listen.” They looked into each other’s eyes, as if discussing a matter of military importance. “I need you to be my surprise factor. You should find a spot higher up on these skyscrapers, but not too far. I’m going to ambush Xehanort, and you need to be ready for my signal so you can strike him from above.”

“What about Aqua?”

“With him out of the way, we can focus on separating her from the other one.” Terra leaned forward and grabbed Ventus by the shoulder, his stare more intense as he needed this last message to stick. “I need you to wait for my call.”

He needed to protect Ventus, and would rather have use him as a finishing blow than keep him around too long in the heat of battle.

Ventus nodded immediately, his eyes full of resolve. “You can count on me.”

With that, the boy hopped over through an open window, disappearing into an unfurnished building where he started to climb up stairs. Terra stepped out of the alleyway, briskly following his target. But he made no effort to keep quiet.

Xehanort stopped in his tracks and faced him. If he was surprised, he made good effort not to show it. “The last time you and I spoke,” he began, his eyes narrowing in amusement and his smirk broadening, “you said I’d be afraid of you upon our next meeting.”

Terra said nothing in return, but instead summoned his Master’s Defender. It was lighter in weight than his own Keyblade, but it packed a magical punch that protected him more efficiently from severe attacks. It was a formidable weapon, but it had more to do with wielding the love for his lost ones. With her Wayfinder and Eraqus’ Keyblade, he would still have a hold onto light - even if he didn’t think he had any left for himself anymore.

“You failed,” Xehanort continued.

He succeeded. He failed. He heard both from the same, twisted man and it meant nothing.  The one thing that was necessary was to shove that smug face right into the concrete.

“I know for a fact that today, you’ll see the end of yourself,” Terra said, perhaps too confidently.

No, he could risk being cocky. He also had Ventus by his side.

Xehanort called for his own Keyblade, unique in its design and barely resembling the old man’s. “Need I remind you this is why you’d fall so easily as a victim to darkness? You’ve served your purpose well as a preservative for long enough. Yet you are such a weakling.”

There was no time to spit a smart retort over being such a disappointment. Xehanort warped to close the gap between them, and he kept this level of aggression throughout.

Terra was kept constantly on his feet to dodge each strike toward him. A strong magic user who loved to rely on deception, Xehanort particularly enjoyed zipping in between positions, just to get Terra to lean one direction so he could be struck from behind. It kept him on the edge of a puppet’s string, and he was played like a cat attempting to strike a fly. Xehanort was fast, his magic damaging.

But his strikes were weak. All that was needed was for Terra to endure. Dodge, endure. Wait for the opportune moment.

Until their Keyblades clashed. Terra, of course, was stronger, and was able to push Xehanort back. Now that the previous rhythm had been interrupted, the tables had turned and Terra took this opportunity to get more aggressive. To create his own flow in between Xehanort’s teleportations, and throw counter-strikes.

What was left was to maneuver Xehanort close enough to Ventus’ building. He’d let his friend, his comrade, his brother, do the rest.

And he almost had his victory, until she called out –

“Enough.”

Aqua casually strolled up to them, the sway in her walk self-assured, her face not impressed with what she had seen.

This was bad. It wasn’t about going up against two incredibly powerful opponents. Rather, Terra simply refused to raise a finger on her body. He wouldn’t ask Ventus to do the same, either. He prepared his fighting stance, ready to summon his glider so he could escape. Yet, he couldn’t keep his eyes away. It had been a while since he last saw her, and to think of leaving her behind... Yet… what if he had no choice?

He kept his grip on his Master’s Keyblade.

Xehanort glared at her. “Where is Xemnas?”

“We’ve got trouble.”  She crossed her arms as she took her place by Xehanort’s side. She glanced at Terra for merely a short second, but kept her focus on her partner. Her stare was unwavering, like a cat watching prey.

“Enough to incapacitate him?” He almost sounded disbelieving. But his eyes contorted with frustration and he huffed. “We’ll disable the Keyblade wielder here, then. Ventus would then be completely unprotected.”

That last statement was an attempt at arousing Terra’s anger, but it didn’t work. He just couldn’t focus.

Her stare. She stared at Xehanort as if she was studying him. It was deadpan and placid, like she was losing herself in his face, and each moment she kept relaxed and stayed silent, Terra knew. This was the face of someone who was ready to throw herself into the abyss.

She nonchalantly waved her arm around, her palm open. Shot from it was a gathering of lightning bolts so powerful that it sent Xehanort flying across the street, crashing into the wall of a building. He fell onto the ground, his body laying lifelessly. His Keyblade dissipated, leaving him defenseless and unconscious.

She flexed her fingers vigorously. Ventus was still watching, waiting for a cue. But Terra couldn’t allow this to turn into a fight. He was desperate to know if she was safe and okay, yet he was terrified of speaking. How unpredictable was she going to be this time? What did any of this mean?

“Going rogue?” he finally asked, as if giving her a friendly question.

“Taking out the trash.” She sounded like herself, but her voice was deeper. It was tired, yet full of spite. “I’ve no need for those who’ve hurt me.” With those last two words, she finally looked at him, her gold eyes piercing.

He shook his head. “I’m not going to fight you, Aqua.”

Her face shuddered, as if she was processing an insult. She cocked her head to the side. “How courteous of you to consider my feelings,” she said through her teeth, sarcasm oozing through.

“I don’t want to be your enemy.”

Her eyes widened, and he swore he could see her pupils shrinking. She started to stride toward him with such nerve that it looked like she was preparing herself to slap him.

“Enemies,” she said mockingly, “friends. It’s too late for them to matter anymore.”

With that, she waved her hand to flash a set of threatening bolts his way. He blocked them, but it forced him to stagger backward. Even with the magical boost the Defender provided, it wasn’t a match for her power and mastery over spells.

Terra held his open palm to the ground, as if commanding a dog to stay. A cue to stand ground. Ventus shouldn’t swoop in to help him. Not now. Not yet.

“Who are you signaling to?” She threw another wave of bolts. He blocked again, but barely matched her speed. This time, he stumbled.

“Don’t mock me,” she growled. “Fight back!”

Her next wave hit him directly. The electricity gripped his entire body and stabbed him several times. His heart beat terribly and quickly, as if begging to be taken out or it would die. But he stood his ground. Allowed the dark energy of her magic to channel through his body and toward the Keyblade, using it as a conductor. Enduring the pain, whimpering from it.

When it was over, he immediately reached for her Wayfinder. It was still intact. He finally remembered to breathe.

“Did it hurt?” he heard her ask.

Then it dawned on him. The shock she sent Xehanort took him out of the ring completely in one swoop. He wondered if she was the trouble that fell on Xemnas.

But her attack this time didn’t even compare in power. She was holding back on him, just to see him wince.

“I get it now,” he said, his voice shaking. He started to tremble, unsure if he wanted to hear what he was going to say. Scared of how she would react. “You want me to feel pain.” 

She pursed her lips.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” he continued. “You want me to hurt.” He raised his voice. “Well it does. I am miserable every day. I can’t stand to see you this way. I can’t stand to be away from you, and I hate that I still exist while you continue to suffer for my sake!”

Her brows furrowed and her eyes started to tear, as if she realized something horrific. She grabbed her left arm rapidly, as if she was suffering intense pain. Her grip was so strong, it twisted the fabric of her cloak.

“You should have left me to rot in the Realm of Darkness, Aqua. I would have at least found some peace knowing you were safe.” He stopped yelling, but it was a struggle to keep his voice even. “So yes, it does hurt. Does that make you feel better?”

Her breath was shallow and she didn’t let go of her grip on herself. She leaned into her arm, as if seeking comfort for herself. She shook her head. “No. It doesn’t.”

Terra sighed, willfully ignoring the soreness throughout his whole body, and how tight his chest felt. He stepped forward and reached his hand out. “Come with us, then. Come home.” He caught a sob before it left him. “We just want you to get better.”

“Get better.” She said it in a way to mimic him. Her eyes scattered the ground and darted in many directions around her. What was going through her mind?

He couldn’t ask her. Aqua had this look of gloom, as if suddenly being told the most devastating secret only she could hear. She let go of her grip and clutched her fist at her heart. Shaking, she whimpered, and collapsed backward.

“Aqua!” he gasped, running toward her and dropping the Defender on the ground. He cradled her in his arms, holding her firmly so she’d stop trembling. She looked into his eyes, her own wide in fear. She groaned through closed lips, trying so hard to speak to him but couldn’t.

Her hands shook violently, yet she managed to pull one of her gloves off. The tips of her fingers were bright red, the rest of her arm a burnt violet. It was unsightly, and- was she turning inhuman? It took her a lot of effort, but she raised it to touch his cheek.

Her fingers were deathly cold, hardened, and scaly. Like a lizard’s skin. She cupped his cheek, her thumb feeling the width of his face. He reached to hold her hand in his, which was still so petite in comparison. He held it tenderly, trying to warm it up, yet mortified of shattering her to pieces if he squeezed too tightly. 

“Terra!” Ventus landed on the ground and skidded over to where they were. “Whoa,” he said when he saw the state of her skin, “did that happen to you?”

“No,” he said, not taking his gaze away from her. She held it in return, searching his eyes as if finding a reason to continue on. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her.”

“Then what do we do?”

“We stick to the plan,” he said without missing a beat. There was nothing else that they knew to do, and she needed help now.

Aqua continued to stare up at him, like a child gazing through the window of a candy store. She didn’t acknowledge Ventus’ presence at all, and it made him wonder whether she was truly conscious of what she was looking at.

“Hey,” he called to her with a soft smile, “Ven’s here. Look.” He gently coaxed her hand over and pointed his finger.

She blinked and slowly followed his lead, as though it took her a while to comprehend what she was doing.

“Hey, Aqua,” Ventus said, though his voice was completely shaken by nerves. He smiled, albeit it was forced and intimidated, and he shot several sideways glances toward Terra as if to beg for instructions on what to do.

At the sight of his smile, her eyes widened and she moaned with awe. She reached out to touch him, and he took her hand with both of his own.

“We’re finally together again,” he said, keeping a grin up and trying not break down. “Terra kind of sucks with cooking and it’s too quiet. I’ve missed you, Aqua. We both have.”

She whimpered in response, her eyes watery.

Xehanort was still unconscious, sprawled out on the ground. They’d better get this over with, before any reinforcements threaten to take her back again.

“We’re going to help you, Aqua,” Terra said, and she returned her golden eyes back to him, softening when looking into his. He adjusted his arms so that her head was supported better, to make her more comfortable. “It’s not going to hurt. Okay? You’re not going to feel a single little thing.” His breathing deepened. This sucked. But it had to be done. “Trust me.”

She blinked several times in response, the twitch in her brows almost begging for some salvation.

“Ven is going to put you into a very deep sleep.”

Her pupils dilated, and in desperation she grabbed onto his shirt, her strength so fragile that she scratched him through the fabric. Her face quivered furiously, and she finally managed to move her mouth to speak.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded. Her voice was hoarse, shaky, and barely audible.

He took her hand and carried it over her Wayfinder, safely resting on his chest. “I will be by your side the entire time, Aqua. I promise.”

He meant it. It was a promise he made for himself, as well. 

Eventually she nodded, though her head waggled a bit and made circular movements.

Terra gestured toward his comrade with his head, a blessing to finally start.

Ventus intertwined his fingers together, attempting to steady his breathing. Like someone willing themselves to do something they were frightened of, he finally summoned his Keyblade in his left hand, and pet the top of her crown with his right. Hovering the Keyblade over her forehead, he closed his eyes and calmed himself. He didn’t say anything, but eventually the Wayward Wind glowed with a soft blue light. This was the spell he learned from the good fairies.

Her eyes fluttered and relaxed, gently shutting as the tension in her entire body released. She leaned more into Terra’s embrace, as if she knew she was protected.

“You did good, Ven,” Terra said, nodding in approval and encouragement.

Ventus withdrew his Keyblade, gulping. He looked as though he was slightly nauseous.

If she was going to be stuck with the gradient blue-to-white hair after this was over, she’d still be stunning. Terra brushed the hair off her face, stroking the skin of her forehead before going to her cheek. Her face was still soft, yet not as warm as it should be. She looked peaceful and carefree in her sleep, and deservedly so.

“Terra?”

Ventus shifted uncomfortably, looking back toward Xehanort for signs of movement. It was dusk now. They were taking too long.

“Right.” The Master’s Keyblade laid by itself on the ground, but Terra wouldn’t dare taint it. It would have been disrespectful in his memory.

He summoned his own Keyblade, which was used to do the forbidden once before. Wielders were supposed to be protectors of light and hearts. Even when manipulated and forced by an evil witch, Terra remembered what it felt like to pull a heart out of a body, which was a terrible and forbidden act. To wield the power to mess with a person’s life.

Now he was faced with the choice to do it again, but toward the person he cared about most. What kind of Keyblade Master could he ever be if he was doing the things that would make someone like Xehanort pleased?

He could ask for her forgiveness, but this was just an addition to the list of things he needed pardon for. 

He could tell her he loved her again, but that was a pain that stabbed hard. A sober Aqua may still leave him after all.

But none of that mattered. He still owed her freedom, and he would go that far to grant it.

Without anything meaningful to say, Terra aimed his Keyblade toward her chest, and called for two hearts.

[lirlovesfic]

The Choice

A Doctor Who fanfic Summary: After GitF, the TARDIS brings the Doctor, Rose, and Mickey back to the estate to solve a problem involving the TARDIS herself. But when they see a familiar face, the face of someone who should not exist, they realize the problem is deeper than they thought and could endanger the Doctor’s very existence. Primary characters: Ninth Doctor, Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, Jackie Tyler. Genres: Romance, mystery, adventure, drama, character study, HN AU, fobbed!Nine, sick TARDIS. Pairings: Nine/Rose, Ten/Rose Rating: Adult

Warning: None for this chapter

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Chapter Thirty-Six - Indonesia, 26 August, 1883

"Kezia, pay attention to what you're doing! You're dropping dates all over the ground!"

Adi didn't bother to look up from his task of unloading their wagon and setting up their stall along the long dirt road that led to the harbor. Market days were always like this, with his younger sister getting scolded by their mother, Mavi, for some infraction or another. Once or twice a week, on the days that a ship was scheduled to arrive on their small island, they would arise well before dawn and load up their wagon with various items they could sell to the tourists and traders that would arrive—boxes of dates, mangos, or other fruits picked from the trees that covered the hills behind their house; brightly colored headscarves and shawls, handwoven by their mother; and his own drawings, in pencil, pastels or charcoal, of seascapes, landscapes, or people.

When he was younger, Adi had often wondered why ships would even bother with their tiny island. It didn't have much to offer, not in comparison to the much larger ports on Java and Sumatra. The secret, he found out by overhearing a couple of sailors talking one day, was that although their island was small, it was popular because the islanders charged much less than the other ports for the same products. Sailors, often strapped for cash during a long voyage, could acquire desperately needed fresh fruit, poultry, and barrels of clean drinking water at a fraction of the cost merchants at the larger ports charged.

While his mother and sister picked up the wayward dates, some of which had rolled under the wagon—requiring Kezia to crawl under it, and get admonished for getting dirty—Adi strung a clothesline between one corner of the wagon and the branch of a nearby tree for his mother to hang her scarves on. Then he carefully unloaded the box that contained his drawings. He set them up on a folding display case he had built himself. After he finished, he paused for a moment to admire his handiwork. Just one of them would sell for more than their entire supply of fruit. On a typical market day, he usually sold two or three, in addition to the sketches tourists paid him to draw of them.

His mother scolded Kezia again, this time for the sin of allowing one of the scarves to drag through the dirt as she carried it from the wagon to the clothesline. Adi sighed. Actually, every day was like this. Like him, his sister was a dreamer, and as such was constantly getting distracted: by a flower, or a butterfly, or a bird. Yesterday it was the shape of the clouds, when she was supposed to be hanging out the laundry. The day before it was a litter of kittens, when she was supposed to be tidying up.

He should be grateful, he supposed, that Kezia was now the one who usually caught their mother's wrath. It used to be that he was the one who was always being reprimanded: for daydreaming, for having his head in the clouds. And particularly for doodling when he should be concentrating on his chores and his studies.

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[mariav-v]

Reflection: “The Secret of Drawing”

What stood out to me in the video was the contrast between a child and adult in their approach to art. It brought me back to the concept of a "creative block", you are found in a place where you just can't strike any inspiration of what you could create. However, in contrast to a child, their limits are endless and they themselves aren’t ever associated with experiencing this “block”. This made me think and reflect towards the main factor that may attribute to this idea as an adult. The reason possibly being on adults carrying more worries and fears than a child. In the mind of child they don't worry about their art being perfect or if it even makes any sense, just that they're enjoying their time making art. 

An image that stood out to me was from Andre Masson's art that involved the landscape with sexual imagery accompanying it. Throughout this piece, and many others that were shown in the video, he really did allow his mind to transfer onto the paper. From a taboo subject such as sex, and him showcasing this topic so transparently, it's kind of surprising he created these pieces with no shame of what others think. This in a weird way being in the mindset of a child when they create art, not pleasing for others but for themselves. 

What I learned in this video is a specific technique that is common among more experienced artist. In the section of when they experimented on Andrew's eye movement in comparison to Sarah Simblet’s, the difference in preparation was critical. As mentioned, every time she looked from the model to the paper she would quickly make her decision on the lines that she placed- the weight of the line, the location- those kinds of attributes. It showed the need of prior planning before putting pen on paper, and with constant practice done then you'd be able to reach the quick pace that Sarah is able to accomplish. 

A question I'd have for Andrew Graham Dixon is how he came onto the career of an art critique? He's mentioned in the video of drawing not being a part of his life, the reason for his difficulty in try to recreate a portrait of a man's face. So, it's interesting he's involved in a career that's not so personally connected to his own inner life, especially since you can choose to critique other forms of media. 

This is my sketchbook doodles I’ve made while watching the video.