#(from 'the master plan')

[aimapandu]

Tweels on cleaning duty

[clarionglass]

here we go :) part one of three, updates to be released weekly!

---

sam says 4 (game master cinematic universe, part 3)

Ruby was at her mum's for a family dinner she couldn't miss on pain of death, apparently, and the Doctor was many things, but a family dinner kind of guy wasn't one of them—particularly when Carla had already slapped him once in the short time he'd known her. He thought he'd broken his streak of bad luck with mums, but… well, seemingly not. So he was companionless for a few hours, and while he could wait for her to get back, maybe catch up on his reading—what was the point of waiting when you had a time machine? 

He ran his hands over the TARDIS console, marvelling at her clean lines and metallic flourishes, the way that even now she felt brand new but familiar, and paused. He’d just pop off for a quick adventure, nothing too dangerous, but—where to go?

He could scan for a distress call nearby, and pitch in to help. He could drop in on Donna and Shaun and Rose, beautiful Rose, and see how they were all doing. Or he could just hit the randomiser button, and jump in feet first wherever he ended up.

He remembered a conversation from a long time ago, when he wore a different face, and his gorgeous TARDIS wore a face too, for the first and only time.

“You didn't always take me where I wanted to go.”

“No, but I always took you where you needed to go.”

He grinned. Who could resist an offer like that? He pressed the button and whooped as the time rotor spun into action, ready to see where the universe would take him.

---

Apparently, he was needed pretty close to where he already was. Earth, 2024. Huh. Same planet, same time—within a few months of where he’d left Ruby, even. The main thing that had changed was the location: he was now in the good old US of A. California, to be more specific, and Los Angeles to be more specific still. And to really narrow it down, the Doctor discovered as he poked his head out of the TARDIS doors, he was in… a broom closet. Not bad, as a parking spot—a bit squeezy, but out of the way. And as he poked his head out of that door, he could finally see he was in the backstage corridors of a studio of some kind. Film or TV, if he was to hazard a guess, it was a different vibe from Abbey Road.

With a shrug, he decided to go exploring.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before a young woman wearing the full-black outfit, headset, and permanently stressed expression of a production assistant came running up to him.

“Are you the fill-in Sam organised?” she asked breathlessly, and honestly, seeing the look on her face, the Doctor didn’t have the heart(s) to tell her no. And really, what was the Doctor, if not a professional fill-in? This, this was why he had a randomiser button on the control panel, because whatever he was about to get himself into was going to be fun.

“Sure!”

“Oh, thank god,” sighed the production assistant, relief dawning across her face. “When Ally tested positive this morning, I thought we were sunk for the record, because we called around and we couldn’t get a hold of anyone. But then Sam said he could get someone in, and, you know, here you are, and just in time, so—ah, yeah, if you could follow me this way?”

Smiling all the way, the Doctor followed his guide through to hair and makeup, looking around as they went. The studio seemed to belong to a company called Dropout, according to the branding scattered around, and things seemed, at least on the surface, to be… well. Fine. He couldn't tell why he'd been brought here yet, which meant that when he found the reason, it was going to be particularly tangled. He couldn't wait! 

And then he looked back at his guide, still engulfed in a miasma of anxiety, and realised he'd been too busy looking for clues to notice the person right in front of him. 

“Hey, it's cool, you've found me,” he started with a gentle smile. “You can relax. Hi, I'm the Doctor. What's your name?”

“Oh!” she said, startled. “The Doctor, yeah, of course. Um, hi, I'm Kaylin. Look, sorry, it's just that I've been so busy this morning, I'm so distracted… Shit, and I would've completely forgotten to get your details too. There's paperwork to fill in, but you can do that later. Um, just for now, though, can I get your pronouns?”

The Doctor thought for a moment. “He/him, for now.”

Kaylin nodded, making a note on her phone. “Okay, cool! And do you have any socials?”

“Not me, babes,” he replied. “I'm hardly sitting down long enough to be able to update, you know?”

“On a day like this, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “That's okay, Lou didn't have socials either for the longest time. Right, so if you go through there, the team will get you sorted, and once you're done, someone will take you up to the greenroom. All good?”

“All great,” the Doctor replied. Kaylin flashed him a quick, relieved smile, then hurried off.

Hair and makeup was a fairly quick process, the sound mixer fitted him with a microphone, and before too long, Kaylin was back to take him upstairs. 

“This is the greenroom,” she said, pushing the door open. “The rest of the cast for the episode are already here—they’re great guys, and they’ve both been on the show a lot, so they’ll be able to help if you’ve got questions. And if you need anything else, just come find me or any of the other PAs, okay?”

The Doctor nodded, beamed at Kaylin, and walked in.

---

The greenroom was small but comfortable, and its occupants, two men around the same age as the Doctor appeared, looked up as he entered.

“Oh, you’re new,” the taller of the pair said, clearly giving him the once-over.

The other sighed with a mixture of fondness and exasperation, just as clearly used to his friend’s antics.

“Hey, I’m Brennan,” he said, levering himself up to standing from his perch on a chair arm, and holding out a hand. “That’s Grant.”

The Doctor took it warmly. “The Doctor. Just passing through, and happy to help.”

Grant’s eyebrows quirked. “Doctor… something?” he prompted.

“Or is it just ‘the Doctor’?” Brennan asked.

“Just ‘the Doctor’,” the Time Lord confirmed cheerfully. “You’ll get used to it, everyone does.”

Grant didn’t look convinced, but—

“Copy that,” Brennan shrugged, and settled back on the arm of the chair, returning his gaze to the door.

Grant, in turn, looked at the Doctor and rolled his eyes in a clear expression of ‘no, I don’t know why he’s like this, either’.

“Okay,” the Doctor said after a moment of watching the watching. “I wasn’t going to ask, but now I think I have to. What’s up with the door?”

Brennan huffed a laugh. “Well, the last time there was one of those up—” he pointed to the Out of Order sign stuck to the bathroom door, “—we got locked in here for the game.”

“He’s paranoid,” Grant interjected.

“Well, yeah, maybe,” Brennan retorted. “Or just cautious. Because Sam’s been acting weird lately, and we’re coming up to the last few records of the season, so he’s probably planning something way out of the box for the finale. And the original cast was you, me and Beardsley, so…”

He shrugged one shoulder meaningfully, and Grant nodded, conceding both the point and the potential for chaos.

“So if Sam comes in to give us the briefing, rather than waiting til we’re on set,” Brennan continued, “or there’s anything else weird going on, I’m gonna know about it right from the beginning.”

He turned to the Doctor. “The only reason I'm not quizzing you is because I know for a fact Beardsley was genuinely scheduled for this, so you can't be a plant by the production team. No offence.”

“None taken,” the Doctor smiled. “That sort of thing happen often, does it?”

Grant and Brennan exchanged a look. 

“More than you'd think,” Grant answered with a grimace. 

“Alright,” the Doctor said slowly, then brightened. “So what is it we're actually doing?”

Grant gave him a disbelieving glance. “You don't know—?”

“Very last minute fill-in,” the Doctor said breezily. “But don't worry, I'm a quick study.”

“Well, you're not that much worse off than the rest of us,” Brennan said encouragingly. “You know about Game Changer, obviously, if you know Sam, and we only find out the rules of the game once we get on set. Hopefully,” he added, with a dark look back at the Out of Order sign. 

The Doctor nodded. No, he didn't know Sam, and he didn't know Game Changer, but he could work out the situation from context clues. This was a game show. And with the Toymaker banished, and Satellite Five not coming into existence for another 198000 years, give or take, he found himself smiling. Maybe third time would be the charm. 

“Mmm, hopefully they aren't going to throw you in the deep end,” Grant said. “Because Brennan might seem lovely now, but as soon as we get out there, he's a whore for points. He'll stab you in the back and won't even blink.”

Brennan barked with laughter. “Yeah, and you wouldn't?”

“Excuse you, I'm always a goddamn delight,” Grant replied, the very picture of injured dignity. 

“Oh, absolutely!” agreed a new voice. The Doctor turned to the now-open door to see a bearded man in a pinstriped suit smiling broadly. “That's why we keep inviting you back!”

Grant bowed sarcastically. “Why, thank you, Sam. Good to know I'm appreciated by someone here.”

“Always,” Sam replied, gently but firmly ending that particular path of the conversation. He scanned the room, and his eyes lit up when they landed on the Doctor. 

“Ah, you must be the Doctor!” he said with obvious delight, walking over with his hand outstretched. “I'm Sam—thanks for filling in for us, you've made sure we're going to have a good show. Seriously, it's a pleasure to have you here.”

“Aw, cheers!” the Doctor smiled, shaking the offered hand. “Glad I could help out, I'm really looking forward to this!”

“Well, great!” Sam exclaimed, then took a step back, regarding all three players in turn. “Now, folks, I'm just letting you know that we're just about ready to start the record, so if you can start heading down, that'd be great.”

Grant and Brennan nodded—Brennan, the Doctor noticed, with relief. 

“See you down there,” Sam said, smiling. “Have a great show, and—”

His eyes caught on the Doctor's for a second, twinkling. 

“Good luck.”

---

Backstage, the Doctor, Brennan and Grant were marshalled into podium order and given a final briefing from the crew. And then, with a thumbs-up from Kaylin, that was it.

Showtime.

“Get ready for a Game Changer!” came Sam's voice from onstage. “Tonight’s guests: he can shoot off a monologue with laser accuracy; it’s Brennan Lee Mulligan!”

Brennan, his back to the camera as the curtains opened, spun on his heel and, with a stone-cold expression, pointed finger guns straight down the barrel, before letting the facade crack open. “Hi!” he exclaimed, and walked over to the leftmost podium.

“It’s his first appearance, but he’s already on fire; it’s the Doctor!”

The Doctor leant against the archway to the stage and flashed a broad smile towards the camera, then in a few skipping steps, had bounded over to the next free podium. What the hell, why not make an entrance?

“And even in the toughest of mazes, you’ll always be able to find him; it’s Grant O’Brien!”

Grant dipped his lanky frame into an approximation of a curtsey, spreading his arms wide, then sauntered over to the closest podium with a grin.

“And your host, me!” Sam announced, a ring of manic white showing around his irises as he beamed down the barrel of the camera. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

“This,” he continued, pushing his microphone shut and stowing it in his jacket pocket, “is Game Changer, the only game show where the game changes every show. I am your host, Sam Reich!” 

As he said his name, he looked at his hands, front and back, as if he was pleasantly surprised to be himself, then gestured towards the three podiums.

“I am joined today by these three lovely contestants! Now, you understand how the game works.”

“Of course not,” Grant started. “You know we don't.”

“We can't, Sam, that's the whole point of the theatre you've set up here,” Brennan said over him. 

“Not yet,” was all the Doctor said, anticipation starting to drum a tattoo of excitement against the inside of his ribcage. 

“That’s right!” Sam said brightly, shooting finger guns at the camera. “Our players have no idea what game it is they’re about to play. The only way to learn is by playing. The only way to win is by learning, and the only way to begin is by beginning! So without further ado, let’s begin by giving each of our players fifty points.”

The Doctor, biding his time, watched the reactions of his fellow contestants. Grant looked at the front of his podium, checking the point total, and nodding approvingly when he saw that yes, it was sitting at a round fifty. Brennan, on the other hand, was starting to frown.

“Players, Sam says: touch your nose,” Sam began, and Brennan sighed the sigh of someone who wasn’t happy to be proved right.

“Oh, no,” he groaned. “Oh, you son of a bitch. Wasn’t one this season enough?”

He touched his nose anyway, as did the others, and Sam smiled encouragingly. “Sam says: touch your ear.”

When they all did, Sam nodded. “Touch your other ear.”

Everybody held still, fingers on the ears they had originally touched.

Sam beamed. “Easy, players, right?”

“You say that now,” Brennan said darkly. “Which makes it worse, because all you're doing is setting us up for failure.”

Sam gasped, pretending offence. “Would I do that?”

“Yes,” Brennan and Grant replied in unison, which drew a grin from the Doctor and set Sam off chuckling.

“And I'm not having it,” Brennan continued, leaning his elbows against his podium and pointing at Sam with the hand not touching his ear. “You better watch yourself, because I know how this game works, and you're not going to get one over on me.”

“Strong words, Brennan!” Sam said, clearly delighted by this response. “Okay, then, let's start making things a bit more interesting!”

The game continued as per Sam Says usual, some rounds done as a group and some individual. Points were won, sure, but lost slightly more frequently, and even the Doctor found he was having to concentrate to avoid getting caught in the host's traps. 

It was fun. Genuinely, it was like playing a game with friends, and the Doctor felt himself leaning into it. There wasn't any sign of danger—maybe there wasn't a mystery to solve at all, and the TARDIS just decided he needed a total break. 

Well, probably not. But the way things were going, he was able to let himself hope. 

“Alright, players,” Sam said a good few rounds in, just as pleasantly as he would start any other question, and the screen behind him dinged as a new prompt popped up. “Survive the death beam.”

For a second, everything was frozen perfectly still. 

And then came the crash, the explosive noise of heavy machinery moving relentlessly through a drywall set.

The Doctor was already moving. “Everyone down!”

“Duck!” Brennan yelled at the same time.

The two of them hit the ground within milliseconds of each other, but Grant was still paralysed in the face of the giant, science-fiction type laser cannon that had just ploughed through the wall. 

It whined ominously, screaming its way to fever pitch. And then a sharp pain in Grant’s ankle made him stagger, pitching forwards onto the carpet behind the podiums as the Doctor rolled away to avoid getting pinned.

“Sorry, babes,” the Doctor whispered. “But it was either kick you to get you down, or—”

A hideous metallic screech ripped through the air, and all three of them could feel the crackle of ozone as a beam of energy swept across what had, moments ago, been neck height.

“…Or that,” the Doctor finished with a grimace.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Grant breathed, suddenly very conscious of every inch of his 6’9 frame. “Thanks.”

“Well done, players!” Sam exclaimed delightedly from above them. “But… sorry, I didn’t say ‘Sam says’, so that’s a point off for everyone.”

“What the fuck!” Brennan snapped.

“Are you actually insane?” Grant demanded at the same time, his voice overlapping with Brennan’s.

In response, Sam just wheezed with laughter. “You can come back to your podiums,” he said, cheerfully ignoring them.

Nobody moved.

“Very good!” he acknowledged, and even without seeing his face, the grin was obvious in his voice. “Okay, Sam says: come back to your podiums.”

Although the words were innocuous, and his tone was just as light and breezy as usual, there was nevertheless an edge hiding just underneath the surface. And while the death beam loomed large in the minds of all three players, it was impossible to consider disobedience as an option.

Slowly, they stood, returning to their places. Now they had the time to look at it properly, the death beam was even more sinister, and Brennan and Grant both kept flicking nervous glances its way, ready to move if it looked like it was charging up again.

The Doctor, however, was focused purely on the man standing in front of them. Unbothered, Sam met his gaze like a challenge, a mischievous smile playing about his lips.

“Oh, you’ll love this one,” he said, and the screen changed. “Sam says, starting with Grant: say my name.”

Grant frowned in confusion, but answered quickly nonetheless. “Sam Reich?”

The man himself shrugged tolerantly, moving on. “Brennan?”

Brennan just stared at him coolly. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“Well caught, Brennan!” Sam said happily. “Sam says: say my name.”

“Sam,” Brennan replied, suspicion clear in his voice. “Samuel Dalton Reich.”

He nodded, still with a hint of indifference. “And lastly, Doctor.” His smile broadened. “Sam says: say my name.”

It was easy. Too easy. And as the Doctor looked into the eyes of the man calling himself Sam Reich, he felt his hearts stutter in recognition, because something had changed. He wasn’t hiding himself anymore, and while the face was different yet again, the Doctor would know the shape of that soul anywhere. It was impossible. It was inevitable.

“You can’t be,” he breathed. 

Sam smirked, leaning in across his podium. “Oh, but Doctor… I’ve been here the whole time,” he stage-whispered with a wink.

“He said you lost,” the Doctor said, shaking his head, looking wrong-footed for the first time that Brennan and Grant could recall. “You lost, and he trapped you.”

The other two watched, uncomprehending, but Sam just smiled, drumming his fingers against the podium with an audible beat, fast but distinct. Four taps, four taps, four taps. “I’m waiting.”

The Doctor took a slow, deep breath. Set his jaw. 

“Master.”

---

missed an installment of the game master cinematic universe?

original idea by @ace-whovian-neuroscientist: x

art by @northernfireart concept: x scissor sisters sketch: x sam and his doppelganger: x

writing by me (!) part one (escape the greenroom): x part two (deja vu): x part three (sam says 4): you are here!

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

Jedi Antis: The Jedi are too caught up in politics! They have power to change things, they just don't!

Meanwhile, the Jedi:

Every time they argue with a politician, they are shot down.

I wonder what that could mean? That maybe they don't have as much political power as the antis seem to believe? That maybe *gasp* they were meant to be the victims of Palpatine's manipulation the whole time?

[GIFs aren't mine. Credit to @david-talks-sw ]

[scliffe]

I love the ending for the new anime season very much—it’s sweet and beautiful; and also terribly fitting for the Green Witch Arc.

Ciel’s mental state is constantly represented by the clothes he’s wearing; during his mental escape in GWA, he was wearing these clothes—the debut costume—pristine clean and unadulterated right before he was ripped out of them and defiled. Staying in these clothes forever means denying what he went through—time forever frozen in that moment before he fell from grace—it means denying his past and what has happened to him.

When he wears these; he turns almost childlike and cowardly, clinging to “his brother”, crying and sulking in bed, being terrified of adults, and hating Sebastian—the proof of his sin. But of course he’s unable to remain in escapism forever—and he gets jolted into the cold reality of being in that cage.

In the ending song; he starts the dance in the same clothes he was wearing the night of the ritual—the height of his misery and the night he lost everything he had left. These are the same clothes he is mentally stuck in whenever he gets a PTSD attack—torn, filthy, and miserable; these clothes brought with them the ghosts of his past.

Even the loving family he used to have only serves to make his current situation even more wretched in comparison. He looks at the ghosts of his parents, Madam Red, and Joker, and he slumps down in misery. For a moment he’s lost and adrift in the middle of nothing; missing his anchor. But then he gets up and grabs Sebastian’s hand.

Sebastian pulls him into motion. Ciel still wears these miserable clothes, but he no longer seems lost or haunted by the ghosts of his past. These are the very last clothes he was wearing before he decided to become the Earl of Phantomhive. Whoever our Ciel used to be—the child that he was before he chose to kill himself and took up the name of Ciel Phantomhive—was then “buried” forever in these clothes.

This quiet moment where only the two of them are dancing with wisps of blue represents that moment of transformation—the last moments our Ciel exists as his past self before he dies and the Earl of Phantomhive was reborn. Sebastian holds him as he looks up for the last time and peacefully, with no resistance, closes his eyes.

The frame expands and then we see him dancing with the servants—in the same order that they were found: Finnian, Mei, and Bard. The lighting is warm and luxurious, the servants clap and cheer him on, and he’s wearing gorgeous, expensive clothes—as he always wears when he’s with Sebastian—as the Earl of Phantomhive. This is possibly the cutest footage I’ve ever seen in my life.

And finally; Sebastian holds him up (or more like he climbs Sebastian; which also speaks a lot of their relationship) as he reaches up and grabs the star. This is the role Sebastian has always held in Ciel’s heart—he is his support, his closest, most intimate companion, and perhaps the tool (literally being treated like a ladder) for Ciel to reach his goal; while Ciel also trusts Sebastian not to drop him or let him down.

I don’t think I’ll ever shut up about how Sebastian is the one who pulled Ciel out of that hell—it is my Roman Empire and I will write 999 posts about it. I love how; although Sebastian and Ciel’s relationship may be morally questionable; at the end of the day, Sebastian is still the one who allows Ciel to grow into who he is—to rise and grasp the star with his own hand.

This ending is terribly bittersweet as we watches Ciel’s journey—both his pain, his determination, and the companions he gains and achievement he grasps—as he dances through the waltz.

[kagooleo]

even the biggest beasts need a little love and care when they've evolved (watch your head!)

[spaceships-and-salty-air]

Doctor Who + Reductress Headlines (10/?)

I am not ready for the 60th! Have some reductress headlines I made to cope.

[jedi-starbird]

My Feemor proposal

A popular headcanon for Feemor is that he's a Jedi Shadow. Shadows are spies and basically detectives. Feemor's lineage has a reputation for being eccentric, infamous, and finding trouble everywhere they go. So, walk with me here, Feemor's an eccentric, famous, blonde detective.

This is Feemor.

[rhiangalaxy]

Welcome to Qing Jing! (AU where GYX lives and joins QJP after SQQ's trial)

(edit: Part Two :3c)

[ID: A Scum Villain Drawing. Ning Yingying stands to the left of Gongyi Xiao, smiling with her eyes closed and grabbing onto his arm in excitement. Gongyi Xiao has a slightly flustered but happy expression with one eye closed and his left fist slightly lifted. He is dressed in Qing Jing Robes, primarily green, teal, with gold and silver accents. He is looking towards Ming Fan on his other side. Ming Fan is looking back with a slightly teasing smile, one arm wrapped around Gongyi Xiao's shoulder and his other hand on his own hip. End ID]

[doriana-gray-games]

friendly sherlock this, bickering sherlock that—what if my sherlock was nothing but kind, warm and pretty much looked up to them until getting their heart broken by L at the pub, from which point they're set on never letting them in again. what then??? 😤

Aww, I'm gonna try and rebalance that interaction a little. I realise for that particular combination it was a little too... harsh. It wasn't intended to be quite so harsh and whiplash-y as that combination became.

I'm sorry anon and anon's MC.

L will try their best ofc, to make things right. Not because they think they deserve your forgiveness, but because they simply have to make it right, or better, or try.

Alsoooooo

The moment gave:

Sherlock an excuse to change the dynamic or demand things of L that they didn't before have. (Maybe now u start arguing? maybe now L has to do the chasing? Maybe mc will change RO?)

Me an excuse to write L grovelling and crying.

MC an excuse to get to know the two new ROs, H and A 😌

MC an excuse to complain to Mrs H and W

MC crying (its great, I love it, it has some great effects in ch5.2!)

You don't have to forgive L. But the game will force you to meet them again. Because of multiple circumstances.

But I shall attempt to rebalance the moment at the bar a little, for this mc and L combination—the soft L route was supposed to be a little angsty, but not quite too angsty, if that makes sense.

Me in the future, trying to rebalance it:

[nyaskitten]

Girls who have a divine master who just says "hiss zap zap" 24/7.

[katoska]

I'm fully convinced that the Master has been doing that whole thing where he announces himself to the Doctor and monologues about his evil plan - most apparent with Delgado!Master, imo, but he's not the only one - with the deliberate goal that IF things should go wrong and the newest plan blows up in his face, the Doctor will be there to save him.

Related headcanon: Those early D/M shenanigans reduced the Doctor's sentence by a lot, a reward for good behavior. I mean, it's not even a headcanon. The Timelords literally let Three use his Tardis again so he could deal with the Master. Because the Master had made himself the Doctor's problem. Because he just happened to want to conquer the planet the Doctor was exiled on.

[victusinveritas]

Making Black Tuesday of 1929 just look like Tuesday.

[corallapis]

paul eluard, i cannot be known / jean cocteau, art of style / sandra cisneros, dulzura / ann brashares, my name is memory / james allen hall, the enemy / bound (1996) / micah nemerever, these violent delights / richard siken, the way the light reflects / jean genet, querelle / iain s. thomas, the circle, triangle, square / franz kafka, letters to felice / gabriela mistral, tr. randall couch, electra in the mist

[sskk-manifesto]

I'm fully convinced that here Dazai was laughing himself off because of Akutagawa's dramatic way with words 😭😭😭

[ratwithhands]

Character relations/opinions!

Alright before I post any more Battle Addict stuff I should probably explain what a League Council is. Here's a summarized diagram:

A Pokemon League is a region's network of specialized skilled trainers. It is run by the League Council, which includes finance, HR, marketing, PR, and other managing departments which are divided into different branches depending on who they work with.

This is all to say that everything gets messy very quickly when news of the diagnosis spreads through the network. Originally the diagnosis was supposed to be private information for only the Battle and League departments, however certain higher ups felt it was a safety risk and notified gym leaders as well in the event of future collaborations.

The network is mostly divided into people who are positive/neutral about the news, and people who feel negatively about the twins as a result. Coworkers who were already familiar/close with the two tend to be positive, or at least supportive, whereas those who didn't know them got another reason to avoid them. Some people think they should go on leave for "recovery", but some are more forward and want them terminated.

If you're wondering where Cynthia falls in this, she's a foreign top league worker (Sinnoh Champion) who is hosted in Unova. Basically she has dept. employees assigned to help her connect to people around the region and get different services if requested. She's basically watching everything unfold from the sidelines, with every interview about her opinion boiling down to "lol if you're scared of people stronger than you then get good". She does also bring up historic accounts of CM/HCCM though, mostly to clarify that CM is not a new or scary thing. She's not for or against the twins, rather just hoping to use this as an opportunity to teach others.

I didn't end up drawing her because I got tired but Elesa got the news too!! She actually got it before everyone else since the twins decided to go tell her beforehand. The general scene basically had Ingo and Emmet deliberating in the car, Ingo telling Emmet it's not too late to turn around and go home while Emmet was hesitant but adamant that they needed to tell her first. She probably took it the worst out of everyone but that's mostly just cause it caught her off guard that her friends would just randomly drop in to deliver the news. She's still rooting for them though, mostly trying to support the Subway with more collaborative events to make the twins look better after the hit from the media. She also tries to rework Emmet's restraints where possible, usually trying to make them look more cohesive with the rest of an outfit or trying to make them less visible (cause as much as Emmet says it's not a big deal it's still the first thing he looks at in his reflection).

Here's them in alt clothes :7

Man is cuffed under there (T_T)

Can't really think of too much to say so hope you guys like the art and see you later!

[abominandus]

and now for steven taylor sunday (sequel to this)