#I like drawing characters with antenna. it's just an excuse. sorry I had to give him heart antenna

[daily-hermit-gals]

day 53 - some sketches, from xmaruus "life series in your style" template!

[p0rk-guts]

He's finally done I think. WOAW! Radio demon time!!!

Okay time for comparison + breakdown rant ^ - ^ another SUPER long one I had a lot to say about this silly guy

ALRIGHT. So. Atp all that can be said has been said about Alastor but I'll gloss over it anyhow. Grossly historically inaccurate hair and clothing. Invisible deer theming. One of the main reasons he's got one of the most clowned on designs in the show is bc he's a pretty good representation of the worst it has to offer. He's absurdly red and has the waspiest waist in town. Also gotta zero in on the coat for a second bc I find it incredibly stupid that he went to that tailor bc of his coat being ripped and then left the shop with the exact same torn coat on oh goddd that felt like a complete joke who wrote this

Also his "redesign" was pointless. He stayed pretty much entirely the same except his colors got pinker and grosser and now he has this?? White trim on his lapels??? Even less 1930's accurate and it only serves to hurt the pallate in my eyes. It's the only spot of white on his entire design, it doesn't appear anywhere else so it throws it all off. And it's so bright. Is it supposed to be a focal point?? His tits????

Anyways onto my guy who I love so very deeply. I'm pretty sure sepia film was outdated by the 1930s but I gave him a palette inspired by it to emphasize how dated and stuck in old ways he is. Added blood red accents bc. Well. Cannibal murderer. Also bc I redid the sin colors so red is wrath and it seems like a fitting sin to pair him with.

After looking into 1930's men's fashion a tiny bit (thanks anon, this video was helpful!) and gave him a double breasted coat but wider and pointier so he looks a little less like just some normal guy and really emphasize how prideful and egotistical he is. "Ooo look at me I'm super big and imposing and powerfulll". I think it's a fun character trait of his. Definitely keeping it.

I liked him wearing gloves bc I feel like he wouldn't like getting his hands directly dirty and would always be covered when committing his murders. Maybe he's a germaphobe even. "I can excuse murder but I draw the line at dried blood on my skin". Also the gloves being white would contrast really well with blood so. Love that

I gave him a long tie to free him from the Vivziepop bow tie uniform and a fedora to add to the 1930's vibe and serve as something that can occasionally obscure his face in shadow. His glasses are also opaque and I imagine his eyes would rarely be shown if ever to make him seem more inhuman and off-putting, disconnecting him from personhood a bit. Wanted to add to that with his smiling mouth never opening and just being a static grin that can only occasionally widen or lessen, his voice cracking out of his "speaker" with fuzzy radio static. Seen multiple ppl use that idea and it always eats

I love Alastor's silly theatric nature (primarily in the pilot) and I'd probably keep it, but I'd add a layer of uncanny-ness to him where when he's not putting on his silly jovial facade, he gives off an unnerving vibe. Trying to appear approachable and charming and pleasant to lure people in before he's revealed to be less than human. Loveee thattt

I love Alastor being a deer. Predator becoming prey (animal) + "prey animal" lulling people into a false sense of security before striking. Love it. We should be CAPITALIZING ON IT❗So I gave him deer like legs, visible deer hooves, and more readable deer ears + the ham radio tower antenna antlers (sorry 4 calling them horns 💀)

Tried to make it a little more obvious that he's a mixed man of color by giving him dark wavy hair and the faintest hint of lip definition Viv uses in her style. I think it works. He's still not dark skinned tho

LASTLY the mic. Also not an original idea as I've seen tons of others turn it into a carbon mic but turned into a pentagram shape and I love the idea a lotttt so I joined the crew.

AND THAT DOES IT!!!! hope u like him as much as I do hehe. Just 1 supplemental doodle this time sorry :/ showing off how his face is probably obscured most of the time. He's. So hard to draw. I'm just bad at men but I'm tryinggggg guys

Alsoooo I've already finished the drawings for Niffty, Angel, and Husk! Once I've finished their breakdowns I'll add em right to the queue, and then I'll make a post with all of the main 6 together :3

[harinawa]

forsaken gods: pasinaya

I wrote brief interactions among characters to get a feel of their dynamic with each other and because the scenes wanted to be written despite not having any place in the actual novel. Barely did any editing, though, so... here ya go.

Kale + Miggy parenting Aya because like a true-natured potato she's not processing emotions like a Normal Human

                                                𝑷𝑨𝑺𝑰𝑵𝑨𝒀𝑨

                                               (tag.) lit. beginning

She doesn't cry at the burial. 

He knows because he's been watching. Everyone else who knew Leonora Varela-de Luna has tears streaking down their faces as her body was put in a cell. They can't even afford to bury her underground, so the burial took place in a public cemetery, where bodies are stacked in boxes on top of each other. Even after death, the poor still have to pay rent.

Tito Hernan hasn't stopped shaking in silent tears as he watched the sepulcher cover the cell with cement, a hand on Kale's trembling shoulders. Aya stands on their side, face blank as she watches her mother's body sealed from view. Miggy doesn’t know whether to admire or resent her strength; how is she holding herself together?

Like standard, he and his family had offered their condolences. Miggy hasn't talked to the de Luna twins much, not like before, when they were younger, when their world revolved in one-upping each other's team at patintero or giving the heaviest hit on ketchup. As they grew up, their friendship drifted. As his father's reputation in politics soared to new heights, so is his compulsion to pick out his relationships with standards. To his father, everything became a strategy. Even their family's life.

But Aunt Nora was like a second mother to him. Now that he thought about it, cutting ties with the de Lunas was a harsh thing to do, even if it was for his father's political career. 

When he first came, it was Kale who opened the door. Kale, who always looked small and sickly for his age, looked even more haunted, face grim with grief. His amber eyes still shined, though, bright even with the lack of sufficient light. "Yes?" 

"Hi," Miguel clears his throat. "I… I'm not sure if you remember me, but I'm—" 

"Miggy? Of course I remember you," Kale shakes his head at him. "What can I do for you?" 

"Um. I… brought pizza?" 

Kale looks so much like his mother when one side of his lip draws to a frown and his eyebrows furrow, peeking at the pizza box he's holding. "Does it have lots of cheese?" 

"Four layers," he nods in affirmation. Kale doesn't say anything else but pulls the door wide open. Miggy puts his shoe to a side and steps into the living room on his socks. The place looks smaller than he remembers, but only probably because he'd been smaller when he was last here. 

They moved around their furniture and the walls are now a soft blue instead of the peeling white before. A few more pictures and certificates were added on the wall and trophies on the shelf near the television. It's an old model of television, still with an antenna, and he catches it playing the afternoon game show with blurred corners. He catches himself thinking of giving them the television in his bedroom—which he doesn't use at all, because he prefers using his computer.

The house obviously lacked one more person though. For this, he turns to Kale, who's cutting open the strings around the pizza box. "Where's your sister?" 

Kale snips the string and pulls it away. "Went to the market to buy dinner."

"But it's only past three."

"A lot of people stop at the market by five—there's almost no jeepney that isn't full by then, and Aya hates crowds. Besides, she has to cook when she returns, anyway."

Miggy sits down on the long couch while Kale goes to the kitchen to get them some glasses and a pitcher of water.

"It's been a while," Kale says when he returns, setting down the glass and pouring water for him. "Were you at the funeral?"

"Yes," Miggy nods. "But I was far away. Condolences, by the way."

Kale nods. There seems to be no proper response to people offering you condolences. Thank you for being sorry for me? I'm sorry about my loss too? Sometimes there are things better addressed with silence.

Miggy, for the lack of response, opens the pizza box and gestures for Kale to take one, which he obliges easily. The latter sits on the carpet opposite his, leaning on the legs of the single-seater couch with his knees together.

"How are," Miggy clears his throat, staring down at his pizza slice. "How is Tito Hernan holding up?"

"Could be better," Kale admits. "He doesn't leave his room these days, and when he does it's to drink with the neighbors. The University sent a letter the other day, officially terminating his position as professor. He finally became too much, even for them."

"You know my father's office is always looking for people like him," Miggy comments off-handedly. "I think they pay even more than the university."

"We'll suggest that to him but he probably would just ignore it," Kale shrugs. "He's been ignoring us a lot these days too. It's… it might be too much on Aya."

"Yeah?"

"She hasn't cried since Mom died," Kale swallows, turning the half-eaten pizza in his hands. "I know I don't want her to be sad, you know, but… she didn't cry at all. That's not normal, right?"

"Maybe she cried on her own?" That's possible. Miggy's all too familiar with that. Staying in the mansion, often all on his own, was too fucking lonely. He's had a lot of alone time.

"I hope so," Kale sighs. "I would've liked it better if she cried. She shouldn't deal with this on her own. If she keeps being silent like this…"

Kale just clicked his tongue, shaking his head. When they were kids, Kale often boasted about how he was the older twin by so and so minutes. Aya always reasoned that she was older because she was the one who held Kale up as his hold on their mother was weak, making the pregnancy delicate. Miggy, as an only child, was often envious of the bond they shared with each other.

"We have to be strong for her," Miggy bites into the pizza and chews. "Knowing Aya, she'd hate to be treated like we're tiptoeing around her."

"She would," Kale agrees, but then pauses, looking up at Miggy with a frown. He even inches closer, peering up at him with such huge eyes that Miggy blushes in embarrassment. "What?"

"We. You said ‘we’," he places the pizza crust on the inside cover of the box. "You're not leaving again?"

"Well," Miggy shifts, uncomfortable. "I still have to get home and stuff. But well… I can still stay around. If you'll have me."

He doesn't want to attempt to explain why he suddenly didn't talk to them anymore, or why he suddenly wasn't their friend anymore. Anything he says will sound like a crappy excuse.

Kale stares at him for a long time that Miggy feels slightly unnerved in his seat. The twins' eyes are too peculiar for people who live an average life; something about their golden shade makes the hairs on his arms rise.

But that's the thing about the de Lunas that not everyone knows about. They do not ask you for reasons; they just understand.

The corner of Kale's lips lift. "Alright." //end

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Give You a Heart

A/N: Hey lovelies! To celebrate the release of FNAC Remastered, I figured I’d post an old fic of my favorite animatronic from the series: Blank! I wrote this back in 2016 during Valentine’s Day and I’ve made some revisions since my writing’s a little different now. I also added an extra little ending!

On another note, I hc his voice to sound like David Near’s interpretation of him. I adore it a lot! (the original video is deleted so this SFM is all I could find)

Summary: Child!Reader is eager to celebrate Valentine’s Day at their favorite restaurant, Candy’s Burgers and Fries. They wanna share their love and appreciation for Blank, although when they find him in a decrepit state and behaving strangely, will they be scared off or will they overcome their fear and see that he isn’t a heartless monster?

When your parents pushed open the glass doors, you immediately grinned and ran inside, pausing to take a whiff at the familiar smells of hamburgers and french fries.

It was a delicious aroma you’ve grown quite accustomed to ever since you started visiting Candy’s Burgers and Fries on their grand opening. While you’ve liked Freddy Fazbear’s Pizzeria’s characters, you weren’t really a fan of their greasy pizza and putrid smells of oil and old pennies. So your parents decided to take you here instead after that place got shut down from technical errors and several violations from the local health department.

“Welcome to Candy’s Burgers and Fries!” A cheerful employee greeted you and your parents. She was wearing a headband with heart antennas since it was Valentine’s Day, after all.

“Thank you!” You waved to her as your parents took you to the dining room, where Candy and Cindy were performing on stage, singing “I Can’t Help Myself” by The Four Tops.

However, you weren’t particularly interested in visiting them, but, rather, someone else who you’ve made a friendship with since day one.

You clutched your backpack and looked to your parents, giving them the classic “puppy dog eyes”. They knew immediately what that meant and smiled, giving you the okay to go as long as you were back in 20 minutes.

“Thank you!” After you hugged them, you took off and skipped off to the Drawing Room, hoping there weren’t too many kids there already.

...only to find that Blank was nowhere to be seen.

The boxes of crayons and markers were still in their respective boxes on the tables, rather than being open and scattered all over the checkered floor. You frowned slightly, disappointed, although when you saw an employee enter the room, grumbling about a “goddamn machine”, you approached him.

“Excuse me, mister..where’s Blank?”

“O-Oh! Hey, kiddo!” He forced a smile, putting a wrench in his back pocket. “Uh..I’m afraid Blank’s not feeling too well today. The holidays can be tiring for him so..come back tomorrow and he’ll be fine.”

“Awh, I promised I’d see him today.” You pouted. “But alright.”

The employee simply nodded and headed out of the room. With a sigh, you decided to return to your parents, and maybe see Chester along the way.

But as you left the Drawing Room too, you ended up being lost in a section of the restaurant, where there were no decorations or even posters. It made you feel uneasy, but you kept walking.

Rounding the corner, you stopped when you saw a door labeled “Storage Room”. Although common sense told you not to go in there, curiosity got the best of you as you opened the door anyway.

It creaked rather loudly, and you froze as you heard a robotic voice on the other side.

"Who’s there?”

It took you a moment, but you grinned as you recognized the voice to be none other than-

“Blank!” You giggled, entering the room and closing the room. “It’s me! Don’t you remem....”

However, your eyes widened in shock as you saw him sitting against the wall. He looked badly damaged, with cracks and holes in both his head and chest area, as well as his left forearm missing its covering and the hand on that same arm being completely gone. His suit seemed old and dirty, with faded drawings still scribbled on him.

He didn’t look anything like the Blank you’ve met last time.

Gasping, you rushed over to him and sat down, looking at him up and down. “B-Blank..what happened..?” You reached out to him, although you jumped as his right hand suddenly shot out and grasped your arm tightly. “O-Ow!”

“What do you think?” He snarled in a deeper voice, pulling you towards him as his eyes narrowed and began glowing. “Y-Y-You did this...to me. You all treated me like I’m trash..you brats have no respect for things that don’t belong to you!!”

“Y-You’re..hurting me..” You whimpered, tears pricking your eyes as you put your hand over his. “Blank...s-stop..”

The canvas animatronic chuckled, although when he saw your tears, that’s when he returned to his senses and realized what he was doing. With a robotic gasp, he released his grip, recoiling his hand. 

“O-Oh no..I’m...so sorry....[y/n].” He mumbled, horrified at the bruise that started forming on your skin.

“I-It’s okay,” you tried reassuring him, hiding the bruise, but it seemed far too late as Blank looked away from you in shame. “I-I know you’re not feeling well and I...I should’ve listened to that man but...I just wanted to see you so badly! I promised you I would.”

He looked back at you, surprised. “E-Even after what I did..you still want to see me?”

“Of course! You’re my favorite!” You grinned as you took off your backpack, pulling out a small box of crayons. “Mind if I draw something on you?”

“...sure, as long as it’s not just..random scribbles, you know..”

“Never. Every drawing I give you has meaning.” You giggled once more.

Blank smiled in relief. You were special to him, as every time you came to Candy's you always went to see him no matter what. And you'd always draw something nice on him, as opposed to the messy scribbles the toddlers would put all over him.

Around the other kids, his voice was programmed to be monotonous, as his name is "Blank" after all. But around you, he felt more...comfortable speaking to you freely, and actually expressing what robots usually lacked: emotions.   

"So what’s your idea?"

"A heart."

He blinked for a moment. “Ah, it’s Valentine’s Day isn’t it? I should’ve known but...you see um..” As he gestured to the hole in his chest, he was surprised to see that you were drawing the shape of a heart around it.

"I know you guys don't have hearts," you explained, filling in the remaining space around the hole with the same crayon. "So I decided to give you a heart!"

If robots could blush, Blank's face would surely be as red as that crayon right now. He was stunned by your generosity..even after you saw what he looked like and the way he attacked you so viciously.

“I’m sorry the others are treating you like trash,” you frowned, before a smile returned to your face. “But I promise..when I grow up I’ll work here and look after you. I’ll make sure nobody’s ever mean to you again.”

Chuckling, he looked at you with a smile. “Thank you, [y/n]. I hope to see you then.”

“Of course! And Blank?”

“Hm?”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my bestest friend.”

“...haha, same to you, best friend.”

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

“Goddamn machines. Can you all stay in one place, please?” You huffed as you sat in the swivel chair, looking around the cameras on the monitor.

It’s been at least a decade or so since you’ve made a promise to Blank that you’ll look after him. You ended up getting hired as a security guard for the animatronics, so in a way...you did keep your promise.

Usually Blank stayed in the Drawing Room, inactive although he occasionally turned his head towards you, giving you an odd stare. But then again the other animatronics acted weirdly, too, so you just focused on your job and made sure they didn’t get into your office.

When you checked that room, though, your heart dropped into your stomach upon seeing that he was nowhere to be found. 

“Shit..” Frantically looking at the cameras, you finally spotted him on CAM 05. 

He seemed to be right in front of your office, exactly where the window before was. Then he twisted his body and retracted his fist, looking directly into the camera as he punched-

“AH!” The sound of shattering glass made you shift away from the desk as shards spilled onto the desk, knocking some of the items onto the floor.

After that you were plunged into total darkness, despite knowing damn well you still had power left over.

But you held your breath as you heard clanking footsteps, shakily taking out a flashlight. When you flicked it on, you saw Blank looming over you, his eyes glowing.

You then shined the light on a familiar spot on his chest, your worries dissipating as you smiled warmly. “You still got a heart, huh?” You chuckled.

He closed his mouth, blinking a few times in surprise, before he examined you closely and finally recognized you.

“...[y/n]?”

[lillegalloli94]

Moonlit Café

Back when I was in my last semester of college, I took a creative writing course and wrote a short ten-minute play called “Moth to the Flame” about a moth that fell in love with a spider and went to spend her last night with her. Since that play ended tragically, I’ve since imagined those characters in different scenarios and, of course, one of those scenarios is a coffee shop au.

Click… Click… Click… Click…

The mindless noise pinging by her ear was all Allura could do to keep herself awake in this late, dead hour.

Click… Click… Click…

The Moonlit Café prided itself in serving the nocturnal crowd into the darkest hours of night. Be it 3pm or 3am, they had a coffee fix for all types, from the earliest bird to the latest night owls. Of course, that did mean someone had to man the front line, and that someone, five days a week, was none other than Allura herself.

Click… Click…

She didn’t mind it too terribly. She was a moth herself so such a schedule was natural for someone like her. She didn’t have an issue with the hours itself but in the lack of action she typically saw on an average day. There were the regular patrons that liked to take advantage of the cool, quiet atmosphere; they’re the ones that kept the graveyard shift alive and kicking. But between those revitalizing few, was nothing but the smell of coffee, the lingering sweet air from the pastries and mindless, almost automatic, clicking.

Ding!

The front door’s bell chimed, a sudden shift but not alarming enough to encourage professionalism in Allura’s stature. The most her body would manage was get herself ready to ring up the customer at the till.

“Welcome to the Moonlit Café. Will you be dining in house this evening or to-go?”

“To-go,” a deep, husky voice spoke back to her, drawing her eyes up from the screen to find her patron staring down at her with dark, expectant eyes.

Now, Allura has dealt with spiders before and was self-assured that they never gave her pause for alarm. Sure, there were still people that would insist that they’d gulp her down in a second if given the chance, but she never took such warnings to heart. She’s seen small and cute little jumpers. She’s talked with gentle giants much too aware of their overwhelming size to want to hurt anyone. But this…this was possibly the first time she ever felt her chest seize up, her heart stilling and her breath catching in her lungs, under a spider’s striking gaze.

“Hello?” she waved a hand towards Allura, “Still there?”

Her normal body functions rebooted and her brain remember that she still had a job to do. “Y-Yes, sorry about that.” she straightened up her posture, her eyes looking much more awake and her antennae perked from their droopy dog positioning. A quick clearing of her throat and a kind smile and she was ready to serve. “What can I get for you?”

She followed her hand, long, slender fingers wrapping around her chin as she pondered the menu, “Hm… let’s go with a small mochaccino. Extra milk and whip cream.” she said, pointing towards the item’s picture display.

Allura tapped away on the till, ignoring the stabbing sensation ramming through her body while using up every fiber of her willpower to keep her hand from shaking. “Will that be regular or decaf coffee for your mocha?” she asked.

“Oh, decaf then.” she answered, the soft upturn in her tone sending a soft fluttering sensation through Allura’s stomach.

“Alright…” she successfully managed to restrain herself from squeaking out, “Will that be all for you?”

“Yep, think that’ll do it for me.”

“Gotcha. And…” she reached for a cup and braced her pen against the side, “could a get a name for you?”

Her spider guest stared at her for a moment. She supposed it was a strange request with it just being the two of them, but Allura considered it the perfect excuse to learn this new customer’s name. She was just doing her job, after all.

“Just Eva is fine. You don’t want to try writing my full name on that tiny thing.” she told her with a soft chuckle, waving off the idea of even trying to attempt the impossible.

“Just Eva, then.” Allura muttered, taking a second to make her penmanship as pretty as she could against the curved surface. She even went as far to as add a curling heart at the end of her name. “I’ll have it ready for you in a sec.”

Allura turned from the front counter and walked closer to the machine. She set the cup down with a soft tap and lifted her arms to let a second set of limbs sprout free from her sides. A couple extra hands always got the job done faster but she more liked the flare four arms could accomplish as opposed to two. It kept her mind entertained and sane to perform a little show, to add a bit of pizzazz to her coffee making process.

Extra milk, she reminded herself as she poured more into the cup. Extra whip, she shook the can and squeezed on a hearty amount while keeping the spiral neatly coiled. Some cocoa powder to dust it like chocolate snow and some chocolate shavings sprinkled on because why not.

The whole time, she could feel her heart thudding in her chest, her eyes desperately wanting to turn back and gauge her audience’s reception but held tightly to the strain. But she was watching, wasn’t she? This electrifying tingle she felt coursing through veins and tickling the ends of her nerves, she was definitely watching, waiting…staring.

“One decaf mochaccino, extra milk and whip cream.” Allura swallowed down the hum of her racing blood, topping the drink with a domed lid before passing it over.

“Looks good. So, what do I owe you?” she asked her, voice smoother that butter and richer than fresh cream. Her gaze lowered towards her wallet, a perfect display of her lovely lashes that added an extra sultry shade to her already dangerously seductive irises.

Immediately, a thousand answered raced across her brain, most of which pretraining to abandoning her post and taking the rest of the evening off with this late-night patron. But she couldn’t, not over coffee anyway.

Allura eased down those impulsive thoughts and gave her brightest smile that could rival the full moon waiting outside. “Actually, it’s on the house.” Okay, maybe one impulsive thought might have slipped past her.

Her guest gave a concerned raise of her brow, the corners of her lips turning upward in a nervous smile. “You sure about that?” she asked.

She couldn’t just take it back now, that would be even more off-putting. Double-down, she commanded, barking the order to the rest of her body, Double-fucking-down. “Certainly. It’s only a couple of bucks, anyway. Think of it as a free sample.”

She laughed softly, “And you’re positive you can be giving out free samples this good?” she asked, a bit of a smirk on her lips as she eyed the barista.

“You want to pay that badly?” Allura tilted her head, putting on an innocently curious façade.

She laughed a little louder this time, “I’d feel a bit better knowing my drink won’t be putting you in some future trouble.”

“Oh, if that’s what you’re worried about, it’ll be fine. The owner is one of my best friends. The worst she’ll do is take it out of my pay and I can live with that.” she said, unable to keep the bubbling giggle from escaping her lips. “However… if you really want to offer compensation, then perhaps… could you tell me what your full name is?” 

She could see the intrigue starting to come over her eyes again, flickers of bewilderment and a hint of suspicion rising in her gaze. 

Allura waved a hand, “No need to worry, I don’t plan on doing anything wicked with it. You’ve just got me curious about how long your full name would have been.”

The spider considered it, studying Allura’s eyes and possibly deciding how much she could trust her. She must have figured she could trust her word decently enough judging by the returning smile on her lips. She reached for her drink, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup and lifting it off the counter. “It’s Evangeline.” she said, tipping her cup slightly towards her server before turning, “Thanks for the drink.”

“Have a nice night.”

The door’s bell chimed again, a soft thud from the closing door leaving a gentle ringing in the air before everything died down into silence once more. It was then, when everything was still and her spider visitor’s figure disappeared into the dimly lit, midnight air, did Allura find it the perfect time to officially freak-the-fuck out.

Each of her four hands grabbed at her thick, rosy locks, pulling the hair over her face and squealing into its voluminous mass. What was that, her heart raced in her chest. What even was that?? The organ pumped harder and faster, feeling like it was about ready to explode in her ribcage. Is this death? Is this what death feels like? But it felt so warm and freeing and, honestly, kind of good too. No, actually, really good. The scared tingle of adrenaline tickling at the back of her head was amazing, like her body was truly living for the first time.

Her upper hands lowered her hair from her eyes, her glistening, pleading gaze searching the glass door and begging for her spider to come back sooner. To give her another dosage of her piercing eyes. Another taste of her dark chocolate voice. Another feel of her incredibly intimidating, towering stature. Allura already felt herself addicted to the spider’s surplus of flavor. And the icing on top, the juicy cherry sitting right on the peak, was that enchanting song of a name.

Evangeline. 

Evangeline. 

Had she ever known a name as enticing as Evangeline? Had she ever known one as charming, as stunningly gorgeous, as Evangeline? Surely not. She would have remembered. She would have been prepared for the striking beauty of the letters that made up Evangeline. This was new. A deep fascination. A worthwhile obsession. All for the spider known only as Evangeline.

(Disclaimer: I don’t drink coffee but I love the idea of cafes)

[omgkatsudonplease]

I love when you do things like this! Song: Feelings by Hayley Kiyoko :-)

thanks! it’s always a good way for me to challenge myself and get my writing brain going again 🙏

the character anzwei kuhn is stolen wholesale from @exile-wrath! thanks pal

The Armistice Ball is a roaring success, which naturally means Viktor, Crown Prince of Neva and scion of the House of Nikiforov, wants to leave.

He supposes that it’s a bit cliche, sorta like all those Terran holofilms that Gosha likes to watch so much. A privileged little prince, hating the fact that he has it better than most of the people in the world. He should at least smile, and wave, and make nice with the people he needs to be nice to. But even that feels like it’s too much. 

Compliments slide off him like water as he wends his way through the crowd. People know him even through the mask on his face; they bow to him and say all sorts of pleasant nothings. The weather, how good he looks tonight, would he be interested in spending time with them later? 

“I have a pleasure ship docked at the spaceport, if Your Highness would like to see it,” an Allegrian purrs at him, looking up through her long, inky lashes. He can smell the musk of her scent: aggression, passion. Nevans have so many opinions and stereotypes about Alpha Allegrians, and he’s sure she’s quite lovely when she isn’t publicly broadcasting her availability to the entire planet. 

He makes his excuses, but he’s barely taken two steps away when he finds his path blocked by the Kerri delegation. The leader of the bunch sizes him up and down, their iridescent eyes shining enigmatically. Despite that, Viktor can sense much of the same feelings rolling off of them as from the Allegrian.

Sure enough, the Kerri in question then tilts their head, their antennae bobbing and pulsing in excitement. “Truly, it is an honour to meet you tonight, Prince Viktor,” they drawl, in a voice that reminds Viktor of a paper bag crumbling. “I’ve heard so much about you. Is it true that you could –” 

Viktor’s tempted to turn off his translator. He didn’t really need to know what people are saying about him on Kerr. But instead he smiles, shaking his head. “I have never heard of anything like that,” he replies, before sending a long-suffering look towards Yakov, his mentor and the Royal Advisor to the King. Yakov nods towards another cluster of foreign guests, so Viktor takes a breath and makes his excuses to the Kerri delegation.

“We are the Mandalans from the Neva-Mandala Exchange Programme,” says the first person when Viktor draws closer. “And we are gratified that Your Highness has chosen to greet us personally.”

Viktor smiles. The Mandalans bow, one hand folded across their chests. He copies them as well as he can. 

“And I am gratified to receive your delegation this evening,” he replies. “May the Emperor rule for many more centuries.”

“May the Emperor rule,” agrees the first Mandalan. The others mutter stuff much to the same extent. 

“What are your names?” Viktor asks, curiously testing the emotional waters around them. As expected, all he runs up against is a blank, contrasting with the high-strung hysterical adoration or slippery political posturing from so many other guests. 

“Anzwei Kuhn,” says the first Mandalan. “And these are my colleagues, Cale Serfe and Seung-gil Lee.”

Viktor hums. “How are you enjoying Neva, then?”

“It has been satisfactory,” replies Anzwei. “The hospitality accorded to us at the University of Moyka is acceptable.”

Viktor isn’t sure if that’s a translation error, or if the Mandalans really intended to be such harsh graders of Nevan hospitality. The fact that he can’t discern their true emotions on the situation makes everything much harder. 

Nevertheless, he smiles, gesturing towards the rest of the ball. “Well, enjoy yourselves. If you have questions, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

At his next respite, he goes to seek out Yura. The younger prince is in avid conversation with a Beta Allegrian with dark hair and a surly expression; he glowers at Viktor as he draws closer. “You stink of neediness,” Yura bites out.

“You should greet more people than just old friends,” Viktor says, looking sidelong at the Beta Allegrian. “Otabek, right?”

“Yes,” says Yura. “He’s just told me about his new mediatorship.”

“Really? Congratulations.” Viktor nods at Otabek. “To whom?”

Yura’s expression grows pinched. “Leroy has mated,” he growls, with about as much disdain as if he’d just stepped in a glob of Eterian slime. 

“Oh, congratulations to them, too.” Viktor has no idea who Leroy is, but they’re probably an Allegrian, and Yuri probably hates their guts. He decides not to press the issue further, clapping the younger prince on the shoulder. “Anyway, I think I’m going to step out for a bit, so if you want to take over all of my duties, I’ll owe you –”

“Ugh, who’s caught your eye tonight?” mutters Yura. 

“I – that’s a gross exaggeration. I don’t always end up with –” Viktor sighs. If he can’t even defend his reputation from family, how can he hope to do it with strangers? “You know I don’t. You know. Bond-bond.”

“But you do temporary ones,” Yura points out. “Everyone’s seen those, splashed all over the tabloids the next morning.”

“Those aren’t real.” Viktor waves a hand. Could anyone really blame him for wanting to experience someone else’s emotions for a little while? To have the same intense point of unity without the sticky legalese of a permanent bond? No one could become the strongest empath in the galaxy – and the most talented one in Nevan history – without the accompanying hole inside them where their own feelings should be. 

“Not real, sure, but still. Just say someone’s caught your eye and go, already,” hisses Yura. Viktor squeezes his shoulder, then, with a little bracing twinge, before skipping off into the crowd. 

He’s just making his way past the fountain when he collides with someone, splashing blue wine down the front of his uniform. The person splutters, embarrassment flashing bright across his cheeks. Viktor’s heart does a double take.

They’re the most beautiful Terran he’s ever seen. A shock of dark hair over skin that glows warm like firelight, eyes that sparkle like topaz. For a moment, the world around them seems to go deathly silent, all other emotions fading into static. The clarity sends a shiver down his spine. 

He’d only ever read about these sorts of encounters before. Very few Nevans get to experience such perfect moments of clarity, but in the presence of another it takes on an intensely intimate meaning. Viktor can only distantly hear his own voice as he apologises to the Terran, who takes a step back, eyes widening. They say something about their drink, gesturing to their glass. Viktor tries to will his mind back to Neva to catch what they’re saying. 

“I’m so sorry,” the Terran says. Viktor is suddenly rocked by a bolt of their intense curiosity and attraction.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “I’ve been looking for an excuse to ruin this.” He bows to the Terran, smiling at the pink flush in their cheeks. He knew their blood was red, but to see it manifested so is honestly fascinating. “Your outfit is excellent, by the way. But did no one tell you it was a costume ball, not a strip club?”

The Terran bypasses pink and lands right on red, their hands coming up to cover the daring mesh panels on their flamboyantly-cut Nevan suit. “I’m going to murder Phichit,” they mumble. Viktor has no idea who Phichit is, but he suspects they’re going to need to explain why they’d decided to dress their friend in Nevan bondage gear pretty soon. 

“It’s really no matter,” he says. The Terran’s outfit may be a shade too scandalous for a royal ball, but he’s already seen worse ensembles out there. “As strip club outfits go, it’s positively classy.”

“I knew I should have covered up,” says the Terran, shaking their head. “I’m so sorry if I’ve offended your gaze or something. I’ll just –”

“No.” The word blurts out of Viktor before he realises it. “I mean – here.” He unclips his cape, a soft satin-and-fur affair that he only ever wears to formal events, and drapes it over the Terran’s shoulder. “Now you’re modest.”

“Thank you,” mumbles the Terran. “Remind me to murder my friend, too.”

“I’ll be sure to,” replies Viktor. “In the meantime, could I tempt you with a dance?”

He suspects that all the available cameras in the room are now trained on this moment, as the Terran nods and takes his hand. They head out into the other whirling couples, moving in time to the music. The cape flows rather fetchingly behind the Terran as they step together. 

“You know Nevan dances?” asks Viktor, quirking an eyebrow.

“I pick things up,” says the Terran. “My childhood dance instructor was well-travelled.”

Viktor beams. He’s wearing gloves to avoid scandalous touches, but even through the fabric he can sense some of the Terran’s emotions. Besides, they’re broadcasting most of it in their expressions – trepidation, nerves, with an undercurrent of excitement.

And some confusion. They don’t have any idea who Viktor is. 

Viktor wants to know more. “I don’t recall seeing you on the guest list,” he says. “Someone as attractive as yourself would be memorable.”

The Terran looks down, almost demure. “I’m not – I’m a companion,” they say. “My friend Phichit and I are companions for the crew of the Firebird?”

“Mila Babicheva!” Viktor had known Yuri was trying to lure her back home; he had no idea that it’d actually succeeded. “How is she?”

“She came here for a royal pardon. Would you happen to know Prince Yuri? Apparently he’s supposed to give it to her.”

“That’s irresponsible of him,” remarks Viktor. “He can’t just give out royal pardons to anyone.” 

The Terran freezes. “Wait, does that mean –”

“I know Prince Viktor could,” continues Viktor. “I think he could be persuaded, if you know what I mean.”

There’s a pause, and then the Terran’s brows knit adorably. “I’m… I’m not sure,” they manage. “I hear things about Prince Viktor.”

Viktor almost preens. Almost. “What have you heard?”

“He rejected all of the options the Royal Matchmaker provided for him,” parrots the Terran, almost like they’re quoting a Starboard post about how problematic the Crown Prince of Neva is. “Supposedly he’s some irrepressible playboy or something.” 

Viktor laughs. “If he’s a playboy, why would he need a matchmaker?”

“You’re the Nevan, you’d probably know better.” A pause, and then the Terran pauses, flushes hard. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I mean. I guess it’s a bit strange?”

“You don’t seem to know much about Neva,” Viktor remarks. 

“I’m sorry!” pleads the Terran. “It’s my first time here; I’ve only ever seen pictures and heard stories from Mila. Please don’t arrest me!”

Viktor shakes his head, putting on his best fake-serious expression “We don’t do arrests on Neva. We just kill the offenders.” It’s a terrible joke, but seeing the Terran squirm is a little too entertaining. Still, after a moment he can’t handle it anymore and bursts out laughing. “I’m sorry, that was – we haven’t executed someone in over a standard century.”

“First time for everything,” replies the Terran grimly. Viktor chortles. 

“Well, to answer your question,” he begins, but then the song draws to an end. Viktor spies the door leading out onto the balcony and pulls the Terran there, his heart immeasurably light at how willing the Terran goes, curiosity oozing from their every pore. “The Royal Matchmaker designates candidates suitable for marriage into the Royal Family. However, Prince Viktor has frequently been spotted enjoying the company of other beings, flouting official fraternisation protocol.”

The Terran is silent about that for a moment, their hands skimming across the crystal railing of the balcony. The entire structure glimmers in the moons’ light; the planet’s rings hover just a couple degrees short of perpendicular to the horizon. 

“Why would he want to do that?” the Terran asks after a moment, looking up at Viktor through their lashes. Viktor finds it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Well, when they look so beautiful…” he trails off, swallowing. “I mean. I don’t know. Maybe he’s just really lonely.”

“Lonely?”

Viktor nods, slowly drawing off one glove. The Terran’s gaze rivet to his fingers, their eyes wide. “Well, he doesn’t like any of the prospective candidates, and he’s wondered for so long if maybe…”

His fingers are just bare centimeters from the sides of the Terran’s face. Everything grows hushed, as if the universe is holding its breath.

Viktor is barely aware of his own words. “Maybe the one who makes his world stop, the one who he’s destined to be with is not from Neva at all.” He’s feeling something – so many things – and for once he’s certain it’s not just the curiosity and attraction that rolls off the Terran in waves. It’s his own emotions, slowly bubbling to the tips of his fingers now breaths from the Terran’s skin.

The Terran tilts their head, unconsciously presenting their lips. Viktor knows that’s how they kiss, and in this bright, burning moment he wants to indulge the Terran in that custom, and perhaps plea for them to stay longer – 

And then there’s the sound of an explosion, and seconds later the bright crystal shrapnel of the glass ballroom comes flying at them. 

[ryuko-rose]

And here’s your main everyone

I’m having it be Heat for several reasons; I was originally going to make this from Hammerface’s POV, but after realizing there was a danger of self-insert/author avatar and Hammer was most likely already very experienced with a lot of history (0 series combat experiment) I decided to make Heat the main instead. (And it isn’t Angel because I don’t really like her character, sorry)

So anyways:

Bio: Intended as a powerful energy based experiment, Heat ended up with an early deactivation after it was discovered his behavior was completely unlike that of a normal fire or energy experiment; he wasn't hyper, lacked a temper, and preferred to observe instead of rushing into tasks. Heat was all around...slow for an energy experiment. Jumba, seeing him as an anomaly and being slightly disappointed, took to creating Witch (610) and other, more powerful and evil or aggressive six-series such as 611, 612, and eventually-614, who he immediately spent more time with and gave far more attention to than Heat. Heat received only basic training from Jumba as a result, and ended up relying more on his ability than his fighting skills. He was deactivated shortly after the creation of Gunner (614).

Personality:

(Good)

Easily one of the most approachable (captured) experiments, Heat is extremely friendly and outgoing. He has a very optimistic view of  life (though it can be a bit idealized) and always looks to the good in everything and everyone. In addition, He's very patient and even tempered, giving people a chance whenever possible. Observant and insightful, he can easily see the point of concepts/ideas and can even pick out small changes in interactions and motivations. Heat can also be helpful and very supportive, always offering his support to anyone who needs or wants it, though this can be to a fault. He's very inclusive, but is aware of other's needs and will leave them to themselves (if they want-Thresher and Hammerface especially). Heat's also very curious, always being interested in new ideas and places.

(Bad)

Heat is ridiculously naive, assuming the best out of everyone and everything and often being disappointed when things don't go the way he's imagined them to. Due to his treatment from Jumba in the lab, he can be clingy and jealous. Though he never acts on said jealousy, he does become annoying if he really wants attention. Heat can also be far too generous and forgiving, making excuses for bad behavior and going along with blatantly bad ideas. Moreover, he's very timid and lacks confidence in his abilities, especially fighting skills, and is sensitive to criticism of them. Heat also doesn't stand up for himself and isn't at all assertive, and doesn't handle stressful situations well, being prone to overthinking and panicking/flying off the handle.

Friends: Heat gets along with nearly everyone he meets, though special mention goes to Hammerface, Thresher, Plasmoid, Angel, Hunkahunka, Nosy, Amnesio, Fibber, and Tank. LAB friends would include Houdini, Holio, Slugger, Witch, and Yaarp.  

Enemies: Hamsterviel and Gantu. Hamsterviel for the obvious, along with constantly putting him down and trying to "convince" Heat to his side (which usually devolves to screeching from Hamsterviel because of Heat's questions/reactions). Gantu becomes one after Snafu.

Likes:

His Friends and Family/Ohana: Heat loves making friends, and loves spending time with them even more. He'll often support them and try to stick up for them whenever possible, and is very forgiving towards those in his social circle and family.

Exploring/Sightseeing: Having seen little of Earth and not going on missions outside the lab, Heat is vastly interested and intrigued by Earth, particularly it's weather, atmosphere, and climates. He especially likes exploring the area surrounding Gantu's ship and beaches/waterfalls.

Drawing: After the Dupe episode and due to Heat not having much to do around the ship, he started drawing on the scrap paper he found around the place. He's decent at it, but he does it to alleviate his boredom when his friends (especially Hammerface or Thresher) want to be left to themselves. He gets more into it after the Snafu episode.

Hot Temperatures: Due to his powers being based on thermal energy, Heat loves warm or hot temperatures and always tries to be in the nearest heat source. This can be anything from sunlight shining through a window to warm water or wind, or spicy food.

Spicy/Acidic Food: Especially peppers and lemons; they (spicy food) give Heat a boost in energy and work akin to coffee in Stitch (though black pepper can drain him). He likes the taste of acidic food.

Dislikes:

Loud Noises: This is because of Hamsterviel's constant screaming at him at close range. Heat already had an issue with said noises and his time in the prison cell only made it worse, as Hamsterviel would constantly yell at the experiments and devoted extra time to Heat and the other powerful experiments to try to get them to join him.

Cold: Heat doesn't dislike cold so much as it just drains him of his energy. He can handle it, but it annoys him after a while due to the energy loss.

Sandwiches (particularly the bread): Like plenty of captured experiments, Heat grew repulsed by the sandwiches he lived on and would try to give the bread away (it's too plain and he hates the taste) or ask for something else (fortunately Gantu would sometimes bring in different foods).

Being ignored or passed over: Due to this happening a lot back in the lab with Jumba, Heat can't stand being passed over, especially for a more powerful experiment. Ignoring him especially really disappoints him.

Hurting his friends/Ohana: This is one of the few ways to get Heat truly angry; harming one of his friends or his family WILL push him over the edge and he may either use his power or start avoiding contact with them.

Abilities: Heat can fire a beam of energy from his forehead, and is immune to plasma blasts (instead just absorbing the energy from them). Cold temperatures over time will weaken him, especially cold water*. He's also sensitive to temperature changes in his surroundings (can sense them through the organ on his head or antennae). Heat has had only basic combat training, and lacks good fighting skills (he instead relies on his power).

Miscellaneous:

Not Very Evil: Partially the reason for Heat's behavior is that he received less than the normal amount of "evil formula" during his creation. He's less inclined to use his power for the fun of it and isn't as enamored by destruction as other experiments.

Undercharged: Became this after being remerged, though it's not continuously dropping as Stitch's did in "Stitch Has A Glitch". Heat's charge remains at about 75-80% of what it used to be, though being energy based, this affects him differently than Stitch.

Can Handle Water: So long as it's warm or hot, or the surrounding temperature's hot, Heat can handle being in water. He hates cold water however, due to it sapping his energy and only goes in cold water to get rid of any excess heat energy.

*Cold temperatures are the main weakness due to endothermic reactions/things; they are cold because they absorb heat energy. Exothermic reactions/objects will be hot because they are releasing energy.