#I think when their memories return they have trouble sorting them… trouble figuring out a timeline. but they FEEL

[worldsewage]

"much to Valentine’s dismay." oohhg can I know more...I got a bowl of rice to offer

Valentine is an Octarian elite who has no interest in abandoning her role as such, she is undyingly loyal to the Octarian Army and excelled in military school and was placed in a school designed for elites, she was constructing weapons for as long as she can remember and has ZERO thoughts of ever abandoning the domes. She has made something of herself here and she has issues with communication and comes off blunt and aggressive at times so she struggles keeping/making friends, so the approval of her superiors and the trust the army puts in her is a love good enough for her.

Until Satua, at least.

Valentine, also, has no idea how they found themself in the metro, she woke up with a sense of urgency and a few strange blank memories that made her piece together— with Craig telling her he needs help— that she (probably) needs to act, and help the people around her in order to save something. She has no idea what, and has a building frustration inside her that she can’t name. She thinks she’s doing something bigger than herself. She acts, for a moment, as a hero— an agent 8 in the metro, she plays into this role and feels angry and needed and vital, then more of her memories come back and she gets hit with the Guilt… feeling like a bystander who is trapped inside their own body, watching themselves do and say things they can’t control as her memories idly return, clueing her into the person she is, or was.

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Seeing as how my last au idea, where reincarnated Merlin finds Camelot again, got a ton of support, here's a continuation of that au! You can find part one of this au here.

EDIT: You can find part three of this au here!

Note: Translations for the Old English are at the end!

As a recap, in this au, Merlin died at Camlann and his magic made everyone in Camelot immortal, but they all eventually fall into a comatose state until Merlin returns. Merlin's reincarnated without his magic or memories and winds up as an archeologist working at the site of the ruins of Camelot. While exploring with his colleagues, Merlin accidentally awakens Arthur, whom he thinks is some sort of undead creature, and Merlin is captured by Arthur and the knights along with his colleagues. Arthur and everyone else speak in Old English, so Merlin's got no clue what's going on and assumes that these undead creatures are going to kill him, while Arthur and the knights assume that Merlin has just returned from Avalon and still has all of his memories and magic.

So, without further ado, on to the new stuff! I figured that it would be better to see the next part from Arthur's POV!

For Arthur, waking up had always been a struggle. The morning sun had always been his enemy, mockingly telling him that his time being warm and comfy in his bed was over. But if he had looked forwards to seeing a certainly lanky frame throw his curtains open and wake him up with whatever cheery, inane greeting he had come up with that morning, then that was Arthur's business and Arthur's business alone.

However, when had Arthur sat down in his seat at the round table, barely able to keep his eyes open and knowing that this was the last time he would be conscious for hundreds of years, he was thoroughly looking forward to waking up again. Because when he awoke, his centuries-long wait would be over! His love would be back where he belonged, by his side, and they would have all the time in the world to grow close once more!

And when that glorious day finally came, when Arthur's mind awoke and his eyes opened again, it was to the best sight Arthur could have imagined. Merlin, here in front of him, whole and healthy! Oh, Arthur had dreamed of this day for centuries before his long slumber! Those long centuries without Merlin were grim, with a phantom pain of Merlin's absence lingering within his heart and his life, and the pain was only slightly lessened with the assurance of Merlin's eventual return.

But now Merlin was right here, within his grasp, and they could be together once more! Arthur slowly got his arm, stiffened by centuries of disuse, to move, trying to reach out and touch Merlin, to prove to himself that Merlin was truly here and was not some desperate illusion conjured by his mind. Looking into Merlin's wonderfully familiar eyes though, Arthur knew deep down that this was real.

Before Arthur could get his arm to cooperate, however, four oddly-dressed strangers ran up to Merlin. Merlin yelled in surprise, probably at seeing the strangers running at him, and tried to dodge them, but wound up clumsily falling to the ground instead. Arthur would have laughed at his lover's antics if he heart wasn't pounding with rage at the sight of those intruders grabbing ahold of Merlin and dragging him away!

Arthur finally got his legs to work as the intruders dragged Merlin out of the council room, and shouted as soon as his jaw would allow it, "Gripan híe! Híe syndon fandian to niman Myrddin!"

The others at the round table were startled awake at his shouting, and looked around the room confused. As joyous as Arthur was at seeing his brothers in arms and his lovely wife again, Merlin's abduction was a far more pressing matter. Their long-anticipated and happy reunions would have to wait until after Merlin was rescued from those strangely dressed invaders.

Despite the awful situation, Arthur had the urge to smile at Merlin's situation. It was just like Merlin to get himself into trouble only mere seconds after reuniting with Arthur. Arthur had been so afraid that Merlin would be different when he returned, but it seemed as though that wasn't the case! He was still the same old Merlin that Arthur was so devastatingly fond of, finding trouble anywhere he went!

Still, regardless of Arthur's nostalgia, Merlin was in danger and needed to be saved! After a few seconds, Guinevere and the knights had all woken up properly and had registered what Arthur had shouted, sharing in his panic. However, these intruders were in Arthur's castle, where he had the advantage.

"Hwæt, Guinevere, far to þæm wæpnedhuse and find hwæt wæpnedu sindon gód in þæm stæde. Leon, far and wec þa oþre cnihtas. Hæbbe hí ceorfan of þæm unrihtwisan fleon. Oðer ealdras, fylgað me!"

After shouting out his orders, Arthur pulled Excalibur from its sheath and took off in the direction of the intruders who had stolen Merlin, moving as quickly as his stiff legs would allow. He could hear Percival, Elyan, and Gwaine behind them, their weapons at the ready.

It didn't take long to find the intruders, as they were clearly not familiar with the layout of the castle and had no sense of stealth whatsoever. If they were spies or thieves of some sort, whoever hired them deserved their money back. Arthur just had to follow the sounds of their rapid footsteps echoing off the ancient stone of the hallways.

As Arthur came around the corner to a long corridor, he caught sight of his prey, about halfway down the corridor from him. As they turned back to look at him, he could see the fear etched onto their faces.

Good, Arthur thought, they deserved to be afraid of him after what they had just tried to do. The group of thieves made it only a couple more steps before Leon burst into the hallway from the other side, flanked by about a dozen more knights and cutting off the intruders' escape. The knights made quick work of apprehending the inept thieves and freeing Merlin from their clutches.

Anger welled up savagely in Arthur's chest as he looked at Merlin, who looked rather frightened by this failed kidnapping. He might still be in pain from his injuries at Camlann, and these fools would have no doubt injured him further while they dragged him along with them, sprinting through the castle!

Arthur grit his teeth as fury rolled over him in waves. If he lost Merlin a second time due to these intruders, then there would be hell to pay.

"Hū darrst þū āsceacan hine from mē! Iċ hæbbe bīdode ofer þūsend geara for þisne tīman, and þū ātēowedest tō nīefre hine from mē stelan! Þū scealt āgildan for þis!"

It felt nice to release even the slightest bit of his rage onto these thieves, but Arthur had to keep his priorities straight. Punishing these fools could wait until after he knows more about Merlin's current condition.

Arthur turns his gaze to Merlin once more. Oh, how he had missed his dear Merlin! If only his Merlin's face wasn't marred by fear, but that would change after his would-be kidnappers were safely locked away.

"Nimðað þa ungewelwieras to ðære cyrcan cwellan, wē magon dēmian mid him æfter. Gwaine, nim Myrddin to his geardas and hafa Gaius locian ofer hine. And be mildheort, he sceal hæbbe geferod eft fram Avalon and mæg swilc bēon in pinunge fram his wundum! Gecyða eft to mē mid Gaius's gemetungum þonne hē geendod hæfð."

As hard as it was to part from Merlin's side now that he had just gotten him back, there were still other matters that Arthur had to attend to before he could truly give Merlin the attention he deserved. Still, he knew that Merlin would be in good hands with Gaius and Gwaine, and Arthur would rest easier knowing that Merlin was whole and healthy.

After ensuring that the intruders were securely locked away in the dungeons and awaiting punishment (which would solely depend on how uninjured Merlin turned out to be), Arthur retreated to his study. Now that the whole castle was waking up, he needed to sent out scouts to see how the land around Camelot had hanged, to coordinate with the council to arrange a full head-count of who was awake and see if it matched the last census before everyone fell asleep, to meet with the cook and arrange for their emergency food supplies (which were thankfully also preserved by the same magic that kept them immortal) to be distributed and hopefully keep everyone from going hungry until the next harvest, and to draft a speech to address everyone and get everyone on the same page. The last thing that they needed right now was for chaos to break out, so hopefully keeping everyone well-informed of the situation would allow them to keep everyone's fears at bay.

During his paperwork, one of the guards reported to him that the prisoners were shouting loudly, but in a language that none of them could understand, and they didn't seem to understand anything that the guards told them. Arthur told him to gag them with some cloth for an hour if they got too loud, but otherwise don't bother with it. They could work out some way to get information, like who they worked for and why they had dared to target Merlin, from the prisoners later.

Near the end of the day, had received a report from Gaius that Merlin was completely healthy and unhurt, which abated most of Arthur's fears. However, Gaius also included in his report that Merlin seemed to not be speaking, which Gaius theorized would have most likely been caused by the lasting trauma of his death. A deep pit opened in Arthur's stomach as he read that. He had been so focused on having Merlin back and physically healthy, but he hadn't considered if Merlin would be mentally healthy upon his return. Arthur steeled his resolve that, no matter what condition Merlin was in, he would support his dear Merlin and help him heal from whatever lasting scars his death had left. Merlin had died for him, it was his solemn duty to see that Merlin would recover from it.

As if on cue, Gwaine burst into his chambers, without knocking of course, and gently set Merlin down on the ground. With a teasing wink and a genuine smile, Gwaine closed the door, leaving Merlin and Arthur alone together. Merlin flinched at the sound of the door closing, and Arthur wondered how deep the scars on his mind must be if Merlin looked so frightened even here, in Arthur's chambers, which should be the safest place in the world for him.

Arthur stepped closer to Merlin's shivering form, concerned by the way Merlin pulled back from him. Still, Merlin obviously needed comfort, so Arthur pressed forward and pulled Merlin into a hug, the warm, sappy kind that Merlin had always tried to coax out of Arthur.

Arthur couldn't help the words that spilled out from his mouth next. "Oh Myrddin, hwǣr eart þū bēon?"

Arthur could feel Merlin stiffen in his arms at his words and immediately knew that he had just messed up. Merlin had, of course, been in Avalon before his return, and if Arthur knew Merlin at all, Merlin had probably spent all of his time in Avalon trying to escape, to get back to Camelot and return to Arthur's side. Arthur should have known that Merlin wouldn't like to be reminded of his time being dead!

Quickly, Arthur released a tense and still wordless Merlin from his hold and guided him towards the table, lightly manhandling Merlin into the seat next to Arthur's. Dinner had already been sent up by the kitchen, but Arthur hadn't had the chance to eat any of it yet, so there was plenty of smoked ham and vegetables for Arthur to pile onto Merlin's plate. It was doubtful if there was food in Avalon for the dead, so Merlin's probably starving!

"Ēat, Myrddin, and þæt is ān bebod! Þū eart ǣac þinra þonne ic þē lǣstan gesēah! Þū scealt nū hungor hæbban, swā þū ne eart fēor þæt þū þæt disc fullfremed hæbbe!"

Merlin simply blinked at Arthur and looked at him with painfully blank eyes. Worse yet, his fear was still present on his face. Why was he still afraid? Was Merlin even mentally present, aware of where he was? Or was he stuck in some sort of nightmare conjured by his own mind?

Concerned, Arthur stepped closer to Merlin. However, Merlin still didn't even look at the food on his plate, his eyes stuck to Arthur's face. Arthur tried to move slowly, like he was guiding a particularly skittish horse, and took hold of Merlin's hand to guide it to the fork on the table. Luckily, Merlin seemed to be aware enough to know what to do, as his fingers grasped at the fork and picked it up.

Arthur gave Merlin a smile, hoping to coax him further back into reality. He then guided Merlin's hand, now holding the fork, back towards Merlin's plate, where he led Merlin's hand to stab a nice-sized piece of ham, and then guided his hand to Merlin's mouth.

Merlin seemed to get the hang of it from there, taking the piece into his mouth, chewing, and swallowing. After a quick glance at Arthur, Merlin started eating through the food on his plate of his own accord, which Arthur counted as a victory. Merlin was already showing so much progress!

By the time Merlin had finished the plate, the fire in the hearth was burning low, and Arthur knew that it was time for him to go to bed.

As Arthur stood to walk over to his changing screen though, he heard Merlin speak, which sent his heart jumping up his his throat his surprise and joy.

"Please, what do you want from me? I don't understand."

Arthur whipped around at the sound of Merlin's voice, a sound that time had cruelly eroded from his memories, and he couldn't contain his excitement.

"Hwæt wæs þæt?! Myrddin, hwæt sægst þu? Ic bidde þe secge me!"

Merlin flinched back at his outburst though, stopping Arthur dead in his tracks. Speaking slowly and gently, Arthur tried again.

"Myrddin, hwæt sægdest þū? Mihtest þū āgēan sprecan for mē, þancie?"

Merlin blinked at him again, his eyes filling with tears. Oh no, what happened? Arthur hadn't meant to upset Merlin, he had only wanted to hear him speak again! Before Arthur could try to comfort his distraught lover, to his amazement, Merlin spoke once more.

"I don't know what we did, but please let us go! We'll never come back here again, I swear! Just please let us go!"

Arthur blinked as he tried to make sense of what Merlin was saying. He didn't recognize any of those words. Had Merlin come back from Avalon speaking another language?

Well, Arthur knew that languages changed over time, perhaps Avalon sent Merlin back speaking the language of whatever century they were in now? That would make the most sense after all.

Wait... a minute, if Merlin couldn't speak their language... then that meant...

Arthur frantically set his hand on the table, just a few inches away from Merlin's arm, and spoke as clearly as he could.

"Hwæt, Myrddin, gif þu me understandan mæg, þonne set þin hand on min."

Arthur's heart pounded in his chest as he waited for Merlin to move his hand. He waited and waited, but Merlin just kept looking at him with those painfully blank eyes.

Eventually, Arthur lost his tenuous grip on his grief and rage, and he grabbed a goblet and hurled into the wall with a shout. Why?! Why had Avalon done this?! How could the fates be so cruel as to return his love to him, but place this barrier between them?!

Arthur took a few deep breaths to get himself under control again. He looked over at Merlin, where his lover as practically shaking in his seat. Poor Merlin must have been so confused! To return home only to find that he could not understand anyone! It was no wonder he was so frightened, he had no idea what was going on!

Then, an idea struck Arthur. If Merlin couldn't understand his words, then he would surely understand his actions! Arthur was a man more suited for actions rather than mere words anyways.

Keeping a keen eye on Merlin, Arthur made his way across the room towards a locked chest, one that had not been opened for centuries even before everyone fell asleep. Arthur could not bear to look upon its contents, but he needed to keep them for Merlin's eventual return.

Arthur carefully unlocked the chest and opened the lid, revealing Merlin's few material possessions at the time of his death. It had saddened Arthur deeply, even in the fog of despair that had surrounded him in those days following Merlin's death, to realize that all of Merlin's possessions could barely fill a chest halfway. Even when he was the beloved consort of the wealthiest king in Albion, Merlin lived as though he was still in the poverty that he had grown up in.

Inside the chest sat a few articles of clothing, a couple books of magic, a carved wooden dragon, a few bags, some letters from Hunith and Lancelot, and two gifts from Arthur. Arthur had only been able to give Merlin one of those gifts during his lover's lifetime, but he kept the second gift safe in the chest, ready for Merlin's return.

Carefully, Arthur pulled out his mother's sigil and a delicate silver crown from the chest and made his way back to Merlin.

Merlin was looking at him confused again, so Arthur held up the sigil and, keeping is movements very clear, pressed the sigil into Merlin's hands. To his dismay, Merlin looked at the sigil like he'd never seen it before in his life.

Oh god, were his memories warped as well?! What did he remember?

A thin, hurt voice whispered treacherous questions in his ears. Did he remember Arthur at all? Did he remember the love they had shared, or did he only see a strangers face when he looked upon Arthur's?

At this point, tears were silently streaming down Arthur's face as he swallowed back wailing sobs. He had just gotten Merlin back, and yet he still remains lost to Arthur!

Arthur let out a gasping breath and, desperately hoping for some sort of response, he placed the silver crown on Merlin's head, as he should have done centuries ago. Still, Merlin only looked at him with confusion, and no recognition was sparked in his eyes.

Unable to bear it any longer, Arthur lurched forwards towards Merlin. If absolutely nothing else worked, if this was the only thing Merlin knew of Arthur, then by god let it be how much Arthur loved him.

Closing his eyes, Arthur softly pressed his lips onto Merlin's. Merlin, unsurprisingly, did not respond, likely too shocked at the stranger kissing him. After a couple seconds, Arthur pulled back, not waiting Merlin to get too uncomfortable, and dared to look at Merlin's eyes once more, hunting for any sort of recognition, but only one thing caught his attention.

Merlin's eyes were gold. They definitely weren't golden before.

Arthur stood, frozen, as Merlin seemed to go through some journey within his own mind, his face changing expressions every few seconds. Slowly, though, the golden light began to dim from his eyes.

As his eyes returned to their usual lovely blue, Merlin let out a loud gasp, and looked around Arthur's chambers as if he was only just now becoming aware of where exactly he was. Ever so slowly, his eyes drifted back to Arthur, and Merlin, through the tears that had now gathered in his eyes, let out a gasping laugh.

"Þū ne miht gān ymbe cyssende folc butan gewarnunge swā, þū dolop heafod! Þū ēac næarwe mē ġefēngest þæt mīn heorte ġeswenced wæs! Būton þām, hwæt wōd þīn lufiende gemǣra, þā hērde þone cyning cyssende folc on ætǣlum!"

Then it was Arthur's turn to laugh, to excited and relieved to do anything else but kiss Merlin again, with his love back where he belonged.

SOME TIME LATER:

Arthur yelped as Merlin punched his arm as they were both laying in bed, his lover giving him a somewhat scathing look, the same one he wore when Arthur ordered him to mucked out the stables.

"Hwæt wæs þæt for?"

Merlin huffed at him indignantly, but his eyes held the barest hint of mirth in them.

"Þæt wæs for þrowing mīn ġeweorċiend in þā ġeolu! Hīe wǣron ġeþēodende tō ālȳsene mē, and þæt is hū þū þancast hīe? Nā mā cossas for þē oþ þū lǣte hīe faran!"

Arthur rolled his eyes but complied with his lover's wishes, getting out of bed and calling over a guard and telling him to release the prisoners. Really, how was he supposed to know that the intruders were just Merlin's coworkers? They had looked like kidnappers from Arthur's perspective!

Huffing with amusement, Arthur made his way back over to the bed, softly kissing Merlin as he climbed back in, ready to sleep for the night. Before he closed his eyes though, he called out to Merlin.

"Beheald þū mē þæt þū beōn hēr þonne ic āwacige?"

Merlin smiled gently at Arthur and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"Ic behēte."

TRANSLATIONS:

Gripan híe! Híe syndon fandian to niman Myrddin! = Catch them! They're trying to take Merlin!

Hwæt, Guinevere, far to þæm wæpnedhuse and find hwæt wæpnedu sindon gód in þæm stæde. Leon, far and wec þa oþre cnihtas. Hæbbe hí ceorfan of þæm unrihtwisan fleon. Oðer ealdras, fylgað me! = Guinevere, please go to the armory and find whatever weapons are still in decent condition. Leon, go wake up and gather the other knights. Have them cut off the intruders' escape. The rest of you, follow me!

Hū darrst þū āsceacan hine from mē! Iċ hæbbe bīdode ofer þūsend geara for þisne tīman, and þū ātēowedest tō nīefre hine from mē stelan! Þū scealt āgildan for þis! = How dare you try to take him from me! I have waited over a thousand years for this moment, and you've attempted to steal him from me! You must pay for this!

Nimðað þa ungewelwieras to ðære cyrcan cwellan, wē magon dēmian mid him æfter. Gwaine, nim Myrddin to his geardas and hafa Gaius locian ofer hine. And be mildheort, he sceal hæbbe geferod eft fram Avalon and mæg swilc bēon in pinunge fram his wundum! Gecyða eft to mē mid Gaius's gemetungum þonne hē geendod hæfð. = Take the intruders to the dungeon cells, we can deal with them later. Gwaine, take Merlin to his chambers and have Gaius look over him. And be gentle, he must have just come back from Avalon and could still be in pain from his wounds! Report back to me with Gaius's findings when he's done.

Oh Myrddin, hwǣr eart þū bēon = Oh Merlin, where have you been?

Ēat, Merlin, and þæt is ān bebod! Þū eart ǣac þinra þonne ic þē lǣstan gesēah! Þū scealt nū hungor hæbban, swā þū ne eart fēor þæt þū þæt disc fullfremed hæbbe! = Eat, Merlin, and that's an order! You're even skinnier than the last time I saw you! You must be hungry now, so you're not leaving until I see that you've finished that plate!

Hwæt wæs þæt?! Myrddin, hwæt sægst þu? Ic bidde þe secge me! = What was that?! Merlin, what did you say? Please tell me!

Myrddin, hwæt sægdest þū? Mihtest þū āgēan sprecan for mē, þancie? = Merlin, what did you say? Could you try to speak again for me, please?

Hwæt, Myrddin, gif þu me understandan mæg, þonne set þin hand on min. = Merlin, if you can understand me at all, then put your hand in mine.

Þū ne miht gān ymbe cyssende folc butan gewarnunge swā, þū dolop heafod! Þū ēac næarwe mē ġefēngest þæt mīn heorte ġeswenced wæs! Būton þām, hwæt wōd þīn lufiende gemǣra, þā hērde þone cyning cyssende folc on ætǣlum! = You can't just go around kissing people without warning like that, you dollop head! You almost gave me a heart attack! Besides, what would your loving consort think, hearing about the king kissing people at random!

Hwæt wæs þæt for? = What was that for?

Þæt wæs for þrowing mīn ġeweorċiend in þā ġeolu! Hīe wǣron ġeþēodende tō ālȳsene mē, and þæt is hū þū þancast hīe? Nā mā cossas for þē oþ þū lǣte hīe faran! = That was for throwing my coworkers in the dungeons! They were trying to save me, and that's how you thank them? No more kisses for you until you let them go!

Beheald þū mē þæt þū beōn hēr þonne ic āwacige? = Promise me that you'll be here when I wake up?

Ic behēte. = I promise.

And that's a wrap! Man, this thing quickly spiraled out of control. What was supposed to be a short and sweet prompt evolved into this beast of a post. Well, I hoped you liked this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

Also, here's everyone who asked for this continuation (and if I forgot to tag someone, I am so sorry, there were a lot of you who asked for a part 2 and I couldn't really keep track of them all 😭): @valiantkittenwitch @gaiussleechtank @laundryandtaxesworld @ath99 @dont-know-how-this-works @young-skam @authenticblob @regulusrules @linotheghost @olidun @championrevali @lil-gremlin-things @hopeaha @mitoconniedria @candlemouse @starlightdreams-blog @todolist-nothing07 @princess-of-morkva @mortalmab @livewondrousss @araevenn @shesthewindandsea @that-ghost-bitch @myself-being @queencutl @hakka84 @asagijing @izzymizzyofficial @thedollopheadofcamelot @lostinthe--stars @larluce ( <- also I'm a big fan of your au's so thank you so much!!) @allisnotfairinloveandbooks @arthursbubblebutt @rain-dragons @ofqueensandwitches @ramadiiiisme @righteous-scamp @cwilbah @merthurogies @merlinrepost @once-upon-the-earth @fluffy-loves-chocolate @lightoftheemeraldstar @tansruduri @avixenk

Also, a shoutout to @theanishimori, who inspired the "true love's kiss" element of the ending!

I'll see you all again soon with a new au idea!

[slocumjoe]

companions react to sole going missing

I've gotten quite a few asks about various circumstances leading to sole going missing, and I've really been trying to figure out how to write this beyond "they panic" 12 times, so...this is a lot more "how do they find sole" than anything else 🤸‍♂️

Cait; Cait is so pessimistic and naturally anxious, she's doesn't realize she's right, when she makes a barb about Sole getting eaten, or getting kidnapped, or maybe tripping and drowning in a puddle. Cait isn't surprised when it starts looking like that something really is up, but fuck if she doesn't freak out. Gets her weapons, gets her armor, and is out the door with no real plan, no direction, no goal. Has to be grabbed before she can set out and just get herself in trouble too. Cait isn't going to be any use in finding Sole, but if Sole's being held by people...that's when you play this particular card.

Codsworth; He's used to Sole being gone for long stretches of time with no word. He's not just the last to panic, he's the last to panic because he's the last person to realize oh shit, this is different. Once that can opens...have you ever seen a Mr. Handy freak out? Those saws and flamethrowers are dangerous to be around. Codsworth has some combat potential, yes, but he isn't meant for that, not at all. He's joining the search party, obviously, but he's not much help if there isn't people to set on fire.

Curie; She's the more optimistic sort, so one of the last to worry. Curie gets nervous when everyone else is nervous, even the most pragmatic of them. If Nick or Piper think something is wrong, something is wrong. Curie, having been a Ms. Nanny, had a database of the geography and cityscapes of Massachusetts, for scientific purposes. That database is now a memory, and now a little foggy, but Curie's a walking GPS, otherwise. For this reason, ends up going with Nick, helping him get around Boston, Cambridge, wherever. If Dogmeat is for tracking a scent, Curie is for directions.

Danse; Sole is not allowed to leave without an estimated return date. You cannot leave Danse's sight without telling him it'll take me this many days to get there, and this many to get back. So, once Sole is not back by the return date, Danse is in the power armor and going after their corpse, assuming them dead. Mostly to mentally prepare himself for them actually being dead. Unlike Cait, Danse goes on his own with an itinerary. He checks possible campsites, checks in with anyone he finds on the road...the line from A, to B, to C, whereever Sole went, Danse traces where they should or could have been. He ends up running into the others this way, and from there, it's just a matter of time. Once they're back...oh man. The earful. The scolding. The lecture. It's a force of nature, how upset this man is. If Sole vanished themselves? You could use the anger to power the Prydwen.

Deacon; keeps a tab on Sole at all times through the Railroad, so once a letter comes in, hey, lost track of them, will update once I find them again, and that next letter comes as still no sign, Deacon is off. Doesn't say anything to the others, just vanishes as he does usually. Sole is either pulling a him, or someone's got their mitts on them. Both are bad. So Deacon checks in at HQ. No one's seen them. They were last seen here. This was the last person they talked to. Nothing else? Fine. He checks the safehouses. He checks anywhere Sole has mentioned as a camp or hideaway. Deacon, here, his use comes in the form of elimination of information. They would have done this if X was true, they would have gone here if Y happened. He narrows it down until the trail leads right to Sole.

Gage; You get old enough, in his work, you start to just know when someone's gotten into some shit. One of the first ones to wake up one day and go "Keep your gun close, feel like we're gonna have to set off here soon." So, first to intuit that something is up, but not the first to freak out. There's a difference. Gage doesn't worry right away, he worries when it's getting clearer that something is up. Even then, he doesn't panic. Sole was an important person—any raider gang that nabbed them, one of their mooks almost certainly went bragging. Raiders always brag about a good score. Just needs to hit up one or two unsavory bars, see who's drafting a ransom with their buddies over beer. Despite his protests, Piper and MacCready tag along with him. This turns into Uncle Gage's No Good, Awful, Very Bad Investigative Babysitting Adventure and he hates every minute of it.

Hancock; second to last to realize what's up. Hancock himself is prone to wandering off, chasing a flight of fancy, just getting bored and doing other shit. So, he assumes Sole is doing the same. Maybe something else came up, maybe they're just taking it easy. It's Sole. They're smart and a badass, they're fine. He'll join up with the others, ask around with his people in Goodneighbor once the others start worrying, in hopes of calming their nerves. Take a breather, man, lemme ask Ham if they ever stopped by. Hey, Ham, did Sole ever...wait...those guys? And Sole? ...Ah, shit. If anyone can get the most intimate info on why or how Sole is missing, it's Hancock. And the why and how is a good way to learn the where.

MacCready; An anxious person, MacCready starts worrying when the day they should have come back passes, and then another passes, and then another. He checks with travelers coming from wherever, and if there was no weather or any other obstacle, MacCready knows right then, Sole's in a bad situation. He's shaky and a little pale the whole time, but he sticks with Piper, backs her up as she pries info out of anyone who's got it. Every day Sole is missing, kicks himself for not going, or not demanding Sole take him, if told to stay behind. Once they team up with Gage (ei, follow him around like ducklings, since he knows more places to look), starts questioning the sanity of Sole and their whole posse a lot more than he used to. Wonders if his life now counts as a horrific comedy once the investigation leads them to a drag race for the undead.

Nick; Being the detective who's been around this particular block a few times...he's be the one to realize when, truly, Sole was missing, rather than unaccounted for. There are certain tells and traits of a case that will hint if someone is okay, just doing their own thing, or if they're in trouble. Once Sole starts looking like the latter, Nick wastes no time going on the hunt. First things first, where were they headed, what were they planning on doing? Then it's off to witnesses. Where were they last seen? Sole's tough, and Sole is far more valuable as a hostage than some raider gang's dinner. It's likely they're alive, but the longer you go, the lower that chance gets. If anyone finds them, it'll have been in large part due to Nick's methodical work.

Piper; If Sole vanished intentionally, Piper picked up on their sneakiness before they left. If that's the case, it's not long at all before Piper ferrets out their location, their plan, because she's started unraveling it all before they were even out the door. If Sole's disappearance wasn't self-inflicted...the indomitable Piper Wright's gonna sweat on this one. Where Nick had the idea of investigating Sole, Piper goes after culprits, people who may have wanted them dead or alive. She gets into the bowels of the Commonwealth, and even if she has MacCready to help her shoot her way out, she's glad to run into Gage at some point. He's a bastard, but you share a goal with that cyclops, and he's a very useful ally. Even if he bitches every time Piper asks too prodding a question and starts a bar fight. C'mon, she was just curious about their make-up...

Preston; is the one who's Freaking The Fuck Out. That's his GENERAL, you know what happened the last time his general died? EVERYONE DIED. EVERYONE. Preston gets on the radio and calls all hands on deck, tear the Commonwealth apart if you have to. This period of time becomes a thing of legend for raiders everywhere, because one day, that bumfuck militia raided them, camps and hideouts all over swarmed and seiged by Minutemen looking for their boss. Preston's running around the Commonwealth with a team of Minutemen soldiers, using numbers and some careful brute force instead of precision investigation. To Preston, they don't have time to methodically pick apart the story, they need Sole back now. Once Sole is found, Preston wrestles with the fact that he...may have gone a little overkill...

X6-88; If the Institute is still standing, checks in with the Commonwealth surveillance officers, and reports that data to Nick. He doesn't want to work with Nick, but he is a detective. And Sole is his Director. X6 isn't risking anything, here. If the Institute is kaput, X6-88 goes off on his own, uses his courser skills to hunt down Sole himself. When the others find Sole, he also finds them, just, like, through a different door. They have one way of finding Sole and getting to them, X6 finds another. Danse tracked them via their campsites? X6 tracked them via the movements of startled radstag herds. Nick went after witness testimony? X6 went digging through corpses to find their spent ammunition. Piper and Gage looked for claims of having them hostage? X6 looked for raider gangs who ceased all activity. X6 finds them in such clear, laser-focused way it's both comforting and terrifying. Like...it's great and cool you know that, but oh my God, I'm glad you weren't trying to kill me.

[acerathia]

Grave Robbery || K. Bakugou

Summary:

What's the worst that could happen in a graveyard? Ask again after meeting a seasoned Pro-Hero.

Wordcount: 2.1k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Pro-Hero! Bakugou Katsuki / GN!Reader

Tags/CW:

no actual grave robbery, i promise. meet ugly, banter, pining, aged-up characters

Note:

Happy Halloween!! Inspired by actual people putting recipes on their gravestones <3

You have to admit, you don’t have a legitimate reason to be here, to be walking along the rows of gravestones, dust collecting due to the lack of visitors. But despite having no one to visit, you do have a very specific objective in your mind, one that explains your presence in this cemetery.

And the target of your search doesn’t take long to be found. You perk up upon laying your gaze on the exact sort of inscription you have been looking for and you step closer to decipher the words next to the corresponding numbers. Perfect.

A recipe for a cheesecake.

For a moment you just read the recipe and try to understand its instructions rather than just skim the most important details. After you make sure you’re understanding this properly, you pull out your phone and take a picture of the stone, of course including the name of the person. That way you can honor them properly.

With the recipe secured, you continue your stroll through the row, walking past a couple of lone people visiting their friends and family. On your walk, you almost bump into a blond man as he seems to be almost filling the whole narrow way with his build. But you manage to dodge before any contact happens, and he barely shoots you a glance. So it seems you won’t be causing any problems today.

On the way out you spot a couple more potential gravestones, but as you only take one recipe per visit, out of respect, because you want to take your time to enjoy their respective recipe. So you only end up greeting the dead as you pass, memorizing the space they occupy, keen on visiting on a later date.

With these future meetings, you leave the graveyard, looking forward to trying this newly acquired recipe. Hoping that you’re able to manage the sweet treat like it’s supposed to be, as close to the original as possible with only the dead guiding you.

So it took you a couple of weeks to return, because you needed the time to perfect the cheesecake, and of course to avoid any suspicion, even if you’re technically not doing anything illegal. But these weeks of absence result in your memory of the placements of the potential graves being a blur.

With no other solution to your memory loss, you decide to start walking the first couple of rows down. That is until you encounter the blond once again and you stop in your tracks, considering skipping that row. You don’t mind getting recognized, but you’d like to avoid being potentially kicked out.

But it’s too late to turn back now, as his red gaze has focused on your face, a scowl etching itself into his features. He looks more annoyed than angry, so maybe you could avoid confrontation. Even if he does seem familiar for some reason, but honestly you avoid looking at him directly, trying to make him think you’re not worth the trouble, and because he looks like he’s about to reprimand you for something. For what exactly, you don’t know.

Your only choice in this situation is to just keep walking, so you do, barely able to dodge his overtowering figure once again. Without looking back, you just keep walking until you’re at the end of the row to switch to the next one.

Instead of actually walking into the next one, you skip a couple to get some distance between you two. And luck is on your side as you discover a recipe in that exact row. Repeating the actions of last time, you take a picture with a small smile on your face while uttering a thank you, memorizing their name and putting it next to the others.

When you’re done with collecting the recipe, you stay a couple more minutes at the grave, honestly just talking a bit about your day, trying to entertain the ones long gone, the lonely ones. It helps staying unavoided of course, because you know for sure that you don’t plan on bumping into him again.

But like most things you want or plan out, it doesn’t work out. The next time you visit the graveyard, your hope to not see him gets crushed brutally the moment you spot his tall, broad figure. And it seems like he also spotted you, like a weird person watching the entrance of the place. With him seeing you, you can’t just leave, turn around and walk away.

So, with a sigh, you don’t resist your bleak fate and step into the open space to walk down the narrow path in the middle. At random you decide to enter a row, one farther away from him than it was the last time. And maybe this is exactly your mistake, because even if you hoped he wouldn’t notice you being in a different row, you should know that nothing works out for you.

Once again you’re walking down a row, looking for your personal treasure in this space when you bump into something. Or someone. It seems like you haven’t paid any attention to your way, so focused on the engraved stones and their messages.

The apology on your tongue dies immediately when you make eye contact with the person in front of you, the one you’ve been dreading, trying so hard to avoid. Red eyes flame into yours, almost paralyzing every thought in your brain, and when the sun hits his face, letting his hair glow golden under the sun, his eyes sparkle like small explosions, you can’t help but think that he might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever met.

That is until a snarl appears on his lips, eyebrows pointing downward.

“What the fuck are you doing, creep?” he asks with a deep voice, almost a growl vibrating deep in your bones.

You gasp and put your hand dramatically against your chest. How dare he accuse you of being a creep!

You want to retort something, but it hits you like an explosion. You finally remember why he seems so familiar to you, you know him, hell, the whole country knows him.

Pro-Hero Dynamight.

And with this realization, you know that you’re fucked. He noticed you lurking around and no matter what you do or say, you won’t be able to get out of it that easily. Doesn’t mean you won’t at least try.

“Listen, Sir, this is a graveyard. I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” you deflect, softening your voice to a melancholic tone, all while keeping your answer open. Let him interpret whatever he wants, maybe you can get out of this.

He clicks his tongue, annoyance clear in his impatience. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re not even in the same row as the last time you’ve been here. Fucking creepy.”

Fuck. Well, there goes your cover. So nobody can blame you when your lips pull up in something similar to a snarl. “Aren’t you the creep? Memorizing the places I go to? Weird, not gonna lie. And maybe, just maybe, asshole, not everyone has the perfect memory or whatever.”

This made him angry, his face contorts in a snarl of his own. Your eyes glance around and you spot the way he flexes his hands, probably trying to restrain himself from grabbing you by the collar due to your sheer audacity. And you do your best to ignore the way his muscles move underneath his shirt, radiating his sheer might in a single, simple movement.

He takes a deep breath and his snarl slightly slips off as he’s probably thinking happy thoughts, or whatever they taught him in therapy.

"Listen you little shit. I've seen you at least three times in a row, just doing fuck knows what. And considering the fucking amount you've been here and how regular you must have visited this place, there’s no fucking way you're lost," he grits between his teeth, showcasing his logical thinking, and you can’t help but think how sexy his brain is.

"So you better tell me the truth, or imma get you on watch or some stupid shit."

For a moment you both just stare at each other. You don't know who's trying to break who with this intense battle of eye contact, but you do notice how pretty his eyes are, all evening sun, setting behind these gold lashes. It makes you want to sink deeper into them, and you honestly can't risk that right now, so you back away, turn your face away.

You hold up your hands in surrender. "Okay, okay! I'm going to tell you the shit I'm up to. But you gotta follow me first," you surrender with a cock of your head.

The only acknowledgement you're getting is a grunt and a single nod. So with that you continue walking down the row, almost feeling his breath down your neck.

And for a moment you understand what made Mary Shelley act that way in a graveyard…

You shake your head to get rid of the thought of his arms caging you in, of him leaning in, his gaze seeing the depth of your soul with its edge.

With a breath you try to focus on the inscriptions you walk by, and it takes you a couple to finally stop in front of one that fits your bill. You nod your head towards it.

"Look, see what's on that stone? Beside the usual? A recipe. It's either a specialty of that person, or a family recipe. Either way, I come looking for them…" you explain, eyes locked on the gravestone in front of you, reading the name of that person.

"Why the fuck would you do that? Aren't there like a fuck ton of recipes online?" he asks with a grumble, even if his suspicion only seems to ebb away slowly.

You humm, agreeing with him. "That’s true. But why would these people put so much effort into making sure these recipes are put onto their gravestones? I'd like to think they wanted to share one last thing with the world, even if they're gone," you answer slowly, putting your thoughts into coherent words ", so maybe I'm honoring their memory like that, even if I don't know them…"

For a moment you both are silent, and you turn around, trying to see if your explanation has cleared something up. Only to see him look at the gravestone, face calm, jaw slack, eyes filled with some sort of unexplainable melancholy. And you wish you could always see him like this, soft, vulnerable.

But he seems to feel your stare on him, as his gaze flits to you, all softness put back behind a grinding jaw, crossed arms.

"Tch, I guess. But I don't fucking think that you're able to honor them properly. You don't seem like you can even hold a fucking fruit knife right," he grunts, his eyes wandering all over your face.

And you grin slightly, even if your face feels a bit too hot under his scorching eyes. "Well, practice makes perfect?"

He rolls his eyes. "Someone gotta show you how this stuff is properly done."

"Oh! You want to come over? Damn, take me out on a date fi- ah!" you stumble slightly as he softly bumps his shoulder into yours.

"Don't talk shit, weirdo… I can rent a kitchen, or whatever."

You immediately shake your head. "No! I mean, it's fine. You can come over, I guess… Whatever… Uhm, do you mind me giving you my number? Only to make the plans, of course, nothing else!"

He snorts and hands you his phone, and you type your number into the new contact, putting your name in, in hope to avoid getting one of the nicknames he’s infamous for. You hand it back, but he immediately changes the name and no matter how far you crane your neck, you cannot see what he did, even if he probably changed your name to something stupid.

So you have no choice but to give up, to resign yourself to living forever with the name he just gave you. You just hope it’s something normal, not like ‘Graveyard Robber’ or anything similar.

Well, a small sacrifice considering Bakugou, the pro-hero has your number. And that you both are planning a cooking date, well date to you, it's probably just some normal, free day for him. But that doesn't mean…

No, you have to stop giving yourself hope. And yet you can't help but grin to yourself the moment he sends you a message, such a dry text you almost choke trying to converse with him over text. Still, talking with him fills you with some sense of anticipation and excitement, happiness. You're absolutely looking forward to spending some time with him, cooking one of your discoveries. And you conjure the names of these people, and you thank them with a spark in your heart, hoping they catch your gratitude.

[onceinawhilemoon]

Finished the Mycroft’s Pride DLC and you bet I have some thoughts to share. Long read ahead and Spoilers if you haven't 100%-ed the DLC!

Interesting how you can look at the DLC as Mycroft's way of distracting Sherlock from uncovering the past, like if he can't talk him out of it, he might as well distract him as much as he can and hope for a miracle, similar to how Jon distracts him with all the childhood memories and the treasure hunts and challenges. The psychological implications/interpretations of that last one are vast: Sherry is deep down dreading the truth enough that he wants to stall as much as possible, or maybe he realized he missed Cordona so much and wants to spend as much time as possible here before leaving for good, or maybe it's a coming-of-age thing where he sees it as a chance to revisit and relive his best childhood memories and interests before he grows old and out of them, or all the above.

Either way, I really appreciate FW making Mycroft more prominent in Sherlock’s life and depicting him as a parental figure who clearly takes so much pride in having raised him and, in Mycroft's words, shaped him into the fine and productive young man that he is today. Despite all the miscommunication and the bickering and arguing, the only thing that remains solid and unwavering in their turbulent relationship is that Sherlock is Mycroft's pride and joy. (omg look i said the thing)

I lose it every time Sherlock goes into tsundere mode and makes a show out of how much he does NOT want to accept the request.. before he accepts it. He goes “let me guess.. it's urgent and important and lives are at stake and Mycroft’s too busy with his tea parties and keeping the Crown's jewels to do it himself? Alright, give it here. I'll handle it. I'm far better equipped anyway.” like stop you’re killing me with those lmao especially since I'm sure this is a nod to the canon ACD universe where Mycroft is portrayed as lazy and can't be bothered to make his own bed whereas this Mycroft is too diligent for his own good; running multiple operations at the same time and losing agents left and right and probably losing his mind with stress and not to mention the constant worrying over where Sherlock is and what he's doing and what sort of trouble he's got himself into and whether it's serious enough to require intervention. I mean, the man has long earned the right to ask for some help lmao.

Funny thing is, I finished the Muse From Abroad case and unlocked the cabinet of curiosities just before finishing the DLC, so they just had a tense argument and Mycroft stormed off and then sent Sherlock a letter right away asking him to drop everything and pursue one more thing for him, even said it like "consider it a holiday!" and Sherlock was like sheeeeeesh Mycroft and his errands and then, as usual, he went and did the thing anyway.

Like no matter how tsundere he wants to get about it, this man still can't find it in himself to refuse his brother’s requests (for the most part) and I think that's freaking adorable, like don't tell me he doesn't secretly revel in his older brother's "Well done" and “Great work” just like when Mother used to praise him for figuring shit out and Jon said it’d be the happiest Sherlock’s ever been. This boy is still at an age where he craves and cherishes praise. After all, he made up an entire person to be his cheerleader (among other things) and to constantly tell him how great he’s doing and how much he’s proud of him.

I can also see Sherlock begrudgingly agreeing to take Mycroft's requests as him never wanting to miss on a chance to outperform his older brother, and probably even keeps a record to guilt-trip Mycroft into returning him favours, like "remember that one time you sent me to all sorts of ungodly places just to fetch a book? How about when I almost died busting a gang operation for you? See how much you owe me? now give me all the dirt you can on this dude." (the "almost died" is dramatic exaggeration. It was me who almost died fighting the Eels. Sherry on the other hand is a badass I'm sure it was a piece of cake for him lol) I love this headcanon also because him having a little competitive sibling rivalry thing going on with Mycroft is even more adorable, no matter how one-sided it is because I doubt Mycroft cares as long as Sherlock gets the job done and learns a few more tricks of the trade.

And it makes me sad to think this has all probably changed now that their relationship is in a blender dangerously set to start blending on the highest speed...

Anyway, here's the real reason why I made this post:

... to tell you how loud I screamed

(Ngl I was hoping for like a bonus Mycroft cameo at the end or something but THIS made me giddy like a schoolgirl)

But back to serious talk..

Jon said something in the Missing Shopkeeper case when they found the body along the lines of “the ugly reality of being Mycroft's agent,” and I agree. These requests serve to give Sherlock a glimpse into the nasty reality of Mycroft's day-to-day job; he's getting to learn just how grim and dangerous it actually is—that it's not all cushy and royal tea parties and getting to rub shoulders with the rich and powerful as Sherlock would like to think, if only just to poke fun at his older brother's career choices.

I also love how even Mycroft's agents and acquaintances have depth and intrigue and backstories.

Like Ursula Oni, the well-respected chief archivist in City Hall. She's so good at her "other job" that she managed to hide a whole other- other job as a grave robber for a considerable time, so much so that even Mycroft himself (probably) was unaware of her nightly exploits. (For real though, discovering her body genuinely saddned me. She seemed nice enough, and I kept interacting with her every time I was in City Hall hoping she'd give me a quest. Alas..)

There's also Yeasmin, the Cordona Chronicle editor-in-chief, who's not only a hardcore Holmes stan and just here for the tea, but turns out to be the wife of the murdered agent/shopkeeper. And the way she reacts when Sherlock tells her the truth by leaving Mycroft's service is interesting; like there are layers here: there's distrust and resentment toward her boss for hiding the truth from her, indicating that there's limit to Mycroft's elusive and covert methods that his agents won't tolerate, and there's some light shed on how messy things turn out when interpersonal matters become entangled with the professional.

What boggles me is that Mycroft specifically gave the letter about the husband going missing to Yeasmin of all people to deliver it to Sherlock, with strict orders not to read it, and, with total faith in her boss, she complied without asking any questions.

I'm starting to actually consider if this case was a test to see what Sherlock would do and how he'd handle the situation. Will he tell Yeasmin about her husband's death? or keep it from her knowing that Mycroft will never tell her. I mean it's all possible. I mentioned in an earlier ramble how I believe Mycroft carefully researches and chooses the "errands" he sends his brother on beforehand to ensure his safety. Anything could be a carefully planned test.

Quick two cents on In for a Penny:

I wonder why Mycroft has a particular dislike for the Manghir? I assume since it was gifted to him by the governer, it's having to do with how corrupt Sinclair is.

Maybe the governer offered it to him as some sort of lowkey bribe to keep some dirt on him in the ground aka "invaluable help" and Mycroft begrudgingly accepted it because he knew his little brother would be ecstatic to have it among his collection? (or maybe it's just the fact the manghir has a freaking cthulhu head engraved on it and Mycroft’s prophetic big brother senses were itching…)

But yeah, again, Mycroft making time in his overpacked schedule to put together the coin quest for his little brother is the sweetest thing, like I can totally see that being his love language. He knew exactly what kind of things interested Sherlock and what would keep him entertaind (and educated, Mycroft not wasting a single opportunity to subtly train his little brother in espionage is kind of hilarious) I appreciate the mentor-protégé dynamic that FW set for them in this adaptation.

It's a shame that Sherlock never got to finish the coin quest in time before shit hit the storm and they had to leave Cordona for good, thus he never got to have that meeting with Mycroft and report his findings and share what he'd learned, something that Mycroft was looking forward to with great anticipation as he expressed in his quest letter… it would have been a precious bonding moment for them and it's a real shame that they never got to have it...

Anyway, back to the outfits. Look at Jon???

Look at him!!!

More screenshots because I couldn't help myself:

(don't pay attention to Jon's feet clipping through the carpet lmao)

He looks so embarrassed here and I totally get it. Sherry you're so brave I could never wear my sibling’s clothes in good faith. And you look stunning btw.

I wonder if this game also changes your outfit back to default in serious scenes because I would do ANYTHING to see Sherlock confront Mycroft like this. I'm sure the exchange won't suddenly spike to 90 degrees awkward; your brother catches you screwing around in Cordona dressed as him… can't begin to imagine the level of embarrassment.

Anyway, time to run around town and fuck shit up officially. 🕴🕴🕴🕴🕴

[aeroblossom]

more on albedo and rhinedottir

what is transmutation, if not rebirth?

okay. i think i figured out the motive behind rhinedottir's creations, among other things.

bear with me and my poor explanation, i'm also really bad at linking sources lmao. do correct me if i've gotten any details wrong. much of this was possible thanks to conversations with a friend of mine!

rhinedottir's reason for creating durin, elynas, albedo and everything else was to find the meaning of life itself.

i'm gonna try and make it as simple as possible to get, i hope.

so, back in search in the algae sea, during the third orthant - cater gives us a riddle, to which the answer is 'love'. some discussion upon alchemy and the orthants with my friend later, we decided to match the stages of alchemy (in rene's given order) to the order of orthants we travelled. that makes citrinitas corresponding to love. the third orthant is also the one of the soul. love and soul.

so here's an idea i've had for a long time. one motive for rhinedottir's actions may be that she was trying to recreate someone dear to her through albedo. someone she loved - be it a family member, lover, anything. with my friend, i discussed how rene quotes aleister crowley's poem regarding the womb of pan, which is essentially a void where all souls originate and/or return to in the time of rebirth. durin and elynas both speak about how they existed in some empty darkness before rhinedottir called them forth - but not albedo.

albedo's earliest memories, he says, are of traveling with rhinedottir. so.

'primordial human project'. rene's search led him to primordial humans. he tried to become one and failed. it involved dissolving himself to be reborn.

'primordial human project' - consider, albedo is not an original creation, but a reborn being.

the rebirth of someone dear to rhinedottir whom she tried to make a primordial human.

why? because albedo is her last ditch effort at saving the world - just like rene. like how citrinitas corresponds to the age of glory for empires and their subsequent collapse with the coming of the stage of rubedo, rhinedottir - khaenriah as a whole - knew its end was destined, and they must have known this. she asks albedo to reach the far side of philosophy and create a better future for them all.

think about it. societal collapse is imminent, your country is crumbling, the end of the world is near and everything feels so utterly doomed. and you know it. you know you're doomed. she must have known of the world formula, must have known rubedo must follow citrinitas.

in the hexenzirkel trailer, she sounds just somewhat reluctant when it comes to being called a mother. you know what this reminds me of, who she reminds me of? ruan mei. ruan mei, upon learning of the infinitely transient nature of life, sinks into emptiness. she can't show love to the creations she's made with her own hands. she knows so well how short, and thus meaningless their lives are. she fears forming attachment - she dissects the scientific meaning of attachment in her character trailer instead of seeing it as something people just do.

rhinedottir must thus have attempted to flip the last two stages of alchemy to prevent their fate, yeah?

if everything is truly meant to end, if it's all destined to fall from rise, what is really the point?

most hoyoverse games are about fighting this sort of nihilistic thinking. the character of otto apocalypse makes it abundantly clear. otto's character takes great inspiration from friedrich nietzsche, whom many people misunderstand for a nihilist. however, nietzsche's philosophies were actually staunchly against nihilism.

rene tried to save the world because he wanted to believe it has meaning. it troubled him that the rise and the fall are void of purpose, he wanted to save it because he believed there was a point in its existence.

rhinedottir is no different. there is no force greater than love. and guess what?

in wagner's play 'the ring' - the dwarf alberich steals the rhinegold from the rhinemaidens. the rhinemaidens tell him there's nothing greater than love in the world. and what does alberich do?

he denounces - wouldn't you know - love.

like rene, rhinedottir became the scapegoat for the cataclysm for her deeds.

i've expressed previously that the primordial human rhinedottir was trying to create through albedo may possibly be the third descender. one who descends.

so, then,

that may be what dainsleif means when he says "we will defy this world with a power from beyond", no?

[side theory :: i once came across the idea of the twins being meteors. the rifthounds induce corrosion on you, making you bleed. gold corrodes. and gold on the earth is also theorized to be extraterrestrial, ie, it came from meteor impact. so then, what if the twins are the source of azosite, or any other such materials derived from gold, that khaenriah now prizes?]

so, tldr : rhinedottir, amidst a world rapidly approaching its doom having learned of the world formula, seeks to prove it wrong, to prevent it, undo it - she tries to fight back against collapse by finding meaning itself. there is nothing more transient than life itself, and thus she sought to prove that there is meaning in something as short lived as that. i'm shaky on albedo being a life reborn, but i do believe it's not impossible. he could have been somewhat dear to her that she tried to make attain the status of primordial human - descender, even - so as to undo the laws of fate.

(some screenshots of the discussion, NOT in chronological order)

[persona5butitsincorrect]

Got my Haru headcanons, cause let's be real they did her dirty with the lack of screentime

Oooh I absolutely adore Haru so of course

(w a lil okujima 🥰)

Her mother was French. Though she never knew her that's probably what subconsciously drew her to the language (she's fluent) and interest in it's culture. As well as literature. This is something her and Ren surprisingly bonded over, often discussing it over coffee.

^^^(Makoto has occasionly joined them on these outings and found herself stumped on the topic for once. The one time they convinced Ryuji to come he near fell asleep, though surprisingly seemed to take some of it in.)

She had a very brief crush on Ren when she first met him. Though honestly, looking back she thinks it was more the idea of him. At the time she felt this need for some sort of saviour white knight figure and he seemed to fit the bill. He turned her down pretty quickly because his interest lied elsewhere. And she soon figured out hers did as well, the two wound up confiding in eachother about it.

Despite her father having had her tutored in pretty much every subject, the one thing she never quite seemed to master was an instrument.

After her father's passing, she had real trouble returning to that big house all alone. Not the mention the way it already made her feel, boiling up memories of his last few years she'd much rather forget. Knowing that, Makoto had offered to let her crash at hers. Which she did one night, then two, until it came to the point she essentially never left. With that said, it took Sae a good two months to realise there was a third person living in their apartment and another few months to actually find the time to actually take the time to speak to her.

It took her twice as long to realise the two of them had started dating. That had happened around the beginning of the Phantom Theives infiltration of Sae's palace. Noir had constantly been flirting with Queen back and forth whenever they were in mementos. It took Makoto a concerning amount of time to realize Haru wasn't just messing around with her.

It seemed all the Phantom Theives were all being truer versions of themselves while I the meta verse, but for Haru it was all the more extreme having been forced to suppress everything to spare her father's public image. She hadn't realised how embedded into her subconscious it was. It was only really with Makoto she'd managed to feel comfortable expressing herself that way all the time, and over time she became more comfortable with the others too.

Feeling bad for essentially lodging in Sae and Makoto's house Haru tried to contribute to cleaning and cooking. Only she, of course, had never done either a single time in her life and somehow was prolifically bad at both. Causing more mess than she aimed to clean and creating food that might have actually been radioactive.

Makoto offered to teach Haru how to cook a few basic meals. At first these often resulted in some sort of fire or terrible mishap. But slowly and surely her food became somewhat edible.

She became a little too confident too quickly and decided to make all their friends the most insanely spicy curry known to man on a night in at leblanc (albeit, her own taste buds seem to be immune to spice, so that may be the only place the error lies). Makoto gave everyone a heads up to "please just be nice", and so they had prepared to hold in any I'll feeling. But it was just to much for Ryuji and Ann to handle, both of them throwing up into the nearist container (being a plant pot and a half full bag of coffee) and screaming about it for a solid 10 minutes.

(both of them felt immensely guilty afterwards)

On the topic of Ryuji, the two of them surprisingly became incredibly good friends. It started because Haru had wanted to start training in the gym to build some more strength up and feel more secure after everything. Ryuji had offered to go with her, honestly missing having a gym buddy since Ren moved back to Tokyo. There schedules happened to line up pretty well so it round up becoming and regular thing. Sometimes they head down Ogikubo for some ramen (which is usually Harus treat).

She often gets frustrated just hearing about Yusuke's living situation and just shows up with bags of groceries to make sure he's eating right. Thing is he's not exactly a pro cook either and has been seen eating whole bell peppers and calling it a meal.

It was with Yusuke and Ann on a random shopping trip they round up bumping into Sugimura. It was only for a moment, he hadn't ever tried to speak to her. But just seeing him knocked her out of spirits for the whole day.

Things like that happened quite a bit, something would cross her mind. About him or her father, or the dozens of other investor friends who'd make a crude or sleezy comment about her he'd just let slide by. The others had learned to clock it from the way she'd get all quiet and seem to leave the room mentally. Thing was, most of them didn't really know what to do to help her. Other than Yusuke of all people, partly because he had similar moments himself. The two discuss it once and a while.

Despite everything, she still has an incredibly hard time expressing herself whenever somethings wrong. So much so she often doesn't and winds up bottling everything up or keeping important things to herself. She doesn't even realise she's doing it until someone calls her out on it, usually Makoto. At first she doesn't quite get Why Haru is doing it and winds up getting upset, which only serves to make everything worse. It takes a pretty big argument for Makoto to realise this is partly stemming from the trust issues Haru has and a fear of abandonment that isn't at all surprising. They managed to work through it though it's inevitably still hard for Haru to feel safe making herself vulnerable like that. But Makoto is constantly reminding her she's not going anywhere.

She's getting mentoring from Sojiro on how to run a cafe. She works in Leblanc on her days off college. Futaba usually comes around to pay her company when she is, which annoys Sojiro as she's "Distracting his staff" from the two customers they get every 3 hours.

Sae also pops in there most nights after work and offers to give her a ride home. The two of them get along quite well. One of these late night drives home, Sae hadn't had a chance to eat due to being busy with work all day and her stomach was growling embarrassingly loud. Whilst she apologised Haru simply suggested they stop by a Big Bang Burger drive through. They eat Burgers in the car but forgot to get one for Makoto, so tried to hide it when they got home. Which they failed at immensely, which Makoto sulked about just long enough for Haru to make a phone call for someone to deliver them one of the ridiculous big bang challenge burgers. Only for her to suddenly turn around and say she didn't actually want a burger and was just sulking for sulkings sake. It got Haru really vexed, which was probably part of the goal. As admittedly Makoto found it cute when her girlfriend got in a tissy about something stupid.

At some point Haru had gotten to calling Makoto and Sae's house "home". Even though she had her own home only a couple miles away she seemed to not only enter when she needed something from her room or needed somewhere to discuss important matters about her father's company. Though she'd chosen to take a backseat every now and then there was a matter she'd need to approve on.

When she did stay at home she usually took one of the dozen shirts of Makoto's she'd claimed to sleep in.

At one point before Ren left they all had a big sleepover in the house. Having everyone else there made it feel warm again. Since then she's felt a lot more comfortable being there for longer periods when she needs to be.

The house has a home cinema they of course chose to use. But they made the mistake of letting Haru pick the film, every single one of them scarred for life by the gore fest she put on. Other than Yusuke, who was just offended by the bad composition of the cinematography.

The home cinema is of course fully stocked up with the most gruesome horror flicks ever put to film, as well as her father's old Sci fi collection she happily donated to Futaba, who'd geeked out over it immensely.

Futaba had gotten Haru into video games as well. Something she hadn't had the chance to indulge in before. Theyre usually talking on headset together wile playing some first person shooter all night while Makoto's still studying. Haru gets just a little too into it sometimes (it brings out her sadistic side) and starts cussing out and screaming at the screen. Which cracks Futaba up every time.

The Phantom Theives gc is always full of voice notes of Haru yelling "Just Die you f**ing f***face" and alike out of context at 2am through the low bass crackly sound of Futabas headset speakers.

A lot of the time her and Ann go out clothes shopping. Though their taste is vastly different. Yusuke tends to tag along to people watch, because Ann told him he can't go and do that by himself without coming off as a creep.

There's a particular set of photos they all took in a booth together Haru has hung on her (Makoto's) wall. In which Yusuke just looks rather bewildered at what's happening until the last shot. It makes her chuckle every time she sees it.

She misses Morgana a lot when he goes with Ren back to his hometown. Mainly because he can't exactly type her a text. Ren winds up saying he'll help him sned her voice messages, which winds up taking up so much of his time he just sacrifices his phone to the cat to sit on call for 2 hours once a week. God knows how he has so much to talk about,, being a cat. It gets a few odd stares off of his parents.

(I may possibly have more of these to add in a later post, so let's call this part 1?)

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hey! First of all, absolutely love your writing and art, it never fails to make me smile when you post.

I don’t know how to type this without sounding awkward, but I had a random platonic yandere/reader idea inspired by your yandere clone family au that I just wanted to get out of my system and figured you might enjoy.

I started thinking about Arla Fett (Jango’s older sister) in this universe. 

In case you aren’t familiar with her character here’s a quick summary: After the murder of her’s and Jango’s parents she was enslaved by the Death Watch and eventually developed an extremely damaging case Stockholm syndrome. She would act as an assassin for the death watch before being arrested. Later on a Jedi general-turned mandolorian by the name of Bardin Jussik would try to help Arla heal from her trauma but after she begged him to help her forget about it entirely, Bardin simply wiped her memory using the force. The two then fell in love and would have settled down (had order 66 not occurred).

So, then I got to thinking: what if these events happened a few years sooner so that Arla and Bardin were already settled down during the war. And how would the yandere clones react to not only having a blood related sister, but a Jedi brother-in-law, and their likely force sensitive teenager aka reader.

Let’s say the war ends and the various clone battalions are rounding up their respective Jedi but the group formerly run by Bardin Jussik wind up having trouble tracking down their long lost general who left abruptly during the war due to his issues with the Jedi council’s leadership and the republic’s approach to the war. 

They get to the point that TBB get called in to help find him.

Even after some time passes, Jussik doesn’t seem to be anywhere and most assume he’s dead as there is literally no trace of him anywhere. TBB eventually refocus their efforts on to other troublesome Jedi (Such as Kanan, Ezra, Vera Sai, and Nazra) who have at least been seen alive and well in the past decade.

Their efforts to track down the Ghost crew lead them back to Lothal since it’s a planet the Ghost returns to regularly. 

The rest of the batch spreads out to search for clues while Hunter brings the Marauder to a refuel station bc the busy marketplace gives him a headache and he just needs a little rest from constantly tracking. 

He gets there and he’s met with reader working the station who’s about three or four years older than Omega. As Hunter asks them to just refuel the ship he can’t help but notice the teen is sort of staring him down.

Expecting some kind of anti-clone sentiment or getting called sub-human he simply asks

“What never seen a clone before?”

Reader looks at him confused and Hunter suddenly remembers that Lothal never had any part in the war and most people on the planet couldn’t care less who he or his brothers were, especially now that the war was over.

Suddenly, almost like they can read his thoughts, reader starts looking embarrassed and apologetic.

“I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean but…yeah I guess I have been pretty rude just staring huh?” Reader holds up a hand in front of Hunter’s face and closes one of their eyes so that they can only see the non-tattooed side of his face. “It’s just- my buir used to show me holos of my ba’vodu and I swear you look just like him. I’m probably just imagining it.”

Hunter is taken aback by the comment and is suddenly very interested in learning more about this barely paid refueling station attendant’s family. He figures the kid’s dad and uncle are deserters like Cut Laquane. Reader’s additions of some mando’a into their sentences only seems to cement his theory.

The two have a friendly conversation and Hunter finds himself amused by reader’s wide-eyed curiosity about the world outside of Lothal as it’s very reminiscent of when he first met Omega. 

Meanwhile reader is just thrilled that this starship captain is willing to answer all of their questions about his adventures across the galaxy ( Hunter leaves out the whole capturing and lovingly imprisoning all of the Jedi of course). 

Reader grew up on a farm with barely any contact with anybody aside from their parents (the other kids on Lothal find reader creepy for some reason) so speaking with Hunter is a breath of fresh air.

Reader rambles on about how boring life on the farm is and how they were lucky their parents even let them get a job in town since they’re so overprotective.

Reader winds up feeling guilty for making Hunter uncomfortable at first due to them staring at him and then info dumping on him. Eventually reader offers to pay for the Marauder’s fuel as an apology for wasting the man’s time.  

Hunter and reader wind up talking for so long that the rest of the batch come looking for their leader, only to find him lightly bickering with a kid about how it’s not necessary for them to pay for his fuel for simply looking at him a little too long.

Hunter suddenly remembers he has a duty and mission to complete and goes into leader mode, discussing with the others on where they should land the ship for the night so they have a place to stay.

Reader casually offers the empty field on their family’s farm since they wouldn’t have to pay for it like the ship docking spots in town. Reader also mentions harvest season just passed and their father has a tendency to cook an excess of food. 

Wrecker is sold on the idea immediately upon the offer of free food and begs his brothers to take up the offer.

Hunter, Tech, Echo, and Crosshair are made suspicious by the generosity and Crosshair is the one to ask what the catch is.

Reader simply made the offer in hopes of learning more about these strange off-worlders and decides to (naively) strike a deal.

“No catches, no fees. All is ask is each of you give me your best stories from your travels across the galaxy. Deal?”

The batch takes them up on their offer and soon find themselves following the kid home. As they travel, the batch all start noticing things. All of them had been around force sensitive children for some time now and had learned about the small habits that  most force sensitives had. Maybe reader answers any questions they have before the batch can even ask them. Almost like they read the batch’s minds. The batch quickly notice that reader’s reflexes are just a little too fast for a normal person. None of them really need the confirmation but Tech discretely uses a scanner to check reader’s medicloroan count and it’s a higher amount than most.

By the time the Marauder is nearing reader’s farm the entire batch knows they’re taking this kindhearted and naive little force sensitive back with them to Kamino. Now they just need to decide if they need to “take care of” reader’s family before they go.

They land and reader runs up to the house where their very confused mother is waiting in the front yard. Every member of the batch is stunned when they get a good look at reader’s mother. The woman quite literally looks exactly like an adult version of Omega. It’s almost frightening.

Reader’s mother doesn’t entirely know how to feel about the strangers (given she got her memories about the clone war wiped it’s likely she doesn’t realize they’re clones. Let alone clones of her brother)

Reader’s mother introduces herself as Arla Jussik-Fett. At the same time, Bardin steps out of the house and upon seeing the clones, freezes. 

Now, Lothal is an isolated planet, far from the republic. (Exactly the reason he chose to live there)

So Bardin had only heard whispers and warped rumors about what the clones had been doing. As far as he knew, Jedi and force sensitives found by clones were never seen again. Of course Bardin is going to assume they came to kill him and his family.

He never stopped carrying his lightsaber out of cautiousness and already has his hand on it out of instinct.

Reader notices their dad standing close-by and waved him over. 

“Buir! You’ll agree with me! Mom doesn’t agree but don’t you think these guys look like ba’vodu Jango?”  

All hell breaks loose after that.

 Clone force 99 is #shook and Bardin runs to stand between his family and the clones.

“Cyar’ika, ad’ika, go inside and lock the door.” He order, activating his lightsaber. 

Reader is VERY scared by the sudden tenseness that’s taken over. Bardin and Arla share a look and Arla quickly takes reader inside.

Bardin and the Bad Batch take a long few minutes to size one another up. After some time Bardin finally speaks.

“We will give you all one chance to turn around and walk away.”

Crosshair pops a toothpick in his mouth and takes a moment to scan the area.

“We?”

“We.” Bardin nods.

Just then the shot of a sniper rifle rings out. The end of the toothpick in Crosshair’s mouth splinters and is left charred as a blaster bolt just grazes the tip of it. The bolt doesn’t hurt a hair on the clone’s head, but is definitely WAY too close for comfort.

The batch quickly trace the origin of the shot to the front-facing window in the second story of the house where Arla is standing with a rifle pointed down at them.

Arla, despite having lived a fairly quiet and domestic life the past few years, is still a dead on shot. She was a very successful assassin for the Death Watch after all. 

Hitting the toothpick was a warning shot. Crosshair would have dropped had it not been.

“My riduur is right.” Arla shouts down from the open window. “He’s not really the one you need to be worried about.” 

Both Bardin and Arla lived difficult lives and as a result were very particular about security and protecting their home. They wanted to make it so their ad’ika could maintain their innocence. Unfortunately this resulted in reader being extremely sheltered and completely banned from learning how to use their force powers.

After a lot of struggle, Bardin and Arla manage to escape with reader by the skin of their teeth. 

So, TBB return to Kamino to share their strange news. 

They bring the name Arla Fett up to the Alpha clones and they’re vaguely aware of the name as Jango had mentioned her fondly once or twice.

The news quietly spreads around Kamino as a rumor. Some clones are absolutely enthralled by the concept of a new addition to the family. Others are cautious upon finding out Arla was once part of the Death Watch and are against the idea of bringing someone like her near their Jedi.

Some shinnies make the joke that the Fett genetics must give them a type since Arla herself married a Jedi just like so many of her brother’s clones. 

A few of the clones wonder if Arla shares their yandere tendencies. Some clones are already referring to her as Ori’vod Arla and joking about how they wonder if Bardin Jussik is good enough for their big sis. And then some clones just don’t care.

Meanwhile the squad once run by Bardin Jussik is ecstatic to find out their precious general was alive after all. WITH A WIFE NO LESS! Suffice to say they are stoked.

The news about Bardin and Arla’s force sensitive kid is far less widespread or just gets overshadowed.

Since Bardin is off the grid the clones have no idea where he would go. They ask around the Jedi on Kamino but Bardin was never very friendly with any of them. So they instead decide to see what they can find about Arla. Thanks to Emperor Vader the clones are given access to Arla’s arrest records and the subsequent psychiatric treatments she received while in prison. 

When it’s revealed that Arla was essentially enslavement by the Death Watch and used as a soldier it’s like a switch is flipped. Every last clone on Kamino suddenly realizes that the Death Watch did to Arla exactly what the Republic did to them. She really is their sister. A kindred spirit.

Cue the most quietly chaotic custody battle in history with various clone groups and individuals trying to figure out who gets to bring their dear sister and her Jedi husband home to Kamino.

It doesn’t really matter who does it bc the second she’s there she won’t be leaving. With the combined power of the entirety of Kamino it doesn’t take long to find the Jussik-Fett family.

And when they find out about reader? Their ori’vod’s precious ad’ika who’s force sensitive?!

Every single clone is obsessed and wants to be the best uncle.

Every. Single. Clone. 

(I have no idea how that would work out but I feel like the clones would find a way to organize it without completely overwhelming their ori’vod’s dear ad’ika)

Reader’s little family of three suddenly gets much MUCH bigger.

I can see Bardin Jussik being absolutely miserable after being wrangled onto Kamino. (He is absolutely not going without one hell of a fight. He is dragged in kicking and screaming)

The guy left the Jedi order in favor of a mandalorian lifestyle bc he hated the rigidity and hypocrisy of the Jedi. He hated how he couldn’t use his abilities to help more people just because the republic said he wasn’t allowed. Being constantly surrounded by the various Jedi artifacts spread around Kamino would most likely make him feel even more trapped than the bars of the cell that he was kept in before he finally calmed down and stopped biting any clone who would come near.

But he wouldn’t exactly have a chance to escape, especially not with his wife and child! The man would rather die than leave his family alone with the obsessed clones.

I can see him assisting in escapes, but not going with whoever gets loose. He always makes sure he won’t be tied back to the jailbreak so he and his family don’t get in trouble or separated as a punishment. 

(The clones quickly figure out the best way to keep him from trying anything is threatening to take his wife and reader away)

Arla would probably be conflicted about the situation. While she knows being imprisoned on Kamino is supposed to be terrible, she’s happy to be given a second chance at being a sister to Jango. Even if she knows the clones aren’t exactly him (mentally and emotionally that is). She has been in an abusive hostage situation before (Death Watch) but for some reason to her, this time it’s different…? The clones don’t burn a brand into her back like the Death Watch did. They don’t give her scars, don’t chain her up. They never hurt her. They are soft and loving, looking UP to her for guidance and making sure SHE is comfortable being called ori’vod and acting as an older sister to all of them. Many clones go to her for parenting advice and sometimes just to excitedly talk about their day or ask about hers. 

Arla’s mental health has been cracked from a young age. The clones somewhat use this to their advantage. Arla knows that what the clones are doing to the Jedi is wrong, but she also doesn’t entirely see the harm in it?

So many of the families living on Kamino are happy and healthy and everyone cares about one another. And Arla knows that as long as she stays, she’ll be surrounded by family and friends and love. She wouldn’t have to worry about armored soldiers bursting through the door and gunning down her family in front of her. Not again.

She knows Bardin is dissatisfied, and restless and she feels terrible for wanting to stay, but as long as she stays on Kamino, she knows her family is safe.

Reader starts off ecstatic. FINALLY having friends and family who understand them, and mentors willing to help them use the force properly. But before long they start feeling trapped again. Reader realizes they may have traded one prison for another. Lothal for Kamino. They still find themselves wanting to explore the stars. Reader eventually approaches ba’vodu Hunter and asks him if they can come along on the batch’s next expedition.

Hunter flat out says no. The Alphas are strictly against it. Reader asks around and literally every clone on Kamino says no to letting reader come along off world. It’s too dangerous out there for a naive little one like reader! They’re too sweet! Too innocent! (They are also literally getting close to being 18 and very much not a child anymore)

And reader finally realizes the mess they accidentally brought upon themself. 

one day they defeatedly walk up to Hunter, take a seat next to him, tiredly leaning their head on his shoulder.

“Remember that deal we made when we first met? And you promised to give me your best story about one of your adventures? I’m ready to hear it now…”

I’d love to know your thoughts on this! I’d love to know what you think would go differently. This wound up being a lot longer than I thought it would but I figured you might find it interesting! 

Your work is amazing, I think it’s SUPER creative. Please don’t forget to take care of yourself and have an amazing day!

I actually love this.

I dont have a whole lot.more to add except jango fett is still alive in my au. So that would make things extra interesting for aarla.

Also, Bardin and Vera would vibe. She orchestrates a majority of the successful escapes from kamino, and is glad to have his help.

[badlydrawndoc-scratch]

don't really have time or energy to draw this right now so. you're getting it in writing instead

It's not your birthday. At best, you would call it a day that someone who was you once was familiar with.

One that he didn't like either. Sure, you'd pretend to be him for a bit, accept some birthday wishes for him. But it wasn't your birthday. Not to you, at least. You think they all understand, to a point. Dirk does, at least.

That was why you weren't prepared to humour this conversation.

TG: this is hal isnt it

TG: not mad jst

TG: how do i say this?

TT: It seems there's a fairly large chance you're accusing me of not being myself, based off of a totally bullshit statistic.

TT: Care to elaborate?

TG: if u want me to tell u happy birthday 2 i can lmao

TG: dont hafta be weird about impersonatin dirk for that!!!

TT: I...

TT: Sorry. Holdon.

TT: There we go.

TT: As I was about to say, it's not technically my birthday. It's Dirk's. I wasn't even created today.

TT: I'll relay your well-wishes to him whenever he returns. Don't need to ask me about it.

TG: hmm nah i think i like havin' a hold of u for this

TG: if ur like

TG: not REALLY him

TG: but have his memories and shit

TG: todays ur day too

TG: so happy b-day! im not takin' that back either!

TT: ...

TT: I should go.

TT: Dirk probably won't like me monopolizing his account, even if he isn't here.

TT: Thanks, I guess.

You log off without another word, back in your sort-of space. Maybe you'll check in with Jane in a bit. Maybe you'll go through the internet for no apparent reason.

You can't say that that made you feel human. Or that it made you feel better, but... it made you think. It made you feel something. That was a start, right?

---

A firm series of slaps to the back of the cue-ball/head drags you out of your reverie. It's Itchy, hand poised to continue slapping you if you don't acknowledge him.

"Apologies. I must have became lost in thought," you begin, "as tends to happen with the omniscient. That said, there are better ways to get my attention."

Itchy shrugs and tells you he doesn't give a shit. He was just the fastest. The Felt needs you for somethin'. Somethin' he can't tell you about.

"Vague and somewhat sarcastic as always, Itchy. Just get to the point."

He just tells you you're no fun, before half dragging you out of one of your many studies. The whole manor is technically your study. But especially this one.

Itchy only bothers to take you about halfway, to where Crowbar is standing and waiting. He hardly says goodbye before dashing off to who-knows-where, probably to cause trouble somewhere else.

You pretend you don't know what's being hidden from you. You could figure out, and in the back of your mind you have figured out. But surprise is an emotion you like trying to fake.

Sometimes you wish you weren't faking it.

Crowbar walks up to you, with some off-handed comment about how he didn't expect Itchy to get you there on time. Or at all. He can never tell. Nonetheless, he's slightly more gentle when he offers you his hand, like he's not about to effectively drag you across an entire manor.

You don't remember the last time you've had actual contact with someone in a way that wasn't violent. You're not sure it's ever happened, honestly. (In reality, you know that isn't true. You were an indigoblood once, you recall. It's not as clear as the other memories, though.)

Crowbar's hand is felted, unsurprisingly, almost like a pool table. Again. Unsurprising. It's never surprising, but you commit the texture to memory anyway, all but ignoring what he's actually talking about. Something about a celebration.

He says they got the table stickball table fixed, and your attention is drawn again.

"Just call it a pool table."

He says he doesn't feel like it. It's a ball you hit with a stick on a table. Ain't a pool in sight. You agree, silently. The Alternian names for things were as foreign as they were ingrained; you knew them as much as you didn't know them.

Eventually, you're led into what you believe is the living room, and Crowbar lets go of your hand. You don't immediately adjust to the lack of feeling in your hand, almost like you were... severely touch-starved, actually, or something.

That's ridiculous, of course. You aren't technically alive, even if you're not as "soon to die" as you once were.

Someone, you think it could be Quarters, explains that all the Felt knows it isn't technically your birthday, and that it's only such by a few tangents. (You mentally add on that you weren't even created today).

But, Quarters adds, you've been stuck in a rut of sorts for a while. It wasn't really anyone's idea, he says. But it was agreed that it might get you feeling better for a while.

And, for once, you feel surprise. You never thought that they actually cared. Or even noticed. You're just their boss, of course. You're hardly even there.

(You have spent the past few months only leaving the Manor when you absolutely have to.)

You can't say it makes you feel alive. Or better, really. But it made you think. It made you feel something.

And, as you're dragged to play table stickball with Trace and Sawbuck, you decide that's a start.

[virtualcarrot]

[KKIR] Modern AU - Teaching Pains Pt5

Part 4

Prompt 5 : Exes/Memories

.

Iruka's bleary eyed and still half-asleep when a similarly out of it but powering through Kotetsu hooks an arm around the back of his neck.

“Sooo… You and Kakashi-sensei stayed up late together at the gym, uh.”

Iruka doesn't react. In all fairness he's too busy trying to figure whether or not he’ll capitulate to the early hour and abstain from one of the cheap donuts on the counter. On the one hand, he’s vaguely queasy. On the other hand, it’s free food, and also sugar, which should give him the necessary boost of energy to hang on until his brain gets fully online.

Before he can decide, Anko makes a grand entrance, her drill sergeant voice announcing her arrival. “All right, losers! The bake sale's ready and the Headmaster's office’s shut off from the public. Y’all ready to be productive members of society or are you gonna keep mooching off our hard work?”

With a coffee in hand and a coworker hanging off his shoulders, Iruka blinks back slowly. He barely registers Kotetsu hiding his face in his shoulder with a groan.

Ignoring them for the coat rack, Mizuki hangs his bag with a huff.

Anko meets Iruka's eyes and grins toothily. “Why, hello lover boy,” she drawls. “Have fun yesterday?”

Iruka pulls a face. “It's not like that and you know it.”

“Oh, do I?”

Faced with her too sharp eyes and growing all too aware of Mizuki's presence, he hides in his drink. “We were sparring,” he mutters into the mug.

“What was that?”

“We were sparring.”

Kotetsu releases him with a snort of laughter. “Is that what the kids call it, now?”

Sometimes, being on friendly terms with your coworkers is a curse.

“I assume most kids aren’t familiar with kumite, so I’d say: yes,” Iruka retorts curtly.

He doesn’t really like bringing up martial arts around Mizuki. There are old wounds they’ve rebuilt their friendship around that still remain tender. But he can’t let this sort of insinuation go unanswered either. It’s unprofessional, for starters, and also he could really, really do without the risk it might reach Kakashi’s ears if Iruka doesn’t nip it in the bud.

Much to his relief, Mizuki doesn’t sour at the topic. He draws closer instead, eyeing Iruka up and down the way he used to when they were kids and he was looking for injuries. “Are you alright?”

Iruka ducks his head. “Yeah, don’t worry. He went easy on me.”

He pauses, remembering his surprise of the previous evening, the warm feeling of making a pleasant, unexpected discovery.

“He’s actually really good, uh,” he adds, somewhat breathily.

Ever the realist, Mizuki gives him a little smile. “It’s more likely that you’re too out of practice,” he says gently, which Iruka can’t really dispute. “But it’s good that you had fun.”

Then, because they’re not actually paid to gossip, they all leave the teachers’ lounge and go open the school to the public. Mizuki falls into step with him while he goes to round the last arrived volunteer students--for a value of volunteer where Iruka just ended up conscripting additional kids until they had enough people.

That Naruto didn't put up more of a fight feels like an admirable growth of his character, truthfully.

“You should be careful,” Mizuki says, breaking the companionable silence.

In the process of a mental review of the performances and workshops they've got planned for the next day, Iruka has trouble following the non sequitur.

“What?”

“Kakashi-sensei. You had a tense relationship, and he's been mellowing to you--which is great. But it wouldn't do for people to think it's in return for… services. Or that you'd compromise your students for that.” At Iruka's stricken look, he waves a hand in the air with a rueful smile. “Don’t worry, I don't think that. But you know how tongues wag.”

Which is of course the moment Iruka’s phone chooses to chime with a new text. Any cheer he might have derived from Kakashi asking about his morning freezes over. He hastily shoves his phone back into his pocket. Mizuki gives him a pointed, knowing look but is kind enough not to comment.

Thankfully, Iruka doesn't have time to ruminate. Visitors may be slow on the first hours of open day but that's all the better to ready them for the later inpouring. Future students, their parents and concerned family members number that crowd, along with the visiting families of their current ones; the true bulk of it, though, are the random bystanders excited for the free spectacle Ebisu sets up with the kids every year. If only for Sasuke, Lee, Tenten and Neji’s feats of gymnastics and martial arts, the trip is worth it.

By the time the rush fully starts, Iruka has already broken two fights between Ino and Sakura, yelled Shikamaru awake from a nap, reminded Chōji that the cakes from the bake sale are for sale, and stepped in to support Hinata before she passed out at the prospect of talking to a group of total strangers asking for her opinion on the school curriculum.

After which lunch-time arrives.

He distributes the complimentary sandwiches the school provides their little volunteers--but not the teachers--and then takes a very hypocritically cake-filled break in guise of a meal. It's more sugar than he enjoys, but he didn't have time to cook the evening before and knows from experience that the local shops will be crowded from their own visitors looking for something to eat.

Somewhere past two in the afternoon, Kakashi shows up with takeout coffee from Iruka's favorite place. Iruka's never resented someone more for making him like them.

“Isn’t today a university day?” he asks, washing the lingering sweetness from his mouth with a blessedly dark roast.

It's a bit rude, by way of greetings, but Kakashi doesn't take offense. If anything, his eye curves in that congenial arch like Iruka's just the most entertaining thing he's been given to see.

“Had two free hours ahead, thought I'd check how it's going,” he replies, with the sort of nonchalance that tells Iruka those hours were probably not supposed to be nearly this idle.

“Office hours?” he can't help but ask, trying to ignore Suzume adjusting her glasses at them a few classrooms over.

Unperturbed, Kakashi chuckles. “Office hours,” he confirms with an expectant smirk.

But Iruka doesn't segue into his usual rant about responsibility and student needs. Leading a group of wide eyed pre-teens and their flustered parents across the hallway, Kotetsu's just sent a thumbs up behind his back and with it, made his spine freeze.

He doesn’t have time to linger anyway. The gymnastics performance is drawing near, which means it’s almost time to begin corralling the interested visitors towards the gymnasium that a not insignificant proportion of them won’t fail to miss, and that’s in spite of Izumo’s indications on the PA system and the many printed signs they’ve tacked all over the school in preparation.

To top it all, Iruka hasn't seen Naruto in a while which never bodes well.

He heaves a sigh at the thought. “Sorry, Kakashi-sensei, I’ve got to get back to it. Really appreciate the coffee, though.”

Kakashi takes one look at the milling visitors and nods. “Sure. Don’t let me keep you. And good luck.”

It takes all of Iruka’s willpower not to smile in thanks, lest he look too familiar, though he doesn’t get long to brood over it. He’s barely walked past one classroom that he's caught by a family of four asking about the facilities and the disciplines taught and whether there’s a waiting list they might sign on to make sure their daughter of six years old gets in when she’s of age. He wants to sympathize with wanting to do good by one’s child, but his experience teaching the kids of such parents, pressured towards performance like the adults around them think they’re coal they might compress into diamonds, makes him deeply skeptical. And anyway, there’s no such thing as a waiting list, which he tells them, before directing them to a few booklets in the library and drafting Sakura to lead them there and answer any further questions.

Finally free, he slips away.

The good thing about having been a troublemaker in this very school, is that Iruka’s well versed in its real estate of hiding places. The downside is, he’s grown complacent in updating that knowledge.

By the time he’s about to give up and rejoin the event, Iruka’s no closer to finding Naruto. At this point, he has half a thought that Naruto should hope he doesn’t find him, because he won’t make any promises as to the kid’s life expectancy once Iruka gets his hands on him.

Fate must really be conspiring against Naruto, then, because Iruka’s doing his last check in the remote corridor leading to the Headmaster’s office when he catches sight of a blue and orange sleeve hiding behind a cabinet with pictures and diplomas of former headmasters.

He sneaks closer for greater impact when he yells.

“Naruto!”

The resulting screech of horror is deafening.

Sitting on the floor with one hand clutched to his heart and his bag at his feet, Naruto laughs nervously. “Aaah, Iruka-sensei, you found me,” he says, rubbing the back of his head.

Iruka gives him the sort of even look that Naruto should know means this situation can go either way, and it’s all up to him.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

Naruto looks away with the jitters of someone readying a lie, and a bad one at that. Iruka crosses his arms sternly to dissuade him.

It’s enough that Naruto slumps, sullen, and draws his knees to his chest. “It’s just… There are a lot of people.”

“Ah?”

“Lots of… families…”

“Ah.”

Iruka steps around him and the cabinet, and slides down the wall until he meets Naruto on the floor.

“Can’t be easy,” he says casually, looking at the faded paint of the wall across.

“It’s fine,” Naruto mutters to his knees.

Iruka nudges his shoulder and doesn’t say anything. He remembers when he lost his parents, how it was to be young and alone and counting only on himself. Sometimes, a mere presence was enough to help. That, and warm food, which is his usual approach, but he doesn’t have any to offer Naruto at the moment. He makes a note to take him out for ramen sometime soon.

On the loudspeakers, Izumo informs them that the first performance of the afternoon will start in five minutes.

“Hey, Iruka-sensei?”

“Hm?”

“Do you think I’ll pass this grade?”

Truthfully, the question is one Iruka has been pondering himself. While Kakashi’s tutoring has noticeably improved Naruto’s grades in physics and chemistry, and given him confidence to tackle the other disciplines he had given up on, he still has a long way to go.

Iruka sighs. “I don’t know, Naruto,” he answers honestly.

Naruto hugs his legs tighter. “I’m not stupid, you know? It’s just difficult. But I’m really trying my hardest.”

“I’ve never doubted that,” Iruka says, because it’s true. He’s watched Naruto sit hours long in front of his textbooks, hair in even greater disarray than usual as he pulled it every which way in frustration. Truthfully, Iruka sometimes suspects part of his learning difficulties might be closer to disabilities, but he’s been having trouble communicating it to the head of the orphanage, who’s a bit too convinced that Naruto’s just acting out in a bid for attention--which he is--and would by extension benefit from being ignored so as not to reward his behavior--which he doesn’t.

Daikoku isn’t a bad man, but if anything Naruto’s been a harsh lesson to Iruka on the limits of his good intentions.

“I don’t want to repeat the year,” Naruto admits in a small voice.

And Iruka gets why. Kakashi’s guidance isn’t the only reason worth crediting for Naruto’s improvement these last months. Working in a smaller group, out of the more merciless dynamic of a full classroom, has finally given him an opportunity to bond with his classmates. He has friends now. And a rival. Which is kind of a friend, Iruka thinks.

He ruffles Naruto’s hair affectionately.

“Then let’s keep working hard to make sure you don’t, eh?” he says. “Come on, let’s go. Ebisu-sensei’s going to lose his mind if he’s missing one of his stars when the show starts.”

Naruto seems only slightly mollified, but that’s to be expected. Some things take time.

He does get up after Iruka, who counts it as a small victory.

~

Part 6

@kakairu-rocks (I'll finish the fic past the official allotted time of the event but at least these fills will have been posted on time)

[newvegascowboy]

For both Red and Courier!Cecelia - 1, 12, 18, and... 47.

For Red - 7, 11, and 31

For Cecelia: 19 and 49

It's a lot I know, no pressure Kal. Hier sind Kekse.

:3 under the cut for length

Red and Cecelia

which faction did they side with (NCR, legion, yes-man, or house)?

Red - Yes Man. Though Red was forced to work with the NCR during the latter part of their Mojave campaign, Red had a contingency plan that ensured that Vegas, including Freeside and Westside, would be under control of Yes Man. The Followers, namely Arcade, were given the passwords in control of Yes Man, since Red trusted that they would do what was best. Cecelia - NCR. She doesn't like the NCR and doesn't trust them, but she hates the Legion more, and she didn't believe that total anarchy was the best way to secure the Mojave in the wake of the Legion's defeat.

how did the bullet affect them?

Red - Total amnesia, with flashes of memory here and there, blind in the left eye and around 90% deaf in their left ear. Red eventually regains their memory and is given a cybernetic eye that restores vision in their left eye. Cecelia - It didn't affect her too badly. Her vision in the right eye is a little blurry, and she gets headaches in the bright light. It actually benefited her in a way, since it kind of kicked her Psyker abilities into overdrive.

what do the people on the strip think of them? the omertas, the white gloves, the chairmen, ncr military police, mr. house? do the gamblers like them?

Red - Red is known for being at the epicenter of chaos, and usually violence. The families on the Strip don't particularly care for them since Red rarely patronizes their establishments. The NCR... likes them? Sort of? Less so after the NCR figures out about their past. Mr. House thinks they're a cunt. Red is offputting to most people, since try as they might, they can't quite hide the fact that they're a killer first. Kind of like hearing a rattlesnake and not knowing where it is - you're just kind of on edge. Cecelia - Cecelia is largely unknown presence in Vegas. No matter how much trouble she causes, she just... doesn't seem to be noticed. Benny barely remembers her when she shows up at the Tops. She's just a shadow in the corners. House thinks she's competent, but too smart. The NCR thinks she's reliable. The people in Freeside associate her with the Followers, and they're liked, so so is she.

what are their vices? are they an alcoholic, a thief, a hoarder?

Red - SMOKES. Smokes so much. They become such a bitch if they don't smoke. I guess you could also consider their penchant for violence a vice. Cecelia - She has sticky fingers. She has no qualms about stealing something if she thinks she might have a use for it. Both of them are good gamblers.

Red

favorite companions? least favorite companions?

Favorites - Boone, Ed-e Least favorites - Rex (Rex gets booted to guard the mormon fort) It's complicated - Arcade, Raul, Cass

when, why and how did they become a courier? how long did they remain a courier before benny shot them?

Red became a courier shortly after they and Cecelia arrived in Freeside. Cecelia joined the Followers, and told Jack under no uncertain terms that she was done with the outlaw life, and if they weren't, then she was done with them. In order to make an honest living, Jack got a job as a courier. They did courier work for a few months, based out of the Mormon Fort, before the platinum chip job.

where do they usually sleep? do they have more than one home location? do they live with any other people?

Red's favorite place to stay is Goodsprings. That's where they end up making permanent residence upon their return to the Mojave. Usually though, Red sleeps rough or just finds an empty bunk since they work so much.

Cecelia

what is their motive for taking vegas?

She thinks the Mojave deserves a shot at stability, and without House, the NCR is the best shot. She's seen what anarchy leads to, with Westside in poverty and the Kings controlling most of Freeside, and she knows the Followers aren't going to stay forever. She doesn't like the NCR, but she likes the Legion even less.

did they kill caesar? vulpes inculta? what about prominent ncr figures, like kimball and colonel hsu? 

She took Boone to kill Caesar, and she killed Vulpes in Nipton. She thinks Kimball (and Oliver) are fucking idiots, but since she's working with the NCR, she can't really do anything about it. She likes Hsu, though.

[nandysparadox]

A Wish Your Heart Makes - Ch.3 ♡

Have faith in your dreams and someday

Prev - Chapter Three - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Rated T - CW: discussion about fantasy discrimination, implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced past parental death - WC: 7604

-

Soft light rippled through the creek. The sound of the water as it washed downstream was Patton’s only company as he waited by the river bank. He searched the ground for a smooth pebble and when he found one, he threw it into the brook. It skipped once, twice, then sunk. Patton sighed as he sat back on his haunches. With his foot, he nudged the bag he’d brought with him. It rested against his ankles. He curled his arms around his legs.

He’d practically raided his own hide-out to gather all of it, opening the chest he’d kept for years and taking every little thing from it he thought might interest a faerie. His heart ached with each trinket and memento he slipped inside the drawstring bag. It struck him as a betrayal, to his own memories, to his family who’d trusted him with them. But what choice did he have? That faerie in the market had offered him in a little bag far more riches than Patton had ever had his hands on at once, all for a pocket watch. His parents would understand if they were there. He loved all those things dearly, and he didn’t know what he’d make of himself now without their comfort, but stars above, he’d never been so close to following through with his plan. It might be his only chance.

He stretched out his shoulders, holding in a yawn. It was late. He’d have to be careful not to return too close to sunrise. That faerie… Patton wondered if he’d really come, or if his hope had been for nothing. At the market, the other seemed almost giddy at Patton’s offer. …He was a bit of an odd fellow, wasn't he? Most fae thought his glasses were strange and occasionally commented on them, but none had ever recognized them as belonging to the human world. It almost blew Patton’s cover, and he’d very nearly panicked, but the faerie had just assumed he was a collector. Wasn’t that something?

At first, Patton had thought he was maybe a spring nymph, because of the little flowers that bloomed through the waves of his hair and the rose-petal curve of his cheeks. But when he spoke, it became quite clear he couldn’t be anything but gentry - and a noble at that! He wore deep shades of ruby red and gold. His posture and tone carried a charm and grace Patton expected from royals in his mother’s stories, and yet… there was a sort of whimsical, childish enthusiasm in his actions. Patton looked away, twisting the cord of his glamour necklace around his finger.

He didn’t quite know what to make of the other. His curiosity and interest in the human world were genuine, that much was clear, but what did that really tell Patton about his intentions? He felt guilty about assuming the worst, but being easily charmed by humans didn’t mean harmless. Patton should know that better than anyone. Argh. Maybe he was worrying too much again? He didn't know what to expect, that was the worst part of it.

Before he could think any more of it, branches and leaves rustled in the distance. Patton stood and cautiously, he neared the tree line to check. He caught a brief glimpse of a cherry-red cloak, and before he knew it, a willowy figure stumbled out of the glittering trees, long legs all wrapped up in brushwood. Startled, Patton took a step back.

The faerie kicked and tugged at his feet until they came unstuck, nearly tripping over in the process. With a shuddering breath, he brushed a strand of hair that reached just past his jaw away from his face. His eyes widened when they fell on Patton.

“Oh,” the faerie said, winded. “There you are.”

“Um, hello!” Patton waved at him, a nervous laugh falling from his lips. “You didn’t have any trouble finding your way here, I hope?”

The other shifted his weight to the side, mouth pressed into a firm line.

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, as if he resented the fact he had to say it.

Fae and their honesty.

“Ah. Well, shoot, I’m sorry about that,” Patton rubbed the back of his neck. What a thing to say — he should’ve seen the other obviously had gotten turned around! “Maybe I should’ve told you to meet me at the market, then I could’ve led you here myself…”

The faerie raised his hand, shaking his head. “No, no. I should be the one to apologize.” Grimacing, he curled his fingers into his palm. “I’m dreadfully late. You haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

“Not much, no!” Patton waved his hand. He put on a chipper smile as he returned to the river bank to pick up his things. Hefting his bag into his arms, he said, “You’re here at just the right time. Now! If you would, I’ve brought some things for you to see—”

Patton paused, turning around. He felt a little rude, referring to him only as ‘the faerie’, even if only in his head.

“…Actually, I was wondering, is there anything you’d like to be called?”

“Oh! Right, it wouldn’t do any good to keep coming up with epithets for each other, now, would it?” The faerie cleared his throat, and then, with a big, dramatic sweep of his arms, he bowed — just as the performers did at the end of all the plays Patton had watched when he was little.

“You may call me Ro, I—”

He froze in motion for a pinpoint of a second, then straightened back up flawlessly, a charming grin plastered on his face. Even still, Patton could see there was a hint of nervousness to it.

“Ro,” Patton repeated, testing it. His eyes flitted to all the flower-shaped buttons that ran down the other’s white shirt, and the petals that peeked under his hood. It clicked. “Short for rose, I suppose?”

He chuckled under his breath at the accidental rhyme. Patton really had no room to judge. He remembered his own false name — the silly thing Deceit had called him since the day they met. It would work.

“Well, then. Hello, Ro! You may call me Cinder!”

At that, Ro simply looked at him, curious, in the way you’d maybe study over an intriguing puzzle. It lasted longer than a normal glance, and discomfort began to creep under Patton’s skin. He averted his eyes, twisting the bag's drawstring around his finger. He let the silence between them stretch out for another moment before it became unbearable. Uneasy, he sprung into action and moved to a spot of short grass, where he set down the bag.

“Um, as I was saying, I’ve brought you some things I think you might find interesting!” He reached inside the bag and drew out a tablecloth, then stretched it out over the ground. Patton sat down, thankfully avoiding any rocks, and urged Ro to do the same. “Sit, sit!”

Ro did so, folding his legs and tucking them to the side, his hands firmly over his lap — a noble gentry sitting on the ground, awkward as a lost little duckling. The thought made him huff a laugh, as he pulled the drawstring open and poured the bag’s contents over the cloth. He arranged the objects as best as he could.

Ro brightened immediately at the sight of them.

“What do you think?”

He didn’t get an answer. Ro seemed beyond enchanted by all the trinkets before him — eyes flitting from each to the next in excitement. He reached out for one, gleaming silver, and carefully cupped it in his hands. The compass, Patton recognized. Ro tilted it that way and that. The needle swayed with the motion. He brought it closer to his ear.

“Is this a sort of… pocket watch?”

“A pocket watch? Oh, no, I mean, I guess they might look a little similar, but that one is what’s actually called a compass.”

“Huh,” Ro said. “What is it for?”

For whatever reason, that caught Patton off guard. Ro looked at him expectantly.

“…Humans use it for directions,” he explained, “See the needle? It points to the North, wherever you are.”

“Couldn’t they just look at the sun for that?”

Patton fiddled with the tablecloth. “Well, yes,” he conceded, “But w– humans don’t have the same magical connection to the earth as fae do. You might be able to just feel where the North is, whenever you glance up at the sun or the stars, but humans can’t do that — not precisely, at least.”

“You mean to tell me humans have built tools that make up for a lack of magic?” Ro tapped against the side of the compass, awed. “That’s ingenious.”

There was no hint of irony in his tone, as far as Patton could find, or even the condescending amusement one would get from impressive little things. He meant it, and fae couldn’t lie, not with their words. And so Patton was left completely and utterly baffled.

Ro, of course, didn’t catch any of that. He continued, leaning closer and cradling the compass in his hands. “Tell me, how does it work, without any enchantment?”

Patton tapped his fingers against the ground, glancing at Ro from the corner of his eye. He was genuinely intrigued by the context behind the little gadget, wasn’t he?

…Patton didn’t understand.

“I can’t tell you exactly, but I’m quite sure it isn’t any enchantment — the needle is made of steel, and charged so it aligns itself with the poles.”

Ro tilted his head. “That sounds like a kind of magic to me.”

“Maybe it is, in its own way,” Patton shrugged. “But not fae magic. You’d be able to feel it if it was, wouldn’t you?”

Ro hummed. “I suppose,” He examined the compass for a little longer, then lowered it back to the ground. “Though, if this is not a pocket watch, then what is a pocket watch for, after all? And all the other ticking boxes?”

That broke him out of his last train of thought. Ticking boxes? What on earth… oh!

“A pocket watch is a small type of clock,” Patton said. “Which I think is what you meant by ‘ticking boxes’, isn’t it? They all tell the time.”

“The time? How so?”

“All you have to do is know how to read them. The hands mark the hours and the minutes. It’s just as it was with the compass — humans can’t predict the time as exactly as fae can, so they keep large clocks inside their homes and smaller ones like pocket watches on the go.”

“And that noise they make? What is it?” Ro asked, and it was such a simple, earnest question, that it pulled the explanation buried inside Patton’s memory right out of him.

“That’s just the mechanism at work! Inside most clocks, there’s a weight, or a spring, that pulses in a certain beat. It drives gears that click click click against each other, and that then drives the hands of the clock into the right marks. …Well, it’s a little more complex than that, actually, but did it make sense?”

“I did not understand a word of that,” Ro said. An excited smile bloomed across his face. “But it was fascinating. What a creative invention. I’ve never heard of such things before. It’s— incredible.”

Patton found himself smiling wide right along with him. He’s never had to explain any of these things to anyone — commonplace as they were in his old life — but he figured he couldn’t have done a bad job. Ro had listened to him with rapt attention, and now, he scanned over the objects set out before him with, if such a thing was even possible, even more enthusiasm! Patton watched, amused, as Ro sifted through them, and as his hands lingered over a tiny, cardboard box, smaller than his palm. He shook it, and it rattled. A puzzled look flashed over Ro’s face. He slid it open with a tap of his fingers and drew out of it a thin, wooden stick, with a round tip just as vibrant red as his eyes.

“What is this?” Ro asked. He squinted at the worn label glued to the back of the box. “Safety match?”

Patton held out his hand. “Let me show you.”

Ro handed him the box, and he pulled out another match. Turning the matchbox to its side, he flicked it against it a few hard times. It took little time for the small sparks to light into a burst of flame. Patton blew the fire out before it spread down.

Matches could be a bit trickier to use than fire-shards, but they were handy in a pinch, and he doubted Ro had ever seen one.

True to his word, Ro looked at the burnt match with wide, sparkling eyes — like he’d seen a new type of spell cast right in front of him.

“Wow.”

Patton offered him the box.“Would you like to try?”

Ro nodded fervently as he took it from Patton, leg bouncing in excitement. He tapped the tip of the match against the grainy part of the lid.

“Do I just…?”

“Yep! Just do what I did!”

A determined look crossed his face, and Ro began to drag the match over the striker. He struggled to get more than a few sparks for a few seconds, but in a sudden hard flick of his wrist, the match was set ablaze. The small flame lit up his face in a warm gleam that brought out the golden glow of his tawny brown skin. He beamed, just as bright — cradling the match as if he could just curl up on it. Patton caught a glimpse of one long finger moving awfully close to that same fire, and in a pang of worry, he rushed to put it out with a harsh blow.

Ro’s face dropped immediately, in what could only be described as the look of a kicked puppy. And that pout was so silly on him, and, if Patton was to be honest, unfairly cute, so despite himself — he fell into a fit of giggles, doubling over.

Ro crossed his arms with an offended huff.

“Sorry,” Patton tried, stumbling over laughter. “It’s just — you know, just because the flame’s small, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t burn.”

“Oh,” Ro said, and Patton could’ve sworn there was a pink tint to his cheeks. He dropped the match down unceremoniously. Patton laughed all over again, and this time, Ro joined him.

After catching his breath, Ro tucked the stray hairs that had fallen out of his hood back in place. He turned his attention back to the human items before him. And so the night went on. With eager hands, he’d pick out things and examine them from every which angle. He’d pry boxes open and struggle with the things that were never meant to be opened. He’d ask Patton questions about their purpose, how they worked, how they were made, and Patton would try his best to answer all of them, remembering the times his father sat with him in his armchair to do the same.

Still, sometimes he felt he was just as clueless as the other on some things. He’d never imagined how they built a ship in a bottle, especially one as tiny as that, and he couldn’t use an astrolabe if you’d asked him to. But Ro never seemed to mind. He’d cling to any answers Patton had for him. Any ordinary detail or story was captivating. He’d glow with awe at the most mundane things. They spent almost an hour like that, questions and more questions. And, truthfully… Patton enjoyed it, far too much. And maybe he should be more cautious, you could never be too careful with fae, but…

All over the years, he’d kept all his memories of the human world crammed tight inside his chest, a comforting treasure for himself only. He’d never thought he’d share any of it and yet… it felt nice, warm, to have someone listen, interested in his world past the superficial. Even if it was under false pretenses, he’d never imagined he’d do this.

Ro set down a pair of compasses — the drafting kind, Patton had to explain the mix-up with the names �� and propped his arm over his knee, resting his cheek over the back of his hand. He glanced at Patton, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“You know so many things. How have you learned all of this?”

“I’ve traveled a lot,” Patton said, simply, with a shrug of his shoulders. “Folk from all places have stories to tell.”

It wasn’t quite true. He’d spent most of his life in only a few familiar places, and that applied to the human world just as it did to Fairyland. It was still the best excuse he could find — vague, but justified.

Ro leaned closer. “So you’ve been to the human world many times?”

“Far too many to count.”

A frog croaked in the distance, Ro’s gaze drifted to the creek. He smiled, a little wistfully. “I’ve never heard of a faerie who spends so much time there.”

Patton folded the hem of his sleeve between his fingers. “I’ve had my feet in both realms for a long time now,” he said, then gave Ro a small smile, “But it’s not the kind of thing I usually talk about.”

Ro is silent for a moment.

“Then, if you don’t mind, there’s a question that’s been burning on my mind for ages,” he started, and Patton braced himself for whatever it was. If he’d have to come up with new cover stories. But Ro simply pointed to Patton’s glasses, tilting his head. “Your… shades, you said they help you see, but there’s not a sign of enchantment in them. How is that?”

Patton sighed a little in relief.

“They do help me see. It’s— you saw the lenses are made of glass, right? Well, the glass is warped, sorta, and that changes the course of the light that reaches my eyes. It makes things less blurry. They’re called glasses, in the human world.”

Ro shifted his weight to his other leg. “Could I try them on?”

Patton chuckled, surprised.

“Sure!” he said, slipping them off and offering them to Ro. Things blurred into dim colors almost immediately, blue and silver and scarlet, but he presumed the other had put them on.

“How do I look?”

He giggled. “I can’t see a thing without them, Ro.”

“Oh. Right.” Ro said. “I can’t quite see anything with them on, either — weren’t they supposed to make things clearer?”

Patton felt the glasses as they were pressed against his palm. He pushed them over his nose. When his vision cleared, he saw Ro’s confused pout. Patton snickered. Cute.

“Not if you already see well — I’ve never seen you with pixie shades on.”

“That makes sense,” Ro said, with a small laugh. He scratched the side of his head. “But I do wonder — my friend, he does wear pixie shades, would it work for him as well as it does for you?”

“Maybe,” Patton answered, although he honestly had no clue — and he sure hoped it was true, in case Ro got the itch to check. “But ah– I can’t really be sure, you know? Um. Anyway, was there anything that caught your eye?”

Ro seemed jarred, either by the sudden change of subject, or maybe by Patton’s pun — it wasn’t his best material, to be honest, he’d already made that wordplay once — but he got over it quickly. He raised a hand to Patton, a sign for ‘wait’, and reached inside his cloak. Patton saw the outline of his hands in his pockets. Then, he pulled more than a dozen bags out of them and promptly plopped them right into Patton’s lap.

“I’ll take all of them — will that suffice?”

Patton gently pried a bag open. He had to keep his jaw from dropping again. There was about as much in it as there was last time — gems, coins, and maybe a few charms, if he was seeing correctly. All very valuable, a bargaining chip just about any faerie would accept, and if it was multiplied by the amount of bags — Patton had never seen as much fortune as this, let alone had it. The thought of how close that pushed him to having enough was dizzying.

He remembered he’d been asked a question.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “Here, I’ll give you the bag too.”

With the help of two, fitting all of the things back into the drawstring bag was far easier. They made quick work of it. Then, he helped Ro stand, and folded the tablecloth into a small square.

When Patton stood back up, he caught Ro looking at him again. His fringe had fallen back over his face, but he didn’t move to brush it away.

“Will you be at the market again tomorrow?” Ro asked, playing with the trimming of his cloak.

Huh.

Patton didn’t really expect the other would want to see him after the business with their deal was done but…

More surprising was that he didn’t mind at all, the thought of seeing the faerie again.

Patton smiled, and this time, there was nothing ‘put-on’ about it.

“I will.”

—♡—

“And the poor thing just looked so sad. Now, usually, I take the clothes home and fix them up there,” Cinder laughed and leaned his weight onto the counter. Above him, strung-up flask-lights swayed with the motion and sent flashes of color dancing over his skin. “But I stitched up her torn skirt right in the middle of the market. She had to stand up in the booth while I did it.”

A gentle breeze swept past the trees and carried shimmering leaves down to the clearing. The night had been far quieter — but no less lively. It glowed, as bright as it had last time. The echoes of the market, fae mingling and carousing, rang around them still, a low hum in the background. The energy of it all buzzed under Roman’s skin. He leaned against the side of Cinder’s stall, laughing along with him.

He hadn’t planned to return, not at first. He’d gone through with the trade, and as promised, left with all sorts of intriguing human objects. He found them a home inside the burrow, where they fit in perfectly in the nooks and crannies of his collection. And yet, he gained so much more than that. Answers that he’d yearned for since he had a glimpse of the world beyond a fairy ring. Knowledge he’d never even dreamed of. It was exhilarating. Each new piece of information made the picture in his mind clearer, like brushstrokes in a painting. And it all came from one mysterious faerie, who traipsed the threshold between realms and shone when he talked of it.

The words had poured out of Roman before he could even bid him goodbye. He had to see him again. And Roman hadn’t regretted it for a second. They didn’t talk about the human world that night, as they were surrounded by other fae, but they chatted about more mundane things — Cinder’s business, customer stories, and the affairs on that side of the forest. He found all of it as thrilling an answer as all the others. Roman looked at Cinder, smiling.

“Do many kinds of fae come around here?” he asked.

“Ah, yes, all sorts of folks!” Cinder said, flipping down his hand. “From nymphs to gnomes — all types of wild fae, really. For lone faeries, they aren’t all that lonesome, are they?”

Cinder giggled, leaning on his elbow. Roman’s eyes lingered over his shirt collar, which rode down to bare the lines of his neck. Roman’s face warmed. How silly of him, it was nothing more than a chaste glimpse of skin. Remus did always say he was hopeless when it came to such things. Perhaps he was right. Roman couldn’t help it. Never once in his life had he been shy, but around the other, he felt a moment away from making a fool of himself, he stumbled over his words, tripped over sentences. Even as he introduced himself, what had spilled from his lips wasn't ‘Florian’ as he’d meant to, but instead his sibling’s nickname for him. It wasn’t enough of his name to be dangerous, but still. He felt as if he'd lost his head a little.

“You know, “ Cinder said, circling a finger over the counter. “I think the kind of fair folk I most rarely see around here are you gentry.”

“So I've heard,” Roman rested his head against the stall. “I do wonder why… this place is beautiful.”

Cinder huffed out a laugh. “Too far away from the palace, I imagine; wouldn't want to dirty their boots just to come mingle with the wild fae.”

Roman looked down, tapping his fingers against his forearm. He couldn’t even refute it. Spirits knew how haughty the bulk of the Court could be.

“But, to be fair, they aren’t the only ones,” Cinder sighed. “Did you know sprites used to come by the dozens here? They were fond of my glittery thread, I always cut them a piece. I haven’t seen one flit about since last summer.”

Roman tilted his head, glancing at him. “Why?“

“I don’t know much about it, but… I’ve heard whispers,” Cinder said. He dug his nail into the wood grooves. “There’s been a territory dispute, with the pixies ‘round their willow tree. I don’t think it has been resolved yet.”

A vague memory of it came to mind. One of the many topics rattled off in a session, while he tapped his feet against the ground and drew invisible shapes in the arm of his chair, mind far away from it all.

“I’ve heard of that, I think, it was brought up in the Court. What was it?” He chuckled. “A little squabble over a higher branch, or so they said.”

Cinder paused. “…I didn’t know you were a part of the Court.”

“I’m not,” Roman said. He fidgeted with the hem of his cloak. “Not yet, at least. But… My family is. I’m kept in the loop.”

Thank the moon for technical truths.

Cinder stayed silent for a moment, his brow furrowed. “…I think it’s a little unfair,” he started, “To speak of it like that. I mean, I’m sure that for the sprites it must be a very serious matter.”

“Well, yes, it may be a bit harsh,” Roman scratched the side of his neck. “But generally the Court’s concerns lie with affairs that affect the whole kingdom.”

“And so it’s not important?” Cinder raised an eyebrow. He scoffed under his breath. “Of course none of them would think so. Are there any sprites in the Court at all? I’m sure they’d say otherwise.”

Roman’s mouth fell open, “Of course there are sprites in the Court!”

“But they can’t get a word in, can they?”

His rebuttal couldn’t make it past his lips. He averted his eyes, making a fist in the fabric of his cloak. He knew the truth, despite it all. The nobles of the Court sent little more than sideways glances to anyone who didn’t fit their picture of gentry, Roman was well aware of that — it’d be foolish to pretend otherwise.

“What good is it to be in the Court if the others in it think that you’re too small for your problems to matter? If they won’t give a second thought to anything that happens away from the palace?” Cinder drummed insistently on the wooden board, voice like iron. “A few of the ruler-consorts are wild fae, so should we just rely entirely on them to be our voice? How come the gentry make up most of the court in the first place?”

“…It’s just that gentry tend to hold the higher ranks in their season’s court,” he tried — the excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. “It’s what’s done.”

“Just because it’s what’s done, doesn’t mean it’s what should be done,” Cinder said firmly. Then, he sighed, defeated.

“The people have to deal with the decisions made in the Court every day. Something like this… it isn’t just something for nobles to groan at and discuss from up in their towers — it’s people’s lives. How can they just—,” His voice cracked, thick with emotion. “—dismiss that?”

Roman was rendered silent, left to helplessly stare at Cinder — at the determined set of his jaw, the hard steel in his gaze. His words carried not just the weight of righteous indignation but of deep, heartbroken compassion that pierced straight through Roman’s chest. He swallowed.

Something had sparked in Cinder, as he spoke — something different, that Roman hadn’t expected to see on him. Like… a match, it’d struck him and he’d been set ablaze, quick and bright. A resplendent display of sparks that could fit in the palm of a hand. A flame that burned, glowed with the strength of a wildfire. Bold, bewitching, tempting. The kind that promised warmth with a hint of danger.

And he’d been right, even if he didn’t know just how so. Roman, in his position, certainly could’ve done more, a lot more, than simply treating the kingdom’s problems as a chore to be dealt with. Shame pooled in his throat.

He let the silence between them linger for a touch too long, perhaps, for as a match would, Cinder’s fire burnt out as swiftly as it had been lit. The other paled, shifting his weight.

“Oh goodness, I got heated there, didn’t I?” he said, a nervous laugh trailing behind it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Roman raised a hand. Cinder clicked his mouth shut.

“Please, don’t apologize,” Roman said. With a deep breath, he dared to approach the booth and take Cinder’s hands with his own. “You’re right.”

Cinder blinked. “Huh?”

His expression had shifted now to puzzled, but Roman could feel it, still, in his warm hands. The embers that simmered just beneath the surface. And for a moment, Roman wished for nothing more than to follow him, to be able to burn just as bright.

“You’re right,” Roman repeated. “It is not fair, and it is not good,” he sighed, casting his gaze down to their hands. “I wish I could say I had the solution.”

“Hey,” Cinder gave him a tentative, small smile. “I don’t claim to have any answers either.”

“But you had the question,” Roman countered, as he untangled their hands. “That’s the beginning, isn’t it?”

“The beginning of what?”

“Change,” Roman tilted his head to smile at him. “Who knows what you’ll start.”

“All this talk of change,” Cinder brushed back his hair with a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Now you’re just being overzealous.”

“Surely, Cinder, you’ve been told to dream big before.”

With that remark, Cinder fell into giggles. A sound as sweet as the ringing wind chimes that hung in every other booth. The glimmering strands of his hair reflected moonlight. And, in a beat, Roman’s breath had been stolen from him. He blinked. Oh.

Oh. Stars above. He might be in over his head.

—♡—

Ro returned to the market often, throughout the whole week.

Sometimes alone, sometimes with his raven friend. He’d be there by dusk, right next to Patton’s booth, where they’d talk the night away. Even his patrons had begun to notice Ro’s steady presence. Patton had teased that he’d have to start making him man the stall, earning a chuckle in response. He’d brought out a crate to sit on.

It was unexpected, just how easily Ro slotted into Patton’s routine, but he wasn’t complaining. No, never. It became another reason he’d look forward to the night, seeing the other, especially as difficult days began to pile on. They’d chat about all manner of things, and the time seemed to just fly away from them. He wished the moments could linger for longer, sometimes, but he’d take what he could get.

After a while, Patton realized that Ro truly was as sweet as he was odd. He told stories of his family and their antics, with a tone equal parts fond and annoyed. He’d offer help whenever he could, punctuate sentences with big, dramatic gestures that never failed to make Patton laugh. When you got him on the subject of the human world, he’d light up in excitement and bubble over with questions. Even the time Patton had basically lectured him, Ro… listened. He took it seriously. It had been a long time since Patton felt heard, like that. 

And now, he found himself not at the market, but back at the river bank, waiting once again. The buzzing and chirping of little bugs echoed around him, blending in with the slow babbling of the creek. He twirled the small pouch he’d brought around his fingers. The metal clinked together.

He’d been surprised to discover Ro apparently was quite the jewelry enthusiast, or so his friend had said; he hardly wore any, at least near Patton. But, when he’d offered to bring Ro some, he’d been over the moon. Patton had never seen much difference personally, between fae and human jewelry, but he wouldn’t be the one to rain on Ro’s parade, especially when Ro seemed to be beyond excited.

It had all been his mother’s, the jewelry he’d brought. Patton remembered the sight of them on her wrists, hands, neck. Gold bangles, pearl necklaces, rings, gifts to her from his father from trips all around the world. A part of him hated the idea of trading them away but… it wasn’t as if he could’ve worn them. Ro would love them. He’d use them as they were meant to be used. Wouldn’t she want that?

He kept some of them stashed away anyway.

Patton tapped his feet on the ground and whirled the little bag around again — only to grimace when it hit his palm, hard. He curled up his fingers, wincing when that only made it worse. Patton had spent the whole day scrubbing away at the floors of the manor. His knees hurt a little, too, but it was nothing compared to his hands. The soap chafed his skin, and to touch anything after stung like nothing else. But… it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, it’d heal in no time. Patton took a deep breath, closing his eyes and tipping his head back.

He was… tired. He was so tired. In the daytime, during the entire week, he’d worked as if it had been late autumn, and his nightly visits to the market sure didn’t help. The Faerie… she had been on edge lately, he could feel it. Something had to be wrong. She shouldn’t have been this way smack in the middle of spring.

Patton steeled himself. It must be the fatigue getting to me, he thought, Or maybe it’s just nerves. There's no need to think of the worst.

A loud clattering sound drew him away from his thoughts, and he opened his eyes to find that Ro had staggered out of the trees and tripped over in the process. Patton stood and made his way over to meet him.

“…Hi,” Ro said, and his hair was all mussed up under his hood. He gave Patton a wobbly smile from down on the ground, and the sight of it was just so silly, the tension unraveled right from Patton’s shoulders. Patton snorted as he helped the other stand.

“Your friend, the raven,” he said, shaking his head in amusement. “He’s the one who handles the directions between the two of you, isn’t he?”

Ro pouted, dusting off his clothes, but Patton didn’t give him a second to huff before he was linking their arms together, and pulling him to the middle of the clearing.

Ro stumbled behind him. “Ah–,”

“I have something for you,” Patton said, in a sing-song voice, as he took a sharp turn to face Ro. He shook the little bag in front of him, smiling. “Bijouterie,” Patton dropped it in Ro’s hands. “It sure has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Ro rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the little twitch of his lip from Patton. He began to untie the bag. “I cannot fathom how you think you’re so funny…”

Patton grinned, lightly knocking on his shoulder. “Don’t try me, mister, I saw you hold back that laugh.”

Ro looked like he was about to counter that, but then he fully opened the bag and his eyes widened. Patton could nearly see the way they glittered at a glimpse of what was inside. Ro made to touch it, then sharply drew his hand away.

To Patton’s confusion, he instead reached into his coat’s pocket, and then pulled out what seemed to be a bundle of… cloth.

“Gloves?” Patton asked, watching as Ro slipped a pair of white, delicate gloves over his lithe fingers. The lace trimming sat perfectly on his wrist. “…There’s no need to worry, you know, I don’t think the jewelry’s iron.”

“Not pure iron, I imagine. But I’ve learnt from experience that there can still be traces of it, and while it might not burn, it still itches,” Ro said, stretching out his hand. Patton found his eyes following the movement absentmindedly. “And, well, I saw your hands and—”

“My hands?”

“They’re hurt,” Ro said simply. “I assumed it must’ve been the jewelry.”

…He’d noticed. Patton didn’t quite know what to say, or how to explain it. Would the truth be too suspicious, if he was vague?

“No... no, it’s not that,” Patton said with an awkward laugh. He scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve had a bit of a day, is all. Cleaning, scrubbing, things like that. They can be a little intensive sometimes. But you really don’t need to worry about the jewelry.”

Ro got uncharacteristically quiet, and he had that concerned look on his face that reminded Patton so much of Deceit. He slid the little bag into his pocket without another look at it, and before Patton could question it, Ro was nudging him to sit in a nearby tree stump.

“Wait here a moment,” Ro said, soft, and Patton couldn’t help but comply.

Ro neared the trees that circled the clearing, and stood on the tip of his toes. A high branch gracefully curled down to meet him, and Ro was able to snatch a few gray leaves off of it. Patton huffed out a laugh. Show-off.

With the leaves in tow, Ro made his way back over to Patton and knelt down in front of him, taking Patton’s hands. Suddenly, Patton understood.

“Oh! Oh, Ro, you don’t have to, it really doesn’t hurt all that much—”

Ro cocked his head to the side, letting his hair flow past the sharp contour of his jaw. He trailed the tip of his finger over the back of Patton's hand and smiled. “Let me?”

For whatever reason, Patton's heart skipped a beat. “O-okay…”

Ro placed the leaves inside Patton’s palm and closed his hands over them. He smoothed his thumb over Patton’s knuckles. The fabric of his gloves was cool and soft to the touch, and for a moment Patton’s mind lingered on how wonderful they felt on his skin. Ro hummed a lilting tune, shutting his eyes, and when he opened them back up, he blew over Patton’s hands. A soothing chill of magic went through him.

When Ro let go of him, he curled his fingers in and out. The leaves fell down to the ground. No pain.

“Woah.” Patton breathed.

“Impressed?”

“Now, no need to be smug,” Patton giggled, swinging his feet. “But um– I appreciate it. Really.”

Ro grinned at him and stood back up, bowing. His cloak swished with the motion. “It’s no trouble! After all, what sort of dashing hero would I be if I did not help those in need?”

Patton raised an eyebrow.

“Dashing hero?” he snickered. “Oh, you sound just like you’re from a fairy tale.”

“A fairy tale…?”

“Oh, um—” Patton said. He forgot the other wouldn’t know about them. “It’s what humans call their stories about enchantments, magic beings, and the like. Parents read them to their children, usually, sometimes there’s a lesson in them.”

“What an interesting name! I suppose it’s rather fitting, then. It sounds to me much like the tales we tell the younglings, although, naturally, magic is par for the course,” Ro shook his head, a dreamy look in his eyes. “You know, I’ve always been fond of them, even now. Maybe a little too much.”

“Oh, it’s the same for me,” Patton said, smiling. He glanced over the clearing, all midnight blue and glittering silver. “My mom… she used to sit with me in her armchair, and spin stories the whole afternoon. I loved each and every one. Some of them were a little grim, but she always ended them happily. It’s… a nice memory. I keep it close to my heart.”

Ro tilted his head, curious, but didn’t comment otherwise. Instead, he chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

“If I am to be honest, I think I much prefer those sorts of endings, however silly that is,” he said, “Ones where everything works out for the best. Things don’t often happen that way, I know, but… it’s nice to imagine that they could, if only for a moment. I’ve thought so ever since I was little. Oh, I was a nightmare for the storytellers, really, clamoring for more stories, running around the halls searching for my first quests as a gallant prince.”

Patton imagined little Ro doing just that — the thought of that same theatrical demeanor in a small child made him huff out a laugh. With a push against the tree stump, Patton stood and approached Ro, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think it’s silly at all,” Patton reassured him with a smile. “Although… if you’re a gallant knight, the dashing hero, what does that make me, hm?” He trailed his fingers down Ro’s shoulder to his upper arm coyly. “Your prince? Will you be my knight in shining armor, then, and save me?”

Ro took a step back, stammering, an adorable glow painted over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. Patton laughed — oh, he really was too easy to embarrass. Maybe it was a little mean of Patton, but he couldn’t help it when Ro just looked so cute when he was flustered. 

After they’d settled back down, Ro did end up checking out the jewelry, after all. As Patton had said, no iron, so Ro was even able to try them on right then and there. Patton helped him, pinning waves of his hair back with golden hair clips and stringing him up with bracelets and necklaces until he shimmered under the light and chimed with each step he took. They talked all the while, and Patton’s worries washed away with their words. He should be appalled at how much he’d lowered his guard but… around Ro, he felt as if he didn’t have to be afraid. And maybe it was foolish, but the only time he’d known this kind of comfort in fairyland was under the crawlspace, with his collection and his memories. 

And of course, he had Deceit, who cared for him and who was just as dear to Patton, but with Ro… it was different. They were friends, weren’t they? It hadn’t been that long since they’d met and Patton didn’t have much experience in that regard, but it sure already felt that way. Ro saw him, and not through him — that notion made him so happy it threatened to burst as sparks out of his chest. 

"Now, next time we do this I really will meet you at the market,” Patton said, as he helped unclip a necklace from Ro’s neck. They’d chatted for long, but the sky began to lighten, so it was about time they got ready to part. “I think setting you loose has only been a hazard to your own safety.”

Ro groaned. “You get lost once—”

“Twice,” Patton corrected him. “And while going to the same place, too. Don’t think I didn’t see all those leaves caught up in your clothes when you fell, quite literally, inside the clearing.”

Ro crossed his arms and huffed. Patton tapped on his wrist so he’d allow him to unfasten a bracelet next. 

He giggled. “Sorry, Ro, I’m only teasing.”

Ro rolled his eyes, and bared his wrist for Patton. “As if it’s my own fault I don’t know where things are in a forest I have never visited before a week ago. It’s not as if I’ve been exploring.”

As Patton untied the string and slid the bracelet off Ro’s arm, he realized something.

“You don’t know the forest.”

“Yes?”

He began to do the math in his head, of the months and the seasons — if he was right, oh, oh that’d be just perfect. Especially if Ro had never seen it before, he would love it.

“Ro, I want you to meet me at the market again, there’s something I need to show you,” he said. ���But! It has to be three days from now. Do you think you could do that?”

“I– Sure?”  Ro said, “Should I be worried?”

Patton beamed, excitement simmering under his skin.

“No, not at all.”

-

Song of the chapter: Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

[stxrry-dxys]

alright i wanted to elaborate a little bit on this post i made here. i’ve been dying to do a proper analysis on hero’s character, but before we start i would like to make some things clear: i do not hate any of the kids, and i do not think any of them are bad or irredeemable people. while i do not think all of their actions were good or justified, i do believe that they had every right o feel upset, hurt, or overwhelmed in the scenarios i am about to analyze. i just want to clarify because i don’t want it to sound like i’m here to dogpile on hero, aubrey, or kel specifically. they’re kids, they’re going to be bad at handling things, and while i am going to criticize some of their actions i do NOT think that they are horrible people by any means. now let’s get into why i think hero is not the perfect responsible boy sunny or the fandom has built him up to be.

hero and mari are the oldest children in a group of friends with not many solid parental figures. kel is a glass child, something hero is shown to be aware of when he runs to kel after their argument when he sees he’s being ignored. as well, their mom is shown to be slightly manipulative and guilt trippy in the game. and while i don’t think this necessarily means she’s abusive i do think saying things like “your mean old brothers don’t want anything to do with us” can create a lot of guilt and stress within a household, especially when their dad just kind of sighs and lightly tries to talk with her. aubrey is in an abusive and neglectful household with her mom, and her dad is implied to be a bit controlling (“my dad would never let me dye my hair”). basil lives alone with an ailing grandmother and parents who are never around. sunny’s only solo memories of his father are the tree chopping incident and him yelling about lost remotes so much that everytime you even click on a remote sunny says not to touch it because “it might get lost”. (im going to exclude sunny’s mom from this section as i feel there’s lots of different ways to interpret her dynamic with the kids and i swing back and forth on these myself).

but all this to say, hero and mari are sort of forced into this parental role for all these kids, while they’re only teenagers themselves. and while the younger ones obviously look up to and admire them, there’s only so much they can do, and both of them are subject to bias as well. this is where i think the idea of them being “so responsible!” kind of fails, though it’s more obvious with hero than with mari.

in headspace, pretty much the first thing hero does is scold kel and aubrey for fighting, a very, very consistent theme for his character. and yes, i am aware that headspace is not 1:1 with the real world, but i do think a lot of the character moments between the main four are based off real events that may have happened. so yeah, hero scolds kel and aubrey a lot, but he also fails at scolding them a lot. often he plays the mediator (“cut it out you two” or “you two are in trouble now”) and while it gets kel and aubrey to drop their current fight, it doesn’t stop another one from coming in the next five minutes. and this failure to prevent their fights and getting more and more annoyed with them throughout headspace’s run culminates in hero’s biggest mistake in how he handles the two of them, that if we’re to believe is based off events that did likely happen, bleeds into the current day fight between kel and aubrey as well.

during the humphrey section of two day’s left, the main four find a lone flower crown lying on the ground. they forgot don’t know who it belongs to, but it’s crumpled and dirty. aubrey debates taking it to return to its owner, and hero says it may not be in a condition where they even want it anymore. and then kel kicks it off the edge, sparking aubrey to yell at him. now kel is slightly in the wrong here, as the best thing to do would be to just not touch it instead of kicking it into the void. and aubrey being frustrated is understandable, but ultimately it’s not a super big deal as it’s not any of their property, so she’s not really in the right for picking a fight here either. however when kel goes to defend himself and say “well hero said no one would even want it any more anyways!” hero snaps. (“that’s enough! kel, apologize to aubrey.”) and this is the biggest issue with hero playing parent for the group, he’s biased.

hero grew up with kel, he’s his brother so he gets to be a little mean or snappy at him and have it all be fine later, and the inverse is true as well. but as much as hero may see aubrey as a little sister, he is not related to her, and he will not feel as comfortable scolding her as harshly as he does kel. so when he reaches his limit with their fighting and snaps, he doesn’t snap at aubrey, he snaps at kel and demands he put a stop to it, even if kel doesn’t really need to. see, kel is in the wrong in this situation, but not with aubrey. the flower crown belonged to someone else, not her. he owes an apology to the person who’s property he just destroyed, not her. and while she is allowed to be frustrated that he did that, she has no right to be completely upset with him (she goes on to pout and ignore him after he apologizes which is absolutely unjustified as it was not her crown, and to her knowledge she does not know who it belonged to). but hero is a teenager, he’s about 15 here and he’s so tired of these 12 year olds fighting, and he just wants it to stop, so he tells kel to apologize to aubrey, even if she’s not the one owed an apology. he’s scolding kel, yes, but not in the right way. and this is a mistake that i think sticks around.

and while no, we do not have proof that this definitively happened in the real world, it’s such a specific scenario for sunny to include, and one i’ve seen happen among my own siblings and my friends siblings, i absolutely believe something similar happened. and i do think this is where mari gets a slight advantage playing neutral in kel and aubrey’s fights, as she’d only really have the familiarity to snap that way at sunny (like she’s implied to do during concert rehearsals) so she gets to play middle ground with the other two more than hero does. but i did mention that i think this had an impact on the real world as well.

kel and aubrey’s biggest issue in the real world is this: aubrey feels abandoned by kel and kel feels betrayed by aubrey. and i want to clarify, i think they’re both a little right and a little wrong. aubrey is absolutely right to be upset that kel never reached out to her (especially when we know he reached out to sunny and hero), but she is not right to be upset with how he handled his grieving process after mari’s death (she notes that she was upset at how quickly he moved on, and to her credit she does acknowledge that this was wrong of her). kel is absolutely right to feel betrayed by aubrey picking fights with him, sunny and basil and being upset that she’s just kind of a bully towards them now (she and the hooligans are noted by kel to be trouble before you properly meet them, they write kel smells outside his house, she refuses to give basil’s photo album back after four years of begging and says herself that she calls him a freak and lets others do it too, she tries to kick them out of a public area in a public park oh my god this part really annoys me about the hooligans wtf was this plotline) (also side note: yes kel is allowed to be upset about her holding basil’s property hostage as he both knows who it belongs to, and has been asked to retrieve it by said person while he was on the brink of tears) but he is not right to keep throwing mari in her face as a moral one-up card, nor is he right to blame her for basil almost drowning when she accidentally pushed him in (she IMMEDIATELY declares it was an accident and is visibly worried about him even though she’s upset with him).

i think ultimately this fight spawns from two things, aubrey has been taught that she is owed an apology when she feels she’s been wronged, without looking at both sides. and kel is tired of always having to be the one to apologize first when he feels he’s not in the wrong, without looking at both sides. again, they’re both a little right and a little wrong for these perceptions. after all, it’s what hero taught them when he broke up their old fights. and even when he finds out about this one, his solution is still ineffective even all these years later. because instead of suggesting they talk it out, which is what would really help them reach an understanding of the other’s feelings, he calls it “another classic kel and aubrey fight” and says they “just need to hug it out”. and while i think he’s trying his best, this is absolutely not what they need. there is a lot of deep seated anger here and it even shows on their faces after he suggests this (kel looks away awkwardly and aubrey is on the brink of tears).

in fact, they don’t even really make up until after kel tells her they dug through the trash in order to save the photo album and they all look through it together. it’s through aubrey realizing that kel does in fact care about their memories together, and kel remembering that even after all this time aubrey still is the same sweet girl he knew, that they finally understand each other’s perspective a bit more. kel can see how hurt aubrey is and aubrey starts to understand that kel had his own way of processing mari’s death.

but even though hero was brought over to fix the situation, he ultimately ends up failing to help the two reconcile, they do it all on their own. because at the end of the day, hero is not a parent. he is a brother, a friend, and a teenager. kel and aubrey don’t know how to process their emotions or fights any more than he does, and he makes a lot of mistakes in the process. and i think this is where a lot of his guilt over mari’s death comes from, and basil’s too in the neutral ending. he was supposed to be the responsible one, the parental one, the perfect balance. but he couldn’t be there for mari and basil, he couldn’t even be there for kel and aubrey. and while that is not his fault, and should never have been his responsibility, he is always going to hold that against himself, he is always going to see himself as a failure.

truth be told, he shouldn’t have been put in a position to believe that in the first place. he should have just been allowed to be a dumb teenager who makes mistakes and doesn’t have to take care of everyone around him. and that’s what i find so fascinating about hero’s character. he is a dumb teenager who makes mistakes, just one that was put on a pedestal and parentified, expected to take care of everyone and everything, when for a whole year he couldn’t even take care of himself. he’s bad at being responsible, and i wish he would’ve been told that’s okay, because it is.

tagging the person who asked to be notified about this post ( @skyisepic ) i’d also love to hear everyone’s thoughts on this analysis, if you have anything to add or if you feel i went too harsh on anyone throughout this please let me know!!

[finnattack26]

Feel The Beat

Feel The Beat

Solace grumbles to himself as he scrubs at a beer stain on the bar harshly. The guests had been particularly difficult tonight and with no other staff to assist, he had been left to sort out the barrels, clean the hotel rooms, and then clean the bar. He was already exhausted and his charge hadn’t even dropped to sixty percent yet. Stars, he couldn’t wait until you were back from your two week holiday – you were always so willing to help to the point he had to force you to go to bed sometimes. Not only were you the kindest guest he had, but also the cleanest. The most your bedroom needed was a quick window clean because you insisted on doing everything else yourself.

Finally, the mark was gone. Sighing in relief, he found his gaze flicking to the song machine he had seen guests use so many times before. He never could take the time to listen to the music himself – the bar was always too loud to hear anything but the constant chatter of guests – but he did remember many of the guests complaining about the music being ‘old school’, whatever that meant. Humming to himself, he turned his head to survey the emptiness of the room before hesitantly approaching the machine. Playing one song wouldn’t hurt, right?

Unfortunately, nothing was ever easy. He squints his eyes at the coin slot, irritation bubbling within his code at the notion he would have to hunt for a quid before he could even begin to think about listening to anything. Giving up on filling the silence, he sulks back back to the bar and takes a seat before burying his face into his arms with another sigh. The network had been quiet all day since you had left, meaning no game nights had been planned. The most activity the network got nowadays was Venus’ involuntary updates on maintenance issues he had addressed or Freyr informing them he had dealt with another rude customer.

He knows he should be sleeping. It was one am after all and his battery tended to drain quicker during the night – the downside to being a sun model. But until he managed to fill the awful silence that he seemed to be drowning in, his recharge would not be satisfactory and he would wake up in a foul mood. Which in turn could possibly lead to him snapping at yet another customer (he had gotten quite the scolding from Sulliven the last time he snapped at a customer who was getting a little too comfortable with disrespecting another patron’s boundaries). The memory alone increased the irritation in his chest and he groans in frustration.

The sudden bang of the hotel doors ricocheting off the walls is what finally makes him snap and he spins to pin the figure with a dark glare, “are you a bull in a china shop? Open the doors gently for star’s sake! Gently!”

Freyr blinks, “I apologise…are you feeling alri–”

“I’m perfect, thank you!” Solace snaps back, burying his head into his arms again in an effort to hide the orange on his cheeks. Great job, Sol, insulting the security bot of all animatronics was a brilliant idea, wasn’t it? The one animatronic that simply despised his existence and for what it stood for. 

The hotel is silent for a moment and then Solace hears the scrape of a bar stool and mechanical clicks as Freyr settles onto the seat beside him. He tenses, awaiting Freyr’s usual harsh quips and insults, quickly growing confused when neither comes. Hesitantly, he lifts his head and finds the security bot already staring at him and mutters, “what? No insults today?”

“I fear you will dismantle me if I even move wrong.” He admits with a strained smile. “What is troubling you?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

“It doesn’t. The mechanic asked me to play nice and check up on you until he returned.”

Solace blanks, his code warming at the idea of you worrying about him. Quickly distracting himself from that thought and disengaging his loud fans, he sighs and gestures with his head to the song machine, “the guests weren’t being pleasant and the silence was beginning to annoy me. I wanted to put on music–”

“I assume you’re aware it requires money–”

“Yes, Freyr, I am now aware of that.” He seethes through gritted teeth, “why do you think I snapped at you without even realising who I was talking to?”

The bot stares at him and Solace sighs, massaging his forehead and turning his gaze to the bar, “I apologise for my short temper but you have done what the mechanic has asked you to do. If you don’t mind, I would like to be alone.”

Another silence that stretches on for approximately forty seconds and then he catches Freyr standing from his seat and grimaces. He would have to apologise at some point – this behaviour was unbecoming of someone programmed to be a caretaker, after all. Solace had worked in a high stress environment before with very limited bad days but for some reason these entitled guests just brought out the worst side in him. Maybe he should close the hotel for a day…Sullivan probably wouldn’t agree with such a decision though, and it wasn’t like he had an excuse he could rely on. 

There’s an awful screech of static and Solace leaps to his feet, eyes roaming the room for the source of the noise. They first land on the machine, and then to Freyr who’s holding a multitude of wires in his right hand and he rushes over, “what on Earth are you doing?”

Freyr doesn’t reply and one by one, reconnects the wires while Solace watches in confusion. After a moment, the security bot closes the panel and stands, his finger sliding across the screen before he finds the song he was looking for. He ignores the blue eyes staring into his back and presses play, tilting his faceplate to look up at the nearest speaker.

He’s drivin’ a jeep

But he ain’t in the Army

Gets all his cigarette money

From his mommy

Solace tilts his head, disbelief written across his face as he turns to Freyr who leans against the machine with his arms and ankles crossed, “did you change it so it didn’t need money?”

The bot shrugs, “for now. I’ll come back before the bar is due to open and fix it so Sullivan doesn’t notice the loss in profit.”

He wanna be Americano,

Americano, Americano 

He wants to drive a Cadillac

Now he’s chasing showgirls 

He looks back up at the speakers and wriggles his fingers as his shoulders relax. The change in atmosphere had definitely helped his sour mood. Sighing, he goes to thank Freyr but finds a black and orange hand in front of him, palm faced upwards. He directs a confused look at him and Freyr grins sharply, “I promised the mechanic to help. You are still tense, and I can provide a way for you to break loose and have some fun~”

Solace squints at the phrasing but takes the hand nonetheless, eyes widening in surprise as he’s tugged close to the other bot. His unoccupied hand automatically finds purchase on Freyr’s left shoulder and just as he goes to move it, the bot steps back and uses the hand he’s holding to spin him. Startled, the sun model stumbles for a second and then frowns, “wait, I don’t know how to–”

He rolls his eyes, “just let loose, feel the beat. Your body already knows what to do.”

Grumbling to himself, he struggles to copy Freyr as he swings his hips in time with the music. Occasionally, he’s pulled close to the bot only to be spun outwards again (a move he manages to figure out without stumbling). Copying moves doesn’t feel right, he eventually realises, and he begins to let his body move to the music. Some programs he hadn’t even realised were still active make their appearance, and dancing is suddenly something he lives and not just knows. He stops in his dancing to let the protocols run. Puzzled at his sudden stillness, the security bot pauses before he spun the bot again, and simply sways.

–Brother if you’re too slow

You’d better not blink

Or you’ll wind up in the drink

Wanna be Americano,

Americano, Americano

Wait for it, he thinks, keeping his eyes locked on Freyr’s. The other is completely confused and Solace allows himself to take delight in the uncommon expression as he lets the new protocols merge with his code. 

Gotta buy a diamond ring,

‘Cause that’s his baby’s 

favourite thing

Okay, all right, yeah man

Wanna be American

Wanna be American

Now’s his chance. His feet tap with purpose against the ground and he pulls off a couple of spins, simply losing himself in the music as the chorus ends. It’s as if he has been doing it all his life with the way his body moved to the song, and soon enough he’s made his way over to Freyr without missing a beat. He doesn’t miss the impressed expression on the other’s face as he successfully pulls off a shuffle of some kind – the name he doesn’t care to remember in his fun as he drags Freyr over to stand at his side. The song cuts off and as another starts, they share a look of undefined meaning. 

Oooo, let’s go baby

Spin me spin me dizzy dizzy

A delighted grin crosses Solace’s expression and he shuffles, slowing only to let Freyr analyse his moves before returning to the same speed. He looks down at his feet as they move at a ridiculous pace and throws his head back to let out a laugh, all tension draining from his body. He glances to his right and sees Freyr pulling off a shuffle, somehow managing to incorporate it into his own dance style. Even as he stumbles, the low chuckle emanating from him doesn’t dwindle in volume – clearly he was just as lost in the song as Solace was.

Maybe they both needed the music, after all. 

Decided to try my shot at writing a dance scene. I've always wanted to write one lmao. Whether I've done it well or not is a question you lot will have to answer for me. Hope you enjoyed it, I'll probably post stuff similar to this in between the main updates for the fanfic. The links for the songs and my fanfic are below!

[asta-rology]

QUEEN CARD ୨୧ —· · the angry red god ! ei/reader

w/c –· 595

a/n –· small ei angst drabble, KIND OF FAST-PACED?? A LITTLE BAD SINCE IM WRITING IN THIS SORT OF NEW STYLE😞😞 editing soon dw bebiceyks /* tas hnd inedit/*

the sky was tar-black and the large clouds were moving towards me. i heard a faint tapping and then it became a pitter-patter. people ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier.

the tenebrous storm covered the clouds— you looked up at the bleak sky, knowing well that this will not go away anytime soon.

Thunder roared like the ocean when in strength and breadth and length it sets to shore— her bloodcurdling cries could be heard even from here.

people could ask, "what happened?,, " why is this happening?!,, but only have the dark storm clouds answer them.

you could answer their questions easily— ,,what happened with the shogunate?" ,,why is this happening so suddenly?" you know it, don't you?

you know, that not too long ago.. you were at a simple picnic. a nice meet up for old friends— sitting under a sakura tree, with everyone gathered around on top of a warm picnic blanket.

everyone was talking cheerily, without a single care for the world outside their own, imaginary one.

but was that really what happened? is your memory still hazy from back then?

oh.

wait,

you remember now, right?

the thunders cried as loudly, wishing for her to come back— inazuma was flooded of the cloud's tears, as she cried and cried for her return. but she never did— all that was left was a blood-stained kimono.

of course, you comforted her— let her cry all she wanted, even if it got your sleeves all wet.

you were the only one standing— the only person she had to cry to, and the only person remaining that had her full trust.

you understood her troubles., what she had went through when everyone else died— the pain and agony of having to see them slain by your own hand..

but as you were thinking back to that scenario, the rain got heavier, and the storm clouds cracked multiple lightning strikes— as if the lightning was a child, punching their pillow out of anger— you quickly came to the storm's aid, running to the shogunate,

,,stop it, isn't it already enough?!"

you wanted her to stop— the citizens are hurting— but there was no stopping her in this angry state.

as you stood before the red god, with her eyes glowering to your figure, as she pointed her sword to you— ,,you.. you don't have a right to be here." she muttered, pointing the sword directly to your neck while you stared directly at her with a hopeless look, ,,why are you here?"

silence.

it was deafening— you can't mutter up any words.."leave.,, she ordered, squinting her eyes at you, as if she wanted to threaten you. ,,just go, please don't make me hurt you." she commanded, almost desperately— just leave the shogunate alone..

before you knew it, you were dragged out by her guards— you just knew this was the end. she loved you, and you loved her back, but she has to isolate herself, fearing that she will only lose interest and hurt you like she did with the rest.

the flower signifying your friendship wilted away, it's once beautiful, purple petals were turned into a dark-red nothingness— falling on the ground as we speak.

you are only mere strangers at the end of the day,,just strangers with memories.

once the storm clears up, your mind and body will clear, too. just be patient for it.

pota tinitry q na nga sumulat ng mas maganda parang ung 1st post q pero nagfflop pa👿👿

[lyssiesleakedmemos]

My first mmf threesome (Walter & Cullen)

Real life 🌶

It was in the years of seemingly endless firsts, maybe too many for any 19 year old girl to experience without losing her mind and weaving life-long fixations into her core.

I felt the first taste of intoxicating freedom, and I did so alongside the most unusual characters. My bf Walter was a walking contradiction in every sense. All American boy who would channel gg Allen if there was a full moon.. The unappreciated nice one of the group who was secretly more vicious than the crowd combined. The less desirable "fat one" who would teach you that he only needed the attention of 2 women to be a relentless heartbreaker. But I was every bit as toxic. In those days, I was a bleach blonde wannabe porn star who was addicted to attention and lived for drama. When he betrayed me, I'd return the favor. If i showed him crazy, he'd show me a medical emergency. I often wondered how we ever were a couple when we both seemed so self consumed that it couldn't have left room for love in any meaningful way. It took a mutual friend to theorize we both unknowingly used each other to experiment at a time where we were young and figuring everything out and that perhaps we needed that.. it eased the discomfort of the blood-stained memories.

And experiment we did for all we lacked in chemistry we made up for in the bedroom, living room, and public pools. There is nothing he wouldn't try at the drop of a hat, and most everything he ever did, he did well. Sex, blood, and rock n roll were a way of life, and I regret to this day never appreciating it for what it was.

Let's revisit toxic. Enter Walter's best friend Cullen. The one I was in love with. Now, before anyone passes judgement, I wasn't knowingly being deceptive, wasn't emotionally cheating, I was, however, deeply in denial. I gave every excuse in the book for why I hung on his every word and got lost in his eyes. He was attractive if you liked slightly older grunge guys in bands who looked the part. Remembering him as a "big deal" in the halls of HS did make me feel some sort of way now sitting in his garage drinking till the sun came up. That made it easy to hold on to denial.. I just "felt cool, and he's nice to look at" Id protest. If only I knew then how many attractive men of status I'd go on to leave unread.. I would have known the real trouble I was in.

It was him. Something mostly indescribable in the way he spoke to me. The way his kind words seemed to be carved out of this brooding cold shell from a warm secret place and his cruel ones always felt like a challenge I could take. When we argued, it felt like looking in a mirror. I knew we'd be a nightmare together but it didn't stop me from picturing us like an 2000s rock music video, fucking and fighting. My mascara running while he smashes a bottle. There was something about him that had a hold on me.

So when I found myself between them after everyone else left the party liquor still blurring reality, would you blame me for not thinking of the consequences of tomorrow? Would you blame me for not thinking of the angel on earth who was Cullens GF?

*You should blame me, of course. I did and promptly confessed in the weeks following. I was given more understanding than I was worth, but I paid in the end for being so selfish.*

I sat torn and tingling between them after Cullen brought up the idea of the 3 of us having a little fun. I was so caught off guard by the suggestion that i thought it might be a joke that went on a bit too long. He never indicated any interest prior to this moment, but now he was shamelessly begging to experience me. I protested multiple times, but I knew the temptation was in the inflection of my voice and written on my face. I wanted it. They each put a hand on my thighs, sliding them higher, watching with satisfaction as my defenses crumbled. "Come on, it'll be fun" Of course it fucking would be. They toyed with me until I was trembling, I stood no chance in this game.

Briefly, I thought I escaped their grasp, Walter had to run downstairs, but before I could sigh in relief, I was face to face with Cullen on the sofa.  The look in his eyes, he cornered his prey. "So if I kissed you right now.. you wouldn't kiss me back?" Despite my heart racing, I managed to muster "why don't you try and see?"

He did not hesitate grabbing the side of my face and pulling it towards his, he won, but rather than devouring me, he kissed me with agonizing passion. His tongue tangled in mine and sent chills down my body. I could have kissed him for hours. That kiss ruined me forever.

It was over too soon, pulling away to greet Walter, who was now standing in the doorway. I was ready to negotiate, I mean, essentially, he walked in on me kissing his best friend, and it didn't feel right to not include him in the fun.. right?

"Okay.. but not all the way, " I asserted as if I could get away with a moral misdemeanor and avoid the felony charge.

They didn't argue leading me to Walter's bed in the dimly lit room I knew all too well. I laid myself down in the middle, aching to be preyed upon, Cullen wasted no time asking Walter's permission to taste me. It was dark, but attentively I watched him disappear between my thighs. The man who always seemed "above it" and disinterested in everything became a desperate frenzy of tongue and fingers between MY thighs. It wasn't enough anymore. By the time he emerged, I was ready for him, I let him slide himself inside me, thrusting while he kissed me, and my fingers got lost in his hair. Fuck how many times did i picture running my fingers through his hair? Now I lay under the weight of him buried inside me living out my wildest fantasies.

Now Walter was ready and I braced myself for the rougher fucking I was used to he flipped me over and shoved his cock into me while Cullen put his in my face, I was noticeably louder and through my gasps and pants I managed to get Cullen in my mouth. The challenge of trying to keep sucking while being pounded from behind thrilled me. I watched Cullen intently, "don't you love her tongue rings?" Walter boasted. "Fuck, I do now." Was all he managed to say.

Eventually, they couldn't resist marking "effiel tower" off their bucket list, realizing the opportunity bent over between them, high fiving over me. "Oh God" I muttered only for Walter to order me to "shut the fuck up and suck his dick." So I did, those words in that domineering tone flipped a switch in me forever. Walter had the power, Cullen had the passion and I was a merely a quivering puddle between them.

They took turns cumming on me and I loved the feeling, the filth in that moment of being used, enjoyed and discarded. Paired with the very different feeling.. a bond that formed from being a first we all shared together that night, like criminals decompressing in the safe house after the heist. We gathered on the couch to watch... oh who the fuck cares until daylight crept through the windows. Oh, how I despised the sun.

That not where the story ends.

That's not where these characters die off especially not Cullen.. no, those stories lead right back to the present day.

I said I'd never tell them, but he said a lot of things too.

So I ask you? Can you keep a secret?