#also these two are inspiration for later but dang man

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

The Holy Relics

Note: requested by @synintheraven! I'm guessing this is not what you had in mind, but this is where my inspiration took me. I had a blast writing this and hope you'll enjoy reading it!

Warnings: fluff, bad comedy and some misogyny.

pairing: Detective!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: being a female detective in the '80s isn't easy, and your new partner didn't make it any easier either.

wordcount: 4,4k 

Masterlist

If the man in front of you would open his mouth one more time you were probably going to explode. It was a Monday morning and you were at your favourite coffee spot, scoring a drink before heading into the station to work on a new case. It was busy, as per usual, as everyone needed their caffeine fix and there seemed to be a new barista at work, for the line was growing longer behind you and barely moving in front of you. You had been waiting at least ten minutes already and, yes, you were annoyed too. But you understood that everyone has to learn a new skill at some point, so you waited patiently for the stressed out looking barista to complete the orders of the people ahead of you. However, not everyone was as understanding as you were.

'Fucking hell,' a young student behind you sighed, and she left the line not much later.

You watched her run out of the coffee shop and to the bus stop across the street, where she managed to hop on the bus just before it departed. The man in front of you had been compulsively checking his watch and kept muttering under his breath, and it annoyed you greatly, just like the old hag who was behind you now also started to mumble her complaints.

'Can't you hurry up?' the man in front of you raised his voice, 'I have a job to go to!'

'I- I'm sorry,' the barista stammered, his cheeks turning crimson while he desperately tried to not drop two full cups.

'Be patient, sir. We all have a job to go to,' you sighed.

The man turned to face you, looked you up and down with disgust and then scoffed.

'We all have a job to go to,' he mocked you and made a face, then turned his back to you again.

'Wow,' you chuckled at him, then mumbled, 'someone's a man child.'

'Who gave you permission to leave your kitchen?' the man mumbled back over his shoulder and checked his watch again.

'Sexist asshole,' you scoffed, and you both huffed at each other.

'How much longer will this take?' the old lady behind you questioned.

'If you're all going to keep adding pressure on that poor guy, it will take even longer,' you snapped at her, and the old lady figured you were right and mumbled an apology.

'Some people just aren't fit for their jobs,' the man child retorted.

'Oh, and what is your job then that you are so perfect for?' you hissed.

'None of your fucking business.'

'Watch your language, young man,' the old lady sounded from behind you.

Before you could speak again the line suddenly moved as another barista was called in for help. And before you knew it you were paying for your coffee while the man child added some extra sugar in his. He glared at you before he rushed out of the shop, and the old lady who was behind you wished you a nice day, which took you by surprise but also reminded you that not everyone is as rude as they may seem. You jumped in your car and made your way to the station, making it in time just barely and clocking in only a minute before your shift started. You greeted your detective colleagues and made haste to the already empty briefing room where you only saw your Captain. Your day hadn't been off to the best start, and it got worse when you heard that your usual detective partner, Ragnar, had been abruptly transferred to a different city and you were immediately introduced to his replacement.

'This is detective Kjartansson,' Captain Beocca smiled proudly as he introduced the newest addition to his team who stepped through the door, 'Sihtric here will be your new partner.'

Your eyes widened and anger began to boil inside of you, your hands itching while your heart rate became dangerously high.

'You've got to be fucking kidding me,' you scoffed and stared at the new detective, who looked just as surprised as you. 'Oh no, absolutely not,' you shook your head and looked at Beocca, 'I'm not working with this guy.'

'But he's one of the best in the business,' Beocca said, dumbfounded at your reaction, 'the contracts have been signed, you two will have to work together,' he shrugged and pushed a pile of case files in your hands, then quickly left the briefing room.

'Unbelievable,' you muttered and looked at the man child you had argued with at the coffee shop, who had apparently been in a rush because it was his first day at your station.

'Yeah, well, tell me about it,' Sihtric rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.

You stared at each other with a heated passion, and you wanted to claw his mismatched eyes out when he looked you up and down again and you remembered his sexist remark. You gave him a disgusted face and pinned the case files against his chest, forcing him to clumsily get a hold of the paperwork before it would fall and scatter over the floor.

'I hope you are fit for your job, you pig,' you hissed and turned on your heels.

You studied Sihtric as you sat across the table from him. You couldn't deny he was handsome, with his slightly scarred face and his long dark hair, which was braided on top and you were jealous of the curls he had in the back. His goatee and moustache were well kept and the tattoo in his neck on those on his fingers were attractive. He was wearing black jeans and a black blouse with a red tie, which was an odd combination with the rugged looking black leather jacket he wore on top. Sihtric earned a lot of smiles from the ladies who stopped by the donut shop you were in, if only they knew how rude he could be. You were glad that you weren't dressed as obvious detectives, because reading through case files in a donut shop was an awful cliché, and you had argued against going there. But Sihtric was stubborn and hungry, so there was no point in trying to change his mind. You watched him judgingly as he stuffed his mouth with one donut after the other, leaving sticky fingerprints all over the paperwork and your hands began to itch again at how reckless and careless he seemed to be.

'So,' he said, barely audible because his mouth was full, 'this stolen relic is one of many?'

'Yes,' you tried to keep your cool, 'churches are being targeted for their holy relics. Once stolen they seem to just vanish. We haven't found any of them back so far, this is just another one to add to the list. Usually this is a case for the local cops, but more and more relics have gone missing, whoever is behind it is not sticking to one town anymore.'

'What do you think happens with the relics?'

'Only God knows,' you shrugged.

'Have you asked him?'

'Asked who?'

'God,' Sihtric snorted, proud of his joke.

You glared at the detective with his stupid grin, your face completely emotionless, and soon Sihtric's amusement faded away too. You refused to respond to his stupidity and told him that you think the relics might either be destroyed by non-believers or simply sold, as they are worth good money. Sihtric agreed those reasons seemed logical, and he licked his donut-glazed fingers clean before leaving to pay a visit to the most recently targeted church.

'They just… they… they took the arm,' Osferth stammered, still completely in shock from his find a few days ago.

The poor monk had entered his church and found the coffin of Saint Cuthbert vandalised. To his horror he discovered that the recently preserved body of the Saint had been damaged, and his arm had been taken.

'Just the arm?' you frowned, 'why just the arm?'

'I truly don't know, detective,' Osferth fought his tears, 'only God knows.'

Sihtric exhaled sharply next to you and you saw a grin tugging at his lips. You elbowed him as a warning to not ask poor Osferth if he had "asked God".

'Perhaps the whole body was just too impractical,' you guessed, 'or they got disturbed. You really didn't see or hear anything when you arrived here?'

'No, nothing,' Osferth said sadly, 'it looked planned to me. Like they only wanted the arm, maybe because it still had rings on the fingers perhaps,' he looked suddenly panicked.

'We'll try everything to return the bones to this church,' you tried to calm Osferth.

'Thank you, detective. God bless you.'

The young monk let out a soft sob and made the sign of the cross as Sihtric took out his little notepad.

'So,' Sihtric cleared his throat and clicked his pen, 'the arm, what did it look like?'

You and Osferth looked up at Sihtric, with a puzzled look on both your faces.

'Well… it's… it's an arm, detective,' Osferth said slowly, 'it's… it's bones.'

'Right,' Sihtric said, then tucked away his notepad and sniffed, realising how dumb his question had been but too proud to openly acknowledge his stupidity.

You and Osferth watched your partner awkwardly look around the church, then you quickly thanked Osferth for his time and left the holy building. You got back into the car, seated next to Sihtric in the passenger seat as he insisted that he was a better driver because he was a man, and you began to laugh.

'What's so funny?' Sihtric frowned.

'What did the arm look like?' you mocked him, 'you idiot.'

'Shut up,' Sihtric huffed and started the car.

A few days later an anonymous tip had gotten in about a church which might be the next target. You and Sihtric were to stake out at the building at night, keeping an eye out for any suspicious activity. Since you were undercover, and because the stake out may last all night, you were both dressed rather comfortably in jeans and a hoodie, no weapons. You and Sihtric didn't speak much while you sat in the car as he was making a crossword to keep himself entertained, but whenever you did communicate you only bickered. You still wanted Sihtric to apologise for his sexist comment in the coffee shop, while he kept pushing that he wanted to get out of the car and go inside the church to look around.

'Don't do it,' you argued against his plan, 'we're not carrying any weapons, we shouldn't venture inside right now, not knowing who or how many people we might find.'

'I get it,' Sihtric sighed and looked at you, his mismatched eyes lit up by a ray of silver moon light, 'you're scared.'

'Scared? What should I be scared of?'

'It's okay,' he smiled sweetly, 'but there's nothing to be afraid of. Even if there is anyone inside right now, I'll protect you,' he winked and flexed his biceps.

'What the fuck,' you whispered, bewildered, 'I'm not fucking scared, Sihtric! I'm being smart! You can't just go and look for people when we don't even know who we're looking for!'

'Look,' Sihtric sighed, 'I'm not going to ask you to do something you're clearly afraid to do. You can stay in the car and I'll go and have a look on my own.'

'Absolutely not!' you barked and grabbed his arm when he attempted to open the car door, 'we are not going in there!'

'Fine!' Sihtric growled and shook your hand off his arm, 'we won't go inside, but at least let me take a look if there is any activity in the graveyard behind the church.'

'The graveyard is closed.'

'And?'

'And? It means we'd have to climb the walls to get in! That's… that's a felony.'

'Yeah,' Sihtric scoffed, 'that's exactly what criminals do, so we should check it out.'

You groaned and figured it was impossible to argue with this guy, so you followed him reluctantly towards the secluded graveyard. Once you reached the walls that shielded the resting place from the outside world, Sihtric couldn't deny that they had seemed lower from a distance and he agreed there was no way he could climb over them. But he then remembered he had seen a large ladder next to the church entrance, and he ran towards the spot. Not much later he came back, carrying an old wooden ladder which looked as if it was rotting, and he placed it against the wall.

'Eh,' you said nervously, 'this ladder looks like it hasn't been used in ages. I don't think this is a good idea, you might fall and get hurt-'

'Darling,' Sihtric said sternly and placed one finger against your lips to silence you, 'I really appreciate your concern about my wellbeing, but I will be fine.'

'I just really think you shouldn't-,' you stopped talking when Sihtric ignored you and began to climb the ladder.

You stood back, watching with your hands on your hips. The ladder made several creaking noises as Sihtric continued to climb higher, and you gasped while he held his breath when he suddenly broke one wooden step. He clung onto the ladder, his heart beating out of his chest, and you both watched the rotten piece of wood fall down.

'See!' you hissed, 'stop climbing! Just get back here!'

'It's only like two more steps and then I can look over the wall,' Sihtric argued, 'I'm not giving up now, so just shut up and let me do this!'

'Sihtric!' you yelled with a whisper, 'you are such a little sh-' you were hushed by the loud sound of snapping wood, and before you could blink you heard a heavy thump and saw Sihtric with his back on the grass in front of you, and he groaned.

'Holy shit!' you gasped and crouched down next to him, 'see! I fucking told you!'

'Yeah, I'm fine, thanks for asking!' he snarled and tried to push himself up, but hissed in pain and reached for his right arm as he did.

'Sure, fine my ass,' you grumbled, 'pretty sure you broke something, we better get you to a hospital. Nice one!'

Sihtric kept telling you he was fine and managed to stumble to the car, but when he moaned in agony as he tried to open the car door you pushed him towards the passenger side and drove him to the nearest hospital. In the hospital you got proven right, because Sihtric had broken his arm and it was to be placed in a cast.

'Well,' you said as you both looked at the x-ray photo of his broken bone, 'at least now you'll have a clear idea of what that stolen arm should look like.'

A few weeks had passed and you finally got a lead on the stolen relics. All traces seemed to lead back to a guy named Aethelhelm, and you were staking out again at a different church this time, hoping to catch him.

'I just don't get it,' Sihtric mumbled as he watched the church, 'why would someone who works for the church steal those things?'

'Because they are worth a lot of money,' you sighed.

'But doesn't it go against their beliefs?'

'I guess. But this guy is a wolf in sheep's clothing. The more relics he has, the more he can sell, the more money he will get and that will give him more power.'

'I guess that makes sense,' Sihtric agreed.

'Maybe you should've fallen on your head,' you snickered and poked the cast around his broken arm, 'it might've knocked some sense into you.'

'What exactly is your problem with me?' Sihtric suddenly snapped.

You scoffed, refusing to answer. You were convinced Sihtric knew you didn't like him very much because of that first impression at the coffee shop. Sure, he wasn't all that bad once you got to know him better, but first impressions always last. And he simply wasn't the brightest sometimes, which annoyed you as well. Sihtric wasn't as serious as you while on the job, and you often struggled with his jokes and playful nature.

'I don't have a problem with you,' you muttered.

'You clearly do, lady.'

'You clearly have a problem with me,' you hissed, 'so what is it? Do you have a crush on me or something?'

'Excuse me?' Sihtric spat, 'oh, I see… so that's your problem.'

'What?'

'You,' he grinned, 'you have a crush on me.'

'No I don't!'

'You totally do, I can see you're blushing.'

'Shut up!' you huffed.

'Oh, you so wanna kiss me,' Sihtric laughed, 'don't lie.'

'I don't!

'You do.'

'I really don't,' you gritted your teeth.

'Why not?'

'Because why would I?!' you yelled and threw your hands up.

'You're just afraid,' Sihtric taunted.

'What? Afraid to catch a disease?' you gave him a disgusted look, 'yeah, I am afraid.'

'No,' he squinted his eyes and leaned in, 'you're afraid you'll like it.'

'Oh, please,' you scowled, 'as if you'd be that good.'

'I might be.'

'I doubt it.'

'You know you wanna find out,' Sihtric smiled slyly and winked.

'Will you shut the fuck up if we'd kiss?'

'Maybe.'

You stared at Sihtric, your eyes were burning and your jaw clenched tightly. He knew how to grind your gears and it irritated you beyond words. You just wanted to do your job, but this man kept being a nuisance and distracting you from what's actually important right now. 

'Fine,' you sighed, as if nothing suddenly mattered anymore, 'let's get this over then.'

You grabbed onto Sihtric's leather jacket and pulled him towards you, your lips crashed into each other and awkwardly locked for a few long seconds. Then Sihtric moved his cast-free arm and brought his hand up to your face, cupping your cheek. He pulled away just enough to capture your lips more gently, and it allowed him to deepen the kiss with ease, his tongue stroking slowly and sensually against yours, making your knees weak and your head empty for a moment. Your hands seemed to have a life of their own, as they roamed up towards his neck, and then your fingers were suddenly tangled in his curls. His facial hair pricked pleasantly against your face with each movement Sihtric made, and you slowly became oblivious to your surroundings. You only heard the blood rush in your ears and the sound of his slow and heavy breaths along with the sounds of your lips and tongues. You felt your heartbeat in your throat and a warmth slowly spread through your entire body when you felt his hand move up to the back of your neck. You grabbed his face with one hand while you tugged his hair with the other, earning a soft, deep moan from Sihtric which was followed by a chuckle as he slowly broke the kiss, giving you a few more open mouthed pecks and strokes of his tongue against yours before he pulled away slightly and looked at you.

'Not so snappy anymore now, are you?' he murmured against your lips.

'You're the worst detective I ever worked with,' you breathed.

'Oh, yeah?' Sihtric smiled against your lips, then sucked your lower lip and gave you another soft peck, 'as are you.'

'Do you ever shut the hell up?' you mumbled, lightheaded.

'You know… you can't talk to a detective like that,' he said softly, lips still touching, 'someone needs to take care of that attitude of yours.'

'Yes, detective,' you whispered and smiled, to which Sihtric hummed and pulled you in for another long kiss.

You had only wanted him to shut up. Yes, maybe you thought he was pretty hot too and the kiss was great, but you would never give him the satisfaction of telling him that he was indeed a good kisser. When you started to come back to your senses again you abruptly pulled away, remembering you were on a stake out, and you wiped your lips with the sleeve of your hoodie while Sihtric sat back and wiped his mouth with his hand before he looked at the church again.

'Well,' you said nonchalantly, 'I guess it was okay,' you lied, the colour of your cheeks and your dazed eyes betraying your true feelings.

If only Sihtric wasn't as pleasantly overwhelmed as you were, he would've noticed you struggled to compose yourself again, indicating that you absolutely downplayed the effect the kiss actually had on you, but his cheeks had slightly reddened too and he wouldn't let you see it.

'Anyway,' you cleared your throat, 'we… we should call it a night. We've been here for hours and there hasn't been any activity-'

'Wait a minute,' Sihtric interrupted, 'there was a black van parked near the church for as long as we've been here. And it's… it's gone.'

'So how exactly did you two manage to miss out on the only moving vehicle in hours?!' Beocca asked, his face reddened with anger while he paced back and forth in his office.

'Well… we… I don't know,' you mumbled.

You and Sihtric had agreed that there was no way you were going to tell Beocca that you could've caught Aethelhelm in the act if you hadn't been sticking your tongues down each other's throat during the stake out the night before.

'We're sorry,' Sihtric added a mumble of his own.

'This is just… it's unbelievable!' Beocca yelled, 'I have no other choice than taking you two off the case. This is just ridiculous! Staking out for hours and somehow missing-' he paused in an attempt to calm his anger, 'Detectives Finan and Uhtred will take over the case, they've been looking into the other stolen relics already and have made better progress!'

'No, please!' you tried, but to no avail as Beocca continued his outburst.

'And you two will be sorting old files in the basement for the next few weeks! You imbeciles!' he snarled and left his office.

'This is all your fucking fault,' you punched Sihtric's casted arm, and he groaned.

Not much later you and Sihtric were going through piles of old dusty files, deciding if they could be destroyed or put in the records room. You had been furious with Sihtric, but your anger slowly made way for sadness. Even if he annoyed you, you had grown fond of him and you couldn't deny that the past few weeks with him had been exciting. You blamed him for being taken off the case, but you were just as guilty as he was and you felt the need to apologise.

'Don't worry about it,' Sihtric replied, 'it happened. At least we weren't fired.'

'Being taken off a case is worse,' you said softly.

Sihtric didn't know what to say, and you looked away when suddenly your disappointment took over and you began to weep silently. Sihtric didn't notice it as he was going through the files, and when you sniffled several times he thought you just needed to sneeze.

'Do you need a tissue?' he asked, 'it's really dusty in here. Maybe you should blow your nose before you sneeze all over these fil-'

'I don't need to fucking sneeze!' you yelled desperately through your tears.

'Oh,' Sihtric gasped as he realised you were crying, 'what's wrong?'

'Everything!' you cried, 'I worked so hard to get where I am, to work on big cases as a woman in a station that's filled with men. Men who fuck up all the time and no one even cares. But I made one mistake, which wasn't even a life threatening one, and see where it landed me! It's so unfair!' you sobbed.

Sihtric clicked his tongue and sighed, feeling bad for you. He dropped the files on the floor next to him and crawled past the file boxes towards you.

'Come here,' Sihtric said softly and carefully pulled you in his arms, his cast resting on your shoulders, 'it's okay. I mean… I can't say that I understand it, because I don't, but I do know you're a good detective. Beocca was pretty harsh with his decision, but then we all know how much of a religious man he is, so I guess this case is just personal to him,' he reasoned, 'this is only temporary, you will get another case again, I'm sure of it.'

'How do you know?' you sniffled in his arms, your head resting against his chest while he leaned his chin on top of your head.

'Because you're smarter than most people in this station, and Beocca knows that too. I'm sorry I riled you up, and I'm sorry I was so rude in that coffee shop. I had no reason to say those things, I was just stressed about this new job and I took it out on the wrong people. I know you miss your previous partner, and I'm sorry he was transferred. I'll see what I can do,' Sihtric sighed, 'you know, maybe I can swap with him or something, and get him back here.'

You looked up at Sihtric and he wiped your tears.

'Would you really do that?'

'You know… I've really grown to like you,' he smiled sweetly, 'so if you want me to try and transfer, I would for you, even if it would sadden me.'

You exhaled sharply and then shrugged at him as you sat back. You mindlessly began to doodle on his arm cast while you went over your thoughts. Sihtric just looked at you, trying to figure out what you were thinking and not being aware you were drawing on his cast.

'I don't know,' you sniffled after a moment, 'maybe I don't want you to transfer anymore.'

You smiled faintly at Sihtric before you got up, telling him you needed some air and a coffee. Sihtric said you should take a short break and that he'd stay in the basement, sorting files, which you agreed to and promised you'd be back in ten minutes. Sihtric watched you walk out the door, and when he reached out to pick up some files he noticed his cast, and he smiled at the little heart you had drawn on it just yet.

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[sidecharactersdomatter]

Thoughts I had during TGCF Season 2 Ep 1

I’ve finished my quarter and I am spending my spring break reacting to Season 2! Let’s make this reaction series count!

-Welcome back to Puqi Village people, at morning and known for their chestnuts!  (The best nuts I’ve had outta the packet!)

-We are back at Puqi Shrine people!

-And the Altar is packed!

-Instrumental Hong Jue!!!

-Did he oversleep?

-Aww he’s so lonely! :’(

-Dang.  That is a clear stream

-Eeeeyep, he is thirsty!

-And a water droplet fell past his freaking throat!  They just had to animate that!

-It’s the same ring from last Ep!

-You mean, ‘Gege’ Yeah, I’ve already typed this, “I watch the English Dub religiously” Don’t judge me!

-It is the same ring people!!!

-Oooh he hid it!

-Yep like two years for us in 2023

-Oh her eye bags got deeper and darker

-Welp it just got serious

-Looks like we’re back in heaven

-They added 3D palace shots and camera panning

-Woah that was a really good transition with the bell toll

-I wonder what kept the emperor all season…

-Feng Xin!

-Mu Qing!

-It’s that female Blue robed NPC from Ep 4 on his far left!

-*Looks at how the camera pans up to the Heavenly Capital* My Oc Qing Tao is like: The Oldest Enemy I know, stairs…

-New opening people woo!!!

-New opening animation had me sold!!!  They really improved 2 years later

-I love how the music switches from a majestic powerful orchestra tune to a comical xylophone like leitmotif upon introducing Xie Lian.  To say, “And then there’s that guy.  Then there’s that guy.”

-Social Distancing, Ancient Chinese Pantheon Style

-Man tough crowd today!

-And after every official flees the Trash god, one of my Junior Official OCs, Long He goes, “Huh, who is that dude?”  And then his dad, a Civil God will say, “That dude is the Crown Prince of Xianle.  His highness crown prince Xie Lian!” And then that Civil god begrudgingly brings his palm to his face.

-*Hears Mengyou calling his highness*: Ladies, Gentlemen and Enby friends, Him!

-This has the energy of giving someone a lanyard pass to visit a certain building

-“It’s not that hard!”  “You ascended hundreds of years ago you know better!” “Now keep it with you!”  Only like 4 minutes into the first Ep and that NPC is already getting the best lines.  (More of Lang Qianqiu’s trusty assistant later this season folks!)

-He sounds just like the English actor for Elam, Justin Briner, from the Heroic Legend of Arslan (another awesome historical manga!)  Coincidentally, Elam is also one of Arslan’s most trusted Allies.

-I can’t wait to write more of my ATLA x TGCF crossover, The Scrap Immortal and the Avatar, just imagine the Gaang’s reaction to learning that there’s more than one crown prince worshipped!

-Man, it’s like I always say, “The rumor mill’s always a’runnin!”  Or water wheel since it’s ancient China

-Hi Ling Wen, man what kind of product did she use to hide those eye bags???

-I’ve started reading the Manhua series so, Huh? No cursed shackle?

-It’s been days and you still haven’t found the Moldy faced boy from Episode 3???

-I also can’t wait to write Aangs reaction inside that huge throne room, (“It’s bigger than the one in Ba Sing Se!”)

-Now we’re actually seeing the emperor, the first time was in the Episode 1 flashback near the end

-Now we get the first appearance of Pei Ming, who appeared in the Flashback of Ep 3

-Well that sounded patronizing coming from Pei Ming

-Now Pei Xiu has to reap what he sowed.

-Yep that’s a kill count

-I love how this next scene is basically,

Pei Ming: Your Highness, please tell everyone who accompanied you?  Then Xie Lian starts to compose an alibi:  Ah yes!  I will do that.  It was incredible!  What did we get swept in a sandstorm or something?  Oh yes! It was just a youth in red robes who was knowledgeable about the Ban Yue kingdom.  <- This incorrect quote is inspired by Zuko and Iroh lying to Commander Zhao about the state of their ship in episode 3, The Southern Air Temple.  (Does anyone else think that Xie Lian, is what would happen if you combined both Iroh and Zuko?)

-The face Xie Lian made when he’s trying to keep fibbing and brought his index finger to his cheek that was good body language

-Hi Windmaster.

-Oooh Feng Xin and Mu Qing

-Welp you tried keeping him innocent Xie Lian

-Not as complicated as your love life, maybe I should do a Pei Ming roast count?

-Hey Xie Lian is smarter than you look

-Pei Xiu still wants to protect Ban Yue even facing his impending banishment.

-Ok that line and Pei Ming’s attempt to kick Pei Xiu does seem like an abusive action in my perspective.

-Woah, and that was Jun Wu’s own gavel.

-Well that was a short trial

-Him calling Xie Lian to stay, has the exact energy of a teacher calling one student to stay after class to talk.

-Ling Wen is now talking with Jun Wu

- Now that was a really brief meet up between the Xianle trio.

-Thank you Wind Master, and they are a savage!

-Well he’s still mad

-*Sees Qianqiu still asleep standing up*: XDXDXDXDXD

-Aw he woke him up!

-Don’t worry honey, you didn’t miss much anyway

-How in the heck was he able to doze off through all that shouting. I almost fell asleep in a lecture and that’s nothing compared to TaiHua’s feat

-*Hears Jun Wu speak like*: Oh gods! Why did they have to make him sound so seductive! He’s like an East Asian Belos! (And I’m still busy working on Murder They Cast’s first phase)

-Oh Xie Lian’s expression when Jun Wu talks to him, it’s concerning!

-That soft “forgive me”

-I mean we learned about his huge failure in Season 1

-“How Disappointing!” STOP!!!

-Oooh I didn’t notice this during the rewatch but they played a stringed instrumental version of Bu San.

-Srsly HOW BIG IS HIS FREAKING PALACE?!?!?!

-A mural of heaven

-You gotta love Xie Lian’s modesty

-“Such a low opinion” yep his voice is like liquid gold and it is pure torture!

-“How’d you seduce trouble this time!” That tease in his voice why!!!!

-Aw good for you Xie Lian

-Just you wait till the second half of this season

-It’s their version of shooting a flare gun

-Oooh from left to right is Feng Xin, an unknown person behind him, next there’s Ling Wen(with what happens later in the series), Lang Qianqiu in the middle, Mu Qing is next, then there’s Pei Ming in front of him, and the last guy might be Quan’s Yizhen since he also appears in the 2nd half of the series. I hope I found every martial god

-Also the Thunder Master (my OC Leishi) tends to work part time

-There are retired officials???

-In tsiata (my TGCF x ATLA crossover, The Scrap immortal and the Avatar) Ghost City is more modernized than the Spirit World, since it’s mostly untamed wilderness

-Oh he had balls defending San Lang people

-“Your majesty makes me sound like a little princess” yeah that’s what you are honey

-That pose! I was watching this ep with my older sister and she said, “Man is draping himself!”

-He’s gonna touch the scimitar, isn’t he? (I’ve watched clips of Season 2 before doing my reaction posts)

-And Xie Lian still has the best preferences good on him!

-Xianle trio mention

- And I still think clearing the debt should’ve taken longer, but that’s just my small nitpick

-Yeah nobody round here can keep a secret

- *Sees Jun Wu walk up to Xie Lian reminding him to be careful and puts his hand on his shoulder*: That’s too much pressure!!!

- “I had it erected for you.” James Cheek totally had fun writing Season 2’s script

-I can see why he prefers his own shrine over how massive and opulent his new palace is.

-Hi Windmaster

-Ooh a pond reflection

-Yep that’s your traveling parter

-Then he just fans himself and he instantly slays

-Jacob Eiseman had fun with his performance and ate up every crumb

-Windmaster is Genderfluid Bisexual culture people!

- “Thoroughly~” Yep that just slayed me I’m down

-Yeah Qingxuan’s cultivation backstory is gonna age like curdled milk in Book 4

-Man I just love all of Xie Lian and Shi Qingxuan’s interactions with each other!

-Xie Lian, honey, you are way too good to be a tumor, trust me

-I love how Qingxuan also defended Ban Yue from Pei Ming

-“You were my kind of crazy” I love how Shi Qingxuan and Xie Lian instantly became besties

-Dude, Qingxuan puts the “fun” in function in both forms!

-This is exactly the reason I made my Thunder master OC Leishi female too.

-Now I gotta draw Xie Lian’s female form

-Yeah I react the same when letting a small amount of alcohol in my system

-The witching hour

-To quote a well known assassin Yor Forger, “No way I’m doing this sober”

-That one wrinkled ghost did not age gracefully

-Yeah their burial grounds are in Taiwan, awesome island I definitely need to visit

- Why did they have to design every Heavenly Official to be so Attractive???

-It’s the Spirit World from Spirited Away

-Ghost City would seem like a more modern area than the Spirit World in the Last Airbender

-The heck’s this confetti

-Ooh I like the green dressed spirit with the dark bamboo hat

-Hi Jian Lan

Literally any of my young adults would react to a promiscuous person with just one word in annoyance, “Prostitutes…”

-Honey Xie Lian is already outta your league, try finding someone else that’s your type

-Yeah you didn’t have to tell everyone about your medical condition, heck I don’t even want to picture the Gaang’s reaction after hearing it

-Ghost City is the Las Vegas of Ancient China

-Bouncers

-I love the female NPC that greeted Xie Lian she has a great voice and design

-Oh I know who that is

-He clutched his heart!

-“No thanks~” *Instantly fans myself*

-The camera pan to this throne!!! He is gay and he means business!!!

-James Cheek has ate it up!!!

-The soft “San Lang”

That was an awesome start to the Second Season. Sorry if I haven’t been posting I’m four weeks into my quarter and I also got back into writing fanfic, like the first chap of The scrap immortal and the Avatar. I’ll still do every reaction to Season 2 on weekends!

[holymusicalmothman]

Heat of the Moments - Dan Avidan x Reader

This is based off that second dream I had about Danny.

Also I’m tagging the people who liked that post in case they were interested.

Anywho, as per usual. No Ashley. I’m not including her in any of my Danny Fic

The way I had to google the weirdest stuff for this lol. I’m going to try to be writing more, it keeps me calm and wedding stress is driving me nuts since it’s only a month away. ANYWAYS. So while requests aren’t technically open, I’m totally cool with being sent fic ideas for the characters I typically write for. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be inspired

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of anxiety, mentions of being led on

Word Count: 2610 (gosh dang. good job me!)

Comments are always appreciated! I love hearing y’alls brain thoughts after reading lol.

Masterlist

Two years. It had been two years working for Game Grumps. Quite honestly, it had been one of the best years of your life. You had always been fascinated by the Youtube Gaming community, and you were grateful to finally be a part of it. Granted, you were mainly putting your art and animation talents to the test, but knowing what it all went toward was more than enough. You were more than content to live as you were.

However, it was not without its challenges. Outside of the fact that you were doing what you loved, over the last half couple months it had begun feeling rather tense-ish with a certain coworker. Well, tense for you at least.

Dan Avidan, Game Grumps host, musician extraordinaire, and coworker had been seeming rather…flirtatious? Was that a good way to put it? 

Yes, you supposed it was. It was one of those things, however, where it’s such casual flirtatious comments that you can’t tell if he’s actually hitting on you or not. If you thought about each moment from different angles, you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being flirty or friendly.

Moment No. 1

It had been a Monday morning and everyone had seemed to have a case of the Monday Morning Blues. It had rained all weekend and everyone seemed to have that bleary eyed sleepiness. Even Arin was having a bit of trouble bringing what he called his “Internet Funny Man” energy to the office that morning. The weather seemed to be making everyone feel sleepy.

And you were certainly no exception. You stood in the kitchen, in front of the Keurig, just staring into the nonexistent void as you waited for your coffee. 

A light touch on your arm startled you out of your stupor and you found a mildly concerned looking Dan at your side.

“Oh, hey, sorry. What’s up?” You asked lamely, unsure of how long he had been standing there.

Dan’s brown eyes furrowed in confusion. “You didn’t hear what I said, did you?” 

You just shook your head. 

The confusion vanished as it turned into mirth. “That’s alright,” he smiled, “you seemed like you were witnessing the depths of the abyss for a second, so I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

A light chuckle escaped you. “I can’t say much for right now, but if you give the coffee a few minutes, I’ll be good. It’s just a case of the Mondays.”

“Good, wouldn’t want my favorite animator succumbing to madness. Talk to you later, sunshine.” 

And with a quick pat on the shoulder, he was gone. Leaving you alone in the kitchen wondering what the hell just happened. 

Moment No. 2 

Late. Late. Late. You were oh so terribly late. You somehow managed to sleep right through your alarm and were now rushing to work. Not good. 

Granted, you were only going to be fifteen minutes late, and you also knew Arin would understand and no one would mind. However, it still sent you rushing around in a state of panic. 

You hurried into the office with a relieved sigh. As you sat down at your desk, you let out a frustrated sigh. 

Brian raised an eyebrow from his spot across from you. 

“You good?”

Shoving the frustration to the side, you smiled. “Yeah, just ran late and skipped breakfast, then left lunch on the counter. It happens, but this is what DoorDash is for right?”

Brian gave you a concerned look that only a father could manage. “Just make sure you eat something.”

“Yes, sir, Ninja Brian, sir.” You gave him a mock salute before tucking yourself into today’s work, unaware that another set of ears had heard the exchange. 

After a few hours, you stood to stretch and take a quick restroom break. Upon returning to your desk, however, there was now a take out bag resting next to your computer. 

You blinked. The restaurant was familiar, it was close by and also an office favorite, so it wasn’t uncommon for take out to be seen around the office.

But you hadn’t ordered lunch from anywhere yet. 

You peered inside the bag, immediately catching sight of the blue sticky note.

Hey!

Heard you missed breakfast, so I grabbed you some lunch! 

This one’s on me, so don’t sweat it.

♥️ Danny.

You stared at the little heart. Not only had Dan bought you lunch, he had also signed it with a heart. 

What was going on. Was he into you?

Moment No. 3

It wasn’t very often that you got to sit in on a Ten Minute Power Hour, but when you did it was always a blast. 

So you were crammed off screen next to Allie, watching the guys try and do a Draw My Life but with their friendship over the years.

Arin was red in the face from laughing. “What is that?!” he wheezed. 

Throwing up his hands in exasperation, Dan exclaimed, “IT’S LINK! CAN’T YOU TELL BY THE HAIR?”

Cue the entire room dying. 

This only spurred on Dan’s frustration. “Someone come fix this!” He threw his marker down and stood, walking over to the background shelves to dramatically sulk. 

Arin only laughed harder and waved you over. “Come help him out, cause I can’t think right now.”

You hesitated for a moment. Watching on the sidelines was one thing but actually being on camera and involved in an episode like this wasn’t something you had prepared for. 

Allie nudged you gently and you stood. You were an artist, it was essentially what you did for a living and had been doing your whole life. So why were your hands sweating.

As you grabbed the marker and surveyed Dan’s disaster of a drawing, you spoke. “It’s not that bad. I mean, it’s not good, but its salvageable.”

You quickly erased the stick-figure Link’s hair as Dan pulled away from the shelves to watch you work.

“This is the only Get Outta Jail card you’re getting, dude.” Arin said, grinning. 

“I’ll take it, man. This is a nightmare.”

You laughed and shook your head as you finished redrawing the hair and added a little sword in the figure’s hand. 

“There we go!” You stepped back and quickly rejoined Allie, anxious to be out of the momentary spotlight.

“Hey! It looks like Link!” Dan grinned at you. “Thanks, lovely!”

Your heart stuttered against your will. “Anytime.” You said, covering up your momentary malfunction.

Lovely. Granted, Dan called the fans “lovelies” but something about the way he had just said it was different than how he addressed the fans. You had to force yourself to not think about it. To not play into the way your heart was slowly starting to formulate a crush. You were just reading into things.

Moment No. 4 

It wasn’t unusual to find yourself working on a quick little Grumps animation for one of the videos. Every now and then, Arin asked if you could make a little one to slip into a video, never anything super long. Just long enough to keep people entertained. He tended to use them as intermissions of a sort, in case they got interrupted by something mid video. 

You had just finished one up and were going over it to double check on everything when someone leaned over you. 

“What’cha working on?” Danny asked, looking at your screen with curiosity. 

You felt your palms go clammy at the close proximity, but hid it well. 

“Just a short animation for one of the recent recordings.” You explained. “Wanna see?”

Dan gave an excited nod and you handed him your headset, trying (and failing) to not watch how he brushed his hair out of his face. 

It had been a little bit since the Ten Minute Power Hour moment and you were still warring with the fact that you might have a crush on the lanky musician. 

Dan braced one hand on your desk and the other on the back of your chair, “Show me what you got.”

As you hit play on the animation, the only thing you could think of was those stupid cliche moments in novels where the guy leans on the girl’s desk because this was exactly how you pictured it looking and feeling like. Your palms went from a nervous clammy to an anxiety sweaty. Or somewhere in between, you couldn’t tell.

You were very aware of the way he was leaning over you and you swore you could smell him. He had a very faint woodsy scent to him, you couldn’t tell if it was a cologne or if it was just him. A lock of unruly hair brushed against your shoulder and it took everything into you to keep pretending to watch the video. 

Eventually it was over and your headset was handed back to you. 

“That was really good!” He was smiling at you. “Is that for the ‘technical difficulties’ from yesterday?” 

The air quotes he put up when he said technical difficulties had you laughing. 

“If you mean when the resident ghost knocked over the shelf,” You said. “Then yes.”

Dan’s smile was infectious as he leaned closer and dropped his voice. “It was the ghost of all the games we never finished finally coming back to haunt us.” 

You both laughed. 

“Anyways, I was just curious to what you were up to. It looks really good, you’ve got an insane amount of talent.”

And the war was lost. Because with just that sentence, you knew you had a major crush.

Moment No. 5

The next moment didn’t even happen at work. You weren’t even around him at the moment.

All you had done was throw a quick pic of a work in progress up on your instagram. It hadn’t even been up for ten minutes before you got a comment notification.

@dannyavidan : This looks so good! I’ve got to get you to do a piece for NSP someday!

You stared at the comment. Dan wanted you to do a piece for his band? 

You don’t know how long you sat there thinking. Eventually, a ding sounded and you checked your instagram again. 

Dan had messaged you.

Dan: Hey! I was totally serious about having you do a piece for the band! We’ve got a new project coming up and I would love to have someone as talented as you on the team for it!

You: Seriously?

Dan: You wound me! Of course. You put a lot of effort into what you do and it’s really good. Why? Dost the fair maiden think I jest? 😆

Your fingers hesitated briefly before responding, your heart and brain going a million miles an hour. Yes, he was being kinda dorky, but it was endearing.

You: I’ll think about it. But it shouldn’t be a problem. 😀

A few hours passed and you were scrolling through Instagram before bed. Just a few minutes and you’d go to sleep, it was a weekend night after all. Flicking through stories, you almost passed NSP’s insta story. 

“Guess who may have just gotten the coolest animator ever to do a video!”

Whelp. There went any hope for sleep. 

Present. 

It had taken a lot of internal thinking, panicking, and general theorizing over the past few month for you to finally make up your mind.

But all the past moments had you sure of your crush on Dan. And, after confiding in a longtime friend, you were sure he felt the same. It couldn’t be a coincidence. 

So you had decided to take the plunge. You were going to take the initiative. You were going to ask him out.

And the thought almost left you breathless. 

But as you walked into work that morning, ruminating over the past few months, you mustered your determination and found Dan in the kitchen area.

“Morning,” you greeted him, smiling. 

He gave a little wave and continuing making his tea. There was a pretty large recording session for the guys that morning.

“Can I ask you something?” You said, not giving yourself a chance to abort the mission at hand.

Dan nodded. 

“Would you wanna go on a date this Friday? With me?” And there it was.

He froze. 

A moment passed. Then another. And a third.

And both your heart and stomach went through the floor. 

Dan finally spoke, his voice coming out strained. “Um, listen…”

You held both your hands up. “No, it’s cool, I misinterpreted. It’s fine. You don’t need to answer. I’ll see you around the office, ‘kay?”

And you bolted without giving him a moment to even try to respond.

You felt sick. The rug under your feet was gone and the tears pricking your eyes were starting to sting from you trying to hold them back. You made a beeline for the Power Hour room, knowing it’d be empty and you collapsed onto the Grump Couch. 

You took a deep breath and let them slip silently down your face.

You felt like such an idiot. Yes, Dan had seemed like he was flirting, but obviously it hadn’t truly been that way.

You heard the door open and close softly and you jumped up to see Arin standing there.

“You okay? Need to talk about whatever it is?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

You sat back down and wiped your eyes with a shaky breath.

“It’s nothing. I just misinterpreted signals and it’s on me,” you admitted. “Mistook friendliness as flirtiness, that’s all.”

“Was someone leading you on?” He asked, seating himself next to you.

So he must’ve not seen you get rejected by Dan, becaused he sounded like a concerned older brother who was about ready to fight someone.

You shook your head. Dan didn’t even seem capable of something like that. 

“It honestly was just a misunderstanding. With any luck we’ll just both forget it ever happened and things will just go back to normal.” 

The door opened again, albeit a lot less gently than it had when Arin entered. 

“Hey, I didn’t—” 

You stared at Dan like a deer in headlights and you knew that he was looking at the tears on your face.

Arin stood. “Alright you two, play nice and get this sorted out.” He said, shaking his head as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

A awkward pause, and then Dan was sitting next to you. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry, I did not mean to make you cry. You must think I’m such an ass.” He rambled. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was rejecting you at all. God, I must’ve sounded like a jerk.”

You said nothing, staring at him. Your silence urging him to continue.

“I wasn’t expecting you to ask me out first, and you caught me with a giant piece of turkey in my mouth and I was trying to find a way to tell you that there was way too much food in my mouth but you were already gone. I am so sorry.”

“You weren’t expecting me to…” your words failed you.

“No, not at that moment,” Dan looked away, suddenly going from panicked to rather shy. “I honestly was still trying to get enough courage to ask you.”

A moment of charged silence passed as you both mulled over your thoughts.

“So, will you…?” Dan trailed off.

You snapped your gaze to meet his brown eyes.

“Will I…”

“Would you go out with me? This Friday? Seven o’clock?” He asked, nervousness, uncertainty and hope in his eyes. 

You grinned, ignoring the way that tears once more tried to make an appearance. “I’d love to.”

Dan’s eyes sparkled in response. 

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

For the people who liked the other post: @perhaps-im-dave-rolland @shnashq​ and @pwudding-pwup

[roosterbox]

October Almost-Drabbles 10/13: Maze

Pairing: Steddie, implied Eddie x Chrissy (for like a SINGLE line)

Word Count: 1,027. God fucking dang it.

Additional tags: modern AU, single dads, implied meet-cute, Max is a lil shit and also Eddie’s daughter, Dustin is a sweetheart and also Steve’s son, Max’s POV

Side note: I TRIED TO KEEP IT SHORT. I SWEAR I TRIED. But as you can see, I failed, so this one goes under a cut, lol. The maze aspect was just a jumping off point, so I’m sorry it doesn’t play more of a part. Most of these prompts are of a similar nature for me - inspiration, though I may go off the rails a bit in the actual execution.

Anyway, enjoy!

———

“Our dads are gross.”

Max looked back at the two men trailing behind her and Dustin. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she could see their expressions just fine, thank you very much. Her dad, always animated with his hands, was talking and gesturing wildly. She could see the flash of sunlight against his rings. Dustin’s dad seemed to be listening intently, smiling. And blushing. Every now and then he’d interject, probably asking a question about the story. They were both making absolutely ridiculous goo-goo eyes at each other. Ugh, disgusting. She made a gagging noise and looked away.

“Super gross,” Dustin agreed. The path split a few yards ahead, and the kids decided silently as a unit to continue together down the left side.

“Don’t get too far ahead, Dust.” The boy’s dad called out. They were following at a respectable distance; close enough to keep an eye out, but far enough to give the kids some measure of independence. Dustin slowed down a little, giving a thumbs up. His dad visibly relaxed. Max saw her dad give the other man a comforting arm squeeze. In a touch that, in her opinion, lingered a bit too long.

She scowled. “D’you think we could lose them? In the maze?”

“We shouldn't.” Dustin looked nervous. “My dad gets really worried about stuff like that. This one time, my friend Mike and I got separated from him at the mall, and he totally freaked out.” He shuddered. “Never seen my dad cry before that.”

Max shrugged. “My dad cries all the time. Shoulda seen him at the last Disney movie we watched. He cried more than me. I didn’t even cry when I got this!” She waved her arm, in a cast from wrist nearly to elbow. “But before that, before he found you, was it fun? Hanging out without him?”

“I guess,” the boy was looking at his shoes. “But I don’t think it was worth it.” He glanced back at his dad again. “He seems happy.”

The two men walked comfortably side by side. Their arms were brushing as they moved, and if Max knew anything about her dad, he was actively fighting the urge to take his new friend’s hand. Just then, to her horror, he did. The other guy looked surprised, but then… he grinned. And now it was her own dad’s turn to blush.

“Gross!” She called out.

Her dad waved her off. “Don’t mind her, Steve. Ten years old and already a little adult. I’m going gray before my time.”

Dustin’s dad laughed. “You look fine to me.”

At that, her dad raised an eyebrow. “Oh, ‘fine’ is it now?” He leaned a little closer. There was a very particular gleam in his eye. One Max recognized at a distance, though she might not have known exactly what it entailed. Whatever it was, it was probably more Disgusting Adult Stuff. If they actually kissed, she was going to puke.

Luckily, somebody must have been looking out for her, because as they rounded the next bend…”

“We’re out!” Dustin cheered, making a break for the entrance/exit of the maze. Max ran after him, missing her dad’s quietly disappointed “damnit.” The adults still walked out hand in hand though.

“Did you have a good time?” Dad asked her later, while they were getting settled in the car.

She shrugged. “It was okay, I guess.” He snorted.

“A ringing endorsement.”

Her eyebrow raised in a perfect imitation of him. “What about you? Have fun slobbering all over Dustin’s dad?”

He chose that moment to start the car. “What? Sorry, can’t hear you!” He yelled over the sputter and roar of the engine. One of these days the whole damn thing was gonna fall apart. That’s what Grandpa Wayne said whenever he took rides with them.

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. They pulled out of the maze parking lot, and began the long drive back to Hawkins. After a few minutes of silence, he spoke up.

“Say, Max… how would you feel about me inviting your new friend over for lunch sometime? Might be fun.”

“Yeah, or you could just ask his dad out on a date or whatever. Dunno why you’re using us kids as an excuse.” She saw him stiffen a bit out of the corner of her eye, but kept her gaze out the window, watching familiar passing scenery.

“What? Me and Steve? A date? Nah, come on.” He tried to play it off, but his face was too pink for her to really believe him.

“Did you at least get his number? Because I remember when you and Chrissy broke up-“

“Hey now-“

“-and that was a freaking nightmare. A solid month of nothing but gross pining.”

He gasped, indignant. “I don’t pine!”

She gave him a flat look.

“It wasn’t that bad!”

Her expression didn’t change. He sighed, resigned.

“Okay, fine, it was bad. But I can’t help it, Max - I’ve always been this way. Big feelings, you know?”

“Oh I know. ‘S why Papa tells me he’s glad I got my mom’s temperament. ‘More than two of you’d be sending me to an early grave, and not a moment too soon.’” That last bit was said in a gruff imitation of Wayne’s voice. Her impression improved every time she did it, and never failed to make her dad laugh.

“Point taken, you little menace. And to answer your question: yes. I did, in fact, get Steve’s number.”

“Gross. I bet you gave him a super cute, disgusting nickname in your contacts too.”

He coughed and focused back on the road ahead. Max smirked. Bullseye.

“Just promise me one thing? Don’t call him as soon as we get home? It was embarrassing enough to watch you guys flirt back there. At least wait until I’m asleep. Or at the skate park. Or anywhere that’s not at the trailer.”

“Deal. Easy. I’ll bet you like ten bucks I won’t even think of calling him until tomorrow!”

And Max immediately agreed, knowing that she’d be ten dollars richer by the end of the day.

He barely held out for an hour.

———

(The nickname was “Pretty Boy,” by the way. In a few months, it’ll get changed to “Sweetheart.” It was “Babylove” for like a day. But then Max borrowed his phone, saw it, and demanded he change it because GROSS, DAD.)

[adultswim2021]

Tim and Eric Awesome Show Great Job #49: “Greene Machine” | April 26, 2010 - 12:30AM | S05E09

One of those TIm & Eric episodes that’s more-or-less one thing. This is actually introduced as an episode of Inventive Discoveries, a paid-programming commercial presentation for the Tairy Greene Machine, a refrigerator-sized appliance that is dedicated to showing you any movie, TV show, or public appearance featuring Tairy Greene. It’s hosted by Tim & Eric, the later of which has sliced his hands very badly and requires medical attention. He instead opts to wrap them in gauze and proceed with the infomercial.

We are treated to an extensive trailer for The Little Dancing Man, starring Tairy Greene, portrayed by then-comedy mega-star Zach Galifianakis. It’s a weepy-but-inspirational tale about a brilliant ballet dancer who loses the use of his legs. He is despondent, and constantly crying. The ghost of Levar Burton appears to him, and either helps him recover, or is just holding him up the entire time Angels-in-the-Outfield-style, eventually leading him to lift off and fly around like a dang-ass bird. He is still crying constantly, but now they are tears of joy. 

Our hosts show us how to get extra features, like the kind you find on a highfalutin special edition DVD edition. This costs extra, but luckily it’s only two Tairy Tokens (which cost $39.99 apiece) to see the tie-in music video. 

Enter Mary Bly, the high-strung old woman whose delivery is unlike anyone else's. She wants to watch The Little Danson Man, a spiritual spin-off to the Tairy Greene film about Ted Danson being shrunk down by a bolt of lightning and having to adjust to his new life of being hella small. David Cross is in this, playing his agent, who promises to get him all the tiny things he could ask for. David Cross again approximates Tim & Eric’s sensibilities and slightly misses the mark, but he’s mostly okay in this. Him saying he gets the “chilly willies” just reminds me of him saying “I ain’t no ho-ho” in the Abstinence episode, and I FAMOUSLY didn’t care for that. Sorry to pick nits, I promise I respect David Cross. I even watch his bad podcast sometimes. 

There’s also a tie-in music video for this film, featuring Peter Cetera from the band Chicago. Some friends of mine have a mutual fascination with a certain public persona who loves the band Chicago, and I remember riffing with them about his reaction to the sketch. We would mock this man for having a son, for some reason, and I suggested that the part in which the tiny Ted pops up and tugs on Peter Cetera’s cool earring just disappointing this man on a profound level, and that he’d be watching it with his son. He would turn to him, shaking his head in disapproval, point to Tim & Eric on screen, and say to him, “those men fucked me, son”. Made us laugh, anyway. 

Okay: I am pretty sure Tim told a story on Office Hours or somewhere about recording Peter Cetera (It might be about someone else, but I’m having trouble finding a source to confirm or deny my claims) who took all of this very seriously and was a consummate professional. According to Tim there was a little lull in the conversation and Tim was feeling awkward and found himself mindlessly asking Cetera if he ate “a lot of fish”. 

The Tairy Greene Machine runs on tap water, but when you’re done using it you simply open the back of it to let the water spill out on the floor. The machine comes with a bunch of mops, so you simply mop the mess up.

While mopping, Eric eventually succumbs to his blood loss. Tim eulogizes him by slapping his shoulder and saying “you were the best”. Cut to a panicked Mary Bly, seemingly caught in an unguarded moment of genuine confusion. She looks into the camera and pathetically asks “What am I supposed to do? Who am I??”. I recall Tim & Eric discussing this moment as a highlight in their careers, and it inspired them to cast Mary as Mrs. Heidecker in their Billion Dollar Movie. She also shows up in a Funny or Die Presents segment that was created by Tim & Eric collaborators Ben Berman and Jon Mugar.

I’ve always really liked this one, and have used the whole crying-too-much thing as a reference point for pandering, over-serious tear-jerkers. This is basically satirizing the dramatic version of a sitcom, only instead of a laugh-track there’s a crytrack.

I’m usually glad when Tim & Eric do an episode that is roughly all one thing. Some of them are like short films, while some are things that still resemble the format of a typical Awesome Show episode, just with everything tied together. Is this Jim & Derrick? Brother, it’s not even Anniversary. But I consider this a highlight of season Cinco, even if you don’t. 

EPHEMERA CORNER

[heididthat]

Introducing for the first time ever: Mr and Mrs Zechariah Church!

(With photos and an exclusive interview with the stylist!)

Written and Edited by: Anna-Marie Kingston-Layne

You heard right folks, a new power couple has made their official debut! On a beautifully warm and sunny afternoon at Newcrest Wedding Chapel, A-List stylist to the stars, Amaya Kingston-Brown, married the San-Myshuno Times Bestselling Author after just over two years of dating. The wedding, hosted three Sundays ago, was witnessed by the pair's extremely close friends and family members, including World famous rapper, August Lovett and his entrepreneur/influencer wife, Alanna Lovett.

Fresh from their honeymoon, I sat down with Kingston-Brown to hear her thoughts on that special day and how her relationship came to be.

First and foremost, congratulations on your nuptials! How did you manage to pull off such a small, intimate wedding as someone who is well known?

“Thank you, Ms. Layne. Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to have a family centered wedding,” Kingston-Brown stated. “From the maid of honour and best man to the officiant, I wanted everything to be our family members. I'm fortunate enough to be loved by a man with similar values. We were very meticulous about choosing where we wanted to hold our ceremony. Newcrest is often seen as a dead zone and we both live there, it just fell into place.”

Above: Pictures of Zechariah Church and Amaya Kingston-Brown, with the wedding officiant, B-Tier street Artist, Jeremy Layne.

What was the inspiration behind your wedding theme?

“Funnily enough, we had no theme. My whole life is about creating trends and themes but for my own wedding? We just did everything based on feeling and some how, it came together seamlessly.”

Seriously, no theme?

Nope. Just love and vibes.

So you bought your dress without having any direction?

“Actually, my friend and fellow stylist, Darovan made my dress. She insisted. So I was the first person to wear a dress from her now released bridal collection! When I put the dress on, I knew that no matter how our wedding looked, it would be perfect. She made sure Riah's accents on his tux also matched my dress. We were surrounded by people who knew us so well, we didn't have to do much so we could just enjoy being engaged. It was such a blessing.”

I'm seriously impressed. Tell me then, how did this relationship even come to be? In our interview a few years ago, you said that you were indifferent to romance.

“Hahaha, I can't believe you remember that! Honestly, I have my youngest sister Crystal to thank for that. Zechariah and I were neighbours and I never looked his way because I didn't think there'd be anything there. I was definitely interested, but I'm so dang introverted, there was no way I was asking him out.”

Photos from the reception

Who made the first move, then?

“He did! It came completely out of the blue for me. We spent a few months growing from neighbours to friends and then one random day in the spring, he asked me out. He didn't even get the question out before I said yes,” she laughs. “I was so tense during our first date that I thought I'd ruined my chances. We'd went to the park near by and spent the afternoon there for a picnic. I was avoiding eye contact, speaking very few sentences but he was so patient with me. At one point, he slid his finger under my chin to get me to look at him. I don't know where the confidence came from but I ended up planting one right on him!”

So you kissed him first?

“Yes! And then swiftly ran away. I was so embarrassed, I had a tiny crying fit in my room, over analyzing every where I went wrong, thinking he probably thought I was weird. At this time, I knew I had it BAD for Riah, so if he found me weird, I was 100% prepared to disappear into the abyss.”

Well clearly that didn't happen! So, what did?

She smiled faintly before starting again. “A few hours later, he stopped by the house with a bouquet of tulips and asked for us to be exclusive. Apparently, my nervous rambling was— and still is a major turn on for him, haha!”

More photos from the reception.

How did you know Zechariah was the one for you?

She smiles faintly. “When I stopped questioning myself when I was with him. When I realized I could be 100% myself with him without feeling self-conscious. Not only does Riah make me feel safe, he makes me feel so loved. Despite how difficult I was, he chose to love me everyday in spite of it. Also, he's not afraid to tell me where I messed up and how I can improve. He's always putting my needs before his own. He's so selfless, it's ridiculous.”

He actually said something very similar about you! You two are very in sync.

“Really? Wow. You know, personality wise we're so different but we're soulmates in every sense of the word.”

What are some of your fondest date memories with you and your now husband?

“Ahh, you said husband!” She glowed brightly, continuing. "Gosh, we've had so many great ones. My favourites are definitely the ones where we talked all night under the stars or when he'd pick me up just before dawn to watch the sunrise.”

Are you planning on sticking with your current branding or are you rebranding with your new name?

“As much as I like my last name, I'm very excited to be Mrs. Church. When we'd just got engaged, I practiced writing out my name to see how I could potentially incorporate it into my brand. Then I decided, I wanted to keep my professional and personal lives separate. The best way to do that was to keep both of my names. So on paper, I'm Amaya Church. When I'm working, however, I'm Amaya Kingston-Brown. Who knows, I may feel different in the future but this is currently what's happening.”

The Churches, pictured above, in front of their new home.

Last questions, Mrs. Church: how was your honeymoon and what's next for this relationship?

“It was absolutely wonderful, a well needed vacation. Tartosa is beautiful at this time of year and the locals were lovely. We stayed right on the beach.”

Pictured above: Amaya Kingston-Brown (front) and myself, Anna-Marie Kingston-Layne (back).

“As for what's next, we recently bought a house in our hometown and since we're both financially stable and we've done our own self reflection, like working on our mental and emotional health, we're thinking about maybe adding a few additions to our little family in a few months or years, maybe a dog or maybe a baby. I have a feeling it'll be soon, if the way Riah looks at me is any indication 😏.”

Interviewing Kingston-Brown is always a treat. She proceeded to disclose some plans for her brand being made public very soon so be sure to stay on the lookout! She also told us that Church's new romance book duet will also be releasing at the end of the month.

As for me, I couldn't be happier for my older sister and my new brother in-love. Congratulations to you both again!

[tehuti88-art]

8/16/24: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's characters from my anthro WWII storyline are Frieda Orchudesch, her father Herr Orchudesch (no first name given), and Hans von Adel. The first two unwittingly help inspire Josef Diamant to start working for the resistance; while Hans is unrelated to them, he's Ratdog's/Adel von NN's grandson (son of his daughter Tatiana), who's named after his deceased son Hans von NN. There'll be more about them later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding their design, the Orchudesches are German spaniels (I'm iffy on the father's hairstyle), while Hans is meant to resemble both his grandfather and his namesake quite a bit.

TUMBLR EDIT: Placeholder text due to Tumblr's backdating changes. Please check back later for more info.

Following text will be modified for the next entries.

Frieda...*checks*...Orchudesch...dang that's going to take me some time...is a character concept who's been around a bit, yet nameless until just about now, and her story has shifted multiple times. It may shift yet again. But here's how it currently goes.

For some related story, check out JUTTA BENTZ'S ENTRY. This outlines Diamant's career as a jeweler and a surprise document forger, from the POV of neighboring shopkeepers who witness when his shop is raided and he's taken away. What led an esteemed jeweler to risk his own life and safety forging IDs for fleeing Jews, though...? Especially seeing as he never uses one to escape, himself.

Diamant's shop bell jingles one day and he calls out, "Coming!" and exits the back area where he's moving some boxes. In the shop he finds an older gentleman, slicked-back hair, nice suit, obviously well off, and an equally smart-dressed young woman with unusual red ringlets and soft green eyes. "Guten Tag," Diamant greets them, introduces himself, and asks how he might help them. The man says his daughter is looking for a piece of jewelry for her birthday. The young woman pipes up to say she's seeking a pendant, preferably a locket ("Money is no issue!" the man says cheerfully), and Diamant brings out a tray with a selection of his better works. The red-haired woman coos at one of the lockets--"That one's near perfect!"--but "I was kind of hoping I could find a particular design...do you have a pencil, or pen?" and when Diamant offers her such she makes a small sketch of ivy leaves. Diamant says he can do custom orders, if she's specific about everything she wants and is willing to have to wait and return when it's done. The young woman elaborates a bit on her sketch--she'd also like a jewel set in the locket front--and the drawing she makes is detailed enough that Diamant's pretty sure he can give her what she wants. They nail down the final details--including an estimate of the price (Diamant's work is good enough that he's not cheap, especially for custom designs, yet again the woman's father beams at her as he says, "Nothing is too much for mein Liebchen!")--and Diamant asks them to return in a week, it should be done by then. The man gives Diamant his card--his name is Orchudesch, his daughter is named Frieda--and the two go on their way.

Diamant works alone, he has no apprentice or even a secretary to keep records straight or a shopgirl to greet customers; he handles absolutely every aspect of the business himself. It's a lonely existence but he's used to it, and he prefers having his own routines, doing his own thing, unencumbered by others insisting what he should do. He often stays late after hours, keeping his client records in order or putting the fine touches on his latest work. The tinier and more complicated the piece, the more he's up for the challenge; he spends many hours deep into the night, losing track of time, hunched over some stone or piece of metal, jeweler's loupe at his eye, and has to make himself set the project aside just so he can stretch his aching back and go get some sleep. He has no time or motivation for friends or relationships; the gemstones are his existence, it's even in his name, like he was simply fated for this life. So he thinks little of the people behind this latest order--it's the project itself that he anticipates making the best he possibly can, he charges what he does because he pours everything he has into each work, and no one ever complains that he gouges them--and instead focuses on browsing through his collection of raw and tumbled stones, seeking the best one to fit Fräulein Frieda's specifications. He selects a tiny rough emerald and sets to work shaping it, careful to avoid fracturing the delicate stone into brittle pieces; he again heads to bed late and aching and vowing never to do so again although he knows he will.

He repeats the process the following nights, only this time selecting and shaping the metal, putting in the design, using enamel to color all the tiny ivy leaves but one, which receives the emerald. It's quite a chore insetting the teeny little gem, but he does it, secures it in place, smooths out the smudges, polishes it all to a shine, selects a chain. The Orchudesches return at the end of the week and wait as he sets down and unfolds the soft little cloth he wraps up his projects in and presents the locket to them. Diamant never looks down at his own work when showing it off, he looks at his customers' reactions to see what they think. Frieda's eyes light up--green like the enamel and the emerald--and she picks the pendant up, cradling it gently in her palm--he notices that, too. "It's almost too beautiful to even wear," she says, yet, "Papa, would you--?" and Herr Orchudesch secures the locket around her neck so it lies against her chest. She gives him a big hug--"I believe mein Liebchen is satisfied with the product!" Herr Orchudesch exclaims--and he gives Diamant his payment. "Danke, danke schön," Frieda says, holding out her hand, which Diamant grasps--he intends to clasp it briefly and then let go, not desiring to seem forward or inappropriate--but she places her other hand over his and squeezes hard before letting go. The two are still thanking him profusely as they depart. Diamant waves, but he's vaguely distracted trying to figure out why his ears started burning when Frieda clutched his hand. It can't be a crush. They're adults not children, he only just met her, and he doesn't get crushes, that's just silly. Still...in the following days as he's working on other projects, he finds that his thoughts keep returning to her. Not only was she pretty, and friendly, and appreciated his work...but she seemed to have a decent eye for design, herself.

I've never gotten into developing Diamant's backstory, his life before his job as a jeweler in the story's unnamed city. Before his imprisonment in Ernst Dannecker's labor camp, he lives a pretty decent life as an upper-middle class Jew: not quite upper class himself, he's still technically a craftsman and a merchant, making a living with his hands, yet definitely not poor--he can afford to charge fair prices based on his skill level without customers feeling cheated. Initially my assumption was he came from a family of jewelers--literally, it's in his family name, and was the reason I originally chose the surname Diamant--yet the fact that he doesn't appear to come from a wealthy background makes this seem a bit more complicated. Based on the name, I'll still assume Diamant's family has long traditionally dealt in lapidary, and Diamant just continues the tradition, which is presumably passed down from parent to child. (Diamant has no children, thus no apprentice.) But somehow, between Diamant and the Diamant family's heyday, some sort of interruption took place, to cast the family back down near poverty, so that it looks as if Diamant had to work hard to pull himself up from it...what was it? Whatever it was, it possibly led to the near-extinction of the family line, as, just like with so many characters in my story, Diamant has no close relations left. We never see his mother, father, siblings. Whatever hit the Diamant family, it hit them hard, and only Diamant remained to pull the name back up.

I toyed with the idea of the family residing in a ghetto--one of the older ones--but based on dates, this likely would have been abolished by Diamant's parents' time, at least. (Diamant must be born around or very shortly before the turn of the century, circa 1900.) It's possible the Diamants fell on hard times and ended up living in some sort of Jewish quarter instead (likely another city, as I don't think my fictional city has one), and from there struggled to ply their trade, possibly needing to resort to other, less-specialized work--perhaps selling secondhand, cheaply made jewelry--to make ends meet; I read about how Jews in the older ghettos often became pawnbrokers. Given how skilled and proud of their skills the Diamants were, I imagine such a downfall would chafe. But work is work and food must be put on the table. Even if they could no longer afford to purchase, design, and sell their own high-quality jewelry to their equally poor communities, they persisted in passing on the craft, for whenever times got better. For whatever reason--perhaps his age, perhaps his particular innate skills--this responsibility fell to Josef, and he became his father's apprentice, then journeyman, practicing with cheap stones and metals first, then repairing or repurposing midgrade jewelry obtained elsewhere, and at last designing and creating his own piece from scratch. It sells for a fine price, puts food on the table for a little while.

At a relatively young age, Diamant becomes a master jeweler who doesn't possess the goods needed to take it up as a profession; not a moment too soon as it turns out, as he then loses his remaining family, though I'm unsure how. The flu again? The Great War? Diamant doesn't go fight, though I can imagine male siblings of his doing so. His father is too old to go. It's likely a mix of factors occurring all around the same period that snuffs out the family, but whatever it is, it actually works in Diamant's favor, in that it breaks his ties to the old community and frees him to go ply his new trade elsewhere (he decides on the unnamed city of the story, loosely analogous to Berlin), with the family savings solely at his disposal (he invests in new tools and a decent selection of stones and metals, also taking along what his father left to him, and sets up shop in the decent middle-class area also occupied (later on) by the Bentzes and other small, specialized businesspeople). He's alone and grieving, yes. But he's also a businessman, and he's practical. Food must be put on the table. He learns early on how to shove down his emotions, put on a welcoming smile, sell himself as a skilled craftsman just as much as he sells his work. He also learns to keep everyone at a distance, because as the loss of his family proved, the closer you are to someone, the more it hurts when they're gone. Diamant has a brief fling here and there to scratch the itch, but he takes no wife, fathers no children, has no apprentice. He knows the family reputation, and name, will die with him. It's unfortunate, but that's just how it is. He needs to look out for himself first off.

Now, Frieda Orchudesch seems to have tossed a wrench into those plans.

Diamant shakes himself out of the odd mood he's in--convincing himself he's simply finished dealing with a particularly enthusiastic client--and resumes work as usual. A month or so later, however, the shop bell rings, and there she is again, bright red ringlets and big bright smile. Diamant almost doesn't even notice her father, she lights up the shop so much. He asks if there's a problem with the locket, has it broken?--does it need fixing? No, not at all--Herr Orchudesch explains that Frieda is so enamored of the locket that now she'd like a matching set--a ring, and earrings, to go along with it. Just as before, money is no issue, whatever his Liebchen wants, she'll get. Diamant says all he needs is designs and he'll get to work. Frieda beams from ear to ear and hands him some papers. She's already made the concept sketches. They're just as excellent as the original.

Lather, rinse, repeat. Diamant makes the earrings first, then focuses on the ring. Although he's expanded his skill set a bit to repairing and occasionally even making small clockworks--a skill he can fall back on if jewelry falls out of demand--rings are his true specialty, and he always takes extra care in creating them. He hums an old Yiddish folk song as he works, a rather superstitious habit he picked up from his father, who told him that rings have a special sort of power to them. Rings are oaths, not to be made or taken lightly, so he's never frivolous or hasty in creating them. He's always used his own designs for them before, as it seemed most suitable, other people often don't take such things as seriously as they should and he doesn't know others' intentions as well as he knows his own. This, though...this is different. He can tell Frieda's designs have some personal meaning to her, that she didn't draw them just to be pretty--the earring and ring designs match the locket so well. These are ideas she's obviously had in her head a long time. And she's just skilled enough to be able to put her ideas to paper so Diamant can interpret them adequately. He told the Orchudesches to give him a couple of weeks this time. When they arrive and he presents Frieda with her new jewelry, she beams just as brightly as before. She takes off her old earrings and puts on the new, then holds out her hand, fingers extended, and asks Diamant to place on the ring.

Diamant blinks in surprise, then feels the blood rush to his ears. Peers uneasily at Herr Orchudesch, but he's gazing at the glass displays, perhaps contemplating a purchase of his own. "Herr Diamant...?" Frieda prompts, and his eyes shift back to her; he tries to detect any guile in her face, yet can't, she just smiles and holds up her hand. He takes a breath and tells himself to stop being silly--it's her right hand, not the left, she just wants to admire her new ring, stop giving an unthinking yet innocent gesture any meaning--and takes the ring, sliding it carefully on her finger. She lifts her hand palm out and turns it this way and that--"Papa, look, it's perfect"--and Herr Orchudesch praises Diamant's work. Again, he's well paid, though he hardly thinks about the money as the two say their farewells and depart. This time he can't shake the feeling the encounter left with him. When he placed the ring on Frieda's finger, it felt like he was making an oath, and he can't tell whether she was in on it too, or not. He doesn't like not knowing. But he can't think of any other reason why she would request him to do that.

The third time she visits, she's alone, no Herr Orchudesch in sight. Diamant is reluctant to talk with her, though she insists her father knows where she is. "I've looked into you," she says, making him raise his eyebrows. She explains that she's learned he's not from there--"You're from Frankfurt"--and she had her father take her there for a visit, where she in fact spent her time finding out what she could about Diamant's family, which was once so well known there, yet then faded into obscurity. "I have something to show you," she says, and pulls a small package from her satchel, carefully unwrapping it and holding it out to him. It's a ring, yet not her ring; Diamant takes in a breath on seeing it and actually flinches back a little out of sheer surprise. "The dealer I bought it from said it was designed by a 'J. Diamant,'" Frieda says; "I wasn't sure if that was you or simply a relative of yours, but seeing the look on your face now..." She picks the ring up and holds it out; Diamant's eyes blur a little as he takes it and looks it over. "Can you tell me about it?" she asks, and he obliges.

"This was my final project as a journeyman," he murmurs, gently turning the ring in his fingers, "my first original design before I set out on my own. A commission...though it was hard to let it go. How did you find it? You said a dealer?" Frieda confirms, she found the ring in a secondhand shop, thought it looked like one of his designs, and asked about its provenance while making an offer. Diamant sadly surmises that the original owner must too have fallen on hard times and needed to put food on the table; it's a shame, but it happens. Something else Frieda said has caught his attention, though: "You thought it looked like my design--you're that familiar with my work?" he asks, confused. Frieda smiles and says, "I told you I've been looking into you."

It's an odd start, but this is how Diamant and Frieda Orchudesch meet and get to know one another. She puts his concerns at ease by assuring him that her father knows she's visiting him, she tells him everything, and he's fine with them being alone together, he trusts them both not to do anything inappropriate. Diamant isn't terribly conservative or old fashioned--he's Orthodox, and follows basic customs, yet doesn't attend synagogue often, and doesn't think much about religious matters--yet he really doesn't want any sort of unsavory accusation hanging over his head. All the women he's been involved with were unattached and not particularly observant themselves and weren't interested in relationships; no muss, no fuss. Frieda is obviously a respectable young woman from a respected--and wealthy--family: well bred, upper class, not a tradesman working family like his own. He knows he has to tread carefully around such people, and he knows that Herr Orchudesch likely intends for her to marry a nice respectable upper-class man, her equal or better. It doesn't matter what her actual reasons for visiting him may be; there's only one legitimate reason for a man and woman to be alone with each other, and he doesn't want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Frieda, for her part, doesn't do anything especially inappropriate at first; she likes simply to talk, and listen. She's curious about his family, his work, his plans for his life. Diamant isn't used to conversations but shoves down his confused feelings, puts on his best face, does the best he can. And Frieda sees right through him. She might come across as naive and spoiled and obsessed with superficial pretty things at a first glance, but she's actually quite sharp, and sees lots of fine details that others easily miss. It's the reason she learned to recognize Diamant's work so quickly, and how she can put her own designs on paper so effectively. She brings up the matter of her ring, and how she noticed the look he got while placing it on her finger; "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Herr Diamant," she apologizes, yet she doesn't offer any concrete explanation for her request, and Diamant has the distinct impression that all of this is intentional: Frieda knew exactly what she was doing when she asked him to place the ring. He hadn't wanted to admit it even to himself, yet he's attracted to her, and she's attracted to him as well.

Now that this particular intention is obvious, their meetings take on a slightly different tone. They still use polite titles, yet now refer to each other by their first names, like acquaintances. They still do nothing inappropriate, but something unspoken crackles in the air between them, and they often have to look away from each other, faces burning. Diamant tells Frieda about his family, their fall from fortune, his singlehanded effort to grasp some of that fortune back; Frieda tells him about what had once been her own dream, to be a professional violinist; he asks why this is no longer her dream, and she extends and flexes her right hand, smiling wistfully as she mentions an injury that made the dream no longer feasible. "I'm sorry," Diamant murmurs, knowing all too well how much one's livelihood can depend on their hands; Frieda replies that it could always be worse. Upon learning that she still has her old violin, he asks her to play it for him; she brings it with her on her next visit and obliges. Diamant, in all sincerity, says she sounds like a professional violinist to him; Frieda smiles ear to ear, saying, "This is why you're a jeweler and not a musician, Herr Josef, else you'd hear the difference. Still, I'll gladly accept the compliment."

Herr Orchudesch decides to commission a piece for himself; he has an old pocketwatch and, on learning that Diamant can refurbish it, requests him to do so. Frieda provides the sketch; "I have no eye for such things, I'm afraid," Herr Orchudesch says. As Diamant is examining the watch, Herr Orchudesch is silent a few moments, before venturing, "My daughter seems to enjoy the time she spends with you, I swear she's gone more often than she's at home." Feeling a spark of alarm, Diamant tries to keep a calm voice as he assures him that neither of them has tried anything improper. "I know, she tells me everything," Herr Orchudesch says, and it becomes clear he's not making any accusations; rather, he mentions how dispirited Frieda had been since being told she wouldn't ever take the stage, and nothing had managed to lift her spirits, until now: "She talks about you constantly. Like she once used to talk about the violin, and believe me, did she talk. Go figure!--I take her to get a pretty piece of jewelry to cheer her up, yet it's the jeweler she's interested in." Diamant offers to cut off communication with Frieda, still thinking Herr Orchudesch is hinting at him to back off, yet "Why would I want you to do that--?" he exclaims, "This is the happiest I've seen her in ages. There's just one thing I need to know, Herr Diamant," and he takes on a serious tone when he asks, "Are you interested in my daughter...?"

Diamant doesn't answer at first, though he's sure his emotions show on his face. "I ask," Herr Orchudesch continues, "because Frieda tells me everything...and she's told me she's interested in you. I don't want her heart broken again. Is the feeling mutual...?" This time Diamant pauses only slightly before saying, "It is." Herr Orchudesch says, "And so, do you have intentions for my daughter...?" To which Diamant replies, "Not without your blessing." Herr Orchudesch is silent a moment, appraising him, before smiling slightly and turning. "I look forward to seeing what you can do for my watch." Diamant speaks up before he can leave: "Herr Orchudesch...I'm not sure how much you know, but Fräulein Frieda looked my family up when you traveled to Frankfurt, to see what she might find out." Herr Orchudesch confirms this, she told him. "Then she must've told you that my family was nothing like yours," Diamant continues. "We did well for ourselves for a while, but we weren't like you, we made a living with our hands, manual work." He isn't sure how to put it without being offensive. Herr Orchudesch seems to understand his meaning, however--and doesn't seem to care. Hard honest work is hard honest work, whether it's lofty or down to earth; "All a man has, after all," he says, "is his word, and his hard work. Mein Liebchen wants and deserves the best. I trust her to make good decisions. Gute Nacht, Herr Diamant."

It appears Diamant has Herr Orchudesch's blessing to court his daughter. He tentatively broaches the subject when he meets her and she immediately says oh yes, they've already discussed it, and Diamant looks skyward, murmuring, "Well of course you have, you tell each other everything." "He did say you never gave him a direct answer about your intentions," she adds. Diamant is quiet for a moment, weighing his options, before deciding; he takes Frieda's right hand, removes the ring he made, and places it on her left ring finger instead. Frieda holds up her hand, turning it this way and that, and a small smile comes to her face; "It's perfect," she says.

Diamant had never really wanted marriage, a family, children; although lonely at times, he was used to it, and just assumed that was the path he was meant to follow. His craft was his life. Suddenly that's all turned upside-down, and he has mixed feelings; he doesn't regret his decision, but he does worry about losing his independence, not having enough time to focus anymore on the thing that matters most to him. Frieda quickly puts his fears to rest: They don't have to start a family immediately, there's plenty of time later, and she would never think of getting between him and his work; if anything, she'd like to run some design ideas by him, see what he thinks. He hadn't expected that she might take a role in the work herself--he's used to doing his own thing--yet her designs really are good, and she gives excellent advice. He starts warming to the idea of no longer being alone, of being one half of a whole. Losing a little bit of his independence doesn't seem so bad.

He and Frieda stroll through a secluded park late one evening, sit on a bench in the growing gloom to look out over the river, and nature takes its course. Yet again he expects wrath from Herr Orchudesch--Frieda tells him everything!--yet her father never says a word. Frieda reasons that they're already just about married, all that's needed is the ceremony to make it official, but their souls are already connected; there's nothing so wrong in it. His unease fades--by now he feels it's a given that soon, they'll be living together--and they steal away to be alone with each other when they can.

Germany...1930s. I really don't need to explain the atmosphere, do I...? Diamant notices when the swastika banners go up, when the laws start being passed, when his fellow Jewish shopkeepers start closing their shops and moving away. He hears about the ghetto which the poorer Jews are forced into at the other end of the city, and this strikes some bad memories for him, tales passed down through his family about similar times. He chafes, but doesn't argue, when he's told he must wear a yellow star whenever he's out in public. He hears of something called Arbeitslager--a work camp--being constructed at the city's edge, and all sorts of alarms go off inside him. Still--business is fine, he shoves down his worry, puts on a good face. Even for the sullen, swastika-clad youths who visit his shop to glance around and mutter a few slurs before going on their way. Diamant figures he'll discuss this matter with the Orchudesches and see what they should do. Maybe it would be most prudent to leave. Even though it'll sting badly to abandon the shop he set up from scratch. He started over once, he should be able to again. He's always been resilient.

He finishes up some projects, closes shop early one day, and sets out for Herr Orchudesch's place. He and Frieda live in a small but lavishly appointed house in a quiet, well-off neighborhood, a peaceful street lined with shade trees. The neighborhood has been getting quieter lately, what with the Jewish residents leaving. Diamant ascends the steps up to the door and reaches for the handle, only to abruptly pull his hand back--the door is cracked open already, and he can see it was knocked open by force. Alarm lighting up in him, he pushes it open and steps inside anyway. "Herr Orchudesch--?" he calls, "Frieda?" No one answers, but when he pauses, he hears what sounds like muted sobbing; he anxiously heads toward the sound.

In the parlor he finds a man huddled in the middle of the floor, head in hands, papers scattered in front of him, crying piteously. Diamant recognizes the Orchudesches's manservant and says, "Herr Heinrich--?" Herr Heinrich's head pops up with a gasp--"Herr Diamant!" he cries, and clambers to his feet, clasping his hands together. "I don't know who else I can talk to! I don't know what to do!" When Diamant asks him what happened, he says the Orchudesches are gone--he returned from an errand to find the door knocked in, and a neighbor claims she saw the police taking them away. "Police--? Why? To where--?" Herr Heinrich mentions them receiving a notice saying Herr Orchudesch had to divest himself of his business soon or face arrest--"The Jews, they aren't letting them work anymore, they keep telling them to work is illegal but what can they do?" As for where they were taken, he has no idea, but maybe the neighbor knows. "If only I'd come back just a little earlier, maybe I could've stopped this," he exclaims, and starts crying anew. Diamant tries telling him he couldn't have done anything, yet Herr Heinrich is insistent: "They sent me to fetch their ID papers, their papers that would let them leave the country. I was so close! If only I'd come back sooner!" He explains that the Nazi Party is cracking down on travel by Jews and they now require expensive documentation to be allowed to depart; the poorer Jews can't afford it, and it's getting difficult even for the richer Jews to obtain papers. Diamant is stunned to find out the Orchudesches were planning to leave already; "They were going to tell you, Herr Diamant," Herr Heinrich insists, "they wanted to get the papers first, just to be sure, then Fräulein Frieda was going to try to convince you to come with them. I got the papers! But I was too late!"

Diamant manages to calm him a bit, and heads over to the neighbor's. She's gentile but seems to sympathize--"I tried warning them this might happen, I don't know why they waited so long." When Diamant asks where they might have been taken, she peers uneasily to the city's edge. "That work camp, I imagine," she says, "though I can't be sure. You're one of them...? You might think of getting out while you still can, because I've heard nothing good about that place. I hear nobody ever leaves."

Diamant returns to Herr Heinrich and sits with him a bit, waiting for him to cry himself out, before venturing to ask him for a favor: Heinrich is German, he has much more freedom than Diamant, does he know anyone, anyone at all who works for the government? Even just the local government, a councilman or anything--someone who can tell him where the Orchudesches were taken. "They all work for the Nazis!" Herr Heinrich exclaims, "why would they want to help you?" But after a moment of pondering, he says he knows a city clerk he once went to school with, they meet for lunch once in a while, and although he had to swear an oath to the Party, he's privately grumbled about them; Heinrich isn't sure how helpful he'll be, but he can give it a try. Diamant tells him to direct the man to his shop if he has any info.

He returns to work, though he can barely focus, he agonizes so much over not knowing what's become of Frieda and her father. He glances toward the camp, but knows that going searching himself is out of the question; all it'll do is draw unwanted attention. Heinrich had asked if he too had gotten a notice like Herr Orchudesch got; Diamant hasn't yet, and would like to continue flying under the radar as long as possible. He keeps taking orders even though it's killing him inside to not know where the Orchudesches are.

The shop bell rings one day and Diamant goes up front to find a tall, slender, bespectacled man in a gray suit with a swastika pinned to his lapel; "Herr Diamant...?" he says in a mild, almost bored voice, and Diamant cautiously confirms it, suspecting he's connected to the Nazi youths who recently visited to poke around his shop. "I've heard you can repair watches," the man says, pulling out a pocketwatch; "I can," Diamant says, "though yours seems to be functioning properly." He then gasps and jerks back; without warning, the man slams the pocketwatch on the counter a couple of times, looks at it, and says, "Shame...I seem to have broken it." He holds it out again and Diamant gingerly takes it, not wishing to do anything to upset him, though as soon as he turns away the man says, "You have a back work area? I'd very much like to see it." Diamant asks why; he just likes to observe the work process, is all. Hoping that giving him a look around might get rid of him quicker, Diamant undoes the chain behind the counter and waves him forward. "Look around if you like," he says, and starts rummaging around in his drawers of supplies, seeking the pieces he needs to fix the watch. A moment or so passes, Diamant growing antsier each second, before the man says, "I was told you're looking for a couple of friends of yours."

Diamant stiffens, whirls around. "You're--" he says, but the man jerks a finger up to his mouth, cutting him off. "You've had any unexpected visitors lately...?" he says; Diamant starts to say no, then remembers the Nazi youths who looked around and bought nothing; he'd assumed it was an intimidation attempt, but it sure was a lousy one. The man sees the look on his face and taps his ear. Diamant heads back into the shop and starts looking around, checking under counters, behind displays. It takes him a few moments...but he finds it. A small listening device stuck under the edge of a shelf. He removes it, casts the man standing in the doorway a look, then crushes it under his shoe. He returns to the back room but shuts the door for good measure; he kept an eye on the youths, they hadn't entered the back of the shop, but he looks around a bit just in case.

The man confirms that he's Herr Heinrich's friend, who works in a city records office. He tells Diamant that the people in charge of the legal situation of the Jews are the Schutzstaffel, and he definitely does not work for them or have direct access to their records. He had to use his own connections--and a little old-fashioned palm-greasing--to find a record of what happened to the Orchudesches. They were both arrested and taken into SS custody, from there to be sent to the camps. Diamant asks if this means that at the city's edge; no, not that camp, as it doesn't take women and elderly people. Frieda Orchudesch was taken to a women's camp in another city. Diamant asks what happened then; the clerk replies, "The record says Fräulein Orchudesch was killed immediately after arriving."

All the air leaves Diamant's lungs. The news--his Frieda, his betrothed, his love, is gone, forever--is delivered so abruptly it hits him like a wall of bricks, and his knees buckle; he ends up on the floor. The clerk is silent a moment before saying, "I was told you were close...I'm sorry for your loss."

"She...she's, she was young and healthy...why would they kill her?" Diamant can barely manage to say.

The clerk shrugs and replies, "Maybe she wasn't strong enough for the type of labor involved. Maybe the person doing selections had a bad day. Maybe it rained when the sun should have shone. Who knows? The SS needs no reason to do anything."

Diamant still has to fight to find his voice: "Herr--Herr Orchudesch. What about him? What happened to him--?"

The clerk looks vaguely uncomfortable and tries to demur, suggesting maybe he shouldn't know, but Diamant insists, so he finally replies, "Herr Orchudesch was placed on a train to another camp out of the city. The train was delayed for several days. He'd died by the time it reached the camp."

And there, like that, it is--the Orchudesches are gone, as if they'd never been. Diamant feels his world crumbling. For the first time in his life he has no idea what to do; he's too stunned and numb even to cry. "I wish I had better news for you," the clerk says. "My advice, Herr Diamant?--leave the country while you're still able. Don't put it off, because it's only going to get worse. Now if you'll excuse me, I believe my favor here is done." As he turns to head out, Diamant mumbles, "Your watch." "I need to buy a new one anyway," the clerk says, and leaves.

Herr Heinrich visits shortly after. "I wanted to know what happened," he murmurs, and his eyes fill with tears. "The look on your face tells me." He starts weeping. "If only I got the papers to them in time." He tells Diamant that he's leaving, and urges him to do the same--"There's nothing left here for people like you and me; and they would have wanted you to escape, at least one good thing should come of all this"--then remembers he has something he wants to give Diamant. He takes it from his pocket and holds it out: Frieda's ring. Diamant nearly recoils--now, now his eyes flood with tears as it hits him, here's what started it all, here at the end of it. "They ransacked the house," Herr Heinrich says, "took all the valuables they could find. Yet they missed this...she must have taken it off when they weren't looking, and hid it in this little spot she used to hide things when she was a child...she must have hoped I would find it there." His voice breaks when he says Diamant should have the ring; Diamant hesitates, it feels wrong somehow to take it back, plus some tiny part of his brain feels almost like the ring is now cursed--yet Herr Heinrich insists, saying it was his once, and surely Frieda left it behind for him to have. Diamant reluctantly receives the ring and takes a breath as the tears start streaming down his face. It feels like the oath has been broken, somehow. He feels like he should have been there to keep them safe.

Herr Heinrich turns to leave. Before he can reach the door, however--a spark, a thought, crystallizes in Diamant's head--he looks up and quickly calls out, "The papers." Herr Heinrich stops and looks back. "You still have them?" Herr Heinrich nods and wipes his eyes--"If only I got them there in time!"--yet right now Diamant doesn't have time for more pointless weeping. He stands and approaches: "May I see them?" Herr Heinrich digs the papers out of his pocket and holds them out. Diamant unfolds them; they're similar to a passport, resembling some kind of temporary pass, with grainy photos upon them--his vision blurs seeing Herr Orchudesch's and Frieda's faces looking back at him and he has to blink it clear again--and much more detailed information than he's seen on similar documentation before; there's even a spot determining the amount of "Jewish blood" the holder possesses. An official seal with the SS emblem is stamped on them. Diamant examines them for a moment before asking Herr Heinrich, "May I keep these?--bitte?" Herr Heinrich hesitates briefly, seeming perplexed, but his eyes water once more--"They're useless now. You can have them"--he urges Diamant once more to leave, wishes him farewell, and exits.

Diamant wants nothing more than to break down sobbing over the loss, the life he almost had, the one person who understood him and he wanted to be with forever, the other half of his soul--yet that will accomplish nothing, when an idea has sparked in his head. He closes shop early and goes into the back, sitting down to study the ID papers. He doesn't just look at the information supplied; he examines the typeface used, how crisp or faded it is, whether the individual letters are broken or intact. The size, quality, texture, thickness, and color of the paper. The stock the photos are printed on, if it's matte or glossy. The colors and patterns of the ink in the background. The design of the border. The length and thickness of the lines upon which the information is printed. The signatures of the holders and the official who stamped the ID and what sort of ink was used. And especially the SS stamp atop it all. He even pulls out his jeweler's loupe to examine every single element in minute detail. Once he commits all these details to memory, he tucks the papers away among his client records and heads out to do some shopping.

Diamant visits various shops and studios, returns to the shop hours later with his arms full of supplies. Clears a spot at his jewelry workstation and starts pulling out papers and inks. A deliveryman arrives with a new typewriter. Diamant's first act is to start carefully carving a stamp; as a jeweler, he has a keen eye for the tiny details that everyone else misses until they're all put together; still, just to be sure, he consults the IDs as he works. Within the hour, he has a perfect, reversed replica of the official SS ID stamp.

Diamant hates even looking at the evil thing, and promptly shoves it away in a drawer, yet continues working. Of course, he wasn't able to obtain exact samples of everything he needs, a few times he had to settle for near matches. He works late into the night as if it's one of his jewelry projects, switching between brush and pen and typewriter, doing gentle washes in muted colors, fanning the paper dry, pressing it flat under books, drawing the most delicate lines and patterns, typing in the information, affixing the photo, and finally--the very last step--inking the stamp, dabbing most of the ink off, and pressing it against the paper. The seal appears faded and patchy, as if it's been used countless times, yet the double lightning bolts are obvious. Diamant sits a moment and stares at his new official ID papers granting him passage out of the German Reich. Then shoves them in the drawer with the stamp and wonders WTF he's doing.

He gives himself the night to sleep on it. The next day he makes some calls, asks for help tracking down an acquaintance whose name he's forgotten, maybe someone can help him, he's a friend of Heinrich's. He finally reaches the correct office where a secretary responds not with "I'm sorry, I have no idea who that is," but "I'm sorry, he's out of the office right now." Diamant leaves a message to stop by his shop later that evening for an urgent matter, reiterating that he's "a friend of Heinrich's." Then resumes his regular work as he waits.

Just before closing time, after his last customer for the day leaves, the shop bell again rings. Diamant heads to the front. The city clerk is standing at the counter, a sour look on his face. "I was under the distinct impression our dealings were concluded," he says crossly. "And yet here you are, calling around and putting my job in jeopardy. I shouldn't have even bothered giving you the time of day for such negligence. Now tell me what you want before I reconsider my decision to come here." Diamant brushes off his warnings, presenting him with the ID papers; the clerk looks them over, blinks, and exclaims, "You took my advice--? Excellent, excellent, this is a wise choice you won't regret, Herr Diamant, trust me. Just take it to the appropriate office and you should be on your way. Remember to pack light, they won't let you take much."

Diamant lets out a breath. "It's convincing, then--?" he asks, feeling a surge of hope for the first time in ages. "If you were the one checking it, you'd let me through?" The clerk blinks again, furrows his brow--"What are you talking about?--you mean this..."--and then looks at the papers again. Squints, lifts his spectacles, holds them inches from his face, studies them. "This is a fake--?" he exclaims, and looks at Diamant, aghast. "What are you thinking?? Forging government documents and showing them to me! Are you mad?? Are you trying to get us both killed--??"

Diamant manages to calm the clerk down a bit, explaining that he's not asking him to accept the ID as genuine or even to help get him out of the country. He just needs to know if it's convincing enough to fool a clerk with his level of experience, and what about it might be improved. The clerk very reluctantly admits it's the most clever forgery he's seen, and clarifies that there are small variations between IDs, enough to likely account for whatever tiny inaccuracies exist in Diamant's copy. (Diamant had hoped as much, but wasn't sure.) The SS seal and signatures are the most important elements. Once he has this information, Diamant does make one final request: If he or one of his fellow clerks who deal with processing applications for such IDs ever hear of any parties who aren't able to obtain one, to direct them to come to his shop. The clerk, immediately understanding his intent, protests--"I won't endanger myself or my family any further by perpetrating a scam! Have you no idea how powerful the SS is? If they catch you forging their seal, they'll put you in a camp for certain!"--yet Diamant insists he's not asking him to participate in the scheme...just to point people in his direction. He won't need to sign or verify or fake anything at all. The clerk's resolve falters; after a brief hesitation, he says simply, "I have to go now," and heads for the door. "If you try contacting me again," he adds at the door, "I will not respond," and leaves.

Time passes. Diamant gets to know his neighboring shopkeepers, the BENTZES, and even strikes up a business arrangement with them; like him, they tend to keep to themselves, though Frau Bentz admits she's worried about his welfare. Diamant isn't sure how trustworthy or not they are, so keeps his own counsel; at the very least, he figures he's shielding them from whatever misfortune might come his way. He gets lost in thought while working on his projects, mulling over how to get word out that he's trying to offer help to those attempting escape; having so few connections to society is suddenly quite a hindrance. He starts to figure his plan must be shelved, and instead broods over a feeling of unfinished business, of letting the Orchudesches down. He'd wanted so much to do SOMETHING to set things right.

His bell rings one day and he's rather surprised when a family of five enters--surprised, because their attire and appearance is rather shabbier than the rest of his regular clientele. The man meekly addresses him, "We...we were told you're offering a bargain...?" Diamant frowns, says, what? The man falters, looks ready to leave then and there, yet the woman speaks up instead. Reiterates that they were informed that Diamant is offering a bargain. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, I'm not having any sale," Diamant says, increasingly confused, "Are you sure you have the right shop?"--because these people look like they'd never be able to afford anything he's selling. "You're Herr Diamant, ja--?" the woman insists, growing desperate; "We were told you're offering a bargain. A deal on custom items--personalized, for each of us. Bitte, we're willing to pay, everything we have."

"I'm sorry," Diamant says, bewildered; "I do custom work, ja, but I'm afraid I'm having no--" And then the phrase hits him. Personalized, for each of us. He blinks. "Custom items," he says, and looks at the woman, who's staring back pleadingly. "How many custom items?" he asks, just to be sure, and when she says, "Five," he undoes the chain and gestures for them to follow him into the back.

In privacy, Diamant listens as the couple tell him they tried to apply for IDs to leave the country, but couldn't afford the fees. The clerk seemed to notice their distress, and quietly told them that if they were willing to take a risk, to look up a jeweler's shop called Diamant's, and ask the proprietor if he was offering a deal on "custom items"; if all else failed, they could say that "Heinrich" sent them. They were on their own from there, no guarantees. Diamant tells them all the info he'll need to do the job--the woman has already gathered it, when applying for the actual IDs--and he takes it. He asks if they have any place to stay for a day or two as he prepares the papers; they say yes, and he instructs them when to return. He waves off the woman's offer of payment, saying they can settle that once they have the IDs in their hands.

Diamant toils over five sets of papers. Keeps the clerk's comments in mind, focusing mainly on the officials' signatures and the SS stamp, though also putting minute detail into the rest. When the family returns he gives them the papers but cautions them that he's never done this before, so he can't guarantee the clerks will be fooled; he's done his best, but they're still taking a huge risk. If they want to back out, he won't charge them anything. They hesitate only briefly before the woman says that they can either take a risk which might result in their incarceration/death, or do nothing at all and definitely meet the same fate. They'll take their chances. Diamant takes his payment--promising it'll go toward purchasing supplies for more IDs--and wishes them luck.

It's sheer agony in the following days, wondering and not knowing if the ruse worked. Yet then one afternoon a messenger arrives with a telegram. It's vague and brief, but the sender wants him to know they've reached their vacation home safely, and thanks for the help. They leave no names, just "Heinrich's friends."

Thus begins Diamant's new job, moonlighting as a document forger. At the start, he can easily recognize these clients when they arrive--they're always poorer than his jewelry clients--yet as time goes on, even better-off Jews, with income similar to his, start arriving. He can only assume that not only are sympathetic clerks passing along the word, but his reputation is also being spread by word of mouth; with this comes the increased risk of him being found out, yet he keeps at it. Without fail, the people he helps urge him to leave the country as well, get out while he can, yet he remains behind. Every ID he forges is another life possibly saved, another mark on the tally his mind is keeping; he doesn't know how many of their lives he'll need to save before he'll make up for Frieda's and her father's lives, no amount ever feels like enough to wipe the slate clean. He knows that the more IDs he forges, the longer he stays, the closer to disaster he brings himself, yet he just keeps at it; he'd hoped for some kind of redemption, yet nothing he does ever seems good enough, nothing ever closes the wound.

He never does find out who tips off the authorities. Maybe someone planted another bug? He does his best to be careful, he never keeps records of THOSE clients, he gets them in and out quickly. Is it a suspicious neighbor? A spy posing as a client? A clerk caving in under pressure or threats? A flaw or mistake in one of his own forgeries? He doesn't know, and frankly it doesn't matter. A military truck full of Party members and SS officials pulls up out front of his shop one bizarre day as windows are getting smashed along the street, and he's hauled into his back room. They tear through his client records, they pummel him with their fists and kick him with their boots, they jab his jeweler's files into his arms and take the jeweler's torch to his chest, but he insists he knows nothing about any forgeries. They almost break him, but keeping Frieda's face in his mind, her bright ear-to-ear smile, fuels his hatred, and hatred is stronger than fear. His shop is torn apart and set afire, he's dragged out and tossed into the truck, he's driven to the rail yard.

It makes no sense, he thinks, and the other men, strangers, crowded in the car with him murmur the same thing. They know where they're going. The camp just at the city's edge. But why like this, when the truck could take them? And why is it taking so long? One of them, a slightly older man, says the waiting is the point--there are ways to torture someone without laying a finger on them, simply by driving them mad with the waiting, the anticipation of a dreadful fate that never quite comes, except that's just it, that's the dreadful fate. The train is deliberately stalled. They're deliberately taking their time. Everything about this is deliberate, even accidents, because every dead Jew is just one less mouth to feed. Diamant recalls Herr Orchudesch's fate--dying slowly in a stalled train car--and wonders if his will be the exact same fate.

It isn't. Eventually the train starts moving again, a lengthy circuitous route, before arriving at the camp. Everyone is marched along a ramp--so much yelling--a uniformed man casts them each a quick glance, shouts "Left" or "Right." Every so often, a burst of gunfire sounds from the direction of those who are sent "left." The captives flinch, the guards don't. Diamant remembers what he was told of Frieda's death, and wonders, as he moves up the line, if that's to be his fate. The guard doing selections glances up at him, makes a face--"Right!"--and Diamant is shoved out of the line and toward a long building nearby.

A bored-looking SS officer is leaning against the building outside the door, arms crossed, cigarette in mouth; he simply watches as the men are herded inside, told to strip--Diamant's ears burn with humiliation as he does so--and directed toward the showers. Diamant's heard the rumors; he stands under the shower head, trying not to shake, hears a loud hiss, gasps when something explodes from it just over his head--then shudders--it's water, cold water, but just water nonetheless. The prisoners quickly wash themselves, shuffle into another room, are given striped clothes to wear. Another room, their heads shaved and their arms tattooed--Diamant grimaces both times, all the unnecessary added humiliation. Their personal details are entered in a ledger; Diamant sees his fellows having quick photographs taken, but for some reason no one calls his name. Then, badges quickly stitched to their shirts; Diamant receives a green-and-yellow Judenstern. The man affixing it to him is also in stripes and colored badge; "What does it mean?" Diamant asks, "Means you're a criminal, and a Jew," the other prisoner replies, "same difference to these folks."

He's sent back out, made to get in another line in the muddy yard--roll call--work and barracks assignments--waking, meals, and sleeping times--rules and regulations. A loud-voiced officer yells this all out at them as they stand at attention, the bored-looking officer beside him, looking everyone over. Diamant feels a twinge of surprise when the yelling officer introduces the camp commandant--who isn't him. He indicates the bored-looking man, and says, "All of you may refer to him as Mein Herr, or Herr Dannecker."

I've outlined some of Diamant's stay in the labor camp in previous entries. His cautious friendship with fellow prisoners Lukas Mettbach and Arno Spiegel. How he makes the mistake of standing up to Dannecker, then finds out the hard way just how formidable the unassuming-looking Obersturmbannführer is, once he declares Diamant his "pet project." How being a pet project perfectly encapsulates what he learned on the train, that you can break a person without even laying a finger on them; Commandant Dannecker is an expert at psychological warfare, especially the use of Russian roulette. How he's not above using plain old physical torture, too--jamming a jeweler's file into Diamant's right hand and twisting it around, shredding the nerves. How Diamant finds himself scheming again, another wild and reckless plan, knowing that if he doesn't get out of there, Dannecker will either kill him, or make him kill himself. How the plot involves persuading the commandant's stepdaughter, Gret, to help him, and the particular ruse they use to trick Dannecker into letting down his guard, with Gret asking him for a gift, a piece of jewelry. Dannecker just happens to know a jeweler, once the best jeweler in the city. He has Diamant brought to him. He commissions him to make a ring.

...

Frieda isn't a character I made in her own right; she was originally intended to fill a simple role in Diamant's life, that of soulmate. As leader of the Diamond Network, Diamant helps bring Inga Dobermann into hiding; separated from her family and lonely, she kisses him, but he refuses to let it go any further--even though it's obvious he's fallen in love with her. He knows her husband is her true soulmate, and he knows how it hurts to lose half of your soul; when explaining what happened to Dobermann, he starts to mention how he suspects Dobermann must not like him, including for his race; Dobermann cuts in with "Not like you--? I HATE you! I hate you for breaking up my family. I hate you for taking my wife from me and our daughter. I don't give a damn what you are, I'd still hate you. Now get out of my house!"

The comments sting--but Diamant isn't offended. He understands that the hate comes from the hurt. Dobermann just admitted a pretty big and important truth that's been hazy up until now: He doesn't care if someone, including Inga, is Jewish or German or what. He loves her just the same, and hates Diamant for separating him from his soul. Diamant determines to not only never get in the way of that, but to reunite the family as soon as he's able. It means he'll end up alone...but Inga isn't his to have.

The Dobermanns are indeed reunited at the war's end, and spend a blissful final year or so together before Dobermann sacrifices himself in the Alpine Fortress. Diamant tries to save him, but Dobermann, knowing he'll just end up pulling him down with him, hits his hand and forces him to let go. His final words to Diamant: "Look after her." He's known about Diamant's feelings for a long time, but never hated him for that. It's quite a while before Inga learns of her husband's last request, as Diamant never tells her; she learns it from Lukas. Diamant reaffirms his feelings for her when she visits him about it; the two begin a cautious relationship. They never marry, but remain devoted to each other until Inga's death around a decade later, from early-onset dementia (she confuses Diamant for Dobermann, telling him she loves him, then in a brief moment of lucidity, adds, "I love you, Josef"); Diamant never partners with anyone else, though he continues to treat the Dobermanns' daughter, Adelina, as if she's his own. He commissions a sculpture for their graves: Louis Dobermann with a cross, Inga Dobermann with a Star of David, holding each other's hand and gazing at each other.

In "In Heaven," Inga and Dobermann are reunited at last. But who is there for Diamant to meet...? My initial idea for the unnamed Frieda, in life, was for them to meet similarly to how it's described here, yet she tells him she's leaving the country, and she'll wait for him; after the war, he never goes looking for her, and they never meet again. This didn't sit well with me; Diamant wouldn't have left someone hanging like that. He had to have a good reason to never meet her again...the only way he'd never go seeking her is if she's not alive anymore. Frieda's story came into being as I wrote this up, and I learned not only who Diamant's soulmate is, but his own history too, and his ultimate motivation for taking the path he does, endangering himself up to the very end so he can help others. It isn't solely altruism that motivates him; it's hatred for the SS, and guilt over his past failure to save half of his own soul.

Ironically, Dr. Schäfer describes Diamant to Sgt. Gerhardt as having "sold half his soul to the devil," following his murder of Dannecker--who was known as "Der Teufel"--and escape from his camp. In effect, he's "become" Dannecker. Gerhardt also notices all the similarities Diamant shares with members of the SS, telling him in a moment of anger that he and his enemy, Lt. Hesse, are merely two sides of the same coin. Diamant even disguises himself in an SS uniform. This is a harsh truth it takes Diamant a long time to accept, that in his efforts to set things right, he ends up radicalizing himself to be nearly indistinguishable from what he hates most. He isolates himself for a while following the war (the others believe he was captured and killed), before meeting the Dobermanns again.

Diamant must intentionally wipe Frieda from his mind for a time. In "In Heaven," people (who don't go through purgatory, or already did) first meet with the person their soul calls out to the most. For example, Otto Himmel meets his wife Dagmar; Hesse meets Sophie; Teal Rat, abandoned by his family, meets a stranger who heard his soul call out in loneliness. Diamant doesn't meet Inga, he meets...Dannecker. It's utterly shocking for him to meet his old tormentor again this way, and for a moment he thinks he must be in Hell although he doesn't believe in it. Dannecker explains that the one your soul calls out to isn't necessarily your soulmate or even your friend; it's the person to whom you were most closely connected when you died, for better or worse. Schäfer's assessment of him wasn't too far off the mark, that in the absence of half his soul (metaphorically speaking, probably), something needed to fill the void, and what filled it was hate. Maybe, if Diamant had let it fade rather than fester, his soul would have healed sooner, and called out to the one it really wished to see. Dannecker says, better late than never; then lifts his head and looks at something behind Diamant. There she must be now, he says, the person Diamant truly wanted to meet. Diamant looks, and finds Frieda Orchudesch coming his way, smiling ear to ear. Stunned and confused, he glances back, yet Dannecker is gone. Frieda is still there, though, and she smiles up at him, saying, "I've been waiting for you."

See also HERR ORCHUDESCH'S ENTRY.

[Frieda Orchudesch 2024 [‎Friday, ‎August ‎16, ‎2024, ‏‎12:00:08 AM]]

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond! Cast: Tekno the Canary

Replaces: Spectacular Spider-Man Origin: Sonic the Comic

"After helping stop Prime Sonic from getting killed and causing a multiversal collapse, I'm open to helping keep the further multiverse stable with you. I'm happy to be along for the ride!"

Tekno is a character from Dimension STC-1993, who has quite the dab hand in inventing, just like Tails. She used to be working under the Robotnik of her universe, but kept stealing his resources for her own use, landing her in constant trouble.

When she was sent to the Badnik Processing Plants, however, a special Badnik named Shortfuse rescued her from the troops transporting her, and in return, she improved his Megatal armour and helped him take down a Chemical Plant factory AND the twisted Metamorphia.

After enough time, she eventually allied with the Freedom Fighters to apply her tech knowledge to an heroic cause, and even befriended Amy along the way. After Robotnik's empire fell, she allied with Amy more to stop various criminals, and was later sought out by the mysterious Ring of Eternity for her efforts.

Two of her more recent endeavours were helping stop Robotnik from draining Mobius's life force and causing an environmental collapse, and later being one of the few outright challenging Exetior's rule, which later caused the arch-demon to give up and restore the planet to the way it was.

One of her most praised achievements, however, was helping save the ENTIRE multiverse alongside the original Sonic, from the likes of the SSSSS Squad, Scourge, Sleet and Dingo, and even Dark Oak. She even saved her own Sonic from harm's way after he was captured, and his twisted Super form planned to be used against the original blue blur.

Her efforts managed to inspire EV!Sonic when they crossed paths, which led to them allying up and forming the Quill Society together as a way to keep the multiverse outside of the base dimension safe and stable. This also means rounding up any villains that are causing trouble outside of their own dimensions for sorting out.

Like OMT!Tails, the Quill Society has a policy in place where villains are not kept captive for longer than needed. For select cases like Sark here, who's imprisoned for what EV!Sonic states as "unspeakable war crimes that are truly unspeakable" (since I ain't saying his TRULY unforgivable deeds here), they face erasure shortly following their capture.

However, for the majority of the guys captured, they are instead prepared for being sent back home, due to the Quill Society having concerns about dealing with a villain without that world's Sonic. Therefore, killing or long-term imprisonment is a no-go.

The villains in question come from all sorts of areas, ranging from Dr. Qwark from Dimension AO-1992, Sir Fuzzy-Logik in that chamber, and even villains from adaptations of the games, like that ridiculously-small Robotnik from the Game Gear Sonic Spinball. As you can tell from Sunky's expression, literally nobody takes that pint-sized Egghead's threats seriously, considering he's inside a pod inside a dang capsule.

Tekno was one of several to be clearly wary of Lost Memory Sonic's behaviour, and was on OMT!Tails's side when the truth about the "canon event" theory came out. As such, she and Fleetway Amy allied up to help apprehend the selfish version of the blue blur and give OMT!Tails a boost in disrupting the intentions of letting OMT!Cream die to Crimtake. Safe to say, they gladly succeeded in that area.

Oh, yeah. One more thing I can bring up:

OMT!Tails: Hey.

Speedy: Hey. ... It's rude to stare, kid.

OMT!Tails: So, er, what's with Speedy and that altered Emerl suit?

Pana: Birdbrain was causing some chaos in one of the dimensions. Took me and mini Amy here to apprehend him and bring him here.

SS!Amy: Sure I bonked him the best, Pana.

Speedy: You two idiots kidding?! During my escape, I tripped! You heroes just got off lucky.

OMT!Tails: So how many missions have you guys been on together?

SS!Amy: Well, not too many.

Pana: With Mina? A... couple dozen?

OMT!Tails: Wait, what? (a little jealous) Ah, that's cool.

(Cell sprites by RaulHedgeBomber)

[heavenboy09]

Happy Birthday 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 To You

This Legendary Actor Needs No Introduction But You All Should Him Very Very Very Well

Especially The Ladies. Calm Yourselves now.

Anyway

He is an American actor and musician. He is the recipient of multiple accolades, including a Golden Globe Award and a Screen Actors Guild Award, and has been nominated for three Academy Awards and two BAFTA awards.

He was born on June 9, 1963, in Owensboro, Kentucky, the youngest of four children of waitress Betty Sue Depp (née Wells; later Palmer) and civil engineer John Christopher Depp. His family moved frequently during his childhood, eventually settling in Miramar, Florida, in 1970. His parents divorced in 1978 when he was 15, and his mother later married Robert Palmer, whom Him has called "an inspiration".

He made his feature film debut in the horror film A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) and appeared in Platoon (1986), before rising to prominence as a teen idol on the television series 21 Jump Street (1987–1990). In the 1990s, He acted mostly in independent films with auteur directors, often playing eccentric characters. These included Cry-Baby (1990), What's Eating Gilbert Grape (1993), Benny and Joon (1993), Dead Man (1995), Donnie Brasco (1997), and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998). He also began his longtime collaboration with the director Tim Burton, portraying the leads in the films Edward Scissorhands (1990), Ed Wood (1994), and Sleepy Hollow (1999).

In the 2000s, He became one of the most commercially successful film stars by playing Captain Jack Sparrow in the Walt Disney swashbuckler film series Pirates of the Caribbean (2003–2017). 

In 2012, He was one of the world's biggest film stars, and was listed by the Guinness World Records as the world's highest-paid actor, with earnings of US$75 million in a year.

PLEASE WISH THIS ICONIC HEARTTHROB OF A MULTI TALENTED ACTOR & MUSICAN OF MANY UNIQUE SKILLS OF THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY

A VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊

YOU KNOW HIM

AND ALL THE LADIES SEEMS TO LOVE HIM. DANG NAB YOU MAN. WATCH YOUR WOMAN, THERE MEN. HE MIGHT STEAL HER 😆 JK

THE 1 & THE ONLY

MR. JOHN CHRISTOPHER DEEP AKA JOHNNY DEEP AKA THE INFAMOUS CAPTAIN JACK SPARROW 🐦 🏴‍☠️☠

HAPPY 60TH BIRTHDAY 🎂 🥳 🎉 🎈 🎁 🎊 TO YOU MR. DEEP & HERE'S TO MANY MORE YEARS TO COME.

& DONT FORGET. HE'S CAPTAIN JACK ☠ 🏴‍☠️ SPARROW, SAVVY 😉

#JohnnyDeep #CaptainJackSparrow #EdwardScisscorhands #DonnieBrasco #21JumpStreet

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Down By The Docks

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Word Count: 1810

This is inspired by another request, from an anon this time.

The idea is a '40's AU. I wasn't totally sure if that meant they wanted a story totally set in the 1940's or something that just didn't reference the war, or pretended the war wasn't on/our characters aren't involved in the war, so I just picked one.

Hope this is what you wanted anon!

-------------

Bucky Barnes was one of the best looking fellas Y/n had ever laid eyes on, of that he was sure. It was only his second day working down on the docks, but he was sure he could happily spend the rest of his life working this menial job if the view never changed.

He was always quick with a smile for a pretty dame or even, Y/n had noticed, a particularly handsome fella.

Y/n had thought for sure he had imagined seeing his 'impressing a pretty dame' smile aimed at the bloke who had delivered a sack of letters to the area they were working in.

He would have written it off as the heat getting to him if not for that very same smile being directed his way later that day while they were all sitting around eating their lunches.

None of the other's seemed to have picked up Bucky's brazen flirting with both genders, or maybe they just didn't care. That last one seemed pretty unlikely though.

Y/n just hiked up a brow at Bucky the second time he shot him that pretty smile. He had no idea what to do with that. It couldn't be helped that it was illegal to be that way, that was just the way of the world.

--------------

Y/n was sure that Bucky was trying to kill him.

He had shown up to work wearing his standard work wear. Just the worn whites and browns of clothes that had been washed too many times but that you couldn't afford to throw out yet.

It just wasn't fair that the day was particularly warm, so everyone had ended up stripped down to their pants. All those half naked male bodies glimmering with sweat, the noises they made unconsciously as they lifted boxes full of cargo and moved them to where they needed to go.

And right there, in the middle of it all, Bucky Barnes. Poor Y/n had ended up being sent home from being 'affected by the sun'. It wasn't his fault dammit, Bucky had been parading around looking good enough to eat. Y/n was ashamed to find himself literally walking into poles and walls in his preoccupation with the half naked Bucky.

----------

Y/n sighed in relief. Tonight was going to be blessedly free of one Bucky Barnes, perpetual thorn in his gay side.

He was going out to a bar. It was an open secret that this particular bar was a gay bar. The cops in that area were happy to turn a blind eye to it largely because several of them were known regulars there.

That didn't mean you could just go about talking about it, or anything that went on inside it while you weren't there.

It was still illegal after all.

Y/n leaned back into his booth and sighed happily. A nice drink, some eye candy that wouldn't beat the crap out of him just for giving them the eye, and a little dancing ought to make his worries just float away.

Y/n had been looking forward to this all week.

Damn Barnes to hell and back.

Y/n moved over to the bar to order himself something silly. He was feeling the need for some ridiculousness tonight.

He had just taken his first sip of his drink when he spotted him. There he was, standing by the bar just a little ways down from Y/n, seemingly ordering a drink.

Y/n tried valiantly to not spit his mouthful of booze all over the bar. He had paid good money for that drink and he would be damned if he wasted it.

It didn't work very well. Some of it ended up coming out of his nose, and as he hacked up the parts of it that went down the wrong pipe to choke him, the rest dribbled down his chin.

'Well, that was attractive,' Y/n thought drily.

"Oh gosh, are you alright? Here, let me help."

Y/n turned watering eyes on the man addressing him.

He was met with a short blond who looked like a stiff wind could knock him over if he wasn't careful.

He was holding out a handkerchief and looking unsure of himself.

Y/n went to reassure the stranger that he was fine, but some small remaining part of the drink that hadn't been attempting to kill him before chose that moment to do so. Instead of words, he could only hack and cough, trying to get the liquid out of his lungs.

Y/n felt a hand on his back moving in firm circles, trying to help. He looked back over at the man to find him at his side frowning as he rubbed at Y/n's back.

When Y/n could finally speak properly he took the handkerchief, which had once again been offered, to clean his face of tears and spit and snot.

'Who'd have thought that alcohol burned so badly going into a person's nose and lungs?' Y/n thought disgustedly.

When he had cleaned himself up properly and turned back to his savior he suddenly realised he had no idea how to make this situation any less awkward.

The other man apparently had no such reservations.

"I'm Steve by the way. That looked pretty painful. Are you okay now?"

He was so earnest, and it didn't look like he was laughing at Y/n at all, so he could only nod vaguely.

"Yeah, I was just surprised by something. I'm Y/n, just so you know."

Y/n paused, feeling every bit as awkward as he ever had.

"Um, after that bit of excitement, I think I'm gonna call it a night. Murderous drinks aside it was nice meeting you. Can I clean this and bring it back here some time for you Steve?"

Y/n held up the thoroughly soaked handkerchief, cringing internally.

"Oh, don't worry about it, but are you sure you don't want to stay for a little bit longer? I'm here with my friend, but he's never very good company when there's dancing and alcohol involved."

Y/n mulled it over for a second, before manners kicked in.

"Yeah, no worries. I could stay for a bit longer, if only to save you from a lonely evening."

Steve's smile was sweet, but Y/n also couldn't detect anything else behind it. It didn't seem like he was trying to hit on Y/n, just that he didn't want to spend the night alone while his 'friend' danced the night away.

Y/n followed behind Steve as he led him over to the booth that Y/n had originally been sitting in.

Y/n stopped still at the sight of who was sitting across from Steve. Bucky dang-it-all-to-heck Barnes.

At their approach, Bucky turned away from the two women sitting with him in the booth. His handsome face lit up when he registered who it was standing in front of him.

"Stevie, there you are. I was starting to think you ditched me earlier than ever, but look what you found. I should bring you here more often."

Steve just gave Bucky a blank look.

Y/n couldn't blame him. If his 'good friend' had taken him out for a night of fun, he wouldn't have appreciated him looking at other guys that way either. He wasn't exactly backward in letting people know he was interested from the sounds of it.

Y/n stood awkwardly by the booth, not really sure if he should still be there. He had followed Steve to keep him company, but if it were him in Steve's shoes right now, he'd want him to leave.

"Um, I think I should probably head off actually."

Steve turned back to Y/n looking confused.

"Oh, well if you're sure. You don't have to stay if you don't want to of course."

Y/n refused to acknowledge the fact that Bucky was honest to goodness pouting. Was there anything in this world that was fair?

"Well, at least let me walk you out."

There would be no arguing apparently, as Bucky was already out of his seat and herding Y/n to the door.

"It was nice meeting you!" Y/n barely managed to turn to yell to Steve as he was pulled away by the ever insistent Bucky.

Once they made it outside Bucky paused and turned to face Y/n.

"Hey."

Y/n turned to face him.

"Gotta say, I'm gettin' a bit confused here."

Y/n frowned but stayed silent.

"When we met at work I thought you were pretty cute, but you don't hit on people down by the docks if you wanna live to see the next sunrise, you know? But then you were always starin' an I thought, maybe you mighta been interested. Then that day you kept walkin' into things happened and I was pretty dang sure you were."

Y/n was blushing by now.

'Great so he did notice.'

"But then I see you here."

Bucky had moved closer and lowered his voice, speaking softer.

"An, no offense to Stevie, but he's not exactly every guys dream-boat. You know, I don't even think he knows this is a gay bar."

He broke off here to chuckle quietly. He was standing so close, he was practically pressing Y/n up against the wall of the bar.

"But then you're actin' all stand-offish. Like you can't even bare to look at me. So, what's a guy to think?"

Bucky seems to realise how this might be coming across and pulls away to give Y/n some room.

"Do I got a shot with you Y/n?"

Y/n had been floating somewhere dreamy with Bucky pressed up so close to him, but when he pulled away, reality came crashing down. How dare he ask questions like that when Steve was in there waiting for him to get back?

"You got some nerve Barnes. You can't just ask anyone out. Not when you got a fantastic guy like that waiting for you in there!"

"Fantastic guy? What-"

Y/n cut him off before he could sweet talk his way out of this.

"Steve! He's sweet, and kind and probably way too good for someone who flirts with everyone on the block!"

Bucky was laughing, which Y/n thought was way out of line.

"Wha, Y/n, Steve's just a friend. He don't even swing that way."

Y/n's face lit up with the brightest blush he had ever felt. He was sure he was going to actually self-combust before long.

"Oh."

"Yeah. So is that why you looked at me like that?"

He moved closer again, and when he spoke that damned silver tongue was back.

"I would never. When I'm with someone, they're the most important person in the world to me. Besides, how could I ever look my ma in the face again if I treated my partner like that?"

Y/n blushed fiercely.

"So whaddya say? Give me a shot?"

Y/n could only nod, face still a brilliant red.

[bokettochild]

The Scarf Fic!!!

Inspired by This post by @sekiumiarashi and written as a gift for @into-the-linkverse

I wanted to write Ravio sharing scarves, but I accidentally found that I like writing Ravio, and more importantly, writing him and Legend like they’re a pair of elderly people, because... just because.

Giving Legend glasses was a choice that I didn’t see coming, but do not regret. I do regret Ravio’s naming scheme, but it was too funny to back out so I kept pushing. I’m not sorry that you all must suffer.​

Feel free to read this as being part of my main fic The Ties That Bind, but it can also be separate, just consider the uncle bit as being related to predecessors and stuff.

Enjoy! :)

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir wasn’t wearing his scarf.

 The one constant Ravio knew he could always count on during the war, was that the captain would be wearing that bright blue scrap of cloth with all the pride in the world, no matter what the circumstances (good grief, one time he’d stumbled upon the man bathing and the scarf had been the only thing that saved them both from embarrassment). But today, he wasn’t.

 The heroes had come to stay at Mr. Hero’s house again after a long battle, and Mr. Captain Hero Sir was currently sitting on the couch in the living room, one arm resting across it’s back and his feet propped up on the table. A scowl marred his fine features and his neck was horrifyingly naked.

 “Mr. Captain Hero Sir! Where is your scarf?” The words were out of his mouth in a moment as he looked around the captain to make sure it simply hadn’t fallen off or been laid aside (things the captain would never let happen, ever. He’d once been bleeding out and still managed to keep the trailing blue fabric out of the mud.)

 “It’s shredded.” The captain sighed, a bitter look in his eyes as he motioned down to the arm hanging from a sling around his neck. “And I’m currently unable to mend it.”

 The thought of the captain not having a scarf was so utterly horrible, simply unthinkable, that Ravio didn’t even think about what he was doing, instead bounding over to plonk himself onto the couch and quickly unwind his scarf before rewinding it around the captain’s neck (he had a dozen of these things anyway).

 “There! You can’t be without a scarf.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir smiled fondly, fingers reaching up to gently stroke the fabric. “And you can?”

 Ravio shrugged. “I have a dozen of those, keep it, it looks fabulous on you!”

 The captain’s eyes sparkled brightly, a familiar cockiness erupting within. “Are you kidding? I make everything look good! Even the Vet’s fashion choices would look fabulous on me!”

  Ravio sniggered. He’d heard and seen plenty of the goods from Hytopia, and he wasn’t entirely sure that Mr. Hero even knew what fashion was. But then again, he was just a simple Lolian; for all he knew, things like bomb outfits and heart shaped collars were absolutely acceptable and normal in this world.

 “But where is your scarf, Mr. Captain Hero Sir?” He asked after a moment, cocking his head on one side as the man looked at him oddly.  

 “Don’t you ever get tired of saying that? You can call me Warriors like everyone else you know.”

 “I know, Mr. Captain Hero Sir, I don’t mind.”

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir blinked. “O-kay.” Shaking his head, he answered. “Legend has it. Since I can’t use my dominant hand, he said he’d stitch it up for me.” The captain hero nodded towards the corner of the room, and Ravio followed his line of sight.

 Mr. Hero was perched in that Lolia-awful rocking chair that had been in the house since Nayru knows when. It was a horrid thing in his opinion, old, out of style and absolutely stiff and uncomfortable, and he’d shoved it into the furthest corner of the room ages ago. Mr. Hero loved it though, although he never said why, and he didn’t seem to mind that it was now nearly next to the fireplace all the time, even if he did have to pull it out of the corner to properly rock in it.

 Mr. Hero sat with one leg tucked underneath him and the other one hanging down to gently push at the floor, making the big chair rock steadily. Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s scarf lay in his lap and a pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose, a needle in his hand as he dutifully labored over the brilliant blue fabric of the famed scarf.

 “His eyesight is terrible.” Ravio snickered to the Captain.

 “But his hearing is perfect.” Mr. Hero’s voice rang clearly across the room, violet gaze darting up to look at them disapprovingly over the top of his spectacles.

 The minute he looked away, merchant and captain shared a grin, only to burst into muffled laughter.

...

 Mr. Smithy and Tune are cold.

 It’s obvious from the way the two huddle in place at the kitchen table as everyone enjoys the meal that Ravio and Mr. Hero have pulled together (Mr. Hero is hesitant to let even the finest of chefs in his kitchen for some reason, despite having stated that Mr. Champion Hero is a very good cook and better than him (at cooking, life, or heroing, he does not specify)). Tune- Wind has all but attached himself to Sky’s side, using the bigger hero as a heat source as he slurps down his warm stew, and Mr. Smithy has bundled himself against the Mr. Rancher.

 It’s only autumn, but both of the smaller heroes act like it’s the start of winter with the way they shiver and rub at their arms.

 Mr. Hero’s only response when he asks is to sigh, but when he presses, his pink haired doppelganger eventually explains. “Their Hyrules were never corrupted, so they’re used to warmer weather most of the time, if not always. The mist from the ocean is the worst Wind knows, and heaven only knows if Four could survive a proper freeze.” Mr. Hero shakes his head, wiping the last of the broth from their meal off a plate with his dish-rag. “If they need something, they know to ask.”

 But Mr. Hero isn’t really that cold hearted, he’s worrying too if the way his brows furrow and the lines around his mouth deepen is any indication. “I offered blankets, but they don’t want them.”

 “Does this happen often?” He muses as he takes the plates from Mr. Hero to dry and put away, and to his displeasure, his housemate nods.

 “When we come here or to Sky’s Hyrule, yeah. Usually, Wars will bundle them up in his scarf, or Sky with his sailcloth, even Twilight shares his fur, but...” Mr. Hero’s ears twitch irritably (truly adorable how they do that, although he’ll never say as much). “Sky’s asleep with his cape, the wolf pelt is a bloody mess after that battle, and I haven’t finished mending Wars’ scarf.” The ears flap again. “That thing is so dang complex and Warriors apparently hasn’t the faintest about the proper cloth to use to mend it. He used new material to mend a hole! Brand new material, Ravio! It’s an awful state and I swear if Styla could see it she’d faint dead away!” The vet huffed as he plunged another dish under the sudsy water of the wash tub. “Using new cloth on a worn scarf, it’s like he wants the thing to be ruined...”

 Ah yes, Mr. Hero’s rants. There’d be no righting this one until he’d fixed the problem, and considering he’d only been torn away from the scarf that lay peacefully sitting on his rocker in order to make food, it was quite likely that once his kitchen was clean again, he’d be right back to working on it.

 Ravio smiled, Mr. Captain Hero Sir would be quite pleased.

 His gaze traveled over to where the hero in question was sitting. The captain and Tu- Wind, were talking on the couch, the younger staring nearly longingly at the rocker and the scarf on top of it.

 Kid really liked that scarf, huh? If Ravio remembered right, half the time during his adventure with Mr. Captain Hero Sir, he’d constantly seen either Mask or Tune hanging onto it.

 Somewhere inside of a bunny head, an idea sparked and green eyes brightened excitedly.

 He’d donned a new scarf just before dinner, but it wouldn’t do quite right, so instead, he darted off to his room, much to the displeasure of his dish partner as his rag flew into Mr. Hero’s face and left his housemate spluttering indignantly.  

 “Ravio! You didn’t finish-”

 “One sec!”

 Mr. Hero’s grumbles followed him out of the kitchen, but faded as he darted into his room and towards his wardrobe. It was the work of moments to select two of his largest scarfs, and less time than that to dart back out to the living room and wrap one around each of the smaller heroes.

 “There! Snug as a kit in a quilt!”  

 Two small heroes stared down at the black and purple fabric that now draped around their shoulders, smiles brightening their flushed faces as Tune buried his face happily in the fabric with a bright hum.

 “Thanks, Ravio!”

 “Thank you.” Four’s eyes glimmered warm brown as he sunk into his seat, only the top of his face and his hands visible beneath the striped fabric.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s eyes sparkled as the man looked up at him, and Ravio fought the blush that rose in his cheeks as he fiddled with his own scarf (he’d mess with his sleeves, but he’d shed his robe to help do the dishes, and his undershirt wasn’t nearly long enough to fiddle with). “Don’t mention it, it’s-” He chewed his lip for a moment before a smile broke loose, the one Mr. Hero said was cheesy and fake, the one for when he was trying to sell things. “It’s a complimentary gift for exceptional customers and/or guests!”

 “We’ve never bought anything from you.” Four deadpanned, eyes glinting with a smile Ravio couldn’t see past all the scarf in the way.

 “Yet!” Ravio chirped back, and darted back into the kitchen to help Mr. Hero finish doing the dishes.

...

 Mr. Champion keeps rubbing his scars.

 The heroes had left for a short spell, traveling off to fight more monsters only to be dumped in the orchard a week or so later (Mr. Hero said it’d been a month and a half for them, but by his time it was a week). And when Ravio said they’d been dumped in the orchard, he meant in the orchard. He’d been busy picking some of the ripened apples before the birds took them all (most of the wild birds knew better, but still, it was the principle of the thing, fresh fruit was rare in Lorule) when a shout and the snapping of branches had sounded all about him.  

 Ravio had shrieked in surprise, thinking that he was alone only to find (once he’d removed his hood again) that there were nine heroes hanging from various tree branches around him, and Mr. Hero himself was hanging upside down, one foot caught in the branches, as his face dangled inches from Ravio’s own, a scowl darkening it as a string of mumbles escaped his room-mate.

 He couldn’t stop himself, he kissed Mr. Hero’s twitching nose.

 Mr. Hero shrieked in surprise, jerking in place and effectively loosening himself from the tree, falling all over Ravio in the process. It was worth it, Ravio giggled as he lay on the ground. Mr. Hero was so like the bunnies in Lorule and their noses simply demanded to be kissed.

 Laughter and grumbles sounded around them, the heroes pulling themselves down from the trees around them.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. moved with surprising ease, despite his heavy armor, clambering down the tree with the same grace that Mr. Champion did most of the time. Some things never change, he could still see him climbing up onto Mr. Captain Hero Sir’s shoulders in the same manner (only now he rather doubted either of them would attempt to do that anymore, Captain Hero Sir Jr. was much bigger now).

 It felt entirely too natural to lead them all up to the house, Mr. Hero trailing at the back with a bushel of apples in his arms. Settling them all down in the kitchen was easy as could be, and he and Mr. Hero worked quickly to set some fresh apple cider to boil before starting on a meal for everyone.

 He missed not having them all around, it was going to be awful dull when they all had to go back to their worlds when this adventure was over again.

 He was determined to enjoy the moment for that very reason while they all sat about in the living room, sipping apple cider as Mr. Hero had settled down in his blasted rocker, spectacles on his nose and more mending in hand. He never would rest until the light was faded, and Ravio had half a mind to take out his knitting (he was still currently short three scarves) before he decided to simply flop down on the nearest open spot on the couch and just enjoy his cider.

 Except, Mr. Champion was sitting in the seat beside him.

 The young hero kept rubbing at his scars, eyes distant, and despite the numerous amounts of times that either Mr. Captain Hero Sir or Mr. Rancher tried to move his hands back down to the still full mug he was cradling in his other hand, Mr. Champion (he was younger than Ravio though...would Mr. Be an appropriate title for him?) kept reaching right back up to rub his neck and face.

 The scars were enflamed, harsh red and puffy where they peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt, and it made Ravio wince to even think of how he’d acquired such injuries that would scar so.

 He only winced more with every drag of broken nails and rough finger pads over the skin, but Mr. Champion- Wild? He could think of him as Wild right? He was kind of the kid’s uncle in a weird way- didn't seem to even notice that he was doing it. Cornflower blue eyes stared unseeing into the fire, face still and only his hands moving.

 Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, worry pulling his lovely face into shadows as he grasped Wild’s hands again. “Wild, hey, no more of that, okay? You’re hurting yourself.”

 Fingers twitched, but no other movement came from the young Champion until Mr. Captain Hero Sir (wait, was Wild also Captain Hero Sir Jr.? Or was he Champion Hero? Oh fiddlesticks, he wasn’t sure anymore) let go, and then broken nails moved right back up towards swollen flesh.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

 Mr. Hero had spaced out before, did it a lot when the sun set or when he was outside, but he never scratched like that. He sang and fiddled with his rings. If Wild Champion Jr. Sir (oh heavens) did something like that, it would be fine, but this was... this was rather unsettling.

 Ravio shifted in his seat, curling around his mug as Mr. Captain Hero Sir had to reach out to stop the wild-child's hands from reaching the inflamed wounds (the last scratch had broken skin, and a thin trail of red has appeared).

 It was without a thought that he acted, pushing his mug into the captain’s hands and promptly looping his scarf around Wild Champion Hero Captain Jr.’s (oh Lolia help) neck.

 Thoughtless fingers nose just as before, but this time, they brushed against soft fabric. Ravio tensed, dearly hoping that his scarf would not be ripped off or simply pushed aside.

To the surprise of all of them, rough fingers brushed over the fabric, paused, and gently stroked its material. The Champion’s face did not move, but slowly, long fingers ran down the fabric, rubbing it between their tips as cornflower blue eyes blinked slowly. In an instant, the young hero’s gaze was lost to sight as the fabric was nuzzled with all the fondness of a cub nuzzling their parent.

 “He likes scarves, of course he does.” Mr. Rancher chuckled wearily, a tired smile playing over his features as both he and Mr. Captain Hero Sir sat back (but not before Ravio took his mug back).

 “So he does.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir sighed, eyes fond as he watched the hero in question curl up on the couch, face lost in purple fabric and bare toes the only moving part of the kid. The wiggling toes were almost like a dog wagging its tail, but weirder, still, he wasn’t one to judge.

 Mr. Captain hero Sir caught his eye. “Thank you, Ravio.”

 “Customer loyalty.” He murmured softly into his mug.

 He caught the way Mr. Hero and the others stared at him though, and he could only be thankful his hood shaded his face enough to hide his pleased blush.

...

 Mr. Rancher needs to wear more color.

 It’s like looking at the photos of Mr. Hero from just before he’d come around. Mr. Hero always fussed at him for going through things, but he couldn’t help but laugh at how odd his room-mate looked with black hair and dark clothes. “You dyed it?”

 “For safety reasons. How many people have you see in Hyrule with pink hair of all things? It was a dead giveaway!”

 “But you’re the hero?”

 “A hero whose face was plastered on every wanted poster in Hyrule. Still is in some cases.” Mr. Hero had grumbled, folding the last piece of newly clean washing and throwing a pointed glare in his direction. “Life on the run sucks. I was thirteen and just wanted to be ignored.”

 A glance at the dark haired but smiling youngster in the photo and back up to the bitter pink haired hero he knew told him (even if Mr. Hero hadn’t already) how well that wish had been fulfilled.

 But seriously, those photos at least showed Mr. Hero with some color. The most Mr. Rancher wore was that horrid sash and obi, and the orange and blue looked simply terrible with his color scheme, something that, when brought up to Mr. Hero, his friend seemed to agree with, stating that ‘he’d never get into Hytopia’s capitol looking like that’.

 Ravio had never been to Hytopia, but based on the stories and mannerisms Mr. Hero took on after that adventure, he can only agree.

 Originally, he’d hoped he could simply find something among his wares that he could sell to Mr. Rancher, but that proved to only be so effective, after all, when one sells weapons and items, it’s hard finding a normal piece of clothing amidst all the blessed or charmed pieces.

 Oh well, he was counting on ending up sharing the rest of his scarves with them all anyway.

 It wasn’t any dramatic or particularly touching moment when he walked up and slung a clean scarf around the rancher’s shoulders, but Mr. Rancher, after initially starting, smiled as he touched the sun-warmed material. Of course, that expression quickly faded into one of awe as the hero squeezed the fabric lightly.

 Mr. Rancher’s eyes lit up like a dog being given a new toy (Ravio wasn’t stupid, he knew a dog when he saw one) and the man proceeded to continue squeezing and petting the springy fabric with eyes sparkling as if Ravio had just handed him the stars themselves.

 He was down to two scarves now, but it was worth it.

...

Mr. Traveler Hero is small.

He is small, and wild, and the clothes he’s wearing are nearly too small. The traveler is a growing child (never mind that he’s still a teenager himself) and he’s out and about in nearly threadbare garments that leave Ravio shivering at the mere thought of wearing.

And this is the other hero who grew up in a corrupted world where the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it should and the winters are always too long.

Ravio doesn’t think twice when he sees the first signs of cold in the young hero. He’s got two scarfs recently made, and he’s only too happy to share.

Purple and black stripes nearly drown the young hero when he walks over and wraps not one, but two of the comfiest scarves he’s ever made around the youngster's neck.

Like Mr. Rancher, nothing is said or done immediately, but Mr. Traveler Hero smile at him shyly, holding up a hand and scampering over to his bag.

The pair of polished stones he’s given don’t make much sense, but he catches sight of Mr. Hero and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Both smiling over at the two through the doorways.  

“Thank you.” He murmurs warmly, tucking the rocks in his pocket.

“Thank you.!” Mr. Traveler smiles in return, eyes twinkling in the shade of the room and scarf tails flapping like the four wings of a fairy as he spins around to show them to Mr. Hero.

...

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. has nothing comfy to wear.

 Once more, the heroes had been whisked away, and once more they’d appeared at the house weeks later, looking exhausted and utterly soaked.

 The chill autumn rain might be to blame for that.

 Mr. Hero hadn’t even protested that... Wild (he’d just call him Wild, he couldn’t do this title thing this time) had bustled off into the kitchen to warm some tea, and instead promptly collapsing in all his soaked glory onto the couch.

 The other heroes followed suit, and Ravio (like a good host) immediately hopped up and fetched some blankets. Mr. Rancher was already stoking the fire, and with a bit of work, Ravio was able to help Mr. Her grasp what was left of his own steaming mug of cider (his hands were quite the state in this bitter weather) before popping off to the kitchen to brew more of the sweet apply goodness to share with the heroes.

 Armor and over-clothes had been stripped off, sitting wet and dripping in one corner (Mr. Hero eyes it with distaste, knowing just as Ravio did just what that would be doing to the floor) but neither housekeeper said anything, Mr. Hero nursing his cider and letting its warmth sooth his gnarled fingers, and Ravio puttering about with a kettle and mugs to share with everyone else.

 Blankets had been pulled from the shelves and were cast around quaking shoulders as chattering teeth uttered breathy thanks to the purple-robed merchant.

 There was nothing like being thanked for good service, and Ravio beamed as he passed between them.

 That smile faded however when he noticed Captain Hero Sir Jr.

 The man sat in a thin linen shirt and under-armor, looking far from being near the level of comfort that the rest did in their undershirts and pants (or a dress in Mr. Hero’s case).

 Come to think of it he’d never seen Captain Hero Sir Jr. dress in any comfortable manner since he’d come along behind Mr. Hero that first time since they’d started this adventure. Did the poor kid- er... Man, not have anything comfortable to wear?

 While the heroes slept that night, in the two bedrooms and sprawled across the couch, Ravio kept Mr. Hero comfortable, sitting before the fire with his knitting needles while Mr. Hero repaired yet more damaged clothing (poor mister Chosen Hero’s sailcloth had been damaged somehow).

 Usually, one or the other of them would eventually remind the other to go to bed, but both were so wrapped up in their work (Mr. Hero started singing even, that goddess ballad Miss. Princess told hm about) that neither seemed to remember to check the clock, or even to go to bed.

 Come morning, Ravio finds that he has fallen asleep wrapped in the tails of the scarf he’d been making, and Mr. Hero has become entangled in his mending, a peaceful smile on his face, worn fabric brushing his cheeks and spectacles teetering precariously on the tip of his nose.

 Mr. Chosen Hero is the one who wakes them up, stirring awake with a violent sneeze, but he smiles fondly when he lays eyes on them, opening his arms in an offer of a cuddle if either feels inclined to return to sleep. Neither does, but Ravio appreciates it, and even if Mr. Hero doesn’t say as much (quite the opposite really) he knows his friend does too.

 The day is normal, as far as a day with nine heroes in the house can be, and with the rain still pouring, they spend their time cleaning, although Mr. Hero shoos them all away after a time because they’re not doing it the right way (AKA Mr. Hero's very practiced manner of cleaning and organizing). It’s after Mr. Hero had shooed them all into the main room while he organizes the basement (thank goodness, it's an awful mess down there) that the talk starts.

 It’s cold out, and most of the heroes have donned the scarves they’ve been gifted over time (Ravio isn’t blushing, he’s not). Smiles shine and laughter rings as they explain to their brothers how they’d some to have them.

 “And he just... threw t at me! Not a word, not an explanation, just came up and tossed it over my shoulders.” Mr. Rancher chuckles. “Kinda like how my ma would do when I was a tot, jist wrap it up and ‘round soon as the cold weather came a’creepin’ up.”

 The others nod, smiles fond. Ravio beams as he lights the candle set near the masks on the wall.

 “I had one too once,” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Muses aloud. “Back in the war, you remember, Wars?”

 “Do I ever.” Mr. Captain Hero Sir smirks. “I used to tie you up with that thing when you got too rowdy.”

 “You and the general both.” Captain Hero Sir Jr. Chuckles, soft and deep and so different from his nearly witch level cackle that Ravio remembers.

 “What ever happened to it?” He asks curiously, blowing out his match and turning to move towards the rest of the group.

 Captain Hero Sir Jr. Smiles at him, eyes far older but far more at peace than they used to be. “I outgrew it. It was a child’s scarf, even if it was a bit big at the time. I considered bringing it, but it just doesn’t do much anymore.” A thin smile pulls at his features, almost guilty as he admits “I didn’t take the best care of my clothes as a kid.”

 Well, that doesn’t matter over much. Ravio smiles at his young (old) friend, and around him he can hear the others whisper and laugh. They know what’s happening, and Captain Hero Sir Jr. Does too if the twinkle in his eyes is to be believed, so Ravio makes a point of flourishing his gift with all the fuss he can before reverently draping the garment around the tall man’s neck. The eldest hero has to stoop, even from where he’s sitting on the couch, so that Ravio can reach, but it only adds to the mock reverence as Ravio adorns another bare neck with one of his toasty scarves.

 “Mind you take care of that one,” He scolds lightly. “I was up all night making it.”

 “Yes sir.” Captain hero Sir Jr. responds with a playful smile in his eyes, even if his face is the picture of obedience.

 Giggles sound around them, and despite hating it, Ravio takes the only seat left available (he really hates that rocker) and curls up. “You all be quiet now, I’m tired and need a nap.”

 “Okay, gramps.” The sailor whispers faintly, a giggle in his tone as titters and chuckles erupt.

 Strangely, it doesn't take too long for Ravio to doze off, especially when Mr. Hero settles in beside him and starts to rock the stupid chair, humming lightly as fingers work over another project, the light buzz of activity all around them as Ravio allows himself to be carried into dreamland.

...

 Mr. Chosen Hero has caught cold.

 He’s not surprised, not with how drenched the others all were day before last, but the Skyloftian is shivering madly, miserably sniffing into handkerchiefs and trying his best to avoid drinking the nasty herbal teas that Mr. Hero claims are good for people. Ravio doesn’t care if Mr. Hero drinks them, but for pities sake, drink black tea if you’re going to drink tea! What sort of decent being are you if you’re just drinking plant water?

 “Legend, I’m serious, I don’t-” Mr. Chosen Hero breaks off coughing. “I don’t think tea will-” Another cough, nastier than the last. “I don’t think it will help.”

 “Trust me.” Mr. Hero already has a small table pulled up to Mr. Chosen Hero’s side, tea and handkerchiefs both set carefully on top. “Tea’s just what you need. Eucalyptus does wonders for a cold.”

 “He’s right.” Mr. Traveler Hero chimes in, gaze warm and sleepy as he sips some of the tea himself. “And it’s got a calming effect.”

 Mr. Hero cocks a brow. “What are you, ‘Rule, a koala?”

 No one knows what that is, except Mr. Traveler Hero, but it doesn’t seem to matter much, as Mr. Chosen Hero breaks into another coughing fit and bundles a blanket closer around his shoulders, voice hoarse when he speaks. “I wish it’d stop raining. I didn’t even realize-” A cough sounds and is followed by a sniffle. “I didn’t realize the surface got so wet.”

 And Ravio sees where this is going, the shivering hero, the gentle atmosphere. He doesn’t bother waiting for Mr. Chosen Hero to sniffle again, he just wraps a scarf around the man’s neck, tucking it in close enough to keep the heat in.

 The smile exchanged is silent, and Ravio is thankful that the others aren’t about at present to tease, only Mr. Hero and Mr. Traveler Hero are here with them, and neither says a word as they sip their leaf water.

 “I’ll make you some real tea.” He murmurs softly, offering a wink and a gentle pat to the knee before he’s off towards the kitchen.

...

 Mr. Hero doesn’t have a scarf.

 It was glaringly obvious, as whenever the rest of them appeared at the house, they'd all be wearing their Ravio gifted scarfs proudly, smiles on their faces as the ends trailed or dragged after them (despite that, they were all in perfect condition).

 But Mr. Hero didn’t have a scarf.

 He was never going to get one either.

 They’ve all just returned to the house (it’s been two months since the last visit) and the snow outside it up to Ravio’s waist in places. It took him ages to shovel himself out of the house, but the harvest of apples is in and the bees are well prepared for the winter, and Mr. Hero finally tidied the cellar enough that they have room for food storage aplenty.

 Cider and tea are brewed as the heroes gather, fluffy socks and scarves on full display as they sit around the fire.

 Mr. Hero is shivering.

 Curious glances are thrown at both himself and Mr. Hero as the heroes drink their beverage of choice, concern in their gazes as Legend eventually gets up to pull the most ridiculously bulky quilt in the entire house over his shoulders. He’s all pink in the face and he’s shaking like a leaf, and it’s only because he won’t hold still that Ravio hasn’t attempted to try and help him hold a warm mug enough for his fingers to relax.

 Mr. Hero moves like a man thrice his age, if not more, and he creaks worse than the roof does in the wind outside.

 “Where’s your scarf, vet?” Mr. Captain Hero Sir murmurs softly, one brow raised as he watches Mr. Hero fumble with the quilts edge.

 “My what?”

 Glances are exchanged among the others. “Your scarf? The one Ravio gave you?”

 “I don’t have a scarf.” Mr. Hero answers, dropping the quilt again with a scowl that makes his nose wiggle.

 “But” Cornflower blue dart between himself and his housemate. “Aren’t you two friends? How do you not already have a scarf? Even Time did!”

 “It’s a customer service thing.” Mr. Hero murmurs. “I’m already a loyal customer, so he doesn’t waste resources on trying to earn my loyalty. That, and I don’t wear purple.”

 He shakes his head, loosening his scarf as the eyes of the others twinkle, but rather than taking it off, he only loosens one end, before wrapping it tightly around his friend’s neck, fluffing up the quilt in both of their laps, and settling a warm mug of cider in Mr. Hero’s hands.

 “Nonsense!” he chirps, trying not to be hurt at the obvious surprise on his friend's face, so he muses Mr. Hero’s hair instead. “You have every item I offer except this scarf. Why would you keep buying from me if you get it? I have to keep you from having one until I get something better in, otherwise business will plummet!”

 Knowing smiles are exchanged amidst the others, but Mr. Hero just sighs and shakes his head, leaning slightly into Ravio’s side as he sips his cider.

 A bitter expression overtakes Mr. Hero’s face. “You forgot the cloves.”

 “Oh shoot!”

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #33: In Which I Write the Word ‘Quantum‘ 19 Times

Dang, I forgot what happened at the end of the last issue. It was pretty important, too, but I don’t have time to reread. Maybe the establishing shot can help me out?

Oh, that’s right, Rewind happened!

Everyone’s pretty jazzed that Rewind is here, non-exploded, and supposedly alive. Megatron carries this ridiculously small man over to a table, while Skids is busy admonishing Nightbeat for trying to put the pieces of this mystery together.

That’s one of the two first canonically, openly gay Transformers, Megatron. You bet your ass he’s important.

Nightbeat’s dragged Nautica over to look at that poster for Crosscut’s play they saw last issue. Together, they discover something interesting, and it’s not that Nightbeat’s chin has elongated to the point of absurdity. On this future ship, the play was completed and produced a mere few weeks after the initial launch of the Lost Light.

While this is going on, Rewind wakes up and asks Skids what the hell is going on. Skids, likely not wanting to poke at farm-fresh trauma, glosses over the fact that everyone on this ship was violently murdered, and that they found Rewind blacked out inside the hollowed torso of his brother-in-law.

…This is a dark story line.

You see, the joke here is that “Dark Cybertron” sucked major chrome.

Megatron reminds everyone that they’re still in grave danger every moment they stay aboard this ship, but Skids is more concerned with Rewind’s mental health. Which is sweet, but maybe not the thing to prioritize in such a precarious situation.

Rewind takes the fact that Megatron is an Autobot now pretty friggin’ well, as well as the introduction of gender into his species. That is, until Nightbeat, the king of social graces, saunters up to the scene to ask Rewind what the hell happened to the ship. He does get his answers, despite Rewind being horrified to the point of speechlessness.

Over at the hole in the wall, Nautica and Riptide are taking a gander at the quantum drums, which house the quantum foam for the quantum engines so quantum jumps can happen.

As Nautica explains the process by which quantum travel works, she realizes that the answer to what happened to everyone who disappeared was right in front of them this whole time.

Quantum, quantum, quantum- doesn’t even sound like a word anymore, does it?

The data slug Rewind made corroborates this theory, showing a series of events that definitely didn’t happen to the Lost Light we’ve been following throughout this story so far. The data slug contains this Rewind’s version of dead Rewind’s “Little Victories”, the travelogue that was never completed, where the question “are you happy?” revealed just how emotionally unhealthy most of the crew is. I’d like to imagine this Rewind’s film is called “Small Achievements”, or perhaps “Dear Fucking Lord, We’ve Been on this Trip for Three Hours and the Captain Has Been Killed by a Goddamned Soul-Vampire”, or maybe even “Where the FUCK is Our Therapist”.

The DJD came into the equation by way of someone having led them to the Lost Light. We get a flashback panel of the gorefest, in which Tarn appears to have learned how to fly, given the angle he’s coming from.

Because Rewind’s big thing in this series is being the guy who records stuff, the DJD take the opportunity to make some movies of their visit to the space yacht.

James, why do you keep getting Rewind involved with snuff films? I’m starting to get concerned.

Now, the thing about Rewind is that he’s almost always accompanied by his other half. Where is Chromedome, anyway?

He’s dead, that’s where.

Turns out, when you tell the DJD that you won’t do the thing they want you to do, they have a habit of doing nasty things in retaliation. Chromedome got stabbed in the friggin’ visor with his own finger needles, because Vos enjoys ironic deaths, I suppose. There’s some other stuff that’s implied to have happened, but we’ll get to that once we learn a little more about the DJD themselves.

While Rewind recounts the grisly tale of his husband’s demise, Riptide notes that the quantum foam has begun to spread at a remarkable rate. This is a bad thing, because that shit can and will explode, given half the chance, and this wreck is floating right above a potentially-inhabited planet.

Though I could have sworn we established that this planet was a Smartplanet, and therefore very much populated by students and staff. I don’t know. Maybe we conveniently forgot that, so we could make this a learning moment for Megatron.

Jiminy Christmas, Megs, do you even listen to yourself?

Skids, who has had a very long day of finding corpses and learning about quantum theory, snaps at Megatron, telling him that in order to actually be an Autobot, you have to have a little frickin’ compassion for those outside of your peer group.

Which is sort of contradictory to the Aequitas trials, the Killswitch debacle, the POW situation back on Cybertron, and whatever the fuck Prowl’s whole deal is, but maybe Skids is speaking about his own, personal relationship with being an Autobot. Hopefully so, otherwise he needs a class on critical thinking, STAT.

Never mind all of that though, because the problem just got a lot worse- the quantum foam has expanded to a point where any holes in the stuff are too small for the Rod Pod to get through. We’re going to have to get creative if we want to save the day.

Luckily, we’ve got a quantum duplicate of just about the tiniest little dude in the franchise here to do the job. Now we just need another, equally tiny little man, so the quantum drums can be shut off at the same time. Nautica commits more microaggressions, and this gives Getaway inspiration for a witty quip, which in turn gives Skids a brilliant idea.

The gang heads down to Brainstorm’s lab, to look for the mass displacement gun that was used for treating Ultra Magnus’s nanocon infestation back in the 2012 Annual. While they search, Nautica explains just why the hell the Lost Light disappeared in the first place. You see, quantum duplication acts on the Cain Instinct— it’s fine, as long as the duplicates don’t perceive each other. However, the moment contact is made, it says “oh man, guess I’m gonna have to end you” to one of the duplicates. The contact in this case happened when the Coffin Rodimus was brought aboard the ship.

Anything that wasn’t aboard the Lost Light at the point of the takeoff/explosion was never duplicated, and thus wasn’t erased from reality once shit started going to hell. This is why the Rod Pod is still around, and why the remaining cast are— well, the remaining cast.

While this conversation is going on, Nautica and Nightbeat uncover yet another dead body; it’s Brainstorm, and he’s a little underdressed.

…Someone run a paternity test, I think Cyclonus might be the father.

Also, Brainstorm’s a double agent.

Fucked up.

Getaway is furious that a Decepticon has been living on the same ship as him for the last six months, right under his proverbial nose. Even Megatron’s surprised, stating that Brainstorm isn’t usually who the recruiters aim for.

So, no mass displacement gun, and now they’re aware of the fact that there’s a traitor on the ship who’s had access to a LOT of weapon tech. It’s at this point that Megatron decides to stop lying by omission and tells everyone that he can mass-displace, since he used to turn into a handgun.

Smashcut to Megatron and Rewind floating out in space, the former now not much taller than the latter, as they traverse the web of quantum foam to get to the drums. Nautica instructs them from the Rod Pod. If this works, anything produced or connected to the quantum engine will be neutralized, and maybe we’ll even get the other Lost Light back! YAAAAAY!!!

Y’all really let this man go out there to fuckin’ kill himself for the greater good, didn’t you?

Rewind is honestly pretty chill with ceasing to be, seeing as he watched 200/+ people die today, including his long-time spouse.

Jesus. I’d say get him a therapist, but in order to do that, we’re going to have to wipe him off the map anyway.

Rewind asks Megatron if the Chromedome that isn’t his and his duplicate are still together. And I mean…

Luckily, Megatron has the good sense to lie.

With that, they flip the switches, and deactivate the drums.

And that’s a series wrap on Rewind! Congrats to Mr. James Roberts for the esteemed honor of burying the same gay twice!

Later on, everyone is back inside the Rod Pod, as their disappeared shipmates return from being nonexistent. Chromedome pops back in, and Skids is on him like a shark, telling him to go on the roof. Skids doesn’t even try to explain why. Which, fair. How the hell do you explain to someone that their dead husband’s quantum duplicate survived both a terrorist splinter cell attack, and the laws of quantum sci-fi bullshit crashing down on his tiny, tiny body, and that he’s right there on the roof waiting for them?

Welp, there goes the Chromedome/Dominus endgame. Shame, that.

Looks like Chromedome finally hit the threshold for having earned Roberts’ pity, and won’t be directly targeted by the plot for a little while. This isn’t something you see very often, so let’s really soak this in.

…Someone had to have told Rewind what happened to the other Rewind, right? I wonder what that conversation was like.

Back inside the ship, Blaster gets word that the Lost Light has reappeared. As they navigate towards it, Megatron requests that an encrypted call be made to Rodimus, to discuss the Brainstorm problem.

In the interim, Ravage is offered the opportunity to be a part of the crew, so he doesn’t have to keep skulking around in the shadows. We don’t get an answer from him, as our focus shifts over to Nightbeat and Nautica.

Nightbeaaaaaaaaaat, stop stating the themes of the comic verbatim! People are going to start thinking you’re a shonen anime protagonist!

Nightbeat’s somehow managed to keep ahold of the briefcase that they found on the other Lost Light. Unless Brainstorm’s boyfriend is in there, I don’t think this one was the work of Huey Lewis and the News’ hit single from the Back to the Future soundtrack.

Over on the Lost Light, specifically in Swerve’s, Brainstorm’s making his way through the crowd, briefcase held gentle like hamburger as he goes. He makes it to the bar, where Atomizer tells him he can’t have his briefcase in here. Brainstorm has what most would accept to be a healthy response to being told “no.”

It’s what I would do.

[copperpieceharlot]

Bud I’m sorry to swing into your inbox uninvited like this but my soul is having an OOTS renaissance thanks to your content in the tag and did you say Leverage AU

haha holy SHIT this got Long. but yes. i’ve been. Thinking. (also literally Never feel like you have to apologize for sending me messages. i was Hoping someone would ask me about this. now i have an Excuse to share EVERYTHING ive written abt it :3)

Obviously, Roy is the leader/brains of the outfit. He grew up having some Strong Opinions abt what’s Legal versus what’s Right due to tragic backstory involving the death of his little brother which was definitely SOMEONE’S fault for negligence but since there technically wasn’t any illegal behavior, there were no consequences for it. Also he’s still angry at his dad bc he thinks his dad is also partly culpable (and also also just a dick). He’s the Moral Backbone of the team (alongside Durkon, more on that later) in basically the same way Nate was in og Leverage. He’s actually not the best at figuring out what people want (that’s Haley and, shockingly, occasionally Elan), but once he has that info, he is the absolute best at figuring out the ideal plan of attack to use in any given case.

Haley is still a thief. I mean she maps to Parker almost PERFECTLY. Her dad was a thief & a conman, her mom wasn’t but knew about it and mostly accepted it, but she died tragically in a mugging gone wrong or smth, which made Ian crank the paranoia WAY up and taught Haley to do the same in the name of “safety”. Let’s keep the “Ian is in Trouble and Haley needs money, Fast” which is why she signs on to the first job in the first place. She’s less acrobatic than Parker, tending towards finding (or making) weak spots in security, but she can still make a tumble check when she needs to.

Elan is the grifter who is somehow an Idiot but also not???? It baffles everyone. When he’s playing a part for a con, he’s FLAWLESS, but then the rest of the time he’s just. No Thoughts Head Empty. He probably gets lured in initially because he’s decided to try his hand at being part of a full team, rather than the two-man cons he’s been running that invariably end w his partner conning him as well and stealing half of his take. Also he likes the idea of being Crime Friends. He’s that tweet where it’s like, Roy: “after the heist is over, we split up and never communicate again” / Elan: [about to unveil his Crime Buddies Forever Friendship Quilt Puppets]: “never?”

Vaarsuvius is the hacker/gadget person. They have a Vaguely Snobby Yet Unidentifiable accent, dyed(?) purple hair (nobody has ever seen their roots) and nobody knows who they “really” are or where they came from, but they’re good at what they do so everyone just accepts the mystery. They probably got suckered into the team by their initial employer (who I’ll get to Eventually, lol) framing it as a challenge to their intellect, like, “oh, I see, you’re not smart enough to make this team work for you...” to which they were like Fucking Watch Me and also melted his computer. Anyways. They are joined (digitally) by their Intrepid Friend And Co-Conspirator (his words, not theirs), a fellow hacker known only as Blackwing, or, on certain forums, Blackwing_Bird. (In the first season, V only occasionally references him when saying they’re “calling in extra help” or smth for a particularly complex hack job. He starts showing up a little more in s2 and eventually by the start of s4 is a regular & established presence, but only appears as actions in a computer interface or output.) Elan is convinced he’s an AI, Belkar doesn’t think he actually exists, Haley pretends she doesn’t think he exists, and Durkon and Roy try not to think about it too hard, as long as B and V still get the job done.

Belkar is the hitter. He is on the team bc their initial employer got him out of jail for it. He doesn’t have a tragic backstory, he just likes doing violent crimes. As the series progresses, he grows some empathy & stuff, but really only for people who actually deserve it. Assholes still get decked. It’s all very touching. (Also he has dwarfism caused by achondroplasia. It doesn’t actually bother him and is useful in fights bc his opponents frequently have no fucking clue how to approach him, but he likes Pretending to take offense at stupid things just to see how far he can go with it.)

Aaaand last but not least, Durkon is the least involved member of the team. He’s actually a career criminal and Roy’s mentor, and wasn’t a member of the initial team that [redacted, I’ll tell you later, PROMISE] put together for a couple of reasons, the main one being that he’s Officially retired in order to spend more time with his family, which consists of his mom, his friend (not girlfriend) Hilgya, baby Kudzu, and a truly stunning number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Roy frequently calls or visits him for advice and he Occasionally shows up to help out on local jobs, but generally he avoids doing crime if he can (as part of a deal with Hilgya, who is also a career criminal; basically, they’ve both cut back on the crime in order to provide a more stable home environment for Kudzu. But sometimes, you gotta do a little crime, and in those cases, Sigdi enjoys spending time w her grandson.)

NOW. THE BIG REVEAL YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. Who got the team together in the first place?!

The answer: Lord Shojo (or whatever Normal Person Name you want to assign him). Now this is where it gets tricky: he had them do a thing that they thought was good, THEN they thought it was BAD, but then when they confronted him he revealed that it Appearing to be bad was actually a test of character and would they consider working as basically internal investigators for him? But then he had a heart attack, so, rip. But THEN it turned out that he’d left them a bunch of money anyway and they were all feeling kind of Inspired so they formed the Order of the Stick, LLC (which, no, i am not coming up with a new name, actually, because I just don’t care. someone else can come up w a justification for that name, tho, i’m sure it’s possible). Also Miko was there and was unhappy abt their actions, and also their general existence.

Moving on. Villains!

Redcloak is the Sterling replacement, because that DEEPLY amuses me.

Xykon is a season-long main villain, probably one that Redcloak finds himself working for but then “teams up with” (read: blackmails) the Order to bring him down bc even Redcloak finds Xykon distasteful. That’s season 3, let’s say.

Tarquin is another season villain, say season 2. Nale probably shows up pretty early in s1, actually, as another recurring antagonist like Sterling but uh. Less good at it. Anyways the s2 final 3 eps deal with them (accidentally) discovering that Tarquin runs some Evil Empire Company, then trying to outplay him and take him down. Idk if Nale still dies in this version tbh.

Tsukiko is a one-off s1 villain who returns briefly in s4 alongside Miko, who has gone well and truly off the rails.

Season 1 finale has to do w Roy finally getting Vengeance for his little brother.

The vampire squad is the s4 finale villain who do smth terrible to Durkon and then get the Mother Of All Revenge served up to them by the Order.

I envision the show as being 5 seasons (like og Leverage) but I’m not going to sketch out s5 because I think it should be based off whatever happens in the current story arc, possibly involving some legacy of the OotSquiggle.

Other stuff!

The Order of the Squiggle is a legendary criminal team from the 60s who stole a BUNCH of famous shit & then proceeded to legendarily implode. This has no bearing on the plot I’ve sketched out, I just think it’s fun.

The Sapphire Guard members should probably be reworked as FBI. I don’t care about most of them but I do think that Lien and O-Chul could be like, FBI agents who Choose to look the other way while the Order does their very-much-not-legal-but-still-fair Justice Crime, and maybe even help them out on occasion.

So, the Final season-by-season outline, based on everything I’ve written so far:

s1 e1: getting the team together, doing a con for Shojo, then at the end he dies and the gang is like “dang what now?" and intend to split up except then they Don’t.

mid-s1: Nale shows up and tries to trick the Order, but then gets beat like a drum.

late s1: Tsukiko is an underling of the Villain Of The Week, winds up in police custody. But She’ll Be Back.

s1 finale: Roy’s Vengeance: The Vengeaning. also we meet Redcloak as an antagonist.

s2 e1: the truth abt Haley’s father comes out

early s2: The Two Live Crews Job but it’s the Order vs the Linear Guild and the Linear Guild ARE all bad guys.

mid-s2: Redcloak returns. ugh.

late s2: the sapphire guard FBI makes its first appearance, hello O-Chul and Lien.

s2 pre-finale: once again they’re in conflict w Nale over smth, he spends the whole episodes making Cryptic Remarks, they basically beat him (like a drum!) but then the stinger at the end is that Tarquin reveals himself and Elan is like “Dad?!”, roll credits.

s2 finale, part 1: Elan is hanging out w Tarquin bc he’s DEEP in Denial, the Rest of the team tries to take Tarquin down, but it doesn’t work.

s2 finale, part 2: Elan finally gets a clue and they manage to beat Tarquin. still haven’t decided if Nale dies or not, but I’m leaning towards yes. also they rescue Haley’s dad.

s3 e1: fuck dude idk.

early s3: Redcloak shows up, AGAIN, everyone groans. he has blackmail on them, he wants them to take Xykon down.

mid s3: The Rashomon Job but it’s about stealing the Talisman of Dorukan and it turns out that Nale was there too (“oh!” Elan says. “I was wondering why I looked so weird in all those mirrors! But it wasn’t my reflection, it was Nale’s!” “Sweetie, that wasn’t Nale’s reflection,” says Haley. “Huh,” says Elan, “so the mirrors were broken?”, cue eye rolling from everyone else.), and the Successful thief was Hilgya, who’d nabbed it from the owner before it even went on display.

s3 finale: they beat Xykon, actually factually, because he deserves to get his ass Thoroughly kicked, even if only in AU form. Lien and O-Chul are there, so are some other less helpful FBI people. There’s a bit where O-Chul Exact Wordses his way out of telling his superiors about the Order’s less legal activities without technically lying. King shit.

s4 e1: doesn’t really matter. maybe smth to do w some legacy of Tarquin’s company to set up the drama w Malack & Durkon later.

early s4: Durkon gets SENT TO PRISON. Malack approaches the Order abt this because sure they have Different Ethics but they’re still Friends. (Roy is surprised and a little hurt that he’s never heard of Malack, but he ignores that in favor of Let’s Get Whatever Fuckers Did This To Our Friend.)

immediately after that: Miko and Tsukiko return as a Team, preventing the Order from working on the Durkon situation

mid s4: Redcloak makes another unexpected & unwelcome appearance but he’s maybe a little less of a dick? the Order collaborates with Malack & his Crime Buddies (hello, Vector Legion) to pull one over on him tho, because “less of a dick” does not mean “a pleasant or decent person”, and also he was mean abt Durkon being in jail, so he totally deserved it. he still gets whatever he wanted tho, just takes a blow to his pride. also prevents the Order from helping Durkon. they’re having a LOT of setbacks wonder why that could be, not to make sure the season fills its whole length or anything, no sirree

s4 finale: something something taking down the organization, headed by Hel (yes that’s her real name), which framed Durkon for their Big Crime. Durkon goes free and Extra Firmly retires, For Good, He Swears, but says he “met someone new” who might be an asset.

s5 e1: minrah joins the team! and the episode is set in like, somewhere really snowy. that’s all i got.

the rest of s5: don’t know, don’t care, it’s open-ended until the comic finishes up.

[demenior]

Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons: 

I love talking about my own work and 

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and 

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories. 

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God. 

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’. 

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency. 

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics. 

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression. 

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question. 

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”. 

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish? 

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent 

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult 

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance! 

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired). 

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc. 

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years. 

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did. 

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.) 

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ��we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

[lampoest]

Unfiltered thoughts watching mission impossible rouge nation inspired by @chaotically-cas

(sorry its so long my brain is all over the place)

this is also part 14 of me watching it every day :/

CURSING WARNING !! ALSO SPOILERS !!!

why is brandt first to speak

starting out with "shit" good call benji

brandt man we get the package is on the mcfucking plane

badass luther 10/10

nervous benji 10/10

that one sound effects sounds like the discord notif

why he in a fancy suit

*jumps on a plane with almost no plan on getting inside*

why did tom cruise think this was agood idea?

but like why would benji even open the ramp?

how is he not winded from that?

classic ethan

THE INTRO 1000/10

SOLOMON LANE !!

wait you can already see lane in the record shop.

how do they tell the agents these little convos?

also damn way to give it away

what if someone just looked in that room and saw the secret message?

also how did the disc get changed? because the imf definitely didnt make that

and how did lane know where he was going?

speaking of lane---

dang that man is pretty

he always sets guns down carefully

i can only see alec baldwin as trump from his snl skits so i dont take hunley seriously ;-;

damn brandt needs to step it up. man keeps letting himself be inturrupted

bruh the imf is only luck

why did no one resrict his legs?

also why is janik such an asshole?

dang she cool !!

why does it take janik so long to get that gun?

bravo-echo 1-1

this man is bleeding but decided instead of taking care of his wound he calls brandt.

i like how you actually see ethan worried and confused trying to plan his next moves. he is rarely caught off guard so it's refreshing to see his more human side

hunley spitting accusations damn bro

also a big fuck you from ethan to hunley

dang ethan is good

brandts little hidden smile

and ethan leaving trails

bitch how you sketch that good???

STAN BENJI !!

youve won, your way out of a job

benji is good

my little brandt x benji shipper in me is happy

simon pegg is such a good actor

the first time i saw this i was like: aww noooo

all dunn with that

TO THE OPERA !!!

TUX BENJI TUX BENJI

i cant tell if that was ethan

it just looks like youre talking to yourself thats more sus than using a phone

want drama? go to the opera

ok but like if you look like that im sorry you are a bad guy. thats like a stereotypical bad guy face

benji-

you can see ethan in the background of that scene

flute gun flute gun

oh no benji is in the closet. dont worry man we love you

if i were there and i just had a good vantage point i could find lane in an instant

ooh ilsa pretty

pipe gun

also pamphlet computer

those key things are cool and plausible

spiderman spiderman does whatever, ethan hunt can?

a W O M A N

what W O M A N?

reminds me of a marshmallow gun i made out if pvc pipes.

why does she not put that thing back?

also the dude loads it and then later it is unloaded

dang that guy is pretty tall.

ethan is so tiny

dis bitch is like uhh gimmie a sec to catch my breath mate

why he only dropkick people?

only 30 mins in ?!?!

the cinematography is exquisite

yes benji goin sicko mode

*gets shot* just a flesh wound

bruh i would've been so startled at that

i love how confused he is at that

ilsa saves ethan once again

they did this on the first day of filming

skdjs

ah yes random package in car = not bomb totally

if she tried to shoot benji then yes she is a bad person

but she didnt try to, she could've easily but didn't

benji being paranoid

she could just say the dude's name

benji being scared

hunley jumping to conclusions

brandt actually cares yeey

why di they approach from different sides of the street they were in the same car.

benji was far away from the sparks why he flinch?

friendship goals

oop plot dump that only mission impossible can get away with

ok...

why this mf's voice so smooth

lane is struggling with chopsticks

also lane :))))

ive chocked on my water so many times watching this scene

lanes voice :))))))

SHE RUINED HIS SUSHI WHAT THE FUCK ILSA

this man dont know what personal space is

gotta look up these peeps mbti types

casablanca references

also benji is wearing dollar store lookin glasses while ethan is wearing some fancy glasses

luther is top notch

as much as i dont like jeremy renner he delivers these lines really well

because atlee is a bitch

oh honey please, impossible is a walk in the park

benji just wants to wear a mask

id be so nervous walking through those

yes...

personal wellbeing who?

why not bring a plastic bottle full of air?

tom cruise can hold his breath for 6 minutes and he learned to do so for that scene

luther big brain

damn cctv

why did they need to break in while benji was going in?

das sus but ok

also isnt et voila french?

she just randomly tapping the ipad

benji being stressed

if he missed the exact center

i want one of those to open my locker's lock

if he just went with the current and didnt try to force his way against the water ilsa wouldn't have had to save him

imagine if he put the wrong one in-

she is breathing heavily to over saturate her body with oxygen so she can hold her breath longer

see ilsa makes it out without well and she went with the current

BENJI'S OUTFIT YESSS :))))))

no you didn't

you gave her a false sense of security

ethan's confused face for the next like 10 mins is great

liar

why does that one man look like sean ambrose?

parkour

skdjdksjdjdkfjs

the facial acting in this

STAIRS STAIRS STAIRS

the glare yesss

vrrrm vrrm

hey its you !

drivin like a grandma

shit !

benji just screaming

im convinced that ethan is indestructible

no you didn't survive that

bonk

dskfh

ethan didnt just-

also why didnt benji just tell ethan he made a copy ???

dont shoot and drive kids

high speed motorcycle chase with no helmet or leather. tom cruise, how?

i wanna learn how to drive a motorcycle

HOW THE FUCK IS HE NOT DEAD YET ?!?!

the lighting

ofc brandt would be the person why sits backwards on a chair. fkn bi vibes

benji to the rescue

fuck off atlee

i am so proud of us ...

the lines are done so well here

benji lookin like how i look when my parents argue

YES THIS SCENE

LANE LANE LANE LANE LANE

im too fucking gay for this movie-

once again no personal space

*inhales* :))))))))))))))

ive like memorized the entire script of this including the music

1 man performance of m:i5 ???

benji's outfit

also i love how youre able to see the characters in the background. props for the attention to detail

i need that haircut because his hair is lookin A+

fuck you atlee

ilsa spitting straight facts

uhh ilsa he still loves julia

NO BENJI NOOOO

EW FUCK OFF JANIK NO ONE LIKES YOU

speak of the devil-

betrayal--

WOULDNT YOU LIKE TO KNOW WEATHER BOY !??

actin sus

BENJI LANE BENJI LANE

his posture shdhskhsj (i cant be talking though)

0 personal space whatsoever

why does everyone have the same haircut in this???

simon mcburney pretending to be hunt prentending to be atlee

manipulation !?

the syndicate you say ? i know a thing or two about them 😼😼😼

damn though renner delivers these lines really well

a black tie? how informal. ..

complimenting hunt right infront of him

but he really didnt

i never realized that they were on the clock for this

huh...

the lil head nod though-

HAHA YEAH FUCK YOU ATLEE

is it bad that i hate atlee more than i hate lane?

ethan big smart wrinkle brain

janik just reading a fucking magazine

ethan has a photographic memory

oh look its benji :)))

lane :))))

ethan being tough

it must be aquward to get the low angle shots

lane is running out the clock to put pressure on ethan hmmm big brain

it isnt working though :\

damn he so cocky that hes telling the villain his plan

ill give you 1/5 of the money you wanted to get my bf back

ok but like does tom cruise just not age?

kill the woman

ugh i hate janik

the trust that is shown between those two is great

yes the score and the chase are so great

also this man really hates windows for some reason

fuck off janik

sneaky sneaky

EYY ITS LANE !!!

yeyy janik is dead

once again dodging bullets and hating glass

couldve killed him but needed him alive

the glass box

badass ethan

all the pretty men assembled

lane really let himself go aster this

dang though lane is my favorite villain ever

i like how for once the girl and the guy just are friends instead of romantically involved

eyy the callbacks to how the movie started.

welcome to the imf

[f0xfordcomma]

Happy FFWF! Since I missed last week this one is a two-for. Do you have a favorite sentence/scene you've written in any of your fics? Link the fic it's from and tell us a little about that part. Then, what do you do when you wind up having to cut a sentence/scene that you *love* from your work? Do you save it somewhere to maybe use later or just cut it and cry a little?

Happy ffwtuesday hotwife!!

So, I have a scene from my miraculous ladybug multi-chap fic the solitude of cinders that just makes me FEEL things every time I read it. I started writing meta on Adrien that turned into a whole chapter and then (because you know I can't just ~not~ turn an idea into an entire dang production) evolved into a multi-chap monstrosity. I did HOURS of research on greek mythology and rose variants and baking competitions for this bad boy. Will I ever finish writing it, who the heck knows. But the notes are all there. Anyone want to write it for me? Bueller? Bueller? NO? Dang it. I am a mess.

(I'll put the scene below the cut bc it'll make this a wee bit long.)

The worst/ best writing advice I've ever heard is "kill your darlings." It plays throughout my head whenever I'm editing and usually (out of spite for that annoying little voice in my head) I ignore it. I am a compulsive editor as I write, so I usually end up cutting sentence as I am writing and don't let myself get too too attached to anything (but this also means I am *the* world's slowest writer) when I do, inevitably, have to cut or edit something, depending on HOW in love with it I am, I'll just save it at the bottom of the document for ~posterity~ or to possibly use later on in the fic if the time comes. Or I'll just try to edit the phrasing enough to fit tonally where I need it to. (Thesaurus.com and Rhyme Zone, my beloveds.)

Usually, this happens with snippets of dialogue, which are always fun to look back on and marvel at how hilarious these little characters (and the *very* humble writer who loves them *very* much) are.

When I write poetry I'll save images/ snippets a lot more often. I have a document in the notes on my phone and a document in my google drive just full of random images that make zero sense out of context. One of my favorite late-night poetry notes document additions is just: "write a poem about the holiness of shit." I don't remember where it came from or what I was writing at the time that gave me this idea... but now i HAVE to write a poem about the holiness of shit.

Anyway, here's the scene!

Though he had been sheltered by fame and fortune his whole life, Adrien Agreste was self-aware enough to never carry any grand delusions of importance. Sure, his face was plastered all across Paris and there were always autographs to sign and interviews to do, but that was all just because he was pretty. Pretty wasn’t important.

Important, Adrien knew, was the way his father had smiled at his mother when she’d cracked a particularly corny joke. The way he had held her hand a little too long after pressing a chaste kiss to her fingertips on his way out the door each morning.

Important, Adrien had learned, was a lonely man and the countless hours he spent appealing to a painting of a ghost—hoping, Adrien assumed, to hear the voice of his muse; to relish in her inspiration; to catch, just once more, the light in her eyes (eyes that, Adrien knew, were all wrong on canvas). Important was discarded designs and missed meals all in search of that spark.

See, if Emilie Agreste had been a spark, her son was a cinder.

Adrien knew this, too.

Her pyre had been a brilliant blaze, but it had been snuffed out much too soon. All that was left of her inferno was smoldering cinders. Cinders which, in order to prevent the fire from extinguishing entirely, needed to be prodded and protected.

A bonfire built from cinders could be just as warm and just as bright, but it took a lot of work to nurse a flame back from near nothingness. Strike a match and in an instant, you’ve got fire. In the presence of a firesource, one needn’t bother with smoking remains. But when the spark is gone, the cinders become vital. The only hope for heat on the coldest of nights.

Adrien was a cinder.

He could sputter and smolder and produce heat when he needed to. But it never reached his eyes. (Her eyes.)

Adrien had her eyes.

His were green in the way that hers had been viridian. He was pretty in the way that she had been beautiful.

And pretty wasn’t important. And Adrien was very pretty.