#bottom left is an old human design for a fanfic i used to write

[theokusgallery]

Ahhh yes. Nothing like old friends to reignite the good old ink flame

[claudiafekete]

This is another ordinary story of “how xxx fandoms changed my life” -

- or maybe not. you decide. I want to write it down.  trigger warning for politics, discussion of sexual violence, mild gender dysphoria It’s also horribly long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

When I first came to tumblr, I had just graduated from APH. Short for Axis Power Hetalia. I learned about it in the form of manga. For years it was my everything - I learned what fanfic or fanart meant and I learned the basic online etiquette. As I grew in years, it accompanied me.

Until it didn’t.

Shortly after I fell into solangelo.

It’s a fun story, how I picked up PJO years after years of absence. My brother was whining about something written in Magnus Chase. “What do you think the Norse Gods were going to do to Percy that Annabeth was crying?” He demanded. I expressed my confusion. He kept on with his different theories and I made the decision to look it up online later.

My online search of Percy Jackson’s fate soon revealed something unknown to me before: solangelo. The first canon gay ship I ever knew. Therefore, at the ripe old age of 19, I threw myself into this endless hole called “tumblr” for the first time.

It was the most LGBTQ+ friendly place I had ever been. I joke you not. It was also the place where I was taught not only how a healthy relationship should look like, but also how sex should or could be like.  You don’t learn anything healthy about sex in Chinese or Mandarin using fandom, at least during the years I was in them. There were rigid 攻/受(roughly translated as top/bottom) stereotypes that everyone rushed to squeezed their characters into them. A lot of time though both person might ship A with B, they wouldn’t interact because one thought A should top and another thought B should top. Their different topping designation resulted in depictions of the characters’ personalities so dramatically differed that you couldn’t recognize them as the same characters.  Other than the refreshing relationship dynamics, Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard offered me a chance to take a look at my gender identity. I had known that theoretically non-binary people existed outside of binary gender, but I hadn’t known how one might live as one or describe themselves as one. I’m not trying to claim that Alex Fierro’s story is the only story of non-binary people. I’m trying to say that it was the starting point for me to make exploration and find the label  “agender” for myself.

I stayed in APH for 6 years. I had expected to stay in solangelo for longer.

Entered June 2019 with its whispers and anxious demonstrations. Entered folks pouring into streets in Hong Kong. Entered tear gas and facemasks and sticks and a bullet scarcely missing the heart and journalists beaten by police. Entered young students not of age disappearing mysteriously. Entered people dressed in white attacking citizens and not arrested by police. Entered dead bodies that were probably “被自殺 (being suicided)”.

Entered a city falling into the hands of tyrants next to your door, and you didn’t know how to help. You didn’t know what to do with yourself with your clean and spare hands. You were so far away from the frontline, you were angry and helpless and hopeless for that.

It was the first time I witnessed, first-hand, how the Chinese government directed the discussion online, so that it seemed as if there were random mobs who were disturbing the peace of Hong Kong and possibly taking money or being trained by US.  “Bullshit. Would there still be so many kids hurt on street if we have received any kinds of training for this?“  Of course, the majority of Chinese people inland wouldn’t hear that. Hong Kong is a former colony. Any calls of outrage toward the present government must be made by disillusioned young people who were unaware of colonization and imperialism. 

That was why I took refugee in Good Omens. I needed to run some where to stop myself from scratching myself to blood. I needed to some works for these clean and spare hands to do so that they wouldn’t pick up something destructive, such as a knife.

If the PJOverse fandom had felt the best place on earth, well, the Good Omens fandom lifted me into paradise. 

I’ve never seen so much kindness being showed under one tag. The creators and actors were all kind and interacted with the fans in their own ways. We were encouraged to do everything, anything, to build art with it however we liked. We as fans were recognized. We were seen. We were ... cared for. It was overwhelming, in a good way.  For that, I would be forever thankful to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett and Michael Sheen and so many others in the production. I would be forever thankful to artists who liberated body types and freed the ties between gender expression and genitals. I would be forever thankful for the fantastic creators out there.

Would it seem as if I’ve only cherished the mutuals I met in Good Omens fandom? It wasn’t my intention. There are friends I keep in touch long after I fell out of love with APH. There are mutuals I got to know through solangelo and I feel, I hope that we are friends. Everyone who has chat with me I do my best to remember. (Though I do left conversation in weird places, become so ashamed of my incompetency that I do not continue them.)

What I’m trying to say is, as good as the solangelo fandom was, I still ran into biphobic posts here and there. It was only once or twice – but it was a constant reminder that being bisexual didn’t seem “valid” to some of the other LGBTQ+ members out there. Who cares what cis-gendered, heteronormative people said? Bullets that shot from friendly fire hurt the worst.

Besides, with a large and vibrant fandom like Good Omens, it’s easier to feel less alone and more… seen.

Damn right. Even after writing more that 5000 words in English it is still so easy to fall back into the comfortable nest of mother tongue. I can read simplified Chinese characters as well as the traditional Chinese characters I grow up using. There probably will never be getting the accent right but soundlessly devouring words in front of a screen? I excel at that.

That was what’s happening when the days rolled into January, 2020. I flew to US as an exchange student and exchanged long letters with a young Chinese woman I met in Good Omens fandom. I’ve never felt so alone in life. English as in creative writing has never come more naturally for me. The words burst in my head and arranged themselves freely on screen or on papers. I’ve never felt more hopeful about my writing ability.

The days rolled into March, 2020.

The first time my mom told me to come home over home, I laughed. The second time, I frowned. Before she pleaded me for the third time, I had grabbed a ticket.

I hadn’t imagined the disease plaguing China and its neighboring countries would affect the whole world.

You lived the rest of the story. I fled back to Taiwan.

 That was where Doctor Who came in. Or David Tennant. Such a strange time. For fourteen days I was the only living human in the house. I watched Casanova – or was it later? Hamlet definitely came before that. Then I could live with my family again. I handed in my homework and wrote in a different language than the people around me were speaking. My parents were working. My little brother was in school. When there was no one to talk to me I either read or watch Doctor Who to pass the time. I fell for Thirteen. I fell for twissy. Falling fast and hard and completely won over by their glamour.

I started internship. There were some small breaks where I could catch an episode or half, but never as much time as before. I dipped into fandom wiki and found that no matter how much research I did, there would always be details I overlooked simply because I could not afford hours watching all the episodes. No matter how hard I squeezed my schedule for time, no matter how much I devoted myself to the series, it would never be enough.

So I gave up, and let it go. For the first time in quite a while, I willingly gave up something for the simple reason of “I want to live a more comfortable life”.

 Came summer. Damp air combined with biting heat and piles after piles of biochemical terms made life agonizing. An ordinary kind of pre-pandemic “agonizing” which felt like a luxury in a world that was ending.

Hong Kong fell.

It was bound to happen. Once I heard protestors fought their way into the legislature I knew, for almost an year I knew, nothing good would come out of this. CCP would never allow its subjects acting out of hand. With such open despise to the authority, CCP would take nothing but a full conquest at the end of it.

See where we are now. As long as you’re “interfering” the political climate “inside” China, it doesn't matter which nationality you hold or where you were or how long it has been since you made the statement. “According to the law”, China can come for you. No, better, it can tell your country to hand you over. What a clever empire. What a graceful empire.

What a horrifying empire.

With the news I spiraled down fast. I kept away from the young Chinese woman I was exchanging letters with, I kept away from any kinds of Chinese social media, and the worst of all, I kept away from Good Omens, for it was sweet and kind and hopeful, for it reminded me of a time where fighting seemed to make a difference. I was empty and exhausted and a husk. Something must come out to fill the void. Someone needed to paint me in colors so that the world wouldn’t notice I was fading away.

I was surprised at who took the brush.

 After ten years, the first man I ever have a crush on strolled back into my life.

He was over thirty, but I always pictured him in his early twenties. Dark hair, eyes of grey or silvery blue. Loud laughter that sounded like a bark. Swift and elegant. Intelligent. Prideful. Stubborn. I embraced him as I’ve done ten years ago as a little child.

When I looked past him, I saw someone else.

Worn, weathered, with wry humor. Attentive and considerate. Tortured by the world yet never stop giving out kindness. Countless scars. Grey hair unfitting to his age. I didn’t pay him much attention ten years ago. This time, I looked.

Let me introduce you Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, my very first crush and the man who is too much like my last crush.

 2020, a month before Fall semester started, I trekked cautiously, timidly back into Harry Potter fandom.

The fandom of August 2020 was very different from fandom of 2010. The lack of author, for one – it became mandatory to denounce the author’s transphobic statement and other bigotry setting. I’m glad that everyone is doing their best to make it a friendly place for minority groups. Though I’m afraid, by making it a white or black situation with short statements and no discussion, it wouldn’t really help people understand why she is wrong in this. However irrefutable the author’s guilt seems to us, it is not something obvious to those who are unfamiliar with the subjects.

But it does feel good to see blogs and fics with the introduction such as “If you support the author’s transphobic bullshit this place does not welcome you”. It feels reliving.

The second was, I found the type of work I’m actively pursuing changed.

Back when I was young – when I was so little I didn’t even know what the word “fandom” meant – I read Character x OFC and some M x M. During the APH period I read an alarming amount of M x M and countless historical AU. When digging through solangelo, beside the canon divergence stories, simple AU like coffee shop grabbed my attention. Coming out stories were my comforts. The best of Good Omens fics were either in canon verse discussing desires, bravery, humanity and mortality, or setting in an AU with the promise of sweet, fluffy endings. Doctor Who almost always focused on Time and Space. Love was twisted and so often tainted by anger. Monster and god were very alike.

I came a full circle back to the Marauder era, and found myself not looking for heroes, but for young fighters struggling desperately in a seemingly hopeless war. I looked for people who were frightened but never, never ever going down without a fight.

I used to find characters and events unfolding in foreign places, now I want  characters who are close to what I am or what I want to be.

---

So, that’s it, my grand journey through multiple fandoms and basically a journey of self-discovery. It’s messy, sometimes painful, but always with so much joy blooming along the way.

Something doesn’t change. I’m still obsessed with words. I’m still a sucker for happy ending. I’m still wishing someone will come and love me the way I need to be loved.

Something does. I stop imagining that some magical power will come into my life and solve everything. I stop looking for others to save me from myself. I start believing that though wounds hurt, some of them do teach us to be a better person.

Long ago, I saw my friends and I as rabbits, without proper weapons to defend ourselves. That wouldn’t do. I thought. For my friends I’ll grow into a snake with fangs to protect them. Maybe I have grown into a snake. Maybe I haven’t. But I do hope I won’t stop fighting for those I love, with those I love.

I hope I won’t give up.

[ashmeytmblr]

First attempt at Fanfic writing

I’d greatly appreciate any constructive criticism or criticism in general and some possible suggestions as to where the story would go next!

Star Wars: The Survivors

Chapter 1: The Encounter

Corellia, 32 BBY. 3 standard months following the Invasion of Naboo.

From afar, the megapolis of Coronet City was a sight to behold. Airspeeders appeared as nothing more than blurs of light, traveling in all directions as if they were a puzzle even the greatest minds could not solve. Hulls of unfinished ships transported upon mobile construction walkers the enormity of which could rival even the greatest skyscrapers of the city. The network of roads by which resources were transported and the alleyways that made up the vast urban scape could only be described as a maze by which only those born into it could navigate. 

Corellia was a planet rich with history. Over the tens of thousands of millennia, the planet had witnessed the rise and fall of the Rakatan Infinite Empire, the Eternal Empire, and the Sith Empire. All of whom conquered Corellia in their ancient eras. Having garnered the influence of these extinct civilizations; along with the mass migration to the core world from all sectors of the galaxy, Corellia became one of the most multicultural planets in the Core Worlds. This all changed when the Corellian Engineering Corporation rose.

Less than half a millennia ago, driven by innovation, a small, independent business grew to rival even the greatest starship manufacturers of the age. It presented revolutionary ship designs that allowed for great customization and modification. A concept that had never before been seen. This appealed to anyone, from the most cunning of smugglers to the highest of aristocrats. Though this success was tremendous for the executives and shareholders of the company, the same could not be said for the rest of the populous. 

The Corellian Engineering Corporation gained a near-complete monopoly over the planet’s economy, causing many competitors to either go bankrupt or to be absorbed into the company. With this financial control over the planet and the constant increase in consumer demand, a majority of the population was forced into hard labor. Many received dirt-poor wages, many were crippled or killed while operating hazardous machinery, but the Corellian Government spared no attention. They were controlled by the Corporation after all. 

Kana Shan reflected upon this history as her awe towards Coronet City faded, replaced by the realization of the hell the city truly was. “Come, Kana, we have landed.” her master softly spoke through his comlink. She tied up her long black hair, though it still went down to her waist, and punctually made her way to the ramp of The Implier, a Consular-Class Cruiser and a model commonly used by the republic for important missions. Meeting the old Thisspisian at the bottom of the ramp. “Admiring the sights?” He inquired, gesturing to the vast skyscrapers. “I was,” she paused, “until this,” she pointed towards the oil-stained slums. “Well, I had a similar reaction upon my first visit to Coronet,” he chuckled. They adorned their grey ponchos and broke into a smooth stride, they had an investigation to complete. 

***

Careful to avoid deadly electrocution, Daran reattached the broken cable and sealed it with great care. He squirmed his way out of the tunnel-like space behind the cockpit of a yet-to-be-completed CR-20 Troop Carrier, meeting his boss, who towered above him. 

Child laborers were a rare sight on Corellia, the CEC had minimal obedience and surveillance towards Republic laws and jurisdictions, but seeing a child as young as four years of age working in shipbuilding was unheard of. Daran C’abbath was a rare exception to this belief. Ever since his parents had been blown up by the faulty reactor of a VCX-100 they were repairing 2 years ago, Daran had inherited their debt and was put to work.

Despite the boy’s youth, he was one of the best electricians of the factory, able to pinpoint precise mechanical and electric flaws and repair them in minutes, using his small size to squeeze into tight spaces to make repairs which stubborn Ugnaughts and Ardennians refused to do. This skill was only honed to great effect when it was realized by his boss and guardian, Uinter. A shrewd and cunning 2.4-meter Besalisk construction manager with decades of experience and an eye for efficiency and profit. He had once been best friends with Daran’s father and had cared for him after his father’s passing, however, that did not stop him from teaching the child everything he knew and employing him in repair and construction. 

“Nice goin’ there Sab,” the hulking Besalisk said as he patted Daran on the back, almost knocking him over, “now, tell me kid, how ‘dya know somethin’ was wrong with ‘ose cables?” He asked, a sense of determination in his booming, rusty voice. “Why d’ya keep askin’ me?” Daran asked, “I keep tellin’ ya’ that I don’t know how to describe it to ya’. I just hear ‘em, when there’s something not right about the electrical noises,'' He said, confusing himself. “Arrrrgh! I’ll get it outta ya’ one day!”, Uinter chuckled, ruffling up Daran’s knotty brown hair with one of his leathery, giant hands. 

The youngster batted his toughened hand away with a grin. “‘Ey, ‘cus I made that amazing repair,” Daran said smugly, “why don’ I get the rest o’ the day off, ‘cus, ya’ know-”. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Uinter interrupted, “you earn’d it, kid”. “Thanks!” Daran immediately replied, excitedly racing out of the construction zone before Uinter changed his mind. 

As soon as he left the area, he slowed down to a walk. Inspecting the run-down slums and workers around him, he spotted a moving crowd not too far ahead. The clustered crowd was made up of locals and travelers alike. He realized the market was open. “Perfect,” he muttered to himself. The market was one of many in Coronet City, though this one was of no notoriety. Selling a variety of different things from Corellian apples to large corvettes, anyone who could get through the twisting maze of tents and stalls could find what they needed there. Right now, Daran needed only one thing, his stomach rumbled as he entered the packed crowd in search of something to eat.

He weaved his way through the crown, careful not to be stomped by an careless Anx. Realizing he wouldn’t be able to get a good view of the stalls because of his height, he spotted a large durasteel antenna rod jotting out of the ground near the center of the crowd. Once a small clearing in the crowd opened, he ran to the rod and gripped it tightly. He clambered up the pole with great speed, realizing it was not so different from the ones he often had to climb in the factory.

With a full view of the marketplace, he scanned the area and found exactly what he needed. A few stalls ahead was a small stall selling Corellian apples piled neatly in a pyramid tower. He slid down the pole and slipped through the crowd until he was only a few leaps from the stall. Upon closer inspection, he saw that the pyramid of apples blocked the Sullustan store owner’s view of the bottom of the stall.

After waiting a few minutes for a customer to arrive, the Sullustan became distracted by a picky Ithorian, holding an apple in his long fingers pointing to a dark patch on the apple. “Bingo,” Daran muttered under his breath. He snuck up to the stall, crouching behind the stall, where the Sullustan couldn’t see him. Looking up at the pyramid, he noticed an apple had fallen from the pyramid. This was his chance. He reached for the apple, snatching it from the stall with lightning speed. He wasn’t fast enough. A greasy, stained hand was gripped firmly around his right arm. “Where d’ya think yer’ goin’ with that ya’ lil’ wonat,” the barrel-chested Sullustan furiously spat in a gurgly voice, “giv’ it back and I’ll let ya’ keep yer’ arm. Jus’ this once”. Thinking on his feet, Daran scooped a chunk of mud from the ground and hurled it into the Sullustan’s sensitive eyes. The Sullustan growled in pain, releasing Daran from his tight grip to wipe the muck from his eyes. 

Daran sprinted as fast as he could. “Guess you’ll ‘ave to take my arm then!” He yelled back, taunting the store owner. As he ran, he stuffed the apple into the inner pocket of his jacket. Not paying attention to the path in front of him, he tripped over and fell flat on his face. He stood up quickly, brushing the mud from his face, trousers, shirt, and jacket. Turning around, he met the gaze of a surprised Thisspiasian and an equally surprised Human, both wearing matching grey ponchos. Realizing he had tripped over the tail of the old Thispiassian. He was about to say sorry when the Sullustan caught up to him and grabbed his right arm up once again, a vibroblade gripped in his free hand. “I tried bein’ the nice guy t’ya’,” The Sullustan growled, “enjoy the rest o’ya’ stinkin’ life without yer’ right arm!” He bellowed. The Sullustan brought the blade down on his arm. Daran flinched, waiting for the pain. It didn’t come.

Oppo Rancisis gripped the Sullustan’s portly wrist with one of his long, taloned hands. “Now, my good salesman,” he spoke in a formal tone, “is there any justifiable reason to bring great harm to this young soul?” He inquired, stroking his beard. “Well…” the Sullustan began, “he stole the apple from me’ store… uh… the kid needs ta’ learn his less-”. “Perhaps this ordeal could be solved with a more peaceful compromise?” Rancisis interjected, “If I were to pay for the stolen produce, could you put this pursuit to rest?” He inquired once again. “... uh… yeah,” the Sullustan said, baffled. “Very well then,” Rancisis replied. He tossed a credit chip above the Sullustan’s head. The Sullustan sheathed his knife away and fumbled for the singular credit. “Master-”, his apprentice began. He shot her a glare and she quickly silenced. “Will that suffice?” He queried. “Yeah, that'll be jus’ enough,” the Sullustan sneered as he walked back to his stall to tend to the lingering Ithorian. “Are you alright my boy?” Rancisis asked the human child. “Yeah, I’m all good,” the boy replied, “sorry for trippin’ over ya’”. “It’s perfectly fine,” he assured the boy. “It occurs more than you would expect.” He chuckled, whisking his tail. “Come, Kana, we must continue,” he instructed his apprentice, and the two began to move. 

Daran stood still in shock for a moment before slipping through the crowd and out of the marketplace, back into the dusty slum area, a vast part of the city made up of warehouse-like stack houses, often referred to as slats, cobbled together with rusting metal and makeshift ladders. Thinking about the luck of what had just happened, he chewed into the apple, throwing the core behind him. Realizing it was getting dark, he walked through the area with caution before making it to his own slat. He opened the door to the flat, careful not to creak the door and risk waking his slatmates. Like the factory, Daran was by far the youngest in the slat. The second youngest was a 16-year-old Nautolan known as Brim, but even he could pass as an adult, so Daran rarely spoke to him. He quietly climbed into his over-sized bed, falling asleep only a few minutes after shutting his eyes.

“Why did you refer to me as ‘master’ directly in the presence of the locals?” Oppo Rancisis inquired. “I instructed you to refer to me as Rancisis in the presence of locals''. “I’m sorry, master,” Kana replied, a look of embarrassment on her face. “I said it out of habit. I just wonder why you decided to help that boy”. “I saw that the boy created a particularly violent ordeal for himself. Had I left the Sullustan to amputate the Boy’s arm, he would’ve likely bled out or died due to infection. I, nor anyone else, should have stood idly by and allow for such an act to occur,” he explained to her, “besides, I assume neither the Sullustan nor the Boy are in collusion with The Rise. So they will not learn of our investigation yet,” he reassured her.  “I hope that was the case,” Kana nervously replied. “But even after a day of enquiring, we still haven’t found Semt or his group of… terrorists!”. “Calm yourself, Kana,” her master reassured her, “you’re right, we have been inquiring for a day, but only a day. It could possibly be weeks before we uncover the location of their hideout. However, we must not give up. An attempt against Senator Iblis’s life is a serious matter. Had The Rise succeeded in their assassination, the Senate would’ve erupted in anarchy at the news of the death of a Core World senator. I understand your anticipation towards locating these revolutionaries, I shared a similar enthusiasm to you in my youth, but we must be patient,” he explained. “Thank you for giving me a new perspective master,” Kana replied gratefully. The two wished each other a good night, exited the conference room of The Implier, and returned to their personal quarters.

***

The next day was turning out to be a rather uneventful one for Daran. He and an old Ottegan engineer finished wiring up the control panel of a CR90. He left the construction platform, sliding down the pole that connected it to the ground level of the factory, turning around to quickly admire the factory block. A gigantic warehouse structure tens of stories high, filled with thousands of rusted construction platforms surrounding all manner of incomplete ship models produced by the CEC. He walked through the forest of poles connecting the thousands of platforms to the ground, welding sparks flying at random around him, finding Uinter in his office. It was a small enclosed block near the entrance of the factory. “‘Ey, me an’ the Otto jus’ finished wirin’ the CR90,” he said. Looking up from his datapad and sitting up in his giant swiveling chair, Uinter smiled. “Well that def’nitely didn’ take ya’ long, did it!” he said, impressed with his speed, “well, lucky for ya’, there’s some boys who need a lil’ help up back. They’re sayin’ somethin’s gone wrong with the cablin’ of a YT-1300. Go and giv’ em’ a hand why don’t ya’,” he told Daran. “Sure thing,” Daran replied. He left the small block and approached the maze of poles. As he was about to slip through it, he noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. Turning around, he couldn’t believe what he saw. Entering Uinter’s office was the same Thisspiasian and Human he saw yesterday in the marketplace.

“Rancisis, are you sure this construction manager is going to know anything?” Kana asked. “It is a possibility that he may not know anything. However, we must inquire to the greatest extent of our abilities. Remember, these businessmen are not above selling information,” her master told her. The two entered the manager’s office. From the information they were provided by locals, he was a Besalisk and a giant for his species known as Uinter who had connections to almost everyone in Coronet, Kana felt as though it was a little too good to be true and folded her arms in discomfort. “Greetings manager, my name is Quis Sapeins and this is my associate, Lucet,” Rancisis gestured to her, “we are representatives of the Galactic Republic seeking intel regarding a possible purchase of this particular facility”. “Heh, ya’ almost had me there,” the Besalisk chuckled, “too bad yer’ apprentice ‘ere can’t ‘elp but flash her lightsaber for everyone to see”, he pointed directly at her lightsaber. Startled, Kana quickly dropped her arms to her sides, covering her lightsaber. “Why’re ya’ really ‘ere, Jedi,” he smirked. “Very well,” Rancisis began, “my apprentice and I are here on an investigation into the location of The Rise and their leader, Semt. If you can provide any information regarding their whereabouts, the Republic will pay you a great sum in return,” the Thisspiasian elucidated. “The Rise, ‘ey. Well, I ‘ave a lil’ info about-”. “Master, I sense someone is watching us,” Kana interrupted, turning to see a cloaked figure from afar dropping a pair of macrobinoculars and running from their position atop a complex of slums. Without saying a word the two exited the office and gave chase to the cloaked figure.

Daran saw the Thisspiasian and the Human bolt out of Uinter’s office. He was gripped by a sudden urge to follow them. No. I shouldn’t, he thought to himself. But before he knew it, he was already following them. Barely keeping up with the two, he had no idea why he was chasing after them. But he felt almost forced to. He couldn’t describe it, but it was like he sensed something from them. But what?

The cloaked figure was incredibly acrobatic. Employing the use of a range of front and backflips in an attempt to distract the two Jedi. Oppo Rancisis saw past them. Based on the stamina of cloaked figure, the Jedi-like jumps it was performing, and a distinct lack of a great presence in the force, Rancisis quickly deduced that the figure was a Terrelian Jango Jumper. And a nimble one. He just had to wait for the right moment. Gesturing to Kana to slow, he saw the opportunity. Poised in his taloned hand, he threw a small flashing device with such precision it landed and attached itself to the end of the Jango Jumper’s cloak. He slowed alongside his apprentice. “Why are we slowing?” She demanded. “Because, Kana, the Figure will only lead us away from their hideout,” he explained. “What I just attached to the Figure’s cloak was a tracking device. It will think we’re no longer chasing it and return to it’s hideout. Then, we will be able to confront The Rise and bring it and Semt to justice”. “I should have assumed that,” Kana said, embarrassed. “Nonsense my young padawan, you’re only 21. You still have much to learn. I know one day you will become wiser than I. You may even reach 174 if you’re lucky,” he reassured her. “Thank you, Rancisis,” she gratefully smiled. Rancisis drew a small screen from one of the gadgets affixed to his belt and turned it on, greeted with a visual of the city and a small red dot indicating the location of the tracker. “There,” Kana noticed the dot changing direction, “now we simply follow them at a distance”. “Precisely,” Rancisis commended her, “you learn quickly”. The two followed the red dot, maintaining a distance.

Daran was almost exhausted. He was about to give up when to his luck, the two began to slow. Relieved, but tired, he halted to quickly catch his breath before moving once again as to not lose sight of the Thisspiasian and the Human. Realizing the two were headed for an alleyway, he took extra care to stay quiet so they wouldn’t notice him and followed them through the narrow path. 

The flashing dot halted, barely faltering from a block on the map. “It appears as though the figure may have arrived back at their hideout”, Rancisis observed. “We should move quickly,” Kana said. “They may be wary of our approach and preparing to ambush us”. “Very good, my young apprentice,” Rancisis replied. The two picked up pace, winding through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways, passing many individuals of all manner of species until they were directly in front of the block the dot indicated on the map. From what Kana could see, it was a small, beige warehouse; very out of the way, very bland. Perfect for a hideout. Kana turned to her master to see him place one of his large, taloned hands on the corrugated metal entrance to the warehouse. “It seems as though this entryway is designed to be misleading,” Rancisis stated. “Though in appearance, it may seem to be nothing more than a standard warehouse entry. It is, in actuality, a reinforced, durasteel door”. “I think we’ve found our hideout,” Kana smiled. “It appears so,” he replied. “Now, Kana, stand back”. She took a few steps back, realizing he was about to make use of a force technique known as shatterpoint, a rare Force ability which called upon the Force to seek out a weak point and then apply a small amount of Force pressure to collapse the recipient. It could be applied both to find a flaw within a structure or an opponent, though the latter was considerably harder to pull off as it required great concentration. Under the tutelage of the Jedi Council member, Kana had yet to fully master the practice, however, she kept training up as she knew she possessed great potential within the Force. Within a few seconds, her master successfully located a weak point within the door and it shattered like glass. The two warily entered the pitch-black room, their footsteps reverberating from the walls. The darkness didn’t fool either of them. Sensing ten individuals, blazing lights suddenly illuminated the hollow interior. At the opposing end of the warehouse, an elevated throne made of all manner of scraps of metal welded together and crudely painted black. Standing aside from the throne at both sides were nine individuals. One Ishi Tib, three Humans, four Quarren, and the Terrelian Jango Jumper in no particular order. Each of them sporting an electrostave and dark cloaks. The tenth individual, sitting atop the throne, was an Iktotchi, Semt, staring at the two with unevenly dilated pupils, partially shaking. “Welcome, my new disciples,” he said audaciously, “I wondered if you would arrive”. “Semt, what has become of you? You were once a great Jedi Knight who showed promise to become a Jedi Master,” Rancisis interjected. “I’m glad you asked, Master Rancisis,” Semt smiled eerily, “you see, not long ago I held the same ignorant values you, your apprentice, and many other Jedi held. I believed them without question, yes. But then, one fateful night, I saw it, a vision! A glimpse into the future. Oh my, what I saw,” he suddenly burst into laughter before striking himself in the temple, “the Republic, the Jedi are done for! The Order, the Temple will burn. Once more the Sith will rule the galaxy,” his breathing became exasperated, “and I will rule with them. I will prove myself. The Rise will prove itself. WE REFUSE TO DIE WITH A DOGMATIC ORGANISATION OF IGNORANT FOOLS WHO REFUSE TO SEE ONE STEP AHEAD OF THEM,” he suddenly snapped. “But why attempt to murder a senator who has no relation to the Jedi?” Kana asked. “Oh, that.” Semt began. “Well you see, that action, I assure you, will have me noticed by him, the emperor yet to rise. He will gladly accept me into his order for my action of dedication to his yet-to-rise regime. So I had one of my most loyal disciples destroy the ship, bravely sacrificing himself in the process. But it was a decoy. A DECOY!” He slammed his fist against the arm of the throne, denting the metal. “I knew the Senate would send their little Jedi on a little errand to find me. As soon as I heard rumors of an elderly Thisspiasian and a human with egregiously long hair questioning locals, I knew it must have been you two. My faithful scout, Lika, confirmed that”. He paused. “Now, my Jedi, I give you both the chance. Join me, together we shall watch as the Jedi and the Republic fall, replaced by a regime which will accept us with open arms as their most elite, devoted soldiers of the Dark Side of the Force”. He reached out a twitching hand. “Visions can be deceiving,” Rancisis countered. “They only provide a subtle glimpse into the future, even for an Iktotchi with great precognition skills. What you say may not seem as it is. To turn to acts of treachery, to turn to the Dark Side of the Force is a true tragedy. Unfortunately, I will have to stop you here. I can assure you will be trialed fairly in a-”. “FOOL! Do you not see? I SEE WHAT IS TO COME! YOU AND YOUR BRAINWASHED LITTLE PADAWAN WILL DIE WITH THE DOGMA OF THE JEDI! MY DISCIPLES, DESTROY THEM BOTH,” he screamed furiously before bursting into uncontrollable laughter.  

Having lost sight of the Thisspiasian and the Human, Daran was aimlessly wandering the maze of the alleyway. Looking and listening for any possible signs of the paths they went down, he anxiously turned from path to path, hoping to find something, anything. Realizing the panic he was working himself into, he stopped in the middle of the path. Closing his eyes and slowing his breathing, he felt something, the same feeling which compelled him to follow the two in the first place. Giving in to the feeling, he began walking again, only this time with purpose, almost as if he knew where to go. Passing by the tan buildings and hanging rags either side of him, he turned down the final path, seeing a shattered door and hearing maddening laughter. Not allowing himself to give in to the fear swelling in the back of his mind, he approached the warehouse. Carefully peering into the entrance, he was shocked by what he saw.

Four of the disciples approached Kana while five approached her master, their electrostaves poised and ready to strike. Removing his poncho to reveal his dark brown Jedi robe and his additional two arms which Thisspiasians only revealed publicly in combat. He ignited his green-bladed lightsaber, deflecting every clumsy strike the disciples swung at him before resting himself on the latter half of his serpentine tail to tower above them. Kana followed suit, unveiling a lighter, tan Jedi robe. Taking the long hilt affixed to her belt, she ignited her own lightsaber, revealing two short blades that burned a radiant orange. An extremely rare colour which reflected her reluctance to draw upon the weapon, only using it in self-defense. She reflexively twirled the weapon using her wrist, deflecting every strike except one which grazed her side, mildly burning her. Giving a small grunt, she and her master both called upon the Force, launching the nine disciples across the warehouse, each one colliding with the wall behind Semt’s throne, all of them unconscious. “No… No. NO! NO! NO!” Semt screamed. “USELESS FOOLS, ALL OF THEM.” He paused. “You think you have stopped me, Jedi?” he asked rhetorically. “I will return again, you’ll see!” He launched himself from his throne, making a beeline towards the exposed exit. However, he saw a small figure standing in the way. He bared his chipped teeth, igniting his blue-bladed lightsaber, poised to strike it down.

Mesmerized by what he just saw take place, but suddenly paralyzed by fear as the mad Iktotchi advanced towards him. “MOVE, BOY!” The Iktotchi screamed as he raised his lightsaber to strike Daran down. In an act of desperation, Daran rose his arms in front of him. He suddenly felt a surge of power, like the one that compelled him, only stronger. It felt like it rippled through his arms as it left his hands. He opened his eyes, seeing the Iktotchi sprawled on the ground ten meters into the warehouse, groaning. What did I do? Daran thought. “D-did I do that?” He asked himself. The Thisspiasian looked from the Iktotchi to Daran. “Yes, you did my boy.” He told Daran. “The Force is strong with you”. “Wha- th-the Force,” he stuttered. Daran had heard stories about the Jedi. Uinter had told him that they were a group of people, all different species, who wielded strange sword-like weapons called lightsabers and could move things by waving their hands using a power known as the Force. Did he have that power? The Human approached him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. She had a kind and smiling face and appeared to be a Kuati human. “What is your name?” she asked, her voice soothing his fear. “Um… my name is Daran,” he mumbled, “wh-what about yours?”. “My name is Kana Shan, I’m a Jedi Padawan,” she said, showing her braid, the only part of her long, dark brown hair that wasn’t tied back, “and this is my Master, Oppo Rancisis,” she gestured to the Thisspiasian who gave a welcoming nod. “I remember meeting you two yesterday,” Daran blurted out. “I wanna thank ya’ again, for saving me”. “You’re very welcome my boy,” Rancisis smiled. Suddenly, the Iktotchi sprung from the ground, igniting his lightsaber to strike the Thisspiasian. The Jedi Master reacted almost instantly, drawing his own saber to defend the frantic swings of the Iktotchi. Seeing an opening, he slashed the Iktotchi’s lightsaber in half, destroying it before landing a blow between his cranial horns using the force of his palm, knocking the Iktotchi out. The demonstration of power left Daran speechless. “Captain, Kana and I have successfully apprehended Semt and The Rise.” He spoke into his comlink, solemnity in his tone. “I’m sending you my location now,” he said, pressing a small button on a device affixed to his belt, “alert the Chancellor and have a collection team sent here to detain them. I apologize for that interruption. Now, my boy, could you please tell us how old you are,” he said in a calmer tone. “Four… I think,” Daran replied, slightly unsure. The Jedi Master stroked his beard, deep in thought. 

Kana could see from his contemplative expression that he was weighing up bringing Daran to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. She knew the council was marginally opposed towards the induction of younglings beyond infancy into the Order. However, her master was notably more conservative in the following of the Jedi ways when compared to the fellow Jedi who made up the Jedi High Council and advocated for younglings to be allowed into the order. “Master, I think we should bring him to the Jedi Temple,” she suggested. “Was I not discovered by Master Giiett on Kuat when I was only three years old? What about Master Mundi? He was inducted into the Jedi Order when he was four, just like Daran here”. “I understand your point of view Kana,” he replied. “However, what concerns me is that of the recent induction of Skywalker, the prophecised Chosen One, at the age of nine. I fear the council may not be willing to grant another exception,” he explained. “But master, he is still very young and you saw the power he possesses. It would be such a waste of potential to simply neglect his power and leave him untrained,” Kana argued back. “Think of all the good he could do for the galaxy if he were allowed to be trained, what he could accomplish,” she said persuasively. “And he’s still only four, so he’s only three years out of infancy. I think it’s worth a chance”. Rancisis gave her an honoured smile. “I have taught you well, my padawan. You may not see it, but you are a very wise woman, Kana. You will go on to become a great Jedi Knight someday,” he appraised her. “Very well, now tell me Daran, is there anyone who watches over you,” he asked the boy. “Umm… yes,” Daran nervously replied. “His name is Uinter and he was the guy you two were talking to before you two ran out of his office”. “I see,” Rancisis replied. “We will wait here until the Republic forces arrive, then we shall consult your guardian”.

***

After the Republic forces had arrived and arrested Semt and his disciples, Daran and the two Jedi made their way back to Uinter’s office. During their small walk, Kana told Daran of all the things the Jedi stood for and the adventures she and her master had been through together. These tales of adventure filled Daran’s head with fantasies of the future, thinking of all the amazing places he would go to in the Galaxy and the people he would meet. These thoughts were suddenly ousted from his head as he saw an unimpressed Uinter standing at the wide entrance of the factory, a bitter look plastered across his face. “Daran! Where’n the blazes didya’ go?! And why’re ya’ with ‘em?” the Besalisk bellowed. “Ya’ better have a good excuse for this one, ya’ hear me, or there ain’t gonna be no pay for a week”. 

“Please allow me to provide clarity to the ordeal at hand,” Rancisis stepped in. “This boy, Daran, has shown great potential within the Force, it is very strong with him. I believe the best future for him would be for him to be trained within the Jedi arts to help him unravel his true potential and become a force for light within the Galaxy”. “Wha? So you’re tellin’ me Daran here has the Force?” Uinter asked rhetorically. “Ha! So that’s why he always knows when there’s somethin’ wrong with the circuits,” he mumbled. “Well, the whole Jedi thing does sound nice an’ all, but i’m afraid i gotta tell ya’ that Daran’s stayin’ ‘ere on Corellia, he’s already a “force for light” or whatever, he’s saved a tonne o’ my guys with his skill and i don’t wanna lose that”. 

The idea of staying on Corellia for the rest of his life was ringing through Daran’s head, would he ever gain another opportunity like this? A chance to leave behind the life of the slums and finally see the Galaxy he had only ever been told of in stories and legends. He didn’t think so. “Uinter!” Daran yelled, immediately grabbing his attention. “I don’t wanna live in this place for the rest of my days. I wanna see the stars, I wanna become a Jedi and go on adventures around the Galaxy. I wanna meet and help people everywhere. Think of Osbourne and Marnie, once my ma and pa and your friends. Do ya’ think this is what they want for me? To live the rest of my life in the place they both died? I know they wouldn’t have and I know deep down you don’t either. So please, let me go. This is the only chance I’ll ever get,” tears were flowing down his face. Uinter walked up to Daran and crouched on one knee. “Sab, your ma and pa would be very proud o’ ya’.” the Besalisk said softly, a tear falling from his cheek. “I’ll let ya’ go, but on one condition, ya’ visit me one day,” he gave a small chuckle. “Thank you,” Daran replied. The two embraced, knowing it was the last time they would see each other for a long time. “Come, Daran,” Rancisis interjected, “it is time for your journey to begin”. Daran left the embrace of Winter, giving him one last nod, knowing he would visit him one day.

As Daran was brought aboard The Implier, he couldn’t help but marvel at the interior of the vessel. So bright unstained, it was as if it had never been set foot in. Kana gave him a friendly gesture to follow her and led him to a small room near the command bridge. It didn’t take long for Daran to realise it must be Kana’s quarters, though it was unlike any other he had seen. The room was just as unstained as the corridor, though the bed was so well made it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume no one had slept in it before. The room had a distinct sweet aroma to it, and a real table, a rare luxury in the slums one would be lucky to acquire without stealing it. Daran compared the room to his own slat, so dull, stained, and rancid, with unkempt beds, it was as if this very room was the direct opposite to the slats.

“Here, have a seat,” Kana smiled as she guided him to a small stool while she seated herself opposite to him. “Now, I know this is probably a huge change in scenery for someone like you”. “Umm… yes,” Daran replied nervously as he forced a small smile. “Don’t worry, I felt the exact same way when I was brought aboard a vessel like this,” she reassured him. A minute of awkward silence passed. “Would you like something to drink?” Kana offered, placing two cups and a cylindrical bottle on the table. “Yes please,” Daran replied with more confidence. She delicately poured each of them a cup. Daran starred in amazement at the liquid within. It was a pastel pink colour with small bubbles popping all over the surface of the water. “Have a sip,” Kana encouraged him, taking a sip from her own cup. Cautiously raising the cup to his mouth, he eyed the strange liquid one last time before taking a small swig. His eyes widened as he stared in awe at the cup. Never before had he tasted such a sweet flavour. “I’m going to guess you like it,” Kana chuckled. Daran swiftly nodded as he downed the rest of the liquid. “Hey, you have different coloured eyes,” she pointed out. “That’s rare for Humans”. “‘Never really thought much of ‘em,” Daran replied. “They’re just eyes ya’ know”. “It does make you look unique though. They’re special in their own way,” she replied. “I guess so,” he admitted. The ship started vibrating with the smooth sound of the engines as it filled the cruiser. Adrenaline flew through him as the ship pressurized itself, accelerating away from the landing pad until it was but a speck in the infinitely large scene of Coronet City. His journey had begun.

[jbhenwiler]

SU Fanfic: Redemption from a Dark World Day 1

REDEMPTION FROM A DARK WORLD

A STEVEN UNIVERSE FANFICTION TOLD AS A SCREENPLAY-PROSE HYBRID

This story is set about 6 months after the events of "Steven Universe: The Movie"  My Original Character for this fanfiction, just as Spinel was designed to emulate self-harm and abandonment-related mental disorders, is made to be a "poster child" for PTSD.  (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder)  I hope you enjoy my "Fusion" of the prose and script styles of writing!  (Yes, I know I have problems switching between past and present tense... it's something I couldn't muster the effort to fix.) ====================================

---------------------------------DAY I

   A skinny body lay on the sandy beach in the afternoon.  It was a 21-year-old man dressed in tattered jeans and a ripped T-shirt.  He has short brown hair and pale skin.  Despite appearing to have been washed up from the ocean, his skin and clothing were perfectly dry.  A teenager and a group of mysterious beings approached the man who was still as if dead.  A darkish pink greatsword lay at the man's side.

Steven: (Checks the man to see if he is breathing) Oh thank goodness, he's alive.

Pearl: How did a human wash up here anyway?  The tides should have carried him further west.

Garnet: And for that manner, look at his clothes.  They're dry.

Steven: You're right.  That's kinda weird.

Pearl: (Notices the sword) Wait a minute... That sword...

Steven: What is it Pearl?

Pearl: That design style is Bismuth's signature look.  Only she would make a sword like that.  But I don't remember Bismuth ever making a sword for a human other than Connie...

Steven: In any case, he's out cold.  We should move him to a safer place.  Let's take him back to the house.

   At that point Amethyst arrived, having come from the fry stand, holding a paper bowl of fries covered in Fire Salt.

Amethyst: Yo, check out the dead body!

Steven: Amethyst, that's not funny.  And besides, he's alive.

   Garnet picked up the human effortlessly and began carrying him back to the beach house.  Steven, Amethyst, and Pearl followed her.

   At the beach house, Garnet laid down the still-unconscious man on the couch in the living room.  The man let out a sigh and his left arm jerked a little bit.  Pearl brought in the sword and set it down on a nearby table.

Steven: Even moving him didn't wake him up.  What exactly happened to him?

Amethyst: Just look at his shredded clothes, man.  Whatever he went through, it wasn't good.

Just then, the man stirred.  His eyes tightened up, then shot open.

???: ROSE!!

   Everyone jumped back at the man's sudden outburst, then everyone's face lit up with shock when they realized just what he had yelled out.

Pearl: Rose... who?

???: (Looks around the room) What happened?  Where am I?  Where's Rose Quartz?  (Looks at Pearl) And why did you change forms?

   Everyone is confused.

Steven: You're in Beach City.  Pearl's looked like this for a while, and how do you know my mom?

???: Beach City?  No, that's impossible.  Beach City's gone.  It was destroyed during the first day of the Second Gem War.

   Everyone is shocked and confused.

Steven: What are you talking about?

Garnet: (Appears to be thinking [Using her Future Vision])  Hmm...

Pearl: What is it Garnet?

Garnet: From what he's saying, and what my Future Vision's ability to read timelines is telling me... This man may be from a parallel universe.

???: Parallel... Universe?

Steven: What's the last thing you remember?

???: (Appears to be straining himself with thought) I...  Can't remember much... I think my name is... David?

Steven: It's OK, David.  You don't have to try too hard to remember.

David: Actually, something's coming back to me...  I fell off a cliff... I remember Rose trying to grab my hand but I slipped.  I fell into a river, my head hit a rock, and then I blacked out.  I guess that's how I got here somehow.

Amethyst:  So you were carried by a river into an alternate timeline?

Pearl: It's the only somewhat logical explanation we have.

Steven: Going back to the question you haven't answered yet... David, how do you know my mom?

David: Your... Mom??  You mean, in this timeline Rose had a son!?

Steven: (Lifts up his shirt) See?  That's mom's Gem.

David: (Stares at the Gem) So her Gem's in your body... That means she had to give up her form to make you... Yep.  That sounds like her alright.

Pearl: You mentioned a Second Gem War.  What exactly happened in your timeline?

David: (Straining himself again) Urrgh...

Steven:  Don't push it too hard, David.

Pearl: If I know anything about human amnesia, it's that the memories will come back with time.

Amethyst: Anyway, kid you look starving!  Here, try these fries.

Pearl: Amethyst don't you dare!  You know how humans react to high amounts of Fire Salt!  He'll end up burning down the house!

Amethyst: Aww, can't you take a joke?  Anyway, David, was it?  Let's get you some food that WON'T turn you into a fleshy flamethrower.  Come on!

   David and Amethyst begin to leave the house to go to the fry stand, but Pearl stops them.

Pearl: Amethyst wait!  David's clothing is all torn up, and come to think of it, he smells horrible.  He shouldn't be out in public like that; it would draw too much attention.  Wait here, I'll get some of Greg's old clothes.

Amethyst: Do you really think Greg's clothes will fit him?  The kid's really scrawny.

Steven: He's too tall to fit in my clothes so they'll have to do.  I think dad left some shirts and jeans in the closet from when he was living with us after his leg broke.

Pearl: David, wait here. (Goes to the closet and begins digging through it)

   David suddenly hunches over and collapses onto the couch.  Steven rushes to his side and the others follow suit.

Steven: David!  What's wrong?

David: I'm... Remembering something.  I think it's how I met Rose.

   Everyone gathered around.

David: I remember what happened to Earth in my timeline.  The Second Gem War wasn't a war.  It was a calamity for Earth and its people.  The Crystal Gems were grossly outnumbered.  The Diamonds themselves led a relentless assault on Beach City.  Rose and the others had no choice but to flee for their lives.  There were no human survivors of the attack, and Beach City was razed to the ground.  The Crystal Gems went into hiding and... Humanity was subjugated within days.  The Diamonds decided humans would make a good slave species.  This thankfully meant we weren't wiped out... But in our opinions it was a fate worse than death.  We were lower than the Pearls, assigned to Gems for forced labor, entertainment, and the unlucky ones were forced to fight to the death for the amusement of the elite Gems.

   Everyone looks horrified.

Steven: What was your job?  What did they make you do?

David: ..............................  Nothing, at first.  I was kept in a cage for about a year until Yellow Diamond herself came to requisition me for a job.  (David's face falls with sorrow as his memories slowly seep back into his mind.   His hand slowly goes to the bottom of his torn-up shirt, and with shaking hands, pulled it up.)

   Scattered all over David's torso, in a terrifying crisscross of flesh, were scars.  Crowning them all was a large, thick scar smack-dab in the middle of his chest.  Pearl's hands went to cover her mouth in an expression of horror, and even Garnet looked shaken.

David:  I was a living practice dummy for Yellow Diamond's soldiers.  That's... That's what they made me do.

Pearl: By all accounts you should be dead...  Only one thing could have saved you, and that's--

David: Rose Quartz.  She and Pearl happened to be in the area on a scouting mission.  By the time she found me... (Points to the chest scar) I was just impaled on a Quartz soldier's blade.  I remember the Quartz saying, "I love the sound they make when you skewer them."  I started going cold...

Steven: What happened after that?

David: Keep in mind... I was blinded by pain at that point...  What I do remember is Rose immediately jumping into action.  She poofed the soldier with her sword, which caused the sword inside me to poof too, and I began to bleed out rapidly.  I remember... Rose being physically restrained by Pearl so she wouldn't shatter the Quartz soldier.  My senses were failing me... But I remember Pearl telling Rose to focus on healing me rather than killing the Gem who attacked me.  Her rage immediately turned to sadness.  She crouched down and put me on her lap, then the tears started falling.  She... Wasn't just crying to heal me.  She was genuinely concerned for my life, the life of a human she just met.  It... Captivated me.  My stab wound started tingling and my ruptured heart started closing up, which was a very strange feeling.  Last thing I remember before finally fainting from blood loss was, heh... Rose flipping me over so she could cry her healing tears on the exit wound on my back.  ...I think that's all I can remember for now.

Pearl: That's... Terrible!  You're so lucky to be alive...

   David got up from the couch, and Steven, who was actually shedding his own tears a bit, rushed up and hugged David.

Steven: It's OK, you're safe now.

David: (While being hugged) Huh... That's uncanny.  That's exactly what Rose was saying as she was healing me.  You sure that's not your Gem talking?  (Steven giggles at this and he wipes his eyes)

Pearl: Anyway... Let's get you out of those rags.  Here.  Go into the bathroom to change.  You should definitely bathe too.  There's soap and shampoo in the medicine cabinet.

David: Thanks, Pearl.

   David took an oversized white t-shirt and jeans (Plus a belt to make the jeans fit) and went into the bathroom.  The sounds of water running can be heard from the bathroom.

Garnet: ...That timeline could very well have been ours.

Pearl: I know.

Amethyst: That is one broken human.  Imagine living like that.

Steven: How do you think he'd react if he knew mom's original form?

Garnet: (Checks Future Vision) Not well.  We should keep that under wraps for now.  We should also make sure the Diamonds don't show up, especially Yellow.  There's no telling how he'd react to their presence, whether the Diamonds are friendly or not.

Amethyst: Good point. He'd probably go to town with them with his sword.

Pearl: He's traumatized, not stupid, Amethyst.  I'm pretty sure he'd understand the futility of a direct physical assault on all three of them.

   A few minutes later, a fresh, clean David wearing comically large clothes walked out of the bathroom.

David: Uhh... How do I look?

Amethyst: You look--

Pearl: Amethyst, be nice.

Amethyst: You look a lot better, David.  Now let's get you those fries.

David: Ok...  (Still thinks he looks silly)

   David and Amethyst walked out of the house and started walking on the beach towards the boardwalk.

Amethyst: So... What was Rose like in your world?

David:  She did not take losing Earth well.  It was kinda like a personality disorder.  She would treat Gems, especially Homeworld Gems, like they were trash to be destroyed, while considering humans to be a sort of priceless treasure that had to be protected at all costs.  Rose was obsessed with protecting me, while Pearl decided that I needed to learn how to defend myself.

Amethyst: So she had Bismuth make you a sword.

David: Exactly.  Pearl taught me how to swordfight.  Rose wasn't too happy about it.  She didn't want me near any battles.  But Pearl insisted on it.  "You can't protect him from everything!"  She said.

Amethyst: Rose was treating you like her pet, basically.

David: ...Yeah, I guess that's right.  But it was definitely better than being sword fodder for Yellow.

Amethyst: ...That must have sucked.  Does it still... Hurt?

David: Not really.  But a lot of times I would have nightmares about getting attacked.  Rose would usually wake me up in the middle of them.  She was so focused on protecting me she would get all concerned even if I was being hurt in my dreams.  Now that I think about it, her constant worrying about me was really stifling.  Poor lady was doing her best to defend humanity when the whole planet fell out from under her.  It's the one thing she would never let me ask her.

Amethyst: What was exactly?

David: Why she was doing it.  No other Gem treated us humans that way.  Everyone else was perfectly happy with having us as slaves and didn't care what happened to us.  Rose cared so much that it hurt.  Sometimes Pearl would take me on walks away from the base just so she could sneak me away from her.  Speaking of which... (David's face becomes crestfallen) Rose must be worried sick about me...  Pearl probably thinks I'm dead, and Rose won't be having anything of it.  She's probably turning the world upside down looking for me.

Amethyst: What about me?  I mean, the other me.  You haven't mentioned her at all.

David: (Looks like he's thinking)  Rose mentioned an Amethyst... A couple times.  Unfortunately that's another thing she would never open up about.  She would always look sad when saying her name, though.  I hate to break it to you, but I don't think my Amethyst survived the Beach City Massacre.  Not even Pearl would talk about it.  It must have really hurt them to lose her.

Amethyst: Dang...  I hope I went out fighting.  I bet I was holding the last line of defense or something, buying Rose and the others time to get out alive.

David: ...Something like that.  Rose did also mention a human she was trying to escape Beach City with.  His vehicle was part of the escape plan.  Whatever happened to him wasn't pretty.  Rose keeps a picture of him and her together in a sort of shrine inside the base.  That and a broken guitar.  Some sort of musician I guess...

Amethyst: (If Gems could go pale she would be like a ghost right now) Hey, David?  Maybe you shouldn't talk about that with Steven or his dad around.  Just warning you.

David: You don't mean?

Amethyst: Let's just say that if that man hadn't met his fate... Rose might not have been around to save you.

David: (Grimaces) Yikes.

   They arrive at the fry stand.

Peedee: Welcome to Beach Citywalk Fries: Home of The Bits!

Amethyst: You know Steven doesn't eat fry bits as much as he used to right?  And he was basically the only guy eating them.

Peedee:  Not really.  Ever since the Off-Colors came to Little Homeworld nearby (David visibly tenses up) they've been interested in human foods.  And a lot of them learned that they were one of Steven's favorites so you bet they've become a hot item.  Anyway, what can I get for you?

David: (Whispers to Amethyst) What should I get?

Amethyst: (Whispers back) Fries and a Boardwalk Burger.

David: I'll have a fries and a Boardwalk Burger, please.

Peedee: What size fries?

David: Uhhh... Medium, please.

Peedee: That'll be $6.25.

David: (To Amethyst) Uhhh... Amethyst, I don't have any money.

Amethyst: Oh, right!  Hey, Peedee, just put it on the Universe tab!

Peedee: OK... But Greg better be coming by to pay up soon!  Dad's starting to get impatient and if this keeps up he won't let you keep doing this. (He goes into back to make the food)

Amethyst: So, David.  What's the food like over in Apocalypseland?  Cause the food here will blow your mind!

David: (Looks embarassed and somewhat sad)

Amethyst: Sorry, was that the wrong thing to say?

David: (Tearing up a bit) I miss my mom's cooking...

Amethyst: (Pats David on the back) Sorry, man.  Didn't mean to bring on the feels like that.  Look, here's your food.

   Peedee hands David his food and he and Amethyst find a bench to sit on.  David bites into the burger and looks delighted, the tears vanishing from his eyes.

David: I haven't eaten like this in forever!

Amethyst: You deserve it, bud.  By the time we're done with you, you'll be looking chunky in no time!

   By the time David was finished eating, the sun was beginning to set.

Amethyst: We should probably get back to the house.

   David and Amethyst walk across the beach towards the beach house.

Amethyst: Hey, kid, there's where we found you.

David: (Stops and stares intently at the body-shaped indentation in the sand, then walks over and begins searching the area)

Amethyst: Kid, I don't think anything else washed up with you.  We need to get home or Pearl's going to get all scoldy!

David: (Continues searching, now digging in the sand)

Amethyst: (Walks over) What exactly are you looking for?

David: (Looks at Amethyst, his eyes are tearful again) My picture of mom...  I always have it with me...  It wasn't in my old jeans pockets.  Wh-Where did it go? (Starts digging more frantically)

Amethyst: (Starts helping him look, but to no avail)  David, maybe we can pick up the search tomorrow.  It's starting to get dark.

David: (Wipes his eyes) ...OK.

   David and Amethyst arrive at home.

Amethyst: Yo, guys.  What's up?

Pearl: What took you guys so long?

Amethyst: Apparently Mr. Down in the Dumps here lost a picture of his mommy.

   Pearl and David both glare at Amethyst.

Amethyst: Sorry, went a little too far there.  Anyway, David is really worked up over it.  Maybe tomorrow we could form a search party and comb the beach for it?

Pearl: That's a wonderful idea.  Also, Greg stopped by, and we filled him in on what was going on with our new addition.  He's in the Galaxy Warp room with Steven and Garnet if you want to take David up to meet Greg.

David: Did you say Galaxy Warp?  (A mixture of fear and anger cross his face)  No, I won't go anywhere near that thing!

Pearl: Excuse me?

David: ...Sorry, I... Just have bad memories of those things.

Amethyst: Let me guess, Gems invaded Earth using them?

David: (Nods)  Any moment a Gem could pop out of one.  I... Can't stand being near them.

Amethyst: Well if you won't go to that party then we'll just have to bring the party to you!  I'll go get Greg and the others!  (She runs upstairs)

   Amethyst returns with Greg, Steven, and Garnet.

Greg: (Looks at his clothing on David)  Gee, am I really that big?

David: (Blushes) No, it's that I'm really small.

Greg: It's OK, you don't need to be humble around me.  Although I should probably take you out shopping for more fitting clothes.  Pearl told me all about you.  You've been through a lot haven't you?  (He sits down on the couch)

   Going through David's head are thoughts of this man.  He was certain of it.  This was the man Rose had been in love with when the Gems invaded.  He had come from a universe with Rose and without Greg and gone into one with Greg and no Rose.  Uncannily, it was as if the two of them were fated to be apart no matter what world they occupied.  This saddened David.

Amethyst: Whatcha brooding about, big boy?  Come sit down with Greggy here and talk.

   David sat down next to Greg on the couch.

Greg: So... What was your life like on your world?

David: ....... (Blushes and also looks sad)

Greg: ... That bad, huh?  What was Rose like?

Amethyst: She sussed over him constantly and treated him like a pet.

Pearl: Amethyst!

David: ...No, that's basically it.

Amethyst: Anyway, from the chat me and the kid had on the way to the boardwalk, his Rose was a little different from our Rose.

David: ...From what Pearl... My Pearl told me, Rose changed after the invasion.  She became extra-clingy and possessive.  I only knew that side of her, and the hyper-aggressive persona she took on in battle.  Pearl was her only tether to reason... Honestly, without her, Rose Quartz would probably have gotten herself shattered from running headlong into an impossible battle.  It would have been nice to see the side of her before the war... Before our world turned bloody... Before my family... (He suddenly sobs and tears up, burying his face in his hands)

Greg: Woah, woah, easy there.  It's OK.  We can't change the past, and we can't dwell on it for too long.  Anyway, where did you live before all this?

David: (Calms down as quickly as he broke up) ...I lived in a suburb outside of Empire City.  Henleaf Town, it was called.  It's all gone now... Replaced with one of... THEIR creations. (His face suddenly turns red with rage)  They put up a stadium where humans are forced to fight each other and... And... Sometimes they have to go up against actual MONSTERS!  (Suddenly stops and just sits there panting angrily)

Pearl: Corrupted Gems... They actually had humans fight them for... Entertainment?

Greg: (Is sweating nervously a bit) I'm really in over my head here, aren't I?  This guy needs help.

David: ...The Diamonds' cruelty knew no bounds...

Greg: Have you told him about the--

Everyone but Greg and David: SHHHHH!!!

Pearl: We should probably get to bed.  Greg, David's sleeping on the couch, so--

Greg: Yeah, I know.  Back to the van for me.  Hey, David?  I'll come by tomorrow afternoon and take you to get some better clothes.  See you later!  (Exit Greg)

Pearl: David... You should probably get to sleep.  I'll get some blankets and a pillow from the closet for you.  Steven, get changed for bed.  (Exit Steven and Pearl)

   David sits on the couch, still reeling a bit from his emotional outburst.

David: (To himself)  I shouldn't be so harsh.

Garnet: (Walks up to David and sits down next to him, and puts her hand on his shoulder)  You have every right to be the way you are.  Under your circumstances you could only do so much.  I won't pretend to have been through what you experienced.  You're human.  You have lower limits than a Gem would.  The fact that you're able to express your feelings instead of bottling them up is a great strength.  What's important is that here you have a group of people who will genuinely listen to what you have to say. Good night, David.  (Exit Garnet)

Pearl: (Brought in blankets and a pillow)  Sweet dreams, David.  (David shudders)

   David lay down on the couch and closes his eyes...

   TO BE CONTINUED...

[luckyspike]

Creative Mode - A Good Omens fanfic about friends and Minecraft

HEY GUYS WHATS UP ITS YOUR GIRL 

dont hold me responsible for this i was seized with the spirit of minecraft halfway through building a diorite tower and had to write (ie i was bored and wanted to do something different but minecraft-adjacent)

forever filling my need for found families, we have the good omens idiot circus. behold.

---

There was a laziness about the winter holidays - no school, soft snow coating the ground outside, and nowhere, in particular, to be. It was the week between Christmas and New Years’, and Adam was enjoying himself. He had a good Christmas - a few things he’d been hoping for, as well as the ever-constant box of socks and underwear - and was planning on spending New Years’ Eve with the Them. He had, somewhere in the haze of his fourteen-year-old mind, designs of trying to kiss Pepper at the stroke of midnight, but these thoughts were fuzzy and tentative, and kept bumping up against thoughts of Pepper hitting him for telling her she looked “more like a girl than usual” on a day this past fall when she’d worn makeup to school.

He would need to consider it more.

Still, he reasoned there was plenty of time to consider. After all, he was largely on his own for the week while his parents were visiting his older sister in Spain. Certainly he was supposed to be spending the nights with Wensleydale and his family, while Anathema and Newt watched Dog*, but during the days he was free to wander around the village as he pleased, playing with Dog and just generally Hanging About. RP Tyler had already composed fifteen mental letters to the paper and Adam’s father about it.

It was sort of boring though - one could only strategize one’s New Years Eve romance so much - and by the fourth day Adam was wandering with less intent than usual, up the walk toward his house, Dog bouncing through the belly-deep (for Dog) snow alongside him. He was considering how to best while away the hours until Wensley finished with his piano practice, and was lightly entertaining the thought of finding Brian and asking if he’d like to see how far out they could get onto the ice on the pond before it broke and they fell in, when he heard a car pull up beside him.

He turned, and then he beamed. “Hey, Crowley!” Dog yapped excitedly, while the demon waved lazily.

“Hey, Adam. How’s things?”

“Boring,” Adam responded, completely honestly. “What are you doing here?”

Crowley shrugged. “I was in the area. Need a lift somewhere?”

Adam considered it. “I wasn’t really going anywhere. Home, I guess. Mum asked me to water her plants a few times while she’s away.”

“Ah.” And Crowley leaned across the seat, and popped the passenger-side door to the Bentley open. “Get in, I’ll drive you.” He managed to bite back a remark when Dog also jumped in, immediately leaving muddy pawprints on the leather seat. “What kind of plants?”

“I dunno, she’s got a lot. She left a list. Got directions on it and everything.”

“Ah.” Crowley pulled away after Adam shut the door, only sliding a little in the slush around the corner to Hogback Lane. “Having a nice holiday?”

“Yeah, not too bad. Kind of boring, though. Brian’s got his aunt over so he can’t hang out as much, and Wensley has piano practice for a few hours every day and Pep, uh …” Adam trailed off, and then swallowed. Imperceptibly, Crowley almost smirked. Teens. “I dunno, she has family or something.” A thought occurred to him. “Hey, didn’t Aziraphale say you have a bunch of plants or something?”

“I’ve got a few.”

“Only I’ve never watered my mum’s plants before, and she’s got some really weird directions for some of them.” He looked over, cautiously optimistic. “You wouldn’t have a minute to - ?”

The Bentley rolled up along the curb outside of the Young’s house, and Crowley shut the engine off. “Yeah, I have a minute.” Adam beamed.

Adam began to suspect Crowley had more than a few house plants based on the look he gave Adam’s mother’s plant care list when he picked it up. He read down the very-specific list of directions with Adam, and did a lap of the house with the kid, Adam studiously misting and watering as directed. He did notice, sort of distantly, how the demon would linger at each plant for an extra few seconds, apparently glaring at the foliage over the rims of his glasses, but he was preoccupied with the heavy responsibility of gardening, and the quiet hissing escaped his notice. As did the nearly-silent trembling of the leaves. The African violet, for the first time in four years, started to bloom. 

The boy deposited the watering can and mister back on their usual shelves, and stuffed his hands back into his pockets, surveying the plants around the house and feeling the warm glow of responsibility managed. “Wasn’t so hard, really,” he reflected, as Crowley joined him back in the kitchen, setting the list back on the counter by the sink. “Hope none of them die.”

“They won’t,” Crowley replied, likewise sticking his hands in his pockets. “So … family out of town?”

“Spain.” Adam sighed. “Dunno what I’ll do for the afternoon. Guess I could grab a few magazines and read ‘em back at Wensley’s. Maybe play a few games.”

“Which games?” Crowley asked, with the sort of passing interest that adults and adult-shaped beings used when they were trying to encourage a kid to talk about their interests. “I’m assuming video games, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Adam sighed. “I dunno. I already beat the ones Mum and Dad got me for Christmas. I guess I could play Minecraft for a while, start a new world or something.” Something about that - probably the bit about the new world - seemed to catch Crowley’s interest. Adam went on, “I mean, me an’ the Them got our world, but that’s more fun when we’re all playin’ together, so I guess I could just do a single-player. You, uh, you know what that game is, right?”

Crowley shrugged. “Can’t say I’m much of one for video games**.”

“Oh. Well, it’s really cool. You like … you start with nothing in the middle of like the wilderness, and you gotta build a house and find resources or whatever, an’ there’s monsters and you can starve to death and stuff. But you can build stuff too, like cool stuff.” He trailed off briefly, unsure of how his pitch was landing. “I could show you if you want.”

The demon appeared to consider it for a minute. Then, with a shrug, “Sure, I don’t have anywhere to be. You build stuff, you said?”

Adam nodded, enthusiastic, already leading the way to his room. “Yeah, I’ll show you.”

It took twenty minutes to get the console started, and to give Crowley a crash course on how a controller worked. He picked up it a lot faster than Adam’s father had. Probably, Adam reasoned, on account of him being so old. Must have been something like a controller sometime before in history. Adam perched on the side of the bed, controller in hand, while Crowley sat cross-legged on top of the plaid comforter, Dog happily stretched out between the two, already asleep. “Right, so you’re on the bottom of the screen an’ I’m on the top.” He watched studiously for a minute. “You gotta get some resources. If you punch the tree it’ll break and you get the wood from it.”

“Oh. Naturally.” Crowley twiddled the sticks and obediently began punching the tree. There was a pop, and an 8-bit rendering of a wood block appeared on the inventory bar at the bottom of the screen. “Right. Now what?”

Adam paused in his own tree-punching endeavors. “You can make a crafting table, but you have the make the block into planks first. Once you get a crafting table you can make all kinds of stuff.”

This is a complete waste of time, Crowley thought, as Adam coached him along through the crafting table process. And then, I love humans so much, these absolutely nutty things.

It didn’t take long for Crowley to pick up on it. He may have been new to console gaming, but Adam had chosen wisely in terms of introductory games, and he did have the unique intuition and common sense granted by six millennia living among humans. And Adam was, for the less intuitive parts, a good teacher. He chatted the whole time too, about whatever happened to drift across his mind - school, his friends, the current state of international affairs as far has he understood it (and questions relating thereto), things that annoyed him, and on and on. The light outside got dimmer, and they continued to play, controllers clicking quietly in the background, while in the game a house began to take place and then, by parts, look … good.

“You’re pretty good at this for a grown-up,” Adam reflected, after a couple of hours. He had changed position at some point, laying on his belly on the bed, feet kicking idly as he played, with Dog splayed across the small of his back.

Crowley considered that. “Am I a grown-up, technically?”

“Not sure what else you’d be, 6000 years old. You can’t be a kid.”

“True.” The demon hissed a little in frustration when he punched an existing pane of glass and it shattered, and Adam pretended not to notice. “Not a bad game, this one.”

“Nah, it’s cool. An’ you got the building down really fast. Even Wensley doesn’t make houses that look this good,” he hadded, appreciative, as he ran around the perimeter and surveyed the word done. “You sure you haven’t played this before?”

“Absolutely positive.”

“You played other building games then? Oh, or did you build stuff like, in the olden days?”

Crowley paused, and his nose twitched slightly. Adam had learned, over the years, that this was a tell. He was stumbling in to something, and if he wanted Crowley to hang around for any further length of time today, he shouldn’t push. He’d find out eventually. “Long time ago, yeah,” Crowley said at length. “Not that it was similar to this.”

“But like houses and stuff? Cause like, this is a good house. Looks really cool.”

“Not quite houses.”

“Oh!” Adam exclaimed, after arrowing a creeper to death and collecting the gunpowder for later. “Is anything you made still around? Like, in real life? Could I see it?”

“Yeah.” Adam blinked, and realized that the lower half of the screen - Crowley’s half - had gone mostly still. Mostly. The view, such as it was, was just the digital night sky, spinning slowly around. “You could.”

“The stars move with the moon,” Adam said helpfully, after a few beats of silence. “In the game,” he added.

“Yeah.”

Adam swallowed. And then, cautiously, because curiosity was gnawing him away from the inside, and yet he felt like a man perched at the edge of a vast chasm with the winds whipping at him, he said, “You’re not talking about buildings on Earth, are you?”

Crowley frowned a little, and Adam paused, finger hovering over the save button. He might have gone too far. But then, quietly, Crowley said, “No. Never built any actual buildings. Just …” He shrugged. “Other stuff.”

“Stars,” Adam said quietly, and it wasn’t a question. He stopped time, once, Adam remembered, but even for him the memories seemed just a little fuzzy now, three years later, separated in time by years of mundane things like school and video games and being normal. Sometimes, every once in a great while, he almost forgot altogether. Almost. They’re not just old people. They’re not people.

“Stars,” Crowley agreed. “Not a lot. Just a few. Someone had to do it, and it wasn’t a bad job.”

“Prob’ly.” Adam paused for a second and then, because he didn’t care for the weight of the silence, he said, “I think a zombie might be eating you.”

“Oh. Huh.” And the moment passed. 

The zombie was slain, and Adam returned to mining ore, while the weight of the silence lifted by inches and Adam breathed a little easier. Stars, he thought. I wonder which ones. He didn’t ask. “You know,” he said instead, “if you get a console at your place you could keep playing. Like online.”

“Oh yeah?” Crowley’s eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

Adam set his controller aside. “I can write down what to get for you,” he explained, even as he pulled a pencil and pad off the little desk. Dog grumbled in protest as he slid from his Master’s back and onto the bed. “An’ the server an’ the password an’ everything so you can find it then. An’ you can text me if you forget.” He bent his head to the notepad, and so he didn’t notice Crowley’s smile, just a quick one, when it happened. The paper tore, and he handed the demon the note, scratched in the messy handwriting of a fourteen-year-old. “You know, if you wanna keep playing after you leave.”

Crowley looked the note over. “I might.” He glanced at the clock in the room then, and asked, “Is someone going to be expecting you home at some point?”

“Yeah,” Adam said, scooping his controller back up and returning to the game. “Wensley’s parents told me to be home by five, though, so I have time. But Wensley’ll be done with piano practice around three so I figured I’d go back about then.”

Crowley glanced over with a bemused grin. “It’s half three already, Adam.”

“Well, yeah, but I’m lost down this mine and I don’t wanna lose all the gold ore I got. We have to make a Tower. I’ll come back, then I’ll go.”

“Right, yeah, the Tower.” Crowley’s grin didn’t fade, and he cycled through the inventory to the map. “Hang on, I think I know where you are.” 

At length, Operation: Rescue Adam and the Gold Ore was a success. Adam shut the console off, and Crowley stuffed the note into a pocket. The house was locked up (with one last plant-check from Crowley, although Adam wasn’t sure he understood why), and the demon, the not-Antichrist, and the Dog loaded up into the Bentley, bound for Jasmine Cottage to drop Dog off. “You want me to wait?” Crowley offered, the car idling at the garden gate, while Adam and his dog jumped out. 

Adam considered it. “Nah. I’ll walk. Not that cold out.”

Crowley looked vaguely concerned, insofar as much as he ever looked concerned in situations that did not involve the impending Apocalypse, his own death and/or inconvenience, or Aziraphale being cross with him. “I could wait, really. Don’t have anywhere to be.”

Adam considered it again, but from the cottage he was fairly certain he caught a whiff of Anathema’s famous Polvorones, and shook his head. “Nah. Thanks, though.” Adam pretended not to notice when Crowley sniffed the air - the cookie smell really was strong - and then waited while he swung out of the Bentley and joined Adam at the gate.

“Might as well make sure you get inside alright and say hi to Anathema while I’m here,” he said, as an excuse.

“And get some cookies?” Adam suggested, cutting to the core of the issue, the two of them crunching up the walk together, Dog trotting between them.

“Aziraphale would kill me if I didn’t.”

Adam laughed. “Right. Oh, uh.” He stopped a few feet short of the door. “Uh, Crowley, um,” he looked up to the sunglasses, the carefully-arched eyebrow, and his mind raced a mile a minute. Which stars were yours? his brain whined. Which ones up there did you actually make? What’s outer space like? Are there aliens? What’s it like to make a star? His mouth, after a minute, said “Thanks a lot for the ride.”

Crowley was watching him. Not for the first time, Adam wondered if demons could read minds. He couldn’t have, he didn’t think, when … things were happening. But he was different then. It wasn’t the same. And Crowley had never said anything, but every now and again, he had this Look he could give you, a thousand miles wide and Adam wondered …

And then Crowley grinned, and shrugged, and knocked on the door. “Not a problem. Thanks for the game.”

“You think you might get a console?” Adam asked, as footsteps approached on the opposite side of the door. Crowley rocked back onto his heels and shrugged, but the amiable grin never dropped.

“You know Adam, I think I might.”

-

* In spite of numerous attempts, Dog and Wensley’s cat had never been able to reconcile their differences.

** This was not altogether a lie. Crowley had never played a game on a computer or a console, although he had been instrumental in the development of the E.T. game for Atari. Phone games, on the other hand, were another story entirely, and Crowley was rather proud of his perfect score in Heart’s Medicine, although only Aziraphale knew about this accomplishment.

[nordictwin]

Remember Death, Honor Death

A short story set in the universe of the brilliant Boku no Hero Academia fanfic Yesterday Upon the Stair by the brilliant @pitviperofdoom

Pit, your writing is true goals and I love it to pieces. So have this in honor of all of the spirits our poor, tired boy has helped over the years.

I hope you enjoy it.

He doesn’t know why it even surprises him, but somehow it does.

U.A. has a shinto shrine.

In hindsight, he supposes it makes sense, especially now the students live on school grounds. Sometimes, it’s just nice to go to a place that has remained the same for centuries and will remain the same long into the future, even with the discovery of Quirks changing the world. A steady base of traditions and routine - a haven of peace and solitude, where it’s like one can collect their thoughts easier and send a prayer to the gods if they so wish.

As it is, however, Izuku isn’t passing under the red torii gate to wish for something, and while he does go through the motions of respecting the god (the shrine is dedicated to Inari, not that it makes much difference to him), it is mostly routine and not the true reason he is there, not the true being he has come to pay his respects to.

One of the first favors he did to a ghost was to go to his grave and pray and tend to it. The man had been Quirkless and, for what it was worth growing up in an age with Quirks being more of the norm than a rarity, had lived a peaceful life without too many struggles. But... he had also been alone throughout it. Lonely and forgotten. 

He hadn’t wanted to be forgotten in death, too. Had wished for someone to, just once, visit his final resting place and treat it with kindness. Once it had happened, the man had smiled at him kindly and disappeared.

He’d been 4 years old at the time and still unsure of his Quirk. But the man had made him think of the ghosts who, as far as he knew, didn’t have a grave or someone to send them a prayer and respects.

It became somewhat of a tradition for him. Every year on Obon he would pack a bag and seek out the nearest shrine or temple and pray for those no longer there.

This year however has been... less than ideal... and in the middle of it all, Obon had come and passed, and he hadn’t been able to follow through with his tradition during the holiday itself.

Something he plans on fixing on this night.

It is October 31. Halloween... All Hallows Eve, when the veil between the mortal and the mystical is supposedly just a little thinner.

He doesn’t know about magic and gods, but he knows ghosts and this is one of the few days where they are more alive than ever, aside from the days of Obon - where the world is crowded, but the ghosts are (for the most part) engaged in mischief and forgetting, for just a moment, about old sorrows and pain.

The school itself is alive with activity, as well. He doesn’t know how or why or who had even gotten the idea in the first place, but a Halloween party between the classes had been planned and scheduled before anybody really realized it.

(Rei is off somewhere with Tensei, he thinks, looking at people bobbing apples. Ms. Nana is with All Might and Hino, he knows, is with Todoroki - he knows, because the ghost made sure to joke about “cheap copycats” when he saw his costume. He thinks he saw Narita dancing with one of the other regluar U.A. ghosts).

This really suits his purpose, for what it’s worth. In the middle of the celebration, nobody will notice him disappear towards a little used corner of the school grounds. That he’s carrying a basket full of candles and little offerings, well... he hopes most people will just skip over the basket and call it part of his costume and ignore the rest.

(Convenient as it is, though... he’s still very disappointed in his friends for even suggesting he dress up as a ghost - but he supposes he’s got all of his “dead inside” jokes to thank for this).

He pushes up his hood and kneels just outside the altar, by the steps. It’s the best he can do without intruding upon the space of Inari. And with that, he begins his ritual.

He gently lifts a pale green candle out of the basket. Puts it on the little landing. Strikes a match...

He takes a deep breath.

For the father he never knew, who passed after tucking him in just once.

He thinks of that fuzzy memory, of a man he didn’t know by knew in that one, brief moment. A man who had smiled at him and had already been so proud...

The wick lights low, a barely there ember, but warm and comforting, never dying.

He picks up another candle. A square, deep blue one that stands steadily in front of him.

Another match, another breath.

For the hero who just wanted to help, but whose light was snuffed out by a madman, before he got the chance.

Tensei’s image is clear in his mind. Standing next to Iida, playing with Rei, discussing things with Miss Nana... still a hero, still a pillar in his own right.

The wick quickly catches, burning bright and powerfully for a moment, before settling as a steady flame.

The next candle is twisted in its shape and an odd patchwork of colours, like someone’s dipped it in several vats of wax. But the inside, Izuku knows, is as white as the moon, white as ice.

New match. New breath.

For the man who could’ve raged at the world, could’ve gone poltergeist, but chooses not to and spends his time mildly inconveniencing Endeavor and watching over his nephew.

He pictures Hino, shit-eating grin upon his face as he trips his brother-in-law. The image flickers to show him snowy white hair and an expression of deep sadness. The image shifts again and Hino is sitting next to them as they visit Todoroki’s mom.

The flame of this candle is dancing before it even catches at the wick, jumping and dancing, brimming with energy.

Two light blue, disk-shaped candles join the collection.

For the parents who could only watch their son turn bitter and angry with grief, who almost had to see him join them way too soon.

 Two yellow candles, a little cracked and dusty, but sturdy and good, to match Aizawa-sensei’s goggles.

For the ones who would wait an eternity, just to thank the man who saved those most precious to them.

A small white one, accompanied by a plastic ring and the results of the trial that convicted her murderer.

For the woman who died because of a single man’s groundless jealousy, who searched for her chance at survival, even in death.

A candle shaped like a lucky cat, with a copied image of Mika curled up in a sumbeam, belly exposed and inviting for pats, slipped under the bottom.

For the woman who loved Mika before he did, and led him to her so he eventually could.

A collection of black tea lights that steal his breath and make his blood go cold, his heart an empty hole and his mind a void of disfigured creatures, ghosts so traumatized there’s so very little of the humans they once were left behind.

For the more than 777 people who shouldn’t have died.

By the end of his little ceremony, there are only three candles left in his basket.

Izuku hesitates.

He wonders if he should... wonders what they might think... if it’s even his place to do this.

Then he thinks of Miss Nana - who ruffles his hair and calls him Sprout and always has a kind word, even though she suffered so much in her final moments.

He thinks of One for All, who even after seeing all of the cruel acts of his own brother, still waits for him so they can cross - together.

He thinks of... he thinks of...

He bows his head and turns to his basket.

The candle he lifts out is dark purple. Spherical with a smooth, slightly shimmering surface, and the symbol for “seven” carved into it.

The match lights at the first stroke against the box.

For the hero who just wanted people to smile and see her family safe.

Nana’s candle lights up like a torch, flame bright and full of life, before it shrinks and burns steadily, although with a small flame that looks frail. And yet there is a strength to it - it will prevail, it will stand tall, it will spread its light against all odds.

His next candle is a mirror-like shade of shining silver. Taller than all the others, but also incredibly brittle in texture and thin, so you’d think it’d have broken half... and yet it hasn’t. It stands tall and quiet amidst all the others.

He has carefully cut the words “One for All” into it’s surface.

For the brother who waited an eternity.

He doesn’t know what has happened to those two in particular. He’s not sure he’d really care to know the answer. But as the wick catches and reflects on the surface of the candle, spreading bright circles of starlight over all of the others, as if embracing them.

He has reached the end, and there is but one candle left in his basket.

He hesitates. Wonders if he should. Giving her a light has never been something he considered, because he never quite knew what there’d even be to honor.

Only this year... this year he has an idea. This year he knows.

And if anyone deserves a spot in his little tradition, his little ceremony... it’s her.

He lifts the candle.

It’s small, much like its designated ghost, just the right size to fit in the little lantern he’s bought. The outside is pitch black, possibly one of the darkest he’s ever seen - like a small void.

But the insides hold wonders.

With a calm that is almost unnatural, compared to how shaky he’s been all evening, he lowers the candel into the lantern and strikes the final match.

He thinks of static laughter and eyes of darkness. He thinks of silly pranks and claws that would tear into anyone trying to hurt him. He thinks of holding her cold hand, of signed conversations at midnight when his dreams are at their worst, of all the ups and downs. He thinks of so many things he could never put to words.

For the girl who died as she lived - alone and afraid. For the girl who just wanted love and companionship. For the girl who wandered and found solace in a scared, little boy. For the one who deserved everything, but got nothing. 

For his Nee-chan.

For Hitomi.

For Rei.

The darkness gives way to colour, as the flame jumps and dances and grows large, only to settle at a steady glow. Strong enough to melt the wax and reveal pure gold, liquid and bright, and kept safe and secure inside the lantern. He carefully slides the picture of Hitomi (a copy, naturally - he intends to treasure the only real picture of her for the rest of his days) under a corner of the lantern.

Then he puts his hands together, leans forwards over the steps, and prays.

For all of you who suffered, who could have been so much more, if you had only gotten the chance... I’m sorry. And I hope that you may one day find the peace you deserve. Until then, I swear I will always protect your memories.

He looks down at his handiwork. The candles are positioned so they stand in a wide half-circle, looking out towards the darkness of early October’s eve. And in the centre, he places Rei’s lantern.

In the distance, he can hear the voices of his friends. Laughing, celebrating, enjoying themselves.

Izuku stands, pulling his hood further over his head. He knows people (both alive and dead) will soon come looking for him.

“I’ll be back,” he says, though he doesn’t know who he really says it to. “To pray for and honor you all - for as long as I am able”.

He turns around, picking up his empty basket.

And like so many other spirits he’s helped, he turns around and disappears back into the warm light that awaits him on the other side of the gate.

Thanks for reading!

[mawichandoodles]

Beloved Rival (RusAme/AmeRus fanfiction)

My super late gift for @purplepatchwork in the RusAme Secret Santa2017 exchange.

This is my first fanfic EVER. And it’s longer than expected, almost 5k words. I’m a bit nervous, but know I wrote this with all the love. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, Patch! 

I mixed prompts number 2 and 3 :

“2. Al and Ivan as two rivalling teachers whom all the students secretly ship, whether they find out about this and/or their reaction to it is optional, just go wild.“

“3. Ivan confessing feelings to Alfred while being drunk, can be human or canonverse, Alfred’s reaction is entirely up to you.”

Note: I don't know much about the school system in other countries, so I'm going with what I was used to see during my high school years. I hope it doesn't end up clashing too much with other people's idea of high school.

Note2: English is not my native language, so regardless of research and editing, there may be some errors I’m unable to detect. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's Friday afternoon, near the end of the Algebra class, but more importantly, it's the end of the semester. The group is only a few ticks of the clock away from winter break. The only sounds in the classroom come from numb-handed students scribbling on their notebooks, and the mellow humming of the one sitting at the old desk in the front corner.

They are writing a final essay about the content reviewed throughout the semester, what they learned, why it's important, why they liked it, and things like that. Alternatively, they could write a whole manifesto of hate to the teacher, to algebra, or the world in general, if they sowanted. The only things the teacher asked for was eight pages of text, and finished within the hundred minutes of class they had on Fridays, as designated by the group's schedule.

Raivis, sitting in the middle of the front row, looks up at the clock over the whiteboard, a drop of sweat runs down his forehead. He relaxes the grip on his pencil, cue the feel of pins and needles as he stretches his fingers.

"Five minutes," he mutters.

The teacher, seating on his desk in silence, stops humming, along with his calculation of the student's final grades.

"Five minutes!?" A voice echoes from across the room.

A collective gasp and muffled muttering fill the teacher's ears.

Raivis' sight is blocked by a towering figure standing in front of his desk. The figure leans closer, revealing the smiling face of the teacher, Ivan Braginsky.

"Are you done, Mr. Raivis?"

Chills run down the spine of the small student.

"I ju-just... two more left."

Mr. Braginsky kept smiling. He gently places a hand on Raivis' head, and looks him in the eyes.

"The clock doesn't care you're staring at it. Mind your own work, before time runs out, yes?"

Raivis bites his lower lip from the inside, and remains silent. He resumes writing his paper without looking up at the teacher again. Pleased, Mr. Braginsky pats his head and goes on to walk around the classroom, nonchalantly. He happily strokes his red and pink scarf as he walks, the part wrapped around his neck. Not one of Raivis' classmates dare turn their heads towards the teacher.

"Remember this is an optional task you can do, if you want (or need) extra points. Because I don't want failing students. This is my Christmas gift for you. That's why I will take no less than 10 pages of text, as a sign of your appreciation, yes?".

The glasses of the guy sitting left to Raivis fall off his face and on his notebook.

"You said nine!" Says, Toris, who sat in the right corner of the middle row.

"Oh, is that how you say 'eleven' in your native language?" Mr. Braginsky chuckles.

Everyone groans at Toris.

Mr. Braginsky takes the empty seat in the middle of the room, right among his students. He begins talking outloud, tapping his fingers on the desk. No one was sure if he was doing it to distract them away from the last precious minutes they had left or not. He could be testing their ability to focus, to work under pressure, he could just want to ruin their lives (as every teenager thinks about any teacher, ever). They were all too familiar with Mr. Braginsky's subtle "tests" of character. Although they share the sentiment expessed by Mr. Braginsky, they do their best to tune out his voice.

"Uff, it's getting suffocated here." He pulls on his scarf with two fingers. "Who though repurposing a storage room as a classroom was a good idea? Greedy people, trying to save money instead of making more buildings. No wonder you guys call it the 'the Rat Trap', huh?"

A rat trap indeed. Located, next to the chemistry lab, the two rooms were built together in a one-story building, separate but next to the main building for classrooms which blocked whatever sunlight could have gotten through. Thus the room tends to be low, yet suffocating at times. There was barely enough space for fifteen people, and had four 30cm x 30 cm stuck-closed windows on upper walls.  

"And the other teachers said 'You should be fine, you have the smallest group'. I'm sure in the next semester, the room distribution will be a total bloodbath. Mr. Jones will fight for the same room I choose, I bet. Regardless I'll make sure we get a better place for us this spring... Yeah, I will be your teacher next year too, hehe." He continues rambling.

The echoes of the ringing bell penetrate the walls of the Rat Trap. As soon as they hear it, most people put their pencils down and start packing their belongings. Some people sight in relief, others from exhaustion. Others shake their hands in the air to relieve the numbness and someone in the back corner starts crying. Meanwhile, Mr. Braginsky gets up and returns to his desk, without sitting down.

"Time's up, turn in your papers. Leave them on my desk here. I'll have them graded by Monday, and I'll send the final grades to you all via e-mail in the evening of the same day."

No matter what face the kids are making at him, with a fatherly smile Mr. Braginsky wishes merry Christmas to each one of them as they leave. One by one, the youths place their essays on the desk, not before stapling the pages together with the teacher's stapler, as they usually did. He put it there for the students after all.

"Brother," mutters Natalya, as she stands in front of Mr. Braginsky, adjusting her white ribbon. "Thank you for your hard work."

She hands a thick bundle of pages to Mr. Braginsky. With a gesture, she insists on him receiving it with his hands, instead of leaving in on the desk. He raises an eyebrow.

"Natalya? You don't need extra points at all. You could have gone home already."

"I wrote you a letter. I don't want you to read anyone else's paper first, it must be that one, okay?"

"Merry Christmas?" Says Mr. Braginsky, patting her sister on the shoulder as she turns to leave.

And so as the teacher begins to pack his belongings too, he notices a girl with pink flowers adorning her head, sitting at the bottom left corner. It is Mei, the youngest sister of Mr. Wang, who also teaches algebra. Hoever she chose not to have a relative as her teacher.

Mr. Braginsky gives her a puzzled look and approaches her. Mei seems to be focused on her notebook, moving her pencil with meticulous dedication. A whole two minutes have passed. By the time Mei raises her head, Mr. Braginsky is sitting next to her, leaning on the desk as he stares at her work with clenched teeth, hidden by a lips-shut smile.

"Don't your eyes get tired of drawing in a place with such bad lighting?"

Mei jumps on her seat and slams her hands on the notebook.

"Mr. B.!" Mei she raises the corners of her mouth in a dubiously successful attempt to sound calm. "You're still here?"

"I am the one locking the classroom door today."

"I didn't mean to make you wait, Mr. B., I'll go home right away."

"Did you take on the final task?" He says, fingers fidgetting, focusing on Mei's small black spot near her chin, probably a pencil graphite stain.

"My grade is fine, as you told me, so I didn't write anything".

"Is it too cold outside or something? Why didn't you leave early, like your friend Lien? Maybe you like my class that much?"

Mei looks down, without moving her hands off the notebook. Several seconds of silence ensue.

"Alright, let me see it."

Mei's eyes widen. Her hands press even more on the notebook.

"But it's nothing," she stutters,

"Yes, so let me see it."

"But..."

Mei sighs, her face turns red and quietly slides her graphite-stained palms away from her work, revealing the semi-realistic unfinished image of two men, suspiciously similar to Mr. Braginsky and Mr. Jones, engaging in what looked like "adult activities". Mr. Braginsky slowly extends his arm to grab the notebook, looking Mei in the eye as if to ask for permission to take it. Mei remains silent.  Mr. Braginsky then proceeds to inspect the drawing, now on his hands.

"I have to questions, Miss Wang."

An imaginary knot forms in her stomach. She closes her eyes and folds her arms around her abdomen, anticipating the scariest scolding of her life as if she was preparing to take a fist to the gut. And so she nods in silence.

"Number one: Is that Mr. Jones, tying me up with the candy cane-pattern scarf I got from my grandma?" He inquires, pointing at the goofy scarf he's wearing.

Mei nods again.

"Number two: Did you draw my nose smaller on purpose?"

Mei is unable to hold back her nervousness any longer.

"Mr. B. please the don't tell my brother about this, please don't show it to him! I'm really sorry, I'll accept my punishment but please don't-"

"Shhh Shhh...  Can I keep it?" He interrupted.

"Eh?" Mei stopped cold. "Do you... actually like it?" She stuttered.

"Well, no, but I can't let you keep it, much less actually finish it."

"I'm really sorry."

Mr. Braginsky chuckled behind his hand.

"Making a fuzz about this would be a waste of time, right? Just go home and don't draw these things at school. That's my Christmas gift for you, what do you say?"

Mei placed her hand on her chest.

"So, my Christmas gift for you would be letting you keep it?"

Mr. Braginsky chokes on his own breath.

"The gift is not drawing these things at school anymore. Now go, shoo shoo." Mr. Braginsky gestures, still smiling.

"Thank you, thank you so much! Merry Christmas, Mr. B.!" Mei exclaimed. She masterfully ripped the drawing from the notebook without damaging it, handed it back to Mr. Braginsky and hurried to pack everything. She then runs away from the Rat Trap more happy than scared.

Mr. Braginsky is still in the desk next to where Mei was, staring at the confiscated drawing, with narrowed eyes and furrowed brows. The rythmic tapping of his fingers echo across the room.  Soon the image blurs as his minds simply wanders off.

"But why with Mr. Jones?" He thinks out loud.

It wasn't that Mr. Jones was a man, just like himself. It was that wether in public or in private, they were seldom "nice" to one another, if ever at all. How did so many kids get the idea that they could "love" each other? He didn't understand. Did Mr. Jones say something he was not aware of? Did they do it as a form of mockery? Could it be they noticed something?

"Because I'm the best teacher ever?"

Startled and holding his breath, Mr. Braginsky folds the sheet of paper with the drawing and places it on his lap to cover it under the desk. He looks up to where the voice came, only to see Mr. Alfred F. Jones, the physics teacher. standing just past the entrance of the room, staring back at him. Mr. Braginsky exhales and shakes his arm in a dismissive "go away" kind of motion.

"Ivan, how's it going? Found anything interesting? Said Mr. Jones, with an intentional, emphasized mispronounctiation of the "I" in "Ivan" as "eye".

"Alf," Ivan greeted him, referencing the extraterrestial protagonist of the eponymous 80's sitcom. "What do you want?"

Alfred goes to Ivan's desk and casually grabs the other's suitcase.

"Do you have, like, a stapler?"

Ivan puts Mei's drawing in the pocket of his coat and returns to his desk. He yanks the suitcase away from Alfred's hands.

"Not for you. Besides, I think I ran out of staples after my kids used it just now." Ivan replied with a dry tone. "And I don't want you to lose it or break it with your clumsy gorilla hands anyway."

Alfred smirks.

"So you're admitting I'm stronger, after all?"

"Clumsy." Ivan replies, walking to the door. Alfred follows him.

"Come on, I forgot mine at home. I need to staple my student's papers!" He begs. "And some other documents too," he mutters.

Ivan stops walking and turns to Alfred.

"Show me the papers and I'll staple them myself."

"Ivan, do you really think I'm gonna break it?"

No response.

"Man, the mug incident was an accident, I'm not asshole enough to break other people's stuff on purpose."

Ivan stepps out of the Rat Trap and closes the door behind him, with Alfred still inside.

"Oh you did break something of mine and it was not just a mug," Ivan replies, making noises with the keychain as to make Alfred think he's going to really lock the door and leave.  

Alfred takes a deep breath and exhales. He rubs his temples then folds his arms.

"Then will you come with me to the teacher's lounge? I left them there. I have to present some of those papers real soon. I don't have time to drive home or look for one in a store, you know. I'll treat you to lunch if you want."

Ivan opened the door slowly, only enough to poke his head inside, like a shy little kid.

"I'll help, but I'll choose the meal. I don't want cheap trash-burgers get it?."

"F-- yes!" Alfred cheers and slams the door open. He runs outside, pulling a startled Ivan from the arm.

"Hey I have to lock the door!" Ivan complains. And so Alfred freezes on the spot, almost stumbling on his feet.

"Ah yeah, I forgot. Lock the door, then. It's just that I'm really short on time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The lingering scent of cheap coffee floats in the air within the teachers lounge. The old coffee machine emmits a buzzing sound that everyone doubts is normal but no ones cares enough to actually check. Ivan and Alfred are sitting in the worn out but strangely comfortable couch next to the teachers' lockers.

Ivan had taken off his scarf, it was neatly folded and put on the couch, next to his lap. Under the beige coat he wears a wine-red turtleneck sweater, so his neck remains covered, as usual. Alfred had rolled up his sleeves and loosened his tie for the sake of comfort.

They two of them were alone in the room as most other teachers usually tried to go home early at this time of the year. There was a small coffee table in front of the couch, where they placed a tall tower of paper sheets Alfred had been passing mini bunches of paper to Ivan, who carefully stapled them together and placed them in the opposite corner of the table. Within minutes they had picked a good rythm of work.

"So, how did your kids do this semester?" Alfred grabs the next bunch of paper sheets and hands it to Ivan after asking.

"Overall a few low grades but no failed students."

"Well my students didn't get anything lower than 80."

"In last week's meeting you complained that 'kids nowadays don't care about science,' I recall? You called them burger-flipping babies then."

"I was mad at the time," Alfred laughs. "And I meant just the neglectful ones... But okay, my kids got nothing lower than 70. There, I said it."

Alfred grabs a thick bunch of documents and sorts them out appropiately. As he inspects them he holds the documents in such a way that the contents can't be seen by Ivan. He gives the next batch to his helper and leaves the rest aside. A single sheet falls off from them and glides unceremoniously until it lands on Ivans feet. Alfred freezes. Ivan picks it up without thinking much of it until he flips the sheet and sees the other side of the page.

A drawing made with blue ink, maybe from a regular pen. The sheet has some tomato sauce stains, it seems. It features cutesy characters holding hands. A blushing, big-nosed character kisses a spectacled character on the cheek. The artstyle looks like what the quiet and mysterious school librarian would call "moe", as Ivan learned during their rare small talk. As "stylized" as the appearance of the characters is, he grimaces when he gets to figure out the character's identities and feels the earlier situation with Mei kind of repeat itself. All within the same hour.

Ivan glances at Alfred with a serious face, without saying anything, holding the cutesy drawing for Alfred to see. Alfred loosens his grip on the next batch of documents so much they fall to the floor. He immediately picks them up and rushes to take the drawing away from the other's hands.

"I confiscated that thing from a student who was not paying attention," he says after clearing his throat.

Ivan looks down on the mess of sheets on Alfred feet and notices at least three other similar drawings lying among the "normal" documents. After shaking his head from side to side, Ivan stands up and stretches his body.

"I'll get myself some coffee," he says, but when he tries to step away, his foot stumbles on the table's leg and the tower of unstapled sheets is collapses and is now everywhere. Alfred snarls and just throws the paper on his hands onto the table, blending in with the rest of the mess.

"Goddamn it, what a great help you turned out to be! Talk about clumsy!"

"It's your fault for being so disorganized!... And having weird things among important documents!"

"Weird things, you say? Well it's NOT my fault you're so delicate you get offended so easily. I bet you doodled things like this yourself when we were in high school."

"I bet you now wish I did!" Ivan raises his voice. He takes his suitcase and is about to rush out of the lounge, when Alfred talks back once more.

"Ivan."

And so he stops, but doesn't turn back to face him.

"Your stapler," Alfred says, holding the tool with a stretched arm, trying to get it to reach Ivan. Even though Ivan is not seeing, so he wouldn't know.

"It's yours now. Merry Fucking Christmas." Ivan grunts and storms out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"The asshole forgot his dumb scarf," Alfred muttered to himself. "No way in hell I'm gonna go give it back to him."

More than an hour has passed since Ivan left the teacher's lounge. Alfred is sitting alone in the couch. Four neatly organized piles of documents were placed on the small table in front of him. The stapler sits on his lap as though and he pets it as though it was a living cat. Not too ago he had finished sorting out the last batch of documents, All of them now stapled together. He leans back and beholds the result of his efforts.

The first pile of paper corresponds to his final reports on the class and its members. The second and largest one corresponds to the planned content to review in the next semester. The third one is made of student's graded homework that he couldn't return to them on time. The last one is a collection of assorted documents and other non-school-related curiousities that had found their way into Alfred's current paperwork.  

Alfred reached to the fourth pile. He grabbed it hole and placed it on his lap, not before putting his new stapler aside. The pile contained old tests, some postcards, wrinkly notes about past lessons, some letters from his students from years ago, some pictures, and, who would have though, more drawings like the one that sparked the short-lived argument an hour ago.

The cutesy drawing is the sixth drawing featuring him and his coworker that he confiscated during that semester alone. The first time he caught a student drawing or writing such material he was shocked, almost traumatized, he could have said at the time. However, somewhere along the way he began to find it amusing. Now he would only confiscate material and punish the student if it was being used as a distraction during class. Otherwise he'd even joke about it and keep the students guessing. It's not like other coworkers didn't make similar jokes about them from time to time.

Of course Alfred would have never let Ivan know about that guilty pleasure of his. Not after the things he had said in the past, and has come to regret now. But more on that comes later. Now as he beholds his secret collection he wonders, why is he even keeping those dumb doodles around? In his mind, most of them look like specimens of failed human experimentation, begging for the sweet release of death. And yet...

Alfred moves the fourth pile back to the table and rests his hand on the side. His hand lands on the still folded, abandoned candy cane scarf. He slaps it away and it comes undone on the floor. Alfred sighs lets his body collapse on his side onto the couch, like a ragdoll.

His stretched arm hangs from the couch. Before he knows it, he's grabbing the scarf again. He brings it back to himself and strokes the fabric. He starts to knead it back and forth with his fingers, similar to how cats do when they find a comfortable spot for a nap. The scarf is soft and way more fluffy than its appearance would indicate.

And so Alfred digs into his pocket and takes out his cell phone to start texting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A brief vibration comes from Ivan's pocket on his coat. He's at a grocery store, standing in front of a stack full of small potato sacks. He's looking for ingredients for tonight's dinner. The store is very crowded. He hopes the vibration of the phone is not something important enough for him to need to call back.

Ivan takes the phone out, it's just a notification from the app store, a pending update for one of those annoying preinstalled applications that he never uses.

"I thought I turned those off." Once he places his phone back on his pocked, he puts a potato sack in the shopping cart, next to the cabbage, the carrots, and the onions. He turns his head around, making sure there's nothing else around that he might want to take. He clutches his turtle neck, forgetting once again that he left his scarf back at the school. He had an habit of stroking it to keep his hands busy when he was nervous, anxious, or bored. Concluding the assessment of his surroundings, he moves on to the meat and fish section. It didn't take too long for him to find what he needed, but he now he has to wait in a very long queue just so he can pay for the groceries and go home.

So Ivan stands there, advancing mini steps each several minutes. All the while the speakers around the store are emit obnoxious Christmas carol remixes as dictated by modern tradition. In a way he thinks it's kind of nice. To be reminded that there are other things in life to be mad about, other than whatever spurs out of a dumb, old high school c...

"Hey, sir. Your turn for the cashier," Ivan hears someone behind him on the queue say.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alfred locked his car and made his way through the parking lot of the mall. Both hands are hidden on the pocket of his jacket to protect them from the cold. He is whistling the Ruldolph the red-nosed reindeer song. He was interrupted when someone called him from several meters behind him.

He turned back. It was almost 5pm and the sun had begun to set a while ago. The sunset glare hurts Alfreds eyes and obscures the figure of the person standing in front of it, calling Alfred. He can't quite make out the words the other person is shouting. As he approaches the figure gets clear enough for him to figure out it's just Ivan. He's next to his car, carrying a grocery bag on each hand. Now that Ivan too, has a clearer sight of Alfred, his neutral expression changes to that of disgust.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Ivan exclaimed.

"Excuse me?" Alfred was confused.

"Don't 'excuse me'. Why the fuck are you wearing my scarf?"

"Oh, that. Welp." Alfred shrugged. "It's warm."

The two of them stood in there for the longest ten seconds ever.

"Are you gonna give it back to me or...?"

Alfred clicked his tongue.

"Of course I will." He ripped the scarf off of himself and threw it at Ivan. "Take your gay-ass scarf."

Ivan catches the garment, making sure none of it is dragged on the ground. One of the bags almost falls off, but he holds them well. He doesn't put the scarf back on. Just keeps it under his arm.

"That says more about you than about me." He replies.

Alfred lowers his head, awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

"Whatever. So uh, lunch is like, cancelled, I guess? Is dinner ok?"

"I'll cook dinner at home." Ivan says. he taps his foot as he waits for Alfred to leave. Now that he got back his personal property he can carry on with his evening.

"What are you gonna make?" Alfred is still there.

"Shchi."

Alfred squints, lips curled a little bit.

"It's cabbage soup, you uncultured swine."

"Eeew. You know, my pal's restaurant serves the best lasagna ever. He's from Italy, you know."

"Thanks, I know. I'll take my sisters there sometime soon."

Ivan opens his car. He shoves the grocery bags in the front passenger seat and gets inside.

"Okay then why the hell did you shout at me from across the damn parking lot if you are gonna be like this?" Alfred yells from the side of the car, knocking on the front glass.

Ivan lowers his window.

"I just wanted my scarf. Saw a red-pink dot in the distance. I more-less knew it was you. Wondered if you carried it with you, but didn't think you'd be actually wearing it. I may be messed up, but you're a total creep. Just go away."

Ivan turns the keys. The engine sounds like it's going to start but then dies off. Both men's eyes widen and turn their heads to the front of the car. Ivan tries to start the engine again to no avail. Alfred folds his arms, expectant, until Ivan gives up on the tenth failed attempt. Defeated, Ivan leans on the steering wheel, his head presses the honk button. Some bystanders a few cars away begin to direct their attention towards them, but Ivan doesn't care. Alfred leans on the car, laughing histerically.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "This is the kind of day that makes me regret being born." Ivan says as he chops fresh cabbage. The knife gets closer the fingers of his other hand and pokes the side of the thumb. Unsurprised, he leaves the knife and opens the nearest drawer to look for a band-aid.

"Look at it in a different way," says Alfred, who's turned back from him. "You got your scarf back, we managed to take your car for repair so you can have it back within the weekend. You don't need to drive to work for now anyway."

Alfred sniffs and grunts, trying to hold back the tears. "I even gave you a ride back to here, which is an hour away from where we were." He puts aside the onions he's chopping and rushes to get a napkin.

"I even volunteered to chop the onions you ungrateful piece of shit." He wipes his nose so the swearing gets muffled at the end.

"No one asked you to stay for dinner either." Ivan puts on a band-aid and resumes his tasks. "Besides, kids who complain about chores don't get dessert, you know," he jokes. He acknowledges Alfred has a point, though. His mood begins to lighten up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while they managed to cook a decent cabbage soup. Alfred didn’t waste the opportunity to mock Ivan for eating "grandpa food", despite getting a second helping himself. Alfred was supposed to leave not long after dinner, but a couple of cookies and cups of sbiten later, the two of them are at Ivan's rooftop, simply chatting, gazing the sky at midnight. The roof was slightly angled, with blue flat roof tiles. And a thin layer of snow covered the surface, but none of that bothered them. It was also a one-story house, so they were not quite worried about falling off.

Alfred lies on his back. His arms are folded behind his head as a pillow. Sitting next to him is Ivan, hugging his knees with one arm, and hugging a two thirds-empty bottle of vodka with the other. Ivan tries to lie down on his back too, but is encumbered by another empty bottle behind him. He pushes it away with his free hand. When trying to lie down again. His head lands on the bottle, but he's a bit too drunk to care, he just stays like that. That's going to be his pillow. It is to be noted that while there are two open bottles, Alfred has abstained from taking a sip, knowing that he'll eventually have to drive home.

"You know, I kinda regret not studying Astronomy at all in university," Ivan said, biting the tip of the bottle. In the end he had gone for Computer Science.

"Me too," Alfred replied. "But a degree on Engineering for me wasn't bad at all. Not like I'm doing much with it, though."

Ivan reaches to Alfred and pulls his sleeve slightly to get his attention.

"Your telescope still works?"

"Pfft, that thing's been broken for years," Alfred replies. "I never got rid of it, though. I've been saying I'm 'fixing' it for years, but it's just gathering dust in my basement."

"Why cling onto old stuff, though." Ivan takes a sip of Vodka.

"It's not old stuff until it becomes irrelevant, right?" Alfred turns his body on its side to face Ivan. His head rests on one hand. "We still love space and stuff. Hell, we are gazing at it right now!"

"Yeah, even the other club members called us weird." Ivan gulps down the remaining contents of the bottle. "If you want, I could help you clean your basement after I leave the town."

"Oh that'd be... Wait what?" with furrowed brows, Alfred's eyes widen.

"What?" Ivan doesn't understand the reaction.

"What did you say?"

"I'd help you throw the trash." Ivan shruggs.

"What do you mean you're gonna move out of town?" Alfred drags his own body closer to Ivan.

"I'm thinking of it." Ivan plays with his hair, dodges his gaze. He clasps both hands together, doesn’t elaborate further.

"And your job?"

"Teaching has always been part-time stuff. I'm more established as a programmer now. I'm just waiting for a reply from any of the places I applied into."

"What the- Why didn't you tell me about it?"

Ivan turns his back on Alfred. He hugs the empty bottle of vodka like a teddy bear.

"That matters because...?"

"Then just... why?"

"I really want to get rid of the old stuff myself." Ivan replies with a hand his chest. "You know what I mean?"

Alfred stops making questions. He lies on his back again and sights. His breath is visible in the warm vapor escaping his mouth. His glasses become foggy so he takes them out. And so he finally notices that there's no moon to be seen anywhere in the firmament. But the stars were still there, still, beautful, The location of Ivan's home near the countryside made the precious stars even more visible on the darker environment. Even if visible, a full moon would not outshine them that night. He can almost hear them twinkle, if such a thing existed outside of cartoon sound effects. He turns to Ivan. He is seeing them too. They are reflected on his irises.

Alfred hadn't paid as much attention to space and the stars as he'd have liked after he started university. Even less so after his telescope broke down. It was the telescope Ivan gave him for his birthday, when they were on their high school's Astronomy club. Meeting Ivan again as a teacher in the same school gave both of them a chance to get back to those interests, after having to push them aside in favor of their new duties and obligations.

Though that came only recently. Right now they can to tolerate each other, yet at the time of their first encounter as teachers, after separation during university, Ivan wanted nothing to do with him. It was like their time as two territorial chimps posing as teenage nerds was the only relationship they ever had. As if they had never managed to become best friends before they had to part ways. And it was all his fault, he thought; for as early as that reencounter Alfred realized that just like the stars, Ivan too had become inaccessible after he smashed the telescope with his baseball bat.

"Dude, maybe you should go to bed, you know," Alfred sat up. "I should go home too, I guess."

"I'm not done with this vodka." Ivan declared, lifiting the bottle with force.

Alfred slaps the bottle out of Ivan's hands and it falls off the rooftop. The shrill sound of glass shattering offscreen leaves the state of the ground by the house's entrance to be imagined. Ivan glares at Alfred, a few veins seem to be popping out.

"It was empty anyway. Come on big boy, you drunk."

A grmbly Ivan lifts his arm towards Alfred. Alfred takes his hand and helps him sit up. Ivan stands up on his own, but as soon as he starts showing signs of dizziness Alfred holds him. He makes sure Ivan gets back inside in one piece. All the while Alfred is not even trying to hide that Ivan is a bit too heavy for him. But Alfred would rather place the blame on Ivan being "fat" instead of lack of strength or exhaustion due to the time.

At some point even before they left the rooftop Ivan's body decides without telling anyone that it will stop cooperating altogether. So Alfred has to carry him all the way back to his bedroom as well. Ivan's head and arms are perched onto Alfred's shoulder and the tip of his feet are being dragged on the floor.

"What the hell Ivan? You're effin' fat." 

"I'm big boned," Ivan whispers.

"Big-boned my ass!" 

Panting and grouching, Alfred grouches and throws Ivan on his bed. His legs are left hanging from the edge of the bed after he falls like the potato sack he bought earlier. He giggles from the slight bouncing on the mattress

"Really? I don't want to see and find out for myself," Ivan talks back and crawls his way into the center of the bed to fit his whole body in.

"Shut up. You're the fat one here."

"Don't worry, Alf. Softer bodies are cute too." Ivan makes squeezing motions with both hands.

"You say the weirdest things when you're wasted." Chuckling, Alfred slaps Ivan's hands then hides them on his pockets.

"Who's wasted?"

"You are wasted."

Ivan shakes his head left to right. Standing next to the bed, Alfred leans close to Ivan.  

"Come on, big boy, take off your shoes and go to sleep already." He says, patting the other's large chest. "Let's hope you don't wake up all hung over. I'll lock the doors well and turn off the lights, so don't worry, okay? Good night.

Alfred walks out of the room and closes the door. But Ivan keeps talking, seemingly not realizing Alfred is not there anymore.

"Say, Alfred. We didn't use to be like this. Do you still want us to remain as rivals? Even now?"

The door of the room is thrown open. Alfred knows the best would have been to ignore the other's rambling and leave, but he is overcome by a an impulse even stronger than him. His excuse is that he is just making sure Ivan's really saying what he heard or that he's not asking for help for whatever reason. He just stops and keeps listening, though. He is yet to step back inside.

"When I said I regret not studying Astronomy, I meant it."

Ivan is now lying on his belly. His face rests against a pillow, so his words are muffled, but Alfred is able to make out most of what he's saying with little trouble.

"We've been so childish. And it's my fault we are like this."

Alfred is uncertain about the point Ivan is trying to get to. Maybe is just pointless drunken rambling, but he wants to listen still.

He adjusts his glasses and leans on the doorframe.  Ivan turns his body again to face the window next to the bed and curls his body in a ball. Even his wide back begins to look small in Alfred eyes.

"I'm sorry for moving back to Russia instead of going for the University we wanted. I left you alone, and told you confusing, unwanted things too."

Alfred's heart becomes heavy inside his chest, his lips shut tight, curled downwards. He steps inside and returns to Ivan's side. He sits on his bed. Ivan face is still turned away from him.

"Since we met again I've been doing as you told me before I left. But it hurts, you know, going back to this after we got to become friends."

Alfred gets further in the bed and pulls Ivan's shoulder to face him. Ivan looks at him with squinty, glassy eyes. It is uncertain if alcohol is to blame for that.

"Don't touch me," Ivan whines. He languidly throws a pillow to alfred's face. "I'm sorry Alfred but what do you even want anymore? You rejected me then, but won't stop teasing me now."  

"Hey Ivan I want to..."

"I don't want to like you anymore. You're too much."

Alfred's heart becomes even heavier. So much his body alone will be crushed under its weight. He allows himself to fall on top of Ivan to wrap his arms around him. His glasses fall off his face and on his hand, but he tosses them away. Ivan lifts both knees together. He wants to curl up again, but is unable to.

"I'm the one who's sorry," said Alfred.

He puts both hands on Alfred's sides, but is hesitant to return the gesture. Alfred buries his face in the gap between Ivan's neck and shoulder. Alfred's cold cheeks against the warmth of his body sends chills down Ivan's spine. The skin underneath his clothes get goosebumps. He closes his eyes.

"I shouldn't have reacted like that when you told me." Alfred muttered to the other's ear.

He clings tightly to Ivan's body. His resistance is waning, but Alfred hugs tighter and tigther as he continues.

"I was a stupid kid just like you. I was confused, and sad... and I got angry."

A knot swells inside Alfred's throat, he jitters, his arms and legs tremble, but he wouldn't stop.

"It was easier to hit you and call you disgusting and a traitor, instead of saying "goodbye" and accepting that maybe... I felt the same for you too."

Alfred's lungs run out of air after saying that. He makes a pause to breathe. Ivan doesn't respond. He opens his watery eyes to see Alfred, but everything is blurry in his eyes and hazy in his head. He can't tell if he's dreaming or not, so he too, wraps his arms tight around the other. He runs his hands back and forth on his back. He wants to confirm he's holding the real deal and not an alcohol-induced hallucination.

"Ivan, I didn't want you to leave... I don't want you to leave again now. I like you too."

And like that, the thoughts weighting down on Alfred's heart escape through the air he exhales. Ivan turns his face in and goes for a kiss. He misses and smooches the corner of the other's lips. Smiling, Alfred cups Ivan's face on one hand and joins their lips properly. And it was all great until Alfred noticed the smell and taste of Vodka and remembered that Ivan was drunk as f...

"Wait wait wait. Stop."

Alfred gets up. Suddenly he doesn't feel as heavy anymore. He picks his glasses from the floor and fixes his jacket.

"No good. Let's... try again when you're sober," He says after clearing his throat. However, Ivan was already passed out.

After realizing Ivan's done for the night, Alfred begins walking in circles around the room at a pace so fast he's almost hopping like a rabit. He feels so energized he might as well do it. He cover his mouth to muffle what would otherwise be uncontrollable squealing.

After the euphoria wears off the events that transpired moments ago sink in completely. In a single day did they just sort out years of buried feelings and childish grudges? Oh boy, no. But they sure had one hell of a start.

Now A stream of questions flooded Alfred's mind. With what had happened, does that mean they are lovers now? Will Ivan even remember what happened? If he doesn't remember, will he tell him and explain what happened? Would Ivan believe him and/or confirm his confession?

He doesn't know if he should feel happy or scared. More importantly, he's thinking whether or not he should stay over tonight. It's not like he doesn't want to go home. However, leaving a drunk person alone is always dangerous, even when they are asleep.  

As carefully as he can, Alfred takes off Ivan's shoes and leaves them next to the bed. He turns Ivan's body on its side and puts him on a position to lessen the choking risk in case he gets nauseous; although so far Ivan doesn't show signs of sickness. His breath is calm and follows a normal pace too.

A bit hesitant, Alfred decides to check Ivan's pockets, only so he doesn't crush or damage anything under his weight or when rolling on bed. He takes out Ivan's phone and wallet out of his pants and leaves them on the night table. Ivan didn't seem to have anything on his jacket, but then Alfred pulls out a now wrinkly folded paper sheet. He opens it and the more he examines it the more flustered he becomes. Of all the weird erotic art of them two their students had made, that one was by far the most detailed and realistic-looking as of yet.

He could only wonder where did that thing come from. Leaving the drawing together with the other objects, Alfred goes to pull the thickest blanket he can find out of the closet and covers Ivan with it. He rushes out of the room to lock the house properly, makes a trip to the kitchen, and then returns to Ivan with a tall glass of water, just in case.

Alfred leans close to Ivan and kisses his forehead, an affectionate, loud smooch. He sits on the bed again, close to Ivan's legs. The wisest thing to do for now is to stay there and take care of his beloved rival. At least until he wakes up. Whatever comes next for them they will figure. After a day like that, It's not like he will be able to fall sleep anyway.  

The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Final note:

Writing this was one hell of a ride. This is my first fanfic ever, and I'm not a very good writer when it comes to prose. But I gave it my best shot, and wrote this with lots of love. I'm sorry if the overall tone or mood is too bittersweet or if the humour is kinda sour. I also hope Ivan and Alfred’s backstory wasn’t too hard or confusing to piece totgether. I'd still say the ending is a happy one, even if there's an air of uncertainty for the future haha. 

Thank you for reading and for your god-tier patience, Patch. I love your blog.

[bakubros]

Tagged by @artsytodoroki, @minaaashido, @pilotpig! This was so much fun to fill out, guys! Thanks for tagging me. 💞

Rules: Answer 11 questions, Create 11 of your own, and Tag 11 people!

I’ll tag: @pinkcupofcherrytea, @dekudorks, @lupizora, @enonmia,  @shulksfeels, @mysonisthesun, @a-erith, anddddd.... just about anyone else who’s interested in doing this c; (i’m a lazy tagger, rip.) amy, shy, piggie, i’d love to see your answers as well if you have some free time! 

(questions are at the veryyyyyy bottom of this read more, lol)

Amy’s Questions:

If you were a character in the BNHA universe, what quirk would you want to have? *nervous sweating* I actually have a really detailed OC I made for Hero Aca and now that I have the opportunity to show her off to the world, I’m getting nervous? LOL. I’ll just say that the quirk’s name is tentatively “flying fish” and then leave it at that for now... Until I find the courage to brag about it in depth... (I am actually in love with the idea and character I came up with, I’m just ??? Suddenly nervous for no reason?? LMAO)

Do you know your MBTI? If you do, what is it? INFP!

Are you somebody who thinks before you act or do you act before you think? It honestly depends on the context of the situation. When I’m with friends or people I’m comfortable with or when I’m tired, I act before I think. When I’m skeptical of others or anxious about how I’m being perceived, I think before I act.

What’s your current obsession? Mmm, tough! I’ve been really into watching movies recently, particularly the Oscar-nominated films. I’m sad because I side with the New Academy on a lot of their picks but know that the Old Academy still dominates so rip ;;;

If you ever wanted to change your name, what would it be? I used to hate my name and thought about changing it to “Willow Kathryn” instead of “Jessica Kathryn.” I don’t know what I was thinking when I was younger; I just know that, now that I’m older, I would never go through with such a change. LMAO

Least and favorite subjects in school? Favorite was literature, least favorite was (and will always be) math.

Describe yourself in one or two words. Passionate, Empathetic

How tall are you? 157 cm (though I like to think I’ve grown a bit ;;;;)

Do you have a phobia? I don’t think that any of my fears are strong enough to constitute a phobia? Though I will admit to an awful abhorrence of bugs.

Would you prefer to go where there’s less people or more people? I’m assuming you mean live? And if that’s the case, then less people. If it’s late at night or something though (like now!), I prefer to be around more people.

Do you believe that the world is divided into good and bad people or is everybody the same? if so, why? To assume that the world is Manichean feels like an antiquated, small-minded notion; to assume that everyone in the world is the same feels ignorant and dehumanizing. I believe that all “divisions” within our culture (I’m throwing morality into this category for the purpose of this question) are man-made constructs--in that sense, there’s no right or wrong answer. In my case, it’s just fundamental disagreement with the notion, lol. On the question of morality, however, I will say that I believe that all individuals exist on a spectrum and cannot be definitively good nor definitively bad; to label someone in a single category like that limits future perception of them and implies an inability for human change/growth.

Shy’s Questions:

[pre-school teacher voice] What do you want to be when you grow up? I wanted to be a teacher, and then a pediatrician, and then a writer, and then a professor. And now I’m back to teacher. We’ve come full circle. LOL.

What did you do today? GOT SOME OF MY SHIT TOGETHER!! Double-checked my degree audit with my advisers, met with the dean of my college to ensure that I’m on-track to meet the criteria for graduating summa cum laude with the dean’s medal in December, and discussed scholarship funding with some of my current sponsors. I thought that I was going to owe my school money after the summer, but it’s looking like they’re going to be paying me instead. 😎

What’s the last really good fanfic or meta you’ve read? I’ve... honestly been slacking really hard in the reading department for the fandom. I’ve been reading a lot of wips recently (which obviously haven’t been posted), but the last one that comes to mind is cherry chapstick on the tip of your tongue by oliviyay on ao3! 

Do you prefer saying “y’all” or “you guys?” You guys!

What is the last thing you watched? A video of Die Mannschaft’s coach talking about how proud he is of His Boys™️.

How are you feeling? I just really want the semester to be over because I’m tired of the workload? But at the same time I’m really antsy about that because it means graduation is just that much closer?? And idk if I’m fully ready for that?? Like, I know that I am but like... I still don’t feel like an adult lekrjwlekrri

Favorite sitcom? Parks and Recreation, hands down. I binged the entire series when I was going through a bad breakup, and whenever I can’t sleep or need a pick-me-up, the show always has my back. I’m p sure that if Netflix ever removes it I will die.

Anime or manga or neither? I’ve always been partial to manga!

Favorite kind of smoothie? The Beach Bum at the Tropical Smoothie Cafe! I like it because I’m a sucker for chocolate, but the ingredients in the smoothie still make me feel like I’m healthy.

Got any allergies? I’m mildly allergic to dust and pollen. For some reason I’m severely allergic to a certain species of grass. (And, because I have the best of luck, it’s the species of grass that is native to Florida. It’s everywhere I go and I just want to be able to sit in the park without breaking out into hives. ;;;)

What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever purchased? I just recently paid $800+ for VIP tickets for my parents and I to go see Elton John in concert. But, like, I know it’ll be worth it so I’m not even mad LMFAO

Piggie’s Questions:

What is your favorite soap scent? Ooooh, this is a really tough one! I can’t think of anything specific, but I’m a fan of scents with floral undertones!

What is the talent of yours that you are most proud of? Please go on and on and on about it!! (and don’t say you have no talents because I know all of you well enough to know that’s not true >:’D) Mmmmm, this is tough! This is more of a personality trait, I suppose, but I’m really stubborn when it comes to getting what I want; if I have a goal in mind, I do absolutely everything that I can to achieve it. So far, this has worked out really for  me, which is why I’m considering it a talent? I’m sure that a lot of it is just good luck though. LMAO. I think that I also have really good memory! I remember seemingly insignificant details really well, which makes for fun writing. c:

What is your favorite book and why? Or TV show/anime/movie if you don’t like books? The Things They Carried by Tim O’Brien--this book is honestly what inspired me to become a writer and holds a very special place in my heart. Second favorite would be The Mill on the Floss by George, and every time I’m reminded that it’s considered one of the worst books in classic lit I cry a little harder.

Which fictional character do you relate to the most? (And why, if you want?) Bakugou Katsuki, in terms of backstory (being praised when young and letting it go to my head), passion/ambition, and tendency for cursing. I’ve never been outspoken or antagonistic though, so that’s where our biggest difference is, lol. (He is still my Child though and I Would still die for him)

Do you have any collections? If so, what do you collect? Books and video games, I suppose! Though right now I’m also starting a magazine habit that I know I’ll regret in the future...

What are your top three best personality traits, and what is one thing about your personality that you want to work on? In no particular order: passion, empathy, and friendliness. I’d like to be more consistent outgoing when it comes to meeting new people and making new friends. I’ve been given many opportunities to form bonds with really awesome people, but I always get shy/awkward or just fudge it up. I’d really like to change that, haha.

Do you have any pets? If so, what is/are their personality/personalities like? I have a dog named Snowie! When she was younger, she was super rambunctious and liked playing in the dirt--wasn’t much of a cuddler. Now that she’s older, she’s a lot calmer. And she really likes cuddling which I really appreciate.

What is your preferred study method? Depends on what I’m doing specifically! If I’m reading lit or crit theory, I need an empty room, some good music, and soft lighting. If I’m preparing for a test or writing something up though, I need to be around other people. When it’s something that I don’t really want to do, constant supervision is necessary to make sure that I actually do it. LMAO.

What is the most adventurous thing you’ve ever done? Impromptu island hopping and cliff diving on my cousin’s boat during my last trip to the Philippines!

What are your life goals? Oh boy. Although I mentioned that I’m a very goal-oriented person, I’m really bad at designing long-term goals? I think that I’ve only ever gotten as far as five or so years in the future. I guess I’ll say that I want to work in a job that I enjoy, surround myself with people I care about, and do something that makes me feel like I’ve left a mark. (Ahhh, this was such a bad answer! Sorry! ;3;)

What is your favorite part of being on Tumblr? Probably the people I’ve met. The nice ones, ofc!

My Questions

What was your first big fandom? How did you get started in it and how did it inspire you?

Was there ever a fandom that you were a part of that you now regret? (catch me in middle school skipping class to watch the early premieres of the twilight movies and getting into intense debates over team edward v team jacob LMFAO)

If you had to pick an artist to create the OST of your life, who would it be? Why?

Tell me three things a person could say/do/believe to instantly taint your friendship/relationship with them.

I suck at cooking. Do you? If you don’t, what’s your favorite thing to make? (hmu with a recipe and i’ll love you for life lmfao)

If you had to name a daughter right now, what would you name them? What if you had a son? (Alternatively, if you have no interest in children, what name would you like to give a female/male character that you create?)

Let’s say you were to die right here, right now. What would be your biggest regret?

Think of one really, really good teacher you had. What made them so great?

What’s your “origin story”? If you had to explain why you are the way you are by only pointing at one event in your life, which one would you choose?

Tumblr is an actual hellhole. But what do you like about it?

How are you? (I’m stealing Shy’s question because I really like it lmao)

[pepper-mint]

Story time(?)

When I started to know about Undertale AUs, I made quite a few (mostly for fanfics since I write sometimes) but never posted them here (except Lucky and Unlucky Sans, but they’re just a design I made for fun). Although, there’s one AU I never posted on any site because I thought nobody would like it. I made it even before I knew who Ink was, to one who inspired me to start posting art for this fandom, and on those days there wasn’t many AUs/I didn’t know many AUs, but now I see it again, I regret not posting it because there are a lot now and some things that looks like I took them from other AUs and I don’t want people to think I stole them from popular AUs. In that time it sounded interesting and cool to me and a few days ago I had a nostalgia attack from it xD so I drew the design again, keeping the things the look like from other AUs because that was how I made it and I don’t consider it as a copy… and now I want to share it with you!

Here we go *breaths*

BEWARE: VERY LONG DESCRIPTION

The AU concept is that, after finishing the first pacifist run, Frisk (a male on this AU) started a genocide route over and over… until one day, Sans managed to make him remember the good times he had with the monsters. However, this was just a strategy to distract him and kill him before he could do anything. Frisk started to feel guilty and pressed the reset button, but Sans killed him after he did it, making the timeline to glitch. The reset button was corrupted and destroyed, making lots of changes on the timeline’s code.

Frisk was sent to the beginning, but not alone. This time, Sans was with him in the beginning, confusing them more. And that wasn’t to only thing that changed: Frisk grew up to 14 years old (He was 8 years old) and Sans was again an 16 years old (in human ages, of course) monster (he also was shorter than frisk).

Sans ignored the weird changes and, still blinded by rage, tried to end the battle, until they noticed that neither Flowey nor Toriel had appeared. Making a temporal truce, they made their way into de ruins trying to get some answers.

What they didn’t expect was to some creatures made of black goop(?) started to appear and attacked them without  mercy. Sans was the first to realize that they were the monsters that lived there, only that they were now corrupted beasts formed from their dust from the past genocide run.  The timeline couldn’t reset itself and corrupted everything, even itself.

Frisk didn’t want to believe it, but it was confirmed when he found Toriel. The once nice goat lady transformed into horrendous creature and he had to fight her alone. Sans had teleported somewhere to look for his brother. The fight alone wasn’t easy, having to run away so he couldn’t get murdered. The fallen human felt like it was his entire fault.

Meanwhile, Sans felt like living one of his nightmares. He found his brother and he also was corrupted, not even knowing who his brother was and trying to kill him. He couldn’t do anything; he couldn’t stand looking him like that. Sans didn’t attack, jut dodged and tried to make Papyrus remember him. This actually worked, for his brother stopped for a moment, fighting himself with foreign emotions and vague memories of him living with his brother. Sans managed to approach him and gave him a hug, making the promise of find the solution to this chaos… but this only lasted a moment. Papyrus attacked again, breaking Sans’s left eye and trespassing a bit of the infected code to him. He was about to kill him when someone Sans thought was dead appeared and saved him: Gaster.

Since the code didn’t reach the void, the skeleton monster didn’t get infected and managed to enter the timeline. He took his son to his laboratory where Frisk was and took a bit of his cracked skull to investigate the virus. Frisk and Sans didn’t know what to do and felt miserable, thinking that this was their fate. Meanwhile Gaster studied the virus.

It took a few days, but Gaster found a little bit of hope: a program capable to change the code and stop the virus for reproducing. With that, he created a patch for Sans, so he wouldn’t become a beast. However, this wasn’t enough. They had to save everyone.

Using some of his previous investigations, Gaster created some weapons for Sans and Frisk, they were capable of capturing the creatures and teleport them to special cells where Gaster could investigate them. They took a long time, but managed to capture everybody. Now they just had to wait and find a cure.

The three of them lived a “peaceful” life, enjoining each other company and some good things that this corruption brought (such as the expansion of the barrier to the bottom of the mountain. They could now exit mount Ebott and explore the forest) until Frisk found something weird.

Flowey was missing.

The demonic flower wasn’t anywhere and that made them worry. They searched in every possible place, going pale when they found a tear on their dimension with some corrupted vine on it. Sans investigated and found the Flowey managed to open a portal to the anti-void, jumping to other dimensions and creating more weird beasts. They now had to go after him, traveling through different AUs and trying to not be seen by anybody.

 ABOUT THE CHARACTERS:

badly drawn desing aaaaaa

Sans: 

A now 16 years old Skeleton who wants nothing but sleep without worrying about crazy creatures trying to kill him. He’s a lazy and somehow strong monster and Frisk’s best friend. His left eye is corrupted, making his magic to work badly. His Gasterblasters now have their own mind and often disappear in a fight. He misses his brother and hope they can save him and everybody. His patch works as a mini PC and communicator. It gives him information about the AU they’re in and makes him able to see the creatures, since they aren’t visible outside his AU. His ATTACK and DEFENSE remains the same, but his HP grew to 5. The cure doesn’t work on him for some reason.

Frisk:

 A 14 years old human. Frisk regrets his actions and feels guilty with all of this, but also is determined to save their former friends. He swore to not reset again once they turn everyone back, and now gives mercy to his enemies, even Sans who is now his best friend. Gaster made an artefact to him capable of use the powers of the six humans’ SOULS and materializes their power in a weapon (like the toy knife, the burnt pan and etc… only he doesn’t have to bring the objects in his bag). He also has the golden heart necklace as his armour and it gives him the ability to see the anomalies. Frisk is now more bad-tempered and often finds Sans’s puns… bad-timed *gets shot*

Gaster: 

The former royal scientist who somehow managed to come back to his timeline (even though he’s still “dead”). Gaster is in charge of the search for a cure to the monsters and helps the “Anomaly Catching Team Aka ACT” to gather information of the AU they visit. He doesn’t let them see their friends very often since there’s a possibility of them getting corrupted by the virus. He misses Papyrus. He managed to make a cure to the corruption, but it doesn’t seem to work in the monsters from his timeline, only with monsters from other AUs. He gave it to Sans and Frisk so they could save other AUs.

Flowey: 

He is the main enemy and the most corrupted being. Flowey is still conscious and wants to use his “powers” to destroy the multiverse. He can corrupt codes but it takes time to actually work… giving ACT chance to capture the creatures and restore them. It’s not a very good villain, hehe!

Goopy Beasts: 

Former monsters now corrupted. They were created form the dust of ACT’s timeline and try to kill every non-corrupted thing. The cure (named RESTORE) doesn’t work with them since they’re dead.

AU!Beasts: 

monsters corrupted with the virus. They have the same appearance as before being corrupted; only changing their colours to a grey palette. Once a monster gets infected, they become aggressive and attack everyone. The cure works perfectly on them, but they have to use it quickly before they change into a goopy beast.

 SOME FACTS:

-Sans loves to sit on the exit of the underground and looks to the stars.

-Frisk makes fun of him being taller than Sans.

-Sans’s left eye glows red and blue. His eyesocket often shows some binary codes with “X” or 2 on them.

-They try to not be noticed from their AU versions but fail miserably… then run away.

-Frisk opens his eyes and talks normally on his AU. Outside it, he uses sign language.

-They have the exact outfit but with some changes.

 AND THAT’S ALL!

Hehe… I feel better now I shared this! I didn’t do it for the reasons I told you before (Ya see? Sans’s outfit looks like Quatumtale!Sans even though I didn’t know the AU when I made it) aaaand because I’m not good making comics… like, serious comics. I’m better with fanfics! Anyways, hope you guys liked it. I’ll probably draw them more lkjdksjlk

AND PLEASE KEEP IN MIND THAT I MADE THIS A LONG TIME AGO WITHOUT KNOWING ANYTHING ABOUT AUS. THEY MAY BE SOME THINGS THAT YOU PROABLY SAW ON ANOTHER AU, SINCE SOMEONE MAY HAVE ALREADY DONE A SIMILAR THING. I DON’T KNOW ALL THE AUS. I LITTERALY CAN COUNT WICH AUS I KNOW AND THEY WON’T REACH 16

that’s all

bai

*runs away*

[sirenluna]

After Happily Ever After, a Vampire Diaries FanFic (Post series finally)

Damon and I stuck around Mystic Falls for a year to help Caroline and Rik start the school. To this day I think it was most of Damon's involvement was to make sure his best vintages weren't snuck away by Rik in the moving process. Then it was time to say goodbye. My new Jeep and Damon's revived Camaro were packed with our most important belongings as we bid our nearest and dearest farewell's. The rest of the too large to fit in the car stuff had been sent by moving trucks to a storage place outside New York City.

Caroline was all tears and warnings of course. "But you guys don't even have a place in New York yet! I still say you should stay another few months." I looked at her with a knowing grin as she rolled her eyes and corrected herself, "Or forever…"

"That sounds more like the Caroline I know." I said and hugged my best friend. "Bonnie is off exploring the world and you and Rik are doing an amazing job with this place. It's just time Care."

Care sniffed, "I swear to god Elena, if you don't call me the moment you get there, I will vamp speed all the way to Manhattan to trample your ass!"

I laughed, "Yes Mrs. Salvatore." I said only slightly mocking her new role as the Salvatore School's head mistress.

Damon and Rik came out of the front door of the former boarding house. In Damon's arms was a large manila envelope. The two men chuckled as the approached us.

"What's so funny?" I asked as Damon came to my side sporting his telltale mischievous grin.

"Just man stuff,"

"Uh-ha, what's in the envelope?"

"A signed copy of Madonna's playboy issue, thought it would be best that I not forget it here and send one of these witchy kiddies into early puberty."

Caroline cringed. "Ew! How about you burn it?"

Damon looked at her like she had deeply insulted him. "It's Madonna and a signed issue blondie, have you no respect for art?"

I jumped in to derail the budding drama, "Ok, Madonna can ride with you to New York then she goes in the recycling pile, got it?"

Damon took me in his arms and kissed me, "Don't be jealous babe, the material girl has nothing on you."

"Aw, you always know what to say." I kissed him back and whispered, "But she's still compost."

He sighed defeated "Happy girl, happy world." We turned back to Care and Rik,

"So where are you guys staying?" Rik asked with an unusual eyebrow gesture that looked like a taunting challenge more than a question. Odd.

"I rented us a spot in the city while we look for a permanent place." Damon answered, giving Rik a look that read like silence, I kill you! Odder.

"Um, ok not sure whats going on there but we should get going." I hugged Rick.

"You guys drive safe and let us know when you get there." Rik and Damon bro hugged after I went back to Care.

"We will, Care already threatened me thoroughly." I nodded at my best friend.

Never being one to back down, Care nodded her head in agreement "Mm-hm, and I meant it."

We all laughed and Damon as usual made sure our departure was on a sarcastic note. "Ok, Dumbledore, McGonagall, try not to let Hogwarts explode while we're gone ok?"

Rik looked serious "I make no guarantees." Yet another round of hugs later and Damon and I were on the road. After 5 minutes I began to look back on everything we'd been though in this town. It was where we met, fell in love, broke up, got back together. Where we literally died, and came back in more ways than one. Where we met, and said goodbye to so many people who were so important to us. And even though it was centuries apart, it was where Damon and I were both born, where we grew up. Now we were leaving.

My phone started ringing from the holder on my dashboard. It was Damon. Putting him on Bluetooth, I answered, "Hey,"

"Put it away," he drolld

I smirked "Put what away?"

"The crease in your forehead."

He knew me too well, "It's just hard to think of leaving."

His tone went from playful to sweet, "I know baby, but we're starting our lives together. Human lives. Part of being human is leaving home and making your place in the world."

I smiled "You're right. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you've mastered this whole being human thing."

"Took some getting used to but I think I'll be writing self-help books and blogging by next week."

That made me laugh. "The day you start blogging is the day I go vegan."

"Hey, don't knock the vegans, I think they have a hold on human immortality. I've already scoped out a few food coop's and organic grocery stores."

"Ok, have fun with your algae and tofu, I'll stick with my burgers and fries thank you!"

Damon signed, "Fries are something aren't they? I seriously have a new appreciation for human food since I lost my Vamp status." I could barely contain my laughter. I could practically hear the satisfied smile on Damon's lips, knowing he had successfully distracted me from my previous mood. "Feel better?" he asked,

"Ya, much. Thanks love."

"Any time, when you feel like you need a driving brake just honk ok?"

"Yea, you too."

"I love you Elena," He didn't say it in the typical emotionless way most guys said it to their girlfriends. Damon uttered those three words with his whole heart. Like it was the first or last time he'd ever have the chance to say them.

"I love you too Damon." We hung up and continued the long drive to New York City.

9.5 hours and 4 bathroom/food breaks later we had arrived in Manhattan NY. I followed Damon to a 24hour parking garage in the West Village. We took out the duffel bags we packed with our immediate essentials and hand in hand my boyfriend walked us to a building on the corner of Bowery and Broom Street. There was a busy looking bar on the very corner of the building that looked like a cool place to hang out. Maybe that would be our go-to spot eventually.

I noticed the manila envelope Damon had taken from the boarding house under his arm. "What's Madonna doing here?"

Damon shrugged, "Thought you'd like to be the one to toss her."

I rolled my eyes as we arrived in front of a classic looking building. Damon took the keys out of his pants pocket and unlocked the front door. The lobby was all marble and steel beams. The place liked like the perfect combination of modern and traditional. "Wow, this is something." I said admiring the architecture.

"Mm-Hm, wait till you see the apartment." Damon guided us to the old-fashioned elevator and together we rode it to the 6th floor, the top floor of the building. There were only 3 apartment doors on the floor, Damon guided me to the one at the very end of the hall. He opened the door and switched on a few lights.

"After you Mademoiselle," he bowed as he let me through the open door.

"Oh my-wow!" I said looking up at the vaulted ceilings. If I had ever designed my dream loft it would be this one here. The space was massive with floor to ceiling windows, a huge fire escape, fire place open kitchen and upper level that looked like it was constructed for bedroom space. Damon leaned against one of the exposed brick walls as I looked around.

"Oh, this kind of sucks." I said still in awe.

"Pardone moi?" Damon asked confused.

"Well, this is supposed to be temporary while we find a real place. But after this, every apartment we look at is going to seriously pale in comparison."

He stood off the wall, "Funny you should say that." He opened the manila envelope to my surprise pulled out a stack of white papers and a pen."

"I wasn't going to sign these until you saw the place yourself." He handed the papers to me. There were a purchasing agreement for a condo. Damon had applied and gotten approved to buy the loft we were standing in.

Shocked I stared at the words in front of me. "Da… those are not naked pictures of Madonna."

He smiled, "Caught that, did you? I had everything sent to the boarding house so I could surprise you when we got here. So, do you like it?"

"Like? I love it!" I jumped into Damon's arms and kissed him. "Wait, can we afford this?" As a vampire, Damon had endless resources for money. And while he did have one hell of a nest egg to start us off with we agreed to not go overboard and fix our spending with the intent of building our finances though real careers.

"Well… not originally but blondie may have been excellent at haggling the price down to our level."

"Caroline was in on this?" I asked, "But she was devastated when we left."

Damon mocked shock, "Have you seriously forgotten her time as a drama major?"

I laughed and kissed him, "So, this, is it? This is our home?"

Damon bight his bottom lip in a not exactly way, "Well, first you're gonna have to sign these." He handed me the stack of papers and pen. I rushed to the granite kitchen island and started signing away.

"Oh Elena?"

"Hmm?" I asked, completely focused on signing my name on every dotted line I could find.

"Just one more thing."

I turned to see what else he needed and was once again stunned. Damon was down on one knee with a velvet box in his hand. "Damon?"

"Elena Gilbert, from the moment I met you. I knew there was something extraordinary about you. From that day on, everything about you has amazed, enlightened and confused the hell out of me. I fell in love with you from that very first moment. I know what it is to have you and to lose you and I don't want to spend another second of this new short life without you. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?"

The tears that ran down my face were hot and full of joy. Damon opened the box to reveal a brilliantly cut white diamond in a platinum setting. I could hardly breath as I looked into the sparkle. Still on his knee Damon waited for my answer which was an absolute, unwavering…

"Yes,"

He slipped the ring on my finger and lifted me into his arms. Together we were everything and for the first time in our lives we knew for a fact that nothing could come between us ever again. This was the start of us, after Happily Ever After.

THE STORY CONTINUES ON MY FAN FIC PAGE, https://www.fanfiction.net/~sirenluna