#but her method of staying alive here was nonsensical

[podcastenthusiast]

It's perfect, for a while.

They have a home at Corvo Bianco, far away from politics and ghosts. A garden, too, because Geralt still likes to keep his potion-brewing skills sharp and Yennefer has found she enjoys making her own perfume. They have room for a few horses in the stables—retired racers and warhorses. Roach pretends to dislike their company, but Yennefer can tell it's just an act.

Yennefer finds a quiet life suits her more than she ever expected. They drink excellent wine. Take walks together, in the fields or by the stream, and she listens as Geralt talks at length about various plants and creatures. They hold each other at night. They read in bed. Eat breakfast in bed. They do many things in bed.

Winter, though... winter is hard. At times, Yennefer has to remind herself that this isn't Aedd Gynvael.

Geralt starts sleeping in late. Not the gentle, lazy rhythm of unspooling days they enjoyed together in the seasons before. He stays in bed like he can't bring himself to face the day. Sleeps like he's running from something. Barely speaks. He doesn't eat enough, especially for a witcher—even an idle one; Marlene frets over it constantly.

When he does rise, he works himself beyond exhaustion for no reason she can understand. The winter chill is mild here in Toussaint, and they have staff now, yet still he chops firewood himself until they've run out of room to store it all, as if he's preparing to heat a whole castle—

Oh.

It is about a castle, isn't it. She suspects he misses Kaer Morhen. His family.

"Talk to me," she says one night. One could almost call it pleading were she a different woman.

"Just read my thoughts, if you're so insistent."

"I know that isn't your preferred method of communication, nor mine."

Not to mention she's a little afraid of what she might find in that poor tormented mind of his. Yennefer rakes her fingers through his long hair. Geralt, head resting against her breasts, says nothing at all.

"We're too old for this. We agreed to stop running from things. Talk to me, Geralt."

"I'm tired, Yen." He speaks like each word pains him. "I don't know what's wrong with me. You're happy. Roach is happy."

"Roach is a horse, love. She would be content anywhere as long as there are apples in it for her."

"I love it here with you. Really, I do. It's better than I deserve. Thought I might even be the first witcher ever to die in his bed. Imagine that."

"I'd rather not," she mutters.

"I was—I thought I could be happy. But maybe I don't know how. Maybe I'm not capable of it anymore, only able to feel a brief shadow of contentment. All they left me with is anger and sadness. I'm sorry."

Yennefer cannot bear to hear this. She hates when Geralt talks about himself like a thing, and a broken one at that.

She takes his face in her hands.

"Now you listen to me, Geralt of Rivia. Never apologize for what you feel. Your feelings are as real and important as mine or anyone else's."

"But—"

"Listen, I said! If you're sad, then be sad for as long as you need to. I am not leaving. And neither are you. We're done with all that nonsense. Aren't we?"

"...Yeah."

She pulls him close.

While the witcher sleeps in her arms, Yennefer devises a plan.

--

Jaskier and Zoltan are the easiest to find, of course. The bard doesn't take much convincing at all either. She need only say that Geralt needs him.

Ciri is much the same, immediately willing to help and (ironically) easy to locate; the imprint of magic she leaves in her wake still shines bright as a beacon.

She tracks Lambert down to an inn at the foothills of the Blue Mountains. It's easy enough; he never has been quiet or subtle a day in his life.

"You're here and Geralt isn't," he says, white-knuckled grip on his mug of beer. "So is he...dead, or—"

"He's alive," Yennefer says before the witcher can spiral any further. "He's safe. Unharmed."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you. Heading to Kaer Morhen for the winter?"

"No, I'm fucking not," Lambert snaps. "Wouldn't be any point."

"Yet here you are in Kaedwen."

"Yeah. Old habits. I don't know."

"Come to Toussaint."

"Why the fuck—"

"Because I'm starting a new tradition, one that requires all the remaining witchers of the Wolf school to gather at Corvo Bianco immediately. And because I asked nicely."

"Gonna turn me into a frog if I refuse?"

She smiles dangerously. "We shall see."

Eskel is a little more difficult to find because he isn't slowing down for the winter. In the end, she follows a trail of dead monsters from town to town, inquiring about the witcher who slew them. At least his scar is distinctive.

"Geralt is fine," she says this time instead of a greeting, and the witcher's tense shoulders relax slightly. "Alive and uninjured, anyway. But it would do him good to see his brothers."

"Sentimental old wolf," Eskel says with unrestrained fondness. He pats his horse's neck and does not look at Yennefer. "He asked me to stay. After... after Vesemir's funeral. But I just. I couldn't go back there, y'know? It'd be too quiet."

"It's too quiet," Geralt had whispered one cold night when she was drifting off to sleep beside him.

"Been worried about him," Eskel continues. "Hoping he isn't in the keep, all alone. Or out on the Path taking stupid risks."

"Is that what you're doing?" she asks.

Eskel shrugs. "Didn't know where else to go, I guess."

"He's not alone," she says. "But I think he also needs more than I can give."

"...Are you all right?" Eskel asks, and Yennefer realizes she'd begun to sway somewhat alarmingly.

"Fine. Just tired. I've simply...expended too much magical energy in a short time. Portals, and such."

"You're really doing a lot for him."

"Surprised?"

"Well...no." Eskel apparently is the only tactful witcher the Wolves have, but he's a shit liar.

"Perhaps I find his moping dreadfully irritating. Let that suffice if it pleases you all to think of me as a selfish witch who ensnared your brother."

"What's the truth, though?"

"I love him," Yennefer says. "And he would walk through a hundred portals for me, I'm certain. This is the least I can do."

--

Upon seeing Yennefer, Jaskier, Zoltan, Ciri, Lambert, Eskel, and Regis—the vampire having appeared out of thin air—all gathered together at Corvo Bianco, Geralt's immediate response is: "Damn. Am I dying?"

"Of course not," Ciri says, embracing him.

"It's about your Gwent addiction," Jaskier quips.

"I can stop whenever I want."

"You sound like Lambert when Vesemir locked the wine cellar," Eskel says.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"You started mixing up White Gull with random herbs and any half-empty bottles you could find."

"A lesson in creativity," Lambert says.

"Seriously, what are you all doing here?" Geralt asks.

"It was my doing. I invited them."

"Why? Is it Ciri? Is--"

"There's no danger. Everyone is all right," Yennefer assures him. "It's winter. Time for rest. And to be with your family."

They all stay until the pull of their own lives becomes too great to resist. For a while, their home is filled with life and laughter and music.

"Thanks, Yen," Geralt murmurs into her hair later that evening.

It doesn't fix everything. There are still those who should be here but cannot be, whether due to death or simply life's demands. There are still days when the icy tendrils of grief and pain seize Geralt's heart, and even the warmth of everyone who loves him isn't enough to break its hold.

But Yennefer knows it helped when she sees Geralt smile more. She can almost feel the ice in him beginning to melt.

[captain-astors]

17, 20, 42 & 49 from the ship ask with Seidou x Akira??🙂

Ooh haven't seen seiaki around for a little. Presuming this is all post-ghoulification?

the ask game

17. How well do they communicate? Are they open with their feelings/thoughts or more reserved? Why?

More reserved, by nature and by extensive trauma respectively. Also if Seidou stayed quiet about his feelings for god knows how long so it's not like this is entirely new. But if anyone can pry this guy open like a clam, (lovingly) it's Akira, and she'll open up pretty quickly verbally about anything she doesn't like, and more positive stuff Seidou's actually alright at sniffing out, and that assurance that if he does something "wrong" he'll be told gently actually brings him a lot of reassurance. He's already aware of the consequences so even if he worries about messing up, he's not worried that she'll be angry at him.

20. How do they comfort each other when one of them is upset? Is this method of comfort effective?

Akira's rather blunt about it, but not in a rude way. "No I don't hate you, your brain is being stupid. Hug me if you want or keep your personal space but I'm here for you." And it's a pretty good matchup for Seidou's feral cat of a mind. Sometimes it freaks him out but for the most part that lack of vagueness and straight "yes I do care about you, stop that" doesn't leave his mind much space to fill in the gaps with fears. For Seidou, he's more wordless about it, just sort of hugging her in a little "I hope you feel better soon and I'm sorry." This is a huge testament to his trust and Akira is conscious of that, so often the significance alone is enough to be effective. But just like how occasionally her bluntness frightens Seidou, his touch and lack thereof sometimes makes it worse but she does her best to be understanding.

42. What’s their relationship like with each other’s friends/families?

Surprisingly pretty good when it comes to their closer friends. Seina teased Seidou a lot the first time she met Akira, but is genuinely super supportive of this. She's so happy to see that her brother is alive, happy, and finally absolving that rivalry that consumed him for years. As for Akira well- Rest in Peace Kureo. Obviously a lot of the CCG is still a little apprehensive about ghouls, especially one who's brutally slaughtered so many of their ranks and realistically could do the same but as much as their fear the Owl they tend to fear Akira a little more for long enough to warm up to him. He's kind of skittish and keeps to himself anyways, kind of funny for someone who's probably killed a friend of yours. Amon is a little confused but supportive.

49. Do they keep secrets from each other?

Absolutely. They do their best to create environments where they both feel comfortable sharing, but they still both have an inclination to keep it quiet until they remind each other that it's alright. There are some things they'll never revisit, not because they don't trust each other but because those events are just too traumatic and recent. And that's alright for now, one day maybe, but currently they're both still within a couple years of some wild nonsense and those boundaries are mutually respected.

[sansxfuckyou]

be right by your side (no matter what)

Summary: if there's one thing Dee knew from the second her little brother was born, it's that she'd be by his side until one of them died no matter what that meant

Warnings: minor gore, wounds, general anguish and tragedy, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I binged Scoob and Shag in one sitting and went through the five stages of grief and the entire spectrum of human emotion, please go read it or read this fic without reading it, your choice. @sobredunia I can tag you in this nonsense now that you've read majority of Scoob and Shag. there are no spoilers past page 116, hope ya'll enjoy and consider checkin the Ao3 port if you do to leave a comment or kudos

"Don't touch my sister," He snarls the words with this specific resonance that Dee knows all too well considering how very long she's lived with him. The gentle hand on her shoulder raises, the blood of her wound rests on Pop's hand.

"He's just trying to help us out, Dex," Dee said quietly, her little brother was still defiant on the matter. She gave this gentle smile, one she hoped would ease his tension like it usually does.

He's still seething, his sister got hurt, his beloved sister. The person he turned into the angriest kid alive for, the sister he took all of his parents expectations for, the sister he tried to protect and failed to do so. He was sure he could keep her safe, sure he could keep her just fine on the supply raid because she was so desperate to join him.

To prove she wasn't just the nuisance he always said she was.

"I'm aware of that," He spat back, "How do we know we can trust them? Trust they don't have a Ballyhoo that'll hide Antihoo monsters? They could hurt us, Dee."

"We won't hurt you," Pop said, "We're in Med Bay 03, Mick and his cohorts are out there and can't hurt us-"

"I remember, Mick, Bugs, Ger, and Scoob," Dex spat bitterly, "I'm curious as to what makes you so sure me and my sister aren't a part of Mick's team?"

"A hunch," was Pop's answer to the question, "We saw you and your sister about to be torn to shreds by an Antihoo monster and saved you, of course, we couldn't patch all of your wounds while you two were passed out.

Dee's fingers raise to the small wound on her brothers arm, partially dried blood spilling down his lab coat. He hissed and pulled away from her, "Bring me to your lab and I'll start devising better and more efficient healing methods than bandaids and polysporin."

-/-/-/-

"You need to stay where it's safe, Dee," Dex would consistently chide despite his sister's insistence on joining them on the battlefield. Her Ballyhoo was never combative, it was an assist at best. Closed Caption, it let her read the thoughts of everyone around if she needed.

Dee clenched her fists a bit tighter, pigtails comically drooping, "But, Dexter, I could help-"

"Don't be an idiot, Dee Dee!" The aggressiveness to his tone is unintentional, but it makes Dee back down unlike when they were kids. Before they were part of the forces on planet Toone, before things got really bad, "Your Ballyhoo can give us nothing on the battlefield, it can barely give us anything off the battlefield either. You need to stay here to stay safe, monitor the injured, watch the doors, make sure that no is trying to double cross us."

And Dee wants so fucking badly to defy him, to push back, but ever since day one her brother has been the intellectual of the two. She nods, submitting to what she knows to be the truth, proven time and time again by the insanity upon the crashed spaceship. She takes a seat on a spinning chair, "Alright, Dex, please be careful out there. You're our best medic in spite of your Ballyhoo, did you ever realize how destructive it is?"

"My Ballyhoo? Pah! It's naught but my machines, my gadgets, little bombs I place my power in, ticking time bombs to save us all or kill us all," Dex answered without putting any thought behind it, "Mick used his Ballyhoo for evil, he still is, and I'll use mine to fight the good fight." His hand come to rest upon a set of wrenches, flat head and perfectly fitting within his hand. He grabs a set of his small bombs, his little trinkets used to properly and safely activate his Ballyhoo, he'll need them if they come across A Commander.

Dee just nods solemnly, highly aware of the fact that her brother isn't a fan of his Ballyhoo being a weaker version of Mick's. It's detrimental to his sense of being, his sense of identity, that he can be on the good guys team despite the fact his Ballyhoo is just a terrible reminder of what they're facing. That's why he throws himself into medical fields and machinery for defenses, the only way to detach himself from using his power to be a help, "I'll go patch up Felix and Yogi," She snags some of his special edition gauze tape, medication infused within it for good measure.

"Thank you for understanding, Dee," Dex said quietly, raising a gloved hand to readjust his goggles, the other hand stuffing weaponry into his lab coat pockets, "I'll be back, and better yet with some of those chips you keep nagging me about recreating."

"Thanks bro," There's this hoping sweetness on her voice, an innocence despite the fact that everything is falling apart around them.

-/-/-/-

Eyes sting with tears as she watches her brother be wheeled off on life support after the bout with Foghorn Leghorn, the bout that put one of them permanently out of business and the other near fatally wounded. She managed to deface the asshole that hurt her little brother, that nearly killed her little brother, but there was still the problem of the fact she didn't move fast enough. This could be it.

"Like, he'll be fine," Shag tried to console, good hand resting on Dee's shoulder. He sat beside her on the floor of their getaway, their emergency escape whether they failed or succeeded. And they succeeded but at a cost that Dee absolutely hated, an expense that made her feel ill.

She takes staggering breaths, gloved hand raising to run through blonde hair matting with blood. It hurts. Every little thing hurts, talking, breathing, touching her hair, her face hurts so much with how badly Foghorn messed it up. She slumps a little bit further down, "It should've been me."

Shag doesn't answer to fill the radio silence.

"I'm the big sister, and yeah I saved him, but," She stares at the body of her little brother. He's barely breathing. His heart rate is weak. Her breath hitches as she draws a hand to her now bright pink eyes to stifle the tears, "I didn't really save him."

"We'll fix him up, Dee," It's a promise that Shag can't keep, but he makes it anyways.

Dee nods and leans against Shag, "Okay."

[willxtoxsurvive]

𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 𝙵𝙾𝚁 𝙴𝚇𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙾𝚄𝙱𝚃

@hauntedreality said -> if you're so smart, why don't you figure it out? / krauser @ four eyes

Time and time again, Four Eyes had made a point of insisting that she could be of far better use for Umbrella working in their facilities and not out here, in the field. Not because she was incapable, but because the environment of a laboratory was far more fitting for a virologist than this. But alas, her advancements and data gathering techniques had scared the wrong head of the research team, and even if Birkin had long since died and Racoon City was little more than a cautionary tale, the higher ups continued to put obstacles in her path.

That's how she ended up HERE, having to deal with the elements and this nonsense.

Most importantly, that's how she ended up snowbound in some remote cabin with Jack Krauser, watching him try to light damp wood so they wouldn't freeze to death.

Her brown eyes narrowed at him when he spoke. But decided to do exactly that.

Walking over, she made him move out of the way and crouched by the unlit fireplace. The wood in question was the usual for a fireplace: small logs and twigs, so compression-rolling might be an option for the twigs, but not for the logs; and the logs were damp, but not so much to feel soft to the touch, so pressure expulsion wouldn't achieve anything, either. That left one option...

Four eyes untied her boots, took them off, then loosened the laces until she was able to pull them free. Two logs should be enough for a good start to get them one step closer to not dying from hypothermia. So she grabbed two and tied one end of each shoelace around the log, having no care for the fact that what she was about to do would probably make her look crazy, or dumb. That was a minimal consequence when the goal was to stay alive and, since centrifugal force was their best option —and a method which was proven to be a successful wood-drying method—, she didn't hesitate to swing the logs one at a time, as hard as she could, without a care for the water that, inevitably, went in all directions.

Once that part was done, her chest was heaving, but she retrieved her shoelaces and placed the logs in the fireplace, turning her gaze towards Krauser.

"Now, it should be easier. Light it up," she said. "Unless you also need my assistance for that."

[porlovistoeinmasochist]

I have been having fun all in all with the series, it has given me more of Anakin/Vader which is really all I want of Star Wars. And this episode was amazing in that regard, it gave us more of the fact that Anakin is Vader, Vader is Anakin. How the flashback cuts to Vader, its Vader remembering Anakin waiting for Obi Wan to do a training duel, those are Vaders memories. The guy ruminating about all of Anakins memories, as Vader. I loved that!

Also they are giving us true Eldritch Abomination Anakin, Vader, just bringing down the ship and ripping it apart. Yes! That is the cosmic horror, the nightmare of the galaxy, an actual offspring of the force. I was sooooooo afraid, because before watching I saw some spoilers, and my One (1) fear is a watered down Vader, the fun of this guy is that he is the worst with god like powers, just rampaging and doing evil with forces nobody comprehends, while staying enslaved, to the guy who is evil incarnate, through the power of apathy, guilt and self loathing. So I was cheering him on! Look at my rampaging guy go! Allow him to go batshit crazy!

And the duel, him just playing with his food! No effort on his part, just perfection! But here is where my griping starts: whyyyyyy didn’t he kill Reva?….besides her having now plot armor….just snap her neck, cut off her head, anything, he is normally so efficient in disposing of people. The falshy burning and then letting escape stick is reserved for his special obsession of obi wan. But if this would have been XY employee of him he would have killed her. I know he is trapped inside a mobile torture device and is just apathy in person, full of rage, pain, guilt and self loathing, but if he excels at ONE thing it’s freaking MURDER. So letting her live makes so no sense….

And not only him, but the Grand Inquisitor, who is alive, because why not, will it be explained how he survived a lightsaber through his thorax? He also just taunts….and lets her alive…and its just the absurd trope of ‘evil guys are dumb’ that just….meh.

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

nEW SESSION (summary here!), where there’s been an unexpected development to the music issue and its time to [checks my notes] taLK TO THE PROPHET AND BREAK INTO SUSIE’S APARTMENT??? Also, the Prophet and Joey have made.... a truce(???), Prophet is concerned Sammy isn’t going to stay on task now that music is returning and has left him a sort of alarming note, and Jack is uh, trying to hold, too many things, maybe some things he shouldn’t be holding, Jack please put those things back,

anyway heres a stack of out-of-context quotes from our session under the readmore:

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] My favourite thing is, there are so many reasons that Henry could've avoided things that I have no idea WHY Henry isn't affected. [Jack] Like, is he not affected because his art isn't a performance? Is he not affected because he warded his house? Is he not affected because he'S FILLED WITH GLOWING BLOOD?!?

[Jack] He got as far as feeding his cat, and I feel like feeding cat isn't a performance-- [Sammy] Not usually, not unless you sing a song to your cat, which-- [Jack] Awww! [Sammy] -- which, now that I've said that, sounds like something Jack would do actually,

[Sammy] Ohhhh, that's right, Joey just heard some people play some bad notes and start panicking, and then he stood up and passed out, [Jack] Which is probably how Sammy feels every time he hears people mess up music!

[GM] He finds news on the radio, but they’re not talking about that right now. [Joey] What are they talking about? [GM] Something mundane; business or sports or something. [Jack] The, the sportsball team, got a…..uh….. a, a point. Congratulations, sportsball,

[Joey] If the sportscasters sound normal, then Joey is instantly VERY ANGRY.

[Henry] Henry’s not very musically inclined, but he knows some songs, [Sammy] Like, can you hum Twinkle Twinkle Little Star -- [Jack] “Anyway, here’s Wonderwall.”

[Jack] Jack has made a vague list of the kinds of people who seem to be affected. [Jack] There’s also “NOT HENRY?????” with a bunch of question marks in this list.

[GM] He’s told that Peter is out of town for a week. [Jack] Hmm. [Sammy] PETER WHERE ARE YOU GOING? [Jack] Hmmmmmm. [Sammy] Jack, is Peter coming here, to check on you, [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMMMMM,

[Sammy] *exasperated* NPCs Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Challenge [Henry] Stop Getting Involved In The Occult Or Draw 25

[Joey] Peter had never seen a Bendy cartoon, and this needed to be fixed. [Joey] The premier is this weekend, and he sent tickets to Pete to correct this, error, in his ways. [Jack] ...I think it is very slowly dawning on Jack, that this means that Pete has been pulled directly into yet another… supernatural nonsense... [Sammy] WE DIDNT DO THIS ONE!!

[Sammy] I CAN’T BELIEVE PHONES ARE THE ANTAGONIST OF THIS ADVENTURE

[Henry] Oh wait--! oh, no, nevermind, I forgot he and Allison probably aren’t together yet. [Sammy] Yeah, I think they just met; they had a meet-cute where they found out they both like Frankenstein and that’s it. [Jack] They actually got married today, since nothing else was happening at the Studio, [Sammy] That’s why Allison hasn’t shown up, she was busy getting married!

[GM] Bendy might’ve been keeping tabs on Henry, but it depends I guess on how distressed Joey is seeming. [Joey] Joey is probably just going to bury his sorrow in studying magic. [GM] Okay! That’s fine and normal Joey behaviour!

[Sammy] Sammy will note that nothing got done in the music department, because he has good priorities.

[Jack] I like the idea that it’s just like, when the teacher isn’t in, and nobody does the work the substitute teacher gave you, [Jack] Everyone’s just playing pokemon in the back, [GM] I thought you were going to say “poker,” but I like the way you ended the sentence better.

[Jack] HMMMMMM. I wonder if we know, any suspicious women, who were around on that specific day, who are known to have, skill and interest in magical things,  [Joey] And also were aware of the cutouts, [Sammy] *cheerfully* Yeah, weird! Anyway!!!!

[Jack] Sammy was acting weird about Allison. Far too agreeable for a Sammy!

[Sammy] *talking about Prophet* If you want to lock him in somewhere, or restrain him, I’ll cooperate. [Jack] Just handcuff him to Jack! [Sammy] SAMMY IS UNEASY WITH THAT PLAN, [Jack] *laughing* What could go wrong! It’s not like Jack is significantly less strong or anything!!

[Jack] Not everyone makes up their entire self, Joey!!! (Affectionate)!!

[Sammy] I give my word, my sheep! [Henry] How good is your word? [Sammy] I mean. It’s pretty good.

[Henry] Henry’s trying to decide if it would be rude to doodle during this very serious conversation. [Jack] I mean, Jack is taking notes, so I feel like-- [Joey] --you can get away with fake note-ing. [GM] No one will know! [GM] Well, Bendy will know, because he’s up high. [GM] Ceiling Bendy

[Sammy] He’s not gonna give you a grade afterwards, like, this isn’t a lecture, [Jack] Time for Prophet Pop Quiz!

[GM] What’s Prophet writing? [Sammy] Um, I gotta think about this... [Jack] “Dear Frightened Shepherd, that Allison person sure is nice, isn’t she?” [GM] “What’s up with everyone ragging on her?” [Joey] “I think I have finally found a way to bridge the gap between us!” [Jack] “I think you need to replace your sheep, they seem kind of suspicious for no reason,” [Jack] “To Do List: Get Better Sheep”

[Sammy] Does this feel like something that’s trying to take his focus, like, very compelling creative ideas? [GM] Yes. [Sammy] ...Prophet will write “don’t get distracted” five more times.

[GM] His mind is abuzz with thoughts of dancing and actoring, [GM] Ideas to be the best Joey ever! [Jack] Oh no.

[Joey] He will wave at the cutout and make a “come here” motion. [Joey] Though also, he’s looking at the cutout like, I’m not quite sure how this works, but I’m going to trust you that it works! So I’m going to do this and see if Bendy shows up! [Jack] Like someone trying to learn how to do phone video calls for the first time, [Joey] YES. Joey’s actually like really close to the cutout, and the motions -- you can make them out, but it’s really awkward,

[Sammy] They’re in no danger. I will take care of the Shepherd’s sheep. [Jack] ...JACK’S BEEN DOWNGRADED!! He’s no longer PROPHET’S sheep!

[Joey] I like how everything Prophet says really just feels like, Knife Cat face.

[GM] You could probably make a Mythos roll to figure it out. [Joey] *rolls* Oh! Extreme success! [GM] Joey’s back!

[GM] Bendy will lead Joey back to the room, where hopefully there are three alive, non-fighting boys!

[Jack] Part of me was like, “What if Jack DOES turn into a cat…?! It’d be pretty hard to write things!” [GM] *laughs* We’ll keep that in our back pocket, in case Jack ever fails a Mythos check. [Jack] Meowthos check…

[Henry] I’m going to have Henry look, look with his Special Eyes.

[Sammy] *failing a roll* Prophet is just, NOT on the ball today, in any way shape or form. [GM] Really hard not to think about music. : ) [Sammy] Ohhhhhh boy, [Jack] Prophet just writes a note to Sammy that says “HOW do you LIVE like this???”

[Henry] Henry’s gonna try to scribble what he remembers of the symbol!  [Sammy] Didn’t we learn, from the last scenario, about reproducing weird symbols, [Henry] No.

[Joey] Did Joey get burnt? [GM] Make a dexterity roll! : ) [Henry] *mumbling* Y’all this entire building is made of wood. *Joey fails* [GM] 1 point of damage, you singe your hand -- on the plus side, you kind of were holding it as it burned up, so it doesn’t fall on the wooden floor. [Sammy] OH GOOD, we’re not LOCKED IN A CLOSET that’s about to burn down? GREAT!

[Joey] We could head over to the infirmary -- [Jack] Jack is already pulling the burn ointment out of his bag. [Jack] He’s prepared this time! [Jack] He’s been practicing, he knows what you’re all like,

[Joey] Joey will give him a smile that’s most recognisable as the “I know you will do good!” smile. [Sammy] Prophet will also smile! It is not a friendly smile. [Jack] It’s a “smile” in quotation marks, but it’s like, baring your teeth as an act of aggression. 

[Jack] Jack lets him go to do the call, but just before he picks up the phone, he says, “Don’t call him Petey.”

[GM] The phone rings, and is not answered. [Joey] Okay! Joey hangs up, says Peter checked into his room, but is not answering. Most likely asleep. [Jack] Half of my brain is going, “what if he’s just stood outside Jack’s house?” The other half of my brain is concerned about manias. I hope he’s not decided that now is a really great time to do more writing, and now he can’t stop, and this could go wrong-- [Jack] This is what Jack’s mind is doing, thinking of all the terrible possibilities. [Joey] While humming. [Jack] ...yes. He’s writing some very troubling lyrics.

[Sammy] *talking about Jack’s compulsive humming* Like Cornifer, [Jack] *starts humming Cornifer’s theme* Dangit, now it’s in my head, why would you do this to me? [Sammy] It’s in character! [Sammy] Method acting. : )

[Joey] Joey’s going to grab supplies to make sure Bendy can… hang around with them! [Joey] Sleepover supplies! Let’s grab your sleepover bag! :D

[Sammy] I don’t know why the idea of a wild Bendy running around across the rooftops is so cute to me… [GM] Probably on all fours, [Jack] Scampering,

[Jack] It’s a good thing Henry’s around because I don’t think Jack can… carry??? An entire Sammy??? [Jack] Like he’s good at holding but he’s not strong at holding.

[Joey] We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours… [Joey] WAIT. We’ve all been acting terrible for the last 24 hours!!!

[GM] Bendy hides under a blanket or something. [Jack] Comfey… [GM] Cozy boy, [Joey] Bendyrito. [Sammy] BENDYRITO,…….. [GM] Rolled up… snug...

[GM] Is everybody coming into the apartment, or just the two? [Jack] Hmmm….. Jack isn’t fond of either of these options. Going in is suspicious and weird; staying outside makes it look even more like they’re breaking in, to steal things, as opposed to, y’know, breaking in, for,,, “good” reasons(???) [Sammy] We’re not breaking in, we’re just walking into this apartment! What’s so weird about that?! [Jack] That’s breaking in. That’s what breaking in is, Sammy. [Sammy] They don’t have to know that we don’t belong here, maybe Susie gave us a key! [Jack] ...they heard us knocking. [Sammy] [Sammy] We’re BEING POLITE!! SHUT UP!!

[Henry] Jack, did you pick up kleptomania.. [Joey] I thought Jack picked up Being Prepared! [Jack] H-he’s just hoarding a little bit!! It’s fine!!! It’s very, useful, see, already Joey got injured!! It was useful to bring lots of things with him okay!!!!!!!!!

[GM] They do not have the police called on them, so that’s nice. [Sammy] Oh good! [Jack] Thank GOODNESS. [Henry] Love when that happens! [GM] If you guys got arrested, the Lurker’s just out in the car all night, [Henry] oh NO, [Jack] Worse punishment than jail… [Joey] Lurker learns how to drive for fun. [GM] *laughs* Gets curious, [Joey] “I said I wouldn’t leave the car, but--”

[Joey] WAIT. There’s a very important factor that we just decided but didn’t say. [GM] Oh? [Joey] If we have Henry heading home, and everyone else sleep over at Jack’s…. [Joey] ...the Lurker finally gets to meet a cat. *everyone gasps* [Jack] Oh that’s SO important

[Henry] And Henry will probably look at these, while in the car, to make sure they don’t have any gold writing on them-- [Sammy] Isn’t Henry driving??? [Henry] ……Henry is not going to look at them in the car,

[Sammy] We’re all going to bed, Sammy, you don’t need a banjo to sleep! [Joey] You might sleep worse if you have a banjo, actually. You might not stop.

[Sammy] Jack you wanna join us? We’re gonna just jam all night! [Jack] It really is Jammy… [Sammy] *laughs* TRUE Jammy!! Real Jammy Hours… [GM] That makes it a pyJAMa party… a real jammy jam…

[hello-nichya-here]

Ok, so what in your opinion is the WORST mistake that the showrunners for Game of Thrones made in terms of content, either it's addition or redaction?

WARNING: Looooooong post ahead

Themes are for eighth-grade book reports

This absurd quote by one of the showrunners explains why exactly the show fell appart. They wanted to make a story... without themes. Anyone with a minimally functioning brain will tell that this is impossible because every story, even the simplest and least complicated story there ever, has a theme. Even a nihilistic story has a theme "Nothing matters". Every. Story. Has. A. Theme.

But Game Of Thrones didn't, at least not after the writers ran out of books to adapt and did their own thing. Everything every character did was no longer to build a narrative, but to essentially act as click-bait. The focus was to make people keep watching, not on making any content that was worth watching.

The first four seasons had it's problems, just like the books had it's problems, but Martin's writting was so brilliant that it managed to stay good even while being handled by absolute clowns. The moment season four ended was the moment the show stopped being an adaptation and became it's own thing - and like I explained before, said thing wasn't a story.

Shock

Both the show and the books had MANY shocking, heart-breaking and downright horrifying scenes: Daenerys being raped by Drogo; Bran being pushed out the window after accidentally seeing the queen fucking her brother; the whole deal with Craster and his daughters; the Dotrakhi destroying Mirri's village and her revenge against them and Daenerys; Ned's death; Melisandre giving birth to a shadow baby that killed Renly; The Red Wedding; Jeoffrey's death; Tyrion killing his father; Theon being tortured by Ramsay...

The difference is there were REASONS behind the shocking scenes Martin created. Even when you look at things like rape and torture scenes and threats of rape/torture - Martin used those scenes to remind us that the world he created is an EXTREMELY dangerous and downright vile place, and that the characters are never truly safe, and that there are WAY worse things than just being killed.

Dumb & Dumber on the other hand, gaves us scenes like an evil, former man of the night's watch evily making an evil speech to his fellow evil men, evily drinking whine from a human skull while nameless women were being raped in the background - but little does he know that Jon Snow, the hero, is about to wreck his shit. It takes something that could realistically happen (and that did happen in the books) and takes it up to eleven because the writers think shock is the same as quality and that the audience is SO STUPID that they need to practically make the actor jump out of the TV, grab us by the shoulders and scream "I'M EVIL! I'M THE BIG BAD! ROOT FOR THE HERO TO KILL ME!"

Pretty much every bad guy became a parody of Jeoffrey, ironically enough because the writers took Jeoffrey too seriously. He was a cruel, sadistic character, who had WAY too much power - but he was also a spoiled baby whose reply to Tyrion bitch-slapping him wasn't a threat, but "I'M TELLING MOM!" Jeoffrey worked because he was only allowed to do his thing whenever smarter, more competent characters like Tyrion and Tywin where not around, meaning his actions, while inhumane, never reached the point of no longer being believable.

The horrible things that happened to the characters no longer felt "right". For instance, Sansa had just been taken to the Eerie by Little Finger, who has a weird complex in which he sees her both as the daughter he never had with Catelyn AND as a replacement for Catelyn, and she was starting to truly be a player instead of a pawn... and then the writers realized "Oh shit, we should have not cut the Jeyne Pool/Fake Arya' plot, that was important" and forced it on Sansa, making Little Finger hand her on a silver plater to Ramsay and turning her into a victim AGAIN, this time to a man that dramatically fights his enemies without a shirt own, practically saying "come at me bro"

Compare this to Ned's beheading, or Catelyn and Rob being betrayed and killed by the Freys. These moments were shocking and downright depressing - but they were earned. The writting was on the wall for anyone to see: Ned was at the mercy of Jeoffrey, and the Starks had given the Freys, who are notoriously disloyal, a reason to resent them. These twists felt completely natural, were the only logical way for the situation the characters were in to play out, AND they had consequences to plot instead of just making the audience gasp and then being forgotten about.

Plot armor

It's kind of ironic and almost tragic that the show that became famous for killing characters later became the worst type of high-stakes series, putting the characters in situations they could NOT survive, not even if a goddamn miracle happened, and having them live anyway. What's even worse is that it happened repeatedly. If I had to see Jon Snow almost die and then survive anyway one more fucking time I was going to lose my mind.

There's no bigger proof that there were just no consequences for the "main" characters anymore than watching the second, third, and fourth episodes of season either. The first sets up that this battle against the night king and his army of undead is likely going to kill the majority of them, if they're lucky... and then in the third we see the plot armor in all of it's "glory", and then in the forth we find out that the Dotrakhi, who had ALL been killed, actually still have half the numbers they had the night before, somehow. Even red-shirts weren't dying anymore.

DORNE

This disaster needed it's own session because HOLY SHIT, it's a miracle/tragedy that everyone didn't go "Fuck it, I'm never watching another episode of this stupid show."

The Dorne plot in the books isn't perfect, but what the show did to it was so fucking bad that I'm pretty sure the writers didn't even read the Dorne chapters in the books, they just looked at a wiki, wrote down the names of a few characters and then did their own shitty thing.

In the books, Doran Martel is a clever, dangerous man, who pretends to be harmless so people will understimate him and step right into his trap. In the show, Doran Martel... died. That's it. I can't remember anything else that happened to him. Add him to the list of "Brilliant characters that became stupid due to shitty writing", I'm sure Tyrion, Varys and Little Finger will love making him company.

The sand-snakes, one of the main driving force of that plot, were all distinct characters in the books, with their personalities, goals, methods and motivations - basically they were created by a writer who knew what he is was doing. In the show they were all the same "character" who could be perfectly described by that horrible, cringy, PAINFUL line one of them (I can't even remember which) said to Bron "You want a good girl, but you need the bad pussy" (Seriously, if that actress ever kills the show-runners as revenge for having to say that, she'll be 100% justifyed in doing so)

And we cannot forget the driving force behind that unwatchable shit show: Ellaria Sand. In the books, the death of Oberyn made her believe that revenge only leads to more blood-shed. In the show, his death enraged to the point of wanting to avenge him and his family, and she did this... by killing his family. If that doesn't explain how insane and stupid this plot-line was, I don't know what will.

Hype = Character assassination

Many shows are based around the conflict between the bad guys and the good guys. Game Of Thrones is not one of these shows. Or at least it wasn't. As they ran out of ideas, the writers started mutilating every single character until they could be label as "Good" or "Bad", regardless of what felt right to the story and to the point that there was nothing left of said characters. Stannis's actor, Stephen Dillane, straight up said that the only thing he got from being on the show was money and that his character's motivations and decisions were nonsense - ironically enough, that kind of brutal honesty means that the writers had THE perfect actor play Stannis, and wasted his fucking time.

Here's a list of the characters that fell victims to this horrible fate: Catelyn Stark, Tyrion Lannister, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Jon Snow, Melisandre, Stannis, Jorah, Daenerys (bonus points for being mutilated into being both a generic, shitty "hero" and a generic, shitty "villain") Greyworm, Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark...

Pretty much the only character who became more complex in the show than she was in the books was Cersei. While her book self was never just a "Generic Evil Queen", the show version of her was far more sympathetic, which made the stories she was part of interesting. Too bad the writers ran out of ideas of what to do with her after season six and just left her by the window drinking whine until Dany showed up to kill her. Which brings us to...

Why is this happening?

Cersei was seen as a threat in the last two seasons based on nothing but the things she HAD done. Her story just ended the very second season six did, but since she was still alive despite being one of the bad guys she had to die... I guess. She (and by extention Jaime) joined the list of characters that had nothing to do, but were still around: Davos, Theon, Yara, Melisandre, Bron, Sam, Gendry, Bran (the last one being SO unnecessary that he was cut from season five and no one noticed)

To combat that issue, the writers gave characters "motivations" that made no sense. For exemple: Sandor Clegane. His only reason to be in the show was so he could kill his brother. The problem was that Gregor was already dead. He was a walking corpse. There was nothing left of the abusive brother Sandor once knew, meaning he had no reason to fight him, and that, to keep Sandor around, the writers should have come up something new (like the redemption that book fans have been waiting for, and that has a lot of backing evidence). You might as well have had HIM be the one to randomly fly out of nowhere and kill the night king despite having no connection to him.

And since we're talking about the night king... Arya was the one to kill him. Why? Because the writers ruined Jaime's redemption arc, meaning that the only fitting ending for him was to die with Cersei, and so Arya could not kill Cersei despite wanting to, having the ability to do, AND having heard a prophecy that said she'd "Shutting brown eyes, blue eyes, and green eyes forever", the last one being the only one she had not done AND applying to Cersei. But Dumb & Dumber admitted they had no plan for this, so now that they were at the last season, they needed to do something with it, and they retconned it to mean Arya would kill the night king...

But Arya killing him meant Jon had nothing to do, so Dany had to go mad so he could kill her. To "hint" at that, they ignored all the not at all subtle foreshadowing the previous season had of Dany and Jon having a kid, and they even showed her getting jealous that he was technically the true heir... even though that made no sense since they were going to rule together anyway, and even after Dany went full "Mad Queen" she ASKED HIM TO RULE WITH HER. But anyways, he kills her and becomes king...

Except he doesn't actually become king and him being a secret Targaryen has no effect in the plot, because Bran needed to become king so there'd be a reason for him to be alive, because his magical powers turned into a plot-device. A plot-device that wasn't used at any goddamn point. Seriously, the only thing as bad as Bran becoming king was Euron's existence - dude was THE most useless villain ever AND the worst Jeoffrey parody.

A darker story (literally)

I could not end this rant without bitching about this. What is the point of spending an ungodly amount of money on sets, costumes, make-up, special effects... and then using such poor lighting that no one can see what the fucking is going on?

Anyway, this disaster of a series was so absurd it should be used as an exemple of what NOT to do.

[florvinhara]

so if you're gonna sink or swim, just drown

just a little smth i was pondering based on the asks abt the mythosi blood infusion~

tw for body horror, mild gore, and insect content under the cut!!

For a heartbeat- two, three- nothing happens. Mother's brow starts to wrinkle, Therisse lets out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and then all at once-

burning

“The initial transformation could take anywhere from two days to a week.” (Mother says it will be fine.)

breaking

“There will be pain.” (She says: "You can bear it, Therisse.")

tearing

"The process will take a toll on your body, your mind." ("This is something you have to do for all of us.")

Pain? Bullshit- she knows pain, has lived with it and trained through it- this is an agony too big for her body, something else something that is Not Her clawing at her mind ripping her apart-

She can't breathe-

A younger Esmeralda laughing, teasing her. "You know that figs have wasps in them, right?"

"Nuh-UH!" Therisse cries, but drops the fruit quickly and watches it roll across the floor.

"Uh-huuh," Esmeralda sticks her tongue out, wiggles her fingers menacingly. "Why do you think they're crunchy inside? It's all the wasps!"

"MOM!"

(Esmeralda was partially right, Therisse learned later, after her sister had come to console her- not about that 'crunchy inside' nonsense, but about the wasps that burrow into figs to lay their eggs, where they hatch and blindly crawl their way to freedom, or else die there in the darkness.)

She's like that now- something is living inside her, something alive scraping and biting at her, consuming her with a single-minded hunger something that needs to be out now please get it out-

But nobody can, will ever be able to, it's in her blood now, the blood (hers? Not hers? Not her body anymore, that’s for sure but if not then whose whose WHOSE) soaking her torn hands- not her hands at all, actually, but something half-human and half-animal, sharp and bent at unnatural angles.

She opens her mouth, to scream, call for help, beg for it to stop, something, but chokes on the blood more blood more fucking bloodfilling her mouth as razor-like teeth she never had before cut into her tongue, cheek, gums, catch on her lips before breaking the skin there too.

There’s a wild, howling cry splitting her eardrums and rattling her skull; she can’t tell if it’s coming from her raw vocal cords or whatever’s so desperate to consume her mind, her sanity, a snarling and angry thing urging her to run, to fight, kill.

She thinks she is no longer herself. She thinks, I am going to die. She thinks- nothing, anymore, finally sinking into a sweet unconsciousness.

Minutes or days later, she wakes up shivering, the sheets around her soaked through with sweat and torn to shreds where the claws- herclaws- have ripped through them. She tumbles off the bed, huddled on the floor and retching up nothing, like she could cough up all this blood and whatever’s taken root in the back of her still-fragile brain. Someone comes to check on her eventually, and when she tries to ask them how long it’s been, the only sound that comes out is a hoarse rattle. The screaming, she assumes.

The person performing the exam offers no answers to her unspoken questions. They move quickly, clinically, and take the mangled sheets with them when they leave.

Another indeterminable amount of time passes. They determine that she is no longer dangerously unhinged; the transformation is complete and she is, medically speaking, healthy and mostly healed. She doesn't agree, but they don't ask her opinion before methodically cleaning their tools and leaving her to her solitude again.

Between these impersonal visits, she tries to sleep, but despite her exhaustion, she only manages to slip into uneasy, fitful nightmares from time to time. When she isn’t waking from terrible, bloody visions that leave her screaming and tearing at the blankets that smother her, her skin that’s too small to contain the wolf snarling within, she lies huddled in the middle of the bed, trying to block out everything else. Even this room is too much; her aching eyes catch and snap to the slightest movement, her nose twitches as it seeks out the smells of the kitchen, the woods, the people halls away. Sometimes she hears what they whisper about her in passing, and that’s somehow worse than anything else barraging her senses.

More time inches away. The pain wreathing her body fades until it's only the memory of it that makes her muscles sore and tender. In a dream, someone calls a name she doesn’t recognize as her own until hours later. Her bones break and reform in a new image, then do it again. After she jolts upright, unbidden tears streaking down her face, she spends the next few hours muttering her name to herself lest she forget it again and become- something else. Therisse. Therisse. If she repeats it enough, she hopes it will feel like hers again.

She’s staring at the ceiling, body aching and eyes frenetically tracking the movement of dust motes in the sun, when the door opens. Her first impulse is to ignore it; the servants have taken to scurrying in and out as quickly as possible, only pausing to cast her fascinated glances that become frighted when she looks back.

But it can’t be one of them, she realizes with a frown. Heightened hearing picks up the difference in tread, and she raises her pounding head to see Syfyn staring down at her. Therisse’s heart jumps for a moment at the inscrutable look in her friend’s eyes, the pause as Syfyn’s mouth opens to speak-

“You look like shit,” she scoffs, and kicks the bedpost. “Come on.”

Therisse clears her throat. “Where?” then cringes at the sound of her voice, rusty from disuse and more gravelly than it was before.

Syfyn extends a hand. “Train with me. You’re gonna wither away if you stay in here any longer.” Her fingers are rough and calloused, sharp-tipped. Therisse reaches out, letting her own clawed fingers wrap tentatively around Syfyn’s forearm as her friend pulls her from the bed. Like this, their hands together, Therisse doesn’t feel nearly so lost. She lets Syfyn lead her outside into the sunlight, cracking jokes about her appearance and her “vacation time” until Therisse tackles her and they start shoving each other around the courtyard, laughing and snarling like nothing’s different.

[monofpoke4life]

Once Upon a Rooftop

(AN: This originally started as a livewrite on discord with the prompts Roof and Dance, and this is what I came up with. I thought I’d share it here. Note: Dance companies make you sign up for more than one class of different dance styles. Also, you don’t control the outfits, especially for something like The Nutcracker. It’s like a uniform. Lmao, can’t believe I had a review on ff.net that didn’t know that. Anyway, please enjoy).

Zim clamped his mouth shut as he peered into the hallway from inside the vent. His analytical gaze watched closely as a pair of boots passed by. The shadow of his enemy's abnormally large head trailed behind him.

The boots squeaked as they cautiously rounded a corner, ready for an ambush that never came. There was a pause, and the owner of the boots continued forward. Only when he could no longer hear the footsteps did Zim dare to emerge from his dusty, makeshift cave. Quickly taking a moment to brush the dust off, he dashed up the stairs to escape pursuit.

Higher and higher he climbed, never daring to stop in one of the classrooms. That's where the Dib-armadillo wanted him to hide! But as a formidable, Irken war machine, such as himself, the mighty Zim was much too smart for that.

Not to mention he just wanted to desperately leave this citadel full of the stench of humiliation and shame that humans called "Hi-Skool."

It was bad enough that, for the sake of his mission, his presence was required to be here during the daytime, but to stay for research only to end up in failure was even more torturous, especially when Dib started chasing him. 

As his mind reminded him of his failure, just as he swiftly approached the lone, cold door, he channeled all of his frustration into ramming the normally locked door. He was so lost in his ire that he failed to notice the door propped open by a fist sized stone.

"HAHA-" Zim screamed in triumph, bursting through the rooftop doors with a bit of a stumble. It immediately swung back and hit him, knocking him over. Springing to his feet, he screeched at the loathsome thing! How dare it lay its nonexistent hands upon his greatness!

His pak legs sprung free with the ends glowing red-hot, ready to deal the final blow, but a voice stopped him in his tracks.

"If you destroy it, the alarm will go off."

Zim's fists tightened and his pak legs instantly retreated. His skin prickled at the sound of her voice, and he whirled around on his heel.

"You didn't see anything!" The words belted from his mouth before he fully turned. However, now that he had, and taking in the sight of the Dib-sister, his tirade of insults fell short.

His face frozen in indignant anger as he gawked. The earth's filthy moon bathed her in an otherworldly glow as it reflected off vast expanse of rarely exposed skin and the sheer, white fabric of her pitiful earth attire. As her “long tunic” swayed in the breeze, he couldn't help but think she looked like that white thingy upon Dib-dirt's shirt. Of course, she was much more not unpleasant to look at.

His mind nearly blanked in captivation before her response snapped him back to reality.

"Should've known you'd find me. I mean, you've only followed me for like what? Two weeks?"

"What?! No I haven't! Don't be ridiculous! An Irken as mighty as Zim has no need to follow the likes of you! I have way more important things to do than that."

Gaz narrowed her eyes as he nonchalantly sat beside her, yet she observed his eyes flicking frantically around at anywhere else but at her. His back stiff as a board as he leaned against the air conditioning unit, and claws nervously clicking against the warm roof.

"Okay, let's pretend I believe you. What important things are you doing here?"

The change in his mood was instantaneous as he smirked, and puffed his chest like a proud peacock. "Oh silly little Gaz, isn't it obvious?"

He offhandedly gestured towards her from head to toe, doing nothing more than conflicting his previous words and confusing her more.

Unfortunately, her puzzled glare did nothing more than feed his ego. He sent her a devious, superior grin that made her want to punch him, and made her stomach do tiny flips. "Oh you don't know? Well, I suppose such effects are to be expected from such a powerful form of hypnosis capable of ensnaring the little Gaz."

"Hypnosis?" Okay, now the alien grass stain really had her confused as she let herself blurt her puzzlement. She knew he misinterpreted human things all the time with his logic, or his lack there of entirely, but she could usually make some sense out of his backwards nonsense. Unfortunately, this time she was at a loss.

He nodded, his grin grew wider, as he continued. "Yes, the one you clearly broke out of since you are no longer in the audi-toe-rem with the rest of the frilly filthies. I expect nothing less from someone as superior as Little Gaz."

Gaz bit her lip as a slight heat rose to her cheeks. She normally didn't care much for compliments, but one said so flippantly and without some form of backhandedness was actually a welcome compliment.

However, she couldn't bask in it, nor did she want to, as she finally had some clues to work off of. Her eyes narrowed once more at him as her mind whirled through the possibilities a mile a minute.

"Hypnosis in the auditorium?" As she said it aloud, memories of why she was even on the roof, in this stupid dress, made her fists clench at her side.

Ignoring her knuckles turning white, Zim obliviously elaborated, "Yes, I stumbled across it's magnificent power in the gym two weeks ago."

"Oh what a coincidence," Gaz growled.

Normally, this would strike fear in those around her within a 20 ft radius, but Zim turned to her, unfazed, as he bragged, "I know right? Sometimes my brilliance amazes even me!"

"I suppose somebody has to be."

"At first I thought of how pitiful and weak minded humans were to fall for such simple methods of mind control such as dainty and weak music coming from a rounded box. With they're rapid twirly movements and unnaturally pointed shoes, they all looked like flailing flobblewumps!" He screamed that last part.

At the mention of some creature she didn't know of, he threw his head back to laugh at the ridiculous memory.

"Quit screaming in my ear before I turn you into a flag."

His mouth abruptly clicked shut. He glared at her. She stood up, and he flinched. She smirked at that, before leaning back and hopping on top of the ac unit, ignoring the high voltage sticker.

He opened his mouth once more, but she cut him off. 

"Oh keep bragging about your brilliance and tell me what changed. Just not so loud."

Her "compliment," despite sarcastic, had its desired effect as Zim stood. Brushing himself off of imaginary dirt and congratulating her for finally noticing how great he is, until he stopped as something finally clicked in his mind. "Eh? Change? What change? Zim is still brilliant."

Gaz rolled her eyes at that. "You said the hypnosis was simple and weak. I'm assuming you didn't think it was worth your time, but you're here looking for it, right?"

"Affirmative."

"Then what changed? What made it worthy of the powerful Zim?"

Zim's narrowed eyes immediately lit up at that. In fact, they seemed to glimmer at her like a kid being handed a lollipop, as he bragged, "You finally acknowledge my superiority"

"I never said that."

"I suppose that hypnosis has some benefits. In any case, if you must know, it was during my observations that I noticed among the group was the deadly Little Gaz. Someone as strong in strength and mind would never fall for such a weak hypnosis, meaning it's power was far greater than even my powerful Irken brain meats could fathom! I knew I had to make it my own!"

"I suppose me being in a revealing leotard and tights had nothing to do with it?"

"Eh? You were not wearing any fur?"

"Leotard, Zim. Le-o-tard. Not leopard." Gaz shook her head at this not knowing whether to smile and let the chuckle bubbling up from her throat out or frown and squash it down. Zim's misunderstanding logic was always good for a laugh, yet it unsettled her how easily she could follow his logic. She'd been spending too much time with him.

"Eh?! No that's- I was just testing you! After experiencing such a powerful hypnosis, one's meat functions of their mind might not come back. Just making sure everything was there. It is. You're in top tip shape like a good soldier. Yes indeed ha ha Ha ha ha."

Zim didn't realize until it was too late that he instinctively reached out and patted her head. He'd gotten more "human" and "handy" as of late with Gir, and giving little praises usually involved patting his metallic head. So he didn’t realize he’d done the same to her until it was too late.

The feeling of her soft hair beneath his gloved-touch sent him reeling back. His arm immediately clutched to his chest as if he had been struck by a snake.

Well, definitely something akin to it. The Gaz-beast was quite known for her brutal fists, merciless kicks, sharp nails, and power that could make even full grown human-filthies soil themselves at just a glance. The former three he knew very well from personal experience, so he wasn't wrong to assume what was surely to come. 

After all, nobody touched the Dib-sister without retaliation.

Well, actually there was that one time he…

Zim shook his head to dispel the thoughts from his mind. Something was wrong. He was still able to think. Too many thoughts and not enough pain for someone about to stare into the depths of hell of her amber eyes. He should be experiencing more pain than thoughts right now. So why wasn't he?

Zim opened his eyes, that he didn't remember closing, and found himself still very much alive and still very much not in pain. Also, it was too quiet. He at least expected to hear the sounds of a nightmare world without waking; however, all that met his hidden antennae was the muffled sound of the gentle winds.

Tentatively, Zim glanced out of the corner of his eye. Maybe she hadn't noticed the touch? No! That was impossible! The Gaz didn't miss anything! She must have her reasons.

Feeling braver from his lack of death, Zim turned his head, and found himself transfixed by the wisps of see-through material of her long tunic dancing upon the breeze. A dress, if he remembered correctly. 

His gaze shifted down to the clear outline of white, tight covered legs and those bizarre shoes she wore. Their white, shiny, cloth exterior also shined within the moonlight as they shook.

Wait, shook?

Immediately his eyes flicked back up to the rest of her to find her shoulders shaking as well. Her arms crossed in a manner as if she were hugging herself, and her head was tilted down in a way her bangs hid her more pleasant than average face.

Was she? Was Gaz- No! She wouldn't! She couldn't...could she? Well, she was only human. A regretful feature, but surely...by the Control Brains what should he do?

Tentatively he shuffled closer, clearing his throat like a cat hacking up a hairball. Her shoulders began to shake more ever so slightly. 

He took a long moment looking at anything but her before finally returning his gaze to her once more. "Little Gaz, are you-" He began as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

However, just before his clawed-tips made contact, her body pitched forward and then back. Her head thrown back as she laughed uproariously.

She was...she was laughing?! At Zim?! It was the only reasonable explanation! Others' stupidity and misfortune always made her laugh, and what she said next only confirmed his suspicions.

"You- haha- you thought I was under hyp- hahaha hypnosis because of my recital?"

"Yes!?" Zim yelled quizzically, desperately trying to use his volume and bravado to hide his embarrassment. It made her snicker. She could never take him seriously when he got like this, let alone the hilarity of the situation.

"That's another type of earth hypnosis, is it not?"

"What did I say about yelling?"

His mouth clicked shut, and she snickered again. It was too easy at times.

"No, it's not," she answered simply as she hopped down from the ac unit. Using the movement as extra time to regain her composure.  She was careful not to scuff the satin of her shoes or land awkwardly on the pointes. This night was a shit show enough without her tripping and landing on her face. 

Smoothing out her dress, and finally calm enough, Gaz turned to him as she replied, "A recital is a type or performance, usually for dancing. You know what dancing is, right?"

"Yes I know what dancing is!" He angrily hissed back, still feeling tricked from earlier.

His eyes grew wide for talking back to her, something he learned a long time ago to never do to her. His hand slammed fearfully over his mouth, yet Gaz made no move to maim him.

At his response, she merely shrugged and said, "That was a dick move on my part, so let's call it even, okay?" 

Zim didn't know the meaning of that one word, but he knew the rest and merely nodded.

Whiner. Anything to save his own skin.

She snickered at him again, and he kept himself calm this time, as he elaborated, "Yeah- well- even by inferior, human standards, the clearly superior vision spheres of Zim have never seen this spinning and leaping dance at school dances."

"That's because it's an old, fancy dance. Earth has tons of outdated dances."

"And what is the dance you were doing? The one that makes you look all-" he trailed off as he found himself at a loss for words. He unconsciously began to wiggle his arm in imitation of a snake, or a wave, or just water. "All liquid-y?"

"Fluidly. The word you're looking for is fluidly, and what happened to humans flailing about like a space alien?"

Zim looked away from her. Pfft. Typical. As he cleared his throat once more, and mumbled something under his breath.

"Spit it out, Zim," she hissed, putting extra venom on his name. 

He crossed his arms like a child, kicking a chunk of concrete, before he finally muttered, "You are the least terrible at it out of the group."

Gaz took a deep breath as she fought back the heat in her cheeks, crossing her arms across her chest in what she'd call defiance. 

Others would call it protectively. Of course, those others were wrong. 

"Thanks, I think. I'm glad somebody liked my dancing. Oh, and by the way, it's called ballet."

"But what does this bullet dance-"

"Ballet."

"Have anything to do with hypnosis?"

Gaz wanted to facepalm at this.

"I just said it wasn't hypnosis. It's an after school activity, like Dib and his stupid marching band or soccer."

"But you are not a server drone! You're of much higher quality than that. I can understand an activity that's a competition like with the game of the ball kicking, but as you said this is to perform, to entertain others? Why would little Gaz want to perform for others?"

At this, Zim regretted his choice of words instantly, as it was like a switch had gone off in Little Gaz's head as she immediately reacted. However, unlike the pain he expected, which would be a welcome change at this point, she took a few steps back, sitting down and turning away all in one movement.

In human terms, he had fucked up, and had fucked up badly. 

He clicked his claws together nervously, unsure of his next course of action.

"You...are..." he paused. He needed to choose his words carefully. "You are... unsatisfied?"

"Understatement of the century." Gaz quipped back sarcastically to hide the bubbling emotions that wanted to come to the surface.

"What is it that unsatisfied you, and why are you here and not down there or dooming what ails you?" He asked as he quietly approached. She seemed to be of sound enough mind.

"Zim, if you actually want me to answer then you have to stop asking questions."

He froze in place, just an arms length away. He pondered if he should take a step back, before she took a shuddering breath, and answered, "I'm up here for the same reason I joined this stupid activity."

Finding himself not doomed and nothing was on fire, Zim sat down next to her, imitating her pose of having her knees drawn up to his chest and arms around his knees. He glanced over once more, yet still remained silent.

At his quiet puzzlement, Gaz let out an exasperated sigh as she reflexively covered her face. She didn't want to be here, up here, like this...she should've known better...she did know better, but she left herself hope. Now she was up here with Zim of all people. It was quite ironic if she thought about it. Funny actually.

At the sound of her snicker, he thought she had fooled him again. However, as he turned to face her and to yell, he stopped short as the water droplets dripped down her face.

Zim recoiled as he watched her throw her head back to laugh and cry at the same time. He nervously drummed his claws against the roof tiles, completely unsettled by her insane behavior. Worse still that it was so out of character for someone like her. He merely gulped and remained where sat. Too afraid to move.

"Ya know, it's fucking ironic that the people who like me, aren't even here for me, yet you're here! You! You the alien who hates humans is here for performance and my own family isn't!" Gaz barked out between laughs.

"But the Dib-foot, he is-"

"Is only here because he followed you here. I know. I ran into him before coming up here," she said this time, only a bit quieter as her laughter turned into quiet, choked sobs.

Zim watched her curl herself further into a ball as she desperately wiped at her face, as if just realizing tears were leaking down her cheeks.

Zim looked all around him. There had to be something there to distract the Gaz. Surely something he could set on fire or tip over to cause her devious laughter to spring forth from her and not this crummy...not laughter!

However, he found nothing, and his gaze returned to her once more. What to do? What to do? What to do?!

Gaz stilled as she suddenly felt something touching her hair. It felt like a mix of a pet and a pat like someone who didn't know how to touch others.

She almost wanted to laugh at the mental picture within her head. Even if they weren't the only two on the roof, it was no surprise who this was. After all, nobody else was stupid enough to touch her. Another side of her wanted to break his hand, and the final part of her wanted to see where he would go with this.

"There...there? Yes, there there Little Gaz. Do not fret. Ultra Peepi will live up- Wait-"

Zim frowned and pulled back, rubbing his chin pensively as he realized that was the wrong scenario.

Luckily, despite being unintended, it seemed to work as Zim heard a snicker escape her. His head whipped around to see the liquid had stopped falling, yet she still hid her face from Zim.

Well, it was a start.

There was a moment of silence between them where neither of them dared to say anything. Gaz ran the jagged edge of bitten nail against her shoe, and Zim stretched his legs out, boredly clicked his heels together. 

Although, something had to give. Zim was going bonkers with curiosity as he exaggeratedly fought with himself, internally, of whether or not he should say something or to her or something. 

When he finally couldn't take it anymore with his shuffling antics, he leaned over, claw raised, and mouth open ready to interrogate her for brain worms left over from the hypnosis, yet she beat him to it.

"You have no idea what's going on, do you?" She stated more as a fact than a question.

"Eh? Was I supposed to?"

Gaz merely shook her head, yet it was unclear if she was dismissing his answer or herself for the question. He wanted to ask more, but the white knuckled grip she had upon her shoe ribbons kept him silent.

Good thing too, as she continued, "Ya know how my dad has been home a lot more? He's been trying to do better at the whole being a dad thing."

Zim listened attentively, but he was unsure why. It's not like it was important to him. Then again... that which was important to the Dib-sister must be important; however, he found his gaze drifting to her hands as they roughly began to untie one of her shoe ribbons.

It was best when in the presence of a predator to keep an eye on their greatest weapons. The only reason. Not because of how merciless she made the frantic job of shoe untying.

"He asked us why we didn't participate in any school activities or if we had any other interests." He flinched as he heard the earthly stitching rip slightly at the extra force she used when she said activities and interests.

"He wanted to expand our horizons and to be supportive of us."

Zim lit up at this, having finally found an opening, as he quipped, "And he did unsatisfactory?"

Zim immediately regretted speaking as she violently slid off her right shoe, and threw it at the gate lining the roof, to make sure people didn't fall off.

Zim scooted backwards as it softly bounced back to them, landing right beside his boot.

Although, despite her lashing out, what she said next surprised him. "Oh no. He did great. Wonderful even! He's been there every step of the way with my dancing and Dib's whatever!"

Zim narrowed his eyes at her as she began to work on her other shoe. Her tone suggested sarcasm, yet he could also tell she meant it. She wasn't lying. 

Zim shook his head to ward off his confusion. She was apparently committed to telling him. He just needed to listen.

"But, as you've noticed, he's not here!" 

Another rip of her shoe ribbon.

"He's not here, for once, not because of work, but because he decided to be a normal dad and decided to get here in a normal car!"

Two more rips.

"And a normal," rip, "car can't get by a four car pile up on a freeway!"

She yanked her shoe off and threw it at the gate, as she exclaimed louder than intended, "He's not here like always! I got my hopes up, I was let down like always, but it's not his fault and I can't even be mad at him!"

The final shoe bounced back and landed next to her this time. She paid it no mind as she began to rub at her feet and ankles, sore from the months of practice and from rehearsals earlier that day. "He says traffic is backed up and there's no way for him to turn around, and it's going to be hours before they let traffic through. Which means all of my effort, all of my hardwork to make him proud has been for nothing because he won't get to see it!"

The wind picked up around them, but they paid it no mind. Too consumed with their own thoughts to notice. 

Neither were willing to say anything. At least, not until Zim spoke first. 

"I wouldn't say it was all for nothing, even if it is just an inferior earth activity."  Zim shuddered as she sent him a pointed glare that spoke volumes.

It said, you better have a good point or perish.

He gulped.

"What I mean is that you learned a new skill? One that even a highly advanced creature, such as Zim, must admit is quite amazing." He picked up the nearest shoe, analyzing it, as he pondered allowed, "I mean, how is that you spin on the tips of your hooves"

"Feet."

"And leap so high?"

"Practice?"

"And move like an Irken elite?"

Gaz gave no reply at that, and Zim immediately feared he had screwed up. He whipped his head around to see if he should run, but was pleasantly surprised to see a small smile upon her face.

His squeedily spooch simultaneously stuttered and did backflips at the sight. He nervously drummed his claws against the shoe. Maybe he was not entirely unaffected by the hypnosis as he once thought.

"An elite, huh?" She inquired slyly. Two compliments in one night. A new record. If this were a game, she'd surely have unlocked an achievement of some kind. 

"Y-yes! As a superior Irken Invader, who are only picked from the most elite of the elite, such greatness can't hide from my magnificent vision." 

She smirked at what should have been his clean getaway of his third compliment hidden beneath all of that bragging, if not for the dark emerald fish staining across his cheeks; meanwhile averting any and all eye contact with her.

"Greatness?"

Reeling from realizing his mistake, Zim's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates, and he made a sound that she could only describe as a verbal key smash.

Gaz couldn't help herself as a small laugh bubbled to surface. The sound made Zim's shoulders relax, but also deflated a little. He appeared conflicted, but what he said earlier still rang in her head.

Before she knew it she had picked up the other shoe, and gazed down upon it thoughtfully. "I hate to admit it, but I suppose you're right." She rolled her eyes as he puffed out his chest, before she continued, "I did learn a new skill, and it was kind of fun."

Unfortunately, her better mood turned bitter rather quickly as she gripped the shoe tightly, glaring at it, as she continued, "But what good is a skill if I can't use it? If I can't show it to the people I care about?"

"You can't?"

"That was rhetorical, but no, I can't."

"Why not? Don't human babies show off to their parents units all of the time in their dwellings?"

"Because it's not the same. They can, but, it's not the same as an actual performance. You would lack the tools and the rest of the cast. It would be like a machine missing some parts because it doesn't...fit together."

She reached atop her head, and pulled on a ribbon, setting her hair free from its tightly coiled bun. She shook her head with a scoff, as she remarked, "I guess this skill will just go to waste."

She hadn't really meant it, nor did she mean anything by it. However, Zim didn't get the memo, and sprung to his feet. Ignorant of the fact that he dropped the shoe Zim shouted, "No you can't!"

Gaz's wide eyes quickly turned back to their normal, apathetic facade, as she inquired, "And why can't I?"

"Because the mighty Zim demands it!"

"Yeah, well I demand my foot up your-"

"No- I- Grrragh! Look! You look not unpleasant when you do it, and it makes you stronger for it!"

"But I don't have anyone to wat-"

"You have me! Teach to Zim!"

Okay, now Gaz was stumped. Forget the fact that Zim was asking a human to teach him a human thing, but she didn't even mention teaching.

"Okay, you've lost me."

"Heh heh heh, foolish human-babe-"

"Watch it-"

"-y. I any human can watch another perform a skill, but it takes skill to learn a skill, and Zim is the most skilled of skilled Irkens. Besides, it's best to stay in practice, and will keep you on your toes."

"That made no sense and that last part sounded more like a spar, but I'll bite. So what's the catch?"

"Eh? Catch? Like human germs?"

"Nevermind. Look, just don't screw me over later."

"I would never."

She glared at him as she stood, brushing herself off without breaking eye contact.

Zim cleared his throat. "Starting now, I have never screwed you over."

"Better keep your word, space bug."

"I wouldn't dare risk your wrath."

"Fair point. Now step forward."

"Wait, what about your tippy shoes."

"They're pointe shoes, and I don't need them."

"Why?"

"Because I'm not teaching you ballet."

"But-"

She didn't let him finish as she pulled him closer by the hips, almost slamming into her. She smirked as he squeaked.

"We don't have months, Zim. Besides, ballet isn't the only dance I learned." With that said, she grabbed  his left hand with her right, interlacing their mismatched fingers far easier than she anticipated. "Now put your right hand on my shoulder."

He did as instructed, and she couldn't help but quote her teacher, as she scolded, "Keep it there softly. Don't grip it like a claw machine."

Immediately the pressure relented and she sighed a little in relief. She placed her hand around his waist. Her cheeks began to heat, or they would've, if he didn't look rather smug at that moment. 

It took a second for her to realize, and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm only two centimeters shorter than you, ya know?"

"Two glorious units of measurement."

Oh it was on. She didn't give him time, as she jumped right in with the bare minimum of explanation. "Now where I go, you go. Follow my lead."

Zim opened his mouth to object, but quickly found her surging forward, ready to bowl him over. Thankfully, with his far superior Irken training, he swiftly back stepped without falling over...more or less.

"Back, side, forward, other side, repeat." They did it again, and he did rather well.

"Not bad. No stepping on feet and no stumbles, except for that one," Despite her jab at the end, Zim lit up at her praise and puffed his chest out once more like the proudest peacock that ever peacocked.

"Okay, now we do that while spinning and moving in a circle."

"Do wha-" and they were moving again.

Zim stumbled once more, as she purposefully caught him off guard. Couldn't let him get too cocky. 

"And what is this dance called?"

"The waltz."

"Is it also old and fancy?"

"Very old and very fancy."

"Fancier than ballet?"

"No."

He deflated a little at that and she chuckled at that. Zim frowned that she was laughing at his expense, but it wasn't an unpleasant laugh. I'm fact, it was one he wouldn't mind hearing again. They easily fell into a rhythm after that, as they whirled around in their tiny circle like two stars rotating around each other. Lost in their own little world. 

Her wispy skirt fluttered and flared with every movement and dancing upon the occasional breeze. He finally understood the need to make satire out of such flimsy material. 

Not long after Zim made this observation, did he realize another. There was a soft melody in the air that he hadn't noticed before. It was one of the few he recognized from one of her practices, yet it was different somehow. Only when Gaz stepped forward and into his distracted chest did he feel the vibration coming from her, and he realized she was humming.

He found that this was also not unpleasant. 

In fact, many things about Little Gaz were mostly not unpleasant, and that was fine by him.

[gendercraft]

When I Fell Overboard [Chapter Two: Sage & Raspberry Tea]

Read on ao3 

Synopsis: Sebastian struggles with his relationship with Maru as she strives to get close to him. Meanwhile, he and Elliott get closer and closer.

Trigger warnings: Panic attacks, fighting, snapping, potentially unsympathetic Robin, crying, food mention, let me know if I missed anything please

Rain pounded on the thin roof. Sebastian pressed his face to the pillow, not wanting to open his eyes. He was so comfortable. The air was cold, the blanket was thin, and he couldn’t stop shivering, but he didn’t want to move. There was a smell that engulfed him, like parsley and sage, and fresh raspberry tea. 

A cold draft swept through the cabin. Sebastian curled tighter and cracked his eyes open, only to jerk upright. Elliott had fallen asleep at his desk, the oil lamp illuminating his pronounced features. His long auburn hair fell in cascades down his shoulders, over the desk. It looked so soft. 

Shit. Shit. He’d stolen this man’s bed. 

He got to his feet and found his shoes, quietly lacing them up. He flicked up his hood and cautiously approached Elliott. He snored when he slept. Cute. 

“Elliott,” he whispered, shifting uncomfortably. He hated waking people up. People got angry when they were woken. “Elliott, you should get in bed.” 

“Hm?” He brushed his hair out of his face and settled more comfortably on the desk, humming. 

Sebastian hesitated, then grabbed his shoulder and gently shook him. Elliott’s eyes cracked open. He smiled. 

“Oh, Sebastian.” He slowly sat up and stretched, a yawn forcing its way past his lips. “Mm, you’re awake. How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” Sebastian admitted. If only he wasn’t so fucking cold. “But I’m sorry for taking your bed.” 

He waved his hand. “Nonsense, I insisted. Oh, you’re shivering! Let me get you one more cup of tea before you leave, okay? Give you time to wake up, too.” 

Sebastian blushed. “Are you sure?” He asked as Elliott crossed into the kitchen. “You’ve already done so much—” 

“Please.” He smiled, half in the kitchen and half in the cabin. “It’s the least I could do in exchange for some lovely company.” 

Sebastian sat in Elliott’s abandoned writing chair—just plain wood, pretty uncomfortable—and nodded. Elliott came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug and a green wool blanket. He handed Sebastian the mug and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. 

“There you go.” Elliott picked his hairbrush up off the desk and sat on his bed as he began methodically bringing it through his long hair. 

Sebastian watched his hands move, that and the tea and Yoba this blanket smelled like him too, almost lulling him back to sleep. 

“What time is it?” He asked. 

“Almost midnight.” 

“Shit,” he mumbled. “Mom’s gonna be pissed.” 

Elliott raised an eyebrow. “You are an adult, Sebastian. You’re allowed to stay out as late as you want.” 

Sebastian looked up in surprise. “What? No! I mean, yeah, obviously, just…” 

“Just what?” 

“Nothing. She just gets worried.” 

“Well, I can’t say that’s unjustified. You did sleep for a long time. If you don’t mind me asking…” He hesitated. 

Sebastian gestured. “Just say it.” 

“What triggered the attack? I haven’t seen one that bad in years.” 

Sebastian shifted uncomfortably. “Uh… I got in a fight. With my sister, and Mom.” 

“Maru?” 

“Mhm.” 

“What were you fighting about?” 

He wet his lips. He busied himself with sipping at his tea until half of it was gone, scalding his throat. He could use a cigarette, but he didn’t want to smoke in Elliott’s cabin without permission. “It’s dumb.” 

“It upset you,” he pointed out. “How could that be dumb?” 

Because I’m dumb. “It just was. It was a stupid joke, she didn’t mean anything by it.” 

“I have a hard time believing you’re giving me all the details,” he said softly, “but I won’t pry.” 

Sebastian hesitated, then stumbled through a, “Thank you, um… for the- for the help. It was… I mean, that was more than… Thanks.” 

“It was a pleasure, Sebastian. I’m glad you’re feeling better. You’ll let me loan you an umbrella for the walk home?” 

Sebastian finished his tea and set the mug on the desk. “You really don’t have to do that.” 

“Who said I did? I want to.” 

Elliott and Sebastian had barely said two words to each other before now. The most they saw each other was at Pierre’s and festivals. The last one, the luau, Sebastian spent the whole of it avoiding everyone while Elliott talked up as many people as he could. Elliott somehow always arrived late to that one, forgetting the date until he stepped right into it. He was both nothing like Sebastian expected, and exactly what he expected. 

He was softer. Kinder. Less absorbed with himself. Sebastian had a bad habit of assuming the worst in people; when he saw Elliott, he saw an overdramatic airhead. Guilt settled in his stomach like bile. He was probably the nicest man in Pelican Town. 

“I should get going.” Sebastian stood, draping the blanket over the back of the chair. 

Elliott nodded. He picked up an umbrella from the corner of the cabin and held it out. Sebastian reached out to take it, only for Elliott’s other hand to close around his. 

“About what happened with Maru,” he said softly, and Sebastian stared at him with wide eyes, “you should be a little kinder to yourself. You’re allowed to have feelings.” 

Butterflies fluttered in Sebastian’s stomach. He swallowed as Elliott took his hand back, and all the electricity with it. 

“I’ll try,” he lied. 

Elliott walked him out, and Sebastian raised the umbrella. It wasn’t too terribly windy, so he was able to hold it with one hand and smoke a cigarette with the other. He held it between two fingers, closing his eyes as his sneakers clacked over the cobblestone bridge. 

Why was he disappointed to leave? Sure, he was pleasantly surprised about the type of person Elliott turned out to be—but missing him? They just met, really. And what was there to miss? All Sebastian did was steal his bed. 

Sebastian kicked a rock. You stole his bed. He stomped out his cigarette and dropped his face in his free hand. Idiot. 

There was something about when Elliott touched him—Elliott was so free with his touches, who was like that?—that made everything quiet. His heartbeat sped up, his cheeks flushed, his mind blanked. Was he really that pathetic? Getting all gay over a few small touches? 

And for Elliott. Sebastian was never sure about his sexuality, never really cared much, but if he ended up liking guys he certainly never expected them to be like Elliott. There wasn’t really anyone in Pelican Town he could imagine himself with. The only people he even respected were Sam and Abigail, and maybe Abigail would’ve been the perfect fit if—if what? That was always the question mark. If what? He guessed it might be if she were a guy. 

Was he really gay? 

He shook his head. One night and he was questioning his entire non-existent sexuality. 

When he arrived home, he opened the door as quietly as possible, closing the umbrella and shaking it off outside. He wiped his feet on the mat and when the lights came on, he jumped ten feet in the air. 

“Sebastian.” His mom came over and gripped his shoulders, looking him all over. “Do you have any idea what time it is? What’s the matter with you, scaring us like that?!” 

“He’s home?” Maru called from her room. The door opened and her footsteps rushed out. 

Sebastian scowled and looked away. “Yeah, I’m alive,” he snapped. “And I’m fine. Can I just go to my room?” 

“Why do you have to be so hostile all the time?” Mom asked in exasperation. “You scared me sick and here you are, still snapping at me.” 

Maru sighed and leaned against the wall. 

He didn’t realize until now, but he was still mad about this morning. He’d forgotten. 

“Do we have to talk about it again?” He asked, shoulders slumping. “I get it. I can’t take a joke. I sleep too much. I’m sorry, okay? Am I good to go?” 

Mom frowned deeply. “Sebby…” 

He sighed and slipped away from her, passing Maru on his way to the basement. He descended down the steps and half-slammed his bedroom door closed, turning the lock even though no one had ever come after him. Well, if the door was loud enough, Demetrius might come down to scold him. Whatever. 

He sat at his computer and pulled on his headset. It was close to one by now, but he wasn’t sleepy. He might as well get some work done. He put on some music and brought up his latest project, working through the code slowly and meticulously. 

About a half hour later, someone knocked at his door. It took a minute or two of them knocking for him to even realize, pulling his headset off and listening with a frown and drawn brows until they knocked again. 

He grimaced and went over to pull open the door. 

Maru stood there, her deep brown skin flushed a russet red in the cheeks, lip worried between her teeth. 

“Can we talk?” She asked. 

Sebastian hesitated. “Sure. What is it?” 

She waited, he wasn’t sure what for. He gestured for her to get on with it. She rolled her eyes and stamped her foot—and they call me childish—then said, “I just think we should be done fighting, okay? It’s starting to affect Robin and Dad.” 

Sebastian kept his expression blank, hiding a frown. “What do you mean?” 

“I heard them talking, after you left. You’re stressing them out, Sebastian. We’re stressing them out.” Then, she said with a hint of arrogance, “And I don’t think that’s fair to them. Do you?” 

He scowled. “Of course not.”

“So…” She gestured to him. 

“What?” He asked in annoyance. 

She sighed again, hard. “I’ll go first, then. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the jokes and whatever else set you off. And I’ll try to—” 

“Listen?” He asked harshly. 

“Yes, actually. I’ll try to listen more.” 

He shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, okay. I mean, I’ll believe it when I see it, you know.” 

“Right. And?” 

“And…” He crossed his arms, looking away. “I’m sorry, too,” he mumbled. 

“What was that?” She grinned. 

He glared. “Fuck off, Maru!” 

“Yoba, we’re off to a bad start. I’ll be quiet this time, I promise.” 

“I’m sorry for snapping,” he snapped. “Are we good?” 

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Seb- Sebastian.” 

He faltered. “Uh— Yeah. Goodnight.” 

She left. The door clicked closed softly. His hand hovered over the lock, then left it. He plopped back in his chair. 

What was that? 

He didn’t get to bed until eight a.m., when everyone else was waking up. He laid under the covers with burning eyes as laughter echoed from upstairs. They were eating breakfast together, no doubt. If Sebastian went up there, would they ask him to join? 

No. They probably wouldn’t. 

He curled in on himself and closed his eyes. He never realized how bad his room smelled. What did he have to do to get it to smell like sage and raspberry tea? And what did he have to do to be a part— 

No. That was not what he wanted. 

He thought back to the hand closed over his, the umbrella underneath. It was so warm. When was the last time he held someone’s hand? He loved Abigail and Sam, but they weren’t super touchy-feely. The only time Abigail offered physical affection was during comforting, and Sam was uncomfortable with it full stop. Sebastian’s skin tingled. He craved a body beside him and he didn’t know why. Why did he crave it like he was starved for it? Why did he wonder if he could even go on if he didn’t get a hug right that instant? 

His eyes watered. Stupid. He was so pathetic, a baby. A hug was really what broke him? The nail in the coffin of his mental state? 

What would it be like to hug Elliott? To bury his face in his neck, rest his head on his broad chest? His arms wrapped tight around his frame, Sebastian’s arms wrapped around him? 

Stop. Stop being creepy. Stop. 

Sebastian buried his face in the pillow. What was wrong with him? He wasn’t sure what made him so awkward, so weird, so rude, so creepy, but he hated it. He hated who he was. And for some reason the only thing he could imagine could make him feel better was a hug he was never going to get.

I'll post the next chapter once I get one (1) comment <3 reblog please 

[black-streak]

For the spitefest, can I request birthday (it's my birthday tomorrow)

Happy Birthday! Have some disaster humans for your special day. This piece is a little more secretly angsty hidden behind humor then expected, but I hope you enjoy!

~---~

Tim fell into his usual seat at the little cafe in a side alley close to WE, dropping his head into his arms and allowing himself to doze until a cup of coffee landed before him.

"You're becoming spoilt," a melodic voice spoke over him.

"Hmm?" Tim looked up at Marinette, who stood to his side, moving his elbow just in time to not knock the cup over and watching him grasp at the mug to sip at.

"You don't even order at the counter anymore. Just fall into here and wait for me to take pity on you," she gave a little amused smirk.

Offering a sheepish smile, he looked up with half closed eyes, "At least I tip well?"

"Oh yes, because that's why I keep you around," she rolled her eyes and ruffled his hair, "I'll be back in a moment," she spoke, moving back to wash her hands and help a customer, the first of the hour with how late it was. 

Tim watched as she worked, a cute little swish to her step and methodical grace to her hands. It had been seven months since his first time stumbling through the door at some ungodly time of day, seeking anything to keep him alive for the upcoming hours. Marinette, the beautifully sweet darling she was, guided him to a seat and fixed him the most amazingly caffeinated, rich blended coffee he'd ever had in his life and talked quietly with him until the warm concoction had time to hit his system so he wouldn't fall asleep in the meantime. Since then, he'd come to her at least four times every week, occasionally meeting up with her on Sundays, her day off, to catch up and spend some time together without the interruptions of work life. Sometimes it bordered the territory of flirting, but he always pulled back, knowing this was her place of work and refusing to take advantage of the situation, friends or not. And at this point she truly was an amazing friend. One he could trust to listen to him and not judge. To just be there. He just hoped she knew he was there for her as well.

Marinette dropped into the seat across from him, tea in hand and customer gone, ready for their late night conversation to begin.

"Alright, you have your coffee, time to fess up. What Does the elusive zombie do on his birthday? Must've been something exciting to leave you in this state, you're even more dead than usual."

At that, Tim blanked. His.. His birthday? Was that. Was that today? Surely it couldn't be. Last night was Thursday, he had gone on patrol, everyone attended that night, they were out past three and he went home to close up a file. That's why he was so exhausted. Not from some, celebration? That was meant to occur. It couldn't be his birthday then, he would know if it were.

"Tim? You there?"

"It's not my birthday?"

"It's July 19th, isn't it?"

Oh god, it was his birthday. He just stared at her, not knowing how to respond, watching a concerned furrow appear across her brow.

"Did… you forget your birthday?"

"I… I guess?"

"None of your family mentioned it? Surely they knew?"

"Well. No."

"How do you mean?"

"Things normally go a little haywire around this time of year? Someone disappears or gets hurt or kidnapped and I kind of just forget?"

Her eyes only became more concerned and he rushed to reassure her, "It's alright, really. I'm glad to even have them around. My parents were always out of the country when I was little, so I've never really celebrated my birthday anyways," he cringed, realizing how much worse that sounded. And judging by the frustrated, determined look of sympathy on her face, she realized this as well. 

Standing up she made her way over to the door and switched the sign to closed, beginning to clean up the cafe in a quick flurry of movement though the place was nearly spotless already.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," he rushed out, moving to leave.

"Nope. You will stay here. We are celebrating your birthday right now, no if ands or buts."

"No, Mari, I appreciate the thought but I can't get you in trouble with my nonsense, what if you get fired?"

She leveled him with a blank stare, "I'm the owner, so I'm pretty sure we're clear."

He felt a flush flare across his face. How did he not know this? Did he never actually do a background check on her? He looked into everyone he associated with. It was then he noticed her bite her lip in hesitation.

"Unless you're uncomfortable with it? I'm not holding you hostage, I just can't stand the thought of you leaving here without having at least done something for today."

"I'm not, it's fine, but really, it's fine."

"It isn't. Not to me. I want to celebrate your existence," she locked up the front door and cleaned up the table before him before grabbing his hand and leading him through the back and up a set of stairs. Unlocking a door at the top she led him into her home. Honestly the fact she lived above the shop should've been a dead giveaway.

All the while, Tim felt himself in a daze. No one ever remembered. Or at least no one ever mentioned. It was tradition by this point, to let the day pass without notice and yet here she was, acting like it mattered. His mind whirled, letting her drag him over to a sofa and dropping into it as she continued on, returning with a cupcake on a little plate and a small wrapped parcel under her arm.

Seeing his confused look, Marinette fidgeted, a nervous look crossing her features, "I was planning on giving you this regardless of the new development. Though now I'm considering stealing you away from your family. Obviously don't deserve you," she offered him the cupcake only to drop into the seat at his side, hand going to his arm when he took it without reacting.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you. Oh gosh, this was a bad idea, wasn't it? I know we don't really see each other outside of the cafe much so this probably seems like a lot and you just see me as your barista and I fucked up-"

He stared down at the cupcake, only to come out of his daze as her words registered and cut her off, "It's okay, really, you're definitely not just the person who brings me coffee, I swear. Fuck Mari, you're one of my best friends at this point. I just, wasn't expecting this? I don't know how to react."

"You really never celebrated it before?"

"Death dates are more of a tradition in my family," he joked.

"Well that isn't morbid or anything."

"Heh. Yeah.."

"Do you want your present?"

"You really didn't have to get me anything. You're going to regret it when I forget yours."

"I'm pretty sure I'm prepared for that considering you couldn't remember your own. It's fine, I wanted to," she pushed the package into his hands watching eagerly as he slowly tore it open to reveal a pair of black leather gloves, lined with red cashmere. Hand stitched.

"I can't. I can't accept this."

"Of course you can. I asked for your measurements one of the mornings Tam stopped in to apologize on your behalf for not showing up the night before," she giggled.

"I felt bad, I always keep you late and I worried you might've stayed open waiting on me," he defended.

"You know you have my number right? You could've just called. We've hung out outside of work before."

"Says the person who just panicked that I might not even see her as a friend."

"God, we are absolute disasters," she groaned.

"You're a beautiful disaster."

"What?"

He blushed, trying to cover up his slip up, "Thank you. These are wonderful, you made them yourself?"

"Yeah, took longer than I thought they would, honestly," she admitted, hand rubbing the back of her neck.

Feeling himself soften, he pulled her into a hug, gripping her tight, "Thank you. So much. You don't know how much this means to me."

He felt her relax into his hold, holding tightly in return, "Of course. Happy Birthday, Tim."

The words warmed him more than he expected and he couldn't help but tug her closer. Taking a deep breath, he decided to possibly ruin the moment.

"So now that we've established that we're definitely besties, how do you feel about a date?"

[dontasktheradiodemon]

Sands #2 (1/2/2021)

Click here if you’re like “What the heck is this about?”

Valera @autokrates meets Alastor @usedhearts. They hunt fish. I don’t mean “they go fishing,” I mean “they hunt fish.”

At one point Valera uses their Mom Voice on Alastor. It’s super effective.

Valera

Having guests was lovely, but the best part of being back home? The ocean, with all the underwater caverns, the kelp forests, the reefs and coves and crowds of colorful fish to lose yourself in. Valera had well and truly lost track of time goofing off in the water, doing acrobatics and harassing the local wildlife until she was dizzy from it all. But she had obligations, and as wonderful as time to herself was, she wanted to see her company before it got too late.

She turned to the shallows once more, picking up speed and skimming along just under the surface until the last! Possible! Moment! And then she breached, tucking into a somersault and then twisting into one, two, three backflips before landing on the shore, a self satisfied little grin plastered across her face. Still got it. Hmhmhm~

Alastor (@usedhearts)

When Valera lands, there's applause, both real and canned, and even a few whistles.

"What a performance! Simply stunning! How graceful, how dexterous! How powerful!" Alastor called from his spot on his beach blanket. With a red and grey stripped swimsuit, and a pair of small sunglasses replacing his monocle, he looked decidedly different from his usual outfit. But certainly not different enough that one wouldn't recognize the Radio Demon himself.

"I wasn't expecting a show beyond the sultry song of the sea herself, but then there you were, springing for from the water like Aphrodite herself!" He stood and walked over towards them, hands, still gloved, clasped behind his back-- and was he still in his shoes and socks? Yes! Clearly someone didn't plan on going for an actual dip.

"Mademoiselle Valera, isn't it? Pleasure to finally, formally meet you! Alastor, the Radio Demon!" He winked over his sunglasses and moved nearer to give her a playful elbow.

"But you knew that already, didn't you!"

Valera

She really should have expected an audience, with this many people on one island. But it's still a surprise to turn and see the ~feared radio demon himself~ dressed like something out of an old timey picture... Oh gods he was still wearing socks and shoes. Somehow she'd expected as much... But best not to get distracted by that, he was coming in fast and already talking and right right yes, this was a new one, must by Kyxs' boss? Either that or the one Rhedd brought along, but... No, he seemed normal-ish, for an Alastor..

A demure little smile, and she nods. "I'd be hard pressed to mistake you for anyone else, my good man! I take it you've been enjoying your stay so far, judging by your attire?"

Alastor

"Yes! Certainly! Haven't seen an ocean this gorgeous since I was alive, had to get my fill!" He turned toward said ocean, his hand moving in a large arch, taking in the whole of it. "And of course, I couldn't wear my usual out here! The beach is no place for a suit, after all!"

He turned back to her, and gave himself a comical slap on the forehead, the audience laughing as he did. "Oh dear, how rude of me, I haven't made it clear _which_ Radio Demon I am! I'm the one that came with Kyxs! He's my apprentice!"

There was a chorus of 'ooooo's like someone messed up in a sitcom. "OH! And I even forgot to thank you for that gift: the tiny radio! Bee's a darling, she's right here, actually!"

He pulled the teeny radio out of the pocket on his swimsuit chest, cradling her gently in his hand to show Valera.

"Thank you dearly for her, she's a charmer to be sure! No one can look away when she comes out!"

Valera

She covers her mouth with a hand, stifling her amused snort as best she can as he waves around. This Alastor was *very* animated, it almost reminded her of Pentious. "Ah! Yes, of course. I was wondering. I appreciate the speediness of your clarification, my dear, much appreciated!"

Oh, and there's the little darling herself, tiny little Bee! "I'm so glad you like her, she's the sweetest little thing to ever receive a radio wave. And so helpful! Her schematics have been a great help in understanding the transition from the larger compact radios like the Baby Grand, to the pocket radios like *this* little beauty. But that's a lot of technical nonsense, I wont bore you with my prattling."

Though, now that she sees Bee.. "No no, I have something MUCH better for you and yours, my good man!" Give her a moment to reach into her room through the ever convenient portal, there's something somewhere on her worktable... Ah, perfect. Alastor is presented with a tiny bow, fabric dyed to match his classic bow tie.

"So you can match!"

Alastor

His eyes turn to dials, just for a split second when she reveals the bowtie. And then he's gasping! The audience is gasping! Everyone is gasping!

He delicately takes the bow and affixes it to Bee-- somehow it sticks without any sort of adhesive, but that's magic for ya! Alastor holds Bee out, admiring her with her new bow. The audience coos in delight.

"Look! At that! How cute, how adorable! Simply stunning, beautiful, the most charming little radio to ever graces the nine circles! She'll be the talk of the town!!"

Valera

Oh no, oh that was so cute. Look at that itty bitty little radio all dressed up, she could just KICK herself for not making some tiny antlers to match. Next time. But even just a bow was precious, no need to overdo it.

"She looks even better than I imagined! Nobody will be able to resist your little lady now, even the coldest hearts would melt. Make sure nobody tries to steal her away, Alastor!"

Alastor

"Oh, they won't! I'll be sure of that! No one's going to touch this little darling!" He tucked her safely back into his pocket.

"Now, I've been wondering, the sea-- what kinds of seafood do you get from it?"

Valera

She tilts her head to one side, fins exaggerating the gesture.

"What kinds of seafood? Fish, with and without shells. Plants as well, if you're interested in kelp and seaweed. There's a sea serpent in the area too, but I wouldn't consider him food so much as a part of the scenery. If you're craving fresh fish, we've got plenty in the kitchens for you to play with!"

Alastor

"Oh, that sounds delightful! Fresh fish can be so hard to come by in Hell, and to get to experiment with new varieties, well! It's enough to make a chef's heart soaaaaaar!" He belted the note, the sound of birds chirping accompanying him.

"I'll have to make sure to take some when I go, just to have some extra fun with the hotel! But before then, seeing the variety would be scrumptious!"

Valera

"You should try snorkeling. Maybe spearfishing, if you want to try catching them yourself..." She looks him up and down. Perhaps not. "... Or we can package some in live traps for you!"

Alastor

"Live traps! How quaint! I'd love some, certainly, thank you!" He laughed, and as always, the audience joined in.

"I might be persuaded to wade a bit, but going fully underwater isn't my cup of tea. You understand." He tapped his chin. "Spearfishing, though, tell me more about that..."

Valera

Oh good, a subject she can drone about! She claps her hands, giving Alastor her toothiest grin.

"The most basic form of spearfishing is very straightforward. You get your fishing spear, you find a good shoreline, pier, or take a boat out to a school of fish.. And you heft your spear in to skewer your target! If you plan on throwing it, tie a line to the pole! You can put bait or just wait for an opportunity to present itself, people have different methods. There's also *speargun* fishing, where you take, essentially, a crossbow, and do the same thing! Speargun fishing is typically done fully underwater, but I'm sure it would still be serviceable from above. The bolt is pulled back in by the line, the fish is placed wherever you store them, rinse and repeat!"

Alastor

"Oh! That sounds wonderful! Now, I wonder where there would be an experienced spearfisher to show me the ropes!" He pretended to look around before jumping when he 'spotted' Valera.

"Well! You're right here, aren't you! How about we go rummage up some gear and let loose on some fish!"

Valera

"By all means my dear protege, just so long as that fish isn't me! I may be delicious according to select sources, but I'm afraid there's already other Alastors queued up for a go at me!" She sighs, pressing a dainty wrist to her forehead. "Yes, everything from breast to shank. You'll have to take a number, or settle for second best!"

Valera snorts, offers a deep bow, and gestures grandly towards the estate. Weaponry awaits!

Alastor

"Oh, how terrible! Looks like I'll have to wait my turn behind myself!" The audience gave a short boo before swapping to laughter, as Alastor turned towards the estate.

"Let's see the weapons! Can't wait to discover all the secrets of alien weaponry!"

Valera

And off they go, to the estate, and then the armory. The secrets of alien weaponry? Easy! It's magic!

Veci don't have a cultural inclination towards technology, but every member of the species radiates magic the way humans radiate body heat, and they channel it in everything they do. How could electricity compete with that? All things that Valera will happily explain to Alastor when she drops a speargun into his gloved hands.

"I don't know if your magic works the same way, Alastor, but it doesn't matter. I can always charge it for you, and even without magic the gun will function. The magic just lets the bolt go farther, and winds it in automatically."

Alastor

His grin becomes a little manic when the gun is dropped in his hands. He'd never been one for guns, but this!! This was something special! He adored the heft of it and held it up to look down the sights.

"Oh, no worries! Let's see..." His eyes turned to dials and the static picked up, a red glow radiating around his hands. It flowed into the gun and he settled back down.

"Well, look at that, I think it worked!" Alastor laughed, putting it up on his shoulder. "Shall we?"

Valera

A wise man would probably think better than to cheerily hand the big bad radio demon a magic powered speargun designed for maiming fish, especially when said wise man was himself a fish. But Valera never claimed to be wise. Or a man, but that was as debatable as any other gender floating around. No no, Valera grins just as wide as Alastor, her own gun loosely held in a practiced grip.

"We *shall!*" And off they go, to spear helpless fish off the pier.

Alastor

Alastor lets out a cackle filled with static as he followed them-- no audience that time, it was full manic Radio Demon glee!

And down to the pier they travel. He's so excited he's nearly vibrating.

"Now, don't pick on me if I'm a terrible shot-- haven't handled a gun in decades!"

Valera

"I wouldn't *dream* of it, my good deermon. In fact, I should warn you! You'll want to aim low, water refraction likes to make fish look further than they actually are. The first five shots are practice, in my book."

She twirls her gun with a flourish, curling her tail under herself to improvise a seat. How convenient, to be a fish with a tail longer than you are tall. How rich! And now the fun part. A little bait in the form of a chicken thigh tossed off the pier, and watch the fish gather.

"Have at it, Alastor."

Alastor

"Deermon! Ha! Lovely!" He laughed, the audience joining in this time.

Once the bait was in the water and the fish swarming, he took aim, humming a jaunty little diddy to himself as he pulled the trigger....and missed.

Well! Valera did say the first five didn't count! He wound it back and then gestured for her to take a shot.

Valera

She purrs, takes a look down at the water... And spears a fish through the head. She doesn't look very pleased when she reels it in though, huffing as she examines the entry point.

"Hrm. I was *aiming* for the eyes..." Ah well, time to take a bite! Delicious.

Alastor

"Oh! Well, look at you-- and here you had me thinking we'd be trading missed shots for a bit!" He laughed and then aimed again, focusing more intently this time.

Another shot!

......And another miss.

Valera

She glances over, eyes scrunched up in half moons as she tries to look apologetic around a mouthful of fish.

"Oh? Sorry darling, I've been doing this since I grew thumbs! Though if it makes you feel any better, it took me three days of trying before I ever caught my first fish with these tools."

Alastor

His eyes squint in turn, but he's still amused! So that's good.

"Ah, fair enough! Like me with cooking! Been doing that since I could hold a spoon!" He took aim again-- but then blinked, something registering at last and he lowered the gun to turn to her.

"_Grew_ thumbs, you say?"

Valera

Oop, hang on, let her swallow this mouthful. Alright, the fish remnants are dropped on the pier next to them, that can be the next piece of bait when they feel like shooting again. She turns to face Alastor properly, jazz handing with gusto.

"Yeah! Veci like me hatch with our little graspers shaped more like *paws* than anything else. If you were so inclined, you'd still be able to feel the grippy little pads in my fingertips. Think... fish cats? I guess? We've got a hatchling right here in the estate, actually, if you're struggling to visualize what I'm on about."

Alastor

"Paws?" A brow arches as he thinks on that, and then he laughs.

"Oh, that's quite cute. Fish cats...." He snapped his fingers and shouted. "Catfish!" Before bursting into laughter.

"Ah, oh, I crack myself up!"

Valera

She flutters her eyelids, pressing dainty fingertips to her smirking lips.

"Actually, I'm a lionfish, my dear sir."

And then she just starts _cackling_.

Alastor

Oh boy! They're both laughing! And the audience is laughing! It's just a laugh factory around here!

It takes him a GOOD FEW MINUTES to collect his composure, and he wipes tears from his eyes as he does.

"My, my, you are a CARD, my good lady! Or perhaps even a full deck! No wonder you've charmed your way into the hearts of so many of Hell's citizens!"

Valera

Just a couple of clowns standing around with spearguns, laughing their heads off. What could be more normal than this?

Deep breath, she's good. "Thank you, my fine fellow! That's the kindest way I've been called *stacked* yet!" She honest to god slaps her thigh, barking out another laugh before she regains her composure.

"Sorry, sorry. Couldn't resist! I appreciate it, truly. You're a bit of a riot yourself, aren't you Alastor? I suppose I could expect no less from a fellow who knows how to talk a person in circles!"

Alastor

"Oh yes! Comes from working in Raaaadiooooo~" He belts that last word-- he was doing that a lot today! Maybe it was just from being so happy at _not_ being hunkered down for an extinction. Plus sun was good for the skin!

"I've trained a long time to work my way around words as well as a serpent sliding through the surf!" He threw her a wink before hoisting his gun again. He took aim and!!

This time he hit! He laughed excitedly-- with surprisingly little static-- as he pulled it in.

"Well, would you look at that! It's a body shot, but hell, I'll take it!"

Valera

Being out of Hell seems to have perked up a lot of people's moods, she shouldn't be surprised by the extra oomph. She is, but she shouldn't be. But then he turns to try another shot, and she gasps in delight as he hits his mark, clapping as he reels in his first catch.

"Oh! Amazing, only your third shot and you've made a catch! You're a natural, Alastor. What a shot!" Will he be needing a cooler for that fish? Some ice?

Alastor

Nope! Just like her, he takes it off the spear and takes a nice, big chomp out of it. What good was catching your own seafood if you didn't try some fresh out of the ocean?

He hummed and hawed as he chewed, tongue licking his teeth and picking at the spaced between. "How interesting a taste! Familiar, and yet, completely foreign!"

He laughed and then took another bite, letting the audience continue to chuckle for him.

Valera

FINALLY someone around here with STANDARDS. Valera's tail would be wagging, if she wasn't using it to lean on. Her fins will suffice, the little wiggle likely indiscernible from another other twitch to the eyes of an alien. But even so!

"Palatable, I hope! You're doing a grand job, you'll be wiping the floor with me soon enough. Were you a hunter in life, then?"

Alastor

He laughed again! Around his mouthful of fish! He swallowed without chewing much and shrugged.

"Oh, I dabbled here and there. Living in New Orleans, one learns those sorts of things. So much in bayou to make into dinner! Say, have you ever had gator?" His eyes sparkled-- literally, they got big and sparkly as he spoke.

"Ah, one of the things I miss most about living! So hard to get good gator down in Hell, unless it's been a fellow sinner!"

Valera

HAS she had gator? Hrm...

"I might have, but not in many, many years! I'd be happy to bring you some, if you'd be kind enough to share the meal you make out of it! Same with any other seafood you crave. Or crawfish, I never know if they should count as *sea*food..."

Alastor

"Oh, I certainly think so! A proper seafood spread is never finished without a heaping, steaming pile of crawfish!" He laughed. "I'd be more than happy to share some of anything I make! What good is New Orleans cooking if you don't share it?"

He hummed, a low whine turning more high pitched, as he aimed again-- and fired. Oops that one's another miss.

"Dang! Thought I had it!"

Valera

She watches him fire again, eyes narrowing as the bolt misses. Would it be overstepping if she...? Ah, what's it matter. She reaches an arm out, mindful of his personal space as she taps the speargun a hair lower.

"You're doing beautifully, don't worry. You've got this next one in the bag, Alastor."

Alastor

He doesn't say anything when she tilts the gun lower, and even sends a beaming smile her way. And then he aims again, and fires again.....

And another strike! Another body shot, but hey! He was still learning, after all. He reeled it in and removed the spear.

"This one I think, will need some ice!"

Valera

A small matter to drop a cooler and some ice in, presented with a grand flourish to her most esteemed guest. And THEN a round of applause on top of it. He IS doing remarkably well after all, he deserves some feedback for his efforts.

"Fantastic display, Alastor. Five shots, two kills, and all within your first half hour of practice! I couldn't be prouder of my star pupil!"

Alastor

"How long until this thing needs to be recharged, so to speak?" He looked at the gun, inspecting it all over.

"And thank you! I've always picked up things rather quickly-- well, most of the time!"

Valera

"Eh, with shallow waters like these? Ten shots, I think the instructions said? Though I'm not sure how your magic compares, so it could be eight, or twelve." She shrugs. "I barely ever need to charge mine, but to say I radiate magic might be describing it in the way a forest fire might be called a bit toasty, so.. Your mileage may vary."

Alastor

He snorted, and aimed once more-- spearing another fish. He was getting pretty good at this.

"Radiate is about right, I could feel your aura from a mile away! It's so....everywhere here, that it _actually_ took me a while to notice it. Like if you're in the water and don't notice the temperature."

Valera

She grins! Offers him a very loud purr in place of a shoulder bump.

"Oh! You noticed? Nobody had said anything, I wasn't sure if you were sensitive to it or not. Okkylk itself sings with magic! Or, at least the parts where we Veci like to live do. If you go into the mountains, it thins out considerably. The Nir and Artak'in aren't nearly so.... Vibrant, I suppose. And the Pira actually *absorb* magic." Yes, he's totally going to know what all of those things she's saying mean. Absolutely.

..... Cough. "Those are the other species that live on Okkylk."

Alastor

He smiles through it. Be strong, Alastor, be strong for Mother! He laughs and gives her a nod.

"Oh yes, I figured as much! Wouldn't want to meet the ones you said absorb magic-- I run on the stuff, pretty much!" He shrugged and aaaaaimed again. And fired! And missed. Well, you win some, you lose some. He reeled it back in.

"I'm quite magical myself, so I did notice! I suspect my other selves also did, but with the lot of us, who knows! Kyxs may well have noticed too, but he hasn't been practicing his aura sensing much." The audience 'ooooo's and he tsks.

Valera

Oh, hm! Closer, that one was unfair. She'd probably have missed too. Guess she can fire a shot, but she'll be fair and aim for trickier targets... Ough, body shot on that eel. Good enough, into the cooler it goes.

"Tsk tsk! Alastor, you'd better tell that boy to get back to his studies! Can't have him getting himself in trouble with half baked magic, that's worse than no magic at all!"

Alastor

"Yes, I know! I've been giving him a break for the holidays-- stressful time that it is-- but after the extermination, he'll be right back in it!" He laughed and shot again. Another fish and that one was right into the eye! Excellent!

He beamed at Valera as he tossed it into the container.

Valera

She actually cheers when he reels in his new catch, bouncing in place right there on the dock as she claps enthusiastically. He did it! What a shot! What a PERFORMANCE! A perfect display!

"Bravo, Alastor! That was BEAUTIFULLY done! You've got to be pulling my leg, you've done this before, haven't you darling? Either way, that was perfect! I'm in awe, my dear!"

Alastor

He laughs!! Again!! And puts a hand to his chest. "I swear on my dear Mother, that I haven't! Told you, I get things quick!"

He hums and then a song starts playing. _If I can learn to do it, you can learn to do it!_ The song cuts off as quick as it starts, and he chuckles, firing off another shot. And another strike! Not a clean one like before, but still good!

Valera

Not perfect, but more than good enough to bring in dinner. And look, she even gets a snippet from... "Anastasia! A wonderful little film that was, the songs were so lovely. And my goodness, the animation.."

Hmmhmm... She's getting distracted, don't mind the humming.

Alastor

He blinks at that! Well!! "I wasn't expecting you to know songs from Earth!"

He lifts the gun and fires again, and another strike. As he reels it, he figures it's about time to charge it back up, and there his eyes go, all radio dials again and the static picks back up-- and then he's back to normal.

"I find most musicals entertaining! Far more than non-musicals, for certain! And yes, the animation has a charm to it!"

Valera

He wouldn't know! Of course he wouldn't know. She twirls in place, arms opening as she just short of sings.

"Oh, I love Earth musicals! All the works of Gilbert and Sullivan, Mary Poppins, Hello Dolly, Chicago, even a number of animated films! I've seen a spread, and I've found some charm in each of them!"

Alastor

He perks up visibly at that. "Oh! A fish swimming in my own see! How grand!!"

Another song starts up. _Come on, babe. Why don't we paint the town? DADADA BUM BUM And all that jaaaazz!_

He almost forgot he had a gun in his arms, but remember it quickly enough, turning to take aim and fire another shot. Shoot, another miss.

Valera

Good try, Alastor! She leans in, lining her sights up to shoot the fish he'd been going for as it swam away. Not a good shot, by any means, but vengeance is vengeance, can't have that fish telling anyone else that it escaped the radio demon. To the cooler with his catch!

She'll dare go for a hip bump, just enough of a brush that it might have been accidental. Is she humming When You're Good To Mama? She might be, but good luck getting her to admit it.

Alastor

The song cuts off and the audience cheers, and Alastor claps his hand against his gun. "That little thing won't slip out of your grasp!"

When he picks up what she's humming, his frequency shifts and that song starts playing in place of 'All That Jazz'.

"You know! This is practically the theme song of a good friend of mine, whom you've invited here!"

Valera

Dinner and a show, what could be better? She snorts, stepping back into her own personal space bubble.

"I'm familiar! She's a lovely dame, big fan of the work ethic she keeps."

Alastor

"It's true, she never stops that Madame! Always working some angle, networking some connection-- I'd call her ambitious but that'd do her a disservice. She knows what she wants and she grabs it with both hands and four tentacles!" Another bout of canned laughter.

"I've been a loyal patron since she approached me way back when-- never showed her fear, which I applaud!" And there's some canned applause. Alastor lifted the gun again annnnnnd.....boom! Another fish onto the pile. How many did they have, four? Hm, not enough for all the carnivores they had here. He should shoot some more.

Valera

He SHOULD shoot some more. So should Valera, instead of jawing away and flailing around like she is. Silly fish. Back to hunting, then.

"Indeed." Oh, another eel? She aims, then hesitates a moment while she double checks... alright. Not one of her guests, it's safe to shoot. She doubted either Pentious was dumb enough to swim around where there were people spearing fish, but at the same time.. They weren't the most observant, despite the eyes.

"Try not to shoot Sir Pentious, my fine fellow. I don't think he's over here, but I'm sure he's swimming around somewhere."

Alastor

The Audience boos a bit at that but Alastor only laughs. "As your guest, I'll respect your request! Considering that I couldn't be sure which Pentious I was shooting at anyway, it's no skin off my teeth!"

He displayed said teeth in a wide mouthed grin. "Wouldn't want to tag your beau instead of dear little Pentell instead!"

Valera

She misses her next shot, jolting in place as Alastor just TELLS HER SIR PENTIOUS' REAL NAME. The poor speargun doesn't even get a chance to reel in before she drops it, hands flying to her hips as she rounds on her guest. "ALASTOR."

Ooooh Alastoooor she's giving you a look like she's about to get out a wooden spoooooon.

Alastor

That _tone_ has him JUMPING nearly out of his skin. His smile doesn't falter-- eighty years of keeping it up the only thing to save him there-- but his eyes do widen, almost comically. The feeling crawling down his spine is a familiar one, someone who grew up with a strict but loving mother always would get when one did something to earn her ire.

He turned towards Valera, trying to keep his cool as he asked, as nonchalantly as possible: "Yes? What is it?"

Valera

Valera steps in, using the entire two inches of height she has on him for all they're worth. Not to look down at him, just to loom as she lowers her voice to that firm, no nonsense tone.

"Alastor, you know better than that. Why would you go telling business that isn't yours to tell?" Oh, maybe she's being too mean.. Alright, soften that tone up. She's not his *boss* here, she's just the hostess. "I'm not mad, just disappointed. I don't want to make Sir Pentious feel like I've invaded his privacy, but I'm going to have to talk to him about this later."

Alastor

Oh and does she loom. And when she whips out the 'I'm not Mad, I'm Disappointed' line, it's like she just took the speargun and shot him right through his chest. It's only his consummate professionalism and skills as a performer that keep his face static, keep him from giving a hint of ground.

"Ah, yes, my apologies! I often forget myself when speaking about him. Don't mind me and my old mind, sometimes things just fall out out of there! Like blood leaking from sackcloth!" He laughed, but there was noticably more static and reverb to his words. Alastor turned back to the sea, firing off his gun again to spear another fish, as he spoke again.

"Don't worry about Sir Pentious-- or the one that I'm familiar with at least. He's resilient! He bounces back eventually! No one can put him down for good, though many have tried!" Every compliment seems more insult coming from him, where Pentious is concerned.

Valera

Nice try, Alastor. If you were the first she'd met, she'd probably have believed him. But no such luck this time around. She watches him turn away and spear another fish, quietly taking up her speargun to wind it in properly. But then she sets it aside, planting a firm hand on the poor man's shoulder.

"It's not me you need to apologize to, Alastor. Though I do appreciate it, that's very sweet of you." Better to temper her scolding with kindness, it's the only way she's gotten *some* people to listen. "We can come out again later, we should take these back and clean them before any pesky birds show up. I've got scalers in the kitchen. You did a wonderful job catching these!" A pat, and she pulls her hand away. She was already playing a dangerous game by initiating any physical contact at all, so best to keep it brief.

Alastor

There's certainly a shiver when she touches him, but he swallows it down. Don't be weak, don't show it. The show must go on. After reeling his latest catch, he puts it on the ice and props the gun on his shoulder.

"Yes, I think we've got a hefty enough supply! And the cleaning is the best part, after all, I'd be happy to lend a hand!" He wiggled one set of fingers.

"Or two!" Suddenly, his other hand is waving-- without the gun moving from its place on his shoulder-- and then he's back to holding it and all is normal. Including him dodging the bit about apologizing to anyone else.

Valera

Ah, back to business as usual, that's MUCH less tense. Valera snorts at his theatrics, picking up her speargun and laying it over the fish before hefting the cooler up with her tail. Much better than making anyone carry the bulky thing in their arms!

"Much appreciated, my dear. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about my promise! You'll get your fresh fish before you saunter back to Hell. Now lets get these things looking presentable, hm?"

Alastor

"Yes, absolutely! We'll have to see who's the better cleaner, eh?" He laughed and gave her a quick, playful jab with his elbow. Got to show who's the one who gets to touch around here!

Valera

"What, you think you can descale a fish better than another fish can? That's awfully bold of you, I hope you've got the talent to back that claim up, Alastor!" She wont elbow him back, considering she's got spines full of neurotoxins around there, but she will give him the gentlest shoulder bump, barely enough to dent his padding. She's competitive, but not to the point of actually wanting to upset the man.

Alastor

"I think I'll at least put up a fight!" He laughed. "As long as I've been around fish and fish adjacent creatures, I've gotten very good at relieving them of scale and guts!"

Valera

"I can't tell if I should be impressed or intimidated. I'll decide when I see it in action!" She'll stop milking the 'because she's a fish joke', but come on. It's perfect for this.

And off they go, catch and all.

[karla-the-elemental-dreamer]

Response to Question 2

Q2: Pick a Disney World (canon to KH) and write your interaction as if you were subbing in for Sora.

Writing Method: For this question, I am free in my interaction with characters. The Kingdom Hearts universe already knows me; and I am Riku’s dreamer under my lore. (In question 3′s response, they will not know me, and Riku isn’t necessarily my dream guide (does not follow my directed lore)).

Also note: For RPs, my response would obviously be one-sided and I wouldn’t be playing someone else’s character, but because this isn’t a roleplay and just a story; I have to be all characters here. Thanks for understanding.

Answer: --------------------------------------------------------------------

Sora was still trapped in Quadratum, Riku was in Quadratum trying to save Sora, and Kairi was undergoing her keyblade training with Aqua.

Just a short while before Riku left for Quadratum, he was talking to me in a side room of the Mysterious Tower, to make sure I would be okay without him for a bit. As he was asking me if I would be, I said I’d miss him, but then I also twitched my nose at him. “What’s that about?”, he asked, slightly chuckling. “I know what you’re going to do to Kairi. I can smell it”. “What do you mean?”. I answered, “You’re going to make her redundant”. Riku stuttered and stopped me, “It’s not like that”. “Okay maybe I shouldn’t have sounded so harsh; I mean you’re going to tell her she can’t come with you because she’s not strong enough”. Riku blushed and then sighed. “You do know that Quadratum is a dangerous place and I’d be heartbroken if any of my friends or my dreamer didn’t make it back alive”. I bowed my head and nodded. “I guess you have a point. I don’t have to come with you, but I don’t want to be made redundant either”. “What do you have in mind?”, he wondered. “If there is anything I would be able to do back here to ensure that you are always moving forward”. “Well... You are good at connecting with people like Sora is. Tell you what. If any of our Disney friends call for help from other worlds, you can go and help them. But you have to take Donald and Goofy with you”. As much as I was friendly with Donald and Goofy, I wanted to put my own unique spin on situations, but I realised that Riku wanted them with me to protect me. And so I ended up making a compromise. “Would it be okay if I brought the teddies along instead? Just so I’d be able to do things my way”. Riku stopped to think for a bit, his finger on his chin, looking down as he pondered. “I guess that’ll be alright, but don’t you go it alone. I’m going to go to the Fairy Godmother now”. Riku hugged me as he then walked out and shut the door of the room behind him, leaving me sitting on the bed.

About two weeks later, Master Yen Sid had called me up to his chamber as one of the Disney Worlds needed help. “Oh dear, what happened to that place?”. Master Yen Sid responded, “Ursula came back, and she wants to poison all the sea creatures, turning them into heartless. Only Ariel’s grotto is safe as her Father used magic on that place, but then his trident was taken by the already existing heartless, so the rest of Atlantica is under Ursula’s spell, and King Triton was expelled to the human islands, locked away in a cave”.

“Well thankfully I materialised a keyblade about 2 months ago; only using it when I really need to. So I guess this is one time I’ll need to go over there and take out the heartless?”. Master Yen Sid sighed, but quickly composed himself as a wise ancient sorcerer would. “I really wish you would train and become a wielder, but I suppose you have impressed Riku in the past with your unique approach to things, some the guardians never thought possible. However, upon leaving for his journey to rescue Sora, Riku said that you must be guarded”. “I honestly think he’s more anxious because he’s obviously got the fear of Quadratum in his mind; but if I’m treating him as a father figure, then I don’t want to disown him. Thanks to a compromise, he did say I could take my own guards”. Master Yen Sid smiled, “Very good. Go and get those two bears of yours and make it to Atlantica and back safely”.

-- Time Skip --

Upon talking to the two bears for a bit to brief them on the task Selvian and Sierra panicked. “We can’t swim!” yelled Selvian. “Oh, the water’s going to go up my dress”, cried Sierra. Out of frustration, I had face-palmed onto the study desk in the room. “What’s wrong Mistress?”. “Donald and Goofy have the right magic, but they could cramp my style, whereas I’d much rather go with you guys, but you’d just go all sopping soggy and drown”. “I mean you could take us to Master Yen Sid and ask him what to do with us”, suggested Selvian.

-- Time Skip --

Master Yen Sid: “Ah yes, special magic is needed if you are to survive in that place. Go and see Merlin and perhaps he could instil some magic into you, effective for when you enter that realm”.

-- Time Skip --

Merlin: “Oh dash it all! Nothing’s going right today. You and your infernal data program that solved nothing. Confound it all, Cid, that computer might be new, but I can break it again”. Yuffie: “Someone’s knocking”. Merlin yelling from frustration: “Oh just come in already!”.

The door swung wide open as I wondered in with the teddies, my eyes wide, looking like a stunned fish from Merlin’s yelling. “Oh it’s you”, said Merlin in a tone of relief and somewhat excitement. “Did something happen?”, I asked him. “I have just been sitting here, countless hours doing nothing, while the slow loading times of Cid’s nonsense program consumes my system and my patience”. Cid: “Hey it’s not my fault this thing’s not workin’ the way it should.

As Merlin went over to blast some more words at Cid, Aerith approached us and asked what it was that we were in need of. Karla (me): “You see, there’s something going on in one of the Disney worlds that we need to attend to; the underwater world of Atlantica. However, the teddies aren’t built for any magic changes, so if they enter the world unprepared, they could be at risk from dying, or at least suffocating very badly”. Aerith: “I see. While once Merlin’s finished with Cid, I’m sure he could help you guys come up with a way to all make it to that place”. -- Time Skip -- Merlin: “Now let’s see. If you two could come over to the crystal ball with me, I think we need to have a look at your past life and perhaps we can gauge something from that. Sierra: “Past... Life...?”. Merlin: “Yes, if I am not mistaken, you two were humans in your past life”. Sierra: “I didn’t even know we had a past life”. Merlin: “Well of course no one would know, or you wouldn’t live your current life very diligently”. Selvian: “I don’t want to know what I was like in my past life”. Merlin: “Oh it’s not a matter of actions. It’s more a matter of looks so I have some sort of reference with how to make the mermaid magic. Teddy bears can’t have mermaid features in-built into them, but humans can”.

Selvian: “What is he asking us, Mistress?”. Karla (me): “I think you need to be turned into humans when you go into Atlantica”. Both bears screamed, and all of a sudden, went running frantically across the house.

-- Time Skip [Play KH minigame of having to catch the bears and bring them back to Merlin] -- Both bears could no longer afford to scream and were panting from exhaustion, though their hearts still beating fast with crippling anxiety. “Mistress? Are you sure about this? You will never be seen the same way in Riku’s eyes again”. I answered Selvian, “Well nothing’s happening to me now is it?”. He replied, “No, but because of us”. “I doubt Riku would drop me because you just need to act the same way and things will be fine. I do remember him saying that a good friend would see you for who you are, no matter what face you wear”. Merlin: “Exactly, nothing to be afraid about at all. Your young lass knows it all. Now give me a moment as I look into your past existence... Hmm... Let me see here... We have Rajeet Singh, Raj for short, and Toula Koziakis”. Karla (me): “Wait; so I’ll have to call them Raj and Toula?! What is this!?”, as I threw my hands up in the air. Merlin: “Their human names are a necessity in order to keep the integrity of the World Order”.

-- Time Skip (and note: Selvian -> Raj, Sierra -> Toula) --

Karla (me): “Ariel, hi; I hope you’re okay despite all the stuff that’s going on in Atlantica”. Ariel: “Oh, who are you?”. Karla: “I am a visitor from Kingdom Hearts, and I’ve been sent here with a couple of friends because we heard your world was in danger from Ursula and her desire for many heartless inhabitants”. Ariel: “Is Sora here too?”. Karla: “Unfortunately Sora couldn’t make it. You see, he’s trapped in a realm of his own. Somebody else is keeping him prisoner, and so there are friends that are saving him. I am the dreamer of his best friend Riku, and I have been sent, along with my friends Raj and Toula, to help you guys out. Raj and Toula are out fighting the heartless, but they managed to get me into this grotto with some of the magic a wizard Merlin gave them”. Ariel: “What’s your name?”. Karla (me): “Karla”. Ariel: “Oh, well in that case Karla, come to the top and I can tell you everything”. Karla: “But I thought your were living a life with Eric”. Ariel: “As much as I love my Eric, I remember all the times I broke my daddy’s heart, and I realised I missed him, so I came back to stay with him for a while. Only that’s when Ursula came back, and she said that all the inhabitants of the sea were ungrateful, and that she would make all of them obey her and grant false wishes to the humans on the coast”. Karla: “I see, wishes with conditions”.

Karla: “Excuse me for a second”. I swam to the furthest wall and as I placed an ear against it, the sound was amplified, I could hear Raj singing, followed by Ursula. I said to myself, “Raj can sing!?... I mean... He could? In his past life?”. Ariel swam down to join me. “What’s that?”. Karla: “Nothing super important. I just never knew my friend could sing”. Ariel: “Oh, I was certainly impressed when I heard Eric for the first time”. Karla: “Raj isn’t my lover; just one of my friends along with Toula”. Ariel: “Oh well he’s still someone you care about, isn’t he? You remind me a lot of Sora”. Karla: “As much I don’t like bragging, I will say that I have the heart of Sora, but the wit of Riku, so I am half-way between them”. ------------------------------------------------------------- END OF RESPONSE (otherwise this would go on for way too damn long lol. I have a habit of writing long stories. This was initially going to be shorter, but I had so much fun while writing it, hence why I added a lot before the actual Disney interaction scene. The story would have also been a monster without all the time-skips).

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 4: To exist (Part 6)

Warnings: mention of drugs

Author notes: debate about how I depicted Yōko’s condition in the 4th part is opened! More seriously, this is one long part, but I hope you’ll like it. To be honest, that part was the one which made me so nervous about the chapter... Don’t hesitate to give me your opinion! Also, I realised I liked reblogs too! ^^

It was night when I woke up. The first thing I noticed in the darkness was the thing pressed onto my face. An oxygen mask. It was not there before. Had my body tried to give up on me again? After all, I was not supposed to be alive... And Lord was I thirsty. The tips of my fingers moved and I looked for the pager to call the nurse, who fortunately was never far from the infirmary. She turned on a small light and came to the side of my bed. I pointed to the breathing machine.

"Your oxygen saturation suddenly dropped while you were sleeping… Your body still needs to recover from the overdose, after all... Not to mention that nasty pneumonia… Hopefully, you are fine." She explained.

"I..." My voice was husky, but I could talk "What…?"

Morphine overdose…? Pneumonia…? What about my ability…?

"I'll bring you some water." She smiled "You are recovering just fine. Your body is trying to hold on."

I requested to sit up by myself, and slowly raised my back from the mattress to take the cup of water in my shaking hands. Feebly, I brought it to my mouth, and drank, absolutely relishing in the sensation of hydration.

"That's good." She complimented me "You should have some rest now."

"Wait…" I still had some trouble breathing "What exactly… What exactly killed me…?"

"Although it is clear your ability made you suffer, Ogawa-san, the thing that almost took your life today was morphine…" She sighed "And I even told you to be careful…"

"I don't understand…"

"It caused a severe respiratory depression." She explained "It means you could not breathe anymore, which made your oxygen saturation drop tremendously…"

"But… My headache… My fatigue… The pain… The coughing, even…!"

"Muscle pains and intracranial hypertension — your headache — are after effects of morphine. The fact you could not sleep first caused your headache, of course, but also made you weak, which is why you somehow caught pneumonia. That explains the coughing. As I said, we can't deny your ability was highly involved, but all that pain was increased by the drug." She explained "Only, you were never diagnosed because… You would never come for anything other than being stitched up like a ragged cloth…"

"... I see…" I looked down "I see…"

"Ogawa-san…" She took my hand into her "It isn't your fault…"

"No, indeed… I… I was just stupid… I caused this… I'm such a fool…"

Tears fell onto the sheets but I did not mind. All that pain… I had inflicted it myself.

"And… Dazai-san..." I exhaled "Is he... Is he alright...?"

The few words and reactions I could have witnessed when being awake had clearly indicated he did feel some guilt, inside. I did not want him to think it was his fault I was dying; it was all just a mistake I had committed.

"That stubborn child refused to leave..." She sighed "He constantly kept an eye on you and was the first one to notice the drop of your saturation. I... Think this accident made him reflect on himself."

"I don't know..." I looked down, only to finally notice he was still there, asleep with his head on the bed.

"That's only my opinion..." The nurse shrugged "He never let go of you, fearing you would wake up if his ability did not cancel yours."

"It's untrue..." I refused to believe it "He... He doesn't care... He is just putting on an act... As soon as I get better, he will... Again..."

Just imagining him beating me up again was enough to stress me out, and the monitor's rhythm increased with my heartbeat. Waking him up.

"Nurse, there is a —"

He saw me, and did not finish his sentence.

"You must calm down..." The nurse advised, laying me back "We will talk it out after your recovery. For now, you must not be anxious about anything."

"What's the point in recovering if I have to come back after...?" I murmured.

"What's going on...?" My superior looked at the nurse.

"Nothing you should care about for the moment. But, understand her nervousness... And I share her concern. Why are you suddenly nice toward Ogawa-san?" She frowned "It is not my business, but the bruises I wrapped up for her speak for themselves."

"... My hand must have slipped while I was dozing off..." He dodged the matter "I'll cancel your ability again, Ogawa-kun."

"Why...?" I avoided his touch "Why now? Why are you even here? What are you trying to make me believe?"

"... Is that how you see me? A liar...?" He looked upset.

"Not a liar. A puppeteer." I confessed, sincerely terrified "I can't understand what you think... I can only think about your ulterior motives, always, always... I am afraid of being played with..."

"I've never tried to manipulate your feelings to gain your loyalty..." He defended.

"Stop this nonsense, please… Manipulating… You do that all too well…! You do that all the time…"

"Ogawa-kun… Not with you…"

"Why did you praise me so randomly once, just to beat the crap out of me the next day, then?" I started sobbing "I don't understand... Do you just hate me...?"

"I don't hate you...! Obviously I don't hate you..."

"Then, am I too weak...?"

"That's not it..."

The nurse had left, most certainly to let us talk alone.

"What is it, then? Are you just bipolar...?! Or am I insane...?"

"I just wanted to train you... I wanted to make you stronger so you did not die... I honestly never noticed I was the one killing you." Dazai-san lowered his head "It's embarrassing, but I did not know about your pain, about your addiction... Until yesterday. Am I not a useless executive...? Had I done something… Had I done something, perhaps you never would have ended in such a state."

"... Right now..." I gripped onto the sheets "I am not sure whether you are acting or being sincere... I'm sorry, Dazai-san..."

"I don't want you to die!" He said, more willingly "I don't want you to die... Being tough and merciless was the actual act... I wanted you to grow accustomed to the Mafia... I wanted you to cast away your emotions, not to be morally struggling with decisions... I wanted to toughen you up, so you would resist against the enemies, so you would be mentally strong... But the only thing I managed to create was a machine, expert in torture and assassination, who does the job without a glance behind, who sheds blood with no hesitation, who looks down on pain... In a way, I obtained what I wanted, but... It isn't you. It isn't the girl who cried for attention that I first met. When I look at you and see fear, hatred, disgust and resentment in your eyes, I can't help thinking I did something wrong... But I could not understand what... Until you told me you wanted me to kill you. At this moment, I knew that nothing I had attempted with you would work. I've recently come to realise I was only hurting you... Forcefully making you face such violence, trying to mould you into the perfect subordinate... I have to admit it was a mistake. I can't believe I am the one who turned off that flickering yet bright flame of life in your eyes, whereas... Whereas it shone so warmly..."

It was understandable that someone who yearned to end his life would be fascinated by someone willing to live. That I was the one he was drawn to, however, was surprising. His words made me doubt as well. Indeed, since when had I become such a cold-hearted person? Since when had I killed without even a thought for the victim? Since when had I looked so eagerly for the worst methods of torture? I suddenly remembered how reluctant I had been to join the Port Mafia, how I had pretended to prefer dying... Since when had I lost my will to stay alive?

"You always repeat that the weak must die… I am weak, then why won't you let me leave? I questioned, curtly.

"Because... Because I want you to fetch me a cup of coffee, I want you to classify the paperwork for me...!" He sounded like a child about to throw a tantrum "The office... It felt less empty with you inside..."

"Now, you're just being difficult…" I looked away "I want to believe you, Dazai-san, I really want to. However… You've so often changed your mind and I am tired. I can't afford to be deceived anymore… I don't want to be disappointed in someone anymore…"

"... I know..." Dazai-san's eyes focused on his feet "I understand... It leaves an empty hole in your chest, you don't know what to think anymore... I know that... I didn't think I would make you feel that way, nonetheless..."

"You... You understand my point...?" I frowned.

"Of course... People are never what they seem. You, for example, look strong, determined, yet you are so sick you could die at any moment. People tell sweet lies in front of you, yet curse you when you are not looking. I know that..." He chuckled bitterly "Perhaps the problem comes from me... Perhaps am I a failure of a human being, tired of living, but mostly —"

"Afraid of your fellows…" I stared at him, finally understanding "You're afraid of us… And you don't know how to behave around me… That's why you seem so lunatic…"

"Do you hate me for that...? No, such a question... It is obvious you would hate me..."

"I've already told you… There are many people who do that better than me…" I paused to catch my breath "I don't hate you, Dazai-san. In fact, I pity you… And I feel… A bit stupid…"

I had believed Dazai-san was purposely rough and contemptuous toward me, because he did not like me, because I was too weak, because I was worthless. In fact... In fact, whereas he did not like me, he did not loathe me either, and that alone was enough to appease me. There was some place for me by his side, as a subordinate. I could keep serving him, obeying his commands, and he would not mind. If only I would not die... I could have strived to understand the pain gnawing at him from the inside, I could have tried to comprehend his feelings, instead of detesting him as I had done. At the very least, toughening me up had permitted me to survive in the cruel world of darkness the Port Mafia belonged to.

"What you did was undeniably wrong… You can't teach one if you use violence… Hitting me, abusing me, harassing me… Nothing can ever erase this fact… If I cannot forget, then, at least, I can try to forgive. You are the reason I survived so far, and for that I am grateful."

"You shouldn't be grateful that I treated you so brutally..."

"To be honest…" I recalled my time by his side, not without a tinge of bitterness "I really wanted to strive, to be a proper subordinate, worthy of being the protege of the infamous Demon Prodigy's… I guess I wanted to be useful, somehow, for once in my life. I wanted to exist, to be acknowledged as a human being. You did that, though… You treated me as a human being, although it was not ideal. You did not ignore me, at least. Thank you, Dazai-san, for making me feel alive, even if it was short."

"I don't deserve your thanks… But you're welcome…" He avoided my look.

"What are you afraid of? From me, I mean?"

"Huh…?"

"What could I do to harm you? What could I say to hurt you? Scheming against you? You would find out immediately. Talking behind your back? Many people do that. Besides, I've always been honest about you; I can't stand you. Well, I couldn't…" I mumbled "So… Why?"

"Why, indeed… It's not just about you…"

"I know… I'm not asking you to trust me… I just want to know that, if you need a loyal subordinate, you have one."

"Ogawa-kun… You can't mean it, not after everything I've done…"

"Oh but I do mean it. It is my way to redeem myself, too."

"... What do you mean…?"

I avoided his eyes for a moment, strangely unable to face the inquisitive and somewhat hopeful expression he wore. Why did he have to look so childish? So harmless? Although… He had not always acted like a cold adult man… All the times he had bickered with Nakahara-san, all the times he had dropped the mask of toughness to smile at me, even faintly, and that one time he had sounded relieved when I had recovered from the wounds inflicted by Gustavo Cosola… In fact, I had never paid attention to him, despite the warning Oda-san had given me. I did not understand him, nor did I know him. Dazai-san had troubles and I had forgotten that under the armour of the Demon Prodigy was hidden a small, terrified sixteen years old child, who strangely resembled me. Behind a wall of mercilessness, we were just teenagers who had grown up too quickly and had been thrown without concern in a world of adults, forced to become adults ourselves and to carry the immense burden of death upon our shoulders.

"I was too selfish…" I muttered "Too centered on myself. I did not see that it wasn't easy for you either…"

"Ogawa-kun…" He sighed "I have to confess something, since you're honest with me; everything I did was to train you… But I would lie if I said I never took my frustration out on you. On bad days, or only to hide my weakness, I beat you up without caring about your improvement. The light that shone in your eyes… Yes, there were times I wanted to turn it off. How dared you hold onto life? How could you believe in tomorrow? Break, cry, fall into despair or die being worthless, these were my actual thoughts."

"What do you hope to achieve by telling this to me?" I asked simply.

"I wanted to see if you would loathe me, now."

"Dazai-san… I knew all that. I mean, it was obvious you had some stress to let out." I tilted my head "The only thing I really resent you for is not teaching me to control my ability properly… For the rest… Now that I am going to die, anyway, there is no point in holding a grudge against you. I'd rather leave peacefully…"

"But I don't want you to leave…" A sort of pout formed on his lips "I don't want to lose you…"

"Losing me…?" I huffed, amused "I am not a toy for you to play with… I can't be lost. Besides, you merely need me to serve as furniture for your office. I may have given you my loyalty, Dazai-san, but I haven't given up on my pride as a human being. Do remember that, please."

He sighed. Heavily. Was he annoyed? Was he tired of me?

"I am ready to take my responsibilities. Weak people die, but you don't belong to them. You are my subordinate and you know I don't allow my men to be weak." He stood up, crossing his arms "You won't die, because I decided so."

"My body is in no state to fight…" I argued "I have pneumonia and I am a morphine addict. I can't sleep and my immune system has already collapsed a long time ago. What do you expect me to do? Besides, you have another protege… From what I heard, he is much more useful than me."

"I expect you to recover." He faced me, the usual Port Mafia executive replacing the distressed child "And, about Akutagawa-kun… He has no idea what his ability is made for, don't compare the two of you. You two have different strengths."

"But he succeeds where I am powerless." I stated "He —"

"He is a blade without a sheath. I need to control him in order to make him the most powerful ability user of the Port Mafia. When that day comes, he will be, without a doubt, the organisation's greatest asset. For now, however, he is nothing but an untamed dog."

"Dazai-san… You hate dogs…" I remarked, feeling sorry for Akutagawa-kun.

"What you lack in physical strength, you compensate with that." He pressed a finger to my forehead without paying attention to my words "You learnt what I taught you, what I could never teach him. That is why you are a valuable subordinate in my squadron, because I can trust your wit, because I know that you are able to replace me."

"I could never, Dazai-san…!" I protested "I am nowhere near you…!"

"That's right. But you are above the others, and that is all that matters. You can lead in my stead if needed. Mmh, it's actually better to keep you alive." He seemed to think aloud "There are more pros than cons…"

"I am not a tool…" I reminded him, vexed.

"No, you are my subordinate." He agreed.

In his mouth, it did not sound too different…

"Oh~ It could be interesting, giving you Yamada-san's seat…~" He mumbled, walking around the bed in deep thought "But then you couldn't be on the field anymore… What to do~? I want to see that idiot's disappointed face…~"

"What does it matter, anyway? Can I even fight again with that body? Just give me paperwork if all you need is my brain…" I groaned.

"You will fight again." He declared "Why couldn't you? Just rest and take your treatment. It is a matter of time before you are physically back on your feet, anyway. And give up on morphine; I'll grant you sleep from now on."

"Dazai-san!" I burst, unable to hold it in any longer "Did… Did you even pay attention when we were talking…? Were you even sincere…?!"

His fist hit the wall, suddenly, and I jumped in fear. I had given him my loyalty, I had been honest with him… Had he manipulated me again…? He did not move. His back was toward me. I was about to say something when a small detail caught my attention. His hand, the one that had punched the wall, was trembling. He let it fall to his side.

"You must be useful…" He hissed between his teeth "I have to find some use in you, even while you are recovering…"

The bandage covering his skin was slowly reddening as he muttered incoherent words and I sighed. I understood, although too late again.

"There is… There is a position I can occupy, even in this bed…" I spoke, breaking the uncomfortable silence "If my presence serves a purpose, the Port Mafia won't need to get rid of me."

"What is it…?" He slowly turned around.

"I believe a lieutenant is still missing in your squadron, Dazai-san. Until I recover, I could lead the men from afar and take care of lower missions for you. Then, once I am better and able to fight, I can accompany them directly." I suggested "Besides, it will drastically decrease your paperwork… Which is at your advantage, isn't it?"

I cracked a small smile and waited for his response. He really did not want me to die, that I was sure of. However, the organisation did not care about damaged goods. If I did not prove myself to be more than a disposable pawn, an order to abandon me would be given, forcing my superior to either eliminate me or let me rot somewhere. In both cases, I would die.

"A lieutenant… It is true that I don't have that." He held his chin a second "Very well, I shall promote you. After all, I never got to reward you properly for your contribution to the fight against the Sicilian Mafia."

He gave me an understanding smirk, and I nodded, accepting the offer.

"Thank you, Dazai-san. I will strive not to disappoint you."

"Good. Take a week off for your initial recovery, then I will send the first piles of paperwork to you."

"Thank you for your consideration."

"Also… Odasaku may or may not visit you later… I remember he knows a cheap yet clean place not far from the headquarters." He added, heading toward the door "Ask him about it, I'm sure he'll be glad to answer you. Dust is bad for your lungs."

I chuckled once he exited the infirmary, and laid back on the bed. There I was, alive, already impatient to discover the paperwork he had promised. It was a good feeling, breathing, even if I still felt uncomfortable. I did not want to die anymore. There were still things I needed to do and a superior somehow counting on me. I could not let him down… And I wanted to see the sun set on Yokohama once again.

It was wonderful to exist again.

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[ineffablegame]

For the prompt thing "I'll carry you if i have to!"

Also published on my Ao3.  

Hours after the crucifixion, Crowley sits on the edge of a potter’s field with no memory of how she got there.  The dirt is baking-hot beneath her, the dying sunlight a suffocating weight on her shoulders. She is scorched through and through, but still her heart is a cold stone in her breast.

Crowley stares out across the field.  A vast, lifeless expanse of dirt and dead grass, unloved and unmourned.  Thirty silver pieces purchased this plot: the price of one man’s lifeblood.  One man hangs dead from a cross and another hangs dead from a tree, and this godforsaken spit of land is all that’s left between them.

Crowley grits her teeth, throat tight, eyes stinging.  She has not yet surrendered to weeping, not after Sodom and Gomorrah, not after the Flood.  She will not surrender now.

A presence feathers across the edges of her senses: a light, gossamer brush.  “There you are.  I thought I had lost you.”

Crowley shakes her head.  “Go away, angel.”

“Crowley.”  Softly, kindly.  Tenderly carving her apart.  “Where will you go now?”

I don’t know, she thinks.  Maybe I won’t go anywhere.  Maybe I’ll sit here until my body returns to the dirt.  Join all those poor fools in the field.  

“Crowley.”

“Angel.”  A rasping scrape of sound.  “Leave me be.”

Aziraphale is silent for a long moment.  Then, just when Crowley thinks he may have gone, his fingers brush her shoulder.  She stiffens. “Aziraphale.  Don't.”

“You shouldn't be alone right now,” Aziraphale says.  “Please.  I… I have a room at an inn.  Come with me.”

Crowley wants to snap and cut and cast him off, but the weight smothers her words.  She is inert, limp and cast into deep waters, and the touch on her shoulder is a lifeline just within reach.

Crowley doesn’t know what she wants – to hold on with all her might, or to let the line slip through her fingers.  Let herself sink.

Perhaps Aziraphale senses her indecision, for, with a hearty dose of no-nonsense briskness, he says, “I will carry you, you know.  If I have to.”

She tries to laugh, really she does, but it comes out raw.  Lifting her head, she pushes back her hair and swallows past the threat of tears.  It’s this weak body, she thinks, this mortal shell with its hammering heart and salt-choked throat.  She hates it.

“Right,” she manages.  “We don’t want you embarrassing yourself, after all.”

The barest hint of a smile.  “That’s the spirit.”

Crowley follows the angel away from the potter’s field, but still it lingers in her mind.  The dusty odor of grave dirt.  The stalks of grass, brittle as desiccated bones.

They go to a small, quiet inn on the outskirts of Jerusalem, passing strangers unseen and unremarked.  Aziraphale ushers Crowley into a stuffy room – scarcely bigger than a broom cupboard – and closes the door.  A candle lights at a flick of his fingers.  He leads her to a little cot and sits, patting the spot beside him. His voice is gentle but firm.  “Lie down.  You look wretched.”

Under normal circumstances, Crowley might have made a joke, but she cannot dredge up the energy.  She sits. The weight is still upon her, deadening her to the world.

A memory comes to her, unbidden – a man who lived and died hundreds of years ago. A man whose strength was shorn by the woman he loved.  The candlelight dances orange and yellow across Aziraphale’s still face, his unblinking stare.  

The weight is pushing Crowley down, crushing her.  She can’t breathe – you don’t need to breathe, you blighted fool – and suddenly her shoulders are shaking, sobs clawing up from deep in her chest, and her vision blurs, and she is weeping for the first time since the world began.  Her lungs are full of water and she is drowning.

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale murmurs.  His arms are around her, keeping her in one piece.  “Dear girl, dear girl…”

He says little else until her tears are spent, until she has sobbed herself into exhaustion.  When she is done, she miracles a pair of shears into a trembling hand.  The metal gleams in the yellow light as she offers it to Aziraphale.

The angel’s fingers are gentle as they run through her hair, nails rasping faintly on her scalp.  With each snip of the shears, a hank falls away.  The weight eases.  Snip.  A silver piece tumbles upwards, back into a Pharisee’s hand.  Snip.  A rope slithers off a tree branch. Snip.  A bloody nail falls, a wound knits together.  Snip.  Aziraphale is slow and methodical.  Reverential. His thumb brushes the shell of Crowley’s ear.

“There,” the angel says.  The candle has burned down low.

Crowley straightens and touches a hand to the nape of her—no, his neck.  He shivers.  “You forget how it feels,” he says, feeling Aziraphale’s gaze on him.

“It’s a bit of a botched job,” Aziraphale says, apologetic.

“It’ll do.”

“Stay here tonight.”  Aziraphale fiddles absentmindedly with a coil of red hair.  “You needn’t be alone.”

Later, in the dark, he asks, “Where will you go?”

Crowley knows where he’s meant to go – Hell has bound him for Rome, but he has no stomach for the Colosseum, the lions rending prisoners for sport.  Be kind to each other.  What a laugh.  “Dunno.  Maybe Germania.  I can foment unrest among the beserkers.”

Aziraphale hums, but the careful aversion of his gaze is eloquent enough. You’re running away, you old serpent.  “Just as well.  I would take care if I were you.  The Romans will be there soon enough.”

Crowley makes no response.  For hours, he tries to sleep, but he cannot quiet his thoughts.  When dawn stretches the first pale rays of light over Jerusalem, Crowley gives up and rises without a sound.  He goes to the door.

“Be careful,” Aziraphale murmurs, softly.  So softly it might have been a sigh of the wind outside.  Crowley hesitates for the briefest moment before opening the door and slipping out.

There are whispers, later, rumors that penetrate even the wild pine forests of Germania.

Jesus of Nazareth has come back to life.  

No, his Apostles stole the body to fool people into thinking he had returned.  

He is alive.  

He is dead.

He is gone.

Crowley brushes each aside and tempts the beserkers to wrath, felling Roman soldiers like wheat beneath the scythe.

And then, a whisper:  An angel rolled away the stone in front of the tomb, then sat on it.  

Of all the rumors, Crowley believes that one without a shadow of doubt.  It’s such a little thing, really, but it’s so plainly Aziraphale that it must be true. Of all the angels in Heaven, only one would carry out an impressive feat and then cock it up so completely by squandering it.

Crowley can practically hear Aziraphale wheezing as he plops down on the stone.  “I’ll be with you in just a moment, dear ladies, I only need to catch my breath…”

Deep in the harsh, pitiless wilds of an untamed land, Crowley laughs for what feels the first time in millennia.  He runs a finger through his close-cropped hair.  His heart is light.

[astoriias]

{ cisgender woman, she/her } ❝ Thank god women learned to whisper / though I crave a megaphone. ❞ huh, who’s CAITRIONA BALFE? no, you’re mistaken, that’s actually ASTORIA MALFOY (NEÉ GREENGRASS). she is a 47 year old PUREBLOOD witch who is CHIEF WARLOCK OF THE WIZENGAMOT. she is known for being JUDGEMENTAL, DISHONEST, COLD, RIGID, and CALLOUS but also PRACTICAL, DRIVEN, INNOVATIVE, STEADFAST and DISCIPLINED, so that must be why she always reminds me of the song TOMORROW - MINER and BLACK LEATHER BRIEFCASES, THE CLICK OF HIGH HEELS ON TILE FLOORS, THE LINGERING TASTE OF FAIRY FLOSS, BURGUNDY NAIL POLISH, AND PEARL HAIR PINS. i hear she is aligned with NO ONE so be sure to keep an eye on her. 

BIO

Cursed with a blood malediction that left her and her parents preoccupied with maintaining her health throughout early childhood, Astoria grew up without direction, without passion, and without much to do or think about other than staying alive. She did what she was told and completed what was asked of her by her parents: mostly swallowing thick potions that made her head spin and remaining in bed when all she wanted to do was tumble through the lush gardens of the Greengrass estate and scrape her knees like other children. As she grew older and defied Healers’ expectations — making it past 5, then 10, then 15 — Astoria grew weary of the half-life she’d been prescribed. At Hogwarts, she followed her sister Daphne into Slytherin because she didn’t know where else to go. 

It took Astoria almost a year at Hogwarts before she would speak up in class or acknowledge anyone with more than a handful of words — and each time she did her heartbeat would quicken, her face would flush. If she was called on by a professor and — Merlin forbid — got the answer wrong, her eyes would fill with tears, her gaze would shift to the floor, and she wouldn’t be able to breathe. One day, outside her second-year Transfiguration class, an annoying boy named Colin saw her heavy breathing and told her about panic attacks — Astoria’s irrational fear of social situations and new people now made sense.

That same annoying boy became her close friend not long after. It was a month into study sessions by the Black Lake that Astoria Greengrass learned that her Colin, the boy who kept a camera slung around his neck at all times and was so nice to her, was Colin Creevey, yes, that Colin Creevey, who was petrified by a Basilisk a year prior for being MUGGLEBORN. Astoria found that didn’t bother her very much. Sure, she never advertised that they were friends and didn’t freely associate with Colin in public places, but he understood her position or in the very least, didn’t protest it. She even got him to join Herbology club — though she insisted that they enter and exit the greenhouse at different times and never spoke directly, his presence was a comforting balm.

Colin tried to get her to join up with the student resistance that was brewing in her third year — but Astoria knew she wasn’t the type to stir up such trouble. She couldn’t stand with the muggleborns and blood traitors no matter how right they were; she couldn’t risk losing her family. Unlike those in Dumbledore’s Army, Astoria didn’t see this conflict in terms of black and white, good vs. evil — there were plenty of others like her, struggling to find themselves in the midst of conflict, battling tradition and family expectations. She kept out of Umbridge’s way during that time. Kept out of her father’s way during that time — while he had no Dark Mark to speak of, his entrepreneurial hands passed cursed objects and ingredients for poisons to any Dark Lord-aligned wix who wanted them.

Through her friendship with Colin and her time in Herbology Club, Astoria learned she was a talented witch in her own right. Formed an identity outside of being the sick girl everyone doted on. Quietly realized that her muggleborn classmates  — despite what her pureblood indoctrination taught her — were fully-fledged human beings. To someone who didn’t grow up feeling trapped in the (sometimes socially constructed) confines of a blood illness, perhaps her time in Herbology Club wouldn’t seem so transformative. But for Astoria, it was everything.

Nowadays, Astoria is still defying life expectancy estimations and is perhaps best known for her robust political career. She joined the Ministry as a pupil/intern in its Wizengamot Instruction in Magical Law Program (W.I.M.P.), and in the span of twenty-five years has climbed the ranks to barrister’s assistant, barrister, then Wizengamot member, and finally, the youngest Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot in the last hundred years. She is extremely opinionated about the runnings of the legislature and judiciary, and her past two years as Chief Warlock have been marked by her love for procedure, due process, and fairness -- essentially meaning trials are very thorough and very focused on making sure the Ministry doesn’t overstep its bounds. 

BLOOD MALEDICTION

i’m truly on my bullshit and this needs its own section..........,,,,, i’m sorry

I originally started writing Astoria out of pure spite — it enraged and continues to enrage me that all we’re given about this woman is a few lines about her and an off-page (or off-stage, I guess, but Cursed Child is its own beast) death. It makes me mad that she is only defined by her role as a mother and wife to Scorpius and Draco, that she doesn’t get her own ambitions and a life of her own. The racist and sexist underpinnings of the blood malediction/Maledictus concept are par the course for JK but still, bad!

And while I can’t choose for Astoria to have this particular chronic illness and completely divorce it from those origins, I can at least eschew parts of it I don’t like and give a Astoria a rich and fulfilling life with a chronic/potentially terminal illness — not in spite of the blood curse, but because those of us with illnesses and disabilities are people with rich and fulfilling lives, wants, desires, and ambitions.

AN IMPORTANT NOTE:  I try to be really careful about ableist language when I describe this blood malediction and its effects on Astoria’s life — I think that there is so much to explore regarding chronic illness and what, exactly, we constitute as ‘health’ — but I know that I can fall into the traps of my own internalized ableism. If there are terms or concepts here that make players uncomfortable and/or have harmful effects, let me know! I’m happy to make changes.

So anyway!

— origins of the blood malediction

I don’t have this fully worked out, but I think the Greengrass blood malediction stretches back a good ten generations to a very vindictive-in-her-righteous-cause-Muggleborn-witch cursing the family for their refusal to let her marry their son. It’s not limited to just the girls in the family, because I hate that, but it does affect at least one child per generation, so long as the family continues to marry exclusively purebloods — which they have continued to do, not knowing that their bigotry (though in some cases, real love!) is the reason for the curse’s spread. Astoria’s parents mistakenly believed that since the last few cases of the curse had cropped up in different branches of the Greengrass family — distant cousins living on the Continent — that their children would be spared.

— astoria’s symptoms and treatment

Since it’s a blood curse, I figure Astoria’s symptoms manifest as issues both with her blood and with her cardiovascular system at large. I’d compare it to haemophilia. Her blood itself is thin and cannot clot without healing spells and thickening potions, meaning that nosebleeds are frequent, bruising is easy, and bad cuts can be fatal. She’s at high risk for internal bleeding in her joints, and  a big — though often unvoiced fear — of hers is a brain aneurysm that ruptures into a haemorrhage.

(miscarriage tw) These symptoms have waxed and waned her entire life, with particular incidents that have brought her close to death; an accident falling from the garden wall at five, a wayward spell hitting her across the face in second-year DADA, trying for a child. She doesn’t regret that last one — not at all — though it was five weeks after her miscarriage before she was able to stand unassisted, and her Healer’s face when she said “I strongly advise you to not have any more children” haunts her to this day. Scorpius’s birth, possible due to a wonderful surrogate, was alternatively the happiest day of her life. (end miscarriage tw)

Then there come the potions — a barrage of them, to be taken at specific times of day, with extras if she’s bleeding externally or feeling pain in particular areas — that come with side effects like exhaustion, headaches, and nausea. She visits St. Mungo’s once every three months to ensure that the potions are working as intended and has learned to accept her Healers chastising her for the times she skips parts of the regimen or pushes herself too far physically.

PERSONALITY

astoria!!! my love. clearly i have a lot of thoughts and Feelings about her lol,,,,,,,

there isn’t any world or timeline in which astoria would be rushing to join the death eaters -- lol, i’ve always envisioned her being extremely inquisitive and Critical of other people, their motivations, their methods -- this makes her extremely Good at Lawyering and Suspicious of Bullshit. i also have always thought that it was important for her to make a muggleborn friend or two just to really hammer the point home that pureblood nonsense is just that.

still, again, she’s not really motivated by niceness, she doesn’t have a bleeding-heart-sense-of-empathy, she’s kind of snarky and mean. her friends describe her as an acquired taste. 

has a massive sweet tooth. her family is regularly concerned she does not eat enough vegetables.

adores her son. just, absolutely thinks he can do no wrong. she and draco agree that most parents think their child is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, but scorpius actually is the most perfect and amazing child in the world, so. 

a note on astoria and draco: i think draco doesn’t treat her with pity or kid gloves, and has never underestimated her capacity to get shit done in light of her blood curse. and they have an honesty and rapport with each other that astoria hasn’t been able to cultivate with anyone else. they may not be very great people but they’re great partners and great parents. i luv them ok bye

STATS

GENERAL

name. astoria céline malfoy (née greengrass)

nickname. aster (reserved for use by her sister only!)

birthdate. 1 january 1982

place of birth. greengrass residence via midwifery

family. daphne greengrass (sister), draco malfoy (husband), scorpius malfoy (son)

residence. malfoy manor, wiltshire

occupation. chief warlock of the wizengamot

gender identity. woman

romantic orientation. biromantic

sexuality. bisexual

blood status. pureblood

relationship status. married

pets. a scottish terrier named hades

HOGWARTS / MAGIC

house. slytherin

extracurriculars/leadership. herbology club

allegiance. neutral/no one

n.e.w.t. grades charms (o), transfiguration (o), herbology (o), d.a.d.a (a), potions (a), arithmancy, astronomy (o), history of magic (a), ancient runes (e).

wand. willow, nine inches, unicorn hair core

boggart. tbd

patronus. also tbd! my brain hurts 

magical strengths. nonverbal casting, herbology, transfiguration, ancient runes

magical weaknesses. flying, defensive spells, domestic spells