#iris is unflappable

[screamingatanemptyroom]

The Switched Princess pt 3

I actually wrote part 3, guys, hope you enjoy!

Part 1 and part 2 linked.

______________________________

“You look beautiful today!”

Princess Theodora turned around at the sound of her fiancé, Prince Corwin, who had entered the sitting area while she was distracted. He was a classically handsome young man. His light blue eyes focused solely on her, and his strong features were arranged in an affectionate grin. Theodora smiled back, and then looked down at her clothes.

She was wearing a blue gown, similar to the color of her fiance's eyes. It was one of her favorites, with intricate silver embellishments and folds in the skirts, highlighting the best aspects of her figure. She had always felt beautiful in this dress, and normally a compliment from Corwin would have just solidified an already good mood.

If she hadn’t seen Iris in a blue gown today as well.

When the other young woman had arrived for breakfast, Theodora had been stunned. She had seen the paintings of the former Queen, and always thought that she had to be the most gorgeous woman in this world. But her daughter… her real daughter… had surpassed her, leaving a terrible bitter feeling in Theodora’s heart at the sight.

She should be ugly. She thought to herself. Small, timid and worn from a cruel world.  Instead, she’s confident, poised and mature, unfazed by wealth or etiquette.

Theodora gritted her teeth. It’s not enough that she’s identical to HER… does she have to have the same personality as well? She thought she was rid of the person she hated the most, but the more she saw Iris…

And she chose the name Iris… even though she said it was because she sold flowers, but…why... why did it have to be the name IRIS?

She brooded over the name.

“Theo!” Corwin’s bright voice broke her increasingly dark thoughts. “I got you something!”

He handed her a small glass figurine, a carefully carved flower. She noted that it was beautiful, but not worth any money, and suppressed her disappointment with a cheerful smile. “Thank you! It’s lovely!”

Despite her efforts, he must have sensed a difference in her tone, and asked with a look of concern. “What’s wrong? Is it that adopted child your father brought over?”

Theodora’s eyes looked down, her eyelashes hiding the dark light in her gaze, at his words. She has told Corwin that her father had chosen to adopt a poor child of a faithful servant. He had believed her without question. At the time she had been relieved, but now hearing his words…. She regretted it.

She turned away from him, keep her voice low and sad. “How could that be? I feel nothing but pity for the poor girl. She hasn’t adjusted yet, so I can’t take her words or actions personally.” Theo chose her words carefully, and her eyes flashed with satisfaction as he picked up on the implied meaning behind them.

“Wait! What do you mean 'words or actions'? What has she done?” He reached out and patted her head. “You are too kind for your own good, Theo. Just tell me if you are bullied, and I will take care of it for you. Don’t get your hands dirty.”

“She doesn’t mean it…”

“She should know her place.” He snorted, dismissing her persuading words. “A fake adopted princess trying to upstage the real thing? Trash will always be rotten, no matter how you try to dress it up, but true gold shines even in the worst situations.”

“…” How ironic that he's trying to comfort me with those words. Iris stayed silent, and Corwin must have taken it for discomfort with his speaking poorly of another person.

“I know you feel bad for her…” He patted her head, not knowing that every word he spoke was stabbing her like a knife. “But don’t worry. She could never take your place. You are a princess. The TRUE princess. And soon in the future, we will get married and you will be by my side as a queen.”

Theodora reached out and hugged Corwin, her voice tearful. “I can’t wait.” It's the only way for me to escape this closing trap.

He held her tightly, smiling. “It won’t be much longer, dear. Soon you will awaken your Royal Magic, and when the Flower of Peace blooms, our wedding can be held!”

Stepping back from his embrace, Theodora frowned. “The Flower of Peace? From the treaty? I know that its written there, but we can’t possibly be waiting for a silly flower…”

“It’s not a silly flower.” Corwin’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. “It’s a historical international symbol. A gift of peace between countries. For Estin and Komish, it is an essential of our cooperation. The seeds are native to the neighboring country of Akarnor, in fields that are just across the border, just south of the palace where I grew up.” He smiled slightly, as if remembering. “They are incredibly rare, and difficult to keep the sprouts alive. Only the royal family is allowed to care for them. One of my favorite childhood memories is learning to care for the seeds.”

“Corwin…”

“And of course, in the Estin Royal family, the women descendants are born with the power to grow plants, the only power strong enough to allow the flower of peace to bloom.” He hugged her gently. “Every generation we have come together to bloom the flower. It will last for 50 years and then die, requiring the next generation to take up the mantle. “

“But… I don’t…” Theodora started to protest, but Corwin gently shushed her.

“I know you haven’t awakened the power yet, but as the daughter to the king, you are the one who will awaken the Royal magic. You just turned eighteen so you should be starting to feel it fairly soon.” His smile widened. “And then, once you bloom the flower, the treaty allows us to marry! Generations of waiting for the right time will be fulfilled through us!"

Seeing Corwin’s excitement, Theodora felt a tightness in her chest. She opened her mouth several times, but in the end, closed it silently. She couldn’t bring herself to tell Corwin the truth: that she would never awaken the royal magic… she wasn’t a blood related member of the royal family.  Part of her hoped that he wouldn’t care. That he would take the news calmly, and assure her that he loved her all the same.

But deep in her heart, the dark suspicions lingered. That Corwin liked PRINCESS Theodora and not just simply Theo. That once the truth was revealed, he would abandon her. And not just him… her brothers, her father… the rest of the nobility. She was standing on a precipice, needing only one wrong word in one wrong ear to push her over the edge into despair and obscurity.

“Theo?”

But that day is not today. She told herself firmly, turning to face her fiancé with a bright smile. She looked every inch the innocent girl who was trying to be brave despite difficulties. The exact kind of look that Corwin would eat right up. However, even though the outer shell she presented was flawless, the inside was rotten, disgusting.

She just had to keep it hidden.

______________________________

Iris was frustrated.

She stared at the flower in front of her, and she swore it was staring back defiantly. It was a rare breed of flower, a temperamental little weakling that seemed to want to die with even the slightest change in environment.

Iris had gotten the seedlings off of a sobbing merchant, who had failed to grow them multiple times, wasting hundreds of gold pieces with each bad attempt. He was so relieved to be rid of them, he hadn’t cared that she had paid a tiny fraction of what they were worth.

But even that little money was causing Iris some regret now.

The small, stumpy flower was the last living specimen from that deal… and it refused to grow. Iris swore under her breath, frustrated. It was being grown with magic! Was that still not good enough for this stupid flower? She reached out with her hand, making sure not to touch it (having learned the hard way that touching it in the growth period could cause instant death). Her power extended beyond her hand, gently enriching the soil and water the plant fed from. For a moment it seemed to perk up, giving Iris a sense of satisfaction… before wilting again, as if barely hanging on to life.

“Stupid plant. I should let you die.” She muttered, staring intensely at the wilted leaves.

“I’m curious, Princess. Do you think the flower can hear you?” An amused voice spoke up, causing her to turn, stunned. Iris felt she was fairly observant, a holdover from growing up in an unsafe environment. It was rare for someone to successfully sneak up on her. As she saw the culprit, she sighed quietly.  

Mage Vicente smiled harmlessly, seemingly unperturbed by her unwelcoming expression. “Having struggles with this flower, Your Highness?”

“I wouldn’t call it a flower.” Iris replied, turning back towards the object in question.

“What would you call it then?”

“A soul sucking nightmare.”

The answer must have been unsuspected, as the mage burst into laughter. Shoulders shaking, he looked at the flower as well, his eyebrows raising at the sight of its pitiful state. “That bad, huh?”

“This is without a doubt the worst plant I’ve ever tried to care for.  It needs something… but I just don’t know what.”

“Hmm.” He studied the flower more closely, a small sense of recognition flaring within in gaze, a strange helpless look crossing his face. “I think you are correct, Your Highness. This flower does seem to need some additional care.”

Iris shook her head at the flower, missing the expressions of the man next to her. “Too bad I don’t know what it needs.” So much for being a flower expert.

“… Would you mind if I tried to take care of it?” Mage Vicente, now completely calm, pointed and asked gently. “I’m happy to compensate you if I fail.”

Startled, Iris stood up and quickly gathered a wooden box to place the potted plant into it, along with a stack of papers which included her observations and prior failures. She moved quickly, almost worried that he might change his mind. “I don’t know what your plans are, but don’t worry about compensation. I’m out of ideas anyways.” She passed the box over to the mage, who reached out and took it, his hands cold to the touch as they made contact with her own over the transfer. She retracted her hands quickly, feeling a bit flushed.

Must be too warm here in the greenhouse.

“Thank you for your trust.” Vicente smiled, the look transforming his handsome face. “I’ll return it once it has been cared for.”

“…You’re welcome.” Iris straightened up, feeling stiff from maintaining her position so long as she had fussed over the stubborn plant. Hearing the chime of bells outside she sighed quietly. “That’s the noon bell. I need to change to be ready in time for the castle tea party.” Anthony had mentioned it several times already, hoping that she could get in touch with other young women of the nobility.

“You should make friends!”  He had told her with a smile. “Even better to do it now before we announce your identity. You can feel more confident in their genuineness, instead of being nice to you because you are royalty.”

Iris had felt almost amused at his confident assumption that her identity would EVER be officially announced, but appreciated his care and concern either way. Unexcited about the prospect of another dress change, but knowing she couldn’t delay further, Iris turned and smiled politely at Mage Vicente.

“Thank you for your time… and good luck with the flower.”

Mage Vicente chuckled. “It was my pleasure, Princess Iris.” His smile stayed in place until she had left the greenhouse, leaving him alone with the temperamental flower. As the sound of her footsteps faded into silence, his face slowly drained of expression. Vicente stayed frozen in place, his eyes coldly watching the flower sitting in the box in his hands.

“How mysterious fate is.” He muttered, taking a deep breath. “I never thought to see you again, or to have your care placed once again in my hands.” His eyes looked past the flower, seeming lost in thought. “For that matter, I never thought I would volunteer…” Vicente’s voice trailed off, but he shook his head slowly, seeming to shake the gloomy atmosphere around him.

“Oh look, it’s Mage Vicente!” A delicate voice called out as the greenhouse door opened behind him. Three young ladies, dressed in complicated tea party attire, filed in, watching the handsome young mage with wide, eager eyes. Rose, the daughter of a duke, and the young lady who had spoken up initially, stepped closer, her two friends hanging behind, giggling.

Mage Vicente straightened up, his mysterious and cold atmosphere shrouding around him, his face stony and unreadable. Even the delicate flower sitting in the box did little to offset his unapproachable air. “Lady Gillad” His voice was bland and uninterested, but the lady in question still blushed a bright pink at his words.

“I’m so happy to run into you! I have a question about a magic formula, and I’ve been unable to figure it out.” She leaned forward, almost falling over when he stepped back to avoid being close to her. Catching herself, she blinked rapidly, small tears forming in her eyes as she looked up at the taller man, a pitiful and longing expression on her face. “Can I arrange to meet and discuss my question… privately?” The implication in her question was obvious, but the target of it was unmoved.

“If you have a question regarding magic, I am afraid that I am unworthy to attend to it.  I would recommend bringing it to the Grand Mage’s attention.”

Irritation flashed in Rose’s eyes. “But you are the next in line to be the Grand Mage! Why can’t you do it?”

“I apologize, but I cannot.” His tone made it clear that whether or not he actually could, he had no interest.  He bowed politely to the group. “Excuse me, I must go.” He left in the silence, not turning back despite the strong gaze that stayed on him until he was out of their sight.

Rose stood in place in the now quiet greenhouse, her fists clenched tightly beside her. Her two friends seemed unsure of how to comfort her, and stayed silent.

“A mere mage should be honored by my interest.” Rose muttered, her eyes still staring angrily at the empty space where the mage had been. “He will come to regret his decision, and beg me to reconsider him.”

“That’s right!”

“He’s crazy to not recognize his good fortune of having captured your eye!”

Relaxing at the fervent agreement of her companions, she smiled and left the space, the glass door slamming behind them.

______________________________

I knew this party was a mistake.

Iris stood in place at the entrance to the garden, feeling the strong gazes from all of the young women present. If she hadn’t had memories from her dreams standing strong under scrutiny from large groups of people, she felt she would have crumbled under the pressure already. Straightening her posture, Iris let out a small sigh, putting a professional smile on her face and she prepared to respond.

As for how she had gotten to this point….

When Iris had initially arrived, Iris immediately realized that she had been told the wrong time for the party’s start. Looking at the set ups on the various tables, the tea party should have started about 20-30 minutes prior. I should have known not to trust any information given to me. She sighed quietly. This was obviously planned for me to show up late. The only question is, what are they planning to do next? Surely it’s not just to cause me some mild inconvenience…

“Sister, you finally arrived!” Theodora stood up, her face lighting up with delight as she rushed towards her.

Ahh, there it is. Iris felt no joy in being proven right immediately.

Theodora came to a stop right next to her, reaching out to grab Iris’s hands in a tight grip as her fake smile widened. Iris’s skin crawled at the contact, and she gently freed her hands.

“Sister, are you still angry with me?” Theodora’s eyes filled with tears. She took out a handkerchief covered in frills and dabbed her face. Looking around at the shocked faces of the party guests, she continued, as if trying to explain. “It’s my fault, everyone. My sister was brought back to the castle recently, and she hasn’t adjusted yet. Having grown up in such a harsh environment on the streets, she is perfectly in her rights to hate me, who has had so much love and care.”

She spoke in a tone of speaking up for Iris, but her words said a great deal to the crowd. Iris had the title of sister to the princess, but had grown up on the streets. She could be an adopted child, but it made little sense for the king to make such a move with a fully grown young woman. The conclusion that many would come to was that Iris was a bastard, an illegitimate child of the king to someone besides the beloved former queen.  Given the popularity of the queen, this would definitely spark some resentment towards Iris. No one would guess the actual truth, that it was Iris who was the true princess.

I wonder if my dear father knows of his precious daughter’s plans. Iris thought, amused. She’s implying that he cheated on my mother, which will ruin his reputation as a loving husband that he has always cultivated. She silently looked forward to the new rumors reaching the king’s ears.

But in the meantime, she had to deal with the mess her “sister” had just dropped into her lap.

Her professional smile firmly in place, Iris took the cloth from Theodora’s hands and gently wiped the other’s face. “Sweet Theodora, how could I EVER hate you? You are such a joy to be around, and I have nothing but appreciation for how welcoming you have been to me despite the… circumstances of our meeting.”

She could say outright now that they had been switched, that her real identity was princess Theodora and the current Theodora was a fake. Part of her wanted to say it, just to see the chaos, but she knew that it wasn’t the right time. No one would believe her, and it would be easier for her father and Dominic to cover things up as false rumors and lies.

So instead, Iris leaned into Theodora’s narrative. Speaking just vaguely enough to possibly confirm the worst of the rumors, while never telling an actual lie. As for those that knew the actual story… She looked over at Theodora, whose face was pale with fear.

She must be worried that I will reveal the truth. Iris thought, amused.

“N-No! I was so happy to finally meet you!” Theodora stammered, speaking quickly to stop Iris from speaking further. “I’m glad that you don’t hate me…”

“Hate you! Nothing could be further from the truth!” With a gentle smile, Iris reached out and hugged the stiff, uncomfortable princess, looking for all the world like an innocent young woman happy to see a friend. “I’m so grateful to finally be home with my family.”

Theodora was frozen. Iris kept her harmless look, but inwardly was rolling with laughter. That’s what you get for going head-to-head with an actress in fooling a crowd.   She turned to the group of young women with a pleasantly surprised look.

“Hello everyone! I’m Princess Iris, Theodora’s sister! I’m so sorry I am late, I must have misheard the servant when she told me that the party would start at half past the noon bell!” She noticed the women giving each other side glances at that statement, obviously realizing she had been set up. “As my sister already said, I did not grow up in the castle here.  So now that I am reunited with my family, I hope that you will forgive any small errors I may make in my adjustment to life here.”

There were more murmurs in the crowd. Iris’ smile widened, and she patted the still frozen Theodora on the shoulder.  “My sister has told me how lovely you all are, so I look forward to becoming friends! Let’s resume the party!”

At her words, with a few more odd glances exchanged, the young women dispersed and sat back down at their tables. Iris looked around, and realized that her place was in the back of the garden, where there were fewer tables. As she walked closer, it became clear this was for the “lesser” noble ladies, their dresses less intricate, their jewelry made of silver rather than gold, the gems smaller and less ostentatious.

Another ploy by my dearest “sister.” To try to make me feel inferior. Humiliate and embarrass me. And of course preventing me from making any significant relationships with anyone in power.

Iris didn’t care about any of it. The mind games, the manipulations, the social maneuvers. None of it mattered. Because no matter how much Theodora schemed, how much she fought and lied and tried to trap her… She couldn’t change the simple truth:

Iris was the real princess.

That truth was the ticking time bomb that was sitting on top of the house of cards the king, Dominic and Theodora were desperately trying to hold up. In the story from Iris’ dream, she had forgotten that simple truth, and tried to play her games, tried to scheme and win by Theodora’s rules.

And that had caused her to lose.

Iris wasn’t about to repeat that mistake.

She sat down at her table with a bright smile and the ladies already seated. “Hello there!” Her eyes were calm, without a hint of embarrassment. “I’m Princess Iris.”

[howifeltabouthim]

But a faint humorous gleam in his eye declared both that he realized the magnitude of his indiscretion and that he did not care.

Iris Murdoch, from A Fairly Honourable Defeat

[oopsiedaisydeer]

𝘥𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘮?

ɪɴ ᴡʜɪᴄʜ…20ᴛʜᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀʏɢɪʀʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴏɴᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀᴍ

Unfortunately for Iris, Y/n had no classes with Matt. Fortunately for Iris, Y/n had perfect visibility of him in P.E. class while she was upstairs in History every Thursday during the period before lunch.

Glancing down, she watches a particularly average game of soccer being played, and yet, she shoots out of her chair when she sees Matt being tripped up by another guy. Chris immediately rushes over, and he helps Matt up, the latter hobbling from the impact to his knee. Knowing what she must do, but also acting on pure instinct and camaraderie, she clutches her stomach. Her male teacher pales in the face as soon as she mentions her “cramps” and quickly ushers her out of the classroom.

Once in the nurse’s office, her eyes immediately flick to Matt sitting on one of the beds, propping his knee up. He looks uncomfortable, but not seriously injured. She’d just hang around, act casual, and hope he didn’t notice her too much. It wouldn’t be hard. Right? If anyone had the chance to overhear anything about him and his interests, it was going to be her. For Iris’s sake, of course.

The nurse isn’t there, so she leans against the wall by the door, pretending to be in pain, but really just observing the scene unfolding before her.

“Hey,” Matt murmurs, his fingers absently drumming on the side of the bed. “I, I was thinking maybe I’ll try the newspaper thing. Could be interesting, right?”

Her heartbeat increases. She hadn’t expected Matt to bring up joining a club at all, much less suggest it himself.

Chris glances up at him, clearly surprised. “No way. You? A club? Thought you’d be the last guy to go for that.”

Matt shrugs, looking somewhat conflicted but also intrigued. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about writing lately. Maybe it’d be good for me. I could write about sports stuff, or whatever. It’s just...I don’t know...I mean, I’ve never really been the ‘join a club’ type, but it could be interesting, right?”

Chris chuckles. “Dude, you won’t know until you try. Besides, if you do it, I might just have to tag along. You know, for photo stuff.”

Matt looks over at Chris, raising an eyebrow. “Photo stuff?”

“Yeah, man. I was thinking about giving it a shot. I don’t know anything about photography, but it could be fun, right?”

Matt grins, the nervousness seeming to lift from his shoulders. “You? A photographer? That would be a sight to see.”

Chris shrugs nonchalantly. “Hey, don’t knock it until you try it. Besides, cameras seem pretty cool.”

Matt stays silent for a moment, mulling it over, and then lets out a sigh. “I guess... I guess I’ll show up for the first meeting tomorrow. It can’t hurt, right? I’ll just go and see what it’s like.”

Y/n watches from her spot near the door, the cogs in her brain turning. Matt was actually considering it. He’d decided to try something new out. This was good. She'd made it this far, and if he actually went through with it, she might have the opportunity to learn more about him. For Iris’s sake, once again.

She quietly slips out of the nurse’s office. He was going to show up tomorrow. She had to be ready, so she prepared a quick mental backstory for why she was joining, in case anyone asked. The fact that her real answer was because of a guy filled her with disgust, but she quickly recovered by reminding herself this was for Iris.

The next day, when she arrives at the trial session for the school newspaper, she sees Matt. He’s hesitant, shifting from foot to foot, looking out of place but still there. Chris, ever aloof, stands beside him, seemingly lost in thought. Y/n keeps her distance, observing Matt from across the room. 

The room is filled with a small handful of unfamiliar faces, some eager and others clearly unsure about why they’d even shown up. A senior, a girl with an unflappable sense of enthusiasm, stands in front, claps her hands together to grab everyone's attention.

"Alright! Hey, everyone! So glad to see you all here for the first meeting of the year. Let’s go around in a circle and introduce ourselves and share what you’re interested in doing for the paper. Don’t be shy!"

She grimaces inwardly. She really wasn’t here to talk, but she doesn’t have much of a choice. As the introductions begin, she’s relieved that everyone else seems equally unsure about what they’re doing. When it’s her turn, she stands up straight and fakes an eager smile, not wanting to reveal how she’d rather be...well, not here.

“Hi, I’m Y/n,” she says, her voice steady. “I’m mostly just here to figure out what this is all about. I’d like to maybe do interviews, or whatever. I’ll see how it goes.”

She sits back down, trying to make herself as small as possible. The next few people share their interests, some more enthusiastic than others. Then it’s Chris’s turn. He stands up, hands shoved in his pockets, leaning casually against the desk.

“Chris. I’m here to try my hand at photography. I don’t know much about it yet, but I thought I’d give it a shot.”

A few people nod, but Y/n notices that Matt is still looking down, fidgeting with his hands. When it’s his turn, he hesitates before standing up. His voice is soft, almost unsure.

“I’m Matt,” he starts, glancing briefly at Chris. “I... I think I want to join to write about sports and culture, maybe. But... I doubt I’d be any good at it. I’ll just... see what the first meeting’s like.”

There’s a moment of silence as he sits down, and then Matt shifts uncomfortably, clearly looking for a way out. His gaze darts around the room, and the tension is palpable. She watches him closely, her mind racing with how she might use this opportunity for Iris.

After a couple of minutes of the senior girl rambling on, Matt whispers to Chris, who nods but doesn’t look at him. He stands and gives a half-hearted glance at Chris before quietly heading for the door, determined not to make a big deal of his exit. Chris turns inconspicuously to gaze at the door after his brother leaves.

She switches her focus to Chris, scrutinising him. He seems unfazed by Matt’s sudden exit. He leans back in his chair, as if this is all just another normal day.

“Well,” she mutters to herself, “that went well.”

Once the introductions are finished, the teacher goes over the basic logistics of the paper and asks everyone to pair up for future assignments. She hands out slips of paper with names written on them.

Y/n looks down at her slip and finds that she’s paired with Chris. She raises an eyebrow, not believing her luck, after all, what’s closer to Matt than his brother? The room empties out, and she sees Chris heading for the door. She hesitates for a moment, then follows him, determined to at least try to talk to him, to make the most out of them working together. For Iris’s sake.

“Hey, uh, Chris?” she calls out, catching up to him as he walks through the hallway.

He glances over his shoulder, eyebrow raised. “What’s up?”

“I guess we’re partners?” she attempts to say enthusiastically, but the words come out more uncertain than she intended. She stops in front of him, feeling the awkwardness of the situation. “Guess we're stuck together? I mean, it’s fine, I just—uh, I wanted to introduce myself again and just make sure we were on the same page.”

Chris shrugs, his expression not changing much. “Yeah, I guess we are.” He looks her over briefly, his gaze drifting somewhere else, distracted by something further down the hallway. 

Y/n nods, doing her best to get the conversation back on track. “I was thinking we could plan out our first assignment. Maybe split up some of the tasks? I can handle the research—”

Chris cuts her off, sounding bored. “I don’t know, okay I’ll just take care of the photos. Or whatever.”

She stares at him for a second, unsure how to push the conversation further. That’s it? Just like that? Guess he wasn’t in the mood to talk.

This wasn’t going how she planned. Maybe she was too eager. Or maybe it was just...

“Well,” she says, “I’ll see you around.”

Chris glances at her, an almost unreadable expression on his face. “Yeah. Sure.”

He turns and walks off, leaving her standing there, feeling like she’d just failed at some sort of social exchange. Whatever. She wasn’t gonna chase after him. She sighs, heading in the opposite direction. Maybe this is all there was to it. Matt couldn’t even bother sticking to it, and now Chris was giving her…nothing.

It felt like a waste of time, chasing this Sturniolo guy around. Then again, it wasn’t about her, not really. It was all for Iris. And yet, somehow she found herself questioning how much effort was too much, and how much of it was for nothing.

creds to @bernardsbendystraws 4 da dividers mwah

a/n: woah matt's arrived. and so has chris. dk how i feel tbh.

taglist: @snoopychris @chrissweetheart @sturnsrecord @sturns-mermaid @slxt4chriss @blushsturns comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist!

till next time!!

[chicgeekgirl89]

Chapter 7: Getting Naut-i

Thanks to @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut and @carlos-in-glasses for the Seven Sentence Sunday tags. I'm going to raise you the penultimate chapter of Come Sail Away instead! Tagging @lemonlyman-dotcom, @bonheur-cafe, and @ladytessa74 if you'd like to share some sentences with us! Also thanks to @lemonlyman-dotcom for the title inspiration on this one!

Read on AO3

“Ma’am, I promise you. No one on this boat would steal your diamond earrings,” Nancy says calmly. “I’m sure they’ve just been misplaced.”

Everything about her seems serene and unflappable, but T.K. knows that under the surface she is calling this woman a thousand terrible things, and rightfully so. This group of guests was supposed to be off the boat thirty minutes ago, but they’re still here. And now they’re accusing the crew of theft. A parting blow to what has been an absolutely exhausting charter.

From the second Frank King and the rest of his party stepped onboard they’d demanded. Drinks. Food. Water toys. More drinks. Food. Drinks again. Their late night partying went on into the wee hours of the morning every night and the boat was always a disaster by the time they finally retired. 

Frank sent his food back at least once a meal, claiming the beef was overcooked, the sauce too salty, the soup not hot enough, one thing after another after another. At least two of the women made repeated aggressive passes at Paul, to the point that Judd had switched the whole schedule to move him onto night watch and keep him as far away from their guests’ grabby hands as possible.

Frank’s niece, a woman fresh off her twenty-first birthday had gotten so drunk one night that she’d tried to jump off the boat and then been so ill they’d had to call a doctor onboard.

So needless to say, the Firebug crew is done. They want these people gone. But Frank’s wife is missing her diamond earrings and apparently nobody’s leaving until they’re found.

“I SAW HIM!” Delilah King is screaming at Nancy, a finger pointed straight at T.K. “He was in my room every day of this trip!”

“Yes ma’am, because that’s his job,” Nancy says, her tone finally taking on a bit of a biting edge. “If you’d just move out of the way we’d be happy to help you find your earrings and finish packing.”

“I don’t want a single one of you touching my things!” Delilah tells her, her voice shrill. “I want him to confess and tell me where they are right now or I will sue all of your asses!”

“Ma’am, I promise you, I did not touch your earrings,” T.K. says for the fifth time since this debacle began twenty minutes ago. “I never even saw them.”

“I put them on the nightstand every single night and they are not there!” Delilah says. “If it wasn’t you, then it was someone else! You’ve got Mexi—“

“Ooh, I recommend you don’t finish that sentence.” Tommy strides down the hallway, her voice steel, eyes hard. “I will not have you harassing my crew and making racist comments. Not on my boat. I am going to give you two options. Option one: you go sit upstairs in the salon while we do a thorough search of your room and belongings to find the earrings. Option two: I call the harbor police and have you escorted off immediately. Which would you like it to be?”

Delilah’s mouth snaps shut and she glares at all of them. “I want you to find my damn earrings,” she finally says.

“Excellent. Nancy, T.K., and Iris will start searching immediately. We’ll give them fifteen minutes. If they still haven’t found them, then we will discuss our options after that. Now go on upstairs and hopefully we’ll have good news for you soon.”

Delilah turns and stomps away down the hall. Tommy waits until she’s out of earshot then drops her voice low. “I hope to god you can find those earrings because I need this woman off my boat as fast as humanly possible.”

“Copy that Cap,” Nancy says, exhaustion on her face as the three of them head into the primary cabin to try and find the stupid diamonds. 

“I don’t understand why people get so obsessed with diamonds anyway,” Iris says as she starts shaking out pillowcases. “They’re just shiny rocks. And most of them are obtained by people with horrendous working conditions.”

“Yeah well, Delilah doesn’t really seem to care about anybody’s working conditions, does she?” Nancy says as she yanks open drawer after drawer, running her hands along the sides and bottoms.

T.K. is only semi-listening as he sorts through Delilah’s make-up bag, which takes up an entire half of one of her three suitcases. Her skincare routine must take hours.

This charter was brutal and he wants it over now. Being accused of theft is the rotten cherry on top, even if no one onboard would ever actually believe him capable of stealing. All he wants is to get back into his bunk, preferably with Carlos on top of him, and forget this charter ever happened. 

Aside from this charter, their last three weeks together have been perfect. Carlos is sweet and kind and so freaking good in bed it blows T.K.’s mind, among other things. He has no regrets about hearing Carlos out and offering him forgiveness. In fact, he can barely remember how he made it through life before Carlos Reyes swept into the Firebug’s galley and stole his heart.

There’s a flash of sparkles as T.K. opens yet another pocket. “Is this them?” He holds up two glittering studs.

Nancy holds out her hand and he drops them into her palm for inspection. “Has to be, right? Unless this lady’s got more than one pair of diamonds?”

T.K. shrugs. He wouldn’t be surprised. The Franks seem to have more money than God. 

Nancy closes her fingers around them securely. “I’ll take them up to her. Unless you’d like to do the honors?”

“No thanks. If I never see Delilah again it will be too soon,” he tells her.

“Great. Then you two can stay here and repack all of her belongings. I give you full permission to do it as shittily as humanly possible without causing any permanent damage.”

One of the things that makes Nancy a great chief stew is that she’s not above a minor amount of pettiness when called for. Iris and T.K. both grin at her and then delight in shoving all of Delilah’s possessions back into her three suitcases in the most chaotic manner possible.

“So,” Iris says as T.K. tosses her one Louboutin to put in the large suitcase while he shoves the other into a side pocket of the small. “What the hell kind of kinky shit were you and Carlos doing this morning that required ice?”

Carlos had told T.K. that Iris was aware of their burgeoning relationship, and she’d been nothing but supportive, helping them keep it quiet from the rest of the crew as they explored their feelings for each other. 

“There was a slight accident,” T.K. tells her, biting back a laugh. 

Things had gotten rather enthusiastic before breakfast service and resulted in Carlos smacking his head into the underside of the top bunk so hard that he’d seen stars, putting a swift end to their sexual escapades. T.K. had immediately pulled on a pair of boxers so he could run and grab some ice for the giant goose egg forming on Carlos’ head. He hadn’t realized Iris had seen him rushing into the galley. 

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” she asks skeptically.

“I’m serious,” T.K. says with a laugh.

“Okay. Whatever. I’m glad you guys are happy. He deserves to be with someone good. So do you.” She stops packing and looks him dead in the eye. “But if you hurt him, I will chop you into pieces and feed you to a shark.”

The thing about Iris is that you can never quite tell if she’s serious or joking. T.K. decides to err on the side of caution. “I won’t,” he says. It’s barely been a month, but somehow it feels like he’s been waiting for Carlos his entire life. He doesn’t want to do anything that would push him away.

They finish the packing and then call Marjan and Mateo to help them drag the bags out to the dock. They join the line-up with the rest of the crew to bid the guests farewell. Delilah doesn’t thank them at all, instead choosing to head straight off the boat without a word. Her husband laughs and throws out a joke of an apology before handing Tommy a very thin looking tip envelope and then heading down the passarelle.

“And good riddance,” Paul mutters under his breath, the rest of the crew murmuring in agreement like they’re responding to a pastor during a Sunday sermon.

“Let’s all say a little prayer that our next charter is a bit more relaxed,” Tommy tells them. “First round of drinks is on me tonight, all right?”

That gets a more enthusiastic response and then the group breaks up to go change and start the never-ending process of turning the boat over. T.K. follows Carlos to their cabin, and the second the door is shut Carlos reaches for him, concerned eyes searching his face. “Are you okay?” he asks. “I heard what happened with Delilah. It sounded like it was rough.”

T.K. sighs and lets himself sink into the safety of Carlos’ arms. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just exhausted. It sucks, you know? To put in so much work and then be accused of theft. Like all the hours we gave them meant absolutely nothing.”

“I know,” Carlos says, rubbing a hand slowly up and down T.K.’s arm. “Tommy knows too, right? She doesn’t think—“

T.K. shakes his head. “She knows. It’s not an issue of trust on the boat. It just sucked. That charter sucked and those people suck and I hope I never have to see them again.”

He lets his head drop into Carlos’ chest, breathing in his scent and letting himself be comforted by the weight and warmth of Carlos’ body against his own. Carlos' arms wrap around him and he presses a kiss against the crown of T.K.’s head. It’s so wonderful and soft and…

“I don’t want to go out tonight with the crew,” he says his voice muffled in Carlos’ shirt. “I want to stay here. Alone with you.”

“We can do that,” Carlos says. “I don’t need to go out.”

“Then everybody’s going to know we’re together,” T.K. says, still buried in his shirt.

There’s a brief silence and then, “I think…I think I’m okay if they know,” Carlos says carefully. 

T.K. lifts his head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t trying to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

“I know,” Carlos says. “But this crew is so different from my last boat. You were right. It feels like a family. And if they’re your family, they’re going to be okay with us. Right?”

“They’re your family too,” T.K. says softly, eyes searching Carlos for any sign that he’s freaking out. “I promise they’ll be supportive.”

Carlos nods, determination on his face. “Then let’s stay here.”

It melts T.K., the softness, the joy of his needs and desires being met. He’s told Carlos a lot over the past few weeks about New York, about his addiction, the relapses, the break up with Alex, and the subsequent overdose. It’s come out in the moments between the kissing and the sex, the quiet parts where they’re just breathing, sharing the same space. He’s not sure why he feels so safe with Carlos, comfortable enough to share those dark moments with him, but the way Carlos listens and cares for him has proven that he’s worthy of T.K.’s trust and adoration. 

So hours later, when the work of the day is done and everyone is showered and dressed in their best, T.K. takes Carlos’ hand and leads him out into the crew mess. Everyone else is already there, the weight of the past charter melting off as they laugh and joke and drink together. 

“Is that what you’re wearing out?” Iris asks, eyeing T.K.’s joggers and t-shirt critically.

“Actually,” T.K. links his fingers with Carlos’, “we’re going to stay here tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence and then Marjan snaps her fingers. “Pay up Mateo, you owe me fifty bucks.”

“No, I said they would get together before the end of the charter,” Mateo shoots back. “It’s after thecharter. And they haven’t even officially said they’re together!”

“They don’t need to say it, look at ‘em!” Judd says. “They’re holding hands. Ain’t nothin’ in this life ever made me want to hold somebody else’s hand other than being romantic.”

“They’ve been together for three weeks,” Iris says, smiling smugly that she has information the rest of the crew hasn’t been privy to.

“See? Hand it over,” Marjan says, wiggling her fingers expectantly.

Mateo grumbles under his breath as he fishes for his wallet.

“You had a bet going?” T.K. asks, a little surprised. He’d thought they were doing a pretty good job of keeping their PDA to their cabin.

“You two have been making googly eyes at each other ever since Carlos got here,” Paul says with a roll of his own. “It was only a matter of time.”

“We’re just glad the two of you are bunking together,” Judd says. “You can keep whatever you got going on in there away from the rest of us.”

T.K. laughs and watches as Carlos blushes in embarrassment. “Yeah and FYI, T.K. is your responsibility now Carlos,” Nancy says. “I’m not sure if you know yet how much nonsense this dude can get up to, but it’s a lot. Iris and I are out. He’s all yours.”

“I’ll…do my best?” Carlos says, looking slightly confused.

“All right, that’s enough,” Tommy says with a smile. “We’re going to be late. Let’s get a move on.”

The groups rises and starts to head up the stairs, all of them with shit eating grins on their faces, a few making whistles and snide little remarks as they go by. T.K. actually shoves Paul when he walks past because he looks so annoyingly pleased that T.K. and Carlos have been found out. Tommy is the last to go. “Congratulations boys” she says. “I trust this won’t interfere with our daily operations?”

“No ma’am,” Carlos says immediately and T.K. nods his head in agreement.

“I didn’t think so. Enjoy your evening.” She takes a step up and then pauses. “And just a reminder that Dave is staying behind to watch the bridge. So keep any um, activities,” she looks right at them, eyes twinkling, “behind closed doors unless you want an audience.”

Carlos turns red instantly and T.K. has to hold his breath to keep from laughing as he stammers out a reassurance to Tommy that they will be the picture of decorum.

“Oh my god,” Carlos says as soon as they’re gone, collapsing into a seat at the crew mess table and burying his face in his hands. “I take it back, I care that they know.”

T.K. laughs again and steps toward him, putting his hands on Carlos’s shoulders. “They’re brutal, but it’s all out of love.”

Carlos looks up at him. “You didn’t prepare me well enough for that.”

“I didn’t realize that was my job,” T.K. says, eyes shining with mirth.

“What exactly do they mean that you’re my responsibility now?” Carlos asks curiously. “What ‘nonsense’ are they talking about?”

“No idea,” T.K. says innocently. He’ll mention the multiple comas, the near drowning, and the sinking of the tender boat another day. “Should we order a pizza?”

“Or…”

“Or…what?” T.K. asks.

“Or we could make pizza.”

“Or,” T.K. counters, “you could make pizza and I’ll watch.”

“Nope.” Carlos stands and grabs his hand, tugging him along toward the galley. “If we’re making pizza, you’re helping.”

They put on music and dance around the galley, singing along badly as Carlos pulls together ingredients for crust and sauce. It takes way longer than ordering a pizza would, but it’s ten times better. It’s silly and fun and there’s so much kissing and touching that by the time the oven timer buzzes T.K. is thinking a lot less about food and a whole lot more about just getting Carlos into bed as fast as he can.

The pizza is delicious. Carlos apologizes that it’s not better and says that with a pizza oven and different ingredients he can really make it incredible, but T.K. tells him to shut up, that it’s perfect, and they end up eating the entire thing.

They clean up after and then T.K. persuades Carlos to take a dip in the hot tub. They do a fast change into swim trunks (Dave is watching after all, there will be no skinny dipping tonight) and then climb the stairs to the top deck where the hot tub sits open and inviting beneath the streaky pink hues of the setting sun.

T.K. climbs in first and then watches as Carlos sits down across from him. “This is really nice,” Carlos says, sinking up to his shoulders in the warm water. “A hot tub with a view.”

The way his eyes lock on T.K.’s make it clear he’s not just talking about the sunset and T.K. feels a jolt of pleasure at being the focus of Carlos’ attention. “It’s pretty amazing on this side of things too,” he says as Carlos sits up a little, water glistening on the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen.

They sit in the quiet for a few minutes, listening to the early evening sounds of the marina, the sky slowly darkening around them, the stars and the moon appearing out of nowhere, dotting the night with their brightness.

“Do you still feel good?” T.K. finally asks, the question that’s been sitting in his chest for the last few hours. “That the crew knows we’re…”

He’s not sure how to label them, not sure what they actually are other than romantic roommates. “That we’re what?” Carlos asks. 

“I don’t know,” T.K. says, mulling it over. “More than roommates?”

“Definitely more than roommates,” Carlos says. “What do you want us to be?”

“Carlos I—“ The words he wants to say stick in his throat. He’s not sure how to express what’s going on inside him. “I think you’re amazing,” he finally says.

Carlos’ face breaks into a beautiful smile. “I think you’re amazing too.” He takes a beat and says, “We don’t have to put a label on it. I know things with Alex ended badly. I don’t need us to be put into some kind of box. I just want there to be an us.”

They’re the words T.K. needed to hear, even though he didn’t realize it. He moves forward through the water so he can sit next to Carlos. “I want us too,” he says, his voice breaking a little. “I want it so much.”

“Good,” Carlos says. “Then that’s what we’ll be. Just us.”

He can’t take it anymore. He reaches out, cupping Carlos’ face in his hands, thumb gently playing with his earlobe before he draws Carlos to him, lips meeting in a kiss that has become blissfully familiar in the last few weeks.

It takes about three seconds for Carlos to open up to him, lips and tongue and teeth and all, his own hands finding T.K.’s thighs under the water, scooping him up as if he weighs nothing and then hauling him sideways into his lap for better access. Everything is wet and warm and T.K. delights in how easily his hands slip and slide over the muscles of Carlos’ back.

He shivers when Carlos’ teeth sink into the shell of his ear and then glide down his neck, his tongue rough and slick against T.K.’s skin, tasting him again and again until T.K. can barely remember his own name. 

Things are happening below the water line, bathing suits hiding very little at this point and T.K. makes a pathetic sound when Carlos pulls back, everything in his body screaming for more. “We need to go below deck,” Carlos says, his eyes dark and full of lust in a way that makes T.K. uncertain they’ll make it all the way there. “There are things I want to do with you that Dave shouldn’t see.”

They towel off quickly, neither of them fully dry as they stumble their way across the deck leaving wet footprints on the teak in their wake. They only make it as far as the privacy of the stairs before Carlos pins him against the wall, his body clearly ready for anything T.K. wants, kissing him and rutting their hips together until T.K. is whimpering into his mouth.

Neither of them is aware of the water pooling around their feet from their dripping bathing suits until they almost slip down the stairs and die. One of Carlos’ arms slams into the wall with bruising force, the other wraps solidly around T.K.’s waist, saving them both. “Why is sex with you always so dangerous?” he asks, breathless, half laughing, half still terrified from their near disaster.

“Do you want to stop?” T.K. asks.

“Not even a little.”

T.K. grabs his hand and pulls him down the stairs, stopping on the second floor where the guests usually stay. “Where are we going?” Carlos asks.

“Do you trust me?” T.K. asks.

“Absolutely.” His response is quick and certain.

T.K. tugs on his hand, and reaches for the doorknob of the master suite. “Didn’t you already clean in here?” Carlos asks as they step inside.

The room is opulent, starched white sheets and comforter on the king size bed, polished wood gleaming on the walls, marble countertops and that gaudy lion tap staring at them through the open doorway of the en suite. T.K. spent two hours in here today getting it ready for the next charter, but right now he couldn’t care less about whatever rich ass people will be in here tomorrow afternoon. Even if he has to clean it all again, it’s worth it.

“I thought this might be a little safer than the bunks,” he says, locking the door behind them.

Carlos’ hand goes to his head self-consciously, clearly remembering the near concussion he received this morning. “Great idea. Do we need to get—“

“I put everything in here earlier,” T.K. tells him. 

Carlos smiles, his eyes flashing with something dark. “You thought ahead.”

“Yes. I did.” T.K. pushes his swim trunks to the floor with a wet splat and looks deeply into Carlos’ eyes. “Take me to bed Carlos Reyes.”

[skylarynns-1870]

Roll Call: 1870s Adventurer Edition

Josephine "Josie" Doyle, Old West Gunslinger

Player: Skylarynn [Yours Truly] Mark of Handling Human Outlander background Level 7 Gunslinger Fighter

Born on the Western Frontier to an American cowboy and a Mexican senorita, Josie grew up a bit more rough-and-tumble than other young 'ladies' her age. After a monster attack that cost her her eye and her family their lives, leaving Josie irrevocably changed in more ways than one, she finds herself called to battle the eldritch under the guidance of someone - or something - that calls itself Damocles.

Basil Morgan, Victorian Gentleman Thief

Player: Sage Mark of Finding Human Noble background Level 1 Rogue/Level 7 College of Eloquence Bard

Born in the more refined upper crust of Victorian society, Basil has become a remittance man - a younger son with no hope of inheritance sent away to America and paid a small allowance to stay out of trouble. Basil being Basil, however, tends to walk headlong into trouble anyway, and when he meets a one-eyed lady gunslinger [Josie] haunted by danger at every step, Basil does exactly what his family would forbid and runs headfirst into peril by her side.

Kojiro Mori, Disgraced Former Samurai

Player: Kai Mark of Sentinel Human Haunted One background Level 9 Samurai Fighter

Raised in the hallowed traditions of the Japanese warrior caste, Kojiro's world is now falling apart as the Meiji reign takes over, making the caste - and Kojiro himself - obsolete relics of an older time. Then, when crossing the Pacific to request aid from samurai descendants in Mexico goes horribly wrong, Kojiro spirals into an existential crisis as he questions the futility of his original quest when something as unstoppable and unforgiving as the Sleeper in the Deep exists.

Lafayette Chastain, Elderly French Pirate

Player: Lawrence [Sage's dad] Variant Human Sailor background Level 15 Swashbuckler Rogue

Decades ago, Lafayette was a charismatic young privateer at sea in the Caribbean, adventuring with fearless abandon in a world of excitement and opportunity. Now, he spends most of his time in various bars and saloons across America, regaling fellow patrons with embellished tales of his exploits as he seeks one last adventure; a man who has outlived his destiny.

Dominique Escharra-Romero, Spanish Catholic Priest

Player: Damien Mark of Passage Human Acolyte background Level 6 Celestial Warlock

Charismatic, devout, and ambitious, Dominique was a rising star in the Church of his homeland Spain - which may be why his contemporaries shipped him overseas to serve in Mexico where he was no longer a threat to their careers. Ever-unflappable, Dominique took the transference in stride and immediately began thriving in his new position; though perhaps that has to do with his newfound powers of healing that he ascribes to the divine.

Izel Maria Torres, Aztec-Descended Druid

Player: Iris Plane Shift[?] Human Courtier background [might be wrong on that one] Level 4 Circle of the Primeval Druid/Level 2 Grave Domain Cleric

Born first a daughter of the people and baptized a daughter of the Lord, Izel is as much a child of the native Nahua of Mexico as she is a child of God. Despite the struggles of living in two very different worlds, Izel has successfully bridged the two cultures in her life, reconciling her 'pagan' attunement to nature and the wild with her faith in Christ under the proud tutelage of Father Dominique.

Gideon Ross, Union Veteran Sniper

Player: Gavin [Matt's older brother] Plane Shift Human Marine background Level 12 Renegade Fighter

Already a veteran of the Mexican-American War, Gideon was not eager to fight again until his only son Jesse died for his country in a Confederate ambush. Once the war was over and the Confederacy crushed, Gideon migrated westward, roughing it out in the wilderness.

Boris Starkov, Russian Cossack Deserter

Player: Barry Variant Human Soldier background Level 3 Cavalier Fighter/Level 5 Oath of Devotion Paladin/Level 1 Great Old One Warlock

Boris has always trod the path of the loyal and faithful soldier, but that was shattered when his superiors left his unit to die while they fled. Forever changed, Boris hunts eldritch things wherever he travels, pushed ever onwards by the mysterious Pythia.

Carmen de Oliveira, Brazilian Escaped Slave

Player: Cameron Variant Human Urchin background Level 7 Way of the Capoerista [Drunken Master] Monk

Life on the Brazilian plantations was arduous, exhausting, and abusive, but Carmen has finally broken away and escaped to freedom. Fleeing bounty hunters and slave catchers alike, Carmen makes her way to Mexico to start anew.

Alina Reiter, Austrian Noble Refugee

Player: Alison [Cameron's younger sister] Variant Human Courtier background Level 6 Phoenix Soul Sorcerer

Scion of an ancient and powerful family of shadow sorcerers, Alina's potent and blinding magic is unique, to say the least. But now that her brother Aleksander has taken his role as leader of the family, Alina has absconded into the night, knowing that she cannot let her magic remain in their hands.

[transhawks]

A Thin Veneer: BNHA 374

As dedicated readers of BNHA and meta for BNHA meta would know, the way characters drawn and depicted, the way certain scenes are framed, all of that is crucial to points Horikoshi makes about his characters, the plot, and the themes he wants to convey. Something to note is expression and how people are drawn. On the subject of Hawks, we know from in-text reactions to him that he is seen as conventionally attractive, and typically has a cheeky or happy-nature in his expressions. It's alone or in tense movements that we see something else.

What we do have is faces that break the Uncanny valley, like the famous image pre-"attacking" Best Jeanist, or getting confirmation about the raid where he very much show-cased his heteromorphic side, or the frightening image of him from Jin's pov as he was shrouded in shadows and looked very much like a predator.

What's consistent in these images is 1. Hawks was in control at of himself when he makes those faces 2. They usually don't *take* away from him in terms of find him "palatable" even if he's frightening. And there's a point to this.

Hawks isn't unflappable; there are plenty of moments where he loses his facade and cool, and we can argue those faces were truer to his inner nature than the bubbly cheeky personality he puts on a lot of the time.

But facially, it's interesting that he was so solemn as a child, and when alone and comfortable with himself, he seems to be mostly blank-faced and not very expressive. Perhaps that is the "default" Keigo.

Why all of this talk of faces and how Hawks is drawn? Because with 374, something has changed, and it means something very heavy is coming up with Hawks in the future.

First off, let's read about a certain trope

If a character is deranged or has just lost it for a moment, one eye is drawn as being very different than the other. Commonly, the Mad Eye (or its iris/pupil) is much larger than the other. Can also double as an unspoken Oh, Crap! moment. For extra effect, may be paired with Twitchy Eye.

Consistently, Dabi has been shown to be drawn with this trope time and time again. It's featured in promo art, in his battles, and this example up top. Dabi is clearly mentally unstable, openly and not unlike his friend Twice. The "Mad Eye" trope is meant to be a visual indicator of mentally instability. There's nary been a time where we've seen Hawks drawn like this. Even when he was drawn smirking before "killing" Best Jeanist, the eyes were the same.

It's interesting that his expression and eyes were relatively stable through out the process leading up to killing Bubaigawara Jin. But in the same panel where he kills him (right in the image above), half his face is obscured. Still, there's still an element of control here. I, and many other meta writers, have written about how control is a specific element in Hawks's character. His skill is in his technique, where he lacks in pure power, his skill in using his quirk in extremely adaptable and creative ways shows that he has an intense amount of control over it. And essentially his quirk is in that - controlling feathers do the various things they're capable of (sensors, listening devices, controlling their movements, flexibility, hardness, etc).

When being in control is so crucial to Hawks's quirk functioning, and being out of control so crucial to his narrative (the frequent caged bird references), it's interesting that most of the time Keigo is control of himself, even if he isn't in control of his circumstances. It's what made the HPSC make him a spy and what makes him, in my opinion, an interesting character.

By interesting, I don't mean "good" or "bad", moral or immoral or amoral, etc. I mean interesting in that he's complex and there's still mystery to him. It's very hard to understand Hawks because Keigo's story and personality are layered and presented to us in a way that it's difficult to get a full picture.

So what do we see in this chapter?

Keigo losing control.

He's been remarkably poised this war arc. He started by immediately trying to assassinate AFO without hesitation: While he's had emotional moments, one of the most striking things is that in earlier chapters against AFO, he's been repeating something that shows where his mindset is:

This whole fight Hawks has been telling Endeavor to keep a cool head, to not be provoked, to regain control of himself. He also keeps trying to play the circumstances - delaying so heavy-hitters like Enji can get a shot in, making sure everything it together.

Something else to notice is Hawks is wounded over the left side of his wave, and there's blood drying over his eye. However, there are numerous pictures of him in this state where his eyes are open at the same time or half-closed and there's no indication that he can open more than other.

As you can see here, this is Hawks with the blood over his eye in various expressions. Even when stressed, his expression never gives us indications of the "going mad" trope as the most recent chapter does. Thus, whatever is going on cannot be explained as due to his wound - it hasn't been shown before.

Why make so much of a single panel?

Because it's important.

We have Hawks, known for being very in control of himself and who tries to be in control of situations around him, and we have heavy build up by Hawks being the one to remind Endeavor to not lose it.

And yet....

This is not like anything we've seen from him so far. The mere sight of Twice alive again, the knowledge that what he did was for naught, heck, All For One is provoking him just on that basis:

"Time to learn how it might have turned out if you hadn't made his death your top priority back then."

Hawks's extrajudicial assassination of Twice became a viral moment, and don't forget it was drawn that way in the same time Japan had started undergoing protests for police brutality in 2020 due to viral videos of local beatings going viral amongst Japanese social media and twitter. Hawks has had to face immense scrutiny and criticism over his choice to kill Twice for the past few months, and his reaction to it has been to publicly apologize that he couldn't find another way to deal with him and to privately tell Best Jeanist that he admired the person he killed and wishes to be like him.

There's been no real show of regret, no reflection. And suddenly, with the appearance of Twice once more, we see a crack in this veneer:

Hawks's first words at the sight of the man he killed is to scream that the clones have to be killed immediately. Hawks's first expression at sight of Twice is one not of collected focus, nor even his usual anger or frustration.

He's drawn as if he's fucking crazy.

Horikoshi doesn't do panels like this for nothing. The way the panel beautifully lines up with one of Dabi's back covers, and the fact it's the first time Hawks has been drawn with the "mad eyes" trope is significant. It's showing us that Hawks, for the first time that we know of, is losing control of himself. And for a character whose narrative has been about controlling what people think and know about himself (and letting others do that for him), that's elemental to breaking down all we know of him.

This panel promises to show us another side of Hawks, a side he cannot hide away, or charm and joke his way out of. Naked, raw, and with no ulterior motives to control the situation, this face promises that we might finally hear what Hawks thinks of his actions and the reaction to them.

[theggning]

For today’s rambling meta rant about sad funny coffee man du jour, I want to talk about how more than any other character, even Phoenix, Godot is inextricably entangled with the Fey family.

Gigantomassive spoilers for T&T below the cut.

I’ve written before about the Fey clan and their toxic family politics, but no other unrelated character gets as caught up in it as Diego Armando. From the moment he allies himself with Mia Fey, his destiny becomes wrapped up in the same tangled threads that make the Fey clan the foundation of the whole trilogy.

Obviously, Diego’s love for Mia is the main drive of his character and all his actions. Also mentioned but often skimmed over is his deep hatred for Dahlia, who unquestionably ruined his life. By the time he awakens from his coma, Dahlia is already in prison on death row, already out of reach. There is nothing more Diego can do to her in retribution for her blinding, crippling, and nearly killing him. Robbed of any sense of justice or closure, this simmering anger combines with his grief and poisons his heart and soul as badly as his body. From the depths of this despair is born Godot, the cool unflappable prosecutor who everyone waits for. But even once he changes his name and distances himself from the failures of his past, Godot cannot pull away from the lost love that still haunts him-- and he will not extricate himself from the Feys. 

He fixates on Maya, determined to keep her safe in Mia’s stead. Now, the normal thing to do in this situation would be to introduce himself to Maya, who we all know would eagerly welcome him into the family (which she clearly does even after all the drama that follows.) But of course, Godot is anything but normal. I think his distance from Maya is easily explained by his guilt. Godot is the master of projection, and he absolutely blames himself for his perceived failure to protect Mia. In his mind, Maya will too. So it’s out of shame or guilt or his own self-hatred that he looks out for her from afar, determined that it’s better she never find out exactly who he is.

(I absolutely love Godot’s subtle softness/protectiveness for Maya. Look at the tenderness with which he treats her in the aftermath of the 3-5 murder, carrying her to safety and cleaning her up and keeping her warm. Even better when supplementary canon quietly acknowledges this. Like check out this moment from fever dream stageplay Turnabout Gold Medal. I GODDAMN SCREAMED)

But Maya’s only the beginning of the Feys Godot becomes wrapped up with. He makes an enemy out of Morgan. She’s also rotting in prison for her actions in 2-2, but those actions so dismay Godot that he starts surveilling her detention center visits with Pearl. He teams up with Misty. Like him, she’s obsessed with the past and ashamed of her mistakes, but will go to extreme lengths to protect Maya.  They both recruit Iris, who’s also stricken with guilt and all three of them are willing to do stupid, convoluted, irrational things to make up for their past “sins.”

(For the purposes of this post, we’re going to acknowledge the fact that the rescue plan in 3-5 was dangerous, dumb, and entirely preventable by all involved. We’re also going to acknowledge that Misty and Iris were party to this plan and conspired to create it, and neither of them did the smart thing either. Godot is just especially willing to take the blame.)

And then there’s Pearl. They don’t interact onscreen much, but Godot shows a desire to protect her and shield her feelings like he does Maya. When Godot encounters the frightened, freezing Pearl at the Inner Temple he’s kind to her, comforting her with his last cup of coffee (somehow sweetening it so she’ll like the taste.) He expresses admiration for her pure love for Maya, and the idea that it could have been Pearl who he stabbed in the garden clearly disturbs him.

I’m not sure there’s a more blatant crime of passion in the AA series than 3-5. Godot stabs Dahlia/Misty, taking her life/defending an innocent out of love/hatred, to protect Maya/from a situation that he and her mother let her walk into. It’s honestly no wonder this is such a divisive and widely discussed case in the fandom-- there really is no untangled way to view it. Godot is a complex, tangled mess of a man permanently wrapped up with the Feys, a complex, tangled mess of a family. Love and hate and vengeance and protection and ambition and guilt fuel all of them, and all of the events that go down between them.

Undoubtedly, Diego’s life would have gone a lot smoother and been a lot simpler if he never got involved with the Feys. But if offered the choice, I don’t think he’d take it. Because, of course, the most important Fey of all is the first one he meets: the one he chooses to stand beside and the one he loses his heart to. Diego’s love for Mia is at the core of his character, and it’s that love that binds him into the twisted roots of her family tree as inextricably as any of its members.

So what I’m saying is that Diego deserves honorary Fey status and I support “Weird Uncle Diego” headcanons and fanworks with every fiber of my being and I’m pretty sure canon would agree with me.

[ask-dgs-221bbakerstreet]

Who's the easiest to the least easiest to fluster? Ryunosuke cant answer because we all know how easy it is to get him all blushy blushy (sorry ryu)

...okay, that's fair...

Iris is near unflappable. I don't think I've ever even seen her nervous.

Miss Susato doesn't normally get flustered, though her previous idolisation of me did cause her to, more than a few times.

Daddy is usually good at covering it up, but I've seen him after getting kissed on the cheek.

[thekimspoblog]

Iris Wexler-McGill (Born Dec. 2017) They/Them

The night dad didn't come home. They never forgave their mother for it.

They steal. EVERYTHING!

Poetic sensibility. Their sister warns them that their recklessness is going to backfire, but they went and shook-down the old HHM building anyway. The way they see it; that building always belonged to them.

FIGHT! Quick thinking and deception is the first course of action, but Iris will always stand their ground over fleeing. Thinking globally means realizing you cannot outrun tyranny.

That's a tricky question, because they would do anything for the cause, but it isn't really THEIR cause. They were born into a second civil war; defending feminism and LGBTQ rights with tooth-and-claw is all they've ever really known.

Iris isn't willing to kill, not by acting on purpose and directly at least. And there are many times where murder would have been the easiest option.

A lot of things, up to and including their gender. But the biggest thing is obviously that they were originally supposed to be born in June of 2004.

Absolutely. Call it a hereditary trait. But mostly just... see aforementioned Second American Civil war. As I've mentioned in other posts, this kid's gonna grow up post-apocalypse. If it wasn't for the time capsule Iris dug up, there would be little evidence this country ever even HAD law and order.

"Do the Evolution" by Pearl Jam

The sequel to BCS I want to write focuses more on how the Breaking Bad universe occasionally teases magical or supernatural elements. And yeah if I get bored it's going to stop being subtle and its' just going to turn into an urban fantasy AU. I'm waiting for "WYCARO" to air.

Iris can use guns for self-defense and intimidation tactics. But their most prized possession is the pinky ring they inherited.

Iris isn't LITTERALLY a reincarnation of Howard Hamlin, but there is a sort of symmetry to their character arcs. Iris spends their whole life into young adulthood fighting the same war/revolution their parents did, under great pressure to uphold some family legacy that promises to retroactively make all the bloodshed justified. But after a full television season of their sister begging them to reevaluate The Cause, Iris finally does decide to lay down their proverbial sword. The cause might have been righteous, but Iris isn't a messiah; they're just another stray dog roaming the wasteland. Kim and Jimmy took up this cause to give everyone's children a better future; neither of them would have wanted their kids to die for this crap.

I'm trying my best not to write Iris as a self-insert. This character (and other similar baby OCs from other fanfics) is significant to me because my mom is the person who got me into this show in the first place. A few years ago, my mom and I were fighting really badly and (to paraphrase) my mom said something to me: "If your 20-something kid is standing in front of you yelling 'you screwed me up!' it means you did at least TWO THINGS right; you kept them alive and you gave them the emotional freedom to be critical of you". MOM is a very crushing label to put on someone, and you're bound to be criticized for falling short sooner or later. But just remember motherhood is a primordial force of nature, not something you can actually succeed or fail at, no matter what the justice system says. And you can't be paralyzed by fear of failure from living your life indefinitely. That's what I think is the heart of any fanfic exploring a surprise pregnancy and Kim's mom baggage. So to answer your question, it's not about any specific overlap I have with this character (or Kim), but the intergenerational dynamic of mother/daughter is somewhat autobiographical.

Tough. Unflappable. Rebellious. Just. Always the one with the witty comeback and the plan to save the day.

Originally it was going to be Hadley Delany, but I guess representational casting would necessitate finding someone who's actually nonbinary.

High. Iris is a hardened soldier. Basically Se6 of Better Call Saul didn't turn out how I expected, but we DID get a post-apocalyptic miracle baby in the form of Frankie Nichols from Westworld. Iris and Frankie are basically the same character.

See #1 again. A lot of childhood was spent with the au pair, and their parents disappearing for weeks on end. It was always scary, the possibility they wouldn't come home that time. And then one night... it finally happened. RIP Jimmy.

It's more like if the Joker had a coherent and ethical reason for their actions? Iris is warm and bright and funny. Because "Mother's sharp ruthlessness + Dad's cavalier attitude = a dangerous winning combination" is the persona they've lived all their lives. But don't mistake that for intimacy; it's all an act. Their sister is the only one Iris actually talks to.

"One must imagine Sisyphus laughing" - Albert Camut. A lot of scarring things happen in Iris's life, but they're able to take most of it in stride. Because they are so certain of their own convictions, it's like they can see 100 years into the future, when so many small horrors will be forgotten. So it's not really about rage; raging against the machine is what they do on a good day. It's when Iris's faith in THE PLAN is shaken, that you would actually be able to provoke them.

Jealous? No. Passing-off-an-act-of-selfishness-as-being-for-the-greater-good-because-they're-a-spoiled-brat? Yes. Iris does believe the world and the future belongs to them.

Healthy as a clam. Can ward off the evil-eye. Closest thing to a disease, the unnatural circumstances of their birth lead Kim to always find her daughter a little creepy. They're a changeling.

Lawful-good in a chaotic-neutral world.

Doubt.

Jimmy and Kim had ample choices to pick alternate timelines for their daughter. But Iris was always going to be generally the same person in generally the same circumstances.

This is my Half-Life 3 bro. Hollywood can never stop milking a cash cow, and if we get any more content set in the Breaking Bad/Better Call Saul universe, I hope we get more stories about the crotch-dumplings' abilities to survive. If not Iris, the demand to know what Kaylee, Flynn and Holly did next seems pretty vocal.

Edgy/misc OC ask meme ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

Send me a number and an OC, and I'll answer.

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

What's something about your OC that people wouldn't expect just from looking at them?

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn?

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

How easily could your OC be convinced to do something that goes against their moral compass?

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

Would your OC ostensibly be able to get away with murder?

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Is your OC self-destructive? In what ways?

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

What is your OC's pain tolerance like?

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

Is your OC more cold and detached or up close and personal?

How does your OC behave when enraged?

Does your OC have a tendency to get jealous? If so, how does this manifest?

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

What character alignment would you consider your OC to be?

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

[secret-engima]

Random Amusing Thought for Blood of My Blood verse

Okay so we joked about Dyn and his Retinue meeting the young Chocobros 1.0 and that was fun but picture.

Dyn and Co meeting Somnus, Gil, and Ardyn (and possibly Aera? Probably not that way be angst) pre them becoming enemies/betrayal/sickness/etc. Just like- when they’re teenagers or YOUNG adults (Somnus was 30 when he betrayed Ardyn btw and Ardyn was 35). They’d be 20/25 at most, before Ardyn has started his journey to heal people, before Somnus has gone powermad, before the brothers are even that estranged, all that stuff.

-I could make it angsty in various ways but honestly I’d rather go with hilarious. Let’s just say that Dyn faceplants way into the past (an alternate dimension’s past? Who knows) and he brings his Retinue with him, and since he probably showed up in a really showy way or like- the Crystal itself casually spat them out in the middle of some kind of formal private event with the LCs, nobody can mistake them for intruders or strangers or an illegitimate LC from their time. (That and their modern clothes would look so out of place).

-Som’s and Ardyn’s Dad is very confused. On the one hand, the boy before them is clearly an LC from the future, and he admits to being the son of the one hundred and fourteenth king so LOOK. PROOF OF A PROSPEROUS LEGACY. On the other- the boy is dressed strangely, and is irreverent, and has a lot of scandalously dressed (read, not dressed in skirts down to the heel or whatever) young ladies and only one male retainer who honestly looks like he wants to fight everyone in the room.

-The boy gleefully introduces them as his Retinue, and the tall woman dressed in a skirt that shows off a truly preposterous amount of leg is apparently his Shield and primary bodyguard. “Her name’s Iris,” chirps Prince Dionysus with a grin just this shade of wicked, “Iris Amicitia.”

-Behind the gaping Somnus, Gilgamesh chokes on his spit.

-So anyway the young retinue would hang out for a few days, staying out of sight of the other nobility and causing trouble and generally wigging out Somnus and Ardyn, who are kinda assigned to Deal With Them since their father is two shades away from having a heart attack out of sheer mortification (HOW FAR HAVE SOCIETAL STANDARDS FALLEN IN THE FUTURE THAT THIS BOY CAN CHOOSE SO MANY WOMEN AS HIS RETAINERS. CLEARLY HE IS BEDDING ALL OF THEM AND PUTTING THE BLOODLINE AT RISK. THE SCANDAL).

-Certus keeps trying to fight Somnus. And Gilgamesh. And literally anyone but the very bemused Ardyn, who is noting uneasily just how eerily alike in appearance he and the young prince are (is this his descendant? Does he become heir after all? But the boy has mentioned an Oracle line, so does he not wed Aera? Or is this boy of Somnus’s line and their near likeness is coincidence? The boy refuses to answer, simply saying he is the descendant of the Mystic, but shrugging when asked who the Mystic was. Ardyn would suspect lies, except the boy is from two thousand years forward in time, and even the best records can lose names after that long).

-Sibyl, Dionysus’s Hand (and those positions haven’t been created yet outside Somnus’s Shield Gilgamesh, so everyone is surprised to learn she is the prince’s chief advisor) is trying to keep the peace but is honestly ready to smack Somnus with a frying pan at this rate. Because tone down the scoffing over a near all-women Retinue boi.

-Gilgamesh is still wrapping his head around the fact that his distant descendant is a woman, but is still given the position of Shield? And she dresses so strangely? How in the world does she do her job? She can’t possibly fight???

-The whole Retinue goes dead quiet when Gilgamesh finally voices this aloud and even Certus looks wide-eyed. Iris smiles, all cheer and girlish charm, with her too-short skirt and her leggings and tall boots and pretty pink bow in her hair, and asks if Gilgamesh would like to spar with her and see her skills for himself?

-Gilgamesh reluctantly agrees, but swears to Dionysus softly that “don’t worry, he won't hurt her”. Dionysus just laughs in his face.

-Iris, who is Very Annoyed™ because she already has to deal with a milder form of this stuff back home, let alone the medieval, much more open and insulting version, brings out her battle scythe solely so that Gilgamesh can sigh and Somnus can scoff on the sidelines over the pink-tinted, ribboned weapon. Iris swings the scythe sideways almost lazily, Gilgamesh raises his sword to block with a mental sigh and a growl over how far his line must have fallen in two thousand years.

-He promptly gets smacked across the sparring ground and into the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him.

-While everyone is gaping at the dust cloud his sudden flight left, Iris flicks the scythe into her armiger with a cheerful, “You know, traditionally I’m supposed to use weapons, which is why I have that scythe. But honestly,” the kitty gauntlets fall out of armiger right onto her waiting hands as she cocks back her fists and crouches, “I’ve always preferred to punch my problems.”

-Iris launches herself at Gilgamesh with astonishing speed, practically a weaponless warp, and Dionysus laughs at the terrified silence that falls over the other onlookers when Gilgamesh dodges the punch so Iris hits the sparring room wall and the bricks straight up explode. There is a VERY LARGE hole in the wall now, and a small shockwave crater below the impact zone.

-Behind his mask, Gilgamesh’s eyes are just about ready to fall out of his head. On the sidelines, Ardyn and Somnus are both choking on their spit.

-Cue Iris chasing a completely flatfooted Gilgamesh around the sparring ground, leaving craters as she goes with her punches, because Gilgamesh might eventually become an immortal, unflappable swordsman but right now he’s only like- 25 at most and he’s never met a woman (a descendant) who can gleefully punch holes in the ground with metal gauntlets that look like smiling house cats.

-Dionysus is dying of laughter. So are Sibyl and Aurora. Certus is vibrating in place, wanting to join in the chase but knowing better than to get in the way of an Iris on the warpath.

-When Iris is finally done terrorizing her ancestor, she skips back over to Dionysus like she’s a girl a lot younger and more civilian than she really is and chirps, “That was fun, but Gladdy’s more of a challenge.”

-Somnus and Ardyn exchange looks of horror and decide, along with the panting Gilgamesh, that they never want to find out who or what Gladdy is. Knowing their fortune, it might be Iris’s mother or something.

[theodcr]

             INTRODUCING ... THE PRINCESS OF SWEDEN

THE BASICS.

NAME: josefina katrin emelina iris oldenburg GENDER & PRONOUNS: female, she / her AGE: twenty - eight FC: kristine froseth, elizabeth lail, elizabeth olsen, any fitting female fc TITLES: princess of sweden; duchess of östergötland; member of the royal order of the seraphim; 2019 winner of the nobel peace prize

SWEDEN’S GOLDEN CHILD.

for josefina and theodor, the pressure has always been on. as children of the crown prince, and then as children of the king, they were raised under a microscope unlike any other. frederik and emelina did what they could for their children, trying to keep them out of the paparazzi’s eye as much as possible, but only so much could be done for the young prince and princess. especially when their grandfather died and left the crown to his son, all eyes were on the young royals. josefina has always worked very well under pressure, perhaps due to all the attention in her youth; one slip-up could result in mass scrutiny of herself and her family, so she learned how to always keep a smile, a calm manner, and a keen mind.

she was in a unique position as her parents’ spare – though she was never made to feel like the spare, and she was loved just the same as her brother – she had somewhat more freedom in her hobbies and how she spent her time, but she still had to be ready to rule should misfortune strike. she was tutored in history, politics, and law, just like her brother. and while she never grasped it quite as well as he did, she has a firm enough understanding to skirt by should she need to.

when their father died, josefina leaned heavily on theodor for support. the two became inseparable, even more than they had been before, and it was as much for theodor’s benefit as her own. she spent her days looking after her brother, making sure he ate and slept. in her adulthood, spent as it has been in hospitals and on military bases, her impeccable bedside manner and way of gentle, measured persuasion has been remarked upon more than once by her superiors. she attributes this to dealing with her brother, stubborn as he is, throughout their youth.

the oldenburgs have always been a military family, but theodor’s enlistment still blindsided josefina. she was only fourteen, and in fourteen years, she had not raised her voice at theodor. she had never needed to. but this was the one agreement they could not reach, the one compromise they couldn’t find. he was dead set on enlisting, and she was dead set against it. he went to war, and josefinia could do nothing to stop him. in his absence, she found her passion for medicine. it stemmed from deep fears that her brother would not return in one piece, some effort to have control of an uncontrollable situation. when he came home with a gunshot wound in his hip, josefina was glad for the connections she’d already forged, even at the tender age of eighteen. she was instrumental in helping him to walk again; without her there to encourage him, he’d never have managed.

in 2016, josefina enlisted in the military as a nurse. she traveled the world, gaining hands-on experience. the optics were good, and the fulfillment was even better. she gained great joy from helping those who needed it. throughout three years of service, she focused on protecting civilians, particularly children. she saved countless lives, and in 2019, her service was rewarded with a nobel peace prize.

josefina’s military service ended only last year, when she returned home to sweden to focus on internal affairs and to . now, she’s joining the other royals in the program at theodor’s request. he needs from his sister what she is always able to provide (at least, in his mind): a smile, a calm manner, and a keen mind.

TL;DR

josefina is the princess of sweden, the second daughter of the late king frederik iv and dowager queen emelina, and younger sister of crown prince theodor. she cares deeply for her people and family. she was in the public eye from a young age, and is beloved by her people. in 2019, she was awarded the nobel peace prize for her service as a military nurse. while she has not been as active in the international community as her brother, she is still a well-known name, and has worked as a diplomat and ambassador for sweden in the past. overall, she is gentle, unflappable, and clever, with a strong sense of duty, a loyalty to her people, and a desire to do what’s right.

MORE INFO

other connections in the rp: @catherinestuart​ (sister-in-law); @lucadansembourg​ & @wcndv​ (maternal first cousins); @ebbv​, @vstridb​, & @frejaedb​ (paternal second cousins)

family task: click here !

wanted connection for @highsocietyhq. please contact @theodcr before applying.

[ducktracy]

92. buddy’s adventures (1934)

release date: november 17th, 1934

series: looney tunes

director: ben hardaway

starring: jack carr (buddy), bernice hansen (cookie), billy bletcher (king/cop)

ahhh, a promising start, right? anything telling you that buddy is on an adventure means it is just going to be CHOCK FULL of action packed fun! actually, the buddy cartoons WOULD take more of an adventurer turn, a trend adopted by some of the porky cartoons (most notably porky in wackyland). in an ill-fated hot air balloon ride, buddy and cookie end up in “sourtown”, where the residents aren’t nearly as open to accepting buddy’s optimism.

a good start to the cartoon: buddy dumping sand bags off an ascending hot air balloon, accompanied by an anxious cookie. buddy has gotten his final redesign—i like it a lot! i think it looks much better than his earl duvall version. he appears much more likable and cute. cookie’s also gotten another redesign, both reverting to their tom palmer roots in a way.

buddy exercises his genius by remarking “look, cookie! in a few minutes we’ll be on mars!” cookie laments “you and your dirty inventions, i wish i hadn’t come along! i’m afraid!” initially, i didn’t think much of the opening. i laughed at the ridiculousness of buddy suggesting they’ll go to mars—but now that i think about it, it’s a good opening. opening right in the middle of some “action”, establishing some personality. buddy makes inventions and has dreams of exploring, unflappable optimism benefitting him and him only. i think that’s cute! maybe i’m just desperate for any shred of personality in these darn characters.

buddy laughs in dismissal, saying “what’s there to be afraid of?” a lightning crack and boom of thunder put him in his place as he sinks in the basket, laughing sheepishly “must’ve been something i ate.” i think this is the most we’ve ever heard buddy talk in a cartoon. well, maybe not, but some cartoons he only says one word! it’s refreshing.

anthropomorphic storm clouds further put an end to buddy’s optimism, a cloud blowing the balloon around and another boxing it like a punching bag. there’s a strange scene as the surroundings around buddy and cookie melt, like a dream sequence. i was REALLY thrown off—is this the wizard of oz? another porky’s romance? wholly smoke? or the great piggy bank robbery? is it a cartoon surrounded by a demented dream? evidently it was just a jab at some cinematography, as everything focuses back to normal. i applaud them for trying something different, but it doesn’t deliver and comes off as vague and confused, motive muddled in time.

some snake storm clouds spit lightning at the balloon, snapping the lines to the balloon. buddy and cookie tumble in the air, the falling basket thankfully scooping them to relative safety. the basket slide across a few cliffs like a sled, and the couple skids past a sign that reads “TO LEMONIA — THE SOUR DOMAIN”. they narrowly skid under a bird (a dodo? buddy in wackyland?) who laughs as they whiz by... quickly eating his guffaws as an anchor hooks on the bird’s foot and drags it along.

an anthropomorphic castle swallows up buddy and cookie as they slide into their new domain, the sled breaking against a sign. buddy’s optimism is endearingly amusing as he announces “...well, here we are!”, refuted with a “alright, buddy, where are we??” from cookie. a sign welcoming them to SOURTOWN answers cookie’s inquiry. perhaps a neighboring town to the one in the rankin bass santa claus is coming to town special. rules include: NO LAUGHING, NO SINGING, NO DANCING, and NO JAZZ MUSIC. the past 92 cartoons broke down to their bare essentials!

of course, buddy laughs off the arbitrary rules, already setting himself up for danger. cookie scowls at him and points offscreen—a great gag of laurel and hardy in stocks, imprisoned for smiling and laughing respectively, laurel sniveling incomprehensibly.

nevertheless, buddy is undeterred as he leads cookie through the town, the two of them pausing to watch a trio of men saunter through the streets, accompanied by furtive music. the men gather in front of “YE PESSIMISTS CLUB” (relevant today, huh? and drink some vinegar, just to show us how really sour they are. it’s certainly coy but amusing. they sing about how they never laugh or smile, life just a bowl of lemons. i thought one of the laws was no singing, and yet they’re singing about how they hate singing?

good hearted buddy interrupts their groveling, correcting in a sing song voice “pardon me, but you’re all wrong. life is much more cheerful! that’s no way to sing a song, listen and get an earful!” he grabs the spare mandolin one of the curmudgeons had been using and sings a song of his own (haven’t found any indication as to what it is he’s singing). buddy is still pretty bland, but this is the most personality we’ve seen yet, and i enjoy it! i love my optimistic characters, so maybe that’s it. various animals and plants scat along with buddy, an angry woman closing her shutters and silencing any form of singing from the wildlife.

an amusing gag as a police officer takes off his hat and peers inside, a note reminding him that the laws include no dancing and no singing. hard to remember, ain’t it? he approaches buddy and cookie, the pessimists scramming at the sight of the cop. he tells him that they’re headed for the “sour pen”... that’s a new one! he rides away on his scooter, buddy and cookie shanghaied in a little box behind him.

we finally meet the king of sourtown, a man who sequences lemons on his head and drinks the juice. a beverage fit for a crabby king! i love how asinine this entire cartoon is. it reminds me not even of disney, but like a pseudo willy wonka setting. it’s nice that we actually have some story structure and plot, and that buddy and cookie converse with each other as have a sliver of personality to them.

the king spots buddy and cookie, insisting they’ll “be sentenced to the spanking hand.” sure enough, YE OLDE SPANKING MACHINE awaits. absurdly strange, but good! i suppose. this isn’t phenomenal, or great, even, but it’s a refreshing change from the monotony we’ve been seeing as of late. cookie asks “what do we do?”, to which buddy whispers back “leave it to me!” and whips out a harmonica from his pocket.

highly amusing to watch buddy blare the harmonica in the king’s face, running around to all sides of him and making sure to get up in his business. it reminds me of the droopy cartoons by tex at mgm, a little pest you can’t get rid of. tex’s the blow out would also serve as a precursor to those cartoons, porky in droopy’s place, and tortoise beats hare would be an expansion of the blow out. fascinating! anyway, buddy’s is delightfully annoying, on purpose this time. cookie dances to the harmonica music as a line of knights observe, the king exerting every effort not to succumb.

gradually, various knights themselves become inflicted with the jitterbug, one of the knights using a leg from a suit of armor as a saxophone. the king’s beard dances, as do his legs snapping together... finally, he admits defeat, declaring “it’s got me, pal! it’s got me!”

cookie conducts the knights, who join in on a chorus, and the whole town becomes enthralled with the power of music! the king shows off his slick moves, animation jaunty and appealing. he even slips off the rug and lands straight into YE OLDE SPANKING MACHINE (i love the YE OLDE), breaking into a fit of hysterics. back to buddy and cookie, who are sitting on the king’s throne, cookie sporting buddy’s hat. iris out as the two of them embrace.

with every review, i watch the cartoons twice. once for the initial reaction, and once when i’m going back and typing the whole shebang. first watch, i didn’t like it very much at all. i thought it was boring and coy, the ending where they all dance being the true highlight. but thank god for the second watch—this is now one of my favorite buddy cartoons, if not favorite. it’s not a fantastic cartoon by any means, it still leaves a lot to be desired, but it also fills SOME holes. buddy’s design is much more tolerable, boyish and cute. his optimism, albeit pretty one-dimensional, is very uplifting and endearing. the absurdity of the whole cartoon was very refreshing, and i’m glad we actually had some plot this time. it felt like a very subtle, subdued, distant relative to porky in wackyland. maybe because of the dodo bird in the beginning? it was an enjoyable cartoon, and i recommend it! it still isn’t perfect, the first half dragged on for quite awhile, but it actually stands out as a cartoon i can recognize and look back on in future reviews. the 1934 season has seldom been memorable.

link!

[marmolady]

“It’s his favourite movie...”

Book/Series: Endless Summer

Main Pairings: Estela x MC/Taylor (f)

Summary: Post-ending (Endless ending). Recalling a most intriguing creation of Rourke’s from the Endless’ memories, what kind of friend would Taylor be if she didn’t indulge Diego in some well-intentioned Freaky Friday shenanigans?

Warnings: Coarse language, sexual references. A lot of silliness. Much stupidity. 

Word Count: 5518

Tagging: @brightpinkpeppercorn @sceptilemasterr @bbaba-yagaa@edgydepressedchoicesthot @endlesssummerfan @blightarts @princessstellaris @acidsugar0 @taramitch96

“You’re telling me you’ve never seen Freaky Friday? What have you even been doing with your life?”

“Taking out fascist dictators and demanding justice for good people. What have you been doing with your life?”

Diego spluttered. It seemed someone had forgotten to put on her sense of humour when she got up in the morning.

“That’s what I thought. So, are you gonna tell me what you two are up to?” Estela looked from one suspicious face to the other. She’d caught Diego and Taylor whispering in a corner, talking about some movie and looking extremely shifty.

Taylor took out the device and handed it to her. “This thing I picked up from MASADA. It’s basically a body swap machine. It can put the mind of one person in someone else’s body.”

The grin had returned to Diego’s face, the anticipation all too much for him. “Basically, it makes for the best prank in history. We’ve just gotta pick our targets and -boom!- Freaky Friday time! And that, my friend, is how you win April Fools’ Day.”

Estela raised an eyebrow. “And you think this thing actually works? If Rourke had a weapon like that, why wouldn’t he use it?”

“What? No! It’s not a weapon! Taylor, she’s taking the fun out of it…”

Taylor shrugged. “Well, she’s got a point. In the wrong hands, this could be really dangerous. But I think Rourke made it just for fun. When I saw it used in the Endless’ memories, Aleister said it was his favourite movie.”

“I found the DVD in the VIP lounge, and it’s had some serious playback. Rourke was a psycho and all that, but even he had to nurture his inner movie nerd.”

“So, it worked in this alternate timeline you saw?”

“Yup,” Taylor nodded. “And we’re being careful. I checked with IRIS. She says it’s fully functional and ready to go. We’ve just got to test it out and get the hang of using it.”

Diego’s hand shot up in the air. “I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!”

Estela gave him a look that dashed his hopes and dreams in a second. “Nope. I don’t trust you with my body or the body of the woman I sleep with every night. Besides… that’s my line.”

“I love you, Diego, but I don’t really wanna get stuck married to you either,” Taylor admitted.

Crestfallen, he sighed. “Well, I guess that makes sense. So, you guys are gonna…?”

Estela frowned, but nodded. “Of the possible worst-case scenarios, that would be the least screwed up.” She looked at Taylor with an expression that could only be read as, I hope you know, you owe me big for this.

“Haha! I am gonna be so hot!” Taylor laughed as she saw her wife’s cheeks go a little pink. It was all too easy, but she loved having that effect on Estela. “Come on, let’s do this thing.”

Diego took the device and began to fiddle with it. “Okay, this should be on ‘safety mode’, so you’ll be able to see that you’re in range of the machine. Just make sure you stay in the glowy area, and I’ll have you switched in no time.”

Taylor took Estela’s hand with a playful smile. “Aren’t you so glad you checked in on what shenanigans we were up to?”

“I’d rather be on the inside than one of your victims, so yeah. But tonight, we get to do something I want to do, all right?”

“Thankfully our favourite night-time activities tend to align.” Taylor gave a cheeky wink. “Better hope we don’t get stuck…”

There was a small flash.

“Did it work?” asked Diego, shaking with anticipation. There had been no need, the looks on their faces told him all he needed to know.

Taylor, or at least, a person who looked like Taylor, wore an expression that would have been appropriate should she have been clubbed over the head.

‘Estela’ burst out laughing. “What’s that face for? You look cute! This is so weird…”

Estela, who looked rather like Taylor, shook herself, trying to avoid eye contact with her partner. Being stared at by your own face was creepy as all hell. “I don’t like it.”

Diego, in contrast, was jumping up and down, clapping his hands. “Why am I not filming this? If it wasn’t for the accent, we could have seen how long we could fool everyone!”

“Uh, the accent and the fact that ‘I’ve’ suddenly acquired a resting bitch face. Besides, then the jig will be up before we can indulge in some well-placed mischief.”

“How are you not more creeped out by this?”

Taylor shrugged her shoulders… Estela’s shoulders?... whatever. “I guess I’ve already seen myself through the memories the Endless gave me. And, you know, looked at the Endless. I’m pretty unflappable with the weird and wonderful these days. But maybe we should switch back… just so we know it works. I feel like this is gonna be awkward in the bedroom if we’re stuck like this.”

Estela shuddered. “God! Please.”

Pouting, Diego fiddled with the device. “You people are no fun at all. But as unofficial sponsor of your romantic relationship, I guess I’ll zap you back.”

There was another flash. Seeing Taylor --as Taylor-- in front of her, Estela pulled her into a hug.

“Thank fuck,” she said. Releasing her wife, who was doubled over laughing, she roughly took the device out of Diego’s hands. “It’s not that I don’t trust you with this, but…”

“Welp, there goes the brightest spot in my life…”

“I’m gonna tell Varyyn you said that-“

“Wha- No! Taylor!”

“So,” Estela stashed the device in the inside of her hoodie. “What’s your plan?”

  Before sun-up on April Fools’ Day morning. A positively giddy Diego was let into Taylor and Estela’s suite.

“So, we’re 100% set on our targets?” Taylor queried.

Diego shrugged. “I’m still all for a hotel-wide complete mix-up, but I guess this is fine.”

“Right. You keep an eye on the surveillance cameras, and if you’re sure they’re both asleep, give us a call over the radio, and Estela goes in.”

“Wait- won’t their door be locked?”

“Estela has the master key. Obviously.”

Diego looked at Estela with his mouth hanging open. “When did you get that?”

“The day we arrived.” Estela shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s a lot easier to search the place when you can get into every room.”

‘It’s nice to get a little reminder to always stay a tiny bit scared of you…”

Sometime later, Taylor and Diego waited in the atrium, having overseen Estela’s successful zapping of a sleeping Craig and Zahra. Diego would be switched too, for he would have it no other way, but wanting to be surprised, he decided that the unsuspecting victim should be whichever unfortunate person wandered downstairs first. And then there was Raj, strolling down to make breakfast.

“Taylor! Kitchen- kitchen, now!” Diego spluttered, and the two of them ran to lay their trap.

While Diego stood by the stovetop, doing his best attempt at nonchalance, Taylor lurked behind the solid counter, out of view from the doorway. She waited for her target to step into the room and then, adrenaline pumping through her, she activated the device.

For a moment, Raj -in Diego’s body- blinked rapidly and swayed on the spot, his eyes on his on form which was inexplicably standing before him. Instinctively, he reached for his pocket, only to find he was wearing Diego’s pants. “Where’s my…?” he mumbled.

Diego, trying not to squeal with excitement, pulled a packet out of Raj’s pocket and handed it to ‘himself’. “Maybe you should lay off that stuff for a while…”

“Yeah… yeah, I think I’ll sleep this one off…” Staggering a little, he turned back towards the door. “Thanks, Raj!” he called to Diego.

With Raj gone, Taylor came out from behind the counter. “Huh. That was kind of a non-event,” she said. “Though, to be fair, this being a weird drug trip is more believable than ‘got zapped by a Freaky Friday machine’.”

Standing by the reflective surface of the shiny metal fridge, Diego did a twirl. “Taylor, look! I’ve been Freaky Friday-ed!”

Estela stepped into the room and scowled. “You switched with Raj? There goes breakfast…”

Diego immediately deflated. “Ah.”

“And where is he?”

“Uh… back to bed I think…” It suddenly occurred to Diego that he’d better keep an eye on where his body was actually going.

“Hey, I’ll go after him,” said Taylor quickly. “If he sees himself chasing after him, he might do a runner. You can, uh… make breakfast?”

She made a beeline for Raj’s room and hammered on the door. Furball made an appearance, watching her with curiosity. “Raj, my man, you in there? It’s Taylor- just checking in, nothing to worry about.” Crap, girl, could you sound any more suspicious?

For several more minutes she banged on the door, until she was joined by Estela.

“Estela-“ Taylor hissed. “I don’t think he’s in there! Where would he go? He can’t just disappear with Diego’s body…”

Estela’s brow furrowed. This piece of harmless mischief was turning out to be more trouble than it was worth. She made a mental note not to leave Taylor and Diego unsupervised with each other for too long in the future. “He’d just woken up, he wouldn’t have gone far.” She threw the master key to Taylor. “Check he’s not in there and just completely out of it. I’ll keep an eye out for Craig and Zahra getting up.”

Leaving Taylor to search for Raj, Estela sat down and waited. Zahra wasn’t much of a sleeper- she’d be rummaging in the kitchen seeking out coffee soon enough. Or she would have been if she were herself… in Craig’s body, she was probably blissfully unconscious. With that in mind, Craig was probably already awake, but Estela suspected he’d be slow on the uptake.

A skittering of tiny claws on tile suddenly caught her attention. Trusting her gut feeling, Estela stood up and followed the footsteps into the lobby. There was Furball, bouncing around merrily, holding in his jaws… the device.

“How did you…?” Goddammit, Diego! Having left the device with him in the kitchen, it seemed the idiot had been distracted enough by his situation to let his guard down dangerously low. Estela approached cautiously, giving a low whistle to try and entice the fox closer.

Furball eyed her suspiciously, and readjusted his hold on his exciting prize. All he knew was, this weird metal box was interesting to the humans, so it had to be something good.

Then, strolling in from the atrium came Grace, greeting the day cheerily as ever.

“Good morning!” she said brightly.

“Uh, hi,” Estela replied after a long silence, preoccupied as she was with getting at Furball, who’d turned out to be a slippery little creature. As she reached for him, he scampered underneath a table and chewed on the device with gusto. “Furball!” she hissed, crawling after him. “Drop that!”

There was a bright flash, and a loud stream of fruity language.

‘Estela’, or rather, Grace, stood up, an expression of frightened confusion on her face. “Wh-what happened?” Her eyes grew wide as they laid on… herself?

“Get hold of the fox!”

But Furball had taken off at a run. Estela took Grace’s hand and hurtled after him. In the rush, Grace tripped and fell, and in the time it took Estela to pull her to her feet, the quick fox had vanished.

Estela huffed. This was just excellent.

  Having had no luck finding Raj in his room, Taylor was on a mission. The elevator door buzzed open, and standing inside were none other than her first victims, making her all but jump out of her skin.

“Look who it is,” ‘Craig’ said, his tone uncharacteristically icy. “Our friend, Taylor.”

“Hello, you two!” Taylor cried, excessively enthusiastic. “How are you this morning? Sleep well?”

Receiving a hard nudge from ‘Craig’, ‘Zahra’ spoke. “Uh… I never sleep well,” she said. “I’ve got that… not… sleeping… thing.”

‘Craig’s’ gaze was pointedly on Taylor, searching for weakness. “Obviously, I could sleep through the apocalypse…”

“-That’s not true!-“

“But Z was awake. Noticed a disturbance. So… any reason why your wife might have been creeping around our room at four in the morning?”

Taylor contorted her face into an expression that she believed to portray sweet innocence. How successful she was could be debated.

“You must have dreamed it. She has a way of getting inside people’s heads… it might be the staring, to be honest… I should talk to her about that…”

‘Craig’s’ eyes narrowed, while ‘Zahra’ was looking over herself with an air of amusement, poking and prodding her own body with clear fascination. She was taken by surprise as ‘Craig’ smacked her over the head.

“Hey! That’s not fair; you’re bigger than me!”

Taylor couldn’t hide her smirk. “Is something the matter? You two… don’t look like you’re feeling yourselves.” Oh god, Zahra is actually gonna murder me.

“Actually-“ ‘Zahra’ began, before receiving an elbow in the ribs. “You know you’re only hurting yourself?”

“Worth it. And shut your dumbass face.”

“It’s your…”

A look was all it took to silence ‘Zahra’. ‘Craig’ cleared his throat and continued to stare Taylor down. Clearly, she was behind it, but she stood firm under what should have been a withering gaze.

To Taylor’s relief, the elevator touched down in the atrium, saving her from a glare so scorching it would have impressed Estela. And then, there she was, just outside the elevator as it opened up.

“Oh, good morning!” she said shakily, a look of nervous confusion on her face.

Immediately, ‘Craig’ surged forwards. “I don’t know what you did to us, but you’ve got an hour to fix this bullshit or…”

‘Estela’ cowered away, eyes wide with fear. “Please- I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Oh, no, no, no, no, no…” Taylor stammered. There was no way on earth that was Estela.

After the briefest moment of realisation, Zahra and Craig roared with laughter.

“Ah, Tayls, ain’t karma a bitch?”

Taylor ignored them, focused instead on the poor imitation of her wife. “Shit…” She rubbed her forehead, thinking that she’d need a stiff drink before the day was out… and Estela would be needing an even bigger one. “…Okay… who am I talking to?”

“Grace,” came the meek reply, which was met with howls of mirth.

“Oh, Grace! I’m sorry! Wh-where’s Estela?”

“She went after Furball; he ran off with your body swap machine.”

“Wait, what?” Taylor’s eyes bulged; the device… Diego had hold of it… surely, he’d not been so careless?  “Double shit. Shit, shit, shit…”

Quick on the uptake, Zahra, who was in Craig’s body, grabbed him by the hand… her own hand?... and pulled him along after her.

“Hey- you can’t just run off!” Taylor protested, falling on conveniently deaf ears.

Zahra paused momentarily to give her a sly grin, something which looked rather bizarre on Craig’s face. “We’re going fox hunting. And just a warning, Tayls, my good friend, when I get hold of your body swap machine, you are screwed.”

As Taylor made to chase after them, raucous shouts rang out from the kitchen. “Diego!”

She turned and bolted to the sound of the kerfuffle, to find Diego-in-Raj-form cowering behind a worktop while his own likeness angrily waved a frying pan at him. Upon seeing Taylor, Raj-in-Diego-form pointed the pan accusingly at ‘himself’.

“Taylor, you’ve gotta help me… it’s an imposter! I thought it was me, that I was just tripping- I’ve seen that before. But then I smelled it- whatever that thing is burned our breakfast! That’s not me… that’s not me…”

“Raj…”

He kept on muttering to himself. “I’ve seen some weird stuff on this island, dude, but an evil-breakfast-burning twin… nah, it’s too much… too much, dude…”

“Hey! That’s not an evil twin. That’s Diego. Have you looked at yourself?”

“Die-wha?” Confused, Raj looked down, then back at Diego. “Ohhhh. Huh. That’s new.”

Diego hung his head. “Sorry about breakfast. When I Freaky Friday-ed us, I forgot that I’m like the guy in Ratatouille who can’t cook- but I don’t have a cooking genius rat to save me.”

A little stunned, Raj looked at his reflection in the door of the shiny, metallic refrigerator, watching his movements taking place in Diego’s body as a vessel, fascinated.

“Happy April Fools’ Day, Raj!” Diego cried, now confident that he wouldn’t have his friend’s lucky pan lobbed at his head. “Did we bring it, or did we bring it?”

“You most definitely brought it, my friend! Except for breakfast. That’s the saddest thing I’ve smelled in months. It’s borderline offensive, and you created it while wearing my innocent face.”

Taylor could breathe a sigh of relief. One missing person, found. If it wasn’t for the unfortunate Grace-Estela incident, the missing device, and the fact that a dangerously beefed-up Zahra was now on the warpath, she might call the ‘harmless’ prank a success.

“Right,” she said, “why don’t the two of you stay here, and fix breakfast up. I know Diego’s crap, but he doesn’t need a cooking genius rat… he has a cooking genius Raj.”

Her companions looked at her with wonderment.

“He’s not gonna sit on my head and…?”

“No, you dope. Raj is gonna follow you around offering advice and marijuana. Just… roll with it.”

Taylor left them to it, satisfied that she’d put out at least one of the fires she and Diego had unleashed. By the time she returned to the atrium, though, Zahra and Craig were long gone, and Grace was nowhere to be found either.

  Estela had tracked Furball all around the lower floor of the hotel, getting close only to have him shoot out icicles defensively the second he felt she was too close to getting hold of his new toy. Furball was quick, and Estela’s new body was unfortunately, rather a downgrade in the physical fitness department, and not nearly as agile as what she was used to. Finding herself out of breath, the little fox seemed to find it all a great game, throwing out streaks of ice as he gambolled through the Celestial. Estela was patient, though. If the fox kept that up, he’d soon become dehydrated; she’d just keep on his tail until he could no longer put up a fight. It was simple, or at least it would be if she could just be left to get the job done.

“Grace?” Aleister called from the lobby. “Are you coming for breakfast?”

Wincing, Estela cursed her own misfortune. Of all the people the damn fox could have switched her with… and, of course, Furball was trotting right towards the sound of the voice. Little shit.

Aleister’s face brightened as he laid eyes on Estela. “Ah, there you are, my dear-”

“I’m busy.”

Taken aback by her abruptness, he immediately became concerned. “Anything I can help w-“

“No.”

As Grace came into the room, it occurred to Estela that she might not appreciate outright hostility towards her lover. Her gaze pointedly averted from her brother’s simpering one, Estela at least made an effort.

“You should… go enjoy… breakfast. Sweetheart.” Feeling as though she might throw up, she turned to see a most horrifically sappy expression on her own face. She shuddered. If the experience had been creepy before, this was something else…

A hand touched her arm, and she impulsively swung a fist round, colliding with Aleister’s startled face.

“I said ‘go’!”

He ran.

“Estela, you can’t just hit him!”

“Sometimes, you’ve gotta be cruel to be kind. I think all three of us will be less traumatised by this fiasco if I can make him stay away. I do not need him trying to stick his tongue down my throat. Besides, it wasn’t as if I could hit him hard, not with these fists.”

With Aleister safely out of the way for the time being, she could resume her pursuit of Furball, now with Grace around to guard potential escape routes.

“Just make sure we don’t lose the fox, and don’t let him get near water. Sooner or later, he’ll give up, and we can fix this. In the meantime, can you please not look at Aleister like that while you’re wearing my face.”

Disturbed by his encounter with ‘his girlfriend’, Aleister wandered towards the restaurant looking appropriately punch-drunk, when he bumped into a rather frazzled Taylor.

“Sorry- could I… borrow you for just a minute?”

“Al, I’m really, really busy. Is it important?”

He scowled. “Do I make a habit of seeking help from you people? Yes, it’s important!”

Taylor raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just… Grace. I’ve done something wrong. I can’t for the life of me think what, but she’s absolutely furious, and it’s something I’ve done. Taylor, she looked at me as if I was a leper…”

“You know, I think Grace is the sort of person who’d be kind to the sick and downtrodden…”

“You’re missing the point! Taylor, you’re skilled at handling… people problems…”

“Okay. Grace isn’t feeling herself today. It’s nothing personal-“

“She punched me in the face.”

“Uh, wrong place, wrong time.” Taylor was not fool enough not to realise that their April Fool’s prank would not appeal to Aleister’s sense of humour… certainly not once he’d been socked in the face by his supposed lover. “This isn’t a good time for her.”

A lightbulb appeared to go off in Aleister’s head. “Are you saying that this is a… er… delicate… ladies’… issue?”

Eh, that’ll do. Can’t be pinned on me, can’t be blamed on himself. “Yeah… something like that. Just give her a little space.”

“Are you sure? I always thought it was at such a time when attentiveness was…”

“Aleister! I told you, I’m busy. There are, like, five other people in this hotel who you can chat menstruation with. Find one of them- but not Grace. Leave her alone, okay? You’ll thank me for that piece of advice.”

She made a move before he could protest. Jesus Christ on a cracker… Well, at least Diego’s having fun.

Diego was, indeed, having fun. It turned out, making breakfast was a lot less stressful once you’d smoked a couple of joints. If he was to pull off a morning as Raj, he was going to do it properly. Now rather more relaxed, and finding himself singing for no apparent reason, he fried up the eggs, wild mushrooms, and giant La Huerta peccary bacon to near perfection under the guidance of his mentor. For his part, Raj was having a whale of a time now that his imposter was no longer seemingly intent on sabotaging his culinary reputation.

A voice came over the intercom… Taylor’s voice.

“We are experiencing a small crisis situation. All residents, please gather in the restaurant where breakfast will be served as normal. Please don’t freak out- all will be resolved shortly. Just… go eat breakfast.”

“Ohmygod!” Diego cried. “An emergency? We’re all gonna die! This is gonna be our least meal- I can’t handle that kind of pressure!” He took a long drag of his joint, and his expression slackened.

“Maybe this is the end…” Raj put a hand on Diego’s shoulder. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us. And I say we go out in a blaze of breakfast!”

“Did you just Gandalf me?”

“I’m Diego now, of course I Gandalfed you!”

Diego put a hand over his heart, touched. “You are me! And look at this breakfast… I’m you! This is just…” he sniffed… “so beautiful…”

“Aw, dude… you’ve got so much bottled up in here. Worry, anxiety… you need to get it all out! See, this could be the therapy the world always needed. Isn’t that what Freaky Friday’s all about? Improving your relationships and becoming the best you by seeing the world through someone else’s eyes.”

“Holy epiphany Batman! You’re right!” Diego wiped a tear from his eye. “I’m gonna go out there and serve breakfast like the Raj I am.”

Raj sniffed. “I’m so proud… I love you, dude!”

“I love you too, dude!”

When Taylor returned to the kitchen, both men were lying on the floor, watching a fly buzz around above their heads, rapt.

“Er… everyone okay in here?”

“Taylor, I’m better than okay- I’m Raj…” Diego murmured. “…Look how pretty that fly is… It doesn’t have expectations to meet… It’s just doin’ its thing… like a fly… flying… bzzzzzzzzzzzz…”

“Yes. Yes, it is. All right down there, Raj?”

Raj’s eyes crossed as they tried to follow the fly as it landed on his nose. “I understand everything… we all need to escape… whether we’re getting stoned and watching pretty bugs… or getting lost in a fictional world… we’ve gotta escape, my dudes… we’ve all gotta escape…”

“…Wooooow, we really are the same… bzzzzzzzzzz….”

Something told Taylor that neither of them would be much help. “Right,” she said. “Thankfully, everyone who we haven’t brain-zapped is still in the restaurant finishing breakfast. Thank you, by the way. You two make a surprisingly effective team… or, you did… might be too far gone now. But I should be able to wrap up this fiasco with no more unintended participants being dragged in.”

  Furball ran, tripping up over the device that was fast becoming heavy in his small jaws. He skidded out to the poolside and hid in the bushes, Estela hot on his heels, Grace futilely holding out food as a bribe, and Craig following along with interest.

“He’s getting dehydrated- just don’t let him get in the pool-“

Craig’s, or rather Zahra’s eyes grew wide. “Does Furball multiply if he gets wet?”

Estela turned and gave him a look. If there had been any doubt that they’d switched, it was now gone. “Craig, can you grab hold of him? I dunno… pretend he’s a ball or something. That’s what you do, right?”

“I do. But I’m Z now. I feel like I should just stand here with a face like this…” Craig pulled the most exaggerated scowling face he could muster. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll get it all on video… look at me with your best Estela face… yep, just like that!”

Grace, at least, understood the gravity of the situation. “Please, we have to be careful… if Furball drops that in the water, we could be stuck…”

“Grace- Grace! Say ‘Aleister has a sexy ass’ for the camera…”

“No… I- Craig, please don’t antagonise her…”

“What’s she gonna do? She’s in your body. You stole her Ferrari and left her driving a Volvo. I know the feeling… now Z’s got the brawn and the brains… what does that make me…?”

Furball darted out, making a dash for the cover of a deck chair… and heading dangerously close to the water.

“Fuck,” said Estela with Grace’s voice, amusing Craig immensely.

By that point, a curious audience had gathered by the window. Seeing Grace outside, in the midst of an announced crisis, Aleister had no choice but to throw caution to the wind and bring her back to the restaurant -at least until Taylor explained what the hell was going on.

He hurriedly strode over, heading for the person who appeared to be his girlfriend... and ignoring the frantic head-shaking warning from the actual Grace.

“Grace, I…”

“Nope!” Not today, Satan. Estela had had just about enough. She shoved him with all of Grace’s might, sending him flying backwards into the pool.

Fully clothed and utterly bewildered, Aleister hit the water with a colossal splash that brought everyone who hadn’t gathered at the window rushing to watch.

“Chyeeeaaahhh boi!!! Caught! On! Film!” Craig went to high five Grace, but she was too busy rushing to the aid of the unfortunate Aleister.

In the ruckus, Furball bolted- straight into Zahra’s arms… or Craig’s, actually. Startled, the fox dropped the device, and a smug Zahra looked from one panicked face to another.

Taylor burst outside, her eyes round.

Smirking, Zahra inspected her new toy. “C’mere, Craiggers, first thing’s first.”

“Z- I got Grace on video saying ‘fuck’!”

Poor Aleister was still flailing in the water, fighting as Grace tried to pull him up, apparently convinced that ‘Estela’ was trying to drown him.

A few twiddling of buttons, and a bright flash that was visible even in the warm sunshine.

Craig reached down and touched his own chest, dropping the device into Zahra’s waiting hands. “Aw, man, I’m back… Dope trick, Taylor!”

“…Thanks, Craig…” Taylor replied nervously.

Zahra watched with satisfaction as her spectators squirmed. “Yeah… dope trick, Taylor.” She let the device fall to her feet with a metallic clunk. And then she brought her foot down on it, hard.

Grace dropped Aleister unceremoniously back into the water. Taylor gave a strangled yell as Estela looked at her with pure horror. At the window, Raj and Diego cheered… and then Diego went back to doing his fly impression.

“Zahra! Are you out of your mind?”

There was a spluttering sound as Aleister once again tried to haul himself out of the pool. “Will someone please tell me what in the name of sanity is going on?”

Her face a picture of sweet triumph, Zahra dipped her hand into Craig’s jacket pocket, and pulled out a second Freaky Friday device.

“April Fools’, bitches. I won, right?”

  The Freaky Friday Incident would no doubt go down in lore, at least if the buzz that followed was anything to go by. All who contributed to the creation of such chaos were lauded as April Fools’ heroes, and most who’d been ill-effected were now seeing the humour in the situation. Appreciating the genius of the original prank, Zahra bestowed the second device, which she’d found in Rourke’s V.I.P. room after having quizzed Iris, to a still totally stoned Diego.  Craig’s precious video of Aleister being walloped into the pool by ‘Grace’ was playing on almost constant repeat, to the victim’s increasing annoyance. From Aleister, Taylor and an oblivious Diego received a long and thorough ear-bashing.

Finally set free from a tedious and angry lecture on the dangers of such childish pranks, Taylor wandered back to the restaurant, catching the last of her friends as they dispersed. Out of the corner of her eye, she was certain she’d seen Zahra fiddling with the original, broken device while she walked out towards the pool with Craig. She shook it off. The thing was smashed up, caput. Zahra might be a genius, but that machine was beyond repair… wasn’t it?

Taylor’s brief concern was forgotten the second she laid eyes on Estela. Their spot of mischief hadn’t exactly gone to plan, but all was well that ended well.

She ran to her, a broad grin across her face, and took her in her arms with a heady kiss.

“Holy shit, Princess! The hell ya doin?”

Her blood running cold in an instant, Taylor jumped back as if zapped by a bolt of electricity, her hands flying to her face. “Jake?! Ohmygod… holy crap… hooooly crap… I didn’t… oh shit, oh shit…”

Unable to keep a straight face any longer, Estela collapsed into uncontrollable giggles.

“Estela!” Taylor repeatedly smacked her wife over the head as she cried with laughter. Slowly, her body recovered from the shock, and she almost saw the funny side. “There’s a special place in hell for people like you! I think I almost had a heart attack…”

Estela slid onto the floor, clutching her sides and clearly not remotely sorry. This, Taylor supposed, was fair payback for dragging her into the whole mess to begin with. With her heartrate recovering, she began to laugh, and took her lover in her arms.

“When did you learn to do a southern accent, anyway?”

Estela wiped her eyes, high on the simple feeling of being back to normal… and no longer having to look at herself making goo-goo eyes at Aleister. She peppered Taylor’s face with kisses. “To see that look on your face? You’d be amazed what I could do.”

Shaking her head; relieved and only a little exasperated, Taylor made a show of studying Estela’s face carefully. “You’re you?”

“I’m me. And I’m confiscating Diego’s toy and throwing it in the volcano. Never again…”

Taylor giggled and hugged her. “Do it now, while Diego’s still high as a kite.”

“Or…” Estela ran a finger slowly up her wife’s thigh. “you can start working off that debt you owe me for helping you with all this Freaky Friday nonsense. My fees are high -especially after Aleister started following me around with heart eyes. But… I figured you wouldn’t mind paying in instalments?”

“Just one thing... “

“Hmmm?”

“If you do another Jake impersonation while you’ve got your head between my legs, I swear I will divorce your ass.”

With a snort, Estela doubled over once more, before coming up to peck a kiss to Taylor’s nose. “You’ve got a deal, mi amor.”

[thesilverdreamer]

Reasons To Not Leave Demonic Spellbooks Laying Around

A brief fic I wrote some months ago taking place in @star-going-supernova‘s Inky Eyes Golden Heart AU. Henry comes back from lunch to find that there’s something very wrong in the studio, starting with his fellow employees laying unconscious on the floor, and continuing to the trail of blood leading from Joey’s office down to the basement.

I try not to comment on my own writing, but I feel I should mention that I wrote this back in January then forgot about it, so there’s some aspects that aren’t quite in line with what Star has since established about the IEGH-verse. Nevertheless, I’m here for the character interactions :)

A quick lunch turned into an hour long detour keeping a kid from trying to wreak demonic vengeance on their bullies, but Henry was pretty sure Joey wouldn’t be too upset since he was the one who insisted Henry take a lunch. Probably.

All thought of how Joey would react fled from Henry’s head as he entered the studio, and felt a sensation like a bucket of cold water poured over his head.

“What in the world?” he said quietly, stepping slowly into the studio.

Henry nearly tripped over the next sign that something was wrong; not only the front receptionist, but he realized as he looked in the direction of the animation department and spotted a couple of scenery artists, they had all passed out on the floor, sleeping in the middle of the day.

No, he realized, as he tried to wake Sherry, the receptionist, and got no reaction. Not asleep—unconscious.

She wasn’t the only one. The artists, too, and the rest of the animators, all unconscious at their desks. The same was true in the administrative department, every last employee was dead to the world.

It didn’t take long for Henry to realize that Joey was nowhere to be found. It took even less time for him to find the trail of blood leading out of Joey’s office. The blood led him to the main stairwell, and Henry descended silently, down, down to the basement. Once, it had been the site of strange and supernatural rituals, but these days it was mostly just storage.

The door to the basement had been blown inward, completely off the hinges. Henry quietly rolled up his sleeves.

“Well, well, well, it finally shows up.”

Henry’s lip curled as he rounded the corner, and his heart skipped a beat.

Across the room, there stood Sammy Lawrence, old Norman the projectionist, and lovely Susie Campbell. Their eyes, iris, sclera, and all had turned completely black, but Henry could still feel their eyes on him. Far more important was his best friend Joey Drew on the floor at Sammy’s feet, beaten and bloody, but somehow still conscious, visibly trembling.

Sammy held up a black book that Henry knew too well. “Really shouldn’t keep this stuff lying around, you know. All it takes is one little accident, a spilled drop of blood on the wrong page; normally I’d ignore some idiot human not even looking for a deal, but then, oh, when I got a whiff of your scent? I just couldn’t resist the chance to ruin your day, and neither could my friends here.”

Henry was very quiet as he said, “I will give you one chance to release the humans you are possessing and leave this place.”

“See, that’s your problem!” Sammy, or rather, the demon possessing Sammy Lawrence said. “You’re so attached to these humans—and instead of taking their souls, you make the most worthless ‘deals’ with them.”

Sammy used his foot to put Joey on his back and stomped on Joey’s hand so hard you could hear the bones breaking. Henry felt sick.

“What’s the name you use?” Sammy said with mocking curiosity. “It’s something extraordinarily dull...”

Joey had twisted himself to look over, and his voice was far too weak as he said, “P-please, Henry...h-help—“ Sammy casually put a foot on Joey’s head and started putting weight on it, and Joey groaned in pain.

“Henry! That’s it, Henry. So, here’s the way it’s gonna go, ‘Henry,’” Sammy said. “You’re going to take your punishment without complaint, and never make another deal in this city. Or, we’ll kill your pet human.” Sammy grinned unnaturally wide as he added, “Painfully.”

If Henry submitted, odds were good that not only would the rest of the staff be as good as dead, not only would Sammy, Norman, and Susie be used as vessels until their bodies broke from the abuse, and not only would a lot of people lose their souls without Henry making petty deals with them—but the demon possessing Sammy would certainly kill Joey, and Henry had lived through far too much for his best friend to die at the hands of some bottom-feeder trash.

“Well, pipsqueak?” Sammy said.

Henry paused, and then, he said like an overconfident high-schooler, “How about you come say that to my face?”

Sammy bristled. “You’re just as stupid as these humans, aren’t you?” He stepped over Joey, his flunkies moving with him.

And right as he passed under a vent, there was a light thunk, the vent came open, and Bendy dropped out beautifully right on Sammy’s head.

“Guess who!” Bendy yelled, putting his hands over Sammy’s eyes and holding on tight as Sammy flailed around trying to shake him off, roaring in indignation. “Now!”

Alice came leaping down from the top of a shelf, and Boris burst out of a box (one that was surely too small for him to fit) in a shower of packing peanuts. Alice grabbed her halo, stretched it out, and dropped it over Susie; with a swift yank, the halo shrunk, pinning Susie’s arms to her sides. Boris came up behind Norman and pulled his pants down to his ankles with a snicker. The old projectionist stumbled back, fell over, and landed on his bottom.

(Henry always loved his Toons like they were his own children, but he was particularly proud of them then, even as he was terrified to see them throwing themselves into danger; for god’s sake when felt the pulse of a faint demonic aura centered on the ceiling vent, he expected a water balloon, not a kamikaze attack.)

Alice and Boris got well out of the way, and Henry was moving then. Memorized Latin words spilled from his lips, and dark wisps of smoke pearled off his face. He grabbed Susie by the shoulder and forced her to the floor. Susie screamed obscenity, only to go silent as a cloud of black smoke was expelled from her mouth and nose and eyes. The cloud of smoke dropped through the floor leaving a charred mark, and Susie went limp.

Norman was starting to get a handle on himself, pulling his pants back on and getting to his feet, but not nearly fast enough. The demon had started a mantra that rang in Henry’s ears, but Henry’s continued chant drowned it out. Henry grabbed Norman by the front of his shirt, and the black smoke poured from his mouth, his eyes returned to normal, and Henry lowered Norman to the floor as the old man passed out.

Just then Sammy finally got a grip on Bendy’s arm and yanked the little demon off. “Why you little, I’ll deal with you later!” He threw Bendy like he weighed nothing, but Henry caught Bendy out of the air.

“I gotcha!” Henry said, as he moved Bendy to hold him with one arm. Bendy grabbed onto his shirt to keep from falling.

“When I get through with you, you’ll wish—“ was as far as the demon got, before Henry grabbed him by the lower half of his face.

Violet cracks like tear tracks had opened in Henry’s face. He wasn’t smiling. “Be quiet already. Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus...”

Sammy seemed to be having a seizure, shaking with his eyes rolling back in his head, skin going pale. It almost was like a cartoon when Henry pushed Sammy away and left the smoke cloud hanging in the air. Sammy hit the floor, and the demonic essence dropped, through the floorboards and straight back to whence it came.

In an instant, Henry was once more only human, pulling a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ,” he swore.

“Don’t think he’s got anythin’ to do with this,” Bendy said. Henry moved him around, holding Bendy under the arms and bringing him to eye level.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt? The exorcism didn’t affect you, did it?”

Bendy shook his head. “I’m just fine, Henry! It’s Joey you should be worried about!”

“Joey!” Henry said, like he had forgotten. He set Bendy down and crossed the room in an instant, to where Joey was laying on the floor.

Joey was not looking great. He seemed to be covered in his own blood, he wasn’t quite lucid, but his eyes were open. Nothing Henry couldn’t fix, but no less horrifying to see.

Henry turned Joey onto his back and supported his head with his hand. “Alright, we’re alright, Joey? Joey, listen to me, if you can hear me, I’m going to heal you, but the first round’s on you, alright?” Henry said. Joey’s head lolled forward, and it was a stretch but Henry took it as a yes.

Henry pressed a hand to Joey’s sternum, and Joey’s body started pulling back together. Henry, of course, was well used to the sound of bones moving back in place, to seeing blood dry and turn to dust in an instant, to bleeding wounds stemming the flow and closing themselves with spiderweb-like strands of tissue stretched between the edges. That didn’t mean the Toons were as unflappable as he, and he hoped they would never need to become used to the messy process of healing a broken human body. They were giving Henry some space as he worked magick.

It seemed to take an eternity, but it was less than a minute before Joey was breathing without struggle, and then he came to life all at once, jerking upward and smacking his forehead into Henry’s, and both men reeled from the impact. Joey rubbed at his stinging forehead from where he laid. “Ow.”

“‘Ow?’” Henry said incredulously, as he made sure his nose wasn’t broken. “You get the stuffing beat out of you, and it’s the headbutt that makes you complain?”

“Well—I might have complained more, but I think Sammy broke my jaw when he jumped me,” Joey shot back. His eyes went wide in realization. “Sammy, wait, oh god—“

“Like He has anything to do with it,” Henry murmured.

“—what happened? I couldn’t, I heard them fall down,” Joey said, growing panicked as he tried to pick himself up and twisted around to look for his fallen employees.

Henry put a hand on Joey’s shoulder, to calm him and to keep him from hurting himself. “They should be fine, I exorcised the demons possessing them. The same should go for everyone upstairs, the auras must have knocked them out, but if they were hurt I can—“

A hand pulled at Henry’s sleeve. Alice was standing there, hesitant but concerned. She was trembling.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Henry said gently. No sooner had he opened his arms than Alice rushed forward into them, grabbing Henry like she never wanted to let go. “Shhh, we’re all okay.”

Bendy squeezed into Henry’s arms, too, and Boris wrapped up everyone, Henry, Bendy, Alice, and Joey in a great embrace.

“The bad guys are gone, everyone’s safe now,” Henry said. “Oof, you three, you were great, but—“ And he pulled back so he could actually look his Toons in the eyes. “Please, never do anything that dangerous ever again, you just about gave me a heart attack, you know that?”

Alice smiled a little as she wiped at her eyes. “Sorry, Henry, but it was all Bendy’s idea.”

“C’mon, Al!” Bendy protested. “Asides, I didn’t know what else to do!”

Joey supplied, “Could always sit there jaw dangling in shock until you get beaten bloody. Oh, no, that was me.” He winced at a sharp pain in his ribs.

“Are you okay?” Henry said quickly, putting a hand on Joey’s shoulder. He was like a concerned mother hen. “Did I miss something?”

“No, no, at least I don’t think so, just sore.”

“Hell, Joey, I thought for sure you and your dabbling were the biggest threats to the studio, I didn’t think anything like this could happen. My wards must have run out and I lost track of them, I’m so sorry.”

Joey just waved him off. “It’s not your fault at all, you aren’t the one who tried to kick my ribs in. But Henry’s right about you three,” he said, and redirected attention back to the Toons. “I, well, however it was that you weren’t knocked out, anything like this happens again and Henry isn’t here to save us humans’ skins, you get out of the studio straightaway, any other problems with people seeing you can be dealt with later. You get out, and you find Henry.”

Joey started pushing himself up, groaning with exertion, and Henry was quickly beside him giving him a hand, supporting him when he stumbled. “Maybe I should ‘dabble’ a little more in practical things, hm?”

“Yeah, and risk you exorcising me on accident?” Henry said. He clapped Joey on the shoulder. “Stick to plants, Joey.”

“I thought you couldn’t be exorcised, you don’t carry any sin, right?”

“If anyone could find a way, it would be you, on accident, probably turning yourself into a baked good in the process. Come on, better make sure Sam doesn’t have a concussion.”

Joey shook his head. “Right, right. So, hold on, you said something about I buy the first round? Was that a Deal?”

“Eeyup, helps with the, uh, bigger stuff.” Henry nudged Sammy with his foot as Boris helped Norman up.

“So, then, what would happen if I didn’t hold up my end of the deal, stiff you on the drinks?”

“You’d die,” Henry said casually.

Joey laughed. “Very funny. I—“ Henry just looked at him, raising a brow as though asking a question. “You...were joking, right?” Henry shrugged and turned away. “Henry! That’s not funny, Henry!”

[estyrian]

First Glance: The Dwarvish Races of Estyria

Populating a broad swathe of mountainous territory that spans central Merathis and bisects the continent into its northern and southern half, the dwarvish races of Estyria are a proud and ancient people who accredit their creation to the primordials that shaped the earth long before the arrival of the gods. They consider themselves brothers and sisters to the natural phenomenon of the world and are often inclined toward nature revering paths and careers. They believe it is their natural destiny to excavate the earth in deep, winding tunnels, the paths of which are often determined by seers and sages listening to the voice of the Vaultfather -- a slumbering primordial who awaits their arrival at the center of the world.

The capital of dwarvish society lies beneath a massive, naturally occurring crystalline spire, the rocky formations at its base carved into caverns and passageways that descend deep into the earth below. Their ruling government is a traditional monarchy ruled over by a king and inherited by his descendants upon his death. There has not been a change in the ruling blood line for generations.

The dwarvish people are generally a very spiritual people, though they revere elementals and tangible forces of nature more than otherworldly, divine beings. It is customary to bring the deceased to the capital upon their death in a funeral march that includes family and close friends. These marches tend to be surprisingly celebratory, wishing the recently deceased good tidings as they return to the earth. Upon arrival at the capital, the march is received by a gathering of priests and the corpse is carried into a sacred unlit cavern where only the initiated are permitted to tread. Within three days, the deceased dwarf’s crystals will be returned to their family.

SUBRACE ONE: The Spiregard Dwarves The most common subrace of dwarves and by far the most populous, these dwarves are the ones most often involved in the affairs of other races. They are known for being a practical and hardy people with an unflappable stubborn streak. Spiregard dwarves stand at roughly four feet in height and typically have stout, powerful bodies. Their hair tends to be coarse and thick and the men of the race boast huge, decorated beards. Crystals naturally sprout from a dwarf’s skin, commonly grown upon the brow, jaw, shoulders or spine. These crystals can be of any color and continue to grow throughout the dwarf’s life, sometimes sprouting additional clusters as they reach a venerable age. The color of a dwarf’s crystal influences their skin tone, eye color and hair color, causing color variations in Spiregard dwarves to range across every imaginable hue. For example, an amethyst-touched Spiregard dwarf may have deep purple hair, stormy gray eyes and pale skin to compliment the violet crystal points growing from their skin. These crystals are commonly retained after death and used to create beautiful memorials and arrangements honoring the deceased.

SUBRACE TWO: Drakenforged Dwarves The drakenforged dwarves came into existence after The Web Blight, a hundred year war that nearly exterminated the drow and permanently removed them from the Underdark. The Web Blight was incited by an unforeseen alliance between five dwarven houses and a collection of ancient purple dragons, both of which sought to remove the evils of the drow from the depths of the earth. Upon their victory, the dragons made good on the promise of wealth and power they had used to coerce the dwarves to march against the drow. They gifted each of the five dwarven houses with orbs (later dubbed the Dornari) that had been infused with a fragment of both their ancient magic and their spirit. Touching a Dornari causes a dwarf to undergo a radical physical transformation and develop minor magical qualities. While political turmoil has caused each of the five houses to develop their own unique way of sharing this blessing, all transformed Drakenforged dwarves share the following attributes. Drakenforged dwarves stand closer to five feet than their shorter Spiregard cousins and have leaner builds. Their eyes are a vivid blue with a thin slitted pupil. Purple scales are present upon their extremities (typically covering the back of the hands and feet at minimum), and across their backs and shoulders. Their hair may retain its original color, but it is often softer and tamer. They retain their crystals, but they do not grow and are not revered as highly as those of the Spiregard dwarves. Drakenforged dwarves are known to be arrogant and judgmental even to their dwarvish cousins, seeing themselves as the premier race of dwarves. They are notably less spiritual and are known to be especially greedy and materialistic.

SUBRACE THREE: Foraldros Dwarves Foraldros translates to “orphan” in the dwarvish tongue and has been used as a namesake for the strange undead dwarves that occasionally appear just beyond the capital spire. These dwarves appear with no recollection of their life or how they came to be in the mountain range, depending on their living cousins to acclimate them to a society they know nothing about. Unfortunately, many of the Spiregard dwarves regard these undead as bad omens and outcasts, causing many unclaimed Foraldros to travel as homeless vagabonds and shunned outsiders. For this reason, Foraldros dwarves are commonly found as mercenaries and sellswords, traveling the world in search of purpose and meals to sate their unnatural thirst for blood. Foraldros dwarves resemble the Spireforge dwarves in height, however their decayed bodies tend to appear slimmer and malnourished. The whites of their eyes have turned black and their iris tends to be red, white or gray. Their ears are large and pointed, closer to a goblin than a dwarf, and their noses are upturned like a bat’s. Small claws sprout in place of their fingernails and toenails. They do not have crystals growing on any part of their bodies. Color variations in Foraldros dwarves are as varied as the Spireforge, however they are much more muted and desaturated. For example, a Foraldros who may have been touched by rubies in life would no longer have bright red hair but a dull maroon instead.

[writesby]

Unityverse Characters

Aithne: Fairy Book, mixed-species fae, uncertain magical properties, cis woman, bi, 24, her anxiety disorder has an anxiety disorder

Alexei Novak: Duch Puszczy, human, non-magical, true sight, genderfluid, male-presenting, pan, 22, huge slut

Anastazja: Koschei, half-human half-something else, magical, cis female, bi, 24, restless

Angela Villanueva: Antichrist Novel, half-human half-satan, untold magical antichrist powers, cis girl, bi, 14, does not know what's happening right now

Breannain: Fairy Book, Kelpie and Unicorn, fairy magics, genderfluid, male-presenting, bi, 21, stress levels are over 9000

Britney Hernandez: Mermaid Book, human, non-magical, cis girl, lesbian, butch, 16, bipolar, has a Shark Brain in that if she doesn't keep it moving it Dies

Brian Ryan: Antichrist Novel, human, non-magical as it gets, cis boy, heteroflexible, 14, cinnamon roll too pure too good for this world

Chelsea Romano: Mermaid Book, changeling, cis girl, bi as fuck, 16, epilepsy and psychosis, wheelie, she looks like someone who listens to the Mountain Goats and won't shut up about it

Dark: Ghost Book, eldritch being, genderless, female presenting, pan I guess???, immortal and ageless, very very angry

Demetria Noche: Witch Book, human witch, witch, cis female, mostly straight but technically bi, 18, calculating and precise

Gail Reed: Mermaid Book, human with distant mer ancestry, semi-magical, cis female, mostly gay, 15, neurotic mess

Georgianna Mazur: Duch Puszczy, almost entirely human, semi-magical, half sight, cis woman, butch, lesbian, 25, doesn't know why she even fucking bothers

Ginger Gillespie: Witch Book, human witch, witch, cis girl, bi as hell, 18, zero impulse control and no filter

Gretel Zielinski: Duch Puszczy, human, slight magical affinity, spiritually sensitive, trans woman, female-presenting, bi, 22, her internal dialogue is just constant screaming

Iris Reis: Werewolf Book, human, non-magical, cis girl, gnc, mostly gay, 15, adhd as fuck, mega weaboo video game addict who doesn't know how to shut the fuck up

Jen Cooper: Ghost Book, human, non-magical, cis woman, gnc, lesbian, 25, is completely out of fucks to give

Jocelyn Raven: Witch Book, human witch, witch, cis girl, questioning, 13, quiet and very cautious

Kazimiera Dombrowski: Duch Puszczy, half-human half-fae, gnc slash questioning afab woman, lesbian, 23, wishes she was at home right now

Kikiaina: Crystallize, chaos/nature god, magical as FUCK, female, pan as hell, immortal and ageless, impulsive as hell and horny on main

Lily Lee: Werewolf Book, human, cis girl, who even knows, 15, very determined and also a health nut

Maia Gonzalez: Witch Book, human witch, witch, genderfluid, pan, 15, upbeat and unflappable

Meredith Elwood: Antichrist Novel, human witch, witch, cis girl, aroace, 14, tired is just a part of her personality at this point

Noh: Mermaid book, mermaid, mermaid magics? idk, mermaid, lesbian, 15, constantly has her head in the clouds

Pavel Dombrowski: Duch Puszczy, half-human half-fae, magical, trans man, bi, 23, adhd, has no idea what he's doing

Radu Mazur: Duch Puszczy, almost entirely human, semi-magical, genderfluid, pan as fuck, 24, adhd, didn't hear what you just said

Rhiannon Elwood: Antichrist Novel, human witch, witch, cis girl, lesbian, 13, space cadet

Rose Reis: Werewolf Book, human, trans girl, uncertain, 17, impulsive and loudmouthed but also very anxious and sensitive

Shasta Greene: Werewolf Book, werewolf, werewolf powers, mostly agender trans girl, hasn't figured it out yet, 14, very shy

Willow Gillespie: Witch Book, human, non-magical, trans girl, ace, 14, sad and angry and frustrated and desperate to prove herself