#no changes to the story. just reanimate the thing and leave the rest alone and youd make easy money just the same

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp." 

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable." 

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 

 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 

Not until it had its fun with you.

[electrosweaters-arts]

Question!

Is Victor in the cryptid college universe? What’s he like, if he is?

Victor IS in CC! In fact, he's already appeared in two pages during the prologue

He's kinda a silly little guy but I'm going to PREFACE real quick by saying: Victor in CC is probably the MOST canon-divergent in terms of personality you're gonna get in CC, at least depending on your interpretations of the OG book characters, but he's pretty different from how either of us actually view him in the book.

CC Victor isn't an exactly an evil mad scientist trope or anything (being a mad scientist in CC is basically like being a mathletes nerd but a bunch of you keep dropping random children off at other peoples houses) but he's just a bit of a general asshole, SPECIFICALLY because placing him in a modern college where EVERYONE is a monster changes who the character is a Lot. A lot of his base traits come from the book, but amplified as a parody like we do with all the CC characters (so yes he does get tropey on purpose) + some changes based on how being in a monster college changes his and the creature's story.

While not uncommon for mad scientists in this universe, he's pretty self-centered, he believes himself to be the superior scientist of his class and can often be rude and dismissive of other students' work. (Though he IS actually incredibly good at what he does, he's top 3 in the class and would most likely be #1 if Griffin didn't have a grading bias towards experiments that can help him with world domination)

(going to be using some LOVELY sketches from @internetwerewolf now <3 theyre the person currently drawing episode 1 of CC <3)

Also, before I forget to mention! CC victor is gay and autistic and both he AND both of the creatures have chronic illnesses that leave them with a lot of joint pain. Their illnesses are based off my own so since *I* don't have a medical diagnosis for my joint issues I can't put an exact name to what they have but ???? maybe Fibromyalgia? again, can't put a name to it but their joints are stiff and HURTY. Adam and Victor's symptoms usually manifest in more invisible ways, from time to time they will need a mobility aid of some sort but most days they get by with painkillers and compression-wear. (Mary almost always uses a crutch or a cane and from time to time will use a wheelchair)

And oh right, the creatures! Let's talk about the creatures, I'd say they're pretty important to Victor's character, wouldn't you? (^another @internetwerewolf doodle of Adam and Mary at Victor's dissertation)

Starting with Adam, Victor made Adam in his first semester of Freshman year at CCU (if you don't know, the school Oracle acts as the head of admissions for the school and is particularly in charge of inviting new mad scientists to the school, which is why characters like Victor or Jekyll were accepted and allowed to know about monsters before having made their experiments themselves, the Oracle knew that they would make them eventually) his reasons for creating and then abandoning the creature are mostly the same as in the book, the death of his mother gave him a fascination with restoring life to the dead but once he actually gave life to the creature he was horrified an ran out on it. Adam was left in Victor's dorm room alone for about 3 weeks before being found by an RA and due to school policy on mad science experiments he was given free room and board for the course of his college degree, he was also taught english directly from classes at the school and found a copy of Paradise Lost among Victor's old things, which gave him the idea for the name Adam.

Adam never actually killed anyone in CC, but he DID ask Victor to make him a family member. He was incredibly lonely from being unable to connect with any of the other students and wanted someone like him, Victor obliged before he and Adam got into an argument which ended with him partially destroying the other creature and leaving Adam to do the rest of the reanimating work himself. (This is why Mary is not quite made right, the stitching on her limbs is very loose and she's missing an eye)

The creatures' and Victor's overall relationship is rocky at BEST, most days they can't STAND each other and squabble any time they pass each other in the halls. Though Victor's family is all still alive AND Adam got his second creature so from time to time they can get along, if a topic in interesting enough for both of them Adam and Victor can hold a conversation for a few hours, and they will sometimes help Victor out if provided a good enough reason to. Mary's less likely to talk to Victor but that's mostly because she just...doesn't like talking to people. They treat him like a shitty dad, and as seen in the prologue they DO like to rough him up a bit from time to time for fun but they wouldn't ever really want to KILL him. (Hyde would. Hyde wants to kill him. Adam has to hold him back from it.)

This was WAY longer than I expected, kinda incoherent, feel free to ask any follow up questions if you'd like! I LOVE talkin about these guys :3

[giftofwonder]

The Tomb (Dabi x f!Reader) - Part Six

A/N: As always, thank you all for the love and support. I appreciate all of your feedback and hope you like this part. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, just let me know!

WARNINGS: Cursing/Swearing

TAGLIST: @mikasackrmann @missalicebaskerville @liitlesushi @bonemarroww @winchescumberholland @mira-mirach @babayaga67 @iiashleysykes @orenjineki @badbitchfor2dmen @tsukki-uwwu @jamaisvusbitch

Christmas was two weeks away, so you spent much of your time teaching Dabi about your world, hoping that when he was around your family, nothing would seem amiss. You figured everything would be fine as long as he had a general understanding of most things, though you doubted they’d believe he was a reanimated corpse from ancient times, anyways.

He had handled himself just fine with your team at work, even befriending a few of them. However, the topics that were brought up mainly revolved around the tomb or daily life, and Dabi at least was a bit more familiar with the culture there than here.

Your story would be that he worked on your team and was rather new. He had a vast knowledge on the ancient times, and so you had met while calling him in to help deciphering artifacts and old text.

By this point, he had a decent enough inventory of topics he could speak on fairly well. It wasn’t great, but your parents only knew the basics of conversation in the language, so hopefully you could pass it off as communication errors and use the excuse of language barriers to translate for him.

In the meantime, though, you tried to teach him as quickly as you could. Television helped a lot, he spent a good amount of time flipping through channels and trying to absorb what he saw, asking questions as he went.

While he did that, you kept yourself busy buying him Christmas presents. You had explained the holiday to him, and he had seemed happy about it, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to reciprocate much. You had stashed the gifts for him in your spare room, excited for his first Christmas.

You let him decorate the house with you, and you were glad to see him having fun with it. You had been very entertained when you plopped a Santa hat on his head and he looked in the mirror, seeming almost offended by it. But moments later, he was running around the house with it on, continuing the tasks you had given him without a care in the world. He had even thrown out a “Ho ho ho!” when he brought you garland from the other room, but he had stomped away, his face flushed, when you had doubled over laughing at the unexpected catchphrase.

On Christmas Eve, you had dressed him up in warm clothes and dragged him from the house and into town. Dabi was adjusted to the cold from the desert nights, but he was still thankful for the warm layers you wrapped him in.

He hid the bottom of his face in a scarf, the rest of his damaged skin covered other than under his eyes. He felt better that way. When he was alone with you, he felt confident. You looked at him like he was perfect. Flawless. But the stares he got when he left the house made him uncomfortable. It wasn’t fear like he had become accustomed to, but rather pity and sadness. He hated it.

You led him to a horse drawn carriage they had set up in the town square. Since it was Christmas Eve, it wasn’t too busy out, and you were thankful to be able to get in quickly.

You climbed in first and Dabi made himself comfortable at your side, his arm wrapping behind your back to hold you close to him. He thought the small lights that decorated the trees were beautiful, making them look like they were full of stars, as was the pond that reflected them, that the carriage circled. He had never felt so relaxed. He spent his whole life fighting to survive, but the time you were in seemed like it held no real threats or danger.

The society he remembered had crumbled and the world had moved on. It satisfied him to know there had been change.

As the ride came to an end, Dabi got out and helped you down. You held hands as you pulled him over near a small cafe stand and grabbed you both some hot chocolate. You had learned that Dabi loved it, and aside from wine, it was a very requested drink with him.

You passed by small shops in the town square, Dabi was looking at the world around you while you window-shopped. You had finished all of your shopping, and the food to bring to your brothers for Christmas dinner was already made.

You felt Dabi still and his grip tightened on your hand. Your attention was dragged away from the shop windows and you saw his eyes wide in amazement.

You followed his gaze to see what had surprised him when you began cheering, excitement bursting though you.

“Look Dabi! It’s snowing!” You exclaimed while throwing your hands up, all but skipping out into the snow and giving a little twirl.

Dabi laughed at your childlike behavior, but followed you out from the covers hanging over the store fronts to feel the snow on his skin. He held his hands out, feeling the frozen droplets against his warm palms. You hummed as you spun around, your tongue peeking out to catch the snowflakes on it, and Dabi felt his chest tighten, something he noticed would happen now almost every time he looked at you. You stopped spinning and your eyes landed on him, bright with mirth, as you grinned.

Dabi wasn’t very sentimental, really. He had very few times in his life that he would consider carefree. However, these small moments with you, full of joy and warmth, he would forever keep in his heart.

You ran to him and hugged him, pressing against him as you babbled on about luck and a white christmas. While he wasn’t completely sure of what you meant, he could see that you were happy, so he figured it must be good.

You finished the walk home, getting inside and tugging off your coat to replace it with a soft knit blanket that you threw over both you and Dabi as you sat together on your sofa. The silence was comfortable, and you relaxed into his side just enjoying being with him, until you glanced up and saw the clock on your wall. You decided that you had waited long enough.

“Hey Dabi, you remember how I told you that you give gifts on Christmas?” You asked, and he nodded.

“Okay, good! I’ll be right back, you wait here!” You said giggling as you flung the blanket off of you and sprang up from the couch to run upstairs.

Dabi sat, still cozy underneath your blanket, waiting for you. A few moments later, he watched you come back down the stairs, pretty and colorful bags filling your hands. You sat them on the ground at his feet. His eyes were wide as he realized all of these were the ‘presents’ you had mentioned, and that they were probably all for him. His eyes flicked to your reddened face.

“Is it too much? It’s too much, isn’t it?” You groaned, your hands cupping your cheeks in embarrassment.

Dabi shook his head at you, a smile reaching his lips that he couldn’t stop.

“Is this...all for me?” He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You nodded eagerly, pulling gifts from the bag to sit beside him and push into his hands.

You watched him as he held the gifts, twisting and turning them in his hold, admiring the paper and ribbons that decorated them. You had definitely went a bit overboard, but your family didn’t exchange presents, so you weren’t too concerned with the cost. Beyond that, it was Dabi’s first Christmas and you wanted him to have a good time. He didn’t have a lot of possessions, coming to your world with nothing, and he usually wasn’t overly accepting of gifts on a normal basis. You had tried many times to get him to pick things out for himself, but he would always shrug it off, saying he was fine. He only really asked for things he needed, and those requests were rare. But this was a holiday, an occasion where you were meant to give and receive. Surely, he would allow you to spoil him just this once.

He started opening the gifts, working his way through the pile, holding each item delicately as if it were porcelain.

At the end, you took and discarded all of the wrapping paper, taking it to your trash can in the kitchen. When you turned around, you found Dabi standing close behind you.

“Did I do okay? Do you like them?” You asked hopeful, but nervous.

Dabi pulled you to him and kissed you deeply. His hands held you firm against him, the action warming your heart and making your stomach flutter.

He pulled back slightly to whisper a “yes” and “thank you” against your lips before leaning in again.

You hoped the dinner with your family would go just as smoothly.

__________________________________________

The next morning, you woke up alone. You rubbed your eyes and groaned, pushing yourself out of bed and going to search for Dabi.

You found him at your kitchen table, hunched over, blocking whatever he was doing from your view.

“Good morning.” You mumbled, walking closer as his head whipped up to look at you over his shoulder.

“Stay there.” He demanded and faced forward again.

You were too groggy to argue, holding up your hands in defeat as you leaned against the door frame, watching his back as you yawned.

A few minutes later, he stepped to the side and turned to stare at your face. He looked apprehensive but excited, and you held a poker face as you stared at a torn up trash bag, some scraps of wrapping paper, and a discarded bow in a pile on the table.

You looked at him, but his expression hadn’t shifted, other than the small hint of worry that had appeared.

You looked back at the table and stepped forward, glancing down at the mess and furrowed you’re brow, the gears turning in your half asleep and foggy mind. Was this...a present?

You looked to him from the side and then reached for the gift, pulling the pile apart. You found one of your picture frames face down on the table, but when you picked it up and turned it towards you, you saw he had replaced it with a photo that you two had taken shortly before leaving the excavation sight.

It was a picture of you sitting on the steps of the tomb. You were laughing, with Dabi behind you, his arms around your waist and his chin plopped on top of your head, shooting a goofy grin at the camera.

Your gaze softened at it and your thumb stroked the glass over his face as you smiled gently. Dabi sighed in relief at your reaction, the tension leaving his shoulders as he relaxed, glad that you were happy with it.

He didn’t go into town without you. Between too many unfamiliar things and the language barrier, it would be too hard for him he figured, but after you had given him so much last night, he wanted to give you something in return.

One of the diggers you worked with had developed the photo and given it to him on the day of your departure, and he had held onto it, waiting for a good time to give it to you.

You turned to him, pulling him into a hug as your head rested against his chest, holding him tight in your embrace. You leaned up to kiss his nose, and then brushed your lips across his cheek.

“Thank you, I love it.” You whispered in his ear, and he felt his heart speed up as blood rushed to his cheeks. He closed his eyes, pressing himself tighter against you. His nose burrowed in the crook of your neck, and he kissed your skin softly.

__________________________________________

Soon you were both getting ready, and then loading your car to head to the family dinner.

Dabi noted how sour your mood had become, the way your shoulders were tense as you drove, knuckles white gripping the steering wheel.

“You don’t want to go.” Dabi commented. It didn’t sound like a question, but you answered anyways.

“No. Well, it’s not that. It’s just...weird, I guess. I’m excited to see them, but at the same time, it’s always like I’m an outsider. Which, I get it. I’m gone a lot. But it always just feels awkward. Plus, everyone is coming this year, so I just know something is going to happen. When everyone is under one roof, there’s bound to be at least one argument. Hopefully, this year they get off my back about marriage at least.” You finished with a laugh. Dabi nodded.

“Youll be able to tell them that soon you’ll be my wife.” Dabi agreed, his tone very matter-of-fact, but his words still made you flush.

“Yeah, I can tell them that.” You said softly, your expression tender.

__________________________________________

Dabi was glad when the car finally came to a stop. Driving made him nauseous, and he hated that it was so frequent here in this time.

You grabbed the food from the backseat, and made your way up the street to your brothers house, Dabi following behind. He stood off to the side, nervous hands pulling at his sweater as you knocked on the door. You heard muffled yelling and a second later, your brother answered, throwing open the door to step out and pull you into a hug.

“Well, look who finally decided to come for a visit. About time you got here. Everyone’s inside. Oh, and I brought my friend too, the one from college who always thought you were cute.” He laughed as he pulled back, only then noticing Dabi standing off to your side.

“Oh, uh...who’s this?”

“Dabi, my fiancé.” You smiled, your head tilting to the side as you beamed and your brother choked.

“Your WHAT?” He gawked.

“You heard me, didnt mom tell you I was bringing someone?” You laughed, lifting a brow skeptically.

“No...but I mean...he’s so....really? HIM?” He asked, looking Dabi up and down, his face grimacing.

“Yes, him.” You sneered back, stepping beside Dabi, bracing the food in one hand so the other could reach out and grab his, intertwining your fingers together.

Your brother looked between the two of you before he sighed and rubbed his face. He offered a greeting to Dabi, and you informed your brother about the language barrier. He groaned out a hello so Dabi could understand, and then quickly turned to go inside.

Dabi’s nerves were shot. He couldn’t understand the verbal interaction that had just taken place, but he already knew how it went. The body language and facial expressions were enough to tell him exactly what your brother thought of him, and he anticipated he’d get the same reaction from the rest of your family.

He was torn between wanting to leave before it got worse, and the desire to march you inside and bend you over the table, giving your family a show while rubbing it in their faces that he was who you wanted, just to spite them.

He was torn from his dilemma as you squeezed his hand, your finger rubbing his knuckles in both an apology and an attempt at comfort, as you led him inside. He clenched his jaw, but allowed himself to be pulled along behind you.

The rest of your family greeted you, running up to get hugs and kisses, telling you how much they had missed you and how beautiful you looked. One by one, you saw their expressions falter as they noticed Dabi behind you, all offering similar reactions to the one your brother had given. They were just so rude. So unapologetically rude. You felt the anger stirring in you, but tried to calm it, hoping it was just from shock, but that the rest of the evening would get better.

After the awkward greeting with your family, Dabi had found a seat by himself, and your brothers cat had immediately climbed into his lap. He said he’d be fine while you dropped the food off in the other room, shooing you away while his gaze wandered down to the cat, a lazy grin on his face. You figured it would be okay, as your family seemed content to avoid him, so you gave a weak smile and nod, telling him you’d be right back, before heading out of the room. You made your way to the kitchen, setting the tray of food on the counter. You sighed, trying to force the negativity from you as you took a moment to just breathe. A hand rubbed your back and your head quickly turned, seeing your brothers friend behind you.

“Don’t beat yourself up, babe. It can only get better from here, right?” He offered, his tone nonchalant.

“Hello to you to, Keigo.” You sighed, stepping away from him, trying to put some distance between the two of you.

You folded your arms across your chest as you stared at him, leaning your hip into the counter. You didn’t have anything against him, in fact, he was probably the only friend of your brothers that you had ever gotten along with. But, he was a shameless flirt, and as charming as he could be, you just weren’t in the mood to deal with it right now.

“Your brother didn’t mention you were bringing a date. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little crushed.” He pouted, putting his hand over his heart.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself off the counter and heading for the door.

“Well, guess that’s how it goes. You win some and you lose some, right?” You shrugged. Just as you reached the door, about to push it open, he called out.

“Hey, if you change your mind or your...whatever he is, doesn’t work out,” he started, sauntering up behind you until he was pressed against your back, “just know I’m here.” He finished, his hot breath sweeping across your neck.

“Don’t hold your breath, bird brain.” You scoffed, pushing open the door.

Keigo chuckled behind you, following you out as he muttered the word “feisty”. You held back the urge to roll your eyes again as you made your way over to Dabi.

He looked up and smiled as you approached.

“At least someone here likes me,” he commented as his hand stroked the cat sleeping peacefully in his lap.

__________________________________________

Dinner was tense. Your father and his wife stayed silent for the most part, making offhanded comments to themselves, casting quick glances between you and Dabi.

Your brother and Keigo tried to make small talk with the family, pretty much ignoring Dabi entirely.

Your mother just gawked the whole time at him, flinching every time their eyes met.

Your step father and half-siblings were really the only saving grace.

Your stepfather tried to talk with Dabi using the bits of the language he knew, and what he couldn’t say, he asked you about. How you had met, work, your plans. Dabi was thankful for him. Your half-siblings lacked boundaries, asking Dabi a lot of things he couldn’t understand, but they chatted away to him without a care in the world. When they noticed his confused face, they’d pull imagines up on their phones or try to gesture things to him. He was just as lost, but he’d smile and nod just to get them to continue, welcoming the distraction.

Eventually, Dabi asked to go to the bathroom and you pointed him in the direction. You offered to go with him, but he shook his head, telling you he would be right back.

The second he was gone, everyone’s eyes were on you.

“What?” You asked, your mouth full of mashed potatoes.

“Look, we all know you’ve been away from home, you’re single and lonely, I’m sure. And I know I’ve been pressuring you for a while to be with someone, but, you know, it doesn’t have to be just anyone.” Your mother said dryly, taking a sip of wine.

“Me being with him has nothing to do with you.” You frowned, not liking where this was going.

“Come on, sis. Keigo’s got money, he’s got looks and charm. Rumor has it that he’s great in bed, too.” You brother threw out with a wink.

“You date him them.” You shot back with a glare.

“He came all this way to see you, and you’re not even gonna spare him a glance?” Your brother chided, with Keigo awkwardly waving to you from beside him, a lopsided smile gracing his face.

“Why would I? I’m with Dabi. He makes me happy, and he’s a good guy. I get that you guys are shallow, but he’s who I want.” You sneered, anger boiling inside that you were struggling to hold back once more.

“Oh come on. You want HIM? I can hardly look at him, I don’t know how you could stand waking up every morning to that.” Your fathers wife chimed in.

“I don’t really care what you can and can’t stand looking at, you frigid bitch.” You snapped, seeing red.

Your father raised from his seat.

“You will not speak to your mother that way, and you will stop this foolishness. You are not going to continue playing around with that boy. Send him back to wherever he came from, because it’s over.” Your father spoke sternly.

“First of all, that lady isn’t my mother. I hardly even know her. Second, Dabi isn’t going anywhere.” You said, rising from your seat as well.

“You will not be with him. I will not allow it. I forbid it!” Your father yelled, his face red as the veins stood out on his forehead and neck.

“Like hell you do! I’m going to marry him and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me!” You yelled back.

“You’re not marrying that boy and that’s final!” He growled back.

“I can and I will! I’ll be damned if any of you are going to tell me how to live my life!” Your fist smashed down onto the table, shattering your glass beneath it as you shouted.

“If you don’t stop this right now, consider yourself disowned!” Your father spit out, his heated gaze on your face. The rest of your family was quiet, shooting glances between the two of you.

“Well that’s fine by me! If you really cared about me, you’d want me to be happy.”

“I do want you to be happy. We all do. That’s why I won’t allow you to throw your life away on that charity case.” You father said, rubbing his temples.

“You don’t even know him! You hardly even know me!” You called back exasperated, unsure if you wanted to laugh or cry. You were in hysterics, waving your bleeding hand as you spoke. You mom stood, drawing your attention away from your father as she gave her opinion as well.

“Honey, I love you and I want you to be happy. You’re my baby and I want what’s best for you, but that man...Dabi...he’s just so...so damaged. I just can’t understand why you are so dead set on being with him.” She spoke softly, but her tone sounded like she was scolding you and you hit your breaking point. You screamed.

“Because I love him!”

You had failed to notice that Dabi had returned, paused in the doorway listening. On your last sentence, you had unknowingly yelled in your second language, providing Dabi with the only words exchanged that he could understand.

He didn’t know what was said before, but he could guess. He decided then that he hated your family. Partly, because they had judged him so harshly, but also because he’d never seen you so worked up. So angry.

You turned away from them and your eyes landed on Dabi. You marched from the table, grabbing his hand as you led him outside. He couldn’t lie, he felt a twisted sense of pride. You’d fought for him, challenged your family for him. You had bled for him. It was the first time you had said you loved him.

You wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He would burn the world to ash if you asked him to. You were his, and he was yours. In his life, he had never known love, but he knew it now. It was you.

__________________________________________

The drive home was silent. You had shifted from anger to something else. Disappointment? Maybe. Sadness? A bit.

You were hurt. Stunned by the cruel reactions from your family. You imaged some friction, sure. But not like that. This was something else entirely.

What was supposed to be a happy day had turned sour, and you were bitter.

When you pulled into your driveway, you shut off the car and just leaned back and sighed, closing your eyes. You felt warmth on your thigh, and cracked open an eye to see Dabi resting his hand there for comfort, while he blankly stared out the window at the snow covered ground.

“I’m sorry.” He said, his voice low. The silence had given him enough time to think on it. His pride fading when he realized your relationship with your family, that was already strained, was now probably permanently damaged because of him.

“No, don’t apologize. You did nothing wrong. I’m sorry. I am so sorry, Dabi. You didn’t deserve any of that.” You said, voice cracking as you rested your hand atop his.

He looked at you and saw the tears in your eyes, along with the few that escaped down your cheeks. He wondered how many more you would shed for him. Because of him.

You got out of the car and made your way inside. He followed you to the bathroom, and you climbed into the bath together, where Dabi just held you for a while. He had no real experience comforting someone, but he figured if he was going to try for anyone, it was you.

When you got out, you both put on pajamas and headed down to the living room to watch a movie.

When it ended, you untangled yourself from him and the blanket was quickly thrown off of you as you pushed yourself up from the couch to stand, a faint “oh, i almost forgot” leaving you as you scurried off.

You returned a moment later holding a small rectangular box, much like the ones he had found in your room that held your jewelry. You held it out to him, a small smile painted on your face. He took it carefully and you plopped down beside him on the couch again.

You leaned into his shoulder as his hands roamed over the box.

“It’s another Christmas gift.” You said softly. He paused.

“No, you’ve already given me enough.” He said holding the box out to you stubbornly.

You gently pushed it back towards him.

“Open it.” You said.

He sighed, pulling off the lid to stare at the contents of the box with confusion.

“I don’t know what this is.” He said, picking it up and inspecting it.

“I’m pregnant.” You whispered, hiding your face in his shoulder. His whole body stiffened, his eyes glued to the white stick he held in his hand.

[lentendays]

Kurogiri Time Travel AU

Ao3

Okay so Time Travel Fix It, but with Kurogiri-slash-Shirakumo-Oboro, former UA student and classmate to future Pro Heroes Present Mic, Eraserhead, and Midnight.

"My name is Tenko." Shiga-  no, Tenko, all of five years old, looked up at him with large, clear eyes. "Not Shigaraki Tomura. And you're not Kurogiri either."

In which Kurogiri wakes up in the past and promptly decides to raise a young Tenko on his own, and maybe round up the rest of the League while he's at it, because they're really just a group of broken people who need hugs and guidance. Too bad he's still technically a high school student, and All For One isn't going to take kindly to his plans being interrupted.

----

Tamping down on spiraling panic, Shirakumo Oboro did his best to smile reassuringly at the increasingly dubious-looking little boy he'd just kidnapped off the streets.

"Welcome to your new home!"

Shimura Tenko didn't think it was normal for older people to take random little kids home and plan to keep them seemingly forever. His mom had warned him against people like that. But Shirakumo seemed nice enough.

 Hours earlier

The city was jarringly familiar and different at the same time. People were wearing things that hadn't been in fashion for years, but the streets could fortunately be navigated on muscle memory alone. Then again, he didn't have much to compare against.

Kurogiri hadn't gone out in public often, and even less so after the League had made their debut at the USJ. He was too recognizable, his Warp Gate considered a high threat.

He didn't have Warp Gate now, though. He had another quirk, bright and soft and fit for a hero. The thought was bitter. He'd wanted to be a hero so badly when he was younger, believing he'd get there on optimism and hard work. He'd been naive, considering what had come after.

He stopped in front of an electronics storefront, looking at his reflected face. It looked impossibly young, younger than Shigaraki Tomura's. The eyes were a dark blue, surrounded by tanned skin. A very solid hand pressed to the glass. There was hair. It was the same color as the eyebrows.

The first thing he'd done when he'd woken up, after finally accepting he wasn't dreaming, was place a call to his parents. Hearing their voices again had made him break down, sobbing incoherently into the phone. He'd probably scared them, and they'd promised to visit Mustuafu as soon as their schedules allowed. He'd have scared himself quite a bit too, if there hadn't been so many other things to consider. When was the last time he'd been able to cry?

Since then, he'd been wandering the city, lost on what to do. He was a villain. Or rather, his reanimated corpse had been. He had somehow found himself years in the past, back when he wasn't said reanimated corpse. There had to be something he could do to change the horrors of the future. But his head pounded with a mess of scarring memories and he was so, so tired. He'd died at seventeen, a wannabe hero. He'd been enslaved to one of the worst villains in history for decades after that, violated and used to harm countless people, and raise an innocent child into a dangerous, hurting monster.

Then he'd died again, unable to save those he cared about.

And I woke up... here. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. The feel of cloth against his knuckles was unfamiliar, too. With the Warp Gate as a body, his sense of touch had been different, barely there. This was suffocating. He wanted to crawl out of his skin.

"P-please, I need help."

The voice broke him out of his reverie. At the far side of the street, a small figure was reaching up to people briskly walking past. His feet brought him forward unconsciously.

He wasn't thinking, really, but if he couldn't leave a kitten to drown in a storm, then he certainly couldn't leave a child who was asking for help. He was fairly certain that was a trait that remained consistent throughout his existence, both as Oboro and Kurogiri, and besides, focusing on someone else's problems would give him more time to avoid his own.

He was out of practice, but there had to be something he could do. He could use his quirk. Children liked clouds, didn't they?

He pushed past the pedestrian crowd and reached the source of the voice. A small boy, it turned out, with dirt in his tangled, light hair. He lowered himself to a crouch, putting on what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

"Hello. Are you lost?"

The tiny face turned up at him, hopeful despite the wobble in the lower lip.

Blue-grey hair, darker at the tips. Red eyes, skin around them rubbed raw.

It was Shigaraki Tomura, in miniature.

He let out a wordless exclamation, reaching reflexively forward in a heady rush of affection, relief, guilt--

The boy jerked back, eyes wide and fearful, and he paused. He swallowed, lowering his hand.

After several tries, he managed, "What's your name?"

"...Tenko," came the answer, voice high and childlike and adorable, and he bit down hard on the inside of his mouth to keep from doing anything that might scare the boy off. Like burst into tears. "Sh-shimura Tenko."

"Shimura Tenko," he repeated. Not Shigaraki Tomura. Not yet. Not ever, if he could help it. "I'm K- Oboro. Shirakumo Oboro. It's...so very nice to meet you."

The rest of the story’s up on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24336538/chapters/58679554

[nemo-draco]

The First Step

Hi all! Bit of a crossover piece here, courtesy of some amazing art on behalf of @rose-junk-junky on Tumblr, and @a-rae-of-sunshine, whose characters feature here along with my own. Long story short, saw some amazing animatics and art with Rae's characters in a Frankenstein-like scenario, and my guys jumped in with a cry of 'new friend!'.

To read off our cast, Whimsy, Fancy, and Whimsy's 'creator' (this AU's version of the Mayor of Burnsville) are the characters of a-rae-of-sunshine. The AU itself was thought up by rose-junk-junky, who I also have to thank for showing the Frankenstein Musical album in the animatics. All the rest are mine.

Hope you enjoy!

A First Step:

"If any being felt emotions of benevolence towards me, I should return them a hundred and a hundredfold; for that one creature's sake I would make peace with the whole kind!" Adam Frankenstein, Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Their dreams were racing, blurred things, fraught with frantic energy and a sinking sense of wrongness that made them feel sick to their stomach. It was like they were stuck on a top, whirling from images of crackling electricity, to fire, to the ripping of stitches, to the sounds of people screaming in both anger and fear. But rising above it all was that one face, that one person, who's attention they had coveted the most, and the one they hated all the more for what HE'D DONE TO THEM-

"I should never have given you breath…"

-Awakening in a dark room, empty, filled with books and beakers, devoid of anyone-

"You're a beast to be feared…"

-Wandering in the wilderness, cold and alone, seeing others but always being met with screams and vitriol-

"By heaven we'll drag you…"

-The brief respite of the blind woman and her company, ruined when the others came and saw-

"And haunt you…"

-Fire leaping, climbing higher and higher, growing out of control-

"And banish your soul…"

-His face, their own creator, staring at them with such revulsion and hatred-

"From this earth!"

The nightmare went from formless to something concrete, Whimsy all but slamming down into their own body just in time to feel a rope slip around their neck. Immediately it tightened, yanking the reanimated faerie towards…

…A creaky, rickety platform of wood. One that somehow filled them with more dread and fear than they'd ever thought possible. The fear became something real, forming fire that leapt around the construct like it was some specter summoned up from Hell. A shadowy crowd appeared in the billows of smoke, voices like howling wolves as they screamed.

"Kill it!"

"It's a demon, a monster!"

"Be rid of the awful thing!"

They spun, pulled, tried everything they could to get away from the noose's pull, even slipping their fingers around the rope to try to yank it off, but nothing worked. And worse still, a numbness was seeping into their body, starting from their feet and working its way up to their ankles.

A face in the crowd leapt out to them, their eyes widening as they recognized their creator standing among the throng. Before they could even think, or read into the neutral, blank expression on their maker's face, they cried out like a drowning man casting about for a lifeline.

"Help me! Help me, please!"

Their legs grew stiff and cold, only weighing them down as they struggled to escape the noose, the fire, the awful drop...

"I'm alive!" They screamed, eyes tearing as they sought out their creator's emotionless stare, as cold as the deadening sensation creeping up their body. They were being pulled up the stairs, up to the gallows...

But somehow, even over all the screaming, the jeers, the fire, and the creaking pull of the hangman's rope, they could hear their creator whisper as though he were right next to them.

"No, you aren't."

"You made me!" Whimsy cried, feeling a slight give in the boards under their feet, hinting at the presence of a trapdoor. The fire climbed, the crowd howled for their death, the feeling of the end pulling their hands away from the lethally light weight of the noose. "YOU MADE ME!"

But with no inflection, no emotion, came the cold response.

"I reject you."

And with a snap, then came the short drop...

...And the sudden stop as their body thudded against the floor, thankfully a carpeted one that masked the noise.

Not that Whimsy, for the moment, had much mind to be thankful.

For the time being, their mind was frozen, limbs shakily drawing in to curl out of some instinctive reaction as they tried to figure out whether or not they were once again dead.

The feeling of their heart galloping in their chest, as well as the frantic gasping rushing in and out of their clenched teeth, contradicted that idea. Well, that and a slight sting radiating through their hip given that had smacked into the floor before the rest of them.

Sitting gingerly up and untangling themselves with a trembling set of arms, Whimsy sat in the dark for a spell, before deciding that this wasn't helping and stumbling to their feet. Their hands only shook a little as they found the doorknob, though as they stepped out into the hall the faintly cooler temperature jolted them to something that felt a little more in control...and drew their eye down to a plate that had been left next to their door. A quick sniff brought the scents of beef, some kind of vegetables, maybe bread? All of it was a little dulled though, the plate itself cool to the touch. This had been left a while ago, that was for sure...

It made them realize that they weren't even fully aware of what time it was. The most they could say was 'night' but the house around them was dead silent. Everyone else must already be in bed.

The notion was surprisingly relieving, Whimsy picking up the plate and deciding to head downstairs. Even the faintly chilled food was somewhat appetizing, especially since this would be the first time they'd eaten all day. Or…night? Whenever.

Despite their height, the reanimated (corpse) faerie was able to move stealthily down the hallway, to the stairs leading down to the larger part of the house. The…guy, Cab, who had brought them here had said that it was an old firehouse. When they'd gotten it set up, they'd moved the pole, somehow got a spiral staircase, and made the whole downstairs open to co-join the garage with the rest of the first floor, barring a little section for a bathroom and closet. That was a design choice that Whimsy'd been a little confused by, Cab's words that it was for 'Bee's benefit not really helping to illuminate much.

At least, not until the car sitting in the garage space started talking, during which that little mystery was cleared up in short order.

Whimsy had just come down the stairs when a faint noise caught their attention, their head jerking in the direction it had come from to see a very small figure sitting at the table. The most eye-grabbing feature was a small streak of silver running through a head of otherwise black hair, a tired shadow in the tailor's face despite the brief flash of nerves at the sight of the towering, stitched-together faerie (reanimated corpse). The pair stared at each other, Whimsy belatedly remembering that this was the person who owned this house, what had Cab called him again?

Either way, they couldn't exactly ask with their mouth full, so they made an effort to swallow a rather large mouthful of chilled beef and bread. He ended up beating them to actually talking though, voice quiet with an attempt at nonchalance.

"Glad to see you liked the food. We did have dinner a while ago, but you were asleep. We didn't want to wake you."

"Thanks," Whimsy muttered, once their mouth was free to reply, though they realized that they didn't really have anything to add or say. Funnily enough, Fancy seemed to have the same issue too, drumming his fingers on the table for an instant as his eyes cast around before lighting on the softly steaming mug in front of him.

"Do, you want some tea?"

Tea. Whimsy had a vague memory of it from when they'd spoken to the blind woman. A bit bitter, but warm. And, if something were to go wrong, then they could just leave, right?

So, even with the mistrust nudging at the back of their mind, Whimsy edged cautiously forward, carefully watching for some sign of underhanded play. It was a nervousness that was echoed a little in the tailor, Fancy looking up to meet Whimsy's eyes and, consciously or not, huddling down a bit like a fox that had come too close to a bear.

The faerie themselves edged quietly into the seat, nearly approaching calm before a metallic, humming voice spoke up from behind them.

"'Ey Whims."

Oh, right, and the car, the thought of which immediately had Whimsy changing seats to keep both Fancy and 'Bee' within view (and noticing with a silent shiver of bracing tension that the sleek, not all together large but still not small black car had rolled closer). Not that Bee himself seemed to take much offense, given his next, calm words.

"Thanks for switchin', by the way. Easier to talk when I'm not hollering over someone. Guess it's the exterior, dunno. Not many people expect the car to hold a conversation." Despite the easy tone, Whimsy couldn't feel relaxed, like there was a trap somewhere that they needed to keep an eye out for. They might not have been run out on a rail yet but it had barely been twenty four hours.

"People…ignore you?" Whimsy still asked, faintly piqued by the implication. Though they really couldn't guess what was worse, to be shunned or ignored. A faintly vindictive part of them hissed that to be shunned was worse, an ignored person could at least live among other people.

"Eh, sometimes. Though bein' innocuous enough to escape notice does have its perks. It's how I was designed after all."

Immediately Whimsy's brain got stuck on that last bit, to the point where they couldn't help asking.

"…Designed?"

"Originally I was made to be what you'd call a 'cursed object'. Maker just decided to be more ambitious and cursed a car rather than something like a toaster or doll or whatever. Demonically-charged rituals can be a mite bit unpredictable, apparently, 'cause I ended up with enough 'me' to say I liked the guy I was supposed to be causing trouble for a lot better. 'Course I couldn't stay when I kinda revealed I was alive, but, y'know, nice while it lasted."

"We're glad to have you either way, Bee." Fancy spoke up, it just striking Whimsy then and there that the tailor didn't seem surprised by any of what Bee had just said. Granted that could make sense, considering they had known each other longer. Things like this had probably come up before. It definitely seemed like it considering that Bee's tone was casual, even wistful in some spots, when talking about this person that he'd supposedly been sent to cause trouble for.

"Same. Great to be in a house where I can actually talk to people."

It was almost relieving for Whimsy to drop into the role of a spectator, but inevitably, the talk had to turn back to the last conversation partner that was sitting at the table.

"So, Whimsy, were exactly have you been? Thought I knew all the myths around here. Granted, most of them live in this house, but, well…" Though Bee trailed off, and certainly didn't sound like he was anything but calm and faintly curious, Whimsy couldn't help but feel the edge of an interrogation in the words.

"I, I've been…traveling…" Even to their ears, it sounded incredibly feeble. But they didn't know what else to add so they stayed quiet. At least, what they could say without getting into some worrying territory.

"Blew in from outta town?"

"Yeah." The faint grumble from the reanimated faerie completely contradicted the easier, flowing tone that the car employed, Whimsy remembering what they'd just learned about Bee and feeling…a sort of discomfort. Bee had sounded like he'd at least known something about what they went through, at least on some level, how on earth could he sound so put together? So calm?

It wasn't fair.

"What made you decide to come here? It's not exactly a prime tourist spot."

"…I wanted to meet someone."

"This a myth or a person?"

"Person. Didn't work out." To put it mildly, their memory flashing to a twisted, destroyed frame hidden partially under a sheet, sightless eyes staring up at them as that voice screamed about how they would not be tricked or cowed by a demon, a shambling wreck of a faerie-

"Sorry to hear that."

Whimsy didn't have an answer, and looked down as Fancy came back with a mug of tea. It was too hot to drink, but the warmth from the mug was more than enough to create a comfortable heat, soaking into their hands and driving the memories away. At least for the time being.

"Do you have anywhere else to go? I know Cab's probably said you could stay, but… do you have someone that might be waiting for you?" Bee asked, the somewhat quieter, hesitant tone a definite tell that this was a question that the car was aware might be difficult.

"…No."

Alone. All alone. Anything they might've had gone in a blaze of fire and all because of some bad timing. Anything they could have had gone because of a selfish, stupid creator that only cared that they'd taken their first breath, and not any of what came after.

A flash of pain went through Whimsy's temple, causing a wince that had them bringing their hand up before they realized what they were doing.

"You alright?"

"Fine."

The sound of something rustling off to the side caught Whimsy's attention, the reanimated faerie nearly jumping out of their stitched skin as they looked in the direction of the noise, only to see Fancy having reached to the center of the table for a napkin. The sudden movement on their part made the tailor jump too, though something in Whimsy's face seemed to catch his attention.

"Whimsy?"

They weren't fine. This wasn't fine. They felt horribly off kilter and the questions and constant presence of people were starting to take their toll. If it was just Bee, or just Fancy, Whimsy felt like they could have handled it better. But the fact that there were two relatively sharp individuals here, moving around and poking at them, stoked their nerves. Even though they knew that there was no immediate danger, that no one had lit fires or gathered up weapons, a part of them was consistently on edge, looking for some sign of trouble.

And they didn't want to! It was making their jaw clench, their head zinging with overstressed aches and pains. They were jumping at shadows and it made it hard to concentrate.

They knew that the full answers would only provoke suspicion, and perhaps an eviction. It wasn't like they'd told everything to anyone here. Though, the memory of the blind woman, and the distinct difference in how that had felt versus this, tugged at Whimsy, making them wonder both just what had changed in them to create such a feral anxiety, and also knowing exactly why.

How long before this ended too…

Another faint pain twanged at the muscles in their temple as a result, the feeling making Whimsy wince and murmur to themselves as they tried to knead the sensation out.

"What's, what's wrong with me...?"

There was a pause, Fancy seeming to shore up his nerve before taking a seat next to the steadily devolving faerie, a hand tentatively resting on their arm.

"I think, that there's a lot you're grappling with, and you need some time to process it all. I could be wrong about this, but it doesn't seem like you've really had anyone before Cab brought you here, and part of that might be due to your appearance. Which, isn't fair to you, you can't control that sort of thing, not completely. I would say it's normal, even expected, for you to feel angry, to feel hurt, and... perhaps even a little afraid."

The notion that they were, or had ever been afraid caused Whimsy to recoil, turning a hard look Fancy's way as the tailor jumped and also withdrew, his face a mask of tension. Bee too remained quiet, though Whimsy could just faintly hear the noise of his tires rolling closer by a half-inch. The standoff lasted for all of a few moments, before Whimsy remembered that Fancy did not have to let them stay in his house. Besides, he had drawn off, and didn't look ready to try touching the reanimated faerie again.

So, Whimsy let him be, and turned back to stare into their tea.

But the sight of their own reflection merely stirred those thoughts up again, the defiant bark of why would I be afraid answered with a smaller, insidious whisper of because your existence is singular, and you will always be alone. You don't even like the sight of yourself in the mirror, remember? Your creator wanted nothing to do with you, you were a mistake from beginning to end...

And when death finally claims you, who will even bother to mourn?

A small droplet of water splashed into the tea from above, Whimsy's grip on the mug handle so tight it was quivering.

"Whimsy...?" Fancy's voice came from the side, still worried sounding but there was a new edge of care to it that still felt so alien for Whimsy to hear directed at themselves.

"Oh geez…" Bee's voice murmured, with the same sort of softer, concerned tones.

"Damn that stupid, selfish..."

It was quick, a hissed few words on Fancy's part, but Whimsy had heard them clear as a bell.

They weren't able to move, much less address those words, and Fancy didn't acknowledge them either. Instead, he rested his hand atop their arm again and continued to speak.

"Whimsy, I need you to take deep breaths, just a few. Can you do that for me?"

They tried, but what came out were hisses that turned into gasps that felt like far too much effort for the simple act of breathing.

"Alright, that's a good start. Now I want you to try breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth, Whimsy. It'll help you feel better, I promise."

Though there was that instinctive nugget of mistrust, there was also the part of Whimsy that was starting to believe that they were being smothered somehow, and the way Fancy had spoken before tipped the scales in favor of trusting the little tailor.

And, in spite of everything, the advice was helping. Whimsy found air coming easier and easier after a moment or two. But the whole experience had left them winded and exhausted, which made it a little difficult to hear what Fancy asked at first.

"How are you feeling?"

"I," Whimsy started, swallowing around a dry throat. "I feel…"

It took a moment to really parse through their physical symptoms, though eventually words came to describe the strange mix of light-headed and completely worn out.

"Dizzy. Air, I need, outside…"

"It's alright, there's a window next to you, I'll open it. Just stay sitting down, please. I don't think I could carry you if you fall."

Whimsy glanced to the side as Fancy moved to the window in question, getting it open with only a small bit of effort. The rush of cool air was a balm, Whimsy turning in the direction and leaning as much on the chair as their towering frame would allow.

"Just take deep breaths, it'll pass." Fancy's voice came, the faerie's eyes fluttering open for a moment and locking straight on the tailor's gaze. There was a slight flinch that went through Fancy as their eyes met, Whimsy frowning and looking away first.

Something in their face must've leaked to Fancy, because he spoke up again.

"Do you, want to try drinking some more of your tea?"

With nothing else to do, Whimsy did take a sip, the lukewarm liquid still having a soothing edge to it. There wasn't much left, but the whole episode had taken a lot out of the reanimated faerie, leaving them rubbing at their eyes and blinking blearily as they set the mug down.

That eventually turned into them letting their head rest on their folded arms, though they still tried to remain turned towards the window. It was later in the year, but the faint chirping of crickets was still prevalent over the dark nightscape outside. The sound was a calming, and vaguely relieving one, reminding the faerie of those times when they'd lived off the land and spent long nights under the stars.

Before they realized how…different they were. It was definitely an easier time.

They must've dozed off at some point, because a new voice speaking up brought them back to reality.

"Aww, lookit that. All tuckered out."

It was a voice they only somewhat remembered, given that the person in question had been present when they had been brought in to be introduced. A concealingly-dressed figure that had been quietly leaning back in his chair, looking them up and down with a set of luminously colored eyes that flickered through bright, sharp hues. Everything about this otherwise gray shape was nonchalant, from the way their frame settled to the way a similarly colored smile flickered into being over the wrapping covering the lower half of the face, there and gone. After everything Whimsy had been through, it was a different way to be greeted, and they still weren't sure if that was a good thing.

So, carefully, they opened their eyes and turned their head in the direction of the voice, and immediately caught sight of the same figure simply lounging in the chair next to them, even going so far as to tilt it onto its back legs.

"Tagger, please don't break the chairs." Fancy's voice came, the tailor gathering up the mugs before stepping away.

"Alright, alright. No fun," 'Tagger' replied, and performed the somewhat odd feat of dropping the chair back on all four legs with barely any noise. Though, as it landed, those oddly-colored eyes happened to see Whimsy's, and immediately there was a flicker of that smile again.

"Oop, guess somebody is awake. Hey, Whims. Think maybe you wanna catch some 'z's in your own bed?"

On some level, that should have been a good idea, though there was a part of Whimsy that definitely remembered why they'd come down to the kitchen to begin with, and therefore was not so ready to just head up to lie in bed, jumping at more shadows and quite possibly have more nightmares. So, instead of acquiescing, they settled in and closed their eyes, turning their head away.

"No, good here."

"But, you're gonna go back to sleep." Tagger pointed out.

"Maybe I will," Whimsy growled back, still refusing to open their eyes.

"Inna chair."

The rather frank observation did get a more venomous look from the faerie, though Tagger didn't look the least bit worried by the much taller Whimsy staring him down. It was such a strange switch to what would usually happen that they honestly weren't sure what to do, so they ended up breaking off the impromptu contest first to stubbornly shut their eyes, huddling in their arms like it was some sort of impregnable fortress.

And they knew exactly what Tagger thought of that given that the sound of him chuckling to himself wasn't long in following.

"Oh, you are just a treat, aren't you? Can see why Cab liked you."

Cab being the one that had brought them here, that had opened the door to his home. Admittedly, he'd neglected to mention the presence of folks like Tagger, or Bee, but he did mention the fact that he knew two faeries. They'd already made the decision, but it definitely helped things along. Still didn't endear them much to Tagger right now though.

"Bit of a backstory moment here, Whims. I was the first."

"…What?" The reanimated faerie couldn't help asking, their gaze turning back to Tagger just to see if they could spot some falsehood. A bit hard with a mostly concealed face, but for the most part it looked like he was telling the truth.

"The first one Cab made friends with. The very first. We've been paling around together for years! Think after that it was Patches, then we found Bee, then Sunny, and finally Manny. Oh, and then Fancy." Tagger elaborated, just as the tailor walked by and glanced over with a fondly sardonic look.

"Thanks for remembering."

"Welcome. Anyway. Guess we can add you to the list. That's if you plan on sticking around, a'course." Whimsy honestly wasn't sure if the implication that they would just up and leave was insulting or not, and ended up giving off at least half a surly glare which was probably why Tagger continued. "Well, you don't gotta make a decision just yet. It's only your first night. Plenty'a time if you decide you're sick of us an' wanna split."

Yeah, that language really wasn't helping, Whimsy's stare towards Tagger turning a touch more spiteful. Though, instead of being bothered by that, he gave a theatric shiver before slipping back into his seemingly normal, at ease persona.

"Yeesh, if looks could kill… Tone down the eyeballs kid, it's casual conversation." Then a brief flicker of that same, glaringly colored smile appeared over the wrappings covering Tagger's mouth, further conveying the mischievous smirk in his following words. "Though I guess someone does need to go back to bed. A certain grumpy someone."

And back to this again, Whimsy growing fed up enough with the whole encounter to just resettle their head on their arms and close their eyes. Though, in doing so, they completely missed the somewhat conspiratorial, and equally impish grin that Tagger flashed to both Fancy and Bee.

It made the feeling of being swept up into a pair of arms all the more jarring, Whimsy left blinking as Tagger arranged the reanimated faerie in a bridal style carry and spun on his heel for the stairs.

"H-Hey! What're you-?!"

"Wouldn't squirm too much, Whims, the staircase is only so wide."

A very good point, and while Tagger was apparently strong enough to carry someone that definitely was a good few inches taller that didn't mean that the stairs were necessarily going to alter their proportions to make it easier.

So, out of a perceived sense of self-preservation, they scrunched in their towering frame as much as possible, warily eyeing the metallic edges as Tagger easily ascended. After what felt like a harrowing few minutes, they both made it to the upstairs hall, though to Whimsy's surprise and more-than-slight annoyance, Tagger kept going until he was standing next to the door of their room.

"…You can put me down now."

"Whatever you say, Whims," Tagger replied with shadows of that same amused chuckling, to the point where Whimsy had the honest impulse to just scramble away and figure things out from there. Tagger's approach to them may have been novel, but the novelty was quickly turning sour. They weren't a child!

Still, Tagger was both deft and careful, setting them down on their feet and heading past them to a door down at the furthest end of the hallway.

"Night, Whims. See you in the morning."

And he was gone, leaving Whimsy standing like a silent sentinel in the hall. With nothing better to do, they went back into their room, quietly clambering onto the bed and staring at the night sky they could see from their window. The sight brought to mind the window downstairs, from which those familiar sounds had emanated that had provided a brief spark of respite.

Whimsy got up to crack the window open, sliding under their covers and looking in the direction of the small square that looked out to the outside world. The sound of crickets and the rush of wind through the trees accompanied them as the world grayed out, and they slid into a thankfully dreamless sleep.

A knock at the door snapped Whimsy awake, though it only felt like they'd just closed their eyes. Blinking bemusedly, they stared in the direction of the window, seeing a blue sky and trees losing their red and yellow leaves, not quite sure what was going on before the knocking came again.

Yeah, they…probably should answer that, shouldn't they? The thought of which was what teased them up, causing Whimsy to reel to their feet and plod around their bed for the door.

A familiar face was there, a more unique set of features given the black and white, checkerboard-like pattern that was stamped into the other person's skin. Cab was wearing the same primarily white pinstriped suit as yesterday, a not-totally open grin on his face that somewhat disguised his teeth, which Whimsy couldn't help noticing yesterday given that they'd resembled the sharper ones in their own mouth. Cab was tall, lean, though even a six-foot-tall frame didn't have much when compared to Whimsy's eight feet in height, and therefore he'd had to crane his neckless head back a little to look them in the eye, reaching up to hold his boater hat on his head.

Not that Cab seemed to mind, an ever-present grin on his face that sharply contrasted Whimsy's barely awake stare.

"'Ey Whims! Sorry for wakin' you up, but I figured you'd wanna get some breakfast. Ever had pancakes before?"

It took their wakening brain a few moments to figure out, firstly, what had been asked, and secondly, that no. Pancakes were a somewhat foreign concept.

"It's a food…right?"

"Yep, it's a food, a breakfast food. Wanna come down an' try some?"

Their curiosity had been piqued, so they did say yes and made to follow Cab. Whimsy found themselves waking up a little bit more, enough that they couldn't help noticing the confused look Cab passed them just before making it to the stairs.

"…What's wrong?"

"Nothin', nothin', it's just…did you sleep in your overalls?"

Were they being insulted? It was a little hard to tell, though from what they saw Cab wasn't the sort to just poke a beehive just for the sake of it. But, if it was sincere then what was even the point of the question?

"…Yes?"

"We could try givin' you some pajamas if you like."

"What are… pa-jamas? Is that even a word?"

"It is too a word! They're clothes you wear when you're sleepin'."

"People wear special clothes just for when they sleep?"

"Well, yeah, they're meant t'be comfier. Fancy could make you some if you like!" Cab's offer was nice, though Whimsy was decently sure that if they tried to go to the tailor to ask for anything they might end up giving the poor guy a heart attack. Hopefully, they thought as the pair reached the bottom of the stairs, Cab wouldn't bring it up with Fancy because they sure weren't about to.

"What're we talkin' about Fancy makin'?" The sudden presence of Tagger's voice made Whimsy jump, head swinging around to see the whatever-he-was in question leaning on the railing like he might as well have been there all along. Even though Whimsy knew he hadn't been just a moment ago.

"Hi, Tagger! We're talkin' about pajamas! Fancy could make Whimsy some!" Cab replied, as though the sudden appearance just didn't bother him.

"Oh, are we?" Tagger's reply had Whimsy preparing for more demeaning mockery, though they were somewhat thrown when Tagger instead looked them up and down before coming to a decision.

"Green or red. Maybe blue. But not light, definitely darker colors."

"You think so?" Cab's frank question was also somewhat disarming, to the point where Whimsy finally had enough and decided to break in.

"Wait, wait, what are you talking about?"

"If you were gonna get new clothes, those colors would probably look the best on you. Your fur's darker, so lighter stuff would just clash. And make you look pale. Paler. You get what I mean."

"Tagger's an artist!" Cab jumped in, the 'artist' in question looking more flippant.

"You can see my work around town sometimes. Usually at night. I've, ah, 'tagged' a lot of buildings." Tagger's expression clearly hinted at a joke, though as to what the actual joke was, Whimsy couldn't help not knowing. And Tagger didn't seem too primed to explain, muttering about how 'it didn't land' and turning away, heading out to the kitchen.

The kitchen at which Fancy was quietly helping a much taller figure, a similarly patchwork shape that was handing him plates to put on the table. Whimsy had seen this one too, back when they'd first come in. They'd been given a name, they knew, but the sight of a figure even remotely similar to them had caught them off-guard.

Though, as the moments of that first meeting had worn on, it became clear that there were differences.

This other creature, this other faerie, did not seem to need to blink, for starters. Pale blue eyes ringed in black faintly glowing and constantly staring, almost as if their owner had been trying to pick apart Whimsy by sight alone. They, no, she, was also considerably shorter, with the top of her head coming up to the middle of Cab and Tagger's faces. In physical shape, she resembled a doll with a simplified face, jagged-edged mouth and all. But, much like a faerie, she had more animalistic features mixed in, namely small but noticeable claws, legs that resembled a dog's or a cat's, along with two points coming out of the top of her head that resembled a pair of ears. Though, given that her skin appeared to be a sort of canvas material, Whimsy wasn't sure exactly how well they worked. Then again, maybe they did, faerie logic being the way it was. Whimsy had tried to read into it, but the general consensus was that people generally didn't know how faeries worked. At least, not inside and out.

Their creator might've known. But the ship had sailed on asking.

Before Whimsy could even have a hope of sitting down, a pair of fast-moving shapes dashed past their legs, hurrying to the table with the same frenetic urgency of a starving animal that had just been presented with the prospect of food. And they were both chanting 'pancakes' like the apparent breakfast would need some sort of summoning ritual.

"Hold on you two." Fancy's calmer tone hinted that he had no fear of either, despite the fact that one was a literal skeleton but dressed like a child they might see walking down the street, and the other looked like an uplifted wolf puppy, dressed in what looked like some sort of medieval garb. A tail wagged through the seat of the canid creature's pants, mirroring the flicking movements of a pair of batlike wings poking through the wrap covering the upper part of the small body. Somehow Whimsy knew, without being told, that this was another faerie.

Granted, they had the same feeling that they did when first looking at the canvas-made fae, that, just maybe, they might be too different to fit in with another faerie. The fact that this little one was so bouncy, full of life, didn't help that notion any.

They felt like a note in a song that didn't fit, Whimsy's feet already sliding back before an arm at their back caught their attention. A glance to the side revealed that Cab was the culprit, the sharp-toothed grin turning softer at the edges as they gave the reanimated faerie a little nudge; it's okay.

So, taking a deep breath, and feeling like the act of moving their own limbs was a momentous thing, Whimsy put one foot in front of the other and started moving towards the table. They weren't exactly making a lot of noise, even with their larger size, so they weren't sure what exactly made the little faerie-puppy's ears swivel around to them. Her head followed the movement, cherry-red eyes growing wide as she looked up and up…

I should say something, right? Whimsy couldn't helping thinking, the feeling of something squirming in their stomach as they stared down at the faerie-puppy's face, the mask-like fur around her eyes starkly contrasting with that bright scarlet.

"U-Uh, h-"

"You're tall…"

This hadn't come from the faerie-puppy, but from the little skeleton who had turned around while Whimsy had been focused on what exactly they were going to say. The small, child-sized skull had bright lights set in the sockets, glowing blue pinpricks that also stared up and up at Whimsy with the same stunned shock.

"Yep! This is…" Cab started, before trailing off and gesturing with theatric dramatics to Whimsy, inviting them to introduce themselves.

"Whimsy."

"…Whimsy! They'll be stayin' with us ferra bit, so, don't give 'em too much trouble, okay?" Cab continuation may have been meant well, but it seemed to hammer in the notion that Whimsy had done their introduction wrong. Not that they had much experience, but the emotional knife had already been pushed in, and twisted all the more by who exactly they were being introduced to. They didn't exactly have the best luck when it came to people, never mind children…

An image flashed through their mind, of a small child clutching his arm as they tried to skitter away from the faerie, eyes wide and liquid-y at the edges as they stared at Whimsy with nothing short of complete fright.

"Why did you do that? I-I was trying to help you!"

-a limp little figure in their arms, before a CRACK-BOOM rang out and pain blasted through their shoulder-

They blinked, hard, the images vanishing though the sight that greeted them when they opened their eyes didn't seem much easier. Both the little skeleton and the faerie-puppy were still staring up at them with frankly unreadable, worrying awe, and Whimsy felt fresh out of possible conversation. Thankfully Cab came to their rescue, though the reanimated faerie felt like a coward as they accepted his reminder of pancakes as an excuse to get away from the pair, and actually sit down.

However, the trials for the day were not done, as the one that slid in to sit on Whimsy's other side was the other faerie, the taller one with the staring eyes. It didn't help that once the dishes were all laid out, this faerie was taking over the actual doling out of the pancakes, and while Whimsy was trying their best to mirror what they saw the others do, it didn't keep them from feeling a twinge of nerves when those unblinking, unreadable eyes turned to them.

It seemed to take an inordinate while of them staring at each other for the other faerie to figure out that Whimsy needed a little help, a much softer toned, feminine voice speaking up and somehow very audible to them despite one of the children laughing about something nearby.

"Did you want one pancake or two?"

"…Can I get three?" Whimsy's request was answered as she doled out three pancakes, though they couldn't help the brief glance at the plates around, mentally doing the math as to whether or not they'd taken too much. It seemed fine, but their brief spate of figuring was interrupted as they realized that the other faerie had not stopped looking at them.

"…Wh-What is it?"

"You never mentioned your name."

Though the specific language wasn't used, this still felt like a request for a name, and not in just the 'what is your name' kind of fashion. Whimsy had certainly not forgotten that this was a faerie, a faerie that, even with their more placid demeanor, probably held to at least some of the old standards when it came to behavior. So, squaring their shoulders a little, they replied.

"You can call me Whimsy. I don't think I got your name either?"

"Do you want to know it?"

Wasn't that why they were asking? Maybe they should have phrased themselves differently…

"…Yes?"

"Then you can call me Patches." The frankness with which the words were delivered made it hard to tell if the other faerie was upset or angry about what they'd said, Whimsy feeling that uncomfortable, cornered-animal-type squirming settle in their gut as they maintained eye contact. Patches was the one to look away first, turning to her two pancakes and leaving Whimsy to awkwardly consider their own three. The pancakes themselves were warm, the smell more than appetizing though the sight of the faerie-puppy trying to slice hers with her fork while partially shoving them in her mouth caught their attention briefly. Fancy's efforts to get her to use the knife something that Whimsy paid close attention to. While there was a surlier, more combative part of them that groused who cares how we eat it, a part of them couldn't help pointing out that if they wanted to avoid attention, they'd at least have to give some semblance of good manners.

Though when they finally tasted the pancakes for the first time, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate impulse to scarf them down. They were good, the one with the little dots of blue in it quickly discerned to have blueberries and wasn't that just a completely welcome surprise.

Non-sarcastically meant. At this point they were seriously considering asking for more, though a quiet chuckle from Tagger cut through the euphoria.

"You enjoyin' the pancakes, Whims?"

Of course, their mouth was full when he asked, leading to them throwing the neon-eyed figure a glare as they considered the notion of whether or not they could rush through swallowing this. Deciding that no, they wanted to savor the pancakes, Whimsy instead made to turn their attention back to their food, and ended up having another distraction in the form of Cab proffering what looked like some kind of jug.

"Syrup's real good on those. Here, give it a try."

Whimsy watched with a growing-less-wary sense of curiosity as the golden…liquid (?) was poured onto what remained of their pancakes. And a hesitant taste turned into pure bliss as Cab had been proven completely right. The rest of the pancakes were quickly scarfed down, though a quick glance around the table showed that there were other things to pick at. They recognized the small bowl of berries, snagging a few and quickly eating those, though the one with the bacon going too quickly for them to have a hope of getting anything and with everyone reaching for some they weren't too sure they wanted to bother.

But, just as Whimsy had dropped back to more or less consider their empty plate, Cab reached over and placed down a few strips of bacon. At their surprised look, he pointed to his other side, to where the little skeleton boy gave a bright wave to go with his fixed grin. Whimsy's lips twitched, though the sight of the relatively normal-looking teeth brought to mind their own, sharp-toothed grin, and they kept their smile small. It didn't seem to deter the little skeleton at all though, the small bones clattering as the child jittered around with pure happiness at the simple show of gratitude.

It did help, a little, though Whimsy found themselves drifting towards a silent backdrop, more listening to the words of the others rather than contributing. They didn't think they would have very much to say anyway. At least, not things you said when everyone else was talking, laughing, telling jokes, and overall being far more light-hearted.

Was this what it was like? To be…normal? To have a home and a family? It was vaguely reminiscent of what they saw through the cracks in the walls of the blind woman's family, the strangeness of the current cast aside, and it made the role of the watcher feel all the more fitting and familiar. Safe.

"Whimsy," someone started, the faerie feeling like that veneer of security just tumbled down around them as they were yanked into the conversation. The source turned out to be the nearly silent Patches on Whimsy's other side, their eyes yanking to her like she'd brandished a knife. "Have you ever done this sort of thing before?"

Their brain stuttered out a little, because they knew the answer and also had the very certain knowledge that perhaps telling the whole group in any detail how that went likely wouldn't end well.

"I, uh, yes. A long time ago."

Not so long though, the reanimated faerie avoiding everyone's eyes as they drew inward, closing off from the rest of the group. It didn't stop them from hearing the somewhat awkward pause in their wake, the conversation stuttering to life with some sort of joke from Tagger that blurred in their ears. They didn't really feel like paying attention much anymore, the earlier, calmer feeling gone by the wayside as things seemed to move on around them. Before they knew it, everyone was getting up, doing their respective parts to gather up the dishes as Cab took over the washing of said dishes.

It felt like the rest of the group moved on like a hurricane, taking their warmth and energy with them. Whimsy was left clumsily fumbling along in the aftermath, glancing around in askance before handing their plate off to Cab who'd practically all but entreated the reanimated faerie to give it over.

Just as the porcelain left their fingers, a tug on their overalls caught their attention, Whimsy looking around before dropping their gaze even further, and finally catching sight of the faerie-puppy staring up at them.

"Y'smell really funny." Her voice had such an odd accent to it that it took Whimsy a few moments to realize that the words weren't altogether flattering.

"Uh…"

"Y'smell like a lotta different things. It's weird."

"Uh, Sunny…" Cab tried to interject, though he was still up to his elbows in the dishes from breakfast.

"They smell like apples, Cab!" Sunny insisted, before closing her eyes and taking in another deep breath through her nose. "An' trees. An' dirt. An'…"

Another inhale, and Sunny's eyes opened again, looking more puzzled.

"…Lightnin'. You smell like dead things an' live things. Which one are you s'pposed t'be? Are you like Manny or are you like me?"

It felt very much like the child was asking the question 'are you alive or are you dead?'. It was one that Whimsy couldn't help asking themselves sometimes, especially given the fact that the only side of the spectrum they'd ever see were the people in the villages, the towns. The very much alive, and the dead things were lying in their worm-infested, decomposing beds. Seeing Manny was definitely a first, but Whimsy knew that they weren't the same as the little skeleton.

"I, I don't know. I don't think I'm…either…"

"Why don't you know? Wasn't anyone there t'tell you?"

No, but the word wouldn't come to their mouth, as it came with ranting about how their own creator hadn't wanted them, had taken one look at them and fled, leaving Whimsy to deal with the world alone. Even with distance, and cares, that still stung worse than physical wounds. But, as they tried to figure out how best to answer, Sunny seemed to come to her own conclusion, reaching out from her perch and pressing a hand to Whimsy's front.

"…It's okay. No one told me either. But if you're smart, you won't need tellin'. You'll figure it out. That's what Tagger said. But Patches said I could ask an' so did Cab an' Fancy. Maybe they can tell which one you are." Sunny said, with the gravitas of someone delivering a prime solution, punctuated in the conciliatory pat they gave the leg of Whimsy's overalls. It was the sort of thing that they really didn't have any words for, but in lieu of just sitting there like a dullard Whimsy did try to add something to the conversation.

"That's…that's some nose you have."

…Didn't mean that it didn't sound any less lame to their ears. Though, thankfully Sunny didn't seem too off-put by the switch. If anything, she seemed proud that Whimsy had pointed it out.

"I've got the best nose. Ask anyone."

"It's the best. Can find a rabbit in the whole forest." Cab pointed out, Sunny grinning happily at the support.

"Yep!"

But, even with the lighter switch, the question that the little faerie-pup had asked stuck in Whimsy's mind, beating like a drum.

Are you alive or are you dead?

It was one that, for all their efforts to wrangle an answer, they couldn't quite manage it.

They ended up retreating to the couch again, settling down on the leather fabric with a quiet sigh. Was there a right way that that was supposed to go? It hadn't felt right at all…

The faint sound of someone walking caught their attention, their head turning to see Cab approaching, a somewhat nerve-edged smile flickering over his face as he came near.

"'Ey, Whimsy. You doin' alright?"

"Yeah, fine," they mumbled, looking away to consider their knees and feet yet again. It seemed to provoke something in Cab, his tone changing from moderately upbeat to quietly apologetic.

"…Hey, just wanted t'say sorry. Forgot the kids can be a lil' inquisitive sometimes, realized that y'prob'ly didn't want t'deal with that just after wakin' up. And don't worry about Sunny, she's just curious. An', hey, Manny seems t'like you."

Which was, reasonable, and a little bolstering, but Whimsy couldn't help a recriminating thought from slipping out.

"…Don't think most people would want their kids being around me…"

"Hey, hey no, none of that now," Cab suddenly murmured, sitting down on the table in front of the sofa just to be within the reanimated faerie's field of vision. "Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person, y'hear?"

Whole mobs of people felt differently, Cab, Whimsy wanted to say, though the more biting thought wouldn't quite make it to their tongue. Instead, something a bit more lame slid out, the faerie letting their chin drop even more as their shoulders rolled inward.

"…yeah, sure…"

"Whimsy, look at me? Please?" Ordinarily, they might've rankled a little at the thought of anyone telling them what to do. But Cab's behavior, his tone, everything felt like he was actually trying to be nice, like he thought of them as a person. So, even though they didn't quite relinquish their hangdog, beaten-down demeanor, Whimsy did look up to meet Cab's eyes. The look they saw there was enough to give them pause, only having seen something like it once before. Beaming sincerity and emotion, to the point where the eyes glimmered faintly at the edges. Cab's hands came up to grasp Whimsy's shoulders, the touch only getting the faerie to look away for the briefest instant before their gaze immediately snapped back to Cab's, somehow sensing that what he was about to say was something that he wanted them to properly hear and absorb.

"Trust me, I know. This is hard. And it's okay to be freaked out about it. But, Whimsy, no one here thinks you're a bad person. And, if you want to, you don't have to be a bad person. You don't have to be. You can be just as good as anyone else, just as good a person as you want to be. Nobody can force you t'make a choice, only you do that. And, Whims, I don't know a whole lot, I'll admit it. But, anythin' anyone said, anythin' anyone did to you, it's not your fault, okay? That's on them, what they do, what they say. Not on you."

It was nearly everything they'd wanted to hear, but somehow, there was doubt. There was a part of them that couldn't help looking for falsehoods and tricks, that thought that what Cab was saying couldn't apply to them. And maybe it didn't. It wasn't as though Cab knew about what happened to the blind woman's house, or that child's arm, or a similarly patchwork shape underneath a sheet…

"…Why do you care? Why, why does this…matter so much to you?" It was an honest question given how suddenly Cab had come in and just started, offering them things like friendship and a place to stay. Though while Whimsy couldn't fault themselves entirely for asking it, a part of them couldn't help feeling just a little like they'd done something wrong as Cab's hands fell away, his eyes glancing around as though for help before he just seemed to decide to come out with it.

"…I, I've been there, before, Whims. Maybe not exactly where you are, but…I've been somewhere near it. And, in a lotta cases, what I'm tellin' you was, I didn' exactly have that many friends to start out. Pretty much none, actually." Cab's eyeline dropped, his whole, lanky frame drooping as though held down by weights. But he didn't stay that way for long, quietly looking back up to meet Whimsy's eyes though there was still a careworn shadow in his face as he smiled. "Kinda, y'know, when you see someone goin' through somethin' similar, makes you wanna stick up for people like that. T'help them out. Heh, sorry, prob'ly not makin' much sense."

"No, I, I think I get it." Whimsy replied, feeling a faint, nearly involuntary grin tugging at the corners of their mouth. "Thanks…Cab. Thank you."

"Welcome. Also, Whims, we're goin' out, by the way. Just takin' a walk. Wanna come with?" As Cab spoke, his hand reached out to Whimsy, gloved palm up with the fingers a little outstretched. There, if they wanted. But...

More crowds, more people, more feeling out of place.

"...No." They should say something else, right? "No thank you."

Though there was a slight downturn to Cab's smile, he nodded in that understanding sort of way before heading back into the kitchen.

"Okay. I'll see you later, okay, Whims?"

"…Sure." Whimsy more murmured back, a faltering feeling in their stomach that Cab probably couldn't hear them. The thought that the group would have to come back through the room, and would therefore have to walk past them, forced Whimsy up and back to the spiral staircase. Not to mention, Bee was right beyond the door, and if he were to come back…

Well-meaning or not, Whimsy didn't want to deal with really anyone right now.

They were nearly to their room when they saw a faint ribbon of light playing across the floor, from a door that was a little further down the hallway than theirs. A wary sort of curiosity pricked at Whimsy's conscious mind, the reanimated faerie skirting down the hall with a stealth that was a little disarming given their eight-foot-frame.

It was a skill well honed, though, and put them right next to the door in question. And, with the way it opened, they got a rather good view of the room beyond. It was a space filled with color, different reels of fabric here and there, gatherings of sewing material, a rack full of completed and partially completed clothing. There was a desk directly across from the door, a familiar figure there and quietly at work. Fancy was bowed over what looked like a mess of warm colored fabrics, hands a constant blur of motion as he carefully stitched one of the seams. Whimsy honestly could not have said what it was, both because of the angle and just by looking, they were hardly any sort of expert on clothing.

But, the more they watched, the more they found the motions, and the overall atmosphere of the room, soothing. Perhaps it was the fact that it was quiet, but warm, and perhaps it also had something to do with the stitches running through their own frame, but somehow it was enough to keep Whimsy rooted there, quietly watching, for what felt like a good few minutes, their eyes quietly roving over everything from the clothes themselves to other things scattered about the room.

On one of the upper shelves of the desk, standing out because it was different from the other nooks and crannies filled with sewing supplies, were a bunch of what looked like random objects. Small stones, what looked like some sort of porcelain figure of someone dancing, an apparent amulet with a piece of some kind of crystal, a small mechanic's wrench, and a folded piece of paper with a smaller, colored piece pinned to it.

They were too far away to really look at any of the other objects, but the wrench immediately brought to mind Bee. Had Bee given Fancy that? Were the other objects all gifts too?

With the added layer of detail, the view into the room almost became a mirage, something that Whimsy could almost imagine themselves stepping into and claiming as their own. Someplace warm and inviting, with objects here and there that had their own stories, their own place.

Their own home…

Though unfortunately, the spell was broken with a too-loud creak coming from the hallway, Whimsy not sure if they'd accidentally shifted or not but seeing Fancy pause and make to look up. Without thinking, they turned tail and tried to hurry back down the hallway as quietly as they could, closing the door of their bedroom behind them.

For a brief instant they stood there, listening, before realizing that there was light coming in through the window behind them, which would illuminate the fact that they were standing there. Stepping back, Whimsy moved closer to the window, and happened to catch sight of movement in the yard below.

Out of instinct, they drew back, but it still didn't mask the sight of Cab, Tagger, Patches, Sunny, and Manny all heading off for their walk. The younger children skirted around the older three, clearly in good spirits with Cab more readily following along. Tagger and Patches were going at a more sedate pace, though were clearly part of the group. Despite the strangeness of the people, it was much like what Whimsy had watched from a distance.

What would it have looked like if they had gone too?

It felt foolish, not to mention horribly vulnerable, to just stand there staring out the window, so Whimsy instead turned to the bed, still rumpled from the nightmare-fraught sleep of last night. It looked just as lonely and forlorn as they felt, the reanimated faerie letting their eight-foot-tall frame thump onto the mattress. They didn't want to sleep, for a multitude of reasons, but, really…they had nothing else to do. Nowhere else to go.

It was…frustrating. Wasn't this supposed to be better? Were they doing this right? Was there a right way? They didn't want to go on the walk. Cab hadn't tried to force them, but he'd seemed… not bothered, but maybe a little put out. Had he wanted them to come?

But, they hadn't wanted to. Should they have agreed anyway?

The thoughts were more maddening than helpful, and getting tumultuous enough that Whimsy forcibly cut them off with an irritated growl as they pressed their face into the pillow.

Of course, cutting off their own air really didn't help much, so after a few seconds the reanimated faerie quietly pulled their face away and looked to the side instead, fixating on the blue and the tops of the trees they could see through the window. They had the thought to open the window again, to hear the sounds of the nature outside given that so far, it had been the only comfort. Though the thought was in their head, and they could easily picture getting up to do it, for some reason, they couldn't make themselves move. Instead, what happened was that Whimsy rolled onto their side, eyes lazily focusing on the trees outside as they gently swayed in a breeze.

Time melted by like that, and they easily could have slipped into a doze that thankfully was too light for dreams. But, as they flopped onto their back, a knock came from the door.

It brought to mind Cab, though in a twist, the one standing there when Whimsy opened the door was Tagger.

"Hey, Whims!"

"Hi." Whimsy wasn't about to force more than a politely neutral tone, though Tagger's voice still kept that calm, devil-may-care lilt that showed he wasn't the least bit intimidated by anything, never mind the eight-foot-tall faerie staring him down.

"Missed you on the walk, but Sunny and Manny wanted to get you some stuff. Think you might be able to come out and play next time?" They weren't sure how it happened, but somehow Tagger moved past them, setting down a few objects on the dresser across from the bed. Two rocks, one lighter colored and with rounded edges, the other jet black with sharp angles. As Tagger placed down the little souvenirs from the hike, it struck Whimsy just how plain and bare the place was. Fancy's room had been littered with personal touches, but for them the only thing in the room was the furniture.

Well, it wasn't like they'd set up shop anywhere long enough to really acquire things of their own. The fact that they had an actual bed still felt like a marvel. Tagger was currently sitting on it but it still counted.

Still, Tagger's tone, and words, rankled enough that now Whimsy actually felt a rebuke coming to their tongue.

"I'm not a child, you know."

"…Funny you should say that. T'me, pretty much everyone in this house is young. Well, younger." Tagger's tone had softened a little as he turned back, the look in those oddly-colored, glaring eyes easing down to something a little less blinding. It brought to mind the conversation that Whimsy had sort of participated in, where Tagger had divulged that he had been the first one that Cab had befriended, and more or less kicked off the formation of this strange group. Perhaps then would have been a good time to actually dig in and find out more, but, well, they were here now. No time like the present, right?

"…How old are you?"

"Rude." Given that it was more than a little hard to read Tagger's face, Whimsy couldn't help the immediate apology that leapt to their tongue. It didn't help that Tagger's body language could have been either mock-affronted or real-affronted, his arms crossed and upper body turned away with his head back a little. Had they said something offensive, it wasn't like they would know…

"I, wait, I wasn't…"

Thankfully, Tagger seemed to get that facing in the opposite direction wasn't helpful, turning around and actually facing the reanimated faerie as he replied.

"No, no, it's okay. I'm kidding, Whims. Don't be so serious. And, honestly? Couldn't give you an exact, numerical answer. I just know that, in terms of age, I pretty much rank ahead of everyone, Fancy included."

The notion was honestly a bit of a shocking one, though it stoked to life Whimsy's curiosity. And, if Tagger hadn't been too bothered by that one question…

"What exactly are you?"

"Well…you know that feeling you get when you're out at night, alone, and you keep having the feeling that someone's behind you even though you're pretty sure no one's there?"

"…Yeah?"

"That's kinda in the same ballpark as me. 'Course, you might be a little more familiar with the rest of the family. The Call of Cthulhu mean anythin' t'you?"

"…No, not really."

"Don't worry about it. For reference's sake, think of it like the blackness between the stars, or like when you're swimmin' in deep water an' just happen to look down at all that nothin'. Just, all the stuff out there that's too big to know that might keep you up at night if you think about it too much because, as it turns out, there's either no answer, or there's one you might not like all that much. Point bein', there's a reason I keep all this paraphernalia on."

Well, that was something of a revelation, even though Whimsy felt they really could only guess at exactly what Tagger was eluding to. Something unknowable, something too old to really pin down a proper age to, something that couldn't even show its true face or form around anyone. How on Earth did Cab even befriend something like that?!

"So, now that you know somethin' about me, can I ask somethin' about you, Whims?"

Seemed fair, though they weren't too certain they'd like where this was going.

"…Sure."

"Y'can sit down by the way, not gonna bite. Alright, my question is…where've you been, exactly? I can tell you're a faerie, at least on the outside and before whatever happened there, but somethin' like you doesn't just sprout up overnight."

"…I, I was, I've been traveling. Around. I…I spent some time in a village, a good ways north of here." Whimsy haltingly replied, sinking down to sit next to Tagger.

"Yeah? Spent a while up there?"

"Yeah. I, I was staying with a family…they didn't really know I was staying with them." This felt like the start of a chain reaction, Whimsy fully aware that this was, while not the worst of their crimes, a good lead into the destruction they'd wrecked.

"Guessin' the family might not have reacted well to their house guest, huh?"

"…One did. There was an older woman who lived there. She was blind. I thought if I could make my case to her, then, maybe they'd let me stay…"

"Didn't work out?"

"No. Her family came back, and they saw me, and chased me away, and when I'd gotten back they'd left and I-" Fire, fire had happened as the little cottage that they'd been so fond of burned up around them like some portion of Hell had risen to devour it. Whimsy had been angry, true, but there'd been something so soul-chilling in the sight that it had sapped them of their anger like a bucket of water to the face. Their efforts to put out the flames had ended in burns, burns that hadn't stopped stinging until they'd been able to douse it with water from the well and despite their best efforts, the whole thing had gone up. They'd had the thought in the back of their mind before, but especially now as they relived the memory, they couldn't help wondering what happened to the family. Did they come back? Did they see what the faerie had done?

"…I burned their house down."

"You don't sound proud of that."

"I wasn't, I'm not, I just…I got angry." A deep sigh, before Whimsy went with the first thought knocking about in their stitched-together head. "Doesn't matter anymore. Wouldn't have worked."

"Maybe you didn't find the right people."

"There aren't any right people. Nobody cares about me."

"You sure?" Tagger's voice had started to take on that semi-teasing lilt again, the reanimated faerie finding that they had barely any patience left for that nonsense, thank you.

"…Look, whatever you want to say, just come out and say it."

"Don't know the specifics, but Cab didn't have to say he'd be your friend, right? Fancy didn't have to let you stay in his house. I didn't have to carry you back up to your room last night. But we did. Kids didn't have to get you presents either. But they did. Know your experience is a little skewed, but…what'dya have to lose in tryin' again, Whims? Besides, you're not dealin' with some run of the mill, salt of the earth types. We're all pretty weird. Think I just demonstrated my own case decently well. And, if you're runnin' around with a crowd of folks that're weird, d'you really stand out?"

It was a good point, Whimsy going quiet as they considered it. They were, unique, for sure, and they were pretty sure that there wasn't anyone else in the world like them, but, considering what they were learning about their new housemates, maybe someone exactly like them wasn't needed.

"We're a stubborn bunch, Whims. You ain't gettin' rid of us that easy." The words, in and of themselves, were something to think on, but what grabbed Whimsy's attention was the fact that Tagger, did something. Made some sort of motion like he was going to reach out to the reanimated faerie, but as Whimsy stared and leaned away, Tagger pulled back.

"Alrighty then, suit yourself," he murmured, almost sounding dismissive. Though as Tagger made it to the door, he glanced back to the faerie. "And, if and when you're ready, c'mon down. We'd like to see you sometime."

They'd all like to see them. There was nothing in Tagger's voice that suggested a falsehood, which made the knee-jerk, resulting thought that no, no one wanted to see them, feel very much like a double-edged sword. Keeping anyone else away, but cutting deep somewhere inside.

"Oh, by the way, Whims," Tagger spoke up, twisting around in a way that didn't look altogether right as the neon pie-cut eyes glimmering from underneath the hood glanced back at the reanimated faerie. "Left you a surprise on one of your gifts, but you gotta turn the lights off and close the curtains to see it. Anyway, see you 'round!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a somewhat confused Whimsy in his wake. Bemusedly their eyes turned to the little stones that were now sitting innocently on their dresser, the faerie even resorting to going over and picking them up for a closer look. Left something on them? What the heck did that mean?

Though there was the added stipulation of the lights, Whimsy quietly putting the stones back down before going to the light switch and then crossing the room to get the curtains.

It was when they turned back to the stones that they saw the glimmers of light, almost like paint, dotting the surface of the darker one. But it was only when they got close and picked it up that the reanimated faerie could read what had been scrawled over the rock.

A simple message, written in brilliantly neon colors with ever letter being a different shade: Hi Whimsy!

And a sort of design underneath it that, as they turned it around, looked like a small, simplified face winking at them.

It was such a small thing, the kids not having to think to get them a present but Tagger also had not had to add in the extra message. But it felt both lightening, and a little worrying. Like Whimsy was standing on the edge of a precipice and couldn't see the bottom of the pit they were looking to jump into. They'd seen groups of people, both friends and presumably families, that looked to have that perfect happiness.

It had been a strong lure, as perfect and content as it looked, to tease Whimsy from the trees and pique them to try talking to the people they saw. But it had never worked. Even when the other person couldn't see how they looked, it never worked.

Whimsy was weird, Whimsy was wrong, Whimsy was disgusting, a monster, unwanted, not supposed to be…

In a snap, they realized that they had started to squeeze the little stone, and immediately loosened their grip with a worried grimace. The present, and the message written upon it, were thankfully unharmed, Whimsy looking down at it for a moment before carefully placing it back on the dresser.

Their attention was grabbed by a brief shuffling noise in the hallway, Whimsy wondering for a brief instant if Tagger had come back to see if his gift had been warmly received. The door had been left open a crack, a few strides taking them over to it and a brief nudge opening it enough for them to look out into the hall.

Which was empty. Whimsy peered left, then right, seeing no one.

They pulled back into their room, thoughts turning to what Tagger had said before. Maybe, maybe they would try to go downstairs in a little bit. Just to maybe explore the place a little more, though they couldn't help a mental block on the notion of what they would do if they actually encountered anyone. Maybe better to tackle that in the moment rather than try to plan ahead, planning ahead didn't seem to do them much good…

Whimsy ended up being so engrossed in their own thoughts, that they missed seeing the door to Fancy's workroom, which had been open a crack, surreptitiously slid shut as they returned to their own room.

It took a few hours before Whimsy felt ready, heading down to the landing and ending up a little relieved by how quiet the main area was. Bee, it seemed, had left, and though the sight was calming, they were still on-edge given that just because the more-visible car had apparently stepped out didn't mean that the others weren't here somewhere.

Though, thankfully, at least from the higher-up vantage point, Whimsy could safely say that they couldn't outright see anyone wandering around in near the couch below, or in the kitchen. Listening around revealed that things were quiet, though a quick glance to the windows drew Whimsy's eye to the fact that the sky had gone gray, the first of a rainfall pattering against the glass.

It did kill the fleeting impulse to actually wander around outside, though Whimsy was loath to just return to their room. Not after they'd come this far. Maybe, even with the possibility of someone coming along, they could just sit for a while.

So, with that thought in mind, they slipped the rest of the way down the stairs, walking past the little kitchen area to the sort-of living room.

It was a good thing that Whimsy had gotten into the habit of watching where they were putting their feet, otherwise they might've traipsed all over the two little forms simply sprawled on the living room floor. As such, they simply stood there for a moment, a foot handing in the air as they stared. Sunny was predictable enough, the little canine-gargoyle faerie arranged like a sleeping puppy, but Manny was…more interesting, to say the least. At least, Whimsy was fairly sure that when things looked all disjointed and, spread out like that, they were supposed to be dead. Actually dead, but then again, Manny being a little skeleton, maybe the rules were different?

Either way, this was a little more weird than they felt equipped to handle, especially from children, so the reanimated faerie turned on their heel. Thankfully, Patches was just coming out of the back room, though the other faerie's lighter tread meant that Whimsy nearly ended up running into her when they peeked out. Immediately both recoiled, Whimsy with an apology on their lips, though they ended up truncating it, given that Patches had that ever-present serene look as she considered them. The kind that barely seemed to get ruffled, it was almost maddening given that it made it difficult to tell what she was really thinking.

But it would be…wrong, to simply judge the other faerie for a trick of her demeanor, something not able to be really helped, so Whimsy simply bit their tongue and stayed quiet on their internal thoughts. Instead, they turned, gesturing to the scene in the living room as they tried their best to convey the issue at hand.

"I just, I found them like this, is Manny supposed to be…?"

Patches peeked around them, pale, unblinking eyes immediately lighting on the slumbering pair. Perhaps it was relieving, in a way, that the cloth-made faerie didn't immediately blanch, or scream, but that calm serenity was a little maddening. This was precisely why they'd been so slow to integrate with anyone, Fancy was easy to read, Cab was too earnest to have ulterior motives, the children were children, Bee was a demon, if not an easy-going one, and Tagger was…Tagger. Whimsy still had yet to figure that one out, but at least he had more visible moods, unlike Patches who seemed to skate through life with a strange sort of distant coolness.

"This happens sometimes," she was saying, lightly skirting over with barely a noise. "You can just pick up Sunny. I'll show you what to do with Manny. Just watch my hands."

"If you just give him a little help, he'll come together on his own." To illustrate her point her gentle motions of picking up the somewhat discombobulated skeleton caused Manny's bones to jolt back into place, Patches carefully scooping up the small monster and tucking him close, like Whimsy had seen mothers handle their children. Manny himself barely woke up, automatically snuggling in to Patches's shoulder, though the reanimated faerie felt themselves bristle as those unblinking eyes turned to them.

"You can try picking up Sunny. As long as she's comfortable, it should be fine."

Though there was a part of them that bristled at the notion, especially since Sunny could easily fit in an arm, Whimsy still knelt, reaching carefully out to the small, winged body. It was only after they'd carefully plucked the wolf puppy-like faerie off the ground that they realized that Sunny had been sleeping on top of something. It was a sheave of paper, along with some pencils, though what drew Whimsy's attention was what was on the paper.

"Sunny likes to draw," Patches said by way of explanation as Whimsy picked up the paper, though something in their expression caught her eye. "Is something wrong?"

"I, she drew me."

And it was so, Whimsy able to more feel than hear Patches coming around to look, but for the moment they had no space left for their knee-jerk guardedness. They only had eyes for this, picture. This child's creation that had them as a part of the group, standing under a bright sun and blue sky, amongst what looked like long, yellow grass. Strangely enough, Tagger was the tallest of the group, Whimsy competing with Cab for second-tallest, and what was probably Bee looked like more of a jumble of red and black than a proper car, Sunny, Manny, and Fancy looking similarly blobbish, but it was all recognizable. And they were a part of it.

"Patches told us," Sunny spoke up through a yawn, having woken as Whimsy had picked her up, ", 'bout the fields she used to live in, when she scared the crows. She said it was like a dream, when it was sunny, and the winds blew through the fields. It's her best place. She said I could use it. Wanted you to be there too. No more bad people, just us. All of us."

"Wh-Why…?" Whimsy forced out, their mouth feeling very dry as something about the word, or perhaps the emotions behind it, stuck in their throat. But Sunny merely looked up at them with her cherry red eyes, beaming that sort of empathetic heaviness that most children didn't have. Maybe Whimsy might've considered it more, though right now, their emotions were bubbling up their throat, coming out in a soft sob at what had simply fallen in their lap.

"If I had known…I would never have given you breath!"

"You're an object of shame, without soul or a name!"

"You…no place but…THE GRAVE…"

"No," Cab had said the other night, when they'd first met. "You don't need him! You don't need someone that don't want you! He's hurt you, cut him out of your life! If you need somewhere to go, you can come with me, with us."

"You're a little late offering me friendship," Whimsy had replied, a sneer curling their lip as they glared at the bizarre…thing, a creature dressed very much like a man, that stood before them. But, a strange thing was happening, had happened. Even as Cab had spoken, tears were gathering at the corners of his eyes, like he'd meant every word of what he'd been about to say.

"But I'm doin' it. Late or on time, the point is in the doin' of the thing! An', if'n you saw someone who you know felt as lonely and as hurtin' as you do now, would you just stand by? Knowin' what you know, and havin' been through what you've been through, would you, would you just let them suffer?"

They hadn't an answer, but when Cab had held out his hand, they'd taken it with only a faint bit of hesitation. Cab had tried more to steer them along, but the way he'd been keeping a grip on Whimsy's hand made them wonder if he thought they might bolt if he let them go. But then he'd turned to them and said something that had been sitting quietly at the back of Whimsy's mind.

"Everythin' in life is a choice, an' while you've gotten one hell of a raw deal, you don't hav'ta stay there, you hear? You won't be alone, not with us."

A choice. Whether they'd been aware of the significance or not, they'd made a choice. And it had brought them something small, but heartfelt, and precious. This, not small, but simple life that accepted them so readily as one of their own. That accepted them as…

"Whimsy, it's okay, I just meant that we're family now, see? Patches, Cab, Tagger, Bee, Fancy, Manny, me, you, we're all a family now." Sunny's voice trembled with upset, though Whimsy felt completely unable to answer. But, like a calm wind, a ray of sun in darkness, Patches's calm, whispery quiet voice spoke up.

"I think Whimsy needs a hug, Sunny. Can you give them a hug? One of your very best?"

The small arms wrapping around what they could of their frame snapped the last, delicate thread holding back the emotional floodgates, Whimsy doing their best not to crush the smaller faerie as they cradled her, and cried. Deep, heaving sobs that came from somewhere far down inside as a wail stayed locked behind a set of clenched teeth, their stitched together frame feeling like it might shake itself to pieces from the maelstrom raging inside.

We're a family…

"No soul or a name!"

You don't have to stay there…

"Corruption of biology…"

You won't be alone…

The feeling of another small frame, this one bonier, coming to hug them caused Whimsy to start, wide eyes finding the equally tumultuous ones of Manny. They must've woken up the little skeleton, but before they could even think to apologize the boney little arms were wrapping around their own arm, Manny tucking in in his own effort.

Whimsy looked up just in time to see Patches kneel in front of them, something beaming through as they made eye contact. That calm serenity swirled with a compassion that loomed as large as the open sky, Patches quietly reaching out to the reanimated faerie, and carefully brushing their tears away with a hand made of course cloth. They were quickly replaced by more, though for the moment Whimsy only bowed their head, shoulders helplessly shivering as they tried their best to ride out the storm.

What they weren't expecting was for Patches to reach out, gently easing them to lean into her shoulder. Her hands, with their faint suggestion of needle-like claws, carefully combed through the topmost layer of their curly mane. Their head rested against Patches's shoulder, folded down enough that even their eight-foot-tall frame could rest comfortably while still not crushing the two children doing their best to give the overwrought faerie a hug.

A soft hum caught Whimsy's attention, Patches's whispery tones rumbling low in her ribcage before it blossomed into a lulling song.

"You'll remember me, when the west wind moves, 'pon the fields of barley, you'll forget the sun in his jealous sky, as we walk in fields of gold…"

The 'best place', a field of pure gold that rippled in the movements of wind like something alive. But peacefully so, like the soft rise and fall of breath. It felt so antithetical to what they had known before, the shouting, the strife, the loneliness, the abandonment…

Though there was a part of Whimsy that wanted to push back, to withdraw until they felt safe, they found they couldn't. It felt so foreign, and yet there was a part of them that couldn't help staying right where they were. It was also the part of them that seemed to be the center of the emotional storm, this screaming, wailing, crying thing that grasped at the physical comfort like a lifeline. Patches's voice blurred in their ears, a lulling hum as their mind moved away from the images of darkness, lightning, mobs, screaming…and to a field of softly waving gold.

The thought caused a soft, near-involuntary sob to rattle through Whimsy's frame, Patches briefly breaking in her song to murmur some soothing words that was probably meant to be nonsense, but somehow, Whimsy couldn't take it that way.

"Shh, shh, we're here, we're here…"

A few moments of that, and carefully rocking them a little, and the scarecrow faerie went back to her tune. Whimsy listened, holding onto it like it was a part of the stitches running throughout their skin as the world dissolved into an exhaustion-dulled haze.

"I never made promises lightly, and there have been some that I've broken, but I swear in the days still left, we'll walk in fields of gold…"

"Hey, Whimsy…" A voice spoke, piercing the calm stupor that had drifted in. In the moment, Whimsy had no other thought apart from that they particularly liked where they were and didn't want to move, burying their face in the material as they tried to get away from whoever this was.

"G'way…"

"Would, but you're kinda pinning Patches to the floor. Wanna try gettin' up on the couch, probably be comfier?" At first, Cab's words were confusing, Whimsy's eyes blinking groggily open before they realized that, well, he was right. Turning their head brought Patches's face into view, the calm, even stare a little softer as she looked down at the reanimated faerie. With a somewhat sheepish flutter in their chest, they realized that they were still using Patches's shoulder and upper body as a pillow, with Sunny and Manny still held close in a careful but firm grip. Whimsy straightened, pulling away from the relatively vulnerable position, but they couldn't make themselves let go of the pair just yet.

With nothing else they could do, and a glance around telling them nothing, they couldn't help asking a somewhat hesitant question.

"H-How long was I asleep?"

"About ten minutes. Not very long at all," Patches replied, stretching now that the weight of all three had been removed.

"Hence why we're bringin' up the couch." Cab pointed out, about to reach down to help Whimsy up before Tagger nudged him aside.

"They got two heads on you, noodle-arms. Lemme do it."

Though Tagger was definitely more than ready to haul Whimsy up, it was a little difficult given that their hands were full of sleeping children. Patches and Cab tried to make it easier by taking at least one per each of them, but Whimsy had a moment of conflict as they looked between the offered hands and the little forms nestled against their front.

"It's okay," Cab spoke, catching Whimsy's hesitation. "They're pretty much out. You wanna take five with 'em?"

The question provoked a shy, eye-avoiding nod, though no one seemed to begrudge Whimsy an iota as they clambered up onto the sofa, and quietly scooted inward to make room for the sleeping Sunny and Manny. Instead, there were just quiet words on the part of Cab and Tagger, varying levels of affection in the pair's voices as Cab handed Whimsy a blanket and wished them a good nap, and Tagger's neon grin rife with rough warmth as he said he'd see the faerie later.

Sleep well, see you later. Was that normal to hear, and to feel like it was being meant? They weren't sure if they wanted to ask, but it definitely was a first for them. But, as Cab and Tagger were moving away, it suddenly struck Whimsy that Patches was still standing by, and apparently had something to say.

"You can come to me again if you need to talk, I don't mind. Also," she murmured, kneeling down next to the couch to look Whimsy in the eye. "You have brambles in your hair. I got about three out but there's probably more. We can try to fix that later if you like."

The faerie in question wasn't sure they could offer much to that, but Patches thankfully didn't seem to need an answer, getting up and leaving without any prompting. Whimsy was left blinking in the wake of that, before deciding that, well, they didn't need to really decide anything now and settling into the pillow with a sigh.

The slight movement made both Sunny and Manny move around, twitching and squirming for a moment or two. Without thinking Whimsy reached out and placed an arm over the pair, mostly for the sake of keeping them from rolling off the couch, but found themselves surprised when Sunny turned to huddle into them, Manny's arms reaching over Whimsy's and wrapping around like the limb was a stuffed animal.

It made the realization hammer in all the more that these little creatures, these kids, trusted them. Trusted them enough to sleep peacefully next to them, trusted them enough to let them into their home, draw pictures of them like they were one of the, the family.

The thought had Whimsy swallow another lump in their throat, a prickling at the corners of their eyes stubbornly forced back down because they were sick and tired of feeling miserable. Besides, if they started up again it might wake the kids.

"Shh, go to sleep, you're safe with me." They found themselves murmuring anyway, a faint tremble eating at their voice as they huddled around Sunny and Manny.

The sounds of the rain pattering on the windowpanes formed a soothing backdrop, Whimsy's eyes lazily drifting to see the water as it ran in rivets down the glass. It didn't quite banish the sounds of fire, of screams, that lay burned in their memory, nor the ghostly feeling of a noose tightening around their neck…

…But it was some space. It was a start. Maybe that would be good enough for right now, the thought bringing enough peace to the reanimated faerie that they let their eyes slip closed, breathing growing slow and deep as they slipped into slumber.

It made them miss when, a little while later, a much shorter figure came round the sofa to look at the little huddle gathered there. Fancy looked upon the otherwise sweet scene, a slight furrow in his brow as his eyes turned to the hand and arm Whimsy had used to keep Sunny and Manny close, covered in stitches that he knew so very well. Because he'd sown them with his own hands, slaved for hours over the eight-foot-tall frame that now belonged to the sleeping faerie on his couch.

Briefly, the tailor reached out for the fingers in some knee-jerk impulse to inspect them, before the thought of what if Whimsy woke up, how on earth he would explain what he was doing made him draw back. Thankfully none of them moved, but it left Fancy standing there, awkwardly staring, and wondering what on earth to do.

The sight of a light flashing from behind the sofa, out in the garage, quickly caught the tailor's attention, and he followed the nonverbal signal all the way to the car innocuously parked in the far corner of the garage. The door opened silently in an invitation, Fancy climbing into the driver's seat with an exhausted sigh and feeling more tired than he'd felt back when Cab had simply brought his 'new friend' right to their doorstep.

"You gonna tell them?" Bee's voice spoke from the radio, quiet but questioning. Not accusing, or forceful, but like a nudge on your shoulder to get you in gear. But right now, Fancy very much did not want to 'get in gear'. Instead, one of his arms folded over his front, his hand coming up to knead at his forehead to dispel the growing ache there.

"Okay, different question," Bee started, "what'dya think of them? It's been a few days, you gotta have at least some thoughts."

"I think…they've had to deal with far more than they should have. That that stupid idiot…made some very big mistakes in handling them. That they've probably been alone for a while. I'm glad they're connecting with people though, be it Cab, or Sunny and Manny, or Patches. It should be good for them."

"Alright. Gonna let 'em stay?" Bee asked, the sudden question catching Fancy off-guard.

"Huh?"

"Whimsy. It's your house. Is it okay if they stay?"

He could tell that this wasn't meant to cast doubt on Whimsy or their character, but if the tailor were to be any judge he would say that this might be a way to make up for the downright shock that Cab simply bringing the reanimated faerie home had been. Especially given that it was practically unannounced, which was something that tended to throw everyone when it came to Cab. In a group of supernaturals that had to adhere to some strict etiquette rules, the one that behaved the most like a mortal, with all of the spontaneity that came with, tended to stand out like a sore thumb. Even if, to this day, Cab was something of a mystery. A mystery that tended to be danced around, given that telling someone like Cab that they were 'different' was usually a recipe for the checkered-skinned toon to just avoid the issue and then for him to burn out a few days later from how much he tried to avoid dealing with it.

And, either way, it wasn't like Whimsy had destroyed his house or anything, so Fancy didn't feel too much conflict over his next words.

"Don't think I could throw them out now even if I tried. The kids would be too upset if their new playmate left. Cab wouldn't like it either." It also probably wouldn't be very good for Whimsy to be just acclimating to a new place and then be thrown out. If anything, it would likely undo that bit of progress that Fancy had just seen. And, though Fancy might not admit it to anyone other than himself, there was a slowly growing sense of responsibility for the reanimated faerie. If the mayor would not look out for his own creation, then maybe the only other person aware of the circumstances behind said creation should.

"Good point." Bee's voice rumbled through the speakers, before taking on a somewhat more hesitant air as he asked his next question. "You, uh, holdin' up okay?"

"I'll be fine. You're not worried, are you?"

"Think Tagger an' I have been sorta worried since you called us to come get you. First time I saw you that freaked out by anything. Second might'a been when Whimsy came in."

To be fair, Fancy ruminated, both instances had been firsts for him too. The fact that a reanimated myth had simply been brought to his doorstep was a shock in and of itself, but the fact that it was the same myth that he'd been more or less forced to slave over, put together from dead bodies, and whose creator pushed him to the point of a nervous breakdown, now that was enough to perhaps add to the gray streak in the tailor's hair.

The nervous breakdown itself had been something, given that while Fancy could say that he'd had rough points in his life before, there was nothing quite like the experience he'd had when one of the bodies that Whimsy's creator had been working with turned out to be a little more rotten than previously thought. Mostly because trying to take anything from it had resulted in a horrid, absolutely putrid smell filling the room, Fancy having gotten a glimpse enough of the rotting features that he'd about lost whatever little he'd been able to eat beforehand. He'd run out, managing to get a call home and getting Tagger, and of course he'd come with Bee for expediency's sake.

The ride home was an ordeal, given that by the time Fancy had been sitting on the curb for a good fifteen minutes, trying to banish the stench and sights from his mind, he'd become uncomfortably aware just how acquainted he'd become with the dead. The sight of dehydrated, blackened flesh no longer enough to sicken him but in retrospect it was all the more horrifying. He'd tried to focus, tried to buckle down, tried to tell himself that it was just a job and he'd make it through, and the mayor had definitely been paying good money that could be put to good use.

But in the end it wasn't enough, and Tagger had been coming just shy of outright putting his foot down in stating it. It wasn't enough to justify poor sleep and worsening health. It wasn't enough to make up for the fact that Fancy knew, in his heart of hearts, that what the mayor wanted wouldn't be so easily obtained. Some 'conditions' just weren't curable, and death was unfortunately in that category. And while the tailor had been able to ignore the niggling concerns in the back of his mind about just where these bodies were coming from, there was the part of him that wondered if they were all being obtained by 'legal' means. Or, if any family involved might be aware of what was happening to their loved ones.

There was only one body that he'd felt more or less sure about, the one that the mayor had had set up on that main table, the one that had been having the most alterations done to it. That one had clearly died not that long ago, still with a shadow of life in its features. In the right light, it almost looked like someone languishing under an illness, their face frozen in a look of quiet but poignant resignation though their neck had been a little oddly bent.

Perhaps it was to be expected, given that it was a faerie's corpse, though there had been a part of Fancy that had been a little put off by how dismal the expression was coupled with what the mayor had been doing. Perhaps it could be partially blamed on the fact that he knew faeries, Patches and Sunny, and to see either of them in this position would have been gut-wrenching. But he hadn't known this one, so looking at them had just brought a sort of melancholy irritation for their situation.

You look like you've suffered enough. Can't he just let you rest?

But then that night had happened, and Fancy had taken a break for a few days to come back to a note on the door for him, explaining that his services were no longer required. There was talk of a payment, the mayor had sounded apologetic regarding the whole incident, but Fancy's mind kept going over what had happened when he'd asked why his services hadn't been needed anymore. The mayor's exact words were that the experiment had been a failure, but he didn't elaborate.

Maybe that should have been a sign that not all was well, but Fancy had believed the whole endeavor impossible. How was he to know it had actually succeeded in creating something?

Though, as Fancy snapped out of his thoughts, he realized that he'd more or less been sitting in silence, ruminating, for a good minute now, with Bee patiently waiting for him to reply.

"…I'm doing better, promise. Startled me, definitely, but I'm feeling more…balanced. Definitely less 'freaked out', as you put it."

"Good to hear there. Though, Fancy…I get 'not now', but, be careful with that kinda secret. If anything just because it'll end up sitting like a rock in the trunk."

"Fair enough. Worried I'll get more gray hair?" It might've been a bit of an unfair thing to joke about, as while Fancy had adjusted to the streak of gray in his hair following the whole incident with the mayor, the supernatural cast of characters in his household…really hadn't. At least, not until everyone was sure he wasn't about to keel over given that they'd all made the somewhat correct assertion that 'going gray' could mean that you were close to the end of your life. It had taken at least a few weeks for them all to back off, though out of all of them, Tagger and Bee were the only ones that knew the full circumstances. Still, there was a laugh in Bee's tone as he replied, hinting that while there might be a worry it wasn't nearly as strong as it had been.

"Hey, don't even go there, mister. Not until you're at least pushin' fifty."

"Alright, alright, I'll be careful. And, I probably will tell them. Just not right now. Thank you, Bee." The words were punctuated with a gentle pat on the steering wheel, the lights flickering like a grin in reply.

"Welcome. Gotta work on stuff?"

"As always."

"Can you show me sometime? Can't exactly make it up the stairs…or wear clothes, but it looks fun." It might've been an odd request for a car to make, but Fancy was decently sure that Bee had made similar ones before now, about various things that though he knew there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell of him being able to participate he still wanted to know about. Ergo, it wasn't too hard to agree.

"Sure thing."

As Fancy was about to cross the living room, his path brought him within viewing distance of the huddle still slumbering on the couch, the tailor pausing for a moment to sort of re-take in the sight. Whimsy's face was quietly relaxed, arm still in that careful, protective position over Sunny and Manny, the pair just barely visible though Fancy could see Manny's much smaller arms still wrapped around the darker, stitched-together limb.

It was a surprisingly sweet sight, even with the unusual-ness of the cast of characters. Fancy gave a quiet, calm smile, before heading for the stairs.

[panharmonium]

next round of in-progress naruto thoughts under the cut

[i actually haven’t progressed that far from where i was last time, honestly, but i could feel myself getting to a stage where i had some things i needed to write up.]

fyi, this one is a little more gripe-y than usual - still enjoying myself, but there are some things in the current arc that are bugging me.

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: I am watching naruto for the first time and have only gotten to the point where naruto and bee break out of the island barrier and leave to join the war.  i am trying to avoid spoilers, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

anyway, to go ahead with my grousing -

there are a couple things about this current arc that have me feeling "ehhh.”

1) too many dead people

i’ve personally always been lukewarm on the “revive/reanimate dead characters for the Confrontation Value” trope, which is probably due to me having been a comics fan for so long (i was pretty deep into DC-land during Blackest Night, and that’s not even the first/last time this sort of thing has been done there, so).  i’m not saying it CAN’T be done in an interesting way, but most of the time my experience with it has been that it’s kind of cheap/redundant storytelling.  it usually doesn’t add much to an emotional arc, for me, and when it retreads an emotional arc that did have a strong conclusion, i feel like all it does is weaken the original story.  

so like - places where i feel like shippuden does this well are with minato and kushina.  i found both of those scenes with naruto to be powerful moments that added something new to the story/to naruto’s development.  (but they’re not even part of the whole reanimation jutsu plotline, which is what i’m mostly feeling “eh” on, so it’s not even the greatest example.)

a place where i’m kind of in the middle is with asuma.  on the one hand, i really don’t think that this needed to happen, because the original story arc with him was SO strong.  however, they did kind of redeem themselves in a way by focusing the redux on choji instead of shikamaru, so at least they were still saying/exploring something something new.

places where i’m still pretty dubious are pretty much...everyone else.  i’m just not sure...well, i don’t know.  i can’t really say definitively how i feel about it until i get to the end of the arc and see how it ends, but at the current moment, i’m just not sure what we get out of seeing people like zabuza+haku, lady chio, itachi, nagato, etc....ALL of those stories had such powerful endings; it just makes me leery of these “resurrections” invalidating everything we saw previously/weakening the impact of what came before.

2) mixed messaging

this is my bigger gripe, and it’s something i’ve kind of had floating on the edges of my mind for a long time, but this season especially is highlighting it.

the one thing that is guaranteed to make me frustrated about this show (besides its obvious disinterest in female characters) is when it starts to lean super hard into the “Naruto Is The Only One Who Can Do It!” for every single task that needs to be completed.  and i know this is a stupid thing to complain about when the show is literally titled “Naruto,” but the reason it gets frustrating is because the initial message of this show was never “one super special person must do everything on their own and save everyone else.”  the original message of this show was teamwork.  

the very first lesson kakashi teaches the kids (and the foundation upon which the rest of the story has been built) is “you are stronger together.”  if you had all come at me together, you might have been able to take [the bells]!  he specifically criticizes naruto for working alone: “naruto - you do EVERYTHING on your own.  EVERYTHING.”  and that’s understood to be the Wrong Thing; it’s the reason naruto ends up tied to the stump.  but in the last few seasons especially (though there have definitely been previous moments where this has shown up before) the ONLY thing we keep hearing is how naruto has to accomplish everything by himself.  

it didn’t bother me in the Pain arc; i actually thought that confrontation was appropriate and necessary for naruto’s development.  but ever since then, it’s escalated to a point where now it’s like - “naruto is the only one who can fight sasuke!  naruto is the only one who can defeat madara!  naruto is the only one who can stop the war!  naruto is the only one who can erase everybody’s hatred!”  

and that’s the point at which i start to get frustrated, because my mind is like “okay, and the other characters are going to be doing...what, exactly?”

again, maybe it’s stupid to complain about that when the show is literally titled “Naruto.”  but i don’t think so.  title notwithstanding, this story at its heart was, in the beginning, an ensemble show with four main characters, whereas nowadays, the messaging is that only one of those characters can actually accomplish anything.  so i get kind of resentful, when i’m told that the other members of the team can’t do anything but step back and hold naruto up, because the essential message of this story has ALWAYS been “teamwork is more important than anything.  you are NEVER stronger by yourself.  we ALL have something to contribute.”

right now, the other characters feel like they’ve just been shunted off to do busywork.  none of them have grown or changed at all since the end of season 10 (and even the end of season 10 was starting to slide into the “only naruto can do anything about sasuke in the end blah blah” - yes it’s a huge pet peeve of mine but it is what it is; whatever; moving on).  we haven’t even SEEN sasuke since the end of season 10.  there’s been no consideration given to how kakashi is handling being drafted into a second war and being put in charge of 20,000 lives (and his clash with zabuza was just a vehicle for all the characters to reflect once again on how great naruto is).  there’s been virtually ZERO attention given to how sakura is handling things, minus that one scene where she’s looking at gory pictures from the previous great ninja war.  everybody is just marking time, punching a bunch of identical white zetsus until naruto can come solve the problem and wow everyone with his new abilities.

part of my annoyance might just be due to the fact that the timeline is so wonky due to filler arcs - it feels like ages have passed for me, but in-universe it really hasn’t been all that long.  but i also think there are legitimate reasons for me to be frustrated, when the show introduces things and then just unceremoniously drops them without any indicator of when they might be picked up again.  like - the uchiha genocide reveal was (i thought) a Huge Fucking Deal that should have Major Repercussions - but it’s just kind of.....disappeared as an issue???  and yamato - he’s been CAPTURED!!!!!!  but the show has not shown a single character reacting to this, or even being informed that it happened, and i think that’s shitty, actually.  yamato isn’t a minor character.  he’s been naruto’s personal guardian since season 2.  he has done SO MUCH for the kids, and he is kakashi’s friend, and i think it is shitty to have him get captured by the same people who experimented on him as a child and then not spend a second or two making it clear that other characters CARE about this.  

anyway.  this is just something that’s been creeping up on me as time goes on, and the last few episodes of “Naruto is the Savior of the Entire World” talk just made it feel more immediate, i guess.  plus the new intro (which i know may not be reliable; sometimes they show things that never happen) had a shot of naruto fighting itachi, and i think that tipped me over the edge, lmao, because you know what?  enough!!!!!  naruto can’t be the one who gets to do EVERYTHING!  some stories are not about him!  there are other characters who have relationships that are not about naruto.  there are places where other characters should be able to accomplish things naruto can’t do.  the other main characters should be allowed to complete their personal arcs, separate from (not just secondary to) naruto’s journey.

like - just - this is how i feel: this show started out as a story about a group of four people, and the root theme was “teamwork is everything.”  i don’t like how the show has slowly started to mutate into a story about naruto’s “solitary” quest to save sasuke, when we have seen MANY TIMES that: 

a) sakura was the first of the kids who even knew that something was wrong with sasuke, while naruto remained utterly oblivious all the way through shonen jump (and partway into shippuden, tbh)

b) kakashi in the past has connected with sasuke in ways that NEITHER of the two kids have been able to achieve

i just don’t like it.  i don’t like how S10 had sakura say the line “naruto...you were the first one to ever see the darkness in sasuke...” when she’s reflecting on their fight on top of the hospital, because that is a LIE.  it’s a blatant retcon.  of the kids, sakura was the one who knew from the very beginning that something was wrong with sasuke.  she was the one who was with him when he had that semi-dissociative episode during the bells test.  she was the one who was with him during all the curse mark stuff in the forest of death.  she was the one who knew something was off when he challenged naruto to a fight - naruto was just psyched that sasuke wanted to “spar” with him!  and SHE was the one who suspected that sasuke might do something as drastic as leave the village - naruto explicitly told her not to worry; that sasuke was totally fine; he would never ever do something like that!

like - the show already barely gives sakura anything for herself; now they try to take this away from her, too?  and give it to naruto?  to hammer in a kind of connection between naruto and sasuke that demonstrably did not exist??  (i’m not saying that naruto and sasuke don’t have their own important relationship!  but it is just provably untrue that naruto was the person who understood sasuke best.  shonen jump goes out of its way to demonstrate how clueless naruto is about what sasuke is really like and what he’s going through.  naruto is SHOCKED that sasuke would go to orochimaru.  he doesn’t realize that their fight on top of the hospital is anything more than their usual rivalry business.  when sasuke pops out of the coffin behind kimimaro, naruto waves and starts laughing, because he thinks sasuke is still on their side and is going to run right home!  and even in shippuden, when naruto hears that orochimaru is dead, he gets all excited and goes “so sasuke must be on his way back to the leaf village!!! :D”  like.  he just doesn’t get it.)

and i won’t really get into kakashi’s side of things here, because i would end up writing too much, but suffice to say that i am just...wary of the way it feels like recent parts of the show are trying to minimize or...push aside the real, textually-documented connections that kakashi and sakura had with sasuke in favor of “Only Naruto Can Help!”  it frustrates me.  kakashi made inroads with sasuke that neither of the kids ever achieved.  sasuke talks to kakashi in a more honest way than he ever does with either of his peers, even when he’s out of his head with rage.  and i would prefer to see this show taking the angle that all three of sasuke’s team members are going to be indispensable for saving him.  

you know.  like teamwork.

[vynnyal]

Throwing random thoughts, headcanons, and a variety of pasta at the wall (but only those having to do with vessels and/or their biology this time): The Thrilling Third Installment™

...aka pretending i can be dark and dramatic jskhdfd

Thk's larger form is not the standard, but the exception. Thk was cited as being "raised and trained to prime form", which people take to mean pk assisted in the vessel's natural growth. However, that conclusion leaves a lot of unanswered questions, most important of which being “then what about Ghost?” In short, I think that train of thought is backwards. Vessels can't grow- they are ageless, and immortal. We know this due to Ghost, despite living as long if not longer than thk, being completely unchanged over the years. The only thing pk trained into "prime form" was thk’s mind and fighting prowess. Their body... well, I think it was mutated. Most likely either directly by pk, or ordered by him- and with the shenanigans happening over in the sanctum, I wouldn't be surprised if Soul was involved, too. In any case, it was in no means natural. Vessels are corpses reanimated by void; neither corpses nor void tend to make drastic changes on their own all that often. Whether pk predicted the vessel’s “issues” and intended to manually “upgrade” them from the beginning, it's hard to say. But... yeah. Unless Ghost goes out of their way to make themselves grow- if its even possible, now that pk is gone- its fairly safe to say, they never will.

...with that in mind, we are promptly gonna ignore that for the rest of this post lmaooo

Grown-up vessels wouldn't look like thk; while they are described as being raised into "prime form"... prime form, to whom? Rather than looking like an idealized pk soldier, it sounds much more fitting that they’d have an entirely different, natural adult form. Consider: their cloaks being longer and fuller, perhaps filling out into something with a more practical use to their “species”. Better yet, they could even grow up to be more beast-like. Feral vessels, YEhaW

The black egg temple is cited as being "built to sustain [vessels]", yet it can't be their lifespan that is sustained. Rather, it seems the egg is specifically designed to keep the radiance from tearing thk apart, physically and/or mentally. Ngl its p obvious, but worth noting.

Sorta-au where Ghost’s shade has 8 eyes, and/or is generally all-around more cryptid-looking.

@ the sharpshadow charm and the strange, 6-eyed creature their shade turns into: kudos to this post, they bring up something super interesting- the creature not only resembles the Shade Lord, but the lord outright becomes it during the Embrace the Void cutscene.

makes me respect the ol’ civilization a whole lot more if a single charm can turn a baby shade into a baby lord.

The concept of finding ghosts unconscious body, laying next to a corpse, while they battle in their dreams. Alt: when ghost enters the dream realm, their shade leaves their shell... And protects their body from harm.

If steel soul mode is taken as canon, just how did ghost and the shade meet? Alt: Ghost may never have “met” it at all, as it technically doesn’t exist in that mode- instead, its more of a metaphor than an actual entity.

What the vessels looked like- or were supposed to look like- before the void. Alt: a story following a child, alive and untouched, that somehow managed to be spared. They could even have a gender. Alt alt: the void intentionally spared them for some purpose, or even out of simple kindness- or at least, something that resembles kindness.

Re: the shade inexplicably having a nail: all the vessel's swords are crafted from “will-bearing rock”- of which i’ve come to lovingly call living stone- and as such, are of void themselves. That's how the shade seems to conjure up its own copy; it merely shapes it, from the ground, using void. And, while more of a stretch, Ghost’s nail being some sort of living stone/pale ore alloy could explain just how Ghost can do seemingly pretty crazy things with an otherwise ordinary nail. Better, while 100% a baseless hc, its material might actually enable Ghost to build it up and modify it to suite their size as they grow older. finally, a logical reason adult Ghost has an adult-sized nail-claymore. hdsfghjfghdsjf

On that same thought: Ghost outright invented the "art" of manipulating- or creating- living stone to make their nail. ...gimme a sec. The other escaped vessels have nails, too, right? Either meaning they also discovered this ability... or that theres some legitimate ground for the “vessel gang” hc. Or, yanno, i’m reading too much into Ari’s sprites but sHHhh

How did all the vessels know to race to the top? They seemed to be falling merely because they had just been born and had literal, actual baby strength; yet not only did they inexplicably risk everything competing to the top, they somehow knew death was waiting if they lost. Alt: pk just, bringing a fucking megaphone and telling them like a sports announcer.

What if Ghost made it, and instead of falling, they managed to joined thk at the lip? What would pk do? Push them off the edge??? Or just adopt them both?? Oh fuck au where they're raised as twin sacrifices. Or worse yet, they’re raised unequally, and one is trained only as an afterthought. As a backup.

Alternatively, pk keeps all the vessels au, only a few years later when they're grown. Pk now has a literal army of pure knights. Radiance is fucked.

Hm. If vessels were fully coherent entities from the moment of birth, why was there a crib in the white palace? Did... did they use it? I have a feeling team cherry made that asset before the abyss scene lmaooo alt: they did, uh, use the crib. Cue a very awkward scene of thk, clearly not a normal baby, staring at wl with like... idk, the poofy baby hat and pacifier. I can’t tell if the image is more funny or more sad rn shdfgfjsdgg

The og notes that inspired this post, in case my rambling makes more sense (and w/o the awful comic hjsfgjsdfhj): Oh oh OH i GET it now. The void is all about "will" and whatnot, right? And shades are "fragments of a lingering will"- will, like the one you leave after your death, but instead of inheritance its the vessels' desires...last regrets.... DAMN team cherry, that symbolism is clever as heck. That took me a while. Kinda funny how a will is, technically, a person's last regrets Like I knew they were last regrets but I didn't understand WHY. Duh, it's because they're literally Made Of Will. They are the vessel's "wills". I'm so stupid.

Ghost, walking thru the abyss, getting increasingly fed up / freaked out, ducking into a crack in the wall. They follow the crack into the Scream Chamber, pause, then exhale in relief that this was EXACTLY what they needed.

Ghost's shade rolling up its void-sleeves like “fuck it, ima defeat thk myself”

Why was thk's sword there? Was its pedestal decayed? Did it fall from their body? Was it place there as an afterthought, or hurriedly? alt: taking thk's sword before freeing them, but doing the mom thing like you're grounding them hdhfjchjch

I can’t believe it just occured to me now, but... as objectivley stupid as the vessel’s test was, Ghost... technically came in second place. What if that whole scene was a metaphor? Because really, it’s just too silly to take seriously. To do so isn’t too far fetched, either; many other elements in the game’s story are better taken as symbolic or metaphorical, anyways. Take the PoP cutscene- while it could’ve been a literal moment, where they just happened to find themselves standing around and took the moment to appreciate each other... imo it makes much more sense to read it as the concept of their faint ~forbidden love~ and parental pride itself. Or, better yet, the scene at the end of the 4th pantheon. Sorry, but I severely doubt that was an actual event. What I’m trying to get at is the significance of “second place” in the cutscene. My brain is too fried to chase down any other possible connections to this theme rn (if thats even what the theme is), but even without proof, the theory smooths out a few interesting tidbits related to just how Ghost could tough it out when all others failed. All except for #1, anyway. Either way I’m just happy to take this as an excuse to pretend that cutscene didn’t literally happen because like, l m a o

The story of a small group of vessels as they work together to escape hallownest. (aka the aforementioned vessel gang hc... im sure theres a more formal name but you get the idea). Its impossible to tell how long it took them to discover that near-invisible hole, the last exit remaining after the king ordered the abyss to be sealed up. Once they did, however, the remaining vessels were quick to make a desperate scramble to escape- only for the entrance to suddenly crumble shut, far, far too soon. The remaining 8 slowly made their way through deepnest, their numbers quickly dwindling as the jouney started to take its toll. The group was nearly wiped out by those terrible, spiney-legged creatures that used their own kinship against them. Only three finally escaped the deep, yet only two made it through the basin- the third, largest sibling, left to fight alone againt a hopeless battle, just to buy the others time. It was in greenpath, so close yet so far to their goal, that the second succumbed to the infection. It was a mercy killing, that nail through the heart. The last, after all of that, finally made their way to the very precipice of howling cliffs, hesitating for just a moment to gaze out upon the still-fresh ruins of hallownest. But only for a moment, before Ghost jumps down to begin their journey beyond this wretched place.

A vessel running from its shade as it tirelessly pursues them, the vessel refusing to put it to rest.

tw: suicide, + personal on main

Ugh ugh ugh ugh Either thk was fully conscious and in terrible pain for all those years... or they couldn’t feel anything at all. The former is horrible, but imagining thk waking up, chained, unable to do anything but wait for Ghost to heed their call? Did they turn their nail on themselves to help Ghost, end the pain, or some awful mix of both? For someone who has personally dealt with close friends and family that struggled with suicide themselves, hollowknight is one of the worst horror stories I've ever seen. And the fact that the story is so personal, so open to interpretation? The fact that each character is so genuine yet vague enough to be read completely differently to someone else’s biases? Its why hollow knight- the game, and the character- will forever be one of the most powerful stories to me.

in short, good LORD THIS GAME IS SO FUCKING SAD

[dipplie]

Temporary list of my stories and OC’s until one day I make a comprehensive and well made list:

Blinded:

Polli: My oldest OC and fun fact was my persona till she become edgy and I wasn’t 12 anymore. Everyone’s favorite yes yes I’m aware. Yellow, energetic, eats dirt and bugs, I can’t tell if she’s evil because of a wisp possession or just crazy. Breaks the 4th wall. Is she a Mary Sue???????? Who knows.

Melody: NOT Polli’s girlfriend despite Polli’s delousions. Has an abusive mom :(. Only has one eye and then no eyes and then robot eyes or smthn idk she becomes a badass when she gets older. But otherwise trembling in her shoes all the time.

Melodys Mom/Sharren: Bitch. Okay well all I’ll say is she’s old and grumpy and probably smells bad.

Louise: Total hotty, rich kid, FtM, got bullied as a kid for his weight. Had a squad of fans basically in high school. Lived with his mom after his parents got a divorce but his mom was semi abusive, projected her femininity onto him, and wouldn’t have been supportive of his transition, so between middle and high school he went to live with his dad and got his sex change and testosterone. His best friend in elementary and middle school stopped talking to him after his transition, and became his competition for the most attractive and sought after boy in school (except Louise is a sweetheart while his friend Tommy is a dick and really gross) His dad runs a company that specializes in technology, and after meeting and falling in love with Melody (even after all her abusive trauma and losing both her eyes) he has his dad and some of the developers create a way to get her vision back and I mean honestly I love him how could you not love him he’s so perfect.

Watching:

Fick: Big nerd boy with thick glasses. I feel like he’d use Reddit but don’t quote me on that. Big crush on Vivinya. Boy don’t wander into the woods- oh look dead body with a curse on it don’t touch it- aaaand now he has a wisp that makes him kill people, way to go kid. Panic attack central.

Vivinya: True crime girl, yucky yucky. Probably had a knife collection. “uwu I’m insane” except she actually is and starts using Fick to kill people for her and treats him like her “Yandere boyfriend” or something cringe and gross oh god. She deserves jail. JAIL. Needs to learn guys need to give consent too. Just overall sucks 1/10.

Tommy: I mentioned him early to be Louises ex best friend and rival. He used to have a crush on Louise actually but that don’t excuse being a BITCH!!!! Also needs to learn people gotta give consent he is just as gross as Vivinya. Cheats on all the girls he gets with because he’s again, a bitch. Idk if he deserved to get murdered though I mean he was still a teenager but it’s fine. Thinks of the song Seventeen from Heathers actually this story does feel a tad reminiscent of heathers with vivinya being a crazy and wanting to off a bunch of students. Huh.

Suzannie: Tommy’s older sister who’s a detective. What a coincidence. Monotone and depressed. Probably because her little brother got murdered. Gets real awkward when she’s talking about her brothers murder(s) to Fick and Vivinya like “when I find who did this to him they’ll regret being born”. Kind of really pretty actually.

Adolescents (there isn’t actually a story here yet but don’t worry about it shhhh):

Nelson: HIMBO HIMBO H- Jock stupid idiot big dork god he’s so awkward and his main personality trait is having a crush on Naomi and being a dork when talking to her. Probably could benchpress you.

Naomi: Gamer or something and a nerd geek. Her main personality trait is having a crush on Nelson and also being a dork when talking to him. Probably a weeb and fandom dweller. Can’t draw but she commissions artists to draw. She does write copious amounts of fanfiction though.

Andrés: Ohhh the school bad boy babyyyy. Baseball bat with nails in it or something. There’s like... A thing between him in Charlotte and he wants to be a thing but she’s being difficult and makes it hard to talk to her or about her and ugh.

Charlotte: Princess, high school princess. She’s actually pretty nice when you get to know her- but she’s a diva. Ballerina after school. Best friends with Naomi and doesn’t know what she’s talking about when she mentions ships or OTPs but she listens anyways because she’s a good friend. There’s like... A thing between her and Andrés but she doesn’t know if she’s super into him but geez he’s really hot but she gets such mixed responses when she asks her friends about it and what if it doesn’t work outttt.

Marlon: They/Them but they’re okay with either pronouns they aren’t sure yet, he or she is okay... Box boy box boy. Autism... He doesn’t want to admit He’s attracted to men but he’s totally attracted to men. He lives alone which is probably illegal for his age but somehow he manages. Everyone thinks he’s “the quiet kid” and he’s really sad about it no don’t make jokes like that please guys ahh-

Sing for Me:

Kat: The color pink, addahadda(adhd), angry and loud and short. For being only like 10 and being an adorable little lesbian dressing in sparkly pink dresses she actually likes screaming a lot and would totally sing heavy metal if her producers let her. Loud and mad but gets so soft around her girlfriend. “If anything happens to Brie I’m killing everyone in this room and then myself”.

Brie: French... Birds and stuff. Loves her girlfriend even though she is so loud. So fast. So much. Likes to write pretty things. Is only like an inch taller than Kat. Filled with so much love for everything.

Elliot: The girls manager. Lots of coffee. Stressed out of his MIND please help this man. Probably gay. Seems like a smug dick but he is just a tall and lanky dork that loves puppies and wants nothing more than for Kat and Brie to be happy. Accidentally brands them as sisters and then Kat kisses Brie and- oh fuck oh shit oh no what has he done. Hides the fan and non fan responses from them. Poor guy.

Horror Hosts:

Ichabod: Hot demon who’s the son of the current ruler of hell or something. I mean he’s hot, smart, and royalty, what more do you want. I very specifically hear the dub voice of Kyoya Ootori from OHHC as his voice don’t @ me. Goat legs????? Yeah??? Don’t be rude.

Barnabie: Ohhhhhhhhh big orc teddy bear I’m crying I love him????? He puts up a more confident ploy and the given stereotypical personality orcs supposedly have but he’s just a shy boy that wants to give girls flowers and call boys pretty. Help him.

Garrison: Gary Burger. Fat hairy gay man. I mean werewolf. Wouldn’t it be funny if I made the whole werewolf thing backwards and made him transform into a HUMAN only on the full moon??? Party animal, pun absolutely intended. LOUD AND FUNNY he’s a dork. Bites. Horny on main Garrison please you’re supposed pamper and flirt with the guests but not quite that much.

Vincenzo: Token Vampire but he’s Italian because I felt like it. Talk and lanky of course. Bitch face. Blood coffee? Yeah lots of coffee. Tired. Let him sleep in Ichabod. Steps on people. Can summon and reanimate corpses but has a bitter attitude towards them because they get annoyed with him as much as he gets annoyed with- everyone else. He does have a soft spot but idk where it is. When he’s talking to guests he’s more suave and sexy though.

Kai: Genderfluid haha get it because slime fluid-... I’ll stop. Probably objectively the hottest because they can look anyway they want and shift their vocals to sound like almost anything, also probably objectively the best in bed (if you’re okay with the texture of Jell-o) and honestly come on save some for the rest of us it’s not fair. This boy can SING oh my god seranade me and whisper in my ear baby. Spunky and sassy.

Hallvor: BABY OCTOPOD BOY OHHHHH I LOVE HIM HE’S SO SWEET AND IS AN ANGEL DARLING BOY SO EMBARRASSED SO SHY SOFTEST VOICE OHHH- ohhh nooo he’s got a knife ohhhhh Hallvor baby don’t be like that ohhhh... Used to work in hentai actually (I wonder why) but quit because of immoral practices and good for him we love that. Okay he’s not actually a yandere or whatever but he DEFINITELY wants to squeeze you a little too hard and has those crazy eyes.

Carla: Main character of this OHHC monster clone. She sucks I don’t like her because listen listen she kills monsters as a living and when she tries to kill our boys here, Ichabod catches her and goes “no” but then the rest (not knowing her murderous intent) fall in love with her and Ichabod is like: “shoot well I’ll keep you alive and around but I’m watching you” and blah blah romance and feelings and character development and wow she seems like she’s grown to care about them... So Ichabod removes a curse he put to prevent her from harming them or leaving... AND THEN SHE STABS THEM ALL IN THE BACK IM CRYING. I mean she might have an extra reason for needing to kill them but I haven’t decided if I want to actually put it in the story yet so.

Fingertips:

Maria/Marianna: Was this goth angry chick and the head of these losers but after a failed heist, fire, and being betrayed and dropped from a window on a 3rd or 4th story down into flames, and going to the hospital and changing her name, she changed totally and become a soft pretty girl... And then the next three boys went “HEY BOSS WE FOUND YOU” and she went “oh no” and now she’s just an anxious wreck like “no no no no no I don’t shoot people in the face anymore no no no no no” And has a fear of hands. Also was Diamontés best friend in primary school and yes all these characters went to the K-12 school all the other characters do/did. Pretty voice. The story is mostly about her being anxious around all the other characters because who was it that betrayed her and dropped her into the flames below? Find out next week on th-

Nikki: He’s that character that you see and immediately go “oh he’s gross and is angry and is a bitch” and you’re right he is and has a cockney accent and screams a lot and probably swings a knife around a lot, but he’s got a sweet interior (somewhere in there... somewhere) Screamo heavy metal. Him and the rest of these character briefly talked about having a band and then they didn’t and then at the end of the story they do and although he plays guitar mostly, if he does do lead vocals he screams a lot. Bitch.

Anthony: Pretty boy but like the “was in the army” pretty boy vibe. Probably played football in highschool. Pyromaniac. Punches Nikki a lot. Almost gives himbo vibes sometimes, almost. Kind of likes the old timey cozy aesthetic. Plays the piano sometimes but “oh I’m not very good at it” Plays extremely well

Diamonté: TALL. Purple goth boy aesthetic hellll yeahhhh. CRAZY EYES AND THEY SPEAK VOLUMES WATCH OUT. Drums. The scary kind of quiet because he just smiles at you. Crowbar. Okay but he’s actually really sweet though. Secretly loves watching Anthony and Nikki get into fights so that’s why he rarely puts a stop to it. I think he’s a sadist. Can be a gentle giant, but can also be a not so gentle giant. The only time he’s really talkative is after copious amounts of booze.

Unnamed/Undesigned 1: Literally a pimp and he’s pretty gross. Blonde hair and pink and white clothes.

Unnamed/Undesigned 2: Chick that likes to throw knives and be angry and threatens Marianna a lot but in a quiet and monotone way, Marianna is pretty scared and hopes that these are just shallow threats uhhhhh.

Unnamed/Undesigned 3: Sells guns (without a lisence of course) and wears a bandana over his face a lot. Tired. Grumpy.

Unnamed/Undesigned 4: Like Marianna, was cold hearted and cool but then got caught in the fire and got all soft. He only has one eyes but how sweet his eyepatch is a heart. Recoved along side Marianna and they are good friends good friends tha- wait Marianna are you going back with them oh god you can’t do that oh dear oh no oh-

(I don’t have a story or name for these two but they’re my comfort ship OC’s and my current hyper fixaction right now):

Rodriquéz: I literally designed him with almost all the traits I find attractive in a guy other than freckles so as you can imagine I find him super HOT. I also designed his personality on what I find attractive from a guy so as you can imagine I find him super GREAT. But anyways he’s grumpy and closed off and monotone and smug. I really could go on for hours about how I want him to step on me I’m so sorry guys. Both him and Samantha give the “21 and having immature fun” vibes. They’re a thing but they like going to bars together and splitting off and doing their own thing (or doing someone else’s thing if you get what I mean haHhahHhahGahGhaha-) But so help them if anyone doesn’t oblige by the “no” from one of these two, someone’s gonna get beat up.

Samantha: (She literally just my personality shhhhh don’t tell anyone it’s a secret) Bubbly, energetic, a little shy by extroverted, bombshell blonde or something? It took me way too much time and effort to design her but I’m really happy with how I finally designed her, I love her outfit. She could kick me in the face and I’d say thank you. Girly drinks at the bar. Got that trauma and anxiety™️ secretly though. Skips and jumps a lot. As I’m typing this I keep looking up at the drawing of her and more and more I would want her to also step on me.

(Space Story I don’t have a nice title for):

Unnamed/Undesigned 1: So... Funny story this story originally was with me and uh... My ex I guess... So I gotta replace the MC’s... Whoops ahaha... Awkward. But anyways the MC is a robot and a girl and is a slight tsundere or smthn.

Unamed/Undesigned 2: Has a space ship, works for this organization in space that protects the galaxy. Is cocky, lazy, sly, oblivious, and an idiot. The love interest- obviously. Probably accidentally committing space crimes. (Like space pirating hAHAHA-) Kind of cool when he wants to be.

Dandelion/Dandy: CAT. WITH A JET PACK. Kind of an asshole. Fun fact used to be Polli’s cat but then when the Second MC crash landed on earth she was like “fuck this noise I’m going with space boy laterz” (okay she can’t talk but she thought it).

Zizii: Lesbian alien? Yeah???? Okay but I mean her main character trait is being a dorky back alley doctor and engineer obsessed with the MC because they’re a sentient robot with emotions and a lazer arm and rocket boots WOW!!!!!!!!

Story I want to revive:

So I had a story I started writing a long time ago about this tech theatre kid that had a crush on this other theatre kid character, but in a play that other character has to kiss another person for the show, and as the story progresses the MC convinces themselves that it isn’t just a play and that their crush actually loves and is kissing that other kid. And in the play, that other character is supposed to die. Show night comes along and they die, but like actually, and by the hands of the MC (Idk maybe like a light falls on em or smthn). So it’s a grotesque scene the audience sees as just an act. (Mutters I dunno I think my idea’s cool...) So I’ve been wanting to design these characters and work more on the story but I’m busy being obsessed with Rodriquez and Samantha so. (And the Horror Host Club too I love them too still).

Other Characters that either don’t have a specific story or are kind of like background characters:

Jacqueiliquinne Merril: Sara Berry vibes from 35mm (go look up The Ballad of Sara Berry, maybe like an animatic idk the first one that comes up is nice) But otherwise rich, pretty, popular, bitch. Tries to like, steal Louise from his squad and it’s like bro that’s unnecessary who hurt you that’s so rude. She gives Nui from Kill La Kill Vibes too. Oh she knows her name is long and annoying but you have to say the whole thing.

Brianna: Jaqueiliquinne’s sister. Big titty goth gf??? She’s pretty popular too and kind of a bitch too but to a much lesser degree. Her and he sister throw hands a lot when no one is around, you know, “THEY GIRLS ARE FIGHTINNGGGG”.

The Louise Fan Club: 4 characters I haven’t named yet. One writes fanfiction of Louise and shares it with the others and with him sometimes and although he thinks it’s a bit weird he also finds it a tad endearing and supports her. One is an aspiring photographer and is constantly asking Louise to model for him. One is an artist and draws Louise all the time. And one is an aspiring musician who writes songs based of Louise’s relationships which again he finds a little weird but endearing and supports her.

The Jacquiliquinne Merril Fan Club: Genderbent-ish (I say ish because one of the characters is a little bit less defined gender wise) versions of the Louise Fan Club. Yes I’m lazy, and no they don’t get along with them, infact they hate each others club with a passion. 

Unnamed/Undesigned: I wanna make some hacker kid just because I wanna have one.

Unnamed/Undesigned: I also really wanna have a super cutesy magical girl and then a really super duper generic boring character probably like star vs the forces of evil idk I never watched that show but it looks cute.

Me: I exist in the universe fukc you I can do what I want it’s my story and I get to chose the who also if you wanna be in the mess of a universe go ahead draw yourself with my OC’s I allow and encourage and appreciate it. I literally made the Horror Host Club as a sort of Harem story and you are absolutely allowed to make out with them if you’re a monster fucker DO it GO ahead it’s canon.

and that is ALL I have FOR now Knowing me I’ll make like 12 more characters by July, and I mean I need more characters for the high school anyways so...

[ragingbookdragon]

To Challenge The Flow Of Fate PT. 4

An Adrian Tepes (Alucard) x Reader Story

Warnings: Explicit Language Author’s Note: So, AO3 counts the words on your stories and stuff, and if you add up all the parts I’ve written so far plus this, it’s like 11K words. Which is impressive to me. Enjoy! -Thorne

She had just fastened the last belt when his voice reached her. “(Y/N)! Get over here!” She stuck her head out from the side of the shelf and called out,

           “Gimme a minute, I’m still getting dressed Trevor!”

           “Are you seriously taking the armor?” (Y/N) scoffed and attached the cape around her neck.

           “Uh, yes? This armor is the greatest creation to ever be made.” She eyed the sword next to the armor stand before grabbing it and fastening it next to the other blade down her back. She walked over to where the others were, smiling at Adrian as he sat atop the bookshelves. Trevor glanced at her, examining the armor.

           “It looks very…ostentatious.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes before placing her hands on her hips.

           “Trev, just say ‘showy’. Your brain will explode if you think about words that big.” Her insult drew a chuckle from the vampire, but she continued with, “The armor itself is made from dragon scales, and the accents are pure silver.” She turned, showing the silver armor lining her arms. Trevor crossed his arms and asked,

           “I thought dragons went extinct?” (Y/N) shook her head.

           “Not necessarily. While it’s true that a great deal of them were slain and harvested, a great deal more went into hiding. They’re still out there, you just can’t find them as easily as you could centuries ago.” Impressed, he nodded before acknowledging the sword strapped to her back.

           “And the second sword?” (Y/N) grinned, pulling it out and showing it to him.

           “It’s called ‘Starfang’.” He took it, admiring the runes carved into the metal. “It was forged from ore that fell from the heavens.” Trevor blinked, running a hand up the flat side of the blade.

           “It’s…beautiful.” Her grin grew and she added,

           “It’s deadly too.” She pointed to the runes. “The carvings are enchantments.” He handed the sword back, watching as she returned it to its scabbard. “What did you want me over here for?” He nodded at the shattered mirror.

           “Do you know what this is?” (Y/N) momentarily glanced at it before looking back at him and nonchalantly replied,

           “Seven years back luck?” He huffed a laugh.

           “Probably…but what the hell is it?” Sypha looked up from a book she was reading.

           “You two don’t know?” The siblings shrugged and shook their heads. “This is your house.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes.

           “Yeah, that neither of us have been in for almost a decade and a half.” Trevor smirked as he wiped a hand across it, looking over his shoulder at the Speaker.

           “Do you know everything in your house?” Sypha moved closer to the mirror, turning to him with a sarcastic look.

           “I don’t have a house.” A voice sounded from higher above them.

           “She doesn’t have a house.” The three looked up and Adrian. “She’s a Speaker. She’s a nomad.” Trevor glared at the vampire as he hopped down from the bookshelves.

           “It was rhetorical.”

           “Rhetorical house that she doesn’t have.”

           “Just, tell me what it is.” Sypha glanced back at it.

           “It was a magic mirror.” Adrian pointed at it.

           “Also known as distance mirrors.” He ran his gloved hand down the side, feeling the runes. “Some of them even allow matter to pass through them, but…” He paused a moment. “No. No this is a simple remote viewing mirror. A little of the activating language is chipped.” He looked back at the trio. “A few of the runes need re-cutting but workable.” Adrian smirked at her brother. “You have the most fascinating family junkyard, Belmont.” (Y/N) internally sighed as her brother got in the vampire’s face and fired back,

           “You’re a cock wart, Alucard.” Sypha pulled his hand down, tugging him away.

           “Stop it.” She pulled Trevor around the shelves. “You are an adult. You do not have to rise to his every barb.” (Y/N) couldn’t see his expression, but she knew it was one of irritation.

           “He’s pissing me off like it’s his job, Sypha.” Before the Speaker could get a word in, (Y/N) quipped,

           “Oh no, someone else knocking my brother down a few pegs besides me. What ever shall we do?” The two ignored them, going off into their own conversation, leaving her next to Adrian. When laughter sounded from behind the shelves, she watched Adrian’s expression change, then he looked over his shoulder towards the noise; she gave him a sad smile. “You didn’t have many friends growing up, did you Adrian?” He turned his head back around, staring at her with careful eyes.

           “What makes you say that?” (Y/N) hummed, running a finger down the mirror.

           “Every time the two of them start laughing, you get this…confused expression on your face, like you can’t understand what’s so funny.” He continued to watch her with his guarded look.

           “Maybe I don’t understand.” She huffed a laugh, turning to him.

           “Oh, don’t even go there. You’re smarter than the lot of us, and you definitely know when someone’s making a joke.” (Y/N) paused, thinking of her next sentence, then she murmured, “It’s because you’re too guarded.” Adrian raised an eyebrow.

           “Too guarded?” She nodded.

           “You’re too cautious. You won’t allow yourself to get close to us because you’re afraid of what might happen.” Evidently, he didn’t like the way the conversation was headed, because he narrowed his eyes into a glower.

           “And what am I afraid of happening?” (Y/N) gazed at him and challenged,

           “You’re afraid that if you let yourself get close to people, what happened to your mother and father will happen to you.” She watched Adrian’s expression morph from anger, to shock, to realization, and she placed her hand on his arm. “You’re scared that something will take what you care about away, and you’ll be left alone.” He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, but no words came out, and the sound of a tolling bell reached their ears. He looked up, listening to the chimes.

           “What was that?” She moved her eyes to the ceiling.

           “The tower clock. It strikes at twelve times at midnight.” (Y/N) looked back at him, leaning close to nudge him in the ribs. “Adrian Tepes, I’ve officially known and been your friend for four days now.” He looked down at her, golden eyes boring into hers.

           “And that means?” She flashed him a smile, nudging him again.

           “Means that no matter where we are, or what roads we take in these lives, I will always be on your side.” He blinked in stunned silence, and she reached down, taking his hand in hers. “Now come on. There’s a whole bunch of weird shit in here that needs to be seen by the two of us.” Adrian complied, letting her tug him around.

           “Why does it need to be seen by us? We’ve both agreed that we’re not overly fond of what your family does.” (Y/N) nodded as she dragged him to a shelf full of things she didn’t even know how to name.

           “Well yeah…but all the more reason for us to go see the weird shit my family hoarded and take the piss out of them. Like…that!” She paused, pointing to a plant that was lined with rows of sharp teeth. “The fuck kind of mutated Venus Fly Trap is that?” She then pointed to a stone head sitting on another shelf. “And that! Who the fuck keeps a stone head in a case? And over there!” (Y/N) turned to another shelf, starting to pull him along when he tugged her to a stop. She spun back around, looking at him with a questioning gaze. Adrian gave her a small smile and shifted their hands, lacing his fingers with hers. When she glanced down at their joined hands, then to back his face, she noticed a faint pink dusting his cheeks, as he murmured,

           “So I don’t lose you.” (Y/N) grinned and squeezed his hand, pulling him along.

A Few Hours Later:

           She rested her head along his arm, leaning her body against his as he flipped through the index. She had her own book in front of her, occasionally flipping through the pages, reading the various entries. “For a monster hunter that hates monster hunting, you sure do enjoy reading about them.” (Y/N) hummed, adjusting her head against his arm.

           “It’s not that I ‘hate’ hunting per se. There are some creatures that cannot be dissuaded from evil or cured of their circumstances. Those creatures are dangerous to innocent life. Regardless, I might dislike hunting them, but it can’t hurt to be knowledgeable about them.” She turned the page and nodded at it. “Take the ‘Revenant’ for example. It’s a term that’s been used interchangeably to describe vampires and ghosts, but most agree that it’s the basic term for the undead. There are various descriptions of them ranging from the Nordic countries to all of Europe.” Adrian paused, looking down at the book.

           “How so?” She flipped through the pages.

           “See here?” (Y/N) pointed to a page with a drawing. “That’s a Revenant, but in the Nordic countries, they call them Draugrs or Aptrgangrs. It translates to ‘again-walker’, or one who walks after death.” She flipped back to the original page. “The entries are even different. In Nordic indexes, the Draugrs are emaciated, with their skin stretched out over their skeletons. But they still retain their strength, and are extremely difficult to fight and destroy, as they’re impervious to many types of weapons. Here in Wallachia and the surrounding countries, indexes describe Revenants as the corpses of the dead that have been reanimated by powerful demons, capable of killing entire squads of even experienced warriors. They’re…” (Y/N) trailed off, shifting her head so she could see his face. He looked at her, waiting for her to finish, and she laughed nervously. “Sorry…I talk a lot about stuff like this.” Adrian smiled, shaking his head.

           “No, please continue. It’s interesting to learn the differences of the creatures of the night between countries.” (Y/N) nodded, moving her eyes back to the book.

           “Okay, well…even vampires are considered different in other countries. They’re also mistaken for other creatures too. In Wallachia, the term ‘Strigoi’ was used until the term ‘vampire’ and ‘vampirism’ came into being. Others call vampires ‘Vrykolakas’ or ‘Pricolici’, but that’s incorrect. Vrykolakas, while sharing characteristics with vampires, engage more in cannibalism as they prefer to eat livers, and Pricolici are werewolf and vampire hybrids, living life as a werewolf, but once dead, returns as a vampire. Actually, that’s where the belief that vampires can turn into animals such as wolves, dogs, owls, and bats, came from. In other coun-” (Y/N) cut herself off as she raised a hand to her mouth, yawning. “Mmm, sorry. As I was saying-” This time, Adrian cut her off.

           “How long has it been since you slept?” (Y/N) glanced up at him, shrugging her shoulders.

           “Dunno. Yesterday morning, I think? A few hours before we left.” He frowned at her.

           “You think? You didn’t sleep in the wagon?” She shook her head.

           “I was trained to sleep only in places where there was no movement.” He arched an eyebrow and inquired,

           “Why’s that?” (Y/N) pulled away, stretching her limbs.

           “Sleeping on a surface that is immobile allows to hear and detect things that are approaching you. I get on wagons and I become too alert to sleep.” He gestured to a bookshelf, and they sat down next to one another.

           “When we fought the night creatures after we left Gresit, you said you could sense them. You could also hear their footsteps.” (Y/N) nodded, reclining against the shelf.

           “At Ravensguard, hunters and huntresses undergo extensive training and experimentation to enhance their bodies. As a result, we achieve the ability to wield magic, our bodies are stronger, and our senses are enhanced greatly.” Adrian glanced down at her and wondered,

           “The processes sound dangerous…I can’t imagine that many survive.” With a grimace, (Y/N) nodded.

           “Very few make it…even fewer are able to handle the stress it takes on the mind and body.” She paused then whispered, “…I almost didn’t.” For a moment, he didn’t respond, then he leaned close, gently taking her hand.

           “What made you fight to survive?” (Y/N) sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

           “My brother.” Adrian grunted, but she smiled and added, “My parents learned at an exceedingly early time that I wasn’t going to carry on the Belmont name like Trevor was. And while they loved me, they couldn’t take me continually refusing to adhere to it. Our family has always had a tie to the Order, so as soon as they could, they sent me to the fortress.” She went silent, then said, “I don’t think my parents knew that only a few people survived coming out of there alive, so I know they didn’t send me there hoping I died.” Adrian squeezed her hand and asked,

           “How old were you when they sent you away?”

           “I was nine. I trained until I was eighteen, and when I left and traveled back home, I was met by a ruin.” (Y/N) clenched her jaw, trying to suppress her hurt. “The only thing that kept me alive during my training was the thought of coming back home to see my brother, the one person who respected that I didn’t want to be a supernatural hunter, and I returned to a burned down home and no family in sight. I travelled for a year and a half before I ran into him. And it was pure luck that I did.”

           “What happened?”

           “Hunters and huntresses aren’t exactly ‘given jobs’, we simply protect and bring justice where it’s needed. In my search for Trevor, I’d heard of a town that was being plagued by supposed dead men walking. I travelled there to see if I could help, and I was run into by a drunkard who was stumbling out of the inn.” She gazed up at him, a grin on her face. “Three guesses on who the drunkard was.” He chuckled, and she thought back to the moment she re-met her brother.

           The militia seemed happy to see another fighter amongst them, especially one who was trained. She walked down the street after leaving the mayor’s home, intent on finding the inn so she could get a meal before going to search for the origins of the undead that plagued the town. She paused, waving over a young boy who couldn’t have been older than ten. “You there, young man!” He walked over, looking at her as she waved a gold coin. “Got a coin here for you if you tell me where the inn is, and any other news you’ve heard.” The boy’s eyes grew as he stared at the coin in her hand, and he nodded excitedly.

           “Go to the end of the street and take a left, there’s the inn. I haven’t heard much, but I heard the militia saying that old man Thompson was the one making the dead come.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows.

           “Why’s that?” The boy shrugged.

           “I don’t know but Ma says he dabbles in the dark arts like the Belmonts did.” Her jaw clenched at the rumor, but she pushed it aside and asked,

           “One more question and the coin is yours. Where’s old man Thompson live?” The boy pointed to a house far outside the town.

           “He lives in that house over there. He doesn’t come out much since his wife died a year ago.” (Y/N) glanced at it and frowned, then turned and tossed the coin to the boy before heading off towards the inn. She’d just reached the doors when they slammed open and a figure stumbled into her. She caught him, holding him up right.

           “Hey. You okay there?” The man nodded and rambled,

           “Y-yeah…just had a few drinks.” (Y/N) tipped her head to the side as she stared into his face; the man frowned at her. “Somethin’ on my face?” Realization hit her and she whispered,

           “Trevor?” His eyebrows furrowed as he stared at her, then his eyes went wide and he breathed,

           “(Y/N)?” She smiled, laughing tearfully, and exclaimed,

           “I can’t believe I’ve run into you! I’ve been looking for you!” A smile grew across his face and it held for a second, then he grimaced. She felt her heart sink as she asked, “Trevor? What’s wro-” Her words fell short as he bent over.

           “And he threw up all over my feet, then went, ‘wow, I feel so much better now.’” (Y/N) watched Adrian cover his mouth as he laughed. When he calmed, she laid her head back against his shoulder and mused, “We’ve been together ever since.”

           “You two are remarkably close for not exactly growing up together. And extremely protective of one another.” She nodded.

           “We’re all the family we have…it’s our job to look out for each other.” (Y/N) grunted. “Other times I want to push him off a cliff because he’s the biggest pain in my ass I’ve ever had.” Adrian snorted and she yawned again, struggling to keep her eyes open. “Personally, I make it…my job…to…return the…favor…” Adrian felt her go slack against his side, and as he looked down at her, he realized just how exhausted she was. He smiled, gently placed his coat over her body, enjoying the way she snuggled closer, and closed his eyes too letting himself rest his head against hers.

[banditthewriter]

Electric Love - Billy Russo - 4

Ah, here we go. Hope you like it! There’s still some flashbacks, but you guys know how much I love flashbacks.

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

*gif is mine*

Enjoy!

*****

The water from your shower soaked into the towel as you dried off. It had been a long evening after you finally convinced Billy to join you back in bed. The two of you had curled up together, but neither of you had been able to go back to sleep.

Billy had run to Anvil early that morning, leaving you alone for the first time in days. You had inspected every inch of the penthouse, using this time as a way to get to know Billy once more. What books he read, what movies he kept on hand, what food and alcohol he kept stocked. It was a little insight to the man you had known and you were pleasantly surprised that while his address might have changed, he hadn't. 

After a few hours of that, you decided to shower. Without shampoo of your own, you used his products. The comforting scent of him was a balm to your chaotic mind.

You had brought the one bag of your belongings with you to Billy's place. It consisted of nothing but clothes, but there still wasn't a lot.

You had nothing to your name it felt like.

Well. Not nothing. You turned the ring on your finger and felt happiness bubble up in your stomach. Here it was, your future. It wasn't the same as your future had been before your death, but it belonged to you. 

You stepped into the living room and smiled when you saw Billy. He came over to greet you with a kiss, his fingers chasing a stray water droplet down your neck. 

"I don't know why it surprises me that you can get wet," he said as he leaned in for another kiss. "There's still so much about your powers that I don't understand."

You laughed and turned around to deposit your dirty clothes into a hamper. Technically you wore one of his t-shirts to bed since you didn't really have pajamas of your own. Then you dropped your towel to tug on some underwear. 

"Join the club. Every time I think I have a handle on my powers, I learn something else."

Like that you could touch Billy without hurting him when you hadn't been able to touch other people. Or that you could feel his presence and emotions sometimes, deep in your chest. 

Low on your side was a light mark that never faded. The meta that had the power of healing wasn't able to heal completely, but you didn't mind a few marks. There were a few others from your time under the creator, but most of them had been small enough to disappear. 

"How'd this happen?"

You turned and saw Billy's eyes on your side. His hand came out and pressed against it, your skin humming at the contact. 

"Bullet," you said as you looked at the bag with your clothes in it. "We had a healer, but it wasn't as good as when the creator brought us back. Left some reminders."

His fingers moved over your body and touched each one that he could find. It wouldn't surprise you if you saw sparks flying around his fingers from how it felt. And when he ducked down to press his lips against your shoulder—a mark left from a knife attack—you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning.

"Billy," you said in a warning tone, even as your hand went to grasp at his hair in a less than warning way. 

"You won't hurt me," he promised hotly in your ear as he tugged your body towards his, heat and strength at your back as he continued to kiss up your neck. "I finally have you back in my life. Now I want you back in my bed."

His hand started to move down towards your underwear. It took some will power to push his hand away. Then you turned in his grasp so that you could meet his eyes.

"I can't take that chance, not yet. Please, just give me more time to be sure I can control myself with you." 

You touched his neck, feeling his chest expanding against yours. As much as you wanted to be with him like that, to have him on top of you and under you and inside of you… you couldn't take that chance. 

If you hurt him, it would kill you. 

"I love you."

He leaned in to kiss you, soft and gentle compared to the heat in his eyes. You tangled your fingers into his hair as you returned the kiss happily. 

"I love you too," you mumbled against his mouth, your lips numb from the intense tingling.

"Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere."

He swatted at your backside with a grin before he turned to head to his closet. While he changed into more casual clothes, you pulled on some nondescript dark clothing.

Once upon a time, you owned a lot of sundresses and lazy clothes. Then, when you and Billy started your vigilante ways, it turned to dark tactical clothes. 

The way you dressed now was the same as your vigilante days.

"You need new clothes," Billy said as the two of you got into the elevator together, his hand tugging on the dark jacket you wore. "Not that there's anything wrong with what you wear, but you don't have that much right now."

You smiled as you looked down at the outfit you had grabbed. It was simple and comfortable, worked for the jobs that you were used to. 

But things were different now. After you finished up with Rawlins, you could have a normal life. Well, as normal as it got when you operated as a lightning rod and were technically dead.

"Is that where you're taking me, shopping? I didn't bring money."

Billy wrapped his arms around your waist and dropped his chin to your shoulder.

"I can buy you whatever you want," he promised with a kiss to the spot just in front of your ear, "but no, there's something else we need to do first."

You wanted to tell him about your financials, but decided to wait. Instead you covered the hands he had pressed to your stomach and gave them a squeeze.

"So where are we going?"

Billy flipped one hand to cover yours.

"We're gonna go see Frank."

------

The house looked like something out of a horror movie. There were a few houses nearby, all in about the same state of upkeep. Or lack thereof. There was a rundown car parked in the driveway and Billy pulled up behind it.

His car definitely stood out.

He led you from the car to the front porch. He didn't knock on the door but used a key on his key chain to let himself in.

"Honey I'm home," he called with a grin before he tugged you in behind him.

"Yeah yeah, asshole, what's this you wanted to show me?" A figure came out of a long hallway and froze once he spotted you. "What the fuck?"

You gave a half smile as you let Frank look you over. He looked good, even if his beard and hair made him resemble a caveman more than a military man. 

"Hey Frankie," you greeted as you took a step forward, "It's good to see you."

Alive. Because Frank Castle was dead. You'd seen the news while you still worked for the creator, a hollowness spreading through you at the thought. It was an explosion and you stayed up late at night thinking about how he must have suffered in the end.

The only consolation was that he was with Maria and the kids again.

In the present, Frank stumbled towards you with his hands put. He hovered uncertainly a few feet away.

"Is she a ghost?"

You laughed, hearing Billy do the same.

"Why do people keep assuming that?"

Without waiting for an answer, you wrapped your arms around Frank so that he could feel how solid you were. In that moment, you weren't scared of frying Frank. Maybe that's why you didn't. 

He clutched onto you right before he pulled away from you, just far enough to look at your face.

"How in the hell are you alive? I saw your body. We went to your funeral."

You touched his cheek, but the feeling of your powers starting at expand had you pulling away. Then you looked over your shoulder at Billy.

How much were you supposed to tell him? Everything?

Billy stepped up to take over.

"You're gonna wanna sit down for this one Frankie."

After both of you took turns telling the story to Frank, you watched his face for any of his tells. Billy hadn't pulled any punches or tried to make himself look better. He openly admitted that he gave the creator's body to Rawlins, but he also admitted that he was going to kill Rawlins. And that you were going to help.

Apparently Frank already knew the rest, including Rawlins' part in the death of the other Castles.

"How you gonna kill him, huh Bill? Y/N and her little light show? Gonna put a bullet in his brain?"

You were offended by the light show comment and sparks started to gather around you. 

"You think I can't kill someone with my little light show? I've blown up buildings with my power. I've burnt people to ash. Don't you dare assume that I'm not dangerous just because you used to know me, Frank Castle."

Frank looked surprised at your outburst. So did Billy. You hadn't told him how much you were forced to do under the creator.

"And what if Bill was wrong? Huh. What if Rawlins is able to make these… meta humans with the creator’s body? It gonna be you against an army."

Billy stepped up beside you, his hand coming to rest on your elbow. It anchored you enough to pull some of your spark back to you. 

"It won't just be her. We're in this together. And you, if you want. Revenge for your family."

Frank leaned back on the couch he had settled on, his eyes flicking between the two of you. You balled your hand into a fist, feeling it glow before you absorbed the electricity flowing through you. 

"I'd love for Rawlins to be six feet under. Only problem is finding him. I doubt he will still be at his warehouse, even if the two of you made some sort of deal. And we won't know what we're walking into."

If Rawlins was able to harness the creator's power, he could have an army. It couldn't be hard to find dead bodies for him to reanimate. And the powers each person received were random; they ranged from useful to completely and utterly useless.

"It's not foolproof Frank," you said as you settled down beside him on the couch, your hands in fists on your thighs, "but what else are we gonna do? Even if he didn't have the creator's body, Rawlins is dangerous. He doesn't deserve to live. And we need to do what we can."

Frank looked between you and Billy once more before he nodded. 

"Never got to go out with you and Billy to unleash some hell. Might as well do it now."

You grinned, a spark traveling up your arm as you did. 

"Sounds like a plan to me," Billy said as he offered his hand to Frank. 

Now it was time to start.

------

One night about two months after you'd been shot and healed, you found yourself listening to a conversation between some of the metas. You weren't the only one that had noticed the creator going off the deep end.

He usually had Gregory by his side, ready to step in at a moment's notice if something went wrong. Gregory's ability to turn into an impenetrable metal made him the perfect protector. 

"He's going to get us all killed," one meta said. It sounded like Louisa.

"Why does he care when he can just make more?" That was Kenny. 

"We're disposable to him." That was Paul.

"Whatever we do, we have to do it as a whole. We have strength in numbers."

And that was Gregory. You didn't even know he was there that night. But that was his voice, you'd know it anywhere. 

Later, once the voices died down, you felt the bed dip behind you. 

"They don't want to take action without you," Gregory said as he put his hand on your hip. 

You reached out and touched his hand, feeling the change come over him before you could shock him.

"If we do this, we'll all be on our own. And we're all supposed to be dead."

Gregory sighed as he settled in behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

"We'll figure it out together."

------

You raised your hands and brought them down quickly, releasing a current of electricity that fried any electronic in the immediate area. The door that required an electronic key code was able to be pulled open easily.

On the other side was an apartment that was spacious and lavishly decorated. You made your way through the foyer and then the living room. You could navigate this place with your eyes closed.

In the office, you bent down next to one of the panels on the wall. You pressed on the panel until it let out a pneumatic hiss, sliding back to reveal a safe. You spun the dial in the familiar combination but nothing happened.

Shit.

You tried it again, trying the combination slower just in case you had missed something, but it still didn't open. 

The combination had been changed.

Electricity crackled over your fists as you stared at the safe. You should have known that this would happen. 

When you stood up, you saw a framed picture on the desk. Smiling at the camera, you barely recognized yourself. And tucked in behind you, grinning ear to ear, was Gregory.

A current ran through your arm at the picture, blowing it off the desk and onto the floor in a burnt heap. It meant he'd know who had broken into his safe house, but you never thought you could do it without him finding out.

You grabbed some of the stationary on the desk and a pen, scratching out a note. Then you stuck it on the front of the safe, tucked in just enough so that it wouldn't fall off.

Then you pulled the panel back into place.

You owe me.

You didn't bother signing it. He'd know who it was.

------

"The pizza is here," you declared as you walked into the penthouse, dropping your shopping bags as well as the large pizza box.

"About time." Billy bent in to kiss you, his arms immediately going around you. "I shouldn't have let you go for two days. I barely slept thinking something could have happened to you."

You kissed him back, holding on to his shirt as you did.

"I told you I had to finish some things. But I also got some new clothes so I can stop stealing your t-shirts."

Billy bunched the fabric of your shirt up so that his hand could touch your skin. 

"I like seeing you in my clothes," he whispered before he leaned in for another kiss.

He was the first to pull away this time. With a smile, he turned to work on getting plates down for your dinner.

"You get everything done?"

You thought about the safe in Gregory's safe house and the note you'd left for him. You thought about the picture you had blown to hell.

"Not yet, but I won't be leaving again. I can finish everything else up from here."

There was a spark of pleasure in your chest that belonged to Billy. You didn't understand it, how you felt him so clearly sometimes, but it was there.

When the two of you sat down to eat, you only took a few bites before you put your pizza down. As hungry as you were, you needed to tell Billy what was going on. 

You needed to tell him about your time away.

"We need to talk," you said as you wiped your hands on a napkin.

"Not tonight," Billy said with a shake of his head. "Tonight you and me are gonna eat pizza, watch shitty television, and then go to bed together like a regular engaged couple. Tomorrow we can go back to the drama."

You laughed and reached across the table to grab his hand, your fingers linking with his. The contact sent a pleasurable tingle down your arm. 

"Sounds good to me."

X

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[lumilasi]

Redesigned his timeskip look a bit as I didn’t like the original hair, and added an image of his new back tattoo. (The old one was kind of a mess and ugly bleh)

The incidents talked about here are both stuff brought up in the fic he first appeared in. (Reanimate) 

Rest of the bio below:

Age: 23

Sexuality: Biromantic demisexual

RYUU’S QUIRK EXPLAINED

Quirk name: Crystallization

BASICS

Ryuu’s Crystallization power allows him to turn the things he touches into ice-like crystalline substance, that evaporates overtime like dry ice. It never melts into liquid. In truth, his quirk isn’t a typical “freezing” quirk, given he doesn’t actually ‘freeze’ anything even if it looks like it. He turns things themselves into this supposed “ice.” Meaning he changes the very molecular structure of the object he’s touching from whatever it is into his “ice” crystals. His ice by default is much denser and stronger than normal ice, although he can keep some of the original properties of whatever he crystallizes if he wishes so, so it can even be made stretchy and flexible.

 A side effect caused by his parental heritage creating his current quirk has caused his body to be denser in a sense, making him much faster and stronger than average fit person or an average pro hero.

QUIRK WEAKNESSES

The power tends to have backlash towards him, that usually manifests in his own skin starting to turn icy and potentially leave him with frostbites; it also can cause his mind to slow down and hibernate in a way, making him sluggish and sleepy, both usually happen due to overuse of his power. 

He’s almost constantly risking going into overdrive because of how much energy his body is capable of storing. In fact, that build up of energy can then burst out without his control and crystallize anything around him without his consent, even his companions if they don’t manage to block it. (In a sense, he has the opposite problem of Kain; Kain has too little energy to use, Ryuu has too much)

Ryuu’s quirk has a few different types of “crystalization” he uses: Object I Vapor/particle I Lethal

OBJECT CRYSTALLIZATION

Basically turns anything he touches into this ice-like substance, speed depends on the size of the object. He can choose if he just wants to turn the thing into pure, rigid and cold crystal, or if he’ll let it keep some of the original properties like the flexibility of canvas or strength of steel, or even the original temperature of the object. Bigger targets take longer to crystallize naturally.

If he doesn’t manage to crystallize the object all the way through, it’ll return back to its original state eventually, completely unharmed. 

VAPOR/PARTICLE CRYSTALLIZATION

Allows him to crystallize any vapors/dust/particles in the air basically and turn them into his preferred ice-spear weapons. He can even create large domes or walls fairly quickly in ideal conditions, such as high humidity, snowfalls, pollution in cities, even just dust blowing in deserts to name a few.

LETHAL CRYSTALLIZATION

Infection: Basically he can kill you fairly quickly and painfully by turning your body into crystals. This happens by “infecting” his target with crystallization by poking them with his icicles or any sharp object he has crystallized, making the effect spread across their body fairly quickly. He’s naturally immune to this aspect of his own quirk, so he can’t turn himself into a crystal like this.

If the spread is stopped on time, the crystal particles eventually evaporate and leave the target unharmed. This is usually done by blocking the blood flow to the injected area, or in severe cases cutting off the limb. Ryuu can also decide consciously when infecting people if he wants it to be lethal or not.

PERSONALITY SUMMARY

Ryuu is blunt, straightforward young man with a temper, who doesn’t always think before he acts/says something. He’s not the smartest pea in the pod, more used to relying on his instincts and gut feeling than brains. 

As a villain, he naturally has a violent streak to his personality, and enjoys torturing people he has personal beef with in very brutal manner. He’s not as unreasonable of a maniac as the media and law-enforcement likes to portray him as however; Ryuu generally doesn’t attack people for no reason. (The reasons can be petty, but usually the level of violence inflicted does correlate to how badly you pissed him off; stealing shit from him isn’t gonna warrant a death sentence, hurting his peers will)

He’s a very loyal companion to anybody who’s earned his respect and trust, but not the type to blindly follow you. He’ll only give his trust to those who allow him to call them out if they do something he’s not comfortable with. He is able to sympathize with people to an extent, especially if they’ve had similar experiences in childhood, such as terrible parenting and bullying/being blamed for things you didn’t do/fear over your power you can’t help having. How far this sympathy extends does depend on if he likes you personally, or not. It’s generally not a “get away with any bullshit” card with him.

He’s not gonna care about your sob story if you go and harm an innocent animal, for example. 

BACKGROUND STORY

Ryuu’s original parents (Toushou) left him in foster care for Katagiri family, as they felt dealing with a child while also attending to the cause of Meta Liberation Army would become too difficult for them. Ryuu grew up pretty much knowing nothing of his parents, as his foster family did not bother telling him anything about them; Katagiris were convinced the parents would not come back anyway since they’d pretty much given the child away because he was “an obstacle” for their cause.

After Ryuu’s quirk manifested, it began to cause a lot of trouble as he couldn’t really control it so well, and the poorer rural area he lived in did not exactly have the equipment to deal with a situation where a child’s power is so volatile it can severely harm someone (turn people into ice statues, not freeze them with a coat of ice, but their flesh, bones, blood, all that itself turned to ice-like substance)

As a result, Ryuu was pretty much shunned by the community, and he was lonely for the most part as people were too afraid to play with him or even talk to him; he ended up getting bullied a lot because he was too scared to lash back at anyone in fear of hurting them.

Then a strange, ginger child suddenly showed up one day after he’d ran into the woods to prevent another burst of ice from escaping his body. (Ryuu had fits often where his power would just lash out and freeze everything around him instantly)

Ryuu made friends with the strange kid, a boy named Kain, who eventually helped him to master his power better. He also learns from his new friend that he’s being held in a secret facility, where his dad uses his quirk to “help” people as he puts it, though it’s pretty clear it’s something shadier.

Kain almost never shows his face to the villagers themselves, usually showing up only when Ryuu is alone somewhere, stating that if he shows himself, his dad will find out and make it impossible for Kain to get out and come see his friend.

As Ryuu grows, he starts slowly to get back at the people who bully him, thanks to Kain’s encouragement to not be afraid of his own power, as that’s what causes him to not be able to control it.

As a teen, Ryuu gets into fights and trouble a lot, often being yelled at or otherwise punished by the Katagiris. He doesn’t really care at this point, having long since stopped finding anything they say important. In turn, the family has started to slightly fear him for a whole new reasons.

Then, Kain suddenly stops appearing for weeks. It gets to the point Ryuu goes to seek out the place his friend said the base was, but finds nothing.

Meanwhile, some of the villagers had started to think that enough was enough, that Ryuu was becoming too dangerous for them to have around, and thus the village’s council had arranged a meeting to discuss what to do with the “disturbed foster-child.” Some of these villagers sneak after the boy secretly at night, deciding to take matters into their own hands before the town-council could actually make a decision.

They attempt to attack and kill him in the forest, but Ryuu lashes back, killing all of them instead. Now, sunken into bitter anger and dozen of chaotic emotions, he heads back to the village and destroys his foster-home, injuring the Katagiris severely, and he also attacks and kills most members of the village council, before running away.

During his run however, Kain reaches out to him, telling him to stay strong and keep going as he’d eventually come back, once he would find a way to get rid of his father. Ryuu decides to cling to this hope that maybe one day, his friend would return and prove he was real.

During his wait, Ryuu runs into a girl called Ezuko, who was somewhat falsely accused of murder (It was accidental) and she was never given a chance to explain her side of the story. Sympathizing with her due to his childhood of people making assumptions instead of hearing him out, he helps her out by bringing her to Giran, a man who generally helped out people like her who were down on their luck, including people who got thrown into the underworld without really meaning to do so. He hangs around her for a while, but eventually leaves figuring his constant presence could be bad for her, given how high his villain rank was becoming.

After reuniting with his childhood friend, and spending years travelling into alternate worlds with Kain in-between stopping by the small home of Kain’s childhood babysitter who’d allowed them to use her small village home as their sanctuary, he eventually ends up reuniting with Ezuko after asking Giran for a small favor, not knowing she still worked for him. This reunion was awkward at first as it takes him a moment to remember who the hell she was. Ultimately, he was glad to see she was okay, and they accept her into their weird secret family, with Ryuu eventually realizing that he perhaps was developing more feelings for her than just friendship.

(Wasabi and his mum Kei of course tease him about it, stating that he had a type, given Ezuko is another smart black-and-red wearing redhead in his life that he was fond of)

Few more extra details;

- Ryuu’s name translates roughly to “honorable/dutiful dragon of the lagoon,” and he has a dragon tattoo on his back. 

- He and Kain share the same blood type

- His original surname Toushou ,translates to Frostbite. He is using his original surname’s English translation as his villain name on purpose as a “fuck you” to his parents. Katagiri was the surname of the orphanage keepers, and him using their surname as a known villain is another “fuck you” towards them.

- Ryuu is pretty immune to seduction tactics because he tend to require a strong emotional connection first before being attracted to anyone. He will legit just stare dully at you if you try to flirt with him, and depending on the situation, might just skewer you with one of his spears, or “freeze” (crystallize technically) you to death because you’re being annoying.

- He’s not attracted to Kain/have a crush on him despite what some may think; their relationship is purely platonic and familial almost. This becomes even clearer once Ezuko drops back into his life, as he develops pretty clear feelings towards her. 

- Ryuu actually still has slight bit of morality left, and Kain tends to let him choose what to do in certain situations, especially if he notices Ryuu is not comfortable with what they’re doing

- he tends to come off as childish a lot due to his tendency to not focus on the here and now so much and basically doing his own thing constantly

- Kain has taught Ryuu bit of English and French, but while Ryuu is pretty fluent in former, he only remembers insults and curse-words from the latter.

- Ryuu has been characterized as an avid animal-lover by the law enforcement due to his tendency to be behind cases that involve punishing animal abusers. While he tends to be nicer to animals by default than humans, he is not as strict about it as this label combined with him being a criminal makes people think; he still eats meat for example. 

- In truth his tendency to aid animals comes from his habit of wanting to aid those who can’t help/protect themselves, thanks to how he didn’t really get much support and help as a child apart from Kain. This means he is likely to help out a kid in need, such as how he’s bonded with a boy named Wasabi Saname, becoming a bit of a big brother figure to him. 

Blank template for this

Bio sheet base (C) yourultraarchive

Oc (C) Me

[prorevenge]

Don't Piss off a Horror Junkie

I used to do a lot of community service back in high school, especially when I was in JROTC, as they had events almost every weekend. They had an annual Halloween festival at a local heritage park that half the unit signed up for. A handful of my friends and I (including a girl I was rather interested in) were assigned to help run a haunted museum tour. We had scripts we were told to follow, but they said we can improvise to our hearts' content. The stuff we were told to follow was pretty kiddie stuff. Gross out scares, spooky noises, an animatronic witch jumpscaring you at the end. Typical family friendly amusement.

Well, we soon grew bored of that stuff and so too did a lot of the older kids. So we decided to ramp things up for those looking for more of a thrill. We proceeded to make heavy changes to parts of the exhibit (with the permission of those in charge) and turned it into quite the house of terror if we so allowed it. We even had various levels of intensity based on the age of the audience. It was going really well. A lot of people even made several returns.

At least, it was going well until we had the misfortune of being graced with the presence of one particular obnoxiously snotty and rude preteen. As I gave them the 1st half of the tour, he constantly remarked on how unscary everything was and how lame we all were. Didn't think much of it. We did our job and were glad when he finally left.

About an hour passes and the same kids come in, but with a possy of his preteen companions. We waited for more people to arrive to fill the group. Again he ran his mouth about how lame this place was. But now he has an audience. Now he's trying to egg us on. He tells me that this place is a joke, how it's not scary and all. I said, "well, you paid for another ticket so that's on you this time." Then he begins to insult us personally, starting with me. Okay, whatever. Then he called the girl I like really harsh names. That's when I got pissed. Before we began, I called everyone in. I whisper to them all, "level 5." Level 5 is the highest intensity, reserved for adults or really intense teens. Normally, putting preteens through that would be out of the question. Level 3 should be their tier, but most of them already heard this kid insult everyone. They were in.

We set everything up for level 5 and we all get to our stage 1 stations on the bottom floor and stairway to the theater room above. It starts off like normal and I let him insult the cheap props and me, where I send him to the magician, as per level 1 protocol. Once they leave there, I direct them to follow me, but get grabbed by my friend dressed in a black cloak and brandishing a large knife. I screamed in terror as he yankd me away from their sight and locked the door. I let out bloodcurdling screams and begged for help as he pretended to stab me to death. I snuck around the back to get in the theater room to hide for stage 2. The now freaked out kids and other disturbed adults make their way through a maze in the center of the room, now more difficult to navigate through without a tour guide. My friends all knocked over items around them and moved parts of the maze, confusing them further. After what seemed like several minutes, they made their way out and sped towards the staircase. As they all stood on those stairs, my friend in the black cloak emerged at the bottom of the staircase with his knife hitting the metal railing menacingly. They all screamed and ran into the theater room converted into a graveyard. For level 5, we also turned on a smoke machine to cover the floor in smoke and lay hidden underneath several props. As they passed by, we jutted our arms outward at them, groaning and screaming at them like all good zombies do. I alone got up as they looked at my now bloodied reanimated corpse and chased them down the "graveyard." Another zombie blocked the exit, making the only escape the barber shop room. That place was genuinely creepy already so we just threw a clown barber slitting open his client's throat on the barber chair. He turned to them and said, "Who's up NEXT???" They bolted right out of there and were headed towards the end of the exhibit. The animatronic witch that's there for every level jumped out and gave its lame cackel. They they looked at it for enough time for girl that I liked to creep up behind them in an amish looking outfit, pigtails, and a powdered white face. She whispered into the twerp's ear, "Yeeeesssss. This SKIN will do NICELY." He freaked out and yelled FUCK as loud as his squeaker voice could permit.

After calming down themselves, his friends laughed at him for screaming the most and asking where all that big talk went. He tried to save face and made fun of the exhibit and us again, but it was already too late. His friends knew he was a pussy and there was nothing he could do about it. We poorly hid our dubious smirks and said to have a great rest of their day. We were all pretty proud of ourselves for sticking up for each other and traumatizing a group of kids in the process.

(source) story by (/u/Not_A_Robot24X9)

[paroxysmics-blog]

❝ you can’t put the ocean in a box. she will shift, change, and retreat at will. ❞

( danielle campbell. 22. she/her. ) we spotted AIDEN QUINN-WRIGHT  in the wilds today, just another gear in the machine of the apocalypse. i heard she chose to go ROGUE for the end of the world. i guess it fits, seeing as she is known to be + adaptable & + resourceful, as well as - distracted & - suspicious. they often have supposed by james arthur stuck in their head while they hunt. i wonder if they’re prepared for what’s coming ? ( it’s trashcan faye!! )

tw: parent death

Also, this is a LONG ass bio omg you’ve been warned. I can send basics if you’d rather not read it all!!

before the end of the world,

The Kurtzman family teetered the line between working class and poverty, and bringing a child into the world in such a low-income home wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had always wanted to start a family of their own. Born to a young couple with more love than money to give, from birth to childhood: Elizabeth had always been too much to handle. Too loud, hyperactive, lacking the filter and resolve expected of young ladies raised in the South. Her parents, try as they might, had never been able to understand their daughter’s oddities, but boy did they adore her. Her early life was perfectly normal, perfectly happy, and their family seemed like one straight out of a movie. This changes when she gets sick. She is five and running in her grandparents backyard when the first symptoms show, chest tight and breathing labored. Asthma, the doctors tell her parents. Fairly easy to keep under control provided she had the right materials, inhalers and breathing treatments to keep it under control. That’s fine, they assure themselves. They’re living paycheck to pay check as is, but their child’s health is priority. The Kurtzman’s manage the added cost and life goes on as usual.

Until problems arise at school, which results in her teacher recommending she be taken to a family doctor for evaluation. It’s then that she’s diagnosed with ADHD. Another bill, something else tacked onto the long list of expenses for a family barely managing. Desperate times call for desperate measures and this pushes her parents into making a reckless choice. They decide to rise above and provide for their daughter no matter the cost, involving themselves with very shady people as a means to make extra money. The occasional job turns into unrealistic expectations and eventually debts catch up to them. In over their heads and fearing for their lives, they’re given an ultimatum. They swear they’ll pay them back gradually, they’re good for it, but that isn’t enough. Loud banging startles a sleeping Elizabeth awake. Her mother ushers her to the linen closet at the head of the stairs, and before she shuts the door she tells her to cover her ears and not come out until help arrives. “You’ll know it’s them when you hear the sirens, baby girl. I love you.“ Are the last words she speaks to her as she pulls the door shut and rushes to join her husband downstairs. They’re there to collect money they don’t have. Muffled shouts are heard and she can tell they’re arguing with someone. She moves to peek out the door and then — BANG. BANG.

She screams. Heavy feet shuffle through the house to her hiding place, but she’s already taken off down the stairs. The bodies of her mother and father lay in pools of blood in the hallway, staining her bare feet and trailing in her wake. She stops for one horrific moment to look at their lifeless forms before running…and running… until her lungs give way and her legs can’t carry her any longer. Alone and scared, she takes up residence on a park bench overnight. The next morning she wakes to a pair of middle-aged women surrounding her. One dials a number and not long after the police show up. She doesn’t move or speak beyond telling them her name, she just observes as a deputy talks about her like she isn’t there. They discuss how her parents had been found shot at point-blank range in their home the night before. “Suspected gang activity.” He says, beckoning the child to speak, to share any information she may know. She knows nothing, so she says nothing. Not that she would’ve been able to anyways. Once she’s safely collected by child protective services they placed her in the system until such a time as they found a family willing to take her on. ”It is for your protection.” They tell her on a loop, as if the more times they say it the truer it will become. The rest of her life will be spent looking over her shoulder, watching and waiting for the people who killed her parents to find her and finish the job should she ever decide to testify. It’s one spent on edge, constantly wondering who she can trust and whether their intentions are pure. Elizabeth Kurtzman legally became Aiden Quinn, a new name for a girl looking to start a brand new life.

Her saving grace comes in the form the cop assigned to her case, a family looking to adopt the girl they’d bonded with so effortlessly. The family works hard to gain her trust and she eventually caves; they’re kind, they treat her like one of their own, and eventually she thinks maybe she is. Two years pass and she’s started calling them mom and dad, their kids her siblings. The move to Milam, Texas in the middle of her Freshman year came as a surprise, one that she ultimately struggled with, but the girl had nothing keeping her in Florida beyond sentimentality. Her parents had been dead for years, she wasn’t even allowed to visit their graves – her childhood home had likely been sold to someone new and painted over to hide the death. She wonders whether the new family knows what happened there, or if the house had even been left standing period. This doesn’t matter, she reminds herself, as she worked to adjust to another new home, a new town with people she wasn’t sure would accept her as she came.

The three and a half years spent at Buckholts School passed in a haze of fist fights, detentions, and never quite fitting in. She had friends, a handful of them, but actively ostracized herself from her peers so as to keep a healthy distance between them. To them, she was an enigma; one day she was quiet, and kind, the next she was pinning a bully twice her size up against a locker for picking on a defenseless target. If they wanted to take out their anger on someone, they could take it out on her. Loud, spazzy, and sarcastic didn’t exactly make for the ideal friend, most people finding her to be a bit too much to handle. She was never needlessly rude to the people around her though, they just seldom bothered seeing beyond what she presented at face value. Her tendency to talk in class and scarcely pay attention to what the teachers were actually saying painted a pretty obvious picture: Aiden was not smart, and she certainly was not making good grades. She made it by with relative ease, however her scattered attention span and general disregard of her intelligence level downed her confidence to approach school with nothing but a shrug. Even still, she did will enough to go to college if she really wanted to. The thing was, she wasn’t sure she did.

For the first time since she was a child, there were no limitations. She was free to be as reckless as she wanted, all she had to do was wait for the day she turned eighteen. As graduation came and went in a blur of its own, the girl watched on as all her friends went off to college or settled into cozy desk jobs handed to them by their parents. But that wasn’t the life she wanted for herself. Packing nothing but a duffle bag full of clothes and other basic necessities, the first year after High School is spent traveling the country in her beatup pickup. It felt almost like a rite of passage to her; there were no rules, no expectations, only her and the open road. Other than coming home for the holidays, she saw no point in returning. Eventually her parents begin wondering when she’s going to come home for good, to the place she belongs, so she does. Her decision to enroll in the Fire Academy not long after that was met with hesitation from all sides, each person more against it than the last; but she had finally found something she was passionate about. The next three years are spent working under their Fire Department and attending courses in chemistry, communications, and computer science at the local community college.

the end of the world,

News of the spreading outbreak falls on deaf ears, Aiden’s usual amount of sarcasm painting the situation in a humorous light. For someone who had consumed her fair share of zombie media, it just seemed to be a practical joke. A well thought out, deliberate joke. Her parents play the news on loop in the living room, her siblings share stories passed on by friends from school. Things grow more grim as days pass, but she continues her day-to-day, refusing to allow herself to get swept up into the madness like everyone else. Her first encounter with the undead comes that night at work. It’s the standard fare they’re told, a house fire on third. Suited up and on the way, a new alert comes in on her phone: VIRUS SPREADING. TAKE NECESSARY PRECAUTIONS. She never checks it. The woman whose house is on fire is inside, a bite in her neck, the rising flames lapping at her ankles as she reanimates before their eyes. At first they assume she’d passed out from a combination of stress and the fumes, but reality sets in as their questions are answered with groans and a nearly successful attempt at taking a bite out of her colleagues shoulder. The material on their suits is thick enough to keep them from easily being infected, but she doesn’t think twice as she buries the brunt of her axe in the woman’s skull.

It is her refusal to acknowledge that the virus was real that hurt the people she loved the most, the first wave of undead leaving only her, her mother, and two of her siblings in the wake of a disintegrating world. A family of ten turns to a family of four. Aiden’s mother is a proud woman who stops for no one.  Before long, word spreads that groups were forming within their general area, survivors coming together to build a better tomorrow — or at the very least to give themselves a better shot at making it that long. Aiden is the first to suggest they go. She doesn’t want to take the chance that they run out of resources, get trapped within the confines of their own house, etc. but her mother is hesitant. It takes time, weeks even, to convince her, and when she finally agrees they end up setting their sights on the Ailton Tower. While not the safest place to take up residence, her siblings would always be entertained and have a better shot at having a somewhat normal childhood, whatever that may be. They make it about halfway when they’re ambushed by a pair of walkers that’d been tailing them through through the forest. Axe in hand and a determination to protect what’s left of her family, the woman steps up, but falls short. Her mother sacrifices herself for her children and she is left with yet another gaping hole in her heart.

Another loss, another family member taken from her. Believing her mother’s initial refusal to join a group to be a sign, Aiden gathers the kids and they return home without a second glance. There’s no grieving, not when you have two people to look after. Bit by bit she reassembles herself though this responsibility, and with that her will to live. Pushing through the pain, she pulls on the denim jacket her father always used to wear and sets to work fortifying their home. Already fenced and two stories, it makes for a decent place to stay. The only way in and out is over, which comes in handy when faced with people looking to loot their already low supplies. The defense on the property is holding up well enough, but only just, and all it would take was a group big enough coming through to crash through their main source of protection. From that, the majority of her days are spent picking the neighborhood clean, going house by house to take whatever she’s able to find. Most of their former occupants are gone, whether by choice to leave or because the dead got them — she suspects the ones that were foolish enough to leave weren’t much better off.

Beyond the typical issues of someone fighting for survival in the midst of the apocalypse, finding the medication she needs has become increasingly difficult. Adderall isn’t a necessity, no, but it does keep her focused. Lacking the resolve to keep her mind and body from being jittery without it, the woman worries for the day she’s no longer able to get her hands on it. Not to mention that being so active means burning through inhalers, which have become as valuable to her as gold in their new world. If she can’t take care of herself, there’s no hope for her siblings. Most pharmacy’s have been picked dry and very little remains from her own visits Because of this, she’s a frequent barterer among the Toledo Bend residents, mostly paying visits to the saints and camp Serotonin, hoping she’ll be able to get her hands on the things she needs. If this means going without food some days so that her siblings are well provided for, that’s a chance she’s willing to take. At the end of the day it’s her and them against the world, no matter the consequences.

misc,

Her bio was honestly too long, so I’m not gonna put too much in here as of right now, but she’s just!!!! my little trash baby and definitely my favorite character I’ve played to date.

MBTI: ENTP(-T)

MORAL ALIGNMENT: neutral

SIN: wrath

CHARACTER INSPO: Nick Miller, Chandler Bing, Rosita Espinosa, April Ludgate, 

CHARACTER TROPES: Pint-sized powerhouse, brilliant, but lazy, defrosting ice queen, hidden heart of gold, sugar-and-ice personality, they’re just a handful lmao.

connections,

Uh, LITERALLY ANYTHING, but like here’s a few potential ideas!!

Friends/unlikely friends

Enemies/ex-friends/rivals

Ex(es)

Fwb or a fling

Good influence, lord knows the girl REALLY needs one

Alternately, a bad influence, someone who brings out the worst parts of her

Someone she just generally cares about, even if she won’t readily admit it to anyone but them 

And honestly, i’d really love someone she trusts wholeheartedly, which in turn extends to her sharing the whereabouts or her twin brothers in the event that something happens to her ( this is a big, big one !!! )

Just anything, pls!!

[hyper-fic-sation]

Jack-O-Lanterns and Candy Corn

Here’s another re-upload of one of my older works but I really hope y’all enjoy it because I based it on one of my favorite older movies, Re-Animator! Please leave likes and comments down below!

So much had changed since his childhood, everything from style to speech to entertainment to medicine, hell, even the cost of money changed!

But each of these changes, with time, had become the new normal for Bucky Barnes. Eventually a twenty dollar book didn’t give him heart palpitations and words like “Hootch” and “Horn” faded from his vocabulary.

The one change that had perhaps shellshocked him the most though came in the month of October with the arrival of Halloween.

As a child, Halloween had been the best night of Bucky Barnes’ life. His mother and Steve’s would have worked weeks on their costumes, transforming them from boys to beasts, and would let them roam throughout the city streets, knocking on neighbor’s door for candy, Bucky promising Sarah that he would watch out for Steve, and then promising his mom the same for Rebecca. They would return home late at night and sneak into their rooms, swapping candy for candy, talking about particularly scary house decorations, and discussing their plans for next year. It was a night where magic became real and where everything truly scary and frightening about the world slipped away, covered up by toilet paper cobwebs and sheets with holes cut out for eyes. On that night, he didn’t have to worry about whether his best buddy would make it to see sixteen, or whether they were gonna have to sacrifice dinner so the twins could have diapers. It was a time where he was just free to be a kid and nothing else. It was no wonder why it was his favorite time of the year.

But these days? Halloween was different. Costumes were more about being sexy than scary, and here in the city, few kids ever went trick or treating alone. The occasional scary decorations that had once seemed so impressive were now pitiful when compared to the new plastic skeletons and automated hand grabbing candy bowls. It was almost entirely unrecognizable as the day of magic that it had once been, instead it became just another foreign experience upon a pile of other ones.

He still tried to make the best of it, however, he really did, but it just wasn’t the same anymore. After everything that happened to him, everything he’d done, he couldn’t find it in his heart to get excited about a night of playing monsters when, in his mind, he already was one.Add to that the fact that almost all the Avengers seemed to think Halloween was just another day and it was even more difficult to get excited. In fact, he could only think of two teammates of his who were genuinely excited for the day.

The first was Tony, who was apparently planning a crazy costume party the night of that all the Avengers were invited to attend.

The second was (Y/N), who just seemed excited for the day as a whole. The whole month was seemingly leading up to this day for her. She practically skipped around the house, leaving lit pumpkin spice candles in her wake and the sound of some song about skeletons ringing in your ears.

She had come to the compound around the same time as Bucky had, her powers of flight and telekinesis landing her onto the Avenger’s radar during her final year of college where she was trying to graduate in peace with a Bachelor's in Journalism and Communications. Right away she had swooped in with her sarcastic personality and wit and secured her place inside every one of the Avenger’s hearts, even his which he had thought of as nothing more than a block of ice in his chest until then.

His feelings for you had been stirring inside him for a long time, he had tried to ignore them at first, tried to repress them and keep them hidden from view, but, with one smile from you it was as if all his hard work were for nothing. His heart would soar and his own lips would spread into a grin, and he would feel a little bit of that ice begin to thaw before he would remind himself that you would never, ever give him the time of day, maybe once, but not anymore, not after all he’d done.

“Hey, Bucky,” your voice called out, snapping him out of his thoughts and returning him to the real world where he was currently sitting in the Avengers’ tower common room, “do you wanna watch a movie?.

He turned up to look at you and instantly he was enthralled, it took him a few moments before your question fully registered, “what kind of movie?” he asked even though it didn’t really matter, you could have wanted to go jumping off cliffs and he would follow you.

You smirked, “what kind do you think, Buck? Do you even know what time of year it is?”

He laughed a little at your dramatics, “alright, what movie is it then?” he asked. A smile lit up your face, so wide he thought your cheeks might burst from the strain, “it’s called The Re-Animator,” you said, “it’s a cheesy film from the eighties, I’ve seen it like a thousand times.”

“Do you really wanna watch it again then?” Bucky asked.

You nodded, “yes, yes I do,” you said, “it’s one of my favorites so will you please watch it with me? Please, please, please, please!”

Bucky laughed and nodded, “alright doll, I’ll watch it.”

Almost instantly after his reply she launched herself into his arms and kissed his cheek, “and this is why you’re my favorite Avenger!” you squealed and Bucky blushed at the sudden display of affection, not that you seemed to notice though, pulling away and rushing back into your room only to return a few moments later in a pair of pajamas carrying the DVD Case proudly in your arms.

“What’s this movie even about?” Bucky asked as you put the disk into the player and worked your magic on the television to make the movie play.

You rolled your eyes, “will you please just let the movie happen?” you said, “I wanna see it through a first-timer’s eyes.”

And so that ended most of the conversation for the duration of the movie. The story was about a doctor named Herbert who used a special green sludge to bring people back from the dead, and it was safe to say that the film was different from anything Bucky had ever seen before. Topless girls filled screens, fake blood and guts spewed from corpses, morbidly funny jokes had him laughing one minute and gasping in shock the next. It all came to a head however in the film’s climax where the doctor was strangled by a corpse’s small intestine and the screen cut to black leaving Bucky in suspense.

“What, that’s it?” he cried and you laughed.

“What happened to Herbert? Did the serum work on Meg? What is Dan gonna do about all the dead people just roaming around?” he cried out before looking at you desperately, “please tell me there’s more!”

You giggled, “there’s a sequel,” you sighed, “but it’s not very good…”

“I don’t care,” Bucky responded, “I need more!”

So there the two of you sat for the rest of the afternoon and night, glued to the television watching a movie that in all honesty kind of sucked after the first twenty minutes, but neither of you truly caring, just too wrapped up in the characters to mind the terrible plotlines and inconsistent character development. 

When the movie finally came to an end and the credits began to roll, you launched into an excited discussion on Herbert West’s motivations and Dan’s inability to touch a patient without immediately killing them. It was some of the most fun Bucky had had in awhile, and, for a second, it was almost like he was a kid again ready for Halloween to arrive.

“Can I tell you a secret, Buck?” you asked leaning into him, so close he could practically smell your strawberry shampoo.

He nodded, “of course,” he said.

“No,” you said, “I mean, it’s like top secret, like, some CIA shit, can I still trust you?”

He smirked, “what, are you gonna tell me you’ve been reanimating people on the side?”

You laughed, “no, the only thing I bring to life is the spirit of Halloween in this place,” you said, “so, can I trust you or not?”

Bucky nodded, “lay it on me doll,” he said and he could swear he saw a faint blush creep into your cheeks.

“Alright then,” you said, glancing away for a moment before returning to meet his eyes, “it’s about my costume for Tony’s Halloween party.”

The got Bucky’s attention. You were notoriously secretive about your costume for the party, deflecting any questions aimed at you about it, hiding it away behind the locked door of your bedroom, even refusing to ask for help when you came out of your room bleeding from sticking yourself with sewing needles one too many times. The fact that you were willing to trust him with your secret costume was something of an honor.

“What is it?” Bucky asked?

You smiled, “not so fast,” you said, “why don’t you tell me what you’re going to be.”

Bucky’s excitement faltered as he contemplated lying to you and saying something basic, he’d gone to the party store with Sam and Steve who’d tried to rope him into being the third stooge with them, but he’d refused, it just hadn’t felt right, none of the costumes they’d suggested had, in the end, he’d just decided not to go, he just wasn’t up for it, but he knew telling you that would be the most disappointing thing ever.

So he just shrugged, “I don’t have one yet,” he said, “I’m still weighing my options.”

Your smile grew wider, “would you like to do a partner costume with me?” The proposition was shocking to say the least, taking him by surprise. Halloween was two weeks away and you’d been working on your costume for months, did you really expect him to just have something ready?

“What is it?” he asked.

Then you leaned closer, your lips touching the lobe of his ear and sending shivers down your spine, and you told him, and his smile only grew. When you pulled away he nodded excitedly.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

“What’s up with Frosty and the Little Girl?” Sam asked confused though Steve could barely hear him over the music blasting throughout the party room, “they’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, and now their both late, what’s up with that?”

Steve shrugged, “I didn’t think Bucky was coming, but (Y/N) surprises me, would’ve thought she’d be the first one here,” he practically shouted to be heard. “I know! That girl is crazy about Halloween, and I wanna see this costume she’s been obsessing over,” Sam replied.

Steve was just about to say something else when the doors to the party room opened and in stepped you with Bucky in tow. You were clad in a disheveled looking, blood covered dress shirt and suit with your hair pinned back to make it look shorter and quoiffed. A skinny tie was around your neck and you held a vial of what looked like green glow stick fluid in your hand while a pair of huge glasses took up most of your face.

Bucky stood behind you, his outfit was much simpler with a blood-soaked white tank top and a pair of bloody blue jeans, his hair had been styled shorter too, and in his hand he carried a blood-stained axe.

Steve had absolutely no idea what you two were supposed to be, but you both someone worked it so well that he didn’t care. You two had the biggest smiles on your faces both relishing in their parts.

He approached you and smiled back. 

“What the hell are you two supposed to be?” he asked.

“You remember that movie I tried to get you to watch a few weeks back?” Bucky asked.

Steve rolled his eyes, “you mean the really crappy one from the eighties?”

You gasped with mock outrage, “how dare you! It’s a tour de force!”

“We’re the main characters from it, Herbert West and Dan Cane,” Bucky explained further.

Sam laughed, “you two are such dorks,” he said.

You just beamed and entwined your arm with Bucky, “yes,” you said, “yes we are, and we’re gonna go kill it on the dance floor now, so if you’ll excuse us,” you pulled Bucky towards the crowd of dancing people and both of you were quickly swallowed up by the crowd.

And that night, dancing with you, laughing until his sides hurt, taking terrible pumpkin flavored shots, and wearing one of the best costumes in the world, Bucky felt every real struggle and fear melt away from him, he felt his heart begin to thaw and he remembered just what he loved so much about Halloween. It truly was a night of magic.

[ks-caster]

One Last

Fandom: One Piece

Characters: Tashigi, Zoro, Strawhats

Notes: This story centers on the idea that Tashigi looks like Kuina because she’s basically inhabiting her body - the corpse was reanimated through science. Discovering that she’s basically a zombie, Tashigi attempts to kill herself, only to fail repeatedly due to her excellent design. She is adopted/kidnapped by the strawhats and attempts to deal with her ensuing depression and identity crisis.

First chapter and outline are under the cut.

Roranoa Zoro was having a very bad day. He had gotten lost and had to ask for directions three times in the so far, as he wandered around on the rather uninteresting spring island, where they had docked to resupply. He had been searching for most of the morning, and still hadn’t been successful at locating a good bar that sold drinks for less than the ridiculous prices being charged everywhere he looked. He had run into Luffy twice, who was also short on cash, and looking just as unsuccessfully for cheap food. He had failed to convince Nami that three-hundred percent interest was unfair. He had been forced to knock out a troop of Navy goons and a police-man. He didn’t know what he wanted more: a drink or a nap.

Roranoa Zoro was having a very bad day, and in the course of half a second as he caught sight of a particular face, it got a whole lot worse.

“Hello Zoro,” Tashigi greeted him civilly, if perhaps with a degree of frostiness that he assumed meant she wished she has her sword with her. Her Shigure was nowhere in sight, and she was dressed in a pink and gold sundress that looked like it had been sewn out of an enormous handkerchief. It had one strap over her right shoulder, and came down to either just above or just below her knees, depending on which part of the uneven hemline was being measured.

She was wearing high-heeled strappy sandals much like Nami’s and she looked a lot prettier than he remembered. He blinked hard.

“Hello, Navy girl,” he responded a bit more waspishly than he had intended. She looked at him disconcertingly over the tops of her glasses.

“Are you busy?” she inquired unexpectedly. He shook his head, a bit thrown. She jerked her thumb toward a bar and grill behind her. 

“Come and have a drink with me then,” she invited, sounding rather offhand.

“Uh,” he started, unsure what to make of her weird change in character.

“My treat,” she offered, slightly altering the angle of her head and the shape of her eyes until her expression conveyed that she really did want him to have a drink with her.

“Alright then,” he responded guardedly, just as Nami and Robin strode up, arms full of shopping bags from clothing stores.

“Oh hey Zoro!” exclaimed Nami, “come over here and help us carry these!”

“Not now!” he shouted in irritation. 

“Oh, are you busy?” Nami all but squealed, noticing Tashigi for the first time, but apparently not recognizing her.

“We were just going for a drink!” Tashigi called to her. “Come join us, if you like. I’m buying.”

Nami did like; free drinks were always categorized under ‘like,’ and Robin brought up the rear as the four of them filed into the restaurant.

To general surprise, the rest of the crew was already seated at a large corner table, Luffy scarfing down snacks like there was no tomorrow, and Sangi flirting with a curly-haired barmaid. Tashigi strode over to them and plopped down in an empty chair, and Zoro, Nami and Robin took their seats as well.

“Hey,” Tashigi called to a man who appeared to be in charge. She handed him a stack of bills and told him to take anything they all ate or drank from that money until it ran out, and then cut them off. 

“Whoa, really?” exclaimed Luffy.

“When it’s gone, it’s gone though,” she warned him.

“Hey, thanks lady!” he said with a grin, and after that, there was a scramble of everyone placing orders so they’d get what they wanted before Luffy ate his weight in Tashigi’s gift money. Zoro wasn’t shy about ordering a whole keg; after all, regardless of her motives, he planned on having his much-wanted drink now that he had the opportunity.

 Tashigi didn’t seem to mind either, because when they had emptied the keg, she ordered another, and then a third. She, Zoro, Nami and Sangi all got rather tipsy, and Luffy Chopper and Usopp, though drinking soda, were acting equally silly, with chopsticks up Chopper’s nose as per usual, and Sangi trying to get Robin to drink more. Robin, oddly considering she was drinking the same beverage as Tashigi, Zoro, Nami and Sangi, did not seem any different than usual.

“So what’s with the free booze?” Zoro asked, much more warmly now that the party atmosphere had gotten into his blood with the alcohol. 

“I didn’t feel like drinkin’ alone,” the naval officer slurred as though it were the most obvious thing in the world, raising her mug a bit shakily to toast.

“And you’re not arresting us because…?” Robin prompted, sipping daintily at her drink.

“I’m on vacation,” Tashigi replied, waving her hand around nonchalantly, “so I don’t have to, and I couldn’t if I wanted to andIdon’twanttosothere! Cheers to the yummy food!”

“Here, here!” bellowed Luffy, Usopp and Sangi, and everything continued as before, with Nami absently counting up what their refreshments cost and wondering just how much Tashigi had forked over if they hadn’t been cut off yet. The only noticeable difference was that Robin suddenly seemed as drunk as any of them, and thus the one party-pooper was now part of the fun. 

Time flew by and the sun climbed to its zenith. Nobody asked what their balance was, though really, the money had to run out some time, didn’t it?

Did it?

Luffy was in the middle of stuffing his face when the bartender finally came over looking slightly uncomfortable. He hadn’t even finished speaking when Tashigi whipped out her wallet.

“Another round!” she bellowed, thoroughly soused, and rather shakily threw it, only to have it caught by Zoro.

“Hold up a minute,” he cautioned, his voice not entirely steady either, but apparently more able to hold his liquor than his companion. “Don’t spend every cent!”

“Why not?” she wined, face flushed and mouth firmly pouting. Her glasses were a little askew, and to Zoro’s surprise, he saw that a pin was lose in her hair, letting a long black lock fall down almost to her elbow.

“You have long hair?” he asked, distracted.

“Yup,” she replied, completely forgetting the matter of the money. “A bit bending of the ol’ regulations and all that, but…” her eyes drifted to Luffy and Chopper, who were dancing on the tabletop. “I didn’t see them drink at all,” she mused.

“They don’t need to,” Zoro groused. “Everyone on this crew can act drunk on a moment’s notice without drinking anything stronger than lemonade. Well, except Robin.” The two of them stared as Robin and Nami were trying to make a house of cards out of the menus, laughing madly and building more out of Robin’s hands than anything else.

“Huh,” Tashigi grunted. “Well, I bet no one’s ever bored, at least.” Abruptly she stood, handed the bartender a fat tip.

“Thanks for the grub and booze,” she said amiably, and turned to the pirate crew, who mostly acknowledged her, if perhaps distractedly. After deliberating for a time and starting and stopping a few times to speak, she finally came out with, “Enjoy the rest of the eats,” and swept quickly from the building.

Outline

Chapter 1) Tashigi’s last drink

Chapter 2) Attempted suicide

Tashigi attempts to shoot herself in the head

She wakes up the next morning and thinks she missed; she even finds the hole in her ceiling.

She goes to a seedy potion shop and buys poison.

She drinks the poison and is puking up her guts, but then her body metabolizes it and she’s fine.

Frenzied, she slits her wrists and runs, bleeding, off the edge of a cliff.

Chapter 3) Rescue

Zoro finds her while he’s lost trying to get to the ship. It’s raining so he has Kuina’s funeral on the brain, and he’s really freaked when he finds her in a pool of her own blood. He convinces himself that the only reason he’s so desperate is because of Kuina.

He (with Sangi giving him directions) takes her back to the ship where Chopper looks her over and sees that her wounds are healed. She has a fever though.

She wakes up and doesn’t remember anything besides “I want to die.”

Chapter 4) Waking Up

She bonds with the crew little by little; they all grow attached to amnesia girl.

She can’t get used to being called Tashigi, since it’s not familiar to her. Zoro somehow says “Kuina,” and she likes it a lot, so she decides to name herself that. She does ask his permission though.

A man claiming to be her father comes along and asks her to go home with him. (He is really the creepy doctor who created her.)

Chapter 5) Past

She says she doesn’t want to hurt him by refusing to come with him, but she doesn’t even know him, so she asks if he wants to do dinner or something.

They go out to dinner and Sangi follows them and makes a row in the kitchen.

The doctor eventually gets fed up with her continually suggesting that she stay with the pirates and loses his temper, first shouting at her, then proclaiming her status as his finest creation, his last symphony, his magnum opus…

Sangi senses a damsel in distress from several rooms away and runs to the rescue, followed by Luffy who came to eat and Nami who came to make sure the boys didn’t cause trouble and Chopper and Zoro who came to look after Tashigi and everyone else who just came. 

The pirates run the evil doctor off, but Tashigi faints.

She remembers everything.

Chapter 6) Truth

They bring her back to the ship and nobody knows she has her memories back.

She says goodbye to Zoro.

She leaves a note for everyone else.

They search for her but the trail goes cold.

Chapter 7) 

Eventually they find her by chance waiting tables in a restaurant, and Zoro chases her.

She tells him everything.

He says his bit about it’s her body now and her life to live and everything.

They come back to the others and Tashigi is welcomed back into the crew.