#the middle one is the design ill be using if i need to draw her standalone

[wolfythewitch]

Aphrodite

[decafbat]

i really like how much depth your art has, do you think you could show how you break down bodies when sketching if that makes sense? it’s something i struggle with a lot in my art! ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

ok apologies in advance, this is probably going to be a really long and tangential rant about art that may or may not actually help you in learning how to construct bodies. im just gonna put it under a cut to save everyone from seeing this huge text wall.

i dont think its gonna be possible for you to replicate my methods here, because theyre mostly just really specific shortcuts for finding certain proportions and reference points for anatomy, which i'm fairly versed in, but not as much as i'd like to be. the shortcuts you'll need will be different from mine. im glad you think my art has depth, that is something i am trying to seek very intentionally right now, and i dont think im even close to the depth of form i am actually aiming for. so like. this makes making a tutorial kind of inherently hard. nevertheless, i threw this quick sketch together after like 3 failed attempts. (i was doing those attempts digitally, ended up giving up on that and going back to traditional because its what im most comfortable with rn)

i didnt get all the steps i took to get here because scanning that much would be cumbersome but ill try to explain how i got here. i start with the head almost every time.

i use a lot of symbolic/graphic shapes when drawing heads and dont stick to using forms very often besides the circle at the center of the head, which i use as the base to form these graphic shapes around. think of it like "wrapping" the ball in various textures and masses. the eyes are usually "textured" onto the head, notice how the her left eye looks narrower then her right. of course i try to make sure her bangs sit along the curve of the sphere and her ears look like they sit on opposite sides of the head. its easy to forget that part, making the head look unsymmetrical. the particular masses of leica's head would be her snout, which is just a curve extended slightly outside the diameter of the ball, and her hair, which are two strange organic shapes that are quite hard to draw, two hair sprig anime antennae things (forgive me, i forgot the word for them,) and the back of the head, which i usually need to extend slightly. its a little too extended here, needs more on the top, i fix this in the final pass. this was a quick sketch, so i didnt focus too hard on the forms of the head beyond the most essential ones for her design, but i sometimes highlight the form of cheeks with curved hatching, or try to make the eyes appear more sunken-in as they are on human faces. i dont know how to proportion the neck and torso correctly until i draw the head, so i always do it first. next, i did the torso.

so heres why i said that you probably wont be able to replicate this approach. you do kind of just have to practice anatomy, i cant just make it make sense because im not very good at explaining this stuff, but ill try to go through what i did here. so, i generally use simplified bone shapes to find proportions and reference points, as well as more complicated shapes like those of elbows and knees. i try to study fairly often because im not satisfied with here im at with this stuff yet. of course, i dont think i'll ever be. so i'll usually start with the ribcage, add a shoulderblade out the back to find the shoulder, the armbones come out of that, the bone in the upper arm connects to the ulna with a sort of three-pronged attachment, one big knurl in the middle, which forms the thrust of the elbow, two little ones on the side. i think those are part of the ulna but i dont remember. see, you dont really have to know what exactly they do as long as you know what they look like. the ulna does some goofy rotation shit i dont understand, connects to the wrist, and then we have a hand, which, i mean, im not good enough at hands to even be telling you how to do it, but i just have a big squarish mass and some little hotdog fingers coming out of that. you can see on her left hand that ill have a big circle forming the the area on the hand where the thumb attaches... theres more depth to the hands, i think you can easily find better tutorials then i could offer. anyway, under the ribcage theres the pelvis, represented with a box. ill get into that when i talk about the legs. i wanna briefly talk about the way i add the flesh and fat to the bones.

so, i really can't give a comprehensive crash course on anatomy, but i can point you towards the morpho series, which is where i get most of this stuff from. you can get very far with the volumes Simplified Forms, Fat and Skin, and Skeleton and Bone Reference Points. moving on, i just kind of have a feel for where the masses attach by now. the important thing to remember when drawing fat characters like this is that the fat should "hang" from the bones and flesh, drooping down slightly. leicas fat hangs substantially, so she's not very wide despite her weight. this is important to her character design i feel. i almost always draw characters naked first when doing serious drawings because it will come in handy knowing where the forms of the body are when i add the clothing. by focusing on the way her body looks naked, i can modify the impression of those forms when adding clothes, and when i add them later on in this drawing, leica will take on the distinctive boxy look i try to draw her with.

if you look at the arm, youll see that the place the line of bone sits is very high compared to the whole mass of the arm, the flesh and fat of the arm "hang" from the bone, and then the upper arm squishes against the bent forearm too. even if the anatomy in the arm is indistinct, it can still look convincing when the forms act realistically against one another. the elbow has much less fat connected to it, so its more bony then the rest. this isnt actually consistent on all people so like, think about that kind of thing when designing characters, like i was talking about before, fat can sit in infinite different ways. maybe if i was doing a more objective anatomy lesson i'd draw cath, because i do have a sort of vague understanding of muscle placement that doesnt come through here, but probably would if i was drawing a scrawnier character. let me know if you want that.

a word on the breasts too: they hang a bit lower then you'd expect, keep that in mind. the attachment point is also angled, as the line shows. the line starts roughly in the middle of the torso and ends around the armpit, but the form of the breast can go underneath the armpit or even connect around the fold of fat in the back. many things to think about. i love boob shapes. ok lets finally get on with it and talk about the legs.

so, the really specific shape of the pelvis doesnt matter that much unless youre drawing a really thin character, so its just a box here. out from the sides of the pelvis, extending out more then you'd expect, is the femur, which ends in a similar joint to the arm. this shape helps me figure out the form of the knee. two masses on each side with a bunch of complex and weirdly shaped bones forming the kneecap, which i have omitted because i dont yet know shit enough to include them. i am learning though. so, obviously the feet are just scribbles here because im just gonna put her feet in socks anyway. you really dont have to do more then you have to. a few tips i can offer here, the butt should hang a bit too when drawing fat characters, i think the butt is supposed to start just below the pelvis if i remember, but take that with a grain of salt. i also didnt really do that here but its hard to tell because she's facing mostly forward. again, i dont think i can really communicate what's going on here. morpho has a lot of great drawings explaining the shapes and muscles of the legs, all things i might focus on more when drawing a scrawnier character. for this case, i regrettably don't go too hard on the legs. also i should note that legs would usually be much longer, leica is really short so ive exaggerated the proportions to communicate that. i may change my mind on that front in the future and give her more grounded proportions. the important thing to remember with legs is just getting a nice hierarchy of forms going. bigger thigh going into smaller calf going into smaller foot. it mostly comes automatically now.

i added the clothing, shaped up her head a bit, added a bit of fur. i put her in her classic outfit, just a sweater and jeans. i enjoy the big thick folds that come out of these clothes, and big areas of white space too. its nice. i try my best to form all the folds around the forms of the body i drew earlier. thats one case where i really really have no idea what im doing and could never explain it in words. its just some fun intuitive play with loops and lines. this is at around the stage for a sketch where i'd do inks, or if it was going to be a finished pencil drawing i'd erase out parts piece by piece and replace them with nicer and more defined lines and tones.

i guess that's all i can offer , i hope that halped.

[emerald9d]

Ricka

No ask prompted this, this time. I just need to talk about her because she's, like, the other main OC of mine, right up there with Shelly. I just... don't draw her as much as I should.

The art here is in no particular order and the last two are actually Allie, a "version" of her I used for a tabletop campaign where the setting was different enough (Princess: The Hopeful, for those who are wondering) that she needed a new background and name. She basically looks and acts the same though. Also ignore that other guy for now lol.

This is going to be more rambly than when I described Shelly.

So yeah. Her full name is Ricka Rene Fuyu. She lives on Earth... or, well, "Earth." It's called that, and it even resembles our current-day world. But, there's a bunch of people with pointed ears, and most everyone can learn telekinesis. (though it's difficult and not THAT useful to most people, sorta like martial arts. guess what there's a lot of martial artists in my stories)

Also the ladmasses are (roughly) the same but everything else is different! Ricka lives in "The Triad," a collection of three closely located cities situated around the location of current-day Moscow. Ricka lives in Trifol, the "poorest" of the three cities. The other two are Slayton, a more froufrou college town, and Elaros, the capital of the country.

The tech is very "30 minutes into the future." There's fancy prosthetics and crazy computers and power armor, but most people can't afford them, and see them infrequently. I hesitate to call it cyberpunk, but its in that ballpark for sure. (Half of Ricka's design is "wannabe Matrix character") The most noteworthy development is "biotech drones," however, mindless attack-and-defense robo-creatures have started filling out military and police forces worldwide, courtesy of a subsidiary of Unity, a massive corporate conglomerate with its sites on controlling basically every major industry in the world. The only thing they haven't broken into fully, however, is the energy industry...

Anyway, Ricka couldn't be more different than Shelly, at least outwardly. She's quiet and reserved, and slow to react emotionally. (dissociative, really) But she's quite technically intelligent, and has a rich inner world, which she will show off when she lets herself relax and open up. This girl has opinions. And memes. And blorbos. She's basically the equivalent of a seasoned lefty Tumblr user. She's kind of my answer to the Rei Ayanami type of character, though her influences are myriad. Many years ago she started off by being a ripoff of Lucca from Chrono trigger. How far she's come.

Llife for Ricka started off promising enough. But, when both her parents died when she was 8, (one from a workplace accident, the other from cancer) only her grandfather and older brother were left to take care of her. (or take care of the older brother, for that matter)

For the next several years the family struggled with poverty, and mental illness. Ricka in particular barely hung on through the course of middle school, before succumbing to a massive breakdown at the beginning of highschool. Though, if there's a silver lining, is that she grew close to a former friend of her parents, who she sees as an uncle of sorts. Some particular interests of his, like boxing and motorcycles, rubbed off on her. (I know she's doing karate stuff in that one pic, but I changed my mind on that later)

After her breakdown, even her somewhat conservative grandfather had to admit her struggles needed to be taken seriously. Thankfully, around that time the family's finances improved somewhat. Since then, she's had a therapist and homeschooling, while pursuing her various technical interests as best she can.

The story begins with her starting university at 19. A rather big step for her considering her history of social anxiety, she's confident she can handle it. And she does! Especially with the help of a friend of hers from online, who also happens to be attending the same university as a transfer student.

However, despite making some irl friends, the future still presents a struggle. Corporate interests rule higher education to the point that they outright dictate what majors are available to matriculate into. It's hard to be an engineer when the powers that be decide that there's currently enough engineers.

Being around attentive friends who aren't used to her quirks reveals just how odd some of those quirks are. Which then leads to a discovery both illuminating and somewhat upsetting. See, I said telekinetic powers exist, but not telepathic. So mind-to-physical influence, but no mind-to-mind interaction.

Well, it turns out Ricka is unnaturally good at knowing what people are feeling, and where they are, and what they're about to do. To the point that it becomes clear she's got some special, unheard of mental abilities. And that, furthermore, she's had these powers, unknowingly, for most of her life. It becomes clear that it was actually a major source of her social anxiety, as the feelings of those around her overwhelmed her to a supernatural degree. However, Ricka's conditions are still quite real. Knowing the reason (or, at least, a reason) for her issues does not make them go away overnight.

While grappling with that, some strange things start happening to people around campus, which leads her and her newfound friends into unwittingly becoming a group of amateur sleuths. Ricka's empathic powers, naturally, become very useful for this task, making her into the functional core of the group. This then leads them into stumbling across things that they weren't supposed to know, and... well, the plot had to start at some point. What happens from there is a conspiracy thriller of unreasonable proportions.

Because, you see, those empathic powers didn't come from nowhere. And where they did come from...

...

One more thing. A somewhat more recent development is that she lost her left forearm when she was young. Or, hell, maybe she was born without it. Either way, she wears a prosthetic a lot. Normally... well, I'll let Ricka herself explain, in a block of narration I wrote randomly a little while ago:

My prosthetic could be covered by insurance. Well, kind of. The school health insurance will get you a part, but only within a certain price range. And, really, that’s not unreasonable. A fully articulated human-like hand is a bit much for the everyday, especially for your typical student. I’m not your typical student. And I don’t like being told what to do by an insurance company. No, the only thing that’s covering this hand is a leather glove.

You can see that leather glove in the pic where she's princess carrying that guy. And the prosthetic itself, uh, coming apart in that one doodle.

She also wears a simpler hook/pincer sort of prosthetic half the time. But she got that more advanced one at a young age, and has basically been learning how to maintain and adjust it herself for years. It's kind of her pride and joy. If it wasn't clear already that she's a big smarty pants.

So, yeah. That's Ricka. I find her a harder to think about because she's less upfront than Shelly by a long shot. Her presence doesn't come with the same bombastic instant gratification. It does however come with an internal narration that would feel at home in a hard boiled detective mystery novel. So, that's something.

[chickensarentcheap]

A Steve and Maizie drabble for @youflickedtooharddamnit.  Based on the prompt of rubbing comforting circles into someone’s skin.

Not my best work! I’m not used to writing short stuff lol.  But I hope you enjoy it :D 

I will also tag:  @tragiclyhip, @secretaryunpaid, @residentdormouse, @ninjasawakenedmystar, @munstysmind, @mostly-marvel-musings, @presidentlokis-hornyhelmet, @starryeyes2000​

*****

It’s been hours since any real progress.  No increase in contractions,  no dilation past six centimetres.  Under normal circumstances, a woman would have been released some time ago; things allowed to naturally unfold in the comforts of her own home.   But issues with mom and baby both remain;  fluctuations from extremely low to terrifying high heart rates that require constant monitoring and supervision.    So here he  remains;  parked in an uncomfortable bedside chair as Maizie attempts to rest.   Her weary body a playground for various medical equipment;  a fetal monitor attached to her stomach,  sensors continuously monitoring her heart rate and blood pressure,  IV lines delivering -through the needling piercing the top of her right hand- a mixture of  much needed hydration and a medication designed to speed up the labour process.  And while seeing her so ill and vulnerable has been extremely difficult, he’s refused to leave her side or even close his eyes;  brushing off the suggestions of food and drink or even a couple hours of sleep from well meaning nurses.

He can’t remember a time when  he’s felt this helpless.  Unable to render any sort of aid or comfort;  able to do little more than fetch glasses of ice water and wish for the difficulties to pass and the rest of the experience to go smoothly.  It’s the most worried and scared he’s ever been in his life. At least while NOT  under heavy doses of Phobica or Darkenfloxx.   His wife and son  both under enormous amounts of stress;  the latter’s life hanging more precariously in the balance.   It had taken him months to be fully accepting of welcoming a child into the world;  worried that his lack of positive experience to draw on would make him a horrible father.  He would try of course;  somehow manage to put his family above his work and give the attention and love that both mother and baby deserve.  The news that she’d been expecting hitting him hard and fast;  returning from the ‘dead’ after a three month sabbatical only to find out that he was going to be a father.  Lending a hand in creating a life; an innocent human being that had been conceived during the final weeks at Spiderhead; pinpointed to either the night before or the day that Heather had taken her own life.    

It scares him.   Fatherhood.   The realization that someone completely depends on him for even the most basic of needs.   The thought of having a little one in the house;  the incessant crying and the middle of the night feedings and the near constant attention it requires.   Perhaps he’s too selfish to successfully raise a child of his own;  unable to commit the  same kind of effort and passion and energy that he does into his work.   It still remains the most important thing of course; unable to provide for his wife and his child if he doesn’t devote everything he has into his science and his career.  And where would that leave them?  Separated from the lifestyle that they deserve;  a beautiful home in an idyllic setting and everything that could ever want and need at their fingertips. While not ideal,  It’s a necessity; putting his work above everything else.  One that his wife and eventually his children will become accepting and welcoming of.

Maizie mumbles in her sleep and then issues a long, drawn out sigh;  her eyes flickering open and a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth when she sees him sitting there. 

Reaching out, he places a hand on the top of her head and then leans forward in his chair and presses a kiss to her brow.  “How are you feeling? Are you okay?  Any pain?”

She shakes her head.  “I’m feeling alright.  I guess.  Just tired.  Really, really, REALLY tired.”

“You need to get as much rest as you can.   It’s going to be a long day.  I know this isn’t what you wanted.  Things going wrong.  But you’re in the best possible place, being taken care of by the best possible people. I made sure of that.”

Tears sparkle in her eyes. “It feels like he’s never going to come out. Like he’s going to be stuck in there forever.”

“We both know that’s not going to happen.  It’s scientifically impossible. For him to stay in there.”

“I just want everything to be okay.   I don’t want anything happening to him.   Everything’s gone so well until now. I don’t understand.  I did everything right. I…”

“It’s nothing you did. Or didn’t do.  These things happen, Maize. All the time.  Lots of women have perfectly healthy pregnancies and then they get to the part and complications arise.  But you’re doing fine.  And so he is.  You’re in good hands.”

“I’m scared.   I just want him to be alright.  I just want him out of there.  I just want to hold him and kiss him and…”

“And you WILL. I promise.  We’re past the worst of it. I’m sure of it.  It’s a good sign, yeah? That you were able to sleep.”

“I suppose. You’ve been here all this time?”

“Of course.”  He pecks her lips.  “Where else would I be?”

She reaches for his hand. “Don’t leave, okay? Just stay. I need you to stay.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures her, and laces his fingers with hers;  pressing a kiss to each knuckle before setting their joined hands on the mattress.   His gaze never leaving hers as the pad of his thumb rubs slow, comforting circles on the inside of her wrist. 

[tysonfurybattlepass]

As someone who went to college and got a degree in what they loved (even a typically safe degree by most standards) and still ended up working 17$ an hour fileing papers, it's not something you need to beat yourself up about. It's not to late too get that degree later or to get a job you want without the degree. Hopefully better things come to you soon, I'm just a lurker on your blog but I truly believe you deserve it.

hey, thank you for this message. it means a lot to me to hear from someone who has the experience i often romanticize in my what-ifs.

i struggle with the rather silly belief that, at 23 years of age, i am too old to even try any more. too old to go professional in my sport(s) of choice, too old to go back to school, too chronically ill to quit my day job that provides me health insurance, too old to have any potential left. cognitively i know this isn’t true (athletic prime is around age 29-30, and my mother got her degree at age 45 and is incredibly successful in her field), but i greatly tie my worth to my quantifiable achievements, of which i have few. a handful of silver medals in varying sports, a mediocre 3.6 high school diploma, and a decent understanding of character design but incredibly poor technical drawing skill achieved entirely through trial and error because i was too proud to take art classes as a middle schooler. oh, and one state amateur title in boxing. the second state amateur title i lost to the girl i had beaten previously for the first one, lol.

anyway, all that to say that this is a mentality i struggle with all the time, and i hope is relatable to other young people whose circumstances make it difficult to pursue what they want, all while the news seems to be filled with teen genius success stories that only serve to make us wonder “what is wrong with me?”.

i greatly appreciate your perspective as someone with a different experience than mine, and your encouragement means a lot. thank you.

[csharpdestroyer]

introducing... alex!

➜ Ⅰ. about

hey hi hello! welcome to my little tumblr island. you can call me alexios, alex, mars, or brailie. i prefer the first three. i use they/he/she pronouns. i prefer the first two, especially he/him. i am sixteen years old, in my junior year of high school. im transmasc, nonbinary and aroace. please only use masculine and neutral terms on me! im neurodivergent (adhd, autism and tourettes). my birthday is february 28th, born in the year 2006!

➜ Ⅱ. content

im an oc and fan artist. i usually draw lord of the flies content using my designs for the kids! i also reblog lotf, madoka magica, and hadesgame fanart, as well as general posts i find funny/informative. i don't have commissions set up just yet but i hope to take them in the future. i accept art trades (they're always open) so if you want to do one just send me an ask or message me! i especially like art trades where we draw each other's designs for a specific lotf character so feel free to hmu about those too

➜ Ⅲ. lotf

my main hyperfixation right now is lord of the flies. that is almost exclusively the type of art you'll see on my page. here's some stuff related to my lotf content!

relationships:

ralph x jack (romantic)

simon x roger (romantic)

maurice x sam (romantic)

piggy x bill (queer platonic)

ralph and piggy (best friends)

jack and roger (best friends)

percival and max (best friends)

simon and wilfred (friends)

simon and maurice (friends)

ralph, piggy, and simon (trio)

jack, roger, and maurice (trio)

piggy and jack (rivals)

aus:

lord of the disambiguation - often called disambiguation for short. an extended version of lotf that picks up right after jack splits off from ralph's group. no one dies. the two groups just have to find a way to live and work together to survive

lord of the high school - a semi-modern au that follows the kids as they try to navigate british private school life. the name is a misnomer since they're actually in middle school, not high school (i didn't change the ages) but it's too late to change it now

lord of the epilogue - picks up right at the end of the book. just a continuation of the story. features the crew of the naval ship, who happen to be led by ralph's father. unfortunate events happen

related:

land of tall faith - also called forgiveness of a god unknown. a story based on my prediction for what lotf would be about before i read it. follows a european girl entering a foreign society and experiencing their culture. after connecting with their god, proving her loyalty, and being sacrificed multiple times, she eventually decides to stay with them instead of returning to her society. characters' appearances are based on lotf characters

woodingham manor - a criticism of lotf, which seeks to show the flaws in the book's message. presents the story of a detective group investigating a cold case that visits an old manor to find clues, but find themselves locked in. things happen, people die, and truth finally sets them free. the plot and characters need reworking, please bare with me. all characters are based on lotf characters

links:

lord of the headcanons

lord of the epilogue

woodingham manor

➜ Ⅳ. asks

there is an ask tab on my profile that you can use to send me things! you can send me drawing requests or just things you want to tell/ask me. for drawing requests, ill draw any lotf character (no other fandoms please). i will draw my design for them if not specified. if you want me to draw yours or someone else's lotf designs please attach an image! if you want me to draw your oc, please attach an image! no promises that ill draw them but if i have time i will

➜ Ⅴ. ocs

though i mainly post about lotf on here, i do have ocs which i love and cherish! here's links to information about some of my oc projects. you can also check out my toyhouse (linked at the bottom) for character references if you want to draw them! i will love you forever if you gift me oc art

braithology

romeo and julian

inequality syndrome

cybergod

heaven is hiring

the periodic end

orchestra simulator (shared project with @fire-down-the-vine)

➜ Ⅵ. socials

here's where you can find me on other sites! if you want/need to message me id prefer you didnt do so on here as my messages seem to be broken, im available on twitter, instagram and discord pretty much all the time! feel free to message me about lotf related stuff if you want, ill be up to talk

socials are listed in order of how active i am on them

carrd

twitter

instagram

discord

toyhouse

ao3

end scene!

[sweetcloverheart]

Miracuclass + Sports & Hobby headcanons

Personalized list made by me on what sort of sports/hobbies the temp heroes (+Lila and Felix) did/used to do to justify how they manage handling their Miraculous weapons just have fun with/save for fanfic. Note that I will be skipping over Adrien, Kagami, Kim, Alix, and Luka since we already know their hobbies/sports

Marinette: Definitely did gymnastics when she was little, though she fell a lot at the start. Tom and Sabine likely had to pull her due to a combination of not being able to afford letting her continue and also needing her help at the bakery. Becoming Ladybug caused her to pick up yoyoing and other stringed toys.

Ayla: Was in band in her old middle school likely, that or did the mandatory music class all elementary/middle schoolers do. Also probably did rock climbing/jogging (hence why she always manages to get to the scene so quickly) and is into the french equivalent of the Lockpicking Lawyer. No I will not explain the last one.

Nino: Used to do a lot of skateboarding and frisbe before he got into music/film. Definitely into geotracking and trivia games (specializing in noir films and contemporary artists), and also cosplay.

Max: Probably did baseball or something running related back when he was younger, likely forced “at the behest” of parents who worried he was spending too much time inside. After that, he’d go skip rocks at a pond near the house during his mandatory “outside time”. Probably also played with a lot models and building kits, especially planes considering his mother’s job

Rose: Was also likely in band (and/or choir), but her chronic illness likely forced her to quit since her body couldn’t handle it (which probs makes being part of Kitty Section super important and fun for her in getting back that chance she lost). Likely also enjoys scrapbooking and doll collecting. Huge romance novel enthusiast with a penchant for “Cinderella” tales, dogged courtships, and starcrossed lovers. Also a fan of musicals

Juleka: Was into theater at one point, but a bad incident involving stage-fright and her “photography curse” soured the experience for her. Substitutes this with an interest in makeup/props. Luka taught her how to play a wide variety of instruments, but tends to prefer stringed ones. Also likely did rowing, or at least knows how to operate a boat (same with Luka) thanks to her mom

Chloe: Ballet. Look at her moves as Queen Bee. Not mistake, Chloe is 100% a ballet kid and practiced religiously because it got her parents to take an investment in her existence for a while. Quit after Andre missed her graduation recital. Also likely did gymnastics, though this was quit more out of boredom. (She also tried getting into sewing/designing to one up Marinette, but she lacks the patience and nimble handwork needed)

Nathaniel: Aside from art, he also took up rollerblading after befriending Alix. Not very coordinated, but it’s a fun pastime. Also does yoga since drawing has him sitting in place a lot so it helps keep him from getting stiff/back and hand problems.

Zoe: Took contemporary dance lessons back in New York as well as acting classes courtesy of Audrey and the Lee family. Does Zoomba as a workout and to keep her skills sharp. Probably also jogs, but this is mostly just for fun. Likes to go sightseeing around the city in her freetime (and use it as a bonding attempt for herself, Chloe, and Audrey, though with mix results)

Marc: Also did skateboarding, but dropped it right after. Enjoys writing mostly, but did have a point in his life where he just went through several hobbies to see if something stuck. Knows how to do calligraphy, but it’s mostly so he can practice giving autographs for his and Nathaniel’s future comics.

Sabrina: Used to do peewee soccer (I’m sorry, “Football”) and then junior soccer, but after befriending Chloe and her mom’s death, she stopped due to “not having enough time”. Does still practice by herself when she has the time, if any. Knows how to forge signatures and pick locks due Roger constantly having “incidents” when trying to show off to her.

Mylene: Was the hopscotch and doubledutch queen back in elementary school. Also a trivia buff like Nino, particularly when it comes oldies and horror movies, and enjoy romantic novels that lean more into the supernatural. Is the type to rewatch movies and act out the scene line for line (and sing along if it’s a musical). Absolutely dressed up in her dad’s old costumes/props.

Ivan: Parents made him do wrestling when younger on account of a sudden growth-spurt, but he heavily disliked it and was uncomfortable with how physical the sport was, so they eventually pulled him. Took an interest in the drums after a mandatory music class, but his parents either couldn’t afford it or disapproved, so he taught himself via youtube. Likes stuff that involves his hands, like crafting or gardenwork. Also enjoys rehearsing with Mylene when the class has a play or Nino asks them to help him with a film project

Lila: Mom put her in acting classes during one of their moves (a mistake on her part), and she took an interest, so she got her books on theater and acting (also a mistake). Is a huge reader since the constant travel required her to keep herself busy somehow. Tends to lean towards dramas and mysteries, as well as teen fantasy (particularly the ones that involve ordinary girls moving into a new town and discovering they’re secretly super special and powerful). Also likes to write, particularly poetry (and is actually decent at it). Def had a cringey self-insert phase and keeps all the resultant fics hidden behind 80 layers of security

Felix: Agreeing with the popular headcanon that Felix knows how to do magic/slight-of-hand, likely taught by his dad. Had also done fencing like Adrien, though he sort of lost interest after his father’s death. Has a good eye for fashion because of his mother, and took an interest in acting thanks to his aunt. The occasional twin-switching with Adrien has given him some pretty good makeup skills too. Is probably a Shakespeare nerd and Greekophile (Boy called himself Argos for crying out loud!). Also had a cringey self-insert phase, but unlike Lila, he smartly burned all the evidence

Bonus round -

Gabriel is the five time champion fencer of his old alma mater. Despite his Crest-toothpaste body and spending 2/3rds of his day maniacally laughing in his attic, the dude actually does work out. Emille jokingly used to have him rehearse with her and once had him sit in on an acting class she was guest speaking for.

Nathalie has a yellow belt in judo, green in karate, and Brown in Krav Maga. Knows how to code. Took dance lessons when she was younger, but never really continued after entering high school. Does yoga as a destresser from having to babysit Gab’s dumb self. Has started watching DIY tutorials and taken up writing since being bedridden by the peacock miraculous.

Emille used to enjoy biking on the weekends as well as rock climbing in her youth and photography, and continued after marrying Gabriel and having Adrien. The damage from the peacock slowly caused her to withdraw from these activities, and eventually she stopped going outside all together

Bonus Bonus Round

Adrien picked up some of his current hobbies (Video games, soccer, ect) because the theme of some of his shoots centered around them and he took an interest

Kagami likes to play chess as she finds the game stimulating, and is, unbeknownst to her, in a heated rivalry with Nathalie in a related online group. Her manga selection has expanded to include Shounen, Mystery, Sports, and Historical.

While he was dating Marinette, Luka learned how to mend his clothes and stitch cool rock patches onto his coat. Has written several songs since his breakup with her, but doesn’t have any plans on playing them.

Kim and Alix tried to get into Parkour at one point, or will in the future, and it was/will be a disaster for all involved.

[phantomfitzroy]

I got caught and tagged like a wild animal by @cromerholt AND @noellevanious :-) quastions time

Are you named after anyone? Technically yes. When I listened to TAZ:Graduation I was really caught on Fitzroy Maplecourt, Knight in Absentia to the realm of Goodcastle 's name for some reason. Don't get me wrong, Griffin made a very fun character but I really don't associate my attachment to the name to him at all. It was more like inspiration, you know? Also my middle name, Aleksandr, is from an old ass youtuber I used to watch religiously in high school. If you know you know. I still use it as a first name, though, Fitz and Aleks are both good names I will respond to. Fun fact, my best friend called me Aleks through our junior/high school before I knew I was trans. I guess it just stuck.

When was the last time you cried? Yesterday. I watched a vid of an older woman with Alzheimer's talking with her daughter. She repeatedly asked her daughter to stop calling her mom, which did get to me, but what got to me most was her gradually remembering her daughter as the video went on while she looked at old photos and trinkets from her past. It really got to me.

Do you have kids? Nope :-) I fluctuate between not wanting kids and maybe wanting kids. I'm sure I'll have a better idea when I'm older and actually can take care of myself first.

What sports do you play/have you played? I used to play basketball in junior high. Also if you count marching band? Our director had us doing laps around the football field before practice and shit.

Do you use sarcasm? A very hesitant yes. I hardly use it, the closest I could say I get to sarcasm most of the time is just telling silly lies to people, but there's never any ill will behind it ever. I just like seeing what I can get people to believe, but I always let people know I lied after.

What's the first thing you notice about someone? In a physical sense their smile. I'm drawn to people's mouths for some reason. But in a broader sense the first thing I notice is usually the way they interact with other people.

Eye color? Hazel. I've got this cool ring of orangeish gold around my pupils.

Scary movies or happy endings? Depends on the day. I usually like scary movies though. As long as the ending is satisfying, it doesn't have to be happy for me to have enjoyed the experience.

Any talents? I don't like talking myself up but I am pretty good at acting and singing. Admittedly, I think I'm a better singer now than before my voice dropped from HRT.

Where were you born? Midwest. Minnesota. You're not getting anything closer than that, I shant dox myself.

Hobbies? Art. I draw and have been trying to get back into painting. I also technically do theatre as a hobby currently, since I don't get paid for the performances I'm in. And viddy games :-)

Any pets? I do not legally have pets, at least not in my own home, but I consider my dad's dogs my dogs since I take care of them as much (if not more) than they do lmao. Also one of my mom's dogs is technically mine, since I did pay for him when we got him, but I haven't been able to have pets anywhere I've lived since I moved out so he stays with my momma.

Height? 5'4"... I thought I was 5'5" until I was 18 years old.

Favorite school subject? I liked most science classes in school. The graphic design class I took in high school was fuckin awesome. Currently, though, I'm trying to teach myself to code and I'm enjoying that immensely.

Dream job? Professional acting!! Ideally I'd do live theatre, musical or otherwise. But I think I'd also be happy doing film. I would also be very happy as a live theatre director, though I'd need more experience directing first. I would also love love love to be a part of a professional improv troupe. Because I'm a dweeb. And good at improv.

Now I get to tag people. @genderkiller @gravellymistaken @nilovalentine @thesexiestlobster if you guy wanna do this :-) also anyone else who wants to, this was fun smiles

[tehuti88-art]

6/23/23: r/SketchDaily theme, "Free Draw Friday." This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Major/Master Sergeant Lars Franke: Sans cap (top drawing), with peaked cap (second drawing), with field cap and goggles (third drawing), with field cap and goggles on (bottom drawing). He's a former adjutant/guard who's forced to go on "medical leave" after a mental breakdown so accepts a demotion and transfers to a tank unit. He has...issues. There'll be more about him later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding his design, he's a Doberman pinscher. I was going to give him headphones, but couldn't figure out how to draw them, then decided they're more of a work accessory than part of his uniform. This isn't quite how I picture him, though I do know he's a Doberman, has brown hair, and usually has an angry expression.

TUMBLR EDIT: Franke is more of a back character--he's absent throughout almost the entire main storyline--so his history hasn't been developed yet. For now I'll assume he had a relatively normal, if strict, traditional middle-class German upbringing. For whatever reason, he takes a fancy to the Nazi Party and joins the SS. I'm unsure if he was in the Great War--I don't think so--or if he fights at all in the early days of the second war--again, I doubt it. He enters the SS-Totenkopfverbände, the guard units who administer the budding camp system, though the SS-TV is closely aligned with the Waffen-SS so there's the understanding that he could be shipped off to the front at any time if the need arises. When he joins, this possibility is distant, so he doesn't dwell on it when he's assigned to a camp.

It's a rather new camp Franke eventually ends up at, and a new commandant is on the way. The story is he's a transfer from another camp and has a rather shady reputation due to a couple of mysterious incidents, one involving the death of a prisoner who committed suicide by electrocuting himself, the other involving the deaths of his own parents. Although his involvement in the first incident is almost ensured and has even become a bit of an urban legend--witnesses claim he didn't lay a finger on or even threaten the man, just walked toward him, at which the prisoner panicked and went running straight into the electric fence--the second incident is much murkier; although his mother was supposedly very ill, and chose (mostly) legal euthanasia over dying slowly, there are vague rumors of some sort of inappropriate relationship between the two, and their possible involvement in the earlier death of her husband/his father, who supposedly died of a heart attack...except there may have been hints of suffocation. It's all quite salacious and unproven, of course, but his reputation involving the death of the inmate is said to have contributed to his transfer--and promotion--in the new camp: The higher-ups wanted somebody particularly nasty for the job, and Lt. Col. Ernst Dannecker is said to fit the bill.

The guards are curious about him not only because of the rumors, but because he'll have to pick an adjutant, or second-in-command, from among them. When he arrives, he seems like nothing special, in fact, he appears to be bored with the entire situation. Hardly seems like the hardened killer type. Still...Franke is ambitious, and immediately starts angling for the promotion. He's just unsure how to most effectively do it. Dannecker seems impervious to fawning and flattery, which is all Franke knows, so he tries to make himself useful, indispensable, instead. This means doing all the unpleasant chores Dannecker needs done but nobody else wants to do. This at least captures Dannecker's attention, but nothing much else. Franke gets so frustrated at his lack of progress that one day when a prisoner accidentally splashes mud on his pants he loses his temper, knocking him down with his stick, then kicking him, screaming the entire time. The prisoner is helped up by his fellows and skulks off while Franke sits down on a piece of wall and grumbles and fusses over the stains. A voice behind him--another guard, he assumes--says, "You're really so prissy that you'll let a mudstain bother you?" to which Franke, incensed, snaps, "F**k off!" There's a pause, then the other person steps around in front of him; Franke bristles and lifts his head to cuss at him again, only to notice his collar tabs--the SS-TV Totenkopf, and four silver pips with a black-on-silver stripe, an Obersturmbannführer--then his face--Dannecker wears a mildly peeved expression. Franke promptly shoots to his feet and salutes, bobbing his head and removing his cap for good measure.

Franke: "A--apologies, Kamerad Kommandant! I didn't know it was you."

Dannecker: "Really? You would've spoken differently had you known?"

Franke: "Of course, Kamerad Kommandant."

Dannecker: "So you're saying you like to lie to your superior officers."

Franke: "I..." *confused* "Of--of course not, Kamerad Kommandant...?"

Dannecker: "You're really bad at this, you know?"

Dannecker turns and walks away. On the one hand, Franke is glad not to be struck or reprimanded for his disrespect, but on the other hand, it looks like he maybe missed his chance to win Dannecker over. Lying in his bunk that night, he mulls over it all. His faux pas did little more than annoy Dannecker; it must have been his assault of the prisoner that got his attention. Franke winces--beating down prisoners isn't his thing--but makes a mental note. Of course it makes sense, when Dannecker was allegedly assigned this camp on account of his own brutality: Violence is what gets his attention. Franke has to be more violent.

He makes a point, then, of smacking the prisoners around when he gets the chance, though it isn't much different from what the other guards already routinely do. Just randomly beating the s**t out of one is technically against the rules. So Franke is still struggling to think of what to do when he gets into a verbal spat with one of his fellow guards one day. He's still frustrated at his lack of progress, too, and if there's one thing Franke is really bad at handling, it's frustration. Result, the verbal spat soon becomes physical, and after a bit of shoving around, Franke hauls off and punches the other guard, promptly laying him out. It's not like the time he hit the prisoner, though--guards fight back. So the other guy pushes himself up, shakes himself off, and comes right back swinging. Franke hits him first, then commences pummeling him, left and right, until he goes down again; then Franke starts kicking. A couple of other guards who'd been watching finally grab Franke's elbows and pull him back. It takes a few minutes for him to simmer down a bit, and he stomps off to the other side of the yard to stew while the unconscious guard is carried to the medical building. A little while later, Franke is summoned to Dannecker's office; he grimaces but reluctantly heads for the administration building, knowing full well what to expect. Fighting among guards is strictly forbidden. On the walk there he tries to think of what other sorts of jobs might be open to him.

Franke finds Dannecker waiting with arms crossed, another visiting SS official standing beside him. As he watches, perplexed, Dannecker pulls out some folded Reichsmarks and hands them to the other officer, who offers an awkward salute and excuses himself. Dannecker crosses his arms again.

Dannecker: "You lost me some money today, Kamerad. I bet against you."

Franke: *blinking, confused* "P...pardon?"

Dannecker: "Anyone can smack around a half-starved prisoner, but it's something else entirely to knock out one of your Kameraden. I figured you didn't have it in you. Especially after all that girly fuss over your uniform."

Franke: "Am...am I being reprimanded?"

Dannecker: "That depends." *comes around the desk to face him* "I'm not looking for anyone who makes a habit of walloping his fellow officers, you understand?"

Franke: "Of--of course not, Kamerad Kommandant."

Dannecker: "I am looking for someone, however, who isn't squeamish about anything that needs to be done. No matter how unpleasant. Understand?"

Franke: "J--ja, Kamerad Kommandant."

Dannecker: *leans uncomfortably close* "Tell me, Kamerad, if you ever get someone's blood, or brains, splashed onto that nice shiny uniform of yours, what'll you do...?"

Franke: "I..." *swallows* "I--just hope that I'll be the one who made that person bleed, Kamerad Kommandant."

Even as he says it, Franke's also thinking, "WTF." That's definitely not what he'd be hoping for. Still...he feels the need to pretend it's what he would want. There's a slight pause, then a smile slowly creeps up Dannecker's face--Franke has to force himself not to shudder when realization hits. Dannecker isn't simply cruel. He's a sadist.

Franke gets promoted to the rank of Sturmbannführer and the position of adjutant, though it feels rather like he sold his soul to do so--fitting, as Dannecker has already earned himself the whispered nickname of "Der Teufel" (The Devil), which he doesn't seem to mind when word of it reaches him--he even eventually procures an ornate, and presumably expensive, tapestry (by illegally trading away a Jewish prisoner set to be terminated) featuring the Devil, which he hangs on the wall not far from his office. Franke swallows his revulsion, however--if this is what it takes to move up in the world, well, he only wishes he had a few more souls to sell.

He takes to his new role with gusto, bossing around the other guards in such a manner that even Dannecker has to pull him back now and then ("You want them afraid of you, Kamerad, not so annoyed they slip laxatives into your coffee"), as well as terrorizing the prisoners (Dannecker takes no issue with that) and handling all the tedious everyday administrative affairs Dannecker has little mind for. He excels at this last duty, keeping things running a lot more smoothly than they otherwise would, considering Dannecker's chaotic leadership style; he also provides a mediating voice when officials visit and Dannecker says things he really shouldn't say, in effect greasing the bureaucratic wheels when necessary. He might have a pissy attitude when dealing with his equals or underlings, but he knows how to suck up, and uses that to both his and Dannecker's advantage.

As time goes on he also learns how to pick up on Dannecker's quirks, and learns through experience when to avoid him. Dannecker tends not to often lose his temper--in contrast with the frequently volatile Franke--but he does get infuriated in his own particular way. Franke knows that when he falls quiet and gets an unpleasant glint in his eyes to steer clear of him or else--this tends to happen either right before he shoots someone, threatens to shoot them (he likes carrying a revolver, the better to play Russian roulette), or embarks on what become known as his "pet projects." The first time a prisoner enrages him enough to carry out a pet project, the amount of time and effort he puts into it is breathtaking to behold; and Dannecker ends up not even needing to kill the guy. The prisoner does this himself, when the guards enter the prisoner barracks one day to find him hanging from a bunk. Although pet projects aren't his cup of tea, Franke can't help but be impressed; the rumor about the prisoner in the previous camp, who would've rather thrown himself at an electric fence than keep dealing with Dannecker, makes more sense now, and he's awed that somebody can inflict such fear without even needing to beat someone. It takes a special mindset to pull off such a thing, and he knows he lacks that. The problem, though, is how unfortunately easy it is to get sucked into a pet project without intending it; Dannecker doesn't care about collateral damage, so Franke and the other guards quickly learn to keep their distance whenever he gets that glint in his eyes.

Franke is surprised when Dannecker appoints a Jewish prisoner, Isaak Schindel, as Lagerälteste, or kapo, to help keep the prisoners in line, in exchange for better food and lodgings. Dannecker has an especial hatred for the Jews, cracking down harder on them than on others in the camp such as Roma or Slavs. Why would he choose to put one in a position of authority? Dannecker tells Franke that he actually gave him the idea, and he thought it might be "fun" somewhere along the way. Franke's not sure what to make of that, but he knows it can't be good, and Schindel is likely to become a part of one of Dannecker's pet projects. And that's exactly what happens when the camp gets a new batch of prisoners; Franke, observing selections (it isn't an extermination camp with gas chambers, but prisoners deemed unfit for work are shot and sent to the crematorium--smoke plumes from the chimney more days than not), has no reason to take notice of one new arrival, a former jeweler and document forger named Josef Diamant, but he'll become quite familiar with that name soon. Diamant is sent to the right...forced labor, rather than death. Franke, bored, pays him no attention as he's pushed along into the camp.

He knows the s**t's about to hit the fan, however, when one day Dannecker does lose his temper and starts beating a prisoner in the yard. Nobody dares to intervene, not only because they know they stand no chance, but because it's just such a novel situation to witness. So it comes as even more of a shock when Diamant abruptly jumps forward and knocks Dannecker's hand aside, sending his stick flying. Absolutely EVERYONE--all guards, all prisoners, Schindel, Franke, and not least of all Dannecker himself--freezes. Dannecker doesn't even look angry, he's in such disbelief. From Schindel's entry:

Everyone expects Dannecker to lay into Diamant next, but he simply lowers his arm, turns, and walks back toward the administration building. Diamant tries to help up the beaten prisoner but is shoved away--"What have you done? You've only made it worse! He'll kill us both, now!" And indeed, a murmur ripples through the camp: Dannecker is striding back, seemingly having composed himself. The prisoner gets on his knees and starts begging for forgiveness--Dannecker doesn't even stop to look at him, just pulls out his revolver and shoots him in the head. Schindel and everyone else watches as Diamant panics and goes running, Dannecker fiddling with his gun as he just continues walking after him. He corners Diamant against a wall, puts the gun to his head, and fires--nothing happens, yet Dannecker smiles and says, "Your lucky day, Jew." There's a reason Dannecker prefers carrying a revolver--easy to play Russian roulette, one of his favorite torture methods. He doesn't kill Diamant that day, but later that night, he arrives at one of the prisoners' barracks after dark and motions the guard to let him in. Schindel isn't there to see it, but other prisoners who are wakened by Dannecker's unexpected appearance murmur about it the next day. Dannecker singles out Diamant's bunk, kneels down, presses his gun to his head, and whispers a promise. Diamant is officially his new pet project.

Franke looks on from a safe distance over the following weeks. Dannecker's psychological torture is so effective as he's expert at playing the long game; a single pet project can go on for months. He often goes many days without doing anything at all, which just drives his victims even crazier trying to figure out if he's done with them yet or when the other shoe is going to drop. Well, he pulls this on Diamant, and it starts to work--it isn't long before Diamant is a nervous wreck--yet it doesn't go as quickly as Dannecker would prefer. He decides he needs to step things up, and one day has both Schindel and Diamant brought to his office. Franke waits outside in the hallway; the three are in there for only a little while, not too long at all, but by the time Dannecker calls for Franke to come in, something drastic has obviously happened. He steps into the office to find Dannecker seated casually in his chair, the two prisoners standing before him much as Franke left them; both of them are shaking. Diamant looks positively miserable and humiliated, his eyes wet, while Schindel is actually sobbing. Franke wonders WTF Dannecker could've done to get such a reaction, but all that the commandant does is wave his hand dismissively and say, "Take them both back to the yard and return to your duties, bitte." Franke obeys--neither of them protests--and all goes on as normal.

Until a few days later, that is, when Schindel, unprovoked, knocks Diamant down on his way to morning roll call and starts beating the living s**t out of him with his stick, screaming for him to fight back--which the normally rebellious Diamant refuses to do. Franke, seeing the commotion, hurries over to break it up, only to get hit in the face by Schindel's club; he stumbles back in pain and surprise, and a few other guards hurry to beat Schindel into submission. All three of them--Diamant, Schindel, and Franke--go to the medical building, where Franke scowls and winces the entire time a physician tends to his broken nose; he has to wait a bit for the others to regain consciousness before going to reprimand them. Normally, he'd love the chance to thrash them both personally; yet things between these two and Dannecker are anything but normal, and he does not want to get caught up in a pet project. He's actually dreading when he'll need to inform Dannecker of what happened. So he settles for a harsh verbal rebuke--gritting his teeth at the way the nearby physician's assistants try not to laugh at his stupidly nasal voice--while Schindel and Diamant just sit silently with their heads down. They both quietly say Ja, Herr Sturmbannführer when he demands that they understand, then he dismisses them. He's very cranky and unhappy indeed to have to steel himself to address Dannecker...yet when he delivers the news, Dannecker simply smirks a little and goes on with his day. On the one hand, Franke is immensely relieved not to be punished himself; yet on the other, he wishes more than ever that he knew what's going on. He reminds himself not to meddle in a pet project, treats himself to a hot shower and then a cold pack for his throbbing nose, and retires to bed early.

Franke is too wrapped up in his own annoyances to pay much attention to what's going on in the following days, so he misses a lot of warning signs that Dannecker's project is unraveling. It's not unusual--for Dannecker, at least--when he brings his young stepdaughter Margarethe to visit the camp; he loves lavishing her with attention, including showing her off to the men in the camp--guards and prisoners alike--although they know very well that the teenager is off limits. Now and then Franke cuffs a guard upside the head for eyeing Gret a little too long--"She's a child, you degenerate!"--but he has no similar reaction to Dannecker himself. Very vague but unpleasant rumors circulate that, just as the commandant appeared to have an unseemly relationship of some sort with his mother, the same may be occurring with his stepdaughter. He walks arm-in-arm with her like a couple, fawns over her pretty dresses (which he buys her) and long blond braids (which he likes to run his fingers down), brags to her about his camp and brags to his men about her, and likes putting his arm around her shoulders and drawing her a little too close while murmuring in her ear. Granted, all this could just be proof of a devoted, loving stepfather...just that he has a devoted, loving wife...and three other stepchildren...yet he never brings any of them along for a visit. Gret, for her part, never protests, though she never smiles or otherwise responds, either. Franke decides that if anything is indeed going on, well, he has no proof, and it's nobody's business--he puts it out of his mind. So he misses the fact that Diamant DOES make Gret his business, and even manages to tentatively communicate with her. Schindel, observing this but not wishing to draw unwanted attention back to his contentious history with Diamant, grows fidgety and anxious; Franke simply scolds him to snap out of whatever's wearing on him and do his job. Schindel despises Diamant, yet has nothing against Gret, who's always been polite to him--and he's more afraid of getting drawn back into the pet project than of whatever rebuke he might get for not snitching on some vague behavior. Unlike Franke, he knows something is happening. But he keeps his mouth shut.

The result of Franke's lack of attention is that the culminating event takes him completely by surprise, even though, in retrospect, he could have easily seen the signs he overlooked, were he the retrospective type. One day while Gret is visiting with Dannecker, and Diamant has been set up at a craft station nearby to work on a ring Gret requested from her stepfather as a gift (Franke did at least try to convince Dannecker that giving Diamant temporary privileges might be a bad idea, but was promptly shut down--"My Gret wants the very best ring," Dannecker had said, "and from what I hear that's the one thing this despicable Jew is good at, aside from being a nuisance"), a guard named Delbrück complains about needing a helping hand in a back file room. Franke knows Delbrück, and can barely stand him; he just seems terribly unmotivated for a guard, and despite his job delivering the finishing shot to any prisoners who survive the frequent, messy mass executions--a job absolutely nobody else volunteered for, until Dannecker issued a threat--he's known for inappropriately fraternizing with Schindel, sharing cigarettes with him. This is the main reason Dannecker got fed up enough to relegate him to a file room. Franke attempts to put him off but Delbrück is just obnoxiously passive-aggressive enough to get him fed up as well, and finally he snaps, "Fine! You get along so well with that f**king murdering Jew (Schindel was accused of manslaughter in the death of a ghetto policeman before being brought to the camp, then severely beat and possibly killed another inmate), HE can lend you a hand! How about that, huh?" Delbrück merely shrugs--"Don't think anyone needs to be Aryan to carry file boxes, Kamerad"--so Franke sends off into the back of the building possibly the one person who might notice everything that's currently amiss, a very perplexed Schindel, and retires to his own office to get some much-needed work done.

After some time, another guard peeks in, mentions stopping by Dannecker's office after hearing an odd noise, and talking with Gret, who explained that she accidentally fired her stepfather's gun so he sent her out into the hall for a bit--strange behavior for someone usually so indulgent--so he couldn't deliver some info Dannecker had requested earlier in the day. Gret is well liked by the guards, and she mentioned Dannecker not wanting to be disturbed, so Franke advises the guard to comply and just try again later, so he departs. More time passes, he looks at his watch, thinks Delbrück is taking a bit long with his work--maybe he's even slacking off with that Jew?--so he leaves his office to go check. Walks by Dannecker's office on the way--no sign of Gret, and the door is shut, so he figures they're in there together and he doesn't want to think about it. Pops in on Delbrück and Schindel, sees they're in fact merely sorting through the files, though Schindel seems badly rattled by Franke's sudden appearance, then seems confused when he merely tells them to hurry up and leaves again. As he returns to his office he mulls over the odd reaction; it's almost like Schindel had been expecting something else. He pours himself a drink, tries to put the vaguely uneasy, "not-quite-right" feeling out of his head. A little more time passes.

The guard from before reappears, perplexed looking himself; says he really needs to get that info to Dannecker, but when he gingerly knocked on his door, no one answered. Franke sighs and they head to Dannecker's office. Dannecker can get murderous if bothered while in private, likely even more so if Gret's with him, yet the guard wouldn't have bothered if it wasn't important, and besides, it really HAS been quite a while. They stop before Dannecker's door and Franke tentatively knocks, calls out, "Kamerad Kommandant...?" yet gets no response. Frowns, knocks and calls out louder. Nothing. Casts the guard a frowning look--"See what I mean?" the guard says--then, increasingly flustered, he reaches for his keyring and unlocks the door. The two of them hesitate to enter--"Kamerad Kommandant?--it's Kamerad Franke, coming in"--not knowing what to expect. "Is all well, Kamerad...?" Franke calls, noticing no sign of Gret, and no sign of Diamant either--he should be at his crafting station, working on the ring. "Where's the guard...?" Franke asks, and is informed that as Diamant got closer to finishing the ring, the guards eased off of watching so closely, since it had been so long yet he hadn't tried anything. As they enter Dannecker's office, Franke scowls: "I knew this was foolish! Trusting that Jew! The rat probably ran off with the tools Kamerad Dannecker gave him...I bet that's where he's gotten off to, and if I hear you even mention I said this..." Then Franke trails off when he steps around Dannecker's big desk and sees something on the floor in front of the window opposite. His and the guard's eyes widen--"K--Kamerad!"--and Franke rushes forward, dropping to his knee beside Dannecker's still body.

"Nein, nein, nein!" Franke yells in a panic, shaking Dannecker, but all that happens is his head lolls a little--his eyes are wide and staring at the ceiling as if in surprise, a bullet hole in his forehead and a pool of blood surrounding him. "That Jew! Sound the alarm!" Franke cries, and the guard goes running. Then--Franke gasps, glancing around--"Fräulein Gret?--Fräulein Gret!"--he jumps to his feet and starts searching the office and its adjacent rooms for any sign of the commandant's stepdaughter, but she's missing as well. Obviously the Jew's done something horrible to her.

The wail of the siren starts to sound, and the guard rushes back in. "Have you seen Gret--?" Franke asks; the guard's eyes go wide--"L--last I saw her, she said she'd fired his gun--you think--?" Franke cuts off this suggestion: "That must've been when! Obviously that Jew forced her to cover for him. He must have taken her hostage. How long ago was that?" On learning it's been over an hour, he curses and exits the office, the other guard right behind.

The rest of the camp's been thrown into chaos. Everyone knows the alarm means something bad has happened, but nobody knows what. So of course, a big group of guards is converging around the office, looking for info. Franke, startled to suddenly realize he's the highest in rank now, briefly informs them that Dannecker's been killed, Diamant is gone, and he's taken Gret with him. He orders someone to contact the SS main office to report the incident, instructs someone else to take Dannecker's body to the medical building, then tells the guards in charge of the yard to summon all the prisoners to roll call for a head count. Delbrück and Schindel arrive; Franke attempts to blame Schindel for being negligent, but Delbrück defends him, and Franke is forced to abandon this idea as pointless; he did witness Schindel in the file room himself, after all. He goes outside to see how the head count is going.

Dannecker's camp isn't a huge one, but a regular roll call would be too time consuming; instead, the prisoners have all been ordered to their barracks to stand beside their bunks, and an officer goes through each building, making sure everyone is accounted for. Diamant's bunk is of course empty. The news gets worse, however; the guards start returning with names of other missing prisoners--not just Diamant. In all, fourteen prisoners, plus Gret, are unaccounted for. "How did this happen??" Franke exclaims; the guards in the watchtowers saw nothing amiss. Nobody can explain it, and a handful of guards who've been searching the camp and the buildings don't find anything either--no holes, no tunnels, no openings in the fence, nothing. Diamant, Gret, and the rest have vanished into thin air. The guards dish out a few threats and physical blows but the prisoners have nothing to report, either.

Franke knows a massive scandal is incoming. While he's always longed for a position of authority...he's not sure how to handle it, now that it's suddenly fallen in his lap. It's all a bit much to take in at once. And he starts to see immediately just how shoddy a job Dannecker actually did running his camp. There's an escape route unaccounted for, OR the guards are really just that inept. For Gret to have been kidnapped is simply too awful to countenance. Then, after he instructs someone to release the ID photos of the escapees, along with a portrait of Gret, to the authorities for use in making wanted and missing signs, the guard meekly returns to tell him that, while he's located an appropriate photo of Gret, and the ID pics of thirteen of the inmates, there's no photo of Diamant himself for him to release. Dumbfounded, Franke asks if it's been misplaced. The guard tries not to grimace; no, not that, the photo hasn't gone missing, he says; rather, it looks as if no photo was ever taken of Diamant when he entered the camp...they can't find any photos of him at all. They have no images of the likely escape ringleader to release to the public.

That's it...Franke explodes. "What sort of a camp are we running??" he screams. "How did the fool even remember to put his trousers on every morning?? What is this s**tshow?!" He insists that, starting now, things will be different--with him in charge. He'll fix all the mess Dannecker left behind. A few of the gathered guards blink in surprise--while it's expected that the adjutant should assume temporary emergency control of the camp, it's definitely NOT a given that he will be the new commandant. There's an official process to follow. Yet when somebody tries to remind Franke of this, he screams back at them that drastic times call for drastic measures, and he's the only one suited for the job. "You think you can do so much better?" he demands. "Go ahead! Try! Which one of you thinks you can do so much better than I can! Step forward, I dare you!"

Brief silence; nobody objects, though nobody looks happy either. Franke's about ready to gloat when--unspeakable!--one of the guards, a lieutenant, pushes his way forward. "The rest of you are going to be such p*ssies?" he snaps, then, to Franke: "You know there's a process, Kamerad! You're no better than the rest of us. You want to make it up as you go along, well, fine then, who's to say I couldn't do it just as well as you would?--or better, even!"

A murmur arises--a handful of the other guards start furtively speculating how good a job they might do, who knows. Most of them, however, remain silent, several even taking a step or two back--they've noticed the look creeping up Franke's face, shock at being so spoken to, then the flush entering his cheeks and the murder in his eyes. Franke's barely able to keep himself from shaking with rage as he forces himself to say in as calm a voice as possible, "Herr Schindel! Up front." The kapo immediately appears beside him, cap in hand, head lowered. "J...ja, Herr Sturmbannführer...?" he meekly says, to which Franke replies, "Herr Schindel, use your stick and thrash this man."

A kapo is expected to obey all SS orders...yet Schindel doesn't move. Franke looks at him and sees the fear and confusion on his face.

Schindel: "P...pardon, Herr Sturmbannführer?"

Franke: *hands curling into fists, teeth gritting* "I SAID...take your stick, and beat this man." *Schindel hesitates* *raising voice* "What part of a direct order do you not understand, Jew--?"

Schindel: *stammering* "I...it's...a--a Lagerälteste isn't permitted to lay hands on an SS man, Herr Sturmbannführer--"

Franke: *yelling* "You're disobeying a DIRECT ORDER, Jew--?"

Schindel doesn't move, just stares at him, bewildered and terrified. What he claimed is true, he's not allowed to strike a guard--yet he's not allowed to disregard a guard's order, either. He's literally frozen, not knowing how to react. The other guards start fidgeting and mumbling; if a mere Jew can stand up to Franke, then anyone can. Franke starts to sweat, realizing just how close he is to losing all control of the situation, so he does the only thing he can think of--with a snarl he grabs Schindel's club out of his hand--Schindel jerks back, but doesn't protest--then whirls back around, slamming the cudgel across the guard's face, knocking him down.

Everyone gasps and steps back. The gesture is effective at restoring order--yet suddenly, all thoughts of order flee Franke's mind. A shriek rising in his throat, he launches himself at the guard--all he can see is the horrid disobedience, the gall to question him--and starts slamming Schindel's club down at him over and over. He dimly notices everyone else--guards, kapo, prisoners--shrinking back even further, eyes wide, mouths open--but not only does he not care, he literally CAN'T care, every ounce of reason flees his head and all that's left is blind, irrational rage that anyone would dare to humiliate him like that. Everybody cringes back and watches in stunned disbelief as he beats the s**t out of his fellow SS officer, letting out a bloodcurdling scream the entire time.

"F**k this!" another guard exclaims, turns, and runs to the camp entrance, demanding the guards stationed there to open the gate; they do so, and he goes running from the camp. Nobody else follows him, though a few more retreat, leaving the gruesome scene. The rest stay put, obviously too frightened to leave. Some tiny little voice way in the back of Franke's brain FINALLY asks if maybe he's gone too far, and he abruptly stops his arm in mid-swing, blinking so his vision clears--the other guard is black and blue and bloody and isn't moving. Very briefly, Franke panics again--is he dead, did he just murder a man?--when he notices the guard take in and let out a small breath; he's still alive. For now. Then the fury surges right back, but instead of continuing the beating, Franke hurls the stick at the ground and whirls to face his audience, which recoils a bit. He jerks a hand at the unconscious guard.

"ANYONE who gives him aid or takes him to the medical ward--I'll do the same to you NEXT!" he snarls, turns, and stalks back inside the administration building. And then the real panic sets in. He nearly killed a fellow SS officer. Nearly killed! He saw the looks on everyone else's faces--surely someone will try the same on him next. After all, all it took was a Jew to kill Dannecker. Another guard can easily off him. Consumed by dread all of a sudden, he starts walking briskly, then jogging, then sprinting--having to fight not to cry out in fear, he stumbles into Dannecker's office, slams the door, locks it--sees the huge bloodstain still on the floor, screams, and retreats to the unused living quarters. His fear of being in the same room in which someone was murdered soon fades in the face of the threat of all the living people outside, though, and he forces himself to settle down, though it takes a lot of pacing. He zones in and out a few times, coming to to find himself yelling at the dead commandant, or squatting beside the bloodstain bawling his eyes out, or sitting in Dannecker's chair and admiring his desk, or checking the room with gun drawn just in case there are any murderous Jews hiding. Every time he hears a tentative knock he nearly jumps out of his skin and shrieks to be left alone. Needless to say, it's a very weird and uneasy night. Franke has some bizarre dreams when he dozes off.

The next day, a fresh knock, louder and more authoritative than the rest, comes, along with the call, "Sturmbannführer Franke!"; again he screams for whoever it is to go away. There's a pause, then the same voice yells, "Kamerad Franke! This is Obersturmbannführer Hasso Reinhardt from the administrative office. I order you to open this door immediately!"

Franke blinks, flushes, then hurries to answer the door. In the hallway stands an unfamiliar lieutenant colonel, Schindel beside him, a group of guards and a few Allgemeine-SS officers behind him. They're all staring at him like he's nuts. Franke hastily invites Reinhardt in, and the exchange from his entry takes place.

The lowdown: Yesterday the guard Franke sent away reached the SS main office and reported what had just occurred at the camp (the alarm was widely heard in the vicinity and people were already starting to buzz, though no one knew what was going on, and calls to Dannecker's office went unanswered). Several members of the intelligence unit of the Allgemeine-SS departed for the camp, as investigation of SS-related crimes was under their purview; yet when they attempted to question Franke, he wouldn't answer the door, so they went to examine Dannecker's body in the medical building, not noticing what had happened in the yard. During Franke's rage fit, the other guard fled to SS-TV headquarters to report Franke himself. The situation there was already chaotic with news of Dannecker's death rapidly spreading, yet nobody knew what to do, and it was a while before he got to give his report to anyone. Then quite a while longer--not until the next day--before anyone could be found to go look into things; Reinhardt volunteered as nobody else wanted to, and headed to the camp. Unlike the Allgemeine-SS officers, he immediately noticed the unconscious guard lying on the ground, with Schindel dozing nearby keeping watch; when questioned the kapo confirmed the other guard's story, adding that he'd stayed near the unconscious guard to prevent the other prisoners from killing him. (This whole time, nobody, guards or prisoners, has been working; the entire camp is at a standstill.) Reinhardt effectively dismisses Franke from his self-appointed position as commandant by giving him the choice between resigning (taking a "medical leave"), or facing SS authorities over his bizarre actions. It's not much of a choice, but Franke would far rather leave of his own volition than be subjected to a medical review, so he storms off, frustrated and humilated, vowing that he'll be back.

Well...

Franke gives himself a brief time to stew, then makes a complaint to the SS main office; the Allgemeine-SS refuses to take action, claiming it's a matter for the SS-TV. Ah, bureaucracy. So he complains to the SS-TV main office. They reiterate Reinhardt's stance regarding Franke's aberrant behavior (this characterization REALLY makes him seethe), and while expressing sympathy for his situation, insist there's nothing they can do without subjecting him to a full medical and psychological review, is he really sure he'd want that...? Franke is equally insistent that he's not crazy--but submitting to such a review by the SS is a very iffy prospect, it's all too easy to be declared mentally incompetent--and possibly end up in a camp. Not only that, but even if he passes the review, he almost certainly won't regain his position as commandant. Franke wonders what is the point, then. The SS-TV official is sympathetic but explains that his chances of maintaining his current status in the SS-Totenkopfverbände are practically nil; given his actions toward his fellow guard, without a medical review, he's likely to face punishment. There's literally no way to win, aside from quitting the SS-TV entirely.

Franke nearly loses it at that, throwing up his hands in despair--the SS is all he knows and cares about, what is he supposed to do without it? The official pauses before offering a tentative suggestion...just because he's no longer fit to serve in a position of authority in the camps doesn't mean he has to leave the SS itself. He can merely move sideways...into another branch of the SS. The SS-TV is closely affiliated with the Waffen-SS, he explains; Franke can request a transfer there, into a combat unit. Franke's first reaction is to be aghast--"Fight in the war??" he exclaims; then, "Fight in the war," he says, more subdued, suddenly thinking it over. The official notices his reaction and runs with it: "What better way to work that aggression out of your system, ja, Kamerad--? Kill some communists in service to the Fatherland? We always need fresh troops, well, here's your chance to serve, and keep serving. You'll need a bit more training but other than that you should get in easy, you've already passed all the other requirements." "But I've never been on the front before," Franke protests once more; killing communists sounds appealing--being killed by communists, not so much. Yet the official has a ready answer for that, too: "Kamerad, you must have known this was always a possibility anyway!"--which is true, the Waffen-SS often trades out its wounded troops for healthy SS-TV camp guards. Franke finally decides: He'll transfer into the Waffen-SS and continue his SS career.

He finds out only belatedly that this also entails him accepting a strict demotion, from major to master sergeant. This steams him immensely yet he's forced to accept it, and after the requisite training is accepted into a panzer unit. He's not much of a team player--he'd far rather be in an infantry unit, not in such uncomfortably close quarters with a bunch of other guys--yet aside from that he does relatively well. He often "snaps" and starts raging and screaming whenever he has to plow through something or blow something up, leading to his fellows sometimes referring to him as "Der Berserker"; they've heard the rumors about his dismissal from camp, and are pretty sure he's a little loose in the head, but they shrug it off, such things are par for the course here. It's not the path Franke would've chosen but he fits in it okay.

His new comrades express a bit of concern, though, that sometime he might snap for good, right in the middle of a battle, and that wouldn't be helpful. They invite him out for some entertainment and unwinding. I'm not sure if you've picked up on this but Franke's pretty tightly wound, stiff and formal and a stickler for rules (the main reason he admires the anal-retentive SS); he's rather leery of "entertainment." He accompanies his fellow unit members to a temporary venue that's been set up in a large tent. As soon as the music starts playing, Franke stiffens and realizes he made a mistake coming here--he's been taught to recognize degenerate art, and he knows burlesque music when he hears it. "This is your idea of 'unwinding'?--I should report you right now!" he practically yells at the guy beside him, and pops to his feet, insulted beyond measure to even be here--when the curtains open and the first performer saunters onto the stage. All the angry words die in Franke's throat and his eyes go wide. The busty, statuesque woman who's just stepped out--garish lipstick and rouge and eyeshadow, a bustier it's a wonder she can even breathe in, stockings adorning legs that seem to go on forever, and high heels that could probably kill a man--all the things the Nazi Party despises--is the most astonishingly gorgeous woman he's ever seen.

His companion smirks a bit and elbows him when he slowly sits back down and watches the rest of the show, mesmerized--"Still hate the thought of 'unwinding,' Kamerad...?" he joshes, but Franke is too awed by this utter vision of beauty to even care anymore. He's always followed the party rules and standards, he always figured someday he'd settle down with a nice plain plump Fräulein who'd give him a decent brood of babies, yet those thoughts have evaporated--he realizes that THIS is what he really wants, and he won't be able to settle for anything else. After the show, when everyone's getting ready to return to their units, he starts trying to find a way backstage to talk with the first performer. His companion, learning this, furrows his brow as if this is the weirdest idea ever, then looks vaguely uneasy. "Kamerad, are you sure of this?" he asks; then, when Franke says he is, he grows even more consternated, even grasping Franke's arm: "Kamerad--think a minute." Then, hesitantly--"You do know what she is, ja...?"

Franke shrugs himself loose--"I know what she is! Let me be, I can make up my own mind," he snaps, assuming his companion is shaming her for her career choice. He finally reaches the backstage area where a bouncer-type attempts to stop him, yet the burlesque performer catches sight of him and says to let him in. "I always appreciate a fighting man!" she coos as Franke meekly approaches, and offers him an ear-to-ear smile that makes his heart flutter. "I've never seen you here before, this is your first time...?" The two of them chat briefly, she doing most of the talking since Franke can't find the words; this mystifies him, since he's never been shy about speaking his mind before, yet the most he can offer is awkward stammers. He's disappointed when a worker informs him they have to close up, but the performer just smiles again and, after learning his unit is to head out again soon, suggests he stop by the next night; if he wishes, she can give him a nice sendoff. Franke nearly swallows his tongue at that, and has to quickly leave, though he can hardly believe his luck.

He gets a few odd looks from his comrades when he goes backstage again the next night, this time with a gift: A box of sweets, expensive and hard to find due to wartime rations. He's anxious that she'll find it silly or frivolous since he has no idea what kind of gift a woman like her would want, but she accepts it, exclaiming, "What Fräulein doesn't like sweets?" Franke finds his tongue not quite so tied up this time around, and again they chat a bit; again the worker arrives after a while to shoo him off, but this time, the performer holds up a gloved hand.

Burlesque performer: "Let us be a moment, bitte...?" *worker leaves* *turning to Franke* "Your unit's heading out tomorrow, ja...? Probably will be a while before you catch another rest...?"

Franke: "Ja."

Performer: *tracing a finger over his collar tab* "Going to defend the Fatherland from those horrid communists?"

Franke: "H-hopefully."

Performer: *scoots close* *voice lowered* "Remember when I told you I could give you a nice sending off...?"

Franke: *nervously* "Mm...mm-hm."

Performer: "You do know what I mean by a sendoff, ja...?"

Franke: "I...I hope so."

Performer: *smiles wider & plays with his buttons* "Mm, I can tell you know exactly what I mean." *leans close to whisper* "I have to tell you something, though, since you're new here, just so there's no misunderstanding. My feelings won't be hurt, Liebe, if you change your mind about me sending you off nicely."

Franke: "I won't--I won't change my mind. You're...you're a very lovely woman."

Performer: "You do understand what I do for a living, ja, Liebe...?"

Franke: "Burlesque."

Performer: *brief pause* "Drag burlesque." *long pause; Franke just stares* "You...do know what drag means, ja...?"

Franke: *silence*

Performer: "Just to be sure, Liebe...it means I'm really--"

Franke: *quickly puts his hand out to cover her mouth; she stops speaking* *urgently* "Bitte..." *swallows* "I...I already know. Just...I'd...I'd really prefer if...if you could pretend...you're really a woman...?"

Franke feels utter dread and humiliation just having to say this--not just because of the obvious, the real reason his comrades kept giving him the side-eye--but because his request seems horribly rude, plus he may have just scuttled his evening's plans. There's a painfully awkward pause that feels like it goes on forever yet is surely just a few seconds; then the performer again offers that indulgent smile that makes his heart thud hard. "Liebe," she purrs, "I can pretend to be whatever you want me to be."

Franke's unit heads out the next morning; his fellows who saw him go backstage notice his normally peevish, irritable attitude has rather improved, and when they later on get involved in a fight, he's exceptionally enthusiastic about it, screaming bloody murder as he blows stuff up. He'd told the burlesque performer his nickname, Der Berserker, and she'd had good reason to use it.

This becomes Franke's habit, the motivation he'd been missing in his life. Every time his unit goes on leave he seeks out the nearest entertainment, picks a favorite from among the drag performers, makes his way into "her" good graces by lavishing her with gifts--candies, flowers, jewelry, or anything else she expresses a fondness for--and passes a pleasant night or two in her company. His fellow unit members catch on pretty fast about what exactly is going on, and always wag their eyebrows at each other or even snicker a little and make lewd gestures and whispered jokes ("Which one of them is der Mann and which is die Frau, do you think?")...yet despite the blatant violation of SS rules, they never bother reporting him. It's near the front, rules are bent or broken here all the time (Franke is hardly the first to engage in such behavior), there are bigger things to worry about than who's schtupping whom. As long as he's good at killing Soviets, and is at least moderately discreet, they really don't care what he does in his free time.

And Franke is definitely discreet in that his particular hangup is that he invariably requests his romantic partners pretend they are biological women, because otherwise, it's just too repulsive and shameful for him to think about. Franke isn't eine Schwuchtel, he doesn't like men, that's just perverted and disgusting (in the SS's opinion, which is also his opinion) and anyone who suggests as much will get his fist in their face. His comrades very quickly catch on to this and never bring it up--they've seen how he gets when sufficiently infuriated, and don't want to be on the receiving end of that. So, such goes Franke's second life: Demoted, transferred to a panzer company, sent to fight on the front, passing his days killing Russians and his nights in the company of pretty drag queens. It isn't what he once envisioned his SS career to be--a cushy camp commandant position, a plain plump traditional wife, a litter of good little Aryan kids--but it could definitely be worse. And at least he doesn't have to deal with Dannecker and his pet projects anymore.

Franke's final arc in the story is still heavily under development. I do know that the second phase of Projekt Weltuntergang, the Nazis' experimental program for creating an Aryan supersoldier, moves on from prisoners to German citizens, and the new Projekt Ultima Thule makes use of several of the more elite Waffen-SS units, including Franke's. (I think he's in the same unit as another character who's so far going to remain nameless as a relatively minor character--should I ever get around to posting him on Toyhou.se he'll be "Unnamed SS Panzer Commander" or whatever fits--anyway, I've mentioned this guy briefly before, he's the (likely meth-fueled) guy who regularly gets into foul-mouthed shouting matches with Master Sergeant Schulte whenever they run into each other, then they amicably trade cigarettes and chocolate and whatnot before parting ways.) Although they're voluntarily recruited for the project, they aren't told the ENTIRE truth about what they're getting involved in. The experimental serum, which near the war's end has at last successfully been modified enough to work on all blood types regardless of mutation, is described to the Waffen-SS members as merely something similar to the Pervitin many of them already take. (I'm not sure if Franke uses meth or not; I don't think he does, as he's rather a purist type, though perhaps that's just early on and eventually as the job wears on him he might start taking it, however never to the point he becomes a hopeless addict like Klemper.) They aren't aware, and are deliberately not told, that it's not simply a mood-boosting drug but a highly experimental concoction that alters their physical makeup and whose efficacy and safety are still quite conjectural. (Well...not TOO different from Pervitin, maybe?) Basically they're human guinea pigs, not far removed from the Jews and "mental defectives" the original serum was tested on. They might perhaps have not been so willing to go along had they known this, yet it's late in the war, Germany is beginning to lose the fight, and they desperately need something far stronger than methamphetamine to keep them going. SS officials (and the Wehrmacht as well) decide it's prudent to shield their fighting men from the truth. It can't hurt them...too much.

Franke, unnamed guy, and their fellows are filled in on the situation by a character I've since tentatively decided, despite their previous background/uninvolved status, is actually a very much involved party in all this (there'll be more in that character's upcoming entry); it's a confusing, hazy situation, but this person is such a motivated speaker, and the battle has become so dire, that they hang on every word and immediately after pledge their loyalty to the new project, unaware of its relation to the old. Whatever it takes to save the faltering Reich from the threat of the Red Army. Franke and the others end up going to the Alpine Fortress and make a surprise appearance in the final story; it's possible they're not even aware that by then the Third Reich has already long fallen and they're fighting in a war that ended a year or so previously. An equally perplexed Lt. Hesse, of the Allgemeine-SS, shows up in the Fortress as well, along with Wehrmacht private Konrad Helmstadt; both had been killed in the previous story, then secretly revived with the serum, which has more than one use. While Hesse, who had been questioning his SS loyalties and planning to quit the organization before abruptly deciding to aid the resistance-allied Dobermann family in their escape (a decision that cost him his life), turns on the Reich yet again, Helmstadt remains loyal, and so do the Waffen-SS members; Hesse and the remaining Allies are pitted against them in the last story, and it's quite a jarring situation for everyone involved.

Like I said, this story arc is still being ironed out; although it's certain that Franke and the rest don't survive the final showdown, the specific details of what role they play, and what exactly happens to them, need to be figured out. That's for another day.

[Lars Franke 2023 [‎Friday, ‎June ‎23, ‎2023, ‏‎4:00:15 A3M]]

[Lars Franke 2023 2 [‎Friday, ‎June ‎23, ‎2023, ‏‎4:00:26 AM]]

[Lars Franke 2023 3 [‎Friday, ‎June ‎23, ‎2023, ‏‎4:00:36 AM]]

[Lars Franke 2023 4 [‎Friday, ‎June ‎23, ‎2023, ‏‎4:00:47 AM]]

[dullahandyke]

If someone was to mayhaps want to draw one of your OCs do you have any drawings of them or any more information about the kind of clothes they wear?

ANON ILL KISS UUU um I have a couple drawings but they're old, let me grab them n also describe more accurately their appearances....

Ok as for the drawings please ignore the copious style shifts and bear in mind that most of these cunts r like OLD old. Like 'drew her on the open night for the secondary school I have since graduated from', 'ex-danganronpa oc' old. And that's not as much to do w how recent the drawings are bcos most of them are like 2 years old or so but like. I keep trying to keep certain aspects of their designs and it shows. ANYWAY heres some Ames designs that can get smushed into one

Ames Spector

Stocky build, on the short side

Filipina

Black hair, the middle picture is pretty much it, tho I'm still attached to her with a ponytail if u wanted to go for that

Black button-up with the sleeves rolled up

Yellow tie with a star-shaped tie pin (listen she's had a star pin for 6 years and even if it's not a hairpin anymore it's still hers)

See I really do like the vibe of the blazer tied around the waist ala picture 1 but I couldnt make it work colour-balance-wise so I ended up just making her slacks yellow. If u think u could make it work then go for it my guy

Sturdy black boots

Eyebrow piercing on her right

See I did vibe w her having a tattoo but I dont think the snake suits her... omit it or freehand it as u like

Ringo Fleming

I'm not entirely happy with the balance of the outfit but it's a good idea of its style (which is 'was born sad and alone in a Claire's)

I think I put his cane on the right side? It's his right leg that he needs it for

It has hearing aids that it definitely dangles earrings off of

Snake bites

Pink dyed hair with some sort of undercut

Oh yeah hes noticeably tall. I'm not good w heights but like 6'6 even without his penchant for platform boots

Large nose

Very reedy build

White

Thea del Arte

Heavily based on Arlecchino (predecessor to the harlequin, from Italian renaissance-era theatre) with the right picture as my heaviest inspiration

Fat

Hes pretending to be Italian bcos it's better for PR but hes actually Catalan

Tan skin

Dimples

Short curly dark brown hair

Black mask is more masquerade or superhero than arlecchino, it emotes when she has it on, you know the drill

Wears reading glasses over his mask in his 'reading documents' animation

Neck ruff

In the drawing I have her down as wearing shorts but tbh I think she'd cover as much of herself as she could for the intrigue

White gloves

Black lipstick

Shirley Fortunis

See I like her current design but it doesnt feel very ace attorney to me. Trying to incorporate a dice/coin/luck motif.

Black

Long black locs with silver jewelry

Acne

Big purple cardigan somewhere in her design

Officewear under the cardigan

Maybe a trench coat of some description over the cardigan to make it feel more detectivey? Idk spitballing

Maybe a coin necklace?

Miren Diez

And now we get into the area of 'all my drawings for this one are so old theyd do more harm than good'

Sickly pale and visibly malnourished

Long dark brown hair, untrimmed beard

Bcos of spirit medium shenanigans I dont think they have much in the way of their own clothes tbh. Mostly its theas clothes that they're left in once they stop channelling her.

If they are wearing their own clothes, probably just a very oversized steel samurai sleep shirt and sweatpants that used to fit but Uh Oh Drastic Weight Loss

Septum piercing

Raph Porter

Tbh I dont have much for them

Light hair in a ponytail

Brown reporter-type hat

White button-up, brown slacks, brown suspenders, brown tie

Brings an entire typewriter into court

Btw this isnt a design thing but like u gotta know that she is just WAITING to be revealed as the big bad so at all times she is wearing an evil outfit under her normal one. It is not at all visible in her normal outfit that's just a fun little fact for u

Generically pretty

The judge

Does not look like the judge from ace attorney

Has robes

Has at least one hand

Has a mouth(?)

Skin is a maybe

[mlp-ask-blog-doodle]

mlp redesigns are popular on tiktok again and since my kid went back to school i had some free time and decided to fix and alter some things that i would have liked to see in the show Some redesigns are so wild it's basically a new OC in place of the old character. I rly did like the designs and back stories for g4, a lot of it makes sense. This was basically an au? Minor differences

Twilight: I know why they didn’t give her this style and instead gave it to her mom, since they lost the rights to the original twilight, but her hair she got was so dumb. i dont like most of the hair in the show tbh, so she gets her curly hair back. and just changing one color made her entire pallet less dark. it also bothered me that alicorns were now some mythical special magic thing? that completely omitted an earth pony from ever achieving? nah, born an alicorn and still has to learn friendship. Lets be real, her magical girl transformation to alicorn did nothing; shes the same character whos still bumbling along figuring out how to be a friend. she could have been an alicorn the entire time and it wouldnt have changed anything. Fluttershy: i loved that they made her an omage to Posey, but they also then gave her parents that look nothing like her... theres a happy middle ground somewhere. its also weird that she was a pegasus with an earth pony skill set and sucked at flying? shes a unicorn now, make Posey her mom.

Rarity: I want her to look somewhat related to her family? she doesnt have to look completely different to have her talent. so i made her look a little more like Sweetybelle, and i liked the idea of her having the single pink streak in her hair and treating it like a grey streak and having her style around it. I also hated how many episodes were dedicated to how useless of a unicorn she was because of her talent? absolutely hated that and people still say it evne though she proved that wasnt the case over and over. so now shes just an earth pony. I dont think she needed he magic basically ever.

Rainbowdash: I thought about making her pink instead of blue to reference FireFly who shes based off of, but honestly no, i love her design, i just hate that she still has long hair when it creates drag and her goal is to be the fastest so she can be a wonder bolt? doesnt make sense. Normalize short haired girls. Also they really easily could have made her a trans girl and it wouldnt have been a stretch at all. The pegasus thing made sense for the show, but i find it really odd that the ONLY time disabilities are mentioned in this gen was in movies that were considered non-canon to the time line. so disabled and unbothered by it. AppleJack: Same qualm with the hair being long when it works against their skill set and jobs. Give her the G1 bob back, her and spike are the only ones they kept rights to and still gave her dumb hair to make her more girly. Also, they made a big deal about her being related to appleoosa ponies but didnt make her look like it, so i gave her the appaloosa butt and freckles. Also her g1 butt bow to tie up her tail. that i feel like could be kept long (to swat flies) and make sense and she could just wrap it in a bun for work. I know her hat was important, i just forgot to draw it. 

PinkiePie: I wish they had kept her a pegasus, it would have made sense. and again with the family not even remotely matching her, i wish they had added in grandma surprise and had an episode about how the rock family is the odd ball out in her family tree not just her. Also she absolutely would over accessorize, you know she would jingle when she walked! ill die on this hill. also i thin, she would use hoof polish like Rarity

[jimlingss]

Black Waltz [1/2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 [Finale]

➜ Words: 13.2k

➜ Genres: 70% Fluff, 30% Angst, Butler!AU

➜ Summary: When your parents pass away in an accident, a family secret is revealed. The only person you can trust and rely on is your personal butler, Kim Taehyung.

The caskets are small.   You’re not sure why but you always imagined that they’d be bigger. The undertaker already reassured you thrice that the bodies of your parents fit perfectly. Perhaps they were always that small.   “Poor girl.” Someone murmurs in the corner, not realizing that you can hear above the discordant sobs. “She’s already such a weak child. How will she handle this?”   “How do you suppose?” a man replies in a sharp mutter. “She’s just become one of the richest people in Trulia overnight. Look at this entire estate. All thanks to her father’s watch business.”   “Will you have more delicacy?” she bites back in a whisper. “A man and woman just died.”   You don’t bother looking at them. You don't cry either.    Not a single tear sheds down your cheeks as you look through your netted veil to the closed coffins belonging to your parents. Even the gardener is sobbing into his hat, but you don’t.    Your expression remains stoic.   A man approaches, dark hair and darker suit. He bows his head towards the caskets and then turns to you standing by. You recognize him the few times you saw him in passing. He’s your father’s worker, Yoongi. “My condolences, Miss Y/N.”   “Thank you.”   “Your father was a great man. It was a privilege to work under his guidance. I’m sorry this happened.”   You nod and he takes that you don’t want to extend the conversation and leaves you be.    It was an unfortunate accident. More specifically, a railroad accident. It claimed the lives of many and that also included your parents coming home from a trip to Germany.   “Eugene!” Suddenly, Uncle Seokjin throws himself over the casket. A few distraught folks try to pull him back, but he continues to howl, “How could you leave your only brother like this!”    Aunt Marie cries louder into her handkerchief.   It’s noisy.   In the midst of the ruckus, the corner of your eye catches an older man with brunette hair. The wrinkles crease around his eyes with his sorrowful expression and he takes off his top hat as he approaches. You watch as he places a rose in front of your mother’s casket and then he turns to leave without addressing you.   “Oh, Y/N!” Your attention is ripped away by your hysterically sobbing uncle grabbing your hands. “Poor Y/N!”   Someone takes him away before you get the chance to shove him off.   //   Everyone gathers in the dining room not even a full day after the funeral.   The wallpaper is dark, black trim that matches the hardwood. The long table is mahogany and there’s an unnecessary golden chandelier hanging from the ceiling. You’ve always hated this room and its decorations, especially the heavy curtains that block out the sunlight.   “Y/N!” Your uncle draws out your name and smiles widely as he comes before you with open arms. He gives you a quick squeeze much to your dismay and then lets go. The middle-aged man searches your expression. “My favourite niece.”   “I’m your only niece.”   “Which makes you even more special to me.” His words are sweet. He shakes his head. “What did you ever do to deserve this?”   You wonder the same thing.   Aunt Marie clears her throat and Uncle Seokjin flounders. “Right, right, we should take our seats.”   Your eyes lift to your cousin who smiles at you, dressed in a navy frock coat with an ascot tie. “It’s been a while, Y/N. I didn’t think you’d notice but I was greeting guests at the funer—”   “I noticed.”   You cut Hoseok off mid-sentence with his mouth still open. Aunt Marie chastised him under her breath to sit down and at the same time, the family lawyer enters with his briefcase. He’s been working with your family before you were even born. You could feel his sincerity when he spoke at the memorial.   “Good evening everyone. Y/N.” Mr. Kim — Namjoon as your parents familiarly called him — nods at you in sympathetic acknowledgment and takes his place at the head of the table where your father once sat. He reaches for his briefcase and opens it up for a sealed envelope inside. “I never thought there would be a day like this. Most unfortunate indeed.”   “A heartbreaking tragedy,” Aunt Marie agrees.   “But no time like the present for us to fulfill their last wishes.” Mr. Kim slips out the crisp papers and then his eyes flicker up at you. You subtly motion to him that you’re ready for it to be read and he clears his throat.   Your relatives are sitting on the edge of the seats, hands clasped on the table in anticipation.   “I, Arden Eugene, resident in the City of Lennox, Country of Trulia, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and Testament, hereby revoking all prior wills and codicils made by me. I appoint my wife, Arden Hana, to inherit all my assets.”   The lawyer continues, “In the event where my wife is unable to inherit...all my assets, including the investments, savings and the estate, liquid and otherwise, I leave my daughter, Arden Y/N, in their entirety.”   Your aunt’s jaw ticks, your uncle has a face of disgust and your cousin’s jaw has dropped.   You’re not sure why they’re so offended. It’s not a surprise. This is what you expected.   That is until Mr. Kim adds the word— “temporarily.”   Your head turns. The lawyer’s mouth continues to move.   “Until the date and time when her half-sibling will be found.”    You’re not sure what happens first. The gasps echoing in your ears, Aunt Marie nearly falling off her seat in laughter, your uncle standing up from his spot, or your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as blood drains from your face. You feel ill, like you might throw up right on the table.   A half-sibling. Another child. There was another child all along.    “—to which ownership of all asserts will thereby be shifted onto them.”   “What is the meaning of this?!” Uncle Seokjin protests. “What child?!”   “I’m sorry, Mr. Arden. I only know as much as you do.” Mr. Kim’s eyes place on you before he resumes reading. “I give my daughter, Arden Y/N, a pocket watch.”   The amused snicker of your aunt is all too clear.   A small box is placed in front of you. It’s the size of your hand, a deep wine red. For a moment, you want to huck it on the floor, but with your breath held in your throat, you nudge the lid open. It’s a perfectly round contraption, the cover golden and perfectly polished, reflecting against the candlelight. You flip it open to find handles ticking away as seconds and minutes pass.   “To my brother, Seokjin, my sister, Marie, and her son, Hoseok, I wish them the very best in the rest of their lives.”   Aunt Marie scoffs. Uncle Seokjin collapses back onto his seat.   The will is finished being read and the paper is folded. The room is full of a tense silence as you stare at the watch. Mr. Kim clears his throat again. “As you are aware of the laws, Y/N, all assets are entitled to you temporarily. But as you have no husband to collect the inheritance, it makes things a bit more complicated. You may still live at this estate and continue the company, but you cannot alter it in any way. That includes liquidating, removing, expanding, or withdrawing. You do not have the jurisdiction to alter the company or any of the investments either.”   Everything is essentially frozen. They left you with nothing.   “Yes.” The corner of Aunt Marie’s lip curls and she sits back. “Even if you are twenty one, you need a husband to own land and wealth. Trulia’s quite old-fashioned, isn’t it?”   Trulia — a small country that bridges France and England together, cutting the English channel into half. You’ve lived here all your life, born and raised, and never hated it more.   “Y/N.” Hoseok breaks your train of thought and you look him in the eyes. Your expression remains impassive. “Did you know you had a sibling?”   You hate it all.   //   The bedroom is shrouded in darkness as you sit back in the armchair.    You’re loosely holding the cold, golden chain of the pocket watch, studying it as it swings back and forth. It’s like a clam, but without any engravings, designs or even ridges on the surface. It’s heavy, perfectly new and polished, the time precise. When both handles of the pocket watch come to twelve, the grandfather clock from downstairs chimes throughout the mansion.   Your other hand crumples into a fist and with a strangled cry in your throat, you hurl the pocket watch across the room with all your might. It clatters to the ground, ear-splitting.   A figure emerges from the shadows, leans down and picks it up with his white gloves.   “Madam, are you not well?”   “Don’t call me madam,” you snap at him.   Taehyung comes closer, his dark hair slicked back, dressed in the usual black tailcoat and trousers. His smile is tender. “You are the head of the household now.”   Arm propped up on the armrest, you press your hand to your forehead. “It makes me feel old.”   “Then I won’t, my lady. I apologize.” He places the pocket watch on the vanity table and comes to your side.   You look up at him, wondering if you look as bitter as you feel. “Even when they’re dead, they have to have the last laugh, Taehyung. They spared me nothing.” Your eyes sting painfully, the lump at the bottom of your throat aching. Anger has coloured your vision red. You’re so full of hate, but you wonder why most of all, it hurts. “I can’t believe my parents didn’t love me even after their death.”   Taehyung kneels and takes your hands that are crumpled hard enough that your nails sink into your skin. He earnestly gazes at you. “You have me. I’ll be with you until the end.”   He promises it rather recklessly. But he’s more than just your butler. More than just a worker in this house. He’s been a friend since childhood. The only one you can fully trust.   Taehyung’s expression softens even more and he reaches out. He hugs you, propping your chin on his shoulder, placing his arms around your back. “You can cry.”   You scoff. “You’re stepping over the line.”   “Then discipline me.”   You bite the inside of your cheek, vision becomes foggy as tears hang onto your lash line. “Why should I cry for those people? If...if anything, I should cry for my own circumstances.”   Taehyung smiles. “Cry then.”   For the first time, you let go. You sob into his shoulder, grasp his coat with tight fingers, allowing yourself to be at grief’s mercy. Wails choke out of your chest and the thick lump finally escapes your throat, leaving it raw and aching in a different way. The tears stain a path down from your welling eyes to your cheeks and then Taehyung’s shoulder like a chilling rainstorm.   It feels like minutes tick away until you’ve cried yourself to exhaustion.   By then, you’re so weak and you can barely open your swollen eyes. But Taehyung guides you to bed and pulls the covers. He tucks you in, making sure you’re warm. “Get some sleep.”   You nod and he extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp.    Sleep comes easier than you expect.   //   When dawn arrives, the light of the sun comes through the white curtains to cast against your eyes. You stir uncomfortably before your lids flutter open. The world is bleary in your fogged vision and your body is heavy. You don’t want to get up, but you have to.   “Good morning, mistress.” Taehyung enters, dressed in his black trousers and tailcoat with a white waistcoat underneath. His hair is pushed back in a windswept look. He sets down the golden tray balancing a water bowl and cloth. “Glad to see you’re already awake.”   “Couldn’t sleep more if I wanted to.” You round the bed and collect the water to wash your face before pressing the cloth to your skin.   Taehyung steps towards your wardrobe. “Would you like me to replace the curtains?”   “It’s fine. I don’t want to wear anything too restricting today.”   He hums. “Then will an aesthetic dress do? Green?”   “Is there a dark blue?”    Taehyung swiftly takes out a simple gown, cut loosely with a few frills at the neckline and a red, ribbon sash around the waist. The shade is a midnight blue and perfectly to your tastes as if he read your mind. It’s without any restrictive corset too. Heaven knows today is going to be suffocating enough, you don’t need to make it more difficult for yourself.   You stand in front of the three panel mirror folded into a nook and lift your arms up. Without batting a single lash or looking twice, Taehyung undresses you from the silk sleepwear and helps you into the camisole before draping the dress over your figure.   You sit at the vanity and he gently brushes out your hair. “Taehyung.”   “Yes, my lady?”   You look at him through the mirror. “Do you think I can do this?”   His eyes flicker up and he smiles. “Of course you can.”   “What if they don’t find me intimidating enough?”   “Then I’ll stand beside you and help you with that.”   What he says has you bursting out in laughter. You spin around in your seat, and Taehyung’s completely unsuspecting when you squeeze his cheeks together. His rounded eyes blink and his lips mimic a fish’s. It makes you grin. “You’re more of a puppy than a guard dog.”   But well, you suppose it’s not important what the truth is. The illusion is what matters most.   He pins half of your hair up and you barely powder your face before you’re leaving for the family meeting. On the way, you brace yourself, only temporarily interrupted by the gardener, Park Jimin, a man who’s been working on the estate for the past three years. He takes care of the garden well, better than your mother ever could. Her roses always withered. He, on the other hand, has quite the green thumb.   “Good morning, madam.” Jimin greets you merrily.   “Good morning, Jimin.” You slow in the entrance hall and Taehyung behind you does as well. “I hope you and the others are doing well. Thank you for still being here.”   The young male blushes. “We’re just doing our jobs, ma’am. You already gave us a whole week’s break which we’re more than thankful for. We just had to come back for the funeral to honour Mr. and Mrs. Arden. So there’s no need to worry about us.”   “I’m glad then.” Your smile eases. “Please continue, don’t let me stop you.”   He nods and goes on his way.   The moment Jimin’s gone, your expression hardens as you enter the main lounge area.   There your uncle, aunt, and cousin are seated around and you recognize your father’s worker, Yoongi as well. You’re not sure since when this house became a guest home where anyone can enter and loiter in as they please. You’ll have to have a word with Taehyung later.    “Y/N! My dear niece!” Uncle Seokjin’s loud and he stands from the armchair with an enormous smile that looks like it’s about to break his face. At that, everyone’s head swivels around.    Yoongi slowly rises from his seat as well.    But your uncle continues, “I hope you had a good sleep. I could barely get a wink thinking about your father and our happy days. Speaking of which, I was thinking about how empty this house will be with your parents gone. Isn’t it time for you to get married? You’ve been of age for a while. I happen to know this very kind young man from England. His name is Mark. I’d be happy to introduce—”   “Uncle Seokjin.” You stop him. “I’d rather not have you speak about my private affairs in front of a stranger.”   His pupils flicker to Yoongi and his mouth closes with a smile. “Right.”   You turn to said man and he nods his head in acknowledgment. “Would you like to have tea in the parlor?”   “No, this will only take a moment. I’m sure you’re already busy. My apologies for coming unannounced.”   “It’s not a problem. What is this about?”   “Your father’s company,” Yoongi says. “There is a client waiting for a shipment and since we closed we’ve been unable to finish the order. Would you like to refuse it?”   “No. It’s fine.” You hold in your sigh and press your finger against your forehead for a moment. Then, you come to a decision. “You may continue and run business as usual. You may act as the temporary lead, Min Yoongi.”   At the announcement, Hoseok rushes upwards with his jaw gone slack. “I could!” Heads turn towards him. “I-If you need me to! I could take over! T-Temporarily, of course!”   Your eyes narrow into your cousin, your expression cold. “There’s no need, Hoseok. I’m sure Mr. Min here will already have his hands full. There'll be no time to properly train you and no way you could take over.”   “But—!”   You ignore him to address your father’s right hand. You’re not sure if this is the right decision, but Yoongi comes across as sensible and rational. He doesn’t seem to have any malicious intention or ulterior motives either. At least your father trusted him, so you will too. “I’ll take a look at the finances and figure out the details soon enough of where the company will move forward from now on. But for now, I will entrust you to it. Please proceed as you normally would.”   Yoongi nods. “Thank you, Miss Y/N.”   You shift on your feet and look to your butler whose height towers your own. “Taehyung, can you please see Mr. Min out?”   He puts his gloved hand over his heart and bows. “Certainly.”   The two men leave the room while your cousin crosses his arms and drops back down into the sofa with a displeased face.   Aunt Marie’s eyes are narrowed in on you and she sighs, shaking her head. She comments, “You’re quite close with that butler of yours, Y/N. A bit too close, if you ask me.”   Your brow cocks. “You don’t have any authority in this household to make such comments, Aunt Marie.”   “I am merely looking out for you, Y/N,” she quips with an underlying sharpness to it. “You never know what rumours can get out and they can get quite nasty. It wouldn’t do you any good to be in a scandal. It’s best if you weren’t so close to the such lowly—”   “I choose who I want to affiliate myself with.” Your voice booms throughout the room, unknowing to how Taehyung’s already returned and that he’s standing just outside of the room. “Taehyung is my most trusted confidant. To insult my personal aid is to insult my choices and thereby, me. From now on, I will not take such things lightly.”   Aunt Marie shuffles back with a cough and the room’s swept into an uncomfortable silence.   Taehyung smiles to himself and notices a timid maid rolling a cart down the hall towards the room. He takes over and dismisses her to which she’s grateful for, knowing the room is tense. But Taehyung is unaffected as he enters with an exaggeratedly cordial expression. He places down a cake stand of pastries on the table, then the teacups.   “There, there. Let’s not get so upset in the morning.” Your uncle sits down and you find your place in front of the fireplace and the imposing family portrait above the mantle. In the meanwhile, Taehyung pours the tea with one hand in front of him. It’s earl grey, your favourite.   You sip it warmly while your expression remains stoic.   Uncle Seokjin clears his throat. “Your cousin, aunt and I have been discussing, Y/N—”   “And?”   He smiles. “We think it’s best if we...join forces.”   The tea is no longer pleasant on your palate, so you set it down on the porcelain saucer. “How so?”   “Well….”   “We don’t know who this half sibling of yours is, Y/N,” your aunt cuts to the chase. “Who knows who they could be or what they would want with us! It is simply outrageous that an outsider could come and collect everything that your parents have worked so hard for and take everything away. Your father clearly had some misunderstandings when he gave us nothing and you so little. I believe he must not have been well when he wrote that will. There must be some mistake.”   Uncle Seokjin nods and Hoseok finds the opportunity to jump in. “I have a friend who’s working in law. There must be ways we can challenge the will or at least find a way to claim back what should be rightfully ours!”   ‘Rightfully ours’.   You want to laugh. “So you want to sneak the money away?”   “You shouldn’t put it that way.” Your uncle laughs heartily. “It’s more like making a wrong a right!”   “Yes!” Hoseok enthusiastically nods. “We can’t just let someone else steal it, Y/N! What if tomorrow someone comes knocking on the door claiming to be your brother or sister, and they want to take everything away?”   Aunt Marie offers a smile. “It’s best if we work together on this matter.”    Taehyung steps behind you, shadowing your form as your relatives look at you expectedly. They have a point, but you’re not at all tempted by their most generous offer. “No.”   “Pardon?”   “I said no.” Your arms cross and you sit back. “Everything is already in my name, the estate, the investments, the company, albeit temporarily, but I’ll figure out what is to come on my own.”   Hoseok’s mouth draws open. Your uncle is unable to muster a rebuttal.    You scoff, rolling your eyes as if their very proposition is ridiculous. It’s too easy to play the villain — and it’s the only way you know how to protect yourself. “And why should I have to accept your help and have to split up my parents’ wealth when I can take it all for myself.”   “Why you!” Aunt Marie stands up, face reddened. “Ingrate!”   Her hand raises, arm extending back. But before she can slap you like she wants and knock your head to the side, Taehyung snatches her wrist. He’s faster than anyone can blink and he clutches her back, glare boring into her skin.   Her teeth grit and she rips back her hand to her chest.   You rise to your feet, eyes placed at the god awful antique cabinet on the other side of the room. “If that’s all everyone wants to say, then you can leave now. Thank you for coming to the funeral but from now on, none of you have permission to enter this estate until I announce otherwise.”   Your aunt scoffs and with her remaining pride, she stomps out. Hoseok’s brows are knitted together at a loss while your uncle is already trying to reason with you. But you leave through the doorway and allow Taehyung to take care of the rest.   //   The streets are full in the afternoon bustle — hooves clacking as horses pull the street car, ladies with parasols giggling as they cross, shouting coming from the tenement windows above, wheels of the carriages rolling along the dirt. It’s the symphony of the city. But he leaves it all behind for a short carriage ride away.   It’s a short uphill climb on foot that follows, but he swiftly gets to the magnificent mansion on a stretch of green behind black gates. It’s quaint here.   A girl in a maid ensemble scurries over and opens up the gates for him. “Right this way.”   The man is led up the path and he removes his top hat as he enters.   The manor is darker on the inside, the wallpaper a deep shade, black trim matching the hardwood. He knows every inch of this place is ridden with wealth, from the chandeliers, the ornate carpet underneath his feet to the glass cabinets full of antiques. It’s old money that will last for centuries.   But he doesn’t get to admire it for too long. A taller man with slicked back hair wearing a black tailcoat approaches. “If you’d follow me, sir.”   He nods and silently shadows the butler to the west wing. They twist down the corridor before turning a left to two large doors. The butler opens them and he hesitantly enters after.   There’s a figure behind the desk at the very back wall, an inked pen in her hand. He muses that the lady looks much too young to be residing so deep inside of this mansion surrounded in papers in the low lighting. She might be even younger than himself.   “Taehyung, stay.” You mutter out of the corner of your mouth before he can leave.   The doors shut and you finally look up as Taehyung takes his place beside you.   “You are Detective Jeon?”   He has brunette hair and brightened doe eyes, rather boyish looks overall. But you know better than to underestimate anyone simply based on appearances.   “Yes, ma’am. I am Jeon Jungkook from the Bennett Detective Agency.” He comes up to you with his briefcase in hand and gingerly places a business card on the desk. “I believe you contacted me for a private investigation.”   “Yes. I did.” You stand, going to the seating area and he follows suit. “Would you like tea?”   “No, ma’am. I’m fine, but thank you very much.”   You nod, noticing how Detective Jeon’s eyes flicker to Taehyung who comes to pour your cup.   He finally asks, “How may I be of service?”   You take a sip, savouring the flavour on your palate before placing the floral porcelain cup down. Your expression is indifferent as you sit back. “As you may have heard, my father and mother recently passed away in a railway accident.”   “I read it from the newspaper. My condolences. Your father was a very charitable man and did a lot for Trulia.”   “Yes, well, they left behind a will and revealed that I happen to have a half-sibling that is to inherit this estate.” It goes silent. A pin could drop in the room and echo. You inhale a breath and continue, “I want you to find this sibling of mine and tell me who they are, where they are, and what they’re doing. If you can do it, I’ll pay you a generous sum. However much you want. However long it takes.”   Detective Jeon nods. He doesn’t seem too surprised or curious. You suppose he must be used to this sort of thing in his line of work.   It was through your connections that you found him. He’s an upcoming private detective, but what he lacks in experience, he makes up in tenacity and foresight. He’s the best that Trulia has.   “Do you have any leads?”   You hum. It’s remarkable he asks that. You’ve been thinking about it — picking apart every single memory, all instances there could have been a hint, each time you could have been blinded to such a secret. “I don’t have any leads, but I have suspicions.”   The detective leans in closer, doe eyes placed on yours.   “I believe my sibling may be older than me and I believe contrary to any initial hunches, it may be my mother’s child.” Maybe your father knew and something had happened. Maybe he was ridden with guilt and that’s why he decided to give everything to your sibling.    “I remember, years ago, my mother came in one drunken night and she told me about her previous lover. She was supposed to marry him and they even ran away together, but my grandparents found them and she was forced to marry my father. It’s possible that she may have had a child with him before I was born. And it may be possible he came to the funeral.”   Detective Jeon takes out his notepad and begins scribbling. He bobs his head and you inhale a staggering breath as you continue to talk. You never thought you would have to divulge into your parents’ secrets after their death, that you would have to reveal all you know to a stranger. But you have to do what it takes if you want to find this person before your aunt and uncle do.   “I saw a man about your height. He looked old, about fifty or so. He put a rose at my mother’s casket and left without speaking to me. I have never seen him before in my life.”   “Did you see anything else about him?”   “Nothing that would be helpful. He had brown hair, but he was wearing black as everyone else was. He left before I could get to him.”   “Did your mother ever tell you anything else? Where they ran away to? What they were planning to do afterwards?”   “No. She only ever spoke to me about it on that one occasion.” Frankly, you’re not sure if you want to know, but you push past the thought. Detective Jeon notes it and something prickles in your mind. “If you can, I want you to also look into Park Jimin as well.”   His eyes lift off his paper.   “He’s a gardener that works at this estate,” you tell him. “He’s always been close to my mother.”   And unusually so. She never cared much for the help, but you’ve seen them walking together before and conversing on numerous occasions.   “I’ll see what I can do for you.” The detective smiles and once the conversation concludes, he takes his briefcase.    “Oh and Detective Jeon.” Your voice stops him on his way out and he turns. “It would be best if no one finds out about this, namely my relatives. They can be quite...nosy.”   He looks at you and smiles. “Understood.”   Taehyung sees him out and you take a moment to recline back into the armchair, gandering at the many bookcases lining the walls. You never thought you would one day sit in your father’s study like this. He was in here more often than any other room and somehow, it always seemed so big when you were a child.    Taehyung comes back within minutes and you can tell by the expression on his face that he has questions.   The corner of your mouth tugs and you languidly bat your hand. “Ask away.”   “What are you planning to do when you find them?”   “I’ll kill them, of course.”   You get onto your feet, slowly rounding the desk. There’s a glass paperweight on the surface and you pick it up to fiddle with it. There’s a floral print inside and it catches the light no matter what direction you turn it to. You gave this to your father for his birthday one year.   “I can’t return to being that naive person like you hope I will, Taehyung.”   You’re not children anymore. As much as you wish, you can’t go back to that simple time.   “I know.”   You twist on your heel, looking him straight into his eyes. “Then will you help me?”   He closes the distance in two strides and leans down to take your other hand. His plush lips kiss against your knuckles and he swears his loyalty yet again, “I’ll do anything for you, mistress.”   //   The next afternoon, you gather the entire estate’s servants together — the cooks, kitchen workers, maids and footmen. They look nervous at the sudden impromptu gathering, glancing at one another and quietly murmuring.   You clear your throat loudly and their attention is taken.   “As you all know, recently my father and mother, Mr. and Mrs. Arden, have passed away. And I have become the new head of household. You have done a well enough job to be here and your services are much appreciated. For those who came to give their condolences at the memorial, it is something I will not forget. However, your loyalties must belong to me, not to my late parents.”    There are worried glimpses exchanged and you begin to pace in front of them. “As I am now the lady of the Arden estate, I would like to begin anew.”   You can’t afford to feed so many mouths, considering all the wealth is frozen. You’ll be paying with what you personally have until you can find a solution with Mr. Kim. Not to mention, you’re not sure who can be trusted, who your uncle and aunt have already persuaded. The last thing you need is extra eyes and ears in this house.   “From now on, Taehyung will be the manager of this household. He will see to it that the household will still function. If you have any questions, ask him. If you have any concerns, then ask him. He will come to me with whatever he cannot solve.”   “Few of you will stay and I thank the rest for serving this house for so long. I will make sure your severance pay is generous enough until you will be able to find work elsewhere. If your name is called, you may stay.”   Taehyung, standing behind you, begins reading from the list. One of the three names called is none other than Jimin himself.   The gardener smiles out of relief, eyes crinkled into half-moons. “Thank you, madam.”   You nod and once it’s done, you leave for the study as Taehyung takes care of the rest. You don’t want to stay around to see disheartened expressions or hear pleas to stay. So you’re resigned to watch out of the upper windows instead.   You’ve allowed them a few days to leave, but some are already taking their exit with their belongings with them, tearfully looking back at the mansion. It’s difficult but it needs to be done.   “My lady…”   You hear Taehyung come from behind you. You shift away from the window. “You’ll help me look for new help?”   “Of course.”   “Do you think four maids and one cook will suffice?” You count on your fingers. There’s already Jimin taking care of the gardens, you kept one maid so he’ll only have to hire three, and there’s a trustworthy kitchen maid too. It’s not like you need that many hands to take care of the estate. “Or will you need more help?”   “That’ll be fine.” The edge of Taehyung’s mouth pulls. “I could technically do it all, if you’d like.”   “And have you fainting on me from exhaustion?” You notice lint on his coat tail, so you come up to him and gently dust off his shoulder. “I think not.”   Taehyung’s sly smile tugs. “Do you consider me delicate?”   “No. But I am,” you clarify, looking up at the man. “If you’re not here twenty four seven attending to me, then what would be the point of having you around?” You brush past him, mumbling, “Can’t have you in the kitchen when you’re supposed to be by my side.”   The man stifles back a laugh to himself, yet his grin is all too evident. “Yes, madam.”   You glare at him over your shoulder, but it reminds you, “Tell the new help not to call me madam. You know I don’t like it.”   He puts his hand over his heart and bows exaggeratedly. “Yes, young mistress.”   You scoff. The title is not that much different and he knows it too. He always knows how to be cheeky, but you let it go because he’s Taehyung. It’s not like you can ever be upset with him for long.    He’s already won before the game’s begun.   //   A few days later, there’s a knock at your door.   It’s unusual. Taehyung never knocks and your suspicions are confirmed when an unfamiliar girl is sticking her nose into the room. “Umm...pardon me.”   It’s an unfamiliar girl in a maid ensemble, a black dress with white trim and a ruffled apron with a headpiece. Her hair is dark and shiny, features sharp. You assume she must be one of the new ones. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t find Butler Kim, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Kim, the lawyer— I think, is in the parlor. He instructed me to tell you that he’s brought it.”   You nod and get up. But you stop for a second and come eye to eye with the girl. “What’s your name?”   “Jane.” She smiles to herself as if she’s happy you’ve made a note of it.   “If you could clear the teacup from the table.”   “Oh! Certainly!” She rushes over and you don’t linger.    True to what’s been told, the middle-aged lawyer is sitting in his chair and he staggers up as you come into the room. “It’s good to see you well, Y/N, and that you’ve taken charge of this estate so well.”   “Thank you.” You motion to the armchair. “Please, sit.”   “I brought your parent’s business expense reports as you asked.” Mr. Kim takes it from his briefcase and hands you the thick folder after settling down. “I didn’t think I would have it until I remembered there was a box in my office closet meant for this sort of thing. My office ended up branching out and opening a professional accounting firm a year ago, you see, so we no longer do bookkeeping.”   You flip open to find your father’s writing, then pages of Mr Kim’s. The reports match up with what he says. It stops a year ago. You might need to get into contact with Yoongi to find the more recent expense documents.   “Thank you for this. It will be very helpful to me.”   The lawyer nods. “Anytime, child. Now about what you talked to me about last time….”   “Yes, how is that coming along?”   He sharply inhales. “As I suspected, it will be difficult to challenge the will in court, Y/N. It hasn’t been done before and it may be costly. For now, my first submission is still in process, so we’ll have to see if we can even speak to a judge. I’ll let you know how that comes along.”   You’re grateful he’s still of help to you. He's older than your father is, but you suppose he must enjoy his line of work to not retire at this age. “Mr. Kim, if I may ask a question. Were...you aware that I had a sibling?”   The man smiles sadly. “Unfortunately, I was not. The will was sealed and I was simply entrusted to read it to you all. It took me by surprise as much as it did for you.”   If you didn’t know, the family lawyer wouldn’t either.    You wonder how many other well-kept secrets there are in your family.   That night, you look over the documents while burning the midnight oil. As usual Taehyung insists that you head to bed when the grandfather clock chimes past twelve, but after you tell him to go retire first, he stays silent beside you.    Taehyung’s too stubborn sometimes, but you don’t tell him his company is pleasant to have.   “Huh.”   “What’s the matter?”   “I didn’t know my father donated to St. Andale Orphanage.” You squint, reading the barely legible writing. You don’t remember that happening or it being posted in the newspaper.   “It must’ve been done anonymously,” Taehyung comments and you make a noise in agreeance. But it’s strange. Your father always liked to have his name on donations so that people would know and it would be written in the newspaper. It’s not like him to go quiet and he gave quite generously too.   “I’d like to go to the orphanage tomorrow.” You look up at Taehyung. “In the morning.”   “I’ll arrange that for you,” he says with a smile.   You close the books. “I’d like that man to join me as well. My father’s worker, Min Yoongi.”   At that, Taehyung’s brow quirks. “For?”   “He was close to my father, right? He might know something I don’t.”   //   The orphanage is a worn brick on the south side of the city in the poorer area, yet it somehow looks to be holding up well. It’s unlike the other buildings around that’s crumbling. You wonder if it’s your father’s doing that made this place half-decent.   You can hear the laughter of children in the plot of grass fenced in. You watch them at the distance while strolling the perimeter with Taehyung to your left and Yoongi to your right.   “It is quite cloudy today.”   “It looks like winter is coming soon.” Yoongi looks at you. “If you’re cold, we could go inside.”   “No, it’s quite alright. I don’t get to enjoy the cold weather often and it can be nice.” You turn with a small smile. “I might be like my father in that way.”   “Yes, I remember he told me he quite enjoyed the snow.” His eyes gloss over, reminiscent. “Your father was a very respectable man.”   “He was a good businessman and an even less attentive father,” you hum and feel Yoongi’s gaze on your profile, but he doesn’t get a chance to reply. “I’m sorry to ask you this, but did my father ever speak about his private life, Mr. Min?”   “Yoongi is fine. But no, not frequently at least. I only remember he once told me about flowers he was going to get for his wife before he headed home and I remember he spoke about you a few times.”   “Me?”   “Yes.” Yoongi offers a polite smile. “He told me that you were quite talented in your personal studies.”   You take a glance at him. There’s not a single trace on his expression that lets you know he’s lying or exaggerating, but you still find it hard to believe. “In his will, he gave me a pocket watch. I was hoping you’d know more about it. It’s gold and without any designs or engravings—”   “Gold?” Yoongi gives you a peculiar expression. “The company doesn’t make gold pocket watches.”   “Pardon?”   He explains, “We found that the profits weren’t worth the costs, so what’s used is silver, bronze, ceramic or even glass. In the third collection, there were some gold watches, but you said there weren’t any designs or engravings on it?”   “There’s nothing.”   The corner of the man's mouth pulls. “Mr. Arden must have personally handcrafted it for you then.”   Your brows furrow. You’re not sure how you feel upon hearing that, so you cast a glimpse to Taehyung who’s been quietly listening and he smiles at you. Yoongi clears his throat a moment after. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, Miss Y/N, but considering it’s about your family, I think you have a right to know.”   Your head turns over in alarm. “What is it?”   “Your cousin, I believe, Hoseok. He’s been….showing up to the company often. He’s been wanting to book a meeting with me for a week now and he waits until I’m done working to try to speak to me. I suspect he wants to take over the business.”   You’re not surprised. “I’m receiving that kind of pressure in regards to the wealth and estate, Yoongi, and a hundred times worse. I think you have it in you to handle my overbearing cousin.”   Yoongi laughs from his chest as if he already figured you didn’t have any real solution. But based on your answer, it’s allowing him to do whatever he wants to that cousin of yours.    A few minutes pass before an older woman emerges to the field. “Children! Children! It’s time for lunch! Come along now!”   Another woman comes to invite you inside, so you follow after them into a room where they’re serving soup and loaves of bread. You watch children as old as fifteen to as young as three line up one after another. It’s both sad and heartwarming to see so many sparkling eyes in hunger-pane frames.    “Today’s food was given to us by Miss Arden and Mr. Min, can everyone give a big thank you?”   There’s a chorus of ‘thank you’s throughout the room and toothless grins from boys and girls.   When a woman struggles with carrying a box inside, Taehyung comes to help and then Yoongi. They’re supplies that you donated out of your own pocket, clothing and some blankets — it’s not much but still better than nothing.   “I want more!”   A pitched voice of a four year old boy in drab clothes knocks you out of your train of thought and you shift towards him. His friend adamantly shakes his head.   “No! ‘Member what Sister Emmy said? You only get one!”   You step forward, lips parting but before a single word can escape—   “Here you go.” An older girl with soft features and her hair pulled back in a frayed ribbon has spun around with an extended arm. Her loaf of bread is in hand. The boy blinks owlishly at her and she beams. “You can have it.”   “Thank you!” He takes it and the two boys run away.   “That was very kind of you,” you speak up and she turns around, startled that someone saw. You smile at her, lowering yourself to match her height. “You can have more bread. There should be enough for the next few days.”   Her eyes light up. “Really?”   You don’t like children much, but this girl seems to be intelligent and mature for her age. “What’s your name?”   “Rose, ma’am.” She bows her head awkwardly, rather well-mannered. “Thank you for the food.”   “I’m happy to help when I can. Can I ask how old you are?”   She counts on her fingers for a moment. “I believe twelve, ma’am, but I’m not sure.” As you frown, she quickly explains, “My mother died when I was young and I’ve never met my father, so I don’t know for certain how old I am….”   Her voice becomes quieter and quieter as it goes on and you realize she’s ashamed.   “That’s quite alright. I don’t have parents anymore either.” You muster a smile and the corner of her own mouth tugs. It’s pleasant to talk to someone who doesn’t know you, someone who doesn’t have any ulterior motives. “What do you like to do, Rose?”   “I don’t do much. But I like to cook! And churn butter. I also like collecting eggs and making milk.”   You hum. “How would you like to come back with me and work at the house?”   Her eyes open wide, irises practically glistening from the afternoon sunlight coming through the windows.   You’re normally not so impulsive, but you have a feeling she’s wasted here in the orphanage where she’ll have to work in a factory soon or get married by fifteen. Your mother always warned you to pick and choose the people around you carefully, and this girl seems trustworthy. Or at least, you can see capability.   Taehyung was even younger than she was when he entered the house for the first time. He must’ve been six or seven. His dad worked for the household and so did his dad’s dad — a whole lineage that made it inevitable that Taehyung would follow too.   Rose comes home with you three hours later.   You take it that this kind of affair customarily doesn’t happen so quickly judging by the head lady there being overwhelmed by the generous offer of taking the girl. But the process was most likely sped up considering your well-known status and Rose’s enthusiasm at the promise of a private room, food each day, and a high pay at the end of every month. She was more than happy and practically begging the woman she knew well to let her go. And the woman was happy too — even thanking you for giving her a home.   You’re not sure if it’s much of a home. But it’s yours.   “This is...enormous.” Rose gasps as her eyes lay upon the manor, lugging her small case of belongings by her side. “I-I mean, thank you, ma’am. I will work very hard!”   Your lips tickle into a small smile. “I’m glad.” The three of you enter and she gawks at the place. “Taehyung will show you where you’ll stay in the maid’s quarters and what will be expected of you. I’ll give you time to settle yourself, so don’t worry about anything for now.”   “Thank you, ma’am!”   “It’s right this way.” He guides and she tottles after him. You sigh softly with a smile as you watch the pair. He was amused when you told him that you wanted to take her home and he followed your instructions without much protest. Hopefully Taehyung will let her know that you’re not keen on being called ma’am or madam.   You’re about to retire to your room, but you’re stopped on your way by Jane.    She fiddles with her fingers nervously. “Miss, um, there’s, uh…”   “What is it?”   “There’s a guest in the parlor. He came about an hour or two ago and he insisted on staying until you came home.”   You hold in your sigh, wondering why it’s so hard to take a rest these days. “From now on, do not allow anyone inside the house when I am not here unless said otherwise.”   She flinches at your tone and dips her head. “Yes, my lady.”   You make your way to the room to find out who this uninvited guest is, and your brows furrowed in confusion when you see the backside of an unfamiliar man. He’s dressed in a sack coat with a matching waistcoat and black trousers. He must hear your footsteps since he turns around and instantly gets up, jaw gone slack.   “You must be Y/N,” he murmurs in awe. “You’re even more beautiful in person.”   The man comes to you and takes the back of your hand, placing a kiss against your knuckles. You eye him the entire time. “And you are…?”   “Oh, I apologize, I hadn’t realized I didn’t introduce myself.” He takes off his top hat and presses it to his chest. “I am Mark Carter. I believe your uncle may have spoken about me previously.”   You vaguely remember something about meeting his friend’s son, but you can’t quite pinpoint the details. Your expression remains stoic and unimpressed. “Is that so?”   “It’s an honour to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”   You guessed this would have happened, but you didn’t know it would come so soon. Being the head of the Arden Household and unmarried at that, it’s only natural that others will come after you.    It would be wise of you to consider it as well — the only way you can collect the temporary inheritance is through your husband. But as silly and naive as it might be, you want to marry for love and not convenience. And it’s the one thing you won’t allow yourself to give up on.   “Like what?”   “Pardon?”   “What have you heard about me?”   Mark clears his throat. “Well, I have heard that you are as intelligent as your father and as beautiful as your mother, no less than a red rose blossoming in the morning dew of spring. And I must say, those rumours do not do you justice, Miss Y/N. You far exceed any poetry that could possibly be waxed.”   The corner of your mouth curls in amusement. Admittedly, it’s nice to hear such bold and blatant compliments once in a while, even if they are exaggerated and likely crafted by your uncle. “While I am wholly flattered, Mr. Carter, is this what you came here to tell me?”   The man’s posture straightens. “I came to ask permission to court you.”   You nearly choke on your own spit. You’re taken aback at the man’s shamelessness, not sure if he’s dimwitted or simply brave. “Meaning?”   “I would like to send you letters every so often if you grant me permission and perhaps if you’d be inclined to take strolls with me.”   You’re not sure how to answer or what to say, but you’re starting to feel your impassive expression crumble. You muse it’s impressive your uncle found someone as overbearing and insistent as he is. “Can I ask why you want to send me letters? We’ve never met before.”   “Actually, we have,” he says and blinks. “At your father’s charity function two years ago.”   You scour your mind, but you can’t recall. Every charity function you attended, you just remember sneaking out food for Taehyung and sitting together outside looking at the stars.    Mark reads your expression as he realizes that you can’t remember and his face falls. “It hurts me that you can’t remember the encounter but no matter.” He suddenly takes your hands and you lean back to create more distance. “If you let me, Miss Y/N, I promise you that you will not be disappointed.”   “Mr. Carter—”   “I have not been able to forget you since that night.” You wonder why he didn’t look for you sooner then if he felt so passionately about an encounter you can’t even remember. But before you can ask, he comes closer to you, forcing you to take a step back. “If you give me a chance, I will grant your every wish.”   He’s crowding you, intruding in your space, larger than you are.   Your mouth parts, trying to utter out a word, but it’s not necessary. A looming shadow comes over Mark, draping him away from the light.    It’s Taehyung with a menacing expression — his lips drawn together, eyes practically burning holes. He grabs the back of the man’s coat collar and yanks him away from you, finally giving you space to breathe. “Please do not lay a hand on her ladyship, good sir.”   “W-Who’re you?!” Mark looks between you and Taehyung as if expecting you’ll tell him to leave him be. But you don’t move whatsoever.   Your butler offers the man a stiff smile that has your own mouth curling upwards. “Uninvited guests are no longer permitted in the Arden estate. The maid that you let in was inexperienced. A mistake like that will never happen again. So unfortunately, you will have to leave now until you receive a proper invitation.”   “Wait!”   You stifle back a laugh when Taehyung physically picks him up, nearly throwing him over his shoulder.   The man struggles and his cries echo throughout the manor as he’s taken away, “Put me down! Stop! You idiot! You’ll hear from my father about this! How dare you!”   Taehyung throws him out of the estate and you’re finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.   When he comes back, he dusts off his hands with a more pleased expression. “What would you like for dinner, mistress?”   //   The next time someone visits, it’s not uninvited.   “Who are you?” Jane has stopped in the middle of her path, duster in hand and scrutinizing the doe-eyed male in the foyer. His brow lifts at the girl, but before he can come up with an answer, Taehyung appears from the corridor.   “Right this way, sir.”   The man in his coat nods and walks away, yet the maid is still curious. Her eyes follow the stranger’s form and she murmurs to Taehyung, “But who is he?”   “Her lady’s affairs don’t affect you,” he coldly deadpans. “It would be better to attend to your duties than ask questions.”   “M-My apologies, Butler Kim.” Jane dips her head and turns around, but she still steals a glance over her shoulder with a pout and a huff escaping through her nose.   Taehyung comes inside the study to find you and Detective Jeon going through what he’s found.   “I looked into Park Jimin like you asked me to.”   “What did you find?”   Detective Jeon flips open copies of documents. “He was born and raised right here in Lennox, never stepped foot outside of Trulia. His parents are immigrants from the East, still married and living together on the West side of the city in a tenement. His father worked in a landscaping company and his brother, three years older than he is, is a wagon craftsman.”   You go through the papers and sigh after a moment. It doesn’t seem like he’s the one you’re looking for. Well, you suppose you’ve ruled out at least one possibility.   “He’s as boring as they get,” the detective says. “But I did find something...peculiar.”   “What is it?”   “That man you wanted me to search for, the one who came to the funeral, I think I might have found where he is.” Detective Jeon hands you another worn folder from his briefcase and you eagerly untie the string to look at the pages inside.   “An intern at your father’s company actually spoke to him briefly and I found the inn he was staying at in Lennox. Spoke to the lady there and went to the train station. I have a connection with someone who manages the books and they found a train ticket. There’s more to it, but I won’t bore you.”   His name is Arthur Kahl. There are small details of him written, how he’s in his fifties, where he lives and a drawing of him sits amongst the documents. Your brows furrow. This is him — there’s no doubt about it.   “He’s an artisan. A woodworker,” Detective Jeon tells you. “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar, but he grew up here in Lennox.”   Your eyes flicker up to Taehyung and then the detective. “Thank you for this.”   He offers a smile. “It’s all in a day's work.”    Shortly after, Detective Jeon is escorted out by the butler. His eyes are perceptive but his senses are even more keen. He takes a glance at the taller man. “Your name is Kim Taehyung, right?”   Taehyung’s brow quirks. “I think you already know the answer to that.”   Detective Jeon boyishly smiles. “Is it alright if I ask a question? It might be intrusive.”   “Then don’t ask.”   “But see, I’m much too curious.” His steps slow while the two men come outside where it’s harder to eavesdrop. They stop on the front path of the manor leading towards the gates. “It might be the reason why I ended up in this line of work. Can’t give up on something once it’s in my head. I just have to know.”    There’s a pause. Then, he doesn’t hesitate any longer. “Do you perhaps fancy Miss Y/N?”   Detective Jeon’s doe eyes sparkle in the sunlight.   It’s a subtlety that can only be noticed through careful observation.   But he’s seen it — through the way you allow the butler to stay in every private conversation divulging the secret details of your family. How he always knows what you want without you needing to speak a single word. You’re in rhythm with one another and always taking glances when the other person isn’t looking.    Jungkook has seen many things. But never a master and servant so close to each other.   “That is an intrusive question.” Taehyung’s expression remains impassive. “My devotion goes beyond such kinds of frivolous and fickle emotions.”   His mouth quirks. “Why don’t you do anything about it then?”   “It’s not my place. I merely grant her wishes and fulfill my necessary duties.”   “So you’re holding yourself back on purpose?”   “That’s enough questions.” Butler Kim continues walking. “You’re a detective. If you’re that curious, I’m sure you can figure it out.”   “You’re right.” Detective Jeon grins, led out the gates, yet he turns around one last time. “But if you’re willing to do anything for your mistress, would you kill for her?”   His expression hardens while Jungkook flashes another smile. It’s not the kind of question that is waiting for an answer, so the other merely walks off, down the path and away from the estate.    //   You’ve only ever left Trulia twice in your life.   Once on a family outing when you were five or six and another time for just a few days when you were accompanying your father on a business trip. You’ve never had the chance to see much outside of this country and it’s a wish that you never spoke to anyone before but Taehyung.   There was simply never a chance for you to go. And while you expected your next journey out of Trulia would be an adventure and perhaps seeing new sights, you suppose this is a good excuse as well.   “Can you please pack another dress? I don’t want to run out when I’m there.”   Rose enthusiastically nods and goes to your wardrobe to pick another gown. While Taehyung is the one who would ever pack your suitcases, you don’t want to rely on him too much. He was already preparing the rest of the things for the trip and Rose seemed more than happy to help.   “The blue one will be fine.”   She nods and folds it into the case as you look over the gloves. “How long will you be going for, miss?”   “A few days.” You look up at the twelve year old and the corner of your mouth tugs. “You’ll watch the house for me? I don’t want any roaches to crawl in while I’m away.”   Her head bobs up and down. “I’ll try my best, my lady.”   You smile, noticing Jane looking into the room. She realizes you’ve seen her and clears her throat. “Do you need any help, my lady?”   “No, I’m fine, thank you.”   It’s nerve-racking to leave the estate and Trulia. You trust that a few days won’t bring things into chaos, especially considering that you’ve kept your affairs discreet. But underlying the unsettlement is a buzz of excitement — that just for a short while, you can escape.    You feel that way even a day later when you’re at the train platform. And whatever you were afraid of is washed away with Taehyung by your side.   “Stand right here. I’ll only be a moment,” he tells you, holding your tickets to Colmar and you nod.   Your hand grips the suitcase as you overlook the bustle of people. You’ve never seen so many gathered in one place before, families and lovers parting ways, children rushing past, the conductor quickly pacing to the front of the platform. It’s dizzying to look at and overwhelming to be in.   You wonder if you look out of place in the mass of people. You chose to wear a white dress with a natural silhouette, a bustle pad underneath and a bonnet around your half pinned-up hair. It’s modest attire, but the threads are still expensive. The last thing you would want is to attract needless attention and that’s why you made Taehyung wear a normal white waistcoat and black frock coat with matching trousers than his usual stiff tailcoat. He looks rather nice in normal clothing anyhow.   As you think about Taehyung, you start to search the crowd.   The red and black painted train whistles, smoke coming from its chimney. It looks like it’s about to leave soon, but you’re not sure if you should go in or where you would even sit or put your luggage. It’s been so long since you’ve been on a train, you don’t know what to do.   The endless questions and uncertainty drains blood from your face and you start to panic.   Until Taehyung comes into sight.    “What took you so long.” You frown at him but he still has the audacity to smile.   “My apologies, I had to check if we were at the right platform. Let’s go.”   He takes your suitcase and offers his arm which you take.   Taehyung keeps you from being swallowed by the thick crowd and pushed back. His height looms over even most men and although his stature is lean, he remains steady. Once you’re at the doors, he puts down the cases and holds your hand to help you up the step and then he resumes by your side, cutting through the passenger cars.    The two of you pass the more luxurious sleeping cars and as you peek into the window of the car of commoners, wondering if that’s where you’re heading, he slides open the door of a compartment.   It’s a private booth with a large window and a ledge overtop for your suitcases.   “Here we are, my lady.”    Taehyung organizes your belongings as you sit down on the plush seat. A moment later, the train begins to move, wheels rolling against the rail and then it builds speed to chug along.   You watch houses flash past the window.   “What do you think?” he asks, sitting opposite of you.   “Is it supposed to be so nauseating?”    Your head is light and the world is dizzying from the fast motion of the train. Taehyung must see your weakened expression with the way his eyes widen in alarm. But you quickly lift your hand and try to reassure him, “It’s fine.”   It isn’t. And he knows it.   “We can get off the next station.”   “No!” You inhale a deep breath, calming yourself. “We have to go. We have to make it, Taehyung.”   You shut your eyes. There’s no way you can turn back now. “It’s probably because I haven’t been sleeping well.” Not when you’re up day and night taking care of what your parents left for you, even if it’s only temporarily. And not when you’re kept awake plagued by the secrets of the people who were supposed to be closest to you. “The herbs in my tea can only do so much.”   Suddenly, you feel the seat dip beside you and your eyes flutter open to see Taehyung. He reaches over and gently guides your head to lean on his shoulder. “Then sleep. Don’t think about anything else.”   The corner of your mouth curls. “You make it sound so easy.”   “I’ll watch over you.”   A noise is made at the back of your throat and you allow yourself to mold against Taehyung’s side, your head cradled against the slight slope of his broad shoulder. As you ease, your fingers slowly drag itself over until you graze the back of his hand. No words are needed. No explanations are necessary.    Taehyung flips his hand so that his palm faces upwards and his fingers entwine with yours.   Within a few minutes, your chest begins to rise and fall, soft breaths escaping your parted lips.   Taehyung’s eyes stray from the windows to watch you.   You’re cold and blunt, carrying yourself with an intimidating demeanour that either frightens others or causes them to despise you. But he can still see the traces of your childhood self, even if the recent weeks have forced you to harden. Taehyung knows that you’re still sentimental, that you’re affectionate, that you’re not as indifferent as you’d like to be.   He knows you’re still grieving for your parents.   The two of you grew up together after all.   Since young, he’s been told he’s talented for this line of work, but devotion was another matter. He was told that being a butler meant more than just serving — it meant protecting. And he swore his duty to your name that day you took the blame when he stole from the kitchen and you got slapped by your mother.    He can still remember your small frame standing in front of him. How your words didn’t waver.   Taehyung knew it then and he knows it now — there’s nothing more important than protecting you.   His mouth tugs and his eyes lift from your sleeping features, but something catches the edge of his vision. Taehyung looks up to the window of the compartment door and finds a man, blue eyes, blonde hair curled in front of his forehead. The stranger peers into the compartment and when he notices Taehyung’s gaze, he dips his bowler hat as if to shield himself.   Taehyung moves.   He cradles your head until you’re laying down fully on the seat and he quietly slides the door open.   “Excuse me.”   Taehyung moves past someone, eyes darted on the man who peeks over his shoulder and quickens his steps.   He had seen the man before — earlier on the platform and then again when he left you alone. Taehyung came back right in time. You hadn’t noticed the man behind you at all.    Taehyung quickens his steps, stalking after the man who looks over his shoulders once more. His strides hasten. He practically breaks out into a run. Taehyung chases after him as the train curves into a tunnel. The windows are blackened, darkness sweeping throughout the cart.   He hears staggering breaths pulling roughly out of lungs and at the same time, the train rushes out the tunnel. Light breaks through the windows again and the steel door at the end of the cart begins to close. Taehyung sees through the tiny gap where panicked eyes meet his own gaze.   Taehyung runs.    He throws open the door and the cold wind rips through his hair with the intensity of a storm. The wheels shriek against the rail. There’s only a tiny step before one would have to make the jump to the other cart’s door. In between are violently rattling metal links that connect the two carts.    “Hah!”    There’s a squeak of shoes behind him. Taehyung ducks. The door slams closed.   The man’s arm is extended midair, having missed Taehyung’s cheek and within a blink, Taehyung grabs his arm and twists it. The man shouts in agony, teeth gritted. “Why you!”   His fist swings and it manages to catch Taehyung’s jaw. He’s knocked back, tasting a surge of coppery blood.    Taehyung wheezes, but his lips curl into a smile. He launches himself forward as the man squares himself. An arm swings. Fist curled. Taehyung dodges.   Taehyung takes the opportunity, no longer on the defense, and he swiftly strikes.   The man stumbles back, air ripped out of his lungs, eye sure to bruise.   Taehyung steps forward, but the man grabs something within his coat.   “Step back!”   Taehyung’s met with the muzzle of a revolver and puts his hands up, calming his breath.   The man snorts with a sly smirk. “Yeah that’s right. You’re just a dog.”   But then Taehyung's left hand clutches the man’s wrist and he contorts it at an angle, knee coming up to slam into the man’s stomach. Instantly, the man keens and wheezes.   He cries out as the revolver crashes onto the links connecting the carts and falls beneath to the rails.   Taehyung grabs the man’s collar and holds him backwards, nearly off the train. The man’s eyes become rounded in fear. There’s a storm of verdant in the background, fields and trees darting past.   “Who are you?!”   “Let go of me! I...I swear, I didn’t want to do this!”   “What do you want with her?” Taehyung demands, shaking the man whose head nearly touches the steel rails. The man’s fist curls on Taehyung’s so he doesn’t fall. “Answer the question!”   The shout is torn from Taehyung’s throat, his face crumpled into unadulterated anger, jaw clenched.   “I-It was her uncle!” the man quickly spits out in fear of his life. “Seokjin! He hired me! He wanted me to kill her!”   “So you were planning on putting a bullet through her head?!”   “I-I just needed the money! I’m sorry! Please, please,” the man pleads. “You don’t have to do this. W-What has that girl ever done for you? You’re just her guard dog!”   Taehyung has a deadpan expression, eyes dim. He begins to release his hold on the man who audibly sighs of relief. “That’s right.”    But it’s too soon.   “Don’t you know dogs are one of the most loyal animals?” Taehyung grabs the man again as he stands and throws him off the train into the soft meadow. “Woof.”   The man’s scream echoes. Taehyung dusts off his hand.   He comes back to the compartment to where you’re still sleeping and resumes his spot with your head in his lap, finding a warm blanket to drape over you.    Six hours later, you wake up, rubbing your eyes. He smiles and tucks a loose strand of hair in front of your face behind your ear. But your sleepy daze shatters when you see his split lip.   Almost immediately, you’re leaning over to Taehyung, grazing the wound with your thumb.   He sharply inhales.   “What happened?” you demand, worry written all over your face.   It hurts to smile, but can’t resist it. He should never admit it — he likes it when your attention is solely on him. “I tripped.”   You look at him incredulously. “Taehyung.”   “I did.” He doesn’t give up the excuse no matter how much you prod and pry.    The train arrives in the town of Colmar shortly after.   It’s a quiet place with a certain dryness to the air in spite of the river running through the town and underneath the bridges. The homes are tightly knitted next to one another. It’s a cozy kind of atmosphere. For a moment, you can imagine your mother having spent her life in this place and you’re not certain how to feel.   You decide to stay in an inn near the square, dropping off your suitcases in your given room.   “We should find him, shouldn’t we?”   You turn from the window to Taehyung with an unreadable expression.   “We don’t have to,” he says and it’s all too tempting. You want to forget that you’re here looking for your mother’s old lover, that you’re searching for your sibling. You wish you can pretend that this is merely a trip to enjoy with Taehyung in a place far away from Lennox.   But even if you were to dream such a thing, the truth would not stop plaguing your mind.   You muster the strength to shake your head. “We can enjoy ourselves after. There’s no point in putting it off.”   “He’s an artisan. A woodworker.”   The detective’s words ring inside your head.   “Lives in France, in a town called Colmar.”   It should be difficult to find the man — that way you have a legitimate excuse to put this off. You wouldn’t have to confront your parents’ secrets. Or meet a brother or sister you never wanted.   “But he grew up here in Lennox.”   Yet this town is small and there is only one known woodworker. If such a thing as fate or destiny exists, then it never stops being cruel to you.   The bell rings as the door of the shop opens.   “Hello there! How can I help you?”   There’s an older man behind the counter busy at his shelf, brunette hair and features tender, wrinkles creased around his eyes to mark each smile he’s collected over the years.   You come towards him with Taehyung by your side. “You were at my mother’s funeral.”   At your murmur, the man turns around wide-eyed. Arthur Kahl, the man your mother loved, who she wanted to marry and be happy with. The father of your sibling.   “You’re Hana’s daughter….” His mouth draws open. “Wh-what are you doing here?”   “I came to see you. I think you may have answers to my questions.”   “I-...I don’t know if I do, but please, sit.” He hobbles to the front of his shop, turning the sign over to not receive any more customers and the both of you sit on wobbly chairs. He knows you came this far, that you searched for him. There’s no other way you could have found him. “I’m sorry I never spoke to you at the funeral. I thought since we didn’t know each other, there was no point in bringing back old memories.”   “Is it true then?” You look at him carefully. “About my mother and you running away together…”   “That was a very long time ago.”   “Then why did you come to see my mother?”   “It was a long time ago, but I still wanted to pay my respects. Your mother...was a wonderful woman and treated me kindly. I’m glad she ended up having a good life and a happy family.”   The corner of your mouth twitches.   He continues, “While I never personally met your father, he seems like a very respectable man and a good husband. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”   The words sit uncomfortably in you. Your parents always seemed to treat each other with mutual respect and trust. It was never a passionate affair like pairs you’ve met, but rather a quiet relationship of sitting alongside one another. You never would have guessed your mother had someone else.   But you don’t want to know anymore about your mother’s history.   “I received my parent’s will a day after their burial.” You inhale a breath, bracing yourself. “And it promised my sibling the estate and the company. I don’t want to harm them. I want to fulfill my parents’ last wishes. So please, allow me to meet my sibling.”   Your eyes meet his earnestly. The man stares back at you, his brows knitting together.   “My apologies, but I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding. I don't know who your sibling is.”   The clock on his shelf ticks loudly.   “Your mother and I never consummated our relationship.”   //   The night sets in, matches hissing into a flame and thrown into the wood in the fireplace until it awakens and paints the room in a warm orange hue. The quietness is deafening outside of the crackle and pop of the fire.   You haven’t eaten. You don’t want to. You don’t think you could stomach it.   “My apologies.”   You’re seated at the rounded table in the chair, motionless. You should’ve never come. You should have just stayed in the estate instead of trying to dig around in the secrets of your family, into the reasons why nothing was left for you, why they didn’t love you even after death.   “But I’m afraid there’s a misunderstanding.”   You came here for nothing.   “I don't know who your sibling is.”   Your efforts were worthless.   “Your mother and I never consummated the relationship.”   There’s an ear-splitting crash that rings the four walls.    Taehyung opens the door, eyes darting to you. You’re hyperventilating, clutching the handle of your suitcase, all your belongings fallen on the ground beside the wall. You toss the case aside with a frustrated cry.   He calmly shuts the door before anyone in the inn can pry and closes the distance in two strides.   “It’s okay.” He opens his arms and he engulfs your quivering frame.   You grasp onto him, your hands twisting into his white shirt. “I-I don’t know what to do, Taehyung. I...I really thought I had it. I was preparing myself—”   You were preparing yourself to meet your sibling. To confront it all. For once, you were ready.   The frustration cripples you blind and angers you.    How much longer will you be left in the dark? How much longer do you have to look like the fool, a child fumbling in her parent’s history searching for the truth? Why did they do this to you?    Why?   “You can cry,” Taehyung murmurs.   And tears finally slip from your eyes to stain his shoulder.    If it wasn’t for him, if he wasn’t here, you might have lost your mind by now.

[crystalessenceswrites]

Hi Again! I was wondering if you wrote for the clones? (I'm thirsting for Wolffe!!) If not, that's ok! And if so, I thought maybe something fluffy and a bit hot with Wolffe? I'm a huge sucker for the trope- Reader tries to hide that she hasn't been feeling well and turns out she's pregnant? With twins! She's scared because even though they're committed, it wasn't planned? And then fluff and some love making?? <3333

Hi lovely, welcome back! I am open to writing for the clones, I just haven’t done so yet! I too thirst for Commander Wolffe so you’re in luck! This trope is def very cute, the end turned out more fluffy than spicy, I hope that's alright.

Commander Wolffe x fem!reader Rating: E (18+) Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected p in v sex, unplanned pregnancy, swearing (first time writing for Wolffe, may be slightly ooc)

[PART TWO]

There was never enough time. You really should not have been surprised by the revelation, you were at war, but it still sat heavy on your chest. Always needed elsewhere as soon as you completed a mission. Never time to rest, even in transit. Someone always needed your attention for reports, strategic planning or council meetings as the GAR cruiser hurtled through hyperspace. It never left you enough time for him. Thankfully, the stubborn nature of your clone commander allowed him to make time, even if just a spare moment, for the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” you throw your head back against the door as he reaches that spot deep inside you. Pushing you ever closer to the edge. “Wolffe, please-” you’re whining as he grinds up into you, throbbing inside you. He’s always had the uncanny ability to read your body, he knows better than you when you’re close to bliss and he enjoys drawing it out. To think Commander Wolffe was a fucking tease.

“Please what, cyare?” His smug grin slides across your chest following the trail of marks he’s littered across your skin where no one will see. “What does ner jetii need?”

“Please, ‘m so close,” you tighten your legs around his waist, trying to draw him in closer, anything to reach your release, “please, Wolffe!”

He groans into your neck as you tug at the curls fallen loose at the nape of his neck, “well when you ask so nicely, cyare.”

His sudden thrust up pushes the air from your lungs. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he pounds into you, all teasing forgotten. He’s relentless as you tighten around him, the coil in your belly threatening to snap.

“That’s it,” he grunts, “come on my cock ner jetii.”

His words and his gloved thumb brushing over your bundle of nerves has you falling apart around him. White hot pleasure rolls over you, leaving you a limp, moaning mess in Wolffe’s arms.

“That’s it, mesh’la. Squeezing me so kriffing tight,” he groans, hips stuttering, his own release fast approaching. “Fuck.” Wolffe manages a few more thrusts before he buries himself in you, spilling himself inside you. Whispered praises fall from his lips as he comes down from his own high. His lips ghost over yours in a chaste kiss as he withdraws, tucking himself away before he lets you down.

Your legs cry out in relief when they meet solid ground, not longer clinging to Wolffe for support.

“Good, cyare?” his hand sweeps over your brow, so tender for a man with such a fierce reputation, even amongst his brothers.

“Mhmm,” leaning into his touch, he chuckles at your blissed out expression.

“Someone’s bound to come looking for you soon, General. Let’s get you cleaned up.” You don’t protest as he helps you redress, though you do moan about how unfair it was he just had to remove his codpiece and you had to strip completely out of your robes for these little storage closet rendezvous’.

“I don’t think jedi robes were designed to allow for easy access, cyare.”

You pout, “you’re probably right.” There was that whole bit about no attachments you were blatantly ignoring after all.

Before the commander can come back with another sharp retort your commlink blinks to life. “Yes?”

“General, General Plo is looking for you on the bridge.”

You sigh, “thank you, Sinker. I’ll be right there.”

Never enough time.

.

The next couple of months continue much the same. You and Wolffe sneaking away between missions when you can, trying to find solace in each other despite all the horrors you both see on the battlefield. In a war that seems to stretch on forever he is your rock. As he watches his brothers fall, one after the other, you are his comfort. It breaks your heart to be apart from him but there is little you can do to control it. When the council requests you to join Obi-wan and Anakin for a series of missions you cannot object. Instead, you drag your tired self out to the far reaches of the outer rim to help them as best you can.

“You look exhausted, my dear.” Such tact this one possessed.

You roll your eyes, “you don’t look much better, Kenobi.” Though you doubt he has been waking in the middle of the night to empty the contents of his stomach like you have for the past week.

“This war does seem to be pushing us all to our limits.”

“I’ll race you!” Ahsoka sprints by, apparently headed for some target or another with her master hot on her heels.

“Snips!”

Cody chuckles under his bucket, shaking his head as the two disappear into the distance.

Obi-Wan scrubs a hand over his face, “it’s pushed most of us to our limits.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have the energy of a padawan again,” you groan.

“I agree wholeheartedly,” Obi-wan nods, “we should all try to get some rest while we can. We need to break camp near dawn.”

You agree and bid your fellow jedi an early goodnight. With the headache you could feel coming on, sleep sounded like a good idea. As you go to stand the world spins around you, any sense of balance you had gone. You reach for the crate you had been sitting on to try and stay upright but you miss by a mile. Knees giving out you collapse to the floor, the world around you still spinning. You can barely hear Cody shouting over the ringing in your ears.

“Call for a medic! The General’s collapsed!”

.

By the time you regain consciousness you’re no longer planet side. Obi-wan had been quick to have you medevacked to the closest med-station for testing. The unholy white lights of the station burn your eyes when you finally come to. Your sudden groaning draws Kix back to your bedside.

“General. Good to see you’re back with us.”

“Kix?” You try to focus on the 501st medic instead of the bright lights, “what happened?”

“You collapsed back at the forward camp. We weren’t able to determine what was wrong with the limited medical supplies we had on hand, so General Kenobi called an air lift for you.”

Another groan bubbles up, Obi-wan had been forced to waster precious resources on you. “Were you able to find out what’s wrong?”

The clone’s face falls, “yes.”

You’ve never heard the medic sound so meek before. “Kix?”

“I’m not sure what’s the best way to explain this, General… but you’re pregnant.”

Oh.

Oh.

“H-how far along?”

“Looks like just over two months,” Kix shifts from foot to foot, pointedly not looking you in the eye. You can’t blame him for being uncomfortable, this isn’t quite the medicine he’d been expecting to practice. He was a combat medic not an obgyn. “We were able to get an ultrasound, would you like to see?”

Nodding, you sit up, your head now spinning for completely different reasons. Kix brings you a datapad displaying the grainy black and white image.

“Kix… am I seeing this right?”

“Yes, general.”

“There’s two…”

“Yes general. You’re having twins.”

Oh fuck.

.

Kix is a godsend, having worked with Anakin and Rex long enough to know reporting everything may not always be a good idea. The official report on your sudden collapse reads that you suffered from a foreign infection your body had not been prepared to fight, coupled with the battle fatigue, your body had shut down in order to force you to rest. Obi-wan and the council believe it, ordering you back to Coruscant to recover and rest. You knew you would have to tell them; it would not be long until you were showing, but you would much rather deal with the council in person than from your medbay bed.

Before your escort arrives, Kix slips you a disk with a copy of the ultrasound pictures, “in case there’s someone you want to show them to.”

“Thank you, Kix,” he blushes when you give him a quick peck on the cheek, “you’ve done more for me than you’ll ever know.”

You do your best to rest on your trip back to Coruscant but its incredibly difficult when your mind is going a parsec a minute. Besides the council there’s one other person you have to break the news to. While you two had talked about what life would be like for the two of you after the war, this was not something you had discussed. You were not sure if Wolffe wanted kids ever, let alone now. Having twins while the whole galaxy was at war was not ideal. Not when the two of you were expected to put your lives on the line for the Republic.

Panic washes over you when you arrive at the capital to find the wolfpack waiting for you on the tarmac. They’d just arrived back for some long overdue shore leave and Plo had informed them of your sudden illness. Normally you would be touched by how much they cared for you, but now all you can think about is how you are not ready to face Wolffe. Not yet.

You can feel his gaze heavy on your back as you field Sinker and Boost’s barrage of questions.

“I’ll be alright, I just need to take my medicine and get some rest. It shouldn’t be long before I’m right as rain again.” You hate lying to them, but you did not want them worrying unnecessarily either.

It seems to appease them; the pack wishes you well and invites you out to 79’s with them as soon as you’re recovered. Wolffe hangs back, watching his brothers go.

“I’ll walk you back, general.”

“No.” It comes out much harsher than you’d like. The surprise that washes over his face feels like a stab to your gut. “There’s no need, Commander. I’ll be alright.”

His voice drops, brow furrowed together, “cyare?”

“Not now, Wolffe,” you frown, “I just need to go lay down. We’ll talk later.”

But you don’t. You cannot find it in yourself to answer any of his calls or messages over the next few days. Instead, you wrap yourself up in as many blankets as possible and hole up in your quarters while you try to figure out what to do. You watch Coruscant go by from your window. It’s only when Sinker and Boost call that you’re freed from running around in circle inside your head.

“Boost? Sinker? What’s going on?”

“Oh thank goodness you’re alive, General!”

“Boost what are you going on about?”

“The Commanders been going crazy! He hasn’t heard from you in over a week and we don’t think he knows how to handle it!”

Although you and Wolffe did your best to keep your relationship hidden, in such tight quarters it was hard to keep it from Wolffe’s brothers. You’d never outright admitted it to them, but you figured they understood what was going on. You were glad for it now.

“I’ve seen him pace before, but never like this,” Sinker adds.

Oh Maker. “Where is he?”

“The barracks, General.”

“I… I’ll speak with him, alright? Hopefully that will calm him down.”

“Thank you, General! We were running out of ways to distract him!” That was the kind way of saying ways to annoy him to keep Wolffe’s mind off you.

“Thank you, Boost, Sinker.”

“Good luck, General!”

You were going to need it. This was not a conversation to have over the com so you make your way down to the barracks, doing your best to avoid attention when you can. It was not like you weren’t allowed there, but the last thing you needed was more questions.

Boost and Sinker were not lying about the pacing. Punching in the access code to his quarters reveals a tightly wound Wolffe, pacing back and forth across the length if the tight space. His armor has been haphazardly discarded around the room. You’re surprised he hasn’t worn a path into the floor yet.

“General?” Surprise and then relief fall over his face when he catches you standing in the doorway.

“Wolffe, I-”

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting.”

You’re thrown off by the sudden cold tone in his voice. “I-I came to explain, Wolffe… to apologize.”

“Apologize?”

“I’ve been avoiding you Wolffe,” your voice cracks despite your best efforts to remain calm, “and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, I just needed to find a way to tell you and I couldn’t.”

His frown deepens, “tell me what?”

“That I’m pregnant.”

“What?” He looks at you live you’ve grown another head.

“I’m pregnant, Wolffe.”

It takes him a moment to wrap his mind around your words, but you can see the instant he does, his mouth dropping into an ‘o’ as his jaw falls slack.

“You’re pregnant? With my… with my baby?”

“Babies,” you correct.

His brain seems to sputter out again, “babies?”

You nod, “twins.”

Before you can blink, he’s got you wrapped up in his arms, spinning you around the room. “Twins. You’re having twins.”

It takes everything you have not to start bawling. Kriffing hormones. You’ve never seen Wolffe this happy. This was beyond any reaction you could have imagined. The awe on his face when he sets you down makes your heart melt.

“This is why you were sent back? Your sudden illness?”

“Well yes… but Kix’s report was that I had an infection. I wanted to talk to your first before anyone else. I just didn’t know how.”

His warm hand oh-so-gently cups the side of your face. You lean into the touch. After even just a few weeks apart you’re starving for him.

“Why were you worried, cyare?”

“We’d never talked about kids. And we’re in the middle of a war. Not to mention we’re not even supposed to be together on the first place… I didn’t know how you’d react…”

His face softens, his amber eye drifting down to your nonexistent bump. “I’ll admit, I’m surprised. It may not be how either of us hoped, but it is a pleasant surprise.”

“Really?”

“Really, cyare.” You cannot help but smile as he pulls you in for a kiss. His lips slanting against your own as he holds you close. “I know there may be somethings we need to work out, but we’ll take it one step at a time,” he murmurs against your lips, hands tracing patterns across your back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

[bimbosupreme]

mephistopheles love post

the equivalent of a mental breakdown tangent is all going under a read more

yes believe it or not that freaky ass literally not even human clown in fgo gets love, and love from who? me and like 3 other people

first off

ok and with that out of the way,

i’m not even familiar with their lore. Reason why i stopped caring about the lore behind faust and mephistopheles is that an interlude happens that shows that mephistopheles is just some homunculi made by some mage nobody named faust. and even then the interlude doesn’t talk about the lore behind the novel, its just you helping mephy kill faust

that being said though i would hope the developers expand on their origins more and potentially even release a “true” mephistopheles (a girl can dream)

So, they’re not even the real deal demon known as Mephistopheles in the first place, and i can hear u going “well that’s lame” and like, no, we just need to redirect our feelings from appreciating a demon to appreciating a homunculi who has a weird characterization in the fate universe

Design tangent:

Fgo was actually my first gacha, and so when I came across this servant I kinda instantly fell in love with their design, I love the colors used in their final ascension and overall appearance. The hat that has horns but they're not quite horns, theyre these weird colorful pointy twisty things, the large garish butterfly ornament on their chest (which isnt ugly at all and somehow works so well with their everything on them) is cool, the tights are so cool to look at, i mean look -- a checkered pattern with golden lining on the shorts portion, the tits out look like yes we get it youre insane, the gloves??? purple and also cool, plus theyve got this gradient thing going on? and the fingers have this line going through them, thats so cool. actually the only other servant that comes close to this in terms of “out there” colorful designs is probably final ascension kama and qsh ( i love them both). Also, mephy has this scissor weapon?? thats so cool lol i dont see any other servant wielding giant scissors (for the love of god give mephy an animation update i need to see them use the scissors while doing flips) and they also have this bomb obsession going on? cant relate, but the bombs designs are so so cool i mean its a fucking centipede -- no idea if centipedes are a thing in the original faust but thats something Ill have to look up at some point. ALSO mephy is wearing heels oh my god anytime people wear heels is an automatic win. No clue whats going on with the hair but its kinda cute (dont question me on that) and it has curls and the hair colors are cool i mean its like a lavender thing with darker purple highlights? i love colorful things and i love people with wacky personalities so. Oh my god their tail how could i forget that its so cute and dumb i almost forgot it was there, like what is that even a whip? i dont.. but its got these little purple tips to them that are kinda cute/cool but more cool because tails are fucking up there alongside heels in terms of cool stuff on characters. and of course their fluffly cape -- again no idea what the designers were going for i mean look its a mess of a design i have no fucking idea what any of it means and i hope they explain it someday because that hair and the butterfly and the tail and the hat and the fluffy garb and a bomb obsession?? and this got the go ahead - yeah lets add that to the game like what

ALSO LETS TALK ABOUT THEIR EYES

appreciate these with me for a second

god.

oh and the blue lipstick and face paint god thats a cool design ugh

they can be normal too or at least as normal as possible i mean they even trimmed their eyebrow here lol but you can see the not so well hidden insanity/goofiness peaking through with the inside of the suit at the bottom being highlighter purple and a green shirt with gold accents underneath the black coat at the front <3, fuckin hate that hairstyle tho bro we gotta get that middle part hairstyle outta hereeeee--

TAKE A DETOUR AND LOOK AT THIS LINK THOUGH THIS IS THE MOST NORMAL AND BEST IVE SEEN THEM IN FANART. THE POTENTIAL IS THERE. WE CAN HAVE NICE THINGS AND THEY LOOK GREAT ITS POSSIBLE. I HAVE TEARS STREAMING DOWN MY FACE FROM THAT DRAWING.

anyways this is me going off all about why i like their design! but we haven’t even touched the nitty gritty of it all. their personality! what personality you may ask? havent they always been some weirdo laughing a lot and saying dumb shit all the time? well yes and no

Characterization:

True to their dumb little clown design mephy also acts like one.

Some servants bond 1 lines are like “fuck off” and some actually talk to you, nah this bastard mephistopheles’ just laughing. and for the second bond line it seems to imply theyre fuckin with you more (showing up and dissapearing and saying ‘afterimage’) so thats nice that theyre actually making some effort to mess with you in a way? some servants take a long time to actually interact with you so this shows theyre not afraid of interacting with you and thats just at bond 2. and of course the third bond line implies they were probably trying to betray you, its stated in more than 1 place that mephistopheles (actually isnt this a caster class thing?) will betray you or attempt to do so. So the third bond line seems to imply that their attempts have been stopped by you and that’s what they say after some failed attempts. So after stopping this freak from doing some shit their next bond line is actually doing a confession! a jester being honest who couldve seen that one coming but theyre 100% not lying, they really arent a demon but a homunculi made by faust

speaking of faust we’re going to backtrack a little into their interlude that i brought up at the start of this post, its one of those dream interludes and it starts with mephy asking you to help him plant bombs for their eventual reuinion/showdown with faust -- in the meantime faust keeps sending golems in an attempt to kill both you and mephy

When you track faust down, it’s shown that faust was your typical mage, inhumane and uncaring. It’s also pointed out that this faust killed innocents, but this typical mage behavior is boring to mephy, and they say that boring typical behavior is why they wanted to kill them

 so i really cant blame mephistopheles for being the way they are, being raised by this type of guy, even if mephy was always messed up and wacky from the beginning its no reason for faust to attempt to kill him.

Mephistopheles also shows up in salem, cu alter’s interlude, and of course the knk crossover event, and some other things im most likely forgetting but those 3 are ones that i find notable

anytime they show up theyre actually helpful, in salem mephy points out that the nature of the being responsible for the salem epic of remnant is something alien rather than a typical foreign god, mephy also tells you that time is also being sped up and in their weird way they try to cheer you up by spouting some nonsense at the beginning (guda needed some kind of distraction from the grim events that had just transpired at that point in the story), i cant quite remember what mephy did in the knk event but they were a part of your group and were helpful the whole time, actually @/zeravmeta does an amazing analysis of their role in the knk event as well as some extra character analysis here

mephistopheles is kinda cryptic in a weird way though,

like overall i mean theyre a jester homunculi in appearance so yeah its to be expected but come on i love morally gray characters, despite their supposed betrayal hints scattered around here and there

they have this one line that always gets to me

and this line is said with a completely serious face too

the rare serious mephistopheles face! its kinda grim to see that line, no laughs, no nothing, their voice is kinda serious and monotone too. of course this could be just to get you to lower your guard but its still kinda out there that they have this rarely used portrait and that line, so i like to take it as being said to you when youre by yourself and with sincerity

and at least sei (with her wacky outfit and all lol) seems to get along with mephy and thinks theyre nice woohoo

so at the end of the day you have this guy that laughs a lot and gives mixed signals

and they fuck with you

and will most likely try to kill you more than once but hey thats just another tuesday at chaldea

Before I finish last thing I want to point out is this snippet from the fgo source material book which provides more information on servants, and this specific translated bit under mephistopheles

at the core of it all this homunculi....can be your friend! you just need to not go into despair i guess

of course this entire post is an overanalysis into an underwritten character, quarantine + all online college classes have done this to me, i have a douman icon what did you expect

OH...BEFORE I REALLY SIGN OFF AND FINISH THE POST HEY CLOWN LOVERS CHECK OUT THESE FANARTS AND FANARTISTS...

THE FIRST ONE IS HASENDOW YES THE DOUMAN DESIGNER... <3

i cant believe they drew mephy

twice !

and for those of you on twitter check out @cuz_pb and @L0VEYAMA003

[lunaralight09]

Could you do books that the scps might read?

Books that the SCPs might read

SCP 035 Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins Anna is shipped off to boarding school in Paris where she meets the super-charming Etienne, and that's when things get interesting. I was a squealing, giggly, mush-fest all the while through reading this book. Stephanie Perkins knows just how to turn a seemingly ordinary love story into an unputdownable read. SCP 040 Your Brain Needs a Hug: Life, Love, Mental Health, and Sandwiches Just the title of this book by Rae Earl makes us feel a little lighter. And we don’t know about you, but our brains could definitely use a hug right now. While the book is geared towards teens, we found Earl’s advice to be relevant for all ages — particularly for anyone who struggles with depression, anxiety, social media addiction, and self-esteem issues. TBH, pretty much anyone can benefit from this book! SCP 049 And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini And the Mountains Echoed is such an amazing and heartwarming read. It's about a pair of siblings that fate cruelly separates and then finally reunites. A must-read for its simple yet gripping narration and amiable characters. SCP 049-j The Red Notebook by Antoine Laurain This is a French romance novella, and basically a love letter to book lovers. There's mystery, romance, and some of the most beautifully crafted sentences and paragraphs I have ever read. The ending is so sweet, even though you wonder how you ever got there so soon. SCP 053 Lulu and the Rabbit Next Door by Hilary McKay Lulu and her cousin help their neighbor Arthur learn to love and care for his (neglected) rabbit. She doesn’t want her neighbor to feel bad so she writes the rabbit little notes with helpful gifts signed from her own pet rabbit named Thumper. It’s a kind way to show Arthur how to take care of his new pet SCP 073 HumanKind: Changing the World One Small Act At a Time Looking for heart-warming stories of kindness and compassion? HumanKind by Brad Aronson was made for you. But the book isn’t only full of uplifting stories that will move you to happy tears, it’s also packed with practical and actionable tips for how to be kinder in your everyday. One thing is for sure: after you put this book down, you’ll feel inspired to do something nice for someone else. And because of that, we think this is one of the best books on the planet! SCP 076 Do Unto Animals We absolutely DEVOURED this book by Tracey Stewart. Whether you’re looking for tips on how to better understand skunks and squirrels or read your pet’s body language, every page is full of compassionate wisdom about to treat animals in a way that they deserve. Also, the illustrations are absolutely beautiful — we nearly wanted to pet the pages because the animal drawings were so lovable. SCP 079 Walden (Henry David Thoreau) With the outdoorsman renaissance happening as we speak, it is nice to look back at one of the books that probably started it. Walden isn’t the bore you read back in middle school, it takes time to appreciate like a nice bottle of red. Thoreau’s masterpiece tackles so much while quietly nudging your brain into activity. It also makes you want to build a cabin SCP 096 Black Beauty by Anna Sewell Told from the perspective of the horse, this story is so beautifully written that it's easy to get lost in it's pages. I laughed and cried, as did my daughter when she read it. SCP 105 Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury Warm and fuzzy the whole way through, Dandelion Wine is by far the best story to make you feel good. Though I'm not the correct age to directly relate to the young adult story, I still felt the warm summer days and the wonder of it all. SCP 106 Catch-22 – Joseph Heller “War is hell,” is the old adage we all know, but Catch-22 looks to modify that a bit. Instead, war becomes super goddamn weird. The book follows a bomber squadron in the Second World War whose collective sanity is slowly being eroded by whatever passes for power. Throughout it all, the main character keeps trying to prove himself insane enough to be kicked out of the Navy, which is precisely why he can’t

be kicked out. Which is a catch 22 and yes, this is where the phrase comes from. It’s a great extrapolation of quirks and idiosyncrasies we see in day to day life, only this time, they’re affecting war SCP 134 (I know she don't have eyes . But there is a books for blind people) A Mango-Shaped Space by Wendy Mass A Mango-Shaped Space is about a 13-year-old girl with synesthesia (she can see, taste, and hear colors) and her journey in getting a diagnosis and accepting herself and all her differences. It's sort of a coming-of-age story, too. As someone with multiple chronic illnesses who has gone through the same process at the same age, this really was an incredible reading experience. One of my favorite quotes is "We all do the best we can, trying to keep all the balls in the air at once." I recommend it to everyone. SCP 173 Rabbit, Run (John Updike) The greatest mid-life crisis novel of all time doesn’t actually deal with a mid-life crisis at all. Harry “Rabbit” Angstrom is 26 when he decides to leave his wife and son for a new life. Of course, what that new life is, and what exactly he wants out of it isn’t clear to the reader or to Rabbit himself. It will strike a cord with all men who struggle with the idea of settling down. SCP 239 The Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling SCP 682 THE WOLF AND THE WATCHMAN BY NIKLAS NATT OCH DAG If you're the kind of person that can't get enough of Scandi noir films, TV shows and literature, then Niklas Natt och Dag's The Wolf And The Watchman should be next on your reading list. Set in 18th-century Stockholm, this tale is as dark as it gets, following the titular watchman and a detective as they hunt down the killer behind a dismembered corpse that appears in a local pond. As gruesome as it is gripping, it's the perfect literary companion as the nights get longer and increasingly eerie. SCP 847 The Case Against Satan by Ray Russell Two priests are called in to examine a girl who might be possessed by the devil. The Exorcist, right? Nope, it’s Ray Russell‘s The Case Against Satan, a novel of theological horror that beat William Peter Blatty’s book to print by eight years. The Case Against Satan is as much the story of a crisis of faith as it is a supernatural tale, and readers looking for a nuanced take on both should give it a try SCP 953 THE PILLOW BOOK BY SEI SHŌNAGON If you want to learn a bit more about the Japan of the past – and also, weirdly, all of us in the present – The Pillow Book is a cult classic you should absolutely try. Sei Shōnagon was a lady-in-waiting in the court of Empress Teishi in the year 1000 and here she collects her thoughts and musings about court life. To read a woman more than 1,000 years ago being as philosophical, neurotic and scandalous as anyone is today on social media is a thrill that lasts from the start to the end. SCP 1678 Memoirs of a Geisha by Arthur Golden Absolutely moving, the struggles Sayuri faces are painted so beautifully by Arthur Golden's masterful craft that you totally empathize with her as she grows and triumphs in a world designed to see her fail. The ultimate conclusion of the novel fills me with such warmth — it's both entirely unexpected and wholeheartedly appreciated.

[morimakesfanart]

Sindria's Prophet #13

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

[AO3]

((edited because I figured out to add some more history facts that I think are important))

~POV Sinbad~

"The Kou Empire, huh?"

"That is going to make things risky."

With all of the Generals caught up with what happened in Balbadd, they needed to start planning for King Sinbad's trip to the Kou Empire, as well as catching him up with everything that had happened in Sindria while he was gone.

"LadY YamuRAI H AA AA A" A yell came from the hallway accompanied by the sounds of running.

((Sinbad is hidden on the left. There's a hint of him poking out.))

A panting magician gave apologies for disturbing their meeting and ran to the head of Sindria's magicians. "I wish I knew you were here so I didn't search the tower first~" Then he started explaining about some magical proof. Most of his words sounded like gibberish to the rest, but it was clear that he had made some kind of break though.

Yam jumped out of her seat. "How did you finally figure it out?! Who figured it out?!" She whipped her head to her King, "Sorry your majesty," and then looked back to the other magician.

"It was the work of the Prophet!” the magician answered. "We were talking about her illness and she pulled out scrolls that- you just have to read them for yourself!”

Mori had said that she had written other scrolls before she started coping down Fate. This must have been what she was working on.

Both magicians bowed out to go test out this new information. Before they could leave, Sinbad ended the meeting; there was no way he was going to wait to learn what other information Mori had blessed them with. Ja'far followed as did a few of the other Generals.

When they got into the court yard, the doctors that had been sent to take care of Mori were already pushing their supply cart back to their main building. The magician that had stayed behind spotted them and raised two scrolls up triumphantly. "She let me take the scrolls!"

---

News of the scrolls written by a Prophet spread throughout the Black Libra Tower within an hour. Yamuraiha and the doctors explained their significance to King Sinbad.

If even a fraction of the theories in the scrolls proved true it would completely changed their understanding of how illnesses work. If Mori wasn't sick she would undoubtedly be swarmed with questions and demands for proof. According to the magicians, nothing in the scrolls went against any known information. Instead, they gave explanations to why certain things that had been attempted in the past had failed. What she wrote about 'cells' was what really caught the eyes of the white magicians and doctors. As an example, according to Mori's writing there were blood types and most couldn't mix; that would explain why most past attempts at blood transfusions had failed.

The 2nd scroll showed a break down of even smaller particles, and how the structures of different particles made up everything. This was going to bring alchemic magic to a whole new era. Sure, such things would most likely be limited to high magicians, group efforts, and the Magi, but it looked possible now. A lot of common magic of the current day took extreme amounts of magoi in the past because they hadn't found the right formula yet. Mori's writing -if true- could easily be used as a guide to finding the right order of commands for many spells.

And even more than that, Mori had said that she had even more information to share; she had just ran out of scrolls and ink.

Mori's presence in Sindria, and everything that went with it were Fate and the Rukh's guidance. King Sinbad could see it -the future he wanted.

---

~POV Mori~

In Sindria's Palace there is a Great Bell. It is rung during celebrations, and to signify the King returning home like it did earlier that day, but it's main use was to ring every 2 hours to tell everyone the time since clocks weren't invented yet. So even though I was a sick person trying to rest during the day, I was woken up by the Great Bell every 2 hours... which of course is also situated right on top of the guest tower.

For obvious reasons, I was awake again.

I wish I knew how the others responded to the scrolls. I really wanted to know Yam's opinion most. Those scrolls basically gave away the secret to Yunan's signature alchemy magic.

I still had the first scroll I had worked on -the one on the science behind blimps-, and the last science scroll I had started. That one was on DNA, and reproductive systems. It was the last one I started in Balbadd. I hadn't started working on it until sunrise on my 2nd sleepless night and it showed; there were missing words everywhere, many incomplete sentences, and I couldn't stay in topic.

These mistakes were too great to fix with an ink knife. Editing was going be super annoying and time consuming since I couldn't work digitally. I'd have to physically cut up the first draft to put everything in the right order before making the next one.

Wait- Did this world have scissors???

Back home the first evolution of shears that could be labeled as scissors was in Roman barber shops in the last hundred years or so before Rome fell. China would spontaneous also create something akin to scissors not long after. Reim and the Kou Empire seemed to line up with Rome and ancient China for the most part, so I tend to use them to place the time period, but the dress Princess Dunya wears is centuries off and throws all historical accuracy questions out the window. Rome was long gone by the time boning was added to women's undergarments, and that dress had all the signs of boned corsetry.

Fuck it. I'll ask for scissors and if they don't have them I'll just invent them myself. I had been drafting professionally for the past 4 years. That may have been for microelectronics, but it uses all the same skills; I could do this. I needed to get a ruler -or at least a straight edge- and a drafting compass which they probably have based on the look of maps in the series, and pencils, or at least colored inks if they had them. I probably needed to reinvent the French curve(stencil tool used in art & drafting)...

Since I was struggling to fall back asleep I moved to the table and pulled out my test scroll. It was full of random marks and some of my early drawing attempts that I used to practice with the dip pen -it's also where I wrote down the dreams from the Rukh. I'd write the list of things I needed, rip the section out of the scroll, and pass the list to someone who could get me what I was asking for. I added some living necessities too like sleep wear and a comb.

The maids that came to give me dinner, and next dose of medicine were not pleased that I wasn't in bed -I was an important guest who was sick after all. And I wasn't pleased to have to drink more of that bitter medicine, but we can't have nice things all the time, now can we?

My voices was strained but I managed to communicate enough. I gave them my list, and laundry (the clothes I wore on the boat) before they left. They'd get me the things the next day. I was instructed to sleep until someone brings me breakfast the next day... which is what I was going to do anyway since the sun was practically gone. I might be a bit of a workaholic but I'm not going to let myself pull an accidental all-nighter when I know I'm still sick. I'm far more self aware than that.

And besides, the Great Bell didn't ring at night.

---

Maids brought my breakfast (& meds) the next morning and let me know that my clothes would be cleaned and dry by the end of the day. I guess they didn't use magic for everything.

They also gave me all of the drafting and inking supplies I asked for except for scissors. In one of the omakes Sinbad was shown cutting his hair with a knife as a part of his normal grooming. I had hoped he was just old fashioned.

For the greater good and the future of my own hair care, I drafted up detailed designs for a few different types of basic scissors. They wouldn't look fancy, but hopefully I had put enough of a detailed explanation on everything for the smith to figure out what I was asking. Steel wasn't developed until the middle ages and some of the counties of this world matched that so I hoped

that God and anime were on my side. I really wanted scissors that would be a good quality.

And if that didn't work I'd just have to get used to using knives and bladed rollers like a regular person.

The Great Bell rung for 10 am. There were at least another 2 hours before someone would show up, to give lunch, that I could ask to take my draft for the scissors to a black Smith.

I should be resting as a sick person. I should be more exhausted and in pain as a sick person. What was making me recover this quickly?

I still didn't feel like laying back down, so I decided to start drafting up the materials and equipment for proving everything I had written in the scrolls I gave the previous day.

Globally, micro-organisms, viruses, and bacteria were not really accept or proved until the late 1800's. Since Magi seems to take place some time around our 100AD-1300, and Yunan hinting at chemical compounds was seen as shocking by Yam, I knew that my bio scrolls were probably causing an uproar in the Black Libra Tower. I refused to use actual people or wait for an outbreak to prove it like how it happened in history -like how John Snow proved it when finding the cause of cholera outbreaks in 1848 and 1854 England. No, I needed to show how to prove these things in a lab, and to do that I was going to need to explain how to keep samples and invent a way to see microorganisms.

First was for a glass petri dish and other containers for samples. I'd need at least 3 -preferably more. I know glass works have been around since BC, and that this world had glass windows in some scenes, but I worried about the quality of the glass contaminating the experiments. I was going to have to boil them beforehand to sterilize them anyway.

Gosh I wish I had access to nonporous, air tight containers, and a temperature controlled environment. The heat and humidity of Sindria could easily mess everything up.

Wait... I suddenly remembered a scene from the Magnostadt arc when they showed how a sample was being stored. They already had good enough glass. I knew there were magic bio experiments but I had no idea how they worked.

With the realization that I was getting ahead myself, I switched to writing about how to use the scientific method to test for germs. It was basically the bread in a bag test to teach young children about germs but with petri dishes. I also wrote about how to analyze samples with a microscope to see micro organisms so I was going to have to figure that out next.

Lunch came as the perfect break.

Just thinking about reinventing this thing made me nervous. I knew magnifying glasses existed in ancient Rome, but they would be nothing like what I was used to. I had to explain how light moves and made multiple diagrams showing how concave and convex lenses affect light as well as the material of the lens. I ended up also showing how to make a telescope even though I knew Yam already had one.

Magicians were the only ones shown with glasses. Maybe now the rest of the world could have them too.

4 o'clock came and so did 3 doctors and a magician. It was less than yesterday, but still more than necessary to treat or analyze one person. I only recognized one of the doctors from the previous day. All of the new faces looked nervous. None of them looked young by any measure, so I really doubted this was their first time treating someone.

They weren't happy to see me at the table and made me return to my bed -their loss.

The doctor from the previous day was the one doing most of the talking. "Your recovery is amazing. You will most likely be better in another 3 days at this rate if not sooner. It's practically a miracle."

I smiled. "It's pretty shocking for me too." As long as I spoke quietly and kept my comments short, I found I could talk again for a bit.

The doctor was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "I know you need rest, but would you be willing to answer a few questions about those scrolls from yesterday?

The 3 other men looked expectant. This was why they were here.

"I don't mind as long as you don't make me talk too much."

Then came the question I was expecting since I had first made the scrolls. "I know you are a Prophet and the information came from your visions but is there any way you can prove what you wrote?"

I pointed to the table with the scroll I had started earlier. "I can't prove it with the current equipment I have, so I've been drafting up the needed equipment and processes for proving it."

They all turned to look at where I was pointing.

I added, "It's not done, but you're welcome to read what I have so far."

I was thanked as they went to the table they had called me away from when they entered.

'He called it 'visions?' Really?' I had to ask Sinbad later what he was telling his people about me so I could keep the story straight.

The magician confirmed for the others what I wrote about light bending. There was magic to do that, but not everyone is a magician. I had just invented a way for non-magicians to bend light.

Just wait until I show them a prism that can split light into colors. Or teach them how light is perceived in the eye. Or even better, show them the double slit experiment that proves that light is a particle not just a wave... Did they know light was a wave yet?

"Lady Prophet."

I was pulled out of my thoughts.

"You said this isn't finished and there is plenty of space in this scroll for more, but would you let us take this back to the tower so we can get started?"

I wanted to say 'no.' I was still coming up with things to add to it, but I also knew that holding things back because I wanted to save paper was a fool's game. Besides, I could always add more to it later.

I nodded and they thanked me before making me promise not to leave my bed. They were grateful for this new scroll but not at the expense of my health -they were doctors after all.

And then they left.

It was probably about 5pm if my internal clock was on schedule, so I had about an hour before the next ring of the Bell.

Even if I wasn't a man of my word, I would have lost the motivation to work with my current project taken from me while I was still in the middle of making it.

So, I did the thing I grew up doing when I was bedridden from illness: I looked out the window. From the bed I could only see the tops of the buildings on the other side of the courtyard. The Tower that was just poking in from the left had to be the Black Libra Tower.

The waves in Sindria were calmer yet stronger than those in Balbadd. It was probably due to Sinbad's influence. He brought stability and security to his people. I could understand why so many chose to follow him or ally with him. But I knew where all this would lead. As he obtains more power and influence he will stop being able to see himself from the pedestal that he and everyone else put him on; his greed will make him blind to the wants and needs of others, and like a middle aged parent that isn't ready for their child to leave the nest he will take out his frustration on the world that was moving on without him. When Sinbad dies at the end of the manga, Drakon realizes that they all put too much on Sinbad's shoulders.

To change Fate, I was going to have to make sure I never put him on that pedestal nor rely on him for much. And I was going to have to convince the 8 Generals to do the same -or at least to start pulling more of the weight.

The 6 o'clock Bell came faster than I expected, as well as my dinner not long after. They brought my clean laundry, a sleeping gown, and some other common clothes and things for my convenience.

I would have preferred something much shorter for the night gown since I hate having a lot of extra fabric around my legs when I already have blankets. I was not going to risk being walked in on by doctors or whoever when sleeping naked, so I would make do for now.

There was no way King Sinbad wasn't going to reward me for those scrolls. If it was some kind of treasure I'd sell it and buy a new wardrobe for myself that actually suited me, and if the reward was a request then I would ask that he pay for everything directly.

The light coming in my windows changed, and I watched my 2nd sunset in Sindria.

When Sinbad found this island 10 years ago, he completely terraformed it. He didn't get rid of all of the vegetation that was here, but he did break down one of the sides to allow for easier access by boat. The side he carved out faced northish towards all of the other known countries, so no boat would have a reason to circle the island. It was a decision that would benefit the merchants and make it easier to defend.

It also meant that my windows faced west, so I could watch the Sun set every day. I couldn't help but see that as a blessing and a curse. Sure not getting the sunrise meant I'd need to put more effort into

waking up in the morning but that wasn't the part I was worried about.

See- The thing is... I have synesthesia (having 2 or more senses overlapping). I see sounds, letters, and numbers as colors and textures. I have it mild enough that I can normally block it out so it's not too distracting (thank God because music is a main stim), but sometimes I'll hear something and get overwhelmed by how it looks.

Each letter and number is a color. So every voice can make every color, but language, pitch, tone, and accent all affect the colors and textures I see from a person's voice like a filter. There have definitely been some people that I struggled to give my full attention to when I first met them because I was entranced by how their voice looked. The more I hear a person's voice the more I'm able to move its visuals to the background so I can focus -desensitizing myself to it.

Luckily, Sinbad's voice is normally not so distracting that I stop paying attention. Since it's like a merger of every voice actor I've heard play him (All the characters I had met so far were like this.) I'm already desensitized. The similarities across all of the VAs meant that his voice looked like a sunset -full of deep purples and magentas, and bright reds, peach, and gold, and with a smooth and flowing texture like painting in acrylic with a wet brush -like a painting of the last moments of a sunset.

His voice was as pretty as he was.

I hadn't actually gotten to see or hear him for a whole day. But I'd get to look at his voice's equivalent every day while living under his protection.

It was frustrating to admit -I barely knew him as a real person- yet I couldn't deny that I missed him. I feel asleep watching the sun set.

((I wasn't going to write about my synesthesia, but this is my fanfic and I thought it might be fun to reference the colors peoples voices make when the characters talk. I'm not going to paint every VA and head cannon, but I will describe them as I go. Ja'far's Japanese and English VAs have voices that look very different so finding the middle ground is proving tricky.

Also, anyone who noticed that the purple I see in Sinbad's voice is the same as the purple I've been using for the illustrations and comics is super smart and cool.))