#useless skills from working in theater

[icaruskeyartist]

Want something in between squishy soft HD and TL whump rn so here we go with some clone au shenanigans. Anyway, for shits and giggles, Moon gets to join security patrol at night before he's infected cause why not? He gets so little as the naptime attendant.

The first time you meet Moon it's because you managed to get locked inside the pizzaplex after hours. It takes you a minute to process that you're locked in, sort of blankly staring at the metal shutters keeping you inside.

"It's past your naptime," a voice says from behind you in a low, almost hissing manner, and you jump, lashing out with one of your crutches reflexively. Honestly, it'd be more accurate to say you lashed out with your arm, and the crutch just followed, attached as it was to said arm. Either way, it hit your target with a jarring metallic thunk that vibrated all the way up to your shoulder and teeth, rattling you.

Meanwhile, your would-be assaulter swings back and forth on its wire, dramatically holding its chest. "I've been had!" He drops to the ground, clearly "dying" from the blow.

You scowl when you recognize Moon from its posters, leaning on your other crutch. When you make no effort to respond to his theater, he sits up, watching you with mismatched eyes. "You shouldn't be here."

You just stare. You know this already, so what's the point of it telling you?

"You're the one that doesn't speak." Moon leans forward, over you, menacing in its height. You stare up at it blankly before using a crutch to push it back. You're not gentle. Moon rolls away, tucking into a ball instead of giving a proper backflip. It still pops up dramatically, like a gymnast giving their final bow, and you roll your eyes.

The Daycare Attendant is a jester. You really shouldn't be surprised by the dramatics. You just don't think it would be particularly amused if it knew the last time you actually laughed.

"You are skilled with your sword," Moon says, its tone teasing as it inches closer, safely out of range. "I'll need maintenance soon if you don't leave."

You gesture at the shuttered doors in irritated response. It's not like you want to be standing here being semi-lectured by a robotic nanny. You're tired and confused and your feet hurt and you are pretty sure you missed the bus that usually picks you up to go home. You're going to have to email them and it took forever to get an email back because it's a publicly funded service and meanwhile Uber and Lyft are so expensive so what money you earn will be gone so, so quickly.

"Hey." A metallic finger brushes over your cheek and you jump, landing badly and falling directly on your ass. Now everything hurts, and you let out a choked breath, unstrapping one crutch to wipe hard at your eyes.

Moon crouches, a hand out but not touching. You lean away, and its hand drops. "You need rest. A drink. There is tea in the employee break room."

Tea? You wipe your eyes again, not even trying to move. It would be useless until your nerves calm a bit and you can try to ease the tension in your muscles. It's the stress making you hurt, you tell yourself. Just the stress, nothing more.

"Let's get you tea." And it moves in before you have a chance to defend yourself, scooping you up with ease. You grab at it's shoulder, fingers failing to find a grip as it walks with a long, surprisingly smooth gait to the atrium. You grab at its collar but are still ignored.

Finally, you get the idea to tug on Moon's nightcap. The tail of it swing around behind, and you figured it would work like Sun's rays, jerking Moon's head back so you couldn't be ignored any longer. Instead it just. Came off. Like a hat. Leaving Moon bald.

You were so surprised you actually dropped it and stared over Moon's shoulder at the abandoned crutch and hat. A trail of items like Hansel and Gretel's bread crumbs. Did that make Moon the witch, and the tea its gingerbread house?

Moon continued on, oblivious to the loss of its hat, and you finally just go with it. You could probably limp your way back to your crutch later, after whatever adventure you were being kidnapped to do. Moon continues right on past the glamrocks' dressing rooms, utterly ignored by the bandmates.

The attendant looks so different from the others. Was it even meant to be here?

The final goal, apparently, is a small lounge you'd never seen. Moon puts you down gently enoufh, but even that jostles you and you grimace, resettling on this overly plush, threadbare, ugly orange couch tucked by the vending machines. Moon is working, poking around the cabinets as it hums a lullaby, then a song you don't recognize. You're not going anywhere soon, so you slowly unstrap your remaining crutch from your arm, still holding the handle just in case.

Moon found a box and mug, its song punctuated with pleased delight. Apparently the water cooler was also a heater, and the animatronic's attention was fully back on you. "Drink this."

You breathe heavily through your nose in response, but you do take the mug. It's warm. And the tea does smell good. Mint and something else. You don't know much about tea. You take a sip, scalding your lips and tongue. The burning liquid feels good though, warming you even if it doesn't ease the stress holding you stuff. You take another sip, watching Moon over the lip of the mug.

Is it aware of how silly it looks without its hat? It squats a safe distance away, watching you, its flat face slowly rotating like a clock. Before it could get a full 90 degrees it paused and began to rotate the other way. Was it… thinking? Processing?

Either way, it felt weird to be sitting while it squatted like that. Maybe you were anthropomorphizing it too much, but you pat at the seat next to you. When it doesn't move, even its head slowing its rotation, you pat the seat harder. "You are sure? I don't wish to incur the wrath of your blade again."

The fact it still is playing the villain in some knight story? Whatever. You roll your eyes and nod, returning to the tea. It's kinda nice. You can almost (almost) forget what a pain it's gonna be to get home.

Moon does sit, surprisingly careful so you don't immediately roll into his space. He's still heavy, so you're drawn in regardless, trying not to spill your tea. You keep drinking, the silence only punctuated by the humming of the fridge and water cooler. If you focus on that and the warmth of your tea… you're starting to drift off.

Wait. This had been a trick! You try to glare at Moon, but all you can manage is a yawn.

Moon, for its part, is grinning down at you. Like, beyond its usual frozen smile type of grinning. "You've figured it out, haven't you?" He teaches past you, snagging your crutch. You try to protest, but it's faster, and it sets it just out of reach. "Nap time. You need rest."

Like you weren't going to sleep when you got home. And your painkillers are there too!" You've definitely been kidnapped. But it's not an especially cruel kidnapping. Minus when you wake up.

"Sleep," Moon says and you're not sure you will truly, but you will rest, and you will make fun of how he looks without his hat later. For now you'll sleep and worry about the rest later.

---

@pillowspace I feel like a cat bringing you my latest catch with pride. I'm glad you're enjoying it. I hope to keep writing well. v.v

[red-balloon12]

Phantom Headcanons!

(Note that all of my versions of the Battle Egos….and basically all egos in general, aren’t inherently related in any aspect. They are they’re own individual creations. Also these H/Cs are self indulgent as hell so warning-)

General H/Cs

Name: Phantom

Age: 30 (Yes, I’m making him younger than Mare-)

Species: Incubus

Sexuality/Romantic Orientation: Pansexual/Biromantic/Demiromantic

Specific H/Cs

Dramatic af

Theater nerd (his favorite musical is Hade’s Town)

Phantom likes classical music but he’s a SLUT for electro-swing/punk-swing

He doesn’t actually do deals all that often and the ones he DOES do are performance related deals.

His powers comes from himself and his cane is really just to hone in his abilities (like Thor)

His cane is still his prized possession. He doesn’t let many people touch it and he goes almost everywhere with it.

Phantom hand writes all of his contracts with an ink feather for the aesthetic.

Phantom doesn’t actually take pleasure in soul stealing. It’s mostly a means to an end for him. But he WILL take pleasure in it if he can’t stand the client.

He DOES find a lot of his clients as well as the process of deal making amusing as it shows the length humans go through to fulfill their dreams.

When he’s not soul stealing and making contracts, he often likes to do sorcery or perform at his bar.

He’s good at playing the violin.

Dude HATES the sound of the banjo. (He doesn’t like country music in general.)

Phantom has a big and yet very fragile ego and he flaunts himself as a defense mechanism.

At first he found Natemare’s “hatred�� of him adorable. He always taunted him about it which made Mare frustrated, to Phan’s amusement. Over time though, Mare started to work on himself and no worry about Phantom which in turn made Phantom uneasy. So he started to show off more which eventually made Mare fuss over him again.

The reasons why Phantom was uneasy when Mare stopped worrying about him was because he’s not used to people not fawning over him so suddenly, it makes him actually doubt his performance skills and he both admires and envy Mare’s want to make a name for himself because Phantom had already subconsciously accepted all of the labels people have pushed onto him. He feels…useless if he’s not making people scream for him and he HATES that Mare doesn’t need his validation to make him happy. (….they both has self worth issues-)

Phantom knows Mare has a crush on him. He finds it amusing when Mare acts like a tsundere and those feelings may or may not be reciprocated-

Despite him having a crush on Mare he does find Jackaboy hot af

Him and Actor!Mark are bitter exes tho

Phantom, Janus Sanders and Wilford Warfstash are all good friends.

He has a soft spot for the Bendy franchise.

His favorite animals are snakes and cats (specifically bombay/black cats).

At some point in his life he took one pole dance class and never looked back.

And these are all of my Phantom head canons for now. If you guys want me to do an spicy version of the bois’s list I’ll gladly make it. Otherwise my next list will either be a PhantoMare ship h/c list or an h/c list for Pumpkin.

(Just a note: I don’t normally do this but if you liked this list then please check out my Natemare Headcanon list since there’s lore there that connects to Phantom’s lore)

[jujumin-translates]

[A3!] ★ Main Story | Act 14 - DREAM CATCHER | Episode 6 - Relaxation Research

Kazunari: Yes, yes… Ahh, I see~. Roger that. For now, I’ll make those revisions and send it back to you~...

Kazunari: Yes, goodbye.

*Beep*

Kazunari: Haahh…

Kazunari: (Another no-go~... I think that’s like the fifth time.)

Kazunari: (I knew things would be different from when I was a student, but all this criticism is starting to take a toll on my self-confidence~.)

Kazunari: (I know I went to art school and all, but that was for Japanese painting, so I’m basically entirely self-taught when it comes to design.)

Kazunari: (I feel like my lack of knowledge of the fundamentals is holding me back.)

Kazunari: (I’ve been able to make things work so far because the people who already know me well enough have asked me to do what I’m good at, but…)

Kazunari: (If I wanna be able to meet the wide range of expectations of a bigger client base, doing the same thing I’ve always done probably isn’t gonna work out.)

Kazunari: (Maybe I should seriously brush up on my design skills again~.)

Kazunari: Design… Course… Advanced…

Kazunari: (“Online Courses”, “Design Study Abroad”... There sure are a lot of ‘em~.)

*Door opens*

Muku: I’m home.

Kazunari: Welcome backsies~.

Muku: Ah, sorry, are you in the middle of work?

Kazunari: It’s all good. You’re home early today, Mukkun.

Muku: I think I’m going to go take a walk and look around Veludo Way.

Muku: I know some of the new theater troupes have been doing street acts there lately, so I thought it might be informative to watch some of them.

Kazunari: Gotcha~, I think I’ll tag along and take a little break then!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Muku: There are new theater troupes all over the place.

Muku: Some of them focus on theatrical plays, some focus on dance or physical expression, some of them specialize in musicals…

Muku: And then there are some unusual ones, like a cross between cooking and theater, or a cross between muscle training and theater…

Kazunari: Maybe their aim is just to differentiate themselves from the other troupes, but regardless, there’s still a lotta unexpected and exciting things~.

Kasumi: Oh? Muku-kun and Kazunari-kun?

Muku: Hello!

Kazunari: You out shopping, Kasumiinu?

Kasumi: I am. I was just at the bookstore. Today’s the release date of “The Saintess is Omitted”. Do you read it too, Muku-kun?

Muku: Ah! That’s right, the release date was today! Of course, I read it!

Muku: I’ve been following the standard storyline of the saintess up to now, and it’s been really interesting to see the surprising turn of events that caused the tables to be turned completely.

Muku: And I really love the charm of heroines who are more hero-like!

Muku: I never would’ve imagined I’d forget about the release date… How did I forget about it…?

Muku: My memory’s as useless as eraser dust…

Kazunari: Things have been pretty hectic lately~. It’s not your fault.

Kasumi: Is the troupe doing okay? Things must be rough with the new Fleur Award and all.

Kazunari: We’re all working our hardest to come up with a plan~. Spring Troupe’s performance was a hit and our rank went up.

Muku: We’re a little anxious, but Summer Troupe is going to try our best too!

Kasumi: I see. I’m sure all of you in Summer Troupe will do just fine.

Kasumi: Ah, right. I have something I wanted to give you, Muku-kun.

Muku: ?

*Paper rustles*

Kasumi: This is a flyer for an upcoming play, and since the leading role is a prince, I couldn’t help but think of you, Muku-kun.

Kasumi: It’s a performance with a long history, and it’s performed at the National Theater with a different cast every year.

Kasumi: I know it might be none of my business, but I’m sure it’d be wonderful to see you standing at position zero as a prince up on such a big stage, Muku-kun.

Muku: B-But I’m not sure I’m capable of taking on a role as big as the lead in an outside performance yet…!

Kasumi: I don’t think that’s true at all. I think you’re definitely capable of being on a stage like that one.

Kazunari: You have tons of experience, Mukkun. Dontcha think that’s why Kasumiinu told you about it in the first place~?

Muku: T-Thank you very much. I feel a little more confident in myself when you put it like that.

Muku: I’ll try and look into the stage too.

Kasumi: Okay. Well then, bye.

*Kasumi walks away*

Muku: …

Muku: (“Audition Notice”, huh… I wonder if I can really stand on such a big stage like that too someday.)

Muku: (But right now…)

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

[thefirstempress]

Prelude

Another more recent addition to my manuscript for The First Empress: Book I is the following Prelude by Zahnia, the Chronicler. Since I want readers to understand that Zahnia is going to be an important character in later stories, I decided to begin the story with an excerpt from one of her works. This is still kind of a rough draft, so any feedback is welcome!

Excerpted from Empress Viarraluca: Life of a Titan, by Zahnia, the Chonicler, Biographer for Empress Viarraluca I

Sometimes even the most competent rulers of the most powerful nations find themselves unable to stem the tide of change. Sometimes a potent enough ruler from a backwater polis can completely change the course of history. The conqueror of the Vestic Sea and surrounding lands, Empress Viarraluca I’s life and legacy have captivated the imaginations of nearly a hundred generations of scholars, playwrights, and later even novelists and screenwriters over the past 1,800 years. She was a skilled warrior and capable warlord, though not nearly the warmonger that certain later and contemporary critics would accuse her of being. Her prowess showed through during the Vedrian campaigns, the last Illaran War, the great sea-battle off the coast of Tutna, her defense of Kammaliya, and her invasion up the Arville River, cementing her reputation as a military leader. Even her defeats at the Siege of Valos and the Battle of Temetteni demonstrated her ability to recover from near-catastrophe and the value she placed on preserving the lives of her soldiers.

Even in her teens, Viarra cut a poignant contrast from the youthful heroes and heroines we’re used to in history and entertainment. Far from the baby-faced idealist we find in the later King Teucer the Great or the winning smile that the young Empress Larthia IV was famous for, Empress Viarra was huge and imposing even at sixteen or seventeen years. Rather than the brash optimism we see in sci-fi hoplite Lecnes Lightwielder, his mother and arch-nemesis the Black Myrmidon might be a better comparison. Viarra was terrifying when angry and not much less so when merely annoyed. She suffered fools only when they proved themselves useful, and she could be just as ruthless toward unreliable allies as she was toward her enemies.

And yet I’m not aware of a time during her reign where Viarra failed to remember that her subjects were the most important part of her job. She never built a palace to display her greatness or even a triumphal monument to celebrate her victories. Every building she commissioned, whether through tax money or spoils of conquest, was either a public building or public work. Throughout her empire, she commissioned schools and libraries to educate her citizenry, temples for her citizens to worship at, theaters for the latest plays, markets and emporiums for trade, housing for the lower classes, baths to help keep her people clean and healthy, sewers and other drainage to keep her poleis clean, wells and above-ground aqueducts for fresh water, stronger walls to protect vulnerable cities, and even harbors and bridges for improved travel. Had arched bridges and paved, deep-bed roads been invented in her time, I’ve no doubt Viarra would have launched a massive highway-building program, similar to that of co-empresses Velimnei and Seianti in the 230-60s AE.

The point being that Empress Viarraluca was far from what most people expected, both during her reign and after. Her political and geopolitical rivals, in particular, frequently made the mistake of assuming Viarra thought similarly to them—that she had similar goals and used similar tactics and methods of achieving those goals. The aristoi who conspired against her in 5 BE suffered worst from this lack of understanding, while Viarra’s more dangerous rivals like Queen Sita and Emperor Orvandius quickly realized that the standard geopolitical strategies would be worse than useless against her.

Viarra’s prowess in warfare, in the political arena, and even in the bedchambers with other women have all been thoroughly discussed and analyzed throughout history, but serious scholarship on who she was as a person has only been a major focus for a little over two decades. Everyone knows she led dozens of battles, executed or exiled plenty of corrupt aristoi, and shagged more queens and princesses than should be physically possible in a single lifetime. But who was Empress Viarra as a person? Was she a cat-person or a dog-person? Did she prefer tea or wine? What kind of plays and literature did she enjoy? Which charioteers did she cheer for at the hippodrome?

While these and similar questions have been discussed in other scholars’ research as well as my own, this text is my attempt to look comprehensively beyond Empress Viarraluca’s mighty accomplishments as empress and more closely at who she was as a human being. As well as being a scholarly account of Viarra’s personality and psychology, I hope Life of a Titan serves as an effective tribute to the incredible ruler who once took in this nine-year-old girl with a strange curse of eternal youth, starting me out as her personal chronicler and biographer. She turned my curse into a gift and granted me the chance to share that gift with the world.

[ginnyluvstimmy]

—⁠☆ 𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐓

timothée chalamet x fem! reader

y/n's pov :

It was my first time.

It was all new, actually, and it all started a few months ago.

My best friend, after many excuses and useless motivations, convinced me to sign up for an acting audition for Hollywood recruits.

I took it a bit lightly, given that, in my opinion, there wasn't even a 0.1 chance of me passing.

And instead...the stage manager said that my acting skills were exhaustive, that I immersed myself in situations and behaved like an opera singer in front of the audience.

All this exaggeration was a little jarring and disgusting, to be honest; and when he started complimenting me I almost choked on the water.

The director and I arranged to meet at the same time for the coming weeks: he said that he soon wanted to make me participate in one of the films he was working on.

That's where I met Timothée.

Or rather, I already knew him. My walls, full of posters, my phone, with its full memory, and my mother, with her exhausted patience, knew it well.

He was talking to a staff member, and I stumbled to hide and not be seen.

At the beginning we acted in the same time slots but for different films, and luckily we didn't have time to meet or exchange a few words.

One time I caught him at the coffee machine, and thank God he was too busy on the phone to pay any attention to me.

My films had their importance and recognition, I was happy and satisfied.

My parents as well, and my friend either.

More companies asked about my presence in other top films, and having lost control of my schedule, I agreed.

"You know, you're making a great progress here, my friends really admire you," Timothée chimed in one day, paying for an energy bar from the vending machine.

"I... well, thank you" how awkward I must have seemed to him, maybe he didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

The last straw for actors like me is that, even doing it for living, I can't even maintain a reputation by pretending I'm not that shy.

Lord...I must improve.

Days passed, and the big day arrived.

Probably my most important and beautiful day ever, I like to remember it that way.

The director and screenwriter was my hero and savior from that moment on. As the new film was announced, I ran to the list of actors I would meet during filming and who would work with me.

My finger slid across the paper until I found my name and... Timothée? TIMOTHÉE?? WOULD TIMOTHÉE CHALAMET HAVE BEEN IN THE SAME FILM AS ME?!

My legs turned to jelly and if the staff hadn't come by I would have actually kissed that paper without hesitation.

The rehearsals with Timothée were the best.

We laughed, we made stupid jokes that only we laughed at and we had a lot of fun. We were kind of in our own little world and even though we seemed crazy, we were crazy together.

I was the protagonist and he was a kind of secret lover, because in the film I was engaged. According to the script we would get together because my boyfriend would turn out to be a cheater, and I was fine with Timothée being my new partner.

When the film was released in theaters my joy was uncontrollable. The views rose to a thousand, all thanks to Timothée. The tickets disappeared within a few weeks, it was incredible.

Social media indulged fans, saying the footage was amazing.

And then...the red carpet.

God, I dreamed it.

I had dreamed of it in my small room at home, with the posters and signed books.

Now the room had transformed into my stage with the lights, the spotlights and the audience.

The posters had become reality and Timmy was by my side.

On the day of the gala I was nervous, I couldn't stand up and not even a wink by the previous night.

He, however, was an angel, as always. His hair was curly and looked incredibly softer. He had a black shirt with pitch-colored pearls and underneath he revealed his bare chest accompanied by a silver necklace. I got out of the car and a crowd of paparazzi jumped on me with flashes and microphones. There were screams of amazement, thuds of those trying to make space among the people and in the general noise I didn't know how to react. It was all so fast and blurry that when the limo sped away I looked desperately for my manager. We passed the journalists and within minutes the dressing room door was within reach so I rushed inside. "It's our turn soon, ready?" a familiar voice laughed and it was silk on the ears...I would have listened to Timothée's voice all my life, his accent, his delicacy. This time I responded with a nod, I didn't want to stutter, there was no room for shyness now.

I don't know if my attraction towards him was that visible, but that little smile he gave me always seemed to tease me, to play with me. I meticulously fixed my hair and before I could reach the handle he turned and gave me his last smile. My heart ended up in my throat, it was beating like crazy but I was so anxious that it was like I couldn't hear it at all. My veins pumped and I wanted to pass out there, in that dressing room. I breathed slowly and regained my stability. Timothée's hand slipped into mine, squeezing it as if to keep me from collapsing right then. The door opened and...crowd, chaos, flashes and anxiety.

All at once: I wanted to escape.

It wasn't like in the dreams, now everyone was really hanging on my lips, now I was really famous and I had to react.

“It's okay, I'm here,” Timothée whispered in my ear, and his warm breath brought me back to life. We got on the red carpet and he indulged me in some static poses and contained smiles. After the photos some journalists went up and blocked our passage.

"Timothée, what an honor! The new film is on everyone's lips, what do you think?"

I looked at my companion, and he smiled.

"It's a good film, we put a lot of effort into it and I thank everyone who collaborated"

"And tell me Timothée, the protagonist is actually the person you will love until the end of the film. Her name?"

The microphone was now two centimeters from his full lips.

"Mrs. Chalamet" he smirked.

Wait...WHAT?!

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! I'm looking for fics with very soft endings. The softer the better. 💜 Any rating is good with me, and any warning except major character death is alright. Although I'd prefer not too high of angst. AUs and canon fics both welcome, but I do have a slight preference for AUs lately. I'm just itching to dig into more rich stories with indulgent happy endings.

All my thanks for your lovely work! 💜

Hey! Here are some lovely human au fics chock full of softness directly from my bookmarks. I hope you enjoy!...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones. AU based on The Office.

In Our Nature by AppleSeeds (T)

A perfect day in Crowley's dream job as a nature reserve manager stands to be ruined by the arrival of Aziraphale, a representative from the Marketing department at head office, investigating "commercial sponsorship opportunities" for the organisation. After what happened last time someone from Marketing visited, Crowley is prepared to fight to protect his precious reserve from corruption, and decides to show Aziraphale every beautiful aspect of nature he can in an attempt to get him on his side.

After several days together, Crowley only realises that Aziraphale isn't the monster he expected him to be when it's almost time for him to leave, and struggles to get him out of his mind after he's gone. But Eric, Crowley's dedicated and perceptive intern, will intervene however necessary to bring the two of them back together, and it just so happens there's a reserve managers' meeting coming up at head office, and Crowley's going to need a place to stay...

Won’t You be My Neighbor? by ProblematicPitch & Spiro (T)

When Mr. A. Z. Fell moves to the quiet English village of Tadfield, he expects nosy neighbors and inquiries into his eccentric, solitary life. What he doesn't anticipate is Anthony J. Crowley, the surly nuisance / next-door-neighbor, who might very well need a friend as much as he does.

You're Just a Little Under Rehearsed by MickyRC (T)

Drama teacher Crowley loves directing the Tadfield Community Players' shows—interacting with the rest of the staff at the community center, not so much. So when he meets the new accompanist for this year's musical, he's shocked to find that he might actually like him. Possibly more than like, if he's being honest.

Aziraphale is fresh from leaving a long career as a church pianist, and hoping that a new job will get him out of the lonely rut he's found himself in. The attention and kindness of the flashy community theater director are unexpected, but not unwelcome. Far from it.

But with a community theater to run, a show to put on, and a disgruntled R.P. Tyler looking for any excuse to get rid of Crowley and his theater program, will they be able to make a relationship work? And, more importantly, can they make sure the show still goes on?

What There Isn’t by hope_in_the_dark (T)

Good things do not happen to Anthony Crowley, but when Eli Fell walks into his life, they start to.

(Or: Crowley is a tattoo artist and Eli is a bookseller, and they spend a lot of time not being together before they figure out what love is.)

It never hurts to keep looking for sunshine by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

After Adam's parents die in a car crash, Aziraphale is forced to start taking care of him as more than just an uncle. Don't get him wrong, he loves the little devil, it's just that he is completely clueless and could rather use some help. In comes Crowley, Adam's new nursery school teacher with his amazing skills in dealing with kids. Could he be the answer to all of Aziraphale's prayers - Adam-related and otherwise? Well, it looks like he might be just that, judging by the weird things Aziraphale's heart seems to be doing whenever he sets eyes on the man. Now, if only the tall ginger returned his feelings...

- Mod D

[unpopularwriter25]

Hello !! I saw a post of zomeone requesting a mathc - up with their oc , coukd you please do that with mine too ?? Thank you in advance .

Name : Charle , he is a lower moon demon .

Sexuality : bi

Apperance : He looks alot like a human . Around 5,8 with a slim body . Nothing out of the ordinary. He has fair hair and grey eyes . His hair is usually in a low ponytail . The only thing that is not seen on a mundane human is that half of his face is like a theater mask and he has holes in his palms , presumibly from an accident with the sun . He tries to blend in with humans usually , not his way of hunting ,but out o oure curiosity , he doesn't just attack anyone.

Personality : he is very calm , for someone of his caliber . He finds competioton to be useless and mrely works for himself , not to achieve the best , if muzan has to get rid of him then so be it , it was nice while it lasted . He is oretty friendly if someone doesn't try to intentionally annly him , otherwise he will come back with a snarky remark , maybe something about the demons personal things ( the ones he knows ).

I hope this is enough to form an opinion , thank you very much and have a good day !! :3

Sorry for the delay!! Okay so I saw that your character was a demon and I went back and forth between either pairing him with a slayer or another demon. At the end I decided to do a demon! If you want to re-submit it and ask for a slayer I can do that as well!! Anyway I hope you enjoy!!

I ship you Daki!!

Daki’s drive for power and influence balances Charle’s laid-back and non-competitive nature, creating a dynamic and balanced relationship.

Charle’s calm demeanor provides a steadying presence for Daki, who is often more aggressive and ambitious.

Charle’s curiosity about humans and tendency to blend in contrasts with Daki’s more overt and manipulative interactions, offering diverse perspectives on dealing with humans.

Daki could learn from Charle’s calm and collected approach, while Charle might be inspired by Daki’s ambition and strategic mind.

They have contrasting appearances – Daki’s striking beauty and Charle’s more understated, human-like look – make them an eye-catching and intriguing pair.

Charle’s snarky remarks and friendly demeanor would add a playful element to their interactions, complementing Daki’s more assertive personality.

Daki’s extreme ambition and Charle’s extreme calmness create a balanced dynamic where each partner offsets the other’s extremes.

Charle’s indifference to competition and friendly nature can offer emotional support and a sense of calm to Daki, who often deals with high stakes and pressure.

Despite their differences, both can develop a deep mutual respect for each other’s unique strengths and approaches to life as demons.

Combining Daki’s cunning and strategic mind with Charle’s observational skills and adaptability can lead to innovative and effective strategies in their demonic endeavors.

[forgottenyear]

I wrote recently that we rarely complete long-term goals.

We did not graduate high school. We have never had a driver’s license. We did not complete training to get a pilot’s license. We did not make it through our sophomore year at the university (sometime between Angela and me). I have gone through training to be a wilderness guide but did not take the test for the license. I completed training to be an Employment Specialist, but again, never took the test.

[I originally included a list of the many certificates and ratings we did earn. Tl/dr: they did not require long-term commitment to complete.]

Most recently, I was an honor student at the community college, planning to go on to earn a full degree at the university. I think I have (had? it has been about six years) six credits to go, were I to settle for a two-year degree, and then “two years” at the university (I can barely manage part-time). I earned consecutive 4.0 semesters for years (but not my first year).

I withdrew after a rough semester in which I encountered someone who brought Angela’s past too close to the fore. Had I completed that semester despite Angela's presence, it would not have been a 4.0.

(The school’s therapist was the one who asked, in visible terror, “what are the voices telling you to do?” in response to me saying that I have a “non-vocal identity fragment.” Needless to say, they were unhelpful.)

--

We thrive in jobs that are not specifically this task or that. In jobs that change frequently. Jobs that allow us to expand our tasks to encompass our skills.

We thrived in theater, but only summer stock and in beg-borrow-and-steal houses. If we did one task one hour, there would be a very different task the next. (We worked a couple of union houses at the end of that “career” and they were slow death jobs. You do only what is in your job description and nothing else.)

I thrived in the early years of the private vocational rehabilitation industry because the employers were more than happy to let me do anything I wanted, after my primary duties to were done. I had more useless titles than I can remember.

Even the call center, where I lasted only six months (until I caught fifth disease, and the chronic-fatigue-like syndrome of the same name), had me doing a variety of jobs.

--

I also wrote recently that I need to expand my concept of the boy to include a nebulous sort of pluralization. That maybe it is better to think of “the boy” as a class of parts and pieces of parts. That the boy is not the boy is not the boy, necessarily.

And this led to awareness that I appear to share in this quality of more plural than singular, but not so much that I can identify this bit of me as being distinct from that bit.

--

When I put all of the above into one post, it forms a complete thought.

I can survive day-to-day if the days can accommodate my somewhat unpredictable form as a part and as a system.

Long-term plans, however, fall apart because they are specific only to me as a part, and cannot accommodate the other parts of our system. I was able to constrain myself to the required form for classes and homework, but school became impossible when Angela could not remain in the background.

[wonderfulworldofmaeth]

My Name? Oh, it's Van...

Van Cruz

Full name: Vance (Van) Manuel Cruz

Age: 28 years old

Birthday: November 13th

Sexual orientation: Demisexual (Male Leaning)

Pronouns: He/They

Familiar: Jali, the tabby cat

Personality:

Likes: Learning new things by reading, cloudy days, waking up in time to see everyone's morning commute, his eggs over easy and still runny, going to work early so he can come home earlier, freshly ironed clothes, going on coffee runs for his family or workplace, bagels and sweets, lazy afternoons with a good book, slow folkloric music to relax to, buffet restaurants, when the circus comes to town, playing baseball in the park, the dentist, provaleta, rollerskating, organizing documents, doing his friends' taxes, dressing up for Halloween, children, birdwatching, taking walks on the forest trails, painting his nails, playing billiards with his friends, jewelry, playing guitar, shopping in Maeth's retail district, the color purple, helping Marcos in the garage even if he doesn't know anything about automobiles, going to the cinema theater, picnics by Lover's Lake, bow ties, being a guest to parties and gatherings, waiting in line if he's with his friends, visiting the bakery to talk to the owners, long journeys, buying cute and useless bobbles at the antique store.

Dislikes: Hot days, working outdoors in the heat, arrogant or brash men, working long days with no breaks, when people get him expensive gifts he feels like he doesn't deserve, not having fresh produce in the house, having laundry to do on a rainy day, letting his home repairs pile up, neckties that are too long or too short, having too strict of a schedule, wearing suspenders, hosting things at his house, talking about his father or family in general, killing bugs, mowing his grass because it makes his nose runny, the color black, spending a long time in the bath because he gets wrinkly.

Abilities: Van has picked up a few trades here and there and has picked up the reputation of a "do it yourself" type of man. Back in Villa Noche, he's done his fair share of handiwork for pipes, roofs, fences, wagons, and all sorts of other things. He's had to work hard for all his book smarts, but he's incredibly intelligent and dedicated to learning. He becomes a library assistant in Maeth to further his knowledge. He's good at baseball, the most popular sport in Villa Noche. He can cook and bake okay, nothing exceptional. He really likes studying animals, specifically birds.

Favourite food: Ham & cheese empanadas. Provoleta

Favourite drink: Black coffee and Modelos

Favourite flower: The blooms of the Jacaranda tree

Appearance:

Height: 6'0 or 183 cm.

Weight: 140 lbs or 63 kg

Hair: Van has dusty brown hair, thick and silky. It's pretty easy to comb through and almost never tangles. He used to keep it short growing up, but since his decision to leave Villa Noche, he has been growing it long. It's to his shoulders now. He often keeps it back in a ribbon or a satin scrunchy. He likes to experiment with different hairstyles, but most of the time he likes a simple ponytail or his hair down by his shoulders. He has quite a few grey hairs that he's gathered over the years from stress, but now he's just convinced he's greying early. He hopes he doesn't bald too soon.

Eyes: Van has big, deep-set eyes, much like a squirrel. They're chocolate, just light enough to differentiate the iris from the pupil. They glow like maple syrup in the sun. He's got a distinct pair of long, dark lashes, and the skin around his eyes wrinkles when he smiles.

General description: Van is a soft-spoken and empathetic young man. He has a passion for learning both skills and learning about others. He has a host of bad habits he's been trying to unlearn, often struggling with interpersonal relationships between friends who aren't like-minded to him. He's polite and gentle, and he loves to keep in the company of others. Van is very generous and it shows in his everyday life. He is an excellent employee and a caring friend as he will go to great lengths to do more than what is asked of him for people he feels like deserve it.

Van is tall and lanky, sometimes incredibly awkward. He's grown to be more comfortable with himself but still has an awkward walk and a small stammer that stems from his low self-confidence. Van has long skinny legs and thin arms. For a man of many trades, he has quite delicate hands and he likes to keep his nails short. Van has a host of freckles all over his body, lightly washed over his face, but a more intense brown all over his back and arms. Van has thick brows and easily grows a beard, however, he likes to keep it shaved completely or, at the most, keeps a small mustache and stubble.

Van has a large aquiline nose with a distinct bump which is naturally the most distinguishing part of his face. Van's face is defined by high cheekbones and a naturally contoured jaw. His chin is pointed, and he does have a small cleft in the middle. Van has dimples when he smiles, making for a soft, more friendly appearance. Overall, Van is very handsome and his combination of features is quite unique.

Fashion sense: Van isn't overly particular about clothes. He's used to living in a very cold, mountainous region so he's used to dressing warmly. However, once he moves to the more central part of Maeth, he experiments with different styles since the weather is more temperate and isn't as limiting. For the most part, Van enjoys a denim pair of jeans, loose or tight fighting, with a long-sleeved shirt or a sweater of some type. He likes to layer, but always ends up rolling his sleeves to his elbows. He really loves an oversized cardigan. Van usually sports leather or vinyl boots on a daily basis. Sometimes for a more casual look, Van likes cork sandals. Van comes to find that he likes sneakers and is impressed with Central Maeth's wide variety of shoe stores and shoe styles.

A brief look into his life:

Occupation: During his years in Villa Noche, a small village in mountainous Souther Maeth, Van was a sheep and livestock herder like his father. He'd go around doing odd jobs for extra cash since he barely saw any take home from his and his father's work. Upon moving to Central Maeth, Van saw an opportunity for learning and decided to apply as one of the library assistants. He wasn't particularly well-versed in books, but he brought to the table an eagerness and willingness to learn and help others. He often goes to Maeth's primary school library to read to the children there or bring them books they might not otherwise have access to. He likes to pop in at the petting zoo from time to time.

Love interest:

Marcos

Family and friends:

Valerio Cruz, father

Rosalie Rivera, mother

Ignacio Rivera, stepfather

Penelope Rivera, sister

Oliver Rivera, half brother

Petra Moretti, former love interest and best friend in Villa Noche

Nina Yanez and Marnie Ursil, close friends in Villa Noche

Lalo Hernandez, estranged friend in Villa Noche

Fausto Guerra, rival in Villa Noche

Linda Firraldi, former teacher

Marcos, love interest and partner

Thomas, Cole, Matías, and Emilio, his best friends.

Victor Esperanza, mentor at the Maethisse College of Literary Arts

Miscellaneous facts:

Despite an unathletic appearance, Van is really good at baseball and swimming. He is also very good at riding horses and has learned to do so from a very young age

Van is very good with children and animals and both tend to like and trust him easily

Van has many great ideas but often doesn't share them

Van doesn't anger easily, so when you've made him angry you know you've gone too far

Van isn't typically one to forgive and can easily hold a grudge, despite his soft nature

In Villa Noche, Van started participating in bull running and bull riding to fit in since the dangerous sport was considered 'cool' amongst all the young men there. He got to be quite good at it, much to the annoyance of his peers

Most of Van's friends have been girls, which is the main contributor to his empathetic and kind nature

When younger, Van found other boys intimidating and difficult to get along with. He can count on one hand how many close male friends he's had in his life.

Van kept his sexuality private for a very long time, and upon arriving in Central Maeth, he feels relief in not having to hide anymore

Van isn't afraid to explore cosmetic enhancements and body modifications and has often expressed a desire for a nose job or fillers

Van likes piercings on himself and others, but he's yet to get anything beyond a nose ring and double ear piercings.

Although Van appreciates having feminine qualities, he often still opts for a mostly masculine appearance and prefers that in his partners

Story:

Vance Manuel Cruz was born to his mother and father in the small mountain village known as Villa Noche. Quite secluded from the rest of the country, the village of less than one hundred had to be quite sustainable on its own. Because of that, most of the townspeople had practical professions and lived humble lives. Van's father was a sheep herder and a keeper of livestock, while his mother was a seamstress. From a young age, Van had been trained in his father's line of work. He took to it easily enough, not to say it was something he preferred. He did, however, enjoy working with the animals. He was never any good at slaughtering them.

Van had a good relationship with his mother, who often tried to hide the abusive nature of her marriage from her only son. Her husband, and Van's father, Valerio, was a very traditional man. In this sense, he worked long hours and prioritized his duties outside of the home. His wife's responsibilities amounted to taking care of the home, their child and also working long hours. Valerio didn't allow Rosalie many freedoms and she was often unhappy. Their fights would sometimes come to blows when Van wasn't around. The most prominent disagreement between them was that Valerio wanted more children, and Rosalie did not. Life was hard enough already. They didn't have much money, time or means. Having another child would be impossible.

When Van was four or five years old, Rosalie discovered she was pregnant again, this time with a daughter. She kept it a secret from her husband. Not being able to stomach the uncertain future they would both have in Villa Noche, Rosalie gathered what little possessions belonging to her and planned quietly to move away. Although she desperately wanted to take Van with her, Rosalie knew her limitations. There was nobody to help her travel north, and it would be harder with Van with her. It would also give Valerio more cause to run after her. Ultimately she had to convince herself that Van would be okay here in Villa Noche, and she disappeared in the middle of the night, never to return.

After Rosalie's disappearance, Valerio became incorrigible. He was always angry, speaking about how ungrateful Rosalie was. For Van this was difficult. He didn't know who to believe. His father and the preconceived notions of the townspeople, or whatever information he'd gathered about his parents' relationship managed to slip between the cracks.

The more his father spoke ill of her, the more Van began hating his mother.

Van soon took the role of his own mother, taking care of their home as well as himself and his father. He began learning how to cook meals and keep everything clean, doing laundry and maintenance. He took up his mother's place in more ways than one. Van had a very busy schedule between helping his father with the livestock and all of the house chores. He hardly had any time to play, as a child should do.

Valerio seemed to have nobody left to push around, so he set his sights on Van. He was very critical of him, complaining when things weren't done up to his standard. He would lament about not having Rosalie around and that Van was a lousy replacement. Van was often the butt of jokes his father would make at his expense, discussing how he'd make a much better daughter than a son. This bothered Van a lot, but it bothered him more once he began discovering things about himself.

Due to Villa Noche's small population and the value placed on practical work, there wasn't much in the way of formal education. Because of this, Van didn't attend school for very long. There was one schoolhouse in the village that the children could attend. Not very many did because they were helping their families with the labor-intensive work required at home. Between his duties at home, Van attended school as much as he could, much to the disapproval of his father. Here, he learned to read at a basic level and was taught basic mathematics.

The schoolhouse was shut down as the school teacher, who had become a safe and trusted adult to Van, was moving away. Her name was Linda Firraldi. She was a widow and had no means to provide for herself here. The teaching she was doing went unpaid. Many of the children were saddened by this news and donated money to her so that she could afford to leave. Some of the parents were upset by this news, while others were in support of Linda. Since Villa Noche did not have a formal government, not much could be done to accommodate her. Linda didn't want to be a pity case either. So it was decided. Van was so upset that his teacher was leaving, realizing he'd be without a friend and without a safe place to hide from his responsibilities.

All through Van's late adolescence, he struggled to make friends. All of his time was spent at his house or at work. One day, when Van was about eleven years old, he got a knock on his door. He looked through the window to discover it was a girl about his age. Hurrying to open it so his father wouldn't, Van was face to face with one of his former peers from the schoolhouse.

Petra Moretti.

They hadn't been well acquainted then, but Van distinctly remembered her long dark hair and her delicate features. He thought she was so beautiful and well-spoken. Her mother had been friends with Rosalie.

"Hey... hey Petra."

"Hi, Vance. Is your dad home?"

Van quickly nodded. Petra held a small piece of paper in her hands.

"Yeah... he is. Why, did you need him for something?"

Petra shook her head. Handing the piece of paper to Van.

"No... I actually came to see you. I'll make it quick, but my mom and I are holding school lessons at our house. I was hoping maybe you'd come."

Van looked down at the paper, then back at Petra. This was the first time he felt like one of his peers actually cared for him.

"Yeah... yeah I'll try to make it if I can..."

Van was already hesitant as he didn't have any school supplies or anything left from his time at the schoolhouse. He was also afraid that his father would find out. He'd been so relieved when Van stopped attending school, so he definitely intended on keeping this a secret. Petra knew the look on his face.

"Don't worry about the books or anything. We have everything you need."

Van wanted to count all the freckles on her face. He couldn't do it because he didn't know enough numbers.

"Thank you, Petra..."

Before she turned to leave, a cold gust of wind blew her hair back. Her cheeks were red. It made Van's stomach warm.

"Anytime. And Van?"

"Yeah?"

"He doesn't have to find out."

Van looked at that piece of paper all night. It had a list of times that they would meet, written in Petra's neat handwriting. The subjects were on a rotating schedule, so everyone would learn a little bit of everything at some point. There was even a class on Saturday. Van had never been more excited.

So in secret, Van started to attend school at Petra's house. Her father, Gino was one of the village's farmers. He was well respected in Villa Noche and spent long hours at their patch of land some miles out of the village. Petra's young mother, Julietta, made jams and preserves that she sold at the market. She was also a midwife and had helped deliver many of the children that attended her house for school, including Van.

He learned a great many things there and began friendships with some other kids. He got a hunger for knowledge and a taste for learning. In his early teens, Van spent a lot of time at Petra's house. He learned how to make jam with Julietta and he and Petra would spend all afternoon reading and learning together. They would make lists of things they wanted to learn about. Petra would ask her father to see some of the traveling merchants and request books on the subjects. Gino would come with books from all over Maeth for Petra and Van to share. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship. Van was even able to confide in her about his suffering relationship with his father. He felt like she was able to understand.

In his time learning there, Van met a few other boys his age. He'd refrained from befriending boys in the past, because of conflicting feelings he's had toward them. Despite this, one boy named Lalo Hernandez managed to win him over. Lalo was the son of a metal worker and a seamstress. He was kind, but rowdy with a crooked smile and a lazy eye. He adopted Van into his group of friends. Van thought it felt good to be accepted. His father spoke less ill of him when he discovered he had some friends that would be a masculine influence. The group would often play baseball in the field, travel the forest together, and share stories over their father's alcohol. They would provoke and fearlessly hop atop the bulls of the village to feel danger and impress the girls. Van loved the security that group provided him, but he couldn't help but feel he was an imposter.

Friendship with Lalo and his buddies felt like a double-edged sword. Van was often teased because he wasn't like them. Lanky and awkward, he often felt out of place next to his muscular, confident counterparts. They teased him when he refused the advances of girls and didn't participate in their locker room talk. They joked that Van was only their friend so that he could see them bathe naked. Lalo assured Van it was all just childish jokes. Van wasn't sure that they were, but for years he stayed. Finally accepted by his father, the feeling of belonging coerced him to stay close to the same people he couldn't fully relate to. They liked Van well enough, but Van had again found himself a house with no home.

Van grew older, into a young man. He kept with his studies at Petra's house and with his work herding his family's sheep. He kept with Lalo his group of village misfits through all their ups and downs. Van found his friendship with Petra to be the type of friendship he preferred. It was gentle, nurturing, and intimate. As Petra began to discover herself, their friendship crossed over into something more. She was a beautiful young woman, but Van discovered that wasn't why he was infatuated with her. He loved how he could let his walls come down around her. He loved how they could touch each other and feel safe. Petra was never threatened by Van, nor Van by her. Their physical relationship came long after their strong emotional connection and it was one of discovery.

Van couldn't help but feel drawn to his friends. He explained what he felt to Petra after long contemplation. He explained how Lalo, with his swagger and his ruggedness, made him feel things. Things he was ashamed of but told her anyway. Petra listened.

"Would you be happier with someone like that? With Lalo?"

Van shook his head, quickly putting himself in that situation. He didn't like what he imagined.

"Oh no... I can't have a conversation with any of them about anything important, Petra... I feel like it's so hard to connect to them like I connect with you. I don't want to be with someone like that... I just think he's..."

"Beautiful. Your body thinks he's beautiful, doesn't it? And it feels things when you see him."

Van nods. He was so surprised by her insight.

"How'd you know?"

She shrugs.

"Because that's the feeling I'm missing. Mama said I was supposed to feel things in my body when I look at a boy... Nina too. But I don't. Not what they speak about."

Van rubs his chin.

"What do you feel when you look at me?"

Petra smiles. The kind of smile that reminds Van what real love is.

"The same thing you feel."

It was safety, understanding, companionship, love, and all these other words they already knew.

By the time he was seventeen, Van could consider himself Petra's boyfriend. They spent most of their time together beyond their work, and Van often stayed over at her family's house.

Petra was so happy with Van. The pair had decided to keep their love private for a long time, and Van was okay with that. He actually preferred it. As much as he wanted to prove himself to his father and his friends, he realized that wasn't what he wanted. That was what his surroundings conditioned him to want. His desire to protect Petra and her virtue was far greater.

As they approached the common age of marriage, tensions reached an unbearable point within his group of friends over his relationship with Petra. She was well sought after by the boys of the village because of her beauty and poise. She received endless advances and pursuits from the young men in town, but to all of them, she refused. They despised how close Van was to her, calling it a waste.

"You don't even like girls, Vance. You could at least let one of us put her to good use."

This was the statement that angered him the most. As if Petra's womanhood had anything to do with why he loved her.

Van had always known he didn't see women as toys or things or objects. What he had only recently discovered is that not everyone felt the same. He was beginning to realize why his mother had left his father. He feared finding out the things she'd endured that made her think her only option was disappearing into the night without him.

The friends were beginning to fall apart and they would often bicker over Petra's affections. They would relentlessly harass Van about her most intimate details, but he would never provide so much as a clue. Just the thought that Van had to shield her from their prying eyes was enough to justify his relationship with her. He would be with her. They would never be.

One of their group, Fausto Guerra, was particularly vile. He was the son of the tavern master. Van had never liked Fausto. Fausto was his foil, his antichrist. He was the most braggadocious person he'd ever met. He was haughty, arrogant, and self-important. He expected others to serve him, and his mouth demanded respect before his hands warranted it. His crass opinions of women and his love for alcohol rubbed Van's skin raw with contempt. His greed was insatiable and he had boasted of deflowering many girls in the village. Van doubted the consensuality of his claims. In many ways, Fausto reminded Van of his father. He hated that.

Fausto loved to proclaim that one day he would 'conquer' Petra and make her his wife. Van would die before that would ever happen.

Fausto would buy Petra all the most elaborate gifts in an effort to get her to agree to marry him. Petra would always politely refuse them, as her mind was made up.

"Why doesn't he ever listen Vance?"

Van spared her from the disgusting things that entered his mind from Fausto's lips.

"Because men don't know how to listen."

Her laugh lifted like a feather in the wind.

"You do."

"Yeah, well sure Petra... but I'm different."

"Sure you are... and that's why I love you."

Petra looked out the four-pane window, a book in her lap. Her hair was to her waist now. Vance would brush it often and put it in a ribbon for her.

"It's laughable to think Fausto expects me to consider him at all. I would never marry a man like him."

Van lays on her bed with his arm above his head. His eyes couldn't choose between Petra's elegant form and the orrery hanging from her ceiling. He had a small, teasing smile.

"Why ever not, Petra?"

Her playful scoff made Van warm inside.

"Because I have bigger plans for my life than to be the wench of an insufferable tyrant."

Van chuckled.

"That we do, Petra. That we do."

This wasn't the end of Fausto's advances. When Petra was at the tavern with their friends Nina and Marnie, Fausto tried again. Her answer would always be no. She just feared what this exchange would bring. She knew men often became dangerous when humiliated.

Van had heard the whole commotion from outside the tavern. He'd finished up his work for the day. The sheep were sheared and in the northern pasture. He'd made plans to join Petra and their friends at the tavern for a drink, then walk Petra home. He hadn't known what Fausto had planned on doing. The way things went, he assumed nobody had. When Van arrived a crowd had gathered around the door.

He heard yelling. He heard a glass break. He heard Petra's angry yell.

"I said no, Fausto! No! Doesn't a woman's word mean anything to you? You ask, ask, ask, but it does not mean you will receive. I say no and you do not listen. What kind of marriage would that make for me? Answer me that!"

Van could hear the tears in her voice. He shoved through the crowd and had seen Petra wrapped around herself. Nina and Marnie were in a wall between her and her aggressor. Fausto was red in the face. He grabbed her drink and threw it on the stone floor, glass scattering across the floor like shrill mice.

"Why won't you just give in, huh? I've done everything a man could possibly do. You're so ungrateful. You'll see, Petra! You'll die a spinster. You wouldn't know a good man if one fell into your bed."

Van saw Petra, his poetic and poised Petra, falling apart at the seams. He saw her cowering behind her friends. He saw her dainty hands shake as she held them close to her chest. He saw that the silver button on the cuff of her blouse was gone, the threads slithering out like snakes. Van pictured Fausto reaching out to hurt her. This sent Van into a rage.

"Get out of here, Fausto."

Van parted the crowd like a sea, taking a few steps in front of Marnie and Nina. Even though Van towered over the brute, he couldn't tip the scale at half his weight. Fausto glowered at him, broken glass crunching under his boots.

"And what are you going to do?"

Van clenched his fist. For the first time, he did not know fear. All he felt was anger.

"What do you think?"

"I think you're a bitch, Vance Cruz. You always have been. A bitch like Petra knows how to pick 'em."

Van didn't remember anything after that.

There were flying fists and blood and teeth.

Fausto's father had to pull Van away from Fausto. By then there was blood on the floor, his face, and splattered all over his shirt. Some had gathered to watch, and some had fled. Van didn't feel pain. He felt satisfaction. He didn't hear Mr. Guerra yelling at him to leave. He just heard the ringing in his ears. He didn't see the surprise on the faces around him. He just saw him with his eyes swollen shut, barely recognizable on the ground. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to tell if that was Fausto Guerra or not. This made Van happy.

He reached out for Petra. She went into his arms like it was the only safe place in the world. Van didn't regain his sentience until all four of them had made headway to Petra's house in Marnie's mage light.

After they'd made it out of earshot of the tavern, Petra burst into tears. It broke Van's heart. He'd never seen her so upset, violated, and vulnerable. They supported her along the beaten path to her house on the hill. She'd cried so much she'd exhausted herself, and Van had to carry her. When they got back, Nina and Marnie helped her wash up. Van did the same, helping himself to one of Gino's shirts. He was out of town trading with another village to the east. He wouldn't miss it. When Van had finished, they all went to Petra's room, surrounding her with love and support as she fell asleep in Van's grasp.

"So what happened?" Van asked quietly.

Marnie could feel the anger melting off him in waves. In all the years she'd known Van, she didn't think he was capable of such raw, unchanneled fury. He'd always been so gentle to them.

They sat on the bed together, Marnie's calming magic seeping into Petra's skin.

"Fausto walked into the tavern with a grand gesture. He had flowers and gifts for Petra. We all looked at each other not knowing what to do. He came over to us and sat down next to Petra... He tried to hug and kiss her. Petra had pushed him away."

"We didn't know where he got that idea from," Nina said. "Petra has never wanted to share space with him, let alone touch him. Everyone knows Petra doesn't like being touched by just anyone. Everyone knows she doesn't like Fausto."

Van shakes his head and seethes. The look of worry on his friends' faces told him everything they didn't say with their words.

"And nobody tried to help you..." he mumbled. He wasn't surprised. There weren't many people brave enough to stand up to that tyrant Fausto. Not even the grown men of the village. Van hated that.

"No... we tried to ask him to leave before Petra get any more upset. I'm afraid he didn't take that well," Marnie continued in her soft voice. "He tried to calm her down with sweet talk and fake apologies. He was too dense to see it wasn't working. He ordered her another drink to get on her good side."

Van looked down at Petra, fast asleep in his arms. She only had good sides, but they were for people who were good to her.

"He grabbed her hand and tried to put the ring on her finger saying his much he fancied her... He'd torn the sleeve of her blouse when she tried to rip her hand away from him."

Nina scowled.

"After that, Fausto went berserk. He shoved all the empty glasses onto the floor and banged on the counter, raising his voice at Petra. She told him bravely to leave her alone, but he wasn't listening. We were scared, but we stood up to that pig. We told him to scram or we'd use our magic to blast him out of that shit hole..."

Nina wiped her face, trying not to let the tears escape. Marnie held her hand.

"And that's when you arrived."

Van placed a soft kiss on Petra's head, covering her shoulders with her quilt.

"I'm glad I arrived in enough time... and I'm sorry you three were alone."

Marnie smiled softly. "It's not your fault, Van."

Nina was chewing her finger. Van knew something was eating at her.

"What is it, Nina?"

"He's just... so horrible Van." She looked at Marnie and back to Van.

"She... told us not to tell you. But Fausto has been sending Petra letters."

"What kind of letters?" Van saw his vision get hazy.

Manie was the one to answer. "Very detailed letters of what he would do to her once they were married... Or even before. She hasn't felt safe and we've been staying with her every night until her parents return. She hadn't told anybody."

They told him while Petra slept in his arms. They sat there and told Van everything while the planets spun above them. Van's world seemed to stop. He was so sad for Petra. So sad that she didn't tell him. But he understood. He understood that sometimes people kept secrets because the minute you said them out loud they seemed too real for your comfort. Maybe she feared Van would do something stupid to stand up for her... and maybe she thought Van didn't stand a chance against Fausto.

Maybe.

Walking away from that fight with a bloody nose and a broken rib was the least of Van's worries. It showed how much of a man he'd grown into, despite the examples he'd been given. Van was proud of that.

Van didn't go against Penelope's wishes. He waited to see how Petra wanted things handled. Nina and Marnie had told him what happened when Gino came back. Petra told her father everything, sparing him a few details that would make her ashamed. Mr. Moretti settled things personally with Fausto. Petra had wanted to go and receive her apology. She brought her friends with her for support, and so they could get an apology as well.

Mr. Moretti brought the letters to Fausto's house, making Mrs. Guerra read them. Nina said that she'd never seen a woman so disgusted and offended. The letters made her cry. It was a hard pill for her to swallow, but she needed to see the son she raised. Marnie said she felt terrible for Mrs. Guerra. But she felt worse for Petra. She needed to see the son she and her husband raised.

Mr. Moretti told Mr. Guerra he would no longer provide his produce for his tavern and told Fausto he would kill him if he ever saw him near Petra again.

Fausto apologized to those girls, but it didn't mean as much to Petra as she had thought. Mr. Moretti asked her if she had anything to say.

"Until you raise a daughter of your own, Fausto, you won't know the violation you're capable of projecting onto a woman. And I hope you never have the chance to. I feel sorry for your future wife, and I feel sorry for your mother. I feel sorry that I ruined her perception of you, but you deserve to have your reputation ruined. Since your precious reputation is the only thing I could ruin to make you see the value of a woman's life."

And Petra had spit on him.

Van had just wished he could be there for that. Because when they told him it was all over, it didn't feel like enough.

It was a few months after that, Petra told Van she had decided to leave Villa Noche.

"We're moving to the north so I can study, Van. You should come with us."

It was a casual conversation over provoleta at the Moretti household. Van nearly spits out his drink.

Van didn't know what to make of that. He'd worked so hard to make himself belong in a place he didn't. Now the opportunity to travel abroad with the family who took him in was right here... He didn't know what he'd do.

They'd all talked about it. Gino had a few prospects for their farm lined up. The money from that should be enough to get them anywhere they needed to go. Anything else they sold would be extra cash in their pockets. Julietta was so excited, looking forward to moving to a new place and supporting her daughter's ambitions. They invited Van with open arms. He was a part of their family for more than a decade. They knew he came from a situation that he really wanted to leave. There was never a doubt in their mind that Van was going to be a part of that family for the rest of their lives.

Van felt honored. He had wanted to go. He really, really did. He wanted to go with them, with Petra, but something was telling him not to.

He'd gone home and thought it over. He talked to his friends about it casually, the ones he really trusted anyhow.

Lalo had told him it was self-sabotage, he should just move with them.

"It's a big wide world out there Vance. There are opportunities taller than the mountains."

Van wanted to believe him, but things weren't so simple. He wished to all the planets that it was.

Until this point, Van and Petra had discussed their relationship so regularly. They were best friends. They were two people who shared intimacy and felt safe when making love with one another. Petra and Van loved each other more than the world itself. They discovered many things by being together.

Petra didn't love men. Petra loved Van. Van loved women, but in the way that he wanted to be one and was envious that he wasn't. He still wasn't sure what that meant. Petra was okay with that.

Van desired men in the way Petra did not. Although he'd found this out about himself, Van knew there wasn't a single man he could fall in love with like he had fallen in love with Petra. He asked himself why. Why, why why.

Because Petra was Petra. A soft, sensitive, caring woman that opened the doors to space and time. She was the woman that changed his life.

There wasn't a man Petra could see herself in love with... because there was no man like Van.

Van understood Petra and Petra understood Van. She was the only one who had known his secrets and he was the only one who understood hers. Their lusts and confusion and their skeletons in the closet that, when in each other's company, never seemed so bad.

Their bond was so strong and although they thought they were soulmates, they realized you could be soulmates in a way that belies tradition. Their relationship had become... celestial.

But on the tangible side of things, Petra wanted so much more than Van was sure he could give her. She wanted to try out a big city. She wanted to study the stars. She wanted to love women. She wanted a different life than the one she had. Van was okay with her having all of those things. He wanted her to have those things. Petra had a feeling when she asked him...

She knew Van was unsure if he was okay with uprooting with her. She saw the stars from his eyes disappear and be replaced with uncertainty.

"So you're not coming with us... are you, Vance?"

Van couldn't help the tears in his eyes.

"I don't know... What if I.. what if it's not the right thing for me?"

Petra smiled through her disappointment.

She couldn't help but think it was Van's sweet way of saying

'What if you're not the right thing for me'?

Van tried to think of something, anything to say. He had some things lined up, but he knew those words were already written in Petra's mind. She'd already read and memorized them.

And she'd forgiven him too.

"That's okay. You'll find the right thing for you, Van. I'll write to you."

"You will?"

Petra sniffled and wiped his face with her bare fingers. He was honored. She'd normally reserve her pocket kerchief for something like that. He'd miss these things about her.

"Of course, I will. I'll tell you all about my studies, and mama and papa too. Just don't move away before I do, okay? You have to promise."

Van cupped Petra's face and gave her the kiss he hoped she'd never forget.

"I promise, Petra."

"Are you going to be okay... with your father?"

Van didn't know. He didn't want to worry her. He'd grown into a man now. Whatever issues he had, he would face them head-on. He wouldn't have Petra to cry to anymore. He couldn't hide under the covers with her while his father drank himself into a stupor. He would really miss that.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry."

She nods and grabs the keys to the house from her pocket, looking over her shoulder at her father packing up their wagon.

"We sold the farm to Nina's family, but the house is yours. I told Papa that I wanted you to have it."

Van took those keys into his hands like they were sacred ambrosia.

"Petra... I don't know what- Petra... thank you."

"You're welcome, Van. I'm really going to miss you, you know."

Van took her into his arms and hugged her tight. He was going to miss her more than anything. The sobs in his throat were telling.

"We'll see each other again. When you're an astronomer discovering new stars in a capital city."

"Yeah... we will, won't we?"

"Sure, we will."

Gino's voice yelling for Petra was the calling card. Van found it so hard to let her go. They'd all said their goodbyes about thirty minutes ago when he was helping them pack up the wagon. But now it seemed real. It seemed too terrible to bear.

"I love you, Petra."

Then sunrise peeking behind the mountains cast a gorgeous ray of angelic light upon the face Van had loved. The face Van will always love. He'll remember that forever, the way his Petra looked.

"I know, Van. Don't worry."

___

It was four years after that day. Four years of living alone in Petra's old house. Four years of working in distant silence with his father. Four months of a dry spell that ruined the pastures. Four years of pining that he didn't understand over men he didn't want to love. Four years full of nights dragging your father out of one of the four bars in town. Four minutes of something with Lalo he never wanted to happen. Four long years of writing to Petra, reading how happy she was. Four long years of regret.

Van realized he did make the wrong choice. That was a realization he made hours after Petra had made her departure, but spent years trying to convince himself otherwise.

He wrote to her.

Dear Petra, I don't know how you'll take this. If it's with anger, I understand. If it's with pity, I agree. If it's with compassion, I'll be so ashamed. But I wish I came with you. The four years I've spent here were four years I'd rather have spent in a grave. I miss you. I miss being happy. I miss having meaning. I miss the strength that I had before that would've let me admit that. Petra, my muse, read the stars and tell me what to do. From, Van

When she read the letter she cried. She cried that Van hadn't found himself like she had. She was sad that he couldn't find what he wanted with her. She was sad that she was right. She was right all along that he wouldn't find himself in Villa Noche. She wrote back, tears still fresh in her eyes.

To Van, I take it with sadness. I'm sad you've lived with regret. I'm sad that you haven't been happy. I'm sad that you didn't tell me sooner. I don't need to read the stars to tell you what to do. I don't need to read them to tell you that it's not too late. You know you can come to me. You know you can always come to me and I will be here for you. But Van. You won't find yourself with me. If you didn't before, you won't now. I know that. You need to find yourself with you. Do as I did. Start today. Pick up everything you can bear to bring with you. Pack it in a bag. You're simple, I know you. All it will take is one bag. Take that bag and move away to somewhere you'd never think you'd go. It doesn't have to be grand. Make it suit you, Van. Move there and find a job you like. Maybe a job with sheep, maybe a job without them. I know how much you do like them. Find a place to learn. I know you'll be happier learning new things, just like we were. Once you've done that, write me a letter with everything you've felt over these years. Write me the truth. Let me listen. Or better yet, come visit me when those four years are just an unhappy memory that you'll tell me about in passing. I love you, Van. Go be happy. If not, you can always run back to my arms. Love, Your Petra

It took about three weeks for her letter to reach him. He cried his eyes out, reading it. But she had spoken. Petra was right. He had to go find him.

Van rose from the desk in his bedroom, the bedroom he once nearly shared with Petra. He grabbed his leather bag and began laying out clothes to put inside it. He searched the attic for a second suitcase. He'd prove Petra wrong at least once. He took a few things that belonged to her. Her small collection of hair scarves that he liked to wear sometimes and her rings that were much too small for him, but he liked to wear as necklaces. He pocketed the nail polish she'd left behind, deciding he'd be able to use it wherever he went. He applied a coat before he left.

He walked the thirty minutes to Nina's house. Knocking on the door, he felt the weight of the house keys in his hand.

Mrs. Yanez opened the door. She eyed the bag on his shoulder and the suitcase sitting behind him on the porch.

"Van? Hi honey, how are you? Going somewhere?"

Van smiled softly and tossed the keys in his hand, swinging them on his finger.

"I'm well, Mrs. Yanez. I actually am... I'm moving away. I talked it over with the Moretti's... they said to give you the keys to the house."

Needless to say, Mrs. Yanez was shocked. But she understood. She understood Villa Noche wasn't for everyone. If she was being honest, she wasn't entirely sure it was for her.

"Well, I'm sad you're leaving. I'll tell Nina you stopped by."

"That would be great, Mrs. Yanez. Thank you. Tell her I'll write."

"Of course, Van... Where are you going?"

He shrugs.

"When I figure that out, I'll let you know."

Van gives her a hug and leaves the keys with her. It was feeling real.

He went to tell his father. When Van walked into the front door, the young man found Valerio splayed out drunk in the living room. His snoring was so loud, it seemed to shake the paneled walls. Between the drunken slurs on the long walks home and the agitated mumbles when Van came to start the morning's work, Van and his father didn't speak very much. When they did it was about work. It had been a long while since Van had a decent conversation with his dad that didn't involve how many bags of wool were waiting to be washed, or where the grass was best for grazing. It had been a long while since they had a conversation at all. Van frowned, looking around his childhood home for a pen and some paper.

Going through the desk, he stumbled upon a faded picture of him and his mother. Van remembered those big, clunky cameras that would take his picture every year. He remembered going to the church with his mother where a few other people were taking photos too. They always had to wait a long time. It would be him and his mother, holding hands, waiting for their turn. His father never came. Van realized she must have the one who liked the family photos because when she left, his family had never taken another one. Van stared at it, the picture. He stared at his young face and the beautiful face of his mother whom he'd nearly forgotten. He shook his head and put it in his bag, paperclipped between the photos of him and Petra. He wished he could cry some tears about that photo. About how he was taking one of the only tangible things his father still had of his former wife. About how much he missed his mother. About how betrayed and lonely and angry he felt. He couldn't cry anymore. His feelings about this were so absent, it bothered him. Van wished he could cry, just to feel something. Feel something for this broken family.

Van remembered the paper. When he finally found some, he wrote a note.

I'm moving away. I won't be around to help you anymore. If you need anything, I hope there is someone you can call. Please don't forget about my sheep. -Van

He put the piece of paper on the messy kitchen counter, by the coffee press. He'd be sure to find it there. He took a long look around. He didn't recognize this home. He'd lived here for years, yes, but he couldn't recall happiness here. Petra was right. How could he ever have found himself in this mess?

A rustling in the half-open pantry caught Van's attention. There was a young cat making a mess out of the bag of grain on the floor. Van had seen it a few times when coming to tuck his father into bed after a long night who knows where. He'd made some trust with this cat, feeding it leftover fish from the pub and giving it milk from time to time. He assumed it was a stray that his father took in because his loneliness was killing him. Van's replacement. Van clicked his tongue. The cat was emaciated, ribs showing and all. This was no way to live. If Van was rescuing himself, he could make room for one more on the ship to salvation. He just hoped this cat was up for the adventure.

Van scooped up the cat and put him in his backpack. He curled up quite nicely in there. He must have known Van was trying to save him.

That was that. With all the moving and shuffling Van had done in the house, his father still hadn't sat up to see what the commotion was.

Van left without saying goodbye.

As Van was walking along the road out of town, he thought about Lalo. Their friendship had fallen apart ever since that day.

That fateful day.

It was Sunday.

Lalo and his friends were day drinking at the tavern and he'd come all the way to Van's pasture to find him and tell him to quit working for the day. Van had listened, for once. He wasn't one to spare any expense when caring for his animals. Lalo had helped him round up his sheep and put them back in their pen for the day. They'd not even washed up before they headed to resume their merriment.

The two of them were the last ones to leave.

Maybe Lalo had suspected him all along. Maybe he'd know what Van had been thinking of him. Maybe he'd been too afraid to say anything about it sober, risking his reputation and his street cred with his friends... but he thought he could explore all of it under the influence of drink. So they did.

Not for very long. It was a short time. But the hungry way Lalo kissed him was borne into his soul like a brand. It was nothing like the sweet love he'd bad to Petra. It was hard. It had hurt. It was rough. It was dirty. Van hated that he'd done it. All those years of fantasizing about his friend, a friend he didn't want to think of in such a carnal way... summed up to the heaviest guilt he'd felt in his life. And he walked away. For good.

He avoided Lalo after that day. Even when Lalo was begging him to stay. He put on his pants and disappeared, kept to himself as much as he could. He say Lalo less and less, and it hurt him, to watch a friendship die like that. He felt responsible for ruining it. What was worst of all, was that he told no one.

Lalo had chased him, asked him why. Why couldn't they try things out. Asked him if he hadn't been good enough in bed, if he didn't like boys like he thought he did. That wasn't it. It wasn't a question Van knew the answer to. Not right then. In short, Van told him he wanted to try it, and he did. He wished he never did. Not with him.

Van later realized it was that he placed such a price on Lalo and his affection that when he finally paid it... the cost was too much for too little. He thought sleeping with him would provide clarity to all his confusion... make him feel better. He thought it would give him closure and maybe even a relationship. He thought he could make something with Lalo like he'd made with Petra. Something beautiful and safe and sacred. At least he wanted to think that. But Van found out... the things he loved, truly loved, about Lalo, he had made up.

He never told him that. It would've hurt him too much.

Before he knew it, he was on the edge of town. He was really leaving. He'd made his plan before leaving his front door: travel the day to Lola, the nearest town near the base of the mountains, get a room, and in the morning find a wagon to take him north. While in thought, a deep, baritone voice roused him. A passerby on the road.

"You leaving?"

Van turned.

Speak of the devil.

"Oh... yeah. I am."

His lazy eye was squinting against the mid-afternoon sun, shining right in his face. By his bags, Lalo assumed Van was leaving for good.

"Well... I'll make sure your old man takes care of your flock."

The statement sat in Van's stomach like a stone.

"Thank you... I'm sure he'll need reminding."

Van wanted to hug Lalo goodbye. He missed Lalo's hugs. The hugs that he cherished and savored in secret where he'd smell his clothes and wonder what it was like to kiss him. Before Lalo ever knew what his insides felt like.

Hugging him now, he couldn't stomach the thought. The only hug he thought of now was the one locked in close with sweaty grunts in some foreign animal language. He felt bad, knowing Lalo probably wanted the same thing.

Van was quiet for a minute as they stood there, shoulder to shoulder facing opposite sides of their destiny.

"I'll miss you, Van. Maybe one day we can talk... about everything."

Van felt strange tears prick at the back of his eyes.

"Yeah... maybe one day we can... I'd like to."

"Me too."

"Take care of yourself, Lalo."

"You too."

And as Lalo's footsteps were the last to sound behind him, Van was off to start his new life.

[doctor-yamagishi]

Persona Skills, Stats and Base Relationships

(Going to do a description of each of the skill's for Nobu's persona in Persona 4 as his abilities are slightly different in Persona 5, as well as the stat progression in the game. Last will be the default relationships after his awakening. Going under the cut.)

Persona: Valentine->Aesclepius->Aether (Aether Nox as a tainted variant.)

Skill 1: Protection->Shelter->Refuge->Divine Guard

Protection: Can generate a reflective spell in advance of a shadows attack in battle. For attacks that hit multiple people, will apply with people weak to the element as priority. Will otherwise be random. SP cost: 35

Shelter: Can apply reflective spells in response to attacks that hit multiple people. SP Cost: 35 for 1 person shield, 140 for full team shield. Obtained at Social Link Rank 5.

Refuge: Reflected attacks now break the reflected attack type instead of doing reflective damage. Reflective break will not affect weak. SP cost: 35 for 1 person shield, 140 for full team shield. Obtained with Valentine's rebirth as Aescleipus.

Divine Guard: Reflected attacks apply reflected type break skill then applies damage and will still not affect weak. SP cost: 35 for 1 person shield, 140 for full team shield. Obtained with Aescleipus rebirth as Aether.

Note 1: In most battles, the leader can select a shadow for Nobu to focus on. This will accelerate how quickly he can use this skill line, but it will also accelerate his SP consumption.

Note 2: This ability is absolutely USELESS against those infused with the power of Izanami aka Adachi, Namatame, and Izanami herself. It's also useless against Marie.

Note 3: This ability doesn't work against Almighty Skills or Status Skills.

Skill 2: Devotion->Dedication

Devotion: Nobu heals 5 SP on every member of the Investigation Team's turns. Doesn't work on 1 More extra turns. Obtained at lvl 58.

Dedication: Nobu heals 4% HP and 7 SP on every member of the Investigation Team's turns. Doesn't work on 1 More extra turns. Obtained at lvl 84.

Note: While in the Hollow Forest for Marie, the effect of this ability is doubled, but Nobu also loses SP after battle.

Skill 3: Sacrificial Blessing.

Sacrificial Blessing: Nobu cuts his current HP and SP in half. Every member of the battle team each heals by same amount of HP and SP as Nobu lost. This move can only be used once per battle.

Stats and Stat Growth: Nobu starts with 21 in Magic, Endurance, and Luck and 20 in Agility and Strength. At lvl 99, all stats are at 80 if no visits to the Movie Theater occurs.

Nobu's persona alignment is with Persona 3, so at lvl 99, both his HP and SP become 999, but with his persona being support based, this only maximizes Sacrificial Blessing.

Relationship:

Yu: Team Leader, Underclassman, and Friend. Yu serves as the leader and thus Nobu trusts his judgment and offers his support whenever possible. Yu helps Nobu to be willing to be vulnerable around others. Nobu serves to try and dissuade Yu and the guys from going into the bath house while the girls are in there. Nobu also tries to dissuade them from going into the girls room just cause of what they think is Mayumi's voice in their room.

Madoka: Team Leader, Underclassman, Friend, Potential Love Interest. Madoka serves as a co-leader with Yu or as the sole leader, so for the most part what applies to Yu applies to Madoka. Nobu is dateable. Upon Yu's return, Nobu offers Nanako and Madoka a ride in his car now that he has a driver's license. If signed up for the Beauty Pageant, Madoka does Nobu's outfit for the cross-dressing pageant.

Yosuke: Underclassman,Teammate, Turbulent Friend. Yosuke and Nobu are friends, but Nobu tends to act in ways that counteract Yosuke. E.g., blowing the fact that he signed all the girls up for the Beauty Pageant or trying to dissuade Yosuke and Teddie from trying to peer over the wall of the bath house. Yosuke signs Nobu up as revenge for the cross-dressing pageant.

Yukiko: Underclassman, Teammate, Comedic Source, Friend. Nobu keeps the gag glasses as a source that Yukiko can ask for him to put on, much to many of the team's chagrin. Nobu scores about the same as Yukiko on tests and their status makes them get along somewhat, though Yukiko does appreciate Nobu.

Margaret: Comrade in Yu's journey. They both support Yu in their own way and Nobu gets pulled into the Hollow Forest when Margaret pulls the team in.

Kanji: Underclassman, Teammate, Friend. Nobu's demeanor makes Kanji a bit more comfortable with how he is at heart, but not enough to change until during Yu's departure.

Dojima: Friendly. Nobu much like the rest of the team bond with Nanako, much to Dojima's delight. Nobu tries to convince Dojima about the danger to Nanako when she is kidnapped. After Adachi is caught and things are cleared up, the relationship is cordial and friendly.

Rise: Underclassman, Co-support, Friend, Teaser. Rise and Nobu serve as the support for the Investigation Team, so they spend some time chatting when not confronting shadows in the TV world. Rise tends to tease Nobu about his crush on Chie when confronted about her hogging time with Yu.

Chie: Underclassman, Teammate, Friend, Crush. Nobu serves as a think-first-act-later counterpoint to Chie. However, Nobu takes an interest in Martial Arts as a way for him to help people that are in danger. Nobu helps Chie to study.

Nanako: Friend, Doctor. Nobu treats Nanako much like the others, though he also tends to go against the guy to try and make sure Nanako is happy. E.g., telling the guys that he didn't want to spoil Nanako's time in the bath house just cause it was their time during their trip at the Amagi Inn. Nobu's specialty with Jungian Psychology makes him the person to try and treat Nanako after she ends up in the Hospital.

Fox: Teammate. The Fox is a teammate for their journey within the TV world and Nobu tends to keep an eye to make sure the Fox isn't suffering under the effects.

Naoto: Underclassman, Teammate, Friend, Second Opinion. Nobu and Naoto get along quite well because of their tactical mindset and their skills sets. After realizing that Namatame isn't the killer, Nobu provides some additional circumstances to put suspicion on Adachi as the killer.

Shu: Underclassman. Nobu joins the rest of the investigation team when they go to wish Shu a happy birthday.

Teddie: Teammate, Friend, Life Teacher. Nobu's excessive experience for his age and the experience counters Teddie's lack of experience for his age. Teddie doesn't let him get it down and Nobu does what he can to work with that aspect of Teddie, though it does seem to exasperate him with all of Teddie's energy.

Adachi: Cordial, Friendly, Enemy. At first, Nobu trusts Adachi as he is a detective and thus a civil servant. Nobu gives Adachi some alternative way to look at the serial murder case between Mayumi, and Saki, only furthering Adachi's knowledge of the groups identity as the one's interrupting his fun. After Nanako's kidnapping, Nobu does draw supsicion regarding only Namatame's file being pulled out, but discounts its as an act of haste.

Marie: Acquantances, Friend. Marie addresses Nobu as "specs" as Nobu is the only member of the team that wears glasses outside of the TV world. Nobu tries to help Marie regain her memory by looking at the comb. Nobu assists with rescuing Marie from the Hollow Forest.

[mishinashen]

Self-Portrait by Alphonse Mucha, 1899

Alfons Maria Mucha (Czech: 24 July 1860 – 14 July 1939), known internationally as Alphonse Mucha, was a Czech painter, illustrator, and graphic artist, living in Paris during the Art Nouveau period, best known for his distinctly stylized and decorative theatrical posters, particularly those of Sarah Bernhardt. He produced illustrations, advertisements, decorative panels, and designs, which became among the best-known images of the period.

In the second part of his career, at the age of 43, he returned to his homeland of Bohemia-Moravia region in Austria and devoted himself to painting a series of twenty monumental canvases known as The Slav Epic, depicting the history of all the Slavic peoples of the world, which he painted between 1912 and 1926. In 1928, on the 10th anniversary of the independence of Czechoslovakia, he presented the series to the Czech nation. He considered it his most important work. It is now on display in Prague.

Alphonse Mucha was born on 24 July 1860 in the small town of Ivančice in southern Moravia, then a province of the Austrian Empire (currently a region of the Czech Republic). His family had a very modest income; his father Ondřej was a court usher, and his mother Amálie was a miller's daughter. Ondřej had six children, all with names starting with A. Alphonse was his first child with Amálie, followed by Anna and Anděla.

Alphonse showed an early talent for drawing; a local merchant impressed by his work provided him with paper for free, though it was considered a luxury. In the preschool period, he drew exclusively with his left hand. He also had a talent for music: he was an alto singer and violin player

After completing volksschule, he wanted to continue with his studies, but his family was not able to fund them, as they were already funding the studies of his three step-siblings] His music teacher sent him to Pavel Křížkovský, choirmaster of St Thomas's Abbey in Brno, to be admitted to the choir and to have his studies funded by the monastery. Křížovský was impressed by his talent, but he was not able to admit and fund him, as he had just admitted another talented young musician, Leoš Janáček.

Křížovský sent him to a choirmaster of the Cathedral of St. Peter and Paul, who admitted him as a chorister and funded his studies at the gymnasium in Brno, where he received his secondary school education. After his voice broke, he gave up his chorister position, but played as a violinist during masses.

He became devoutly religious, and wrote later, "For me, the notions of painting, going to church, and music are so closely knit that often I cannot decide whether I like church for its music, or music for its place in the mystery which it accompanies." He grew up in an environment of intense Czech nationalism in all the arts, from music to literature and painting. He designed flyers and posters for patriotic rallies.

His singing abilities allowed him to continue his musical education at the Gymnázium Brno in the Moravian capital of Brno, but his true ambition was to become an artist. He found some employment designing theatrical scenery and other decorations. In 1878 he applied without success to the Academy of Fine Arts in Prague, but was rejected and advised to "find a different career". In 1880, at the age of 19, he traveled to Vienna, the political and cultural capital of the Empire, and found employment as an apprentice scenery painter for a company which made sets for Vienna theaters. While in Vienna, he discovered the museums, churches, palaces and especially theaters, for which he received free tickets from his employer. He also discovered Hans Makart, a very prominent academic painter, who created murals for many of the palaces and government buildings in Vienna, and was a master of portraits and historical paintings in grand format. His style turned Mucha in that artistic direction and influenced his later work. He also began experimenting with photography, which became an important tool in his later work.

To his misfortune, a terrible fire in 1881 destroyed the Ringtheater, the major client of his firm. Later in 1881, almost without funds, he took a train as far north as his money would take him. He arrived in Mikulov in southern Moravia, and began making portraits, decorative art and lettering for tombstones. His work was appreciated, and he was commissioned by Count Eduard Khuen Belasi, a local landlord and nobleman, to paint a series of murals for his residence at Emmahof Castle, and then at his ancestral home in the Tyrol, Gandegg Castle. The paintings at Emmahof were destroyed by fire in 1948, but his early versions in small format exist (now on display at the museum in Brno). He showed his skill at mythological themes, the female form, and lush vegetal decoration. Belasi, who was also an amateur painter, took Mucha on expeditions to see art in Venice, Florence and Milan, and introduced him to many artists, including the famous Bavarian romantic painter, Wilhelm Kray, who lived in Munich.

Count Belasi decided to bring Mucha to Munich for formal training, and paid his tuition fees and living expenses at the Munich Academy of Fine Arts. He moved there in September 1885. It is not clear how Mucha actually studied at the Munich Academy; there is no record of his being enrolled as a student there. However, he did become friends with a number of notable Slavic artists there, including the Czechs Karel Vítězslav Mašek and Ludek Marold and the Russian Leonid Pasternak, father of the famous poet and novelist Boris Pasternak. He founded a Czech students' club, and contributed political illustrations to nationalist publications in Prague. In 1886 he received a notable commission for a painting of the Czech patron saints Cyril and Methodius, from a group of Czech emigrants, including some of his relatives, who had founded a Roman Catholic church in the town of Pisek, North Dakota. He was very happy with the artistic environment of Munich: he wrote to friends, "Here I am in my new element, painting. I cross all sorts of currents, but without effort, and even with joy. Here, for the first time, I can find the objectives to reach which used to seem inaccessible." However, he found he could not remain forever in Munich; the Bavarian authorities imposed increasing restrictions upon foreign students and residents. Count Belasi suggested that he travel either to Rome or to Paris. With Belasi's financial support, he decided in 1887 to move to Paris.

Mucha moved to Paris in 1888 where he enrolled in the Académie Julian[18] and the following year, 1889, Académie Colarossi. The two schools taught a wide variety of different styles. His first professors at the Academie Julien were Jules Lefebvre who specialized in female nudes and allegorical paintings, and Jean-Paul Laurens, whose specialties were historical and religious paintings in a realistic and dramatic style. At the end of 1889, as he approached the age of thirty, his patron, Count Belasi, decided that Mucha had received enough education and ended his subsidies.

When he arrived in Paris, Mucha found shelter with the help of the large Slavic community. He lived in a boarding house called the Crémerie at 13 rue de la Grande Chaumière, whose owner, Charlotte Caron, was famous for sheltering struggling artists; when needed she accepted paintings or drawings in place of rent. Mucha decided to follow the path of another Czech painter he knew from Munich, Ludek Marold, who had made a successful career as an illustrator for magazines. In 1890 and 1891, he began providing illustrations for the weekly magazine La Vie populaire, which published novels in weekly segments. His illustration for a novel by Guy de Maupassant, called The Useless Beauty, was on the cover of 22 May 1890 edition. He also made illustrations for Le Petit Français Illustré, which published stories for young people in both magazine and book form. For this magazine he provided dramatic scenes of battles and other historic events, including a cover illustration of a scene from the Franco-Prussian War which was on 23 January 1892 edition.

His illustrations began to give him a regular income. He was able to buy a harmonium to continue his musical interests, and his first camera, which used glass-plate negatives. He took pictures of himself and his friends, and also regularly used it to compose his drawings. He became friends with Paul Gauguin, and shared a studio with him for a time when Gauguin returned from Tahiti in the summer of 1893. In late autumn 1894 he also became friends with the playwright August Strindberg, with whom he had a common interest in philosophy and mysticism.

His magazine illustrations led to book illustration; he was commissioned to provide illustrations for Scenes and Episodes of German History by historian Charles Seignobos. Four of his illustrations, including one depicting the death of Frederic Barbarossa, were chosen for display at the 1894 Paris Salon of Artists. He received a medal of honor, his first official recognition.

Mucha added another important client in the early 1890s; the Central Library of Fine Arts, which specialized in the publication of books about art, architecture and the decorative arts. It later launched a new magazine in 1897 called Art et Decoration, which played an early and important role in publicizing the Art Nouveau style. He continued to publish illustrations for his other clients, including illustrating a children's book of poetry by Eugène Manuel, and illustrations for a magazine of the theater arts, called La Costume au théâtre.

[ifbeumont]

Random question but since Baskerville Academy has a Theater group, do they also have choir (since many churches have them and they add a certain flair to the prayers) and instrumental group? I totally imagine my MC being a musical genius lol and wondered how the Academy ROs would think about that? Like is it regarded a great skill or more like „this is useless“ (looking at you Constantine)? And, since being a prefect takes too much time so MC isn’t able to be a part of other groups anymore, how would the outsiders ROs react to idk hearing the MC sing and it’s like „you could sing in a band“ level?

They do have a choir and an instrumental group (although both are only for mass purposes).

If the MC is a musical genius, the academic ROs (Marshall and Constantine) would both respect them for that. Marshall is actually tone-deaf so they would be pretty amazed, though they would pretend to be calm about it. Although Constantine doesn't particularly like music (because music in Baskerville is bland and repetitive, it's mostly for brainwashing purposes), they do acknowledge that it takes great talent and hard work to sing/play instruments well.

For the third question, the outsider ROs would react like this:

Sharp: "We should start a band after we leave this cult! You be the vocalist, Chambers will be the guitarist, while I'm the uh...drummer? It's just hitting the drums, right?"

Chambers: "If you were in the outside world right now, I bet you would've been scouted for some singing contest TV show by now. It's a waste, honestly. You shouldn't be restricted from using your talent to its fullest potential."

[jungle321jungle]

Snippets Of 10 “New” Fics

So I have a million fics and instead of finishing them since the brain juice won’t go I start new ones that have yet to see the light of day. So I thought it would be nice to share some random things from these ten random fics. Some of these stories serious and some are not, same goes for the snippets. Enjoy!

1. Amnesiac Virgil is the superhero Levin, but he can’t remember who he is so he goes to a man who hunts heroes for a living, Logan:

“Many hackers have a signature correct? Just a certain way in which they do things?” Logan asked.

“I guess.”

“Then depending on what you hacked in the past we may be able to follow your signature and get more clues on past you. Erasing a criminal history is a good place to start. Maybe you left a clue behind. Even if you didn’t, whatever you were arrested for was enough to warrant erasing, so it must be tied to your real identity.”

Levin blinked slowly as understanding came to him, before he gave a smile. “When can we start?”

“It’s going to be a while, I’m going to need to do things the legal way. Which takes time. I have to convince my bosses, and then we have to go through a whole lot of people and data. It’s gonna be a while.”

“So, like a month?”

“Oh you’re home already?” Levin asked from where he laid on the couch watching TV. “Guess what? Esteban was the father of Mirella’s baby. But only one of the twin’s. Luis is the father of the other.”

Logan took a deep breath, “I took the key I gave you back.”

“I had made a copy,” the fallen hero replied, reaching for a bowl of popcorn. “Oh but be proud of me! You said I contributed nothing, so I cleaned. Your kitchen is now spotless.”

Logan took another breath as he tried to suppress his annoyance as he moved into the kitchen. It was indeed clean, but normally clean kitchens didn’t smell this much like ozone. “Did you try cooking with your powers again?”

Levin gave an awkward laugh, “What? No, no… not at all.”

~~~~

2. Virgil is a human playwright amongst a high society of demons and other monsters

It had been three years since the war which ended in the eradication of most humans in the kingdom had ended. Those surviving humans were left to fend as worthless beings on the streets, live as pets for the masters, or to become livestock.

After a fall from a horse during his childhood left Virgil needing a cane, and he never joined the army as most did. Rather he kept himself locked in either his home or the theater working on his writings at the behest of the now Former Queen who had wanted to keep the spirits of those who remained in the capital as high as possible. He had fallen asleep in his home office writing his newest piece when the city had fallen. Screams had awoken him and then it wasn’t long before the hulking form of a demon entered his little study. Virgil had had little time to even begin to cry before the man was looming over him, reaching for him- reaching for- for the papers on his desk?

“It is you!” The demon had shouted in a deep voice with a large toothy grin which had easily erased the little strength left in Virgil’s legs. “I’ve read your plays.”

Panic had rendered Virgil’s mouth and motor skills useless. Tears streamed from his eyes, and the demon leaned down closer and closer to him, it’s protruding horns looking almost like daggers to cut him with.

“I have some notes for you.”

~~~~

3. Virgil and Janus are ex husbands that divorced cuz they were too young for all of it. Years later they now work together… but Janus has a Logan

“I’m sorry,” Virgil blurted suddenly. “I’m sure you don’t want to do this.”

Janus gave a shrug but it’s clear he felt awkward as well, “Work is work. But if you’re uncomfortable, let me know?”

“I will,” Virgil promised. But seeing Janus’ expression of disbelief he added, “But if it’s okay with you, can conversation just stick to work for now?”

“It can, on one condition.”

Virgil paused. There were too many things Janus could ask him for. Did he want to pretend things never happened? Did he want to just stick to work forever? Or was this one of his games? “What is it?” He asked cautiously.

“Tell me… in general, are you okay?”

The question did catch Virgil off guard, but it was also that Janus way of caring that Virgil had once loved. So he gave a slight smile along with a nod, “I am.”

“Disappointing.”

“W-what?”

“I won’t lie, it would have been nice to hear you cry your eyes out thinking of me every night but hearing that you’re good is a close second.”

Virgil could never hate the way Janus knew how to make him relax. “Are you sure that’s not what you do?”

Janus took a seat at the computer, “Did we not just agree to talk about work Mr. Storm?”

Virgil sat down in the chair beside the desk before he responded, “Storm-Ekans.” At Janus’ gaze Virgil looked to the computer screen rather than in those eyes. “I use Storm, but that’s what it is legally at least. I never bothered with the paperwork enough to change it back.”

“So you really haven’t changed then.”

“You're supposed to be teaching me Mr. Ekans.”

Janus rolled his eyes, but there was a slight smile on his face. “Then listen carefully. You know I don’t like to repeat myself.”

~~~~

4. Virgil’s Ex had a baby and never told him

Many unexpected things had happened over the course of Virgil’s life. And each surprise seemed to be trying to outdo the last in terms of scale, so naturally after his mother had announced she was moving to be with some guy in the Caribbean, he was scared about what would come next. But at the very least fate had allowed him to have a couple years to settle himself before the other shoe dropped. Or perhaps it had simply been allowing him to get complacent. But either way, that shoe was determined to be his ex banging on his door with a toddler in her arms.

“Oh thank god, you do still live here!”

To which Virgil intelligently responded, “Why do you?”

Her previously frantic expression instantly shifted to one of annoyance, “You're drunk.”

“It’s the twinzees birthday,” Virgil attempted in his defense before he glanced at the child which seemed to be half awake. “Party’s nahfar kids though…”

“Does Patton still live here? He doesn’t drink.”

Virgil nodded and invited her inside and with his best manners slurred as he asked her if he could take her coat.

“I’m not wearing- where’s Patton?”

“Kitchen. We’re gonna cut cake… it’s cream cheese flavor.”

It was then that Remus shouted something unhelpfully which began the start of an argument, but unfortunately, that’s where Virgil’s memories of the night stopped.

“Well at least you remember her showing up kiddo!” Patton encouraged, as he looked over to where the boy was eating a snack Patton had gotten him.

“And he forgot about the part that he has a son,” Roman put in. “I think that’s more important- actually I think what’s more important is the fact that Virgil was with a woman at all.”

“Let’s not,” Virgil cringed. “Patton what else am I missing?”

“A family medical emergency is taking her out of town, and she’s got no one to watch Janus here,” His roommate explained. “And she can’t take him with her since she’s going to be staying at home to take care of her parents and doesn’t want to expose him. She said thinks she’ll be back in about ten days. Also she dropped off everything we would need, there’s even a detailed list… oh, and he’s three.”

~~~~

5. From the Sequel to Ask No Questions (I’ll Tell No Lies)

Janus had gotten over and gotten through many things in his life.

As a child he had endured his mother’s death, and gotten through his father’s depression. He had gotten over his father dating again. He had gotten over his father’s marriage, and gotten through his new step mother. He had gotten through the snickers others gave at his new working mother and his stay at home father. He had gotten over the way his step mother tried too hard to be his parent. He had gotten over how even now she still treated him like a child, and he had gotten through her talking down to other people. He had bit his tongue and gotten through his step mother’s condescending tone as she would look down her nose to those she deemed beneath her. He had gotten over and gotten through this woman he had come to love- but he’d never forgive her.

He had been eleven when he had realized how large the differences between the two of them were. Sure he had seen the differences before- the physical ones. He had gone from a small home, to a mansion full of servants. He had gone from nothing to getting anything and everything he wanted as long as he forced himself into the model son mold. He had seen how he had gone from cheap food and clothes to lavish dinners and custom suits. He had experienced the physical differences- but when he was thirteen he realized how deep the chasm between him and his step mother was.

It was shouting which had drawn him out his room and down the stairs, it was curiosity which had pulled him to watch, and it was shock that had kept him frozen in place.

She was there- screaming and yelling at the top of her lungs at a housekeeper who was comforting her crying son beside her. Janus knew the boy. He had seen him hiding in the corners of large rooms making himself scarce so as not to give away his presence. Janus had tried to talk to him- to learn his name but the boy was a quiet one. He would shake or nod his head and nothing more, and he’d try to make any “conversation” as short as possible. Given the boy’s smaller size Janus had assumed he was younger, and earlier that day Janus had chosen to give him an old toy... the very toy Janus’s step mother held in her hands as she screamed. From her lips spilled so many insults and curses at the two, and the kindest one had been “thief”. She had made a spectacle of the two. She had yelled at the housekeeper to strip and empty her pockets because if her “disgrace of a child” stole that meant she must have as well.

Janus had inserted himself before he had even realized. He had told his stepmother quickly that he had given the toy away, but it did nothing to phase her anger. Rather she pursed her lips and she leaned down to look him in the eye, “People like them will always try to use you Janus. Don’t fall for it next time.”

Before he could even speak she had turned and her heels were clicking down the hall as she walked off leaving only a “You’re fired” to hang in the air as she left.

Janus had seen the physical differences between his step mother and himself, but what he hadn’t seen were her beliefs. That she truly believed she was naturally better than those who were working hard for their money as opposed to being born in it- as if Janus’ father hadn’t been a mechanic and his birth mother a bartender- as if he had been born into this life. The abyss between the two of them was large and ever stretching- so he’d never forgive her.

But then again, she never seemed to notice.

~~~~

6. Virgil’s not sure if it’s a dream or a cruel reality but his Dad (Janus) seems to come back to life late at night

Virgil forced himself to do as he was told, matching his breathing to the man who was by his side- holding him close- to the man who looked, smelled, sounded, and felt like his father. He wasn’t sure when he gained the ability to breathe because the moment he could he was sobbing into the man’s side.

Dad was holding him, humming, apologizing, and Virgil was squeezing him back just as tightly as he could, scared the man would vanish once more. “Are you real?” Virgil choked out.

“I think so,” Dad chuckled. “I’m not sure how, but I’m glad I am.”

“You died,” Virgil said quietly. “You died saving all of them.”

Dad gave a hum, “I know. But more importantly... It is freezing on this roof. You should sit inside or else you’ll catch a cold. Also it’s very late, you have school in the morning.”

Virgil gave a laugh as he pulled back to look Dad in the eye, “Is that really important right now?”

“Are you really asking me if I think my son’s health is important?”

Virgil shook his head in disbelief as he stood, “Fine. Let’s go wake everyone.”

“Let them sleep,” he disagreed. “They also have school and work tomorrow.”

“But-”

“No buts.”

“I forgot how stubborn you are,” Virgil mumbled.

Dad gave a smile as he stood and Virgil led the way inside. Dad thankfully walked carefully and managed not to wake Patton. Virgil gave a soft sigh as he sat on his bed and looked up to Dad once more.

“I haven’t left,” he assured, catching Virgil’s gaze.

“I know but... but what if this isn’t real? What if I’m just dreaming?” Virgil questioned, hating how desperate he felt. “I-I can’t just go to bed.”

Dad paused before he gave a sigh and began undoing his army issued boots. “Lay down, we’ll talk till you fall asleep like we used to.”

“I’m seventeen now,” Virgil mumbled but he did as he was told, making himself comfortable by his Dad’s side. There was a pause before fingers began running through his hair, and he felt as metal was placed in his palm. Dog tags. He used to run his fingers over them tracing every letter when he was young. Doing so was how “Janus Ekans” became the first name he learned how to read, after his own.

“So? I thought you were gonna tell me everything?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

He gave a hum as he thought before he looked down at Virgil with a smile, “Is your favorite movie still that terrible-”

“It’s a good movie!” Virgil defended.

“No it’s not.”

“It is,” Virgil insisted, before he began to make his case. From movies talk shifted to his brothers, to his friends, to his father, and then back around to nothing. Talking about anything at all, because that’s all Virgil wanted from him.

~~~~

7. Janus and Roman bought a new house, and Roman can’t help but find the strange box left in the attic more than interesting (title: A Coffin Your Size)

The keys jangled in his hands as he stood on his tip toes and attempted to insert a key into the lock over his head. He was on the third key now, and unfortunately had once again found it was the wrong size to fit in. A noise of frustration left his lips as brought his arms down and flipped over the key on the ring to grab another. This one was smaller than the others, and in a strange way it looked like it was the newest or as if it had never even been used. Roman paid it no mind as he resumed his former position and poked at the lock until the metal key was inserted. He turned it with a smile on his face and grabbed the cord on the wall and pulled. When he did, the doorway to the attic opened and the ladder descended.

“Congrats Ro, it only took you three days,” his husband commented walking out of their room.

“Shut up, Jan.” Roman mumbled as he removed the key from the lock.

“You should put the tape on it, and write on it,” Janus advised.

Roman handed the key over to him, “You can handle it. I’m headed up.”

“Should I bring the boxes?”

“We should see what’s up here first,” Roman disagreed. “We saw the mess they left in the basement, I’m not sure I want to know what’s up here.” When Janus didn’t disagree, Roman grabbed the large flashlight and began the climb up to the attic. The first thing he had noticed was the weight of the heated air. It seemed the dry and still air from the attic had chosen to congregate with the insulation and the July air to give a gross feeling which settled over Roman like a thick blanket. The unsettling feeling it gave him wasn’t one he couldn't ignore but he pushed through it and emerged into the attic above. After he and Janus had explored the basement the day before Roman had expected to find piles and piles of junk filling the attic each covered with a disturbing amount of dust and perhaps it was because he had this picture in mind the reality was even more jarring. The high powered flashlight’s beam cut through the darkness of the attic, illuminating nothing but the insulated covered walls and the dust covered floor. He took a few steps forward looking around in confusion, at the nothingness around him until he took note of the one thing in the entire attic. A box.

The box was wooden and long, perhaps as long as Roman himself, and quite narrow. The wood was a deep brown and Roman quickly found it was smooth to the touch. The box strangely held no dust as if it had rejected anything which would ruin its beautiful exterior. Roman’s hand reached out to touch it slowly and he allowed his fingers to ghost over the smooth finish and he could very well feel the cold air it gave off. Roman’s eyes drifted to the latch before him, and he was surprised to find no lock held the beautiful box closed. His fingers worked easily to undo the latch and then with only a slight amount of effort he lifted the lid. But upon shining the light over the box’s interior, he found it was just as empty as the rest of the attic. Roman’s lips tugged into a frown as his eyes scanned every spot of it he could see, as his mind tried to make sense of why such a beautiful thing would remain empty. It looked as if it should hold something of great value and yet whatever that thing was remained missing. As one of his hands traced the wood grain of the bottom of the empty box his mind couldn’t help but try to imagine what object would be given the honor of-

“Roman!”

Janus’ voice broke through the fog of Roman’s mind with all the care of a bull in a china shop. Roman gave a flinch at the sudden and loud sound. As his husband called for him again, Roman bit his tongue to keep from shouting back as he rose from his spot on the floor and stormed towards the attic ladder to find Janus staring up at him. “What?” Roman bit out.

“Can you hear?” Janus huffed, crossing his arms. “My mom is almost here, do you want to welcome our sons home?”

Roman blinked and with it the lingering fog in his mind receded fully as he descended the ladder.

“Is the mess up there, that bad?” Janus asked him.

Roman shook his head, “There isn't a mess.”

“Then what were you doing up there for an hour?”

An hour? It hadn’t been that long. It had only been a few minutes, hadn’t it? “I-” Roman cut himself off as the doorbell sounded and he made his way towards it, vaguely aware of Janus closing the attic door, and locking it behind them.

~~~~

8. Adventurers Janus and Virgil end up partying up with nobleman Logan who hates everyone and everything… especially the two of them

Virgil gave an uncomfortable swallow of his food before he glanced up to the man’s face. Aside from the “perfection” of appearance that came to nobles naturally even if they stayed in such a cheap tavern he looked good. His hair was a deep black and was pushed back out of his eyes, but while his eyes were a deep blue color they- like a true noble- looked at Virgil like he was filth on a boot. Even so Virgil mustered the courage (after dropping his gaze) to speak, “Can I help you… sir?”

The nobleman gave a scoff and angrily took a bite of the food in front of him but he didn’t say anything more. They ate in an uncomfortable silence before thankfully Janus appeared coming down the stairs and Virgil rushed to his side.

“Help me, that nobleman is trying to bury me alive with his eyes.”

Janus didn’t blink, “Understandable.”

“How is that understandable?”

“He thinks we stole his Crest. So of course he hates you.”

“What? Why would he think that?”

“I told him we did.”

Virgil felt a bit of his spirit leave him as he leaned on his friend, “What the fuck is happening? I don’t remember anything.”

“Well, last night you said that if I found a person to help we could take the job. And truthfully before I even spoke to you about the job I took it.”

“You-”

“Anyway last night I went outside for some air and found a family crest on the ground and was trying to figure out who to return it to. Then I came back in to find that guy shouting that someone stole his family crest and was accusing everyone and anyone. So I told him I stole it and I’d only give it back to him if he helped us with a job.”

A moment passed, and then another, and then another. And finally Virgil straightened and put his hands on Janus’ shoulders as he looked right into those beautiful heterochromatic eyes, “Can I strangle you for a minute?”

“I’ll pass on that.”

~~~~

9. Shapeshifter Virgil ends up in the home of a famous vampire (Janus) and the vampire’s boyfriend, a monster hunter (Logan). They later dote on him

When Virgil came to the first thing he noticed was how warm he was. He had been cold, hungry, and tired, but now he was rested, warm, and a comforting hand was rubbing on his back. But he didn’t know where he was, that thought was enough for Virgil’s eyes to snap open wide. His gaze flickered about taking in the large room about him before he leaped out of the hands of the person who held him and onto the floor. He felt his back raise and a hiss escaped his mouth as he stared up at the man.

The man gave him a look of surprise, but ultimately he slowly climbed down from his chair and reached forward with what he probably thought was a comforting smile but when he did, it allowed Virgil to see his fangs. That’s all it took for Virgil to revert to his human form and scramble towards what looked like an exit only to nearly run into a man. A man with a crossbow strapped to his back and a very clear adventurer’s badge around his neck, and directly beside the signature eagle pendant of a monster hunter.

The hunter looked past Virgil to the vampire, “I told you he wasn’t a normal cat.”

The vampire rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes you’re always right, love.”

The hunter’s gaze shifted back to Virgil with an unaffected gaze. “You're injured and malnourished, sit I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Would I fetch a better price well fed?” Virgil snapped.

“No. But if you intend to walk around Handel Forest on your own, you need rest first.”

“Handel?” Virgil echoed quietly, his eyes drifting to the vampire. Was... was he The Vampire of the Forest? Since he was a child Virgil had heard the stories of Handel Forest, it was there that an old vampire lived, one quite fond of speaking with his fangs before his words. He was angry, unruly, and he’d attack anyone who dared to step on his turf regardless of race. That vampire was the subject of so many legends and Virgil could recall when he was young enough to truly believe the adults when they said they’d sacrifice naughty children to the vampire of legend. Virgil had never wanted to venture deep enough into the Forest to come anywhere near the Vampire’s Manor and yet here he was stuck between a monster hunter and a vampire... maybe he should have stayed in his burning village.

“Logan, you didn’t put enough sugar in my tea,” The vampire complained.

The hunter crossed his arms, “You don’t need to have that much sugar. You need to eat healthier.”

“What for? I’m a vampire.”

“How many times must we have this conversation?” 

“Every time you don’t make my tea the way I like.”

~~~~

10. Virgil loves the exchange student(ish) Janus and so does Logan. But Janus is engaged due to an arranged thing and to make things even more complicated, Virgil keeps getting headaches and flashbacks as if he’s seen this all before but this snippet is not about that

“Oh I heard the graduation fair is going to be earlier this year,” Janus continued. “Probably right after spring break.”

Virgil gave a frown, “I'm going to need to ask my parents for cap and gown money then.”

“Are you gonna do graduation pictures?”

“Roman and Patton want to, so I might get roped into it but I don’t want to pay for a photographer.”

“I could take them,” Janus offered.

“What?”

“I like photography. I don’t get to do it too much, but I have the equipment.”

“Then why the hell haven’t you been offering your services to the campus for a nice price?” At Janus’ simple blink in confusion, Virgil remembered he was talking to a rich person causing him to sigh, “Never mind. If you took them, what would I owe you in return?”

“You, me, and the others I guess go on a real American Spring Break.”

Virgil gave a grimace, “Are you paying my air fare?”

“If I dared to offer you’d tell me to shove it.”

He was right about that, “Fine, but we’re not leaving the states.”

“But isn't the American Spring Break getting drunk in Mexico?”

“Do you want to go on a trip or not?”

Janus frowned, “Are Miami and New Orleans a no too?”

“If you have to ask.”

“Fine. Then let’s go to that amusement park, it’s not Disney. The other one? They’re all in the same place?”

Virgil paused as he thought, “Sea World?”

Janus shook his head in frustration, before his eyebrows knit. “What is Sea World?”

“Think rollercoasters and whales that are tortured and also kill their handlers.”

“Why do people go?”

“They like whales.”

~~~~

That’s all ten! Maybe one day I’ll actually have them written in whole, until then though, there’s this.

Hope you enjoyed!

[sevensistersofsussex]

Alternate Version - Chapter 3

He’s watched her for days now, only ever coming out at night. He’d been getting nowhere with Stefan and turning the wolves. Each time he tried, they erupted into a shuddering, bloody mess as if he were missing some sort of binding agent to keep their blood from rejecting his. A rumor of a string of deaths caught his attention. Older brunette women were suddenly secluding themselves from loved ones and work then dying a few weeks later. Klaus wouldn’t be overly concerned with this if he hadn’t noticed the pattern was following, at a distance, the route he’d been taking with Stefan. Whichever vampire was behind the killings was drawing parallel lines on a map, following along but never intersecting.

He was curious and the further Stefan fell into his stupor the less entertaining he became. On a whim, Klaus followed the rumors to a quiet cul-de-sac in a suburb just outside Memphis. His upper lip curled the first time he saw her leaving the house. She was meant to die in that ritual and stay dead. But he hid in the shadows, watching her day after day. She only ever left at night and always arm and arm with the owner of the house.

He watched from a distance as she leaned her head on the woman’s shoulder, clearly acting out some kind of deluded fantasy. When he’d had enough of witnessing a lion lay with its prey, he tested the magic prohibiting his entrance until one day she slipped up and there was no longer an owner of the house able to extend an invitation.

The door to her new bedroom opens after the sun sets. An older woman walks in holding a tray of some of her favorite comfort foods to wake her up. Elena knows she has a name, but she calls her Mom. There’s been a dozen women before her and, if left unchecked, there will be dozens more after her. But Elena can’t think of that right now. For now, she smiles and sits up in bed to take the tray. She pats at the mattress for the woman to take a seat.

She’s in her late forties and she looks enough like Miranda Gilbert to satisfy the part of her heart that will always need her mother. She’s convinced herself enough to play her part in this disturbed theater. Weeks ago, she showed up at Lydia Hargrove’s home with a backpack and a smile. Compulsion turned out to be easier than she thought it would be, an adept skill for Elena Gilbert. Minutes later, she was inside the house and by the next day, Lydia had given her notice at work informing everyone she knew that she was taking a long vacation.

But she’d never left, acting instead as a temporary mother to a motherless eternal teenager. Of course, people had come to check on Lydia, but Elena had left her with specific instructions not to let anyone in and to do whatever it took to get them to leave. The wellness checks were useless. She appeared fine and the police could do nothing, much to the dismay of her family.

Elena scooted over just enough for Lydia to take a seat next to her. She took ahold of the woman’s outstretched arm, pocked with tiny red dots in various healing stages. Elena’s eyes blacked out as her fangs descended, piercing the skin. The two women leaned into the pillows, sliding down the headboard. Elena curled up next her mom, cradling the bleeding wrist to her mouth taking to it like she did as a nursing baby.

She always started off doing well. Each house she entered was a promise to be better, but her grief overtook her each time like waves crashing into the sides of her skull lulling her senses into complacency as her predator brain took over. She’d drain Lydia dry over time like she had the others, each time a horrifying accident as she woke up in bed next to a dead woman.

Her tongue darts out to lick the dripping blood off her hand when she senses someone else in the room and freezes. No one should be here, Elena was sure she’d made her instructions clear.

“Hello?” She shifts under her comforter, pushing the tray to the side and cringing as it topples over the side and crashes loudly into the hardwood floor. She peers over the side and back to the open doorway, where Klaus is leaning jauntily to one side.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Elena.”

“I am.”

“You and I had a deal.”

“You broke our deal when you killed Jenna.” She’s embarrassed that he’s caught her like this, ashamed that anyone should see her like this. Even him. The shame is excellent kindling feeding into her hatred toward him.

“You and your friends took away my other options,” he explains as simply as though he were substituting an out-of-stock item for something similar. “What was a man to do?”

“What are you doing here?” She wants to ask him about Stefan, but she’s too afraid that by saying his name she might summon him here and she can’t bear for him to see her like this.

“I’m having issues.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

“Along those lines, yes. I’m having trouble turning the wolves into more.” She watches him move through her bedroom, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. His weight shifts the bed enough and Lydia moves in an uncomfortably stiff way and Elena realizes that is how Klaus was able to make it past the entrance to her home. She’d made another mistake. Killed another mother.

“Were you meant to? Breaking your curse was for you. Are you even sure you should be able to create….more of you?” She doesn’t understand why he’s divulging so much with her, but the longer she can keep him talking the longer she gets to live.

“How are you alive? Undead? Whatever you prefer to call it. Which brother gave you his blood?”

“Damon did it.” An emotion she can’t quite pin down flashes behind his eyes, but it’s gone too quickly for her to roll the meaning out. “You weren’t going to give us more time. We tried something, but it didn’t work.” The grief in her heart includes John too. Bonnie was strong enough but didn’t have the experience to perform such an advanced spell and her father died for nothing. Another blemish that she’ll punish herself over for the rest of her life.

“Of course, he did. Tell me, love, are you travelling with him here? Is your heart so fickle that you cast Stefan out the moment he left town? Have you foolishly chosen the wrong brother?”

“No, I’m here alone.” She knows it’s a dangerous admission, but she doesn’t fear death anymore. At this point, it would be a relief.

“This is a sick way to live. You’re a vampire now. You should act like one. Curling up in bed with your food? Not the appropriate way to hunt.”

“Are you lecturing me?”

“Perhaps. I could show you the proper way to go about this business.”

“There are about a million ways I could torture myself before I’d let that happen.” She knows she’s edging towards the limits of his tolerance, but she can’t help bait him like she’s hoping he’ll end her misery if she talks back enough.

“You and Stefan are two sides of the same coin. Is that what draws him so strongly to you? Your shared guilt. Certainly, I can sympathize with his initial attraction to this face.” She flinches back when he reaches out to touch her face. It enrages him and he lunges over Lydia’s corpse to grab her firmly at the back of her neck, twisting her face to him. His breathe is hot on her lips and for a lurching moment she dreads the worst. But he just stares at her. “I got over the pull of your face centuries ago, love. You no longer do it for me.” Her stomach coils at the thought that her face ever “did it” for Klaus.

“Congratulations? So, why are you here then?”

“You’re a problem. A pretty little Petrova problem. You are not being careful enough. You can’t keep feeding the way you are otherwise you’ll expose us all. You’re like a sad serial killer.”

“I’m not a serial killer,” she objects out loud, but she knows her body count is stacking higher than she wants to admit. She’s been writing the names in the back of her journal.

“You’re picking out similar women. Older. Single. Childless. Then you spend at most three weeks with them before you kill them.” He holds his hands up as if conceding to a point she hadn’t made yet. “Certainly, you don’t mean to, love, but that doesn’t change the fact that you kill them. It’s almost worse that it is an accident isn’t it? It would be better if you’d meant to do it.”

“It hurts so much,” her voice falters and she hates herself more for it. More for letting it happen in front of him. “I’ve messed up. I keep messing up. I can’t go back.” She has no one to share this secret with and so he’s blessed with her admission.

“So don’t. Move forward. Let go of all that is holding you back.” Her tears spill down her cheek and each exhale is overwrought with a demanding, choking inhale. Her throat is constricting, but she can’t focus enough to calm down. It’s been like this since she woke up a vampire. With no one around to help her through her transition, she’s given in completely to the feelings that flood her body.

His hands are on either side of her face now, focusing her eyes on him. “Let it go, then,” he repeats himself and she understands now what he means. She tries to shake her head, but he is too strong, and he holds her in place. “Let your humanity go!”

She blinks through the compulsion. Her tears are drying on her skin when her eyes flutter open again. His fingers trace the hollow of her throat, and she wonders in a detached way if he was lying to her earlier about having severed his attraction to her face.

As if she’s made him uncomfortable under her gaze, he stands up and backs away from her. “You’ll thank me for this later. Without your humanity, you’ll learn how to be a proper vampire. No more of this nonsense,” he waves to the deadly domestic scene she’s been playing at for months now.

By the time he’s gone, she can see the sunlight peeking through the blackout curtains. She’ll have to spend another day here, annoyed now that she didn’t take Damon’s daylight ring before she’d left. She sighs, kicking Lydia’s body to the floor and settles back into bed to sleep the day away until she can leave.

I wanted to share this original draft of chapter three that I scrapped when I realized I wanted this story to be only Elena's POV and also for the reveal to Klaus that she's still alive to be WAY more dramatic. But I also want this to see the light of day.

[internalsealpanic]

Dick Grayson x Mercenary Reader HCs Part 1

a/n: This is basically a Dick Grayson/ Reader thingy that has been stuck in my head for months but I haven’t plotted out an actual fic for. Basically, I have the relationship mapped out in my head but I have no scenarios. I was hoping someone could suggest a plot I can play with. This part is mostly platonic with hints of a future relationship. This is pretty much in a weird version of canon running around in my head. 

masterlist

You’re Deathstroke’s apprentice. (This version is the version from the Knights and Dragons movie so he isn't a complete and utter asshole. Look, I just really like that version.) Let's just say you had more moxie than self preservation. It also helps that you’re a meta with a pretty unique power. Anything drawn on your skin turns into a physical object. (You basically have a bunch of permanent markers on you in addition to your usual equipment.)

Dick doesn't like you because of your profession but has a grudging respect for your skill. You think Dick is annoying for getting in the way but you understand that he's just trying to do his best to help the city in his own useless way.

YOU LORDING YOUR HEIGHT OVER DICK WHEN YOU'RE KIDS AND YOU QUIETLY CURSING WHEN YOU STOP GROWING.

You and Dick never set out to be friends. You honestly had no clue when this even started. Maybe it was because you keep accidentally saving each other or maybe because you two have a lot to bond over such as murdered parents and emotionally inept mentors. 

When it actually started: You, in full  costume, recognize your least favourite bird and see that he's crying and that he not only has an ugly bruise in his face but also a bunch of other injuries. you simply sit with him and throw your arms around him letting your muscles relax as if to tell him ‘it's ok and that you’ve got him’. You let him cry into your shoulder. You understand that you have a little more in common than he's willing to admit. You use one of your motion tattoo wings as a cover from the rain and the other to keep Dick warm. When Dick finally calms down enough to think, he's jarred by how nice you are acting. your general demeanor loosened at this point you let your offense show and the very petulant look on your face draws a tired laugh out of Dick. your angry look melts to give way to something resembling relief. You stay there for a while not speaking before Dick decides he needs to leave. Without a fuss you let him go.

After that, instead of fighting each other during encounters, you two kind of just sit together and start talking about what happened since your last encounter. Or you two play rock, paper, scissors to see who ‘won’. 

Dick realizes that your personality is hilariously incompatible with your chosen profession. You rant about how Slade lectures you about learning how to lie better and when they tested how bad you were at it Dick was sure Alfred would politely word it as wooden. you had good control over your body language but you had a look caught between pain and annoyance etched on your face. 

Mini scenario: 

Dick is really stressed out with school and vigilanteing and with Bruce that he just starts wandering around Gotham. 

It was a bad idea. Wandering around Gotham is generally a bad idea especially if your head isn't on straight but there is something relaxing about just wandering around. 

Dick ends up at one of Gotham's old movie theatres. One of those businesses that you're pretty sure is a front for something because you can't wrap your head around how they could possibly still be in business. 

Then there you were a foot from the ticketing windows. His mind instantly recognizes you. You, in turn, recognize him instantly. 

When neither of you launch into an attack, you decide to watch a movie together. After bickering for 15 minutes about what movie you should watch, you decide on a coin toss. Because you won, Dick was subjected to your love of terrible movies. 

You go out for burgers afterwards and joke about the movie. You complain about the bad acting and the ridiculous story line. You even come up with how they should have done it.

Your lunch was spent outside in the parking lot of the burger joint. 

You walk around some more after you explain that you haven't been to this part of Gotham and Dick gives you a mini tour. 

You talk about a mix of mundane teenager things and some complaints about their occupations.

You check your watch and explain that you need to go to the grocery store for ingredients. 

Dick goes with you just because. He won't admit that he's having a lot of fun.

Being teenagers they fuck around. Being exceptionally athletic and intelligent teenagers you fuck around entertainingly. 

At first, you play 'the price is right' because Dick wants to prove he isn't a spoiled rich kid. He doesn't prove jack. You don't do much better but it's on the opposite end. 

You get bored and frustrated so you start a scavenger hunt much to the terror of the other customers. How would you feel about 2 terrors zooming around screaming about butter and backflipping over you?

Dick is busy gloating about his victory when the store gets robbed. Dick can't do anything because right now he is a rich boy extraordinaire and should not be capable of fighting. you on the other hand is sore from losing and just yeets a can into one of the robbers faces. 

Everyone's attention pans to your as you ready to lob another can at them. The robbers run leaving their unconscious friend on the floor bleeding. 

You still pay for the can but ask Dick to get another one. 

 Walking down the street, Dick notices how many take out places are on the way and asks why you don't just eat from there. you simply tell him you like home cooking more. He notes that for next time. 

You exchange phone numbers so you can plan a next time. 

The next time they hang out you both bring homemade snacks to sneak into the theater.

They start hanging out in civvies and do really mundane civilian stuff you want to try and that Dick doesn't get to do enough. 

You become a sort of hub of normality for Dick. He can talk to you about all the weird stuff without worrying about your not getting it or your judging him while also doing the most mind numbingly human things. 

What do they usually talk about:

Casual nerdy stuff

Weird history shit you reads about

Vigilante stuff

Funny henchman stories from the perspective of a vigilante and a higher level henchman

Sometimes they talk about trauma but they only vaguely mention it

They debate over dumb things like whether there's too much variety in cereal. Guess who's on which side. 

Sometimes they discuss fighting techniques. 

Dick teaches you Romani and about the Romani culture

You sometimes explains various myths and superstitions from your own culture

Dick sometimes talks about school and galas and you end up making fun of weird rich people. They also end up making fun of the various rich people who hire you.

You'll talk about almost everything with each other

You bring him to one of your safe houses for a home cooked meal after he tells you how he lives off of cereal. You were horrified. 

The Titans, Batman, and Alfred get really suspicious about Dick's new civilian friend. 

Slade gets suspicious of you frequently visiting certain cities. 

Somehow they figure out that you are the wraith. 

They all lecture Dick about it. 

Slade just finds the whole thing amusing and debates on whether he can actually convince you to give up some of Grayson's secrets. 

I just love the image of them casually hanging out in civvies with Batman questioning Dick's life decisions and what your has been influenced by his relationship with Catwoman while Deathstroke and Wintergreen are just quietly amused by the situation at some point they were worried about you discussing merc stuff but neither talk about current business unless it's safe to. 

Wintergreen isn't particularly worried since Grayson is a good kid. Wintergreen once joked that you should convince him to join their side. You said that Dick didn't have the right personality to be a merc. The irony of this was completely lost on your. 

You spending a ton of your hard earned mercenary money to win a stuffed toy that you think little Rose would want. Dick making fun of you for not getting it then he ends up spending too much money but he eventually gets it. You and Dick pass by a shop and you see the exact same stuffed toy in the shop window for a sixteenth of the fortune you spent at the arcade. Good news though, Rose still has the stuffed toy. 

 Both of you being petty at dance dance revolution. 

When you rant to each other in less than private areas, you rapidly switch languages.

Unbeknownst to Slade, Dick actually knows a bunch of his safe houses and unbeknownst to Dick, those are Deathstroke's safe houses.  You are technically not lying when you say it's yours. 

You have a silent pact not to blow each other's covers unless they deem it completely necessary (when people's lives are at stake). The only person who knows this pact is Jason and they have bought his silence. 

You will both go out of their way to help each other out of a bind. 

Sometimes when Bruce and Alfred are out of town and the stars align to have you visiting for a job, you end up helping Dick babysit. Jason gets confused and defensive at first. You have dealt with distrustful youngins. Neither Rose nor Joey wanted anything to do with you at first. You, however, grew up wanting siblings so you tried your darndest to look after them and it is really fucking hard to not let this munchkin grown on you. 

When you're old enough to hit the club they often go drinking together. You once tried to have you wingman for Dick. Using the ‘fantastic’ negotiating skills you got from mercenary work, you ended up getting the number for yourself. You once told Rose and Joey about it and both of them made lighthearted jokes about it. 

Dick gets confronted by Slade at sword point and asks what his intentions are with his kid (He honestly isn't at all serious but he likes how scared Dick got because the man is terrifying.)

Dick also gets interrogated by Joey and Rose because, you know, this is their big sister. 

You often insist on family dinners at least once every 2 weeks with your siblings, sometimes with their mom (Adeline is kind of not ok with you and Rose being present but is trying her best for Joey's sake), sometimes with their dad, occasionally with their uncle Wintergreen. 

You usually just casually call Slade 'pops'  and you drawls 'dad' when you’re pissed and 'papa' when you’re emotional. You try your damndest to only call him Slade or Deathstroke on the field but sometimes you slip up and calls him pops in the field

You have batnapped each batkid at least once. Batnapping meaning seeing a baby bat and throwing them over your shoulder when you’re pretty sure they’re going to get killed. This isn’t limited to kids. You still do this when they’re adults. The image of you throwing Dick over your shoulder when you two were tiny gives me life but you throwing Dick and/or Jason over your shoulder when they’re huge has me cackling.  

You basically accidentally become a de facto big sister/ mom friend to the batkids purely through your friendship with Dick.

Images from this scenario I can’t get out of my head:

Stargazing

Teaching Dick how to cook. He just ends up going to your place for a meal though. 

Running around during a rain storm huddled under a jacket with Dick because neither of you checked the weather

Casual affection you two share because you’re both tactile people. Casual affection as in just sitting on the couch in each other’s space, bumping shoulders to communicate, leaning on each other, hugging each other when greeting each other, and all that good stuff. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading! I’m really sorry for the grammar and disorganization. 

If you guys are interested in the more bickering dialogue heavy part 2 either comment here or send an ask or pm me. *shrugs* This is just really self indulgent on my part. 

taglist: 

@idkmanicantenglish

@birdy-bat-writes (I will stop tagging you when you run out of good ideas for me.)

[zewninz]

Dialogue Prompts #2

(italic/bold-colored texts = different person)

1. I only have one emotion and it’s anger. Last night you drunk-texted me a hundred heart emojis. Out of anger.

2. I don’t have time to explain how wrong you are . . . actually, it’s going to bother me if I don’t—

3. *name*, I started seeing someone. As in dating or hallucinations?

4. You know what 'fine' stands for? Fucked up, insecure, needy, and emotional.

5. Hey, *name*, I just got home. Where are you guys? The hospital . . . What? Why? *name* swallowed a watermelon seed. So? It’s not like it’s going to start growing in their stomach. . . . we’ll be home in ten minutes.

6. Today, I'm going to show you how not to be a noob at Fortnite.

7. Can we please stop saying the word 'sugar daddy'? Glucose guardian.

8. Have you ever considered . . . not breathing?

9. Guys, there's a monster under my bed and it's really ugly. Honestly, fuck you.

10. I've spent far too long doing this damn makeup to start fucking crying right now.

11. Everyone, hold your horses! Hold them close, cherish them— What? I don’t know, I haven’t slept in three days.

12. I love your eyes, but I love my eyes more because without mine, I can't see yours.

13. Take me to art museums and make out with me. But they said to not touch the masterpieces. That was the smoothest shit I've ever heard.

14. I look at *name* and I just . . . it's like when the Grinch's heart grows three sizes.

15. Question is; do I stay in bed or get out of it? Both. You get out of bed and get in mine. Why are you suddenly so smooth, I—

16. I can't talk to cute people, okay? I don't know how to fucking flirt!

17. Do you guys realize that we never stop tasting our own tongues? How about I taste yours for a change? That was smooth as fuck.

18. How many fucks do I give? Oh, yeah, zero. Therefore your comment is irrelevant.

19. Fuck you. If you want, go ahead.

20. Being single sucks. Maybe we should just marry each other.

21. I'm going to shower. Pfft, I don't get an invite?

22. I'm no longer a human being. I identify as a chicken nugget.

23. What's your favorite thing about me? Probably your smile. Seriously? Okay, fine, I love how you can kill a man in only two seconds.

24. My microwave is smarter than you.

25. Aside from cooking, what basic life skills do I not have? Oh, *name* . . . I’m not sure we have time for that.

26. Alright, guys, this doesn't have to be a big deal. Whoever ate my muffin, come forward and all will be forgiven. *nobody does* Smart. You knew I would never forgive you.

27. They’re tiny mints that live in a plastic prison. . . . I said let’s talk TACTICS.

28. I think your cat wants to kill me.

29. I can't believe we're finally here, I never thought we'd make it. Oh, for fuck's sake, my driving isn't that bad.

30. You don't need to kill off any more brain cells.

31. On a scale from 'Damnnnn, Daniel' to 'Fre sha voc ado', how are you feeling? It's between, 'It's an avocado, thanks!' and 'how did you defeat Captain America?', but as a solid answer I would say, 'I don't need no degree to be a clothing hanger'. How about you? Probably 'road work ahead'.

32. My number one rule is ignoring everything you said.

33. Why do you guys hate each other? We do not! It's just . . . if you offered me 500 dollars to stab him, I wouldn't hesitate. I'd do it for 5 bucks.

34. Shut up, your IQ's probably lower than a fly's.

35. Water can solve many problems. Want to lose weight? Drink water. Clear skin? Drink water. Get rid of someone you hate? Drown them. *name*, no!

36. Sorry, the wind must've blown away all my fucks.

37. When life gives you lemons, you— Squeeze them into your enemy's eyes as you watch them suffer in agony, while you squeeze more lemons so they can't see. *name*, no!

38. I wouldn't call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.

39. I accidentally ate *name*'s muffin . . . how much time left do you think I get to live? Ten. Ten what? Nine . . .

40. You're going to burn in a very special level in hell—a level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.

41. Don't break someone's heart, they only have one. Yeah, break their bones. They have 206 of those.

42. I'm listening to you, I'm just not paying attention.

43. You fell and hit your head. Do you remember anything? Uh . . . only the ambulance ride to the hospital. That wasn't an ambulance . . . But I hear a siren? Oh, that was *name*. He was screaming all the time. I was worried!

44. Oh, but sweetheart, you already look like a fool.

45. Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, are you awake yet? Fuck off. That sounds like a yes to me.

46. Since my dog likes you, then I guess I like you too.

47. Alright, *name*, what does a yellow light mean? Slow down. No, it means ‘speed up, red is coming’.

48. Why did you two stop? Keep flirting.

49. You’re useless. Not totally. I can be used as a bad example.

50. I'm sorry, did you just order fifty pieces of McNuggets for here, for all yourself?

(I don’t own any of these. Credit to their respective creators. I simply made a list.)