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yuri-is-online · 10 months

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Without Saying (Floyd and Ruggie x Yuu)

"Oh can I help you? You seem to be lost." You attempt to cheerfully ask the vaguely familiar looking person in front of you. As if he is deliberately trying to rub salt in your wounds, Crowley ignored your request to leave campus for NRC parents day and is instead making you and Grim run errands. The person in front of you, blissfully ignorant to your inner turmoil perks up at your attention.

"Forgive me for asking, but are you the magicless prefect?" You and Grim exchange a confused glance. "You've got to be right?" They're practically glowing with how happy they are to see you. " Oh I'm sorry, I've just heard so much about you!" Wait, what?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, feral ariel (Floyd) vs light angst again (Ruggie). If you liked this please check out the previous parts on my masterlist.

Floyd

Under normal circumstances, a quiet Floyd was a suspicious Floyd but today- well today it was just odd. He doesn't look bored per se, just idle standing next to a very tall woman with similarly colored hair who is slowly, carefully, with extreme focus examining every inch of what you think is a novelty piggy bank shaped like the school's wishing well.

"Are you done yet Mamma?" Floyd sounds like he is being careful not to yawn.

"Hush now Floydie," she doesn't even blink, that's how tight her focus is, "Mamma is concentrating." Mrs. Leech's lips are tightly pursed while Floyd mutters something about going to get some candy and slinks off while you question if getting involved in this conversation is part of your job description or even smart. Unfortunately for you by the time you look back up from your clipboard Mrs. Leech has moved directly in front of your face in complete silence. "Human-" you go to scream but she silences you with a look you can't tell is from magic or practice raising the twins "Human can you help me with something?" She doesn't even wait for you to agree before holding up the piggy bank. "What exactly is the purpose of this object?"

"That?" You are surprised your voice doesn't give out entirely as she vigorously nods. "The piggy bank?"

"I see, I see." She nods sagely, immediately whipping around to where she evidently thought her son still was, shrugging undeterred as she decides to simply yell. "FLOYD! IT'S CALLED A PIGGY BANK."

"That's nice Mamma." Calls Floyd, oddly coming off as polite and rational from somewhere deep within the Mystery Shop. " But like what does it do?"

"EXCELLENT QUESTION! Say human what does it do?" You are deeply tempted to say that this woman cannot be serious but you don't really want to find out. You draw yourself up to your full height and nod.

"You put coins in it." Mrs. Leech blinks, a bit taken aback.

"Wait really?" Bravely, with a reasonable fear of being bitten, you reach over and gently lift up the top of the wishing well to show her the coin slot.

"I'm pretty sure this one plays a song when you put a coin in too." You explain.

"But it's so tiny?" She marvels, repeatedly opening and shutting the top of the bank. "How're you supposed to keep your money safe if it's so fragile? But then again I do keep most of mine with my husband..."

"Uhm it's supposed to be a fun gift for little kids." It occurs to you that she might find that offensive since it did look like she was buying it for herself. "To teach them about saving money, at least where I'm from anyway."

"Oh how cute. That settles it, I am definitely getting this." As if sensing that it is check out time Floyd shuffles over and immediately perks up.

"Little Shrimpy! Were you the one helping my mom?" He seems really happy, causing you to breathe a light sigh of relief. Mrs. Leech looks confused, zeroing in on you with the same concentration from earlier.

"Yeah. Trying to anyway." You nervously say; Mrs. Leech's attention turns to her son.

"Aww, how cute. You fishin' for a favor shrimpy?" Normally you would play along with his teasing, but your eyes dart awkwardly to Mrs. Leech whose attention is back on you, then the piggy bank, then you then her son, then you agai-

"Not really, I'm just trying to do my job." You awkwardly laugh and Floyd pouts.

"Spring or Summer?" Mrs. Leech asks cheerfully. To your surprise she has somehow managed to snatch up a second piggy bank within the .2 seconds since you took her attention off her.

"I'm sorry?"

"Oh just wondering that's all." She has a very serene smile on her face. Almost too serene. Like you just somehow signed away your soul because you didn't read some fine print. "I'm more partial to Spring myself." You try to look to Floyd for some context but for some reason, he's refusing to make eye contact. Weird.

Ruggie

"Thank you dear." The elderly beastwoman breathes a sigh of relief as you help her settle onto a bench next to the Coliseum. "Goodness, Ruggie warned me this place was big but I didn't realize just how serious he was." You nod, unscrewing the cap on one of the water bottles you brought with you for the old lady. She takes it thankfully and you breathe a gentle sigh of relief, not that Granny Bucchi had been anything more than a bit winded when you found her, but it was still worrying to see an old woman bent over like that. "I really should have just waited for him."

"Didn't he promise to meet you at the mirror chamber?" You ask, trying not to sound too judgmental. You find it hard to believe someone who spoke as fondly of his grandmother at Ruggie wouldn't want to escort her around, Granny Bucchi looks at you sheepishly sort of confirming that.

"He doesn't actually know that I'm here just yet, I wanted to surprise him." She tries to pass you back the water back but you shake your head. The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the sort you only ever get while relaxing with a cup of tea, or in this case a nice old lady who is genuinely enjoying the campus scenery. It's so nice Grim curls himself up into your lap for a little nap. Granny Bucchi scratches just the right place behind his ears to convince the "not a cat" to let out a very cat like purr.

"Did you send him a message to let him know your here?" You whisper, trying not to wake your baby. "If not I can send him one." She lets out a small laugh, similar in sound to her grandson's but still very much her somehow.

"Oh I am sure he'd be half way here already if he knew I had you to myself. Who knows what sort of ideas I could be putting in that head of yours." She winks and takes out her phone, squinting at the keys trying to piece together a message. "You should still send him one though, you'll probably be faster than me."

"Do you mind if I take a picture?" You ask sheepishly. "You know so Ruggie knows you're ok." Lies you just want a picture of you with Granny Bucchi. Sure, to Twisted Wonderland she is just some lady, but she is easily celebrity tier to you with how much glowing praise Ruggie heaps on her.

"Oh please do!" To your surprise she seems genuinely excited and strikes a little pose. What a natural, Vil has nothing on this woman. Not that you are going to say that out loud because you don't have a death wish. You happily text Ruggie as Granny Bucchi looks on fondly. "Do you like taking pictures?" Her voice is much softer than it has been in the admittedly little conversation you have had. "Ruggie sends me a lot of the ones you've given him from your ghost camera, I keep trying to ask him if you're planning on being a photographer in the future but he always dodges the question." She's clearly curious and you can't blame her, you just aren't sure how to answer.

"The future is a bit complicated for me." Is what you settle on, really hoping it doesn't loose you points.

"Oh you don't need to feel bad about that." Her eyes are filled with warmth and affection that you haven't felt in a long time, it's enough to make you want to cry. "Technically the future is complicated for everyone, some of us just muscle through it better than others. Case in point." Granny hauls her self up and nudges you to turn around. Ruggie is staring at both of you with a strange look in his eyes, but when he makes eye contact with you he shakes himself out of whatever mood that was and jogs up to meet you both.

It would be nice, you think, if you could do this again.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #floyd leech x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #first piggy banks are a big deal in my family #like everyone pitches in some loose change for a new baby and puts it in a baby bottle or something idk i think it is kinda cute #sorry for only doing 2 guys i ran out of ideas

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goatcheesecak3 · 6 months

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Could you possibly write something small about a beach date with Rodrick 😍

Rodrick x reader

Sorry this took so long! Me mam tried to sell me to one direction so I was slightly preoccupied 🙄

Anyways enough jibber jabber, here's a lil fluff about a beach date with Rodrick :^)

The heffleys had invited you on a trip to the beach, since you and Rodrick had been together for some time now, it was pretty much routine for you to come along to family events at this point.

You and Rodrick drove in his van separately from everyone else, truth be told, you were relieved. You loved the heffleys but you weren't so keen on the music they played in the car.

"You excited babe?" Rodrick turned to look at you

"Can't wait! I was looking up the beach on Google, there's quite a few rock pools so we might see some cool sealife!"

Rodrick's face lit up at this

"Like a crab?!" He asked

"Yes honey, like a crab" you smiled at your easily amused boyfriend.

"Awesome. I fucking love crabs" he said.

Upon arrival Susan and Frank were happy to see the pair of you, they both approached to greet you, when seemingly out of nowhere Greg appeared, flinging his arms around you.

"Hey lil dude! Nice to see you" You beamed down at him

"Great to see you too! I've got all the stuff set up!" He replied excitedly

You were confused for a second, before looking just past him and seeing an abundance of different sized buckets and spades. You finally remembered, last time you'd seen the Heffleys you'd promised Greg you'd be on his team against Rodrick for a sandcastle building competition.

"Rodrick I love you, but you are so going down" you said, playfully poking him in the ribs before running off to the equipment with Greg.

"Hey no fair! You guys don't get a head start!" He called after the two of you.

The sandcastle competition was definitely pretty tense, you and Greg had opted for a "bigger = better" strategy, and had come up with a 3 storey castle.

Rodrick's, while much smaller, was more detail oriented. He'd decorated it with little stones, and even carved out little battlements.

When the time was up, the three of you went to get Susan and Frank to judge, but when you'd returned only one castle was left. It would appear that Manny had decided that Rodrick's Castle was the perfect race course for one of his toy trucks, and in the few seconds you were all gone, he'd reduced it to rubble.

"Ha! We won!" Greg jeered.

You looked at Rodrick, who seemed genuinely disappointed.

"Aw baby," you stroked his arm, "I think your castle was Manny's favourite at least"

He smiled slightly at this, but still seemed slightly miffed that all his hard work was ruined.

Never mind, you knew exactly how to cheer him up

"How about we go check out those rock pools?" You asked.

Rodrick grinned excitedly, immediately forgetting about the sand castle, "oh yeah! I hope we see something cool!" He beamed, grabbing your hand and eagerly pulling you in the direction of the rocks.

You carefully climbed onto the glistening wet rocks, made just that bit more treacherous by the odd bit of seaweed and sharp barnacles. You held onto Rodrick tightly, fearing that his clumsy self would slip and accidentally keelhaul himself.

(A/n if you don't know what keelhaulling is, look it up at your own risk. It's pretty gnarly).

"What are those things?" Rodrick asked curiously, pointing towards tufts of purple sticking out from the sides of the rock pools.

"Sea anemones! Be really gentle and touch them, see what happens" you encouraged him.

Rodrick looked slightly nervous, but he trusted you. He dipped his finger into the shallow water and felt the tiny tentacles grip his finger. He giggled high pitch and very amused, before pulling his hand away and shaking it dry.

"It was like, sticky?" He said

You laughed at his reaction, he was adorable when he was confused.

"That was it trying to eat you! It thought your finger was a little fish!"

"Really?!"

"Mhm"

"That's so funny," he bent down to look at the anemone, "you're no match for me little bro" he said cockily.

You were unsure as to whether he was joking, or if he was genuinely proud of not being eaten by a gelatinous blob the size of a penny. Probably the latter, knowing Rodrick, but either way you find it endearing.

You spent quite a while trapesing around the rock pools, Rodrick seemingly fascinated by everything- particularly the little clusters of sea snails. He likened their pointy shells to his studded bracelet, affectionately giving them the title of "most metal animal he'd seen all day". His day was made, however, when you called him over to a tiny pool right at the edge of the rocks.

"Baby, come quick!"

He rushed over, abandoning the clump of seaweed he'd been popping like bubblewrap, and turned his attention towards what you'd been pointing at.

There, nestled inbetween a few tufts of seaweed, sat the tiniest little crab, it's body not much bigger than the tip of a pinky finger. As Rodrick kneeled down to get a closer look, his face was graced with a wide, goofy smile. He looked between you and the crab for a few seconds, before blurting out "it's a little baby!", his voice high and girlish.

You let out a chuckle at this, watching your boyfriend's eyes grow in amazement and glee at the sight of such a small crab. His attention was fixed to it for as long as it sat there, until the crab must have decided that staring back at the squealing Rodrick had become tedious, and scuttled away under some pebbles.

Rodrick finally stood once again, and reached out to hold your hands.

"That was so cool," he said, his eyes twinkling and his smile somehow even more loveable than ever.

"You're so cute," you replied, unable to contain your adoration any longer. You placed your arms over his shoulders, while instinctively, Rodrick held your waist.

You leaned in and planted a delicate kiss on his lips. Sometimes it was hard to remember he was a hardcore punk guy with a big beat up van, and an affinity for moshing. At times like this, all you saw was an innocent, precious sweetheart. You just wanted to hold his face and pepper it with gentle kisses, while showering him with compliments like "my handsome boy," and "you're the cutest thing in the whole world". You probably would later, but not right now. He'd never live it down if his family saw him being such a big softie.

You allowed yourself to get lost in his big brown eyes for a moment longer, before you heard Frank calling the two of you to come and get some food.

I love you, you thought to yourself as Rodrick carefully guided you down the rocks. As if he could read your mind, he threw an arm round your shoulder and whispered in your ear

"I love you, y/n"

A/n requests are open! I write hcs and short fics for a couple characters, check my pinned post for details! :^)

(Pls request something I need ideas lol)

#rodrick #rodrick rules #rodrick heffley #doawk #diary of a wimpy kid #rodrick hefflei #rodrick headcanon #diary of a wimpy kid rodrick #rodrick x reader #devon bostick #fanfic #rodrick fanfiction #rodrick fluff #fluff #not my rodrick

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lorablackmane · 2 months

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It's time for ghosts y'all!! I wanted to make this post once I finished a chapter or 2 of my AU's fic, but I've talked about these lil fuckers so much w/ Teal in the past month I figured it might be best to make a post b4 that so ppl aren't confused in the future.

The premise of this AU is after the night after the King is defeated, everyone is celebrating! ...Until odd things start to appear in the House. A giant bloodsplatter in the Death Corridor and a trail of blood leading from it to the King's room. A shattered shelf and knocked over pot missing it's contents in the kitchen. A frozen body near the storage room.

One by one, ghosts created from the breaking points of Siffrin's wish start to appear, and they're here to stay! For better... or for worse.

Below is how each ghost was made, their wishcraft's scent (I put too much thought into this info so I'm adding it), and a bit about them!

(Cw for the ghost's stories below: death, suicide, allergy attack)

The Stoned - Created in Act 1 - Smells like Copper and Sugar

(This one will get a proper ref later bc this doesn't fully capture him)

Despite their looks, The Stoned is the calmest out of all of them, even though their death was one of the most painful. It happened so quickly and also messed up enough that the Wishcraft couldn't fix most of their body after the boulder disappears... so he can't feel pain anymore. He can't really feel much honestly there's... there isn't many nerves to feel with anymore. The additional lack of bones is a detriment to their ability to move, making them have to crawl around and continuously shift so they won't lose their balance until they get items like crutches and a wheelchair to help.

The Stoned doesn't know the horrors of the House and so are innocent in a way even Bonnie isn't. They never even it made it to the second half of the first floor! So a lot of the things the others talk about fly over their head. The others don't leave them out of talks about the House though! ...Not that the Stoned... really speaks - but it's the thought that counts!! They have their buddy to speak for them, anyway.

Just like how Loop's Wishcraft made their body unique, each ghost has their own lil quirk due to the Wishcraft that powers their bodies. The Stoned has the oddest one: due to their lack of most their bones their body is almost completely powered by Wishcraft that is activated by the air he breathes in. Because of this, he can actually almost flatten himself by releasing all the air inside themself, and will stay that way until he breathes back in. He can't move like that, but it does sometimes come in handy - by releasing some instead of all the air they can make themself slightly more compact to get into tight places!

The Silent - Created in Act 2 - Smells like Saltwater Taffy

The Silent is a fearful one, they remember the pain the House offers but cannot feel it. They only truly remember up to Bonnie accidentally pushing them, however they know so much more. Each time Siffrin touched a tear he gave them the memories of that run, but to the Silent it was less like a memory and more like watching a play. Detached from themself... yet the fear is there. They aren't like Stone who only remembers his death, they know the blessing was a curse wrapped in a pretty bow and the thought that what they see is only a fragment of the loops Siffrin went through... it makes them retreat into themself, especially bc they see their existence as unneeded bc well... Siffrin already exists. They don't need another to bother them.

It's much easier to stay put, to let them become one with the House as the tears intended. They don't need to breathe, to eat, or anything really so it's quite easy for them to do so! For them to just... exist. Hiding in plain sight, like the books hidden on shelves of the House written in their mother tongue. So this is where they stay, until one day maybe people can hear them speak once more. They do occasionally move, mostly when they hear that the Housemaiden's need the area they're in, but only when they're certain no one is looking.

When it comes to fight, flight, or freeze they choose freeze every time... which isn't helped by the quirk of their body's Wishcraft. The Silent can freeze anything up to the size of a medium bowl if they hold it for long enough. The Unseen will sometimes use this to pull pranks on people who upset them, stealing their umbrellas and placing them in The Silent's hold. They find this very petty... but they don't like moving bc a Housemaiden might see them and it is funny so they don't stop the two from doing so.

The Unseen(Left) - Created in Act 3 - Smells like Candied Pineapples

The left one is similar in personality to the Stoned as when they were created Siffrin knews that something was wrong, but still had hope that things were okay. They are an odd one: they see their accidental death as nothing in the grand scheme of things considering how many deaths already happened before them. If anything, he sees his death as a vital piece of showing their love to their family oddly enough! His memory is spotty, but the answer to Bonnie's question is forever engraved upon their skin so none of them will ever forget (even if most cannot see them anymore except outta the corner of their eye). There is a great sorrow in them though, after meeting their counterpart and discovering that there was so much pain afterwards - that like them this fact is engraved into their counterpart... but they'll stay with them, and maybe... they can bring some joy back to the right.

They help keep their counterpart's pranks in check, as unlike the right left remembers how fragile people are and doesn't see them as actors or dolls. Most of the pranks they plan are leaving lil letters with terrible puns around the House. Like you go into the bathroom, there's a letter tied to the handle of the sink. You open it and it says something like, "water you doin, handsome?" Stupid stuff like that, that makes them feel like the funnyjokespunperson they were before everything. A way to reclaim what the loops took from them both.

The Lonely - Created in Act 3 - Smells of Sugar and Moldy Cloth

This ghost is the culmination of so, so many fragments Siffrin left in between those walls. For a long time they did not remember anything besides the motions to get to the King, yet they could never defeat him. They couldn't survive his major attack, no matter what they did. It feels like at one point he could though... wasn't there a way? It isn't until the ghost event that they remember what they lost and while it felt absolute euphoria in that moment, after that the loneliness became soul crushing. The hunger for someone, anyone to be with them hurt so much! ...It made them remember why they forgot their family the first time.

The Lonely's quirk unlike most of the others isn't seared on their skin. No, the Lonely's ability is actually only really useful for dealing with The Unseen - anytime one of the others is in danger or about to do something dangerous they sense it. The Vengeful is constantly ringing this mental alarm, but it can't do anything to help due to it constantly moving so they don't even try with them. The Unseen though, it is often seen dragging them by the ears before they do something like unleash a barrel full of marbles in a hallway.

The Vengeful - Created in Act 4 - Smells of Steel, Salt, and Sugar

It is the culmination of the King's cruelty and Siffrin's agony, a beast made of anger, pain, and sorrow in equal measures. It hates the King both bc Siffrin did and bc it sees him at fault for it's creation as it doesn't know of Wishcraft as it was created right on the line between 3 and 4. That is why it tore his right hand off and stole the gauntlet upon it - a punishment for the action that created it and a trophy for it to wear as proof that, even after such a horrid deed, he didn't win. It runs away from the House and it's former family because of this memory - it cannot confront the people it feels it failed even with the knowledge they survived, that it's sin wasn't permanent. In it's eyes it will always exist. It's eye will sometimes gleam with the same shade as the one that appeared when the world was breaking!

The Vengeful is the only ghost no one is completely sure the location of due to it throwing itself out of the first available window after completing it's mission. It mostly stays in forests or caverns where it can easily hide, only going near towns if someone reminds it of the King. Once it has dealt with said person however it views it needs to, mostly by scaring them, it returns to it's current hiding spot. The Vengeful is a lonely one, but it's not ready to be near people for long periods of time. It's afraid that due to how it was created it'll bring bad luck to those it spends too much time with - how couldn't it? It was created from a person trapped in the middle of an hourglass until they drowned in the golden sands and by a man who saw his will as absolute, who caused so much agony. One day, though, it'll realize that isn't true... but it'll be quite a while.

The Unseen(Right) - Created in Act 4 - Smells like Steel and Sugar

This one is the closest in personality to Loop. It mocks even though it has no voice, they play with the people around it to remind themself they're real. Without the left the right Unseen would be much more dangerous as it is so desensitized to death they have forgotten what is actually dangerous and so some of their mischief has to be tempered by the left one to avoid killing those around them. For a very long time they view others, besides left, as merely actors in a similar vein as Loop, only referring to others via titles if it needs to interact with anyone and left doesn't control the writing pen. As time passes this trait slowly disappears, as the days show more changes like rain upon the rooftops or snow in the gardens, things it long forgot.

Together with their counterpart The Unseen are the ones who were left behind through actions seen as small, but were greater than thought. The ones who cannot be seen without drastically changing the views of ones most loved by the person they once were. And so they stay hidden from sight by their own Wishcraft... but that is a lonely way to live they discovered. The two of them alone cannot satiate their need 4 company. And so they do little things that are easily noticed so they can be seen without breaking their rule: walking around with open, stolen umbrellas or pulling little pranks.

Most Housemaiden's don't talk to them, because they never get an answer they assume they don't like talking. This isn't the case though they cannot tell them that... neither can speak. The left's throat is closed up and the right's is... well u can probably guess why theirs wouldn't work even if they had a mouth to speak with. The Lonely though does speak to them often - it has a chalkboard in the room it lives in inside the House for them to write lil questions or answers on.

#lbwriting #isat #in stars and time #isat spoilers #isat au #Echoes of Loops AU #love these critters so much #they cause so many issues u have no idea #A lot of philosophy scholars will b having a field day exploring the questions these ghosts bring to Vaugarde #Bc that ghost might b committing blasphemy but does it count if they're not in ur religion? Can ghosts even commit blasphemy?#feel free to ask about them btw! I love talking about them if this very long post wasn't any indication

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bomberqueen17 · 4 months

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where tf did i leave off

girl (nonspecific, just used here as an interjection, i know there are several of you reading this) i know it's been a lot and like shit got so hectic i updated that i had a backsplash and then nothing but listen i've been unpacking stuff into my

NEW KITCHEN

which is fully operational and move-in ready it's just missing the door to one cabinet and a bunch of little pieces of trim and whatnot but

FEAR NOT

i will give you the scoop once i can figure out where i left off in the updates.

Image description: Picking up where we left off, here's the north wall looking east from the kitchen door, this time with the spacers removed from between the white tiles. The countertop is still covered with cardboard. You can see the underside of the cabinets a bit. The outlet has no faceplate on it.

Max mixed up a batch of grout and set to grouting the tiles, now that the adhesive or mortar or whatever had cured overnight. Jim, meanwhile, installed the dishwasher to be ready for the plumber, and installed the vent hood.

[image description: Two men are facing away from the camera, lifting a stainless steel vent hood up to hook it onto the screws it mounts to in a tiled wall.]

He also used a sheet of paper to cut out a template so he could cut the odd-sized piece of trim wood to cover the bay windowsill. "I got a whole roll of paper," he said, "but I only got one piece of wood." "Measure once, cut three times," Max interjected.

[Image description: Two men in a kitchen. The one on the left is standing on a stepstool to smear gray grout over the white tiled wall. On the right, the other man is bent over the countertop, with the offcuts of brown kraft paper curling away as he trims it with a utility knife.]

Finally the plumber rolled in-- Kyle, who'd been here before. He'd said he'd come Monday, but on Thursday when Jim called to confirm, he said he could push it up and come Friday instead. Which was huge, because it meant a working stove and working sink and working dishwasher and really, working kitchen, really really.

Jim bartered for a part from him, to hook the stove up-- he had one of Kyle's tools, left behind on an earlier job. Kyle was like ha I don't actually need it back I bought a replacement BUT i will give you the nipple you need anyway. (Yes! It was a nipple. That's a pipe fitting thing and I get a gold star for not giggling.)

So while Kyle was in the basement, hooking up my dryer and repairing my laundry sink (I had arranged to pay him separately for that, as neither thing were part of the kitchen job, and he figured he'd do those first so his boss would have a chance to send an invoice so I could pay him before he left, much easier all around), Jim and Max installed the stove and got it painstakingly leveled.

[Image description: a stove is pulled out somewhat from the surrounding counter. To the left a man is kneeling next to it; the other man stands to the right, leaning over to peer at a bubble level.]

They did a really thorough job on this, which involved pulling out that lower drawer so Jim could reach under to the rear adjustable feet with a wrench to fine-tune the position once the stove was shoved into place.

"Aw," I said, "now I gotta find the owner's manual to find out how to set the clock on this stove again," and Max wordlessly tilted his head, looked at the control panel, unerringly punched the button with a picture of a clock on it, and said "what time is it?" so I told him, he punched it in. "Kids," Jim laughed, and I said "so good with technology." Finished, Max hit the clock button again, and erased his work. "Oops," he said, repeated the process, and this time hit the "Start/OK" button at the end, which worked and actually entered the time.

Then the real excitement began, because Kyle finished mucking around in the basement and came up and put together the sink. Max, having now attached all of my cabinet door and drawer handles, had now mostly run out of work to do by then so he leaned on things and watched kyle work, which was also what I was doing, LOL.

But the moment of excitement came very soon.

[image description: two men standing by a kitchen counter. On the left, Kyle the plumber is staring down into the sink as the water runs. On the right, Max is leaning on the counter next to the stove, watching.]

No leaks! Hooked up! So exciting. He then ran a quick cycle on the dishwasher to make sure it didn't leak either, and lo and behold it did not.

Meanwhile Max lit the stove and ran it until the air was out of the line.

Literally, now we're cooking with gas.

So, everyone was done and wrapped up before 3pm on Friday afternoon, and they all left in high spirits. Jim will be back to put on the final cabinet door (they made it wrong! the custom cabinet people fucked up my door! I never knew because Jim had already sent it back) and all the crown molding, and a couple of other little details. He might come Monday but if the pieces aren't ready for him then he won't come until they are. In the meantime, I can use the kitchen to my heart's desire.

He gave me back my house key, since we were moving back into the house over the weekend, so I'd be present.

[image description: a kitchen! an actual kitchen, with grayish-blue cabinets, a white tiled wall, a dishwasher and a stove, a vent hood over the stove, and a hideous yellow flowered folding stool pulled up to the counter to be a makeshift chair. The knife block is on the counter, and the Instant Pot is sitting by the sink, and various other items are strewn around the counters. The floor is mottled gray and has a geometric blue and white mat in front of the sink.]

The first thing I did was put all my grungy old unwashable dishwares into the dishwasher to see if it melted them, hence my post on this topic. (Update: Nothing so far has actually gotten ruined! Amazing.)

But the second thing was that we went back over to dude's mom's to retrieve our cat. <3 <3 <3 and then i got to sleep in my own bed with my beloved cat.

#about the author #kitchen remodel

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cebwrites · 11 months

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Hi, I really liked the Sanji x reader headcanon you wrote where he had to unpack his internalized homophobia about another guy being into him. I was wondering if you would be willing to do something similar for Sanji being in a relationship with someone, and then his partner comes out to him as transmasc? I could see a lot of ways angst could go with that one, like maybe Sanji realizes he's been hurting him unintentionally bc of how he acts w/ guys? If you don't want to though I understand! o/

a/n: hiiii sorry for taking so long on this but i absolutely wanted to the moment i saw it!! i've just been fielding a bit (a lot) of writer's block lately ;w;

reacting to his partner coming out as transmasc (Sanji)

transmasc reader, nonbinary Sanji at the end cw: transphobia, Sanji's internalized homophobia word count: 1.3k

Just a budding pirate at nineteen and horrendously closeted, he doesn't quite realize how his overt repulsion towards men has negatively affected you - he certainly doesn't want to think about it as those thoughts bubble to the surface when you finally sit Sanji down and set the record straight

How you've been learning more about yourself over the course of living with and leaning on your new nakama, seeing different kinds of people and feeling bits of your true self echo and reflect back at you through them, how you feel like even though it's scary, you know this is the best course of action for yourself from here on out

You wanted him to be the first to know, hoping that despite everything maybe he'd be able to put his hang-ups aside to focus on moving forward with you as a couple, addressing those underlying problems later on but together

Sanji doesn't

He's quiet as you explain everything, excitement clear but there is a wariness in your eyes he doesn't miss, he can feel the slight shake in your hands as you hold his

At the end of it, he gives you a pat on the shoulder and a stilted smile, lights another cigarette as he stands to leave with a mention that he needs some space to think for a while - then he's gone

Sanji feels like his world is crumbling, everything he did to be as "straight" as possible dissolving before his eyes, he doesn't notice how much he hurt you in his ignorance or maybe he knows but doesn't want to address it right now

It definitely creates a wedge between the both of you and you agree to separate for the moment, it also puts him at odds with other members of the crew - the awkwardness in the air that crewmates falling out would create in the first place aside

Zoro who never hid himself from day one doesn't pick on Sanji for fun anymore or answer his playful jests, when they spar it sometimes feels like Zoro actually wants to cut him down - he's never been one for being super open anyway but now Zoro doesn't even tolerate casual conversation with him

Robin still smiles at Sanji, she's still relatively the same around him, still thanks him when he flamboyantly swings around to serve delicately handmade afternoon snacks while confessing his undying love to her and Nami both; but something about her feels a hell of a lot colder than before - she's polite but cordial, she doesn't make little comments about his food like before and it's almost like she avoids his presence alone she can help it

Alone, however, after all the other Strawhats have gone to bed and it's just Sanji cleaning up the kitchen and her on night watch, is how she confronts him about all of this

Robin who's been stealth for as long as she can remember, asks Sanji if he'd stop fawning over her if he found out "the truth", she tells him that surely he's noticed her shift in attitude, how Zoro refuses to look at him in the eye let alone talk to him one on one, how it almost seems like she doesn't quite feel safe around him anymore

It's in that moment that Sanji realizes the weight of what he's done and just-- shatters; all his fears, his shame, the ugly internalized feelings he picked up in the process of learning to be a person, his anguish at all the hurt he caused you - Sanji had always loathed the kind of man who would cause his partner harm (and in his head that partner would always be a woman) just like how his father made Sora's life miserable, and now he'd become such a detestable thing, they all spill out onto the kitchen floor along his tears and the undercurrent of regret that flows with it

Robin tells him that she doesn't have to do this, that he's entitled to no one's time given the way he's acted, but a part of her still cares for him because she sees him struggling, hard enough to hurt someone close to him, that if he doesn't address this now he's only going to continue doing that - Sanji's eternally grateful for her patience and grace

He tells her over a cigarette for what it's worth (and he's aware it isn't much) he doesn't think of her any differently, she's just as much a woman now as she was all the days before but Robin doesn't need his approval for that, Sanji then hesitantly goes into the pained relationship he's had with masculinity, his biological father, Zeff, and how that all probably - no, definitely - fed into his sordid reaction, even though there's nothing that can excuse it

Robin is understanding from a small distance as he explains, at one point a hand manifests to soothe Sanji's back when he's in the throes of it, and later on she shifts closer to put her actual hand on his shoulder once his sobs even out

The smoke stings his eyes already raw from tears when Sanji lights another, expressing that even with how he's incredibly in Robin's debt for listening to him in such a low moment, that he regrets not being able to have this conversation with you instead, not that any of this could justify the awful ways he treat you, that he owed an apology to Zoro too, and the rest of the crew for acting this way

So that's exactly what Sanji does, he apologizes by way of his cooking - the next evening he makes everyone's favorites, having to skimp a little on breakfast for emotional reasons, but for dinner he goes all out, a silent apology for causing all this tension in the first place

A few nights later, he comes to you with a tray of your favorite treats, Sanji makes a mental note to thank Usopp and Brook for keeping the boys' quarters empty enough for this to happen, then mentally prepares himself to undergo that emotional turmoil one more time for him to be honest with you provided you even want to let him in; if you don't want to hear it he's more than understanding

But if you do, he explains it all over again, how this was never your fault and only had to do with his aversion to masculinity because of the male figures in his life, how Judge and his older brothers made him feel lower than dirt itself for even expressing positive emotion to the same gender, how even though Zeff raised him with the best intentions, his 'no talk/tough love' policy only served to make Sanji repress himself even more

He's once again a mess by the end of it but he's ready for the emotional outpouring and he's able to stiffen his lip enough to make it through to the end without pausing to just sob for a minute, literally on his knees with the sincerest (if not a tad dramatic) heartfelt apologies to give him another chance

You feel for him, you really do - like Robin, you see someone who's in a lot of pain and at odds with his own identity lashing out at the people around him, people whom he loves and reviles the idea of putting in harm's way

And that's precisely why even though you accept his apology, you tell Sanji you can't be with him the way he is right now, holding his callous hand with a pained, rueful smile of your own

Post time-skip Sanji is a lot more assured in themself, he's addressed all his hang-ups and sorted through their trauma and comes out a lot better for it, when you look at Sanji now you see a person with a solid grasp on themself, someone you're enthusiastic about rebuilding a friendship with now that you're both living as you are

And if it turns into something more, old sparks from both your ends get reignited, stifled loves finally allowed to bloom, you aren't bothered by the thought of that at all

#cebwrites #one piece #one piece x reader #kuroashi no sanji #one piece sanji #sanji #blackleg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #sanji x male reader #sanji x reader #sanji x you #transmasc reader #cw homophobia #cw transphobia

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delicrieux · 1 year

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Hello, how are you? I hope you are doing well! I've had this idea in my mind for a while: could you please write a Harry Potter imagine where Draco asks Professor Lupin's daugther on a date to Hogsmeade? She's in Gryffindor. Thank you!

NIGHT, THE LIGHT | endless drabble series (winter edition)

summary: differences can actually be appealing pairing: draco malfoy x f!lupin!reader a/n: used 24. countless candles from this list <3

masterlist. ☕. reqs are open for the winter prompts list 1 & 2 !

Hogwarts drowns in candle light. White wax drips onto the walls and the floors and melts in puddles, leaving an earthy, herbal scent in its wake. They appear when the days start growing shorter and nights longer, and disappear when spring eventually comes. During December, it’s all a warm, cosy glow. You’ve never felt more at home here than during winter.

The curfew is upon you, and if a wandering professor should catch you sneaking back to the Gryffindor common room, you’d eagerly inform them that you had spent your hours studying, terribly afraid to disappoint your father. And if your father still worked here and caught you, you would tell him the truth: I was trying to hex the brooms so Filtch’d have something to do in the morning.

Well, a part of the truth, for you think that as kind as your father is, he would not take kindly to the news. You’d rather he not know at all, not now, lest he convinces you to change your mind via a strongly worded letter.

You had been thinking of ways to ruin Filtch’s morning for a while now - you could not, in good conciseness, leave that burden for the Weasley twins to carry. Plan made and swiftly executed, you had been on the prowl for more shenanigans to cause. Surely inspiration would strike when the moon’s out, it always does.

In the candle-lit corridors you had ran into Draco, seeming a bit pale in the blousy light. Neither friend nor foe, he stuck to tormenting your friends on odd occasion when he became bored. Those jabs and jeers had died down drastically as the years went by. During year six, he preferred to ignore the lot of you, thoughtful about his musings as he was.

He had grown pretty, and somewhat secluded, and sometimes he was even tolerable, perhaps even more than that. So you met in the dark next to the sleeping portraits, and your heart had skipped a beat which you reasoned could only be from fright.

He gave you a once-over, and his expression revealed nothing, “Quite late.”

“Haven’t noticed.” You said.

“Then you’re blind as a bat.”

“Charmed, truly,” You muttered, “where were you, anyway?”

“What do you care?” He quipped. You shrugged.

“That you’re right, I don’t. Will be on my way, now-”

And as you moved to pass him, he suddenly became alert, “Wait.”

By all means, you did not have to. But you did, and when you looked at him, he seemed torn and much older, no longer the petty boy Harry insist him on being.

“...Well?” You probed once the silence stretched.

“The trip to Hogsmeade is coming up.” He said it perfectly natural, even bored, “Would you like to go with me?”

You thought you misheard him. Brows drawn and eyes squinted, you inquired a simple, “What?”

“Are you deaf also?”

“Quite rude to insult me after just asking me out.” You bit back, “Why would I want to go with you, anyway?”

He shrugged, “It’s not a no.”

Your mind rushed a mile a minute, tripping over ideas and thoughts that were barely coherent: one was of you laughing and drinking butter beer in the damp and warm haven of the Three Broomsticks and the next was Harry lecturing you about unwanted company.

But you were always one for mischief, and the excitement in your chest was palpable enough for you to fear he’d hear the pulses of your heart, and so you bit down a smile and shrugged, “I’ll think about it. I guess.”

“Don’t think too long.”

“What? Am I on the clock? Will you ask someone else if I don’t give you an answer.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t sound very convincing.

“Fine. We’ll go. But if we’ll have to stop at Junko’s.”

“Fine.”

Silence, again.

“Well, goodnight, Draco.”

“See you in the morning.”

All the way to your common room you could only think one thing: what the bloody hell just happened?

hope you like it! xx

#draco malfoy #draco x reader #hp #Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #draco malfoy x reader #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader #reader insert #hogwarts #request #hp x reader #winter features

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aita-blorbos · 2 months

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WIBTA for killing all 7000 of my siblings?

I (350M) had what one might call an... unpleasant living situation for a couple hundred years, along with a few others (7000, all genders) who shared in the same circumstances. Because of the odd position we share, we've come to consider ourself siblings. It's rather tedious I fear, and I won't bore all you darling readers with the details, but our "guardian" was (and still is) a horrible person and made staying there a living hell of sorts-- one where he had complete control over all of us and we were essentially under his thumb.

Recently, I was able to escape this situation, and I've even managed to find myself in acceptable company. Things seemed to be going more or less swimmingly (except for an inconvenient disease my companions and I incidentally caught), until I caught wind of the fact that my previous "guardian" was planning to sacrifice all of his "wards" (myself included) in a grand ritual that would give him unlimited power and render him not only immortal, but practically untouchable as well.

Naturally, I get the brilliant idea to replace his role in the ritual so that *I* can become immortal and practically untouchable as well. And I definitely have the looks of an amoral overlord already, if I do say so myself.

My companions keep harping on me about it though, and saying it would be "unethical" and "cruel" and "just what he would do" (bullshit, by the way, I'm NOTHING like him), and that I probably shouldn't sacrifice all 7000 of my siblings for unlimited power and immortality. I don't really see their point, because it's not like the life my siblings have now is much of a life anyway, and if I were in their position (which I literally am) I'd prefer death to being under our "guardian"'s control ever again. Really, I'd be doing all of them a favor.

I have to admit their incessant rants are making me a bit hesitant, though. AITA for wanting to sacrifice thousands of my siblings' lives to ascend into a near god-like state of power and immortality?

#aita #am i the asshole #unreality

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xiaoscarasimp · 11 months

Text

Cat Boi 3 (Now with more cat boys

As you and Scaramouche sat down after dinner one day to watch your favorite anime, your phone starts buzzing. You look down at it and notice that it was your co-worker Zhongli calling, which is odd since he's never done this before.

"Hello?" You say hesitantly into the phone.

"Ah, yes, this is Zhongli speaking. Is y/n there?" The voice on the other end sounds very professional; he's always been the serious type.

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, good. I must respectfully ask a favor of you. You see, I am about to have my fiance move in with me, but I'm worried my cat boy will impede the movers. I was wondering if you could watch over him for about a month. Don't worry, you'll be compensated for food, medical, or anything else he might need."

"Z-Zhongli," you stammer. "Let me ask Scara first. I know I've mentioned getting him a friend, but I do feel like he should get some say in the matter." Scaramouche looks over at you with a puzzled look at the mention of his name.

"Excellent. I look forward to hearing a favorable response." Zhongli hangs up and you turn to Scaramouche, trying to figure out how to breach the subject.

Luckily for you, he could read the room when he wanted to. "So, what's this about a possible interruption?" He asks, ears flicking with displeasure.

"So, my co-worker Zhongli asked me to look after his cat for a bit. It won't be permanent just for about a month or so while his fiance moves in," you explain gently. Your anxiety and excitement were running high because you really wanted Scaramouche to have a friend while you were at work along with the fact you didn't want to let your co-worker down.

"Will it only be for a month?" He asks, ears flat against his head, tail wrapped around your wrist. His eyes showed uncertainty, fear and perhaps a little something else. "As long as he remembers that I am top cat and that you're mine and only mine then I guess its ok!" His mood suddenly changed from unsure to pompous in the blink of an eye, causing you to chuckle.

"Now remember Scara, you have to play nice and also don't get upset if you two dont like the same foods."

You sent Zhongli a text saying that you could watch over his cat boy for a bit and he replied back rather quickly with a smiley emoji. As you and Scaramouche were watching anime, his tail never left your wrist, anxious because it was one of the last nights you two would have alone together for a while.

In preparation for Zhongli's cat boy moving in, you decide to prepare Scaramouche's bed room to host two people. Needless to say, Scaramouche wasn't too happy about that. He threw an absolute fit about having to share a room, but you ended up pointing out that he barely slept in there anyways;he mostly slept with you in your bed and only his clothing was in there.

"If it makes you feel better, I can move some of your clothes into my room? I can also get a spare mattress for you as well." You offer.

His ears perk up. "Do what you want." He waved his hand like shooing off a fly, but his ears and tail betray his actual emotions yet again.

The move in day arrived quickly, and you heard the door bell ring, opening it to see Zhongli in a white shirt with a tie and some slacks and a cat boy hiding behind him, who was a little bit shorter than Scaramouche. He had black hair with green tips, sharp almond colored eyes, and red eyeliner, not unlike how your very own cat boy would do his. His ears flicked around nervously, you noticed they had slightly greenish tips. This cat boy was dressed rather comfortably, wearing baggy black pants, a skin tight sleeveless white shirt that had the silhouette of clouds on it and black slip on shoes.

"Come in guys!" You smiled. "Hey, Scara! Come on down and meet the houseguests."

You barely hear Scaramouche come down stairs, but he let you know he was there with a loud "hmph" when he saw the other cat boy. 'Oh boy,' you thought. 'This better not get messy.' He sat down at the table, tapping his fingers, ignoring the two new people in the house.

"Thank you for accepting the favor y/n," Zhongli says. "Oh yes. Introductions are in order. This is Xiao. He's a bit shy, but shouldn't cause any problems." The cat boy was still hiding behind his master, ears and eyes alert, still scanning the area for potential threats. Xiao tried to give a polite smile, but faltered when he saw Scaramouche sitting at the table, tapping his finger while giving the guests a mean side eye.

"Hi, Xiao. I'm y/n and I hope we can all get along. That grumpy little thing over there is Scaramouche, or Scara for short," you introduce yourself formally. "Tell me, what would you like for dinner tonight? I can make just about anything. Scara prefers seafood, but if there's something you don't like let me know."

Scaramouche scowled at the fact you said Xiao can call him Scara for short; that was your name for him, and only you could use it. He really did have a mean possessive streak that you'd have to scold him about later.

"...I love almond tofu, however I've been curious about seafood, but Mr. Mor -I mean Zhongli despises seafood. I don't eat a lot of other meat, though." Xiao timidly says, still not making eye contact with you.

"Sure!" You beamed. "Any flavors you don't like? I have some yellow snapper in the fridge, and it won't be too fishy. I fileted them yesterday so they're fresh." Xiao nodded and you told Zhongli and Xiao to have a seat on the couch while you cook.

Scaramouche was still sitting at the table, a scowl on his face because it felt like the new cat boy and his master were taking all of your attention; it was going to be a long month. When you walked over to the kitchen, he ended up following you under the pretense of "helping" you and by helping, he means impeding your way by accidentally knocking things over with his tail or being extra affectionate by hugging you while you gather food and spices.

Starting to get a bit irritated, you turn around to Scaramouche and tell him to go sit on the couch or at the table at the very least. "Maybe you can get to know Xiao a little bit as well." He gave you one last hug and sat down at the table, grumbling the entire time.

You had found a blackened snapper recipe the day before and wanted to try it out. You coat the fish in the blackening seasoning, which to your delight smelled pretty spicy. Hopefully this won't be too much for the cat boys, but honestly, this is the only way you'll eat fish if it's drowned in spices. A thought crossed your mind: what if we tried this seasoning on chicken? Your mouth started salivating at the thought of blackened chicken.

Once you've seasoned the fish, you put it in the over for a little bit and you start making the side dishes. Rice was always a safe bet, but you needed a veggie to pair with it for a balanced meal. You remembered you had some edamame in the freezer. Scaramouche comes over and attempts to distract you by headbutting your shoulder, but you pay him no mind other than petting his head gently.

"Scara, dinner will be ready in five minutes. Have you talked to Xiao or Zhongli at all yet?" You ask, keeping an eye on the food timers.

"Pffft, no. Why would I want to talk to people intruding *my* space? That Xiao fucker doesn't seem like he's all that and Zhongli has tried to talk to me about tea." Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

"I thought you liked tea though?"

"Yeah, I do but that does not mean I want to chat at some random stranger about tea,” Scaramouche rolls his eyes.

"Either way, I'm gonna need you to behave. Can you help me set the table really quick?" You ask as all the timers go off. Scaramouche rolls his eyes yet again, but begrudgingly grabs plates, forks, and knives.

"Hey, Zhongli," you call over to the tall man sitting in the living room. "I know Xiao said that you don't like fish, but I don't have much else to offer you. Will you be fine for tonight?"

Zhongli chuckles and tells you he has his fiance cooking dinner at home. Xiao and Scaramouche roll their eyes, to which you chuckle.

You plate the food and bring it over to the two cat boys who are just reveling in the smell of the fish. Scaramouche starts eating first, to which you remind him to do the pre dinner ritual while Xiao knows the custom and waits. After you guys do the traditional Inazuma "ittadakimasu," Xiao takes a small bite of the snapper, eyes wide, and trying to decide if he likes it or not. Scaramouche, on the other hand, starts devouring the rice first, followed by a few bites of the fish; neither of the boys seemed interested in the edamame, which was fine by you since it was your favorite part.

"I-I think I like fish," Xiao murmurs quietly, you almost couldn't hear him.

"That's great!" You beamed. "One of these days I'll try to make almond tofu. Can't guarantee it'll be any good, but we can give it our best shot."

After you finish dinner, you ask Scaramouche to help with cleaning up to which he gave you a bit of a hard time, but then reluctantly agreed. He complained every step of the way, griping about why Xiao wasn't helping or how the food stuck to the plates while washing them off. In response, you gave him a hard stare, and he almost immediately shut up, his tail flicked in agitation.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot: we need to bring Xiao's stuff in. Hey Zhongli, can you help me bring stuff in?" You ask the taller man.

Surprisingly, Xiao did not bring that much: only a duffle bag full of clothes, shampoo, and other toiletries, as well as a giant stuffed animal in the shape of a bird. You chuckle to yourself. Who knew the seemingly stoic catboy would have a giant stuffed animal? You couldn't help but wonder if he brought enough, but Zhongli mentioned that the catboy didn't ask for a lot nor sought out anything.

"So Xiao, here's your room!" You say as you lead him to the guest bedroom. "Let me know if I need to get anything for you or if you don't like something."

"You weren't that nice with me," Scaramouche grumbles under his breath. You pretend like you didn't hear him, although you shot back a glare that said "shut the fuck up or else."

"...it looks great," Xiao mumbles. "Will the other one be staying in the same room? I notice two beds."

"Hell no," Scaramouche scoffs. "I'll be staying with y/n because I was here first." He sticks his tongue out, causing Xiao to hide behind you; he wasn't scared, just put off by the other's attitude.

"Scara," you sigh. "Would it kill you to be nice for five minutes? Or least not be a freaking jerk to our guest?"

"Pretty sure it would."

As the two cat boys are glaring at each other, Zhongli takes his leave. "Be good for y/n ok, Xiao? Despite the rambunctious one, I believe this to be the best place to stay while Childe and I move all of our stuff to his new place." Xiao flinches at the mention of the other man in Zhongli's life. He was loud, annoying, and honestly a bit of a jerk. Kind reminds him of the catboy he's going to be living with in a way, although Scaramouche seemed more introverted and catty than Childe.

The three of you bid Zhongli farewell, and once the door shuts, Scaramouche makes a beeline for your room, presumably claiming over half the bed for himself. You pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration because you wanted to at least let them get to know each other, or at least acknowledge each other, but that wasn't happening. Xiao flicks his tail as he slinks off to the guest bedroom, closing the door behind him; it was going to be a long month wasn't it?

When you get to your room, Scaramouche is already in his pajamas, curled up, seemingly asleep with his ear twitching ever so slightly and his mouth slightly open, although you could tell he was just pretending to be asleep. He usually pulled this act when he knew you were angry at him to try and get on your good side, and the worst part was- it usually worked. He was just so adorable when he wasn't berating you or being a jerk in general. Tonight though, he was in deep trouble.

"Scaramouche Balladeer the Sixth." You say sternly. "I know you are not asleep. You know you're in some deep shit." He tsked, his ruse ruined.

"Look, I don't like sharing you or my space," He pouts, sitting up. "The sooner he's gone, the better. Luckily, he seems to be the quiet, obedient type, so there's that going for him."

"Scara, please, will you at least try to make a friend?"

Scaramouche sits deep in thought for a bit, interrupted by small squeaking sounds;almost like crying. You both whip your heads around trying to figure out the source of the sounds, only to realize they were coming from Xiao's room. You rush over to his room while Scaramouche stays on the bed, pouting because you left him again for a random person or cat boy again. Knocking on Xiao's door, the sounds stop, but still muffled sniffling persisted.

"Xiao?" You call softly. Scaramouche stares at the door, annoyed that something interrupt his time with you. "Xiao are you ok?"

You open the door and Xiao almost falls into your chest, cheeks stained with tears; his ears are flat against his head and tail drooped; he was clearly not having a good night. The green haired cat boy looks up at you, eyes wide, and almost confused as if he didn't know where he was.

"What happened?" He mumbles, wiping his eyes, realizing that he still had tears at the corners of his eyes.

"Y/n heard you crying and was concerned about you and you disturbed our alone time," Scaramouche spits out, leaning against the wall.

"Scaramouche, " you groan. "I was actually laying into him for being a jerk. Are you ok? Did you want to come sleep in my room tonight? Scara and I won't bite. Ok fine *I* won't bite but he might try." Scaramouche glares at both you and Xiao before heading off to the bedroom.

"I think I'm fine," Xiao responds after the other cat boy disappears. "Thank you for your concern, I'm just not used to sleeping here yet."

"That's a-ok! I'll leave my door open in case you need me. Good night, Xiao."

"Good night y/n."

As per nightly routine, you gently stroke the top of Scaramouche's head to help calm yourself before drifting off to sleep. His purrs and ear flicks make it all the more soothing.

Why were cat boys so damn adorable?!

The next morning, you wake up, feeling strangely warm and notice that you have not one but two cat boys in your bed. Scaramouche was sleeping in front of you, snuggled against your chest, tail wrapped around your right wrist. His breathing suggests that he is very much in a deep sleep and it would probably be wise not to wake him. The other source of heat was from Xiao snuggled up against your back, clinging on to your shirt. You notice his tail attempted to wrap itself around your leg, but it just ended up being draped over your thigh. If you had turned around, you'd notice that he still had tear stained cheeks, but otherwise looked pretty serene.

Luckily, it was your day off, so you were in no hurry to move, but you usually liked to try and get breakfast started as soon as you woke up. Come to think of it, what was for breakfast? Bacon and eggs? Salted fish? Hashbrowns and grits? OK the last one was not appealing to you in the slightest.

As you're lost in your thoughts, the two cat boys start to stir. "Good morning Scaramouche. Good morning Xiao," you greet them as Scaramouche and Xiao start rubbing their eyes. It was so adorable!! "What did you two want for breakfast? I was thinking of bacon, eggs, and toast personally."

"Anything is fine by me," Xiao sleepily mumbles.

"I want y/n," Scaramouche slurs, still very much half asleep. "Warm, fluffy, and slightly salty."

"I'm going to ignore you, Scara." You were met with a tongue click. He was trying to get under your skin, and it was almost working, but you knew food comes first.

"Now, if you guys would let me get up and start cooking, that'll be great," you continue on; Scaramouche's tail was coiled even tighter around your wrist, and you had to pull slightly to try and make him let go; he almost didn’t give in, but in the end, you won that struggle. Xiao’s tail was still over your thigh, but luckily he did not object to you moving it slightly so you could get up to make food.

About half way through you finishing up breakfast, the cat boys drag themselves to the kitchen, tails drooping at first, but once they smelled the bacon and eggs, their tails and ears perked up slightly. Scaramouche reluctantly grabbed plates and utensils for the three of you , which you were extremely grateful for. Xiao sat at the table, too scared to make conversation with Scaramouche or even you; it was his first morning in a new place after all. He kept making glances at the antisocial boy, trying to figure out how to attempt to get along.

“What are you staring at?” Scaramouche spat out, tail swished angrily. He wasn’t used to having to deal with other people besides you in the morning and he hated people staring at him for no reason.

“...nothing,” Xiao mumbles, ears drooping. Attempt at conversation: failed. Then again, he didn’t enjoy interacting with others too much. Xiao was hoping you and Scaramouche would be entertaining to be with at least, however you seemed to be fine, but the other one…maybe not so much.

“Look, I don’t enjoy conversation to just fill the silence, especially first thing in the morning. If you have something to say, say it outright, otherwise leave me alone.” You groan internally at hearing Scaramouche say this to Xiao. Why couldn’t they get along? Was it because they seemed so similar that they hated each other? Was it because cat boys just don’t get along at first?

“Sounds good to me. I don’t enjoy talking much anyways, but Zhongli said I should try to be more sociable.” Oh good, they’re getting along, kinda.

“Ok boys, breakfast is ready!” You start serving the scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, and buttered toast to the hungrily waiting cat boys, who were already grabbing their forks in anticipation. “Scara, calm down, attacking the eggs as they’re coming off the pan won’t make them go in your mouth any faster. Xiao, don’t fill up on just bread, you need protein as well.” Gods, it was like taking care of children some days, although you couldn’t blame them: the food smelled divine if you said so yourself.

You three ate in relative silence, like most mornings, although you were silently hoping that having an additional person there would help ease the atmosphere; the problem was it almost made it more stifling. Scaramouche kept looking at you, trying to see whether you favored him or the new cat boy better, while Xiao was trying to find the right time and words to try and break the silence. You, meanwhile, had barely sat down after serving breakfast to the two silent boys and making yourself a plate, so trying to make the breakfast table more lively or even hospitable was a bit out of the question for now.

Hopefully soon, everyone could learn to get along; maybe Xiao could teach Scaramouche how to be more respectful and maybe Scaramouche could help break Xiao out of his shell. It was going to be a long, long, month.

~~~~~~~~

Writers block is a bitch and trying to find a nice wrapping up point is also a bitch

But holy shit 3k words of freaking cat boys because...reasons

Might do an H patch eventually but def more catboy fluff

#genshin impact #fanfic #cat boy #genshin #Scaramouche #Xiao #Catboi

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esotericas-sims · 16 days

Text

Dear Victoria,

I took your advice, and wrote to your father - though I suppose I should get into the habit of calling him my father - and he agreed to let me come stay with him. He said he's living in St. Aude nowadays, and your address for him is out-of-date. Apparently he inherited a home from some great-aunt... I fear it's going to be a crumbling ruin. But I suppose we'll have to manage. It's better than heading back to New York. And he even agreed to let George stay as well, which was a small miracle.

We set out early this morning. It was odd to leave school, though I promised to write the Marseilles. If the tearful goodbyes were bad, the train ride was worse. I haven't taken one since I first arrived in La Lueur, and I'd forgotten just how much they turn my stomach. For the sake of my own nausea, I'll refrain from describing the journey.

After our train arrived, George and I found a carriage waiting for us, a rickety old thing. But the driver had our names, and he brought us out of town, and into the countryside. And the house, Victoria! It was like something out of a painting, all crumbling stone and ivy.

It took us a moment to remember we were supposed to do anything other than stare. We did get there eventually, though, and the doors were opened almost immediately after we knocked. I half expected some sort of butler inside, but it was my father who opened the door for us. He looks... Different, from how I remember him, I think. Though it's far too faded now for me to be sure. He seemed eager to greet me, and he was polite enough to George, though I'm not certain they got off on the friendliest of feet. George still isn't much of a gentleman.

Then he took us on a grand tour of the house, which I won't detail in full because I believe it could fill an entire book, but the place was lovely. That's all that I could hope to say. The tour took some time, though, and Moses - he insisted that I call him that, instead of Mr. Spectre. I'm still unsure how I feel about it - was just settling us in for dinner when a little boy arrived in the door. Moses introduced him as Harrison, his son. Did you know we had a little brother? I know I didn't.

Moses certainly never mentioned a mother in the house, nor did Harrison. He seemed like a sweet boy, though. I get the impression that it's rather lonely out here, with just his father and the servants. So perhaps he'll be glad to have us about? I hope so, anyways. I would quite like if he liked me, he's terribly charming.

I suppose that's about the end of the tale for now. Moses settled me in the guest room, and George in an unoccupied room down the hall. It's a bit shabby - "Needs some work" he told me - but I've got a beautiful view of the farm outside. I hope you're well, and I do hope you'll come and visit me soon. I'd like to see your face, it's been so long that I can barely remember what it looks like.

Your sister, Ruby

Playing with SeveralPerson’s Ultimate Decades Challenge Rules

Started: 1800

Current year: 1888

Family tree

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jackdaw-sprite · 1 year

Text

Funerary Rites, Chapter 3 - Walk

After a few months in which real life monopolized my time, I've managed to finally finish chapter 3 of Funerary Rites!

Danny sees where Caretaker lives! Or part of it, anyway. Oh, and he has a little bit of a crisis. I'm sure it's fine.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Words: 5723

Characters: Danny, Clockwork

Warnings: Some controlling behavior, I guess? Caretaker has a very poor understanding of some boundaries.

Read on AO3, or below:

The journey to Caretaker's home was winding and strange. Danny had seen Faerie before, of course; his periodic slips and stumbles through the veil growing up had been how he'd met Caretaker. But he'd never explored, never lingered. As a child, Danny had been paralyzed by fear at the sudden shift. As he grew older, he'd known not to wander regardless. His parents had warned him about fae. And Caretaker had, too.

Thus, the world Danny now walked was strange to him. It was also so vivid Danny felt almost like he'd stepped into a painting.The forest they were in was awash in violet shadow, its twisting trunks and underbrush touched with patches of gilded light. Here, a bough hung in stark relief, leaves a vivid green. There, berries winked from the crown of a bush. The understory and trees wove together into a sort of maze; Danny's attention would stray to the arc of a branch and follow brambles and hills deeper, deeper into the forest through natural archways and halls until the ground vanished.

It was an arresting sight, and more than once Danny would only realize he'd stopped when Caretaker nudged at his shoulder to shake him from the daze.

"We have a long way ahead, child," he murmured once. "Come. You'll not want to be caught by those who weave this place."

Finally, there was a break in the maze. A lightly trodden path slithered into view, and they turned to follow it. With the extra space and without Caretaker tending his every step, Danny walked beside him.

The path was clear of the thorns and thistles that had littered their earlier journey, but the soil of it was dark with moisture. Patches of mud swallowed it whole in places, and there Danny could see the texture of shoes and stranger things; claws and paws and hooves, and a few wheel-tracks that had left the ground intricately stamped behind them.

The same mud pulled insistently at Danny's feet, and he nearly lost a shoe to it. With a frustrated grimace he wrenched it free, only to have the other one stick fast a few steps later. This time he almost snarled pulling it free and overbalanced, tipping forward.

Caretaker caught him before he could pitch headfirst into the mud. His long fingers wrapped securely around Danny's shoulders and pulled him upright.

Danny paused, torn between wordless frustration and wanting to thank Caretaker for at least keeping him from being covered in mud and wanting to dance away from Caretaker's grip–his fingers were too long, too solid.

Wrong.

"'nks," muttered Danny, doing his best to sway away from Caretaker's creepy fingers. "Why're we using this path?"

"It is the least treacherous way out of these woods, despite its frustrations." Caretaker tipped his hood at Danny's muddy feet.

"Oh. Great."

A small, muddy, and very frustrating eternity later the violet shadow of the woodlands broke open.

Light flooded over the path to reveal meadows sparsely dotted with trees, shadows pooling ink. The grasses and flowers painting them were an impossible array of color and scent, but most importantly the path ahead was dry.

"Finally," said Danny, and Caretaker huffed a laugh.

The walking was easier from there, and Danny found himself distracted by the world around them once more.

Faerie brimmed with the wild and strange. They traveled over meadows drenched in honeyed sounds and smells. There were odd little bridges over creeks teeming with darting creatures that only pretended to be fish when Danny looked at them. Once, there was only an assortment of stones in place of a bridge and Caretaker laid three stalks of wheat at the riverside before allowing Danny to cross.

When Danny looked back, he caught a glimpse of something red vanishing beneath the water, and the stalks were gone.

Always, always Caretaker kept Danny close by. Once, they saw shapes on the road and he tugged Danny under his cloak

Danny hated it.

He hated the fear that raced through his heart and set it galloping as he heard the strange cadence of footsteps going past. He hated how slow they were, and wondered if he would hear them stop. Hear them turn and shout and begin to chase them because Danny wasn't supposed to be here. Because Danny was human.

His mouth was dry.

Caretaker's cloak was as soft on the inside as always, his tunic crisp and cool to the touch. His hand was clasped against Danny's shoulder. It was warm like comfort, like I will guide you home. For a promise, for a price.

Warm like a familiar face in a horrible situation.

Horrible like one.

Outside the shelter of the cloak Danny remembered hiding in too many times, the footsteps stopped, and a voice like sand and wind said something he couldn’t make out. Caretaker gave some kind of calm response.

Danny felt sick.

His parents had said that some fae ate humans.

Caretaker didn't. Caretaker wouldn't. A stone grew in the back of Danny's throat at the idea of it, of one turn too many in an awful day.

He swallowed it back and let his fingers brush the lip of his back pocket.

You shall not harm me, nor through inaction allow me to come to harm…

It would be fine.

It would.

In the dark of the cloak, Caretaker’s hand wound farther around Danny’s shoulder, solid like iron. He said something else, and the footsteps resumed, then faded to nothing.

When Caretaker released him, Danny surged from the cover of the cloak like he was surfacing from underwater and twisted to face him, gasping the fresh air.

“Are you alright?”

Danny’s answer stuck in his throat, too tangled to come out.

They kept walking.

Past trees bent low and knotted, past reeds and vines woven into sculpture, boulders that breathed and a thousand other strangenesses. The slip of earth beneath Danny's feet faded into a dull rhythm and a sharper ache, and he found his mind wandering despite the circumstances.

The sun ambled through the sky.

Occasionally, he could hear snatches of music on the wind, a faint ringing. A distant bell tower, maybe. Danny occupied himself for a time wondering what belltowers looked like, here.

Slowly, the brushstrokes of Faerie's landscape became at once less deliberate and more defined. Trees took less artful paths to the sky. Scrub bristled haphazardly together, and copses of trees combined to form a patchwork with grasses.

It was a transition. To what, Danny didn't know.

Eventually, they came to a tree. It was an enormous old thing, bowed and creaking with age, and its branches swallowed the path in its shade. Caretaker paused by it to run a hand over its bark, before stepping around the roots at its base onto a hidden path. Danny followed.

This new path was as knobbled as the tree, and too narrow to walk side by side; in places it was barely wide enough to show as a line in the grass. Without the space to walk beside him, Danny trailed behind Caretaker close enough to brush his cloak. They wound around hillocks and through more brush until the ancient tree was hidden from view many times over.

Caretaker stopped.

Close on his trail, Danny almost ran into him. He scuffed a few steps back to right himself and peered around Caretaker to see what had made him stop.

There was a sculpture.

It emerged from the brush surrounding it incongruous and tall; taller than Caretaker by several feet and farther across than Danny could spread his hands, but with barely any depth at all. It gleamed silver, but looked closer to lace than metal and more delicate by far than the iron bars guarding the windows of Fenton Works.

It evoked a spider's web.

Danny looked at Caretaker, who glanced in his direction before easing off a glove.

Oh, Danny thought. That's what's wrong with his fingers.

They had too many, too mobile joints.

Caretaker fluttered them for a moment, fingernails winking bronze in the evening light. Then he traced a finger over the sculpture, strumming it like a harp to a sound like falling dew.

It shivered. The webbed strands slid past one another, leaving the knots at the edges tightening and the holes at the center growing, growing until what stood before them wasn't a sculpture at all, but a doorway framed by intricate knotwork.

Caretaker gestured him through. Hesitant, Danny went.

He didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. One step through the door, two, and the world was the same one he'd seen. No sudden shifts caught Danny off guard, no sense of danger or sudden swell of chatter from the trees. No sudden silence, either.

He was just on the other side.

He turned, and there was the strangeness Danny had expected. From this side of the doorway, there was a wall of bramble framing it.

Caretaker let it weave shut behind them with a wave of his hand, and then gestured for Danny to follow. Danny did, trying not to let ice creep too far through his veins.

Caretaker had opened that door, and he'd shut it. Danny had no idea how to do either. Was he stuck on this side of the door now? Without Caretaker, could he leave?

Did it matter?

He was only going to do something for Caretaker, right? Nothing bad or that would hurt him, and less than a week.

A week. He could keep it together for a week. No matter how weird it got.

Danny stepped over a long tuft of grass.

The path was wider on this side, though not better kept. It was laid with stone, but the cracks were overgrown. Tall grasses reached out from them and drooped over the flagstones, and Danny picked his way from one to the next. While Caretaker moved with careless grace, Danny was a bit more awkward on his feet. He didn't really want to stumble and fall. It would be embarrassing. And it would give Caretaker a reason to help bring him to his feet again. With his creepy hands.

Danny shuddered.

They were a thousand times worse now that Danny knew what they were like under the gloves. Not that Caretaker had replaced the one he'd removed, no. He'd removed the other glove as well, and tucked both into his belt and now every time Danny caught sight of his hands he also caught sight of the way they bent.

Against his better judgment, Danny looked up. At the sight of him, Caretaker smiled again. It was a quick thing, and small.

Danny ignored it. It was probably just another tactic to make him feel safe.

He wasn't. He wasn't safe, didn't feel safe. He looked around, and discovered that they were in a field. It was dense with bushes, and full of grass that came up to his waist. In the distance he could see the straight lines of a building, veiled by a stand of trees. What was that? Were they going there?

"Child," said Caretaker, and rested his hand on Danny's shoulder. "Come. It's been a long journey. Don't you wish to wash yourself free of dust and grime?"

Danny shrugged off the hand, and considered. A shower did sound nice, actually. They'd been walking for hours and right now Danny was sticky with sweat. He could imagine the film of dust covering him, too. And it would be wonderful for his aching feet. Just because his parents occasionally took them on wilderness survival vacations didn't mean Danny liked hiking.

"What's the catch?" Danny asked.

"I'm offering you hospitality, as agreed."

"That doesn't mean there isn't a catch," Danny said. "What is it?"

"Why are you so eager to see ulterior motives in my kindnesses?"

"It's a kindness now?" Danny asked, pointedly.

Caretaker paused, then dropped his hand with a sigh. "The catch is thus: the human world is laden with many poisons. Especially with the destruction of the study, you will be covered with them. I have no wish for you to leave traces of poisonous dust within my home."

That…made sense.

The bathhouse was a pale building nestled on the edge of a large clearing, the path leading up to it as worn and overgrown as everything else beyond the spider’s web gate. Danny was starting to wonder if Caretaker preferred a touch of wilderness, or if wherever they were just lacked a, hah, caretaker.

The sun was low, now. It was not quite brushing the treetops, but the shadow of the forest was already creeping from the shelter of the canopy. The space between the trunks was deep and dark, but not uninviting. A faint breeze ruffled the trees and Danny's hair, and Caretaker's cloak waved gently in it.

The air was sweet.

The first of the three steps to the entryway was cracked. The smaller part of the step tilted away from the center, and a tuft of grass poked from the space it left behind. The steps, at least, were swept clean.

Danny followed Caretaker up them and into the bath house itself.

Despite the wear of the exterior, the interior was clean and in good repair; the door opened to a small room with a tile floor and wooden benches. Light fell from a pair of high windows into the space, criss-crossing the far walls in clean lines without hitting any suspended dust.

Caretaker pulled a towel from a cupboard along the wall and set it down on a bench. "The bath is through the door," he said.

Danny nodded.

After Caretaker left, Danny padded through the doorway. He'd never been in a bathhouse before–he lived in Illinois, not ancient Rome. But it seemed intuitive enough. The stone walls of the exterior were bare on the inside as well, and a wide tile walkway separated them from a large pool. Bath? Danny shrugged mentally. It didn't really matter. The water was clear and inviting, and if Caretaker wanted him to clean himself with it, he didn't expect it to do Danny any harm.

Besides, the trek had left him footsore, dusty, and more than a little sticky. Even if Caretaker hadn't been of the opinion that the human world was full of cooties or whatever, a bath would be nice.

Danny dipped a toe into the water to test and found it cool, verging on cold. Just right for tired feet. He sat at the edge with a sigh, and let them soak for a bit before he slid the rest of the way into the water with another, deeper sigh.

It did feel nice.

Danny scrubbed everywhere he could. He didn't know what the proper decontamination procedures or whatever were if you were covered in something poisonous. But he could try. If Caretaker was right and he was coated in dust poisonous to fae, it would only be right. He wouldn't want poisonous dust in his house, either. And considering he didn't know when the house had been built, maybe there was some stuff poisonous to him, too. Didn't they use lead and asbestos in buildings at some point? And it wasn’t like his parents did normal things in the basement. Who knew what was involved in tearing a hole in reality? He hoped it wasn't mercury. Or anything radioactive. Or poisonous in general.

Anyway.

A nice thorough scrubbing was hardly the worst thing under the circumstances.

Danny surfaced from rinsing his hair and looked at the door. He wondered where Caretaker had gone off to – he hadn't heard footsteps since Caretaker had left him to the bathhouse, and it was starting to feel like a long time.

He should probably finish before Caretaker came back.

The towel was in easy reach. Danny wrapped it at his waist and dripped through the doorway to the changing area.

He stopped cold in the doorway.

“What.”

His clothes were gone.

Where were his clothes?!?

The room wasn't empty.

A dark square of fabric lay under a piece of paper on one of the benches.

His piece of paper, Danny determined after studying it with unsteady hands. It hadn't been swapped out or changed. The rules they'd agreed to were still there. He set it to the side and picked up the cloth.

It slithered through his hands, unfolding into a bunch of much longer material. Some of it fell to the floor and puddled there.

It was probably clothes. Danny breathed out, feeling his pulse fall back from the verge of panic. Okay. He had clothes. They just weren't his clothes. This was fine. Well no. It wasn't fine. The whole thing was very far from fine.

But he had clothes.

…

It made sense, Danny told himself, and remembered to breathe in. If he was covered in poisonous dust, then his clothes were, too. Caretaker was probably just. Taking care of them. Making sure they weren't poisoned, or washing them. and then he'd give them back, and these clothes were just so Danny wouldn't be left without while that happened. Which was nice of him. Generous. Or something.

Weren't you supposed to tell your guest what you were doing, when you did that sort of thing? Assuming Danny believed that it was just kindness.

He didn't, really.

Danny swallowed.

His cereal bars were gone too.

…It wasn't important.

If Caretaker only gave him food with terrible strings attached he'd just go hungry.

Nor through inaction allow me to come to harm, murmured the rules in his head.

The tunic slipped through Danny’s fingers again and fell to the floor. Did hunger count as harm? Starvation would. Going hungry for multiple days probably would.

What was Caretaker allowed to do, to make sure Danny wouldn’t go hungry?

Danny realized he wasn’t breathing again.

Focus.

One problem at a time.

His clothes were gone. His cereal bars were gone. He was still only wearing a towel, but there were clothes he could wear.

He could put on the clothes. At the least, it would make him slower to die of exposure if he had to make a break for the trees.

If, Danny appended a while later, he could figure out how. He'd laid them out on the floor to get a better idea of what they were and overall they seemed…complicated. And a lot. A lot of complexity, a lot of pieces. A lot of embroidery, on some of it.

Well, he had to start somewhere. If nothing else he'd just get decent and then Caretaker could deal with the consequences of replacing all of Danny's clothes. If he wanted to give Danny a confusing mess then he should expect Danny to wear it like a confusing mess.

So there.

Mind made up, Danny reached for the most intuitive part of the ensemble: what was possibly an undershirt.

Danny took stock.

There was no mirror in the bathhouse, but he felt…not sensibly dressed. There was no sensibly dressed with whatever this was. But at least somewhat okay. If Caretaker disagreed, well. He should have left instructions.

Danny looked at the door again, almost expecting Caretaker to appear at the thought of him.

He still hadn't returned.

Danny picked at a sleeve, examining the barely-visible embroidering on it for a moment while he wavered. But he couldn't stay in the bathhouse all week. Danny tucked his paper into a reasonably secure fold and opened the door.

Caretaker was on the other side. "Ah," he said, looking down at Danny. The corners of his mouth tugged it into an almost-smile.

"What?" asked Danny, already irritated by the pointless complexity of the clothes.

“That’s an unusual way to wear those.”

“Well I would hardly know, would I?”

Caretaker cocked his head. “Of course not. I had–”

He interrupted himself by kneeling before Danny, and reaching out for the length of cloth Danny had used to tie his shirt closed. “Here," he said, and pulled it apart in a swift motion. "You need to wear it like this–" he broke off.

This was probably because Danny had frozen. His hands were fisted in his pants tightly enough to ache. Every hair on his arms had puffed out and he stood ramrod straight and stiff as a board. Like imitating wood would make this stop.

In the silence, Danny could hear the belltower tolling away in the distance again, low and soft and something else.

Caretaker withdrew his hands, watching Danny from under his hood; it was light enough still to see more than the glint of his eyes. They looked at one another for a moment, and then Caretaker gathered himself with a breath.

"I do not intend to harm you, child," he said, voice as soft as the ringing.

"I'm not–" said Danny. "I don't. Don't do that." His hands moved to the sash of their own volition and clutched at it maybe a bit too tight. He took a shuddering breath. "What did you do with my clothes?" What did you do with my food?

"They were contaminated as well."

Were. Danny swallowed, and decided that he could freak about what that meant later. Later. One thing at a time.

"Don't touch me like that," he said, and his voice wobbled a bit despite his effort to seem unaffected.

Caretaker frowned. "I was fixing your clothes."

"Yeah. Don't. Look, can you just. I don't know, show me?"

"I was also doing that."

Breathe, Danny.

"Not on me."

Caretaker's eyes flickered over Danny's face. He retracted the hand reaching for Danny and brought it instead to his neck. His frown deepened. "You fear my touch?"

"I–" yes wasn't the truth. Not quite. But no wasn't, either. "Maybe."

The bell in the distance – a clocktower? – gave one final toll, sharper than the rest before falling silent.

"You did not fear it before."

And at that, the panic and fear boiled into fury. Before he knew what he was doing Danny stepped forward, words rushing out of him like steam. "Because you hadn't threatened my parents! You said you'd kill them! You hurt them and scared me and now you've stolen my clothes. What did you even do with my food?!?" He punctuated the last with a jabbed finger.

Caretaker recoiled from it, hands curling in on themselves like dying insects. He stood and his hands vanished behind the folds of his cloak but Danny wasn't done.

"Why are you so surprised that I'm afraid of you after all that? I thought–I thought."

Danny's voice broke. He couldn't finish that sentence. The betrayal was still too thick on his tongue for that. So he fisted his hands in the cloth of his too-strange clothing and changed tacks, voice turning quieter. "Anyone would be afraid, if you showed up and nearly killed their parents and then demanded they come with you to save them." He found himself looking at Caretaker's boots and forced himself to look up again. To meet Caretaker's eyes. "Anyone would be, if the only thing keeping them safe from you was a piece of paper and you took their clothes and their food the moment their back was turned and then showed up like you hadn't done anything at all, and then you, you." Danny shook his head.

Caretaker was silent. Watchful.

"Of course I'm afraid," Danny said again, and the silence trailed between them.

Caretaker remained in the doorway for some time. But the slant of his shoulders was heavy, and he made no move to enter the bathhouse.

Eventually, Danny looked away and down at the towel he'd left piled on one of the seats. He picked it up like fiddling with it would make the situation less awkward. He began to fold it.

"I can take that," said Caretaker, and held out a hand. It was the first thing he'd said since Danny had said he was afraid of him, and his voice was soft, the movement ginger, his fingers still.

Danny tossed it to him.

"And," added Caretaker. "I can show you how to tie your sash."

"I know how to tie knots," Danny snapped.

Caretaker did not react to the venom. "Later, then. You will need to be properly dressed the day after tomorrow."

At the reminder that he was here to fulfill some purpose, Danny's stomach dropped. He'd forgotten. How had he forgotten that Caretaker wanted him for something? That he hadn't just kidnapped Danny to torment him or to dress him up.

"Why?" Danny asked.

"It will be a formal ceremony."

"A ceremony? Will there be other fae? Will they–will they know I'm human?" Danny asked.

"No," said Caretaker. A hint of amusement sneaked back into his voice. "No others. Just you and me. You do not need to worry about fooling anyone."

"Then," said Danny. "Why is how I'm dressed important? Why can't I just dress how I want? Like a t-shirt and jeans."

The amusement vanished. "You must be dressed appropriately," Caretaker snapped.

Danny's anger sputtered like a fire quenched. He drew back, feeling ice race along his skin even as the terrible expression which had crossed Caretaker's face vanished as swiftly as it appeared. Concern replaced it, and Caretaker stepped forward.

Danny stepped back.

Caretaker almost shrank in place. His shoulders fell with his head and for a moment he seemed only skin and bones and exhaustion. He hung still, silhouetted by the doorway. Behind him, the dying evening light burnished the trees and garden in copper.

"I have no desire to hurt you," he said, and Danny knew now that he was lying. "I–"

Silence choked the next word.

Caretaker blocked the door. The hand–the claw holding Danny’s towel flexed unnaturally.

The first cicadas began to scream. It was almost enough to cover the sound of the distant clocktower, ringing again.

“If you are hungry, there is food,” Caretaker offered. It was quiet. He was still playing at smallness. Like Danny hadn't seen the ugly truth of him just now.

“I’m not hungry,” Danny lied, and wondered if Caretaker would call him on it.

The cicada-song swelled.

“In that case,” Caretaker said. “I will show you to where you may sleep.”

It was a spacious room.

It was also spartan. There was a bed, a window, a wardrobe. The walls were plain and bare, the floor, cold. There was no rug. There were no paintings or pictures or tapestries on the walls, and no designs engraved on them either. When Danny opened it, the wardrobe was similarly empty. It smelled only vaguely woody and a little sharp.

Danny shut its doors and looked at Caretaker, who loomed at the entrance, the towel still an incongruous presence in his claws.

They were in a small building in the same large clearing as the bathhouse, built with the same stone and low angles, and in the back of his mind Danny wondered why they were so similar when the house he'd glimpsed through the trees was so different.

It didn't matter.

What did was the way Caretaker was lingering just outside the doorway. With his hood still up, the twilight was now deep enough to swallow the subtleties of his expressions but the slump of his shoulders remained visible.

Danny ignored it. "Is this a prison?" he asked, squinting at Caretaker.

"No," said Caretaker, voice a hoarse whisper. Had Danny still believed that he was kind, he would have believed that Caretaker was devastated. But fae were adept at lying without speaking untruths. Pretending horror or defeat would be a good way to do it.

Danny narrowed his eyes, and tried again. "Are you planning to keep me here against my will?"

Caretaker straightened. "I am not planning to violate the terms of our agreement."

That wasn't what he'd asked.

"Do you think," asked Caretaker before Danny could respond with another question, "that our agreement is unambiguously not against your will?"

Oh.

"Do not think that I have deluded myself into believing you are happy to be here, child.” Caretaker’s voice was quiet and exhausted. ”Nor that you would be here without need on your part." Soundlessly, his silhouette turned.

"Then why is it so empty?" asked Danny.

It was a moment before Caretaker responded. His hood tilted in Danny’s direction.

"Would you accept a well-appointed room? Or would you grow suspicious that the comforts of it were intended to bewitch you?"

"But there isn't even a rug."

Caretaker turned back towards Danny. "The rooms in the house are more comfortable. Would you prefer one of them?"

A choice.

The pit that had been twisting in Danny's stomach for ages gave a yank. Caretaker had suggested that Danny clean up, and then replaced his clothes.

What was the expression? Give an inch and they'll take a mile?

Was this a test?

A way to get a foot in the door, make another crack in Danny's…everything?

What was going on?

Danny swallowed. "No. I'm okay here."

The outline of Caretaker's hood bowed in a nod. There was a rustle of cloth, and Danny felt something cold and hard pressed into his hand.

"Um."

"Whisper into it if you require me. I will hear."

And with that, Caretaker was gone.

There wasn't much to do after that than crawl into bed and sleep.

Or try to.

The insect hum that had built through nightfall was thick and heavy in the air. It sat on his chest and buzzed and it seemed almost to weigh at the passage of time as well; It felt like the line of moonlight through the window hadn’t moved in hours.

Danny stared up at the ceiling and tried to concentrate on the dark shapes of the beams crossing it. Counted them, tried to count the knots he could see in the wood, traced his eyes along the shadows' edges.

Tried to drown his thoughts in the relentless insect hum from outside.

It wasn't that there was something wrong with the bed. It was soft, and the sheets were clean and cool in the summer night air. Nothing itched.

His nose did. Danny scratched it.

There was nothing wrong with the bed. There were no lumps, it didn't squeak when he shifted his weight or any of the other things that could be keeping him up. They smelled odd but not alarmingly so, like sleeping over at Tucker's house and smelling a different detergent on the sheets.

Not a friend's house.

Everything was wrong.

Danny was scared. He was scared and alone in the dark in a strange place in another world he'd never had much luck escaping by himself and someone he’d trusted had nearly killed his parents and he didn’t know how they were even doing and it was very, very hard not to imagine all the horrible things that could happen when he could only look up at the ceiling and try to distract himself from the knot in his stomach with the knots in the rafters he could barely see.

He got up.

The door was a vague shadow on the wall, and Danny considered it. Remembered his parents’ preoccupation with thresholds, remembered the way Caretaker had stayed just outside the door.

Maybe…maybe he shouldn’t open it.

The light from the full moon through the window was enough to see by, and Danny shuffled across the silvered patch of floor to look out. If he couldn't sleep, then maybe he could at least look at something more interesting than the ceiling.

The clearing was still. The trees stood sentinel around it, the space between them dark as the sky above.

He could see the overgrown maze of bushes between the buildings. It was everywhere; climbing up walls and piling on itself. He'd thought the path Caretaker had led him along was badly overgrown, but from the window he could see another path vanish entirely into a mess of probably-shrubs.

Who was supposed to take care of this? People with lots of land had gardeners, right?

Had Caretaker done something to his?

Movement caught Danny's eye and he crouched down to peer over the windowsill.

A figure wound its way among the plants with smooth movements that belied the waist deep plants. It wasn't dressed in Caretaker's dark cloak–instead it was covered in a pale cloth. It knelt and vanished behind a mess of twigs.

What was it doing? Danny rose to get a better view, and succeeded only in seeing a sliver of white and obscure movement among the bushes. Some twigs trembled, and Danny swayed to the side to look, to no avail.

After some time, it stood.

Danny froze, heart hammering. But it wasn’t enough.

Slowly, the dark of its face turned towards Danny.

It froze.

For long moments, nothing moved.

And then the figure turned away and slipped along a different path, out of sight.

Danny pulled himself away from the window, no longer sleepy in the least.

Weren't there fae you weren't supposed to look in the eye? What if this was one of them? Caretaker had agreed Danny wouldn't be harmed during the deal but what about after it? Had Danny just stumbled into a trap where he had to agree to more deals with Caretaker to keep safe from an irate fae he wouldn't even have seen if not for the deal he'd had to make to keep his parents safe?

Was that the reason for all this?

He slid down the wall, one hand over his mouth in an effort to keep quiet, half convinced that any moment the fae he’d just seen would come howling at the door.

The door– he hoped thresholds held weight here.

What was he going to do?

What did Caretaker want?

He’d never said.

How could Danny have forgotten to ask? How hadn't he pressed the question?

What would Caretaker make Danny do? What was happening the day after tomorrow that he needed to be dressed up?

What was happening tomorrow that he didn't?

The knot in his stomach sprouted into a more intricate dread and grew up his ribs, gripping at his lungs and heart.

…

Danny curled in on himself, head filling with horrors.

No matter how the night dragged on, the morning would come too soon.

#danny phantom #danny fenton dp #clockwork dp #jackdraw-spwrite #jackdaw-spwrite #funerary rites fae au

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blackjackkent · 3 months

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:O Karlach also wants to talk in camp!

Hopefully this is a cute romance thing, but odds are strong that she's either a) going to tell us more about how she's going to die because the engine is burning up or b) going to rant about Gortash. Place your bets now, and the winner is....

"I've figured it out. Exactly what I want to do with you!"

...I'll be damned, it actually is a cute romance thing. ^_^

All of Hector's available response options here are excellent:

[snickers]

#3 is very, very tempting (especially since I am quite sure the two of them are fucking like rabbits on the regular whenever their campsite allows enough privacy), but Hector is a smidge too dignified still, tragically (and far too deep in the feels side of things). XD

And it's true, really - he would do anything she asked of him, in the end. And he's had a long day and that also seems to tend to make him sentimental.

He smiles slightly at her excitement as he walks over; coming to a halt a little in front of her, he inclines his head in a mock bow, one fist to his chest. "Your wish is my command," he murmurs.

She gives him a slow, almost shy smile and fidgets back and forth on the balls of her feet, her eyes glowing bright in the dimness. "I want to go on a date," she says firmly. Her shoulders are squared as if she's expecting a laugh, a disagreement, a dismissal, and is determined to push on anyway. "A first date. No weapons, no monsters, no mysterious voices. Just you and me and dinner."

She swallows and meets his eyes. He is astonished to see the level of nervousness there; one would think she was asking him to walk off a cliff. "Please say yes," she says earnestly.

Hector blinks at her a few times - he is thrown by this, not because it's something he doesn't want to hear, but because she seems so intense about it that he was fully expecting her to talk about something much less welcome. Then a smile spreads across his face.

Gods, I love you. Yes, of course I want to. Of course I want to spend time with you, be seen with you, experience the world with you... forget all of this for a while. Of course... and you need never fear I would say no...

"What did you have in mind?" he asks, smiling and reaching out to take her hand.

Her eyes brighten and her grin widens eagerly. The words come out faster, spilling over each other as they do when she's particularly excited. "There's a little spot I know in town. Out of the way, but the view of the city is incredible. Say you'll go. My treat!"

For a moment he thinks he can almost see the younger Karlach bleed through - 20 years old and still feeling like she could take on the world, at home in this city, knowing it like the back of her hand. And wanting to share it, this place that is hers, with him.

He tugs her hand to his lips and kisses her palm gently. "I'd love to go out with you," he says softly.

"Yes! Amazing!" Her smile splits her face from ear to ear; he's almost never seen her smile so wide, not since the first night they kissed at Last Light. "Put on your least bloody tunic and meet me back here."

She squirms from foot to foot, her hands flailing in all directions in her elation. "Eeee..." she squeaks. "I'm so excited!"

He finds himself grinning as well, unable to take his eyes off her. He could look at her in these moments of joy forever...

(A/N: I took a brief pause here to put Hector in the Solemnity outfit and have Karlach borrow Shadowheart's Opalescent outfit because OBVIOUSLY we're going to have them get dressed up for dinner. ^_^ EEEE this is so cute.)

"Give me a bit to run ahead. I want to make sure everything's absolutely perfect. See you there!"

(A/N: Look at his FUCKING smile, you guys. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I love them so much. [sob]

Date in next post. ^_^ )

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #karlach x tav #eeeeeeeeeeeeeee

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simmeons · 4 months

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while getting text for answering an ask i found a hidden vamp/priest short story/one shot that was actually.. pretty good! so, eat up my pookies

"What do ye do during the daytime anyways? I mean, other than sleep."

The vampire paused.

"I do not do much else."

"Okay, okay. What about during the night? What then?"

"Whatever comes to my mind first, I suppose."

I cross my arms and my legs, getting comfortable with the man sitting next to me. It's dark out, the both of us sitting alone in the church. I never understood why this vampire was so interested in this place, considering it's a holy place. But here he is, spending his precious night talking to me.

"That's not much of an answer." I frown.

"I answered you, did I not?"

"Aye, ye did. But can't ye be specific? I mean, do ye go out to parks or something? There's no way anyone would be out at a park during the night." The vampire is quiet for a moment before speaking up calmly.

"I have not considered that yet." His deep blue eyes look at me, his hands are placed politely on his lap. He's all pristine, sitting straight and hair all done neatly. He reminds me of a porcelain doll.

"Tell me how it goes when ye try it."

"I shall."

That answer makes me smile, the corners of my mouth curving slightly. I see how he doesn't smile, but his facial features seem to relax. He's never smiled, or shown a lot of emotion really. It was creepy before, but now I've come to appreciate it.

"Well? What do ye do then? If it's not going to parks, and whatnot." I'm not trying to force an answer out, but I can't deny the yearning to learn more about him.

The vampire looks away from me, and I can metaphorically hear the gears turning in his head. Everytime I ask him something he'll look away from me. I don't understand the meaning behind this odd little mannerism, but I don't mind. It's cute.

"Sometimes I will just "hang out" in the woods." The vampire turns to me as he speaks, doing air quotations while saying "hanging out". I know he doesn't completely understand human lingo, and it's sweet he's trying.

"Are there other vampires there to talk to?"

"I have not met another vampire in those woods, so no."

"Isn't that kinda lonely?"

He shakes his head. Well, if I was the only vampire in this town I'd be lonely. Who else can I talk to about my vampire problems?

I hear the slight chirping of birds, and I turn around. The sun is starting to rise, the animals of the village waking up.

"The sun is rising," I say aloud.

"I see that."

I turn back around and see the vampire standing up from his spot and I feel a sense of sadness.

"What do ye sleep during the day?" I blurt out, which makes the vampire rasie a eyebrow at me. "No- I mean, are ye safe? Do ye have a safe place to sleep from the sun?"

He hesitates. I can see it in his body stance, the way he seems a bit more defensive.

"I manage."

I've only known this vampire for 2 months, and I know I shouldn't be feeling this way over a creature of the night- but I feel worried. I'm worried if he is completely safe from the deadly sun, I'm worried if I won't get to talk to him tomorrow.

My eyes drift to the floor, looking at my boots. I want to help him, but is that too weird? Am I coming off too strong? Certainly not, I'm helping a friend! There's nothing wrong with that. Aside from how the church may feel about this..

"Ye can stay in my house today," I bring my eyes up from the floor to look at the vampire. I'm surprised to see his human arms are no longer there, but a huge pair of bat wings. You know what? Just don't question it, Monty. "If ye want to, that is."

The vampire places his "hands" on his hips, the bat wings bending slightly, little bat claws grip his clothed hips. I feel a sensation crawl up my neck like fear, but it's confusion. It stays there like a thought in the back of my head as the vampire looks at me, before it warms into something more of acceptance.

"I suppose I cannot deny your.. kind offer."

"Really?"

"Please do not make me repeat myself."

"Right, I apologize. I'm just surprised," My legs bend and move as I get up from the wooden bench, putting my hands together in front of myself like a polite priest. "I'm glad ye'r accepting nonetheless."

Now a new problem. Just how am I going to get him to my house?

We're both silent. I know he's waiting for me to speak, so I pull some words and thoughts together.

"Just how big are ye as a bat?" I've got a few ideas, but I really need his cooperation.

He blinks at me a few seconds before speaking. "About 3 inches."

3 inches?!

I would've thought such a tall and menacing vampire would be one of those big, large scary bats. Not something that could fit in your hand.

"Uhm.. well," I pull through my small bout of shock to pull back a flap of my priestly uniform. "Ye can hide here. I don't trust just holding ye in my hand. Light could still seep through."

"I appreciate your thorough concern." I nod, holding out my hand. The instructions are clear. I stare for a moment, but he's not doing anything.

"Are ye going to transform or..?"

He frowns. "I was hoping you'd look away."

Oh. I didn't consider transforming to be embarrassing to a vampire.

"Right, I apologize." I turn my head and close my eyes, but I keep my hand out. It's all quiet for a moment or two, and then I feel it.

There's a small amount of weight on my hand, and it's furry.

Opening my eyes I look down and see a small bat looking up at me. It's possibly the cutest thing I have laid eyes on, the small claws wrapped around my fingers for support. Its little eyes are staring up at me, ears swiveling around and listening.

I can't fight the urge to bring my other hand up, pointer finger out, brushing the soft back of the animal.

It's incredible. Rough fur, but it's pleasant all the same. The tiny bat makes a small noise though, and I see that as a snarky remark from the vampire. I should've asked his permission to pet him, but he's too adorable like this.

"Sorry, ye'r just too cute." I whisper sweetly, but the bat doesn't seem very impressed, if they can even look impressed. It makes the same noise and clings to my hand, moving down it slightly. "Ah-ah, I got it."

I bring my hand up to my chest, pulling the flap back again. The little bat crawls off my hand and onto my clothing, little claws digging into the fabric. The little nails dig somewhat into my skin, but it's too much of a small pain to be angry about. I let the flap go, and the bat is covered up.

"Hang on tight, laddie." I get a teeny muffled squeak back.

I make sure to not walk too fast out of the church, making sure to lock the doors behind me. Thankfully my house isn't too far from the church, Father John made sure his students' needs were met and what not. The sky is a deep purple, orange and pink, truly beautiful. I feel bad that the vampire doesn't get to see the Earth's beauty such as a sunrise. I'll be sure to find a way.

I tried to keep a small conversation with the tiny bat, even if it was one-sided. I told him about how pretty it was outside, thinking maybe it would help the walk be less boring.

"Lots of warm colors. Sunrises are always very pretty." I spoke softly, keeping a hand on the front of my chest to make sure the flaps of my uniform don't open and harm the bat. "I'm sure one day I'll get ye to see it."

I could've been imagining things, but I swear I felt the bat snuggle closer against my body. It makes me feel.. warm, happy, all inside my body. It feels good.

—--

I fumble with my keys slightly before opening the door. The door creaks slightly. I need to fix those hinges.

"Alright, we're home." Tossing my keys on a table next to the door I close it behind myself. I don't get a peep from the bat.

I open my flap to see if it's okay, the lack of response a little worrying. But, I'm relieved to see the small creature's eyes closed, face pressed into my shirt.

I waste no time getting to my bedroom, the only one in the house. Closing the blinds and shutting off any lights in the room I sit down on my bed. The bat needs to get off me, but I'll feel horrible to wake it up.

My hand goes to the small bat, touching it again. Still soft.

"Hey, I need ye to wake up." I pet it again, feeling the small furry cheeks. That does it, the little creature opens its eyes, turning to look at me. "C'mere."

It listens, moving to my hand. I move my hand to my pillow. The small bat crawls off my hand onto my pillow, getting situated again.

"That's better," I sigh and smile. I grab a blanket and lay it out on the bed, tugging it slightly up to gently cover the bat up. It seems scared or confused of the blanket, squeaking at me and moving away. "Hey, it's okay. It'll keep ye warm."

It stops trying to get away, beady eyes looking up at me. I pull the blanket over the small thing, covering its body.

I'm relieved to see as it seems to relax, little hands adjusting to hold onto the pillow more, closer to its body like it's getting comfortable. After a few seconds, it's eyes close, ears twitching a little more before they still.

I can't help but smile, and I have to bite my hand to repress a loud squeal fighting in the back of my throat. I didn't know how the vampire could be any cuter, but seeing him as a little bat tucked in on my pillow is definitely one way.

#not proof reading this so hate past me for it

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animehouse-moe · 11 months

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Heavenly Delusion Episode 11: New Territory

It's with this episode that we finally surpass the official print release of Denpa for Heavenly Delusion, and cruise into new territory with the anime for English fans. It surprised me, but I can totally see what they're going for with how they're restructuring events, and I think it works amazingly. The feel of terror and discomfort is really on display with this episode.

Though we don't start with that right away. We actually get a bit with the academy before the opening, and I'd just like to point out that in this scene you can see a new child with similar ears to Mimihime. Nothing special, but it puts into perspective that the mutations amongst students are similar in some cases.

Anyways, the opening comes and goes, and we return to following Kiruko and Maru as they continue their journey towards the goal of Heaven. I wouldn't say there's anything special about their drive, as it's a lot of work that we've already seen, so I'll just glance over it to this scene with the director to draw the pair together.

So I think the very first thing to note here is that everybody is reaching for "Heaven", but for different reasons. Maru's goal is to reach Heaven, while the Director's is to achieve. Similarly, the director does so for self serving purposes, while Maru has been set on the path towards it. Overall, I find it very interesting how this scene sets the two characters at odds.

Also, for those curious, the portrait behind the Director is of Izanami and Izanagi, effectively the heads of the Shinto religion that preside over life and death. It's really cool seeing an anime lean into that side of mythology and religion rather than to default towards something else. Anyways, the point of this being, that by placing Izanami and Izanagi behind the Director, they're effectively telling readers and viewers that the Director wishes to preside over life and death itself (if that wasn't clear already).

Moving past the Director's monologue that explains Takarahara Academy a little bit, I really like what they've been doing with Sawatari to start off with Tokio and Kona's child. In all of the scenes we have of Sawatari looking over it, we have yet to see Sawatari's reaction to it.

Though shortly after this, our time is up with the academy for now as we move back to Kiruko and Maru. I've been really liking how well they streamline a lot of these events, as they cut and (most of the time) paste pieces in different spots, trimming the fat in the process. I wouldn't say there's much of anything wrong with the manga, but that the anime is repurposing this story to be presented properly in its best form as an anime. Anyways, the point I was getting to, I really love the framing with these window shots. Even better is that in the shot where Maru sees the smoke, viewers aren't shown it until it can be placed naturally in the scene. It's a small detail, but it works wonderfully with Hirotaka's direction of the series.

And it's here that we get our massive reveal. The Ibaraki facility, and Inazaki Robin. I never really thought about it before, but Inazaki and Ibaraki have a bit of a ring to it. Same with Inazaki and Izanami/Izanagi. Doubt there's much of a connection, but just something that caught my attention. Anyways, what's more concrete and interesting, is how gaunt Robin looks in this scene. It really makes you wonder about what's changed with him until this point.

We don't linger long on Robin or Inazaki though, as we return to the academy to find Mimihime trying to help out another girl. I'll be straight, when this happened in the manga I thought it was for real and a part of the whole bodysnatcher scheme somehow. And that feeling translates incredibly well into the anime. The terror, the fear, the horror of those precision tools meant to tear her apart slowly encroaching on her. It's incredibly well done, and I love what they add to it. That piece of all the flashes of equipment and stuff is new to the anime, and I think it's an insanely good touch that shows how Mimihime's foresight becomes a detriment to her and something that she fears. What's happened in the future that she's seen haunts in her the present and creates phobias from thin air.

And just to add, because it comes up later as well. The sound design and OST? Impeccable in these moments. That rising tension, the rhythm that it produces with that very low and solid drumming. How it pauses and when it speeds up, the relentless pressure that it provides upon the scene. Just all around great work.

Did you think Mimihime had enough with just that one round? Of course not! She's forced back into more when she meets Kona on the other side of her curtain. I really like how they've used Mimihime's character so far, and pulling from volume 6 to bring moments like this closer together with one another is a great idea for the anime. The added pieces from Mimihime's earlier hallucination go hand in hand in her foresight that reveals Kona as a Hiruko.

I also love the details here. Mimihime is looking away from Kona/the Hiruko, and Kona's Hiruko version starts to loom closer to her so she shies away just that little bit more.

Anyways, it's not all terrible for Mimihime, even if she has to experience that hallucination once more, because she does it in the name of the young girl who can't be friends with anyone because of her ability. I do find it quite interesting though how they set it up between the person that's used to having hallucinations, and the one that causes hallucinations.

Alright, just a few more pieces, I promise I'll fly through em to make this one short since I drew the previous episode out so much. Aoshima and Sawatari are working together to plan to get Tokio's child away from the Academy, and I like how they stand on opposite sides of the painting. It could be that rather than reign over both, they each represent a side between Izanami and Izanagi. Or it could be that they both exist outside the director's desire for a Heaven. Regardless of that, I find it really interesting that it's only in this one scene that we see Sawatari taking care of Tokio's child that we see their facial expression and hear them talk to them. Especially because they go through the trouble of showing us that they've fed both the babies that appear in this scene.

And I find this really interesting. One is labelled Tokio Jr, while the other is labelled Jr. C. The very first thing that popped into my mind was that one of the two babies is to be used to swap out for Tokio's child when Sawatari and Aoshima attempt to get it outside of the academy, but I'm not too sure.

Now, the last real piece to talk about is the "test" being undergone at Takahara Academy. The up and mention the word Hiruko to the kids, and that sets all of them off. Not freaking out or having some crazy realization, but in a more, "I don't feel right and this doesn't feel right" way. I already talked about how good the horror is, but what about the foreshadowing? When they mention the word Hiruko, the characters we know of are only ever shown in pairs. And thanks to Mimihime, we're able to establish a pattern. We know from Mimihime that Kona becomes a Hiruko (though he's not shown with Tokio, and Tokio's only shown at mention of "outside of the outside"), and we know from previous episodes that Mimihime will turn into a Hiruko. So what do you think of Taka and Anzu being shown together? Probably the same thing I am, that one of the two of them will turn into a Hiruko. I think it's a really subtle piece, but an incredibly interesting and important one. Why does only one person in these pairs turn into a Hiruko? Why is it that these pairs only form romantically? What about Tarao?

This episode works wonders on all fronts, shifting material around and condensing it to play right into the horror and discomfort of an unavoidable future. Just as those countless tools closed in on Mimihime in her hallucination, the walls are closing in on these children, time is running short for Sawatari and Aoshima, and Kiruko and Maru close in on their goals. It's incredibly well organized for translating this impressive story from manga to anime, and I absolutely can't wait to see what they do with the next episode.

#heavenly delusion #tengoku daimakyou #天国大魔境 #production i.g #mori hirotaka #kiruko #maru #anime recommendation #anime review #horror anime #anime and manga #anime

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jojoturnip · 1 month

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A response to a mother at war, the poem of a friend:

You think of things so cosmically, don't you? I'm not surprised. I've seen your poetry of angels and your notebooks brimming over with theories of the world to compile into your games and campaigns.

There is no problem with that. Maybe that's a part of why I'm drawn to you and others who do the same. I like deep thinkers. I'd like to consider myself one.

There's nothing wrong with having your head in the clouds but don't forget you stand on earth.

I've been asked to hold a science writing workshop for another university's students who want to put science on the ballot (go them!!), so I've been thinking of some of my best writing advice. One piece I think of constantly when I write I found a long time ago scrolling through Pinterest:

"Don't write about the Holocaust. Write about the pair of children's shoes left behind in the street as they were taken away."

That one resonates with me a lot. Maybe it's the Jewish fear. I think it's more than that, though.

I, too, have been torn apart and eaten by the cosmos. I was punctured by the points of stars that promised to light the way. I have known and loved the darkness of man, the darkness of voids. I saw the big picture before I knew what it was.

It isn't pretty. Stepping back and looking at the timeline of my life, it isn't pretty.

Come look closer with me, though. Do you see that smudge? That's where my sister and I used to spray men's shaving cream at each other in the backyard when it was too hot to play like normal in the desert. Oh wait, no, look at this one, it's me hanging up my first houseplant, a rabbit footed fern. Does this one of me playing Minecraft with my cousin even look like me anymore?

No, no, this one you should see. You'll remember it. I had invited my sister, my roommates, my creative writing friends, and you all to the award ceremony for my literary award. You came with me, no one else did. Did you see how close to crying I am? Not from sadness even, just joy that you were there and supported me even though you didn't understand and it wasn't your thing. You were just there.

Don't think me stupid for finding that joy, my friend. The connections of the universe may be hard to conceptualize, but the constellations look nice. Did you hear we're supposed to be able to see the Aurora tonight?

Stepping back, I see all the pain and suffering that you do. And it's true that it overpowers the rest. But isn't it lonely up there? Only seeing the big picture and none of the details that make it worth painting?

I'm no artist. Or ethics professor. I'm not the one to tell you what's right and what isn't.

I study life. Both in botany and in writing. And I'm convinced, even after all the ugly I have pulled my rubber boots up from to stay afloat, that life is beautiful.

My bus driver always waves to other bus drivers we pass. But, when we come across a bus on the same route going the opposite direction, I see the flash of toothy smiles and special waves and salutes, like secret best-friend handshakes. My coworker dug a digital camera out of someone else's trash so I could use it to take pictures of my niece. The girl I complimented in the coffee shop today on her leather jacket beamed and told me how she was pretending it was warmer than it really was.

One of my favorite quotes comes from a source almost as odd as Pinterest, Norman Borlaug's biography. He's the father of the green revolution, and credited with saving more lives than any other person. I read it as a Borlaug Scholar in high school, and it was mostly dry. But he talked about his grandfather a bit, who said,

"Don't look for God in the sky. Look for him in the ground. That's where things grow."

Some of the tulips in the horticulture garden are planted above a hot water pipe, and the soil is warm enough for them to bloom early. They always come up short and have purple anthocyanin stress marks on their leaves, but people stop by to see the early flowers anyway.

I understand where you are, up in the universe, seemingly above it all but feeling swallowed by the vacuum. There's a beauty in that, too, in having a mind that can untangle dark matter. So I'm not here to change you.

But I also know your feet are as gravity-striken as mine. Welcome to Earth, my friend, come dig in the dirt with me. We can find earthworms and seeds and a thousand lives too small for us to see. It does not take away from the big picture, or the acknowledgement of your pain to pay them notice.

I brought you an extra trowel, but I cannot help you find god or hope or love or whatever it is people dig for. You have to want it. Then you have to dig for it.

I'm just digging next to you.

#clinging to nothing but what gravity forces me to #and to my emotional support water bottles #my writing

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positivelybeastly · 3 months

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"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh, unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . .

Blood.

A clatter, a turn of a stomach. And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

[At the risk of tossing in the entire post, I will just include this portion. Amazing. Spectacular. Incredible.]

You do me entirely too much credit, friend. 🩵

So, this was something I've been wanting to write for a while now - the creation of Dark Beast, so many years ago in the Age of Apocalypse - and it's mostly because we have no idea what his early life was actually like. We can guess a bit, based on what we know about 616 Hank and how his early life went, but the Age of Apocalypse is a goddamn nuclear mutant supremacist nightmare, so we have to assume things went very differently.

When you start to fill in the holes in a character's history, you generally - or, well, I do, anyway - look at what you know about that character and then extrapolate backwards, and something that's always struck me about Dark Beast is his relationship with fear.

He clearly loves to instil it in others, clearly revels in being a figure of horror and power, but this isn't something you really see in Hank, he does exactly the opposite, he minimises, he clowns, he dresses and accessorises to make himself seem less threatening.

In Hank's case, that's a reaction to people seeing him as a threat, despite what he has to offer. Even when he looks human, he's afraid of being recognised as a mutant, and kinda rightly so - the instant he displays his talents, someone tries to take advantage of him, his parents get a little freaked out, and his life crumbles. But that's in a society that values normalcy, that values the human baseline.

So what does that look like in a society that values the 'abnormal,' that values mutant power? Suddenly, Dark Beast is, at least to start with, weak. He's fleshy, he's human looking, he just has big hands and feet, he's barely a mutant in the visual sense - and the only valuable thing about him is his brain, which is where Sinister comes in.

In the comics, they have an odd relationship - not quite peers, not quite enemies, not quite rivals, something all mixed up and strange, and I've always interpreted it as vaguely parental, or, at least, as parental as it gets with someone like Sinister. But he's also clearly afraid of Sinister. The entire reason he swapped places with Hank in the 90s was because he wanted to hide in plain sight, from a "very powerful man."

So, we can assume a mentor-student relationship that was - not kind. We also know that Dark Beast doesn't really know his family, since he doesn't recognise his grandmother's name in the issue where he nearly kills Hank's parents, so we have to assume he was taken young. Now, this upbringing can't have been fun by any measure, but Sinister isn't the type to just start beating and abusing a kid with obvious incredible mental gifts, so he has to be - gentle. By his standards, anyway.

Which means . . . well, there's no real way around it, grooming. I don't think in a sexual manner, but to try and mould a young Dark Beast into a worthy pupil, absolutely. Look, all the books you could want to read, a safe place in this hellish environment, freedom to do as you wish - by comparison, he has it good. And even if I doubt there was any real warmth there, it's easy to imagine Dark Beast feels indebted. A degree of attachment to the only caretaker he's ever really known. A need to impress, which is something that 616 Hank feels very often as well, a need for validation, which is so easily manipulated.

So, you have all of this incredible mental pressure being applied to this young kid, and he's trying so hard to perform.

"There was a momentary wobble of a finger, a halting breath - before the scalpel moved, the gleaming stainless steel tip pressing to warm, unmoving flesh"

In this little opening, you don't get Henry's name in narration, it's just his actions. He wobbles, he breathes heavy, the scalpel moves as if on its own, and it's partly because he's trying to remove himself from this equation, trying to separate his consciousness from what he's actually doing, but it's also because Sinister is sucking the air out of the room and exerting his control over his protege. There is no autonomy here, there is no Sinister and his student, it's just Sinister and the extension of his will. There's just fear, and tension, and disappointment, and a child being forced to hurt someone because it's what his caretaker expects of him.

"unzipping the thin layer of - in front of the - that covered the, sternum, that . . ."

This is Henry trying desperately to keep this clinical, but I think that there's still too much warmth in him to keep that straight, so he keeps fumbling, like a kid being put on the spot in a classroom and trying to find the right page in the book that'll get him out of trouble. He can't detach himself, it's still his fingers hurting someone.

There's a reason you do so much training to be a surgeon, you have to learn so much about adopting the proper mental state and schooling your emotions, but with Sinister? No. You do it when I tell you to do it, and if you feel anything about it, then that's your personal failing. That's the weak, human part of you that our society despises.

"Blood. A clatter, a turn of a stomach.""

It's one thing to start cutting, it's another to see someone bleeding. We don't even know how much there was, how much Henry's actually cut, but it's enough that it's all he can focus on, that little bloom around the scalpel tip means that this is real. This isn't a medical textbook, this isn't a cadaver, this is someone who is still alive and that is -

He can't stand it.

I also like creating a mental soundscape and letting the reader's brain fill in the blanks - it's fine but a tad boring to just write that he dropped the scalpel and he feels sick. But if there's a clatter, you, the reader, know exactly what happened, except now you've heard the sound in your head, you've put yourself just a little bit in Henry's shoes, even if you're only hearing what he's hearing. Especially in introspective pieces like this, it's really important to try and foster a connection between the reader and the character.

"And then warm, pale fingers on the back of his neck, and Henry went stiff, feeling the familiar touch of his - mentor's hand on the so very human looking flesh of his neck."

Something I love to play around with is very exacting use of bold and italics. I find it creates a good sense of cadence and rhythm, and denotes an easy signifier of something being important and worth dwelling on - it draws the eye, so you focus on it. You ask, why that word, and especially depending on what you surround it with, it can denote such passion and warmth, or cold, lip curled disgust.

This is probably the most basic literary technique ever, but it's still important because you want to start layering in your themes as early as possible, and while the degree to which this society hates human appearances will become much clearer later, the sooner it becomes apparent that it's significant, the better. You need to understand what would drive Dark Beast to, in a way, mutilate himself with his forced mutation - what drives him to such self-hatred of his body that he changes it completely?

(I'll also confess, I lifted some dialogue from the comic where Hank changes himself into the Beast for this fic, but altered it to fit Dark Beast instead. Instead of ego, it's fear. And I stole the unique narration because I just love the way this issue plays out and the way the story is told, the way that it frames Hank as this dumb kid making a mistake that might ruin his life forever. It felt appropriate.)

I also like to play with dashes in sentences. You can create such a sense of a mental lurch, of a pause to consider your thoughts, a sense of pregnancy and choosing your words carefully. It allows you to align what seems to just be narration from an omniscient writer, i.e. me, with the character. Suddenly, it's not me writing about Sinister's hand around Henry's neck, suddenly the narration has naturalistically become Henry's, coloured by his thoughts and feelings and emotions.

So, yeah! That's my commentary! Hope you enjoyed it!

#silverjetsystm #commentary meme #outofmuffins #Thank you for sending this in!!!

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