Thinking about big brother Slider hours

In this wingfic his avian instinct manifests as a flock instinct, which means he just wants to adopt as many little brothers as possible

At the moment the list only includes Ice but he’s in constant danger at all times of accepting new adoption paperwork

Arlaen and the Raven Queen, making a choice

It has been a whole entire week since I posted my previous set of recs and guess who is still hip deep in BATFAMILY fic and really wants to cry about feelings about all the Bats and Birds, but most especially my beloved Dick Grayson? I enjoy fic of all the characters, there should hopefully be something for most fans here, I eventually spread my wings a bit (ha ha) through the fandom, but absolutely I feel I should warn you all that I play favorites and I’m not subtle about it. In my defense he’s really annoying in the most delightful way, how could I not love him the most? So, here, have week #2’s recs where I dump 60+ more fics on you because this fandom is on fucking fire with how good it is and how much I love everyone here. God bless fic writers, you are all doing the lord’s work of giving me three novels worth a week to read and knocking it out of the park while you do it. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ The Painful Truth by RascalJoy (DarkQuill), dick & bruce & wally & artemis & m'gann & conner & dinah, 6.2k      In a mission gone wrong, Robin finds himself being forcefully interrogated under…influence. “Now, you’re probably wondering why we haven’t just yanked your mask off and been done with this whole thing, hmm? It’s because this way is so much more fun.” ✦ a home not yet a home by Mayarenerose, dick & bruce, 1.1k      Dick just likes climbing to the roof sometimes. He doesn’t mean anything by it. He doesn’t. He just needs to be high up sometimes. He likes looking at the stars. Stars are hard to come by in the city and you need to be high up to even see them properly. ✦ Friends That Say (You’re Not Alone) by ProsperDemeter, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 3.5k      Richard. The kid. Richard Grayson. Clark didn’t feel ready to meet the child that Bruce took in. What if he was a mini-Bruce? What in the world would Clark do then? ✦ Taking Flight: A Tragicomedy in Four Acts by WingFeathers, dick & bruce & alfred & clark, 48.7k      John and Mary Grayson die; Dick becomes Robin. This is everything that happens in between, a/k/a, how Gotham City ripped one family and identity from Dick and gave him another. An origin story in the Rebirth spirit, weaving together threads from Tec #40, Dark Victory, Robin: Year One, New 52, and more. ✦ Motion Sickness by Arwriter, dick & bruce & cast, 4.2k      A routine patrol is interrupted when Robin realizes he’s being followed. There’s no attack, no ambush, no weapons drawn. Dick doesn’t understand what this man wants, or why his gentle touch hurts so bad. But Batman seems to know, and Dick just wants someone to tell him what he did wrong. ✦ do as I say (not as I do) by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce, 1.1k      “Don’t be mad.” Bruce has been raising Dick long enough to know that that sentence never bodes well. Especially when it’s the first thing to pop out of the twelve-year-old’s mouth when Bruce answers the phone. ✦ Burn Rubber by HoodEx, dick & bruce & roy, 3.5k      Roy couldn’t help but feel out of place like his presence was keeping Bruce from acting like himself. Whatever “himself” looked like. Bruce had always been a bit of a cold asshole anytime Roy had been around him. Even when Bruce talked to Dick, there was a barrier there that made their conversations seem strictly business. Some part of Roy had always wondered if Bruce was the same way with Dick at home. For Dick’s sake, he sure hoped not. OR the one where Roy gets to see Bruce act like a dad. Also, there are cars. Lots of cars. ✦ Surprise, You’re Adopted by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce, 1.8k      Dick gets kidnapped. Bruce gets worried. Things turn out alright in the end, though. ✦ without you i am surely the last of my kind by nosecoffee, dick & bruce & clark & j'onn, 6.6k      (Bruce Wayne also knows how it feels to be a scared little boy who just watched his parents die, telepathic mind meddling aside, and has had his eyes fixed on Dick Grayson since his parents fell, so of course he’s going to get him. It’s all he can do.) (Or, Dick Grayson is a traumatised alien empath with bad timing, and Bruce Wayne still needs to learn how to verbalise his emotions.) ✦ The Bone Road by scpnightwing, dick & bruce & alfred, 63.8k wip      By night, Robin was his partner in crime, but once the sun rose, all Dick could be was a mirror of his tragedy, haunting his halls and asking for more than Bruce had in him to give. (The early days of Batman and Robin, and the many mistakes therein) BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ The Shape Of You (Was Jagged And Weak) by WinterSky101, dick & bruce & jason & tim & slade & cast, 40.6k      Six months ago, Nightwing died. They never found the body. Last week, Deathstroke arrived in Gotham. He brought a partner with him. ✦ We Were Built to Fall Apart by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & tim, 1.2k      Dick is hurt, tired, and ready to let go. Bruce doesn’t seem to be ready to let him. ✦ It’s a Wonderful Earth-218 by BeatriceEagle, dick & bruce & past dick/babs & cast, 7.4k      As Blüdhaven burns, Dick makes a wish that he’d never been born. He wakes up in a world where that’s true, being followed around by a supervillain who just really wants to get back to taking over the world. ✦ the higher fidelity by birdsofthesoul, dick & bruce & damian, 3.6k      Bruce goes sheet-white, looking like Dick’s just cut him to the quick, and Dick can’t help but think they should have booked a flight, discretion be damned. This — this is why they don’t do road trips. Cars are like confessionals, cramped spaces built for coercing confessions, and neither of them are good with words. ✦ Theory of Relativity by CamsthiSky, dick & bruce & jason & cast, de-aged!dick, 2.2k wip      In which Dick Grayson gets de-aged and everybody freaks out ✦ hold the fort (for i am coming) by deargalileo, dick & bruce & jason & tim & duke, de-aged!dick, 3.6k      Jason’s jaw dropped. The tiny human child toddled in front of him, gripping at his pant legs. Automatically, he bent his knees slightly. The child lost its grip, and fell flat onto its ass. They both froze. The child’s mouth opened and closed soundlessly. “No no no, don’t cry,” Jason rushed out. He leaned down and scooped the child into his arms. “Don’t cry, okay?” The child grabbed onto his shoulder as Jason settled it (him?) onto his upper hip. Big, blue eyes blinked up at him, shining with unshed tears. When the fuck did B have the time to adopt a new kid? ✦ There’s Always Another One by lapsedpacifist, dick & hal (& bruce), 2.5k      After Bruce kicked Dick out, there was a very particular place Dick decided to visit. Well, visit, hide in, it was all one and the same. He could do it without Bruce! Just a shame Hal was finished with his assignment a week earlier than anticipated. ✦ The True Sons of Batman by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & damian & jason & talia & cast, 10.8k      What if Dick Grayson was Bruce Wayne’s biological son? ✦ Hey! He Attempted a Coup! by PandasandDucks13, dick & bruce & clark & justice league & zod, 3.1k      What if Dick Grayson was a Kryptonian? ✦ Unsteady by 60sec400, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cast, 14.8k      Nightwing is 22 when he’s hit by, well, something. They haven’t actually figured that out yet. But now he’s ten years old and a child and Damian struggles to see the man who he had looked to as a father forget who he ever was. De-aged fic. AU. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Mirage (What I See In You) by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & damian, 3.4k      Grayson’s gaze flicks upwards to meet his, and suddenly his expression softens. He smiles. “It’s okay,” he says, the movement of his lips clear even if his voice sounds like it’s coming through a broken radio. Suddenly, he’s pressing a rebreather to Damian’s face. His own rebreather, whole and unbroken. ✦ The Dog Days Are Done by fishfingersandjellybabies, dick & damian & cast, 3k      Dick is a good guy. He is. He knows that. Just like he knows that bribing your wayward, animal-loving, emotionally-traumatized brother to come see you with a puppy is exactly what all good guys do. That was a fact. ✦ To the Moon by theLiterator, dick & damian, 9k      A newly resurrected Damian Wayne does not believe Dick Grayson is dead. Spyral has been quietly helping to deal with the aftermath of Leviathan’s reign of terror and is wary of clones. Dick Grayson does not believe Damian Wayne is alive. (Together they fight crime, but’s always been true, hasn’t it?) ✦ Redemption Lies Plainly in Truth by SilverSkiesAtMidnight, dick & damian, 6.2k      Damian tries to pull his wrist out of his grasp. Any other time, Dick would let him go without hesitation, always careful to make sure his personal space is respected. This time, he catches his other wrist as well, gentle but firm as he crouches down to make eye contact. “Hey,” he says, smiling gently. “Do you trust me?” ✦ whether you’re high or low by Anonymous, dick & damian & jason, 1.9k      Dick’s first visit back to Gotham in a while ends with a shattered TV screen and more questions than answers for Damian and Jason. ✦ wrap myself in a thin sheet of ice by emavee, dick & damian, 3.3k      Damian falls victim to a witch’s curse, giving him a week to live before his heart turns to ice. There is a cure, but there’s no way someone like Damian would ever receive a kiss of true love. ✦ as love carries its strength, but not its labels by AlterHarpia, dick & damian, 2.7k      Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I’m not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ Say Uncle by Megaerakles, tim & jason & bruce & dick & steph & cast, 46.3k      Tim is prepared to take the steps necessary to ensure that Bruce will not feel obligated to adopt Tim when a comatose Jack Drake inevitably dies. But what could be better than preventing Bruce from ending up with a son he doesn’t want? Bringing back the one he does. Jason agrees to the Replacement’s stupid, stupid plan to invite some strange adult man he’s never met to come live with him, if only to keep the idiot alive long enough for him to serve his purpose in the Great Red Hood Revenge Scheme. Might this new roommate situation have an impact on either of their worldviews? Surely not… ✦ Ain’t No Compass, Ain’t No Map by ebjameston, tim & jason & dick & cast, outsider pov, 51.8k      A CPS agent gets sent to investigate a tip that Tim Drake has been abandoned by his parents and is living with the Red Hood. The CPS agent leaves with no Tim Drake, a date with Red Hood’s lieutenant, and an intern who’s promising to fix the IT systems at his office. It’s a weird day for Theo. ✦ The Longer You Stay by emiv, bruce/selina & dick & jason & tim, 64.3k      Bruce Wayne was never meant to be part of Selina’s clean slate. Then again, neither were a circus boy, a street rat or a rich kid. For a girl who didn’t like strings, Selina found herself getting attached. ✦ Falling, Catching by Freezer7, dick & jason/roy, 4k      The call comes in at two thirty-four am, on Dick’s first night off in three weeks. ✦ Piñata by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & steph & duke, 2.2k      “I found… something weird today.” “Weird how?” “I was checking out that half-destroyed apartment building today, and there was, like… papier-mâché everywhere? In Robin colors.” (Duke learns about an odd tradition between the Bats and the Rogues.) ✦ Five Times Dick Was Tim’s Safety Net and One Time Tim Was Dick’s by PrinceJakeFireCake, dick & tim, 5.2k      “Tim forced his gaze away from his phone, took a moment to breathe deeply, then tried to figure out the best way not to die anytime soon. For Bruce. For Alfred. For his friends. For Dick.” Dick has always been there for Tim, even before they knew each other. ✦ wet teeth, shining eyes, glimmering by a fire (who will i be tonight?) by lifetimeoflaughter, dick & jason & cast, 2.3k      They’re standing on a rooftop. It’s not very high up; only about ten floors, give or take. The moon isn’t out tonight. It’s dark. It’s too dark to tell if it’s blood that’s dripping from Jason’s gloved fists. ✦ smeared with oil (like david’s boy) by call_me_steve, bruce & dick & tim & damian, de-aged!damian, 2.1k      Dick’s leaning over the edge of the couch, watching a tired Bruce stare lovingly down at the baby cradled in his arms. The baby’s swaddled in soft green blankets, probably procured by Alfred at some point or another. It’s hard to believe that this is actually Damian- Damian, and his big, bright, brown eyes; his soft, baby hair; his pudgy cheeks and small fingers. Clear of a snarl and frown and, instead, reduced to soft babbles and the occasional giggle. In his chest, Dick’s heart flutters. He feels his breath stop for all of a moment- God, this kid already has him wrapped around his finger. “Can I hold him?” ✦ There in the Sudden Blackness by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & damian, 1.7k      Tim and Dick argue, and at the end, Tim’s not actually sure if either of them actually won. ✦ The Mechanics of a Hug by incogneat_oh, dick & tim & damian & bruce, 4.1k      “So,” Tim ventures. “It's… what, a cuddle pollen?” Bruce just shrugs. “Something like that.” ✦ Taking Care of Business by Nokomis, dick & tim, 1.7k      Tim (only somewhat reluctantly) accompanies Dick on an undercover mission at an Elvis convention. ✦ where were you when I was king in this part of town? by Cerusee, dick & jason & bruce, 4k      The teen sitting next to him had mostly polished off his pork noodles, and he was eyeing Nightwing’s. Nightwing handed them over without a word. “Why,” he said, more to himself than the kid, “why, oh, why do I feel like I know you?” Because you do, came the unbidden thought. ✦ head in the clouds by Alienu, dick & jason & tim & damian, 4.7k      “Hey,” Tim says out of the blue. “Has anyone ever noticed that Damian has, like, weirdly sharp canines?” Dick makes a face. “What?” he asks. Then seems to think about it a little more, and says, “Oh, I mean… kind of? I don’t really pay attention to his teeth.” He turns to Damian. “Robin, let me see your teeth.” The kid growls. “I’m not afraid to bite you, Nightwing.” “Furry,” Jason coughs. Damian throws a batarang at him. ✦ A little more heart and soul by ruesyblues, dick & jason & damian, 2k      What do you do when the brother you raised and loved and left now seems to be withdrawing and you want the best for him but you’re not sure if you did the right thing and oh fuck what if you made a mistake?? (Dick wants Damian to be happy. He just has no clue how to accomplish that.) ✦ To Reconcile by CasualDanger, dick & jason, 2.4k      “Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?” ✦ damian clone triplets!!! by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & damian, 2.1k      Bruce finds and rescues three baby Damian clones~!!! babies~!! ✦ fear toxin (◡‿◡✿) by drakefeathers, dick & bruce & jason & tim & cass & steph & damian & alfred, 3.6k      six drabbles about batkids crying and screaming after being dosed with scarecrow’s fear gas~ (⊙‿⊙✿) ✦ Two Birds, One Stone(d) by MichaBerry, tim(/kon) & bruce & dick & jason & alfred, 5.8k      After a drugs bust gone sideways, Tim is a very high little bird. Cue shenanigans and family bonding. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ Trust fall by Ididloveyou_once, tim/kon & damian/jon & dick & jason & bruce & cast, nsfw, 22.4k      Damian was… here. At Kent Farm. Dressed in the too-big Batman pajamas that Dick had bought him last Christmas as a joke. And- And- Tim was wearing Kon’s t-shirt and his hair was messy and his lips were swollen and- He wasn’t ready for this- He wasn’t- He couldn’t- BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Hard Truths and Other Realities by CKBookish, dick & bruce & jason & clark & wally & cast, 113.6k wip      Clark shifted his weight making the floorboards creak and groan under his feet. “Dick I hate to see you–” He paused searching for the right word. Dick snorted. “Wallow?” Clark sighed. “That’s not what I was going to say.” “I know. I can go to the barn and hang out there if I’m bothering you and Lois.” Dick pushed himself up. Of course he should have thought of that. Lois didn’t want some random teen laying around her home on Christmas Eve. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim, 5.2k      Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ The Robin Manual by lurkinglurkerwholurks, dick & bruce & damian, 2.3k      Bad days were nothing new. Most of the time, he could feel them coming the way a swimmer could feel the approach of something huge beneath the surface of the water. The pressure would start to build, tugging at him like undertow by the shore, and it was always a gamble to see how long he could tarry before the pull yanked him under. ✦ the world is ending and i’m still numb by Arwriter, dick & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & cass & stephanie & damian & barbara & duke & cast, rape aftermath/read the tags, 20.7k      She’s gone, and he’s home, but Dick doesn’t know how to move on. He isn’t alone, but that doesn’t mean he knows how to ask for help. ✦ Up High by CamsthiSky, dick & damian, ~1k      “Grayson, what are you doing up here?” Dick shrugs, a sad smile pulling at his lips. He’d stopped asking that when his feet first started to take him up here years ago. “I like the view.” ✦ here comes the rain again by pocketofsky, dick & jason & tim & damian, rape aftermath/read the tags, 14.1k      Dick doesn’t patrol when it rains. Not since Blüdhaven. And everyone knows that, but they don’t know why. Or: Dick slowly but surely confronts his trauma. Now featuring: a train, pain, and a lot of rain. ✦ Happy Little Bluebirds Fly Beyond the Rainbow (Why Oh Why Can’t I) by honeycombclaire, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass, 26.9k      After being subjected to the Mad Hatter’s dream machine, Dick gets stuck in a dream world where he finally has everything he wants. His parents are alive, his family is together, and he still gets to be Nightwing. Everything is perfect. Using the machine, the Bats invade Dick’s mind to bring him back. They don’t expect to find out just how much Dick has been hurting. ✦ Maybe, just maybe, he should call Bruce…Nah. by memearchive, dick & bruce & jason & tim, rape aftermath/read the tags, 5.8k      “Yeah, 34 deaths, 35 including Blockbuster, is a lot. Yeah, his home and everything he owns is gone. Yeah, his safehouses and everything in those are all ash, too. Yeah, yeah, yeah, he gets it- but he’s dealt with loss before, and maybe 34 is a bit high, and maybe he could have stopped Tarantula, but he’s never been like this before. Not even after his parents’ deaths, and that’s a terrifying thought. Was this really the thing that broke him?” ✦ right through my walls by wingdingery, dick & bruce & barbara & jason & alfred, 6.6k      Sure, yes, Bruce and Jason attacked Dick and left him injured—but they were under the effects of fear toxin, so it wasn’t really them. Dick’s gone enough rounds with fear toxin to understand that. He’s perfectly fine with what happened. Now if only the rest of the family would believe him. ✦ gray by iselsis, dick & bruce, 1k      Grief demands to be felt, but Dick doesn’t have to be alone. ✦ How Far Love Goes by BeatriceEagle, bruce & dick & jason & tim & cass & barbara, comics violence as child abuse/read the tags, 99.5k      Plenty of family reunions end in fighting. Not that many end in explosions. A mass Arkham breakout brings all of Bruce’s children home, and with them, all the drama, secrets, and anger they’ve been keeping for years. Amidst rising tensions and a mysterious new threat in Gotham, the family has to work together to round up the rogues—and confront their feelings about each other. BATFAM FIC RECS - THROW BABY DICK AT BATTISON, C'MON DO IT, IT’LL BE HILARIOUS: ✦ romanticize a quiet life by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.7k      it’s parent teacher conference day for battinson and his robin ✦ when i call you come home by lwbones123, dick & bruce & alfred & jim, 3.2k      ummm battinson and his robin and angst and hurt/comfort idk how to summarize this one so you just have to trust me ✦ Dark by Cant_Smoke_Eggs, dick & bruce & alfred, 1.9k      aka Baby Dickie thinks Bruce is a Vampire. Bruce thinks he’s figured out he’s Batman. Misunderstandings and Identity reveals ensue. ✦ Just Two Dads Having a Chat by red_jaebyrd, dick & bruce & clark & kon, 1.5k      “I’m not giving you an interview, Kent.” “You always say that, and I always tell you that I’m not here for an interview,” Kent laughed, not at all bothered by Bruce’s aloofness. “We’re just two dads at soccer practice having a chat.” ✦ I Don’t Think Like I Should by shipNslash, jim & barbara & dick & bruce & cast, 13.2k      Featuring unmasking vigilantes as a father-daughter bonding activity, awkward small talk between two dads (both at crime scenes and PTA meetings), and Babs and Dick’s natural progression from classmates to besties in the name of chaos. This is a direct sequel to I’m a Good Pretender but can be read as a stand alone.

Moth outfit pattern

Hello, here's the pattern for the moth outfit. This post includes the basic cape pattern, basic mask pattern, moth hair pattern, base tunic pattern and the moth shorts! If you make something using my patterns, i would love to see it! Simply send me an ask, or tag me in a post! Now, here's the pattern!

Basic cape pattern

(This pattern is used for every base cape in game)

Materials: Yarn in the color of the cape you want, white yarn (for the stars), a 2.5 mm crochet hook, scissors, and a needle.

-Chain 26, and double crochet in the third chain from the hook. Double crochet in every stitch (24)

-Chain 2, *1 increase, 3 dc, repeat from * (30)

-Chain 2, dc in every stitch. (30)

-Ch 2, *1 inc, 4 dc, repeat from * (36)

-Ch 2, dc in every stitch (36)

Now, i think you can see where this pattern is going. You will continue doing one row of increase, and one regular row for a total of 16 rows. When you're done, you should have 72 stitches.

-(row 17) Chain 2, dc 9, then do 5 more rows with 9 dc each. Chain one, and fasten off.

This forms one part of the cape. This is how we will achieve the "cuts" in the cape. After you've fastened off, attach your yarn again, in the 10th stitch of the 16th row, continuing that same pattern again.

You will make 6 of these, 3 on each side of the middle. In the middle you instead make one with 18 stitches instead of 9. Here is a little guide for you:

When you're done, you can take your needle and some white yarn, and sew/embroider star shapes on the back, like the ones in game. You can make your skykid have as many wing levels as you want, but i only made the base 5 for simplicity.

Now, for the last part of the cape, the thing that will keep the cape on the skykid. I simply made a long chain, sewed it into the first row of the cape, and tied it around the neck. As simple as that!

Now, onto our next pattern!

Basic mask pattern

Materials: Yarn in the colors of the mask, a 2.5mm crochet hook, scissors, and a needle.

-Make 6 single crochet into a magic circle. Tighten the circle.

-Ch 1, increase in every stitch around, sl st in first sc (12)

-Ch 1, *1 inc, 1 sc, rep from *, sl st in first sc (18)

-Ch 1, *1 inc, 2 sc, rep from *, sl st in first sc (24)

-Ch 1, *1 inc, 3 sc, rep from *, sl st in first sc (30)

-Ch 1, *1 inc, 4 sc, rep from *, sl st in first sc (36)

Now, Make 5 rows of regular single crochet, 36 stitches each. Chain one, and fasten off. This is the base pattern, simple as that! Now, you can sew details onto it, like eyes, patterns, etc to match the mask you're trying to make.

But now you say, how will i attach this to my skykid without having to sew it onto it, because i might want to make more masks, and change them! Well i'll tell you!

If you're like me, you don't like weaving in loose ends. It's boring and takes a lot of time. Well don't you worry cause you won't have to do that! (for some at least, don't leave all your ends loose please) If you haven't weaved it in yet, you should have a thread of yarn in the middle of the back of your mask. This thread is very important. To attach the mask, you'll have to take your crochet hook, put it through the head in some way, making it come out of the middle of the face. Grab the thread with your hook, and pull it through the face.

It's a tedious process, and probably not the most practical way to do this, but hey, it works! It keeps the mask on the face fairly well, unless you're making your skykid headbang with all the energy in their tiny body. If you need to, you can attach more threads to the mask to secure it even more.

Moth hair pattern

Materials: White yarn, blue yarn, brown yarn, a 2.5 mm crochet hook, scissors, a needle, and you might end up needing an iron, to flatten the hair.

The hair can be split up in 5 parts. we will make on at a time.

1- the base (will be used to keep the hair better stuck on your skykids head)

This is a very simple pattern, and actually identical to the mask pattern. So technically you can just go look at that again.

2- The hair strands

-Ch 56, and single crochet in the second chain from the hook. Do 20 single crochet in total. Slip stitch in the next stitch. And chain 21. Single crochet in the second chain from the hook and make 20 in total. Slip stitch in the next stich of the base chain.

You will continue the pattern of chaining 21, making 20 single crochet, and slip stitching into the next chain of the base chain, until you've reached the end of the chain, and you should have 35 strands of hair in total.

When you're done, you might need to iron the hair strands, to match the in game look. Here's a guide for the next step, since i'm bad at explaining

3- The hair tuft

-Ch 2, sc one into first chain

-Ch 1, sc 2 into the same stitch.

-Ch 1, 2 sc

-Ch 1, 1 decrease

-Ch 1, 1 sc, ch 1, fasten off.

Sew this onto the top of the hair piece, somewhere in the middle.

4- The braid

This pattern is similar to the hair strands pattern, the only difference being that instead of 35 strands, we will only make 3. This means making a chain of 24, single crocheting 20, and slip stitching in the next chain, and making two more, so that you have 3 strands in total.

We will not braid it yet, because we need to make the last part first.

5- The hair tie

First, work with your blue yarn.

-Ch 10, sl st in first chain to make a circle

-Do 3 rows of sc, 10 stitches each. Chain one, and fasten off.

Now, take your brown yarn, and surface crochet around the first row and third row. And that's it!

6- The secret part (assembly)

Take the braid you've made, braid it, and pull it through the hair tie. Then, sew the braid onto the base piece (under the hair strands) and then you're done with the hair!

You attach it in the same way you attach the mask. I'd recommend one "fastening thread" in the front of the hair, and one in the back at least. add more if you need to.

Base tunic

Materials: White-ish yarn, a 2.5mm crochet hook, scissors, a needle.

This tunic will be used for every base outfit in the game, with the actual pants being a separate piece.

The tunic will also be separate pieces that are put together in the end.

1- Main piece(s)

-Ch 25, single crochet in every stitch (24)

-Make 18 rows of single crochet in total, with 24 stitches each

-Make 4 rows where you decrease in the beginning and end of every row. On the end of the 4th row you should have 18 stitches (if i've done the math correct)

-Make 9 rows of regular single crochet, with 18 stitches each.

-Ch 1, 3 sc, 1 dec

-Ch 1, 1 dec, 2sc, ch 1, fasten off.

-Attach your yarn on the last fourth stitch of the 31st row

-Ch 1, 1 dec, 3 sc

-Ch 1, 2 sc, 1 dec, ch 1, fasten off.

Now, make one more, so that you have 2.

2- Sleeves

-Ch 16, sc into every stitch (15)

-Make 26 rows of single crochet in total, with 15 stitches each.

Make 2 of these too.

3- Neck piece

-Ch 7, sc into every chain. (6)

-Make 50 rows of single crochet in total, with 6 stitches each

4- Assembly

Here, i've made a guide on how to assemble this. After that, you're done with the tunic!

Moth shorts

Materials: same yarn as the one you used for the tunic, a 2.5mm crochet hook, scissors.

-Ch 40, and sl st in the first chain to make a circle.

-Make 5 rows of regular single crochet, with 40 stitches each.

-Ch 1, 20 sc, sl st in the first sc.

-Attach the yarn again, and make another leg with 20 stitches. Both legs should have 5 rows each.

-Make 4 more rows of single crochet, with 20 stitches each. Fasten off.

And now you're done!

If you have any questions, or if anything was unclear, please do let me know how i can improve this. I am aware some parts may be oddly phrased but i hope you understood.

This is my first cosmetics pattern, please tell me if there's any cosmetics you'd like to see me make!

Here's the link to the body pattern/main post!

Tomas & Liu Kang

I’m trying to put things into right perspective about Smoke, Liu Kang’s approach to Tomas and how pushed into background he was during story mode so bear with me while I’m connecting dots.

Also, to be clear, I’m not here to morally judge the characters, just to talk about the dissonance between Smoke vs Liu Kang intro dialogues and the story mode.

For one, the pre-fight dialogues imply that Tomas lost his family due to Liu Kang (Keeper of Time)’s choice: 

Smoke: "Did you intend for me to be orphaned?" Liu Kang: "Some threads must be cut to weave time’s fabric." 

and

Smoke: "I'm not sure I can forgive you." Liu Kang: "Being Keeper of Time meant making many hard choices."

When Tomas was orphaned, Kuai Liang & Bi-Han’s father adopted him and made one of Lin Kuei. If the accusation is true, then we can assume Liu Kang wanted Tomas to join Lin Kuei, as he did in the past timeline(s). So, in theory, Smoke for whatever reason was important enough for the Keeper of Time to get involved and steer events to get the wanted result. 

Which raises a question, why did Liu Kang not bother to recruit Tomas into Lin Kuei the same way he recruited Kung Lao, Raiden, Johnny Cage or Kenshi, by like, actually talking to him and taking for training? Or even why not just ask the befriended Grandmaster to take the boy (and Tomas' family) under his wings, which I think the man would do without further question.

Instead, Smoke was orphaned, taken in by Lin Kuei, adopted as son of Grandmaster and trained in magic to equalize his chances in the fight (in contrast, Bi-Han’s ice powers seems to be a natural part of him, related to specific bloodline).

Now, if Tomas was so important, if not in the greater scheme of things, then just for Liu Kang (and Kuai Liang), isn’t it weird, he is so sidelined and omitted by Fire Lord in the story mode?

Again, not judging characters, solely pointing out this choice of storyline, as this is especially visible during collecting the champions for the tournament arc.

In Chapter One, when the test was over and Liu Kang came to Kung Lao and Raiden to explain things, he specifically called only Bi-Han (the current Grandmaster) and Kuai Liang (Bi-Han’s blood-brother)

while Tomas was totally omitted and stayed behind with the rest unnamed Lin Kuei warriors.

Which, visually speaking, is weird, as just before that scene we could see Smoke walking alongside his adoptive brothers (with Bi-Han leading the group, Tomas and Kuai Liang walking a bit behind their leader, but before the unnamed warriors);

In the next chapter, again, only Bi-Han and Kuai Liang assisted Fire Lord in his quest to recruit Johnny Cage and Kenshi. Again, both Lin Kuei were addressed by their birth names, instead of codenames

while there is no information why Tomas was left behind. He likely was entrusted with escorting Kung Lao and Raiden to Shaolin Monks, yet the lack of proper mention emphasizes the pushing into the background.

We didn't learn officially Smoke's status as adopted brother of Kuai Liang and Bi-Han until Sub-Zero's chapter (#8). Unless I miss something, the first person on screen to actually address Smoke by his birth name was surprisingly Bi-Han.

Which makes even weirder the lack of including of Tomas from Liu Kang, as the Fire Lord and Smoke stayed allies through the story mode and intro dialogues (with some resentment on Tomas' side for death of his family) while the relationship between Bi-Han and Tomas was much more complicated to begin with.

We could make an argument that Liu Kang didn't want to antagonize Bi-Han by including adopted Tomas too much, however:

A) Bi-Han has never denied Tomas right to consider himself one of Grandmaster's sons - seen especially in Sub-Zero's speech pattern, as Sub-Zero always says just "Father", the same as Tomas and Kuai Liang, never putting emphasis on "my" as a reminder Smoke is adopted. The real conflict is not about whether Tomas is his and Kuai Liang's brother or not, but about him being a true Lin Kuei. What is also worth to keep in mind, any tension between brothers happened only in privacy (here and during the mission), never around Liu Kang.

(A similar thing can be noticed in intro dialogues. In Smoke vs Sub-Zero, Bi-Han specifically says "Because your blood is not Lin Kuei" however in Liu Kang vs Sub-Zero, when Fire Lord claims brothers (plural version!) miss him, Bi-Han doesn't correct his opponent about Tomas not being one. He instead says "Then they shouldn't have disobeyed my commands.")

B) Liu Kang did not show Bi-Han any special respect, especially not the kind of respect and friendship offered to Sindel and her husband, Jerrod. And yes, Fire Lord mentioned Bi-Han before Kuai Liang, and addressed him during the meeting before the mission (while the Sub-Zero's younger brothers - subordinates - stood together in silence)

but that basically it? Bi-Han didn't seem to be favored in any special way, I don't think he even was addressed as Grandmaster by Fire Lord at any moment in story mode.

Which is why I personally don't see why Liu Kang would omit Tomas solely to not hurt Bi-Han's ego or to not antagonize the man further - especially since Bi-Han himself didn't push the matter in any specific - openly - way nor didn't deny Tomas the right to consider himself one of Grandmaster's sons in the first place.

Frankly, as we don't see how Lin Kuei were informed about the upcoming meeting, we should ask, did Liu Kang call Bi-Han and specifically Smoke and Scorpion for the mission, or was that choice made solely by Sub-Zero? Because Lin Kuei for sure must have much more experienced warriors that Tomas (and Kuai Liang for that matter) but also sending on dangerous mission the Grandmaster AND the second* in line of succession seems impractical from the perspective of clan' inner safety.

*second and third, if Tomas was allowed at all to be the heir. Considering how neither Smoke nor Scorpion even for a moment considered that option and how Sektor & Cyrax would choose Bi-Han's corruption of the clan before accepting Kuai Liang as a new leader, the inner clan politics may not be so simple.

During the Lin Kuei mission (Sub-Zero's Band of Brothers Chapter) and during Bi-Han's betrayal (Scorpion's Civil War Chapter), the three brothers didn't address each other by codenames and as much as the situation allowed, freely interacted with each other.

However once Bi-Han is removed from the story mode, Smoke is even more pushed into the background. When asked, he will answer and make some (one?) observation however he barely interacted with other characters, mainly sticking to his brother. The most important exception is the scene when the heroes were wondering what to do after the big revelation and Tomas on his own talked about Lin Kuei and Bi-Han.

The story mode at that time was focused on other characters (like Mileena & Shang Tsung) so understandably, Lin Kuei brothers were put aside however even then Scorpion played a vital part, as it was Kuai Liang making the plan of attack, when Liu Kang wasn't around, while Tomas for most part was just there.

Again, no moral judging of characters just a mere observation how Tomas interacted the most freely with his brothers while was omitted by Liu Kang - and like, never(?) addressed by him in story mode, either by name or codename, even if the intro dialogues strongly imply Liu Kang was the one pushing Tomas into Lin Kuei in the first place.

Which makes an interesting contrast to Bi-Han & Smoke’s relationship but also shows how without intro dialogues, the relationship between Tomas and Liu Kang seems… non existing? I mean, even at the end of story mode, Liu Kang mentions Bi-Han

and his brother Kuai Liang building a new clan,

yet there is literally no mention of Tomas and his participation in the creation of Shirai Ryu and training its members (something confirmed in Scorpion and Smoke's endings).

Which only add to the weird feeling of alienating Tomas in story mode, not by Bi-Han but Liu Kang of all possible people?

Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, Hogwarts AU)

Lucerys was no hat stall, it taking only five seconds before the word "Ravenclaw!" left the hat's "mouth". He still can't believe he was placed in Ravenclaw. He didn't feel smart at all! He also felt a bit disappointed, not being in the same house as his brother, a proper red and gold Gryffindor like almost every Targaryen, but seeing Jace cheer the loudest as he made his way to the blue and bronze table made him feel a bit better, at least, enough to ignore the fact that his table was next to that of Slytherin. He's particularly ignoring a certain green, one-eyed third year's glare, opting to sit farthest away, back facing the green and sliver table, not willing to acknowledge any of his uncles.

He was a bit startled when a cool finger poked the nape of his neck, but after turning around and seeing a certain fifth year Ravenclaw, he instantly relaxed. With Helaena by his side, his uncles would, at the very least, not try anything "funny".

"Hello, aunt." A real, albeit small, smile on his face as he greeted his aunt. He hadn't seen her in years, ever since the... incident.

She had seemed fine enough, more mature than she used to be. Her face lost most of the baby fat, her long white hair clipped with what looked to be a dragonfly hair clip, her uniform perfect, save for what Lucerys believes to be mud at the bottom, though it was a bit too dark to be sure, and a beetle necklace, though Lucerys was not sure what kind. She looked as dazed as Lucerys remembered her to be, as if she was in a different plane of existence, though when he greeted her, she seemed to somewhat return from wherever her mind took her to.

"Hello, dear nephew." She answered, her voice soft and dreamy, as she stared not at Lucerys, but at her hands. It was then that Lucerys noticed his aunt's source of wonder, a spider, weaving it's web around his aunt's fingers. "Congratulations, the thread of blue has been weaved into the tapestry, though amidst the red, black and green, it does seem to have no place in the image envisioned. Alas, only the weavers know of it's purpose."

He nodded awkwardly. Even now, he does not understand much of what his aunt would say. Being a dragon dreamer, she often speaks only in riddles, rarely does a straightforward sentence leave her lips. As a younger boy, he would often ignore her in favor of his uncles and brother, who were quick to let him join, as his face would be used to escape the punishment of whatever scheme Aegon concucted.

But things are different now. And he does need someone from his own house to guide him in the school. He can't always rely on Jace being there for him. It was time to stretch his own wings, but he needed to be cautious, and what safer person to be with than the sister of the very person he needs to be protected from? Thank Merlin he wasn't placed in Hufflepuff, otherwise he truly would have no one, and the likelihood of his body being found floating around the Great Lake before he gets to have his first breakfast in Hogwarts would be exceedingly high.

After everyone was sorted, the Headmaster, his grandfather, welcomed everyone warmly. Lucerys winced a bit, noticing the way his grandfather used the podium to keep him from falling. Fortunately, his speech was short, encouraging everyone to enjoy the feast prepared. He quickly returned to his seat at the head of the table, miraculously having the strength to keep him upright.

He did, in fact, enjoy the feast, particularly the lemon cakes placed right in front of him. It at least distracted him from the obvious whispers from different tables, and the still glaring eye of his uncle.

Once all the plates were cleared, instead of his father, there was Otto, the Headmaster's right hand man, telling everyone to enjoy their night's sleep, as their first day would start tomorrow.

Helaena, who turned out to be the Ravenclaw's prefect, stood beside her male counterpart, and led the first years to the Ravenclaw tower. It had so many stairs, and by the time they reached the entrance, most of the first years, Lucerys included, were tired, sweaty, and sleepy.

The male prefect told all of them that their door is different from the others. Instead of passwords, their door asks riddles. Get the answer right, and the door will open for you. It does not have a limit to how many guesses you make, but if you truly cannot answer, you would need to wait for someone else to answer it for you.

Lucerys hopes he truly was sorted in the right house, and secretly prays to all the gods that he wouldn't be one of the students stuck waiting outside for someone to help them get in. That would be embarrassing.

Once the male prefect answered the riddle, they were led to a beautifully furnished blue common room. There, Lucerys sees another familiar face. His grandmother, Rhaenys, in a high collared blue dress, looking as regal as ever, fitting perfectly with the regal decorations of the room. She was strict, but kind, introducing herself as Professor Velaryon, the head of Ravenclaw House. She then informed them that she would provide them the rules of the Ravenclaw Tower, when their brains can actually absorb her words. She greeted them a good night, before gesturing to them to go to their rooms. Lucerys felt her gaze on him a few times, though he doesn't know how she must feel to see him under her care once again. Helaena led the girls to their rooms, waving a quick goodbye to Lucerys as he followed the male prefect to his side.

When he finally laid on the bed, he felt the tears he held back come pouring out. It was stupid, he knows, but he can't help it. He misses Dragonstone, he misses his old room, his mother, his grandfather, Corlys, his brothers and step-sisters, and Arrax, his dragon, who sadly wasn't on the list of pets students were allowed to bring with them. He was never alone, always with a family member, or a servant, or a private maester.

Realizing that he was laying on an unfamiliar bed, with strangers in the same room must have made him conscious of how alone he now was. And he didn't like it at all. It made him conscious of how much he truly missed home.

He hoped his mother won't be too upset he was an eagle rather than a lion, though he knows she would just pat his cheek and tell him that her own mother was a Ravenclaw, and that they were all dragons at the end of the day (he knows this because she did say this when he asked what she would do if he didn't get sorted into Gryffindor). He knows his step-father, the Head of Griffyndor House, Daemon, would have felt a bit unhappy he wouldn't be under his care, like Jace, but would say something in the lines of, "better a bird than a snake". He knows his other grandfather, Corlys, would be proud, saying that blue fits him more, anyway. Again, he doesn't know how his grandmother felt, but he hopes there would be some part of her that was pleased he got into her house.

He tried to breath properly, hoping his roommates didn't hear his sniffling. He tried to think of something less sad, so he could stop.

He allowed his mind to wander. What would Jace be doing right now? Would he sit with Lucerys on the Ravenclaw table for a bit for breakfast? He hoped not, despite wanting to break his fast with him. He and Aegon would start fighting again, and there was a reason why Gryffindors and Slytherins were seated far away from each other. Mayhaps he could sit with the Gryffindor table instead? But wouldn't that look like rejecting his new house? No, better they eat separately. They could always see each other beyond the dining hall. What were Baela and Rhaena doing? Were they enjoying Beauxbatons? He hopes they were. He wonders if they entered Hogwarts, what would their houses be? Baela was definitely a Gryffindor, Rhaena would fit in Ravenclaw, more than he would, at least. Maybe Daemon and his grandmother would threaten the hat so he would place them under their care? It would be hilarious to watch if Baela would get sent to Slytherin. She would rage and Daemon would threaten to cut the hat in half with Dark Sister. His grandfather would have to sew the hat back together and beg for it's forgiveness. He hoped, though he knows it wouldn't really happen, that Rhaena would transfer to Hogwarts, maybe they could sneak in each other's room to read and tell stories, like they did in Dragonstone, but what would....

So on and on Lucerys thought happier thoughts until he finally slept. When he opened his eyes, he was determined to have a good first day.

A Jewel Is Born (Chapter 1)

Written for Asmodeus's Birthday 2023! Description: Asmodeus wasn't born as the Avatar of Lust. He hadn't always been one of Lucifer's brothers. He wasn't created to be one of the Seven Rulers of the Devildom. What he was created for, was beauty. That much has never changed. Can also be read on AO3 here!

Day 1 - Awakening

From the moment Asmodeus was born, he knew beauty. It was interwoven into every moment of his creation -- a destiny to be the most beautiful being that had ever lived and ever would.

The Jewel of the Heavens began as a pearl, lustrous and lovely, resting upon a bed of white silk in a jewelry box lined with glass -- mirrors within, with a clear view to the inside from beyond its walls. The entire case was illuminated by tiny stars that filled the space, their crystalline lights reflected infinitely in the glass to highlight the perfectly smooth sheen of the round pearl at its center.

And from this pearl, his Father drew out strands of glittering thread, weaving them through the stars into limbs, a torso, a face. All the shimmering flawless beauty of the gem made up every bit of his new angel's being. Fluttering robes came together over his form, white and purple, every star stitched into shining golden accents. A perfect doll, with the sweetest sherry-gold eyes fluttering back up at his creator.

A sparkling golden halo finished the creation, just the same as all his angels, and with that final touch, gave him life.

As the new angel's mind began to awaken, all around him were the mirrors of the box he lay in. In every direction, he saw himself -- the very concept of beauty given angelic form. Light bounced off his smooth skin, the iridescence of his origins still lingering upon his surface. A soft breath of wonder escaped him at the sight, and as he drew himself up to standing, the walls fell open around him like elegantly blooming petals of a great glass flower.

From farther beyond, he could see another angel standing beside a gateway, spear upright in hand and nodding politely to him. He registered the most beautiful parts of his boyish-faced greeter first -- the smooth arch of his jaw, the muscular curves of his exposed abdomen, the sweetly unassuming smile reaching up to lovely blue eyes behind a dusty ash grey mop of hair.

An exquisite smile slid across the newborn's impeccable features, and a pair of magnificent white feather wings spread out behind him, gliding him forward towards the gate. Taking the other angel's hand in his, he kissed it sweetly, batting his eyelashes up at him. "Well, hello there. What's your name, handsome?"

The other's smile dropped away quickly, replaced momentarily by some mixture of confusion and displeasure. He pulled his hand back before bowing his head again in polite deference, stiffly returning his expression to serious neutrality.

"Welcome, brother. I am the angel Raphael, and I have come to guide you to the Celestial Realm. What is your name?"

The answer entered his mind naturally, without even a moment's hesitation, and sounded like honey and stardust upon his tongue.

"I am the angel Asmodeus."

Step into the Light

Fandom: Demon Slayer, Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Soft Sex, Reader is a Sex Worker, Submissive/Inexperienced Gyutaro, Threat of Violence, Minor Spoilers for the Manga (Maybe? If you squint), Grey Morality, Gyutaro is NOT the villain in this, but he’s not exactly a good guy either. Word Count: 9.4k.

Summary: An unlikely relationship begins through one mans inability to stay away.

A/N: This is my first and probably only Demon Slayer fic. I'm just down bad for Gyutaro and had to get him out of my system. Also, this is legit some of my worst writing, but fuck it: I had fun 🤣

'I've seen you watching me.' You call out from your perch on the steps of the house. The light from the hallway, unbarred by the open front door, spills out onto the porch and coats the wood. It soaks you, dousing your back in warmth and donating it's hazy brightness to the edges of your silhouette. In your hands is a thin piece of material, already adorned with a collection of neatly stitched primrose's and the start of a butterflies delicate wing. You pull at the needle in your hand, stretching the thread of purple cotton from the material before looping it back and finishing the stitch.

In the darkness, Gyutaro drops the thing in his hand and stashes it away behind a small wooden panel. He's perched beside the porch, obscured by the thick wooden bannister of the stairs. In his chest his heart stutters. He'd thought he had been doing a good job of hiding himself, always so quiet, sticking to the shadows even though he longed to step into the light. Chewing at his lip, he sinks to his knees, trying to reduce himself to nothingness. It wouldn't do to get caught. God knows what would happen to him, caught stealing glances at an Oiran – he'd be beaten, burned...

It's been a few months since you first noticed his skulking, since then, you've grown used to the feeling of being watched. You could even say that you've come to like it. His eyes aren't filled with the same lustful hunger as the other men, aren't half as piercing, or objectifying. There's nothing of the sort in his sick, yellow eyes. Instead, he looks at you with the curiosity and confliction of a child who's been told only to look, but never to touch. You sigh, not bothering to search the darkness for him. 'Do you mind if I talk to you?

He doesn't speak, but he swears his heart answers. It thuds against his ribs and makes the bone ache more than usual.

'I'm going to take that as a no.' You pause and peer into your periphery, a smile rising to your lips as the darkness shifts. 'Of course, it would be easier to have a conversation if you'd come out from behind that rail...'

He's been getting bolder lately, lingering for longer, seeking a closer view; it was only a matter of time before you caught him really, but the shock of it is still enough to freeze his breath in his lungs. Shuffling his feet, he resists the urge to run. There's something about your voice that keeps him rooted to the spot, it's hard to tell from where he's hidden, but he's sure he can hear you smiling.

'Another time then.' Lowering your eyes again, you finish with the purple, tie it off and bite the thread to sever it from the material before switching to lilac. 'It's a nice night, don't you think?' The music from the surrounding houses drifts lazily on the air and weaves its way around the streets, intoxicating anyone who'll listen.

The air is mild, warm with a cool breeze that slips down the sides of the houses to caress working skin and tired muscle. You look up and down your sowing to blink at the moon. It’s almost dusk, the cicadas are singing and you’ve yet to be called away to entertain another wealthy man with delicate hands and a dirty mouth. ‘Yes,’ you breathe. ‘Definitely a fine night.’ Picking the material back from your lap, you return to your craft. ‘Of course, the company helps… It’s not often I get chance to actually talk to a man.’ You pause, cocking your head. ‘You are a man, aren’t you? I guess I just assumed… Either way: you’re a good listener, I can tell. It’s a good quality to have, attractive, something a woman can respect.’ Gyutaro’s throat tightens. A shiver runs down his spine. You couldn’t be suggesting what he suspected? No. He shakes his head, trying to dislodge the idea from between his ears. No woman would ever find him attractive. He’d been told as much since a child. With his sickly body and broken teeth, no woman could possibly look upon him and feel a warmth spark inside of her. Even his own mother had remained callous and cold, unable to conjure a twinge of the love one should have for their own child. He knows this to be true and yet, he’s helpless against the hunger pains that force his body to curl at the sight of you, backlit by the hall light. Gripping his stomach, he licks along his teeth. He’d stolen half a loaf of bread this morning to share with Ume and the day before he’d managed to scrounge up a few slices of meat thrown from one of the houses; he was more full than he’d been in months. Swallowing uneasily, he stretches himself back to full height as it dawns on him: Maybe it’s not food that he’s hungry for. ‘Dear?’ The voice shakes him from his realisation and causes him to shrink back into the shadow. An elderly woman wonders onto the porch and calls out again, softer this time. ‘Dear, Mr Doma has requested your presence.’ Twisting to observe the woman behind you, you chew at your cheek before conceding and offering her a smile. ‘I assume I’ll be having to fend off another offer to abscond to his precious little cult?’ The woman shuffles closer, eventually reducing herself to her knees beside you. ‘If I could speak out of turn, dear?’ You nod. ‘You’re always welcome to speak your mind to me, Mistress.’ Resting a hand on your shoulder, the woman lowers her voice to a whisper. ‘A girl like you could do well with a man like him. He’s sweet on you, you can see it in his eyes; he never calls on any other girls: only you and he’s yet to touch you. Most men can hardly wait to paw at a woman, but Mr Doma, he’s… Different. He likes you.’ ‘All of the men like me, Mistress.’ You chuckle, gently dislodging her hand. The woman levels you with a stare. ‘They like the thing between your legs.’ She vaguely gestures her own lap before poking a boney finger into the crook of your shoulder. ‘Not you.’ She shrugs, chuckling to herself. ‘A cunts a cunt, no matter how pretty it’s owner is.’ You snort. ‘Well that’s simply not true. If a cunt was just a cunt; I wouldn’t have found myself a nice young courtier like Mr Doma, would I?’ Rolling her eyes, the woman chuckles. ‘You remind me of myself, you know…’ She sighs. ‘It’s just something to consider, dear. I wouldn’t begrudge you a life with him should you wish to go. You’ve been loyal, done more than enough for the house -.’ ‘Mistress.’ Twisting, you lay a hand on the woman’s cheek. ‘If I didn’t know better, I’d think you where trying to get rid of me.’ ‘I only want the best for you, dear. You deserve a life like what Mr Doma could give you. One filled with pretty dresses and jewels, where you’d be kept and looked after…’ A laugh trickles over your lips as you gracefully climb to you feet, bringing the elderly woman with you. ‘Well then, let’s not keep him waiting. Will you announce me? Allow me a few moments to ready myself?’ With a bow, the women nods before slipping back inside the house. Pausing at the top

stair, your sowing now collected neatly into one of your hands, you look out into the dark. ‘I’ve been called away.’ Chewing at your cheek, you pause for a moment before speaking again to the nothingness. 'I try to come out here most nights when it's like this. If not here, then I'll stitch on the balcony of my room... It's the one with the purple curtain. I wouldn’t be opposed to having company more often.’ ‘Ah. There you are. Are you hiding from me, my love?’ The shadow that floods the doorway is large. It looms over you and blocks out the light, snuffing out the broad halo of luminescence that had coated your body. Gyutaro shivers. Sinking further into the dark, he steadies his breathing as the figure of a young man moves to join you on the porch. There’s a heat like he’s swallowed too many fire seeds at once in his chest when he sees the man hover a hand over the small of your back and he’s forced to clench his jaw to stop himself from spitting it up. ‘From you, love? Never.’ Your voice sounds different. It’s not as sweet, more high-pitched and tight as you indulge the man with idle small talk. He doesn’t like it. ‘Should we go on a walk, it’s a fine night for it?’ ‘The parlour.’ You smile. ‘A more suitable place for a man like yourself and the conversation he brings, don’t you think?’ For a minute you think that Doma might push, might reduce himself to the usual selfishness you’ve seen from other men, but like always, he surprises you. A smile cracks his mouth as he turns, gesturing back into the house. ‘The parlour then…’ From his hiding space, Gyutaro hears your leave, the man only half a step behind as you cross the thresh-hold back into the house. He squeezes shut his eyes, blocking out the light that still trickles from the hallway, but before he can open them and hope to catch a glimpse of you one last time - the door slams shut and he’s alone with nothing, but the darkness for company.

It’s almost Thursday by the time he gets to see you again. Not yet brave enough to clamber onto the balcony of your room, he’d returned religiously to his spot beside the staircase each night and each night, you’d failed to come. Sinking deeper into his hiding spot, he presses his shoulders into splintering wood and settles down. He’ll wait until a few hours before dawn again. A sickness crawls in his stomach as the first hour past midnight washes over the district. The air bites and scratches at the exposed skin of his chest and legs, forcing him to tuck his knees to his chest to try to preserve the little warmth his frail body can generate. Tucking his chin into his knees, he tries to forget what he’d heard the mistress say almost a week ago. ‘I wouldn’t begrudge you a life with him should you wish to go’ - the words swim in his head and make his breath quicken. Go where? He wonders. For a moment he indulges, imagines you strolling the large gardens of a manor bathed in the sunlight of a cool spring morning. Your dress would be green, like his eyes and he’d watch you, patiently commit every curve of your figure to memory as you danced between rose bush and spider lily. Maybe, maybe, he’d even join you, rising from his hidden place to feel the sun on his face, your hand in his as you walked. Another, more violent wave of sickness washes over him and forces the breath from his lungs. Would he be able to find you there? Or would he lose you? Would he be left behind with nothing, but the darkness again? ‘Mistress, please.’ The door is swung open, letting you pass onto the porch. ‘I must insist on at least an hour to myself. I’ve been beckoned from pillar to post for the best part of a week; I’ll start tearing my hair out if I have to go another moment without hearing myself think.’ ‘But -.’ ‘No.’ Your voice is firmer this time, your hand already wrapping the thick edge of the door as you prepare to shut it. ‘I’ll be taking the hour, at least…’ ‘I must -.’ You slam the door and rest your head against the wood before speaking to the air. ‘Are you here?’ Gyutaro freezes. In his chest his heart thunders. His tongue a lead weight in his mouth refuses to move and so, instead, he wraps his knuckles twice against the staircase. ‘Oh, good.’ Rummaging in the pockets of your dress, you remove something large and round, a package that crinkles when you wrestle to open it. Drifting to the edge of the porch, you kneel to place the thing on the floor before stepping away and turning your back. ‘I was rather hoping you’d eat with me… It’s an onigiri, although I’m afraid it’s a bit messy. I had to sneak them from the kitchen and they’ve been in my pockets ever since.’ You chew at your lip. ‘I’ve turned my back if you want to take it. I promise not to look.’ For a moment, he doesn’t move. The kindness of the gesture sets something kindling in his chest and then, before he can think twice, he’s slinking from his hiding spot and reaching around the side of the porch. Feeling against the wood, he pats the wood before he locates it. The paper touches his skeletal fingers, crinkling as he gingerly closes a delicate fist. It’s an easy snatch after that. Reeling back, his prize in hand, he steals to the shadows and settles against the floor. When he unwraps it he discovers that the onigiri is large, misshapen and the most wonderful thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He takes a bite, savouring the mouthful and moans as he licks spice from his lip. The noise he makes is dull and heavy, but it pleases you non-the-less. ‘I’m glad you like it.’ He takes another bite, letting a similar noise slip from his lips. Part of him knows he should be cursing himself, he’d never intended for you to know of his existence, let alone communicate with you. ‘I’m going to assume that means I’m okay to turn back around.’ You chuckle, shoulders bouncing as you spin in the light of the hallway. Wondering to the edge of the porch, you settle against the top-most step before taking a small bite from the top of your own meal. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t

been out much. I haven’t had a moment to breathe.’ You swallow your mouthful and take another. ‘Doma, the man who interrupted us last time, he comes to see me every day now. He’s determined, I’ll give him that; even if it does feel like the Mistress is trying to sell me off some days.’ The thought sours your mouth. Doma has been growing pushy for a while, although he has yet to demand your presence at his home. Still, with each of your refusals you swear you can see something shift in his eyes. Something you’re not sure you like. Wrinkling his nose, he pushes away the thought of you and the man. He knows men, knows what lingers behind their charming smiles and sweet words. It makes him feel uneasy. Your stomach bubbles. ‘Do you want this?’ Thrusting your arm out, you let the onigiri balance in your palm. It’s mostly intact, save for two small bites taken from the top. ‘I’m afraid I think I’ve lost my appetite.’ Gyutaro’s eyes fix on the meal in your palm. Does your kindness know no bounds? Having more food wouldn’t do any harm, far from it. He can already see Ume’s face, her apple cheeks glowing as he presents her with the morsel. Creeping forward, he steadies himself on the staircase preparing to snatch and retreat, but as he reaches out, his fingers brush your palm. He freezes: You’re warm. ‘Your hands…’ you mumble. The hand that reaches out of the dark is large, but thin. The tendons stand out, proud and strong, connecting wrist to knuckle as he prepares to grip. His skin is sallow, an almost grey that reminds you of the clouds on stormy days and the nails are black with polish and blood blisters. Each long finger is dainty, nobbled at the joint where flesh sticks to bone, but fine in its poise. You wonder how they would feel interlaced with yours, his cold pressed to all the places you’re warm. He flinches, moves to retract his hand and abandon the food, but before he can move, you’re thumbing at his knuckles. The touch is feather light. A barely there brush of skin on skin, but it sets him on fire. The muscles in his shoulders relax, in turn releasing his elbow and wrist. Wincing he prepares for an insult, to be spat at and shunned. ‘They’re beautiful.’ When he doesn’t move away, you twist to press more of your hand to his. Your thumb latches over the top, curling onto his palm as you lift the onigiri into his still lax grip. The word repeats on him, making his whole body feel strange and light. He can hear the smile on your voice, picture the sides of your lips pulling up as you speak. With weak knees, he surges forward, he has to see it - your smile - the lips that had spoken a word he’d never heard, not for him. ‘My love? Are you hiding again?’ You don’t snatch your hand back, despite the way Doma’s voice shocks you. Tightening your jaw, you deflate. ‘I have to leave...’ You push the onigiri into his hand, ensuring he has tight hold before you let go. ‘I’m sorry.’ The sorrow in your voice makes a lump form in his throat as he takes the food and finally pulls back his hand. He listens to you stand, listens to the way even the floor boards that creak under foot seem sad to watch you go. He really had never intended to announce himself. Looking at you had always just been a pass time before the inevitable; before he did what he came to do. Only it’s more complicated than that now, isn’t it. Breathing deep, he speaks just loud enough to be heard over the wind. ‘Thank you.’

Winter comes early that year and brings with it a small blooming friendship. Gyutaro returns to share an evening meal as often as he can, eating in calm silence for the hour or so you can spare him. On the nights you don’t join him, you leave small packages of food, neatly wrapped and tucked under the stairs - sealed with tape and a note in delicate scrawl: ‘To my stranger, I’m sorry I can not be with you tonight.’ He has a collection of notes now, pinned to the thick panelling of the wall in the corner that he sleeps. Pulling his robe tightly around himself, he makes his way to his hiding spot. You’re not on the porch when he settles down and there is no package when his curious hands pat at the dirt under the stairs. He hums, you’re late then. Letting his head fall back on his shoulders, he feels the familiar sensation of the wind chilling his bones as he prepares to wait. He’s been careful since the day you saw his hand, keeping further to the shadows and safely out of sight. That hasn’t quenched his desire to be seen, though. In fact, he thinks it’s made it worse. The pad of your thumb had been so warm against his skin, your voice so soft as you breathed praise into his ears. He longs for it. To hear it again. To feel you again. Clenching his jaw, he wrestles with the thing in his chest that squirms when he thinks of you. A shout breaks him from his daydream. He jolts, hitting his head and scrambles to his feet. It takes him too long to realise that the shouting is leaking from one of the upstairs windows, but when he does, he listens close. There’s an all manner of loud noises that seep out from a whore house windows. Many of them are innocuous, better to be forgotten than listened to; in this part of town, shouting doesn’t often mean danger. He strains his ears, trying to discern the nature of the sound, but all noise is filtered from his head when he makes out the rough edges of your voice. Immediately, he’s on the move. His eyes rake over the outside of the house, searching, searching, searching. ‘Purple curtain…’ He mumbles it under his breath. ‘Purple curtain, purple curtain, purple -.’ When his eyes finally catch it, a thin slip of cotton blowing from a third level window, he finds his body moving on its own. Before he can think, his arms are reaching, his hands gripping the jutting edge of the wooden slats to help him climb. He scuttles up the side of the house, almost slipping twice as he finally grabs onto the edge of your balcony. The curtain blows gently in the breeze, obscuring his view inside and forcing him to clamber up and onto the balcony itself. He balances on its edge, the balls of his feet bearing his weight as he listens. ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.’ Your voice is harsh, blunter than he’s ever heard it; rougher than any tone you’ve ever taken with him. ‘Dear… Sweetling,’ Another voice, a purr, calls to you, poisoning the air with faux sweetness. ‘I’m not trying to say anything. I’m telling you that you’re mine.’ You laugh. ‘I am no man’s.’ Doma’s laugh is louder. ‘I don’t know how you came across the impression that I can be bought, but -.’ ‘You’re a whore.’ Doma’s voice cracks like thunder. ‘The only thing you’ve ever known is commodity - I’m trying to give you more.’ ‘More?’ ‘A life away from this. A community, a house… Children.’ He breathes, his eyes shining as he reaches for your elbow. ‘A purpose.’ You blink, reeling back away from him. ‘There is nothing I wish for less than to bare your children, I can assure you -.’ He waves his hand and steps closer, his lips pulling back to expose sharp teeth underneath. ‘Your wishes aren’t my concern -.’ ‘Excuse me -.’ The large step backwards you take isn’t enough to stop Doma’s advance. His chest presses to yours, forcing you to look up at him as his large palms come to wrap your shoulders. The grip he takes on you is unyielding and tight enough that you can feel it bruising the skin. Taking a steadying breath, you force the fear from your voice, keeping each of your words calm and steady.

You’ve met men like this, men who want to see you scared, who get off on making small things quake. You harden your jaw: You won’t give him that pleasure. ‘I will scream. If you do not take your hands off me, I will make sure no woman in this entire district will so much as look upon you again.’ Doma blinks slow. ‘Oh. Sweetling. ‘Take your hands off me.’ He tilts his head and smiles, flashing his teeth again. A tongue, long and rosy, peaks from his mouth to lick at his lips. ‘I think I’d rather like to hear you scream.’ Inhaling quick, the sound bursts from your chest, but as quickly as it shatters the air, it’s stopped by a broad hand covering your mouth. ‘But…’ Doma locks eyes with you. There’s joy swimming in his iris’, a primal glee growing as he soaks in the terror that radiates from you. You’ve put up a good front. In fact, your little show has been quite splendid… Maybe, that’s why he has to have you? ‘I’d rather hear you scream for me under different…’ He rolls his eyes, smirks. ‘Circumstances.’ Swallowing behind his hand, you try and stop the trembling in your limbs. Behind his palm your jaw is still set, a frown etched into your brow as you glare at him, but inside, you’re shaking. He holds your gaze for a time as if making sure of your silence before lifting his hand and stepping away. ‘I will have you.’ He tells you. 'Just remember that.' Without giving you time to respond, Doma offers you a short bow before turning to the door. ‘I must take my leave, but I’ll be back.’ You don’t grant him a response or a courtesy in response. You don’t even nod your head. ‘Oh, don’t be like that, Dear. You should be glad that I want to keep you.’ Doma chuckles as hunger crawls into his eyes. ‘You’re good enough to eat.’ The door shuts then, leaving you alone. Almost immediately you fall to the floor, your knees crunching against the wood as you weep. Each sob leaves your chest in a great heaving wrench, forcing your body to shake with the force. Fear wraps itself around your limbs, suffocating you, but your breath is frozen in your throat when you hear two knocks ring clear through your room. Clearing the tears from your cheeks, you croak: ‘Is that you, my stranger?’ The knocks come again. You smile, despite yourself and relax a little easier against the floor. ‘You should come in, I know how harsh it is out there tonight.’ Gyutaro rocks on the balls of his feet. His heart thunders in his chest, adrenaline spiking as he tries to stay as still as possible. He’d been seconds away from leaping through your door, seconds away from putting himself to death because of a raised voice and a few harsh words. It shakes him. He’s always been a selfish man, but the way his body trembles betrays that. Carefully, he climbs down from his perch. You sigh, knowing he's about to bolt or settle beyond your view. The company would be nice, needed even, but you’re not in the business of forcing pretty, quiet things from their hiding places. Gyutaro speaks before he can think better. ‘Are you okay?’ He winces. Beside yours, his voice sounds cracked and hoarse, raw when compared to your melody. You bite your lip as a thrum of excitement runs through you. ‘Yes. Yes. Quite. Thank you… I -.’ You smile as you spot him slink behind the curtain, creeping closer to the open door. ‘I apologise if this is a little forward, but I think I'd rather like to see you tonight.' Breathing deep, he settles hunched against the wood of the house. His mind tells him that it’s a lie, but his heart is loud enough to deafen its scolding. ‘Really?’ ‘Really.’ Shuffling to his feet once again, he shimmies his way towards the opening. He doesn’t know if it’s the desire to be seen crawling in his stomach, or the fact that he can’t quite bring himself to believe that you’re alright that makes up his mind, but he finds himself uncaring as he hauls himself to his feet. His bones ache from his climb, his limbs and muscles whining horribly as he tries to steady his breathing. It's a stark reminder of his weakness, of how his body betrays him,

both in function and in aesthetics. ‘I’m ugly.’ Your eyebrows furrow. Beauty, you could tell him, is subjective, is far more than looks, but in a city like this it's hard not the believe the rhetoric. Taking a deep breath, you lick at your lips before asking: ‘Is that why you’ve been hiding?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And why do you think you’re ugly?’ He scoffs. ‘I don’t think. I know.’ Clicking your tongue, you find yourself standing and looking about the room for a suitable perch. Pouting, you fold your arms. ‘Well… You’ve warned me now, come on, let me see.’ With shaking fingers, he reaches for the edge of the open door and slips around it. The curtain clings to his torso, wrapping him up only to be blown backwards, revealing him stood in the doorway. As soon as your eyes touch his skin, he wraps his arms around himself. It feels wrong, being looked at so intently, being observed by something as beautiful as you. He tenses, readying for a disappointed sigh, for you to retch or walk from the room, unable to keep looking at him, but once again, it never comes.

'There...' You smile, letting your eyes rake over him slowly. He's taller than you expected, with a lithe build and pale, greying skin. His eyes are large, but hooded and his hair is a murky black that falls from his crown in loose waves. Something fizzes gently in your stomach. He certainly isn't ugly. '… Now shut the door and come sit down, I've got some food set out by the fire.'

He stumbles slightly before pulling the door shut behind him. The wood under his feet is warm, the call of your voice warmer as you shift and push yourself to your feet, asking him to sit. Without a thought he finds himself obeying. He curls himself on the floor, legs crossed under him, hands dropped into his lap as he watches you collect the food.

'Is chicken okay?' Turning back, you retake your seat opposite him and offer out the meal. You watch, intently as he takes it from you; reaching out with those large, beautiful hands.

'Thank you.' His eyes flicker to yours, skin prickling as he pulls back. Raising the rice ball to his lips, he takes a small bite from the top.

You watch him eat, lips curling as he nibbles at the rice barely taking more than a mouthful at a time before wiping at his face with the back of his hand. There's something comfortable about the silence that settles on the room, something easy about the way you lapse into each other despite having shared nothing more than a few blind meals and the same air. Shuffling, you shift closer to him until you're both facing the door. The light from the city beyond refracts off of the glass, spilling colour across the wood. You knock into his shoulder. 'Beautiful, isn't it?'

He looks up, peering over the onigiri. 'I've only ever seen it from the ground.' The light dances in his eyes, dazzling him, but even the cityscape beyond the windows isn't enough to compare to you. His eyes flicker left, eating greedily at the side of your face as he takes in your profile and the way the cities image kisses your skin.

You smile when you catch him looking, but unlike the men you're used to, he's quick to look away. His innocence makes you bold, the lack of lingering motivation under his skin a magnet that draws you closer and encourages you to press your thigh to his.

He tenses at the contact, but relaxes soon after. In the space of only a few minutes, all of his wildest dreams had come true. He'd gone from stealing glances of you, his shining light in a world that was otherwise full of nothing but shit to sharing food, sitting knee to knee and feeling the warmth of your body against his. With his heart hammering against his chest, he takes a deep breath and another bite.

'Your not like the other men in this city, are you?'

Already he can feel it, the thing that writhes in his stomach when he so much as breathes your air. If only you knew. The men in this city might only have their own desires in mind, but they came with coin and conversation; offering to you something in return for the pleasure of your body. He had nothing of the sort to offer. Instead, he'd planned to rob you, stalked you only to find himself gravitating to your light helplessly and befriending you. There was nothing he could give you, but that didn't stop his own desire. Shivering, he swallows down the thought of you discovering what he thinks about late at night while he fisted his cock. 'I'm worse.' He mutters.

'Oh, I don't believe that for a second.' You flash him a smile. 'In a city full of clients and whores, it feels as if you're my only friend sometimes, stranger.'

A blush breathes life back into his cheeks. 'A friend?' He resists the urge to scoff. Would a friend think about kissing you the way he does? Or, how the skin on the insides of your thighs would taste, sweat-slicked and slippery. How your tongue would feel coated in his seed as you licked back into his mouth?

'You don't look at me like the others do.' You stare back out at the city. 'Most of my clients don't even talk to me... Not unless it's to whisper some sweet nothing into my ear or spit some cruel insult... They don't see me as anything more than something warm and wet and willing.'

Shame coils inside of him causing his spine to bend. It feels wrong to keep the burning inside of him a secret while you're being so open, so vulnerable in front of him. He wonders what a friend would do, a real one, one that doesn't picture peeling your clothes from your skin in an almost obscene routine each night before bed. 'I -.'

'Hmm?'

He should tell you, he thinks. Should prove to you that he is everything you think he isn't, but each time he tries the words stick in his throat. Reaching for a small glass of water beside your ankle, he takes three long swallows. 'Sometimes...' He starts. 'Sometimes... I think of you like that, too.'

Another chuckle slips from your lips as you turn to him and cock and eyebrow. Even with his skin pressing to yours, your body almost flush to his side, he fails to take the path of so many other men before him. Instead, he steals glances and drops his hands back into his lap between bites. A dull hum sounds in the back of his throat when you shift, anxious to dampen the gentle bubbling beginning in your stomach. With an itch in your fingers, you reach out brushing your hand along the outside of his thigh. 'You do?'

The touch sends him reeling. He jumps, muscles tensing as he shoves himself away sending himself sprawling onto his elbows. Electricity shoots down his leg, scorching his skin where your fingers had grazed him. 'I -.' He doesn't know what he means to say, why all of a sudden his mind and body seem to be at odds. Floundering, he collects his legs again and holds himself close. 'I don't have any – I can't – wouldn't be able to - .'

You swallow, eyebrows raising on your head. Something cold and heavy settles in your gut as you watch panic and lust swirl together in his eyes. Biting the inside of your cheek, you let your eyes slip to the wooden floor as the Mistress' words echo against the walls of your skull. Maybe you are just a cunt, after all. 'I wasn't intending to secure your business.. That's – that isn't what I was trying to...' Your voice cracks. 'It's... I'm sorry – I -. I forget sometimes, that I'm just a -.'

'You're not.' The dimming in your eyes has him finding his voice again, he bites his tongue, eyes pleading for you to look at him. 'I mean, you're not just a -.'

'A whore?' You supply.

Forcing his body to relax, he offers you a broken smile. 'It's not that I don't want to... I - I want to. I do. I -.'

'Then what is it?' You whisper, twisting to face him. Rejection tastes funny after all the years you've been feasting on desire, but it doesn't sour your stomach like you'd expect it to. It stirs up a curiosity inside of you, making you cock your head and cant forward as you watch him slowly relax again.

He lifts his chin, chest trembling as he holds your gaze. Under his clothes, his skin crawls. The thought of you touching him is enough to make him dizzy, but even that isn't enough to stop the sickness that scratches at his insides. Wrapping his arms around himself, he hides, tugging the material covering his chest away from him. 'I'm... I'm hideous and you're... You're beautiful.'

'Is that the only reason?'

He nods, refusing your eye.

Shifting to your knees, you crawl towards him and reach out, letting your knuckles brush against his cheek. 'You're not hideous... Not to me, stranger.' You can see it on his face, the moment he falls, giving in to your touch as you move to cup his cheek. A gentle brush of your thumb across his skin brings his eyes to yours and then, you're encouraging him backwards to lie against the mats.

'I -.' With wide eyes, he lets you lay a hand on his chest and swing your legs over his hips. The heat of your body presses to him making the air in his lungs freeze as he struggles to decide what to do with his hands. He wants to touch you, to feel the silk of your skin, the curve of your hip under his palms, but he stutters, caught in the headlights of having you on his lap.

'Touch me.' Taking his wrists, you place his hands on your hips and cover his fingers, squeezing him until he takes hold of you. You can feel him shaking, his hips already twitching under you as you move against him with an experimental roll that earns you a gasp. His hands tighten, rough fingertips digging into the fat about your pelvis as a shaky moan wriggles its way up his throat. 'There you are...'

The muscle in his stomach twitches, tensing as a shock of pleasure crashes through his body. He's in awe, trapped somewhere in a daydream as you grind against him again. Already his cock is fattening, pushing up and against the plush of your ass as you move backwards and grin when you feel it. Summoning all of the courage he can muster, he lets his hands slip from your hips and travel up. His palms skate over your waist, fingertips searching until they brush against the underneath of your breasts. 'Can I – want to... Want to touch you here.'

'Here?' You peel back your robe, letting him get a full view of your chest. 'You can touch here.'

He doesn't need any more encouragement. He curls, bending himself into a half-moon to latch onto your nipple with his mouth.

A shocked gasp leaps from your mouth when you feel him suck. It's unexpected, the vigour at which he takes to kneading and licking at your flesh. It's hungry, starved, and sets up a furnace in your stomach. Lacing your hands into his hair, you tug and scratch, only encouraging him further with the soft whines that leak over your lips.

With his mouth wrapped around your breast, all thoughts leave his head. His hesitance vanishes, leaving him to rut up against you, his mouth tireless as he switches nipples and shares his attention.

You're dripping. You can feel it. Slick gathers between your thighs and coats your skin, seeping into the cotton of his robe as you press your cunt to his pelvis. Tugging at his hair, you ease him backwards and smooth your hands over his cheeks. There's something heady swimming in his eyes when he looks at you, something more than the violent lust you're used to. His lips are blossoming, coated in a thin layer of his own spit as he gulps air as if he's just remembered that he can't breathe you in. Slipping your hand under his jaw, you lift his chin. 'Kiss me, stranger.'

'Gyutaro.'

You bite back a smile. 'Kiss me, then, Gyutaro.'

He does. Leaning forward, he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is tentative at first, a barely there grazing of his lips against yours, but as soon as he gets a taste, he's ravenous. Moaning softly, he lets his mouth drop open when you press your tongue to the seam of his lips. It's natural, the way his hands grope at your chest while you suck his lip into your mouth, the way your bodies grind, slowly, lazily, against each other.

Pulling back, you let your hands skim down his body teasing over the soft cotton of his robe until your reach his hips. You grip him, digging in your thumbs gently before dragging your nails soft over his stomach. He shivers, whimpering into your mouth as you slip under the material of his underwear and take hold of his cock.

'Fuck – I – ha.' Gasping, he lets his mouth fall open as heat coils in his gut, but the hand you still have curled around his jaw stops him from dropping your eye. His stomach fizzes as he's forced to keep looking at you, watching how amusement swims in your pupils with each shuddering whine you're able to elicit from your idle stroking.

His cock fits perfectly in your palm, averagely thick, but pleasantly long and drooling. Pre-cum coats your skin, making each pass of your hand easy and smooth, even with the slow pace you set. Already you can see him coming apart, feel the pulse of his veins in your hand and the blunt ache of his fingers as he tries to gain purchase on your waist. 'That's it...' You hum against his mouth. 'Look at you, so pretty for me.'

'P – pr – pretty?' His eyes threaten to roll in his head, but he struggles to stay focused. The word makes him feel hollow and full all at the same time, his skin prickling as you nod and whisper it again before feeding him it on a kiss.

'So pretty.'

A stuttering whine leaves his throat when you take back your hand, but it jams in throat when you bring it to your mouth and suck, tasting him on your fingers. He wheezes and lurches forward, only for his lips to meet your outstretched finger.

You press it to his mouth horizontally, stopping his advance. Wiggling in his lap, you push backwards sliding down his legs until you can prise them apart to slip between them. Your hands land on his thighs, skating up over pale skin until they reach his cock. With one wrapping the base, you jostle, moving closer until finally, you can wrap your lips around his head.

The first suck has his head falling back on his shoulders. He has to brace himself on his arms to stop himself from falling, his hands digging mercilessly into the mat behind him as he leans back. It's a fight to stop his hips from lifting, an endless struggle to not thrust into your mouth and chase the soft wetness that has enveloped his tip. 'Fuck.' He chews his lip. 'Feels – fuck – oh, fuck – you feel.'

'Is it good?' Popping off his cock, you look up at him and blink. The hand you have wrapping the base of his cock slides up, thumb massaging the skin and vein's that run along the underside of his shaft as you go. You stop short of his head, twisting your wrist just so as your thumb digs into the tender flesh below the tip to massage, drawing slow circles into the flesh.

'It's – g – good... So – g – good.' This time he's helpless to stop the twitching of his hips. He ruts up, forcing your hand to slide on his cock and hisses when you squeeze tight.

'Patience, baby.' You kiss his tip before letting your mouth fall back open to take him in and suckle. Within a few seconds you have his thighs shaking, one of his hands has curled on the mat, white knuckles clenched tight as he tries to keep the other hand soft where he's moved it to cup your neck. It makes something swell in your chest, to be able to reduce men like this with only your mouth. It makes your own core heat, your head becoming light as you blink up at his face. His nose is wrinkled, lips pulled back over his teeth as he tries to breathe through them and steady the molten lava bubbling in his stomach.

'I'm – I.' He's not even able to get the entire sentence out before your mouth vanishes from his cock and your hand is back at the base, squeezing tight. Thrashing, he squirms as the heat in his stomach recedes, leaving him panting and desperate. 'No, no – please. I – I want to...'

Tilting your head, you coo at him while shuffling back into his lap. This time, you let your own robe fall aside and hook your fingers into the seat of your underwear to pull it aside. Bare cock presses to your thigh, smearing stickiness over your skin as you reposition yourself to hover over him. 'You don't want to cum inside me?'

His eyes blow out in real time. With the haze of your touch still gripping his mind, he'd failed to even comprehend anything more than the perfection of your mouth. Stuttering, he nods, hips flexing as he brings his cock up to press at your folds. 'P – please.'

You gasp, eyebrows rising on your head, but regain your composure enough to purr soft as you slowly sink down onto him. 'Such a good boy, aren't you? Such a good, pretty boy for me.' The stretch is modest, far from the largest you've had, but pleasing none the less. He fills you easily, hollowing you out as you come to rest back against his pelvis.

Now fully seated inside of you, his chest heaves. He's sure he's dreaming now. There's no other explanation for how your cunt feels wrapping him, how your hands feel when they hook over his shoulders, but all thoughts leave his head when you begin to move. The first lift of your hips has him groaning, then you sink back down and his whole body shudders. 'I can't... Can't – too good.'

'You going to cum already?' You tease him, but don't stop. Each roll of your hips becomes quicker, the sinking of your cunt on his cock harder as you ride him not for his pleasure, but for yours. You clit catches on the wiry mess of pubic hair on his groin and sends sparks of electricity up through your legs and encouraging your pace. 'Going to cum inside me, pretty boy? Gonna to make a mess, are you?'

Maybe it's your tone, or the wicked look that blends to adoration on your face, but he's powerless to stop the overflow. He cums quick, too quick, and with a yell. His head falls forward, mouth searching for yours to feed you his pleasure as his cock leaks heavy white into your cunt. Embarrassment coils strong and thick in his stomach. Of course, he'd ruined the moment by breaking too soon. Swallowing the anxiety that shakes his bones, he risks severing the kiss to look at you. 'Sorry, sorry. Fuck – I'm...'

'Don't need to be sorry, baby...' You sooth him, still smiling from the feeling of the warmth slathered inside of you.

'But...' He pants. 'But, you didn't...'

'Oh.' Rocking your hips again, you cup his jaw when a whine breaks his chest. 'I'm gonna, baby. Don't worry.' Your thumb slips into his mouth when you set up a rhythm again and presses against his tongue keeping it pinned down. He gurgles before closing his lips and then, he's sucking and making your head spin. 'Fuck... Good boy.' You moan. 'Such a good fucking boy.'

The praise makes him weak, makes him want to never do another bad thing again as he watches you use him relentlessly. His cock is still hard, even if he doesn't quite understand how. The muscle in his stomach twitching and flexing relentlessly as you ride him into overstimulation. It burns, makes him tremble and brings him to the edge of tears, but he doesn't ask you to stop. Instead, he sucks harder at your thumb and swirls his tongue around your digit.

His cock head presses to the spongy roof of your cunt, your clit tickled by his pubes as you grind down chasing after a high you know is only a few moments away. 'I'm – I'm cumming. I'm cumming. I'm cumming.' In a handful of thrusts, you're coming undone. You moan, loud and unabashed as a wave of pleasure crashes into you. It makes your cunt tense, milking him as your thrusts slow to an eventual stop. Collapsing forward, you slip your thumb from his mouth and rest your head against the crook of his neck, panting into his skin.

'Was...' He croaks after a moment. Your breath is warm as it fans against his shoulder, your lips soft as he feels them press to him, your teeth scraping after them. 'Was I good? Good for you?'

You snicker and reel back only to pull him into a lazy kiss. Usually, your clients are less than willing to subject themselves to overstimulation in search of your pleasure, but Gyutaro had been more than happy to whimper and burn for you. It makes something fizz in your stomach as you cup his cheeks in your hands again. 'So good. The best.'

Melting into your touch, he sighs. Fatigue settles on his shoulders quickly, leaving his muscles aching and his eyes almost closing. He wraps his arms around your waist and presses you close, resting his head against your shoulder as he basks in the aftermath of your praise. He should tell you, he thinks as he feels you shift and slip from his lap. He should tell you a lot of things, but he doesn't. He doesn't tell you that your cunt has been the first, that your lips and hands have been the only kind touch he'd received his entire life. He doesn't tell you that he'd been watching you for months, or the real reason he'd been creeping behind your house that night. It doesn't matter, he thinks, not any more. He doesn't want to ruin the moment. ‘Can you - can you call me what you call him?’

You blink, confused as he peers up at your through damp eyelashes. ‘Call you what, my love?’

His heart swells and he’s forced to clench his jaw to keep from crying. It feels like love as you whisper it again into his hair, his nose buried into your chest as his whole body goes light.

You smile and let him rest for a moment, mumbling sweet things to him. ‘There, you are, my love. There you are.’ Then, after a moment you take his hand, clean him down with a towel from your bathroom and pass him a warmed cup of tea when eventually he folds himself back up on the mat. He looks softer in the dying light of the city. His eyes are shining, his mouth twisted not into a scowl, but a smile. Settling yourself across from him, you chew at your lip. It's almost domestic, with no money exchanging hands, no awkward goodbyes and re-scheduling. Your chest hollows. 'You look beautiful.'

He looks up from his tea. Looking at you as you settle down beside him, your eyes full of warmth as your hand reaches out to stroke the length of his arm he can't help, but believe it. 'You're beautiful, too.'

'Thank you.' You tap your head against his. 'I'm glad you decided to come out of the shadows...'

Raising his tea to his lips, he gulps at the liquid. He could get used to this. The warmth, the food, your company. If he had been born a different man, he might find such small comforts boring, but to him, this was nothing short of paradise. Draining his cup, he tries to stop the thought from souring his stomach. He's not that man, though, is he? No. He’s an ugly man, who has sought to hurt you before being caught in your light. 'So am I.' He chances a glance towards the window and instantly regrets his choice when he notices that the lights of the city have already dimmed. In a few hours, the sun will rise and he'll have to slink back into his shadows once more. 'I... I should go. Ume – Ume is probably worried.'

You mouth drops open. Shaking yourself, you press your hand to your sternum to try and flatten the jealousy that had risen there. It's a foreign emotion, one that you've felt more for another woman's shiny robe than her man, but it burns none the less. 'Ume?'

'My sister.'

'Oh.' Taking another sip of tea, you scold yourself. 'Would I know of her?'

He shakes his head. 'She'll be waiting for me – I...'

You chew at your lip for a moment, waiting in the baited silence. 'I – can I give you something? Something to remember me, this – I mean...'

His brow furrows, but he nods none-the-less. You need not ask really, he'd take anything you have to give.

At once you're on your feet and rooting around in a small box beside your bedroll. You toss aside cotton and fabric, pulling out reels of thread before you finally find what you're searching for. It's a small piece of stitch-work. At only a few centimetres across, the material only just covers the skin of your palm as you stand and make your way back over to him. You'd been working on it for months, ever since you'd first noticed him and just last week, you'd managed to finish it. The design is simple. An elegant primrose supporting a butterfly, it's wings splayed and stretched in an imaginary sun. You hand it to him with a shy smile.

Air sticks in his throat as he takes it gently. It looks even smaller in his palm, delicate as he cradles it, scared to ruin the image. 'For me?'

'For you.'

'I -.' Locking eyes with you, he finds his jaw clench, mouth unable to summon the words to describe how his whole body feel light and hollow. With language failing him, he pushes himself to his feet, abandoning his cup in his anxiety to reach out to you. His hand cups your cheek, a new confidence in his movements as he brings his lips to yours in the hope that a kiss will say everything he's unable to.

This time, he takes the lead. His lips guide you, press and knead to yours with a grace you'd not expected and in moments you're melting. Your hands bunch in the robe covering his chest, tugging tight and keeping him close. It feels like drowning when he finally steps back and breaks the kiss.

'I should...' He mumbles, even though his hand hasn't left your cheek.

'Will you wait for me tomorrow?'

'I'll try.' Stepping away, he folds the material you've given him and slips it into his pocket ensuring to push it deep, save he lose it. His hand slips from your cheek to your shoulder and down your arm where he interlaces his fingers with yours.

You squeeze his hand and move together to the balcony, sharing a final fleeting kiss before you're forced to release him entirely. The curtain billows in the wind, licking at his body as he yanks open the door and then... He steps back out of the light.

Slipping out of the door, he scales back down the side of the house as quietly as he can with the new ache in his muscles. There's a smile on his face when he reaches the bottom, his hand touching the pocket of his robe to ensure the small stitch-work cloth is still tucked away safely. He's about to turn and vanish back into the shadows when a large figure steps out from his hiding spot to block his path. Gyutaro freezes.

'Ah.' Doma's mouth stretches wide. 'So you're the little rat she's been feeding...' He hums taking a step closer. 'What is it she calls you? Her little stranger?'

Gyutaro backs up until the wall of the next house stops him. His hand reaches behind him, palms blindly searching the wood for an imperfection, an indent. The second his skin touches cold metal, he's wrapping his hand tight and pulling back, the sharp edge of a hammer now pressing into his back. He'd never moved it. Despite the abandonment of his original plan, the one he'd co-ordinated with Ume all those months ago – to sneak into your house and... He swallows. It didn't matter now. Now, he'd slaughter anyone who dared to have such a thought about you. Doma's voice breaks him from his daydream, causing his grip to tighten on the hammer.

'Although... I think you're a little too familiar for all that now, aren't you?' He cocks his head and tuts as something dangerous dances in his eyes. Licking at his lips, he takes another step forward. His nails become daggers, teeth flashing sharp below his lip as he grins. 'And, I'm not sure I like that.'

-> Masterlist

Guys, guys! If you're looking for a wing-fic for Top Gun that makes you want to cry because emotions, please, read this one. This is written by @wafflesrisa and while they've taken a break from it for their own health, I've come back to read it several different times. The three chapters we have so far are wonderful and it deserves all the attention. This doubles as a time travel fic and it's a heartbreaker. :)

Happy birthday my dear @the-starryknight! It’s been such a joy to share this space with you for the past couple years. You’re not only one of the kindest souls out there, but also an incredibly talented writer and such an important fandom supporter and enthusiast. I’m beyond grateful for everything you’ve done - from compiling great resource posts like this one with Drarry reccers and this one about fandom curation - to your uplifting Tuesday TLC Zone series and your gorgeous, heartfelt fic recs. It’s wonderful to see the quiet yet powerful impact you have beyond your written works, which are already brilliant in themselves.

The way you’re able to build delicious tension and suspense in just a few words, the way you explore aching tenderness, raw desire and desperate loneliness, the way you gently guide us from darkness to healing with every love story. Your impeccable prose, your precise use of sentences, your ability to transform nuanced characters and establish rich universes within just a few words. Everything about you and your writing moves me so much! I can only express gratitude and appreciation for everything that you’ve done and shared with us so far. Here’s a little gift to celebrate your iconic short format that reflects all of the things I mentioned above, with a few selected favorites from this microfic series that I adore so much. Happy birthday! 💙

🏮ch 5: read him in secret // dogeared pages

My lips dogear the page of his skin so I can’t forget my place, bookmarked out of sight. Unsilenced, my fingernails leave red marginalia on his spread thighs, his sweat dampening the pages: remember this. They wrote a thousand stories in his name, but I’m the author of his satisfaction.

🏮ch 9: audience of one // blush

The adrenaline bass fills Harry’s veins like a heartbeat as he watches from the wings. The stage lights blush across Draco’s burning cheeks, the final notes shiver from his fingertips. The audience shouts his name — Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy — but it tastes different in Harry’s mouth, Draco’s music on his tongue.

🏮ch 12: seeker on seeker // gloves

It’s the leather pressed so close to my skin I can feel the threads in the fingertip where he fucks me, glove on thigh on cock, unwilling to shuck our Quidditch kits in favour of this — oh — this, riding him with everything in between and nothing left to stop us.

🏮ch 16: desire admission // silk

He’s sunken into the silk-tied satin-slide sweetness of try-this-with-me trust, of lace on skin and knots on thighs. “Draco,” he pleads, shivering on the ever-moving edge of desperation. “Draco,” slips from his tongue as I fuck him like he wants it most, sweat-slick and uninhibited.

🏮ch 32: shelf life // bookbinder

Bind me to him, lay my gathering down against his spine so only thread lies between our inked pages. Tie me to him so I can feel the hush of our deckle edges against each other with every licked-finger page-turn press. Open me, I’ll tell him. Read me – I’m yours.

🏮ch 35: lying lupine // werewolf

I cared for him only as the Wolf, but I knew him in every sense of my self. Pine and hemlock, sandalwood and home — when the moon glared monthly fear into my bones, he smelled like safety. In daylight, though our knees remained mud-stained, I looked the other way.

🏮ch 38: alchemical formula // inch

I know his inches by touch and his skin by taste and the balance of gold to man by the way he makes my heart beat. He is eternal life when he laughs; and seductive sin when he offers himself to me — freely, as if I deserve to know.

🏮ch 42: taking back life's thread (a second chance) // thread

If Fate lives, let her watch me take this thread and tie it ‘round his wrist — bind him to me. When we weave this life’s tapestry, we’ll hold our clashing colours double, we’ll trace the same pattern; I have spent too long at odds to not press myself against him.

🏮ch 48: potions collaboration // stardust

“Let me teach you how to collect stardust,” murmured Draco, pressing Harry into the dewy grass. They were bare beneath the full moon, naked skin flushed with the summer heat and more. “Like this,” he said, drawing his thumb through sweat collected at Harry’s hip. “On skin, suspended in saltwater.”

🏮ch 50: little luminaries

Harry stands among his creations; a dozen glass lights dazzle amid the charmed ceiling. Vibrant red, silver-grey and joyful yellow by the witchlight, his craft in each soldered seam.

"You're watching me again."

How can I not? "I like the gold one, there."

"They're yours. I make them all for you."

Check the full little luminaries microfic collection here!

Brand new Weaver ref for Art Fight yippee!!!

Old references: Oct 2020 | Feb 2022 | Jun 2022

Update November 2023: tweaked some colors

Update December 2023: tweaked colors again

notes transcript under the cut

The Weaver; she/her, vi/vir

Normal Weaver (3 drawings on the left)

cape knot is slightly to the right

poof tail

whiskers are optional

cape can turn into wings

same wing shape as crows

Eldritch Weaver

stripes are always flowing and changing

actually a freaky shapeshifting eldritch space creature

Info (blood, character size, etc)

forked tongue :]

has weird blood that turns into weird mist

“weaves” stories using magic threads which represent characters

usually small (weaver’s usually a little taller than 2 coffee mugs)

eldritch weaver’s size fluctuates WILDLY

Thinking about how actually getting to know TG:M Maverick would be really scary for the kids in TG 1986

They’re used to Maverick as this tiny hotshot pilot whose bark is worse than his bite, with a sunny smile and questionable fashion sense

And then here’s this 30-year veteran with a thousand-yard stare who has been through multiple warzones, does not take any BS, and teaches classes by asking what excuses they will be able to offer to the family of their dead colleagues

Thread dyed black and green

530w, vague/implied Bag A Legend spoilers, also on ao3

Here, take this, it’s just a shirt. Fold it open, mark the seams, trace the stitches, is there something to find? A story to tell?

It starts as curiosity, he would tell you as much. The stitches are fast here, loose, looking for thrills and excitement. But just as quickly they tighten, falling steady and even. This is a slow job, but there are promises, hints of more, he can work with that, he knows patience. He is no stranger to tedium, to repetitive notions and steady hands.

At first, he sees it as a sort of foray into deeper monster hunting, the kind where the real prize is the story, not whatever the ministry offers. That changes, though, with the addition of a new ingredient. There’s a stray thread, caught between the stitches, too tight for you to pull out, dark as night.

Black wings absinthe. That small, personal connection. Feeling the howl of wind, the pounding wings, the rushing blood and fierce adrenaline, There’s that thrill, just enough to get him excited. It gets him coming back, needing to feel that fervor again, pushing harder for progress, eager for more.

It meanders here, gets caught on a fold, lost in a knot. Skip down, jump a section or two, they won’t be missed, it doesn’t matter. We’re here for a story, it picks up again down here.

It comes down to a mutual desire for violence. Of seeing the other maybe not as an equal but as competent, worthy, not someone to go easy on, not someone to hold back with. Someone who won’t judge you for wanting to bite and rip and tear, someone who wants the same. It’s indulging desires that make others think you’re out of your mind, delighting in this secret you have to convince yourself is a rivalry.

But then – on the same fabric, just a different stitch, parallel yet separate – it is cordial, bound by business and social cues. It’s craftsman and retailer, worker and manager, tailor and supplier. They can both see through the other’s charades, playing the same game, knowing each other too well, connecting pieces others don’t get to see. Their interactions are polite, friendly even, competitive and overfamiliar in a way that implies too much. It’s a different sort of thrill, knowing what you do. You could ruin it, you should, it could do the same to you. You don’t, it doesn’t either, you both like what you’re weaving together.

Follow the stitches, further down, past where some are skipped and others are too tight – if, when it comes to it, he doesn’t know what choice to make? He knows there has to be an end, the stitch must be tied off, the piece must be finished. There’s an audience now, a chorus waiting in the sidelines, it’s not just about him any more, he’s not sure it ever was. Could he bring himself to do it? To push away this freedom he’s barely tasted? Or would he stop, pick the stitches, re-arrange the parts, read the patterns again and again, throw them out, try something new, something better, there has to be something better.

Well, who's to say?

Well, Victor Timely sure knows how to draw attention and eventually make some money. And make me write another post on a partially scientific topic. I’m not an expert tho!

On the right side of the stage there's a sign, 'Electrifying achievement to harness the power of time'

And then he explains what the Loom does. 'My temporal loom inverts the temporal decay of the electricity flowing through it, lowering its entropy and gathering it into fine threads of power. Which it then weaves into elegant ropes of voltage. A chaos of particles is transformed into order.'

(I'm gonna assume he quotes OB's guidebook and not just wings it all randomly, because at least a part of what he says made sense to me)

In short, he says that the Loom can arrange matter into an ordered state. And that it not only uses electricity but also reproduces it in a form of threads and ropes. That would explain how the TVA operates outside of uh time and why it has power surges in s2e1. But it still leaves the question from where comes the initial energy to kick start the loom.

I believe that the temporal decay is synonimous to the increasing entropy. Entropy is a measure of how many ways there are possible to rearrange the same amount of matter without changing its 'shape'. Simply put, objects with low entropy can't be rearranged without being broken/reassembled. And those with high entropy can be rearranged without changing its form or shape, so to speak. Prof. Brian Cox compares the former with a sand castle and the latter with a pile of sand 👌 Another important point is that entropy inevitably increases over time: order becomes disorder. BUT. If we go back in time — and not like in Doctor who but like in Tenet — then we would observe entropy again, increasing relative to us (and not decreasing if we observe it from the present into the past).

Now, I think that raw time, as OB named it, is energy with high entropy and a physical timeline is rearranged energy with low entropy. When a timeline branches, entropy increases again. Also, temporal radiation means a form of energy that travels from a source through space.

(Side note. My initial guess was: to isolate a timeline HWR would need to have something threaded. Which would mean that the Loom came first. But when the timeline branches it creates more input INTO the Loom. And what’s more, in the end of s1 the Sacred timeline branches into a web which resembles the raw time. Just like Timely said, ‘the energy of the past, present and future flows all around us.’ And HWR managed to harness it to sustain his big project. So, raw time/sacred/other timelines exist as they are, and the Loom is just a tool to operate the former)

(Side note 2. The Sacred timeline doesn’t consist of just one universe. It’s weaved from multiple but strictly selected multiversal timelines. Otherwise we’d see minutemen in previous movies)

I can accept temporal auras which can help track and pull someone across space-time. Or temporal radiation, which is itself a fun concept. But what puzzles me the most is time being a form of matter. In our reality, at least according to the current physics, it’s a dimension. I can’t wrap my head around it. Even in a fictional way, i can’t explain it to myself. Because I experience time the same way people do in the show. I think here Timely either simplifies so to make people understand and buy his Loom or he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.

And that’s why, until proven otherwise or explained by OB, I think that the Loom is first of all just a big power generator. The timelines are being pruned manually by time cops setting time bombs and arresting variants. Resetting a timeline means removing entropy that was created by a variant’s actions. The Loom generates energy for the TVA, people working there and their equipment. And maybe it charges Kang’s time chair.

The multiverse doesn’t need the Loom to function. Time flows on its own, entropy increases all the time, it’s far more inevitable than Thanos. Loom is a tool, it can be removed, repaired or upscaled. The TVA as organisation and people and city (?) all need it but, most of all, the person behind it.

Fae people: Spiders

Scattered about in small villages, spiders sometimes seem more primitive or asocial than Insect Faes. It is a false assumption however ; their society is simply organized in a more horizontal way, with very little hierarchy. Every social unit, be it a village, a small regroupement or even just a family, decides together on everyone's roles and duties. When a decision must be made that might affect more spiders than just this one unit, such as matters of conflict and war, gatherings are organized for people to discuss, debate, and vote on the course of action. A council is often elected to oversee such debates, usually consisting on the oldest and wisest, as well as the strongest and most admired members of the community. A small group of people with varied expertise, able to give advice on different matters, and rule a decision when the community is too divided to come to one by themselves.

Spiders can boast of a few special abilities that differentiates them from other Faes and greatly shaped their way of life.

>Multiple pairs of eyes. Like most people, spiders have 2 eyes that can see in the same spectrum of light as normal humans. The secondary eyes however allow them to perceive some ultraviolets, which can be useful for better distinguishing certain plants and animals that bear patterns only visible in this spectrum. Some nocturnal spiders can even see in the infrared spectrum which useful for seeing in the dark.

>Weaving. Spiders use their hair as thread to weave cloth, rope, and even magic! Most spiders know how to weave at least some simple creations, as it is one of the staples of their culture. Clothes are an important means of self-expression and standing, and many spiders, especially those that are well-off or are clothes weavers themselves, will show off some beautiful colorful clothes.

Spider hair is made of different materials than other people's hair, and grows faster too. Many spiders and especially hunters and warriors will keep their hair long so they can use it on the fly if needed. Using thread and ropes to fight is one of the spiders' specialty, and tricky to counter when you're not used to it. Alternatively, spiders that don't weave much or at all regularly cut their hair and donate it to weaver workshops.

Some weaving arts have been passed down for generations in certain families. If regular weaving is already well consideredd, magic weaving is even more important for spiders. Its mysteries are well-guarded and it has brought spiders strength and protection against enemies for centuries. Some few magic weavers will specialize in weaving information into webs and become Archivist, a very small group of weavers dedicated to keeping history and other very important information alive in a hidden library.

>A second pair of arms. Like many Insects' wings, they can appear and disappear mostly at will (and like Insect's, clothes get in the way of them, which is why most spiders keep a lot of their torso uncovered, or covered with a layer of clothes that is easy to remove) and while they do require a bit of training to learn how to use them in tandem with their main arms and can be a bit much at times, they can truly boost a spider's speed and/or maneuverability in many activites such as fighting or weaving. Very rarely, a spider will be so skilled at what they do with their 4 arms that they might be able to sprout and use a 3rd pair. It is extremely hard as it requires a lot of focus, dexterity and training. A few legendary warriors and weavers are known to have had 6 arms.

>Venomous fangs. Spiders possess special glands that allow them to produce venom. The potency and effects of it can vary slightly from individual to individual, and some people don't produce venom at all. Dedicated hunters, or people with particularly potent or useful venom will regularly drain their glands and store the venom to use it later or sell it.

Spiders and Insects have a long history of not getting along well. The 2 groups simply have very different ways of seeing things. Spiders think of Insects as weak-willed, gregarious and clumsy, while Insects see spiders as primitive, cunning and scary people. Spiders sometimes have the reputation of being cowards, because of their fighting philosophy, relying on traps, poisoned weapons, and strategic hit-and-run ambushes. Such fighting style is adapted to smaller numbers of fighters. They themselves consider Insects cowards as well because they prefer to fight in bigger swarms and battalions.

✨✨1, 12, 29, 36 for the Top Gun Ask!✨✨

1) Favourite ship and why?

Listen, I'm fairly sure it's mandatory to ship IceMav in the Top Gun Fandom, and it's damn high on my list, but I'm a sucker for Goose and Mav having QPR. Mav kinda defines himself by his father and by Goose. He has to be better than his father and he has to be good enough for Goose. Goose, conversely, took one look at this tiny angry pilot, asked if anyone was going to take care of him, and didn't bother waiting for an answer. At least that's my take on it. It's heavily influenced by the novelization that you can read for free Here~

12) Favourite fic?

I really like A Mavericks Specialty by WYGD4G, I'll ride in This Life with You by Sassenach082, and Wings Threaded by the Same Weave by WafflesRisa. Also basically anything ever written by PurpleArrowzandLeather or Katastrophe (Karrington)

Can you tell I read too much fanfiction

29) Did you get into aviation because of Top Gun or were you a fan before?

I was a huge fan of aviation as a tween and teen, reaally wanted to be an astronaut, but had kinda fell out of the interest as I became more interested in biology/medicine. Top Gun has brought back a lot of that interest though and has caused me to fall into several rabbit holes researching various things.

36) Who’s the better pilot?

Viper Probably Iceman in the original and Mav in the second movie. Ice managed to evade 5 MiGs until Mav got there and that had to have taken some skill! I'd defend my second statement, but there was a whole ass movie dedicated to its defense