1010lilfoot

Chapter 16, Page 19

The Big Three...?

TDL Chapter 16, Pages 15-18 Thumbnails

Amily set up her AAC app with every phrase she thought she might need for socializing at this gala and then in comes Ambre with the steel chair ("hey hottie")

Chapter 16, Page 18

New character!! Partridge, the Chimera.

Chapter 16, Page 17

Enough weird-girl-flirting!! It's time for PLOT

Chapter 16, Page 16

Your AAC app does not have the words for this.

Chapter 16, Page 15

(pointing and shouting) F-BOYYY!

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I think Ambre is not the best wingman...

Chapter 16, Page 14

Cameron's androgynous swag

Chapter 16, Page 13

^Teenagers who don't know what polyamorous means in 2016

Chapter 16, Page 12

That's probably a yes.

Chapter 16, Page 11

What a lovely occasion!

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I forgot to save the thumbs for p5 and p6! Oh well, what can you do? Anyways enjoy Ambre's jeans again.

Chapter 16, Page 10

Trouble looks fancy, at least!

Chapter 16, Page 9

And the trouble is...?

Chapter 16, Page 8

They're even ripped...

Chapter 16, Page 7

Fancy! Outfits!

Chapter 16, Page 5-6

Don't end the scene!

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Domestic slice-of-life opening scene!

Chapter 16, Page 3-4

That's not intimidating at all!

Chapter 16, Page 1-2

Welcome to Arc 3!

STAR GIRL bonus sketches

I don't think I'll ever write a sequel or anything, but while I was working on STAR GIRL, I played around in the universe's sandbox a bit. I have a lot of thoughts on all the minor characters.

There's a future where Charon becomes a vigilante magical girl in my brain, and there's one where he stays inactive. Either way, that story would be centered on his younger siblings, Sunny and Aurora. (Much like STAR GIRL was centered on Charon, Stella's younger sibling.) I think all of them are pretty messed up for a long time post-comic, but Sunny and Aurora come into their own when they're at college. I think they'd end up protesting the conscription of kids as magical girls, and the government's apathy toward monsters... The antagonist would definitely be more clear-cut than in STAR GIRL.

In the past, I think Fire Girl and Garden were pretty good friends. They worked together often, and got along well even though it seemed like they were bickering all the time. When Garden died, Fire Girl quit being a magical girl, and she never got the government retirement package because she didn't technically retire. So she is not well-off at all, money-wise. I think, during STAR GIRL, she has a girlfriend, though. She's 20, and they're living together and making things work as best they can.

During the comic, V and Cirrus cross paths behind the scenes. Both are 14, and Cirrus has already turned out to be a very jaded person. She's by far the least personable magical girl, and she never voluntarily joins in on any publicity stunts. If somehow persuaded to join, she is so harsh to fans/interviewers/etc. that the agency always ends up sending her home a few minutes into the event. V is the opposite, a people-pleaser, though not because he enjoys the fame. He gets very anxious under the spotlight. Cirrus thinks he's too nice and complacent, but she still can't resist the urge to look after him.

STAR GIRL concepts

Here are some of the old pages! As I said, I nearly made it to the end with this color style. It's pretty, but I wasn't satisfied with it; it seemed like too many colors and gradients for the lineart. I feel like people might see this and think, "What? But these pages are so much cooler!" Coolness isn't everything, you youngins! My artistic license triumphs! I don't actually mind if people think these are cooler, though.

STAR GIRL concepts

Wow, I don't think I've posted this final promo poster on Patreon yet! It's already up on my other socials, but here we are. The anime reference for this one is a classic.

And now, color concepts!

These were my very first color tests! I wanted to have the comic in black and white with a few pops of color. It looked better with these tests than it did in the actual comic, though.

I recolored this thing so many times! At one point, I was nearly to the final pages when I decided I was too unsatisfied with the look. In the end, I decided on a simpler palette than anything I'd tried before, and I liked it a lot! But I kept some of the old pages as concept art. I'll post those next.

Collections

Patreon's doing something new where tags have been somewhat replaced by collections. I don't know how much I like the change, but I took the liberty of making several collections in case you patrons are having trouble browsing the backlog of my stuff. There should be one for each tag, aside from the "Talent de Lune" and "comic" tag, which are crazy big! And anyway, I've already got TDL on tumblr and webtoon for easier reading, lol.

STAR GIRL pdf

As promised, here is the full STAR GIRL comic, a little early for my patrons. This is a long one, folks, so grab your popcorn!

A child dreams of being a magical girl. A friend provides a vicarious dream. A young adult carries the city on her back. This is STAR GIRL.

(I wrote this without knowing what the theme was. The comic gave me an answer. I hope you can extrapolate your own personal meaning from it as well.)

A 74 page comic, complete.

Soon, I'll be posting color concept art and additional sketches as well. Enjoy!

Arc 2.5

((It's time for short story #2! After this, Talent de Lune will resume, later this month.

Foreword: It's decently long, about 4k words with a lot of pictures. A prequel to TDL, centered on Ambre, Sarah Chu, and Dan Penwood. There is implied violence (somewhat cartoonish), the brief appearances of guns, and pretty much every character is morally dubious. Take care while reading!))

---

Spring, 2012. It’s a beautiful day, and Sarah Chu is deep underground, examining vats of electrically-charged nonthermal plasma with her closest friend-coworkers.

Ambre looks to be about two seconds away from breaking the glass cover and sticking her hands inside. “Would this stuff burn my hands off?” she asks morbidly.

“No, it’d probably evaporate into the air and you’d waste a million dollars,” Penwood says.

Ambre grins. “Cool.”

Secretary Malla stares at them. “Please do not break the glass.”

Today’s primary task is a brief day-trip to Bright Industries. The company is both a top financial backer for the FHTC and an important supplier, providing a key component for Sarah’s patented Talent suppressor tech. Talent Plasma. Its formula is complicated, finicky, and vague; even Sarah and Penwood, the ones who refined it, have not been able to puzzle out the exact nature of its one secret ingredient.

Well, as long as they can use the stuff without burning their hands off.

Last week, Bright Industries requested Sarah’s presence. She pays them annual visits, and though this year’s trip has come a little early, it’s been standard thus far. She’s toured the facilities, now all that’s left is to hold a conference with the company’s top brass about her latest work on Talent suppressor tech.

She asked Penwood to accompany her, and Ambre was allowed to tag along after complaining of boredom.

It’s best to keep her from getting too bored.

Sarah can admit that the day hasn’t been completely routine, which is a nice change of pace. The CEO of Bright Industries retired recently, passing on the torch to his son. The staff has clearly gone through a bit of upheaval. Sarah feels sorry for those who were fired, but it’s always nice to meet new faces. Well, usually.

Secretary Sarah Malla is new. Their first meeting left something to be desired.

Speaking of Sec. Malla… She steps forward and clears her throat. “Our tour has ended. The board is ready to see you.”

“Great!” Sarah says, trying her best. Malla doesn’t bat an eye, just silently leads them to the elevator and inputs the proper passcodes. Penwood has to tear Ambre away from the plasma vats.

---

They enter the main conference room. As with the past ten rooms, Ambre charges in first, excited to be somewhere new, and Penwood fruitlessly attempts to hold her back by the scarf. For once, Sarah feels a little unprepared for her meeting with the company’s CEO. Her heart rate picks up.

Penwood stays dead silent. Sarah inwardly sighs, stepping forward to shake Bright’s hand. “Yes, of course. I’m Dr. Sarah Chu, and you’ve certainly made an impression, Mr. Bright!” Maybe her grip is a bit strong, because Bright winces.

“But, you…” he trails off, glancing between her and Penwood.

“What?!” Penwood snaps. “Talk to the woman you invited.” He clicks his tongue and drops into an open chair. Ambre does the same, grinning eerily. Bright bares his teeth in an awkward smile.

Contrary to a certain executive, Sarah came prepared for the visit, with a suitcase full of her latest prototypes. And yet, despite the rocky start, Bright and the other board members are an eager audience, much more so than the previous board ever was. They ask lots of interesting questions, acknowledge and admire the effort she’s put into her work. Sarah’s mood is looking up, and by the end of the presentation, she’s pretty pleased.

“We’re out of time,” Penwood points out, eyeing his watch. Sarah holds back a sigh. Too bad.

“It was nice meeting you all!” she says, packing up. “We look forward to your continued generosity.”

Bright beams. “About that…”

Oh no.

Sarah scans the room. At some point, the security guards must’ve moved, because they’re currently covering all the available exits. It’s a bit much for a simple intimidation tactic.

So this is more than simple intimidation.

“What the hell, Agent?!” Penwood jumps up and hisses at Ambre. “You just been sleeping over there??”

Ambre giggles, inordinately pleased. She was getting bored, Sarah realizes, and she allowed them to be surrounded in an attempt to spice things up.

“Please, there’s no need to panic,” Bright says. He sounds perfectly cheerful, and it’s starting to get annoying. “Just a few more minutes of your time. I’d like to make you an offer, Ms. Chu.”

Doctor. She wants to correct him, but the words are stuck in her throat along with her heartbeat.

“Your work has greatly impressed us. Lately—under new leadership, one might say—my company seeks to move in a fresh direction. Hmm, how should I put this?” Bright taps his pearly-white grin in thought, then claps. “Essentially, we’d like to commercialize your inventions! The suppressor tech.”

“It’s not for sale,” Sarah manages, her voice coming out rough—like it always does when she’s frustrated. “I didn’t make this stuff for you to shove it in the hands of anyone and everyone. It’s gotta be regulated. And the FHTC provides that regulation already.”

Penwood makes a doubtful noise. Sarah shoots him a glare. Can he not undermine her argument, please??

“You won’t make much money with principles like that,” Bright chuckles. It’s infuriating.

Sarah isn’t the most righteous person in the world. In fact, she wouldn’t even call herself the most righteous person in the room. But she’s decent enough to understand that—in America at least—the Talents have twelve measly years of very fragile footing. To hand everyone else a specialized way to take them down? No matter what her principles are, Sarah—of all people—can understand how bad that would be.

“I see what the problem is.” Bright ambles back toward the front of the room, gesturing at Malla. Standing at the smart board, she tries three times to bring up a new window, poker-faced. Wow, those things are impossible to use.

Finally, Malla succeeds.

“Man, what?” Sarah asks.

Bright sighs. “We’ll supply you and your companions with unlimited funds, for any and all projects you can think of. And…” He shoots a glance at Ambre. “Your security will gain access to an expansive, expensive arsenal of the highest quality. How does that sound, Ms. Chu?”

Penwood and Ambre freeze.

“You said… Repeat that?” Penwood leans forward. “How much funding?”

“Arsenal means weapons, right?” Ambre asks. “Could I get a real-life morning star? Combined with a flail??”

“Whatever you desire,” Bright says brightly. His confidence is fully restored, and his teeth shine menacingly. “Just ask, and Bright will provide.”

“I take back the bad attitude. This sounds like a nice gig.”

“Anyone you want me to kill?”

“Hold on!” Sarah yells. “We have jobs already! We can’t just ditch the FHTC to mass-produce my technology without any regulations!”

“Why not?” Ambre asks.

Sarah groans. “It’s dangerous! Too dangerous to spread around.”

“So?” Penwood scoffs. “They’re offering us unlimited funding. Applicable to whatever projects we want. Isn’t that the dream, kid?”

It is. “But…I mean…we have to have some measure of morality in this!” Sarah sputters, crossing her arms and drawing the suitcase closer to her. “We make tech for the— the whole national authority on Talents. Our decisions could change the world! We have to—”

Ambre fake-snores. “Boring! You guys talk too much. Show me the weapons!”

Bright sweats. “We, uh, don’t have them yet—”

“Get ready for your ears to fall off with boredom, cause I’m gonna talk some more!” Sarah snaps, standing up. “If no one wants to listen to reason, I’ll just be straight with you! I’m the one with the patent. Talent suppressor tech is mine. So thanks for the job offer, but I’m not interested, Mr. Bright! You can go eat shit!”

“Now that’s just crass.”

Sarah stomps toward the door, shouldering aside bemused security guards through sheer force of will. Bright sighs behind her. “It’s certainly a shame. I was hoping this business would run a bit more smoothly.” He chuckles. “Ever the optimist, I am!”

“He’s so annoying,” Penwood stage-whispers to Ambre.

“Nonetheless, I continue to strive for my goals and I never give up! I— Pardon me, could you—? Could you wait for me to—”

Sarah reaches for the doorknob.

Malla’s hand makes it there first. Her expression is stone.

Bright clears his throat, then finishes lamely. “Er, yes. Hmm. We are going to kill you and steal your work now. Sorry.”

Penwood and Ambre freeze again, for very different reasons.

---

“Why do you want an arsenal so bad?!” Sarah cries as they run. “You’re clearly just as lethal with your bare fists!”

“Swords are pretty!” Ambre yells back, affronted. That’s all??

“Look!” Penwood points.

Just a few paces before them sits the building’s main elevator. Standing inside are a couple of terrified employees, one mashing the ‘close doors’ button.

“MOVE!!” Sarah, Penwood, and Ambre all shout in unison. The employees scream and flee instantly.

The three of them slide to a stop inside the newly-vacated elevator box. Ambre punches an actual hole through the ‘close doors’ button, unhelpfully. By some miracle, however, the doors do indeed close before Bright and his cronies can reach them.

“Let’s try the second floor,” Sarah whispers, just in case.

The lights go out completely, and a deafening, descending, analog noise obnoxiously announces a power outage.

“What was that?” Ambre hisses, the typically vivid amber of her scarf just barely visible in the dark.

“Some sort of lockdown,” Sarah groans. “They’ve cut the power on us.” She presses an elevator button fruitlessly to demonstrate. It makes a plastic clicking noise, but doesn’t light up.

“We’re trapped,” Penwood says, more bluntly.

It’s so quiet without the hum of electronics. On the other side of the door, they can hear all those armed Bright Industries employees talking to one another. This is bad. They’ll be found, sooner or later.

Ambre sounds like she’s moving around. Penwood audibly inhales like he’s going to tell her to be quiet, but she speaks first. “Come on,” Ambre whispers. “We can crawl into the elevator shaft.”

Sarah tries to find Penwood’s eyes in the darkness. Without anything to reflect off his glasses, he’s practically invisible. “Get going,” he tells her, unreadable when she can’t see him. “Better put some distance between us and Agent Smith, over there.”

“What?” Ambre breathes somewhere above them, missing the reference.

“It’s from the Matrix,” Penwood sighs. “Just go.”

---

“...Nice one, Chu,” he mutters a couple minutes later, squashed into the corner of the elevator shaft. You’d think a booming business like this could build wider elevators, damn. “We can kiss that dream budget goodbye thanks to—” He gestures at the blood on Ambre. “—all this.”

“Sorry for having scruples,” Sarah grumbles back. The adrenaline crash has left her disappointed and low. She’s stuck in close quarters with two people she’s quite upset at, currently, and she still can’t even see.

Ambre seems to lean over, audibly shuffling in place. “Are you mad at us, Sarah?” She seems younger than she is, like this, her voice disembodied and childish. Granted, Sarah really can’t vouch for her maturity, and that’s not even considering the child-rearing acumen of a top-secret, governmental, child-soldier factory.

When she thinks about that too hard, a buzzing sense of anxiety rises in her chest. Is she a hypocrite, for raising a stink about Talent technology restrictions while averting her eyes from the moral crisis of Ambre’s entire thirteen years of life?

“I’m kind of mad at you,” Sarah responds, curling tighter into a ball and clutching her suitcase like a blanket.

Ambre huffs unhappily.

“Mostly I’m mad at Penwood.”

He’s unbothered. “Great, ‘cause I’m mad at you too. We can all be mad at each other.”

He’s infuriating, sometimes. Sarah has never expected emotional heavy-lifting from Penwood, not even when they first met and she didn’t know him—he was her boss, after all. He was practical and unconventional enough to immediately promote her to the highest position he could bargain for, but it had nothing to do with sentiment. Though he seems to have grown fond of her over these past six years, he hasn’t changed. He’s as stubborn and selfish as ever.

“If I’m that troublesome, why not just let me get killed?” Sarah attacks, and then immediately regrets it. She sounds like a moody teenager. She sounds like his disregard for her objections hurt her. It’s true, but it’s pitiful.

Penwood seems to soften, just a bit. “You’re both troublesome, but I’d get bored if either of you died or disappeared. You’re more important than fully-funded mad science.” He says the last bit with reluctant resignation, but as a whole…

Those were pretty kind words, coming from Penwood. Sarah cracks a smile.

“Yeah,” she says, “you guys need me around to keep you in check.”

“Aww, I hate being in check,” Ambre sighs.

“So what now, kid?” Penwood asks. “You’re the one with the sense of propriety—you decide what we do next. We’re essentially blind, definitely trapped, and every single person in this building wants to track us down and kill us.”

Ambre grins. “The dead ones don’t. Want me to make them all dead?”

Penwood contemplates it.

“Not this time,” Sarah says, and her smile begins to grow as she gets to her feet. “I’ve got an idea.”

---

Sarah stands before the Power Room. The only thing between her and that plasma is a 20-character passcode and three feet of solid steel.

…That sounds more intimidating than it actually is.

Hey, the three of them made it out of that elevator shaft and down to the basement with zero tools!

A little clumsily, perhaps, but they made it down. Now they just need to get inside that room.

Sarah examines the digital lock, Penwood and Ambre hovering over her shoulders to watch. She doubts she’ll be able to guess the passcode, even if she did catch a glimpse when Sec. Malla let them in on the tour. She’s going to have to crack the mechanism open manually and determine a course of action from there.

“Ambre.” Sarah turns to her. “Help me with–”

“Wait.”

The three of them freeze.

“…Just let us do this,” Sarah pleads.

Secretary Sarah Malla offers no sympathy, dry and unforgiving. “What are you planning to do in the Power Room?” she asks.

“You know it’s not right to give this tech to people who might misuse it.” Sarah steps forward and Sec. Malla moves the gun in her direction. Ambre tenses, glances between them, and deliberately untenses. Sarah slows way down.

“When you say things like that, it makes you sound like a child,” Malla says. Sarah is quietly offended. She’s 23. “You think the government won’t misuse your technology? You think they aren’t misusing it right now?”

“I…”

No, she wants to say, I trust them. They’ve taken care of me since I was 17. But even without saying it aloud, suddenly the words don’t feel good enough.

“I’d still choose one group with scary-ass lasers over two.”

Sarah turns, surprised. Penwood ambles forward, hands in his pockets and genuinely pretty unconcerned by the gun. He sighs at her. “You’re catching flies, kid.” She closes her open mouth.

He continues. “The FHTC’s not perfect, but our boss is actually a total goody-two-shoes. It’s annoying, but in terms of—” He rolls his eyes and finger quotes. “—society’s ethics, she’s a decent person, I guess. And a hard worker.”

Sarah’s heart warms. He’s actually kind of getting it. He’s actually trying to help.

“Well! None of that matters to me,” Ambre chirps, “but Sarah is a grown-up woman! Don’t call her a child, she tries really hard to be responsible!” By the end of the sentence, her voice goes affronted on Sarah’s behalf, and she drops into a rare angry frown. “You’re a woman too, so you should know it’s annoying when people act like you don’t know anything while you’re trying to make a point.”

Malla stares at all of them, unwavering for one heartbeat, two. Then she stops aiming at them and lifts the pistol like she’s showing it off. It’s got the safety on, Sarah realizes. Malla was bluffing.

She sets the gun down and points at the door to the Power Room. “Don’t mess with the digital lock. If you input the wrong code or force it open, it’ll tase you.”

Sarah breaks into an incredulous laugh. Ambre is already grinning, and Penwood huffs in amusement. “So you’ll help us?” Sarah asks, just to be sure.

Malla shrugs, and a small, warm smile settles on her face. “We do have the same name,” she says.

Sarah’s cheeks hurt from smiling in return. “I suppose.”

---

A loud thud echoes through the chamber. Then again, and again. With a lot of repetitive effort, the main door finally slams open.

“Goodness, people!” Bright shouts, beaming angrily. “Take a little longer, why don’t you? How hard can it be to ram down a door?!”

“It’s three feet of solid, electrified steel,” a security guard points out.

“Regardless!”

A crowd of employees and guards swarm into the Power Room, sweeping through the aisles. Bright follows, dusting off his already immaculate suit. “Find Sarah Chu and her little friends,” he commands. “And for god’s sake, watch out for that red-haired gremlin! She’s ruthless!” He shudders.

“Hey, Bright!”

His head snaps up, and then his expression drops with dawning horror.

“How’s it going?”

“Now hold on…” Bright is sweating. “We can talk this out!”

Sarah’s jerry-rigged the control panel for the plasma vats. With one press of a button, the glass covers preventing their contents from ‘evaporating into the air and wasting a million dollars’ will pop open.

“I apologize for trying to kill you!” Bright calls to her, inanely. “Why don’t we renegotiate? I’d love to have you on my payroll, even now! And…and we would be very responsible with your technology, oh yes! Tell her, Malla!”

“He told me he wanted to make Talent suppressor water-guns,” Malla says. “For the youth.™”

“I never said that!” Bright lies. “Listen, I don’t think you understand how much money we’re willing to offer you! You could do anything you wanted! No rules, no restrictions, no one standing in your way. You’d be set for life; your great-great-great grandchildren would be set for life! You don’t need to worry about anyone else!”

Penwood and Ambre listen to his speech, open-mouthed. Of course they would; as much as they care about Sarah on a personal level, Bright’s pitching them their wildest dreams. But this decision isn’t up to them, it’s up to her.

They may be selfish, but Penwood made things clear—they like her better than mad-science and power trips.

And that sort of selfishness is just fine with her.

“No one’s forcing me to worry about people,” Sarah calls down. “No one’s forcing me to worry about anything! And all those rules and restrictions, they don’t bother me. If they make the world a better place, why would I have a problem?”

“They…!” Bright sputters. “They make the world a boring place! They make it a safe place! Don’t you understand, Ms. Chu?!”

“Yeah, better than you!” Sarah yells. “And that’s Doctor Chu!!”

She pushes the button.

Bright clutches at his skull, gibbering in disbelief while his employees freeze at the loss of guidance. Ambre laughs and tries to grab at the mist like a child. Penwood sighs, grumpy as usual, but he watches the air glow with a sort of wonder. Malla nudges Sarah’s arm.

“Hey. Is this stuff going to poison us?”

Sarah chuckles, “Probably not!”

“How reassuring.”

The air is still purple as the four of them descend to the main floor. Bright is scrambling, trying to push the glass covers back into place, for all the good they’ll do now.

“You…” He turns to Sarah, his expression the utter picture of despair. “Look what you’ve done. I’ll— I’ll sue you! I’ll ruin your life! You’ll be fired!!”

Sarah crosses her arms. “Of course I won’t,” she huffs. “You literally tried to kill me.”

The words seem to spark something in him, and Bright lunges for a nearby guard’s holster. He shoves the gun right in her face, hand shaking with rage, and Sarah’s stomach drops into her feet.

If moments like this move in slow-mo on TV, Sarah realizes that in real life, they’re like a blur. She catches glimpses, Penwoods hair in front of her, his elbow jabbing into her side on accident. Ambre’s hand outstretched, close to the barrel, about to throw his aim up to the ceiling.

Before Bright can fire, however, a raised voice gives him pause.

“When you called me, Chu, I can admit I was hoping to discover that the mess you three have landed yourselves in was the result of a misunderstanding. Clearly, my hopes have been dashed.”

All of them turn. Framed in the main doorway is Miriam Bosser, the head of the science division, and Sarah, Penwood, and Ambre’s direct supervisor.

The goody-two-shoes.

“Stand down, Brandon Bright,” Miriam says. From behind her, FHTC officers file into the room, and the Bright employees quickly surrender their weapons.

“This is…ridiculous,” Bright wheezes, the gun dropping from his hand. Sarah spares it a glance, then does a double-take. Oh yeah, he’s an idiot. It’s got the safety on.

Malla sets a hand on Bright’s shoulder. He stares up at her, pleading, like she can summon up a miracle and fix the disaster he caused.

“Mr. Bright,” Malla says. “I resign.”

Bright’s head drops down in defeat.

It’s over.

---

“You are not getting off scot free,” Miriam says sternly. “Not this time.”

The chaos is settling down. Sarah’s heart rate has returned to normal. Ambre is back to being bored. All in a day’s work!

“Sure, sure,” Penwood says, obnoxiously. “Just give us a slap on the wrist and let us get back to work.”

“I don’t think you realize the magnitude of this screw-up,” Miriam insists. “Bright Industries is our main supplier of Talent Plasma, and guess what they no longer have any stock of? Crale is going to rip my head off for allowing you three to run around unsupervised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sarah asks, offended.

“You’re like children. When the three of you join together, the results are explosive. You’re the black sheep of the FHTC. If you weren’t so important, we’d have fired you—”

“Okay! Damn, that’s harsh!”

Miriam sighs. “My head is going to be ripped off.”

“Sorry for being so troublesome!”

“Don’t apologize.” Penwood grins. “You talk a big game, but you like rushing into danger as much as me and Ambre do. That’s why Miriam’s lumping you in with us.”

“That’s silly,” Sarah sputters. “I do not like danger!”

“You were the one who wanted to destroy all that plasma,” Ambre muses, “instead of running away.”

“I just—!”

Miriam’s eyes laser in on Sarah. “Is this true?” she asks, low and dangerous.

Sarah freezes. No other choice. She turns and runs. “Maybe-it’s-true-but-you-can’t-judge-me-I-was-under-duress-okay-see-you-later!!”

“Sarah Chu!” Miriam yells after her. “Get back here! You are actively being troublesome right now!”

It’s easy to forget her worries, with Ambre and Penwood cackling and the wind in her face and the adrenaline of the day still simmering under her skin. It’s easy to ignore the questions she faced and the answers she couldn’t give.

When you say things like that, it makes you sound like a child. You think the government won’t misuse your technology? You think they aren’t misusing it right now?

Hey, she said it herself! Sarah isn’t the most righteous person in the world.

Eventually, she’ll have no choice but to face herself. She isn’t quite sure what she’ll do, when that day comes. Will she run away again? Will it be right to run?

In the meantime, a few more mistakes can’t hurt.

---

Later that month, Sarah will have her first encounter with her dream girl. …Maybe her nightmare girl. How ironic!

Well, she does like danger.

Arc 2.5

((Are you surprised? Well here we are, the first TDL short has finally arrived! After this will come the second, centered on the Defectors: Ambre, Sarah, and Penwood, and then Talent de Lune will be back in full. Before you hop into this story, a foreword.

It's decently long, about 5k words. Contains a TON of references to TDL Chapters 10, 11, and 12. There is past child abuse implied in the latter half, and the narrator briefly spirals into self-criticism at a point prior to that. But the end is sweet! Take care while reading.))

---

Contrary to his expectations, Fae is settling into life at Talent de Dal. Like, really settling in. To the point where Jupiter, Aidyn, and Eight are starting to give him responsibilities and work to do.

Today marks the two-month anniversary of his arrival at Talent de Dal. Him and the other eleven ex-gladiators, that is. Everyone celebrated their one-month anniversary as well, and it was so awkward for Fae that he had to stand in the corner while Aidyn tried to coax him out with cake. Now, as October begins, Fae has gotten comfortable enough for Eight to request his help in setting up the celebration. It’s going to be bittersweet this time, because some of the gladiators are leaving for Spia.

Hermes—no, Aulani—told Fae about it last week. She’s talkative, even with him, the antisocial one who’d been scheduled to punch someone’s lights out every other week. Most of the other gladiators are skittish around him, and for good reason, he was the most intimidating fighter among them and he’d been the one to haze them upon their initiation to the Colosseum. Aulani has always been friendly, though. They’d been matched up against each other often enough that maybe she’d just gotten used to him.

She caught Fae in the greenhouse—a place he’d grown fond of—to tell him the news.

Rocky, Thunder, and Lightbender respectively, as Fae had known them before. Fae had hazed all of them but Matt, who’d been a gladiator the longest. Matt had always seemed old…if you could call 26 old. But to Fae—who’d been 17 when he was conscripted, and the rest of them—who hovered around 20 with a few young outliers Fae didn’t know all that well, Matt was their wise senior.

Aulani elaborated. “We’re gonna hitch a ride on Rivergirl’s soul-stream next Saturday.”

“She can transport physical bodies?”

“Only on Saturdays,” Aulani said cheekily, and she winked. Fae didn’t know much about Rivergirl, who talked kind of like a hippy and hung out with Eight—an activity that consisted mostly of them sitting in her room listening to records that played ‘Awesomesauce Ocean Sounds’. But Rivergirl had a Talent that worked like teleportation when it wasn’t just astral projection, and that was helpful when TDD members needed to travel without the risk of crossing state lines unauthorized.

“We’re going to Spia,” Aulani said, “so we’ll say hi to Talent de Lune real quick. Max worked things out so we’ll have a place to stay and a job if we can’t find either of those things on our own.”

Fae had only known Max for about a day or so, but Jupiter, Aidyn, and Eight talked so much that he could now tell you Max’s favorite movie, favorite song, and favorite food—mole chichilo he had in Oaxaca when he was 5. The recipe was a secret and he’s never managed to recreate it or find a restaurant that makes it the exact same way. Just send him lofthouse cookies instead, he’s not so picky about that and they’re his guilty pleasure.

“I’m surprised to hear Zacharie is going,” Fae admitted. “I thought he hated traveling.”

Aulani laughed. “He does. But Matt wanted to look for his old friend and I wanted to see more of the world, so he said he’d come. He’s gonna be a grump about it, probably. Did you ever meet Matt’s friend? She was retired before I got kidnapped, so I never did, but you were there before me.”

Fae shook his head. He was pretty sure they’d never crossed paths—Matt had always seemed lonely, even when Fae first met him. But there had been so many gladiators sent away and exchanged when the crowds got bored of them or they were badly hurt in a fight; it was all a blur. Fae wasn’t sure.

He refocused. “Zacharie is leaving because you’re leaving?”

Aulani’s cheeks darkened. “Yeah,” she said, smiling fondly. “He and I… Well, recently, we’ve gotten…close, you know?”

Fae flustered and looked away. Oh. He hadn’t known that.

“I know it’s too early and we should focus on our own personal recoveries and journeys and all that,” Aulani rambled, even though Fae hadn’t said anything. “I know. But, like…” She blushed further, throwing up her hands. “He gets me.”

“I don’t think it’s too early,” Fae said.

Aulani stared at him, eyes wide. Then she smiled, bright and mischievous. “I see,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You and Aidyn, I think you make a cute couple—”

“We are not a couple,” Fae snapped, ears burning. “We don’t— We’re not a couple.”

“So, you and Eight…?”

“No.”

“Jupiter?”

“No.” He grimaced, locking eyes with the ground. He was on fire. “No, I’m not… I’m not.”

Aulani gasped. “All three?”

“No!”

She laughed. “I’m just teasing you. But, you know…I think it could happen. Jupiter and Eight and Aidyn, they seem like…hmm. What’s the word? Poly…something? Anyway, I think you’d fit in with them. I think they like you differently than they like everyone else.”

Fae rubbed at his face, still warm. “No, I… No, it’s not different. That isn’t true. They wouldn’t…like me.”

Aulani’s smile turned a little sad. “Give it a try, at least. Ask them about it.”

He didn’t respond.

Aulani offered him a hug, and Fae froze up before incrementally relaxing into it. “You’re likable,” she asserted. “Have some confidence.”

How?

Aulani squeezed him and then let go, patting his shoulders with finality. “Okay!” she said. “Give it a try.”

Fae didn’t know what else to do, so he nodded.

---

Eight greets him in the dining hall with open arms and a huge smile.

“Hi, Eight.” Unable to escape the usual bear hug—and largely unwilling, Fae pats them on the back and waits. Eight’s hugs are always warm, like they’ve been waiting to see him forever and they’re so glad he’s finally here. It’s a little embarrassing how nice that is.

“What’s the temperature today?” Eight asks, a twinkle in their 20-sided die-eyes. This close to them, Fae can read ‘outlook good’, though his vision is mediocre on the left and worse on the right.

“I suppose it…feels like a ‘boy’ day, potentially,” Fae fumbles out. Eight offered him pronoun pins in his first week at TDD because he gets weird about bracelets and necklaces these days, weird about things someone could use to hold onto him, but Fae usually forgets to wear them. Eight took no offense, and in fact told him conspiratorially, “My eyesight’s bad anyway. I probably wouldn’t have been able to tell which pin you were wearing unless I got close like this.” Then they leaned in to jokingly stare at Fae’s chest, and Fae spooked and accidentally elbowed them in the chin.

These days, he doesn’t startle so much when people get close to him, but the only ones who don’t need to ask permission first are Aidyn, Eight, and Jupiter. Fae refuses to examine this.

“Wonderful!” Eight cheers, because they’re the sort of person who says ‘wonderful’ unironically. “I’m feeling kind of femme right now. We’re like a pair!” It wouldn’t be a very charming thing to hear from anyone else, but it’s charming when coming from Eight. Fae blushes and can’t hold back a smile.

They’re the first person Fae’s ever been able to talk gender with. It’s nice.

The two of them get to work. “What do you think, darling?” Eight asks, a few minutes in. “Red streamers, purple streamers, or blue streamers. Maybe all three?”

Fae chuckles, still blushing for no discernible reason. “Don’t get greedy,” he quips.

“No!” Eight cries dramatically, like the streamers mean something. “It’s not greedy to accept what you deserve if someone’s offering it.”

“Tri-colored streamers?”

“Yes,” Eight says, smiling nervously. Fae swears their cheeks are darkening. “And balloons! And cake! Everyone deserves streamers and cake.”

It feels like Fae’s missed something obvious. He tries to push past the atmosphere. “Magic Eight.” He beckons them closer. They obey without thinking.

Eight is a couple inches taller than Fae, but it feels like they’re looking up at him. A little awkward, Fae looks into their eyes. “Should we hang up all three streamers?”

Eight is definitely blushing. ‘Ask again later,’ their eyes say.

---

Spider asked for help with her hair, the other day. Though the two of them are somewhat awkward with each other, Fae volunteered to assist.

All of them have already spent two months at Talent de Dal, but Spider still hasn’t told anyone her name. When Jupiter asked her in the beginning, Spider smiled obliquely and explained that she was not all that fond of the one I had before being plucked up by the Colosseum. ‘Spider’ isn’t very classy, but for now it does the job. I’ll let you know if that changes.

Fae knew a thing or two about not being fond of your name. The one he’d used before his captivity had also been ill fitting. ‘Fae’ had been an alternative he’d contemplated, one he’d never said aloud in more than a whisper to himself before Aidyn came around. Now it was just his name, and he liked that.

They met on the second floor balcony, overlooking the pool and neatly blanketed by the shadow of the clay roof tiles. It was starting to get colder, so there weren’t many people in the water. Fae found himself squinting and considering the possibility that the colorful blur floating on an inner tube-shaped blur was Rivergirl.

Sipping a soda on the lounge chair, Spider had an actual hammock attached to her hair.

She’d taken up hobbies of knitting, weaving, and the like to deal with its speedy and unmanageable growth. Like bamboo, Eight had suggested once, and Spider had laughed brightly, as she so rarely did.

Fae greeted her and helped her tie off the loose ends before cutting it near her collarbone. Spider sighed with relief and shook her head. “It’s so light when it’s this short. But tomorrow, it’ll be halfway down my back.”

Feeling equal parts sympathetic and out of line, Fae asked, “Is there anything you can do to keep it from growing?”

“Do you remember that boy from Talent de Lune, the one with the nullification Talent? The girl with all the arms had this bracelet of his braided hair, and it could suppress her Talent when she needed to be inconspicuous. I didn’t know about it until after they left. C'est la vie!”

Fae nodded and bundled up the hammock for something to do.

Spider sighed and rested her chin on her hand. “Before all this, I had really nice hair.”

Fae blinked up at her.

“Well, it was hard to manage,” she clarifies. “Some strands were coiled very tightly, and others were much less so. But I was very good at working with it, and I had an excellent sense of style.” Spider sighed again, wistfully. “Now I’ve got straight, boring silk.” She gestured at her hair.

Fae assumed most people would consider pink silk anything but boring, but picturing how Spider might’ve looked in the past had him shockingly sad at the thought that he’d never see her like that in reality.

“And anyway, those Talent suppressor cuffs they made use of back at the Colosseum never returned my hair to normal, so I don’t have high hopes for that Talent de Lune boy either.” Spider shrugged. “There are things you lose that you can never get back. But it’s pointless to get hung up on the pointless.” With an enigmatic smile, she took the hammock from Fae’s limp hands and left the balcony.

---

Once Fae is done helping Eight, they send him off to Jupiter. Apparently, she needs him as a taste-tester.

She’s waiting for him in the communal kitchen, eying the door and standing in front of the food-covered counter like she can keep all the dishes a surprise if she stretches out her arms far enough. Jupiter is 5’4” and stocky; even if such a thing was possible, she could never manage it. Instead of coming off as silly or immature, Fae’s first thought is cute. Argh.

She relaxes when she realizes that the kitchen intruder is only him. “Good, you’re here. I need you to try this.”

Jupiter’s curt as ever. For a while, that intimidated Fae. Stoicism tends to remind them of their father, a man they are loath to think about. In darker moments, Fae can only see it as an inherited trait, and they gravitate toward brighter, more expressive people as a result. Obviously, Jupiter is an exception to that rule. Underneath the flat affect, she’s generous and awkward and passionate. She lives in the moment and never holds grudges. It’s so contrary to Fae’s instinct that they find themself captivated.

Jupiter picks up a bowl of what looks to be frosting. Beside her is an unfrosted cake. She takes a spoonful and passes it to Fae. “Tell me what you think.”

Fae pops the spoon into their mouth and savors the flavor. The very sweet flavor. …Maybe too sweet. They suppress the urge to wrinkle their nose as best they can. It’s not their place to criticize.

Jupiter is watching them closely. “How is it?” she insists.

“Good,” Fae lies.

She frowns nervously. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Me and Eight and Aidyn made this together. None of us are very good cooks, and we’re worse bakers. We just followed a recipe online. You have to tell me if it’s bad, I can’t figure it out on my own.” Buzzing with anxiety despite her calm expression, Jupiter clenches her fingers on the frosting bowl till her knuckles go white. “This isn’t a question where you read between the lines. I want you to answer me honestly, I won’t take offense if it’s bad. I’m really, seriously asking for your advice, Fae.”

Another thing Fae likes about Jupiter—she always says exactly what she means. After years of tip-toeing around their own home and months of combing through Heele’s vague jokes and slang for underlying instructions, it’s a breath of fresh air. Sometimes, Fae falls back into old habits. But Jupiter always reminds them to trust her.

“…Excessively sweet,” Fae admits. “The frosting, that is. I’d say it’s suitable, but only if Talent de Dal is made up entirely of people with kindergartener-level taste buds.”

Jupiter doesn’t smile, but she looks relieved. “Oh, thank goodness,” she breathes out. “You’re so reliable, Fae. Thank you for telling me. I knew something was off. Maybe we need to add more citrus…”

The rest of her words fade out as Fae’s mind replays the important ones again and again. You’re so reliable, Fae. Thank you for telling me. You’re so reliable.

They hide their burning cheeks by offering to search for a lemon.

Once the two of them have adjusted the flavor to a reasonable balance, they frost the cake together. It’s nice, calming. Maybe Fae should take up baking. After they’re done, Jupiter takes a picture and dutifully sends it to the group chat between her, Eight, Aidyn, and Fae themself, then to Max. They get varied responses—a barrage of heart emojis from Eight with one bizarro accidental gorilla emoji, the critique of a well-seasoned baker from Max, luckily culminating in approval, and Aidyn doesn’t even see the message yet.

“Is there anything else you need help with?” Fae asks.

Jupiter takes a moment to think. Realization dawns subtly on her face, a widening of the eyes. “I forgot,” she says. “There’s something important I have to ask you.”

Fae’s heartbeat goes from resting to a million miles per hour in the span of two seconds.

Trying not to explode with how hot their face is getting, they clear their throat. “Go ahead.” There’s a yearning in their heart, a reflection of Aulani’s words—I think you’d fit in with them. I think they like you differently than they like everyone else—and Eight’s eyes—It’s not greedy to accept what you deserve if someone’s offering it. Ask again later—and even further back, what Aidyn said to them the night they first met and everything changed.

…Your smile is pretty cute.

I like seeing your eyes.

We can figure…everything out later.

Jupiter takes a deep breath. Fae holds theirs.

“Remember when you told me about your younger sister?” Jupiter asks. “Yesterday, we found her. We have her email. Do you want to talk to her?”

All the warmth drains out of them. Fae turns to ice and their Talent breaks three stacks of ceramic plates in half.

…They should’ve known. They got their hopes up impractically, and reality hit hard and completely unexpected. Fae has always known to prepare for the worst instead of the best, but these past two months have blunted their cynicism and lured them back into all those old, childish expectations they thought they’d grown out of.

They should’ve known. After all…

There are things you lose that you can never get back.

It’s pointless to get hung up on the pointless.

What a fool they are.

“Fae?” Jupiter is staring at them with one of her unreadable expressions. They shake themself out of their stupor and answer her.

“No. I doubt she’d be happy to hear from me.”

Jupiter falls silent and Fae walks away, leaving spiderweb-crack footprints with every step.

---

That night is the anniversary party. Jupiter, Eight, and Aidyn are busy with all the usual hosting business, so Fae stands in the corner and tries to be unnoticeable enough to keep anyone from coaxing them out with cake. Talent de Dal’s members interplay and bounce off each other like beams of light, like projections, unreal and happy. Fae finds themself reconsidering their previous line of thought—the effects of their time at TDD cannot be solely negative, not with their fellow ex-gladiators  smiling so contentedly and engaging with each other with such ease. Maybe Fae leaps too quickly to the worst possible conclusions. Or maybe cynicism should be their burden and theirs alone.

Maybe Jupiter wanted to clear the air before confessing her feelings. Or maybe it really is too early to look for romance.

…Maybe they should talk to their sister.

Later, once everyone has thoroughly enjoyed the cake and gone to bed, Tasha finds Fae in the greenhouse.

“Hey, so…” Tasha runs a nervous hand through her glowing hair. “Are you okay? You were, like, really quiet at the party tonight.”

“You don’t have to do this.”

Tasha flinches at their tone and Fae tries to gentle it, as impossible as that feels, currently. “I know it’s uncomfortable for you to talk to me,” they say. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, and you shouldn’t feel guilty when you walk away.”

Tasha’s mouth twitches; she stares at the ground and takes a deep breath. Fae turns back to the plants and waits for her to leave.

Fae whips around, stunned at her sudden grit.

“You’re totally putting words in my mouth. Can you let me speak before assuming I’m uncomfortable and forcing myself to be here? I mean, like, now I’m uncomfortable, but that’s just ‘cause you’re being kind of rude.”

Fae blushes. Oh. That’s exactly what they were doing. How embarrassing. They duck their head and choke out, “I’m sorry.”

Tasha sighs. “And you don’t have to say sorry like I’m gonna smack you. Jeez, you always act like I’m the one scared of you, but I think it’s really the other way around.”

Still a bit flustered, Fae glances up at her. “You…aren’t afraid of me?”

“No. Why would I be?”

“Because…” they stutter out. “Because I… I hurt you. I was cold. I acted like I was b-better than you. I acted— I acted like you deserved to be in pain for trying to run away.”

Tasha cocks her head to one side. “Um, Fae…” she says softly, a wrinkle of concern in her brow. “I never really thought of it that way.”

Huh?

Fae is lost. Is there…any other way to think of it??

“You were in a bad situation and you tried to, like, teach me how you survived it,” Tasha says. “So when I didn’t want to do that, you lashed out.”

“But…no, I…” That can’t be right. Fae has to take responsibility for their actions, don’t they? Isn’t that the problem?

Tasha shrugs and combs through her hair again. “Sure, I got hurt, but I don’t think it was anyone’s fault? I mean, obviously it was Heele’s fault, and everyone who went to those horrible matches, but not you, and not me.” She looks Fae in the eyes. “You get that…right?”

Fae wraps their arms around themself. …It’s almost unthinkable. They sigh shakily, “Tai, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”

Tasha’s expression flickers into utter confusion. “Uh…” She laughs incredulously. “Who’s Tai?”

“I…” Fae whispers. “She’s…my little sister.”

Tasha blinks cluelessly. “Oh! I didn’t know you had a sibling. I guess our names are similar, huh?” She giggles. “Are our personalities similar? You know I’m older than you, right?”

Despite everything, Fae laughs.

…It’s a relief.

“Yeah, I guess you are,” they chuckle.

---

The next morning, before lunch, everyone gathers to see their friends off. Aulani, Matt, Zacharie, and Tasha have packed their things, and they talk excitedly—well, maybe not so excited in Zacharie’s case—about the next steps they’ll be embarking on. Spider and Fae and the rest of the ex-gladiators are there to say goodbye. Jupiter, Eight, and Aidyn are there to remind them that they’ll always have TDD’s full support. Rivergirl is just there for the transportation soul-stream. A lot of hugs are exchanged.

Then, the time comes, and Rivergirl gathers Aulani, Matt, Zacharie, and Tasha up in her arms. “Alright, my dudes,” she says, swaying them back and forth. “You’re about to experience the most radical ride of your lives. Can you dig it?”

“Sorry?” Aulani asks.

“She’s asking if we’re good to go,” Zacharie sighs.

“Can! You! Dig it?!” Rivergirl whoops.

“Yes we can!” Tasha cheers.

She’s insane, Zacharie mouths to Aulani.

As expected, their departure is bittersweet. Fae is surprised to find he’s a little sad to see his ex-cellmates go. It’s true, they were never all that close, but they lived through the same horrors together. That has to count for something.

And so, as awkward as it feels, Fae waves to his friends as they leave.

After a silent moment, the remnants of their group start to make their way back to the TDD base. Fae turns to follow them, but he doesn’t make it more than a couple steps. Aidyn calls out to him.

---

They sit in the shade of the treeline, enjoying the early fall breeze. Aidyn told Jupiter and Eight to return to the base, that he and Fae would hang back to wait for Rivergirl’s return. It’s a pleasant morning, but the air tastes like anticipation.

Fae gathers up their courage. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Right!” Aidyn scratches at the back of his head, bashfully. “So…I heard that yesterday, Jupi brought up your sister. Are you doing okay?”

Fae’s stomach sours a bit at the reminder, but they don’t feel nearly so low, this time. “I’m fine,” they answer honestly, shrugging.

“But not great?”

Fae frowns, but relents. “…No, not great.”

“You know…” Aidyn shifts in place. “You don’t have to talk to her if your relationship is strained. Or maybe you just don’t want to. There are a lot of us who’ve cut contact with our families, more than you’d think. No one would judge you.”

“Is that the case for you?” Fae asks, genuinely curious. “What about Jupiter and Eight?”

Aidyn barks out a wry laugh. “They cut contact with me!”

Misstep. This is a sore topic. “You don’t have to—”

“No, no, you’re all good.” Aidyn softens instantly. “I’m… It’s easy to joke and avoid things when they make you uncomfortable. Sometimes you just think about it all so much that you need a break. But, well…” He laughs again, self-deprecating. “I guess, for someone who calls their Talent ‘Converse’, I’m not all that great at communicating.”

“I think you’re pretty great,” Fae says quietly.

The vitiligo turns Aidyn’s blush multi-colored, and it is unfairly distracting.

“…Well, Jupi doesn’t talk to her family either.” Aidyn recenters himself. “And I think Eight is still in touch with theirs, but I’m not sure. We don’t really mention this stuff when we’re around each other.”

“Maybe you should,” Fae says tentatively. Aidyn’s eyes drop to the ground; he seems doubtful.

They press on. “My sister’s name is Taisha. I’ve always called her Tai.”

Aidyn stares at them.

“She’s three years younger than me. Fifteen, right now, but she’ll be sixteen soon. I should wish her a happy birthday, because she was always so excited for this one. In movies, every girl wants a big ‘Sweet Sixteen’.”

“Yeah,” Aidyn says, like he’s nearly too focused on them to speak.

“My dad was self-absorbed and cold, so I had to raise myself and Tai. Mom died when we were young, and I’m fairly sure he didn’t like thinking about her. Tai took after her, so he generally ignored her. But I took after my dad, so we argued. We argued a lot.”

Under Aidyn’s unwavering attention, it feels like it’s okay to continue.

“Even though we fought, I think that deep down, my dad almost respected me. He felt like he was raising me right because I was stubborn and I had a temper. Like he was raising me into…” Their stomach twists. “A man. Just like himself.”

Aidyn reaches out, and Fae holds his hand. It’s nice.

“So that’s why our first big blow-up fight came around when he learned that Tai would let me try on her dresses.”

“That sucks,” Aidyn whispers. It’s ineloquent, but that’s part of the reason Fae likes him. Sometimes, the most straightforward words are the ones you need to hear.

“I was so mad,” Fae admits, “I just wanted to break something. And then, I— My Talent—”

“That’s when you got it?” Aidyn asks, eyes wide.

Fae nods, trying to ignore how red-hot their face feels. “I took down our entire house. Completely leveled. I dragged Tai outside, but our dad was left behind. I don’t know if he even made the connection; it’s possible he just thought there was an earthquake. But he was still inside when everything came down, and for a second, I wasn’t even upset. ‘Serves you right,’ I thought.”

They exhale shakily. “But Tai cried. And she went back to try and move the rubble, even though dad had never done anything kind for her in his entire life. And then…I got mad at her as well.”

“People started coming by. I realized what I was doing and I knew I had to leave. I…didn’t want to break my little sister.”

It surprises Fae, how quickly tears spring to their eyes in that moment. Usually, their emotions build and build and they teeter on the verge of crying for a long time. This feels less painful. More like letting go of the pain you never realized you were clutching so tightly. Like crying at a poignant movie scene. It’s not so bad.

They wipe their eyes without letting go of Aidyn’s hand. “I was on my own until Heele found me. You know the rest from there.”

“Hey,” Aidyn squeezes their hand. “Fae? I don’t think you’re self-absorbed. Or cold. And you might have a temper, but you’re working on it. I think you’re a really good person.”

Fae holds their breath against the instinct to deny him. “I’m trying to be a better me,” they allow. “A kinder me. A healthier me. A happier me. More like myself. So…I’m glad you think I’m succeeding.” They fail to hold back a smile. “Thanks.”

Aidyn smiles back at them, so warmly the whole world feels softer. “I should be thanking you. Maybe…we could all stand to open up more, like you said. Your advice is always the best. You’re so reliable, Fae.”

The words are familiar. Fae flusters.

“And speaking of opening up…” Aidyn’s smile turns nervous, and his face grows redder and redder. “There’s something Jupiter and Eight and I have been trying to ask you. It’s just— The timing has never been—”

“I’m listening now,” Fae says, and the butterflies in their stomach are climbing up their chest. “Try me.”

Aidyn sits up straight, takes in a deep breath. His cheeks are the same color as his hair, but he looks like he’s placed a bet and he’s liking his odds. “Fae. All three of us care about you…a lot. Would you be willing… Have you ever heard of—?”

…Of course. The timing is never right. And yet, Fae feels so light and happy that they can’t help laughing. The glow in Aidyn’s eyes, the way he’s looking at them, it feels like a winning bet. An affirmative 8-Ball answer. A homemade cake.

Fae is still growing, and it might be too early, but…

They think they’ll talk to their sister.

⭐

“Turn on the TV! Let's watch STAR GIRL!”

Did I make a trailer for my own comic? YES. I'm here to hype myself up!

Anyways, I will soon be posting the full, fantastic STAR GIRL pdf here on patreon. Also on Itch.io, but it'll be here first.

⭐

Yes, it is happening.

After nearly a whole year, I've finally finished STAR GIRL! I got very hung up on the coloring style, but I'm finally satisfied with it. (Sometimes less is more.) All I want to do now is make a sort of promo trailer for it. That shouldn't take too long, seeing as I have a lot of free time right now. So look forward to this thing releasing sometime soon!

Here's one last promo poster. I wonder if it's easy to guess the reference, or if my take is too far removed from the source?

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(The source being Neon Genesis Evangelion.)

Update!

As of just recently, I finished my work on the graphic novel I have coming out next year! That means more TDL coming soon, along with more miscellaneous content in general. I don't have a specific return date for TDL yet, but I'm pretty confident it'll be sometime this month. For now, have another short story preview!

---

“I don’t think it’s too early,” Fae said.

Aulani stared at him, eyes wide. Then she smiled, bright and mischievous. “I see,” she giggled.

“What?”

“You and Aidyn, I think you make a cute couple—”

“We’re not a couple,” Fae snapped, ears burning. “We don’t— We’re not a couple.”

“So, you and Eight…?”

“No.”

“Jupiter?”

“No.” He grimaced, locking eyes with the ground. He was on fire. “No, I’m not… I’m not.”

Aulani gasped. “All three?”

“No!”