#//but a 'fresh' start is probably good for my own sake

[adverbally]

Keep Me Coming Back for More

Written for the @steddie-spooktober day ten prompt “orchard” | wc: 865 | rated: M | cw: none | tags: fluff, anniversary, long-term relationship, vacation, implied/referenced sexual content | title from “Heaven” by Bryan Adams

———

The Apple Orchard Inn is a quaint bed and breakfast, nestled in the mountains to give its guests a breathtaking view of four acres of fruit trees across the valley. Not just apples, but pears and cherries, ready to be picked by adventurous visitors or to be made into jams and preserves and all manner of delicious baked goods for people to buy at the reception desk.

As the less outdoorsy of the two of them, Eddie had been skeptical of Steve’s chosen locale from the start. “That’s the only activity they have? Wandering around and providing free labor for the orchard?” he had complained. “And we’re supposed to drag that into a three-night stay?”

Steve hadn’t taken it personally, knowing Eddie would see the beauty of the inn and be forced to eat his words. He was right, as usual— Eddie had stood in front of their private cottage, complete with a porch swing and a great view of the trout pond up by the main house, and immediately been struck dumb.

Now, on their last night, Eddie stands on the back porch overlooking the valley and breathes in the fresh, fragrant air. He doesn’t want to leave. He already misses the quiet trickle of the stream that runs behind their cottage, the sweet smell of fresh fruit, the sight of Steve wrapped in one of Eddie’s flannels with his face turned up into the mid-autumn sunshine. Even the hike around the orchards, which Eddie had suffered for Steve’s sake, was now a fond memory of their anniversary trip. Three days of peace with the man he loves more than life itself, laughing and kissing and pressing together like they can’t get close enough.

“Hey,” Steve greets, stepping out the backdoor with a fluffy green bathrobe over his favorite flannel pajamas. He’s carrying two steaming mugs of tea, a delicious cinnamon blend made here at the inn, and his hair is still dripping and fogging up his glasses with the residual warmth from the shower.

Eddie accepts the mug he’s given and pulls Steve closer with an arm around his waist. They lean against the porch railing and soak in the sight of the stars. They’re bright out here, tucked away in the mountains far from the nearest city, lighting up the valley with their glow.

“You did really good with this one,” Eddie murmurs. “Sorry I was such a dick about it.”

Steve chuckles. “I knew you’d come around as soon as you saw it. The porch swing alone—”

“I’m building a porch swing for our house as soon as we get back,” he enthuses. “It’s gonna be awesome.”

They fall back into comfortable silence, listening to the flower bushes rustling in the breeze and the laughter of a couple walking up the pathway to their own cottage.

“Ten years,” Steve sighs into his mug. “Hard to believe we’ve been together so long.”

“Our relationship is almost old enough to go to middle school,” Eddie jokes, even as he catches Steve’s hand on the railing and laces their fingers together. Turning serious, he admits, “I don’t think I could’ve imagined being in a relationship this long before I met you. Hell, I probably wouldn’t have thought I’d be alive this long.”

Steve shivers, more at the reminder of Eddie’s mortality than the evening chill. “I thought I’d, you know, be married with kids and all that by now. But then I wouldn’t have you, so I’m glad that didn’t work out.” His smile is small and crooked as he holds out his mug in a toast. “Here’s to ten more years of you ruining all my plans.”

“To ten more years of you doing all the planning for both of us!” Eddie declares, clinking their mugs together.

Before Steve can take a sip, Eddie pulls him in for a long, tender kiss. He feels Steve fumble to sit his mug on the ledge of the railing, freeing his hands to cradle Eddie’s cheeks. They’ve had their share of kisses over the past few days, from quick pecks beneath the apple trees to filthy exchanges of spit preceding a good hard fuck, but this is the one that makes Eddie’s knees weak. Steve tastes like spiced tea and a hint of toothpaste, and his body is a solid line of warmth pressed up against Eddie’s, and he’s taking his time to explore Eddie’s mouth like he hasn’t already done it millions of times over the past decade. It’s kind of blowing Eddie’s mind.

Breaking away with a gasp, Eddie is a little hoarse when he suggests, “How about we go defile another set of sheets?”

“Are you trying to get us banned for life?” Steve’s grin betrays his eagerness.

“I’ll hand wash them myself in the tub before we leave tomorrow, scout’s honor. Housekeeping never has to know.”

“Smart and good at laundry? I knew I kept you around for something,” Steve teases, leaning in for another kiss.

Eddie mumbles against his lips, “Don’t forget my massive dick.”

Steve’s delighted cackle echoes through the valley, but it’s for Eddie’s ears only when he whispers, “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Happy anniversary, baby.”

[redcoralpot]

Smudged - Rodrick Heffley x FTM! Reader

Summary: Rodrick had been chasing after Heather for a year, now, even after ruining her birthday party. Chicks dig bad boys, right? However, one day, he stumbles upon a family member that even he didn't know she had, one that awakens a part of him that he didn't know existed.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3.3K

Notes: I had to fight Google Docs to finish this. AHHHHHHHHHH

-

The sun beat down on your arms, with rough concrete scratching your palms. Your ankles were dipped into the pool, a cool feeling enveloping them, and you used this to your advantage. A pink pool doughnut floated past, manipulated by the soft waves coming from other visitors, and you reached a foot out of the water with a splash! 

“What the hell!” Heather shrieked, attempting to paddle away from you. “Don’t get your toe-water on me, freak!”

“Like I care,” you snickered, raising your foot to do it again.

“You’re going to start caring when I dump your eyeliner in the toilet!”

A pout tugged on your lips, “Hey, now, that’s going a little far, don’t you think?”

“Like I care,” she sneered, rolling her eyes.

 The threat worked well enough, and you lowered your weapon, letting a hiss of air move a wisp out of your eyes. At least she wasn’t going to hide your pins inside the cookie jar… again. 

You spread a sheen of water across your biceps, attempting to quell the heat that built up from the minutes spent sitting on the edge. It only provided a sense of relief for a moment before a shadow loomed over your little spot, the temperature dropping with the rays missing. A groan built up in your throat; he was here.

Rodrick Heffley. The infamous man himself; the lead singer and drummer of the one band that ruined a girl’s birthday party for the sake of courting her, a serenade full of copyright instead of romance. That girl happened to be the most popular in the school, the one that every guy was tripping over himself over. The one who, rather unfortunately, happened to be your sister. 

Your neck twisted upwards, just to look at him, “What?”

“Didn’t know Heather had a brother,” he said, with a smug smile on his face.

“Huh.” You grinned, “I assumed you saw me at her party.”

The smile dropped, and was replaced with a sheepish look,  “Uh, yeah, I was busy.”

“That’s a gentle way to put it.”

He cleared his throat, struggling to not take the bait, “But, hey, what grade are you in? I’ve never seen you around.”

“Same grade, different schools. We’re twins.”

“Oh, damn, really? I couldn’t tell, you two don’t look the same, at all!”

You were used to getting that comment from older generations, who hadn’t been to school in the last half-a-century, but from a late teen? Health and biology should be fresh in everyone’s minds, they all took it two years ago. Though, who were you kidding, this was Rodrick you were talking about. He probably tricked his parents into doing all the homework for him, or worse, bullied his little brother into it. 

“Yeah, really. We’re fraternal twins, not identical.” You rolled your eyes.

There was no light bulb shining in his eyes, no signs that he even registered what you said, “Wait, what?”

“Two sperm, two eggs. Boom.”

“Still, it’s kinda sick that you two are complete,” he paused, “opposites.”

“Are you and Greg–”

“Me and that little nerd are not the same.”

“Then it’s the same concept.”

Rodrick kicked his sandals off before flopping on the edge beside you, cursing silently to himself when the rough ground scraped his hand. You gratefully took the chance to slide your own around your neck, cracking it out of its uncomfortable position. When you looked up again, he was watching you, his lips parted ever so slightly. He visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple betraying him.

“Where do’ya get your eyeliner from?”

“The pharmacy, duh. I won’t spend a lot on expensive eyeliner if I’m just going to smudge it in the end. By then, it all looks the same, why?”

“Just looking for some good brands to keep up my amazing makeup skills, that’s all.”

“So you don’t have to keep borrowing your mom’s?”

He squinted his eyes, peering at you, “How the hell do you know that?”

“Being Heather’s brother pays off sometimes; I hear all her calls.”

“She… talks about me?” You could hear the excitement, the hope growing in his voice. 

It took only a needle to pop it, “Yeah, shit-talks. She doesn't want you, man.”

“Nah, all chicks dig bad boys! They can’t act cool about it forever.”

“You’re more of a wannabe than a bad boy. Listen, if you’re hoping to get with Heather through me, you’re out of luck.”

He backed up, eyes wide, “Woah, woah, I never said that. It’d be a cool plus, sure, but I just wanted to talk to a cool dude.”

“Sure. Well, if you ever need some more eyeliner brands, I’m your man. Can’t promise that they won’t all be dumped in the toilet by tonight, though.”

“Why would they be–”

“Hey, newsflash,” A high voice called out from across the pool, doughnut in tow, “we promised to be back at home by five!”

“Oh, Heather, I have a show coming up; I could get you and the chicks some free tickets to it.” Rodrick hopped on one foot while struggling to get his sandals back on, that smirk creeping back onto his face.

You shook your head and decided to take your feet out of the pool, padding to your lounge chair. Drying them off on your towel, you roughhoused your socks and shoes on, worn to shreds after inspiration from Joey Ramone. Your father had been lucky enough to score tickets to one of his shows back in the late 80’s, and he recalls it as one of the best nights of his life. Not simply because he got to go to a concert, no, his buddy even had to convince him to go in the first place. It was one of his favorite recollections to tell to his two, and then three, children as they grew up.

Rodrick was promptly ignored by Heather as she walked over to you, and his eyes followed her as she dumped her float and bag into your arms. Only the tips of her hair were wet, and like you, had a dry pair of clothes on already. You had to wrestle with the weight until you had a clear view of the ground in front of your shoes.

After you passed the boy on your way to the exit, you called back, “Good luck with the show, Heffley!”

The walk back to the car was a short, but humid one; even from the distance you could see a slip of folded paper stuck in between your left windshield wiper, pale against the dark interior of the car. You managed to set your sister’s bag on the hood, and with light fingers, you plucked the note out of its hiding place, unfolding it.

“Looks like we had a visitor;” You couldn’t help but chuckle while reading it, “Löded Diper.”

Heather fumed, “Are you kidding me?”

“You don’t need to go, yeah?” You shrugged, ducking into the driver’s seat.

“It’s annoying!”

“I can’t exactly say it’s harmless after the party fiasco, but just know I’ll chase him off if he tries anything like that again.”

“Ugh.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

You smiled, tucking the invitation deep into your pocket.

-

Dawdling with Heather’s time in the pool had earned you two missing sticks of makeup, and it was not hard to guess where they had gone the next time you took a piss. You forced yourself not to lash out at your sister, as surely that would make it worse, and just gritted your teeth as you flung the ruined containers into the trash. It truly made you wonder just how Rodrick had come to fall head over heels– literally, in some sense– for the girl. Hell, she treated him worse than you, from the things Holly had whispered to you at the dinner table.

The sun was just starting to set in the sky, light blue bleeding into orange as the pharmacy blocked the sun. You kicked a rock into the entrance, and the small clack caused the doors to slide open in front of you. It was a little late for the nightly rush; the very last of the families were finishing up their shopping, their kids squealing at the gum displayed by the cashier. He was a lean, stiff-looking guy, with sunken eyebags and a dim grin on his face. 

You whistled a tune under your breath, convincing him to turn to look at you, “You’re not paid enough for this, dude.”

“You think?” His smile dropped, and he rolled his eyes, “Why the hell are you here, anyway?”

“Holly isn’t sick, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“And?”

“But someone was sick enough to sabotage my makeup,” you said, flicking his silver name tag. Daniel.

Daniel slapped your hand away, gesturing to your bare eyes, “That part was obvious. Another guy with raccoon eyes slid in here only a few minutes earlier, looking for the same brand you always get, so I kind of assumed he was here to replenish your stash.”

“What? I’m here alone.”

“Really?” He came in close. “You’re sure you aren’t on a–”

“Yeah, I’m sure.” You pushed his face back, your pointer finger squishing his nose.

A couple wandered up to the counter, baby in arms, snot running down its red chin. Their basket was full to the brim, and although Daniel’s winner grin instantly grew, you knew he just wanted to clock out. Snickering, you stuck your hands into your pockets, your wrists scratching against your studded belt as you disappeared into an aisle. The makeup section was located near the back of the pharmacy, filled with flickering lights and shelves full of a few select, cheap brands or clumps of dust. Typically, the only customers that wandered that far back were pre-teens or cigarette mothers; the kind of people who don’t give a shit about what they’re buying as long as it’s cheap.

However, as you sauntered over to the first row of shelves, a head full of brown, lazily styled hair greeted you instead. Not the odor of burnt tobacco, though it still stuck to the white walls in yellowish-gray globs, but the scent of the cheap cologne that followed you around the pool. Rodrick was hanging over quite a specific section, chewing his bottom lip. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as you looked on behind him in amusement. 

Leaning against the wall, you chuckled, “Took my advice, huh, Heffley?”

Rodrick jumped, and hissed under his breath. His posture shot up, his head turning to look at you; a pathetic attempt at saving face, really. No words were said for a long minute, only interrupted by the gargling screeches of a baby. What had Daniel done?

“I thought drug stores selling makeup was a lie, so I had to fact check!” He said, 

holding up his hands.

“You think I’d lie to you?”

“Hey, my mom taught me stranger danger.”

“Since when do you listen to your mom?” You reached past him, snatching up a container, “You obviously have no idea what to look for.”

Rodrick shuffled out of your way, and huffed at your comment. “I totally do!”

“Okay, then, pencil, felt, or liquid? Which do you prefer?”

“I think felt’s the best.”

At that confident response, you stepped closer, getting in his face. He didn’t have too much makeup on, actually; just messily applied eyeliner and a too-light eyebrow pencil. A light pink dusted his cheeks, now that you were able to get a good look at them– his eyes widened, preventing you from doing the same for his eyes. You bit your cheek, your own eyebrows furrowing.

“Relax, dude, I’m trying to look,” you snapped, and used his chin to force him to face upwards.

Even as his shoulders relaxed and his eyelids drooped, he mumbled, “You’re taller than I remember.”

You released his face. Without someone to lean on, Rodrick stumbled, his breathing heavy, despite him never doing anything but laze around. Stepping back, you gave him a knowing grin, pleased at your find. He didn’t seem to process it, lifting a hand to feel up his own jaw. It clicked shut with a snap.

“Liar, you’re wearing pencil eyeliner,” you snickered.

“How the hell could you tell?”

You reached for another container, “Unless you have shit coordination, it’s less precise than liquid is. Creamier, too.”

“That’s sick, man.”

Tapping the pencil into his hand, you kicked his foot, urging him to take it, “I recommend this brand if you’re a fan of that. It’s cheap, so you can stop using up all of your mom’s.”

“Ow!”

He pulled his foot up with one, gripping the eyeliner with the other. Hopping back, he seemed like a really pissed, wounded puppy as he glared at your boots, “Why’d you kick me with those monsters?”

“Monsters? These are Doc Martens, ‘1460’. How do you expect to impress Heather if you can’t even handle a tap to the heel?”

“Excuse me, I let it get run over by a car for her! Barely reacted.”

“So I heard.” You shook your head.

A voice shouted from the intercom, “Are you two done back there? The store’s closing in five, you’re the only ones left, and I’ll lock you in here if you make me work a minute overtime!”

The two of you rushed to the front, pushing and shoving each other into the aisles in order to get to the counter first. Rodrick, out of shape, lost after he landed back-first into packages of gauze. Daniel, the man himself, was even more unimpressed at the scene than he sounded over the intercom, and looked in back and forth between you. He cracked his knuckles, getting to work on scanning the two tiny pencils; he did not even bother to put them in a plastic bag. He scratched his chin, squinting at the screen.

“That’ll be $2.48.”

You pulled out a five dollar bill out of your wallet, “I’ll pay.”

“Shit, I’m okay with that.” Rodrick shrugged.

Daniel stared him down as he snatched the bill out of your hand, “Aren’t you Rodrick Heffley? Greg’s older brother?”

“Duh, the one and only!” Rodrick said, and Daniel turned to you.

“Since when were you buddy-buddy with him? Heather hates his guts.”

“We aren’t buddy-buddy,” you scoffed, and an affronted noise came from beside you. “I only officially met him yesterday, when he was harassing her again. Pretty sure he only talked to me to find out more about Heather.”

The register finished its business with a ding. The cashier handed you your change, taking the opportunity to slide his uniform vest off of his body. You pocketed it along with your stick of eyeliner, almost throwing Rodrick’s at him. Meanwhile, Daniel had disappeared behind a door locked to customers, a clear message to get out of the store while he still allowed it. Your shoes hit the tiled floor with heavy thumps; Rodrick’s steps were silent compared to yours. Your own footsteps quieted as soon as you exited the store, muted by the asphalt ground of the parking lot. 

Rodrick had pulled in with his van, clearly not the smartest move if he had wanted to be inconspicuous. It had a cheap, white paint job that was stained with words spray painted in black, uncentered and tilted. Your car, on the other hand, was a tiny thing that belonged to your mother, who would absolutely murder you if you even got a dent in it from a passing stick. The sun had long dipped under the horizon, causing the deep red color to read as crimson. However, before you could get in, one hand on the door, Rodrick called out to you.

“Thanks for… stuff.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “That’s the first time I think anybody has ever witnessed you say thanks.”

You slammed your car door shut with you inside, watching Rodrick scramble for safety inside his van. The car’s windshield was dark with the fresh evening sky, and you could finally relax in privacy. Turning the key to start the engine, you then flicked on the radio, one arm occupied by resting near the window. An unfamiliar tune, a new release, started playing, as you backed out of your spot; speeding off. If someone asked you about it later, you would have sworn that you saw the boy staring at your fleeting vehicle. 

Truth be told, your family lived in a rich neighborhood that was too well put together for something so close to a highway. Your house wasn’t the biggest in the residency, but it was decent enough to see the golden lights shining through the treetops. Living near a long line of stores was an advantage, you supposed, if a zombie apocalypse happened; but that wouldn’t. At least while you were still alive or young enough to fight some off. Otherwise, it was noisy, and you had to drown out the sounds of motorcycles, cars, and fights breaking out to focus on anything after school.

Your driveway was smooth; any rocks had been smoothed out by the machines rolling over them daily. A few flower bushes lined it– your mother had been insistent about it– and their thorns occasionally caught on your pants when you walked past. Everyone seemed to still be awake as you slipped through the door, keys jingling, since Holly jumped down the stairs to greet you.

She whispered, “Where’d you go?”

“The pharmacy, why are we whispering?” You grinned, matching her energy.

“I didn’t know if mom and dad knew,” she responded, louder, “You got grounded for a month last time you snuck out.”

“Okay, okay, shh, back to whispering.”

You climbed up the stairs, not bothering to let Heather know you had returned. Her voice carried throughout the walls, as she was complaining on call about projects, about boys, about Rodrick. Every time she talked with her friends, she complained about the ‘tough guy’ who deluded himself into thinking she was secretly into him, every time he acted up. All the girls seemed to have formed a hate club for the drummer, and if Holly had anything to say about it, it was that some of the teachers joined it as well.

As soon as you shut your bedroom door, you bent down to untie your Doc’s purple ties, tugging the boots off and throwing them in your closet. You slipped your pants off, then your boxers, leaving only your secondary underwear to hold your pad inside. Before you could throw both garments in your hamper, you paused, feeling a crinkle underneath your hand. You reached down into the pocket, pulling out a wrinkled, ripped piece of paper. Thoughtfully, you smoothed it out, pinning it on your cork board as you tossed your clothes into the pile.

Two free tickets to their upcoming show, meant for Heather. It would take a lot in order to drag Daniel to the event with you, as a plus one, but you were sure you were capable. As you settled into bed, you thought back to all the things your twin had said about the band, and the party. That celebration had been the only time you had heard their music, and it wasn’t even their song, more so a cover.

You gently placed the pencil on your bedside, only able to see the outline of it in the moonlight. If he was only being nice to you for Heather’s approval, why had he taken your advice? That mystery should bother you, should keep you up, like it did last night. But truly?

You could not find it in yourself to care.

-

[pretzel-box]

Can we get an update about your Sebastian x read enemies to lovers?

Sure! I have the whole storyboard finished and started to write the first chapters. Might publish the first one in the coming week.

The whole thing will be called : As above so below

so you will find my works under #AsAboveSoBelow if you search it up on my profile!

I kinda was unmotivated because of the whole Zerum drama but it makes me happy to see people interested in my work!

A warning to everyone tho: This won't be a sugarcoated fanficion. Sebastian will be mean, kidnapper-behaviour, gaslighting, etc. warnings will be put at the start of each chapter. It's an enemies to lovers with some dark elements.

Chapter 1 snippet below

Unedited, non proof read.

The time on the wall clock displayed that it was barely some minutes after twelve in the noon. The warm sunlight creeped gently into the waitingroom by shining through the tall panorama windows of the building. A quick gaze to the side, to take a glimpse of the clock, was enough to tell you that it would surely take a few more moments till it was time to move away from the comfort of the leather chair you sat on right now. Your fresh desinfected hands clinged nervously onto your phone while swiftly scrolling through the list with the contacts that you had saved over the time you owned it. You were so concentrated that it slightly startled you, when another caller ID popped upon the bright screen of the phone, displaying the picture of your fathers face.

This particular man called you a lot lately, pushing his nose into your business after you dared to ask him for a teeny tiny favour, and you prayed that he wiould help since you are his beloved only daughter. But one of the things you didn't expected from him in that specific moment, was that he would take the oppertunity to call you, remembering that he was somewhere on the ocean.

He works as a high-class business man, sponsoring mainly a company called Urbanshade. You didn't knew much about them but your dad mentioning something about how they specialized in underwater mining with some high-tech inventions.

This explained his temporary stay on one of Urbanshade's ships, the testing and showcasing of another new underwater mining robot of some sort, called Trenchbleeder. Your dad funded the whole project in the past few months, so he was more than excited to see how his money is getting used for good reasons.

"Did they call you yet?" Despite the slightly static, the seagulls and the waves in the background, you were able to make out the strict tone in his voice. Of course he was curious. You have asked your dad if he knows someone who would hire you, his daughter. And of course, the first thing that he applies you for is one of Urbanshades research facilities. They didn't really looked for new employes in first place, but your dad was really close to the higher ups, so he bought the job for you. The fact he paid the company to take you made your stomach twist in an state of uncomfortableness but it was too late to turn back and say no." risked a lot by doing that for you."

He refers to the payment he has done for your sake and you can feel the pressure he dumped onto your shoulders.

You nod, even if your dad couldn't see it on the phone. "I'm at their building, sitting in the waitingroom. We sign the contract today." You tried to sound confident but you knew your dad saw behind your facade already. "They should be calling me into the office soon."

Your name gets loudly called through the room before your dad was able to reply to you, he would probably would give you another warning not to mess it up for his reputations sake. "Sorry dad, it's time."

You ended the call with a swift push on the red button, turning your phone ultimately on mute so nothing will distract the meeting you will now have with one of the higher ups at Urbanshade. The lady at the receptionist, told you where to go and another employee guided you to a glass room, showcasing a middle-aged man in an expensive looking suit. His arms were crossed and the way he scanned your application papers made your stomach turn.

The man must have noticed your little stare from the other side of the glass wall, since his head looked up from the file and it wasn't hard to miss the the coy smile on his lips. The previous expression on his face already replaced with a more welcoming one. "Ah, we finally meet. Your father told me already a good share abour you, little lady."

"I am grateful for the chance to work for your company, Mr.Wiltshire." The first impression counts, especially at a company as Urbanshade. And so you took the oppertunity to present yourself from the best side that you could possibly bring up, even if it means pretending to be something that you are not, in this case motivated and interested. Your hand almost raised up on it's own to offer a polite and respectful handshake.

"I assure you, we are the ones that are honoured to welcome you in our team.. Welcome to Urbanshade."

[arcane-vagabond]

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Fool's Fare: Chapter One

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warnings: Alcohol, Jake Seresin, suggestive language, fear of abandonment. I think that's it?

Word Count: 2.87k

A/N: Wasn't sure I was going to post again tonight, but here we are! Not sure I'm going to post a fic update tomorrow, but I might work on some drabbles and post some of the asks sitting in my inbox. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated. 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under arcane_vagabond!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist

The cool, night breeze twisted its way through the door of the crowded pub as a group of patrons exited, offering the briefest relief to your clammy skin as you busied yourself behind the bar. Patrons crowded around the various tables, some laughing in the open while others crowded in the dark shadows of the corners. Your regulars were easy to spot, most of them fishermen. Their carefree attitudes set them apart from the strangers passing through who kept themselves closed off and guarded in an unfamiliar places.

“Y/n!” Called Tom, one of your regulars. He had been a good friend to your father, having known him from his early fishing days. Tom had done well for himself, having been able to put enough money away to buy his own ship - the Iceman. “How’s about another ale!”

“Coming, Captain!” you hollered over at him jovially, already moving to grab a fresh glass. You had always liked the old captain, and had considered him to be a part of your family growing up. When your parents had died, he had seen to it personally that you were taken care of and that Bradley was able to secure steady work on the various shipping vessels that docked on your shores. “Where’s Rooster?”

“Should be coming along soon, I suspect,” Tom smiled warmly. Bradley had been picking up different odd jobs as of late, his latest one being aboard the Iceman loading and unloading cargo. He had been dodging your questions about it as of late, and you had started to wonder if he was up to something.

“He’s going to work himself into an early grave,” you grumbled, sliding the glass of ale down to the captain who caught it easily. “He won’t even tell me what he’s doing all of these jobs for.”

“I’m sure he has his reasons,” mused Tom, lifting the glass up to his lips to take a swig. “He probably doesn’t want you to worry.”

“He’s worrying me by not saying anything,” you countered, leaning against the bar. At that moment, the pub door swung open, and an exhausted looking Bradley stumbled through. You rounded the bar to help him sit down as he staggered onto a stool. “Bradley, for heaven’s sake!”

“Think you can get me an ale, Guppy?” he asked, rubbing at the bags under his eyes. The tips of his ears and nose were seared pink from hours spent in the intense sun, and you frowned at him.

“What you need is sleep,” you countered, but Bradley shook his head, fixing you with tired, pleading eyes.

“Please?” he asked again, softer this time. You sighed, moving back behind the bar and pouring him a draft before sliding it over to him. He grabbed it, raising it up in a silent cheers before tossing his head back with a long swig.

“Easy, lad,” Tom frowned, watching the young man as he took another long pull from his glass. Bradley set his drink down, absentmindedly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Another,” he told you, but you shook your head.

“No, absolutely not,” you scowled as the furrow between his eyes deepened. “You need to go home and rest, Bradley.”

“She’s right, lad,” Tom started, twisting in his seat to face the younger man. “You’ll work yourself into an early grave if you’re not careful.”

“I’m fine,” Bradley muttered, resting his head against the palm of his hand. Tom gave him a wry smile before clapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. He shot you a wink before getting up to join his crew that was gathered on the opposite side of the room. You watched him go before turning back to look at Bradley with a frown.

“C’mon, Roos,” you prodded, leaning your head down so you could meet his gaze that was fixed on the bartop. “Tell me what you’re up to.”

“Nothin’” he grumbled unconvincingly. You rolled your eyes with a purse of your lips.

“I’m having a hard time believing you,” you sniped, snatching the glass away from him. Without another word to him, you poured another ale and offered it to him. He took it, offering a small smile. He met your even gaze just long enough for you to see the flash of guilt that flitted in his eyes. “What was that?”

“What was what?” he asked, taking a small sip from his glass.

“Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you hissed, eyes blazing, “I have known you for twenty years now. Either you tell me what you’re up to right now, or I will personally see to it that you won’t be able to get another job for a month.”

“Alright,” he winced, setting the glass down and finally meeting your stare. “You have to promise me you won’t yell.”

You scoffed. “Are you twelve?”

“Guppy, promise me,” he insisted, hazel eyes pleading with you. You studied him another moment before sighing.

“Alright, fine.”

“I’m leaving.”

“You’re what?” you shrieked, causing some of the patrons to turn to the two of you as Bradley hissed at you to be quiet.

“You promised you wouldn’t be mad.”

“That was before you told me you were leaving,” you snapped. “Where are you even going to go?”

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted, leaning back. “Still need to find a crew that will take me on long-term.”

You stayed silent, watching him with furious eyes. After a couple of beats, you turned to walk back around the bar. “Caroline, I’m leaving.”

She waved after you, moving to tend to some patrons on the opposite end of the bar. Bradley watched you walk away with wide eyes before getting up to stumble after you. You flung the door of the pub open before setting off with a brisk pace down the road.

“Guppy!”

You ignored the man behind you, tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Guppy?”

The tears began to fall, the trails they left behind on your cheeks turning to ice in the cool, night air. You turned to walk down to the beach past the docks. How could he drop that bomb shell on you? How could he keep that hidden from you in the first place? Your anger only served to cover up the true emotion you tried your hardest to ignore. Betrayal.

“Y/n, please,” Bradley begged, his long legs having helped him catch up to you by now. You stopped in your tracks, feet sliding into the sand beneath you as you whirled around. You shoved Bradley with all of your strength, shock at the unexpected movement being the only reason stumbled back at all.

“How could you?” you cried, tears falling quicker and your breath coming out shallower as you fought to keep your composure. “How could you just plan to leave me?”

“It’s not like that,” he started, but you shook your head.

“Don’t lie to me, Bradley,” you seethed, hands now clenched at your sides. “Don’t. I deserve the truth. Were you even going to say goodbye to me, or were you just going to vanish one day?”

“Of course not,” he murmured, staring at you with eyes once again pleading with you. “I would never do that to you. You know that.”

“I thought I knew you well enough to know that you wouldn’t leave,” you shot back, causing Bradley to wince. “Guess I don’t know as much as I thought I did.”

“Y/n,” he sighed, running a hand over his face and looking out at the ocean. He seemed to be mulling over his words. “It wouldn’t be forever.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” you laughed humorlessly.

“It wouldn’t be forever,” he continued, giving you a pointed look. “It would only be until I earned enough to buy my own ship.”

“You can do that here,” you argued, but Bradley shook his head with a small, empty laugh.

“I can’t,” he said. “I’ve barely earned enough these past weeks to live off of for a month out at sea. I’d be buried in the ground before I earned enough to buy a ship, and you know that.”

You couldn’t argue. You knew he was right, and you knew that this was not the life he had dreamed of. He had dreamed of going off with your father on one of his many voyages before the sea had claimed him. It had been years, but the pain of his and your mother’s passing still felt fresh in your heart.

You saw how Bradley looked longingly out at the sea when he thought you weren’t looking, or how he always looked happiest standing on the deck of a boat. No, Bradley was meant for a life at sea, and you knew it. You just never thought he would leave you behind.

“It won’t be forever,” he says again, moving to put his hands on your shoulders, bending down so he was eye level with you. “And when I earn enough money to buy my own ship, I’ll come back for you.”

“That could be years,” you croaked, your voice barely above a whisper. Bradley sucks in a breath before slowly nodding.

“You’re right,” he conceded, wiping the tears from your cheek.

“What if you forget about me?”

Bradley huffed out a laugh before drawing you into his arms. He hugged you tightly, resting his cheek on the top of your head. “How could I forget my baby sister? Besides, I think you’d swim across the ocean to find me if I ever forgot about you.”

You huffed a laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re probably right.”

“‘Course I am,” he chuckled, pulling away from you. “Now, c’mon. It’s freezin’ out here, and I’m exhausted.”

You allowed him to lead you up the hill to your shared home. He left a chaste kiss to the top of your head before wishing you goodnight. As you lay in bed that night, you obsessed over the one question you had refused to allow yourself to ask him down at the beach. What if the sea claimed him too?

The following night, you found yourself back behind the bar of the pub. You had heard snippets of chatter amongst the locals about an unknown ship that had docked on your shores.

“I don’t like the look of’em,” Tom had told you and Bradley as he sat at the bar. A lull in the crowd had granted you a moment to stop and talk with the two of them.

“Why’s that?” you asked. He frowned.

“When you get to be my age,” he grumbled, “you can start to pick out the rotten sorts from just a glance.”

Before you could respond, the pub door swung open, hitting the wall with a thud. All three of you turned to see a large group step through the doorway and into the warm glow of the lantern filled room. A blond man stood at the front of the group, lips curled into a confident smirk. You noted the handsome features of him and his companions, and you knew the other women in the room had as well due to the scattered giggles from around the room.

“That’s them,” Tom mumbled, taking another sip of his ale.

The blond scanned his eyes across the room before catching sight of you at the bar. A twinkle of intrigue shone in his eyes as he began to saunter over to you, his crew dispersing to find a table to sit at. You shot a weary glance at Tom before moving to meet the tall stranger on the opposite side of where Bradley sat.

“Evenin’” you greeted with a polite smile. “What can I get you?”

The man looked you over with lick of his lips. “An ale, and your company if you’re offerin’ that too.”

You felt your cheeks grow warm. It wasn’t the first time a patron had made a pass at you, but it was the first time a patron was that devilishly handsome. “The ale, I can get you, but I’m not in the habit of entertaining sailors.”

“Shame,” the stranger grins, watching as you pour his drink. You hand it to him, and you feel a shiver run up your spine as his fingers graze yours. “Would have been nice to have someone as pretty as you in my bed tonight.”

You saw Bradley’s jaw tick from the corner of your eye, and you shot him a warning glance. This part of your job wasn’t new, and you had long since learned how to handle yourself in these situations.

“I believe there are more than a couple of girls over there who would be willing to warm your bed tonight, Mr…?”

“Seresin,” he said with a cheeky grin. “Jake Seresin. And I’m not interested in having anyone but you, pretty girl.”

“Well, then it looks like your bed will go cold tonight after all,” you said to him. Bradley snorted, trying to cover it with a cough, but Jake ignored him.

“Seresin,” Tom grunted, causing all three of you to look at him. He shook his head, and turned to glare at Jake. “I’ve heard of you. You’re a pirate.”

The conversation died in the pub as everyone turned to look at your little group by the bar. Jake’s easy grin never faltered as he stared back at Tom.

“Pirate is such a nasty word,” he drawled, taking a sip of his ale. “I prefer the term…liberator.”

“Whatever you call it, you have no business here,” Tom snapped.

“I beg to differ, my friend,” Jake countered, moving to stand. Turning to the rest of the room, he stated, “I’m looking for men to join my crew. You keep what you can carry with you. If you’re interested, come see me.”

And with one final glance at you, he sauntered off towards the back of the room where his crew had taken up purchase.

“Pirates?” you asked, looking at Tom hesitantly. He shook his head and got up to go join his own crew in the corner. You peered at Bradley from the corner of your eye. He studied the rim of his glass as he stroked it thoughtfully.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked him. He jumped as your words pulled him from his train of thought.

“Nothing,” he said quickly, refusing to meet your gaze. You studied him him for a moment until you saw the quick glance he threw towards the back of the room.

“No,” you snapped, causing him to finally meet your gaze. “Absolutely not.”

“What?” he scowled, but you fixed him with a glare and a finger pointed into his chest.

“Don’t even think about it,” you hissed in warning. Bradley glared right back at you before hopping off his stool and strutting towards the crew at the back. You scrambled around the bar after him. You closed the distance just as he stopped in front of Jake.

“I want to join your crew,” he stated. Jake looked at him with an amused look, eyes flickering to you as you pulled on Bradley’s arm so that he faced you.

“Bradley, don’t,” you begged.

“Y/n, enough,” he snapped down at you, taking you aback. His eyes softened as you looked up at his broad frame with hurt bewilderment. He let out a long sigh, running a hand through his sandy brown locks. He looked back at you before continuing. “Don’t you see, Guppy? This is my chance. If I don’t go now, who knows when I’ll get another opportunity to leave and make my fortune.”

“Roo, you’re my brother. I can’t let you do this,” you pleaded, taking his hand in yours. You willed him to listen to you, but it was no use.

“I’ve made my decision, Guppy,” he said. You couldn’t stop the flash of hurt you knew passed over your face as Bradley turned back to the captain. You looked around at the other patrons desperately before settling your eyes on Tom. He was already looking at you with a solemn expression, shaking his head.

“Sign here,” Jake instructed, pointing to the piece of parchment he had rolled out onto the table. Bradley obeyed, scratching his name in quick strokes to the bottom. You felt the tears start to run down your face before you could stop them. You couldn’t stop anything, it seemed. Bradley straightened and turned to look at you. The two of you stared at one another for several moments before you turned on your heel and stormed away from him.

That night, as you lay in bed, you dreamed of the sea. You dreamed of blue and green swirling around you as you struggled to breath. You dreamed of splintering wood and echoed shrieks that were drowned out by thundering waves. You dreamed of strange creatures that lurked the deep as they waited for their next meal. You dreamed of golden hair and cocky smirks as they taunted you beneath the waves. You dreamt of a cold, calloused hand that pulled you under until the surface was nothing but a distant memory.

[lovelykhaleesiii]

bestie to brighten your day: rugby player! aegon.

he is big (his thigh is as big as your body), he plays rough and definitely not fair and he always enjoys partying up a good victory in the locker room with you, his favorite fan

this idea plagued my mind so, that I made a few, innocent headcanons about this version of Aeg… so don’t mind me :)

No. 1 Fan

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Rugby!Player!Aegon ii Targaryen x girlfriend!fem!Reader [MODERN AU]

WORDS: 964.

WARNINGS: mentions of physical fights/competitiveness, swearing, mentions of p in v sexual intercourse, handjobs/blowjobs.

A/N - as I mentioned previously, I'll continue to be dropping fics however may take a while to respond, forgive me x I am trying to find my groove again on this hellsite.

Aegon would not have ever considered sports as a hobby [let alone as a passion].

Although, he was often encouraged to by teachers/coaches because of his sturdy mass, and from the sake of peer pressure [his friends were commonly jocks, and therefore he felt obliged to join].

Nonetheless, once he got a taste of rugby, and since then, it was game over.

He was obsessed, and invested in his games.

Aegon struggled from time to time with being consistent in training: often at times not showing up, developing a love-hate relationship with his coach.

Although on the off and rare occasion Aegon did participate in some vigorous training, you did rather enjoy watching him from afar on the sidelines. Feeling yourself getting lustfully wetter by the second, tempted to touch yourself at the sheer sight.

Desperate to sate your needs, and Aegon noticing how blush and flustered you were seeing him all breathless and sweaty, he knew what he needed to do.

However, the training draining most of his stamina out, you would often ride him atop, as he remained lazy and blissfully observant from below.

Moreso, it was more so the aspect of winning, that enticed Aegon. The feeling of earning a victory was unlike anything he'd ever accomplished.

That and the fact that he could allow his competitive nature to take over with proper cause: he had a great enthusiasm for tackling rivalries that was invigorating for him. The adrenaline that fuelled him during the games, was almost intoxicating.

Not to mention the celebrations that followed, the endless partying was an added bonus.

Celebratory sex was now strictly a ritual between you two, and was often his main, personal objective to win a game.

Aegon did also enjoy and favour when you made the effort to congratulate him with some good old cock-sucking and hand-jobs. Worn out from games, yet the adrenaline still coursing through his veins, he could easily grow stiff after a solid win, and desperately needed some release: your pretty mouth and swift hands always did the trick, shooting his hot, fresh load all over your breasts, satisfied with himself.

Aegon initially, never thought of himself as competitive, and probably was not prior to sports: however having since grown into a complete jock, he loved the idea of winning.

Trying his best for his team mates, for you and most importantly for himself, was something that he was not accustomed to, and yet he found solace in that warmed his heart [although he rarely told anyone this, besides you].

Initially after joining the team, Aegon hadn't disclosed his new venture to his family: it was only when Helaena got whiff of it, and you had accidentally mentioned it in passing, that Alicent was adamant the entire family attend a game [despite Aegon's efforts to convince them not to].

They would end up sneaking into the game in secret, only to make themselves known from the blatant, ecstatic cheering once Aegon scores a goal.

Viserys would pay no mind though, just exchanging a simple, unimpressive nod of approval. Alicent would slowly start to collect the team's souvenirs, her and Helaena making their own posters with your help. Aemond would act like he too, did not care, although would comment on a solid tackle ["I mean I could run faster than you, but I suppose you did well enough brother"] and Daeron would only pay attention from his phone/console once the crowd starts cheering/roaring. Criston would be subtly proud of Aegon's new interest, chiming in his two cents and exchanging advice from his college football days.

It pained you however, to see Aegon get beaten and tackled: even more anxious if he was on the cusp of a physical fight with the rival team, which he often always found himself in some sort of tussle.

One rival player had in passing mentioned your name, and all he saw was red... Safe to say, he was suspended that game, and learnt his lesson.

Although, he did rather enjoy you nursing him back to health, aiding in his recovery: soothing and massaging his sore muscles, he would relish in your back massages. The gentle feeling of your soft, small hands rubbing up against his rough, bruised skin.

Eventually leading to your eager, wet cunt up against his stiff, girthy cock.

Regardless, Aegon often exclaimed that you were his lucky charm. Getting into the religious habit of kissing you before the starting kick or scrum, in between half-time and immediately after.

He was obsessed with seeing you wear his oversized jersey: appearing more like a short dress over you, this would be his screensaver.

The cheerleaders would definitely try tho shoot their shot [aimlessly] whether it was at training sessions or during games: although Aegon knew better than to indulge, his eyes only set on you.

Although he did enjoy how ruffled and jealous you would get.

He earned his college scholarship from playing in high-school, now playing in the big leagues.

Aegon would also often entice you into the boy's locker [only when vacant and empty], fucking you rough and hard in some steamy shower.

With all the training, Aegon's body would be buff as fuck and muscular: he had always leaned towards the larger size, his appetite grand, often justifying that he was "bulking" for the sake of training.

THIGHS!!!!! Your fave feature, sitting on his lap was the most comfortable thing, not to mention the thigh rides…

You would gift Aegon a custom made miniature jersey vest for Sunfyre, his labrador pup, and Aegon would actually be over the moon.

"Like father, like son, huh?!"

Footballer/Rugby player Aeg would definitely have an untamed mullet.

Regardless, you were his number one supporter, proudly calling yourself his top fan.

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag] - @evenstaris @bel-bottoms @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified

Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel

[bookishgalaxies]

Hello hello! Really love your blog, it's visually so cute and I love your writing :D if possible may I request Albedo and Kokomi with a gn reader having a tough day? Just looking for a little fluff :')

I’m Here Now

summary: you are having a particularly hard day and are lucky enough to be dating these cool characters that want to make you feel better.

type; headcannons, not proofread

characters: kokomi x gn!reader. albedo x gn!reader

warnings: none (??)

a/n: ANON, you did not just pick my TWO FAVORITE CHARACTERS and ask me to write my FAVORITE THING of all time (comfort fluff). I’ve been in a depressed slump lately so this won’t be tooth rotting fluff but it is the best I could give :)

————————★————————

✧ kokomi

Kokomi saw right through your insistent statements of being “completely okay”. She was one to hide her emotions for the sake of others so she got quite good at noticing it in different people.

She would let you lay on her bed with all her favorite emotional support plushies while getting you something to eat (your favorite snack that she had stored away for times like this).

Kokomi takes pride in being prepared to cuddle you and let you enjoy your favorite snack while you unwind. She understands if you want silence and is completely okay with just running her hand through your hair while you two soak up each other’s presence.

If you wish to hear her talk, she’ll probably start off by telling you about her day, then rambling about military strategy. She gets this really bright smile on her face when she rambles about it but she smiles even brighter when she talks about you.

“Lately, your smile is the main thing that are getting me through these negotiation meetings. For your sake and for my own, I want you to have it back.”

She smelled of fresh ocean waters and it made your jaw unclench and your heart melt. Everything she was doing helping you calm down.

✧ albedo

Albedo didn’t know what breaks were until he met you. Genuinely just getting used to not eating or sleeping when he was experimenting. After he met you and discovered them, he not only implemented them into his own routine but forced others to do so as well.

He knew you were upset by your body language and the tone of voice you kept responding to him with. So, he stopped his work and gathered a few supplied before insisting you follow him.

Taking you out to a nice and peaceful bit of scenery. Depending on the time of day determines the suns location in the sky. However, mid afternoon in some locations looks just as good as a sunset in others.

Albedo would let you lay against his chest as he drew the scenery. Wanting to give you a calming break and let himself draw.

“Care to talk about what is on your mind?”

If you don’t want to, you don’t have to but if you do…he will listen intently. Often giving you logical solutions on how to fix your problems.

Though, he is able to just listen and nod if you tell him you just want to vent.

And if you don’t want to say anything at all? That’s fine too! You two enjoy some nice alone time cuddled up together admiring scenery.

“I hope tomorrow turns out to be much more enjoyable for you.”

————————★————————

[dolls-self-ships]

How I think the HH crew takes their coffee

Lucifer orders the most complicated, sugary, step specific drink you could imagine. He is hated by baristas everywhere. Also gets so excited when ordering he changes it at least 3 times halfway through explaining it. Probably gets something different everytime too. He is a regular with no usual. Charlie canonically likes frappaccinos! Like her dad, I can see her having similar tastes, sugar, but also wanting to keep it simple so that she doesn't overwhelm the employees (she's too considerate for her own good). Orders straight from the menu exactly how it is with no alterations, is also the one who probably walks in with a list of orders for her friends, goes as slow as possible for the cashiers sake. Angeldust rolls up to the drivethrough hung over and orders something iced- probably a caramel drink and he asks for it to specifically be drowned in caramel, and an extra shot. Either that or a vanilla iced latte. Vaggie is not a huge fan of coffee, she gets a tea or tea latte instead. Earl grey is her favourite and she likes a lot of milk. Alastor loves a nice extra hot black coffee. He wants that bitch scolding and bitter. Doesn't even drink it, just splashes it in his face. Where that would normally give someone 3rd degree burns, it gives him some 'extra pep' in the morning, as he puts it (god he's a fucking freak) Husk takes his coffee black also, but instead will spike it with his own bourbon he keeps in a flask. Will sometimes get cream and sugar if he's feeling, as he puts it , 'fancy' (bro is so low maintenance) Nifty isn't allowed to have caffeine for obvious reasons Sir Pentious is another non-coffee drinker but drinks exclusively tea. Is a bit of a snob about it too. Needs the leaves to be fresh or he WILL be able to taste the burntness. His favourite is peppermint. Would rather die than bother the barista to remake it though so he normally brews his own with his own needlessly complicated tea making invention of course.  Cherri bomb loooooves caffine, but isn't much of a coffee drinker. More of a monster energy and redbull kinda gal. She needs something she can drink fast and hard. Don't even get me started on those 5 hour energy drinks. Oh boy. Don't let her near them (she will kill u for one) Vox is an avid coffee drinker. Practically lives off of it and can't get through the day without (it's a problem). Definately has one of those 'don't talk to me before I've had my coffee' mugs bc he's an asshole. Drinks like 5-6 cups in a single day. Send help. Velvette gets a coffee once in the morning and then one in the afternoon. Pulls up to the cash register with her sunglasses on and outfit for the day put together, intimidating buisness lady vibes off the charts while she orders between phone calls. Also definately shushes the barista of they try to ask her any questions, can't you see she's on the phone? Her order is LONG and COMPLICATED and she needs it made the way she likes to a T, she also talks fast and no she will NOT repeat herself so you better be a fast writer. Probably gets something vanilla flavoured with 3 shots of espresso in it. Valentino isn't a coffee guy but if he needs it for a long shoot or late night he gets either an Americano or pure espresso shots. No time to waste with the frills and fancy stuff despite the look of him. Also will throw the cup at the barista if the shots come out burnt or expired.

[callsign-rogueone]

letters from samara - g.t.

Garrick Tavis x reader (Angel!) part of my Valentine’s Day celly! 💕 words: 1.0k 🏷: FOURTH WING AND IRON FLAME SPOILERS, part of my Garrick and Angel series, so read that first for context! no other warnings, just kinda soft and sad.

Someone drops a thick envelope onto the table in front of you. “From Samara. They said it was important.”

Samara. Brennan had told you that’s where Garrick and Xaden are. Your hands shake as you open the seal, but you relax at the familiar slant of Garrick’s handwriting. 

My angel,

I will start with what I know you’re most worried about: I am alive, I am safe, and so is X. He’s brooding in the corner of the room right now -- he’s not taking it well being apart from Vi, but command has allowed them visits every two weeks for Tairn and Sgaeyl’s sakes. 

We both miss you more than words can describe. I wish I could have said goodbye before we left, or that we could have taken you with us, but X wouldn’t hear arguments from anyone. I have never seen him that serious about anything before. 

I’m so sorry, angel. For all of it, everything. You didn’t deserve to be put through any of that, and I know how deeply it hurt you. It was terrifying to see you that way, so drained and cold. I can’t imagine what it felt like. 

Promise me you’ll take care of yourself, my love. You are the most kindhearted person I’ve ever known, and I love that about you, but you have to think of your own needs as well. You deserve peace and rest, especially now. Sleep in as long as you want, make time for your meditation. I’m sure the gardens would appreciate your attention as well; I swear you could make roses grow in dry sand as long as you smiled at them every day. 

I couldn’t bear to burn anything of yours, knowing that your heart still beats. I kept the things I thought to be most important to you and took them here with me. I will return them to you as soon as I can, but they are a comfort to me now — my room here feels like it did at Basgiath, with little touches of you scattered around. I keep watching the door, thinking that any moment you’ll come knocking to walk to class with me, or if I reach across the bed in the morning, you’ll be beside me again. I don’t know when I’ll see you next, but I know in my heart that I will. There is nothing and no-one that could keep me from you. 

Yours always,

G

On the sheet below, another.

Until I can lay by your side and tell you about my days, I’ll keep writing to you about them instead.

Being here feels like being a fresh cadet all over again, but different -- bottom of the food chain, getting the shifts nobody wants, but at least we don’t have to constantly prove our strength like we did in our first year at Basgiath, and we already have our dragons. 

One of Chradh’s relatives is here, which is cool. I think they’re cousins? They look damn near identical. I walked up to the wrong one on the flight line the other day -- thankfully the guy has a better sense of humor than Chradh, but I’m never making that mistake again.

Every rider here seemed to know exactly who we were when we arrived. Some of them have been more subtle with their distaste for us than others, but nobody’s been dumb enough to try anything -- probably because we look like we can fight, and because Sgaeyl is fucking terrifying, even more so now that she’s separated from Tairn. 

I just got off a 12-hour patrol shift, and I’m exhausted, but it’s hard to sleep without you here. I don’t think we’ve ever been apart this long in our lives. Being without either of you has never even felt like a possibility before; it’s always been us three together through the good and the bad. Someday it’ll be like that again, I know it will.

Brennan is the best mender I have ever known. If you choose, he can help you strengthen your ability, but please don’t push yourself too far. I need you to be in one piece when I get back. 

There are three more sheets underneath, one in Xaden’s rough script and two more from Garrick, the last dated four days ago -- likely the day he’d sent it. 

You realize what an incredible risk it was to write to you at all. It wouldn’t take a genius to put together that X is Xaden, that you’re hiding in Aretia, that you’d faked your death, or rather that your friends had faked it for you. How many hands did these pages pass through to reach you? How many others out there are on your side? 

You bring a hand up to cover your yawn, realizing how tired you are. The sun has gone down, a small mage light the only thing illuminating the corner of the study that you occupy. It’s likely nearing midnight.

“The letters and the books will still be there in the morning,” Tab says gently. “Sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

You look down at the torn piece of fabric you’ve been staring at for the last four hours. It has not yet sewn itself back together, no matter how hard you concentrated or “cleared your mind”, how gently you touched it. You’d even asked it nicely, but it did not dignify you with a response.

You set the letters aside for a moment, stacking up the books that you’d found in the house’s library about mending and placing them in a neat pile in the corner of the table you’ve been sitting at every evening for the last week. You fold the black cotton into quarters, setting it atop the pile -- you’ll try again tomorrow.

You can’t help but smile as you tuck the letters back into the envelope, brushing your fingers over the wax seal.

Garrick is right, this is the longest you’ve ever been apart, but as you gaze out the window into the starry sky, holding the letters he’d written you, the distance between you doesn’t seem that far.

[prismaticpichu]

Zack decides to bake some cookies for his BEST FRIENDS <3, but he reads the recipe wrong and does a teaspoon of sugar and 2 cups of salt.

How, uh, does that go?

🧂🧂🧂🧂🧂

Shshshsshh 🤣❤️ I actually needed some salt for my scrambled eggs, funny enough!! *showers crystals onto breakfast* <333

Ahhhhh, Zack… that is SUCH a thing the pup would do 🤣💙 I imagine it going something like:

~

“Orddeeerrrr up!”

The resulting boom of wood hitting drywall could’ve very well been compared to a grenade being thrown through the door, at least when taking into account how the sheer magnitude of their visitor’s entrance sent both Genesis and Angeal tumbling off the couch and onto the floor in a startled, yelping mass.

Not Sephiroth, though.

He just more or less glanced up from his book, sitting in the plushiest chair in the SOLDIER First Class Lounge.

“Hello, Fair,” he nodded, smiling nonchalantly as his two friends peeled themselves from off the cold hard floor, straightening. “What brings you here?”

“Yes—good question, Sephiroth.” Genesis dusted himself off, trying to ignore the potential damage to his ribcage, mako-lit eyes snapping toward the puppy—then Angeal. “Angeal, chum... how did your student get in here?”

Angeal pulled himself up, cracking his back, looking somewhat sheepish. “I... well, I did give him a key,” he admitted, and it sounded as if he was starting to regret it.

“Oh, I forgot the key!” Zack kicked the door shut behind him, leaving the implications hidden behind his nonchalant smil—

“So you kicked the door open?” Genesis saw right through the grin, an he didn’t like it.

“Sure did.”

“Why?”

“Well, you wouldn’t let me in if I knocked.”

Genesis huffed, his eyes floating back toward Angeal with a certain woodenness, opening his mouth again to speak:

“Gen, don’t start,” Angeal sighed.

“Oh, I’m starting,” Genesis folded his arms, the familiar embers sparking in his gaze. “I don’t understand—this is the First Class common room. Why would you ever even tell the kid where this room was to begin with? I mean, really, we deal with the younglings every day; do you know how many of his little friends he’s probably told by now? Before we know it, this place will be infested with them—”

“He brought cookies,” Sephiroth pointed out.

“Like, for Minerva’s sake...—wait, cookies?” Genesis repeated, pulling his head out his metaphorical hind to see Zack had indeed pulled out a small baggie of chocolate chip cookies from his pocket, and his eyes widened. “Those aren’t for us... are they?”

“‘Course they are!” Zack proudly chirped, peeling open the baggie to pull three fresh-baked sweets out. “Wanted to make something sweet tor ShinRa’s sweetest SOLDIERs. Made ‘em myself.”

Genesis’s eyes widened further, the embers suddenly smothered as he gestured for Zack to enter. “Well, what are you standing by the door for? Come in, come in! We’d love to have you here!”

His own eyes gleaming, Zack bounded into the heart of the lounge where all three Firsts were situated, dishing out the delicious treats to each of his wonderful heroes.

“Much obliged!” Genesis thanked, graciously accepting the offered the cookie.

“Thank you,” Sephiroth nodded with a faint smile, offering Zack a secret hair-ruffle before the boy skipped over to his mentor.

“Thanks, pup,” Angeal chuckled warmly, studying the cookie as one would a fine gemstone. “You really made these yourself?”

“You bet!” Zack beamed. “Right in my kitchen.”

“And these aren’t just ‘Tonberry House’ dough you put in the oven?” his mentor smirked.

“Nope, nope! Made ‘em from scratch, right down to the eggs and sugar!”

Not that they needed to know of the mess he had so kindly dubbed, “the egg-plosion.”

He could always just repaint the walls.

“Well,” Angeal’s smirk softened into another warm grin, reining Zack back to the present as he brought the cookie to his lips. “They look wonderful, pup. Good texture, good chocolate chip-cookie ratio~”

“Indeed...” Genesis hummed, then happily took the liberty of taking the first bite—

“Enjoy...!”

—”OH!”

And, in an instant, Genesis dropped the cookie as if it were a steaming hot potato—which, all things considered, it probably could have been, given just how... how...

How malevolently SALTY the things were!

The flood of ungodly flavor surged into his mouth like a salted ocean of chocolate and dough, any semblance of sweetness engulfed in the thirsty saltiness, and Genesis found himself overcoming his extreme mysophobia as he grabbed Sephiroth’s water bottle and took a generous swig; then, as he continued to chug the liquid, he found the water bottle seized from his mouth as Angeal chugged the water for himself, bombarded with the same horrid assault on his senses, unintentionally catalyzing a desperate tug-of-war over the magical remedy, each managing to take a rapid sip before it was rapidly tugged away, and this pathetic display continued until nary a single bead of water was left in the silver vessel, completely drained like hungry dogs lapping at a puddle.

Only then, as the two SOLDIERs stood there panting, did the world come back into focus.

...What.

In.

Minerva’s.

MUFFIN—

Genesis’s eyes narrowed, and he glared at the spiky-haired First, who had sucessfully been, like the poor water bottle, drained off any color on his face.

“...ZACKARY—” he started again.

“I... uh...”

“You put... SALT in the COOKIES?”

“...You know, now that i’m thinking about it... I may have grabbed the wrong—”

“What kinda moronic JOKE was that?!”

“...Sugar does kinda look like salt...”

“Do I LOOK like I’m laughing?!”

“...They are both crystaline...”

“DO I?”

“...Should I start running?”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU.”

And the chase ensued, a blur of red leather hounding a poor, good-hearted SOLDIER out the door, down the hallway, and probably all through the building:

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY...!”

“Genesis...!” Angeal shouted—coughed—already smelling the flames, and he took off after his friend in fear of his dear student’s life. “Don’t you dare...!”

Meanwhile, Sephiroth remained in the First Class lounge, quite relaxed in his chair, and quite enjoying himself as he casually finished the salt-showered cookie in his hand.

He shrugged.

“I like it.”

And little he know that, his water bottle, sitting completely drained on the floor, had just inadvertently his spread anti-degradation DNA through the bodies of his two closest friends.

The world was saved.

[dork-a-doodle]

Cringe is dead and I’m redesigning my old UT/DR OC/Self-Insert: Echo (she/they)

Info dump about them below the cut!

So I originally made them in the wake of Deltarune’s release, when the whole “we, the players, are possessing Kris 😱” thing was very fresh and the whole Undertale Multiverse was still going strong. So naturally they started out as basically a self insert, the version of me that played Undertale and later Deltarune.

So a quick rundown of their lore (btw I make no apologies for the Mary Sue aspects of this):

They originally controlled Frisk, doing several different Runs, endlessly curious about the world

At the end of their most recent True Pacifist they find their way back in the True Lab and into a part of it they hadn’t seen before

While exploring they accidentally activated a machine from before Alphys’s time and get Gastered

…kind of

Instead of being fully “shattered across space and time” they’re just… slightly fractured across space and time

Tbh I like to think of it like they got hurled full force at the 4th wall and got stuck in it like jello

Not really breaking the 4th wall so much as jiggling it aggressively and gaining an new kind of perspective

This had some interesting consequences, including (but not limited to):

separating from Frisk (who runs out of the Lab in fear) and gaining a physical form of their own

the ability to slip into different universes at a whim

the inability to talk normally, now effectively “speaking” in text box noises (lmao get Animal Crossing-ed idiot) and thus can’t be understood by most people (with a few exceptions)

the ability to posses objects and other people (which they do feel the need to sometimes as their true form is off putting to most, though they try not to possess people if they can help it)

others probably? haven’t quite figured that out yet

Which these newfound abilities, they decide to explore the multiverse and see all the interesting things it has to offer

But first, they decide they want a traveling companion, so they don’t get lonely

And they know the perfect candidate, someone who understands what it’s like to have unfathomable power and the want to explore all possibilities with that power for your own entertainment and curiosity’s sake

Someone who really doesn’t have anything left to seek in this world

And damn it if Flowey isn’t very interested in that offer

This arrangement is a strangely balanced symbiosis

For Flowey:

traveling the multiverse gives him a kind of clean slate he could never achieve on his own, especially with the loss of his reset powers

the multiverse is also very interesting and fun to explore

they know what he’s been through and what kind of a person that’s made him better than anyone else. they understand it, and they know to judge him for it would be hypocritical

For Echo:

so long as Flowey is attached to them in some capacity he can understand their strange “speech” and frequently acts as a translator (they are also learning sign language to ease that burden)

he’s far more experienced in battle and frequently acts as protection in more aggressive universes

re: the point about mutual understanding

Flowey is also unable to absorb their soul, which means his power over them is limited and if he crosses a line they’re fully able to ditch is ass in any universe they want

It’s notable that while Echo’s curiosity can occasionally override their morality, they’re still more inclined to chose the kinder option

I consider them to be chaotic neutral, leaning towards chaotic good

(I also personally see Flowey as somewhere between true neutral and chaotic neutral, occasionally slipping into chaotic evil. What can I say, he’s a nuanced guy)

Anyway, they travel the multiverse together, experiencing new things, seeing interesting sights, causing chaos

Eventually they find themselves in the Deltarune side of the multiverse

The universe they end up in is one where the entity possessing Kris is an incredibly malevolent one

Or I should say, the entity that was supposed to be possessing Kris

As Echo senses the Bad Vibes approaching this random human child, they say “absolutely the fuck not” and possess Kris themself to block the entity

This does mean they have to drop Flowey to do this, so he’s just kinda in the background for the time being

From there it’s basically just Chapter 1 until the point when Kris rips out the soul and goes to eat some pie

While they’re distracted, Flowey climbs in and breaks open the cage so Echo can unpossess the soul and leave now that the malicious entity is gone

They do decide to stick around and check out these Dark Worlds

Luckily for them, while they were busy dealing with the classroom Dark World, Flowey took the time to explore the town and found this perfectly good empty vessel that someone seems to have discarded

Deciding not to question it, they possess the vessel and wait for a new Dark World to open so they can explore it together

And that’s the basics of their story (or as much of it as I have ironed out lol). Hopefully this hyperfixation stays with me cuz I’d love to explore their character a lot more 😁

[blorbologist]

Feeding a Flying City

[Aeor, by Pretty Useful Co.]

This started as a little exercise in my worldbuilding thoughts for some off-hand stuff mentioned in my current fic, but I uh. Got Into It. So enjoy, if you're into two thousand words of nerding out about fantasy economics and agriculture and spells. For the sake of context, this is specifically looking at Exandria's flying cities in the Age of Arcanum, working off D&D 5E's rules as written (so I'm avoiding inventing spells).

When tackling the Age of Arcanum in my fanfic, I knew going in that I wanted to use this space to stretch my worldbuilding muscles and fill in some of the space left by Matthew Mercer and Brennan Lee Mulligan with reasonably plausible meat and bones.

One thing I was excited to squint at was the issue of how the hell flying cites feed their populations. 

The ‘lonely city’ is a common fantasy trope, especially in visual media. Your towering bastion of civilization (or spire of evil) on the open plains, or beside a river, or deep in the mountains certainly makes for a great symbol. A flying city is really the ultimate version of this, completely disconnected from the petty ground below… and the farmland that usually would surround any metropolis. 

See, in medieval times, you only had so much time to transport good until they spoiled. Some could be more forgiving than others - however, given a city often aggregates political and financial elite, there is an expectation that they can get their fresh fruits, and decadent game. Even beyond freshness, if you have a lot of people in one place who are not actively growing their own crops, a lot of more-or-less processed food needs to get into the city daily. And though you could station your acres of farmland just over the hill so they don’t ruin the ~scenic approach~, that will cost more to transport. The fact is, having a lot of people - poor and rich - in one place requires a lot of food, every day, to feed them. And it has to come from somewhere.

(Off-topic note, medieval castles (not necessarily cities) were also there to, y’know, defend the populace. So they had to be both near enough to their peasants to respond to aggression, and near enough for the people to get to the castle for shelter when needed. Which is not relevant to this point.)

Magic, like refrigeration, greenhouses and GMO crops, allows a society to sidestep some of these issues. Which is great! But how the flying cities could use the resources they have to feed their population is half the fun in theorizing. 

To quickly recap what we know to be common to flying cities of the time:

Limited to the city only, usually a location with ground dense with brumestone (i.e., no farmland). 

Their limited ‘undergrounds’ are often fairly dense with more structures (Aeor’s many levels; the labyrinth and tons of administrative locations inside Avalir).

They are nomadic and engage in trade (both with eachother and grounded cities, like Vasselheim).

… but they all likely came from landed roots, and potentially were once perfectly normal cities. 

So. How do you feed your people while flying a path that might take years to travel (ex: Avalir’s 7-year trek), especially between trade stops?

The last surviving flying city is Draconia, which is really fragments of a larger nomadic city that decided to remain fairly sedentary compared to its predecessors. Its answer was probably pretty simple: given that Draconia hovered within Dreemoth Ravine, the tailed dragonborn could just… collect a tithe of crops from the enslaved ravenites. It’s already canon that they were put to work in the mines, so working the land also unfortunately makes sense. It’s unclear how the food then got up to the city (skyships, given they have ready brumestone access?), but given Draconia seems to be an exception to the rules I can (mostly) confidently rule out ‘the Age of Arcanum was built on abusing the grounded cities and towns, potentially requiring an age of magically-enhanced farming to provide for the people above and/or risking the farmers going hungry in favor of the mageocracies’. 

Here’s where magic offers numerous solutions, and just as many weird problems! 

First of all, the stupidly isolated nature of flying cities means that any method of bringing food in has to be extremely structured. Mom and pop can’t just bring the donkey to the farmer’s market to sell their goods in Avalir; to get there you need to fly (more scheduled) or teleport (requires a mage, and limited quantities of goods). So from the getgo a lot of financial control is likely in the cities’ hands. Which… is not all too dissimilar from history, but the lack of flexibility is probably more striking here. Shit, I was hoping to get away from Draconia’s grim worldbuilding.

It also places flying cities in a role very similar to an advancing army, requiring food as they march to be drawn from the surrounding lands. While soldiers can break off and loot towns they pass through, a flying city probably can’t just dock in the middle of farmland, grab all the corn and bolt. So the need for a more organized food transport likely helps protect towns from that exploitation. (Though, with the military posturing of Avalir and Aeor, I could see flying cities strong-arming support from grounded ones in exchange for promised protection/aid if they needed it.)

Of course, when docked at another city (Avalir stayed at Vasselheim for ten days in the weeks before the Calamity), they can fairly easily trade with the surrounding towns there… who are also providing for the existing city. Hosting a flying city must be a huge logistics nightmare, but economically worth the headache. 

(Vasselheim likely has a leg up in that it has both a sitting population of mages, such as Vespin pre-fuckup, and the likes of Clerics, who I’ll get to soonish.)

In EXU: Calamity, skyships (and an offhand mention of something called an ornithopter) already exist, which could facilitate the bulk transport of goods. Based on the speed of the Silver Sun in Campaign 3 (4-5 days to cover ~700 miles translates to a speed of ~5-6.5 knots; for context that seems to be about the middling range for a medieval tradeship), this seems like an excellent way of transporting goods that do not spoil easily. Or use arcane equivalents to the canon Bag of Colding to help keep things fresh longer. However, as noted above, this would require a lot of community organization to get crops together when the skyship shows up for harvest.

The tricky thing is that Avalir, at least, follows leylines as it travels. So if there was intent to line up its passes over farmland with their harvest season - to minimize transport distance - it might be difficult to coordinate. Moreover, with an implied many flying cities, and no clear territorial delimitations between their routes (especially if they’re all following leylines; but Avalir at least made stops in Issylra, Gwessar/Tal’Dorei, and Dorumas/the Shattered Teeth at least), I wonder if there would be economic conflict over which cities could be highest bidder for the freshest crops. Which could be Interesting. 

(I wonder if sky piracy, or sky privateering, was a thing in the Age of Arcanum. Nydas is said to have been a pirate on the actual seas, so aquatic trade is still going strong, but given the flying cities are so reliant on limited methods to get food… you could put a lot of pressure on a rival city by capturing a few key skyships full of the last harvests before winter.)

Another option is teleportation. Avalir, after all, has an entire guild devoted to teleporting people around, so critical to its functioning that part of the Betrayers’ plan was to leave them without leadership when they struck. However, teleportation is very much a creature-oriented form of transportation; perhaps you could bring up a herd of cattle for slaughter, but that’s a pretty damn high spell slot for beef.

Avalir is in a fortuitous situation, in that it has a longstanding relationship with the Gau Drashari; druids, well-known masters of plant and animal life. In theory, this could mean Plant Growth casts to increase harvests… but at this time the Gau Drashari specifically only live in Caithmoira, guarding this holy site. So hopping from one druid-boosted farmland to another is unlikely. 

Well, if transporting food to the cities is such an issue, why not produce food in the cities?

While magical greenhouses must account for some luxury fresh goods for sure, I really don’t think the cities as illustrated have enough real estate to actually support their whole populations like this. Like I noted above, of the two cities we know really well, their insides are already full of labs and labyrinths and all sorts of things probably best kept away from your food supply. 

D&D 5E spells offer another answer, and another piece of potentially complicated worldbuilding: Create Food and Water. Per the spell description, it creates enough food to feed 15 people for 24 hours, which seems to neatly solve all our problems! Until you realize the food is explicitly bland (bet you the mages turn up their noses at it), vanishes if not consumed after 24 hours (so that’s a daily 3rd level spell slot from some poor schmuck), and is mostly limited to Paladins and Clerics. You know, godly people, who are so fondly looked upon by the mageocracies. Artificers, at least, are more in line with the Age of Arcanum attitude - but we don’t see any in Calamity, so it’s unclear if the class ‘exists’ per say in the time period. Reducing powerful Paladins and Clerics to food dispensaries - and not even good food, probably for the lower class - would fit in neatly with how the powers of the divine are seen as lesser. Goodberry falls into a similar role: useful, but probably something mages would avoid.

Speaking of spells, let’s get a little fucked up, hm? Who is to say a mage couldn’t just. Summon some pigs to be served up as bacon tomorrow? Well. Conjure Animals specifically says the animals are actually fey, and vanish when their HP reaches 0. Summon Beasts? Same thing. Find Steed? You guessed it. So magic can help us grow food, and transport it, and preserve it, but not actually make it out of nothing. (If there’s a spell I’m missing that completely solves this, please let me know, but I can’t really find one.)

My final little thought came watching geese migrate some time ago. The passenger pigeon has been extinct for… a hundred and ten years, now. But in its hayday, flocks of the birds would literally cloud the sky. Exandria is home to far more stunning beasts than pigeons, and hunting flying game is likely a lot easier when you yourself are flying too. 

Sure, you can apply this to actual fishing when the cities are over the seas, but! Imagine fishing boats but for birds and all manner of winged beasts in great flocks, netting and catching them to haul in. Maybe the magical equivalent of those helicopter boar hunts to deal with invasive populations, but landing at all introduces a whole lot more hassle. Big net and flying device = fresh meat, with an arcane twist.

So: how do you feed a flying city? Especially one with a lavish lifestyle as seen in Avalir, or a hard research focus as in Aeor?

Have an extremely regimented relationship with the towns on your path (likely in competition with other flying cities using these leylines when you are) or that otherwise have food you need. Make sure skyships arrive in time for the harvests. Miss that and things get dicey. 

Supplement this with trade, both with other flying cities and grounded ones when docked. However, docked time has to be limited to not risk starving out the countryside surrounding the city hosting you.

Small deliveries, especially of fresh livestock, can be accomplished through Porter’s Guild or equivalent.

Magically preserve food thus obtained to survive until your schedule and harvests of X Y z goods next align. 

City-based organizations can ‘fish’ for birds as the city flies (or potentially even actually fish as they fly over the ocean) for fresh meat.

Hope to gods (but without hoping to the gods because they’re schmucks) that you time your pick-ups right, that there are no famines, or early frosts, that no one steals your fucking skyships our outbids you on a key agricultural contract, or casts Dispel Magic and makes your food all spoil.

When the carefully-scheduled management of the city’s resources fails, turn to your diviners or healers and have them feed the masses with bland crackers while the Somnovem or Ring of Gold continue eating honeyed lamb and figs. 

If you read this far, I'm super flattered you shifted through my rambles! I'll gladly discuss any glaring mistakes or things I've overlooked; this is only what I considered in worldbuilding for a fic, and I don't pretend to be an expert on medieval agriculture or economic practices.

This was still very fun to (over)think about <3

(Water, of course, would be a similar limiting factor, but is easy enough to magically purify, and would not be too bland when made by Create Food and Water, so I didn’t bring it up.)

[zoe-oneesama]

ONE MORE EPISODE LEFT TO WRITE! CONGRATULATIONS!! 🎉🎊 Based on everything we’ve seen up to this point in-show, what are your thoughts on Nathalie, her Catalyst akuma and Mayura villain persona, and the Heroes’ Day Season 2 two-parter after your fresh rewatch of the episodes?

I'll be watching both parts at once, but since I'll probably have to rewatch part 2: "Mayura" when I finish my own part 1, I'll mostly focus on Part 1: "Catalyst", with some bleed in from Part 2. I'll be taking a linear critique of the episode in a stream of consciousness way.

To start, "Heroes' Day" is not a real French holiday, yet Marinette's parents say it's come again "just like every year", implying that this has been going on for multiple years? Implying that a Hero Day based off your local superheroes have been happening for YEARS while Marinette and Adrien are in the same class, in the same school year....make it make sense.

Of course, this could be a totally in universe regular holiday that USED to be about just doing good deeds for a day that they adopted to theme around their superheroes, what do I know.

About those good deeds...Marinette deserves slack here. She does good deeds for her friends all the freaking time, but the first part of the two episodes puts a lot of pressure for her to not only do a Good Deed but a Good Enough Good Deed, which to me defeats the purpose of a good deed. You're supposed to do good deeds for the sake of being kind and improving the world, not for...recognition. Or maybe they're being graded...

This feels like a dropped plot line, which is a shame because this was actually a decent lesson for Marinette for once about taking on too much and pressuring herself. Except for Chloe, Marinette is the only person demanding Marinette do a Good Enough Deed, to the point of making a promise she couldn't keep. (Though it's dumb she feels pressured thanks to CHLOE of all people, when all the richest girl in Paris is offering is her own autographs). Yet they only go part way and nearly completely drop this plot line in the second half.

You know, instead of that scene of Adrien meeting Marinette on the steps and assuming he's not invited, they could've used that time for Marinette to admit to Adrien that she panicked and is struggling to keep to her word. Marinette could've actually confided in Adrien, showing their friendship by allowing her to be vulnerable with him about how she was feeling inadequate compared to everyone else and how these feelings spurred her into trouble. This also would've been a great lead in for the end of the two parter:

In Part 2, the picnic/taste testing that Marinette promised but had no time for? It still happens. How? According to Adrien at the end of his speech, the class "jumped at the chance to help". Would've been nice to see any of that, or see any REAL conclusion to Marinette's issue in these episodes, which was putting too much pressure on herself and not telling the truth when it became overwhelming. Even her mom tells her that bravely admitting when you've messed up is heroic, but...Marinette never tells anyone.

On screen anyway.

By having Marinette tell Adrien, Adrien could've rounded up the class to make the picnic happen. And Marinette should've been distraught - this was supposed to be HER good deed yet THEY did all the work! She failed! And then the class disagrees. She does good deeds all the time! Checking in on Ivan after he was an akuma! Breaking Juleka's picture curse! Bringing Marc and Nathaniel together! A single day can't compare to the number of things she's done for everyone here! And now it's their turn to do something for her!

And then she's brought to tears and kisses his cheek in thanks blah blah blah you've seen canon. Instead it's treated as a "oh yeah, we did that thing with Marinette in the first part, uhhh, that's resolved now, okay?" What a waste.

Actually I'm sure this is a completely dropped plot line because Adrien says "Like Rose said earlier" when she didn't say anything.

Where were we? Oh right, Lila's first sighting in a whole season.

Alya here says Marinette is jealous of Lila for trying to hit on Adrien (or in the French, "seduce"~ lol). I'd just like Alya to remember that for later when she actually believes Lila when she says she doesn't have feelings for Adrien, but we all know continuity doesn't live here.

Speaking of, I'm not surprised how many salt fics paint Lila's (first) mom as an idiot. Right after Lila tells her mom that Principal Damocles is also stuck as an akuma thanks to Ladybug's "incompetence", a giant floating balloon of Ladybug floats past her bedroom window.

Woman, how you gonna believe that Paris' heroes are incompetent on the word of your daughter while Paris throws a Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade in her honor? (I also assume this woman doesn't talk to anyone other than Lila despite apparently being out of the house so often that they don't even share breakfast together. Sure ZAG.) But at least I get to enjoy Gabriel deliberately poking the bear by bringing up Volpina when she was completely and utterly irrelevant. That did in fact make me laugh.

Oh, this is something that I only just put together, but Alya says her good deed was going to the Mayor and getting him to sign off on making the school accessible for disabled students, and we see in this episode on-wards that the school has a ramp. I HAD noticed the ramp in Season 3, but I had completely forgotten that Alya talked about it here at the end of Season 2. So, wow! Good continuity detail, Zag! You get one gold star. ⭐

(though that ramp is hella steep)

I was about to also praise the continuity of Gabriel bringing up financing a Ladybug movie, since that seemed to be setting up "Animaestro"...but then he says it's playing that day (on EVERY tv channel?!). But..."Animaestro" was the movie's premiere...So I guess there's another in universe Ladybug movie ( funded by a fashion director?) that we'll never see. U_U

Damn, I was gonna point out the nepotism of hiring your primary sponsor's son to voice act the male lead, but I guess I can't anymore, bummer 😗

I do make a mental note of the things Lila is calling Ladybug as she's cycling through news coverage. "Liar. Traitor. Coward." Just...interesting. Where did Ladybug lie? Where did Ladybug betray Lila? Where did she run and hide? Interesting, interesting, interesting.

And betrayals only happen when there's trust between you, in order for Ladybug to "betray" Lila she would've had to have Lila's trust or loyalty to begin with.

Even here she didn't accept the akuma as willingly as she did in "Chameleon", but she still greeted Hawkmoth like an old friend, and is DELIGHTED to ruin everyone's Heroes' Day and traumatize them with her illusion for a chance to help Hawkmoth succeed, just to get back at Ladybug. Yikes.

Lmao, not the unfinished png photoshop background on the flute. Great quality check, guys.

I do think this is the first time I actually thought Hawkmoth did something smart. After putting all his eggs in the Audrey/Style Queen basket and then handing the basket to Chloe/Queen Wasp, I wasn't too impressed with him, but this plan was actually good. (I mean it should've PARTIALLY fallen apart once people saw both the Unakumatized Ladybug AND Chat Noir now that we know people can reject their akumas, but sure. We didn't know it at THIS point, so it seems smart.)

But all this energy could've just been channeled into making the ultimate doctor akuma. I mean, you literally made a Miraculous Holder Power Booster with Catalyst, so I'm just saying what we've all been saying~

"I know, it wouldn't be very heroic to use my powers on my personal business" - GIRL at this point YOU'VE EARNED IT, SCREW what Tikki says!

This does make it the second time someone's told Marinette to just come clean to her friends. Why did they drop this plot line after pushing it so hard?!?!?!

"You don't have enough cake for me, do you?" Sir, did you pull a muscle with that leap?! I guess the intention of this scene was that Marinette was ABOUT to come clean to her friends but Adrien's excitement put the pressure for her to pull off the picnic back on. Again, there is no solid conclusion for this part of the story, Marinette just festers on it until there's akuma stuff to deal with. Wait, maybe the mass akuma outbreak is how she really got out of it... "Sorry guys I TOTALLY had this whole thing planned, but, you know. Akumas. Lots of them. Couldn't do it."

How satisfying. 🙃

"Heroes' Day is now...meaningless!" This is like in Christmas movies when people say Christmas is RUINED because a tree caught fire or Santa didn't come. Did the Whos in Whoville teach you nothing, that's the not the true meaning of Christmas and Superheroes are not the true meaning of Heroes Day when you set it up as a reoccurring holiday where people go the extra mile to be kind to one another!

Sorry, this is nit picky, like really nit picky, but don't create a fictional holiday that's about joy and kindness and then "ruin" it by something only tangentially related. I know it's totally just to get the plot going forward, but I'm too old and have seen this too many times (mostly in Christmas media) and it starts to grate on you. Just make the holiday a new one in tribute TO the heroes, then it can be ruined by the heroes turning bad, otherwise you're killing your message about the Everyday Heroes doing Good Deeds to Keep the World a Kind and Happy Place by putting all the weight on the SUPERNATURAL EXTRAORDINARY FIGURES THAT NORMAL HUMANS COULD NEVER COMPARE TO!

*huff huff*

So...Sabrina should know what's up with Lila at least a little, right? Since Ladybug firmly believes Volpina was involved, right? Well, based off some spoilers, MAYBE (strong maybe, this is speculation entirely), Sabrina might finally be using this knowledge. You know, 3 Seasons later. Maybe. They've been doing pretty decent at pulling stuff from earlier seasons, even if it DOES feel too little too late, so it's possible that Sabrina will FINALLY remember this moment with Ladybug.

"You're Rena Rouge and you didn't tell me?!" You didn't tell her you were Carapace either, but I see this is where it freaking starts with you young man. I remember this being a funny moment but hindsight has ruined it, so, thanks for that "Rocketear". 🙃

See, THESE are the Adrien/Chloe moments that I wanted: annoying sibling energy 100%. But alas, this is ALSO ruined. Chloe is calling it her Miraculous, give me MY Miraculous, putting down Chat Noir as Ladybug's "underling". This was never going to work.

Wow, Nora totally nailed it: "If he's talking to Ladybug, then Ladybug and Mr. Whiskers are still on the good side!" I thought she was supposed to be the dumb one?

Anyway, that's part 1 (or at least most of what I have to say about it). As a stand alone, this feels like a huge lead up, which I think gets mostly paid off on the akuma side of things...and definitely not on the Marinette side of things. Wah wah.

I don't have many feelings on Nathalie, Catalyst, or Mayura since they're barely in the first part (or not in it lol) and when she is in it she feels very OOC - smiling a lot, shy glances to the side, all in to go full Team Rocket with Hawkmoth. Up until now she's been so peripheral that seeing her main stage (though again, just barely) is so jarring.

Well, we'll see her "shine" in the next part I guess.

[literary-motif]

Fastidious Valour

Isaac Rhoades x reader

For the sake of drama, let us discard the canon timeline a little…

Vic finds you going through Isaac's files.

Warnings: physical violence against the reader, choking (not the good kind)

Leafing through papers was a welcome change to cleaning. You had gotten so used to the fresh smells of the various cleaning products Isaac kept stocked plentily under the sink, that the dusty scent of the casefiles in your hands made a rush of excitement curse through you. It was a change, it was a mystery. It was something that truly mattered, something that could change somebody’s life. If you worked hard enough, researched thoroughly, thought of every possible outcome, and reasoned your way through the strings of probability, you might even be able to save that life. 

This line of work you were only recently allowed to contribute to was finally something solid that stopped you from feeling as if you were only going through the motions each day. It was a breath of fresh air, for which you could not be more grateful. And in truth, working as an assistant to Isaac was the best job you could have hoped for.

The files to his case were strewn about haphazardly on his large mahogany desk. You shook your head, wondering how he managed to find documents in the chaos spread out on the wood. 

Your own papers were sorted into neat piles according to the aspect of the case they connected with. The small desk placed at an angle to Isaac’s — “If you are my assistant in this,” Isaac had said, with a fond smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “then it is only right that you should have your own desk, Pickle” — did not leave enough space for chaos, so you had no choice but to sort your evidence if you wanted to have an overview and enough space to take notes. 

To both of your surprise, you had started to notice that your cases were intertwined, which meant that you now found yourself leaning over Isaac’s desk while the man himself prepared for a meeting with Vic, shuffling papers into stacks to find the changed testament of the first and hopefully last victim.

“Pity,” Vic’s sharp tone made you jump, knocking down one of the piles you had made of the documents and sending them sprawling across the carpeted floor. Enormered in your work, you must have overheard the front door opening. You turned around in surprise, a comment about his ability to silently sneak up on people dying on your tongue as you saw the dark, furious expression on his face. “I thought he had finally found someone worth his time,” Vic spat, moving from blocking the doorway to approaching you with quick steps. 

“What?” you asked in confusion, entirely caught off guard by Vic’s harsh words. You wracked your brain to search for anything that could have been cause for his sudden rage towards you, but you came up empty. “What do you mean?” you asked, but the frown on your face vanished, replaced with a wide eyes look as Vic came uncomfortably close, leaning over you threateningly as if it was your first meeting all over again. 

You could see the hatred burning in his eyes, the disgust evident in the twist of his mouth. It made your breath catch in your throat, your heart starting to beat faster in fear. What was going on with him? You could handle yourself, so much was true, but Vic loomed over you effortlessly, outmatching you both in strength and experience. Still, no matter the threat you now suddenly perceived him as, you could not bring yourself to grab one of the sharp objects set on the edge of Isaac’s desk and defend yourself with it.

Vic moved his hand so fast that you hardly registered the slap. Reality hit you as you opened your eyes again, one of your hands braced against the desk to keep yourself upright and your head turned to the side, looking at the shelf of overflowing binders. Your ears were ringing, Vic’s voice sounding as if it came from underwater. The room suddenly felt void of air and you gasped quietly, leaning heavily against the desk that started to feel like the brick wall of a building in a dark alley. 

“Don’t play stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” Vic said, gripping the front of your shirt and making you lose your footing. You stumbled and before you could catch yourself, he slammed you into the shelf. 

The force of the collision knocked the breath out of you, and a few binders fell to the floor as you scrambled for something to keep yourself upright. “Wait,” you rasped breathlessly as Vic approached again. Your head was ringing and you were sure bruises would form on your back where you had hit the shelf, the ache already making you wince in pain. Your heart was hammering quickly against your ribcage, both from shock and fear. You were beginning to feel lightheaded. 

There was no reason for Vic to be doing this and the thought that you did not know how to resolve this clear miscommunication because you did not know what it was about made a new wave of panic crash over you. There was not enough air in your lungs to articulate this eloquently, however. 

“Wait, Vic—” you wheezed, but he did not care, raising his hands to your neck and pressing you against the shelf instead. You choked, unable to breathe. On instinct, your hands flew to his wrists, trying to wrench them away from your throat. It was futile, he was stronger than you. His grip was steadfast and unrelenting, crushing you under his force. 

You gasped, struggling for air. Vic’s grip on you was unforgiving, choking you with all his supreme strength. “I told you I would end you if you betrayed him,” he growled, the crushing hold on your throat tightening, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Your lungs were burning, chest convulsing through lack of breath. Vic’s words did not make sense in your head and there was no thought other than the overwhelming need for air. Vic must have felt your fluttering heartbeat against the palm of his hands from how deafeningly it sounded in your own ears.

Tears were gathering in your eyes, caused by the fear and panic you felt — helpless again. “Is—” you choked quietly, trying to call for the only person who had ever cared to help you, “Isc—” But your voice carried no strength. As a last effort, you reached out your hand and threw down the things resting on the shelf with your remaining energy, hoping desperately the commotion would attract Isaac’s attention.

The edges of your vision were starting to fizzle into black. You tried to pry his fingers away to loosen his grip on your throat. The desperation for air, to breathe, made your movements frantic. Your hands were shaking and you could not steady your fingers enough to pry his away. 

“Let them go!” you registered Isaac’s voice faintly, seeing him in your swimming vision as he rushed towards you from where he had stood frozen in the doorway. 

“I coughed them going through your—” Vic answered bitterly before Isaac interrupted.

“Let them go, Vic!” he shouted, gripping the shoulder of his friend and yanking him back. Vic released you, stumbling back a few steps, shocked by Isaac’s panicked wide eyes. 

You choked, heaving in breaths of air. Unsteadily, you sank to the floor, bracing yourself against the carpet on your hands as you coughed. You fought to gulp in air and calm your breathing, but the sharp fear still lodged in your chest made that nearly impossible. “Isaac—” you gasped, reaching out your hand to hold onto him. The world was swimming dangerously around you and you feared you would drown or fall away if you did not have Isaac to hold onto.

Isaac regarded your shaking frame worriedly, his eyes shining with compassion and regret. “Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, allowing your weak grip on his arm. “I’ve got you, you’re safe. I’m here, I’ve got you,” he said, wringing his arm around your upper body to keep you upright as another coughing fit overtook you. “Here, lean on me, it’s alright,” he whispered, scooting closer for you to rest against his chest. 

After a moment of holding you securely in his arms and taking a few deep breaths of his own, Isaac raised his eyes to look at Vic. “They did not betray me,” he said coldly, his eyes fixed on Vic who was looking back at him quizzically, “I think it’s best if you go now.”

Rage was simmering violently under the facade of icy indifference Isaac tried to hold onto. True, Vic did not know, and it was comforting to know that he cared so much for him, but that thought was hard to hold onto when he could see you shaking against his chest, hear your unsteady, gasping breaths, and feel the tight, trembling grip you had onto him as if he were the only thing holding you together. 

“I don’t—” Isaac started, but bit his lip to keep from finishing the sentence. “Go. Leave the documents. I will contact you.” 

Vic looked ready to argue, but thought better of it as he saw the burning anger in Isaac’s eyes. He placed the envelope on the small desk, looked at it a moment longer and whispered a quiet, “oh.” He looked back at the two of you and took his leave, regret weighing heavily on his heart at having overlooked a clue so plainly visible.

Part II

[hannahssimblr]

Not coming anymore

Jen’s text message comes in when I’ve already left the house, and I groan as I pull my phone out to see it on the screen. 

Are you serious? I’ve already left the house, you have no idea wh-

I delete the message and phone her instead. She picks up after one ring. 

“Jen, seriously?” 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“What the hell? My mom was going out again tonight and I had to sort a babysitter for Ivy. It took me an hour, and now I've already showered and changed my clothes. I'm on the way to the beach, are you seriously telling me I have to turn back and undo everything I've just done?”

A pause, “No, you can go. I just can’t.”

“Wh-” I fling my arm up and sigh. She can’t expect me to hang out with the emos without her. What if they get peckish and start eating me? 

“Michelle isn’t allowed to go, so she doesn’t want me to go either.” 

“Oh I see, so Michelle just asked at the last minute. And was shocked and appalled that she’s not allowed? How stupid is that, my god, she isn’t allowed to do anything. Why would she think her parents would let her do this without advanced permission seventy-two hours in advance?”

“Hey! Stop ranting at me! It’s not my fault! I told her I was going to go out anyway and she gave out to me and now we’re mad at each other, okay?” 

“She’s miserable so she needs you to be miserable too?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

I scoff, “that makes no sense.”

“Yeah well a lot of things don’t make sense in Michelle’s world.”

I sigh and turn to face the sea. The sun has only begun to set and toss colour over the clouds. It’s a nice evening, the kind that makes you guilty about staying in, and so my annoyance at Jen morphs quickly into annoyance on her behalf. “Can’t you just come anyway?”

“No, I’m too upset now.”

“Jen…”

“You should go. I already told Evan you were going to meet him there, and you could probably use the fresh air and conversation… I can’t bear to think about you stuck in your room drawing your own fucking toes on an evening like this.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll still go.”

“Good, I’ll talk to you later, and you can tell me all about what happened.”

“I’ll come over, yeah?” 

“If it’s not too late.”

“Bye, Jen.” 

“Yep.”

Speaking of Evan, I spot him up ahead, dashing over the grassy bank towards the path with his dirty old school bag bobbing on his back. I call out to him but he doesn’t hear me, so stuffing my phone back into my pocket I begin an easy jog toward him.

“Evan,” I do a half jump onto his shoulders and he almost dies with fright, his knees practically going from under him, and twists around combatively to realise it’s only me. 

“Fuck,” he wheezes, “Fuck sake!” He yanks his earbuds out, pulsing with the tinny beats of some pop punk song , “You fucking scared me!” 

“I know, I’m sorry, I need to stop doing that, it’s just a habit.”

“Yeah, God.” He combs fingers through his floppy fringe and sets it in place in a gesture, habitual and a bit compulsive, that he repeats constantly.

I fall into step with him once he has gathered himself and I smirk, “Why are you so jumpy, Evan?”

“I dunno.”

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” 

“Nothing, I just… This is how I am. I don’t like it when people sneak up on me, it makes me nervous.”

“C’mon, it’s either that you’re afraid of getting beaten up or you’re afraid of getting caught doing something you shouldn’t, that’s what I think.”

“Wow, aren’t you full of theories?”

I laugh, “And related to all this, what’s in your locker, Evan? What are you always guarding it for?”

The corner of his mouth ticks up as he glances at me, “My locker? Do you really want to know?”

It's not like I care that much, because honestly, how exciting can it really be? It's the locker of a seventeen year old boy, so it probably contains a mouldy lunchbox and the crumpled remains of last month's chemistry assignment, but Evan seems pleased that I've asked him about it. I feign interest for his sake.

“Well, yeah, of course I do.”

He swings his bag off his back and fumbles through the front pocket. It’s got a huge ink stain on it and the zip has broken, so it’s just hanging wide open, “I’m showing you because I know you probably won’t tell anyone, you know, seeing as you don’t really have friends anymore.”

“Harsh,” I say, but not untrue. Even since the cowards from rugby took Fitzy’s side in our tussle over Alison’s nudes my lunchtime calendar has looked a lot emptier than it used to. Where there used to be banter at the picnic benches there is now... decidedly nothing at all, save, maybe, for a few unimpressed glances my way, an accidental or not-so-accidental shove against my shoulder in the hallway. Maybe my absorption in art is related to this somehow, but I haven’t been in the headspace to psychoanalyse myself that much lately. My mind is so full of values, tone, shape, and line quality that it has (blissfully) no room for other, less interesting things...

But, as it appears, this is interesting.

Evan pulls out a bag of pills, about twenty, all blue with little batman symbols on them, then digs his hand back in for another, this time filled with green buds.

I look at him and say simply, “You’re a drug dealer.”

“Yeah, man.”

“That makes sense.”

“Yeah, I've been at it a while now, I think I have a pretty good business going with it and all... So if you’re ever looking for something, you know…”

“You sell to Alison.”

“Uh huh,” He stuffs the baggies back into the front pocket after a rather over the top glance around him, like he thinks this empty street is suddenly going to burst to life with guards and sirens coming to hunt him down, throw him in handcuffs with a boot against the back of his neck and toss him in Mountjoy prison, like there are no criminals wanted more in Dublin city than Evan Henley and his fifty bag of weed. “She comes to me from time to time, not lately though.”

“Yeah,” I cough out a laugh, “I took your molly a few months ago. It was shit.”

He shrugs, “I get what I can get, not my fault.”

“Hm.”

“You could go to someone else, you know, but there actually isn't anyone else in our school, is there? I have a monopoly.”

“Fair.”

“You won’t like, tell Michelle or anything though, will you?”

I stare at him incredulously, “Michelle doesn’t know?”

“No, she hates all this stuff, like, she’s really strict about all drugs and shit and I just know she'll blow up at me and start shouting and roaring if she knew about it. I’d just rather not deal with it.”

I pause to consider this. It probably isn’t any real harm keeping this from her, is it? It’s not like she needs to know, and realistically if she did she would only freak out and and tell Jen, and then if Jen knew that someone close to her was in possession of any of this stuff she might-

“Yeah, no worries, I won’t tell her.”

He pats my shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, so I guess we're real buddies now, “Ah, thanks Jude. Had a feeling I could trust you with this stuff.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[theonlyendersgamefan]

No spoilers

SHADOWS IN FLIGHT IS ACTUALLY GOOD??

I genuinely forgot that Orson Scott Card is a competent sci-fi author. Every other shadow book has me like “please let this be a normal feild trip” and then you get 100k words of the slowest Mormon manifesto disguised as political thriller. (Except for shadow of the giant (they could never make me hate you, shadow of the giant))

Shadows in flight is classic 80s sci-fi and relative to the rest of OSC’s library it only has a little bit of sudo-incest. But even outside of that I’m also just really engaged with the story and junk. And even if the story was entirely non existent Cards distinct writing style from Enders game and speaker for the dead, which was lacking in the first half of the shadow saga imo, returns here which is a breath of fresh air.

I feel I should mention this early on just for transparency sake but, a positive book review by me is entirely useless because I will rate a book 5 starts purely based on my own ability to creat fun mental visualization out of it.

Let me explain. Delving truely a tiny bit into spoiler territory.

At some point a group is in a hallway in 0g and they’re all geard up. My own interpretation of this scene has this group, who is not usually especially discreet, be as disciplined as a highly trained swat team. In reality, text on paper, their gear is no more then rudimentary. Just as a consequence of not needing anything more. They are probably moving as instinct guides them. In my mind, however, they are fully bravo 6 going dark. No wasted movement, swift and efficient. The entire atmosphere of the story changes, they are having conversations through coms and I will mentally add in radio chatter even if it doesn’t make sense. Or I’ll make up a whole dramatic sequence for them opening a hatch or turning a corner. It’s fun as a little brain exercise but it’s not black on white text so my review of the book, which is based partly on the above, is biased because I imagined it in a way that I would like best.

What I can say is that this book is much less intrusive than the rest of the shadow saga. Orson Scott Card still can’t help but tell us directly what we’re supposed to think and HIS interpretation but in this book I feel that he’s taking a similar approach as speaker for the dead. Each character is written strongly enough that they can disagree on a conclusion based on the same information and neither is pitted to be explicitly wrong by the book (like a couple other shadow books I could name (I HATE SHADOW PUPPETS (Why waste such a goo name on such a boring book))).

Overall the book does give you more space to breath and more time in between receiving information and the characters declaring their own opinions. I actually several times got to the conclusion of one of the characters before they did because they all think their conclusions out. Instead of starting with the answer and condescending to everyone about how obvious the reasoning is later.

I’m also a big fan of the tech in this book. It’s much more grounded then in say xenocide. Advanced but based in concepts of physics and chemistry and biology that are common enough knowledge. You don’t feel overwhelmed or like you just have to accept that this is true and not gibberish.

Anyway SHADOWS IN PEAK.

I definitely didn’t write out all my thoughts here partially because I’m trying to stay as far from spoilers as I can and partially because I’m just writing down ideas as they come to me (is that obvious. I’ll write more about this book for the foreseeable future actually, it’s becoming my favourite shadow book (shadow of the giant in a close second but it’s becoming a more distant second which each page of shadows in flight)

I also haven’t actually finished the book.. I’m half way through and had to talk about it, soz.

[killercooksblog]

KillerCook Baking Challenge

Howdy - In celebration of starting this blog, I present a challenge! If you've read the book, you'll know the first chapter was about BROWNIES! AKA the best dessert ever, probably. I'll post it below so if you have no idea what I'm talking about you can catch up and participate!

I love a good brownie, and I think everyone has their own unique way of baking goods that makes the recipe special in its own way! Yes, even box mix, cause I know not everyone is following those instructions all the time. If you're a raw batter eater, you're amongst safe company!

The challenge: I want you to make a pan of brownies with you're own secret ingredient that makes it *chef's kiss.* To participate, you gotta submit a pic of your brownie platter to my submissions or ask box by 3:00 PM EST Saturday, June 8th. Additionally, you need to submit a summary of the flavor and texture of your recipe, without saying the name of your secret ingredient.

For example: in my double mint chocolate brownies chapter, I would summarize it as - a dulcet double layer of cacao richness that's not too cakey and not too moist, that will leave you with a fresh and happy ending.

Or something like that. Get creative! I wanna rate your brownies! I'll be playing along too and for the sake of it, I won't be doing mint chips so I can leave y'all guessing too ;)

With the camera set in place, Killer dusted his apron and straightened his helmet one last time before pressing the ‘Go Live’ button, muttering a quick, "It's show time," under his breath.

“Hello, Killer here,” raising a hand in the air, the quarter sleeve of his dress shirt rolled neatly on his forearm. “Time for another day of relaxing vibes and delicious desserts. Today, I’m making Double Chocolate Mint Brownies. I love a goody, gooey brownie, especially when there’s mini chocolate chips and ganache involved.”

As he spoke the well-rehearsed introduction, Killer wandered around the kitchen pulling out mixing tools and fixing himself a glass of bubble milk tea, congregating on the island countertop. Oven already preheated, eggs and butter on standby and at room temperature. Slurping up a tapioca ball, he paused for a minute while he chewed.

“Mm, ‘scuse me, didn’t expect that one to come up all the way. Tasty. Moving on, you know my number one motto: A clean and sterile working environment is best when dealing with things you intend to eat. And please, enough with the Jason Vorhees jokes, my mask looks nothing like his. I’m trying to make a name for myself as an independent serial killer……of hunger and all your hearts,” he brought his hands together to make a heart shape for the audience.

The ping of a microtransaction being made caught Killer’s attention, leaning close to his phone. Someone had bought and redeemed a highlighted message, and it was one of those moments he wished he hadn’t added that incentive, now being forced to read and answer it live.

“MurderinoSquadAssemble has this to say – ‘a serial killer of hunger and OUR hearts? Seems sus but ok. #redflagbehavior.’ Calm down armchair detective. For the record, I haven’t been caught yet and it won’t be to the likes of you.”

Biting down a chuckle, Killer stepped back to put on plastic gloves, a baking hat, and his favorite apron. It was a faded blue color but what really made it endearing for him, was the print.

That’s Hot

It had a small whisk and measuring spoons sprawled on the bottom, and the capital T had a baker’s hat falling off it. Underneath the text, a stovetop on fire. A gift from Kid on his 25th birthday.

Smiling privately, Killer turned to give the audience his side profile as he tied the apron strings. His dress shirt clung to his muscled arms, threatening to burst if he flexed too hard. His ass looked firm and thick in the dark chino relaxed pants he wore.

Prepping the baking tray, Killer explained the ingredients he was using and his choices for alternatives. He preferred to use ethically sourced chocolate and tapioca flour instead of all-purpose flour. He used vegan butter but liked to brown it first to caramelize a bit before combining it to the batter.

“This flour is what I used to make the tapioca pearls for my milk tea in my 14th video. It’s still up if you want to check it out and give it some love,” he poured the batter into the pans.

Turning around completely, he walked to the oven to place the pan on the middle rack. Killer didn’t need to bend down as much as he did to place the pan inside. He also didn’t need to jut his hips backwards a little to make his butt look bigger on camera, but it was nice hearing the pings echoing in the kitchen as he was gifted with tips and praise. Not that he’d admit that to anyone of course.

Killer turned the volume of his Bluetooth speaker louder, enjoying the lofi channel playlist he chose for the day’s stream. It was hard to find good music these days, not with a DMCA lawsuit one flagged video away.

“You can find where I use the same ingredients for the pre-made mint filling layer in my 20th video, when I made my homemade No-reos.”

Underneath the kitchen island countertop was a small red button that Killer pushed. That was the alarm indicator Kid had installed to notify the redhead that it was time for him stop what he was doing, get dressed, and join the video for the taste test.

Hoping beyond hope that Kid would be wearing the clothes Killer laid out for him, the masked man entertained the audience. Acknowledging the redeemed gifts, answering comments and questions and taking a much needed bathroom break. Letting the ads run a bit longer to milk the revenue, Killer stood at the doorway waiting for Kid to make an appearance. Asshole was running late, unbelievable. HE WANTED to be in the live streams, Killer didn’t ask him to be a part of it.

Shaking his head, he sat down in front of the camera, preparing to be KillerCook once more. The oven had three minutes left on the timer and the smell of chocolate wafted. The stream continuing, he began whisking the ganache to pour over the brownies.

Killer heard Kid walking through the hallway as he whisked. Bursting through the door, shirtless, his golden piercings that littered his nipples, nose bridge and ears shined from the open kitchen windows that showed a beautiful sunny day outside.

Timer going off, Killer fumbled to the back while hissing out, “Put a fucking shirt on! Why do you do this every time?!”

“C’mon Kill, they’re not gonna ban you for male nipples, be real.”

“Not risking it, we’re already on thin ice for using copyright music after 2 warnings. Remember? That’s how you lost Your Job as the video editor. Put on a shirt or I pull the plug.”

Angrily swearing, Kid walked back through the door to find a shirt.

“The last step is pouring the ganache over the mint layer and spreading it evenly for a smooth coating. Then you’ll want to store it in the fridge to let the top layer set. This will take up to an hour or you can keep it in longer until you’re ready to eat.”

Cutting into the pan to prepare a square for Kid, the masked baker placed both the pan and the taste test piece in the fridge. Killer once again entertained the audience for the 5 minutes it took for Kid to come back, in a ruffled black vest that was unbuttoned. Killer pulled out a chair for him and went to retrieve the taste test square, placing it on the table in front of Kid.

Coming into view of the camera with an annoyed pout on his face, Kid shot a sneer at Killer before tightening his jaw and looking directly into the lens.

“Alright, now the reason you’re all really here. To watch me eat shit you can’t have and look hot doing it.”

Standing straight, he stuck out his right arm and flexed, slowly moving it down with deliberate motions that further focused on his bulging muscles instead of the baked good. Bringing it to his face, Kid licked his maroon painted lips before taking a bite with a grin. Letting out an approving grunt.

“How’s it taste?”

“Tastes damn good, brother,” Kid responded, biting into the brownie again.

“Can you uh elaborate some more for the audience?”

“It’s chocolate, tastes like chocolate,” he grunted out in between bites.

Sighing deeply, “Does the texture feel balanced? Is it too dry? Can you even taste the mint I added with the chocolate chips?”

Licking his fingers clean and wiping his mouth with the back of hand, Kid shrugged. “Tastes perfect. Like any good brownie should be, it’s moist,” devilish smirk on his face and he faced the camera.

Feeling Killer’s serious as fuck glare through the mask, “Yeah yeah you can taste the mint. It doesn’t overwhelm the chocolate but it wasn’t overstated either. Like a little nudge wanting acknowledgment.”

“And there you have it, moist and acknowledged. Tune in next time when I make one of my favorite dishes, Spaghetti aglio e olio. It’s simple to prepare and like everything else I make, slays. This has been Faffaffaffa-Food with Killer.”

End Livestream.

Killer lifted his baker’s hat, helmet and took his hairnet off, pulling his hair from the tight wound rubber elastic he’d put it in.

“One of these days you’re going to get me banned, dickwad. Think about that the next time you want to fuck around. All those comments of praise and validation gone just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “Because you can’t stop being a dumb whore for 5 minutes.”

“I’m a whore?! Oh stuff a brownie in yer mouth and calm down. You’re not you when you’re hangry,” Kid snickered, ducking out of the kitchen to avoid the stainless-steel bowls flung at him.

Bonus: The comment section

ICantEven101: Killer-san, why won’t my sauce stick to my noodles? KillerCook: You may be using too much oil or butter. A good trick is to add in pasta water to thicken the sauce. Corn starch is a good binder as well.

VanillyExtract: PunkNeverDied69 can I take you on a date? 🥺 PunkNeverDied69: You can’t afford my tastes.

GimmeDa’Za: Day 15 of asking for a Heat cameo and dutch oven pizzas. FlamingHot420: Why are you people obsessed with me? I walked into the kitchen ONE TIME.