#It does feel a little silly to be using tools like the Lot Adjuster and Shiftable Everything and SimPE

[rockethorse]

Should I be allowed to include Sims 2 Store/preorder/exchange content in Calcinidae Bay

There are several reasons why I'm keeping Calcinidae Bay CC-free but first and foremost it's to see "how far can I get with only TS2 Maxis content?" and so there's always this nagging voice in the back of my head saying "but this is TS2 Maxis content".

Lots that I share will remain CC-free, and I'm not including Stories conversions. Only things made by EA, for TS2.

[muffinsin]

instead of the gp sisters fucking their girlfriend in a feral way, how about the sisters make love to her in a gentle and loving way? What do you think? Would the sisters be into that at the beginning and later of if the relationship?

That’s such a sweet prompt! Very interesting too👀 let’s get into it! :)

Masterlists

Bela

She holds back a lot as it comes to giving into her desires, and as it comes to her sex life in general

Really, she barely even has one outside of a relationship

She’s an extreme workaholic and usually deems sex with a random servant or so either not worth her time, beneath her, or a distraction from working

That’s the reason she will likely only sleep with you when you’re her partner

And with this comes often sweet love. Because she does not just find herself in a relationship with anyone

She cares about you, deeply, and this is portrayed in all her actions

She is definitely willing to have sweet, passionate lovemaking early on in the relationship. Even more than this, she sees it as a requirement on both parts

It’s rare for her to have sex. While arousing to her at times, Bela wants to feel worshipped and loved during sex at many times, especially early on

The first time consists of sensual, careful and sweet lovemaking

Sex means something to her. It isn’t something she randomly has, or something she is easy to dismiss

She doesn’t, or barely, screws random maids to satisfy her urges, and rather ignores these for as long as she can

With you, she doesn’t need to ignore them, but rather embraces them

She likes to be gentle and loving with you, and to be treated the same way in return

To give and receive meaningful kisses, loving touches that are almost worshipping even

Of course, she is still entirely capable of being rough, mean even, later on

But, there are times, often, when she needs the reassurance and love that comes with gentle, loving sex with you

You just mean so much to her

In the beginning of the relationship, it is mainly sweet lovemaking

The reason for this is of course, shared love and attraction, but also her desire to keep you safe and out of harm’s way

She knows she can be very strong and rough if she isn’t careful around you

And she knows, if she didn’t adjust her grip, she could snap your wrist like it’s nothing. Not that it ever happened. She is simply aware of the strength she possesses due to the cadou infection nestled inside of her

Because of this she strays from rough sex for quite a while into the relationship. She would never forgive herself if she hurt you

She isn’t entirely too comfortable with the thought of it yet, worried she’ll accidentally hurt you if she is too feral

After a lot of reassurance and tryouts, she’s willing to be rougher too, however

And in time, she learns she can be quite rough with you in her own ways

Still, lovemaking remains, and is yet one of her favorite forms of sex with you

Later on in the relationship, the type of sex you have depends entirely on the setting and mood

Some days, she will be loving, sensual and caring

On others, Bela is well tempted to ruin you

And on some other days, she might just settle for a mix of both

Cassandra

Oh, only rough sex in the beginning

Anything else would seem like a silly proposition to her

Cassandra has a lot of sex, frankly put. There’s really no way of talking around it

However, she has very little meaningful sex

She often opts for taking a servant willing to be with her into her chambers, to use, then throw aside

A tool to satisfy the urge and the ache between her legs

It’s always rough, and can be quite painful even. She doesn’t care all that much if her partner enjoys it, they’re usually expendable to her

It’s a way to keep her heart safe. She doesn’t want anyone to hurt her again, and is worried sweet, loving sex might get someone too close to her

Too close to her heart

Close enough to hurt this heart of hers

When you come around, she knows she has use of you. She opts not to kill you, unlike her usual playthings

And when a relationship blooms between the two of you, the sex doesn’t change

She will show affection, when she can, but still remain as demanding and feral in bed, ruining and bruising at every opportunity

It’s hard at first, for her to realize you’re her partner, in a relationship, and to adjust her actions accordingly

When you ask her for lovemaking at first, she nearly scoffs. She isn’t weak! And she doesn’t want to appear weak by being soft, even in bed

She doesn’t hear you out, either, no matter how much she cares for you

It’s only the beginning of the relationship, and trust has not been built just yet. Additional to this, her trust is hard to earn

At this time, with no trust and loyalty proven or built just yet, she doesn’t think you have the right asking that of her

She still can’t be sure you won’t betray her or hurt her, after all

When you ask again a little while into the relationship, when trust secures both of you and her worries, she’s open to it

However, she is incredibly confused

Isn’t that what she had been doing, too? Loving sex?

Sure, it was rough, but passionate. And you were her lover, and she tended to you and your wounds

Didn’t that make it loving sex?

She isn’t even sure how to be loving at sex, it’s been so long to her. She doesn’t really know how to express this love and softness like that

When you show her by cupping her cheeks and pressing a kiss to her lips- loving and careful, a deep and meaningful kiss that leaves her flustered- she begins to understand what you mean

She adjusts, and while she feels a little odd being gentle at first, she gets the hang of it fast

She allows gentle, sensual sex instead of feral one. She enjoys it sometimes, even

While Cassandra prefers rough, fast, feral one to get off fast, she is more than willing to switch it up as well

To praise and kiss, to take in your body in an almost worshipping fashion and kiss each part of you

To mark, lovingly, and place her marks with thought

To allow you to mark, to kiss, to hold her. To touch her

Daniela

She doesn’t mind either at all, at any point in the relationship

Whether in the beginning or long into the relationship, her preferences barely change, save for new kinks or techniques she might have discovered and taking a liking to

Daniela is very experimental, and kinky. She loves to explore new kinks, new positions, techniques, outfits and toys, for example. This much is clear and obvious incredibly early on

However, she’s also so very in love. Very. Fast.

She falls quickly, and hard, and is convinced from the moment she asks you out/you ask her out, you must love her equally immediately

Therefore she doesn’t only not mind, but relishes in sweet lovemaking, loving and caring touches, meaningful, deep kisses, roses and scents and dim lights

With her it is promised to you: she will enjoy both, to give and receive

However, Daniela is very much the type of person where the phrase “reap what you sow” applies. Treat her with love, and you will receive it in return. Hurt her, and she will do the same- only a tenfold worse

She loves to spoil you and treat you lovingly. When you show her gentleness and lovemaking at your turn in bed, she will return the same for you at her turn

With gentle kissing, feather light touches, praises and dim lights, comfortable sheets and a beautiful scene just for you

She likes to impress you when it comes to lovemaking, and go about it as romantic as she can

Like with Bela, it is very mood dependent what kind of sex you’re having with her

Should she feel naughty and desperate, she will nearly always ask for kinky sex. Often demand a little bit of degrading, even

Is she feeling needy and affection starved, she will often prefer long lovemaking sessions

She’s very flexible, though, and can quickly switch to loving sex in the midst of ruining you (or adapt to lovemaking just after being the one that was taken rough), or switch to harder, more feral movements just after sweet and loving ones

Daniela relishes in both, really

She generally prefers kinkier sex. This doesn’t mean it has to be rough at all, though

One of Daniela’s favorite aspects of sex is when it’s a mix of being dirty and naughty and loving

To keep her tied up while you take good care of her, for example

It makes her feel so loved and lightheaded at the same time

She enjoys sensuality and teasing, and likes to worship you even when she brings you to your limits, and vise versa

[maiteo]

Hey maia I know you are a computer girl so I need some advice (sorry for the vent in advance). I have a degree in biology and I'm very interested in neuroscience and behavior, cognition etc etc.Somehow, I wanna to combine bioinformatics with it, so basically computational neuroscience. The thing is that I feel like my brain can't work that way, like I understand all the basic tools and the languages etc but generally I feel like I cannot actually think beyond in the field. It's still early for me I'm still doing my master's but do you have any advice?I won't go as far as to say that I sometimes feel inadequate/stupid in the bioinformatics area but yk...Also maybe it's my teacher, he's great and all but he tells me my answers are "philosophical" what does that even mean dude 🫠 Anyway thanks ilysm ���️

Hello meu amor!!🫶🏽 First of all congratulations!! What you have achieved already is amazing and having the aspirations to add to it is incredible. I hope you have taken the time to celebrate yourself and your achievements❤️ I am happy you messaged me, no need to apologize about venting...the stem fields are an absolute trip, and I understand how you feel. I am about to ramble now...especially since I have moments where I feel the exact same way. 

Firstly, the doubt is so normal, especially given the makeup of the fields and how male dominated it is. I know from personal experience I used to find myself second guessing my work, my capabilities, and just my overall presence whether it be in my classes, work, events, etc...🫠 It takes time to adjust and to be confident in taking up space (that you fully deserve to take up!!) and said insecurities are never a reflection of your intelligence and ambitions; it's always a nagging voice that I’ve learned goes away as you build yourself up. 

Academically speaking, this is genuinely such an interesting field of study! (wild how I recently met someone on the same path!) I know how overwhelming and intimidating the initial approach to any type of programming language can be, given how vast it is and given how some people act as if it's a piece of cake that can be learned instantly (so very false!) It takes time to build up confidence, but it is NOT impossible and can be enjoyable. An approach that worked for me was to just excite myself over little things so the program would not get the best of me😭 sounds silly but it works and eases your mind. 

Not sure which language you will be focusing on specifically (I’m aware of Python & MATLAB being in focus for neuroscience) but this is applicable to all languages: Be patient with the process. Expect mistakes initially and take lessons from each of them. Do not be afraid to utilize every single source at your disposal, whether its tutoring, working with other classmates or finding a mentor. I promise you the people who specialize in this stuff loveeee being able to help you understand it as best they can, to help you succeed. I have struggled with asking for help at times too (especially when I first started python) but after doing it just one time, it became easier to do so. Don’t be afraid to just jump right into a program to get a feel for how it is. You mentioned you have a bit of time before you dedicate your time to it...use that time to find a virtual program tailored to your studies or just an introduction to whichever program you need. This will give you a sense of what to expect with the language and help diminish intimidation a bit. Also, these can all be found online for free!! Do not pay for anything crazy. I’m not sure what kind of learner you are but take notes that help you keep track of what you’ve learned and what you understand. A lot of these virtual learning sites are very visual heavy and to me, that helps a lot. 

I’m rambling now I'm so sorry lol but the “philosophical” comment...I'm yelling! I cannot tell you how many comments of similar nature I have gotten from tech teachers specifically. While I don’t believe they have malicious intent, I know how it plays on the mind and how it affects literally everything. Honestly, a lot of the times, some of them* do not have the same experience communicating on a deeper level...you know devoid of tech talk?💀 Whenever they're introduced to concepts that involve human emotions or connections they are just like...oh! hm..?🤨 Don’t let it affect you at all loml!! You're on track to do even more beautiful things! Proud of you, wishing you the absolute best and rooting for you always!!🫂🫶🏽

ps. heres a link that may be a bit helpful🫡

[gotnofucks]

Congruence

Written for @holylulusworld 10k follows challenge!

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Reader, Loki x Reader

Trope: Love Triangle

Summary: Stephen and Loki want you. You are confused. Wong is an angsty person.

Words: 4.5k

Warnings: None? Strong language, I think. Fluff and bad English (not my first language)

A/N: This is my first time writing something like this so please bear with me. Also, I’m a sucker for happy endings so…yeah.

MASTERLIST

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Wong was losing his fucking mind. He was one more broken vase away from cursing in Vedic Sanskrit and spent every hour cursing Thor for sending his miscreant brother to live at the New York Sanctum. He could have gone to Hong Kong, or maybe London where he would have fit right in with that English accent. But no! He had to send him here in New York with Wong and Stephen and you.

You had been living at the sanctum for only two months when Thor literally dropped Loki here. Wong and Stephen had been sitting in the living room when the ceiling cracked open and someone fell from the sky with a resounding THUD. Loki had looked up from the floor with utter contempt in his face at his brother who landed solidly on his feet.

“Hey there, doctor!” Thor bellowed, patting Stephen roughly on the shoulder and gave Wong a bear hug.

The sorcerers had stared at the two Asgardians with absolute shock on their faces until Wong exploded.

“Can you please for fucks sake use the door like a normal person!? Every time you are here you break something! The ceiling for god’s sake! Do you have any idea how much time and effort it takes to repair that?”

Thor looked at the ceiling with no remorse while his brother dusted himself off.

“Can’t you just, you know, reverse time with the stone and fix it?” Thor asked, taking a seat without being offered one.

“What are you doing here? And why, if I may ask, is your brother here?” Stephen asked rolling his eyes. Thor made the occasional stop at the Sanctum from time to time just for the fun of it. Banner bet him 10 bucks it has a lot to do with Wong being recently single, Stephen disagrees and says its because their kitchen is always stocked with Pop Tarts.

“Ah, you can keep my brother” Thor said nonchalantly, stretching his legs out and being comfy in his chair.

“Excuse me? Who the hell do you think you are, trying to treat me like an object?” Loki spat.

Before Thor could retort, Stephen banged his hand on the table. “I have no plans to keep your brother, Odinson. Pray, take him and leave. And while you’re at it, put some money on the table for the ceiling. We may have magic, but we don’t use it to put splintered wood back together.”

“You must keep him doctor, for the good of the nine realms.” Thor said, raising his hands slightly in resignation.

“Have you started another war already?” Wong asked curiously, eyeing the God of Mischief who looked about ready to stab his brother.

“He hasn’t, yet. But I’m leaving Midgard for some time and Valkyrie doesn’t want him around. They will end up killing each other by the end of the week. He’s got magic, you can make use of him here. Hell, make him fix that ceiling.” Thor said.

Loki was seething at having been treated like a naughty child while the adults talked around him. They hadn’t let him utter a word in his defense and he doubted it would matter if they did hear him out. Whatever, he didn’t want to stay with Valkyrie either. Before Thor dragged him here, he’d switched all her alcohol with fruit juice. She would be spitting fire for days and he was safer here. And so, it was decided that Loki would stay at the sanctum until Thor returned. What he would do here remains to be seen. Stephen wasn’t pleased with the situation, but he’d rather Loki stay here than cause some other world ending event that would drag him and other Avengers out to clean up his mess later.

You were in the library when this weird turn of events was happening, so you hadn’t had the chance to meet Loki yet. You were a new recruit at the sanctum, chosen personally by Wong who felt they needed more than just two sorcerers to protect this place. Until then you were under training with both of them and were still getting your feel of this space. You had so far met no one other than your two mentors so you were rightfully surprised to stumble on man wearing green cape and eating your cereal in the kitchen. You stopped in your tracks and looked at him curiously while he did the same, chewing slowly.

“Y/n meet Loki. He’ll be staying with us for some time”, Wong said as ways of introduction. Wong adored you since he saw you in Kamartaj and had you brought here as soon as your preliminary training there was over. You were still very young, only in your 20s, so you brought with yourself a light and life that had previously been lacking in this sacred place. Ever since you came here, the sanctum had flower vases in almost every room and soft music could be heard at odd times. You didn’t take long to adjust to your life in New York and often forced both Stephen and Wong to eat something other than take out. You laughed and smiled and brought with yourself a woman’s touch to this dreary place. Wong wasn’t the only one affected. Stephen, who had initially been very against the idea of another sorcerer in the sanctum warmed up to you quick enough. So warm in fact that Wong could almost call it affection.

“Hi Loki, does your cape float too?” You asked and sat across him, pouring some cereal and milk into your bowl. Loki stopped eating and bent his head a little to the side, curious.

“It doesn’t.” He said at last.

“That sucks, I love flying cloaks. Stephen’s cloak – I call it Levi – loves to take me on rides. If your cape were a sentient too, maybe they could have been friends. Everyone should have friends, even clothes.”

Loki was looking at you with a small, amused smile.

“I can enchant it for a few hours; however, it won’t remain animated forever.” Loki said. He didn’t like talking to strangers, but you were so sweet, so unafraid of him that it pleased him. You had no awkwardness when you spoke, and no note of hatred in your voice, something that didn’t happen often in his conversations with people.

Your eyes brightened and you launched into a discussion about animation enchantments, something that the masters at Kamartaj had steered clear off. They were very adamant about how to use magic, and walking furniture was somewhere they drew the line. Loki’s magic was very different to yours and it fascinated you. This was how Stephen found you, deep in conversation with an amused Loki who looked at you softly. He scowled.

“What’s happening here?”, he asked, coming to stand behind you.

“Did you know it’s possible to morph your body in someone else’s completely? Solid illusions!”, you prattled on.

“Of course, I know, I just don’t use it.” Stephen said and took the seat beside you.

“You never said! You’ll teach me?” Your eyes were bright as you asked this, and it was with great restraint Stephen shook his head and said no. He found it difficult denying you anything and if he ever admitted it to himself, he would say he’s fond of you. Very fond.

Your face fell at his denial.

“You won’t teach me? Why?”

“Some magic is too advanced for you right now. We’ll build it up and maybe someday I’ll teach you, although I’m not fond of it. Some magic is just…silly.”

Loki was looking at your exchange with a small smirk and as you lowered your face in dejection, he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table and looked straight at you.

“I can teach you.” He said and watched your eyebrows raise before a small smile formed on them. You looked happy until you remembered your mentor sitting beside you and looked at him with a forlorn expression. Stephen’s hands clenched and he resisted the urge to mash Loki’s face in his cereal.

“Like hell you would! I’m her instructor and the only thing you’re doing is staying out of trouble.” Stephen said, one hand leaning over the back of your chair, a gesture not lost on Loki.

“Didn’t Thor say I could be of help here? Well, this is it. I could help teach Y/n and we can compare notes on our magic. Wouldn’t you like that, Y/n?” Loki asked you in a sweet voice and you nodded eagerly, eyes pleading with Stephen to agree. You looked so earnest, so willing to learn, that Stephen couldn’t find it in himself to say no. He wanted to, he wanted to shout that he will teach you all you needed to know and more, that he is someone you can rely on. But he simply said yes.

Throughout this whole conversation, Wong, who was busy cooking hadn’t said a thing but if the stiffness in his shoulders was to go by, he was not a happy man. He knew some shit was about to go down, and lord did he not want to be a part of it.

From that day, what happened in the Sanctum was something Wong could only call an over glorified dick-measuring contest between Stephen and Loki. They did all but whip their tools out and boink each other on the head with it.  

It started from little things like teaching you something new and praising you about it. You loved to have your work being acknowledged and would blush a deep red at being praised. Loki had fumed for hours watching you and Stephen work and you giggling with a red face as Stephen told you what a good job you had done. In retaliation, Loki started teaching you enchantments and when you got them right, he would pat your hand and tell you that you were a good girl. That blush, and the glare he received from Stephen was a treat.

It didn’t stop with academics. The men started vying for your attention in the kitchen, each trying their hardest to win you over with more and more complicated dishes. Wong put his foot down when Loki made a Nutella sandwich that was a foot high and dripped with toasted marshmallows that took hours to scrub off. Stephen had laughed outrageously when Wong scolded Loki, telling him to clean up his mess and if he ever did something like this again, he’ll be using his toothbrush to clean the sanctum. Stephen stopped laughing however when Wong turned to him with a spatula in his hand. “And you! You’re banned from cooking too. I can’t go shopping every day to get you ingredients because you want to make Y/n pastries and pies and stupid Turkish delights three times a day. Out of my kitchen! Now!”

The antics continued, more often than naught resulting in skirmishes between the two men which in turn resulted in a lot of broken vases, furniture, and in some rare events, bones. They fought over who you spent more time with, smiled wider at, and laughed harder at. It drove Wong crazy, an unfortunate bystander to the playground tricks of two boys fighting over a toy. But you were more than a toy, that he could tell.

You weren’t oblivious to what was happening. You were young, not naïve and so you spent your days very amused. You didn’t mind this attention, far from it in fact. Two very handsome and powerful men, for reasons best known to them, were trying their best to impress you. It made you giddy and feel wanted, but also confused because while you weren’t in love with either of them, you didn’t think you’d be able to choose one when the time came for it. Surely, they can’t keep doing this forever and will one day give you the ultimatum to make a choice. You dreaded that day because with each passing day, with each sweet gesture and praise, with each hug lasting a little longer and each eye contact being a little hotter, you were reminded that with choosing one you would lose the other. That didn’t seem like the happy ending you wanted.

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Loki was at his wit’s end and knee deep in books and ancient relics. He had scrounged every storeroom and tome trying to find what he wanted to no avail. His hair was disheveled from running his hands through it too many times and he wished you would braid it like you’d done a couple nights ago. What had begun simply as an amusing prank to show up Stephen Strange ended up being a true gamble in the game of love. He didn’t really expect to start liking you like this. Sure, you were different, and he acknowledged that fact within minutes of meeting you. But he didn’t know that he would seriously start considering his intentions towards you. At most he had hoped he would find a friend in you, but he didn’t just want to be a friend anymore. He wanted you with your tinkling laugh and ability to cast spells far above your level. He wanted to see you defend him against Thor and to tell you stories of Asgard as you took a walk through New Asgard by his side. He wanted you so bad and he’d be damned if that red cloak wearing second rate wizard took you from him.

“What in the world are you doing?” Wong asked as he entered Loki’s room to find it strewn with books and odd ornaments. Loki was sitting on the floor looking quite frustrated, and well, a little pathetic.

“I can’t find it. I’ve searched almost every book and every relic you have here. I can’t find it!” Loki moaned. Wong didn’t know what he was looking for, but he felt a small spark of pity for the god.

“What are you looking for?”

“Aladdin’s lamp”

There was a pregnant pause in the room.

“Excuse me?”

“Aladdin’s lamp. Y/n was talking about how Strange’s cloak – Levi as she calls it – would have loved having the flying carpet as his friend. And I asked her about this carpet, and she told me it belonged to the Genie who came out of Aladdin’s lamp when rubbed. I want that lamp so I can ask this Genie fellow to loan me his carpet”

It was a tough battle between laughing and patting the god on his head like a small child. Wong fought the impulse to do either and sat down on a chair after depositing the books on it on the table. “You won’t find it here”, he told Loki whose head shot up at this.

“Why not? Is it at some other sanctum? London?”

“It’s…nowhere.”, Wong said and raised a hand to stop Loki from interrupting. “Aladdin is a fictional story, so is the lamp and the genie and the carpet. Y/n loves reading about them and watching the movie adaptations. She likes to see how morals have interpreted magic.”

Loki’s mouth dropped open and for a moment he looked about ready to cry for having wasted so many hours searching for something that didn’t exist. Then, he miraculously started laughing.

“Norns! This woman drives me up a wall! She mentions one thing and I just want to do that for her. I’m not even mad at her or myself, just disappointed that I’ll have to search for something else to get her now. What the hell happened to me?”

Wong looked at a man who was very nearly, if not already in love with you. He didn’t like Loki very much, but he didn’t want this man to go through a heart break either. He would have to talk to you, soon.

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Stephen fancied himself a step ahead of Loki because he had known you a little bit longer, but if he was being honest, there wasn’t much to go by. His insecurities had a lot to do with that, for he believed you would prefer Loki, a handsome man over a scarred man like him. But you had never mentioned anything about his slightly trembling hands. You had taken to his life without a hitch and so seamlessly blended into a routine with him, Stephen felt like you had always been a part of his life. He couldn’t remember when you’d started helping him tie his robes, or necktie when the occasion called for it. He couldn’t remember when he’d started eating home cooked meals instead of takeout at the deli Wong preferred. One day he was living without you, and the other you had taken over every aspect of his life and made it ten times as beautiful. He didn’t know if he could go back to living life as he did before you, and he’d be damned if some green-bean god tried to take you away from him.

“I am going to regret asking this but what are you trying to do?”, Wong asked Stephen who was standing in the middle of his meditation room holding his cloak. Well, holding might not be the correct term. Dancing…with his cloak.

“I am teaching Levi how to waltz”, Stephen said and continued to guide the piece of fabric through the leg movements. Wong watched this with morbid fascination before sputtering incredulously.

“Why?”

“Y/n loves to waltz and as I don’t always have enough time to indulge her, I’m teaching my cloak how to do it so it can keep her company. You’ll do that won’t you, Levi?”

To Wong’s utter astonishment the cloak seemed to nod and was almost elegant in his movements. For a good few minutes Wong watched this scene before sighing. Smitten, both of them. Absolutely wrapped around your finger and most definitely on their way to fall in love. Stephen was his best friend and he looked so happy since you got here, it warmed Wong’s heart to finally see Stephen smile and be genuinely happy.

He really really needed to talk to you and ask you whom you planned to be with, if any of them at all. This is exactly the sort of drama Wong hated and he was sure no matter what you said, someone was going to get their heart broken.

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You were going to do it. You were going to do it today and tell them your decision because you couldn’t take it anymore. The hostility between Loki and Stephen was getting on your nerves and you couldn’t spend a minute in one’s company before being interrupted by the other. In the end, you just left them both, hence losing the joy of both their presence. And poor Wong. You could see him trying to summon courage for what you knew was going to be a very uncomfortable talk. The past few months Loki had lived here had been the best and worst months of your life. But now that things were starting to affect not just your friendship but also your academics (because both your instructors ended up attacking each other and spent two days in the sick bay), you needed to make a choice. So, you did what you did best and got to baking.

“It smells like Valhalla here, Y/n”, Loki said as he watched you work.

“Why won’t you let us see what you’re making?” Stephen asked, trying to look around you but you glared at him and he sat down again.

“Will you both for god’s sake ask the important question? Why the hell are we wearing these outfits?” Wong grumbled.

You looked at the three men seated around the table in Harry Potter robes, each holding a handmade wand and pointy hat you’d forced them to wear. They had protested and whined (I’m not a witch for Norn’s sake!) but had given in easier than you thought. You really did have them wrapped around your little finger.

“Could you wait for like two minutes? This needs to be perfect!” You chirped and got back to your tray.

“I’m too old to be doing cosplay”, Wong said with a huff.

“Shut up”

It took you another ten minutes to perfect your stuff, a tray lined with identical muffins with Hogwarts logo and the sorting hat on top. Picking it up you sat it down on the table before the three men and then sat down yourself.

“These are the sorting muffins but with a twist”, you declared. Loki looked on with interest. He’d watched and read all the Harry Potter books and movies at your behest.

“I hate this, and I hate twists. The last time I saw a twist was when this one-”, Wong pointed at Stephen “-annoyed a cosmic being into accepting defeat. I still get nightmares about that”

“Oh, don’t be so dull Wong. These are compatibility muffins. We don’t need sorting, we’re already sorted. You are obviously a Ravenclaw because you’re the librarian, Stephen is of course Gryffindor because Levi is red, similarly Loki is Slytherin because that cape is definitely a Slytherin green. And I am a Hufflepuff because I am the best.” Your speech did not have the jubilant response you expected, and you crossed your arm with a deep disappointed sigh. Stereotypical as your sorting had been you expected something more than blank faces.

“So, what are these muffins for?”, Stephen asked.

“We all take one and see what color filling we find. The person whose house we get, that’s the person we’re most compatible with.” Now you had your expected response. Both Loki and Stephen sat at attention eyeing the muffins critically, trying their hardest to guess which one had the yellow icing in the middle. Beside them Wong groaned and facepalmed. Of all the ways for you to choose a partner, trust you to play a game of luck involving a children’s fantasy book. He was regretting putting that talk off now.

“So, if I get blue…” Loki trailed off

“Yeah, you and Wong can go make out in the corner” You answered. “But of course, Wong must get green too you know, or you’d have to find another Ravenclaw. Consent is important after all”

It was the dumbest shit you had ever come up with. You knew it, everyone else knew it. But if this was how it was supposed to go so be it. Everyone ignored Wong’s complain of ruining a good desert and set out to choose their most perfect muffin. They were all identical to the last crumb, and it took an annoyingly large amount of time for both your suitors to choose their pieces. After they had deliberated and finally chosen their muffins, you casually selected one and motioned for Wong to do the same.

Finally, with muffins in all your hands and eyes full of anticipation and trepidation, you all took a bite.

Stephen’s face broke out in a grin as he showed off his bitten muffin with a yellow center. That smile however turned into a frown as Loki showed a yellow centered muffin too. Wong, feeling utterly stupid showed his red centered muffin and then all eyes turned to you. With a straight face you turned your muffin and-

“Motherfucker!”, Wong cried and with his head in his hands began laughing and crying simultaneously. Loki and Stephen looked stunned, staring open mouthed at the two-colored center of your muffin. Red and green.

“What?” They both said.

“I can’t choose. I just can’t. That’s not who I am.” You said and looked them both straight in the eye, hoping they’ll see reason in what you’re saying. “How do you choose between two people who love so much? You can’t quantify that feeling, you can never tell if its greater for someone or not. Call me a coward or a bitch, I don’t care. This is the truth. I love you Stephen. I love all your music references and stupid movies you make me watch. And I love you Loki, with that English accent and your horrible cooking. I love you both and I am here if you’ll have me. This is what I can offer you, because I sure as hell can’t break either of yours heart.”

You didn’t know what was going to happen. You hadn’t exactly meant to drop the L-word, but well, it was true. You couldn’t break their hearts, so you put the ball in their court and allowed them to break yours instead. It was much better than going through with the pain of choosing one of them, especially when your heart beats simultaneously for two. You braced yourself for rejection, because sharing a person you love is never easy. But if you have to share it with a person you hate, well, its almost impossible.

Loki and Stephen looked at you and then at each other. They seemed to be having some sort of wordless conversation and the longer they remained silent, the more you felt like you’d made a mistake and lost them both. Finally, they nodded at each other and then looked at you.

“I hate this second-rate wizard”

“I hate you too, green puny god”

“But we love you more.”

You blinked once and then again. It took a minute to register what they said but then you were flying and the next second you were in their arms, one man at your front while the other at your back. Sobs whacked your small body as the tension of past few months left you in your lovers’ embrace and you could finally breath easy. You pulled away and looked up with a tear stained face at Loki and Stephen, a watery smile that they reciprocated.

“So, we can finally have sex now after months of violent foreplay”, you remarked making them both laugh and pull you in their arms again. This was it. This was your safe space, your heaven.

Wong was forgotten as the three embraced and he was as baffled as he had ever been. Only you could have pulled off something so crazy. He was so glad he almost joined the group hug himself. No more broken furniture, no more shouting and no more messy kitchens. Life could go back to normal. As soon as he said that thunder rumbled outside and the ceiling cracked, depositing Thor in front of them wearing his armor and red cape.

“What’s happening here?” He boomed, looking around as if he hasn’t just vandalized their home again.

“You’re such a Gryffindor!” You cried, still delirious with joy and hugged Thor who had till now never met you. “I need to shave my whole body!” And saying this you ran away leaving the men staring at your back.

“Who’s that? And what’s a Gryffindor?” Thor asked, sitting at the kitchen table, and stretching his legs. He spotted the muffins and picked one up, taking a huge chunk out. It was blue from within. Both Loki and Stephen turned to look at a red-faced Wong who was cursing in Sanskrit.

“Looks like Banner was right. I owe him 10 bucks”, Stephen laughed.

[jmalkki]

From head canon to on-screen reality 

Episode 6 of Season 3. You, guys.

My. Goodness.

What oddly specific joy.

One has secretly hoped a scene of this nature to eventually make it onto the show, and the promo images promised it was coming now. So, one went in expecting to finally see on screen the sweet sweet scene of the couple all domestic, chilling on their bed, sharing thoughts; the one one has imagined so many times in various forms, be it in text or in illustrations. Seemingly topped with a kiss, as well -  gorgeous for the unremarkable mundanity of itself, without any story points or grand gestures tied to it.

Though the promo image promised kiss was not to be seen, what the domestically set scene itself delivered in substance was such a validating treat one could not feel one bit amiss; something one couldn’t have expected, hoped for, or imagined to come worth.

The end scenes of the episode made some major personal head canons true on screen! Namely the fact of Paul immediately recognizing the nature of one talking by oneself as if to a lost loved one, and admitting carrying Hugh similarly with him after Dear Doctor’s death. And, the fact, that both of the men hate the augmentations on Paul’s arms.

Seemingly tiny things perhaps, but these have both been some of the most persistent themes in my past writing of these two. And much as I abhor to go back to my past scribbles, I felt compelled to quickly go through whole of the Honey Mushroom series, and collect below all of the narratives focused on Paul talking to Hugh in his mind, and the instances mentioning the shared bother of the spore drive augmentations.

Which now suddenly as if offer possible context for the on-screen dialogue:

“God, I hated those things.” “I hated them more.”  

I realize this is quite individual a glee, specific to curious personal head canon nuggets (and perhaps to those who might’ve enjoyed the nuggets / nursed any similar own ideas), but I am beyond ecstatic for those nuggets to have now made it on screen and/or fit into the canon, complementary to the narrative!

How ever coincidental, I think one must thank at least Anne Cofell Saunders, the writer of the episode, for including these specific allusions / plot directions, and in doing so making reality of one’s particular head canons. And, that gratitude must also be extended to anyone else, who might’ve been involved in what ever capacity in the process of bringing these into the show’s in-universe reality.

Feels like such an immense affirmation of one’s year(s) spent passionately imagining these unmentioned-in-canon dimensions (regardless how ever fumblingly). Such joy to see these once dearly envisioned behind-the-scenes aspects brought on screen, and into the canon.

More small, but notable glees: Paul’s PADD on the nightstand. And the men sleeping on the ‘correct’ sides of the bed, which has also been a theme in exploring the character of Paul.  (And, in fact, Paul scratching the augmentations/residuals, too *heehee*).

Okay. Let’s go.

Passages of the augmentations being a bother:

From my second ever narrative, and the first to mention the augmentations, if not yet for the precise shared discomfort factor. Also the first to feature Paul talking to Hugh after the death:

[He shifted on the chair and reached for his forearm. Feeling out the hard plastic augmentation with his fingers. Rubbing it in a circular motion on top of his muscles, letting the gentle pressure push against his bones.

They were another reason - the augmentations - why he had felt so bare at the gym dressing rooms. He had only ever really bared them in the engineering for their designed purpose, and with Hugh around in the sickbay or in the confinements of their quarters. He had showed them to few others of course on occasion, but on his own discretion. He wasn’t comfortable letting them ‘hang out’ like he had just done. It too left him feeling exposed.

“They keep insisting I go in for a medical examination”, Paul muttered out quietly, while skimming through his calendar, like he was expecting Hugh - his resident consultant on all things medical - to actually answer.]

- We Are Undone, But Soldier On

From my only ‘alternative future’ story, with the first ever allusion to the shared discomfort with the apparatus. Also the narrative, which solidified the idea of Paul harboring Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind well after the death:

[ Paul smiled. He put his hand in his hair again, mussed it around a bit, adjusting it from side to side, observing it closely from the mirror. “And you won’t mind this either?” He asked with a faint look of apprehension on his face, “it’s still getting thinner and thinner each year.” “You know I always loved that”, Hugh spoke to him with most affectionate tone, as Paul could feel fingers play with the little swirl of thinning hair on the back of his head, “it makes you look irresistibly manly.”

“Like these”, Hugh continued, as Paul raised his arms in front of himself, displaying the thick, fluffy white hair covering his forearms, “I love falling asleep into this softness.” “Well, you’re in luck then. They sure aren’t thinning any”, Paul snickered, “I think the hair on my head might be migrating there in fact”. He could hear Hugh chuckle and felt a light encouraging pat on his hips.

Paul turned away from the mirror and walked slowly to the small kitchen cabin in the corner of the room. “Always hated shaving any of that off for those spore drive ports, just so you know.” he could hear Hugh’s voice commenting back at him. Paul was replicating his morning drink. “You won’t mind me saying then, how glad I was to get those off eventually”, Paul conversed in his head as he watched the replicator form a cup of tea.

“Of course not, Mushroom”, Hugh sounded to respond from the bed, “we’ve been through this many times. You don’t need to feel sorry for getting rid of those.”

“Yeah…” Paul muttered as he walked back to the room with a fresh cup of tea in his hands, “it just felt then like I was throwing something of you away”, he thought sitting down on the bed, “I know it’s silly.”

“It is. You know I wasn’t too keen on those things ‘hogging’ your arms either”, Hugh let out a little laugh, “and you really haven’t thrown any of me away.”

Paul looked sheepishly down to his tea. He knew what was coming.

“Don’t you think you should?” Hugh asked with a slight hint of worry in his voice.]

- Becalmed

A short, based solely on the premise of the discomfort of the augmentations:

[ Hugh wakes up to it again. To Paul’s arm wrapping around him. Dang, it used to be one of the best feelings in the mornings to wake in the safety of his Honey Mushroom’s manly arms. Now, there’s often this unforeseen complication. And Hugh has in part himself to blame for it too.

“Mushroom”, Hugh tries to carefully arouse the sleeping man’s attention by shaking him a little. He gets no response.

“Honey, can you move your arm a bit”, Hugh tries a little louder and attempts to wiggle himself from the man’s grip, but Paul just mumbles something in his sleep and won’t move. The arm wants to hold on to Hugh. Dammit. He loves it, but just not like this.

“Paul!” Hugh makes no attempt to discretion anymore, “will you let go of me!”

“What!?” Paul wakes up shouting irately at the abrupt wake-up call.

“Your damn augmentation is boring into my hip again”, Hugh lets the understandably agitated response get to him and snaps back in equal tone, which is far more harsh than necessary.

“Well, who the fuck’s fault is it, it’s there!?” Paul huffs back, fiercely as only provoked Paul would - even when half asleep, like he is right now.

“I know, I know. And you’re very welcome, by the way”, Hugh sneers, “just move it”.

“Fine!” Paul scoffs and yanks his arm to his own side of the bed, turning his back to Hugh as he does so. Hugh turns back to face his side as well.

The doctor then immediately feels regret for having gotten so agitated. He’s upset for the situation - lamenting over losing those comfy arms for the good of this ship -, not mad at the man.

How difficult for the man himself it must be to adjust? And Paul hasn’t once complained. Oddly so.

Hugh had just let his own less than satisfactory wake-up ruin Mushroom’s morning as well, hadn’t he?

“I’m sorry, Paul”, Hugh turns to look at the man over his shoulder,  "I didn’t mean to yell. I’m not upset with you".

“I know”, Paul’s sleepy voice sounds faintly somewhere behind the man’s back. He’s not turning back around.

Hugh worries his outburst might scare Paul to thinking twice before embracing him again. And he loves his cuddly Paul.

“Of course you’re still welcome to snuggle”, Hugh assures Paul, letting the regret sound in his voice.

But the man doesn’t hear him, he’s fast asleep again. And Hugh’s bed feels that much emptier without the safety of his man’s arms around him.]

- Losing Your Arms

From one, which references events referenced on screen, namely the introduction of the (preliminary) augmentations by revealing them installed on Paul’s arms:

[ Maybe it had indeed been but a dream after all. Like all of this. Perhaps like all the other times he remembers too. Those instances when they had been somewhere quite surprising - and admittedly quite exciting -, getting distracted by each other from their intended tasks.

Like, when at the Medbay, setting up these brand new spore drive ports on his arms, for a brief stolen moment before the evening shift had arrived to relief Hugh.

Indeed, occasionally he had been back as they were in the middle of hurriedly moving that task to their quarters to follow up on those distractions. Like they must have done just now, judging from the state in which their clothes lay scattered around the room and by the selection of tools haphazardly laid on the coffee table next to them. Like they ever really had any intention to use those once here on this couch.

Paul regards the augmentations on his forearms.

He’s getting a lot of extra orientation practice to the devices through these repeats however, Paul muses. Would Hugh notice anything? Will Mushroom have hard time explaining to the doctor after all of this, how he’s so well adjusted to these things so soon after installation?

He realizes this right now as he catches himself cursing them, positioning his arms so that the ports wouldn’t chafe against their bare skins. Is it too late to rethink these apparatus?]

- Come Again

From one, where Paul regards the augmentations at Hugh’s wake:

[ Paul remembers wrapping his arms around that waist each and every night.

He shifts his arms. The spore drive ports on his forearms, beneath the layers of sleeves, suddenly feel so alien again right then.

It’s not his first time in civilian clothing with them (thanks to his insistence on own comfort wear out of the uniform), but it is the first time with them off duty, since he’s off the ship. And they feel grossly out of place in these Earthly settings.

Hugh too had come to dislike them - his own invention - as soon as it had become apparent how they were an obstruction between their embraces.

Paul should get them removed, if they’ll no longer serve a purpose.

He takes his hands out of the pockets, folds his arms over his chest and goes back to staring across the room with what must appear quite a stern look.]

- Honoring One’s Heart

There was also one about the conceiving of the idea of the augmentations, where, however, the bother factor was not yet in sight:

Doctor, Not an Engineer

And this one, which doesn’t technically count for similar 'shared bother’ reasons either, perhaps, but is a whole narrative very much build around the inconvenience of the augmentations:

Performance Issues

Plus, couple saucy ones, which I won’t list here, lest I actually ever want to share this post *ha* More below:

While at it, (and, perhaps more importantly) here are the narratives build around the idea fact (!!) of Paul living with Hugh ‘alive’ in his mind after the death - in narrative order (some already featured above, too). Hardly captured by a single quote, but for a taste:

[ He had finally heard it. The voice. Hugh’s voice trying to calm him down, “Paul. You need to let yourself be upset. You need to let the tears come.” ]

- We Are Undone, But Soldier On

[ ‘Honey? Are you drunk?’

A delightful, relieved curiosity filled Paul’s mind momentarily as he peered into the darkness of the room wide-eyed, to see where the gentle, familiar voice calling him out was coming from.

Then he remembered, and with a loud, derisive scoff sank back into his darkened state of mind, slumping back down on the couch.

“So fucking what!? If I am.” ]

- A Better Man

[ None of this should matter. Not the suit, not the event, not the crowd. Paul is not here, and Hugh is not gone. Not yet anyway. They are still very much together, and just about to leave somewhere off by themselves, once done with this circus. To enjoy each others’ company somewhere away from all of this dreary pretend. Such a presentation, and for whose sake? “You don’t mind, if I’m not honoring you in accordance to the Fleet standards, do you?” He still gets no response. Hugh hasn’t talked to him since Paul disembarked that cursed ship. He’s still here though, isn’t he? Paul would surely feel it, if the man left.]

- Honoring One’s Heart

[ “Yes. We are too damn young to be thinking about retiring yet.” Paul said and turned to look by his side instinctively, only to see there was really no-one there, of course. He let out a little huff and smiled to himself. Then turned back to face the beach in front of him, and paused to think again. “It will surely be painful to be near it all on the Discovery”, his mind went on, “but I’m not quite ready yet to let go of what we had there either”. “Our only home together?” Hugh came back beside him. “Our first home together”, Paul specified, “so far…"]

- First Home

[  “Dear, I’m home”. He can just imagine himself standing there at the door of their cabin, staring into the empty, cold room that used to be. All the pleasant memories now tainted. How exactly will this be helping him to get over? “But please, do remind me again”, Paul whispers to himself, and hears a heavy, sympathetic sigh in reply, as if preparing itself for telling him of all the ways he’s doing the right thing to move on, and how it’s proud of him for not giving up, and how it supports him, and all that fucking sentimental nonsense, it’s had to tell him already, over and over. And which yet Paul needs to hear. To keep faith. To not forget. ]

- Watching Over You

[  “Hmh”, Paul shrugs, taking in the thought, suddenly a slight twinkle in his eyes, “…but I have too much ‘unbridled passion’ you say?” he then yields, disregarding his persistent gravity, as he apprehensively turns his playful smirk at Hugh, readying himself for this blessed dream to end short. But the man stays here. Startlingly, staring right back at Paul’s surprised gaze with almost haunting clarity. Paul’s grip on the newly corporeal man tightens in a moment of incredulity. For the first time in weeks - but which feels like a year - Paul is able to see the man, to look into those loving eyes again, bathe in that radiant smile, and respond to all of the emotions he now thirstily reads from the man’s beautiful face. And fuck, if there aren’t tears on Paul’s own. The man really is right here.]

- Passion of a Vulcan Like Mind

[ He could feel Hugh’s gaze on himself. “You realize, you actually wanted me gone today?”, he heard Hugh speak out gently, “I got in your way”.

Paul’s smile turned to an anguished frown. The tone of understanding in Hugh’s voice hurt him. “Never”, he attested firmly. He lay there as still as possible, staring at the ceiling, afraid to move too much, or turn to glance at his side, lest it chased away this sensation of Hugh beside him.

“You are being stubborn again, Mushroom”, Hugh whispered with a hint of worry in his voice, “why do you still cling on so desperately?”. He was so close Paul could almost feel the breath on him - or was that the sea breeze perhaps - “You said you’d be okay, if I left - why won’t you let me then?”]

- Becalmed (alt)

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

Mud is Thicker Than Blood:

Sick Day

Summary: I said i’d put all the little shorts I have about the Mud Dogs and Donnie in one story, so here it is!

Gift for: @void-inked-pen birthday a while back. They are a amazing friend and a source of inspiration for me

Characters: Donatello, Loathsome Leonard, Mickey, Dastardly Danny, Myra, April O’Neil

Pairings: You’re in luck! all the pairings for this fic are just past this door [gestures to wall that has a badly painted door under it and the laundry basket above it that’s suppose to be some sort of trap]

“What is this supposed to be?”

Even though Len had been using as polite of a tone as possible, Danny still gives him a heated glare. He uses his spatula to scrape the blackened flat pastry off his frying pan and onto Len’s plate with the consistency of a dried brick. ”They’re called crespelle’s. My Dads used to make them for me and my siblings all the time.”

“Are they supposed to be…” Mickey pokes it with his flipper, “rocks?”

Danny lets out another angry huff. “I couldn’t remember the ingredients, alright??” he says, flipping another burnt disc onto a plate. Len uses his chopstick to poke at the burnt food. For someone who had known the sting of hunger many times and learned to not be picky, he finds himself wondering if he can sneak out back and compare the taste of the burnt disk to dirt.

The sounds of footsteps tells him the last member of their little family was coming down to join them. “Morning,” Danny calls. ”I got a nice big breakfast for my only grateful family member with taste!” Danny says as he starts stacking another plate.

Donnie is pulling on his hooded cardigan as he reaches the bottom step, eyeing the breakfast with a concerned eye. “Doooo I want to know?” he asks before looking to Len with a look that clearly says ‘remember how I never forget ‘best parents day’? you owe me’. It takes more than a little willpower to keep from laughing but manages to duck his head to hide his grin before turning to Danny.

“How about we spare my kid this time? He’ll never hit his height goals if he eats this.”

Danny unties his apron and stomps over and pours himself a cup of coffee all while grumbling about ‘uncultured swine.’ This time Len can't stop the snort that escapes him this time but when Donnie takes his spot at the table his smile falters as Donnie pours himself a cup of hot coffee. Leaning over the mug with a sigh, his normally dark jade complexion feels a shade lighter than usual and more than Len’s comfortable with. “You feeling ok?” he asks, moving his chair to Don’s side of the table. He puts an arm around Don's shoulders and without waiting for an answer he presses the back of his hand to Don’s cheek. The teen squirms at the contact but was unable to pull out of his grip.

“Dad, Dad, I'm fine I just didn’t sleep well. I had a bad dream again.”

“Why didn’t you come get me? You could have slept in my bed.”

“You got home late last night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Don says, still trying to twist his head away from Len’s hand.

“I’m the Dad here, Donnie. I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around.” But when he’s unable to find anything close to a fever he pulls away. He looks to Danny hoping he’d see something Len missed but the rat shrugs at him.

“Is it still ok to go tutor April today? Please? I’ve been cooped up here all winter.”

Len wants to say no, but sighs at the pleading look Donnie gives him. It had been a longer winter then usual, he didn’t blame his son for needing some space. He was no longer a five year old but he still had a hard time telling him no for no good reason. “Yeah, but if you start feeling sick you come home ok? Or ask Myra to help you home.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” As Donnie downs his last bit of coffee he stands back up. Len had turned to poke at his breakfast again when he feels Don's arms wrap around his collar bone and rest his cheek on Len’s head. “I love you Dad. Thanks for being obnoxious and worried.”

“Aw. Love you too, silly gecko.” Len pats his arm in reciprocated affection. Donnie grabs his shoulder back and hurries out the front door. “Have fun!” Len calls after him. Only then did he look back to Danny. “He looked pale right?”

“Yeah but honestly it could have been the breakfast,” Mickey says, picking up a disc, “I even felt sick when I saw it.”

“First of all screw you,” Danny points at Mickey with his spatula, “Second of all, if he’s not feeling well he’ll come home. And third of all, next time you all can make your own crespelles.” Danny drops his last disk onto a plate when the shattering of ceramic fills the air. The three thieves blink at each other for a sec before Danny raises up the food slowly to show the plate underneath had been cracked in half from the sheer force of the crepe. With a defeated sigh, Danny drops his spatula. “Ok whose all for throwing these at trees and seeing if they shatter??”

Len and Mickey both raise their hands with a grin.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

“Donnie?”

Despite the softness of April’s voice Don jumps so hard his elbow hits the stack of April’s school books. It’s only by his reflexes that they don’t join the rest of April’s dirty clothes on the floor. It takes him a few moments to regather his scattered thoughts before looking to April. ”Did you say something?”

“Yeah, your name, like five times.” His oldest friend peers at him from over her glasses. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

Donnie would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t painfully aware of the migraine that would return if he did. Unfortunately, it had been haunting him ever since he woke up that morning. “For the last time yes. Uncle Danny made breakfast and it's just hurting my stomach. Now, the compound would be 23.6% more effective if you set the witch fire to exactly 129 degrees cinder.” He scribbles on the paper for a few moments before sliding it over to her. April casts him a suspicious look before looking over the paper again.

“If you ever convince your Dad to let you go to school, my Alchemy teacher would cry tears of joy. Again.” She pauses “They cry a lot.”

Don tries to smile but his aching head only allows him a half grin. As April starts adding his notes to hers he reaches for his yunomi of tea, not thirsty so much as needing the warmth for a subtle cold that clings to his skin.

There’s the sound of a door opening downstairs followed by the sound of a woman shrieking and dozens of items hitting the ground. ”A-April dear!!! I could use some help!” calls the unmistakable voice of the Mayor of witch town.

April was already out of her seat. “Coming Mom!” she calls hurrying for the door. “Don’t do my homework Dee!” she calls behind him.

“I would never!” Donnie says [even though he had already been reaching for her note book]. A few years ago he had the brilliant business idea, in lieu of being able to go to school himself, to do students' homework for them for a small [not so small] fee.

Of course before he could even launch his venture his Dad had found out and outright forbade it.

This time he’s unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The effect is instantaneous as the lights in the room become painfully saturated. He tries to cover his eyes but his world is already spinning.

It’s the last thing he feels before he blacks out

(#)#(#)

“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” Len says in a tone that can only come from nine years of parenting experience. It does its job on Mickey who’s shoulders bunch up to the sides of his head, and even though Danny is trying to pull off ‘I don’t know how you think you can guilt trip me’ by leaning back in his seat. But it's hard to look innocent when the two of them are covered in mud.

“IT WAS DANNY’S FAULT!!” Mickey shrieks pointing at the rat. “After we knocked over a tree with one of his crepy things he told me that he knew alchemy that would make mud into chocolate and-and-“

Danny’s ‘calm bad boy’ dis option went out the window (which was also broken because of a wayward flying crepelle). “Who the hell raised you to be a snitch?!” the rat hisses.

“You did!! I learned it from watching you!”

The rat opens his mouth to argue before thinking. “Ok fine but I always taught you to get paid first.”

Len slaps a hand down his face. Normally he and Danny have reversed roles but he should have recognized that wild look in the rats eyes when Mickey was using one of the leftover crepelles as a tool sharpener. But Len, forgetting they were not in fact grown men but children pretending to be adults, had left them to their own devices.

There is a knocking on the door that makes Len sigh again. ”I have a fourteen year old and he has more common sense than you two.” He says in a way that is probably supposed to make them feel ashamed, but Mickey snorts loudly with his flippers over his mouth.

He opens the door to a flash of light that forces him to cover his eyes for a moment before his eyes adjust to the familiar form of the mayor of Witch Town. “Myrah?” He rubs at his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to come get Doniel, he has a fever and passed out while tutoring April.”

Len felt as though a cold chill had passed through his body, it was the only reason he hesitated. “Y-yeah just give me a sec.” He ducks back into the house, where Danny is already waiting.

”Len what’s-“

“Donnie passed out, I need you to come with me,” already the air of lighthearted teasing and jabs went out the window. Len is back down the stairs with a quilt from Donnie’s bed as Danny is grabbing his coat and tossing Len his. He almost feels bad for Mickey who can only watch on as the two exit. Myra waves her wand, the bright light from earlier returns, creating a portal in front of them. Len barely waits for the portal to form before stepping through. A moment later he is standing in the familiar oversized living room. He had been to the witch family house many times and each time was always surprised how disproportionate all the furniture was, (which made sense considering how tall Amaranth was).

The child in question was lying on the bright pink sofa under a thick blanket. There was a washcloth hovering over his head, every few seconds wiping at his brow. April looks at them when they enter with panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened Lenny, I went to help mom with groceries and-and when I came back-“

“Its ok April, it's not your fault.” Len takes her place by Donnie. His son's brow is furrowed underneath a layer of perspiration. Even though he already knows the answer, he presses the back of his hand on Don’s brow. His already racing heart is now beating so fast it almost hurts in his chest. He replaces the blanket Myra had given him with the one he had brought, wrapping him up in it before scooping him up into his arms.

“I’m sorry Len, if Amaranth had been here she could help but...” her fingers tap together anxiously as she watches the child in his arms. Len was always touched by how much Myra and Amaranth cared for Donnie. He never felt the need to have a partner (though he and Donnie both made enough ‘mom’ jokes about Danny to last a lifetime) it warmed his heart to know someone outside his family loved Donnie almost as much as he did.

“I know, thank you.” He moves past the mayor to where the portal was and in another flash he's back in front of his house where Danny is waiting. The rat reaches out and takes him around the shoulders and herds him inside. “He’s burning up Danny, I-I don’t know what happened, I felt his forehead his morning and he was fine, you saw me do it.”

“I know, I know.” Even though Danny claimed that he didn’t remember any of his medical training he’s already looking over Donnie. Trained eyes looking for anything that could tell him what was wrong. After a few moments Danny says to Len, “Get him into bed I’ll be there in a sec-“

“Ah-shouldn’t we put in him some ice?”

“No, the last time we tried that he almost went into shock before I stepped in. He’s a turtle, he can’t handle it.”

“I-I know.” Len unconsciously cradles Donnie closer to his chest protectively. He could still remember the terror of the time when Donnie got the Fall Flu and had a fever that burned his hand. They had gotten so desolate they had put him in a tub of ice to combat it. They had thought it was working until Don had fallen into a deathlike stillness. It was only then Danny had realized Donnie was going into shock and pulled him out so quickly they had knocked over their makeshift tub.

Now Len couldn’t tell if the shivers he was feeling were from Donnie’s sleeping form or from his own fear. Not until Danny put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into his eyes. “Can you get him to bed please? I’m going to mix together some medicine that Amaranth taught me and I’ll be right there, ok?”

Len nods “Ok, ok.” He lowers his cheek onto Don’s scalp as he carries him upstairs. It's only when the parent and child are out of sight does Danny let out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his scalp under his hat and forcing himself to calm down. He had never realized how much he depended on Len keeping a calm head. He hadn’t realized just how much he depended on that til they brought Donnie in. During missions Len had an eerie calm about him that he thrived off of. But it was moments when anything threatened the health or happiness of his child that threw Len in the deep end and forced Danny to step in.

“Mickey,” he says without looking behind him, knowing the poor eel was fluttering around not knowing what to do. “Will you please go upstairs and keep Len calm? Help him how you can til I get there.”

“Y-yeah ok.” The eel hurried to do as he was told. In that moment Danny allowed himself one more sigh before reaching under the cabinet and pulling up an old beaten box, filled with herbs and remedies he had swiped from houses over the years. He pulls out a notebook he had filled with some of Amaranth's recipients and pulls out a mortar bowl and pestle. Picking through a few jars of tiny shards and grinding them together before taking out an empty incense holder and pouring it inside. He made sure to secure the lid and take up the glass bottle under his arm before hurrying up the stairs.

A part of him had been scared that Len’s own fears would drive him to ignore his warning about the ice, but he entered Don's room just as Len was pulling a blanket over him. “Good job.” Danny moves past him to kneel by the bed, turning and handing the incense to Mickey. “Can you light this please? It’ll help clear the bacteria out of his lungs.” As he was twisting open the glass bottle he heard Mickey spark behind him before the smell of lavender filled the air (he ignored Mickey gagging behind him). He tips the tip of the bottle to test how much liquid was inside. Luckily, they still had enough for Donnie (he’d have to steal more later). He dabs his thumb with the light pink liquid before running it across Don’s burning forehead. ”There.”

“Is he ok?”

Danny had to commend Len on not asking him a million questions. He reaches back and pats his old friend on the knee. “The Willow Extract should help take his fever down, but if It doesn’t help in a few hours we’ll go to witch town.” He doesn’t get a response, but when he turns to look at him, he sees Len staring at his son. His dark eyes full of concern and fear that only a father could have. Danny stands up and steps back. “Len why don’t you sit with him for a bit, and I’ll make you some tea.” He makes eye contact with Mickey and jerks his head towards the door. After taking a moment to pat Len on the shoulder he follows him out the door.

Len finally lets his face drop into his hands with a shaky breath before the sound of a weak cough reaches him. When he looks up again he was filled with relief to be looking into Donnie’s feverish dark pink eyes. “Hey,” says a weak voice.

“Hey baby boy,” Len sits up on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to kill me with one of Uncle Danny’s devil pancakes.” He barely has enough wind to finish his sentence before he has to gasp for air. “Will you sit with me please?”

Len can't help but smile, holding the side of Don’s face with his hand for a moment before climbing over him and laying on his other side. Don turns his head and tucks his head underneath Lens chin. “I’m s’rry,” Don mumbles, “I-I didn’t know I was sick.”

“I know you didn’t, you’re not a good liar remember?” Len lowers his cheek onto his scalp. “You get that from your Uncle Mickey.”

“And you?”

“Nah, I’m a great liar,” he smirks down at Donnie, “I’m not going to teach you how to lie though until you turn eighteen,” he pauses, “Hundred.”

Donnie lets out a laugh that sounds more like a raspy balloon, but Len can tell he’s trying not to fall asleep again. He rubs Don’s arm over his blanket. “Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” The teen gives a nod of acknowledgement before rolling towards him. A few moments later he's fast asleep again, breathing easier than he had been a few minutes ago.

[glenncoco4]

Doctors and Detectives Part 4

Final chapter of this mini-series! Hope you guys enjoyed it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She slowly starts to come to, not sure if it’s been 15 minutes or 15 hours. It’s dark that she knows, the only light in the area is coming from a semi-large fire in the corner. Her fingers find the crown of her head where she feels the stickiness of her blood trail from. Judging by how quickly she went out, the blood and the nausea that is slowly making itself known, she can without a doubt diagnose that she has at least a mild concussion along with a possible broken ulna.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly sits up as she assess the rest of her body and once satisfied she’s able, she stands up to gather her bearings. Knowing that her arm will get in the way, she begrudgingly takes off her white coat and blue scrub top, unpinning her father’s ring and slipping it into her pocket before ripping the seam of the blue top to use as a makeshift sling.

She picks up her phone, already knowing that it’s dead, and seeing as though she may be stuck here for awhile all she knows to do is look for others.

The day only gets worse as she’s maneuvering around the rubble and comes face to face with many lifeless bodies that belong to her colleagues. She has no idea how she’s going to recover from this...if she ever does.

A sudden cry draws her attention towards the blazing fire. Getting closer, the cries become louder, she’s examining all around looking for any signs when a head of curly black hair that’s covered in soot hits her line of sight.

Quickly jumping over the steel beam, the doctor races towards the little girl who is probably no more that 4 years old. Tears are falling down her little cheeks, the light of the fire illuminating her ebony colored skin, and the most heart wrenching terror in her brown orbs. “Hey, sweetie. It’s okay.”

“I want my mommy.” She whimpers, her cries dying down as Kensi’s presences calms her a little.

“Okay, we’re gonna find your mommy. Can you tell me if you hurt anywhere?”

“My leg and my tummy.”

She’s never been all that great with kids, I mean her patients sure, but outside of the hospital and her stint with DWB, she’s never really around them. But this little girl needs her right now so she can’t dwell on that. “Okay, what’s your name, baby?”

“Everly.”

“That’s a beautiful name.”

She smiles her tears all but dried up. ‘Thank you. What’s your name?”

“My name is Kensi.”

The curly haired little girl suddenly gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. “That’s my bestest friend’s name.”

“No way.”

Everly nods her head but then winces as the movement causes her abdominal muscles to contract.

“Okay, Everly, is it okay if I check your tummy?”

She nods, cringing as the doctor slowly pulls up her shirt.

The brunette doesn’t even need to test the tenderness her belly to know what’s wrong. The extremely darkened skin tells her what she feared all along...internal bleeding. Their rescue is even more paramount now.  

“Am I gonna die?”

“Not if I have anything to do with it.”

Knowing that they’re in a vulnerable place, the brunette takes a scan around the rubble in search of tools to make a splint for the little girl’s leg. “Okay, sweetie, I need to splint your leg, its gonna hurt but I need you to be brave for me.”

“Okay.”

Grabbing the two pieces of wood and tearing the cloth of her top, Kensi adjusts Everly’s leg resulting in a high pitched scream of pain.  

“You are so brave. You’re doing great.”

“I want my mommy.” Tears pool in her little eyes once again unable to hide how scared she truly is now.

“I know you do, baby. I know you do.”

She doesn’t know how long they’re gonna be stuck down here so she carefully picks up the little girl and walks over to find the sturdiest place possible. The sturdiest place possible also happens to be right next to one of the bodies of her colleagues that she thankfully covered up with her coat. Sliding down against a beam, Kensi cradles Everly in her arms, hoping that help is on the way.

The doctors sees the little girl slowly starting to drift off, she has to think on her feet knowing that she needs to keep her awake. “So, how old are you?”

“Five.”

“Wow, that’s old.”

“I’m almost a grown up.”

“You are. Do you have any tattoos?”

The little girl giggles as if that’s the most absurd question. “No, silly.”

“What about a boyfriend?”

“Uh-huh, I have three.” She says matter of factly.

The brunette’s eyes widen in surprise. “3? How do you keep up with that?”

“They know their place.”

“Oh, do they?”

“Yep. What about you?”

Kensi’s mind begins to drift off as she thinks back to two days ago and how she and her love spent the entire morning curled up in bed together before heading to the beach, only to come back home and end the day the way they started it. She just really hopes it wasn’t the last. “Yeah, I have a boyfriend.”

“Just one?”

The surprise in Everly’s chocolate orbs makes the doctor laugh. “Yeah, I don’t think I could keep up with 3.”

“What’s he look like?”

The woman thinks about the best way to describe Deeks when a grin spreads to her lips. “Have you ever watched Scooby-Doo?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, he looks exactly like Shaggy.”

They both start to laugh, but abruptly stop  when Everly winces in pain. All Kensi can do is make her comfortable now as her mind wanders back to the man she loves, wondering where he’s at and imagining the turmoil he’s going through right now.

XXXX

“You gotta let me in there, Claire.” The blonde detective follows the chief firefighter as she continues to help those that are being brought out by rescue.

“I’m sorry, Deeks, but I can’t have any more civilians in there.” She sighs knowing exactly how he’s feeling. It wasn’t too long ago that her wife was being held hostage at the bank and he was the one telling her she couldn’t go in even as a trained medic.

“Kensi’s in there.”

“I know. A lot of people’s Kensis are in there. You gotta let us do our job so we can get them out.”

It’s then that Jake comes over, pulling him away from the thick of the action so that Claire along with the others can get back to work and hopefully bring Kensi out alive. “Come on, man. Come help us over here.”

“I can’t loose her.” He starts to break at the thought of her lifeless body mangled in the rubble.

Jake’s arms wrap around his partner, trying to give his best friend the most comfort he can right now. No doubt if Katie were in there he’d be acting the same way. “I know, buddy. I know.”

XXXX

The silence around only builds with time as it finally sets within the doctor’s mind that they may very well die in here. As the fire only continues to burn hotter and spread, its inevitable.

“Kensi?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we gonna die?”

“No. No, we’re not.” She hates giving the little girl a false sense of hope but she can’t find it in herself to tell this sweet little girl that they’re most likely going to take their last breaths in this place.

There’s a beat of silence when suddenly voices that are not their own can be heard over the cracklings of fire. “Call out. LAFD. If anyone can here me, call out.”

“Over here! We’re over here!” Tears start to flood her mismatched chocolate orbs not only because this little girl will get the medical attention she now needs but once again she’ll be able to look into his beautiful cerulean blues and tell him how much she loves him.

It’s takes about 30 minutes for the firefighters to get her and Everly out. She’s able to walk out of the rubble on her own, her hand never leaving Everly’s as she’s carried out on a backboard. Once satisfied that the curly haired girl is being taken care of and is reunited with her mother, Kensi is ushered over to an ambulance where a medic attends to her injuries.

A few minutes later the medic places the last butterfly bandage across her forehead, as she’s looking across the parking lot, suddenly locking eyes with him. His cerulean blues are full of concern.

She watches as he takes a deep breath before he starts running towards her, zigging and zagging through the crowd of people. Tears threaten to spill from her eyes as he closes the distance between them, his arms opening wide, leaving her to all but fall into his embrace. “God I love you so much.”

“I love you.”

He pulls back slightly from their embrace, cradling her head between his hands while he examines her injuries. “Are you okay?”

God how she loves this man. She’s not really sure what’s going to happen after today but as long as he’s here she knows she’ll be okay. With a small smile, she leans forward, bringing her lips to his, pouring all the love she has for him into the kiss. “I am now.”

As they relish in the feel of being wrapped up in each other’s arms, Deeks’ eyes are drawn to the figure walking up to them, curiously wondering what’s going on.

“Excuse me, Kensi?”

The brunette turns around as she sees the man approach hesitantly. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Everly’s dad.”

“How is she?”

“She’s was rushed into surgery, but the other doctor said that if it wasn’t for you she’d be dead. My little girl’s alive because of you.”

“It’s nothing really.”

“No, it’s everything.” Shaking his head, he can feel the tears build up in his eyes. “Everly told my wife how you kept her safe and wouldn’t leave her side.”

“She kept me safe just as much. You’ve got a strong  little girl in there.”

She sends him a small smile as he almost looks a little lost. “Go be with your family.”

“Thank you.”

Deeks sees that she’s about to loose it, so he takes hold of her good arm and pulls her behind the ambulance. His arms carefully find their way around her and the tension in her body slowly ebbs away, tears now falling from her eyes.

She slowly collapses against him, pulling him to the ground with her as the pain of today lets itself known. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“I know. All I could think about was never holding you again or seeing your beautiful smile or...”

She looks up at him, reddened eyes full of curiosity. “Or what?”

Reaching into his pocket, the detective pulls out the small object that he’s been holding onto for months now. “Or give you this.”

More tears begin to fall from her eyes at the sight of the delicate diamond ring placed between his fingers.

“I know this isn’t the most romantic of settings but after today, I just can’t wait anymore...Dr. Blye, will you marry me?”

She can’t help but let out a teary-eyed laugh, as she reaches into her own pocket and pulls out the band that once belonged to her father. “Only if you marry me.”

“So is that a yes?”

She burrows her head back into his chest, nodding in confirmation.

This time its a little easier to find the joy instead of dwelling on the sadness.

[andmaybegayer]

Last Monday of the Week: 2021-03-01

First Monday of the Month. My boss just quit at work which means I'm now the only formally trained engineer left who has any particular specialization in embedded systems. This week is going to be a doozy.

I also wrote a Very Long set of media updates because I’ve been consuming some stuff that makes me think a lot. Never a good sign.

Listening: I spent all of Saturday playing Minecraft after talking with some friends about it during the week on IRC. Practicing what I preach with regards to my Large Biome Supermacy policy, which does involve a lot of walking. Hence, I started catching up on The Adventure Zone: Graduation again, I'm like ten episodes behind.

https://maximumfun.org/episodes/adventure-zone/the-adventure-zone-graduation-ep-32-by-a-haircut/

I don't really enjoy Travis' DM'ing style. It's very loose and he has a tendency to let players run wild without much structure which is a tricky thing to handle. He does a lot of worldbuilding and character design but doesn't seem to plan much in the way of arcs. That pays off sometimes (returning to the school to realize they broke a promise they made a few sessions earlier and had to deal with consequences, for example) and when it does, it’s really good, but it's finnicky. I know DM's who can do that, but, well, actually I know One Single DM who can do that well and she's absurdly smart.

Reading: Still on Worm, I just got past chapter 8 or so now. It lives in my phone browser so I've mostly been reading it whenever I get some spare time, which is a good sign. If a book doesn't grab me I need to really settle down in a quiet space to avoid getting distracted, but I can read Worm while someone else is on the phone in the same room.

It is a story with a lot of very well-conveyed feelings and events. It's very easy to imagine yourself in it. Characters actually act like they care about what they're doing, I feel like writing this took a lot of care to keep everyone on model.

There's also a certain care given to the superpowers that you'd usually only see in forum posts arguing about an actual superhero story. Everyone always likes to argue about how far you can push a superpower: can you use teleporting to fly? What prevents a speedster from catching fire in the air? Where does the energy for a  pyrokinetic ability come from? Worm takes these and runs with them as a way to make absolutely any fight become a series of gambits relying on whether a power can or cannot be used to perform some high-stakes trick.

The world certainly has some underpinning contrivances to explain why no one gets killed very often but I've always considered nitpicking the base contrivances of a setting silly, because that's precisely what they are: contrived, in order to allow the rest of the story to flow from there. Like arguing about Omega’s abilities in the famous thought experi-*I am dragged off stage by the ratblr police for making a by now extremely stale joke*

Watching: I came and edited this section in like an hour before this posts because I keep on forgetting to put it in. I don’t really like watching TV and with my parents stuck at home in Pandemic Times it’s how they pass the time.

I did finish S3 of the Good Place. It’s very funny. I’m glad I’m watching it and I’m going to have to go find S4 because ZA Netflix doesn’t have it for whatever reason. It feels a little like it was written by Phillip Pullman if Phillip Pullman was a comedy TV writer.

I also really enjoyed the PBS Spacetime video about how time causes gravity. Love when an explanation of concepts is good enough that you drawn the conclusion on your own.

Playing: Visual Novel Hell plus Minecraft.

I spent approximately seven hours in Minecraft over two days. I tend to hop in and out of games for 1-2 hours at a time but there's a handful that can suck me in for an entire day. Minecraft, Warframe, Horizon Zero Dawn, Night in the Woods. Bastion, to a lesser extent. I end up avoiding them because I don't like loosing entire days, but I wasn't really planning on doing anything this weekend anyways.

Minecraft was mostly a long-ass trek to find a saddle, because as previously mentioned, I enjoy playing it with Large Biomes for the sense of scale.

I also completed Act 3 of Psycholonials and Eliza.

Psycholonials is odd. It is doing the thing that Hussie does where it dances around what's ostensibly the story to carry out the actual story. You get used to the trope after your first encounter but it still makes you wonder when the other shoe will drop, and of course, there's no reason it ever has to. The story may remain in suspended animation behind the every growing mess of narrative red tape tying the B-plot together.

Stories about Social Media have no well established norms. I think I might pick up Feed by M. T. Anderson and also perhaps Hank Green's books sometime. See what context they set that in.

Eliza is frustrating to me. It's a game for programmers, by programmers, about programmers. I'm friends with a lot of Capital P Programmers, the types who go to university and get sniped for developer positions at Seattle or Silicon Valley tech companies and who make great and terrible things and then warn you about the deep problems that underpin the slowly rolling ball of venture capital and bloated technology that is the tech industry. But at the same time, it makes me feel like I've burnt out on that conceptually before I even went in. It’s a whole other world that I’m familiar with but very distant from. In fact, that’s kinda how I feel about Psycholonials too. I’m familiar with the social media rat race but I also don’t go there. Parallels!

My cousins (who are halfway to Capital P Programmers, only so much you can do halfway around the world from silicon valley) warned me not to go into CS, because it would bore me, and that's a non-trivial part of why I'm in Engineering. They gave the same advice about Biology and Physics, without that I may have ended up in Microbiology. it’s not my domain, but because of how Engineering is going, you end up a lot closer to programmers than you think. I found out the other day that most of the software developers on my team have no formal tertiary qualifications, which is accepted in CS but of course, right out when it comes to engineering. It’s a whole other world that I kinda expected to skip around. I might go into this another time, since this post is already getting long.

Making: I haven’t done any engineering scicomm posts on here in a while so I started a few blank drafts and finally got one off the ground. With some luck I’ll have that ready this week. What’s it about? Not saying! It might change!

I’ve been doing layout for a custom keyboard, I need to call a laser cutting place and find out what their kerf requirements are so I can adjust the path accordingly. Wouldn’t do to burn a couple hundred rand on an oversized part, I’m paying for this, not my employer like the other times I’ve done laser cutting, so I’m probably not going to spring for getting one of their designers to check my design. At some point I should CAD up a chassis, but at the same time I might just buy some wood and go ham with a router once I get the plates cut.

Computers Slot: I got WeeChat set up properly on my desktop, which technically was just a matter of getting my SSH keys moved over. It’s taking me forever to move in to Cinnabar, in part because Stibnite lost her boot partition and I haven’t bothered to fix it.

So here’s a pitch for WeeChat as a good quality Terminal UI IRC Client. Many of my closest friends live there and it has a good set of tools to help me keep in touch.

WeeChat is very configurable but with perfectly sane defaults, I didn’t configure it for years. The UI is smarter and less arcane than something like irssi, and if you enable mouse support it can be downright modern. Running it remotely like this limits some features but as long as you don’t mind jumping through a few hoops to do filesharing, IRC is really great like this.

One of the big ones is the ability to do that double-pane thing, I can keep an eye on two channels at once (really as many as I can cram on my screen, but usually two) which is great when you want to browse channels while talking in your home channel.

It also has a good array of remote access tools, from what I’m running up there, just weechat running on my server inside tmux connected over mosh for low-latency SSH, to weechat-relay, a relay protocol built in to weechat. At the moment relay only supports android phones and the glowingbear web client, but I’ve never really looked around since both of those cover all my needs. Easily one of the best ways to get IRC on a modern mobile device, barring maybe IRCCloud.

[blindrapture]

a union-mandated break post

(okay, let’s see if I can type this all over again after losing the post. gotta remember how it all went.)

Hey there, the few mutuals who Like all of my posts, the lurkers who occasionally make their presence known, the lurkers who I also hope are there, and all you folks who come across this post naturally before scrolling on (that’s fine too, please have a nice day! remember to take a deep breath and unclench!). I wanted to make a post giving a casual update.

Things have been going. You know how it is. Time proceeds onwards at a pace that is a crawl to some and fleeting to others, depending on relative perspective. The average of all these observations may be Objective Truth, a hazy mythical and abstract prospect which to this day no living human has ever known (due to the nature of perspective). We still try to know it for some reason, an endeavour which may be “a good thing” or “a condemnation of our species,” but that’s relative too. See above. Still, it is possible to take an approximation of what we figure this average to be and find ourselves (mis)balanced on a knife-edge in between all perspectives. This narrow path, the knife-edge between fast and slow, between good and bad, between ecstasy and despair, seems precarious at times, yet at other times is like a garden, wide and spacious enough to sit awhile. Our perspectives cover this garden from us with the shrubbery of Can’ts and Shouldn’ts, and the way to the garden is fraught with the misty cloud of Look-Like. And yet, ultimately, these shrubs and mists are but prismatic scenery colouring our time on this Earth, a perspective which is easy to see from within the garden. The Earth is brown and grey and immortal, though wearing an impermanent coat of blue and green. One day, we will slip out of our perspectives and return to the Earth, join her mounding’s mass, and that will be death.

So that’s the weather. Sometimes cold, sometimes mild, sometimes wet, sometimes dry, sometimes bothersome and sometimes the only backdrop I could ever want. I’ve been up to the usual, cycling between interests like a bat between haunts.

- The other day I got around to playing Smile For Me, an experience which took me about three hours to more-or-less complete 100%. Really cute game, I fell in love with all the characters, and the budding horror elements made me excited to see where it’d go.

- Currently I’m playing A Monster’s Expedition Through Puzzling Exhibitions, a game often cited in the same breath as Baba Is You and Stephen’s Sausage Roll. I think those two games are puzzle masterpieces, and A Monster’s Expedition is hitting me in the right spot. It frequently fills me with awe, which is impressive considering the game is just a long series of oblong block-pushing puzzles. It has scope, though, and it has the guts to hide that scope from you until you’re able to discover it for yourself. I’ve played for about 10 hours so far, beaten over 200 islands, and yet I feel I’m only getting further away from the end goal. Hard to describe. It’s a good game.

- When I’m done with that game, next I’ll be checking out Spelunky 2. I’ve wanted to try the original for a long time but never got around to it; I picked up the sequel. I know very little about the games (with a rough idea of what gameplay is like), and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can. I like games that rely on discovery.

- Book-wise, I’m, y’know, reading Finnegans Wake as I fall asleep, occasionally inching through other books too, but my main reading focus at the moment is The Familiar. I went and picked up a new copy of Volume 5, and I found the Volume 3 I had kinda lost for a while, so now I have the full Season 1 again. And it’s been long enough since I read any of them that it’s finally time to reread them. As a unit this time. I am... so happy to be in their headspace. I’m currently in the second act of Volume 1, taking in a lot more details this time (and I do still remember a sense of where the whole plot goes), really cherishing the commitment to physicality and aesthetic. There’s not many authors out there like Danielewski. House of Leaves kickstarted my book obsession, y’know. And The Familiar is about as grand as a project can be. It’s supposed to be 27 volumes, each one 900 pages long, and the design of these books is goddamn sublime. The publisher only let him do the first 5 volumes, which is sad, but luckily those 5 volumes make up a “Season,” so they’re still a whole thing, a complete story arc for each of the nine protagonists, and plenty of secrets and details that give a good sense of the true scope. And did I mention the series is fucking scary? Profoundly so, each new volume weaving you deeper into its conspiratorial web of eldritch coincidences and patterns. The story is full of cats, immortal cats, God-cats. There’s a scientist who keeps a freaky magic orb and is known as Wizard. There’s an Armenian taxi driver who’s one of my favourite characters. And you can probably get all the volumes Used for fairly cheap on Amazon now. ........please, somebody join me in loving this series.

- Creative-wise, I’m working on music as always, putting notes next to each other until I get a result I can do something with. There is one piece that’s definitely done, a collaboration between Lindsay and I, but it’s going into Nine Is God so you won’t hear it just yet. Speaking of, that’s coming along. I haven’t even started making any codes or cool connections yet; I want to finish the... Core of this update first. Let’s be deceptive and call it the Main Blog. I have proven to myself that I definitely can do this; I keep stumbling on new mechanisms I can add, and I have a pretty vivid idea of what the whole thing will look like. It’s gonna be maybe a decent size for a Blog, all told, but it’s the form of the thing that mandates a lot of care. Luckily I have made Viceking’s Graab, so this isn’t the first time I’ve done something this mechanically ambitious. ...look, just. Of course I’m excited to Actually Talk about this thing, but like with the Graab, its nature requires me to keep it secret until players finally discover it for themselves. I like making that kind of thing, I want the sense of discovery, of climbing up a hill only to reach the summit and see an even bigger mountain looming over you that you hadn’t realized was there. Like Frog Fractions, or its sequel, even if you know there will be more than meets the eye you still get surprised and filled with delight. This concept fits neatly into an ARG format.

- Oh, also, I’m super excited for the Braid remake. It’s gonna have a comically thorough amount of developer commentary, and that’s all I want from this world. It’s even coming to Switch!

Media can be used as a tool to assist with the experience of life, and that is the way I want to approach things. I have spent time adapting myself to feel comfortable in these boring aesthetics (of understated puzzle games, thoughtful pretty books, blogs as art) because this means I am less susceptible to getting burned out during contemplation and self-examination. It may seem like a matter of taste, but taste is relative too; it’s not hard-wired, it can be adjusted, it does adjust all the time under the hood. ...I don’t know where to go with this one, other than that I should be careful not to condescend. I am not above anyone, I am confused too. I just.. like confusion and mazes, and I try to speak these aesthetics in an approximation of how I see others talk about theirs.

Right. I think that’s the bulk of it, that’s what I wanted to say today. I hope you are holding on, reader. It’s a wild and lonely world out there, and it’s our world; it’s yours just as much as it’s anyone else’s. You are important to it.

I leave you, mysteriously, with an old Genesis song. It’s called “Can-Utility and the Coastliners,” which is a silly way of saying it’s a song about the myth of King Canute. Sick of flatterers claiming he was equal to God, he went to the sea shore and said “If I truly am equal to God, then let the waves halt at my feet!” They didn’t. An astute demonstration, but it just prompted his flatterers to praise his ingenuity. “But he forced a smile, even though his hopes lay dashed where offerings fell.” I’m not really sure how the story ends. But it’s a wonderful song, starts off very folks-y but quickly takes a left turn down Mystery and Beauty. And it’s freaking Genesis.

See ya.

[tcheschirewrites]

Hey, are you participating in NaNoWriMo? Have you ever? And what was your experience like? I'm considering it but I feel so intimidated because I know I won't be able to commit to it wholeheartedly. Lowering my expectations and pacing myself would seem like the perfect solution but work kills my creative brain cells by the seconds. I wouldn't be surprised if by the end of November I've only written half of page of alien language. Any advice? Also does Nano have to be a new project?

Oh man, Nano. I’m well familiar with Nano, and I’ve participated a few times (to varying degrees of success). This got very long, so I’m putting a cut.

The first time I attempted Nano was in 2006 for my novel Seerking. I had heard about it from a friend who was in an LJRP I was in, and she encouraged me to try it. I was still in high school at the time, and very frankly I did not have the dedication necessary to complete it. I got a lot of worldbuilding complete, but very little writing. I got about two pages of prose, and three notebooks of character and setting history, as well as a fairly detailed outline. I still have all of this.

The second time I attempted was in 2009, for a story that is based heavily on the Iron&Wine song ‘Boy With a Coin’. I got a little bit further, but I got stuck in a few places. I think it’s because my idea was bigger than my life experience, and I also got stuck in a lot of small details. Additionally, my first Word document (where I got about two chapters in?) was destroyed when my laptop’s hard drive just straight gave up on life - I did buck up and rewrite quite a bit, though it didn’t sing quite the same notes, and I have this handwritten copy still. (It’s possible I tried again with this same project the year after? I don’t remember tbvh)

My third attempt was in 2011, about a goverment operative and a faun. This one I got the furthest, and I still have the original handwritten draft and the typed copy. I pantsed this one, 100%. To this day, I still don’t know how this story ends, but I’d love to attempt a rewrite someday.

Then, unfortunately, from around 2012 until Fall of last year, I stopped writing period. I was in a real bad situation, and just didn’t have the energy for anything, let alone a novel. My most recent experience with Nano as an organization was Camp Nano, which is a much looser structure, and it is in May and July. Rather than the hard and fast 50k, you set your own goal when you announce your project.

I can understand your hesitance to participate, honestly. Nano is a beast of a project – to reach the minimum goal of 50k in the 30 allotted days, you have to produce 1667 words of new content every single day. This is approximately 3 pages, maybe a little more – which is a lot when you’re already stressed! And if you miss a day you have to adjust your daily totals for every following day, and the pressure starts to mount! It’s a lot, even if it is only meant to be a neat little challenge (mostly, I’ll cover benefits a bit later).

Now, my recommendations are going to follow two paths: planning, and pantsing. If you are naturally a planner – that is, you like having rough outlines, refined outlines, you like having character data, history, etc – then I recommend you have as much of your novel planned ahead of time before November 1st hits. Whatever notes or files you need to have set aside before you begin writing those first words, have them ready – read over them, refine them, and have them memorized front to back so that you know what your story is meant to be. If you are a natural planner, and you have not done this by today’s date (it’s 30 October where I am), then I do not recommend participating this year because it will stress you the fuck out and you might even make yourself sick.

The other popular option is called pantsing – essentially, you have a rough idea, and you’re flying by the seat of your pants. (This is literally what it is called on the Nano website, by the by – there are badges for it and everything.) If you are a pantser, then I still recommend a little preparation, but of a wildly different degree and type: find your story’s ambiance. If you are a pantser, think about what sparked the idea for your story? Try to put yourself back in the place (emotionally or physically) where you had the most intense version of the idea, and hang onto that feeling with both hands. This is incredibly important, because it will allow you to harken back to that feeling without chasing the high of first being hit by that feeling. If you are a pantser, focus heavily on the feelings you want to evoke with your story, and let your heart guide you.

Now the third option (I know what I said, I lied all right) is if you are a combination planner-pantser; you don’t want to have the rigidity of the outline, but you also like having a little bit of structure, or at least a direction to go in. If you are a combination planner-pantser, I recommend doing very soft preparation for yourself in the week leading up to Nano. So things like building yourself a playlist, maybe doodle what your main looks like in your head, or small details like character names and short dossiers. If you’re able, I recommend coming up with an ending, so you know what the end-goal looks like and you are able to track your story’s completion in your head.

For all three, I would recommend deciding ahead of time how you want to write your novel – are you going to type it up in a word processor (please make so many backups, do not live the heartache that I had to)? Are you going old school and hand writing it? Are you feeling like a boss that day and maybe want to dictate it into an app on your phone? Pick one, and make a dedicated space for your novel. You can mix them up, certainly, but make sure that you are able to consolidate effectively or you’re going to stress yourself out.

Now, you asked whether or not it has to be a “new” project. There are actually a few answers to this, depending on what you mean. Now, if we are to assume that “new” strictly means a brand new, fresh idea that you have just come up with specifically for National Novel Writer’s Month 2020, then the answer is no; it does not. Back in the day, there were a few purists that insisted you had to have a designated project every year, but like most purists, they’re just being assholes about it.

As a matter of fact, it does not even have to be a brand new project that you have not written any words for at all – however, if you do have an idea that you have already written for, you are not permitted to use any of your previous word count toward your goal. This is definitely a no-no. Personally, I’ve tried this, and I found it rough – I liked having the designated project, and I liked the buildup to it.

If you have, though, an idea that you’ve worked over and you are simply ready to start putting words on a page, this, I think, is Nano’s sweet spot.

Now, I know most of this 1000+ answer has been cautioning and reminders that Nano is tough – because, well, it is. It is a huge undertaking, and I feel like every participant has their horror stories to tell about their experience. But I want to reassure you that it isn’t 100% a hard slog to a dreary end; there are so many tools that Nano themselves provide you, as well as user-run communities and workshops, and even some benefits after the fact. These are the things I want to wrap this post up with.

Firstly, no matter how tired or stressed you are, if you register for nanowrimo.org, you’ll begin receiving daily emails from published authors and past participants. These range from silly and tedious, to incredibly comforting. My favorite one, which I cannot remember a lot of specifics from, was from a man who detailed his experience and reassured everyone that the work doesn’t have to be good – it just has to be 50k words. That’s it. You can have typos and errors all over the place, plot holes of all shapes and sizes, and a main character who doesn’t make any sense at all; it doesn’t matter, because the point of the event is simply to finish. Neil Gaiman has also said a time or two that your first draft’s only purpose is to exist. Just get the words out; you can fix them later.

Additionally, when you are completing your profile, you can enter in your location and there are designated forums for participants in your area. In the past, there have been meetups for group-writes and workshops as well, though I imagine they will be more along the lines of Discord calls this year. If you are a social person who needs a pair of eyes to help you work through a scene, Nano’s got your back. They will also send you statistics for your area for the average word count, daily word count, past winners, etcetera. It can sometimes feel like you are very alone during this difficult project, but a lot of these things bring a very human element to the event.

Finally, what comes after you have completed. A lot of these benefits are newer than my time, but I browsed through them when I did my Camp Project. When you complete the goal in the allotted time, you get a neat little badge for your webpage and a printable certificate for the immediate boost of dopamine. But you will also get discounts to some neat shit, like different word processing applications (I got 50% off of Scrivener when I finished Camp), as well as things like The Great Courses, discounts in the swag store, etc. But more than that, there are partnering websites who want to help you on the road to being published. Wattpad is in this group, but I believe also big name publishers (I might have seen Penguin on there at one point) are willing to work with winners to get their works distributed.

All that said, I recommend every writer attempt Nano at least once in their writing career. Even if I personally have not done so stellar in the past, it is a fantastic learning experience for all of the work that goes into producing a novel from start to finish – it forces you to know your limits, and sometimes to overcome them. I don’t think I will be participating this year – I have so many side projects that I want to get done, but I will very likely drop everything to do it next year. I have two novels that are real roughly built up that I could do for this, though, and I would love the dedicated time to spend on them.

[autumnslance]

how do you get into roleplaying on a ff server? like how do you do it and how do you know if your character is lore compliant? ;A; pls youre a big inspo to me

*Hugs Nonny* Getting into RP on a FF server can vary; I don’t actually RP much these days, outside of some friends I already have connections to--and that in itself can be difficult just due to Life! It can take time, and patience, and some fits and starts.

And this gets...really really long, so buckle up and go below the cut, please. :)

The cut got broken by an edit. Sigh.

In game there’s always the RP status tag, and just doing RP with folks in public spaces. There may be trolls now and then, but they can be ignored. I personally find Balmung’s Quicksand area too busy and anxiety inducing and not actually all that conducive to actual RP, even “meet at a tavern” walk-up type. But unless you already have a ready-made group of friends/FCmates willing to RP more than some random walk-ups with you, it may take some legwork to find folks you can and want to write with.

Social Media There are a couple of RP community blogs, like @mooglemeet​ and @ffxiv-crystal-rp​  and plenty of server-specific ones. There’s also some Discords for these communities. They host and advertise events and reblog people who are looking for RP contacts. Some of them have running gdoc calendars and in game linkshells and fellowships as well.

Shofie has a good post about Tumblr/social media RP blogging.

@shofie-ffxiv

It’s a fact now that social media outside game is a way to make contacts, or even a medium for RP itself. There are few centralized websites/forums for server RP communities anymore. Making connections over your social media, like Tumblr and Twitter, can help find RP. You can’t just throw your own character info out there or reblog prompts hoping others bite, though; you have to put in some work and show interest in others, too. This can be difficult and even scary. That’s OK.

RP is about collaboration and creating with other people, which means finding folks you can write with, and who see you as someone interesting but also interested in them and their OCs. If you want to keep it a solo endeavor focused on your own OCs, write fanfic (which I’ve actually made friends and gotten RP interests that way too through comment interactions, so hey).

If you reblog a prompt from someone, see others on your dash reblogging prompts, if people reblog that prompt post from you? Send them asks! Alternatively, don’t wait for prompts, just send asks, comments, or chats saying hello and things you notice or like about their blog/character/posts they make. Try to form connections with people you think are genuinely interesting and might be fun to talk with. Social media should be, well, social.

BUT respect boundaries, too. Don’t try sarcasm or jokes with people you don’t actually know, it tends to go over poorly. Unless someone’s specifically posting a naughty meme/prompt, keep stuff you others send clean and polite, especially if it’s unsolicited and you’re not already friends (doubly so if you don’t know how old they are IRL, there are laws you do not want to break). Respect if people aren’t open to random asks or chatting with new followers, or say “no” to RP, and know it’s not personal--it’s just what they have time, energy, and emotional/mental capacity for. Don’t give up on other people, though. This stuff can take time and effort to find those you click with.

Respect and communication with RP partners is pretty key.

Do curate your feeds and don’t be afraid to unfollow/mute/block folks, either. I’m selective in who I follow and remove as needed, too, for my own mental health. I miss so much of the discourse and drama and that’s fine by me. Also it costs nothing to not step in on a lot of the drama when it does pass in sight.

Profiles I have static RP profile pages for my girls here on Tumblr (and a lot of other static links and pages, but I’m weird about organizing like that). This way, if people want to write with me, send me prompts, if I sent them prompts, or they want to otherwise interact with my characters, the information is handily available. For some folks, this makes all the difference in who they choose to interact with: how easily can they find even basic info about your OC?

Some people make Carrds. Some folks have gdoc links, or use Dreamwidth, etc. Just keep the links in the blog’s sidebar menu, and/or in the blog desc so people can see ‘em on mobile. There are templates out there, or you can make your own. Feel free to snag mine if you’d like. A lot of times people also copy their profiles to rebloggable posts when looking for RP contacts. Profiles are a good way to let folks know just the at-a-glance basics about your character(s).

I picked a simple theme with a simple layout that makes it easy to add and show off links. I put them in the blog desc to make them easy to find on mobile, too.

[Images: links from my blog sidebar menu showing how over organized I am]

RP, Stories, Lore Post some stories or RP logs (with permission of others involved) or even just random little blurbs and headcanons, as well as any screenshots, art, aesthetic posts for your OCs. Have something of interest to show for your character, too, so some of those folks your interacting with have something of their own to see and ask about!

If possible, try some light RP with friends and FC Mates who are amenable. Go to events, even if just to lurk at first. When you do get up the nerve to talk to people, don’t try to throw a character’s entire backstory at them, or try to steal the limelight--RP is collaboration, back and forth, and a lot like real conversation. Maybe come up with little light things to talk about if asked; a recent adventuring job, a silly shopping incident, etc. They can break the ice or just give you something to reply with for a few minutes.

Lore Compliance is Variable. Some people really want lore compliance, others are OK bending it here and there, while still others throw it out the window entirely. If you want to be super lore compliant...read. There’s a LOT of information, in game and out, for finding lore; from official publications and website material, to tools like Garland Tools site, to compilation blogs like @mirkemenagerie.

Note what’s important for your concept. Narrow it down. Characters aren’t going to know or be or do everything, so only worry about what’s necessary for the base idea. And be flexible; it’s SE’s sandbox, we just play in it, and they can change things any time. They usually do it in the guise of characters not knowing/having all the correct information, at least, but also some places just don’t exist in game yet so we don’t have info.

I’m unspecific about a lot of elements of Aeryn’s childhood, for instance, other than “traveling merchants near Thavnair.” I don’t have to be super specific. I can keep most details vague, and focus on her family and those relationships.

Dark, as my first character, has a fairly simple backstory that I’ve expanded on and adjusted over time as I learned and came up with new info. I also bet no one remembers I originally said Dark was from the North Shroud. I’ve changed things (now from East Shroud, due to the proximity to Gyr Abania and its Hellsguards) as I learned more about the world and my character. You don’t want to change things willy-nilly, but sometimes being flexible and smoothing down some rough edges and making small changes can be fine, especially as one gets more lore over time.

Iyna has a pretty detailed backstory, that came from a basic idea, and checking dates in the pre-Calamity timeline. I based her being taken and trained the way she was not only on what info we have about Garlemald’s imperial practices with conquered provinces, but borrowed a bit from real life and the re-education schools many Native Americans were forced into (though I haven’t gone into detail on that yet, either). I tied the turning point in Iyna’s life to a major event that wasn’t the Calamity, and have left plenty of space in between for me to fill in as time goes on and I learn more about her and the world.

The world isn’t static, and is bigger and more diverse than what can be shown in the game. There’s space in the margins for plenty of weird stuff and contradictions or unusual cases. So read up on what you can, ask questions, and then find where in those spaces your OC fits. Then, find people who enjoy similar tastes in lore compliance (or non-compliance), and who enjoy playing with you and your OCs, and not worrying about the rest. Can’t please everyone, nor get along with everyone, so don’t try; just find what works for you, and who works with you, and don’t police anyone else’s pretendy fun times, either.

There’s no magic answer on the “right” amount of lore compliance, or how to quickly and easily find RP partners or break into the broader RP community.

I hope this helps at least a little bit! Good luck in finding your niche for RP, and maybe I’ll see you sometime at an event :)

[essektheylyss]

Prompt, if you are still taking them: “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and yet I don’t regret a moment of it.”

hi anon! I really loved this prompt! I didn’t quite know where I was going with it when I started writing it but I really liked how it turned out—I hope you like it!

The issue, of course, with sleeping in the dome, tucked among the rest of his friends, is that Essek does not sleep.

He trances, of course, he has to rest, but he is always cognizant of his differences from the people around him, and late into the evening his mind wanders from the books he reads while on watch and toward the knowledge that he will outlive everyone in this dome.

Watching them sleep so peacefully, seeming almost dead already, it is hard to forget.

He often finds himself on watch, too, nearly every night unless he is truly exhausted—it would be silly for him not to take a watch for the half of the night that he is perfectly awake, when the others need to recover from whatever chaos they have found themselves in today.

Tonight he is on watch with Caduceus, and the dark is all-encompassing beyond their dome in the Greying Wildlands, and though it is warm here, with the magic still pulsing even as Caleb sleeps, there is a layer of snow on the ground still, though it is well into spring by now.

Caduceus seems content to sip his tea, sitting almost meditative with his ankles crossed, sitting pleasantly upright though he is utterly relaxed. The firbolg frequently takes watch, and Essek finds himself watching him, seeking to find some kind of calm himself in the study of it. He has spent the time he has traveled with him looking over his shoulder, waiting even now for the knife in his back.

Beau tells him all the time that he’s going to break his neck from the nervous tic, but he can’t bring himself to let his guard down, not even here when he knows this dome will protect him—knows that Caleb protects them every night.

Still, it’s hard. He’s made plenty of enemies, as have his friends. He feels justified in watching out for them by watching out for himself.

And for the first time ever, really, he has very little in the way of complications with which to distract himself. They have plenty to do on their travels, but he is not consumed with the web of his connections and lies that have kept him occupied for so long, and it turns out that that was eating up far more of his time than he’d like to admit.

“What are you thinking about, tonight?”

The low voice stirs him out of whatever reverie he’d been caught in. He feels so aimless, the book in his hand a plaything rather than a tool, and he sighs as he sets it aside.

It feels like he has been unmade, in the time he has joined them. He doesn’t know who he is, in this life, aside from an accessory to the Mighty Nein.

He also cannot bring himself to desire any other circumstance, anymore. He only wishes that he could find more purpose, feel as though he can spend his evenings in any other state but introspection, in which he finds himself lost more often than not.

Any hope of getting reading done aside, he shuffles to sit beside Caduceus, who offers him a cup of tea.

It warms his hands, and though he wasn’t particularly cold, the white endless landscape in front of him doesn’t look so cold when he’s holding it.

“Thank you.” He sips it before he answers. “I don’t always know what I’m… doing, here. With you all.”

“We all feel like that.”

“I understand, but…” he doesn’t know how to find the words, or maybe the words are stuck in his throat. Even now, he finds it so hard to say things, knowing that once the words are spoken, they are no longer his alone. No longer under his control. “I do not feel like one of you.”

“Ah,” Caduceus hums, and sets his tea down. “I joined this group later than the rest of them too. And it was… quite an adjustment. I had never left my home before. I’d also,” he chuckles, “only ever put people in the ground, not pushed them to get there.”

Essek blinks against the soft humor in Caduceus’ discussion of death and killing. Even he has to puzzle over the words for a moment to understand what Caduceus had actually meant, but when the words settle, he nods.

“It was an adjustment, is all I’m saying. I mean, Veth killed me once. On accident, and Jester fixed me right up. But… I’ve done a lot of growing since we left. Lot more than these lands are doing right now. Maybe you’re still stuck under the snow, waiting for spring to finally come.”

Essek follows his gaze where the white of the ground and the black of the sky fade together in a soft grey, rather than meet at any clear horizon. Whether it is Caduceus’ faith-laced reassurance, or the night’s resemblance to the luxon, he allows himself a brief moment to wish for divine purpose.

It’s such an odd realization, how much his purpose has always been laid out before him. No wonder he’s never had any use for belief.

Now, it feels like belief doesn’t have a use for him.

“Do you remember death at all?” he wonders, and then thinks maybe he shouldn’t have asked, but the words are out of his mouth, so he continues. “What was it like?”

“Ah,” Caduceus smiles. “I don’t think I got far enough to know, really. The Wildmother carried me, though, both ways.”

No, divine purpose is not something he has ever wished for, but looking at the serene smile on Caduceus’ face, he thinks it would be nice to have, if only for the reassurance that he was doing something.

“You’re looking for a use,” Caduceus continues, steering them back to the original question before Essek can fall down a rabbit hole of morbid contemplation. “And you have one, but it doesn’t feel like enough. Caleb can take care of a lot of what you have to offer, and it might feel like there’s no place for you in that. But I don’t think that’s true.”

Essek sighs. “I don’t know. It seems like I need you all a lot more than you need me.”

Ah. That was not a confession he had particularly planned to make tonight.

Caduceus hums again, content that he’s gotten to the crux of the issue, and the words are already out, so Essek continues.

“I think… you are all the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. This… this remorse—it feels as though it will drag me into the earth. I didn’t have that, before you all. I could’ve survived in Rosohna without it, but now… I cannot return, because I know that this will ruin me now.” He looks up at the firbolg, his tea cooling, but now that he is on the path toward answers, he needs to follow it to its end. “How is it that I don’t regret having met you?”

“Because no one truly regrets being saved,” Caduceus says, and pats him warmly on the shoulder. “They only regret getting to the point where it was needed.”

Essek presses the cup to his chest. It is still warmer than his heart, but perhaps he is clawing his way from the soil like a seed, praying for the thaw.

“Spring always arrives eventually,” Caduceus says softly, then finishes his own tea and sets the cup down among his things. “I think it’s time I wake Jester for her watch.”

He stands, his head nearly the height of the dome, and Essek feels very small, sitting below him.

“Thank you, Caduceus,” he says gently, not even loud enough that he’s certain Caduceus will here, but he smiles down at him regardless.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Writober 2020 - 25 (Orange)

Summary: Well... when Bo fucks up, she really fucks up, Luckily, CVS is open 24/7. Even luckier, Alistair’s coming with her. How hard could it be to get some damn pink hair dye anyway?

---

There was nothing like the Normandy needing some repair work done that made him appreciate down time.

“You like that, Saren? I got it from your favorite place as a little surprise while I was out getting supplies for everyone.”

The small, round ball of fur continued to shove his food into his bulging cheeks. He was going a little faster than usual of course – that's what happened when he got his favorite snacks – but soon it would all be stored away for later. Until then, he would continue to look absolutely adorable as he sat in his enclosure.

Alistair had picked up more food and bedding for the hamster while he was out, along with a few chew toys and a new hide. Maybe he was spoiling Saren, but... well, why not? Space hamsters may have lived longer than their Earth counterparts, but they still maxed out at 10. They hadn't been sure how old   he was, so... why not make every day count?

Besides, he had pissed on Miranda. That made him a hero.

“It was really busy at the shop when I popped in today. I guess word got out that I go there.” He chuckled as he watched his hamster finish stuffing himself silly. “All full? You look like a little beach ball, Sar.”

Maybe it was his imagination, but he swore he saw Saren's cheeks puff out in indignation.  At any rate, he was soon tunneling into his bedding, to wherever he was storing his food in this cage layout. Alistair would find the remains eventually when he cleaned. It was kind of like one of the weirdest treasure hunts he had ever taken part in...

“Well, bye I guess.”

He shrugged his shoulders and started to return to his desk. However. A beeping from his omni-tool drew the Spectre's attention. There was a message there from Bo – fucked my omni-tool again, might have water damage. Fix?

Oh great... water damage.

“She's lucky I got some extra parts when I went shopping.” Alistair shook his head as he grabbed his tool box and jacket. “Saren, watch the room while I'm gone. If you see anyone from Cerberus sneaking around, you know what to do.”

That was of course look cute to entice them in, then bite the shit out of them. It was a good plan, and Saren executed it like a pro. That's why he always felt a little better when he left to go on missions. How could he not when he had his own personal attack hamster?

Bo hadn't said where she was, but he knew her enough that he stopped by the crew floor to find the XO office. The door was open, so he nudged it open and stepped through. There was water running – was she showering?

Well, good to know she trusted him.

“It's on the desk!” Her voice called out over the water. “Did Saren like the snacks you got?”

Alistair settled into his CO's desk in order to fix her very water-logged omni-tool. He cocked his eyebrow as he examined it further. At first he thought it was a trick of the light, but parts of the band looked to be faded to almost white. A smell test confirmed it as he shook his head. Luckily, he had a replacement band in her size.

“Yeah. Did you forget to take this off when you were bleaching your roots though?”

Bo shut the water off – must've been done rinsing. “Some of it dripped while I was working.”

Of course it did. Alistair resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he pulled the stained band off. After that, it was simple diagnostic and replacement. Apart from the soldering of some replacement bits around the screen, he could've done it in his sleep. Luckily, he was awake so that made it go much faster.

He hummed to himself as he worked. “No big deal, I figured you'd need a new one eventually so I picked one up.”

“Gotta love a well-stocked tech.” Bo sounded like she was shifting around. Then she stopped moving. “Aw fuck...”

Alistair cocked his eyebrow as he put the omni-tool down briefly. “Everything alright in there?”

His XO didn't answer. From the sounds of things, she was getting dressed. At least he knew she hadn't fallen or anything, but her silence was a little concerning. However, going into the bathroom was a bad idea, so he was left waiting on the other side.

“Bo?”

Two red eyes were soon on him. “We're going to have to go back to CVS.”

At first, he started to open his mouth to ask why. That question was answered for him as Bo came into view,  adjusting her shirt as she walked. She had indeed finished bleaching her roots and touching up the color but...

Well, that wasn't pink. In fact, it was pretty damn fucking orange.

She shot him a look that definitely could've killed. “Well, get it over with.”

Alistair returned the omni-tool to his toolbox for later and started patching up details for returning to the dock. “Well... let's be honest, ginger's better on me than you. You can fix that at least, right?”

After all, there was only one redheaded Shepard on the Normandy, and he was under 6 feet tall. Besides, pink really was more her color anyway. He may have been an utter failure when it came to fashion, but at least he sometimes knew basic color theory.

Sometimes, anyway... he still didn't see why he couldn't wear neon blue sneakers with green laces.

“Yeah, just go already.” her hood was already up over the nightmare. “Before anyone really starts making Shepard siblings jokes.”

Perish the thought...

---

“Have I mentioned how much I hate C-SEC?”

“Many, many times.”

Alistair could feel a dull headache throbbing at the base of his implant as he and Bo finally cleared security. For some reason, flying in on the fucking Normandy always attracted some measure of attention. He wouldn't have minded, but they were kind of on a tight schedule.

Bo still had her hood up as they walked. “I swear I checked that damn box before I bought it, how the fuck did this happen?”

“You're asking the wrong guy, maybe the manufacturer mixed up the packages or something.” He shrugged. “I'll check it out later once we get back.”

Hell, maybe a low blood sugar had caused it. Bo might not have been as sensitive to biotic-induced hypoglycemia as he was, but there were times she still got it. For all he knew, this could have been a hypo fuck up. Of course, he'd never suggest that – that was just insult to injury.

What could he say, he was a paragon of virtue like that. Though, maybe he should consider adding a CGM to her omni-tool when he got back...

At least the CVS didn't look too busy from the outside. The parking lot looked pretty empty, but that was probably due to the time. Even the Citadel had slow periods between shifts after all – people had to sleep and eat sometime. It was just a stroke of luck they hit it when they did.

What wasn't so lucky was the guy Bo all but body checked as she entered the store.

Alistair opened his mouth to apologize, but he didn't get the chance. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone coming. His reflexes kicked in, and soon a glowing blue barrier was erected around whatever was moving towards him. A shot ricocheted, and then they were down on the ground with a hole in their leg.

Huh. Now why would two guys in dark masks with guns be in a CVS? And why did the few people in there look like they had just seen a ghost?

“Oh, thank God. I thought - “ The clerk paused, realizing who was standing over her would-be robbers as if they did this every day – which, to be fair, they kind of did. It was just usually in armor. “Wait... are you Commander Shepard?”

Alistair was already checking vitals through the barrier. “Yeah. Bo, go get your stuff. I'll handle these two until C-SEC shows up.”

Their gear and weapons were honestly nothing special, and their plan seemed laughable at best. It was just their luck they had run into amateur hour at thievery school. Well, no doubt they had both earned scholarships to clown college for their boneheaded stunts.

At least the bullet wound didn't look like it had broken anything vital. He'd be able to stand trial for sure at this rate.

“Fuck...” Yeah, his sentiments exactly. “How'd you find us?”

Bo appeared from the aisle, carrying the correct box under her arm. With her hood still up, she slid it over the counter. “We walked in. Can I buy this now, or does C-SEC need to count the total?”

“Oh, they didn't get the chance to take anything! You two showed up just as soon as they drew their guns!” There were stars in the clerk's eyes as she ran Bo up. “I don't know how to thank you, I thought I was going to get shot!”

Alistair's medigel applicator dinged as it dispensed the appropriate dose for the would-be robber still trapped in his barrier. It would hold until he got proper medical attention with C-SEC. With that done, he checked on the other genius. He was still on the floor, groaning.

No surprises there – it was hard to take a full body check from Bo “The Pink Monster” Shepard and  make it out without anything broken. Definitely had at least some kind of concussion if the unfocused vision was anything to go by.

Well, at least he didn't crack his skull. Those were messy.

“I doubt they would've hit, their aim was terrible.” Bo accepted her bag just as the C-SEC sirens announced their arrival. “Well, took them long enough.”

She slung her bag over her shoulder. “Al, mind handling them? I'm gonna get back to the Normandy.”

Normally, this was the part where a commanding officer would have totally pulled rank and made his XO stay. After all, he hated dealing with C-SEC as much as anyone did. However, unlike most CO's, he wasn't a total asshole. That he saved for people who deserved it.

“Yeah, hurry up before they realize it's you.”

Bo actually passed two C-SEC officers on her way out, hood pulled low. Alistair shook his head as he straightened up. His hands still felt sticky from the medigel, but there wasn't much he could do about that at the moment.

At least there were no news cameras.

“Stop right-” A turian with purple tattoos lowered her gun. “Commander Shepard?”

He responded with an awkward wave that highlighted the sticky residue from the medigel. At least nobody could blame him for the gunshot – for once he wasn't armed, even though his Spectre status gave him that permission. Who needed to bring a gun into CVS anyway, except idiots like the ones on the floor? “Wrong place, right time. These two need medical attention, but I think they'll be ok. Their pride, not so much, but I can't fix that.”

That dull headache promised to get worse with the incredulous looks he was getting from the officers. Alistair could only hope that the store's cameras were working, otherwise they were going to have to interview him. And oh, he hated going down to the C-SEC offices more than pretty much everything except the Illusive Man, low blood sugar, and the sound of his own voice.

Bo better thank him for this one later... hopefully when her hair was back to pink. Again, orange really was more of his color. Chalk it up to the Irish genes and all.

“So... guess you want to have a chat then?”

Why did he even ask... fuck. He should've stayed in his room with Saren.

[wonderlyshyah1995]

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[trying-write-fanfics]

AsheXReader price of war part 10

Catherine was able to track down the Western Church. Though still recovering, Ashe insisted he joined his professor and brother’s executor. The fog was hard to navigate through, but Ashe knew he had to do this.They had to make Lonato rebel against the church against his will or manipulate him. They had to of twisted Chrisphoer’s death in order to get Lonato to raise a rebellion. It wasn’t his fault. He would right the wrongs, and erase Lonato’s shame on his name.

“ Lord Lonato’s blood is on your hands!”

 Catherine and Byleth tried talking to Ashe after the battle, but he was mentally exhausted to form a real conversation. He found more evidence that Lord Lonato was a mere tool in something much greater, but it only left him with more questions.

 Returning to the monastery, he found Y/n returning too. She didn’t go on the mission because she had family matters to attend to on her day off. He didn’t tell her the details of the mission he was going on before she left because if she knew, she would have dropped her family matters for him. It was nice of Catherine and Byleth to let him wander back alone, it gave him time to evaluate his emotions. Yes, he helped take down the western church and avenged Lord Lonato, but it was just a small piece in a larger system he cannot let take over.

“Look at the knight returning from his mission!” Y/n called out from the arena area.

“Yeah, took all weekend.” he called out.

Y/n had a different problem. Her family matters were getting called a talentless warrior, and her father does not even know why he agreed to send his daughter to the officer’s academy. Her father thought he was saying that with care, but no one in the room felt that. She was invited back home to see what progress was made, but when her scarred shoulder was revealed her father exploded in rage. If she was strong, she wouldn’t have gotten hurt, and now someone might not even want to marry her because of her torn up body. Her mother did defend her daughter saying she could open up a clinic if she didn’t want to be a knight or go husband hunting. That didn’t help much, profiting off of the injured and the ill made her father sick to his stomach because the goddess should decide who lives and dies.Her father told her that their sister-in-law is a single male cousin who might be interested in her, but that did not brighten the mood. Y/n was disgusted and full of shame. Her mother told her father to let Y/n graduate because so much can change, they are investing in the possibility of their daughter becoming a knight, maybe even a retainer for prince Dimitri...or wife. It tore down some self-esteem for Y/n. She thought she had made a ton of progress, and she hasn’t died, but that’s not enough, she has to be better than everyone else.

“How was your mission? You look exhausted.” She asked him.

“It was a lot of labor, I’m glad to be back.” he told her. “How were your parent’s?”

“Oh they just missed me, wanted to get a bite to eat together.” she lied. “Oh but I have something for you!” she sang pulling books from her bag. “They’re some fantasy novels I know my family hasn’t touched in years. They were just lying in the house, they all have knight’s tales in them. I figured you would like ‘em.”

It was such a grand gesture.

“Thank you Y/n, but I gotta confess something.”

Her eyes lit up at the words. Maybe he was still uneasy around her and was going to tell her they can’t be friends, she’s a try hard loser, and she’s a terrible student here at the whole academy. 

“Ever since my concussion, I’ve been having a hard time reading.” he told her.

“I can read them to you!” she spat not thinking at all, but was just so happy their friendship wasn’t terminated.

“You will?”

“Yeah it’s not a problem! I’ve already read these books a million times, and my voice is charming.” She said trying to take the flirting down a notch but ended up flirting with herself!

Ashe sighed, which only worried Y/n more. 

“Will you sit on the bench with me?” he asked her.

“Yeah, of course, what’s up?”

Her heart was pounding a million miles an hour. 

“I was hiding what my mission was about. I went with Catherine and Byleth to take down the western church.” he told her. “I killed some people today, and they used Lord Lonato for something bigger that I don’t even understand yet.”

“Ashe...are you okay?”

“I don’t know. The academy is seeming to be a lot more dangerous than I thought.” he told her.

Y/n didn’t come clean about her secret. It was so much more little and pointless compared to his. She just wanted to help her friend in any way shape or form.

“We’ll have each other’s backs, I promise.” she told him. “It’s not like we’re front lines people anyway.”

“I’ve also been thinking about trying to become a wyvern rider. The professor says I have a real talent for it.” He told her.

“Oh that's pretty great, will you take me for a ride sometime?” she asked.

“You can be the first.” he said without thinking, and then realized what he told her.

 It was just so easy to slip and say something like that with her. But she didn’t push away.

“Alright that’s a promise Ashe.” she laughed.

It was just easy to talk to her. She didn’t take things the wrong way, but she also didn’t take his flirting like on a deeper level he would hope. 

 Jealous eyes watched the duo, and wanted to intervene, but decided not to for it would only make a embarrassing fool. The jealous feelings thought they were coming from a place of concern, but there was a deeper meaning that hadn’t been understood yet by the brain of the eyes.

Ashe laid in bed thinking of the western church. It twisted his stomach into knots. Who else are they capable of corrupting? Is it just the western church or a group even bigger with access to all the weakness of nobles and commoners? He worried for Y/n and her family, they’re not a major house in the kingdom, if they fell to that evil group’s will, the church would kill them all. What side would Y/n take? Would they use magic to manipulate her? He looked at the books she gifted him and felt a little relief. He did like her, and wanted to protect her from such dangers. They will have each other’s back won’t they. No doubt. He didn’t fall for her for her looks, she was gorgeous, but he didn’t fall for her first sight. It would be silly, a noble he knew nothing about other than how pretty she is. No he fell for her with everything that had happened. The time she held his hand when professor Jerizta was being a total demon ghost, their late night training sessions. He thought back at the moment she held him when he was injured. How she hummed and told him things were going to be okay. Her hand pressed against his cheek. It was too much to think about in bed, he rolled over, tossed and turned.

“What are you doing out so late?” Felix asked Y/n as she snuck out of her room.

“Why do you care? Are you the dorm police?” She asked.

“Normally I have to yell at Sylvain for this kind of behavior, but you-”

“Well if I never do this maybe you shouldn’t scold me, it’s a one time thing.” She cut him off.

“You should really leave the monastery, go and find a husband.”

“First Ingrid and now me, what the hell Felix? What is your issue?” she asked him.

“Things are looking bad here and I don’t see them getting any better anytime soon. It’s best if you don’t get caught up in all of that. You’re not one who can stand bloodshed.”

“And how do you get to judge that?”

“I’m there on the battlefield with you. Save yourself the trouble.” He told her. “I already know what your father is up to.”

“Well, I can only get better with time Felix.” She told him. “Good night.”

“Your room is the-” “I’m sleeping with the wolves tonight. They’ll devour any fears I have about the battlefield. Wouldn’t that be nice so you won’t have to spend your nights telling me and Ingrid to go find a husband!” she yelled from the stairs.

She made her way to Ashe’s door in her long nightgown and candle. She didn’t let Felix’s words haunt her, but she can only assume that Felix got a letter from her parents telling him it would be a good idea to take their daughter out on a date. She grimaced at the thought of more embarrassing letters from her parents floating around, waiting to be used as black mail. She knocked on the door a couple times, and Ashe was surprised to find her so late in the night.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“I told you I was gonna read to you.”

“This late.”

“You don’t even sleep!”

He let her in. She wasn’t wrong. He picked out a book for her to read to him. She told him once more she read that one enough times, she knows the story by heart. She set the candle on the nightstand. He laid in bed wondering where she was going to sit.

“Scoot over.” She told him, sitting right next to him in his own single person bed.

But he complied. It was awkward as first listening to her read since they were both sitting up. He noticed she was cold, so he put the blanket over both of them which only made his heart beat faster. She kept reading to him though. She would make silly voices for merchants and ogrs that came into the story. He relaxed more as the situation seemed to normal itself out. Without thinking he placed his head on her stomach, and even had his arm over her waist. When he realized what he had done, it was too late to really react. She was still enjoying reading to him and he wouldn't want to dwindle the spark she had going on. She also didn’t stop him or seemed uncomfortable. His actions did make him hyper aware of the situation. She adjusted her arm, and placed her hand on his back. It was all so much. He didn’t know if he thought of the word in his head he would be able to handle it. They were cuddling! In HIS BED. IN THE EYES OF SOTHIS. He tried staying as still as he possibly could to draw attention to himself. She smelled nice, the fabric of her nightgown was soft, it was all intoxicating, she was right there! She can’t see how he’s internally reacting to the situation! He wouldn’t be able to talk without sounding like a banshee. 

 At some point he realized she’d stopped reading. He propped himself up on his hands, removing himself off her stomach. She’d fell asleep, IN HIS BED! WITH HER ARM WRAPPED AROUND HIM! His mind raced with what to do? Does he sleep in her bed? Does he wake her up? What if she gets caught leaving his room, surely she would get in trouble. He laid back in the bed, facing her, unable to come to a conclusion. She rolled over, and her face landed in his chest. Maybe his next action was selfish, but he blew out the candle and put the book on the floor. He let Y/n sleep in his chest, because she let him use her stomach as a pillow.

 The next morning the duo woke up around the same time. Ashe jolted away from her realizing what he did, but she awoke casually.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” she yawned.

“No, no, it's fine, you were doing something nice for me.” he told her.

“How am I supposed to leave though? I’m in my pajamas, and my dorm is on the second floor.” she whined.

“I have an idea.”

 The idea was he would give her his spare academy uniform so she could go back to his dorm. If anyone asks why she was there, she would say she was stopping by early in the morning to study together before the library opened. The plan did end up succeeding. 

“Here are your clothes back good sir” she was being dramatic.

“Thanks.” he laughed.

“I should be thanking you, you really saved my ass.” she told him.

“You were just taking care of me.” he told her.

“Well, I had fun too. I haven’t read those stories in awhile.” she told him

 She also had fun? This crush was going to be the death of him.

[undercoverwizardfanfiction]

ROTTMNT FANTASY AU

Mud is Thicker the Blood (1)

Sick Day

Summary:Compilation of Donnie growing up being raised by his adopted family the Mud Dogs

He had been feeling fine that morning, but thankfully he has a family to take care of him

Gift for: @void-inked-pen birthday

Characters: Donnie, Loathsome Leonard, Malicious Mickey, Dastardly Danny, April O’Neil, Myrah

Pairings: You’re in luck! all the pairings for this fic are just past this door *gestures to wall that has a badly painted door under it and the laundry basket above it that’s suppose to be some sort of trap*

yes this is the same story twice. but this one shows up in the tags so it stays

“What is this supposed to be?”

Even though Len had been using as polite of a tone as possible, Danny still gives him a heated glare. He uses his spatula to scrape the blackened flat pastry off his frying pan and onto Len’s plate with the consistency of a dried brick. ”They’re called crespelle’s. My Dads used to make them for me and my siblings all the time.”

“Are they supposed to be…” Mickey pokes it with his flipper, “rocks?”

Danny lets out another angry huff. “I couldn’t remember the ingredients, alright??” he says, flipping another burnt disc onto a plate. Len uses his chopstick to poke at the burnt food. For someone who had known the sting of hunger many times and learned to not be picky, he finds himself wondering if he can sneak out back and compare the taste of the burnt disk to dirt.

The sounds of footsteps tells him the last member of their little family was coming down to join them. “Morning,” Danny calls. ”I got a nice big breakfast for my only grateful family member with taste!” Danny says as he starts stacking another plate.

Donnie is pulling on his hooded cardigan as he reaches the bottom step, eyeing the breakfast with a concerned eye. “Doooo I want to know?” he asks before looking to Len with a look that clearly says ‘remember how I never forget ‘best parents day’? you owe me’. It takes more than a little willpower to keep from laughing but manages to duck his head to hide his grin before turning to Danny.

“How about we spare my kid this time? He’ll never hit his height goals if he eats this.”

Danny unties his apron and stomps over and pours himself a cup of coffee all while grumbling about ‘uncultured swine.’ This time Len can't stop the snort that escapes him this time but when Donnie takes his spot at the table his smile falters as Donnie pours himself a cup of hot coffee. Leaning over the mug with a sigh, his normally dark jade complexion feels a shade lighter than usual and more than Len’s comfortable with. “You feeling ok?” he asks, moving his chair to Don’s side of the table. He puts an arm around Don's shoulders and without waiting for an answer he presses the back of his hand to Don’s cheek. The teen squirms at the contact but was unable to pull out of his grip.

“Dad, Dad, I'm fine I just didn’t sleep well. I had a bad dream again.”

“Why didn’t you come get me? You could have slept in my bed.”

“You got home late last night, I didn’t want to wake you,” Don says, still trying to twist his head away from Len’s hand.

“I’m the Dad here, Donnie. I’m supposed to worry about you, not the other way around.” But when he’s unable to find anything close to a fever he pulls away. He looks to Danny hoping he’d see something Len missed but the rat shrugs at him.

“Is it still ok to go tutor April today? Please? I’ve been cooped up here all winter.”

Len wants to say no, but sighs at the pleading look Donnie gives him. It had been a longer winter then usual, he didn’t blame his son for needing some space. He was no longer a five year old but he still had a hard time telling him no for no good reason. “Yeah, but if you start feeling sick you come home ok? Or ask Myra to help you home.”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” As Donnie downs his last bit of coffee he stands back up. Len had turned to poke at his breakfast again when he feels Don's arms wrap around his collar bone and rest his cheek on Len’s head. “I love you Dad. Thanks for being obnoxious and worried.”

“Aw. Love you too, silly gecko.” Len pats his arm in reciprocated affection. Donnie grabs his shoulder back and hurries out the front door. “Have fun!” Len calls after him. Only then did he look back to Danny. “He looked pale right?”

“Yeah but honestly it could have been the breakfast,” Mickey says, picking up a disc, “I even felt sick when I saw it.”

“First of all screw you,” Danny points at Mickey with his spatula, “Second of all, if he’s not feeling well he’ll come home. And third of all, next time you all can make your own crespelles.” Danny drops his last disk onto a plate when the shattering of ceramic fills the air. The three thieves blink at each other for a sec before Danny raises up the food slowly to show the plate underneath had been cracked in half from the sheer force of the crepe. With a defeated sigh, Danny drops his spatula. “Ok whose all for throwing these at trees and seeing if they shatter??”

Len and Mickey both raise their hands with a grin.

(#)(#)\/(#)(#)

“Donnie?”

Despite the softness of April’s voice Don jumps so hard his elbow hits the stack of April’s school books. It’s only by his reflexes that they don’t join the rest of April’s dirty clothes on the floor. It takes him a few moments to regather his scattered thoughts before looking to April. ”Did you say something?”

“Yeah, your name, like five times.” His oldest friend peers at him from over her glasses. “Are you sure you’re feeling ok?”

Donnie would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t painfully aware of the migraine that would return if he did. Unfortunately, it had been haunting him ever since he woke up that morning. “For the last time yes. Uncle Danny made breakfast and it's just hurting my stomach. Now, the compound would be 23.6% more effective if you set the witch fire to exactly 129 degrees cinder.” He scribbles on the paper for a few moments before sliding it over to her. April casts him a suspicious look before looking over the paper again.

“If you ever convince your Dad to let you go to school, my Alchemy teacher would cry tears of joy. Again.” She pauses “They cry a lot.”

Don tries to smile but his aching head only allows him a half grin. As April starts adding his notes to hers he reaches for his yunomi of tea, not thirsty so much as needing the warmth for a subtle cold that clings to his skin.

There’s the sound of a door opening downstairs followed by the sound of a woman shrieking and dozens of items hitting the ground. ”A-April dear!!! I could use some help!” calls the unmistakable voice of the Mayor of witch town.

April was already out of her seat. “Coming Mom!” she calls hurrying for the door. “Don’t do my homework Dee!” she calls behind him.

“I would never!” Donnie says [even though he had already been reaching for her note book]. A few years ago he had the brilliant business idea, in lieu of being able to go to school himself, to do students' homework for them for a small [not so small] fee.

Of course before he could even launch his venture his Dad had found out and outright forbade it.

This time he’s unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes. The effect is instantaneous as the lights in the room become painfully saturated. He tries to cover his eyes but his world is already spinning.

It’s the last thing he feels before he blacks out

(#)#(#)

“I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed,” Len says in a tone that can only come from nine years of parenting experience. It does its job on Mickey who’s shoulders bunch up to the sides of his head, and even though Danny is trying to pull off ‘I don’t know how you think you can guilt trip me’ by leaning back in his seat. But it's hard to look innocent when the two of them are covered in mud.

“IT WAS DANNY’S FAULT!!” Mickey shrieks pointing at the rat. “After we knocked over a tree with one of his crepy things he told me that he knew alchemy that would make mud into chocolate and-and-“

Danny’s ‘calm bad boy’ dis option went out the window (which was also broken because of a wayward flying crepelle). “Who the hell raised you to be a snitch?!” the rat hisses.

“You did!! I learned it from watching you!”

The rat opens his mouth to argue before thinking. “Ok fine but I always taught you to get paid first.”

Len slaps a hand down his face. Normally he and Danny have reversed roles but he should have recognized that wild look in the rats eyes when Mickey was using one of the leftover crepelles as a tool sharpener. But Len, forgetting they were not in fact grown men but children pretending to be adults, had left them to their own devices.

There is a knocking on the door that makes Len sigh again. ”I have a fourteen year old and he has more common sense than you two.” He says in a way that is probably supposed to make them feel ashamed, but Mickey snorts loudly with his flippers over his mouth.

He opens the door to a flash of light that forces him to cover his eyes for a moment before his eyes adjust to the familiar form of the mayor of Witch Town. “Myrah?” He rubs at his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“I need you to come get Doniel, he has a fever and passed out while tutoring April.”

Len felt as though a cold chill had passed through his body, it was the only reason he hesitated. “Y-yeah just give me a sec.” He ducks back into the house, where Danny is already waiting.

”Len what’s-“

“Donnie passed out, I need you to come with me,” already the air of lighthearted teasing and jabs went out the window. Len is back down the stairs with a quilt from Donnie’s bed as Danny is grabbing his coat and tossing Len his. He almost feels bad for Mickey who can only watch on as the two exit. Myra waves her wand, the bright light from earlier returns, creating a portal in front of them. Len barely waits for the portal to form before stepping through. A moment later he is standing in the familiar oversized living room. He had been to the witch family house many times and each time was always surprised how disproportionate all the furniture was, (which made sense considering how tall Amaranth was).

The child in question was lying on the bright pink sofa under a thick blanket. There was a washcloth hovering over his head, every few seconds wiping at his brow. April looks at them when they enter with panic in her eyes. “I don’t know what happened Lenny, I went to help mom with groceries and-and when I came back-“

“Its ok April, it's not your fault.” Len takes her place by Donnie. His son's brow is furrowed underneath a layer of perspiration. Even though he already knows the answer, he presses the back of his hand on Don’s brow. His already racing heart is now beating so fast it almost hurts in his chest. He replaces the blanket Myra had given him with the one he had brought, wrapping him up in it before scooping him up into his arms.

“I’m sorry Len, if Amaranth had been here she could help but...” her fingers tap together anxiously as she watches the child in his arms. Len was always touched by how much Myra and Amaranth cared for Donnie. He never felt the need to have a partner (though he and Donnie both made enough ‘mom’ jokes about Danny to last a lifetime) it warmed his heart to know someone outside his family loved Donnie almost as much as he did.

“I know, thank you.” He moves past the mayor to where the portal was and in another flash he's back in front of his house where Danny is waiting. The rat reaches out and takes him around the shoulders and herds him inside. “He’s burning up Danny, I-I don’t know what happened, I felt his forehead his morning and he was fine, you saw me do it.”

“I know, I know.” Even though Danny claimed that he didn’t remember any of his medical training he’s already looking over Donnie. Trained eyes looking for anything that could tell him what was wrong. After a few moments Danny says to Len, “Get him into bed I’ll be there in a sec-“

“Ah-shouldn’t we put in him some ice?”

“No, the last time we tried that he almost went into shock before I stepped in. He’s a turtle, he can’t handle it.”

“I-I know.” Len unconsciously cradles Donnie closer to his chest protectively. He could still remember the terror of the time when Donnie got the Fall Flu and had a fever that burned his hand. They had gotten so desolate they had put him in a tub of ice to combat it. They had thought it was working until Don had fallen into a deathlike stillness. It was only then Danny had realized Donnie was going into shock and pulled him out so quickly they had knocked over their makeshift tub.

Now Len couldn’t tell if the shivers he was feeling were from Donnie’s sleeping form or from his own fear. Not until Danny put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to look into his eyes. “Can you get him to bed please? I’m going to mix together some medicine that Amaranth taught me and I’ll be right there, ok?”

Len nods “Ok, ok.” He lowers his cheek onto Don’s scalp as he carries him upstairs. It's only when the parent and child are out of sight does Danny let out a shaky sigh, running a hand over his scalp under his hat and forcing himself to calm down. He had never realized how much he depended on Len keeping a calm head. He hadn’t realized just how much he depended on that til they brought Donnie in. During missions Len had an eerie calm about him that he thrived off of. But it was moments when anything threatened the health or happiness of his child that threw Len in the deep end and forced Danny to step in.

“Mickey,” he says without looking behind him, knowing the poor eel was fluttering around not knowing what to do. “Will you please go upstairs and keep Len calm? Help him how you can til I get there.”

“Y-yeah ok.” The eel hurried to do as he was told. In that moment Danny allowed himself one more sigh before reaching under the cabinet and pulling up an old beaten box, filled with herbs and remedies he had swiped from houses over the years. He pulls out a notebook he had filled with some of Amaranth's recipients and pulls out a mortar bowl and pestle. Picking through a few jars of tiny shards and grinding them together before taking out an empty incense holder and pouring it inside. He made sure to secure the lid and take up the glass bottle under his arm before hurrying up the stairs.

A part of him had been scared that Len’s own fears would drive him to ignore his warning about the ice, but he entered Don's room just as Len was pulling a blanket over him. “Good job.” Danny moves past him to kneel by the bed, turning and handing the incense to Mickey. “Can you light this please? It’ll help clear the bacteria out of his lungs.” As he was twisting open the glass bottle he heard Mickey spark behind him before the smell of lavender filled the air (he ignored Mickey gagging behind him). He tips the tip of the bottle to test how much liquid was inside. Luckily, they still had enough for Donnie (he’d have to steal more later). He dabs his thumb with the light pink liquid before running it across Don’s burning forehead. ”There.”

“Is he ok?”

Danny had to commend Len on not asking him a million questions. He reaches back and pats his old friend on the knee. “The Willow Extract should help take his fever down, but if It doesn’t help in a few hours we’ll go to witch town.” He doesn’t get a response, but when he turns to look at him, he sees Len staring at his son. His dark eyes full of concern and fear that only a father could have. Danny stands up and steps back. “Len why don’t you sit with him for a bit, and I’ll make you some tea.” He makes eye contact with Mickey and jerks his head towards the door. After taking a moment to pat Len on the shoulder he follows him out the door.

Len finally lets his face drop into his hands with a shaky breath before the sound of a weak cough reaches him. When he looks up again he was filled with relief to be looking into Donnie’s feverish dark pink eyes. “Hey,” says a weak voice.

“Hey baby boy,” Len sits up on the edge of his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like someone tried to kill me with one of Uncle Danny’s devil pancakes.” He barely has enough wind to finish his sentence before he has to gasp for air. “Will you sit with me please?”

Len can't help but smile, holding the side of Don’s face with his hand for a moment before climbing over him and laying on his other side. Don turns his head and tucks his head underneath Lens chin. “I’m s’rry,” Don mumbles, “I-I didn’t know I was sick.”

“I know you didn’t, you’re not a good liar remember?” Len lowers his cheek onto his scalp. “You get that from your Uncle Mickey.”

“And you?”

“Nah, I’m a great liar,” he smirks down at Donnie, “I’m not going to teach you how to lie though until you turn eighteen,” he pauses, “Hundred.”

Donnie lets out a laugh that sounds more like a raspy balloon, but Len can tell he’s trying not to fall asleep again. He rubs Don’s arm over his blanket. “Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” The teen gives a nod of acknowledgement before rolling towards him. A few moments later he's fast asleep again, breathing easier than he had been a few minutes ago.