#NOW IT'S JUST THE BOOKMARKS FOLDER LEFT

[dragons-hoard-of-fandoms]

One of those "your soulmate's first words to you are written on your wrist" AUs where Uzi constantly wonders why she's gonna slap her soulmate when she finds them and N is confused by the concept of someone wanting to be bitten.

[jasminerva]

heya, jas~

i have been rereading sakadays, and nagumo's hair looks longer in the early art style compared to the recent one. ever since then, i can't stop thinking about how nagumo would come to us for help in cutting his hair. the bonus comic where rion cut his hair didn't help either haha. he would use it as an excuse to spend time together with us too, and make up lies like 'i don't feel like going to the salon. too noisy there!' when asked why he didn't go to a salon instead.

for him, it could be one of the rare times where he feels more ease. he would chat (and teasing) with you, but i like to imagine him staying silent most of the time to enjoy the rare times he gets to feel peace and safe in your hands. it's just you, him, and the sound of scissors snipping his hair in the background. even if you mess up his hair a little, he wouldn't mind haha.

(constantly adding these longer-haired Nagumo arts: 2dyongamja, ssaw, kuroiisana, nano099, BByo_chick)

Yo, Memi~!

It certainly does!!! That's why in ch4 Tenju's comment about how he should get a haircut was a bit of an easter egg XD Maybe he cleaned it up after that huehuehue~

I love rereading SakaDays haha I have a bookmarks folder of all the chapters where Nagumo appears 🙈 FOR RESEARCH! I SWEAR!!!

Omg that bonus / extra was so cute. And showcases how petty Nagumo can be. I can picture it now during their early JCC days.

Thank you for sharing that idea! I loved it so much I wrote something on the fly~

(P.S. I don't know anything about cutting hair. The most I've ever done was cut my own bangs -- badly -- so now I've grown them out lmao.)

Want more? Check out my SakaDays Masterlist!

Comments, reblogs, tags appeachiated~! 🍑

You: A haircut? Didn't Akao give you one a while back? Nagumo: Come on, [f/n]-chan! I need someone more delicate. You: Oh? I see now. You'd rather risk getting your ear cut off than talked off. Nagumo: Ha! You got me there. You: If you want delicate, Tenju's really good. She does all my hair-- Nagumo: No, thanks. With me, I guarantee she'll 'miss' and cut off my head instead. You: Fair enough. (sighs) Fine, what's in it for me though? Nagumo: Brownie points! You: Pass. Nagumo: (pouts) All right, then... a favour! I'll owe you anything! Within reason. You: (narrows eyes) Deal. "Finally, a peaceful haircut," Nagumo muttered under his breath, his body visibly relaxing as your fingers threaded through his hair, the contrasting warmth sending pleasant shivers down his spine. He closed his eyes, leaning back slightly into the chair, allowing you full access. A small sigh escaped Nagumo's lips as he felt your hands working through his hair, the soft snipping of scissors adding to the tranquil atmosphere. He opened his eyes halfway, watching your reflection in the mirror. The sight of your focused expression and the seriousness in your eyes as you concentrated on the task at literal hand stirred something deep within him. As you continued snipping away at his hair, he couldn't resist the urge to tease you. He reached out, his fingers trailing along your wrist. Nagumo retracted his touch as swiftly as he had initiated it, feigning innocence when you shot him a glare through the mirror. Nagumo: (smirks) Careful there, don't wanna end up with bald spots now. You: Don't tempt me. Inwardly, he appreciated that you weren't tempted, instead enjoying the delicate touch of your fingers against his scalp as you worked meticulously.

End note: Can't guarantee how the hair looked afterwards, nor what the favour you end up cashing in is about. It's all up to your...

/ P.S. thanks to @dearsecretlover - I imagine / personally like to think that you / the Reader just left Nagumo's hair out in the wilderness of the JCC campus so birds could make a nest out of it.

Sustainability FTW!

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Violence, graphic violence, blood, fighting, human trafficking, mentions of abuse, drug use, child abuse, sex trafficking, angst. So much angst.

MINORS DNI: I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Whew! I'm proud of this one! Many thanks to my bestest friend, Artemis, who himself has DID and helps me understand this condition and describe them (hopefully) more accurately! His system is a big help in me learning more about this subject! (Extra note: any Spanish spoken in this fic is in italics. As I am not a fluent speaker by any means, it is mostly translated by Google. Have fun!)

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Chapter 2:

Inside Voices

(Steven, no…) Marc's voice groaned out, glaring at him through the shared reflection in the glass door.

"But Marc! I've lived here for ages and didn't know this shop was here!" Steven beamed, smiling widely. Thankfully the wireless headphones he had on made him look like he was on the phone, and not completely off his rocker…

Marc ran his hands through his curly black hair. (You have enough books!)

"But this store might have books I don't have!" He pointed out.

(Just let him look, hermano.) Jake sighed, his reflection staring up at Steven from a puddle on the ground.

"Yes, thank you, Jake. At least somebody encourages my hobby!" Steven huffed indignantly at Marc.

(Jake, stop babying him!)

(Hey, nothing wrong with having a hobby?) The man snorted.

Marc rolled his eyes and slumped his shoulders, he directed a tired glare back at Steven.

(You gonna go in or just stare at the front door?) He finally asked.

Steven grinned like an excited boy going into a candy shop.

Marc really needed to have a talk with Jake about this. Steven already had too many books in their flat!

Steven pulled the headphones out of his ears and shoved them in his pocket as he opened the door, nearly jumping when the bell dinged.

He looked around, rather impressed with how much was inside a small space. Steven almost jumped again when the clerk spoke.

"Hi! Welcome to Here Today Books!" She said cheerfully.

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(I'm just saying, Steven… that's too many fucking books.) Marc said, crossing his arms at Steven through the reflection in the window across from his desk, cluttered with papers, folders, and books on various subjects of the Egyptian religious pantheon, architecture, etcetera.

"Oh, hush." Steven hummed, pushing his glasses up his nose as he examined the pages on one of the old books he held in his hand.

(Steven…) Marc sighed, exasperatedly. 

"I know, I know." He sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The stubble there was getting rather coarse. Maybe he could talk Jake out of growing that mustache or goatee he was thinking about…

Steven looked over and picked up the bookmark, sighing deeply as he looked at the gold-tipped rose sealed so lovingly in the plastic. Small vine-luke designs had been penned into the colorful sheet of paper inside the plastic as well.

(Very Beauty and The Beast, no?) Jake mused, his reflection from the mirror on the desk looking at Steven with a cocky grin.

It helped them, they found, to have as many reflective surfaces as possible in their flat; it enabled them to talk to each other simultaneously and "see" one another. Sure they could all talk in the headspace, and when they co-fronted it was almost like they could feel each other; rubbing shoulders, as it were, but sometimes you just needed to see the other person, y'know? Outside of your own head? Shared head? The terms still confused poor Steven, at times.

"I s'pose." He hummed, holding the plastic in his fingers gently, as if it were made of the thinnest glass. Absentmindedly, he pulled the sleeve of his shirt up and looked at the inside of his left wrist.

A mark was there.

A rose, to be precise.

Sometimes it would look like it was wilting, other times it was blooming and vibrant… other times it was closed, not ready to bloom.

Right now, it was somewhere between wilting and blooming. He wasn't sure what it meant. He thought back to Marc's ex-wife, Layla. And how he practically fell head over heels with her when they first met.

He had hoped, with Layla, that she had a corresponding mark… but she didn't. Layla was one of the few who didn't have a mark, or in the very least it hadn't shown up yet. Which isn't entirely implausible… But… something happened. After escaping the Duat, coming back to life, fighting Ammit… finding out about Jake.

They just drifted apart. The sparks that may have been there snuffed out, any hints at romance gone from the equation. They all decided it was better to leave it at that.

Well, at least they were all still on friendly terms, Steven mused. Layla still spoke to he and Marc via phone, or even email. It took Steven forever to convince Marc to ditch that "old dinosaur piece of plastic" he called a phone, and stick with his touch-screen.

Except… Jake. Ah, Jake. Layla never fully trusted him.

(Steven.) Jake said, getting his attention, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?" He hummed, turning the bookmark over and over in his hand thoughtfully, eyes fluttering back to their mark on their wrist.

(It's my turn tonight.) Jake reminded him softly.

"Oh… right." He cringed. "Bollocks, I hate this…"

(I know, hermanito. But it has to be done, or the bad guys roam free…)

"All right, just… don't let me see any of it, yeah?" Steven sighed, placing the bookmark on the table as he put his hands in his lap.

(Of course.) Jake replied.

Marc stayed silent.

Suddenly, eyes flew closed, the jaw clenched; a bit of a sharp pain fluttered briefly through the brain at the sudden switching. They were getting better at seamless transitions, but sometimes some form of discomfort lingered. The body sat, almost like an empty vessel waiting to be filled. Whether it was five minutes or five seconds, it was unsure. 

When the eyes opened again…

Jake was sitting where Steven sat. Steven's reflection wasn't in the mirror as Jake's had been, previously. He was left alone with Marc staring at him from the inky-black reflection in the window.

(I really hate that we have to do that to him.) Marc sighed, shaking his head.

"He's too gentle for our work, Marc." Jake said, clicking his tongue as he stood, walking over to the wardrobe in the corner and reaching out to grab his old leather coat. "He's too… good."

(I know.) Marc's reflection was in the fishtank now, where Gus the Second was swimming alongside… they really should think of a name for the other two.

Jake tugged the old worn garment on and pulled the gloves out of his jacket pockets with a sharp yank, flexing his fingers as they filled out the soft, well broken-in leather. Lastly, he pulled out that golf cap and slid it on his head, and looked at Marc.

(You don't have to see this, either, Marc.) He said to him.

(Somebody's gotta bear the weight with you, brother.) Marc said intently.

"Gracias por eso, hermano." Jake mumbled, twirling the flat's keys in his fingers as he walked to the front door.

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He sat, kneeling on the rooftop, his body hunched in a way that made him look like a gargoyle, unflinching and unmoving in his gaze; the cape gifted to him flared out almost like a long, tattered set of broken wings.

He wasn’t sure why he decided here of all places was a good place to talk. Why here? What drew him here? Was it the lingering joy and comfort Steven felt when he came in earlier that day?

The sign was hand-painted and in need of a new coat. Flecks of it had chipped away, the exposed wood beneath bleached by years of exposure. But… why was the bookshop important enough to stand outside now?

He looked down below, the curtains were pulled back still in the flat above, old lightbulbs casting a soft, orangish glow to everything inside. He could barely see from this vantage point across the street the boxes of books and book stacks lying on a desk in front of the window. Small knick knacks lined the sills, a hanging plant pot on the outside containing flowers of different kinds, slightly wilted from the lack of sun from the past few days, and now the night.

He stirred when he watched the young woman inside walk to the window in the living room and close the curtains; then tracked her movements as she went about her nightly rituals.

She seemed relaxed. Comfortable. Safe.

She didn't need protection tonight.

He felt the air chill around him, seeping through the wrappings of his armor.

“Jake Lockley.”

There it was. The voice he was waiting for. The voice that always knocked him away from his personal thoughts. The voice that told him of his duties during the night.

Khonshu.

“Yes, father?” Jake asked, standing up, turning to see the large imposing silhouette of a gaunt man, enshrouded in ancient, wispy linen wraps, a tattered shawl hanging from his bony shoulders, clenched in his fist; in place of a head was the dessicated and fleshless bone of a bird skull, small web-like tendrils wafting about here or there. Large, eyeless sockets fixed him in a crushing gaze, the skull tilting in an almost inquisitive manner.

(I wish you’d stop calling him that…) Marc grumbled from within. 

“Have you located the evil-doers I sent you after?” Khonshu’s ancient and ethereal voice grated out.

“Yes. I plan on taking them out tonight.” Jake replied dutifully.

Khonshu tilted his head at Jake, and stood from where he sat on the aircon unit. “Now… Why are you here? This is not where you usually prefer to speak with me.”

“I… don’t know.” Jake admitted softly. “Felt like I had to be here.” 

“Hmm.” The god hummed, stopping to stand next to Jake, looking down at the flat below. “Indeed.”

“Was there… anything else, father?” Jake asked, looking up at him.

“No. You can leave. I will issue new orders when our quarry is dead and dealt with.”

“Of course.” Jake bowed his head, pressing his fist over the moon on his chest; sparing one last glance down at the woman before walking away, leaping to another rooftop with superhuman strength.

Khonshu stayed. Observing, just for a moment longer, at the woman inside the safety of her home. 

“Interesting.” He mused to himself, stamping his staff down and vanishing in a haze of mist.

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Jake panted, pulling one of his darts out of the chest of the man who had tried to previously shoot him just now. He sheathed the weapon and approached the shipping container, hesitating for a moment before smashing the lock open with his bare fist and hauling the heavy doors open.

Inside were half a dozen women and young girls, and children. Some of them naked, others half-dressed. Many of them were dirty and half starved, injuries evident on their poor bodies.

He noticed how they all flinched, backing away from him.

“I won’t hurt you.” He said, in a tone as soft as he could possibly manage, trying to ease their worries. “I’m here to save you.” 

Jake leaned down and pulled the jacket off the dead body of the man he had just killed, stepping over the corpse to the young woman nearest to him. 

She was clad only in her underwear, bruises and track marks lining her body. He draped the jacket over her shoulders, zipping it closed for her as he guided her arms through the sleeves. 

“The police are on their way. You’ll all be safe, soon.” He said, his glowing white eyes fixed in the black abyss of his mask immediately zeroed in on three women, clinging their arms around a group of small children.

The youngest couldn’t have been older than three years old. Her eyes cold, far too ancient and haunted for one so young, clouded by the things she’d been forced to endure for the profit of her traffickers; her tiny body already bearing the scars of the abuse and trauma. Jake’s fist balled at his sides as he forced his breathing to try and calm; adrenaline surging through him again, a hot coal of rage dropping deep into the pit of his stomach.

He wished he could kill them all over again. He wished he could make them all suffer in ways they could barely process for the things they’d done. He wanted to–

His cloak was tugged on, snapping him out of his seething.

He looked down, and a small boy, all skin and bones looked up at him. He looked to be about seven. Could be older, as malnourishment can inhibit growth. His big green eyes looked up at Jake as he wrapped the edge of his cloak around his shoulders like a blanket, his dirty and grimy fingers clinging to the blood-soaked material, seeking comfort he so desperately needed. Jake felt his heart crack in two. He looked almost like...

He closed his eyes for a moment and kneeled, getting as eye level with the boy as he could.

“You’re safe now. They can’t hurt you anymore.” Jake said, his voice quiet, almost broken. He reached for a ratty blanket on the ground and covered the little boy with it, the sight of him covered in a bloody cape almost too much for him to bear. 

He felt his breathing hitch when the little boy smiled up at him, gap-toothed and happy. He handed the boy off to a woman who looked to only be maybe nineteen.

“Stay…” He cleared his throat, looking at everyone within the container, standing back to his full imposing height. 

“Stay here while I make sure it’s safe and I got them all. Someone will be here soon to get you all out of here.”

“Thank you.” One of the women sobbed quietly, clutching onto what looked to be her own child. They looked too similar for them to be anything but related.

Jake turned, his cape flowing out behind him like a white shadow as he stalked into the warehouse beyond, his fists already tight; the spiked knuckles on the back of his hands ready for blows he was all too eager to deliver.

He stepped over bodies, beaten, broken. Lifeless. 

All at his hand. They deserved worse.

The eerie quiet of the cavernous space was only interrupted by the tinkling of chains suspended from the rafters, wind whistling through unseen cracks. 

He could hear the sirens in the distance closing in, but he didn’t relax. He wouldn’t. Not until he was sure.

Not until he knew they were all dead.

Jake’s hands trembled with anticipation as that coal of rage ignited into an inferno, burning hot and low in his belly, sending sparks through his bloodstream. He was so far into that haze of red, he missed the man rushing him with a kabar knife. 

He must have missed that one, the coward was probably hiding the moment the carnage broke out.

The moment he turned, he felt the blade slip easily through the wrappings of his dark armor, piercing the flesh and organs beneath, the pain tearing through his body like a macabre tsunami.

He brought his fist out, slamming the spiked knuckles into the face of the man.

The coppery scent of blood, the crunch of bones and cartilage filled his nose and were deafeningly loud in his ears. He was sure he watched his eyeball dislodge, hanging over the crushed and bloody expanse of his cheek as his body was sent flying into the cargo loader nearby.

The sound of his bones turning almost to powder overpowered the haunting ambience of the dark lair.

Jake marched over to him and gripped him by the shirt, rearing his fist back for another punch, even as his body hung limp in his grasp. 

Only… he couldn’t land the blow. He just couldn’t. It was one thing to kill to protect. But it was another to beat a corpse that he’d already wrought with one blow. His ears picked up the sounds of shouting, sirens, bootfall. A helicopter whirred above, spotlight shining at the carnage below.

He stood, clutching at the knife still sticking out of his side as he dragged his feet, pulling the shell of his body outside, where he was met with armored police officers, wearing what he assumed was some kind of riot gear. The pain in his side was maddening, he almost didn’t hear them demand he kneel. But he did hear a woman cry.

He lifted his gaze to see the woman he’d handed the boy off to; the child still clutched in her arms as they looked over at him, their eyes locking with his.

“He saved us!” She cried.

“Don’t hurt him, please!” Another shouted.

“He’s a nice man!” A child sobbed, clinging to the emergency blanket around her frail body.

Jake felt like he could cry, he felt his heart swell to bursting; not able to tear his gaze away from the innocents he’d saved, that he killed for. Not even when one of the officers approached him, gripping his elbow to keep him steady.

The older man sighed, unable to cuff the man that the human trafficking victims were shouting and crying accolades for. Even if he apparently killed all these monsters bare-handed. “Come on, lad. Let’s get you looked at. We can’t leave that knife in ya.” 

“I’m fine.” Jake mumbled, looking at the ground. His shoulders slumped.

“Like hell you are.” The officer turned and shouted for a medic.

“Perdóname, mi corazón." Jake muttered to himself. To someone else.

But as the man carrying the equipment bag jogged towards him, Jake gripped the handle of the knife and wrenched it free in one tug, blood spurting from the wound.

“Good God!” The officer gasped, reaching out to press his hand over the gushing wound. “Are you insane, boy?”

“Yes.” Jake mumbled, pulling his hand away from him, with gentle care that betrayed the violence his bloody fingers had wrought mere moments ago. He felt the wound close, the magic and blessed armor already performing its duty. Just as he had, so violently.

Jake straightened his posture as the medic and the officers backed away in a strange mixture of fascination, horror, and awe.

“Who… what are you?” The medic breathed.

Jake turned away, his gaze to the sky.

“I’m Moon Knight.”

And with that final goodbye, he leapt up, disappearing into the blackness and depths of the night, his heart heavy but relieved, cloak streaking across the shadows, as if to chase them away.

Chapter 3: Link

[the-wiggler]

If I could stay here, under your idle caress

Ellis tries to cook and plan fails successfully? 

word count: 2.2k

“My love?” A tentative voice calls into the dark room, curtains drawn. What little light filters through, Ellis can see the mountains of clothes on the floor, the layer of dust and the empty cups covering the room. On the bed in the corner, a mound under the heavy blanket shifts minutely, and their heart aches. “Oh, my Gem,” They coo, sitting on the side of the bed, slowly peeling back the blanket to reveal a sallow face, tired and weighed down, smooshed against the pillow. Ellis leans over and presses a soft kiss to their cheek, a hollow stare darting to them in vague recognition, “How are you, my dear?” 

They groan, shifting to bury their head in Ellis’s middle, quietly inhaling their scent. Their hand moves instinctively to stroke Gem’s hair, grounding repetitive motions as they sit in silence for a few minutes before Ellis breaks it, “Are you hungry? Think you can stomach some food?” 

They go to shake their head, instinctively wanting to remain in their bed despite their aching back and stiff legs. Then they register the slow acidic burn spread from their core and absently wonders when they last had a proper meal. “Yeah-could gof’r something.” Stringing together words with what little threads of energy they could muster, their voice hoarse from disuse. 

“Ok,” Ellis smiles, one last comforting stroke of their hair before they pull away, “I’ll get you something to eat, you try your best to get out of bed, ok?” They stand and go to pull the blackout curtains open, revealing a second set of thick daytime curtains, and illuminating the room in a soft light. Reaching behind the curtains, they push open the windows, letting the soft breeze and the noises of traffic below waft in. “Take your time, Gem. I’ll be just outside.” They press a gentle kiss on Gem’s forehead before they leave, and Gem misses them already. 

Outside, Ellis wracks their brain thinking what Gem could eat. They remembered the stacks of snack wrappers on the table and an idea flutters into their head, perhaps they could cook something? Sure, their cooking left much to be desired, but Gem had been giving them lessons (though they often ended up making out on the countertops instead). Their cooking “lessons” meant that Ellis could now, under supervision, make scrambled eggs, grilled cheese and pasta. And heat up soup. 

But their Gem deserved a good, warm, fresh meal, and though they had only “helped” Gem out in the kitchen, Ellis was confident they could handle this. They crack open Gem’s laptop, typing in their password (Ellis’s birthday), and pull up the recipe from a bookmark folder called “Cooking for Ellis”.

‘The perfect food for when I’m feeling sick, Oyakodon is a classic comfort food of Japanese home cooking. Simple, delicious, and utterly comforting, this is the kind of one-bowl meal you can cook in less than 30 minutes!’ The chipper description of this Japanese chicken and egg rice bowl had caught Ellis’s eye. Perfect. 

Firstly, the chicken. They rummage through the freezer until they grasped a small container of already-chopped chicken thigh. But it was still frozen, and Ellis didn’t have the time to sit around waiting for it to defrost. 

They sighed, cracking open the frozen block of meat and hacking away at it with a spoon until they had what they figured was a big enough portion for Gem to eat. Then, they slapped that in the microwave, doused it in sake, and let it sit, feeling very proud of themself. Off to a very positive note. 

Next, the onions. They carefully chopped off the ends of the onions, peeling off the crinkly skin and sliding them off to one side of the cutting board. Then they slice the onion in half, feeling the tears prick their eyes and their vision blur. 

A sudden strong gust of wind sends the loose onion skin flying off the counter like leaves in the sky. Ellis curses silently, eyes burning, and rushes to chase after the onion skin now scattered across the kitchen floor. When they finally collected the bits and deposited them into the bin, the tears in their eyes had yet to subside. 

Frustrated, they rub their eyes, forgetting the onion residue still on their hands. As their pain suddenly escalated, they cursed silently, blindly grasping around to find the sink and turn on the tap. Quietly panicking to avoid alerting their partner, Ellis rushes to wash their hands with soap and rinse their eyes, tears running down their face.

Once they had finally cleared the sulfuric acid from their eyes, they found their vision blurred and their nose running. They glance, a bit despondent, at the remaining onion and curse it out quietly. Through tears and sniffles, they finally cut the onion into slices Gem once termed ‘Julienne’. This time, they make sure to thoroughly wash their hands before scrubbing at their face. 

With a renewed sense of enthusiasm, they gaze proudly at the now conquered pile of onions on the chopping board. Despite this minor hiccup, Ellis felt ever optimistic, grabbing a bowl and mixing the liquid seasonings. 

Now, to start the cooking process. Ellis confidently opened the cupboard where Gem kept all their pots and pans. Having lived alone for so long, Gem only had two pans: a larger one for bigger meals when hosting guests, and a smaller one for personal use. Ellis frowned.

The recipe said one small pan should be enough, but…Ellis sent a distrustful look at the accursed mountain of unevenly cut onion pieces and decided to err on the side of caution. They grabbed the larger pan, dumping the onion and seasonings into it. 

The seasoning…barely covered the bottom of the pan, let alone the onions. 

A quick reference back to the recipe…and…yep, the seasonings should cover the onions. They inwardly grumbled at the idea of having yet another thing to wash and grabbed the smaller pan, pouring the sauce into it. Ellis watched as the liquid in the pan rose and rose until it reached the brim of the pan, forming the meniscus. Ok..too little for the big pan but too much for the smaller pan. 

Great. 

They pour the rest of the sauce down the drain, lamenting the wasted food. They move to dump the onions into the sauce, forgetting completely the rule of displacement. As the onions tumbled into the pan, the sauce flooded over the edge, forming a small pool around it. Ellis fights the urge to collapse into a heap on the ground and instead carefully lifts the already full pan up, spilling more sauce. They messily clean up the majority of the mess; the rest could be cleared up after they deliver this absolute guarantee of a good meal to their partner. 

Having lost a decent chunk of motivation (and seasoning) that they started with, Ellis turns on the stove, waiting for the sauce to come to a simmer. placing a lid over the pan and turning their attention to the mountain of dishes in the sink. 

They quietly hummed a song that reminded them of Gem, mind wandering to thoughts of the bright starry eyes of their partner as Ellis served them the perfect Oyakodon. It wasn’t that Ellis was doing this for the thank-you kisses they might receive��but they would be amiss if they said it wasn’t something of a motive. 

So lost in thought was Ellis that they completely forgot about the simmering, bubbling, and now boiling pan of sauce and onions just a few feet from them. It wasn’t until the metallic rattling of the lid against the pan did Ellis snap out of their daydreams and worriedly glanced over. 

The sauce had bubbled out of the pan, adding to the already large puddle. It was currently dripping over the counter down onto the drawers below, no doubt seeping into the cutlery and crockery that Gem kept there. Completely forgetting about the running tap, they grabbed a cloth and went to wipe at the angry mess on the stove, the hot liquid quickly seeping through the cloth and shooting through Ellis’s hands, making them curse loudly. 

The word rang out in the emptiness of the cosy apartment Gem had and they vaguely heard the soft padding of feet approach them before a quiet voice called out. “Ellis? Is- “Yes, my dear,” They quickly interrupt, rushing to intercept their partner at their bedroom door, “Are you feeling well enough to be up? Perhaps you should take a shower, Gem, freshen up.” They clutched their throbbing hand behind their back, chuckling nervously. 

Gem casts a confused look at Ellis. Their eyes dart from the sweat dripping down Ellis’s forehead to the panicked look in their bloodshot eyes and the hand they were not very inconspicuously hiding. They begin taking hesitant steps towards the kitchen despite Ellis’s weak assurances.

“No- don’t gaze upon my shame, please, I’m begging!” They joke weakly as Gem reaches the kitchen, but it was too late. Gem could only stare in silence as Ellis stood behind them, sheepish and awkward morphing into an overwhelming amount of guilt. The last thing Gem needed right now was more things to worry about, to shoulder Ellis’s burdens along with their own. 

“I-I’m sorry, Gem. I know this is the last thing you need; more things to do.” They sigh, “Look, take a shower, and I promise, once you get out, the mess will be gone. I’ll call up your favourite pizza place, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” Ellis tried to redirect their attention away from the mess, hoping to coax Gem away from the mess they had made. 

“Ellis-I-What…what were you trying to cook?” They whisper, a layer of incredulity concealed under genuine curiosity, their eyes fixated on the angrily rattling pan. 

“Well- I was trying to make an Oyakodon, you know, the one you had saved in your laptop?” Their partner nods wordlessly, “But clearly, I seemed to have overestimated my cooking abilities and I…oh. I forgot to make the rice.” They wring their hands together, watching their partner out the corner of their eye, waiting for the outburst. 

After a quiet sigh that seemed to pierce Ellis, Gem moves into the kitchen, slides the pan off the hot surface of the stove and carefully turns the stove off, leaving the liquid to cool. They turn off the running tap before grabbing another, not soaking wet, cloth and carefully lifting the hot pan lid, wincing at the burnt onions and billow of smoke that angrily escapes its confines. They deposit the pan in the sink and grab a bowl, filling it with ice and cold water and gently guiding Ellis’s throbbing hand into it. 

“Gem I- “Rest.” They quietly order, silencing any meek protests on the edge of Ellis’s tongue. They resign to sit at the dining table, hand submerged in the icey water. Silently, they watch Gem move through the kitchen cleaning up the mess, chewing on their lip nervously. 

Gem was always more on the quiet side, opting to save their energy for acts of service that made Ellis want to smother them in kisses. They talked in quiet smiles and averted gazes, a quiet language that Ellis had slowly become a well-learned expert in. But on days where they could barely manage to leave their bed, they resorted to one-word responses, sometimes just a vague nod, even.  

Ellis could tell, in Gem’s tense shoulders, that their disappointment was palpable- tired and exhausted, they still had to clean up after Ellis’s mess. Ellis had meant well, they didn’t doubt that Gem understood that, that they had only intended to provide a warm meal that Gem loved, but intentions meant little when the outcome directly contradicted it. 

“I really am sorry, my Gem. I…never intended to make more work for you.” They sigh, watching their partner move through the kitchen as they were stuck in the chair. They sighed, “But I did. Regardless of my intention, I…I made a right mess of things, and I can’t express my apologies enough.” They suddenly felt silly for ever thinking they could somehow whip up a meal when they could barely scramble an egg without burning something (or someone). 

A rub on Ellis’s cheek drags them out of their inner criticisms. A hand cupped their cheek gently, and they gazed up from where they were seated to stare at Gem’s eyes. In turn, Ellis turns their head to lay a gentle kiss on the palm of Gem’s hand. 

“You did,” They state matter-of-factly, quiet voice barely reaching Ellis’s ears. “But it’s not all bad. You managed to get me out of bed, didn’t you?” 

Ellis blinks slowly, then laughs, surprised. “I…hadn’t even noticed. I suppose it is a silver lining in all of this.” They place an unburnt hand over Gem’s waist, pulling them in and resting their head on their partner's stomach. “You really are too kind to me, my Gem.” 

“Nonsense.” 

[that-was-anticlimactic]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by my beloved @zukkaoru & @lesmiserablol <333

tagging (with no pressure): @beachytablecloth, @fabro-de-omres, & @milf-harrington (so sorry if you've already been tagged!)

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

69 which... is honestly more than i was expecting? i think it helps that my goal is to post a fic once a month mostly bc that's my motivation to keep writing even when i'm busy/stressed!

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

396,183 - omg i am SO CLOSE to 400k ahhhhhhhhh

3. what fandoms do you write for?

uhhhhhhh many??? right now, it's a lot of bsd/bnha, but it's always a plethora of things, haha! my first was prolly ninjago tbh

4. what are your top five fics by kudos?

hey, little songbird, give me a song

you never quite say (but i hear)

lost in love and lost in feelings

Deeper Than Words

for a new world to begin, the old one must fall

okay the #1 for that is honestly so real that is one of my absolute favorite things i've written EVER lol, same with #2! the rest are... idk #4 is AWFUL - like one of my first atla fics and also my first time writing a ts fic (i have gotten SO MUCH BETTER AT IT NOW)

*note: i started this in like nov or early dec, and #5 changed! it was the zukka goose fic but now it's actually one of my favorites iugytfyhujiko

5. do you respond to comments

i used to be good at it. then i got stressed bc of school. and then i was suddenly like "uhhhh idk How to respond???" i think the thing that got me was i didn't know how to reply to the distressed comments on my sokka falling fic so i just. accidentally stopped.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

oh here in the garden (let's play a game) 100% rip to sokka sorry babes ilysm hate to do it to ya, love the angst tho <333 rip to everyone who missed the major character death tag lol. well... that or a spring and summer song, too brief rip to geto in the +1 oops... oh shoot... it could also be take me where my soul can run... hm...

7. what is the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

this was hard, but imma go with i was a child and she was a child bc it's based on one of my favorite childhood memories! rip to zuko and his ice cream tho :/ but azula is VIBING the whole time oiuygfcgyhuij

8. do you get hate on fics?

not really? i did once have someone try to correct me and say that i wrote sokka with ocd instead of tourette's but it was in the bookmarks and it made me laugh lol. i also got this comment on my kubokai kaidou with ts fic: ".. the self projection is heavy in this one ... -_-" so idk if that counts lol

9. do you write smut? if so, what kind?

nope :)

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

uhhhh not really? i wrote ninjago equestria girls crossover oneshot in middle school but i never finished it and it SUCKED lol

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

not that i know of?

12. what's the longest you've spent working on a fic? and the shortest?

uhhh i wrote a 7,600 word fic in three hours while i had covid? that's prolly the shortest? i count that as shorter than anything i may have finished faster bc i had covid lol but longest? ummmm over a year? multiple years? idkkkkkk the jay with ts fic i posted was something i wrote in 2019 and i edited it (a lot) and posted it in 2022 so??? that maybe?

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

uhhh i did with friends in middle/high school, but those never left the docs! also grace and i have. very many much so aus lol

14. what's your all-time favorite ship? from all fandoms?

RARIJACK!!! it was one of my first hardcore ships, and also was my introduction to queer ships!!! renga is a close second, but rarijack just is really important and special to me for sentimental reasons that put it above renga and others! i am also on a seroroki kick right now. it's not my all-time favorite, but the brain rot seems never ending right now lol

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

GOD SO MANY i have a folder in gdocs just for ninjago fics and there are folders within the folder for different types of wips i'll never finish - i have That many: "no substance", "baby girls", "drafts"... etc...

16. what are your writing strengths?

uhhhhhhhhhh ngl i'm in a place right now where i feel like the answer is Nothing (writer's block has been Bad recently), but i think something i'm good at in a very specific way is making readers feel the discomfort of characters? like idk i've been told that the way i write ts and tics (specifically tic attacks) makes the readers feel uncomfortable in like a "wow i didn't know it felt this way" kind of way??? i like to think i'm good at characterization??? idkkkk

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

ummm setting and scenery & connecting parts of a story, especially if they're parts that i'm stuck on/transitions are prolly my biggest ones???

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

i mean go for it as long as it's respectful and like... you tried making sure it's accurate?

19. first fandom you wrote for?

uhh rainbow fairy/a-z mysteries... but that was like very briefly on paper. first time like... for Realsies was ninjago

20. favorite fic you've written?

oh 100% hey, little songbird, give me a song. it's just really special to me and writing it helped me cope with a new tic i had. but one that i wrote more recently is fantasies i'm not sure that i'm worthy of which is a ritsu-centric fic and is prolly tied as my favorite fic i wrote in 2023. the other one would be sun comes streaming through the window (& i can't sleep anymore) which is my 21k word kenji-centric fic lol but that one is like... i'm more proud of it than anything, which is what puts it up there.

[necromoonstar]

Below is all done by voice to text because I just need to get out of my head and every time I try to type it on my phone it just gets lost on me and I get disoriented and I don't care I want this out I want to finally post this this is my

I don't know if I'll finally go fully through with it but I am currently trying to seriously plan out my own personal website to have just starting with a NeoCities

this is either the third or fourth time I've tried to plan out something for myself but I'm got papers that I'm writing things out on I got a folder full of stuff and documents full of things bookmarks I feel like I might actually finally go through with it this time

Literally all that changed was I realized that having the main place that I hang out at as a "personal space" being a place that has such negative everything and this constant feeling of they could just pull a trigger and delete everything from me on top of realizing just how racist a lot of the community is and wanting to have a safe space to actually explore and talk and post art

The side blog ideas were wonderful for a bit and I genuinely was starting to get a little more active and that's partially why I'm like no I need to finally go all the way and make this website one way or another and then this these blogs can be a secondary space where I can hang out with people more directly but I don't depend on them for being my spot that anyone could just disrupt that I can pack up and move whenever I want

Honestly the idea is so freeing and it feels so fun I have so many ideas for things I want to do once I get this set up like I want to genuinely finally do these topics of discussion I wanted to make posts on like my first thoughts meeting Peter Pan in Kingdom Hearts and what I thought of him and Hooks story. I want to just have fun like in ways I don't feel like I've actually ever felt comfortable doing because I've seen so many people be harmed when they've tried

The only thing is honestly how hard it feels like it is to get started and that's the reason why I keep giving up is the I don't like doing stuff without making ground work but the groundwork is the hard bit but once I have the groundwork I know I'll be away it's just how do I get started

I found a site layout that I really like so at the very least I won't have to do a ton of coding to have a base to post onto but I don't know what way of setting up pages and the actual site map like the site map is one of my biggest confusions on how do I set this up what do I do how do I organize this I like things organize what do I do

Hell what extra pages do I add what pages do I want to do at all what kind of things do you add to a personal website it feels just so much while a regular old blog you just shove things out you have tags and that's about it but everything's just in one place which sucks but but I'm over speaking freaking out just wanting to finally post that hey I experience actually wanting to do fandom stuff and have fun and draw but also I can't yet because I want to feel like I have a safe place to do it

I am so thankful for the friends I've made who also ended up making websites even put this idea in my head originally way back and I'm so happy to even have some friends now even though things have happened off the internet that have made it harder to be as active and interact as much as I'd like

I want nothing more to enjoy the same fandom experience that I hear used to exist on the internet yes that's still included Your flame Wars your ship Wars but it never sounded like it ever got to this degree of politics and also didn't have this degree of Puritan NSFW it feels like

I have media that I cannot wait to touch I have some stuff I have been touching but I've had stuff that I've purposely left on the back burner that I have wanted nothing more than to dive into but I never wanted to touch it until I knew I could be that loudmouth fan that I know I would be if I actually touch them and I want to finally put in the effort to give myself the space to do that

And with that I hope to finally just be free and start to recover

Really the few friends that I have made on here I'm so happy I have and I can't wait to refresh myself and start basically over and be able to interact with you all again and this time actually have fun instead of constantly suppressing my own voice just to make sure that I'm acceptable to this crowd I'm not even trying to appease just I don't want the attention of

Sorry for putting this long thing on your dash but thanks for being around and hanging with me and I can't wait to have happier days to come

I hope you the happiest days you can be and your own Fresh Starts in recoveries whenever you need them may we all have an improvement in a better life, yeah?

[ahhvernin]

Back in middle school and high school, I had an English teacher Ms.C. She often said was I bad reader and my analyzing skills were bad and that my skills of interpreting stories and reading in between the lines were non existent. That the reasons why I liked certain books over others and certain characters were 'wrong' or 'not meant to be liked or supported' and that I just didn't understand the literature at all. I had her for over 3 years. Then one year, in high school, I had a different English teacher, Ms.T. We had an assignment to write an analysis report for one of the books we had read during the year. I went to her, feeling ashamed, and telling her that I did not feel like I could write a good report because the only idea I had couldn't possibly be a good one. She asked me what it was. I told her, I wanted to compare The Secret Life of Bees to Huckleberry Finn, and how the Secret Life of Bees had many comparable themes and that the story was a Huckleberry Finn-esque adventure but with a girl and woman protagonist. She asked me why I didn't think it would be a good analysis. And I told that I always did poorly on reports because I could not interpret stories or understand the author's message correctly or read in between the lines because English was my "second language" even though it was my primary language and that the stories took place in different time periods. And that I had read Huck Finn a year ago and didn't do well on the report because I "missed the themes". Ms. T said "I don't think any of my students have compared those two stories before. Now I'm curious. Why don't you write it. I think it would be interesting to see how you read the two novels. Go ahead and write it. If you need help just let me know." So I wrote it. I don't think I worked so hard on a book report. I don't really remember exactly what I wrote, but I remember filling my books with bookmarks, cutting out strips of lined paper with excerpts and gathering them together on the carpet, this was.. before CTRL+F was in my tool box and before the two books were in digital format. I really wanted to show the parallels and show how each kid left a town with an abusive father, ran away with an adult black companion who were their trusted adult figure, their friend, their parental figure and reservoir of wisdom. How their companionship would have been frowned upon during their time period but were integral to their growth as a kid. I remember reluctantly handing this chunky report in, I had exceeded the page count, I was telling myself that despite all that work and all the pages I had typed out and the cover that I had illustrated because I couldn't find good pictures online, that it wasn't going to get anything higher than a B or C because most of my English reports hovered around B or C in the past. I fretted over the few weeks it took to grade these papers. Then the day came to return the papers, and Ms. T had arranged it so each kid would get in line, find their paper and leave. I could not find my paper. My anxiety flew SKY HIGH even though she said "Perhaps she left in one of her folders. So I waited until everyone else got theirs thinking mine would turn up. It did not and then she called my name and she pulled my paper out from under her notebooks and handed it to me. Then gently and firmly said, "You did a great job. Some spelling and grammar issues, but otherwise it was a great analysis. Don't be afraid to discuss your favorite books or stories okay? Not everyone reads them the same way. Don't let anyone tell you that the way a book impacts you is wrong. Everyone has different life experiences and everyone has different need and wants, that means what they get from a story will be different from one person to the next. Don't be afraid of your next book report, okay? Because your reading skills and writing skills are just fine." I don't think I was ever so happy to see an A.

Because for the first time in English class, I felt like could understand the language and the literature. All because...someone accepted my thoughts and ideas, and didn't tell me I was wrong. Someone who told me that, I was free to apply my thoughts, experience and world knowledge to the things I read. And that growing up as a kid with two clashing cultures, was fine and that I didn't have to think exactly like everyone else around me and I didn't have to feel guilty or stupid for wanting to share my differing thoughts on a subject matter. And most importantly, that it was okay.... to just read to enjoy a book and not have to worry about having to reading it "right".

[tea-the-reconstructor]

hehehehehe new TTRPG just got delivered and oh my gosh it's so pretty

Eat the Reich by Rowan, Rook and Decard is genuinely one of the most stylish looking games I've seen in a hot minute, and while I've yet to have a chance to run a game, I'm obsessed with it nonetheless! The basic premise is that it's 1943, Europe is in flames during the 2nd World War, and you are all a part of a crack squadron of vampires being sent to occupied Paris to do one thing and one thing only; Drink all of Hitler's blood. There's a full list of the stuff I got and my thoughts below the cut.

It arrived in this really cool manila folder, like just look at the detail!! like this alone would be such a neat thing to have sitting on my desk just as a prop, but this is only the beginning

The book itself is nothing short of a masterpiece, and honestly the pictures do not do it justice. The title is done with a really nice glossy finish, the cover has an amazing texture along the bottom and back to give the sensation of dried blood. the inside also folds out!! that little slit in the front is a full piece of art, and it really sells the appearance of peering into a coffin. The style of the entire book is genuinely so crunchy and good and I wanna put it in my mouth-

There's also the bookmark, coin, and patches which, once again, are so stylish and feel so high quality. I've been just stimming with the coin since I got it, the patches are so bright and look so pretty, and the bookmark is just fantastic. Pretty much everything from this is something I'd genuinely wanna get tattooed on me. There is one more thing I got, arguably the most important piece from this entire set...

WE GOT PIN-UPS BABY WOOOOOOOOOO! So the game comes with six characters you can play as (there are options to make your own), and there are associated character sheets within the book, but good golly these got me blushin' up a storm so hard that they can all smell the blood in my cheeks. From left to right, top to bottom, we have: - Cosgrave, a hackney necromancer who's on the run from the undead mafia of East London, crooked, charming, and damn lucky. - Nicole, a resistance guerrilla fighter and demolitions expert. Turned by her girlfriend and packing hella heat, she wants to meet a glorious end in battle. - Iryna, the Old Money occultist and the black sheep of her clan, who provides a significant portion of the funding to F.A.N.G. - Chuck, a whole-ass-real-ass corpse eatin' cowpoke. Genuinely a sweetheart, if you can look past that bit. He's on this mission not just to survive, but to earn freedom after eating a county sherrif and half his deputy. - Astrid, an ex-fighter pilot that was bitten by something in the frozen taiga, now bearing the soul of a wild predator within her. - Flint, the half-human half-bat, all nightmare. He's a cave-dwelling hunter who may or may not talk, possibly because he's just shy. Each of the characters have their own unique traits, abilities and stuff and I wanna kiss them all so bad it's not even funny man they're all so goddamn fine I'd let them drink me dry for just a single chance to feel the sweet nip of their lips against my skin, like being granted by a mere glimpse of heaven while still on earth simply by the hand of some foul creature who has not seen the light of God in far too long for simply doing what they must to survive, just. I need help.

Anyway uh. Eat the Reich is a goddamn beautiful game, thank you Rowan, Rook and Decard for making hot nazi-killing vampires that have not paid rent within my mind despite occupying it since like August of last year.

[megglesthegeek]

hiii, hope you’re well! 💖 honestly i would read any/all of your answers to those fic writer Qs so i’m gonna be a little unhinged and send you a bunch, but feel free to just answer whichever you want!

11, 16, 41, 53, and then 75, 76, and 77 for the Run With You universe! 🥰

Oh, I'm going to answer all of your questions. I'm actually really excited to get asked this many! So thank you! This is super exciting for me.

11 - My three favorite fics right now? Ugh, I have to choose? Really? Alright, this was hard, and I even went through my Ao3 bookmarks to help me pick. In no particular order: -"All's Fair in Love and Serial Killing" by @wyvernquill -"What's in a name" by flawedamythyst -"The Sometimes Wife" by @marveliciousfanace

16 - I'm currently properly nurturing 4, though I have 6 kicking about my head when I feel like it. Because of your later questions, I'm going to admit one of them is in the Run With You verse, a Bill era rewrite with a heavier focus on Rose and Missy's friendship. 41 - Do a reread fics? Sometimes. It really depends for me. A LOT of what I read is a one and done, but there are some that stick in my head and I have to revisit. Maybe it was a scene that was so perfectly written or a plot that hit all the right notes. The three that I picked as my current favorites are actually all ones that have lingered in my head recently. 53 - How do I spend my time with fan fic. This one is really, really hard to be certain, but I'm going to guess it's more a reader. Mostly because while I write a lot, when I have a dry spell (Like now, it's been a minute since I've written) I still read a lot. 75 - What scene took the longest with the Run With You series? I'm going to say it was probably the bit in Until The End when Eleven is telling an unconcious Rose what he and Amy have been up to. I originally was going to rewrite the episodes, but so little changed it felt a bit redundent, so I had to come up with a way to make the changes work withing the verse without just repeating the actual episodes. 76 - Was there a scene that didn't make the cut in the series? YES! Because, waaaaay back when I was tempted to rewrite ALL of Twelve. There was something about reworking Moffat that left me disenchanted for a long time, and when I got back to the series five years later, I just focused on a few key bits from his time with Clara. That said, I have the start of Deep Breathe in a folder that has never seen the light of day. In fact, I even forgot it existed until I went searching to answer this question (I'm a word pack rat, I keep everything). 77 - Two favorite scenes off the top of my head: Rose and the Doctor's Wedding, and the dinner scene in the alternate reality where Rose, Donna, and Tim meet the Eighth Doctor.

[guildtree]

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

21. Could you ever quit writing? Do you ever wish you could? Why or why not?

31. Write a short love letter to your readers.

8. No dialogue. Just fight. Honestly though, I think both could be a fun challenge but pure action would be more interesting to me. You could have a lot of fun setting it up too: maybe it's a scene between animals? Maybe they don't speak the same language? Magic zone of silence? Would be a good test of writing body language and subtext to tell an actual story with nobody spelling it out.

21. I really don't think I could. I've been writing for as long as I can remember; when I got bored in elementary school, I drew terrible comics and then transcribed them into prose. I doodled on my math tests and wrote fanfic into the backs of my English notebooks. Writing, and creativity in general, is a huge part of my life and one of the main things that brings me joy. While I've regretted certain things I've made, I've never regretted having the ability to make them. Giving up "writing" would be giving up a lot more than just words on a page: it's also my ability to string plots together in an interesting way, put ideas into a reader's mind, and make someone feel what I want them to. You're telling me I can't make comics with a plot anymore? I can't tell stories, or set up jokes that make my friends laugh? No way am I giving all that up.

On a slightly darker note, I have actually lost the ability to write prose before, and it was when I was seriously depressed. I couldn't focus enough to write nonfiction and I didn't have the emotional bandwidth for fiction. One of the biggest signs that I was recovering from that was I started writing again, and it helped me heal. Now that I'm in a better place, suddenly stopping writing for no reason would be a sign of something much worse on the horizon, so I really don't want to lose that.

31. Warning: Cheesiness Below

Dear readers,

If you'll give me a moment of your time, I'd like to tell you a story.

When I posted my first piece of writing, I expected silence. I posted a big fic in a smallish fandom while having no preexisting audience. Somehow, despite that, two people left me a total of thirteen comments, which still blows my mind to this day, and it motivated me then to keep posting my writing. I would not be posting things now if it weren't for those two people, and nowadays if not for the many more who regularly read my work.

So thank you to the readers who leave paragraph-long comments and to those who send me two heart emojis. Thank you to those who kudos every work and to those who bookmark only a select few they enjoy. Thank you to those who put their name behind a guest comment, and to those who simply lurk. Thank you fellow authors for providing me ask games and reading my WIPs and posting your own stories, thank you fellow fans for screaming excitedly with me over a game we both enjoy, thank you fellow readers for telling me how my work affected you. Your comments and kudos and keysmashes matter; in fact, they bring me so much joy I have a dedicated email folder full of them. You help keep me writing, and I am so very grateful for all of you.

If you'll keep giving me your time, I'd love to keep telling you stories.

[stewardofningishzida]

Chapter 8: Trial and Error

It was slightly delayed, but there we are! Chapter 8 of the meta fic, straight ahead!

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

*It’s around 2 in the afternoon now and we’re both looking through Laer’s folder and cross-indexing the sources via the internet.  I’ve given Stephen my login info for the university library.  Then, something pops into my head.*

Me (facepalming):  Oh, I’m dumb!  

Stephen (raising an eyebrow):  What?

Me:  To be more effective in our communications and info sharing, you should have a phone!  I’ll be right back.  I’m getting you a rental phone so it’s temporary.  I’ll return it when you’re back in your home universe.  That way, the group can keep you in the loop, offer additional information, and help if something hits the fan.  

Stephen:  Fine.  Sounds reasonable.  I’ll stay here and continue reading.

Me:  Gotcha.  I’ll be back.

*I leave the house, lock it, and jump in the car.  Meanwhile, Stephen cross-checks Laer’s research and comes across a ritual to try.  He reads through it carefully.  After an hour, I’m back and give him his phone.  It has everyone’s contacts on it so he can call or text any of us.*

Stephen:  Thanks…By the way, I found a ritual worth trying in Laer’s papers.  

Me:  Okay…Do you need anything for it or can you simply do it?

Stephen:  It seems that I can just do it.  Some method of “reality shifting”.

Me:  All right.  Let’s see if it works.  If it does, then do you have anything left to say to us?  *I’m hopeful on his behalf.  Though, admittedly, I’m quite sad to potentially see him go.  However, I hide it behind my usual stoic demeanor.  Since he’s desperate to get home, none of us knows how much damage his absence left behind, and he’s been stuck here for almost 2 days; I opt to just let him go as soon as he can.  If he succeeds, I’ll tell the group what happened.  I’m trying to be responsible.*

Stephen (sincere):  Thank you, all of you, for your kindness.  

*I nod.*

Me:  All right.  Let’s see.  In case I can’t say it later; goodbye, Stephen.  It was a pleasure to have you here, even if it was just an accident.  *I smirk slightly to hide my mixed emotions.*  Now, go on.  Shoo.  *I tease a bit.*  

*He curls his lip, amused.  Stephen has some bittersweet feelings on the matter as well.  After all, he didn’t get this kind of recognition in his home universe and these people really do seem to admire him.  However, he needs to get back home and do damage control.  So, he reads the ritual one more time and prepares himself before performing the incantation.  It starts off with absolutely nothing before a few golden sparks appear, but it looks more like a magical short-circuit than anything functional. It ends rather anticlimactically with both of us looking at each other awkwardly.*

Me:  …Erm…Sorry…Are there any more rituals to try in that folder?  Otherwise, you can look through my section of our family library.  It has most of our mythology books, some references on various legends, religious rites from different cultures, and a few occult pieces.  I’m really into mythology, legends, cryptids, philosophy, and studying different cultures on the side despite being a scientist. Though the occult stuff kinda freaks out some of my more superstitious friends.  So, I keep it in my room to avoid bothering them.  I DID mess with a bit of it just to prove a point that this stuff didn’t work to one of my friends before.  Though that’s about it.  I just read about it and occasionally study it because I like tracing the origins of stories.  Maybe one of these books actually has something that’ll work for you?

*Stephen sighs, feeling deflated.*

Stephen:  Okay…Let me finish Laer’s suggestions and then I’ll look through your books.  

*I grab any books that seem appropriate and put them next to him, bookmarking relevant passages.  Stephen tries a different ritual, borrowing some of the crystals from my rock collection in an attempt to channel cosmic energy and magnify his abilities…This doesn’t work either.  At most, it emits a few more sparks and leaves behind a distinctive smell…Something not perceived in our universe before.  It’s similar to ozone, but not quite.  Almost a greasy-feeling scent in the air, yet kind of warm and spicy.  More of a concept than anything concrete.  Unfortunately, I cannot smell thanks to my nasal passages being damaged from some accidents I had in my past.  At one point, a stack of books slips from my arms and I almost fall down the stairs, but the Cloak reacts quickly enough to help me.*

Me (catching my breath):  Thank you, Levi.  I owe you one.  *I gently pet its collar after setting the books down.  It ripples in appreciation before going back to Stephen.*

Stephen:  Are you okay?

Me:  Yeah.

Stephen (scolding out of concern):  Be more careful.  Getting me home isn’t worth a broken neck.

*I look sheepish and sit for a while to put him back at ease.  He tries a few other rituals.  Some have inscriptions/glyphs, others involve more crystals, a couple use meditation, et cetera.  So far, Laer’s folder and my library have been a bust.  It’s getting late.*

Me:  Unfortunately, I have work tomorrow.  Do you want to stay here or come with?

Stephen:  …Despite how little desire I have to be stuck in the car again, the university library may have better material.  I’ll come with you.

Me:  All right.  Do you have any requests or suggestions to be more comfortable?

Stephen:  …Just drive carefully and don’t crash.  *He’s not happy about this, but will do it to access more resources.*

Me:  Okay.  Here’s my login info.  *I hand him a slip of paper with it written down.  He memorizes it and then magically burns it away from between his fingers.  I watch.  Despite the situation, I’m still mesmerized every time he does magic or performs a ritual.  Stephen is mildly amused by this.*

Stephen (teasing):  Easily entertained?  

Me (slightly red, being sarcastic):  Ha ha ha…You’re so very witty.

Stephen:  I like to think so.  By the way, you enabled speech-to-text on my phone, right?  

Me:  Yeah.  You’re good.

*It’s around 11 pm.  I notice the clock.*

Me:  I need to be up by 6 to get to the university by 8.  So, let’s call it a night.

Stephen:  Okay.  I’ll probably get some rest too in a bit.

Me:  Don’t pull an all-nighter.  *I give him a look.*

Stephen:  I won’t.  Good night.

Me:  Good night. 

*I go upstairs to my room for the night.  Meanwhile, Stephen does some more research for a while before eventually going to bed in his guest room.*

***To be continued***

Note: If you spotted the subtle Discworld reference, gold star for you!

Answer for the curious: It was the reference to how magic/traces of magic feel/smell greasy and unlike anything else.

[alsjeblieft-zeg]

110 of 2024

Created by sho33

Look to your left. What do you see?

My husband lol.

Open up your internet bookmarks. What site is the fifth from the top?

KiwiSDR 40 Poland. I use it to track Polish number stations.

Are you wearing shoes?

Not right now.

Close your eyes and type the first letter you hit on the keyboard.

n

Turn on the radio. What song is on?

DCF77. No, it's not a song.

Are there dirty dishes in your kitchen sink?

No, we washed them yesterday. Besides, we never leave the dishes in the sink.

Are you drunk right now?

I'm not even allowed to drink alcohol for health reasons, so nope, I'm not.

Do you have pictures on your refrigerator?

No, only magnets.

If so, what are they of?

N/A.

What color is your underwear?

Black.

Are you on a laptop or a PC?

Laptop. I don't have my own PC anymore.

What are you going to do after you complete this?

Going to another city to pick my stepson up from his football training.

Name two things sitting on your desk.

I don't have a desk.

Are you daydreaming about anything?

Not right now.

Do you remember your dream from last night? What was it about?

My work lol. The train moving platform was chasing me.

Ever had a dream where you were flying?

No, but I had a dream when I was a kid, in which I was floating above the ground.

Are you chatting via IM right now?

Nope. Anyone still uses such services in 2024?

What's your screen name?

The same as my IRL nickname.

Do you use Internet Explorer or Firefox?

Lol does anyone still use IE at all? Anyway, I use Opera.

Did you check your email today?

Yes, a few times. I got an email from the boss of our labour union and three notifications about packages.

Anyone write you?

...what? I don't understand this question.

In your email box, who is the third message from?

Streaming service.

In your Spam/Bulk email folder, what's the first message subject say?

Probably some scammers. I never open such emails, just delete them straight away.

Are you hungry right now?

Not much anymore.

Did you take this survey because you had nothing better to do?

No. I actually have things to do, they're just not that urgent.

[samuelroukin]

blanket plot twist: ghost was the one who made the rule "no soap hole while johnny's in the field" because soap forgor (he's use to the real thang now so he didn't remember making it)

lmao sorry for causing distress. I would appreciate more pits but you're the author so whatever you give us is wonderful

the 600 isn't including my original "read later" folder, second "read later" folder, the "in progress but read later" folder, the fics currently in my downloads, or on ao3 my "read later" bookmarks or the fics I have marked for later. the folders add an extra 450 fics, I haven't actually gone through and changed my bookmark comments to tags, and idk how many I have marked for later. also I consider anything under 20k to be short so. btw yes I am mentally ill

lskjslkjdkjhst lore! that would make sense yeah, the soap would be Beckoning him and soap wouldn't even know how much self restraint was required to lock it tf away

i would appreciate more pits too 😔 lots of room in this fic left, who knows what the future holds (probably not pits tho. busy enough writing weird vampire sex lol)

jesus christ. well at least you won't get bored but i'd be Stressed Out. i have like 10 in my marked for later and i'm already like 'damn i need to get this under control' 💀 which i guess is just different mental illness lmao

[la-principessa-nuova]

My bookmarks are just links to pages for things I need to visit frequently or won’t know how to find next time I suddenly need it in 8 months.

At work this ends up being like 10 favicon-only bookmarks on the toolbar, plus one unnamed folder with some things that I need a text description for and a few nested folders grouping similar things.

On my personal computers, this ends up being like 4-8 favicon-only bookmarks to sites I visit frequently.

The only time I bookmark something as an escalation level beyond tabs is when there’s something I’m reading like a long tutorial or a webcomic and I want to keep track of which page I’m on in a way that will be easier to get back to if my browser window gets closed.

Basically I see bookmarks less as a place to dump a bunch of things I’d like to come back to and more as a bunch of quick links to make getting to my favorite sites faster. Less like a list of people I need to call back and more like speed dial (actually do kids these days know what speed dial is?)

But the tabs are an ADHD hellscape. I just wait until they get so small I can’t deal with them, then wait until I notice, and then I used to mash CTRL+W to close everything except the couple things I remember off the top of my head, but now I use Shift+Click to select a range of tabs and close them out with a single CTRL+W. Were some of them left open for a reason? Probably. Do I care? Not anymore!

"Why all the open tabs just bookmark them" bookmarks are the ADHD graveyard where saved links go to die jeremy

[misocucumber]

2022

I don’t normally do this, but I wanted to take some time to share a little of my year and check out some stats

I only published two fics this year, as opposed to the five I posted last year. But! The two I did publish were multi-chapter fics which is a huge achievement for me since I really struggle writing longer works, I tend to run out of steam halfway.

Last year I wrote 30,265 words and this year I wrote 31,719 which is kind of amazing since I feel like I didn’t write much at all this year.

Thank you to everyone who subscribed, bookmarked and left kudos and comments. So many of you left such thoughtful and kind words and I feel so lucky to have this kind of engagement with my readers. It’s really, really special and I hope to connect with you all even more in 2023.

Now real quick under the cut, I want to talk about some upcoming fics I’m working on to get me pumped for 2023!

1. Finishing Lured Away – I still have three more chapters to go and one is almost finished. I always tend to slow down towards the end as I stop having fun and start thinking about how I’m going to bring it all to a satisfying close

2. A rather explicit sequel to Like a Virgin in which Hiroshi’s hands are tied and Handa has to learn to be the dominant one

3. A slice-of-life fic where Handa looks after Naru while she’s sick and butts heads with her grandfather

4. A sequel to Striking Contrast where Handa and Hiroshi meet each other’s parents and come to terms with their difference in class

5. A rather silly oneshot where Kousuke and Hiroshi go on a date – I love this rarepair and I have been wanting to write more of them for ages

6. A short oneshot where Hiroshi and Handa do an experiment together

7. Another short oneshot where they get stuck in a closet together. This one sounds ridiculous now that I say it aloud

8. Now this one is a bit of a wildcard, Handa and Higashino get cooped up together in Handa’s house with a storm outside. I think you can see where this is going

9. A little one-sided pining oneshot where Handa loses his voice and Hiroshi crushes hard

Not sure if any of these fics will see the light of day, sometimes I’ll write half a fic and then lose interest and scrap it, but in going through my draft folder I was surprised to find that half of the fics mentioned above are almost finished and just need a good edit.

My goal for 2023 is to write more freely, care less and be silly.

Thank you for all your support this year and I hope you’ll keep reading my works in 2023!

[ehronlime]

Ghost Games

(Disclaimer: This is a reworking of an old Twitter thread of mine)

What are your favourite games that only exist as a set of tweets or a screenshot of the notes app?

Or just a PDF download of a Google Doc in your "rpgs" folder with no identifying information that you have no idea how you got in the first place?

Or two long messages in Discord and you have no idea what the designer is up to now since they left all social media?

Or a friend showed you in their notebook once but they said it wasn't ready even though it seemed amazing and now they don't play games much anymore and just give an embarrassed chuckle when you tentatively inquire about the game they were working on?

What's your favourite deleted itch game?

Favourite dead blogs that you still have some pages of rules and game bits saved to your bookmarks?

I've been thinking about the ephemeral nature of games and game texts. Back in August 2021, I was asking around about a game PDF I had saved of a Google Doc I probably found on Reddit or some other forum (I still haven't found out where I got it from!). More than I year ago now, I went to share a link to an itch game page and discovered it was gone.

I think about how a bunch of lyric games that hit me aren't on any kind of "stable" platform like itch.io and are kinda hard to find now. I think about threads of "old treasures" from the early days of tabletop RPG zines, games that weren't digitized, one-off convention games, games that were put online but not in any way that's captured by our current platforms. I think of all the games from early eras that didn't get preserved because they weren't "notable" or made by "notable" people or quoted as inspirations by other "notable" games. I think of how archaeology can only see that which was "valued" to preserve.

I think of how many games that I and my current cohort of designers have made, entries for numerous game jams, that will be thought of in 1, 2, 5, 10 years time.

I was also thinking about game design and the act of playing games as necromancy. Since you can't get other people to re-play or re-experience a game session you had exactly, all you can do is give them some tools to maybe try and re-conjure, resurrect, a similar game.

Games die all the time.

I don't think my answer to this ephemeral nature of games and art productions is just to push for more archiving and permanence (lol sorry archivists and historians), though yeah let's try to do that too. I'm kinda okay that some things get to die and be lost. Their body gone, but their memory and mark on us persevering.

One thing that I keep coming back to is (I think) Brendan Keogh's thoughts on if we want to treat games as art rather than just products, we have to allow for games to be the equivalent of a drawing stuck on a fridge, or a poem written in a greeting card. That feels true to me. That some games can just be for a certain person, time, place.

I want more people to see gamemaking as a practice and art that they can engage with on whatever terms they choose, not just whatever terms "the market dictates". To make games with no thought whether they would be "notable" or remembered. To make games for the sake of having this thing exist, bursting and fading like a firework.

If that comes with the cost of ghosts of games littering our spaces, then so be it.