#Tour the mountains by rail

[urbanchats]

Thrilling Trails: Exploring North Carolina's Charm: Mountain Rail Tours 

[halloweenacara]

all my beasts! my main account is totally full now rip. names & info under the cut

aske - halloween acara, he/they - horror artist & author, kinda the main character. he writes a horror-comedy comic, but his most famous work is a series of intense horror novels published under a pseudonym. he's secretly a huge scaredy-cat & has become very fond of a certain zafara.

flora - mutant aisha, she/her - baker & activist. she runs a little bakery in the haunted woods that only employs other mutants. she's sweet as sugar, but you don't want to be on her bad side. not afraid of anything- in fact, she has a sweet spot for the scariest resident, alder.

fossil - tyrannian elephante, he/him - anthropologist, museum curator, technically undead. he was found in a glacier on the border between tyrannia and terror mountain & revived. now, he has a special interest in tyrannian history, spending more time in the field than behind a desk. he will talk your ear off.

kilroy - steampunk zafara, he/him - a knight from the golden era of meridell- sort of. he was brought to life via a wayward spell from mac, pulling him from the pages of a book of old meridellian tales. he's a little lost, but taking it in stride- besides, he has a cute lil acara to help him out.

pup - toy poogle, they/she - midi musician, streamer, sapient robot. they speak almost exclusively in internet memes and audio clips. she has a vast collection of expression stickers, one for every mood. recently, they've been visiting veknir's workshop every night…

mu - burlap kau, he/they - fiber artist, gardener, ex-scarecrow. he used to live in a farm north of the haunted woods, then took himself off his stick and ran away. he sewed his legs himself, as he didn't have any originally, and has to fix them often. makes a lot of crochet plushies and blankets- stark contrast to the manor's otherwise spooky vibe.

alder - shadow skeith, she/her - groundskeeper. an intense individual, to say the least. she's been with the manor longer than anyone can recall. she mostly keeps to herself- she lives in a small cabin on the edge of the courtyard. she spends her time meticulously cleaning the tombstones, or lurking in the yard in the midst of heavy rain. aske is terrified of her.

rory - chocolate/halloween bori, he/it - some variety of candy-based creature. he only joined the group recently- previously he was known as the thing that howls and roars just past the fence line. he smells like candy corn and hot cocoa- apart from the bones, of course. those smell like death.

maxie - ghost cybunny, she/her - tour guide/scam artist. she offers tours of the manor, even installing a little gift shop in the foyer. most of the 'haunted features' on the tour are fake. even if the others wanted her to leave (frankly, she's a rude, self-serving conwoman), she couldn't- she died in the manor. every time someone asks how she died she gives them a different story.

veknir - speckled grundo, he/him - alien, scientist, engineer. he keeps the manor running- repairing old appliances, fixing broken railing. of course, he did blow up the microwave trying to improve it. he crash-landed in the courtyard while fleeing someone and set up a workshop/lab in the basement. who knows what he gets up to down there? do we want to know?

cake - snot chomby, it/its - slime monster. one of veknir's experiments gone awry- well, it made a new creature, but cake's a rebel. it chose its name after coming to life and immediately raiding vek's lab minifridge. it has a massive sweet tooth- flora is its best friend- and takes its sick axe guitar everywhere (it can't play it)

remy - halloween xweetok, he/they/she - the owner of the october house. the oldest resident (besides kilroy, technically?) and also the hottest (according to remy). if he's not ominously swirling a glass of something red in the study, he's at some club doing drag.

diaveli - halloween ixi, she/they/it - some variety of horrid clown thing. her entire existence is dedicated to tormenting aske and causing problems.

chimaera - lab rat, they/them - they have chronic health issues, but visiting the lab ray and changing their body calms their aches. it also leaves them ravenously hungry and pays fairly well. they also "work" at maxie's gift shop. they sometimes play on pup's streams as a guest.

mac - mutant lenny, he/him - wizard. he spends all his time hidden away in his tower, practicing spells or mixing potions. his hermit-like tendencies are partly because he needs privacy for his evil machinations and party due to crippling social anxiety.

croaksby - candy quiggle, he/him - butler, janitor, etc. a long-suffering servant, croaksby has worked for remy for a long, long time. he does actually enjoy his work- if he gets frustrated with a resident, he can always add a touch of poison to their nightly tea/coffee/borovan- not enough to kill them, of course...

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Song of the Loon

Author: Desirae

Artist: eggchef

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: mentions of past Dean/Lisa

Length: 24438

Warnings: n/a

Tags: Narrator Castiel/Campground owner Dean, strangers to friends to lovers, past family trauma, survivors guilt, substance abuse(not Dean or Cas), Nurturer Dean, Hurt/Comfort, canon typical violence, angst with a happy ending, cabin by the lake fic

Posting Date: October 24, 2024

Summary: Dean Winchester is expecting a quiet, if not awkward, summer. His estranged brother Sammy was coming to visit from California, and all the chores around his lakeside cabin were not enough to distract him from his nerves. That is until an unexpected phone call from Sam’s sponsor, Gabriel, called with a favor: Could Dean put Gabriel’s brother Castiel up for the summer, no questions asked? Audiobook narrator Castiel Novak is exhausted and travel-weary. Fresh off of a book tour, Castiel arrived home to find his longtime online stalker has been to his apartment. At the urging of his brother, Castiel finds himself on a road trip to Angel’s Peak, Maine, where his host, Dean, is as stunning as the mountain view. Although Castiel and Dean feel an immediate connection, Cas is guarded, with emotional baggage he doesn’t want to inflict on his new friend. Will a summer in the wilds of Maine be enough for Dean break through Castiel’s walls and prove that he is worthy of love and protection? 

Excerpt: Castiel or C.J. Krushnic as he was known in the literary world, had spent the last few months doing the convention circuit promoting the latest book in the paranormal series. Very much an introvert, these events pushed Castiel far beyond his comfort zone, but the book series' popularity had made conventions a part of the job. This latest had been his third and he was getting better at sitting up on stage with fellow panelists. Castiel’s heart beat a fast staccato, as he answered questions about what it was like to give voice to characters like The Wesson brothers; his face a stoic mask as Castiel adhered to the requests to read book passages aloud in his distinctive gravelly voice.  He’d gotten through it, but now Castiel was drained and all he wanted was quiet and space.  Peering over the railing, Castiel heard the belligerent bellowing of a taxi driver and the jarring blare of a horn being pressed. Castiel sighed again. He needed to get away. Somewhere quiet, where he could just exist in peace and solitude. Castiel left the balcony, closing the doors behind him. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he dragged his boned tired body across the living room, back through to the bedroom, and into the ensuite bathroom. He set his now empty whiskey glass on the counter with an audible click. Tired blue eyes stared back at him from the mirror above the sink. Frowning, Castiel tore his gaze away from himself and turned on the water, cupping it in his palms before scrubbing it briskly over his stubbled face. His dark hair stood in tufts and he could use a shave, but Castiel just didn't have the energy. Wandering back out into the living room, Castiel absent-mindedly clicked on the television, noting that an old season of Tournament of Champions was playing. He left the cooking show on and grabbed the mail from on top of the suitcase. Slouching back onto his couch, Castiel rifled through the thick stack. It was mostly junk mail plus what looked like a belated birthday card from his older brother Gabriel that said I wish you love, laughter, and ha! Penis. Castiel snorted, fingering the last envelope in his hand. Furrowing his brow, he realized it was blank, save his pen name in a loopy scrawl. That was strange. Nobody had mentioned anyone dropping anything off for him when he picked up his mail at the front desk. Castiel opened the envelope and pulled out a slip of paper. His stomach plummeted unpleasantly as he read the words on the page. The sound of your voice, the way our eyes met, it is inevitable. You belong to me. -HeartsAflame With shaking fingers, Castiel pulled out his phone and quickly tapped on his brother's icon. Gabriel picked up on the first ring.  “Hey, broseph! How was your tour?” Castiel ignored the question. “Gabriel, they found my apartment,” he said, voice audibly shaken. “Sit tight, Cassie. I’m on my way.”

DCBB 2024 Posting Schedule

[knight-a3]

Now we're getting into the realm of OCs. To preface, I was strongly inspired by THIS COMIC. I was also playing with an alternate face design for Random in a couple of these.

Anyway, this is Smokestack!

More below.

I started drawing @mfdragon 's OC, then kept making my own alterations until he became mine. I researched steam-powered locomotives for this y'all. I'll explain in a minute.

Final tidbit of context: I was playing with an alternate design for the Random face, just so it matched the other two a bit more. How I feel about it goes back and forth. I like Random's OG design, but it's just so different from the others that is doesn't quite fit in.

Okay, ramblings and train info dump under the cut. Get ready to learn stuff you never cared about.

So basically, the idea is that an allspark fragment brought some old abandoned steam engine to life. Like in the comic, it used Blitzwing as a blueprint, so Smokestack is the first naturally occurring triple changer. Which also means he doesn't suffer the same mental instability as the previous triple changers, he's just naive in a similar way that Wreck-Gar is. He is neither Decepticon nor Autobot. He's too sweet to be a Con, but he's too loyal to his "Dad" to be an Autobot. He's also full of train facts.

Time for trains info dump! Disclaimer, I'm not at all an expert and I am simplifying.

In the steam era, each locomotive was custom-made, so there weren't any industrial standard models or anything. Different companies had different classing systems at different times. I tried to figure it out once and gave up. Instead, steam engines are categorized by their wheel arrangements. There are leading wheels, driving wheels, and trailing wheels. The driving wheels are the only required ones cuz those are the ones that move it. The leading and trailing wheels are for stabilization and weight distribution. Different arrangements were better for different things, such as freight vs passenger. I don't know the science behind which ones were good at what.

The kind of trains that built the transcontinental railroad were 4-4-0 configurations, commonly called "American Standard" due to their prevalence during the westward expansion. They had two sets(four total) of leading wheels, two sets of driving wheels, and no trailing wheels. Like: <••⊙⊙]▣□□□ They're little guys.

The single most produced type of steam engine was the 2-8-0 "Consolidation". <••⊙⊙⊙⊙]▣□□□□ It was a good multi-purpose design. So I chose to make Smokestack 2-8-0 because it gave me the most wiggle room for when and where I wanted him to originally be manufactured and in service. By making him a random abandoned one, I didn't have to think about what museum pieces could be in the Detroit area (Nobody but me would care, but I got hung up on that for some reason).

Anyway, when he only has one vehicle mode, Smokestack is his original 2-8-0. Once he upgrades to having two alts, he becomes a 4-8-8-4 "Big Boy" <••⊙⊙⊙⊙-⊙⊙⊙⊙••]▣□□□□, which is LARGE. 16 driving wheels, which are at least as tall as a person! The purpose was to have enough power to handle the steep grades in the Rocky Mountains and similarly difficult terrain with heavy loads. These days, rail companies will just hook up multiple diesel engines to the train to get the needed power. There is only one currently functional Big Boy type train, which occasionally does tours. It came by my place on the anniversary of the transcontinental railroad in 2019, but I didn't understand trains enough to properly appreciate it.

Next, I'll be getting into drawing other characters, and making human designs.

[alotofpockets]

A perfect day | Florence Pugh

Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader

Summary: Enjoying a romantic holiday with your girlfriend. [Full request]

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 600

You look up from the book you were reading, to be met with the loving eyes of your girlfriend staring back at you. Her smile warms your heart, “Hi baby.” She reaches her hand over and places it lovingly on your leg, “How’s your book?” You put your bookmark between the pages and place it down beside you. “I love it so far, but not as much as I love you, my love.” You sit up in your lounge chair to kiss her lips. “Would you like to go for that swim now?” Florence eagerly nods. She takes off her dress revealing her two piece bathing suit, you would never get tired of looking at her. “Hm, you’re so pretty, baby.” You strip down to your swim attire as well, and walk to the water hand in hand. 

It was your third day in Italy, you had two busy days exploring the city, seeing so many incredible things, that today you decided to have a relaxing day by the beach. You were truly enjoying this time away from your busy lives, to fully focus on each other and the beautiful surroundings. Florence came to Italy a few times growing up but you had never been. She wanted to show you some of her favorite places. You went on a boat tour, and explored the city on foot. The city was so colorful, and you don’t think you will ever get enough of the beautiful blue ocean. 

After some time in the water, you head back to your lounge chairs. “I made dinner reservations for tonight, I did some research and this restaurant is supposed to have an amazing view from their terrace.” Florence loved her food, which is why most of the time you let her choose where to eat, she always passed it by you first, but today she wanted to keep the details a surprise. “I can’t wait to see it with you.” Florence sits down next to you and leans into your side. You wrap your arms around her and kiss her head. “I’m so happy here with you.” Florence whispers. “Me too, baby.” 

She was right, the view from the restaurant was amazing. You were led to a table near the railings of the terrace, you could see the mountains, the water, and overlooked the whole city. It was perfect. You ordered your food, which was so good, and talked the whole evening. The sun started to set and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of it setting over the water. “This is so beautiful, Flo.” - “Yes, it is.” Florence says with her eyes on you. You turn her way and realize what she just did and laugh, “You flirt. I love you.” Florence sends you a wink before saying, “I love you too.”

After dinner you enjoy a walk along the beach, watching as the sun continues to set. Long after the sun sets, you walk back to your hotel room, the roads lit by the moon. Back at the room you both change into your pajamas and lay down in the bed. You lay your head down on her chest and listen to her heartbeat, while she lazily draws shapes on your back with her fingertips. “Thank you for an incredible day.” You say looking up at her. “Every day with you is an incredible day.” Florence was in a flirty mood today and you were loving every bit of it. You sit up and straddle her waist, leaning in to kiss her passionately. The night was looking to be as perfect as the rest of the day.

💗If you enjoyed this fic, please consider buying me a coffee💗 

[anamelessfool]

𝔓𝔞𝔭𝔞 ℭ𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔬 (1907-1983) and fic!

Reign 1942-1954, Satanic Bishop of New York City (1954-1983)

Everybody needs a mentor, especially delusional people like Young Nihil. So enter Papa Camino, a Papa Emeritus who is heavily influenced by Cab Calloway. (And is wearing an actual Schiaparelli silk tie from the 1950s) Notable Ghouls: Phantom, Dewdrop, Cumulus

The Path (AO3 Link)

GEN Young Nihil & OC Papa, Young Nihil & Family 3K Words

Tags: Mentor Figure, Deal With The Devil, Family Angst, 4 Year Old Primo Is In This One, This is Officially the Most Self Indulgent Fic I've Written and Yes I'm Including the Smut, Alternate History, Ghost Scenes from the Void AU, Ministry Lore and Dramaaaaa

1957, New York City: Bishop Camino always got what he wanted. And he wanted to share what he took from life with everyone he thought hungry enough to work for it. He was also a man who today invited Zero, of all the siblings in his care, to a private meeting in his office.

More Art and the Fic Below the Cut!

1957 New York City

Camino was a man who demanded what he wanted, and created for himself what he was denied. After his wildly successful tour as Papa Emeritus of the Satanic Church of the Void, he brought his expertise, his talent, and his cunning to his new post as the Satanic Bishop of New York City.

After the fourth rejection of his application to join the most prestigious gentlemen’s social club in the city (and it was definitely not because he was a Satanic Anti-Pope) Camino decided to run his own club out of the New York Ministry location. The music was hotter, the skirts were shorter and the booze flowed higher than the runoff in the gutters after a rainstorm.

The New York City chapter of the Satanic Church of the Void soon became less a place of organized worship and more the most chaotic and happening nightclub no one dared talk about in the sunshine. No act was denied, no artistic experiment too bizarre— almost twenty-four hours of the day there would be something to see for everyone. At two PM there could be a poetry reading for moody folks in black turtlenecks. At four PM was a 1920s Big Band Revival stint, six to ten PM Camino himself took command as bandleader. Midnight to two AM was reserved for drag shows. Often at three AM some interpretive dancer could be writhing on stage wrapped in tinfoil wailing about his daddy issues. It was vibrant, sometimes exhausting but never ever boring. Just like the Bishop.

And any high society man caught sneaking in would be promptly hogtied and left out in the alley with the rest of the trash.

Camino always got what he wanted. And he wanted to share what he took from life with everyone he thought hungry enough to work for it. He was also a man who today invited Zero, of all the siblings in his care, to a private meeting in his office.

As Zero sat uneasily in a plush armchair he could pick himself out from the posters and photographs covering the wood-paneled walls of the bishop’s office. He was often in the background— a blur holding a guitar, a trombone, hiding behind a mountain of drums. In six years Zero had become an established character in Camino’s church. He had stopped his rail-hopping life and settled in with a pretty blonde poetess, living just outside earshot of the church turned nightclub with a couple of potted plants and a young son. It surprised him how much he enjoyed the ebb and flow of a domestic existence. But then again, living and working in a place of constant change and noise and life and art is like wandering without ever leaving home.

“Brother Zero, I can hear your knees knocking from over here!” Bishop Camino closed the humidor cabinet and returned to his massive desk with a choice cigar. He winked his eye, his human eye. The Infernal Eye, his gift and his curse from his time as Papa, leered into Zero. It was as icy and silvery as the tools Camino used to delicately trim and light his smoke. “You'd know if you were in trouble! Relax, stay a while! How's junior?”

“Oh, swell, just swell,” said Zero, slowly uncurling himself in his seat.

“I got box seats at the Polo Grounds whenever you two want to see a game,” Camino replied. “Owner of the Giants owes me. Funny how many folks owe me, hm?”

“You're more than generous, all the time.” Zero couldn't help but feel a fondness for the man. “You helped me.”

“Alley cats are hungry, feed ‘em. Keeps the rats away. Now…” Camino noticed the smallest mote of dust on his suit, frowned deeply, and brushed it off. Camino never wore formal vestments outside of Mass, preferring instead a red silk suit with razor-sharp shoulders. Firstly because that was his look during his time as Papa Emeritus, and secondly because there was no one in New York City who would dare tell the bishop otherwise.

“Have you ever thought about the path?” He continued. Bishop Camino leaned back in his leather chair, settling in to a languid taste of his Cuban cigar. “I think you have what it takes to be Papa. Believe me, I know.”

Zero’s eyes widened, his mouth stretching open cartoonishly in shock. “You really think that?”

“Claro. Really. You've played in the house band many a time. You know more instruments than most, and catch on so quick. You're more Ghoul than man sometimes,” Camino chuckled. Zero had indeed performed for a few years in Camino's exclusive club for degenerates, and his saxophone playing was described as “a good start” which was a big compliment coming from the Bishop.

“Times are different. Big bands are out. Five pieces are in. More flexible. Digestible. What with television everywhere now.” Camino nodded. “Jazz clubs are gone, thing of the past. I'm not too proud to admit that.”

“Oh, you got more talent in your little finger than most in their whole body!” Zero piped up. “Don't sell yourself short!”

Camino gave him a wry look. “Hermano, I didn't say anything about that. Of course I'm talented. I'm the most talented motherfucker you ever saw. But times are changing. The Church needs fresh blood. And you'd be perfect for it. You got a face for television!”

Zero looked through the wooden blinds of the window, at the lines of taxis dutifully filing past. A limo turned the corner, its black and silver form sleek amongst the herd of yellow and checkerboard. Zero saw the shining sweep of the Rolls-Royce maiden perched on the hood, bowing low with her steel gossamer cloak frozen forever against the wind. A face for television, Zero thought. He never really had a television, or an actual home to plug any sort of luxury into since leaving Milwaukee, but everyone that did had the potential to see him. To hear his music. To see his face.

“That sounds swell, how would I even start?”

Camino grunted a laugh, his teeth gripping his cigar. From his place behind his massive desk he elegantly poured a finger of amber liquid from a crystal decanter into two equally opulent glasses. “Well, you have to let everyone know your intention. Even when you're not saying a word. Especially then. Your whole body must…vibrate…with that desire.”

Zero took a glass from him, nodding eagerly. “I can do that. I can vibrate with desire!”

“Naturally,” said Camino. “I'll put you in touch with Mother Imperator’s assistant, a em…a Sister Rebecca. She'll help me authorize a transfer and you can move to the heart of the Ministry.”

They clinked glasses, and Zero took a sip. It burned across his throat, tore a hole in his belly. He coughed in surprise, making every attempt to choke as politely as possible. “Move? There's somewhere else?”

“Yes, a few hours drive up north,” Camino replied. His perfectly sculpted thin moustache twitched as he frowned. “And how the hell you choking on that, boy? That's a goddamn forty year.”

Zero mumbled an apology, then felt Camino’s strong hand on his chin, jerking his face upwards for inspection. His hand was surprisingly soft, well manicured. The floral scent of hair oil drifted down from his clothing. The older man smirked, his eyes crinkling as thoughts passed through his mind. The Infernal Eye glared down at Zero from its socket in Camino’s skull, its glow removed from this realm, a separate entity also holding judgement towards him. He could have sworn the steely pinprick of a pupil moved independent from the human eye just across the bridge of the jazz singer’s nose. Zero swallowed. “Face for television,” Camino murmured, and with his other hand took a thoughtful sip of his own glass.

Zero stretched his mouth into a submissive smile. “Maybe.”

Camino gave Zero a rough pat, nearly a slap on the side of his face, and stepped away to pick up his cigar again. “Listen here, I sent my successor up to their headquarters, had them start meeting people, gather friends— boom! They're now Papa Emeritus and gaining traction in the charts every day. The trick…is to be underfoot.” Camino let out a satisfied puff of smoke. “Thing about that place is that running the Ministry is the only thing anyone can do up there in that godforsaken wilderness. So if you want something you're front and center!”

“But…moving?” Zero had just finally put roots down after a youth of wandering. He thought of Nance, of little Primo waiting for him back at their apartment. Nance with the baby on her lap as she sat by the plants on the fire escape, her red lips smiling contentedly out at the symphony of asphalt and blaring car horns.

“Fresh air, sunshine, forests and mountains,” said Camino. “Kids love it out there. At least I'm pretty certain they do.”

Camino was met with an awkward silence, and he settled into his chair, the leather offering a tired wheeze. “Yes, the city is difficult to leave,” Camino continued, steepling his fingers. He grinned. “Which is why I came back.” And promptly at midnight a town car would pick him up and drive him back to his home in Queens. “But, I've done my time, and did the work. I'm here to guide now. And I think you need to take bigger risks.”

“Nance loves it here. She was born here.” Zero smiled slightly into the middle space. “Primo was born here.”

“It's not easy raising a child in the city, believe me. My sisters complain enough. And me…well, I became a jazz singer.” He chuckled. “That tells you everything you need to know about that.”

“Could be good for junior,” Zero mused.

“Would be good for his old man too,” Camino replied with a wink. “You just say the word. I'm serious about you.”

Horns blared from outside on the street, followed by shouts and curses. The chauffeur of the Rolls-Royce rolled up up his sleeves and unbuttoned his vest as his cap fell on the sidewalk. Across from him, an equally irate taxi driver wrenched himself from the crumpled yellow door of his taxi. A woman was trapped in the back of the Rolls, hanging out the window and screeching while the rat-like dog in her arms barked. The taxi driver jumped across the hood of the limo and delivered a heavy-fisted crack to the chauffeur’s mug that Zero could hear all the way from his spot by the window. He winced as he unconsciously massaged the same place on his jaw. Camino clapped his hand across Zero’s shoulder, laughing, his lips peeled back over sharp white teeth in a roar of amusement. The Infernal Eye shone. “Fresh air and sunshine, hermano!”

-------

“Fresh air, sunshine, forests and mountains,” said Zero as he and Sister Nance held hands on a park bench and watched their young son totter around the steel playground. “Would be good for junior, yanno?”

“This sounds rehearsed,” Nance snorted, flashing him one of her elfin grins. “What's the deal? Why all of a sudden you want to move?”

Zero shrugged. “No deal. Just…need a change, maybe.”

“Zero, dear. Don't even try to lie to me.”

“Bishop Camino… thinks I should be Papa Emeritus.”

“You?” Nance made a face. “You haven't held a single job for more than a year. And you…want to run this whole thing? You want to be Papa?”

Zero frowned back, a little wounded but willing to fight. “None of those gigs were ever that interesting.”

“And you can't just up and walk away from this one,” Nance said. “No session musician or delivery boy or taxi driver ever had to commit his soul.” She tapped the place under her left eye. “Camino and the others…got a piece of their immortal soul committed to the Void. A chunk of it is just…it's just gone.”

That whitened eye of Camino burned in Zero’s brain once more. The sharp-toothed wicked grin, the bone-chilling tension of that pinprick pupil sliding across him and passing judgement. Zero had a face for television, sure— but Camino…Camino’s visage came from someplace else.

Like any blow he's ever taken, Zero shrugged it all off. “Wasn't using my immortal soul much anyway,” he chuckled.

“Goddamit Zero.” Nance crumpled into a fussy search of her coat for her silver cigarette case. He felt the cold air return to the palm of his now abandoned hand as it rested on the park bench.

Primo zoomed over from across the playground, falling into his mother’s arms. Irving Robert, really, but Primo was a better nickname for him than Uno.

“Push me on the swings?” asked their son, grinning under the hat Nance had knitted for him last week.

Nance cupped his face in her hands, smiling sweetly. “In a few minutes, Primo, your father and I are talking. But I bet you know how to do it yourself. We want to watch.”

“Oh, I can!”

“Good, now run! We're watching!” And Primo spun around and raced over to the swings across the park, leaving them for a few precious moments. Nance lit the cigarette in her mouth and took a drag, sighing on the exhale.

“Feels like the only thing that sticks in your brain are bad ideas, Zero,” Nance muttered. “I'm saying that affectionately.”

“You're one of ‘em,” he teased back, and she shoved him with a little laugh.

“Fine. You want to move to the Ministry Headquarters. Work right under Mother Imperator and Papa Emeritus and their whole shitty retinue.”

“And bring you along, of course,” Zero added in an attempt to reassure her. He was glad that she was even considering his idea now.

“I've been up there,” Nance continued. “Not much to do, so siblings get obsessive. I didn't want to stay long.”

“Obsessive?”

“Mother Imperator…” Nance stifled a laugh. “Absolute bag. A good hundred years old, easy. Refuses to speak anything but Italian. There's two siblings waiting for her to drop dead. Any day now, it feels.”

“Oh really now?” Zero mused, half listening.

“Sister Rebecca, for one. She went right to the top as the Dark Mother's Personal Assistant. Fluent in six languages, Italian especially. Comes from a bloodline of senators and government officials. Family's got mob money. She's next in line, for sure. And then there's…” Nance winced, as if an icy wind passed through her. “Maestra Eunice.”

“Oh, she's important?” Zero had seen her from time to time, conversing with Camino. Her hooded eyes, her deep scowl. He remembered her because he thought it a shame when blondes scowled like that. And Camino always looked queasy after their meetings.

“Leader of the Conclave,” Nance explained. “Old, old Ministry family. She's been shuffled around. She doesn't make too many friends.” Nance smiled crookedly. “And Rebecca would easily cut her throat in her sleep if Eunice doesn't get to Rebecca first. It's no good out there. Too heavy while those two wait for old Imperator to croak. You really want to live in the middle of that?”

“Two broads in a spat,” stated Zero. He figured early on that if there were two women left on the entirety of this Earth they still would think the other was talking behind their back.

“One has the keys to the entire global network of our Church, the other the deepest understanding of the magic that comes from the Void,” said Nance. “These are the two broads no one wants to stand in between.”

“Who says I have to stand between ‘em? I can make my music. And that's all I got to do.”

“There's no budging you, is there.”

“Camino…believes in me.” It was the first sincere thing Zero had said in a long while, and it left his heart with a wrenching whine that was carried through into his voice. It held such a sad little timbre that Nance shifted in her seat to look at him. “He believes in what I do.”

Zero knew few people in his life ever put their faith in him. Teachers thought him stupid. Fellow tramps on the road thought he was easy pickings. Not even his own father had much to do with him; his father, who's only belief was in his own ability to pick winning dogs at the track.

“You got to take risks on what you believe,” Zero added as she continued to contemplate his expression.

“But…moving…”

“Six years is the longest I've been in a single place,” announced Zero. He wanted to add “and loved someone”, but the thought felt intrusive and not at all something Nance wanted to hear. She knew his feet got restless if he sat for too long. She had been good to him, good for him, and he owed her his affection.

Nance grabbed his hand, turning his attention to look into her soft brown eyes. “Robert,” she began quietly, and she only used his real name when she wanted him to really listen. “What about your son? Robert…what about me?”

“I want to live my dream,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “And my dream includes you. And Primo. I…I promise I'll do right. You know I always try to do right.”

Nance smiled faintly back. “You always try,” she said quietly. “I can't argue with that. I'm happy…you found someone else who believes in you.”

“Mo-om!” Primo called to them both from his place on the swings, his arms and legs dangling as his body lay across the steel seat.

Nance got up and dropped her smoke to the ground, crushing it underfoot. “Just…give me a few days to think about it."

Zero gave her a thin smile as he watched her cross the playground. He felt he had moved the pieces in the way he wanted them, needed them to move. And he was pretty sure of the rules of the game, so how hard would all of this be? Except he felt a queasiness now instead of relief. The feeling of his words being more of a wager than a sign of honesty hung about his shoulders. He had the faint memory of being on the other side of that conversation. And in those moments what he thought was a promise, was really only a way to buy time.

It would be well worth it in the end, he assured himself. Good ideas always are, and Camino had said himself how much of a good idea Zero was. Zero got to his feet, brushing off his knees as his good-natured smile returned to his face. There was nothing to worry about. He always came out on top. He always pulled through, and folks always leant him a helping hand. And of course he'd always support Nance, and Primo. He promised her and so he owed her. What more is a promise than an IOU to someone else?

Funny how many folks owe me, said Camino as his dead eye flashed. Great men are owed. And Zero was ready to be a lender.

My Fic List | My AO3 | More Domestic Fics

Papa Camino & Dewdrop, Phantom Fic

[noirbriar]

Glorestor: 5 Times They Denied (5)

+ 1 time They Did Not.

From the POVs of the various folks around the 2 elves who are convinced they are courting, or betrothed, even though they were told otherwise.

Take this messy thing that is nearing the end! Here is a short palate cleanser between meals with our favourite hobbit adventurer in retirement waiting to call you out on your BS.

Also one dedicated and spicy part to @tamilhobbit , you will know which one ;)

---

5] Bilbo Baggins

“Curious isn’t it?”

Curious would probably be the last thing Bilbo Baggins would choose to describe the sight before him.

In fact, this is quite possibly the last thing he had expected to see when Lord Elrond called for his sons, the twin young princes of Rivendell, to give him a tour around the Homely House.

The old adventurer has been here enough times to know his way around.Though Bilbo really thinks the Lord is simply trying to take the opportunity to keep his sons out of certain mischief. If that playful glint in their eyes are anything to go by. He has seen that bright glint in far, far, far too many young fauntlings and Frodo with his cousins to miss that look.

Retirement now suits Bilbo well in his opinion, now that he has taken one last adventure with dear Bofur and Nori and his young apprentice to ease that restlessness in him. Even if he finds himself unable to step into that magnificent mountain once more. With the conclusion of his last journey, he lays down his walking stick and have moved into the peaceful elven haven that has ensnared his heart long ago. In a few short days, the peaceful valley of Elrond Half-elven had done wonders to his exhausted and tired old soul.

Elladan and Elrohir settles beside him, leaning on the elegant railings along the high garden pavilion.The setting sun illuminating the Valley in golden light. They have shown him the great libraries, the council rooms and lovely gardens. Not forgetting the amazing kitchens and the wondrous Hall of Fire.

Yet he finds this one that they have wondrously called 'Rivendell’s Most Unbelievable Wonder Through The Ages' the most bizarre of all.

"I'm not sure how this is...a thing?" Bilbo gives the twins a wary eye, uncertain how he should feel about this with a willowy wave of his hand to gesture at whatever he is seeing before him.

In response, the twins' smiles grow wider and bright. Although the joy of the young Lords of Rivendell sends a dull wrenching twang into his heart. For once upon a time, he knew two young princes who shared the same bright smiles and playfulness in their eyes.

No, no, stop. Don't go back down that hole you silly old Baggins. Not here, not now.

“Oh, its a thing alright! Do not be deceived, Master BIlbo! Even if they deny it to this very day. In fact," at that point, Elladan draws nearer in a whisper, "every century, the whole House will update wagers on it."

"Aye! Isn't that right, Aerion?” Elrohir turns to ask the guardsman on duty nearby with a laugh. Even though said elven guard does not share the same mirthful sentiment with a careful look out of the corner of his eye to his young lords.

“Please don't bring me into this, my Lords. For I have no wish to have my guard duty extended by any means.” Elrohir and Elladan gave a loud laugh at that dry reply, which only serves to make the twins tease the tired guard even harder. Bilbo instead, takes the moment to watch on quietly as distant voices fade in the wind.

The two mighty guardians of Rivendell, Glorfindel and Erestor. Ephemeral and strong, walking alongside each other, gliding along the slender bridges by the waterfall gracefully like all of the elves seem to do. A serene scene of peace, as the golden haired elf bows down his head like a swan to allow his shorter companion to reach up and brush away the stray water droplets from his cheek. The fair Captain taking the opportunity to grasp those slender fingers, brushing a kiss on the back of the Chief Councillor's hand. His gentle lips lingering on soft skin. While the intimidating advisor simply indulges the balrog-salyer, allowing him his little whims.

The obviously private and tender moment brings forth another wave of old memories that Bilbo have laid to rest under rock and mountain, far in the East. Of a time long ago, almost as if it was yesterday, under the same setting sun. There upon the Carrock, where Bilbo once felt the warmth of another heart who had eyes that bore the colour of the endless sky.

No.

No,no,no. No reason to have those thoughts. He's gone, they are gone, its all in the past and he can do nothing to change that fact.

Bilbo shuts his eyes and smothers the beginnings of old memories resurfacing once more with his pain and regrets. Hands clenched in his empty coat pockets, grasping for the missing weight of his old trinket, before the old Hobbit simply sighs. He lets himself feel the sun on his skin, with the gentle air of Rivendell soothing his old soul, and he tries to breathe.

---

"-Oh and don't get me started on Court of the Vanyar! They make the Noldor Court seem simpler in comparison. It was all very stifling, to me at least, even when my family are only minor members of both Courts. Every clan had their own share of drama if I must say." Glorfindel shakes his head with a sigh, while focused on tidying his treasured trees. Their shapes lovingly sculpted and grown with painstaking care over the years in beautifully commissioned pots.

"Well, from what I have read about Finwe and his family, it very much reminded me of our own Hobbit families. Bothersome, is it not? It's probably the only thing I don't miss about the Shire. Especially the Sackville-Baggins! Oh, I do hope Frodo is dealing well with it all...But he's a smart lad, that he is!" Bilbo gives a small hum as he sips his cup of sweet hibiscus tea.

The tranquil garden and flora makes Bilbo feel at ease despite stressing over greatly early on being invited to tea in the Golden Lord's quarters. Much like their master, the many flowers in Glorfindel's private garden all bloom gracefully, beautiful and bright.

Glorfindel of Gondolin, Lindon, and now Imladris, had been an enigma. For it was only recently the hobbit had the chance to be acquainted with the legendary hero of song. Bilbo had not expected the balrog-slayer who have fought countless great wars to be this easy to get along. A very charming and animated ellon. His lively spirit shines like the light around him, golden and warm like the sun

The Captain too, had been curious about their newest resident and instantly felt connected to the hobbit once he saw Bilbo arrive into Rivendell with Sting tucked proudly by his side. The old Lord’s heart had gladden to find a relic of his past have landed into good hands. It was a little later they found that they had share a great love and interest for nature and tea, with the Lord keen in sharing his knowledge with the intriguing and scholarly second-born.

Looking at these lovely flowers is making Bilbo wonder how his own gardens in Bag End fair right now, but he knows young Samwise and the Gamgees are taking care of them well.

"To be honest I am not familiar, especially of Feanor's side. I was close to Fingolfin and Turgon only because my amil had been close to Lady Indis." At that Glorfindel seemed to pause and thought quietly for a minute with a thoughtful finger to his lips," Only Erestor would know, I suppose."

"The Chief Councillor? Was he truly close to Feanor and his sons as they say?" Bilbo pops a honey cake into his mouth, trying to remember the descendants of Finwe with as much accuracy as he could.

"Too young to know Feanor! Eres had served under Maedhros and Maglor, though he grew up in Thargelion under Caranthir. He's probably the only one left on this side of the Sea who knew all of Feanor's Sons and Celebrimbor. I don't recommend asking about it. It is, and remains... a difficult subject for him." With that Glorfindel lays down the tiny scissors in his hand, while brushing away any stray twigs.

"I noticed you both are very close, it is heartening to see such close bond you share." Bilbo quickly pours the ellon a cup of tea, who receives it gratefully. "Even if Lord Erestor seem to be a formidable individual to get along."

Indeed he was, for when the first time Bilbo had encountered the Lord, he was in a full blown rage at the apprentice scribes. The Hobbit just passing through the administrative halls with Lord Elrond when they hear Erestor berating the group of staff for a mistake with the invoices for timber and construction with heavy words. It was certainly quite an impression and a contrast to the Erestor he remembered seeing later on the bridge with Glorfindel. However, Bilbo has yet been able to make further acquaintance with the ever busy, and ever elusive advisor of Elrond.

"Oh, don't tell him I said this, Eres may look cold to all, but he's much like a chestnut! Prickly on the outside, but sweet on the inside! Even if he still refuses to help me trim these little ones while I'm on patrol!" Glorfidel gestures to his little trees that seem to be dancing in their pretty pots." Moving them into the shade is all he could do, he says! Is that not terrible? Said he did not want to water for fear of drowning them, which is very silly considering we are elves! These little ones can tell him how much water they require!"

The warrior and the hobbit laugh. Until Glorfindel turns to his flowers, caressing a celandine as the warrior's mood turns sombre.

"When all saw a flawless visage of an ideal Hero returned, it was only him who saw a broken soul who was made to fit a mould from the day he was born." Glorfindel admits quietly, as if its a shameful confession."I was so lost, so alone in all that noise. From Tirion to Gondolin and to Lindon...no one knew. Not even dear Ecthelion or Elgamoth. I realised later I had resented it."

Bilbo have no words as he watches Glorfindel's eyes glaze over, reminiscing of a time long past.

"I may be blessed by the Valar, but even I am no perfect being in Eru's Song. For that, I am grateful to have met Erestor in this second life, for he was the only one who dared called me out. He had opened my eyes, so that I can find the courage in myself… to simply be 'Glorfindel'. "

Bilbo froze, his teacup nearly slipping from his hand. A chill of deja-vu sends a chill down Bilbo's spine. A hand pulls up to his cravat while the other dug deep into his pocket with a tremble.

Fingers feeling a phantom touch of hands wrapped around an acorn and his own.The lingering touch of large warm palms that once laid hands on his bare neck burns. Of bloody hands full of calloused and scars growing cold in his own.

He snaps out of his thoughts just as quickly as it came. Foolish old Baggins! Old age has certainly muddled his mind. Best to have some tea to calm those damn thoughts as Glorfindel's voice began to grow clearer once more.

"-Well! He did punch my face in and then called me a friend and a 'fucking prideful twit and indecisive dick' all in the same breathe but-It was exhilarating!"

Bilbo spits out his tea.

---

-With a snarl, Mori makes a grab for Lote's hand, unwilling to let him leave. The Lord of the Moon tugs him back, pressing his full weight against the Lord of the Gardens against a tree, determined and unwilling to let his love flee once more. Eager lips crushing against the other in a hungry kiss. Each protest drowned out by the love they have as cries yearning for more fill the air.

Overcome by want and need, they tore their robes away, seeking for skin. To feel the other in desperation and assurance after everything, to join their souls once again.

In the midst of it all, the lovers have failed to notice the eyes of another watching them intently under the cover of emerald leaves. King Taur watches on, as he finally lets go, surrendering his desire to another who had claimed the heart of the mighty Lord. While the couple continue their passionate dance, as if nothing in this world mattered but the one in their arms-

"What are you reading that has captured your attention so, Bilbo?"

The old hobbit promptly snaps the book shut. A seemingly innocent leather bound novel in violet, with naught but a crescent moon and moonflower embossed artfully on the front. With a deep breath and some time to process what he have just read as years of proper, hobbitish decorum suppressed that undignified noise from his throat.

Which is ridiculous on second thought for he was a very old hobbit, not some young fauntling.

Bilbo then slowly tilts his head up to find Elrond watching him intently with a serene smile. The elf Lord of his new home who always seem to bear a soothing presence and eyes filled with wisdom of the ages.

"Good afternoon, Elrond! A pleasant day, is it not?" Bilbo greets, making light pleasantries to dispel any possible awkwardness present. All while scooting over from his spot on the garden bench."Come to enjoy the gardens too?"

"Well, I could use a break. At least, until Erestor hunts me down once more to peruse the trade agreement with Thranduil for the fifth time. Which is still five times too many, in my humble opinion. But do not tell him that." Elrond replies, shifting beside the hobbit comfortably, before he notices the innocent looking novel in his grasp. His dark eyes brightened at the sight of the cover.

"Ah,I see you have been reading one of Rivendell's most popular literary works. Long has it been since I have seen a new update! It is a rare collectable amongst those who live here, a book that appears in rare places, strangely enough. Celebrian had loved the series. She always did her best to seek out each new book to add to her collection." Elrond smiles, reaching a hand out to peek inside the pages.

"Oh, dear Elbereth! There is even illustrations now? How marvellous!"

"This? Truly?"Bilbo is baffled by Elrond's words and finds himself babbling on, a little embarrassed still to have been caught reading what was obviously a dramatic romantic saga.

"I just happened to be looking around your library, amazing collection, very impressive! Such splendid upkeep of history and culture, I daresay, even I'm inspired to pick up my quill to write something despite my procrastinations in translation of some lore! Oh what was I saying…Oh! Its just simply by sheer chance I spotted this book with such a lovely cover! Wonderful craft! It was tucked at the top. Awfully dreadful place, too high up, but Master Melpomaen was so very kind to help me get this. Although he did looked a little unusual and seemed a little reluctant to hand it over!"

"Of course. Considering this particular series is a contraband here."

Silence.

"I'm sorry but my ears seem to be failing me for I seem to not be hearing you quite clearly. Contraband? In Rivendell? For whatever reason could some simple romance literature be a 'contraband'?" Bilbo's fingers come up to do little gestures of a quote at the incredulous revelation, unable to wrap his head around the thought. A clearly ordinary romantic fiction, that is popular and well received by readers, a contraband in Rivendell where the greatest tomes and arts are to be found? Sounds rather foolish if you speak it aloud!

"Well, it is not banned, per say. More like its author is someone my Chief Councillor has been...eager, to meet for a very long time, to put it lightly." Elrond explains after a pause, only to receive a blank look from the gentlehobbit.

The robins chirp merrily and the tulips dances on while Bilbo blinks at the elven Lord.

"The main characters, do they not remind you of anyone?" Elrond tries again with a slight wave of his hand.

Actually, they do.

"Please do not tell me its Glorfindel and..."Bilbo takes a moment, "Lord Erestor."

"Ahhh, even an outsider has quickly caught on. Yes, that book has haunted my dear Councillor for many yeni. I am surprised to see the series surfacing once more and so soon this century." Elrond continues with an enthusiastic nod. Completely disregarding Bilbo's incredulous look and twitch of his nose while slowly processing the revelation as he studies the simple cover of the novel in amazement.

The sudden quiet rustling from the leaves above catches their attention.The elf and hobbit both look up.

Cold gold eyes peers down at them in a glower. The owl hoots balefully at the two.

"And very unfortunately, that is my cue to take my leave." The master of Rivendell mutters grimly before getting up with quick, silent steps. Not before he stops and back tracks a little after a short pause.

"Also, Bilbo, whenever you are done with that book, would you kindly let me have it?"

---

The stars glitter beautifully as a great fire burns brightly in the Hall of fire. The Captain is surrounded by his soldiers and a few of the Dunedain, playing a mannish drinking game involving some tavern songs with the minstrels joining in. Elrond on the other hand, did not looked too impressed that Elrohir and Elladan are playing along with some of the more bawdy ones.

However on the outer side of the Hall, Bilbo is unable to relax in the quiet corner despite the cheerful atmosphere. Even the lovely platter of cheeses and crackers on his lap cannot distract his scattered mind.

Lindir trills a jolly verse which ends with a round of laughter from all in the Hall. Meanwhile, his Baggins-ness demands him to ignore that implusive thought, even though the idea of leaving it alone does not sit well with Bilbo. It was a thought that has been nagging at him greatly for quite awhile yet it irks him to be so uncertain in how to address it.

Namely, to the one sitting right beside him.

Erestor seemed unbothered by the troubled hobbit beside him as he turns a page of Numenorian poetry in hand, occasionally picking up a berry dipped in sweet cream to nibble on with a delicate dessert fork from his plate. The perfect image of absolute control and composure.

His Tookish-ness finally bites.

"So, you and Glorfindel?"

Erestor pauses with his fork in mid-air and turns a side eye towards Bilbo. Observing in an almost unnerving silence. Before the Councillor lets out a heavy sigh, dropping his treat on his plate as if he is tired of answering the same old question repeatedly.

"We are not courting, if that is what you are asking." The quiet advisor replies flatly and then turns back to his book.

"Indeed, that is not."Bilbo takes a deep breath," rather, why are you both not? Its rather obvious you both are together if not, in love."

Erestor stills. The elf now turns his attention completely to the old hobbit. His silvery green eyes sharp and cold. Bilbo sees. This is not just any elf before him, but one who has seen far more bloodshed and violence, loss and sorrow, than a mere hobbit.

Yet Bilbo Baggins, previously of the Shire and of Bag End, is unfazed by this stern ellon's gaze. For nothing will ever compare to the cold eyes of stone glazed in cold molten gold. Not even the great piercing stare of an evil fire drake that towered over a gentlehobbit of the Shire. All the dreadful and cruel things, and all bearing the promises of fire and death.

"And what would you know of love, Master Bilbo?" The words are delivered quietly, piercing sharp like blades. Though not with disdain, but with cautious care. A true politician.

"I know because I had loved once, Lord Councillor." Bilbo leans his chin on his hand and gives a tired smile, slowly turning to stare into the fiery glow of the fire in the hall instead. As if the flames are burning him with old memories with snarls of wargs and the silhouette of the Pale Orc looming ahead. Of dragon fire and dwarrow leading a charge. Of a King fighting to the bitter end.

Of a beloved sitting close by his side in the quiet of night by the lake over the autumn moonlight.Warm, gentle hands beside his own.

"Love, I did." Bilbo continues to smile wistfully, reaching for those beloved memories that have kept calling out to him at long last, "And I will never again, at least until I find the Halls of Mahal."

Erestor turns fully now towards his companion, and Bilbo can feel the elf watching him with an unreadable gaze. Before he hears the shuffling of pages and a book being closed.

The laughter of men and elves resounds.

"Did they not know?"

"No.No... I never told him, even at the very end. Out of foolish hopes and denial I suppose. Afterall, what is a simple hobbit hoping to do, standing next to a King who bears a great legacy?" Bilbo lets out a helpless laugh as he wills the prickling in his eyes away.

"And why should a hobbit who bested a dragon not stand beside a King?" Erestor pushes on, seeking to understand the dilemma.

"Then why should two elven Lords of a great realm and esteem standing not be together in all sense of the word?" Bilbo counters.

There is no proper response as the two stare at the other, while the merry making crowd continues to sing.

"Its not that simple." Erestor finally whispers as he turns his eyes towards the dancing fire, where the soldiers are dancing to the beat. It was barely loud enough for Bilbo to catch on.

"Not if you keep overcomplicating it? To be alive, to be able eat and to drink and cheer and to feel the grass and stone beneath your toes with someone by your side... why worry about uncertain sorrow you have made for yourself?" Bilbo replies, before going on softly.

"Far better be it to love with your all now, even just once, then to regret what may be when its all too late. Time waits for no one, not even immortals."

The old adventurer stands, pushing away the plate of snacks to the elf and gives a slight nod, taking his leave. Erestor's eyes linger on, following the old hobbit as he walks away as laughter echoes on into the quiet of the night.

---

After he retires back into his room, Bilbo sits at his hobbit sized desk, watching Earendil glowing high above Rivendell.

Time is cruel. Time is fickle. But time will not stop him from meeting the One he loves again at the end of this winding road. Until then...he will not forget the gift he has been granted, walking out of his round green door.

The hobbit turns and looks at the crimson red leather journal in the corner of his desk. Old wrinkled fingers trailing along, tracing the texture of its leather cover. The bright laughter of two princes echoes in his mind with old friends, with the deep tenor of a beloved singing of home.

Bilbo dips a quill into ink as he begins to write.

---

A/N: When all else fails, always trust your resident Hobbit who has yet to address his deep PTSD.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)

[titlemewickedwonderland]

Ghoul Game Night - Rain

Summary: As the newest member of the Ghost Project as the newest Ghoul you don't know your pack very well, but you're about to with a game of Ghoul Truth or Dare, what will be in store for you?!

Fandom: Ghost Band

Pairing: Rain X Ghoul!reader

Warning: Sexual tension, cute awkwardness, fluff, precious Rain (must protect) + I want to rail you Rain (Also must protect because...dommy Rain hits just a bit different)

Workshop

She was jittery. Wondering who she'd get - no, not who she'd get...she knew regardless she'd be safe. Maybe a bit embarrassed but she knew none of them would hurt her. It was more of the nerves of what she'd get; of what the boys would ask her to do...even unintentionally if she knew the things written were just as of a surprise to them as they would be for her.

A warm hand rubbed between her horns and she looked away from the spinning bottle to peer through her lashes at the Earth Ghoul who was watching her more than the spinning glass in front of them. His eyes were warm beneath the mess of hair and he tilted his head at her as if silently asking her if she was okay.

She smiled up at him and nodded; absently reaching up to wrap her tail around his arm for something to hang onto while she returned her attention to the slowly spinning bottle. She absently wondered if she'd have the courage to ask if she could share Mountain's nest with him tonight; besides Aether - who most likely would be busy with Dew tonight. Mountain and Rain were the next best comforts she had here even if they didn't know it. Having them near with their calming energy was like a blessed balm of aloe to a burn even when they did nothing more but say a few words to her throughout the weeks of them practicing in the rehearsals together for the next upcoming tour.

Her attention refocused on the bottle as it slowly began to stop and it looked as if it was pointing at her so she reached to spin again thinking it was a defaulted turn only for a hand to reach out to stop her. She looked up in surprise to find Rain holding onto her with a slight smile as he shook his head; his way of silently telling her without words there was no need. Y/n pulled her hand away slowly and looked back down at the bottle to realize that the bottle hadn't stopped on her but had continued on just half an inch to the side - straight at Rain who occupied the other side of her that Mountain did not.

"Oh." she realized blushing but her tail thumped happily at realizing the lucky information.

"Lucky little shit." Dew grumbled from somewhere in the room but Y/n wasn't paying too much attention as she met Rain's gaze and her cheeks flushed at the cute little smile that rested on his lips.

"So, love birds. What's it going to be?" Aether spoke up with a teasing smile on his face as he jiggled the boxes in front of him.

Y/n blinked and turned her gaze away from the gentle ghoul beside her and looked over at the boxes while biting her lip in thought. "It's going to be bad no matter which one we choose, isn't it?" she mused

"Sunshine is creative when it comes to truth and dare....so yeah... no you're fucked." Swiss laughed leaning back on his hands.

"Fine, then...I choose to do truth. Rain...you okay with a dare?" Y/n looked over at the water ghoul who was still staring over at her.

He nodded quickly without a word and Dew snickered from across the room muttering something about being 'pussy whipped' only earning a smack to the back of the head from Aether. The quintessence dug his hand into one box - Dares and pulled it out to read for them.

"Rain, your dare of the night is..." Aether unfolded the paper. "Give Y/n a 30-second lap dance." he held up a finger tutting as he unfolded Y/n's truth and grinned.

"And Y/n your truth is...If you and Rain had sex in public, where would it be?" he smirked looking smug as he placed the read papers into the used box.

"Oh!" Dew nearly fell into Swiss' side from how hard he was laughing. There were tears actually starting to well up in his eyes. "That's epic!"

Y/n flushed as deeply as Rain as they looked at each other. But as Y/n looked at Rain she wondered if that glint in his eye was not out of nerves but of something else entirely but before she could mention it Dew and Swiss - the fucker duo, were up on their feet scrambling to set up a mini stage.

"Can't do this without the goods man! Swiss go get a chair dude!" Dew ran from the room stumbling on pillows and tripping over blankets as he exited heading towards the rooms to grab something.

Y/n looked over at Mountain and Aether for help but they seemed just as amused as if on an inside joke she was not privy to; that made her even more nervous and confused so when she turned to ask Rain what the secrecy was about she was pulled to her feet by Swiss and placed into a kitchen chair in the middle of the room. The blankets and pillows were shoved to the side as well as the furniture to create a free space for the show.

Dew came running back in with cords and items juggling in his hands. He dumped a few things onto the coffee table. A mini portable speaker, a phone she damn well knew wasn't his, and a flashlight? She blinked confused as she sat there and looked around to find Rain had moved to stand by Dew looking over his shoulder - whispering to him and pointing to things on the phone. Swiss and Aether plopped their butts on the sofa across the room and rubbed their hands together.

"You're lucky Y/n. Rain may not look like he moves much but god does he know how to behind closed doors. You're in for a treat." Swiss winked at her.

Mountain who stood at the door with a hand on the lights was watching for the signal from Rain. The pair of ghouls finally seemed to settle on a song. The lights were suddenly turned off and the room sank into utter darkness; well utter darkness if you were human. Y/n could still see well enough to find Rain standing several feet in front of her.

The music of 'Dirty Mind' by Boy Epic began to play over the speakers that now were connected by Bluetooth to what she now knew must have been Rain's phone. Suddenly a spotlight was turned on directly onto Y/n where she sat in the kitchen chair. She swallowed staring at the water ghoul who even in the darkness beyond; she could tell he was in his performance zone. There was just something about the two different personas that struck a chord in her; the knowing how sweet and shy he was - gentle and boyish and then comparing it to the sexual beast that he was portraying now - watching as the lithe body stalked forward with smooth and suggestively promising movements making his way toward her.

There was a certain animalistic feeling to his movements as he circled her; his hands trailing lightly but seductively along her arms and neck while his body stayed in movement. Y/n tried to watch him by turning her head when he disappeared behind her but Rain grasped her throat just below her jaw and put pressure to make her crane her head back to stare at him; there was a certain gleam in his dark eyes as he leaned down and playfully with a slow drag ran his tongue from the center of her forehead to the bridge of her nose and flicked at her slightly parted lips.

Before she could say a word or breath he let go of her and suddenly his body was draped over her lap. Legs spread wide on either side of her while he gyrated to the beat of the music on her lap. Her hands clenched and her teeth sank painfully into her bottom lip as she tried to stop herself from touching him. Rain wouldn't have it. If he was going to do this - secretly enjoying the attention; she damn well would get her time's worth. His touch was gentle as he grabbed her clenched fists and placed them on his waist; she could feel the lean muscles beneath her touch flexing as he moved; grinding down on her and rolling his body like some kind of hypnotizing snake and Y/n cursed the fact that he was wearing clothes right now. Would it be considered rude to just slip her hands beneath his shirt to feel his skin?

As if reading her mind Rain's body went from grinding his weight on her lap to kneeling above her; the edge of the chair digging into his knees on either side of her hips but he didn't seem to mind as he lifted himself; now looking down at her through hooded eyes as he reached down and grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head.

Y/n head felt fuzzy with arousal at all the pale smooth skin in front of her. Rain was not considered ripped or anything. But he had more definition than Dew. His skin was smooth and warm and her eyes greedily took in all the exposed skin. Y/n never appreciated arms as much as she did at that moment as the muscles and veins of his arms flexed as he moved. His shoulders and biceps were firm and strong but not overly so as someone like Alpha or Ifrit would be. The smooth grooves of his abs were right there in front of her face; her face was just inches from his stomach with lean abs flexing with his movements and she couldn't fight the urge anymore.

She leaned over the last few inches to run her tongue tantalizingly slow from his navel up his stomach to his sternum causing Rain's breath to hiss out and look down at her with wide pupils blown with arousal. If the eyes were of no indication of how turned on he was with his own little show the damn bulge just below her chin was a rather big indication. Somewhere someone in the room around them groaned out and the sound did nothing to help the heat between the water ghoul and her.

Fingers slipped into her hair and her head was yanked further back so that Rain could double over her; pressing his mouth to hers in a deceptively sweet kiss.

"Hey, Y/n. Can I ask you a question?" Rain murmured in his sweet voice as he pulled away gently running the tip of his nose up and down alongside hers causing her heart to flutter at the oddly tender motion.

"Y-yah." it was more of a squeak than anything intelligible to escape her suddenly parched lips as she stared up at him with hazy unfocused eyes.

"If we were to have sex...where would you want it to be?"

The question took a moment to register and when it did her face flushed and she tried to hide her expression into the warmth of his chest but the firm grip on her hair held her in place and she was left staring up at him with face aflame.

"Hmm? Don't tell me your suddenly shy?" a wicked little smile began tugging at Rain's mouth as he felt the trembling of her touch against his skin.

"R-Rain"

"That was the truth, wasn't it? You have to answer Sweetling...or you could take a shot. But I don't know where Dew put the liquor." the water ghoul gave a faux hum of concern as he looked around the dark room pretending to try and find the bottle of alcohol even when he could see it right there on the table with the boxes off to the side.

Y/n couldn't hold back the whine this time at his domineering yet playful side; they both knew he was in full control right now - he'd stop though if she'd indicated her uncomfortability.

"I...." Rain's eyes fell back on the ghoulette with a brow raised as she struggled to maintain composure and the tease that he was he began moving again; a little less show-offy and instead it felt as if he was seriously only dancing for her. As if they were in their own little world right now and he was trying to seduce the panties off of her - little bugger having already succeeded regardless.

"Hmm?"

"K-keep dancing like that and I'll tell you." Y/n tried to find some boldness as her hands gripped his waist

"Yeah?" Rain smiled slightly down as her and released her hair to idly run his fingers down her neck causing her to physically shudder at the tickling feeling.

"Tell me."

Y/n closed her eyes but a firm grip on her chin to lift it reopened her gaze to meet his darkened one - he didn't say anything but the look in his eyes dared her to look away. Her lips parted on a shaky exhale.

"T-the aquarium."

He blinked at her. "Oh?"

"I-I love going to the aquarium and...y-you're a water ghoul. I figured...that'd be the perfect place. Or the pool. When no one's there and it's nearly closed for the day...b-but there's a risk that someone may want to get in a last hour's swim...the risk of a lifeguard coming in to catch us while they go about closing the pool," she swallowed scanning his face.

Rain licked his lips thoughtfully as he watched her eyes grow unfocused again as she got lost in her own fantasy and he grinned leaning down to bump horns with her. "Or something more romantic maybe...like the lake during summer while there are people out vacationing? Along the beach? It would be so easy to just hide you away in a cluster of rocks and fuck you until your back is raw with the scrapes of the rocks and the taste of ocean water on your tongue...I could lick those salty droplets off your skin...salty like the tears you'd be crying."

"Rain I-" Y/n arched up seeking something - anything Rain would give her. But suddenly a voice broke through their haze dumping cold water on her and making her whimper in desperation at the interruption.

"Satanas below Rain give us a break man before you make me cum in my pants!" Dew's voice groaned from the darkness and suddenly the lights were flicked back on to find a sweaty Dew and Swiss on the couch together. Swiss looked as if he had been sitting in a damn sauna - his hand had been tucked into the front of Dew's pants who looked like he seriously was about to come undone right there and then when Y/n met his fiery gaze.

Aether was holding it together but his knee was bouncing and he was staring at the damned wall as if it did him wrong with the fierce glare he was pinning it with - his way of trying to seem tough and unaffected but the flush of pink on his cheeks was a giveaway of his arousal...or that could be Dew's tail doing it's job as it wiggled into Aethers pants like an untamed snake.

Mountain came walking in from the kitchen with a few bottles of water. He turned off the music as he passed and handed Rain the bottle of water; ruffling his hand a bit and sending Y/n a wink as he handed her one as well.

"Beautifully done. That was more than 30 seconds by the way." he chuckled under his breath as he went to go take his seat looking all sorts of amused.

More like unbothered as he watched Rain climb back off of Y/n and retreat back into his little shell. He coughed a bit and drank half of the water; feeling a heat cross his face as he glanced at Y/n who had to take a minute to breathe and compose herself. How on earth could that ghoul switch so fast? How often did he give lap dances anyway? Maybe Rain wasn't as safe and innocent as she had first thought. They all were demons after all.

Rising on shaky legs she walked over to the couch to sit beside Mountain and Rain while they watched the others rearrange the common area again. A soft breath against her ear caused her to freeze and give Rain a side glance. He was leaning into her space - a soft nuzzle against her jaw causing her to shiver a bit as he spoke low enough for her to hear.

"Let me know when you want to go do some sightseeing with me. I know a few places that are just...fucking...delightful."

@darklylucid Tagging you love because you are awesome for reblogging my game series and I'm so happy you're enjoying them! Here you go, you horny bugger! <3

[iamthecomet]

Psst. Swiss totally has Mountain's name and element sign tattooed on his ass. He got it done on tour while he was drunk off his shit and didn't remember it until a few days after when Mountain is balls deep and just railing his ass and sees it and he just splutters "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT".

This is my gift to you today.

Hugs and kisses 😘💙

Bet Mountain cums as soon as he sees it too. Big boy can't handle eye contact or gestures of love without blowing it, so we all know he saw it, got jump-scared, and came his brains out about it.

Thank you for this gift, Mac. It's LOVELY.

[rainbowchewynuggets]

TMA Encore - Epilogue

Georgie: The Wilkinson House–also known as the Floating House or Trespasser House–was built in 1896 in Rodell, Kentucky, USA. Two brothers, Joseph and Mathias Wilkinson, inherited their late father’s coveted plot of land. Unwilling to reach an agreement over the use of the land, the brothers descended into an increasingly ugly feud. Joseph built a house “overnight” to stake his claim, using materials bought at short-sale auctions in a nearby town. Said town was suffering from air and water pollution from newly built factories surrounding the steps of the Appalachian Mountains where it lay. The town as it was slowly dismantled and moved out, and the area has since been named Smog, Kentucky. Fun fact: three of these factories belonged to Wilkinson Sr. It is unclear whether they were included in the will.

Georgie: Joseph contracted tetanus while finishing the house and died soon after. Mathias tried to have the house torn down, but apparently had a change of heart and moved it to the same lot as his own home. His body was found with a broken neck in the attic by a neighbor a few days later.

Georgie: The house was made into a tourist attraction the following year, on account of the shocking tale behind it as well as its eerie creeks and slamming doors–most likely due to the rushed craftsmanship. The story went that Joseph’s ghost had possessed his brother and made him move the house, then killed him in revenge. The attraction was moderately popular up until the Great Depression. It never officially closed, despite additional unexplained deaths on the property and a growing negative reputation. The body count only drew in a steady stream of onlookers, according to tour records.

Georgie: It wasn’t until the spring of 2017 that things began to change. On April 18th, the house was observed to have disappeared from the lot without a trace.

Georgie: Five months later, a house of identical description allegedly appeared on a small island in the Pacific Northwest. A retired entrepreneur reported to local police that it had been placed illegally, as she had bought the island privately several weeks before. Police were ready to dismiss the complaint when they arrived and found nothing. She was adamant that the intrusion had occurred and went on record with a vivid argument she had had with one of the two occupants, who she says had been reading a book written in Spanish on the porch. The other was repairing part of the railing and shot her dirty looks. The complaint was sustained after fresh scratches and paint chips were found in the soil, but the case was otherwise shelved.

Georgie: Surprisingly, the pair of men don’t appear to be the Wilkinsons. The brothers were both Kentucky-born and -bred, white, average height, muscular, and almost hairless. The house’s new occupants were “British-sounding”. One was very thin and short and appeared to be of Indian or Middle-Eastern descent, with silver hair. The other was tall, heavy-set, and white with brown hair.

Georgie: Similar reports would crop up in North, Central, and South America over the next few years and get passed around on Tumblr, Twitter, and Reddit. The house would almost always appear in secluded areas that were off-limits to the public and disappear itself shortly after being found. It was always inhabited by the same two men, with the added consensus that they were married.

Georgie: They were rarely spotted in nearby towns and never spoke with anyone enough for their names to become known. When they were interacted with, they were generally polite--if a little tired or distracted. Otherwise, they were found to be wandering the area around their house together, mending the exterior, reading, or reciting aloud. Even the most invasive person couldn’t attempt to film or approach the house without suffering a migraine or severe paranoia before losing consciousness. The house would be gone when they woke up, and their recording device rendered unusable. But written descriptions match a file photo of the original Wilkinson house. Debate sprung up over whether the two were ghosts, aliens, witches, a made up meme that keeps coming into fashion, or two eccentric recluses who happened to be living in a haunted house and deserved to be left alone.

Georgie: Sightings became more sparse toward 2023. When the couple were encountered, they never responded when spoken to. A reddit user in Mongolia supposedly used their home telescope to take photos through the house’s windows where it sat in a glen behind their apartment. The two men sat still or paced in separate rooms for a few hours. They stopped and came together to talk once. The redditor recorded the conversation through lip reading and concluded that they were arguing in English about “where it was going” or “what we are being”. Their accuracy is disputed. The occupants then began pulling books and papers off of the shelves in every room. The user stepped away for a few minutes and came back to find that all the windows were greyed out. They were unsure if they were covered in smoke or paper. The house stayed for a week in that state before disappearing. This account used to be widely discredited, as it didn’t fit the behavior profile at the time and the photos taken are unreadable. More radical accounts are believed to exist going backward, but have suffered from link decay and regional internet suppression.

Georgie: On May 8th of 2024, an elderly woman living next to a military base in New Mexico told her connected family that there had been a security threat that morning, complete with sirens and troops rushing out with rifles and buggies. Her husband–who works as a janitor there–only alluded to “some kind of prank with an old empty house”. Their grandchildren relayed the story to their mutuals on tumblr, stirring attention in the States again.

Georgie: Following reports of the Floating House usually included some description of a visit by a pair of American “secret service” agents or men in military garb with weapons. The usual couple either answer the door or refuse to come out, and the house is gone within minutes. Similar accounts were made by users in China, Chile, Australia, and Turkiye, but were discounted as the agents were always said to be American. The circumstances of each encounter continued to escalate until it was claimed by a cyclist in Mayak, Russia that there was some kind of standoff between the two sides, followed by a “nuclear” explosion that left nothing behind but the house. The area appeared untouched the next day, but had apparently become irradiated due to previously unaccounted-for material in the soil that had been agitated by construction efforts. A few people were found dead in the area. The cyclist himself had to be treated for burns.

Georgie: From here, it gets a little muddy. Despite a renewed surge in popularity for the Floating House, agreed-upon sightings are very rare for the next two years. It only appears in very sparsely populated areas along the north and south poles and is even faster to disappear. A researcher in Antarctica thought she saw the outline of a roof on the horizon as the sun rose after six months of night, but it was gone a few seconds later. She managed to get a quick drawing of the shape, which will be included in the image links in the description. There are often claims of similar encounters to the American secret agent incident. Sometimes it’s cultists. Sometimes it’s businessmen. Or “werewolves”. Sometimes it’s members of a particular subgroup that also follows the sightings. It all ends the same, with the house as the only thing standing when the dust has cleared. The house’s legend has become so routine, that many accounts are ignored out of hand and highly disputed. Though, it is notable that the inhabitants haven’t been a visible part of the story in several months.

Georgie: Phew. Now, to wrap up our deep-dive on the Floating House, we’re going to hear a first-hand account from just last year.

Napâttuk: Okay. Um, hello. My name is Napâttuk Waska. I saw the house in the woods near my hometown–south of Salluit, Quebec, basically. Almost at the tip. I’m not sure exactly how long it had been there by the time I found it. I practically lived in those woods from birth, but I’d been away at university in Montreal with my partner, Tootega.

Napâttuk: I kind of have to tell you about all that for this to make sense. She had some friends there who were willing to let us stay with them. And it was… it was really bad. Not the friends. I’d just never lived in a big city before, and I wasn’t expecting all the trash and noise and giant ugly buildings. And then, there was a really big forest fire nearby a little while after we got there. We didn’t end up having to evacuate, but smoke came in on the wind for two weeks. I was covered in ash and my eyes hurt by the time I got to class every day. The way the sun came through the smoke made everything look orange and menacing. I tried my best to stick it out because Tega was handling it alright. But I just found myself sitting inside all the time, watching people talk on the news about the new giant ugly buildings they were going to put in the place where the trees were burning down. I had to make myself not freak out every time there was a little change in how the air smelled for the rest of the semester.

Napâttuk: Anyway. By the time we finally went back home after finals, I was desperate to feel normal again. This was December, and it hadn’t really snowed yet–which is very odd. But the weather said snow was coming, so I tried not to let it bother me. I decided to go hiking in a spot I knew about ten miles from town. It’s a bowl surrounded by hills, so it’s hard to get lost. I didn’t make Tega go with me. She hates hiking. But it was fine. It was just like I remembered. I felt great.

Napâttuk: And that’s when I saw it. Just–this house sitting in the middle of the forest. First of all, this is the Low Arctic. We don’t even have a ton of forests. It could have been put anywhere else. Second, this is my forest. I mean, it’s not. But. It was like someone had just dumped the house there and knocked over a bunch of trees, and then left. There were skid marks on the ground, like it had been dragged. It even looked like trash. It’s exactly the same as the picture you showed me, but the windows and roof had been covered up with metal. Most of the wood I could see had bullet holes in it. The paint was almost gone, and the slats were discolored and caked in brown and yellow stuff. Like some kind of glue. The weirdest thing was that it looked… bloated. Have you ever seen wood that’s been left in the water too long, and it gets swollen and bent? It was like that, but something had been pushing at it from the inside at the same time. I could hear it creaking and groaning under its own weight. The whole thing was slanted away from the ruts in the ground, which was also strange. I was too mad to really think about that at the time.

Napâttuk: It reminded me of some of the scary neighborhoods around the university, so I was nervous about getting the attention of anyone inside. But I made myself get over it and marched up to the door. I heard rustling when I knocked, so I knew someone was in there. I–I don’t know what was wrong with me. I tried opening the door. It barely moved, like there was something heavy barricading the other side. I kept pushing on it, and it suddenly swung inward.

Napâttuk: …

Napâttuk: The… the inside was so dark, I didn’t see anything. But I knew that I was staring down into a chasm. I swear. The vertigo almost made me collapse. I jerked backward to avoid losing my balance and took a tumble down the steps of the porch. I was okay, but I still felt myself slipping. I had to cling to the ground to keep from falling into the house. There was nothing to grab onto, and I kept sliding back on the pine needles and loose soil. I slowly crawled my way back into the trees until I could stand. Then, I ran until I was back at my car.

Napâttuk: I told Tega about it, and she said it sounded like the Floating House stuff she’d read about. I had no idea. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, though. She’s much more online than I am. She really likes SCP and things like that. I’m not sure she fully believed me about the falling part, but she and some friends agreed to go back with me. I didn’t want to go too near it again. I just wanted it… reported, I guess.

Napâttuk: The thing is, we couldn’t even find the place where it was. It’s not a huge area. It made Tega more excited, but our friends were pretty annoyed to be dragged into the freezing woods for nothing. I was mortified. I knew where it was, we must have just been circling around it. I cut through another way, and when I turned around, Tega and the others were gone. I kept looking, until I saw that the sun was going down. They weren’t picking up their phones, they didn’t hear me calling them. I decided to just leave and see if they were waiting for me by the car. But then, I couldn’t find the treeline. The trees just went on and on and on. It got hot. I was hot even after I took off my parka. And then, I smelled smoke. It hung in the air all around me and got thicker until I couldn’t see. Ash came off of me in sheets as I waded through it like gritty snow. I couldn’t tell which way the bowl went anymore. I eventually felt something through the ash, but it was hard and flat like concrete. It hurt to walk on. I don’t know, it sounds crazy. I was tired and deprived of oxygen. I don’t remember getting to the road, but I woke up in the medical center in town. One of my neighbors had found me on their way home.

Napâttuk: Tega and the others had gone home without me, apparently? I asked them about what happened, but they wouldn’t talk about it. They keep saying they didn’t find the house, but I think they’re lying. They did say they saw the fire–there really was one. Nobody knows why. Heavy snowfall put it out before it did any real damage. It wasn’t where the house was, and there hasn’t been any word about people finding it. Nothing’s really happened since then, but I had to move to Alberta to get away from the smell of smoke.

Georgie: I see. Do Tega and your friends still live there?

Napâttuk: I’m not sure. They’re mostly her friends, and she and I don’t really talk anymore. The last couple times that we did, she was really agitated about something. I got the sense that we were losing touch because she was busy trying to deal with it. A few months ago, my mom told me she had gotten in trouble for stalking this guy who lived out by the water and had his lights off all the time. Only came out at night. Never had a flashlight. Walked with a cane. I just assumed he was a little blind and sunburned easily. He was always super friendly and chill. But I asked Tega about it, and she said he’d been accused of kidnapping when he lived in Sweden?? Like, kidnapped a whole lot of people??? What????? It’s messed up if it’s true, but then Tega got arrested trying to break into his house with an axe. I just–I can’t believe any of this is happening.

Napâttuk: A while ago, I dove into the Floating House forums to try to make sense of it. I made a bunch of posts about what happened, and people asked all kinds of questions. I was so relieved. I felt like I could actually talk to someone about it. I even put up the coordinates of where I’d seen the house. But lately, my mom says there’s been a lot more tourism at home, and I can’t help wondering if that has something to do with me. I don’t think you can even get to the bowl anymore. The road was closed after some kind of accident. She says people still park up there, though. I… I haven’t thought about going back there before, but… do you think I should?

Georgie: Wh–I–why do you ask?

Napâttuk: You’re the professional. I’m the one who opened it, so maybe I should close it.

Georgie: … I don’t know.

Napâttuk: That’s okay. Sorry… For all I know, it’s not even there anymore. Did you have any other questions?

Georgie: I did see that you took down the locations you’d posted.

Napâttuk: Yeah, it just. It made me nervous. But somebody else probably has them saved and put up somewhere.

Georgie: Hmm. You know, This kind of thing happens all the time. It blows over when something else interesting comes along. And honestly, a lot of these “sightings” are on pretty shaky ground. I wouldn’t worry.

Napâttuk: Right. You’re right.

Georgie: Okay, well, I think that’s about it. Thank you very much for coming on.

Napâttuk: Uh, yeah. No problem. Bye.

————

Prev

First

Whoa. Wow. I can’t believe it. That’s it. That’s the end.

I’ve had this fic slowly taking up more and more space in my head since 2020. And now, it’s fully out there! Spiraling off into the internet like the big crazy snake that it is.

I know the process was rocky, but I’m really glad I stuck it out all the way. I learned a whole lot, and I actually feel more sure that making comics is what I want to do than ever (while working out a more sustainable way to do it, of course).

And I’m really grateful to you, if you’ve read the entire thing or just a page. All the comments and reblogs and kind words have been really nice to hear and helped me keep going. Seriously, thank you.

Maybe have a look at my other stuff, if you’re so inclined.

Hoo... anyway.

I need a nap.

Bye. <3

Index

[imakemywings]

“Ah, and yonder, you may view the Fountain of the King,” said Turgon, pointing. His companion went on chewing at his sleeve and did not respond. “You will have passed it many times on your way into the palace, but is it not interesting to see it from a new perspective?”

            Eärendil kicked his feet, which reached just to the edge of the balcony railing. One firm hand on his chest kept him from going anywhere as Turgon point out this and that landmark that could be seen stretching out across Gondolin under the marbled blue sky.

            “You prefer a different one, perhaps? Lord Ecthelion maintains quite a few in the area around his home.” Turgon gestured in the direction of Lord Ecthelion’s estate. “Has Lady Idril taken you to see those as well? If not, we will have to remedy it!”

            At this note of firm enthusiasm in Turgon’s voice, Eärendil chirped, releasing the king’s sleeve from his gummy mouth at last, a wide wet mark left behind.

            “Yes, it may even be a matter of urgency,” Turgon agreed gravely. “We will attend our schedule and see if time allows for a field trip.” He scooped Eärendil up in one arm and brought him inside. Out of the chilly mountain air high up on the balcony, he removed Eärendil’s fur-lined coat to allow him better freedom of movement. None had been sure how Eärendil’s mortal blood might affect him, but thus far, Turgon had not found him overly different from most babies. He smiled, he laughed, he cried, he slept—he kept his parents up at all hours.

            When Idril returned for her son, he was bouncing on the king’s knee at his desk while Turgon penned some intra-city correspondence.

            “What’s this? Adar, I would not have taken you from your work for this,” Idril said. “You might have asked someone else to take him.”

            “Eärendil is assisting me with these letters,” Turgon insisted soberly, finishing his sentence before he looked to the baby and then to his own daughter. “He has proven a most useful discussant for deciding the most efficacious response.”

            Eärendil tipped backwards against Turgon, reaching up for one of the king’s dreadlocks, which he loved to pull, but Turgon gently dissuaded his grasping hand. Idril made a soft sound of amusement.

            “I should have foreseen you would put him to work!” she said, plucking the child from Turgon’s lap to settle him on her hip. “What a taskmaster you are, my lord!”

            “He will be an excellent addition to the king’s council shortly, I’m sure,” said Turgon.

            “I will pass the word on to Tuor,” she said with a wry smile. “Doubtless he will find the occasion worthy of commissioning another new outfit for Eärendil.” She gathered up Eärendil’s things scattered around Turgon’s office, choosing to leave one wooden duck on wheels, just in case Eärendil found himself there unexpectedly.

            “I am sorry I’ve been so busy lately,” Idril began, but Turgon waved a hand.

            “No trouble, Idril,” he said. “Please. It is always a pleasure to spend time with my grandson.” There was a hint of softness in her father’s usually stern face that assured her of his genuineness, and she smiled.

            “I’m very sure it’s mutual,” she said.

            “Ah, one item for you before you depart,” Turgon said, shuffling some parchment on his desk. “Eärendil tells me he hasn’t yet had a tour of Lord Ecthelion’s fountains. This must be remedied as soon as possible.” Idril suppressed a snort.

            “Yes, of course, my lord,” she said. “I will be certain to attend this with the urgency required.” Eärendil cooed and Idril bounced him in her arm.

            “Good. I trust you will.” Father and daughter exchanged matching half-smiles and Idril took her leave. The king gave Eärendil a little wave on his way out.

On AO3

[halloweenacara]

everyone so far! names & info under the cut

aske - halloween acara, he/they - horror artist & author, kinda the main character. he writes a horror-comedy comic, but his most famous work is a series of intense horror novels published under a pseudonym. he's secretly a huge scaredy-cat- unfortunate, given his housemates.

flora - mutant aisha, she/her - baker & activist. she runs a little bakery in the haunted woods that only employs other mutants. she's sweet as sugar, but you don't want to be on her bad side.

fossil - tyrannian elephante, he/him - anthropologist, museum curator, technically undead. he was found in a glacier on the border between tyrannia and terror mountain & revived. now, he has a special interest in tyrannian history, spending more time in the field than behind a desk. he will talk your ear off.

mu - burlap kau, he/they - fiber artist, gardener, ex-scarecrow. he used to live in a farm north of the haunted woods, then took himself off his stick and ran away. he sewed his legs himself, as he didn't have any originally, and has to fix them often. makes a lot of crochet plushies and blankets- stark contrast to the manor's otherwise spooky vibe.

pup - toy poogle, they/she - midi musician, streamer, sapient robot. they speak almost exclusively in internet memes and audio clips. she has a vast collection of expression stickers, one for every mood. recently, they've been visiting veknir's workshop every night…

maxie - ghost cybunny, she/her - tour guide/scam artist. she offers tours of the manor, even installing a little gift shop in the foyer. most of the 'haunted features' on the tour are fake. even if the others wanted her to leave (frankly, she's a rude, self-serving conwoman), she couldn't- she died in the manor. every time someone asks how she died she gives them a different story.

veknir - speckled grundo, he/him - alien, scientist, engineer. he keeps the manor running- repairing old appliances, fixing broken railing. of course, he did blow up the microwave trying to improve it. he crash-landed in the courtyard while fleeing someone and set up a workshop/lab in the basement. who knows what he gets up to down there? do we want to know?

alder - shadow skeith, she/her - groundskeeper. an intense individual, to say the least. she's been with the manor longer than anyone can recall. she mostly keeps to herself- she lives in a small cabin on the edge of the courtyard. she spends her time meticulously cleaning the tombstones, or lurking in the yard in the midst of heavy rain. aske is terrified of her.

rory - chocolate/halloween bori, he/it - some variety of candy-based creature. he only joined the group recently- previously he was known as the thing that howls and roars just past the fence line. he smells like candy corn and hot cocoa- apart from the bones, of course. those smell like death.

[guerrerense]

Comin' round the mountain por Kevin Madore Por Flickr: The Pioneer Tunnel Coal Mine train emerges from a dark tree-tunnel as it hauls a group of visitors around the north face of Mahanoy Mountain, heading back to the station in Ashland PA, after a tour of an abandoned strip mine. The 42" gauge railroad is perhaps the least-well-known steam operation in a state that boasts at least 10 of them. Although a couple of states may have more active steam locomotives, Pennsylvania probably has more individual steam rail lines than any other.

[tethysresort]

Inspired by a poll, everyone who follows me gets to look at a rock per day for the month of October! 

Day 29:  Today’s rock is a piece of greenstone from the Sutter Gold Mine in California!  Greenstone is an interesting sort of rock – the green comes from the minerals epidote and chlorite.  They are formed when basalts are put under heat and pressure in a subduction zone (like the Cascade Mountains or along the coast of Chile)!  The old subduction zone along the coast of California is long gone but the heat and pressure changed the rocks at the base of the Sierra Nevada (like the mariposite and serpentine from Days 11 and 8) and added gold! 

The Sutter Gold Mine is an active gold mine.  When I went it was years ago and the price of gold was too low for them to bother mining.  Greenstone is very hard, so even though there is vast amounts of gold in veins and pockets in the rocks, it costs a lot to mine there.  So instead they offered tours to keep the mine operational!  We wore safety gear and helmets and were given a whole safety lecture (don’t walk under the ductwork it’s rusted and might fall, don’t lean on any rails, stay with the group...) before going into the mine.  We walked through the damp dark, listening to the lecture on the mine’s history, and even got to see a gold vein that they had carefully cordoned off for us to see. 

When I asked if I could take a rock or two from the tailings pile, they shrugged and said, “The waste rock is in the tailings.  Take as much as you want.” 

Out of curiosity I checked, and the mine is operational again!  (I guess gold prices got high enough.)

[spacefinch]

So, what if the MSB gang are in Disneyland? What would they do?

Well...

Wanda enjoys all the rollercoaster rides (Thunder Mountain, Space Mountain, etc...). Also the Incredicoaster (formerly California Screaming) at California Adventure. However, Ralphie does not enjoy any of the rollercoasters, since they make him sick.

On the teacup ride:

Ralphie and Arnold: Just chilling in their teacup and moving slowly so not to get motion sickness

The other 6 kids: In a different teacup, spinning as fast as humanly possible, screaming.

Carlos's favorite rides are Thunder Mountain and the Jungle Cruise. He takes the latter as an opportunity to tell some of his best animal puns.

Phoebe spends a lot of time bird-watching. (Disneyland is a surprisingly good place to find birds.) Meanwhile, Ralphie photographs anything and everything. Sculptures, plants, characters in costume, you name it.

Tim convinces the whole class to attend one of the "How to draw a Disney Character" events at California Adventure.

I'm not sure how wheelchair-accessible Disneyland is, but I'm sure Mikey finds some way to make it work. Carlos (being the overprotective older brother that he is) insists on sitting next to Mikey for all the rides.

Arnold would be the person who does not like any rides that are in the dark, but eventually realizes they're not so bad.

D.A., Wanda, Carlos, Tim, Phoebe, and Ralphie all go on the Millennium Falcon ride at Star Wars land. Wanda is the pilot (obviously), alongside D.A.. They nearly crash the ship because they spend more time arguing than flying.

And of course, the whole class goes on Star Tours. One of them (probably Ralphie or Keesha) is the rebel spy.

Of course they get Dole Whips. You kind of have to when you're at a Disney park.

D.A. brings a ton of books to read while waiting in line (never mind that everyone told her to pack light).

The other kids play games like 20 Questions and playground hand games while they wait in line.

Carlos has made it his mission to find every ride line with a fence railing and sit on the railing.

Somehow Tim gets up into one of the ornamental trees.

The crew stays for the fireworks and other evening light shows (although by then, most of them are very tired).

[nnateywriting]

SNOWPOINT SLOWDANCING

words: 1.4k pairing: reguri , originalshipping, namelessshipping link: ao3 my ko-fi if you enjoyed :D description: red and green are on vacation in snowpoint city, and green decides they should have a little treat.

Reclining back in his chair, Green groaned as his eyes peered outside toward the blankets of snow covering the ground. Going to a climate that reminded him of what he deemed as a 'much lamer time' of his life. He shifts his head a bit to the right, comfortably, and his eyes adjust from the whiteness of the snow onto the figure of his partner. Beside him, Red sat in a seat closer to the window, staring outside while watching two Pachirisu playing in the snow with thoughtful eyes as Green wondered what could be going through his head. In his hands, Red's thumbs grazed against the bill of a long worn-out red and white cap. It didn't take much to assume he was also thinking back to that 'much lamer time'. Maybe renting a cabin in Snowpoint City wasn't an incredible idea in retrospect, but during their extended honeymooning tour around the regions they had reserved Sinnoh for one of the latter regions on their list. 

Green didn't like thinking about that period of his life much, but the part after it seemed worth it. After climbing down from the 'lame mountain', Red spent a good while recovering from the climate change and the way the world around him had changed as well. It turned out, in the years Red had been isolated atop Mt. Silver, the world had changed quite a bit and so had the people he knew. The one constant, yet the biggest change of all, was Green. Green, though his initial reunion with Red had been a cocktail of emotions he had kept tightly bottled for years, had welcomed Red back grandly with a punch to the shoulder and a very warm hug followed by a very wet face from crying. However if anyone had asked back then, Green would tell them he simply punched Red.

That time felt very distant compared to now and the matching rings adorn their fingers; the golden bands bridging in the middle to cradle the prongs of amethyst stones, a gallery rail hoisting the beautiful stone. Green wore it proudly, flaunting it as both a testament to his dedication over the years to his favorite hardheaded rival and also because he was simply a proud husband. Despite the years it had been since their marriage, Green still couldn't help himself from fondly staring at his ring and how perfectly it matched with Red's. 

"Y'know, I'm pretty hungry." Green finally broke the silence between them, Red breaking his gaze outside and turning his head to face him. "Let's make a cake or something."

Red smiled softly, standing up as Green did. His expression spoke for him: 'Do we even have enough eggs after breakfast?'

Green scoffed. "Of course we do! And you know I'm a baking professional."

Red stretched his hands and Green rolled his eyes preemptively. 'A few lessons in Kalos don't count.' 

"Whatever!" Green smiled fondly as he turned away, heading toward the kitcken of their rental cabin. "Hand me some eggs."

Red walked towards the kitchen behind Green, opening the fridge and pulling out the eggs. He also pulled out their little jug of milk as he heard Green rustling through a pile of dishes in a cabinet to find a pan and a bowl. 

Red's Pikachu waddled into the room, hopping onto the counter and curling into a comfortable position. In another room, Red and Green had released some of their smaller Pokemon partners inside to sleep, while the larger Pokemon stayed in Pokeballs that were warmly tucked into blankets. They weren't sure if this helped them stay warm, but a Charizard and a Blastoise certainly couldn't fit comfortably inside the house, and Red didn't want to pay for any damages.

Placing the pan onto the counter, Green slung open a pair of cabinets in search of flour, triumphantly slamming the sack onto the counter in a plume of white. Green doesn't have to turn his head to know Red is covered in flour as well. "Geez, Red, I'm sor-" His apology is quickly cut off by the plap of Red's flour-filled hands smearing a handful of flour onto his shirt with a silent satisfaction and a mischeivous smirk.

"Dude! I got this in Alola!" Green pretended to be angry, though he was always thoroughly impressed every time by Red's specific flavor of humor. With a humph, Green scooped a palm's worth of flour and smacked it into Red's chest, watching it plume upwards and into Red's face to add a layer to his coating. Green laughed at Red's unamused stare. "Okay big guy, we gotta clean this up before we get too carried away."

Red nods, turning away with a wide smile on his face. Nobody in all of the world could make him smile like Green could. The two spent a while cleaning up their mess, carefully making sure to pull out the ingredients with a delicacy instead of whamming it into things any further. Mixing the remaining ingredients they needed based off a recipe Green had on his Rotom phone, Red dons a pair of pink oven mitts they had found and slips the pan into the oven. Red makes sure to set the timer before wandering off to find Green. Green stood in the living room area, pushing furniture away from the center of the room a bit in preparation of something.

'What are you doing?' reads Red's expression as his head tilts to the side curiously. 

"I found a radio. I think the least you could owe me is a dance after all the trouble I'm going to be going through with a dry cleaner." Green smiled. He found the button to turn the radio on, tuning it to the local Pokemon Music Channel. The current song playing sounded like a slow song. Placing the radio down, Green closed his eyes began to dance alone, his arms extending out to dance with an invisible partner. Cracking one eye open after a few steps, he looked towards Red, as if the prospect of him dancing alone was supposed to make the other jealous.

Red smiles back, signing: 'You look dumb.'

Green rolls his eyes, holding out a hand. " Shut up. Can you just dance with me?" 

Red obliges with a small bow, taking his hand and pulling Green closer. With an arm around Green's waist, Red takes the lead swiftly. Green wraps his arm around Red, relishing in each other's warmth as they moved along to the rhythm. The dance, slow and steady, felt very appropriate to describe how the two had come to be together in this intimate way. They were a little slow getting to this point, and yet despite all of the odds they had made it. They both felt vastly different about some places in their relationship together, but both would agree that they wouldn't have changed a single thing. Their dance spans several songs, though their focus is not on the music, but on the feeling of each other.

Suddenly, Red pushes Green away with his fingers still interlocked against Green's own digits, pulling him back with a little twirl. His arm firms itself underneath the lower part of Green's back, slowly lowering him and allow his knees to bend comfortably along with his body into a dipped position. Red closes the new distance with a gentle kiss, holding his husband tightly against him. The kiss parts for only a moment before returning; their kisses gradually soften from a long, unbroken kiss of passion into several little kisses, the final kiss parting with their smiles pressed against each other. 

"I love you, Red." Green whispers, his eyes staring into the gentle eyes of his beloved. "I love you so much."

Red opens his mouth to reply, a move that makes Green's heart flutter, but is quickly cut off by the sound of the oven beeping. Clearing his throat, Red carefully adjusts himself and Green back into standing positions. Pulling out the cake, Red places a plate on top, flipping it with the pan into an upside down position. The cake smoothly falls out onto the plate, and Red smugly places it onto the counter.

The two decorate the cake with white icing covering it, and two red and green hearts messily piped onto the top by Green, who made the icing quickly with confectioner sugar, a little dye, and a lot of enthusiasm for piping them. 

Taking out a knife, Red cuts two pieces out of the cake and plops them onto plates, taking them into the living room. He sits in his seat by the window once again, but his attention is drawn to Green instead of outside toward the bitter and cold memories of the past. 

"I love cake," Green begins, taking his fork and plucking off a little bite-sized piece, "but I love us so much more."