#blinding corona

[furbyevils]

[AVAILABLE]

Hey guys!! I'm looking to trade one silly Series 1 Ouiouis for the last Series X Ouiouis I'm missing :3

I have the lil Lemon left!

[W] : Blinding Corona (Sun)

Please message me here, Discord, or on Twitter if you're interested!

I can also add artwork if you're interested! I can provide examples (most are Toontown related haha)

[jackdraw-spwrite]

Star Nursery

Words: 4660 Characters: Clockwork, Danny Warnings: None Also on AO3

Sometimes, the timeline needs a little nudge to get things going in the right direction. And sometimes, it needs more than one. At least, that's why Clockwork tells himself he's showing Daniel the stars.

---

The room was dark when Clockwork appeared. Around him, dark shapes were distinguishable only by a night light, by Clockwork's own glow, and by the window, blinds open to a snowy December night. Lit by the neon sign out front, the flakes drifted down outside like falling stars.

The soft silence of the snowstorm would have swaddled the room, if not for the muted rises and falls of voices one floor below. Though the sound was dampened, the cadence was that of an argument. Occasionally, snatches of it survived the smearing effect of the walls. A careful listener could probably discern the topic.

Clockwork didn't care.

He focused instead on the bundle in the crib. Daniel was tiny, his hair fluffy on his head. One hand was curled into a fist, impossibly small. 

He was sleeping soundly. 

Read the rest on AO3, or below the readmore:

There was a thump loud enough to rattle the walls. The argument fell silent.

Daniel had been sleeping soundly, at least. He shifted, grimaced, and prepared to scream at the interruption to his nap.

Before he could, Clockwork picked him up.

"Hello, Daniel," he murmured. He pulled Daniel to his chest, rocking him gently to soothe him.

After a moment, he added, "Daniel, I have something to show you."

Mistily, the baby’s eyes opened, focusing on Clockwork. Too young to know fear at a stranger's face, he reached clumsily for his hair.

Clockwork gave him his index finger instead. Daniel wrapped both his tiny hands around it. Eyes wide, he studied it a moment and then pulled it towards his mouth.

"Yes, I am fascinating, I know,” said Clockwork, as Daniel gnawed on his glove. “But you'll like this much better."

He held out a hand and a circle of blue swirled to life at his fingertips. He carried Daniel through the portal, and–

—

"Look," said Clockwork, and directed the child's vision.

Daniel's eyes grew wide, and he reached out a hand as if to grab at what he saw.

Above, below, and everywhere around them was the inky void of space studded with countless stars. In an immense cascade of light, a great strip of them split the sky in two.

Each and every star seemed to hold hints of a different color, a sincillating rainbow of red to blue. They varied in brightness and as the moments passed they seemed almost to dance among themselves.

No, they were dancing. In a slow waltz, the brightest points of light sped past the dimmer, stars exchanging places with one another in a dizzying spectacle: a mobile to put all others to shame.

Daniel stared, transfixed, and did not look away until sleep weighed his eyes closed.

—

"Daniel, I have a present for you," murmured Clockwork, nudging the two-year-old awake.

Blearily, he squinted at Clockwork. His serious expression lent him a gravity that was entirely undone by his chubby cheeks and the incredible cowlick rising from the back of his head. 

Clockwork didn't let his amusement show, instead letting Daniel wake at his own pace. He'd been showing up long enough and often enough that Daniel would recognize him.

After a moment, he was rewarded by Daniel widening his eyes and twisting to get a good look at their surroundings.

Already wide, his eyes grew even wider.

Beneath them, the rings of Saturn stretched like an immense road. The stars were cradling the pair of them, solid and steady.

And beside them loomed the immense bulk of Saturn itself, banded and pale and breathtaking, crowned by a circlet of glowing blue.

Danny squealed in delight, wiggling to be set down. Instead, Clockwork let go--

—

--and Danny giggled, hair floating free in a halo that glowed in the light of the binary suns behind him and for a moment, it was as though he had his own corona.

At Clockwork's back was a tiny, frigid planet coated in a filigree of white.

He smiled and reached out to catch Danny's hand.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Danny nodded.

—

Clockwork had shown Daniel many, many planets by now. The one below them was dark and small, but growing. Every few moments, impacts spiderwebbed out into tiny red lines that faded just as quickly.

The planet's star hung to the side, close enough that it resembled a coin instead of a point of light. 

"Daniel, do you know which planet this is?"

He shook his head. His hair twisted gently in the low gravity, like seagrass.

Clockwork smiled and said, "Watch."

At just the right moment, he pulled their progress through time from blistering speed to something far closer to real time and pointedly looked at a particular point in the stars around them.

Daniel followed suit.

It started as a pinprick of light just barely brighter than the backdrop. And in slow motion, the shadow of an asteroid grew from it. It grew from a pinprick to a coin, and grew again until it loomed enormous before them, and before the infant planet. So close, it was easy to see that it was rounded by the strength of its own gravity; a planetary mass in its own right.

And then it struck.

Even so early in the existence of this solar system, the gas surrounding the planet wasn't thick enough to carry sound. But the impact before them kindled to a blaze so bright it had a roar of its own.

Time for them may have been allowed, but it was still significantly faster than real time, so in the hours that followed, the cataclysm unfolded before them like a dancer’s skirts.

The planet deformed terribly, countless flakes of it crumbling away or rippling outwards, away from the impact site. Yet more were flung outwards in a cloud of cosmic debris. And then, finally, the paired masses began to pull apart again, taffy-like.

Slowly, the masses separated. The furiously flowing bridge between them cooled and broke apart, pieces beginning a slow fall back to the planet where they splashed back into the gaping wound of the impact. The planet’s new moon lingered nearby, just as disfigured. The glow from its scar was bright enough to wash away the stark shadows of space on its dark side, and the molten rock shimmered like an angry burn.

Slowly, they dimmed. First to orange, then red, then just a hint of it brushing the edge of the visible spectrum like a slumbering giant just out of sight.

Shadows returned. 

By the time Danny's eyes grew heavy with sleep again, the smaller of the two objects was round and gray in the light of the star.

He'd rested his head against Clockwork's shoulder as he watched, and now Clockwork bent his head to ask him, "Do you know now?"

Danny shook his head, looking up with sleepy eyes.

"It's Earth. Your home."

—

"This is what a nebula looks like from the inside."

Around them, the stars seemed almost to trail veils. Or, to decorate them like gems.

"They're also known as star nurseries."

"Star Nusr'y"

"That's right, Daniel," Clockwork said. He combed a hand through Daniel’s hair. "Isn't it pretty?"

One finger in his mouth, Daniel nodded fervently.

—

The moment they appeared through the portal, Clockwork spread an ectoplasmic construct beneath them before letting Daniel down. 

He swirled his cloak from his shoulders and spread it out before settling atop it in a coil. He patted the spot beside him and Daniel turned from where he was peering at the ground and half-floated, half-stumbled over. 

The gravity where they were was odd, partway between Earth's surface gravity and the absence of it. In it, Daniel was adorably clumsy.

Clockwork hid his amusement in his smile. Daniel was three – "And a haff," he'd insist, stubby fingers held up to emphasize the point – and very serious. He wouldn't take it well if he thought Clockwork was laughing at him. 

Clockwork offered his arm as an anchor as Daniel settled beside him, and pulled him close once he was seated. Daniel's little hand grabbed hold of Clockwork's tunic, and Clockwork felt a surge of fondness. He'd watched it grow from a hand that could barely grasp his finger, and yet like the rest of him it was still so very small. 

He spent a space of breaths savoring the contact.

"Well Daniel,” he said at last, “do you know where we are?" 

From the shelter of Clockwork's arm, Daniel looked up and shook his head. 

"Do you want a hint?" offered Clockwork. 

A nod.

Daniel wasn't in a particularly talkative mood yet. Clockwork had woken him only minutes before; he was still fuzzy from sleep.

And in other ways. His hair wasn't quite so unruly here as it was in zero gravity, but it still stuck up at odd angles. In places, it puffed out like the down of a baby bird.

"You should be able to recognize where we are," said Clockwork. "Not here specifically, but the colors and landscape should remind you of somewhere you've seen before." 

"'peficaly," muttered Daniel, and scrunched his face into a grave frown. 

Clockwork filed the sight away, then did the same with the heartache. He still had a little time. 

.

Daniel had decided he wanted another, more careful look at the landscape beneath them. He was smushing his face into the platform in his focus, and muttered softly to himself as he puzzled out where they were. 

Clockwork felt a smile wrinkle the corners of his eyes and kept quiet. The landscape beneath them was distant, he thought, but recog nizable. With only the dark of space to compare it with, the land was pale. It was craggy, too, and dotted with countless craters.

He wanted this night to be memorable for Daniel for more reasons than the conversation they would have, and Daniel had longed for this sight for as long as he'd been able to form sentences. 

He would piece together the clues.

Had pieced them together. He scrambled onto all fours and whipped his head to look at Clockwork. His eyes were huge and shining. 

"The Moon?!" 

After a teasing moment to let Daniel’s anticipation build, Clockwork nodded. 

Impossibly, Daniel’s eyes grew even larger. The emotion radiating off him built like a volcano until Clockwork could imagine it humming under his skin. 

The squeal of excitement that erupted would have been deafening if Clockwork hadn't anticipated it. Still, he was glad the volume cut significantly as Daniel slammed himself back down onto their platform and continued to yell his delight directly into it. Or tried to, at least. With the reduced gravity what he managed was more of a float. 

Clockwork chuckled and settled in to watch his little boy try to expel more excitement than he could physically contain. It would be a while before the excitement died down, and Clockwork intended to savor every moment. 

.

Clockwork stroked one hand through Daniel's fluff. With his other, he pointed to features on the moon's surface. They were overlooking the far side of the moon, and though Daniel had spent much time looking at maps of both sides, the low angle was contorting even landmarks from satellite images into something more earthly.

With each feature explained in terms he could understand, Daniel made appreciative little oohs and ahs. Even at three (and a half) his attention for all things space outstripped all other topics. Clockwork was grateful for it: each crater, peak, and exposed basalt plain meant another scrap of time like this.

…

He was putting off the conversation they needed to have.

He knew that.

It didn't make it easier to stop. 

Clockwork had the power to slow time, and to stop it. If anyone could, Clockwork was the ghost who could hold onto a moment forever. A ghost did not gain power like that without wanting it, without needing it as a human needed air.

Clockwork held a reputation as cool and reserved. As almost uncaring in his distance. As impersonal as a mountain river, and just as cold.

Clockwork was reserved. Clockwork was distant. He had to be, because he was also deeply, terribly, cruelly sentimental. He loved as a river ran: swiftly, deeply, ceaselessly. 

He loved Daniel.

He knew that soon they would part, and so soon was not happening.

Outside their little bubble, the world was frozen. 

But while Clockwork had gained his powers over time from sentimentality, he'd mastered them with discipline. He steeled his resolve. 

"Daniel," he began, "there is something I should tell you." 

Not want. He did not want this. Nor must. He could avoid this conversation. But for Daniel… 

For Daniel's sake, he would have it. 

Daniel looked up, floppy contentment draining from his limbs. 

"Cl’work?" he said, slurring the first half like he hadn't done since he’d mastered Clockwork’s name. His eyebrows furrowed as he pulled himself to his knees. 

Clockwork had planned this conversation. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he'd charted it, tracking the best paths through a multitude of futures. His sight had shown him how Daniel might or might not react with every spoken turn.

What it had not shown him was the grief like lead in his chest. 

He took one of Daniel's hands in his. It was so small. 

And yet. 

It felt like there was something stuck in his gears. But his ticking was regular. His pendulum’s sway was familiar. He was functioning.

And yet.

Had he been human, Clockwork would have wet his lips. He was tempted to do so anyway. Just a fraction more time…

He was deviating from his script.

“You’ve grown in these past few years,” he started. Saying so felt comical, with Daniel’s hand still so tiny in his own.

“I already knew that,” said Daniel, wrinkling his nose.

“Of course you did,” said Clockwork. “You’ve been there for all of it.” Was his voice thick? Could Daniel tell?

Footing lost, he opened his mouth to continue.

I’m leaving was too heavy to leave his lips. As was, We will have to say goodbye soon.

I love you felt feather-light on his tongue. He stayed it for other reasons. To say such to Daniel shortly before vanishing–he was cruel. He liked to pretend he was not that cruel.

“You’re growing up,” Clockwork said. It was not in the script.

“Oh,” said Daniel. His voice was small.

Even with such a small deviation, the timelines were starting to shift and sprout new branches. It caught Clockwork off guard. He found himself surrounded by a sensation of space, vast like their surroundings.

Adrift.

The possibilities here…

No. He needed to stay focused.

“‘r you gonna say,” Daniel’s tone shifted to mimicry, “A Fenton isn’t scareded of anything and. ‘m too smart not to start early or the other kids wouldn’t havva chance an’. It’s only acoupla hours anyway?”

The sentence had been too long for Daniel to manage at once, full of awkward pauses and trailing sounds as he lost his breath and found his words. But the point of it was clear, regardless.

“Your parents told you that,” Clockwork said. It wasn’t a question, but it would let Daniel follow the conversation.

Daniel nodded, looking down so his hair fell over his eyes.

Clockwork hummed. Daniel was three, nearing four. It would be some time into the school year before he turned four, so registering him for preschool was unusual. A more common choice at his age would be daycare, but with his parents’ rock-solid belief in Daniel’s intelligence…

Daniel was looking up through his hair at Clockwork.

His core ached.

The parenting books had said that children of preschool age would feel afraid of starting preschool for a number of reasons. They did not say what children of Daniel’s age would be afraid of, starting preschool.

“And you would like me to say something as well?”

A nod.

He pulled Daniel into a gentle hug, and ran a hand through Daniel’s hair. It was the same motion he’d long used as Daniel fell asleep watching the stars around them. It should be soothing.

Softly, he asked, “Can you tell me what you’re worried about?”

Daniel ducked his head and muttered something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“Jazzy’s got friends.”

This was not all Daniel would say. Clockwork waited.

Daniel had grabbed hold of Clockwork’s cloak. Now he twisted it in his hands. Contemplative. Fretful.

“What if,” he said. “What if.”

Clockwork tugged their hug a little bit tighter. “I see.”

And Daniel relaxed, head falling against the pane in Clockwork’s chest. He could feel it, warm and solid, hair feathering against the glass. It tickled, a bit.

“You’re worried you won’t make friends?”

Daniel nodded.

In the timelines he’d so meticulously navigated before bringing him here, Daniel had made them. Though the timelines were spiraling and blending around them now, Clockwork had little doubt that was still the case. For all his youth compared to his classmates, Daniel was a bright and friendly child.

For a moment, Clockwork considered telling Daniel that his fears were groundless. But. For all that this was an unexpected conversation, it was not an unforeseen one. Clockwork had expected to steer around it with Daniel none the worse for its lack. But he’d done his research. The paths through this conversation had been sparse at first: Clockwork could only consider paths one of the participants might take, and he hadn’t known to consider some options put forward in the parenting books.

He was the ghost of time, not parenting.

Do not minimize, the books had said. Do not dismiss. Acknowledge the fear. Saying that there is nothing to fear, that they will succeed may not alleviate their fear, only pile fear of disappointing you atop their fear of rejection.

They’d gone on to list other fears a child could have, starting preschool.

Separation anxiety…

Clockwork tugged his thoughts from the path with a twinge of guilt. Neither he nor Daniel’s parents gave enough attention to him for that. Regardless, the shape of his reassurance was clear enough.

He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze and selected a response. “Ah. A whole new group of children your age, and you don't know how well you'll get along with them.”

Daniel said nothing to that. Instead, he kept his head leaning against Clockwork’s chest, soft breaths misting the glass.

“Maybe it won't be all new faces. Have you seen children your age at the park?” He had, Clockwork knew.

Daniel nodded again.

“Did they play with you?”

Another nod.

Not every child had. Some had parents who were leery of the elder Fentons. But others encouraged their children to play with Jasmine and Daniel. Clockwork could not say the reason–he could not read minds, after all. But he could guess they were the same.

“If they go to the same park and are only a little older,” said Clockwork, “they may be in your class. So maybe it won’t be only new children. Does that sound a little less scary?”

Still quiet, Daniel nodded.

In all, about five of Daniel’s classmates would be children he’d played with before. Not that he should tell Daniel that precise figure. This was enough. Any human could have guessed what he’d said aloud.

Clockwork should pull the conversation to what he needed to say. To what needed to be said.

But if Daniel was content to rest his head against Clockwork’s chest awhile, then perhaps it could wait.

Just a little longer…

.

But all things must come to an end.

Clockwork shifted, and pulled his hand from where he’d been using it to cradle Daniel's head against his chest.

Sleepily, Daniel murmured in confusion before bringing one fist up to rub at his eye.

“Cl’wrk?”

It was time. The anticipatory grief in his chest found an echo outside the bubble. Slowly, in shudders, time was beginning to move on.

“Daniel, I brought you here because I have something to tell you.”

Daniel peered at him, suddenly tentative.

The rest of this conversation would be so very difficult.

“Daniel,” Clockwork began. Haltingly.

It would be so very easy to lie.

…

He was looking at Daniel’s hands. He should at least look him in the eye. He dragged his eyes up.

Daniel’s eyes were so very blue.

“I–” love you, he wanted to say. He mustn’t. 

He forced himself to say what came next.

“I am not going to be able to visit you much longer.”

And there was the shock Clockwork had so dreaded.

And there were the tears.

.

Eventually, the tears slowed.

The repeated “no no nos” had too, and Clockwork was left with a wet shirt, a little limpet gripping the fabric of it so tightly his fingers quaked, and a guilt he adamantly ignored.

This was for the best.

He was holding Daniel close, of course. Stroking his back to calm him and humming soothing nothings. It was–It wouldn’t matter if Daniel knew how much Clockwork regretted this. He would forget it anyway. Clockwork could grant himself the indulgence of being kind.

It was nothing to all the other indulgences he’d already taken, with his child. All the other sights. The joy on his face at some new wonder–

Daniel hiccupped.

“We have a month,” offered Clockwork, moving his hand to muss Daniel’s hair. “Two more trips like this.”

“‘ree.”

“Hm?”

“Three,” bargained Daniel. His voice was muffled by Clockwork’s shoulder.

“Two,” said Clockwork, biting back more regret. “One for a bad day, and one for goodbye.”

“Today’s bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Daniel tensed in his arms, and Clockwork closed his eyes. Of course he didn’t believe him. Of course he was angry. Why should he be anything else?

Clockwork sighed. “I’ve visited you far too often in the past few years. I want you to know you can handle a few weeks without a visit before we say goodbye.”

At that, Daniel was silent. Clockwork let him be, instead savoring the feel of Daniel’s weight against his chest, even if he was angry. What he would give to have it longer.

But he already had.

Clockwork pinched his eyes shut.

“What if I can’t?" Daniel asked.

“I think you may surprise yourself."

Daniel frowned.

“But if you can’t, you’ll have my help.” He gave Daniel a reassuring squeeze. “We can figure it out together.”

In this, Clockwork felt no guilt in the untruth. Daniel would never need his help, so what might happen if he did was immaterial. Irrelevant.

“And besides, you have your parents and sister.”

“Jazzy’s baw, baws.” Danny began, stumbling over the second word before abandoning it entirely. “Jazzy’s mean.”

“But she makes sure you’re safe, doesn’t she?”

“I guess.” and then Daniel clutched harder at Clockwork’s shirt. “But I want you.”

“You have your parents, too.”

“Want you.” Daniel’s voice was higher now, and plaintive. On the verge of tears.

I want you, too.

“I only show you the stars,” said Clockwork. “Your parents do much more than that. Your sister, too. In a few years you won’t even remember me.”

“I will!”

“It will be kinder to forget, little star.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“You will.”

Daniel was silent for a time. Then, barely a whisper: “I love you.”

Clockwork’s hug squeezed tighter. Fiercely, briefly. Like if he bundled everything he wanted, everything he felt into the action, then Daniel would understand.

I love you, too.

.

Clockwork tucked Daniel in.

He adjusted the covers. He wiped the tear-tracks from Daniel’s cheeks. But the frown still marring Daniel’s face could not be fixed so easily.

It could. All he had to do was–

Core twisting cruelly in his chest, Clockwork stroked his hand through Daniel’s fluffy mess of hair before backing away.

Daniel had refused to give up the idea that he would remember Clockwork, doubling down and insisting and insisting until.

It wouldn’t matter.

Clockwork had let him fall asleep in his arms.

It wouldn’t matter.

Daniel would forget him.

With a swirl of blue, Clockwork vanished.

—

Daniel launched himself at Clockwork with a wail. Clockwork closed his arms around him in a hug, letting his child cling to him as he sobbed in great, wracking heaves that should have consumed all the air in his lungs. They did not die down quickly. For long minutes he alternated sobs with shuddering gasps and for longer still he just tucked his head against Clockwork’s shoulder and whimpered.

Clockwork swayed, watching the expanse around them. It was a simple scene, tonight. Nothing new. Just Clockwork, and Daniel, and the familiar stars of the Milky Way from Sol’s neighborhood, only a few years distant.

As simple and humble as a scene like this could be.

Tonight, he wanted Daniel to find comfort in familiarity rather than distraction in the novel.

He was still sniffling.

Clockwork coiled his tail into a lap and set Daniel in it.

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked..

—

Clockwork hitched Daniel up on his hip, and pointed. He was leaning his head a little against Daniel’s, letting his cheek rest on Daniel’s crown where his hand was not. 

"Do you see over there?"

Danny squinted. "Yeah."

"Just watch that spot."

Clockwork had pointed to a patch in the sea of stars surrounding them which seemed veiled by a shadow. Daniel’s eyes trailed uncertainly over the area, back and forth, back and forth.

Clockwork smiled to himself, savoring the bittersweet loss on his tongue. 

Only eleven years. An eyeblink, to Clockwork. Thousands of times that period were unspooling before them every instant as he drew time along for Daniel like film across a movie projector. At his age he'd never have the patience for these wonders otherwise. 

But only eleven years without Daniel carried a different weight, didn't it? Lonely, in an empty tower filled only with visions of his child, come home at last. Visions, for all they would feel like memories.

Eleven whole years indeed. 

As they waited, the stars behind the veil flickered a little, rippling in brilliance as the clouds of gasses in front of them gathered. As they built on themselves, thicker and thicker. The formation of a protostar was a quiet sort of spectacle, like this. Just the sort to put an exhausted young child to sleep. Just enough to fill his dreams with wonders of a similar kind. 

Clockwork hoped.

For all his sight, he wasn't able to see them.

He held Daniel close, and let the hours trail smooth across mental fingertips. Slowly, as Daniel must still have counted it, there came a flickering glow that strengthened into brilliant yellow. Even so, he watched it with the rapt attention which had so captured Clockwork’s mechanical heart. 

Eleven years. 

Clockwork slowed the play of time. Just a fraction. Just enough for a little more time. But of course, there was one thing he couldn’t control here.

One little boy.

Daniel’s eyelids were drooping, his breaths lengthening. Every few moments he would jerk one awake, or twitch. He was fighting so very fiercely to stay awake. But it was a losing battle.

His head dipped to his chest, once, twice, thrice and didn’t lift back up. 

Clockwork looked down at him, a fond smile playing on his lips.

He’d fallen asleep holding Clockwork's hand.

A few stolen moments of indecision later – could he wake Daniel to show him one last sight? Should he? – a portal swirled open before them, and Clockwork left Sol's earliest years with Daniel in his arms.

In his bedroom, stars and space paraphernalia cluttered every surface.

Silently, Clockwork raised the comforter on the bed, slipped Daniel beneath the sheets. When Clockwork wrested his hand from Daniel’s grip and tucked him in, his brows furrowed at the loss.

Clockwork ruffled Daniel's hair for the last time in more than a decade, and leaned down to murmur into his ear.

"Until we meet again, Daniel. Be good."

There was a flash of blue.

And then, the room was dark.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Weather

Bombogenesis and bomb cyclone - A bombogenesis is “the process that occurs during a 24-hour period when the atmospheric pressure of an extratropical cyclone drops with enough intensity to produce explosive cyclogenesis.” The central barometric pressure drops quickly, producing hurricane-force winds and heavy snow or rainfall—like 77 inches worth of snow in one day. Nor’easters often undergo bombogenesis as cold winds from the north mix with warmer ocean water from the south, creating a big temperature range. These “weather bombs” or bomb cyclones can become blizzards when the conditions are just right. These bombs happen mostly in the fall and winter, but they aren’t unheard of during other times of the year.

Crepuscular ray - A twilight ray of sunlight shining through breaks in high clouds and illuminating dust particles in the air.

Derecho - A widespread and severe windstorm that moves rapidly along a fairly straight path, and it is associated with bands of rapidly moving thunderstorms. In some instances, the media will refer to derechos as "inland hurricanes".

Frazil - “Ice crystals formed in turbulent water, as in swift streams or rough seas.” However, frazil can also form in lakes and oceans; it is the start of sea ice. Frazil usually forms on very clear nights with very low temperatures.

Gloriole - “A halo, nimbus, or aureole.” When ice crystals are suspended in the atmosphere, light catches them causing a bright halo or even a rainbow around the sun or moon. The gloriole forms 22 degrees away from the center of the object, but this phenomenon can often be confused with coronas that form due to water droplets.

Graupel - A type of precipitation that is formed when really cold water droplets collect, freeze, and fall on snowflakes. This creates what is known as a ball of rime, which is “an opaque coating of tiny, white, granular ice particles.”

Haboob - “A thick dust storm or sandstorm that blows in the deserts of North Africa and Arabia or on the plains of India.” Haboob’s dust-storm cousin also hits the United States—just ask anyone who lives in Phoenix. These dust storms usually occur during or as a result of a thunderstorm.

Hunch weather - This term dates back to the 1700s; drizzle or winds that are strong enough to make you hunch over when you walk.

Monkey's wedding - Sunshine and rain at the same time; also known to be called sun showers. However, in South Africa, a “sun shower” is also known as a monkey’s wedding.

Moonbroch - A large halo around the moon; it is a sign of an approaching storm. A broch is an old term for a Scottish circular stone tower.

Petrichor - The distinct scent of rain in the air. More precisely, it’s the name of an oil that’s released from the earth into the air before rain begins to fall.

Polar vortex - A massive whirlpool of cold air that hovers above Earth’s North and South poles. During the warm months, the vortex shrinks toward the poles and generally stays out of our hair, which is nice. During the winter though, the vortex’s boundary—a narrow band of fast air called the polar front jet stream—expands, dipping toward the equator and dumping frigid weather onto any unsuspecting towns (or commuters) in its path.

Sastruga - (Sastrugi in the plural form) means “ridges of snow formed on a snowfield by the action of the wind.”

Smuir - “A thick atmosphere, a dense enveloping cloud or swirl of smoke, snow, rain, or mist.” Alternatively, a blind smuir is merely a snowdrift.

Snow - The partially frozen water vapor which falls in flakes.

Snow eater - When there’s snow everywhere. But, all of a sudden, a nice warm breeze blows over the snow and melts it all away. This usually happens in the Rockies.

Snow flurries - Light, intermittent snowfall without significant accumulation; tend to come from stratiform clouds.

Snow showers - A short period of light-to-moderate snowfall, also characterized by a sudden beginning and ending. There is some accumulation with snow showers, and they fall from convective or cumuliform clouds.

Snow squall - A heavy snow shower with strong winds.

Sugar weather - In Canada, when they have nice warm days but chilly nights, that’s known as sugar weather. That type of weather is just right for getting the maple syrup running in the maple trees.

Swullocking - Hot, sticky, humid weather during the summer; humid weather.

Thundersnow - When snow is the primary form of precipitation in a thunderstorm (instead of rain).

Virga - The virga phenomenon is when you can see that it is raining, but it evaporates on the way to the ground and ends up changing back to water vapor before you can feel it. When it rains and the rain actually makes it to the ground, there’s a meteorological word for that, too: praecipitatio.

Williwaw - A violent squall that blows in near-polar latitudes, as in the Strait of Magellan, Alaska, and the Aleutian Islands.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: On Weather ⚜ Calm & Stormy ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Under the soft glow of the purple Halloween lights, Danny is sweet to you like he always is. || Sequel to Kitkat and Honeyglow

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 2.4k | Warnings: drinking, smoking, mentions of wacky tobaccy, me not knowing anything actually about tarot cards (sorry)

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @spark-my-nature and go look lovingly upon this Kitkat 'verse Danny fanart she made that made me cry!!! Every Danny and Kitkat fic is dedicated especially to Miranda now :) I have at least one more fic for these two sweeties up my sleeve this spooky season, and I hope you like this short little fic! ♡

“Damn, Jake, how much tequila did you put in this?”

Jake laughed when you winced after the first sip of your drink, clinking his solo cup against yours.

“Beats me, kitkat,” he said. “You know I measure liquor with my heart.”

“Should start measuring with your liver,” you said, taking another drink anyway. “Lordy. I'm gonna be slap-out drunk after one drink.”

He cackled. “Slap out? That's weird. You're funny, honey.”

You grinned at the sloppy kiss he bestowed on your cheek as he went to rejoin the party, knowing Jake was well on his way to being slap-out drunk already. Most of the partygoers were in various states of intoxication, whether from the counter littered with half-empty bottles of booze or the weed that was being “discreetly” smoked in the back yard. One of the boys' friends had planned this bash to celebrate the beginning of the season at the haunted house attraction they worked for; this was sort of their last hoorah before nights and weekends became dedicated to scaring the bejeezus out of people for the next two months. You knew your boys were looking forward to getting back to work, and even though you weren't the biggest fan of haunted houses, you were happy to come and celebrate this year's reign of terror on the folks of your small town. 

You fished a Corona out of the cooler and went in search of your boyfriend, weaving through rooms filled with people talking and laughing and singing along to the Ghostbusters theme song playing at a blinding volume. Some were dressed in their costumes for work, getting in the spirit of things, and you politely sidestepped a ghoul and an undead nurse making out in the hallway. You spotted Danny in the living room, sporting a black hoodie and a backwards ball cap that somehow managed to tame his thick head of curls. He was talking animatedly to Sam, who was giving him a vaguely drunk but comically serious look of attention and consideration.

You'd almost made it to them when somebody in a clown mask started razzing the crowd, hollering and getting up in their faces. They all seemed to like it — it was just another day at the office for them, after all — but you stumbled back a little when he turned to you and held his hands up as if to snatch you.

“Hey, Bri, easy on the fright night with my kitkat.”

Your boyfriend’s kind reminder from behind you had Brian backing off with an applogetic laugh.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, muffled through his mask. “Forgot you weren't into all this. My bad.”

“That’s okay,” you said with a smile, thankful for the quick response. The actors who worked at the haunted house were very good about keeping things light and fun for all thresholds of thrill-seeking, even those as low as yours. Still, Danny's hand on your waist was a welcome comfort as Brian went off to scare somebody else.

“Thanks,” you said, turning to Danny. “I guess I should be used to this sort of thing by now.”

He smiled. “No sweat, kitkat. Brian's just funning you, but it's okay if you don't like it.”

You handed him his beer, and he accepted it with a word of thanks.

“This is my last one tonight, though,” he said, looking at your cup with a wry smile. “Somebody’s gotta drive us home, and if you're drinking some shit Jake made, no way should you be behind the wheel.”

Sam held out his hand for a taste of his brother's concoction, and when you let him have some, he coughed and spluttered.

“God damn, kitkat,” he said as you and Danny laughed. “You’re gonna be on the floor after that.”

“That’s the plan, Sammy boy,” you said cheerfully. You knocked back another swig and shuddered with the acrid taste. “Goes down real smooth.”

Danny chuckled and hugged you close to his side. “Having fun, kitkat?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Are you?”

He hummed in agreement around a sip of his beer. “It’s fun to be back with everybody. It's gonna be a good season, I think.”

The music crescendoed, almost rattling the windows with the volume of the synth.

“Do you know who you are yet?” you asked.

Danny leaned closer to hear you over the noise. “Do I know what?”

You stood on tiptoe and leaned on his arm. “Do you know what part you're playing yet? At work?”

He nodded. “Ah. Yeah. Werewolf again. It was such a big hit last year that they want to keep it around.”

You gave him a cheeky smile and a kiss. “It was a big hit for me too.”

He pinked a little, liking the compliment and the reminder of how you'd met. 

“Glad you're happy, sweetheart,” he said, a little bashful. 

Some of his friend wanted him to play a game of darts with them, and you stole one last kiss before you sent him on his way. You knew enough of his coworkers to hang out on your own, and the Kiszkas were milling around somewhere; you went to mingle and talk to some of the friends you'd made over the last year as you'd frequented the haunted house in the off season of repairs and updates.

Cindy, one of the girls who’d worked the zombie maze last year, took you by the arm and let you to where she and a couple other girls were messing around with tarot cards in the dining room.

“Your turn, kitkat,” she said, ushering you into the chair at the table laid with cards and fairy lights. “Time to seek your fortune.”

The girl telling fortunes shuffled the cards and fumbled a few with tipsy hands, and you laughed.

“Off to a good start, I see,” you teased.

“Just you wait,” she said with a grin. She laid three cards in front of you, and you watched curiously as she presented the lovers upside down, the tower, and the moon.

Your draw earned a low chorus of “oohs” from the girls around you. You didn't have the slightest idea what the cards meant and looked around at their faces to see what you could glean from their expressions.

“Bad news?” you asked.

Cindy gave you an uncertain gesture with her cup. “Dunno, kitkat. Looks like your love life is gonna get fucked up, your carefully laid plans are gonna get blown to shit, and you're in for some fear and confusion.”

“Aw, what the fuck?” you protested with a laugh. “Gimme some new ones. I don't like those.”

She waggled her fingers at you. “The cards tell all, babe. Better get with it.”

You let someone else have a turn, and though you enjoyed spending time with your friends, you couldn't help thinking about the cards you'd been given. You didn't want your love life to implode; you liked it just the way it was. 

When the girls pulled out a Ouija board, you declined being haunted and excused yourself to find Danny again. He was out on the porch, smoking a cigarette and finishing off his beer; you snuggled close to him in the chilly night air, thankful for his warmth.

“Saw you in there with Cindy,” he said. His handsome features were sharp in the purple lights strung overhead. “What were y’all getting into?”

“The future,” you said mysteriously.

He smiled. “Oh yeah? What'd you find out?”

You downed the last of your drink. “Well, we're about to break up, and then I'm gonna explode and die, probably.”

He laughed. “Well damn, honey. Is that all?”

“That’s all she wrote,” you agreed. 

He leaned his elbows on the railing, looking out at the spooky decorations in the yard, and you hugged his arm.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

“I don't wanna break up and explode and die.”

He turned his face to yours, nudging the bridge of his nose against your cheek. “We’re not gonna break up, kitkat.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, half-serious. Maybe — certainly — it was the alcohol making your head fuzzy and your emotions wobbly, and you knew you were worried way too much about some drunken tarot reading that none of you had done correctly anyway. But you still wanted reassurance, and as he always did, Danny gave of his kindness and patience very generously.

“Kitkat,” he said gently. He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I'd have to tear my heart out to ever live without you. You hear me?”

You blossomed under his touch, leaning close. “I hear you. I love you, Danny.”

He kissed you, and you felt his smile. “I love you, my sweet kitkat.”

You shared a cigarette under the soft violet lights, talking about the upcoming season and your plans for your anniversary that was only a few weeks away. 

“I think we should make it official and start a family,” he said.

You blushed, partly out of surprise and partly out of some insane pleasure at the idea. Of course you weren't ready for kids and he was only messing with you, but you didn't mind the thought of starting a family with him one day.

“Little Danny junior, huh?” you teased gently.

He grinned. “Later, kitkat. Let me marry you first. But maybe we could get a puppy and start practicing.”

You laughed. “Okay, honey. I like that idea. And the one about you marrying me.”

He pulled you snug against him. “I’m working on it. But, you know, rings that a haunted house actor and part time drummer can afford are kinda scarce.”

You slipped your hand under the purple lights on the railing and showed him a light resting on your ring finger.

“There,” you said. “Found a free one.”

He chuckled and kissed you. “You sure are silly, kitkat. I love you. And your free ring. It's very generous of you to find one.”

“Just doing my part,” you said, smiling up at him. You untangled your hand from the lights to brush your fingers over the curls that peeked out from his ball cap. “I love you too.”

When you ventured back to the party, you found that most everybody had settled out in the back yard for a showing of some horror movie on the projector. You and Danny found a spot on the grass to watch, and the Kiszkas joined you. You hoped it would turn out to be a slasher, since you were getting braver with that kind of scary flick, but you quickly found out it was something about ghosts or demons; you didn't watch it closely enough to find out. You hadn't quite gotten over your innate scaredy-cat nature to handle that kind of movie yet. Danny was absorbed in the movie and talking to the boys about it as they all enjoyed it, so he didn't notice that you were hiding behind your hands for a large portion of it.

Halfway through, when the movie was paused to let people refill drinks and snacks, Danny did lean over to check on you.

“How’s it going?” he asked. “This one’s not so bad, is it?”

“Um...” You didn't want to spoil something he was obviously enjoying, but you’d just about reached your limit for terror, even on a movie he thought was tame.

His expression softened with chagrin and worry. “Aw, honey. You don't like it, do you?”

His understanding made you brave enough to tell him the truth. “Not... not really,” you said apologetically. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

He shook his head. “You don't have to apologize, kitkat. I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier. We can go home if you want.”

You looked up as he stood. “Are you sure? I don't mind staying if you want to finish the movie.”

He offered you a hand up. “I don't want to stay if it's scaring you, honey. I'm happy to go home if you're ready.”

You took his hand, grateful for his kindness to you, and you said your goodbyes to the Kiszkas and the rest of your friends. The boys gave you some ribbing about still being a scaredy-cat, but you knew it was in good fun.

On the way home, you and Danny stopped to get something to eat and ended up camped out in the living room at the house he shared with the Kiszkas. You divvied up your Taco Bell orders as Danny queued something up on the tv.

“I think this one's a little more your speed, kitkat,” he said. “But you let me know if it’s too scary.”

The opening to Halloweentown started to play, and you nudged your elbow against his ribs and earned a sweet little giggle.

“Sorry, kitkat. I’m only teasing.”

He consoled you with a kiss, and as you sat together and enjoyed the movie that was indeed much more your taste, you found yourself watching him more than your were watching the movie. 

He chewed on his straw. “What?” He offered you his Baja Blast. “You want some?”

You smiled. “No, but thank you. I’m just admiring my lovely boyfriend.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I'm a real hunk eatin’ my weight in tacos and nacho fries.”

You patted his shoulder. “I like a man with a healthy appetite.”

He laughed and gave you a goofy smooch. “Good to know, baby.”

You broke out the candy after a while, grabbing a bag of the fun-sized Skittles and Hershey bars you’d been planning to save for trick or treaters in your more proactive moments. But you could buy more, and the boyish smile on Danny’s face when you tossed the bag in his lap was priceless.

“See, this is why I keep you around,” he said. He fished out a candy for you. “Your special candy, my sweetheart.”

You smiled when you took the Kit-Kat that looked impossibly small in his big hand. “Thanks, honey. I guess it is my special candy, isn't it?”

You broke off half of it and gave it back to him. 

“I didn't mean for you to share it with me,” he said, amused and kind. “But thank you.”

You gave him a quick kiss, candy-sweet and full of the easy love you shared, and he smiled as he pulled you close and deepened it.

“I love you, kitkat,” he said. “You know that, don't you?”

There was no way for you not to know. In his kindness and patience, his selflessness and sweet nature, Danny showed you he loved you until you thought your heart would burst with it.

“Yeah,” you said softly. You smiled. “I know it. I love you too.”

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[haphazardlyannotated]

I wonder what would have happened if Corona had pulled an Alfred the second she found out what Lyctorhood entails.

For one thing, Silas might not fight Ianthe if she's found crying and screaming over her sister's suicide rather than smug about the murder of her cavalier, though that probably just buys him thirty minutes until he attempts to duel Cytherea instead.

RIP mayonnaise boy, you were never going to make it out of this book alive.

I'm not sure Ianthe can even pull herself together enough to fight Cytherea in this timeline. She might just survive on the other end of Canaan House as Cytherea's blind spot while Gideon once again throws herself on a fence.

So as a result we get two insane girls performing lobotomies on each other to save the person who has defined their whole life.

Ianthe's fake past, ironically, probably has her as the darling admired golden only child of Ida. She keeps catching herself being instinctively sneaky and wondering where the hell that impulse is coming from, since she's always reveled in the spotlight (right?) before being distracted by seizures.

Both of the new Saints spend most of their time bleeding from their ears, giving nonsensical replies to every question they're asked, and generally acting like lunatics.

Mercymorn takes it as proof that trying to recruit these infants was a mistake from the start. "Look at them, John!! One of them keeps having seizures if I so much as mention Gideon and the other passes out at the sight of her own reflection!! I should have known this whole idea was a mistake from the start!! Children as fists!! Infants as gestures!! Yuck!!! Pfaugh!!!"

But hey, at least Ianthe gets to keep both of her arms.

[tangledrewrite]

Something that was unreasonably funny to me that always made me chuckle is that raps and Eugene don’t share a bed- it just made me wheeze I dunno! I’m still laughing thinking of it lol! I get it’s a kids show but it’s just SO silly to me XD even when they were traveling in the carriage- Eugene got kicked out with the boys hahah

LET THEM SHARE THAT BED DAMNIT-

Ok but silliness aside it does actually have merit. Rapunzel and Eugene are not married for the entirety of the series, and the kingdom of Corona, alongside its more anachronistic cultural inspirations, does lean itself on a number of older social values of central Europe. This means that an unmarried couple sharing a room, let alone a bed, is likely very unheard of even outside of royal courts.

And that aside, there's the status difference between Rapunzel(princess) and Eugene(common folk) that of course is already being given LOTS of grace and blind eyes, but still can't be completely ignored by Frederick. It's no secret they're in a relationship, and since Rapunzel is happy it's being welcomed greatly, but it's absolutely no stretch to believe that Frederick, at least in the first two seasons, would be apprehensive about letting someone of Eugene's status basically move in next door.

And there goes my rambling, i hope it's not too obvious we think too much abt this stuff ohscoshvosuvosug9suv9su

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: tyler owens x cowboy male reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: there's a new cowboy at the rodeo tyler used to ride for, and tyler's itching to get to know him.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.06k

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: plenty swearing, implied death in an acted play

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: cowboy slang vocabulary

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Rodeos are basically a second home for the famous Tornado Wrangler, Tyler Owens. This particular one he visits as often as he can, on weekend evenings to watch the show he used to ride for.

Sometimes, he misses it. He misses the blinding lights that make him forget he's in a glorified pit rather than a stage, and the whistling cheers and claps as he's fighting for his life on the back of a bull; most of all, he misses seeing his cowboy friends damn near every day for practice, especially the old rats that twister-signals him every time they spot each other.

Speaking of, he always tries to waive the fee for his ticket, and when he's too stubborn to accept, they bump down the $15 dollar price to a $3. Not that he ever agrees to that, either. He wants to support them.

All that history means he can always tell when they hire a new cowboy for the show, and this one, well, whew. Isn't he a looker?

Probably, anyway. The cowboy poncho's doing nothin' for his figure, and he's got his scarf up over his nose like the less pleasurable corona's still going around, but he's always had a little thing for cowboys with rat tails and hats over their eyes. Silly little things they are to want to act a mystery–fellers'll often get exposed one way or another–but there's just something about you that lassoes him in.

When Liam sees him walking over after the show, a purposeful look in his eye, he has to ask if he's coming back. "You finally quittin' your storm chaser business, cowpoke? We're startin' to miss ya."

"No, not today. Maybe when I'm forty." Tyler indulges him with a far off idea, like he always does to make small talk, but today he just can't wait to get to the point. "Who's the tenderfoot?"

"Oh, (Y/N)?" Liam chuckles, like a pleasant memory already brightens his mind just from the name. "He's good, ain't he?"

"Yeah, y'all train 'em for three months beforehand." Tyler brushes it off. He was good, but that wasn't the point, and–

"He's a total Bronc Buster, actually."

"Yeah, yeah," He dismisses it once more. "why the scarf? And the hat over his eyes?"

"We're starting a new thing next week." Liam strikes him with that famous excited grin of his, the one that often makes you forget how stern he can get, "Theatre plays on horseback."

"Plays on horseback–?"

"Yeah!" He replies with a nod like it's nothing. "Well, it's just regular plays without a stage, proper backdrops or a light crew," He lists off, then realizes just how depressive that must sound, "and real horses."

"Yeah, that's great, Liam, but why does that matter, exactly?" Tyler still had that one objective in mind, and that's finding out the mystery behind the newest cowboy on horseback.

"He's playin' the villain, of course. Gotta tease the man before we premier the show, builds up the anticipation, obviously."

"Right, right..." Though he trails off, he tries to act as though he knew the obvious marketing strategy, because obviously you put a man in a poncho and obstruct his vision so he looks like a good villain—that aside, he can't deny it worked.

"Look, dabster," Liam's the one waving him off this time, "he'll do fine, we'll do fine! We've rehearsed a lot, and we're sure it's a good idea."

"Uh-huh?"

"Just make sure to come on Friday rather than the weekend." Liam digs his finger into Tyler's chest, looking him in the eye so the man knows he's serious. "I mean it. We're only airing this thing on Fridays, it's long as all hell, Ty."

"How long?" Tyler deadpans.

"Pfft." Liam waves it off, "Long. Like Broadway up north. Lotta acting, intermission to push our food sales, then more acting. Climax, boom, tears and victory."

"Y'know the famous ones like Hamilton run for under three hours, right?" Tyler raises a brow. "Like a movie?"

"Like they say, you can't rush art, Tyler." Liam pats Tyler's shoulder twice reassuringly before he's pushing past and calling out his goodbyes with a yell. He had to leave with a one-liner, huh?

The buckaroo's just yammering, Tyler thinks to himself as he watches his old friend walk off. He only notices that he didn't get to ask for the new guy's number when his faraway figure gets to the size of a bean.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Flee, Danika, flee!" You shout to your horse as you barrel dive into cover. She does as promised, fleeing just far enough away that she'll hear your whistle once you've dealt with these bad, bad men.

With your back pressed against a rock and bullets just wooshin' past, you let the empty shells fall from your chamber to the ground and replace them. One by one, pressure's on, your fingers twitch, but they don't hesitate.

You'll get out of here alive, you always do.

You heave a breath, then another, a steady stream of inhales n' exhales, you're calming your heartbeat and will shoot with its rhythm.

Three, two...

Leaning over the edge of the rock, you aim.

Three, two, one.

Three men gone, off their horses and thudding against the harsh, hard ground, but there's more, ridin' in from the east and already prepping their aim. You scramble to get off your ass and into proper cover, the hay shed will do.

There's sweat over your face, it's making your scarf stick. You can't think about taking it off now, lest any of those boys make it out alive and see your face.

As the beat of the hooves comes to a stop, you peak 'round the open side of the shed and shoot.

Three, two, click, click, click.

Gods be damned, you've run out of bullets. You rush to flick open the chamber and empty the shells to replace them; the process is as natural as breathing to you, but not quite as fast.

A man rounds the corner, and you instinctively whip your revolver at his head to result in a crack that sounds all too real.

As the man thuds behind you, you peek around the corner with fresh bullets.

"We'll get you, you sonuvah gun!" The last of the reinforces is a coward, or a scout, as he's now ridin' away on his horse, but he's too gracious a host to consider leaving you without a parting gift.

The bullet that was meant for his head gets the dynamite that's gliding its way towards you, catching it mid air and detonating it early, before it gets you.

The force of the faroff explosion nearly knocks your hat off your head and your ass to the ground, if you hadn't already been there.

"Lord almighty..." You let your revolver fall to the ground harmlessly–which bounces off a little more than it's really meant to–and sigh.

The hat comes off, then the scarf, and you breathe, breathe, breathe.

You're alive, and you've got more enemies. Oh, who cares? What's a few more names to the list?

☾⋆☆⋆☽

As the crowd finally sees the villain's face for the first time, people whistle and ooh at the him.

Tyler's gut feeling was right: he is a looker.

That aside, the storm chaser had to admit, old Liam was onto something, even with the noticeably fake props. The only thing he's wondering is why it's been one hour and the regular rodeo show is resuming as usual. It's not intermission, cause they're not pushing food marketing as Liam said they would.

He doesn't have to ponder very long as he meets up with his old friend again.

"I took your advice to heart, actually. I knew the ol' star would be exhausted after all of it, so I thought we'd split it over a month, and play the same section all weekend. More ticket sales."

Tyler raised a brow at the mention of the protagonist, "Ol' star? He had one scene."

"Not him," Liam says it like he should know, like they're both back in front of the drawing board again, "(Y/N)."

"The villain's the star?" Tyler deadpans.

Liam chuckles in turn, "Didn't you hear the crowd when we finally revealed his face?"

"Oh." Tyler shakes his head, "Well, ain't he dyin' later? Stars don't die."

"Ehhh..." Liam waves his hand and shakes his head side to side in a kind of gesture. "It's implied."

"It's implied?"

"Endings are best left up to interpretation!" The man flourishes with a grand gesture, heaving more energy around than Tyler's used to seeing from him. This thing must really be a passion project. "Don't ruin it, for me, son."

Tyler raises both his hands in surrender at that. "You won't see nothin' from me, old man."

Tyler lets him walk off this time, he deserves that much; only then does he realize that he hasn't got the new guy's number. Again.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Negotiations? I don't do negotiations." You're huddled behind cover, hidden from view as you talk with the alleged big huncho of the mining camp. He brought reinforcement, nothing you can't handle, but it could still spell trouble.

"I like to look at a man when I'm talkin' to him."

You scoff. "Like hell I'll peek. You'll blow my head clean off if I try."

"I'm a man of my word." He insists, his deep jazzy voice just screaming a man of wealth and contracts.

"And so am I, but you wouldn't trust that." Idly, you check the chamber of your revolver, having learned from your mistakes. Six bullets, not shells, ready to be fired.

"Touché, good sir."

"Good sir?"

"As I understand it," The man says, his voice is strong to reach your ears but it ain't threatening, "you just want a cut of my money."

"And if I do?" You click the chamber back in place, listening for out of place sounds like footsteps.

"I'm willing to pay." Oh, that haughty bastard really thinks he's gonna get you with that?

"Like hell you are." You laugh, a loud thing so you make sure he hears that you're not gullible.

As the big man begins to speak again, surely more lies that are meant to coerce you into taking the bait, you throw a stray wood chip up into the air.

Bang!

The split second after it sees the light of day, the wood chip is shot to splinters, right as you'd expected.

"I think negotiations are over, sir..?"

"Cornwall." The man sighs out his name. "Good day to you, sir."

"Good day, sir Cornwall."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

As he often finds himself doing nowadays, Tyler goes around searching for Liam to talk about a particular someone. Little does he know that where he usually finds his old friend, he'll finds someone else.

"Excuse me," He begins politely, not recognizing the man from behind. "have you seen Liam?"

When you turn around to reply instead of another cowboy he might know, his little stunned gaze makes your words take on a confused tone. "He's playing his part in the pit..?"

"Oh." Tyler has barely any time to register that Liam's actually taking part in the acting biz before he's scrambling to greet you properly. "You're (Y/N), right? The new guy?"

"That's me." You nod your head and take a sip from your bottle. In a couple minutes you'll be back in the show again, so you're making the most of your small break. "And you?"

"Um, Tyler. Tyler Owens. Does Liam not talk about me?"

As the star of the million-follower YouTube channel Tornado Wranglers, Tyler thinks he's kind of a big deal around Oklahoma, especially around here as he used to ride for the local rodeo. He's usually not an arrogant guy, unless he decides to play it up for the competition, but...he finds that his ego is a little bruised now.

"I'm just playin' with you, poppet. Liam never stops singing his praises 'bout you." You offer your hand for a shake, a well placed gesture if you hadn't just called him poppet.

Tyler flushes a little, because, well, poppet's quite an endearing term and you're hot and there's something about men that are sweaty and out of breath. He manages to shake your hand without making a fool of himself anyway. "What does Liam say about me?"

"He said that you've taken a million kicks from bulls and you still managed to go an get yourself a fancy degree, that you're tough as nails and can always tell when he slips you belly wash." You list off a couple of less than good things about him in detail so excrutiating that Tyler knows Liam's said them time and time again. "Oh, and that you always rode pretty well."

Tyler comes out of it a little embarrassed, and his voice therefore comes out meek, like he hasn't spoken for a while. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You laugh and pat his shoulder. "You know how Liam is, he'll point out how you're a hill of beans and then praise ya."

His shoulders deflate with relief and he laughs along with you. "Yeah, I know 'im."

"Truth be told, it's kinda nice to hear about the real man as opposed to the Tornado Cowboy persona." You say it kind of sheepishly, which is rather nice to see when he's only ever had a cocky you to compare to.

Plus, you'd just admitted that you watch his videos, making his grin widen. "You a fan?"

"Don't get too full o' yourself, cowboy." You point a finger at him, huffing a laugh. "I see you in the stands every week."

He could just say it's because this play is an ongoing thing with a new sorta 'episode' each week, which is the truth, or he could flirt along. "You caught me," He hisses like it's a big deal and it's embarrassing to be caught. "I am your biggest fan."

"You like anti-heroes, do ya?" You chuckle, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I'm as gullible as everyone else, darlin'. I'll like any villain so long as they're hot n' ride good." He sends a wink over, because there ain't no subtlety when there's a crowd just a ways away you've gotta shout over.

You wolf-whistle in turn, "Is that so, poppet?"

"I'm being simon-pure." He insists, tipping his hat for extra measure.

This is going well for Tyler, you're responsive to his flirting and you can match it too. Unfortunately, good things always have to come to an end.

"Listen, Tyler," You indulge him with a laugh but unfortunately point towards the stage. "I don't wanna miss my cue, so I've got to...well, you know. What I'm saying is..."

"Wanna grab a root later?" Tyler takes the opportunity to ask first, eagerly at that.

"Yeah," You smile, grateful that he took the opportunity. "yeah, uh, want my number?"

It's the fourth week in a row Tyler watches another figure walk off on a Friday evening, but this time he's got his prize secured, and he's left more hopeful than regretful.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

These stubborn miners are just setting up more and more defenses, to the point where you're pondering what marks the difference between a mining camp and a Pinkerton camp. Is it gun count or armed miner count?

You settle into prone on a ridge overlooking the camp to make your figure less noticeable amidst the bright sky–earning you a couple strange bird caws from onlooking eagles–and scout out with your binoculars.

"Tall fences," You begin to mutter under your breath. "sniper outposts on the roof, a guard at the wagon rail, no, two; several on each little path in and out."

And...is that a Gatling gun? "Ugh, seriously?"

"What is it, my darling?" Your sweetheart calls from behind you. Before you can answer, she's rolling you over onto your back and settling half on your lap. The geese in V-formation above caw louder.

"Nothing to worry your pretty little head about." You assure, a nice smile on your face as you steady the gal.

You couldn't worry her, no, you're doing this all for her, after all. It's not her fault her daddy got their family into a deep, six foot grave kind of debt before the man got himself killed in a fishing trip gone wrong, after all.

"There is always somethin' to worry over." She giggles, hands trailing over your chest, pulling your attention away for the moment.

"I know, poppet, but–"

"You're worryin' right now." She points out, drawing circles over your heart with her pointer.

You sigh, "I know."

"Let me take your handsome lil' mind off it, can I?"

She's already leaning down before you can even say no.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

As soon as you start kissing up that pretty girl in that pit you take for a stage, Tyler looks down at his phone. He taps the screen impatiently, almost as if you'll answer him right now while you're up there, all busy.

Hey, it's Tyler. It was nice meeting you.

How does six at the Hay Shed sound?

"He ghosted me." Tyler groans. It's covered up by the sound of the ooh-ing crowd, but he doesn't much care if it's heard or not. "Seriously, I find a man as fine as cream gravy, and he ghosts me?"

It was too good to be true. You're hot, you called him poppet, and you were receptive to his flirting; too good to be true.

...

"Liam, hey! Can I borrow a horse?"

Nothing's better for clearing the mind than a good horse ride right before sunset, it's like long walks at the beach. Tyler often found that it was also great for dealing with break ups or, in this situation, not even making it to the talking stage.

He doesn't check his phone, doesn't even realize it's vibrating in place with it in the saddle bag. Instead, his eyes are straight ahead.

He's riding towards the sunset like it's the end of a movie, and what a poor, short movie it is.

It's fine. It's fine, it really is. It's not like he was already mashed, anyway, no sir! He's just disappointed. It's a big cavernous feeling in his chest like it's empty, when it's really filled with something none too good.

"Ah," Tyler sighs out, hopefully exhaling all them feelings. He pats the horse, watches its ears twitch as he talks. "You understand me, big guy?"

He's too caught up in feeling sorry for himself to hear someone else riding up beside him.

"Perfect spot for a first date, huh?"

"Holy shit, what the fuck?" Tyler damn near falls off his horse. He has to hold onto the reigns with white knuckles in order not to.

"You done airin' your lungs, poppet?" You only grin in return, pointing out your shirt pocket, at your phone. "I shot you a text."

Tyler huddles closer to his horse's neck. Though he's still heaving recovering breaths, he finds the sass to say, "About a week late."

"Yeah, 'm sorry about that." You rub the back of your neck, your smile melting with shame. "I'm kind of a busy man."

"Oh, yeah?" He shoots back with furrowed brows and a scowl.

"Yeah, I totally deserve that." You bow your head a little, "It's just, I work the show all weekend, and I was so exhausted comin' back in on Tuesday that it totally slipped my mind."

Oh.

"Let me make it up to you?" You ask hopefully, looking at him with those sheep's eyes, and it makes him feel a little guilty.

"I'm sorry." Tyler says quickly, straightening up and all and mirroring your apologetic look.

"No, no, it's totally fine!"

"I mean, I totally didn't realize–"

So there you both are, spewing excuses to be sorry for each other, guilt eating away at you like worms do a book. There seems to be no end to it. Your pseudo-argument stretches as far as the horizon, up until the sun sets below it.

"Seriously, let me make it up to you." Before he can even reply, you continue. "You said the Hay Shed, yeah? I'll buy our dinner, no big deal."

"I–" Tyler starts up, but you shoot him a pointed look, quieting him down. "Okay."

"Okay, good." That nice, charming smile of yours builds up again, and he almost swoons.

"Race you?" He smiles back, tipping his head forward.

You're already shifting into proper form. "Oh, you're on, cowboy."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You're sitting in your porch in that old rocking chair of yours, your white hair sweeping off your forehead as an easy breeze blows past. Your fingers tap to the rhythm of your boy playing the guitar and his mother singing along. Ranch life has treated both you and Danika well. The old girl gets to snack on sugar cubes every day while you got to lock your revolvers away and sip on fine liquor every night after dinner.

It's been a good life, you think as you watch the sun set. Your sins are long behind you.

...this isn't how you planned to die.

No, not in this damn cave away from your girl, slowly choking on fumes, trapped in by a cave in.

Somewhere, distantly, you can hear that good for nothing hero laughing like old Saint Nick himself, shouting to the world his victory.

It's not even his, you think stubbornly, because you won't give him the victory of thinking your death is his to brag about, it's this damned fire and these damned rocks.

You were so, so close. You've killed dozens of men just to get in this gods-damned gold mine and steal a couple nuggets for your girl, and you almost made it out.

This is how you'll die, all alone here choked by a fire.

Oh hells. If you're going to die you might as well die by the hands of a man who's actually worthy of the kill.

Shakily, you lift your hand.

This world was shit. Hope the next is greener.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

"Ah, oh god, fuck off!" Tyler shouts, and despite all that fight to shove your lips off his chin and his face, he's laughing.

"What, am I not pretty enough for ya, darlin'?" You pull him closer with warm–noticeably not scalding–hands at his waist, puckering your lips playfully at him.

There's black makeup, soot, over your face: on your cheeks, 'round your eyes, on your forehead, everywhere.

"Go boil your shirt!" With one shove, he pushes you so hard you fall into your vanity chair. The flimsy old thing rocks from side to side before settling back down with your weight on it.

You roll your eyes, picking up a makeup wipe once stabilized to begin cleaning yourself off. "If you didn't like me, you just had to say so."

"Don't be like that." Before you can answer, he's turning your chair and sitting on your lap, though when you try to kiss him, he pushes you away again. "You're not done yet, cowpoke."

You huff and whine, and you'd kick your feet if you could, like it's the worst shame in the world.

"Don't pitch a fit at me." He points a finger at you and you laugh in turn.

"No, of course not, darling."

Tyler waits patiently as you wipe the makeup off, realizing as he does that he's been through worse shit: the biggest tornadoes, the harshest thunder storms, and the stickiest mud. Although to be fair, he hasn't had mud that transfers as easily as this cheap makeup does on his face before.

"That good enough?" He shakes his head, prompting you to huff and wipe your face again. "Now?"

It's still not good enough for him. Fortunately, he snatches up the wipe and passes it over your face himself. It feels as rough as a cat's tongue or your dad hosing you down after you tracked mud around the house, and you're fixing to speak your mind about it.

"There you are." Tyler's face emerges from behind the wipe, a wide, teasing smile on his face that tells you he was wiping you off longer than he needed to. "Apple-pie order."

His lips are on yours right after that, drowning you with a toad strangler of love. Your complaints die out right on your tongue, because how could you ever be mad at him?

Answer is: you can't.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: i watched this movie in spanish so i don't know what tyler's cowboy nickname is in english and i've also forgotten some details in the movie (ex: if it was mentioned that scott and javi are ex-boyfriends, i literally did not notice until i read the wiki)

[letters-to-gene-roe]

sever, and mend—

an @hbowardaily (very late) secret santa gift for @andromeddog 🤍

Word Count: 800

He doesn't need to flick his gaze down to where his hands have wandered to know what brought this on. Beneath his fingers, branded into the space below and to the right of his navel, is a scar - silvery pink, slightly faded with time, circular in shape, with rays emanating from the center, like the corona of a star. Carwood could trace the shape of it blind and in the dark, because its match decorated the inside of his leg at the meeting of his hip and thigh. It was his soulmark, or what was left of it.

Ron's breathing catches. His voice is low, and Carwood feels rather than hears him speak when he says, “I almost didn't feel it, you know. When it happened.”

Carwood ran his hands over Ron's torso, feather-light touch barely brushing the familiar skin. Even so, he could feel the warmth radiating from him, a welcome change from the last time they were able to sleep together like this. He could feel the weight he's put on, too; not even continued army life could keep peacetime from taking its toll on Ron's body. It's a beautiful thing to see - he may not be the same dashing young lieutenant he was when they met more than a decade ago, but he loves who Ron is now, and he will continue to love him until he is a different man, and he'll love that man, too.

He doesn't need to flick his gaze down to where his hands have wandered to know what brought this on. Beneath his fingers, branded into the space below and to the right of his navel, is a scar - silvery pink, slightly faded with time, circular in shape, with rays emanating from the center, like the corona of a star. Carwood could trace the shape of it blind and in the dark, because its match decorated the inside of his leg at the meeting of his hip and thigh. It was his soulmark, or what was left of it.

Carwood's mark was still its natural golden white, a shining halo about the size of his palm. The shrapnel wound he incurred in Carentan cut through it, jagged and cleaving, and while the surgeons had done a fine job of repairing him, things were just… different afterwards. Before then, reaching out for his bond was like pushing through water, clear and omnipresent, but after - it was as if he was pushing into air. A child chasing a kite string, moving farther every second.

“Almost?”

It was a few moments before Ron could answer. “Almost.” Scant moonlight filtered through the gaps between their curtains, and Carwood was suddenly aware of every square inch of bedsheet touching him. “It wasn't an immediate thing. It started bleeding, but for a little bit, I could still feel you. You were…”

He didn't finish the thought, but he didn't need to; Carwood remembered the moment well - being thrown through the air like a ragdoll, the hot, sticky wetness of his own blood coating his face and body, the wave of fear that came before even the pain. “It's alright, it's alright.”

“And then it was gone. I couldn't feel you anymore.” Carwood rubbed Ron's stomach gently, up and down, to tell him I'm right here. “Well, that part came later, I suppose - the numbness.”

“I couldn't feel you, either. You weren't gone, but you were… out of reach.”

Ron blew out of his nose, a small, pensive noise. “It's a damn miracle we still found each other, huh?”

“Well, Ron, it's almost like we're soulmates or something.” He was rewarded with a pinch to his side, not a hard one, just a tease. Carwood retaliated by scraping over the upper sides of Ron's chest with the pads of his fingers, where he knew from experience that he was most ticklish.

“Oh, it's going to be like that!”

Ron's sincerity pulled at his heartstrings. There was nothing he could say right now that could possibly encompass all of what he needed Ron to know, and so he just whispered back, “I love you, too, Ron.”

For a moment, they were young men again, play-fighting in bed, laughing as they found each other's soft spots. Then Ron's fingers found Carwood's mark, and they were serious once more. They lingered there, tracing the still gold soul mark with the utmost reverence, memory filling in the parts where it was interrupted by the scar. He was sure that Ron would have kissed it if he could have - a reverent and chaste press of lips, or maybe a small nip, followed by the wash of his tongue on the parts that were faded and scarred. As it was, Ron's warm breath fanned over him, his face buried in the space between Carwood's neck and shoulder.

By the minute clench of Ron's jaw, he could tell that there was something else he wanted to say. He brushed his knuckles over the tense muscle, as if to coax out all the words stuck there, before easing his hand into Ron's hair. He didn't speak for a long while, and Carwood was almost back asleep when Ron whispered his name.

“Car?”

“Yes, love?”

His fingers rested a little heavier on Carwood's mark now. “I don't… I need you to know that I chose you. Before we knew about the marks, I chose you, and every day since, I have chosen you.”

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Pedrotober Masterlist

I am thrilled to participate in Pedrotober 2024 hosted by @norththelemon and @alyssamariag! View the full prompt list HERE or enjoy my submissions throughout the month of October!

Note: As a writer, I took some pretty drastic liberties with some of the prompts to make them work from a writing perspective. All prompts have been adapted to fit a specific character and will be listed as the month goes on!

Another Note: Note: Drabbles marked with *** are rated E, Minors DNI. All drabbles list specific warnings, if applicable.

Day 1: Mr. Fantastic | "Thank Heaven" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: Frankie can't help but admire his choice of costume for Halloween.

Day 2: Kieran Bromance | "The Competition" Pairing: Mr. Ben x f!reader Summary: Your boyfriend and his arch-nemesis face off in your school's yearly decorating contest.

Day 3: Nails | "All Along" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: Frankie paints your nails.

Day 4: Silva | "Ghosts" Pairing: Silva x Jake Summary: It felt like he was being followed by ghosts. Or perhaps, after all this time, he was still following them.

Day 5: Esquire Bonuses | “Get in the Truck”*** Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: You won’t get in the truck until Joel tells you why you’re going. He shows you instead.

Day 6: Dieter Bravo | "KitKat" Pairing: Dieter Bravo x f!reader Summary: You and Dieter learn your love languages.

Day 7: Ezra | "Countdown" Pairing: Ezra x reader Summary: He has to let you go.

Day 8: Corona | "Lucky" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: Frankie sets you up on a blind date.

Day 9: Fink the Fox | "The Backyard" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: You watch Frankie and his daughter play in the backyard.

Day 10: Fav Tee/Candids | "Pedialite" Pairing: Mr. Ben x f!reader Summary: Do you think some people have killed themselves over nausea?

Day 11: Any Max | "Turn"*** Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: Joel convinces you to watch a movie, and then convinces you that he's far better than the man on screen.

Day 12: Rainbow Pants | "The Best Day" Pairing: Javi G x f!reader Summary: A nasty stomach bug forces you to miss Javi's Walk of Fame ceremony.

Day 13: Javi G | "Mariposa"*** Pairing: Javi G x f!reader Summary: Emptiness can always be filled with love. A VERY special collab with @alyssamariag and @imdrinkingpedro.

Day 14: Freebie! | "The Fox" Pairing: Javi G x f!reader (Set in the "Mariposa" Universe) Summary: Sofia gives you and Javi a gift.

Day 15: The Materialists | "Different"*** Paring: Randy x reader Summary: When you meet a stranger at the bar, your shared heartbreak shows you that you're more alike than you are different. Rated M for themes of depression.

Day 16: Whiskey | "Right Place" Pairing: Agent Whiskey x f!reader Summary: Whiskey has been distant lately, but when an undercover op goes wrong, everything becomes clear.

Day 17: Arm Sling | "Useless"*** Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: Joel's injured...but that doesn't mean he's useless.

Day 18: Oberyn Martell | "Helpless"*** Pairing: Oberyn Martell x f!reader Summary: You sometimes wish you could convince yourself to leave, but then he reminds you why you stay.

Day 19: SDCC | "Excitement" Pairing: Mr. Ben x reader Summary: Ben makes sure you've seen the sizzle reel for Marvel's newest film.

Day 20: Frankie Morales | "Quiet Moments" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: Crossword puzzles with Frankie.

Day 21: Curls | "Picture" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: You can see your future with Frankie so clearly.

Day 22: Gladiator II | "Fate"*** Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader Summary: Two souls that were never meant to cross paths find each other, even as death lurks in every corner.

Day 23: Din Djarin | "Blaster" Pairing: Din Djarin x reader Summary: You and Din differ in opinion when it comes to the Loth-cat that keeps showing up.

Day 24: Sundance | "Before"*** Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader Summary: Whispered words long to fall from your tongue as Marcus makes a vow to you in the moonlight.

Day 25: Javier Pena | "Lies" Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Summary: Your entire relationship is formed on lies until you realize that the only one telling the truth is him.

Day 26: Vanity Fair Cover | "Domesticity" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: Four little slices of life with Frankie Morales.

Day 27: The Last of Us | "Promise" Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: The promises you whisper. Contains major spoilers for TLOU Part II.

Day 28: Any Marcus | "After"*** Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader Summary: At times you know that the man who has returned to you is the same one who left, and in other ways, he's entirely different.

Day 29: The Uninvited | "S'mores"*** Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Summary: Your camping trip gets canceled, but Joel finds a way to make it up to you.

Day 30: Fav Awards 'fit | "The Shirt"*** Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader Summary: If there's one thing you know about Javier Peña, it's that he really loves the way you look in his shirt.

Day 31: SAG Awards | "For You" Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader Summary: He's never been prouder than in this moment.

[hellionyura]

Jackunzel Animatic: Wherever You Are

Hi fellow Jackunzel shippers! I have something exciting to share!! I just made an animatic for Jackunzel. You can watch here: https://youtu.be/V8ey7SKI9_8

And a little preview:

Please give it a like and share if you could, it would really make my dreams come true to have more people watch my creations! <3

Anyways heavy texts below if you're interested to hear my ramblings thoughts while making this animatic: (Contains a little spoiler if you haven't watched the animatic yet so go watch it right now! Hehe)

This idea came to me in January 2023, when I heard the song 'Wherever You Are' by Kodaline. It was about finding each other and I related to how Jackunzel has two different appearances, and so I made them go through different lifetimes, and how they always find each other in each one. Also huge shoutout to @justinepush for inspiring me with this cute animatic.

1st life: Human Jack & Magic Hair Rapunzel

In their first lifetime, the story roughly follows the original Rapunzel's fairytale, where the witch found out that Rapunzel has been seeing the Prince secretly, and banished her from the tower, then threw the Prince out of the tower, landing on a bed of thorns below, thus blinding him. They managed to find each other years later, reunited with their twin children. In this animatic though, they both lost their lives to the thorns, and Gothel was shocked/surprised not because she was worried about Rapunzel, but because her treasured golden hair is no longer usable. So in this one, Jack was either a Noble from Corona Kingdom, or a Prince from a neighbouring kingdom?

2nd Life: Guardians Jack & Rapunzel

Rapunzel was chosen as a Guardian, with healing powers. I don't have much thought on her center, it was probably something along the lines of Guardian of Wish/Longing because of how Rapunzel's wish in Tangled was made true by herself (with the help of Flynn yeah but she was the one who initiated it).

I needed a simple design for her Guardian appearance so I whipped up something quickly:

3rd Life: High School students

They're both normal humans now, and meeting by coincidence, not confronting any dangers or whatever, so hopefully they can take it easy now and enjoy each other's company for a long time :)

I think it's interesting to note that they may not remember each other from their previous lives, but something does click when they meet each other. But I leave that interpretation up to you. They can also remember each other if you want ^3^

The only pairing I haven't touched is Guardian Jack and Brown-haired Rapunzel. I'll whip up something for those two in the future probs so look out!

This whole animatic took me a whole month, but of course the planning and conception was cut short because I wrote down the main plot back during its inception in January 2023. While drawing each picture, I would always lose confidence saying things like "yeah this isn't going to work out" or "aahhh this looks trash no one will like this" or "maybe i should just stop now because this didn't turn out as amazing as I thought it would be", and I had to take care of myself before burning out and quitting it altogether. I also lost confidence because my style is so anime-like, I thought people wouldn't like it since it's way different from the studio's artstyle, but anywayss...

This was my first animatic and deciding to draw 60 different coloured illustrations wasn't a good idea for a first-timer, but I kept going because even if people won't like it, I'll just do it for myself.

This was a long post, but whewww. I'll probably draw some fanarts of their High School AU. Thanks for reading! (If you actually reached here lol)

[sparkythefirefly]

The Dragon Prince Season 7 Theory

!includes spoilers for the previous seasons! (Obvi)

Okay. So.

During season 6, Rayla and Callum thought they acquired 3 Quasar Diamonds, but it was actually just 2. Rayla used one of them to free Runaan from the coin and bring him back to the physical world. She didn’t use the second one.

Also in season 6, it is revealed to us that Viren trapped his mentor, Kpp’Ar, presumedly the same one that blinded Sol Regem, in a coin; same as Runaan and Rayla’s parents. Viren did this so he could take the Staff of Ziard and use it to heal Soren. We later learn that the third Quasar Diamond was, in fact, in the Staff of Ziard. It was hidden there by Aaravos.

But that’s off topic.

Anyway, my theory is this. I think Callum or Ezran or whoever, will find the coin that Kpp’Ar is trapped in. I think someone will recognize him, and the fact that he was a very powerful mage (probably someone that knew him before Viren trapped him, like Opelli). Therefore, Callum or Rayla or whoever will go to the spirit world with the second Quasar diamond Callum and Rayla got from the Corona of the Heavens, and free Kpp’Ar.

Then they’ll explain the situation to him and he’ll help them defeat Aravos.

I think this has a valid chance of happening because the entire Kpp’Ar storyline in season 6 was like, a major bomb drop by the storytellers. So I feel like they’ll expand on it more.

That’s all, and thank you for reading all that if you did.

Edit: that’s not what happened, but what did happen is so much better omg

[thesaltyblobfish]

TANGLED THE SERIES SPOILERS!!! Varian hates hurting people. Pretty much all of his experiments and inventions— not all— were not for violence. Sure, he hurt plenty of people when he joined the Saporians, but this was only after what happened with his father. His face when the Saporians took his failed experiment to use it to harm Corona was heartbreaking. When he had to shoot Cassandra— wow. You could see the fear, especially because he had had terrible experiences with that chemical. The time when he really tried to hurt Rapunzel was only because of blind rage and fear and the hopelessness of his situation. Varian is a literal child, he doesn’t want to hurt people. I think that’s what makes him such a good character, is that there are some limits he will not go to.

[electrozeistyking]

Imagine this. You've just returned to Corona after a good portion of time. The last time you've seen this one alchemist kid is when he rightfully snapped and then got sent to prison.

When you see him again, not only is he hanging out with the Saporians, but turns out he's blind! And the first thing he says to you is: "Long time, no see. Literally, I can't see anything anymore."

[arson-the-crime-brulee]

Tangled au

Ok, so:

I was listening to https://youtu.be/LHvnel95Gno?si=uHeJ1hJOJXrJZ6rh this song

And it got me thinking about an au where after returning to Gothel and thinking that Eugene betrayed her, she doesn’t figure out her heritage and due to gothel doing something differently, she ends up being taken away to a new tower/prison (I’m thinking on terapi island for now but that could change) and that’s where she sings this song,

This post may be long so I’ll put the rest of my thoughts under the cut:

Eugene:

Sconce I need a reason for Eugene to not have found rapunzel again, and I like the concept of blind!eugene. I’m gonna say that gothel found and blinded Eugene before he could get to rapunzel.

Next up Cass:

In this au she would still find the black rocks, but instead of showing them to rapunzel she would do reasearch on her own, in order to help her dad and show him how strong she is.

After a while she ends up going to the “wizard of old corona” (varian) for help, for the next few weeks they work together, Until the blizzard hits.

Varian:

Varian dad still gets incased, but instead of going to rapunzel he attempts to solve the problem on his own, before eventually Cass comes to check on him, and they stumble into the ruins of rapunzel’s tower, where they find a certain blind ex thief.

Season 2:

After varian is finished fanboying and Eugene explains what happened to his eyes, they form an (begrudgingly on Cass’s part) alliance to find the princess and stop the rocks!

Adira then explains the importance of finding the sun drop and becomes the groups guide along the rocks from the shadows.

I don’t know how the rest of season two would go, but I DO know that once they make it to terapi island they meet rapunzel again and she joins their journey. However, the magic used to blind Eugene won’t let her fully heal him, meaning that now, while he can see the vague outlines of shapes and, sense movement, he can’t fully see.

I don’t yet know how the rest would go cause I’m a little stuck on season three and the dark kingdom, but please tell me if you have any ideas :D

[transamus]

Also here's my thoughts on the various aspects of Mario Eclipse, major spoilers though- I recommend going in blind if you plan on playing it at all.

Il Piantissimo feels phenomenal to play as. Not having FLUDD is compensated with a double jump, and the increased speed & jump height is insane. Luckily, you cannot choose to play as him in any episode where you would not be able to accomplish your goal. Additionally, the presence of water bombs for all characters when not using FLUDD works really well to make him still viable.

Luigi feels like the perfect middle-ground between Il Piantissimo's faster movement / higher jumps and still being able to use FLUDD. I choose to play as Luigi more often than not.

Warship Isle was full of tedium, my least favourite new level: however, where all the new levels do have some tedium, the tedium itself fit perfectly into the game. Nothing was more tedious than what Nintendo themselves asked of the player, and so it kinda ended up balancing out pretty nicely.

Lighthouse Isle had some camera issues, but overall starting the level stormy was a great choice, the custom boss battle was really well-done, and I enjoyed it a lot. My only other criticism is that the soundtrack was more "Grant Kirkhope" than "Koji Kondo", but none of the other levels' soundtracks had this issue.

Erto Rock was a beautiful level and a great way to interpret the concept from the cut content. I'm not a huge fan of how often, though, in new levels, you start with a mission that has a timer; I'd prefer personally to be able to take my time exploring the new levels first rather than kinda have to take it all in as quickly as possible. It's also nice having a more vertical level that feels simultaneously like it takes advantage of the Rocket Nozzle where the base game did not, as well as not making it entirely mandatory either.

Hotel Lacrima is a hilarious way to interpret the cut content; they chose to make it mafia based, because... hotel la-crime-a. That's really funny. The organized crime didn't feel out of place for a Nintendo game of this era, either, weirdly enough. The level itself is designed in such a way that the camera feels accommodated for really nicely, despite the inherent issues with the game's camera.

All of the new transition levels / areas feel really cute, and the vibes are immaculate.

Needing to beat shadow Mario in all of the new levels as well was unexpected, but I felt like it fit really nicely. This is usually one of the biggest criticisms of Mario Sunshine itself, but I think the amount of post-game content makes up for this.

Starting the game at Peach's Castle was also a really great choice; in the base game, you have all of 3 seconds to familiarize yourself with Mario's moveset before you obtain FLUDD. Having even this small change I think fixed that issue really well.

The ability to enter Corona Mountain pre-flood was a really nice touch; I do wish that it had been expanded into a full level, though. The attention to the cut detail of it being a Shrine was very appreciated.

I'm only just moving into the post-game content, but having it based around Daisy's Cruiser is a really adorable touch. The post-game content genuinely feels like Official DLC for the game, expanding the map outwards off of Isle Delfino rather than continuing to pile onto the island.

As a Blue Coins enjoyer, I'm really glad that they didn't remove the Blue Coins from the game, and in fact added some to every single new level. I've always stood by the fact that I'd rather have Blue Coins as a "portion of a major collectable" than distort the value of major collectables by throwing them literally everywhere (looking at you, Mario Odyssey).

While the original plan for Eclipse was to restore the beta Delfino Plaza, the beta plaza is nowhere to be found. On one hand, I wish they would have, and put it maybe on the north side of the island or something? but on the other hand, not restoring it does feel like it honors the choices the developers made more, making the mod feel, again, like an Official Product. I think the beta plaza would have stood out design-wise, and- like in the base game- was probably not included for good reason.

As someone who is super autistic about Super Mario Sunshine, this really feels like it hit every single thing I would've wanted in a theoretical remake- it feels like this is the game Nintendo's team would have made if they had been given unlimited time and budget to do so.

[bri-cheeses]

| Sprace microfic | Word count: 960 | Shoutout to Hotshot (my queen) |

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Spot Conlon was sitting on a fire escape, and he had a secret.

Technically speaking, he had many secrets, a good deal of which were much more sinister than this one. But this, he thought, was one that couldn’t get out. Ever.

“Hey, boss,” Hotshot said from behind him, lowering herself onto the step next to Spot. The sudden break in the serene atmosphere caused Spot’s pulse to jump, but he didn’t let it show. Instead, he simply flicked the ash from the cigar he was holding and shifted over to make room for his friend. He wasn’t sure why his second in command felt the need to interrupt his alone time, but he wouldn’t mind so long as she didn’t say anything.

“So,” Hotshot started, and Spot mentally cursed at his luck, “I thought I’d let you know that the guys have been talking.”

The guys.

Have been talking.

A glower overtook his face. He had a feeling he already knew what this was about, but he had to be sure before saying anything.

“Talking about what?” he asked.

A beat of silence, then a hesitant: “They say you’ve been spending a lot of time at Sheepshead lately.”

“And what’s it to them?” Spot knew his tone was becoming more and more threatening, an undercurrent of danger lurking beneath his words, but he couldn’t bring himself to care very much. This was something good that he had. Something actually, truly good. He wouldn’t give it up without a fight.

“They say,” Hotshot said, continuing on even though Spot refused to look at her, “that you’ve been spending more and more time there since a couple a’ months ago.”

He let out a frustrated huff of breath. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

His tone was biting, and his grip on the cigar in his hand tightened. Hotshot said nothing.

When Spot finally dared a glance at her, he found that she was already looking at him, her expression assessing. He felt his mask harden in response to the scrutiny. If Hotshot wanted to play this game, he could show her that he knew how to play, too—and knew how to play it well.

“Spot,” Hotshot finally said, and her voice was slow and measured as she asked, “Where’d you get that cigar?”

Apparently, she could play it well, too.

“It ain’t your business.” His tone was hard, no room for discussion or argument. Because Hotshot wasn’t supposed to know. No one was, except for himself and, well, the reason he’d been spending so much time at the tracks recently. But Hotshot had guessed anyways.

He looked down at the cigar. He should’ve been more careful—this wasn’t something that he wanted to get out. Not because he was ashamed of it, but because this was his thing. It was something he had that was special, and so what if he wanted to keep it to himself for just a bit longer? He did everything for the Brooklyn newsies. Everything. He deserved to have this one thing, right?

Hotshot sighed. “You know I won’t judge you, even if— even if he is Manhattan.”

“Who said anything about anyone?” Spot said flatly. His hands itched to push himself up off the stair, to stand and leave and avoid this conversation.

“I ain’t blind, Spot. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you tense whenever someone says his name, or the guarded expression you have when you say you’re going to the tracks, or the brand of the cigar in your hand. There’s only one newsie you interact with who would blow his money on a box of Coronas. So like I said, I ain’t blind, and I sure ain’t stupid, either.”

Spot had to huff a mirthful laugh at that, because maybe she wasn’t, but he certainly felt like he was. At least, he felt stupid in some capacity, to have thought that no one would put the pieces together, that no one would pay attention and figure it out and approach him to ask about it.

And so Spot didn’t utter a word. He could flat out lie to Hotshot, but he doubted she would believe him. He could leave, but she’d just ask him again and again until he had no choice but to tell her. And he could tell her to forget all about it, but Hotshot was his friend and he couldn’t bring himself to do that to her.

A muscle clenched in his jaw. He didn’t look at her.

“Fine. You want me to say it? I like him. I like Race. That’s the reason I’ve been spending time at the tracks, that’s while I have a cigar in my hand, that’s why I’m wary when people say his name or mention Manhattan.” He took a deep breath. “And now you’ve gotten what you wanted, so I’d appreciate it if you just left me alone now. And don’t even think of mentioning this to anyone else. You’ll regret it if you do.”

Usually when Spot threatened people, they didn’t laugh. But that’s what Hotshot did, loudly and heartily before saying, “And that’s the classic Spot I know, always making things more difficult than they have to be. Seriously, was that so hard?”

He didn’t respond.

“But really,” she said quietly, the metal of the fire escape creaking as she stood, “I’m happy for you.”

Then the moment was broken as she laughed again, clapped him on the shoulder, and said, “Now I’m going inside before you throw me off the fire escape.”

When he didn’t answer, she turned and made her way up the rickety stairs. The sound of a window shutting alerted him to her departure, and he closed his eyes.

What had he gotten himself into?

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