#bunny hull

[vintagegoddesses3]

[inthecityofgoodabode]

September 2024: The Days Leading To Our Nineteenth Anniversary

Wednesday harvest:

We cleared out the summer vegetables to make room for the cool season vegetables:

If no one else does, he wants to hear what is on your mind:

We're still working on this bed but the goal is pollinator magnet:

It came in the mail:

Anniversary flowers:

Sunday harvest:

Cool season plantings.

Kale:

Cabbage:

Swiss chard, brussels sprouts, bush beans, broccoli & cauliflower:

Spinach:

Swiss chard & peas:

Anniversary day dinner:

Lost soul:

We trekked over to Arkansas to check out a lake at a wildlife refuge. The road to the lake was out so no photos of the lake but have these photos of crossing the Mississippi River back into Tennessee:

Tuesday back at the house:

My queen working magic:

Tuesday on the grill:

Tuesday dinner:

[megaawkwardhuman]

cringetober day 19: dolls/puppets

I give myself one day for a break AND NOW I'M WAAAAAAY BEHIND 😭😭😭

anyway of course I had to draw nadja doll for this prompt! (but ya know as a bunny)

[skepwith]

More Parts of the Revenge for OFMD Fans

Part of a series: Revenge Master Post.

This post is about stuff in the body of the ship, going more or less from top to bottom. I’m saving the sails and rigging for my next post. If you want to know more basic terms like fore and aft and bow and stern, look for “Parts of the Revenge” in my master post.

Obviously, using these terms is entirely optional, since David Jenkins et al. are free and easy with the ol' historical accuracy. This list is for pedants like me and people who like historical and specialized language. Enjoy!

Main Deck

The low “walls” on the sides of the open decks were called the bulwarks—they were to keep people from falling overboard. On the Revenge, the bulwarks are topped by a rail (railing).

A gap in the bulwark, together with a set of rungs on the hull, was called an entry port. It allowed people to climb aboard from a dinghy.

The top edge of the bulwark was the gunwale, pronounced gunnel. The expression “loaded to the gunwales” is still used to mean very full. The top edges of a dinghy are also called gunwales.

An opening in the deck is called a hatchway. I wrote about hatches a while ago, but what I didn’t realize was that the hatch is the part that covers the hatchway. The wooden grid that lets light and air through is called the grating.

In the bow, the curving rail that goes from the figurehead to the hull is called the head rail, which would’ve been really helpful to know for my toilet post. Oh well.

Stede’s journal could at a stretch be called a logbook (or log). This was a book in which an officer noted details of the ship’s daily progress and journey. Probably a bit less fanciful than Stede’s version.

Weaponry

The Revenge has guns (the word used for cannons) on her main deck and her gun deck. Before a gun was fired, the barrel was cleared with the sponge, then loaded with gunpowder and shot and wads of cloth, all of which was tamped down with the rammer. There were different types of shot, or ammunition; cannonballs were called round shot.

To fire a gun, a lit fuse (usually a slow match) was brought in contact with the vent at the top of the gun—called the touchhole—to ignite the gunpowder. (The wick added in OFMD isn’t accurate. Shocking, I know.) The slow match was usually held with a staff called a linstock, tucked into a notch on the end. You didn’t want to be right next to the cannon when it went off, because there was a non-zero chance it would misfire and explode in your face.

Despite what you see in movies, cannons didn’t produce a lot of fire and smoke; the cannonball did damage by going unstoppably through hulls, masts, and people—often many at a time—like a deadly Energizer bunny.

The gunpowder was kept in kegs in a small room called the powder magazine. (A magazine is an ammunition storage area.) This room was in the hull of the ship, below the water line, to minimize the chances of a stray spark sending the whole ship up in flames. The shot was kept in the shot-locker, a small room in the hold (though this word wasn’t recorded till 1805). As we know, Stede calls this the ball room.

Besides the regular cannons, the Revenge also has swivel guns, small cannons mounted on swivels. These were too small to damage another ship; they were there to fire at boarders and approaching boats. Or, you know, to set off fireworks.

To take an enemy ship, sailors might use a grapnel (or grappling hook). These were attached to a rope and thrown at enemy bulwarks or rigging so the ships could be pulled together for boarding.

The Gun Deck

Everything on a ship had to have a special name: stairs were always called ladders; the floor was called the deck; and a wall or partition inside the hull was called a bulkhead.

Some of you may know that a ship’s kitchen is called a galley. However, this usage wasn’t recorded until 1750; the earlier word was cook-room.

Likewise, the mess is where you eat on a ship, but this sense wasn’t recorded until the late 1800s. In OFMD’s time, mess meant “a group of people who eat together,” like officers of the same rank or sailors on the same watch.

You might know a berth as a shelf or box to sleep on, like Stede’s (and Ed’s) bed, but this usage wasn’t recorded until the 1790s. The earlier meaning, used from at least 1706, is “a room where a particular group (such as officers or midshipmen) eats and sleeps.” So you might call Jim’s room a berth—except that it changes hands, and its name has been firmly established as the Room.

A berth is also a place in a port or harbour where you can moor (park) a vessel, and thirdly, the safety margin around another vessel or object, which gives us the phrase “to give [it] a wide berth.”

Finally, the area where the animals (remember them?) were kept was a small triangular area in the bow called the manger. This seems to be where the Revenge’s en suite is, at least as far as I can figure, but if you want to include the animals for whatever reason, they’d probably live somewhere around there.

Storage

Some of the stuff on board was stored in casks, a.k.a. barrels. These could be any size, but a large cask was also called a butt. A scuttlebutt was a butt full of water attached to the deck for sailors to drink from. Unfortunately, the word wasn’t recorded before 1800, and the “gossip” meaning not till a century after that. But it’s a great word and you should use it anyway.

A keg was a small cask, usually less than ten gallons, used for things like gunpowder or rum.

A sea chest was a wooden box used to store an officer’s personal effects—or to confine a nosy hombrecito.

The Ship’s Bottom

(As it were.)

In several of my posts and diagrams I said the lower decks of the Revenge were the gun deck, the orlop, and the hold. But my friends, I made a grievous error: the Revenge has no orlop. I know!

In season 2, for the first time we get to see what’s below the gun deck. When Frenchie opens the secret passage in the kitchen, he reveals a set of stairs—sorry, a ladder—down to a grim, damp space. The kitchen is on the gun deck, so this is the deck immediately below it, and while on most ships that would’ve been the orlop, in this case it’s the hold.

The hold was the lowest compartment of the ship, used for storage and cargo. It also sometimes held the ballast—heavy stuff (e.g., pig iron, gravel, stones, lead) put there to improve the ship’s balance. The lowest part of the hold itself was called the bilge or bilges—the area where bilgewater collected and had to be pumped out.

Episode 3 shows the water on the floor—sorry, deck—making it pretty clear we’re in the bilges of the hold. On top of that, an Instagram post by crewmember Will Giles (shared on Tumblr by @ourflagmeansbts) mentioned repurposing the “bilge set.”

Which all proves that the Revenge’s hold is immediately below the gun deck, with no orlop in between.

The keel is the structural piece that runs lengthwise along the middle of the hull’s bottom. Keel-hauling was to drag someone along the outside of the keel, underwater, as a punishment—very nasty, often fatal.

Also underwater, at the stern, is the rudder, whose movement makes the ship turn. On a dinghy you steer by moving the tiller, a horizontal bar attached to the rudder post. On a ship like the Revenge, you turn the ship’s wheel, which is attached to the tiller via cables, and that moves the rudder.

That’s all for now! Coming next: sails and rigging, in port, and more sailing lingo.

Sources: Wikipedia, historicnavalfiction [dot] com, Oxford English Dictionary

[howlingday]

Bunny!Faunus Facts EGG DAY SPECIAL!

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Coco: We're back! Did we miss-

Velvet: (Tackles Coco) NEVER AGAIN!

Coco: AUGH!

Yatsuhashi: Oh, Velv-

Velvet: (Tackles him) YOU'RE BACK!

Yatsuhashi: AGH! (Slammed into the wall)

Fox: Guys? What's-

Coco: FOX! RUN!

1 - Rabbits are naturally social animals. If left alone, they can easily become depressed and extremely sad.

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Nora: (Sneaking up on Jaune) Heeheehee...

Jaune: Nora, don't pour that syrup on me.

Nora: Aw... How could you hear me? Your ears are plugged!

Jaune: (Takes earbuds out, Turns around) Sorry, what did you say?

Nora: Huh? But how did you-

2 - Rabbits have radar like ears that can turn 180°, and can pinpoint exact locations of sound. They also have near 360° vision.

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Yatsuhashi: Great work, Velvet! (Reaches out)

Velvet: (Bites hand)

Yatsuhashi: OW!

3 - Rabbits are naturally prey animals, so they don't like being picked up, touched, or held. When threatened, they will run away, hide, or bite to protect themselves.

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Nora: (Petting) Aw, aren't you a cute bunny?

Jaune: (Beaming)

Velvet: (Walks over) Um, Jaune? Can I get your opinion on something over here?

Jaune: Uh, sure. (Walks away with Velvet) So-

Velvet: You're safe. (Looks him over) You're not hurt, are you?

Jaune: ...No. No, I'm fine. But thank you for noticing.

Velvet: Anytime, Jaune.

Coco: ...They have been staring at each other for, like, two minutes and haven't said a single word.

Blake: ...Romance?

4- Rabbits communicate through very subtle facial expressions and body positions. Almost like a secret code.

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Ruby: Jaune, why do you fly if you get air sick all the time?

Jaune: It's the only way I can get anywhere. That, or by car. Or train.

Yang: What about by boat?

Jaune: I'm, uh, not allowed on boats.

Weiss: Why?

Jaune: Lifetime ban on rabbit faunus.

5 - Rabbits are prohibited from traveling on ferries after a legend of a rabbit chewing through the hull of a ship in the 17th century.

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Velvet: And I... I got so scared!

Jaune: Shshshsh... It's okay, Velvet. You're okay.

Velvet: But what did I do, Jaune?! Did anybody-?!

Jaune: No, no, everybody was away from you and Yatsuhashi came and got me.

Velvet: (Sobbing, Cuddles him) I was so scared!

Jaune: Ssh... There, there, it's okay. You're okay. You're safe now. (Glares at Coco)

Coco: Uh, y-yeah. My bad...

6 - Rabbits can be hypnotized, but they find it very traumatizing. Known as trancing, the rabbit is placed on their back and their hind legs are stroked. This state is known as "tonic immobility" and is a survival mechanic to simulate being dead. It used to be a popular pet bonding exercise until it was determined the action was actually mentally harmful.

[justaphan]

POTO Fics by Mertens

More than any other Phantom of the Opera fic writer, I find myself consuming Mertens’ works over and over for the pleasing writing style, the complex emotions, and the raw and realistic portrayals of Christines in particular. Mertens’ writing is how I also got into modern AUs! 

I’ve never done any rec list for this fandom so let’s start with my fav fics from @intothemertensverse! (Hi there! Thank you!) 

Gustave Daae’s Daughter: A disfigured man on the edges of society with a good heart, Erik has been Gustave Daae’s closest friend for years. When Gustave realizes his time is almost up after contracting an incurable disease, he leaves his two most prized possessions to his friend—his violin, and his daughter. In progress as of 01/09/2023. If you’re not reading this then honestly what do you actually do with all the hours of your life? Some big surprises in this one. Featuring Ayesha and also Angst with a capital A. 

A Love There Is No Cure For from Sonnet 86: A fic of epic proportions but it can be read independently of the larger verse it’s in. Major Leroux influences, and follows the SLOW BURNING journey of how Christine’s grumpy old insecure teacher became the happiest man alive (including all the very awkward sex). Mertens’ masterpiece. 

An Old Fashioned Love Song: After an incident results in Christine needing to fulfill community service, she volunteers at the local old folks home where a chance meeting with a resident will change both of their lives forever. Cranky 80-year-old disabled Erik? I love this little goblin so much. You will too.  

Saved From Solitude: Feeling anxious and unable to sleep in his own house, Erik spends the night in Christine’s dressing room to get some much needed rest. He’s certain Christine will never find out—as long as he wakes up on time. Erik may seem tall, dark, and imposing, but he’s actually the sweetest sleepy old man with a cane. I want to tuck him into bed myself. Bonus total BAMF Christine!

Scuffle in Box Five: The Ghost had requested that Box Five be kept empty, but on the night of Mlle Daae's first performance, Box Five is most certainly not empty. There is popcorn in this fic and it just makes it ten times funnier. 

And Ask Me To Open Up The Gate For You: Christine Daae has tried every trick in the book to achieve the clear complexion she so desires, and all without result—every trick, that is, except for one. She can’t do it on her own, but perhaps her beloved Maestro will be able to lend his assistance in the matter. In progress as of 01/09/2023. This one is so innovative and different! POTO London Christine Alternate Holly Anne Hull’s Instagram Story had a callout for long-term acne solutions, and turns out a few people told her to go get pregnant to achieve clear skin :D 

First Impressions: Erik takes Christine to his home and the cape flip goes awry. BLESS YOUR HEART ERIK!!!

Just Us Two: The day after the performance, Christine spends the day with her son, just like she promised. A beautiful, poignant continuation of Love Never Dies focused on mother and son. 

Like Everyone Else: Mr. Y has cracked the code of blending in to society. At least, he thinks he has. LND-inspired crack. Just hysterical. Honestly how could anyone argue against Erik moving to New York, it’s plot-powering gold! 

Mr. Y’s Christmas Surprise: Erik accidentally and inadvertently invents the ugly Christmas sweater. SEE COMMENTS ABOVE

Joyeuses Pâques (sans masque): Erik tries to celebrate Easter with his family on Coney Island—and what better way to celebrate than with a visit from the Easter Bunny? Guys just a reminder that Christine moved across the ocean to live with this guy, so.   

My Three Eriks: Erik doesn’t actually speak in the third person. OR “What do you mean James Gant and James Hume aren’t the same person” Shit gets too real in the lair, and it’s laugh out loud funny. 

The Nanny: College dropout Christine Dee lands what appears to be a dream job in taking care of a reclusive rich man’s seven year old boy. As she settles into her new life, however, she discovers a mysterious secret about her boss’s former wife that threatens to unravel everything. Modern AU. Definitely Gerik. Very relatable and insecure Christine. Very funny too. It’s a thrilling murder mystery and it’s very hard to stop reading once you start. 

Baby Shark: Erik is haunted by a certain song his neighbor is playing. Modern AU. I thought this was going to be a crack!fic but I was profoundly moved by it. Both Erik and Christine are a hot mess. A very refreshing take! 

Honolulu Sun: After two years of relative isolation during the pandemic, Christine is a little chattier than usual with a strange masked man in the grocery store. I’m more than a little bit obsessed with this one. Give me all the Gustave Sr./Erik bonding!!!

Boulevard of Broken Dreams: Wealthy Opera Populaire patron Raoul de Chagny has been kidnapped and the Opera managers have been receiving threatening letters regarding emerging star Christine Daaé. Private Investigators Erik and Antoinette have been called in to get to the bottom of what's going on, which means they'll have to be keeping a close eye on the safety of the young soprano. It really is a shame, then, that Erik seems to hate Christine who in turn seems horrified of Erik - but things aren't always what they seem. Film Noir AU. Big sweeping fic. Angles that haven’t been explored before. And an Erik that deserves to be seen!  

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ fandoms & characters I write for. ੈ✩‧₊˚

the fandoms I'm currently taking requests for are marked red. my favorite characters to write for will also be marked red.

if a piece of media you want to see me write for isn't on this list, ask me about it and I'll see if I'm familiar with it or intrigued by it enough to watch/read it. this list will be edited in case I become interested in writing for another fandom.

banner credits : @dollywons <3

╰┈➤ movies ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- the twilight saga - aro volturi, caius volturi, marcus volturi, demetri volturi, felix volturi, sulpicia volturi, athenodora volturi, leah clearwater, paul lahote, jasper hale, rosalie hale, alice cullen, carlisle cullen, benjamin (of the egyptian coven)

- the hunger games - finnick odair, johanna mason, gale hawthorne, cressida, cato, madge undersee (platonic)

- the ballad of songbirds and snakes - coriolanus snow, lucy gray baird, sejanus plinth, tigris snow, livia cardew, reaper ash,

- james bond franchise (daniel craig) - james bond, vesper lynd, le chiffre, gareth mallory (m), maximilian denbigh (c), lyutsifer safin

- harry potter - godric gryffindor, salazar slytherin, rowena ravenclaw, helga hufflepuff, newt scamander, theseus scamander, tom marvolo riddle, abraxas malfoy, barty crouch jr, regulus black, severus snape, evan rosier, james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, peter pettigrew, lily evans, marlene mcckinnon, pandora lovegood, xenophilius lovegood, bill weasley, charlie weasley, fred weasley, george weasley, ron weasley, draco malfoy, theodore nott, blaise zabini, hermione granger, harry potter, oliver wood, cedric diggory

╰┈➤ tv shows ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- game of thrones - robb stark, sansa stark, jon snow, daenerys targaryen, jaime lannister, margaery tyrell, cersei lannister, ramsay bolton, tywin lannister, tyrion lannister, joffrey baratheon, theon greyjoy, viserys targaryen, oberyn martell, bronn of the blackwater, edmure tully, ygritte

- house of the dragon - otto hightower, alicent hightower, gwayne hightower, daemon targaryen, rhaenyra targaryen, aegon 'the elder' targaryen, aemond targaryen, jacaerys velaryon, mysaria, alys rivers, addam of hull, ser criston cole

- from - ellis stevens, sara myers, nathan myers, kenny liu, fatima hassan, randall kirkland, jade herrera, tabitha matthews, jim matthews, boyd stevens, julie matthews (platonic), victor kavanaugh (platonic), kristi miller, marielle sinclair

- elementary - sherlock holmes, joan watson, marcus bell, mycroft holmes, jamie moriarty, odin reichenbach, gareth lestrade

- criminal minds - aaron hotchner, jennifer jareau, kate callahan, emily prentiss, elle greenaway, spencer reid, derek morgan, luke alvez, penelope garcia, tara lewis, jason gideon, david rossi, will lamontagne

- bones - zack addy, seeley booth, temperance brennan, angela montenegro, jack hodgins, camille saroyan, lance sweets, daisy wick, arastoo vaziri, jessica warren, finn abernathy, vincent nigel-murray, wendell bray

- castle - kate beckett, richard castle, javier esposito, kevin ryan, lanie parish, tom demming, hayley shipton, alexis castle (platonic)

- gotham - jim gordon, barbara kean, victor zsasz, oswald cobblepot, edward nygma, sofia falcone, jerome valeska, jeremiah valeska, tabitha galavan

- brooklyn 99 - rosa diaz, gina linetti

- shadow & bone - genya safin, kaz brekker, nikolai lantsov, jesper fahey, zoya nazyalensky, nina zenik, inej ghafa, matthias helvar

╰┈➤ books ₊❏❜ ⋮ ⌒

- a song of ice and fire series (mostly fire & blood) - arianne martell, young griff "aegon", aegon ' the conqueror' targaryen, rhaenys 'the conqueror' targaryen, visenya 'the conqueror' targaryen, maegor targaryen, rhaena targaryen, aemon targaryen, baelon targaryen, aegon 'the younger' targaryen, viserys ii targaryen, aemon 'the dragonknight' targaryen, daemon blackfyre, shiera seastar, daemon blackfyre

- the secret history - julian morrow, richard papen, henry winter, camilla macaulay, charles macaulay, edmund 'bunny' corcoran

- the folk of the air - jude duarte, cardan greenbriar, locke, nicasia, valerian, dain greenbriar, the ghost, the roach, the bomb, liriope

- house of hollow - iris hollow, vivi hollow, grey hollow, tyler yang

[d8nielaa]

babygirl curtis is so sad bc she misses her mama and daddy, i forget how old you said she was when they died. i just imagine babygirl climbing into bed with soda and just sobbing and then everyone ends up in sodas room because he's the most comforting. and all the curtis children are crying and holding each other and fall asleep in a pile

Author's Note: ohh anon- MY HEART I CANT. Babygirl Curtis protecters unite 🫡 If I'm being honest, I don't even remember how old she was either so I'm just guessing lol

We're gonna be okay?

Curtis Brothers x Babygirl Curtis (OC)

Babygirl was 10 years old when the cops came. She was sitting with Ponyboy on the floor, Sodapop above them on the couch as they all watched cartoons. While Darrel was at the kitchen table, getting his homework done.

Darrel was supposed to graduate from high school and go to college. He was supposed to have a better life..

The whole day was a blur, filled with pure tears, anger, and grief. That day was tough for the Curtis siblings.

Babygirl was the first to cry, and managed to cry the whole night. It took Darry and Sodapop to get her to calm down. They did everything. They read to her, tried to cuddle with her (tried because she would lash out and push them away every time they did), gave her milk (which she threw right back up due to the tears). They even had to give her some puffs of her inhaler since her sobs were making it hard to breathe. Before eventually, letting her tire herself out and fall asleep on their parents bed.

The bed they'd never come back too.

Ponyboy and Sodapop were next, but thankfully Pony wasn't too bad. Sodapop on the other hand, well he also threw up.

Darrel managed to get Pony and Soda to their beds, before making his way to Babygirl, who was dead asleep.

That's when Darry finally broke.

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It was late at night, 2:38 am to be exact, when Babygirl woke up in a cold sweat, with tears running down her face.

She turned to Darry, who was dead asleep. She didn't want to wake him up, not after the news they had just gotten. So, she got up, and creeped her way into Soda and Ponyboy's shared room, climbing onto Soda's bed.

"mhh-soda" Babygirl whined, gently tapping his shoulder. Sodapop was a deep sleeper, but it was like he had an extra sense for Babygirl. He instantly woke up, scrambling to get up and hold his younger sister.

"Oh baby-baby what's wrong?" He asked, hulling her onto his lap while rubbing her arms.

"I miss-i miss em'.. s-so much" Babygirl muttered out, tears threatening to spill from her eyes as Sodapop sighed, and brought her in for a tight hug.

He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, rubbing her back as his grip on her only got tighter.

Ponyboy seemed to wake up at this, and wordlessly made his way over to the two, silent tears spilling from his eyes as he came to Sodapop's side. He reached out, gently taking Babygirl's hand in his, while leaning on Soda.

Babygirl and Ponyboy cried, while Sodapop tried to shush them as much as he could.

Unfortunately he couldn't, and Darry woke up, walking into the room with an unreadable expression his face.

He watched his three younger siblings for a moment, before sitting down on Sodapop's other side, lifting Babygirl's legs to place on his lap.

And for a while, that's how they sat. The two youngest crying to their hearts content, while the two oldest just sat there, not knowing what to do besides comfort them.

But Ponyboy knew, he knew, that they were going to be okay.

"We're gonna be okay" He muttered, staring up at his siblings.

"We're gonna be okay?" Babygirl asked confusedly, wiping the last of her tears from her cheeks.

"Yeah baby, we're gonna be okay"

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Authors Note: hello again! I'm so happy that you guys enjoy Bunny and Babygirl, they are in my heart always. I also hc in my mind that Babygirl has a slight form of asthma, which makes her less athletic than Pony. Also I’m pretty sure that’s ryan vasquez in the pic and not brent comer but hey-it’s okay

[ave-aria]

For @rotgsecretsanta prompt 14: Jack and Bunny investigating a crashed spaceship! ...There was a fic planned, but it’s in various stages of Doesn’t Like Me Right Now, so have a snippet instead.

-

Hollow Spaces

“See? Weird, giant... metal... cave. Thing.” Jack finished eloquently, gesturing to the open space.

It wasn’t a cave. E Aster Bunnymund knew that down to his bones. Despite the wear and tear, the weathered metal and the cracks littering the hull, and the fog obscuring the ground--he could still recognize it. The domed shape, the elegant archways, the broken, ancient technology littering the narrow path.

“--Mate, you don’t understand,” Aster said, awed. “This isn’t a cave. It’s a buried Alien Spaceship.”

“What?” Jack echoed, confused. “No? There’s no way it’s a--”

Aster could hear as Jack’s voice died in his throat as he looked around, examining the surroundings with a new eye. In Aster’s peripheral vision, he saw Jack do a 180, then snap back to face him with a blush.

Jack cleared his throat. “--Alright, in my defense,” he started up again, “I found this place WAY before anyone was ever talking about extraterrestrials. So.”

Aster almost couldn’t speak, he was so overwhelmed. But the words needed to be said. Spoken, perhaps, into existence. Swallowing, he forced out a whisper, immeasurably small and breathless.

“...It’s Pookan.”

“Well, I knew THAT,” Jack rolled his eyes. “I recognized the sigil on the door. But I just - I thought it was yours?”

Aster laughed, something between bitter and disbelief. “It’s not.”

“But-” Jack started, then immediately went quiet, understanding the implications. The ancient race, the spacefaring Pooka, the genocide. “Wait... if it’s not yours... Then who’s is it?”

“That’s the million dollar question, yeah,” Aster said, closing his eyes for a brief second before the need to see--to keep an eye on this anomaly, this impossibility, to keep it from vanishing from underneath his nose--forced his eyes open again. He looked upon halls he never thought he’d ever see again, rolling out in all directions, an endless possibility. And he frowned. “...Whose indeed.”

-

[atonalginger]

Snippet Sunday Monday-Funday!

Thank you for the tag @eridanidreams!

I've been meaning to share stuff and then the wednesdays and sundays roll by and I forget. And yes, it is Monday but hey! Still a good time to share!

I haven't been writing as much as usual do to a lot of stress this past month compounding with the stress I've had all spring-summer with a medical issue I think I've finally gotten squared away! and Hopefully September treats me better....

Now what to share...that is the question. I couldn't decide and expressed as much in the coemancer discord and @silent-moons-camp suggested a sentence of each thing I mentioned I could share. And I think they might be onto something so I'm going to do something like that. More than a sentence but not too much from several points in the upcoming Wild West party fic. All under the cut because otherwise this post would get unruly! There will be shenanigans. Angst. Emotions. Del getting gussied up.

first is some cat burglary shenanigans. Rokov and Doc Melody end up breaking into the Delgado Manor in the Core District for...reasons and have very specific instructions from Del.

Retrieve a specific old stuffed chihuahua from his childhood room.

Trash that fucking room

So...

When he stepped through the side door he saw the bag near the door already full. A commotion down the hall, complete with what sounded the hiss of a hull leak, made him freeze in place. That’s impossible, he thought as he furrowed his brow.

“I got the puppy,” Jay said, her hand appearing out of the doorway with the gold toy chihuahua in her hands. It was tattered, the red collar faded from time and little bald spots on the fabric, but otherwise in good condition. Signs of a toy well loved, “don’t worry I’ll leave some for you.”

“What are you doing in there?” he asked, hesitant to take a step with the call of the Blackest Sea still hissing in the house.

“He said to wreck the room,” the puppy bounced upward as she shrugged, “I thought you were excited for this.”

“I was…” Rokov walked down the hallway and accepted the toy from her. He could see loose stitches that struggled to hold the tail and several of the legs on. The stitches were rougher and with a black thread that stood out from the gold fabric. Someone hurt you and then put you back together. Question is who and why?

Rokov looked into the room and saw a mass of stuff: furniture, posters, loose objects, papers, bedding, and more, being pulled to a point near but not on the ceiling. The force ripping, tearing, and cracking the various materials as they tangled around one another. As he stared the hissing stopped and everything fell to the floor.

“What was that?”

“A gravity well,” Jay answered like it was no big deal, “I’d never really used it before, could never get the timing right in combat for it to be effective and if I’m not careful it could pull Sam into it.”

“You…how?” Rokov asked as he carefully tucked their prize into his coat pocket, “what are you using to do this?”

“Focus on the task at hand,” she reached up and gave his cheek a pat.

--

Next is angst. Fallout of the score of mementos brought back from the manor.

“What happened?” she pointed to the missing eyes.

“My little sister wanted to play with Marisol and I said no. She ran to Papa and he made me hand her over. Lupe was so mad at me at that point that she hurt Mari to punish me. I found the all the parts but could never figure out how to fix the eyes. She’d broken the stem with the sewing hole and glue never worked.”

“Poor Marisol,” Sophie gave the ashta a few loving strokes and then laid her back on top of the bag. He figured she’d go for another toy, continue exploring his past, and was nearly knocked over with the big hug his little bunny hit him with. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around her as she mumbled into his shoulder, “I’m sorry she did that to you Papa.”

“I am too, conejita,” he closed his eyes and settled onto the floor with his back to the bed, “To be fair to Lupe, she was very little when it happened. Younger than you. That destruction was her mimicking what she’d seen.”

“But you didn’t hurt your friends,” Sophie let go and went back to the bag to look at the others, “did you?”

“No,” he watched her as she pulled a stuffed trilobite, red with most of the limbs missing. Her jaw dropped as she looked over the mostly flat friend, her little hands tracing over the places where little legs should be.

“Did tia do this too?” Sophie held old Rio out to him.

He accepted Rio with a sad smile, marveling at just how flat she’d become from all those years in the bottom of that chest. He ran his fingers over the textured fabric before sitting the trilobite on his knees, “no, Lupe was innocent here.”

“What happened?” Sophie asked.

“I made my Papa mad,” he said in a hushed tone, “I was your age. Don’t remember what caused it, not that it matters. But he took Rio’s legs for it. Abuelo Rafa stitched up her body when he got home that night after he couldn’t find her legs.”

“And this one?” she held up a stuffed mossgnath, Paz, the tail and several legs reattached and the neck permanently bend after the foam rod was ripped out.

“Papa,” he admitted.

She sat down next to him with Paz still in her arms and leaned her head against his arm, “and all the other friends in that bag?”

He hugged his little girl tight, his nose buried in her blonde waves as he fought back more tears. She hugged him back, a little hand clinging to his flannel shirt tight. She didn’t need her Papa falling apart, now or ever. He was one of her rocks, a protector, someone who ensured she was safe and happy. It was all in the past anyway, he kept reminding himself as he pushed the painful emotions back into their holes, it shouldn’t hurt anymore.

--

for something lighter here's some Manny and Cora

Cora turned her body and brought her leg up onto the bale, her shin pressed against Manny’s thigh with her foot playfully hooking the outside of their knee. They placed a hand on her ankle, a subtle smile curling their lip as their cheeks turned red. Cora noted the reaction and tapped her foot against their knee a few times, “so a meeting of the black sheep?”

“Something like that,” Manny nodded, “Without getting into the weeds, Abuela Rosa stole something from her mama while she was on her deathbed. Something that was supposed to go to this cousin’s mother. Apparently Tio Gabi now has this thing. And he wanted to give it to his cousin because it’s technically hers by rights and family tradition. She was touched but refused to take the thing, insisting he keep it.”

“She’s scared of Rosa.”

“Si,” Manny made a face, “and I can’t blame her. Neither can he. She had an idea of what he could do with the thing and even put it in writing but it wasn’t what he’d hoped.”

“He wanted to fix something broken in the family,” Cora said, “wanted to feel like he could right a wrong.”

Manny tapped their index finger against Cora’s calf, “exactly.”

“We should let him know Sophie’s worried about him. He might be able to explain that he wasn’t so much sad as disappointed and that everything’s fine.”

“Good idea,” Manny grinned more openly, “you always know what to do.”

“Not always,” Cora shrugged, “I just get lucky.”

Manny laughed, “don’t be modest, it doesn’t suit you.”

--

And Del getting gussied up for the big party

He finished buttoning up his collar and carefully tied his red silk bow tie in the mirror, fluffing the loops and smoothing the ends so it looked nice and full for when the guests arrived. He wasn’t sure how long it would last seeing as he made it all of an hour yesterday before he pulled it loose. He was used to a scarf looped loosely around his neck and shoulder, not this thing tied snugly around his throat.

Delgado grabbed his black jacket and shrugged it on, smoothing the lapels and freeing his bow from the collar. He usually hated wearing suits, an early life of being made to dress up for bullshit he didn’t care about coloring his opinion of them, but he had to admit he looked pretty good in the mishmash of late 1800’s Earth fashion. There was more color, patterns, and life to the suit. It didn’t seem to be about being uniform with everyone else like the suits of today and instead allowed a man to express himself.

He walked back over to the desk and picked up the pink silk square, quickly folding it up and tucking it into his jacket pocket. It was funny the little things he retained from his youth, the pocket square folds his abuelo taught him being one of them. He chose a rose fold, a forgiving fold as there were no precise corners that looked like a budding pink rose in his pocket.

[lagolepuri]

#3: Tempest

GONG

In the hangar of Thaumazein, a sound rang through the empty space like a tin wash basin flung from a roof. Then there was silence. This had been going on all morning, and the staff of Sharlayan’s formerly secret facility were more than a little on edge.

GONG

The first time it happened, it was written off. Perhaps some clumsy researcher had simply dropped a tool onto the metal floor or tripped and planted their face into the side of one of the many aether repositories. It wouldn’t have been the first time. When it happened a second time, each member of the team cringed from the second-hand embarrassment of someone undoubtedly having a bad day. But as the day went on, the noise took on an ever—GONG—more insistent—GONG—frequency that defied casual disregard.

“Didisa!” called out Everilda, a dark-complected hyur who was the most senior researcher on duty that day. “Round up all the members of research and maintenance and have them convene outside. The building is to be evacuated until we can rule out any danger and confirm security. For that matter, when you’ve done that, find out where in seven hells our security detail has gotten off to!”

“On it, boss!” the lalafell called out as she bounded off around the circuit of the shipyard.

“Shall I sweep in the other direction?” asked another hyuran researcher nearby.

“No, come with me, Cutbert. Help me scour our sensor data.”

Above them the great ark ship Ragnarok loomed. Longer than the tallest building on the continent and etched down to the ilm with intricate arcane circuitry, the Ragnarok was the pinnacle of engineering in every discipline known to Sharlayan. A marvel so powerful and so advanced, that since her return from her one and only mission, no further use had been found for her. Tragically, mercifully, there was simply no call for a god-sized tool in a world of hyur-sized problems. So there she simply floated in silent majesty.

GONG

Mostly silent majesty. The hollow, thudding sound seemed to come from the air itself in the huge, open building.

“How does her integrity read?” asked Everilda of Cutbert, as they both stood hunched over cluttered displays of rolling data.

“Hull integrity is perfect,” he replied. “Damage taken in transit from rift-borne particulates was nominal. Almost all of it was handled by regenerative arcanima, and what wasn’t was buffed out by our service lads nearly as soon as she’d docked.”

“What about systems integrity?”

“Every damn team used a different lexicon for their systems’ status signifiers—aetherometrics should have a lecture for them about unified standards now that the world’s not a ticking time bomb—but best as I can tell everything’s well within expected parameters. Aether reserves were all but depleted on the return trip, but what remains of the mothercrystal’s energy has been enough to keep the circuits humming and the radio on.”

On another screen, the loporrit broadcast showed Talkingway happily pointing at a weather map strewn with bunny-eared icons of shining sunbursts. The forecast for today calls for calm winds and unusually clear skies across all of Etheirys.

Everilda gaped, affronted. “That’s been on this whole time? Turn it off! That’s a frivolous use of precious energy resources.”

Deflated, Cutbert complied and the screen flickered off. “Anyroad, there’s nothing in this data that suggests the slightest thing wrong with our girl.”

Everilda furrowed her brow in thought. “We’re going to have to start looking at alternative theories, then. Maybe something’s come up from the aetherial sea to cause this mischief.”

“You’re saying we’ve got a ghost?” Cutbert asked, astonished.

At that moment a loud metallic clamor rang through the hangar that most assuredly was caused by some clumsy researcher dropping a spanner on the metal floor. “Sorry!” called a voice from across the space.

Everilda sighed. “Perhaps we should go over this data again before we present our colleagues with any wild hypotheses.”

GONG

“Wait,” said Cutbert. “Take a look at this.” He paused the data crawl and rolled it back several seconds. “Watch this graph here.” The two glared intently at a row of low bars. For a long while there was no motion, but suddenly one bar jumped, a subtle but significant amount, and only for a moment. “That spike coincided with the sound. These are the energy level readouts for the aetherial reservoirs. It looks like our culprit might be a fault in aether cell six.”

“Alright, let’s take a look. Better get your helmet on. I don’t know what happens if these things rupture.”

The two rode a lift to the rear of the ship, now fully armored and looking like a patrol of the late Allagan empire. The platform halted just to the right of the massive ship’s tailfin.

“Well,” Cutbert offered, “There’s no obvious superficial damage, which is in line with the reports of structural integrity sensors.”

Everilda nodded. “No obstruction is apparent in the ducts and the seals look pristine. Let’s climb down onto the hull and get a closer—”

GONG

The two stared at each other through paned visors. Was it only due to their proximity that they could now feel the sound pound through their armor into their chests or had it gotten much, much stronger?

GONG

GONG

GONG GONG GONGONGONG

“Get down!” shouted Everilda, diving for the mobile platforms emergency locks before throwing herself against it.

A shrill, continuous screeching noise began to rise from the Ragnarok and moments later air around them exploded into whirling motion.

Everilda dragged herself to her feet against the railing. “Did the engines activate?!” she shouted.

“That’s not it! Look!” Cutbert pointed at a jagged green shape flitting chaotically around them.

The wild, shrieking shape circles the room in erratic arcs, cutting sharply towards the ceiling before flipping downward for a new approach.

“By the Twelve,” Everilda muttered almost too low to hear, then at the top of her lungs, “Open the—!”

But it was too late. In a sudden zip, the creature punched through the shuttered roof of Thaumazein, showering the room in broken titanium panels.

On the moon, Talkingway flipped over the back of their broadcasting desk as a brilliant streak tore across the weather map from the Northern Empty to the Black Shroud. The grinning sun graphics all flipped to reveal angry-looking clouds with puffed cheeks.

As the streak raced over Gridania towards the Howling Eye, the barracks of the Twin Adders erupted into high alert. Could a fully realized primal be trusted to exist in harmony with the land?

Over Fallgourd Float, a crew of Ixal gripped the rails of their experimental airship against the shockwave. Could the Ehcatl Nine embrace a goddess with no more need of false promises?

At Natalan, in Coerthas, tethered war balloons swayed in unison at the sudden rush of wind. After a history of bitterness and struggle, how would the Ixal respond to a version of their cruel goddess with no more need for conquest and sacrifice?

At the Howling Eye itself, the wind swirling through the cairn stones resonated with a warmer, more harmonious tone. None could say how the world would react to a properly created primal. But so long as the wind blows freely, perhaps all is as it should be in creation.

[hand-writxen]

Bruises

TW// Mentions of abuse and bullying.

The beeping of your phone jolts you out of your sleep, you struggle for a moment as the phone vanishes into your sheets. After a few moments of getting tangled in the sheets, you are able to snag your phone and pick it up.

“Hello?” you ask, your voice raspy with sleep. Theres soft sniffles and a hiccup on the other line that causes you to pull the phone away and check the contact name which read ‘Bunny’. “Leo? Are you there?” The hiccups freeze a moment before shuffling sounds and the line gets clearer.

“Oh gosh- Y/N, im so sorry I thought I hung up. Please dont worry about it.” His voice was raspy and cracked with tears, the sound of wind and rain splattlatering in the background could clearly be heard. Your head rises as you glace out the window taking in the sight of rain and thunder.

“Leopold Stotch, Are you outside right now?” You quickly get up and start to pull on a hoodie and some sweats overtop your sleep wear and pick your way across your room to your boots, silence on the other end of the phone being the response to your question. Knowing the blonde wont answer you quickly struggle your boots on and race out of your room and out the door, your brain running a mile a minute as you slip through puddles and ice. “Leo you gotta tell me please?” The sniffling finally settles a bit as he takes a breath.

“M..My Lair.” His voice is soft but still full of pain and tears. You utter a soft farewell and push yourself to run faster as you put your phone in your pocket. Turning the corner past Kyle’s house the U-Store it facility looms ahead as you quickly prepare yourself to scale the fence like you had as a kid, Quickly throwing yourself at the fence you scrabble for a hold on the wet metal as you struggle abit to hull yourself over. Once you get over the top you let yourself jump and roll before quickly jogging off into the maze of buildings. 

The pace of your jog lead you quickly to the storage locker you knew as ‘Professor Chaos’ base’. You knock softly before pulling open the side door of the storage locker. 

“You know Leo, I still find it funny you’ve had this storage locker for 9 years and they havnt once questioned the fact you all but moved in here.” You say as you scan the cozy set up of the locker, Leo had hung string lights and set it up like a studio apartment minus the bathroom. The tall blonde laughed a little, looking over at you, the smile wiped off your face quickly upon seeing the bruise shining on his cheek. Without another moment you quickly rush over and take his face into your hands and softly rub your thumb across the black and blue skin causing him to flinch and whimper. 

“Y/N, that hurts..” his voice is a croaky whine as you withdraw your hands away from his face with a muffled apology, taking the spot next to him on the bed. 

“Leo, hon.. You need to tell someone, you cant just keep hiding the fact that Steven hurts you. I can only hold back so long.” your voice is hard but soothing as you take in his face, scanning for other injuries on his soft pale skin, the scar over his left eye standing out against the dark color of the bruises causes anger to flare up in the pit of your stomach. “Im willing to add another assult to my record to protect you, you know this.” This sentence caused a small giggle and grin to brake out on his lips as you lean back against his arm. 

“I dont know why, what even am I to you? A friend? A sibling? You’ve been following me around since elementary school yet you’ve never once stated what we are, You just get into fights on my account.” He says, his face pulled into a frown. You look up at him before shifting into his line of sight and settling on your knees. 

“You really want me to put into words and actions what you mean to me?” Your eyes are serious but your voice soft. At the nod of his head you lean in quickly and kiss him, The poor soft hearted boy went rigid never having been kissed before. You pull back from him as a small smile graces your lips. “I-I know you might not feel the same but i just had to-.” your words are stolen from you as Leo takes the initiative to kiss you this time, his hands grabbing your hips to drag you into his lap. Your hands quickly find place against his neck, gently cradling his head before you two separate, softly panting with grins. 

“I love you Y/N, Ever since we where kids. I just didnt think you’d want a scrawny screw up as a partner.” His words where as shy as the look on his face, melting your heart in an instant. 

“Leopold, I fell for you the moment you smiled at me on the playground. Thats why I’ve been by your side this whole time.” you could hardly get the words out before Leo was squeezing the air out of your lungs in a tight hug. The two of you laughed and lays next to one another on the bed, looking at the glow in the dark stars you both put on the ceiling. 

“I think I could stand up to my dad if you where there with me.” His whispers as if to not brake the spell over the moment. You grin and slide your hand into his as you laugh softly. 

“I’ve always got your back Leo, and I’ll back you up no matter what.” Your voice was just as soft as your laugh as the two of you share another gentle kiss.

[kind-of-gauche]

Promo poster bunny thoughts:

Saying the word 'rabbit' on a ship was (still is, in some places) considered bad luck for a few reasons. One is a myth "rumoured to have started because the Devil could disguise himself as a rabbit." [X] This is fun in a ~Blackbeard picks the most evil pet known to sailors~ way (thank you @pyratelibrary for this genius thought). They were also one of the forms witches were thought to assume. [X]

The other reason is that rabbits kept as livestock "had a tendency to nibble on the hemp ropes and especially the hemp stuffing that caulked the hull." [X] These sweet buns would inadvertently sink ships.

Anyway I'm hoping it's Ed's pink plushie but maybe this cutie casually leads to the Revenge's demise. 😬😬

[therehavebeenstranger]

Befuckled 

by Josh Tvrdy

Nickel my tipples.  Piff my snit.  Bondle my falls.  Pound my see-see with a metal straw.  Miss in my powth.  Huck my foal while you bub my rack  with lemon-oil.  Muck fee. Muck fee  raw. Burrow inside  my petty swits with your tongue. Hum  in my coal. Make me  your dewman humpster, your dum-cump,  your gayby burl  your piggy. Hull my pear.  Night my beck.  Tither your slung inside my ear  and fack me with your jeet. Call me  bunny-hair, chide sick,  your bexiest soy. Babe,  shove your pretty case inside my frack  and feast.

(via underblong)

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Chapter 3: Splendid Moment

Narrated by Marina.

Aeon: Marina? I’m done for the day. You...

Narrator: I turned around and blinked to Aeon, who’s freshly out of the lab.

Narrator: And he blinked, too, stupefied, as if having trouble comprehending what he saw.

Narrator: I stumbled down the highchair, leaving a row of colorful hand-prints.

Marina: Oh, you’re done?

Aeon: What happened while I was away? Some kind of pirate game?

Marina: No! I’m opening up a door to Miraland, right here!

Narrator: I pointed at the wall covered in explosive calculations, jumping, hopping.

Marina: Here, here, and there. Boom! Then the hull opens up and we are heading for Miraland!

Marina: Genius, right?!

Narrator: I explained my grand plan to Aeon, pointing at corners of the room trashed by failed experiments.

Narrator: But the look on Aeon’s face was kind of identical to how I looked listening to him explaining his experiments.

Aeon: For real? This room looks like it’s undergone a dozen or so miniature explosions...

Narrator: Aeon touched those scarred walls, still in shock.

Marina: Whatever. I will keep on with the plan even if you’re mad at me!

Narrator: I had it all planned out. If Aeon tried to catch me, I’d escape from beneath the table, to where he couldn’t reach.

Narrator: But after a while, he just bent down and caressed my hair.

Aeon: No. I’m not mad.

Narrator: He said that, with eyebrows twisted into a knot, as if thinking hard about something.

Narrator: About repairing the Ark? Or something else?

Aeon: Oh, right. I want to show you something, Marina.

Marina: What? No, wait. You’re trying to fool me again, right?

Aeon: Just follow me.

Narrator: Aeon extended his hand to me, smiling so gently.

Aeon: Stay at your own loss.

Narrator: He seemed to really have something for me. I hesitated, gave him my paint-crusted hand.

Narrator: Out of the cabin, Aeon led me to the open deck.

Narrator: The Ocean of Memories boiled around the Ark. Countless stars adorned the dark blue sky.

Aeon: The experiment is not going anywhere yet, but I made you a little present.

Narrator: He pointed at a disk mounted on a platform. It’s small, about half the height of Mr. Bunny.

Marina: What’s this?

Aeon: I made some gunpowder with lab supplies, and then some fireworks.

Narrator: My heart skipped a beat, as my eyes widened.

Marina: Fireworks... you said?

Aeon: Yes. Let’s light it up.

Narrator: Aeon took out a spark lighter and held my hand. Together, we lit the fuse.

Marina: It’s burning! Woah! It’s burning!

Narrator: Aeon dragged me backward to maintain a safe distance. The fuse burned up pretty soon, disappearing into the disk.

Narrator: Then, with a loud BOOM, a golden star shot up into the sky.

Narrator: I follows its trail, not wanting to even blink.

Narrator: The star exploded again into a myriad of golden threads, cutting up the night sky in a random pattern.

Narrator: Silver and golden sparks twinkled, as if the entire galaxy was shaken.

Narrator: That’s the end of our fireworks, in a blink.

Marina: Now it’s gone...

Aeon: That’s all I can do right now. Single shot, silver and gold, random pattern. Running out of materials, too.

Marina: It’s great! Super! You’re the most awesome brother in the world!

Narrator: He looked relieved and opened his arms. I leapt at him for a hearty hug.

Marina: I’ll forgive you this time!

Aeon: Great! Next, repairing the Ark...

Narrator: I buried my face in his neck to shut him up.

Marina: CAN’T HEAR YOU!

Choose either “Have you given up on the idea of going to Miraland, Marina?” or “Is it better than the fireworks in Miraland?”

If “give up,” ...

You: So you don’t want to go to Miraland anymore?

Narrator: Of course I do! With your fireworks... I want to be at their carnival even more!

If “better,” ...

You: Which is better, this or the show at Miraland?

Narrator: The Miraland’s, of course! With so many colors!

Narrator: But Aeon’s is one of a kind. I will never forget about it.

--

Marina: I’ve made up my mind!

Narrator: I shouted without warning. Aeon, who was cleaning up, stood up straight and waited for my announcement.

Aeon: Hm?

Marina: When I make it to Miraland, I will be a fireworks artist!

Aeon: Aren’t you supposed to be a designer, stylist, confectioner and gourmet chef, among other things?

Marina: Add fireworks artist to the list! Marina the Genius will invent the most astonishing fireworks!

Narrator: I was lost in my bright future. It must be a grand sight, my own fireworks blooming all over Miraland.

Narrator: The carnival in the mirror had come to an end. People bade each other farewell, exchanging latest news.

Narrator: The world on the other side was a vibrant and free one, of markets, lights, fireworks, and so many things of beauty.

Narrator: Eventually, I will be there, taking my lab-grown dumb brother with me.

Narrator: The fireworks we make will be the largest and most magnificent.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[weaversweek]

29 "Piano in the dark" - Brenda Russell

writer Brenda Russell, Jeff Hull, Scott Cutler

"Write from your heart for yourself because that's your highest point."

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

It's late October, the nights are drawing in. Take an evening for yourself: lights down low, mug of hot chocolate, perhaps the company of someone you like. Listen to Brenda Russell's album Get Here. It's got the song you know from Oleta Adams' singing. It's got "Le restaurant", with a smooth jazzy solo. And, at the centre, "Piano in the dark".

The song of a woman who is a little bored, who thinks about moving on to some other bloke. Perhaps she wants variety, perhaps he's not getting it up. And then he sits down at the piano, and all the worries and cares wash away, she remembers why she still likes him.

Brenda's performance is someone who utterly owns the song, it is a part of her. The vocals are gentle and warm, like the Caramel Bunny. The piano part is an extension to the words, everything meshes so beautifully. Joe Esposito provides the backing vocals, and the instrumentation is sparse without ever being light.

Label boss Herb Alpert insisted that this would be the first single from the album, on the reasonably simple grounds that it evokes a mood, the late-night doubts being soothed away, like the cards Brenda tosses in the video.

Nominated for the Song of the Year Grammy, but lost to "Don't worry, be happy" (which I haven't seen nominated by anyone in #UncoolTwo50, which feels about right).