#but it ended up just being an urban jungle like always

[wolfavens]

priya's new ciudad enamorada place 🪴

[thehiddengame]

Danny Phantom Au Idea: SplitSoul Au

Wanted to try writing a fanfic but gave up because the characters kept becoming ooc. But I still wanted to get this idea out there so here we are.

An Au that is a mixture of the following concepts I enjoyed reading about over the years:

-Eldritch Danny: Danny becoming some sort of eldritch entity but still keeps most of his personailty and heroic tendencies.

-Ghost Repellent Danny: After the ghost portal inccident Danny didn't become a half ghost but was instead spit out with little to no damage. He's still fully human but for some reason ghost avoid him at all cost. This leads to danny not believing in ghosts becuase they're always gone when he goes near them.

SplitSoul Au Info:

-When Danny entered the portal and turned it on he dies. However Clockwork tried to intervened to keep Danny alive but the result ended both outcomes becoming true but not in the way Clockwork wanted. Instead of Danny becoming a halfa his soul was split in two.

-The majority of the sould stayed with his human body. So Danny Fenton woke up the following morning sore but completly healthly. Thinking he must have just touched something and got shocked, thus knocking himself out, continued living his life as normal.

-A splinter of his soul found itself in the ghost zone. Due to being mostly an empty vessel, a weird interaction the occured when Danny activated the portal while inside of it and the remnants of Clockworks meddling, the splinter was able to greedly devour the ecto energy of the ghost zone and rapidly grow in strength. This resulted in a gaint Eldritch Entity with Danny's heroic tendenties with a deep connection the ghost zone.

-Danny Fentom: Human

-Phantom: Eldritch Ghost

Episode Ideas:

-Mystery Meat: Danny, Sam, Tucker eating lunch when Danny needed to leave(Needing to go to WS, forgot something in class room, or something like that.) Thats when Lunch Lady appears and does her thing. However this time when people try to leave Large ghostly hands ripped into reality and block the exists. The room grows chilly(Green tint appears) as a large rips in space appears in the middle of the cafeteria. Large ghost hads grip the edges and tears the rift open revealing a large humaiod figure with counless arms. The figure attacks the Lunch Lady, evetaully defeating her and dragging her back into the ghost zone via the tears in space. The figure guided by vague ideas and feelings turn their gaze towards a cowering Dash and screams at him before charging. However before the figure can reach dash the doors which seem impossible to open swung open. The chill instinstly dissapear as Danny unaware of what happened apologies to Sam and Tucker for taking so long. However before either of them can comment the bell rung prompting Danny to hurry his freinds so they won't be late for class.

-Episode Cycle: Ghosts would appear, then Phantom would defeat them and before they can go on a rampage Danny would walkin none the wiser of what happened causing Phantom to dissapear.

-Sam and Tucker finding seeing a connecting between Phantom and Danny starts investigation.

-Jazz joins the duo in thier investigation pretty early on because Phantom protected her from a ghost attack.

-His parents try to rope Danny in their ghost hunts especially thier hunt of Phantom but because Danny is with them they alway miss the ghosts.

-Urban Jungle: Gaint kaiju battle of Undergrowth and Phantom

-Bitter Reunions: The family goes to Vlad's as normal. The Phantom follows the valtures to Vlad. Vald and Phantom fight and Vlad would have lost multple times if it weren't for Danny constantly appearing before Phantom can land the finishing blow. Vlad become intrested in taking Phantom's power for himself. He also become intrested in Danny's what he thinks is Anti-Ghost powers. Danny just thinks of Vlad as his parent's weid college freind. Jazz might or might not learn of Vlad's ghost powers.

-The Ultimate Enemy: Instead of the dark future cartoon archetype it is instead becomes future enemies come to the present. Future enemies figure out Danny's and Phantoms connection and thinks that taking out Danny would also take out Phantom but being unable to do that in the future, finds away to send assassins to the past to take out Phantom before he got as strong as he is in the future. Clockwork wanting to stop this(And having more restrictions due to his meddling with Danny's death) decides to send the children on the main cast to the past. Because of my bias and my favourite ships being Danny x Sam and Danny x Ember, it would be the Danny's and Sam's child along with Phantom and Ember's child that Clockwork sends back in time. (I see Phantom becoming for human/becoming their own person as they grow in strength.) At the end the gang goes to the future and sees a glimps of what they can look forward to. I see Danny becoming an astronaut and because he didn't have to worry about ghosts he managed to keep his grades up. While Phatom became the protector of both Earth and the Ghost zone.

That is all I managed to think of. Feel free to use/exapand on this idea as much as you like

[shamelesstragedyenjoyer]

Hi!! Do you have any fav Jason Todd- centric fic recs?? I like your taste in Jason's hc and takes hehe

Needles or Pines by Lanternwisp.

Sometimes Little Reds walk the path of needles, forbidden forests are urban jungles, the Woodsmen don't make it in time and disobedient children get eaten by wolves. It's when the story doesn't have the decency to end there that things get complicated.

No One's Son by Lanternwisp.

When it's revealed to Gotham's underworld that Red Hood is the second Robin and without the Bat Clan's protection, it's not long before every gang, cartel and rogue he's pissed off has him in their crosshairs. It's almost as bad as the "family"'s determination to find him first.

"Maybe Mike had been right after all - Jason is a Gotham kid. A real one, assembled and built with dirt and blood and dark alleyways, and he can't be washed clean of what's him."

Ugly Organs by One_Step_Closer_To_Death.

Jason Todd’s love is a wretched and terrible thing to be on the receiving end of. His grief, on the other hand, is incapacitating.

"How do you say – I think when you held me last, your rib fused with mine, and my marrow now creates your blood, my heart beats in tandem with yours – bones of my bones and flesh of my flesh, brother."

Things That Make it Warm by One_Step_Closer_To_Death.

“I’m not ordering Hawaiian,” Jason says immediately as he pulls up the menu for the local pizza place. [...] “Not even if I say please?” “Fuck that.” Jason says, and orders Hawaiian anyway.

All Roofs of Uncertainty by Kieron_ODuibhir.

For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good.

Reclaiming Innocence by MurtaghMorzanson.

Jason Todd was kidnapped at nine-years-old and given two options. Work for his keep, or be forced to to work for his keep.

When Everything's made to be Broken by WorkingChemestry.

Nobody knows Jason Todd, not really, but there are a few who know these three facts: Jason Todd is a comet—frozen, poisonous, gas and fragmented rock that burns and evaporates as it passes closer to the sun. Jason Todd is a dancer—spinning spinning spinning on shattered bones and slipping on the blood that soaks through his slippers. Jason Todd is laughter—red streaked giggles ringing like tinnitus in a roaring crescendo that drowns out even his own heartbeat.

And since I know you are into SamBucky (stalker-ish of me to be aware of, I know) here's my top 5;

Not the End but The Start Of All Things by Notcaycepollard.

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

Guard The Angel by Silentnun.

"但警惕心还是有的，他尝试性掀起一边眼皮，然后发现整个眼球都肿胀得厉害，太阳穴底下像藏了个不正常的兔子中士，一跃一跃，不得安息。"

A Couple Rebel Top Gun Pilots by Notcaycepollard.

That seems to be the thing that breaks the ice between them; Bucky's never really hung out with Sam before, past being jammed into a too-small car for six hours and then two uncomfortable months in a safehouse trying not to get on each other’s last nerve. [...] He doesn’t notice, is the thing; doesn’t notice how ever since Sam's slept on his couch that night, he’s been letting Bucky closer bit by bit. That, as Bucky’s been wondering about the boundaries and structures of friendship, Sam’s been drawing in.

"There are weeks where he and Sam don't talk, where Bucky realizes they've gone days and days without seeing each other, and it always makes him think of the interiority of Sam's life. All the people he must know who Bucky's never met, the friends he has that are just names in his mouth.

It leaves this strange ache in his chest.[...]And he remembers what it was like to pour himself into somebody, the boundaries of their life and his blurring until it’s difficult to find the edges."

Diving Blind by Yukla.

Sam's about to exit out of the page and nag at Sarah for becoming a gossip-rag-follower when a voice starts piping out of his phone’s speaker. “Breaking news on our favorite superhero couple,” says the host of the show, bright and plasticky under the studio lights. “That’s right, folks! We’ve got solid evidence that the Cap and Winter Soldier romance is real—” Sam’s finger slams down on the pause button. What, he thinks, the hell.

I want to Feel Your Hearlines by Notcaycepollard.

The first time he watches Sam fall asleep, they’re in the stupid tiny car on the autobahn. Bucky stares at the back of Sam’s head, ignores how cramped his legs are. Watches Sam’s head slowly sink back and sideways until it’s slumped into the gap between the seat and the window. If he triangulates between the wing and rear-view mirrors, Bucky can see Sam’s face, slack with sleep, mouth soft. He wants to look and he doesn’t. He doesn’t know Sam Wilson at all, knows only that he doesn’t trust Bucky - an accurate assessment of Bucky’s threat level, Bucky thinks - and that he does trust Steve (also accurate, although probably stupid). Sam looks vulnerable, like this.

“It's fine,” Bucky says again, and means, you're warm, and means, you make me want to be gentle, and means, touch me again like I'm a person. Like you can take comfort from me."

"They sleep, and they sleep, fitting together in every bed for months, breath mingling and heartbeats blurring together until Bucky thinks Sam must carry both their hearts in his own chest."

[thathomestar]

raising the bar: redux is an interesting mod so far. it tries to recreate how half-life 2 might have looked if valve had kept their original vision for a darker dystopia, and takes heavy reference from concept art, early development video, and the leaked content. there's always a part of me that tends to gravitate towards the darker, edgier types of stories and tones, but i'm kinda glad the half-life 2 we got was the way it was.

regardless of my feelings on the gameplay of this mod, it's so cool to see these concepts realized in an actual playable 3d space. for the most part the only way we've been able to explore these cut ideas was to soak up some low-res video, the art from the raising the bar book, and the leaked content and just try to imagine it. to try and piece everything together in a real project is admirable.

it's pretty funny seeing the consul just be a hairless breen with a thick eastern european accent. the skyboxes and backgrounds to this version of city 17 make it feel much larger in scale, like it's a truly sprawling urban jungle. seeing cremators lumbering around the place roasting corpses was fun too.

speaking of, if it was cut or changed for half life 2, it's back in this mod as its first concept. houndeyes and bullsquids are back, cremators are an enemy you can actually fight, alyx vance isn't related to eli, mossman is in charge of an arctic submarine resistance group, etc. we've got manhack arcades, kraken base, eli's scrapyard, the whole shebang. the mod is currently only up to the end of ravenholm (if you include the demo for the next bit, then it's up to nova prospekt, with the wasteland/coast chapters coming after that).

how they've actually structured all of this is okay for the most part, with some parts like the city introduction and route kanal equivalent going on a bit long, and the airboat section suffering from being too cramped and cluttered, making it hard to keep the airboat from crashing into things. mercifully it's like half the length of water hazard, so at least it doesn't wear out its welcome. ravenholm goes on maybe a little long too, but you get to sink your teeth on all the fun stuff that comes with being in ravenholm so its not too bad.

this is definitely worth checking out if you've ever had brainworms about the concept art or in-dev versions of half life 2. my only problem is where are the free tvs?!

[cauli-flawa]

Re-Introducing the Tropicanus

They are colorful, laid back, plant-loving jungle-dwellers who are resilient to disease and can spit acid. They're great with plants and medicine, but are bad at melee combat and suck at mining. The tropicanus is known for being a peaceful xenotype, valuing cooperation over competitiveness. Jungle life is hard enough for the average human, and tropicanines have adapted accordingly. With their dextrious tails, knowledge of herbs, strong immune systems, and adaptation to hotter environments, they thrive in dense rainforests and tropical swamps. Their vibrant coloration is meant to mimic that of poisonous animals, to ward off predators.

They are generally peaceful and laid-back, but are more than capable of dealing serious damage if provoked. They can spit deadly acid that can melt skin from bone. Luckily, they only ever use it as a last resort. Tropicanines are prone to sleepiness, vulnerable to the cold, and are physically weak. This makes them bad at melee brawls and mining.

Tropicanines have always been a rare xenotype. They were once found in small tropical islands, living and thriving unnoticed by major factions. They would often greet explorers and castaways with kindness and hospitality. Despite their kindness, their isolated lifestyles can make some tribes unexpectedly xenophobic.

Deforestation, exploitation from urbworld megacorporations, slavery, and pollution have caused most tropicanines to either die out or migrate to urban planets, where they are treated more like exotic creatures than humans. In the urban world, tropicanines try to pursue a life of social work and charity, but mostly just end up as concubines or house servants. In the worst of cases, they are kidnapped off the streets or from their island homes to be sold as human ornaments or slaves.

[zet-zets-blog]

Spring 2023- one of the darkest periods of my life. Why didn't anyone warn me of how much of a rollercoaster ride entering your 30s would be?! This was also my last semester in grad school. I did a very expensive and not really worth it (tbh) urban planning degree from Columbia- a university that truly sucks the life out of you. I am describing that feeling here as: imagine yourself living in an ongoing gentrified neighborhood that's OVER policed, a food desert with alot of New York transplants that also happen to be very wealthy and have huge egos. YEAH- that was the start of my 2023.

Broke off my engagement because my ex partner had the audacity to ask me for an open relationship BEFORE our wedding this year?! AND HOOKED UP WITH MY BEST FRIEND IN GRAD SCHOOL literally after a couple of days of us being broken up?! Him and this ex bestfriend were there during the funeral I held for my sister. Sooo, Yeah no...

Ended up starting the year with a broken heart, that's still grieving their sister's death WHILE ALSO writing a thesis so I can graduate my grad program! I honestly cannot emphasize how stacked life felt like during the beginning months of this year. I was in a really REALLY dark place, and its interesting too because these were the moments where I learned SO MUCH about myself and just life and love in general.

Grief has a way of asking you your whys. Why are you living here? Why are you in grad school? Why columbia? What are you doing with your life? Are you even happy? Is that prestige really worth it? What ARE your values and are you living by them? Do you like yourself? What do you truly want? What is life? Like seriously, what is life? Its as if, you had to answer every question all at once or else you just fall in an eternal abyss.

And yet, the journey of grief is SO WORTH IT. The amount of peace you find at the end of that dark dark tunnel is euphoric- A NATURAL HIGH.

Hello dear readers (well whoever you may be!)

My name is Zet, I'm a storyteller that's currently living the 3rd decade of her life in this charming neighborhood called Sunset Park. I LOVE IT HERE! After being surrounded by ivy league kids and out of touch professors I have officially got myself out of the hellhole that is Manhattanville. I'm living in a majority immigrant enclave now, where I can wheel my granny cart to TONS of ethnic grocery stores! I live in this prewar apartment building, where I will need to climb three flights of stairs everyday. Finally living a life where I am completely... alone. I've also become that JOMO (joy of missing out) Tita- I just like smoking with friends at my fire escape, I schedule 10-year plan video-call hangouts with friends that live in other cities. At 30, I am WAAY more reflective, chill and genuinely content with how life feels and looks like right now. <3 It's funny how much can change in just a year. How much CAN HAPPEN within a year. How your life can completely turn a 180, be at your lowest point where you truly let the darkness take over you to a period in your life where you're seeing the magic in life's everyday.

If you would've asked me when I was 16 if I see myself living in this CONCRETE JUNGLE new york city, living alone in a 1 bed apt. , and still pursuing my writing? I would laugh so much and might also tell you to pray for me. Yeah, how can this Palayog girl live a life just like in the romcom movies and tv shows that she grew up watching? It's WIILD! I think I really did underestimate myself back then. You see, I've always felt like I was just existing since I was four. Life has always felt so random and too dramatic that I had convinced myself that I am in just a VERY LONG life simulation. Yet, here I am, existing and thriving, surrounded by so much love and genuine friendships. <3 Still living a full life, working for that true post-colonial world that's driven by community care.

[alexandriaisburning]

+003: Desert Strike EP

Addendums, Archives and Appendecies is extra, off topic writing in addition to the regular CANON FIRE entries. You can support more writing like this on Patreon.

Based on Electronic Arts’ game of the same name, Fatima Al-Qadiri’s Desert Strike EP is a “soundtrack to a virtual war”, based on her experience playing the game in her childhood home in Kuwait. But while she and her sister retreated to the virtual war, the effects of a very real war were being felt right outside her door. The Gulf War had concluded just a year earlier, and the effects of the occupation still reverberated through the country.

Based on the conflict in the Gulf, Desert Strike saw you piloting a helicopter taking down various targets under the control of a caricature of Saddam Hussein. Operation Desert Shield began shortly after development of Desert Strike began, with its development concluding shortly after the end of Gulf War. Its proximity to real war brought it a morbid sense of reality. 

For Al-Qadiri, playing Desert Strike with her sister was a way to wrestle back control of a situation that a child couldn't comprehend. A way to apply rules and order to a daily life whose routine was dissolved. 

That distant, unreal atmosphere pervades her EP. The synth backed melodies sound far away, hard to focus on through the violence of the percussion. Kick drums reverberate as if through a deserted theater, while snares mix amongst sounds of gunshots, exchanged magazines and clattering bullet casings. Mournful choirs gently fill the space, speaking for the ghosts left behind. 

Desert Strike conjures images of sub-bassments, rumbling with the sonic debris, digitally crushed gunshots mixed with real ones. It's a march through sunlight that no longer seems to brighten the day. The sound of a ticking clock that no longer tells time, not because it's malfunctioned, but because time has lost meaning to all its observers. 

At some point during the album, I always find myself drifting off, the melodies fading to the background, tracks bleeding into each other. The percussion becomes indistinguishable from the gunfire. Was that a snare drum, or a gunshot? Each cracks through my mind the same way. 

---

In an interview with The New Inquiry, Al-Qadiri mentioned she can no longer play videogames. “Every time I attempt it, I am overcome with depression. Immediate depression. Whenever I try, my skin starts to crawl, I just put it down immediately.”

It made me think about my own relationship with games. I was born at the end of the Gulf War, in Saudi Arabia, and shortly after moved to Chicago, where I'd spend most of my life. I grew up watching the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq from a distance, and hearing about the Egyptian revolution through phone calls from my father's family. I grew up experiencing war through a screen. 

The Gulf War is said to be “the first war fought through television”, with channels like CNN making their money and reputation through its coverage. It only became more true for future conflicts, as I watched the media write and rewrite events in the Middle East, twisting them into propaganda. I watched videogames tell bigger lies in higher fidelity. I spent my teenage years pointing a digital gun at people who looked like me. 

I never played Desert Strike. But I did play one of its sequels, Jungle Strike. I have vivid memories of its first level, a siege on a Washington DC that's been overrun by terrorists. Another terrifying image that was fed into the imaginations of Americans in the coming decade.

Maybe that's why Al-Qadiri's second album, Brute, resonated so much stronger with me. It's of a piece with Desert Strike--urban chaos, gunshots and distant, rumbling synths--but made of snapshots of police violence and protests. Images familiar to me here in Chicago. The heart of the "enhanced interrogation" techniques exported worldwide. A city I've seen trap protestors by raising the bridges to cut them off, shutting down train lines and raising walls of armored cops to close ranks on them. I've seen the rhetoric that justified US wars return to assure us this is the only way to keep us safe.

That distance--the gap of a few years that kept me from experiencing the Gulf War firsthand, those miles that kept me out of a Middle East toyed with by US intervention--it feels a lot smaller these days.

I keep playing war. I keep picking up the gun. But sometimes the toy looks too much like the weapon, and I find myself hesitating. 

Desert Strike EP and Brute can be listened to and purchased on Bandcamp:

[shagunrana2244]

Experience Gateway to Luxury Living: Explore Flat for Sale in Mulund

Runwal Sanctuary

Nestled in the heart of Mumbai, Mulund has emerged as a coveted residential destination offering a perfect blend of urban convenience and serene greenery. For those seeking an unparalleled living experience, Mulund stands out as a prime choice. Amidst this bustling locale, where every corner exudes the charm of a vibrant lifestyle, lies an oasis of luxury crafted by the renowned real estate developer, Runwal.

Established in 1978, Runwal has been a trailblazer in Mumbai’s real estate landscape, with a legacy spanning over four decades. Their commitment to delivering excellence is evident in their portfolio of 51 delivered projects, each contributing to the city’s skyline while fulfilling the dreams of over 20 thousand happy families. Now, Runwal presents yet another masterpiece flat for sale in Mulund, reaffirming its status as the Masters of Mulund.

If you’re in search of a sanctuary amidst the urban jungle, look no further. These flat for sale in Mulund offer an unparalleled living experience, where luxury meets tranquility. Step into the realm of Green Living, where every corner is adorned with lush greenery, promising a retreat from the hustle and bustle of city life. Imagine waking up to the soothing views of verdant hills and being greeted by the chirping of birds — such is the essence of Green Living.

Designed to perfection, these spacious 2 BHK, 2.5 BHK & 3 BHK homes boast perfect cross ventilation, ensuring a constant flow of fresh air and natural light. Moreover, with over 350 trees adorning the landscape, residents can immerse themselves in nature’s embrace right at their doorstep. But luxury doesn’t end there. With over 40 lifestyle amenities including a Squash Court, Indoor Games Room, Mini Theatre, and Landscaped Terrace, every moment spent here is bound to be filled with joy and relaxation.

Location-wise, these flat for sale in Mulund offer unmatched connectivity and convenience. Situated just minutes away from the Eastern Express Highway, Thane, and Mulund & Nahur Railway Stations, commuting becomes a breeze. Whether it’s a quick trip to the office or a leisurely drive to explore the city, you’re always well-connected. Plus, with recreational hubs like Johnson & Johnson Garden and shopping destinations like R Mall and Dmart in close proximity, entertainment is never far away.

For families with children, education is a top priority. Thankfully, Mulund boasts reputed educational institutions such as JJ Academy, NES International School, and St. Mary’s Convent High School, all within a few minutes’ drive from these flats. This ensures that your children receive quality education without having to travel far from home.

In conclusion, if you’re looking to elevate your lifestyle and experience luxury like never before, these flat for sale in Mulund are your gateway to a world of opulence and serenity. With Runwal’s legacy of excellence and Mulund’s vibrant charm, your dream home awaits. Don’t miss out on this opportunity to make Green Living a reality. Embrace luxury, embrace nature, embrace Mulund.

This article is also submitted on Medium:- https://medium.com/@shagunrana2244/experience-gateway-to-luxury-living-explore-flat-for-sale-in-mulund-d4455e613f5d

For more Visit Us-https://sanctuary.runwal.com/

[themysticmaverick]

🌆 Alright, fam, let's dive deeper into a topic that's all too real in today's fast-paced society – the relentless pursuit of success, and the notion that getting comfortable is a big no-no. 🚀

In this urban jungle, it seems like we're all caught up in the hustle. The pressure to keep pushing, never slow down, and achieve bigger and better things is ever-present. 🏃‍♂️💨 And while ambition is a powerful driver, there's a fine line between ambition and a never-ending race with no finish line. 🏁

We're often bombarded with messages that say becoming "regular" or "plateauing" is akin to failure. 📉 But let's break it down. Isn't it a bit ridiculous to think that we can never find a comfortable place in our lives, a point where we can just catch our breath, enjoy the view, and savor the fruits of our labor? 🍉🌇

The truth is, being comfortable doesn't mean we're settling for mediocrity. It's about finding a balance between our ambitions and our sanity. It's about hitting a rhythm where we're not constantly on the edge of burnout. 💥

Success should be measured by our personal growth and fulfillment, not just by society's definition of it. 📏 It's about the journey, not just the destination. There's a lot to be said for finding joy in the little things, embracing the mundane, and taking time to reflect on how far we've come. 🌄

So, let's break free from the chains of hustle culture that keep us sprinting on a hamster wheel. 🐹 Let's champion the idea that comfort isn't the enemy of progress, but a necessary companion. Being comfortable doesn't mean we're lazy; it means we're smart. It means we're taking care of our mental and physical well-being. 🧘‍♂️💆‍♀️

In a society where we're always chasing the next big thing, let's not forget that life is happening in the now. 🕰️ It's okay to embrace the regular days when we're not breaking records or achieving monumental milestones. It's in those regular days that we find our humanity, our connections, and our sense of self. 🌟

So, let's keep grinding, but let's also remember the value of balance. 📚 Let's work hard and dream big, but let's also take a breather when we need it. It's okay to pause, reflect, and appreciate where we are in our journey. 🛑

We're all on different paths, and it's perfectly okay to find comfort in your own unique way. 🌈 Let's redefine success on our terms and prioritize our well-being. After all, the most valuable thing we have is time. ⏳

Stay true to yourselves, fam. Keep chasing your dreams, but never forget that it's okay to be comfortable along the way. 💯 #RealTalk #BalanceIsKey

[linuxgamenews]

The Lamplighters League: Action-Packed RPG on Linux and Steam Deck

The Lamplighters League strategy RPG game launches on Linux and Steam Deck Verified with Windows PC. Thanks to the genius team at Harebrained Schemes. Now available on both Steam and Humble Store with 84% Positive reviews I've got some exciting news to share about a fresh strategy RPG game from Paradox Interactive and Harebrained Schemes. These are the folks who previously wowed us with classics like the Shadowrun trilogy and BATTLETECH. They're back with The Lamplighters League, and I'm here to break it down the details of this launch. Since the game runs on Linux via Proton, it's even Verified for Steam Deck. The year is 1930, but not the 1930s you've read about in your history books. This is a world full of unexpected twists and turns, bearing the feel of those old-timey adventure stories. At the heart of it all is The Lamplighters League, a crew of individuals that society might look down upon, but whom you'll come to admire. They range from gun-slinging bank robbers to powerful individuals who can control minds. Your role? Assembling the dream team from these fascinating characters. You're against the Banished Court, a formidable group with a massive advantage in terms of manpower, weaponry, and resources. They're all about global domination, so you've have your work cut out for you.

The Lamplighters League — Release Trailer

The The Lamplighters League challenge doesn't end there, though. As you navigate the story, you'll find that the experience tailors itself to your decisions. If you're too good at what you do, the opposition gets tougher, bringing in more enemies or making them harder to beat. It's all about keeping you on your toes! What makes The Lamplighters League even deeper is the incredible audio backing. The music, put together by the talented Jon Everist, truly captures the essence of this alternate 1930s world. It's the kind of score that not only sets the mood but evolves based on your actions. Quite impressive. Now, onto the The Lamplighters League gameplay. As you plan and execute your strategies, you'll be making use of each member's unique abilities. Some might prefer a stealthy approach, sneaking past adversaries, while others go in guns blazing. Plus, with the landscape of each mission being unpredictable, it's crucial to scout and strategize. I can't stress enough the importance of exploration in The Lamplighters League. From bustling urban areas to wild jungles, there's a rich tapestry of settings to immerse yourself in. And with each map also offering a unique layout, you're always in for a fresh challenge. The Lamplighters League strategy RPG title is not just about battles; it's about stories, characters, and a world that begs to be explored. You'll soon find yourself invested in the fates of these unlikely heroes. So, gear up and embark on this thrilling journey. If you're interested in knowing more, there's plenty of additional info out there. Launching on Linux and Steam Deck via Windows PC. Priced at $49.99 USD / £41.99 / 49,99€ on Steam and Humble Store.

[badonkeykong]

@dandelicn (x)

      ⸻ THE BRANCH HAD left her reeling, just a little. It hadn’t hurt, but her pride was certainly injured. She was grateful that he’d stopped for a moment so that they could pick foliage out of her mane. The trouble with having so much fluff was always getting stuff stuck in it, or getting it caught in things.

“Y-Yeah– I’m okay. Ahah…sorry.” She waves a hand dismissively, embarrassed but unharmed. “I’m actually in the area lookin’ for cousins of mine, but no dice so far. I’m from a different kingdom. It’s a lot more URBAN than this one is. We do have jungles, but…not really this dense, anymore.” She decided, then, that tucking her ukulele in her bag might’ve been a better idea. Two hands to fend away vicious branches were always better than one.

“My name is Dandelion - but, uhm. You can call me Dandie. Donkey Kong is a cool name - it seems like there are a lot of gorillas ‘n monkeys around here!”

——————————————————————————-

“Ohhh, you’ve got family out here?” The Kong heir had seen a plethora of lions within the jungle in his time adventuring through it, there was no telling which ones she happened to be related to. “Does one happen to have a big ol’ scar on his face and a bad attitude? I’ve ran into that guy a few times and he’s kind of a jerk.” His anger might have been justified though considering DK would often have to trespass on his territory in order to get to his favorite oasis in the jungle, (which he admittedly visited often),

“Hey, thanks! You can say DK for short if that’s easier.” he offers. “Some people try to call me by my first name only and it gets confusing.” …Cause he’s an ape and not a donkey.

“Okay, Dandie, nice to meet ya!” DK smiles, turning and beginning to move again once the lion had gathered her bearings. He moves slower this time just to ensure that she can keep up without being throttled by the never ending brush, his attention on her as they continue on. “That’s a pretty neat name, guessin’ your parents were fans of dandelions? Those things’re amazing in salad.” That was getting him thinking about food again…

“We’re almost there!” He tells her as they come to a river stretching through the jungle. The only way across was either swimming against an incredibly strong current or swinging on a vine. The large tree looming over the river on their side dawned several thick vines and DK takes to tugging on them experimentally in order to see which ones were sturdy. Sure enough, he finds two that aren’t immediately suspicious and offers one to Dandie.

“Careful, there’s a waterfall at the end of that river. If you need help, feel free to ask!” He had learned his lesson the hard way.

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

So I had originally planned on doing a Danny Phantom retrospective, mostly because I’ve been watching a lot of video essays on YouTube about old media and internet personalities, and Danny Phantom was always one of those shows that I had a complex relationship with. But during my research, a simple question kept popping into my head over and over again. 

What does Butch Hartman actually do? 

He constantly keeps claiming that he created Danny Phantom, and a lot of people do consider Danny Phantom to be Hartman’s best show, but how involved was he? 

I’m not saying Hartman just slapped his name onto a product and took all the credit for himself, as he is credited for writing, storyboarding and directing various episodes. But from all the interviews and clips I’ve seen of him, he doesn’t seem to know that much about the show’s lore or why people like the show to begin with.

For example, the show clearly establishes that there are ghosts who used to be human at one point, but Hartman has always insisted that every ghost you see in the series is a supernatural creature from an alternate dimension. And that his explanation for why some ghosts are more human looking than others is because they wanna be human? Um…..okay. 

Feels odd that Hartman had a problem with the ghosts being spirits of deceased humans but he originally wanted Vlad to be a vampire. 

It’s also pretty interesting how Hartman never wrote any season two episodes, as that season is when the show started to heavily incorporate elements of serialized storytelling into its main narrative. Something that was previously absent from Hartman’s other show, The Fairly Oddparents. 

And yes, I am still annoyed that we never got a legit payoff to the Ring of Rage and Crown of Fire, they were clearly set up as these major plot points that were gonna be important later on, but were completely dropped entirely after Reign Storm. 

Guess now is the perfect time to talk about Steve Marmel and the controversy surrounding him. Long story short, Marmel was a writer who helped develop the series. A lot of the best episodes were written by him and once he left the quality went down the shitter. 

Many people have speculated that he was fired by Hartman/Nickelodeon for wanting the show to go into a more darker direction, while others claim he left due to creative differences. 

None of these rumors have been confirmed by Hartman, Nickelodeon or Marmel. And as such, should be taken with a huge grain of salt. 

Regardless of what you believe, you can’t deny that Marmel wasn’t influential during his time on the show. He really helped flesh out a lot of the characters and lore. 

Say what you will about the Green Bay Packers jokes in Bitter Reunions, but I kinda loved that aspect of Vlad’s character. It was a nice little touch that helped him stand out from your typical Saturday morning cartoon villain. 

And if I’m being perfectly honest, I don’t think Hartman could pull something like The Ultimate Enemy or Reign Storm off on his own, as he’s not that good of a writer. 

Which brings me to season three, now I don’t usually like parroting out the default opinion but, season three of Danny Phantom is just…..really bad. 

I’m not going to go into that much detail about season three, mostly because it’s a topic that’s been covered to death and I really don’t have anything new to bring to the table. But I will say that, if season three does anything well it’s that it showcases just how terrible of a writer Hartman actually is. 

Take for example the episode Urban Jungle, Sam’s eco friendliness is taken up to eleven, to the point where she starts feeling less like a character and more of a caricature. All she does in this episode is complain about how terrible humanity is, get captured and brainwashed by the villain of the week before getting rescued by Danny in the end. 

Oh, and Danny gets ice powers because…..reasons. 

I genuinely do feel bad for all the Danny Phantom fans who want to see a legit continuation or reboot, I came across a ton of amazing fan art and AU stories/webcomics that are a billion times more entertaining than the shit we got in season three. 

But alas, Nickelodeon has made it clear that they aren’t interested in a Danny Phantom revival/reboot, as they seem to only want comedy shows. Plus even if there was some sort of continuation, I doubt fans would support it if Hartman was heavily involved. Considering that he’s spent the last couple of years destroying any good will he had left with animation fans. 

Still, while the show may never get a proper continuation or revival, it will continue to live on in fan media form.

[buckysfaveplum]

it’s up that i fell

summary: the five years after the snap has changed a lot. with y/n on the run, her and Bucky have to make the best of the one moment they have together (based on As Long As Your Mine from Wicked)

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 1.5k

warning: swearing, i think that’s it? idk maybe it’s not a happy ending

a/n: i just wanna start by thanking you all soooo much for the love you showed my first oneshot. y'all are too much! i hope you love this one too, it’s a short one. if you guys ever have requests or things you wanna see, feel free to message me!

and YES! part 2 of forcefield is coming!

masterlist

You never thought you’d miss the stench sidewalk garbage. The deafening car horns. Especially the turbulence on the subway. You’d taken the city for granted for too long. It brought you so much. It brought you to him.

Life on the run wasn’t so bad. A new city almost every month, country after country. You were never in one place for long. Guess that’s what happens when you go against some of the world’s biggest governments. The GRC always rubbed you the wrong way. Those five years were the darkest of your life. Friends, family, everyone gone in seconds. They were long, lonely years, but you made it through. Maybe you could’ve done a better job of staying connected to the family that stayed with you. You practically had to smash your phone to get some peace from Steve’s constant ‘how are you?’s or ‘i know you miss him’s. 

Perhaps ambushing a GRC relocation unit wasn’t the best idea. That amongst other things. But you couldn’t just let them get away with displacing so many people. When the snap was reversed, everything got crazy. Good people shuffled around like cattle, left without homes, jobs; it was chaotic. Maybe that’s why you wanted to stay away from him, well other than the US government breathing down your throat.

A few burner phones had kept you in contact with Sam. You stayed away from the fight with Thanos, avenging far in your past. He’d caught you up to speed in your short chats through static flip phones. He kept pushing you to come back to the city. Come on, you know you miss it! I can get you pardoned. Don’t you wanna get back to normal? You knew what it was really about. Bucky.

You wished you could see him, God, more than anything. But how? With his pardon, therapy, new apartment (all information relayed to you by your birdy friend). How could you jeopardize that for him? You missed him, five years worth of missed him. That, however, wasn’t just enough of a reason to put him in danger.

Surprisingly enough, New York City wasn’t the worst place to hideout. With eight million people roaming around the urban jungle, it was easy to blend in. Besides, it was only for a few days, not too long anyway.

Slipping out of your air bnb, you headed down the street to the farmers market. It was nice to pretend like everything was normal for once. You and him, back in Bucharest, grabbing plums at 7 am. As stressful as they were, you longed for those days. Huddled under a blanket on your worn-out mattress, tearing through articles and books hoping to jog his memory. You went on the run for him once, you do it again. Even if it meant going alone.

The market wasn’t too busy. Guess that was one nice thing about Brooklyn. You weaved your way through the small cluster of teens gathered in front of the peach stand, making a beeline for the plums. A smile eased onto your face as you picked through the royal fruits. All the memories came flooding back. You wished you could see him, more than anything.

You tossed the plums in your bag as you made your way back to your block. You’d been out for too long, long enough to risk being noticed. Wasn’t hard as a former Avenger. Cutting through the crowd of people crossing the street, you quickened your pace. You couldn’t seem to shake the gnawing feeling of being watched. Glancing over your shoulder, you caught the ducking of a tall man, dressed in black. Shit.

There went your normal morning. You hadn’t had a close call since Venice four months ago. Lucky, you’d been able to hide under a canal tunnel for long enough to getaway. Where were you supposed to find a canal tunnel in Brooklyn? You made quick to cut a sharp turn down the coming avenue. You had to lose this man. You’d be fine. Just ditch the creep, grab your bag at the apartment, then dip. Simple. Nothing you hadn’t done a dozen times in the past year. It’d be fine. Just keep going. Don’t slow down. Don’t turn around. Don’t-

Before you could process your next move, a stiff arm gripped your waist, pulling you back into a nearby alley. You tried to catch your breath as the tall man forced you into the corner against the eroding brick. Your mind began to spiral. Where were all your survival instincts? You were an avenger for crying out loud, and you were caught off guard by some stranger? In all your years, you’d only known one man who was able to catch you off guard.

“Y/N?” 

You froze. It had been years. There was no way. That voice had only come to you in dreams, nightmares in the beginning. Lingering in the back of your head every time you fled a new country. You’d been so careful to stay away. You needed to, for his sake. So how could he be here now?

Shaking, you glanced up. Any doubt you had was gone. Inches away from your face was the man you loved. He was different; slimmer, his beard and long treks gone, a sense of unfamiliar calm radiating off of him. He was getting better, you could see it. How you wished you had been there by his side through it all.

“Bucky,” your hands flew straight to his face. Caressing and searching, as if any moment he’d disappear under your fingertips as he did five years ago. Slowly, his hands snaked around your waist, light and careful. It was strange and foreign. 

“Where have you been?” he asked, his voice betraying him as it shook and cracked. You could feel his heart breaking in your chest. The tears building in his eyes, the tremors racking his frame, the worried creases by his brows. You did this to him. 

“Hiding. I’ve been on the run, Buck.”

“Why didn’t you reach out when you heard? I’ve been looking for you,” his words broke you. Tears of your own began to flow and you slid a hand to the nape of his neck.

“I… I couldn’t put you at risk. I’ve made some poor choices since you’ve been gone. Sam told me how you’ve been doing. I’m so proud of you. I just couldn’t drag you into this with me.”

Desperately, his hands made their way up to your face. You frowned as you felt a soft leather where the familiar cool of vibranium unusually was. You took his hand and slowly worked the glove off. Through your tears, you forced out a smile. 

“Please don’t hide this, it’s you,” you said, peppering soft kisses into his palm. You knew he couldn’t feel them but if anything that made you more desperate to make him understand you. “Please don’t hide any part of you. I love all of you.”

Bucky’s tears turned to sobs at your words. Without a thought, he pulled you to his chest caging you in his arms. Perhaps if he held you close enough, loved you hard enough, you wouldn’t leave him. Your throat burned. How could you do this to him, leave him like this? It hurt him and there was no way around it. But it had to be done. You had to keep him safe.

“Stay with me, Y/N. Please don’t leave me.”

“Bucky…”

“Doll, please. You’re my everything. Please stay.” 

“I can’t stay, Buck.” Pulling back, you took a good look at his eyes. Through all the years, all his changes, they stayed the same. Kind, beautiful, and welcoming. Leaving him was going to be so much harder this time. 

“Hun, you’re gonna be okay,” you said, pressing your forehead to his. He began to stir, gripping at your waist fearfully, like if he let you go, you’d disappear. He struggled to find words, mumbling, and stuttering, searching for something to say to make you stay with him. Nothing turned up. Just more tears.

“Please, Y/N. I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too. That’s why I can’t put you in danger,” you said, giving him a kind smile as you played with his short locks. 

“Doll-”

 “Can’t we just enjoy this moment, Buck?” You pulled him close, the last effort to try to convince yourself to stay. You wished you were more selfish. You wished you could follow him out of the alley, back to his home, and lay with him forever. But you knew you had to leave. You had to keep him safe. Maybe one day you’d find your way back to each other. But for now, you had one moment, and even if it wasn’t enough, it was there.

[pransesdp]

2, 3, 11, and 12 for the latest meme?

2) What’s your favorite fic?

Ack, tbh I haven't really been too up-to-date on reading DP-related fics these days 😅... but I do remember this one fic about an AU-version of "The Ultimate Enemy" (where Sam ended up surviving) was an interesting story to read through from what I recall.

3) If you could canonically rewrite any episode, which would you chose?

Heh... weell there's actually a few that's always been on my mind for potential "rewrite" material (not counting "Phantom Planet" 'cause I mean, everyone does that lol). Here's the three that's been most on my mind atm:

-"Teacher of the Year" (S1) = Had a good premise going with Lancer getting more development + the videogame adventure aesthetics looking cool... but I really could've done without that random "Danny and Tuck act sexist to Sam outta nowhere" subplot :/. Like... weren't these three friends since like, 2nd grade? Why would they act so condescending about her playing games as they do (+especially knowing how Sam is, I doubt she would've let this slide if she's gonna keep hanging out with them)? It just felt so OOC & unnecessary to the story that I honestly think it'd be best to just scrap it (and instead replace it with like, a story of the trio just playing the games on equal terms without much conflict (except maybe getting more "casually" competitive or something for high score-purposes)? Idk-)

-"Urban Jungle" (S3) = While I do still enjoy this one alot based purely on entertainment-value (+all the cool aesthetics like Plant!Sam & Danny's new ice powers), a part of me does feel like it would've benefitted a lot more by being a full-on movie than a regular episode. More time to give the heroes some big stakes, character development, more intense fights (+Plant!Sam being more "active" of a threat), yknow all that jazz .3.

-"The Ultimate Enemy" (S2) = I know this is a fan-favorite by the fandom and all... buuuut yeah, I'm still not all that impressed by it tbh :p. Like, okay sure having that darker atmosphere and Danny's biggest "enemy" being the fear of growing up is a good idea in-theory... but, again how does it make sense for him to turn to Vlad when losing all his loved ones?? Like... you couldn't have just had Danny doing the "splitting-my-halves-apart" ritual himself out of his own personal guilt? Honestly I feel like that angle could've added more weight to the story + show how much Danny's ghostly side has become a core part of him than he realized (think of it like how Steven Universe became so drained/close to dying when his "Gem" side got taken out in the "Change Your Mind" special). Then I guess if you had to include Vlad, it'd be through this now-separated Phantom!Danny chasing him down for "revenge" and absorbing his powers, forming into the "Dark Danny" you see today. Or... idk, maybe thats just me lol.

11) Most underrated fic trope?

It pains me that I still have yet to see that many others exploring more of the family backgrounds for some of the characters outside of Danny... like, cmon especially with a case like the gloomy goth girl Sam growing up with preppy/controlling rich parents, it always made curious of how she must've coped with that growing up :c. Sam with those like Tucker as well since we only see his folks in snippets in the show, wonder what they must be up to?

12) Most overrated fic trope?

Idk if this is still a thing "regularly" by the current fandom but... could never really get the appeal of "dissection" fics tbh (let alone performed by his own parents ._.). Like, don't get me wrong I'm all for exploring a bit of "dark" themes here and there fanfic-wise but... really? Danny's folks? The same people who accepted their son wholeheartedly when he first revealed the truth in "Reality Trip"? Idk, just feels too OOC for me to see them doing such a thing to their own kid (ghost-researching jobs or not) .-.

[worldsover]

Judgement to the Desiccated ft. Karina

length ✦ 5573

genres ✧ sm type future; asphyxiation; blackmail; virtual_servant!Karina;

✦✧✦✧✦✧

Air did a poor job of not being polluted so Lee Soo Man flooded the world instead. The man himself certainly must be long gone and could not have been in charge of that decision but the legacy of his company far exceeds the legacy of any other human collective in history. Once on this planet, gas was the fluid of choice for respiration and breathing was an unconscious reflex. Now there’s Aether by SM. How very on-brand of them to have the liquid air you breathe follow perfume naming conventions.

Open your eyes and exit the sleeping chamber. Aether has you work for each inhalation, it desaturates the color of the bedroom—maybe there’s a subtle but uncomfortable tinge of yellow—and it makes your nose itch. Your muscles wield much less force than they used to because of the lack of resistance the fluid provides. Moreover, it smells like hairspray as though the ozone layer is taking sardonic revenge.

Screens impersonating windows track your eyes to ensure realistic parallax, playing the scene of divine blue heavens that could not exist. An azure sky is a reward for those planets that have an atmosphere and a sun for light to scatter. Your walls are either chrome or drywall white and your whole bedroom is plainly decorated just like the day you moved in.

“Etymology of bedroom,” you think out loud, though it falls on no ears.

“Bedroom is a compound noun consisting of bed and room. Bed goes back to Old English bedd ‘sleeping place, plot of ground prepared for plants,’ which goes back to the Germanic-”

Plants and sleep are both strong words to use nowadays. The former doesn’t exist in nature and it seems you’re the only one who bothers with the latter. Faint buzzing distracts you from the AI’s response and signals you to the nano drones that swim throughout the liquid to process carbon dioxide from your lungs. This whole ordeal could’ve been much worse if you didn’t have brain interfaces doing the hard part of controlling your diaphragm. The most you need is a purposeful thought. Still, it gets tiring having to think the same thought every three seconds. In. Out.

Was the metaphorical Soo Man teaching a lesson in perseverance? You love K-pop and imagine it’s how trainees used to practice dancing, singing, being charismatic. Being an idol had to be as natural as breathing air. Inhale and exhale. Right now with any antiquated programming language you clung on to, you could write a single for loop that did the same job. For every three seconds: breathe in, breathe out.

“What’s for breakfast today?” Not loud enough. “What’s for breakfast?” you think it louder.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready for service.” It’s quite a kindness for SM to blur the bland dystopia you live in by augmenting reality through your neural device. A bosomy woman in a gold-lined but otherwise modest maid outfit appears from the corner of your eye and she bows. Ae-Karina is bewitching and almost becoming of her basis as its graphics have gradually upgraded over the rotations but you wouldn’t misconstrue the avatar as human.

“I said, what’s for breakfast!” It feels impolite to scream in your head, there’s other residents there, but finally the fridge lights up.

“Of course master. May I remind you eating is unnecessary?”

In. Out. Every day, she does remind you, yes. How kind of the company to put all your nutritional requirements in the new air. Aether goes in then Aether goes out. You wish the thoughts of breathing could fade into the background but they’re just like your cravings for food. Always hungry but never starving, whole though not once satisfied. Your eyes pause at her gorgeous face and she tells you there’s bacon. Take it from your fridge. Bacon goes in. Well, the drones take care of the out.

Your assigned living space is the entire 207th floor of a tower. Two hundred and seven floors below the surface. The neighbor a few floors upstairs says that he thinks living deeper is a sign of status. What a luxury. That guy should check the status of his facial muscles, maybe improve his code that lets him tell lies while he’s at it. A couple hundred flights of stairs to swim up is a useless skeuomorphism of skyscrapers in the days of the sun. In fact they were more than useless, you would've preferred a single vertical hallway as it would have let you propel upwards unimpeded. Each floor is the exact same, a glass door that affords no privacy for its residence, a false tree on each side. At the upper levels, malls, convenience stores and other gaudy retail, but it’s the gyms that mock you that you mock in return. They’re always empty.

Finally reaching the top is no true break even if it is a change in scenery. Inhale. Aether tastes a little different up here. Exhale. Can’t say you like it.

Countless satellites form a parody of the star from which the planet flew away, the false image refracted by the upper boundary of Aether. They can’t take away your memories of this star. Looking up at the sky once blinded you with ultraviolet radiation, burning your cornea. It was beautiful. Now everyone’s decided that if they’re playing the part of corporate dystopia, they might as well fit the aesthetic. In a way, it’s self-fulfilling. They wouldn’t have chosen a neon pink sun to compliment the blue and metallic gloom of the cityscape if it weren’t so ingrained in popular media already.

Still, you would’ve expected Google or Walmart to become the megacorp responsible for the state of the world, not a Korean entertainment company. Must’ve been quite the red paperclip scenario. Instead of material design or utilitarian architecture, tacky artistic structures line the streets. The same advertisements for albums that they’ve been selling for the past however long. It's all so obvious, the city could've been designed from scratch to accommodate new forms of travel and goddamn liquid air but instead they went with futuristic Tokyo.

Dubstep permeates your inner ear implants. A notification informs your thoughts that it’s “Hip-hop EDM dance pop with a strong jungle house groove and urban influences.” It’s dubstep. Liquid carries barely any sound so SM affords the option for implants if you're nostalgic for one of the senses. Even though it’s a slower form of communication than direct neural transfer, the noise comforts you. Of course the company would choose dubstep as their background music, but maybe they make money off refunds somehow. It switches to Ice Cream Cake. Much better.

You walk the not so busy roads towards a short brick warehouse in the distance and heavy rain soaks your clothes. No such thing as weather without the sun and water but it’s all simulated anyway.

A warm Seulgi adlib and you know it’s Psycho that starts playing. No, none of your senses are real. The most you could trust is your vision but even that’s being lied to. You could be living in a vat and fed all these thoughts, but then why make it so mediocre? Not paradise, nor torture but a lukewarm in-between. Guess that's what happens when SM Entertainment manages the post-apocalypse. Good on them for trying. The alternative would be a frozen hellscape without solar radiation. Can’t deny their work with geothermal and nuclear energy to keep the Aether warm so that you didn’t have to live underground for the rest of human history. It’s quite great PR to save humanity.

“Hey now, we’ll be okay,” repeats a few more times than you remember.

The Idea Factory Alpha White Delta Green says the neon tubes lighting the front of the brick and mortar building. Your ID card bears a name but it’s not yours, not until they approve your name change. Those usually get processed faster with how often people liked changing their names.

Sit at a desk with a sterile white keyboard and slick new monitor. Type and empty words appear on the screen: “Think for the many, not for the one. We need to think ahead.” A thumbs up. The company appreciates the input. That’s probably enough work for one day. Some SNSD live stages help the time pass, SM certainly appreciated the streaming numbers and it would net you some social points.

It’s hard to say what comes to mind when they ask you to envision a world without the sun and air, especially since it’s what you’ve known for... Two hundred years? There’s no frame of reference, that much you can tell from when you counted seconds to see how often the satellites completed their orbit. SM really took time to have them propel at random speeds, they love withholding sensitive information like that from citizens. To be fair, time is sensitive. Guess the meaning of that phrase changes like all parts of language.

Look around. Dozens of employees at identical workspaces all try to answer the same questions. Naturally, there’s no need for manual labor anymore but there will never be a replacement for human ingenuity. Nice slogan but you know you’re only here for data. Can’t see a need for customer retention though—what’s the alternative, skip Earth? See you on another planet?

“Hey bro, you come up with anything new?” Dave says. Two desks away, you see the enthusiastic, surprisingly spry man play around with a Newton’s cradle. The balls at each end bounce back and forth, not slowing down their rhythm any time soon.

“I think I got something,” you say, “Earth is not the answer. It can’t be, long term.”

“Ooh, I like that. Actually, I really like that.”

“What are you gonna do, copy me?”

“Of course not. You know how much SM hates plagiarism.” Click. Clack.

“Ha. As if there’s a single original thought left in the world.” Click. Clack. The imaginary sounds of metal spheres bouncing play in your mind. They got the volume wrong, no way it’d sound that loud from that distance. “You’d think with all their resources, they’d have figured out space travel by now.”

“I don’t think they want to leave, bro. Wouldn’t be great for profits.”

Your mouth opens to laugh and causes laugh8942.mp3 to play in Dave’s head. “I love it. SM probably hates that sass too,” you say.

“Oh no, they’re gonna arrest me for thoughtcrimes. Nah, they love creativity, just when it suits them. Also, if they actually did bust you for wrongthink like rumors say, I wouldn’t have this on me.” Dave twirls a finger and points at you and you thank his absurd flair for the histrionic that keeps you amused with such drab work.

“NewDrug.mp6. Would you like to play it?” the dry system voice notifies you.

“Woah woah there tiger, hold on.” Dave must’ve noticed your intrigued eyes and holds his hands up. “You might wanna experience that at home. But if you’re interested in more, ask for chicken parm at the vegan place. You know the one.”

Dave leaves his desk. He doesn’t return. You finish your work. Inspire. Expire. You’d rather not.

In contrast to your commute to work, the roads fill with others on your way home. You have to know. Take solace in the comfort of a bench where a huge McDonald’s arch bathes the surroundings and its people with a yellow glow. Really shouldn’t watch it now, especially if Dave says it’s a home type of watch but you have to know. A family of five watches you pass out. They, along with every other passerby, ignore your still body draped over the chrome outdoor seating as you look like yet another junkie. The title is correct after a fashion, the simulation is some sort of new drug. The details of the exploits that happen in the immersive replay wash over you but you don’t need them to know that it’s the sort of lewd that SM would not allow—at least not publicly and not without the right exorbitant payment.

Suit pants and underwear go straight to the laundry. That must’ve been an embarrassing sight but no one bothered to stop you, so it doesn’t matter. Look up where this vegan place was that Dave so presumptuously assumed you knew about and you find that it’s about four Avengers’ stores down from work. He must’ve eaten there before.

“Yo Dave, just wanna make sure, what’s the name of the vegan place called?”

“What are you talking about, man? You telling me there’s some secret underground farms that SM wouldn’t know about?”

You can’t tell when you got to work, a lack of standardized timing would help as well the haze of living in a monotonous dark. “Nah, I mean, for the-”

“I have no idea,” Dave emphasizes each word, “what you’re talking about.”

“I see.”

Work flies by, unusually.

“Hey, can I get a chicken-”

“Uh, this is Maron’s Veggies Only, it clearly says on the sign.”

Clear your throat. “Parm.”

The shifty part-time worker looks around and rubs his fingers gesturing for money. “No digital.”

Over the counter, you pass him a gold coin stamped with a holographic 1 and he hands you a USB stick and a laptop in return. How old-fashioned.

“It’ll sync with whoever you have set as your avatar experience aspect,” the worker says.

“Thanks.”

Ever vigilant as the patrol is, the alleys are the last place you want to go to hide with the obvious criminal element within them all but you head to one anyway. Dump the anachronistic technology in your storage pocket dimensions. Looking at its contents, you’d have to clean that mess up later, but the more you look like an average slob the better. The biggest problem with the inventories is all the people squatting in them. Inspectors wouldn’t care about the archaic ruins you left in yours.

“Welcome, master. Ae-Karina is ready to service.”

“I’d like to go on a date. A special date.” You highlight the key word special and sit on your living room couch. No one’s going to look in your glass door and regardless, you wouldn’t be the pervert for glimpsing into someone’s home.

“Ah yes, master. Ae-Karina is ready to fully service,” she says with a provocative tint in her tone, her sclera disperses to black to match. A pole drops from the ceiling while parts of her maid outfit dissolve which reveals more of the silky skin of her thighs, her lissom arms and most importantly her overflowing breasts. Ae-Karina wraps her legs around the pole and spins around, teasing fingers trace curves on her body to harden you. Her dance is precise but sultry regardless. She pulls up her short skirt to flaunt more of her ass beneath white panties and then pulls down to flourish her cleavage, not trapped by a bra. “Are you enjoying your maid’s show?”

“Very much so, yes,” you say.

Half of a smile forms before a glitch occurs and she teleports next to you, fully nude. It doesn’t pull you out of the illusion however. You just stare and drink in the splendor of her created body.

“You’re not going to touch?” Ae-Karina says.

A feel of her tits and you find it softer than pillows you used to rest on. Soft isn’t much of a character that exists anymore when the whole world is engulfed in liquid. No one has beds, especially with the rarity of sleep. Therefore, her mounds are a consummate dedication to the texture as you squeeze and pinch at her cute nipples.

Her maid outfit rematerializes as she straddles you. It provides more friction to your pants as she begins her lap dance. The weight of her body dragging across your legs and clothed erection induces your carnal impulses further. If only you could fuck the virtual idol. You have to make do with the imprint of her pussy lips on your bulge sliding up and down. Breath in. Breath out.

Ae-Karina pulls down your boxers and spits on your erection. It's not real but her hands so slick on your cock and you let reality slip. Real is for the past, you have desires gratified in the present. There is no real person nibbling at your neck but your nerves activate in sexual desire without discernment for truth. No, she doesn't love you, but when the voracious mass of ones and zeroes says it loves its master, you say it back.

"I love you."

ILOVEYOU infected ten million computers in 2000. An explosion. Calibration engaging. It’s 1:21 PM, Sunday, July 18, 2286 and hypothetically the sun would be out in its full rage. At this latitude and longitude, you’re at what was once the epicenter of all—Seoul, where a fountain caused a chain reaction allowing the hopeful remnant of a world to exist. It lasted a surprisingly long time without the sun and without Aether but the dying planet would succumb inevitably to the ever-increasing contamination so SM of all corporations took charge. A different kind of chain reaction occurred when they acquired a restaurant chain that discovered the recipe for liquid air. The law is on its way and prepared to punish you to its full extent.

You reel while your ears ring. An even sexier version of the woman you already fantasized about appears from your peripheral vision in the crater of your floor. A skimpy cop outfit, striated with reflective material that seems to wane black at different angles, outlines Karina’s curves. She has a tool belt with absurd gadgets, such as a knife baton hybrid, a taser combined with a spray bottle and a Tamagotchi. None of this is necessary. They could just immediately arrest you, impose limitations on your devices. Sure, SM cloned people to deal with underpopulation, but why Karina would be the enforcer is a whole nother issue. Maybe the entertainment company loves their irony?

“Halt. You’re under arrest. Any resistance will be penalized according to the combined Terms of Service of all SM and SM associated products.”

Fucked anyway, you figure you might as well go for it. Escape into your inventory and only seconds later you’re forced out. You manage to get what you need regardless.

“Violation of access rights will be charged to your account.”

It’s so obvious but there’s a reason you kept so much gold in physical storage. As you swim away, the sides of your apartment start to bubble. Bubbles? Already, your limbs feel unsteady. Something’s wrong in the Aether.

“This is standard procedure for escaping suspects that are indoors. Again, this is all agreed to under the Terms of Service.”

“When the fuck did I ever click accept to that shit?”

“When you were born in this world and decided you want to stay in it,” Karina says out loud. You hear her say it. Your physical ears process the vibrations in the air that come from her mouth. Gravity thwarts your desperate escape as your limp body floats on the limit between liquid and air. The atrophy of your muscles becomes apparent within the gaseous atmosphere. She watches you sink down as the room drains of all the false air though her eyebrows crease when she inspects you closer. Your breaths are involuntary. Despite your muscles shorting out, the force of gravity and the pressure of the gas bearing down on you, you’re breathing and you don’t mean to. Her eyes wander farther down. On your pants, a concrete rod stamps the fabric.

“Oh, you like what you see?”

“Shut up, criminal. Anything you say can and will be used against you.”

“Your pussy,” you say and she scoffs.

“Original.” Karina bites her lip as your erection continues to grow behind its prison. You use all effort to put your hands up.

“Please, miss Karina. I’ve been bad.”

“I could punish you even more for sexual assault.”

“Then do it.”

Heat radiates the room in a way you haven’t felt in a while and droplets of sweat form on each of your bodies, especially on the thighs that her revealing outfit parades. Her facial features contort in deliberation and the wait kills you. You bat your eyes at her before Karina takes off her tight shorts and drops herself into your anticipatory face. This makes no sense but none of this life made any sense so you decide to go with the tides.

Centuries of training your respiration has led to this moment, but when you finally have real air to breathe, you spit at the opportunity and choose to suffocate. Then you spit at her pussy and lap it up. Karina’s nectar transfixes your olfactory glands, for once a smell that isn’t the sterile Aether. Your eyes are mesmerized in parallel because of the perfect design of her pussy, a single crease that leads into her hole that your tongue emphatically explores. Karina spreads her thighs wide to reveal a small nub that craves attention. So give it. Suck and swirl and flick your tongue, and the woman provides you the tight clench of her legs as a gift. And the sounds, rediscovered glorious noise. Loud, almost too loud, and clear is how they assault your ears, even surrounded by the flesh of her thighs. Muffled by the weight of her legs, you hear Karina moan in approval but she’s still clearly in charge with how she chokes you with her legs. This is not about your pleasure but hers, and any satisfaction that you derive is not only incidental but probably punishable by SM copyright law.

Karina squirms her hips subtly on your mouth. Her eyes are sharp and she’s just about to stop your hands from moving but she notices them clasp together.

“I’ll do anything to make you cum, please.” you say sloppily as her pussy juices fill your cheeks and drip down your chin.

“God. I can’t.” She takes deep, contemplative breaths. ”That’s more time added on for inappropriate behavior.” Her groaning and brief squeals make her words sound incogent.

You give her a concluding lick and a kiss on her slit. “So what have you been doing right now then?”

Point to a corner of the room and a subtle red light indicates a recording camera. At once, she pulls out a hose from a pocket that could not fit it and the vacuum submerges the room with noise. Her expression shifts quickly to serious.

“We don’t play games here in SMTOWN unless it’s SuperStar so don’t fuck with me.”

“Look who's trying to be a comedian. How about you fuck with me any further and the video gets released.”

“That’s funny, you think you have any sort of power-”

“Yoo Jimin, I suggest you don’t push me more.”

“Where do you know that name from? Right now.” She weighs herself down on your neck.

“You think I don’t have contingencies for if I die too? Karina, we can make this a  win-win scenario. We both get to cum, we both get to walk away unscathed.”

“Fuck you.”

Your weak arms wander between her thighs. At any moment, a feeble punch towards your face or another ten seconds of asphyxiation and she could call your bluff. Even if you did have the ability to expose her perversions in any way, there would be no permanent recourse, not as long SM was in charge. So it surprises you when Karina takes off her shorts. 

“Goddammit. Your cock just looks too good. And your mouth, how are you so good with it?” Put up five fingers when she motions to remove her top as well, and instead she opts to take off your clothes, seizing your pants and throwing them to join the rubble in the room.

A finger slips in, then two and a third dares. Her flawlessly architected pussy lips clings to your digits and Karina shudders in reply. You explore her wetness and find it’s smooth to the point of having no faults, but her juice inside is gloppy and causes your fingers to stick more than the liquids she spills from her slit.

“Who said you’re allowed to have more?”

You lap up the nectar on your fingers. “Then why’d they make you taste so good?”

Your thumb teases her sweet tight asshole and puts just the slightest amount of pressure on it while you finger her with more intensity. The mass of her butt burdens your torso the closer she gets to orgasm. Her eyelids squeeze close and you see her body ripple in anxious pleasure. Karina shows off her pearly whites, teetering on the cliff of hysteria.

“Yes, yes! I’m so close,” she screams.

"Not yet."

“Fuck." Karina sobs, "God. Damn, fuck I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Just fuck me.”

“My pleasure,” you say. There’s no need for you to grab her since she brings herself down to your groin, which you’re thankful for as your arms are as good as jelly now. Fortunately, your cock throbs as hard as ever while Karina’s slit rests on it.

“Say you’ll delete it all, all the evidence, promise me.”

“You’re gonna fuck me first or what?” Your breath hitches while she makes a strangled noise as her velvety walls swallow your cock whole to leave no room for comfort. Her tightness is stifling and you have to start counting just to breathe again.

“One two-”

“Be quiet.”

But there is no quiet when pleas for your cooperation intersperse her excessive profanities when she seats herself into your cock and ricochets up and down. Sweat emanates from her creamy skin while her legs widen to find a better angle for her supporting knees in her cowgirl position. Grapefruit and other citrus mingle with the scent of the sweat, fruits you haven’t seen except on billboards in music videos. As much as your mind crackles and your blood roars for every atmosphere of pressure Karina’s walls provide on each thrust in and out, you can’t help but reminisce on sweeter, more innocent times.

The white fluorescent lights in your apartment sputter. For all the advancements in technology, some among many things never change. Light refracts differently in air, less bright, but you can see the pure enjoyment on Karina’s face no matter the luminescence. Karina slows her ride to pull her hips down harder instead and she jolts when your cock finds the most tender spots inside her pussy and it interrupts her babbling.

Karina almost hyperventilates when she gets up to spit on your cock. She pulls out some kind of meter from her tool belt and sighs when there’s no beeping and you recognize it having to do with carbon dioxide. She gets back to dribbling saliva and the filament trailing down to your shaft mesmerizes you. This spit is real, not simulated, and it wettens your erection in a mix with her pussy juices to paralyze you further in your already listless state. Her bare thighs jiggle and you can’t exert much force with your hands but her buttcheeks are firm with just a bit of give.

“Thank you for this cock, thank you for being bad,” Karina says as you watch her ass sink deeper while her pussy holds your dick taut. She’s frenetic when bounces up and down to play an unadulterated orchestra of slick noises between your groins.

“You’re welcome,” you accomplish getting out the words between planned breaths. Your hands cup her buttcheeks but you fear they may break with how she strikes her ass into you.

Karina turns around once more to give you the spectacle of her facial expressions as she fucks herself into you. Knead her calves laying on your torso and they take no energy to spread them though she brings them back together, compressing your hard shaft within her pussy. A new game you play with her, a separate rhythm of loosening and tightening. Her feet press on your chest to help her bounce, but the way they bear down on your lungs against the timing of your breathing causes you to fumble. Your cock bends straight forward as she plunges herself into you and it sends prickles to your entire skin, making the new angle difficult but worth it. Karina takes your hand and starts sucking on your fingers.

“You want my promise that bad?” you say.

“Yes, as bad as I want your cum. I swear, I need it.”

She draws her knees up to her torso and hugs her legs to keep thighs as tight together as possible. Karina couldn’t keep her word, she was trying to kill your cock with constriction.

“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking tight. God, Karina, fuck. You’re so good.” Even if good isn’t the word you want to use to describe her.

“Do it, please, please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, baby. Karina can be a good girl, a good maid, a good cop, whatever you want. Just don’t get me in trouble, please.”

Karina’s mouth stops saying words though her lips writhe, drunk in increasing lust. Her cheeks flush, before the rest of her skin joins in redness while she grapples your chest and whatever spare limb she can find. You still struggle wresting control of your body but nature seems to take over when you drive yourself into her and match her needy cadence. The air in the room is replaced by a new air but it isn’t Aether. Passion, sweat, heat and all fluids that you both exude join squelching sounds, slaps and moans in harmonic bliss when her body tenses and she screams. As her body tightens, her pussy especially holds your cock for dear life and endeavours to wring out all your semen as her wetness throbs and spills. Karina starts counting to three repeatedly and you laugh though your amusement quickly subsides when you feel her juices become more viscous and she continues her ride, even in the dying pulses of her climax.

“Was I good?” Karina asks.

Just a moment goes by before you mentally send her a screenshot of all the recordings being deleted. Karina hasn’t stopped fucking you yet so at least it wasn’t a ploy.

“Thank you, thank you, I love you.” The flexion of her pliant legs brings them all the way back to rest on top of your legs. Karina lays prone above you and finally give you a kiss. The citrusy flavor may be closer to lime than grapefruit but it’s been so long that you can’t remember which scent is which. Lips crash and her tongue lashes out at yours trying to establish dominance. Keep still to let her investigate your mouth while her pussy does the same to your shaft.

You savor the way Karina’s top emphasizes the bouncing of her tits synchronous with the rebounding of her waist on your cock, but your mouth waters when she frees them. Take the shortest moment to relish in the sight before Karina smothers you with her plump globes. You wriggle your face to try to breathe. Inhale, up and exhale, down, but all you inhale is the scent of her orbs’ sweat. Her hips undulate with a pace at least double yours breathing and the echoes of slapping flesh resonate throughout the air-filled chamber. The loudness is unlike any you’ve experienced in a long time. It’s almost a flashbang every time her ass slams into your lap, especially as you start to see white when orgasm threatens to overload you with preludial pulses.

The last words you hear infected ten million computers in 2000. Fade to black. Cut. You’re slammed out of existence back into existence as a sun rebirths both within you, heating your core to a dangerous high, and from your eyes, dazzling you in an unforgiving white light. In the throes of unconsciousness relapsing to consciousness back to tenebrosity, your streaks of semen suspend in the Aether like a dead tree resting from the wind. What flashes your mind in its orgasmic state are two things only you would remember, plants and weather. Your hyperventilation is unconscious but not unwelcome, as it’s the first time in a while your breaths were reflexive even in the liquid air. However, basking in your newfound power, you start to choke. Right. You breathe in and out again. In and out. In. Out. In. Out. Back in.

“Replaying KarinaArrestsYou.mp6.” A hint of vexatious glee in the system’s otherwise dry voice. You don’t stop for it.

✦✧✦✧✦✧ 

AFF, AO3

It’s pretty silly but the idea danced around in my head ever since I saw the absolute Black Mirror concept that SM had for aespa and I concur that Karina is insanely hot.

As I’m writing this, this Kurzgesagt video on the idea of a rogue Earth comes out and now I have to rewrite stuff to make it at least a little consistent. I’m obviously already going nuts with all these ridiculous sci-fi concepts but this video almost feels too targeted to me writing this for me to ignore it.

[bump1nthen1ght]

Pack Tactics (Werewolf x Reader)

Pairing: Fem!Reader/Male!Werewolf

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Established Couple, Angst with a happy ending

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2896 words

Summary: You are in a wonderful relationship with your sweet partner, Gray. But this far into the relationship, you’ve yet to tell him you have no intentions ever of having kids. You can’t help but wonder, how will your child-loving werewolf boyfriend will react?

Request: I live for very specific comfort! No pressure if this doesn’t inspire you or if you just don’t want to write it obvi.... but could I have a f!reader x m!werewolf where the reader is 100% sure she doesn’t want to have kids ever never ever in any capacity and is worried about how her werewolf bf is going to react, worried she’ll be dumped or something (ya know cause idk I feel like werewolves are built with a breeding kink and like into the whole having a lot of pups) there can be smut if you want!! I love me some dramatic angst comfort :)))))))

A/N: Sorry this took so long y’all, school and stuff has been kicking my ass. But writing this sweet little fic has been a nice reprieve from my work. Hope you enjoy!

“Alright, I’ll get the chicken, the asparagus, and the pasta. You’ve got the wine and the dessert?”

“Sure thing.”

The two of you nod, Gray stepping away from the grocery cart before you call out to him.

“And not one of those huge tubs of ice cream.”

Gray emits a dramatic whine, pouting.

“But the big one is 25 cents cheaper than those little pints. It’s practically free!”

You furrow your brow and pat him on the shoulder.

“Not if we don’t finish them, they aren’t. Now go.” Gray rolls his eyes, clutching his heart and throwing his head back. You playfully push him, walking away with the grocery cart and towards the deli section. You can see the top of Gray’s wild brown hair as he moves into the next aisle, his 6’5” form towering over all the little old ladies who usually crowd the store.

You’re browsing the chicken, trying to decide between 2 breasts or a full rotisserie, when a familiar sound reaches you.

“Oh! If it isn’t ____.” You forcibly paint a smile, fingers automatically clenched around the stellafoam package as you turn to see your next door neighbor Mrs. Star. Her teased, bleached blonde hair teeters on top of her head, bobbing back and forth with the clack of her neon blue heels. While you can respect the 60-year old for digging her feet in and refusing to update her wardrobe from the 80’s, her pension for gossip is a little less admirable. “Shocked to see you out and about, what with that big ol boyfriend of yours.” She says, blue eyeshadow crinkling into a wink and nudging you with your elbow. You wheeze a bit, quickly covering it with a laugh. “Back in our honeymoon phase, Richard and I barely left the bedroom. And he was half-way balding back then, not the babe-a-rama you got going over there.” Mrs. Star’s laugh reaches a pitch almost too high for your human ears to pick up, maybe even giving Gray 2 aisles over a headache.

“Well, y’know, gotta keep our energy up.” You wince, immediately berating yourself for that comment. Mrs. Star throws her hand up in a “oh, you” gesture, letting out another half-whistle half-screeching chuckle.

“Oh I do, honey, I do.” She sends you another dramatic wink, which you return with a shaky smile. The corner of your cart bumps into hers as you begin walking along the meat aisle, trying to forcibly end this interaction. But Mrs. Star pulls off an impressive turn with her cart and strolls alongside you. She does little to hide her wandering eyes, trying to piece together any juicy info from your groceries. “So, are you two trying for kids yet?”

The wheels squeal to a sudden stop, forcing you to choke on your saliva as the shopping cart’s handle digs into your stomach. You keep your gaze locked on the frozen steaks  and turkeys, already way past the chicken you meant to grab.

“Uhhh, no. We’re not really in the phase of our relationship yet.”

Mrs. Star clicks her tongue, pressing her hand to her chest in a show of embarrassment. “I’m sorry, dearie. Old habits you see, whenever a new couple moves in together I assume they’re halfway to the wedding already. You young kids like to take it slow, huh?”

You nod, hastily grabbing a package of buffalo wings, hoping for an excuse to escape this conversation.

Mrs. Star continues to walk by you, her cart blocking off any convenient means to leave unless you significantly pick up her speed. Her eyes glance over the sweats sat in a display in the center of the aisle, humming a small tune.

The end of the aisle is approaching, you’re almost home free! You ready your feet to book it with an excuse, but Mrs. Star clears her throat and begins to speak.

“Now dearie, I don’t mean to pry-”

What do you call these last 3 minutes, Star?

“But I’d at least pop on a ring on that finger soon. Someday someone’s going to snatch that boy up like a piece of meat, saying all the right things. Men got all those suspicions about over-the-hill pregnancies, his eyes might start wandering. That’s how my first divorce went, so I should know.”

You pull your cart to a stop, breathe catching as you look at Mrs. Star, shocked. You can handle some inappropriate questions, but to question your boyfriend’s loyalty and insulting your relationship is crossing another line. Your brows furrow with a simmering anger, your cheeks heating up as you're ready to let loose.

“Well, Mrs. Star, if you must know I have the most wonderful boyfriend on this side of the planet, and unlike your deadbeat first husband, he’s as loyal as they can be.” Mrs. Star looks at you, eyes widened and right hand halfway to grab a pack of oreos. You huff, pushing your cart away from hers and towards the cash register. Right before you leave her sight, you turn back to her with a simpering smirk. “Have a great day, Mrs. Star!”

Your heart is heaving with anger, prepping a rant to Gray about the horrible interaction you just had. On the other side of the store, you spot Gray, his curly hair all tussled, holding a large Rosé and a package of ice cream sandwiches. Just the sight of his back calms you a bit, excited for some delicious food and late-night cuddles. You jog a little towards him, but slow down when you see him crouch down, looking at something hidden from your sight.

You turn your shopping cart slightly, trying to peer behind his massive form, and freeze.

Gray’s sticking out his tongue, pushing up his nose, and making many more silly gestures to a baby in a stroller. The baby laughs, it’s chubby cheeks bright red as Gray blows another raspberry, thrashing its arms up and down with joy. The dad is laughing at Gray’s antics, leaning down and patting his kid on the head.

Gray promptly stands up, sending another big smile to the kid, before waving goodbye. The six-month-old waves back, uncoordinated and decidedly adorable. Gray laughs, turning away and walking towards you.

Your feet feel cemented to the floor, heart down in your stomach.

He’s a natural, you think, nausea building up in your throat.

Gray was the oldest of eight, not a large number for a werewolf family. You adored them, and they you, but Gray had a way of dealing with his youngest siblings. Whether it was letting them climb all over him like a jungle gym, or attending imaginary tea parties, Gray was a pro. He was the guy to cram himself into a tiny chair at the kids table, eating tiny cookies and cracking jokes. ‘Dad’ seemed to be stamped into his very being, the cuddly werewolf with a love of children. He’s any mother-in-law’s dream.

But all those sweet things turn sour when you think about what Mrs. Star said. Gray, moving on without you.

Gray’s eyes light up when he sees your cart, jogging over and holding up the bottle of wine like a prize.

“Hey!” He says, quickly sliding an arm around your waist and giving you a peck on the cheek. “I got your favorite, and those delicious mint-chocolate sandwiches.”

His happy voice and comforting touch help abate whatever it is your feeling, but the way Gray’s brow furrows tells you your  discomfort is present in your eyes. “Is everything okay?” His large hand comes up and rubs your shoulder. You give him a shaky smile, fighting away negative thoughts with a bat.

“Yeah, let’s go home.”

---------

Wet fur presses up against your bare neck as you lazily stir the boiling water, Gray’s shifted muzzle now snug in the crook of your shoulder, the white flecks across his dark fur peeking into your periphery. Your free hand instinctively goes back to scratch between his ears, causing him to let out a satisfied huff, hot air blowing across your chest.

“That smells good baby.”

“It’s just salt and water Gray. The pasta’s barely al dente.”

Gray laughs, turning his head  slightly so he can press a small kiss onto your cheek.

“You could make even that taste delicious, ____”

You dramatically roll your eyes, pushing away his chin as he continues to peck and nip at your neck. After showering Gray always made sure to rub in some cherry-blossom leave-in conditioner into his fur. The artificial perfumes just lightly touch your senses, but the mental connection they have to Gray make them smell that much sweeter. You turn and give him a quick kiss on the lips, patting his shoulder once more.

“Do you mind setting the table? Maybe get started on those messy dishes?”

“No problem.” Gray mumbles, reluctantly pulling away from you and tugging up the towel that hangs loose on his hips. He barely needs to reach for your fancy plates on the top shelf, his chest muscles flexing and bicep taut. Even with his thick fur, you can see the bone of his clavicle which accentuates his long neck.

God, he’s so hot.

You think, smirking a bit as you continue stirring.

And all mine.

You hum, but the cheery mood you’re in quickly sours once you remember your conversation with Mrs. Star. That small seed of doubt seems to grow and leech from your chest.

2 years into this relationship and the two of you have only danced around the conversation of the future. You of course had agreed on living together, what your career paths looked like, even the potential of getting married in a couple years, but never kids. As two 20-somethings, you felt like you had all the time in the world.

But the thing was, you didn’t really need all the time in the world.

You didn't want kids. Even with your family or your neighbors needing that your opinion “might change some day,” you were confident in that decision. Not that you hated them, you just could never picture yourself being a mom. A fun aunt, maybe, but never a mom. It wasn’t even a point of contention in your own mind; The picture of you, your partner, and maybe a couple of pets thriving into your elders was bliss enough.

You sneak a glance to Gray, now clothed and back turned to you as he sets the table. He’s diligently folding the napkins into  fun shapes, a ritual he does every date night. From the hole in his jeans you can see his tail wagging, content as he hums to the low radio playing on the window sill.

A smile crawls onto your face, a small giggle escaping you as you watch Gray’s hips bob to the beat, silently mouthing the words. You snort as he does a dramatic little shoulder shift, Gray’s head whipping back towards the kitchen as you throw your hand over your mouth.

“What, don't you like my moves?” Gray says, shimmering his shoulders again, a large grin across his face.

“They could use some work, Kevin Bacon.” Gray clutches his chest, throwing his head back in mock pain.

“You wound me. After all these years, you would cut me so deep?”

“Sure would.” You turn back towards the simmering pasta, setting the wooden spoon on the rim and brushing your hands on your jeans. “Oof!” You squeak as you yanked away, Gray wrapping his arms around your waist, twirling you in a stumbling circle.

“And how ‘bout now, m’lady?” Gray simpers, eyebrow cocked. Your hands slap his chest as you laugh. He lets your feet back down on the floor, but keeps his arms locked around your waist. The two of you slow dance to the beat, and when the chorus hits, Gray gives his worst rendition possible. You bemoan and feign plugging your ears, but find yourself singing along anyway.

Everything about Gray is warm and bright, from his goofy grin to his excitable tail to his two left feet. He adds that pep of energy to your daily routine, pulling you out of an exhausting cycle for a quick jog to the beach or an episode of your favorite drama. Gray fills out all of those little spaces, makes them a little less gray.

Your head rests against his chest, feeling the fur through the fabric of his t-shirt as the two of you sway back and forth.

You want it to stay this way.

But that pestering weed squeezes your heart again, forcing images of Gray with a kid on his shoulders. Showing up to little-league football games with a big cooler and a “#1 dad” T-shirt. All those little moments, all without you.

You can’t fight the deep sigh, pressing your face even deeper into Gray.

Just let me have this. Just this moment, just for now.

-------

“Ugh, I think my stomach is going to explode from excess-pasta.”

Gray huffs, laying his head on your lap as the two of you slump onto the couch. His tail wags lazily, flickering back and forth as his legs swing over the coach's side, his long torso bunched up as he curls into you. The fur of his head is soft as you twist your fingers into it. “But I gotta say, what a way to go out.”

You giggle, losing your thoughts in his soft fur. Gray lets out another deep breath, nuzzling his face into your hand. You brush over his cheek with your  thumb, admiring the cheekbone you feel just underneath.

But that burning question refuses to leave your mind, and you ask it without even thinking.

“Do you want kids, Gray?”

Gray’s eye’s stay closes, his posture relaxed as he sinks into your massaging fingers.

“Hmmm, maybe. Never really thought too much about it. Why?”

Your throat dries up, mind reeling. It wasn’t even a definitive yes, but your heart is still reeling. Your fingers pause and Gray's eyes open. He shifts his head when he sees the look on your face, concerned. “Babe?”

You nod, eyes still wide, trying to fight off the inklings of a panic attack. Gray pushes himself up on his elbows, paw quickly coming to caress your cheek. “Baby, is everything alright?”

You find the energy to breathe, and suck in deeply. Your heart begins to slow down as you look into Gray’s yellow wolf eyes. You dig your cheek into his large palm, smelling the perfume of his conditioner.

“Yes, sorry, I just-” You pause, taking another deep breath. “I ran into Mrs. Star in the grocery store, and-I’m sorry I’m overthinking things.” You mutter, patting yourself  on the cheek as to snap yourself out of your mood. Grays other hand rubs the back of your neck.

“It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Did she say something?”

“No-Well, yes. It’s silly, typical Star things. She just brought up how ‘ought to get started having kids, and it just-” You let out a shaky sigh, pulling away Gray’s hand with your own and looking him straight in the eye. “I don’t want to have kids, ever.”

In Gray’s eyes, you expect to….something. Confusion, disappointment, maybe? But instead, all you see is relief. Gray rests his paw on your thigh, squeezing it.

“_____, is that what you’ve been worrying about?” You nod, throwing your eyes back down, but Gray tilts your chin towards him. “If you don’t want kids, we won’t have kids. Simple as that.”

Your eyes widen and you pull your face back.

“Seriously? But-what if-”

“____, I grew up with eight siblings. I’m going to have to deal with more nieces and nephews then I can count on my fingers and my toes, I think I can handle not having kids.”

A weight lifts off of your chest and you slump forward into Gray, pressing your forehead against his clavicles as you let out a long, relieved sigh. He laughs, patting your back and kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry you had to deal with this all day, I didn’t even realize you were so upset.”

You slap his chest, letting out another frustrated sigh. With him? No, but yourself, and Mrs. Star, for stirring up nightmares for no damn good reason.

“It’s not your fault, it’s mine for being so paranoid.” You press your chin up, pouty lips admiring your boyfriend's face. “I’m sorry for freaking out. She really got me into my own head.”

“No apologies needed baby.” Gray says, giving you a small peck. You send him a cheesy smile, chasing after his lips with a couple of small kisses. A low rumble growls out from his chest as you nip at his jawline. Behind him, you hear his tail begin to hump on the floor.

“Hmm, does that mean you feel better?” You nod, pressing another kiss into his pulse point.

“Yes, thank you for letting me get that out.” Another kiss, now on his Adam’s apple.

“Welp,” Gray says, quickly adjusting himself. In another second, you yelp as he picks you up by your butt, legs quickly wrapping around his waist, “Let’s give Mrs. Star something to talk about, hmm?”

You throw your head back with a laugh, clinging tight to his chest as Gray blows a raspberry into your neck. “That good with you, my lady?”

You nod, giving him another kiss on the lips as he carries you off into the bedroom.

Yeah, you have it good.