#dragon's head nebula

[astronomypolls]

[ldragoat]

ANIMATIC

who broke it - mfb edition (ft. the dark nebula gang)

audio from parks and recreation

[nebulaahh]

the true horror of academia is that I’m expected to focus on reading ethnographic research methodologies while “I like playing hard to get.” “And now?” “I’m gotten.” is looping through my brain like a toy car on a hot wheels track.

[quiltofstars]

The Seagull Nebula (NGC 2032, below center), the Dragon Head’s Nebula (NGC 2035, left center), and NGC 2040 (top right) // Eduardo Rigoldi Fernandes

[justaballoffluff]

my brain has been almost entirely consumed by knitting and crochet the past few weeks and I don't really know what to do about it. plus I've been working on my term paper for Ancient Egypt, which has taken up a lot of my brain space as of late

went to the Museum of Natural History today and I got a mammoth plush!

her name's Lana since it means "down, soft fleece, wool". plus it follows Tullia the Leopard Shark that I got last year for my birthday

[cuubism]

The thing is.

Hob understands that Dream cannot be hurt easily. He is an ancient, powerful, nonhuman being. Hob has, in fact, heard a story from Matthew about when some foolish human wannabe-magician had attempted to stab him when Dream had gone to retrieve a spell book that had slipped from the Dreaming library. According to Matthew, the knife had simply gone through his chest like he was made of smoke and left no mark at all.

(Hob still wishes he had been there. He’d have snapped the guy’s arm. Or worse.)

Barring luck and a magical binding, like what happened with Roderick Burgess, Dream can’t be hurt by mortal means. Hob understands this. Hell, he can hardly be hurt by supernatural means either. Only a few very powerful beings would be able to manage it, or else the very laws that govern his existence, coming down upon his head.

The thing also is.

Dream bruises so easily.

Sometimes.

Like now, when Dream is actually limping across the floor of the Inn. Long coat, which usually does not come with him to the waking world, wrapped tight around him. A dark bruise blooms along his cheekbone. Hob doesn’t understand how it’s possible. It shouldn’t be, not when Dream can take a knife to the heart like it’s a gust of wind, but the fact of the matter is that it is possible, apparently. And so Hob’s got to do something about it.

He meets Dream halfway across the room, braces him by the arms. “Jesus, Dream. Are you hurt?” Well, evidently he is. “How badly?”

“I told him he should stay home and rest,” grumbles Matthew from where he’s hopping along the floor at Dream’s side. Hob hadn’t even seen him there, he’d been so focused on Dream. The fact that Matthew’s not even riding on Dream’s shoulder is not a good sign.

“I did not want to miss our meeting,” Dream says. Which is a hell of a thing.

“Come upstairs, then,” Hob says, and doesn’t quite realize he’s grabbed Dream’s arm and is right pulling him along until he’s already done it. But Dream just follows him. Matthew follows, too, which, again, is not making Hob feel confident about Dream not being too badly injured.

“What happened?” Hob asks, as he sits Dream down on the couch, perching carefully at his side.

“A minor altercation,” says Dream.

“He was thrown into a wall,” says Matthew. “The wall cracked, by the way.”

Hob winces in sympathy. “Thrown by who? Or… what?”

Dream says, “It’s of no consequence.”

Matthew says, “I don’t know, but it had a lot of limbs.”

Hob’s kind of glad Matthew’s here as bullshit translator right now.

“How badly were you hurt?” he asks again. Not badly enough to keep him from traveling, evidently, but badly enough that he is limping. As a measly little human, Hob might find himself limping for a while just by twisting his ankle going down the stairs— but he does not like that intersection of facts when it’s someone like Dream.

“I am fine,” says Dream, and then winces as he shifts his weight on the couch.

“Bullshit,” say Hob and Matthew simultaneously, after which Matthew adds, “Uh, I mean, bullshit, your lordship.”

Dream slants a reproving glance over at him, then back to Hob. “Can I see?” Hob asks, more gently. “I’d like to help. If I can.”

Gingerly, Dream shrugs his long robe off his shoulders. Underneath, he’s wearing his usual black t-shirt, and at Hob’s urging he pulls that off over his head, too, though evidently with some pain. His chest and stomach seem uninjured, the unnaturally pale and smooth skin is still just that, unnaturally pale and smooth— so Hob tugs on his shoulder. “Can I see your back?”

Dream turns, and Hob tries not to think too hard about Dream doing his bidding like that—it’s tender and troubling and arousing all at once, and he’s definitely not going to think about that last bit—and sucks in a breath.

His back is a map of bruises, nebulae arcing over his shoulders and the nape of his neck, curling down over his spine like a coiled dragon. Dream bruises prettily, even like this, periwinkle and dusk blue, the purple of sunset clouds. Another reminder of how Night, too, lives within him.

“I told you,” Matthew says, hopping up onto the back of the couch by Hob’s shoulder.

Dream makes a grumbling sound, but doesn’t deny him this time.

Hob traces a light hand along his shoulder blade and the deep, spilled-watercolor of the bruise there. Thrown into a wall, Matthew had said. Ouch.

Dream shivers at the touch, and Hob says, tentative, “Do you usually bruise like that, love?”

He’s seen it before, though not this bad. Lines of strain on Dream’s hands. A red, banded mark on his arm on one of the few occasions he’d taken his coat off in Hob’s presence. He wants to hear it from Dream, though.

Dream says, tentative now, hunched on the couch like a wounded physical thing rather than what he is, “I… suppose.”

Sitting only in his tight jeans and boots, hair a mess, the mark on his cheek makes him look hunted. Hob touches that too, with light fingertips. Dream leans into his hand with a little sigh, and… oh. That’s something.

“Hey, he got the shit kicked out of him like a few days ago and just walked away like it was nothing,” Matthew complains, as if Dream’s I suppose answer is ridiculous. “And then obliterated the other guy, too.”

“Sorry, when was this?” Hob is still holding Dream’s cheek, but Dream doesn’t turn further to meet his eyes. “Why are you getting beaten up all the time, exactly?”

He’s not Dream’s minder. He’s not. He’s not. Hob forces himself to remember that fact.

“In my absence many have forgotten the might and sanctity of the Dreaming,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken there’s a little whining petulance in his tone which is… endearing, almost. “Other realms have become… impudent. Entitled. I am simply. Reminding them to show respect. Sometimes physical conflict is necessary.”

Hob sighs. “Well, Your Majesty, maybe it’s time to take a break from the ritual dueling, yeah?”

“…Perhaps,” Dream says, which is as much of an agreement as Hob ever gets.

He supposes he’ll take perhaps. Though the more he thinks about it, the more distressing it is to imagine Dream going around getting hurt. Even if he thinks he’s doing it for some important cause.

“Well, there’s not much I can do for these right now,” Hob says, and can’t keep the concern out of his voice. “Other than letting them heal on their own.”

“I see,” says Dream, and if Hob’s not mistaken his voice is small. And he reaches for his shirt, and—

“Hey.” Hob grabs his wrist. Dream freezes. “That doesn’t mean you have to leave?” He hates that it comes out as a question.

Dream wavers. Then he says, “Matthew.”

It’s loaded with more than just Matthew’s name. An order. Matthew squawks indignantly. “Boss! Come on. You’re really gonna send me back like that? When you’re like this?”

Dream just looks at him.

Matthew sighs, fluttering his wings. “Fine. Have your special private time, then.”

Special private time, Hob mouths to himself.

Matthew lifts his wings for takeoff. “You better not send him back with more bruises, Hobert.”

“Excuse me?”

Then he’s gone, winging out a window that Hob hadn’t realized was open. Maybe it wasn’t a moment ago. Who knows.

Dream looks after him, and sighs with real fatigue. “His insolence only grows.”

“Special private time?” Hob says, and Dream glances at him, and then away.

“He is under the impression that you are my…” he says, and trails off.

Oh. Well.

They’re not like that. But.

But?

Dream looks despondent now, staring off into the corner of the flat, back still turned to Hob’s chest. Hob’s become certain that he wants something, he came here for something, not just to make their usual meeting time… but he still doesn’t know what.

Probably he should ask. Not that that ever works with Dream. Probably he should anyway.

Instead he presses his lips to the curve of Dream’s shoulder, where the bruise is deepest blue.

Dream shudders, and then goes slack in his grip, his shoulders caving. “Hob…”

“Is that what you wanted?” Hob says against his skin. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Dream is letting him. “Does it hurt very badly? Is that helping?”

“It…” Dream muses, and sighs. “Is. Helping.”

Hob takes Dream’s chin between his fingers and turns his face enough that he can kiss his cheek, over the horrible sprawled mark of the bruise. Dream’s eyes flutter shut. He braces a hand on Hob’s thigh as he twists back to lean into Hob’s touch. Hob could use his grip to turn his head further and kiss him properly, he thinks, with a trip in his chest. Dream’s lips are right there, soft and open.

Instead, he leans his head on the back of Dream’s neck. Lets his hands fall to Dream’s bare waist, lips brushing his skin as he says, “You don’t… really bruise, do you?”

Dream still has his head tipped back; Hob’s hair brushes his cheek. “It affects you to see it,” he says quietly.

“Of course it does,” Hob says, equally hushed now. “I hate seeing you hurt.”

“Even,” says Dream, almost tentative, “if I am not truly hurt?”

“You are hurt,” Hob says, and finally draws the strength to lift his head from Dream’s neck. Dream is still looking at him, over his shoulder. His eyes are very dark in the dim light, rimmed red, he looks soft and fragile as a flower petal and Hob would do anything for him. “You were thrown into a wall by ‘something with a lot of limbs’, after all.”

Dream huffs. “Matthew exaggerates.”

“It’s okay if you want it to matter,” Hob tells him. That’s what it is, isn’t it? “To… be seen.” He slides his hand over Dream’s where it still rests on his thigh, twines their fingers together. A flicker of stillness runs through Dream’s body, the way a human’s breath might catch. Hob thinks he might pull away.

Instead he yields, and Hob exhales hard, a breath that had coiled far too tight in his lungs unwinding. Dream caves into him, and Hob wraps his arms around him, pulls him close, kisses the curve of his shoulder and watches a bruise disappear in the echo of that touch.

“Just wanted a hug after a rough day, in the end?” Hob says, and Dream huffs again as if such a desire is offending even to imply. He doesn’t move away though.

“Is it that easy for you?” Dream’s face is close enough that his hair brushes Hob’s temple as he speaks.

“And what if it is?” What if Hob had wanted to hug him when he first spoke of his imprisonment, and held back, and still regrets it? And what if it’s so easy to fall into it now? To slip into a world, this world where he can pull Dream into his arms, like he’s wading into the ocean for the first time, into foreign currents powerful beyond imagining but primordially known. Resonant as a familiar dream.

In some sense it would be accurate to say that Hob has known Dream all his life—he is, after all, dreams. But Hob doesn’t think of his friend as dreams. Maybe it’s a limitation of his human mind not to see the endless scale of the picture. But when he thinks of Dream, he doesn’t think of all of life or anything like that.

Instead, he goes back to their meeting in 1689. When Dream had thought he might no longer want to live, and Hob swore he saw a tear nearly break that usually stern countenance. Hob had always been fascinated by him, but he thinks that was the first moment he really saw him, beyond the cloak of distance and fantasy Dream liked to wrap around himself.

He’d like to think that Dream saw him then, too.

That’s the Dream he thinks of. The Dream he’d like to say he knows. The person, not the incomprehensible entity that Dream sees himself as. An incomprehensible entity can take a knife through the chest and dissipate around it like smoke, but not a person.

“If it is,” says Dream, pulling back to properly look at him, “then perhaps I might… impose.”

He looks so… cautiously hopeful. How can he not know already? “You think it’s possible for you to impose?”

“Imposition is easy,” says Dream, quietly. Hob lifts a hand to cup his cheek, and at the same time, as if of the same mind, Dream leans in and fits his face to Hob’s palm, eyes falling shut again.

He looks so gaunt now, with his bruised cheek and shadowed eyes, sharp collarbones and the swooping curves of his ribs. Hob had thought it had gotten better since his imprisonment, but now he’s not so sure. Maybe it’s just that without the shielding of his shirt, and his robe, he looks smaller than Hob’s used to thinking of him, and angular and fragile. He’s still so impossibly beautiful, delicate like a tree glazed in post-storm ice.

It makes Hob feel unexpectedly bold. His heart trips over, but he leans in and kisses the corner of Dream’s mouth.

Dream makes a quiet, surprised sound. Turns his head, blind, seeking, and then their lips connect properly.

When Hob had let himself imagine the possibility of kissing Dream, he had seen a force of nature. His friend would kiss with the chill of the rain that night he’d left Hob standing behind the White Horse. With the encompassing darkness of the night sky. The full experience of him would be overpowering and that was okay, because even a taste of him had already turned the course of Hob’s life.

But this Dream caves. Tips his head back in Hob’s hand, opens his mouth under Hob’s. Stiffness bleeds from him, regality flees him, and what Hob has left in his hands is a soft, horribly bruised thing leaning in for a deeper kiss.

So he kisses Dream deeper. Swipes his tongue into Dream’s mouth. He tastes slightly metallic, like he might have bitten his tongue and bled, were he human, and he makes a soft sound as Hob breaks the kiss for an unfortunate but necessary breath.

He keeps Dream close, hand to his cheek. Dream, eyes still closed, says, “A kiss just to comfort me, Hob?”

It hurts, just a little, that he thinks so. “How about a kiss just because I wanted to kiss you? You really think I’m more selfless than I am.”

Dream chuckles. “I see.”

Finally, he opens his eyes to look at Hob again properly. He looks tentatively happy now, it’s there in the slight crease at the corners of his eyes, the little spark that’s returned to them. Hob’s heart swells to see it, to think that he could do that.

“What then,” says Dream, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, “would you do… selfishly?”

“Same thing,” says Hob, and kisses him again. Dream hums into it this time, pleased. “And tell you to bring me with you next time you’re asserting your dominance around the galaxy or whatever.”

“Why?”

“There’s some guys I want to throw into walls,” Hob says.

Dream huffs, but Hob thinks he looks secretly pleased. “I am not certain ‘guys’ is an accurate description.”

“You think just because the fifteen-armed thing is a lady that I won’t—”

And Dream actually laughs, a startled choking laugh. “Your definition of chivalry is—” he gathers himself— “appalling.”

“Take it or leave it, Your Majesty,” Hob says, grinning. Nothing feels better than getting a rare laugh out of Dream.

Mirth sparkles in Dream’s eyes. “I will take it,” he says, turning his head to kiss Hob’s palm, “of course. When you offer me haven and defense both, how can I not?”

Hob presses his kissed palm back to Dream’s cheek, over the dark bruise there, watching it start to fade. “Bring me your bruises, darling,” he says, “and I’ll protect you.”

Dream leans back in, and rests his forehead against Hob’s. He doesn’t need to ask for another hug. Hob just wraps his arms around him, and lets Dream’s contented sigh be its own question, and answer, at once.

[girlwtdragontattoo]

Yandere Bard x Reader - Elphael Introduction

Introducing: Elphael, a yandere bard drow

Universe: Baldur's Gate 3 or DnD

(heavily inspired by Aaravos from The Dragon Prince hehe)

Summary: your childhood, musical friend is madly in love with you, fantasizing about you in secret and planning to make you his

Warning: 18+ content, general nsfw, toxic, obsessive behavior

-----

The way your shoulder grazed his as you sat beside him. He wanted to pin you against the floor with his bodyweight, stuffing his dripping, black tongue in your throat to smother your voice. His lavender chest pressing against your soft skin, the nebula tattoos adorning his arms and abdomen alight with greed. His long, grey hair would fall and pool next to your head, intertwining with your soft tresses, as your velvet hands explore his arched, scarred back.

“Elph, did you hear me?”, you asked, blinking at him.

The drow, Elphael, twitched at the sound of your voice. He had been staring at you, holding his black violin up to his face.

“Uh, what? Sorry, I was … somewhere else,” he gruffed in his raspy voice. In his mind, he was frantically waving the dirty images away in order to concentrate.

“Can we change the tempo in this section? It feels a bit stagnate.” You were pointing at a part of the notes sheet displayed in front of you. Your voice was so enchanting. Why couldn’t he have one like yours? So sweet, like the soft sound of rain outside.

His grey eyes tore themselves away from your lips, to follow where your finger was hovering.

“Oh, yeah. You’re right. We can halve these notes right here.” He placed his calloused finger where yours was, just for the chance to feel your skin once again.

Elphael had longed for you, ever since you had met. He adored that face of yours. The second he saw you; he felt his heart drop into his stomach. The way your hair fell so effortlessly, it was so plump and alluring. He always wanted to entangle his long fingers in it. Pulling it, while his other hand held your hips.

But you were friends. Long time friends, too. You saw him more as a sibling. When you called him his brother, he wanted to prove you wrong. To hold your arms pinned together with one hand, drinking in your scent as his lips and tongue trailed down your neck, to your chest, biting. Feasting on that irresistable flesh.

Gods, if only.

“Let’s try that!” Your words yanked him back into the present.

You repositioned yourself, holding the guitar in your hands, strumming the beginning of the song you had been practicing, humming tenderly. As you swayed to the tune, your arm brushed his again. It drove him crazy.

Elphael spasmed and held his instrument firmer in his hand, joining in the melody at his part a bit frantically.

You would see reason one day and realize how perfect you two were together. The intensity of his desire for you terrified even him, he didn’t want to scare you away.

He needed to be patient. The moment would come.

And if it didn’t…well, maybe if you experienced how good it was to be with him. How delicious the pungent smell of your skin writhing under his could be. He would show you what a good lover he was. Persuade you with his caress. Convince you with his touch.

Maybe you’d understand then.

[llamaisllama777]

LAES,TSAMS,EAPS WEEKLY*/*DAILY REVIEW SHOW!!!!!

Okay, we had a lot of really good episodes today, so let's hurry up and talk about them!

First up, FAMILY MOMENTS! I love this thumbnail so much, especially Moon's face.. I .. I just love it!

I love how we get to learn about everyone's movie preferences. It's interesting learning these little random tidbits about them. It's fun. Also Sun...

SPY KIDS 3 IS GREAT, AND I WILL NOT HEAR OTHERWISE!!! 😡

Also, Prince of Egypt is a really good movie. You all should go watch it. Even if you aren't religious, it's really good and has some awesome animation and music. Seriously, if you haven't watched, please do. I think it's on YouTube for free???

This episode was cute.... ONTO THE TRAUMA!

Bout time, I was wondering when Nexus would try to kidnap Sun. Took longer than I expected... I wonder why? 🤔

This episode I think confirmed a theory I had...

New Moon/Nexus never cared.

I had this thought in the back of my head that Nexus never really cared about them. He never thought of them as family. He just saw them as people he was told to call family. They were NEVER his family. He never really cared. He just cared about Solar, but Solar never saw him as a brother. OOOFFFFF!

That hurts!

But I'm glad we know because DANG! The angst there!

Also, Sun is stronger than Nexus' chain ability (That ability where he forces people to the floor. I like to imagine purple chains form around the person when he uses that move)

Nexus was so close to kidnapping Sun....

BUT MONTY CAME IN STINKIN' CLUTCH!!!!!!

Monty FINALLY got to use the shotgun! He nearly killed Nexus there! Thank you, Nebula, for the starshells! The Astrals are starting to grow on me.

(Okay... maybe a was a little rash on the whole "Down with the Astrals" "Viva la revolution" thing!) Sorry, Astrals. Still don't really trust Taurus or Leo tho.

Things are getting serious! October is in like two weeks! The creator is still out there! Rez and Cetus are out there! And Dark Sun still has a stinkin' dragon! This is gonna be an exciting October! I'm so excited!

Also, thank you, Davis and Reed, for this picture of Monty with a shotty.

And lastly...

Okay, Eclipse looks like that one guy from the office that conspiracy theory guy. And Puppet just looks depressed.

Puppet really wants to catch the killer. It's really affecting her. It's the MCI incident all over again. And she clearly doesn't want anyone or herself to go through that again. Eclipse still won't watch movies with anyone. It's only a matter of time, though. The moment he says yes and joins them is the moment his redemption arc is complete for me!

So, Eclipse and Puppet have narrowed down the killer to 4 suspects. All employees of Fazbear.

1. Vincent

2. Some lady named Margo

3. A teenage intern who works in the daycare named Josh

4. And the repair man whose name I forget.

I don't think it's any of these guys. But I have a few theories on who the killer could be..

1. Michael Afton of this world. Eclipse did mention in one of the early episodes of the EAPS that the Michael of this world was/still is an employee of Fazbears.

2. Henry Emily. Just cause the angst that it would cause Puppet.

3. The Charlie of this world. Just cause again the angst it would cause Puppet being the killer of this world!

There is no way it's Wanda(the William of this world)

And I highly doubt it's Vincent or some rando employee.

It has to be someone important.

These episodes were amazing!

Davis, Reed, Kat, Valentine, you guys did amazing on these episodes again!

12/10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Extra point cause WOW!

Also shout out to this commentor for having the funniest comment on there.

Nebula, you are starting to become my favorite Astral!

Also, Patchnotes is a ship I really hope happens now!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Filling the Gaps

Author's Note: the story ended around a year ago, but oddly enough there are certain parts of the internet where it hasn't died. Wattpad keeps things alive, and every time someone comments I get a notification. Often this results in me reading my old writing, and I have recently noticed this very annoying gap hat I completely glossed over.

The first time Adam admits his feelings for Sunny we never see the aftermath, and it ticked me off. He admits his feelings and then later they are dating, and a lot of stuff just goes missing in between. I know it was because I wasn't ready or comfortable enough with the subject to write it at the time, but tonight when I got all annoyed, I realized that it's still mine, and I can write whatever and whenever I want.

A lot of you have moved on, but if some of you found this annoying then I hope this helps fix it.

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“If we waited for you to be ready, we might never talk. I don’t want to grow old waiting for you to figure it out, Adam.” 

Adam turned towards Sunny, away from the viewscreen, but paused halfway between. His head was down, and from the corner of his eye he could see a part of her body, blue carapace glittering like starlight in the late evening. 

He couldn’t see her face.

“Okay, but not here, not where people could walk in.”

He was stalling. His heart hammered in his head. His stomach twisted into knots like his guts had become snakes. 

He turned away from her and headed towards the door. He could hear her walking behind him glad that she couldn’t see his face. Had he ever felt worse? 

Yes.

That was an unfair question. He had felt worse, but he had never felt like this. There was some special kind of torture in social vulnerability — in confrontation. Adam knew what was coming, ever since their duel in the cargo hold, this inevitability had hung over his head like a sword suspended on a wire.

He had admitted to his feelings for her, admitted them to himself.

And then he ran away.

But even the universe, and a space dragon, could not patch up the cracks in this leaking dam, could not shove the words back in his mouth.

The walk to his rooms were too short despite the size of the ship, and before he knew it he was stepping into a familiar, safe darkness. As the door slid open, soft blue light bloomed from the strip lighting on the floor bathing his personal effects in cool ambience. As the door hissed shut behind him; he immediately regretted coming here.

He had brought her back to his space, to where he slept.

It felt intimate, too intimate.

Unsafe.

As if he was opening the walls of his mind and letting her peer inside.

They were alone now.

He heard her move behind him, and chose to walk over to the window, hands clasped behind his back as he stared out into the nebulae. Nothing could be heard here but for the distant thrumming of the engines.

He didn’t want her to see how nervous he was, how sick he felt, but he knew she could.

His hands trembled.

It felt like embarrassment but somehow much worse. There was anticipation there too, the kind he didn’t want to admit to. 

A part of him was excited for this, hoped that something would happen, hoped that this would go the exact place the rest of him hoped it wouldn’t. Even as he stared into the star field, he could feel his own walls dissolving. Thoughts and feelings he had carefully packed away were now impossible to ignore. Hiding behind the appearance of the space dragon was only a temporary fix and now there would be a reckoning.

“Adam.”

Her voice was low and smooth. He had picked that voice for her, a long time ago when she had first been granted the translation equipment, but he could still feel her real voice underneath: a gentle hum that sent vibrations through his ears, morphing to a shiver that traveled down the sides of his neck. He closed his eyes feeling as his body broke out into a nervous sweat despite the ideal temperature of the room.

“Are you feeling okay?”

He laughed, and even to him it sounded nervous, lurching upwards from his throat in awkward sputters, “No.”

He heard her take a seat on the edge of the bed, listened to the blankets shifting as they brushed over each other.

In his mind he could see her poised at its edge. He could imagine the light as it fell over her body. The entire image was penned into his head in such exquisite detail he didn’t need to look at her.

“So, are we going to talk about this?” She said, She sounded so calm, and  he wondered how she was doing it. He felt so small all of a sudden, a child compared to her and he didn’t know how to take the sensation back.

“Then talk.” His voice felt tight.

“I’m not the one who needs convincing.”

He closed his eyes. “What do you want me to say?”

“I want us to talk about what is going to happen moving forward. I need to know where this goes.”

His hands continued to shake. “I don’t know. . .I’ve never. . . I don’t know if I can.” 

“Why don’t you start with telling the truth. I think we both need to hear it.”

He paced two steps to the right and then two steps to the left, “Why, you already know.”

“You’re not exactly convincing.”

He laughed again, another nervous laugh and turned away from the window, still refusing to look at her. His feet carried him back and forth over the floor in short, quick steps. The walls spun past him. Every time he turned he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye and his heart picked up in pace.

“Maybe I don’t want to be convincing.” It felt like a hand around his throat.

“Why not?”

He threw up his hands. “Because!” His voice cracked. No, not now, not like this.

His eyes stung and his face grew hot and he turned his head to the ceiling.

“Adam. . .” 

He squeezed his eyes shut. Every time she said his name it was like being branded, each time a new wave of heat washing through his body.

“Why can’t you say it?” 

“Because I’m not supposed to feel like this!” He couldn't stop it, the words tumbled from his lips, and even he could hear his voice shaking. He kept his face pointed up and away.. He wished he could sink through the floor. He wished the window would open up and suck him into space.

He looked at the door.

Could he run again?

He heard her shift behind him, knew she could tell what he was thinking. She always knew.

His cheeks flamed with heat.

“I don’t understand, why can’t you feel like this?”

His hands dropped from behind his back and he turned down to look at them, anything to avoid looking at her. Suddenly he felt distant, detached from his body as he stared at his hands. He never expected this would happen, but now here it was, and somehow he was having trouble comprehending that fact.

“You’ve always supported LFIL, so I don’t understand. Do you find them disgusting? Is that why?”

He took another deep, shaky breath and turned his eyes back to the ceiling, “No! I didn’t say that. Of course I support them , but that. . . for other  people, not for me.”

“I don’t get it.” her voice was calm, but he knew her enough to know the undertone of frustration there. Not at him but at his words for not making sense.

He breathed in, but it wasn’t smooth, it stuttered and stammered like his voice, “I know it doesn’t make sense, I know it’s stupid, I know, but it's okay for other people to do it, I support them in what they are doing, but when it comes to me. “I” can’t do it. They are allowed to do it but I am not because if I do it, it would be wrong.”

His voice choked.

His heart clenched.

How must this make her feel? It's okay for other people, but my feelings about you make me feel disgusted. Is that what she would hear? 

Would he drive her away, insult her?

Is that what he wanted?

To his surprise, she laughed and he could feel goosebumps erupt over his body at the noise.

“It’s not stupid. Nothing you think is stupid, not to me.”

He felt the emotion then, prickling behind his eyes and nose. He valiantly struggled to keep himself in check, and kept his face turned away from her.

He took a deep breath. “Admitting to this feels like. . . feels like admitting they’re right.”

“Who?”

He flung out a hand in an angry arching gesture trying to make up for the emotion with aggression, “Everyone, everyone since I was young. All of the people on the news who accuse me of it, all the people I grew up with calling me a freak, certain members of my family. If I admit to this they win and I prove them right and I. . .” He dashed a hand across his teeth, teeth gritted in frustration and embarrassment.

“So, let me get this straight. You don’t get to be happy because people you don’t care about would be right?” 

He was pacing in circles now, so fast he was making himself dizzy, like he could replace one feeling with another.

“Adam.” 

He walked past her.

“Adam.”

He went to go past her again, but that’s when her hand struck out, catching him by the wrist.

“Look at me.”

He didn’t want to. He kept his head turned to the side, but then she reached up a hand touching his cheek and turning him to face her. His skin felt hot, and her hand cool. His heart hammered in his chest. He met her eyes for the first time in days.

“How are you so calm. . .” 

Her hand slid down his wrist, catching his hand. “Adam, All of my life I have been a disappointment and a freak and an embarrassment. I have been rejected time and time again, the object of hatred and mockery. I am an expert in handling how you feel right now.”

His chest ached, his tongue caught on itself. “I feel like I’ve missed my window for that. Everyone figured it out early and I. . . I thought I was supposed to be alone.”

“Oh no, it seems I get you all to myself. What a tragedy.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.

She tilted her head. ‘Well, neither do I, but it can’t be that hard. Idiots figure it out all the time.” her fingers slid between his, four fingers slotting perfectly into place. His hand felt numb. With another hand she pulled him closer.

He couldn’t ignore it now: the feeling rising in his stomach, the way his eyes were drawn to the curve of her cheek, the turn of her neck into her shoulder, the curve of her leg.

Her eyes.

“You know what we Drev do, instead of kissing?” 

He shook his head afraid to speak. She pulled him even closer the outside of his leg brushing against the inside of hers. She leaned up and he bent his head down. Then their foreheads brushed against each other. Static erupted through his face and down his cheek. She pulled him to sit next to her, mattress sinking so his leg was pressed into hers. She turned her head, the corner of her mouth and face brushing against his cheek, and then his ear. 

The static sensation rushed down the back of his neck and into his shoulder before stopping at his lower back.

His hands fluttered uselessly unsure of where to go and what to do. 

His stomach writhed.

Her head dipped and she briefly brushed up against his jaw sending the static into his face and chin.

And then she let him go, pulling away.

He was left, unsteady body buzzing.

Sunny chuckled, “Hmm, interesting.”

“What?” He managed.

“You aren’t dead, didn’t dissolve into a puddle, the ship didn’t explode.”  They weren’t touching anymore but he now wished they were. It was getting easier to admit that. “So, is this something you would like to move forward?” 

He couldn’t find the words. His tongue still felt thick, whatever part of him which had been holding back still clinging to the tatters. 

But where his tongue was tied his body was not.

He nodded.

It was only then did he see the tension leave her shoulders. She took a deep breath.

Had she been nervous too?

How had he missed it?

“Good. I had hoped you would say that."

[purity-town]

Ask responses below the cut! Lots of thoughts on Terraria lore and Purity Town worldbuilding -- mostly focusing on the Crimson, the war, and Guides.

Reasons why I chose Corruption over Crimson, off the top of my head:

Artistic reasons: Chris was always going to lean towards magenta & dark blue weapons/armor where possible as a nod to the nebula pillar coloration, and I felt that it was easier to work with those colors against a purple/gray/brown background than a red one. Similarly, the purple of demonite matches the Corruption colors, making it easy to tie a visual connection between demonite and the shadow orbs' evil energy.

Personal reasons: My first world was a Corruption one, and I tend to favor Corruption in general as I like the music more.

Practical reasons: It's much, much easier to draw worms and the various other Corruption enemies than it is to draw the Crimson enemies, as the Crimson enemies are far more complicated in appearance and poses. Plus all the blood and brains puts me in an awkward spot as I don't want to run into issues with any of the websites I post the comic to.

Lore reasons: While the Brain of Cthulhu does very nicely match up with Moon Lord's actual design, it doesn't have a Mech boss associated with it, and I didn't want the Destroyer to feel like it came out of nowhere; I felt it was easier to justify the EoW being related to evil/Moon Lord in some way than the Destroyer existing in a Crimson world. The Corruption's shadow orbs also naturally tie into the idea of the "ancient spirits of light and dark" being released from the underworld, as the Crimson doesn't really convey the "dark" side of things that well. Also, the Crimson is generally associated with health while the Corruption is associated with mana, and since Chris is a mage I wanted to lean into the magic side of things.

As for my ideas with the Crimson:

Theme-wise, the blood and gore is easy to relate back to the same consuming, flesh-melding energy of blood moons. (While blood moons already have a link to Corruption/Crimson in the form of corrupt/vicious animals, the Crimson just makes more sense.) The massive skeletons in the background bring up similarities with bone serpents and wyverns/phantasm dragon, and the eyeballs with the EoC/WoF/True EoC.

Where the Corruption is more of the culmination of sin and dark thoughts and eldritch energies that twist whatever they come into contact with, the Crimson is a growing, living being that spiraled into wild mutation from eldritch energy. The Corruption naturally grows over time through additional sins giving it the power to spread, while the Crimson grows by actively consuming more and more living material; contamination vs. infection; acidic vs. corrosive.

The Crimson is a hive mind, of the sort where each new mind adds its knowledge and input to the collective, and likewise has its will overridden by the majority. At the core of it all is the Brain of Cthulhu -- intelligent, but not something that can be reasoned with or spoken to; the sort of being whose mind is so fundamentally different from a human's that anyone who comes into contact would be left mentally shattered. Much the same way one who stares into the darkness seeking to study the eldritch and bizarre could be left broken.

Where the Corruption chasms are worm tracks, I've always interpreted the Crimson chasms as a heart and the arteries spreading out from it. Or maybe the tendrils of a spreading infection? Not really sure!

Side note, the general theme (flesh/blood) and many of the monsters (face monster, crimera, blood feeder, etc.) also tie very well into the Wall of Flesh and its hunger. The justification for the WoF being so...flesh in the comic is that Andrew is a human*, and so the WoF's form is influenced by what his soul knows (flesh and blood body), mixed with lots and lots of eldritch energy giving it the visual ties to the EoC/Moon Lord in the eyes/mouth. But it's not as natural of a link as "the WoF's form is steeped in overflowing Crimson energy locked away in the center of the earth."

Instead of shattering, I imagine it would just poof into a particularly liquid-looking red smoke. Something to combine it being an immaterial/magical collection of energy with it being bloody and gory. Less of the sharp/shattered/sparkly look of shadow orbs, and something more organic and primal.

As for Crimson hearts...I suppose it's the other side of the coin of shadow orbs. Keeping with the theme of Crimson being vaguely health/damage-related while Corruption is mana-related, where shadow orbs are pustules of evil and eldritch magic, I could imagine Crimson hearts as concentrations of the life energy that's been consumed by/generated within the Crimson. Something that pulses with the hearts and minds of the countless creatures that have been incorporated into the Crimson before. Hence the panic necklace; something that fills you with adrenaline and the vitality to push forward and run for your life when hurting (compared to the band of starpower boosting your ability to channel magic).

BAD. Really, really, really bad.

The most obvious reason was all of the general destruction that the world had suffered at that point. Land masses ripped apart or twisted/distorted. Civilization shredded, infrastructure destroyed. What wasn't outright blasted to bits was warped beyond recognition or so corrupted there was no hope of salvaging what had been there before. Loss of homes means exposure to the elements, and loss of farmland means starvation; many societies crumbled or were staggered by the loss of vital industries and resources.

The main surviving communities were small subsets of what were once larger cultures. They were the ones lucky enough to have enough resources nearby to be self-sustaining -- cities had it the worst, requiring resources to be brought in from elsewhere, while more remote communities tended to be affected the least. Andrew, for instance, grew up in a very small community out on the plains, and while they did have contact with other communities, trade was limited to only specialty goods. Everything else came from the local area.

On top of the physical loss of land and infrastructure, there was also the loss of knowledge. The people who stood up to fight were the most powerful mages and strongest warriors, trying to hold back the destruction and stop the eldritch power contaminating the world; when they died, their knowledge of the world died with them. Similarly, Dryads were far more common back then, with people relying on them to interpret the weather, bless the crops, protect them from harm, and purify any imbalance of good and evil. So even the folks who did survive had to suddenly adjust to having no Dryads to fall back on.

Then, just when they thought the worst of it was over -- that their world had ended and was something new and scary, but stable -- the first Blood Moon rises and everything goes to Hell in a hand-basket once more (albeit only for a night). So now, rather than the night being a time for mages to practice their craft, the inherent chaos of the dark is now dialed up 1000% (even moreso during blood moons). Hence the push for some folks to try and find solace beneath the earth -- building the underground cabins, establishing the Dungeon, and the Lihzahrds locking themselves within a temple away from the sky.

The world was finally given a chance to breathe again once most of the eldritch magic, and in equal measure the divine hallow, was locked away in the core of the world. But by that point the old world was already a distant memory. It's been 500 years since the war, around 450 since most magic was locked away, and what did remain from before the war gave the world a significant boost in recovery. Old magic items and technology can be studied and recreated, and while technological/magical advancement is a bit uneven from region to region depending on their level of development and general population, the Guides have worked hard sharing everything they know between them to rebuild.

Purity Town, and the smaller villages immediately surrounding it (in the desert, snowy mountains, etc.) has such a low population/is so remote that they don't have much in the way of established governance. Various NPCs arguably have varying levels of authority within their specialization: Heather is the go-to for healing, Malik is the local monster hunter, and so on, but it's all very informal. The individual villages probably all have people who handle day-to-day things -- there are various random folks who live in the region to fill out each village outside of the established NPCs -- but it's just something going on in the background to keep the place running.

Guides aren't really meant to be politicians either, but they do often fall into a default leadership role since they're the go-to advice guys!

They're meant to preserve and share knowledge of the world, its languages, and its cultures; a reaction to the vast majority of that knowledge having been lost in the wake of the war 500 years ago. So Guides are out there fielding questions like "how do I make this medicine/when do I harvest this plant/is this edible/etc.," but they also are expected to know enough about situations like weather/celestial events such that they can give advice no matter what crops up. Extend that attitude to a more general "this person knows how to handle Problems, so let's default to whatever they tell us whenever we run into Problems," and you end up with Guides often taking pseudo-leadership or advisory positions.

Andrew is in something of a weird spot, as he took over for a much more established/respected Guide after she retired and threw him into it, and is not particularly good at commanding authority or dealing with people in the way she could, even though he tries to be nice. But he's extremely, extremely knowledgeable, even compared to other Guides due to having been around for long enough to pick up so much knowledge, so at least he can fulfill that aspect of the job easily enough and the townsfolk trust him to do so.

Tangentially related, but the lack of solid governance is specific/unique to Purity Town's remoteness. With a small enough population, folks rely on the cooperation and skills of others much more, and any disputes would be worked out among the townsfolk proper.

The world isn't fully settled, but there are some locations with enough of a population to be considered actual kingdoms (see: Princess NPC) with established government (see: Tax Collector). Chris' hometown, which sees a lot of ship traffic/trade, has a proper government, local guard, etc. along with their own Guide. Purity Town is just particularly out there! But it's still been around for long enough to have seen some trade, built up some skills among the residents, and establish basic infrastructure so that residents can live comfortably. Like comparing a small town in the modern day to a remote village in medieval times, residents still enjoy a relatively high standard of living, despite being a scattered and remote population.

The world hasn't recovered to where it was pre-Moon Lord, but it's certainly not a post-apocalyptic wasteland anymore!

[komickrazi]

Dragon #100!

I've finally done it, I've made 100 dragon fursuits!!! Just in time for the Year of the dragon!

To celebrate the #100 I made a GOLD dragon.

He is built on a fiberglass base with moving jaw and zipper closure in the back of the head and adjustable head mount.  He features a beautiful scale fabric accented with handpainted gold edging.  The gold fabric on the underside of the tail, throat and inner ears was entirely hand smocked.

He also features tongue, spikes and claws from Dream vision creations, Horns from Red nebula cosplay and eyebrow ridges from Weasels on Easels.

This Dragon is available for sale! Please send me a note if you would like to make an offer

[astronomypolls]

[admrlthundrbolt]

Masterlist

Stranger Things

Straight Through The Heart (Eddie Munson x Chubby Reader)

Jojo's Bizzare Adventure

The Most Beautiful Girl In The World (Okuyasu x Chubby Reader)

One Way Or Another (Selkie N'Doul x Chubby Reader

Voices In My Head (Secco x Chubby Reader)

How Did You Love (Polnareff x Chubby Reader)

Heal The Pain (Dragon Wamuu x Chubby Reader)

Black Magic Woman (Werewolf Santana x Chubby Reader)

Evil Walks (Poltergeist Esidisi x Chubby Reader)

Just What I Needed (Gorgon Kars x Chubby Reader)

Believer (Gargoyle Risotto x Chubby Reader)

Resident Alien

Warm Heart Pastry (Harry x Chubby Reader)

One-Punch Man

Love is a Battlefield (Garou x Chubby Reader)

Holding Out For A Hero (Mumen Rider x Chubby Reader)

Elevate (King x Chubby Reader)

Bullet Train

Apple Blossom (Lemon x Chubby Reader x Tangerine)

Stayin' Alive (Ladybug x Chubby Reader

Resident Evil

Your Love Could Start a War (Lady Dimitrescu x Cubby Reader)

New Future Weapon (Mutant Wesker x Chubby Reader)

Encanto

Dance Macabre (Bruno x Chubby Reader)

Harley Quinn

Have Faith In Me (Bane x Chubby Reader)

Overwatch

You Dropped A Bomb On Me (Junkrat x Chubby Reader)

The Road to El Dorado

I Put A Spell On You (Tzekel-Kan x Chubby Reader)

Camp Camp

Perfect World (David x Cubby Reader)

Spider-Man

Ashes (Norman Osborn x Chubby Reader)

Emperor's New Clothes (Doc Ock x Chubby Reader)

Firefly

Wait A Minute My Girl (Jayne x Chubby Reader)

Scream

You Spin Me Round (Billy x Chubby Reader x Stu)

Naruto

Sweet Tooth (Iruka x Chubby Reader)

Batman

Leather and Lace (Killer Croc x Chubby Reader)

Friday the 13th

Die To Live (Jason Vorhees x Chubby Reader)

Hunter X Hunter

Do It All The Time (Hisoka x Chubby Reader x Illumi)

Drag Me Down(Minotaur Uvogin x Chubby Reader)

Guardians of the Galaxy

Edge Of Midnight (Nebula x Chubby Reader)

What We Do in the Shadows

Under The Graveyard (Petyr x Chubby Reader)

Alone Together (Nandor the Relentless x Chubby Reader)

Inglorious Bastards

Some Nights (Hugo Stiglitz x Chubby Reader)

Halloween

Popular Monster (Demon Michael Myers x Chubby Reader)

Pokemon

Electric Love (Guzma x Chubby Reader)

Arcane

Reckless Paradise (Silco x Chubby Reader)

Terminator

One Of Those Days (Sarah Conner x Chubby Reader)

Mad Max

Radioactive (Furiosa x Chubby Reader)

Mario Bros

Love From The Other Side (Bowser x Chubby Reader)

Jeepers Creepers

Centuries (Jeepers Creepers x Chubby Reader)

Halloweentown

Tongue Tied (Luke x Chubby Reader)

Venom

Run Run Run (Eddie x Chubby Reader x Venom)

Stardew Valley

Therapy (Harvey x Chubby Reader)

[kirby-souljourney-au]

Meta time!!!!

No, I didn’t forget he had a cape until I was almost finished, I knew the entire time I swear. (I definitely forgot.)

Once again, this man takes up too much canvas space for me to put his scar map in the same one as his full ref, so he needs a separate image as well.

All his information and hex codes are under the cut, as usual!

I still can’t draw abs. And I’m sorry this took kinda long, I got distracted… the Taboo rewrite & the planning for the fic itself has a vice grip on my soul.

Full name: Ione Argon

Aliases: Meta Knight, ‘Nene’ (don’t call him that unless you’re his friend)

Species: Earthling Dragon (Fire/Ground) x Dream-Dark-Matter Astral Hybrid

Planet of Origination: Popstar

Age: 231

Height: 6’10”

Gender: Intersex; identifies as non-binary

Pronouns: He/Him/His

Sexuality: Multi-spec lesbian, asexual

S/O: Galacta Iriam (fiancée) (and Ophanim/Morpho EX (girlfriend), in the future)

Family: Hano Agron (biological mother), Ekia Argon (older sister), Vaga Argon (older sister), Sirv Argon (younger brother), Kirby Argon (adopted son) (as well as Athena Iriam (daughter), in the future)

The famous Meta Knight of the Galaxy Soldier Army, well-known for his title and sacred blade, Galaxia.

Engaged to Galacta Iriam — currently has no biological children with him, but adopted 14-year-old Kirby as their son when he was aged 6.

Works as a Knight under Dreamland’s King Dedede, and is head of Castle Dedede’s Royal Guard.

Quiet and seemingly apathetic, though kind-hearted and meaning nothing but well, he finds general difficulty in befriending others due to his somewhat off-putting demeanour. He is very kind, though, just ultimately socially awkward and nervous as an individual.

He joined the GSA the second he turned 19, believing himself to be responsible for the safety of the Galaxy due to his Astral heritage, as well as to get as far away from his mother as possible. He worked with them for the majority of his life since he joined, until an attack by Nightmare wiped out nearly all the GSA’s forces and scattered those that remained. He’s worked for King Dedede as his Knight for about 30 years, and finds genuine enjoyment in his current job.

His weapon of choice is the sacred Master Sword, a sentient enchanted blade named Galaxia. He also uses his natural Fire magic, and on rare occasion, Dream Magic, when necessary. Very well-trained in swordplay, and certainly no easy opponent.

Hex codes

Both:

4F3224 — Scars / Palms

311A0F — Skin

101010 — Socks / Gloves

120E1C — Fuzz fade / Cape back

1D1D47 — Hair / Fuzz base

E0BEFF — Inner ears / Wing webbing

FCC66F — Iris 1

FFFFFF — Wing talons

BFBFBF — Ring / Thigh guards (or whatever they’re called) / Arm guards

Armoured:

18122B — Chestplate & Pauldrons 1

2C2240 — Battle shirt (?)

32353E — Pants

6B5B86 — Straps

CCCFFD — ‘M’ symbol

472A77 — Sabatons

E4C69A — Chestplate & Pauldrons 2

000000 — Inner cape (plus multicoloured Nebulae)

Unarmoured:

1A1A1B — Shirt

343434 — Face mask / Dress pants

D2CDC4 — Iris 2

FFFBF4 — Eye whites

Tail-tip:

08003D — Base / Fade 1 (using Nebula brush)

00113D — Fade 2 (using Nebula brush)

0046FF — ‘Star’ patterning (using Glimmer brush on Hard Light, with base & fade colours overlaid on top using a clipping-mask Colour layer)

[gethoce]

I saw a thing on Discord about OC kill counts and Valfrey was somehow discounted for being a reaper in my absence, but let's try to take ALL of her lore into account!

Valfrey cares about nothing more than their purpose and the first purpose they saw in their life was to reap souls, that is true. The souls that were unwilling to come with them I would count as a kill, personally, but maybe you people don't.

They eventually found a new purpose after their wife died and began to send demon beasts to kill every living being, which was to kill all the demons. After all, they had killed a lot of her children! About half of them were wiped out. It really depends on whether killing demons counts to you I suppose but they were intelligent beings, if perhaps not innocent beings. Most of them that is. Not that it mattered to Valfrey, demon is demon.

After Valfrey sealed away their wife and its brother they assumed their negatively charged form upon… dying the honourable death of a samurai. In this form they are known as Yamata No Orochi, an eight-headed dragon large enough to swallow planets and swallow planets they did! Their hunger for souls was unparalleled. They ate 7 out of 8 forks of a galaxy until the legendary heroes Susanoo, Amaterasu and Kushinadahime defeated them, causing Valfrey to return to their positively charged form.

Then, after Twinkle Popopo had perished, Valfrey found their third purpose, which was to exterminate all dark matter. They went on a crusade, killing all dark matterborn they came across and everything that contained dark matter to a degree such as NZs, Scarfies and those who were infected. Valfrey pulled Demon Star (or Dämmerstern) into Yomi which killed everyone who was on that planet. They wiped out the Demon Tribe, caused the Dark Rooms to spread and cause massive destruction on a galactic level and continued their crusade for many decades erasing lineages and traumatising survivors until they attacked the wrong person and the Dark Nebula incident occurred.

Since their return they've been looking for a new sense of purpose. No notable killings occurred, though some probably died by their hand here and there. Conclusion… Out of every character in my AU they probably have the second highest kill counts after Baal Hadad.

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

Find the word

Thanks to @elsie-writes here and here!

My words: behind, yell, couch, bird, away, eyes, stretch, moon, worm

Your words: present, just, unaware always

Tagging @whatwewrotepodcast @talesofsorrowandofruin @leahnardo-da-veggie @pluppsauthor @sunset-a-story

@eccaiia @buffythevampirelover @space-writes @alinacapellabooks @rickie-the-storyteller

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

@nebula--nix @literarynecromancy

Keep reading for:

Kelsey's first appearance

Noelle's grilled cheese opinion

Meet George

I'm using a different definition of bird

Gwen and Akash meet

This is based on a true story

Scary telepathy facts with Carla

Gwen and Akash are dating now <3

Gross Halloween Party games

Behind - from The Secret Portal Part One (Maddie POV)

I snuck up behind her before tackling her in a hug. Kelsey yelped, but laughed, giving me a semi-hug back; the best she could give from the awkward angle. “Hey, Maddie,” Kelsey greeted, taking her backpack off the chair she saved for me and moving it to the floor. She removed the pods from her ears and shook her head to knock her short, choppy hair out of her eyes, but her bangs just fell back in her face. I took the now-empty seat next to her. “Your glasses are smudged.” Kelsey removed them and rubbed them on what I hoped, for the safety of her lenses, was a cotton shirt.

Yell(ing) - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

“Best grilled cheese sandwich?” Noelle stopped, thinking. “Sourdough, Cheddar and Muenster, sliced tomatoes, sauteed greens, sliced pear, ham, and cut into two diagonal pieces.” Silence. I peeked into her mind. “Could you by any chance make that sandwich sometime?” Noelle smiled slightly. “Sure.” “Told you Muenster was the best,” Liam said. “Which means, I win.” This ensued more overlapping yelling.

Couch - from The Secret Portal Part One (Lexi POV)

Carla and a taller, older boy were sitting on the larger couch. The boy—or maybe young man—held what appeared to be a granola bar in his hand, out of a wrapper. A world of dragons and portals and they still have regular food? On the table in front of him sat a plate with other unwrapped granola bars set on top of it. Jeez. He wore earrings and a red beanie-like hat with a green fringed jacket over an orange crewneck. His bright blue eyes against his skin tone reminded me of Maddie. Based on the state of the room, I couldn’t help but wonder if these two lived alone.

Bird - from The Secret Portal Part Two (Ash POV)

“The rules of this exercise are simple,” said Wade from the other side of the room. “The goal is to remove the other team’s necklace. If your necklace gets taken, you cannot get it back—you are out. You can attempt to incompacitate your opponent, but the ground rules is that you can’t knock them unconscious. We don’t want any serious injuries.” “Boooo!” Jazlyn and Parker said from next to me. Wade gave them the bird from across the room. They just returned it.

Away - from The Secret Portal Part One (Gwen POV)

I realized I was staring when Akash smiled. “You’re new around here, aren’t you?” When I didn’t answer, he added, “You want me to help you down?” I nodded, and Akash wrapped his arm around me. I flinched slightly—a cute boy was touching me!—but allowed him to do so. I let go of the vent and let him fly me to the floor. I suddenly realized I had wrapped my arms around him. I quickly pushed away from him. “Thanks,” I muttered. I glanced off to the side and panic ran through me when I noticed a bed. I could feel my cheeks turning red. I just fell into a cute boy’s room! As if I wasn’t embarrassed enough.

Eyes - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

Shelby giggled as she reached for a cookie in the center of the table. “And what happened next?” I sniggered, trying to hold my laughter in so I could tell the story. “So—” I burst out laughing. Shelby rolled her eyes, but while smiling. “So, Mr. Taylor got mad at Jasmine for not playing soft enough and?” “And—” I took a deep breath, trying to keep calm. “And Jasmine said, ‘Mr. Taylor, I wasn't even playing!’” Shelby burst into a fit of laughter as her dad walked into the dining area.

Stretch - from The Secret Portal Part One (Ash POV)

Carla fiddled with the ring hanging from the chain around her neck. “The mind can only stretch so far. If advanced telepaths did—or even do—exist, there would be no way they could function. Their minds aren’t able to communicate the information that they can comprehend. They end up lost in their own thoughts, unable to reach out to another being.” I fell silent.

Moon - from The Secret Portal Part One

“You’re right. But… tomorrow?” “Sure. It’s a—” Gwen stopped herself. “It’s a what?” “It’s a...n event. That I will mark. On my calendar. My mental calendar. In my head.” “Oh. Okay.” Akash took a deep breath. “I… just thought you were gonna say date.” Gwen felt her cheeks burn up. “Only if you want it to be.” “I would want that,” Akash said, smiling shyer than usual. “Cool.” Gwen wasn't sure if she was nervous or over the moon, but she looked around, trying to find a distraction. “Hey, look, is that Gills under that sheet?” “Yo, Gills!” Akash shouted. The person in the sheet turned. “Yes, it’s Gills.” He raised his voice again. “So lemme guess: you’re a ghost!” “No, I’m a high schooler in a sheet!” Gabriel replied. “Ah, that’s a unique costume!” “Says the person dressed as the most recognizable character in the world.” “Not this world!”

Worm - from The Secret Portal Part One

“Ooh!” Lexi gasped, pointing at a table with a bag of Skittles and cups. “Is that the Skittles game?” “Skittles game?” Robbie asked. Lexi smiled deviously. “It’s disgustingly fun.” “You use your mouth to put the Skittles in the cup,” said Parker. “Whoever has the most wins.” Robbie scrunched up his face but smiled. “Aw, that’s nasty. I love it.” “Gummy worm spit!” Maddie gasped. “Yes!” “You’re welcome,” said Tyler from the punch table. “Oh, by the way, in the center table there’s a jar of candy corn. Write down how many you think are in there. Whoever gets it closest gets the entire jar.” “Time to write down 5 million,” said Akash, floating over. “I hate candy corn.”