#featuring the extended family as a bonus

[mushyooms]

feasting in Sparta

[late-draft]

Very interesting that the first scene they share on the left is completely inverse of the last scene they share on the right, but they keep their positions on the screen.

Starts with him extending his arm with hostility on blue background, ends with her holding him for support on red background.

The best part is that neither scene is forced nor engineered from the other, and you might not even notice if you don't go to check.

Bonus:

I don't believe in tarot, but many things borrow ideas from it and it's interesting that (as far as I know) the original "Lovers" card design features 3 characters, a man leaving a woman from his family in order to be with his female love interest. But first he has to make that choice and pick the girl instead of family.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

The Nine Worlds series (Hands of the Emperor)

nothing less than the world by ariex09

At least there wasn’t an audience for the look Ludvic turned on Kip and the too neutral way he said, “Tor?”

Kip could feel himself flushing - in Astandalas this was the kind of thing that had lost him jobs before - but he had the excuse of, first of all, amnesia, and second of all, “He didn’t give me any other name!” Kip hissed. “He deflected me off the topic twice!”

-

AU where the landslide at the Liauu happens several years earlier, and the younger Kip has a rather different experience of the future.

diving for a flame pearl by ariex09

It took me an appalling three hours and thirteen minutes to even realize that Kip was gone.

Ah, but that was too charitable. Once we had a timeline together, we discovered that Franzel had seen Kip last, turning in for bed at twelve minutes before midnight, and it was not until Shoänie went to wake him at dawn that anyone knew he was anything but asleep in bed. This meant that by the time the knock on my study door came, shortly past the third hour of the morning, Kip could already have been missing for more than nine hours.

-

In which Cliopher goes missing midway through The Hands of the Emperor. Fortunately, he has friends and family willing to do whatever it takes to bring him home.

A nap at the feet of the sun by SunInGlory

Prompt: Cliopher somehow falls asleep on HR’s robe, and rather than wake him, HR has one of the guards cut that part of the robe off of him. Just looking for something soft and sweet here, but of course go in whichever direction you’d like. Bonus points if Petty Treasons era.

---

Cliopher decides to take a nap. Okay, perhaps decides is too strong of a word.

Stranger Things

Robin's Guide to the Care and Feeding of Your Newly Adopted Former Mean Girl by formosus_iniquis

She extends a hand, ignoring the laugh it gets her, “Welcome to Hawkins, I’m Robin, occasional Dustin babysitter.”

The girl’s smile pulls lopsided at her mouth, kissed with a bit of irony and undeniably charmed. “It’s nice to meet you Robin,” her voice is soft, and a little unsure. Wavering like Becky Simpson’s tone deaf oboe playing, unsure of what pitch and timbre to land on. “I’m Stephanie Henderson, Dustin’s cousin.”

The bit crumbles immediately between Robin’s fingers.

“Stephanie? You went with Stephanie? Are you kidding? We workshopped so many names!”

Marvel

Three Kinds of Learning by luchia

Erik intends to recruit Raven's supposedly amazing, all-powerful older brother. Instead, he finds himself dealing with Charles Xavier, a weak, tweed-addled professor who seems to think powers don't matter nearly as much as personality. Erik's misconceptions are blown apart when Raven goes missing.

SVSSS

In Durance Veil by Mikkeneko (+ podfic)

Right, the villain's beautiful daughter, who had caught a glimpse of the Protagonist from afar and, naturally, fell madly in love at first sight. She'd used her knowledge of her father's lair to sneak into the dungeon where Luo Binghe was being held and eventually proved the key to his escape, betraying her father for love. "So, you want to try to find some random girl who's willing to sneak in past the guards to Luo Binghe's prison and..."

"What random girl could we possibly trust? I'll do it myself!"

"You know what," Shang Qinghua said. "Somehow I feel like I should have expected this."

---

Shen Qingqiu self-detonated at Hua Yue City, but he didn't die. Instead, he wakes up to a world where Cang Qiong is victorious and Luo Binghe has been imprisoned beneath the mountain. What's a poor transmigrator to do? He has to find a way to free the Protagonist before he breaks out and razes the Sect to the ground! Clearly, the best way to do this is to pretend to be one of Luo Binghe's future wives.

Clearly.

Harry Potter

A Place That Fits by BitchesLoveAngstImBitches

Harry had been prepared to save Sirius’ life, no matter what the cost. Harry put himself in danger, and Sirius had come running, and it was the last thing he ever did.

And then it turned out Harry’s life wasn’t even worth saving: Neither can live while the other survives.

At the rate of Voldemort’s rising power, Harry would be lucky to survive the year.

Sirius had died trying to help Harry. He’d died for nothing.

-

Harry is struggling in the aftermath of the Ministry battle to come to terms with Sirius' death. His isolation and mistreatment at Privet Drive only make things worse. Remus Lupin checks on him in Surrey, but with both of them grieving, his assumptions about Harry might only hurt him more.

[peppermintquartz]

Mr Tommy Kinard,

So you want to show your house off to your boyfriend. You want to impress him. Make him think, this is the home I want to live in. "How do i go about it?" You ask.

Car lift and Muay Thai setup? Nah. These cannot be the main attractions. This is Evan Buckley you're talking about.

You have a garden that's slightly neglected? Wonderful! This is so that your Evan can get into his gardening era. Bonus: you both get to work shirtless hauling around heavy bags of earth. Sweat. Flushed skin. Thirst. Thank me after.

Bonus bonus: barbecue grill and extended patio for seating. He'll think about his family if you subtly mention how you like the idea of firing up the grill for a gathering. He's not going to leave without planning a date for a barbeque.

Bonus bonus bonus: Evan can be a holy terror taking on the HOA assholes who tell you, you gotta have a lawn instead of whatever tf you wanna grow, and he will maximize the use of your space for growing things. Katherine "with a K" Houston down at Number 29 will finally meet her match. I know, she is the absolute worst.

He likes to cook, right? Woo your boyfriend into moving in with that big kitchen with natural light in the mornings but is woefully underused. But still have enough that's not fully prepared or restored so he can put his mark on the space. Let him swap out appliances if needed. Do not let him keep a ring cutter in the kitchen - that should be with the first aid kit.

Seduce him with a stocked pantry. Seduce him in said pantry with an organized inventory, with color tabs and sorted by type.

Seduce him in the laundry room. Yes I know you need to organize it. That's what you have an efficiency-driven boyfriend for. I know, it's more than that, but make use of that feature anyway, ok?

Show him the bedroom. He'll seduce you, I shan't leave any notes. Have many spare changes of sheets.

Good luck!

[legobiwan]

Gravity Falls fic rec list...Part 2.

I should be grading writing right now, but in the spirit of procrastination, I'm going to instead post about my favorite new fics that have emerged in the post-Book of Bill era.

~~~~~~

Gen Fics

A Mariner’s Guide to the Unexplained by mariezies

Another fic that tackles the idea of Stan's criminal past coming back to haunt him as the elder Pines twins take to the sea. What I really like about this fic are Ford's inner monologues and in particular, the way he overthinks his interactions with his brother post-Weirdmaggedon due to the crushing level of guilt he feels. Bonus points for the incredibly adorable cat OC who joins the twins on the Stan o'War II. Incomplete.

We're Still Here by Simplistic_Apricity

What if Stan hadn't knocked Ford through the portal in 1982 and stuck around Gravity Falls instead? A bajillion fics have been written about this concept, but this one takes a slightly different approach as to the fallout from a Bill-possessed Ford attacking his brother as Ford slowly (slowly) comes to terms with what exactly he has wrought in that basement. The characterization and interactions of the twins and Fiddleford are incredibly grounded, avoiding melodrama while still being wildly effective. Incomplete. TWs for violence and medical trauma.

~~~~~~

Billford Fics

Not to sound like a 2013 hipster, but I do want to state that I hopped on this seafaring vessel pre-BoB and am delighted to witness the explosion of works exploring the demented, tortured relationship between these two absolute disasters. I've decided to let my cringe flag fly high and free here, with the caveat that I only indulge in triangle!Bill stories (accept no substitutions), as, let's face it, Ford is a freak (affectionate) and he loves his geometry.

Statement Abnegation by Anonymous

This one probably needs no introduction, but I'd be wholly remiss if I didn't include it on my list. A+ characterization of both Ford and Bill and it fucking nails the landing. Ford is taken prisoner during Weirdmaggedon, but this time Bill's playing for keeps. Complete. TWs for torture, death (temporary), Stockholm syndrome, and explicit sexual content.

apology tour by dolorous

There's something downright wistful about this story, which presents as "crack taken seriously" when Bill chooses Ford to be his keeper/chaperone as part of a Theraprism-mandated apology tour to those he has wronged post-BoB. Ford hates Bill. Ford sometimes doesn't hate Bill. Ford definitely hates Bill. And now they're stuck on the road trip from hell. Complete. Implied past (current/future?) relationship, no sexual content.

Then it becomes, it becomes, it becomes a problem by tempusedaxrerum

Takes place post-Betrayal but (so far) pre-Stanley arriving in Gravity Falls. Bill is determined to drag Ford into opening the Portal, kicking and screaming (limbs optional). Features an incredibly well-developed OC who is battling demons of her own when she has the misfortune of crossing paths with both Bill and Ford on a snowy evening in Oregon. Incomplete. TWs for violence, attempted sexual assault via possession, substance abuse.

Live, Laugh, Lather, Rinse, Repeat by ShibaIntuit

The conceit of this story is absolutely wild. Essentially, Ford eats a cursed piece of pizza and suffers from existential indigestion. The world-building once Ford is in the multiverse is delightful as an older Ford tries to renegotiate his past with a Bill Cipher of thirty years previous. Incomplete. TWs for violence.

as falls gravity so falls gravity falls by underwater_owl

A series of three stories that take a deep dive into Ford's subconscious while exploring the idea of the Axolotl placing Bill under Ford's mental power due to shenanigans you are better off reading about than me explaining here. Bait & Switch is the main narrative, which is a gen work featuring the whole extended Pines family plus Mabel and Dipper's mother, while Because & Despite and Cause & Effect explore the intense psychosexual relationship between Ford and Bill before and during the events of Bait & Switch. These last two stories really dig into the nature of Ford's deepest and darkest desires and the utterly twisted relationship between Ford and Bill. Incomplete. TWs for explicit sexual content (read the tags on those two last stories, folks! This author isn't, or is, I suppose, fucking around).

Snakes in the Garden by Miss_Ginger_Bread

Another Jimmy Snakes story! Because both Pines twins have terrible taste in men/demonic entities. A ghost from Stan's past shows up in Norway, prompting Ford to take matters into his own hands. Lovely interactions between the Pines twins, including a murderous, protective Ford and a Ford who is harboring a gigantic, triangle-shaped secret from his brother. Incomplete. TWs for abusive relationships.

[lovelettersforthedamned]

baby making with peter? either they already have a little one or it’s their first time tryin + bonus if it’s around the holidays :)

3+1

--genre + trope: SMUT, fluff, nsfw.

--pairing: dad!tasm!peter parker x mom!reader

--word count: 1.2k

--warnings: kissing, oral (f receiving), very fluffy sex, unprotected sex (DONT), creampie, multiple orgasms, fluff at the end.

--gif credits: @bethanyesda

The wind carried the snow throughout the city, a constant chill whipping past those that are traveling through the city. The beginning of December remained ruthless, but the multicolored lights coming from the apartments across the street warmed you. Inside your apartment, you and Peter have been unable to detach from each other’s touch all night. You two have been talking about adding another member to the family, the thought dancing through your mind for the past few days. Peter was actually the one to bring it up earlier this morning, catching you off guard. You told him you were okay to start trying, but you didn’t know you would start tonight. 

Your daughter, Junie, was at your family friend’s house, decorating cookies with their kids, and probably eating all of them in the process. She doesn’t know about your plans to give her a sibling, but of course, you asked her what she thought. As soon as you asked, her face lit up, and right from that moment, you knew that you needed another little one. 

The warm lighting accentuated Peter’s features as you two were entangled on the couch, your lips dancing around each other until you had to pull away for air. Peter asks as he looks into your eyes, “Are we going to do this…right now?”

You draw your attention to his face, searching for any signs of regret, “Yeah, I want to, but if you don’t then we don’t–.” Peter cuts you off with another deep kiss, the reconnection of your lips making your chest flutter. 

Smiling into your lips, he mumbles, “Let’s do this baby.” 

He climbs off of you, standing, as he extends a hand towards you. Grabbing it, he pulls you off the couch and leads you to your shared room. There’s a pep in his step, his eagerness never fails to amuse you. Reaching your room, you immediately pull him back into your embrace, enveloping him in another earth-shattering kiss. He swore his knees almost buckled. 

Still kissing him, you blindly lead him to bed, not daring to pull away. One thing about Peter is that his hands love to travel and explore your figure, and tonight was no exception. He knew all of your soft spots to memory, his delicate touch tracing the sides of your neck, leading down to the high point of your collar bone, and eventually making his way down to cusp the supple flesh of your breast. The soft squeeze was enough to elicit a delicate moan.

You wanted more, grabbing the back of Peter’s hand, and guiding him to the hem of your shirt. He’s caught on to your desperation, grasping the fabric and pulling it off of you. Revealing that you chose not to wear a bra today. It’s only then that Peter pulls his lips away from yours, leaning back to admire the view in front of him, “Fuck baby…you’re perfect. Y’know that, right?” His eyes raised to look back at your expression, a playful glimmer flickering on his face. 

You lean back onto your arms, making your breasts the main focus, and you respond, “I’m not sure Petey, maybe you could tell me, or even better, you could show me.” 

Peter’s stunned by your teasing, a sudden burst of confidence, making him dizzy. A giggle erupts from your chest as he climbs on top of you. Peter starts to litter kisses upon the valley between your breasts as he works to undo your jeans, quickly undoing the button and ripping them off, pulling your panties along with them. 

As soon as you’re undressed, Peter quickly follows, stripping himself until his beautifully toned body is in front of you. Peter knows what he wants, and there is nothing stopping him from devouring your, now-dripping, core. He sinks to his knees and pushes your thighs apart, the cold air touching your aching clit, making you hiss. 

With dilated pupils, Peter immediately attaches his mouth to you. He groans into your entrance, your taste wrapping around his tongue. Your hands find their way to his hair, the brown strands weaving through your fingers as you tug. Peter notices how much you love this, and it only adds to his pleasure. He loves worshiping your body. He still marvels at the fact that you’re able to create life. He honestly gets a little emotional thinking about it, but that’s for another time. Right now, all he wants you to do is cum in his mouth. 

He knows you're close when your toes curl and your clit starts to contract under his lips. Only a few seconds pass when his suspicions are confirmed to be true. He feels you cum onto his tongue, another groan escapes him as he’s surrounded by the taste of you. As you start to come down from your high, your fingers untangle from Peter’s hair and make their way to his hands. You’re panting as he asks, “You feeling okay, bug?”

“Baby,” you look down, “if you don’t fuck me right now, I think I might die.”

He crawls up to you, greeting you with a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, “Alright, alright, be patient my love.”

“Please, please, please,” the world cascading off your lips like a mantra is quickly resolved as Peter enters you, bottoming out. A collective moan echoes through the room and ricochets off the walls. 

Not breaking eye contact, you hold his face, taking a mental picture of him in this state. Peter’s pace has been lovingly slow, but you didn’t mind. Both of you realized that this moment is sacred. There’s no rush, no panic, but there is the overwhelming weight of tenderness pushing on your heart. Pulling Peter close, you nestle your head in his shoulder, occasionally giving him small kisses on his neck. 

In this new position, you’re able to hear each pant, grunt, and moan perfectly. Combine that with the stimulation each thrust gave your clit, and you were right on the edge, once again. “Peter, baby, you whisper, “I’m right there…I’m gonna cum.”

A louder moan leaves Peter as he feels your walls clench around him, “Cum for me, cum for me (Y/N).” 

Cumming on his cock sent shockwaves throughout your body, causing your legs to shake beside him. It wasn’t long before you could feel a sudden pressure inside you, Peter coating your walls with his cum. He gives you one last thrust, making sure he got every last bit inside you. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you murmur, “I love you…so much, Peter.”

Peter’s arms nestle under your back, pulling you impossibly closer, “I love you too, (Y/N).”

~

After you’ve both cleaned up and settled back onto the couch, you breathe in deeply, soaking in this time with Peter. The lights outside your window twinkled and shone through the evening sky, and an indescribable cheer lingered in the air. “I can’t wait to tell Junie,” Peter says.

You smile, and the thought of making her a big sister brings tears to your eyes, “It’ll be quite the Christmas for her, huh?”

Peter presses a kiss to your temple, softly sweeping the hair that fell into your face behind your ear. And as if right on cue, a knock on your door startles you, signifying that your little baby Junie is back.  

--author's note: PETER PARKER, THE MAN YOU ARE!!! no but seriously holy shit i love him. this request and the other request for dad!peter is my weakness, actually. thank you for requesting!! mwah mwah mwah...support your writers by liking, commenting, and reblogging!!! my inbox is open, even past the 100 follower bash fyi! keep sending me ideas, i love them so much. everyone's brains are so delicious and smart. ok, ily bye<333

[joezy27]

Hawkeye - The Complete 1st Season coming on 4K UHD

Marvel Studios' Hawkeye is an original series set in post-blip New York City where former Avenger Clint Barton/Hawkeye (Jeremy Renner) has a seemingly simple mission: get back to his family for Christmas. But when a threat from his past shows up, Hawkeye reluctantly teams up with Kate Bishop (Hailee Steinfeld), a 22-year-old skilled archer and his biggest fan, to unravel a criminal conspiracy.

Bonus Features

- A Tale of Two Hawkeyes - Discover how the cast and crew extended the Hawkeye legacy, bringing together Clint Barton and new character Kate Bishop.

- Gag Reel - Take a look at some of the hilarious outtakes on set with the cast and crew of Hawkeye.

- Assembled: The Making of Hawkeye - Peer behind the scenes of the show with Jeremy Renner, Hailee Steinfeld, and the rest of the cast and crew.

Deleted Scenes

Follow the Trail: Young Kate leaves behind clues for a scavenger hunt.

At The Stake: Clint reluctantly celebrates with a group of fans in the city.

Burning of the Suit: Clint burns the Ronin suit.

Kate’s First Day at Work: Kate uses her awkward first day at work to her advantage.

Ice Cream: Little Maya finds out her dad can't pick her up from -practice.

Detour: Clint and Kate find an unmarked car in front of her apartment.

Friends?: Little Maya and Little Kazi meet for the first time when their fathers do business together.

You Never Miss: Clint's relationship with his mom is revealed through childhood memories. Clint and his mom attempt to rob a convenience store, which ends up a disaster.

Moira Comes Home: Moira chases Clint and Kate out of her apartment.

Old Friend: Clint prepares a familiar weapon.

Sorry: Maya and Clint have a moment of understanding after a battle.

Until It’s Done: Eleanor takes a trip to have dinner. A shocking insight is revealed.

Boomerang: Clint and Kate gather supplies at a sporting goods store to build trick arrows.

SteelBook artwork by Attila Szarka

- Release date: December 3, 2024

[duckprintspress]

Pre-Orders Now Open for “Many Drops Make a Stream” by Adrian Harley!

Pre-orders for Adrian Harley’s debut sapphic fantasy novel Many Drops Make a Stream are now open!

A memory-stealing cult. The ever-watchful City of Eyes. Making small talk. Join Droplet as she faces all these horrors and more…

Vigilante shapeshifter Droplet has trained her entire life to take down those with more power than scruples, but she still makes mistakes. When a rescue mission goes wrong, a memory-stealing cult of blood mages escapes with kidnapped captives in tow. To save them, Droplet reluctantly teams up with the outgoing, tenacious Azera. Droplet knows better than to trust a human—she made that mistake once, and that person’s betrayal scattered her community across the known world—and she can tell Azera is hiding secrets behind her sunny smile. But if they can’t learn to work together, even Droplet’s own memories could be lost.

Many Drops Make a Stream, Adrian Harley’s debut novel, is the stand-alone first book in a series of related fantasy-mystery-heists featuring the shapeshifter Droplet and the friends and found family who work alongside her to fight the corrupt powers-that-be. Many Drops Make a Stream is rated general (adult) audiences and features shapeshifting shenanigans, a nascent f/f quarrelers-to-lovers pre-relationship, a wonderful extended cast of family and pseudo-family, necromancy and blood magic and spellwork (oh my!), and one (1) very angry goose.

For this campaign, we’re offering:

Many Drops Make a Stream e-book (ePub and PDF formats)

Many Drops Make a Stream digest-sized trade paperback book (bonus: every single print book comes with a bookplate signed by Adrian Harley!)

Droplet!Dux Die-Cut Sticker

Many Drops Make a Stream Cover Art Print

Shapeshifting Droplet Enamel Pin

Patron-exclusive extra wooden coaster (for people who support Duck Prints Press at the $10/month and $25/month level on Patreon and back this campaign)

Better yet, you can get a discount by picking one of three bundles:

Many Drops Make a Stream E-Book + Merchandise

Many Drops Make a Stream E-Book + Print Book

Many Drops Make a Stream E-Book + Print Book + Merchandise

You can learn all about the book, the author, the campaign, and our offerings by visiting the pre-order page NOW!

Want a chance to win a trade paperback copy of Many Drops Make a Stream? Help us spread the word about this campaign by liking and signal boosting our posts on any of our platforms that including “sharing” functionality (such as Tumblr, Mastodon, Bluesky, and Facebook), and you can get up to 4 entries per platform where you share!*

Campaign backers will also get bonuses based on the number of signal boosts our posts receive! All the social media links for sharing are on the linked pre-order page, so help us tell the world about the awesome book, and who knows – you might win a copy! (But only if we fund, ’cause we can’t afford to print the book if we don’t fund, so help us make sure people who want to buy The Awesome learn that The Awesome exists!)

*sweepstakes rules and conditions

[bangtansmauyeondan]

HALLI GALLI KING (KSJ | Moonstruck Bonus Chapter)

Pairing: Seokjin x Fem. Reader (Married Couple)

Warnings: SMUT!!!! (Don't let the cute banner fool you!), Toddler Talk, Food Talk, Mature Languages, Explicit/Suggestive, Mirror seggs

Genre: Mature, Fluff, Minor Angst

WC: 3.9k

This is a bonus chapter of the Moonstruck series, but can be read alone. However, I highly suggest you read the whole series if you want to meet the most comforting Seokjin character (thank you for saying this, @ahundredtimesover); and if you want to feel all warm and fuzzy from the relationship between them and their extensive and chaotic friend group.

NOT PROOFREAD, SO DON'T COME AT ME.

•••

Seokjin was jolted awake with a grunt by the energetic antics of his two-year-old daughter. With a diaper-cushioned bottom, Lily landed squarely on his stomach, accompanied by the joyful sound of her squeal resonating throughout the room.

“Daddy, wet’s go!” Lily crawled on top of him as her little fingers attempted to reach for his face. 

Cracking open his eyelids, he was greeted by the sight of mini pigtails and chubby cheeks right in front of his still-blurry vision. Two little fingers were on a mission, attempting to sneak into his mouth. Before he could fully grasp the situation, a hint of your light perfume tickled his nose as you leaned in to rescue him from the toddler takeover.

“Say ‘good morning, daddy’ and give him a kiss, bubs.” Your melodious voice came through, enough to make him internally smile. 

“Goo mowing daddy.” A tiny voice followed before a wet sloppy smooch landed on his left cheek.

“Good morning, baby,” He smothered her chubby cheeks with kisses, triggering a chorus of delightful screams. With a playful gesture, he signaled for you to join the cuddle party, arms wide open for a little morning family cuddle. 

“I don’t know what you want to have for breakfast but I cut up some fruits and I’m thawing out the waffles.”

“Don’t worry about me, honey,” he mumbled before planting a kiss on your nose. “Are we going somewhere? Why is she dressed up this early?”

“Daddy, wet’s go!” Lily piped up again, seemingly understanding what his dad just said. 

“Where are we going, bubs?”

Instead of answering him, Lily crawled off the bed and waddled towards a pile of plushies on the other side of the room, picking up a well-loved bunny stuffed toy given to her by Jungkook when she was still a baby. “Tokki!” Lily squealed before running and failing to climb back up on the bed. “Untew Kookie, Tokki and Lily bunny!” She tattled excitedly, using the nickname Jungkook has given her while pointing to herself, fully expecting her confused father to understand. 

“JK is dropping her off at daycare and picking her up,” you started explaining. “He hasn’t seen her in a while and wanted to take her to the zoo after.”

“She’s your daughter, Seokjin. She has your height,” you rolled your eyes at him. “If she’s not, my brother will figure it out.” 

“Is she tall enough for the zoo?” Seokjin asked, confusion etched on his face.

Seokjin got up from the bed and scooped his daughter up, extending his other hand for you to take. “Let’s start the day already, yeah? We want to make sure you and Uncle Kookie are both well fed before you leave.” 

You smiled to yourself as you followed your husband out of the bedroom.

Three years into the marriage, you found yourselves in the groove of family life, with a pint-sized sidekick stealing the spotlight. Mornings evolved into a tag-team spectacle, featuring breakfast skirmishes and a toddler tornado leaving a trail of toy mayhem. In the middle of it all, Seokjin somehow managed to squeeze in his pre-work routine, a feat you marveled at. Lucky for you, the work flexibility of an entrepreneur worked in your favor, after starting your own Home Fragrance business. The evenings however, were a comedy show, featuring attempts at gourmet-dinners-for-toddler prepared by your husband, that usually ended in hilarious situations. From the routine of bedtime stories and lullabies, you realized that your love story had expanded to include a tiny co-author. The house reverberated with laughter, baby babble, and admittedly finding moments for each other became a tad challenging. That’s why you tried hard to cherish every minute of cuddling before both of you drifted into a deep slumber at night.

Seokjin reveled in the luxurious embrace of deep slumber the night before, relishing the fact that today was Wednesday. Unlike other days, Wednesday granted him the rare reprieve from the bustling restaurant scene, allowing him to bypass the early morning alarm ritual. However, this particular Wednesday marked a first – his daughter wouldn't be at home for a good few hours. Since the beginning of the week, she had started attending daycare.

With your pint-sized ball of energy safely picked up by Jungkook and taken to daycare, you found yourselves in an uncharted territory – a quiet, toddler-free home on a random morning. The sudden absence of toy-induced chaos left the air surprisingly serene. Rather than basking in the newfound peace, boredom set in faster than you could say "peek-a-boo." 

Glancing at each other, you exchanged grins and embarked on a mission to reclaim the living room from the toy minefield. Seokjin groaned like an old man as he picked up the last piece of toy off the living room carpet before chucking it in the basket - a small Princess Peach figure that may not be appropriate for a two year-old at the moment. “That’s the last of it!” 

Without the usual background sound of tiny giggles and babbles, the house felt oddly still. Determined to make the most of your mini hiatus, Seokjin turned the music up and launched into an impromptu dance party, pulling you along and busting out with some questionable dance moves.

Your face started hurting from so much laughter, feeling more like the past versions of yourselves again– Seokjin and YN, young, carefree, and in love. Always been in love. 

You both fell on the couch, entangled with each other in an embrace and almost out of breath from your mean dance moves and endless laughter. 

“What are we doing next?” You asked, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath. “Jenga?” 

“Yah… Do you want Lily to choke on those?” 

“Okay, no. Scratch that…” 

“Halli Galli,” Seokjin grinned before catching the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“We can’t play a drinking game!” 

Seokjin shifted and lied down on the couch, bringing you along, making you land on top of him. “I didn't  mean Halli Galli…” He dropped his voice a few octaves lower in a suggestive manner, while skillful hands started slowly kneading your ass, “I meant Halli Galli.”

You gasped, lightly slapping your husband’s chest at the suggestion. “In broad daylight?”

Seokjin’s hands traveled up underneath your shirt, skimming along the skin of your lower back. “We have four hours.”   

•••

Grabbing the vibrant bell and scattering the deck of fruity cards with a mischievous grin, Seokjin geared up for an unusual round of Halli Galli that you "invented" as a couple. With a sly wink and a confident smirk, he slumped down on the carpeted floor, right in front of you, and set the stage for a duel of lightning-quick reflexes, where every ring of the bell meant a sweet taste of victory for one and a piece of clothing less for the other. 

“You think you’re so smart,” you squinted at your husband who obviously has the advantage, as the undefeated king of Halli Galli in your friend group. 

“I’m playing fair and square, honey,” he smirked while giving you a once over. “You’re the one who’s not.” 

“What do you mean?” You quirked an eyebrow at him. 

“I’m still in my pajamas. You have more clothes on than I do.” 

“Whatever, Seokjin…” 

“Yeah, right. Whatever,” he snickered. “I’m gonna get you naked in under ten minutes,” he rubbed his palms excitedly while letting out a squeal that’s meant to push your buttons.   

“Okay, wait, wait…” You clasped your hands around his and made him look you in the eye. “Let’s take this up a notch then.”

“Ooooh…” Seokjin’s eyes shimmered in amusement. “I love how competitive you are.”

“No staring and no touching until all the cards are cleared out.” Your smile widened when you felt your husband swallow thickly. “You get turned on, you lose. Got it?” 

“Deal.” 

With a collective deep breath and teasing looks, the one on one game officially commenced. Seokjin drew the first card and the race to spot a matching set of 5 began, fingers hovering anxiously over the cards.

3 bananas

2 plums

1 lime

2 bananas

1 strawberry

4 strawberries

DING!!! 

Seokjin’s infectious laughter rang out, infused with a teasing tone, completely in contrast with a groan you let out for missing the bell. “Take it off! Take it off!” He chanted while repeatedly hitting the bell. 

You made a show of slowly lifting up your shirt and discarding it over your head, exposing a flattering lacy piece of black strapless material that perfectly hugged your breasts. “Like what you see?”  

“Not looking!” Seokjin quickly denied it, but the deep shade of pink adorning the tips of his ears said otherwise. Oh, your poor ‘boobs man’ husband. 

You started the second round. 

2 limes

3 strawberries

1 banana

3 plums

2 strawberries

2 bananas

5 plums

DING!!!

“Nooooooo!!!!!” You whined in frustration when Seokjin beat you to the bell again. “Why did I agree to this? I will never win against you.” 

“Because you enjoy giving me a strip tease.” Seokjin snorted. 

“Or you enjoy seeing me strip, that’s why you always suggest this!” 

“What are–” 

Seokjin’s words got caught up in his throat when you wiggled your way out of your jeans, revealing a lacy pair of panties that matched your bra, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. He sure has seen you in all your glory through the years of your marriage, but the soft natural light streaming in from the window had this way of making your skin glow, giving you a subtle, effortless radiance. He was momentarily out of it and so he didn’t notice when you came closer to plant a sweet kiss on his lips.

“You're drooling.” You took advantage of your husband's dazed state and drew a new card. 

2 strawberries

1 lime

3 plums

4 bananas

1 banana

DING!!!

You screamed in excitement when you got the bell first before Seokjin did. “I got you!” You quickly skipped over the deck of cards to your husband, fiddling with the first button of his blue pajama top, “Strip, strip, strip, strip!” 

“Yah, what are you doing?” Seokjin burst out laughing at your eagerness, the excitement from winning against him too obvious. “Are you taking my clothes off for me?”

“Can I?” You gave him the puppy eyes that work on him all the damn time.

“Absolutely not,” he said sternly, making you pout. “Sit your pretty ass back down, love.” You scoffed before making a show of slowly crawling back to the other side of the cards in all fours, showing off your ass at him. Seokjin felt his cock twitch. “Fucking hell, YN,” he muttered under his breath, earning a giggle from you. “You know I’m gonna get you topless on the next round, right?” 

Your snarky remark didn’t make it out of your lips when you turned to look at Seokjin who’s already removed his pajama top, leaving him in a white low-neck sleeveless undershirt. His broad chest commanded attention, like a sculpted landscape that exuded strength. Of all the things you love about your husband, funny how a simple show of muscles beneath taut skin seemed to drive you absolutely insane that you had to press your thighs together, already feeling the wetness pool between your legs. As his shirt dipped down, revealing a teasing glimpse of his exposed clavicle, your eyes zeroed in on a small beauty mark just below his left collarbone.   

Seokjin noticed your subtle movement, feeling his mouth turn paper-dry. He has been internally battling against himself since the first round and there’s nothing he wanted more than to fuck you stupid on the floor right at that moment. But he knew all this teasing would be well worth it in the end. “Well…?” 

“And if I get you topless on the next round?” You challenged, tilting your head at him.

Holding your gaze, Seokjin drew a card. 

3 bananas

1 plum

2 limes

1 banana

5 strawberries 

DING!!! 

“Yeah!!!!” Ding! Ding! Ding! Ding-ding-ding-dingggg! Seokjin hit the bell repeatedly in victory before standing up, closing his eyes, and throwing his hands up in the air, imagining a roar of applause in his head like an athlete who just scored a life-changing goal. 

“You look like you just scored a goal,” you stood up, crossing your arms, feigning annoyance. 

“The goal is to get you naked, you know,” he winked, throwing two finger guns your way. It’s so Seokjin of him and you couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes and let out a laugh. 

“Is that so?” You sauntered towards your husband, letting a mischievous grin dance on your lips. The air was charged with a sultry energy as you approached, and you couldn't resist a subtle hip sway that turned the simple act of walking into teasing. 

You could see the curiosity spark in his eyes, and as you reached him, you couldn't resist playfully twirling a loose strand of hair around your finger and a quick lip bite, before running the same finger along his clavicle, down the length of his torso. Seokjin’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, making it obvious that your subtle movement already had an effect on him. The corner of your lips turned up into a knowing smile when your eyes landed on a very prominent outline on his pajama bottoms.  

You’re no better. Had Seokjin not been distracted by this little teasing show you’re trying to pull off, it would be difficult for you to hide the arousal that was soaking through your panties. You were gushing, and aching, desperate for his touch and you don’t know how long you could keep all this act up. 

You slowly pushed him back on the couch and he landed with a soft bounce as soon as the back of his knees hit the edge of the cushion. 

“You said no touching?”

“I changed my mind,” you gasped the moment the words slipped out of your mouth, not expecting to be pulled down by the waist, knees landing on either side of Seokjin’s hips. 

Seokjin tugged on your hips and helped you properly straddle him, immediately feeling the dampness of your core against his growing erection. “Shit, you’re already wet and we haven’t even done anything yet.” He wrapped one arm around you tighter and used his free hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Have I been neglecting you?” His voice came out strained in an airy whisper, worry and guilt pooling his eyes. He let his eyes roam freely on your beautiful face. Your silence screamed volumes, telling him everything he needed to know.

“Fuck,” he raked his fingers from the side of your nape up through your hair, giving it a light tug and exposing your neck. “I have,” the sensation of his warm breath hitting your sensitive skin sent goosebumps down your spine. Your eyes automatically shut and your jaw fell open when your husband started leaving wet trails of kisses up your neck, nipping on your sweet spot just behind the ear. “I’m sorry, baby,” he licked a long stripe up your throat, “I have no excuse,” and captured your mouth in a mind-numbing kiss, tongue expertly swirling, exploring and eliciting moans from you.  

You broke the kiss after what seemed like forever to catch your breath, only to plant your knees firmly on the couch and aggressively tug on Seokjin’s tanktop. “Take this off,” you demanded. Seokjin obliged and discarded his tanktop, throwing it haphazardly on the floor before letting his head fall back on the headrest of the couch, staring up at you— lips swollen, cheeks flushed, and hair disheveled. 

You ran your tongue across your lips before dipping your head down and attacking his neck with soft kisses, paying attention to the little beauty mark on his collarbone. You continued nipping at his soft skin, while your other hand made its way up to his ear, lightly rubbing his earlobe between your fingertips, making him close his eyes and groan in pleasure. “I told you I’m the one getting you topless on the next round,” you whispered followed by a flirty giggle. 

“Cheater,” Seokjin chuckled, eyes still closed. “You’re using my weakness against me.”

“Damn right, I am,” you bit back, slowly grinding your hips to feel his painfully hard manhood. “Mmm… you’re so hard right now, baby.” You gasped when you felt your bra loosen away from your body, almost missing the way Seokjin had swiftly unclasped it and threw it out of your sight with one hand. 

“Now, we’re even,” he sat up and quickly gathered your hands behind your back, holding them down with one hand while the other started fondling your right boob. “God, I love these tits so much,” he captured the other one in his mouth, tonguing your nipple while mimicking the movement with his thumb on the other one. 

You arched your back, writhed and moaned in pleasure, almost positive that you’re gushing through your panties and soaking through your husband’s pajama bottoms as well, “Fuck, Jinnie…” Your pussy clenched at nothing, desperate to be touched. “Baby, touch me, please.” 

“Shhh…” Seokjin splayed his hands on your back pulling you closer again, while peppering your chest and neck with kisses. “I’ll take care of you, hmn? I got you…” Pushing your panties to the side, he ran his middle finger along your sopping slit. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby…” He went in with two fingers, slowly pumping them in and out of you while putting pressure on your clit with his thumb. 

You whimpered in pleasure as your husband curled his fingers repeatedly, reaching that soft spongy spot that made your knees weak. “Jin, baby, I need you inside me,” you cried out, hands reaching out to tug on Seokjin’s arms. 

Without a word, Seokjin slipped his fingers out of you and stood up from the couch, aiding you in the process. He stepped out of his pajamas and pre-cum-stained boxers and helped you in removing your panties as well. 

You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him back for a hot searing kiss, in anticipation of being fucked stupid on the couch, only to be caught by surprise when Seokjin turned you around and pushed you against the porcelain console table, meeting your reflection against the huge wall mirror head on. 

Seokjin tugged on your hips, bending you over and before you realized what’s happening, he’s already thrusting into you with a deep groan, pushing you forward on the console table, making the decorative trinkets and scented candles rattle by the force. 

Your legs shook trying to take in the pain and the pleasure of being stretched out combined as Seokjin relentlessly fucked you; the glorious sounds slipping out of his mouth as he took you from behind making your head spin. You whimpered as your head hung low, your hands clasping and unclasping against nothing as you tried to ground yourself. You’re a moaning and whining mess. Your skin covered with a sheen of sweat, your hair disheveled, and your skin blotchy with blooming purple marks from your husband’s earlier assault. You felt him gently grab your jaw and directed you to look in the mirror. 

“Eyes on me,” he whispered against your ear. Seokjin’s thick eyebrows were furrowed, his skin also glistened with sweat, and his ears and neck were flushed red. You both stared at each other in the mirror, letting the sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans and groans of pleasure speak for yourselves for a good few seconds.  

“I’m close, baby…” you whined, feeling the tightness on your lower belly. 

“Yeah?” Seokjin snaked one arm around you, propping you up while fondling your breasts, and brought his free hand between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit. “Do you like that, baby? Does it feel good?” Seokjin asked, intently watching you fall apart in his arms. Your head fell back on his shoulder as you moaned out your answer and he took the sweet opportunity to nip at your shoulder.

“Fuck, Seokjiiiinnn…” 

Your beautiful sound turned him on even more, and his pace became more sloppy and erratic, a telltale sign that he’s also close to cumming.

“That’s it, baby,” Seokjin whispered in your ear. “I love you so much. You’re doing so good.” 

Tears started prickling your eyes, an unbidden response to the overwhelming surge of emotion that gripped you in that moment. A sudden jolt of pleasure snapped the tightening knot you felt on your lower belly free, and Seokjin fucked you through waves of euphoric bliss, until he’s stilling his hips and painting your walls white with his own release. 

It took him a good few seconds before pulling out of you and catching his breath, but the first thing he did was take you in his arms and capture your lips into a sweet kiss. “I love you,” he rested his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around.” 

“But you are around…” you reached up and ran your thumb against his cheek. 

“I should have paid more attention to you,” he pouted. 

“It’s okay, as long as Lily’s the only other girl hogging all your attention.” 

“Of course!” Seokjin dipped his head and started kissing down your neck, “...unless you give me another daughter, you know.” 

You yelped in surprise when your husband picked you up bridal-style and made his way up to your bedroom. 

“Seokjin!”

“I’m not done with you yet.”

•••

“We’re home!” Jungkook’s booming voice echoed around the house a mere thirty minutes after Seokjin finished cleaning up in the living room, and you went on to start preparing for lunch. “Stay right here, Lily bunny,” he sat your daughter down on the carpeted floor and took a bulky interactive felt book out of her little backpack. “What did we learn in school?”

“Foots!” She proudly smiled up at her uncle while pointing at felt cutouts of fruits with googly eyes from her book. 

“Good job, bunbun!” Jungkook softly pinched his niece’s little nose, which made the little one sneeze. 

You rounded the corner from the kitchen at the same time that Seokjin made his way downstairs with a change of clothes for your daughter.

“Stay for lunch; I’m making suyuk.” You know your younger brother won’t be able to say no to pork belly. 

“Taehyung also brought some pa kimchi from Mom the other day. It would be so good with suyuk.” Seokjin added. 

“Oh damn, yeah. That would be delicious.” Jungkook nodded. “By the way, Yoongi hyung called and–” 

“Bananas! Bananas!” Lily squealed excitedly, holding up a single Halli Galli card that Seokjin missed while cleaning up. 

“Yah…” Jungkook took the card from Lily and paused for a moment, cogwheels turning in his head. Seokjin pressed his lips together trying hard not to burst out laughing. You, on the other hand, looked mortified, silently praying for the ground to crack open and swallow you up whole. “Did you two play Halli Galli while I took Lily out?” 

Silence. 

Jungkook groaned. “You filthy animals!”

Seokjin gave in and launched into his infectious squeaky laugh, tagging you and your brother along.

The sexy Halli Galli game may have reached its boisterous and delightful climax for the day, but the love and intimacy exchanged between you and Seokjin would forever linger in your shared little home.

•••

SERIES TAGLIST:  @bts-reveries @tan-dulset @persphonesorchid  @joonjoonsmiles @jayhope88 @thatbangtanjagiya @anaceciliaxr @justinetingball @halesandy @yoongleskitten @onemanbandarmi @juju-227592 @ephyra1230 @somelazysundays @ygbubs @timelessruins @teamtardis-notdead @sugakookies0613 @pinkseokchim @taestefully-in-luv

PERMANENT TAGLIST: @snoozeagustd @persphonesorchid @thatbangtanjagiya @taestefully-in-luv @pamzn @wrmnssoul @ygbubs @halesandy @jayhope88 @bnagtanx1306 @busanbby-jjk @babycandy111

[jealousmartini]

3RD MHA DR INTRODUCTION

**this is more season 1-3 hanabi btw**

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

Category is: Hanabi K. Banks

Age: 17 ½

Height: 5"6

Backstory: Hanabi doesn't have a dramatic life. She was born and raised in a nice area in London by a food loving family. Her mother owns a very well-known bakery, which she and her family live upstairs from, and the father is a 4.5 star chef who owns his restaurant. And even though food basically runs in their blood, her parents are very open-minded about what her future could turn out to be if it isn't something food based (although that doesn't mean they won't teach her how to cook). Ever since Hanabi manifested her quirk at the ripe age of 2 with her eyes closed, her parents were both aware of how her quirk's potential could easily steer her into the direction of training to become a hero.

Quirk: Holy restoration

Mutant type. Hanabi has a halo around her head as well as around the wrists of her hands, the ankles of her feet and one above her head at all times. She also had a small pair of head wings made of nothing but fluffy feathers.

Her main ability is healing herself or a person from physical and mental pain by pressing my hands over theirs together in a prayer "🙏🏾". This will form a halo over the persons head as a sign they are healing;

A couple others...

○ during this process, procedures in the oddly pretty appearance of glowing yellow outlines will start to take place over the injury like a needle and thread stitching up a wound for example but the procedures are harmless, maybe ticklish but harmless. Once most of the healing is done, a small glowing yellow outline of a bandage or a plaster will remain over the injury and will disappear once it is fully healed.

○ She can heaten up her body temperature using the halos healing energy. Anyone who is in contact with her will warm up too.

○ She can control how bright or dim the halo is (kinda lame but it's wtv)

○ She can reposition her head halo at any angle

《 BONUS! 》 She can also detach the hoops from her body to use in for combat! She can control them like frisbees or bomberangs, hitting people or things like targets.

Sibling quirk: Feather weight

Mutant type. Hanabi's head wings are made of nothing but light fluffy feathers that sometimes have a mind of their own. The weightlessness of the wings can be activated (triggered) to affect the entirety of her body, when her brain goes into fight or flight mode.

Way past your bedtime!: Is the name of Hanabi's podcast/live stream; it started as a small YouTube channel that she made with the soul purpose of using it as a safe place to rant her mind out, past the average sleepers bedtime (around after 9:30pm). She didn't really care for getting views, she just wanted to have a place to store her thoughts when she couldnt sleep or had a long day. Turns out her videos would appear on random people's algorithm over time and because they really liked the authenticity and rawness of her personality as well as the conversations she would have with her camera, her following would grow from 10 followers to 40, then 40 to 88, then 98 to 223 and then would grow up to 92K followers and counting. Her viewer ship would extend globally, reaching Japan and America the most

As months and years passed, Hanabi would start to refine her content. She'd start to vlog what the day in a life of a highschool teen is like, her videos would sometimes feature her close friends and family every now and then, she would include her three bunnies and the family dog as guests, she'd decorated her set up (her bedroom) more, she would also make delicious meals while yapping about broader subjects that her audience would like to see her talk about like a mukbang but without the ASMR; and her highest recommended topic this week, was what she thought about becoming a hero.

∘₊ ✧───────────────────✧₊∘

quick note💌! : the hero education systems are set in colleges. Only students from ages 16 and up can get in to hero schools such as UA and etc. — 🍊💭

More art n stuff coming guys

@cocozydiaries @livingmydreamlife5555 @4ellieluv

[silverstellatus]

Realized I haven't drawn The Siblings all together since... middle school? Middle school. Anyway Behold Them.

Bonus flat color version and me babbling nonsense about designs below

Ok I had a lot of fun designing all three of these fellas together... I don't have any decent pics of their designs, but I tried to include a lot of elements of Squirrelflight, Leafpool, and Crowfeather's designs in them. I'm going to list some of the features of family relatives that I included for each character because I just think it's fun.

Lionblaze:

Main fur color is from Leafpool's orange spots, and darker orange and brown markings are the same color as Squirrelflight

Classic tabby markings are from Sandstorm and Leafpool

Eyes color (green/yellow) is from Sandstorm

Eye markings are same as Sandstorm, similar to Leafpool (but do not extend to bottom of face)

Same tail pattern as Squirrelflight

Angry eyebrows from Crowfeather (matching Jayfeather)

Cheek fur shape from Crowfeather

Neck fluff from Squirrelflight

Ear shape from Leafpool

Jayfeather:

Eye color from Crowfeather

Similar fur color to Crowfeather (Jayfeather has slightly lighter fur)

Ear shape from Sandstorm

Classic tabby markings from Sandstorm and Leafpool

Body markings from Crowfeather

Heart shaped chest pattern from Leafpool and Firestar

Face markings from Leafpool

Neck band from Leafpool and Sandstorm

Angry eyebrows from Crowfeather (matching Lionblaze)

Cheek fur shape and face shape from Crowfeather

Hollyleaf:

Face markings from Firestar

Freckles from Leafpool and Sandstorm

Neck band from Leafpool and Sandstorm

Back stripe from Squirrelflight and Firestar

Ear shape from Sandstorm

Ear/eyelash/nose color from Leafpool

Same tail pattern as Squirrelflight

Cheek fur shape from Sandstorm

I'll have to make some drawings showing off all the connections between their designs at some point because incorporating details from the designs of relatives is one of my favorite parts of making warrior cats designs akshfdklsadfh

[apparitionism]

Bonus 2

Here’s the second part of a holiday story, begun in part 1, about how Myka and Helena, in a vaguely season 4 world in which nobody’s going to go to Boone but through which they have thus far been separated, are reunited for a day-before-Christmas-eve retrieval in Cleveland. Helena has been summoned by Claudia to serve as Myka’s backup, for Pete is spending some holiday time with his family... but as it turns out, the retrieval is necessary because—plot-semi-twist!—Pete Christmas-gifted his cousin, who is a bigwig at an accounting firm, with an artifact, a pen that apparently has something to do with Santa’s naughty/nice list. Which said cousin used to confer end-of-year bonuses—and penalties. As this part opens, Myka is just beginning to process the fact that the whole situation is Pete’s fault...

(And no, I didn’t manage to bring this thing in for a landing in this part. Nobody faint from the surprise.)

Bonus 2

“Okay,” Myka acknowledges, because what else can she do? The fact is that in any Warehouse-related context, “coincidence” is a non sequitur, and she begins formulating a plan to Christmas-gift Claudia with a T-shirt featuring that sentiment. How fast can she get a custom T-shirt made?

The irony is that Claudia would know.

“Yeah,” says Pete’s cousin—Pete’s cousin! She might be affirming the Claudia-irony in Myka’s head, or the situational irony Myka is now stuck in, or any of the vast array of ironies that make up the Warehousian unfolding of time itself. Myka would not have expected Pete’s cousin’s words to contain multitudes. And yet.

“He told me it was the kind of thing he thought I’d like,” that cousin continues, “and he was right. Effects aside, it’s a gorgeous implement. Perfectly balanced... which I guess works on an existential level too, doesn’t it? Naughty, nice.” She shifts the pen to rest a delicate crosswise on an extended index finger, testing its equilibrium as a chef might a knife.

The pen—or is it merely a different species of knife?—basks in Nancy Sullivan’s regard. “Resonant little instrument,” she says, with clear affection. “Anyway, we were talking about Pete.” A different sort of affection now colors her voice. “He went into this big production-number apology about it being sort of secondhand.”

“Oh?” Myka says, distracted by pens, knives, resonances... but, right, secondhand. Of course it’s secondhand. No new item could be an artifact. Or could it? This seems like a Steve-conversation topic.... and it certainly beats “H.G. is god knows where” for philosophy.

“Not because it’s not new,” Pete’s cousin says, apparently reading Myka’s mind, “but because he initially was thinking he’d give it to somebody else.”

Myka repeats her interrogative “oh?”, but she’s getting a feeling again.

“Yeah,” says Nancy Sullivan, and Myka really has to applaud her talent for broadly applicable affirmation. “He said he wanted to give it to his partner because, and I quote, ‘she likes the old-fashioned stuff,’ but then he realized he shouldn’t because, and I also quote, ‘she’s got this whole family feathery-pen dealy-thingy and I don’t want to upset her.’” She waves the pen again, this time directly at Myka, like a conductor imploring the oboes to pick up the pace. “And he told me his partner’s name,” she concludes.

“I’m sure there are lots of Myka Berings in the world?” Myka tries, weakly, raising her hands as if to offer Nancy Sullivan all those other Myka Berings. The last vestige of defensibility... then her hands drop, because really. She looks at Helena in apology, with only an indistinct, tangled sense of what she’s apologizing for. I’m sorry I occasioned this is part of it, yet there’s a deeper fault she feels but can’t quite ideate, one more consequential than an anodyne “oops.”

“Listen, he’s a really good guy,” Nancy Sullivan says.

“I agree completely,” Myka assures her. But in the interest of full disclosure, she adds, “Mostly completely. I mean, I’m going to kill him for this.”

Helena says, “Are you.” Her tone brings Myka up short: it’s impossibly knowing, suggesting insight into everything Myka has been thinking, about someday and talking and things.

Again with the reading so right.

Myka would love to have the panache to do more than glance furtively at Helena, to pull off a playful, similarly knowing response, like “that depends on my backup” (or something actually clever that will doubtless occur to her during some post-holiday post-mortem). Instead she goes with a not at all interrogative “Oh.”

Nancy Sullivan looks from Myka to Helena. Then she says, “Okay, revision: A really good guy who might be hanging onto some unreasonable hope.”

Myka wishes she could keep from glancing yet again, now, at Helena—now as she grasps the fullness of her underlying error, now as she formulates a hopeful plan regarding someday saying out loud “I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that he had any such hope and that I didn’t make completely clear that any such hope would never have been anything but unreasonable”—but the wish doesn’t work. She glances... thus proving Nancy Sullivan’s point.

“He didn’t mention you,” Pete’s cousin tells Helena. “I think I see why.”

“I’m both offended and pleased,” Helena says, with her customary little thank-you head-bow.

Rather than luxuriating in the familiarity of that head-bow, Myka tries to head off a more detailed discussion of Helena’s role in it all (and what a nondescriptively limp phrase that is) by observing, “The sixth-sense thing is quite the family trait.”

“Ah. Sure. You’ve had experience,” Nancy Sullivan says, a little droop in her voice.

Has she taken Myka’s words as criticism? Myka hurries to reassure, “Sometimes it’s very helpful.”

“But. Other times.” This is heavier, and now she must be referencing her own vibe-related experiences.

“Your family get-togethers must be really... charged?” Myka tries.

Nancy Sullivan offers another all-encompassing “Yeah.” Then she laughs. “But at least we don’t have a feathery-pen dealy-thingy like your family does.”

Helena clears her throat, an attention-garnering ah-ha-hem, as if it’s in the stage directions preceding her next line in some farce. She inclines her head: more stage-direction drama. Finally, “You do now,” she says in benediction.

Nancy Sullivan’s jaw drops. “Wow,” she says, and “wow,” she repeats. Then she laughs again and says, “He really should’ve mentioned you.”

Myka might laugh too, but she is preoccupied by the way in which Helena’s well-chosen articulation has persuaded her body to remind her that it and she have reached no mutually satisfactory agreement about appropriate reactions.

And that in turn sparks Myka to a realization: once the retrieval is accomplished, there may be a nonzero chance that she and Helena could enjoy a bit more of that liminal together-presence...

Myka’s body makes its best effort to crash through the gauzy ideating her brain would prefer to do about what such time could entail, and after no small amount of nethers-vs.-cerebrum struggle, she manages to propose, truce-wise, a simple Let’s just hope it exists.

Surprisingly, body and mind are willing to shake on that, giving Myka leave to slip on a glove and pronounce, “Just give us the pen. Then it’s over. Mostly. The money will probably revert... so you’ll most likely have to redo the bonuses the old-fashioned way.” Hearing herself, she amends, “Well. The regular way.”

“I don’t mind redoing. But reverting...” Pete’s cousin tightens her fingers around the artifact, pulling it near to her body as if she might be considering, for one last “maybe,” the idea of punching her way out.

Myka tenses, and she doesn’t need to cast a glance to know that Helena is doing the same.

She glances anyway... and indeed, Helena alive with wiry readiness is a sight worth the seeing. So worth it, in fact, that Myka is genuinely, if improperly, disappointed that said sight doesn’t cause the truce to collapse.

After a moment, however, color returns to Nancy Sullivan’s knuckles, and Myka removes the pen from her slackened grip.

But then Nancy Sullivan cocks her head. “Is it really over though? I feel like something else might be happening.”

No. No. Absolutely not. “Something else is always happening,” Myka says, affecting nonchalance as she slides the feathery foolishness into a static bag, ignoring its yipping sparks of protest. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nancy Sullivan casts a skeptical look at the barky little bag. “If you say so. Anyway seeing Pete’s face when I tell him you and I –and he and I!—are fellows in family feathery-pen dealy-thingies now? Might end up being the second-best end-of-year bonus of all, given everything.” There’s a little mockery in her voice, echoing the cousin Myka knows so well.

“And the best such bonus?” Helena inquires.

“Docking Bob’s pay,” Nancy Sullivan says instantly.

Myka snorts, and Nancy Sullivan turns back to her and says, “Are you okay with me being glad we met?” Like she’s mostly but not entirely sure of the response she’ll get, and that’s another echo.

“Only if you’re okay with me being glad too,” Myka says, her own voice sounding a familiar note—one she’s pretty sure Pete would recognize.

After a nod, Nancy Sullivan turns to Helena. “I’d say it to you, but I feel like there’s something extra going on with you, like—”

Myka steps in: “Honestly, always,” and then she’s hustling Helena out of the office even as Helena chirps, “I’m both offended and pleased by that as well!”

Back in the elevator, Helena speaks first. “I did not expect that,” she says, sounding entertained by—practically bubbly about—the entire scenario.

“I should have,” Myka grumbles.

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“Oh god no,” Myka says, involuntarily. “Too easy if anything.”

Helena’s eyebrows rise, and her eyes accuse. “I’ve known you for no small amount of time,” she says.

Myka’s previous review fights that statement, but she doesn’t speak of it.

Her lack of response prompts a heavy I-am-no-longer-entertained sigh. “Must I return to the phrase ‘your truth’?”

“Please don’t,” Myka says. That’s also nearly involuntary, but it sounds too harsh, like she’s dismissing as unimportant that bookstore interaction, as well as the entirety of those in-extremis manifestations of herself and Helena. Rather than apologizing for that, for surely it would prove far too entangling, she tries to draw Helena’s attention back to the entertainment. “I like Nancy Sullivan. She reminds me of Pete and his mom.”

“Pete’s mother? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

That’s a bit more jousty, backed by curiosity. Good. “She’s a Regent,” Myka says, for it’s the most salient piece of information she has about Jane Lattimer.

Helena stills. Her jaw hardens. “Then perhaps I have indeed had the... pleasure.” Cold. Cold. Cold.

You idiot, Myka scourges herself. Why couldn’t she have done the normal thing and left Pete’s mom as “Pete’s mom”? But now, but now: now she’s seen this wound, down there under the ice, and she wants to test that ice, but she can’t, regardless of her wish and want to know know know, to know everything Helena has been put through, so as to know whom to hate (and she hopes that doesn’t include Pete’s mom) and whom to someday thank (and she double-hopes that does include Pete’s mom). “Anyway I think the cousin had the right idea,” she says, pushing back to the now, to what just happened. “Using an artifact to do what are really decent things, even if they were judgmental.”

“Rather Old Testament,” Helena says. “Strangely inappropriate for this holiday, no?” She asks that like she’s really thinking—wondering—about it.

Myka congratulates herself on having provided a distraction, however minimal, from whatever Regent-pain her unthinking reveal caused to surface. “I hadn’t thought about Santa being more Yahweh than Jesus,” she says, to enhance it, “and I’m not sure what it says about my position on salvation that I genuinely wish we could have let her keep that pen. Or even better, if we could maybe ferry it around to deserving arbiters... wouldn’t that contribute to the greater good, even if it’s in a judgy Old-Testament way?”

Helena’s face moves as if she’s about to answer, but before she can, a rupturing screech of metal-on-metal complication resounds decisively through the space, and their ear-popping descent slows, slows, slows...

...and stops.

After an appropriately irony-bearing pause, Helena says, “This elevator seems to disapprove of your suggestion. Or perhaps it’s your theological indecision that displeases?”

All Myka can manage is an extremely resigned “I am not surprised.”

Efforts to summon help strengthen the “disapproval” interpretation: they’re fruitless. No one answers the emergency line, and this mirrored box is, according to both their phones, the place where cell service goes to die. Or where that service is interfered with by a theologically offended pulley-based mechanism.

“I genuinely cannot believe we’re stuck in an elevator,” Myka says. It may be the most true statement to which she’s ever given voice.

After a beat, however, she concedes, “But of course I can.”

Helena casts her gaze around. Once again, exaggeratedly stage-direction-y. “At least it’s reasonably well-appointed. For an elevator in which to be... stuck.” She seems to relish articulating “stuck,” so she’s back to being entertained. Not quite bubbly, but definitely entertained.

Myka can’t get past her annoyance with the elevator’s disapproval, so she says a peevish, “I don’t like mirrors.” She’s painfully aware now that they cover not only the walls, but also the ceiling. She can’t even look heavenward in supplication, sarcastic or otherwise, without regarding herself. It really is too much.

Given that no other communication technology is working, she resorts to the Farnsworth. She gives thanks for Warehouse mojo, or whatever enables it to elude the elevator’s wrath, when Claudia answers with, “No info on ‘lists, making them’ yet.”

“We dealt with that,” Myka tells her. “New problem.”

“Another artifact?”

“Who knows? Maybe Pete’s in an elevator somewhere else in this town making bad decisions, and they’re redounding to our detriment.” She’s vamping. Stuck in an elevator with Helena, she’s vamping. Instead of simply basking in such fantasy-made-fact, she’s vamping.

She doesn’t bother wondering whether Helena knows she’s doing that; if this little adventure has done nothing else, it’s reminded Myka that Helena always knows. It’s both wonderful and terrible to be so legible, particularly to someone Myka so often finds frustratingly illegible.

“I’m not following,” Claudia says.

Speaking of illegible: Myka, heal thyself. “We’re stuck. In an elevator,” she clarifies.

Claudia makes a noise that, impressively, marries a gasp and a snicker. “Are you really? Or did you push the stop button, like people do?”

“Like people... what?”

“When they want to have a little uninterrupted chat,” Claudia says, pedantic, as if now she’s the one who’s “clarifying.”

“Nobody does that in real life,” Steve says from offscreen. Myka is pleased to know he’s around.

“Myka just did,” Claudia insists in his direction. “Didn’t you,” she insists at Myka.

“If I did,” Myka says, “why would I be calling you to get us out of here?”

“Yeah, why would she?” Steve asks, but from farther away.

Don’t leave! Myka wants to exhort. She would never admit to needing backup in a counter-Claudia sense... but she does appreciate when Steve provides it.

“Oooh, because maybe the chat didn’t go so well,” Claudia says with great, and to Myka’s thinking entirely inappropriate, relish.

Trying for calm pragmatism, she says, “Wouldn’t I just... unpush the stop button then?”

“Myka,” Claudia says. It’s the most chiding, disappointment-laden use of her name Myka has ever heard, even when measured against all the times her father has uttered those two designating syllables. “Believe me when I tell you I’m a fan,” Claudia goes on, turning mollifying, “but you really need to lean in when it comes to tropes.” Myka can’t imagine how to respond to that, so she doesn’t. Claudia sighs—seemingly everyone’s preferred go-to when Myka fails to produce words—and says, “Did you try calling maintenance? Pushing the emergency button? Using your cell?”

“Yes, yes, and no service. Do you genuinely think I don’t understand modern communication technology?”

“I think you pretend you don’t understand newfangledness all the time. Particularly when you’re trying to show off how sympatico you are with H.G., who incidentally doesn’t seem to be piping up like I’d expect. Did you knock her unconscious after your terrible chat? Or maybe during it?”

Helena has indeed been very—very surprisingly—quiet while Myka has explained the situation to Claudia. And she doesn’t step in to help Myka out now. So much for any counter-Claudia backup.

“There was not a chat,” Myka says.

Helena is regarding herself in the mirrored ceiling.

“But there could be one now?” Claudia nudges. “Let me see if I can see what’s up. I’ve got cell service.” She disconnects.

Helena abruptly abandons her ceiling self-contemplation, focusing her gaze upon Myka. It’s disconcerting. “Are you attempting to avoid an uninterrupted chat?” she asks.

Myka can’t suss the question’s sincerity. And notwithstanding all her ideas about talking, she suffers a cringing internal “yes.” Externally, however, she says, in what she hopes offers at least a veneer of sincerity of her own, “No.”

She doesn’t follow up by asking “why would I be doing that,” because Helena would probably have a guess. And because that guess would probably be accurate: “You are a coward,” Helena might say, and Myka would regrettably have to either tell the truth and agree, or lie and disclaim any emotional investment in whatever the outcome of such a chat might be.

Silence. Longer than it should be... or is it as long as Myka deserves?

You wanted time together. Don’t bellyache about the form it takes.

“Your objection to mirrors,” Helena eventually says.

“What about it?” Myka asks. Her very soul flinches.

“What is it?”

Myka has never before stated her dislike of mirrors aloud, and she regrets having done so now. To play it off, she says a dismissive, “An artifact.” And yet the truth is that despite the unnerving nature of her interaction with Alice’s mirror and how it continues to prey on her mind, it isn’t really that—or rather, that only intensified her dislike.

But when Helena proposes, “Yet another ‘dealy-thingy’?”, clearly (and preciously) trying the phrase out in her mouth, Myka misleadingly (intentionally misleadingly) nods and says, “They’re all dealy-thingies.”

To that, Helena says, “Interesting.”

Myka would probe that word, but to do so might destabilize the ground, here in an elevator. Instead, for the moment, she tilts her head in the direction of the Christmas muzak, the literal elevator music, being piped in. “Oh, sure, that still works.” She gestures at the speaker, a thin dark stripe between two mirror-panels, from which the sound is emerging. The elevator is nothing if not insistent.

In truth, she doesn’t mind Christmas carols. She does mind the bowdlerization thereof, and isn’t that an attitude the dogmatic elevator really ought to share? O holy night, the stars are brightly... synthesizing? It’s wrong.

Now even her mind is vamping. Great.

Helena tilts her head toward the speaker, however, and Myka appreciates her willingness to be redirected. At least for a moment.

In fact, for all her vamping, mental and otherwise, Myka finds herself absurdly content to simply stand against a mirrored elevator wall and regard Helena... who in that instant of Myka’s acknowledged contentment seems to accept their predicament as unlikely to be resolved in a timely fashion: she sits down, of course elegantly, resting her back against her side of the box and stretching her legs (her legs, Myka’s body notes, just to let her know it’s still paying close attention) out in front of her.

The looking-down perspective is a bit disorienting—although at least this time it has nothing to do with being stuck to a ceiling—but Myka has no time to process it, for Helena’s next salvo, looking up, is, “You’ve been expecting me to remark further on naughtiness, haven’t you.”

Reading, yet again. “I kind of have,” Myka admits. It seems an overly judgmental statement, particularly given that Myka has to deliver it as if from an elevated bench. And yet... she kind of has.

“I’d rather not fulfill that expectation,” Helena says. “If we could speak of other things.”

Myka is a little thrown, but thankful. “That is entirely fine by me. What do you want to talk about?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly,” Myka says, meaning it as an answer to either interpretation of Helena’s interrogative: Are you asking what I want to talk honestly about? or Are you asking, with honest intent, what I want to talk about? She hopes Helena will respond similarly.

“Something that interests you,” Helena says.

That’s not in any way what she was expecting. “Really?”

“Really.”

It’s a word similar to, yet very different from, “honestly.” What, in a real sense, interests Myka? In this moment, all she can think to say is “you.” And perhaps because her normal inhibitions are disordered, here in this stopped elevator, that’s what she blurts out.

And that seems, incongruously, to take Helena aback. “What about me?” she asks.

Myka can’t say “everything.” It’s the real answer (really), but it’s far too... big. For an unexpected reunion, an unexpected uninterrupted chat—although Claudia or rescuers could at any point interrupt it, which Myka should hope happens (should)—it’s far too big.

So: smaller. What occurs first to Myka is “where have you been”—but that would most likely seem accusatory. She needs something else. Something something something...

In the aftermath of the Warehouse not being destroyed, she’d felt herself full of hard-earned wisdom and bravery: enough, surely, to stop hesitating. Enough, surely, to act. Or enough, at the very least, to articulate.

“Wisdom” and “bravery” now seem nothing more than labels on empty containers, and so “faintheartedness” is the fullness with which Myka here initially accuses her today self. But as Helena breathes and waits for an answer, Myka revises that, gentling it to “caution.” And she adds “care.” Because she is trying to attend to, to appreciate, that breathing. And that waiting.

These might be nothing more than self-indulgently comforting shifts in vocabulary... but then again they might be akin to the shift from “Christmas” to “end-of-year.” Gentle. Inclusionary.

The something something something that occurs to her—because in attempting to avoid her own reflection, she is confronted instead with multiple Helenas—concerns a topic she probably should censor but doesn’t: “When you were a hologram... or a projection, or whatever we should call it... did you have a reflection?” She then reflexively backtracks, “It shouldn’t matter? But I don’t know.” That last, she means both ways. She doesn’t know: whether the reflection existed, or whether it matters. But maybe it’s a sneak-up on things, because she shouldn’t ignore things, and because a seemingly inconsequential tangent might tiptoe toward importance.

“I don’t know either,” Helena says. “I suppose I would have?” Her face contracts. “Or perhaps not, as I don’t know how that holographic projection of myself was... projected. But I do intend to look into it.” She says this last as if Myka has caught her in some inattention, a recklessly uncompleted assignment.

“I never even started majoring in physics,” Myka laments, which is true but also, she hopes, reassuring in an I didn’t do the homework either sense, “so I don’t know the optics of it. Projections. Light and mirrors. “ She doesn’t mention that in the wake of Pittsburgh, she had indeed tried researching such things... she’d got as far as some advanced volumetric displays, ones using dust particles as screens onto which lasers projected light, but at a certain point, a tipping point, the idea of Helena existing as—being relegated to—nothing more than light and dust seemed to scream a surpassing insult, a degradation conjuring death, and it was more than she could bear.

For now she puts that away. She shakes her head, shakes it free, and changes tack. “Anyway, that’s probably the wrong approach. This is Warehousey, so thinking outside physics, the laws... okay, all I know about reflections, unphysically, is that vampires don’t have them. So if you didn’t have one, then maybe all holograms are vampires?” Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. She would have done better to speak of dust, that and light and despair. Going with vampires instead? Talk about vamping...

“Presumably not vice versa,” Helena observes, seemingly taking Myka’s words far too seriously. “Certainly fictionally. Also not overly flattering, in the syllogistic sense of ‘Helena was a hologram, therefore.’”

“They’re very popular though,” Myka temporizes.

“Stoker’s novel was all the rage,” Helena allows.

The chat stalls out. Interrupting itself?

Myka nevertheless feels pressure to fill the silence: it’s her fault. Will a simple truth suffice? “I didn’t expect to be spending the day before Christmas Eve with you,” she says. “Or any day with you. In Cleveland.”

A small smile from Helena marks this as a more welcome fill than a question about reflection. As do her next words: “Nor I with you. In Cleveland, or any place. Equally, I didn’t expect to be sent on a mission with you.”

“That part of it went well.” Myka gestures at her bag that contains the artifact.

“We did—and now do once again—make a good team.”

“I’m glad we got the chance to do it again. Glad, but also... relieved.”

“Relieved,” Helena echoes.

That wasn’t a question, but Myka answers anyway. “Well, obviously, first,” she says, feeling herself launching into an explanatory babble that she fears she’ll be powerless to stop, “because you didn’t have to talk anybody out of using Joshua’s trumpet, so that really makes a difference in terms of how we—”

“‘First’,” Helena quotes, interrupting (stopping), conveying her full knowledge that that too is a vamp. “And second?”

“That we still are.” This, Myka says simple and frank.

“A good team?”

That is a question. Myka knows “yes” is the only sensical answer, so she tries to say it. But the depth and weight of the ways in which she and Helena “still are” choke her: they “still are” in the basic sense of existing, which was never a certainty; and even better, higher, these hours they’ve spent together today have made clear, to Myka at least, that they “still are”... well. She’d like to finish that with something like “in love,” but instead she tries to leave it, even in her head, at “still are,” with their time-crossed, maybe-destined predicate undefined.

“A good team” should be good enough—true enough—for now.

So after a stretch of time during which Myka knows she’s been focusing her gaze far too intently on Helena, she manages that “yes.”

Helena waits to speak.... are her eyes glistening more brightly than usual, or is Myka hallucinating? “I’m relieved as well,” she says, and Myka chooses to simply delight in whatever prompted such a saturated sparkle.

It draws her closer.

She crosses the small-yet-large elevator-width that separates them. “I need to either sit down beside you or help you up,” she says. “Do you have a preference?”

“For?” Helena’s eyes continue to glow.

That shine... Myka has hopes. They may not be realized, but she has them: the product of relief, “still are,” and an unknown predicate. “Whatever’s next,” she says.

A bit of time passes, with Helena now being the one focused most intently. “I’ll stand,” is her verdict.

Myka reaches down with both—both—hands, offering, and Helena reaches up, accepting. Their fingers meet and clasp, and too cold, Myka thinks, for both of them have a chill in those extremities... but first impressions of temperature promptly fall away as the new reality of the clasp roars into precedence.

Myka has never been so certain of, so certain of and enchanted by, what must and will happen next in her life. Never in her life so certain, as the clasp tightens, as their torsos lean, as Myka’s body begins an at-last congratulation, one that will become a celebration—

A voice from somewhere overhead barks, “Everybody okay in there?”

TBC

[headfullof-ideas]

I’ve been slowly making my way through some mild artist and writers block, and behold, I give you this mini-comic of two of the next gen Nekton kids I came up with. This features Jackson and Kai, the only two boys in the group, both the same age. And Kai is questioning some of Jackson’s choices right about now…

A fun fact about Jackson is that he has thalassophobia, which isn’t great when your whole families thing is being drawn to the water, and you come from generation after generation of underwater explorers. It’s even worse when you yourself are fascinated with the ocean, love to learn all about it, yet whenever you take family trips on you and your cousins parents old submarine, you spend half the trip hidden away in your room and stubbornly avoiding the windows because if you see the endless blue ocean surrounding you, one of your parents is gonna find you having a mild panic attack on the floor sometime later. But you’re NOT going to just skip those trips and stay home like a sensible person with that super specific fear would do, cause it’s one of the only times you get to see your cousins and grandparents for long stretches of time and in person, AND there’s still a fair number of stuff to do on a submarine that doesn’t trigger your phobia of the ocean your freaking family is drawn to. He’s also way too stubborn to not go anyways, and it’s entirely genetic and gives his parents migraines.

Yet Jackson is still scared after fifteen years of being fascinated with the ocean like any other Nekton regardless. Fifteen years of slowly beginning to feel self-conscious of his phobia, fifteen years filled with many conversations with his parents and extended family about how he’s still loved and they don’t care that he’s scared of the very thing their family has spent generations loving. Fifteen years of slowly feeling left out and slowly feeling like an outsider in his own family. And those family trips are starting to make Jackson feel a little miserable, and even more self-conscious.

So he decides to try taking matters into his own hands, saves up some money, and buys the most thalassophobia inducing game of all time, and tries to bully the thalassophobia out of himself by scaring himself senseless with Subnautica. And he’s not going into it TOTALLY blind, he did some research! And he’s super into world-building and creature design, so he’s been eyeing the game for a while anyways. He just, uh, didn’t anticipate how much it would get on his nerves in the first place, and his cousin doesn’t shut up about it for a long time

Bonus, Ant and Fontaine wondering what the heck the boys are doing upstairs, and why they’re screaming so much

(not shown later that night, Jackson and Kai both sitting at the dinner table with thousand yard stares and refusing to elaborate what happened earlier that day when questioned)

[m-ayo-o]

night out

25+ characters possessive bf // tension // confession from a friend wc 2300 bonus chapter for this: extended fic previous | next

You start off in a rock bar you know Gojo loves– this will be the perfect place to welcome your manager home. It's not to everybody's taste but you like it there– it’s never totally rammed like the places Nobara drags you to, they always play good music and there's a nice smoking area.

You enter to find Nobara standing with a tall, dark haired woman as they get some drinks. There’s something familiar about her pretty features that you can’t quite put your finger on.

“Hey!” Nobara shouts across the busy bar, making both you and Megumi squirm.

“This is Maki! I can't believe you haven't met her yet!” Nobara squeaks with excitement as you introduce yourself.

“Hey, short stop,” Megumi pats Nobara’s head, you’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of her ears. “Long time no see, Zenin,” he greets Maki, earning an irked eyebrow raise from the taller woman.

You look between Megumi and Maki, suddenly realising why she looks so familiar. Wow, it really runs in the family.

Megumi gets you some drinks while you chat, noticing a particularly cute laugh entering the room. You know it's Yuji before you turn around. He always acts just like himself, so confident and charming everywhere he goes.

“Nice necklace, did ‘Gumi choose it?” Yuji pulls away from your tight hug. “Oh wow,” he twirls you around, “did he choose your entire outfit?” He smiles, seeing a blush forming on your cheeks.

“Don't worry, princess, your secret's safe with me,” he murmurs, giving you a cheeky grin.

Your eyes widen as he moves over to greet Megumi, who just stares down at Yuji as he tries to hug him.

Princess? You rack your brains… why is Yuji teasing you with Megumi's favourite pet name for you? Maybe Megumi slipped up. You have been hanging out quite a lot recently, after all.

Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear two more familiar voices enter, turning to see Gojo and Nanami. Gojo's hair is down with his black sunglasses on, Nanami’s wearing his usual outfit minus the jacket and glasses, his hair styled back perfectly as always.

Gojo flaps around and makes his way to you, giving you a big hug, lifting you off your feet and squeezing you tightly in his strong arms.

“Did you miss me? How's Megumi been treating you?” His sparkly eyes peering at you from behind his dark glasses. “I'm glad you're back,” you roll your eyes with a smile.

Gojo reaches Megumi, ruffling his black hair and whispering something that earns a sigh and a frown from the younger man.

While Gojo finishes hugging everyone in sight, you notice Nanami got himself a drink.

“Hey, Nanami!” You approach him, leaning in for a hug. Realising you've never hugged the stern, somewhat intimidating man before, you start overthinking…

Shit, shit, does Nanami even like hugs? I don’t want to make him mad!

You tiptoe to reach round his broad shoulders as he releases his drink, returning your embrace.

“Thanks for coming tonight,” you hum with relief as Nanami wraps his arms around your waist. You know he would’ve preferred relaxing at home, he’s been so busy recently and this isn’t exactly his ideal way of winding down.

“I only came because you asked me so nicely,” he murmurs as you pull away, his hand still resting on your waist. You smile sweetly, leaning back to see Nanami’s eyes trail down your neck, obviously noticing the faded purple marks on your skin.

You hear Yuji's bright laughter getting louder as he approaches with Megumi following behind.

“What are you drinking?” You ask Nanami out of curiosity.

He swirls the liquor, raising his glass, “Whiskey. Want to try some?”

Yuji continues chatting, but Megumi completely ignores him, getting closer, seeing Nanami's hand on your waist and his drink on your lips.

Megumi reaches a long arm over and grips the glass, removing it from your mouth and slamming it to the bar.

“Why is everybody trying to get my girl drunk tonight?” He hisses, glaring at Nanami, leaving you stunned. Of course, your friends are offering you drinks, you're at a bar.

“Your girl, Fushiguro?” Nanami asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You heard me.” Megumi snaps.

You've never seen Megumi lose his cool like this before. Nanami's hand still rests on your waist as he cocks his head at Megumi, looking genuinely confused.

“Take your hand off her.” Megumi’s voice is low, commanding the older man quietly. But he’s clearly losing his patience, clenching and unclenching his jaw.

“Now, Kento!” He shouts, making you jump. Nanami turns to you and removes his hand from your waist, “You… with him?” You nod and smile up at Megumi.

“Wow, Fushiguro… you're really punching!” Nanami laughs and takes a big gulp of his drink. Megumi huffs, his body relaxing as Nanami steps over to the bar, getting a round with extra shots.

“I'm sorry,” you hear Megumi's voice as he brings you in close, “when I saw Nanami's hand on you I saw red…” he sighs as you shake your head, knowing that it’s your fault for getting too close to him.

“You must think I'm crazy, I didn't mean to– mm!” He gets interrupted as you pull him down by his shirt, stretching up on your tiptoes to reach his lips.

He sighs into your kiss, his muscles loosening as he bends down for you, smiling over your lips.

You pull away, look into his deep blue eyes and whisper, “I love you, Megumi. I belong to you.” You give him a cute smile as your arms snake around his neck and through his dark hair, his hands resting on your hips. He seems to accept this rather public display of affection– as long as Nanami can see, you suppose.

You feel somebody standing next to you two all of a sudden. It's Yuji.

He clears his throat and raises an eyebrow at you both, thrusting a shot towards you. “You guys are pretty cute, you know.”

“He's adorable, isn't he?” You chuckle, tapping Megumi’s chin, feeding him the alcohol, watching his nose wrinkle as he swallows.

“Sure,” Yuji shrugs and laughs, downing his drink.

“So, I'm guessing this means you guys are exclusive now?” Yuji asks as you face him, Megumi's hands still closed around your waist.

“We always have been, just didn't feel like telling anybody,” you explain with a smile, Yuji returning a perplexed expression as he leans between you two.

“Always, hmm? What about when Megumi offered his princess to me?” He whispers in your ears, standing so close you can feel the heat coming off his body. 

Your eyes go wide as Megumi grits his teeth. Somebody has a lot of explaining to do.

Yuji pulls away and smiles sweetly at you both, heading back over to the bar. You give Megumi an incredulous look but assume Yuji's being silly and drunk so you choose to ignore it for now.

Everybody keeps coming up to you anyway, asking questions and being nosy, just like the two of you didn’t want.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

You’re so wrapped up with chatting and listening to Gojo's stories from his mission abroad that you only just spotted Nanami sitting alone at the bar again.

Come on, Nanami, you think, sighing and heading over to check that he’s ok, despite the tension moments ago. 

You ask him to join you all, but he seems troubled, a few golden strands hanging over his brow, his tie loosened a few centimetres, microscopic details that indicate he might be a bit worse for wear.

He reluctantly expresses his concern that you’re dating Megumi. It turns out he's not worried about your boyfriend himself, but his father. He gives you little information but warns you all the same, telling you that he’s dangerous, to stay away from him, and that you shouldn't get involved with their family.

You accept Nanami's warning, hoping that he'll drop the subject, but you already know how it is with Megumi's family. You know you're never going to meet them.

You sigh and take Nanami’s seat at the bar as he heads out for a smoke, pondering why he was talking about Megumi’s dad like that. You decide that you definitely won’t ask Megumi.

Not tonight, anyway. Or ever. Yeah, probably never.

A cool hand on your shoulder interrupts your thoughts, your body arching around to see spiky hair and dark eyes peering down at you.

You lean into your boyfriend's touch as he checks up on you, stroking your hair, kissing your cheek then telling you he’s joining the others for a cigarette.

“You gonna be ok by yourself?” He asks.

“She won’t be alone, Gumi. Don’t worry!” You hear Yuji behind you, his warm, rough hands pushing your hair to the side, enclosing your small shoulders. “I don’t smoke, remember!” Megumi only raises an eyebrow at his best friend, releases your hands, then heads out.

Why didn’t Megumi freak out just now? Yuji has his hands all over you and he didn’t say a thing.

You get chatting with Yuji who clearly notices the love bites all over your neck as he recalls one of your previous nights out together.

“Remember when me, you and Megumi ended up back at his place after we went out?” You nod, wondering why Yuji is bringing this up, trying to piece together your drunken night out that was well over a month ago at this point.

You all got so blackout drunk you couldn’t even call a taxi for Yuji, finding it so funny that he was just lying there on Megumi’s sofa with his jeans undone, basically passed out.

Then you and Megumi went to his bedroom and…

“oh no.”

The realisation hits you suddenly. 

“We were so, so drunk…” you murmur quietly, recalling that you and Megumi had sex just a thin wall away from Yuji. He must’ve heard every last breath.

“I know,” Yuji laughs softly, “your bedroom door was open.”

Oh my god, could it get any worse!? You hide your face in your hands, shaking your head in disbelief.

Yuji just takes your small hands and pulls them back down.

“No need to be embarrassed,” he gives you that charming smile, the smile that never fails to make you feel better.

“You looked… so good,” Yuji murmurs, looking down at your hands.

You're stunned into silence, watching a pink blush rise over Yuji's tanned cheeks.

“That's when Megumi...” his gaze wanders over your body in that figure hugging dress, “invited me into his bedroom...”

Your lips quirk into a little smile. Wow. That would've been amazing.

His brown eyes find yours again, lifting a hand to the back of his neck as he looks away shyly.

You just stare as he scratches his neck, watching his biceps flex and bulge. “You and Megumi… you’re so perfect, you’re so good together.”

“I really wanted to–” he cuts himself off, his breath hitching in his throat.

You look up into his eyes, encouraging him to keep going.

“I really wanted to get in bed with you… and Megumi…” he trails off, looking up at you with those sweet, honey brown eyes.

“Yuji...” you hum his name, “you should have,” you smile, your hand working up his forearm. You know Megumi would've loved that so much.

“I, I– I was too nervous…” he stutters out, “I just… jacked off, listening to you and him…” he bites his lip, thinking about what he just said, his blush deepening.

You stand, stepping between his open legs and placing a hand on his chest, “I wish you joined us, sweetie,” you murmur in his ear.

You’re so dangerously close to him. He could easily grab you and kiss you right there. He knows he wants to.

His light brown eyes fix on your lips as you pull away, sitting back on your bar stool as Yuji makes a cute little pout.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

Everybody’s already come back inside, topping up drinks and getting pretty tipsy. Megumi strolls over to join you and Yuji, “You guys ok?” he asks gruffly, his throat a little dry from smoking.

You smile sweetly, “Mm hmm! You have a nice smoke?” Megumi notices a mischievous glint in your eyes as you smile and kiss him before you slip off to the bathroom.

You return, realising how unsteady you are as you stumble into Yuji, who kindly props you up between his legs, his hands around your waist as he perches on a bar stool.

Megumi greets you, arching down to kiss you, his hands snaking up your neck.

Yuji keeps you balanced as you tiptoe up, allowing Megumi to shove his tongue in your mouth. You let out a little moan as he grips you tighter, pressing up against you, forcing your ass against Yuji- he can’t physically back up, or he’d fall off the chair.

Megumi deepens your kiss, pushing you closer to Yuji. You can taste the alcohol and smoke on Megumi’s lips as he finally pulls away, his usually stern and stoic face tinted pink, his eyes soft and lust filled.

Great, he’s horny drunk.

“What have you done to him, Yuji?” You exclaim, turning your head as you’re sandwiched between them.

Yuji looks so flustered, his cheeks burning up as your ass nudges his crotch. He doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Megumi tilts your chin to look back at him, sealing your lips in another hot kiss.

“Can we go home and fuck now?” Megumi’s lips almost form a little pout.

He kisses you again, his tongue sliding over yours.

“Can we take Yuji home too?”

Shit.

You look back at Yuji who definitely heard what your boyfriend just said.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾

Everybody’s finishing up for the night, making their way home, apart from Gojo and Nanami who seem to be going to another bar. You say goodnight to everyone and grab a ride home with Yuji and Megumi.

The journey home is a little intense, as you’ve got Megumi on one side, whispering in your ear and kissing your neck, with Yuji on the other, his big hand squeezing your thigh, working up under your dress.

keep reading: urge masterlist bonus chapter m.list

[lazlolullaby]

The Secret Saturdays: Post Script Season AU

so this is set a little bit after the series ends, give the Saturdays a few months to rest and relax.

And then they get a call from Argost's lawyer.

Tldr: the Saturdays have to film a season of Weird World in order to get legal access to help the cryptids that are stuck there. (I mean they are absolutely breaking and entering to get to them fast, but. Legal is better.)

Below is an outline/not!fic

Argost's will was a mess to figure out. And he stipulated that the Saturday family get the mansion and legal access to the cryptids, on one condition:

The Saturdays have to Finish Weird World. 10 episode mini series 42 minutes an episode.

It's Argost's final revenge, making the family that was hurt in these walls stay there for an extended period of time. Expose them to all of the stresses and pitfalls of fame.

Just by nature of being a "wrap up season" with another cast (and presumably crew, it's unclear if Argost + Munya handled all of the filming and editing themselves.). The Weird World fanbase is not going to be happy.

There were press releases, opening interviews, etc confirming that the tone wasn't going to be the same. but the backlash was immediate. Full down voting on Rotten tomatoes. Calling "woke" and "forced diversity" because Zak is mixed race and Drew isn't "technically American".

The Saturdays know they're not in it for the fame, the show is an obligation, not a passion. But it still hurts a bit.

"what, do you think we can actually copy Argost? Live up to his level of theatrics? He's passionate about his things, we're passionate about ours."

The tone of the show is more pg-13 rather than nearly R. More edutainment than horror stories. "Things like what we want our son to actually watch."

The episodes follow a pattern: cold open with a single handheld camera a la Blair Witch Tapes. Then the opening credits.

then it's standard 2 camera sitcom. The overarching plot is the Saturday family study cryptids, and while Argost is "away", he needed someone to take care of the house. Things like tending to the garden, exercising the cryptids, returning cryptids once they've healed, returning illegal artifacts, etc.

The first episode is introducing the house, the set up, the Saturday humans. That they can't just get a tent and sleep outside; a fast moving Zon yanks it out of the ground.

At the end of episode one: "Zak, I know you think you're ready. But you are not immediately going to befriend a cryptid. They are literally traumatized animals and might be unpredictable. Do not think that you're special because you know what you're doing. You're still in as much danger as anyone else."

And at the end of the hallway: glowing red eyes. Zak: "please let me be special." And a huge gorilla cat walks up to him. Cut to credits.

Second episode introduces Fiskerton, Komodo, and Doyle. ("We have to be very clear that Drew and Doyle are siblings right up front." "Why?" "Luke and Leia." "Say no more.")

Episode topics: basic hiking safety, tick prevention and care, stretching before exercise, a trip out to the lagoon for scuba diving, (big shout out to this fic), basic first aid, basic american sign language, PTSD care with Fisk + Drew, lab safety, disability care with Doc's blind eye, even racial discrimation when Zak and Doc go into town for supplies. Because they're going to get cancelled anyway Zak found it funny to include LGBTQ+ rights and history, how many animals have homosexual tendencies, transgender clownfish, polygamous animal relationships and so on.

Cryptids are always seen in the background/being worked on. Drew focuses on historical research, Doc focuses on science research.

The running joke is every episode they keep mentioning Yetis or alluding to Yeti mythology but they never actually show one on screen.

Of course there's bonus features like a gag reel, Zak flubbing lines and Fisk standing in for him, Komodo tripping everyone and general hugs and head smooches.

There's a post show Q and A a year later going over some "odd choices" in production. And debunking the persistent fan theories like Argost is the Blackwell's long lost father, Fisk is Kur and just hiding it, things like that.

Zak sometimes uploads quick PSAs to the Weird World twitter equivalent. Either quick sentences or short videos. He keeps it as a side hobby, more interested in teaching people than any ratings or fame.

And to throw some Omniverse into the mix:

When aliens are revealed to the public, Zak puts out a short video about learning about different cultures and acceptance.

When public opinion of Ben 10 becomes sour, Zak reaches out to Plumber Public relations. He breaks down Will Harangue's most recent monologue and advises how to spot manipulative editing, logical fallacies, and propaganda.

Ben tries to get a spot in Zak's channel to boost his influence, but Zak steadfastly refuses unless Ben can come up with a PSA. "You made me write an essay. And you made it easy."

Zak invites aliens to talk on his channel, and it does a lot for public opinion of aliens.

[authoralexharvey]

INTERVIEW WITH A WRITEBLR — @multi-lefaiye

Who You Are:

Multi/Xavier || They/he

I'm a 23 year old aspiring author who loves to write stories exploring grief, trauma, and mental illness! I love horror and anything spooky that makes you think and leaves a lasting impact on you.

What You Write:

What genres do you write in? What age ranges do you write for?

Adventure, comedy, fanfic, fantasy, horror, paranormal, psychological, romance, thriller, and tragedy. Young and new adult, and adult.

What genre would you write in for the rest of your life, if you could? What about that genre appeals to you?

I would love to write horror forever honestly. Horror appeals to me because it examines what scares us and why, and I feel like horror gives us a real look into what makes us who we are like no other genres do. My favorite stories are ones that explore humanity through having it face The Horrors.

What genre/s will you not write unless you HAVE to? What about that genre turns you off?

I'm really not a fan of realistic, slice-of-life type works. Sometimes it can be fun, but I don't like works that are purely realistic without anything funky going on. I do have one WIP that comes close to slice-of-life, but that's probably the one exception haha!

Who is your target audience? Do you think anyone outside of that would get anything out of your works?

My target audience is honestly myself. I write the kinds of stories that I wish I could've had growing up, and if anyone else gets anything out of them, then that's just a bonus.

What kind of themes do you tend to focus on? What kinds of tropes? What about them appeals to you?

I focus a lot on grief and trauma and how they impact people. I love to explore the psyche of a character that's gone through hell and how they come with it, and I love recovery narratives. I don't really know how to explain what keeps me coming back to those sorts of stories again and again.

What themes or tropes can you not stand? What about them turn you off?

One thing I really dislike is when stories make a character's trauma an afterthought or otherwise don't acknowledge or explore it. I understand that not every story has the place for that, but at the end of the day, I think more of them should explore how their characters are affected. I also really dislike recovery narratives that treat it as a linear process with no bumps in the road or pitfalls. Recovery is messy, non-linear, and difficult, and I want to see that reflected more.

What are you currently working on? How long have you been working on it?

I'm working on quite a few things, haha! I like to joke that I have a very short attention span, and I do genuinely struggle to focus on one WIP for an extended period of time. One that I keep coming back to is called For We Are Both Fragile Things--a romance story featuring themes around mental health, grief, and trauma, ultimately ending in tragedy.

Why do you write? What keeps you writing?

Sometimes I feel like I have all these stories in my heart that I'm just bursting at the seams to release, and if I don't write them, then they'll rot away inside me forever. I have to write, because I don't know what else to do.

How long have you been writing? What do you think first drew you to it?

I've been writing stories since I was about six! What first drew me to it was a desire to tell my own stories and share them with the world, even if "the world" was just my friends and family.

Where do you get your inspiration from? Is that how you got your inspiration for your current project? If not, where did the inspiration come from?

I get inspiration from a wide variety of sources! Admittedly, I get a lot of inspiration from the media I consume and enjoy. For We Are Both Fragile Things is inspired by a few different things, but a big inspiration was my desire to tell a story that the reader knows will end in tragedy but still keeps them invested anyway. I think it's impressive when writers can pull that off, and I want to give it a shot!

What work of yours are you most proud of? Why?

Gosh, that's a hard choice! I think… one thing I'm really proud of is Vultures Are Holy Creatures, a character study centering around my OC Roach. It's incredibly personal to me in many ways, but more than that I think it's one of my most emotional pieces of writing.

Have you published anything? Do you want to?

I have had a couple of short stories published in school literary magazines, but nothing more official than that. I'd certainly like to, but I've been making my peace with the idea that not everything needs to be traditionally published.

What part of the publishing process most appeals to you? What part least appeals to you?

I honestly just love the idea of holding a physical copy of one of my books in my hands someday. I think that would be a really good feeling. However, I hate the idea of trying to interact with a traditional publisher and being forced to tone down aspects of my work, especially how queer my characters are.

What part of the writing process most appeals to you? What part is least appealing?

I just love to write! I love to write and see where things go. Not that big a fan of planning, though, if I'm honest. It can be fun, but outlining especially tends to bore me and make me lose interest in a project if I spend too much time on it.

Do you have a writing process? Do you have an ideal setup? Do you write in pure chaos? Talk about your process a bit.

My writing process is messy. I struggle to find motivation to sit down and write most days, and when I do, it's usually when I actually can't for one reason or another. Something that's been helping me, though, is roleplaying! I've done quite a lot of that over the years, but recently it's been helping me a ton with finding the energy to write my personal projects. In terms of my actual process, I suppose I'm a bit of a plantser--I don't do well with no plan, but planning is hard and I prefer to go with the flow.

Your Thoughts on Writeblr:

How long have you been a writeblr? What inspired you to join the community?

I've been a writeblr for about a year! I actually tried to join the community in the past, but I was too nervous to reach out to anyone! I'm a lot more comfortable now, though. I was inspired to join because I wanted to not only share my own work, but see others' as well!

Shout out some of your favorite writeblrs. How did you find them and what made you want to follow them?

Oh, I have so many favorite writeblrs that I don't think I can list them all here! Off the top of my head… @writeouswriter, @albatris, @nicola-writes, @wherearetheplants, @jezifster, @kingkendrick7, @gailynovelry, and @funky-writer-man are all absolutely delightful!!! I'm sure I'm forgetting people unfortunately, but if we interact regularly on writeblr then trust me, I'm a big fan of yours. (I also want to give a shoutout to my lovely partner @skitzo-kero, who may not be strictly a writeblr on their main but has absolutely incredible work!!)

What is your favorite part about writeblr?

I love the community that people have built and how much people support each other. It warms my heart to see people sharing their work and lifting each other up.

What do you think writeblr could improve on? How do you think we can go about doing so?

I think writeblr has quite a few problems it needs to reckon with. Namely, ableism and racism are huge issues that I feel too many people on writeblr are content to sweep under the rug and ignore rather than address directly. I'm white so I don't want to speak over any people of color, but I think the issue late last year with a particular user who refused to write people of color spoke volumes about how prevalent this issue is. Discussing racism in good faith is not "petty drama," and I think there are conversations that need to be had. On a similar note, I feel like ableism in writeblr is massively under-recognized. Many people don't take accessibility into account with their posts and rely on ableist tropes and language, and once again it's considered "petty drama" to bring it up. In general, I think people on writeblr should be more mindful and listen to each other--don't be afraid to ask questions to those who have said they're willing to answer, and be willing to accept good-faith criticism about your work and depictions of marginalized characters. I also think writeblr should have more of a focus on uplifting disabled writers, writers of color, queer writers, and other marginalized groups rather than complaining about drama.

How do you contribute to the writeblr community? Do you think you could be doing more?

I try my best to contribute to the writeblr community by uplifting those around me and supporting their work! I may not be super big or active in the community, but I love to support people and share their incredible work around.

What kinds of posts do you most like to interact with?

I love interacting with anything people post, but I love seeing excerpts especially!!! Any amount of writing people are willing to share, I am there for it.

What kind of posts do you most like to make?

I like to make silly in-universe jokes about my WIPs, most of which make no sense out of context.

Finally, anywhere else online we may be able to find you?

You can find me on ao3 and deviantart as multilefaiye! :D I use that username or variations of it basically everywhere.