#i will not abandon it partway through

[rebuke-me]

wasteland, baby chapter five fuckers!!

[yukipri]

I've seen a few asks and repost of the take flight all brothers au and it got me wondering if you think you might work on it again, I find the idea really cool and I love all of the art you did for it as well

I think the recent asks are a result of me reblogging my old Cody Take Flight art for Cody Day (2/2/24), along with a bunch of my other Cody-centric arts! So it wasn't due to me pushing just that art to hint at something upcoming, unfortunately.

While I don't consider that AU abandoned, I don't see myself working on it in the immediate future. I'm very, VERY bad at working on multiple story projects at the same time, and right now I'm still going full steam ahead on the Prime Override. And while I won't say Take Flight is directionless, and it does have a more serious underlying plot that I was hoping to eventually steer it towards (fully aware that folks who prefer fluffy crack may not like it much), Override is much more focussed, with many goals I'm trying to reach.

Other projects include two Valentine's Day arts that I'm cramming to try to finish before V-Day, a number of other standalone sketches/arts, and of course wary preparation for TBB S3 (all of which u can see WIPs for on my Patreon!). I unfortunately can't do all of these at once!

If there's ever a lull in my inspiration for Override, or I need to take a break, or I suddenly get a spark of inspo, maybe I'll do something then. But for now, i can't promise anything for it at the moment.

Thanks for your understanding!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[inimitablereel]

@thelaithlyworm tagged me in a last line game. Choosing to interpret this as the last clip I added in a vid, which is only relatively stand alone because the last one I added was kinda left long to fill space. (Avidemux really didn't want to start at the beginning of the last clip I added so you get a bonus Pangzi at the beginning)

only 20 seconds of this vid exist right now and I'm not sure the footage I'd need for it to turn into something real exists....

Anyways not tagging anyone because there's 0 words (but as per all tag games feel free to play if you want)

[kenaserenity]

Me being a silly goofy person: *reads the monologue from Taken in Mickey Mouse's voice*

My friends: D:

[unmeiokaemasu]

sigh I wanna start a new blazing blade run...I had one going but I love nothing more than starting new runs of fe games, and the further away I get from a particular run the more likely I am to scrap it...y’know I’ve never finished Sacred Stones? I think I had like two maps to go, and for some reason I lost interest for a year or so and when I came back I restarted instead. I kinda get it, for me the fun of the fe games is making all the decisions about how to level your units, how to build supports and how to clear maps without losing anyone, and the further along in the game it gets the less potential there is for those decisions. And yeah the allure of just finishing the damn thing is still there, but it’s less of a draw than the start of the game where anything is possible. And with Blazing Blade I haven’t played Hector’s mode yet, so I wanna give that a shot (I think I was still in Lyn’s section on my second playthrough). And I still say Blazing Blade is my favorite fe game ever even tho I’ve only ever beaten it once. A lot of it comes down to convenience, it’s much easier to boot up 3H on the switch than basically any other fe game.

of course what I should really do is make another stab at Chapter 3 of Genealogy. Psh, as if.

[ddejavvu]

okay but mei, touchy bestie anakin with no boundaries??

like pls that man just brush against me and i’d become goo on the spot

we've expanded a lot on bff!james with no boundaries but I'd love more on anakin :)

--

It's not uncommon to see pairs of padawans looking as though their brief sparring session has resulted in the destruction of all of their bones. It's so common, in fact, that salles have a cooldown area, separated from the main floor and paved with tile so that the floors produce a chilling effect when exhausted padawans flop down onto them.

It's an odd hour of the evening and classes resume tomorrow, so you and Anakin had the salles to yourselves. You're sprawled out over the tile emitting intermittent groans here and there- perhaps Anakin is brushing up on his Shyriiwook.

When the sun no longer stretches to the door, now receding over the windowsill, you know you'll need to be back in your respective quarters soon to avoid 2 nagging masters lecturing on school nights and proper nighttime conduct which, apparently, does not include sparring.

You nudge your hand against the back of Anakin's own, "Let's go."

Another groan that speaks deeply to the exhaustion inside of you.

You peel yourself off of the tile first, but Anakin's quick to catch your arm, and a flick of his forearm means you're falling back against the floor once more. The angle that he pulls you at, however, lands you more on him.

You fall halfway on top of his chest, and your elbow hits his stomach. He lets out yet another grunt, this time of sharp pain instead of a dull ache, "Oh- kriff."

"Sorry!" You press your palm flat against him to get up, and it hits his chest, rock-hard and damp beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. You try pushing up and off of him but he catches your wrists, weakening your grip and holding you semi-upright above him.

"Easy," He soothes, folding upright himself with a heavy sigh and righting you in the process. He blinks languidly, and one his hands lingers on your own, "I don't think I can walk back to my quarters."

"I can't carry you," You try wriggling your wrist out of his grip, but he tightens his hold and pulls you in to smear his sweaty brow against your shoulder- too close to your chest for your stomach not to twist.

You feel a huff of his breath leak beneath the outer layer of your tunics and he draws back having left a stain on your clothes, eyes narrowed at it in sadistic pride.

"There," He nods once, using a great deal of effort to rise to his feet, "I think you should carry me. I won, after all."

"You always win," You grumble, taking the hand that he offers you and letting him haul you off of the ground, "Besides, I can barely walk myself."

Quite contrary to his beleaguered complaints, he merely rolls his eyes, stepping in front of you and offering you his back, his legs bending partway to lower him into a squat.

You stand frozen, half-indignant at being cut off, and half bewildered by the offer you think he might be making.

And he is making it, though his patience is waning as he urges you forwards with his hands, "Come on! If I keep squatting like this my knees are gonna give out."

You rush to scramble up into his grip, his hands winding around your thighs, fingers squeezing places you weren't aware were integral to your support.

"You're lugging me through the Temple on your back," You point out, but your arms tighten around his shoulders just in case he decides to rescind his offer, "Your knees are gonna give out no matter what."

His jaw tightens as you murmur in his ear- you know it by the way a muscle beneath his cheek jumps. You wonder if he can feel it- if he can sense it when you swallow the little saliva that's pooled in your mouth upon such close contact with Anakin, and he calls his abandoned lightsaber to his hand after that uncharacteristic moment of hesitation with a flick of his fingers.

"Hold this," He orders, stuffing the cold hilt into your hands that are crossed over his chest, dangling there over his broad shoulders. You don't ask why he can't just clip it to his belt- you're too busy focusing on the way that his hand comes back to grip awfully close to your core when he braces it back on your thigh.

Hand warmed by your skin, fingers inches away from your now-aching core, the muscle of his back pressed to your chest, Anakin marches through the halls of the Temple, palming your thighs to readjust your position on his back far too often.

[lilianade-comics]

I can't help but feel, from Jack's expression in your latest post, that either at the end of or partway through Vlad finally shouting at Jack about how they're not friends because he and Maddie abandoned him, Vlad's going to find himself caught up in the biggest hug with Jack giving a very sincere apology while probably also crying. He looks so /devastated/, I don't think he'd be able to stop himself, regardless of whether it's going to be helpful/appreciated or not.

I'm a big fan of Jack having like, actual human reactions to things, so absolutely he would go for a hug. Unfortunately, Vlad still has 20 years of villainy to get out of his system.

[sensitiveheartless]

After drawing that pose study, I had this nagging feeling that I’d tried to draw something similar to it before — specifically, a purple/pink scene with one character leaning over another on a bed (and I distinctly remembered struggling so much that I abandoned the drawing partway through)

So I went looking through my files, and yup! It was from back in 2021, a little before I started posting on here. Comparison between then and now:

But yeh :D It’s cool what three years of practice and (very importantly) using reference can do — sometimes I can get impatient with myself when it comes to improving, so it’s fun to remind myself every now and then that I have been making progress, slowly but surely! Never give up never surrenderrr

[kittenintheden]

Before Morning's Light

surprise early morning Oristarion bang because I felt like it, enjoy.

Rating: E Pairing: Astarion/Orianna (female OC) Word Count: 750 Content: 18+, wake up from dual nightmares and then bang the demons away

***

They wake in their shared bed in the Elfsong at nearly the same moment, both panting and fighting against their nightmares’ pull. Instinctively they find one another for comfort, hands entwining and bodies pressed tight until the shakes stop, until her heartbeat slows. They rest on their sides, embracing as best they can.

It’s very early morning, judging from the way the only light in the room comes from the yellowed and washed-out streetlamps on the street below, and as they catch their breath, they meet one another’s eyes. Bleary with sleep, steeped in the terror of a receding nightmare. An understanding sort of mirror.

Ori tilts her chin forward and kisses him, softly.

The thrum of fear and anger still pulses with nowhere to go, twining along their nerves and preventing them from settling back to rest.

Their eyes flick back to one another and a current passes between them.

Ori’s hands go to his waistband as his fingers reach up underneath the hem of her sleep shirt, their movements frantic and hurried as though this can’t happen fast enough, both uncharacteristically fumbling. She makes an annoyed hiss as she grabs hold of his shirt and yanks it up to give herself more room to work.

“Who tucks their bloody shirt in when they sleep?” she grouses in a whisper as she looks down. She can see the hard ridge of his arousal straining against his thin breeches and she needs it free immediately.

Astarion’s hand is fully under her clothing now, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband of her smallclothes and already pulling them down her hips with no mind whatsoever to whether he might tear the fabric. “Who doesn’t wear breeches to sleep at all?” he grumble-whispers back, bending her knee up to make it easier to get this stupid thing all the way down and over her ankle.

“Someone who plans for this exact eventuality. What in the hells is this fucking drawstring-” She pulls at it, trying to dig out the knot and prying a subdued groan from him as her nails scrape against the skin over his pubic bone.

“Get, would you get out of the-” He lifts her freed leg up over his hip and reaches between them to knock her hands out of the way so he can take over. It takes a few seconds for him to work the knot apart, and then he and she both shove them down, breeches and smallclothes together, over his arse and hips to free him. His cock springs up toward her, eager, and he thrusts between her legs without thinking, seeking her warmth.

He misses the first time, his desperation making him sloppy, and they both snipe quietly at one another until she puts a firm palm on his hip to hold him in place and rolls herself up to catch the tip of him, adjusting for angle, and gets him partway in. Then he thrusts up once, twice, and he’s inside.

They don’t even communicate the need before they each get a hand over the other’s mouth to muffle the debauched whimpering noises they make as they begin rutting with total abandon, her leg tight over his upper thigh and gripping for leverage.

Their bodies are teeming with adrenaline and nerves and need. It’s like they were already on the edge, their arousal hypersensitive and ready to burst. It’s pure, needy, unadulterated fucking, no artistry or thought behind it, only the base desire to rock and ride straight to the top.

Astarion comes first, his eyes slamming shut and his back curving with it, his moan trapped behind Ori’s fingers. His shaking free hand goes up under her clothes, flat on the small of her back as he pulses and continues to fuck into her as long as his body will let him. Close, close, close-

She cries through gritted teeth and behind her own barrier, shivering through her climax before she slows and they melt back down into the mattress beneath them. Hands drop away from mouths, chests heave for breath.

“Ohfuckohfuckohfuck,” Astarion whispers, eyes still shut, limbs going heavy.

Ori presses her mouth to his forehead, huffing out her breath. “That’s one way to exorcize our demons, I guess,” she breathes.

From somewhere beyond their privacy screen, they hear Gale groan, “By Mystra’s holy tits, would you two shut the nine hells up, you aren’t as quiet as you think you are. It’s not even daylight. Gods.”

 Astarion collapses into silent giggles against Ori.

“Sorry, Gale,” she whisper-yells.

[cuubism]

Made in an Instant (5/5)

Dream's eldritch pregnancy, conclusion

Hob has never been so angry in his eternal fucking life. He’s going to find whoever decided to kidnap his pregnant husband and brutally murder them. Back in his day, people lost hands for stealing. Maybe he’ll bring back drawing-and-quartering. Now that was a good punishment.

With Matthew and Lucienne’s help from the Dreaming, he’s managed to track the kidnappers down to an abandoned prison just outside London. It’s really too on the nose. Dream will be peeved about the lack of creativity. Hob gets teary at the thought. Fuck he’s worried about him.

He doesn’t encounter anyone as he breaks into the place, which is worrisome. Shouldn’t there be someone? Guards? Kidnappers? He’s got his ancient broadsword strapped to his back—it felt more poetic than a gun—and he’s itching to just swing it through someone. Getting hacked in half will teach them to mess with Dream.

He passes dozens of empty, decrepit cells, walking faster as he still doesn’t find anyone— then stops. Turns to the cell at his right. That’s Dream’s magic. He feels it. And as he steps closer, he finds runes traced along the floor, along the walls and bars, a cage of magical lettering.

The only problem: the cell door is already open. And Dream is nowhere to be seen.

Shit. Is Hob too late? Did they take Dream somewhere else? Did they hurt him again? He spins in place, already starting to panic, he’s going to have to—

“Hob.”

Hob whirls around. Dream is standing at the other end of the hall. His coat is rumpled, but he looks generally unharmed. Most importantly, he’s not in a prison cell.

Hob rushes over to him, embraces him. Dream hums with pleasure at the touch. “Thank God. Oh, love, thank goodness you’re okay.” He holds Dream at arm’s length, looking him over. “Are you okay? What happened? Did they let you go?”

“I freed myself,” says Dream. He holds out his wrists, which have what look like burn marks on them from some sort of manacles. “I am. Mostly. Unharmed.”

Hob takes his hands, looks over his wrists carefully. “If they bound your powers like that, then how did you get out?”

“My powers were bound.” Dream smiles craftily. “But hers were not. I wished for us to get out. And she unlocked the cell.” He really seems quite proud of it. “We worked together.” Then he grimaces, pressing a hand to his lower belly. “Unfortunately, she has now taken this wish on as her own, and, I believe, decided she wants to get out. Now.”

“Now?” Hob flits around him, trying not to panic. Again. “Isn’t it too soon?”

“Wishes are often made in an instant,” says Dream.

Hob takes him by the arm and starts bundling him towards the exit. “Alright, let’s go home, then. Christ. Did you kill the kidnappers?”

“I do not kill humans,” says Dream.

“Did you eternally punish the kidnappers?”

“Yes.” He seems frighteningly unperturbed considering he’s just been kidnapped and is now apparently going into magical labor. Maybe he’s just compartmentalizing. Dealing with it all by not thinking about it. Hob will just have to do all the freaking out for the both of them.

He gets Dream into the car. Buckles him in. Starts driving at a speed that would definitely get him a ticket if he wasn’t married to someone who could just make police officers become suddenly and mysteriously distracted.

“How are you feeling?” he asks as he drives.

Dream considers. “Hmm. Restless. I’m curious what will happen.”

“You don’t know what will happen!?”

“This is untrodden ground, Hob,” says Dream. He does not sound as concerned about it as Hob thinks he should be. But then, the pregnancy itself has never seemed to concern him as much as it has Hob. It’s the grander scale of the thing that weighs on Dream’s mind. “No Endless has carried a child before.”

That’s just absolutely fantastic.

“We will find out,” says Dream, settling deeper into his seat.

Yeah, we sure fucking will, Hob thinks.

Matthew catches up with them partway through the drive home. Dream must have sent him a message in whatever dream-way he has, though Hob doubts he intended for Matthew to actually come find them. Hob feels briefly bad about not trying to contact Matthew himself, to let him know Dream was okay, but he was a bit distracted by the whole magical labor situation.

“Who the fuck kidnaps a pregnant lady?” Matthew exclaims as he soars in through the open car window, landing awkwardly on the dashboard. Dream slants a look at him, and Matthew amends, “Uh, I mean, a pregnant dude.”

Hob’s pretty sure that wasn’t the part of the statement Dream objected to and that calling Ye Olde Lord of Dreams dude might actually be worse.

“Does that make it worse or better?” Matthew wonders.

“Their fates were sealed the moment they threatened my child,” Dream intones, ominous as a storm front. “Now their minds belong to the Dreaming, where they will be fed upon by nightmares bearing the faces of their most deeply held fears. For eternity.”

“Definitely don’t kidnap pregnant ladies,” Matthew mutters. He ruffles his feathers in a shiver. “You good now, boss?”

Dream just inclines his head.

“You good, Hobster?”

“Well, my husband is going into some kind of unprecedented magical labor,” Hob says, voice tight. “And I didn’t even get to chop anyone’s head off, so I’m a bit worked up.”

Matthew squawks in alarm. “Labor?!”

“Do not be dramatic,” says Dream.

“Sure, sure,” says Hob. “It’s a regular Tuesday.”

“I am fine,” Dream says, more firmly—this time to Matthew. “Please inform Lucienne all is well. I will send for you at a later time.”

“You freaking sure?”

This time Dream gives him a stern look, and Matthew ducks his head. “Right, right. Well, see you later, then, I guess? Um. Good luck?”

He cringes to himself, but then wheels away out the window again. Dream rubs his forehead tiredly. 

“Don’t want the whole peanut gallery in the delivery room?” Hob asks, and Dream cracks a small smile.

“Would you truly have killed them?”

“I was kind of looking forward to it actually. Bit peeved you dealt with them first.”

Dream chuckles, tension easing. Hob’s still going way above the speed limit, and should really keep his attention on the road, but still he holds out his hand on the center console. And Dream takes it.

--

At home, Dream continues to be restless. Hob bandages his wrists, not that he thinks it will really do much. Dream changes into some of Hob’s comfortable loungewear. And then just starts pacing. Walking restless circles between the kitchen and living room, back and forth, back and forth. Hob’s never seen him like this. Normally Dream is very still, in control. He doesn’t fidget.

“Shouldn’t you lie down or something?” Hob asks. The way Dream is treating this is really not helping him fret any less.

Dream keeps pacing around the kitchen. “Hmm. No. I am going for a walk,” he says, and heads for the front hall.

“A walk?” Hob follows him at a rush, nearly tripping over his own feet. “Dream—”

Dream is already putting on his shoes. “Wear a coat at least,” Hob says, draping one of his own over Dream’s shoulders.

Dream gives him an arch look. “Are you not coming along?”

“Of course I’m coming!” With a frustrated sigh, Hob puts his own shoes on too.

He follows Dream out to the street, empty at this hour of the night, and across to the park, where Dream trudges off into one of the woodland trails like he’s on a mission. Hob follows, scrambling to catch up.

The forest path is absolutely dark at this hour, lit only by scant patches of moonlight. But Dream has always seemed comfortable in the nighttime, so he doesn’t seem perturbed. Meanwhile, the empty surroundings are not settling Hob’s anxiety.

“Dream, are you sure we should be wandering about in the park?” he asks.

Dream raises an eyebrow at him. “It is not as though we will need to go to a hospital.”

“It’s just— it’s the middle of the night.” And you were just kidnapped, he thinks but doesn’t add. Hob doesn’t know what delivering an Endless baby is supposed to be like, but he’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to do it in the fucking woods. “We can go to the Dreaming if you like?”

Dream shakes his head. “She wishes to be born in the Waking. I believe so she can properly meet you.”

“…Oh.” Hob’s heart squeezes. And he resigns himself to doing whatever Wish wants, even if it means delivering in Richmond Park. She’s going to be a spoiled terror, he already knows it. Much like Dream, if he’s being honest.

“Fine,” he says, and takes Dream’s arm. Pulls him close. “Why are we in the park, then?”

“Wish is restless,” Dream says. “And. I am restless. I can feel all her budding dreams, her feelings, they are wrapped up in me far more tightly than any other dreamer’s and the process of disentangling them is agitating us both. And out here it is…” He looks up at the empty sky. “Quiet.”

Again, Hob is painfully reminded that Dream verbalizes so little of what he actually feels. And he’s reminded, too, just how strange, how beyond comprehension, this pregnancy really is. Human pregnancies are already strange and miraculous, but this is… soul-bending. He can’t imagine how it must feel, for Dream to be so close to their daughter for so long and then have to figure out how to let her go.

“Okay,” he says, wrapping an arm around Dream’s waist and letting him lean on him. “Take your time, then. Both of you.”

“I was not ready,” Dream admits, “for this to happen now. I thought there would be more time.”

“I know, darling. Me too.” Hob kisses Dream’s temple, rests their heads together as they walk. “You’ll still have her though, yeah? Even after she’s born. She’s not going anywhere. It will just be a change.”

Hopefully Dream will stick to his agreement to take some maternity leave after the birth. He is really going to need it.

“And you will get to meet her,” Dream says. “I look forward to that.”

Hob does, too. God. So soon.

For a while they are quiet, just listening to the low breeze, the night birds, and the waving branches, taking in the moonlight and the isolating darkness of the park at night. It’s peaceful. A bit eerie, too. But this atmosphere is Dream’s element. He is a creature stepped right out of it. And it seems to calm him.

Finally, Hob asks, “Does it hurt?” Surely if it did he wouldn’t be strolling around out here, but then, Dream is very catlike in that he does not like to let on when he is hurting. Hob knows it well.

“No, except in the way exhaustion might be said to ‘hurt,’” Dream says. “But it’s no matter. You needn’t worry about me.”

“Dream,” Hob says quietly, “I thought we’d gotten past the point where you realize that I’m always going to worry about you.”

Dream stops walking, pulling Hob to a stop beside him. He turns to Hob, brow furrowed, and Hob takes him by the arms. “You deserve someone to worry about you,” he says. “Someone to care whether you’re feeling well. I want to do that. I want to fuss over you.”

Dream keeps staring at him, expression pinched, but then softens and says, lowly, “I like when you do.”

He’s said so before, but it can be hard, sometimes, to get things internalized with Dream. To get him to feel he can have it. Count on it.

“It’s settled, then,” Hob says, and Dream huffs. “I’ll take care of you.”

“As you wish,” says Dream, but leans in close to Hob as they start to walk along again.

Hob wonders what it all feels like. He had never watched Eleanor go into labor, it wasn’t really the done thing at the time, but he grasps the idea of what it’s meant to look like. But Dream doesn’t show much on the outside, other than his evident restlessness. Everything about his pregnancy, if something so nontraditional can be called that, is so cerebral, it leaves Hob apprehensive for how the ‘birth’ is meant to go.

It’s all a lot. It’s a lot.

“Hey,” Hob says abruptly. “I’m proud of you.”

“For… being… pregnant?”

“Yeah, for being pregnant— but more for trying again. I— even so many years later, I think about Robyn, and the things I didn’t do or should have done, and it’s daunting to put myself in that position again. Even if I want it. So, I’m glad that you’re willing to try again, because I know it’s the same for you—maybe even more so.”

“We promised to make it good,” Dream says quietly. Something Hob said to him once, when Dream had first dramatically announced that he was inexplicably expecting a child.

“And we will,” Hob promises. The more he thinks about it the more freaked out he gets, honestly, but he’s going to be self-assured for Dream. At least externally. “We will, darling.”

“You never had other children,” Dream says, more confirmation of a fact than a question.

Hob grimaces. “Couldn’t bear to. I think, if I didn’t have you, I wouldn’t want to now, either. I can’t have another family pass me by while I go on. Hurts too much.” He owes Death free drinks at the Inn till the end of the world, this time around.

“Yes,” Dream agrees, solemnly. “Better, this time. I hope.”

It will be. Hob’s determined.

He kisses Dream’s cheek, keeps him close in the circle of his arms. And they walk on into the night.

--

It’s some time later when Dream stops, seemingly at random, and says, “Okay. We can go home now.”

Hob says, incredulously, “Dream, we’re on the complete other side of the park.”

“Easily remedied,” says Dream, pulling out his sand. Before Hob can say, wait maybe you shouldn’t do that right now, the world is spinning violently around them, and their bedroom rushes up to meet them.

Dream lands primly on the bed. Hob hits the floor, only just managing to get a hand up in time to not break his nose. He rolls over onto his back, looking up at Dream. “Not to be like that, but I think pregnancy is making you crazy.”

“I have been balancing her powers with mine for months now, splitting my focus to prevent it from creating chaos in the Dreaming.” Now he sounds truly weary. “As she has grown it has become more challenging and occupied more of my attention. Her power is impulsive. Whimsical. It is like trying to contain sparks.” He smiles tiredly. “I suppose it has made me scattered, yes.”

Hob finally pushes himself up from the floor, goes to perch beside Dream. He kisses Dream’s temple. “I like your crazy.” He lays his hand on Dream’s stomach. “And hers. Even if it means I have to buy extra fire extinguishers for the sparks.”

Dream smiles, tilting his head against Hob’s.

“Now you just stay there,” Hob tells him, helping Dream get out of his coat, pulling his shoes off, and nudging until he gets settled in the center of the bed, “and let me get you whatever you need.”

“Only you,” says Dream.

Hob fetches him some water anyway.

When he gets back, he slides into bed beside Dream. “It is not long now,” Dream tells him, solemnly.

Heart lurching, Hob braces a hand on Dream’s shoulder, and… waits.

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for.

“What are we waiting for, exactly?”

“Patience,” says Dream.

Does he have to be like that?

Well, at least he’s not writhing in pain. Hob will take the confusion of… whatever this is… over having to watch him in pain.

Dream holds out his hand. Hob takes it, twining their fingers, heart pounding with anxiety. He recognizes the moment when Dream lets most of his focus slip into the Dreaming, into himself, that endless ocean of him. His eyes fall shut, his rigid spine relaxes ever so slightly, his jaw loses its tension, and he becomes distant. Hob keeps squeezing his hand, grounding him.

Dream lets out a huge breath, squeezing tight on Hob’s hand, and reality sort of… slips.

It breaks down the middle and skids sideways, and for a moment everything is all mashed together, like a door that’s never meant to be unlocked is being jammed open so something can get through, and Hob can’t tell where his hand ends and Dream’s begins, if he’s still awake or what year it is or if they’ve been flung into the Dreaming sea, there’s a deafening whine in his ears rising in pitch, his skin prickles all over with static. And then Dream reaches into himself, into the everything-that-is-him, and where his hands go his form goes sort of inside out like he’s actually reaching out of himself instead of in. It’s incredibly nauseating to watch but Hob can’t look away, never mind that he’s not sure which direction is even up anymore.

When Dream withdraws his hands, he’s holding a baby.

For a long moment, Hob can only stare at the two of them, speechless, his tiny daughter and his insane husband who’s pulled an infant out of fucking— out of where? Hob still hasn’t gotten an answer on whether he has a uterus!

The lack of physical progression is breaking Hob’s brain, it feels like Dream’s pulled Wish right out of the fucking ether, and Hob really might pass out but he can’t pass out because Dream’s the one who’s manifested-or-whatever a whole baby so if anyone gets to pass out it’s him.

“Dream…” he whispers, incredulous.

Dream smiles tiredly. He looks absolutely exhausted now, like it’s all crashed down on him all at once. He looks down at the baby, meeting her eyes as something passes between them, then leans down to kiss her forehead. Then he shows her to Hob, holding her carefully. “Your daughter, Hob Gadling.”

Wish looks up at him with wide eyes. She isn’t crying, which normally would alarm him, but nothing about this is normal, and she didn’t come out of a womb—apparently—so she isn’t covered in blood or amniotic fluid or anything, she’s just there. She actually exists. It wasn’t all some insane fever dream.

And she looks so much like Dream, with her tuft of fluffy black baby hair and bright blue eyes. Hob touches her cheek lightly in wonder, and gets a little static shock for his trouble. When he yanks his hand back, Dream chuckles, and Hob swears Wish is laughing at him, too. He just knows it. Co-conspirators, they are. “Sparks, you said.”

“Yes. One of her many abilities.” He gestures for Hob to take the baby. “She will not shock you again.”

“Eh, I’ve dealt with worse than a little electrocution.” Hob carefully takes Wish and cradles her in his arms. “Alright, Sparkle, let’s not burn down the flat just yet, yeah?”

He barely gets the sentence out before Dream bursts into tears.

Hob only manages not to jump in shock through years of ancient holding-babies instincts. As it is, panic spikes, because Dream doesn’t cry. Not really. He often looks like he’s going to cry, but rarely lets the tears fall.

Now he’s sobbing. Hysterically sobbing, chest shaking, clutching at Hob’s shirt. Hob would be worried about his ability to breathe if Dream actually needed to breathe in the first place.

“Okay, alright, sweetheart, it’s alright.” Hob maneuvers Wish into one arm so he can cradle Dream with the other. Dream presses his face into Hob’s shoulder and wails. “Shhh, honey, oh, love, it’s okay.”

Endorphins crash? Hob thinks desperately, because he’s never seen Dream sob like that. Or at all. But he imagines it must be jarring to gradually grow a whole being inside you and then be abruptly thrown off the cliff of separation.

“Here, love. Breathe. Come on, now.” He takes Dream’s hand and guides him over so that Wish can grasp onto his finger with her little baby hand. “Do you want her back?”

Dream shakes his head, but stops hyperventilating, pushing himself further into Hob’s side. “No. You should hold her. It is just that. I cannot feel her as I once did.” He takes a shuddering breath, but steels himself. Hob wishes he wouldn’t. If there’s any time Dream shouldn’t have to shore up his emotions, it’s now. “I knew this would happen. But I have grown selfishly accustomed to her presence close to mine.”

“It’s not selfish,” Hob tells him, heart breaking. “It’s not. It’s okay. You love her. And she needed you. She still does.”

Dream lets out the heaviest of breaths, and slumps against him, utterly spent. He slips one bandaged arm behind Hob’s back, the other still stretched towards their daughter. God. Their daughter. Who Dream pulled out of what feels like thin air. It only gets stranger and more amazing the longer he thinks about it.

He looks down at her, cradled so tiny in the crook of his arm. Was Robyn that small? He can’t fully remember. But Robyn screamed and cried so much his presence filled up the room either way. Wish is quiet, just looking up at him with her wrinkly newborn face. She’s like a wisp of thought, a silent scattering of light, like Dream on some days when he fades into the shadows, just a bit. Dream had described her internal world as whimsical and vibrant and so this transition into waking must be quite overwhelming indeed. Just like it so often is for Dream.

“She’s beautiful, Dream,” he says quietly, getting choked up. Dream hums in agreement. “She’s perfect. The both of you are.” He kisses the top of Dream’s head. “I’m proud of you.”

Dream grumbles, but Hob knows how he needs to hear that sometimes.

“You should rest,” Hob continues. “You’ve been through a lot.” More than a lot. Hob still hasn’t fully gotten the panic of Dream’s disappearance out of his system. And he would not be surprised if it was affecting Dream more than he let on, too.

“I do not…” Dream starts, but trails off.

“You’ve kept an eye on her for months, darling. I’ve got her now.” He bids Dream to lay his head down on his chest, pets his hair, and Dream makes a low, pleased groan. “We’ll be okay, love. Promise.” And maybe by the time Dream wakes up again Hob will have been able to wrap his head around the existence of Wish. Probably not, but he can hope.

Dream sighs again, tiredly, but subsides, and soon enough seems to slip into proper sleep, Wish’s tiny hand still latched on to one finger.

Dream wrapped under one arm, Wish cradled in the other, Hob lets out a long breath and privately takes a moment to be relieved that everything went okay. No matter how many times Dream had tried to assure him, he had never been fully able to shake the fear that lingered from Eleanor’s death. But thankfully, weirdness of it all aside, everything seems to have worked out.

Hob looks down at Wish, who’s still just gazing up at him peacefully. Pretty soon he’s going to have to get up to get her sorted with diapers and a swaddle and whatever else a sort-of-human baby needs. She’ll need to eat as well, and he’s not sure how Dream wants to handle that. But he doesn’t want to disturb Dream’s peace so for now he just stays, holding her against his chest.

“Think it’s just us for a while, love,” he tells her. “It’s alright. It’s all been a lot for you, I bet. But you saved your da, d’you know that?” It’s pretty remarkable, when he thinks about it, that her powers had manifested enough that Dream was able to use them to escape. “You’re going to be a right terror, I can just tell already. Wishing all sorts of mischievous things. Going to have to get some proper child locks or you’ll wish yourself right out onto the street, won’t you?”

She makes a soft cry, and Hob knows it’s normal for her to cry, good even, but still it hurts his heart. Fuck, he really is going to have to move either her or Dream in order to arrange some milk. But if he takes Wish with him to the kitchen to prepare some formula, Dream will be distressed if he wakes alone. If he leaves her in a bassinet, he’s going to be stressed to leave her unattended. Maybe he’s not as prepared for this as he thought. Maybe there is no true being prepared. Especially when it had all been so different, the last time he’d had a child.

“Yo!”

Hob almost jumps again as Matthew appears and flutters down to land on the foot of the bed. If he’s not careful he’s going to have a heart attack. “Jesus Christ. Some warning?”

Matthew cringes. “Sorry. I just came to make sure he’s okay. The Dreaming went sort of inside out and it freaked everybody out.”

Hob strokes a hand through Dream’s hair. He doesn’t stir. “I think he’ll be out for a while. Did the Dreaming sort itself out?”

“Yeah, it settled down.” Matthew hops closer, peering down at Dream and Wish, tilting his head. “Damn. He really did it. I mean, I knew a few people who had babies, when I was alive— but jeez, I’m not really sure I believed it.”

“Tell me about it.” Matthew keeps peering at Wish, so Hob adds, “You can say hi to her. I promise she’s real.”

“‘Real’ doesn’t really mean much when it comes to dreams, dude,” Matthew says. But he leans down by Wish. She studies him, eyes wide and blue. “Holy shit she looks just like him.”

“I know, right?” Hob’s not sure if it’ll stick. It’s easy to say the baby looks like Dream now based on her blue eyes and tuft of black hair, but babies’ features can change a lot as they grow.

“Wow. This is… a lot.” 

“How do you think I feel?”

“I can’t imagine,” says Matthew. “I’m glad everything worked out, though.” He hops down to the bed and plucks at Dream’s hair affectionately with his beak. Dream still doesn’t stir.

“He’ll probably come to check in on the Dreaming in short order, knowing him,” Hob says. He’s not exactly happy at the thought of it. They might have been able to avoid Dream getting pulled temporarily back into work if he hadn’t gotten kidnapped by a group of incompetent occultists, but Hob knows he’s going to want to at least set foot in the palace briefly after all that. “Do me a favor and kick him out as fast as you can?”

“Kick him out. Yeah, that’ll end well for me,” Matthew says, then shrugs in a flutter of wings. “I’ll do my best. And I should probably go let Luce know everything went fine. Is, uh, there anything I can do to help before I go?”

Hob’s about to say no, then reconsiders. “D’you think you can make baby formula without hands?”

--

While Matthew is in the kitchen attempting to do that according to Hob’s instructions, Wish finally decides that she’s proper hungry, actually, and lets out a loud shriek that nearly pierces Hob’s eardrums.

Dream sits bolt upright like he’s been struck by lightning and spins towards him.

“You’re alright, love,” Hob says, even as Wish shrieks again and he grimaces at the volume. God, she’s like a fire alarm. Add soundproofing to the list of modifications Hob’s going to have to make to their flat. He hands Wish back to Dream as Dream reaches for her. “She’s just hungry. I deputized Matthew to make some formula.”

“There is no need,” Dream says, and holds the baby close.

“Matthew, nix the formula!” Hob calls out to the kitchen. “Dream’s going to handle it.”

Matthew calls back, “I don’t want to think that about my boss!”

“You’re the one who’s sexualizing a perfectly natural process!”

Matthew squawks in outrage, and Hob laughs as he hears the fluttering of wings that heralds him fleeing back to the Dreaming.

“I think you delight in tormenting him,” Dream says.

“He started it.”

Dream doesn’t berate him for it. He only smiles down at their daughter, running a light fingertip through her fluffy hair. And Hob remembers a conversation they’d once had, about what it would be like when Wish was born.

“Were you excited to be born, Hob?” Dream had asked.

“How the fuck should I know?” Hob had said. “I was three seconds old.”

“Hm,” Dream had mused. “I was never truly ‘born’ in this sense, but I believe if I were I would have been very displeased about it.”

It had made Hob laugh in the moment, and then made him feel sad when he thought on it later.

It was said that raising a child let you relive your own childhood. Hob had found it to be true with Robyn, despite how Robyn had grown up in an era so different from his own, so much more comfortable, never going hungry, or wanting for the things that Hob had wanted for as a boy. When he’d seen Robyn play, seen him learn, he’d remembered things he’d forgotten, moments of life lost to time. Wish’s childhood will be different in ways he can’t even imagine. Supernatural baby, supernatural parent, modern world of modern dangers and wonders. But still so much of it comes back to the simple things, growing and learning and playing.

He doesn’t think Dream really had a childhood. Never had the chance to grow and learn and play. He doesn’t know all the detail of how it was with Orpheus, but he knows Dream looks back on that time primarily with guilt. And it can’t have been easy to try to raise a child when you were never one yourself.

Hob had promised Dream that he would make it better this time. That he would make it good. He wants to show Dream what childhood can be like. What a happy family can be like. Had Dream and Calliope had that, if only for a time? He hopes so. He really hopes so.

Either way, Hob is determined to show him. And when he looks at Dream smiling down at their daughter… he thinks he might even succeed.

[mc-lukanette]

Luka was still a child, far too young to worry about much of anything, yet he worried anyway because Marinette seemed worried. While she still engaged with him during their usual playtime and listened eagerly when he showed her the new toy he'd gotten, she felt distant and was more quiet than usual. It was a problem, not only because she was his friend and he cared, but he liked hearing her talk and ramble to him.

She wasn't doing any of that while she was so distracted.

He didn't ask about it - Juleka had told him once that girls were allowed to have their secrets, and he didn't know if this might be one of them - so he tried to find other things for them to do, hoping it might interest her more. They took a break to eat, went for a walk around the Liberty to see if the flowers needed watering, then searched for something to watch together.

He was starting to lose hope that he could cheer her up when she suddenly spoke partway through their movie search.

"Magic's not real."

He looked, seeing her hunched over with a movie in her hands. Not knowing why she'd say such a thing, he asked in reply, "Why?"

She pouted, fidgeting with the movie as she explained, "I had to write stuff for school about the story of someone we look up to. I was gonna do the tooth fairy, because Santa has a hard job too but the tooth fairy's tiny and works all year."

He nodded along silently to her story, agreeing with the logic. "Then what?"

"I wanted to know where they got all the money for kids' teeth, like a job, so I sneaked onto the computer when no one was around and..." She let out a groan, slumping and falling back onto the floor. "They're not real."

It was a shock to him too, though Marinette had been through it first without any support, so he can't imagine how it was for her. "But magic can still be real, right? Just not the tooth fairy."

"Santa's not real either!" she shouted to the empty space in the room.

Luka slowly realized how much she'd kept inside the whole time.

"I just wanted to give him the cookies I made last Christmas," she said, rubbing her face tiredly, "but then I caught Papa dressed up like Santa!"

"How'd you know it was him?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

"It's Papa! No one else looks like him."

That was fair.

"I thought maybe Santa was sick from the North Pole cold and sent Papa clothes so no one knew, but... the clothes were so cheap!" She threw her hands up, nearly sending the movie across the room in the process. "They just did it to trick me if I tried to meet 'Santa'!"

Marinette knew her fashion, so he believed her. He imagined that she'd let the Santa clothes go for all that time and it was only after yet another disappointment with the tooth fairy that she gave in.

For his own part, Luka had believed in Santa, but not that he was the one delivering gifts. According to his mom, Santa abandoned his wife, leaving her to do all the gifting, and she'd "throw him overboard" if he ever came back. He'd always wondered why the other kids told different versions, but if it was just a story, then it made sense.

A sympathetic, "Oh," was all he could say. It wasn't easy for him to grasp that magic wasn't real as, while he'd never seen people fly or cast spells, he always thought it was pretty magical that he and Marinette met and became best friends.

"And if magic's not real, fairytales aren't too," Marinette concluded, gently tossing the movie aside.

It landed in front of Luka and he finally got to see what she'd been holding that started all this: a typical princess movie with a prince, a fairy godmother, and a witch-y villainess. He frowned, picking it up and turning it around to look at the back as well.

He trusted Marinette, so it must've been true that magic and fairytales weren't real. He was torn, because while it was sad that he wouldn't be seeing "real" magic in his life, it was weirdly comforting that life didn't work out the way it did in fairytales.

He'd always thought that Marinette was cute enough to be a princess, or at least the girls in the movies who became princesses. At the same time, the only boys the princesses and those girls tended to be around were princes, and Luka wasn't a prince; he wasn't even close. He wasn't rich, he wasn't royalty, he couldn't do a ballroom dance, and he hadn't defeated any evil dragons.

But if fairytales weren't real, then he could stay with her. That was one good thing.

Marinette sat up, defeated, but not enough to ignore fixing her bangs and checking the tightness of the hairties holding her pigtails in place. Luka blinked, briefly distracted by the trail of freckles underneath her sad, half-lidded eyes.

He was sure they hadn't done any art or crafts that day, but she must've before she'd gotten there, as her freckles were sparkling like they'd gotten glitter onto them. His nose scrunched in thought, wondering how he could've missed that when she'd gotten there.

"I wanted to be the knitting fairy when I grew up. I wanted to make clothes for everyone that was super comfy and didn't go out of style," she mumbled, her hands tightened into fists against her chest. "A-and make it so bullies would have clothes that never fit and were always really itchy!"

Her eyes flashed with frustration, looking more blue than usual. Luka went closer to sit down next to her, wanting to comfort her but not sure how.

"You can still make clothes," he pointed out. "You'll be good at it."

"But—!" she began to protest, turning fully to him. "I had other stuff I wanted to do with my magic! Like—ah... nnn..."

"Marinette?" he called, alarmed as she started to shake. He knew intuitively that it wasn't from rage.

She shut her eyes tight like she had a headache, squeezing herself in a hug. She opened her mouth to respond to him—

Only to disappear spontaneously in a cloud of thick, pink mist. Luka recoiled, staring at what looked almost looked like cotton candy in cloud form that Marinette had been lost in.

Without a thought as to if it might hurt him or not, he thrust his hand inside desperately, hoping to pull her out. He tried to grasp at where her shoulder had been before, but couldn't feel anything except for the bizarre, almost fuzzy feeling mist. Still, he noticed that the movement had cleared some of it, so he waved his arm about rapidly to try and clear as much of it as he could.

A very Marinette-like cough sounded from below, her voice filling him with relief as she called out, "L-Luka?"

His arm pulled back, the mist separating and fading away into nothingness. He looked down towards the source of her voice, thinking that she might have collapsed despite him having not heard it, but that's not at all what he ended up seeing.

Sitting on the floor just as she'd been before was a wide-eyed Marinette, but small; small enough for him to carry around in both hands. Her pigtails had rounded and gained little hair accessories that reminded him of tiny pincushions, while her outfit had changed to a pink, fluffy minidress.

Most notable, however, were the glowing white fairy wings that were coming out of her back. He covered his mouth with both hands in shock.

"You're magic," he said, though it was muffled behind his palms. Even if Santa and the tooth fairy weren't real, at least his inclinations about their magical meeting still made sense.

"W-what?!"

She jumped to her feet, noticing how little she rose up, then turned and twisted every way possible to look at herself, which was when he noticed that she also had pointed ears. Even as tiny as she was, Luka was observant enough to catch the tidal waves of emotion passing over her face one after another. She was surprised by the change, but the wings and new clothes made her giddy, then she swapped to being horrified.

"Ah, but—but there's no tooth fairy!" She put her hands to her cheeks in distress, so fast that they made a slapping sound. "If I was gonna be a fairy, I wanted someone to teach me! Does that—" She gasped. "—Does that mean I'm the only real tooth fairy? All by myself?! I don't have any money to give to other kids!"

Luka fretted as she paced in a tiny circle on the floor, two children entirely lost without direction.

"Or do I have to be a fairy godmother? Do I have to go find a girl to godmother to? What if I pick the wrong girl?!" She whined, the pacing picking up as she threw her arms about. "And I don't know anything about being a god, or a mother!"

He didn't know anything about what was going on, but he didn't want her to worry so much. Perhaps impulsively, he put a hand out to block the path she'd been pacing.

Marinette nearly bumped into it, but stopped just in time. She stared up at him with her wide eyes pleading and confused.

"Maybe you don't have to be anything?" He shrugged helplessly with one arm, hoping for the same as her. "Did it come with rules? Like a board game or a toy you build?"

She perked, realizing that he meant an instruction manual, and immediately started patting herself down. There weren't many places for a guide to be put on her, though he noticed that pockets seemed to magically form when Marinette tried to search for some.

"...No," she concluded when she'd run out of spots to check. "I-I don't think so?"

"Then it's gotta be okay," he said; more decided, really. He might not have fought off dragons, but he would hide and defend her if any sort of fairy police came to scold her for rules they didn't know about. His mom had always been a rule breaker and encouraged him to break them in cases like these.

Well, she didn't describe a situation like his best friend transforming into a fairy, but it fell within the category, he was sure.

As Luka tilted his head to fully take in Marinette, he saw her glancing over her shoulder at her wings. She arched her back, shoulders tensing as she closed her eyes, but the wings only fluttered briefly before she gave up.

"You wanna fly?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah? No—yeah?" She blushed, getting up on her tip toes to try and make herself seem taller. "You'll hurt your neck if you keep looking down."

He unconsciously touched the back of his neck, having not given an ounce of thought to that. She was the one who suddenly changed, so why was she thinking about him? He looked around, trying to get a gauge on how the room must've looked to her, then suggested, "I can pick you up?"

"Mm?" She hadn't considered the possibility.

He laid his hands on the floor, palms facing up, and raised a brow as if to ask, 'is this okay?' Marinette stared at his hands, taking a few steps closer and looking them over like they were a puzzle, then slowly raised a leg and started to get on. He kept perfectly still, not wanting to jostle her, though she still fell forward due to his hands being a more uneven surface than the floor.

He would've helped had his hands not been preoccupied for obvious reasons. He was vaguely upset at them for being uneven in the first place, as if he'd had any control over that.

He waited for her to sit up and get her bearings, then started to stand up. He kept his eyes on her all the way to the coffee table, walking carefully so as to not trip or bump into anything. When they did reach it, he lowered his hands and she jumped off a couple inches away from the table, falling down slowly like a feather to both of their surprise.

"Oh." Marinette glanced at her wings again, as if she could belatedly check if they had fluttered automatically during the fall. Luka had been watching, so he knew it was just how her new body worked.

He sat himself down on the floor, his arms on the table for support so he could lean towards her. "Do you wanna change back?"

She pursed her lips at him, rubbing her chin, then cheek, and finally the back of her neck. "...I dunno? How?"

He racked his brain, tilting his head from side to side like it might help the thoughts move around more quickly. He recalled their conversation and tried to piece together any connection to her changing. "You were thinking about being a fairy? And magic?"

He didn't know how saying that helped, but she picked it up from there. "So... I have to think about being a not fairy? A not fairy without magic?"

He shrugged.

Since they didn't have any other alternatives, she went with it. Putting her teeny tiny hands on her teeny tiny hips, she shut her eyes and tried to focus. It did feel like a shame to try and change her back when she'd just turned into a fairy, but it was just as important to know what she could and couldn't do.

Nothing was happening though. Her brow twitched, her feet shifting in place impatiently. She swayed from side to side, not unlike he'd done earlier while thinking, then she opened her eyes to look up at him. Letting out a whine from her throat, she turned her back to him and tried again. He didn't know how that was supposed to make it easier on her.

Nothing again. She was still a fairy, still just as tiny, and she turned back to him with the same gleaming blue eyes, pointy ears, and glittery freckles.

"I can't," she said. "Not yet."

Yet? "What's wrong?"

"I'm still thinking about magic." She hesitated, then stepped closer and reached both of her hands up. "Come down."

The words alone were a demand, but the tone made it a shy request. He obeyed, bending over and letting his chin rest on his forearms.

Going close enough to his face that he had to cross his eyes to watch her, she stepped off to the side next to his head, putting a knee on his forearm as she leaned forward. While he couldn't see where she was reaching, he felt her fingertips against his cheek, at the hair in front of his ear.

"If I just have to think about it hard..." she murmured to herself.

He was really curious, but resisted asking in case it broke her focus. Was she performing magic on him? Was that why it felt so warm where she touched?

"Ah!" she yelped, startled, but what came out as shock quickly turned to delight. "It...it works! It works!"

"Marinette," he protested with a whine of his own, unable to stand the suspense.

"Sorry! Here, here..."

She was excited now, a far cry from the anxiety she'd shown when she first transformed. She moved back to where he could see her better, and this time he could watch as she slipped her fingertips through his bangs.

Like, well, magic, his hair changed from black to blue where she touched. He sucked in a breath, watching it spread further until she was satisfied, then she moved onto another lock of his hair. He had to grip his arms, forcing herself to stay still and not spring upwards from her contagious excitement.

She continued until his hair was dyed blue at the tips all along the front, then stepped back and jumped, limps spread in joy as she fell slowly back down. "Ta-dah! I'll do the back later too!"

He popped back up immediately, running his hand through his bangs to feel her work. Mesmerized by how simple the process had been and how perfect the magic dye job was, he let out a long, quiet, "ohhh."

She bounced up and down, then pointed at one of his hands. "Those next, those next!"

He followed the pointing to stare at it, not sure what she meant, but he wanted to know with action, not words. He leaned over once more to watch as close as he could, resting his hand flat on the table.

Marinette knelt down in front of it, placing her hands under his. With a small, "huph," she pulled it atop her lap as much as she could, then reached out towards his fingertips.

He realized what was happening before she'd started, based on where she'd touched: one of his black fingernails. She traced her hand around the outline of his nail, fixing the tiny mistakes and spreading the nail polish further in places he'd missed when he'd done it himself.

She tried to move over to reach the next fingernail when she was done with the first, but he moved his hand for her, offering her each finger at a time and then his thumb. She was elated, which he could understand for the sheer coolness factor of it all, but something in the back of his mind reminded him of everything she'd been saying, as well as what she was cut off from saying due to the transformation.

When she was done with his hand, he swapped it out for the other and asked, "What was it?"

"Mmm~?" she hummed, half of her attention on his nail polish.

"The other stuff? The magic that wasn't for the clothes," he clarified.

She stopped tending to his nails for a moment, beaming at him and answering with her full chest, "Stuff for you!" She waved her whole arm to gesture at his hand, then up at his bangs. "You kept talking about dyeing your hair, and how long it took to do your nails. I knew if I had magic, then I could do it for you!"

And that's exactly what she was doing: she couldn't have even thought about being human again until she knew that she could use magic to cure him of what was essentially a mild inconvenience. He could only stare at her, speechless, at how a big part of her wanting to be a fairy involved him.

She was amazing. The best possible friend he could've asked for. Human or fairy, she was just as magical.

"Done!" she declared as she finished the nails on his other hand, standing up to look it over one more time. "And it'll be our little secret!"

She didn't even want credit for it, another shock to his system.

"Thanks," he managed, finding his voice again. He admired his nails and bangs one last time, reminding himself to look in a mirror later to see the latter in full. "It's so cool. Really cool."

Her smile would put the sun to shame; him being happy never failed to make her happy too, which only heightened the effect this was having on him.

It occurred to him then that, if magic being real meant that fairytales might still be real too, he didn't have to worry anymore. Marinette was a fairy, not a princess, so the rules he'd imagined didn't apply to them, and she'd made it clear that he was important to her.

He might not've been a prince, but he felt like a king.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for how i played DnD?

I will try to keep this short but give enough info. At the time of the incident this past year, I was 19. I had made a few friends at uni. Someone brought up Dungeons and Dragons and as a group we decided to try it. There were 5 people playing as characters, including me, and one Dungeon Master (DM). The DM is 24, and the other people ranged 19-22.

Maybe it is just who I played with before, but it had always been stressed to me to do actions my character would do. Follow the actions the character would follow. For example, I played in a campaign with someone who in real life is the sweetest, kindest person, but their character was very mean and vengeful. It was fun! They would want to heal someone, but knew it was out of character so decided to NOT do that, and it was realistic for the campaign.

THAT is how I was taught. That is how I've always played. So it comes time for the first session with the uni group. It was a one-shot to learn how to play for the two people who hadn't played before. It was stated that this was solely to learn mechanics, the characters we were would not be used for the actual campaign. Cool!

Well, in this one-shot I had a character who was very self centered. The type to put themselves over the health of the rest of the group. I had never played that before and wanted to try it. It came to a fight and I was wounded and so was another player. This player hadn't played before and chose to run away and abandon the group. I chose to do the same thing because it was in Character. However, I happened to have the one item that could have stopped the cult from taking over and essentially starting the apocalypse. Thus, because I ran, it doomed everyone else.

It didn't seem anyone minded at the time, it was to learn after all. The DM mentioned then that it is a shitty move to choose to run, and you should fight regardless of if you die. I thought that was a stupid thought, why fight a losing battle, but whatever.

We ran through our first campaign that was over a month long. We all died but had a lot of fun. I then turned 20 and had a flare up (I have a chronic illness), I told them they could do a campaign and I would join in once better. The DM didn't want that because I would be joining partway and ruin the integrity. So they decided to postpone.

I got better, all good. I was sick and hospitalized for a week, then a week after I recovered. So it was 2 weeks. We met weekly, so it was only 2 weeks that we were out. Prior to this time we all met on Mondays, but after this i would have to go to therapy on Mondays so DM decided to switch the days to Thursdays which everyone could also do.

We started a new campaign and me and another player decided our characters would be intertwined. They played a character who had been royal and after the usurpation of their throne, they were on the run. I played the loyal knight who would defend them til my death. We made it VERY evident that I would protect them til my death, with no hesitation, and would defend them from any action that could cause them harm.

A fight broke out in our party and the hothead started coming after the exroyal. In character, I put myself in between the two and verbally told them to stop or else I would make them stop. Hothead character escalated and pushed mine and then threw something at the exroyal. Of course, irl we all were laughing and having fun, except the DM. The DM was trying to get everyone back on course.

Now, I could have decided to ignore this and go towards the obvious direction the DM was trying to steer us. But my character would NEVER have let a slight like that occur. So I didnt. My goal was to simply slash at the hothead, but got a nat 20. The DM CHOSE that I killed the hothead. That isnt what I wanted but I went with it and had the great one line of "take this as a warning for the rest of you".

The person who played the hothead was dying of laughter and didn't seem upset, they had a second character ready. Well, at the end of the session the DM asked me to stay behind. They told me that I was a terrible player and that every session thus far, I played the character instead of doing things that would help the newbies. I was also apparently annoying and "you shouldn't turn against those in your party". I told the DM I'm sorry they felt that way, but in my mind it wasn't intentional to kill the dude I simply wanted to like give him a warning. The DM said I was teaching the others bad morale and cooperation, and brought up me running during the oneshot and how I doomed everyone else and it was shitty. I felt bad apologized and said I would think about what they said and then thanked them (that's the customer service representative in me lol).

Well the next week was the week prior to our break. I asked what time we were meeting and was told we weren't meeting this week by the DM. Okay that works. Well, turns out they DID meet. I found out after exroyal messaged me and asked if I felt better and what they can do for me. Apparently, DM told everyone I was having a flare up, when I wasnt. I am not a confrontational person, but I texted DM saying I didn't appreciate that they lied and DM replied saying that it was my fault for playing DND the way I did.

As a few of them messaged me individually, so I texted all the members individually and told them I was not sick and stated that DM had told me there wasn't a session.

Well, we decided to meet at my place and not tell DM. We didn't play DND but a board game. DM found out and started calling me an asshole and how they've been accommodating for me with my illness and the sessions, which they have. DM says they made one mistake and am punishing them for it. I have a lot of anxiety and do feel bad now... AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[enteringdullsville]

‘24 was alright, but it’s definitely the Action to ‘23’s Island; stuck having to continue a tough act to follow.

I know I’m skipping Pahkitew Island (and to a lesser extent World Tour) to get to this, but I have a lot of ideas for what I want (but don’t at all expect) for a third season.

First the elephants in the room, the newbies. Assuming season three is full length, 18 contestants is seems like a good cast size. Nick, labeled “The Know-It-All”, is like an unholy cross between Sierra and Dave: He’s seen every episode of this show fifteen times…and he’s already regretting attending. He’s actually an online critic who made the vital mistake of pissing off Chris in front of millions of his (Nick’s) viewers, prompting Chris to personally reach out to invite him onto the show. The fact Nick’s an in-universe character means he’s a lot more fair to the contestants than most fans and critics would be, but he’s still incredibly caustic to everyone with a pulse (and also Scary Girl). Felicity, labeled “The Gamer Junky” combines Sam’s interests and Lindsay’s demeanor…which I guess is just Kitty. More or less the pain magnet for the first half of the season (Damien takes over partway through), Felicity’s a moderately famous streamer with a rapier wit and is almost as athletic and coordinated as Tyler. She’s more straightforwardly a fan of the show, that’s why Chris picked her, but given that her team is a ticking time bomb, she’s gonna hafta work fast.

The teams consist of the Hiding Snakes (Nick, Damien, Julia, MK, Wayne, Raj, Priya, Millie, and Caleb) and the Feral Kittens (Felicity, Nichelle, Bowie, Emma, Zee, Chase, Ripper, Axel, and Lauren).

Episode 1. The cast is dragged kicking and screaming back to wherever the season takes place. Wawanakwa again? The abandoned movie lot? Boney Island? Who knows, but they don’t have to worry about it, since the challenge is solely for the new duo to pick their teams by collecting golden statuettes of the cast. Maybe it is an Action Sequel.

Episode 2. Nick and Felicity both have their work cut out for them. In one corner is Nick, who has to put up with Julia/MK vs Priya and also everyone on his team not named Wayne. On the other corner is Felicity, who has the misfortune of being caught up in a popularity contest: now that Ripper and Axel are dating, Chase feels he and Zee have been left in the dust (Zee has no clue what’s happening), leaving Chase and Axel to bicker endlessly throughout the challenge. Meanwhile, Emma’s finally taking her opportunity to patch things up with Bowie, who himself is more preoccupied with Scary Girl, who’s taking her loss last season about as well as Courtney did in Island. The absurdity of Ripper being forced to play the voice of reason is not lost on him, but it doesn’t save him from elimination by Felicity, Nichelle, Emma, and Bowie to make the arguing stop. I didn’t want to eliminate him so soon, but he made it halfway through two seasons, so it had to be done.

Episode 3. So it turns out sending the one guy keeping Axel in check and Chase from accidentally killing everything packing was not Felicity’s best idea. Feli and Niche bond over poor game decisions (and the fact the latter’s career is starting to pick back up helps too), while Emma and Bowie are now on speaking terms again. Speaking of which, Emma tries to sic Lauren on Chase (he’s voted her off twice now), giving a recap of all the reckless and insane stuff he’s done. Gotta get rid of your distractions while you can. Unfortunately for Ms. People Person, Lauren was nicknamed “Reckless and Insane Girl” before signing up and the two surprisingly hit it off. MEANWHILE BACK AT THE LAB Nick picks up where Bowie left off and commandeers Julia and MK’s cheating skills for the team, much to Priya’s chagrin. Caleb grows worried about Priya’s mental state, but Millie, determined not to screw herself over again, goes with everything she says without question. In the end, Zee goes home, still hopelessly confused about why everyone’s fighting, but at least avoiding any major social gaffes. It’s a good thing he and Ripper merged twice, otherwise I’d really feel like scum.

Episode 4. This one’s a breather, but we don’t have to tell them that. Nick for the first time is divided over his role as a contestant and as a critic. As a contestant, he knows it’s best to keep Julia, Priya, Wayne, and Caleb as close to him as possible (and pats himself on the back for acing the team picking challenge), but as a critic he doesn’t particularly want to keep them around, especially Julia and Priya who pulled a Gweathuncanoey and have stuck around for two seasons in their entirety. He also kinda wants MK and Julia to become an item. On the flip side, since Emma introduced Chase to his demented new bestie, he’s gotten even more crazy himself and spends the entire challenge locked in a dare contest with Nichelle. Emma and Bowie watch on in amusement to take the latter’s mind off of being separated from Raj, while Axel reminisces about simpler times when she was an early boot. Caleb and Millie continue their power quartet with Damien (who has taken it upon himself to start lugging a first aid kit every he goes) and Priya, whose fuse grows shorter than Eva’s.

Episode 5. Caleb should probably know better than to make deals behind Priya’s back by this point, but it’s her own fault for sharing the Bow’s taste in men. Since the final four of the previous season (and also Damien) are all on the same team, Lauren makes her first strategistical move now that she knows the group’s biggest fears. MK proves to be a tougher nut to crack, however, building on the two’s interactions in the 24 finale. Axel and Chase have entered “Cold War” territory and are both trying to gather allies. Emma and Bowie are a given (although the latter can’t promise anything), and Chase has Scary, but Felicity and Nichelle are anyone’s game. Not that it really matters though, since that deal I mentioned was for The Boys (TM) to vote Caleb out, since he doesn’t want to hold Priya back anymore. Priya is crushed, Julia is laughing hysterically, and Damien’s salty that nobody voted him off when he was literally asking for it. I didn’t want to give him the Gwen/Ezekiel treatment where he’s the lowest member of two teams, especially since it means he’s 16th again, but here we are. Curse my impartiality!

Episode 6. Knowing Priya’s going to stick around as long as she has allies, Julia and MK start gunning for Millie, hoping she slips up eventually. Nick, however, secretly chooses to plot against the duo, even though MK is his favorite character from this season, because honestly, who would you pick as an ally? Meanwhile, the Kitty Kold War’s come to a boiling point with Nichelle and Felicity’s votes up for grabs. Bowie’s been on Team Axel, but after suffering a migraine all day decides to join the two wildcards. In the end however, Wayne genuinely asks Axel and Chase why they’re even arguing to begin with. Realizing that Ripper’s already gone by this point, they decide to cooperate this one time…a decision that sends poor Wayne right to the losers’ circle. I wanted to see how long I could keep the Hockey Bros around before I had to eliminate the one who lasted longer last season. At least he still has his sick awesome two buses.

Episode 7. Did somebody say “reward challenge”? With the teams even for the first time since the second episode, the two have to wrangle up old contestants scattered across the lot (I decided this will be the Action reboot), and appropriately it’s the three most frustrating contestants to track down: Shawn for the Kittens (much to zombie slayer Axel’s delight), Dawn for the Snakes (much to tiny Tsundere MK’s horror), and for a bonus, Ezekiel (who Chris has “procrastinated a bit” on retrieving). This one’s more or less an excuse for character growth, so that’s why I’m describing the challenge in a little more detail. Anywho, Dawn, Shawn, and the one whose name doesn’t rhyme are all caught, the Kittens winning. And MK’s secrets are totally safe and not revealed to the public at all. In other news, Dawn and Shawn both want off the lot immediately after finding out Scary Girl’s still on it.

Episode 8. (Sotto Voce) I’m gonna have to eliminate a girl sooner or later. Anywho, the Cold War arc has finally cooled down since even Axel can’t stay mad forever and Chase is too narcissistic to hold a grudge. With the merge coming up, Felicity requests Nichelle train her since her leadership skills can only get her so far at this point. Priya and Millie are taking the opportunity to relax since Julia and MK are still awkward about the secret crush I totally lied about earlier. Maybe they’ll get together, maybe they won’t…but Nick ensures they totally do, if only because he refuses to let his OTP sink…at least not before he takes the opportunity to eliminate MK, who’s both a bigger social threat and less of a physical aid at the moment. I think she’s made it far enough for me not to have to explain her elimination in detail.

Episode 9. With Julia out of allies, she’s gotta either guarantee her team wins, bribe Chris into throwing in another immunity idol, or make one of her teammates look less desirable than her. In unrelated news, Raj is still missing Wayne after I cruelly tore the two apart. Axel’s now in on Nichelle and Felicity’s alliance, meaning Emma and Bowie have to get in their good books before Scary Girl (she’s still plenty mad at him) does what Fang does best. Try as the noble Priyanka and Millicent may, Julia manages to play up Raj’s misery to get Nick and Damien (in a moment of weakness) to vote him off. For whom Raj himself voted, I didn’t think too hard about, but the Snakes are sucking for a team with four different finalists on it. Oh, and Bowie is pissed. TOTAL DRAMA BOMB!

Episode 10. In the final pre merge episode, not much occurs. That dang moon from All-Stars is making Lauren act strange, even by her own standards, and not in a productive way. Bowie throws caution into the wind and goes all out in trying to make sure Julia goes home (don’t have to tell them twice), making Emma realize how tiring it is to have to play damage control to someone else’s revenge schemes. Nichelle takes charge, refusing to get eliminated before the merge again, while Chase gets everything on film. By this point, Millie’s competent enough to single-handedly win this for her team, and also by this point, Scary’s freaked enough people to get voted out. Of course, this isn’t the last we’ll see of her…because she ran off before Chef could apprehend her.

We now interrupt this program to bring you this picture of Team Victory I drew for a follow up to my iconic TDWT/Jellystone animatic. I wasn’t feeling like making a whole video, but I kept the boarded first shot anyway.

Episode 11. Chris has dissolved the teams for one purpose: catch Scary Girl before she tries to reenact the events of Scarlett Fever. To make a long freaking story short, they apprehend her…and Chris decides to go the Dakota route and give her a promotion…to tertiary third host…meaning she has the means to cause even more mayhem. And no, Chase, that doesn’t mean you get to submit challenge ideas.

Episode 12. It’s Scary’s first day on the new job, but Chris insists she “sTaRt SmAlL”. The girls’ alliance approaches Nick, partially to build their numbers but also because Felicity feels it’s only fair she at least tries to build a friendship with the other rookie player. He agrees, but only if he can bring Damien (his best friend on the island and his second favorite character). Bowie and Emma take their chance to get rid of two birds with one stone, since Priya and Julia now have nothing stopping them from maiming each other. And maim, maim, maim they do, since (as you could probably guess by how I highlighted their names), they both get sent packing! Did I deliberately hold off on voting them out solely so they’d reach the merge a third time? Yes. Did I do this because having them be proper enemies instead of rivals like in 23 was entertaining? Yes. Did I also do this to piss off the people complaining they (read: mostly Priya) had too much screen time? YES! Do I love making this fan base cry? You tell me.

Episode 13. Against his alliance’s better judgment, Nick tries to edge Bowie back into active villainy, realizing too late he’s prioritized competent gameplay over plot by getting rid of the main conflict. Unbeknownst to him, Millie has her sights on him, correctly viewing his alleged alliance as suspicious, not to mention him turning against MK a few episodes back. Damien suffers from a terrible disease called “having Scary Girl in your general vicinity”, and to add figurative insult to literal injury has to deal with Chase trying to befriend him at her request. Luckily for everyone, it’s a reward challenge for the final eight.

Episode 14. Nick may have awakened a monster. Trying to stir up drama again, he decides it’s a great idea to set Lauren on Emma, claiming A: that it’s the best way to get his attention, and B: that only she gets to cause him harm. Feeling genuine emotions of protection for the first time in her life, she does all she can to make Emma suffer (even though the latter genuinely doesn’t care what Chase does at this point and is willing to be polite if he doesn’t pull anything). Millie and Bowie put aside their differences to stake out Nick, but of course Bowie has other plans. The girls’ alliance continues to serve and oh would you look at that, Emma’s gone because she’s canonically rich anyway and Scary’s not gonna let up while she’s still on the island. I could’ve made her elimination not Chase related. But I didn’t. Emma deserves better, but this is Total Drama, where we don’t even remotely give a crap.

Episode 15. Bowie’s out of allies and Scary’s still after him, so now he really needs to keep Millie close, and what better way is there than to break up an alliance? Nick’s more than a little suspicious about Millie’s sudden investment about everything he does, prompting Bowie to claim she’s in love with him and can’t communicate it. Nick is doubtful, but the idea behind planted in his mind causes him to catch feelings. Damien, being Nick’s confidant and feeling guilty about how he indirectly screwed Priya and Caleb (and also Zee) last season concerning their romance arc, tries to steer him away from her. Axel and Scary bond a little when they trick out the Sling of Shame, and by that I of course mean they accidentally break it in half. Chris already sold the Drone of Despair, so let’s call this one a draw.

Episode 16. Bowie, now fully back in the groove of things, tries to drive a wedge between Nick and the rest of his alliance, while Nick has some delicious angst over what he should do about his budding feelings, knowing full well that Bowie’s lying to him but failing to realize Millie wants him gone. Felicity pops up for the first time in a while, which in Island would mean she’s going home next (let’s imagine she won immunity last episode) but here means the girls’ alliance goes through its first rough patch when Axel, who’s long since taken over as leader, tests Felicity’s resolve. Unfortunately for Axel, Millie, Bowie, Damien, and Nick view her signature brand of tough love out of context and drop her like Ripper’s parents dropped him.

Episode 17. Ten episodes left and a lucky number seven contestants remain. Chris tells the kids (or are they 18 by now?) upfront that today’s a reward challenge, the prize being a FaceTime with the eliminated contestants. Millie, still wanting answers, and Bowie, wanting to see Raj again, immediately dissolve their alliance. Everyone tries (except Chase, who had a phone the entire time and got to keep it three seasons in a row by not being as obvious as Julia was), but Millie comes out on top, ultimately learning about Nick’s alliance…and his crush. She has the decency to let Raj and Wayne say hi to Bowie. Chase learns something, too…

Episode 18. Nick decides Bowie’s more trouble than he’s worth, but rather than just telling everyone to vote him off (which he predictably finds overused), he decides to play a game of “show, but don’t tell”. So using that as the episode title. He immediately decides to play this on hard mode with the two remaining contestants who have the least amount of beef with him: the fangirl Felicity and the airheaded Chase. Surprisingly, this actually works and Bowie gets sent home, Nick realizing he doesn’t have to rely on others to make drama for him. Millie sees what he’s doing but is confused about his slightly convoluted methods, not helped by Nick’s complete and utter failure to explain himself, by this point completely smitten. Damien notices that Nick’s popularity is fading and decides to lie low for a bit rather than betray him or risk being associated with him.

Episode 19. Reward challenge time? With only Millie, Felicity, Nichelle, Chase, Damien, and himself left, Nick seriously considers playing the main villain. Chase is the odd man out, lacking any sort of alliance and still having sort of a target on his back, but he doesn’t seem too concerned. Millie struggles to approach Nick without breaking his heart, since while he isn’t really her ally, he hasn’t really done much to wrong her. After all, he’s a better partner than opponent.

Episode 20. Every villain has their nemesis, and Nick was not expecting it to be Chase of all people, but Chase outs him before Millie can. Damien sticks by Nick (in silence of course, because he’s still friends with Nichelle and to a lesser extent Felicity), but Millie’s conflicted. Nonetheless, Nichelle and Felicity start gunning for him, breaking up the alliance, and they would’ve gotten away with it too, if Chris didn’t remember sudden death challenges exist. Millie has the misfortune of finishing last and is sent home, but not before she decides to just ask him out, figuring she doesn’t have anything to lose at this point.

Episode 21. Notice a pattern? It’s another reward challenge! Scary Girl’s been in a rut lately, and the challenges have grown dull, so Chris has brought in many of TD’s most terrifying beasts, mutants included back on to spice things up a bit. Even the Dakotazoid returns, half the size she was before but now sporting wings for some reason. I guess mutations evolve. Chase chooses now to start caring about other people, but because it’s Chase it’s doomed to backfire horribly, given that it gives Lauren a wonderfully wicked idea…

Episode 22. …that involves locking people in closets. Specifically Chris and Chef. Scary Girl’s the host today and she’s back and more terrifying than ever. Nick, Nichelle, Felicity, and Chase put aside their differences (not that Felicity ever had issues with any of them) when the challenge becomes “Stop Lauren”. Aaaand now I realize Scarlett Fever was probably recycled from the scrapped episode where Dakota hosted the show after locking Chris and Chef in a closet herself. Anywho, Chase is fired on the spot for starting this whole mess…right before Scary kisses him, resigns, hops on the sling with him, declaring him her “boyfriend for eternity”. Chase has only half a second to process what the freshwater frick just happened before getting flung away.

Episode 23. Can you tell I’m getting tired? Only four remain, split between two alliances who used to be part of a greater one. Nick assures the others it’s nothing personal before things can start. Things happen, hijinks ensue, interns are mauled, but it’s ultimately Nichelle who crosses the finish line last. Better 4th than 12th or 14th. On that note, now we all know Felicity’s gonna be a finalist.

Episode 24. Nick and Damien part ways somewhat amicably, Nick knowing it was bound to happen eventually.

Episode 25. One final breather episode: this one’s just a big pre finale party! Really, the only thing the contestants need to worry about are Chase diving into the cake, Wayne and Raj freezing the pool, and Julia and MK doing their darnedest to bring the mood down.

Episode 26. A simple, no frills finale…is what I’d say if Chris hadn’t brought back every finalist the show has had (including Ezekiel, ostensibly because he got the TDWT prize money, but mostly to squeeze some mayhem in before Zeke’s first therapy meeting), in particular Priya, Bowie, Millie, Wayne, Julia, and Caleb. Damien vs Felicity vs Nick, battle of the nerds! Three go in…one comes out.

[laurarolla]

Arknights dropped the "Babel" event last week and I did actually read through almost all of it (I got interrupted by something partway through the introduction of the Doctor and ended up never reading that cutscene), and it's an interesting mix of various story elements and character histories. What interests me most is our final answer to the origins of the Doctor and the precursors, as well as the purpose of Originium.

The simplest way to describe Originium, as best I can gather, is that it is a possibly primordial element that the precursors discovered/theorized contained a collective universe of consciousness, or could be used for that purpose. Civlight Eterna is an originium art that can tap into this element of Originium to connect to history, providing a potentially perfect understanding to the one using it. This power, passed through the Black Crown, is not unlike the ability of a Newtype, connecting across conciousness through time and without limitations. However, it can also create physical manifestations of power pulled from that history and those connections, as seen with Ying Xiao, Amiya's sword that was created from the memories of Chen's Chi Xiao in Chapter 8.

In an effort to either overcome or escape the threat of some unnamed malevolent force, the precursors created or modified Terra to serve as a garden of Originium, intending to create that collective consciousness for their own ends. The mastermind behind this project, as far as Oracle (the true original Doctor) and Friston have stated is Priestess, who was set up as the next big narrative mystery to solve or explain post-Victoria. The story of Babel shows a version of the Doctor struggling to deal with the moral dilemma created when living, sentient creatures were born on Terra after the start of the experiment.

Kal'tsit went on a whole personal journey to eventually come to the conclusion that the life on Terra has a right to make their own future, and that any of the intentions of the "experiment" should be abandoned. Oracle comes to the same conclusion, with dialouge options the player must specifically click on as they do when speaking for the Doctor in most parts of the story. However, some other voice inside the Doctor's head keeps pushing them to continue the mission, leading to the tragedy of Theresa's murder and Amiya's crowning. Additionally, Theresa took her last moments to destroy the Doctor's memories, an act that Oracle accepts as necessary. It's likely that only be destroying the Doctor's memories could the Doctor be free of Priestess's influence, allowing them to pursue the path that Oracle, their true self and OUR version of the Doctor, would prefer.

Other little highlights of the event for me include: Getting to see Savage in the history of Babel, the Vampire lord continuing to be a repugnant and irredeemable prick, Ascalon defeating a sociopathic enemy by overwhelming his precognition abilities, little Amiya and the Doctor riding a big animal, and Theresis just being the big old complicated walking catastrophe that he's always been.

Oh, and the chain mechanic is pretty awesome, with the EX stages really requiring you to think very carefully about how you need to deploy to actually use the chains effectively. Probably in my top 5 event mechanics in the game overall.

[myechoecho]

Partway through ep 4 of Family by Choice and I thought that San Ha's mom was back trying to make amends. Perhaps she's gone through some serious therapy for the trauma of losing her daughter. Maybe she's in a better place mentally, has a new family and is ready to do what she can to reconcile with San Ha - knowing it would not be easy.

But no, she has the nerve to say she's trying to forgive him. Meaning she still blames him for his sister's death. We don't know what happened exactly but we do know that he was only 8 years old and alone at home with his sister.. Whatever happened has left him with massive trauma, and this was made worse by his mom blaming and abandoning him. He's not at fault.

I further question her motives for reaching out to him now. If she still thinks he killed his sister there is no way she wants him near his half sister. My guess is the grandmother has something to do with it. His mom is not there by choice.

[laudaddysmitten]

GOAD Writer's Guild Presents

"Stunning View" (Ch 3)

by LaudaddySmitten

Ch 3 (finally!): Look At The Stars, Look How They Shine For You

~*~ Happy Season 2 Anniversary everyone! ~*~

I'm finally done with my extremely long fic hiatus, and I'm looking forward to you getting to read the next 4 chapters that are done! This one is THE very science-y (and footnote-y) chapter, with also lots of sweet fluff.

I hope you enjoy it!

🔭 🌗 🥰 🧬 🥼 😇 ❤️‍🔥😈

Summary:

From their vantage point on the grass, and safe from the prying eyes of Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale encourages Crowley to pass the sobering-up time acting as Aziraphale's tour guide of the night sky. Little did he know how some of the info would affect each of them.

Excerpt:

“They are also binary, but instead of just being two stars orbiting one another, this is two entire galaxies.”

Crowley cleared his throat and became very expressive with his hands, the two of them demonstrating with unsteady swirls and arcs the hypothetical paths of the two far off galaxies.

“Instead of two stars orbiting one another in nice stable ellipses, two galaxies circle and weave around irregularly, passing closer and farther and closer, until they eventually…”

Here, Crowley paused to look over with hands frozen in the air, and Aziraphale’s throat clenched with anticipation despite himself, the pull of Crowley's antics born of enthusiasm too great to resist. “...Collide!”— Ppfffwhooo! — and combine!"

Crowley smashed his fists together, fingers flourishing outward in time with his explosive sound effects, a riotous display he performed on a lopsided loop with joyful abandon. Aziraphale idly wondered how much of Crowley's demonstration was actually scientifically accurate(^), and how much was influenced by laudanum.

(^)Footnote: Aziraphale would be pleased to know that Crowley's hand motion demonstration was approximately 78.35% accurate.

“So for now, they're partway through the process, so all the matter, like gas, and dust, and bigger stuff too! Asteroids, planets, and stuff— that is floating around out there just follows them everywhere.” Crowley beamed at Aziraphale, his voice rising with excitement as he drew a spiral emerging from one of his galaxy-hands in the air above them. “They’re positioned such that the galaxies and all the spirals and clouds of matter together form what looks like a heart!” He sobered slightly but was still grinning. “Not, ya know, an anatomical human heart. But the human-invented simple shape they use to represent a heart and…” Aziraphale swallowed at the same time Crowley weakly cleared his throat. “And love.”

“Oh!” Aziraphale said a little breathlessly. “That sounds absolutely lovely!”

Crowley’s erratic arms fell gently back to the ground. The side of his pinkie happened to lightly press up against Aziraphale's. Neither of them moved away. All of Aziraphale's mental focus was on that point of contact.

Continue reading on AO3:

♥️♥️ Thanks to my VERY patient beta readers ♥️♥️ @olfactoryventriloquism , @outrageousring5655 , @happynachohologram

Astrophysics beta (yep, needed one of those, got the best, and this is THE chapter): @nosferatini

Human Anatomy & Physiology beta: @unapologetic-apathy

@goodomensafterdark thanks for all the support and encouragement! Thanks to the Writer's Guild for being awesome and helpful and tolerating me in chat, lol. ❤️‍🔥

Other Guild chapter 3 beta help: @sixbynine-da @ghst-signal @adverbian

Art banner by @lexarturo (and this is finally the chapter that has the exact moment it portrays!)