#if i'd quit a week or two or three ago none of this would be my problem

[inkskinned]

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

[some-stars]

not sure what this is or if it's part of an actual story but here, have 500 words of soft poolverine co-sleeping, why not.

--

The first night Logan shares a bed with Wade, he sleeps like the dead out of pure exhaustion. So does Wade, as far as he can tell, because when Logan stumbles dry-mouthed and confused into consciousness well past noon the next day, Wade's still passed out and drooling onto his pillow. It's not until the second night that things get back to normal--normal, in Logan's case, being the nightmares that rattle him awake every couple of hours, every muscle in his body clenched tight.

He hasn't given any thought whatsoever to what normal might be for Wade, but lying there soaked in sweat and trying to breathe his pulse gradually back down to something that doesn't hurt his chest means he has a front row seat to Wade twitching, muttering, jerking, and generally seeming to have a pretty shit time. After a minute or two, watching him like that starts to feel uncomfortably like none of Logan's business, so he rolls over and tries to fall back asleep. It's hard to ignore, especially when Wade lets out a low whine like a hurt dog right as Logan's on the edge of drifting off again. But he manages eventually.

It happens again the next night, and the next, so it's clear that this is just a fact Logan knows now about his new roommate, among the other facts he's accumulating. Wade watches cartoon porn in the living room in the middle of the day; Wade asks for "Thai hot" when they order takeout and actually likes it that way; Wade's liquor cabinet is stocked with two dozen flavored vodkas and three kinds of Kahlua and nothing else; and Wade sleeps bad. He never seems to wake up from whatever bad dreams he's having, though, or at least Logan never sees it happen. He wishes Wade would wake up. Logan knows how much worse it is to be trapped in the nightmare.

It gets harder and harder to ignore. A couple weeks in, after jerking awake from his own dream to find his left claws halfway out and buried in his pillow--if they'd come out all the way they'd be stuck in his own fucking face, so at least he's not dealing with that--Logan finally snaps. Wade's mumbling something incoherent that sounds from the tone like a plea, and his face is streaked with tears, and Logan's too tired to think about what he's doing when he scoots over next to Wade and wraps his arm around him, pulling him in close. 

Wade does wake up then, lifting his face from Logan's chest and meeting Logan's eyes with his own, wide and worried. "What--" It comes out as a hoarse whisper. "What are you...are we cuddling?"

He sounds genuinely confused, not even awake enough to make a joke. "Go back to sleep," Logan tells him, and closes his eyes.

After a couple seconds, Wade relaxes against him. "Okay," he says, agreeable and content like Logan's never heard him when he's awake. Maybe ten seconds later he's out again, breathing deep and even, soft in Logan's arms. The easy rhythm of it is hypnotic. Logan falls asleep and stays that way until morning.

--

tumblr hid the first version of this post because apparently i used a Naughty Word in the tags, but they refused to tell me WHICH word and just suggested i "change the tags around a bit" and see if that helped. which i can't even do, because of course a post from seventeen hours ago isn't going to show up in the Recent Posts view in the tag whether or not it's tagged with the Forbidden Term. so here are the original tags and if anyone is still giving any money at all to tumblr, i am BEGGING you to quit.

#the original plan was porn but i realized i'd need more groundwork for that#if this does turn into a story it's going to lead to logan offering to get wade off to help him get back to sleep#and wade who is still fuzzy and dumb from nightmare-brain agreeing to it#so logan spoons him and jerks him off and when wade comes he kisses the back of his neck and they both fall asleep very quickly and easily#then the next morning wade wakes up with his dick out and logan (still asleep) rutting lazily against his ass#and then. idk tbh. haven't gotten that far

[starks-hero]

Concerning Lockley

A 3rd installment to the Smoke and Mirrors series.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: A year has passed since the events in Cairo and two things cannot remain hidden for much longer; the truth and a third alter.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon-divergence, revolves around Marc and Steven's past so implied child abuse, lightly implied smut, descriptions of violence, language (but it's me so that's almost a given)

a/n: A criminally late third installment to Smoke and Mirrors/The Truth is Rarely Kind. It's fairly heavy so I'd recommend reading the first two chapters for context. Anyway, guess who's finally arrived? 😏

You had grown fond of the night. The peace, the silence. The temporary comfort that, even just for a little while, things would be okay. Well aquatinted with the early hours, you woke to see them hit the clock almost religiously; every night without fail.

Every night since Cairo.

Sleep was something you'd forsaken. The few hours of rest you did manage to steal were few and far between and when you did manage to drift off your guilt followed you into your dreams. It seemed that was all you ever felt anymore; an overwhelming, crushing sense of guilt that never went away. 

You'd started making a cup of tea some time ago, (five minutes perhaps? enough time for the boiling water to cool, now a comforting warmth radiating through the ceramic.) It was another sanctum in your ritual, the action almost bringing more comfort than the drink itself. The steam kissing your hands and drifting through your fingers in playful wisps, the hypnotic sound of the spoon gliding against the ceramic edges of the mug.

Your hand stilled and your breath hung idle in your chest; a moment later two arms settled around your waist with a gentle squeeze and a yawn muffled against your shoulder. 

"Alright, love?"

Steven spoke the words into your neck. They were gentle and warm, just like the rest of him. There's a certainty in how he holds you to him and you quit stirring your tea in favour of supporting yourself against the counter. You fear your knees will give way, from the lack of sleep or guilt, you can't tell. His nose ran the length of your jaw and you offered a quiet hum in response to his earlier question.

"What are you doing up, ey?" His voice is breathily quiet, softening at the end as it would when he spoke to a child or small animal. Something he was worried he'd frighten. His hands, feather-light in their movement, traced down your arms until his fingers brushed the swell of your wrists. Intertwining your fingers, he brought your joint hands to your chest and pressed down. It was a grounding, comforting weight.

I'm here. I've got you.

You took several deep breaths, each somewhat steadier than the last. You swallowed down the sand that seemed to have formed at the back of your throat; dry and scratchy.

"Couldn't sleep," you answered truthfully.

Steven had waited patiently for your answer. He was always so patient. He'd been patient during the three weeks you'd scarcely spoken to them after Cairo, and patient still during the outbursts that followed when you did start talking to them again. And how could he blame you? Dying and coming back again was bound to have that effect. The entire dying situation was something that had been quickly placed in the red zone (extremely triggering and not to be talked about,) and after an exceptionally explosive episode with Marc over it, none of you were eager to revisit it.

Steven wasn't even certain you remembered your time in limbo, but if you did you didn't talk about it and he didn't pry.

"Come back to bed, yeah? I'll stay up with you till you doze back off."

He did know that you didn't sleep anymore. Not really. On more than one occasion he'd wake in the early hours to find you sat by the door or perched by the window, something sharp in hand. Harrow, by some miracle, hadn't come looking for you yet, but you planned on being ready when he did. 

Steven and Marc could feel the anxiety that practically hung above your head like a black cloud of miserable smog. The thought of Harrow and his goons finding the ushabti and following through with their plans was one that haunted you. A fact made clear by your desire to, in your own words, 'find the deepest, most ancient well known to man and chuck the damned thing down there.' But dealing with people set on genocide called for something more permanent and Layla had assured you she had it handled.

You didn't doubt her but it didn't make you feel any more at ease either.

You focused on the weight of Steven's hands against your chest instead and took another steadying breath. You agreed to go back to bed, if anything just to ensure Steven got a few more hours of sleep. You would fake it, you'd gotten good at it too.

He kept your hand in his as he led you back to bed. The tea abandoned on the counter eventually went cold.

You awoke to Marc, his lean arms barely brushing the expanse of your stomach, hand resting openly against your waist. You always knew the difference, knew who you'd woken up to. Steven held you like you would turn to dust and Marc held you like you were made of glass.

His hold on you tightened as he woke, that subconscious urge to keep you at arm's length crumbling. He kissed your head, your neck and then the expanse between the blades of your shoulders, his hands reverent as they traced your skin.

He made love to you differently since Cairo. It was slower and methodical, that desperation and fear that had been there before was long gone and there was a certainty now. He was more sure of himself, of you and of what you were to each other.

You rested in a comfortable silence afterwards, the air still warm and sweet and the sheets grounding against your trembling body.

Marc was a work of art beside you and for the briefest of moments you could understand why Khonshu chose him. He was made to be divine, to be godly.

His eyes had lightened a shade, as they tended to do when he was unfocused and staring into nothing. It was something only you'd noticed; the way the dark chestnut brown turned amber, almost pools of honey in the morning light now.

You traced his temple and he turned to you, taking the time to plant a kiss to your wrist. Right above the gentle beating of your heart. You temporarily worried that he'd feel your guilt in how your pulse drummed irregularly against his lips. You always felt guilty when he touched you softly. Knowing what you did you felt you didn't deserve it.

Your anxiety must have bled into your expression and Marc mistook it for worry.

“I'm alright,” he said. “It's just… quiet.” He traced his forehead and looked back at the ceiling. It was an observation he'd made several times in the last few months. His thoughts weren't as loud and his head didn't feel as crowded, no longer bursting and tearing at the seams. You supposed that made sense, now that a homicidal bird was no longer among his mind's residence.

You drifted with your thoughts until a gentle nudge from the man beside you brought you back to earth. His brows were furrowed subtly, trying not to give away that he knew something wasn't quite right.

“Baby–”

“I'm fine.” The words were so rushed they tumbled over each other as they left your tongue. You doubted Marc would have understood you at all if it weren't for how many times you'd parroted the phrase in the last few months.

Marc sighed and wrinkled his nose. “Steven doesn't believe you.”

“And you?”

“I think you're a bad liar,” he added. It wasn't accusatory, quite the opposite. “What's going on?”

The rehearsed lines came naturally. “I'm just tired.”

He seemed disappointed by your answer but said nothing. Another fifteen minutes in bed and Marc got up to start his morning routine and you prepared to keep up your masquerade for another day. You knew your lines as well as the part you had to play. It was all second nature now.

A week later you decided that you were going to tell them.

It wasn't the guilt that drove you to it in the end, not exactly. You'd been dealing with that for long enough. Rather it was the humbling realisation that this was no longer about you. It wasn't about how you spent every waking moment thinking about what you'd seen. How every time Marc laughed you envisioned the child that spent his birthdays either alone or berated. Or how each time Steven touched you softly you thought of the little boy cowering from his mother. 

No, it was about Marc and Steven and the fact that they deserved to know. And if your relationship was the price to be paid for them to have their truth then so be it.

But just because you'd made the decision by no means meant you were handling it well.

��Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cursed with each step as you did laps of the kitchen. You'd started pacing just after Steven left for his shift and you were certain you could pace for the rest of the night if you needed to. A hieroglyphic on the patterned rug Steven had bought had noticeably worn down beneath your feet. 

You'd tried to rehearse something, gone as far as writing out bullet points and trying to convert them into something that resembled a speech. But all that came out of it was a bin full of crumpled-up paper and an even deeper pit where your stomach should be.

You passed the fish tank for what felt like the ninety-ninth time and stopped to glance at its resident. Gus seemed about as interested in the current affairs as a goldfish could be.

“How do you feel about staying with me on the weekends?” You asked. A single bubble left the fish's mouth in reply. “Gods, I'm losing it.”

Your heart near burst from its ribbed prison as the doorbell sounded three clanging chimes of doom. Your anxiety was so off the charts you were certain anyone nearby with a radioactivity monitor would be recording some cataclysmic event with your apartment as ground zero.

You employed every shred of willpower you had to get your legs to move you towards the door and opened it with such a convincing smile you should have been handed a bafta then and there.

“Hiya, love!” Already unsteady on your feet, the absolute, unabashed optimism in Steven's voice nearly had you keeling over.

He barreled forward past the threshold, a well-aimed kiss landing on your cheek and a bouquet of pink carnations brushing your chest.

“Picked these up for you on the way home,” he quipped easily as if the gesture came as easy to him as buying the milk. The bouquet was so large you had to employ both hands to hold it. The petals were so picturesque they almost seemed fake and the stems were a healthy green. The stall vendor had cared for them so well.

Steven hadn't stopped talking, not even as he removed his work clothes, electing instead to keep telling you about how the vendor had told him of the variety of colours carnations came in and their individual meanings but that he chose pink just because they were pretty–

“And I thought maybe we could go out tonight, grab something nice to eat. It's been a while since we've– everything alright, love?”

Still staring at the flowers, you hadn't realised you hadn't looked at Steven once. And he'd read you like a book.

“Do you not like them? Is it the colour–”

“No, no, Steven, they're beautiful.” You rushed. “It's–” That awful sensation of pressure began to coil around your neck and you struggled to swallow. Every thought spilled from your mind like water through a bullet-riddled tin can. “I just–”

In three quick strides, Steven was upon you, hands rising slowly to cradle your face. “Hey, hey now, it's alright. Had a long day?”

Something close to a whimper caught in your throat. You'd had a long few months. 

You closed your eyes and focused on the soft press of Steven's palms against your skin, how his fingers brushed your jaw and thumb was ceaseless in its comforting movements across your cheek.

You took a steadying breath, Steven praising you as you did, and in the moment of silence that followed you felt the extra presence. That there were two bodies in the room but three people. That reminder of Marc served as a final shove.

“I need to tell you something.” The words were so long coming you felt your lungs almost give out under the weight of them. “The both of you.”

Steven's gaze softened, not an inkling of fear to be found despite your troubled expression. There was no doubt or worry he'd done something, only that certainty he'd carried himself with over the last number of months. 

You thought about telling them your 'heinous crime' was breaking Steven's favourite mug and then he'd laugh and act offended regarding the remark Marc would have made about Brits and their tea. Then the three of you would go to bed and nothing bad would happen, nothing would change– 

“I'm here, Marc too. We're both listening.”

“Back in Cairo–” A breath. Now or never. “Khonshu showed me something. I know it sounds ridiculous but when Harrow shot me– when I died and before I came back, Khonshu– he showed me your past. He showed me everything. And I've wanted to tell you for so long, I should have told you–”

His hands fell from your face and without the anchor of his touch, you felt yourself sway. When he took a cautious step back your heart capsized. You wanted to follow him but guilt and fear had fused your feet to the floor in equal measure.

“Steven please, I didn't want to hurt you. Marc, I–”

His eyes fell closed and your chest felt like it was caving in atop your lungs as you waited for them to open. Waited to see Steven, eyes innocent and confused and knowing you'd have to tell him that everything he was came from something so awful. Or waited for Marc, eyes clouded and full of anger. Your entire life hung by a thread and at this rate, you wondered if cutting it yourself would be a kinder act.

They had every right to be angry after all, every right to hate you. Having someone poking around in your head without permission was such a nonsensical thing to have happen that you couldn't think of a single reaction that wouldn't be warranted.

After what felt like hours, his eyes opened. 

But it wasn't Marc. And it wasn't Steven. 

It was a dull, far-off stare; tired eyes regarding you from beneath hooded lids. 

You dared not move. It wasn't just the eyes but his entire body that was different, the way he carried himself. A tired smirk pulled at his lips and this stranger, this intruder in their body, seemed to have caught on to your realisation. He turned his back on you and walked towards the kitchen without a word.

His footsteps were lighter than Steven's and heavier than Marc's and his shoulders remained squared as if ready for a fight. And for a worrying moment, you thought maybe he was. 

You stayed as you were, moving only a few inches to keep him in sight whilst still within bolting distance of the door. It was a terrifying thought, having to run from someone that looked like them.

 The intruder opened the cabinet below the sink and pulled out a shoulder of whiskey you didn't know was there. The broken seal and missing liquor as well as how casually he grasped the bottleneck in his hand told you this wasn't his first indulgence. 

Opening the second cupboard to the left, (how did he know where everything was?) he retrieved two short whiskey glasses and placed them on the counter, the bottle presented in the middle almost decoratively.

He looked to you, then to his alcoholic display, then back to you expectantly. Against all better judgment, you joined him at the counter. You hoped he couldn't notice the sweat at your brow. 

“I don't know if you drink,” he said and his voice knocked the wind out of you. It was so foreign, coming from his mouth; like hearing the brass notes of a trumpet come from a clarinet. “But I think you might want one for this.”

You regarded him as one might do an unwanted guest, cautionary and with no shortage of distrust for this stranger wearing your boys' face. 

“Who are you?” he didn't answer. “Where's Marc and Steven?”

His brow twitched in a move you took for unamused disapproval. Ignoring your questions, he generously topped his cup and downed it all at once before pouring himself another and this time including you in the debauchery. You didn't trust your hand enough to lift the glass from the tabletop. You hoped he hadn't noticed how you were shaking.

His eyes set on you and his head tilted to the side. You were sure, rather you hoped, it was a harmless gesture but feeling as small as you felt it was hard to receive it as anything but predatory.

There was a stretch of silence that lasted so long you felt yourself losing your nerve, then–

“Three's.” He said, grasping his glass loosely. “All good things come in three's. You heard that one before, carino?” He lifts his pointer from the glass and tilts it in your direction.

If it weren't for the fact he was suddenly speaking Spanish you might have found the strength to answer. You anxiously toyed with your glass and you were certain he caught the tremble in your fingers.

Scared as you were, the fear was slowly melting into frustration as the absence of Marc and Steven became more pronounced with each passing second.

“You're not Marc.” He shook his head. “And you're definitely not Steven.” Another slow shake of agreement. “Then who are you?”

“People with big houses buy big guard dogs to keep them safe.” He took another swig of his drink. “Let's say I'm this house' guard dog, I keep things safe. And since you joined our little fiesta, that includes you.” 

You tried to swallow the information but found yourself choking on it instead. There was a third.

Your mind was near bursting, cracking and fissuring at the revelation. An hour ago you had convinced yourself that you were ready for whatever was to come, ready to change the trajectory of your life for the worst all in the name of both what was right and your love for Marc and Steven. But by the universe and all the gods within, this was not what you were expecting. The thought that Marc and Steven had been keeping this, keeping him from you was an unwelcome one. You could understand it of course, but the notion that you’d all been keeping practically life-altering secrets from one another left you feeling uneasy.

“Relax,” he said, and either the body's skills were interchangeable or you really were just easy to read. “They weren’t lying to you.”

The length of time you spent processing the information proved enough for him to finish his drink with another five seconds of wiggle room. 

“They don’t know?”

He shook his head and for the first time all night, he took his eyes off you. “And we’re going to keep it that way. They won’t find out about me, or Khonshu, or that little stunt back in Cairo-”

Your blood ran cold, freezing water flooding your veins. “How did you-?”

The movement of his mouth fell somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

“Khonshu told me to give you his compliments. You’re the first person in decades he’s done that to whose brain hasn’t turned to sand and come out their ears.” You stopped breathing. “That, and that he wishes you could have been there when we put three bullets in Harrow’s skull.” You rose so quickly the chair fell away behind you and your drink toppled. He kept a good hold on his own glass, ignoring the spilt liquor seeping into the timber. He didn’t seem concerned as you backed away from him.

“What the fuck did you do?” The words burned as you spoke them, leaving your throat hoarse. All the fear and confusion had warped into a horrified anger so palpable that your body trembled to withstand it. “What did you do?”

“What I had to.” He rose to meet you, in tone and stature. “To keep this safe-” he motioned his arm around at the apartment. “-And to keep this together.” This time his hand motioned between you and him. No, not him. The body.

“They have a right to know.” You bite the words out harshly, the tears of frustration welling in your eyes only making you more intimidating.

“They have a right to some peace.” His answers came quick and concise, as if he had them memorised like a well-versed script. “I think that’s something we can both agree on.”

Your lips parted with the promise of an argument but the absolutely overwhelming weight of the conversation crested and swept you away before you got the chance.

“They don’t want to be avatars anymore, that’s fine. They can stay here and keep playing house and happy families and I’ll do what has to be done. All you have to do is keep it that way. Now, I’m going to leave and when you open the door again it will be to one of them. And you’ll smile and act like everything is fine and the three of you will get on with things as if nothing happened. Understood?”

“And what about you?” You doubted the walls of any courtroom had ever heard a tone as accusatory as the one you’d just employed.

He made a brief noise of amusement before raising his head to look down on you and it was again made clear that this man couldn’t have been any more of a stranger.

“Some dogs are meant to be kept on a short leash.” 

With that, and leaving a deepening cavern beneath your ribs, he started for the door. You tried to breathe, tried to speak, tried to stop yourself from throwing your heart up. He swiped the bouquet of carnations from the desk as he went; Steven was prone to daydreaming, all he had to do was reset the scene. 

“Wait,” you managed as he turned the handle. If you were going to even entertain going along with this sick, twisted theatre of lies then you deserved to know who you were performing with. “Who are you really?” 

He grinned, apparently sharing the sentiment. “Jake,” he said, the sound like water on hot coals. “Jake Lockley.”

And then he was gone, leaving you to rehearse your appreciation of carnations and the colour pink.

Thank you so much for reading!

Smoke and Mirrors tag list: @bakerstreethound @crazydavefromplantsvszombies @admin-in-residence @bibli0thecary @mischiefmanaged71 @hoemadegrace @the-great-imagines-of-1812 @lokiedokiee @linkpk88 @theconsultingdoctor10 @jamiethenerdymonster @ponyboys-sunsets @shirukitsune @stwrawr @spectorsvoid @slytherheign @spideysimpossiblegirl @bored-as-hell-666 @marimarvelfan @stanmixtapes @stevenwith-av @buckys-other-punk @evienorville @stilllivindue2spite @daughterofthequeen @alotofsomething @niname92 @angelstark16 @child-of-the-moon-gods @interactive-brain @le3h4 @cutiecoww @heeheeeeeesblog

[mercurialmalcontent]

Spoiler-free DA:TV Review

tl;dr -- I thought it was fantastic.

When I found out we were really for real getting a new Dragon Age game, I was interested but not excited. It had been ten years since DAI released and I'd made my peace with us never getting another one years ago, so my reaction was oh, that's cool, maybe I'll get it on sale later. As release came closer and I saw more about the game I got more interested, enough so that when I suddenly had some spare cash I decided I'd get it on release after all.

I ended up barely able to put it down for two solid weeks.

The Dragon Age writing team wove together all the many, many story threads they spun out over the previous three games into one glorious tapestry. None of the story felt like it came out of nowhere or any sort of gotchya, but that it was carefully and expertly crafted into what unfolded before my eyes.

The story is also focused in a way that Origins and DAI were not. No more meandering aimlessly around a map or ultimately pointless fetch quests; every sidequest ties into the story and has direct results… as do your decisions. There will be things that come back to haunt you, because all hard decisions have consequences, after all.

The rest is under a cut for length.

On a character level, for once I didn't feel like any of the companions were extraenous. They're all integral in their areas of expertise and, as far as I could tell in one lengthy playthrough, all have a lot of reactivity to one another (and apparently other non-companion NPCs). It's worth switching your party up regularly and going back to base after every quest to see who's chatting with who and who has new things to say to you. I'm absolutely certain I missed a ton of stuff because I'd get so caught up in questing and exploring and didn't return to base often in early game.

For the player character, Rook is less of a blank slate than the Inquisitor or HoF, but more of one than Hawke. They very much have a base personality suited to someone who can build trust and lead a team, but you have a lot of flexibility in how to express that. Mimir, for example, I played as largely stoic and decisive with a few places he was pushed into a snarling rage, but when he independently acted a little goofy and awkward after building up some trust with his team, it still made sense -- after all, how is he going to build trust if he can't unclench once in a while? I played into that in his more vulnerable moments and it worked really well for me.

I was also delighted that his background came into play far, far more frequently than I could have guessed. I chose Mourn Watch because it sounded interesting, but I had my doubts about how tied into the story it would really be. However, I got quite a few Mourn Watch-specific responses and a TON of dialogue whenever anything to do with their domain came up. Mimir was able to talk shop extensively with the Mourn Watch companion and it felt like they understood each other on a deeper level, especially coming from a culture considered weird and creepy by most of Thedas. (Some players may still find Nevarran customs weird and creepy, but personally I thought they handled death in an interesting and respectful way.)

Rook's race also plays a part in how they participate in conversations. Mimir is an elf, and while I got the occassional elf-specific option, he would often indepedently speak from an elvish perspective in relevant conversations. I really enjoyed him feeling like a part of the world without me having to make it happen.

As far as the moment-to-moment gameplay goes, I had a great time. Maps were fun to traverse, with multiple levels and full of (relatively simple but still satisfying) puzzles to get to hidden areas and secret chests. There are some jumping puzzles, but they're pretty forgiving (if you almost-but-don't-quite make a jump, Rook will grab on and haul themself up) and there's no fall damage; any fall that would have killed you just respawns you where you jumped. Maybe this takes the 'stakes' out for some people, but I'm glad they cut out the annoyance.

The combat is fast and fun, if a little frantic once the game starts throwing five to ten enemies at you at once. (I recommend playing with a controller if you can.) I went straight Adventurer (normal) difficulty and only had to use a revive a handful of times, but there's a lot of customization so you can tweak things to get gameplay you prefer. (There's also a wealth of other accessibility options too; the fixed point always on screen saved me from constant motion sickness.) If you don't want to change difficulties but still struggle, check your build; you can redo your point allocation for free any time outside of combat. I started having a hard time with my scattershot choices at around level 20, but when I refunded my points and went straight for a specialization before branching out, I was suddenly hitting a lot harder.

While I do have my nitpicks, they're pretty inconsequential. I only have two real gripes -- one is that it's not entirely clear when you're going to a one-time-only map. Unfortunately these maps are also littered with treasure and codex entries that you'll miss forever if you skip them. Being on an ostensibly time-sensitive mission but knowing you're going to miss a bunch of stuff if you don't explore is a buzzkill.

The other is more petty but still really annoyed me, and that's that enemies can block your attacks even when you're standing directly behind them. I thought maybe I was reading the screen wrong until J watched me play a bit and asked, "Uh, why was he able to block you from behind??" Good question! I grumbled "This doesn't happen in Elden Ring" far too often.

I'll be playing the game again at least a couple more times; I'm really interested in seeing how the story feels from the perspective of other races and factions, and I always have a good time in taking a closer look at how the story falls into place once I know how it plays out.

[think-dry-thoughts]

Here's the werewolf omo I promised. Sorry if the formatting sucks, I'm copying from my notes on mobile.

Connor stepped out of his truck onto the crisp fall leaves below him. One whiff into the air made him nervous, but he knew he had to be here. Connor had to make a good first impression with this pack, especially since he was freshly bitten didn't have one to belong to on his own. As much as he hated the idea, he knew his wolf would be in better control in a pack, and so he swallowed his pride and drove into their territory to try to make peace.

Connor didn't really know what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. He had met with (and swiftly been rejected by) many other packs before, and none of them had lived like this. Most other packs had a home base, anywhere from a full neighborhood to at least an RV or two, but this was just a clearing in the woods with tents and a few sleeping bags scattered about. Connor's heart dropped a bit at the sight of it, not because he was disappointed in the arrangement, but because he needed something that he knew they didn't have. His bladder clenched a bit and he sighed, slamming his truck door shut and walking out into the property.

A few werewolves looked up at Connor, some of them looking a little more confused than others. Maybe it was the way he looked, which was way too nice to fit in with the majority of the people here, or maybe it was that his scent was just foreign. Connor knew that either way, he didn't belong. An older man stepped out from one of the tents and walked up to Connor.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Connor said, holding out his hand to greet the other man, "I've heard so much about your pack."

The other man raised an eyebrow at him before clearing his voice. "This isn't my pack. You must be the guy Levik's expecting."

Connor, a little embarrassed, dropped his hand and tucked it into his pocket. His first impression with a pack member and he'd already blown it. He thought for a second about cutting his losses and leaving, but the older man spoke up again.

"Levik is out patrolling the territory line, you can wait here if you'd like, I'd hate for you to have to hike out there," he said, sounding a little passive aggressive.

"It's okay," Connor retorted, "I'll head out there and see if I can find him."

Off he went into the woods, leaving the older man and his pack members to stare at Connor as he walked along. Not very long later, he passed the tree line, and wondered if he should just go back to his truck. He felt a little in over his head here, and frankly, his bladder was sitting a little more heavily than he would've liked. Nonetheless, Connor needed the approval of at least one pack before he turned again. His first time had been just three weeks ago, and it was unexpected and horribly out of control. He needed to find a pack that could help him control himself.

Connor pressed along through the trees, making his way over a few rock ranges and down past a river, where he decided to take a break. He sat on a rock, and despite the fullness of his bladder, he realized how tired and thirsty he truly was. He took a glance at the river, its crystal clear water babbling and rushing down through the forest.

"It couldn't hurt," Connor thought to himself. "After all, I am a werewolf."

Connor got down by the water, kneeling down and drinking it straight from the river with his hands. The water was so sweet and refreshing, he realized how thirsty and tired the trek had really made him, and he sipped on the water for quite some time before leaning against a tree to rest a bit.

He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but when Connor awoke, he noticed two things. It was pitch black outside, and his bladder had gone from full to practically throbbing. He realized he had slept at least a few hours, and he had no idea how to get back to his truck. Even with his heightened senses, everything looked the same out here, and speaking of heightened senses, he could feel his bladder screaming against his pants. He stood up, the pressure dropping even lower into his abdomen, and held himself for a minute before he was collected.

Connor thought for a moment about peeing on a tree, just letting it out right there, but the wolf inside him screamed at him not to. This wasn't his territory, and therefore, marking it could be dangerous. He would just have to hold it. He sniffed the air, trying to decide what direction to head in, and smelled neutral air from what he thought was not too far ahead. At least if he got to the neutral territory, he could hang out there for the night and actually relieve his bladder, but in here, he didn't have any idea what he was in for.

Connor pressed forward toward the smell, walking way more slowly than he had earlier in the day. His belt dug into his bladder, making every step absolutely agonizing, and since he was coming up from the river bank, the rocky path did not make it any easier. Connor loosened his belt slightly, just one hole. It felt a little better, but his body wasn't any less angry with him. He couldn't possibly loosen his belt anymore, though. If another wolf approached him in the woods and saw him with his belt undone, god knows the impression he'd make would be enough to have him kicked out at the very least.

As the walking went on, Connor began to wonder how far the territory line could really be. It had smelled so close, but he also hadn't been accounting for his enhanced sense of smell, especially at night. He started to wonder if it wouldn't just be faster if he turned around and went for the truck, but he had made up his mind now and his bladder wasn't really letting him change it. Connor pressed on, the pangs from his bladder going from a quiet whisper to a full on scream. He needed to go, and very soon, but he didn't know if he'd be able to make it out.

In his preoccupied state, Connor didn't see a log in his path, and he tripped over, landing flat on his stomach, sending waves of desperation through his body and chills down his spine. Fuck. He couldn't hold it anymore. He scrambled to his feet, his shaky hands unbuckling his pants. He was going to do this here, right in the forest.

He ripped his dick out of his pants, willing himself to go, but he couldn't. His wolf wouldn't let him, not on someone else's territory. He forced down on his bladder, pushing hard against it with his fist and squeezing with all his might, and he was able to produce one perfect stream. The wolf smelled the urine instantly, and forced him to stop instantly, sending a stabbing pain back into Connor's abused bladder. He tried with all his might to start up again, but it was like the wolf had a grasp on his bladder and wouldn't let it loose. He had to get to the territory line, and fast.

With shaky legs, Connor scrambled as quickly as he could, which was a hobbling walk, trying his best to clear the property line. His bladder screamed with every step, and he could feel the piss in his dick, but his body just wouldn't let it out. At this point, he'd be okay with just pissing his pants, as long as he could get the fullness to go away. He was so full, so fucking full. Tears began to stream down Connor's face as he slowly made his way toward the line.

Up in the distance, he finally saw it. At first, he thought it was a desperation induced mirage, but as he got closer, he realized it was real. There was a fence marking the property line. He was so close. In his joy, he dashed toward the line, his body screaming and a few drops of urine escaping, filling his senses with dread and joy at the same time. He got to the fence and realized that fuck, he needed to get over. If he could just scale the fence, he would be free. With his hands glued to his dick, though, and his knees practically sewn together, he knew there was just no way. He was truly trapped. Connor tried to let go, but his hands just couldn't stay away, and he tried to climb, but his legs were just too weak. It hurt so bad and he just needed the relief that was seconds away.

After a few attempts, Connor's legs gave out, and he fell to the floor, shaking and death gripping his dick for the last ounces of relief it gave him. He suddenly heard the snap of a twig behind him, and knew another wolf had found him. He could smell those few drops of piss in his pants, and remembered that he had spread his scent on the ground not too far back. He knew he was going to be punished. And yet, a firm but comforting hand rested on his shoulder and a soothing voice spoke up.

"Are you okay, friend?" the voice asked. "Why are you crying?"

"It fucking HURTS," Connor cried out through his sobs. "I'm sorry about the scent but I had to find Levik and I fell asleep and FUCK. It just hurts, please."

"You found me," the voice claimed, and the man stepped into view. This was the pack leader, and the anger Connor had expected to see on his face was actually just replaced with concern.

"What's hurting you?" Levik asked calmly.

Connor looked up at him with teary eyes, still grasping painfully at his cock and grinding his legs together to stop the throbs from his protesting bladder.

"I just, I don't want to ruin your territory," he mumbled, "but I just- nnghhh- I-"

Levik said nothing, but knelt down in front of the bursting werewolf and began to undo his belt. He unbuttoned Connor's pants, and pulled the zipper down swiftly.

"Is it okay if I take your pants down for you?" Levik asked.

"Please," Connor begged, "please help me, I have to pee, please!"

Connor's shaky hands tried to come off of his cock, but they wouldn't on their own. In one swift move, Levik grabbed them firmly and pried them away from Connor, then pulled the werewolf's dick out for him, aiming it down at the ground. He waited for the gush to come, and yet, nothing came.

"Y-your territory," Connor stuttered, "my wolf won't let me."

"Oh, poor thing. I see now," Levik said in a live of sheer pity. "I accept you into my pack, this territory is yours now."

The second Levik said the words, those perfect words Connor needed to hear, a spurt shot out of Connor's body. It was almost as if his bladder hadn't caught on yet, but once it realized it was free, the stream picked up strong. His piss splattered against the ground, the audible hissing painfully noticeable against the previously dry leaves on the ground. The ground couldn't soak up the piss nearly fast enough, and the pee started to puddle up and leak toward Levik, coating the leader's knees. When Connor realized, he tried to stop, he Levik simply shook his head to stop him from trying. The relief was almost dizzying, and Connor felt himself slumping over, the piss still rushing out of his body. Levik reached over and supported the man as the waves continued to pour out of his body. Connor's head rested against the man, and Levik could hear the moans of sheer relief coming from his new pack member. The sounds were almost erotic, and Levik did his best to ignore them as Connor continued to relax.

When the stream died down, Connor realized what he had done, and picked himself up off of Levik, refusing to make eye contact. The shame started to burn into his chest and his face felt hot, but then the scent hit him. He smelled like he belonged on the territory, and the marking here was his. He took a deep breath and composed himself, just to look up and see Levik standing up and beginning to free his own cock from his jeans.

"You know," Levik started, "I was planning on remarking this part of the territory today, so you've actually done me a huge favor."

Levik's dick began to spurt piss into Connor's puddle, and Connor could only watch in awe as the other werewolf emptied his bladder a mere foot from his face. When the werewolf's stream trickled off, he zipped himself up and offered his hand to Connor to help him up.

"It's not nearly as much as you did, but it'll hold down the fort for a while," Levik joked. "Come back to camp with me, we'll get you something to eat and get you cleaned up."

Connor smiled slightly and took the other werewolf's help, standing on his still shaky legs and following the man back to his camp. It had been painfully unconventional, but Connor had finally found the pack that could help him. He just hoped that in the future, he'd make a better impression.

[braveclementine]

Chapter 34

Warnings: 18+readersonly, teasing, threats of brat taming

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

Elizabeth, Jessie, Katherine, Pietro, Vision, and Hogun all got married three weeks later. It was a beautiful ceremony where Jessie wore silver, Katherine wore light pink, and Elizabeth wore white. Pietro wore silver as well, Vision was in human form wearing red, and Hogun was wearing a deep blue lined with black and silver.

The bonding ceremony was beautiful, though shorter than your own. In the end, Elizabeth, Pietro, Vision, and Hogun got a wave symbol for their soulmate bond. Jessie and Pietro were a simple flower while Katherine and Pietro got sun symbols.

Eventually they all dispersed after the ceremony- Wanda included.

Time seemed to pass afterwards. They still stayed with you, even after the wedding, as they were preparing to buy their own house- without Tony's help. They had decided that they would be moving to Florida, and by the time our children were born, they would be leaving.

It was only a month after the wedding that both Elizabeth and Jessie got pregnant. Jessie was obviously carrying Pietro's kid, but Thor let the others know that Elizabeth was carrying Hogun's child.

Elizabeth was ecstatic. I mean, they all were. Everyone was happy and everything was great.

Nothing had changed in your family dynamic- which was fantastic. You were still rotating through everyone, though you did spend just a bit more time with Fury, T'Challa, and Bucky.

Bucky had some fears about being a child, especially with his soldier serum coursing through his veins. And though he had been cured of being the winter soldier a long time ago, there was still a part of him that feared it might come back. That he might relapse. That his metal arm was a danger to any child that we had.

A few sweet, honest words and he was settled back down though. Shuri's surgery had worked and there was possible way for Bucky to become the winter soldier again except by choice. Not to mention, it had been a few years since Thanos, so the only bad thing was his nightmares.

As Rhodey and Bucky had predicted, Alpine did have kittens. Tony made sure that F.R.I.D.A.Y. captured Fury's reaction- which had been priceless.

"Guess what?" Bucky had asked, walking into the kitchen, holding Mini Loki.

"What?" Fury grunted over his cup of coffee, eyeing Mini Loki with dislike while Maria rubbed his shoulder soothingly next to him.

"Alpine had kittens! Isn't that wonderful!"

Fury spit his coffee out. "Maria, we need to get out of this house! There's um- a shopping center that just opened up and I want you to um, take a look at it!"

He grabbed her hand, slamming the cup of coffee down and basically ran the two of them out of the house.

Tony laughed once Fury exited. "F.R.I.D.A.Y., please send that to my email and make sure to save that in my favorite videos. I'd like to post it to YouTube later."

"He will kill you." Coulson and Steve said together, not bothering to look up from the breakfast table.

The months were slow but steady. Around the fifth month, you were quite large. Stephen became your main caregiver, just as he had a lot more experience in the medical field with this sort of thing. Not that he had ever been a birth doctor, but he had gone through medical school and knew more than the others.

Of course, none of this stopped the others from having sex with you. In fact, you even seemed hornier just by being pregnant. And they were all more than willing to satisfy your needs.

Stacy had her baby. A little boy that her and Jackson named Alexander Drake Portolio. He was a sweet little thing with Stacy's green eyes and Jackson's red hair. It was a strange mix on the little boy with freckles already dotted across his face, but he was cute.

You rolled over, coming face to face with Rhodey as you woke up one morning. "Hey hot mama." He mumbled sleepily, running his hand through your hair.

"Hi Sugar." You smiled, closing your eyes again to rest your head on his chest. It was hard to lay on your side anymore- especially now that you were nearing the nine-month mark.

"How are you feeling about the baby shower today?" James asked, running a hand along you're protruding stomach.

"Nervous. I can't wait to know what the genders of the babies are though." You said. "I wonder what Elizabeth will do with the cake, since its' triplets."

"Something Harry Potter themed probably." James joked and you laughed. "How about a bath this morning?"

"That sounds good." You said, sitting up while James slipped from the bed, running a hand over his hair as he made his way to the bathroom, flipping on lights. You could hear the water running in the bath while you stretched your arms above your head.

You picked up the glass of slightly stagnant water from last night, drinking the rest as your throat was still a bit sore.

"It's ready Hot mama." Rhodey said, coming over to help you to your feet. He grinned down at you, brushing your lips together, which you met with eagerly. He chuckled, pulling away when you let out a needy moan against his tongue. "C'mon, bath. You need to relax."

You didn't want to relax, you wanted to ride him, but you reluctantly let him lead you to the bathroom. He helped you over the bath edge and then helped you into a sitting position before climbing in with you.

"Hair or body first?" He asked, motioning to the shampoos and soaps on the tub edge.

"Hair." You said, scooting forwards some so that he had plenty of room behind you.

You always loved when one of your boys did your hair, especially if it was Fury, Sam, or Stephen. They seemed to have rather magical hands when they did it. Bucky was the only one who didn't want to wash your hair- afraid he'd use to much strength with his metal arm, or that the armor plates would retract and your hair would get stuck between the joints.

He was a bit better with the vibranium arm of course, no joints there, but he was still rather careful.

Rhodey's fingers seemed to almost massage your scalp. You smiled a little, finally relaxing like he wanted you to.

Rhodey grabbed the nozzle, rinsing the soap out of your hair. You conditioned the ends of your hairs, rinsing that away, while Rhodey grabbed a blue bar of Dove soap, rubbing soothing circles all over your body.

"James." You mumbled as he finished washing his own body.

"Damn Y/N." Rhodey muttered, a small smile on his face. "Last night wasn't enough?"

"It's never enough with anyone." You grumbled, being a slight brat. "I don't know why I'm so horny all the time."

Rhodey just chuckled, helping you to your feet again and handing you a towel to dry off. "We have to get ready for the baby shower. Later all your needs will be satisfied."

You grumbled a little, but didn't argue because- god damnit- he was right.

You dressed in a F/C maternity dress with flat, sturdy white sneakers for support. Wanda helped you pull back your hair, tying it up in an elegant knot with white ribbon.

"Thanks Wanda." You said with a smile.

"No problem Y/N." Wanda said, fixing up her own hair now while you started on the makeup.

"Has Elizabeth finished the cake yet? Cause none of us are allowed downstairs till she has." You said.

"She's putting the finishing touches to it right now." Wanda said. "She said she'd text when she sticks it in the fridge."

"How are you feeling about the upcoming move to Florida?" You asked. They'd decided they wait. Give birth here, and then that was when they would move.

"I'm kind've excited." Wanda said sincerely. "It will be far away from you guys, but its' not as far, especially with magical portals, no?"

You smiled, "Very true."

Wanda's phone lit up with a text from Elizabeth giving us the all clear. Rhodey knocked on the door to let us know that he was heading downstairs.

"Is everyone else here?" You asked.

"Nat and Bruce are the only ones left to show up." Wanda said. "Even the Guardians got here quicker than them. But," She smirked, "they probably had a late night."

You giggled, "Very true."

Oh right! The Supreme Court had made some changes to the law. Those medically unable-like Nat and the widows, or Vision- were not required to have children. The rules had lightened up a bit- including the penalty for not having enough children- and things were a bit more relaxed now.

You got up, leaving the bedroom with Wanda. Wanda went down the hall and down a set of stairs that led to the guest wing, while you took the main staircase to the kitchen.

Elizabeth looked tired, like she had been up for hours. Her own baby bump was rather large, though nowhere near as big as yours.

"Morning Y/N!" She said cheerfully enough, setting out a plate of eggs, sausage, and a bowl of fruit in it. A small piece of avocado was on your plate as well, making you wrinkle your nose.

"Oi!" Elizabeth scolded, pointing the spoon at you. "I hate avocado too but you are carrying three babies! Eat healthy!"

You let out an exaggerated sigh, eating the nasty green vegetable- fruit whatever- first, rinsing the nasty taste out with a mixture of milk and delicious sausage.

"What time is it?" You questioned Clint next to you.

"Ten in the afternoon. The official baby shower starts at twelve though."

"Where is everyone?"

"Peter and Gamora are showing their daughter around town. Nebula and Kraglin might be with them, although I don't know where the tree and raccoon are." Clint said with a shrug before eating more of his oatmeal. "Thor is probably with them. Bucky is probably wherever the racoon is not."

"He keeps trying to buy my arm." Bucky grunted, coming into the kitchen. He was wearing a leather jacket and a glove was covering his metal hand.

You hid your smile as Bucky grabbed a bowl of apple jacks to eat, leaning against the kitchen counter with his back to the wall so that Rocket couldn't sneak up on him. His eyes continuously roved the kitchen.

"Hey T!" You called over to T'Challa, "Does Shuri still have Bucky's old metal arm?"

"It is possible, why?" T'Challa questioned, confusion written all over his face.

"To give to Rocket." You said with a shrug and a grin. "Might get him away from Bucky's arm he's using now."

"Yes, give that to him." Bucky groaned. "Please!"

"I will let Shuri know." T'Challa said with a bit of a smile.

"You locked up all of the guns, right?" Clint asked everyone in the room, "Cause Rocket will take whatever guns he can get."

"Shit!" Tony jumped up from the table, "My lab!"

He raced down the hallway towards his lab.

"Yeah, Rocket would definitely pillage that." Clint smirked.

"Yes, Steve, Sam, and I locked everyone's guns up safely." Bucky grunted.

"I don't think that would stop him." Loki deadpanned at the table.

The breakfast table banter continued while Elizabeth slaved away at the stove, dishing out plates and plates of food, though you didn't actually ever see her eat anything herself.

"Tony should start paying you." You smirked as Elizabeth set another bowl of eggs in front of us, the boys immediately digging in, though you could've sworn that they'd already had three plates of food.

She just shrugged, a small smile on her face. You knew she really didn't mind. This was exactly what Elizabeth wanted in life. A peaceful life where she cared for her husbands and children. This was just a practice for her- and she was damn good at it. She would be a fantastic mother you were sure.

Twelve o'clock came sooner than expected and things were moved outside, under a large canopy. The Guardians were back. Bucky sat tensely by your side while Rocket sat on the other side of the table, his eyes never leaving Bucky.

"Can I stun him?" Bucky muttered under his breath.

"No." You muttered back, smirking. You knew that he and rocket had actually made a really good duo back during the war. Unfortunately, Rocket had grown an obsession over his arm and it was all he could think about now.

Bucky sunk down in his chair while Steve took a seat next to him, hiding the smile on his face.

"It's not funny punk." Bucky gritted out of his teeth.

"I didn't say it was." Steve said mildly.

"How are you, my Nkosazana?" T'Challa asked, coming up behind you to hug you from behind. He rested his hands on your stomach, feeling the babies kicking inside. "They are extremely active today."

"They've been active all week." You said with a little laugh. "They want out."

"Well Stark did just finish off their rooms." Fury said, sitting on the other side of you. Maria and Coulson sat down on the other side of him, both of them in deep conversation about something.

"Really?" You asked, surprised. "Everything? Without even knowing their genders?"

"Well, he did say that the probability of them being all girls or all boys were very slim so he made two rooms up that could fit two of both genders in them, technically more, but he's prepared." Fury smirked.

Elizabeth brought out the cake, setting in front of you, winking. "It is a bit. . . unconventional, I admit."

You couldn't see anything wrong with the cake. There was a plain, white frosting on the outside of it, not unlike the frosting that had been layered on Steve's cake. The decorations on top were very simple, just a black eyepatch, a small black cat, and a red star.

Elizabeth cut the cake directly down the middle, sliding the two pieces aside. They looked liked two halves of a different cake. On one side, there was a double layer of chocolate cake, and blue frosting in between each chocolate layer. On the other side, it was only layered once, white cake and pink frosting.

Everyone looked at Elizabeth, who was blushing slightly. She pointed the knife at the chocolate and blue. "Fury and T'Challa are having boys." She turned the knife towards the vanilla, "Bucky is having a girl."

You started to laugh, realizing the colours of the chocolate were the skin tones of your boys and the frosting was the gender of the children.

"So, remember, when you do her cake, you have to make the cake yellow." Sam whispered in my ear, making me laugh even harder.

It was all light humor and then the cake was passed around. Presents were given to the four of you- well really your babies.

Once the baby shower was finally over- about six hours later- and the party was cleaned up, you couldn't wait to get someone to take you upstairs. You had been badgering the others for a long time.

"You know what Stevie is?" Bucky asked darkly in your ear, arms wrapped tightly just above the baby bump. "He's Captain America, he's the golden boy. He's an agent, a killer, a lover, a husband, and he'll be a father. But I swear above everything else doll, Stevie is a brat tamer."

Steve and Sam were the only ones who overheard this, cracking smiles. Steve winked at you and you whimpered, feeling the need to be filled intensity with Bucky's last words and Steve's just utter hotness.

"Please." You whimpered, not even caring how many people were surrounding you.

"Y/N!" Tony shouted, running over to you, eyes bright. You nearly started crying on the spot. "C'mon, I have something I want to show you beautiful."

You let him lead you upstairs and down the unused hallway where he opened up the doors to reveal one of the bedrooms.

"Whoa." You said, horny thoughts banished to the back of your mind. "Tony this is-"

"I want our little girl to have the best." He said, smiling over his shoulder at you. "I can already just imagine her in here. Sleeping under there with her stuffed animals. I can picture you sitting next to her, reading her bedtime stories. I can imagine her during the day, running up those stairs and squealing as she slides down the slide. Of course, she's in the crib for now-" He pointed to a lovely, same shaded pink and white crib that was pushed up against the wall.

Everything was a rather overwhelming pink colour, admittedly. But it was also adorable and very princess like.

"I do need to fix the flooring a bit." Tony admitted, "More carpets. I don't want her running on this hard floor until she's a bit older."

You loved how Tony was calling her his daughter, even though she was biologically Bucky's. You were glad that he was seeing them with any difference of his kids.

"I love you Bubba." You mumbled, kissing Tony's cheek.

He chuckled, "You haven't even seen the boys room yet."

You laughed, taking his hand and let him guide you to the boys room. Upon opening the door, you gaped.

It was definitely larger than the girls room. But at the same time, it felt much smaller as there wasn't as much open space as the girls' room.

It looked as though there was a tree growing in the room, with a house on it. There was a ladder that would take them up and down the inside of the tree. The house opened up to show there was one small bed in there, perfect for a kid up until perhaps the age of 12 or 13, depending on how tall he was.

There were rope bridges on either side, that led out into the bedroom. Tunnels connected beds to other beds, while the bridges led to these beds. There were also two hammocks that were hanging near the tree in case they wanted to sit down and read.

There was a large bookcase as well, already stocked with little kids picture books on one side of the room. Behind the beds was what seemed to be a more open area, with large chairs and couches. A TV was there- although you couldn't see a remote. There were more toys over here with boxes full of huge lego blocks and wooden blocks. Small toy cars and those foam mats that you had to put together like puzzle pieces.

There were also toys for a girl, and you realized now that there was a set of double doors that connected the girls room to the boys. And another door that led to the bathroom.

The biggest feature was another tree house, that was more like a club house. It was attached to the ceiling, the only access was a rock wall, as well as another ladder. A blue slide came down the other side.

There was a window seat with pictures that you hadn't looked at yet, as well as a small rocking horse. Your kids would never want anything, that was for sure.

"What do you think?" Tony asked, gesturing around.

You just gaped, taking in everything. "I'm thinking, 'where was this when I was a kid'."

Tony chuckled.

You looked at the pictures by the window seat and started to laugh, "I love these!"

They were different superheroes with positive phrases on them. Although, it was a bit disconcerting to see a DC character among your Marvel husbands- and the kid of course. Not to mention an X-man.

"Although," You finally said, taking a look around the room, "There's no crib."

"Oh right." Tony said, leading you out of that room.

"There's another room?" You asked with surprise.

"Yep!" Tony said, "Don't worry though, this is the simple nursery."

He opened a door opposite the other two rooms and led you inside. True to his word, it was much simpler, and definitely more calming than the other rooms.

It was mostly white, though there was some black and light blues tossed in there. There was a love seat for you to sit on, lots of pillows, carpets, blankets, and rugs. There were quite a few stuffed animals everywhere as well, along with a few picture books.

It was a much smaller room, probably only a quarter of the boys room. It was divided into two half- rooms. One was obviously where you would play with the kids, and the other was where they would lay down to take a nap. There was also a light, wood changing table in the back corner, right near the black crib. There was a white fringe crib mobile above it. A rocking horse to the side.

"Oh Tony. . ." You mumbled, leaning into his side. "I love it. I love all of it. Thank you."

Tony kissed the side of your head, "I can't wait for the kids to come. I can't wait to have even more kids, although I am sorry that you're in pain so often."

You smiled as the two of you left the bedrooms. Stephen was walking down the hall, his hands in his jean pockets. "There you two are."

"Have you seen the bedrooms?" You asked in excitement.

Stephen smiled a little, "I have. Was he to overboard?"

"No, she wants one too." Tony said, winking at you.

You laughed, "I wouldn't have minded having either bedroom when I was growing up. They both seem so fun. Although I will want to keep an eye out on the kids when they move into the jungle room."

Tony nodded, "Don't worry, we can always alter it to make it safer till they're older."

Suddenly, you felt the slightest tickle of wetness sliding down your leg. You blinked.

'Did my water just break?'

You didn't voice it aloud, afraid that you might be wrong. It certainly wasn't how they described in the books with your water splashing to the floor, spraying everyone. It was just a trickle.

"I'll be right back." You said with a smile. "I need to go to the bathroom."

"Alright, do you want to come back to our room when you're done?" Stephen asked, wrapping his arms around Tony.

You smiled, "Naturally."

Tony smirked, nudging Stephen in the ribs before you waddled upstairs to your own room.

Though you rarely slept in here, there was a calm ambience to your room. It was a very simple room, not a lot of stuff as most of your things were scattered in the several other rooms you spent your time in.

You pulled your pants and knickers down in the bathroom, trying to see if there was any clear sign that your water had broken.

Unable to tell, you pulled out your phone, searching how you could figure it out.

Seeing a suggestion, you pulled on a pair of clean knickers and laid down on your bed, setting a timer for thirty minutes. However, you could literally feel the wetness pooling in your knickers and you didn't even need to wait thirty minutes before you knew- your water had broken.

A strange nervousness, yet excitement, seemed to build up in your core. You also felt strangely calm at the same time.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y." You said. "Can you please alert Nick, T'Challa, and Bucky that my water has broken?"

"Yes Miss Marvel." F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

You stayed laying there, in wait.

And then you heard a yell from downstairs that sounded like it was from Bucky.

[windchimesgames]

End of Year Recap + Plans for 2024

Hey everyone!

Belated Happy New Year to everyone! I know this is a very late end of year recap 😂Unfortunately, the past week ended up much busier for me than expected, so I could only get around to doing this now that things have calmed down a little.

This is a crosspost of a public post I made on Patreon a few days ago, so if you prefer the formatting there, you can read the post at this link:

PS: I do free monthly devlogs / posts there on Patreon, so consider joining the free tier of the Patreon even if you aren't interested in the paid tiers!

For those who'd rather read the post here, I'll leave the extraordinarily long ramble in a Read More cut below!

Let's start with a quick recap of the highlights / achievements accomplished in 2023!

Okay, this one may be slightly cheating. While Emberfate only launched on Steam in Jan 2023 so the 92 positive reviews came in in the year of 2023, it was up on Itch.io since mid 2022, so not all 383 Itch.io ratings came in in 2023.

Still, I'm pretty proud of these stats! Perhaps the numbers are nothing compared to some other amazing games' out there, but it's still something I'm proud of. It makes me happy that my silly experimental nostalgic little game struck a chord in so many players — much more than I expected given how niche the topic was!

Now, unfortunately, I could not get Emberfate's DLC for Potato's route out by end of 2023 like I had hoped. Porting the game to mobile also ended up much more difficult than I expected because of just how much of the UI I'm going to have to redesign — and hence, programming to be redone — if I wanted to make the game fit a small mobile screen. So both plans are going to have to be postponed to 2024.

The other notable highlight of 2023 is that both Lyrissa's and Kierdan's routes for Reanimation Scheme were released for beta access! That put the game at 3/5 routes complete, with a total of 431,786 words for the script.

I recruited a handful of beta testers to test the three completed routes a few months ago, and so far, the feedback has been positive overall. That's been a huge relief and lifted a massive weight off my chest — due to the controversial reception of the demo, I've been extremely anxious that the game would be hated by the players, and I've done so many rounds of editing and honestly perhaps somewhat unnecessary and obsessive rewriting of the script, but none of it felt good enough 😂 So hearing the positive comments has been a huge motivation / morale booster. Perhaps I should have done beta testing sooner… LOL

There are two more achievements unrelated to a specific game project that I'd like to mention:

2023 is the year that I became more interested in and better at Ren'Py programming! Most of it is thanks to my amazing programmer friend and Ren'Py wizard, Feniks (whom you may know as the programmer for Our Life series), who sparked my interest in programming and helped teach me a LOT. While I'm by no means a professional now at coding, I feel much more comfortable navigating around Ren'Py code and setting up what I need to in the backend of the games I'm developing, which opens up new doors for me for future projects in terms of what kind of features (big or small) that I may be able to include! Though the side effect of that is I looked back at the code I did for Reanimation Scheme from previous years and was immediately horrified by how ugly and inefficient it was. 😂I did redo the backend code of the Gallery and Achievements system a bit, but the rest will just have to stay for now.

I made quite a few new connections within the indie VN dev sphere in 2023! I made a shocking discovery that there's enough number of indie VN developers from Hong Kong to fill half a minibus, and I was lucky enough to connect with them and share our experiences and learn from each other! Due to new project commissions I took on for $$$ (real life financial needs suck), as well as a couple of small game jam projects I joined as programmer to buff up my programming portfolio, I also made some new VN dev friends unexpectedly. It's been really nice, because honestly, solo dev can be a really lonely and isolating endeavor sometimes. I'm super grateful for the new connections I found myself making in 2023!

Looking Ahead: 2024

Okay, that was a lot of rambling for the recap. More than I thought I would write. Now let's move forward to what the future will look like for this studio in 2024 and what goals I'm setting for myself this year!

Priority #1: Finishing Reanimation Scheme

Of course it's Reanimation Scheme. As mentioned above, we're currently at 3 out of 5 routes completed (sans partial voice acting). So the biggest goal for 2024 will be to get the game done. and out. Finally.

I won't be giving a concrete release date until we're like, literally in beta phase for all 5 routes, just so I won't have to announce a delay and let people down. But given the current progress and pace of work, I'd say probably around mid-year — maybe Q3 latest.

I'll be keeping up with the episodic updates of Reanimation Scheme's beta build on Patreon (and Kickstarter) from this month onwards, beginning with Jori's route and then followed by Sebastien's.

The remaining Kickstarter rewards may take a little longer — but ideally, all of them (artbook / lorebook / short stories collections, etc.) will be done by end of the year as well.

Priority #2: Potato's Route DLC for Emberfate

Potato, poor Potato. His DLC had to be put on the sidelines until Reanimation Scheme is done.

Half of the art has already been commissioned and completed by the amazing Remnantation — we're just missing his selfie CG & his MMO character sprite! So the next step would be the script and then the voice acting for the calls part. I won't be able to start on the script until mid-2024 earliest, but given the fact that his route won't be that long if it's parallel in length compared to the existing three routes, it probably won't take too long to do. Perhaps 2-3 months for the development process of the DLC?

I'll likely be releasing his DLC early on Patreon, potentially also episodically as it's completed, like I did with Emberfate. So if you're interested, keep an eye out for it when the time comes!

Something Secretly Brewing in the Shadows?

If you're pledged to this Patreon on $10 tier or above, you'll probably already know what I'm alluding to.

I won't be announcing or talking much about this for now, since I don't know when I'll be able to start working on this project properly (i.e. I need to meet my above two goals first). For all I know, it might end up being not a 2024 thing but a 2025 thing. So I'll only tease it slightly for now here.

Bonus Goal: Market, for the Love of God

If you follow Wind Chimes Games on either Twitter or Tumblr, you'll probably have noticed the sorry state of my social media. I… really do not like marketing or posting on social media. I never know what to post or say. I'm too unfunny and uncreative to meme or write humorous captions that get engagement. 😂It kind of feels like I'm shouting into the void, and nobody really cares about what I have to say on my projects when there's so many cooler and more interesting things out there. So I always try for a brief period of time, and then I give up 😭

This year though, I really really need to take marketing more seriously. With two releases planned for 2024, marketing is going to be important if I want the games to sell more than like 20 copies LOL

So I guess, uh, hold me to it and call me out if I don't start posting regularly after all 🥹

Conclusion

If you've made it this far on this post, thank you so much for listening to me ramble. 🥹 2024 is going to be a very busy year, but hopefully, a productive one that will end with me meeting all of the above listed goals.

Thank you so much for joining me on the wild and bumpy journey that was 2023, and I hope you'll stick around for the exciting things to come this year too! Here's to a great year ahead of all of us!

[yeonmuse]

BUTTON EYES

Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | All Chapters

PAIRING | OT8, MC SEONGHWA

WORDS| 1.3K

GENRE | Coraline au, angst, suspense,

SUMMARY | What happens when Seonghwa returns to the home he was once fond of as a child? This time around making his return as a full adult with the company of friends. Nightmares and old friends return and the button eyes that Seonghwa desperately escaped as a child have returned to haunt he and his friends.

WARNING | Graphic descriptions, mentions of death, ghost children, witchcraft, grsphic nightmares, arson, lost memories

MORE | Based on the childrens novel & Henry Selick film Coraline

Before i go any further i want it to be known i am in no way claiming Coraline as my own. I wrote a concept for a part 2 or spinoff long ago and I just felt that it was time to finally put it to use. I do not own Ateez or any Coraline named Characters in this story but the Storyline is indeed a self made one.

For a while they all sat in silence gathered by the fire place. When the three of them decided to move in with seonghwa none of them had been aware that they would be getting themselves into something like this. It all freaked them out, well all except Jongho who still didn't even believe the little ghost girl was even real.

"So?'' Jongho spoke up breaking the silence.

"Hongjoong" Yeosang calls out to him as if asking him to finally start explaining to them what was going on.

A sigh spilled from his lips and he took a seat in front of the fireplace before he began.

"It started with an old necklace I found in my grandma's house. When I found it I had asked her about it but she didn't really say much at first. I remember bothering her the entire day and whining for her to tell me. At some point she got tired of me whining about it and she said she would tell me all about it under the condition that I bring the food she had made to Seonghwas grandmother. Since she had just moved in a few months prior my grandmother and yours were quite familiar with one another so I was used to it, but I wasn't expecting to see you and your parents there. You were a curious kid back then and honestly I also thought you to be a little weird running around in your astronaut suit. Your grandmother convinced me to play with you by bribing me with cupcakes and by the end of that day we had become great friends but it didn't prepare me for what I'd be dealing with having become friends with you. When I returned home My granda finally sat me down and told me about the necklace. It had belonged to her sister before she passed away in the woods near the manor. She said one day her and her sister had been playing in the old playground and her sister just found it and claimed that it was hers. I couldn't believe this because when I myself had found the necklace it didn't say any other name but yours. So without grandma knowing I took the necklace and gave it to you and well thats when things got weird. After a week or so you wouldn't come around to grandmas as much and the only times i'd see you were the occasional visits to give your grandma Coraline food, or when i'd catch you frequenting Mr. forcible and Mrs. Spinks place.''

Both Wooyoung and Sans eyes widened at the mentions of their own grandmothers all of a sudden.

"You knew our grandmothers?" Wooyoung asked pearing at Seonghwa who hadn't had a clue about any of the details Hongjoong was speaking of.

"He knew them both, Yeosangs grandfather too, they all are well aware of why Seonghwa was forbidden to come back.'' Hongjoong continued on, glaring at the two boys as a warning to let him finish.

"At some point your grandma grew worried for you, we all did, as the months went by you started to look so sick, like something had been ripping away your energy day by day. I remember asking you about it and you got so defensive. 'The other Hongjoong is so much better, less noisy than you'. That's what you said to me. I didn't understand and it hurt me so much that I went back home to grandma and told her I no longer wanted to be the one to bring the food, but of course she made me go anyway. Your grandma had told me you had been cooped up in your room and hadn't come out. She pleaded with me to get you to come down and play but when I went up you werent there. I looked all over the entire house for you yet you were nowhere to be found. I had been on my way out the door when I found you out in the hallway talking to a cat, you claimed he could speak to you, claimed that the two of you could travel to this magical world with colorful walls and toys, a table aligned with sweets.'' this sentence caused Seonghwas ears to perk up as the scene he described was familiar to him, he had dreamt it.

"I thought maybe your imagination was just far better than mine since you were able to think up all of this and think it to be real. You even went as far as saying there was a woman in black that would feed you, read to you, play games with you and at that point I thought maybe you had just become delusional. You told me that I was free to visit with you one night and that 'mama said all children are welcome' and it felt off to me. That same day when nightfall came there was a tapping at my window and I found the cat outside. I turned back to go to sleep but he wouldnt let me. He just kept tapping at the window. When I got out of bed and opened the window to shoo him away he simply sat there for a while before turning away and waiting for me to follow. Me being a curious child at such an age found myself following him deep into the woods and of course it creeped me the fuck out walking through the dark woods alone I mean you've seen them you know how creepy they are. I found you there at the playground burying something but it didn't occur to me that it'd be the necklace. When i started to approach you this- this woman appeared out of nowhere and she attacked you I didn't know what to do so I- I just lunged at her and god she put up a fight. When she grabbed you by the neck and I realized that you were losing consciousness I did the only thing I thought to do and I bit her. She vanished and for a while we both just sat there. I convinced you to tell me everything that you had been experiencing since arriving at the house. To this day I still don't know who the woman was nor do I know why you were suddenly admitting to having seen little ghost children running around but it freaked me out nonetheless and you were shaken to the core. I remember the next day your parents had arrived to drag you away, but before they left they paid a visit to Woo and Sans grandmother. That's all I remember of that summer..whatever it was that you had seen, whatever the things you had dealt with...they scarred you badly. Your grandma asked me to never speak of it again if you ever returned and I promised her I wouldn't speak a word of it.'' The room fell silent, no one knew what to say after hearing the story and in all honesty it made many of them fearful to even be in the house in that moment.

At this point the sun had been setting and none of them had gotten any sleep, knowing the events that occurred in this house neither of them had the guts to fall asleep there, well none aside from Jongho.

"Something doesn't sit right with me about any of this.'' Yeosang sat staring at the fire, listening as the wood crackled softly.

"Your grandfather...your grandfather told me something. I think you thought it was the Schizo talking, but he tried to warn me about this house. He said that she was here waiting somewhere and the children never left? But I don't I don't know what the fuck it means I don't know what any of this has to do with me.'' Seonghwa sighs and rests his face in the palm of his hands.

"I think, I think we know someone that may know something.'' Wooyoung and san shared a glance before looking back at Seonghwa

[opalimagines]

First Date

Rick asks you out on a date. Takes place on Halloween, shortly after the end of season three.

Rick Tyler/gn!reader

Warnings: None

"Are you doing anything for Halloween?"

Rick's question broke you away from your homework, and you looked over at him where he sat beside you on the couch. The two of you were studying at your house that night, having already had dinner together a couple of hours ago.

"I was going to pass out candy," you answered, tapping your pen against your notebook. "Probably watch a few movies."

Halloween was a bit of a complicated thing in your home. Your father did not enjoy the month of October because it brought back too many bad memories of his transformation into The Shade. The Halloween spirit of Opal's citizens still didn't do much to change his mood. But even with all that, he would always let you pick a costume and take you trick-or-treating. For the last few years, he allowed you to decorate the house and pass out candy to the smaller children. And you intended to do the same that year until Rick spoke again.

"The Lost Boys is playing at the drive-in. I thought we could go. As a date...if you still want that." But it sounded like you already had things set for Halloween, which didn't surprise him since it was only a couple of days away.

"Of course I do." Your cheeks burned as if your feelings for each other weren't already well known and out in the open. You hadn't expected him to ask you out so soon, but you didn't mind because he was back to his usual self. And you were glad he was being more obvious about it than you were when you asked him out. You smiled, knowing you'd rather spend that night with him. "I'd love to go with you. It sounds like a lot of fun."

Rick let out a little breath because if he was being honest, a part of him thought you could've changed your mind. Maybe in the process of helping him detox from the hourglass, you decided you didn't actually want him. But that worry turned out to be for nothing. "Great. I'll pick you up at 6."

"I'll be ready," you said as you went back to your homework.

As if you'd even be able to focus after that.

Rick walked up the path leading to your house, the sun already beginning to set. The lights and decorations covering the place were all lit—and moving, if they could do that—and you had a huge bowl of candy sitting out on the porch for once the trick-or-treating began. He knocked, and you opened the door immediately, absolutely beaming.

"You look great," tumbled out of his mouth instead of an actual greeting. But he meant it.

While you had spent quite a while finding the perfect outfit, you didn't look much different than usual. Neither did Rick, yet you still replied, "So do you."

Rick gestured back towards his car. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah." You shut the door behind you and locked it, closing the distance between the two of you. Rick smiled nervously as you walked to his car together, and he opened the door for you to get inside, your heart swelling at how adorable he was trying to be a good date.

He closed the door once you got inside and walked around the front, and when he took his seat, he looked over at you. He really shouldn't have been so jittery about this. Because when he really thought about it, the two of you had practically been dating for months without actually calling it that. Late nights spent studying, going out to Richie's just the two of you, having family dinners at your house, hanging out in your room for hours.

Hell, you'd slept in the same bed and cuddled for several nights just a couple of weeks ago.

But this felt different. Like he could easily ruin it all now.

"Hey," you called softly, reaching to take his hand. "Don't worry. It's only me." You hadn't expected the anxiety rolling off of him. Not to say you weren't a little nervous, too, but mostly, you were just excited. "I understand if you're not ready. This doesn't have to be a date."

"I'm ready," he assured you. "I've just never done this before, and I don't want to screw it up."

"You won't. You're doing fine." You gave his hand a squeeze. "Besides, I've never done this either, so even if you do mess something up, I probably won't even notice."

He'd forgotten about the fact that you also had no real idea what you were doing. You were both inexperienced in this kind of thing. "Thanks, that...actually helps."

"Just remember that it's like any other night we've spent together, only this time we're not hiding anything."

That advice worked like a charm because by the time the movie started, all the worry melted away. The two of you were hanging out together like you'd done so many times, and there was nothing scary about that. Even knowing that you were more than friends now.

He didn't want it to end, but eventually, he was walking you back up to your front door. "Thanks for coming. I had a great time."

"Me, too." You glanced at your front door, then back to him, not wanting the night to end either. "If you want, we can take the leftover candy down to my room and watch more movies. I've got Fright Night, Friday the 13th, The Thing..."

"Yeah, I'd like that." Luckily, Rick did have a liking for campy 80's horror films, but he knew he would've said yes no matter what movies you rattled off.

Grabbing the candy bowl, you unlocked the front door and led him down to the basement. You placed the bowl on the bed and went right for the cabinet under your TV. Rick took his sneakers off and sat up on your bed, watching you rifle through your tapes.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" You asked without looking back at him. "Hopefully, I have it."

He didn't even have to think about it. "Nightmare on Elm Street."

"Good to know." You pulled said tape out of the stack and stuck it into the VCR. "Nice choice, by the way."

"What's yours?"

In a gust of wind, you were throwing all of the extra pillows in the house onto your bed. You climbed on and arranged them against the wall so you could both be more comfortable. "You'll just have to wait and see."

Rick smiled, resting back against the mountain of pillows as you sat next to him, placing the candy bowl on both of your laps.

"Oh, I almost forgot." The air shifted again, and while you were exactly as you had been, the room was suddenly pitch black aside from the light of the TV. "We can't watch scary movies with the lights on."

He'd been a bit too distracted to notice they were on, and he was even more distracted when you leaned into his side as the previews played through. Rick hesitated a moment before lifting his arm up a little and speaking quietly. "Is it okay if I...?"

You grinned over at him, taking his arm and placing it across your shoulders, lacing his fingers with yours. There hadn't been any of that at the drive-in because it wasn't something that really worked in his car. "Rick, we've slept in the same bed. You don't have to be shy about putting your arm around me."

His cheeks flushed, and thankfully, you couldn't see that too well. "Right."

Snuggling into him, you let out a content sigh and grabbed yourself a piece of candy.

As far as first dates went, watching cheesy movies together all night was pretty damn perfect.

Fun fact: Fright Night is mentioned specifically because Charley's car is also a '66 Mustang (but it's a fastback unlike Rick's) and I thought that was interesting 😎

[nordlichtgeschichten]

Left! Other Left!

"Slightly" belated story for @flufftober Day 2 - "Left! Other Left!"

Svantje, Fenja, and Peer just want to get some rest, but directions turn out to be a hassle...

POV: 3rd Person Warnings: None Word Count: 818 words

Svantje yawned, her hands gripping the steering wheel a little more tightly. "I could have sworn we should already be there…” She looked into the dark, but found nothing but street and other cars. “Fenja, can you check the map? If it'll take us much longer, we should probably find a place to stop for the night."

"Sure, hang on." Fenja opened the glove box to hunt for it. "I think there's a hotel not far from here, if we need it, but I'll check. Ah, there we go!" She grabbed for the map, but just as she was about to fish it out, Svantje hit a bump in the road, sending the map tumbling down to the leg room. "Shoot."

"Sorry. Can you reach it?"

"Yeah, no problem." Fenja briefly glanced at Peer, but they were still fast asleep on the back seat, sparing her from a comment. It took a few moments before Fenja managed to grab one of the map’s corners, and pulling on it did tear the map a bit, but finally, she got it back into her hands. "All right, hotel, hotel... Ah. We've got to—" As she was talking, they drove straight past an intersection. "—Well, not go there now, I guess. Hang on. Oh! All right, take a left up there, then we can circle back to it!"

"Thanks." Svantje gave Fenja a brief smile and turned on the blinker, soon rounding the corner and turning left.

"No, no, the other left!"

Svantje slowed down a little, but honking from a car behind her immediately forced her to speed up again. "Well, too late for that now. Doesn't seem like I can turn around here, either. Is there any way to get back coming up?"

"Uh, let me see... Or, well, I'd try to, but I can't even find this street on the map. Maybe it's new. Or just too small." Fenja looked for a few moments longer, then folded the map and stuffed it back into the glove box. "Maybe if you can take two rights somewhere? Or two lefts, whatever comes first."

Svantje nodded. "I'll try."

And she surely would have, if the road had offered any turns at all. Instead, though, it just became more narrow, twisting around a pond and then following a small brook. There were no street lamps lining this road, either, the only light coming from the moon and stars, and from the few other cars that shared the road with Svantje.

Finally, it offered a left turn, and Svantje took it. Now, she was the only car around, and the only source of light down here. Now they only needed another left turn. Or maybe a chance to turn around, but the street just went on and on.

Svantje yawned again.

"Hey, do we still have the tent in the car?" Fenja asked. "There's some free space over there. You need a break, Peer's already asleep, and I could really use a chance to stretch my legs."

"I think so.” Svantje glanced over to Fenja and smiled. “You’re right, let’s stop for the night."

The road was empty aside from them, but Svantje still turned on her blinker before turning into a tiny dirt path leading away from the main road and to a grassy hill. A few meters away, she parked and turned off the engine; silence spread in a way it only could when a noise you didn't even notice anymore suddenly vanished.

It didn't stay silent for long, though, since only a few moments later, Peer moved in the back seat. "Are we finally there...?"

"Not quite," Svantje answered and unbuckled her belt. "But we'll stay here for tonight."

Peer yawned and unbuckled their belt, too. "Fine. Like, in the car?"

"No, in the tent. Remember when we went camping a few weeks ago?" Fenja laughed. "I think we never got around to taking it out."

All three got out of the car almost in sync, then stopped. It was a warm night, not a cloud in sight, allowing them to see countless stars, sparkling like diamonds.

"Wow." Peer was the only one who said anything at all for a few moments, until Svantje couldn’t help but yawn again.

Fenja smiled. "All right, let's get everything set up before you two fall asleep on your feet. We can look some more afterwards."

Svantje nodded and opened the trunk of the car. They set up the tent quickly, despite all three of them frequently pausing to gaze up again, still spellbound by the brilliant sparkles above. Afterwards, they sat on the grass in front of their tent, huddled together and just looking into the night sky, until Peer just about fell asleep right then and there.

With the stars above them, even separated by the tent roof, they slept better that night than they would have in any hotel.

[clunelover]

I love my BFF so much, but we had a convo a few weeks ago that got me very emo and I still haven't quite recovered.

She was talking about how she's thinking more and more about shifting into private practice, and how between the flexible schedule that could give her, plus her husband now exclusively working as a dog sitter/walker, also flexible, and her parents being willing to help a lot with childcare, they probably won't have to put their baby in daycare at all.

I think this is AWESOME. And she's been private-practice-curious for a couple years now, and probably would've already made the jump if not for being pregnant, or trying to get pregnant, for so long and needing solid insurance. I have known even before she did that it would be a situation where, once you get a taste of that money + scheduling freedom, you'll never go back. So none of this is surprising to me -- all good!!!

Her parents, however, for as many awesome qualities as they have (and they really are awesome, I love them so much and wish they could be my parents, or in particular I wish her dad could be my dad), are unhealthily tied to the ideal of productivity. Her dad is a farmer and her mom was an ADA. They have both worked HARD, forever. They have definitely assigned morality to one's job status. It goes a long way to explaining why BFF finished college a year early and has almost always worked at least two jobs, even if she didn't strictly need to.

So, that's all background to a couple weeks ago, BFF had told her mom that her husband was not going back to his part time office job at all, and would only do dog gigs. Her mom freaked out way too much about this. They moved past it, but BFF was very much still smarting over it. She started recounting to me what her mom said, and what she thought about what her mom said, and then some general thoughts about the merits of daycare vs. no daycare - and I realize that what was really happening is, she was replaying the fight with her mom, and talking to her mom and not actually to me. BUT it was jumbled up enough that I did think she was talking more TO me (plus, like...she literally was? Talking to me?)

And I was nodding along and you-go-girling, until she said some things like "I wanted to have a baby for so long, and now I finally do, so why would I go through all this time and heartache to get her here, only to stick her in daycare all day?" ...again, now that I know she didn't mean that at ME, I can kinda swallow it, but it was hard not to think "oh yeah, so I had a baby quickly, so I guess I didn't want the baby as much? And so that's why I didn't care about 'sticking them in daycare all day'??"

The other offending comment was "I know lots of people do have to send their kids to daycare!" (which to me implies, the only reason you'd make such a horrible choice is if you HAD to).

In the moment I just cried and couldn't say much coherent other than "you can say these things without having to bash daycare."

I just drove home crying and replaying it...it wasn't til I got home that I grasped just how much she wasn't even talking to me - like, at one point she said "and you were lucky enough to be able to afford daycare for three kids" and in the moment I just thought "huh? I only have two kids" but then later I put that together - her MOM has three kids.

She texted to apologize and confirmed that she just got in a rant and couldn't stop. I've seen her at least once since then and it was all good. But I think she has this underlying thought still that she can't talk about her choices now without worrying about offending me and making me think she's condemning my choices, when it's not actually about me at all! But it's hard to explain that I am actually pretty receptive to statements like "I'd rather configure my schedule so my husband and I can take turns with the baby" or even "I don't want to send her to daycare" as long as they don't veer so far into judgment about daycare and the people who "have to" send their kids there.

IDK I don't think I'll bring it up tho, unless it comes up naturally. There's just too much risk I'll stumble over my words and start crying and make it worse.

Also this horrible conversation was part of what made me really start looking at the idea of me eventually stopping working. She was saying something about their budget changing, but that "there is no number"- i.e. no amount of additional income that would make it "worth" sending the baby to daycare - and that made me realize that there's no number for me either - no amount of extra income that makes the logistical realities of two kids and two full times jobs more manageable.

So...all's well that ends well hopefully.

[thetruearchmagos]

15 OC Questions!

Thank you kindly @theprissythumbelina for the Tag!

You mentioned my MCs, but I wouldn't say I have any considering how I do the whole writing thing. So, for the sake of actually having something to talk about, I'll go with Gustav J. Schmidt, specifically in his post-Wars iteration.

1. Are you named after anyone? No, no, I don't believe so. 2. When was the last time you cried? Last week, and I'm not afraid to say it. We'd just wrapped a memorial, you see, and that night I suppose it all washed over me, as strong as ever. It was, nice, and at least I had Higgs with me... 3. Do you have kids? Oh, no, none at all! But, well, I've always... that is to say, we're not old crows yet, if you get my meaning! 4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? Too often, and yet at the same time not enough. 5. What’s the first thing you notice about people? How they dress, followed by how they walk. 6. What’s your eye color? Blue like clear skies, and as sharp as they were a decade ago. 7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings, any time. Never quite understood the appeal of horror, once you've seen enough of the real stuff cheap gore is soft stuff. 8. Any special talents? I'll have you know I played for the Army team at the Services Billiards Tourney for three years straight when I was a Captain at GSI, and we won the whole run! Oh, those were the days... 9. Where were you born? Well, that is for me to know, and for you, not to. 10. What are your hobbies? Well, these days I've finally found the time to polish off some old writing I left unfinished back at GSI- the General Staff Institute, that is. It's work, but the sort I for the passion of it more than anything else. 11. Have you any pets? Never could stand animals, myself. We had Ol' Sarge Scalie back in Shatihab, the Corps mascot, but I left him in the care of the veterinary folks as much as possible. Cute creature for a desert lizard, but acidic bile never had a place in my tent. 12. What sports do you play/have played? My old Colonel put me on the Battalion rugby team for a game, and that accounts for the sum total of my sporting career. Damn near broke my back that day... 13. How tall are you? Oh, last I checked I was fifteen short of two metres, which isn't much less than when I commissioned. The difference being that I was considered lanky at 19, and now decidedly less so. 14. Favorite subject in school? Oh, I adored history! Majored in it at Northrop, and whenever I was out of field work I tried to get sent somewhere academic to get more of it. Military history, for the most part, though I suppose that comes with the uniform. 15. Dream job? Well, unless another war breaks out and my services find themselves in need, I'm hoping to keep where I am now. A permanent residency at GSI would be nice, or perhaps the new Combined Services Staff Institute they're opening. I've every confidence that our new officership will prove themselves to be every bit our superiors, and I'd like to help make that happen.

I, myself, will be Tagging @hessdalen-globe (For you nagging!) @athenswrites @thatndginger @avrablake @coffeexafterxmidnight and anyone who'd like to take part!

[codenameredkrystalmatrix]

Standing Sentinel

Blinding white and brilliant gold cut through the droids, putting an end to the Separatist operations on the planet. Two Zabraks raced up the outpost’s central control tower, setting charges and blowing through the opposition they faced.

The server coordinator, a very-much organic Rodian, shrieked when he saw the pair. Instead of killing him, Savage roared in his face and sent him scrambling.

"You've clearly gone soft, brother."

Savage shook his head. The The pair Force-jumped back to their ship and manned the guns.

“You took your time!” Feral dropped his visor and fired up the engines.

“Hmph. Your trial combat results clearly evidence your superiority. Now, I request your best attempt at Plo Koon’s record.”

"Yes, Commander Maul, sir!"

That statement was met with a groan. Taking off, the trio cleared the atmosphere with ships hot on their heels. A TIE-fighter glided in alongside them and gave cover fire.

“Someone rang?” Anakin’s voice came over the com-channel.

“Not in this star system!” Feral replied, smiling.

“You seem chipper, Skywalker.” Savage pivoted his battlestation hard left and disposed of two cruisers. A gunship entered the fray. Feral’s eyes narrowed, fixated on the viewport. He executed a barrel roll and swooped to avoid the fire.

“Nice! I’ll take it from here.”

Maul noticed how he loosened and beamed at the praise. Anakin’s ship effected an all-angles orbit, forming a defensive perimeter and taking enemy after enemy out of commission. They cleared the formation and made the jump into hyperspace.

At last, Chandrila and the outline of the Jedi outpost came into view. Obi-wan met them upon landing. He bade Maul speak with him privately, and his brothers peeled off to remain outside. Excited shouts filed the air as the younglings who had been outside spied them.

"Master Kenobi."

The man shook his head. Maul would not be himself without some degree of sarcasm. However, Obi-wan detected none of the true bite that would have lurked under it all those cycles ago. "Your margins of error grow slim."

"Simply the price of ascension in any order- much more so this one."

"We can send in support troops at any time. Do not hesitate to ask for what is yours by right."

"My gratitude, Kenobi. But you know the stores are better spent in recovery eff-"

"I was informed of the Garel incident."

Maul was silent. He'd spent almost a week in a bacta tank for the infections sustained. Perhaps an echo of his past life, but he'd never even considered contacting the Temple for backup or a medical supply drop. More than that, he half-expected they wouldn't. It would be an effective method of disposing of a liability. If there was one thing he could respect, it was efficiency. That made their seeming mercy all the more unsettling. Kindnesses extended themselves despite the fearful looks in some of their eyes. Despite the pain in Kenobi's even as he reached a hand to his former enemy. Those reserves of self-control were something of marvel to the Zabrak...

"How, Kenobi?"

The man’s brow arched. "The Council communication channels do have some useful information, if you'd lower yourself so much as to listen in."

Maul shook his head, the ghost of a smirk on his face. He'd let the misinterpretation stand. "I'd consider if they release an advisory on the trimming of unseemly facial hair."

"It has clearly been too long since our last duel!"

On exiting, he could see Feral and Anakin chasing the squealing children, gently Force-throwing them back and forth. Savage, expression devoid of strain, was letting some swing from his arms and sit on his shoulders. The scars of all three peeked through their robes as they flowed with the breeze. May the elders bear those marks, so the young ones did not have to.

Lying on the grass, he cast his eyes to the skyline and let himself slip- not quite meditating, but not quite conscious either. The Force bubbled with energetic pops from the little lives about. There was easy warmth from Savage that slowly bloomed in the fields of the metaphysical. He felt the relieved playfulness of Feral bounding from the remains of a fearful shell. He sensed the tumultuous roar of Anakin's fervour and Kenobi's darting, sagely mischief. And beyond them, his body sensed the dance of dozens, hundreds of the living. His weary spirit soared, reminded of for who-!

Feral flopped onto his stomach, followed by a giggling, squirming pile that knocked the air out of his body. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Savage smirk while taking a seat. Maul tried his best to scowl at the interruption.

The setting sun brought calm and appreciation for what he had now. The winds brought refreshment instead of the stench of corpses. No longer would he drift off plagued with a bloody fantasy he was not sure he'd realize.

Anakin and Obi-wan exchanged looks. He'd finally begun to see that which the Dark Side could never have given. True purpose and contentment had at last reached the brothers three. For they were now Maul, Feral and Savage Opress- Jedi Sentinels in the service of the Order and the galaxy.

[kharmii]

how far are you into BNHA?

just curious when I saw your reblog earlier!

I've been out of the loop for quite a while but I'm still follow from the sidelines a little.

Last I saw, Crunchyroll had a few episodes of the BNHA Season 7 sub but none in English yet. That was a few weeks ago. Since then, I've been watching Jujutsu Kaisen (am on S.1 E.19) and won't watch anything else until I'm done with it. I'm also looking forward to the next season of Demon Slayer coming out this month.

I've watched everything BNHA out including the movies and one shots (loved the Mr. Smiley one and got a chill from what happened in the one where Shoto gets triggered by a treadmill in an abandoned building, and what the viewer thinks happens after). With the manga, I've only skimmed sections of characters I'm interested in. IE: Saw what happened to Dabi and Skeptic but didn't read most of the endless Shigaraki battle.

As always, I'm fixating on specific characters and will post them to death. I thought I'd be over Dabiten by now, but then I had to go and find that Japanese artist who did a hundred or so beautiful comic panels about the ship, and now I'll end up laboriously trying to translate it all based on emotions and awkward Google lens translations. The two complement each other in a sweetly sad way, like Geten could have eased the agony of Dabi's existence which would eventually make him forget out his grudge. Instead, Geten ends up rotting in prison while Dabi.....well.

I'm assuming Dabi is dead based on how he was last seen in the manga, but maybe there's hope for him because he has always been dubiously alive. He's a guy whose villain name means 'cremation' because he was burned so badly by his own quirk he ended up in a coma for three years, then wasn't expected to live longer than a month after he woke up. Supposedly, his hatred and longing for revenge gave him life.

In that way, Dabi reminds me of a human version of the pokemon Ceruledge, a fire/ghost type called the blue flame arm-blade pokemon who 'wears the malicious armor of a grudge bearing soul'. Pokemon has a way of making adorable chibified versions of beings out of a horror movie. Ceruledge is a similar horror to the 108 tormented souls of spiritomb, or all the child-snatching soul eating 'mons, such as drifloon, litwick, palossand, etc. Dabi is a good parallel representation of the idea of ceruledge.

Another fun ceruledge fact is it's one of the pokemon that 'un-alives' itself at its peak evolution. Other examples of this would be alolan marowak, decidueye, froslass, shedninja, hisuian typhlosion, basculegion, skeledirge, and annihilape. Many ghost pokemon are ghosts or possessed objects, but all the 'un-alived' 'mons are undead creatures resembling ghouls, zombies or vampires.

Art credit: Dabi, Apocrypha, refined taste / 謹賀新年VIOLET - pixiv

[smokeys-house]

Puukko’s Travel Log 1 & South, for What Ails

(See this post first!)

A leather bordered journal with a wrap closure. It's clearly quite old but not yet well used, and the cover is embossed with a sailing ship. The front page has an anchor sketched on it with an ornate border, beneath it reads "Property of Puukko"

Passage from Puukko's Travel Log

Used to be I'd just wind up on an excursion like this. Fell into trouble like one falls overboard, soaring through the air and into the drink with a splash. A rare treat to start one voluntarily, if poorly planned. I'm headed down through the valley toward the old Moominhouse. Kind folk down there, gon' stop by for a cup o' something warm and t' exchange words of the same if they'll have 'em. 

I intend to stay with the moomins a while and charter a ship to head southward. Not rightly sure on the where, but I do know the when. Wond'rin' if they'll remember me down there. Moominmama and her husband were always some that I'd considered friends. At least since I came to the valley anyway. Feels like they've always been here. 

Day 1

Signed Puukko

(Full story under the cut!)

The leaves scattered along worn footpaths, carried haphazard and carelessly by a crisp autumn wind. Moominvalley was as peaceful an idyll as it ever was as Puukko made her way to the home of the Moomins. There waiting on the veranda was none other than Moominpapa, enjoying his coffee and a well-deserved break from his memoirs. 

"Ahoy there!" The old moomin woman cleared her throat. It had been some weeks since she'd spoken to someone other than herself, and some years since she'd met with anyone in the valley.

"Well would you look at that, I was just thinking of you! Mama had mentioned paying you a visit just the other day, but I was convinced you'd taken to the seas long ago." He stood and smiled brightly. "Won't you come in for a visit?"

He took her bag and set it by the coat rack, ushering her into the kitchen area. It was warm and inviting, though the chairs were a little small for the likes of Puukko. Still, she made herself comfortable as Moominpapa mused about the comings and goings of the valley inhabitants. 

"I'd been meaning to pay you a visit myself as well, my son's old pocket knife has seen better days. After all, he's not got pockets!" He chuckled aloud. "Mama! Might we have some more coffee please? An old friend has come to visit!"

Moominmama rounded the corner. She hadn't changed much over the years, still with her classic handbag and apron. "Oh, Miss Puukko! I thought I had smelled smoke, but Papa's pipe is still on his desk." She ribbed gently. It wasn't normally like her to poke fun, but she was well accustomed to her guest's sense of humor.  

The Moomins had a way of making it feel as though no time had passed, their welcoming attitude and general hospitality created a comforting atmosphere. Moominmama prepared a fresh pot of coffee as her husband delighted in his endless story telling. The three swapped tales of recent times, remarks on the weather, and other pleasantries for a time before getting to the reason for such an uncommon visit. 

"I've plans to venture back onto the high seas. Been sittin' too long. I reckon I'm fit to burst should I not feel some wind in me sails again." The old pirate stared into her mug, paws wrapped around its sides. 

"I do hope you're not thinking of going back to your old job, dear. I very much doubt you'll find today's ships to your liking, anyhow." Moominmama's eyes betrayed her words, she made it clear with a look that she'd rather have a friend in the mountains than one on the run. 

"Nothing quite like that, worry ye none!" She gave a hearty chuckle. "I'm just lookin' t' see her again. The sea, I mean. A taste of salt, nothin' more." 

Moominpapa passed the table salt over without a word, pleased with his joke regardless of whether the other two took note. "Not to dissuade you, I am partial to a journey, especially one by sea, but you haven't got a ship, have you?" He was very clearly suggesting something, and eagerly so. 

"Cunning as ever, Moominpapa. I'd hoped to 'ave you and yer l'il craft ferry me to a port where I could charter a ship." 

"Ah, an excursion at sea with a real pirate, how exciting!" He stood on his chair and struck a gallant pose. 

"She's not a pirate anymore, dear." Moominmama was quick to correct. "Where is it you're heading, Miss Puukko? I'm afraid it's a little late in the season for a long journey."

"Italy, I think. Ne'er been, always wanted to. Knew someone what were tossin' that idea about, lifetimes ago." 

Moominpapa put aside his excitement and scratched at his snout. It was always obvious when he was thinking, he carried a familiar look of determination. "You could borrow The Adventure, if you could promise a safe return." He didn't seem thrilled at the prospect of losing his own vessel. 

"I'd be leaving her at port, and I fear I do not trust to leave her by her lonesome so far from home. Perhaps it's best I wait fer Spring afore I head out." Puukko tried to hide her disappointment. She couldn't fault the Moomins for hibernating, after all, she too was at the mercy of the seasons. She had only just awoke from her own hibernation at the arrival of Autumn. 

"Do you know the Snork?" Moominmama offered reassuringly. 

"Clever feller with those glasses tied 'round his ears? Aye, made him a lovely l'il folding knife couple'a years back. Redwood and gold. He got a ship?" 

"He's quite the inventor. He's just finished work on his flying ship." 

"Flying as in it goes real fast?" Puukko shot a perplexed look at both of the Moomin parents. 

"Flying as in it sails the sea of the skies!" Moominpapa delivered poetically, and with much gusto. Moominmama reflexively rolled her eyes with affection at her husband's playful nature. She laid her paw gently across the old pirate's wrist, assuring her that they weren't just playing a prank on her. 

"It flies? In the air?! I've heard tell all kinds of tall tales but ne'er once a ship with wings!" 

"Well this version doesn't have wings, but she is seaworthy– er, sky worthy? Perhaps it's best to let the Snork show you himself. I'm sure he'd be eager for another voyage." Moominpapa's excitement returned to him as his taste for adventure grew. Moominmama wordlessly packed a few things in a basket for the Snork, and the three headed out to his workshop. 

Along the way, Moominpapa told the story of Snork and the many trials he faced in building a flying ship. He told of all the help the people of the valley gave in building the workshop, then rebuilding it after it exploded in an incident with the Muffle, and the first flight tests. He left out mention of the witch so as not to diminish Snork's accomplishment. 

"Ah, here we are. We're in luck, it would seem the Snork is already here, and working rather hard." Moominpapa opened the door without knocking, much to Snork's bemusement. The Snork's workshop was quaint and open, with no shortage of tools and equipment covering the walls in an organized fashion. Its rustic appeal did much to abate the otherwise proper order of its owner. 

"Moominpapa!" The Snork scrambled to hide the pages he had been working on at the drafting table, pencils and tools clattering to the floor. "This is the workshop of an inventor, you know! Many people might like to steal any secret designs within."

"Perhaps you ought to consider locking the door, dear." Moominmama teased. 

"And who's this you've brought with you? And into my private workshop no less!" 

"Check yer pockets, sonny. My name's on the inside of the grip o' yer knife. To my mem'ry, yer exact instructions were 'simple and efficient, but not without class'. Redwood and gold, convex edge, and no thumb stud." Puukko set her bag down by the door and took a lean against the wall, took out her pipe and chewed on the stem. 

"Ah, Miss Puukko! How nice it is to see you. I had meant to contact you about servicing said knife, but I've been so busy with my flying ship, you see."

"Seems a trend in the valley. The meanin' t' come see me, I mean. Perhaps I ought to start makin' regular maintenance trips down here..?" She scratched at her snout in thought for a moment. "Anyhow. So it's true that you've got a ship what can fly? And I'm supposin' this mightn't be it. She motioned to the airship, which was taking up most of the room in the work space. 

"Indeed! I invented it myself and now I'm both an inventor and the first ever skyship captain. Or, pilot, I suppose." He puffed out his chest slightly with his paws on his hips. Puukko walked around the ship, running her paw along its hull. She inspected the planks and admired the craftsmanship. 

"She's a fine vessel. Permission to board her, captain?" She chuckled. She was still dubious towards the idea of a flying ship, but her excitement at the prospect won out over her doubts. 

"Permission granted, but please do be careful around the levers!"

Puukko boarded the ship and began looking around as Moominpapa explained the situation, and what brought them to his workshop in the first place. 

"-and you see, going to Italy is quite a long trip. Mama says it's too late in the season to be out at sea even just to take Miss Puukko to the nearest major port. And my thinking was, it might be a bit faster as the Snork flies er- I mean as the crow flies." 

"Quite right Moominpapa, but I'm afraid you and your wife would have to stay here. My flying ship can only hold one passenger at a time." Snork patiently reminded him. "I'm working on a new version large enough to take many more but it's going to take some time and rather a… lot of.. supplies…" Snork's cadence slowed as an idea hatched in his mind. "Miss Puukko?"

"Yes Mr. Snor– ack!" Puukko hit her head on the doorframe of the ship's control room as she stood to face the Snork. She swore under her breath, collected herself and sighed. "What is it, my dear short inventor friend?" 

Snork did not follow the "short" comment and chose to ignore it. 

"I imagine you intended to pay for the trip in your usual odd fashion, what would you say to waiving your payment and return trip in lieu of me picking up some supplies when we make our landing?" 

"I believe I'd be amenable to that Mr. Snork. Need an excuse t' be at sea anyhow. Talkin' o' ships, how's about you tell me how this tub gets up in the sky with no wings?" She shot him an incredulous look. 

"One of the keys to the success of my flying ship is in its round flight balloon. My first flying ship was a flop, wings simply aren't as efficient when dealing with a ship of this size. A round balloon was the solution, the idea was all thanks to a dream Moomin had." 

"Why are you saying 'round' like that?" 

That evening, Puukko stayed with the Moomins. It was a pleasant change of pace for her, having company. The house was mostly quiet, save for the boisterous and hearty laughs of an old pirate and the jovial expressions of young Moomintroll. She told him tales of the sea, omitting of course many of the harsher realities of piracy. He'd begged her to drop by and visit again soon to teach him the proper way to use a sword. She of course agreed, provided he asked his mother's permission. Despite the time that had passed, Moomintroll still seemed to be a cheery and eager youth with a taste for the dramatic. The fact that not much ever changes for long in the valley filled Puukko with a complex feeling. She couldn't quite parse it at the time, but it was both a comfort and a curse. After Moomin headed to bed, Puukko delighted in the simple presence of Moominpapa and Moominmama. It was both the longest and the shortest night at once, with laughter and stories, and the aching melancholy knowing it would soon end. For Puukko, being lonely wasn't the same as being alone. She'd always liked to spend her time by herself, but that made the company of others all the sweeter. 

Morning brought with it the cool breeze of autumn, and for Puukko, a tangible excitement she hadn't felt in decades. She felt the thrill of a new adventure climbing her back and the anxiety of something new altogether in her stomach as she made her way to the launching ground near Snork's workshop.

"Ahoy there!" Moominmama smiled with her eyes and gently waved her paw. "We thought we'd come early to help Snork get things set up. Did you see the pancakes I left for you on the table?"

"That I did! And the lovely note. Yer hospitality leaves none to be desired Moominmama. A fairer maiden there's ne'er been." Puukko put aside the thought of one other woman. 

"Ahem." Moominpapa coughed.

"And her fine husband, o'course." Puukko placated him with a playful eye roll. 

"Have you got all the things you need for the trip, Miss Puukko?" The Snork exited the cabin of the flying ship, wiping oil from his paws with a rag. 

"This'un here's me an' mine, and all I'm bringing along." She gave the bag at her side a hearty slap. "Seems a might bit heavier today, though I'm sure that's just nerves." She winked at Moominmama, who in turn looked away coyly. 

"Well if you're all set, climb aboard!" Snork re-entered the control room. He returned shortly with a rope ladder, and tossed it overboard. The balloon atop the ship was full, and the hoses used to fill it cast aside. Though it was still for the moment, the lift provided by the balloon made it seem lighter than air, as if it would be blown away by the wind any moment. Puukko trusted the Snork's capabilities and the word of the Moomins, but she couldn't help but feel a little timid now that it was time to take off. She boarded and set her bag down in the control room. 

"Wait just a moment." Snork's expression narrowed. He adjusted some levers and knobs, much beyond the ken of the old pirate standing just away from him. "You know, my first design was intended primarily as a proof of concept, which meant cutting out additional weight such as quarters and storage. Which means…" He spoke as if not to his passenger, but aloud for the room. He stretched his arm above him, reaching into a space replete with various complex parts of the ship. 

"Hey, watch it!" 

Someone was hiding in the small chamber. Snork lowered his arm, revealing he had found a small girl dressed in red. 

"Well if it isn't Little My. I would've thought by now you'd have grown tired of stowing away. You've made multiple trips aboard my flying ship by now! I knew you'd be in here, you may be small, but there aren't many places to hide in he– yeowch!"

"Don't go interrupting other people's naps!" The uninvited guest shouted with a voice much larger than herself. Little My had bitten Snork's finger, loosening his grip on her. She bolted through the open door and over the side with a pitter-patter of little shoes all along the way. Puukko, bewildered by the sudden appearance of a strange and violent child, still laughed aloud at Snork's misfortune. 

"'ave ye a problem with stowaways often?" She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, catching her breath from her laughter. Little My's cackling continued to trail off into the distance as she made her escape. 

"It's usually just the same stowaway every time." He nursed his paw. "Would you mind pulling up the ladder?" 

"Aye aye, captain." She continued to chuckle. She rolled up the ladder and tossed it onto the deck, waving her goodbyes to Moominmama and Moominpapa. The two smiled and waved in return. 

The ship began to lurch, and the propellers to each side spun up. The whirring was loud and unsettling to Puukko, who had little to no experience with machines.

"Strike me pink!" She shouted over the wind as she dug her claws into the railing, ducking down somewhat. She watched as Moominvalley began to pass by her faster and faster, at first just the empty patch surrounding Snork's workshop, and then the whole valley itself. The speed and intensity of the wind coupled with the climbing height was both thrilling and terrifying.

"Well I'll be scuppered! We're actually flying!" She continued to muse and laugh in disbelief as the world below grew further and further away. "Snork! Can ye pass by me homestead? I should like to see it from above!" Once the ship had reached a steady altitude, Snork stepped out of the control room to meet with his passenger. 

"It's a long way to Italy. I imagine we won't be seeing each other for some time. This isn't goodbye, is it?" Snork grew concerned, wondering if he'd set off too eagerly before anyone had the chance to say a proper farewell. 

"I should think not, cap'n. Though I fear I might be gone awhile. My yearnin's keep me wanderin', but me heart belongs in Moominvalley." Puukko never once looked over to him, staring off at the great expanse below. "Bless me tail! I still can't believe we're flying…" She thought on how this would make for another good tale to tell, if only the beginnings of one, and at last, she thought of one person she'd like to tell it to more than anyone else.

[hideyseek]

/BARGES IN/ HELLO BUDDY REVERSE UNO CARD FANFIC ASK MEME 🥺, 🤡 , 🛒, ⌛

HIIIIIIIIIII ENNJI <3 I LOVE 2 BE UNO REVERSE CARDED!! also haha sorry these got ... quite long (i can talk about how long it takes me to write a thing for SO LONG buddy) so i'm putting the whole thing under a cut.

from these fanfic writer emoji asks

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

mmmmmmm.... had to think about this one for a bit because the types of interactions i tend to write for kakehai aren't actually the ones that put me in MY feels, haha. but i think moments of very small and mundane domesticity are moments i really like -- there's an almost off-hand kind of intimacy in that kind of sharing space that i'm really compelled by. that idea of like, oh this person is so familiar to me that things like reaching around them or being passed something by them is all happening somewhat subconsciously.

🤡 What’s a line, scene, or exchange you’ve written that made you laugh?

ohoho. i do think that i've gotten a lot less funny over the years, both as a person in how i interact with the world and also in the kind of writing i'm doing. part of this i think is just the particular bits of haiji/kazetsuyo that i latched onto (in particular contrast to the lighthearted, laugh-at-the-narrator, very romantic type of fic i primarily wrote for inception).

anyway, that to say i actually couldn't think of anything when i was answering this so then i went down a rabbit hole of google docs bc surely i'd written something i thought was funny in the last year and genuinely all i could find (though admittedly i didn't search very hard) was this snippet from a kunikidazai pwp ficlet i started for bcsdp when kunikida's been lost in thought for a while:

“Ku-ni-ki-da-kun,” Dazai prompts. “What’s happening upstairs?” “Nothing,” Kunikida snaps, and wishes he’d said none of your business as soon as Dazai smirks.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

ok well i was going to say "i don't know but i skimmed through all my posted fic on ao3 and i had two whole fics that involved the pov character being a forger of some kind and a core romance-related theme being 'what is real vs what is valuable' which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice".

but then i remembered that i have like, three or four wips across a couple fandoms that are all basically "what happens to my blorbo guy after a big, life-changing experience ends and then he's left adrift and has to figure out how to be a person?" so i'll say that! i'm really compelled by the idea of having a like, identity-defining project and then having that like -- end abruptly and having a character still have to be themselves without it.

⌛ How long does it take you to write a fic, or a chapter?

SO LONG. ohh my god SO SO LONG. well okay that's not true, it really depends. one of my big "writing goals" (incredibly abstract goal, i would not say i'm working toward it) is to write faster.

i've gotten to a point where i can, more or less, rough out an outline of a 2-4k fic focusing on 1-2 character relationships with a single reasonably straightforward plot and no particular thematic intention in an afternoon, and probably draft it in a week (and revise in another week) if i'm not doing much else or the idea is really compelling and i don't get overthinky. a year or two ago, that would have taken me maybe a month or two of very like, focused and intense writing. but also there's like ... something about the 4k threshold that i just never can really cross with a fic like this.

but in terms of drafting and going from the start of an idea to an actual fic i am incredibly, incredibly slow. most fics that i'm writing now are more than 4k (even the mini version of heist!au is shaping up to be 5k ish) and are probably ... 3-5 drafts? for narrative!fic i've spent maybe 2-3 years now putting snippets in a evernote doc and drafted the first 1/4 to 1/3 of the story literally 4 times in the last year -- i'm like a chapter and a half into draft 4 now and that's taken already 2-3 weeks (and this was genuinely a fluke from the recent holiday weekend) and in my mind this is still a "first draft".

ok wow this was possibly more than you desire to know about how long it takes me to write things however haha i'm still not done! the thing that has been keeping me moderately sane about all this is this FANTASTIC BOOK called the art of slow writing by louise desalvo which i have also been reading incredibly slowly (i am about 60% of the way through and it has been since like, february of this year) but the book is this really wonderful (to me) collection of both desalvo's process and perspective of writing a novel, and a ton of referencing other writers and how goddamn long it took them to write things (with lots of gentle and loving mockery of writing as a practice, which i really enjoy). anyway! i recommend it -- whenever i get frustrated about how long a fic is taking i'll go read a chapter of this (they are all very short) and calm down about it.