#keep them peepers peeled

[leviiackrman]

Might have some new art this evening of a v different variety, stay tuned👀

[killemwithkawaii]

Why didn't anybody tell me that, upon the stroke of midnight on my 30th birthday, I would suddenly be struck with the irresistible compulsion to completely refurnish my bedroom???

[amazingmsme]

New Old Discoveries

AN: I am literally on the edge of my seat waiting for vengeance saga & my new chapter to drop, so here’s some very much needed fluff for our ghosty boy & day 28 of tickletober! This is set between last chapter & chapter 4 for context. Hope y’all enjoy! Be sure to keep your peepers peeled for that tomorrow night after the stream!

Polites was still getting used to the afterlife above ground. When he had been in Hades, everything was made with the dead in mind. He could walk on solid ground, partake of the food, he was just as much flesh and bone as everyone around him.

The earth wasn't where he belonged, not anymore, and it made that fact abundantly clear. He was there, but not really. You could see through him, reach through him. He could touch and grab things, but it required much effort and his hands would still partly phase through before finding purchase. He was there, and yet...

And yet he wasn't.

Of course, his friends insisted otherwise. Sure, his body might be gone, but he was right there with them. He had spent so long fighting to prove his existence to them, that now, he had no strength left to prove it to himself.

Some days were better than others. Today he just felt off. He thought spending time with the crew would help, but seeing them roughhouse and tease each other brought about a melancholic longing for the way things used to be. He retreated below deck, just wanting to be alone with his thoughts.

He didn't hear Odysseus call out his name, or the polite, "Excuse me," that followed. He was standing in front of a shelf, staring blankly ahead of him as his thoughts wandered.

Odysseus wasn't sure what to do. He had noticed the change in his demeanor since returning to the ship, but didn't believe it was in his place to question it. After all, he had only made the situation worse for the longest time. This was all still new to them, and if this was how Polites needed to process things, that was fine.

But he really needed the hammer on the shelf behind him...

He called out one last time for good measure, smirking when he still didn't budge. He looked his friend up and down, considering his options. He could see through his stomach to the tool resting on the shelf, was it really just as simple as reaching out to grab it?

They all had made sure not to cross certain boundaries with Polites since he returned. They didn't ask what dying felt like, they tried not to stare at his wounds, they pretended like it was totally normal for him to phase through walls, and they didn't walk or reach through him. He wasn't sure why or how these rules were established amongst them, but it was universally understood without much communication.

But boundaries had always been more lenient between them. They were best friends, brothers by choice, so surely he wouldn't mind if he just slipped through to grab what he needed.

Polites was ripped from his thoughts when a sudden tingling sensation shot through his whole body, emanating from his belly. He jerked back with a yelp, phasing halfway through the shelf.

Odysseus was staring at him with amused bewilderment, standing there with a hammer in hand.

"Did you really just reach through me to grab that?" he asked incredulously, failing to hide his growing smile.

"Sorry, I tried to get you to move but you didn't hear me," he explained, a smirk firmly in place. "Thought you wouldn't mind, but I should've known you'd still be ticklish," he took the opportunity to tease him.

Even as a ghost, the memory of a blush dusted his cheeks. "Hey!" he whined, despite the giddy feeling swelling in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this.

And then he remembered the last time Hermes paid him a visit. Oh yeah.

"So what's it feel like when I do this?" Odysseus asked, reaching out to stick his hand through his side, wiggling his fingers as he did so. Polites let out a giggly squeal, twisting to the side as he drifted away, but Odysseus followed.

"Ihihit tihihickles, what doho you thihihink?" he sassed, only to snort when his other hand joined the fray.

"It was a valid question, smart ass!" he scolded playfully before continuing this sudden round of questioning. "So does it feel any different than it used to?"

"I-I dohohon't knohow!" He really wasn't sure, to be honest. Yes, it still tickled like hell, but in a different way than he was used to. When he was alive, the feeling was more or less localized to the targeted spot. Now, it radiated through his whole body, but felt strongest where Odysseus was reaching through him. "M-mahahaybe?"

"Hm, interesting. We'll have to investigate further," Odysseus decided, winking at him before swiping at his ribs. Polites shrieked and tried to float away, only for Odysseus to catch him by the ankle.

"Nohoho we wohohon't!" he argued halfheartedly, tugging weakly on his leg. He wasn't exactly sure how Odysseus was able to both hang onto him and phase through him, but he wasn't able to dwell on the thought as fingers scribbling over his foot had him snorting and giggling, desperate to get away. He was still wearing shoes, how was that even possible? None of this made any sense.

"Sure we will! This is a profound discovery!"

"Nohoho ihihit's nohohot!" he insisted through bubbly giggles. Odysseus arched a brow because he really didn't sound surprised. And then it clicked.

"Wait a second, did you know about this?” he asked, wiggling his fingers faster when Polites tried to answer, drawing out a giddy squeal.

“N-nohoho!” he denied, his voice high pitched, and not just from the laughter.

“You really suck at lying, you know that? Especially when you’re laughing your ass off,” he taunted. Polites blushed a little darker at his words.

“Thahat’s nohohot fair!” he whined, but didn’t protest further or put up much of a fight.

Odysseus lit up as a realization dawned on him, and he paused to give Polites a chance to answer. “So was this what Hermes meant when he said he had to cheer you up?”

Polites bristled at the question, eyes flying wide open to stare at his friend in shock. “What?” he squeaked, because how the hell did he know about that? “No!”

But Odysseus was already laughing. “Oho man, are you serious!”

“It’s not funny!” Yet the smile on his face said otherwise.

“You’re right, it’s hilarious!”

“Odysseus!” he cried, trying to smack his hands free, but unable to focus enough to shove him away. Or maybe, he just didn’t want to.

“Polites!”

“It’s nohohot funnyyyy!” he repeated through giggles when Odysseus chose that moment to strike again.

“Don’t you know humor is subjective?” he chuckled at his own joke while Polites managed to groan through his laughter.

“Ohohody, come ohon!”

“What? I’m just trying to cheer you up! Like Hermes did-”

“SHUHUT UHUHUP!” he interrupted with a piercing shriek when Odysseus went back to scribble and phase through his belly.

“No thanks, I’m good,” Odysseus shrugged him off, continuing to explore all the spots he knew so well.

Odysseus couldn't be happier. Ever since Polites returned, he hadn't been the same. It was still him, but he wasn't himself. He wasn't happy anymore, not the way he had been. That bright carefree smile he saw every day became a rare sight, and he hadn't heard him laugh since they were on the island with the lotus eaters.

Now they were laughing, teasing one another, and it was (almost) just like old times.

They both needed this.

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th - June 2024

What gives you the motivation for not giving up on Wander Over Yonder?

Well, for starters, when Craig McCracken brought up the uncalled-for cancellation, he also brought up the existence of…

The Plans

Here’s what Craig said in his Tumblr post from March of 2016:

“About a year ago we presented a pitch for a season 3 arc that promised to bring our characters together in new, unexpected, and hilarious ways. And just as S2 evolved from S1, we had a really exciting approach to evolving S3 even further. We had plans for new characters, the return of old characters, and even a bit of backstory! We were all really excited about the new direction and so were our bosses at DisneyXD and TVA.”

“Unfortunately, the higher up bosses of bosses of bosses at Disney decided not to continue with the show. It's not that they didn't like Wander, they just felt that 2 seasons and 80 cartoons was enough and they didn't see the need to produce any more.”

“For the record, this decision had nothing to do with the ratings performance of S2. Truth be told, we were informed that we wouldn't be continuing before S2 even premiered.”

If what he said is to be believed, the mediocre performance of S1 on Disney XD made the “higher up bosses of bosses of bosses” think WOY shouldn’t continue after S2, so they decided to cancel it five months after the pitch, one week before The Greater Hater premiered. Big mistake. After nearly a decade, Craig still keeps the plans for S3 under wraps, but his talk of S3 is enough to pique my curiosity. He piqued it even more when he brought up Star Force Enforcement Force in 2021. Truth be told, he knows way more about that third and final season than he let on.

At first, I thought S2 would wrap up the show nicely. Boy, was I wrong - it wrapped up S2, but not the whole show. Once I checked out The End of the Galaxy, I knew right then and there that one more season was planned, because in the end credits, I saw…

The Cliffhanger

I will admit, I found the last couple of minutes anticlimactic. Dominator spurned Wander’s friendship, Hater is still cuckoo for conquering (much to Peepers’s delight), and the main four are practically back where they began. I reiterate, it wrapped up the season nicely, but not the whole show, because what I’m about to describe is indicative of the show’s unfinished business.

Dominator walks off in angry defeat, trying to peel an orange (or open a jar of jam if you prefer, assuming you looked closely at what she grabbed), and she grumbles, “They’ll get what’s coming to them.” Unbeknownst to her, she passes by a crash-landed space capsule with its door unhinged. Green lightning flashes, ominous Hater-themed music plays, and simian screeching is heard and fades into Hater’s evil laugh.

How is this anything less than an indicator of unfinished business? If stopping the show here is not a bad move, I don’t know what is. I’m positive English primatologist Jane Goodall would not be pleased with the decision to leave an ape stranded in space with no one around to help him. The question remains: who would find that space ape? Wander and the passengers aboard the Star Nomad or Star Force Enforcement Force? Only Craig and those who worked on the pitch with him would know and so would the bosses of Disney XD and DTVA. There’s also something that was on my mind after I watched the season finale. I shall now tell you about…

The Missing Pieces

I’m, of course, referring to parts that were absent from the episode and left unexplained. We’ve got the other villains, most of whom were last seen in The Bad Neighbors. Emperor Awesome made a silent appearance in The Sick Day, and that was it. As a certain @koskela13 indicated in a post 8 years ago, the villains never mustered up the courage to help the heroes fight against Dominator. There’s also Buster, the planet-sized puppy dog whom the Ballzerians call home. Since Beeza and the Ballzerians were among the refugees, he had to have fled from Dominator’s galactic onslaught. I found long ago that he’s supposed to be all right, but where he is remains to be seen. Same goes for Janet the Planet and her moon, Maurice; however, it was said that they were on their honeymoon, hence their absence in S2. Another thing that I think was left out was Wander getting to sing/play his banjo. Think about it, if the crew had wanted to stop after S2, would they have had Wander perform a glorious reprise of an upbeat song right after Dominator’s downfall? That was never done. It’s pretty obvious.

Moving right along, another thing that keeps me motivated is…

The Fan Content

Over the years, I came across countless fan pieces to make the Internet aware of the show’s existence, such as @wanderin-over-yonder’s calendars. It’s possible to come up with WOY-related activities, original characters, and meta gags.

Master Yisuko

Dr. Otmar Vunderbar

In case you haven’t guessed by now, the possibilities are endless.

I would expand more on the Star Nomad, but I’m sure you can find the information in my previous posts. As long as we’re talking fan stuff, let me refer to…

The Supporting Characters (and their VAs’ Longevities)

Apart from the five major characters, The End of the Galaxy had at least ten other characters speak solo (King Bingleborp, Destructor, the Cashier, Prince Cashmere, Neckbeard, the Lost and Found Guy, the Black Cube, Mittens, Major Threat, and Michelle). All the others barely had a chance to shine. For that reason, I put my effort into showcasing as many of them as I could in my fan fiction, The Eye on the Galaxy. What’s more, some of those characters are performed by voice actors over the age of 50. Stella Starbella was voiced by June Squibb, who was in her mid-80s while WOY was running. Today, she’s a nonagenarian, and if her performance in Inside Out 2 as Nostalgia is any indication, it’s not too late for her to reprise her role as that character. We might have until 2030 to revive the show, assuming June lives to be 100.

By the way, Major Threat was said to become a recurring character in S3, and we’ve yet to see him actually interact with Wander long after he put his days of villainy behind him.

Now I wish to bring up…

The Luck of the Other Shows

A vague and unconvincing reason for WOY’s cancellation was that two seasons/80 episodes were enough. I mean, really? Disney never felt that way about Fish Hooks, which I believe has three seasons and 110 episodes. Also, they allowed Star vs. the Forces of Evil to run for four seasons, putting it well over 100 episodes. And how about Big City Greens? Although not as frequently brought up as Gravity Falls, Amphibia, or The Owl House, it recently managed to get a whopping five seasons. They’re treating it like it’s the new Phineas and Ferb, although there’s no merchandising or presence in the parks. When I compare WOY to the aforementioned shows, it’s clear to me that it had the worst of luck. Heck, I wasn’t even sure if those other shows had pitches for later seasons. We can’t stand idly by while the plans made for WOY remain shelved. It just wouldn’t be right, y’know what I mean?

One more thing…

The Other Fandoms of Shows With Unfinished Business

I’ve noticed the presence of fans of shows that still have more to tell, including, but not limited to, Sym-Bionic Titan and Glitch Techs. One show that’s being resurrected as we speak is Sonic the Hedgehog (SatAM), which ran in the 1990s for a measly two seasons and, just like WOY, was left on a cliffhanger (in this one, Snively re-emerges in a different outfit and is raring to take his uncle’s place and put a stop to the Freedom Fighters, and behind him stands Naugus, who somehow managed to escape the void). Fortunately, a group called Team Sea3on are working on a S3 premiere titled “Return to Robotropolis.” You can find this group on just about any social media platform - their determination to right the wrong done to the show is truly inspiring.

Did I mention shows like Hey Arnold! and Samurai Jack got closure after years of being neglected and incomplete? The same thing could happen to WOY if we persevere. Invader Zim, which also only got two seasons, got its overdue closure (I think) in the form of a Netflix-exclusive movie. If a season is too much work, fewer episodes or a two-hour TV movie should suffice.

And I think that’s about it for now. I hope all this information was enough to keep you all motivated! Fight on for fairness, my friends, and to those of you who think of The End of the Galaxy only as a SEASON finale, I thank you.

#CanceledCartoons

[daffodil-mania]

The Itch

Stanford era!Sam Winchester x fem!Reader. Swearing, sexually suggestive/explicit language, mentions of drugs and alcohol. No smut (yet); this one’s a good ole fashioned slow burn. Takes place around 2002-ish

Author’s notes: Helloooo! I said I had something longer, and here it is. I intend on turning this into a multi-part fic, so keep your peepers peeled! I didn’t post sooner because while I had ideas for this fic, nothing was really clicking for me. However, @uncouth-the-fifth recently shared some Sam AI chatbots she’d made (which I highly recommend you use btw) and after using one of them my creative juices started flowing again, and out popped this fic. Enjoy!

—

The air is thick with the competing smells of booze, weed, and sweat. Some fratbro’s shitty spin on house music is booming at a deafening volume throughout the house, and all around you people are drinking, grinding; generally having the kind of time you’d expect at a frat party. It’s Valentine’s Day, so the amount of couples making out in corners has increased drastically, much to your chagrin. Your friends had dragged you here under the pretense that you all needed to blow off some steam after another grueling week of tests and homework. You have to admit, the idea had been tempting; you don’t consider yourself a party person, but you’d had this itch to do something outside of your normal routine. The itch had developed suddenly a week ago while you were standing in line at your favorite coffee place, debating on ordering your regular cup of joe or really spicing it up and asking for a shot of espresso when you saw him.

He was good-looking, sure; tall, despite his seated position at one of the tables, broad-shouldered and well-built with these soft hazel eyes that just screamed “kicked puppy in need of someone to take care of me”. But none of that is what kept your gaze on him. No, as ridiculous as it sounds, it was his hands. Huge, muscular hands that made your mouth water just thinking about them. Ten long, thick fingers that dexterously flew across his keyboard as he typed. You were hit with a barrage of hand-related fantasies ranging from dirty to holy fuck that’s dirty when the barista cleared her throat and brutally snapped you back to reality, causing you to stammer out an apology and place your drink order with haste.

Ever since then, you’d been haunted by the memory of those hands and felt “the itch”, as you called it. It was an aching want that existed deep in your gut, and it demanded satisfaction. It clawed at you, showing you images of those ginormous hands pawing you, squeezing your neck, your tits, anything they could reach. You’d done your best to resist, throwing yourself into your coursework, hoping desperately that if you ignored the itch it would go away. But it didn’t. So here you are, at a frat party, trying to find a way to scratch your itch so that the ghost of those hands could be put to rest and stop tormenting you.

You take a sip of the drink you’ve been nursing all night in a secluded corner of the living room and make a face. It tastes like piss and vodka’s evil offspring. You look around for a place to abandon your solo cup, but decide that you should properly dispose of it so no one knocks it over, or worse, drinks it. You crane your neck over the sea of sweaty, horny college students and map a path to the kitchen. Your friends had abandoned you long ago in favor of going onto the floor to dance, so your trip to the kitchen will have to be a solo mission. You take a deep breath, mustering up your courage and preparing yourself for the bumpy journey ahead, and plunge into the crowd. Things are going smoothly enough and it looks like you’ll actually make it to the kitchen unscathed when someone suddenly slams into you. Thankfully, you’re pushed into a sorority girl, so you manage to not eat shit or get trampled to death. Unfortunately, this crushes your drink against your chest, drenching the entire front of your top. Miraculously, the sorority sister is spared, and she doesn’t even seem to register the fact that she’s been bumped into.

You turn around to glare at whoever just ruined your favorite shirt and come face-to-face with a solid wall of muscle. You have to look up to get a good look at your assailant, and you see it’s him. The guy from the coffee shop. All of your anger is quickly replaced by an interesting cocktail of shock, embarrassment, and need. You thought he was big in the coffee shop, but standing before him now makes it clear just how fucking massive this guy is. He clears six feet easily, and you can tell he’s got miles of muscle underneath the henley he’s layered under a faded tee shirt.

You manage to drag your eyes away from his chest and see that all of the color has drained from his face, puppy-dog eyes apologetic and wide with shock. He’s speaking to you, but with your height difference and the ear-splitting music you can’t hear him. You pull a confused expression and have to shout “what?” a few times over the music before it gets through to him that you can’t hear a fucking word he’s said. He looks around quickly, then gestures for you to follow him. You do, confusion and nerves swirling around sickly in your stomach. Eventually he leads the two of you to a quieter corner of the room, and resumes his rapid-fire apologizing. “Jesus, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bump into you, I swear, I was just trying to get away from my friend who kept trying to introduce me to this girl and I—“

You hold up a hand to silence him and force yourself to smile. “It’s okay, shit happens, I get it.” He shakes his head, unsatisfied with your response. “No, no, seriously. I feel awful about your shirt—“ you don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to look at your front, and you realize with a blush that he could probably see down your v-neck if he wanted to, “—and I really want to make it up to you. I have an extra shirt in my car if you want to change, and I’ll get you a new drink, I promise.”

The poor guy looks like he’s about to have an anxiety attack, so you wave your hand again before laying it on his arm. His eyes snap to where your hand has curled around his forearm and you jerk it away, uncertain of what possessed you to touch him. Great, now he thinks I’m some kind of perv. You clear your throat before you start talking again. “Um, yeah, a-a new shirt would be cool. Oh, but don’t worry about the drink though; it uh, it sucked. I was actually on my way to get rid of it when you bumped into me, so maybe spilling it was a blessing in disguise.” Jesus Christ, you’re rambling and stuttering like a kid asking out their high school crush. You nervously tuck some loose hair behind your ear and try to inhale some calming breaths, cringing at your social ineptitude, and look up at him. He’s smiling kindly, revealing two adorable dimples that make you want to melt into a warm gooey puddle on the floor.

“Yeah, I tried one of the drinks earlier; I don’t know what was in it but it was not good.” He scrunches up his face and pretends to gag, which pulls some genuine laughter out of you. His grin gets wider and it makes his eyes crinkle, and this has your stomach doing somersaults and your pussy clenching around nothing. The song changes and after a smiley beat passes he leans in a little closer and tells you his name. “My name’s Sam,” he practically shouts into your ear, “Sam Winchester.” You turn your head ever so slightly so you can give him your name in return. “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.” Sam straightens up and you extend a hand for him to shake. He accepts, enveloping your hand in one of his gigantic palms. You fight to keep a blush off of your cheeks. Your hands fall, but he doesn’t release you. Instead, he gives your hand a small tug, and nods over his shoulder. “C’mon. I’ll take you to my car.”

You dutifully trail behind him, your hand still wrapped up in his. If you weren’t appreciative of Sam’s height before, you are now; he effortlessly parts the throng of people around you, allowing the two of you to walk to the door with ease. And it’s only when the two of you step out into the chill of the February night air that he lets go of your hand, which you try not to read into. You cross your arms over your chest to trap some of the warmth that is rapidly escaping your body, your still-wet top clinging coldly to your frame. There are a few wasted stragglers on the lawn, and the music starts to fade as Sam leads you to his car. You’re mildly surprised when you see what it is; a black Honda Civic sedan. It’s a newer model, but it’s nothing fancy. You get the sense that while Sam isn’t very materialistic, he takes pride in his possessions and their upkeep. He pops open the trunk as you rub your arms, wishing that you had opted for more layers than just your v-neck long sleeve and a lacy camisole. You glance back at the house, wondering what your friends are doing as Sam goes through the trunk. After a minute he produces a black Metallica tee. You accept it gratefully and smile at him, cocking an eyebrow. “Metallica? You’ve got good taste.”

Sam clears his throat and awkwardly looks at his feet, his expression a bit pained. “Actually, it is… was… my brother’s.” He says, looking up at you through his bangs. You nod, and decide against probing for more information. He’s a stranger doing you a kindness; you don’t need to know about whatever family history that is capable of eliciting such a reaction from him. You glance at the road and then back at the house before looking at Sam. Your cheeks feel warm. “Um, do you mind covering me? Sorry, I know that—“

Sam cuts you off, flustered. “No, god yeah, of course. I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think.” He admits sheepishly, redness creeping up his cheeks as he rubs the back of his neck. You shake your head. “It’s okay, really. Um, and thank you, for the shirt, I mean. You really didn’t have to.” His expression softens and he gives a small shrug of his shoulders. “‘Course I did. I’m the one who bumped into you like a total jerk. This is the least I can do.” His response only serves to intensify your burgeoning crush on him.

You both stand there for a minute, just looking into each other’s eyes, something similar to tension but too clumsy and new to be called that building between you. A fierce shiver courses through you, and Sam apparently remembers that you asked him to cover you. He maneuvers the two of you so that the car is blocking you from any prying eyes lurking on the street, and he places himself in front of you to shield you from the people in the house. He turns his back to you, giving you some more privacy, and you murmur a quick thank you as a burst of heat goes straight to your core.

You quickly shed yourself of both your camisole and your top, thankful to be in a dry shirt that doesn’t reek of alcohol any more. You tap his arm to let him know when you’re done, and he turns to face you. He sees that you’re still shivering and wordlessly goes back to his trunk, leaving you a bit perplexed and holding your sopping bundle of shirts in your hands. He pulls out a gray zip-up hoodie and stands before you again. “You look cold,” he says, obviously. It’s a sweet gesture, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. Sam holds his hand out for your shirts so that you can pull on his hoodie, and you swap your bundles. As you pull on the hoodie, you tell him, “I really do appreciate what you’re doing for me. Most people would’ve just let me freeze.” You chuckle quietly, racking your brain for some other way to express your gratitude without sounding like a broken record.

Sam shakes his head, and another sweet, sympathetic smile graces his face. “Y/N, again, it was the least I could do, believe me.” You nod, and then gesture vaguely for your shirts. “Oh, right,” he says with a small laugh, adorably absentminded, and hands them over. As you go to take them, your fingertips brush against his, and you feel like you’ve been electrocuted. Deliciously, wonderfully electrocuted. The contact causes you to jerk your hand away, dropping the shirts. “Shit, sorry—“ you curse, and the two of you drop to your knees simultaneously to retrieve them. Your hands meet again, but this time the contact lingers. You lift your head to find Sam’s eyes boring into yours, his lips slightly parted, his cheeks flushed. And that’s when you feel it again.

The itch.

—

Author’s notes: I know this wasn’t a *super* long fic but I’m slowly pushing myself to write longer stuff. One of these days I’ll write something longer than 2,000 words, I promise. Anyways, thanks for reading!

[waxingrunes]

I’m absolutely LIVING for slutty wolfstar you do the best art, do you think you would ever draw like an aftercare scene w them? remus being dominant and absolutely wrecking his bf is the most amazing thing in the world but i’m super curious to see him taking care of sirius afterwards

I’ve thought about this and want to do it right, if I do. I draw a lot of nasty stuff because I love it and I wanted to roll out some dirty art in this otherwise conservative, pearl clutching fandom. But, Remus coddling Sirius in one way or another is so fucking delicious.

You’ve got a deal, I was just struck with inspiration as I typed this. Keep those peepers peeled.

[sil-writes-fiction-too]

Death of a Hero

Genre: angst, pure angst

A/N: this piece was written for Day 12 of June of Doom ( @juneofdoom, ) using the prompts "I can't stand seeing you like this" and "Grief". This one-shot is set in an alternative BG3 universe where Gale and Astarion both ascended, and Summer and Arwen are left to deal with the consequences of it. @wolfhunter89 and I came up with this idea together months ago, so I want to dedicate this to her. This scenario is mostly seen by Arwen's point of view and it generally focuses on the impact that Gale's choice had on Summer. There is so much more I want to write for this alternative universe, so keep your peepers peeled (something else might come out this month, just saying👀)

Arwen had never minded the quiet. Life could be so chaotic and loud that oftentimes she'd found herself searching for those rare moments of silence. They comforted her. Gave her a moment to just... exist. With the kind of life she conducted, she often found herself desperately wishing for even just a few minutes where she could enjoy the peace and quiet. And oh, especially after meeting Summer. The tiefling was always so full of crackling energy ready to burst at any moment! And if it couldn't manifest through actions, then it would manifest through words. So many words. For almost ten years Arwen's life had been filled with adventures and mishaps and chaos, all by Summer's side. She could clearly remember all the times she had looked forward to the night's arrival, so that she could bask in the nocturnal quiet.

She regretted all of them now.

There weren't many certainties in Arwen's life, but if there was something she was absolutely sure of it was that, no matter what happened to her, she could always turn to Summer and find the strength to go on. It had happened a year before, when she had finally realized how fucked up her entire relationship with Leon was. Summer was there, with a toxic relationship of her own, and with a clear solution in mind. A solution that had inevitably become Arwen's own ticket to freedom. It had happened even years before that, when her entire life still revolved around settling the score she had with her father. When the world as they knew it was ending, when her body had to go through the most horrifying ordeal and she could do nothing to stop it, when their friends were dying left and right no matter how hard they had been trying to save them... Summer was there. And Arwen knew not all was lost.

She would've done anything to be able to look at Summer in that moment and feel that way again. Like a new chapter was waiting for them. She had never thought there would come a day when she would be desperate to have all that noise around her again, and yet there she was wishing for just that.

Instead, the house sat quiet in the little forest, and her friend sat at the kitchen table with a now rather cold mug of tea in front of her. Her eyes trained on an empty spot in the living room, but with an unfocused and far away look to them. Arwen couldn't remember a single time when they had made a habit of drinking tea together. It had always been beer or some other kind of alcoholic beverage that kept them company while they talked, be it about the good stuff or the bad stuff. But Arwen knew her tiefling companion... and the last thing she needed at that moment was to get wasted.

The conversation had come to a halt something like twenty minutes earlier. No topic had seemed to stick as Arwen tried to distract Summer, take her mind off of things. She opened her mouth in an attempt to come up with something, anything to break that damned silence, but she closed it again when she drew a blank, defeated. Even looking at her friend was becoming a difficult task with how... broken she looked. So she let her gaze wander.

Looking around in that moment, Arwen thought of how ironic it was that the house she was sitting in was the type of place she had always imagined Summer would end up living in, before they left for Faerûn, and that yet she couldn't think of a place that was more ill-fitting for her friend in that very moment. The woman that had wanted to move in a house such as that had been gone for a long time, replaced by a woman that had a bright future in mind, to spend by the side of her beloved.

Her beloved.

Jaime had hurt her deeply in the past, drained her of all her energy and cheerfulness. Arwen knew Summer didn't like the person she was when she was with Jaime, but it still had taken her six years to finally leave for good. It had been the best decision she had taken in a long time. Jaime had hurt her, but Summer was better off without him.

Why couldn't Gale be like Jaime? Why couldn't he have been just another failed relationship? A stepping stone towards something better?

Why did he have to be the love of Summer's life?

She had never shined brighter than when she was by his side, and the wizard had somehow restored a part of her that she had thought lost forever. Summer was ready to marry him once their last adventure was finally over, and Arwen was sure that at some point he had been exactly on the same page as her, but somewhere along the way things simply... went wrong. Horribly wrong.

Up until that point Arwen had had no idea it would be possible to grieve the loss of someone who wasn't even dead, but there was Summer, doing just that. The half-elf still couldn't believe Gale would just... leave her behind like that. Didn't he love her? But then again, that was a stupid question, coming from Arwen.

With a sigh she got up from her chair and sat down by Summer's side, placing an uncertain hand atop hers. “... I thought about putting an altar in that empty spot, when I moved in. An altar. Me. I hate the Gods more than I can possibly say and yet I was ready to welcome one in my home. I should fill up that empty space with something else and yet I can't bring myself to do it.” She finally said, almost startling Arwen, who had grown accustomed to the silence hanging heavy in the room.

“I won't build an altar, but I won't dedicate that spot to anything else either. I can't let it go. I can't let him go. I want to see him so badly at times... but then I remind myself that the man I want to see no longer exists. Somehow that hurts more than if he was dead and buried. At least then I would still know he loved me. I would have a body to cry over. What do I have now? Nothing but the hole he left in me when he chose that stupid crown over me. I hate him Arwen, I hate him so much... and yet I still love him to death and it's killing me slowly with every breath I take.” Her voice wavered and cracked as she spoke, letting her sickening feelings pour out of her like a thick syrup. Each word was like a stab to Arwen's already shattered heart.

“Summer, you've gotta react, please. I can't stand seeing you like this.” She pleaded with her companion as she gently squeezed her hand, trying to tear her eyes away from that goddamn spot in the living room. Gale, or whatever the hell he wanted to be called now, didn't deserve to have so much of Summer's energy dedicated to the thought of him. Not after what he had done. “You are a hero, for Hell's sake, you fought against the Prince of the Abyss and came out on top! You survived countless impossible encounters and not one, but two apocalypses! You won't let this drag you down. I won't allow you.” Arwen knew it was a useless attempt, but she still tried to rile Summer up, to give her some kind of pep talk or something, like she had done for her many times in the past... but her friend only let out a humorless chuckle.

“I'm sorry Arwen. I know you are hurting too...” She said as she slowly got up from her chair. “But the hero you speak of is gone. I actually don't think she ever existed to begin with. Because if she did, Gale would still be here with me and I wouldn't be... whatever the fuck this is.” She vaguely gestured to herself with those words as a look of contempt appeared on her face. Arwen couldn't help but let out a huff.

“So what, you are going to rot in here for the rest of your days? No more traveling? No more adventuring?” She felt like a hypocrite, asking her friend these questions when she herself had been holed up in her home for the past few months with the sole exception of visiting Summer every now and then.

On her side, Summer knew that Arwen was trying her best to be there for her while simultaneously trying to keep herself sane, so she felt no anger or annoyance for her words. She just wished she didn't have to be seen like this by her, but there was no way Summer could even attempt to act normal.

“I really don't think I have it in me anymore, bud...” She gave her a very tired smile that didn't reach her eyes at all as she slowly walked towards her bedroom. “I'm sorry, but I feel so tired... I need to sleep...”

With that, Arwen knew the conversation was officially over. She watched her friend drag herself to her room and then she got up, ready to leave and yet not wanting to go home and face the deafening silence once more. Up until that point Arwen had had no idea it would be possible to grieve the loss of someone who wasn't even dead, but there she was... doing just that. Grieving the loss of the friend she once knew, the version of herself that she was when she fell in love... and her beloved.

Her beloved.

How could things go so horribly wrong?

[ratqueeninks]

Just two friends shredding and chilling, reach out to get this repeatable skateboard flash! And keep your peepers peeled for my Flash Friday, it will have some of my skateboard flash!

I used to skateboard in my parents garage as a teen, was I good? Nope, despite that fact I had fun!

A reminder that you can still enjoy things and not be a master at them 💚🐭

[adultswim2021]

The Venture Bros. #46: "The Revenge Society" | November 16, 2009 - 12:00AM | S04E05

Look, I love and respect The Venture Bros. Please know that I’m coming from a place of love when I say that this episode has that season three stank on it. 

Generally speaking, I feel like the show has ebbs and flows, vacillating somewhat between episodes where the humor and standalone adventure is emphasized and episodes that feel like an exercise in world-building and character lore. I enjoy piecing together the somewhat complicated story and character histories and stuff like that, because I love this show. But the reason I love this show is for standalone adventures and humor.

This one focuses on Phantom Limb’s reemergence as the head of the Revenge Society, which we find out is comprised of a lady’s shoe (Dr. Mrs. The Monarch’s shoe, I think), a Mug with the word WISDOM on it, and a toaster. Phantom Limb has lost his mind, and treats these all like they’re real guys. One of my favorite jokes of the episode includes the use of the oriental riff, used when Phantom Limb introduces his mug Wisdom. Guy’s gone so crazy that he’s assigned a race to a dang cup. 

This one features a lotta people explaining things to each other. We find out what two of the Council of 13 look like, for instance. We also find out that they are elderly Buddy Holly and the Big Bopper (now known as the Red Mantle and Dragoon, respectively), and they were coaxed away from the airplane that would have killed them by Phantom Limb’s grandfather Phantomas. The fact that these supervillains began life as kidnapped musicians is the explanation for why David Bowie is the Sovereign. Phantom Limb kidnaps Billy Quizboy and has him surgically place Dragoon’s head onto the Red Mantle’s body after attacking them so severely that such a drastic act is their only hope for surviving. They become another Jackson and Doc comedy duo.

Eventually, the Guild of Calamitous Intent show up to the Venture compound while Hatred, Hank, Doc, and Dean all sorta spit off into pairs and stall for time. This makes the episode feel a little listless, like those boring-ass sequences in the Two Towers movie where Hobbits are goofing off with those walking trees. I don’t mind scenes where nothing really happens and characters just chit-chat, as long as it’s funny. I don’t find these scenes to be particularly strong.

Okay, so Phantom Limb is trying to get the Orb (from before). Billy Quizboy knows where it is, which is why the Guild show up to the Ventures door. At some point, the Ventures confront the guild. Dean is paraded as the heir to the Orb or maybe the guild? I guess because Rusty’s grandfather was the protector of the Orb? I don’t know if I really “get” this part at all, but it’s all leading to the conclusion of the orb saga.

Dean knights the current Soverign as the heir to the Orb (I think?) and Phantom Limb tries to get it, only to find out that it’s broken. We then cut to the same flashback from season three, which shows Sandow seemingly strangle Rusty’s father’s father. The scene continues to reveal that Sandow simply broke the orb, and left the elder Ventures’ skull in tact. Apparently this reveal was planned all along, which is why they make the skull-smashing/neck-breaking sound a little metallic-sounding in season three.

The final scene also features a Brian Eno stand-in called Eon. I didn’t know who this was, honestly, and had to look it up. I know who Brian Eno is, I just mean I don’t think I remembered at all what that dude looked like. Is that the real Brian Eno doing the voice? Seriously, no source that would list such a thing lists an actor for him, nor do they point out that he’s voiced by “(unknown)”. I also don’t see anyone asking who the voice is. Am I dumb? 

Other stuff ahead: the dilapidated mansion that Phantom Limb brings Billy, Red Mantle, and Dragoon to comes back later, so keep your peepers peeled if you are a huge dork who likes remembering stuff from cartoons.

More other stuff: this episode pays off Hatred’s fixation on Billy, who is a child-sized but oh-so-legal little man. Billy is knocked unconscious and eventually finds himself in Hatred’s bed. The commentary, the book, and eventually dialogue from a later episode all insist that Hatred didn’t rape Billy; Hatred just cuddled him while he recovered.

And finally, the joke at the end, where Red Mantle tries to jam in a two-headed-related quip to no effect is real funny. I like that joke. See? I told you I love and respect this show.

[kadavernagh]

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Baxter State Park, hours from Wicked's Rest PARTIES: Regan & Jade SUMMARY: With only a couple days together remaining, Regan and Jade reach the “find endangered bog lemmings” stage of their relationship.

She decided Regan would come to rest here. Regan would not be drowned, choked out, or carved with an iron blade this time. This was a choice Regan could make, even as tangled as she was in the threads of Fate. Saol Eile would have the banshee, but not Regan. That would be Wicked’s Rest, and that would be Jade.

How long could you avoid thinking about something before it became flagrant denial? Regan suspected she and Jade were going to be figuring that out together tonight. Or maybe not. Maybe it would hit them tomorrow with a grip stronger than death as they curled around each other just as tightly (she would permit, she decided right now, one-time simultaneous holding, which her grandmother would surely sniff out the second she landed on Irish soil). Regan stole a glance – maybe more than a glance – at Jade as she hopped out of the car. How could she think of such things now? She would not spoil this time together; it was one of the few things that would have been made worse by spoilage. 

Regan paced away from the car a few steps, the blood rushing down into her legs. She called over to Jade, only half-serious (but completely serious if asked), “that was a long ride. Be mindful of pulmonary emboli.” She bit the tip of her tongue, trying to keep the sides of her mouth from rising (still foreign when they tried to do that, like someone else pulling her muscles). She didn’t think Jade took her warnings seriously, anyway, not unless they were to come with a convincing scream. “Okay, okay, you’ll be fine. The bigger hazard will be walking into each other or straight into the bog when it gets dark. We have a few hours, I think. Hm… if I do end up in the bog, you’ll leave me there, won’t you?” Pleading, not accusatory. “I will become a bog body.” And stay in Maine.

She yawned and stretched to the sound of red-winged blackbirds and the first crickets of the late afternoon. Regan hadn’t expected to see spring in Maine, let alone Baxter State Park, but the peepers were peeping and early blooms of pink and white wildflowers dotted the earth. Bog aster lined the path ahead, a sign of the proper environs for bog lemmings. 

But nothing could beat the presence sidling up next to her: Jade was spring, too. A force of nature that Regan was never meant to see here, but would not take for granted even for a second tonight. Eyes shiny and bright, the greens in them glowing, hair bouncing, lithe like she hadn’t just been cramped in a car all day, throat tired from talking the whole time (it didn’t feel like hours). Some strange, starstruck trance hit Regan out of nowhere, and she stared at Jade like a fool… again. How many times was that? After being next to each other the whole drive, listening to her breath like it was music, and popping m&ms into each other’s mouths like Regan wouldn’t accidentally steer them right into the ocean, she didn’t like being outside of Jade’s immediate orbit. Easily remedied, at least for– no. Don’t think about that. She swooped in quickly like she could outpace that thought. Regan pushed back Jade’s hair, letting it fall over her fingers, and brought her face closer, landing softly on her lips despite the speed. She closed her eyes, pressing into Jade a little more, absorbing her scent, her softness, her warmth, before peeling herself away and meeting Jade’s eyes, her mouth doing that strange thing again. Jade really was spring. And spring apparently made Regan dizzy.

She caught her breath after realizing she forgot she needed to do that. “What animal heads do you think they’ll have?” The logical question to ask after a kiss. Regan had conceived this as a day trip but, slowly, Jade’s idea of getting a hotel room, presented with admirable determination, won her over. The few photos of this hotel showed taxidermy on the walls, and though that wasn’t to Regan’s post-mortem tastes, it was leagues better than walls without any mounted animal heads. Jade just seemed to be happy to be going to a hotel at all.

But, first, the lemming. “They’ll be here.” Regan declared, shining at Jade, who shined back twice as bright. Had the lemmings they sought been alive, Jade might have scared them off with her radiance. Bás síoraí, she was filled with more sap right now than the maple trees. One day only. That thought squeezed her in all the wrong places.

“I know you can’t feel it,” Regan started, with a little note of sadness, extending a hand like it was too damn easy, “but there will be a lot to find here. I can point the way. And you can use your other senses – smelling for decomposition or listening for the flies.” She realized only after she said it that the latter might have been a mistake. “Not, I mean – don’t worry about the flies, a chroí. They won’t bother you. It’s like the classic stage fright technique. When you see them, picture them dead, like one might with an audience.”

——

The drive had been the stuff of dreams, actually. Regan did so well, by her terrible standards, at the wheel. (The bar was in hell). And in turn, Jade was the best passenger princess anyone could ask for. A few shaky moments aside, Jade didn’t think she’d ever loved a car trip as much as she had with Regan. (Except for Crossroads, the greatest road trip movie of all time). And to be fair, Regan would try arguing that some of those shaky bits might have been Jade’s fault anyway. And maybe, possibly, she would’ve conceded. Like, the bag of M&M was on Regan’s lap, what else was she supposed to do? (Did she linger more than she should’ve? Of course. Regrets? Zero). What mattered was, that they both survived hours cramped in a vehicle, and no one got pissed or yelled at or threatened to stab anyone. You know, usual road trip stuff.

She talked too much, though. Didn’t she? It was a super long drive and Jade was strongly against blasting any playlist out of respect for Regan’s no music rule (that Regan herself was willing to break cause of her, but), so that meant hours and hours entertained by the sound of her incredible voice only. That must be why her throat felt so strange anytime Regan looked at her with her new and improved sparkly blue eyes. Yup. That’s why it was scratchy and watery at the same time. (And sure, it started exactly when she got in the car, and not like… hours after, but… she couldn’t think of any other explanation whatsoever). At least it wasn’t super annoying, and she had plenty of drinks to ignore the sensation, so it was totally fine. (They did have to stop a couple of times for her to pee, though).

Things had to stay totally fine, cause Jade wanted it to be as breezy as possible, blocking any sort of reminder of why they had this very specific objective and why it had to be now and not in a few more weeks. Regan, on the other hand, had pulmonary emboli in her mind. Super chill. That was probably why they worked so well. Best of both worlds. She lifted an eyebrow at her, one that easily translated into seriously?’, but whatever sass she had tried to inject with the action evaporated with one glance. Regan was trying not to smile and… yup, that was a thing she did nowadays. Lots of times, around her. Jade still thought the earth shook each time it happened. 

She was so busy staring at Regan, that she almost missed the comment about bog bodies. Regan was joking, right? Having a laugh about something going very wrong, throwing the worst-case scenario so whatever happened, at least it wasn’t as bad. Regan’s tone made her entire body buzz, though. Inconveniently so. Jade would agree to whatever she wanted if she ever used that voice with her again. She gulped, jumping on the joke. “You did mention you liked bog bodies once, I’ll consider it. Maybe… I’ll bring you little offerings every now and then. How about that?”

Regan’s eyes were on her at all times, and Jade cherished the way she was being regarded, chest heaving from the intensity. Look, she loved preaching about how she knew her worth and stuff, but shockingly! Part of her was still surprised that anyone would look at her like that. Like she might be enough just as she was. (Though she wasn’t, cause Regan was leaving). Regan closed the door and made her way towards Jade immediately. She moved differently too, with ease. Not trying to keep some sort of soldier-like gait. She’d abandoned all effort to follow her granny’s codes. She had stopped fighting the gravity that drew them naturally toward each other, the pull she couldn’t rationalize. Regan moved toward her, simply cause she wanted her. Her, she wanted Jade. 

And somehow, it would never be enough. Jade alone wasn’t enough to change the ending, everything stayed the same. (Regan had to go). But Jade wasn’t one to ponder too hard on that particular aspect, not yet. She was too busy swooning over Regan. Watching her blossom before her eyes, just like the cute little flowers sprouting around them, except they all paled against Regan anyway. (Losers).

The unmovable force wasn’t so unmovable now. And there was no need for Jade to be the unstoppable force either. They didn’t have to brace for impact anytime they met. There was no fear of collision. Which, Jade had greatly enjoyed, every single time, don’t get her wrong. She was so used to that fast-paced, high-intensity, meant to burn fast type of relationship, that she thought it was all she would experience in life. (And okay, insert here all disclaimers about how they weren’t technically in a relationship) (Rub salt in the wound, why don’t you?).

The boiling tension was still there, it hadn’t left for a second since they met, but now their intentions rubbed gently against each other, words grazed each other with mastered compassion. It was unspoken, but they both knew it: They had something precious in their hands. Jade would joke about lubrication, but what was it if not that exactly? Agonizing push and pull turned into a sweet tandem, sleek and intimate and she would not trade it for anything. Not even a Crunch Wrap Supreme. (That’s when you know it’s the real deal). “Missed me, huh?” she teased, hazel eyes greeting her brightly, when Regan wasted no time to shorten the distance between them. The genius she was. (Cause time was what they didn’t have anymore). Give her the Nobel in gayness, Jade retired from contention, beaten fair and square. 

The kiss caught her off guard. Not that she’d ever complain, but her hands were fast around Regan’s body, pulling her closer, delighting in the soft brush of their lips that was unfortunately cut short. “Um, heads?” Jade blinked her daze away, mimicking the way her cats slowly rose from a nap. Why did Regan have words after kissing her? She planned on fixing that next time (cause there were still a few of those in the cards, at least). And what was she even…Oh! The hotel, right. Cause they were staying in a hotel room. For a night. Yup. That was a thing she convinced Regan to do. Sometimes, she was too powerful, wasn’t she? It was so generous of her to use her allure for good things (mostly). 

“Deer?” She guessed, gauging Regan’s reaction, 'cause yeah all dead animals were great, but like it or not, there were the darlings. The GOATs, so to speak. Squirrels were there, for sure. Deers too. Probably not goats, strangely enough. And honestly, if it were up to Jade, no head would hang in the room. But whatever, if it lifted Regan’s spirits after a potentially disappointing search, (she didn’t want it to be, but there was a chance), Jade would personally ask for every head they had available. (That was… how it worked right?) (Surely not the weirdest hotel request ever made). 

It was actually Regan who had the positive outlook this time around. A wonderful plot twist. She was basically glowing with her statement, and Jade couldn’t help but beam in return. She’d unlocked a glowing, positive Regan. It made Jade want to turn every freaking stone and…um, nature thingies to find the elusive lemming. She would get her one. She was not gonna be responsible for erasing that look. 

Point in case, Jade didn’t have the heart to tell Regan (pin-wearing, number one death stan) that she was pretty cool not being able to feel death around her. Especially when all Jade wanted to experience with her senses was right within reach. And very much alive (sorry to all decomposition). She grabbed the hand offered without hesitation, her heart fist pumping the air as she laced their fingers, and walked down the path. The skin-on-skin contact brought a rush to her body that almost made up for the fact that they were outdoors again. Eh, actually, it totally did. “Naked,” a shameless smirk pulled at her lips when she glanced at Regan. Then continued, matter-of-factly. “You’re supposed to picture people naked, for stage fright” Duh! Who lied to her? “I don’t wanna picture flies naked,” and actually, she didn’t want Regan to picture anyone naked either. She frowned, annoyed by the hypothetical scenario she brought on herself. “You’re right though, they’re here” She shook her head, switching moods quickly. Good vibes only. That’s what would attract the… um, dead lemming. Yup. Totes. “I can’t sense them, obviously, it’s just… when you say things like that, I believe them”.  

——

“Naked out… here?” Jade wanted to be naked in the woods? That was unlike her. The woods part (only). Quite fae of her, really; the fae were often naked in the woods, dancing around rings of mushrooms or lost humans or both. Regan had been ready to start shedding clothes (Jade’s if possible) but then Jade, annoyingly, elaborated. No, Regan was sure her dad told her it was picturing them dead. With a rub of friction-generating neurons she could even recall when he told her that – tone deafness did not excuse a child from being propped up on stage for a performance of Oklahoma. She was Tree 2, if she remembered, and plucked all of the paper leaves from the branches. “What good does that do? A naked audience would only prove distracting. A dead audience is a comfort. Dead has to be right.” She rolled her neck toward Jade, hair brushing near the crown of Jade’s head. “Some things are both, though, distracting and a comfort.” She was sure Jade agreed, because that shudder Regan felt across her skin had not only been her own.

This, Regan realized, was why Jade was opposed to taking her to see vampires again. But she would have been better behaved than tonight, with the pressure of hours (minutes, seconds…) currently on the clock. She cleared her throat and gave Jade’s hand a squeeze, a ‘put in a pin in it’, even though she couldn’t completely do that herself. Regan turned her cheek and gave Jade’s hair a quick kiss before pulling away. Again, she surprised herself. Had she really just done that? Just like that? That was so easy, so light. The kissing part. Not so much the pulling away or focusing that followed. As if the ride here was not challenge enough. Focusing wasn’t going so well. Her eyes kept getting sucked back where they really thought they should be – which was not in front of her.

Regan nearly tripped over the plank of wood designating the beginning of a boardwalk that would take them over the bog. Jade was bad for her knees. “They need to mark these better,” she proclaimed, “someone should write to the Park Service and inform them.” Yes. That saved her besotted face. 

Something buzzed over Regan’s shoulder, gone practically before it could be noticed, and she thought back on the flies. Her mouth drooped and she held Jade’s hand a little tighter. “The flies. They’re already naked, though, you know. It’s stranger to think of them with clothes.” 

A second ticked by too loudly in her ears. Regan hesitated with each word, but pushed herself to ask. How many times had she thought about it? Far more than she’d ever beat the uafásach things. “What do you think about the ones that scream? Cicadas?” She glanced sideways at Jade, like the answer was important. It changed little either way. So why did her foolish heart pound? Again? Always?

And – oh. There was something. “Hold on,” she stood straight, raising a finger. Her other hand froze in Jade’s. An answer would distract. It was hard to tell which side of her body prickled more. Jade was on her right and responsible for her cutis anserina (typical). Death somewhere on her left. So much for being worried about distractions; there were none more pleasant and ever-present than Jade. Regan let her eyes fill dark and, suddenly, the bog was teeming with life-that-was-death, tingling she could previously feel but not place. Small pockets of putrefaction bubbling at the water’s surface, dark waves radiating from a blackbird that was about to – oh, yes, down it went – and in the distance, about a field away, was something big. 

That had been what she felt. Her body snapped to life again, the patience gone from her voice, a hint of giddiness replacing it. “There’s something. A deer, I think. We should bring it to the car. It will be superior to the ones they have at the hotel, and it’s probably in remarkable condition. Now, we’re going to have to step through some of the bog here, and I didn’t bring waders, so how much do you value those shoes and pants?” She turned to measure Jade’s reaction – obviously not so excited about potential wading – and the breath left her lungs like she’d just screamed them raw. The evening sun turned golden over Jade, making her skin glow like the most beautiful, advanced jaundice. Regan stared even as the sun made her shield her eyes, glaring between the tree branches, casting every pond frond a dark silhouette. There was no one more gorgeous, inside and out. She had seen a lot of both – thousands. Even if Regan had to make educated guesses about Jade’s organs, it was… it was the brain, right? The mind. The heart, if she were going to be foolishly poetic despite anatomical sense. That was the inside she meant. She could stare all evening. Until there was no more light, and maybe no lemmings, but the image of her Jade would be burned into her retinas. 

When the sun did set, it would be okay. She wondered if the lightness inside of her was acceptance of the inevitable instead of denial. If so, was this how people felt once they understood a banshee’s scream, the death sentence? Did they find this peace? Perhaps she could come to think of this, with Jade, as her resting place this time, and not the slow dissolution of self that awaited her across the sea. Life should be defined by its peaks, should it not? Regan had seen hundreds of homicides and accidents that made her stomach churn, but it was those on her table who had a long, protracted illness who strangled her heart the most. She decided Regan would come to rest here. Regan would not be drowned, choked out, or carved with an iron blade this time. This was a choice Regan could make, even as tangled as she was in the threads of Fate. Saol Eile would have the banshee, but not Regan. That would be Wicked’s Rest, and that would be Jade.

——

Jade almost cracked up at how down Regan seemed to be for the idea of getting naked in the woods. (Noted!). But actually, it wasn’t the first time. Jade always thought she was a little too enthusiastic in the cemetery, wasn’t she? Maybe, probably, not the time to get flashbacks of that night. It was fine. Cool. Regan’s hand in hers was distracting. Her voice too, as she broke their silence. Jade shuddered. She knew Regan couldn’t do the whole ‘love’ thing, she was totally chill with it. Not even in an ‘I’m pretending to be chill, but I’m actually fuming sorta way’. Jade couldn’t (wouldn’t) ask more of Regan, these weren’t the scraps she’d been offered at the beginning. She’d like, gotten so much more than she’d expected after they kissed. So sure, love wasn’t in the cards… but sometimes, sometimes the weight in Regan’s voice, the glint in her eyes, the softness in her touch had Jade wondering. Was it wrong to think that maybe…

(Maybe, yeah) (With more time, Regan could’ve grown the confidence to admit it).

Regan’s lips on her hair pulled her out of her thoughts. Right. Enjoying the moment! (She was always so good at that, why was she so desperate for more now?). It was a good thing they were walking hand in hand, cause Regan wasn’t doing so hot, tripping on the boardwalk. Jade would’ve thought she had more experience than her outdoors. She snickered, her thumb tapping Regan’s hand in sympathy. “I’m writing them a strongly worded email as soon as we get back to the hotel,” how dare the Park Service try and hurt her… Regan’s knees. 

But her amusement didn’t last too long, and Jade should’ve expected it. Her smile disappeared once she heard the first fly near her ear. It was alright, technically. She wasn’t gonna panic or anything over one. Cause then she’d have to explain why she hated buzzing, and then she’d look dumb and weak, and Regan might start loathing her siblings too. (Except, she wouldn’t, Regan would make her feel safe about it) (Which might be even worse). It didn’t make it less unpleasant, though. Her body still felt a rush of adrenaline every time she heard that low pitch rising high the closer it got to her. Her grip on Regan’s hand tightened. At least for now, she could forget about the naked flies next to her ears and focus on the hypothetical ones instead. “Nope, I’m pretty sure they’re in full suits when they get all…” She didn’t even bother dropping Regan’s hand, just pulled it with her, rubbing her hands together, mimicking the flies ‘scheming’ movement.

“Cicadas?” She gaped at Regan. Cicadas were fine. Sort of. Again, as long as they were like, not all up in her ears. She could appreciate that they were loud and they didn’t care who knew it. And actually, how come Regan had never mentioned cicadas before… Jade thought she of all people would’ve appreciated their vibes. Kinda like the banshees of insects, no? She didn’t get to offer her opinion despite being asked for it, cause Regan lifted a finger (a distracting one, at that) and suddenly she went full-on possessed eyes again. She wasn’t angry this time, and Jade knew now, that this was Regan’s doing. Her gift. Like That’s so Raven, except Regan wasn’t getting a vision of the future, she was getting a death (or several). 

“A…deer?” she repeated dumbly, even if she’d heard Regan loud and clear. Regan wanted… but what about the lemming? Couldn’t they focus on getting the tiny adorable lemming? Why? Why not, was probably what Regan was thinking. But UGH. She was so cute and excited, and Jade meant it, she would do whatever Regan asked of her when she acted like this. She was mourning her clothes, though. Knowing they were not focusing on vampire hunting this evening, Jade had dressed a lot nicer. So, expensive pants and a really nice pair of boots. (The up-and-down look from Regan when she first saw her? Totally worth it). But the answer was simple here. Each time their eyes met, there was nothing to even debate. Did she value her clothes? Not as much as she valued Regan’s happiness. They weren’t even in the same league.

(She couldn’t even try to cuff her pants, they were too tight at the ankle. Curse her for being a millennial)

Regan’s gaze was fixed on something. Well, on Jade… but not really. Her eyebrows pinched together. She didn't think Regan’s mind was on those dead animals anymore. So it had to be like, huge to push her thoughts away. She wasn’t concerned, but she wasn’t not concerned either. She’d never seen someone so obviously have an epiphany before. Jade swallowed, meeting Regan’s gaze, who stared at her… kinda. What was she thinking about? It couldn’t be something small like, what to have for dinner (though that wasn’t small either, for some people) (She was people). Jade’s heart had one wish and one wish only, so it rushed to make assumptions. Regan had decided to stay, right? That was the meaning of that look. Had she decided the sheep were not that cute anyway? Did she realize her granny could wait a few more decades after all? (She was a hunter, she couldn’t have too many of those left). That would be so nice, actually. The staying obviously, but more so the fact that Regan was making the choice herself. So Jade wouldn’t have to fight Regan’s duty and plead with her to stay. Which, she wasn’t considering, technically. But present Jade couldn’t trust future Jade. The Jade from a few hours in the future, with nothing to lose and literally everything to gain. 

She reached for Regan’s cheek, hoping to bring her back to the bog. She still wanted this, right? “Where um…” Jade found her voice, shakier than she wanted it to be, but it was a lot you know? “How far is this deer? We could do it. Just one. We can't go picking everything around the bog,” before Regan could protest, Jade added the most logical explanation. “We didn't bring a bag,” duh! Maybe actually, this would’ve been the right time to bring that stupid winter coat with them. All the extra pockets. But she wasn’t gonna point that out. (And thank you, Snickers). “I’ll carry it myself so you don’t get your hands dirty,” Jade offered, which, actually… probably sounded like an offense to Regan, who’d be looking forward to one of those fine specimens. “Cause…You need your hands, for your lemming. Right? Or not! You can… Let’s get moving while we have sunlight.”  

——

The mental image of Jade dragging a dead deer through a bog was one of Regan’s all-time favorites (though, in her mind, Jade was not wearing a shirt and the moonlight shined off her biceps and reflected in the pool of trailing decompositional fluid and–) but… maybe it was best saved for dreams. The warm hand cupping her cheek did have her questioning if this was a dream. She froze for too long, heels in the mud, her brain working hard. Had anyone other than Jade tried to limit her, tell her she couldn’t or shouldn’t collect everything, she would have reminded them that their human opinion did not matter, and then strut right past them to proceed to scoop everything up anyway. Jade’s opinion mattered, though, and her logic even more so. It was a little easier if Regan thought of this as triage. And Jade had a point. The sunlight was dwindling and they were still lemmingless when they needed at least two. She was not leaving here with only one.

“You would do that for me? Wade to the deer? Carry it in your firm, weight-bearing arms?” Was that really a surprise? What would she do for Jade? Anything, her mind supplied instantly. But it wasn’t true, was it? There was one thing she wouldn’t do. The easy offer, despite Jade’s expensive-looking boots (real leather, Regan knew; she could always tell and it had nothing to do with fashion sense), made her heart soar as if it had wings of its own – and they were so incessantly loud, weren’t they? Regan looked off in the distance toward where she could feel the deer’s pull, one last time, before bidding it farewell in favor of Jade’s. “I think you need your hands, too. For, uh, things. Carrying. Et cetera. Um, maybe… we can come back for it? After we find the lemmings?” Though another thought occurred to her. They had nowhere to put the deer, other than in the trunk, and it was a long ride back to Wicked’s Rest. Jade’s nose had a lower tolerance for death than Regan’s did. No, they would figure it out. Except for what waited for them a couple days from now, Fate – or Jade, really – always steered them right.

Regan gave Jade a bright-eyed look; she accepted this outcome. That Jade had been willing was a better prize than the actual carcass. “You are as sweet as the stench of the dead.” Regan declared, and she decided that the soft, watery look in Jade’s eyes was even more lovely than the image of moonlight shining on that trail of fluid. They were in a bog. It should be soggy between them. But it was not only Jade’s sweetness, was it? Jade was trying to make this memorable; she knew what it would mean to Regan. There was a word on the fringes of her mind that she couldn’t put her thumb over and pin down. Jade wished her to be… something. Content, maybe. Whatever it was, Jade must have seen it clearly enough to know what would keep it there on Regan’s face. Those shiny hazel eyes saw everything.

She liked talking to Jade, looked forward to it every day, every hour (so maybe liked wasn’t nearly strong enough a word). But as departure grew closer, it became harder and harder to find a safe approach to what she needed to say, each potential danger like a patch of bogland to adroitly navigate around. Now it was hardest of all, yet there was more to say than ever. The most waterlogged of subjects and exchanges were going to be impossible to avoid later, but surely she could share some of her thoughts right now without dunking the both of them into the marsh. Something about Jade made her spill her contents. 

Regan leaned into Jade’s hand and the air whooshed out of her lungs as Jade’s eyes crinkled at her (surely a direct result of the golden hour and setting sun). “I never imagined I would have someone by my side when I did this, you know. I never imagined I would desire that. Let alone… well, I was just thinking about you.” Regan paused. “When am I not? And there is nothing and no one better who could occupy my thoughts. You’re deserving of everything I can possibly give you. So I will leave one hundred deer behind if it means I can find you a lemming, too.” She rested her forehead against Jade’s, curling Jade’s soft hair around a finger like it would tie them together and keep her close. “Maybe we should have booked an extra night.” The last night, right before those numbers stamped on her plane ticket. “You keep distracting me. How am I supposed to discern between you and a pile of lemmings, when you are such a presence? A… herd? A lemming of lemmings.” 

——

Regan had such a way with words. Jade’s eyes twinkled, laughter caught in her throat. She could listen to her talk all day. She wished to read her journal entries over and over again. (If only she could convince her to share more of those). She lived for those tiny glimpses into what it was like inside that beautiful brain of hers. “That’s um, quite the picture you paint. I dunno if I’d look as smooth carrying a dead deer as you make it sound,” her thumb brushed Regan’s cheek. I would do it, was implied. She’d do anything. Was Regan really questioning it? Did she know what the term ride or die meant? She should probably teach it to her, it would put everything in perspective. Though admittedly, she would love to be riding a little more, but that was neither here nor there. Her hand trailed up, running her fingers through blonde hair. “But um, how about you save those scenarios and write something later?” Later when? Jade wasn’t sure. Cause she already had other things in mind for later. But she loved to encourage Regan’s creativity. It must’ve been a huge outlet for her in the past. (If those pages were anything to go by).

She wasn’t expecting Regan to disagree with her when it came to the deer. Not that disagreeing was a strange occurrence. They had like, months and months of those in their history. (And sure, sometimes she only argued to get worked up, what about it?) But when it came to dead animals? Yup, she was a little confused. Regan was willing to give up the deer? Well shoot, Jade had to wonder if this was a test. Like, to see how much she knew her or how much she loved her or… Was she supposed to go against her wish and wade to that deer anyway? She’d passed the worm test, hadn’t she? She could pass this one too. Just… What was the right answer? Oh, she didn’t need one. 

Regan made up her mind. Like, for realsies. If her eyes lighting up with conviction were anything to go by. She would rather go back for it later, which was like super smart, actually. (When wasn’t she?) (Forget about the emoji subscription, that didn’t count). She cackled at her words, leaning closer until their cheeks touched. Only Regan could talk about the stench of death, and make her belly flutter. She never imagined she’d wake up every day excited to hear new comparisons to decomposition, yet here she was. (And she didn’t want it any other way) (Though, what she wanted never seemed to matter much, did it?). And fine, no deer for now.

Even if Regan’s mind was (allegedly) made up, it didn’t seem like her body had gotten the message. But like, in fairness, that had been a battle Jade had front-row seats to since that failed booty call. And she liked it a lot when Regan’s mind lost. This indecision came from a good place though. (The heart, she would guess). It almost felt like Regan didn’t wanna break the reverie between them. And Jade, as much as she was focused on securing that adorable lemming for her, was only so strong. Especially when she saw in those blue eyes that Regan was gearing up for something. Maybe she was about to share her epiphany with her. Yup. That was totally it. (Her stomach did some Olympic-level somersaults). 

Her eyes were already a puddle that could rival Van’s any day (sore topic, but it had to be said) just as the first words tumbled out of Regan’s lips. Jade felt the magnitude of Regan’s emotion in her first breath. Warm. Her feelings, her words. They contrasted with her cold skin, as Regan leaned forward seeking more contact, sending a shiver up Jade’s spine. That was a thing Regan did nowadays too. Just cause she could, just cause she wanted. Just cause no amount of touching felt like enough. Or maybe it was cause she knew how much Jade needed it? She was struggling to process what Regan was saying, cause… How else could she interpret those words but as a love confession? (Except, Regan had said…) It didn’t matter, what the exact meaning was supposed to be, Jade’s heart rattled in her chest anyway. Hopeful. 

(And how could she say those things, and then hop on a plane to move an ocean away?) (How was that fair?)

But Jade didn’t have fight in her, she wasn’t gonna ruin the last moments she had with the woman she loved, even if it all felt super cruel. (Cause nope, it wasn’t cruel actually. It was duty) (And Jade still respected that… Right?) Her body cared even less for grudges, it did what it usually did whenever Regan moved close. She fell into her gravity, fingers slipping behind her neck, lips asking for permission before pulling her in for a heated kiss. It had been too long. Alright, it had been like, five minutes. But consider the fact that she had to settle for a shoulder or a cheek in the car, okay? Which were nice, don’t get her wrong, but they were not Regan’s mouth. “So change it,” she demanded in a whisper, parting for a second, staying close enough to still enjoy the ghost touch of her lips. And breathe some more of that Regan air. (Premium, no doubt about it). “Give us another night…” She didn’t care how. If she paid more, if they switched rooms, if she used her fae binds, all Jade cared about was having Regan to herself for 24 extra hours. 

Regan did not kiss like she was being inconvenienced by her sudden urge to make out in the middle of a bog. And actually, Jade really had to wonder who had it worse of the two. But like, if Regan was the Nobel laureate of gayness, then it should be totally her, right? Jade kept pushing for closeness, even though it wasn’t possible anymore. Her boot got caught on one of the planks, and she stumbled forward, almost sending them into the bog. (Yup, that email was definitely being written now). With feline reflexes, she wrapped her arm around Regan, keeping her in place while sorting her feet situation. Geez. Her laugh resonated in the air, it seemed to infect Regan too. “I’m distracting? I’m distracting. I haven’t been able to think straight since I met you,” Regan totally altered her brain chemistry. There was no other explanation. Even after losing balance, she was ready to dive in again. Worth the risk. 

But then Regan said something wildly inaccurate, so of course she had to correct it. “Um. It’s so not a lemming of lemmings, that’s like… so silly. Why would…Maybe I’ll ask Van for the answer since she knew about the mice…” and thinking about Van and the mice worked a little bit like a cold shower, actually. She groaned, loosening her grip on Regan’s back. She hated this so much. “I don’t wanna get my hands off you, but I don’t want us to fall into the bog even more.” Regan’s early joke (joke?) aside, she didn’t think she was serious about becoming a bog body. And just like Regan was giving up a deer to find a lemming for her, Jade was giving up this opportunity. They would have time, wouldn’t they? Her body buzzed remembering they had a room to themselves waiting for them. (Yup). 

“We can do it,” Jade decided, planting a peck on Regan’s lips, intent on it being the final one. (They had lemmings to find). But then, that smile bloomed on Regan’s face and, well that was too tempting, wasn’t it? So she leaned in for another one. And then another… that lingered a little longer than it should have (Regan’s fault) and… whoops they were off again (her fault). Regan gasped against her mouth, hands roaming her body like the boardwalk might just have to do, and yup, awesome idea. Whatever kept Regan content. Until the thing creaked below them. (Freaking Park Services, what were they good for?). Jade’s eyes opened, looking around, understanding exactly where they were. Mmmm… nope. Did she so quickly forget she wanted Regan to be comfy in bed? Jade peeled herself away then, for real. “We’re gonna find that lemming,” she squeaked, keeping only a hand in Regan’s as she pulled further into the bog. 

——

Jade was hot and quick on her lips, and any thought Regan had of pressing herself to march onward to the critically important lemmings died with a whimper in her mouth. She had been teasing Jade all evening and finally one of them had grown bold (or shameless) enough to make it last. And Regan also intended to make it last. Her hands inched toward their favorite spot on Jade’s waist and she latched on, trying to bring Jade closer (what if they both fell in the bog together…), but Jade broke the kiss and had the gall to let Regan have air. “Bog bodies shouldn’t have this much oxygen, so stop letting me breathe,” she whined, trying to find exactly where she’d left off. There, right there, around L1. And Jade’s hair was curling so beautifully in the moist air, like a cluster of veins, and her eyes said she wanted this, so couldn’t they just– 

No, they couldn’t, apparently. But all was forgiven when Jade’s voice came out low and breathy, which had rapidly earned its place as Regan’s favorite type of whisper (also the only kind she liked – whispers were insulting). “Don’t tempt me on adding another night. You’re distracting and persuasive. And you would look amazing holding a dead deer.” The spell (metaphorical, always) broke a bit. Regan’s hands dropped a little, looser around her, and a small frown settled over her as she realized there was an actual decision to make. She disliked decisions, choice. Was not good at them, rarely had them. But this was a yes, right? Another night? Why not twenty? Or forever? Because Ireland. She paused, licking her lips and tasting Jade’s minty breath. “You know we can’t do that,” Regan said. And then, immediately, “fearg an chinniúint”. So she was going to call the hotel right now and do that. Regan fished her phone from her pocket. The no reception signal mocked her. She tried to hide her dismay. 

It was easy because Jade almost fell and took Regan with her, but managed to catch and right herself with impressive speed. It was the boardwalk, of course. It was rotting and groaning with every step they took. That was all. Regan looked over her shoulder where dark, swampy water waited for her. But even that heavy, earthy stench didn’t compare to Jade. Regan grabbed her shoulder and pulled herself the rest of the way toward Jade. 

Not even two seconds and she already had her hands all over Jade again, and it sent a current straight through Regan. It was her fault. What was that split second kiss? How was that fair? Sure, Regan had been planting those for the last couple hours, but… her complaints died and she closed her eyes, falling back into an easy and passionate kiss. Her skin prickled and the more she touched Jade’s the more it spread. Some kind of contagion. Jade’s shirt was bunching between her fingers and how many mosquitos were out here to be drawn to all that exposed skin, really? It couldn’t be that bad. Maine didn’t have… well, there was EEE and WNV, but those were hardly a death sentence, and parting from Jade had to be at least 30% lethal. “We can do it,” Regan agreed, panting into Jade’s mouth. What was Jade referring to? If they had some kind of blanket… actually, there was one in the car. They could just hop back over, grab it, and… no, no, that walk was brutal.

She wasn’t sure if that squeak was the boards again or Jade, but Regan went from having everything in her arms to only the gaping emptiness of air that smelled like rotting eggs (which was admittedly nice but not a fair trade). She opened her mouth, offended, because something had put a stop to what was about to be exemplary bog sex. But nothing had snatched Jade away. She did it herself. So Regan’s scrunched up face smoothed itself out and she tilted her head, confused. Then it made sense. How had she not thought the same, sooner? “Were you thinking it could be better with some remains nearby? Oh, the deer! Because… you’re correct. We should find–” Her eyes widened dramatically. “Lemmings. I – you –” She held a droopy, half-hearted finger pointed at Jade. “Unbelievable. How do you do it? I think it’s your, um… musk.” Yes, that sounded right. Regan twisted her mouth (and damn her lips for still being so warm). “No, you know what it is? Other than musk. It could still additionally be musk. You feel like a lemming. You feel like death, right by my feet.” She held out her arm, which was covered in goosebumps, hair raised. “Goose flesh, see? You don’t usually feel this decomposing, though.” Regan sniffed. “Or smell this decomposing.”

So maybe it wasn’t all Jade. How was it that a live person managed to be more persuasive than actual death? The pull of something dead just beyond them made another shudder ripple through her, and she couldn’t attribute this one entirely to Jade. A groundhog, maybe. She’d get it after. Because Jade was giving her that look and– no. Regan tore her gaze away from Jade. It was like ripping her own skin.

There, by one of the half-rotten supports for the boardwalk only half a muck away, in the shallowest pool of water, was a little brown lump. Regan registered what it was immediately. She jumped off the planks and – okay, so she landed in water a little deeper than it looked, but she slosh-ran her way over to the lemming.

“Jade. Jade. Jade look. Jade look. No, not at me. I am nothing compared to this. Look.” She was going to point but couldn’t hold herself back long enough to do that. Instead, she was right on top of where she had meant to point Jade’s attention. Obscuring it from Jade, actually. And despite that… “Look! Lemming! It’s a lemming! Our first lemming. And we’re in a bog, so presumably it’s a bog lemming, an endangered bog lemming, apologies to CITES, and you get to see it, and… wait, I can’t touch it yet. This is banshee history. Can you take a photo?” Regan practically threw her Blackberry at fortunately-well-reflexed Jade (complete with 8 megapixel camera) then realized Jade should probably use her own phone, anyway. Wait. No. That wasn’t right either. “Actually, come here. You need to be in it. Um, my phone doesn’t have a selfie camera. Also, I pressed a button and everything has been tinted blue for weeks. You might have noticed. Forget my phone.” Regan bounced nervously, feet jittering in the mud. The ground vibrated. 

Regan’s heart pounded as she so tenderly lifted the lemming from the reeds and boggy clay it had died in. For months she had been talking about this, dreaming about it, and now the little ball of fur was cradled in her palms like it was always meant to be there. A dreamy look settled on her face as she studied its tiny paws, its soft coat, the glassy surface forming over its eyes. Small animals like this were subject to rapid livor mortis, but she didn’t think it could have been dead for longer than a couple of hours. Not a single fly had located it before she did. Not a hair out of place, other than – well, the hair on its belly was pretty tousled from what seemed like friction, but there were no patches, no wounds. They had done it. An endangered bog lemming and it was hers. And she had Jade to… perhaps not thank, actually. She was distracting (they had been over this once or twice if Regan recalled correctly). But she made the evening immeasurably better. And were they going to have sex in a bog right now? And… and this was it, wasn’t it? The last thing she had to do in Maine. Other than– 

Regan beamed at Jade, who was perfectly clear and bright even as the setting sun painted the sky purple. Jade found her her lemming. Regan’s chest felt like it might burst. But she looked only for a split second, because death hooked her back down. There was more.

Something small, fuzzy…

Another lemming underneath where the first one had been. Right underneath it, actually. Half-submerged in the silt (which was so quick to take things, and was it really asking so much for it to suck her in when she died, too?), a bit waterlogged. Her eyes turned to the one in her hands. It did look a little, um… well… it seemed fairly jubilant, for a dead animal. she turned back down to the second, smaller one, the circumstances sparking in her mind. She scooped up the second lemming with an eager swoop, one in each hand now, and her eyes flashed excitedly to Jade. “Isn’t that so… just so… they died copulating.” Romantic, was probably the word.

Their prizes snug in her hand, she tugged at Jade with the other, pulling her into the mud – well, her boots could be washed, right? – and pressed their lips together, kissing Jade with as much exhilaration and with as much love as the lemmings would have done, if lemmings could kiss.

——

No matter how many times they forced themselves to stay away, Regan was never gonna make it easy for Jade to stick to her guns. Her mouth always enticed her to go back for more, especially now, as she nibbled on her bottom lip like she was still trying to taste her. Jade really wanted to help with that, she was in service of the community after all, but it was so unfair? She loved it though, she loved that she had Regan wanting more, ready to risk it all in a bog of all places. So maybe they weren’t thinking straight (understatement of the year). There was something in the air. It had to be. It really should be impossible for Jade to crave something more and still have to be the one to put a stop to it (how many times had she thought she’d reach the limit with Regan again? At least five… or ten) Thankfully, Park Services and their rotten boardwalk they kept tripping on gave her a hand. Just like Ryan’s figurines helped in her apartment. And Mark what’s his name helped at the cemetery. But it was not easy. It was never easy. (So how exactly did she plan on handling Regan disappearing forever?)

She didn’t enjoy the disappointed look that crossed Regan’s face when she put a stop to everything, it made her wanna groan in frustration. Did Regan not care about being comfortable and warm? Cause it was starting to look like Jade was the only one fussing about it, making sure Regan had a good first experience after being out of the game for so long, meanwhile, Regan’s disposition, nope, her eyes seemed to chant: Bog sex! Bog sex! It was super loud, it even had like… drums, and a whimsical flute to make more noise. Jade held her breath, counted to 7… (10 made her impatient okay?), and broke herself out of whatever horny trance Regan had her in. Wait, musk? That was what Regan thought it…well okay, sure. It all sounded like compliments, in the way only Regan could flatter her (comparing her to death warranted another kiss for sure), especially when she showed her goosebumps. And it was like she was trying to reel her back in, no matter how hard Jade pulled Regan’s hand forward, to the lemmings. 

It turned out, Regan was not trying to make her case for bog sex (um, it was a little vague) (maybe she could give her another chance to hear the arguments in favor), she was also experiencing some death-related tingling. Before Jade pinned down the focused expression on Regan’s face, homegirl was gone. Like gone, gone not Rosamund Pike gone… away from her grasp and into the bog. Not unlike a golden retriever, Regan splashed in the water, almost hopping as she moved toward something. Her radar must’ve pinged, obviously! Jade grimaced even as Regan walked across the bog without a care in the world. Cause what if there was something nasty, like other than dead nasty, inside those waters? Actually, was any of that nasty to Regan? She looked as excited as Jade would be on a vacation to the Caribbean. 

Despite Regan’s clear instruction not to look at her, Jade simply couldn’t obey. She’d never seen Regan act so… carefree, as she called for her to witness her findings. What she’d found was pretty obvious anyway, wasn’t it? So who cared if she missed it for a second or two in favor of staring at her beautiful um… collaborator. Her name had never sounded better, (though there might be one more instance for that sound to be topped), and Jade just had to stay put, drink in the sight of pure joy, helpless to do anything else. She was in love, wasn’t she? It wasn’t a groundbreaking revelation, or a revelation at all, just confirmation. Of how much warmth her heart held for the woman in front of her. Regan’s victory felt like her own. They had found the elusive lemming, the one she’d been searching for forever. Jade barely remembered how long ago it was that Regan mentioned it, she just knew she’d made it her mission to make it possible before she left. And there it was, and Regan’s reaction was even better than she could’ve imagined. 

Regan was giddy, eyes wrinkling at the corners, tripping over her words cause of the excitement. She would like those, Jade figured. (Hoped). The little crow’s feet at the corners, even if the reason behind them might fill her with dread and guilt in a month or two. Jade liked them too. Loved them, even. Loved her. This was it, the closest she’d ever get to that little kid who carried dead animals in her backpack. The person Jade wished she’d met sooner. Years and years ago (before, maybe, their paths had even been set in stone). So this wouldn’t feel like too little too late. And… what were they gonna do to her in Ireland to pluck this moment of euphoria from her heart, and how could Jade preemptively protect her from it? All she ached to do was to protect her. Unfair. That feeling didn’t leave her chest, nope, her throat. It weighed there, even if it was drowned by something so much sweeter.

But right. Focusing on the moment. (Back to her roots).

“That’s right, we did it!” Jade threw her arms in the air hollering and cheering with so much energy it could’ve woken that dead deer for all she cared. Then her entire body shook with laughter. Her eyes felt a little moist too, probably the whole bog environment. And her throat, oof. It was like she had a rock stuck in there. (Cause catching the lemming meant they were closer to…) She almost missed the way the Blackberry flew in her direction, managing to catch it just before it hit her cheekbone and kinda ruined the amazing vibes. She quickly glanced down to sort out the… WHY was the screen blue? Wait, Regan didn’t want that anymore either, she wanted a selfie. She wanted one of those “look I caught the fish” photos straight dudes flooded Instagram with. Except this was way better and she looked way hotter. She reached inside her jacket to retrieve her iPhone, and just started capturing Regan in the process, admiring her discovery. She approached to finish the impromptu photoshoot with the selfie Regan wanted.

Without daring to touch the bog (not unless necessary) (not until the deer), Jade tried her best to squeeze them both (or… er, the three of them) in the frame before snapping a couple of photos. Her hands clasped the back of Regan’s sweater, even if the water was like, not deep or anything, just in case something in there decided to swallow her. Regan looked down, as if contemplating something, then bent to go back in and… Two? Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. What were the odds! Regan then turned to her, eyes dancing happily before announcing to the world what the two little lemmings had been up to before they perished. Wow. “They…” her gaze dipped, gaping at Regan’s hands, where the dead lemmings now rested (lucky them). It had to be some kinda cosmic joke. Like, ha ha ha, everybody was getting laid BUT her. And you know what, someone should. A fantastic way to go. La petite mort and all that but like, committing to the bit. (And wait, how did Regan feel about death used in that way?) Could lemmings even…Maybe something about the lemming's expression looked sated, or blissed out in Regan’s expert opinion, to Jade they just looked dead. 

“Um…Romantic?” she tried, and judging by the look on Regan’s face she might have just read her mind. A hand was fast on her shirt, persistent as she was tugged closer. Regan wanted her in the bog, but what about her… screw the boots, actually. Jade dove, well, she kinda overestimated how deep it was, even with Regan next to her. Correction, she stepped inside, draping an arm over Regan’s shoulder and pulling her in for a celebratory kiss. Mindful not to squish the lemmings in the process, obviously. Cause they’d worked hard (against their hormones, mostly) to get this done, they couldn’t ruin it now. Regan was revved up again though, who wouldn’t be after finding such fine specimens (wait, who said that?) (was she in her head now too?), so it made it especially unfair that she had to be the one to pump the breaks again. Her hands shouldn’t have trailed down from Regan’s shoulders to her waist. Shouldn’t have let her fingertips slip inside the hem of Regan’s sweater, slowly lifting up and up, encouraged every time by stuttering gasps against her mouth and… Help. Something dripped, warm against her belly. “I’m…” wet? She shuddered, breaking the kiss just to glance down between their bodies. Regan’s hand had pressed against her shirt, bog juice, and dead lemmings sticking to it. Oh.

“Think of the lemmings,” she blurted out quickly, realizing it was probably not the mood killer for Regan as it was for her. Was Regan even thinking about bog sex anymore actually? Maybe she just wanted to share her happiness that was all, while Jade was already thinking of a makeshift blanket with both their outerwear. (There was that flute again). She didn’t trust herself not to get them into another heated situation though, no matter how harmless things always escalated. Look where a tiny peck got them. “You need your hands… to hold them. Both our hands, in case we find…” Jade climbed out of the bog, back to the squeaky boardwalk, and extending Regan her hand. She felt a little lightheaded, actually. But if catching dead stuff got Regan this excited then, by all means, it boded well for the rest of their night. ”I think we should go for that deer or… Let’s get you more dead things,” All of them, whatever she wanted. She gave Regan an up and down look (not like that) (well, multitask), and nodded. “Maybe a new shirt, too”. 

[trixree]

Re: My Fanfic & Commissions

I have to come clean gang... I made a big massive stinking fucking oopsie.

Last summer, I took on a 25k word fanfic commission that I still haven't finished because my life exploded on me and just would not stop exploding on me. A masters degree, two dearly missed deceased pets, multiple major medical emergencies, and one move later, I have the space to be a Human Person again with Hobbies, hence my return to tumblr and to fandom spaces.

My thoughts at this time are as follows: I fucked up with this commission. I did not complete it as promised. I am going to finish it by the end of this month. By golly, I fucking will. Not only do I WANT to finish it because I think it slaps, but I owe it to the commissioner to follow the fuck through. And going forward, I don't think I should be taking big commissions again. My health and my life are too unpredictable and it isn't fair to you folks to jerk ya around to the silly little jester tune of my failing corpse.

I considered just saying blanket that I won't be taking commissions at all ever again, but honestly? I'm currently unemployed and disabled. Writing is one of the few skills I've got. So I wanted to solicit yall for your thoughts:

(Also feel free to make any other suggestions in the replies)

Something else I'm hoping to do within the next week or so here is to go through the backlog of comments on existing fics (about 700 or so since I last checked). Thank you immensely to anyone who has commented on my shit in the past year. While I haven't been in a place to really read your comments without feeling like a fraud in absolutely every way imaginable, each one of them is very important to me and I love you all dearly for leaving them.

To that commissioner last year - I messaged you on Discord with the existing draft - I owe you such a big apology. I hope the eventual product will be at least partially worth the wait! For others: it's a One Piece non-traditional soulmate dreamsharing AU, Luffy/Zoro/Sanji, rated E. Keep your peepers peeled for it!

[dawnbreakersgaze]

ty for commissioning that greyson smau i hope u have a lovely day/month/year

sincerely,

a greyson enthusiast

Ahhaha, you're soooo welcome anon!

My blog has been the home of the Greyson Agenda since early April with like, 3 rounds of HCs (sfw and nsfw), art, drabbles, and all manner of general tomfoolery lol

I'm so so happy to see more Grey enthusiasts 🥹 welcome to the club!

And I plan on commissioning Maya again in the future, so keep your peepers peeled lol 👀 imma make them sick of me by the time I'm done 😆😂

[baconcolacan]

Is it wierd that I'm imaging blue leader just having vacation? Like for 3 day or a week and the world his collapsing but he's just sitting somewhere with colourful shorts and a shirt on and sunglasses and just thinking

"Not my problem, not today atleast" 🌴🍹

Okay I’m answering this one cause I’m able, and also as proof I’m not ignoring all the Two Kings asks, its only cause I wanna DRAW those other ones so HHHH anyone who sent me TK asks, keep your peepers peeled in the future 👀

As for this ask: I would LOVE for Blue to take a vacation, he sorely SORELY needs it BUT I doubt his sponsors would let him. Poor guy can’t catch a break with them over his shoulders.

[bunnakit]

which product placement would you most like to try for yourself to see whether it's all it's cracked up to be?

okay this is a very funny question because the answer is almost all of them.

i am an incredibly curious person. i got one of those cool candle lighters that has the arcing electricity (like a cattle prod) to light the candle and i OF COURSE had to touch it to see how bad it hurt (a fair bit.) when i found out Nintendo Switch cartridges had bitterant on them so kids wouldn't swallow them i absolutely licked one (i was filled with regret.) so like, my stupid ass will do anything once and try anything once.

my husband and i go on journeys in the international market just buying random things that look good to try and every single time we make a trip i look for Mama Carbonara, the yellow and purple boyfriend drinks from Not Me, Last Twilight, Lactasoy, etc. i am ALWAYS keeping my peepers peeled for anything that looks familiar because I WANT TO KNOW. I NEED TO KNOW.

sadly, our international markets have almost NO Thai imports and i don't really feel like ordering those things special, because i don't really want to dedicate to having a whole case of it LOL

[dendrilart]

I just ordered these shirts! They'll have some fluorescent ink. Keep your peepers peeled for them for sale next month! If you're local, you might catch them at Tremendicon if I get them in hand before then.

[panie-wanie-dean-bean]

Picture it, me, sliding in on socks only to completly beef it and fall face first onto the hard wood floor

Oh hi, didn't see you there~

Soooo I have a new idea, it is a yandere idea but it's actually not an sdj idea. Shock! Horror! I know I know, but listen, writing for technically one thing kinda drains you of creativity, in my experience at least. I'm not giving up on my aus or anything like that, I just need a break from them that way once I do return to them it'll be like falling in love all over again~

Trust the process

Now, I hear you, clawing, screaming at your screens as to what this new bullshit is! I was thinking about making a little yandere town, something with a small community that's all head over heels for you! This idea is not original in anyway at it's base

(I actually remember seeing a blog making a wider scope yan town and I am banging my head against the wall for not remembering their fuckin user name!)

The thing I'm adding to it is that almost all the characters will be based off of y'all's suggestions! If anyone has interest in this than feel free to leave jobs that aren't filled in my ask box and I'll make them into a character, you can leave small personality things too but if another towns person is too similar I won't be using it

I'll be making the mayor of this fine town in the afternoon/evening tomorrow so keep those peepers peeled folks!