#mz writes

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Call Forth Love - Chapter 20

Happy 2025! (We're going to ignore its been ages since I've updated.)

Special shout-out to @cdauni your ask gave me the boost of confidence to write this chapter!

Words: 7700

Warnings: all the feels and mild smut

Series Masterlist

Warmth and softness surrounded her, a tonic to her weary heart. She wanted to stay here, live in the contentment and peace offered in her sleep. 

Unfortunately, her bladder had other ideas. 

Wakefulness slithered into her mind, nudging aside the residual sleep and dreams to coil around her mind and squeeze until her eyes popped open. With a muffled groan, Kari gave in. Her eyes slowly opened, bringing her fully into the land of the living. 

The first thing she saw made her pause. 

Lying within arm's reach was Ivar. Eyes closed. Long lashes dusted his cheeks. Mouth slightly parted. One hand tucked under his face and the other bridged the gap between them, as if seeking her out even in sleep. He appeared so serene in the moment, all the fury and fear wiped away, that impenetrable shield to protect himself was lowered to reveal a softness that was not witnessed during wakefulness. 

Before Kari could appreciate the moment more, her bladder reminded her of its dire need. 

Very slowly, she scooted off the massive bed, untangling herself from the gray sheets and blanket, planting her bare feet onto the cold, hardwood floor. A dim light came from one of the open doors in the bedroom. Trudging through her groggy memories, Kari thought it might be the bathroom, so she headed in that direction. 

Thankfully, her guess was correct. Quietly closing the door, she flipped the light switch on and gasped at the magnificent bathroom.  

The entire room was marble, with light gray marble walls, a matching light gray countertop, and dark gray marble flooring. A standing only, glass paneled shower was situated in the corner near the porcelain toilet. But it was the glorious bathtub that held her in its thrall. A gleaming white porcelain tub that appeared the size of a small jacuzzi. Even from where she stood in the doorway, she could see nodules in the tub where jets would come from. 

At some point she was going to bask in that tub, she silently vowed to herself. 

Finally emerging from her beautiful bathtub haze, she hurried to the toilet on the other side of the bathroom and did what she came there to do. 

Standing at the bathroom sink, washing her hands in the warm water, her mind began to attempt to piece together the night before. She remembered the car crash, being at the hospital, and the reunion with Ivar. She could recall the drive back to the brothers’ house, cuddled against Ivar, biting back the tears and screams bubbling up in her throat. 

Whilst in the hospital, the sun finally descended and now all she wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep. Once they arrived, Ragnar and Hvitserk practically dragged her and Ivar to the kitchen, forcing them to eat something, carrying on a conversation nearby which she did not mind, as she picked at the sausage, cheese, crackers and grapes that Ragnar had pulled together for them. If she felt tired, Ivar looked like he was already asleep as he mindlessly put pieces of food into his mouth and chewed. Since stepping out of the vehicle, his hand held hers, refusing to release her. Even now, sitting next to her on a stool, he kept his hand always on her, either slowly rubbing circles on her lower back or hand placed on her thigh. For her comfort or his own was debatable, but she would not deny how it filled her with a comforting warmth. 

After they had consumed enough to satisfy Ragnar, the two were allowed to retire. 

Asking politely where the spare room was she could sleep in, Kari was shocked by the loud snarl that erupted from the man beside her and his sharp comment of ‘fuck that’. She was equally startled by the muffled snorts and chuckles by the other two Lothbroks still in the kitchen. 

Without a word of thanks to his brother or father, Ivar grabbed her hand and led her away. She tried to pay attention where he led her. Going down a hallway away from the kitchen, they passed several rooms. The only one with an open door that Kari could glimpse into showcased a couch and shelves of books. The library. Heat flooded her cheeks when she recalled what happened last time they were in that room together. Had it really been over a month ago?

They continued, turning the corner into a new hallway with only one door midway down. 

Weak moonlight peeked through the large windows to cast the bedroom in shade and shadow. The poor light illuminated the massive bed just in front of the windows. Gently, Ivar led her there, guiding her to sit down. After she settled, he walked towards one of the two doors to the right of the bed, disappeared for a brief minute and then returned carrying something. 

“Here.” He handed her what looked like a t-shirt. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”

“I'm okay.”

He grunted, rubbing his temple and headed there himself. 

Before she could second guess herself, she quickly changed into Ivar's t-shirt, guessing it was some sort of band shirt but unable to truly tell in the low light. She made a careful pile of her folded clothes, setting them on the nightstand next to the side of the bed. As she sat down again, her eyes roamed over the shadowy bedroom. It reminded her of a studio apartment…well perhaps a large one with the amount of floor space. To the left of the bed looked like a kitchenette, with a full fridge and a few small appliances on a countertop next to it. An impressive bookshelf stood next to a huge TV, mounted against the wall across the bed. The bed itself was easily a California king size, with a large, metal headboard, making Kari wonder if she could get lost in the enormity of it. 

Before Kari could snoop more, Ivar opened the bathroom door, wearing just a pair of sweatpants. He slowly walked over to the opposite side of the bed, pain etched in every step, hand braced on whatever solid object was nearby to take some of his weight. After sitting down on the bed, he unbuckled his leg braces, the clunk of them against the nightstand as he leaned them against was loud in the silent bedroom. 

Without a word, he pulled the covers down, dragging himself backwards and under the covers with a relieved sigh. 

“Kari. Get in bed.” He grumbled when she apparently took too long to follow his actions. 

Unable to fully suppress the small smile, she mirrored his actions, slipping under the plush covers on the opposite side of the bed from him. As soon as she settled, Ivar attacked. Using his long arms, he snagged her around the waist, causing her to squeak, and pulled her flush against him, her back to his chest, tucking his face into her hair. 

“Good night, Kari.” He whispered, pressing his lips to the top of her head, a large hand splayed over her stomach. 

“Sweet dreams, Ivar.” She placed her smaller hand over his, entwining their fingers. 

He hummed a pleased sound in response. 

In that unfamiliar bed, with all the trauma of the day, Kari expected it would take a long time to unwind and be able to sleep, to ignore the memories and the fear waiting in the shadows of her mind. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of the day and weeks leading up to it that helped her drift off into a peaceful slumber. As she lay in Ivar's arms, comforted and protected, safe in his embrace and cared for, she knew her peace was attributed to the man who looked at her like he would burn the world down to keep her warm. 

Now standing at the sink, she stilled, planting her hands firmly on the countertop. The draw to turn away enticed her, to refrain from acknowledging the pain she could feel in her body. Stupid, she mentally chided herself, coward. So with a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to finally look at herself in the mirror. She was not sure what she expected to see. Logically she knew the car accident was minor compared to others, but she still expected to see…well, more. The left side of her head was tender, a dull ache radiating from it. A small band aid covered the cut on her temple, begrudgingly placed there by the discharge nurse at Ragnar's insistence. A few small scrapes were scattered across her face. Tugging on the t-shirt she wore, the hem dancing along her thighs, the blossoming bruises following the path of the seat belt were just visible. As if with the reminder, a fresh wave of pain crested over her, her body sore and ached all over like she was recovering from the flu or had worked out too hard the prior day and was now dealing with the aftermath. 

Her hands began to shake as the memories awoke with the review of her injuries. Images sealed in a locked part of her mind, jostled free from the car accident. The sun shone brilliantly that day, a perfect summer's day. The screeching of tires on the pavement. The crunch of two opposing forces crashing into one another. Devastation. Blood and screams. Blue-green eyes staring into hers but unseeing. Even as she cried his name, begging him–

“KARI!”

The abrupt shout of her name startled her from the spiraling her brain attempted to drag her into, forcing her to relive unwanted memories. She dragged in a shuddering breath as the memories vanished like smoke. 

Immediately, she turned and opened the bathroom door, walking back into the bedroom. Whatever her mind could possibly conjure was in no way close to the sight before her eyes. 

Ivar sat up in his bed, covers pooled around his waist and bare chest on display. A sight that would have been drool-worthy normally. But not now. Not with his wide eyes, panic and terror evident in them. His chest rising and falling as if in a fight for each breath. Hands clenched the gray sheets. 

As soon as the bathroom door opened, panicked eyes swept to her, those blues churning like an uneasy sea. 

“Kari?” He mouthed in a near whisper. 

“Yeah.” She hesitantly replied, never seeing him so distraught before. “Ivar, are you okay?”

“You're here.”

“Yeah.”

“You're here. You're here.” He stared at her, speaking as if to himself, as if reassuring himself she was not a mirage. “You didn't– you're not– ohh fuck…you're– fuck!” He scrubbed his hands over his eyes roughly, the dark cast on his right hand most likely grating against his skin.  

“Ivar?” She moved a step, concern drawing her in.  

His eyes raised back up to her, tears filling them, chin wobbling. He raised a hand out to her, silently beckoning her closer. 

And she responded with a second thought. 

Hurrying across the space, she crawled back into the bed until she was next to his trembling form. Before she could apologize or question him, Ivar did something she never thought she would ever truly see. He tucked his head into the crook of her neck and began to cry. Not soft, silent tears. Not feeble cries of sadness. No, these sounded like they came from the depths of his soul. A keening of helplessness, of despair, of brokenness. With gasping breaths, he clung to her like she was a mast on a ship rolling on stormy waves, hoping to just survive. 

Her arms banded around him, holding him close, feeling each ragged attempt to fill his lungs, body shaking with the force of his cries. One hand pressed against the back of his neck to keep him from pulling away. Listening to him, hearing him bleed out his pain and sorrow, how could she turn away? 

How long they stayed that way, she was unsure. At some point, tears coated her cheeks as her own swirling, chaotic emotions spilled forth. Time morphed as they gripped onto one another, a safe harbor to weather the storm, to drain the turbulent emotions hounding them for weeks. 

“I thought you were gone…” He choked out once his sobs lost their sharp edges. “I thought–fuck…I can't–I...” He tried to pull away, starting to lean back. She sensed that broken barrier of his attempt to rise, to separate them, to protect himself. 

And she was not having that. 

Not now. 

Only allowing him to sit up enough so she could cup his face, she refused to let him fully retreat from her. His vivid, blue eyes swam with residual tears, red-rimmed and huge. Yet still so beautiful. 

“Ivar, it's okay. I've got you.” She cooed, brushing the tear tracks from his cheeks, praying her touch soothed the cracked and bleeding edges in his soul. “I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.”

He exhaled a harsh breath as his eyes slammed shut. She could feel the fight drain from him, that need to protect himself. Once again, he gave in, surrendered to the tsunami of writhing emotions. He pressed his forehead against hers as his shoulders shook with soft sobs with the last of his tears, the purging of the final poison from the body. 

“I'm sorry, Kari, I'm so fucking sorry. For everything.” The words poured forth, a dam unlocked. “I never meant— you didn't deserve that. I promised, I fucking promised! And then–” he choked on a sob, drawing it back in as his confession continued to flow freely. “I'll do anything, whatever you want. Just name it. I'll do anything. Just please…please don't leave me. I can't– I need you, I need you so much it fucking hurts. Please, let me make it up to you. Anything. Anything you want. Just don't– don't leave me alone.”

Fresh tears ran down her cheeks as she listened to his words, heard the raw pain in his voice, and was finally allowed to witness the sheer well of need and feelings he kept locked up to protect his heart. A well she had only caught glimpses of in the past, but now the gate was wide open and she was allowed to enter. To truly see and marvel at the fathomless depths of his feelings. 

Ivar hissed, voice thick, as he tenderly wiped away the tears dripping off her chin. “No, no, kjære. Don't cry, not for me. I'm not worth it.”

“Of course you're worth it, you silly man!” She laugh-cried. “I care about you…so much. It's been so hard being away from you. God, I thought of you everyday. I just– I needed space but I missed you so much.”

“Kari–” he whispered. 

“And even after I didn't talk to you for three weeks, you still came for me. You saved me.”

“I didn't sav–”

“You saved me!” She interrupted, tone in such a way he was unable to refuse. “I was so scared, I couldn't, I just–and then you came. And I knew I was safe. That everything would be okay cause you were there. That you wouldn't let anything bad happen to me.”

“Fuck,” his voice hard with his confession, “I'll do anything to keep you safe. I swear it. I'd die for you, Kari.”

“Ivar, no–”

“I would. I'd do anything for you to be happy, even if that isn't with– I just need you to be happy.”

“I've never been happier than when I'm with you.”

He released a shattering breath, a shiver wracking his body, as if his body fought to absorb her own confession, her own truth. 

“Want to know something I learned? I think I've known it for a while but I– I was scared for it to be true?” She did not wait for his response, thumbs gently stroking his damp cheeks. “That when I think of home– it's always your face that's the first thing that comes to mind.”

He groaned, voice hitching as he spoke. “Kari, fuck, kitten, you can't- stop making me cry, fuck!”

They both chuckled wetly, foreheads pressed together, breathing in each other's presence. So longed for and finally here. Allowing their fractured, splintered hearts to begin to mend. Their touch, their words, a healing balm desperately needed. 

“Kari? Can I kiss you?” Nerves and lingering fear tainted his voice as he asked. “Please?”

A million thoughts sped through her mind but only one word slipped past her guard, to touch the air and admit her need for him. 

“Yes.”

Not wasting a moment, his lips brushed hers hesitantly, as if expecting her to pull away, to rescind her agreement. Once, twice, the gentlest of touches. A soft tease. A hesitant experiment. A hopeful promise. 

Instead of waiting for him to take control, Kari firmly pressed her lips to his, melding their mouths together, the need for him overwhelming.  Her hands tangled in his loose hair, keeping him where she wanted him. Refusing to give ground to the battle waging within him. 

With the open invitation, Ivar invaded. What soft, pressing of their lips, sipping from each other's mouth, tasting what they both had desired and yearned for once again, quickly became heated. A clash of tongues and teeth. Hands tugging and roaming. A plundering. A feasting. A celebration and an apology embedded in each feverish kiss. 

Under the onslaught of his affections, Kari found herself laying on her back on the bed, Ivar hovering over her like a dark guardian angel, wings of protection and adoration draped over her form. 

After one more greedy kiss, Ivar leaned back, those piercing blue eyes peering down at her. “Fuck, kitten, I need you. I need– I need to know you're alright.”

“What..?” Her mind in a dizzying haze, but somehow through the fog, she knew what that typically meant. A tension replaced the languid ease, coiling in her gut as she prepared to push him away. It had not been even twenty-four hours back in his presence, she was not ready for that. She should stop th–

“I know.” He pecked her lips, silencing her worries as if sensing her insecurity. “I know you aren't – trust me, okay?”

She stared up at him, heart pounding within her chest, but unable to deny the devotion in his gaze. Somehow she knew, with every atom in her body, he would not dismiss her concern, not now. “I do. I trust you, Ivar.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead to hers. “You're too good for me.” After a moment, he sat up, hovering over her, hands gliding down to the hem of his t-shirt she wore. She tensed for a brief moment, in awe when he stopped and made eye contact, waiting for her permission. 

“I trust you.” She murmured. 

With that, he slid the t-shirt up her body, mindful of his cast not scratching her soft skin, and helped slip it over her head, leaving her in a purple sports bra and a black thong. 

“You're beautiful.”

Tears welled back up in her eyes at the sheer adoration in his voice, the devotion in his eyes as he gazed down on her. Was this what a blind man looked like when he saw the sun or the stars for the first time? How could she not trust him? To fall a little deeper into the well of affection for him when he beheld her like that?

He gently brushed his fingers where she could feel the bruises from the seat belt begin on her shoulder. “Does this hurt?”

“Only a little.”

He hummed before tipping forward and placing a light kiss where his fingers had just touched. Instead of pulling back, his lips traveled. He placed gentle kisses along the line of bruises across her chest, only tugging her bra down slightly to kiss the space between her breasts before continuing the path downward. 

Once he reached her side, he paused to meet her eyes. At that moment, she thought she could happily drown in the vastness of them, a clear sky she wanted to soar in forever. 

Still gazing at her, he slid a single digit along her underwear line. “Can I?”

“Ah, s-sure.”

With tender care, he tugged her thong down her legs, making her heart race and nerves awaken with their descent, then he tossed them off over the side of the massive bed.

“Hey!” Her eyes followed their fall before snapping back to him. 

“You don't need those around me.” He said cheekily, yet his gaze remained on the spot between her legs, bare for his perusal. 

Nerves awoke the butterflies in her belly, making them dance and swarm. Subconsciously, she tried to shift her legs, to close them, to prevent her most intimate part from being on display. 

“No.” Ivar snapped, but without heat, placing his hands on her knees to prevent her movement. He glanced up at her, watching, waiting. When she made no further movement, no denial leaving her lips, even as her throat constricted with the butterflies clambering upward, he smirked down at her like a conquering hero. “Good girl.”

Then for the second time that day, he did the unexpected. 

Slowly, he slid back on the bed until he laid on his stomach, gaze never wavering from hers, keeping her restrained from moving, a prisoner to him alone. 

“Ivar, what–”

But when his mouth pressed against her inner thigh, an open-mouth kiss so close to her core, her mouth snapped shut. Her eyes drifted closed as she gripped the sheet on the bed, anything to ground her from the sensation shooting through her body. 

He chuckled wickedly then licked a thick, scalding line against her folds. 

“Oh!” She gasped, body jolting at the new sensation, overly aware of the wetness already dampening her core. 

“Gods, I've dreamt of this. So fucking good.” He murmured against her thigh before diving back in.

He teased her folds with his tongue, tasting, tormenting, driving her wild, lips occasionally moving to play and suck on her clit before returning to her core. When her legs closed against his head, it only seemed to spur him onward. Distinctly she wondered how long his tongue was as he seemed to be attempting to taste her spine through her, touching something within her that made her hips attempt to buck off the bed and infuse her moans in the air around them. 

It was all she could do to remember to breathe, as he played her like an instrument he mastered. His name dripped from her lips like honey, a chanting of his name, a petition to her god. Every thought fled her body, her whole focus narrowed down to his touch, to the fire scouring her veins. 

“My Kari. My kitten.” He whispered against her skin, branding her with his words, only to dive back in and feast. 

She could feel that edge getting closer, that coil winding tighter and tighter within her belly, almost ready to snap, to fall into oblivion, when suddenly Ivar drew back. 

“Don't you fucking leave me again.” He commanded hoarsely, biting her inner thigh, sending a wave of pained pleasure streaking through her. “Fuck, I need you, Kari.”

“Ivar, please….”

“Promise me!” He snarled, hands on her thighs, keeping her restrained, denying her the friction she so desperately sought. At her responding whine, he bit her again. “Promise me you'll stay!”

“I promise.” She sobbed, desperate for her release. Hands clawed at the sheets, the back of his head, anything to keep her from this tormenting limbo. “Please, Ivar, please!”

Then he descended, claiming her as if a man possessed, sending her soaring, seeing stars with a shriek of his name.  

When she could finally open her eyes, heart still beating a rapid tempo within her chest, her gaze froze on the sight of Ivar leaning his head against her thigh, his eyes trained on her with a sweet smile on his glistening lips. Something about the curve of his mouth, the almost dazed look in his blue eyes, she realized she had never seen him look so soft, so blissful, like he had touched the stars alongside her.  

Yet even in the afterglow of her orgasm, a realization of what she allowed him to do, of how she was still bare from the waist down. A flashing feeling of embarrassment and shame shot through her, but she tried to ignore it, refusing to give it the space to tear away the wonderful feeling she floated on. 

“Hi.” She said, shyly. 

He chuckled impishly. “That good, huh?”

Now a warmth blossomed on her cheeks. “I'm not sure I can move.” 

“Mmmm…good. I don't plan on you going anywhere.” He crawled up her body, planting a smacking kiss to her lips then flopped on his back next to her. After a long, silent minute, he spoke up again, confidence wavering like candlelight in his voice. “Was it– did you like it?”

She almost laughed, turning on her side to face him. “Could you not tell? Gods, that was…”

“I've–” He huffed, running a hand through his hair as he stared up at the ceiling. “I've never gone down on anyone.”

“What?”

He started to open his mouth then snapped it shut and only shrugged, refusing to remove his gaze from the ceiling. 

She leaned up slightly, just enough to fully see his face and catch his gaze. “Ivar, that was incredible. I think I'm still seeing stars.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She was charmed by his boyish pride, that twinkle in his eyes and the tilt of his lips upward, he looked so pleased with himself. “What…what about you? I mean, do you need–um…”

He laughed, carefully grabbing her hand and bringing it to his crotch. Instead of having her pull his cock out, he placed her hand on the fabric of his sweatpants. Immediately, she yanked her hand back, mouth open in shock at the large wet spot she had touched. 

“What–”

“Apparently, I enjoyed it too. Fuck, I don't know the last time I cumed in my trousers. You were so fucking sexy though. Gods, I can't wait to do it again. I need to hear you moaning my name at least one more time today, preferably twice.”

“Oh my gods, Ivar! You can't-you can't say stuff like that!”

“What? That I found you moaning my name the fucking sexiest thing I've ever heard. Wait! Can you do it again and I'll make it my ringtone?”

She laughed, even as she ducked her head, pressing it to his shoulder with the wave of embarrassment crashing over her. “You wouldn't.”

His lighthearted chuckle was music to her ears. “No, those sounds are for my ears alone. I'm selfish when it comes to you. Only I get to taste you, to hear you moan, to hold you. And I won't apologize for being a fucking selfish asshole about it.”

Leaning back up on her elbow, she reached over and traced his Mjolnir necklace laying on his chest, biting her bottom lip as fresh thoughts raced across her mind. 

“What?” He asked. 

“I…I want us to work. I want an…I want an ‘us’. I want to be your girlfriend.” As his mouth started to open, she placed a finger over his lips. At his slow nod, she withdrew her hand and continued to trace the necklace, eyes on the swirls and markings on it. “But there's conditions. First, we need honesty between us. I know there's certain things with your work that you can't tell me about. And that's fine, I get it. But in regard to us, to our relationship, I need to trust you. You hurt me, Ivar. More than– like…ugh, it hurt. But I am trusting you won't do that again. That if something comes up and you question me and my feelings for you, that you'd come to me first instead of taking the accusation at face value. Okay?”

“I promise.” The agreement held a tone of reverence, as if vowing to her and his gods. It sent a shiver down her spine. 

“Good, and one more thing.” She snapped her eyes up to bore into his. “If you ever lay your hands on me again like that, I will walk away and not come back.”

“I know, min skatt. It won't happen again.” 

“I'm serious, Ivar. I won't– I can handle a lot but that…”

Somehow he seemed to understand what she meant. Tugging her hand away from the necklace, he pressed her knuckles to his lips. “I don't want you to be frightened of me. I never wanted you to be scared because of me. Others, yes. It's– it's a way to maintain control, to have others terrified of what you'll do in revenge. But not you, never you.” With his casted hand, he brought it to gently run the back of his fingers over her jaw, gazing at her in what could only be described as wonder. 

She fidgeted under that look. “What?”

“You–you're too good for me.” He huffed out a chuckle. Carefully, he guided her to lay back down, both of them now laying on their sides facing one another. “I had planned to grovel for your forgiveness. I was willing to do fucking anything. Buy you whatever you want. I would even kneel to beg for your forgiveness, to beg for another chance to prove I can be better.”

“I don't need you to buy me things.”

“What can I do? How can I prove it?”

“You did already.” She whispered, losing herself in the sincerity of his voice and the pleading in his eyes. “You came for me. When I was terrified, you came. My hero.”

He laughed wetly. “My Kari, my beautiful girlfriend.” With an devious smirk, he leaned up slightly to slot his lips over hers, stealing a kiss. “Mine.” He declared before stealing another kiss. “My girlfriend.” Another kiss. “My sweet.” Another kiss. “Mine.”

She laughed, pulling away from his searching lips, to trace them with her fingers. “And you're mine. My boyfriend.”

“Fucking finally.”

“Ivar…” 

He nuzzled into the crook of her neck, making her  squirm, even as he snickered. “You think I was possessive before? Shit. I'm never letting you out of my fucking sight now. I'm going to keep you in my bed forever. There's no need for clothes, since I plan on having you over me…or under me as often as possible.”

She laughed, then squeaked as his hand traced up her bare thigh and grabbed an ass cheek. “Ivar!”

“I can work on my laptop. You can do your yoga next to the bed, then immediately get back in. We'll watch fucking good shows, not your romantic shit. Hvitserk will deliver us food. Hmmm…on second thought, he'll eat it. I'll pay someone to bring it in here.”

“You're being ridiculous. What about my wor– oh gods! Lydia!” She abruptly sat up, dislodging him in her frantic movement. “Oh crap! She's probably worried. I'm supposed to be at work right now! And I have my other job tonight. Oh no. Crap, crap, crap.”

“What other job?”

She scanned around, trying to remember if she had her phone. “What? Oh, I got another job in the evenings.”

“Why?”

“I…I needed it. My rent went up, so, yeah.”

“Kari,” he sighed out her name, trailing a hand down her arm, “I would have paid for your rent. All you had to do was ask.”

“I know, Ivar. I didn't want to. I can figure it out. It's fine.”

“Please, Kjære, let me help.”

Releasing a slow exhale, she shifted to look down at him. “I–I'll think about it. First I need to call Lydia. I need to tell her I'll be late.”

“You're not going in today.”

“I have too. I need the paycheck.”

He audibly growled, rising up beside her, nostrils flaring and jaw clenched. “Kari, you were in a goddamn car accident yesterday and had a concussion. You're out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to let you go to work. And if I explain this to Lydia, I doubt she'd let you come in too.”

Kari hesitated because honestly, Ivar was right. Even after the pleasurable sensations from her orgasm, her body still felt sore and exhausted. It was that ceaseless drive to prove to herself that she could make it on her own, that she did not need anyone to take care of her. Looking at him though, with the way he seemed ready to tie her to the bed and force her to stay, she wondered if maybe this once it was okay. To lean on him for support and help in more than just friendship. 

“Okay…” She caved, “I still need to call her and let her know. Do you know where my phone is?”

“Use mine.” He carefully scooted over and grabbed his from the end table, unlocking it and handing it to her. “We'll ask Hvits if they got your phone at the hospital. While you're calling, I'm going to clean up.” He placed a reassuring kiss on her forehead, a silent thank-you for her change of mind. Dragging himself back to his side of the bed, he swung his legs over the side and grabbed his leg braces, buckling them on.

Mesmerized by his movements, she could only watch his broad back, those tattoos she loved to trace on his skin, his muscular arms, which held her so tenderly, and strong hands that touched her as if she was a priceless gem. He put on the braces then pushed off the bed to walk to the closet door, slipping inside for a minute before coming out with new clothes in hand.  

“See something you like?”

She startled, not realizing she was still blatantly ogling his form as he walked across the room. “Yes, I love your body.” She blushed after the words spilled out on their own conviction, as if yanked from her mind without permission. 

With eyes widened momentarily, clearly stunned by her easy statement. After that split second, he stomped back over and leaned over the bed to drag her into a drugging kiss that had her gasping into his mouth and fire singing in her veins once more. “Gods, you're perfect.”

“Ivar…” she mumbled, her lips chasing his. 

He chuckled, drawing back. “Make your phone call, then I'll take of you.”

She watched him walk into the bathroom and close the door before finally turning her attention to the phone. 

Her conversation went as Ivar predicted. She called the main line of the yoga studio, then with Sasha answering, she got Lydia on the phone. Hearing about the accident and concussion, Lydia immediately told her to take at least the rest of the week off and to rest. Kari tried to say she did not need that much time but Lydia insisted and to call her if she needed anything. 

Taking note of the morning hour, Kari realized she would have to call the clothing store later to let them know about her accident. They would not even be open for two more hours. 

While talking with Lydia, Kari finally dragged herself out of the stupidly huge and comfortable bed to find her scattered clothing. Her black thong was on the ground beside the expansive bed, as if attempting to hide from her. Instead of putting on her own clothes from yesterday, she slipped back into the band t-shirt of Ivar's. In the morning light, she could see the skull on the black fabric and what must be the band's name printed over the top, she thought she recognized the name from one of Ivar's music rants. Next she wandered over to the kitchenette having spied the Keurig. A cup of hot coffee sounded delightful right now, but she became distracted by the dozens of photographs she had somehow missed last night with her initial snooping of his bedroom. She glided over barefoot to the wall of tacked pictures on a cork board almost as tall as her. 

Most of the photos showcased stunning scenery, mountains seeming a favorite focal point. A handful of scattered photos were artistic shots of a gorgeous woman. Barbed wire tightened around her heart as she thought of Ivar keeping photos of a different woman, someone clearly important. At closer inspection, she realized it was actually Aslaug. With the revelation, she wanted to slap her own head at her jealousy, yet another part of her wilted at seeing another beautiful woman in Ivar's life. What was he doing with someone as mundane as her? He was in another league compared to her. She shook her head, a futile attempt to dislodge her own insecurities. 

The creak of the bathroom door alerted her to Ivar's return but she continued to scan the photos, absorbed in the wanderlust they unearthed within her. 

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her flush against his bare chest, apparently only changing into new boxers and a pair of gray sweatpants that felt soft against the back of her legs. 

“Mmmm…you look good in my shirt.” 

She hummed as Ivar pushed her brunette hair over her shoulder and tucked his face into the crook of her neck. Before she became too distracted by the handsome man holding her, she gestured towards the wall before them. “What are these?”

���Pictures.”

She rolled her eyes at his deadpan tone. “I figured that, thank you. I mean, who took them? They're stunning.”

There was a long pause before he answered, voice muted as if sharing a secret. “I did.”

“Really?”

“Surprised?”

“Yeah,” she answered truthfully, “you never told me you did photography.”

He shrugged behind her. “It's not something I do as often anymore. My mother tried to have me enter some contests when I was younger but I didn't want to.” 

“You would have won, without a doubt. These are fantastic. Where are they?”

“All over. Locations I've visited and some of my favorite places.” He pointed to a picture towards their right, an audible edge of excitement infused in his voice as he spoke next. “That one I took at Floki's, it's the fjords behind his house. If you look at the bottom there you can barely see where he builds his boats.” He pointed to another a little higher. “That one was from a family trip to Switzerland. My brothers tried to ski and Ubbe ended up almost breaking his arm.” Next, he pointed to one on the left, just above her eye line. “That's of my mother with the Mediterranean in the back. We took a trip, just her and I when I was nineteen and had finally had my last fucking surgery. She wanted to do something extra to celebrate. It was just us for several days…it was nice.”

She tilted her head back to kiss the underside of his jaw, wishing she could soothe the longing, the nostalgia in his voice. “Thank you for letting me see these. These are…wow, I'm in awe. They're so beautiful.”

“Hmmm…” His lips caressed her ear as he whispered, “my favorite one is my phone's background.”

She dropped her head, practically melting against him as warmth flooded her cheeks. It was hard not to notice before she made her phone call earlier. It was a photo of her from several weeks ago, one she had forgotten about. They were out to eat, one of the many restaurants Ivar wanted her to try. Her gaze was focused off screen, having been listening to a man propose several tables away. Her soft gaze translated into the picture, a joyous undertone as she watched two people's lives change due to the love they shared. Her diamond studs and simple diamond pendant necklace caught in the flickering candlelight from the table making her sparkle. After the proposal, she had caught Ivar with his phone out, but instead of confessing to snapping a picture, he teased her the rest of the night about her love of romantic shit. 

He pressed a slow, syrupy kiss to the back of her neck, making her shiver under his touch. “My girlfriend.” His lips trailed to the side of her neck and up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “My Kari.” He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “My beauty…mine.”

Before he could start something, she turned around in his arms, placing her arms around his neck loosely, feeling his hands settle on her hips. Silently, she scanned his face, noting the bruise-like bags under his eyes, seeing the crease in his forehead, the tension in his jaw. 

“Ivar, how have you been? Really? Are you in pain?”

“I should be asking you that.”

“Ivar.”

He inhaled sharply, dropping his head to press his forehead against hers. “I don't want to talk about it. Can't we just focus on now?”

“Hvitserk told me…”

“What did that useless brother say now?” He snapped as her voice trailed off. 

“Be nice.” She reprimanded without any heat. “He said you were drowning yourself in either alcohol or work. Or something like that.”

“That little shit. Can't trust him with fucking anything.” He grumbled, thumbs rubbing back and forth along the patch of skin beneath the hem of her shirt. 

He did not answer right away, so she waited. She could be patient. Something she had noticed about him was his disdain for speaking about when he was in pain, physically or mentally. It would be easy to attribute that to his childhood, to the constant pain he endured, but somehow she knew it was more than that. Her hand massaged the back of his neck as she waited, almost hearing the gears turn in his mind as he debated on what to say. How much deeper to allow her into his inner world. 

“Why do you want to know?”

An undercurrent of fear coated his question, that somehow she would turn his turmoil and fear against him. It fractured her heart anew for him, that it was so instinctual for him to have to protect himself, to never show any kind of weakness. That his only option was to be strong.

Instead of answering his question, she decided to share a glimpse into their time apart, hoping it would encourage him to do the same. “I thought of you everyday. Multiple times a day, if I'm being honest. I appreciated that you gave me my space, even if I hated it sometimes…but I needed it. It gave me time to realize how much better my life is with you in it. That I had already forgiven you after you ordered the food for me that next day.”

He cleared his throat before his words emerged like a confession, slow and halted. “Those first days away from you…I– fuck! I did everything possible to forget that I'd fucked everything up. That I'd lost the best thing in my life. Gods, I was so sure you'd never want to see me again, that you hated me. I even fucked some girls from a club to try and…well.”

She stiffened at his words but did not pull away, allowing him his space, allowing him to be vulnerable, even if it stung like a jellyfish's tentacles were wrapped around her body. 

“I know, I know it was stupid. I don't even remember them, I was high on some strong shit to try and– I wasn't okay.” He sighed, pressing his forehead harder against hers like it would allow his words to seep into her brain, to prove his remorse. “Floki finally hit me a few times over the head, seemed to knock some sense into me. Don't tell him I said that, that damn asshole. After that, I threw myself into working. In the past week I've been mostly living in our business airplane. Gods, I'm–I'm fucking exhausted. It's a damn miracle I haven't broken anything. I feel like I've barely slept the past three weeks. And my legs…ah, fuck, they've been killing me. But I couldn't stop, I–I had to do something, keep moving, or I'd–”

She could see how hard it was for him to admit, like each word out of his mouth was a fight, a struggle to release the bonds keeping his weakness hidden and allow her to peer past the façade, to see how hard it had been the past three weeks. 

“And your cast?”

“That night after you left…I broke my hand on a punching bag. Forgot to wrap it. Fucking stupid.”

“Oh, Ivar.” 

“I want– even with those others at the club. They meant nothing. They are nothing! It was always you I thought of. It's always been you. Ever since that night in the club where you kissed me, it's always been you. And I promise, I'll always take care of you.” His voice caught in his throat, forcing him to swallow thickly to continue. “Please, kitten, please believe me.”

And she did. Gods forgive her but she did. It was in the way his hands clutched her hips, his anguish coloring the air around them, the way he begged for her forgiveness. He would do anything to repent for his sins, any penance she asked, he would comply. 

But all she wanted was him. 

“I do. I believe you.” She slid her hands down to cup his face to tilt his face to meet her gaze so he could see the honesty in her eyes. “It's been you too, since that night. I haven't even been able to look at anyone else like that. I think you've bewitched me.”

“If anyone has been bewitched, it's me. Fucking hell, got me crying and begging.” His lips grazed hers, a whisper of a kiss, a silent acknowledgement, a heartfelt promise. “Can you stay? I just want to hold you and rest and pretend the world doesn't exist. I just need you. Only you. Please?”

With her heart feeling three sizes too big for her chest, she silently guided him back to the bed and crawled in, cuddling into his warm body as he wrapped his arms around her. 

For how could she refuse when he was looking at her like she was his whole world, like he would carve his own heart out and give it to her if she asked, like she was the peace in the midst of his hurricane. 

Like she was his salvation. 

Tag List:

@southernbe @tessakate @ivarlover @nothingtolosebutweight @beautifulweaselplaidsalad @noway4u @cdauni @istorkyou @ringpopdust @lotr-got @kaybee87 @ultralillylove

(If anyone wants to be added or removed, please let me know!)

[silverthepenguin]

ProtocolECHO Lore Drop 1

"Welcome to Umbra. Don’t ever call it the Umbrella Continent unless you want people to think you’re a wire. That’s just what the shinies in the North call it. Umbra’s split in two. Up North, it’s all neoned. Soulless Cosmos shills, rich wireheads, and CyberOrg HQs. Everyone's so locked into the system they don’t care ATTA’s watching their every move. Down here in South Umbra? It’s a whole other story. Kinetics, Glitchers, crime so common it’s background noise. One minute you're having a peaceful dinner with your partner; next minute some rando-ass Kinetic’s lighting up the building with a fire APP. Sure, CyberOrgs operate here too, but with ten times the bots standing guard. Home sweet home."

[pbabel]

Project Babel

So, Project Babel. A game I'm working on because I have either too much or too little time on my hands. Doing it in RPG Maker MZ because I gave up on Persona Maé (find that on my main blog). The name "Project Babel" is temporary until I think of something better.

The premise: A kitsune who's also an ultra-powerful time goddess has trapped 22 people in some form of the Library of Babel. Each person, or wanderer as she calls them, has been given a Mark (a codeword of sorts), a weapon, and a Condition that they must meet before she allows them to leave. In particular, the player character's Condition basically entails helping the other wanderers meet theirs. The story of the game is essentially the player helping the wanderers with their Conditions so they can all leave.

I'll post a list of the wanderers' names and their Marks, and I'll make posts for the characters themselves whenever.

[kiikix]

About me 💋

I’m a just a french girl who need to react to every event of his life. And tumblr is the best to do it !!!

ps : I’m still learning English, so don't hesitate to correct me if I make mistakes !!! ☺️

🍓 My favorite artists

American artists :

Ariana Grande, SZA, Kali Uchis, Raye, Rhianna, Mélanie Martinez, Lady gaga, Drake, Childish Gambino,

French artists :

Damso, PNL, MZ, Luidji, Tsew the kid, Hellcat, Stromae

🍓 My favorite movies

- Hunger games, the best of all time, I’ve loved this movie since I was born !! ( TEAM PEETAAAA )

- White chicks, I can to die of laughter when I see this masterclass

- Mathilda, all children should watch it

🍓 Hobbies

- photography

- writing and reading

- football, I’m just watching

- clothes and snickers

- makeup and skincare

That’s it, I think I’ve been around !!! 🪩

If you have any questions don’t hesitate to come and talk to me !! 🩶

Love u guys and see you soon

Kiss kiss 🍓

[st-rick]

Tbh I really thought Amber is going to recall her memories after seeing that sunrise (or sunset idk) :P

What a way to start it, that's great!

Hello! Well I would like to introduce myself first of all.

I'm M4t Zrmak, I'm new to creating comics and I may not have the best structure or execution. I'm also not an English speaker so some things may be poorly written or lack drama.

Anyway, I want to introduce you to this universe that I have been working on for a year.

In this universe Amber is alive, she is still a clone and there are many things behind how she managed to survive unlike the other clones.

I want to say that this story also takes data from the Audio Drama, so yes, I did a lot of research so that the story could have coherence or at least I think so haha

Anyway, I apologize if the comic isn't very good or it's ugly.

[neil-gaiman]

Hello Mr. Gaiman,

I've always been curious about this kind of thing, so I thought I'd ask, if you're willing to share, how did you become friends with @dianeduane and the other writers around here? Was it before or after you both became authors, before or after you made it big? Through writing or through other things?

I'm a scientist (also a profession where networking is a Skill to be Learned) and aspiring writer - also a big fan of yours and Mz. Duane's work - and I've always wondered how people form these networks of professional/friendly contacts.

Thank you, and have a great day!

I met Diane and her husband Peter (also a writer) about 35 years ago at some convention or other (my brain suggests Liverpool but it might have been anywhere in the UK) with Terry Pratchett, who knew them already. We bonded over J.P. Martin's UNCLE books and ate enormous quantities of Chinese food. We have been friends ever since.

Also, Diane's tumblr handle is

[plscallmeeren]

V E N U S

Hermione Jean Granger x Luna Lovegood x Reader

Request: yes

Summary: you and Hermione study one night in Luna's part of the forest... there's flirting, teasing and well... one thing leads to another (see warnings)

Warnings: Swearing, pillow princess Luna, top Hermione, top reader, humping, scissoring, fingering, fondling, unedited

Word Count: 1.8K+

Leaves rustled at the caress of cool wind, falling to the ground in tribute to the changing seasons. Autumn had already tainted fields of them vibrant oranges and yellows, occasional red specks blossoming on the horizon.

Hagrid's hut cast long shadows across the fields, pumpkins ripe and enormous. Hermione shivered beside you, pulling her jacket closer. You offered your own, but she wouldn't let you freeze in her stead.

The two of you passed the dark lake, and by the time you had reached edge of the forest nearly the same blackness had hastily descended upon the sky. You pointed out Orion. She thought of Sirius, and you were silent once more.

"This is as good a spot as any," she announced some steps amidst the looming trees.

You nodded. "It's so quiet. I think I could almost get sick of the constant throng in that castle." You smiled at each other. She knew you didn't mean it. After all...

"You're just as much a diligent student as me. Neither of us would ever leave Hogwarts if we could choose."

"True. It's amazing, really, how pretty you are for a nerd."

"Oh, come off it." She chuckled, sitting down before a thick pine. You sat cross-legged, leaning back against an opposite hazel.

"Fine... where do you want to start?"

"Potions. I feel a bit insecure about that exam. Especially the last couple," Hermione admitted, pulling out her textbook already.

"So Draught of Peace, Felix Felicis?"

"And Amortentia."

"Mmh, I bet you just wanna talk about how much you love me. Y'know, say it always has my scent... why could that be?" you jested, grinning as she rolled her eyes.

"You wish. You probably draw me in your margins. Or do you write Mz Granger, surrounded by little hearts?" She pouted.

You only shook your head, flipping pages until you spotted Felix. "So, what are the ingredients for liquid luck?"

"Evading, I see. Well, alright, pretend you don't fancy me. Let's see. Ingredients include..." She listed them all perfectly and for some time you could study without incident, more and more of your reading depending on wand-light.

You both perked up, however, when the sound of sticks crunching reached you. Had you been spotted? It was well after dusk and no teacher would appreciate you being out around this time.

Emerging from the woods, however, was none other than Luna. "Hello," she hummed. "You've found my favourite spot. I was just feeding the thestrals."

You beamed. "Come, sit down. We were just about to start on Astronomy. Isn't that one of your best subjects?"

Luna agreed quietly, sitting down beside you. "More the stories. I love reading about Venus and Neptune and those other beauties... much like you two."

Hermione flushed red, quite grateful for the dark. "You're the moon goddess, Luna. I mean, your name."

"It suits you," you chided. "Even now, seeing the moonlight reflect on your hair, your eyes, lips..." You gulped. She was staring at your mouth now. You thought of Amortentia.

"Thank you," she whispered, drawing herself closer to you. Her coat wasn't as thick as yours or Hermione's.

"Maybe I should sketch Luna in my margins. Or little 'Mrs. Lovegood's or something like that," Hermione smiled.

"I certainly would," you agreed. Luna's cheeks were tinged pink, more visible because the attention of your lights were on her. "Are you blushing, love?"

"Can't help it," she breathed, nestling her face into your neck out of embarrassment. A strong part of her, however, only wanted to be closer. Her whole body edged imperceptibly toward you. Hermione repositioned herself also, almost closing the gap between the three of you to 'talk better'. Your hand drifted to Luna's thigh, smoothing over the wool of her dress. You resisted the sudden urge to slip beneath it, along the brown tights, up to where the fragile fabric merged...

Hermione's knees were touching yours. Even through your jeans it was electric. Your mind jerked awake, albeit the late hour.

"I was going to ask...," Hermione began cautiously, "is there still something going on between you and Neville?"

"There never was," Luna replied happily. "We went on one date and decided we were stronger friends."

Hermione glanced at you, hardly a moment, hardly a look. Luna's leg shifted and your fingers found themselves at the hem of her dress.

"Does that mean I can kiss you?" you asked before thinking it through. You could have slapped a hand over your mouth. It was the lateness, surely - surely she would understand - but instead she stood. You cursed at yourself. Humiliating.

Except then she sat down again, back to Hermione, seated on your lap. You gaped. "Well?" she prompted innocently.

Your hand captured the nape of her neck, pulling her gently closer, teasing at the soft rose curve of her Cupid's bow, the plumper flesh of her lower lip. Finally, your teeth grazed her cheek and your mouths met. She let you lead, and you forced yourself to be patient, lingering after rushed tides of kisses. Torturous.

What is happening? Your books were long forgotten beside you. Hermione leaned closer still, breath tickling the blonde’s neck. This has to be a dream. Too surreal; just like these two beautiful women. But you were too afraid to stop, lest someone change their mind.

“It’s now or never,” you thought Luna whispered, but it was mostly lost in the wind, in the distraction of her braided her brushing against your shoulder. Hermione’s lips finally reached her skin, timidly venturing along the slant of her throat. Luna pulled back for air, your mouths disconnecting for the first time, lips dark against the pale of her face.

You allowed your fingers to wander; beneath the dress, along the tights, against the pool of damp between her legs. Your eyes met her crazed ones, and amongst whines - accolades for Hermione, who had now reached fingers around her chest - you elicited a nod, maybe two, three. How much of it was just her moving in accordance with Hermione’s sloppy kisses, the rhythm of her desperate grasps at Luna’s breasts, you would never know.

Yet with hardly any hesitance, your nails pinched the fabric, pulled it down, digits exploring her folds, disoriented. You ran your thumb over her pussy, curled it once inside her, searched along her for her clit. Your index and middle finger clasped around it, almost exasperated, and she rewarded you with a breathy moan that made you shudder.

Hermione groaned, slipping her hands further under layers of clothes so that she could reach Luna’s flesh properly, her front to the other girl’s back so that she could grind herself against Luna’s ass.

You caught her lips again, less stable this time, as she was pushing back and forth between you and Hermione, hoping for more friction. Your free hand grasped her jaw to hold her face still, meeting her with all the vigour you could translate.

Hermione discarded her coat, you following suit, leaving your moon goddess momentarily untouched and dazzling as she writhed on your lap. Her thin jacket was long gone and her dress, long-sleeved top underneath, stockings - were rumpled, scrunched in various places. Before you could worry about the cold she pulled the dress over her head, then the white top. Her tights remained bunched around her ankles, panties pushed to the side.

You wished, in retrospect, you had taken a moment to just look at her, admire her, but patience was a virtue and within seconds you were all over her, tongue tracing the smooth descent of her skin, running over the stretch marks at her belly, teasing the line of her underwear. Your fingers jerked into her, curling after every quick thrust within her cunt. She moaned wildly, out of breath, hair splayed behind her head like a halo.

Hermione had lowered Luna’s torso onto her own legs, kneading at her breasts with tender defiance.

“Harder,” Luna whispered into the night, face gleaming before the brightness of Lumos. “Please.”

“Are you sure, love?” you managed.

“Yes. Please.”

You could see Hermione’s grip on Luna’s body fasten, one of her hands migrating to her mouth, where Luna greedily sucked on her digits, grunting around them. Your speed picked up, fingers slamming with more force into her pussy as you toyed with her clit. Her back arched, the bones of her shoulders digging into Hermione’s thigh while her hips gyrated faster than you could have fingered her. Moans came in gasping lungfuls, your grunts accompanying her at the effort.

“Oh, Merlyn,” Hermione whined, pulling back her hands as if she was over-stimulated herself.

Luna threw her head back fully then, coming to an abrupt standstill, but you rode her through her orgasm, cunt clenching around your fingers as you felt her cum leak onto your hand. You smeared it across her inner thighs, leaning back, watching her pant.

She slumped to the ground. You and Hermione haphazardly leaned down on either side of her, hands lazily dragging over her body. You gravitated towards Hermione, pushing past her skirt tiredly, rubbing up and down her slit, arm slung over Luna. Hermione couldn’t help but react, grinding against you. She humped your hand with increasing vigour until she was jerking on the ground, looking like she was having a fit. Pathetic noises sounded from her, desperation clear on her face.

Luna rolled over somewhat, interrupting your connection to Hermione, instead guiding their legs together. Her pussy began moving against Hermione’s and very quickly they were scissoring, both of them humping the other so fast they looked desperate. “Sluts,” you cursed, feeling yourself grow hot with want. The sound of their slick loud.

You rolled over also, positioning your groin at Luna’s ass, started thrusting yourself against the plush of her backside.

All three of you were groaning (you), moaning (Luna), whining (Hermione), a sinful orchestra with the sound of slapping skin as base.

“Oh, Merlyn, oh God, oh God-“ Hermione started to chant, and you could feel Luna’s body tense simultaneously, the two of them coming with pornographic finales. Now hurried, you gripped Luna’s waist with considerable force, pushed yourself even harder into her. Luna groaned as you worked toward your own orgasm, body being pushed back and forward with every movement.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-“ you gasped, finally coming through your clothes, the rush of it almost making your eyes roll back into your skull. “Fuck!”

Luna backed into you (for the warmth), and you carefully wrapped your coat around her sore and bare figure.

“Which subject was that?” Hermione chuckled, brown curls cascading across the leaf-covered ground to the tip of her wand.

“I just hope it isn’t taught by Professor Snape,” Luna replied drearily. You couldn’t help but laugh.

[clowngames]

I should signal boost this if for no other reason than this is the engine that literally every Pokemon fangame is made in. Pokemon Essentials is an add-on to RPG Maker XP that gives you every single tool you can imagine needing to make a Pokemon game.

If you want to make a Pokemon fangame, it is now easier than ever, and free.

oh shit rpg maker xp is completely free to own this week on steam??

[mrsalwayswrite]

The Red In Everything (Bucky Egan x f!reader)

Summary: John Egan had never been partial to any particular color in his life, but all that changed the day he met you. As time passed, you were in everything he saw, as if a primary color to his world. It was then he realized what you meant to him, and how his love burned red for you. 

This is my first submission for the 1stmotaversary! And my first time writing for Bucky! I hope you guys like it.

Week 2- Prompt: Red

Words: 7300

Warnings: mild language, mentions of injury, Stalag depression, so much fluff

John Egan had never been partial to any particular color in his life. As a kid, when people asked him what his favorite color was, he would say 'clear’, just to see what they would do or say. His mom liked to smack him with her dishcloth while he ran away laughing. If he was forced to choose, it would be the gray of the Yankees uniforms.  

But all that changed the day he met you. Not that he realized it at the time. No, it was a gradual awareness. As if after meeting you, there was one color that always caught his eye no matter where he was, no matter what he was doing. He would see it and immediately be swallowed by thoughts of you. 

As time passed, you were in everything he saw. As if a primary color to his world. A necessary part to truly see the colors and beauty in his surroundings. And it was then he realized what you meant to him…

And how his love burned red like a raging fire for you. 

*****

It was beyond Bucky's comprehension as to why Coronel Harding allowed a female gunner in his bomb group but there you were, in the first round of replacements. You were assigned to Crank's fort, replacing his left gunner. Bucky could hear the grumbling from some of the men, but he tried to shut it down before the complaints spread and word reached the Brass. 

Late in bed one night, shadows slinking further into the barrack with only the weak moonlight to combat it, he finally asked the question rattling around in his brain like a loose screw. He rolled onto his side, folding the pillow under his arm. He knew his best friend was awake, he could tell by his breathing he was just laying there, probably thinking about Marge. 

“What do you think about it?” Bucky whispered. 

“Hmm?”

“Y'know. A dame fighting in one of our forts.”

His friend paused for a long time before answering, seemingly swirling the question around in his own mind before answering. Something Bucky had gotten used to over the development of their friendship. 

Finally, Gale said, almost lazily. “She must have passed the same tests the rest of ‘em went through. I figure she's good enough then. Guess we'll find out up there.”

“Yeah, guess so.” Bucky nodded, laying his head back down. The thought caused apprehension to coil like a snake in his belly. He knew what was up there. The threat in the skies. The danger of their job. The likelihood of one's plane going down- to end up dead or as a POW. He knew.

To his amazement, and those of the 100th, you survived your first flight. To further stun them, as if in petty spitefulness of their doubt, you excelled. The machine gun and you moved as one entity, so smoothly and rapidly it was frankly unnerving. The gun never jammed for you. You never missed a shot. Within the range of your machine gun, no Messerschmitt escaped. One by one they fell from the sky like shooting stars with a trail of smoke and fire as their tail. 

Back on the ground, Bucky could only gape in astonishment. 

“She's good.” Gale nodded towards you, having come up beside him. Both of them watched as you loaded up on the truck to head towards debriefing, the bright red bandana you wore around your neck under your flight jacket stood out amongst the muted uniforms colors. 

Bucky blinked slowly. “Yeah…damn good.” 

“Glad she's on our side.”

Bucky watched the truck you were on drive away, your bright scarf peeking above your flight jacket, he felt his world tilt on its axis slightly. If it was more in-alignment or off-kilter was up for debate at that moment. All he knew was his eyes refused to look away. 

The next day, he was shooting the shit with some of the guys, smoking and laughing outside of the mess hall when you happened to pass by.  

“Hey!” Crank shouted, getting your attention. “Where'd you learn to shoot like that?”

You hesitated, biting your lower lip. After a long second, you crossed your arms over your chest and walked closer. “My brother wanted to be a major league pitcher. Someone had to practice batting for him. Developed good hand-eye coordination I guess.” You shrugged, “doesn't hurt that we'd shoot beer bottles behind the neighbor's house.”

“Better than good, I'd say.” Brady commented quietly, respect in his tone. 

The mention of baseball perked Bucky's interest and he spoke before realizing it. “Did he get in?” 

“What?”

“Your brother. Did he get into the major leagues?”

“Oh. Not yet.” You smiled, an inner light turning on which was captivating. “But he's going to try out for our team once the war is done.”

“Who's your team?”

“The Boston Red Soxes.”

Bucky dramatically groaned, clutching his chest as if shot. “No, dollface, say it isn't true!”

You laughed, “Yankees fan?”

“Of course! Best damn team there is!”

“Huh.” You tilted your head to the side as if examining a complicated puzzle. “I've always heard delusion is a strong trait in Yankees fans. Let me know when you come to your senses and decide to cheer for the real winning team. Besides, our last rivalry game, we won 5-1 so….” 

The guys around him chuckled at your playful barb delivered in such a saccharine tone but with the sweetest smile…it was hard to feel insulted. 

“We've got more World Series wins!” He argued, trying in vain to hide his own amusement.

You stepped back with a teasing smirk and lackadaisical wave of your hand. “For now. Good luck, major, your team needs it!”

He watched you walk away, selfishly delighted there was someone else on base who appeared to love baseball as much as him, even if it was for the wrong team. 

What shocked him the most was the powerful urge to follow you. That sudden desire to keep hearing you talk, to make you laugh and see you light up again gnawed at him. No other woman had drawn such an innate reaction out of him, like it was something beyond the rational mind, magnetized to you. 

Instead he cemented his feet to the ground, roughly yanking a fresh cigarette out and lit it, trying to distract himself. Yet, his thoughts wandered to you and he wondered where your red scarf was.  

*****

Only starlight decorated the sky outside due to the new moon and the black-out. Inside the local town's pub, was a different story. Laughter and music rang out, a mixture of weak electricity and candlelight allowed for patrons to see their friends, meanwhile drinks flowed endlessly. A night to pretend there was not a war outside of the pub doors. A night to relax. A night to shake the weight of responsibility and pick up the mantle of freedom and youthfulness. 

Or at least pretend too. 

Needing a break from the base, Bucky and several others decided to make the trek to the pub for a change of scenery. The group playing cards around the table were on their second round of drinks already. Veal had wandered off to take his shot with a local British girl who was giving him coy looks that were anything but subtle. 

It was as Bucky played his hand, two pairs of hearts that he had been bluffing out of his ass about, that he happened to glance towards the door and promptly froze. It had opened and closed repeatedly during the time he had been sitting down, but somehow this time it drew his attention, as if summoned, as if magnetized…to see you walk in looking like a vision. 

He was unsure how you got permission to wear non-regulation clothing, but he was eternally grateful you had. The dress was fitted to your chest and torso like a glove only to flare out loosely at the hips, the hem ending mid-calf. The bold red color of the garment created a tantalizing appearance, clearly meant to seduce him, to drive him wild and yearn for you anew. 

The breath was snatched from his lungs at the first glimpse of you. Then as you moved about the pub with some nurses you had befriended, it tested his restraint to not gape and drool like an untouched teenage boy. You had always been beautiful in his opinion, growing even more so over the past weeks as the other men and himself got to know you. Your sarcastic humor, your loyalty, your ability to stay calm in the most dire circumstances. It all endeared you to the men. No longer were you a new replacement but a cherished member of the 100th. Especially with your deadly aim. There was a running joke that during the line-up, the pilots sought out being placed on Crank's left side. Bucky knew he had. 

Tonight, though, you were a dream. A vision only imagined, but could never come true. A fantasy of quiet seduction, of pure unadulterated joy in your laughter, of poise and peace and…everything. You were everything. 

“You're staring.”

“Hmmm?” Bucky mumbled. 

“You haven't stopped staring at her since she walked in the door.” Gale leaned closer from his seat next to him, pitching his voice low so only Bucky would hear. “I'd recommend you stop unless you want your interest known.”

He scoffed, dragging his gaze away from you. “What interest? I'm just admiring a beautiful woman.” He quickly took a sip of his warm beer, trying not to chug the thing as he purposefully avoided his best friend's knowing gaze. 

“If you say so.”

No matter how hard he tried, it was as if you silently called to him, beckoned his gaze to linger on you. To touch you with his eyes, to admire your grace and beauty, to feel the first biting coils of jealousy when another man stole your attention away from your friends.  

“I'm going to ask her to dance.” He murmured to himself. That need was too great, the call echoing in his mind, unwilling to allow him peace. He tossed his cards on the table, uncaring the round was not even done yet. There was somewhere else more important right now. 

“John, don't do anything stupid.” Gale sighed. 

“Hey, what's going on?” Biddick asked from Gale's other side. He blinked and leaned back as his superior office stood up. “You going somewhere, major?”

But Bucky did not answer. He wiped the faint wetness from his upper lip on the back of his sleeve and tugged on his uniform. Zeroed in on you, as if everything else in the pub was just background noise, he started to push towards where you stood. Like a queen holding court, you stood surrounded by those nurses and a few soldiers. 

Sneaking up behind, he wrapped an arm around your waist, whispering into your ear. “Dance with me.”

“Major–”

He could hear the beginning of your argument start up like a rehearsed monologue, but he felt the shiver course through your body under his touch. The sensation fueled his need. 

He tugged you towards the makeshift dance floor, a small space created by pushing the tables out of the way and near the musicians, not giving you the choice to bow out. Oh, he was aware of the longing looks thrown his way by the nurses he stole you from, others who would have gladly traded places with you. But he ignored them. They were a blip on his radar, a fleeting glance, while you had his whole attention. 

He smiled as you grumbled beside him, yet falling into step with the dance. 

“Well, here we are.” You flatly stated, finally meeting his gaze. 

“Someone as beautiful as you needs to be shown off and I'm just the lucky fella to do it.” He explained, spinning you out only to bring you in closer. Once your eyes met his again, he lowered his voice from teasing to something more vulnerable. “You do look beautiful. A real angel. Like something out of a painting.”

You hummed in acknowledgement then flashed an impish smile. “And you're a charming rake.”

“Rake?!” He sputtered, almost missing a step in the dance. 

“Uh huh. See, I understand your ways, you compliment and flirt in the hopes of stealing away innocent women into a dark corner to have your wicked way.”

If he could not hear the teasing tone in your voice and see the mischievous light in your eyes, he might have been insulted that this was the image you thought of him. Maybe at one time it was, but then you walked onto the grounds of Thorpe Abbotts and he was never the same. 

“Is that so?” He tipped his head down, your bodies on the verge of indecently close for where you were, and for all the eyes most likely watching. “I don't recall you complaining when I stole you away.”

“A misunderstanding.” You huffed, rolling your eyes. 

“And the second time?”

“A mistake.”

“The last time I remember you dragging me away and dropping–”

You cut him off with a hand over his mouth, eyes wide and surveying around to see if anyone might have overhead. Once satisfied, you placed your hand back on his broad shoulder. “Like I said, a mistake.”

“Ouch, you're gonna hurt a man's ego, dollface, saying things like that.”

You shrugged, unrepentant.

He knew he was playing with fire. That this was a dangerous game he played. In the end, he was the one to probably get burned. Yet he could not help himself. He had gotten a taste of you and was addicted. You were everything he ever wanted and everything he did not know he needed. 

He pulled you back in after a spin, lips ghosting over your ear as he whispered. “Should we test that out tonight? See if it's still a mistake or the best decision you've ever made?”

A throaty chuckle escaped you, but he could feel the way your hands clutched his a little tighter, he could see the hitch in your breath, the way your body leaned into his a bit more. And he knew…he knew you felt the same. This magnetization. This yearning. Whatever this spark was between the two of you that he wanted to throw himself into and feel its heat in his veins. He opened his mouth to propose a hidden spot to escape too, because he knew you would say–

“An interesting theory but I'll pass.” You interrupted his thoughts, jarring him back into reality. “I need to focus on my job and…and not getting distracted. Besides, there's plenty of others who would gladly steal away with you. Take your pick, major.”

He whispered your name, a plea to reconsider, but you had already pulled away from him. 

You stepped away, out of his arms, out of his embrace, to stand before him like a queen with your head held high. “Thanks for the dance, Bucky.” You said with a reserved smile on your lips. 

Like a knife to the gut, he watched you walk away, leaving him on the dance floor, wondering if he should chase after you. Wondering how he could tell you the damming truth he had tried to fight for so Iong but unable to contain anymore. Unwilling to ignore for a moment longer. 

He did not want other girls, could barely glance at them….he only wanted you. 

*****

As soon as Colonel Harding debriefed Bucky about the Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission and the following race to Africa, he knew it would be a shit show. 

There were too many moving components, too many other companies involved and everything depended on timing. All in all, the perfect recipe for disaster. Besides that, Bucky would be damned to leave his crews behind for this mission. He could not fathom it. Who knew what terror they would experience, what the Nazis would try to throw at them. He would never forgive himself if he left them alone to fight this battle without him. 

Reserve command pilot was a nice touch. 

He had been on plenty of missions at this point, seen hell in the sky and blood and fire rain down, but nothing could prepare him for the sheer amount of horror and adrenaline as they fought those Nazi bastards who swarmed them like vultures, claws sharp and bullets unwavering. 

Then the unthinkable happened, something that rocked the foundation of Bucky's core. Smoke trailing behind the fort, engines on fire, fighters zeroed in on Cleven…

Like a beast finally unleashed, gnashing and twisting at the chains holding it back, Bucky moved. Seeing Gale under attack, seeing him limping along, he could not sit back and observe anymore. He had to do something! Selfishly, he prayed Gale could hold on…that he would not bail, not yet. He needed his best friend. 

Without remorse, he kicked the gunner off his post, wind whipping around him and eyes watering beneath his helmet. 

“I've got your back, beautiful!” He yelled to his new partner as he prepared his machine gun, a smirk teasing his lips that no one else could see. 

You laughed, still firing away, never looking over your shoulder at the man standing behind you. “Nice to see you off your ass!”

Then, only the fight mattered, spying out the next Messerschmitt before it could hurt his crews, his friends. The sense of you at his back boosted his morale, even as he watched more American planes drive to the ground, some with parachutes and others coated in fire. He tried to focus on the skies, on the current fight and not those heading to the ground, those he failed to save.

Like the snap of a rubber band, the tension faded, dimming to a dull ache instead of an overwhelming roar, as the Nazi fighter jets flew away. Just as planned, their fuel tanks could only last for so long. Now was the short window of opportunity for them to fly unmolested. 

Breathing hard and exhausted, he fell back among the hundreds of bullet shells, uncaring of how they dug into his back.

“Hey! Cleven still with us?” He shouted up to the pilots,  unmoving. 

“Yeah!”

Bucky exhaled loudly at the response, something wild finally lulled to a simmer within his chest. He knew his friend was not out of the woods yet, but he was still in that sky, still with him. 

With the flood of relief that he had not lost his best friend, he finally noticed you still standing, leaning against your machine gun. “Hey, you alright?”

Slowly, you turned, hand pressed your side. The first thing he noticed was the pained expression on your face, the squint of your eyes and the tension in your jaw. Secondly was the red blood oozing out from between your fingers, staining your flight jacket and webbing. 

If he thought seeing Gale in dire trouble shook him to the core, seeing you bleeding and in pain made his entire world shatter.

Immediately, he was up on his feet, fatigue only an afterthought as he reached for you. “Ah, Christ, dollface, come ‘ere.” He meant to grab your shoulders, but startled when you practically collapsed into his arms. “Shit. Where ya hit?”

“My side…I–I don't think it hit anything important.”

“Everything about you is important.” He teased, welcoming your weight against him. Somehow he managed to settle the two of you on that dirty floor, bullet shells scattered around you like confetti at a party. Your body rested in the cradle of his, your back pressed to his chest and his hand covering yours, uncaring of the blood staining his hand. His other hand entwined with the fingers of your free hand, trying to steady the consistent tremors.  

“When did you get hit?” He questioned, fear latching onto his vocal cords, making his voice sound strained. 

“Mmmm…A while ago? I'm not sure.”

“Goddamn it. Why didn't you say anything?”

“Was busy.” You mumbled, turning your face to press against his solid chest. 

“Hey, stay with me, alright?” He jostled you slightly, trying not to hurt you but winced when you let out a sharp hiss. “No drifting off. Couple hours and we'll be in Africa. The doc there will fix you up, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Beautiful, I'm serious.”

You squeezed his fingers, your voice slow and syrupy through the pain. “I know, Bucky, I know. I'm not leaving you.”

No one commented on how the rest of the flight Bucky held you, cocooned in his arms, his hands covering yours. Or how he told random stories, anything he could think of to keep you awake and try to take your mind off the pain. Or the frequent whispered reassurances or tender kisses he pressed to your temple. 

Once on the ground, Bucky only left your side to join Kidd in welcoming Gale's crew to Africa, leaving you under Crank and Brady's watch. He needed to check on his best friend, to see with his own eyes that Gale was alive.

After that, he was right back by your side. 

Until they stole you away from him for surgery, surrounded by nurses and a doctor in outfits that were most likely white at one point. He paced like a caged tiger outside of the surgery tent, back and forth. Tension hummed in his veins like static, leaving him jumpy and unable to relax. 

Once the base's doctor finally came out, your blood still staining his apron and hands, to give his report, did Bucky feel like he could take a breath. The doctor said you were lucky, the bullet into your side broke two ribs and was stopped by a third rib, otherwise only hitting soft tissue. He was able to retrieve the bullet and patch you up, but stated you would need sufficient time to recover.

Bucky was unsure if he would vomit due to the sheer relief of hearing you would be okay or the thought of how close he was to losing you while in his arms. 

He was there when you woke up from the anesthesia, groggy and so damn cute, and he visited as often as allowed otherwise. It was divided among the nurses if they found it romantic or annoying how he was always in their way to check on you. 

It was one of those visits where he was reading aloud ‘Guys and Dolls’ while sitting next to your recovery bed that you softly spoke up. 

“You should go. Go get that cold beer promised, relax with the men. You don't need to babysit me.”

It stung that you thought he was only here to babysit you, but he tried not to let his hurt show as he teased you. “I'm not leaving you here, dollface. Some handsome officer might come in and charm you. I can't have you falling in love with someone else.”

The roll of your eyes competed with the small smile as you snarked. “Who says I'm in love with you?”

“You let me hold you.” 

“I was injured.”

“About as close to a proposal coming from you.” He laughed as you smacked his leg. “It's alright, I don't mind waiting for you to realize you're in love with me.”

“Might be waiting a while.” You answered on a whisper, voice pitched so low he was unsure if you meant for the words to pass your lips. 

His heart clenched, but he cleared his throat, trying to keep things light. “Got a war to win, it's a decent distraction I guess. Now are you gonna let me finish or not? This is my favorite part.”

You chuckled but settled back down on the hospital cot as he continued reading. Neither of you verbally acknowledged when your hand snagged his, gliding your fingers to slot between his like they were meant to be there. He only readjusted, holding the book one-handed and continued out without a pause. 

Even as something that tasted like peace and contentment curled around you both.

*****

The wind howled outside like a monster waiting in the dark. Yet it was the biting cold which snuck through the cracks of the barracks in Stalag Luft III, making the men shiver even in their coats, that concerned them the most. Winter grasped the land and air in its clutches. As inevitable as the seasons changed but heralding with it a heavy fog of dark depression and hopelessness. Some of the men tried their best to cheer one another up, but in the cold and dark, it was easy to fall into that swirling, oppressive abyss. 

Thankfully, there was one thing that sparked hope and life back into the POWs’ eyes. 

“MAIL CALL!”

All the men perked up as the corporal made it to their room, calling out names and handing out letters. Eyes and smiles eager for any tidbits from home, any hope from life outside of the Stalag. 

Silently, Bucky watched, sitting at the small table, as the letters were handed out, only a few in the room receiving anything. He tried to hide the hurt, the sting, as his name remained unspoken while his best friend stared down at the new letter from Marge, that tender smile teasing his lips, the one reserved for his girl only. 

“Oh, Egan! There's one here for you! Sorry, almost missed it.” 

Bucky greedily took it, barely sparing the kid a look as excitement rushed through him like a fire storm. When he opened it and saw your handwriting, waves of homesickness and peace smacked him, one after the other relentlessly, and all he could do was stare. 

You had not given up on him. Even after all this time and distance. 

Gale would call it an irrational fear, but that did not alleviate the fear, nor release the shackle it had slipped around Bucky's ankle as he withered away in the Stalag. Before he left for that last mission, to avenge Gale's fallen fort, that final night he cried in your arms. And in the morning, he disappeared before you woke up. Looking back now, he wished he said something- anything!- but he was too heartsore to properly confess his feelings for you. Grief tightened like a noose around his vocal cords, preventing what words should have been spoken from coloring the air around the two of you.

How he would give almost anything to go back and change that last morning with you, instead of slinking away like a coward. 

Crank's question drew Bucky's attention back to the present and the envelope in his hands. “Who'd Bucky get a letter from?” 

With the way Gale replied, saying your name teasingly but fondly without even having to see the return address, Bucky wondered if he had his own tender smile on his lips. 

“She got any news from the base?” Brady asked, laying on his bunk.

“Ah,” Bucky shook himself, casting off the lingering remorse of his past actions, “lemme see.” 

“Just read the damn thing out loud.” 

Most of the guys that received letters would take turns reading them aloud for those in their shared barrack room. It started off as a means to pass the time but grew into a source of gaining information about home and the war front. Something the bastards running the Stalag refused to share with them. Your letters were the only ones from someone still at Thorpe Abbotts, and the men yearned for information from there. 

He cleared his throat as he unfolded the letter, trying not to drown at the view of your handwriting and the little doodles scattered around the edges. 

“Um…she says…

‘Dear Bucky,

I hope you and the men are hanging in there and staying warm. Blakely, Croz and Lemmons send their regards, and a bunch of other idiots but I'm not naming them all. That would be the whole letter. Just know you and all the guys are missed. Thorpe Abbotts isn't the same without you. 

Say ‘hello’ to the guys from me. Give Cleven a hug and kiss from me. But do NOT kiss him on the mouth! Like on the cheek or something. Or maybe just– nevermind. Don't do it. We don't need to traumatize the poor man again. Honestly, I don't know why he puts up with you.

What's interesting news to share?

A new group of replacements came in and I swear some of them have never shaved. They look like kids but act like roosters with the way they preen about. You were never like that, right? Who are we kidding, you would have led the preening parade with your bright white sheepskin. Probably have all the ladies clucking after you like hens. 

Oh! Speaking of ladies. You remember that secretary you used to flirt with relentlessly? The one with the big eyes and tits? Doris was her name. Anyway, last month she got hitched with some RAF guy. I guess they met at the pub and hit it off. Only problem is he is ugly as sin. My God, the poor man has ears that are long and droop like a dog's, he's missing a couple teeth so when he talks it has a faint whistle to it, and his nose is trying to eat his face. But she says she loves him, so… love makes you blind, that's the saying, right? 

Other news…the amount of times I have to wake Crosby at his desk is getting terrifying. Blakely and I take turns. He's running himself ragged but.. he just wants to make sure everything is perfect. But as we all know, nothing is perfect once you're up in the air. On a positive side, I think he's got himself a lady on the side, but don't you tell his wife! 

Also, the Yankees are still awful. I mean they're won the past few games but it was just pure luck I'm sure. 

There's been more missions on–’

“Uh, there's a chunk blacked-out. Guess that Hausman bastard read this first.” Bucky practically growled, thinking about that sly interrogator touching what you had written for him! 

‘There's so much to share but now sitting here, I'm not sure if any of it's actually important. Even what I've written already seems useless. Just know I miss–’

Bucky abruptly stopped reading, folding it over with sharp, efficient movements. “The rest of it is for my eyes alone.”

“Awww come on, it's just getting good.” Hambone teased, shuffling the card deck between his hands repeatedly.  

“Don't need you dodos thinking about her anymore than you already do.”

“You don't think they are sending her up there with these new kids, right?” Crank mused, the furrow of his brow and the quiet tone highlighting his concern.

Bucky tensed, thinking of you in the sky again. Of you up there without him to watch your back. After the Schweinfurt-Regensburg mission, you had been grounded due to your injuries, but that of course did not stop you from helping the boys however you could. You eventually found a spot helping Lemmons with making sure the forts were supplied before each mission, something he was incredibly grateful for. 

No one needed to know the strings both himself and Gale pulled to try and keep you on the ground, even as it became obvious you were healing fine. 

Now with the rate the men were getting shot down, they needed all the help they could up in the skies. And he was not there…he could not stop it, he was not there to make pleas and demands for your safety, for you to never be put in danger like that again…if you were shot down….if you died–

“No.” Gale replied, snapping Bucky from his inner spiraling. The certainty in Gale's voice helped flush the strangling tension away. “Harding wouldn't do that. She's probably still training and helping with supplies like when we left. More than likely giving these new kids the run around.”

“Yeah…yeah, you're right.” Crank said with a twitch of his lips and a nod towards the major. 

Without a word, Bucky stood up from the table, tension leeching any kind of grace from the movement. He crawled into his bunk to read the rest of your letter. For half a second he felt bad for shutting the guys out, but the thought of something happening to you was more than he could handle in his current state. When Gale followed suit, crawling into his own bed next to Bucky's to read his letter from Marge, Bucky's concern drifted away. Gale never shared his letters from his girl, and although it gave the men fodder to tease their leader, they respected it. Bucky expected they would do the same for him. 

‘Just know I miss you. You lit up this place with your presence and laughter. Now it feels like living in a graveyard, minus the preening cocks walking around. I catch myself looking for you sometimes and it hurts I've been rereading your Guys and Dolls book, I figured you wouldn't mind if I borrowed it from your footlocker. Also, why the hell do you have so many rubbers? Almost gave me a heart attack trying to sort through those. Anyway, I've been reading your book before bed, so I fall asleep thinking of you. I know we never made any promises to each other but…I don't know what I'm trying to say anymore. 

I'm not saying I'm in love with you, no matter what you say. I guess…I'm simply saying I miss you terribly. Please stay safe and be smart. I know your heart can sometimes be stronger than your brain in making decisions, but please, keep your head down and be smart. This war won't last forever and I need want you to come back. I'll be waiting.’

He could feel the slow roll of a tear down his temple as he laid on his back, staring up at your letter. Even though he read the entirety of it twice, his hands refused to close it. His gaze remained on the bright red lipstick at the bottom of the letter next to your name, the imprint of your kiss. Uncaring of those around, he brought the letter to his lips and pressed his own against yours. He continued to stare at the red imprint of your lips, memories skating across his mind. Memories of kissing you, of holding you in his arms, your laughter and smile that was warmer than the sun, the breathy sigh of his name on your lips, your sarcastic quips that always amused him. You were never far from his thoughts, a lighthouse in the quagmire of darkness and depression swirling in his mind, threatening to drag him under with a single-minded possession. 

“Hey, you alright?”

Bucky exhaled harshly, wiping the evidence of tears away before folding the letter. He rolled onto his stomach to face his best friend, as he laid in his bed, both now facing one another. 

“Yeah, yeah. Just…” Words eluded Bucky as he stared into the knowing, understanding eyes of Gale. All he could sigh out was a repeated, “yeah.”

“Hmmm. We'll get out of here. Get you back to your girl.”

Bucky smiled at his best friend's attempt to cheer him up. Both knowing the one time Bucky had called you ‘his girl’ in front of you, you had attempted to kick his ass. When he finally dropped to the ground, clutching his nuts, he knew you were serious. 

That did not stop him from making a point to the replacements that you were off limits. 

Yet Gale's words shone through the darkness in his mind, a shaft of sunlight piercing through the dark clouds. He clung to that sentiment like a compass while lost in the woods. He had to return to you. There was no other option. 

He refused to believe this was the end. 

*****

The view from Clear-Up Tower was perfect. Fireworks colored the night sky. Laughter, happy screams and general jovial mayhem echoed throughout Thorpe Abbotts with the news. 

The war was over. 

After everything Bucky had endured, with everything he had seen, all the deaths that still haunted him…it was hard to swallow the pill that it was all done. When Gale approached him, wrapping him in a tight hug that conveyed more than words ever could, it was then he knew it was true. Somehow they made it. 

Instead of celebrating like he would have before being shot down from the sky, partying and drinking until his liver screamed for a reprieve, he wanted to drink in the moment with those that mattered most to him. 

With Gale's enthusiastic consent, they found you and snuck away to Clear-Up Tower. Together, the three of you watched the fireworks and passed a flask around. Instead of filling the air with idle chatter, an almost holy reverence for the moment clung to you. A realization that you had all made it through the war and would be going home. 

With his best friend sitting in the chair next to him and you sitting in his lap, leaning back against him, he knew there was only one more thing that would make this the best night of his life. 

Bucky cleared his throat, overly aware of his hand idly running up and down your thigh. “Hey, did you make a decision yet?”

“About what?” You answered, voice just above a murmur. 

“If you're gonna return home after all this.”

You sighed, gaze still fixed on the colorful sky. “No. I know I need to decide but…”

The way your voice trailed off confirmed his suspicions. You had mentioned in passing once about an angry letter you received from your parents after you arrived in England. When he tried to ask more about it, you clammed up, changing the subject and never bringing it up again. 

He swallowed thickly, a poor attempt to clear the nerves, meanwhile his heart pounded within his chest. He prayed you could not feel it.

“Well, why don't you come home with me?”

A long moment passed, only spiking his heart rate and increasing his nerves as he waited for your response. Slowly you sat up, still in his lap but facing him, your head tilted to the side and brow furrowed. “What?”

“Yeah, ya know. Come back to Wisconsin with me. Obviously, Buck is coming too. He can't seem to leave me alone.”

“Damn stone in my shoe.” Gale mumbled as he took a sip from the flask. 

“We've got to find a house for him and Marge. They haven't set an official date yet for their wedding but we'll be there. I figured we might as well be neighbors too. It'll be fun. Sunday cookouts together. Someone next door to help out if something breaks. Maybe start some holiday traditions.” He smiled softly down at you. “So what do ya say? Want to come to Wisconsin with us?”

You smiled over at Gale before turning your thoughtful gaze to him. “And if I come? Where am I living?”

He could hear it, the hesitation, the need for clarity, the desire for those unspoken promises to fully come into the light. 

And he had no problem sharing how he felt…for a long time now. 

“With me. Where else?” He chuckled, taking your hand and pressing his lips to your knuckles, watching that beautiful smile of yours grow. “Oh, but you'll need this first.”

With nerves bubbling inside of him like a cauldron, he pulled out the small box in his pocket and handed it to you. The gasp you released at seeing it in his hand only redoubled the nerves. Time seemed to stop as you stared down at the velvet box and when you finally, carefully, reached for it, he felt like he was showing you his physical heart which beat your name. 

He had known for months, even before being shot down, that you were the woman for him. That no one else would ever compare to you. Since returning to England, he had agonized about how to move forward with you. How to convince you to come home with him, to never leave his side and be his future. He was lucky, as he passed by a jeweler's store in the next town over, on an errand for the Colonel. That was when he saw it. The red ruby solitaire was not traditional but nothing about your relationship was. 

He watched as you gently held the velvet box like it was the most precious thing in the world, and he knew he had made the right choice. “I figured it made sense for you to change your last name. Mrs Egan sounds better. It'll also help with mailing and purchasing our home.”

“You've got this all figured out, huh?” You turned your eyes up to him and he thought he would happily drown in the love shining through. 

“I have for a while now.” He confessed. 

You chuckled wetly. “I think you're supposed to put it on my finger. That's how you properly propose. Right, Buck?”

“I wouldn't know. I asked Marge through a letter.” Gale replied with a broad smile. 

Bucky wanted to make a joke, anything to keep the lighthearted moment, but the words stuck to his throat at his actions, sealing his future and yours. Carefully, he pulled the solitaire out of the box and slid it on your finger. The red ruby caught the light of the fireworks, sparkling and entrancing him. You were his. Forever. 

“Congratulations. I'm happy for both of you.” Gale clapped a hand on his shoulder. 

“Thank you, Buck.” You softly replied, staring down at the ring. “I need to meet Marge since we'll be neighbors soon.”

“I'm certain we can arrange something.”

You looked back at Bucky and he felt his heart soar when you cupped his face, staring into his eyes. It was almost instinctual the way both of you leaned closer, drawing together for a kiss, a soft melding of mouths that spoke of the longing and devotion you both carried. 

It was when you leaned back, a spark of mischief in your eyes that he knew he was a goner. 

“So…with our home…I can decorate it however I want, right?”

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

“Wonderful.” You pecked his lips, a coy smile on your face. “I can't wait to hang up my Red Soxs flags! My brother and I have been collecting them for years.”

Bucky groaned loudly, dropping his head to your shoulders, even as his best friend laughed beside them. 

“Dollface, you're killing me. There's no way we're hanging those up.”

“But you said anything…”

“Goddamn it.”

“Well, maybe if you play your cards right, Mr John Egan, I'll allow you to hang up some Yankees paraphernalia in our home. Even though they are awful.”

“Our home.” He repeated, a shiver shooting down his spine as he thought about it. The arguments of how to best decorate the house, buying things to fill it and make it a home, the quiet mornings together and hopefully the loud nights together in your future bed. 

He tugged you closer, stealing a kiss before entwining your fingers with his. “I can't imagine anything better.”

*****

If anyone ever asked him what his favorite color was, the answer was always red. Not because of the emotion it evoked or how it looked, but because of the memories it conjured in his mind. For the color would always remind him of you. 

And the love that filled you and your home for the rest of your lives. 

[silverthepenguin]

Death Angels: Master-Post

Death Angels is a multimedia franchise that spans written stories, art, and games. Death Angels is split into *timelines,* Each timeline is connected somehow and tells its own story. Though rare, some timelines can overlap characters and powers.

⤷TIMELINE: Death Angels Legacy (#DeathAngels) (#DeathAngelsLegacy) (#DALRevival) Legacy is an action-packed, multi-arc written story. Yuki Yamada, The Okami God of Devils, Invaded Earth on Feb 14th of 2025. This same day was the 6th birthday of Shogo Katsuki, a young boy of the Katsuki Arcana. Yuki invaded Earth to kill off every Okami Warrior belonging to Earth. This way, when he destroyed the world, no one would fight against him. His planned was ultimately stopped by Shadow Katsuki, the older brother of Shogo. Knowing that the rouge God would come back, Shadow infused the power of the Chaos God into his younger brother, with the hope that when Yuki came back, Shogo would be strong enough to defeat him This power is both a blessing and a curse, however, as it slowly transforms Shogo into the new God of Chaos. All the while, entities of Chaos such as his sword, Yamada, manipulate him into giving up his humanity and morals and accepting the God of Chaos title. Shogo's humanity and will is tested as he goes through his teenage years, attempting to control the power of Chaos all while he and his revolutionary allies fight against the influence of the Chaos, The Gods, their fellow humans, and their corrupt government. Read Chapter 1 For Free Here

⤷TIMELINE: Death Angels Excalibur (#DAExcalibur) Excalibur is an action/adventure turned-based RPG currently in development using the RPG Maker engine. Zero is a young Aura Wielder from the nation of Atlus. The 22-year-old sword using Mercenary floats around the country of Atlus looking for any job that can pay for his needs. Though the merc doesn't kill, he gets praise for always getting the job down. One day, Zero gets contacted by Ai Asato, a Japanese businessman who recently purchased some warehouses in Nebula City, Atlus. The job is simple, protect the warehouses while Asato sets everything up and get paid. Unlucky for Zero, the job didn't go so easy. Trouble arises as he meets a mysterious girl who gives him a cryptic message. He ignores it until her words become reality. Zero suddenly awakens to a new power, and 4 different factions want him for their own use. He must choose between 4 powerful entities or death. Play the Demo Here

[pbabel]

i know this is a Large Large undertaking for a first project, but i have the passion and i have the characters and i love them and i will see it through

[813ths]

mz alice. you magnificent b.

i know I've already read this some time last year. bitch only did this now lmfaooo. i know i felt all kinds of feelings that time. i definitely know i sobbed like a little bitch.. and i could still remember how i just sat in a corner silently, reflecting... rethinking my life choices. lol but seriously i admire you so much for stepping out of your usual genres and tropes (...and your usual comfort zone(?)) for awhile and tried something like this. which is, well, very unusual (i don't mean this in a bad way or anything, i just don't really know how to articulate it better I'm so sorry), way far from the ones we all get used to and boy did you ace it. you are so fucking amazing at this. you exceeded my expectations. i honestly avoided this for quite some time for the sole reason that i know it's going to break my heart into a million tiny pieces and then get stomped on a million more times. it is inevitable though. it's mark lee. YOU wrote it. it truly IS something else. and i love you so much for writing this pls let me give you a big big smooch and a hug.

ok. the first dance. the (sexual OFC) tension which made me sit on edge every. damn. time. despite their knowledge about each other already (or rather suspicions)... doesn't erase the fact that it's so heartbreaking and depressing when mark told her about his real name... and the inevitable happened. all fell apart. (just drive in the knife why don't u! >:'((((( ) of course when a bad guy like jaemin here have a character development it wouldn't end so well. i am still debating which makes me sad until NOW: the two's fate or jaemin's. idk idk it always changes but goddddd i really wished there was something else for jaemin something good or hopeful at least :((( but hey that one's still acceptable and very fitting. i just couldn't cope well lmaooo tell u a secret since i read this so late i totally scrolled thru your blog just to look for some asks that might have the answers i was hoping for and im okay i still managed to find it. :''))))) love lovelove the endingggg thank you so so so much for going this way. or else i wouldn't have survived the pain NSHDJEUDHSJSHSH i have some favorite lines here but ig the last one truly is undefeated. again. ilysm thank you so fucking much for writing this. what a hell of a ride. i cried. i smiled. my heart broke. then warmed up. it's a cycle.

meant to break

❝ why don’t you try going against us? see who ends up with lead pumped through their skull. ❞

PAIRING ▸ lee minhyung x fem!reader (ft. na jaemin)

GENRES ▸ smut, angst, fluff, historical, 1920s au, flapper au, mafia au, detective au

WARNINGS ▸ profanity, violence, mentions of character death, unprotected sex (wrap before u tap), lots of teasing, praise kink, lowkey dumbification, fingering

SUMMARY ▸ when the mafia’s members task you to distract a detective that’s hot on their trail, you have no choice to accept. there’s no place for love when you’re simply a trap for lee minhyung to walk into, but you still want to immerse yourself into everything he is.

PLAYLIST ▸ young and beautiful by lana del rey • am i blue? by billie holiday

WORD COUNT ▸ 10,019 words

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ wowowww me writing a historical au??? unheard of! but shoutout to my historical au queen @jenoentry for hyping me up to write this <3 i hope you guys like it !! 

NEW ORLEANS WASN’T THE SAME WITHOUT THE JAZZ MUSIC RESOUNDING THROUGH THE FRENCH QUARTER.

“Doyoung,” you complained to the owner of the jazz club, “I was supposed to be the closing act! Why’d you close early?”

Being a flapper wasn’t easy work, but you enjoyed your job all the same. You were a natural at it; all you needed to do was bat your lashes to get all the wealthy men to empty their wallets. Qian Kun, the bartender, pointed out that you had a unique charm that drew people in, so it was expected that all eyes were on you during your performances. Of course, you put in your full effort; it was the least you could do to repay the owner.

Keep reading

[ziggymardust]

In honor of Across The Spider-Verse releasing last week & a new wave of Hobie Brown/Spider-Punk fans, here are some of @justinmasonart early designs (plus our 6-page mega spread from the final issue) for our Spider-Punk mini series that came out last April. Some characters changed pretty significantly from their first drafts (Mz Marvel & Daredevil), whiles others only had minor tweaks (Kraven & Riot Heart). Regardless, the amount of emails I sent to Justin that just said “this is sick!!!!” Is a lil embarrassing but what can ya do, just part of the creative process. Art by Justin Mason

Color by Jim Charalampidis

And check out the Official Spider-Punk Playlist if you’re looking for a nice intro to punk or a glimpse into what I was listening to while writing the book.

- Zig

[dropthedemiurge]

Some language comments for Gray Shelter [Episode 5], just like I promised!

"Do whatever/however you want to. (literally: 'Do it the way your heart desires') You do things how you want to anyway."

"I'm sorry" - the translation is correct, it's just it's funny how Yoondae's level of apology to his friend he just lashed out at last time + he wants to ask him for HELP, and all he says is: 미안 (mian). The most informal and short way of apologizing possible. He's so teenager-minded still.

Even when he asks "Can I leave my stuff in your dad's warehouse?" it comes out grammatically more of a demand, like 'Let me do that'. Yoondae is talking like someone who has a lot of walls and doesn't reach out to people, he doesn't talk kindly but he's honest and straightforward and he cries easily but he's very angry about it.

I especially love his facial expression, even when he's at his most miserable, he'll make it everyone else's problem, as if being pitiful is the worst thing that could happen to him. "I have no one else I could ask for help but you >:(("

Fun fact about Korean's sentence structure, when you quote someone or express your thoughts, you put your sentence this way: "quoted phrase" and then + "that's what they said/what i thought/etc". So oftentimes, I see Kdramas use that trick when characters say a phrase... and then take it back with "that's someone else's thoughts" or "that's what you thought I'd say, right? LMAO". It's funny how the translators' way of transferring this was using the word "Sike!" xD

"It wasn't a mistake to me." "If it wasn't a mistake, then [what]? Since you started talking [about it], let me ask you. So what if it wasn't a mistake? What do you want to achieve with me?" "Can I do anything about it? In the past or now, you're the one who runs away and avoids me. I asked you, can I make a decision (do I have any choices)?" "You made the move but you want me to decide? Fine, then. Let sleep together once and end it once and for all. Go wash up first. I don't have time, I only left office for a short time."

The way they both care about each other but their dialogues and words are very sharp and bitter almost all the time, especially here, aaaah. That's the contrast that hooked me for all these 5 episodes. Soohyuk doesn't swear but he's talking to Yoondae very harshly and emotionless here, and for Yoondae harsh talk is the default, it's like Soohyuk is lowering his manners to talk on his level, to provoke him (or maybe that's also how he distances himself from the discovery that Yoondae has feelings for him).

And Yoondae is holding back his frustration and tears, but he understands the way such words were aimed to hurt him, so instead of lashing out back at Soohyuk, as he probably wants him to, he swallows and unusually calmly, almost softly says: "Let's talk when you can be honest. Because I will shut up and wait for you."

And it makes Soohyuk stand there in shock and contemplate.

I'll add next scenes in READ MORE since this post is getting long!

Here's the moment when the boss asks their youngest employee to write something more 'trendy' for their marketing text xD It's very true that trends in Korea come and go very quickly, they also love to invent new terms and phrases all the time. Like "MZ slang", there are many phrases, and the one trendy phrase the boss uses as the example is 킹받네 (king-pad-nae) which literally written as 'receive the king' but means "I got angry" - but with a teasing/playful subtext, like friends could say each other 'ah you're so cute, it makes me angry'.

If I'm not wrong, this phrase was widely used like 1-2 years ago and not really in its trendy peak as well right now but kudos to boss to even learning it xD And it's funny how translator chose to (I assume) use "[living in my head] rent-free" phrase as a substitute. Another fun fact, they ended up using some trendy lingo in their ad that translator gave us as "no cap!" but that part of phone msg was so blurry, I couldn't see which exact Korean phrase they ended up using x)

"Hyung, if you have any ask for help, say so. For you, 2 million... No, I'll try to give you until 3 million won in any way."

Can I just say that we had this character for one moment and I'm so not ready to let him go, I want Jeongwan to have his own storyline and everything and he's too sweet and also caring for strangers/his colleagues, and so he stole the spotlight for me xD

Yoondae said there's no food at home. But also, as you can see, there is: beer, water, rice that you can cook in the microwave, kimchi for a side dish and some other microwaved food. According to my Korean friends, typical Korean person (poor like student) can survive if they have rice, kimchi and also ramyeon. That's their the most basic food. Just a fun fact. xD

Also he was on his third can of beer, and he already made a drunken longing call on the verge of tears to Soohyuk, lying about being hurt and bringing trouble just so he'd return home. "Is that okay with you?" - just shoot me, please. :')

"I called [the cleaning service/you] to tell you to stop it [sleeping outside of home]" "Let's have that dinner [that I promised you] today. Wait for me."

After days, Yoondae was ready to give up, he "tricked" Soohyuk to return home just so he could tell him he'll move out and stop pushing any talk. And then, Soohyuk brought up the dinner (the feelings) that he kept avoiding. No wonder Yoondae looked so struck and confused. It just gave him his hopes back (and viewers too, but we probably should've known better with this kind of series haha)

Interesting cultural context: they are getting samgyeopsal - grilled meat, chosen by Soohyuk because Yoongdae said there wasn't anything he wanted to eat. And usually, the youngest one has to set the cutlery and grill meat, out of respect for the seniors. And here we see that Soohyuk is the one choosing the place, menu and even grilling the meat and pouring soju for Yoondae.

Once again, it shows that despite Yoondae's emotions and pleads, he is not mature enough, he is not ready to focus on other people. We know he can't plan his own future, he doesn't know what to do, and we see where their relationship stands now - Yoondae is still more of a burden than an equal partner to Soohyuk, and Soohyuk is more of a parent.

Even when they drink soju (in Korean drinking etiquette usually you don't drink alone, you toast together and drink together), notice how they don't even clink their glasses together, then Soohyuk is the only one drinking and Yoondae wants to follow him but puts the glass back. He's taking a shot later, when Soohyuk grills the meat again. They are totally unsynchronized at this point of their lives, and it's painful to watch.

"I said he [my father] was dead because that's the truth/reality for me. There was no other [hidden] meaning. I didn't plan to lie to you."

"I moved out completely. If I don't organize my life starting from doing this, then I don't think I'll be able to live like all the other [normal] people."

The fact that Yoondae started thinking about improving his life (the word 'organizing'), immediately made Soohyuk stop in surprise. So he started asking what does the normal life like others mean to him, hopeful to find that equal adult footing from Yoondae... but Yoondae's thoughts stopped there. And Soohyuk offered his own goal and life meaning: "to have a place to go back to, that's enough for me".

Here's when Yoondae thoughtfully agreed with him: "It's important to have a home", and took the meat tongs from Soohyuk, saying how high-maintenance he is. Yoondae embraced that realization, he took the responsibility (even a small cultural gesture) and even though Yoondae nagged him, Soohyuk smirked. Because it wasn't a completely hopeless situation. And Yoondae proved it, by saying how eating like this and going home together is his normal life as well. (and yet they were still unsynchronized until the very end! we can't have happy ending yet)

AND HERE IS WHERE I HAVE TO MAKE A SECOND POST! Because tumblr only allows 30 images in one, and I can't stop screenshotting the last conversation so I'm going to make another post that you can find in 'gray shelter comments' or 'dropthemeta' tags (upd. or here's the link to the post!)^^

[gingerbravecookie]

devlog 1 - cursor and the horrors of game making. the agony and such of making a rewrite fangame

hello!! name's cursor/siffrin and i'm a poor loser making a fangame!! why did i commit to this i could have just made a fic but noooo i gotta pick up rpgmaker again

this devlog is made because. well. all devs do one ithink. also to write down my ocasional progress in this project!! this won't be monthly but whenever i have the time and got something to report yay. spare me from this hellhole

we begin 💥

ever since cookie run the darkest night got cancelled a few months ago and left us with only chapter 1 i did feel sad!! i liked the story!!! gingerbrave cool and fucking awesome moments. BUT!! because i am mentally ill,, i decided to rewrite the game myself and give it the ending it deserved to have!! will the ending be proper i dunno. i am still writing this stuff waugh. but hey it will have an ending at least

to gamedev stuff proper. i got rpgmaker mz around 2022 for the purpose of making a cr game still. an original one!! however after making a few stuff i left it in hiatus bc i had to focus on school (i still do. college is breathing on my neck dear lord). i still plan to continue that one but it will be after i'm done with this rewrite. in either way. i've been changing placeholder stuff for now,, such as menu icons and figuring out how to make the party have five members. also re learning how to use aseprite because i gotta make all sprites haha (breaks down)

i should remind folks that i am an artist/writer first and foremost. i will very likely go through pure trial and error while making and 'coding' all of this (why did i plan 14 chapters oh my godddd),, though i do have notes i took from the rpgmaker tutorial so i can refer to when i'm stuck whenever and hey!! forums are always a thing!! i wouldn't have figured how to have 5 party members if they weren't!!

to writing stuff. i've been planning the prologue and the locations of the first 3 chapters so far. as well as a vague idea of chapter 12 and the epilogue. with point A and point B set,, now i just gotta make the middle point. aka the rest of the game</3

the main party and a few relevant npcs and characters have already been set. as well as brainstoming stuff and showing said stuff to the gingerbrave council (personal friend server) for approval of sillyness. you guys are fucking awesome btw if you're reading this. also hi chat

mentally i've been setting a timeline of events. i plan to write these in a notebook so i can have them at anytime and not have to open my laptop whenever i get a cool idea. or dig through thousands of discord messages just to find an idea i wrote down in the moment. overall i believe writing (in comparison to art making and the game making process) will be the easier part for me. also i gotta decide for a proper name for the rewrite. naming it the same as the og is lame. i need something with more sauce. i'll figure it out. in the meantime. have this goober

i'm sure this should be it for this devlog!! hooray!! what have i gotten myself into!!!

in all seriousness i'm honestly pretty excited,, i really want to make this game work and for people to play it!! even if it might be a bit of a pain i really wanna finish this project so there's tgat

that's all. see you all in the next devlog whenever that might be 💥

[firelxdykatara]

I will never in a million years understand why so many atla fans are this invested in giving Bryke credit for all the hard work they put into fleshing out a relatively static and 2D character.

Like, all of that in the screenshot involves a lot of reading into things that are not remotely indicated in the text--which is fine! There's nothing wrong with this style of meta and it's so fun to put that work in when you really like a ship and want to make a few seconds do so much heavy lifting! But why credit the show with it when it was entirely your own invention? Own your hard work, guys! You've earned it!

^ Okay, who the hell animated Mai in that one scene in The Boiling Rock? Whoever it was deserves a raise. They managed to portray Mai's sense of dejection, an epiphany that Zuko's position is both honourable and achievable, a sudden disillusionment with the war effort, a newfound conviction to take a political (not just a personal) stand against Azula, her parents and Ozai all in the span of three seconds and without even changing her facial expression or having any lines of dialogue to work with!

The other writers/animators needed three whole seasons to depict Zuko's infamous redemption arc. Pathetic.

Whoever animated Mai could have probably spedrun the entire show in one episode. Woulda saved a ton of money in hiring voice actors storyboarders etc. Give 'em a pay rise, hell better give them an academy award, a beer, a statue in Republic City, a gobby, you name it dude. What a ripper c*** ❤️