#nearly 30 years on this earth i finally figured out that i gotta watch the animations to know how to dodge lol oops

[labwebs]

🕸i did wanna replay more of the game but uh reached one of the parts where it's just boss fights back to back so mmmmmmmmmm nvm

[darkpoisonouslove]

Sparks of Life Opera Edition

I am still not over Singing a New Tune so I am going to recap for you the experience of writing that fic because there were many interesting moments over the course of those three days. Lemme start from the beginning.

- So I’m writing a fic that mostly focuses on sexual stuff but it is also mainly happening in an opera so my first order of business is to figure out what that opera is. Both the building itself and the show they’ll be watching. Because that is of utmost importance.

- I have already mentioned that SoL is located in New York so I looked up New York operas. I do not vibe with research most of the time but I vibe even less with having to come up with names for any kind of thing so research was definitely the choice here.

- I somehow get results about operas that are in the other end of the USA. That was not great. I get to the Metropolitan Opera House at last (which I might have known existed if I cared about opera in any way, shape or form) which is great! I am so close to starting the fic! Just need to figure out what opera they’re watching. Because I need that for reasons.

- I end up downloading a PDF with the seatings inside the Met Opera so that I can figure out where the hell they will be seating. But I leave that for later. I look through the actual plays that they’re having while absolutely failing with the navigation of their site. I find a show that catches my eye. It’s called The Magic Flute. I have zero idea what it’s about so I read the Wikipedia summary just to be aware. It mentions that a character has a moment when he’s singing about his search for a wife and I think “Perfect! Foreshadowing!” (since this is set pretty early on in Griffin and Valtor’s relationship).

- I decide to look up the opera and see if I can find a part of it on youtube to figure out how it will sound. I am pretty sold on it already because of the summary I read and also because it implies there is magic as a subject in it which would call back to canon. Still, I look it up. I find a full version of it on the internet with English subtitles... It is 2 hours and 35 minutes:

- “Wow, okay... that’s a bit much. But hey, it has got subtitles in English. Maybe I’d actually watch that... once I’m done with the fic. I’m just gonna listen to a little bit while I finish my research, though, so I can have an idea of what it sounds like.”

- Now it’s time to open the engagement fic - Enough to Be Yours - because I don’t remember what year they got engaged in and I need that to reverse engineer the year in which this fic is taking place so that I can make sure that The Magic Flute was being performed back then. I don’t have an year stated in the engagement fic, though. I have a date - 9th October which is Friday and that means the year is 2015. Great! So I need to figure out if they were performing The Magic Flute back in 2010. Great.

- That takes a shit ton of time and nerves as it turns out. I spent over 4 hours just researching the logistics for this fic and a lot of that was unnecessary but I’m getting ahead of myself.

- I cannot find out whether they were performing the Magic Flute in 2010. I get results of it being broadcast in English (for the first time, I believe) in 2012 but that is way too late for this fic to be happening. Also, they are speaking of a broadcast which just doesn’t work for me. So I am having a hard time over here.

- I find a list of the new titles in 2011 but nothing mentions The Magic Flute as far as I can see.

- I am now considering switching to another opera. I see an opera that is based on events from The Song of the Nibelungs (I cannot be assed to go back and check what the actual title was). That catches my eye because I have read a book that was titled The Ring of the Nibelungs, I believe, and I kinda remember stuff from it... which is what makes me hesitate because that was a big tragedy.

- Meanwhile, I have stumbled upon a trailer for The Magic Flute:

MY GOD IS THAT BEAUTIFUL! THOSE PROPS ARE FUCKING GORGEOUS! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU GET TO GO AND SEE THAT LIVE? THAT IS NUTS! (Also, when I mentioned paper birds (I think they are) in the fic, I meant the ones shown in 0:13, not the big one in the beginning but HOLY SHIT, DID YOU SEE THAT THING????? HOW IS THAT REAL?!?!?!?! IT IS SO FUCKING AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I CAN’T. I AM DYING. THIS IS JUST TOO BEAUTIFUL.)

- I somehow happen upon an old archive of the opera (idk how I did that but I bookmarked it in case I’ll need it again) that has information about plays going back as far as the year 1900. This is nuts! I am in too deep but I can’t pull myself away. I’ve gotten this far, I will see it through.

- I search for keyword “flute” and I get results. Some of them are pretty old but I finally find what I need. Performances of the Magic Flute in 2010! Bingo!

-  ...Oh, wait, they’re all around Christmas and New Year’s Eve. Hmm... when will it be okay for them to go? I mean, Valtor has been established to have zero free time around that time of the year and I can’t see them going on the 24th or the 31st... Oh, those are matinees. Definitely no! I need them to go in the evening. And some of these are broadcasts which doesn’t work for me either.

- I looked up earlier years as well. I considered another opera again. I decided to switch up the timeline a little. It makes sense if it’s in 2009. I think they had spring performances of The Magic Flute then. Or was it 2008? Anyway, I finally settle on an early April date in 2009 (I think). Now that that’s settled, let’s go back to the seats.

- First I need to figure out what floor (let’s say) of the opera they’re on. I was thinking of the last one first (family circle) but the boxes (I figure those seats will be safest for their activities) look like this:

which isn’t vibing with me because they would be in the front row and it seems more visible. So I relocate to the previous floor (balcony) that looks like this:

That works a little better although there’s the danger of having more people in their box. But they’re sitting in box 14, seats 5 (Griffin) and 6 (Valtor) (where the arrow is pointing) and there’s only one man in seat 4 in front of them. So that is the best I can do.

- Wow, all that’s finally figured out. I decide to do all the rest of the research up front in order to be able to just write after that and not stop for another 4 hours. More on those other things later BUT I get to the part where I need to pick a vibrator and... well, I done fucked up.

- First thing that comes up for a remote controlled vibrator is Lush, of course. And I am immediately sold because it has a sound activated setting which Valtor will definitely love to utilize while in the opera.

BUT

Lush 2 (which is the first one to have the sound activated setting, I believe) came out in 2018. Even if we accept that Lush also has it, that came out in 2015. My fic is set in 2009. Searching for 2009 vibrators literally went no where so in the end I decided that the SoL verse is actually set in a parallel universe where time is a little warped so the Lush 2 is out in 2009. Plus, that way there isn’t going to be a pandemic in future installments. Overall, that works. Except that I needn’t have been so thorough with my opera research beforehand. Oh, well. It’s finally time to start writing.

- How do you write? How do you start a fic? One word in front of the other? Oh, okay, never mind. Lipstick is a girl’s best friend. Let’s start from there. And a kiss that leads to the discussion of lipstick... Damn, I forgot to spend one more hour on researching what kind of lipstick Griffin would have worn. Shame! You don’t get that detail now. I believe I didn’t even mention a shade.

- Oh, wait. Need for his breath to taste like something. Hmm, let’s see. Tonic water? Yeah, that sounds about right. Never mind that he should have probably drunk it right before getting out of the car to kiss her if it was still lingering on his breath. I mean, that’s not impossible. Just improbable.

- He’s also wearing cologne, right? Gotta research that too. How else would I get this:

and zero idea what it actually smells like despite the description. Also, did not check if that was a thing in 2009 but the story now exists in a vacuum so who cares.

- Apparently, Griffin doesn’t own any golden bracelets even though she does have a golden necklace? Or she could have a golden bracelet, just not one she likes for the current situation? Anyway, I wanted to mention Ediltrude as well because the twins always go together and that was the best I came up with. (That said, I didn’t need to put the mentions of them one sentence apart.)

- My god, I used a semicolon! That feels illegal. I sure hope I used that bitch correctly.

- Okay, I absolutely love all the banter and just flow in the car. Idk how I did that since it’s such a constricted space but I am really proud of it. However, the logistics were sometimes hard to logic my way through. I mean, Valtor doesn’t get to look at her a lot and I had to employ a red traffic light to give him the chance to do so.

- I hit a wall about three paragraphs later. Things started going in a weird direction. I was considering even deleting the last two lines but then I managed to get back on track thanks to having figured out how they met and I decided to write a little bit about that without spoiling it (that will be a fic of its own some day). Suffice it to say it was a meet-very-ugly. But it bailed me out. Also, they got over it so it’s all good.

- And now... that paragraph. You know which one I’m talking about. It stands out with the locations I’ve given. That paragraph required 30 minutes of looking at Google Earth to figure it out and I still nearly got it wrong. At that point it occurred to me that they’ll need a place to park. I mean, idk how parking is in NYC but it’s probably not the way it is in Bulgaria especially on small neighborhood streets where it’s just... park wherever (even in front of a garage if you’re brazen enough and don’t fear having your tires slashed). So first, I was going to have them coming down Tenth Avenue and passing by the backside of the Opera which is not ideal for me because I needed Griffin to figure out they’re going to the opera so that they can have the following dialogue. But there is the New York Public Library of the Performing Arts right next door so I figure Griffin will recognize the area if it’s next to a library. And I have them almost at the garage but... that’s not looking right. This garage is on 65th Street and mine is on 62nd... I have been looking at the wrong garage for the past hour. Now that I have caught that mistake, things get easier. They just drive right past the facade of the opera, take a right turn and then enter the garage. Easy peasy. For whoever’s actually paying attention to the map.

- They’re in the garage now and I have to write another kiss. Shoot! I do not vibe with writing kisses. Writing sex scenes is much easier. But I’ll try my best because this is a little bit necessary if we’re dealing with an insertion of a vibrator in a public bathroom one minute from now. (Again, logistics!) I actually went back to add in a little discomfort during the kiss (but not too much because they’re consumed with each other anyway and probably missed something) just to make it more realistic. They can’t be comfortable in the car. Also, you have got to love how I never even thought of what make the car is. But I did stop to research the tinting of the car windows.

- Now this is extremely funny but I would have had zero idea that there are different laws about how tinted your car windows can be in the USA if I hadn’t read a very extensive critique of Fifty Shades (whichever part it was that had that info). So I look up the VLT for New York and it says 70%. Great! Then it won’t be that visible through the windows what they’re doing inside. Oh, wait! VLT means Visible Light Transmission aka 70% of the light should be passing through the window. Aka it is only tinted on 30%. This much:

That’s practically nothing. You can see everything through it. Welp, then someone���s gonna see, I guess.

- Can’t believe I didn’t stop to look up clutches either. (Lmao, I was calling it a purse instead of a clutch at first even though I definitely meant a clutch. And then I remembered that clutch existed as a word. Who would’ve thought?) It’s baffling trying to figure out why my brain was prioritizing some details over others and I just genuinely have no idea what was going on.

- Griffin is blushing a lot in this. Can you tell I have no idea how else to convey Valtor giving her feelings through body language?

- I first envisioned the box being opened by the hair pin by turning it like a key. Only later did I realize that that wouldn’t be possible because the pin has two parts (whatever they’re called) and that would make turning it impossible unless all of the base fits into one hole in the lid of the box. So I had to adapt my vision to using the extensions at the ends of the hair pin like a hook that pulls the lid up once it’s clicked free. I have zero idea how that would be done but I’m sure it can be done. So yeah, anyway, the pin looks like this but with attachments at the ends to open the box:

- I might have gone a little overboard with Griffin’s reaction to having the vibrator inside her. I might have made her a bit too embarrassed but I still think that she simply wouldn’t appreciate someone knowing about what she considers a private experience (despite the very public setting).

- And I am being overly specific again with the seats but I worked for that information so you’re getting it against your will!

- Speaking of, that man in their box was pretty ignored throughout the fic. But then again Griffin wasn’t overflowing with lucidity. She is sure to have missed... A Lot, actually.

- My apologies (once again) to @her-majesty-wears-jeans​ for not letting Griffin punch Valtor in the face for the terrible pun he was about to make but I thought that that would ruin the mood so I had to skip it.

- I might have imagined things a little differently but then consent factored in and I had to change things up so that Griffin is clearly on board with everything. I hope it came through that way at least. She is on board even if she is very, very frustrated. She would never throw the bet just because it’s difficult for her. Though, I’m taking note for future fics of maybe being a little bit more explicit about the enjoyment of all parties involved. I just couldn’t really think of a way to convey it better back then and I am coming up with several ideas now and I will try to keep them in mind for future fics.

- I keep going back and forth on just how far into their relationship this is. Sometimes it feels like it’s not enough time for them to get this familiar with each other and sometimes it feels like too much for them to still be skirting their feelings for each other like that. Will update when I make up my mind about how long exactly it has been.

- In retrospect, probably should have picked up an opera that people would be less likely to bring their children to (as brought to my attention by @her-majesty-wears-jeans​). I apologize for this. Did not consider it at all.

- A wild tangent about Griffin’s sexual experiences before Valtor popped up (for the second time now). This is giving me thoughts and I am not even sure if I’ll manage to get them all out in the bachelorette party fic. Oh, no, I am getting ideas again.

- God, I had to mention those paper birds because I adore them. Also, needed to do a time skip somehow (sure hope they don’t show up at the very end or the very beginning).

- So there are some things about the whole thing with the suit jacket that if you squint, you’ll miss the very far-fetched and convoluted ways in which I could make them make sense but again, it isn’t impossible to make them operate according to logic so good enough.

- And now for the dress:

I thought it would be reasonable for Griffin to own something like that. It doesn’t look overly expensive or dramatic.

- I swear that most of the 2% angst was an accident. Griffin was supposed to say the “You paid how much for tickets exactly just so you could fool around?” line but the following few paragraphs sprang on me out of nowhere. That was where I left it off the first day I was working on it and I wasn’t sure how to continue it. Then the angst happened.

- I do not believe the retaliation part was planned but would it really be a Griffin x Valtor story if something like that hadn’t happened? XD

- “reverberated”, “multitudinous” and “unobtainable” are probably not words that Griffin’s muddled mind would go to in that precise moment but everything else I came up with for them just did not sound right.

- I completely forgot the word for neckline and was so mad at myself for that but, luckily, I managed to remember it before posting the fic. I believe the original read “he slipped a finger under the fabric of her dress, running it over the top of her breast” which is not incorrect but just not precise enough for my liking.

- Sure hope the shortened version of the opera did not cut out the ending musical sequence. But that seems unlikely.

- The idea was running overly long in my head by having them going back to the penthouse so that I could have the scene where he picked her up so I decided to move things around and have him carry her bridal style on their way from the opera to the car. It’s not like she didn’t earn it.

- Pretty sure I had planned something a little different for the last several lines of dialogue but I couldn’t remember what so we get this. Which isn’t a disadvantage. I mean, Griffin is already thinking of marrying him. XD (That’s probably a bit of a stretch at the current status of their relationship but then again, she was thinking of a wedding, not necessarily of their wedding even though I’m clearly a little romance gargoyle that meant exactly that.)

- Originally, Valtor was supposed to floor the brakes while they were out in the NYC traffic but then I decided that doing it while still in the garage with only one car behind them and both vehicles driving at a very slow speed was a lot safer so I switched to that. It also saved me writing more words which was appreciated. I thought this fic would be a bit shorter.

- I was at a loss for how many orgasms Griffin should want from him but then the commitment line happened and that was all avoided.

[spacesuitsforemergency]

Libraries

Word Count: 2.6k

Pairing: Strange! Fem! Reader x Danny Rand

A/N: based on the headcanons I posted awhile ago. also it has a shifty ending but you know how it be

Warnings: gets a little heated but nothing over pg-13, I swear. On god. Also Doctor Strange tries to give them “The Talk”

“Careful with that!” Danny yelped as you nearly hit him with the books. You had been working on perfecting a new list of spells Mordo had given you, and you were having a particular hard time with this telekinesis spell.

“Sorry.” You giggled as he walked farther back behind you. Some other sorcerers were working in the library, and would glance at the two of you every time you made any noise. So it was pretty often since both of you would laugh every time you messed up a spell.

“Y/N, focus.” Danny reminded over your shoulder.

“You know, telling me to focus just distracts me from focusing.” You mumbled as you tried to regain control over the heavy books you were levitating.

“Steady your hands.” He added.

“Danny!” You turned to snap at him for distracting you, instead making you completely loose focus.

You loose control of the books, and they fly across the room. You wince as the heavy books knock a whole shelf over, and it starts a domino effect. Danny watched with his jaw dropped as the shelves all tumble over, books scattering across the floor as they fell out. It stops with one last crash against the far wall.

Every single sorcerer and sorceress turned to glare at you, annoyance evident. You feel their stares but don’t look them in the eye, since they can all be really scary and intimidating when they needed to be.

“Sorry.” You smile nervously. That only seemed to make them glare harder, if that was even possible, at you.

“I think we should leave.” Danny whispered to you.

“I think so too.” You nod, and followed him out of the room. You two rushed outside, nearly knocking Wong clean over. Seriously, what was wrong with you today?

“What are you two up to now?” Wong asked, smoothing his robes out.

“Sorry, Wong.” You grin, grabbing Danny’s hand and sprinting away.

“You are in so much trouble!” Danny laughed as you both ran, scared to be caught by Wong once he figured out you had ruined half of his library.

“Don’t remind me!” You say as you two reach a temple, where your father was talking to Wiccan, a magic user your age who would visit once in awhile.

“Ms. Strange, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Wiccan greeted you. “Hello, Iron Fist.”

“Hey Wiccan.” You greet quickly.

“Y/N, what did you do?” Your father raised a suspicious eyebrow at you.

“What? Nothing.” You say, though it was obvious you had done something from your tone of voice.

“STRANGE!” You hear Wong scream from the library, which was only a few buildings down.

“Gotta go!” You shout, taking off down the street.

“Wait for me!” Danny scrambled after you.

You looked behind you and saw Wong racing after you, which was funny enough on its own, but you also saw your father shaking his head in disappointment, which was even funnier.

You and Danny ducked behind a building once you momentarily lost sight of Wong. You both stifled your laughs as he ran by, and he turned to say something.

He stopped when he realized how close he was to you, your bodies pressed against each other in the small alleyway. You stared into his emerald green eyes, admiring the sparkle of mischief that was so rare to see in the honorable warrior.

You both realize you’ve been staring at each other and look away, clearing your throat awkwardly. You poke your head out of the alleyway, not seeing Wong anywhere.

“Uh, coast is clear.” You tell Danny.

“Can’t you just use a sling ring and take us somewhere...where Wong isn’t after our heads?” He asks.

“Oh shit you’re right.” You dug into your pocket, sliding the ring onto your finger. You point and think of his room in K’un Lun. The portal opens, just as you hear a yell behind you.

“Run!” Danny yells, jumping through the portal as Wong charges at the both of you.

“Sorry Wong!” You shout again before following, and closing the portal just before Wong can get to you.

You pant, out of breath. You make eye contact with Danny, and you both burst into laughter. You fall onto his bed as he sits down like a normal person.

“You are in so much trouble when you get back.” He chuckles as you continue to die laughing.

“It’s not like I meant to knock over half of the library.” You giggle as you sit up. “Did you see my dads face? And Wong running? It was totally worth it.”

“Okay...I guess it was pretty hysterical.” He nods after awhile. “Still, he’s going to kill you.”

“Eh. He’ll probably just make me clean it up. I could just steal the Time Stone and fix it.” You shrug.

“Doesn’t your dad never let it out of his sight?”

“Please, he takes it off when he sleeps.” You scoff. “Besides, even then it’s not that hard of work.”

“If you say so.” He smiles.

You both catch yourself in a silence again, staring into each other’s eyes.

You’ve been best friends forever, ever since you and your father first visited K’un Lun back when some inter dimensional demon was threatening your existence again. He had been kind, polite, charming, and practically making you swoon over his stunning smile. The first time you hung out was at the K’un Lun library, and he taught you some meditation techniques to strengthen your focus while you were casting spells. Eventually one of you was hardly seen without the other. Whether it was studying, eating, drinking tea, working, or training, you would always do it together.

He’s been your best friend for almost 3 years now, was it a crime to develop feelings for him? You didn’t think so. And how could you not, he was an amazing person, and it didn’t help that he was really hot. Especially now, as you both couldn’t take your eyes off the other.

“Um...Y/N?” He says, just above a whisper. “May I, uh...may I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened, stunned that he asked you that. Sure, you’ve been flirting back and forth for the past couple weeks, but you didn’t think it was because he actually liked you.

“Sorry, sorry. Forget I said anything.” He looked away. “Sorry, I didn’t-“

You grab his face and crash your lips onto his. He’s stiff at first, but quickly melts into the kiss. You tangle your fingers in his sandy blonde hair as his arms wrap around your waist, your chests pressed against the others. You’re holding onto each other as if the other would disappear if you let go. Your kisses become more heated and passionate with each one, pent up feelings for each other over the years pouring out.

When you do finally pull apart to catch your breaths, you’re still holding each other and press your foreheads together. You breathe in the familiar scent of incense and green tea, trying to savor and soak in the moment.

“You know I’ve liked you ever since we met?” He whispers after a few seconds.

“You know I have too?” You smile as you pull away slightly, just enough to fully see his face, most likely chiseled by the gods themselves.

“I apologize if it is too soon to say this but...I love you, Y/N Strange.” He smiles sheepishly, a light blush spreading across his face.

“And I love you too, Daniel Rand.” You beam, overjoyed that he did indeed feel the same way you did. You just felt stupid that it took you two dorks 3 years to finally realize it.

He leans in and kisses you again, holding you close as he lays you down so he’s on top of you. You grab his hands and intertwine your fingers as you feel his tongue swipe across your bottom lip, and you part your lips to deepen the kiss.

“Ha! I knew you-! Oh.” Someone shouts as the door slams open.

You recognize the voice and shove Danny off of you, both of you whipping around to see a very stunned Wong in the doorway.

“Hey there, Wong.” You scratch the back of your neck as Danny quickly climbs off of you and catapults himself to the other side of the room. Both of your faces and necks turn bright crimson red the longer Wong stares.

“Well, um...I guess I owe Mordo and Scarlet Witch $25.” He finally states. 


“What?” You raise an eyebrow.

“We have a bet going.” He shrugs, before crossing his arms and his usual poker face returns. “So sorry to interrupt your little make out session, but I have 30 bookshelves knocked over and the books are all over the place.”

“Wong, I swear it was an accident.” You spit out. “I promise I’ll help clean it up.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t ask you to help with something that time consuming.” He says, dripping with sarcasm. “You’re cleaning it up by yourself.”

“Yes sir.” You sigh.

“Now, I expect it to be properly organized by tomorrow afternoon. Let’s go.” He motions for you to follow him.

You groan as you get up, dreading the hours of arranging the shelves you’d have to do. You slip the sling ring into Danny’s hand as you pass and whisper, “My room tonight.”

•

“Wong, have you seen Y/N anywhere?” Doctor Strange walked into the now neat and tidy Kamar Taj library that you had spent hours working on about a week ago. He had been looking for you, wanting to help you practice perfecting the telekinesis spell, which obviously didn’t go well the first time.

“I believe her and Daniel are tending to the Garden of P’an-T’ao.” Wong waved off the question, deeply concentrated on trying to win a Twitter roast against this talking raccoon. And this talking raccoon was quite brutal, to Wong’s surprise.

“Is it just me or have they been hanging out way more often lately?” He asks his friend.

“They always hang out.” Wong mumbled.

“Well yes, but they’re basically joint at the hip now.” Doctor Strange paced. “There’s something going on between them, I can feel it.”

Wong stayed silent, trying to think of ways to divert the doctors attention elsewhere. He had another bet going with Mordo and Scarlet Witch, Wiccan and Magik had joined in on this one, so he wanted the grand prize of $80. Now they were betting on how long it would take the Sorcerer Supreme, one of the smartest men on earth, to figure out that his daughter was now dating the Iron Fist, and Wong had bet the longest amount of time.

“They’re just gardening.” He shrugs once more.

“I suppose. But every day?”

“They’re probably just enjoying the last few weeks of summer left.” Wong quickly adds. Thank god you had complained about having to do homework again soon, or he wouldn’t have thought of that.

“...you’re probably right.” Strange nods finally.

“Oh, curse you, rodent!” Wong throws his phone down after reading the latest, and particularly nasty Tweet the raccoon had just posted.

“What on earth are you doing?” Strange picked up the phone and his eyes widen. “Oh wow. That’s clever.”

“Load of help you are.” Wong scoffed, still offended by the insults.

“Ha! This ones even funnier!”

•

You were definitely not gardening. First, because gardening was one of the worst things ever. Second, because you would much rather be spending time with your boyfriend. You cringed at yourself when you felt giddy just saying that, but you were in fact now dating Danny Rand.

You weren’t necessarily hiding it, but it was quite amusing that your father hadn’t yet cracked the case. He was a smart guy, but was apparently clueless about your personal life. Human interactions weren’t always his strong suit, to be fair.

You and Danny were just peacefully reading in your room, since you still needed to do more research for Mordo’s “tutoring” (which was really just him watching you make mistakes over and over until you learned how to fix them yourself), and Danny was always reading. You two were just nerds that way. So when your father burst into the room, neither of you were thoroughly impressed. I mean, it’s only taken 2 weeks for him to figure it out.

“You two are dating?!” He screeches at the both of you.

“Really?” You say sarcastically as you turn to your boyfriend. “Danny, why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve put my book down.”

“Now is not the time for your clever little jokes, young lady.” Your father snaps, offended when Danny snickers. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Gee, maybe it was because you’d react irrationally. My mistake, I should’ve known you’d be totally cool with it.” You say dryly.

“Plus, we weren’t exactly hiding it.” Danny added.

“Shut it, blondie.”

“Dad, don’t be rude.” You cross your arms.

“Well, now that I know you’re dating, I think we need to have a little discussion.” He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Oh God...” You groan, already knowing what’s coming.

“You’re too young to have sex, but if you’re going to do it-“

“Do it safely, responsibly and consensually.” You and Danny recite, already hearing this a million times from Wong and Mordo when they found out you were dating.

“...right.” Your dad narrowed his eyes at you. “So don’t forget to-“

“Use protection.” You both say,

“...um, yes. And make sure-“

“We both consent with an enthusiastic yes.”

Your dad stares at the both of you, apparently you had already heard this speech. He was your dad, he hadn’t given it to you before. He would have to have a little chat with the other sorcerers. But he sensed that you two weren’t taking him seriously, despite how maturely you were taking it.

“I’m just saying, you know how many girls your age I’ve seen giving birth at the hospital?”

“Dad, you were a surgeon, not an obstetrician.” You blink at him. “Besides, I don’t want children, I’ve mentioned this. That’s more than enough reason for me to uh...not do it.”

“Well then. This was a lovely chat. Carry on with your...reading.” He slowly exits your room, leaving the door open. Not that it really mattered, he stepped through a portal to the Kamar Taj library, leaving you two alone in the Sanctum.

Doctor Strange turned to Wong, hand on his hip and an eyebrow raised. Wong stared at him, freezing mid-bite of his food.

“So when were you going to alert me that my daughter was dating Daniel?” He taps his foot in annoyance.

“What? You weren’t supposed to find out till November!” Wong threw down his food. “Curse Wanda.”

“What?”

“What?”

“Anyways.” Strange shook his head as he joined his friend at the table. “I gave them a little chat. I think I really got through to them. We’re on a new found level of respect.”

•

“Now is not the time for your clever little jokes young lady.” Danny mocks your dad, and you double over in laughter.

“Can you believe him?” You wheeze. “Oh man, that made my year.”

“So are we ever going to tell him that we’re waiting till marriage?” He asks as he follows you through the Sanctum, on your guys’ way to the library.

“Nah.” You giggle as you intertwine your fingers. “I’ll let him stress.”

“You’re an evil daughter.” He chuckled.

“Hey, that’s what he gets for sitting and watching me put every single book away when I knocked them over.” You shrug, placing a kiss on his jaw.

“You’re the one who knocked them over with your clumsy ass.” He laughs as you open the door to the library.

“I am not clumsy!” You shout, slamming the door open. Turns out you slammed the door so hard, and your father rearranged the shelf placement, because the door knocked over a case of books. Then another, and another, and another...

“No you’re right, you’re graceful and elegant.”

“Run?” You wince as the last shelf makes a loud BOOM as it collides with the marble flooring.

“Run.” He simply nods.

[the-original-b]

Archangel: Snakebite

Format: Prose / Fiction, one-shot

Word Count: c. 1,800

Summary: An unknown figure executes strategic strikes against a local crime syndicate. 

Warnings: Blood, violence.

NY-27; Eastern Long Island.

“Hey,” the driver said to his passenger. “You still with me there, Benny?”

“Huh?” Benny took his absentminded stare from the moonlit trees past the window and turned in his seat toward the driver. “What was that? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I was saying you did good back there with the Senator.”

“Yeah…” the passenger slumped his shoulders and looked ahead. “Still doesn’t feel right.”

“Nobody said it would,” the driver said. “But you gotta do what you gotta do. Boss wants those documents, and it’s our job to get them.”

Before Benny could even voice his next thought, their attention was stolen by a loud pop under the hood of the car, and smoke began to billow out from under it. The engine stalled and the car began to slow as the driver fought to regain control.

Then, less than four seconds later, a high-velocity projectile passed through the windshield and entered the driver’s head, exiting out the back through the headrest and rear windshield as the vehicle crossed the median and rolled off the road into a tree.

Benny groggily opened his eyes, and the shadows that blended together began to take shape. They formed the image of a man clad in dark tactical gear with a short rifle in his hands walking up to the passenger-side door.

The man in tactical gear wore a mask to cover his face, gloves to cover his hands, and carried an anti-materiel rifle on his back with a few extra .50 BMG APIT rounds in addition to the custom weapon in his hands. It was a modernized lever action rifle with an AR-15-style barrel shroud to allow mounted accessories. He opened the chamber and loaded a single .45-70 round into the weapon, then closed the chamber, raised the rifle, and executed Benny with a well-placed shot.

The masked man peered into the window of the car, finding no other passengers but identifying a briefcase on the floor behind the driver’s seat. He made his way around to the back of the crashed car and smashed the window with the butt of his short rifle, then reached into the car to retrieve the briefcase and verify its contents. Once satisfied, he returned the case to where he found it, then pulled the pin on a military thermite grenade and tossed it into the vehicle, walking away as the car caught fire.

Downtown Jersey City, two days later.

“Here you go, boys,” the bartender said as she slid two beer bottles toward a pair of patrons. She reached under the bar and retrieved a pair of shot glasses, then filled them to the brim with whiskey before sliding them over as well. “These are on the house.”

“Thanks, Shelli,” one of the patrons said taking the shot glass and raising it in her direction. “You’re the best.”

Shelli shot him a wink as her full lips parted into a smile, her icy blue eyes lingering on the two of them from behind her square-frame glasses before she tuned to address the other man on the far side of the bar.

The patron downed his whiskey while he admired the sway of Shelli’s hips as she walked.

“Like you have a chance with her,” the other patron said, picking up his shot glass.

“Hey, there’s no harm in looking…” He raised his beer off the bar as he reestablished eye contact with his friend. “I’m sorry to hear about Benny, man.”

They brought their beverages together with a clink. “Yeah…” he downed his whiskey then reached for his beer. “The coroner says he was dead before the fire, gunshot to the cranium at point-blank range. Large caliber.” He took from the bottle. “He didn’t feel a thing.”

“Still, it’s a messed up way to go.”

“I can think of worse ways than getting executed by a professional…”

“You, uh…” he leaned in a little closer, quieting his tone. “You think it was that Archangel guy?”

“Hm?” He took the beer bottle away from his lips. “No, not his style. Besides, I heard he retired, and that it isn’t him we have to be scared of… it’s this new kid on the block. Nomad.”

Shelli shot a discreet glance over her shoulder at the mention of her alias.

“He showed up two or three years ago,” he continued. “Outta nowhere, started knocking off wiseguys left, right, and center. He’d do a favor for them every so often, but they’d probably end up dead within the week.”

“Right, I’ve heard some of the guys mention Nomad…”

“What did you hear?”

“Bunch of wild shit.” He took from his beer. “Some of the guys say Nomad cleaned house and allowed the boss to take over a bunch of the action here. Some of them say he used to work with Archangel, others say he killed him. And some even say he is actually a she; and freaking gorgeous too.”

“You believe any of that?”

“I don’t know what to believe, bro.” He took another sip of his beer. “Other than we’re screwed if even half of it is true.”

“I hear that…” he checked his cell phone then finished his beer. “Come on,” he said. “It’s half-past time, let’s roll.”

“Yep.” The other man took one last gulp from his beer and retrieved his wallet to leave a few bills on the bar to cover their drinks. “It’s all there, Shelli,” he said on his way out the door.

“Thanks guys,” she responded. “See you soon..!”

 ~~

After a thirty minute walk from the bar, the two patrons arrived at a warehouse on the pier. They were let in by their associates already assembling there as they perused over a vast collection of military-grade firearms and explosives.

One of them broke away to exit the building and light up a cigarette outside, and was interrupted by a length of wire thrown over his head and wrapped around his neck from behind.

The man with the wire in his hands wore a mask, and crossed his wrists behind his victim’s neck as he drove the ball of his foot into the back of his knee to bring him down. There he held the man until he stopped struggling and went limp.

When it was over, the masked man released his victim and entered the warehouse through the now-open door, dragging the lifeless remains of his victim into the warehouse with him.

The crew inside had successfully assembled a number of AR-15s, AKMs, and a .30 caliber M60 when the lights above them cut out.

“Jimmy,” one of them said. “Check the breaker.”

Jimmy broke off from the pack to make his way to the circuit board on the other side of the warehouse floor, behind some shelving. He was stopped a few yards from it by a knife to the back of his knee, and another one planted into the base of his neck immediately afterward.

Jimmy fell backward, looking up at the ceiling and clawing at his neck wound as he gasped in pain and watched as a man in a mask entered his field of vision and loomed over him. The masked man looked on silently as the man beneath him bled to death, slowly tilting his head a little as Jimmy’s actions became more lethargic and his eyelids shut.

Some time passed before anybody said anything. One of them broke away from the others in pursuit of Jimmy. “Jim,” he called out, “did you get lost on the way or something—?”

He nearly slipped on Jimmy’s blood on the floor, pooled around his exsanguinated body. In a panic, he returned to the rest of his associates.

“He’s dead!”

“What?” The dozen or so men and women in the warehouse atrium looked up from their work to pay more attention to the other man.

“I just saw him, somebody cut Jimmy open!”

“The hell are you talking about?”

In the chaos of the moment, the masked man crept around behind them toward the assembled weapons and picked up the machine gun, resting it against his right hip with one hand and holding the belt out with the other.

By the time the others turned to realize what was about to happen, it was far too late.

For one and a half seconds the warehouse was dead silent. Then the awful roar of the war machine in the masked man’s hands and wails of the men and women before him filled the space, creating a nightmarish hell on earth for the entire fifteen seconds the masked man held the trigger and the machine gun maintained its steady chug.

The room was nearly silent again after it was over and the monster weapon became dormant once more—only gossamer wisps of gun smoke, the smell of burnt propellant, and the man’s muffled expirations remained.

He returned the M60 to its case and retrieved his lever-action carbine from its holster on his back. He methodically stepped through the carnage toward one of them gasping on the ground for air as life left him. The masked man loaded a single bullet into the chamber of his gun, raised it, and pulled the trigger to finish him off. He slowly scanned the bodies for more movement, and when he found it he stalked toward the source, ejected the spent cartridge, loaded a fresh one, and fired.

He performed one last scan of the gore around him before returning his rifle to the holster and making his way toward the back of the warehouse to retrieve a gasoline can he planted there in the days prior. He toppled it over and let its contents spill out as he made his way back across the warehouse floor toward the exit. He stood by the door for a few seconds, then pulled the pin on a thermite grenade before lobbing it in the direction of the bodies and turned to exit the building.

 ~~~~

Now that the bar was finally empty, Shelli put the last of the glassware away then started to wipe the countertop with a fresh mop towel before her attention was stolen by a distant glow and subsequent boom.

The bar’s proprietor, seated at the far end reviewing the books, looked up from his glasses at the glow. He slowly took them off when he made sense of what happened. “Go home, Shelli,” he said.

She turned to face him. “Horace, I—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Horace said. “I can close up just fine on my own.”

Shelli held her hand on the towel for a while before walking away from the countertop. “…okay,” she conceded. She gently placed her hand on the small of his back as she walked past him toward the rear exit, where her belongings were. “Good night, Horace.”

“See you soon Shelli.”

He waited five minutes before getting up to check the back door. When he was sure she was gone, he returned to the bar to use the phone there.

He dialed a number and waited for the person on the other line to pick up. “Boss,” he said. “We’ve got a problem at the warehouse.”

(Masterlist)

[turtle-steverogers]

the good and the bad

hi i want bread

warnings: death uh, crying

editing: no

ship: ralbert

word count: like 2000 ish

September 23

Leaves crunched under Race’s shoes, the noise amplified by the accompanying silence.  It was warm still, the sun bleeding persistently through the trees, combated only by the few leaves that remained on the branches.  There wasn’t a clear path through the woods.  The thick underbrush made it nearly impossible to walk normally, but he persisted, trudging onward.

He wasn’t entirely sure where he was going.  He just needed to clear his head; get out of the house for a little while.  He was craving somewhere new and exotic, but his options were limited within his small hometown.

So he decided to expand his horizons within the confines of his little bubble.  Explore a little- find somewhere new and refreshing.

So when his legs carried him off of the sidewalk and into the expansive stretch of woods that surrounded his neighborhood, he resolved to trusting his instinct.  

It was a pleasant Fall day.  Entirely ideal for this sort of adventure and he smiled, feeling at ease in his afresh solitude.  The land sloped downward and the tangle of trees thinned out to reveal a small clearing.  

Yellow grass blanketed the flat land, countered only by the small clumps of flowers that were scattered at random.  The tree line seemed to create a perfect circle, sheltering the area from the outside world.  

Race had long since lost track of the sound of traffic and other clues to life, but he didn’t mind much.  He was getting what he came for.

He trailed along the edge of the clearing, coming to a halt in front of two trees.  He sat down, leaning his back against the trunk of the nearest tree and closing his eyes, allowing the sounds of nature to swallow him.

“Yo,” a voice sounded directly above him and his eyes flew open, his heart leaping into his chest as he froze.  Someone dropped out of the tree adjacent to him, sticking the landing heavily.

Race’s gaze traveled from the guy’s shoes to his face, taking note of the utterly obnoxious way he was dressed.  Despite his borderline fuckboy clothing, he was charming- attractive even.  The sun reflected flatteringly in his auburn hair and he seemed to have a permanent glint in his eyes.

The guy barked out a laugh, “Didn’t mean to scare you, sorry, but,” he raised his eyebrows, “did you just check me out?”

Race fought the smile that threatened to grow on his face, “Nah, bro, you just literally landed in my line of sight.”

The guy studied him for a moment before plopping down in front of him, crossing his legs and sticking out a hand, “‘Sup, bro, I’m Albert.”

Race allowed a small smirk to form as he took Albert’s hand, “Race.”

“Race,” Albert said, slowly, “exotic, I like it.”

“It’s not exotic,” Race countered, “It’s a nickname.”

“Even cooler,” Albert said, “So,” he leaned back, propping himself up on his forearms and stretching his legs in front of him, “what brings you to my woods?”

Race cocked his head, letting out an amused huff, “Your woods?”

“Hell yeah, man,” Albert said, throwing his head back and looking towards the sky, his hair falling behind him, “been coming to this place to catch my breath since I found it like a year ago.  No one else has ever come, so I called dibs on it.”

Race quirked an eyebrow, “How could you call dibs when no one else was around to challenge that.”

Albert furrowed his eyebrows and looked back at Race, “Uh,” he paused, “well you’re here now, so, dibs.”

September 24

“Welcome back.”

Race grinned up at Albert where he was standing on a branch right above his head.

“Couldn’t stay away?” Albert asked, sitting on the branch and reaching a hand out to help Race up.

Race floundered for a moment before settling beside Albert, dangling his legs towards the ground, “Guess I couldn’t,” he admitted, “S’nice here.”

“Sure is,” Albert said, turning to face Race and sitting back against the trunk, propping one leg on Race’s lap and letting the other swing back and forth, suspended in the air.

Race looked down at the leg on his lap, “Already on this level, huh?”

Albert laughed, lifting his leg and poking Race in the chin with his shoe.  Race yelped rearing backwards slightly and nearly losing balance.  Albert’s eyes widened and he sat up hastily, grabbing Race’s bicep before he could fall completely.

“Whoop, sorry about that,” he said, sincerely.

“You’re good,” Race said, gripping Albert’s hand to steady himself, “I’m good.”

The silence they fell into was oddly comfortable.  Although Race hadn’t known Albert for very long, but something about him felt familiar- reassuring- and as they sat in the tree, watching the sky turn from dull blue to orange, he couldn’t help but feel as if something had led him here.  A pull stronger than curiosity.

October 14

“You okay?”

Albert wasn’t in the tree when Race showed up.  Instead he was sat on the grass, knees bent in front of him.  His eyes looked oddly devoid of their usual glint and Race frowned, worry spreading through his chest.  He didn’t give any hint as to whether he’d heard Race or not and Race could see his fingers twitching as he fiddled with his watchband.

“What’s up?” he asked gently as he sat next to Albert.

Albert’s eyes flicked towards him for a moment, the only acknowledgement he’d made to his presence so far.  He didn’t answer the question directly, his shoulders shrugging somewhat uncomfortably as he spoke.

“M’not gonna be good company right now, you don’t gotta stick around.”

Race grimaced, “We don’t gotta talk about it, but I’ma stay, dude.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause I like it here, too,” Race said, “And I care about you, I don’t want you to be alone.”

Albert nodded, lowering his chin to his knees, “Thanks,” he mumbled.

“Anytime.”

The breeze around them picked up, and Race clenched his teeth to keep them from chattering.  He scooted towards Albert slightly, hoping he’d take the invitation.  To Race’s surprise, he did, tucking his head onto his shoulder and shifting closer as well.  It wasn’t much, but it provided some shield against the wind.

“We should bring a blanket out here or something,” Albert stated, “It’s getting too fucking cold.”

“It’s not that cold,” Race pointed out, “Only, like, 50 something degrees.”

“Too cold,” Albert pouted.

Race laughed, shrugging the shoulder Albert was leaning against, “Alright, buddy.”

Their breaths synced, an even rhythm echoing between them.  Race closed his eyes, allowing tranquility to envelope him.  He wasn’t sure how long they sat there, but neither of them seemed to want to move.

“My little brother is sick again,” Albert spoke softly, “And he’ll be fine, I hope, but shit in my house always gets really hectic when he gets flare ups and I just,” he sighed, moving almost impossibly closer to Race, “I wish it didn’t have to be like that.”

Race nodded, placing his hand over Albert’s and rubbing his thumb across his knuckles soothingly, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks,” Albert said, trailing off for a moment before continuing, “It hurts seeing Elijah like that and I know it hurts my dad and Thomas, too.  I wish we could all just be happy and healthy.”

“You will be one day,” Race tried to console him, “One day, Elijah’s gonna beat this shit and you’ll all live long, happy, healthy lives together.”

“I hope so.”

October 31

“Broughtcha some candy, dumbass.”

Race had gotten there before Albert that day, opting to arrive early and set up the mini blanket fort under the tree they’d been plotting for ages while Albert took his brothers trick or treating.

He peeked his head out from the blanket that draped down from the lowest branch, acting as a door.  Albert was staring at the fort with wide eyes, pillowcase full of candy in hand.

“This is sick,” he breathed, snapping out of his reverie and joining Race inside.  

He’d opted out of adding a roof, content with peering upwards past the treetops where faint, twinkling stars could be seen.

“I know, I slaved on it for hours for you,” Race teased, plucking a snickers bar out of the bag and popping it in his mouth.  

“Fake,” Albert said, smiling at him.

“You’re right,” Race said through a mouthful of chocolate, “Took me like fifteen minutes.”

They laid back on the comforter that Race had laid out as the floor, pulling another blanket over themselves as they settled in.  They curled into each other, fitting together like a puzzle piece.  It felt natural, the way they melded into one another so seamlessly, a silent understanding ingrained into their souls.  

Race rested his head on Albert’s chest rolling over enough so he could still see upwards.  He could feel Albert’s heart beating beneath him.  The steady pulse grounding him and pulling him further into the earth, cementing warmth into his stomach.

He lifted his head, rolling onto his stomach and propping himself up onto one elbow.  Albert looked down at him, a silent question in his eyes.  He opened his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it, eyes flicking almost inconspicuously down to Race’s mouth.

Race leaned forward, eyes falling closed as he pressed his lips to Albert’s.  They let out simultaneous sighs, the final knot tied as they deepened the kiss.  

Neither of them pulled back for a while, losing themselves in each other.  Eventually, Race leaned away, keeping his eyes closed as he felt a smile stretch across his face.

A hand brushed his face and he opened his eyes, seeing Albert looking back at him with an awed expression.

“I love you.” Albert’s voice was a faint whisper, the words reserving themselves for only Race.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back.

November 11

Race sat and waited in the clearing, hours upon hours passing with no Albert.  Figuring he must have just been busy, Race left.

November 20

Once again, Race was left alone in the clearing.  This time, a sick feeling in his gut growing more intense as the minutes passed.  He hadn’t heard from Albert in days.  Something wasn’t right.

November 30

A month since the kiss.  Three weeks since he’d last seen Albert.  No sign from him.  No explanation.  Nothing.  

Race sat numb, back against the same tree as he stared at the sky, wishing for answers it couldn’t provide.

December 3

It was officially cold.  The real definition, not Albert’s, and as Race trekked towards where he’d discovered the other boy lived, he couldn’t stop his body from shaking.

Partly from nerves, mostly from the biting wind.

He knocked at the door, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waited.  A boy, no older than 13 answered, staring at him with quizzical eyes.

“Yes?”

“Uh, hi,” Race swallowed, the realization that he had no idea what he was going to say hitting him like a truck, “I’m a friend of Albert’s, are you Elijah?”

The boy shook his head, “Nah, Thomas.”

“Right, sorry,” Race said, “uh, nice to meet you, is Al home?”

Something in the boy’s face changed and his eyes grew cold as he answered, “He’s not here anymore.”

The world seemed to muffle and Race shook his head, confused, “What do you mean?”

The boy blew a breath out through his nose and he looked to the side, “I mean,” he looked back at Race, eyes glistening, “He’s not here anymore.  Freak football accident.  You’re his friend, didn’t you hear about it?”

But Race couldn’t hear anything anymore.  He distantly heard himself thank Thomas and turned away before the door closed.  The world was spinning as he walked.  He couldn’t hear his footsteps, or the sounds of the street, or his own thoughts as he walked on autopilot to the place he’d grown so used to visiting.

The clearing seemed darker than it had been before, less welcoming and entirely unfamiliar.

The blanket fort was still up.  He hadn’t bothered to take it down.  Besides, Albert and him had planned to use it more.  One of the blankets blew in the wind, falling unceremoniously from the tree.  

It seemed to wilt along with the rest of the place.  Even the trees had lost their charm.

Race became acutely aware of the tears that stained his cheeks.  He only just remembered to breathe as sobs forced their way out of his stomach in painful waves.  

He didn’t remember walking to the fort, or taking down the blankets, attempting to fold them nicely, but giving up halfway through and discarding them with an angry shout.

He wished he’d never come here.  He wished that he’d stayed painfully oblivious to the beautiful clearing and the beautiful boy it had brought with it.

But he was cursed with the fate of meeting Albert.  Cursed with the fate of falling in love with him.

Doomed with the fate of losing him.

He sat down heavily on one of the blankets, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.  Eventually he stood back up, crossing to their tree and clambering onto their branch.  He struggled to stay balanced.  Albert was usually there to help him stay on.

As his tears ebbed away, leaving him empty and hopeless, the life of the forest seemed to rush back to him.

Animals were still traipsing.  Wind was still blowing through the trees.  Life was still going.

But he was gone without him.

-

maybe i should write some Not Angst next, thoughts?

thanks for reading, chiefs

hmu to be added to my tag

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[arielmagicesi]

often when a series ends and especially when there is such a show-stopping ending, before I can analyze how I feel, I have to first list everything that actually happened. Now I don’t know if Steven Universe is actually over but I just. what the fuck that was too much I didn’t have time to react before getting slapped with something else

spoilers below obviously

I was tempted to start listing from the point of “Gem Drill” because I’ve heard that only a year has passed since then and I mean, what a fucking wild year for poor Steven. I’m also tempted to start listing from “A Single Pale Rose” because shit moved FAST starting from there. But I’m just gonna list everything that happened in “Change Your Mind.”

It’s kind of what makes me suspect that this is the final episode of the entire series, because although plot pacing has been accelerating throughout the entire series (going from “Steven learns how to bubble” taking 10 episodes, to “diamond showdown” being a minor subplot of 1) and although the plot pacing went super-speed for this whole diamond arc, this episode shoved EVERY LAST THING IN.

stuff that could’ve waited (Lars and Sadie’s reunion) and stuff that should’ve taken vastly longer if it even should’ve happened at all (White Diamond’s lightning-speed reformation) was all put into one episode. now, it was deftly combined, and I liked almost every individual part, and there was some possibly-unintended comedy to it all (”she’s GOOOOONE!!!!” and White Diamond demonstrating the big ship’s pussy-out look, etc) but holy hell I would have loved for it to have gone at a slower pace so that they could have explored some of the stuff.

[also, my ability to react to things is lessened. meeting Sunstone would’ve been, I’m not joking, the highlight of my week just two years ago. now it wasn’t even the coolest of the fusions we met, and meeting the fusions was an incredibly minor point in the episode. also i have other things in my life now lol]

obviously, part of this pacing is due to the airing schedule of the show. on a normal airing schedule, I’d feel emotionally exhausted- this would have been, what, a month after the Pink-Diamond-is-Rose-Quartz reveal? but because this show airs in the dumbest way possible, we have like five hundred years between plot points. however, Steven did not? Pearl did not? Garnet did not? CONNIE did not? how the fuck are they getting along?

secondly, this was all in one episode, so yeah holy shit, some whiplash occurring for this here viewer

(one final note: I now take back getting annoyed that we got Watermelon Moana last week because it was so gentle compared to this)

anyway, my promised list of Crazy Shit that happened in one 40-minute episode:

1. Steven gets a flashback that tells him about a previous transgression of Pink’s, where we meet some other aliens. pointing to an old rebellion?

2. we see another Steven identity crisis with him flashing through Steven-Pink-Rose

3. Steven convinces Blue Diamond that she’s abusive and she immediately realizes the error of her ways and decides to help him and Connie out. (also, Connie talks to Diamonds a lot, I love her. damn girl)

4. we retrieve the bubbled Crystal Gems

5. Yellow and Blue have a big public diamond showdown

6. we discover that Yellow Diamond has emotions and tears, and feels pressured. shocking. if only the planets she’d colonized had thought to sit her down and chat

7. Yellow decides to join Steven’s side as well

8. they make a plan to escape via the leg-ship

9. White Diamond decides to show up and do her Creepy Act and she lands her big torso on the legs (confirming the obvious theory that the ships act as one big body)

10. Diamond Showdown Part 2, where Yellow and Blue attempt to fight White

11. Bismuth, Lapis, and Peridot return. We see Lapis and Peridot’s new forms.

12. Bismuth has fixed the arm ships and upper-cuts an upper-crust for the first time in her life in a really cool way.

13. Steven manages to say words to White Diamond, and so do Yellow and Blue.

14. White Diamond GREY-IFIES BLUE AND YELLOW DIAMOND

15. which also means we find out exactly what the fuck is wrong with White Pearl (also may I say, this is something I wrote about in my fic, accessible on my AO3, linked in my About)

16. Steven falls dramatically with the gems of his friends in his arms

17. Steven finds out he can (and decides to) retrieve gems from their gems by fusing with them

18. We see Smoky Quartz form mid-air

19. We see Amethyst’s new form

20. Steven fuses with Pearl for the first time ever, and we see Rainbow Quartz 2.0 for the first time

21. We see Pearl’s new form

22. We see what a pink diamond/rose quartz forms with a garnet for the very first time

23. Steven’s own first fusion with Garnet

24. Sunstone attempts to start shit with the giant robot

25. We see Garnet’s new form

26. Bismuth presents the replacement for the Sword of Rose Quartz, as a gift to Connie

27. We see the full-blown temple fusion for the very first time ever

28. Steven has his first fusion with all the Crystal Gems

29. We meet Obsidian and she succeeds in starting shit with the giant robot

30. We see Bismuth, Peridot, Lapis, and Connie all contribute to the fight and survive horrifyingly dangerous scenarios. (still gotta wonder what the HELL Connie’s mom was thinking... she went from not letting her kid watch inaccurate TV shows to letting her nearly die countless times in outer space at the hands of alien dictator robots)

31. let me just add, I <3 Connie and she deserves the world. bravest kid in the universe

32. the Crystal Gems find a way to invade the robot

33. the four main Crystal Gems face up against White Diamond herself and her grey-ified pearl and grey-ified fellow diamonds

34. White reveals a bit to us via villain-monologue that we probably could’ve guessed already: she wants every gem to be flawless, to be identical to her essentially yet subservient- which she considers to be synonymous with flawlessness- and her theory about the way the colors of the diamonds informs their personalities. Including that Pink is part of White, despite White’s dislike of this fact.

35. White grey-ifies the Crystal Gems

36. Connie arrives, also fully ready to fight this bitch

37. the grey-ified Crystal Gems restrain Steven and Connie

38. Steven gets to have that full-fledged conversation he wanted with White, I guess

39. BIGGEST ACTUAL REVEAL OF THE EPISODE: We find out what happens when Steven’s gem is removed from his stomach!!! that’s been a question since episode ONE I think

40. we get to see a Pink Steven and a Human Steven, which is pretty cool. I compare it to what might happen if you got split into What You Got From Your Dad and What You Got From Your Mom

41. this is just my theory, but we find out, I think, that Steven’s general strength in everyday movement comes from diamond strength and that he turns weaker than a baby without it, which makes sense because he’s always had it

42. White Diamond attempts to grey-ify Pink

43. we find out, as Pink Steven so eloquently says, that Pink Diamond/Rose Quartz really, really is gone. she died in childbirth essentially. I think he might someday manage to access her full memories but I don’t think that persona is ever returning

44. we see what Steven’s bubbles/shield would look like in full diamond form

45. the badass scene of Connie CARRYING STEVEN TO HIMSELF?

46. we discover that either Steven is the most special boy ever, or White’s powers are no match for love or some shit

47. we get to see Steven...  fuse with himself?

48. everyone gets un-greyified. Including White Pearl. the white-pearl-is-old-pink-pearl theory is confirmed, though I think it may have been in a flashback in “Familiar” and hinted at during Steven’s flashback at the start of the episode when Blue said “she’ll take away your pearl”

49. we see Steven/Pink’s full empathy powers in play, I think? that’s what happened when he pink-ified the whole group? INCLUDING WHITE?

50. Steven gives White Diamond one of his lightning-round therapy sessions, and she decides to Be Nice Now, Actually

51. that’s right. THERE ARE NO VILLAINS I’M GONNA LOSE MY MIND

52. the ENTIRE GROUP GOES TO EARTH

53. meaning that White leaves Homeworld (and “her own head”) for the first time in eons, according to the other Diamonds anyway

54. we get to see Sadie and the Cool Kids’ new looks. minor I know, but Jenny looks great in a suit!

55. also minor but cool: they’re covering “Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart”

56. for the second time in like 2 weeks, Diamond Ships interrupt a townwide Beach City gathering

57. we find out that Beach City is full of fucking idiots who thought that the ship was like, a grand finale to the concert? instead of full-on panicking mayhaps? cause every time this shit happens it usually leads to mayhem?

58. the Off-Colors, coincidentally, finally arrive on Earth at the exact same time

59. Lars meets Lion for the first time as Pink Zombie Brothers

60. Lars and Sadie reunion, in which we also find out that Sadie is like a legendary figure for the Off Colors

61. THE OFF COLORS MEET THE FUCKING DIAMONDS

62. Greg and Steven reunite

63. The Diamonds meet and finally heal the Centipeedles

64. The Diamonds visit Rose’s fountain and get it working as a four-diamond extravaganza event

65. every gem from the temple is brought there to be healed. we see the healing of, I assume, p much every monster we’ve met

66. we get to see the Heaven and Earth Beetle, who are pebbles too, and lesbians!

67. callback to the memories of the four Diamonds having swimming pool time

68. Jasper gets healed and naturally tries to destroy Steven immediately, then looks up to see all three of her diamonds. She and Amethyst get to bond, I guess.

69. Callback to the intro itself with the “We Are the Crystal Gems” song and all the new Crystal Gems chilling on the beach

70. New song, “Change Your Mind” and it’s cute obviously

My feelings on the episode? So besides what I wrote above the list, re: whiplash, I think that from a realistic standpoint and a writing-fantasy standpoint, it is some wild shit. For all three diamonds to achieve a FULL redemption arc in one episode? Too much. For there to be NO villains? Come on. And for the lesson to be, we should just give heartless dictators love and they’ll grow hearts? Worrying.

However, as I reached the end of the episode, I thought about a time in high school when my teacher asked me which superpower I’d want, and then annoyed the class by seeming morally superior by saying he’d want to speak every language. Thinking on it later, I thought- I’d want more than every language. I’d want the ability to TRULY understand others, and to make them TRULY understand me- and each other. Because yes, OF COURSE every conflict can be boiled down to a lack of understanding, a lack of empathy. If we had superhuman empathy on our side, we really could do away with violence. But in the real world, we don’t have superhuman empathy, we just have regular empathy, and some don’t even try to use that. So saying “have a little empathy for your oppressors” is ghoulish.

But Steven DOES have superhuman empathy. In fact, all the Diamonds do. Blue can make others cry, White can make others be identical to her, and Yellow can give others fear and command. And they use it only for evil. But Pink can make others understand. And she had only used it for frivolous things until she finally combined with a non-gem life form. Then, human empathy met superhuman empathy, and did what it had to do. THAT is how Steven defeated the Diamond Reign of Terror.

That being said: I don’t know if the target audience of kids really caught that nuance, considering that the episode went so fucking fast. Additionally: some of that superhuman empathy could’ve been pointed at the legions of crushed, oppressed little gems- which I know it was- but the focus was SO intensely on, like, “poor Yellow never got enough credit for being SO good at imperialism!”

So yeah. Both writing-wise, pacing-wise, plot-wise, message-wise... I did love it, as I do the whole show, but I also thought it could’ve benefited from some space, some criticism, and some better organization down at Cartoon Network’s scheduling department.

Art-wise, well I’m not an animation expert, but Obsidian can get it <3 and I loved the designs for everything.

Character-wise... I’ll have to think on it more.

OK THE END I’M DONE REACTING TO STEVEN UNIVERSE. SHOW’S OVER

[pixelgrotto]

D&D With My Bro: The Case of the Almost Assassination

For the last four months, my brother and I have been playing a Dungeons & Dragons campaign that I whipped up called The Case of the Almost Assassination, and we came to a triumphant finale the other night. My bro’s called it a “steampunk mystery set in a fantasy world,” which is a good description, but on a more detailed level, the campaign was also heavily influenced by the Ace Attorney and Professor Layton games and exists in the universe of The Thirteenth Hour, a series of fantasy stories self-published by my brother that are inspired by 80s movies and cartoons. So the whole thing is one huge ball of fun nerdiness, and figuring that it might be cool to chronicle the campaign as we played, I captured each of our sessions on video. You can watch the whole thing on YouTube here in convenient playlist format (listening to it in the background like a podcast is also pretty nice, I gotta say), and there’s over 20 hours there, which is longer than some of the video games I’ve blogged about! 

This wasn’t the first time that my brother and I had played D&D, since I’d previously introduced the game to him via a small four hour mini-campaign last time I visited his house. (He’s written some great thoughts on that adventure, as well as the experience of missing out on D&D in his childhood but getting the chance to discover it as an adult here.) But this was certainly the first time we’d played something long that continued from week to week, and it was also the first time we’d used virtual tabletop software - in this case the very useful Roll 20 - to play online. Minus a few minor internet hiccups, it ran smoothly, and I think both of us had a great time. The experience also made me ruminate on three interesting facts about D&D that I think not enough people write about, and I’m going to jot off a few thoughts on them here. Without further ado...

1) It is perfectly possible, and sometimes even more fun, to play D&D with just one other person. 

Normally, Dungeons & Dragons conjures up images of a bunch of people - usually three or four at minimum - sitting at a table listening to instructions given to them by the Dungeon/Game Master, or DM. But the hardest part of D&D isn’t juggling rules or even fighting Challenge Rating 30 monsters - it’s getting a group of three or four people to meet up together on a consistent basis! This is why you can tell that anyone who still thinks of D&D as an activity for anti-social basement dwellers hasn’t actually played it, because in truth, the game is a demanding social commitment, especially for adults.

Thankfully, while it might be a less common way to play, you can totally enjoy D&D with just two people. Usually this means that someone more familiar with the rules has to be the DM while the other person acts as the player, which is what my brother and I did. Sometimes, the DM will also have to create a player character for themselves, and I did that in order to assist my bro with various battles and tricky scenes. This is more work for the DM, since they’ll have to juggle both their own character as well as the various non-playable characters (NPCs) encountered in the story, but if you’re up for it, it’s a rewarding exercise.

The best thing about playing D&D with just one DM and one player is how efficient it is. Three or four player D&D (to say nothing of five, six, or even more players) can get slowed down by arguments about how to progress or share loot, not to mention downtime in battles when a player who has a bazillion spells at his disposal deliberates on the one he wants to use that will both do the most damage and look the coolest. Don’t get me wrong, I actually love these sorts of interactions, but it’s also nice to strip all that fat away. 

When it’s just one player and the DM, the DM also has the chance to make that player feel pivotally important by basing the story around them. Usually, the “unit” of D&D is the adventuring party, but in a one person + one DM game, the player gets to shine as the main character. Thus, it’s a good idea to choose the sort of story that can emphasize the important actions of an individual, and in my opinion the best ones for this are heavy on role-playing and character interaction rather than dungeon crawling and monster slaying. For example, a rogue adventure in an urban environment might fit the bill...or maybe even a mystery. Which leads me to my second point...

2) If you’re a DM making a homebrew campaign, try utilizing a setting that your players are already familiar with.

When my brother initially agreed to play a long campaign with me, I first thought that we might attempt one of the many published Forgotten Realms adventures that have been released for 5th Edition D&D. But then I realized that while my brother is mildly familiar with the Forgotten Realms, thanks to old comics and fantasy art from the 80s and 90s, he’s much more familiar with the setting that he created for his own fantasy novel, The Thirteenth Hour. My bro originally wrote this book when he was a high school kid and finally published it a few years ago, and in the time since, he’s written some short spin-offs and outlined ideas for a sequel. In the mini-campaign we’d played in October, his character was actually a half-elf ranger named the Wayfarer who’ll play a pivotal role in book two, and I initially pitched the whole idea of D&D to him as “Hey, this can help you brainstorm your sequel concepts before you put them down to paper.” 

Once I began toying with the idea of making a homebrew campaign set in The Thirteenth Hour world, I started worrying that my brother’s universe was limited when compared to the “fantasy kitchen sink” setting of the Forgotten Realms. I mean, my bro’s book didn’t even have orcs! Or dwarves! What was I gonna do! But then I stopped being reliant on fantasy tropes and actually re-read The Thirteenth Hour, quickly finding that there was plenty I could work with.The universe that my brother created doesn’t have all of the races that Tolkien coined, but it’s still full of magic and wonder - a place where crafty old wizards inspired by The Last Starfighter’s Centauri run amok, strange technological anomalies like hover boards occasionally pop up and an otherworldly gatekeeper known as the Dreamweaver lets the spirits of the deceased visit their loved ones in dreams. And there’s also a large kingdom called Tartec ruled over by a vaguely Trump-esque king named Darian, who thinks he’s found the elixir of immortality when actually all he’s discovered is coffee. (If you think this sounds amusing, you can pick up a digital copy of my bro’s book on Amazon for less than a cup of Starbucks!)

Darian’s a funny character, and in one of the spin-off short stories that my brother wrote, an older and slightly wiser version of him reflects on how an assassin nearly took his head off with a dagger. This one sentence got me thinking who that assassin might be, and before I knew it I’d come up with the basic hook of a campaign. At the time, I was also reading Xanathar’s Guide to Everything, a D&D book that introduces 5th Edition’s Inquisitive subclass, which is basically a fantasy Sherlock Holmes. Suddenly, the ideas began bubbling in my head - the campaign would be a detective story set in Tartec with two leads trying to determine the identity of King Darian’s would-be assassins. Once I had this hook, I decided to draw further inspiration from the two video game series I think of when I hear the word “detective” - the Professor Layton games (which I like the style of but am rubbish at, since puzzles confound me) and the Ace Attorney series, which I’ve written about before. My brother would be the main character Lester LeFoe (patterned slightly after Phoenix Wright, the star of Ace Attorney), and I’d be the spunky female assistant Claudia Copperhoof (a little similar to Phoenix’s assistant Maya Fey). 

I hoped that situating these characters in my brother’s world would breed a quicker sense of familiarity than he’d get from playing a generic warrior in the Forgotten Realms, and I think it’s safe to say that the experiment succeeded. Thus, even though 5th Edition D&D products all use the Realms as their default setting, it’s worth remembering that you don’t have to follow this lead, and can always tailor your campaign to a world that your players are already familiar with. In my brother’s case, he’s a writer who made his own world, but for someone else this can easily be Middle-Earth or the Hyborian Age of Robert E. Howard’s Conan books. The D&D Player’s Handbook and Dungeon Master’s Guide actively encourage modifying published adventures to appeal to your players’ favorite settings, in fact, and not only will this potentially help to decrease the amount of lore you need to explain as a Dungeon Master, but it’ll also help keep the attention of everybody listening to you. Because who wouldn’t want to insert themselves into their favorite bit of genre fiction as a legendary figure? In many ways, the whole point of D&D is to give people a framework to do that!

3) If you’re DMing for someone who doesn’t have much time to play, remember that a linear campaign is not necessarily a bad thing, and simplify the more complicated rules - making stuff up whenever necessary!

On page six of the 5th Edition Dungeon Master’s Guide, there’s a whole section entitled “Know Your Players,” which is all about altering your game to appeal to the personalities at your table. If you’re DMing for people who like acting and appreciate in-depth stories, give them plenty of role-playing opportunities and narrative twists, for instance, and if you’re dealing with folks who’d rather just make their characters look cool, try having them fight lots of monsters who reward snazzy armor and weapons. 

There should really be a sub-section there entitled “How to run a game for players who are low on time.” Because that’s my brother in a nutshell. He’s a late 30s dude who works a demanding job and has two small children to take care of, one of whom is barely half a year old. (You can hear my nephew gurgling in the background in a few of our videos, and sometimes we’d even have to stop playing when the baby woke up from a snooze, which is a situation that I’m sure all new parents can relate to.) I know for a fact that my brother is also the type of guy whose eyes will glaze over when presented with a lot of complicated rules - as is probably the case for anyone who only has at most an hour or two, often in the late evening, to sit down to play a game when the rest of the family is in bed. 

In my opinion, the way to tailor your game to such a player is to make a brisk, well-paced story that they can actually see to a satisfying conclusion. This means that the campaign might be fairly linear - a word which seems to have bizarre negative connotations to some D&D players out there, who are always ranting about “railroading,” which is when a DM puts players down a predetermined path without any wiggle room. I think it’s important to note that “linear” does NOT necessarily equate to “railroading,” however, and that a sprawling campaign with a trillion different outcomes and choices to make at every interval isn’t necessarily the best approach for someone who can only play a little bit each week and might get bored if they feel like they aren’t making tangible progress. 

Let me put it this way - the campaign that I made for my brother was tightly designed. Instead of giving Lester and Claudia a vast landscape to explore, everything was confined to the city of Tartec, and I made an effort to nudge the characters towards certain objectives that they had to complete in order to solve the mystery, such infiltrating a manor house in the upper class section of town. But I also made sure to flesh out these few areas (quality over quantity) and allowed a certain degree of freedom in how the objectives could be cleared. For instance, I initially thought that Lester and Claudia might sneak into the manor house through the sewers. But as I was brainstorming strategies with my bro, the topic of disguises came up, because Claudia owned a disguise kit. And eventually we decided to infiltrate the party with Lester masquerading as a nutty old lady and Claudia as his keeper, which was a fun improvisation that I never would’ve anticipated - but still a viable way to complete the main objective that didn’t negatively impact the story’s pacing. 

On the topic of keeping the pace of the story brisk for a player low on time, I feel like it’s also important to minimize the number crunching and reduce D&D’s more complicated rules whenever possible. In practice, this meant that I took care of as much behind-the-scenes stats management as possible so my bro wouldn’t have to, though I did always try to explain to him what was going on (and what all of those funky dice rolls meant) so he’d have some understanding of the game’s mechanics. Also, whenever we were in a situation where I wasn’t sure of a rule, instead of wasting time looking at the Player’s Handbook, nine times out of ten I’d just make something up on the fly. For example, our adventure had a friendly NPC orangutan in it (specifically chosen because I know my brother likes backflipping primates) and she was supposed to be a super strong, unpredictable force of nature in the final battle. I’d lost the stats that I’d used for her when she first appeared, and instead of looking for them, I decided to just roll a d20 for her damage, figuring that the end result would be close enough. In that same vein, there were a few instances where I made mistakes, since I’m still a relatively new DM. Once I totally miscalculated a character’s special attack, leading to a funny NPC death (which I’d expected but not exactly in that way) and on multiple occasions I flat out forgot to apply modifiers to attack rolls. But instead of going back to redo everything I’d either just laugh it off or forge ahead, hoping that my bro didn’t notice, which he never did. 

Ultimately, my philosophy for DMing is to not sweat the small stuff TOO much if it probably doesn’t matter in the long run, especially if you’re running a game for just one person whose free hours are precious. I believe this sort of approach might be sacrilegious to some of the more rules-oriented DMs out there, like the ones who spend hundreds of words arguing over damage variables on the D&D Subreddit. But I’m not one of those folks, and I’d prefer to follow the advice of Sly Flourish, a DM who has a great website where he advocates a “lazy” style of Dungeon Mastering which de-emphasizes nitpicking over rules in favor of just having fun. 

At the end of the day, having fun is what D&D is all about. It’s a game of make believe that can really bring out your inner storytelling-loving child, and in an era where very few adults are encouraged to even consider the concept of “make believe,” it can be a truly wonderful breath of fresh air. And if you don’t believe me...I encourage you to watch The Case of the Almost Assassination and try not to crack up at some of the situations that Lester LeFoe and Claudia Copperhoof found themselves in. :)

The pics above are either art that I assembled for our adventure or screenshots that I took while we were playing! The little figurines I designed via HeroForge.

[catboysuigetsu]

Robogirl, Monkey Boy and Their Fantastic Kids

In which Trunks and Marron care for Pan, Bulla and Uub on a movie night that ends with introspection (because I wrote it, it can’t be all fluffy, curse my writing)

a late entry for @dbnextgenweek 

The only ship is Truten and Goten isn’t even here  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

And rated T I guess? mostly G except one line at the end and some alcohol drinking. Mostly no one gets hurt, it’s just domestic shenanigans. Enjoy, ya’ll.

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“Trunks, can I have a margarita?” Bulla asked, leaning way over on the counter, eyes wide. What he was making himself was a cocktail, but to Bulla it was all the same. She was five years old.

“What’s the magic word?” Marron nearly choked.

“Please?” she whined, flopping on the bar.

“Alright, go sit down.” She hopped off the stool and Trunks met Marron’s eyes. The girl was glaring daggers at him.

“Are you going to give your five year old sister alcohol?” she demanded.

He smirked, so much like his father. “Of course not. Check it out.” He motioned for her to look under the bar and opened a wine chiller. Lined up was every brightly colored fruity soda she could name off the top of her head. “Mix it together and it looks just like the real thing, and the smell’s so strong they won’t be able to tell that it’s different than mine. It was Goten’s idea. He’s so smart,” he added wistfully, which made Marron laugh because no, he’s really not. Trunks’s boyfriend was away visiting colleges this weekend, even though he would likely go to online college and work at Capsule Corp like Trunks did. Or at least he hoped so.

“Well, that sure is deception.”

“It’s great! Gotta stay one step ahead of these kids.”

“Bad attitude, man.” She wouldn’t admit that she had felt the same way since she was nine, or even before then. She was so below the Saiyan children’s power that she had to accept that getting close to their level would be no easy task. She had strategy, though, taught by her dad and figured out by trial and error. Catching her boys off guard was her specialty.

“Do you want one?” Trunks asked, cracking open four bottles of soda and pouring the first in a glass of ice.

“The real kind or the sugar monstrosity?” She was 16, not legally allowed to drink alcohol yet, not like Trunks knew that, or cared. “Neither. I think I’m good.”

“Alright. Could you go ask Pan and Uub what they want?”

“Whatever.” She went.

The home theater was cut off from the bar by only glass. It was dark, only illuminated by the blue screen of the TV, but all three children were good at seeing in low light. Bulla crouched in the corner, adjusting the movie settings on the laptop there, and Pan leaned over her shoulder observantly. Uub sat on the edge of the couch with his arms around his knees, the blue of the frozen screen reflecting in his large brown eyes.

“Who wants what, kids?”

“Can I have a margarita too?” Pan asked. Marron sighed.

“Do you have milk?” Uub asked quietly.

“Probably upstairs. I’ll get you a glass.” She didn’t move for a moment, then sat down next to the boy. He looked skittish and kept pushing his chin into his knees. “You doing okay?”

“It’s not usually this dark, I-I’m not used to not seeing the sky.” The theater room had no windows and gave the best of them claustrophobia. The sterile air and the enclosed space were understandably frightening the little boy who was never as far from the outside as he was in the Briefs’ compound.

“You want to go for a walk?”

“Yes.” After a beat he unfolded himself and walked with the teen to the door.

“Pan wants a cocktail too,” Marron informed Trunks as they walked by, “and we’re going upstairs to get milk.” He waved a hand to acknowledge them, but didn’t even turn his head. He was on the phone and judging by the spacey, blissed out look on his face she could guess with whom.

The whole compound was dark, save the occasional emergency light, and the air whirred with the sounds of machinery, but at least topside light from the streetlamps and stars streamed in the windows. Uub looked at the sky in wonder, and smiled like it was his best friend. They stopped a moment to stare through the window. Marron wondered if a part of the child remembered that he came from there, somewhere farther out in the cosmos than she could imagine from her little shoebox house on Earth. He played with the lock on the window and before Marron could stop him he was leaning into the warm breeze, giggling at the spring peepers that filled the air with noise.

“Go fly around, I’ll let you back in,” and he was out, hitting the ground and bolting after the peeping frogs. Marron hardly saw someone so happy.

She continued to the kitchen and poured milk for Uub and herself. She spend a minute tapping on the counter, checking her email, enjoying the quiet, before her companion touched down on the patio and knocked on the glass with his elbow. His hands were clamped tightly together and something squeaked inside. Uub smiled like a mad man.

“You shouldn’t bring the frog inside,” Marron warned, but that’s all it was, a warning. She didn’t say he couldn’t.

“I want to show Pan, then I’ll let it back out.”

“Alright.” and after a moment she added with a  smirk, “We’re gonna freak Trunks out though, okay?”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t have to.

They headed back downstairs, Uub looking giddily down at the frog in the empty cereal box they placed it in. Trunks was wrapping his call with Goten up when they returned and Marron transferred the frog into her hand.

“How is Goten doing?” she asked, hands clasped behind her back.

“Great. He’s coming home earlier than he thought he was.” Trunks smelled of alcohol but he was drunk on his own love. It might have been cute.

“How much did you drink? You haven’t touched your cocktail,” she commented, moving closer.

“I had some vodka, just from the bottle. The drink’s for the movie.”

“Ah-huh.” She moved so they were almost touching and wrapped her arms around the tall teen. He hugged back, of course. And her hand sneaked up to his shoulder and placed the frog there. He didn’t notice— until it croaked. The half Saiyan jumped backwards into the wine rack. Marron cackled.

Uub stepped in frantically to rescue the peeper and the girls raced in as Trunks yelled groggily, “How dare you weaponize hugs! Friendship ended robogirl!”

“Talk’s cheap monkey boy!”

“Hey!” Bulla shouted, tiny hands on tiny hips. “Don’t be racist.” Both teens doubled over laughing. Pan agreed loudly over her shoulder.

Marron reached to help Trunks stand up, and he took her hand with one of his and pointed in her face with the other. “Don’t put! Slimy creatures on me please, young lady.”

“Alright, old man, but I promise nothing about slimy plants.”

Trunks groaned.

Pan jumped on Marron, flying up to be face to face with her. “Can we go watch Frozen now?”

“We’re watching Frozen? Oy, I had no idea.” This was the third time they were watching Frozen for movie night, she could have guessed. She stepped toward the theater room and the kids headed that way. “Don’t forget your movie drink, Trunks.” She took her milk with her. Trunks followed.

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Marron was the outcast at her school from 1st grade (she skipped preschool and Kindergarten) to about age 9, and truly she never stopped being one. She had cried for her mom the first couple months of school, and she solved her problems with ki blasts from her fingers, put together with her appearance and need to question everything and not having a filter between curiosity and prying and talking back, did not make her popular.

Chiaotzu had something to say about that, after all he had watched her (along with Tien and/or Yamcha) when she was little the few times 18 had somewhere to be or she and Krillin had a night or a weekend out. She called him her best friend, other than her mom, and didn’t see any problem with it until she had to go to school and he didn’t, seeing as he was a 30 year old. Chiaotzu was the first one to recognize that she really needed some friends her own age.

The only people in the world who could understand Marron, daughter of an android and the most powerful human on Earth, who could bend the energy in and around her to her will, were deemed to be Goten and Trunks. They didn’t like that all that much. Goten wanted to help her but didn’t want his friendship with Trunks to change, and Trunks flat out refused, “Goten is my friend and I don’t wanna share.”

They started meeting only once a week, an Saturday afternoons, after which Bulma would let them stay up as long as they liked playing video games (not like they didn’t do that already, but now it was permitted so they wouldn’t have to try and hide it.) They played hide-and-seek in the sprawling gardens until they introduced her to video games, where she took a vicious liking to whooping their virtual backsides. Hangouts at the Capsule Compound became trips to the mall and the zoo and aquarium, camping trips and occasional sleepovers. They liked each other and reveled in their secret powers, exchanging glances and smiles at school. They confided in each other. She was their friend, and they were her boys.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Trunks sat with his arm spread out on top of the couch like always, and Marron sat on the cushion in front of it and leaned her head back. Her shaved hair irritated his skin and he readjusted himself so the short girl leaned on his shoulder instead. When she first shaved her hair he accused her of copying him. She said neither flattery nor mockery was involved in her decision. Her hair was just too long for her own good, she didn’t like it on the back of her neck or behind her ears. It made her a better fighter too, which was always a plus. Grabbing Goten’s hair over and over was what made him finally cut his. Trunks kept his short for convenience probably, since he has no patience to deal with tangles.

“I’m going to start the movie!” Bulla declared, pressing the play button then running and catapulting herself into her brother’s lap.

“OOF! Ow, Bulla!” She giggled. “What is this, mess with Trunks night?”

“Here I come,” Pan warned and jumped onto Marron’s lap. The teen tackled the littler girl to the couch into a laughing heap.

Uub had gone somewhere, but returned not too far into the movie. “The frog’s back outside.”

Pan pouted. “Can you catch another one later?”

“I’ll teach you how to catch one.” He sat down and Pan clambered off Marron’s lap and onto his. He hardly let anybody touch him, let alone sit in his lap. Pan was a special case. She was his training buddy, and fellow frog lover.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the time everyone lived happily ever after it was past 11 o’clock but none of the kids wanted to go to sleep. Trunks and Marron were ready but the young ones still had energy. Trunks wasn’t about to deal with that.

He tucked Bulla and Pan into their little shared bed against their protests and made them promise that if they played games they had to be talking games, not get up and run around ones. Uub slept in a cot in the same room and he was the one of the three closest to falling asleep. He was curled up with his eyes closed when the teens left.

Marron climbed into Trunks’s bed as he exhaustedly set up the air mattress.

“Goten will be back this time tomorrow. You think you two’ll be screwing in this room then?” Marron asked lazily.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea why you would want to know that given where you are currently laying,” he responded, smirking and flopping on his mattress.

“You’re right. I don’t wanna know.”

The Saiyan boy pulled his quilt up to his chin. “Lights off,” he commanded, and they clicked off.

“You think either of you’ll ever have kids?” she asked, quieter this time. “You’re a good… you’re such a good big brother to all three of them.”

She almost thought Trunks hadn’t heard her, and listened for his snores. He finally said, “We haven’t talked about it, I mean I’m only 19 and he’s 18. I can’t say I want kids but I do... like caring for the kids we have now.” Pause. “I don’t know, you don’t think putting me in permanent charge of a kid is a good idea, right? I’m not that responsible.” She knew. He had given his five year old sister what she thought was a margarita.

“I dunno. Put you and Goten together and you make a great team. I mean, what else are you gonna do?”

“How about run Capsule Corp? I’ve got my job set for me, I don’t know about him.”

“Bulma runs this place and still raised two kids. You could do it.”

“A lot of faith, Marron, a lot of faith.” It was quiet again.

“You could go pro at fighting, I think that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Fruit and vodka. Mechanical whirring, light through the windows from streetlamps and stars. Spring peepers. “Goodnight, Mar.”

“Goodnight.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Please tell me other people know what peepers are? Those frogs where you can open your window in the springtime and hear them screaming at each other. We have them in the suburbs but I’m pretending they have them in the city too.

Also I have not watched any of GT, although I guess this takes place some time in between the end of Z and the start of GT in some au where Uub stays in Satan City to train along with Bulla and Pan instead of going back to his island. All characterizations are kind of pulled out of my head along with things I’ve gotten from fandom osmosis.

Hope you liked!

edit: HAHAH i forgot to mention that i have zero concept of anybody’s ages in canon so if something’s really wrong, it’s probably just my ignorance. Whoops.

[the-kings-tail-fin]

How about a short fic where when Cal is a kid and he's being babysat by Lynda and Strip and while they're both asleep,Cal decides to give Strip a new paint job (bright pink) and when they wake up Lynda is laughing and Strip doesn't know why until he sees himself in the mirror. 😂

I’M WHEEZING. THIS ASK IS BRILLIANT, ANON, BRILLIANT. BLESS YOU.

THIS FIC WENT A LITTLE LONG. ENJOY!

Cal’s parents needed some time off from raising the sweet, but rambunctious toddler, so they decided to go out of town for a few days and drive around the countryside. They dropped Cal off with Strip and Lynda, who at the time had nothing better to do. To say that the kid kept them busy would be an understatement. 

The first day was spent child-proofing the house. They couldn’t figure out how on earth Cal kept getting into the places he was. He tried to climb Strip’s trophy showcase, nearly knocking it over. He then found his way onto the kitchen table and started pretending it was a circle track. Lynda later found him inside a cabinet chowing down on something he most certainly should not have had in his mouth. If they didn’t keep tabs on him at all times, he would be gone in an instant and up to no good.

“Why can’t you just stay in one place?” Lynda asked him, cleaning up a vase he’d accidentally knocked over while zooming around the living room.

Cal responded in garbled toddler-speak. He flashed her that big, innocent smile that melted her heart. She couldn’t be annoyed with him if she wanted to.

“Cal, come ‘ere.” Strip called from the next room, hoping to get the kid’s attention away from his wife long enough for her to clean up the mess. 

Cal immediately whipped into the living room to see what his uncle wanted. Seeing the big, decorated racecar was a treat in and of itself for the kid, even if he had no grasp on why.

“Look at that.” Strip gestured to the TV on the wall across from where he was parked. He had it tuned to RSN to watch the stock truck racing. “You see them? You like racin’, right? Why don’t you park over here next to me and watch this.”

Cal revved his tiny little engine and made vroom noises with his mouth at the same time. He became fixated on the TV, watching the racers go around the track. Strip watched his nephew. Cal would lean to the left every time the pack went around a turn and make noise to supplement it. Strip couldn’t help but smile. Even when the commercials came on, Cal was still in his own little world, making noise like he was out there racing.

Then a Dinoco commercial came on. Strip sighed a little, he didn’t really care to see himself on TV. All Dinoco’s commercials had either clips of him winning races or posing for something. This caught Cal’s attention. He became quiet for the first time all day. Then he reached out with his tire to tap Strip, and pointed towards the TV.

“Ship! Ship!” he repeated enthusiastically. His uncle looked down at him, confused.

“Whatever you’re trying to say, kid, it ain’t makin’ it though the language barrier.” he said, knowing Cal wouldn’t understand him.

“I think he’s tryin’ to say your name.” Lynda interpreted, coming into the room to join them.

Strip looked back down at Cal, who was staring back up at him with wide eyes. Then, the race came back on, and Cal revved his engine, resuming his previous state of pretend-racing. Strip smiled again. If this kid was to become a racer one day, he’d be good. There was no denying it.

“I’m exhausted.” Lynda said, yawning. “It’s only 7:30 and I’m ready for bed.”

“Yeah.” Strip agreed. “Hopefully he will be too, before long.”

An hour later, Lynda tucked Cal in in the guest room across the hall from their bedroom. Cal passed out almost immediately, more worn out than he let on.

“Finally, some quiet.” Strip said as Lynda joined him in their room.

“Enjoy it while it lasts.” she replied. "I’m gonna leave the door open, so we can hear if he tries to get up.”

“You mean so you can hear if he tries to get up.”

“Yeah, yeah… You know, you’d sleep through a hurricane if there was no one to wake you up.”

Not twenty minutes later, the little putter of an engine came through the doorway. Cal wedged himself right in between Strip and Lynda, wiggled around a little bit, and went right back to sleep.

The next day was a little more laid back, as Cal grew tired of exploring the house and climbing on things. Lynda kept him busy doing arts and crafts in the kitchen most of the day. At one point, Strip took him out in the back yard and let him pretend he was a racer, going in circles around the yard. Strip used chalk paint to put a 42 on Cal’s side, absolutely making the kid’s day and boosting his confidence (a little too much). Cal ended up crying, somehow stuck in a bush, and so they came back inside. Cal was content painting pictures for his parents the rest of the evening.

They were starting to get the hang of the whole babysitting thing. Again that night, Cal didn’t want to sleep alone, and joined them at some point after he was supposed to be asleep. 

The sunlight came through the window the next morning, waking them up. Lynda was the first to fully awaken. She looked down at Cal, still snoozing away at her side. She saw he had bright pink splatters on his little hood and fenders, and was a bit confused at first. He hadn’t gotten any paint on him yesterday while doing crafts. She looked around the room and saw the can of paint laying open on the floor on the other side of the room. He must have gotten into it last night without her knowing about it, she concluded.

Then she looked over at her husband, and had to bite her lip to keep from busting out in laughter. Strip opened his eyes a little, waking up. Lynda couldn’t contain herself. She started laughing so hard she couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Strip looked at her, confused. Mornings did not typically start out like this for him. Why was she laughing? He looked down at Cal, who was still sleeping like a rock. He blinked a couple times, and Lynda just pointed at him and kept laughing. He rolled forward a little bit and saw the can of paint sitting on the floor. Dread came over him, and he looked in the mirror on the other side of the room.

“Are you kidding me.” he groaned. His entire left side was slathered with messy hot pink paint, from his tires all the way up to his door handle, as high as Cal could reach. Somehow the kid had even got the side of his spoiler and the left half of his hood splattered in the stuff.

Lynda finally gathered herself for a second and took a couple deep breaths. “I can’t take it. I can’t deal with it.” she said, sounding exasperated. 

“You’re laughing now, but you’re the one who’s gonna hafta clean it off.” Strip said, slightly annoyed. “How did he even manage to do this? You were supposed to keep an eye on him!”

“Don’t blame me.” she defended herself, starting to laugh again. “You somehow slept through a three year old giving you a paint job. That’s on you. But don’t worry, I think it’s washable.”

“It better be.” Strip grumbled.

Cal was awake by that point, looking around at his aunt and uncle. He slowly, sleepily rolled across the floor towards them. He only seemed to remember what he’d done the night before when he passed the can of paint. He looked at it and giggled, then looked at his uncle and giggled some more. Strip gave him a disappointed look, but Cal came over to him and snuggled up to his side.

“Ship.” Cal said with a big smile.

“Awww.” Lynda was completely under Cal’s spell. “That’s just adorable.”

Strip sighed, looking down at Cal. The kid was instantly forgiven, if but for nothing else than sheer cuteness. 

Lynda laughed a little again. “Alright, come on now, Cal. We gotta go clean all this paint off before your mama and daddy come back.”

Cal squealed in excitement and followed her out the door. Strip looked at himself one more time in the mirror, and again, couldn’t help but smile a little. That kid was something else.