#out of touch with the younguns

[deliciouskeys]

I’m sorry.

[patchoulism]

Is it me getting out of touch with what the younguns are up to nowadays, or am I just in my displeasure with youtube videos named something like "You Should Watch [the staple of the genre anime that has been a successful franchise for past 30 years]"? Are there culinary videos that go "You Should Try This Drink Named Pepsi"?

[cyberhai]

As much as I gripe about tourists, there is nothing like catching a jellyfish in the surf before a group of little city kids on vacation and watching their heads explode.

I'll be surrounded by like six younguns listening to the dude who just went swimming in jean shorts explain how the basketball sized jellyfish in my hands is not in fact stinging me because it is a cannonball jellyfish with weak venom, and they might give you a bad itch if you touch their tentacles for a long time but it's perfectly fine to touch the jelly's bell. Then the kids ask their parents if they can touch the jellyfish and wade out to watch me put him back out to sea and I feel all Steve Irwiny and shit.

[glapplebloom]

Another Double Feature, for you pre-kids…

My sister has three kids, all under the age of five. Two of them were born this year. On the same day. So unlike my niece I have to help a lot more than before. That means I’ve been putting on things to keep them calm. One of those things are the Looney Tunes: Bugs Bunny Builders. Bluey is more hearing my niece watch it at times and finding the random clips pretty interesting. So I might as well give them a shot each.

Bugs Bunny Builders have a pretty easy to follow flow: The episode begins with the Looney Tunes gang doing random stuff related to the project, most often related to what lesson needs to be learned. When they get an assignment, they plan it out. Then it’s hard hat time with each replay having a unique Daffy bit related to the episode. They work on the project, the issue is brought up, they solve the issue and it ends happily. A simple set up perfect for a Preschool Show.

A lot of other Looney Tunes characters appear as cameos. Sometimes they help like Petunia as a mechanic, Wile E. for an invention, and Taz for demolition. Other times they’re the customers like Foghorn Leghorn as a Mayor wanting a Waterpark or frikkin Sniffles as one of the kids wanting the old Merry Go Round fixed. And in a move out of Jellystone, Playboy Penguin becomes Pauleen Penguin, complete with speaking role. And honestly, Daffy being Daffy is a big highlight of this series. Overall, I think this is a good introduction to Looney Tunes for your younguns.

Now Bluey is a series apparently made by someone who did Newground material. Sadly, I never saw Dan the Man so I checked out the free to view episode one. First is Keepy Uppy, where Bluey and her sister try to keep the last balloon from touching the floor. When they got a good strategy, they asked their dad to make it harder. And he does so with gusto.It's honestly really cute and fun.They continue to play with their father in the Magic Xylophone, where they play with it by freezing their father who really is willing to embarrass himself to keep them happy. They also learn to share more.

Though my favorite of the three shorts was Shadowlands. Bluey and her two friends play a game where they have to stay in the shadows to reach their goal. Not like ninjas, more like the floor is lava except everything the light touches is an ocean filled with hungry alligators. A Poodle wanted to change the rules when it seemed too difficult but Bluey convinced her to continue playing the game. Starting with a gap too wide for their short legged friend. Bluey’s solution: since they can jump across, stand on top of each other to create a shadow and shorten the gap.

The next is when Bluey didn’t make it in time when a car left its parking space. Luckily for her, a bus was passing by and she made it to the shadow just in time. The last one seemed impossible, as they were in the middle of the grassy field with the wind making going back across the pine tree’s shadow more difficult. It seemed hopeless when a passing cloud covered the field. So they raced to the picnic blanket, even going back for their fallen friend, before the sun touched them. And the Poodle learned that following the rules to the game makes it fun. 

Honestly, I think Bluey is the best of these two and a pretty fun show to watch alongside your kids. Chances of me being able to see the series fully is slim though. But I’ll definitely be seeing clips. (EDIT: So I saw every episode on Disney+ and spoilers, it’s definitely my pick of the year)

[burnitalldowndarling]

An old person question for any younguns following

Do GenZ kids have any unique slang? I hear them use the hell out of old AAVE, but is there anything happening like Valley Girl Speak or l33t*? Because I am officially Middle Aged and thus out of touch, but I’ve been listening for it (for research purposes) and I haven’t heard anything.

(* Itself stolen from script kiddies and hackers; not trying to suggest GenZ is the only one that does this!)

[menfenced]

I was reading the notes on a post and one of the comments was, “OP is definitely like 28 years old.”

And I am so confused.

I would understand what they were trying to say if they guessed the OP’s age as 15. They think OP is a sweet summer child.

Or if they guessed 50. Oh, you’re part of that older generation that’s completely out of touch with us younguns.

Or even if they had said OP was in their 20s more generally. Young adult, maybe less experienced in the world, and still prone to saying some naive shit.

But 28 seems so… pointed.

Which is especially weird considering 28 is probably right in that middle chunk of the tumblr age bell curve. Probably a bit to the right, but certainly still within shouting distance of the average age.

So is the person in the notes really old and somehow thinks 28 is young? Or are they a child who thinks anyone above 27 is old and out of touch? Or is there some common personality trait around age 28 that I am just completely unaware of?

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

not allowed, interlude | 20220629

drabble: ‘not allowed’ series; fluff some wholesome BS lol pairing(s): est. relationship yoongi x reader x jungkook

Guess who's favorite noona is addicted to BTS Island: In The SEOM? tbh I wrote this because the game was under maintenance and I was bored lmao

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii

--

"Says here that you hate grass."

"I don't hate grass."

"Then why are did you say, ugh?"

Skeptical and slightly peeved dark brown orbs peered at your phone screen. “Hm.” A small frown. “I don’t have any particular feelings towards grass, though.”

“Maybe you made a disapproving face at grass on set before, a staff saw you and thought it was so funny that they added to the game.”

Min Yoongi made his best disapproving face at you. He would never admit it but sweet as SUGA was good at those funny facial expressions that he insisted weren’t only for laughs. You still snickered though. Oops. “How am I supposed to remember every expression I make?”

“Maybe don’t look so disdainfully at grass then.”

“When was the last time you touched grass?” he grumbled in his deep voice, going right back to his phone and vegetative position.

“Look at you, using the younguns’ lingo!”

Those cat-like eyes narrowed into slits. He decided not to grace you with a response to that. He didn’t have one. Probably because he had no idea what you meant, but asking what the lingo was would surely out himself. Therefore, the genius producer meow meow did the clever, strategic move of changing the subject. He did not, however, miss your triumphant grin (that earned you an extra disapproving eye squint). He chose to ignore it.

Yoongi hummed and ticked his eyebrow to your phone. “Do you like the OST?” he asked offhandedly.

“Of course! It reminds me of MapleStory. I always play with the sound on,” you chirped, flopping down next to him on the bed as he grunted in mock discomfort. “I usually have the sound off because most background music is too happy for me.”

Yoongi gave you one of his small smiles that he did when he agreed but still wanted to question. “Too happy?”

“Yeah, sometimes I’m not cheerful, okay, okay? I like this better. It’s soothing and, when you really listen to it, it’s quite layered and intricate. There’s even a sound in there that reminds me of cicadas. Reminiscent of your usual style, too. Ah, but, you should be careful. Lots of game companies are going to ask to collaborate with you now!”

He laughed softly and, from the tone and the bashfulness, you could see he was very pleased. It was both what he wanted to hear and that he could see that you meant it. When you enjoyed things, you always had a lot to say. “Couldn’t be too cheerful since you might be annoyed after being unable to complete a level – wait, what level are you on?!”

Your phone flipped as you tried to squirm away from Yoongi’s wide eyes once he finally registered all the information on your screen, looking quite like his BTS Island: In The SEOM game avatar. So far you had been incredibly impressed by the game developers’ attention to detail, from the avatar expressions and movements, the accurate dialogue, even the aesthetic color choices. Oh, and can’t forget those spoony-looking hands and little nubbins for legs that hung in the air when they laid down. Clearly a lot of research and efforts had been put into it. You would be ready to discuss all of it if it wasn’t for the fact that you were sputtering, trying to explain yourself as the front door opened, and you heard heavy things dropping.

“Hey, hey, have you downloaded the game, hyung, I set up my island and everything, let me show you and – oh, noona! You’re here already!”

You grinned at Jeon Jungkook and his wild, slightly messy workout hair. Wow, those big sparkly brown eyes really were the biggest peepers of all. How long had the game designers been staring into the Golden Maknae’s eyes? Couldn’t blame them, though. He looked a bit like a black fabric mountain in his loose clothes as he bounced over, clutching his phone to load up the colorful opening screen.

“I’m about level seventy, what about–?”

Yoongi grunted.

Aw shit.

“She’s over level two hundred.”

“You’re over level WHAT?” Jungkook’s booming volume filled up the entire bedroom. The Golden Maknae had some powerful lungs on him. Needed them for those high notes. “How?! I thought you had a job!”

“I do have a job, excuse you–”

“What you have is an addiction.”

Jungkook had now taken your phone. “You have so many stars! You haven’t even done the story!”

“Er…”

“Why is your island so naked? You need some decorations.”

“Decorations cost money.”

“I have lots of decorations, look.”

“Yes, but you also have money.”

“I can give you money.”

“You are not being my suga daddy in In The SEOM. Besides, I want to kick your ass without money. Ohohoho, I knew you would spend more time decorating. Aww, Hoseok looks so cute in those sunglasses you put him in!”

“That’s not allowed, noona! You said you’re good at puzzle games!”

“This isn’t a competition, you two. This is a healing game…”

“Maybe you should try harder, Jungkookie~!” You gasped dramatically as you explored his account on his phone. “Your future wife is in your club? Did you peel apart perilla leaves for her? Is that how it happened? ‘Today a perilla leaf, tomorrow marriage.’ Gosh, I told you that was dangerous!”

“Noona, you!”

At this point Yoongi had given up on his bed, getting up with a sigh as you and Jungkook began to roll around laughing and bantering about each other’s islands. Later, Yoongi would tell you that it looked both like a fight and as if you were trying to strip reach other, so nothing to worry about. Per usual. He watched the debacle with fond amusement.

“You used to be quiet,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Well, you used to be available,” you called accusingly from the bed with your legs around Jungkook’s waist as he pinned your arms to your sides. “Then you discovered Pilates and started practicing English.”

“You could practice English with me.”

“I know plenty of English,” you wheezed, yanking up the black shirt. Jungkook yelped as your bare thighs touched his skin and you rolled him back over to be on top, only to be lifted far too easily. Damnnit! You let out your own yelp. “Such as–”

“If you sing Butter one more time, I’m getting a gag.”

“You don’t own a gag, hyung?” Jungkook questioned with a confused expression as you flailed about in the air like a caught (super) tuna.

“Why would I own a gag?” Yoongi sighed exasperatedly, eyes and mouth thinned into lines. Actually, there was a slight upturn to his lips. Hm, quite like a cat.

“I dunno, you kinda seem like you’d own a gag – ah! No bitey!”

“What are you reading online, hah…?”

-

“It’s under maintenance…”

“Aw, man, what now?”

Those big peepers looked your way.

“You looking a lil sus…”

“Can you two speak like normal human beings? What are you doing to my shirt – oi!”

--

drabbles masterpost | masterpost

[firebirdsdaughter]

So…

… I kinda mumbled about this in the tags of another post, but I do love how the fam all has different roles and positions and strengths and weaknesses in their relationships.

Like it’s interesting how something unplanned can result in some really interesting character stuff. The introduction of Tara in a role I like to dub the ‘wine aunt’ even if it never involves wine, gives some really great new angles for the characters, both their flaws and strengths.

Bc the fact is, Sophie’s right, they needed someone with a clear view on hand, for different reasons. Parker and Hardison are still the younguns; they absolutely talk back to Nate, esp when he deserves it, but ultimately go along w/ him, bc he’s dad and ultimately they trust and care about him, and Parker’s got that touch of the chaotic herself, to put it mildly.

Eliot’s a little different. I love how different his relationship is w/ the ‘parents’ and as a result how differently he responds to Tara. Parker and Hardison are tense immediately bc the primary grifter they’ve worked w/ is Sophie, they’ve already settled into family roles, and Tara is just that much different that it’s awkward. Meanwhile, as Tara herself notes, Eliot is a consummate professional when it comes to the job, but even his initial response to Tara is wary (he’s half in protective mode until Nate confirms her story). Further on, Tara proves she can be relied on on cons, and Eliot has enough concern for her to call Nate out about her (although he’d do that for anyone), but there’s still a distance, and I think you really see it in that moment at the start of the Zanzibar ep where she brings up Nate’s drinking.

I already love the moment where Nate specifically looks back at Eliot after being forced to take a drink in the Bottle Job, the way Eliot’s reaction is shown first. Eliot is the left hand, imo he becomes Nate’s closest confidant after Sophie, he’s the one Sophie’s always colluding w/ about Nate’s behaviour, something she presumably let Tara know. But when Tara tries to talk about Nate’s drinking, Eliot… Kinda shuts her out. He doesn’t outright push her off, and some of it may be that Nate is right there, but the way he responds w/ ‘I’m not an idiot’ and bluntly tells her it’s a symptom comes across to me as him almost telling her she doesn’t know what she’s talking about; and looking back, he never discusses private matters w/ her like he does Sophie, and she never asks him again, bc when she did (albeit not the most tactful or polite way), he closed ranks and pushed her off. And I think that’s the danger w/ Eliot—Eliot will absolutely keep an eye on Nate, call him out, stand up to him, do his best to manage things, but his first instinct will always be to protect Nate. And that’s what he’s doing in that moment—sure, Tara can be counted on for jobs, but Nate’s drinking issues are something personal that Eliot’s not going to discuss w/ just anyone; it’d take much more time for him to fully open up to Tara about that, he’s only semi just solidified his attachment to Nate and the rest of the team in the previous finale. Nate is kinda already filling the role of surrogate father for him, and by now his loyalty to Nate is totally locked in. It ties in to that conversation they have outside the hotel in the finale, where Eliot reads Nate the riot act and Nate asks if he’s walking away (something I think he only ever directly asks Sophie and Eliot, he says ‘anyone can walk away’ a few times, but I think he only ever directly asks them if they’re leaving, but I should be in bed, so maybe I’m wrong), to which Eliot says no, he’ll have Nate’s back, but he’s going to say his piece. But he’s still in.

And that’s it. Eliot is nigh too loyal and protective. He’ll try to stop Nate going off the rails, but there’s only so much he can do, and if it happens he won’t pull the plug, he will never cut out. He’ll follow Nate to hell and try to protect him from it. And that’s why they need that additional piece.

They’re all just so interconnected and I love it.

[exit-path]

feeling like an out-of-touch grandpa with anything weirdcore now. anywho you younguns have fun

[vannahfanfics]

Before you read, here’s the previous chapter.

Skyward

Ao3

Chapter 1: Earthbound, Heavensent

The brake lever squealed as Katsuki yanked it hard, a toothpick clenched between his teeth as he cast a look at the elevator. The ancient metalwork shuddered and groaned as it came to a screeching stop within the shaft, its rusted top barely brushing the jagged top of the stone roof. I keep tellin’ the old man that damn elevator is too ancient! Katsuki thought bitterly, leaning back in the torn cloth stool on which he was perched. The wire elevator door squeaked as the miners wrenched it open; the mine cart was even squeakier as they wheeled it in across the coal dust-covered metal tracks. Katsuki crossed his arms as he squinted at their haul. 

“What do we have?” Vlad grunted as he crossed the rocky mine, a massive wrench hefted on his shoulder. He didn’t wait for his workers to answer, plucking up a black slab of stone to inspect it critically. “Coal again, huh? The market’s becoming saturated with the stuff… If we don’t start finding something more valuable, then we’ll be out of business.” He tossed the coal back into the cart. The men looked defeated as they pushed it away, preparing to unload it alongside the mountains of coal they’d already mined that day. 

Vlad strolled to a large wheel attached to the machinery lining the blue stone walls. He gripped it with his gloved hands, grunted as he turned the rust-covered wheel to shut down the mine workings for the day. The pipes overhead squealed and shuddered and groaned as high-pressure steam changed course within their bowels. Just as Katsuki was slipping down from the stool, a pipe released a high-pitched whine and began to swell up, bulging with building-up steam. 

“Boss!” he exclaimed, and as Vlad whipped around with narrowed eyes, the pipe aneurysm burst. “Damn it!” Katsuki cried as hot steam gushed from the open pipe just mere inches from him. The heat bloomed across his forearm and legs, the water vapor hissing against the cloth of his overalls and white cotton shirt. Somehow he managed to avoid being scalded as he scurried to the nearest bypass valve. “This damn mine is gonna be the death of us, not the market!” he yelled over the wailing steam. 

As he closed off the pipe, it shifting the steam pressure to another path. The stream of vapor rapidly dwindled until only condensed water dripped from the jagged-edged hole in the metal. Katsuki sniffed in disdain, rolling the toothpick around in his teeth. Vlad only growled at the busted pipes and pulled the brim of his hat down over his blood-red eyes. 

“If this keeps up, we’ll all be starving soon,” he mumbled. He tapped the wrench against his broad shoulder with a small sigh, then lifted his hat to look at Katsuki. “All right, lad, your turn to lock up for the night. Go grab yourself some grub first; I know you skipped lunch today to repair the elevator.” 

“Yeah, only on your orders, old man!” Katsuki retorted snidely, trying to retain his pride as his stomach yowled and scratched within his belly. His mouth twitched in discomfort as the beast of hunger raged inside him. It would be a pain to trek to the village, even if it was ten minutes or so, but… he could really go for some meatballs about now. His boss tossed his head invitingly, indicating for Katsuki to follow the miners on their departure. Snorting, Katsuki grabbed his bag and stomped after them. 

“You should be ashamed of yourself, leavin’ a kid like me to lock up the mine,'' he huffed as he tromped alongside the large man. “What if I get eaten by wolves, huh?” 

“You, eaten by wolves?” Vlad laughed, tilting back his head as he guffawed. “I’d be more concerned about you eating them !” 

“Come on, now, I ain’t some beast !” 

“Are ya sure? You’re pretty beastly to me, youngun,” Vlad teased and threw a burly arm around his neck to yank him close. Katsuki snarled as his nose was pressed right into his sweaty armpit, dank with sweat and toil and the tang of coal dust. As Katsuki squirmed around, bleating to be released, Vlad continued to chortle and dug his knuckles into his scalp, mussing up his ash-blond hair. 

“Fuck off, ya old geezer!” Katsuki finally managed to yank his head away and sucked down a breath of fresh air, relishing the taste of dew and earth replacing the musty sweat of Vlad’s armpit. “ You’re the beast! You smell like a dump; you go home to yer wife smellin’ like that?” 

“At least I have a wife,” Vlad grinned. Katsuki flushed in anger and looked away; a few paces away, fellow mine worker Tetsutetsu— and the only one around Katsuki’s age— was regaling an older gentleman about his lovely wife Mina who was cooking his favorite dish that night. Katsuki wasn’t exactly jealous or anything; why the hell should he be concerned about things like that? Still, it did get lonely, living by himself in his house on the hill. 

“Fuck off,” Katsuki repeated. His quiet tone made Vlad hum thoughtfully and gave him the sense not to push the issue further. Katsuki wasn’t jealous or anything, not at all. He just lived his life, working in the mine and trekking back to his shack on the hill— day in, day out, all by his lonesome. 

Katsuki stopped at the general store in the middle of town, while Vlad and the other workers continued on, trundling home to their wives and families. Katsuki’s expression was pensive as he quietly ordered some meatballs from the young woman manning the counter; though the place was mostly a general store, the old woman who owned the place also had a little to-go diner set up in the corner, mostly because the miners trekked by on both their morning and evening commutes. The woman filled a metal thermos with steaming, sauce-coated meatballs and he fished out some crumpled bills to pay. 

As he walked the path he came, he used his fingers to fish out some of the meatballs. He popped them into his mouth, silently chewing with lidded eyes. His footsteps crunched on the dirt path, echoing through the fields flanking him on either side. His only accompaniment was his shadow, bobbing alongside him as the bright white moon cast him in its gentle light. He actually did hear a coyote howl in the distance, making him look into the hills with a slight shudder. As he did, he caught a glint of pink light in his peripheral vision. 

“What the…?” He stopped on the path as he squinted at the strange pink light twinkling in the inky black sky. He could almost mistake it for a star, except it was slowly descending to earth. 

“It’s heading toward the mine!” He took off down the path, ignoring the canteen of meatballs swinging against his thigh. He was too concerned with getting to the strange, slowly falling star dropping towards the mine. The pink glow grew brighter and brighter, flickering like a soft flame. 

Within, he thought he could see… a body? 

“Is that a person ?” he exclaimed in disbelief. Finally, he came to the scaffolding overlooking the large shaft leading down into the mine. The glow was heading downwards, towards the center. He slammed his meatballs down, cursing as they fell over and sent sauce spilling across the wood; he hurriedly righted it, cursing again as it scalded his skin, and looked back to the strange falling person. 

He could see clearly now; it was a girl in a white nightgown, the fabric and her short-cut chestnut hair gently fluttering as ribbons of pink magic streamed around her. She drifted down over the large platform holding the winch, so Katsuki scrambled up the rickety steps on all fours to clamber like a beast across the platform. He stood up on the edge, panting slightly from his feverish dash, and held out his arms. 

The girl gently floated down, the wisps of rose-colored magic swirling around her like water. It tickled his skin as it flickered around him, and it was cool like water, too. It rose goosebumps on his skin as it rippled over his arms, soon joined by the soft kiss of her cotton nightgown. She suspended over his touch for a second, the magic swirling around them like a storm, before it slowly retracted into the glittering gemstone pendant hovering above her neck. 

“Whoa…” he murmured, his red eyes reflecting the beautiful coral of the pendant. It has a gold insignia painted on its round surface. As the light retreated within its translucent surface, the girl stopped hovering and flopped down into his arms. The sudden weight shocked him, bringing him to his knees. He groaned as he just barely held himself in a crouch, arms straining to keep the girl from plummeting out of his grip and into the mineshaft below. He crab-walked his way away from the edge, hefting her over the edge of the platform and gently laying her down.  

“Damn, girl,” he huffed while rubbing his burning muscles. “You couldn’t have drifted a few feet left?” He crossed his legs underneath him as he caught his breath, looking down to inspect the strange girl that had fallen from the sky. 

His eyes slowly drifted up to the sleeping girl’s face, and he drew in a sharp breath, because this time he didn’t even have words to express the beauty his eyes beheld. She looked so peaceful as she slept, her plump lips slightly parted as she breathed slowly. Her short brown hair framed her face, which was pale despite her rosy cheeks. He reached out to stroke his knuckles across the soft skin of her cheek in a featherlight touch; she felt cold, and he wondered how far from the sky she’d fallen if the chill of the atmosphere had seeped into her skin. 

“Just where did you come from?” he murmured. She dozed on, her chest rising and falling with unlabored breaths. He grabbed a nearby blanket, inspecting it for grease stains as he unfolded it, before gently laying it over her snoozing form. He pulled back the blanket a little to peer at her strange necklace, but it just gleamed typically in the moonlight, showing no hint of the strange magical power at play just a few moments before. “Strange…” he said aloud before covering her again, tucking the blanket under her chin. 

He still had to close the mine. Grabbing his forgotten meatballs, he got up and piled almost all of them in his mouth by the time he made it down the stairs. His cheeks bulged like a chipmunk as he began cleaning up the mine. Every so often he glanced up at the platform, but the mysterious girl slept on, peacefully unaware that she’d drifted down from the sky like an angel. 

After an hour, he’d finally taken care of all the tasks for closing down the mine. He scampered back up the stairs to find the girl just where he’d left her, though she did hum something unintelligible and shift a little under the blanket. With the way her head was turned, he could see her chubby cheeks shining in the moon. 

“Guess I’ll call you ‘Cheeks’ since I don’t know your name,” he chuckled with a slight smirk. He squatted down, bundling her into his arms; now that it wasn’t unexpected, she was lighter than he realized. He easily held her close to his chest as he stomped down the stairs, carefully tucking her in one arm as he doused the lanterns at the mine entrance and closed the gates behind him. The girl murmured something and buried her nose into his chest, smiling faintly as she breathed in. Heat tinged his ears as she snuggled into him. “Do you have any idea who you’re cuddlin’?” he muttered, but couldn’t help but smile a little. She was kind of cute, for a girl who fell from the sky. 

He eventually shifted so that he was carrying her piggyback, the blanket wrapped around her to shield from the night wind. Her head bobbed gently against his shoulder with each step he took down the long, winding path leading up the hill, where the silhouette of his humble home was barely visible against the starry night sky and cloudy mountains in the distance. As he walked, the moonlight bathed him in its gentle white glow; his shadow walked beside him, with that of the girl wrapped around him like a cocoon. 

He glanced up as the light was suddenly eclipsed to see the shadow of a plane passing over the full moon. He scowled at the bird-like silhouette; it circled the moon like a hawk, spying on the earth below. That’s a bad sign… 

He pushed the girl up on his back before setting off at a quick pace. The mysterious appearance of the girl and that strange biplane in the sky were undoubtedly linked, and so he needed to hide her before the moonlight betrayed them… because the sky could not be trusted.

Enjoy this story? Here’s the next chapter! Please consider perusing my Table of Contents.

[benitothe3rd]

Game: PofNR

History Lesson!

“Afternoon, madame.”

“I’m not old, geezer. What do you have?”

“Well, Amber, as you can see, I have a wide array of wheat and apples, the only two things we grow on this tiny island.”

“Ya know, I never understood why you sell the actual wheat. Shouldn’t it all go to the miller?”

“They’re duds. People buy them for decoration, like a bouquet. You’d know this if you shopped here more often.”

“Shove off. Oh, this looks nice. Say, have you seen Warcrimes McGee around lately?”

“What, miss tormenting him already? Nah, after the last stunt you pulled, he closed himself off, moping or whatever.”

“What a baby. I’ll take 10 of these.”

“That’s 20 gears. Hey, look, I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t ‘ave done it, but don’t you think leading the man on just to take him to your wedding as a ‘date’ taking it a tad too far?”

“It’s its own fault for not following the local gossip. Now, I’m headed for the butchery next, so where-”

“They’re at home, ya paranoiac. Have a nice day!”

...

“Oh, hi honey. Sorry, I don’t want you coming along. Just stay here, I’ll pick you up on the way back. Hey, Elmer! Watch her for me, ‘kay?”

“Hiya, little lady, what brings you here? You never wandered like this before.”

“Did you not hear? I got adopted, ya geezer.”

“Don’t tell me. She’s been married for like 3 days and she’s already getting children.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

...

“So, got any good stories today?”

“I knew it! I knew you were wanderin’ for a reason!”

“Oh, shove off and tell me something.”

“Hmph, already taking after your mother, aren’t you. In that case, do I have the story for you, youngun.

“I reckon Teacher been teachin’ history, right? He ever get to the Craz Empire part yet?”

“No sir-e.”

“Right, it must’ve been like 5 to 7 generations ago, but we’ve kept a well preserved story from the time.

“Anyways, way back in the day, there were only three states in Noregresa, The Craz Empire, Mansa, and Atou.

“As you can expect, the three did not get along. The monsters wanted the humans off their island, the humans had nowhere else to go, and neither wanted to be eaten by Craz.

“However, the two were more concerned about the first two points as Craz’s expansion had apparently stopped with the entire west coast. This was not the case and because while the two were too busy bickering, Craz schooched over the borders and caught the two off guard and quickly subjugated them with their unorthodox fighting style.”

“Okay, that’s cool and all, but didn’t you imply this was gonna be about Mom in some way?”

“I’m getting there, just gotta establish context, ya know? Besides, it’ll give you a leg up in school.”

“Fine. Then can you elaborate on ‘unorthodox’?”

“From what I’ve been told, Craz would use flour to blind people, dump boiling oil on large groups, and they even created this mixture that ate away any metal it touched!”

“Huh.”

...

“Wait, isn’t that what we do to fry chicken?”

...

“Huh, no wonder everyone was caught off guard. ‘Course, nobody wanted to challenge ‘em and lose in the first place, for obvious reasons.

Anyways, going further down the rabbit hole, monsters prior to the takeover had lived in relative peace and had an extremely large population, right? You know what happens when monsters intermingle?”

“‘They make abominations,’ right?”

“Well, yes, but that’s what they tell you about 1st or 2nd generations of intermingling. But what about 5th or 20th?”

“I dunno.”

“See, according to my ancestors, two things would happen. Either A, they become an actual abomination, like a pound of writhing flesh and limbs, or B, they become a mimic.

“Now, mimics are terrifying, being able to look however they please. With the constant fighting between humans and monsters, having spies was integral, but it was really hard to pull off for humans than monsters.

“Rounding back, when the Craz invaded, Atou actually almost decided to let it play out because of one thing. The Craz could tell the difference between a mimic and a human. Smell and taste different. Of course, in the end, they decided to work with Mansa instead, horror outweighing paranoia.

“Skipping to after the successful Rebellion, the humans had offered a deal with Craz. They’ll leave them alone to their isolated peninsula if the help weed out the rest of the mimics among them. Craz, with no more room to disagree, happily took what they could to fortify themselves and sealed the deal that has lasted to this day.

“Alright, that’s it. Whadya think? Cool story, eh?”

“I still don’t get how this applies to Mom.”

“Well, see, I’m trying to explain to you why your mom should stop being a racist prick.”

“Your wife tried to eat her!”

“Nonsense. Amber didn’t even get hurt!”

“Anna, I’m back!”

...

“Are you arguing with a child?”

“That just means she deserves an adult respect.”

“That, or you’re being a baby.”

“Hah! Elmer, losing to a child! Good work, honey!”

“Well, if your all done here, get out!”

“Yeah, yeah. Anna, go on.

“And Elmer, stop talking about me. Someone’s going to get the wrong idea, jerkwad.”

Elmer rolled his eyes as she left.

“I know the deal, jerkwad.” He mumbled.

[roraruu]

The Cleric’s Path

The path of a cleric is not an easy one to walk. Especially when you’re in love with your best friend.

TW: death and vomit.

---

Faye’s staff is heavy in her hands, like a log of lumber that splinters and marks her palms. Her fingers are weakly curved around it, barely holding the holy item, it’s bottom scratching against the dirt ground that’s rife with infection. 

Silque, who had been restraining the patient, removes her grasp from the body. She lets go and wraps a clean sheet up and over the body. She says the Mother’s prayer for the departed and a quiet, “as Mila wills it” under her breath. Her face is sad, solemn, but shows no sense of tears. Faye senses that she’s used to this sight. 

Faye, however, has never seen such carnage. Blood is everywhere, marking the floor, the cot where he’d lain, their white holy robes. She didn’t know that one person could hold so much crimson liquid. She stares at the mess on her long white skirt, marking her shaking hands with stains. The tent will need a good cleaning, with the sheets washed in the river, maybe even left to soak. Throwing them out will be a waste, especially since they’re good quality and warm and they will be close to Rigel soon.

Silque’s hands unclasp from prayer, her head poking out the tent flaps to call for whoever is out there. It’s been so long, she can’t remember who’s been posted to watch for trouble. Silque’s voice is solemn and soft, asking whoever is out there to fetch the elder members of the Deliverance, probably to dispose of the body.

Faye stands, frozen. Now is not the time to freeze up, but she can’t help but stop moving. Her thoughts are plagued of how many times she’ll be standing in this tent, smeared with blood and cold like ice.

He was a child, no older than Kliff. Her patient was a young boy who had taught the stray arrows of a Rigelian soldier; his own people killed him. And they’d left him there to die. 

She had thought she could save him, pull him back from the ethereal clutches of death, restore the rosiness to his cheeks and return breath to his lungs. She’d pulled so many back from death. Grabbed them by the collar as Mila went to take them, and pulled them back to the living with her hands. Yet, this one slipped through the cracks of her fingers, and the only thing that she’s caught is blood and tears.

The edge of Silque’s veil sways as she moves back into the tent. Her eyes catch Faye’s blank gaze and fill with a pitiful familiarity, as if she’s seen that lifeless gaze before. The elder cleric takes her bloodied hands and puts a cool cloth to them, taking away blood that crumbles and flakes. Her frazzled plaits hang over her as she leans forwards into the cleric’s chest, and sucks back breaths. Tears freeze in her eyes.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” Silque says. Her soothing voice reminds her of Nana when Gray teased her too hard or Kliff scared her with his talk of black magic. A damp hand comes up to pat her back gently in comfort and gesture for her to carry on. It’s wet with blood.

She stays there for a moment, bent into Silque like she’s a child. But Silque is Silque, and she is Faye and they are clerics—the backbone, the lifeline of this army. Healers aren’t to show weakness, but instead to be the rallying strength behind their fellow soldiers. 

So Faye sniffles, rubbing at her nose with the back of her hand. She stands up to full height again. Words are hard to grasp, but she catches one between the cracks of her teeth. “Sorry.” She says. 

They begin to clean up, moving around the body deftly. It’s almost as if there’s a certain nervousness with being near the dead. Faye wonders if Mila’s powers will make him a Terror. She shivers. The thought of having to use black magic to bring him down when she couldn’t even save him with white magic is a painful one. 

“What will we do now?” Faye asks, quiet and unsure. She does not look at cot.

“I’ve asked for Sir Lukas and Forsyth to dig a resting place.” Silque says. Her head is lowered, her veil shadowing her face. “I’ll clean him up.”

Faye has the feeling this is not the first time Silque has had to do such a thing. 

“Faye, you do not have to stay.” She says, stepping over soaked gauze. 

“I feel like I can’t move.” Faye breathes out. Silque holds her blank gaze for a moment. “Is that normal?”

“It’s not unheard of.” Silque says quietly. “But you need food and rest. Stay here.”

Faye sits down on the little stool they have in the corner of the tent. She clenches her hands around her staff. It’s an empty feeling. No anger at herself for not trying hard enough, no sadness at the loss, just emptiness. She feels sour bile climb up her throat and she swallows it back.

She feels so small, so childish. This is her job, right? Her vocation was to be a cleric, even when she was a child, stuffing her little bag with gauze and pins and little bottle of alcohol in case her friends scratched their knees while they played. If she can’t even keep her patients alive, what’s the point? This was the path she chose to walk though. The one of a healer, one who would have to bury those she couldn’t save. Her hands would give and even take. Her Nosferatu spell took life with several simple words and she felt nothing. Yet a youngun dead on the table left her shaking. 

Her eyes linger to the white sheet that begins to puddle with blood. He was killed by his own countrymen. She thinks nervously, reminded of how close they are to Rigel—no, not even that. That this young kid was murdered by his own country. The same could happen to them... The Deliverance was a rebel army, and Zofia was under rule by Desaix...

Her eyes wander down to the mess of her robes. The usually-light pink cloth is now stained red from blood, running from her forearms down her chest, stomach and skirt. She wondered if they’d pulled her robes off a dead cleric. Probably. In a land of sorrow and depravity, clothes were hard to come by.  

The tent flaps sway again as Silque renters with the watchmen. Tobin follows in behind her, his eyes growing wide when Silque steps towards her and pulls the staff from her hands. She’s become the rag doll she’d had in her childhood—the one she’d played cleric with, diagnosing fake ailments and stitching on patches to mend broken bones from play.

“Could you see that she gets something to eat and goes back to our tent?” Silque asks him quietly. Tobin’s eyes linger on the red stains on her robes. “She’s overworked herself.”

Bile rises again. 

He nods quickly. “Yeah, of course.” He says in a soft voice. She knows it well—it’s the one he used with his siblings when they had hurt themselves and he insisted that the pain would subside. She feels like a child, all numb and tired.

“Hey Faye,” he says as quietly as he can. Her eyes meet his and embarrassment attacks her. She’s snotty and teary-eyed and acting like a child who refuses to put on her shoes. “I’m going to take you back, okay?”

She wants to say no, that she can handle this. That she brought this death upon herself. But instead she bows her head and leans into him like she did to Silque. “I’m sorry,” she breathes. She stares at the yellowy paladin’s armour he wears in spots. He must’ve been training still, even at the arc of moonlight. 

“Come on,” he says. He takes the same rag that Silque had in her hands, unfazed by the blood that speckles the fabric. Tobin takes her hands with the same tenderness that one has around a child, wiping away the drying blood with slow, tender strokes. She focuses on him, studying his features. 

He glances up to her, meeting her intent, almost confident gaze. He tilts her chin downwards with just a few fingers. He wipes away the snot, the tears and the smears of blood. His touch is gentle, like she’s made of porcelain and will crack if he applies even the slightest pressure.

He throws the rag into a bucket full of like fabrics. “Let’s go,” Tobin says, pulling her back to him. His hands take hers, pulling her to her feet. She sways and wobbles, his arm snakes around her back to steady her.

She takes an unsteady step, then another, leaning into him for support. His hand is strong against her hip, holding her in place. They push past the tent flaps, the cool night air hitting her face. She realizes how warm she was.

Their pace is slow, also trudging from the tent. She notices Forsyth and Lukas return from the edge of camp, shovels in their hands. 

Her feet drag, suddenly made of lead. The day’s battle, standing for hours, reciting that horrible spell that revives the dead. She can feel sour bile rising in her throat and she stumbles past him, retching several times beside a tree. Her hand grasps the bark for dear life as she pants for a breath. 

There’s a hand on her back, another gently holding her plaits back from her mouth. He’s gentle, kind, comforting her with an embrace that reminds her of a child with snowflakes. She sees now how good of an older brother he is. 

Her hand comes over her mouth to hide embarrassment as she shakes her head, almost magnetizing to him for support. He stumbles back, regains his footing and feels the back of her hands against his chest. He pulls her close for a second, embracing her tightly, tethering her back to the earth. A feeling, even though it’s uncomfortable, brings a flush to her cheeks. It only serves to make her feel worse, that the boy in the cot could have been him. 

“I’m sorry.” He says. It’s quiet, hangs in the air like the rusty stench of blood on her. 

She manages a small “thanks”, out of obligation more than anything. She buries herself in his collar, struggling to catch a breath that she can barely muster. She’s covered in blood, vomit on her breath and headache pounding in her temples. 

“He died.” She says at last. She knows Silque had probably told him what happened; but she needs to hear the words from her own mouth. Their trudging steps stop as they come up to her tent.

He lets a sigh out, pushing the canvas back with his arm. “People die, Faye. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. I didn’t try hard enough.” She says, staring at the ground and her unsteady feet. Her eyes gloss over, tears blurring her vision for a moment. “I took his life.”

“You did all you could. Your hands weren’t meant to take life.” He says quietly. “They give it back and you try to give back what’s gone.”

“I had him in my grasp.” She says, meeting his gaze. Her eyes are red and puffy from tears.

“He slipped through. You can’t save them all.”

“But I’m supposed to.” She says quietly. “That’s my duty, right?”

She buries her face into her knees, her back tiredly rising and falling.

“He was just a kid.” Faye says. “Like us.”

Tobin can’t respond to it, letting the words hang in the air as he continues to peel the orange. He pulls apart the sections and pith, placing it into a sad little pile. He holds a piece out of her. “Come on, eat.” He says.

“I can’t move.” She says, her voice is muffled by her knees. “I’m broken. I’m not good.”

“You are good.” He argues. She feels his hand on her back. “How are you going to heal us when you’re sick and tired?”

“I can’t protect you.” She cries. “I’m not good.”

“Then I’ll do my best to heal you. I’ll do my best to make you better, Faye.” He promises, his voice soft and gentle. His hand moves to her shoulder, lifting her chin. Tears streak her face as she collapses into him, holding him tightly as she can.

She still feels so weak, so tired and numb. But he’s a comfort. His voice, his touch, the impossible promises he offers to her in hopes that she’ll perk up. 

She reaches for a section of the orange, slowly chewing down on it and cringing at the sour taste. She rests against his shoulder, against his uncomfortable armour. Somehow, those few words—make you better—instil comfort in her.

[telnaga]

patch family tree time

DAD: probably a cat we called Sometimes, because he was Sometimes around. stocky brown tabby guy, little bit battlescared

MOM: cat we called momma kitty for obvious reasons. she had a bit of a smudgy siamese pattern and she was very nice to us and let us pet her but she was MEAN to every other cat including patch

VARIOUS SIBLINGS: momma kitty had one litter. my dad took them in once they could be separated from the mom, and adopted all of them out except patch. he also named all of them, except patch, after winnie the pooh characters. the runt was piglet and she was adorable. a daycare took her.

for some reason my dad did all that and decided it was fine if he let patch just be a stray. she lived around our neighborhood and would occasionally be given cat food if the raccoons didn’t get to it first. she fought with her mom and kept getting caught in traps set out for other stray cats to be tagged and released because there was food in them. i would sit outside as a youngun and just pet her for hours. i was the only person she let touch her. my hands would be covered in dirt after i went inside. she would sit out on my dad’s front porch and watch my mom as she pulled in to pick me up. picture this weirdass chunky cat with a half ear and a 3/4 ear staring at you with piercing pale green eyes. i eventually convinced my mom to let me take her home with us

[seawolvesanddragons]

Alternate Avengers Timeline

So my friend and I were wishing the MCU had given us a more "Avengers as a team" storyline and then my hand slipped and this happened:

--tower shenanigans happened slowly following after NYC, but by Thor's return Tony has been living there full time since Malibu literally blew up and was part time there before hand anyway. As soon as he went full time, Bruce moved in.

--they were being called in on smaller scale missions, usually Steve plus the assassins, but often the science bros for their brains if Tony and Bruce agreed to, and even Iron Man when he agreed to.

--Steve is splitting his time between DC and the tower, so is Natasha since she's paired with Steve for most of his missions.

--Clint is almost full time avenger now: SHIELD needed someone in NYC anyway, and he could double with keeping an eye on Tony and Bruce when Natasha was with Steve. Also, he doesn't have a handler anymore since Phil, doesnt want any other, so this was the compromise. He likes it, the guys are cool, NYC missions are interesting, he still gets to go out with Steve and Natasha often, and he's closer to his sister Laura and her two kids (with one more on the way) - her husband died in battle of new York. Avengers excepting Natasha don't know about his sister and her family. He and Natasha have their special understanding. Its left ambiguous so that fans can interpret what they want.

--Winter soldier and dark world happen still as before, but the post credit scene of dark world is the avengers all arriving in London to help after Thor has already solved everything and are just sort of standing around uselessly after an epic entrance. Tony tells him and Jane to stop by the tower and offers Jane a job.

--age of ultron happens as it did but with better understanding between Tony and Steve and also more discussion about threats from space, Tony/Jarvis running surveillance for Bucky. Sam is basically being phased into Avengers. Rhodey is trying to get transferred cause "no way is the winged youngun beating me to the group" and Peitro lives dammit. Hulk still goes because I liked him in Ragnarok. So off to space, sorry bud.

--I think all the standalone movies can go as planned up till CW...civil war goes by and large the same, with key differences: Tony and Steve argue about the accords yes, but this avengers is far more cohesive then our timeline; they've been living and working together since 2013. The UN is withholding aid and info that could help the group learn more about the threat of whoever was behind Loki and Thor's vision from Age of Ultron (Thor keeps in touch with them; he and Jane still break up). Tony, who prioritizes this threat, is willing to sign the line in order to get the information. ("Its not like we can't just break the rules later Steve" ) but Steve thinks their earth based missions are more imprtant right now because theyre here, in the present, and the accords would tie their hands from doing any real good. They're trying to figure out a compromise, and yes tempers are running a bit short when the attack happens and Bucky is framed. Tony and the others immediately tell Steve to go (Natasha and Sam go with him as back up) while the others try to stall the military and un from arresting Bucky. A new deal is put on the table: sign the accords, and Bucky (and Wanda who is being unfairly demonized by them) get full immumity. Tony thinks this might work. He tries to get in touch with Steve to talk it through, but some black ops break through his and the other Avengers defensivsss and Tchallas attack keeps him from getting in contact. Steve, Sam, Bucky are arrested (Natasha gets away) and taken to SHIELD where they keep them separated from the team, and tell them Tony and the others already signed the accords. Steve doesn't believe them. What's his name is pulling his shit with Bucky, and before he can confer with Tony and the others, Steve and Sam have to break out, stop Bucky, and go on the run again. Before the leave, Steve sees Tony in an office with Ross - just enough to plant a seed of doubt in his mind.

They decide they need to go after whoever framed Bucky. Sam asks if they need to get the whole team in, but Steve knows getting this info on the Space Threat is also important. They can't sever all ties. Let Ross think the group was split and have Tony and Natasha try to work their magic on Ross to get the info. Discreet messages are sent out. We see Clint slipping away from Natasha , Rhodey, and Tony's meeting with Ross. Vision is distracted from watching Wanda (still placed on house arrest, which everyone is protesting. Also pietro has been off doing his own thing, travelling the world and hoping to find Hulk.) Sam tells Steve about Scott and a few strings are pulled by Hill to get him there. The mission: destroy the other super soldiers Bucky talked about. Ross catches wind and declares them vigilantes and orders the rest of the avengers after them. After a lot of arguing and Tony almost blowing Ross to bits (no one has forgotten what he did to Bruce) the final punch is pulled: full Immunity for the rogue Avengers, the info on Space threats, and the location of Bruce's Quinn jet. Just sign The accords. Its the only way out of this nightmare. The last one gets Tony. He wants Bruce back. They need to get to Steve and work this out, and they can't leave until someone signs the accords. So he does. Rhodes and Natasha follow suit. The first thing Ross does is order them to stop the others and bring them in. Tony remimds him of the deal and declares they have 36 hours to get Steve and the others to come in and work this out. After that, the accords can go into full affect. Ross gets even by telling Tchalla where Bucky is, and Tony, Vision and co have to go there to keep him from killing Bucky. Tony brings Peter because a) he needs a wild card, especially one whose webbing can get people to pause and b) he wants the kid associated with the Avengers before Ross goes after him. Peitro also stops by and goes with them to meet the others.

--the airport scene is a mess of communication - Steve needs to GO, before the super soldiers are awakened, but Tony needs him to LISTEN because things are spiraling. Tchalla gets tired of the talk and attacks, causing Wanda to hold him off. Vision incapacitates Wanda. Suddenly all hell breaks loose, and a full on fight breaks out. The avengers are torn into two. Tchalla is the one to nearly stop Bucky and Steve from escaping, until Tony knocks him out from behind. "Think Ross bought that whole pantomime?" "Seemed pretty real to me. You hit hard Tony" "walk it off Cap. You said something about more Russian evil you before?" "Yeah. You'll keep Ross off our back?" "Do my best. Good luck Cap." "I'll need it. And Tony? Thanks."

--Rhodey is injured trying to protect Wanda from Ross's men when they suddenly appear. Sam saves him.

--Tony and "Team Iron Man" are horrified by the underground prison. The plan is to break them out. Natasha tells Tony to go help Cap under the guise of trying to arrest him, because "you can't be here when they escape." Tony goes. Tchalla follows. The reveal happens and at first Tony is angry, is lashing out, and Steve is confused to (because Steve didn't know in this timeline) and torn between who to help, and Bucky just...lets the attack come. Steve tries to intervene but Tony blasts him to the side. Finally, Tony is ready for the killing blow - and he can't. He knows this face, it's been in his database for years now, searching for Steve's long lost best friend. He sees Rhodey in his mind, falling out of the sky. He hears his mother's voice. And he tears the gauntlet off, screaming in pain and heartache.

--tchalla and villain dudes scene stays.

--Tony and Steve finally get to talk everything out and figure out the best course of action. There's no way around it: the team has to split. They needed to be ready to fight the oncoming war as well as put out the current fires. Besides, half of the Avengers have been tossed in prison. So Steve will take his team (minus Scott, who ops for house arrest) and they'll go vigilante. Meanwhile, Tony and his folk stay on as the remaining official Avengers, and get the info they need. Steve gives Tony a burner phone, tells him to call if he ever needs help.

--Natasha has broken the others out of prison. Vision, Rhodey, Peitro are staying with Tony as Avengers. Steve, Sam, Natasha are going rogue, with Tchalla offering them Wakanda as an operating base if,needed. He also takes Bucky to help rehabilitate. Clint is taking Wanda to recover at his sisters farm, which Ross doesn't know about, to give her time to heal. When shes ready, they would join whoever needed them. Scott gives Tony Hank's contact to reach other and work together if needed.

--so basically the media, public, and Ross think the Avengers are fueding but really Tony and Steve are playing war on both sides.

--standalone movies since then stay the same, but Thor is pan, slightly more aware of the earth going ons, and tells Bruce about some of them in Ragnaroc. Stephan strange is ace. Also they expain why the mystic one has the time stone, and also throwaway line about how the Avengers would be better equipped for this till they broke up,

--Tony constantly trolls Ross

--Peter knows that secretly they all get along, but has to pretend like it really is Steve v Tony like every other civilian thinks it is. Ned is overjoyed when he learns otherwise.

--Spider-Man is also just full of subtle nods to the con the avengers are pulling on Ross. The party Tony is at when he rescues Peter shows Natasha and Sam disguised in the background. Peter gets a postcard from Brooklyn he puts on his wall post the ferry incident.

--thor calms Hulk down at some point in Ragnarok by referencing times in the tower when they all lived together.

--Infinity war comes. Hulk arrives with his news, Tony is literally about to call Steve when the attack happens. That's it, thwy're seperated for the rest of the fight once Tony gets on the spaceship.

-when Tony disappears, Rhodey and Hulk ask Peitro to tell them where Vision is with Wanda, because that secret was fooling no one. Also, the rogue Avengers have been secretly half living in the tower again for months now between missions; Peter knows each of them by name. Ross suspects but can't prove anything and he hates it)

--Avengers reunited, sans Tony and Thor!

--Tony's been compiling info on this new threat post civil war, as well as working on new tech to sneak to the rogues when he can; this all comes out as they head from NY to Wakanda. Scott doesn't have a role, as in the original, but Clint is there and he goes. Or maybe Clint somehow ends up in space after they are fighting off the ones attacking Wanda and Vision and is just wondering how he gets in progressively stupider situations with just a bow and arrows. Well, time to hide until he can figure out an escape plan. Somehow this ends with him ending up on the same place as Tony, Strange, Peter, and the Guardians, in the middle of their fight. It's kind of hilarious.

--Tony's dislike of Strange is explained as Tony knowing Strange refused to work on Rhodey's legs because it was too simple and boring a case. Strange has to prove he's changed.

--(btw, Avengers didn't interfere with Strange because the rogues where off on their own mission already and NY Avengers couldn't because of the accords. Had the ancient one not assured them long before they could hold their own, they would have broken the accords once they knew something hanky was going on. In Black Panther, the group just left and didn't really hear about it. You get a few references to their stay though. )

--the rest of Infinity War stays the same.

--Clint's niece stays alive and Natasha gets her; she's there when the spaceship returns and she is ready to fight Thanos

--time skip of six, eight months before they figure out how to reverse the snap. Pepper is pregnant. Harley is there because his family got snapped and Tony just keeps adopting kids ok? Movie generally stays the same but Natasha doesn't die, Tony comes up with literally any other plan and therefore doesn't die, Steve fucking stays

--back to everyone living in the tower together, the accords are ripped up and everyone gets to be an avenger again; Thor decides to travel with the guardians for a while to find a new planet for Asgard as Valkarie runs shit. Theres a shot near the end showing Peter, Clint's neice, Harley (who is working on a prototype iron man suit) and Shuri talking with Cassie hanging on to every word, foreshadowing the young Avengers.

-

[drowsy-quill]

Hello and happy Saturday! For each week in this month of Camp Nano, I will post a little snippet of The Temple Seeker! Below the cut is the entire first chapter, entitled The Wild Mother, I hope y’all will enjoy!

Current Word count: 5,262

Words remaining: 6,738

In the 105th year of the Age of Steam, there was a child. This child was so unlike any child born before, for she had been touched by Fate herself, her soul tied to an Age long past from her world of clockwork and steam, tangled in the fates of the gods of her realm- the gods of Na’asi. This connection, this tug on an invisible string, pulled the child to the edge of the Elder Forest, it’s ancient trees stretching high, high into the sky. She dared not step foot into the lush forest, for fear of her mother’s wrath and of the legends that were oft told to her about the Forest. ‘Never step foot in the Faery Forest, for you shall never return. There are spirits and sprites who love the taste of younguns’ that wander the woods.’ The girls would shriek and the boys would glance warily at the green on the horizon, peeking over the copper and bronze rooftops, although there would be boys that shrieked and girls who were silent- But Gwenivere, for that was the child’s name, never believed those tales. She knew in her heart of hearts that there was something in the forest, but nothing even remotely malevolent- it was more like a true mother’s embrace. Nothing like the cold detachment that Gwenivere received from her own, but like the warm smiles that the Bookkeeper would give her as she curled up in a forgotten corner, surrounded by tomes that stacked higher than her small form.

She resisted the Fate-tug, that is, until one morning when her mother fell deep into one of her raging storms and small Gwenivere fled towards the outstretched arms of the trees, unwavering and unfaltering and did not stop until she was deep inside its walls. She came to a halt then, when the roots curled overhead, and the leaves blocked out the sky, with multi-colored wildflowers forming a carpet under her feet. It’s beautiful, she thought, lost in the grand magnificence of it all. A twig snapped in front of her and she nearly bolted from fright before she saw the cause- a massive elk, antlers dripping with moss and brilliantly colored flowers.

Gwenivere took a few shivering steps towards the creature, and it mirrored her actions with ancient grace. The two stood not far from each other then, close enough to touch, and Gwenivere reached out a small hand towards its soft nose, stopping a breath away- letting the beautiful beast chose whether or not it wanted to trust the child. It extended its neck,  nuzzling its velvety nose into her palm. She gave out a silent laugh and hugged its large neck. It shook its head, breaking away from her grasp before kneeling down onto the ground, giving her a slight nod. Gwenivere tentatively stepped around the creature and gingerly sat upon its broad back. It stood and she clung to its great antlers, once the elk felt she was secure it begins to run. Through the woods- faster and faster and faster and faster and faster, the landscape turning into blurs if color before it can work a sudden but gentle halt at the foot of a great temple, stone slightly crumbling and covered in greenery. Gwenivere dismounted the beast and mouthed her thanks as the fate-tug pulled her through the grand arch and into the very heart of the temple. It was quite dark, the openings overhead overrun with years and years of growth, and a massive ancient withering oak sprawled across the open chamber.

Young Gwenivere began to climb higher and higher up the great tree’s branches until she was at the iron gridded opening.  The branches seemed almost to stretch themselves up, giving her aide as she ripped free the coverings of the skylight, and the grate came crashing and clattering down the trunk, nearly hitting Gwenivere’s head on its path. Sunlight poured in, giving life and light to the once dark chamber, illuminating a long-untended hearth that stood proud in the corner. She scampered back down as she feels that tug in her gut once more, pulling hard and strong towards the hearth. The sight of the long unlit stone bowl brought tears to the young girl’s eyes- exactly for what or why she did not know- but as she laid her small slender hands on the rim, a bright warm flame blossomed under her touch, whorling and shifting into a cheery blaze in the center. She fell back, startled, but the flame did not go out. 

With the hearth lit, the temple seemed to come to life- withered plants arose from their decay, she could hear a fountain come to life and the chirps of long flown birds in the sanctuary. She smiled a smile in the way only the young can- full of wonder and joy and wholly indescribable. As she turned to leave, she felt the presence of a warm hand on her shoulder and a warm motherly voice spoke in her ear, “Thank you, my child. Let this be your place of refuge and rest. You will be safe here, whenever you seek it.” 

Gwenivere turned to see who spoke but there was nothing but an ash-colored cloak made of the softest material Gwenivere had ever felt, and a crown made of wildflowers and twigs. She delighted in the soft comfort of the cloak- it felt like the embrace of a loving mother, or at least, that is what Gwenivere imagined one such embrace to feel like. 

When she left, that great elk was there waiting to escort her back to the edge of the forest. As they sped, Gwenivere thought not of the temple, or of the voice- but of her mother’s wrath when she returned home. It was well into the evening, only the finest shred of the sun still visible behind the mountains, far past when she was supposed to return. 

She clumsily leaped off the beast and gave it a quick kiss on its velvet nose before rushing to her home, which was- thankfully- not too far from the edge of the forest. As she drew nearer she could hear the thunderous snores of her sleeping mother and she thanked the stars as she hurried inside quietly as to not wake her. 

As she flopped down on her little straw cot, she told herself that she would visit the Bookkeeper that next morning and tell her about what she experienced. The Bookkeeper would know what, who, that time belonged to. And visit the Bookkeeper she did, her mother did not notice her leave, still slumbering heavily in her chamber. Gwenivere skipped to the library, her new cloak fanning out behind her, rippling in the wind. The grand oak doors were propped open, welcoming any and all into its halls, and Gwenivere made sure to greet the ancient inert stone golems that stood guard along the various branching-offs of the main hall. They had been there for as long as the library had existed- which was well before the Age of Steam- they no longer were filled with protective magics, but they still served the purpose of connecting to that age long forgotten. 

The Bookkeeper, an assi in their middle ages, smiled kindly at Gwenivere as she passed their desk, waving her over as they pulled out a wrapped parcel from under their desk.

“Splendid morning, isn’t it?” They smiled, Gwenivere nodded in return. “I have a little something for you- my husband made some bread for you. It’ll help you grow big and strong- plenty of nuts and herbs. Go ahead and sit back here and eat, and I can pull some books out for you.” Gwenivere nodded enthusiastically and gratefully accepted the still-warm loaf. As she tore into it, sitting comfortably underneath their desk, they flitted around the shelves, accruing a small pile of tomes for her.

By the time the Bookkeeper came back, not even a single crumb was left and Gwenivere had a blissfully content smile on her face. The Bookkeeper sat down next to her, their frame just barely squeezing in the remaining room under the desk. 

“Here, this one is about how plants turn sunlight into sugar to eat, this one is about how certain animals talk to each other, and these two are about our constellations. What do you think?” Gwenivere shook her head and shyly pointed towards the door to the room that held the scrolls from the Age of Ancients.

“Oh? Alright, I don’t see why not. You’re a careful one, yes?” Gwenivere nodded enthusiastically and practically leaped from under the desk. The Bookkeeper smiled and unhooked a rather large ring of patina brass keys. They almost reverently unlocked the door and motioned for Gwenivere to explore. “Please be very careful, I trust you okay? Just come back when you’re through or if you need any help.” Gwenivere made an X over her heart and the Bookkeeper turned to let her explore. 

She gingerly piled a stack of dust scrolls into her arms and found a large window bench to read on, and as morning turned to afternoon and into the evening she read. She read about gods who cared so much for the world they created and their creations loving them right back. She read of daring heroes and true love and bloody wars and astounding friendships. It was only as she noticed she had nearly no light to read by that she pried herself away from the scrolls and made her way back home, making sure to hug the Bookkeeper extra tight as she left. 

Her mother, as usual, did not even notice that she came home. She just stared with her blank eyes at the wall, so lovingly painted like a meadow of wildflowers, barely even blinking. It had been three years since Gwenivere’s father died, she still had nightmares of that night, of masked men coming into the house, yelling about money and jewelry. She remembered rough hands and her utter inability to scream. She remembered the blood, so so so much blood, some, the men’s, some, her father’s, and some hers. She remembered her mother changing, changing into a cold-hearted, uncaring monster- into a shell of the woman she was before. 

It was time, in school, for the children to sit around and tell each other, and the teachers, what they were reading and what they had learned. Gwenivere, like each year before, sat quietly in the back, listening to the other children speak. In the schoolyard, the taunts flowed more freely, taunts of her mother, her father, her muteness, her clothes- any bit of information they knew they hurled it right back towards her. 

It had been happening for years, but all of a sudden things became quite clear for her- she needn’t withstand their abuse, their jeers, any of it. And so that was her last day at school. Her mother did not notice, and the Bookkeeper was more than willing to continue Gwenivere’s education themself. Gwenivere was happy, she was happy to learn from the thousands of tomes and scrolls, she was happy learning how to read and listen in languages new and old, and she felt at peace, as if this is what she was meant to be doing. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this! Not all Saturday Snippets will be this long I promise! Anyways,  happy trails and keep writing!

[bibliophilicwitch]

Cider, maize, and cocoa

cider - a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy?

actually i like less food as an adult than i did as a kid. i used to like liver and onions and had it for the first time in ages a month or so ago only to be disappointed. grew up with sauerkraut. ate limp spinach out of a can microwaved with butter. i’m getting a touch more picky as i get older though i couldn’t tell you something i actually don’t like at all.

maize - share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street.

last year at some point i was walking home from the corner gas station and a guy and girl about my age were walking in the opposite direction and he was very much brandishing a dildo like a wand or something.

this is out of the norm when you consider I do not live in a college town and we are rural and conservative enough that this is just not something you do.

I laughed

cocoa - if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have?

being a brown eyed and brown haired girl i always fantasized about this as a youngun - mostly i wished i had rich red auburn hair. these days i’m pretty fine with what i have. i HAVE noticed a few grey hairs and announced to a friend that once they start to get truly noticeable i’m just going to have my hair dyed silver grey. heck yeah. if i could color, cut, and style my hair and then wake up a week or so later back to normal i would go fuckin crazy though. one must remember i was goth and punk in high school. i fact my tiny ass school had no other goths and i was “the one”. good times.