#the civil engineering in my city is something

[thedarling]

12:12 p.m. Um. Yeah, or you could just not live downtown. Better yet, they could stop building these multi-level high-rises in areas that were already mere feet above water. Idiots. The ocean is right there. Always has been.

12:25 p.m. Papa told me I have to be 'agradable' when I see him, but I only aspire to be 'amable'. He gets what he gets.

[rubythecrimsonwriter]

As someone who has lived in the south where the water trough is anywhere from mildly annoying to actively terrifying, who has lived on a fairly decently sized island where it is indeed absolutely terrifying to be cut off from the mainland suddenly with little to no help from the government for an extended period of time--

After No Man's Land and all the issues that arose then, I'd like to propose the new way of interring their dead would be mausoleums. Possibly especially with Gotham canonically existing on a system of caves. An island made of caves on the East Coast that gets battered by hurricanes almost every year is just asking to get sunk a la Atlantis but its fucking Gotham and i think the Gothamites would raise it from the sea floor again out of sheer spite.

But with mausoleums you:

Dont have your son crawling six feet through packed dirt after inexplicably coming back to life

Dont have long buried coffins and corpses getting flooded/shaken/otherwise disturbed and shunted into the water system/streets/underground reservoirs (or Lazarus Pits, since there's one of those down there too, as if Gotham didn't have enough things wrong with it)

Continues the Gotham aesthetic

Have more places for various characters to have a private mental breakdown in

Have more places for various characters to find ominous warnings etched or graffiti'd on the walls

Have more places for things much older than the mausoleums have been En Vogue™ for to inexplicably appear and send shivers down the spine

The Gothamites are very firm about not really being part of the US. The US kind of looks at the South like we're really fucking strange, and the South looks at New Orleans like they've taken the South and concentrated it, carbonated it, and shook it really hard.

I want the same vibes for Gotham. This is their home. They are weird and stubborn to a fault and everything is on fire and the government is corrupt and the people aren't always good but nobody else understands. No one else ever could. Who else has seen the lights for rescue appear on the horizon only to see the light of death on the waters, ensuring no help would ever come? They are resourceful and violent and resentful but the gods won't help you if you cross one of their own.

[ak319]

Lovesick Village Boy x Fem civil servant reader

《Beloved's Veil》

(Warnings: will have themes like possession/horror and abuse) This story will have more than two parts, so enjoy🌼

"Do you like it this far, Ma'am? The village?" Odai’s voice cut through the soft hum of the engine, drawing your gaze to the rearview mirror where his eyes met yours.

"Yes, it’s quite peaceful. I've never lived in a village before."

"You’ll love it, Ma’am. It’s indeed peaceful, which is good for someone like you who enjoys working in a calm environment. The beauty here adds more to the experience." He smiled, his eyes glinting with nostalgia. "This is my second time here. I once drove the Commissioner on a visit. The people are kind too."

"Mhm." You nodded thoughtfully as Odai slowed the car down on a narrow street. Your eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings--quaint homes with old wooden doors, vibrant rugs hung on balconies, and villagers watching the car with curious eyes. "But even the smallest villages have their dark sides. Crime, hardship--they exist everywhere."

"Indeed, ma'am." Odai's voice took on a more serious edge. "I kept news of your arrival under wraps, which is why no one's gathering around our cars." You glanced back at the security vehicle trailing behind, steady and unobtrusive.

"Good," you mused, lighting a cigarette, the flicker of the flame momentarily catching your gaze. "Maybe they are not happy to get a new DC so soon." You chuckled softly, exhaling smoke into the still air. "And what about the other task I gave you? Judging by those wary glances, it might be working."

"Yes, ma'am. I handled it." You'd instructed Odai to spread rumors before your arrival, whispers about your uncompromising nature--how you were a stickler for the law, an officer with unshakeable honesty. It was a strategy you'd wanted to test, a way to plant seeds before even setting foot in Al Razeh. Spread your roots before you even step into the territory, you thought with quiet satisfaction, watching the smoke curl and dissipate into the air, like invisible tendrils laying claim to the village before you.

You, (Y/n), had just been appointed as the Deputy Commissioner, DC, of a district called Kamandik, and your new office--and residence--was nestled in the village of Al-Razeh. It was a quiet place, far from the hustle of the city, a change you welcomed after the long, exhausting journey. Coming from a distinguished family, it almost seemed like destiny had led you to this path. Your lineage boasted army officers, doctors, and civil servants. Your father, a retired military man, had served with distinction, and your mother, an army doctor, had met him through her service. It was that kind of background that had built your discipline and drive.

"Is the Assistant Commissioner going to be there?" you asked, gazing out at the unfamiliar landscape as you approached.

"He will arrive tomorrow, ma'am. His flight got cancelled for today." Odai replied.

Good. You felt a sense of relief. One less formality for today. You leaned back into the seat, letting the exhaustion sink in, already imagining the stillness of your new residence awaiting you.

═════ ◈ ═════

"But I want you to work with me, my son," the old man said, his shivering hands reaching out as his weak, but soft gaze fell upon his youngest. Habib--the kindest, gentlest, and most beautiful of his sons--stood there, looking down at his father. His pale green eyes and thin, golden locks were a wonder, something the village marveled at since his birth. His father, prayed each day that God would grant his son a life as beautiful as he appeared, for Habib had known nothing but pain because of this beauty--this curse.

"Baba, you know they don’t want me to," Habib began, his voice barely a whisper, catching in his throat before it could fully form. The familiar heaviness of his situation silenced him completely as soon as his oldest brother, Basim, strode into the room with an air of command.

"Baba, how many times must we go through this?" Basim’s voice cut through the room like a blade. "I told you--he is not working, and that’s final!"

"He is going to work in the store I go to! With me! He has to do something."

"Him? Are you serious? " Kadir despite being not having the desired strength at the moment stood up from the bed and Habib immediately supported him, his own eyes casted down in his brother's presence.

"Basim, you seem to forget that I am still alive," Kadir said, his voice low but firm, "and I am very much capable of making decisions for this house. Do you hear me?" His words hung in the air, heavy with authority, and Basim, eyes flickering between his father and younger brother, clenched his jaw before storming out of the room, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Habib finally exhaled the breath he'd been holding, his shoulders sagging slightly. "Don’t be afraid, son," Kadir soothed, resting a reassuring hand on his son's cheek. "I’m here for you. I will always be."

Habib nodded, pressing his lips softly to his father’s weathered fingers. "Just follow what I tell you in the shop," Kadir continued, "and you’ll learn the work in no time."

Outwardly, the Jafaris appeared to be a humble, respectable family--Kadir himself was a respected elder in the community, with his two eldest sons already married. But beneath the surface, the Jafaris were infamous. And though it seemed like many things, perhaps the real reason for the rumors that clung to them like shadows was just one thing--Habib.

Habib woke with a start, his heart pounding as he scanned his dimly lit bedroom. The narrow terrace window was open, a detail he couldn't remember opening himself. No, wait, he had opened it earlier, hadn't he? The memory was foggy. He looked down at the book in his lap, the dim light from the terrace lamp casting strange shadows around the room. Quickly, he turned on the side lamp, its bright light offering a small sense of relief.

He ran his fingers over the pages of The Book of Kings. The words seemed to mirror his own sorrow: “On my heart, this pain and sorrow are so abundant, in mourning for you, the assault on my anxious heart is endless. O heart, you are with me, but you constantly mourn the lost beloved. Every day, we remember you, and at night, we weep for your love, as if my heart cannot reach any solace from your absence and this pain has no remedy.”

Indeed, there seemed to be no remedy. The ache and torment felt as fresh and unyielding as if it had happened just yesterday.

His footsteps were light as he stepped out of his chamber, and with a whispered prayer, he made his way to the kitchen. It was 10 p.m., and most people had gone to bed by 9. He had missed dinner once again. The worried faces of his parents flashed through his mind, contrasting sharply with the indifferent expressions of his brothers.

As he approached the dishes stacked in a corner--likely left there by his mother--he began to prepare his plate. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, signaling someone's presence behind him.

'No, please-'

The words of the cleric, Nazim, echoed in his mind: “Remember, my boy, never be afraid of anything, for these things feed on fear.” Despite the reminder, he remained paralyzed, his fear not only of the unknown but also of the possibility that it might be Basim, who wasn’t pleased with what Father had said earlier.

The plate in his hand nearly dropped when the person touched him. "God!--Uncle, it’s me, it’s me, Rahim. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you...""

"It’s alright, Rahim." The teenager, Rahim, was the son of Basim, his oldest nephew, and also his best friend. "Why are you awake?"

Rahim smirked and leaned against the counter. "Just couldn’t sleep," his playful demeanor shifted to concern as he took in his young uncle’s appearance. "Uncle... were you sick again?"

"I’m always sick, nothing to worry about."

"You should take better care of yourself. I worry about you. And..." Rahim hesitated, "I doubt that--"

"Rahim, I’m fine. And no, it’s gone. Long gone. Believe me. I’m just... going through some side effects."

"Wow, all that pain and now side effects too, even when you’re free from it? It’s been years! You should see an actual doctor." Rahim was just a toddler when his uncle was afflicted in a way he never imagined possible. Yet, he remembered it all like a vivid nightmare.

"Rahim, please. I am fine," Habib reassured, his voice soft but firm, trying to mask the lingering shadows of his past.

The boy decided to drop the topic for now with an unconvinced sigh. "I brought those pastries you love."

"Why?! You know Brother Basim--"

"Uncle, please. It’s my pocket money, and I get to buy whatever I want for whoever I want." Rahim smiled, and Habib couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound light and comforting in the quiet of the kitchen.

Rahim’s grin widened. He always loved seeing his uncle, who was more like an older brother to him, happy. "Shall I make tea?"

"No, I'll make it. I don't want you waking the whole house."

The two chatted softly, the kitchen door closed to keep their voices from carrying. Basim would be furious if he knew they were up.

"Oh, how could I forget to tell you! When me and my friends were playing, we saw the new DC’s car. She’s here. And from what we’ve heard, she’s very upright and strict too. Which I think is a good thing, considering the previous one was lousy as hell."

"We’ve never had a female DC before, have we?" Habib wondered aloud, trying to recall if he had ever seen any officer around or remembered the last DC’s name.

"Um, no. And do you know her bungalow walls are so high, you can’t see past them! Imagine how cool it must be from the inside. Plus, all the cameras and stuff, which I heard they’re going to put around the village too."

"Mhm, nice." Habib nodded, his smile fading slightly as he sipped his tea. The conversation about the new DC and the changes in the village did little to distract him from the quiet sadness that lingered in his heart.

Part II

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

A Southern Myth

Summary: Leon had been sent to a rural place in Texas where sightings of a BOW were reported. But upon entering the forgotten town, he began to get entangled in a horrific twist of events involving a religious cult. Things escalate and now he must survive with the help of a girl who doesn’t believe in anything.

Warning: horror. religion. mentions of blood and gore like description. cult activities. violence. swearing. reader is fem. there is no romance/smut.

A/N: omg I’ve never written something like this before🙈 CAPCOM should hire me for script writing.

“You believe you're on the righteous path, you believe you're a force for good, but you're not.” - John Seed, Far Cry 5

“Come forth, my children. Let your souls become pure under His guidance.”

“Let us rejoice in purity as we bathe in this sacrifice. Let us become one for Him, for He has been waiting.”

-

The sound of the dirt rolling under the car’s wheel made the road feel bumpy for Leon. The heat was intense the further he went into the rural side of what was once a town named Giligand in Texas. Once a lively town that had become a ghost town.

Until a group of religious settlers took over the desert land and claimed it their new home. They built their own society, far away from modern civilization. The orange and dried plants surrounding the new town as the wind blew hard. The sun intensified and caused Leon’s sweat to trickle down his body.

Right in the middle of nowhere is where he got sent- yet again. The D.S.O has assigned Leon a more haunting mission. The government division found in Texas’ own legislation had found weird signs of an unknown entity roaming around the dried up land. He found himself standing in front of an agent in Austin telling him about this entity.

“Our homeland security experts have raised a few concerns regarding a secluded town in Western Texas. They believe that this could be related to the virus incident that presided in other countries,” The senior agent stated as he gave Leon a stack of papers containing pictures and files of the sightings.

The abnormality was big and round. But its eyes were the only visible thing in the dark of night. Pure white eyes protruding from the creature’s face, sending a wave of uneasiness to Leon. The monster seemed tall, definitely more than 9 feet tall. Leon couldn’t tell exactly what it was but he guessed there were some sort of horns coming out the creature’s skull.

Leon had finally reached the town, being greeted by a yellowing sign. The sign written in Times New Roman “Welcome to Cunstacin” on the bottom “previously Giligand” and then near the border edge “Pop. 189”

Such a small town for a big state. Leon didn’t think much of it. He wasn’t aware of how much his life would change the minute he passed the sign without seeing those pure white eyes watching him from behind his truck.

The town itself was small but seemed very busy. The roads were flat with gravel. The houses were old and barren but still usable. He wondered how people were able to make a living of such an abandoned place. As he neared a motel, he was met with the leader of the town. A tall man of tan skin, hair long enough to reach his shoulders as his beard grew to his neck.

He approached Leon’s truck and greeted him with a polite smile, “Ah, you must be the new guy they sent here.” Leon nodded as he turned off the engine and jumped out of his car.

The man walked up to Leon and patted his shoulder, “Hope the road wasn’t too tedious. The distance between here and the city is pretty stretchy.” The man chuckled and looked behind him where two young women stood. “Go fetch his luggage and take it to his room. We don’t want to make our esteemed guest work too much now, don’t we?”

The two ladies nodded and walked over to the trunk of Leon’s truck. They both carried the brown and thick luggages to the motel, their silhouettes getting lost in between the halls.

The man then gently forced Leon to walk with him, “I’m sure you’re tired and you might want to get some rest, but there’s an afternoon mass the town wishes for you to attend. The people want to meet the new guy in town,” the man laughed again and gave Leon’s chest a lazy slap.

“I appreciate the offer but I’m here for work- strictly for work,” Leon replied as he looked at the man and then around the area.

The man chuckled and took his hand away from Leon’s shoulder, “No worries- I get it. You’re a busy guy and your work ethic is commendable,” the man leaned towards Leon’s ear to whisper, “But if you find yourself in need of His words, do come to the church behind the Great Willowed Forest.” The man leaned back and gave him another toothy smile, almost unsettling. “Make yourself at home.” That was the last thing the man said before he began to walk away.

Leon exhaled through his nose. He already got the creeps from the background check he ran on the town but meeting the people in person made the whole experience much more precarious.

He began to walk along the town, trying to find any other civilians. He saw an older woman with two children outside a two story building.

“Excuse me,” Leon said as he jogged to the three individuals. One of the children, a little boy with a bowl haircut pointed to Leon and exclaimed, “Look, meemaw- ‘tis the new guy!” The older woman slapped the little boy’s head, “Pointing at strangers is rude.”

Leon cleared his throat, “It’s alright,” he looked down at the kid before looking back at the older woman, “I’ve heard there were some strange… sightings around this town-“

“Ah, yes-“ the woman cut him off, “You’re talking Tervin.” Leon immediately furrowed his brows. They had named the potential B.O.W?

“Tervin?” Leon asked and the woman nodded, “Yes. He was sent by God,” she looked up at the sky and then back at him.

“He was kind enough to send us a messenger. My boy, the end is coming. We must cleanse our souls of our sins in order to enter our Eden.”

Leon immediately felt a weird sense of unease in his lower stomach, the bottom pit sinking down after the woman spoke.

The woman took a step forward and cupped Leon’s face, “He is our savior. He will bring us to an eternal peace. Time is ticking, we must proceed with His plan.”

Leon took a step back, taking deep breaths. What was this feeling? His heart was hammering against his rib cage and he could feel his head become light. Maybe it was heatstroke or maybe it was fear.

The woman stared at Leon, seemingly in a trance. He swore he saw her eye color vanish for a moment, not right before she “came back” and smiled at him. She then took hold of the two children’s hands and walked away. He could only stay there watching as they got further away.

He exhaled shakily as he ran a hand through his hair, this would be harder than he thought.

-

For the next following days, he’s been trying to talk to these people but everyone said remotely the same things.

“Monster? He’s no monster. He’s our salvation.”

“God sent him, it is His gift to us.”

“We must act quickly, the end is nigh”

Leon was currently sitting on the edge of the bed in the room he was currently staying. His elbows rested on his knees as his gaze fell on the picture of the creature he had in his hand. Pure black, except for the eyes. Something felt sinister- almost too evil. But he couldn’t pinpoint what. Everyone looked normal-ish.

He left the motel and began his 15th round of research. He was so sure he’d get kicked out if he kept asking the people questions. His mind traveled back to what the leader said, something about attending mass.

He didn’t want to but he knew that he had to try. Maybe there was something that could be useful in the church.

So that’s where he was headed. To the Great Willowed Forest. A forest full of tall trees and tall grass. The sun was setting and the church came into his line of vision. A tall Victorian structure that was adorned in white and gold. A bell sitting on top of the highest tower peak of the religious establishment. He slowly walked up the freaking and old steps of the church. Muffled talking from just the other of the door. With a light inhale, he pushed the door open with gentleness and stepped into the church.

The inside was much more beautiful. The benches were neatly fixed in rows as the windows were stained glass depicting stories of their God. The church was packed and the leader stood on the podium, preaching about their path to salvation.

“We must obey the Lord’s rule. For we are His children as well as His servants. We must makeup for the loss of His journey.”

Leon found himself an empty seat at the very back. No one seemed to have noticed him enter, they were all focusing on the town’s leader words. Almost as if they were bewitched.

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

The mass lasted for an hour and a half, and he didn’t find anything remotely useful. He sighed in defeat as he felt like he wasted his time, yet again. There were no signs of any B.O.W and these people were most certainly convinced that the monster was their key to heaven.

It was nighttime when Leon had left the church, walking aimlessly through the forest. His mind preoccupied with thoughts about potentially lying to the D.S.O and telling them it was just some southern myth.

Until he hears clinking sounds coming from behind a bush. His agent instincts activated and he quietly walked towards the bush to see what was behind it.

To his surprise, he’d found another person. A girl working on a garden. She had been couched down on the floor as her hands worked through the soil.

As he walked towards you, his boots crunched against the twigs lost in the grass. Your attention had been drawn to the sound and you quickly spotted the new man in town.

You furrowed your brows as he approached you, “You’re the new guy everyone’s talking about.”

Leon nodded curtly, “The one and only,” you hummed in response and resumed your duties.

“Can I ask-“

“No.”

He was caught off guard by your immediate answer. You didn’t even look back at him. He could only stare at the back of your head as your hands worked through the soil.

“You didn’t even listen to what I had to say,” he approached you and crouched next to you, glancing at the plants you’ve been planting.

“I don’t need to. You’re asking questions about this stupid and fake thing everyone claims to be salvation or some other bullshit,” you grumbled.

“Not necessarily-“ he sighed and looked at your side profile, “I’m not here for that-“

“What do you want me to tell you? That there’s some sort of monster roaming around the forest?” You turned your head to look at him, “Because I won’t. I haven’t seen anything and I do not believe it even exists. Those lunatics are hell bent on their stupid… belief,” you scoffed as you turned your attention back to your plants.

“Bunch of bullshit if you ask me,” you muttered. He looked at you some more before looking back down at your hands covered in dirt.

“So you aren’t with those people?” Leon raised a brow as he analyzed you. You shook your head no, “Hell no. You don’t know what they do to those who don’t believe in their God… you don’t know anything.”

Leon remained silent as your words settled down in his mind. There was more than what you led on and both of you knew this.

“Then tell me,” he replied quietly. You sighed and looked at him with an annoyed expression, “Doesn’t matter. Just go back to your shit and mind your business.”

He didn’t say anything, he just watched you for a few minutes before he stood up and left.

He went back to his motel room and laid down on the bed. Staring up at ceiling as he thought about the events that took place. He still couldn’t shake off the strange feeling he felt about this town. Something felt odd but he just didn’t know what. He sighed and decided to just sleep for the night.

-

Leon woke up early in the morning and tried to find the leader of the town. Surprisingly, he was at the church. He was sitting down on a bench, silently praying. Leon walked up to him and sat next to him as he waited for him to finish praying.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t our visitor. To what do I owe the pleasure?” The man said as he noticed Leon’s presence next to him. Leon cleared his throat and pulled out a picture of ‘Tervin’

“I need you to tell me about this. What do you know?” Leon’s brows were furrowed, he was serious. He didn’t come around to play. The man took the picture and stared at it. Something in his aura had changed upon seeing that picture.

“Where did you get this?” The man asked as he looked at Leon with an unreadable expression. Leon shrugged, “I can’t say.” The man hummed and looked back at the altar in front of them.

“Tervin is a gift from God. He was sent as a warning of impending doom,” the man replied in a flat voice. “If he isn’t satisfied, then he seeks blood. We must cleanse this town of impurities and relay a message to God that we are worthy of his Eden paradise.”

Something in that caused a shiver to run down Leon’s spine, but he didn’t show it. He remained serious and calm. Leon nodded once and stood up, feeling like no one will actually tell him anything.

“Thanks,” he muttered before he left the church. When he walked out, he nearly crashed into you.

“Watch it,” you hissed at him. He looked down at you with a raised brow, “I’m pretty sure you meant ‘excuse me’” he crossed his arms over his chest and kept blocking the doorway.

You sighed and looked at him unimpressed, “Excuse me.” Leon rolled his eyes and stepped to the side. As you began to walk past him, you noticed the picture in his hands. Your brows pinched together and you quickly pointed to it, “what’s that?”

Leon looked down at the picture and then back at you, “I’m supposed to investigate this… thing.” He watched you closely, trying to gauge your reaction as you stood there silently thinking.

“You’ll get yourself in trouble if you keep putting your nose where it doesn’t belong,” you warned before stepping inside the church. He saw you walk up to the leader. He exhaled and walked back to the town. When will someone actually help him?

-

It was somewhere past 11 pm, he was staring at the files he had about this town and his objective. It was impossible to think how he didn’t have any leads. It was the Leon S Kennedy! He always saw that the job got done, always.

He groaned defeatedly and began to walk around the town, he doesn’t even know how many times he’s done that.

The town was awfully quiet. There was a fog occupying most of his vision, making the place look eerie and unsettling. He heard the rustling of the trees and grasses but he paid no mind to that. Not right now, at least.

He saw you sitting on a fountain, staring at your reflection deep in thought. Why were you the only one out here. He walked over to you and spoke in a soft voice, “What are you doing out here?”

You looked over at him and then back at the water, “Could ask you the same.”

Leon sighed and scratched his head, “I just- I wanted to ask questions but seems like everyone just… disappeared.”

You hummed in response as your fingers played with the water, “They didn’t. They’re at the church praying or something.”

His ears perked up, praying at this time? He didn’t want to question it but it still lingered in his mind.

After a few moments of silence, he couldn’t help but ask, “You said you didn’t believe in God, why is that?” He asked in a quiet voice.

You looked at him before motioning for him to follow you, “It’s better if I just showed you.”

You led him through the dark forest, twigs snapping under your shoes and wind howling soft whispers as the moonlight glimmered down you two.

“This town ostracizes those who don’t believe in God. Do you know what happens to nonbelievers?” You looked behind your shoulder to glance at Leon for a brief moment.

“No, I don’t but do tell,” he followed behind you as his eyes scanned the forest for any threats.

You sighed and stopped walking once you’ve reached an abandoned cemetery, you walked up to one of the gravestones and stared down at the name, “Jeffrey Clyle. 1987-2024.”

“Sacrifice,” you whispered. Leon heard you and walked up next to you, your eyes distant and your expression solemn.

“Ever since rumors of the “messenger” started, they’ve been capturing and targeting those whose faith has been faltering…” your gaze remained down at the gravestone and Leon remained silent as he let you talk.

“They’ve been doing human sacrifices in the name of God. They believe that God would forgive them if they kill those who oppose him…” your voice trailed off for a moment before you turned your face to look at him, “It’s evil. Punishing people for not believing in something is inhumane. They’re all slaves to their own fucking religion, that God is not kind and I will never believe in it.”

“Then what are you still doing here?” Leon asked as he stared into your eyes, searching for an answer.

“Because my father is the fucking leader of this whole thing. I can’t just leave,” you mumbled and looked away. “I already get judged for not believing- imagine what would happen to me if I left?”

He remained silent once again. Your father was the preacher and the leader of the town? That makes things even more interesting. Leon never pictured himself to be in this kind of situation- not since Spain, at least. It all seemed the same to him. Religion controlling people, is that all it will ever be?

Then he remembered something from mass he attended,

“Tonight, we must bring our sacrifice and cleanse our souls. We must savor the taste of blood as He has given us a vessel from his sacrifices. We must show him our devotion.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he began to finally realize what might happen. He looked down at you, “You mean to tell me… that your father participates in human sacrifices? Why?” His eyes were narrowed as his breathing became faster.

You looked at him with narrowed eyes, “Because his idiotic self thinks that sacrificing people will help him and his goons reach their heaven.”

Innocent lives were being used for this town’s religion. This didn’t sit right with Leon. He quickly ran out of the cemetery- his heartbeat speeding as his legs carried his body towards the church.

Under the embrace of the moon and the night, a gathering assembled at the edge of the churchyard, shrouded by the shadows cast by the townspeople. Their faces unrecognizable under the dark night, their chants in hushed tones as they circled around a sacrifice.

Bound by chains, a person writhed in resistance, their muffled cries stifled by a potato sack over their head. Leon stood behind a tree as you came behind him to look at the scene unfold in front of your eyes.

The leader of the town emerged, wielding a sacrificial blade gleaming under the moonlight. Each stroke of the blade sent shivers down your’s and Leon’s spine, as the victim's anguished pleas echoed through the night, a haunting presence appeared through the tethered night.

“We give this sacrifice to you, our Lord. Let us repent for our sins and wash ourselves with the blood of those who’ve been cleansed.”

The creature- otherwise known as the B.O.W- emerged from behind the forest and entered the churchyard. Its stature was 11 feet, towering over everyone. Its black glistening skin reflected the moonlight as its pearly white eyes penetrated the group of believers. Its horns swirled upwards, reaching up to the sky. The townspeople all bowed to the creature as they chanted its name, “All hail Tervin.”

Leon’s eyes widened as he saw the B.O.W while your eyes widened at the fact that this “messenger” was indeed real. Leon took out his gun and aimed it at the B.O.W. You quickly pulled his arm down and whispered in a harsh tone, “Are you stupid? That thing could be dangerous.”

Leon narrowed his eyes at you, “I’ve fought those things before, I know what I’m doing.” He shook your hands away from his arm and aimed the gun back at the beast.

The beast approached the human sacrifice and with its claws, it picked up. Almost instantly crushing the human, letting the blood fall down like rain on the townspeople.

“Thank you, Lord, for this blessing”

The B.O.W then ate the human sacrifice after the townspeople showered in their blood. A scene so horrific and disturbing, it twisted your stomach upside down. The creeping sensation of the fact that it could’ve been you in that situation only made it worse.

To feel your rib cage cave in, piercing your lungs and heart as blood trickles down your mouth. Its claws clawing into your body, letting the blood flow like water.

It only made you shiver and writhe in disgust.

Leon then began to shoot at the B.O.W with his gun, drawing the attention of the townspeople. One bullet shot the creature’s eye, causing it to stagger backwards in pain. The group of believers all turned to look at you and Leon.

Their faces unrecognizable- their faces foreign as the creases and eyes all felt like distinct people. The group slowly began to walk towards you two as the monster howled in anger.

“God, forgive those sinners. They haven’t sought your guidance. Let us illuminate their path,”

The leader spoke as they approached you and Leon. Anxiety coursed through your body as you saw the B.O.W swing its claws at the group of believers. People flying left and right. The leader turned around and observed in delight.

“Yes, God, yes! We shall sacrifice ourselves for Eden.”

The whole group then began to chant, “For Eden. For Tervin.”

The B.O.W only had one goal in mind- and it was to kill the person who injured it. As Tervin kept walking towards you and Leon, Leon took hold of your wrist and began to ran. He dragged you through the forest back to the motel he was staying in.

He looked the door to his room and turned to look at you, “What the fuck was that!?” Leon was stressing, all these emotions resurfaced and he felt overwhelmed. Why was this happening, how was this happening?

“I told you, they’re fucking evil when it comes to their God,” you replied harshly.

“Yeah I wasn’t exactly expecting your father to be the leader of a cult with that thing as its dog!,” Leon replied as his hands traveled through his face and hair.

You scoffed and crossed your arms over you chest but just as you were to speak, the ground shook. Heavy footsteps were heard and Leon rushed to the window. He peeked through the blinds and saw the group of believers walking over to the motel with Tervin in following them. They kept chanting as they kept walking.

“We need to get out of here now-“ you said as you began to hurry out the door. Leon, however, stopped you.

“I can’t just leave, I have a mission to do and it requires me to kill that thing. I cannot go home until it’s dead,” he said as he stared at you with a resolved expression.

You could only stare at him in silence for a few moments before sighing defeatedly, “Fine, do whatever you want.”

“Stay here,” he instructed as he took his gun and walked out, leaving you alone in his motel room.

In the flickering glow of the moonlight, amidst the eerie chants of the cultists, Leon stood there, gun in hand as he scanned the group. He needed to be smart. They had a B.O.W to their advantage.

As the first cultist lunged forward, knife in hand, Leon countered with swift precision, deflecting the blade with a punch to the gut. His movements were a blur of calculated strikes and evasions. As he killed and wounded the cultists, they grew more frenzied, their chants escalating into desperate cries of fury. Yet, undeterred, Leon continued fighting.

“We must bring him to God!” They chanted as they kept lunging at Leon.

Amidst the chaos, the B.O.W stepped forward, its twisted features contorted with rage as it charged at Leon. With the gun pointed at the beast, he shot bullet after bullet, causing it to slow its movements.

“God, please forgive our brother for he has sinned. We must cleanse him.”

Leon ran out of bullets and just as the B.O.W was about to strike, he saw you throw a pitchfork at it. The blades piercing the creature’s skin, stabbing it right in the chest.

The B.O.W let out a screeching scream, “No! Our messenger!” The leader spoke in anguish as he watched the creature stumble back, falling to the ground with a thud. Leon reloaded his gun and began to shoot again, this time aiming for the head.

As Leon became busy, your father glared at you and it was like something turned in him, “You bitch. I’ve had just about it with you. You will submit to your God and you will repent!”

You’ve never heard him speak to you this way, so much malice in his voice that you didn’t recognize the man that used to be your father.

He lunged at you, his hands trying to reach for your neck to strangle you. You took a nearby torch and set his clothes on fire. He stood back and tried to set the fire off of himself- to which he fails. He screams and cries in pain as he began to get engulfed in the flames of his sins.

“Forgive me, my children!”

You finally understood everything. There was no God because your father believed he was that God. The flames burned up in hues of blue and orange right before the sparks flew into the night sky.

His skin melted, his eyes became a blobby mess and he fell to the ground. His screech becoming more faint as the life in being burnt away from his body. The flames expanding over the dried wheat of the town, engulfing the town in a pit of fire.

Leon had been too busy to even notice that you killed your father. He’s been shooting the B.O.W, making sure to blow its head off once and for all.

After two rounds of reloading, he finally was able to kill that damn thing. Watching it fall to the ground, sending harsh vibrations to the floor as silence overtook the ghostly town.

Heavy panting overtook the two of you as the silence grew deafening. You turned to look at Leon as he stared at the B.O.W all lifeless. You looked around and saw the bloodbath. Everyone was dead.

Pools of blood stained the gravel he once stepped, the lifeless bodies of the townspeople growing cold. The flames being the only source of light under the dark night.

Leon turned to look at you for a brief moment before looking up at sky as he tried to take deep breaths. He couldn’t believe what had just happened. He couldn’t believe what he was brought into. But he was glad it was over. For now at least.

Leon packed his things and went over to his truck, he looked at you, “Aren’t you coming?”

You looked at him and then back at the town- or what remained of the town. You nodded and walked over to his truck.

Both of you driving down the lane of the rose, exiting the town. Passing by a sign that read, “Please visit soon!”

Unaware of the presence with the white eyes watching you two leave the town.

[orcboxer]

They put me under for the operation, right? Except they underestimate my insomnia. My brain knows when it's being drugged and it resists unconsciousness like a cat resists a bath, it's gripping the metal lip of the sink with a despondent wail, it's getting the whole countertop wet. So I'm out for maybe 5 seconds when my eyelids audibly slither open.

My eyes are only transmitting maybe half of the photons they're getting, but my brain won't settle for seeing anything less than something, so it fills in the gaps with whatever an anaesthetized brain thinks seems reasonable. Which, as it turns out, includes a lot.

So the surgeons are all vaguely doctor-shaped and they're putting their long metallic fingers into my torso and fiddling with the metropolis in there. Now, this is a surprise to me, because I was sure on a level ranging from "fairly" to "pretty damn" that I was filled up with ground beef's distant cousin, gross beef, but hell if there weren't a whole skyline down in there.

I'm glancing through the steel archways at some miniscule nine-to-fiver lugging a tiny briefcase across a busy intersection when one of the surgeons picks up the poor fucker with those slender tong-fingers and drops him on a metal tray. Had to be a nigh forty foot drop for a man that small. Broke his leg clean in half, gets him howling like a wounded dog. Not one of them nasally Mel Blanc "Aah" numbers either, I'm talkin full-throated guttural "Auuuogghh." I glance over at the doctors through half-lidded molasses and they ain't paying the screamer no mind, they got their head in the game, and the game is civil engineering in Spleen City.

I don't remember much after that but next week I think the city's gonna vote on whether we should cut funding to the heart. I gotta eat a ballot that says "no" on that one.

[surrogate-fawn]

The Purple Butterfly

((Drabble/Short story based on the backstory of a rp with @mittysins of Fawn's second surrogacy.))

{This drabble is Part 3 in a series of drabbles based on the story Mitty and I co-authored. This story will not make sense without reading the ones that come before it.}

[ Part 1 - The First Goodbye ]

[ Part 2 - Quartz and Sea Glass ]

[ Part 3 - Here! ]

Author's Note: A real-world initiative is mentioned in this story called The Purple Butterfly Project.

TW: Miscarriage, infertility, mentions of cancer, mentions of past abuse, pregnancy complications, past stillbirth/infant loss, grief and heavy emotional trauma.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Living with the Tariqs, I got to experience what it was like to be around a baby after it was born -- and every pounding headache that came with it. 

Suri was a little spitfire as soon as she hit the atmosphere, and if she was unhappy the whole house would know it. The farmhouse wasn't all that big, and the guest room where I slept ended up sharing a wall with the nursery. So, you can bet I got woken up each time her parents did. 

Those first couple nights, I would lay there in bed until Ray or Tess could stumble their way down the hall and quiet things down. Yeah, I wasn't very useful. I didn't have much of a choice, though. It was a miracle I could walk myself to the bathroom with how sore I was after Suri squirmed her way out of me. 

It wasn't just soreness from the waist-down, either. 

Being around a constantly crying newborn had an . . . unexpected effect on my body. After the birth of my son, aside from a little bit of colostrum, I had never produced breastmilk. I guess hearing Suri cry to be fed every few hours triggered something, because I suddenly had a full milk supply with nowhere to go. 

Luckily, the Tariqs had a home remedy for everything. A couple of wet washcloths over upturned bowls in the freezer made some conveniently-shaped ice packs. Without those puppies, it felt like my breasts were filled with molten lead. So, my hands were occupied most of the day. 

I felt guilty, watching either Ray or Tess get up from the couch to tend to their daughter while I was able to sit there with my hands on my boobs and continue watching TV.  

I wasn't Suri's parent, but the fact I was the one who got her there made me feel like I had to help out. 

Once I started to recover, that's exactly what I did. On a night when Suri refused to stop crying, I got up and poked my head through the cracked nursery door. 

Tess was there, looking exhausted and defeated as she held Suri on her shoulder. That baby had been screaming in her ear for at least half an hour. She jumped when she turned and saw me in the doorway. 

"Hi, Tess," I said with a sympathetic smile. 

"Hey, doll," Tess sighed, continuing to bounce Suri up and down while she paced the room. She spoke a little louder than she needed to, likely 'cause she couldn't hear herself think. "I'm sorry she woke 'ya. I got no idea what 'ta do." 

She sounded like she'd given up. This was how she was spending her night, and she'd resigned herself to it. 

I thought about waking Ray, but his paternity leave ended in the morning. He had to be up in a few hours for his civil engineering job. Even with what little I knew about salary work, I knew eight weeks of unpaid leave for a brand-new baby was bullshit. Ray would've taken the full twelve weeks, but the city was jumping down his throat about finishing the blueprints for an overpass project on-time. Tess was about to be left alone with a two-month-old for the sake of ten fewer minutes of traffic. That wasn't fair. 

"Tess, lemmie take her for a while," I said, walking into the room. "You need a break." 

"It's fine," Tess insisted. "She'll calm down . . . eventually." 

I held out my arms. "Tess. Give 'er." 

The purple bags under Tess's eyes made her look twice her age, and her pale yellow hair was a rat's nest hanging down her back. She was at her wit's end. "Okay." 

Suri weighed almost nothing as I settled her against my shoulder. It still amazed me how small babies were. They seemed so much smaller when you actually got to hold them. 

"Hey, what's wrong?" I asked Suri. My ear started to ring as she wailed into it, her cries high-pitched and distressed. I started patting her back like I'd seen her parents do. "What's wrong, baby girl? What's got you so upset?" 

Tess collapsed into the glider in the corner of the nursery, her hands rubbing circles into her temples. "I've changed her. I've fed her. I've prayed over her. I've got no idea what my own baby needs!" 

"Well, I've got no idea, either," I shrugged, my toes digging into the soft sherpa rug by the crib. I continued patting Suri's back. Her feet were pressing against my chest, as if she were trying to pull herself upright. 

"But I'm supposed 'ta know!" Tess whimpered. She ran her fingers through the knots in her hair. "I'm her mama! Mamas are supposed 'ta know what 'ta do, but I can't even calm her down!" 

"You're not a bad mama, Tess," I said, offering her a smile -- despite the continued screaming in my ear. "Trust me, I know what a-." 

The screaming was cut short with a small 'gurk', and I froze when a wet glob of spit-up slithered down my back. 

". . . think I figured it out . . ." I said, my smile now pinched.  

Suri grumbled, and I carefully held her out in front of me. Her face was still red, but her expression was pure baby bliss -- milky spittle on her chin and all. 

"Did you have a tummy ache, baby girl?" I asked. "Is that what was wrong?" 

Tess shot up from the glider, sending it bumping into the wall. "Oh, Fawn, I am so sorry!" she said, taking her daughter out of my hands. She took the burp cloth off her shoulder, as if suddenly remembering it was there, and handed it to me. "Here, clean 'yaself up." 

"S'alright," I chuckled, cringing as I wiped up the gobby mess. "I've got other shirts. At least I got her to stop crying." 

Tess looked down at the baby in the crook of her arm, and then back up at me. "Wanna try a hand at gettin' her 'ta sleep?" 

Long story short, that's how I found my new job as the Tariq's live-in babysitter.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wasn't expecting to do surrogacy again, at least not for a long while. The Tariqs were paying me a decent wage for domestic work and were kind enough to not charge me rent -- so long as I was saving a certain amount of the money each week. The last post I ever made on the surrogate agency's forums was an announcement celebrating Suri's successful home birth. After that, I let my profile go dark.

Not only did hiring me allow the Tariqs to keep their promise of helping me on my feet, it also gave them an extra set of hands around the house while Ray was at work. Tess and I worked out a system where I would work on smaller tasks while she took care of the most pressing matters. If she was feeding Suri, I was cleaning the kitchen. If she was cooking dinner, I was changing a diaper. If she had to do yardwork, I was keeping Suri entertained.  

I learned to prepare formula, wash bottles, change diapers, and play peek-a-boo like a pro in no time. 

Bath time was always a tag-team effort, though. Suri was a splasher, and her favorite bath toy was a rubber turtle called "Squirta Turta", so we usually ended up as soaked as she was. 

When Suri was being weaned off formula, we made homemade baby food with the vegetables in the garden. Turns out, placenta makes a great fertilizer. I wondered if Mom had ever used it in her flower beds -- she'd had five of them to work with by the time all of us kids were born. I wished I could ask her. I wished I could ask her about a lot of things. I also wished Suri could eat her mashed squash without trying to wear the bowl as a hat, but I didn't get that wish, either. 

This was my life for two wonderfully chaos-filled years, and I was mostly content with it.

Mostly.

I wanted to go to college. That was always my plan for after high school, but . . . plans had obviously changed. My grades hadn't been anything to brag about, so I knew from the start I'd have to pay my own way through. I had two years' worth of savings, but I didn't want to dip into it, yet. That money was meant to be the down payment on a house someday. What would be the point of spending all my money on school if I'd be right back to square one afterward? That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to get my degree and start my life over -- I'd been waiting long enough.

After sitting down with Ray and breaking down the costs of school, I realized I barely had enough to pay for one term. There were some small scholarships I could apply for here and there, but I wasn't about to rely on winning them. There were hundreds of smarter students out there vying for the same pile of money. What chance did I have?

I mulled it over for several days without saying a word to anyone, but eventually I made up my mind. When I did, Tess was the first person I told:

"I'm gonna get pregnant again."

I announced it out of the blue as I was helping Tess with the after-dinner dishes. She was at the kitchen sink, washing. I was at the counter, drying.

The steel wool in her hand scraped to a halt. "Pardon?"

I hunched my shoulders a bit as I toweled off a plate. "I'm gonna find another couple that needs to 'rent a room'. It'll be able to pay for my degree. In full. All four years."

Tess continued washing, but she didn't acknowledge what I'd said at all.

"So . . . what do you think?" I prodded, setting stacks of dishes in the cabinet.

Tess grimaced into the soapy water, concentrating way too much on the pan she was scrubbing. "Shug, I dunno," she said. "Do 'ya really wanna do that 'ta 'yaself so soon?"

"Whatd'ya mean 'so soon'?" I scoffed. "Suri's up toddling around the house. Isn't that when most moms get pregnant again?"

"'Ya ain't a mom, yet, Fawn," Tess said, her tone lovingly blunt -- the tone that can only be learned by disciplining a toddler.

I flinched a little, but I crossed my arms over my chest to hide it. All she'd done was state a fact, but it still bit.

"I'd like to be," I mumbled. I gazed out the kitchen window and saw Ray out in the backyard with Suri. He was blowing bubbles, and she was reaching up to grab them with high-pitched screams of laughter. She chased them as they swooped lower to the ground, and then stomped on them with her tiny flip-flops when they touched the grass. "Someday."

"I know, doll. That's why I'm concerned." Tess set the pan on the drying rack. "Pregnancies are risky. Wouldn't 'ya rather have as few of 'em as possible?"

"I've had two and they went just fine," I said with a shrug. "I'm young, Tess! Isn't now the best time to use what I got? I can charge more, now that I've got experience. No student debt and money left over to save for a house! Trade nine months in exchange for the rest of my life? How could I pass that up?!"

Tess didn't say anything for a long time, she just dunked a chili pot in the dishwater and started scrubbing. I stood there in uncomfortable silence until she said:

"School can wait, 'ya know."

"No, it can't!" I protested.

"Ray and I can pay what 'ya need for classes when we start tryin' again," Tess said. "What on Earth's the point?"

"Point is," I huffed, leaning my hip against the counter, arms still crossed over my chest, "I'm almost twenty-four and I've got nothin' to show for it!"

"Fawn, 'ya gotta think about-."

"I'll still be able to help you guys out, Tess," I added. "Don't worry about that."

"It's not us I'm worryin' about," was her deadpan response.

It was frustrating as hell, but I wasn't too angry at her. I knew why she wasn't a fan of the idea.

The three of us had recently discussed growing their family in the future. The Tariqs wanted to wait until Suri was a little more independent before welcoming a second baby, so that plan was at least two more years out.

Following that conversation, we'd decided not to return to the surrogate agency we used the first time. The agency was helpful with the fine print and legal stuff, but the Tariqs had not been too thrilled to learn that a desperate, homeless, childless young woman had been allowed to become a surrogate of theirs.

"I can do it independently," I said, pleading my case. "I know how to be careful."

Tess turned to lock eyes with me. "Fawn . . . I just need 'ta know you're doin' it for the right reasons. I don't like the idea of 'ya going through all that for nothing but a stack'a cash."

"It's not just for money" I insisted. "I wouldn't go through it again for anyone, not even you guys, if I didn't find it meaningful."

Tess didn't seem any more at ease with my promises. "I just don't want 'ya health 'ta suffer. If 'ya do this, you're choosin' 'ta put 'ya body through a lot in such a short time."

I didn't argue. She was right. "I know."

Tess turned back to the sink, sighing while she rinsed out the pot. My toes curled inside my shoes.

"I want to help another couple while I still have the chance," I said, trying to justify my decision -- partially to myself. I could sense how strong Tess's disapproval was, and it was giving me serious second thoughts. "If I can't be a parent right now, I want to make it possible for other people to be parents. It makes the wait feel . . . less long."

Tess dried her hands on her long bohemian skirt and turned to gently hold my shoulders. "Doll, it's 'ya own choice. Ray and I can't stop 'ya from doin' whatever it is 'ya wanna do."

I nodded, my eyes cast down. I didn't need their permission, nor had I been asking for it, but some support would've been -- .

"Just know that we'll be here 'ta help 'ya," Tess continued. "Anything 'ya need, just ask. If you're gonna do this, I want 'ya as healthy and happy as possible."

I nodded again, this time with a smile on my face. "I'd appreciate that."

Tess wrapped me in a hug. "But please, shug," she added, patting my back, "don't put 'yaself through too much."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Easy there, doll. I've got'cha."

Tess held my curls back as I wretched into a blue emesis bag. I'd started growing my hair out in the months it took for this surrogacy to be arranged. I hadn't been thinking ahead.

I'd thought I was in the clear after I had to have Tess pull over on the highway so I could vomit up breakfast, but the antiseptic smell of the hospital kicked up my nausea again. I'd made it through the halls, but by the time I'd sat on the exam table my stomach had enough.

I choked on thick saliva and spit a mouthful of colorless bile into the bag. "Okay . . . okay, I'm good now," I spluttered as I lifted my head. I cinched the bag and handed it to the technician without looking them in the eye. "Sorry."

"Don't be," the tech laughed, "morning sickness is par for the course in here. I'll be right back, just make yourself comfortable." They dragged the privacy curtain closed behind them as they left the room.

Tess wet a paper towel in the hand sink for me. My skin was clammy and cold even before I wiped the towel across my face -- so I wasn't left feeling any better. My hands had a tremor so deep inside the tendons it registered as numbness. I raked my front teeth over my tongue to scrape away the acidic taste.

I hadn't really needed that blood test. I'd known the IVF had worked when I woke up clinging for dear life against the Earth's rotation. My head hadn't stopped spinning since, and it was two damn weeks later. The doctor overseeing my IVF had sent me in for a six-week ultrasound -- which was earlier than I'd ever had one done before -- because my hormone levels were "suspiciously high" this time around. Whatever that meant.

I'd been pumped full of fertility drugs like a chicken with GMOs for a solid four months by that point. No shit my hormones were off the charts, especially now that I was pregnant.

"It's never been this bad," I groaned, coughing on the burn in my throat.

"Yeah, that's why the doctor wants 'ya in here," Tess said with a chuckle.

"I hate it," I scowled. "I want the old morning sickness back."

"Each time is different," Tess said. "I had it once or twice before, but when I was pregnant with Ravi it never really went away." Any time Tess mentioned her angel baby, a little bit of the light left her eyes -- and I saw it happen again right there in that ultrasound room.

Tess helped me pull off my jeans and tucked my discarded underwear inside the back pocket for me. I covered my hips with the paper blanket just before the tech came back into the room.

"Looks like we're ready to start!" they chirped, taking their seat between me and the rolling ultrasound cart.

"Hang on a sec," I said, pulling up the FaceTime app on my phone. "The parents really wanna see the first ultrasound."

"Ah," the tech said with an understanding nod, "is this a surrogate situation?"

"My second time," I said with a proud grin. I pointed at Tess, who was folding my pants over the back of a chair. "I carried her baby first. Most amazing thing I've ever done."

Tess beamed at me. She was smiling, but the shadows on her face were a bit deeper than normal.

"Really now!" The tech exclaimed, keeping their peppy tone as they typed my info into the computer. "It's rare I see surrogate mothers as young as you. Bless your heart!"

"She's a trooper, that's for damn sure," Tess said, "but, God love 'er, she's been so sick."

"I'm sure your care provider can prescribe something for that at your follow-up ," the tech told me. "It won't feel this bad for much longer, sweetheart."

"It's worth it, though," I said. My phone bubbled with the ringtone of an outgoing video call. "These guys will be amazing dads."

The tech smiled at me. "I have such respect for traditional surrogates. That's a lot of sacrifice."

"Oh, no," I corrected them with a small hand wave. "This isn't traditional. These are the bio parents."

I hadn't willy-nilly accepted the first eager couple I'd found online. I'd put half a year's worth of thought into carrying this pregnancy. The Tariqs always gave me my birthday off, and I'd spent that entire day talking to prospective parents. I wanted to prove to them that I was taking this seriously; if I was doing this just for the money, I wouldn't have cared whose baby I carried. I wanted to vet my options and choose a couple that I well and truly felt honored in helping -- and the Gillespies were exactly that.

My phone screen flashed with a mixture of bright pixels before the video came into focus. An odd pair of men sat beside each other in what appeared to be either a kitchen or a dining room -- perhaps it served as both, they lived in a small condo. One was a tall, tanned athlete with a dark stubbly beard and a sculpted figure rippling beneath his loose-fitting tank top. That was Silas. The other was a willowy, ramen-haired man with thick blue octagon frames on his glasses and the quote, "It's only a passing thing, this shadow" from The Two Towers tattooed on his forearm. That was Owen.

"Hey, guys!" I said, holding my phone up and giving them a wave.

There was a slightly-too-long pause due to lag, but both guys lit up with smiles and greeted me in unison. I saw the tech looking at the screen from the corner of my eye. I could see the math trying to play out in their head.

"You don't mind if we record this, right?" Silas asked. They must've been watching from a tablet, because he reached his finger under the camera and swiped a few times as if he were checking a separate app. As he lifted his arm, a crescent of silvery scar tissue became visible from under his shirt.

I saw the tech look back to their computer with a subtle nod of their head. God love 'em, they must've been too nervous to ask.

"Go ahead! It's a special occasion," I said. "I'm gonna hand you over to Tess. We're about to start."

"Yay, Tess!" Owen said with a clap of excitement. He waved as I passed my phone over. "Hi, Tess! Where's Ray?"

"Hi, boys," Tess said with a soft grin. She adjusted herself to be closer to my side. "Ray's workin' from home today so he can watch our 'lil darlin'."

Of course the Tariqs had wanted to meet my new clients. They said it was because they wanted to vouch for me as a caring and capable surrogate; but I think it was mostly to judge the couple for themselves. The Gillespies had both Tess and Ray's number as my emergency contacts, which came in handy when they needed help with some legal paperwork.

Silas and Owen were my age, both of them twenty-four. They'd poured all their savings into the process of hiring a surrogate and had none left over for a lawyer. At the Tariq's behest, all three of us had stayed up late on a call to talk the Gillespies through the steps of writing a surrogacy contract. Silas and Owen seemed to hold a lot of respect for the Tariqs after that.

While Tess had the camera on her, I reclined on the table and put my feet in the stirrups. The paper blanket gave plenty of privacy -- which was good, because I didn't want my clients to see the long plastic wand the tech was prepping while it was in there doin' its thing. I'd never had a transvaginal ultrasound before, but apparently it was the only way to get a view of the Gillespies' baby so early.

I couldn't help but tense as I felt the rounded tip of the wand slip inside me like butter, aided by the warm jelly I was used to having on my belly. I could feel the blood flooding my face as the curved device slid under my public bone and pressed against a part of my anatomy that hadn't been reached in years -- though not for lack of trying, I had short fingers.

"Relax a little more, please," the tech said.

"Sorry . . . not used to this."

Don't judge me. I was living with my employers. The idea of one of them finding an adult toy in my room -- or worse, their daughter finding it -- made me shrivel.

I felt a subtle buzz inside my tissues when the device turned on. I bit the inside of my cheek.

"Okay, let's have a look at that baby," the tech said as they began angling the wand.

Tess flipped the phone around so the dads could see the action. I saw Owen grip his husband's bicep and pull him closer. The room was silent for a moment while the technician moved the wand around my pelvis.

"Can we listen to the heartbeat?" Owen asked, hugging Silas's arm.

"Not yet," the tech said, eyes glued to the screen. "Their little heart is only a few cells big right now. It's too quiet to pick up, but we'll hear it in a few weeks."

Owen and Silas shared a grin. I could see their story written on their faces and in the way they looked at each other. They'd been dating since high school, the odd-ball pairing of bookworm and athlete. After graduation, a preemptive doctor's appointment before Silas started testosterone saved his life:

Cervical cancer, stage two. The doctors had no choice but to take everything, but Silas chose to freeze a few of his eggs before the surgery. He'd gotten into non-competitive bodybuilding to deal with the effects of chemo, and it'd been his favorite hobby since. Luckily, Silas had been cancer-free for years -- Owen had gotten his first and only tattoo in celebration.

Now that they were newlyweds, the Gillespies were choosing to start their family right away -- knowing the frozen eggs wouldn't last forever. We'd lost a lot of hope when most of the eggs didn't thaw right, meaning we only had one shot at this. The Gillespies were more than open to adoption, but . . . having a baby together was something they'd hoped for since before Silas's diagnosis.

I'd known I wanted to step up to the plate as soon as I heard their story. I was proud to be helping such a sweet pair of guys have their much-wanted family. When I saw the way they looked at each other in that moment -- the excitement and love of a dream finally coming true -- I secretly hoped doing this for them would grant me some sort of karmatic favor.

I hoped one day I'd share that same ecstatic smile with someone, for the same happy reason.

The tech hadn't said anything for a while. They kept moving the wand from side-to-side between my hips and squinting at the screen. They took several images, judging by how often they hit the same loud button on their keyboard. They hadn't even turned the screen around, yet. I couldn't wrap my head around the baby being so hard to find -- not with the ultrasound wand jammed so far up.

"Are they hiding from 'ya?" I asked with a joking lilt. Something was starting to sink inside my chest.

"No, I see them," the tech said. They squinted harder at the screen. "Just taking their picture for the doctor."

"That's a lot of pictures," Silas commented from my phone speaker.

"Well, I . . . just want to make sure," the tech said. Their keyboard clacked as they took another image.

It felt like I'd swallowed lead. "Sure of what?"

The tech finally tilted the screen so the rest of the room could see it. In the grey-and-white fuzz on the monitor, a round dark void was highlighted in a bright yellow square. Resting in the void was a blurry white bean with a small flutter in the curve of its shape.

"So, here's the gestational sac," the tech said, outlining the yellow square with their cursor. They circled the cursor over the fluttering movement. "That's baby's nice strong heartbeat right there." 

"Silas, oh my god!" I heard Owen cry. "Look! We made that!"

The tech turned the wand slightly and the image on the screen rolled to the left. The same black void and white bean slid into view, except now it was upside-down. The tech once again circled their cursor around the flutter. "And this is another nice strong heartbeat."

 "They have two hearts?!" I gasped in panic. I realized how stupid I sounded after it was too late. "Or is it . . . ?"

The tech flicked the wand from side-to-side, and each time they did a little black void with a bean remained on the screen. It took a few back-and-forths for me to realize those weren't two different angles of the same image.

"Holy shit . . ." I wheezed. My hand covered my throat, as if that would loosen the strangling tightness that was setting in. "Holy shit . . ."

“What? What’s wrong?” I heard Silas ask, his voice glitched and laggy.

“Boys, can ‘ya see?” Tess asked, holding my phone closer to the screen. “Can ‘ya see that?”

I wanted to turn my head and see the parents’ reaction, but I could not move my eyes from the ultrasound. The Gillespies were quiet for a minute as the tech continued to swivel the image from side-to-side.

“How many embryos did you transfer?” the tech asked.

“There were only two that made it,” Silas answered. I could sense the moment reality washed over him. “Wait . . . wait, are they both there?!”

“Yep,” Tess said. I have no idea what emotion was in her tone, but it had a glaze of forced excitement. “They both took root.”

“I can’t quite get an image of both of them,” the tech said. “I’m trying, but it looks like they’re on opposite walls of the uterus. That flipped one is way up there, too. They’re hanging onto the roof like a bat.”

“A bat bean,” Owen said. His voice was flat, like the quip was a reflex.

“So . . . twins, right?” Silas asked. “We’re having twins?”

“Congratulations!” the tech chirped.

My pulse was pounding under my hand. That lump of lead was sitting hard in my guts, right alongside those two tiny beans. Two. Two beans. Holy shit. Two.

Tess turned the phone towards me and I saw the moon-eyed shock on the Gillespies’ faces. “Fawn, honey?” Tess prodded. “Wanna say something? What’dya think?”

“I . . .” My saliva felt thick and hot in my mouth. My tongue fell numb and it nearly flopped down my throat as I shot up on the table, my legs still up in the stirrups. “I think I’m gonna be sick!”

Tess jumped for a trash can. She aimed the camera at her face while I loudly wretched in the background of my clients’ first family video.

“This explains a lot,” Tess told the fathers with a sheepish grin. “Two times the baby, two times the morning sickness.”

The Gillespeies were quiet for a while, an awkward pause with only the sounds of my suffering to fill the void.

“We’re having twins, Owen,” Silas finally said, just as I was pulling my face from the trash.

“Yeah . . . wow,” Owen’s voice answered.

I heard a subtle thumping from their end, like one of them was bouncing their leg. The tempo was frantic.

“What’s wrong, Owen?” Tess asked. She held the phone to be more level with her face. 

All I heard was a harsh sniffle.

“C’mere, you big softie,” I heard Silas say.

“Don’t cry, honeybun,” Tess said. “It's a blessing!"

“I’m happy!” Owen insisted over the phone. “I’m so happy!” His voice was muffled, like he was hiding his face in his husband’s shoulder. “This is . . . whew! This is overwhelming!”

“No kidding,” Silas said with a laugh.

“No fucking kidding,” I said with my head in the trash.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a few days for the shock to wear off. The anti-nausea pills cleared my head so I felt less like I was walking in a fever dream. Once that edge was taken off, it made reality slip in a little smoother. I was pregnant with twins. There were two little jellybeans inside me that would be two full-sized babies in eight months. That was fine. Yeah, that was fine. That had to be fine. If it wasn’t fine, I was going to start losing my mind! So, it was fine.

I mailed the printouts of the ultrasounds to the parents. They had the digital pictures I took, but those physical copies were what really mattered to them. The three of us had never met in person. They lived hundreds of miles away, in Michigan. They wouldn’t be flying down to Tennessee until it was nearing my due date, so any physical memento of their babies I could send to them was much appreciated.

I wanted the Gillespies to feel included in my pregnancy as much as possible, even if they couldn’t be with me in-person. Each week I’d take a picture of myself turned sideways in the bathroom mirror and sent it to them. I basically sent them the same picture four times in a row. There was nothing much to show except for the tummy flab I’d collected my first two times around the block. By week ten, though, I could feel that familiar little lump starting to form below my navel. I had slightly too much of a pooch for there to be any trace of a bump, though.

Almost three months in, I was surprised by how normal my pregnancy was – aside from the intense bouts of nausea I relied on my medicine for. I’d thought having twins inside me would up the difficulty level, but up to that point my life had changed very little. I still got up every day to housekeep and nanny for my allotted shift, and I did so with the same ease I did before. The only change was how much of an eye Tess kept on me. It was very annoying.

“Fawn, no!” Tess trotted up beside me and took hold of my hips. “‘Ya don’t need ‘ta be up there.”

“Stop it!” I gasped as the stack of plates in my hand jittered. “Don’t grab me like that if you don’t want me to fall!”

Tess gently pulled me down from the stepstool I’d been using to reach the cabinet. “I can take care of those,” she said, taking the stack of dishes.

“Jesus, you’d think these were your babies,” I muttered.

“It’s easy now, doll, but you’re not far off from those little ‘uns hittin’ a growth spurt.” Tess climbed the stepstool and I rolled my eyes behind her back at the oh-so-dangerous foot and a half of height she stood above. “I can go ahead and take over the chores ‘ya need help with.”

I shrugged, lifting my hands and then letting them slap down onto my thighs. “Alright. Want me to take over Suri while you handle the dishes?”

“Yes, and I’ll be wiping down the countertops and stove with bleach. So, I don’t want either of ‘ya in here until I say so.”

“Right. Grabbing snacks.”

Arms full of Cheerios, applesauce pouches and beef jerky, I joined Surinder in the living room. She was watching one of her preschooler shows on TV from inside her pop-up play tent. Her toys were strewn all over the floor – the living room had become her territory and she marked it with Duplo blocks and miniature plastic food. 

I bent over to start picking up and I grunted when the ligaments around my waist pulled tight. Tess was right about the babies, I hadn’t gotten round ligament pain so early before.

It wasn’t long before Suri crawled out of her tent and patted my leg to get my attention. “Fa! Fa!” she called my name until I turned around and acknowledged her.

“What is it, baby girl?”

“Go! . . . Go potty!”

“You gotta go potty? Okay, let’s go-oh!” I winced as I stooped to pick her up, my hands flying to my sides. There was that ligament pain again. I rubbed my hands into my lower belly, trying to work out the tension in my stretching muscles. “Let’s walk to the potty.”

I kept feeling that growing pain. I got a charlie horse in my back as I was helping Suri in the bathroom. That nerve-deep pain flared up in a ring around my hips as I sat down for dinner, but a slight adjustment in my posture made it nothing more than an annoyance. I went to bed that night safe in the knowledge I would wake up to another day of normalcy.

I woke up to my alarm, bright and early as always. I woke up to that ring of pain around my hips as I stretched out under the covers. I woke up to the sensation of wet fabric, something sticky plastered against the curve of my rear and up my lower back. I woke up to blood, both crusty brown and damp red, on my pajamas and sheets.

I woke up wanting to scream. Instead, I tip-toed past Suri’s nursery and padded down the hall to her parents’ room. I knocked once before opening the door. I was like a child needing to be comforted from a nightmare, appearing in the Tariq’s doorway and softly whispering their names until they stirred.

“Ray? Tess?” I leaned a little harder against the doorframe as I watched their silhouettes sit up in bed. “Can one of you drive me?”

Tess yawned. “Where, doll?”

“The ER.”

With the yank of a chain, Ray’s bedside lamp clicked to life. I didn’t need to scream. Tess did it for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ray held my hand while we waited in the emergency room. I’d cleaned up and changed clothes – Ray had lent me a pair of his sweatpants, just in case I bled through my pad. All that remained of my pregnancy was sealed in a sandwich box on my lap. Tess suggested I take the large clump of blood and tissue I’d found in my underwear with me for the doctor to look at, but I hated holding that box knowing someone’s lost dream was inside.

Tess hadn’t come to the hospital with us. She stayed at the house until her parents arrived to take Suri for the day and then met us in the waiting room. I sat between them, resting my head on Tess’s shoulder while both of them wrapped an arm around me. We waited like that for over an hour.

Most of that day is a scrambled signal in my memory. There was a lot of waiting. A lot of fluorescent lights and white-beige walls. We watched TV together in the room they put me in, but I don’t remember what we watched. Only one memory of that ER visit is clear:

A nurse came in and confirmed what we already knew. They’d found the stringy prototype of a placenta in the tissue I’d passed, along with one of the gestational sacs. That was concerning, though. One. They’d only found one of the twins. There was a possibility I needed surgery, so they had to go in and see what was left. The Tariqs weren’t allowed to follow me as I was wheeled down to radiology.

The ultrasound room was dark and warm, the only light coming from the idle monitor of the computer. It was easy to close my eyes and drift into a trance as the tech smeared gel over my lower belly. I’d been scheduled for my next ultrasound in two weeks. I didn’t think I could handle seeing how empty I was.

“Did everything clear?” I asked, resting my hands over my sternum. Even if I didn’t want to see it, I still wanted to know if they were gonna have to scrape me out.

“I can’t say for certain until the doctor has a chance to look at these,” the tech said. “I’m just here to take pictures.”

I wished this was the same tech from my first ultrasound. I could’ve used their friendliness.

“I stopped cramping a while ago,” I said, “so hopefully it’s over.”

The tech rolled the wand up from my groin and I felt it press on the solid lump in the front of my hips. They were pressing hard – trying to get a good image, I assume – but eased off as they moved the wand just below my navel.

“Ope, no. Wait,” the tech said, “there’s the other one. Gosh, that one is way up there.”

Bat Bean. That’s what the Gillespies and I had been calling Baby B. We’d been calling Baby A “Jellybean”. I wondered what their real names would’ve been. My throat closed up and I had to stop wondering.

“Oh . . . my . . .” the tech said, nearly in a whisper. Then, much louder: “Well, hello there, little guy!”

“What?” I asked, opening one eye in hesitation.

I saw their face in the light of the monitor, saw the crescent moon of a smile below their reflective glasses. “It’s kicking!”

“What?!” 

My neck arched and suddenly I was staring at the high-def image of a grey gummy bear on the screen. Nubby limbs twitched as the oval-shaped body curled and uncurled, swimming around its bubble of fluid like a tiny fish. The bulbous head turned and I watched in utter amazement as Baby B’s whole body flipped over in a summersault.

The tech hit a key and a steady whop-whopa-whop-whopa played as a line of white peaks and valleys appeared below the image. “And we have a heartbeat!” they announced, all monotone gone from their demeanor.

I must’ve been in a state of shock, because my memory after that moment is almost entirely blank. I have a vague recollection of signing some paperwork and a surgeon standing over my bed, listing off possible side effects. I remember a needle going into my arm, and then my memory is a void.

My memory restarts at the point I woke up in the recovery ward. Please understand that before this point, I had never had any kind of knock-out juice. I’d never had surgery before. So, please don’t make fun of me when I admit that I woke up crying. My vision was blurry, my head was in a vice, my anti-nausea medication had worn off, and it felt like I had a cactus in my vagina. 

I saw a silhouette at my bedside, a woman’s silhouette with a ponytail of dirty-blonde hair. For a second, I thought my mom had forgiven me – I thought that someone, somehow, had reached her. I thought she cared enough to be worried about me. I reached out to her, craving to feel her hold me again. I felt horrible. I wanted my Mama to make it all better.

“M-om?” I mewled, my mouth slow and dry. 

I touched the woman’s arm, causing her to turn towards me. She wasn’t my mom – just a nurse who styled her hair the same way. “No, sorry. I’m not Mom,” she said softly. “She’s probably waiting for you outside.”

I knew she wasn’t. I felt more tears trail down my neck.

“Just lay back and try to wake up a little more,” the nurse told me, “then we’ll let your family come back and see you.”

I dipped in and out of a fugue state, gradually returning to reality as the drugs wore off. Although I couldn’t remember much before surgery, I was inately aware that my cervix had been sewn shut. There was no telling what had caused me to lose Baby A, but Baby B was still considered at-risk. Sealing the exit shut was the best bet to keep ‘em in there. The fact I was still pregnant at all after so much blood loss and cramping was miraculous. Just to be safe, they hooked my IV up to something that would stop my uterus from contracting. 

When I was awake enough to feel hungry and ask for food, the Tariqs were allowed to come sit with me in my cubicle of curtains. Tess sat on the side of my bed while Ray tried to nap in his chair. It’d been nearly twelve hours since we arrived at the hospital and we were all exhausted. I barely had the energy to lift spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup to my mouth. After I’d gotten some broth and crackers down my throat, and Tess and I had run out of small talk, Tess leaned in and wrapped her arms around me.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she whispered into my ear. “I know what you’re feelin’, and it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

They weren’t empty words – far from it. Tess had been where I was time, after time, after time. Only, for her, it was worse – those lost children were her own. Then . . . there had been Ravi. I didn’t want to imagine how his loss had felt. Well . . . perhaps I could make a light comparison, but I at least knew my son was alive and well somewhere. I wrapped my arms around Tess in return, blinking back tears.

“No, Tess,” I said, my face covered by her long flaxen hair. It smelled like her mint shampoo. “I’m sorry you went through this so many times.”

Tess held me tighter.

“Have you told them?” I asked.

“No. We wanted ‘ta hear what the doctor said first,” Tess said. “Everything’s lookin’ okay with the baby right now, but he wants ‘ya on bedrest.”

“Can you . . . please call them for me? I don’t want to hear them . . .”

“I will,” Tess said, patting my back. “I’ll go outside and let them know.”

“If they ask which one it was . . .” I sniffled and choked back a small sob. “. . . tell them we lost Jellybean.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I continued to send the Gillespies bumpdates every week. I never missed a single one. I continued mailing them printouts of their baby’s ultrasounds. We never talked or chatted about what happened, nor did we discuss medical updates about Bat Bean. For those, the Gillespies waited for either Ray or Tess to contact them. I didn’t want them to associate me – the woman carrying their one and only child – with talk of heartbreak and loss. I wanted Silas and Owen to be excited when they saw an email from me, not dread clicking on it. Ray and Tess stepped up to be the bearers of heavy news for us. My doctor had me going in for ultrasounds every two weeks, which meant a lot of baby pictures from me and a lot of medical updates from the Tariqs.

My stomach remained flat for quite a while, with just the slightest bump in my lower belly for weeks. But one morning, around fifteen weeks in, I swear I woke up looking like I’d swallowed a cantaloupe. I guess the baby had finally hit that growth spurt Tess had predicted.

His name was Milo Bennet Gillespie. Silas and Owen named him shortly after we discovered he was going to be a boy. Owen was a fan of classic books who worked at Barnes & Noble, so I had no doubt he was the one to choose the middle name. Sometimes we playfully referred to Milo as “Bat Bean”, but that nickname faded out in favor of his real name. I worried over him – a lot. I bought a home doppler online so I could check if his heart was beating. Whenever I noticed he hadn’t moved for a while, I would pull up my shirt and rub the doppler on my bump until I heard the whoosh of his pulse. The doctors kept saying everything was looking good with him, but I worried.

I was essentially given leave of my housekeeper duties until Milo was done cooking. The doctor wanted me off my feet, so I spent most of my days on the couch watching cartoons with Suri. She was observant enough to ask about my big belly in her two-word-sentence manner. Unsure how to explain the situation, I told her there was a small person living in my stomach and that his name was Milo. I even took her tiny hand and let her feel where Milo was wiggling around. She didn’t like that very much, it freaked her out and she ran to her mother. I didn’t want her to get excited for a baby that wouldn’t be coming home with me. That wouldn’t be fair to her . . . or to me. 

It wasn’t the best experience, being pregnant without the baby’s parents there. When I was growing Suri, her parents were there with me at every doctor’s visit. They took me on day trips just for fun and to make sure I had enough to eat. They were able to put their hands on my belly to feel their daughter kick, and put their lips close to my skin so she could hear their voices. Milo didn’t have that. His daddies were hundreds of miles away. They’d never felt him squirm around, only I had. He’d never heard their voices close-up, just over the phone . . . maybe. The clearest voice he’d ever heard was mine . . . and my voice wasn’t going to follow him home.

Although I had the Tariqs there to support me and love me, I felt alone in my pregnancy. Milo was just a little visitor in the household – we had no toys or bedding or bottles for him, all of that was with his fathers. After he was born, no one would mention him – his future didn’t involve us at all. I was the closest thing to a mother Milo would ever have . . . and I wasn’t going to be a part of his life. 

It was an experience I’d had before, with the last baby boy I’d held under my heart.

It took a toll. It really took a toll.

Before I knew it, I’d blown up big as a barn. I no longer had a lap when I sat down, my belly nearly reaching my knees. Milo was a big boy – the doctor estimated he was around nine pounds – and he was squishing all the fluid in my body into my lower half. My legs were hot and heavy and my feet were too swollen for my shoes, so I shuffled between the bathroom, kitchen and couch in flip-flops. God, I hated being on my feet. I spent my days either dicking around on my laptop – using my belly as a desk – or watching TV while sprawled out on the couch. 

Surinder got really upset with me one day, when I refused to play tag with her. Ray and Tess were very mindful of how much Suri “bothered” me, but I never considered it bothersome. I loved Suri, she was practically my niece. I was sure to let her know that I wanted to play with her, but my “belly buddy” was making me too tired. I made up for it with lots of hugs and kisses, and I promised that once I was feeling better we’d play tag as much as she wanted.

As soon as I hit thirty-seven weeks, I was on high alert. I’d warned my doctor that I delivered before my due date at least once before, but he wanted to keep Milo in there until he was full-term. So, he refused to remove my stitches. As miserable as I was, I agreed. I wanted Milo to bulk up as much as he could, even if it added to my discomfort. If I could give Silas and Owen a perfect, healthy baby . . . maybe it would make up for what happened. 

My body had failed one of their babies – and so help me God I was gonna force it to nurture the other! I was determined! I would make it to forty weeks!

Yet, I would not.

I pulled myself off the couch one afternoon to grab a snack and my knees almost folded. I leaned against the arm of the couch as a deep downward motion slid over my organs. My lungs were slowly relieved of their crushing burden and they eagerly filled to their maximum. I lifted the weight of my belly with one desperate hand because I had a blaring instinct about what was happening.

“Milo, don’t you dare!” I muttered under my breath.

Like a Duplo block clicking into place, Milo’s head slipped into my hips. My belly visibly dropped, I felt it shift to hit heavier in my hand. Almost immediately, I felt the baby’s heft sitting directly on my sutured cervix. I groaned and pressed my thighs together. The pain throbbed between my legs, sharper than I’d ever felt.

“Hey, Ray?” I called, knowing he was upstairs in his office.

“Yeah?” his distant voice rumbled through the ceiling.

“Can you bring me my phone?” I called. “I need to call the doctor.”

A few minutes later, Ray thumped down the creaky stairs with my cellphone. He paused when he saw me leaning over the back of the sofa, kneeling with my thighs apart. “You okay?” he asked, handing me my phone.

“I need to call the doctor and tell him I need my stitches out, like . . . tomorrow,” I said, unlocking the screen. “Milo’s in my hips, he’s not gonna wait another two weeks.”

Ray rubbed my lower back, scratching his goatee in thought. “Is he going to wait until tomorrow? You’ve been having cramps, right?”

“Yeah, but they’re irregular as hell,” I said, putting the phone up to my ear. “I’ll be in labor soon, but not that soon.”

I was wrong. I was so wrong. I was so horribly wrong.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Silas? Hi. Yeah, it’s Ray.”

“Fuck! Oh, fuck!”

“We have a situation. Fawn’s having contractions and you boys need to get on a plane right now.” Ray ground his knuckles into my back while I wailed face-down on my bed.

I gripped a bag of frozen peach slices in a towel between my thighs. My arms hugged all my pillows to my chest beneath me, and I buried my head between them to yell my way through this latest contraction. My belly was squeezed into a perfect sphere, peeking out from under my shirt as it hung down to my mattress. The contractions were actually pretty mild, all things considered. They didn’t hurt that bad at all. 

However! My body was forcing Milo down hard against my cervix. That pain was far, far worse than the contractions. His head was grinding against a closed exit, but the sheer force was spreading that exit open anyway. The baby was a battering ram and my cervix was a fortress door, splitting apart around its locks and bars with every slam. 

“Fuck, I want these stitches out!” I cried into my pillows. “I want them out!”

“Yeah . . . yeah, you can get a refund on the tickets you already bought,” Ray continued on the phone, and on my back. “I’ll book a room for you, don’t worry about that. Just focus on getting here. Bring an overnight bag for each of you and some basics for the baby. I’ll pick you up from the airport, don’t bother with an Uber.”

Tess walked into the room, a large duffel bag slung over her shoulder and her hair thrown into a messy bun. “Everything’s in the car,” she said. Her hand squeezed my shoulder until my posture relaxed and I lifted my head from the pillows. “You ready to go have a baby, ‘shug?”

I nodded. Tess helped me to my feet and I waddled down to the car doubled over and holding my belly up. Even without a contraction, the pry and pull on the strings holding my cervix closed was constant. My seam was literally about to pop. I had to recline the passenger seat as far as it could go so I could somewhat lie on my side. My contractions were regular, but very far apart; so, thank god, I didn’t have to deal with any while cramped in the car.

My chest tightened when we pulled into the hospital parking lot. I knew I’d be having the baby here. I’d prepared for it, but thinking about it was so different from doing it. Because of the complications with this pregnancy, I had no choice but to deliver in the same maternity ward I’d walked into years ago. I . . . didn’t like thinking about what I went through in that ward. 

Tess came around to my door to help haul me out, but I didn’t move. I stayed on my side, staring at the clouds hovering above the cars – they were painted with the summer sunset. 

“‘Ya want me ‘ta get a wheelchair?” Tess asked, leaning on the open car door.

“Yeah,” I sighed, resting my cheek on my hand. “Tess, I don’t wanna go in there. I wanna do this at home.”

Tess looked over her shoulder, scanning the hundreds of windows looming ten stories over us. “Me neither,” she said, then turned and hustled toward the hospital entrance.

At eleven-thirty that night, I found myself sitting on a birthing ball in a stagnant delivery room. The only light was the yellow wall lamp mounted over my bed – anything brighter and my head would pound. A monitor belt was pulled snug around my belly, leashing me to a gaggle of machines beside the bed. An IV bag of pitocin hung from a hooked pole beside me, the tubes trailing down to a needle taped in place on the back of my hand. 

I bounced on the ball, my hands braced on Tess’s knees while she sat on the side of the bed in front of me. I felt my torso squeeze and held my breath. The monitor beeped, registering a contraction.

“Blow the pain out,” Tess crooned, ghosting her fingertips up and down my arms.

I grabbed her knees and rotated my hips on the ball. A small “Ack!” bubbled up from my throat before I sucked air in through my nose and forced it out through pursed lips. I blew hard until my lungs went flat, then filled them again and continued the process. Salty water leaked from my shut eyelids and slid in thick droplets down my neck and back. I blew so I wouldn’t scream. I knew I could scream, but I didn’t want to come unglued only a few hours into active labor. Hell, my water hadn’t even broken yet. 

I could still be in control of myself, even if this birth was not going according to plan.

I was hoping labor would be smoother after the stitches were out, but they’d only caused more complications. I’d dilated quickly regardless of the sutures, already three centimeters open when the doctor snipped the strings. He’d gotten to me too late, though. The stitches had ripped small tears in my cervix as Milo’s head pulled them apart. The swelling was immense – within minutes I was sealed shut again and my labor stalled. Hence, the pitocin.

The pitocin hijacked my body, forcing it to crush inward on itself like a soda can in a hydraulic press – at a strength and speed beyond what felt natural. I had never felt labor this intensely! I would desperately cling to any self-control I had in that beige nightmare of a room.

“Mmmmh,” I hummed through my nose, my hip swivel morphing back into a bounce as the contraction eased.

“Good job,” Tess grinned at me. “You’re doin’ so good, Fawn.”

I moaned and leaned back, bracing my hands on my hips as I rode that birthing ball like a rodeo star. “Have they landed yet?”

“Doll, they ain’t on the plane yet,” Tess said. “The only direct flight they could book on such short notice leaves at one-fifteen. Ray’ll call us when they take off and when they land.”

“God,” I huffed, my chin falling onto my chest. “They gotta be here. They can’t miss this!”

“Everyone’s doin’ their best and that’s the only thing they can,” Tess said. “It’s only an hour flight. They’ll be here in time, don’tcha worry.”

My hair had grown past my shoulders during my pregnancy, and it was suffocating me. I lifted my auburn curls off my flushed neck to cool down. Tess watched me for a moment before pulling the elastic band from her hair. A cascade of blonde fell down her back, sun-bleached highlights vibrant even in the low light. Without a word she came ‘round and gathered my frizz into her hands. A few flicks of the wrist and she had my hair up in a damp, poofy bun.

Tess kneaded the back of my neck for a while. I rested against her, letting her work my muscles like dough. Milo kicked, causing a dull ‘thump’ on the doppler.

“Fawn,” Tess broke the silence, “there’s nothin’ wrong with askin’ for pain relief.”

“Don’t want it.”

“Doll, I can tell it’s hurtin’ like hell. You’re hooked up ‘ta stuff that could rocket a foal out’a ‘ya.”

“I’m. Fine.”

“Just ‘cause ‘ya managed before doesn’t mean-.”

“I don’t wanna be stuck in that bed!” I cried. “I don’t wanna lay there like a lame horse ‘til they strap me up in stirrups! I’m NOT doing that again!” 

I pulled away, using the bed’s railing to lift myself to my feet. My hand wrapped around to support my lower spine, exposed by the untied loops of my hospital gown. Tess picked up the absorbent pad on the birthing ball, folding it over to hide the bright spot of blood where I’d been sitting. I saw it, but it didn’t scare me – I knew it was from all the swelling. She retrieved the pink water cup from the table and let me drink from its straw.

“I had my baby here, too,” she finally spoke. She sat back down on the bed and smoothed her hand over the starchy sheets. “The beds feel the same.”

“Ravi was born here?” I rocked myself from foot-to-foot, holding onto the railing to keep steady. “I didn’t know that.”

“Four years ago as of January,” Tess said with a nod. “I was in here a few months before ‘ya, ‘shug. Who knows? Maybe they had us in the same room.”

God. Had it been four years already? I had a four-year-old somewhere out there and he had never seen my face. What toys did he like to play with? Did he watch the same preschooler shows that Suri and I watched together? What were his favorite foods? I wanted to know all of that. I wanted to know him! I wanted to know the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the texture of his hair . . . or his name.

A scar somewhere in my chest ripped open and I swear I could feel a black void pouring over my ribs like paint. I held my breath. Tears dripped from the tip of my nose and onto my belly. I was in so much pain, but not from labor. My soul was bleeding – the wound as raw as the day it was carved.

In my mind's eye, I saw myself reaching for my son as the doctor held him up. I saw my arms cradling his little naked body against my chest while he took his first breaths. I saw my lips pressing kisses into his bald, wrinkly scalp while my eyes cried phantom tears onto his skin.

None of that had happened at all – but it should have! I should have been given the chance to say goodbye – to look into his eyes and tell him how much I would always love him, even if he couldn’t see me. No, not even that. He should have stayed my baby! I should have gotten pregnant by a different man – a good man. I should have been on the pill instead of relying on his father’s cheap, oversized condoms that were probably expired. I should have fucked up my life less. I should have made a thousand better choices, so he could have stayed my baby!

I screamed along with the frantic beeping of the monitor, but all physical pain paled in comparison to the emotional. I’d cried through my heartbreak once before, but being back in that damn ward, in an identical room, brought all my grief pouring back out. Tears and liquid snot flowed down my face as I white-knuckled the bed’s railing to keep me upright. I gulped full lungs of air, only to wail and scream and sob until they were empty.

I think Tess knew my tears were from deeper down than they seemed. She leaned close and gently took hold of my contracting sides. Her palms rubbed large, soothing circles into my hardened womb. Her sympathetic eyes never left my face.

“Good girl,” she crooned. My eyes were blurry with salt water, but I thought the skin around her eyes looked red. “Scream it all out.”

“I want my baby, Tess!” I cried. “I . . .” my shoulders jerked with a sob, my diaphragm spasming from lack of air. “I n-never got to ho-hold him!” Another hiccup. “H-He’s going to think I . . . think I didn’t w-want him! But I . . . I wanted h-him so much!”

“Hushhh,” Tess shushed me. She wiped my face with the scratchy hospital blanket. “Hush now, doll. Calm ‘yaself down and get some air in.”

“Okay,” I nodded, still choking on sobs and panting for breath. “Okay . . . okay . . .” The awareness of the contraction began creeping into my brain. “Ohh . . . ohh . . . oh, shit!”

Blinded with tears, I threw my arm out to grab onto Tess. I balled her shirt collar in my hand and restarted my “blow the pain out” technique.

Tess continued massaging the sides of my belly, waiting to speak until she felt my muscles start to uncoil. “Are ‘ya sure you don’t want somethin’? I can call the nurse.”

I sniffled and wiped my eyes on my sleeve. Able to see again, I realized I hadn’t been wrong. Tess had been crying. My hand released her shirt, and my arm snaked around her shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“Tess . . . I just want you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Three-thirty in the morning. We hadn’t heard anything from Ray, and even less from the Gillespies.

A nurse had been in to check me twice in the last hour. Milo was still in his comfy water balloon and that seemed to be cushioning him from the extra-strength contractions. I nearly started crying again when they told me his heart rate was fine and I could continue to labor on my own. With how damaged my cervix was – and how many liters of pitocin they’d given me – I’d been terrified of an emergency C-section.

By then I’d lost the use of my legs, but I refused to stay on the bed for more than a few minutes – usually just long enough to pull my knees back and let a nurse stick her fingers inside me. With the help of an orderly who’d come to swap out my IV bag, Tess had taken the mattress off the bed so I could have something soft to lie down on without feeling trapped.

I’d taken to half-lying on the floor with my arms and upper body resting on the birth ball. I couldn’t keep myself quiet during contractions any longer. Making low, rumbling noises like a cow in a ball gag was a must. It was how I was surviving. Between those moments, I was just tired. It was a relief that I couldn’t feel my cervix anymore, but that was likely because it had effaced. My eyes were heavy and full of grit, but the sixty-something seconds I had between contractions didn’t allow me to sleep.

At that point, I was beyond the mental capacity to worry about Silas and Owen. Milo and Tess were the only other people who existed in the world as transition’s brutal hand crushed me in its fist.

In hindsight, I think that’s why I didn’t panic when the pressure set in.

Tess was kneeling on pillows on the other side of the birthing ball, humming a lullaby to relax me between contractions. Her tune tapered to a halt when I shifted my hips, one leg pulling up to my side. “What’cha need, ‘shug?”

“I feel him.” I stated it like a bland fact.

My eyes were closed, but I felt Tess’s hand touch my shoulder. We’d already decided what we’d do if this happened before the Gillespies arrived.

“Alright, doll. It’s alright,” she crooned. “Lemmie come around.”

I heard the soft ‘pap pap pap’ of Tess’s socks traveling in an arch around me on the faux wood floor. Her weight settled on the mattress by my feet.

“Promise I won’t touch,” she said. “I’m just eyes.”

I grunted and rolled my leg outward to open my hips. Oh, I knew that pressure so well by that point. I knew better than to doubt my body. More pitocin mixed with my blood, drip-by-drip, through the needle in my hand. I wasn’t sure if someone should’ve removed it by then, but whatever. I was gonna use it to my advantage.

The monitor around my belly beeped. I pressed my toes down and pushed before I truly felt the pain. Milo kicked the doppler again, like he realized he was finally being evicted. After a solid ten seconds, I relaxed with a nasally whine.

“He’s coming, Tess.”

“I know, doll.” Tess gently nudged my foot to a more grounded position. “Soon as I see ‘im, I’ll call a nurse. Ain’t no one gonna put ‘ya in that bed, I’ll make sure’a that.”

I scooted up more into a half-squat, one arm draped over the ball and the other wrapping around my knee. Chin-to-chest, I used the rest of the contraction to bear down against the familiar sensation of a baby sliding down my passage. I took frequent breaths between my efforts so I wouldn’t get dizzy, panting a small “Uh . . . Uh . . . Uh” with each exhale.

I didn’t need to throw my all into pushing, the contractions were doing most of the work. Maybe that pitocin was a blessing in disguise – I don’t know if I had the energy to make progress without it. Five pushes in, and I felt my inner walls stretch around the baby. My quiet whines and grunts escalated into growls as the pain grew sharper, and I flowered open wider.

“Damn, he’s huge!” I moaned as I eased off my most recent push. Forget “Bat Bean”, the fucking Chicago Bean was coming out of me!

“Remember, you’re pushin’ out the sac, too,” Tess said.

I hugged my hiked-up leg closer to my side, teeth gnashing in my skull as my face turned purple with effort. “Ugh!” I released a small bark of pain during a brief pause, then spent the rest of the push with a low growl in my chest. 

My labia brushed the crease of my thigh, the skin bowing out and preparing to stretch. I felt the inner structure of my clit get crushed as the mass of the baby pressed its way down. It was something I’d felt before in the past during childbirth – but never to the extent that it fired electric shocks of nerve pain down both legs. My toes curled as a ghostly, stabbing pain assaulted the arches of my feet.

I relaxed against the ball with a loud huff of air. “Tess, rub the bottoms of my feet,” I begged, my head falling back against inflated rubber. Thank god she did it without question, I was too embarrassed to explain.

Two contractions later, I was mid-push when a gout of hot water splashed onto the mattress. My focus was broken by the release of pressure, and I leaned forward to peer over my belly. A saw an expanding area of wet sheets between my thighs, darkening the color of the mattress as more amniotic fluid drained from me.

“He’s makin’ his way out, doll!” Tess grabbed the blanket and bunched it up around my rear to soak up some of the mess. “You’re openin’ up!”

“Ahh!” The arm holding my knee in place flew down to pry open my leg, fingers pulling at the skin where my thigh met my groin. My body pushed for me and my perineum thinned out and spread over the head as it dropped past my tailbone. 

“Fuck, Tess!” I whined, vocal chords straining. “Fuck, he’s hurting me!”

“Take it slow,” Tess said, patting my thigh. “Let it stretch.”

I arched back against the ball as my lips bulged outward with the size of Milo’s head. The arm draped over the ball was numb, but it was the only thing keeping me upright. The room reverberated with a roar I didn’t realize was mine as I felt that all-too-familiar fire blaze to life. My entire world shrank down to that inferno between my legs. The only thought in my head was to push down into it. My fingertips migrated beneath me, pressing against the hellfire in my perineum as the flesh pulled dangerously tight. I was aware Tess got up from the floor, but I was blind and deaf to the world.

The ringing in my ears muffled the sound of the door bursting open. My eyes flew open in surprise as a gloved hand gently nudged my fingers aside and cupped my perineum. A scrubbed nurse knelt in front of me, a mask covering her face from the nose-down – but even then, her eyes smiled at me.

“Good job, Fawn!” the nurse praised me. “Baby’s crowning. You’re nearly done!”

I flinched when someone else took my leg and hiked it up to my side. It was Tess. I finally understood she must’ve run and got help. I thought I heard a cell phone ringing, but no one else reacted to it. I accepted the fact I was hallucinating.

I threw my arm around Tess’s waist, unaware my fingers were coated in blood, and held tight as I pushed again. I gasped deep and screamed as I felt myself make quick progress once the top of his head breached the air.

“Don’t stop, doll. He’s comin’,” Tess said, her lips brushing my scalp.

Sweat stung my eyes, so I kept them squeezed shut. My whole body trembled, my nerves going haywire as Milo surged forward with a massive, unstoppable push. I felt the little bump of his nose traveling through the pouch of my perineum.  The nurse palmed the crown of his head, trying to let me stretch easily over his brow.

A loud slam caused everyone to jump, and the bright light of the hallway sent a migraine through my skull. The nurse turned to scold the two men scrambling into the room, but Tess saved the day:

“They’re the parents!” she cried. “They’re stayin’!”

I couldn’t pay attention to anything going on around me. With a roar of effort, I bore down until I heard the wet little ‘shlip’ of Milo’s head pushing free into the nurse’s hand.

“Owen! Silas! Here, now!” Tess ordered.

I heard two more bodies thump to the ground beside the floor bed.

“We’re so sorry, Fawn!” I heard a familiar voice yell – a voice that belonged to a man I’d only ever heard through the static of a screen.

“Later, Owen!” Tess snapped. “Focus on your baby right now! Do not miss this!”

I didn’t care about anything – I knew this baby was on his way out right then and there! Nothing else in my mind or body would function until he’d made his journey earth-side! I clung to Tess, who pressed my leg back wider as Milo’s thick shoulders started to press out of me.

“Push, doll. Push on ‘im hard,” she encouraged me softly, her voice like warm honey.

The nurse began pulling down on the baby, forcing his shoulder to pry my public bone out of place to come through. I don’t quite know what the sound I made was, but it didn’t sound human. The nurse pulled upward, and . . . 

“And we have a baby!” the nurse cheered as Milo’s body gushed out onto the mattress. A small trickle of leftover fluid followed his feet.

“Holy shit.“ My whole body relaxed as soon as that relief came.

My eyelids slid open when I heard that little guy make the sweetest newborn cries I’d ever heard. For a big baby, he had a small voice. Thin, blonde baby down was plastered to his scalp, and even while he was all squished and blotchy I could tell he looked like Owen.

“Oh, look how sweet!” the nurse sing-songed while she toweled Milo dry. “Isn’t he a perfect little man?”

A second nurse mysteriously appeared in the background. I peeked around Tess and saw the extra nurse fanning Silas with a laminated paper while he sat slumped against the wall, looking dazed. Owen kept looking at his husband over his shoulder, but his attention was constantly pulled back to his son.

“Oh . . . hey, guys.” I sleepily waved to the fathers. “When did you get here?”

Owen glanced back at Silas, who was rubbing his forehead and seemed to be coming around. “Just in time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I flipped through the pictures in my phone while I rode home with Tess. Milo and I had stayed in the hospital for a few days for observation. I’d needed a few internal stitches (wow, real shocker there) and they just wanted to keep an eye on Milo because of his troublesome gestation. At first, there was a little bit of concern because of how lethargic he was – but his bloodwork was fine, so I guess he was just a sleepy lad. He wasn’t awake in any of the pictures the Gillespies and I had taken.

There were countless photos of Milo being snuggled by all of us. Ray and Suri had popped in to see me the morning after I gave birth – mostly for Suri’s sake, she’d woken up crying over not being able to find me at home. I had a picture from that morning of Tess holding Milo in the room’s armchair while Ray held Suri up so she could see what my “belly buddy” looked like. Suri somehow looked confused, disgusted and amazed all at once. My favorite picture was the one Tess had taken of me and the family together. I was sitting up in bed and holding Milo while Silas and Owen sat on either side of me. All of us – except Milo, who was asleep with a binky in his mouth – were smiling wide at the camera.

One of the first pictures in my album was of Milo swaddled like a burrito a few hours after he was born, fast asleep in the baby cot beside my bed. His name, weight and time of birth were written on a card taped above his head. Beside that card was the paper cutout of a purple butterfly. 

In Silas’s first picture with his miracle baby, he was pale as death but still smiling. He’d needed to sit down for a while after passing out, but he’d held his little boy nearly every minute in that chair. He’d held Milo while they performed his medical tests, only allowing the nurses to take him away for his first bath. In the picture I’d taken after that, Silas was gazing at Milo with all the love in his eyes that a father could give – and Milo was wrapped in a fresh blanket with an embroidered purple butterfly on the corner. The Gillespies had brought that blanket with them.

At first I’d thought the purple butterfly cutout was just a decoration choice the hospital had made; but when Milo’s first gift from his parents had the same image, I’d asked why it was showing up so often. Turns out, that hospital had adopted The Purple Butterfly Project – an initiative that offered support for patients who had lost a child in a set of multiples. The cutout on Milo’s cot was meant to celebrate the life of his “flown-away” twin, as well as make staff members and visitors aware that he was the wingless half of a pair. It took on the burden of explanation, so Silas and Owen could bond with their son without worry.

My phone buzzed with a new message from my clients. It was a selfie Owen had taken of himself and Silas at the airport, with Milo snug in a sling around Silas’s chest. The picture came with the message: “Thank you for blessing us so deeply! We hope the joy you’ve given us will be repaid – with interest! Milo is going to be showered with love every day of his life. You’re more than welcome to keep in touch with our family, Fawn. We’re happy to let you watch Milo grow up with us. Love, Owen and Silas.”

I locked my phone and sat it face-down in my lap. “Hey, Tess?” I asked, watching the road unfurl beyond the windshield as we traveled the rural roads. “When will it be my turn?”

Tess glanced at me. “For what?”

“Being happy,” I deadpanned. “I’ve made three different families happy. You and Ray, the Gillespies . . . and my son’s parents. I just wanna know when my turn is.”

The rest of the car ride passed in total silence. When we parked in front of the farmhouse, Tess turned to look at me while she unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Doll, there’s somethin’ I want ‘ya ‘ta see.”

Going upstairs was a herculean task with how stiff and full-body sore I was, but Tess held my hand and walked with me step-by-step. She brought me into the master bedroom and sat me down on her side of the bed. Tess opened her bedside drawer and pulled out a wooden box that was roughly the size of a checkerboard. She plopped down beside me and stared at the box in her lap for a moment before saying:

“I haven’t opened this since we brought it home. I couldn’t. But . . . I think now’s the time.”

I watched as Tess lifted the lid of the box, revealing a carefully folded fleece blanket with pastel stars printed on it.

“What is it?” I asked.

Tess lovingly took the small blanket in her hands and began unfolding it. Beneath the layers of fabric was a blue crystalline teddy bear sculpture holding a silver heart between its paws. Tess picked up the bear and held it in her palm – that’s how small it was.

“This is Ravi,” she said.

Once light hit the silver heart at a different angle, I saw the engraving on it: “Ravi Idris Tariq”, with a single date underneath. Tess turned the bear over in her hands so I could see the second engraving on its back: “I carried you every second of your life.”

“I wrapped ‘im in his blanket,” Tess said, her thumb stroking the bear urn’s head. “It made it feel more like I was puttin’ him down ‘ta sleep instead’a . . . y’know.”

I was too stunned to speak.

Tess set the baby blanket in the box and – tiny urn still in-hand – got up and walked to her closet. A quick rummage, and she returned with a different fleece blanket. This one was pastel rainbow colored and was covered in white stars, an inverse of the other.

“These came as a set,” Tess said. “We donated everythin’ he never got to use, except for this. This one’s special.” She rubbed the blanket on her cheek. “I prayed over this one. I asked Mother Gaia ‘ta allow my baby’s spirit ‘ta be linked to this earthly object, so that I could hold it and it would be the same as holdin’ him.”

Tess re-joined me on the side of the bed, clutching Ravi’s urn to her heart while she cuddled and kissed the rainbow blanket. “I still miss ‘im. I miss ‘im a lot,” she said. “Having this connection to him helps.”

After a minute, Tess set both blankets and the urn inside the wooden box. Then, she took my hands into her own. 

“Neither of us got ‘ta hold our little boys,” she said. “Mine was already in the arms of Mother Gaia, and yours was in the arms of his mama before you had the chance. That’s what’cha told us, right?”

I nodded, silent and enraptured. Tess smiled at me.

“Well, when you’re feelin’ more ‘yaself, I’ll teach ‘ya how to use my sewin’ machine,” she said, giving my hands a gentle squeeze. “You’ll pick out the fabric and you’ll make a baby blanket. That’ll be his baby blanket, ain’t no one else’s. I’ll ask Mother Gaia ‘ta bless it for ‘ya. When you feel all that love buildin’ up with nowhere to go, hold it. Hold your baby. He’ll be able to feel it, no matter where he is.”

I returned her smile, but my throat was almost too tight for me to speak. “I’d like that.”

We made a small shrine for Ravi’s urn on the mantle that night. Ray and Tess had Suri help set it up, explaining the existence of her elder brother to her in a way she would understand:

“Mama had a baby in her belly just like Fawn did,” Ray said, lifting Suri up so she could drop a few cut flowers from the garden beside the tiny blue bear. “That was before you were born. You were just a twinkle in Mama’s eye back then.”

“Where the baby?” Suri asked as her father plopped her back down.

“This is the baby,” Tess said, tapping on the silver heart between the bear’s paws. “He had ‘ta go back ‘ta Mother Gaia while he was still in my belly. This is where his body sleeps.”

I lit a few jarred candles and placed them on the mantle. From my back pocket, I pulled out the laminated purple butterfly cutout that had been taped to Milo’ cot at the hospital. I placed it upright against the mantle wall, so that two purple wings appeared to be sprouting from Ravi’s bear.

It wasn’t my turn to be happy, yet. I had a long way to go before I could start making my own dreams come true. Maybe school could wait a while. Maybe the money I’d earned throughout my surrogacy could be put to better use.

Maybe I was sick of staying on the path my own stupid choices had led me down. Maybe it was time I started making the choices I’d wished I’d made earlier.

I was tired of living in the shadow of grief Alexander had cast over my life. I’d lost everything because of him . . .

. . . but I was ready to start taking it back.

~ END ~

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #34 – Children of Memory by Adrian Tchaikovsky

Overview

I have had this on my list for long enough for my request that the local library get a copy actually result in me getting my hands on it. It’s the third instalment (the last? I’m not sure – the ending here felt like far less of a natural conclusion than the ending to either of the previous two) of what is for my money some of the absolute best space opera (maybe even just science fiction writ large) of the last decade. I actually opened it with a real sense of trepidation; Children of Ruin had ended on an optimistic, open-ended note, with the creation of an interstellar and inter species society that was both deeply aspirational and incredibly alien. I wasn’t sure how a book from their perspective would even work. Thankfully, my fears were basically misplaced – there’s definitely a drift in tone and focus from where the series started, but the thematic heart’s still there, and this was overall a joy to read.

Synopsis

Following the end of Children of Ruin, we have a nomadic society of uplifted spiders and squids, Humans (the capitalization signifies infection by an engineered retrovirus to help with empathy and accepting/valuing the Other), the formerly all-consuming alien microbal parasites of Nod (who have agreed to only assimilate the identities of those who expressly consent to the process), and various instances of Avranda Kern (millennia old upload of a meglomaniacal mad scientist who is by a quirk of history now the OS all computers run on). After making tentative Second Contact with a half-terraformed world now inhabited by a civilization of debatably-sentient crows, an exploration ship takes on a pair of them as ambassadors before finding their way to way what seems to be a struggling but holding on colony founded by one of the last arkships of refugees to escape the ruins of Old Earth. .

Intercut with this is the narrative of that arkship arriving, very much the worse for wear after two thousand years and change hurtling through the void with its crew and cargo in cryo. The world is hardly what they hoped for – only ever half-terraformed, breathable atmosphere and some basic engineered microbal life, but entirely lacking any sort of biosphere – but it’s not like they have another option. They make the best of it they can, using what working technology they have to bootstrap a basic ecosystem of pigs and trees, a few species of bugs and fungi, enough to farm and build with. And the core crew holds out hope that the faint trace of a strange signal buried in the hills near their colony might lead to something more.

Intercut with that is the story of Liff, a young girl in the colony as things take a turn for the worse. That’s when things start to get weird.

Xenophilia

The best way for me to get across the central theme of this whole series is ‘more star trek than star trek’ (or at least, than any star trek produced since I’ve come of age). It believes is absolutely nothing so strongly as it believes in the pure and perfect virtue of curiosity, that the point of existence is to discover, and to share what you have discovered with those around you. It is an oft-repeated point that the overwhelming majority of the universe is cold and empty, and anything different is worth seeking out and treasuring for its own sake – that every shred of diversity is the cosmos is a wonder in its own right.

Which is the entire purpose our protagonist’s civilization has set themselves – the distributed fleet of pathological scientists and novelty-seekers, leaving behind teeming cities and orbital habitats for a life seeking the mysteries of the universe with tiny circles of peers. It’s very Starfleet, in its most idealistic and elevator-pitch form.

And even beyond them, curiosity, discovery and exploration are treated as basically heroic wherever they’re found – Captain Holt and the Enkidu might have been doomed, but they’re still presented as deeply and wholly admirable for trying.

It goes beyond that, too. This is one of vanishingly few space opera settings I can think of with a cast full of distinct and dissimilar species, where none of them are orcs. Or dragons, for that matter. No matter how monstrous and horrifying a species seems – spiders the size of your head, the mad remnant of an ancient demiurge, all-consuming and replicating alien parasites – the answer is diplomacy, outreach, communication. Both sequels in the series have begun with a civilization formed through the total (though not seamless) integration of alien societies from the last book into a greater whole. The parasites from Children of Ruin best exemplify this, I think – convinced that consuming and assimilating everything it can reach will result in nothing but a universe of itself, compared to walking through the world with a soft touch and appreciating all the different dynamics that can develop through so many myriad perspectives. And now one of them is basically the book’s main protagonist (and very guilty about all the nonconsensually-eating-people thing).

Whereas in Memory it’s not exactly subtle that the intolerance and violence against social deviants is presented as basically a symptom of material scarcity and desperation. When Landfall is doing well, the little band of infiltrators – strange, nonverbal artist, discomfortingly informative schoolteacher, standoffish and thoroughly gender nonconforming woodswoman – are affectionately tolerated and appreciated for what they can do. When the harvests are bad and the forests are rotting – well who even needs abstract art or history lessons to begin with? They’re lashed out at, used as just one of a growing set of scapegoats, and when things are dire enough, again and again, they end up on the noose. Intolerance is a self-harming reflex, a wounded animal lashing out because it can neither understand nor change the actual source of its pain. Again, Star Trek but moreso.

The ‘moreso’ does a lot of work in this comparison, to be fair. The series shares Star Trek’s deep love of science just like it shares its pathological liberalism – it’s just consistent about it. The crew explorers are casually transhuman (transarachnid, transcephlopod, etc) - immortal and physically enhanced, capable of sharing and downloading both memories and skills, visibly aging or carrying scars only as a fashion statement. It is treated as a casual fact of life that letting an experiment progress might mean going into cold sleep for decades or centuries, if there is no better way for a group of six on a small ship to while away the time while they wait. Technology has conquered scarcity on anything like a personal scale, and the explorers take full advantage.

Which is probably downstream of the books not being particularly caught up on ‘humanity’. I mean, humans are there – are very important! - but to the extent they’re the axis the universe turns upon, it’s only the ghosts of the old empire. Modern humans are just one part of interstellar civilization, and not even its most numerous or prominent. Humans have a unique way of thinking (as does everyone else) but no monopoly on heroic drive or virtue.

Curious Corvids

Each book in the series feels marketed around a different uplifted animal arising from the ruins of humanity’s imperial glory and galaxy-spanning hubris. This is not wrong, but it definitely becomes less right as the series progresses.

Children of Time is about the spiders. There’s humans too, sure, but I’ve yet to see a single person who read for the Gilgamesh plotline. By wordcount and thematic focus and just what makes it an interesting book, it is about the evolution of Portid intelligence and civilization across the millennia. The real protagonist of the novel is the species.

Children of Ruin is still kind of about the uplifting of the Squids. Senkovi’s efforts and relationship with them gets a decent amount of focus, as does the development of their civilization after the terraformers’ death. They just share top billing with the alien aliens, and rather than just being the climax of the story Second Contact is the real meat of the entire plot.

In Children of Ruin the introduction of the corvids almost feels like a publisher mandate – their history and backstory is basically brushed over in the prologue and one interlude, Second Contact basically a triviality. It’s not that they’re not important to the book or its themes, or that they’re not interesting (in both cases they very much are!), but they feel like a b-plot. Supporting what the book is about, not defining it.

Which to be clear, is from a writing perspective almost certainly the correct choice – ‘Children of Time but with a different species’ would still be fascinating, but it really doesn’t cohere as a continuing and linked series. I just think you could have dug some more meat out of the abbreviated history given there. What fanfic is for, I suppose.

It’s a funny sort of distinction that unlike the others, the corvids aren’t technically uplifts – the considered opinion of the series is that while spiders and squids would require millenia of nanite-assisted directed evolution to develop anything that looks like human-level sapience, in the right environment crows would just Do That (admittedly with the addition of alien radiation scrambling DNA and increasing mutation rate by an order of magnitude or two).

The other trend with the different uplift species as the series has gone on is that with each book they become neurologically and psychologically weird. The spiders had Understandings and a bunch of predator- and cannibal-instincts, but they’re still each an individual intelligence. The squids are a central brain and a bunch of semi-autonomous limbs which are only barely on speaking terms with the conscious mind. And now the crows are not individually intelligent at all – they think and live in pairs, one observing and recalling, the other analyzing and inferring, actual intelligence appearing only in the dialogue and interaction between the two. Which makes chapters from their POV very entertaining, at least.

Sentience and Identity

The book’s very interested in both – it’s probably the most central and explicit theme of the entire thing. Our crows, having given the matter thorough and careful reflection, eventually decided that they weren’t sentient at all (that nothing is, really) – or at least, that’s the series of sounds they make when asked. Our other main characters include:

an alien parasite which has assimilated a copy of a woman’s consciousness and now imitates her so well she often forgets she’s anything else

a copy of a sliver of an instance of an upload of an ancient terraformer, who for a nontrivial period of time was running on hard that was mostly ant colony

an extremely detailed simulation of someone who could have but never did exist

(arguably) the simulation they are running on.

The book comes down pretty solidly on a ‘if it quacks like a duck’ model of personhood – and cheats a bit in terms of giving most of the above POV chapters and obvious internal monologues – but the question of who counts as sentience and as a person, and of what ‘sentient’ and ‘person’ even mean – are ones that various characters spend a lot of time and angst on.

The answer the book arrives at isn’t exactly a surprise – see above, more star trek than star trek – but it’s still an interesting angle to look at everyone from.

Genre Ambiguity

The book is clearly, self-evidently science fiction, but Tchaikovsky still has a lot of fun playing around with some fantasy tropes and imagery in it. Liff is an adolescent who dearly loves her book of ancient fairy-tales, and so our view of Landfall and the world beyond it, which means basically her entire plotline is narrated with a fairy-tale sensibility. In fairness, Kern and the crows do an excellent job accidentally seeming like a witch and her familiars. Landfall’s whole deal seeming a lot more like a fairy curse than anything from the inside doesn’t hurt, either.

While it’s science fiction, Memory is definitely softer science fiction than the previous books in the series. In general, human- and human-descended technology all at least has the convincing appearance of rigour and plausibility, while anything alien falls solidly into the real of space magic plot devices. So we get elaborate narration on the exact details of how the crew of the Enkidu bootstrap a functional ecology around Landfalll before their high technology begins giving out, but the simulator buried in the hills Just Works. Which as neat a way to do the division as any, really, but there’s a real shift in tone from Time where just about everything feels like it’s from the first category. I mean, they have fTL now!

Conclusion

This isn’t really a book I’d call groundbreaking – Children of Time has much more of a claim to novelty in both subject and presentation – but it’s one that I think solidly achieves everything it tries to? The writing’s good, the characters all cohere, the themes are explored intelligently. Plus, Kern is probably one of my favourite characters of all time.

So y’know if you don’t have major issues with spiders, multiple POVs and unclear timelines, or existential angst, would solidly recommend.

[ofliterarynature]

TBR TAKEDOWN: Week 17 (September 22)

TLDR: I have too many unread books, and I’m asking tumblr to help me downsize. Pick one or none - it doesn't have to be something you've read, just the one you think sounds the worst! Comments and reblogs welcome, book descriptions below the cut. See my pinned post for more info.

Boneshaker by Cherie Priest

In the early days of the Civil War, rumors of gold in the frozen Klondike brought hordes of newcomers to the Pacific Northwest. Anxious to compete, Russian prospectors commissioned inventor Leviticus Blue to create a great machine that could mine through Alaska's ice. Thus was Dr. Blue's Incredible Bone-Shaking Drill Engine born.

But on its first test run the Boneshaker went terribly awry, destroying several blocks of downtown Seattle and unearthing a subterranean vein of blight gas that turned anyone who breathed it into the living dead.

Now it is sixteen years later, and a wall has been built to enclose the devastated and toxic city. Just beyond it lives Blue's widow, Briar Wilkes. Life is hard with a ruined reputation and a teenaged boy to support, but she and Ezekiel are managing. Until Ezekiel undertakes a secret crusade to rewrite history.

His quest will take him under the wall and into a city teeming with ravenous undead, air pirates, criminal overlords, and heavily armed refugees. And only Briar can bring him out alive.

A World Without Heroes by Brandon Mull

Jason Walker has often wished his life could be a bit less predictable--until a routine day at the zoo ends with Jason suddenly transporting from the hippo tank to a place unlike anything he's ever seen. In the past, the people of Lyrian welcomed visitors from the Beyond, but attitudes have changed since the wizard emperor Maldor rose to power. The brave resistors who opposed the emperor have been bought off or broken, leaving a realm where fear and suspicion prevail.

In his search for a way home, Jason meets Rachel, who was also mysteriously drawn to Lyrian from our world. With the help of a few scattered rebels, Jason and Rachel become entangled in a quest to piece together the word of power that can destroy the emperor, and learn that their best hope to find a way home will be to save this world without heroes.

Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse

A bold translation of Nobel Prize-winner Herman Hesse's most inspirational and beloved work, which was nominated as one of America's best-loved novels by PBS's The Great American Read

Hesse's famous and influential novel, Siddartha, is perhaps the most important and compelling moral allegory our troubled century has produced. Integrating Eastern and Western spiritual traditions with psychoanalysis and philosophy, this strangely simple tale, written with a deep and moving empathy for humanity, has touched the lives of millions since its original publication in 1922. Set in India, Siddhartha is the story of a young Brahmin's search for ultimate reality after meeting with the Buddha. His quest takes him from a life of decadence to asceticism, through the illusory joys of sensual love with a beautiful courtesan, and of wealth and fame, to the painful struggles with his son and the ultimate wisdom of renunciation.

[violetstormms]

DCA x Reader Random Recommendation Corner Post 2

Welcome to the random recommendation corner. Here fics are recommended that sounded interesting but I have not gotten the chance to check out yet. This means that besides the description I have no idea what they contain so pay extra attention to tags and read at your own discretion. Some may eventually make it onto the regular recommendation list as this is essentially my “to read” list. If you are curious about the symbols before the fics you can check out the pined post for an explanation. This will be the same message before every post so you can just skip to read more if you have read this once.

*Diving in stars, all alone by zofifi

 archiveofourown.org/works/54275623/chapters/137453173

You are a space pilot. For the last few months your only job was testing new attempts at hyperspace engines.

But none of the prototypes ever worked. Until today.

Stranded at the edge of a solar system where the wider universe begins. What will you find there?

*Wintersweet Spirit by NaffEclipse

  archiveofourown.org/works/55202458/chapters/140007037

Your visit to a beautiful, tucked-away mountain town leaves you curious about the beliefs of a mythical beast who watches over the peaks and snowy ranges. An ill-advised trek toward the summit sends you tumbling directly into the mythical beast's domain as you must accept his guiding hand to endure the harsh mountaintop.

He is power and brightness, and the only one who can carry you through the snow.

-*I Can't Give You Anything But Love by Kurpo

  archiveofourown.org/works/54766792/chapters/138807373

You're just a simple mechanic. You run a scrap, mechanic shop. You mentor a young kid, Gregory in your field.

This wasn't supposed to happen. It was just going to be a simple scavenging at the old Fazbear Theme Park. In and out. Gregory's first experience out in the Glowing Wasteland.

Yet, you end up facing two synths Gregory accidentally wakes. What are you to do when you're faced with two pre-war synths that have no idea 200 years have passed?

Time can pass, but civilization will always find a way to survive.

`Wasteland, Baby! by orphan_account, theberryboi

  archiveofourown.org/works/54608833/chapters/138371674

The last thing they expected when emerging from the woods was to find the downfall of civilization. And the last thing you expected to find was them.

*Maybe Villains Aren't So Bad by ArtemisRed

  archiveofourown.org/works/54726241/chapters/138698338

You work for the city's best heroes working to fight the villains and keep the city safe. But when two new villains come into town, your job starts looking a lot harder to commit to

`Unexpected Attraction by MeeluDrawz

  archiveofourown.org/works/55008391/chapters/139451968

Three years ago, you entered and lost a competition to design a new and original animatronic design. Now, after moving on with your life, you see the fruits of your labor on a news announcement for Fazbear Entertainment's newest animatronic.

~To Shallower Waters by FalseNaiveDreams

  archiveofourown.org/works/54970138/chapters/139348009

Everything was good! It was all fine, the Aurora had everything needed to explore the planet they were headed to.

Nobody understands what went wrong, or how it all happened. Sun and Moon seem to be the only survivors.

----------

When a large titanium mass crashes into the planet, you're excited, finally, something new!

But it turns out you weren't the only one who wanted to investigate, the Reapers, too, also wanted to see what prey lurked within the waters near the crash.

And now there's two finless creatures who seem to live inside a floating den, how curious!

...Perhaps they can figure out what's going on with the infected creatures?

+Employees of Pizza Plex by Galacticbunny

  archiveofourown.org/works/55045201/chapters/139551190

You started working at the Grand Fazco Super Pizza Plex! What could go wrong?

This is a story about making friends, falling in love, and maybe trying to avoid getting killed by an unknown killer who seems to be one of your coworkers.

No biggie!

~My Celestial Beasts by Adaya_Hearts

  archiveofourown.org/works/46103137/chapters/116056426

You have always been fascinated by marine life. Always. Of course your first job would be as a Caretaker for magnificent and exotic creatures that could have only been found in fairy tales. Except they're not.

Here, you find how horrible they have been treated, and you want to change that. Little do you know, your act of kindness rewards you with being the favorite of two leviathans...

[Just slow updates cause I'm Hella busy. But I will finish this book!]

*Technicos Titanum by Kajetan563

  archiveofourown.org/works/54701182/chapters/138630505

To think that there were great machines before space stations… It almost sounds absurd. Unfortunately for me, the existence of those machines is somehow real. I never wanted to get into this mess, but I have to deal with the hijinks that followed.

Let me tell you how it went down, from the very beginning.

~Afton's Folk Tale by Cecezu

 archiveofourown.org/works/52884742/chapters/133769974

Selkie Y/N is on a personal quest to find their mother who was stolen by a human. They had to separate from their pod to do so and brave the unknown world of said humans. They however do not notice the red eyes that watch them. Nor do they realize how much attention a mysterious person showing up out the woods would gain in a small town. Pulled between their quest and Eclipses claws will they be able to find their mother and manage to not enrage the Orca siren?

In this world Fazco is well known for their mystical creature zoo's. The corporation has risen in popularity when they started to showcase creatures that are going extinct because of monster hunters and the creatures being abused for the materials they give by companies like Fazco. Selkies unfortunately are one of the creatures that are going into extinction because of their rather docile temperament and the superstitious beliefs surrounding them.

~~~~~~~~

Orca!Eclipse is directly based off of Naffeclipse's one from Apex Polarity. More info in author notes!

+Point you in the Right Direction by Droplets88

  archiveofourown.org/works/55217824/chapters/140053930

Sun and Moon never really liked adults, never had a reason to.

To them, Sun and Moon were just a thing the adults could control. Forced to serve because they were 'programmed' to. Adults only spelt trouble, only wasting their time on them to order around, complain, or reprogram. At least until you came along.

You were different.

Maybe a friend is all they needed, and maybe that's all you need too.

*Creepy Crawlies by Le_frog

  archiveofourown.org/works/54988756/chapters/139398913

The cold night air rattled the windows, the light of the moon shone through the curtain. Breathing fills the air as you stare at the glowing dots at the base of your bed.

It’s happening again.

TLDR: Reader is plagued with “hallucinations ” of two things in their room at night but what will happen when these ‘things’ start getting more…interested

* "how to be adopted by myths for dummies" a guide made by you. by Stateofmind_maybeimblue

  archiveofourown.org/works/55084321/chapters/139658722

You never expected to meet mythological creatures, but since they are by your side, life has become much more interesting and fun.

or: sun and moon are happy to have a new human friend (don't let moon know that you know hehe)

`Fazbear Zoo by ArtsyFartsyBro

  archiveofourown.org/works/54910234/chapters/139189192

You weren’t particularly fond of the idea of being transferred from your zoo to another. You liked your zoo and you liked your coworkers. You were strictly opposed, however, to sending your zoo’s mated pair of California Condors to another zoo that didn’t even have a designated ornithologist all by themselves. But the zoo they were being transferred to not only was offering to send one of their animals over for breeding, but the owner of the zoo was offering your home zoo a great deal of money for the exchange. Eager to provide greater quality habitats and care to the animals in its care and with a little negotiation, you and your zoo agreed. Now you've got a job at Fazbear Zoo, the only zoo in the world with animatronic staff.

*Majestic Oppositions: The Full Series by Laurzzz

  archiveofourown.org/works/54710149/chapters/138654976

“I don’t suppose you’re here to court me.”, you raise an eyebrow at the stranger, nearly forgetting of the mask you’re still wearing.

“Well then, what do you suppose I would do here, princess?”, he speaks with an omen that foretells danger seething from his smile. It doesn’t faze you, not in the slightest.

“You’re here to kill me.”, nonchalance glazes over your speech. Your hands cling on to the coat covering you with your back relaxing further against the balcony’s barrier.

*Eye of the Beholder by JackOfAllRabbits

 archiveofourown.org/works/53819152/chapters/136216651

A new scientist has been hired to the Faz Co. research facility in the heart of the desert where any number of secrets can be kept. You are full of curiosity and are especially interested in a particularly fascinating subject that Faz Co. is holding.

A certain dangerous alien. Will you get too close for comfort? Is it worth the risk?

*Pollen Pool by JokerSVendetta

 archiveofourown.org/works/54748438/chapters/138758686

You had known you were different from the moment you emerged from the pollen pool.

The community who was supposed to be so loving did not accept you. You were isolated from them, only ever showing your face during new arrivals. You held on to a thread of hope that one day, another would arise from the glowing yellow water and look like you.

During what was supposed to be the last new arrival of the season, you don't quite get exactly what you hoped for, but it was better than you could've imagined.

~Caught in Your Net by EssenceDoesStuff

 archiveofourown.org/works/54984274/chapters/139386190

You’re the captain of the most feared pirate ship in the seas, the Star Runner. However, when you raid another pirate’s ship and find two mers trapped in his nets, things start to change. You expect to never see the mers again, until they start gifting you with treasures to express their gratitude. Will you eventually return their affections? And what’s going on with all these storms?

*Eclipse of the Valley by scarlett_ink

 archiveofourown.org/works/55068079/chapters/139614550

You are in desperate need of a change of pace, an out of the mentally draining life you found yourself in. With the combined inspiration of a total solar eclipse and letter you probably waited too long to have opened, you find yourself moving to the tiny community of Pelican Town nestled in Stardew Valley.

But what happens when there's more magic to this town than you thought, and you realize that you weren't the only one to move into the farm? With nowhere else for your surprise, animatronic roommate to go, it seems like he'll be staying with you for the foreseeable future and he isn't as alone as he first appears. Hopefully, you'll be able to come to terms with your new roommates and maybe if you play your cards right you might just get them to open up to you.

+May I deceive by Jamep0p

  archiveofourown.org/works/51602362/chapters/130431937

You were a robotics engineer,the head leader of the newest Fazbear entertainment animatronic, and just a few days away from the new robot release,you get murdered in your workplace.

This won't stop the animatronic release, and with it, your need to escape.

----------

sorry if it's not that good,im bad at writing summaries

+*Love to the Music by ArtemisRed

  archiveofourown.org/works/55035832/chapters/139524613

You hear the same song, every single day. It's nauseating, the music equivalent of a for horn grating on your nerves with its constant blare. You swore to yourself, when you found your soulmate, you'd make sure they never listened to that damn song again. (That song is the daycare song btw :3 )

-LIGHTS OUT by ERR0R_3X3

  archiveofourown.org/works/48915295/chapters/123401350

It has been 5 years sense the plex burned down, you cash in a favor from an old friend and return to the long abandoned building searching for answers. What will you find when entering this forsaken place? Will is be a blessing or a curse?(This is a sun/moon fic we known damn well what we’ll find)

*Of Hearts in Tarnished Chains by CloudyVoid and CrazedAuthor

 archiveofourown.org/works/54068971/chapters/136886098

You're a thief. One of the best in the business, if you do say so yourself. However, the current situation you find yourself in - locked in a cage and chained with only a shrouded cellmate next door for company - is going to be a bit of a stain on your reputation. And things only go downhill from here.

Between the ogres, goblins, and kobolds holding you hostage, now you also find yourself in the middle of a power struggle for a mysterious box that everyone wants their hands on. Including you, as is your job. But the contents of said box give you pause and set the stage for a whirlwind of trouble. Your hands are tied - almost quite literally - to a barbarian direwolf, an unknown human girl, and your fiery robot cellmate. You realize too late the pay for this job might not be worth it...

`Self-Care Virus by MrMiss

 archiveofourown.org/works/48989017/chapters/123592003

You were apparently bad at taking care of yourself. Your friend installed an app for self-care onto your phone. You honestly forgot about it for weeks, not even opening it. That.. may have been a mistake.

*Feathered Trysts by throatofdelusionincarnate

 archiveofourown.org/works/54505708/chapters/138089872

This fairytale begins as all good fairytales do.

Once upon a time, there lived;

A Ruler who sought to be free

A King who refused to give up

A General whose loyalty damned him

A Sorcerer whose hunger couldn't be sated

All are bound by chains of feathers and gold.

`°If it's for you, it's on the house!° by maggie_iced_coffee

 archiveofourown.org/works/54481045/chapters/138020923

You are a barista in the 1930s, trying to get through the great depression.

Things in your area are finally starting to calm down, but then a certain sun-themed bot walks into your cafe and becomes a regular. That and the rumors behind 'Fazbear's' don't give you much hope. He doesn't seem like a guy to cause trouble, but who knows what kind of shenanigans he may bring into your life.

(I'm kinda bad at summaries sorry! (ꏿ﹏ꏿ;))

*Born and Betrothed by Sunny_Simulation

 archiveofourown.org/works/54164497/chapters/137145538

Story heavily inspired by Strawbubbysugar's "Bethroned" fic! I was given permission to make this, but it isn't tied to bethroned and shouldn't have a lot of similar plot points.

Born for the express purpose of uniting two kingdoms to end a war, you find yourself facing a fate you did not choose, nor deserve.

+Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred? by Lie_nox

 archiveofourown.org/works/54411544/chapters/137829496

Adult life was not for you but you had found a way to survive it, mostly. You didn't have a bad job and although your co-workers were a pain in the ass most of the time, you could say you had a good life.

That is until you are forced to learn how to live with the grief of losing a loved one and ignore the growing depression you had left buried long ago to pass as a functioning adult. With one simple event everything you knew changed, including the daycare attendant behavior towards you.

Will you get used to it as strange things start to happen at the pizzaplex, or will you be just another face on a missing person's poster?

`through pixel eyes by lunarmoves

 archiveofourown.org/works/54397639/chapters/137788825

welcome to version 1.1 of fazpals, your very own virtual desktop friend based on the hit characters from fazbear entertainment's mega pizzaplex! they are able to walk, talk, joke, tell stories, give fun facts, adapt, and play games! fazpals are like no other with their innovative adaptive technology! you'll learn from them as they learn from you!

click the button below if you are ready to meet your new fazpal!

—

signed on as a beta tester for fazco, your job is simple: document any problems with their new program 'fazpals.exe' and help ensure it is ready for release. shouldn't be too difficult, right? right??

wrong.

+Doombop! by RambunctiousToons

 archiveofourown.org/works/52978882/chapters/134021020

You don't get to decide how worthy and deserving you are of friendship. It's unrealistic to believe you can keep a wall up forever, keep yourself from ever caring too much, again.

Then again, just as unrealistic as sentient animatronics prowling the Pizzaplex.

Your metaphors are just as terrible as your jokes.

+Fear Factor by theinksvoid

  archiveofourown.org/works/54371797/chapters/137717413

A person who has a dislike of animatronics and mascots alike gets accepted as a security guard at the one place that feeds her phobia. What's the worst that could happen, right?

*Solis et Lunae by owlitt

  archiveofourown.org/works/55157404/chapters/139873684

Gods are fickle beings. In a world with several deities, each with their own temples and followers, favor can come and go with the wind.

While that goes without saying for mortals, it also holds true to the gods themselves; those who lose favor falling into anonymity, never to have their names revered again.

When you are cast out and forced on the run, you find solace in the one place others had forsaken years ago. Little did you know, this would open the door to a history of betrayal and death among gods.

*(No longer) The Tower of Demons by SpookyLovins

  archiveofourown.org/works/54478696/chapters/138014524

Born and raised as a ruthless Demon with your fathers anger issues, you were crowned Queen of Mischeif, of evil, and now the head honcho of The Tower. The Tower's message being not to fuck with what you can't understand. Its been like this ever since your ancestors created this hell hole, isnt that ironic? Placed somewhere over the highest mountains, your window is just where you can see the other kingdom. It was bright, shiny and happy, all that you wished you could experience, but with the rules of your oath holding you back, like a dog on a leash, your trapped in your own walls.

That is, until you meet two very peculiar fighters, it was silly to think that maybe . . They had given you hope.

+Reach for the Star by CookyCoconut

 archiveofourown.org/works/52928230/chapters/133885441

You are a new animatronic in the superstar daycare. You are supposed to be shown the ropes by mister Sunnydrop himself, but he takes your being here as an attack on his ability to run the daycare himself. Can you manage to get him to like you? Why doesn't he let you into the room he's supposed to share with you? Who is his mysterious counterpart? Is that a bunny with a knife?

+Fighting for your hand by somerandonamedz

 archiveofourown.org/works/47591212/chapters/119944564

You’ve worked at the daycare for around a month, Sun and Moon have been acting weird lately, and you came back from a week long vacation

Little do you know there’s a new person, and they’re all fighting each other for your love

*How It Began by Beyond0My0Dreams

  archiveofourown.org/works/54263971/chapters/137421073

I.O.G! Institution Of the Gifted! You've heard about it, a place where people who possess an ability go, but as someone who doesn't harness such an ability you were still being sent there. Why? The answer was simple. You were broken and this was your parents last resort. Having grown up lacking emotions and pain tolerance made your family a laughing stock to others, now this was their only way to prove you weren't a hollow of a person. If only you were gifted, then it would solve all your problems, right?

~Where The Sea Tides Rise || Sun&Moon×Reader by Mountain_ofaman

  archiveofourown.org/works/54301654/chapters/137525212

The reader is a mermaid, and the boys are pirates.

What happens when the reader is fished up by these two pirate Lovers?

`Domestic Teachings by Trashyginger689

  archiveofourown.org/works/53041786/chapters/134194708

The world is changing and it's changing quickly. You need to help your friends function in society for the first time in their lives. The silly daycare attendants need your help the most and you'll do everything in your power to make this new journey easier for them. They seem excited to take on this journey by your side.

+From security guard to emotional support human by HarmfulGiggles

  archiveofourown.org/works/43985323/chapters/110594230

This is one of part of a series. Each one will hold one couple. This one is Sun and Moon x Quiet Dream Walker Reader. Most of these will be a slow burn and all will lead to the final arc. I can't figure out the collection thing so it shall have the series name here. Series name Coping With Time.

+Umbraphilia by ArkhamCrow

  archiveofourown.org/works/51870484/chapters/131151535

The management at Freddy's Fazbear's Mega Pizza Plex have learned exactly where to go shop for new members of the Pizzaria's Family! ...that the general populace doesn't care about. But hey- that's fine. The Daycare Attendant knows how to look after brats. And this one seems almost custom made for them.

-Of sunlight, through midnight by Adriana_elise_abbott

  archiveofourown.org/works/53841406/chapters/136276123

You are looking for a building, hoping to open your own bakery, and hark, oh my gosh, the damaged pizza plex is suddenly for sale? Well, that isn't weird.

Oh, the government is offering to help pay to either repair or remove it? Nothing odd here.

Nope.

*Otherworldly by tintiz

  archiveofourown.org/works/54519670/chapters/138129802

You're an outcast.

Nothing but a "demon spawn," at least, according to the villagers of your town, that's all you are.

All because of an ability you never asked to be born with.

Clairvoyance.

And now you're a sleep-deprived demonologist, investigating a case of what could potentially be haunted property on the outskirts of your village. A family of 3 lived in the house, but you could see much more than just 3 people there.

One of them extremely malevolent.

+Superstar Daycare Days by moss04

  archiveofourown.org/works/54657133/chapters/138509434

Unfortunately for them, the Daycare assistant was constantly replaced. When would they finally learn to just cancel the position? Countless employees had been placed in the Daycare, and they had all asked to be relocated within a month.

What happens when the new assistant is surprisingly very different from the past ones? What kind of mischief or happenings will go on?

*As long as we are loved by ShiraCheshire

  archiveofourown.org/works/54656689/chapters/138507916

Many people mistakenly believe that unaging is the same as immortal.

That our machines, our toys, our art will live on forever.

But the truth is, such things cannot maintain themselves without our care and they will live for exactly as long as someone loves them.

[sissylittlefeather]

Told you I'd come back to my OG series eventually...

A/N: this one goes after Always, Honey and before I Missed You. I still don't have it in me to write the really sad stuff about him leaving and coming back from the army. I'll get there. For now enjoy this fluffy, smutty little romance.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, cussing, fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, risky sex lol

As an aside, I did research for this one (you should see my search history) and this is how the internet suggested to do this... so if I had them do it wrong, blame the internet lol I have no personal experience with this one.

Because...

"Somebody get y/n!!! Elvis Presley is on the phone for her!"

You hear Debbie's voice call down the hallway. There's a phone downstairs and someone has sent up word that there's a call for you. Obviously, all of the girls are in a tizzy once they find out who is calling you.

"Elvis Presley? Really?"

"How do you know him?!"

"Is it really him?!"

You try to make your way through the throng of girls that has gathered in the hallway. You've been seeing Elvis for a few months now, but no one really knows about it, except Margie, your roommate. Finally, you make it to the stairs and run down to the lobby and the front desk.

"Someone said there was a call for me?" You ask breathlessly.

"You y/n?"

"Yes."

"Here you go." They hand you the receiver.

"Hello? Elvis?"

"Hey, honey!" His warm southern drawl touches you, even through the phone.

"Hey! What's going on?"

"Meet me at the corner of 4th and Walnut in thirty minutes. I'll pick you up." You agree because even if you had things going on, seeing him is worth cancelling plans, but you don't have anything to do anyway. It's also way too late at night, but you're not worried about being out past curfew if he's involved.

A half hour later, you're standing at the correct corner, waiting for him in a baby blue and white pinstriped dress and cardigan. You're starting to get nervous that he isn't coming when you hear something loud making its way down the street. That's when you see him, perched on top of a brand new, shiny black motorcycle. He pulls up next to you and cuts the engine off.

"You wanna go for a ride, baby?" You've never ridden a motorcycle before, but he looks so delicious in his black pants, white shirt open to the middle of his chest and black hat. There's no way you can say no to him.

"Yes, please." You nod feverishly. Seeing him like this makes you want to ride more than a motorcycle, but you'll settle for the bike. For now.

"Come on, honey." You climb onto the back of the motorcycle and wrap your arms around his waist, tucking your skirt up under yourself tightly.

You ride for a while around town before he heads down a road that you know will take you away from civilization. He starts to move a little faster and you slide closer to him, pressing your body up against his back. You don't think anything of it until he hits a bump. You gasp and try to adjust your grip. In doing so, your hand slides a little further down than you intended and you accidentally grab between his legs. When you do, you're shocked to discover he's sporting a pretty prominent erection.

You feel him tense up and your mouth drops open a little. You move your hand away from him quickly, but it's too late. All he can do is laugh. You squeeze him tighter, purposefully pressing your breasts up against him this time. He gets the hint and takes a side road off of the highway. Eventually, the road leads to an empty clearing that looks out over the city. He pulls up and stops the motorcycle, putting out the center stand.

"So, do you like the bike, baby?" He looks over his shoulder, trying to gauge your reaction. Between the vibration of the motor and what you felt between his legs, your panties are soaked. You answer him breathlessly as he leans back against you.

"Yes..." then you bite his earlobe and move your hands back down to his hardness. You start to move your hand on him, rubbing him through his pants. He lays his head back and moans softly.

"C'mere." He reaches back and pulls you around to straddle him on the bike. Running his hands up under your skirt, he leans in and kisses you, his tongue sliding into your mouth playfully.

He starts to pull your panties down and realizes that he won't be able to get them off in your current position. To solve the problem, he rips them at the seam on each side and yanks them out from under you, tossing them to the side. He brings his hands back to your center and slides two fingers into your wetness.

"Oh, honey, you do like the bike." You moan into his mouth as he moves his fingers in and out of you. You reach down and unbutton his pants, freeing the erection he's had since you first grabbed him. Using your hand, you pump him up and down, sliding his foreskin back and forth. Now, it's his turn to moan and you continue to touch each other like this for a while. Eventually, you slide toward him and let him push into you and fill you up while you straddle him.

"Ohhh fuck, Elvis." You cry out as you grind your hips against his, pushing him deeper and deeper with every thrust. He smiles at the way you always cuss when he's inside you. Your arms are around his neck and you kiss him fully on the mouth. After a good bit of time in this position, he gently pushes your hips back off of him.

"I wanna try somethin'." He whispers in your ear. "Turn around." You obey instructions and stand up, turn around and get back on the bike, with your hands on the handlebars. He hikes your skirt up over you until your whole bottom half is exposed. He sits you back down on top of him, pushing into you deeply. Then, he kicks the motorcycle on. The vibration of the motor is right on your clit and you cry out in pleasure. He stands up a little bit, holding onto your hips and fucking you steadily from behind.

"Oh fucking shit!" You scream as you come hard on top of him. He keeps thrusting, pushing into you from behind over and over. You can tell his climax is coming from the way he pounds into you repeatedly.

"Yeah, baby. Just like that." He says it barely louder than a whisper. You whimper as he keeps fucking you, the bike still running and vibrating against you.

Finally, he slams into you and cries out.

"Yes! Fuck! Y/n yes!" You feel his warmth fill you up and you come again with him, tumbling into your orgasm wildly. After a few seconds, he turns the bike off and leans you back against him, kissing your neck.

"That is, without question, the hottest thing I've ever done." He whispers in your ear.

"Me too." You answer softly. He squeezes your hips one last time before you stand up off of him and the motorcycle, throwing your leg back over to stand up next to him. Your legs are shaking though and he has to steady you with his hands on your hips.

"My panties are ruined. And I'm not sure I can ride back right now." You laugh as your legs continue to shake.

"Here, come with me." He gets off of the bike and leads you to a soft patch of grass. He lays down and gestures for you to lay down with him.

"Let's just be here together for a while and look at the stars." As you lay on the cool grass together, he takes your hand and holds it on his chest.

"Y/n, I've never felt this way about anyone before."

"I think that's because I just fucked you on your motorcycle." You laugh and look over at him. He looks back at you, but his face is serious.

"No, really. I feel things for you that I never thought I would feel." You can't take your eyes away from his, wondering what he might say next.

"I think I'm falling in love with you."

Your heart skips several beats. You've known you loved him for a while now, since the show where he ended up in the back of a cop car, but you never dreamed he would say it or even feel it too.

"No. I know I'm in love with you." You still can't answer him as he looks at you with those piercing blue eyes.

"And not because we just made love on my motorcycle. Because I can't stop thinking about the way your hair falls in your eyes or how you laugh at everything that I say, even when no one else knows I'm being funny. Because you're the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing before I go to sleep. Because it feels like I might suffocate when I can't be with you. Because you're smart and sweet and you have a fire in you that no one could ever put out. Because my heart only feels whole when I'm with you. I love you, y/n. I'm in love with you." He finishes his sentence and watches you nervously as you take in everything that he's saying. He kisses your fingers and you can feel his hand trembling.

"I love you too, Elvis." You want to say more but he rolls over and kisses you before you can. You lay there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms, before you realize that the sun will be coming up soon.

"We need to head back." You say reluctantly. He kisses you two or three more times before he groans and rolls over to stand up. You take the hand he offers you and walk back to the motorcycle. He climbs on and then helps you get situated behind him. The bike rumbles as he turns it on and begins the journey back to campus, so you can try to sneak into your dorm.

When you get there, the sun is just starting to peek over the horizon. He parks the bike and gets off, throwing his arm around you.

"Can I stay with you?"

"Margie is there."

"I don't care. I just want to keep holding you." You take his hand and lead him up to your dorm room. By the time you lay down in bed, the sun is making its presence known. He doesn't seem to be worried about it though as he wraps himself around you in your bed and falls into a deep sleep.

When Margie sees the two of you snuggled together asleep, she shrugs her shoulders and grabs her toothbrush. There's something kind of undeniable about the two of you and she's not one to mess with anyone's happiness. You must've had a long night. She lets you sleep together and sneaks out of the room.

When the door closes, Elvis wakes up a little bit, throws his arm over you protectively, and goes back to sleep. Not a thing in the world could move him from his happy place beside you in your bed...

******

Taglist:

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley @mrsbutler99 @blog777e @cattcb @delulubutidontcare

I'm sorry if I tag you and you don't want to be tagged! But I'd hate to not tag you if you want to be... you see where I'm coming from... 🫶🏽

[relgnira]

Uh week 2 of @shepscapades drawing challenge thing! Ive had this sketched for like a week and finally finished it haha

Its a Celeste au! Celeste is my favorite game ever if you havent played it please please please give it a shot its so good. These are just the first thoughts that came to me when I thought about this, so have my unrefined brain crystals ~

Transcribed the written text under the cut:

Part of Cleo (Joe)

• does actually have a “human” form but prefers to be a bird around people other than Cleo for the ~mystery~

• more helpful than Cleo

Old Woman (Cleo)

• elderly woman who lives on the mountain and seems to enjoy hasseling hikers

• very confidant in herself, once she sees how determined Grian is she helps him find his confidence

• they become good friends post mountain

Grian

• pretty much the same motives as Madeline

• heard about Celeste mountain from his best friend Jimmy

• can’t believe he’s actually doing this

Part of Grian

• extremely impulsive to the point of danger, but will begin an anxious spiral afterwords that causes the world to distort and eyes to open everywhere

• when accepted, he gives the triple jump ability with a flap of wings

Mumbo

• one of the civil engineers that worked on the now-forsaken city

• got unlucky and just died at his desk one day, but he hasn’t realized yet and keeps frantically trying to finish an already-abandoned city

• when he meets Grian, he thinks he is there to finally approve his designs and keeps trying to show him his models and plans

Scar

• claims to be climbing the mountain to get some painting inspo, but maybe he is trying to escape something as well…

• will show a fold-out wallet full of Jellie pics if prompted (or even if he isn’t)

[luminalunii97]

A quick update on what's been going on in Iran

In the last month or so, the street protests have decreased. There have been sporadic demonstrations here and there but the fire from the first three months has paled. I believe soon the fire is going to be back because the financial situation is getting worse by hour now and the regime, instead of appealing to people's good side, has been enforcing inhuman laws stronger than before.

On the 40th day memorial of 2 of the executed protesters, the fire did come back alive and there were multiple big demonstrations in many cities around Iran.

The obligatory hijab law is being enforced harsher than before. Many of my fellow iranian women still refuse to wear hijab out considering all the risks. In the last two weeks, at least two drugstores have been closed because the pharmacist owning the place refused to wear hijab. A couple of higher education students have been banned from using the national library because they took off their hijab inside of the library, and many university students have been forced to sign statements that said they promise to not take their hijab off again or else they're going to be expelled from university and they won't be able to attend any university inside of Iran again. The regime has also threatened women who don't wear hijab on the streets that they would disable their id cards and ban them from receiving social services.

A female engineer also did something really courageous in an event and I suggest you check that out. The news links are below.

More than a week before the earthquake in Turkey and Syria, there was an earthquake in Khoy, a northwestern city in Iran. Not only the Islamic Republic didn't send any help to the city, they tried so hard to stop us, people, from sending help there. They restricted some of the celebrities bank accounts and prevented people from raising money for the city. Turkey even offered their aid but the regime refused. People of other cities did send some food and clothes and blankets for the victims of the earthquake in the end. Even though the casualties of the earthquake wasn't high, many people lost their homes and had to reside in tents in cold snowy weather. But the most bewildering thing was that when the turkey earthquake happened the Islamic Republic volunteered to send help to Syria while still doing nothing for the people in Khoy. Unsurprisingly the help packages they sent to Syria didn't reach the places where earthquake happened, instead it went to Assad inventory.

Also this guy, a true hero. A human rights activist to his very core:

This is it for now. I appreciate anyone who has supported people of iran so far. We won't forget you. Woman life freedom ✌️

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! My play group has recently begun a PF2e game and we're enjoying it, but as an almost-forever-GM running one-shots looking for The Next Big Game to run I'm definitely noticing a trend of "a small run of bad rolls has decided you lose" that stands in contrast to a more subjectively "forgiving" system like Cypher or Quest. I know any dice-based game can theoretically end up with the dice deciding "you lose tonight," but it got me to thinking about that feeling in trying new systems. We definitely love mechanics in play - i.e. I'm not strictly looking for diceless systems, but they're not off the table either - so I'd love to hear about games you like and think are on the forgiving side of the spectrum with regards to bad luck streaks. Thank you!

THEME: “Forgiving” Games.

Hello friend, I love these kinds of games a lot. Here's a few outside of Numenera, which you already seem to know about. I tried to stick with games that have some longevity, although I'm not sure how long you can play Our Haunt as a campaign.

Vaesen, by Free League Publishing.

Welcome to the Mythic North – northern Europe of the nineteenth century, but not as we know it today. A land where the myths are real. A cold reach covered by vast forests, its few cities lonely beacons of industry and enlightenment – a new civilization dawning. But in the countryside, the old ways still hold sway. There, people know what lurks in the dark. They know to fear it.

Vaesen – Nordic Horror Roleplaying is written by Nils Hintze and based on the work of Swedish illustrator and author Johan Egerkrans. Vaesen presents a dark Gothic setting steeped in Nordic folklore and the old myths of Scandinavia. The game mechanics utilize an adapted version of the award-winning Year Zero Engine.

Vaesen allows players to do something called pushing the roll, although you can only do it once per any given action. You will roll a number of six-sided dice according to a skill + attribute combination, and aim to roll 6’s, which are successes. Pushing the roll allows you to re-roll any dice that did not come up as a 6, thus giving you a second chance - or a chance to be more effective, if you need more than one 6 to do what you want to do.

Since Vaesen is a horror game, however, this push doesn’t come without a cost. Choosing to Push a roll means that your character will have to take on a condition, which is represented as either a Physical or Mental injury or affliction. Take too many in the same category, and your character becomes Broken, thus requiring immediate medical attention. Conditions can be healed and cured, so how deadly your game is depends on how little (or much) rest time your characters have in between encounters.

Genesys, by Edge Studio.

Face down a dragon as a brave knight, hack into a corporate security system as an elite runner, set sail in your airship. Unlimited adventure awaits you in Genesys,  a new roleplaying system designed for a variety of settings and limited only by your imagination.

The Genesys experience begins with the Genesys Core Rulebook, which features an explanation of the innovative narrative dice system and core mechanics of the game, an overview of five different settings in which to place campaigns, and advice for Game Masters to craft a myriad of adventures with unparalleled freedom.

So I’d really like to recommend the Star Wars RPG that spearheaded this system, but as far as I understand it’s getting harder and harder to get a hold of. The core system, however, is still available on DriveThruRPG, and I really like how it handles dice rolls. The Genesys system uses a custom set of dice that have three different levels of results: advantage/threat, success/failure, and triumph/despair. These symbols typically cancel each-other out. Both positive and negative dice have a number of different symbols on their faces, and rolling more successes for example, means you’re not going to have less advantages, while rolling a higher number of threats will lead to less failures.

This means that the two most common rolls you will get will be Success with a Threat and Failure with an Advantage. Therefore each roll has both a positive and negative result. If you end up rolling extra-special dice, you might end up with a Triumph and/or a Despair, which happen regardless of any other rolls. So you could have a Failure with an Advantage and a Triumph - which might mean that maybe you don’t unlock that door, but maybe you hear someone coming and duck into a hidey-hole before they show up - and they turn out to be an ally.

Genesys is a toolkit that you can use to make your own game, but if you want a setting to go with it, you might want to check out Realms of Terrinoth (Fantasy), Keyforge: Secrets of the Crucible (gonzo sci-fantasy), or Shadow of the Beanstalk (cyberpunk).

Masks: A New Generation, by Magpie Games.

Halcyon City has had more than its fair share of superheroes, superteams, supervillains, and everything in between. Your team of young supers must forge your own path amidst the pressures of a world full of people telling you what to do and who to be, and kick some butt along the way!

Masks: A New Generation is a superhero tabletop roleplaying game full of action, youthful angst, and dazzling bravery. Take on the roles of members of the latest generation of superheroes, young adults trying to figure out who they are and what kind of heroes they want to be.

MASKS is well-known and for a good reason. It’s an excellent introduction to the PbtA framework, and contains a lot of solid advice for the person who’s running the game. One of the core pieces of advice that you can take from this game to others in the same system-family is that of Soft and Hard moves. When a PC rolls a 6 or less, the ball is in your court, but as the GM, it’s up to you how bad the character fails. Soft and Hard moves are a key part of this.

While a straight-up failure may be needed once in a while, sometimes all you need to do is telegraph danger, and give your players another chance to try a different approach. This is called a Soft Move. You might place the characters in an eerie atmosphere but give them a chance to act, or present them with an NPC asking difficult questions, but give them space to answer. You might not even require them to roll at all - if you think that the hero should be able to do something, they’ll do it.

Finally, since Masks is about teenage superheroes, death isn’t really on the table. What’s at stake is their self-image, and that is reflected in the emotional damage the characters take. This chance to wrestle with why they truly are might even be something welcome for the players to dig into - I know me and my friends sometimes found moments of interpersonal conflict to be the most rewarding.

Endeavour, by Armiger Games.

You are an officer aboard the Interstellar Confederation Ship Endeavour. Your mission is to explore the galaxy. You will travel deep into uncharted space where you will encounter strange phenomena, make first contact with alien civilizations, and help those in need.

This is an optimistic-science fiction game. It is a game about a future in which humanity has progressed beyond the kinds of internecine conflicts that plague modern society. Advanced technology is common and has created a post-scarcity society throughout the Interstellar Confederation.

Stories in Endeavour generally involve some kind of moral quandary. Moreover, the futuristic setting acts as lens through which we can view contemporary social issues. The best such stories are fundamentally about the difficult choices the crew are asked to make and how they are affected by their experiences.

Endeavour is a play-set for AGON, a game about Greek Heroes setting out to make a name for themselves. You need AGON to play, but the rules for both these games take a very unique approach to solving problems.

Almost every conflict present in Endeavour is a collaborative Challenge. This means that any time an obstacle presents itself, the group has a chance to face it as a team. Facing Challenges as a team increases chances of success in two ways: in one way, since each player might be participating, there is a higher chance that one person or another rolls a high enough number to pass the challenge. However, players can also choose to aid each-other, foregoing a chance to gain Distinction but improving another player’s chance at success.

Our Haunt, by Rae Nedjadi.

We are ghosts. We are in a house we don't recognize. We have a handful of memories, and these memories are brief moments and flashes of barely something. The Living are nearby, and they encroach on our space, making their demands. Worse, there is a Thing in the Walls. It is ancient, inhuman. Hungry, yearning. Angry.

But this is Our Haunt now. This is our home, and we only have each other as family. If we take care of each other, good things will happen. We just know it.

Our Haunt uses a diceless system called Belonging Outside Belonging, or No Dice, No Masters. This can be GM-less, but it doesn’t have to be - and I definitely recommend checking other games that use this system if you want to control the level of failure.

BoB games use a token-based economy, where following certain prompts on your character sheet will give your character the ability to use other abilities listed on their character sheet. This creates a rhythm, between moves that invite interesting interactions or complications, and moves that push the story forward, or allow you to do something special.

Each playbook usually also has special moves that the character can do for free, that neither earn nor spend a token. Because the use of tokens is up to the players, failure will only happen when you decide it happens, and every failure banks a potential success, so even if Our Haunt isn’t what you’re looking for tone-wise, I definitely recommend checking out other Belonging outside Belonging games.

Slugblaster, by Wilkie’s Candy Lab.

In the small town of Hillview, teenage hoverboarders sneak into other dimensions to explore, film tricks, go viral, and get away from the problems at home. It’s dangerous. It’s stupid. It’s got parent groups in a panic. And it’s the coolest thing ever.

This is Slugblaster. A table-top rpg about teenagehood, giant bugs, circuit-bent rayguns, and trying to be cool.

Forged in the Dark games allow you to succeed at least partially on a result of a 4 or higher, so you’re much more likely to succeed with a cost than straight up fail, and even if you do take some kind of consequence, that consequence can always be thrown off by using something called a Resistance Roll. The original system, Blades in the Dark, still felt pretty brutal if you played it as written. However, Mikey Hamm, the designer for Slugblaster, wanted to make a game about teenagers hoverboarding across dimensions, not hardened criminals surviving in a brutal city, so he made some key changes.

Kids in Slugblaster may take “slams”, but no damage is permanent. Staying in another dimension too long may trigger an unpleasant experience called peelback, but it doesn’t kill you, and if you log a bunch of doom (the game’s Stress equivalent), you don’t take a permanent condition - you worry your folks, or have to spend your extra free time doing homework. At its core, Slugblaster’s biggest threat is losing your status - you’re not really in physical danger.

Other Games to Check Out

Wanderhome, by Jay Dragon.

Spectaculars, by Scratchpad Publishing.

[ot3]

another thing that rubs me the wrong way is i'm not really sure how i feel about the show's depiction of industrialization. it just seems to start from the assumption that progress of civilization Means industrializing and in my memory of the episodes i watched it doesn't do much to interrogate that assumption at all. the original show definitely showed technological advancements and some industrial locations but it was always careful to depict those things with a careful balance of consideration for the environment.

for example, take the eastern air temple, where the old architecture has been appropriated by modern engineering. and aang hates this, because this is something sacred to his people that's being rebuilt by outsiders. but the thing teo does that changes aang's mind about what's been done to this sacred place is when he shows aang the little crab that still lives there, pointing out that the creatures that inhabit the land are probably descendants of the same ones that lived there in aang's time, and they were the real stewards of that place's history. the eastern air temple refugees were able to live in harmony with the natural environment even.

then take the town in the painted lady, where the local factory is making the town uninhabitable, killing all the fish, polluting the river, and causing the villagers to get sick. this isn't an act of colonial violence because the factory and village are both fire nation homeland. this is an act of industrial violence. and the resolution to is aang and katara unambiguously committing an act of ecoterrorism and shutting it the fuck down. But that isnt the end of the episode! The end of the episode is everyone bending together to clean the river! The victory isn't destroying a factory that was aiding the fire nation in the war, the victory was restoring the natural landscape, making it clean, making it safe.

And on top of that it just feels a little bit lazy. It just feels like steampunk with a bending paint job slapped on top rather than any genuine consideration for what this world might look like as it advances its technologies. For example: why doesn't republic city have anything resembling omashu's delivery chutes? That's an iconic piece of earth kingdom engineering that would have made sense to make its way into the new cosmopolitan capital of the world.

[seasidesandstarscapes]

the road less traveled

Summary: Don thinks he's content with his life but a car by the side of the road changes all that

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Modern AU, Strangers to Lovers, Dealing With Grief, Emotional Sex, One Shot

Words: 4063

A/N: Inspired by All Through The Night and Unconformity....

-

AO3

or

It’s a cool autumn evening as Don drives down the barren highway.

One, maybe two cars pass him and he still has a good half hour until he gets home. The radio is low, barely heard over the rumble of the truck and set to some station Don doesn’t care to remember. The flat landscape does nothing to alleviate his boredom, but it’s home. 

Don has never thought about leaving. His very soul is etched into the earth here and he fears he’ll lose himself if he takes one step into a city. He’s comfortable. That has to be enough. 

The setting sun paints the sky in striking orange and red, like a field of poppies. Amongst all the cornfields, it’s a welcome change and Don starts humming to himself. 

That’s when he notices the car sitting on the side of the road. No more than a cursory glance, but that’s all it takes. He speeds past, then his mind betrays him. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Don can’t shake his worry.

He doesn’t recognize the vehicle and for anyone not familiar with the area, they’re a long way from civilization. Just leaving it be is not an option.

Don brings his truck to a crawl, double checks his surroundings before making a sharp u-turn. This surge of bravery is new and Don does not shy away. He can’t with the way it grips his soul. 

With his truck parallel to the parked car, Don can see someone sitting inside and his heart pounds in his chest. This isn’t safe. This could be his last moment on earth, yet Don doesn’t care. He is slow to approach and as he nears, a face comes into view.

The man looks to be around his age, his hands gripped tight to the steering wheel despite the car not being on. Don reaches the driver’s door and that’s when he sees the tear stained cheeks, blue eyes caught in watery depths. 

An old hollow ache settles in his stomach. He thought this pain was long gone, but it rears its head with a vengeance. 

Heaving a sigh, Don knocks on the window and the man’s head whips towards him. His stare is wide, scared as he wipes at his face, but he makes no other move.

“You alright?” Don asks, leaning down so they’re face to face.

The man hesitates, mouth trembling before he cracks open the door. “My car won’t start.”

Don nods, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. “Mind if I take a look?”

Popping the hood takes longer than he expects but Don’s not going to complain. He looks over the engine, asks the man to crank the key a few more times. It’s more than a dead battery but without his tools, Don can’t do much.

“I live down the way. I can tow your car to my place and we can fix it there?” 

The silence is a beat too long and Don looks at his shoes, kicks at a few stray pebbles. Here he is asking a complete stranger to come to his place. The fact that the man hasn’t locked his doors is a miracle in itself. Don just waits, hoping the situation will sort itself out.

“Okay,” the man says at last and gingerly gets out of his car.

Don holds back the smile that threatens to spread across his face and he goes back to his truck, maneuvers it until he’s parked in front of the man’s car. 

He doesn’t ask for help as he hooks everything up. The man looks distraught enough as is. An intense gaze follows his every move, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Any other day Don would have some choice words. In this moment, however, he finds comfort in the stare. Waiting for praise when he does the right thing. The compliments never come but that’s alright. 

Once everything is ready to go, Don watches as the man climbs into the passenger side of his truck and he starts back down the road again.

“I’m Don,” he introduces. 

It’s odd. He’s never this forward, but something about this man feels familiar. Almost as if he’s had dozens of conversations with him before.

“Bobby,” the man nods, his gaze darting around. “Where is this exactly?”

“Middle of nowhere,” Don can’t help himself. “Nearest supermarket is an hour away.”

Bobby hums at this, watching the scenery pass by. He opens his mouth as if he wants to say more, but decides against it. Don doesn’t mind. He’s used to sitting with his own thoughts and he focuses on getting the two of them home.

Finally, he turns down a dusty road and the familiar farmhouse comes into view. It’s almost dark by now, the stars just beginning to dot the indigo sky. Don parks his truck next to the faded red barn and a glaring thought sits on his mind. 

“It’s late,” Bobby notes. “Maybe you could drop me off at a motel or something and we can look at the car in the morning?”

“Or you could stay here.” The words leave Don’s mouth before he can stop himself and he shakes his head in apology. “Right. You’re right.”

“I mean, if you don’t mind putting me up for the night,” Bobby’s voice is soft, his stare almost pleading. 

Don figures if Bobby was dangerous, he would’ve been stabbed by now. Instead, there’s a kindred understanding in their silence. He wants to reach out, knead whatever worries away, but all he gives is a nod. The corner of Bobby’s mouth quirks and he gets out of the truck, waits for Don’s next move. 

After turning off his truck, Don leads Bobby into the house while checking over his shoulder to make sure he’s following. The screen door creaks and when Don turns on the lights, the glow is soft, bulbs flickering every now and then. 

“Water?” Don offers as Bobby follows him into the kitchen.

“Yeah, thanks,” Bobby sits down at the table. His voice is raspy, worn and Don wonders if he had been screaming earlier.

Handing Bobby a glass of water, Don sets to finding anything edible in his house. He has a few potatoes, some leftover steak, and he throws it all on the counter, figuring out things as he goes along. The kitchen is quiet save for Don peeling the potatoes and for the first time in his life, he wishes someone would fill in the gaps. He doesn’t care to know others’ business, doesn’t need anyone but himself. He’s lived this way for years so why this man is turning him on his head is beyond Don.

“Did you get lost?” Don speaks before he can stop himself. 

“Yeah,” Bobby sighs. “I’m supposed to go home for my old man’s funeral but…”

Don and Bobby still at the same time. A part of Don wants to look over his shoulder, but he doesn’t and stares daggers into the potatoes. 

“I’m sorry,” Don frowns, unsure of what else to say.

There is a sigh from Bobby, but so much lies behind it. As if Bobby has pulled himself up a mountain but there is still more to climb. 

“I have to go back, but I don’t want to,” Bobby’s voice is small, trembling. “I can’t face them. It’s been too long.”

Don sets down the peeler in his hand and finally dares to look at Bobby. His stare is far away, his shoulders tense as he presses a knuckle to his mouth. Bobby shakes his head once, twice, before running a hand through his hair. 

“You got a shower?”

Don nods and proceeds to show Bobby the way to the bathroom. The stairs creak, unfamiliar with the extra weight, but it reassures Don that Bobby is behind him. 

“Towels are just in the cabinet there,” Don points when Bobby steps into the bathroom. 

“Thanks,” Bobby takes his time to look over the space and Don excuses himself.

“I’ll leave some clothes for you just outside the door.” He doesn’t look at Bobby, hurries away before anything else can happen. 

Once the bathroom door shuts with a firm click, Don lets out a heavy breath. He hates this. There’s something about Bobby that awakens a flame inside Don. He can’t tell if he wants to hug Bobby, or hell, even kiss him.

The man is grieving and Don just wants to help. There’s layers and layers, perhaps they’d be an awful fit, but Don is intrigued at the very least. With a muttered curse to himself, Don finds an old shirt and flannel pants that he thinks will fit Bobby and leaves them by the door. The shower is running and Don takes a moment. He wonders if Bobby is crying or if he’s just washing off the day’s grime. 

It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t.

Don forces himself downstairs and tries to get dinner ready. Bobby’s just here for the night. By this time tomorrow, they’ll have forgotten all about each other. 

Just as the potatoes are boiling, Bobby comes down, dressed in the clothes Don offered. He looks a little less worse for wear, but it’s clear he’s tired, haggard posture, bags under his eyes. 

Don serves up the meager meal, but Bobby doesn’t make any complaint. In fact, he seems famished as he shoves the food into his mouth, barely taking any breaths between bites. Don doesn’t mean to watch, but it’s almost endearing. By the time Bobby finishes his plate, Don has barely started his. 

“Do you want more?” Don asks as Bobby nudges his plate away.

“No, that was enough. Thank you,” the trace of a smile graces Bobby’s face and Don’s heart thumps in his chest. “You not hungry?” 

Don flushes and takes a large bite of his food. Except now he can’t reply, so he just gives a half-hearted shrug. A small laugh leaves Bobby and sits back in his chair, glancing around the room. 

“You have this place all to yourself?”

Swallowing down his food, Don nods. “Yeah, it was left to me after my parents died.”

Bobby looks at him and Don can see the questions on his face. He doesn’t ask however, leaving Don to stare at his plate.

“Car accident. My grandma took me in and then she died. I’ve been on my own ever since,” Don doesn’t mean to be so casual, but after all these years, it’s just how his life has been. 

“You wish you had more time with them?” Bobby asks. There’s a bit of trepidation in his voice and Don senses something more behind this.

“Of course,” Don answers. “I was ten…just starting to figure myself out.” He pauses before locking eyes with Bobby. “What about you?”

Bobby looks away, his hand on the table clenching into a fist. “I don’t know,” he admits at last. 

Don doesn’t reply. Doesn’t even know what he could say. Here they’ve lost, yet it’s so different that Don isn’t sure he can relate. 

Bobby gets up from the table then and he shifts as if indecisive of what to do next. 

“Oh, yeah,” Don shakes his head. “First door on the right. Guest bedroom.”

With a nod, Bobby disappears, leaving Don to deal with the turmoil inside of him. He could follow after, try to get Bobby to talk, but that’s too personal. They’re strangers after all. 

Suddenly not hungry, Don pushes his plate away with a sigh. He needs a distraction and he heads into the living room, hoping for some respite from the tiring day he’s had so far.

~

It’s near midnight when Don hears a creak on the stairs. He glances up from his book and watches the shadows shift around the room. The lamp is his only light as Bobby appears from the darkness, his steps slow, hesitant. 

Finally, Bobby settles on the couch near Don and he sinks into the cushions, staring straight ahead. Don closes his book to sit in silence with Bobby, curiosity sitting on his mind. The air is thick and Don counts the seconds that tick by. 

He isn’t sure how it happens, but before he knows it, Bobby is sitting on his lap, hands braced on his shoulders. Even in the dim lamp light, his eyes shimmer like a river on a sunny day. His stare is focused, as if searching for Don’s soul and Don swallows, letting his hands fall to Bobby’s hips. 

It’s a split second before they crash together and Don holds Bobby impossibly close. It’s messy, mouths opening, tongues tangling, small gasps and moans leaving both men. By the time the embrace ends, Don’s face is warm, he and Bobby are panting as they stare into each other’s eyes. 

They should take a moment to think about this, but Don throws all caution to the wind as he captures Bobby’s lips with his own. Bobby is perfect, the whines that leave him are music to Don’s ears. He breaks the kiss, trails his mouth down Bobby’s jaw and bites down on his neck. Bobby arches into Don, grinds their crotches together.

Don can’t help himself and he moves Bobby to lay down on the couch as he hovers above him. Bobby bites down on his lip, has his hands above his head and Don crumbles. He pins Bobby’s wrists down, nips some more at his neck. 

“Fuck, Don,” Bobby sighs, wiggling underneath him. 

Don is quick to rid Bobby of his shirt and he kisses down his chest, traces his fingers along Bobby’s sides until he reaches the waistband of Bobby’s pants. In one swift movement, he pulls them off with his underwear and Bobby groans, pulling Don back up for another kiss. 

Reaching in between them, Don gives Bobby’s cock a few pulls, swallowing down the little moans that leave him. His other hand digs into Bobby’s waist and Bobby fits like a glove. He’s meant to be here, nothing can convince Don otherwise. 

As reluctant as he is to pull away, Don does to rid himself of his own clothes. He pulls Bobby onto his lap right after, relishing the slide of their cocks together. 

“I need you,” Bobby moans into his ear and Don nearly takes Bobby then and there. 

He wants it to be perfect though, needs Bobby to feel just as good as he does, and Don fumbles behind him. He’s lucky that just a few nights before he decided to have a self care night in the living room, leaving behind his bottle of lube in the side table drawer. Bobby gives him a little space as Don squeezes the lube onto his fingers, but then drags Don right back in as Don traces a finger along his rim. 

“Don’t need to go slow,” Bobby bears down on Don’s finger. “I can take it.”

Don peppers Bobby’s face with kisses, pushes his finger in as deep as it will go and Bobby throws his head back with a moan. Don thrusts his finger in a few more times before adding a second, watching as Bobby falls apart. 

He’s beautiful like this, a begging mess, trembling with Don’s every touch. Don hopes he’s the only person to see this ever again and he pushes three fingers in, biting back a grin as he hits Bobby’s prostate. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Bobby sobs, nails digging into Don’s shoulders. 

“Yeah?” Don whispers against Bobby’s neck. “What do you want, Bobby?”

“You,” Bobby chokes out. “Just you.”

Pulling his fingers out, Don lubes up his cock and carefully lines it up with Bobby’s hole. His eyes dart to Bobby’s face, his parted lips, eyes fluttering with the slightest puff of breath against his skin. Whatever Don has done to deserve this, he’ll do it again and again. 

Bobby swears as he lowers himself down on Don’s cock, holding him close and biting down on his shoulder. Don shudders, the pain so good he hopes the bite leaves a permanent mark. When he’s fully sheathed inside Bobby, Don helps guide Bobby back up before slamming into him. 

Bobby swears, sobs, as Don fucks him slow, hard, teasing his prostate with the drag of his cock. Each stuttered moan encourages Don to speed up, his orgasm growing closer with the cries that leave Bobby. By the time he’s babbling nothing but Don’s name, Don grabs Bobby’s cock, coaxes him to his climax. 

Bobby comes with a near scream, his hole clenching around Don’s cock. The ring of muscles, the sound of Bobby’s voice crashes into Don and he fills Bobby with his seed, thrusting a few more times until they’re both panting messes. 

Don hasn’t felt this good, ever, and he holds Bobby close. He doesn't want this to be only one night. Prays to whoever’s listening that Bobby will stay. Bobby shakes in his arms and Don pulls back, cups Bobby’s face in his hands. 

Tears stream down Bobby’s face as he tries to choke back sobs and he refuses to meet Don’s eyes. Pressing their foreheads together, Don wipes away at Bobby’s tears, patiently waits as Bobby cries. 

When Bobby hiccups, his crying beginning to subside, Bobby finally looks at Don and offers a watery smile. 

“Thank you, Don.”

The corner of Don’s mouth quirks, but he doesn’t let go of Bobby. Not just yet. He guides him into a hug, tangles a hand in his hair as Bobby buries his face in Don’s neck. 

The reality of the situation edges into Don’s mind and he holds tight to Bobby. He wants Bobby by his side, needs to know what makes him smile, why he hurts. It won’t be that simple though. Bobby still has to go home. There’s no guarantee he wants the same life as Don. 

“Can we…,” Bobby swallows. “Can I sleep with you in your bed?”

Pushing his thoughts to the side, Don smiles, kisses Bobby’s forehead. “Yeah, of course.”

Carefully, he adjusts so he can hold Bobby and he carries him upstairs to his bedroom. Bobby lets out a contented sigh when Don lays him down, his eyes filled with more than just simple affection. Don shivers before he leaves to get something to clean them off with, his nerves alight. 

When he comes back, Bobby is just starting to drift. Don takes his time to clean Bobby, slow and gentle as to not disturb him, letting his hands linger on his skin. At last, he’s able to settle in next to Bobby and Don pulls him into his arms. Bobby snuggles right into the embrace, placing a tired kiss on Don’s collar bone before letting sleep overtake him.

Don’s heart is full and broken all at once. He doesn’t want morning to come, but he’s left with little choice as the darkness blankets over him and his mind goes quiet.

~

“Can you hand me the socket wrench?” Don points blindly behind him. “Should already have the right piece in it.”

The weight in his hand is all the reassurance Don needs and he guides the tool in next to the engine. 

“You do this often?” Bobby asks. 

He’s perched on the table Don has set up next to the car, legs swinging as he watches Don work. 

Don shrugs, gives the wrench a few good turns. “Just my own truck really, but this is a pretty straightforward fix.”

Bobby hums and out of the corner of Don’s eye, he can see Bobby pick up a screwdriver to fiddle with.

“My old man liked to putz around with projects like this,” Bobby comments. “Until he couldn’t control his movements anymore.”

Don says nothing, but glances at Bobby to let him know he’s listening. 

“I shouldn’t have left him. But he changed. I didn’t like seeing him helpless. Angry.”

The screwdriver in Bobby’s hand gets caught in a tight grip.

“He wasn’t my dad anymore. He was a stranger. I couldn’t…I looked up to him and suddenly I was hating him. Hating that this had to happen to him. Of all people. He was a good man.”

Tears are falling down Bobby’s face now and Don sets his wrench to the side, wipes off his hands before taking the screwdriver out of Bobby’s hold.

“Why did I run?” Bobby looks up at Don, lower lip trembling. “I left when he needed me.”

Unsure of what to say, Don can only hug Bobby, keep him close as Bobby sobs into his chest. Bobby’s hands claw at his back for just a moment and Don can’t help but wonder what Bobby wants to tear out from inside himself. 

He doesn’t dare let go, presses his cheek to Bobby’s head, rubs his back to let him know he’s still there.

When Bobby lifts his head, he’s quick to wipe at his face with his sleeve and he shakes his head.

“I’ll…I’ll figure it out,” he sighs.

Don nods, wipes away a few stray tears with his thumb. 

“I blamed myself,” Don starts, slow and unsure. “When my parents died, I had gotten into a huge fight with them and then they were just gone.”

The pain seeps into Don’s body but he does his best to ignore it for Bobby. 

“Does it get easier?” Bobby asks, voice just above a whisper. 

“No,” Don admits. “But I’ve forgiven myself. Done what I can to make them proud.”

Bobby lets out a heavy breath, takes Don’s hand and kisses his fingers. 

“Thank you.”

Don can only nod, offer Bobby a small smile. He’s relieved when he gets one in return and places a kiss on Bobby’s lips before he can stop himself.

“Don’t you have a car to fix?” Bobby teases when their kiss ends. 

With a small laugh, Don gets back to work as Bobby comes back to himself. Don becomes so immersed he doesn’t notice Bobby’s absence until Bobby is approaching him with a sandwich and a glass of water. 

“I have bread?” Don frowns as he closes the hood of the car. 

“In your freezer.”

Don can only shrug as he eats, notices that Bobby has his own meal as well. This is nice, the sharing, the company. When they’re finished, Bobby goes to clean up the dishes but Don stops him. 

“You should get going.”

He never thought saying such simple words would hurt like this. It’s really goodbye now and Don’s heart clenches with the realization.

Bobby nods, but he’s slow to move. Neither want the bubble to burst, but they both have other lives. All that has happened has been a coincidence. A stroke of luck. Life isn’t this simple no matter how much Don hopes and prays.

“When I get things wrapped up, I’ll come back to visit you, okay?”

Don’s heart leaps in his chest. “You mean this isn’t goodbye?” he can’t stop himself from saying.

Bobby laughs and it’s absolutely beautiful. “Never. Not after one of the best nights I’ve had in my life.”

Over the moon, Don can’t decide what to do first, but luckily Bobby helps him by pulling him down into a kiss. Don smiles into the kiss, picks Bobby up and lifts him off the ground. He’s felt joy but nothing like this. Not so consuming that even the darkest corners of his mind settle into the light.

Bobby’s face is flushed by the time Don sets him back down and he gives Don a playful shove.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you?” Bobby tries to hide his grin. 

“Sure.”

Bobby laughs at this and gives Don a tight hug. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Don nods, words lost with the happiness coursing through every part of his body. It takes Bobby asking for his number for Don to finally speak and after another kiss, Bobby is in his car.

Watching Bobby leave doesn’t hurt as much as Don thought it would. He waves with a smile so wide, his face hurts and not once does he tear his eyes away from the car. When Bobby fades from view, Don exhales, his heart beating steadily in his chest.

The sky is beautiful, blue and clear, and Don thinks he might go to the grocery store later. After all, Bobby deserves a truly extravagant dinner the day he comes rolling back into town.

[sunsetsands]

Once more I have made a collection of half decent xenobiological pencil sketches. Unlike the other ones I’ve done, though, this time I’ve chosen a few designs and concepts to elaborate on and give more of a background, specifically the ones I thought weren’t horrible. This will be split into multiple posts due to the image limit on mobile, since my phone has all of the photos on it. Second part here.

These are the full pages of drawings. Zoomed in screenshots will be given for all of the curated creatures.

This is a towerleg, a rather tall species native to a very Earthlike planet. They typically reside in fields, meadows, and valleys, where they travel in herds to search for food, primarily large plants. On average, they are about 34 feet/10 meters tall. Those things radiating out from the central disc of its head are eyestalks, and the long appendage coming out from the front is an arm, which also has some simple eyes on it.

Towerlegs are intelligent, but not quite sapient, and have no organized society, but may one day develop one given the right circumstances. If they ever do, their immense size may hinder their ability to develop space travel, though it's far from impossible for them to come up with a solution.

This is a j'hguh, a name I definitely didn't create via keysmashing. All they ever really do is plod around in marshes. I can't imagine they would be particularly difficult to recreate in Spore.

Bobblyts are fairly small sophonts, at only around a foot and a half tall. Their centers of civilization are usually more vertically-oriented, which they navigate by climbing on walls and ceilings, something I'm not actually sure is possible at their size. Rather than communicating verbally, most of their languages are comprised of coordinated arm movements. The large spherical thing is a semitranslucent sac containing their brain, as well as a few other major organs. The sac is much sturdier than it looks.

The main issue I’ve been running into with this design is that I haven’t been able to get it to work in 3d space, specifically regarding how the orb is connected to the rest of the body. Once I figure that out, the rest will probably come naturally, but it's a pretty difficult wall to overcome in the meantime.

These are yubotes, an aquatic sophont species native to a cold ocean planet. They move around using jet propulsion organs near their backs, which aren't visible in any of these drawings. Without access to fire, most of their cities are powered by either geothermal electricity or marine currents. Technologically, they are far more advanced than humans, and are typically trained in engineering from a very young age, meaning most of them are prodigies when it comes to inventing new tools and technologies. I have no idea where their mouth is.

More details may be added in the future if my worldbuilder's disease flares up again.