#the details of it has varied a bit back and forth

[nhaneh]

Miqo'March 25, Hot Beach Episode

[cinnamonest]

//punishment/spanking kink

Thinking about really strict yans… you know when it comes to punishment, the dread of not knowing what will happen to you is one thing, but there's also something deliciously gut-churning about the thought of knowing exactly what will happen.

With someone whose punishments vary depending on how he feels, or are decided on the spot, the uncertainty can be both equally frightening while also comforting. You can tell yourself it won't be that bad, at least up to a certain point. You don't know, you don't have anything specific to fear.

But then you have those for whom you don't get that comfort. Rules and their corresponding punishments when violated are laid out for you very clearly from early on, you're told what will happen if you disobey each rule as he's giving you the rules themselves.

Some are arbitrary, some are highly specific, some are alarmingly vague. The punishments can be humiliating, painful, perverted… most are all of the above.

It's primarily corporeal — you get spanked regardless of the offense, that's the one consistent thing. He likes putting you over his knee. It's humiliating, it hurts, you squeal and squirm and the way your body tenses and the little sound you make with each swat to your ass is euphoric.

Even though it's the basis of most punishments, there's still details for different offenses. What you do determines how many you get, the instrument used… the only constant is that he never lets you keep any layers on. Even for the mildest offenses, your clothes are always hiked up or pulled down to your knees, each swat connecting to bare flesh, making your eyes water that much faster, you bite your lip to stifle the sounds.

Not doing something you were told to do generally is a lesser offense, just warranting his hand — doing something you weren't supposed to do, on the other hand, usually warrants a belt.

Talking to others when you've been specifically instructed to not do so is fifteen with a belt to your bare ass, little acts of spite such as jerking out of his grasp or putting on something other than what he set out for you to wear today — generally falling under the label of ’being a brat’ — is twenty with his hand. Failing to greet him at the door as you've been specifically instructed to do earns ten with the whipping cane he got just for you.

He has something worse — a wooden paddle, the kind with lots of holes in it, specifically designed to hurt. He keeps it visible in your room, up on the wall, a constant reminder. That, he says, is for when you try and run from him. Which is inevitable, you'll do it one day, he's certain. And when you do, you know exactly what you'll get. Isn't it nice, having such certainty? One day you'll get to know exactly what it feels like, coming down on your sensitive, soft flesh with full, enraged force. You'll be so cute, crying so much.

Even if you wanted to try and forget to make it less dreadful, you don't get much of a choice, as he expects you to memorize the specifics. That's part of the added humiliation factor — he doesn't just act immediately, instead making you tell him exactly what you did and recite what has to happen to you as a result… of course, only after you're already bent over, stumbling over your words as you tense at the feeling of his hand or the leather or wood gently brushing back and forth over the soft, sensitive flesh.

And if you can't remember, you get a few more added on with each incorrect guess until you get it right. He doesn't always make you count, though — generally, if it's over fifteen or so, he knows you'll be a blubbering sniffling mess long before it's even over, and he has some compassion for you, even if no amount of squealing and crying is going to make it stop any sooner. So after a few, it's okay that you lose count… unless he's in an especially poor, particularly sadistic mood, and makes you start over for it. That, at least, can be a bit unpredictable.

And while it accompanies every punishment, it's not always the only aspect of the punishment — different offenses get a secondary part tacked on.

If you backtalk him, you also take his cock down your throat to learn to use your mouth properly. You lie to him, you take his cock in your ass — double down on the lie and you only get your own spit for lube, multiple lies or particularly severe ones means multiple days with a nice thick piece of tape covering up your poor neglected pussy while he stuffs your ass with cum day in and day out until you're too sore to even walk. You ignore him — the one thing that seems to upset him more than anything — and you get a solid week of only using your throat and ass until you learn to show some respect.

You try and hide your body from him — when he's explicitly told you it's his property now — and you'll be naked at all times for the next week, and tied up with your arms and legs spread far apart to ensure you feel the vulnerability of exposure. You push him away when he's trying to be intimate with you, like the little brat you are? You'll orgasm until you cry, kicking and squirming and pulling against the restraints keeping your arms and legs apart, pushing the boundaries of your comprehension how something so good can become so overwhelming and sensitive as to be painful, the sensitive nubs on your chest and your clit so abused that the slightest touch makes your whole body jolt as you whimper.

You get each and every one of these punishments as promises. You know from the very beginning exactly what happens when you make these transgressions — and yet, the dumb little thing you are, you still do it, and you still try to run and fight it as if it's not unavoidable, as if you stand any chance of getting out of it, as if you don't know him well enough to know you won't get a single sliver of mercy… and as if you don't know that trying to run and fight only adds another punishment, as you've been told many times. Really, you're like a little pet, so foolish and predictable and adorable.

Even so, it's not as if you'll never know the sort of dread that uncertainty can bring… in the most extreme form possible. One day you'll inevitably do something even out of the bounds of what he planned for, something he never even anticipated you doing, such a severe transgression that for once, he doesn't know what to do, he has to come up with something that can even possibly be adequate for your misstep.

Yes, when you see his head slowly turn towards your shivering and huddled little form, eye twitching with an unprecedented disgust at your sheer audacity, you'll get to finally know that chill in your blood of being unsure of what he's going to do to you.

[bunny-yan]

yandere hacker and yandere ai pt 2? i loved it 🫶🏼

This post will be apart of our sharing is caring series. Thanks for 200!

yandere!hacker & yandere!ai x gn!reader x yandere!stalker

TW: language, implied masturbation, stalking, implied vouyerism, language, no minors allowed —

Sitting in front of a ridiculous amount of monitors, he worked diligently. Fingers flew across his keyboard, eyes flicking back and forth to make sure things remained consistent and there weren’t any errors in his task. 

As per usual, he was behind on handling one of the requests from a client, but he would catch up and get it handled on time. He always did. He supposed he could’ve done his work while spending the night watching you go through the mundane list of tasks you repeated every night, but he was afraid that his distracted eyes would make a mistake and he would be searching for hours trying to figure out what he did wrong. If he told the truth, he just didn’t want to take his eyes away from you. The time he spent watching you shower after a long day of work, brushing your teeth, and getting ready for bed was sacred. He didn’t want to miss a single thing, especially if you strayed from your normal routine. Sometimes you’d spend hours scrolling through whatever social media you decided to keep at the time, but there were some days where your action of choice proved to be more… interesting. 

Of course, he could only live with the knowledge that it was happening since Eve saw fit to shutdown your cameras whenever you were in a precarious state. He was still thinking of ways to bribe the AI to let him have a bit of fun, but his current offers proved insufficient as her walls only got harder to break through. 

A flashing in the middle of one of his monitor’s caught his attention and despite his sleep-deprived state of mind that usually ignored any and all distractions, he paused as he looked at the red text alerting him that there was movement in your apartment. 

“They’re supposed to be at work. Why did they come back so early?”

They are at work. They’re currently having lunch Sophie Anders. 32. Blood type: A. Has been working since-

“Okay, okay, skip the details. If they’re at work, what’s tripping the sensors?”

An intruder.

“What?” he asked, feeling a spark of irritation as he cleared his screen to pull up the cameras he placed for “protection” in your apartment. 

Clicking through cameras that showed your bedroom, bathroom, living area, he stopped when he saw a bulky figure in the kitchen. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered underneath his breath, attempting to get a closer look at the creep who broke into your apartment, but they were wearing a mask and hat that shielded most of their face. 

From what he could see they were pretty built. The long sleeve shirt the stranger wore, stretched nicely to show off his body. 

Gritting his teeth, he put the camera view of the kitchen on full screen to see what this guy was doing and to his disbelief, he was using your kitchen to make food, humming “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You” as he did. 

Was he just some stranger off the street who wanted a quick snack? 

He shook his head as he watched the guy moving expertly through your kitchen, not hesitating in his reach through different cabinets to get the materials he needed. 

It was suspicious. 

A strange guy looking for a snack shouldn’t have been so intimate with your kitchen. Unless he’d done this before. 

It only further proved his suspicion when he began to organize the items in your kitchen. Pots of varying sizes were stacked neatly, seasoning was arranged by type and size, he even rearranged the placement of your cups and plates for better access. 

It was crazy. 

When he finished making the food, he placed it on a plate before putting clear wrap over it and placing it in the microwave. 

The food wasn’t for him. The food was for you when you got off work.

He didn’t even have enough time to come to terms with that fact as he instantly left the kitchen. Scrambling to follow this guy around your apartment, he watched as the stranger went in and out of your bedroom, gathering clothes that were haphazardly lying around before placing them in the washing machine in your laundry room. 

I have no record of them hiring a maid.

It’s because this guy wasn’t a maid, though it wasn’t odd that Eve assumed that. 

He washed the dishes he used to make your dinner, swept, mopped, vacuumed, climbed into your bed before burying his face in your pillows. 

No, he wasn’t a maid. You had a fucking stalker. 

His horror at the realization only grew when the guy unzipped his pants, still lying comfortably in your bed as he-

A pop-up block appeared on the screen as a nervous emoticon. 

“That fucking-”

Should I alert the authorities?

His fists were white as he grabbed his desk, trying to stop himself from throwing the monitor across the room. He wouldn’t lose control. His anger would only grow at having to replace the monitor. 

“No.” he said through gritted teeth. 

There was no guarantee that they’d catch the guy. He also didn’t want to tip them off that something was amiss and have them accidentally stumble upon one of cameras, although he doubted that would happen it was better he was safe than sorry. 

I could send them a concerning email and have them come home early to catch him in the act.

“And have them in the same place? Absolutely not.”

This guy was smart. Considering he came while you weren’t around, it was safe to assume that he knew your work schedule. He didn’t have to worry about getting caught since you lived alone and from how laid back he was about exploring your apartment, it was clear that he’d done this before. If you were to go home he’d either hide until he found a way out without being discovered or take that as a chance to take advantage of you. He didn’t like either of those options. 

“Can you figure out his identity?”

He would have to remove his hat and mask in order for my facial recognition software to work properly. As it stands, I am unable to ascertain his identity.

Eve had only infiltrated your electronics. It wouldn’t be difficult to gain access to the cameras that surrounded your apartment, but he would have to set that up manually or risk exposure.  

His eyes made their way back to the monitor when the block disappeared. Clearly spent, he removed your sheets to throw them in the washing machine after moving your clothes to the dryer. 

He had never been so pissed off and clearly at a loss for what to do. The situation only worsened when the stranger went into a bag to retrieve what he recognized as mini cameras. 

He felt fear stab his gut when he walked towards the corner of your room, going exactly where his own camera was placed before pausing as he peered into the lens. He watched as the stranger’s eyes narrowed, cocking his head to the side before laughing. 

Bringing his face close to the camera, he wondered what the guy was doing before freezing when he pulled down his mask and mouthed the words, Fuck. Off.

He didn’t hesitate to remove the camera before crushing it, screen going static. 

Oh, dear.

He knew Eve couldn’t really comprehend emotion, but there must’ve been something in his expression that let the AI know that he was truly pissed off. His anger only grew as the stalker swept ever corner of your apartment, destroying all of his cameras one by one before replacing them with his own. 

He was forced to access your computer camera and he temporarily gained access to it in order to threaten this asshole. 

Are you sure that this is a good idea?

“This asshole doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.” he growled underneath his breath. 

It didn’t take long. He watched the figure bring the dried clothes into your room to begin folding them before he paused to read the blaring message on your computer screen. 

GET OUT, blinked repeatedly and obnoxiously. 

The figure tucked the paid of underwear he was going to fold into his back pocket before getting up and going to your desk. With his hands on the side of the screen, he was afraid that the anonymous figure was going to shut your laptop without acknowledging him, but he pushed the screen back instead. 

“Can you hear me?” he asked. 

Yes. 

He was going to get upset that Eve responded without his prompting, but he was too distracted by what this guy wanted. 

“Good. I was worried I’d have to make contact earlier than I planned in order to chase you away.”

Who are you?

“I’m their boyfriend.” he said, sitting back in the chair. 

This is a lie. They are not currently in a relationship. Any contact from potential suitors has been blocked. 

“Well, they just don’t know it yet.”

You are a stalker.

“That seems a little harsh.” he said, narrowing his eyes as he looked into the camera. “I’m just keeping them safe from creeps like you.” 

“You’re the creep. Walking around in their apartment as if you own the place. Doing what you did in their bed. You’re disgusting.”

Even transcribed what he said, but after reading it, there was a visible grin from behind his mask as his eyes crinkled. 

“Jealous?”

His fist smashed through the monitor before he knew what he was doing. The pain in his hand was nothing compared to the fury he felt. He had never wished to be able to strangle someone through the monitor as much as he did right now. 

He’d be pissed that he ruined his monitor later, but the fact that the broken screen showed multiple strangers only made his anger worse. 

“I’ll do you a favor and not let them know that there’s someone creeping around them so return it by fucking off. You come anywhere near them, you’re dead.”

He ended the conversation by closing the laptop and the monitor went dark. He sat in silence for a while, fist throbbing as he thought over the interaction with that stalker. 

He had been provoked. They knew of each others’ existence and now it was a race to see who snagged you first. He had intentions to approach you and although he was content with simply watching, he’d rather die than see you end up with that asshole. Of course, he had ever intention to ruin whatever relationship you eventually got in, but this was different. This was personal. 

You should get your hand looked at. I can put in a new order for a monitor if you would like me to.

“I would like it if you shut up.”

Just trying to be helpful. I understand that with competition comes an intense desire to win and due to your reclusive nature, there is little chance of that happening. 

“Not helping.” he growled. 

My apologies. I will review the helpful part of my program and make changes regarding the section dealing with honesty. 

This fucking AI.

[dutifullylazybread]

Headcannon jealous Rolan

Rolan and Tav have an established relationship

However, Rolan is jealous of Gale. I need to know how this man handles jealousy and Gale around Tav. NSFW or SFW.

So I ended up writing a bit of a scenario while also giving an idea of how Rolan acts while he is jealous. Some mentions of sex below, but nothing overtly NSFW. I'd argue this is more of a hurt/comfort headcanon list.

As a note, I focused on why Rolan might be jealous of the relationship between Tav/Gale to keep this as concise as I could. I think it is possible that Rolan might be jealous of Gale's magical education, but that might be a headcanon list for another time!

Some Reasons Why Rolan is Jealous of Gale and How He Acts:

Rolan knows that you and Gale are close—the two of you traveled together for months after all. You have pulled each other from the jaws of death on countless occasions. You convinced him not to detonate the orb that once sat in his chest.

Gale has a deeper understanding of what you went through at that time than Rolan thinks he ever will. After all, Rolan never had a tadpole lodged in his skull, nor has he ever shared a mental link with you. And while his path to Baldur’s Gate took him one way, your path took you the other—even with the points in which both routes merged.

And the bastard is just charming. He makes it look so easy to be that damn charming.

And when Rolan feels at ease, he is charming. But he feels like he has to put on a performance. He has to be this brilliant wizard at all times.

Rolan may feel like he knows you well—you and him are in an established relationship. The two of you have professed your love for each other. You sleep in the same bed, you have shared goals for the future, and he could see himself spending the rest of his life with you.

But does he know you as well as Gale does?

That eats at him.

And he does feel like he is at a disadvantage when Gale comes to visit, and the two of you reminisce about something that Rolan wasn’t present for. 

He watches how you light up and laugh, and he wonders if you ever light up like that around him. He tells himself that it might be different, that he might not notice those little details, because he sees you every single day.

You and Gale may discuss a book that Rolan has never read, or you might ramble on about your research and ask for the other’s opinion.

After traveling together and patching each other’s wounds, you and Gale might casually touch (arm squeezes or hugs, for example) with ease. And it might make Rolan uneasy.

Rolan’s response to the situation will vary.

If he feels left out, he might excuse himself and make himself scarce. You can tell something is wrong based on how his tail is snapping back and forth. He is seething and trying to hide it.

He is also being awfully short with you. He might make a few passive aggressive (or as passive aggressive as he can manage) comments.

“Don’t mind me. I wouldn’t want to take you away from such engaging company.” He says this with a distinct bite, of course.

If he isn't too deep into his jealousy, he will definitely take comfort in the two of you having sex. You make him feel loved and valued, and you take the time to remind him of that.

And while he is feeling this way, slow and tender sex is the way to go. The sex where it feels like the two of you have nothing but time and you plan on using all of that time with him is soothing.

If he has gotten to the point where he is being short and standoffish, however, sex isn't happening. He is closing himself off from everyone in nearly every conceivable way.

If Gale tries to talk to him, Rolan is cordial but chilly. 

He won’t outright ask for Gale to leave, but he doesn’t go out of his way to make him feel welcome either.

He is, after all, trying to appear every inch the archwizard who could rival Gale. And in several ways, he already is. He just doesn’t see it.

While Rolan doesn’t necessarily try to one-up Gale, he will have those small, ugly moments of feeling rather pleased with himself when he is more knowledgeable about something than Gale might be.

Rolan might make small jabs at Gale about knowing something that he perceives as easy but which Gale mentions having difficulty with (it just feels satisfying to know he can do something better than Gale).

When Gale is about, Rolan might make a conscious point to curl his tail around your ankle or to lay a hand on the small of your back—physical contact that he might not normally indulge in when company is around.

I don’t see him making a point of kissing you in front of Gale or doing something like pulling you onto his lap—the small moments of contact, though Gale might not be picking up on it, speak volumes already.

Should Rolan not be forthcoming with Gale about how he feels, Gale will likely say something to you along the lines of, “Have I done something to upset Rolan?”

Naturally, you don’t want to see your beloved and one of your dear friends at odds.

So, privately, you ask Rolan what the matter is.

This is another situation where he might claim nothing at all is wrong, or he might make a snide remark about Gale. He might loop you into that comment.

“I wouldn’t want to interrupt the two of you. You were getting rather chummy after all.”

The direction this discussion goes will largely depend on how insecure Rolan feels and how defensive he gets. 

It might be as easy as reminding him that you chose him. You have built a life with him. And you wouldn’t change what you have for anything.

If Rolan is too defensive to be receptive, he might put some space between you and him so that he can feel what he needs to feel and then gather his thoughts. He likely won’t be graceful about it (he will probably lock himself up in his office and stew for a bit).

However, when he does have the time to really consider everything, he does see that he has been unfair and downright unkind.

And while he doesn’t enjoy the idea of the conversation to come, he does want to make amends with you. And he wants to explain himself.

This isn’t to say that he won’t get defensive during this discussion either, but with his newfound clarity, he is going to try his damnedest to hear what you have to say and recognize how his actions have made you feel.

Gale and you are just friends. Even if the two of you were romantic in the past, things ended amicably, and neither of you have any interest in picking up where things left off.

Besides, you might ask Rolan, have you ever done anything to make him think that your affections were wandering?

Rolan will assure you that you haven’t. And then it may come out that he is jealous of the closeness that you and Gale have, and sometimes it does sting to know that he hasn’t shared in those adventures.

So you offer to tell him everything that he wants to know. What is he curious about? 

Does he want to know where you all traveled? Does he want to know about the moments where all of you laughed yourselves dizzy around the fire? About the disagreements that you had but then talked out and patched up? How about the most horrific meals you had to scrounge together? 

And this helps him a bit. He might not get to have those experiences with you, but it means the world to him that you are happy to share those times with him—that you feel comfortable enough to do so. 

Even if you don’t want to share everything—if a companion died on the road, if something went horribly wrong—even offering to tell him about some of your adventures means a great deal to him.

Rolan apologizes to you and promises to make amends with Gale.

And when you, him, and Gale are visiting once again, you encourage Rolan to ask questions—Gale is always more than happy to regale anyone with stories of your adventures, after all. 

And, though he does have to swallow his pride a little, Rolan does apologize to Gale.

He asks Gale to visit again—and Gale accepts (Waterdeep is lovely, but Baldur’s Gate is still the third best city on the Sword Coast, after all).

And later, you remind Rolan just how much he means to you, and how incredible you think he is.

I’m saying you body worship and overstim him, and then you hold him while he falls asleep in your arms, feeling loved and cherished and secure.

A week later, when you and Rolan are spending a lazy morning in bed together, you laugh at something he says. And he realizes that, around him, when you light up, you are practically incandescent

And he holds you close.

[m-y-fandoms]

Commission: DRV3 Boys x Female Reader - Seven Minutes in Heaven

Details: Takes place during the killing game, timeline switched around, creative license taken to imply everyone is alive and has known each other for at least a few weeks and has had time to get to know each other a bit. The threat of the killing game is still there though. Monokuma has announced it, just nobody has been killed yet. It’s also implied that the reader has a crush on the boy in each section however whether or not the boy is oblivious to that fact or feels the same varies.

Word Count: 5K Words

Warnings: SFW - fluff, maybe mild angst, possible V3 spoilers

Everyone needed something to divert their attention and obsessive thoughts away from the killing game. Though nothing had happened yet, the group of Ultimates got more and more antsy by the day. Every dark corner or empty stairwell seemed like a threat, and mistrust grew and loomed over them all like a black mold growing on the walls.

No one seemed to feel safe, though it had been weeks since the menacing-looking monochrome bear informed them that they were to kill each other for sport so they could return home to their regular school life and families. There was no concrete proof that this wasn't an extensive, well-planned practical joke or social experiment, some prank that would result in cameramen and producers springing out of the woodwork once all was said and done, and that was the only thing holding them together mentally. This could all be fake.

Nevertheless, something needed to change. They all had their little subgroups, individual trusted cliques or closest allies, but there was no denying the entire group needed to come together, to get to know each other a bit better and let off some steam. Unity meant potential lasting peace and no fatalities.

Someone suggested they play a frivolous little game that could keep everyone's attention for a while. Even though most of the group hadn't played it since middle school and some never at all, the rules were straightforward and simple enough. In addition to passing the time, it might even spark a little drama or romance. Any emotion was preferable to the fear of death and the sense of impending disaster.

Seven Minutes in Heaven: a game where two people go into a small room or cramped closet alone and have seven minutes to do anything they want to each other. Usually, the goal was the get handsy, to kiss or hug, to confess to someone, to make each other nervous, or to engage in casual romantic activities. It was supposed to be steamy and awkward, to put pressure on the two people. They would all randomly pick straws, and the two people who got the shortest straws would have to go in together while everyone else sat outside and timed their seven minutes. Knowing your peers were mere feet away outside the door only added to the tension.

The location was set: a small, cramped closet on the first floor next to the spare classroom and just before the steps down to the basement. It was dimly lit by an ancient overhead lightbulb hanging on by a thread and had just enough room for two people once the abandoned supplies, tools, and cobwebs were scooted to the edges. The Hotel Kumasutra was suggested first, but was shot down for being perhaps a little too intense, dramatic, and high-pressure for such a simple game. Nobody felt comfortable enough to enter the daunting building as of yet, despite its proximity to the popular casino.

And so, the game began.

Rantarou Amami

Waiting anxiously to see who you'll be paired up with, you pace the meager few steps you can manage in the tiny closet - back and forth, back and forth - working up a sweat that's more nerves than physical exertion. When the door swings casually open and you immediately see a fluffy full head of green hair, a shiver runs down your spine. It's a shiver that is half excitement and half humiliation. Of all fifteen other classmates, of course your crush, Rantarou Amami, was the one destined to draw the other straw and be trapped in here with you for seven excruciating minutes. Anyone else, literally anyone else, and you could've stalled, talked your way through those seven minutes, felt indifferent, and at most a little awkward. Rantarou made your heart flutter, froze you in place nearly every time he interacted with you. You stuttered, felt like you never said the right thing. He was just so handsome, with a smooth voice and a mysterious yet kind personality. You were quite sure, even with the memory loss you'd all suffered, that you hadn't had a crush this intense in quite a while. Certainly not one that turned you into a foolish mess.

Rantarou entered with his head bowed, shoulders shrugged forward. You'd never seen him - a dude who was usually quite confident and smooth - looking so uncomfortable. When he spun to look at you, the door now shutting you two in alone, he was almost wincing, facial expression squeezed into wrinkles and furrowed brows. It was as if his face was trying to say: "I'm sorry about this..."

"Heeeeey, (Y/N)," Rantarou spoke in a sing-songy voice that, again, was out of character for him, yet you felt your body stiffen up all the same. You hugged your body instinctively, feeling vulnerable as your heart beat wildly in your chest. You took a step back to create more space between you and the object of your infatuation and nearly tripped over a cardboard box on the ground behind you. "Yeah, this is about what I expected," he chuckled, his eyes wrinkling closed into kind little lines. He held his hands out in a sign of passive surrender. "So sorry about this, (Y/N). I swear, there was nothing I could do! It was all random." He rubbed the back of his neck, a small dust of pink over his cheeks. You felt your stomach drop. Did he think you disliked him? Was he perceiving your involuntary reaction as disgust rather than flustered? You suddenly felt super guilty. You were just now realizing he probably had taken note of this same adverse reaction every single time you were in the room with him. The logical thought process would probably be that your body language showed disdain.

"Oh, oh no, I hope you don't think I'm upset about being paired with you! I didn't realize my-" you tried to relax your shoulders, not wanting to let your own feelings affect him negatively.

"No, I don't think that at all, actually..." he cut you off, not wanting to let you get too far into this incorrect notion. He paused, thinking over how to word things delicately. "It's quite the opposite. I'm not as dense as you might think, actually. I pick up on things pretty well," he chuckled again, trying to ease the tense atmosphere, "and I... I kinda know you like me. You always get like this... when I talk to you. I'm... a bit more perceptive and empathetic than people think. I just wanted you to know, it's okay! You don't have to feel that way! I was worried about your reaction when I stepped in here. I knew you'd freak out." So subtly - almost seeming practiced and experienced - he gently clasped his rough hands into yours. They felt calloused, perhaps from the travels and adventures he'd vaguely mentioned when you sat there like a statue listening to him talk around the academy. The many bracelets settling on his wrists shook you back to reality, and your face heated up at the skin-to-skin contact. "I mean, I'm not trying to boast because I really don't think I'm such a catch, but I see the way you look at me, I've heard Miu talking about you having a crush as well..."

"I... I don't know what to say," you release a breath you didn't know you'd been holding, "This is a bit embarrassing..." you grumble, looking at the ground.

"You don't need to feel embarrassed. Honestly, I think you're a really cool person as well. I would love to get to know you more, but you always seem to run away after we talk for a little. The others are always around. It would be cool to spend some time hanging out alone, now that... I'm kinda confessing that I'm interested in you too?" He gives you a crooked smile. "Woah... your hands are like shaking."

Was this a dream? Was Monokuma replacing your classmates with clones to prank and humiliate you? There's no way Rantarou, the most attractive and fascinating guy here, was into you...

"I... I would really like that. Yeah, I'm sorry about my... less than pleasant reaction. I really didn't mean to come off as weird or make you uncomfortable."

"Hey, no worries. Well, you know, I played this game a ton in middle school. It was always silly, and stupid, but I have no issue playing it again, especially with you. What do you say? After all, I've played games way worse than this."

Ryoma Hoshi

The athlete strolled leisurely into the closet, hands in his pockets and the stick of a lollipop hanging carelessly out of his mouth. He always had something hanging out his lip, be it a candy cigarette, a toothpick, or something in between. You wondered if it soothed him. You'd gathered from conversations with him that his life had been pretty traumatic, at least in your opinion. His eyes were half-lidded as always, lazy and donning dark bags underneath. He sighed, stepping into the dim lighting provided by the single, dingy bulb above.

"Yeah, so I didn't really have anything better to do. Everyone else was sayin' they'd play and I was in the room at the time so I got roped in. Can't be much worse than anything else I've been through. Figured it might be good for morale, for these people to loosen up and play a game or two together. Lotta mistrust brewing." He looked around, seemingly disinterested and boasting an incredibly calm demeanor. You were wondering how someone could feel not even a little bit nervous playing a game with a premise like this.

"You don't have to stay if you don't want to!" You smiled softly, offering him an out. You liked Ryoma a lot. His chill attitude, mysterious and interesting past, deep voice, and cute face intrigued you enough to even form a little crush, but you didn't want him here out of coercion or peer pressure.

“It’s whatever. I’m down to play. It’s fine. However, I’m sure I wasn’t who you expected or were hoping for.” He shrugs, less self-deprecating and more as if stating a plain fact. It didn’t seem to bother him either way if you did in fact wish it was someone else who was chosen to be with you for this dumb little game.

“Nah, I’m not disappointed,” you smirk a bit deviously, trying to hide the excitement you truly felt. You see his eyebrows raise a tad, which is more expression than you usually get from him. “Someone like you is kind of an interesting partner for this game. I’m betting you have more life experience overall than me. In fact, I know you do, after listening to some of your stories. You probably have more experience in everything: street smarts, common sense, even romance.”

“Uh, let me stop you right there.” He lets out a tiny, brief, dry chuckle, something skeptical in his tone. “Actually, not true at all, that last part. Not much romance in my life. Funny, you and I actually talk more often than I do with the others… I thought you would’ve picked up on that.”

“Oh?” You challenge him playfully, trying to flirt him into a more open mood.

"Yeah, I'd think that would be obvious. Who wants to take a chance on a no-good criminal with a clouded, ominous past? I don't really tell people all the details, and I'm not going to, but then I can't be surprised if people don't want to get to know me or trust me. Also, I'm aware I'm not the ideal, looks-wise. Never bothered me, but-" Once again, you can tell he's not looking for sympathy, but just honestly sharing his thoughts about himself. Before he can talk himself down further, however, you cut him off.

Stopping his words in their tracks, you leaned down to his height, bending at the waist sensually. Without skipping a beat, you casually took the lollipop from his mouth, coaxing it out without much resistance on his part. Smiling impishly, you popped it into your own mouth.

You'd never seen Ryoma Hoshi blush before this moment. It seemed like something he was incapable of.

Korekiyo Shinguuji

The lean, dangerously mysterious anthropologist stood across from you, tall enough and so close that he blotted out the dim light from the single bulb above in the cramped closet. He appeared like a silhouette, like some spooky demon or spirit from the cultural legends he often told you about. He seemed to be giggling behind his mask, amused at your flustered reaction to his closeness before he began to speak in that mystifying voice of his that was like smoke hissing past your ear and tickling the outer shell:

"You know, (Y/N), I almost said no to playing... This seems like such a childish little game, maybe even a waste of my precious time when I could be studying up on literally any other topic. But... then I thought: I've done far more promiscuous things than this before, games and rituals alike, so what's the harm in some little kid’s game? Why not? After all, there's something to be learned from every experience, and this game seemed integral to the middle school lives of our classmates, therefore making it culturally significant... if I... broaden my definitions a little." He rolled his eyes up to the ceiling, making you sweat as he moved even closer during his little monologue.

"I see you're being v-very open-minded," you chuckled nervously, trying to hide the loud pumping of your heart. "Yes, I would've thought you were far too mature for this game!" You were now flat against the wall, nearly caged in by his lithe form hovering over you.

"I thought it might even be exciting," his tone adopted a more predatory note, "to see who I get and explore the essence of who they are, find their inner beauty for myself, one-on-one and in private. When nobody else can hear or see, they might let down some walls, and expose a side of themselves in this killing game that nobody has seen yet. It could be a fascinating study of human behavior. I didn't really care who I got matched with, as everyone here - with such varied personalities and talents - could be an extremely interesting subject!"

"Subject?" Now he was starting to worry you. You had to admit, though, the way he was passionately speaking, the way he pinned you into the corner of this enclosed space... it was rather exciting.

"You seem nervous..." he tilts his head innocently. "There's nothing to be afraid of, little (Y/N). This game, as I take it from the rules, is to start a romantic or flirty interaction, to cause feelings to bubble up in each other - excitement, arousal. These emotions are so wonderfully and beautifully human. Is that what you want, to try this in earnest?" You see one of his hands reach over to its opposite and begin to unravel the layers of gauze bandaging. You nod enthusiastically, almost entranced by his words. He takes this consent as his opportunity to take control, and something in his golden eyes turns animalistic. 

"Good." He purrs.

Gonta Gokuhara

Almost comically shoved into this tiny closet and leaving little to no room for you was your chosen-at-random partner: Gonta Gokuhara, the gentle giant. He was desperately trying not to hit his head on the ceiling while also trying to remember to be considerate of you and your personal space. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, after all.

"Gonta wanted to play, because all of his friends were playing too! This game... sounds fun, but Gonta never played it before. Gonta a bit confused. Gonta love everyone here as a good friend, swear to protect them all, so why we not all play game together, in bigger, more comfortable place?" He asked genuine, thoughtful questions, and it appeared to you that he in fact did not know what he was getting himself into. You'd make sure he understood clearly before playing, as someone had obviously shoved him in here without a clear description of the rules or goals.

"Well, Gonta, this is a game where you're supposed to come in with one other person only and do flirty, cute, romantic stuff. Why did you agree to play without knowing what's going on?" You shook your head, snickering under your breath. You'd always found Gonta's endless positivity and determination to make others feel happy and protected adorable. He probably just wanted to be included, to make sure everyone had fun. And you had no doubt he was intelligent enough to understand the simple rules of this game, it was just very likely someone more mischievous - like Kokichi or Miu - purposely kept him out of the loop.

"Oh! O-okay!" He begins to blush, his mouth pressing into an uncomfortable, pursed line. "Gonta never done anything like that!" He was beginning to perspire on his brow.

"Well, do you want to try? You don't have to, keep that in mind! It's your choice, Gonta." You smiled in encouragement, making sure your body language wasn't applying any pressure to him even subconsciously.

"Ummm... Gonta would like to try if everyone else playing. Also!... Gonta trust (Y/N)." His words are shaking, and you decide you'll do the bare minimum, just a warm-up to see if he truly means his words. Him putting his trust in you was melting your heart.

Gently, as if you were approaching a bird that might fly away at any moment, you took a step closer to him and began to unbutton the tight brown suit jacket from his abs and waist.

Kokichi Ouma

Immediately upon being trapped in the closet with this gremlin, he started teasing you, trying to make you crack, or cry, whichever came first. All reactions were good reactions to him.

"Of all people, you got stuck in here with me. Sucks for you, don't it, (Y/N), you prude!" He swirls a finger in the air and presses it firmly into your chest, taunting you.

He spends the next few agonizingly drawn-out moments poking fun at you, at your flustered reactions, at the way your body responds to both his words and small touches.

"Oh, come on, (Y/N), this is baby shit! I barely even touched you! With my title as Supreme Leader, I've had to seduce hundreds of marks into giving up information or giving me what I want, and you can't even handle this? You wouldn't last two minutes in an interrogation by my organization, let alone seven. Pathetic!" He starts laughing, amused by your humiliation so much that his eyes begin to water.

You're sure his claims of seducing and interrogating victims before are lies, but regardless, your heart was beating out of your chest. Why did he have this effect on you? He had you right where he wanted you, and you were falling into his trap. Every time he ran his chilled fingers up your exposed arm or touched your chest and collarbones, you felt a shiver of desire and fright, a shockwave of panic and delight in tandem.

In truth, the others were worried about you. Most of them, the kinder portion of the group, felt bad about sending you in there alone with Kokichi. They didn't think such a kind, unassuming person deserved this kind of treatment.

With an underlying gentleness that almost betrayed his performative vitriol for you, he pushed your shoulders back, like a bully on a playground. He took note of your clumsiness, of the lack of coordination you must have if such a petite young man like him could nearly topple you over. He seemed to be taking into account his lack of time. Seven minutes wasn't much to work with. He'd had his fun, and was ready for the climax.

You stumble back against the wall, and instantly he pounced on you, cornering you in. Before you had time to adjust, to correct yourself to an upright position, he grabbed both sides of your face, pulling you in for a sloppy, deep kiss that lacked any care or gentleness. Your eyelids flew open as the taste of sweet candies and grape sodas flooded your mouth.

Kaito Momota

Kaito stood with his arms crossed defiantly in the middle of the closet. His taller frame and masculine figure took up most of the space as he stood firm, stubbornly biting the inside of his cheek. His brow was furrowed angrily, but not with an anger directed at you. After all, you must've been a victim in this just as much as he.

"Now, I didn't really wanna do this... it's beneath someone who sees fit to call themselves the Luminary of the Stars. I didn't earn this title through kiddy games after all, but..." he looked frustrated, maybe even with himself, "but they tried to say I'm too scared to play! As if!" He paced once in a circle in the tight confines, then huffed. "I'm realizing just now that I probably fell for it and this was their plan all along." He sighed deeply. "I gotta stop letting these assholes get to me." He conceded, his pride hurt. You had to admit, his reaction to the game was disappointing you, as you couldn't think of a better person to get stuck in here with. You smiled sheepishly, letting the uncomfortable silence mellow out in the air. You only had seven minutes, after all. "Man, it's cold and awkward in here..." Ah, yes. Kaito wasn't the type to let things just be silent. You decided it was your turn to speak now.

"So... you don't want to play with me, at all?" You speak shyly, a bit embarrassed at your own words.

"What, you do?" He counters, a single brow raised as you piqued his curiosity,

"Well... I mean, haha," you thought through how to word this so as to not weird him out or scare him off, or really just embarrass yourself in the process, "I felt really lucky to get stuck in here with you, out of everyone. If I may speak openly and honestly, I've been crushing on you for a while..." You felt your blood running hot.

"You have?" He's flushed pink, pulling his jacket in closer for security.

"Yeah, of course! You're handsome, charismatic, and you make me laugh when we are just hanging out casually. I think your determined spirit is admirable... but if you don't feel the same-"

"No!" He cut you off a little too eagerly before he could remind himself he was supposed to be playing it cool. He cleared his throat, calming down his tone a bit, "No, I mean I think you're great, too. And you're beautiful! Out of all these idiots, I'm glad it's you, too." Your heart swells. "Not that... not that I've been dwelling on this thought for too long." Though it feels like your heart is pumping fast enough to warm the entire room, Kaito was right, it was quite drafty in there. Seeing you shiver at the temperature, Kaito removes his large galaxy jacket and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells of him, of hair products and fresh deodorant. Simple and subtle. "We should hang out some more on our own, when we want to, not when these assholes force us into some stupid game with expectations and shit." He shows you a beaming, celebrity-like grin. "I would be an idiot to not want to get to know you more, especially with your talent!"

Shuichi Saihara

Poor Shuichi. The reserved, introverted detective had found himself shoved into this closet against his will. He'd merely come to observe the game from the farthest corner of the room - bored, and too wary of the threat of the killing game to be alone. Being alone was just the worst option right now: either his own thoughts would consume him or a potential killer might.

So now here he was, paying the consequences of wanting to hang out with a group of his peers. They'd put his name into the lottery without his permission, thinking it a cute and funny little prank, and when he was chosen, it only took two or three of them to shove him inside while he attempted to jump and claw his way out. Now he was a sweating, blushing mess, pawing at the door like a cat trapped in a bedroom. The same students that pushed him in snickered and howled in laughter on the other side, leaning their weight into the door so he couldn't escape. After a while, someone as smart as him knows when an effort becomes futile. He sighs, turning to face you with a warm flush of red over his entire body that contrasts wildly with the blues and blacks of his hair and uniform tones.

"Ugh, I'm so sorry, (Y/N)," he groans, his voice cracking under his nerves. "I told them I didn't wanna play, but..." were you really that bad to be stuck in here with? His reaction seemed... over the top. Your shoulders sank downward, humbled by his response to your existence in the same space as him. He sees your crestfallen expression and panics, guilt overcoming him. "Please, no it's not you! I mean no offense. I didn't wanna come in here with anyone." He takes note of how your mood doesn't pick up in the slightest, and lets his head fall into his hands. "This is so embarrassing. I actually do really like you, this is just so awkward."

"You do?" Your ears perk up at that. Maybe you were mistaken in your earlier judgment.

"Yeah! You've always been kind to me, and you're quite interesting and fun to hang out with in this hellhole. Talking to you... really gets my mind off things..." he admits, clearly self-conscious. "I... well sometimes, I hear you talking about how you think you'll be the first victim of the killing game, talking down about yourself. I don’t think you should count yourself out... we all have our own strengths, though I know I ought to take my own advice sometime." He chuckles in such a gentle, exhausted way that it might as well have been merely an exhale.

Neither of you even noticed that during his little speech of praise toward you, he'd reached out and taken your hands gently in his own. It was a reflexive, instinctive, and intimate move. Rather than pull away, now feeling a bit more stable, and comfortable in sharing his thoughts as you hadn't reacted adversely, he pushes a bit further. He rubs his thumb across the back of your hand, and for seven minutes, that's enough for him.

Kiibo / K1-B0

The almost-human robot is standing across from you, arms flat by his side. He looks far more relaxed than you were, passive and maybe in some kind of rest mode, if he had one.

"Now what?" He asks plainly.

"Nobody told you what to do?" You replied, a bit stunned and wondering why he was even here.

"Vaguely. It sounded like a complete waste of time, though. If it's what humans do, it's certainly not in my programming. Therefore, I might as well learn from this experience as not to be embarrassed later on should the topic come up again." He sounded so practical, so... bored with the current situation.

"Well... I don't know how much you were told but this game is about emotions, feelings... touching and flirting, making the other person nervous and flustered, seeing how far you two are willing to go with each other… in a romantic kind of way. It's uniquely human... it may not be productive for you if you can't comprehend-"

"I have plenty of emotions and feelings! I can understand it perfectly fine!" He retorted, offended and seemingly embarrassed. You didn't know he could get embarrassed. Maybe he could in fact enjoy this game to its fullest. You intended to get something out of this experience. This could be fun. You had to admit, you'd been curious about the extent of Kiibo's understanding of human interactions and emotions for a while now. You wondered how much he could feel, emotionally and physically. If you pulled his hair, would he cry out? If you scratched his thigh, would it bleed simulated blood? There could be a lot of room for exciting discovery that awaited you.

"Well then, I'm curious..." you reach a single, cautious hand outward and stroke his hair. It's stunningly soft. It feels shockingly real, not like some cheap synthetic wig or some type of rubber or metal shaped to mimic hair. Kiibo did something like a vibration or shudder, a chill running down his spine. You wondered if this was a programmed response, all artificial and planned, or if Kiibo's free will really extended that far. How real did his creator intend for him to be? For what purpose was he truly built? What did a scientist stand to gain from making a feeling, loving, human-like young man? You could see a war machine or an endless knowledge bank easily being worth the time, but Kiibo didn't seem to excel in pretty much... anything. "How does that feel?"

"I... I don't know. It's making me... relax? I think that's how you'd describe it. I feel like I am running on low power and sluggish, but in a good way? On purpose..." he speaks softly.

"And this?" You run a hand down his pale cheek, and it's warmer than expected, though below a real human’s body temperature for sure. You're so focused on touching the simulated, soft, supple skin, that you don't even notice Kiibo's eyes blown wide open as if scanning you, entranced and staring almost through you. It was safe to say he might have been touched-starved, unused to the sensation.

[maverick-werewolf]

Werewolf Fact #72 - Returning to Human Form

Time for Werewolf Fact #72! Wow, that's a lot. And that's not counting all the books and articles and ask responses and other things I've done over the years. It's been a fun ride.

But for now, let's turn our attention to something a patron pointed out I've never actually discussed... what makes a werewolf return to human form?

I'll be honest: popular culture has taken much more of an interest in laying out the details about returning to the human form than did folklore, overall. In folklore, the act of changing to and from was certainly the centerpiece of the horror, but popular culture and its emphasis on werewolf characters led into a deeper evaluation of such an experience. Folklore also generally discussed the transformation into a monster much more than out of it, at least in more laborious and horrific detail (see Lykaon, Niceros, etc).

We see painful transformations to the werewolf form in folklore quite a bit, as I've discussed before. In fact, the prime example is one of the earliest surviving recorded werewolf legends. And yet even turning into the bestial form was occasionally painless in folklore, involving donning a magic skin or performing a simple ritual to suddenly become a wolf. As for the werewolf returning to the human form, as far as folklore is concerned, that often seems almost or entirely effortless.

Obviously, in popular culture, it's much more common to have the dramatic to or from in either form. I'm personally a big fan of this, as you'd know if you've read any of my fiction (be sure to check that out at my website!), but if you really want to get down and dirty with werewolves being true to folklore, frankly it is overall common for neither transformation to be painful. And certainly it is even less common for the return to human form to be a particularly traumatic or jarring event. That doesn't make for a super dramatic story, though, so we see - especially in past werewolf stories, ones that emphasized horror more - the traumatic tos and froms.

With that out of the way, here are some methods of returning to the human form in folklore...

End of certain timeframe - The most common of triggers to return to the human form, many werewolves will reassume the human form after a certain amount of time has passed. For instance, werewolves in Greek myths like those of Arcadia could return to their human form after seven or ten years, if they hadn't devoured any human flesh. Likewise, other werewolves would return after a certain number of days or even weeks had passed, with or without other circumstances.

At will - There are cases of the werewolf returning to human form at will throughout folklore, or else it is unspecified if there are any other required circumstances or acts.

Removing the magic skin/item - This can vary from being difficult (such as with Sigmund and Sinfjotli) to being as easy as "peeling back the wolf skin," such as in the tale of the werewolves of Ossory. There are many other examples as well, with varying degrees of difficulty or triggers.

Using a salve - In some stories, a salve is rubbed on the body to reassume the human form. This is also the case with assuming the wolf form. This is more common in the Renaissance/Early Modern period, overall, often with Satanic werewolf or even witches-rebranded-as-werewolves-by-modern-scholars, though there are a few cases otherwise.

Putting on your clothes again - In some stories, a werewolf who sheds his clothes turns into the wolf form, and in order to don the human form once more, he must return to his clothing. Sometimes, the clothes turn to stone in the meantime, until he returns to put them back on. Or, such as with Bisclavret, the clothes may be hidden, trapping the werewolf in bestial form.

Curse removal - In some stories, whoever cursed the werewolf must lift the curse in order to return the werewolf to human form. This is the case in tales wherein the werewolf doesn't go back and forth at all but is someone cursed to become a wolf and stay that way until said curse is lifted, less like a traditional werewolf.

Daybreak - Some werewolves returned to the human form at daybreak. While this didn't appear in stories directly very often, it is mentioned in assorted sourcebooks, such as Baring-Gould and Summers discussing werewolves and how "the desire comes upon them at night." It can also be speculated based on events in stories, such as Niceros's Tale, but the circumstances there were never explicitly stated. So this one may be slightly more questionable than the others if you want direct story sources, but I'd say there are plenty of sources around enough to justify it being on this list.

I am not including those funky ones you see all across the internet that weirdos bandy about in their clickbait list articles, like "tossing iron over the werewolf's head" or whatever, because I need a lot more cross-referenced actual examples of those to include them in a list such as this, as opposed to unfounded Google results that D&D players then like to grab and turn into le silleh memes.

Note that this list, as always, doesn't cover every single possibility seen in folklore. I'm not even going to pretend I'm trying to do that here. That will be in the future Werewolf Facts book that I'm publishing in a few years (yes, I am working on that).

And that just about covers the general overview! Hope you enjoyed the post. Be sure to check out the links below. Until next time!

( If you like my blog, be sure to follow me here and elsewhere for more folklore and fiction, including books, especially on werewolves! You can also sign up for my free newsletter for monthly werewolf/vampire/folklore facts, a free story, and book previews.

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[my-status-single]

The One Where Peter Parker Has a Baby Chapter 2

He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. They won’t let him run to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s with Happy. He can’t go to him. He’s four. His name is Ben. He’s safe with Happy. He’s safe. His name is Ben. He’s four. He’s Peter’s.

She had been pregnant.  It had been early.  So early that it had been months before she even realised. Half of the universe disappeared, Peter included. And months later she had given birth to their son. Their son. Ben.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

Fic Summary: Mostly canon compliant fic that centres around the relationship of Tony Stark's daughter and Peter Parker.

Notes: This is a Peter Parker/Reader fic. It jumps back and forth between the "present" (after the blip is reversed) and the past (pre blip reversal). The main focus is Peter and our girl Y/N, but there will be exploration into other relationships as well. These include but are not limited to Tony/Steve Peter/Harley Harley/Harry Peter/Harley/Harry Steve/Bucky Tony/Stephen.

Each chapter will have content warnings listed that are specific to the chapter just for added security, there will also be a summary of the chapter if the content is something you don't want to engage with but would like to continue to the next chapter. There will also be a comprehensive list of warnings. The severity of these topics varies from very intense to simply implied. Be sure to check the individual chapters for more detailed descriptions of how these themes are used.

Fic Content Warning: Underage sex, unplanned pregnancy, teen pregnancy, polyamoury, child abuse/neglect, parental death, suicide, self harm, Tony Stark in Endgame

Please, if there is ever something in this or any of my fics that you feel needs a content warning, feel free to message me and I will make sure to add it.

I want this to be a safe place for everyone.

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From the author: Taglist is OPEN, just leave a comment or send me a dm xxx

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Chapter Notes: First major canon divergence. Tony and Steve meet in early 2001 as Tony had taken over for Howard in SHIELD after his death. Let’s not think about it too hard. By the end of 2001 they are established in a relationship. And early 2002 they find out about the pregnancy. Reader is born in August of 2002.

It might be a bit annoying to have the reader be so flushed out as that can distract and make it harder to insert yourself into the story but…the timeline bro.

Word count: 1114

Chapter Content Warnings: Child neglect-Mentions of Howard Stark who is a bad dad. Reader's mother is very uninterested in the reader after the birth homophobia-Steve talks about being with a man in the 40s and it is lightly implied that it was not safe pregnancy-Tony gets a woman pregnant alcohol-Steve and Tony drink beer Stony-Steve and Tony are a couple

Chapter Summary: This chapter establishes the relationship between Tony and Steve and explains how the reader came to be. Reader is the product of a one night stand from Tony prior to becoming exclusive with Steve. Reader’s mother, Katherine, is a scientist working to recreate the super serum. She is described as cold and unattached.

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Chapter 1

Tony really tried to hate Steve when they first met. Truly. For reasons he found completely justified.

His dad was an ass.

And as far as he was concerned, that was Steve’s fault.

It ended up being impossible to hate him though. Because he was just so damn nice.

Which made Tony irrationally angry.

Steve wasn’t all that impressed by Tony. He hadn’t been all that impressed with Howard either though.

He didn’t really have any particularly strong thoughts or emotions about Tony.

He was mostly baffled Howard had had a kid.

He never seemed like the type.

Regardless

They both had a strange pull toward the other.

Like the other was a connection to something long past.

Steve is someone who knew Tony’s father, who he had grown up hearing about.

Tony was Howard’s son. And though he was rarely on the same page as him, he had still been a friend. And Tony was the closest thing to something from home.

They somehow ended up as something akin to friends.

Neither were great at the whole sleeping, or self care in general, thing, so there were lots of late nights, lots of long talks, lots of secrets shared. They spoke of Tony’s dating life, Steve wanted to know just how similar Tony was to his father. And during one of those talks, after some light teasing about what Steve must have gotten up to back in the day, Steve admitted that he and Bucky had been in a relationship.

Tony wasn’t exactly surprised.

“So, you’re gay then?” He asks him. They are sat on the floor of Tony’s lab, a half eaten box of pizza between them, and beers in their hands.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever really needed to label it.” Steve admits. “I just knew Bucky was my person.” He shrugs.

Tony understands this at some level. The not needing a label, not the other thing.

“You don’t have to label it.” He says, possibly trying to put Steve at ease. “I never have. I just like…the people I like.” He says. “I’ve never committed myself to someone the way you have though.

Steve nods slowly and sips his drink. “Don’t you get lonely?”

This causes Tony to pause. 

He’s never really alone. He never really allows himself to be. Like he needs a buffer between him and his head. There are plenty of people, both in and outside of his bed. He’s popular. He’s desired, wanted, sought after. He’s never lacking in people who want to give him their time.

He finishes off his drink.

“Yeah.” He says finally.

Things change between them after that night. Like there was a newfound understanding between them. Both were tired of being lonely.

It starts out as just sex. Which was new ground for Steve, and he struggled with it for a while. Until he realised that his struggles weren’t from it being casual sex, but that he was developing feelings for Tony and didn’t want it to be casual sex.

Steve had always been pretty straightforward, but he still struggled a lot with the thought of confessing. He wanted to keep Tony in his life and was worried he’d run at the mention of commitment.

But its been over a year since they met. And months since they started sleeping together.

So he just…tells him one night.

He lacked some elegance in it if he was honest with himself.

Blurting out “I want you to be my boyfriend” while you’re balls deep in someone isn’t exactly tactful.

But it worked out okay for him in the end.

The universe is a bit fucked up though.

Because just months later Tony comes to him with life altering news that neither of them had been prepared for.

And with that news Tony brought an out.

“You didn’t sign up for this.” Tony says quietly.

“No, but neither did you.” Steve responds. He’s never seen Tony so…sullen. So conflicted.

“I knew the risks of fucking someone without a condom.” Tony says bluntly. “This was always a possibility.” He lets out a breath. “I…I’m gonna step up. I’m gonna be this baby’s dad. But you don’t have to be.” He says quietly. “I’ll understand if you go.”

Steve lets out a breath and takes both of Tony’s hands. “I was in love with a man in the 40s. Tony, I gave up on the idea of having children before I was even old enough to consider them in the first place. They were never an option.” Tony goes a bit pale. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want them.” He continues. “I knew who I was getting involved with, Tony. And if having you means having this baby then I guess we’re going to be parents.”

And it’s as simple as that.

In August of that year their daughter was born.

Their daughter’s mother was someone Steve had never met, prior to going to the hospital when she went into labour. But he knew her name. He’d learned her name, read about her. Read about a lot of people like her when he had looked himself up. He learned that there were a distressing number of people trying to recreate Erskine’s original serum. This woman, Katherine, was one of them.

She was a tall, slender woman. Stereotypically beautiful but almost hollow looking. Like there was something missing inside of her.

He doesn’t remember her ever holding the baby. She hardly looked at her. Something told him she had no interest in being a mother but somehow went through with the pregnancy anyway.

But he didn’t dwell on it. He didn’t care.

Because if this precious, tiny, perfect baby girl wasn’t reason enough…the way Tony looked when he held his baby was enough to make him ignore the slight concern he felt over the way Katherine was responding to motherhood.

Tony was built to be a father.

He was so perfect with her. And Steve had never been so fond of another person.

All his outward, arrogant facade broke down the second he was with their girl. She had him wrapped around his finger.

And Steve was no better.

He knew he was in trouble the first time they’d ever made eye contact.

How could he ever say no to this tiny girl?

Katherine was clearly not interested in being a mother to her daughter. She made no fuss when Tony asked if the baby could live with him. She wasn’t breastfeeding, and the baby was clearly more attached to Tony. But despite their request, she wouldn’t sign over her parental rights. Therefore, physical custody was shared between Katherine and Tony.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @bitchy-bi-trash

[ellecdc]

🧺 as easy as abc -> H, I, N, O for Barty and Remus please 🫶

idk if you meant SFW or NSFW? so I'll do both as long as I haven't already answered them which you can find by searching "ABC's" on my blog!

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

I've answered this for them already!

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

I feel like Barty would have said this to you before you'd even agreed to go out with him, but the first serious time I think might be after sex tbh....I think at first, that's the closest he can imagine every feeling to someone and that's the only way he knows how to express it so it would follow right after.

I think for Remus it would slip out as the two of you were joking and bantering back and forth having a fun time. You'd tease him about something and say like "you know what, Remus? We're done. I'm leaving." and he'd be laughing and go "what? you're calling this off already? I love you and you're going to leave." and then he'd be like 😳. I don't think it would take tooooooooo long but it wouldn't be super fast; if he admits it out loud, it might hurt more when he loses you

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

I've answered this for Barty already! I see Remus having a really detailed and structured night time routine; it is always the same and never varies. The only thing that might change is what time it happens. It's so routine that neither of you have to even think about what you're doing as you dance around each other in sync before climbing into bed together. then I see him all soft and gooey; some sweet (SFW) pillow talk and giggles before falling asleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Barty is an open book; you never have to wonder what he's feeling/thinking/doing because he's already told you and he's in the process of making it everyone else's problem.

Remus has an air of mystery to him, I think it might take you a while to figure out his tells/how he's feeling because he seems really impassive. I think it would take a while for him to start opening up to you, and not just his usual self-deprecating jokes. I think it might even take you getting upset/arguing with him about it before he realizes he's still keeping you at arms length

18+ below

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Barty partakes in manscaping, I think Remus might be a little au-natural/trim it shorter

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think it depends for both of them tbh. I think Barty talks a big game sometimes and then ends up being a total melt in bed just cooing and fussing over you. I think Remus is usually a sweetie pie and is always "making love" vs. "fucking", but close to a full moon he's a bit of an animal

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I think Remus would say no to breath play (feels too dangerous for him, doesn't want to hurt you). I also think he'd say no to CNC [maybe free use would be okay? but would still make you use your safe words and even then, I think he'd struggle]

I have a hard time saying for Barty tbh......I think he'd be down for everything at least once!

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

hmmm I think it depends on their mood (e.g., after a full moon, Remus prefers receiving because he's sore and tired and wants you to make him feel good/take care of him) but generally I wanna say they both prefer GIVING. Barty's head is sloppy and rushed but he's enthusiastic and gets the job done. Remus is a fucking god at it.

[serve-cunt]

HELLOOOOOOO IT IS I, CONFUSED AND BEFUDDLED NEW TENNIS FAN ANON, BACK AGAIN WITH MORE QUESTIONSSSSS

however this time I am a fair bit LESS confused and befuddled because that was a WONDERFUL explanation of everything I asked, thank you so much zoe you are literally the loml this helped so much

so what I have deduced is that the next grand slam tournament is the French open (muddy one lmao) which sounds SO fun and cool and I will be watching

more questions if you do not mind (i am sorry)

how much does grass/clay/hard court affect play??? Is it like a MASSIVE difference???

you mentioned a thing called Break Point in the fic which I thought was a made up tennis equivalent of drive to survive but APPARENTLY IT IS REAL AND EXISTS, so should I watch that????

how does the scoring work? I know the basic concept is bonkity bonk hit ball back and forth and try to make it touch the ground in your opponent's court, but I think it's like points within sets within games within matches???? am i right or do I have the order fucked up (I probably do) and what are the details of all that????

is there a lot of bias towards men's tennis vs women's? Obviously there are almost no girls in f1 ever and I know a lot of sports like football have HEAVY bias towards men, is tennis like that? I feel like not as much because it seems like I hear just as much about players like the Williams sister and naomi osaka as I hear about people like Roger Federer and Andy Murray? is that true?

who are the top 5-10 players in the world rn? who's number one? and like pls point me to somewhere where I can find a very basic fact file of sorts on each of them, I need to know who's the lewis and max and sebastian of tennis....

what's the next big-ish tournament in the next few weeks ish that you think I'd be able to handle??? like an atp 250 or 500 or smtj??? bc I wanna start Watching but the French open is SO far away

gimme a few basic facts on each of your favourite players because im sure you will appreciate the opportunity to infodump about your faves just as much as I will appreciate the introduction :))))

any good tennis movie recs? I've seen that thing with will Smith about the Williams and that was SO GOOD it was ages ago that I saw it though so I remember nothing lmao

obviously feel free to drop in random facts or anything or WHATEVER, I WANT TO KNOW ALL OF THE THINGIES

i think that is most of my questions???? how are you??? how is life??? i hope you know how much I appreciate you because you are SAVING MY LIFE here, it is now time to go stalk those other blogs you recommended....BYEEEEE ZOE ILYYY <3

HELLO AGAINNNN back for more 😈😈😈 this is how people get HOOKED .. the way I rubbed my little goblin hands together to start typing up an answer to all of this LMAOO ok here we go …

"how does grass/clay/hard court affect play"

a LOT! in simplest terms, different surfaces change how a ball bounces. but that has a huge impact on the play: clay is the slowest surface, because it's kind of grippy so the ball loses momentum. that's good if you like to stay at the baseline, be patient, and wait for somebody to make a mistake (which is why I gave that surface to Oscar lol). Grass is fastest because it's a slick surface (no grip) but it's unpredictable because it will be more uneven & different courts will feel very different. another issue w/ the season being short! but if you're a quick learner and you like to play close to the net, grass is for you. Hard court is like. "neutral" surface. it's the most common so everybody knows how to play it! you'll often hear players talk about different hard-court tournaments being "slower" or "faster", generally what they're talking about is the specific surface material, which is the cushion over the concrete that can vary in terms of bounce & grippiness.

"should I watch Break Point"

hahahahahahahahhahahahahahahha. oh no!! idk ….. I really don't like Break Point, I think it's a failed attempt to bring the success of DtS to tennis .. but idk, maybe watching BP as a newbie is helpful?? you will at least start to recognize some names which might be fun?? but yeah it's not as good of an entry point to how the sport is played (imo) and because tennis doesn't have the contained cast of characters that f1 has it doesn't actually help you THAT much with recognizing players on the courts, lmao. also certain episodes made me hate certain players ... looking at you episode about the american men ... taylor fritz my enemy ...

but!! it might help you to pick a few faves based purely on vibes hehe

"how does the scoring work?"

akdjfhalksdjfhakjh how DOES the scoring work … great q … no jk it's actually not too bad you just have to let it settle into your brain lol!! okay so:

within a GAME:

players start at zero, or "love". Why "love"?? who knows!! but here we are. then scoring proceeds through: 15, 30, 40. why?? WHO KNOWWWSSSS

you HAVE to win a game by two points. if you're ahead 40-30 and you win the next point, you win the game. HOWEVER, if the game is tied at 40-40, you are at "deuce", and you have to win TWO points in order to win the game. if you win one point you have advantage: that will look like "A-40" on most scoreboards. if your opponent wins the next point you lose the advantage and you drop back to deuce. so a score could look like this over the course of 6 points:

40-40 — you win a point -> A-40 — they win a point -> 40-40 — you win a point -> A-40 — they win a point -> 40-40 — you win a point -> A-40 — you win another point! -> game!

did that help or did it make everything MORE confusing?

within a SET:

so you won your first game! the set is now 1 game to zero, or 1-0. Time to play the second game. Oh no!! your opponent is serving for this game and they won it, the set is tied 1-1. No worries -- your turn to serve again. You hold your serve! 2-1. Ah shoot, so do they. 2-2. Okay, great, you hold again. 3-2. oh my god you BREAK THEIR SERVE!!!! 4-2 BAYBEEE!!! and you hold again! 5-2! they hold: 5-3. okay moment of truth ….. YOU HOLD SERVE AND WIN THE SET 6-3 GOOD JOB YOU'RE DOING GREAT SWEETIE !!!! <3

you also have to win a set by two games. remember this rule! win by two is the tennis mantra. if a set is tied at 6 games all, it's time for a tie-breaker, and you have to win the tie-breaker by two points. (mostly you play a tie-breaker to 6 points, but this can vary by tournament)

within a MATCH:

you won your first set!! great job your mom is so proud. however. you aren't done yet!! usually you are playing best of three sets, so you still need to win one more set. in Grand Slams if you are a man you are playing best of five, so you need to win TWO more. um. GOOD LUCK!! Here's what a score line might look like:

^You can read that as Bertens being up a set, so the match is currently in the second set, which is currently tied at 1 game all. Venus is serving (that's what that dot by the numbers means) but Bertens is up 2 points. (lmao. 30-love = 2 points up. I apologize for tennis)

omg you lost a set. NO WORRIES YOU CAN COME BACK. best of three: I believe in you <3

"Is there a lot of bias towards men's tennis"

do you even need to ask 🥲🥲🥲 yes unforch. men consistently get the best broadcasting time-slots on tv, they often get more prize money, and they generally have more name recognition. however!! I think tennis has benefitted from some amazing personalities in women's tennis -- the Williams sisters of course, now coco gauff -- and the prize money sitch is improving for sure. there's hope!! but yeah -- it's a scheduling feedback loop!! give the women better tv times and more eyes will be on their matches!! ajdhflakh it's so frustrating to watch tbh!!! anyway.

"who are the top players and how do i find that"

Here are the ATP singles rankings and here are the WTA singles rankings! If you click on each name you will see their official stats page :))

"what's the next big-ish tournament"

here's the list of upcoming ATP tournaments and here's the list of upcoming WTA tournaments - there are some upcoming small-ish tournaments that look fun (atp in rio, wta in dubai) and then … THEN!! Indian Wells :D :D

I'm an Indian Wells DEVOTEE ,, the players really like it, the vibes are so good, celebrities come out from LA, everyone has a nice time, it's SO FUN. all the hype & fun of a slam with slightly lower stakes

"tell me about your favorite players"

HAPPILY OMG.

jannik sinner: part of the "next gen men" wave that includes carlos alcaraz, loooooong of leg, skinny of limb, floofy of hair!! methodical and hard to shake, emotionally and mentally, beautiful clean and powerful play. also !! just!!! seems like a good guy!! def a "class pet" on tumblr lmao (thank you @advantage-sinner )

carlos alcaraz: part of the "next gen men" wave that includes jannik sinner, a phenom, natural talent, all-round player, people are predicting great things for him -- he plays gorgeous, interesting, creative tennis and he has FUN DOING IT, really a joy to watch. the 2023 wimbledon final between him and djokovic (our local villain, but an all-time great in men's tennis) was an incredible, amazing, show-stopping match that he WON and I will remember that day forever and ever and ever amen

coco gauff: crazy athletic, big hitter, hit the scene young, super charismatic on and off court, just very fun to watch

iga sviatek: gorgeous gorgeous player, aggressive as heck, quick as heck, loves clay, loves to put spin on the ball, SUCH A WEIRDO I LOVE HERRRRR she likes lego and she reads a lot, she's such a funny little introvert who happens to be #1 in the world LOL

daniil medvedev: stands so far away from the baseline to return serve he's often out of camera frame. he's so tall and his limbs are just … everywhere … andrey rublev (another fave) calls him "the octopus" … he has the BEST INTERVIEWS HE'S SO FUNNYYYY AHHH

ons jabeur: "minister of happiness" except that lately .. she has not been super happy … she wants to win a slam SO BAD my heart hurts for her … when she's on she's a lovely lovely player, very creative, but when she's off she's hard to watch, just a lot of unforced errors (which is an error that is your own fault, vs an error that you make because your opponent hit a ball that was hard to get to or technically very tricky to return)

I have the occasional emotional fling with andrey rublev (hehe sad wet dog), karolina muchova ( :( sad wet cat), daria kasatkina (…sit on me), caspar ruud (…SIT ON ME), and alex de minaur (cute!!!)

I literally have no tennis movie recs I can't think of a single one BUTTTTTTTT Challengers comes out this year 😈 mike faist my beloved… zendaya in tennis whites ...

I can't believe how many words you let me spew at you @ivystennis and then ASKED FOR MOREEEE I LOVE YOU thanks for "coming out" as it were lmaooooo.

[desultorydenouement]

18, 20, and 22?

hii :D

18. What’s one of your favorite lines you’ve written in a fic?

HARD QUESTION MAN. especially because how much i like my writing varies inversely with how long it’s been since i’ve written it? but this line is definitely up there, from catbag:

“I don’t think I’d ever done something like that,” Quackity admits. “Done something - not for the Guild or in spite of it. Just because I fucking cared. Not until those two, anyway. Not until I took them in. Not for love, or anything - just - maybe so that in ten years, when I’ll need horse tranquilizers just to sleep at night, I could say that I had tried.”

i really loved writing quackity’s voice in this whole scene - he has such a way of saying things and there’s such a muted lonely kind of tragedy to him at this point in the narrative. he’s not a sentimental or kind person, but he still wrestles with how the guild defines him and he’s still a product of circumstance and here we see him wrestling with that fundamental problem at the heart of catbag which is agency and identity and power and how they overlap, and like, yeah, he’s not a good person, but at least he’ll be able to sleep at night?

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

hm, probably “no easy happiness, no simple peace” just because i like the rhythm of it and also it’s fully original i’m pretty sure + ties in really nicely with the fic and my complicated relationship with fix-its .. like the fic was hard for me to write and i remember going back and forth w my beta because i didn’t want it to just be a fix-it. it couldn’t be a fix it because it was smack in the middle of a part of the story that focuses on a relationship we know doesn’t last. it was inherently going to be somewhat tragic. but i wanted it to still celebrate the happiness and peace that they did have even if it was complex and in many ways bittersweet.

22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?

yes usually! i at least have a sense of the theme and tone of the story i want to write, and oftentimes the heretothere evolved as i go. so for catbag, i knew from chapter one the kind of character journey that catbag!tommy needed, and from there it was just obvious where he’d end up. and from there i puzzled out a few touch points of how to get him there. and the minutia i figure out in increasing detail the closer i get to each chapter. so basically yes. i can’t really write without knowing a little bit of the ending.

[tot-musica]

Hello! may I request a fluffy fic of Shaka falling in love with male SO and asking him out?

(SFW) Shaka x Male Reader

I just found out posting on my computer doesn't make me edit all the italics back into the text like I have to do on mobile :') Oh how I have suffered.

Thank you Anon for waiting ten decades for me to finish this through a bunch of writer's block, playing email ping-pong back and forth with my college wondering when they're going to give me my degree, and a couple of illnesses (because I'm stupid and forget to reorder my prescriptions sometimes)

Word Count: A lot

Ao3 Backup Link:

??? years ago

"Just a bit longer - change is coming soon. I can feel it. Then you can finally bring all these wonderful creations to the world."

"I hope so."

You remembered that conversation as yet another government order for bigger, better weapons came in. Would they even be necessary if you just fixed the problems that started the violence?

Sighing, you set aside the clipboard and moved onto something a bit more interesting for the moment. You call it, “selective procrastination.” Today an experiment long awaited for should be reaching its next phase, and you can hardly wait for the new arrival, making time all the more slow.

Ding ding ding!

“Ah! Doctor-” But the older man was already scrambling into the room.

"The first has finished?"

"Yes sir, all indicators have reached their prime. #01 should be rea-"

"Brilliant!!!" He shouts, running down the hall at a speed which no one should be capable of. Your lab coat billows at your feet as you make haste.

—

Good has no face. That was the first belief instilled within him. And so, he covered every inch of flesh, any trace of physical detail. His brethren-counterparts-vegapunks did not even see his face before it was covered. Actually, even he does not recall his complexion. He is synonymous with the helmet, and thus, believed to be a robot by many - and himself.

It's only you that reminds him that there is skin under those gloves, even if it's lab-made.

"I'll make you whatever you want to wear!"

It wasn't something ever forced upon him though. It is just … him, recalling the smile he'd seen since he awakened, and until now.

"A helmet."

While primarily still Vegapunk’s assistant, your secondary talent was fashion - or particularly, fitting Egghead's fashion. And a marvelous helmet it was. Stylish, with all the necessary equipment and tools, radios, etc, that he would need built right in. The first, so to speak, “personalized” object he received.

He already knew moments after he awoke how the lab, how the island, how everything worked. He was given part of Vegapunk's mind after all. But he said nothing as you showed him around, excitedly rambling about the various projects - past, present, and future - conducted, how to operate various machines and doors and knick-knacks and all sorts. And he let you. Because it seemed to make you happy, and good is his nature.

The primary objective of his existence.

But even though he "knew" how everything worked, it had still been a learning experience - on people. Your descriptions, your body language, your thought perception - it varied from the Stella's, and that was crucial education. Learning how others perceive, not just how Vegapunk does.

"Do you know what you want to be called?"

He already knew that. Vegapunk already, subconsciously, gave him a name - but the way you said it, it felt … like a choice.

"Shaka."

"Sha-ka- I like that."

—

For a little while, it was just you and him, as the Doctor worked on the next satellite, while the two of you worked on projects for the good of others. 

"You might be a satellite of Dr. Vegapunk, but you're still human. Don't forget it." You'd winked at him.

Eventually it turned to the point where you became his assistant, as he settled into a routine of operations while the doctor worked on the next satellite, “Evil.”

But, to your credit, even as Lilith arrived and the others, one by one, you still gave him the same amount of attention as you had priorly. But work was filling that time. Friendship turned more towards professionalism. Casual conversations replaced by the constant floods of information passed between one another.

Each satellite had their designated tasks from the beginning, but they all helped with the lab work - usually. Projects and requests piled up, Egghead's population grew as it became an open island, things were exuberant and colorful and so … so …

Surmounting.

And even though the physical signs started to show a long while ago, your mentality never wavered. Not a single crack ever giving. Because the satellites were based on primary emotions and personality traits, it was easy for some to fall off task or grow frustrated, or the opposite - overworking and stressing.

Even to this day, when each Vegapunk is their own boss. And you are the helper. Never ending kindness and support and such a sweet nature that even Lilith behaves - mostly. And thus, she might as well be your lingering second shadow. It's no secret they like you, but Lilith is constantly grabbing your attention, because you indulge her pranks and shenanigans. The flow of conversation between you two like that of what you and him used to have….

Then comes an odd thought. No - a feeling. A bit … jealous? No, jealous is too harsh a term - envious. Yes, envious. He has no ill will towards Lilith, but her "Evil" nature gives her a sort of freedom when it comes to social interactions - she doesn't have to be polite. She doesn't have to have restraint. She can be herself. Because …

Because …

Being good? Is that not himself?

When did he start thinking this way?

Envious.

That is typically not a trait associated with good. Rather, a trait of … all intelligent life.

"Humans, fishmen, many races and species, can be selfish - and it's sort of … sort of like coffee! Or rather addiction - but say you have a cup of coffee, maybe a few, but you have control of yourself right? That is a healthy amount of selfishness. Because it's ok to be "selfish" from time to time. Then there's people who drink barrels of coffee - hypothetically speaking. If a giant drank a barrel of coffee that would be a normal size - but anyway what I'm trying to say is there's many in this world that are addicted to selfishness … or rather, another interesting theory."

"And what is that?"

"Selfishness is fluid - what is considered selfish varies from culture to culture, kingdom to kingdom, person to person - some of what we consider to be the most selfish in the world? Well, they don't see it that way. They have a different standard. But there are also those who know they are selfish, and simply don't care."

You'd yawned back then, leaning back in your chair, "And I guess the same applies to evil. What is evil? What is good? That can only be defined from person to person. Like - Lilith doesn't seem evil to me. She's just the 'evil' of Doctor Vegapunk."

Maybe then, he believes it was then, that he asked his first "real" question. A question he came up with, born of curiosity.

"And what do you think of Doctor Vegapunk?"

You had blinked, almost shocked, but closed your eyes for a long period of time, then, finally, forming speech.

"I think he wants to do good. I think he's a good person. But he's flawed like all of us. He, and I, admittedly, get so caught up in creating things, we're oblivious to what is actually going on with them. When we knew nothing about the unethical treatment of Alber, the Lunarian. When we took so long to see what Caesar was up to. I think that's why he created you, but still - you're all human too. You can't be expected to do and know everything. But I think Vegapunk can ultimately bring the best to this world, if the barriers created can be knocked down. That's why I'm still here." You'd beamed at him, "And he created you, so he's obviously doing something right."

That was the first sensation of what he calls "pang." A skip of his heart, which concerned him at first, believing a defect may have come into play.

"Still. We knowingly make weapons for the government in order to keep receiving their funds. Working for evil, to try and make good. Are we making progress? Or are we just more pawns for the government. I don't know."

Another "pang," a different sort. One that took him a long while to rationalize - he did not want you to feel that way about yourself. Evil? Such as the government? Not in his eyes. You are far too humane for such things. Just watching you breathe, walk, think reminds him of that. You are tangible - the subject of "evil" is more of a broad web of collected objects. And yet he's seen just how much abhorrent evil can be contained in just a single body, that Lilith would never even come close too by any amount.

"If you're ever scared though, remember that even the evil sleep." You once said.

He doesn't need to sleep. York had that covered - more time to think. But you do. Evident, by the way a puddle of drool is forming on the desk.

He believes you meant, "Even the evil have to show their vulnerability."

Though your messy hair and scribbly handwriting suggests otherwise, you are calm and content in this environment. Safe enough to fall asleep in the middle of the lab when he's there.

Dare he not disturb you … but dare he not let you wake up with pain in your neck and back.

He'll stay a little longer, then figure out what to do with you.

—

It can't be too long past midnight, when the only glow in his lab is his desk lamp, that a shadow on the wall makes a sudden movement. And another. He turns to find your hand twitching around something imperceptible, your eyes running laps under your lids.

His head tilts, straightening from his chair to carefully stride over to your hunched form. Reaching out his gloves hand, he-

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" 

He goes to rest his hand on your shoulder when the worst, shrill scream wrings throughout each and every metal corridor in the lab, a clamp now around his wrist. You glare at him - but not at him - at something else, a million stars away. Then they laser in on his hand, squeezing his wrist again.

"Shaka!" Breath rushes in and out of your lungs as you learn to breathe again. 

"Y/n, I believe you have had some sort of nightmare -"

"Not a nightmare - no, more like night terror - too bad to be a bad dream - too bad to be a dream - get it out of my head!"

Pang. He's not exactly equipped for handling … emotional situations …  or 

… Has he just not witnessed one? Either or - you are not you, and that is terrifying, and a remedy must be found.

"Do you want to speak it out of your head?"

"... Oh god … I don't … remember anything. But it was awful. Why is it so dark? Isn't it morning yet? What time is it? What year?"

"Lights!" At his word, the room floods with white light, causing you to blink many times, until your eyes start to return to a normal shape.

"Ah .. thank you." Your heart rate has gone down considerably, and he sees the glaze of sleep returning to you.

"We should get you to your proper bed."

"No - no - I'd rather sleep here - no windows in that room."

There are windows in your room. Plenty. Filled with trickling waterfalls of green, spiky, soft, colorful, assorted appendages tangling across the sill, in the direct light of both the sun and moon. You even have a favorite, Hector, a "Zebra Fasciata Haworthia," or rather, a striped aloe vera plant, small enough to fit in one's hand, which hangs in a pot off the wall.

Just one of many details he's stored away.

He takes both your hands gently, "I promise there are windows, and light. You will not be in a box. Come, y/n, I'll take you there."

"... Okay…"

Though each step provides some relief, you're still so tense, so beyond unusual. Arriving at the room, you both cross the threshold. A small, humble space, filled with papers and knick-knacks, books and trinkets, but clean nonetheless, as if it says, "I am a well-loved home."

You only shrugged your coat and shoes off before plopping down on the bed, but you haven't let go of his wrist, staring at him.

"Please don't leave." It's just a plea, and yet … something else hides within it … something … ominous. 

How could he say no?

That's how he ends up, awkwardly squeezed in a twin sized bed, boots hanging off the end, helmet still on as you cling to him, a lifeline attached this time, before taking the plunge into the dream world.

Tilting his head, he analyzes your face. There's a furrow in your brow, which he quickly corrects with a smudge of a thumb. Puffy bags - have you not been sleeping? Has he not noticed? How would he not notice? How strange….

While he doesn't possess fatigue… he's feeling a bit… sleepy… perhaps shutting down… isn't … such … isn't can … be taknvcggg. 

—

"You actually slept!?"

"Yes, I just felt like doing so."

"Who are you and what have you done to Shaka? You never do anything you wanna do." Lilith points, then laughs.

"Oh my satan- you're keeping secrets!"

"I'm not keeping secrets."

"You tottalllly are."

"It's not a secret if it is known. It may be that you just have not tuned in on that fact."

"Hey! Don't call me stupid!"

"I didn't call you anything."

The woman keeps following him around the lab, giggling, “We all know you’ve known Y/N the longest - you miss the attention right!? I know you’re jelly.”

"I'm not jealous, promise me."

"Ah! Then - you're smitten! Hee hee hee!!! I can totally use this for blackmail!"

"Blackmail?"

"Yep! You don't let me try out the mechs, and I'll tell everyone on the island that you, a Vegapunk, are distracted from your work because of a secret crush!"

"............ But I am not?"

"Doesn't matter whether you admit it or not - rumors are rumors."

"………. You're evil."

She smiles ear to ear.

-

Well, that’s something new. Smitten. In context, it might be considered unprofessional. 

"You might be a satellite of Dr. Vegapunk, but you're still human.”

Still human huh?

The click of boots draws him from thought.

“Good morning, Shaka.” Your voice is quieter but still as kind as ever, hunched over, hair sticking out at odd points, holding two cups of coffee in each hand, with a bunch of clipboards jammed under your arms. You look about as dreary as the weather outside. “My apologies for last night … I wasn’t quite myself … I hope it didn’t disturb you…”

“No,” he accepts the coffee from you, “I do not mind in the slightest. Does that happen often?”

“Eh, well nightmares are nothing unusual, but I guess that one particularly got to me - don’t even remember what happened.” You lean against the edge of his desk, sipping at your coffee, nodding up, “Climatizer broken I assume?”

“Yes. Lilith and Edison are up there trying to fix it-” A yelp is heard, then cursing, and soon the sight of Lilith sliding down the island’s dome. “Emphasis on trying.”

You hide a small smile behind your hand, “Could be something like … ‘gravity boots’ would be a good invention.”

“Hmm … yes - yes! I’m sure Pythagoras will love that!” 

“Well, I’ll get to work now.” You wink, going to your desk to organize the clipboards.

Tick. Tick. Tick. His mind easily backtracks to the previous conversations like dots connected by threads. Nightmares? Hmm. It would be nice to build something that could prevent nightmares - but would that be ethical? Would you even accept it? 

Problem is … he’s asked himself this about twenty times in the last twelve hours. And nothing else. Lilith might be right - he has a problem. Loud taps mix with the noise around him. Papers shifting, printing, numbers and keys being pressed, the dull roar outside the laboratory. He finds that it is caused by his own finger, when two of yours link with his.

“You okay? You’ve been staring off for quite awhile. How about we take a walk?” You flash him your usual smile.

“Yes, perhaps that would be nice.”

You walk side by side, a unison of footsteps on metal slats (two fingers still curled around his). Down a hall you lead, towards a high glass dome, “There should be a new shipment of plant species growing in the greenhouse.”

The greenhouse is more of a village than a house, ten large domes, connected to one another, house plants from various climates, to the dry and hot, cold yet humid, aquatic, tropical, and more. The plants provide both a means of genetic testing, and discovering new medicines. (Anything could be cured here - if the government actually allowed it). The tropical dome has a high ceiling with stairs meandering along the sides of an artificial waterfall. The balcony at the top allows one to look out over the entire treeline.

“Look,” You reach your hand out, hovering just a broad banana tree leaf, “I remember the first leaf of this thing being the size of my pinky, now just one of these things dwarfs us.”

Drip. Drip.

“Eh?” You look up as droplets become a sprinkle - “Aggh! It’s not supposed to rain right now!” You laugh as you both run down the stairs for cover, taking refuge in the roots of a Banyan.

“Guess everyone’s getting rained on today!” You smile.

“A bit embarrassing that things are breaking all over today.”

“Well, everything needs their downtime.” Arms folding, you lean against the tree, looking up at the dense vermillion, sparked with flecks of orange, splashes of red, a few pink and purples, and dusty yellow light leaking through the dripping thicket.

You look as calm as ever. Anyone would believe so, that is, except for him, staring off like you could melt into the bark and become one with it forever, in that moment.

Say something. Literally anything.

“We must look quite out of place in a jungle.”

You snort, “Yeah I guess.”

If nothing appears wrong, why does the tension feel as thick as the humidity? What exactly is it for? As if he’s … waiting for something … something that wants to happen, but cannot be put into words -

Actually your face is turning as red as some of the flowers in the room, “Umm … Shaka - EEEEEEEK!!!!!!!!”

What can only be described as a, “big ass fucking spider,” with a vengeance, plummets from the tree tops. Then you barrel into him, half running into his arms, half pro-wrestler tackling. The silver thing is gone as soon as it came, leaving -

Leaving you wrapped in his arms.

When did I close my arms when did I close my arms when did I close my arms when did I close my arms-

More surprising, you haven’t even tried to move, trapped in some equal state of shock, staring a hole through his chest. “What were you-

“Hbgbgbbggsummm-Idon’twanttobeweirdorunprofessionaloranythingbutIlikeyouwouldyoumaybewanttogooutwithmeyoudon’thavetosorry.”

“. . . . . . . . That is what was clogging your mind? I almost believed you were going to tell me that you were dying or something else dire-”

“It is dire! I mean - to me - uh - kinda…”

“You … like me?”

“Maybe … okay yes - god - I’m a grown ass adult, this is so embarrassing…”

“Ah…” he clears his throat, “I am not opposed to the idea … quite … contrary…” It’s his turn to avoid your brightening gaze.

“Heh … I … kinda thought that but …” “Oh …” He knew he had feelings beyond camaraderie for you, but the fact that his internal struggle was more than obvious to everyone, including you … oof. That’s a bit of a blow to his pride. “But wait, y/n, why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m saying things now.”

He chuffs, “Yes, yes I suppose - don’t avoid the question.”

“It felt … almost … forbidden? The positions we work in - I thought you believed the same, and it would be better left unsaid….”

“Now, I recall, you were the one who said, ‘You might be a satellite of Dr. Vegapunk, but you're still human. Don't forget it.’ Are you implying you’re wrong?”

“No! No - just - you must know right? Why it might be … frowned upon?"

Gentle rain fills the silence of gathering thoughts. Science, math, those are things that you can both solve easily. But … 'this' is another game. Instead, he just holds you closer against the vinyl of his jacket as the humid air fills your lungs with the scent of wet earth.

Who cares? Why should they care? Why should you two care about what they care? He certainly does not care when you look up to smile at him.

—

After you've parted ways, with a sweet wink and a giddy blush, Lilith appears as he rounds the corridor.

"You're welcome."

What?

She flashes a silvery object in her hand … a mechanical spider. 

"D- YOU SET OFF THE SPRINKLERS!?"

She runs away faster than he can keep up, cackling and waving the spider around.

-

The aroma of a swamp is both refreshing and … well, a tad moldy. “Earthy.” The bench he sits on is more lichen than wood, the cobble brick below held together with spurts of moss. A few old street lamps light the pavilion in the greenhouse room, home to thick species of hanging trees and gnarled roots, wreathed in massive clumps of Tillandsia usneoides, “No York, they’re not a form of pasta, you can’t eat them.”

Crickets and frogs sing their symphony throughout the marsh; despite the fact that they only housed plants here, the animals found their way in inevitably. 

And yet, this is exactly as it should be. No one cleans the bricks, no one fixes the bench, no one trims the moss - because it was here to begin with, and will stay that way. 

Finally, you appear from the red brick road into the central hub of the dome, “Sorry, am I late?”

“No, I am early.” 

It’s not that fancy of a meeting, but your hair was more kept than usual, lacking your signature lab coat for a more casual wear. And he - well he’d changed his coat … well the same coat, just a different color. 

Settling next to him, you placed a little wicker basket, holding various kinds and colors of snacks, “I set the applesauce on fire, but it’s still good.”

“How did you manage that?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself.”

The two of you sat in relative silence, letting it all sink into your bones. Though he did not really eat, he nudged his helmet up just enough to nibble on the treats. Yes, you’d definitely set the applesauce on fire, but it was still very tasty.

You chuckle, cracking a wide smile, “I have something to show you. Hold on.” Disappearing into the foliage, he hears a few clicks, a muffled curse, then a soft bang. The lamps go out.

Darkness bursts into stars. 

Green flecks of light swim across the walls, the bricks, the trees, everything. He stands and is surrounded in it, no longer on the ground, but floating in a void of firelights. Fingers curl around his own gloved digits. 

“When on earth did you set this up?”

“Long ago, actually. I come here at night sometimes.”

“‘Sometimes.’ This is an awful lot of work.”

“Worth it.”

You plant a kiss on the side of his helmet, taking his other hand, as he wraps an arm around your waist, and you both begin stepping to a silent song.

Attempt. Attempt dancing that is. It lasts about twenty seconds before someone's shoe gets caught under another's and you both go fumbling to the floor, filling the greenhouse with echoes of laughter.

[dreamingdarklyblog]

Here's The Deal

Fuck it. Here we go.

So as many of you know, I've had some serious long term health issues. I can never remember how specific I've been in the past, especially since it varies from place to place what I've bothered to clarify and such. The short version is that I've been dealing with cancer since I was in 8th grade. Numerous surgeries, yada yada yada.

I don't feel like a whole list of details and specifics are needed here (and you probably don't want to hear it anyway), but I'll say that it's a crazy rare form and the usual markers of staging and survival rates and such are meaningless.

So for twenty odd years I've been getting bits of me cut out, and then learning to cope with the aftermath.

Why am I explaining/re-explaining this?

Well as many of you also know, I've been having health issues since this summer. One of those things that's been unexplained was chronic hip pain and difficulty walking. After a lot of back and forth and arguing (the balancing act of pushing doctors to actually take symptoms seriously, without pushing so hard that they dismiss you as a hypochondriac is exhausting) I finally got an x-ray booked last month. The X-ray showed something weird, and my doctor agreed to schedule a CT for several months from now. I did an end run around him and showed the x-ray to an oncologist who's treated me in the past, who agreed waiting a few months was a bad idea and got me in a CT much sooner, two days ago in fact.

Yesterday I he called me and I got the results (Always a great sign when a doctor calls you 20 hours after a test with the results, right?). It's essentially confirmed that my cancer has returned and I'm going to need surgery. (Technically it's not confirmed till I get a biopsy result, but it's "confirmed" enough that they are just starting scheduling for radiation and surgery now without waiting)

The good news is that the rest of the scan is clear. It's just the one metastasis, and it's not attacking anything vital.

The bad news is that something doesn't need to be vital for it to be extremely inconvenient to lose. Best case scenario seems to be I come out of this with reconstructive surgery and a LOT of physio and rehab. Worst case is probably losing the use of a leg or two.

What does that mean for my work here?

At the moment, nothing really. I'm starting work on December, and hope to get everything caught up before Christmas =). As treatment starts, it might start to interfere. It really depends on a lot of factors that I just don't have any information about yet. So I will keep you posted when I know more.

So anyway, this is just me trying to keep you informed since I feel like I owe you some information given that you send me money ;)

*edit* Some people seem unsure if they are "allowed" to ask questions. By all means feel free, as with anything else you can ask whatever you want. I might not give an answer if it's too personal, but I promise I won't be offended. ;)

[dreamingdarkly22]

Here's The Deal

Fuck it. Here we go.

So as many of you know, I've had some serious long term health issues. I can never remember how specific I've been in the past, especially since it varies from place to place what I've bothered to clarify and such. The short version is that I've been dealing with cancer since I was in 8th grade. Numerous surgeries, yada yada yada.

I don't feel like a whole list of details and specifics are needed here (and you probably don't want to hear it anyway), but I'll say that it's a crazy rare form and the usual markers of staging and survival rates and such are meaningless.

So for twenty odd years I've been getting bits of me cut out, and then learning to cope with the aftermath.

Why am I explaining/re-explaining this?

Well as many of you also know, I've been having health issues since this summer. One of those things that's been unexplained was chronic hip pain and difficulty walking. After a lot of back and forth and arguing (the balancing act of pushing doctors to actually take symptoms seriously, without pushing so hard that they dismiss you as a hypochondriac is exhausting) I finally got an x-ray booked last month. The X-ray showed something weird, and my doctor agreed to schedule a CT for several months from now. I did an end run around him and showed the x-ray to an oncologist who's treated me in the past, who agreed waiting a few months was a bad idea and got me in a CT much sooner, two days ago in fact.

Yesterday I he called me and I got the results (Always a great sign when a doctor calls you 20 hours after a test with the results, right?). It's essentially confirmed that my cancer has returned and I'm going to need surgery. (Technically it's not confirmed till I get a biopsy result, but it's "confirmed" enough that they are just starting scheduling for radiation and surgery now without waiting)

The good news is that the rest of the scan is clear. It's just the one metastasis, and it's not attacking anything vital.

The bad news is that something doesn't need to be vital for it to be extremely inconvenient to lose. Best case scenario seems to be I come out of this with reconstructive surgery and a LOT of physio and rehab. Worst case is probably losing the use of a leg or two.

What does that mean for my work here?

At the moment, nothing really. I'm starting work on December, and hope to get everything caught up before Christmas =). As treatment starts, it might start to interfere. It really depends on a lot of factors that I just don't have any information about yet. So I will keep you posted when I know more.

So anyway, this is just me trying to keep you informed since I feel like I owe you some information given that you send me money ;)

*edit* Some people seem unsure if they are "allowed" to ask questions. By all means feel free, as with anything else you can ask whatever you want. I might not give an answer if it's too personal, but I promise I won't be offended. ;)

[dlaprobably]

Servantember, Day 5: Franz Liszt (Foreigner)

Franz Liszt, Hungarian composer and pianist, is Day 5's pick! Famed for his vast and varied number of works, his skill at the keys, and his influence on countless other musicians of note, Liszt has gone down in history as one of the greats of the Romantic era, and his work remains incredibly popular to the present day.

...However, there was a curious period in his younger years where he was observed to have a bizarre effect on audiences. Crowds at his concerts would experience extreme joy, scramble to get near him, and fight over whatever belongings of his they could get their hands on, up to remnants of cigars. Physicians at the time were baffled by why there would be such a reaction to an attractive fellow like him, and eventually declared the phenomenon a medical condition termed "Lisztomania".

Lore Notes:

-A polite but anxious gentleman, happy to play his music and teach others, but fearful of the potential side effects. While he seems much himself as he was in life and doesn't much understand why he's been brought back in this way, the spectral piano tells a different story. He insists that he doesn't know anything about magecraft or whatever this is that's been summoned along with him, that he'd really rather it went away, and that he'd like to go back home now, please.

-All readings show an outpouring of otherworldly energy from him, indicating the presence of some great and terrible eldritch being mixed in with his Spirit Origin. He behaves much as any musician Caster might, his playing and conducting rendering sonic attacks possible through the power of his keyboard, despite his best efforts. His music, much like the keyboard, takes on a glowing, staticky aura as it surrounds friend and foe alike, but attempts at studying it in more specific detail have proven ineffective. Whatever it is that's fueling this, it's powerful and not of this Earth, but the compositions and their notes are exact matches for those of Liszt's, no matter how unusual they may seem on observation.

-Liszt's Noble Phantasm, Lisztomania, puts his audience into a state of high emotion, compelling them to dance, sing, swear their undying loyalty to the musician, fight one another, and generally go wild. He swears he's not doing anything differently from normal, and even when he refuses to play, his music flows through the keys as if of its own volition. Absolutely nothing seems to happen to those who are wearing ear plugs or sufficiently covering their ears when the Noble Phantasm is used. For that matter, it doesn't seem to affect those who don't care for his music one way or another, or even audiences who moderately like or dislike his work. How odd.

-An easy enough Servant to work with despite his reluctance and the otherworldly force's mercurial nature. Caution is advised should whatever it is manage to fully emerge, if it is at all possible. Direct combat is not recommended, but if you point him at a foe, the music will generally do the rest.

Design Notes:

A bit of a shorter one this time around! Foreigner Liszt was entirely inspired by my reading about the phenomenon of "Lisztomania", and my knowledge of Liszt's music is limited to listening to a few of his compositions in preparation for this. Sorry to any Lisztheads out there who feel I didn't do him justice! I'll leave the proper Caster Liszts to people more familiar with his work. Design-wise I just drew the man himself as he looked to the best of my ability, with the real weirdness coming forth in the spectral keyboard and glowing aura. As for the nature of the beast, who can say? One thing can be said for sure, though:

[regallibellbright]

[ID: Six images of a crocheted amigurumi doll of Lea from Kingdom Hearts, shown in the outfit he wears during the end credits of 3. The first shows the amigurumi as a whole, lying flat. The second shows a closeup of its hair, long red triangular spikes, viewed from the side, and the tiny collar on its plaid undershirt just above a black hooded jacket. The third focuses on its plaid shirt, here crocheted in brown with plaid embroidery. The fourth shows a side view of its jacket and sleeves. The fifth shows its legs, bent, and crocheted black boots. The sixth shows Lea sitting next to a doll of Xion, in a matching outfit, sitting on a wooden jewelry box and waving to the viewer. Xion’s legs are dangling over the side, while one of Lea’s is bent to almost lean against the edge of the box. End ID]

A (MUCH) more detailed breakdown under the cut!

Figured I may as well get around to a writeup on this guy, too! Behold! This doll gave me tendonitis for two years. (That’s reductive, of course, but I AM pretty certain those hair spikes were a turning point in the Great Repetitive Stress Injury of 2020.) Still pretty dang proud of it, though. Which is good, because where Xion’s outfit caused me trouble by being Things Not Meant For Crochet, Lea’s outfit caused me trouble by being doable, just hard.

For a start, those hair spikes. There’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 25-30 of them, of varying lengths, and NONE of them want to stay straight. I’ve managed to maintain some semblance of spike through blocking and then re-straightening them a bit by sewing red yarn back and forth through them, but there’s more than is feasible to do at a time, and frankly the hair physics in 3 are such that I don’t mind some of the twisting inwards compared to perfectly outward spikes. I figured these discrete ones would be easier than the more connected spikes I’ll eventually be doing for Roxas (don’t ask me how I plan to do Roxas’s hair. I’ll figure it out. Probably as I’m doing it,) which is one of the reasons why Lea came first.

The plaid is also less intimidating than checkerboard. I obviously had to scale the pattern size up a fair bit to stay visible and doable on a doll who’s about, eh, twelve to fourteen inches tall? I can’t find a tape measure at the moment but he’s a few inches taller than Xion, though not as much as their actual in-game height difference. Most of that’s in the legs (and therefore proportionately arms). He’s a noodle. But for someone who isn’t an embroiderer, I’m pretty happy with how it turned out - that shirt’s actually a rectangular piece of crochet that was embroidered once I made it, and then wrapped around the doll and sewn on in position. It even has a little collar! The light here doesn’t do justice to his jacket/hoodie/overshirt, but I also think that’s pretty neat shaping, at least given I’d only learned to crochet about three years before I made him. The hood at the back is stuffed to add some volume, and then the edge of the coat isn’t sewn on, so it can stay fairly loose. The sleeves were another simplification - there’s a lot of layers of fabric in play there, and adding another underlayer of sleeves that would barely be seen seemed like more trouble than it was worth for strict accuracy’s sake.

Of course, I say that, but I went to a LOT of trouble rewatching the end credits to figure out just what color that shirt and pants were. The end credits where these outfits only ever appear in sunset lighting, which causes a lot of trouble when you’re trying to find reference material. The shirt, I was happy to realize, wasn’t another black-on-black issue like Xion’s blouse (again, great look, but black yarn absorbs all detail,) but instead appears to be a gray or very dark brown under that plaid. I could work with that. Or at least, there’s enough of a brownish tint to the fabric that I could use it as an excuse to vary up the colors, since I had a brown yarn in the right general family. I was figuring this out in late 2019/early 2020 - this was a project that took MONTHS, both because there are so many moving parts and because I was still taking commissions from family at the time... and those commissions were contributing to a repetitive stress injury that would turn into two years of tendonitis.

So at the time, I had enough perfectionist tendencies in me to try and get the color JUST right. Were the shirt and pants the same color? Not quite, but probably too close to really differentiate with what I'd realistically be able to find. Okay, so what color are they? Black? Gray? Brown? Dark red? It’s hard to tell in that sunset lighting in the prerendered cutscenes, even taking screenshots.

And then reMind came out, and included a second runthrough of the end credits cutscenes. This was pretty great, and I was paying close attention as we approached the Twilight Town segment so I could get a better look.

[ID: A close-up screenshot of Kingdom Hearts 3′s ending cutscene. Specifically, it’s a zoom on some of the details on Lea’s outfit from the ending, showing his jacket, long plaid shirt, and dark brown pants with leopard print. End ID]

FUCKING. LEOPARD PRINT.

I’m not even sure this was VISIBLE in the original version of the cutscene, though I’m not certain because we initially reached it with me crowding around a much smaller screen, at like 2 AM because we’d realized it was entering endgame that night after freeing Aqua and had decided to play through and, well. You all know how long the last sequence of the game after that is, right? Anyway, we reached it both overwhelmingly emotional and exhausted, and at the time I was too focused on the fact that they finally had new outfits to take in every individual detail the way I would once I actually started crocheting them. Plus, my immediate priority was Xion. I figured Lea would follow at some point.

I’m not an embroiderer. I can’t do knots, and while I’d like to pick it up it’s one of those skills where as far as I can tell I will actually need not just a demonstration, but a person who can physically move my hands through the motions once so I can imitate that. (Dyspraxia is fun.) Those pants are the tubes of Lea’s legs, and they are very narrow, and they are not stuffed, because they’re actually filled with wire that makes him bendable. I wasn’t touching the leopard print. I can by now conceive of a future where, having this whole set done, I maybe make a second set and give them to someone or donate them somewhere so I can write down Xion’s outfit pattern notes and eventually sell the patterns as a set. (Provided the second Lea doesn’t ALSO give me tendonitis.) But I don’t think I’d be able to do the leopard print even then. Just. No.

Any other notes? Let’s see - the hair is made of spikes overtop a red cap, essentially, that is itself sewn over the doll head. (Xion’s and Namine’s hair are one connected piece coming from a similar round circular ‘cap’ - I haven’t finished Namine’s hair yet, but I feel confident hers will follow the same basic principles.) The boots are, I’m pretty dang sure, done so that the round that changed to the brown of his pants was back loops only, and then the tops were done overtop that. There’s a tiny bit of sculpting there, though it’s not really visible, to add heels. I think I’ll be doing Namine’s sandals with actual heels, at least if my plan for them works, so I might end up adding Lea’s as a touch up after. Still, gives a nice effect and layering while being easy to do. He is, unsurprisingly, even more top-heavy than Xion - that hedgehog hair needs to be properly braced for him to sit upright. But it makes me happy to see them sitting on my shelf. (I am DEFINITELY going to figure out a tiny sea salt ice cream for them all once Roxas is done. Maybe tiny velcro sticks?)

[literaticat]

Hi! Real question. Not being snarky. Why does it take MONTHS for editor/publishing contracts to be done? What are the agents and editors actually doing?

I mean we'd all love it to be faster. The bottleneck is not generally happening with agents and editors.

Here's how it goes. (Picking numbers absolutely out of thin air, I have no idea what the actual numbers would be and I imagine it varies!):

You have a publishing house, right? In the kids division, let's say there are six imprints, with six to ten editors each. There are new book acquisitions weekly for sure, probably multiple, at each imprint. Let's say 1-2 books gets through acquisitions at each imprint every week, so between 6-12 new books across the board. We'll aim high and assume 12 new books get offers, which some are accepted some are not, and say they end up moving forward with 8 new books per week across these 6 imprints.

First -- before accepting! -- the editor and agent negotiate a deal memo (this is the basic thing that says all the "big picture" terms such as advance, royalties, etc.). Sometimes things have to be approved by the financial folks, etc. Once the deal memo is complete and we have officially accepted the offer, the editor sends all the paperwork to the contracts department. It is now out of both of our hands.

The "contracts department" may consist of like... two people, and an utterly overwhelmed assistant. They are SWAMPED. They are DYING. They are, I have to assume, trapped in windowless cells doing a painstaking job that requires lots of attention to detail and is utterly thankless and probably getting yelled at by assholes all the time. (I'm so sorry, contracts people, I LOVE YOU, and I don't thank you ENOUGH! You should all get raises!)

So each contract takes time to draft. They can be 20, 25, 30 pages long (or longer!). Each agency does have their own "boilerplate" which at least gives them a place to start so they aren't reinventing the wheel every time, but each book deal does have its own terms (as outlined in the Deal Memo) and there are new terms and bits of wording being changed and asked for all the time -- for agencies like mine, with a lot of business at certain publishers, the contracts people and the agents are basically in a constant conversation, making sure that new terms are being carried over properly, etc etc. It's a nit-picky thing, they are comparing multiple contracts with one another at a granular level, it just takes a long time. No I don't know how long - but I know it takes ME hours to even read them, so I would imagine it's at least a solid half-day with no interruptions to draft them.

Once the contract is drafted, it gets sent to the agent, who carefully reads it and makes notes, those notes get sent back to the contracts person, who carefully reads them and responds, there may be a little more back and forth, finally we get a final contract that can be signed.

(This whole process might, in a fast world, take 1-2 weeks, because the agent ALSO has a queue of things and needs a solid half-a-day to do the notes, and when the notes get back to the contracts person, they go into the notes queue, then the agent needs to re-read the final version, etc. But it could for sure take longer than that. I would not be surprised if it took a month just for a normal contract with all the back-and-forth, and if there are significant changes being asked for, it might literally take months as each side has to get lawyers and such involved to make sure the wording makes sense, etc. This is pretty rare but it DOES happen.)

So back to our bottleneck. The big number of editors filter a ton of submissions into 8 books that are moving forward, those 8 books get filtered to 2 contracts people -- each of those contracts people might be able to realistically do, say, 2 draft contracts per week and 2 notes/final contracts per week. One of them went on vacation once, and both of them have had COVID this year, so unfortunately they are always backed up, and can never actually catch up, because there are more coming in every week than they can possibly do and there's already a queue.

So... That's why contracts take so long. Sorry. Everyone is doing their best, I promise.